Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time is a misunderstanding. Not a huge one, by Lance and Keith standards, but still one that makes the team all pause, the silence cracking through the ship’s helm.

“You’ll have to pretend we’re all a little more intimate than we typically appear. They want to see the connection Voltron brings even outside of the battlefield,” Shiro is lecturing, if only a little, and Lance is zoning out, as he has been for the last few minutes. “So, we need to be on our best behavior, and I don’t want to point fingers but that means you two, Lance and Keith, because they can’t see the mental connections and need to be convinced otherwise of your bond.”

Allura pipes in, “Yes, it’s imperative they see the connection you all share as just as strong as the paladins of Old! Your volatile relationship must be displayed as a bonus to your impeccable teamwork.”

All Lance can hear, though, is that they think he’s going to fumble this because it’s with Keith of all people, and he feels a little indignant at the implication. “Wait a minute!” He throws his hands up a little, huffing, and Keith’s eyebrows furrow beside him but he makes sure to pointedly look away, “You think me and Keith can’t pretend to get it on? We’re best buds!” And they damn well should be, a few years of space-exploring under their belt enough to ignore how they press one another’s buttons just for fun. He slings an arm over Keith’s shoulders for emphasis, and Keith grunts at the contact.

Hunk says, under his breath like a little tattletale, “I think you weren’t listening, Lance.” Lance ignores him, though, because he needs to feign his attention now.

“We’ll be fine, Lance is a good actor.” Keith doesn’t deny that he isn’t one, and it feels a little like a jab, but Lance is pleased to hear it anyway.

“Exactly! So if you need me and Keith to play it up for the cameras we’ll gladly do it, for the good of Voltron.” And he turns to Keith, then, who’s already looking at him curiously like he thinks Lance has also zoned out too much and like he’s second guessing what he’s also misunderstood. “Right, buddy?” He slips his hands around either of Keith’s cheeks, framing his squinting face, “You ready?”

Keith nods just slightly in his hands, so Lance believes he’s been given permission and leans forward to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. In the back of his head he hopes it’s the best kiss Keith has ever had, but he’s quickly distracted by the hand fisting in the front of his shirt and forcing him a few inches back.

“Oh my god, you were right.” Pidge groans, rubbing her face.

Shiro looks a little stunned at the display, and maybe a little guilty, like he should have realized Lance’s mistake before it steamrolled into Keith’s discomfort—but Keith, himself, is wearing a very neutral expression. He licks his lips, and Lance is distracted by it a moment, even if it was a very plain kiss that he shouldn’t be distracted by. “See?” Keith says, tearing his eyes away and looking to Shiro, “We’re great actors.”

“Definitely not what anyone meant,” Hunk muses to Pidge, “Glad they’re on the same page at least.”

Lance holds a fist for Keith to bump, and he only takes a minute to drop the iron grip in the front of Lance’s shirt and comply. “Best buds.” He re-iterates, not realizing everyone else in the room but him and Keith have chalked this up as a massive blunder. “Two stars, by the way.” Keith shoves him.

Carefully, Shiro begins again, “We likely won’t need displays of affection like that, but I’m glad to know you two are ready and willing to prove the Voltron bond between you.” He coughs a little, then scrubs his face and looks to the ceiling. Lance thinks it’s a tick longer than usual before he decides to speak again, and that’s the first indication that he’s going to have this moment rear its ugly head eventually. “Everyone keep in mind that, I repeat, we will not need displays of affection like that. Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Keith’s expression doesn’t change, but his voice is a little loftier than he’s known for when he shrugs. “I don’t mind.” Then, after a beat, he tacks on, “For the mission.”

Well, at least Lance is in the clear with that.

The silence stretches, festering, and eventually Shiro calls an end to the meeting just out of lack of perseverance. He assures them they’ll have another chat before touchdown, but they all usher out at the tail end of his words, eager for release from the awkward hellscape Keith and Lance unknowingly created.

It’s only later, at the post-alliance party, that Lance makes an off-handed comment about the bond of Voltron to someone fawning over him and they respond about the legends of Voltron’s incomparable friendship that Lance realizes, with all horror he can muster, that he went out of his way to kiss Keith just to prove a point that was wrong. And Keith didn’t mind, and he’s across the ballroom from him smirking his way, like he’s trying to tempt Lance to come do it again.

That look alone, Lance swears, ensures that he’ll be taking a lot of beforehand precautions to making that mistake twice.

There are little precautions able to prevent the inevitable, though.

Lance and Keith are paired together for a patrol around the kingdom of Aleta Orangle, and it’s so boring Lance could cry. They don’t need the paladins patrolling, and they had so much as admitted that fact when Voltron had arrived for negotiations. Voltron was an open invitation for Galra activity, and the three kings of Aleta Orangle, along with the negotiating kingdoms of the rest of the planet who had arrived to flank the kings, had made their position abundantly clear on the matter, facing them with nothing short of distaste.

Princess Allura was charming, though, of course, and they were granted their audience. It was a classic pull they were getting used to the more they found resistance to Voltron’s involvement—especially on planets that had only felt Galra’s touch in trade and not quite the genocide or planet desolation angle yet—first they would send Allura to master the negotiations, then they would use Shiro to show them the extent of Galra’s plans and the light on the horizon in the form of a giant robot, and then Allura would swoop back in to tactfully verbally abuse them into compliance for the good of their people, let alone their planetary neighbors.

Lance loved to watch it all unfold when he wasn’t too preoccupied with other thoughts, and today’s show seemed like it was going to be a good one, but he wasn’t allowed to partake. No paladin was, sent in teams of two to wander aimlessly and protect people who didn’t need protecting because this planet was just so peaceful and anti-crime.

