Chapter Text
Seeing as Lance seems dead set on continuing this ridiculous match-making charade, Keith sets down a few ground rules.
Rule #1: Do not ask about people we know.
This rule was established after Lance asked Keith if he thought Coran was "beekeeper age” and Keith refused to speak to Coran for three days.
Coran, bless him, was deeply concerned.
Rule #2: No more than five people per day.
Preferably less.
This rule exists to preserve Keith’s sanity.
Rule #3: If Lance wants to keep this up, he has to train with Keith once a day.
This rule was established for obvious reasons.
Those are the only concrete rules. Keith holds the right to add more rules whenever he pleases. He also reserves the right to tell Lance to fuck off whenever he pleases.
Establishing rules at all is, admittedly, engaging more with this foolishness than Keith ever intended, but Lance is being unusually persistent and weirdly committed about keeping the matchmaking thing going.
And, while it is annoying, it’s not the absolute worst thing that has happened to Keith.
The attention isn't unwelcome.
Keith refuses to say it out loud, but he does like to hang out with Lance, and this game they keep playing allows them time together.
So, if the price is occasionally rating strangers based on their “smashability”, then fine.
He’ll take it.
"Rule Four,” Lance starts, speaking out loud as he scribbles it down in his notepad, “Keith must come to me first before he initiates conversation. It might end terribly if he does.”
“Like you'd be any help,” Keith mutters.
“Rule, Five. Keith must be nice to me every day."
Wearing his face mask and bathrobe, he sprawls out across Keith's bed, kicking his legs in the air as he writes in a notepad with a red glitter pen. Where did he get it? Who knows.
Keith, currently sitting by the corner of his bed, huffs. "Definitely not a rule."
Lance pouts, flopping dramatically onto his back and letting his arm hang off the side of the bed. “One day I’m going to die a terrible death, and you’re going to regret saying that to me. And it’ll haunt you forever until you die of a heart attack from the intense guilt and despair that consumes your everyday life."
Keith rolls his eyes. "That’s never going to happen."
Lance closes the notepad and rests it against his stomach. "Okay, okay. Let’s move on. We have to narrow down your type.”
“No, we don’t.”
“How about we do a speed round?”
“No.”
“What do you think about surfer guys?" Lance asks, regardless.
Forced to participate, Keith frowns. "They’re too... kumbaya,” he starts, "And they bring sand everywhere."
"Okay, rude. Surfers are zen and hot. What about video game players?"
"That's all they ever do. Play video games."
Lance gapes. "No! Obviously not. They definitely do other things! Ugh, whatever. Musicians?"
Keith winces. "They might be too loud."
Lance groans and throws a pillow at him. "Keith! What do you even like to do?!"
Keith catches the pillow easily.
"I like to train."
Lance splutters. "Oh God, you’re hopeless."
Keith raises his arms. "Great! So, we’re done here, right? You can stop playing matchmaker now! Glad we finally came to this conclusion."
Shuffling over to Keith and shoving a finger in his face, Lance waves it. "Nuh-uh! That was a test, and you failed. Obviously, I don’t think you’re that hopeless. There’s potential somewhere out there. We just have to find it."
Keith groans and lets himself fall backward onto the bed next to Lance. He doesn't realize how close their faces are until Lance turns toward him, smiling.
His heart skips a beat. His face warms.
"Have you ever fallen in love, Keith? Like ever?" Lance asks, sincerely.
Keith shakes his head. "No," He says, hesitating before asking, "Have you?"
Lance laughs. "Oh yeah, totally. It was with some girl from elementary school. Dude, I would ask her if she could share her lunch with me, and I’d only ask just so she could talk to me."
Keith smiles, shifting his body to get comfortable. "She probably felt bad that you didn't have any food, when you definitely did."
"Huh? How did you know?"
"Just a hunch."
Lance leans back, stretching his arms behind his head, grinning. “Man, I was so gone for her. Like, full-on, head-over-heels, ‘this is my future wife’ love.”
Keith raises an eyebrow, amused. “You were, what? Eight?”
Lance waves a hand dismissively. “Love knows no age. Something you have yet to realize, my padawan.”
Shaking his head, Keith snorts, He rests his head on a propped head, lying on side to look at Lance better. “Right. So, what happened?”
Lance groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “Ugh. She started hanging out with some other kid. And suddenly, I wasn’t the favorite anymore.”
Keith tilts his head, curious. “So, what did you do? Beat him up?”
Lance sighs, exasperated. “Nah. I suffered in silence. Every time I saw them together, I felt like my soul was being ripped apart.”
"Seriously? That’s kinda embarrassing, even for you."
Lance shoves him. “It was very tragic, actually! I cried so hard after school once that my mom literally thought I was getting bullied.”
Keith stares, then bursts into laughter, shaking his head.
Lance shoves him harder. “Hey! The first heartbreak hits differently, okay? Shut up already, I’m trying to open up to you, and you’re being an asshole, right now.”
“Oh yeah? How about you make me shut up,” Keith challenges, shoving Lance with equal push.
One shove turns into another, then another.
It turns into grappling with sharp breaths, the momentum shifting back and forth.
It’s instinctive, automatic, the kind of unspoken challenge they always fall into.
Keith moves fast, but Lance is just as quick, twisting, pushing, countering. Hands blocking hands. Legs blocking legs. Lance lifts his upper body, readying to tower over Keith.
With a well-timed shift, Keith pushes him down, pinning Lance beneath him.
He stares down, breath caught in his throat.
Lance lays beneath him, eyes wide, his robe parted.
Keith’s gaze flickers down, gazing at Lance’s open chest and abdomen rising and falling. His eyes linger on Lance’s boxers for half a second too long.
Coran’s voice blares over the intercom.
"Lunch is ready! First come first serve, as always!"
Keith jerks upright so fast, he nearly falls off his bed.
Lance blinks, still flat on his back and staring at Keith, like he’s trying to process what just happened.
Keith runs a hand through his hair, forcing himself to breathe easy, to play it off, to act normal.
Normal. That was totally normal.
"We play too much," Keith mutters, crossing his arms protectively, “One of these days, someone’s going to get hurt and it’s because one of us takes it too far.”
Recovering from the moment, Lance sits up slowly. Keith waits in bated breath.
He huffs, forcing a grin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, sorry. My bad."
Before Keith can press about it, Lance claps his hands together, forcing the vibrant, chaotic energy back into his voice.
“Food! We need some food, asap! I might die from starvation if we don't go now!”
Keith exhales, calming his heart back to normal. Then, he gestures to the door with his head.
"Let’s go eat then," he says, voice steadier now, "or we’ll be stuck with whatever’s left.”
Nodding, Lance smiles, grabbing the notepad as he stands, readjusting his robe.
“Yeah, maybe I just got a little hangry.”
The grin Lance wears now is easy and familiar, like he’s choosing to move past the moment and also pretend nothing weird happened.
Keith isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed.
Dinner wraps up with the usual rowdy conversation and sharing thanks around the table. But before anyone can fully retreat to their respective rooms, Allura stands from her seat with an eager glint in her eyes.
"Everyone, I have something very special to share tonight," she announces, practically glowing. "A private screening!"
“A what?" Keith asks, surprised.
Allura smiles proudly at him. "Bii-Boh-Be has directed and produced a cinematic masterpiece in honor of Voltron. It stars all of us as the main cast!"
