Archive of Our Own

The war ends on a Friday. Years and years of fighting and death come to a halt on an unremarkable Friday in April and just like that, it’s all over. 

Allura kills Honerva, executes her with fury and fire glowing in her eyes and for a moment, Lance thinks that she is a godly, terrifying being, and not for the first time he wonders what she is doing with someone like him. She collapses in his arms, tired and spent and Lance tucks her hair behind her ear with reverence. 

The other paladins crowd around them in shock and awe, sparing disbelieving glances at Honevra’s corpse almost fearfully as though she may come alive at any moment. But she stays dead and Allura opens her eyes, groaning faintly, residuals of cosmic power smoldering in her irises. 

“Hey,” Lance whispers, smiling adoringly as he trails a finger down her face. 

She rises, leaning against his chest. “What happened?” 

“It’s over,” Keith replies behind him, voice steeped with relief and exhaustion. The rasp that leaves his mouth threatens to send a shudder through Lance and he tamps down the uncontainable urge to turn around and look at him. “You did it.”

She glances at the lifeless body of the creature that’s been terrorizing them for years, terrorizing her for centuries. 

In a moment of weakness, he gives in. When it comes to Keith, he knows better than to resist. He looks up and catches Keith’s eye. There’s a quiet sort of defeat there; one that ripples through his features and casts a shadow of regret across him, one that has no place in this victorious moment. He looks as though he’s watching the last, dying moments of something before it’s lost to him forever, watching it slip through his fingers, never to be caught in his grasp again. 

If it were just the two of them, Lance may have managed to wrangle the truth out of him but instead, he watches with a deep, unsated feeling as Keith reluctantly tears his gaze away from him until he too, feels as though he’s reached the conclusion of something even he cannot name. 

Allura’s hand slips from his as she stands to her feet. Lance’s gaze is still stuck on the side of Keith’s face. 

They’ve won the war but looking at him now, Lance feels as though he’s lost a different kind of battle entirely. 

It happened once, a long time ago but it still haunts him to this day. 

He doesn’t know how it came about or even why. Maybe it was the pressure of leading a team together against a tyrannical Empire, maybe it was because no one else but the two of them knew what it was like to hold the lives of four other people in their hands and willingly lead them into danger every day, not knowing if any of them would return safely. 

But maybe it was because they got caught up in the moment. They were high off the victory of a tough mission, left alone in a dark corner of the Castleship, tipsy off a bottle of Altean alcohol they’d found in the cargo hold. One minute they were laughing, shoving each other over lame jokes, and the next minute their clothes were on the floor around them, gasping into each other’s mouths, skin pressing against skin in a moment of complete abandon that had changed everything irreversibly. 

He doesn’t remember much, his memory blurred by the alcohol. But he remembers telling himself that it was the accumulation of tension that had hung in the air between them, because it was always there, growing and biding its time. The undeniable crackle of electricity between them, his lingering touches, secret smiles, and stolen glances had reached a turning point, leading them to grasp at each other desperately. They could hide it all under the guise of friendship, but they both knew it was something greater than that, something far more dangerous than what they were willing to risk naming. 

To make matters worse, they never spoke of it after, never even acknowledged that it happened, glossing over it like it was nothing more than an inconsequential blip in their lives; an accidental misjudgment. But it was bigger than that for Lance, his touch had burrowed under Lance’s skin and put down roots, growing uncontrollably in his veins and altering the very essence of his being. The feel of his mouth on Lance’s skin had tormented his waking moments, leaving him aching with longing. He spent the following weeks in agony, trying to seem like it didn’t affect him when in reality, it was tearing him apart. 

Keith couldn’t look Lance in the eyes either, as though doing so would make it more real than they could face. He knew Keith was disgusted, that he had hated Lance for ruining the one good thing between them. His eyes had a coldness that he’d never seen before, as though he could not stand him. Being shunned by Keith was like being exiled from the only home he ever knew. 

It became impossible to be in the same room together, because Lance was constantly fighting the urge to reach out and touch him one last time, to grab him and demand that he tell him what it meant to him because the silence was killing him, whilst Keith stood with his arms crossed against his chest like a shield, resentment creasing his features. 

They were never the same after that. He’d lost the right to call Keith his best friend and their relationship was strained under words unspoken, under the weight of their disregard for what it meant to the both of them. 

And then, Keith had left for the Blade, taking all his words with him. 

Lance was left reeling, lost at sea with his feelings as tumultuous as the waves. He’d turned to Allura because though he’d never told her what had happened with Keith, he could understand what happened with her and Lotor. 

He didn’t believe she truly loved him, because sometimes she looked at him like she wished he were someone else, someone with lilac skin and pale hair, but he couldn’t say anything because sometimes he wished she were someone else, someone with lilac eyes and dark hair. Perhaps they were both using each other to pass the time, to replace the one they truly wanted. Perhaps she was just the right person at the right time. 

He still saw Keith in places where he didn’t belong; saw flashes of pale skin and tangled dark hair when his hands were on Allura, felt the hard lines of a firm body when he’d touched her soft, supple flesh. He heard the echoes of a breathy, deep sigh in place of her high, happy giggles, and the flavor of his sharp aftertaste that still lingered at the back of his throat mingled with the taste of her strawberry lips when he kissed her. He woke in the middle of the night holding her, the last vestiges of a wistful dream with violet eyes and a crooked smile leaving him with a pounding heart and wishing Keith was in his arms instead. He knew it was wrong, that he was a sick, twisted bastard undeserving of her. 

Then Keith came back and he’d changed. He was sure of himself, no longer a childlike, angry boy but a young man certain of himself. He could look Lance in the eyes again and he even smiled like everything was behind them. But it was still there; this dark, terrible secret wedged between them, driving them farther away each day until Lance feared that he might lose Keith entirely. Lance was still in agony, he was still aching with longing, caught in a moment long gone that would never return. He didn’t know what else to do but keep up the facade of being infatuated with Allura whilst his heart throbbed inside his chest every time Keith entered a room. 

Perhaps no one was ever in love. Perhaps everyone was living a lie. 

Lance knows it’s coming weeks before she says the words. 

She doesn’t touch him as much anymore, doesn’t blush under his attention like she used to do. He feels like he’s trying to keep alive a relationship that’s already dead, like watering a plant reduced to gnarled roots in the hope that it might flower again.

“I don’t think this is working anymore,” she says one night. 

She’s been gone more and more, leaving for days on end to put together a rescue mission for the Altean colony Lotor had hidden away. Sometimes, Lance thinks she’s trying to keep his memory alive more than she’s trying to help the last of her species. Then he curses himself for thinking such a thing. 

“What isn’t working?” he asks innocently. 

“This,” she snaps impatiently, like she can’t wait to be rid of him. “Us, Lance.” 

He carefully places his lotion down. “Why not?” he asks, turning to her. 

“We’re not—we’re not who we used to be,” she sighs, like she’s explaining something to a small child. “I don’t feel we’re compatible anymore. Not romantically at least.”

“We’re plenty compatible,” he laughs. “I can’t think of two people more compatible than us.” 

“I’m serious Lance,” she says, her brows drawn in sympathy. He feels stupid, suddenly. “We haven’t been us in a long time. You know it’s true. We both know it.” 

“That doesn’t mean we have to throw in the towel,” he argues, feeling like he’s dangerously close to begging. He won’t do that, he won’t. “We keep trying. That’s what we do.” 

Allura shakes her head and a strand of silver hair falls across her face. He stares at it pathetically. He doesn’t remember the last time her hair was tangled between his fingers. It’s been over for far longer than he’d realized. 

“I don’t want to keep trying,” she replies. She chews her lip and Lance braces himself. “I’m sorry Lance but… I don’t… love you anymore,” she says, but she forces the word love out like it’s something sour in her mouth, something her tongue cannot work around. 

It doesn’t hurt. Not like he’d expected it to. He doesn’t know what to make of that. 

“Did you?” he asks quietly. “Ever love me at one point?”

Her brows furrow in thought. “I don’t know,” she admits at last. “Did you?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Maybe more as a friend.”

Her shoulders slump in relief. “Me too.”

They sit together on their bed. Lance thinks he’ll have to move back to his apartment and starts cataloging things he needs to take with him. His skincare supplies. His clothes. His toothbrush. He figures Allura can keep his favorite shirt as a keepsake, seeing as she wears it more than he ever has. 

“Well… at least we had a good run,” he says in the end. “A whole nine months worth.” 

Allura laughs. It sounds brighter now. He wonders how long they’ve been lying to themselves, how long they’ve been pretending to be happy. 

“Yes, I suppose we did,” she says, taking his hand. “You know I still hold you in my heart. You’re family to me.” 

“I know,” he replies, squeezing her hand. “You are too.”

“Then I feel I should tell you that life is too short to keep up appearances,” she says, staring at him with meaning. “If you really want something, you should go get it.”

His heart pounds in his chest. Lance tells himself she can’t know. It can’t have been that noticeable. 

He watches her carefully. “What if that something doesn’t want me?” he asks. 

“You won’t know if you don’t try,” she replies gently. The kindness of her words splinters something in him and he suddenly feels like crying, like dropping at her feet and begging for her forgiveness. She’s always been too good for him. “Take your own advice, Lance.”

Lance smiles ruefully. “Yeah, I give pretty good advice right?”

Allura laughs despite herself. “Yes, I suppose you do,” she admits, her eyes glistening as she leans into him one last time.  

Lance wraps his arm around her and they sit together, laughing quietly. He hadn’t realized until now, how easy everything feels again when they hadn’t in a long time. 

The Garrison catches wind of their breakup a few days later and by that time, Lance has already moved back to his apartment. A week later, the papers and the media catch on, spreading the news like wildfire across the universe until even The Intergalactic Times prints their faces on its front pages.

Nation’s pride Lance McClain splits from girlfriend Princess of Altea. 

“It was a mutual decision”: Allura of Altea breaks up with Lance McClain just months before their first anniversary. 

Voltron’s co-leader Lance McClain breaks silence on Princess Allura split: “Things came to a natural end.” 

Lance and Allura take up the headlines for weeks. The Garrison has to tighten its security measures after a reporter sneaks in under the guise of a service engineer to take pictures of him and Allura in the private quarters cordoned off for the Paladins. Lance doesn’t realize how big the news is until he tries to leave for a diplomatic meeting on New Daibazaal and sees a large crowd of reporters and photographers waiting for him outside.

He’s the second to arrive, chaperoned by his two guards to find Keith in the new penthouse they’ve reserved for the Paladins. The others are still days away from reaching New Daibazaal. He’s leaning against the balcony overwatching the city, his Blade suit hugging the hard lines of his body, hair swaying with the breeze. Lance remembers their softness, twisted between his fingers. He draws in a shaky breath and comes to stand beside Keith, swallowing tight. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to dispel the air of awkwardness. 

He hasn’t seen Keith in a while. He looks good, Lance notes in dismay. They’re all too busy doing their own things these days, running around attending diplomatic meetings and press conferences but rarely together in the way they used to be. 