So, he’s stuck with Keith—and Keith is ignoring him? That might be Lance’s fault, whining most of the beginning of their patrol about a small burn he has on his hand from where he was grazed with a blaster a few nights ago. The memory of the fight is fading in the blur, but Lance finds it a little harder to let go of the physical reminders he sometimes has from them.

His back twinges, and he sighs. That draws Keith’s attention despite his ignoring Lance, and Lance almost has a mind to ignore him back but the boredom is too much. Keith jostles his shoulder as they walk, like he wants to squish Lance off the grass walkway a little and Lance automatically bristles at the contact.

“That blaster barely touched you.” Keith reports, even though it isn’t his small burn to whine about so Lance doesn’t think he holds a lot of ground here. He continues, though, “I took that guy down to make sure of it.”

“Um!” Lance hoots loudly, “I took that guy down when I saw him pointing at me! You’re such a spotlight hog, you have to take my self-defense, too?” He crosses his arms, petulant, and looks away when Keith’s face twists into something a lot like confusion. Lance isn’t going to bother examining that, because Keith should know exactly why what he’s said will offend Lance—of course he knew Keith helped distract him, that doesn’t help his bristle, but Keith definitely doesn’t have to go as far as to say he protected Lance. What a joke.

Keith doesn’t respond for a minute, though, and their heavy boots crunch on the stupid crispy grass of the castle courtyard. “Okay.” He eventually says, even though it’s a pretty terrible response.

“Okay.” Lance crosses his arms tighter, something curling in his chest that feels cold. He hates it. “Anyway, that blaster did touch me, and I’m still mad about it. Burns suck to heal, and Coran only lets me slather it in that cold goo twice a day.”

Keith scoffs, “It’s the size of a quarter, and you use way too much of that stuff. It’s not good for you.”

That makes Lance laugh, more because he feels like he knows more than Keith does about this and it feels pretty satisfying. “Oh yeah? What’s not good for you about medicine, bud? You and your desert lizards never used any out in the wilderness?”

Keith rolls his eyes, more noticeable in the tilt of his head than in his actual expression, which Lance is still pointedly avoiding. “If you baby the wound then it’ll take longer to heal. Your body has to work out that it needs to heal it, and you don’t let it with all that goop doing the job for you in longer time.”

Lance laughs harder, “Okay? That’s just wrong. I’m begging you to ask Hunk or Pidge about that, they’ll love it.”

“It’s true,” Keith snorts like an angry bull, and he’s insistent even being wrong, so Lance keeps laughing. “Here, you can graze my hand and we’ll see who heals first—”

Lance howls, stopping in their path to bend down and clutch his knees, “I’m not shooting you so you can be proven wrong, mullet.” He has to wipe a tear from one of his eyes, shoving some hair needlessly out of his face if more so for the need to place his erratic fingers somewhere as they seem to want to twitch with the energy, too. “I think I’ll get along fine with my babying, since that’s what the more medically inclined of us let me do.”

“Sure, Lance.” Keith mutters, rummaging in the space between his thigh plate and his suit for something—Lance marvels a little at how he’s never thought to hide something there—and procuring a space lighter. He lights it and rips off his glove with his teeth, speaking around it as he flicks the green flame on, “What’s next, you want someone to kiss it better?”

The crunch of grass under someone’s foot comes from their side, and they both still in alertness. Admittedly, Lance is a little relieved at not having to continue trying to talk Keith out of burning his hand and decides that he’s definitely going to make sure Shiro gets the idea of delinquent Keith smoking space cigarettes in his mind so it’s properly confiscated.

They’re joined by one of the daughters of the three kings when they speak no further, though, and she seems a little sheepish. Her hands twitch at her sides, and Lance notes that each of her eight fingers seem to tap against one another in sequence before she speaks. “Can Paladins do that? I didn’t know there were others who were similar.”

Then, before Lance and Keith can respond to ask what she’s talking about or correct her, she bolts for the castle. Bewildered, they follow, wanting to ensure there’s no danger at her sudden appearance as well. Having three legs puts her at an unexpected advantage for speed, though, so Lance and Keith maintain neck and neck (read: Keith pulling ahead and Lance hissing at him to stop being such a slowpoke) until they’re at the castle doors, being ushered inside by the lines of guardsmen who all look distinctly relieved and full of pride.

They’ve been received by stranger situations, though, so Keith and Lance enter to ensure there’s no trouble and when the entirety of the court greet them with deafening blessings and thrown handkerchiefs and flowers, they don’t really know what else they’re supposed to piece together.

“Paladins!” One of the three kings boom, standing in his enormous throne and raising all of his hands. “What a distinct pleasure it is to be with those who share the bond of love and pain together!” The castle erupts again, and Lance distantly wonders if somehow they crammed the whole kingdom in to make sure they were witness to whatever he and Keith are being prepared for. “We hope that we may see this bond, as a treat in celebration of our newfound partnership in the coalition!”

It takes some squinting in the frankly massive throne room, but Lance finally spots Allura with Shiro and Coran, aside one of the thrones and staring at them with very wide eyes on her plastered polite negotiation face. The crowd seems impossible to silence, chomping at the bit for whatever Lance and Keith are supposed to do, and Allura slowly nods when she knows she’s caught Lance’s eye.

Lie, that nod says, we will discuss the lie later to figure it out. It’s not something he gets permission for very often in situations such as these.

Something clicks from their last few minutes. “Keith,” Lance says, loud enough for him to hear above the crowd. He shoves his hands onto either side of his head, cradling his own temples and groaning, “Oh, Keith, heal me.”