Coran gasps. "Bii-Boh-Be? The greatest film producer in the galaxy?! Oh my, we must watch this! The honor! The privilege! It elates me!"
Pidge chuckles, "He's like the Tarantino of space."
Keith lets out a laugh, before he can stop himself.
Lance squints at them both. "Wait. Who's Tarantino?"
"A film director,” Keith says easily, “He made Pulp Fiction. Kill Bill. Reservoir Dogs?"
Lance stares blankly. “So, you like Tarantino films?”
"He's made some of my favorites," Keith shrugs, then adds quickly, "They’re different, but good."
Lance looks like he wants to say something more, but their conversation cuts short.
“Hey!” Hunk pops up between them, “Would you guys like to have some popcorn to go with your film viewing? Freshly popped!”
“Popcorn?” Keith echoes, surprised.
“The Arusian kind,” Hunk reiterates. “But, honestly, it’s like cantaloupe-flavored puff chips. Pretty tasty.”
Keith shakes his head, holding his palm out. “Nah, I’m good.”
Lance gasps, looking at him bug-eyed, “How are you watching a movie without popcorn?!"
“It distracts me.”
“That’s the point, Keith!”
“It’s not that serious. People do it all the time.”
“It is serious! You’re committing an illegal crime!”
Allura waves for everyone to follow her, gladly interrupting Lance and Keith’s ongoing verbal quarrel. “Hurry! The lounge is ready!”
When they arrive, the common room of the Castle has been transformed. Blankets and pillows are strewn across the lounge seating area; lights dimmed to its lowest setting. Allura has already queued up the holographic projector at the opening scene paused.
“I call dibs!” Lance yells, darting to a spot beside Allura on the floor.
Just as Keith is about to find a corner for himself, Lance reaches over and tugs him down by the wrist, patting the space next to him.
That’s how Keith ends up on Lance’s right side, nestled on the floor among blankets and cushions. Shiro, Coran, and Hunk claim the upper portion of the lounge, while Pidge, Allura, Lance, and Keith settle below.
The movie begins.
Immediately, the screen lights up with garbled Bii-Boh-Be dialect and chaotic, exaggerated action sequences. It’s almost comedic.
Keith tries to follow along, but the dialogue is incomprehensible. There’s a lot of waving of thin limbs and loud nonsense. There’s even confetti to portray the missiles and laser firing off, making the whole screen colorful.
Coran is already tearing up. Allura too.
Keith watches completely puzzled. What was there to be sad about?
Then, Lance leans in, voice soft near his face.
"Don’t you think the one on screen looks cute?"
He takes a little while to finally register which character Bii-Boh-Be portrayed.
Behind an obvious greenscreen, the Bii-Boh-Be version of Lance is yelling, as he flies the Blue Lion with reckless speed toward a Galra fleet. His animated face scrunches with dramatic flair. As he closes in on the enemies, he even showcases a winning smirk.
Without realizing, Keith smiles up at the screen. Despite the dramatics, the movie does well reenacting Lance’s mannerisms. He finds the portrayal to be funny, but oddly endearing.
Unfortunately, Lance can't exactly read his mind. So, he throws a handful of popcorn at Keith.
“Not funny, Keith,” he says, frowning.
Keith turns, startled. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“Yes, you were!” Lance hisses. “You were totally laughing at me. Bii-Boh-Be Lance is still me! And, I have real feelings!”
“I wasn’t laughing at you!”
“Keith, I saw your stupid face!”
“It’s a funny movie! What do you want from me?!”
“Your support, maybe?! Like, oh, I don’t know. At least say I don’t look half bad!”
“Guys,” Pidge warns under her breath, “Quiet down, already.”
Keith gawks at him, now offended. “Wait, did you just say my face looks stupid?”
Glaring at him, Lance huffs, “You had stupid, smug little smirk on your face! Don’t even try to deny it!”
“I’m not smug!”
Lance snorts, throwing another handful of popcorn at him. “Please, you’re literally smug all the time. It’s like your default setting!”
“Please, stop yelling,” Allura begs, clearly worried about something.
Lance leans in close to Keith’s space, laughing in a taunting way. “You so are! You’re like ’Hi, I’m Keith. I’m super intense. I train for fun. I don’t know how to relax. I’m better than everyone at everything.’”
“That’s not what I sound like!”
Lance grins, mocking. “That’s exactly what you sound like!”
Readying himself to leave, Keith places both hands on the floor. “I don’t have time for this.”
Lance gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Oh no! Keith doesn’t have time for me. Whatever shall I do? Quick! Someone save me!”
Keith feels his anger boiling over to the top. He opens his mouth.
“Shut the hell up! I’m trying to watch the movie!”
Shiro’s voice cuts through the room, sharp and uncharacteristically loud.
Keith and Lance both stiffen up, turning slowly toward him like scolded children. Along with them, the whole room falls silent. Even the Bii-Boh-Be on screen pauses for comedic effect.
Everyone stares at Shiro.
Lance clears his throat, sitting up straighter. “Right. Sorry, Shiro.”
“Thank you, Lance,” Shiro says slowly, “Keith?”
Keith feels totally belittled right now. “Yeah, sorry,” he barely voices.
After sending them a tight smile, Shiro casually pops another piece of popcorn into his mouth. Everyone robotically turns back to the film.
Frowning, Keith sinks back into his seat on the floor, arms crossed.
Lance shoves him with his shoulder, hissing. “See? Now you got us in trouble. This is all your fault.”
Keith shoots him a look. “You started it.”
“I swear, if I hear another word,” Shiro grumbles.
Keith and Lance both shut up immediately.
After a short amount of time passes, Lance leans a little closer to him. Just enough to bump their shoulders again.
Keith expects to look over and see Lance falling asleep.
Wide awake, Lance intensely stares at the screen, eating the last few bits of popcorn from his bowl. Completely unaware of their close proximity.
Selfishly, Keith stays still.
A formal message from Queen Luxia was received.
There had been seismic rumblings at the site where Baku had once been defeated. The merfolk of her kingdom feared the monster might've reawakened. As such, she urgently requested the paladins to travel to the ocean planet Glaciem for their assistance in case it were to be true.
“It could just be a subsurface vibration,” Allura offers thoughtfully, fingers drumming over her chin. “The region is geologically unstable. There’s no compelling reason to believe that Baku has reawaken.”
“Yet, there’s no reason not to believe it has,” Shiro says, folding his arms and eying intensely at the holograms of the former Baku projects in the central command room. “The possibility still exists and that’s not a risk we should be willing to take.”
Coran hums, stroking his mustache thoroughly, “Hmm, yes. It’s conceivable that Baku may have never died and chose to stay dormant. There’s no known record of its ability to reproduce or clone itself, but who’s to say it can’t evolve?”
“It’s decided then,” Shiro says firmly with conviction, “Hunk and Lance. You were the ones who faced Baku last time. You know the terrain and enemy. I want you two to investigate.”
Hunk shifts in his stance, frowning slightly. “Uh, well, to be honest, we barely made it out the first time, remember? That thing almost cracked my lion open...”
“Yeah, just because we survived it once doesn’t mean we’ll get lucky again,” Lance says, visibly uncomfortable with the situation.