“Hey,” Keith replies easily, giving him a sideways glance. “Sorry about your breakup.”

“So you heard,” he says cautiously. 

“Hard not to, with you being an intergalactic celebrity,” Keith rolls his eyes. “I had five separate reporters come up to me on my way here, asking for an exclusive insider source about what I think.” 

“So?” Lance asks, his heart thumping against his ribcage. 

Keith frowns. “So what?”

“So what do you think?”

Keith stares at him for a moment, his frown deepening. Lance wants to reach out and smoothen out the creases on his skin. He clenches his hands into fists. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It does to me.”

A flicker of indecipherable emotion flashes in Keith’s eyes before he turns back to the city below them.

“What do you want me to say? That I knew you two weren’t going to last long?” Keith asks sharply.

Lance’s heart gives a startled leap. “If that’s the truth.”

Keith shakes his head. His hair is longer than Lance remembered. There’s a new mole below his eye. Lance watches him, wondering just how much has changed. 

“The truth doesn’t matter.”

“Then what does matter?

“That you’re happy,” Keith says earnestly. Lance’s breath hitches in his throat, his heart thudding in his chest ecstatically. A sprout of hope threatens to bloom in him but he stamps it down before it can grow. “Were you? Happy with her?”

Lance looks down at his clasped hands. “It was good while it lasted.”

Keith turns to him, a brow raised in question. “That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he admits. Keith has always managed to get the truth out of him, being the only person Lance trusts to confide in honestly. “I wasn’t happy.”

“Why?”

He hesitates, running his fingers over his knuckles. “Our hearts weren’t really in it,” Lance settles on at last.

When he means, she wasn’t you. 

When he wants to say, you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted. 

Keith is silent for a long moment. “Well… I hope you find someone better.”

Lance thinks he won’t find anyone better than Keith for as long as he lives. “Thanks.”

They stand side by side, staring down at the city. The Galrans who had given up fighting for the Empire after Honerva died had decided to settle on a planet and build a home for themselves. New Daibazaal is still a fledgling and the Galrans are still looking for someone to lead them. Despite being liberated from the Empire, thousands of years under control have made them dependent on a ruler. A ruler that’s rumored to be Keith. 

“Heard you’re the new prospective Crown Prince for the Galra Empire,” Lance says. “I should offer my congratulations.” 

“Don’t get your hopes up just yet, I never said I’d do it,” Keith rolls his eyes.

“What? Why not?” 

“Are you kidding?” he asks. “You want me to lead an entire species that waged war against the universe since the beginning of time? I’ve done enough leading to last a lifetime.”

Lance shrugs. “I dunno man, you weren’t half bad with Voltron.” 

Keith huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s only because I had you with me.” 

Lance stills. The way he says it, like he doesn’t have Lance with him anymore makes him realize just how much distance has stretched between them, creating a bridge neither of them knows how to cross. Before everything went to shit, Lance would not have heard of the plans for Keith to become the new Galran leader through the news. Instead, he would’ve heard it directly from Keith’s mouth before it reached anyone else’s ears. He’s sick of it, of being an outsider on the fringes of Keith’s life, of learning about him from the papers and the media. But he’ll take what he can over being exiled out of Keith’s life completely. He’d rather watch from the outskirts than to not have him at all because that’s something Lance cannot even fathom. 

“You still have me,” Lance replies quietly, his chest giving a twinge of sorrow. “If you decided you wanted to become an Emperor after all, I’d still stand by you.”

Keith doesn’t meet his eye. “I know,” he says. 

Lance grips the metal railing, allowing the biting cold of the metal to numb his hands. “What’re you gonna do instead?”

“I’ve been thinking of turning the Blade into some kind of humanitarian relief organization,” Keith replies. “I want to go back and help all those people we had to leave behind.”

“That’s amazing Keith.” 

Keith turns to him, surprise written across his features. A hesitant smile spreads across his lips, brightening his entire face and Lance’s heart seizes with a surge of fondness that leaves him breathless. 

“Thanks,” he says gently. 

Lance looks away, unable to bear the sight for fear that he may say or do something that he will never be able to take back. “You’re welcome.”

“What will you do?”

“Apparently Kolivan’s retiring and Shrio’s being promoted to Admiral. He told me they have an open spot for a Commander and I’ve applied, I’m just waiting to hear back,” Lance says, gauging Keith’s reaction.

“Commander McClain, huh?” Keith asks, lips tugging up almost proudly. “Has a nice ring to it.”

Lance smiles. “Thanks.”

“Who better to train the new generation of pilots than the Red Paladin,” Keith muses. 

He gives a self-deprecatory scoff. “Trust me, I can think of about a dozen other people.”

“Stop that,” Keith admonishes. “I can’t think of anyone better for the job. Plus, you were always good with kids even in the worst of situations. You’ll do great.”

“You really think so?” he asks uncertainly. 

Keith’s eyes lock onto his, and Lance feels his heart stutter and stumble in its haste. “I know so.” 

“Thanks,” Lance gazes at him, captivated by his conviction. Sometimes, he wishes he believed in himself the way Keith believes in him, with the kind of indisputable faith that others reserve for divinity. 

He wants to tell Keith that he doesn’t deserve it, that he doesn’t deserve anything from Keith because Lance is nothing more than a wretched, miserable man holding onto Keith like a dog with a bone; his teeth sunk in until he’s drawing blood, his claws breaking skin and leaving scars. He wants to tell Keith other things too, things that he’s too afraid to even think about but instead, he falls into a silence that chokes him, a surge of words climbing into his mouth and desperate to escape past his lips. Lance grits his teeth and swallows them down, they stick to his throat, caught and trapped, suffocating him with confessions that he refuses to voice.

And he stands beside Keith, fighting for air. 

He misses Keith until he’s insensate with longing. He misses his warm presence and the scent of smoke and gunfire that lingers around him like a shadow, misses it like a trigger beneath his fingertip. He thinks of Keith and an ancient hunger rouses in him, primal as though his feelings for Keith were etched into his bones from the very moment he was created. He thinks he was born wanting Keith. 

Beneath the moonlight, he looks up at the stars and thinks of the galaxies beyond them, thinks of Keith’s violet eyes. He remembers Keith telling him once that he could never go back to Earth and stay there. Perhaps no one ever gave him a reason to. He doesn’t remember if it was the same night he kissed him. Everything is split into the time before they kissed and the time after they kissed, as though Lance did not exist up until then, floating through space senseless and unaware before Keith reached out and touched him, awakening him from oblivion. He carries Keith’s touch on his skin like a scar, like a wound, spilling blood all over him and festering with decayed desire. He can still feel it, ghostly fingers skimming down his back until he doesn’t know what to do with his body, where to put his hands. His heart beats solely to the rhythm of Keith’s breathing like the ocean’s lungs rise with the moon, every breath reliant on her presence. 

Without Keith, Lance is nothing. 

“The best advice I can offer you is to create boundaries with the kids,” Shiro tells him. “God knows I let you troublemakers go over my head sometimes.”

“That explains a lot,” Adam chimes in, smiling smugly. The scarred skin of his face pulls with the movement. For a moment, Lance wonders if it still hurts, after almost a year of countless surgeries and healing.

“Hey,” Shiro elbows his fiancé. 

“What? Look at the way Keith turned out,” Adam argues. Lance tries to resist the pull of his gaze toward Keith. “You spoil your kids too much. You have no one but yourself to blame.”

He surrenders to the temptation. Lance glances over in Keith’s direction, trying not to let his gaze linger in the way it usually does. He’s conversing with a diplomat, nodding along to whatever he’s saying but Lance sees that bored, faraway look in his eye and knows he’s thinking about something else entirely. It’s rare to see Keith at social events these days, especially ones he chooses to attend of his own volition. But this one is a cause for celebration as the Voltron Coalition has managed to ally with the third-largest Galra faction that had broken away from the Empire during the last stages of the war, and they have Keith to thank for that alliance. 

His long hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, drawing attention to his sharp jawline. He’s maddeningly beautiful, and Lance feels that all-too-familiar inescapable pull to him, beckoning him forward. He keeps his feet rooted to the spot and with great difficulty, wrenches his gaze away from Keith. 

“You had a part to play in that as much as I did,” Shiro insists. “Besides, he did good for himself.” 

“No thanks to you,” Adam mutters. 

Shiro slaps Adam’s hand before grabbing it and squeezing affectionately, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Will you stop that?”

“Honestly Takashi, what do you want me to say?” Adam asks almost disappointedly, but Lance can see the amused smile tugging on the edges of his lips. “You got kidnapped, and you let him take over a superweapon that had the fate to make or break the universe? What did you expect? A clap on the back?”

“In my defense, it wasn’t just him,” Shiro says, and Lance jerks his straying gaze away from Keith’s general vicinity, rounding onto Shiro and Adam. “He had Lance with him,” Shiro nods to Lance approvingly.

“At least one of you had enough sense between you two,” Adam says playfully. 

“Honestly, he wasn’t that bad,” Lance defends his honor. “He was pretty cool at times.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Adam huffs out a laugh. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks nervously. 

Shiro gives him a meaningful look. “He means you’d defend Keith through thick and thin.” 

Lance’s cheeks flush in embarrassment under their watchful gaze. “Well… I mean—you know—to an extent.”

Adam raises his brows, his lips twitching in what looks suspiciously like a smirk. “Uh-huh.”

“Enough about me,” he hurries out, eager to divert the attention away from him and any conversations involving Keith, because when it comes to Keith, he doesn’t know what he might say. “How are the wedding preparations coming along?”

Shiro wraps an arm around Adam’s waist, tugging him closer. “Besides us arguing back and forth between choosing ivory or macaroon for our color scheme, everything’s going great,” he replies. “Seriously, who knew there were so many shades of beige?”

Lance laughs. “I’m happy for you guys,” he says, looking at Shiro. “Really.”

Shiro’s smile softens. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“Speaking of which, we still haven’t decided on a location for our honeymoon,” Adam adds. “Takashi is convinced that we should go to Heavis.”

“Heavis is perfect for a honeymoon,” Lance agrees. “It’s one of the coolest planets we’ve been to. And there are these really tall mushrooms that glow during the night and make them look like lanterns in the sky. It’s like a scene straight out of Tangled.”

Adam turns to Shiro, unimpressed. “What do I look like to you? A twelve-year-old girl?”

“Yes,” Shiro grins.  

“Takashi you—”

A familiar peal of laughter reaches his ears. He turns toward the source to find Allura and Keith conversing a little distance away. She’s laughing at something he’s said and he’s grinning, wide and happy. The sight of his beam makes Lance’s heart leap dangerously in his chest, wild and fervid. 

As though he can sense Lance watching him, Keith turns, catching his gaze. His grin falters for a moment, a fraction of a second where he looks uncertain, as though he’s not sure he’s supposed to be looking at Lance. 

Then, he smiles; a small, soft thing given to Lance. 

It hits him then. 

There’s no warning; no signs or signals to prepare him, leaving him unsuspecting and defenseless to the cruel truth. It slams into him with dizzying force, the realization that somewhere along the way, somewhere between the night that changed everything and now, he had fallen madly and irrevocably in love with Keith. 