He curls in on himself and shuffles around a bit so he can pass off stomping on Keith’s foot as an accident. It works, drawing Keith’s attention in an indignant way and taking his eyes away from the overwhelming crowd that they didn’t have answers for.

“Sorry.” Lance mutters as soon as their lips are close enough, and they kiss. Keith doesn’t pull away this time, and Lance is grateful he got the hint and hopes they can never talk about it again just like the first one. He shifts against Lance’s lips, slow, and Lance thinks he’s getting really good at this, then promptly screams inside his head to shut himself up.

The crowd aims to take their hearing completely, and the doors burst open again to allow Pidge and Hunk in to see what the commotion is. At the scene, though, they can only pass a mask onto their faces as though this is completely within the realm of expected situations they could have walked in on. Laughing at the pair could come in due time.

Keith finally pulls away and looks down at Lance like he’s the only person in the entire damn castle. Lance tries to no avail to avert his gaze. “That work?” Keith asks, like he genuinely thinks it was going to.

He feels himself lick his lips and wants to rip his tongue out knowing he did it in front of Keith instead of waiting until they were back at the castle so he could cherish the sensation of what might be Keith’s fleeting traces—he has to stop. “Always does, man.”

“To Voltron!” The king booms, and Lance manages to wrangle his gaze away enough to look at someone at the edge of the crowd faint from crying so hard.

Later, Coran explains that it’s a blessed connection to have two people devoted to one another that they can relieve one another as Lance and Keith do, and it takes a lot of lengthy explaining to make sure he understands that it was an act and humans, in fact, cannot heal one another through kisses. He seems a little disappointed at the conclusion. It will prevent a lot of future healing confusion, at least.

Later still, Lance allows himself that fleeting lick to his lips, thinking about the feeling of Keith’s own. Then, he carefully blanks his mind and goes to sleep before he knocks himself out with the psychic damage he would be inflicting on himself with that train of thought.

It’s a long time before they kiss again, and it comes only just as they begin the race to what may be their last battle—what may win the war for good against Haggar and the Empire. There’s little time to prepare for something so big, and when lift off is planned and they’re coordinating a coalition meeting that spans dozens of planets and their respective dignitaries in one big space video call, Lance turns to Keith in the middle of it and whispers, “I think we should give them something to smile about.” Because there’s nothing but risk on the other side of the call’s completion, and there’s no well wishes to be had. Only somber and grim faces look through the screen at the paladins, and they know they can only look somber and grim in return.

“What are you thinking?” Keith whispers back, a lot better at pretending he’s not dividing his attention. They’ve heard Allura’s speech before, though, as passionate as it is, and they know they can spare a few whispers if they may be at death’s door in mere hours. A half a second later, he asks, like it’s completely normal, “You want to kiss me?”

And Lance does want that, especially with all things considered, and he can’t pretend it hasn’t been at the forefront of his mind in the face of some of the gravest danger he might ever come to know. He flits his eyes to Keith’s face, trying to convey a sort of false exasperation at the suggestion, but he knows Keith won’t look. It’s up to only their words, now, so he swallows hard and asks, “You lookin’ for an excuse?”

Keith’s hand finds his, slow, and it makes Lance stiffen with all kinds of complicated, too late emotions. He wants to curse at the frustration of it all, looking death in the face and wanting to turn to Keith as his light instead. “Looking for something to smile about.”

So, because they know when Allura’s speech will end and they know that they won’t be taking questions on this important matter so much as their report was a courtesy to those who have aided them thus far, when Allura reaches her conclusion, Keith squeezes Lance’s hand and Lance draws closer. As she’s saying her goodbyes and her thanks to the members of the coalition—who have watched them grow in the most depressing of senses from bright-eyed Voltron recruits to battle-seasoned Paladins that stand before them today—Lance lets his eyes slip closed as Keith crowds into his space, and they kiss.

Lance doesn’t know what he believes in anymore—he’s been in the stars too long to be confident of nothing else but that he knows nothing for certain—but he wishes more than anything for just this one other thing, on top of every other silent wish he begs the universe for. Their safety, their future, the fate of the universe, and now tacked at the end on a mental little sticky note, Lance asks the universe if he can please kiss Keith one more time when this is all over. They part with dark eyes, drinking one another in, and Lance begs the worlds if they can make it to the other side of this, all of them, if only he has a little more time to figure himself out after all of these years. He wants to feel this same moment somewhere safer, quieter. He wants them all to have the opportunity to stand at the other side of it all and think, well, it’s time for them to work on themselves finally.

“Thank you all. We will see you on the other side.” Allura repeats, pressing the disconnect on the call. Keith must not hear it close, though, because he leans in just one more time.

They live, though. They had to have, Lance thinks, despite feeling boneless and like everything has left his body when only the echoing of silence burns through his ears and it’s all over. They live.

His comms are all flashing, and when he raises a shaky, boneless hand to flip them on in the aftermath the first breath he hears is Keith’s, and he takes a breath as well.

“That sucked.” Hunk says, but he’s crying, stunned as the rest of them. Allura gives a humorless and breathless laugh in return.

Shiro asks for a rollcall, his voice heavy in their ears as if he, too, can’t believe the silence. They all report, one after the other, and Lance hears someone’s throat hitch when he says his own name.

Lance knows he’s freaking Keith out by asking for him personally, but he thinks Keith will be the best actor to help him out of this one and there’s only so many of them readily available in space to provide a daring rescue. It’s a little more of a delicate situation than Keith will be comfortable with, but Lance hopes their time apart on and off again as they work on the relief efforts hasn’t given them a fissure so deep they can’t keep up with one another as always.

