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“And to think I could have stayed home,” Lance groaned as he continued to press on the bleeding opening in his leg. It wasn’t gushing, nor needed immediate attention, but it still stung like hell.
Oh, and it made it hard for him to run. Which he really should be doing instead of hiding behind a rock.
Maybe he should start from the beginning.
See, Keith had contacted him a few days ago asking for his help with a Blade of Marmora mission. It was strange, but Lance considered anything to do with Keith and the Blade a bit strange, so he wasn’t going to question it. Keith’d been vague on what exactly he needed, stating that he wanted someone good with words and guns.
Making Lance the obvious choice for help, in his own humble opinion.
Lance only agreed after being given a few days to prepare and with the promise of provided weaponry. There was no way he would be bringing his old shotgun out to space to help fight whatever crazy things Keith needed him for.
Once his time was up, Keith picked him up in front of his house in a dingy looking pod cruiser and brought him to the new BoM headquarters. Unfortunately, Lance didn’t get much time to look around before he was dragged into the mission debriefing and then sent to his room to prepare.
Lance was only halfway dressed into his temporary Marmora suit when a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
“One second.” He quickly stretched on the rest of the suit, deciding the armor could wait until after his visitor said what they needed. “Okay, come in.”
The door slid open to reveal Keith, who walked in with a slight smile and a case in one hand. “I have a gift for you.”
“Oh yeah?” Lance eyed the case. “Is that what I think it is?”
Keith moved past him to set the case on the bed and unlatch the closing clasps. “And what do you think it is?”
“You know what.” Lance grinned as Keith opened the case, revealing an all too familiar sized gun. “Hello, bonita.” He whistled lowly as he took the rifle out of its case.
“You’ll want to finish getting ready, and fast.” Keith’s smile dropped as he went into what Lance liked to dub ‘business mode’. “We meet in hangar C in fifteen doboshes.”
“Roger that, team leader.” Lance gave a little salute as he put the gun down. When he turned back around, Keith was still there, staring. “What?”
“Oh, um.” Keith shook his head and stepped back towards the door. “Nothing. It’s good to see you again, Lance.”
Lance nodded once, a warm feeling spreading in his chest at Keith’s words. “You too, man.”
Keith left without another word, leaving Lance to finish getting ready and then find the hangar by himself. It took longer than he would admit, but he eventually spotted Keith near a ship and walked into the hagar bay towards him.
Keith wasn’t alone in front of the ship, as Lance spotted two other Marmora members standing with him. One was much taller than any human, clearly Galran with the spiked tail they were sporting. The other was much shorter, almost Pidge sized, and had the new member uniform on.
“Oh good, you made it.” Keith’s voice drew his attention, causing Lance to jog the rest of the way over.
“Yeah. ‘Would have been nice if someone gave me directions, but I managed.” Lance pointedly looked at Keith, though he was playing up his annoyance.
Keith merely replied with a smirk. “I knew you’d find us eventually.” He then turned to the other two. “Alright, you know your part. We’ll meet you down there.”
Once the other two departed, Keith’s attention returned solely to Lance. “Alright, here’s the plan. Those two are going to flank left on either side of the field to cut down support numbers, while you and I go center. Hopefully we can talk the leaders down, but if not we need to be prepared for fighting.”
Lance half-listened to the rest of the plan. It was the same old song and dance that the Blade had been doing for months now after the end of the war. Most Galra had joined the Coalition and aided with peace efforts, but many stragglers still fought back. The largest group by far was a bunch of Zarkon loyalists.
Which is who they’d be talking to. Whoop dee doo.
Lance tuned back in when Keith started walking away as he spoke. “We’ll be dropped down in this ship. Because we’re being dropped off, we’ll have to be extra careful as we won’t have an immediate escape route.” He stopped at the ship’s ramp. “Got all that?”
“Loud and clear, Mr. Blade Sir.” Lance saluted with a grin that told Keith he definitely had not been listening.
Keith sighed and grabbed Lance’s shoulder. “If you get hurt, I’ll kill you.”
Lance dropped the smile. “That’s counter intuitive, but I get it. I’ll be fine.” He took Keith’s hand off his shoulder and squeezed it once. “We’ll be fine.”
They were not fine, as it happened to play out.
The ringleaders of the loyalists were hostile at best. Lance hadn’t even been speaking for more than five minutes before the guy on the right yelled and charged. So much for diplomacy.
It didn’t take much for him and Keith to be separated. One swing of a sword got them both dodging opposite ways, and suddenly there were multiple soldiers between them. It was the worst case scenario.
Lance fought hard as he tried to get to higher ground, though it proved difficult with how out of practice he was. Allura’s sacrifice may have not been the complete end of the war, but with the Coalition already in place it’d barely taken a year for things to settle politically. Which meant Lance hadn’t been out on a battlefield for almost twice as long.
That also meant he was getting his ass handed to him.
Now, that’s not to say he wasn’t doing damage. He was taking out a good chunk of the fighters with his ever-accurate aim and his own fists. But there was only so much one guy could do. And he thought he was doing pretty well.