Everything around him drowns away leaving only Keith, the epicenter of his world. That’s it, he thinks vaguely, that’s the crux of the matter because ultimately, it always came back to Keith. It was always going to be him. A desperate ache fractures through him, tremors of longing vibrating beneath his skin. He feels like there’s not enough air in his lungs, like it’s been stolen by the one person he cannot have and he’ll never get it back, because the very air that he breathes belongs to Keith, along with everything else he has. 

Keith turns back to Allura, unaware of the torment wreaking havoc on him. 

“—Lance?” Shiro claps his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. “What do you think?”

Lance blinks, shaken, trying to settle his pounding heart. “What?” he asks, voice hoarse. 

“Is Heavis better than Vubos?

He swallows thickly. He feels lightheaded, almost like he’s not in his own body. “Yeah, I—I guess so.”

Adam frowns. “Are you okay Lance?”

“I’m—” Lance can feel his hands trembling. “I’m fine.” 

Shiro lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I don’t know… maybe I’m coming down with something,” he says and even to his own ears, his voice sounds haunted. “I think I’m gonna go. I’ll catch you guys later.” 

Without another word, he leaves them. His feet unsteady beneath him, Lance walks away from the sound of Keith’s voice. He can hear it calling to him like Eurydice’s presence calling to Orpheus. Lance is nothing more than a weak mortal in love, so he turns around, taking in one last glance and committing the shape of Keith to his memory, engraving him into the very fiber of his being to have him in the only way he knows how, the only way he’s allowed. He’s been defeated before he’s even fought, and knowing he’s reached the point of no return, Lance walks through no man’s land.

He comes back from a mission, muscles aching, residual adrenaline still pumping through his veins. It’s late by the time they touch down on Earth, Red being handed off to the engineers to inspect for any damage. They’d responded to a distress call from Allura when a rogue Galra faction had attacked New Altea, claiming they were honoring Zarkon by attempting to wipe out a budding civilization. They’d stopped the attack with perfected synchrony, seizing their weapons and detaining the soldiers, capturing yet another faction. 

Once they’d regrouped on the Atlas, everyone had come together to congratulate the Paladins. Then the drinks had come out and Lance, being in no mood for celebrations, had snagged a bottle of champagne and left the room. Now he wanders the halls of the Altas by himself, leaving the rest of his teammates behind to bask in the familiarity of a victorious mission. 

It’s torturous, being in such close proximity to Keith and knowing he cannot have him. Lance finds a small, dark room with ceiling-high windows. He settles on the bench that faces outside, watching the violet night sky speckled with stars. It resembles Keith’s eyes, he thinks miserably, taking a gulp of the drink in his hand until everything feels fuzzy and his muscles are loose. He leans back, watching the horizon and feeling sorry for himself. He revisits that fateful night, wondering if Keith still thinks about it as much as he does. He probably didn’t think twice about it because Keith didn’t go ahead and fall in love with Lance. It was just a one-night stand for him; nothing more, nothing less. Lance should count himself lucky that Keith decided to keep him around. 

The doors slide open. As though summoned by his thoughts, Keith stands at the doorway, silhouetted against the weak light. Lance’s heart gives a pathetic start at the sight. He wonders when it’ll stop doing that. 

“Hey,” Lance croaks out as Keith sits beside him. 

“Hey,” Keith replies, watching the horizon. 

His cheeks are flushed red and judging by the smell of alcohol on his breath, he’s already tipsy. Out of both of them, Keith has always been a lightweight. 

“What’re you doing here?” 

“Too many people out there,” Keith replies, taking the bottle from his hand and taking a swig. Lance tries to ignore the tingle that spreads across his skin like fire when their hands touch. He winces at the burn of alcohol, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm before turning to Lance. “Why’re you here instead of fraternizing out there?”

“I don’t fraternize,” Lance replies matter-of-factly. 

Keith snorts, leaning back and letting his head thump against the wall. “That’s all you do.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Keith frowns. “Weird,” he says, gazing at the horizon. 

Lance leans his head against the wall and looks at him sideways. “What is?”

“The world’s gone topsy-turvy,” he replies. 

“Okay, that’s enough for you,” Lance says, stealing the bottle from Keith’s grasp. They’re both drunk enough as it is and he certainly hasn’t forgotten what had happened the last time they were drunk together, hiding away in the dark. “Why’s the world gone topsy-turvy?”

Keith shrugs. “We’re both in here, moping, rather than betting to see who’ll throw up first.” 

Lance huffs out a laugh. “Who says I’m moping?”

Keith turns his head and Lance realizes just how close he is, their faces mere inches apart. The length of his body is pressed against Lance, the bare skin of their arms brushing against each other and Lance is burning up like a star, on the brink of erupting like a supernova and entangling Keith in his demise. The violet of his eyes glimmers under the dim light and for a moment, he feels like he’s in space again, flying amongst the galaxies that he once called home. 

“You don’t look over the moon either,” Keith murmurs, blinking slowly. 

Lance smiles ruefully. “Didn’t know you paid me that much attention, mullet-man.”

“I can’t help it,” he admits quietly. 

A warm thrill shoots through him. There’s something unspoken in his words, hidden in his gaze for Lance to figure out. But under the haze of alcohol, Lance cannot for the life of him unravel what it means. Keith’s dark hair falls over his forehead and Lance wants to reach out and tuck it behind his ear. He squashes down the urge and stills, the weight of his desire leaving him breathless. 

“I’m not all that interesting.” 

Keith’s brows draw together. “You are to me,” he confesses. 

It catches him by surprise. The cavernous ache that lingers inside him suddenly gives a pang and Lance feels emptier than ever, regret ringing hollow through him, the vacant chambers of his heart echoing Keith’s name. Longing gnaws at his chest, eating through tissue and sinew, eroding through his ribs before reaching the place where Keith resides in him. It leaves his mouth unbidden, the confession climbing itself up from deep inside him and slipping past his lips without his permission. 

“I miss you,” Lance whispers, his voice trembling, dampened with desolation.

“I’m right here,” Keith murmurs. 

They’d moved together without him noticing, Keith’s forehead mere inches from Lance’s own, his raven hair tickling Lance’s skin. 

“Are you?” he asks quietly. “‘Cause it feels like you’re galaxies away… and I don’t know how to catch you. I can never catch you.”

Keith’s hand finds his, fingers light on his skin. “You can catch me now.”

“I don’t want to catch you, Keith, I want to hold onto you,” he admits, fingers lacing through Keith’s. “I want you back.”

“I was always here,” Keith replies, his voice fraught with sincerity. 

“No, you weren’t,” Lance shakes his head, looking into his eyes with difficulty. “Not like before.”

Lance hears his sharp intake of breath. Surprise flickers over Keith’s face before his brows draw together in distress, as though Lance has said something hurtful. Keith’s hand slips from his hold and Lance feels like a lone lighthouse, forsaken to the ocean, his luminance never reaching anyone. 

“Don’t do this,” Keith whispers, his breathing ragged. His gaze is stuck on Lance’s hand, not meeting his eyes. “Not now.”

Lance feels his heart splintering, cracks forming through the soft muscle and bleeding into his chest cavity. “Now?”

Keith looks up, despair swirling in his gaze. “Not when I’m getting over you,” he says, his words ghosting over Lance’s lips. 

Lance stills, his breath catching in his throat. Everything in him goes numb, his mind reeling. Something in him rouses with vengeance and Lance is aching with disbelief. “What does that mean?”

“You know what it means Lance,” he says and shifts slightly, drawing away from him. The small distance between them makes it feel like Keith is oceans away. He can feel Keith slipping away from him like sand between his fingers and there’s nothing he can do, nothing to make him stay. 

It doesn’t make sense, he thinks, dazed. If Keith is saying what Lance thinks he’s saying, then it means all this time he’s been wanting Lance the same miserable way Lance wants him. Now he’s moved on and Lance has lost his chance before he’s known about it. They’re two ships passing in the night, fleeting moments of synchronicity that he’s never able to hold on to. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers, voice tainted with desperation. Lance looks at him, tries to find any semblance of affection directed at him in his amethyst gaze. There’s nothing there but exhaustion. 

“How could I?” Keith asks his hands. “You finally got what you wanted. I wasn’t going to take that away from you.” 

“I wish you did,” Lance admits. “I’d hoped you did.”

Keith is quiet for a long moment, watching the horizon. It’s almost humorous, how close he is despite being farther than Lance can reach. “I wish you did too,” he confesses, and Lance’s heart gives a throb of pain. 

He sits next to Keith with the unbearable knowledge that he will never have him, his unspoken and unspent affection seeping out of him like blood until he reeks of it, the metallic tang of copper. 

A moment later, Keith stands up unsteadily, swaying on the spot. He turns to Lance, gazing at him contemplatively before his eyes flicker down to his lips. There’s a moment; a blissful, naive moment where Lance allows himself to think that Keith might kiss him. He wants it more than anything, wants it more than he can comprehend, the enormity of his longing leaving him startled. But Keith drops his gaze, almost reluctantly and begins to leave. 

Lance wonders how many more times he’ll have to watch Keith walk away from him, how many more times until he’s lost to Lance forever.

He sees it in the paper before he ever hears it out of Keith’s mouth. In hindsight, he should’ve seen it coming. After their last encounter, he goes back to cramming bits and pieces of information about Keith from the media like a starved man, goes right back to being a stranger clinging to the edges of Keith’s life. 

He’s in the staff lounge during his lunch break, mindlessly listening to his colleague’s conversation about her husband’s inability to clean up after himself as he stirs sugar into his coffee. He sees the paper on the counter out of the corner of his eye. It’s from one of the old companies that had remained standing even after the war, one that still prints physical papers. 

As he takes a sip of his drink, he lazily flips to the front page. 

Lance blinks. His heart drops to the pit of his stomach, his entire body numbing over with dread. He stares at the picture below the headline and feels an awful pain pierce through him. 

Something shatters, sharp and sudden, his skin scalding. It’s only when his colleague touches his shoulder to make sure he’s okay, that he realizes he’s dropped the cup in his hand. There’s spilled coffee everywhere, shards of glass scattered at his feet. 

Lance frowns. “I didn’t…” he trails off, and bends down to pick up the glass. He cuts his finger on one of the pieces, blood trailing down his palm like scarlet veins. 

He cleans up the mess and stands on unsteady feet. He grips the counter, his head bent low as he draws in shuddering breath after shuddering breath, his lungs rattling. Keith’s smiling face stares up at him, almost mocking. His eyes slide to the headline.

Black Paladin Keith Kogane caught lip-locked with a mysterious new man! 

Lance feels nauseous, his stomach rolling and his hands trembling. There’s a close-up of Keith with a strange guy, his eyes closed, kissing him as though he’s never kissed anyone before. He can barely look at it. 