So, Keith’s pod touches down in the courtyard of the Flordromed kingdom of the planet Xieta 67, and Lance wants to cry with relief. He gets to, too, because it’s part of the act he needs to sell, like, right now, and he runs forward accordingly before the pod’s landing sequence is even really completed. “My love!” Lance yells dramatically, mostly because he knows Keith can’t really hear it yet. The pod dissolves its helm, and Keith pops out with his mask drawn, defensive likely due to the very vague and strange distress signal Lance had sent him requiring immediate attention.

“Lance—” He begins, voice warbled due to the Blade technology. He hops down, and Lance barrels into him, allowing his legs to catch him at the waist like a human flying octopus and requiring Keith to plant his feet and bear his weight.

“Keith,” Lance breathes, unable to hide his relief but feeling very bad about dragging his friend into this. He finds the switch he knows will drop Keith’s mask under the guise of running a hand around his neck and squishes their lips together as soon as Keith’s surprised face is revealed. “I’ll explain.” He murmurs against their kiss, moving his head so at the distance the dignitaries will think they’re being passionate. “Work with me.”

Keith’s hands find his waist, a little tight, and he steps back as though he can throw Lance into the pod. Lance breaks from the kiss a moment and pretends to pant a little, pulling him back in and ignoring the furrow in his brow. “They have a shield. We can’t leave.”

“Paladins.” A voice beckons, and when Lance breaks away again he recognizes the darkness in Keith’s gaze, serious and understanding Lance’s distress. The Duke of Ukcellgix or whatever the hell they called the Queen’s cousin in this kingdom looks pained to be addressing them a little, and Lance clings just a bit tighter with a bit of satisfaction at seeing the expression. “I would invite you in so we may—” He takes a breath, his ruffled chest warbling, and his next words are gritted out, “Re-open our negotiations for alliance.”

“Oh, Marxin,” Lance coos, sickeningly sweet enough that Keith’s hands on his waist flex again, “Surely you can give me a moment with my love? We can join you again inside once our reunion tradition is complete, it’s very important to us humankind that we follow the ritual.”

The dignitaries flanking the Duke all flinch a little as he raises a hand, but then he lowers it and they seem to ease. Their responsiveness is really beginning to grate on Lance’s nerves. “Very well.” He grits again, “I will summon the queen shortly, please do not have her waiting long, Paladins.” He turns, one of his barbed tails twitching in a way that Lance feels a little sickened looking at, and when they’re far enough Lance turns back to Keith’s serious face and squishes his cheeks.

“Please look happy to be here.” He murmurs, taking a few grounding breaths now that he can afford to. He slots their faces next to one another, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder, and Keith’s hands tighten again before he decides he should finally react, sliding his arms around Lance’s middle. Lance hides his lips against Keith’s throat as he speaks again, not trusting anything around him except for the body in his arms, “Were you summoned by Allura or did you get my distress signal?”

“Distress.” Keith shoves his head into Lance’s hair to speak, likely trying to hide his lips as well at Lance’s unspoken cue. “You sent something to Allura?”

Lance sighs, long, and lets one of his hands rove around Keith’s chest and waist so it looks like he can’t take his hands off of him to anyone who may still be spying. “Four days ago, yeah. I knew they were blocking communication. I coded it so she knew to come but when she didn’t I knew I had to assume…” He can’t help but groan, and Keith turns a little boldly to place Lance’s hips on the wing of his pod, just a bit of a lift from where he was hanging around the other. Lance leaves his legs roped around him for good measure.

Something in Keith’s voice sounds just a little dangerous when he speaks, and his roaming hands are a lot more polite and tentative than Lance’s. “What do you need me to do? How are we getting you out of here?” Dimly, Lance thinks that Keith’s gotten a lot better at this over the years, and every time they work together even outside of the strange outlier missions such as these their teamwork is really at a master-level, like they can read one another’s minds sometimes. Even dimmer than those thoughts, in the back of Lance’s mind, he thinks to himself that he wants Keith to gather his arms around him and he wants to hear that gruff, stern voice again a million other times because he feels so warm and safe all of a sudden, even still in the thick of it.

Lance licks his lips and mentally kicks himself, like every time. “The Duke wouldn’t let me leave or see the Queen for negotiations until I considered his marriage proposal, and then they grounded me and won’t refer me to where my pod is. I don’t know if they know you were called here, but I told them you were looking for me because humans aren’t supposed to be away from their love for too long and you got worried.” He pulls his face back again, meeting Keith’s hard stare, and he marvels a little at how Keith can get better at acting over the years but his eyes will always betray him. He looks furious, plain as day, and Lance kind of hopes it’s not in regard to his summons for a silly problem like this, because it was kind of a big deal to Lance that he was a cushy prisoner.

“Okay.” Keith says carefully, “So—”

“So, I just need you to act like you own me more than these ruffled feather shitty little bird lizard people.” Lance huffs, hiding his face in Keith’s chest instead just in case the words are easy to read on his face at a distance. “And I don’t want to lose our leverage, so we’re going now.”

“I—We do.” Keith grunts, stepping back out of Lance’s tangled legs and allowing him the room to hop down.

Lance smooths the terribly tangled and uncomfortable robes the Duke’s waitstaff had imposed on him, twisting some of the fabric so it looked a little more presentable—not too presentable, that is, just enough to look like Keith ravished him respectably. Only after he’s done does he think to Keith’s response, “You do what?” He mumbles as they begin walking towards the castle, Lance’s arm thrown over Keith’s shoulder and Keith’s arm around his waist.