Until things took a turn for the worst with a burning sensation on his right leg. Someone had managed to nick him with a laser—a lucky shot, all things considered—right between the grooves of his armor. The bleeding was immediate and apparent.
Quietly cursing under his breath, Lance did his best to completely abandon the fray and take cover. Once he found an opening, it was a mad dash to the tall rock he’d spotted. It was only by a miracle that he made it to his hiding place relatively unscathed.
Except for his leg. Which, upon closer look, wasn’t bleeding as badly as he thought. The fabric of his suit soaked up quite a bit, but it didn’t seem to be spreading. Good.
Lance drew his leg in close, putting pressure on the wound with both hands. It stung bad enough to have him hissing through his teeth.
“Why on Earth do I let Keith drag me into these things…” Lance murmured as he leaned back against the rock. He could still hear the fight going on from the other side, but it was muffled under the pounding in his ears.
Lance closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath as he tried to stand. His leg protested greatly at the pressure, and he could feel the bleeding pick up again.
Flopping back down with a groan, Lance checked his belt for medical supplies. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Lance grumbled as he reassumed his previous pressure-applying position, “Why even give me the belt if it’s empty?”
There was probably a usual purpose for the many satchels on the belt, but Lance had neglected to fill them with anything before leaving, so it was definitely on him for their emptiness. Now that he was here, he wished he’d had the bright idea to throw in a roll of bandages or something.
Well, you know as they say: Hindsight is twenty twenty.
His personal annoyance was interrupted by a cough to his left. The sound alone was enough to tell him it was just Keith. “Oh good,” he spoke with a half smile. “You found me before I perished.”
Keith rolled his eyes and held out a hand. “Need some help getting up with that leg of yours? Our escape ride is here.”
“Oh thank goodness.” Lance took Keith’s hand and let the older hoist him up. “Where is it?”
Smile slowly withering into a frown, Keith pointed out to the battlefield. “The pick-up is on the other side. Think we can make it?”
Lance looked down at his leg. He couldn’t put much pressure on it. “Can you fight one-handed?”
Keith nodded, though he looked perturbed at the suggestion. “I can, but it’s not ideal. Is your leg really that bad off?”
Lance tested his weight on it again only to wince and lift completely off it. “Unless you want me bleeding excessively, I need to stay off of it.”
“I’ll be your crutch then.” Keith was moving before Lance could protest, looping an arm around his waist and pulling Lance’s right arm up and over his shoulders. “Ready?”
“One second.” Lance got his gun up and propped on his shoulder. “You better not get me killed.”
“I won’t if you keep me from being killed too.” Keith readied his sword. “On three?”
“Just go.”
Keith did as told and led Lance out into the fray. It was chaos. The clanging of metal and the firing of guns could be heard ringing across the field. Thankfully, lasers were far and few between with the obvious sword preference of their foes. Which meant a much lower chance of getting hurt as they rushed towards safety.
As scary as it was, Lance couldn’t help the wild smile on his face as he shot down those that tried to stop his and Keith’s escape. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the familiarity of battle. Or maybe it was Keith’s hand comfortingly holding him up on his waist.
Whatever it was that was causing him to smile, and his marks to glow, it went unnoticed by the team leader supporting him.
Keith himself was laser (ha) focused on getting the two of them to safety. Lance caught a glimpse of his face when he turned to deflect a sword coming their way, and all he could see were the knit brows and determined line of Keith’s frown. It set alight a fiery confidence in his chest that no matter what, Keith would get him to safety.
His focus on Keith’s face also happened to prove long enough of a distraction for him to lose his footing. Keith caught him, but his grip on his gun was lost. The back end of it that had been resting on his shoulder knocked into his temple, sending stars into his vision.
“Keith, I’m—”
“We’re almost there, Lance.” Keith’s fingers dug into Lance’s side in an effort to keep him from passing out. “Stay awake. We’re almost there.”
Lance did his best to keep his eyes open, but the events still went by in a blur. One moment he’s running on one leg supported by Keith, the next he’s being sat down in a chair.
“Keith?” Lance leaned back into the seat despite the cold metal sending shivers down his spine. “Are we on a ship?”
“Yes, Lance.” Keith kneeled down next to him, looking up at the younger. “We made it.”
Lance nodded numbly at the information. His vision swam with the motion and he could feel himself pitching forward. He was stopped halfway down by hands on either shoulder.
“Woah there.” Keith got him back upright. “Don’t pass out on me just yet. You can do that once you’re in the medical wing of Base Theta, okay?”
Lance gave a quiet, “M’kay,” and slumped in his seat.
The next time Lance became aware of his surroundings, he was waking up in one of those new horizontal cryopod replicas. The lights were bright above him, forcing him to squint as he sat up.
The first thing he truly noticed were his clothes. Someone had changed him into his pajamas. Specifically, his light cotton ones that he always slept the best in.
The next thing he noticed was Keith. The man was slouched in a chair beside Lance’s pod, breathing in such a way that told him the guy was asleep.
Lance reached over to gently brush a strand of hair out of Keith’s face. The movement startled the latter awake as he grabbed his wrist with wide eyes.