Shiro glances at him. “You both have grown in strength and teamwork. Watch each other’s backs, and you’ll be fine.”
“Hah, yeah, okay, sure,” Lance intones, looking from Hunk to Shiro. “But this mission needs a little bit more than just teamwork. It needs insurance. Because to be frank, there’s no way in hell I’m risking my life again without some of it.”
Shiro considers Lance’s input. “Well, what did you have in mind to ensure that security?”
Lance steps forward, an unusual seriousness settling on his face.
“I think Keith should come, too.”
Allura raises an elegant brow. “Lance, you’re overthinking this operation. You and Hunk handled yourselves well before. There’s no need to involve Keith.”
“Actually, there is,” Lance pushes, tone firmer than usual. “We barely made it out alive last time. Sure, if this isn’t Baku, maybe I’m overkilling it.”
“Which, you are,” Allura insists.
“But, if it is Baku, then Hunk and I are definitely going to need some backup. Obviously, the castle needs Shiro and Pidge to keep everything secure. So, that leaves us with Keith.”
“Worst case scenario, Zarkon spots us,” Allura says slowly at Lance, as if he needs a thorough explanation. “We need a strong hold here in case something goes wrong while you and Hunk are away. Keith leaving will cause us to only have two lions with the Castle ship. That's jeopardizing my safety along with everyone else here."
Lance meets her gaze directly. “And if Baku’s really back, I’m going to need reinforcement. You’re worried about holding down the fort. I’m worried about whether Hunk and I are even coming back to it. You tell me what's the priority, then.”
There was a beat of tense hushed air.
Pidge whistles. “Damn, Lance. You still trying to be the leader after all this time?”
Lance immediately takes a step back from Allura, hands up. “Woah, woah! I-I wasn’t trying to overstep my position,” He assures hurriedly, “I'm so sorry, Allura, I didn’t mean to come at you like that. Ultimately, I’ll go with what Shiro thinks is best!”
“Well then,” Allura starts, propping a hand to her hip and definitely not ready to accept Lance’s apology yet, “What do you think then, Shiro?”
Rubbing his temples with the pinch of his fingers, Shiro hums in intense thought. After another moment, Shiro exhales a deep breath and lifts his head.
“I would like to hear from the rest of the team,” he announces firmly.
For a long moment, no one says anything. The awkward tension lingers throughout the control room, as each member glances at one another.
Allura frowns. Lance sweats nervously.
Keith can feel Lance’s gaze on him; a silent plea for support that pulls him like a warm ember. Lance doesn’t usually push back against Allura’s authority.
But this time he had.
To ask for Keith, like he needed him.
It was... a lot to try to decipher right now.
“Lance’s right,” Keith finally says, stepping forward close to Shiro, “If Baku has reawakened, then I’m going to be needed. I should go.” The resolve in his voice almost surprised even him.
Momentarily taken aback, Lance looks visibly stunned. “Woah. Can you say 'Lance's right' for me, one more time, real quick? Wait, hold on, let me grab my recorder for this.”
Keith almost regrets siding with Lance.
Luckily, Hunk clears his throat, trying to ease the tension. “I-I wouldn’t mind if Keith were to tag along, as well. It’d be kinda reassuring to know we have a solid offense moving in,” he voices hesitantly.
“Pidge?” Shiro calls out.
Pidge lays horizontally in her control chair, lax and chill. She simply shrugs, with arms up in the air. “Eh, I’m cool with whatever.”
Shiro frowns, clearly torn. He runs a hand through his hair, weighing the risks against their strengths. Finally, he sighs with reluctant acceptance to the switch of plans.
“All right. Lance, Hunk, and Keith. You three will head out and investigate. Check in every hour. Allura, we’ll do what we can to remain undetected for the time being.”
Allura doesn’t look too happy about the final decision, but she gives a tight nod to Shiro.
The Lions soared down to Glaciem in perfect formation, slicing through the planet’s icy atmosphere before plunging into the depths of the sea. The moment they entered the water; their surroundings transformed into a blue, deep world.
Through the open comms, the mood had lightened considerably.
“Y’know,” Hunk starts, “this place hasn’t changed at all. Still freezing and terrifying.”
“And, oh, so gorgeous,” Lance adds, wistful.
“Did you forget that Baku used to live here,” Keith says dryly.
Lance sighs loudly, overly dramatic. “No, Keith, I did not forget about Baku, the psychic horror sea monster. I’m just saying, if we were to completely ignore the potentially traumatizing mind invasion thing, I’d say this planet is very pretty.”
“Yeah, if you ignore the fact that we nearly died here, too,” Hunk mumbles.
“Details, details.”
“This isn’t the time to make light of the situation, Lance,” Keith mutters.
“What can I say? I am as chill as ice.”
Keith scoffs. “You screamed for a whole minute straight when you thought something grabbed your lion when we broke into the water.”
“I told you already, that was my warning system!” Lance yells, defiantly, “It was alerting the team! I had Pidge do an upgrade where it sounds off an A.I. recording of me yelling. But it’s not actually me!”
Hunk laughs, “Sure, buddy.”
They land near the gates of the undersea kingdom, greeted by Queen Luxia and her guards. Bubbles appeared and surrounded around the paladins’ heads, allowing them to breathe once they stepped out from their lions.
“Paladins,” Queen Luxia says graciously, a relieved smile breaking across her regal features, “Your presence brings us great relief. We pray the disturbance is nothing more than the tectonic shifting and fault movement of our planet.”
"Tect-what now?” Lance asks.
Plaxum, standing beside the queen to her left, giggles. “Tectonic shifting. The sideways motions of the planet’s crustal plates rubbing one another.”
Lance smirks back at her, leaning into the moment. “Oh, I definitely know about sideways motions and rubbing, alright.”
While Hunk groans at Lance’s obnoxious comment, Keith side-eyes the exchange, feeling an inexplicable tension tugging at his chest and jaw tight.
He clicks his tongue, turning away from the sight of Plaxum blushing. He tells himself it didn’t bother him. That it didn’t matter when Lance flirted.
It matters. But only a little.
They were assigned Blumfump as their guide and sent towards where the rockfall took place. As they swim to the location, Lance suddenly slows and gently pulls Keith by the elbow.
Keith instinctively scowls, jerking his arm free. "What?" He hisses, already feeling himself getting riled up.
Lance smirks. "Just wanted to check in on my favorite broody emo fish. You enjoying the views? Way better than being holed up in the ship, right?"
Keith narrows his eyes. "Focus on the mission, Lance.”
Instead of getting the message and leaving him the fuck alone, Lance kept swimming alongside him, way too close.
"You know," Lance starts, tiredly, "if you ever want a real connection, maybe you should start looking at the opportunities right in front of you. The underwater seems like the perfect place to start. Very mystical and romantic, if you ask me."
Keith sighs through his nose, fully regretting coming here in the first place. "When did I ever, and I mean ever, tell you that I needed a connection with anyone?"
"Wow, Keith. No wonder you’re single. You have absolutely zero appreciation for the art of romance. If you had even an ounce of imagination, you’d realize I’m kinda onto something here,” Lance says, leaning in close to Keith’s face, bubbles touching.
"The only thing I see in front of me right now is you in my way," Keith states harshly
His tone doesn't deter Lance away. "Why don't you seize the opportunity, then?" He asks smoothly.