He wonders then if this is what Keith meant when he said he’s moving on, if he’d already left Lance behind when they were having that conversation. It’s been barely a week; barely a week since he’d admitted that there was a time where he’d reciprocated Lance’s feelings and barely a week since he’d turned around and kissed someone else. It’s unthinkable. 

With hesitant fingers, he reaches out and traces the line of Keith’s face. If he tries hard enough, he can almost feel the softness of his skin, the silkiness of his hair. He knows the way Keith’s lips taste, has it committed to memory, knows the sounds he makes when he’s pleased, knows the places on his body that make him squirm, knows by heart the way his eyes flash and his dimples appear when he’s genuinely happy. 

But now, someone else will too.

He can’t sleep, can barely eat, haunted by the thought of strange hands on Keith’s body and strange lips on his mouth. There’s no escaping it, not when people like him and Keith are the ones that saved the universe. They discuss it on morning talk shows, on the radio and even on the evening news of a small-scale news program like it’s breaking news. He’s surrounded by it; by reporters and journalists and interviewers as they interrogate him and he puts a smile on his face, saying again and again how pleased he is that Keith has finally found someone who makes him happy whilst his stomach turns uncomfortably. It’s harrowing. 

A few days later, Shiro approaches him. He looks at him with worried eyes and nervous hands that don’t know what to do with themselves. 

“You know you can talk to me right?” Shiro asks, glancing at Lance’s unusually disheveled hair, his hands running through it every five seconds. “About anything. I’m here if you want to talk.” 

“Thanks, man,” he replies hoarsely. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t look it,” Shiro replies. “No offense.” 

Lance lets out a humorless laugh. “None taken.” 

“Is something going on?” Shiro asks. 

Lance looks at him and wonders how he can tell him that he’s gone ahead and fallen in love with his little brother, the same one currently in a distant galaxy tangled up with someone who isn’t Lance. He bites his tongue.  

“Nope,” he says unconvincingly. “Not at all.”

Shiro watches him, careful and silent. His brows crease in thought and for a terrifying moment, Lance thinks that he knows, that his desperate longing is seeping out of his very pores and calling Keith’s name. Instead, he offers Lance a small, hesitant smile and changes the subject. 

If Shiro wasn’t enough, it seems that even his kids are catching on. 

Anderson, one of his rowdy kids, strolls into Introduction to Aviation on Monday afternoon, takes one look at him and smirks in amusement. Lance feels strangely like he’s gone back in time and is watching a carbon copy of his younger self. 

“Jeez Mr McClain, you look like you’ve been dumped by your girlfriend,” he says, and the rest of his class erupts into laughter. 

Lance sighs tiredly. “Alright, settle down. And Anderson, if you don’t want another week of drills, you’ll get out your homework which I’m sure you’ve done.”

Anderson crosses his arms over his chest in defiance. “Was she smoking hot at least?” he asks, goading. 

Lance is tired and miserable and he sure as hell isn’t in the mood to deal with a bunch of unruly teenagers. It’s his last straw, and his usually calm temper flares. 

“That’s it,” he snaps. “Two weeks of detention for Anderson and three weeks of drills for the next person with a smart mouth who speaks out of turn.”

The class reduces into silence, watching him with wide eyes. Anderson’s smirk vanishes. 

Lance turns back to the board with trembling hands and screws his eyes shut, drawing in a deep breath that doesn’t quite reach his lungs. Lance doesn’t know what to do with himself; he feels lost, like he’s been untethered from the only thing he’s ever known and has been set free to roam aimlessly, unable to go to the only person that matters. He doesn’t recognize himself, this person he’s turning into without Keith because ultimately, the best parts of himself were always Keith. 

He’s in the middle of Shiro and Adam’s rehearsal dinner, confirming the delivery time of the flower arch with the florist when Keith appears, a caterer following him and showing him something on his tablet. He’s been dancing around Keith since this morning and if the way Keith refused to meet his eye and kept his distance was any indication, Lance would say that Keith was avoiding him too. 

Lance watches him from the corner of his eye, stealing glances at him as the florist drones on about the arrangements and the different meanings of flowers. A tall, slender man appears through the scattering of guests and makes a beeline toward Keith. Lance frowns. The man wraps an arm around Keith’s waist, overly familiar, his lazy smile pulling into a smirk as Keith leans into his body. The caterer takes his leave. Lance’s heart climbs into his mouth and his stomach threatens to spill his guts at his feet as he watches Keith’s neck roll back and a smirking mouth press against the sensitive skin beneath his ear. The stranger whispers something in Keith’s ear and to his agony, Keith laughs. 

Lance has been shot, stabbed, tortured and he’s even died but nothing, nothing is as painful as watching Keith be held by another. He wonders if this is how Keith felt, watching him and Allura whilst Lance was too busy lying to himself, stupid and unaware of the only chance in his life passing him by.

“—Sir?” asks the florist, voice bordering on annoyance. 

Lance jerks back into focus, his heart pounding miserably in his chest. “Sorry… yes?”

The florist gives him a strange look. “If I could have you sign here along this dotted line?”

He gives the florist his signature and turns away from Keith, unable to witness the sight any longer. Hiding away at the open bar, he nurses a club soda, watching the perspiration slide along the glass and collect in a circle on the wood. 

“There you are,” says Hunk, slapping a hand on his shoulder. 

Lance startles out of his thoughts. “You scared me.”

“My bad,” Hunk replies as he sits next to Lance and orders a drink. When Lance remains quiet, Hunk frowns. “You okay?”

“Great.”

“Yeah right,” Hunk scoffs. “You look like a kicked puppy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Hunk turns to him curiously. “You’re giving me one-word replies, so I know something is definitely up.” 

“I’m fine Hunk,” Lance dismisses, trying to get rid of the knot inside him, his intestines tangled and twisting violently. “I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“Sure,” Hunk replies, and Lance knows he doesn’t believe him. He drops the subject, turning to the crowd and leaning against the bar. “Have you met Adam’s parents yet?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re so funny dude, you wouldn’t even be able to tell Adam is their son,” Hunk muses. 

Lance manages a small smile. “He’s exactly like them, just more snarky.”

“No wonder Keith turned out the way he did,” Hunk laughs and Lance tenses, muscles locking up at the mention of his name. 

“Yeah,” Lance replies, voice strained.  

“Have you met Elgron yet?”

Lance frowns. “Who?”

Hunk looks at him as though it should be obvious. “Keith’s boyfriend.”

Lance’s chest gives a violent lurch, his heart thudding against his ribcage at hearing Keith’s name next to the word boyfriend. A spark of irritation flares at the pit of his stomach. He gives a derisive scoff. “What the fuck kind of name is Elgron?”

Hunk stares at him, his eyes calculating. “Galra.” 

Lance turns to him sharply, frowning. “He’s Galra?” 

“Half, apparently.”

“Great.” Lance lets out a humorless laugh. “What a perfect match.”

“I think they’re good together,” Hunk says slowly. 

“Of course you do,” Lance replies, bitterness staining his tongue. 

“I’m guessing you don’t approve.”

He shrugs, morphing his features into casual indifference and taking a sip of his drink, trying to seem like it doesn’t affect him. “I couldn’t care less about Keith’s boyfriend.”

“Sure…” Hunk says. Lance can feel his gaze piercing into the side of his face, watching, waiting. “Speaking of Keith… are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and him to make you both look like you’re being held at gunpoint every time you’re in a room together?”

Lance feels a nervous shiver crawl through him. “What makes you say that?” he asks, trying to veer them away from the dangerous territory that Hunk had led them to.  

“You can’t answer a question with a question Lance,” Hunk says. “We both know I’m right.”

Lance swallows thickly. “I don’t know,” he says, carefully picking out his words. “Things changed.”

Hunk is quiet for a long moment, observing him carefully. 

“Things didn’t change,” he says slowly, his voice creeping towards realization. “Your feelings did.” Lance’s breath hitches in his throat. He freezes like he’s been caught by a wild predator, playing dead and letting it sniff him out so it can move onto fresh prey. He keeps his gaze stuck on the grain running through the wood, thinking that if he stays silent and still, Hunk may think otherwise. “Oh god…. That’s it, isn’t it?” he asks, shock and pity staining his voice. “You fell in love with him.”

He was stupid to think that he could fool Hunk; he knows Lance inside out, the only person second to Keith that Lance has let close enough to peer into his very soul. 

“I couldn’t help it,” he says pathetically. 

Hunk sighs. “I know.”

Lance shakes his head. “How could you possibly know?”

He snorts out a laugh. “I may be slow but I’m not blind Lance,” he says, looking at him knowingly. Lance frowns. “You two were always close—you came together after Shiro disappeared and you just—you didn’t stop. I thought it was strange that you claimed you weren’t anything more than friends but in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen anyone make you as happy as he does. He’s the same, maybe even worse than you,” Hunk says, and a faint spark of hope flares in his chest. “I’ve never seen the guy smile as much as I do when he’s with you. It’s like he becomes a different person around you.”

He douses the spark of hope before it can burst into flame and burn him alive with possibilities that will never happen. The heavy weight of his desire runs through his veins like lead, his blood imbued with Keith’s name, his smile, his laugh and his touch until he’s a cavernous chasm of longing than he is human. “Yeah, well… it doesn’t matter now,” he replies. 

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

“It’s too late,” he says. He doesn’t tell Hunk of what had occurred on that night and he doesn’t tell him of the time where Keith may have returned his feelings before he’d moved on. 

Hunk runs his finger over the rim of his glass pensively. “Do you still love him?”

He doesn’t even need to think about it, the answer springing to his tongue almost immediately. “Yes.” 

“Then it’s not too late.”

Lance runs his hand over his face, sighing. “I’m not going to go and ruin his relationship Hunk,” he says. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it because he has, more than once; of turning up at his door and declaring his love for Keith, to be finally rid of his wretched feelings so that it was no longer his, so that Keith could do with it as he pleased. “He’s happy. That’s all that matters.”

“How do you know he’s happy?”

Lance pauses. “He looks happy,” he says, and he does. It hadn’t occurred to him until he’d seen the paparazzi picture of Keith in the newspaper, smiling widely in Elgron’s arms. He’d realized then that he hadn’t seen Keith smile so freely and unreserved in a long time, at least not around him. Lance would never forgive himself for that, stealing his smile. 

“He didn’t look happy two weeks ago when I saw him,” Hunk argues. “Just because he’s with someone new doesn’t mean it will make him happy. You of all people should know that.”

Lance looks up at him. Hunk looks back at him firmly. 

He exhales a tired laugh through his nose. “You don’t pull any punches huh?” 

Hunk gives an unconcerned shrug. “Someone has to tell it like it is,” he replies. “Something changed after you got with Allura, everyone saw it.” He shakes his head. “I was wracking my brain trying to figure out why two people who were attached at the hip for years suddenly couldn’t stand to be in the same room together.” He turns to Lance for an answer that he doesn’t have. “It didn’t make sense to me. You were miserable after Keith left for the Blades and I thought it was because you missed him. But you were still miserable when he came back and I didn’t know why.”

“Now you do.” 

Hunk turns to with a frown. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Lance’s features crease into a wounded look. “How could I tell you if I couldn’t even tell him?”