“You’re awake.” He slowly lowered Lance’s hand.
Lance nodded and took his hand back, folding it in his lap. “How long was I out?”
“Only a couple vargas.” Keith shook his head and stood. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Lance merely hummed as he watched Keith. “Did we win?”
“…No, but we can try again another day.”
Leaning over and reaching out, Lance took Keith’s hand in his. “We can. And we will, but even more prepared than this time.”
“Yeah.” Keith turned to Lance and smiled, squeezing his hand. “Especially you, Mr. Shot in the leg.”
“Hey!” Lance let go with an indignant huff. “It was just a lucky shot!”
“Mhmm.” Keith stared at him, his smile tight but otherwise unreadable. It made Lance wonder what was going on in that head of his. He didn’t get the chance, however, as Keith abruptly stood and headed for the door. “You should eat something. I hear the pods make you hungry.”
“Woah! Hang on now!” Lance rushed to get up and follow him. “I don’t know where I can get food! You’ll have to direct me.”
Keith blinked at him a few times, colour rising to his face. “…Right. Sorry.” He stood there, looking Lance up and down. “Do you want to get dressed first?”
Lance shook his head. “I’m comfortable in this. You’d have to fight me physically to get me back in that skin-tight suit.” He grinned, tilting his head to the side. “Unless you liked seeing me in something that tight?”
Keith only groaned and looked away. “Leave it to you to flirt the minute you’re out of a cryogenically induced nap.”
“You know it.” Lance laughed as the older led him down the halls. Every hallway looked so similar he would be sure they were lost if not for Keith’s confident stride.
“Here we are,” Keith announced as he opened up a double sliding door. “Enjoy.”
Lance walked in after him, looking around at the counters and smooth walls. He had no clue where to get food, much less where to start looking. “Keith, buddy, it’s been two years since I’ve been in a non-Earthen kitchen. You gotta help me out here.”
Keith looked a bit embarrassed but nodded and shuffled over to a wall. A press of his hand caused it to open, revealing a walk-in pantry. “Sorry. I forget that you aren’t used to this anymore.”
“I was never used to Blade stuff, but I’ve definitely gotten less used to space stuff in general as of recently.” Lance stepped into the pantry, hands brushing over various items in curiosity. “I should probably thank you.”
Keith followed him in, then passed him in a beeline towards a box of bags. “Thank me for what?” He held a bag out to Lance.
“For dragging me back out here. And, well, talking to me.” Lance accepted the bag Keith handed him. “I haven’t talked to anyone from Voltron in a few months, aside from Coran. I didn’t realize how much I miss you guys.”
“Oh.” Keith shoved the box back into place and opened his bag of what looked to be purple potato chips. “Really? I talk to the others all the time.”
Lance nodded as he backed up out of the pantry. “Really. Our schedules never seem to line up.” He shrugged and leaned back against the counter as Keith closed the pantry back up. “It is what it is. And at least it’s not like I’m alone at home.”
Keith frowned and moved to stand right in front of Lance. “You may not be alone, but it can still feel like it when you didn’t share the experience with them.”
Lance stared up at him, leaning back a bit more to make the small space between them feel less suffocating. Keith had a point. He was never truly alone at home, his family made sure of it, but the relationship was different. Veronica was the only one that came close to understanding him anymore, but even she couldn’t read him like she used to. Four years split apart by war would do that. With the other paladins—ex paladins—things were easier. There was a mutual relation between them all that made hanging out, chatting, venting, and everything in between natural.
But at home? With his parents and siblings? His cousins? There was always an underlying look of pity aimed his way. It was never intentional, but it still made Lance uncomfortable.
And it hurt.
“It does,” Lance finally admitted. “But it’s not like I can just call anyone on the team whenever. You all still have a role to play in keeping the peace.”
“And you don’t?” Keith’s brows knit together, a subtle disbelief in his tone.
“I don’t.” Lance shrugged. “I grow flowers in honor of Allura and tell her story on New Altea, but other than that I— I went back to how things were before; help out at the farm, babysit the kids, cook for the family every Sunday… And I guess the Allura stuff is still playing a part, but it doesn’t feel as big as your Marmora work, or Pidge’s technology, or Hunk and Shiro’s negotiations.”
“Then stay here.” Keith’s words had Lance’s eyes snapping up to meet the other’s. “It’s not just turf fighting here. We’re a humanitarian effort organization. And we could use someone like you here.”
“Keith, I…” Lance looked down at the floor. “Someone like me?”
“Yes, Lance.” Keith put both hands on his shoulders. “Someone experienced. Someone who works well with others. Someone passionate, charismatic, thoughtful, and kind. Someone like you.”
Lance gave a weak laugh and pushed off the counter, head still ducked. “You really think that of me?”
“Of course I do.” Keith chuckled too. “And I’ll say it again if I need to.”
Lance took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He took a minute to think over it, but there really was no point when it was clear what his heart wanted. Lifting his head, Lance’s eyes met Keith’s again. “Okay.”
”Okay?” Keith smiled, not even needing to pull Lance into a hug as the latter stepped into his arms.
”I’ll stay.”