Hunk coughs loudly.
They both turn their heads.
He has been floating behind them all this time, arms crossed, watching the whole thing like he was witnessing a slow-motion disaster unfold.
"Do you two need a minute?" Hunk asks, genuinely.
Immediately stiffening, Keith’s cheeks warm. "No."
At the same time, Lance positively beams. "Maybe!"
Keith surges forward, away from whatever this was turning into.
Lance is just as determined to keep up.
Keith ignores him, focusing on the mission at hand, on the rockfall ahead, on literally anything that wasn’t Lance.
But then, of course, Lance speaks again.
“Straight ahead. Hot or not hot?”
Keith frowns, “That’s literally Blumfump. And he’s wearing a mask.”
Lance nods, a glint of amusement in his eye. “Exactly. Doesn’t that make him mysterious. All that stoic aura? It’s giving slow-burn romance material.”
Hunk groans. “Are you seriously rating hotness while we’re potentially about to fight Baku?”
“Correction,” Lance says, holding up a finger. “I’m multitasking.”
Already feeling his patience wearing dangerously thin, Keith mutters, "Can we seriously not do this right now? Or was this the real reason why you wanted me to come in the first place?"
Lance ignores him completely. "Think about it, dude. Mysterious stranger? Hidden identity? He could have a tragic backstory just like you, Keith. You two could heal each other. Emotionally."
"Why do you care?"
Lance looks back at Keith like he’s grown three heads. "Excuse me? I care because, duh, I’m your wingman. I recognize potential romantic partners for you when I see it."
"You recognize nonsense when you see it," Hunk insists.
Lance gives him a pointed look. "Nonsense and romance are like second cousins. Also, you’re not helping. You’re supposed to be my co-wingman that I can lean on!"
Keith rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he saw his past lives. “Right. Because flirting with a fish is top priority when we might get mind-melted any second.”
"Oh, come on," he shoots back, undeterred, "You’re just jealous because here I am having a blast, and you’re just stuck staying grumpy."
"Not even a little," Keith deadpans.
After a brutal encounter with Commander Throk that left their Lions singed and their bodies bruised, Team Voltron found themselves utterly drained.
The Castle of Lions floated in orbit, quiet except for the occasional hiss of repairs.
Which is why Coran, with all the pride of a travel agent unveiling a five-star brochure, had pulled up a glowing planetary projection.
“Behold! Planet Rhisa! The most relaxing destination in the entire quadrant! Warmest waters! Coolest sands! And not a single Galra enemy base for miles!”
Allura and Shiro exchanged a glance before nodding. Even the most disciplined leaders knew when there was a needed cool-off.
Preparations began quickly. Hunk and Shiro took charge of the heavy lifting, carrying umbrellas, and coolers. Pidge held tightly to her sun hat, mumbling threats about sunburn and UV exposure.
Strolling beside Coran, Allura, radiant in a soft pink bodysuit, hair tied in a messy bun.
Lance sighs, audibly heart-strung. “She’s so unreal.”
Hunk grins over at him, “You should tell her.”
With a reddened face, Lance coughs a laugh, waving a hand. “No, no, no! No way! That’s way too direct. Buddy, you got to say things smoothly. You have to be subtle, like me.”
Hunk laughs. "Subtle? You? Last I checked, those are strictly antonyms."
"I’ll have you know I am a masterclass of finesse. A connoisseur of charm. A—"
"A coward," Hunk finishes, "Sometimes."
Lance gawks at him in utter betrayal.
Behind them, Keith watches silently, eyes flicking to Allura, then down at himself.
Red swim trunks. Flip-flops.
Allura was effortlessly radiant, instantly drawing attention without even trying. She had a grace behind her stance, and she was undeniably beautiful.
On the other hand, nothing about Keith was alluring. He was rough around the edges, used sharp words, and stood in the background.
It made sense how Lance could stare at Allura with pure attraction.
But Keith?
He was just there.
And that thought sat uncomfortably in his chest.
Distracted in his thoughts, he bumps right into Shiro.
“Whoa, easy,” Shiro steadies him. “You alright?”
Keith winces. “Headache,” he lies.
Shiro gives him a knowing smile. “Not used to the sunshine, huh? You’ll warm up to it.”
Once they found an open spot of yellow sand among the crowded alien beachgoers, they began to set up their camp.
As Keith tries adjusting the umbrella angle, sticking it in the sand, Lance steps directly on his foot.
“Ow! Watch it, Lance!”
“You watch it,” Lance fires back, glaring.
“I was the one standing still!”
“Then maybe move out of my way next time.”
“Then you move out of mine.”
“No, you!”
Hunk sighs deeply, already exhausted from hearing them, “Guys, please don’t start...”
Pidge, however, says offhandedly, “Why don’t you two kiss already and make up?”
When Keith meets her expectant gaze, she sticks out her tongue, before smiling.
Realization hitting him like a high-speed trunk.
Quickly, he tosses the umbrella onto the sand and walks off toward the shoreline, ignoring the calls of his team to come back.
Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck
Pidge knew.
She had to know.
Pidge wasn’t just teasing for the shits and giggles. She was digging, poking at the edges of something Keith wasn’t comfortable addressing. She definitely enjoyed the way his silence spoke louder than any word of denial.
On top of that, Keith couldn’t decide what’s worse.
Lance never noticing.
Or Lance noticing.
Both felt equally disastrous.
Keith kept walking, putting distance between himself and the others, weaving past beachgoers. Once he felt far enough to breathe, he stopped.
He took a silent moment to stare out at the odd pink hues of the water, rolling in and out like a steady pulse. It helped him to regulate his deep breathing. Exhaling, slow and steady.
“E-Excuse me,” came a voice beside him.
Keith turns to see a short, grey Olkarian male, clearly older and panicked.
“By any chance, have you seen my little girl? Orange bucket hat, flower sandals, and she looks just like me. I turned away for a second and now, I-I can’t seem to find her. Please, tell me you've seen her.”
Keith shakes his head. “No, I haven’t.”
The man's expression crumbles, panic flickering in his wide eyes. His hands clench at his sides, as if willing himself to stay composed, but his breaths are already uneven, shallow.
“Oh stars, I—!” His breath hitches sharply, looking around frantically, his gaze scanning every moving figure in the bustling beach. “She was right here with me. Just a second ago. I swear, I only turned around for one moment—!”
Keith definitely wasn’t the greatest at comforting people. But, watching someone spiral like this, right in front of him, did something to his gut. Especially watching a father missing his only daughter.
He lets out a small sigh, more to himself than anything, before speaking again.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” He reassures slowly.
The man’s desperate gaze lifts up to meet him.
Keith held it. “I’ll help you look.”
They comb through the beach, surveying every cluster of sunbathers, every sandy dune. Finally, Keith spots her near the tide, humming to herself and building a sandcastle. Still wearing her bright orange bucket hat and fuchsia flower sandals.
He points. “There.”
Right when the man recognizes the little girl, he sprints hurriedly, collapsing to the ground when he hugs her. In his tight, protective embrace, the little girl stares up at her father, unaware of her disappearance and confused why he was crying.
Keith watches, a faint smile on his lips, but the warmth of the moment lasted for a short minute.
He couldn’t remember anything like that from his own life back on Earth.