Hunk looks at him for a long, drawn-out moment, his eyes flickering over Lance’s face and studying him. “What exactly are you afraid of Lance? Of telling him your feelings or that he might just love you back?”

Lance stills. He has nothing to offer, nothing for Hunk and nothing for himself. He thinks that Hunk knows him far better than he knows himself, reaching inside and wrenching out the parts of himself that he doesn’t want to look at, laying them out on the bar before him like entrails, bloodstained and raw; the naked truth that he cannot admit, even to himself.

Shiro exhales sharply, wiping his hands on his pants. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he says, voice wavering with nerves. 

“You’re not,” Keith replies firmly, attaching the flower pin to Shiro’s breast pocket. “If you throw up all over your expensive suit two minutes before the ceremony starts, I’ll kill you.” 

Lance stands across the dressing room, piling the wedding gifts against the wall and trying not to let his eyes wander across Keith’s body. He looks unreasonably attractive, almost as though he has stepped out of a painting and has decided to torment Lance with his lethal beauty. The ivory-cream groomsmen’s suit fits him perfectly as though it was made solely for him; the fabric hugging the long lines of his body, folding over his firm muscles and broad shoulders. His hair is swept to the side, revealing his piercing violet eyes. Lance’s pitiful heart writhes in his chest in anguish. 

“Ow,” Shiro yelps as Keith fastens the flower pin onto Shiro’s white wedding suit. “You pricked me.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Stop being a baby and stay still.”

“You’re too tense Shiro,” Lance says, walking over and handing him a flute of champagne. “Here, drink this.”

“Are you kidding me?” Keith asks, glaring at Lance. He snatches the glass away before Shiro can gulp down the entire flute. “Do you want him to go out there and completely butcher his vows?”

Lance quirks a brow. “Cool your jets mullet-man.” The old nickname slips past his lips before he can catch it, and Keith’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before he narrows them in displeasure. It feels familiar and easy on his tongue, unlike how he feels around Keith; watching his every step around him like he’s walking on eggshells. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were the one getting married.”

“Well sue me for wanting my brother’s wedding to go smoothly before he has to propose a third time,” Keith bites out. 

Lance snorts out a laugh. 

“I find your faith in me so inspiring Keith, truly,” Shiro replies flatly. 

“Just please get through the wedding without any incidents, that’s all I ask,” Keith pleads. “I may be the best man, but I’m not God.”

Shiro looks at him for a moment, his eyes glimmering proudly. “Okay,” he says. “I promise kiddo.” 

Pidge walks into the dressing room with Hunk trailing behind her. “The guests have all filled up,” she says. 

“Like the venue is full,” Hunk says nervously. “I’m getting performance anxiety.”

Lance smirks. “I’m sure you are.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Keith’s lips quirk into an amused smile that he tries to hide by looking at the floor. Lance feels like he could take on a fleet of Galra and single-handedly win. 

Hunk turns to him, unimpressed. “Shut up Lance.”

The door opens, bringing in the loud chatter of the guests outside the room. Allura, Romelle, and Coran walk in; Allura and Romelle dressed in ivory-cream gowns, and Coran in a burnt orange suit. 

“Oh good, you’re all here,” Allura says. “The flower girl is ready to go.”

Lance had volunteered his niece Nadia to be the flower girl, and she had been over the moon to help her favorite paladin, the former leader of Voltron. Some things clearly ran in the family.  

“Are you ready my boy?” Coran asks, clapping Shiro’s shoulder. 

“Yup,” he says, despite the sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead. 

Keith sighs, rolling his eyes. He whips out a tissue from his pocket and hands it to Shiro, who pats his forehead dry. 

“Your bowtie isn’t straight Shiro,” Allura says, reaching forward to fix it. Once she’s done, she places her hands on his shoulder, smiling. “I’m proud of you Shiro, truly.”

Lance thinks he sees Shiro’s eyes glistening. He squeezes Allura’s forearms. “Thanks, Princess.”

“I can’t believe the youngest is the first to leave the nest,” Pidge sniffles dramatically. 

Shiro laughs. “Very funny kiddo.” 

Beyond the door, music begins playing.

“Okay,” Keith says beside him, looking more nervous than Shiro. He blows out a sharp breath. Shiro tugs him against his side and squeezes his little brother affectionately. “You’re all ready now.”

They all stand together at the door, feeling strangely as though they’re giving away their leader to the world. A moment later, they usher out of the room, following after Shiro like they always do. 

Adam is standing at the bottom of the aisle, clad in his matching white suit. His face breaks out into a wide, happy smile once Shiro comes to stand beside him. Shiro gives him a watery smile, his features trembling with emotion. 

Once Nadia has scattered flower petals across the aisle, they begin walking. Adam’s groomsmen and women stand to the left, whilst Lance and the paladins stand to the right. When he’s at the top of the aisle standing beside Keith, Lance spots the rest of his family amongst the crowd, smiling and waving at him. 

The music changes into a mellow piano track and the guests stand, turning to look at Adam and Shiro as they walk down the aisle, hand in hand. They reach the makeshift altar, turning to face each other and Coran clears his throat, beginning the ceremony. 

Lance watches them happily, a vague dream of standing at the altar one day and beginning the rest of his life with someone playing in his mind. His gaze inadvertently slides to Keith beside him, who watches Adam and Shiro with a soft, happy smile. Something twists in Lance’s chest. The image comes unwittingly and he can imagine it clear as day; himself and Keith at the altar, facing each other as they vow to stand beside each other for better, for worse, in sickness and in health until death do them part. It’s like a mirage, a vision so enticing that it’s almost tangible, one he could almost reach out and grab ahold of. But he blinks and the vision shatters, leaving him thrown off kilter beside Keith as they watch Adam put the ring on Shiro’s finger, binding them together for life. 

“I now pronounce you married,” Coran announces cheerfully. “You may kiss the groom!”

Adam and Shiro come together, cupping each other’s faces and kissing gently as their gold rings glint against the camera flashes from the crowd. The guests break out into deafening cheers, applause rising high into the air. Next to him, Hunk bursts into tears, and with his heart pounding in his chest, Lance watches Keith’s face break out into the happiest smile he’s ever seen, cheering loudly. 

Right there and then at the altar, Lance realizes that the only person he wants to begin the rest of his life with, is Keith. 

The wedding reception is in full swing, the wide hall filled to the brim with guests from all corners of the universe. Lance stands to the side with Hunk as they watch Adam and Shiro make their way through the hall taking pictures with the guests. 

“We saw her at a coalition meeting on Reiphod,” Hunk says, pointing to one of the guests posing for a picture, gold liquid sloshing over the rim of his glass and spilling over his fingers. “She looks different now.” 

“I don’t remember her,” Lance calls over the loud music blasting across the hall. 

“Yes, you do,” Hunk replies flatly. “She was one of the officials and you tried to put the moves on her. She rejected you and you spent the entire meeting sulking.”

Lance raises a brow. “I definitely don’t remember her,” he lies, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his champagne flute.

Hunk turns to him with a laugh. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

He looks at something over his shoulder. Hunk’s smile falters, and he blinks at Lance apprehensively. Lance frowns in confusion. 

“Hey guys,” Keith’s voice interrupts them.

Keith appears beside him and Lance stiffens, his pulse skipping and stuttering in his chest. This close, Lance can smell his cologne, wrapping around him like smoke and filling his bloodstream with Keith’s scent.

“Hey Keith,” Hunk replies. 

“I want you to meet someone,” he says, almost hesitantly. Lance notices the tall guy standing behind him, their hands intertwined. His stomach twists, his chest burning and Lance tells himself it’s the alcohol working through his system. “This is Elgron… my boyfriend. Elgron, this is Lance… and Hunk,” Keith introduces them, his gaze focused solely on Lance. 

Hunk reaches forward and shakes Elgron’s hand. “Hey man, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” says Elgron.

He finally wrenches his gaze away from Keith. A fire burns low in his gut, heat coursing through his veins like molten lava. Forcing a friendly smile on his face, he offers his hand. “Lance.”

Only a few inches taller than Lance, Elgron is scrawny in appearance. High cheekbones and sharp lilac eyes make him seem as though he’s planning something deceitful. His plain brown hair falls in waves across his face. Lance doesn’t know what Keith sees in him. 

“Elgron,” he shakes his hand firmly. “You must be the best friend. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He flashes Lance a grin, one that looks almost smug. Lance wants to put his fist through the guy’s face.

“All good things I hope,” he replies evenly. He shoves his hands into his pockets, clenching and unclenching them. 

Keith is watching him, he can feel it; his gaze hot and heavy. Tension hangs in the air between them, thick and impenetrable. Lance squares his shoulders back and puts on an easy smile. He can pretend this isn’t killing him. He can feign disinterest because that’s how a normal, well-adjusted guy who’s not in love with his best friend behaves. 

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Elgron smirks. Lance almost laughs in his face, trying to get rid of the itch to break his nose. Who does this guy think he is?

“So Elgron… what do you do?” Hunk asks, trying to dispel the uncomfortable silence they’ve fallen into.

“Well, right now I’m working with the Blade to catch the Galra fugitives who are on the run,” he says. “But I was undercover in one of the smaller factions that broke off from the empire during the last leg of the war, so it kind of makes it hard to chase leads when everyone knows you’re a traitor.”

Lance catches Keith’s eye. His gaze holds steady, studying him carefully. There’s a slight furrow to his brows, his forehead creased in thought and his violet eyes narrowed. He’s looking for something they both know is there, something they can both pretend they don’t see for the sake of keeping up appearances. Keith will leave with his boyfriend and wonder if Lance is bothered by it, and Lance will stay behind and wonder if Keith is truly over him. It’s a never-ending game of push and pull until one of them gives and they both go tumbling down. 

“Yeah I get you man,” Hunk says. “But you’re doing cool things.”

“Not as cool as you,” Elgron replies. “I saw your No One Goes Hungry movement. You’re doing what matters.”

“Really?” Hunk grins. “Thanks man, I appreciate that.”

“We should get going,” Keith says abruptly, his eyes still on Lance who’s caught under his stare, helpless and at his mercy. He offers himself up to Keith, lets him take whatever he wants and do whatever he pleases because in the end, it doesn’t matter, anything he already has belongs to Keith. His gaze jerks away and Lance suddenly feels alone in spite of being surrounded by hundreds of people. “I’ll see you later.”

He tracks Keith’s turned back as they weave through the crowd. Elgron reaches for Keith’s hand, but he swiftly moves it out of reach. Then, they disappear. 

“He’s not so bad,” Hunk says beside him, a hint of approval in his voice that ticks Lance off. “But he looks an awful lot like you.”

“What?” 

“What, you don’t see it?” he asks. “The brown hair? The tall and lanky build? That smug smirk? Keith obviously has a type.”

“Did you just call me lanky?” Lance scowls, trying not to read too much into it. “I’m not lanky, I’m lean. I have muscle.” 