Keith clears his throat, then does so again, like he can’t force the words out. Eventually, when they’re a little too close to the castle for Lance to really allow them for more exchanges without fear of prying ears and eyes, he mutters, “Own you more than whoever this Duke Lizard Ass is. You’re a paladin of Voltron. You’re ours.”

Lance voice croaks a little when he assures, disregarding even his own rule he’d just went over in his head to stop speaking, “Yeah, all yours.”

Keith’s a sight to see at the negotiation table that Lance has long-since grown to loathe since his first night stuck on this terrible planet. He answers things shortly when asked directly, deferring all conversation to Lance at his side, whose hand is kept on display on the tabletop interlaced with his own. He lets Lance do the job he came here for, though negotiations are admittedly a little stilted when one party has been kept as a prisoner for almost a week. At one point, Keith whips his knife out and plunges it deep into the woodgrain just millimeters away from the duke’s fingers, to emphasize a point Lance doesn’t remember but feels was very effective. It’s also a fun reminder of why Keith isn’t sent for these diplomacy-specific meetings, but Lance doesn’t mind.

The queen is much easier to work with in the long run, and when Lance thinks of the hundreds of lives on the other side of Xieta 67 who were affected by Galra resource stripping that will be helped by the finalization of this treaty, he can’t stay too mad about his imprisonment. He’ll resent this planet for the rest of his life, sure, and he’ll never dream of stepping foot in the same room as the royalty of the Flordromed kingdom, but ultimately they secured the payload, and relief will finally trickle down from the kingdom to the suffering outer reaches of the planet.

Keith has other opinions, though, glowering as they walk down to where his pod was unceremoniously landed and miraculously left untouched. Lance tries to jostle his elbow a little, but it doesn’t work too much to lighten the mood.

“Six fucking days.” He bites again as they clamber into the pod. Lance mourns having to have a grumpy flight with Keith, having been told his pod was impounded as the kingdom had assumed he would be staying permanently. If Keith’s little glares could kill, and all. “Next time you’re somewhere uncomfortable for six hours I want the distress signal if it means keeping you from whatever the hell this was.”

That admittedly makes Lance laugh, and he lulls his head back to take his first real deep breath since arriving on the planet. He’s been through worse—a hell of a lot worse, at that—and Keith knows that, so he doesn’t take the bidding too seriously. “At least we’re lifting off now, jeez. I can’t breathe this air for another damn minute.” He scrubs his face, and the pod’s helm materializes so it can begin the lift off sequence, Keith grumbling each and every tick that it does. “I am going to miss that honeymoon suite, though,” Lance lies, just to be a little funny, “Not bad digs for a Paladin of Voltron if you don’t take into account the nightly visits from creepy little handmaids trying to get me ready for the wedding night.”

Keith slams a hand into the controls, jolting the pod to the side so the helm faces the castle and turning to Lance, expression furious. The helm dissolves again to open them to the view of their parting entourage, and Lance immediately pastes a serene look on his face again for the sake of diplomacy. “Buddy?” He asks through his smile, wondering how he can best phrase for Keith that he’s not actually allowed to fly into the castle and maybe whatever new piece of info Lance divulged wasn’t important enough for him to get worked up over again, because Lance would much rather be leaving.

Keith’s hands are gentle when they grab onto the front of Lance’s armor, but they don’t leave any room for objection as they pull him forward and then they’re kissing again—a lot deeper, a lot slower—and Lance gets a little lost in it from the sheer surprise of it all.

He makes a sound against Keith, only a little embarrassed at having done so, and Keith kisses even deeper, his tongue swiping at Lance’s as if trying to speak volumes through the lip lock alone, and that’s a new one for them. Not a new one Lance is complaining about, but still very fresh.

Lance is mortified to be breathless when Keith pulls away, snorting in that bull-like way but looking considerably calmer. He turns away too soon, and Lance is profoundly affected by not being able to catch his eyes and try and see what crazy-ass Keith emotion is simmering in there in the middle of this act. Keith waves to the dignitaries again, a little cheekier than Lance would typically give him credit for, and then he begins the launch sequence again as if nothing had happened, their helm materializing again to cover Lance’s dumbstruck expression.

He says, because he has no idea what else to, “Four stars.” Keith snorts.

Lance waits to lick his lips this time, when Keith has gotten them back to the Castle of Lions 2.0 and they’ve parted for the night on only-slightly-awkward terms. He stands in his room, lets the last few hours rush over him, and he feels very…high school, for lack of a better term, by the way he tentatively touches fingers to his lips and releases a stilted breath he hadn’t been fully aware was still trapped in him. It was different. It always is with Keith, but it’s all feeling effectively very different. Then, he licks his lips, and then bites them, and he has to force himself to stop for a lot of reasons, but mostly for his mental fortitude. He paces, showers, clips his nails, and fills his night doing anything but sleeping because he still needs to think and process and he keeps hitting a wall.

He does eventually rest, though, because he’s been prisoner for a week and he’s finally hearing the constant warm hum of the castle again, and how could he resist a nap in these conditions? Even Allura had told him to get some rest after their debriefing, an unreadable sort of regret in her eye.

When he wakes up, though, he licks his lips again, and he’s haunted a little by wanting to feel Keith’s tongue licking them for him.

Lance doesn’t get a lot of time to talk to Keith in a personal, quiet way he’s craving. He never has had the opportunity in general unless they were seeking one another’s company subconsciously or out of malice over the years, and when they’re grown in the aftermath of the Galra Empire it’s no different. They’re separated by missions and relief efforts, and in the times where they can pair together it’s never accompanied by plenty of free time.