No safe arms. No desperate relief in a parent’s embrace.
Just absence.
Maybe that was why he felt so out of place sometimes. Why he struggles to connect to others.
Because what did he have to offer? What did he know about love, about warmth, about being someone’s safe place?
Back on Earth, there's no one who would search for him with that level of desperation.
He's never been someone’s most important person they're too afraid to lose.
Everyone ends up leaving him at some point.
The ache rises, straining his chest, but Keith forces himself to breathe through it, to push it down, to ignore the weight of it.
However, the dreaded question remains.
Does that mean he's worth nothing?
Splat.
Cold water hits the back of his neck.
With the tension tightening the line of his shoulders, Keith pivots slowly.
Locking eyes, Lance stands not too far from him, grinning, panting, holding a water gun.
“Gotcha.”
Keith lunges.
Lance yelps, sprinting away instantly. Keith chases him down the shoreline. They run until they are breathless.
Their ankles hit the pink water.
Grinning like a menace, Lance shakes his hips.
"Neh, neh, neenah, neh! You can’t catch me!" He taunts, before running deep into the water.
Keith does not hesitate.
With a gusto of speed and strength, he charges through the waves, plowing forward faster than Lance had time to react.
His hands catch Lance’s shoulders, and he tackles him fully into the surf.
They crash into the water with a dramatic splash erupting around them. Some individuals nearby gasp at their brawl.
Surfacing first, Lance gasps for air loudly, hair slicked back, eyes wide with disbelief.
Keith surfaces next, shaking the water from his hair, resulting in droplets hitting Lance in the eye.
To get back at him, Lance splashes water toward his face in retaliation, but Keith barely flinches.
“Dude, I didn’t think you’d actually try to drown me!”
Keith wipes the water from his face. "If I honestly wanted to drown you, you wouldn’t have surfaced. Also, you should’ve aimed for my face. Never the back of the neck."
Lance scoffs, shaking his head. "You know what? I take it back. I wish you would’ve drowned me. So, I didn’t have to hear you complain my ear off! Also, what do you mean? I hit you dead on!”
"You're trying to justify your terrible aim."
"That was a tactical ambush! It took precision!"
"Then, here’s some advice. You should wait until your target turns around and faces you head on. That's how you should be aiming a fatal hit at your enemies."
Lance flicks more water at him. "Yeah, well, I totally knew that. I was going for dramatic effect, not trying to showcase my sharpshooter skills. Honestly, you’re just mad I got you fair and square.”
Keith deadpans, "And yet, here we are. You're soaking wet and I'm victorious."
Lance groans, throwing his head back. "Ugh! Give me a freaking break, Keith! I won first!" With that, he dunks his head back into the water, embarrassed.
Laughing, Keith feels the odd tension in his chest from earlier finally ease.
Keith had spent too long drowning in his own thoughts, spiraling over things he couldn’t change.
But then Lance came busting through, loud and reckless, dragging Keith into something stupid, ridiculous, and so completely Lance.
It helped Keith get unstuck in his own head.
He was no longer questioning his place, his worth, his ability to be enough.
Instead, he’s here; floating in pink seawater with Lance through the waves like none of it mattered in the first place.
He appreciates Lance looking out for him, even if Lance didn’t realize that’s what exactly he was doing for him in this moment.
Even if Lance was just being Lance.
Somehow, that was enough for Keith to feel gratitude.
When he surfaces back up from the water, Lance whips his head around quickly.
“Hey! Everyone! I found Keith, by the way!” He calls out, voice loud in order to reach across the beach.
Keith turns. He sees the rest of the team wave lazily from their position. Pidge, Allura, and Hunk halfway into a round of cards, Coran dozing in a lounge chair as he sunbathes and tans. Shiro giving a thumbs up from the shade.
No one looks surprised to hear Lance’s announcement, almost like they had already known of the fact for a long while, now.
Keith glances back at Lance, squinting right at him.
“Okay, seriously, let’s cut to the chase,” Lance starts, nudging his elbow. “Who was that guy you were with? Why’d you run off with him out of all people? 'Fess up, Keith."
“Huh?”
“Don't start 'huh-ing' me. You’re supposed to go through me before you start talking to someone. It’s one of our rules!"
Oh. He’s talking about the Olkarian.
“He’s a father who ended up losing his daughter,” Keith explains. “I helped him find her.”
Lance’s expression flickers momentarily, caught off guard. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah," Keith says, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. "She wandered off. He was freaking out. He came to me asking if I had seen her. I hadn’t, but I still helped. We ended up finding her and all is well."
Lance stays quiet for half a second, which was practically unheard of. Then, with a breathy huff, he smiles at Keith.
"So, you helped him?"
Keith narrows his eyes. "I just explained that I did."
Tilting his head, Lance really eyes at him now.
"That’s really nice of you, Keith." He admits softly.
Keith suddenly became uncomfortable under Lance’s attention, not used to such an intense, careful stare.
Lance stretches his arms out, sighing as he leans back into the water, feet kicking lazily beneath the waves.
"Sometimes," he muses, "you do things that make me think you might actually have a heart in there." He makes an emphasis to lift a pointed finger and touch Keith’s chest. “You didn’t have to help that guy. But you did."
Keith shrugs, not knowing what else to do with the strange warmth coiling in his chest.
"Anyone would’ve done what I did."
"Give yourself some credit," Lance assures, still smiling. "Be proud you were able to help someone today. You'll probably receive good luck, or something."
Keith offers an awkward smile back. "...Thanks, Lance."
He can tell when Lance notices the redness in his cheeks immediately, as his eyes slowly narrow, suspicious.
Keith knew what was coming.
“Did you think he was cute?”
Keith tilts his head, feigning thought.
“No, Not really.” He answers, honestly.
Lance smiles wider. Keith doesn’t understand why.
Right when he considers asking about what’s funny, Lance whips his water gun up from under the waves and blasts him square in the face.
The wingman game bled into mind melding practice.
Mild melding with Lance was already difficult, because Lance can be extremely distracting.
And Keith doesn’t even mean that in a ‘Lance is Hot’ way, although that’s part of the problem. Lance can be distracting in the worst way: loud, nosy, emotionally unpredictable.
They are good sparring partners when Lance actually puts in the effort, and even better together on the field, but when it comes to something like mind melding, they tend to get sidetracked.
It requires patience, control, and thought before actions. The opposite of what either Keith and Lance bring to the table.
Without the energy and focus of Shiro mediating things, their one-on-one mind melding sessions tend to end with one of them getting upset or annoyed at their unfiltered thoughts.
And sure enough, today’s session derails into a dumpster fire.
Keith really tries to stay centered when a thought bleeds into the simulation. A memory from Lance, forcing its way into the forefront of his focus.
A willowy blond guy, laughing, leaning in like Lance had said something funny. From Lance’s perspective, Keith sees the way the guy’s hair falls into his eyes and the way Lance had clearly noticed that.
Very begrudgingly, Keith gives him a once over. Admittedly, the guy doesn’t have a bad face, but it’s perpetually obscured by his hair. He’s tall, sure (Lance’s height, probably), but he was lacking muscle mass.
Keith grimaces. “I think I could break him in half.”
Lance’s snort echoes. “Okay, okay, no twiggy guys.”
“That’s number three.” Keith reminds him.