Hunk lets out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously? That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“I look nothing like him,” he turns away, watching the crowd. He tosses back the rest of his drink, gritting his teeth against the burn in his throat and slamming down his glass on the table. “And I don’t want to discuss Keith’s type.”

“You don’t want to discuss you?” he asks, humor lacing his words. 

Lance clenches his jaw and inhales sharply through his nose. “Hunk… don’t start with this shit,” he says, voice low and irked. “I’m serious, drop it.”

“Fine, but you know that—”

“We have an emergency,” says Romlle, suddenly appearing in front of them, carrying a Puigian baby in her arms. The baby babbles, playing with her hair. “A guest spilled red wine all over Shiro and now it looks like he’s bleeding from his… crotch, and they have to cut the cake next.”

They turn towards the couple sitting at the head table, where Adam is clearly attempting to blot away the wine whilst muttering under his breath as Shiro looks at him lovingly. 

“Well, at least we got this far without anything happening,” says Hunk. 

“Can one of you please grab him a fresh pair of pants because clearly, I am with child,” she says, gesturing to the baby in her arms. 

Hunk blinks at her silently. 

Lance sighs. “Romelle, that doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

She frowns. “What does it mean then?”

Lance runs a hand through his hair. “Hunk will tell you. I’ll grab Shiro a new pair of pants,” he says, and heads toward the dressing room, eager to get away from Hunk’s knowing looks and desperate for a moment alone to gather himself; he feels like he’s fraying at the edges, falling apart thread by thread. 

He weaves through the crowds, not stopping for anyone who recognizes him and wants to chat. He goes into the dressing room and is faced with heaps and heaps of wedding gifts that tower like mountains, piled on every surface visible. 

He begins sorting through the stuff in the room, searching for the spare suit they’d reserved in case anything like this had happened. He wonders when is an appropriate time for a groomsman to disappear before the reception is over, certain that he cannot bear to witness Keith leaning against his boyfriend in his eyeline. It would hurt less, he thinks, if Keith had just stabbed him straight in the heart. 

Seemingly conjured by his thoughts, the door opens and Keith stands at the doorway, silhouetted against the light from the hall. Lance’s muscles lock up, his spine ramrod straight. Keith stares back at him, surprise flickering over his face. 

The door shuts behind him and they’re trapped, confined to this small room with the unspeakable tension between them pulling taught, threatening to snap apart. Lance turns away, continuing to rifle through the gifts. 

He can hear Keith’s footsteps, hear his soft breathing as he nears. “Are you looking for Shiro’s pants?”

“Yeah,” Lance replies. “I got it, you can go back.”

Keith lets out a small sigh. “It’ll be faster if we both look.”

“Suit yourself,” Lance replies. 

They work in stifling silence, overturning everything in the room looking for the garment bag. In a moment of frustration, Lance dumps a gift onto the pile and turns sharply, knocking into Keith’s chest and grabbing his shoulders to keep them both upright. They stand like that for a moment, Keith’s hands on his hips burning a brand onto his skin, chest to chest as they stare at each other with wide eyes, rooted to the spot. 

Keith untangles himself from Lance’s hold. “Sorry,” he mutters, eyes on the carpeted floor. 

Lance swallows thickly. “It’s cool,” he replies, voice strange and uneven. 

His hands tingle where they grip Keith, the all too familiar weight of his body flaring up the unsatiated ache that sits beneath his breastbone. He thinks if he remains in Keith’s presence any longer, he may be driven mad with the force of his longing. 

A moment later, Keith emerges holding up the white pants. “I found it.”

“Finally,” Lance replies. 

Keith trudges through the gifts scattered all over the floor like a storm has torn through the roof. His hair is tousled, falling over his forehead and his tie is thrown over his shoulder, the button of his collar undone, exposing the soft skin of his neck. Under the dim light of the dressing room, a blemish on his skin catches Lance’s attention. 

He squints, looking closely. It looks like a bite mark, red and inflamed to the size of his fist. 

“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” Lance asks. 

Keith frowns. “What?”

“That—thing, on your neck,” he points.

Keith hides the mark beneath his palm, his cheeks burning red. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Keith,” Lance says sternly. “Where’d you get that?”

“Elgron,” he says, looking at him as though daring him to say something. 

Lance’s stomach twists. “What did he do? Maul your fucking neck?”

Keith’s gaze hardens. “He likes it rough,” he says, flushing deeply. 

A hot rush of jealousy sears through him. “What?” Lance scowls, voice dripping with resentment. “Does he think you’re a piece of meat?”

Keith’s violet eyes flash with indignation and his mouth sets into a thin line. “Why the fuck do you care?”

Lance scoffs mockingly. “Believe it or not, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Keith laughs; a grating, scornful sound that spears straight through him. “Yeah, ‘cause you care so much about my feelings,” he sneers, trying to push past him.

He’s leaving, he’s always leaving, and for the first time in his life, Lance is sick to death of seeing Keith’s turned back walking away from him. Lance grabs his arm with a bruising grip until Keith whirls around. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lance snaps, his anger crackling, dangerously close to blowing up. 

Keith wrenches his arm out of Lance’s grasp and leans forward into his space. “You know what it means,” he snarls accusingly, teeth bared. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Lance spits, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. In the back of his mind, he thinks that this feels like the end; everything that’s happened between them is finally coming to a head, one they can never come back from. “I know we might not be anymore, but you were once my best friend. That doesn’t mean I stop caring about you overnight.”

Keith shakes his head, laughing scathingly. “Don’t kid yourself, Lance.”

“Right—you know me so well you can tell me how I’m feeling,” he sneers. “I wonder how that works since you can’t even look at me, let alone talk to me.”

“And whose fault was that?” Keith yells hoarsely, a vein on his temple bulging. “You can’t just use me and throw me away like trash! I’m not some fucking toy Lance!”

Lance reels back, confusion muddling his rage. “I never used you! I wanted you!” he says. 

Keith falters; he sees it in his eyes, a flicker of surprise flitting through them before he frowns disapprovingly. “You had a pretty shit way of showing it—moving on to the next available option!” he accuses sharply. 

“Because you left Keith!” he shouts inconsolably. They’re approaching dangerous territory. Lance feels like he’s on the edge of a cliff, staring down the fathomless abyss, the ground beneath him trembling and threatening to topple him over the edge to let him plunge to his death. “You were my best friend and I needed you but you fucked off to some corner of the universe where I didn’t even know if you were alive!”

Keith glares at him furiously. “That doesn’t mean you can come crawling back just because you’re lonely!” he roars. 

“I didn’t come to you because I was lonely! I came to you because I was tired of pretending I’m not in love with you!” Lance shouts, the confession ripping itself from his chest and plunging past his lips. 

Keith’s eyes widen in shock and he staggers back a step in disbelief, almost as though Lance has struck him. Lance’s chest heaves, his breathless gasps shattering the silence between them, his heart hammering with dread. He’s gone and said it now, the terrible truth he’d tried so hard to hide from them both. It hovers in the air between them like a palpable, living thing, demanding their attention. 

Beyond the door, the music changes. Lance had forgotten momentarily where they were, his attention consumed by the boy in front of him. 

Keith watches him carefully. “You don’t mean that,” he breathes quietly. 

Lance sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Of course I mean it. I’m fucking miserable without you Keith,” he says, voice raspy. “I was miserable even when I was with Allura. The entire reason our relationship broke down was because I spent the entire time I was with her wishing I was with you. And I told you that Keith, but you—you turned around and got with Elgron.”

Keith swallows. Lance’s gaze snags on the movement of his Adam’s apple. “You didn’t tell me anything,” he argues. 

Lance doesn’t look at him, can’t look at him and face his repulsion. Keith already thinks he’s some kind of playboy, using him for his own pleasure and tossing him aside. His opinion of Lance couldn’t get any lower than it already is. His gaze darts to the white pants in his hand, clenched around the fabric hard enough to make a crease in it. 

Lance shrugs wearily. “I told you the only way I knew how.”

“No… you didn’t tell me anything that meant something,” Keith says, voice edged with something heavy and meaningful. “Because if you did, I wouldn’t have gotten with Elgron.”

Lance’s head snaps up. “What do you mean?” he asks almost fearfully, not allowing himself to hope. 

Keith stares at him, long and hard. “It’s like you said… I’ve spent the entire with him wishing I was with you.”

Lance’s breath catches in his lungs. His heart skitters like a pebble skipping along the surface of a pond, too fast and too far. 

“What?” he asks, winded with incredulity. He feels like he’s dreaming, like he’s imagining this. But the euphoric rush of blood in his ears makes him light-headed and he’s very much awake. “Since when?”

“Since that night,” Keith admits, the tension on his face melting away. 

The words leave him winded. His mind races, his train of thought tumbling off track and colliding into chaos. 

“But you said… you said you were getting over me.” 

Keith’s gaze slips. “I lied,” he admits. “I thought that if I got with someone else, it would help me forget you.”

“Did it?”

“Of course not,” Keith replies, his gaze softening. “I was still thinking about you every second of every day.” 

His heart is pounding so hard and so loud, he thinks Keith might almost hear it. “I thought it was my job to exaggerate.”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m not exaggerating Lance, you’ve been haunting my thoughts for as long as I can remember,” he replies earnestly. “I think… I think I wanted you even before we did what we did and it proved that you were it for me.”

“Keith…” Lance exhales sharply, his breath trembling. 

“What?” 

“You’re it for me too,” he confesses. His chest feels lighter than it has in years. “You’ve always been it for me.”

Keith smiles, his features tender with affection. For a moment, his smile slips, gaze filling with guilt. “I’m sorry for the things I said before,” he says regretfully. “I was hurt and I didn’t know you…” he trails off, glancing at the ground in embarrassment. “...you know.”

Lance smiles. “I what?” he asks. 

Keith flushes, skin burning red. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” he teases. “You have to spell it out for me.”

Keith rolls his eyes, face flaming. “Shut up.”

Lance grins until his cheeks hurt. “I didn’t know you were the bashful type.”

Keith’s gaze catches on the pleased pull of his lips and sticks. His eyes darken suddenly, the same way it had all those years ago when he first kissed Lance under the cover of night. It sends a shiver crawling down Lance’s spine. He looks up and Lance feels his stomach flip. “Who says I am?” he asks hoarsely. 

The hair on the nape of his neck rises in anticipation. Keith steps forward through the thick tension that’s formed between them, slow almost hesitant until there’s a mere hairsbreadth of space between them. Lance stills, granting him permission and afraid that if he so much as breathes, it will shatter this moment. The nervous thunderclap of his heart is almost deafening. 

Keith’s breath flutters over his lips, goosebumps erupting over his skin. He cups the side of Lance’s face, his skin tingling at the touch. He leans in agonizingly slow until at last, their lips meet in the middle. Keith catches his lips and Lance unravels, becoming undone beneath his touch. He tastes like everything Lance has waited for, and an anxious, unnerved part of him finally settles with Keith in his arms, a wave of contentment he hasn’t felt in years washing over him. Keith kisses him slowly, his lips soft and heavenly. Lance feels like he’s reached paradise. He tilts his head, their lips slotting together perfectly and Lance kisses him fervently, a hot rush of hunger humming beneath his skin. Keith’s hands grab him by the lapels of his suit and pull him close, pressing his body flush against Keith’s. Lance’s hands reach up and cup his face tenderly as though he’s holding something precious. 