So, after their heavy and heated kiss that’s quite literally been the stuff of Lance’s both dreams and nightmares for the last few weeks, he’s left without much to say when Keith and he are trapped in a small cavern with a conveniently closed off entry. One of Lance’s background logs in his mind must be solely dedicated to keeping track of how many times they’ve been the victim of a random landslide leaving them unable to escape without help, or any other fluke natural disaster that the odds of happening were increased by infinity because they were paladins. They hear the echoes of battle beyond the rock distantly enough for them to know that the slide had been significant enough that they won’t be getting out by their own hands.

Lance can’t find it in him wholly to mind, though, because it also meant nobody could get to them, and right now Keith was suffering. He’s being pretty macho about it, in Lance’s opinion, but his breaths are becoming shallow, and his helmet has already been set aside so he can clench properly in his hair.

This scenario itself is a new one, even if a fluke landslide trapping them isn’t. In the heat of the battle against some old Empire fanboys causing trouble for this sector, one had whipped out a needle the size of a finger and hissed something a little grossly at Keith about his true nature before getting the jump on him and injecting him in the thigh.

“Top ten things that would make a person afraid of needles.” Lance says, his voice bouncing off the rocks and causing Keith to flinch in on himself a little. He’s been quiet, not offering much more than a string of curses and a very brief and stilted explanation over the comms so the team would know to prepare a healing pod—and also find them, probably, because Lance had witnessed it from just a few dozen yards away and had taken care of Keith’s opponent from a distance before his hand had even left the needle. Then, because there was no immediate lift to the castle available, he had forced Keith into the closest cave entry and made him sit, fully preparing to run out of the entry away to keep watch for him and his friends. Then the rocks slid in.

So, he didn’t really know what was going on with Keith, but he periodically nudged him with his foot to make sure he was breathing and still conscious, and it looked to be good on those counts for him.

“Can we get an update, Lance?” Coran crackles over the helmets, making Keith flinch again.

Lance kind of wonders if Coran’s asking only because the updates from the other paladins had been pretty silent and he might be getting bored up in the castle. The large, ground-rocking blasts are starting to slow, as well. “Same old. Trembling and hissing to himself and he won’t look at me, totally Keith behavior.” He reports, sliding on the ground a little so he can be a little closer to the other at least in case things begin to turn a little more subtly.

“That sounds like him! Just a bit longer and it looks like and we can begin to assess the trap you two have wiggled into!”  

“Great.” Lance nudges Keith’s foot again, and Keith brings a hand from clutching the crown of his head to grip around Lance’s ankle, right where the armor in his boot flexes to allow the mobility. Quietly, he bids, “Can I help you, man? Coran can probably get some stuff ready if you tell me what’s up.”

Keith lifts his gaze, and his eyes are focusing in and out, like he’s trying to keep it all from going hazy. When they do focus on Lance, though, there’s just a slit to his eyes and a gleam that’s distinctly less human-like, and while it’s not wholly unfamiliar it is pretty disconcerting as a distinctive not-Keith look. “It feels like my leg is on fire,” He says lowly, lip curled in an inevitable snarl, “and I can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips.”

“That’s a good start.” Lance muses, not really knowing what else to say, “Anything else we should know about right away? Guts rearranging? Brain melting out of your ears?” He eyes the hand on his ankle but thinks nothing on it until it flexes again and Lance is suddenly pulled a lot closer by that ankle. He squawks, falling onto his back, but he can’t bring himself to kick Keith in retaliation while he’s addled.

“I might hurt you.” Keith says urgently, using his other hand to summon his inactive bayard and shove it at Lance’s chest. Then, he reaches for his knife and does the same. Lance looks down at his chest incredulously, sitting up when Keith seems done and letting both items clatter to the floor. “I need you to knock me out if I do.”

He drops his hand from Lance’s ankle so he can begin rummaging in his thigh plates to find some other mystery items hidden there. Lance scoffs, “Okay, very mysterious. Talk to me so we can figure this out.” At Keith’s far-off yet pleading look, Lance complies and at least bats the weapons further away. That seems to satisfy him, going back to rummaging.

“I can feel something simmering under my skin, I can’t explain it—”

“You’re itchy?”

“—I’m violent, or something. I’ve never felt like this before.” Lance calls bullshit on that, but a few heavy breaths fall from Keith’s lips and Lance unabashedly reaches out to tilt his face at his chin, feeling a little bold and needing to be the cool one for once. Keith’s eyes are betraying him again, and he’s looking pretty scared for as urgent and determined as he seems. He throws his gloves off and unfastens his chest plate, like he’s trying to make himself more vulnerable. If it were any other situation, Lance would be a little offended that Keith would insist on personal disadvantages to make it a fairer fight between them. “I feel like they just put a pure evil adrenaline shot in me.”

He looks like he wants to tear his gaze away again but something won’t let him. Lance leans forward into his space just a bit more, putting his palm to Keith’s forehead and moving his bangs so he can wipe a bit of his sweat away. “You’re going to be fine,” Lance says, because they have no reason to think he won’t be quite yet so he doesn’t see a point in thinking the worst, “Let’s take some deep breaths, you’re not going to hurt anyone.”

Ever the optimist, Keith grits out, “You don’t know that.” He swings a foot at Lance’s side to kick his bayard even further, then kicks again to get his knife away, too. Lance nods, because it doesn’t hurt if he’s more comfortable. Then, Keith puts his hands on Lance’s waist and takes that deep breath he was prescribed, then another. “You’ll take care of it if I snap.” It’s not a question, but it is a pretty big demand.