“Man, Keith, you’re killing me with the quotas. What about this guy!”
Against his will, the memory shifts as the scrawny guy morphs into a well-built, muscled brunette, biceps bigger than Shiro’s.
He looks tough. Could probably use a lance, judging by the way he carries himself, though he could just be a straight-up brawler. He’s broader than Lance but not as tall, and the hard set of his mouth is nothing like Lance’s usual grins.
“He probably trains a lot.”
“That’s—!” Lance's voice stills, “Wait, isn’t that like a turn on for you?”
Keith jerks, immediately defensive. “Stop.”
Okay, yeah, maybe it is, but the mere thought of discussing his ‘turn ons’ with Lance makes Keith want to fling himself into the eternal abyss.
“I’m just saying—!”
“I said, stop it. I mean it.” He elbows Lance in the side, hard, earning him an audible wince.
The guy is decent-looking, sure, but Keith’s mind is already betraying him. He’s comparing this stranger’s posture to Lance’s, his jaw to Lance’s smirking mouth, his stupid too-white teeth, his warm eyes.
He’d be even more decent looking if his hair was more put together like Lance’s, or if he carried himself with Lance’s carefree ease, or maybe if he just was Lance.
This guy isn’t Lance. And Keith is too aware of that.
The comparisons keep popping up, unbidden. It’s frustrating, because Keith is desperately trying to shove these thoughts in the depths of his soul.
But, unfortunately, Keith can feel Lance growing more excited and interested at wondering why Keith was starting to get fluster. The mind melding did not help.
“Let me in already. I’m trying to see inside your head,” Lance teases.
“I’m thinking of nothing,” Keith grits out.
“I feel your heart racing,”
“You’re pissing me off.”
Lance hums. “You're getting nervous.”
“I'm getting mad," Keith falsely corrects.
“You have yet to answer me, by the way.”
“He’s okay,” Keith grunts, because he is, and also because Lance isn’t actually stupid and without some misdirection, sooner or later he’ll figure out that Keith’s ‘type’ is him.
Keith hopes Lance will buy it.
Predictably, he doesn’t.
"You don’t sound very convincing, Keithy boy," he says in singsong, his voice carrying that telltale smirk even in the mind melding simulation.
Keith clenches his jaw. "It’s an answer, isn’t it?"
"It’s a cop-out, honestly."
Of course it is. But Keith doesn’t have the patience for this, and Lance is already teetering on dangerous territory. He can practically feel Lance’s curiosity bubbling over, ready to interrogate Keith.
However, there’s a shift in the meld. Lance’s thoughts push something forward, a memory or image too charged to ignore.
Keith braces himself, but no amount of preparation can stop the way his heart jolts into his throat when the image sharpens.
It’s him.
Keith sees himself from Lance’s perspective, standing in the training room after a sparring match. His hair is wind-tossed, expression stoic. But under Lance’s gaze, there’s something else; a strange, soft clarity.
He looks pretty.
In an instant, Lance yanks off his mind-melding gear and tosses it onto the floor. The image goes away.
Keith whips his head over to Lance, who’s staring at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.
Dread begins to pool in his gut.
“What was that?” He barely asks, slowly removing his own head gear.
“W-Wait, hold on!” Lance hurriedly rushes to say, sounding utterly stressed, “That was a joke. Totally a stupid joke. Keith!
"..A joke?" Keith echoes dumbly.
"Like, you know, maybe the only person you’ll ever like is yourself! Hah, funny, right? There's no way you're that full of yourself, right?”
A humorless joke.
Just like Lance.
Furious, Keith sees no reason to stay in this stupid mind melding experience and gets up on his feet.
“H-Hey! Now I think we’re getting somewhere!” Lance calls out, but it sounds a little forced
Keith doesn't stop running until the automatic doors to his room slides shut behind him.
His heart is pounding, his thoughts are tangled, and he wants nothing more than to slam the door behind him and pretend this entire situation never happened.
All he can think about is how he wished Lance actually looked at him like in that false image.
And how much it hurt that he never would.
He tells himself that his crush on Lance ends, now.
Unfortunately, for him, Lance is persistent. His footsteps echo in the corridor.
"Keith, c’mon!" He calls out, scrambling to his feet and following Keith down the hallway.
It’s barely the next day. Coran’s good morning announcement echoed only minutes ago, and Lance is already hunting him down like a bloodhound.
Desperate to get Keith out of his funk after he ignored Lance the whole rest of yesterday
Regardless, Keith keeps walking, refusing to talk. He doesn’t even know where to go, without Lance tailing right behind him. But, he'll go anywhere at this point.
"I’m sorry! I was messing around,” Lance voices earnestly, “I seriously didn’t think you were going to get upset!”
Keith grinds his molars, willing himself to ignore Lance entirely. The problem is Lance has never been easy to ignore. He’s loud, relentless, and somehow manages to make himself seen, even when Keith is actively trying to push him out.
Lance catches up, grabbing his wrist. "Listen, I understand you’re angry with me. But don’t push me away like this. Talk to me!"
Keith whirls around, eyes blazing. "You seriously think I want to talk to you after that stunt you pulled? You must be more stupid than I thought!"
Lance’s grip tightens slightly, his brows furrowing in something dangerously close to guilt. "It wasn’t—that wasn’t supposed to mean anything, okay? It was part of the game."
Keith yanks his wrist free, glaring. "You don’t get to screw around with my head and then pretend it’s just for fun." He seethes, jabbing a finger to Lance’s chest, “You humiliated me! And for what, your own amusement? Like I'm some joke to you?"
Lance exhales sharply, frustrated, but unwilling to let go just yet. "Dammit, Keith, you always twist things like I’m only out to hurt you! You’re my friend, and I—" He stops himself, jaw tightening. Then, softer, "You might not believe it, but I do care about you.”
Keith stiffens, caught off guard by the honesty in Lance’s voice.
You're my friend.
“Then, leave me alone," He mutters.
“I'm not going to do that, Keith,” Lance says, softer. “I won’t.”
The worst part is, Lance sounds genuine. He always sounds genuine when he’s not deflecting with humor, when he actually looks at Keith with that open, hurt expression that makes Keith’s stomach twist.
Keith doesn’t respond right away, jaw clenched, the emotions simmering too close to the surface. He avoids Lance’s gaze, focusing on a fixed point on the wall instead.
“I don’t need you to pretend we’re cool,” Lance continues slowly, like he's scared of being pushed away. “You don’t even have to talk to me for a while if that’s what you need. I—”
He pauses, sighing deeply, “—I just need to know I didn’t lose our friendship. I don’t know how I’d feel knowing I was the one who set us back to how we were before.”
Friendship.
Keith glances at him, but Lance simply stands there, waiting patiently, his usual bravado nowhere in sight.
We could only ever be friends.
Therefore, there's no reason to carry on his feelings anymore. The fact this will never evolve into anything more should be enough to help Keith move on.
"Fine. I forgive you. Okay?”
Lance shakes his head, frowning deeply like that’s not good enough. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I know you’re still mad at me. Punch me in my face, or something."
Keith holds his gaze, unwavering. "Lance, we’re good. I mean it. Just, don't do that again."
And, for once, Lance doesn’t push. He doesn’t keep badgering Keith for answers or teasing him just to get a reaction.
He just watches Keith, eyes flickering with something unrecognizable, and lets him go.