They pull away a moment later when Lance begins feeling dizzy from the slack of oxygen. They gasp into each other’s mouths, gripping each other firmly. Lance rests his forehead against Keith’s. His pupils are blown wide, cheeks flushing an impossible shade of scarlet. Staring at Keith, Lance feels something inexplicable and greater than himself tremble through him, leaving him shaken with alarm. 

Trying to ignore it, Lance lunges forward, smashing their lips together hard enough to draw blood. They collide like a meteorite crashing onto Earth and Keith stumbles back, giving a small sound of surprise, halfway between a gasp and a groan that shoots straight to the pit of his stomach and sends his blood roaring in his ears. He swallows the sound, looping his arm around Keith’s waist with a bruising grip and no intention of ever letting him go, kissing him with a desperation that has endured for years. 

He feels like he’s floating outside of his body, consumed with bliss and disbelieving of his luck. Keith kisses like he flies, wild and frantic, like he’s chasing after an enemy ship and he’s giving it everything he’s got to destroy it into smithereens. His hands grab Lance’s suit, his hair, and his hips like he doesn’t know where to put his hands, desperation seeping out of him like a leaking faucet. Lance laps it up, kisses into his mouth ravenously like he’s a starved man and Keith is his sole sustenance. He threads his fingers into Keith’s silky hair, cupping the back of his neck and holding him tight. 

Keith pushes into his mouth and Lance staggers back. He presses a hand over Lance’s pounding heart and gives a small push. They stumble through the gifts on the floor until Lance is shoved against the dressing table, his back hitting the mirror hard enough for it to almost shatter. Keith’s fingertips press into his skin and his nails scrape Lance’s skin as his tongue licks against his. A shudder trembles through him, his violent heartbeat drowning out everything except Keith’s touch on him. 

Lance pulls Keith forward by his hips and twists them around, pushing him onto the dresser and cupping his face. He parts his legs and Lance fits himself between them, the dresser creaking and groaning under their weight. Keith is as familiar as the air in his lungs; his mouth is still soft, he still tastes like champagne and he still smells like the lingering smoke from a battlefield. Lance feels like he’s holding a memory that’s come to life, cupped between the palms of his hands and it’s rapturous, having Keith the way he’s dreamed of, he’s on cloud nine. In Keith’s arms, Lance finds his way back home. 

He pulls away from Keith’s lips to kiss the line of his jaw, nuzzling his skin and inhaling him in. He mouths along his neck, grappling with his tie to leave behind a trail of red bruises as Keith lets out a shaky sigh above him and stops at his pulse point. 

Lance smirks against his skin. “This is where he kissed you?” he mumbles into Keith’s neck. 

“Yeah,” Keith sighs.  

Lance kisses the bruised skin gently before placing his teeth around it, mouthing harshly. 

“Fuck, Lance,” Keith hisses. “That hurts.”

Lance pulls back to look at him. He’s a vision right out of a dream. Hair messy and a flush spreading from his face to his chest, he heaves breathlessly. His lips are bitten red, swollen and slicked with wetness as he watches Lance with dilated pupils. 

“That’s not his anymore,” Lance rasps out. “It’s mine.”

Keith stares at him incredulously. A ghost of a smile appears on his lips and he exhales a short laugh. “You’re crazy.”

Lance smiles. “Only for you,” he replies and catches Keith’s lips again. 

Something is wrong. The rhythm is off, he can feel it. His enthusiasm wanes until he kisses Lance too gently for his liking, cupping his face and stroking his thumb over Lance’s cheekbone. For a fleeting moment, Lance wonders if the mention of Elgron has cast doubts on his previous confessions, if he now regrets what he’s said and a slow trickle of unease drips into Lance’s chest. 

Keith pulls away reluctantly, stealing a kiss before he sighs and leans his forehead against Lance’s. “We shouldn’t do this,” he says quietly, his breath fluttering over Lance’s lips. 

Lance’s mouth catches the side of his neck. “Why?”

“I’m still with Elgron,” Keith replies, almost regretfully. Lance doesn’t want to hear it. “He’s a good guy.”

He mouths at the spot below his ear that he knows makes Keith squirm and without fail, he feels Keith shudder below him, letting out a pleased sigh. Lance thinks no one will ever know Keith’s body the way he does. “If he’s such a good guy, you wouldn’t have kissed me.”

Keith puts a hand on Lance’s chest but makes no move to push him away. “We really shouldn’t do this Lance.”

The uncertainty in his voice makes him draw back. Keith looks at him with furrowed brows, and fear climbs into his throat. There’s something swirling in his gaze, something that looks too close to regret and Lance’s stomach sinks. He doesn’t want Keith to leave him again, not when he’d just gotten him back. He doesn’t want to be another drunken mistake. He doesn’t want to go back to watching Keith from afar. 

He pulls away from Keith, letting out a sharp exhale. He runs his hands through his hair. “So, what?” he asks, voice unsteady with panic, throwing his arm up in the air helplessly. “You’re gonna go back to him and think about me every time you’re fucking him? Pretend like this didn’t happen, again? ”

Keith looks at him sharply. “No,” he says, frowning in disapproval. “I’m gonna leave him.”

Lance pauses. The fear ebbs away, replaced with a wave of hope that threatens to flood him. He doesn’t want to believe it, can’t bring himself to believe it in case his ears are deceiving him. He looks for any sign of deceit on Keith. “When?”

Keith looks down at his lap, his features betraying his guilt. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. 

Lance swallows thickly. He nods. “I can wait,” he decides. “I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

Keith looks up at him, wide-eyed in quiet disbelief as though Lance has declared he’ll spend the rest of his life loving him, his face lighting up with warmth. In a way, he has, Lance thinks. “Will you?”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “Just… just say you’ll come back this time.”

Keith’s gaze softens. “I’ll come back this time,” he replies quietly, giving him a small, tender smile. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Lance nods. “Okay.”

Keith reaches forward and cups the side of his face, his thumb stroking Lance’s cheekbone. He sprawls his hands on the nape of Lance’s neck and pulls him close, kissing him slowly. 

Lance memorizes the feel of his lips and imprints Keith’s touch onto his skin as though this is the last time he’ll have him. He cradles Keith’s face and breathes him in, binding him to the air in his lungs. Keith grips Lance tight and holds him close, his wordless plea making Lance’s chest clench up in pain. 

The door opens suddenly, a cacophony of music and loud conversation piercing into the bubble they’ve made for themselves and breaking them out of the trance they’ve found in each other. Keith opens his eyes, blinking up at him with his wide, violet gaze. Lance pulls away slightly, reluctant to step away from the heat of Keith’s body. 

Pidge stands in the doorway, her eyes wide and surprised before she scowls in disapproval. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks, letting the door shut behind her. “The wedding reception is in serious danger of becoming a snoozefest and you’re in here making out? Seriously? ”

Keith grips Lance’s shirt, hands clenched around the fabric and his body fraught with tension. Lance wonders if he’s having second thoughts about this. 

“Pidge… we—”

She sighs. “Listen, I’m glad you finally decided to admit you’re in love with each other but come on, there’s a time and place for everything,” she says, stalking over and picking up the fresh pair of pants they’d dropped in their scuffle. There’s a footprint on the hem that she wipes away with her sleeve. “And it’s not when they’re waiting to cut the cake.”

She storms out, the door slamming shut behind her and leaving them in silence. Lance wonders just how many people had known they’d loved each other before they themselves had caught on. 

Silent and still, they remain with their hands on each other. The mere thought of separating from Keith is excruciating. 

Keith sighs, his hand sliding to Lance’s waist. “We should probably go out there,” he says, despite tugging him closer. 

“We should,” Lance agrees, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Keith leans into his touch, angling his head and leaning against his palm, staring up at Lance with wide, violet eyes. Lance’s chest gives a tug, like there’s a string connecting him to Keith and it’s wrenching at his insides. 

Keith rises slowly, his breathing echoing in Lance’s ears. His restraint cracks and splinters, allowing silvers of abandon to sneak in and take over his control. Lance gives in and leans his forehead against Keith’s. Before he can press their lips together, Keith draws back, pulling Lance along like a fish with bait. Their labored breathing resounds in his ears, unbridled want raging like an uncontrollable fire, burning them both up. 

“They’re waiting on us,” Keith whispers, his voice strained. 

Lance breathes out shakily. “They can wait a few more seconds.”

Keith takes his hand, lacing their fingers and squeezing tightly. “I wish I could leave with you.”

Lance can hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it throbbing against his temples. It feels like it’s threatening to burst apart any moment, filled to the brim and swelling with a longing that never seems to leave him. “What’s stopping us?”

Keith looks at him. For a moment it seems like he’s contemplating it. “A lot.”

With great difficulty, they withdraw. Keith runs his hands through his hair, trying to make himself presentable after Lance had spent the last ten minutes with his fingers threaded through the raven locks. Lance adjusts his suit, his gaze snagging on Keith’s unbuttoned collar and crooked tie. 

“Hey, c’mere,” Lance says. Keith blinks at him beneath his bangs. Lance huffs out a pleased laugh and inches closer, reaching out to adjust his collar and straighten his tie. Lance’s fingers graze his neck and he catches the sharp hitch in Keith’s breath as he tenses. “I didn’t mean to rough you up.”

Keith slaps his hand over Lance’s, pausing his ministrations. “I can do it myself,” he says forcefully. 

Lance recoils, stung. “Sorry,” he says, making to move away. 

Keith grabs his hand, keeping him close. “No—I just—” he looks at Lance desperately. “If you keep touching me, we’re never going to leave this room.”

“Okay,” Lance says, a pleased trickle of warmth replacing the sting and settling in his chest. “Okay.” 

He clenches his hands into fists by his sides to prevent himself from reaching out to touch Keith, red crescent moons stamped onto his palms. Then, it’s over. Just as soon as it’s begun. They face the door, reluctant to step out into the open, yearning to stay in this quiet, dim room where it’s just the two of them and their feelings spanning years and galaxies. 

Keith moves first. He spares a long moment looking at Lance, his gaze flickering and drinking him in. He turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. He stands there for a moment, head bowed as Lance watches him, his heart aching in his chest. 

He twists the handle and a small crack of light floods the dim room. 

Lance feels like the world is ending. Distraught with panic, he darts out, grabbing Keith’s wrist, his chest expanding with all the affection his body can bear for the boy in front of him. 

“Keith, I have to…” he shudders out, his voice wavering. Keith looks at him like he knows the next words out of his mouth; like he’s dreading it, like he’s hoping for it. Lance feels like if he doesn’t say it now, he might die. He draws in a breath that rattles in his lungs. “I love you.”

Keith’s face shatters, with despair or elation, he cannot tell. His brows draw together, eyes wide with fondness and he gives a small smile. “I know,” he says quietly and Lance can hear the echo of his heart in his skull. Keith’s gaze swirls with devotion. “I love you too.”