“You’re really blowing this out of proportion, I think.” Lance tacks on, immediately regretting it as Keith’s fingers flex by his hips and he thinks maybe that’s a little unfair of him to say when he didn’t have to take a needle today. He brushes Keith’s bangs again, and Keith closes his eyes to take another deep breath. “Is it just energy? Something under your skin, you said, so should we just do jumping jacks or something to have you tire out? Work it through your system faster?” The explosions outside the cave have stopped, so surely they’ll be excavating them soon.

The fingers on Lance’s hip curl more, and Keith’s claws must catch because there’s a small rip sound, and he takes another deep breath. “Maybe not that, then.” Lance says quickly, mind racing, “Lets do something calm. Is this helping? Do you need your mind off of it?”

Something clicks for both of them, but Lance doesn’t really realize Keith is thinking the same thing yet because he’s more focused on how inappropriate it is to think about kissing Keith now of all times and mentally scolding himself for it. Those are nighttime, only-after-insomnia type thoughts. “Distract me.” Keith bites, his voice and breaths heavy, and before Lance can really think about what else would distract Keith that’s a little more appropriate Keith shoves Lance’s helmet off for him and pulls him forward to kiss him.

It’s a hard kiss, but not in the overly-passionate way. It’s hard because Keith’s body is in the middle of rejecting whatever the hell is in it and he keeps biting Lance’s lip a little too hard with his dumb fangs and Lance—not knowing an alternative and thinking that they better fix it if they want it to actually distract them—pushes Keith onto his back and climbs atop him, using Keith’s momentary pause to correct their form. He laps into Keith’s mouth, almost, and Keith’s claws find Lance’s suit again, digging into his hips and back.

“Yeah,” Keith hisses when Lance lets him breathe, their chests heaving but Keith’s for a much different reason with all of that whatever-the-hell in him, “That’s helping.”

There’s not much more of an invitation Lance needs to continue, then, kissing him slow and long and keeping them ever-moving so Keith has something to focus on as the heat sears through him. He gasps a few times more than necessary when Lance tamely nips at his chin or below his ear, and Lance thinks the stupid whatever-the-hell is really putting him too far through the wringer, his heart swelling at Keith’s pain. He’s scratching deeply into Lance’s hips and back when Lance does something particularly thoughtful, and Lance doesn’t hold it against him even at the small stings. He can’t, not when he had guiltily thought of the kiss as well and it was all for Keith’s distraction. He’d let himself get a lot more scratched if it meant Keith wouldn’t be in pain, but then he thinks that might be in the exact category of Keith feeling violent and maybe this simmering under the skin is exactly what he meant—He hears something behind them and throws himself upwards, seated fully on Keith and ready with his bayard where the noise originated.

“Fuck.” Keith says emphatically, panting and moving his hands to Lance’s thighs. Lance knows even if he wasn’t trying to make sure they weren’t being ambushed at this exact moment that he wouldn’t be able to look at Keith, too afraid of his expression and not willing to commit Keith’s thoroughly-kissed face to memory only for his brain to use it against him when he had free time to remember it.

“Okay, put that thing down.” Hunk huffs when he shoves the last layer of rocks aside and light floods into the cavern again. He looks exhausted, and Lance is twinged with a little guilt for not realizing they were working on the rocks earlier so he could help from their side. “It’s just us. We have a stretcher, how is he?”

Lance melts a little, then thinks better of it and hops off of Keith, propping him up to ready him for the stretcher. “Thank space you’re here, he thinks he’s dying.”

“I fucking might be.” Keith says, but it’s quiet, and he’s looking at Lance with a lot of unneeded attention. Lance rolls his eyes, because he knows if Keith is sassing even just a little then he’s going to be fine.

The stretcher floats in, Pidge pushing it, and Allura emerges as well. They help Keith onto it and he protests a little, thinking he can walk, but he’s too shaky when he forces himself to stand and Lance bats his eyelashes just a little to get him to shut up and sit down.

They don’t talk about it. In Lance’s opinion, for the practicality of it, there’s not much really to talk about. It was another strange event in a mission that was kind of inevitable unless they were willing to solve the problem in a more complicated way. Sure, Lance didn’t have to think of kissing Keith right off the bat, but it’s not like they could play UNO or something to distract him instead.

Keith looks at him, though. He stares, long and pensive and often enough for it to start getting on Lance’s nerves, wondering why Keith isn’t at the blade staring at his buddies there to unnerve them instead of hanging around the Castle 2.0 to do it to Lance.

And Lance thinks about it, admittedly a lot more than he would like to be dwelling on it. When Keith isn’t staring him down across the recreation area then Lance is seeing that stare in every blink, wondering if he had looked at Keith, even through his pain, if he would have seen something like Lance feels whenever they do this to themselves because they’re stupid—or, he knows he is and knows Keith is, but he’s hoping they’re both stupid in this same way this time.

He walks towards the dining room one morning and, the doors opening silently, is greeted by Hunk laughing at something on his communication log. “And a congrats from the duke of Ukcellgix, apparently, on your engagement.” He coos at Keith, “It’s not a very friendly congrats and it kind of sounds like he wants to kill you, but it’s nice to hear you finally proposed to Lance.”

Keith snorts, though, like it’s a perfectly normal joke, and he speaks with his mouth full which is more than a little gross. “Working on it.”

Hunk laughs again, but his eyes skirt over Keith’s hairline to see Lance, and he colors probably out of secondhand-embarrassment for Keith’s joke.

Lance sits, silent, and dishes himself some goo, thinking. Keith’s eyes flit over, but nobody else speaks about the previous conversation. Instead, Hunk grants the room some mercy and reads the next log.