"Yeah. Okay. I promise I won’t."
But Keith can hear the hesitation in his voice, see the way his fingers twitch like he's resisting the urge to reach for Keith again, to say something more, to fix something.
Instead, Lance just offers a lopsided, tired smile. "Guess I’ll see you later, then."
Keith nods once, short and firm, before turning on his heel and walking away.
Lance doesn’t follow this time.
And that should have made Keith feel relieved.
It doesn’t.
Shiro stands in the center of the celebration hall, diplomatic and proper as he exchanges gratitude and respect with the rebels.
Keith's fingers grip tighter around the glass in his hand. There are so many influential representatives here. Delegates from all across the galaxy have gathered to form secret alliances with Voltron.
It’s important. Shiro had made that very clear.
It’s a part of being a paladin.
And yet, Keith feels completely out of place.
He doesn’t belong here.
Still, orders are orders.
Keith keeps to the outskirts. It’s easier than dealing with whatever game Lance is trying to play.
Currently, Lance is being fake.
There’s an easy smile stretched across Lance’s face as he chats with strangers, laughing like it’s second nature. To anyone else, it would seem natural.
But at this point, Keith knows the difference between Lance being charming and Lance performing.
And this? This is all performance.
When Lance meets Keith’s stare, Keith quickly tries to pretend to busy himself with his cup. But when he looks back up, Lance has already started weaving through the crowd, smoothly. Fantastic.
He finally reaches Keith’s side, stepping in close, offering a smile.
“Hey.”
Keith nervously bites the inside of his cheek, steeling himself. Act cool. “Hey.”
Lance rocks on his heels, hands resting on his hip. He tilts his head slightly, giving Keith a quick once-over like he’s trying to gauge his mood.
"You enjoying the party?" Lance asks, too casual.
Keith shrugs, glancing around the crowded area. "S’fine."
"Fine, huh?" Lance echoes, raising a brow. “‘You really know how to light up a room."
Keith shoots him a glare. "Not all of us need to play the social clown to make ourselves feel better."
"Ouch!" Lance pulls back and flails his hand in mock injury. "You sure are in a feisty mood, huh? You gonna bite me, or something?"
Keith just sips his drink, unwilling to rise to the bait.
A few moments pass, thick with tension neither of them wants to acknowledge.
Lance shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Look, about the other day—"
Keith tenses instantly, fingers tightening around his cup. "Lance."
Lance stops mid-thought, pressing his lips together before sighing. He forces that easy grin back onto his face like armor.
"Right, nevermind," Lance says, voice lighter now, like he’s shaking off something heavy.
Then, without preamble, he rests his arm on Keith’s shoulder and points out the dancefloor.
"Why don’t you go over and ask for a dance?"
Keith deadpans to him. "I'm not going to dance with anyone.”
That earns an exaggerated eyeroll, which is annoying, because eye-rolling is Keith’s thing.
“Okay, Lone Wolf,” Lance sighs evenly, almost like Keith is the most exhausting person in the universe. “You’re seriously not gonna meet anyone by lurking in the shadows. You might have to, I don’t know, socialize if you ever want to get laid.”
“I—ugh, Lance,” Keith does not stammer. Talking about this with Lance doesn’t fluster him at all, actually. He’s fine with this. Entirely unbothered. “Is that all you ever think about? Getting laid?”
For just a second, Lance looks wounded.
It’s fleeting, almost imperceptible, but Keith catches it before the expression vanishes, replaced by that shitty grin. The one he gets when he knows he’s about to make a joke Keith will hate, but he’s telling it anyway.
“Yeah, I tend to think about that,” Lance teases. He pats Keith’s back, winking before walking away.
At least Lance is acting like his normal self again.
Keith, meanwhile, continues to stand around.
He spots a table lined with finger food and makes his way toward it, eyeing the multicolored dishes.
He tries one that tastes bitter and chalky, barely swallowing it down with his drink. Another bursts in his mouth like hot sauce and intense lavender. Weird, but not bad.
“I didn’t know you were part of the party favors, as well.”
Keith blinks, turning to find a Zarbrak, with tan with spikes on his temples, and captivating blue eyes.
Keith gestures behind him. “Oh—! No, uh, the party favors are over here.”
The alien smiles, shaking his head. Instead of correcting himself, he lifts a polite hand up to Keith to shake.
“The name’s Lex. I come to you in appreciation of your paladin work.”
Keith nods. He hesitates, but he ends up choosing to shake Lex’s hand. “I’m Keith.”
“Pilot of the Red Lion, right?” Lex asks, “I must say, red does look good on you.”
“I prefer black,” Keith says.
It’s not supposed to be funny, but nevertheless Lex laughs. “I could imagine you’d rather be the leader and pilot of the Black Lion, then?”
“Oh, god, no,” Keith denies bluntly, “I could never do that.”
Lex nods. However, his eyes glaze over Keith’s body.
“Well, I don’t think I’m all too hungry anymore,” Lex sighs, stepping closer to Keith. He offers his arm. “May you join me in a dance? So, we can get to know each other properly?”
Keith’s stunned. “No, um. I don’t dance."
Lex takes no offense. He simply bows his head, very graciously. “Another time then.”
Barely bowing his head back, Keith drifts off, scanning the crowd again. Eventually, he spots Pidge leaning against a decorative pillar, looking about as bored as he feels.
“You look like you want to melt into the wall,” Keith voices as he approaches.
Pidge groans, almost like she was close to death itself. “If only these walls could lead us back to the Castle, I’d already be halfway there. Too bad there’s no way for us to teleport.”
Keith hums. “I’d settle for a wormhole.”
Pidge looks over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Woah. Without any hesitation. You really hate this, huh?"
Keith scans the room with mild disinterest. "Not exactly my scene."
“Yeah, no kidding. You don't do well with political-social convocations.”
“You don’t think this whole place feels like a trap?” Keith tries to justify, “Like one wrong word and we could potentially start an intergalactic war.”
“We're kinda already in an intergalactic warzone Keith. Besides, I think you’d be the one we'd have to worry about saying the wrong thing,” Pidge jokes.
They share a laugh.
It doesn't last long. Keith lifts his gaze up from Pidge, and his breath catches in his throat.
Among the close bodies of rebels, Lance dances with a tall, elegant female Twi'lek.
His hands are on her hips.
Her hands are on his chest.
They sway together, fluid, sultry, like they’ve done this for a thousand lifetimes before.
Lance’s eyes lock onto her, all over body.
Keith watches, frozen, something inside him cracking before he can stop it.
The feeling lodges itself deep, sharp and unrelenting.
Of course, Lance’s laughing, touching, being touched.
Keith has seen Lance flirt before.
But this time, Keith feels like he’s watching something he really shouldn’t be.
He looks away, forcing himself to focus on anything else. But the shadow of the image lingers, burning into the back of his mind.
“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”
Keith blinks. “What?”
Pidge groans. “Don’t give me that. It doesn’t take much to see you do care about him. Might as well be honest with yourself when I’m asking you about it.”
Keith stiffens, his mouth suddenly dry.
“I can’t.”
“And, why exactly?”
Keith frowns. “It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s always complicated with you.”
He glares at her for the insensitive jab, but Pidge doesn’t back down.