Keith drops his hand and opens the door, sparing him one last glance. His face creased with agony, Keith leaves. Lance stands in the silent room, alone, feeling yet again like he’s running after something out of his reach. A few minutes later, Lance leaves. Amidst the crowd, he sees Keith heading for Elgron. 

Keith goes back to his boyfriend. Lance goes back to wanting and waiting for Keith from afar.

Awaiting Keith’s return is quite possibly worse than being hopelessly in love with him. This time he knows Keith returns his feelings. This time he knows Keith will come back for him. Despite that, his body is thrumming with impatience, his hands itching with the inescapable need to touch Keith. 

He knows Keith needs time to break things off with Elgron, so when the days after Shiro’s wedding continue without a word from Keith, he grapples his restlessness into submission. With exam season coming up, he becomes submerged in paperwork, which takes up most of his attention and distracts him from the empty space in his chest cavity that’s been left by Keith’s absence. He finds that missing Keith aches just as bad as wanting him. 

A few days turn into a week. A week turns into two. Into three. Lance begins worrying. Old habits die hard and he goes back to looking for any mention of Keith on The Intergalactic Times. Perhaps he’s on a mission. Perhaps he’s changed his mind. 

Three weeks turns into a month. Lance’s hope begins to wear away like a cliff standing against the battering ocean waves. It’s evident that Keith has chosen Elgron over him, and despite his promises, he’s decided he doesn’t want Lance anymore. He can’t blame Keith, Elgron is probably better suited for him. They’ve both had to fight against their own kind and considering that, Keith has far more in common with him than he does with Lance. Lance is too indecisive, too jealous, and sometimes he’s too self-absorbed. The only thing he has going for him is that he somehow miraculously saved the universe. He doesn’t have anything to offer Keith. It’s easier than admitting the truth, which is that he will never be good enough for Keith. He can try his goddamn hardest but even his best doesn’t hold a candle to Keith’s worst. 

He goes right back to square one, hopelessly longing for Keith with an unbearable weight in his chest slowly suffocating him. He loses sleep, staring up at his ceiling and wondering if Keith is going to spend the rest of his life with Elgron. The thought sends a sudden, sharp pang through him and he clutches his chest, afraid his heart may give out. He should’ve known this was going to happen. After all, Lance is not the kind of person who gets what he wants, who deserves good things, and Keith, he’s the greatest of them all. 

He’s in the middle of grading exam papers, hands streaked with ink and the words in front of him blurring into an unintelligible jumble. He’s sitting on the floor, leaning over the coffee table with his back to the couch, the TV providing him with a quiet distraction. 

There’s a knock on his door and Lance startles, his pen coming to a halt. He frowns, looking at the clock. No one comes around at this time of night unless it’s his sister Veronica when she decides to pay him impromptu visits just to bother him. Another possibility crosses his mind, threatening to send a thrill of exhilaration through him before he tamps it down. It’s not him, Lance tells himself. 

He gets up, padding to the door. His pulse spikes nervously as his hand closes around the door handle. 

Lance opens the door. His eyes blow wide, lips parting in surprise. His wretched heart gives a leap.

Keith stands on the other side. 

“Hey,” he says, lips pulling into a nervous smile. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Lance stares at him, dazed with surprise. “You came back,” he says with quiet disbelief. 

Keith’s brows crease. “You didn’t think I would?”

He swallows thickly. “I don’t—I don’t know… I didn’t think you’d choose me,” he says shakily, relief flooding his veins in waves. “I thought you were going to stay with him.” 

Keith’s brows draw together, his gaze swimming with tenderness. He takes a step forward, reaching for Lance before he halts, uncertain. Lance’s hand moves of its own accord, reaching for Keith’s as though it cannot bear to be alone for another second longer. 

“Lance,” he says softly and his name has never sounded so loved on someone’s lips. His thumb strokes Lance’s knuckles. “I’d choose you over anyone.”

He feels his face break out into a flush, his cheeks burning. Keith smiles, pleased with himself. 

“Don’t flatter me,” he replies, struggling to keep his voice steady. “You disappeared for a whole month Keith, I thought that was it… I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I always want you, I always have,” Keith says, his gaze soft and Lance’s knees threaten to give away beneath him. “I ended it with Elgron right after the wedding and I was on my way here when Kolivan caught up to me. He sent me under again to track a group of Galrans that were holding missing rebel fighters captive. And I thought about calling you, almost every second of every day, but if my transmission was intercepted, you would’ve been caught in the crossfire.”

Lance looks at him closely. He looks tired and there’s a streak of dirt smudged across his cheek. He’s still clad in his Blade suit and his knife, fastened to his waist, has a smear of blood along the edge. It seems like he came straight to Lance the second his mission ended, and it makes Lance’s heart swell in his chest dangerously. 

He reaches out and cups the side of Keith’s face, wiping away the dirt on his cheek. Keith leans into his touch. “How many times do I have to tell you I can look after myself?”

“But if anything happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” he replies. “You know that.”

Lance smiles. “I didn’t know you cared so much about me.”

Keith leans against the doorway, looking at him adoringly. “I care only about you.”

Lance tries to will away the blush burning his face and narrows his eyes. “Are you buttering me up for something?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “No,” he replies, and his lips twitch in amusement. “Maybe for one thing.”

Lance crosses his arms over his chest. “And what’s that?”

He straightens and looks over his shoulder at the hallway behind him. “Maybe I should come in.”

“Only if you stay,” Lance replies, standing back and letting him enter. 

“I don’t plan on leaving,” Keith replies as he walks in. 

Lance swallows thickly. “I don’t plan on letting you go.”

The door clicks shut behind him and they’re alone in his apartment. Lance’s palms are clammy. He wipes them on his pants. He didn’t think this would happen, that they’d even get this far and now they have, he doesn’t know what to do.

Keith turns to him with a pleased smile. “Good.”

Lance nods. “Great,” he replies, his heart in his throat. “Now then, what was that one thing you wanted?”

Keith’s gaze flickers down to his lips and Lance’s gut flares with heat. “This,” he says, voice hoarse and bridges the distance between them in two short strides. 

Keith cups his face and bends his head low, capturing his mouth. Lance holds him by his waist, his head spinning as Keith kisses him. His lips are soft and unyielding, kissing into his mouth hungrily. He smells like smoke and gunfire and it reminds Lance of home. 

He steers them toward the couch and Keith falls on top of him in a heap. He leans over him, arms braced on either side of his head to look down at Lance like he’s seeing him for the first time. Lance loops his arms around Keith’s neck and gazes up at him, eyes swimming with devotion. Keith smiles happily, the happiest he’s ever seen him and catches his lips again. They’re pressed together, legs tangled and fingers intertwined. Lance doesn’t know where he begins and where Keith ends. 

Lance cups his face, hands raised toward him like a prayer, cradling Keith almost reverently. It feels as though all his dreams have been granted because Lance is holding his entire life in the palms of his hands.

Two months later, they’re still on the same spot on the couch. The TV plays an old nineties movie, but Lance is more focused on Keith’s arms around him, his idle fingers drawing patterns across his skin. Their legs are tangled on the coffee table in front of them and Kosmo rolls around on the floor, playing with one of Nadia’s old toys. 

Keith has to leave for another mission in a few days and Lance is struggling to find the words to tell him that maybe he should move in rather than go back and forth between the Garrison and Lance’s place. Keith’s been thinking of getting a place of his own on Earth, opting to spend more time here than in distant galaxies, but Lance doesn’t know how to tell him that rather than spending more money and time finding a new place, he should just move in because Keith practically lives here anyway. His eyes dart to Keith’s Blade suit slung over one of the chairs, Kosmo’s bed placed against the wall, and little bits and pieces of Keith’s belongings strewn across the lounge. 

Keith rubs his arm, breaking him out of his thoughts. The touch sends tingles across his body and Lance thinks that for as long as he lives, it will never fail to feel like it’s the very first time Keith is touching him. 

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Keith asks, voice raspy with drowsiness. 

Lance straightens against him, gazing into his eyes. “I need to tell you something,” he says, playing with Keith’s fingers. 

Keith spares him a sidelong glance before turning back to the TV. “You’re not breaking up with me,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Okay,” Lance huffs out a laugh. “Why not?”

“I didn’t spend years wanting you just for you to leave after two months,” Keith replies, winding his arm around Lance’s waist and tugging him closer until he’s pressed flush against his body. Lance loops his arms around Keith’s neck. “It’s not happening.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Lance says, lovingly tucking his hair behind his ear, watching with glee as Keith’s face reddens at the endearment. Keith tightens his hold on him. “I meant it when I said I don’t plan on letting you go.”

Keith turns to him, his gaze soft, lips pulling into a happy smile. “What do you need to tell me?”

Lance fiddles with a button on Keith’s jacket, suddenly nervous. “I don’t know if it’s too soon but…” he keeps his eyes on his lap. “I was thinking maybe… maybe you could move in.”

Keith grips his hand tightly. Lance looks up and catches his surprised gaze. “Do you mean that?” he asks quietly. 

“Yeah, ‘course Keith,” he replies earnestly. “I thought it’d make sense y’know, since you said you were thinking of finding a place close to me, you should just live here.”

“I’d be more than happy to,” Keith replies, lips breaking out into a smile and growing wider until he’s beaming. Lance’s heart warms over in his chest, leaking affection into his veins and filling his body with love. “But only if you’re ready.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been ready since the day I saw you at the altar at Shiro’s wedding and decided I want you for the rest of my life,” Lance replies. 

Keith’s lips part in surprise, his red cheeks deepening to an impossible shade of scarlet. His violet eyes swirl with astonishment, tinged with adoration unlike he’s ever seen before. He surges forward suddenly, catching his lips in a fiery kiss, pouring his wordless affection into Lance. He pulls away, looking at him with sparkling eyes. 

“Really?” he breathes. 

“Yeah,” Lance murmurs, grazing his fingers across Keith’s face. He can’t seem to keep his hands off of him. He doesn’t know what his hands did before they held Keith, cannot imagine how they could have endured without Keith’s skin beneath his fingertips. “Besides, I wanna keep you close. You spend far too much of your time away and between my classes, I don’t get to see you as much as I’d like.”

Keit bites his lip, trying to suppress a pleased smile. “About that…” he starts. “Kolivan’s planning to set up a Blade of Marmora base on Earth, and he and my mom have been thinking about making it the central command center, and I’d be the one leading it.”

Lance feels a thrill of excitement zip through him. “Really?” he grins. 

“Yeah,” Keith gives a small chuckle and the sound goes straight to his chest, his heart beating in sync with Keith’s laughter. “So you’ll have me all to yourself.” 

Lance cups the nape of his neck, drawing him close. “I can’t think of anything better,” he replies, smiling against his mouth before he kisses him deeply. Keith melts against his lips and with his arms full of Keith, Lance feels like he’s won the greatest war the universe has ever seen, standing triumphant, hand in hand with Keith, his greatest victory.