Finally, Hunk had said, working on it, Keith had replied, and thinking too much about this, Lance settles on.

Keith corners Lance like he’s some kind of feral cat. They’re on the observation deck, where Lance had thought he was alone while he tapped at some screens from his pilot seat, adding notes to treaty agreements and planning negotiations going forward for dwindling resources to be re-allocated and the like, and Keith appears at his side with his arms already raised, like Lance will need to be shushed from whatever he exclaims.

He does exclaim, almost jumping a foot in the air and clutching his chest. Whatever he had been typing is abandoned, because his train of thought is fully derailed when looking at Keith. He looks a little fussed over, like someone had tamed his hair and wet their thumb to smudge at his cheek and make sure he looked presentable, but Lance doesn’t have the slightest clue why. He looks smart, as well, dressed in some fatigues Lance hasn’t had the pleasure to ogle and poke a little fun at yet.

“Touchdown isn’t until tomorrow,” Lance teases, closing a few things on his screens and wondering where Keith’s planning on flying off to once they hit Earth again for a re-charge, “did you forget, hairbrain?”

Keith shrugs, hands still raised like he’s preparing to catch Lance and honestly weirding him out just a smidge. “I had something I wanted to ask you.” He says instead of rising to Lance’s weak bait. “Want to walk around the deck and stargaze a little?”

Lance’s heart thuds a little in his chest, thinking back on the dumb conversation he overheard from Hunk and Keith and willing himself to shut his brain off so he can have normal conversations with Keith again—or, ugh, their normal. “Sure.” He sighs, rubbing his eyes a little, “This was getting way boring.” The rest of the screens flick away and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he stands, taking a few steps to take the lead. Keith, with his hands in the air still, looks a little put out for a moment before he pockets his as well. Nothing to pounce at anymore, then, Lance duly notes.

They do indeed walk around the deck a little, finding old and new favorite vantage points to see the stars and planets swirl by, and sometimes Keith will point at a place he’d been as they pass and give a brief report on why it sucked or why he would live there someday, so Lance returns the favor with places he recognizes.

“We should do this again when we’ve landed,” Lance finds himself sighing, “The castle is so cool when all the windows are open air.” Only a moment later does he catch himself, sighing again but much quieter.

Keith scuffs his boot against the wall as he leans forward, seeming to think. “We should.” He says anyway, simple and plain and definitely not what he was thinking about.

So, Lance can’t hold it in anymore and has to nip his expectations in the bud, asking, “What did you want to ask me?” He shoves his hands deeper in his pockets, feeling them itch to twitch or grab Keith’s hand or something else that wouldn’t be helpful right now.

Keith looks confused, though, blinking and looking away from the stars to look at Lance instead, his eyes just as focused and sharp as ever. Lance, too, kind of feels like a star under that gaze and thinks Keith could look at literally anyone and make them feel like that if he tried. “I asked you if you wanted to walk around the deck and stargaze.” He says it slowly, as if he’s afraid Lance doesn’t remember where he is.

He can’t help the flustered expression he makes, his face scrunching a little at Keith’s sincerity. “Holy rabies,” Lance huffs to himself. Then, because he can’t believe he’s been freaking out about this on their walk when it was a joke he overheard, he blabs, “I thought you brought me out here to propose.” Unbidden even to himself he sighs again, though this time with some admitted relief.

Keith blanches, though, “I’m not going to propose to you before I have your mom’s blessing, moron.” He says it like it’s the only problem with a planned proposal, and the silence yawns in the corridor with them.

“Keith,” Lance starts carefully, treating Keith like the amnesiac this time, “You can’t propose to me until you ask me on a first date, idiot.” Then, for good measure, he tacks on, “What the hell?” because he feels the need to emphasize how strange this conversation is so Keith might get it.

He only rolls his eyes in response, though, beginning to walk down the corridor again and continue their path. “This is literally a date.” He gripes when Lance takes a second to begin following again, “Also, we have dinner planned for Thursday.”

When Lance is closer again, he can detect the minute details in Keith’s own composure faltering—his cheeks are just a hair flushed in the dim lighting, his eyebrow is twitching just slightly, and he’s definitely got his jaw clenched. “Oh is it?” Lance asks, sliding an arm over Keith’s shoulders and unable to contain his wild grin, “Oh do we?”

Keith rolls his eyes again, though it’s a little more pointed and he fixes his gaze resolutely on the windows as they keep walking. “It is. We do. Nice of you to remember, asshole.”

Lance can’t help his laughter, then, pulling Keith in as close as he can on his side while it wracks through him. Keith makes them stop in their tracks again while Lance gets over himself, but Lance takes it as an opportunity to pull Keith in closer, throwing another arm over him and leaning in to kiss him. Keith responds in kind, not an inch of nerves to match Lance’s own. He kisses like it’s the ten-thousandth time they’ve done it—and, you know what? Maybe it is—but he hasn’t tired of it, and they’re pliant with each other at each push and pull.

When Lance pulls back just a fraction, hands cupping Keith’s warm face, he does so just so he has somewhere to put his grin for a few moments while he can’t resist the urge to let it out. Keith snorts like a bull in his hands, a smirk on his face and his eyebrows still twitching just a bit.

“I love you.” Lance says, just because he doesn’t know what number of date this is technically to Keith but he knows it’s true, so Keith might as well know it, too. He can’t even tamp his smile down for another proper kiss, peppering them onto Keith’s face as an excuse. “Thanks for finally asking me out, I guess.”

Keith pinches his side a little, but he hums when Lance kisses under his eyebrow. He’s serious, as he truly always is when it comes to Lance, when he speaks again, “You’re welcome. Love you, too.”