“Seriously, what’s really stopping you?” She insists, “Who do you think Lance is? You think he’s gonna laugh in your face? Call you an idiot? He’s not like that, and you know it.”
Keith looks away, gaze flickering back to Lance, before looking down the floor.
“It’s not that.” Keith mutters.
Pidge raises an eyebrow, waiting.
Keith hesitates, frustrated. “I don’t know how to tell him, Pidge. There, happy?”
Pidge blinks, then lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “You don’t know how? Keith, it’s basic communication, not rocket science. You just tell him. Point blank. ‘Hey, I like you.’ There.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Pidge rolls her eyes, exasperated. “It is quite that simple. You could literally tell him right now.”
Keith rubs a hand over his face.
“Look, I’m not like him, okay?” He voices, almost reluctantly. “I don’t talk about feelings. I don’t know how to say it without screwing it up.”
“You seriously think Lance cares about that? He doesn’t say things right, like more than half of the time. What makes you think he needs some elaborate explanation?”
Keith doesn’t answer, but his quiet speaks for itself.
Pidge sighs, clearly annoyed. “Geez, you’re making harder than it needs to be. No wonder Lance gets tired putting up with you.”
That hits him deep. “Listen, I didn’t ask for your help,” Keith bites back.
“Okay, well, you never ask for help, anyways!” Pidge retorts back, “Like honestly, you’re just going to let Lance enjoy himself while you sulk in a corner? That’s your solution?"
"Then, you tell me what the hell I should do."
"Why don’t actually do something about it, instead of mopping around" Pidge shouts, "If you want to move on from Lance, why don't you already!"
The words sting.
But suddenly, it pushes him to do the unthinkable.
He walks. She tries to grab his arm, but he shrugs her off.
He doesn’t know why she sounds so alarmed, voice urgent with something, trying to call him back. Like she was trying to stop him from doing something stupid.
Regardless, he leaves.
He needs force himself to move on.
Past the forced, practiced laughter and the crowd of strangers.
Until he spots him.
The same Zarbrak from earlier.
Lex, he thinks.
Tall. Tan. Blue eyes.
Looks enough like Lance to make it hurt.
Keith stills, just for a second. His heart rages for him to turn around.
He steps forward.
“Hey.”
Lex turns, eyes bright, expression curious. The other aliens around him look expectantly in awe.
Keith clears his throat, forcing himself to stick to this decision.
“Still up for that dance?”
Lex smiles, clearly flattered. “Oh, absolutely.”
He offers his hand once more.
Keith stares at it, his heartbeat hammering.
Then, finally, he takes it.
Lex guides him through the dancefloor, his hand tightening around Keith’s own as they go deeper into the center and have to navigate through more bodies.
Keith tells himself it’s like Lance’s. Long fingers. Warm grip. Gentle.
They step into the slow rhythm of the dance floor. However, Keith can feel his movements are awkward and stiff, as he tries forcing himself to enjoy being here.
“I really don’t know how to do this,” he partially admits lowly, embarrassed to even say it out loud.
Lex laughs, warm and easy, like Keith’s hesitation is nothing to worry about.
It reminds Keith of Lance.
“You’re doing fine,” Lex assures, his grip gentle, guiding Keith through the motions, “I’ll lead.”
Keith nods, but the tension in his shoulders never quite goes away.
With a searching gaze, Lex watches him for a moment.
“Are you sad?”
Keith hitches his breath, caught off guard.
However, Lex’s tone isn’t teasing. It’s genuine, like he actually cares about Keith, despite the two of them having never met before.
“I hope I didn’t catch you at the wrong time,” Lex voices, worry laced in his words, “I didn’t realize until seeing you this close that you seem upset. Tell me, are you feeling alright, tonight?”
Keith’s breath shudders. He looks down at his hands, trembling.
Nevertheless, he steps closer and wraps his arms around Lex.
“No,” Keith whispers, “But, maybe you’ll make me feel better.”
Lex’s smile is small and understanding.
He places his hands on Keith’s body, steady and comforting.
Moving his hands to Lex’s hips, Keith tries to follow his lead, trying to let himself sink into the moment.
They sway, slow and deliberate.
Then, Lex spins him, shifting their position so Keith’s back presses lightly against his chest. Keith doesn’t fight against it, allowing himself to move as dictated by Lex.
Keith inhales slowly, the warmth of Lex’s presence settling against him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. He tries to focus on the way Lex’s breath is even and stares at Keith, calm and collected, like any of this was easy to do.
Like this was supposed to be natural.
Keith wants it to feel natural. Desperately.
He wants to sink into it, to let himself forget, just for a little while.
He looks up.
And locks eyes with Lance.
Lance dances with a new partner.
However, while she moves against him, her hands roaming, her body pressed against his, Lance no longer pays attention to her.
He slows in mid-step, his easy grin gone, replaced by something Keith can’t quite place.
Something that makes Keith’s stomach twist in guilt.
Keith’s body tenses up.
Lex notices, tilting his head slightly. He leans close to his ear. “Something wrong?”
Keith doesn’t answer.
He can’t.
Because Lance is still staring at him, watching the way Lex holds him, the way Keith lets himself be held.
Keith should look away.
He shouldn’t care.
But he does.
They stare at each other. Neither of them stops moving. But neither looks away.
Keith feels the burn of Lance’s gaze as it drags down, lingering on where Lex’s hands rest on his hips.
He mirrors it, eyes dropping to where Lance holds his partner.
Keith’s heart pounds, uneven.
Imagine that’s Lance holding you, his mind traitorously whispers.
Just pretend.
Then, Keith’s spun around, his focus on Lance pulled away.
He faces Lex now.
When Lex smiles at him, he tries to smile back. But it feels terribly wrong.
No matter. Lex gives Keith a pitiful look. He already knows.
“Would you like to leave?” Lex asks.
The question shouldn’t be so difficult to answer. And yet, Keith can barely breath against this chest-crushing sensation and booming heart.
For a moment, he tries to convince himself to push on, to enjoy himself and stay in the moment with someone new. Lex is attractive, sweet, and gentle.
Every fiber in his body begs him to leave.
He nods his head, pulling away, stepping back, breaking the connection.
Lex doesn’t ask why.
He simply lets him go.
Keith rushes through the crowd, weaving between bodies, barely hearing Shiro calling his name. He bolts from the hall, through the corridors, and outside the venue.
He doesn’t stop.
Not until he reaches Red.
The moment the cockpit seals shut behind him, the silence crashes over him.
Finally, alone.
Only then, does he break.
Silently, his shoulders shake. His fingers clenching into fists against his lap. He attempts to pull himself together, holding back from finally spilling over.
He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to force the tears to stop it and breathe through it, but the weight in his chest is too suffocating for him to bear.
He slides down his seat, crumbling under the force of it all.
Covering his face, Keith brings his knees to his chest, curling himself smaller and smaller, begging to disappear. Maybe, it wouldn’t hurt so much, then.
Is this how it feels to love someone you can never have?
Keith wants to rid this feeling.
He blocks out the knocking and banging from outside. Muffled voices, urgent and begging, trying to reach out to him.
Red makes sure no one can enter.
Because right now, Keith needs to fall apart to realize his feelings for Lance were never going away.
As long as Lance exists, Keith couldn't possibly fall in love with someone else.
And for once, he lets himself feel.