Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Lance exhales and adjusts his hold on the controls of the pod.

Still nothing outside the window. Just miles and miles of nothingness, not even a star or a galaxy for him to look at.

He stretches his back and settles back into the seat, blinking slowly.

He’s been flying for… God knows how long. He couldn’t have woken Allura up to form a wormhole, not without alerting the rest of the team, so he’s been stuck flying straight forward with nothing in sight.

More like holding onto the controls while the ship was on autopilot. Lance had jabbed in the last known coordinates of the Marmora base, the very same coords that he had been given when he had left, so that now all he needed to do was make sure he didn’t accidentally steer off-course.

He hasn’t eaten since last night, or maybe it had been the morning, and he hasn’t slept since the previous sleep cycle, the one before he left.

He’s exhausted, but he can’t stop to rest, not until he’s reached the base.

Lance shakes his head and opens his eyes, desperately trying to stay awake. He hadn’t even realised that he had closed them.

“Fuck,” Lance mumbles, rubbing his eyelids. “Stay awake, McClain. Stay awake.”

He’s pulled all-nighters before, back at the Garrison when he had forgotten to finish an essay in time, but that had been before. Before the lions, before they were thrust into the war, before—

Before him.

Lance exhales slowly and refocuses himself towards the window. He had closed his eyes without knowing again.

Maybe a short nap wouldn’t hurt…

No! Lance slaps either side of his face and rubs at his eyes. He has to stay awake. He’ll be arriving at the base any minute, and they’ll need to identify him immediately otherwise his pod will be terminated.

Which is definitely not what he wants to happen.

The space in front of his pod seems to be… shimmering, almost, but Lance can’t tell if it’s because of some cool science thing he ‘would never understand’, or if he’s sleep deprived.

Lance blames it on the latter and finds that his eyes have closed without his permission again.

He’s so close, so close to finding the base and gaining the freedom he’s been dreaming of for months. He can’t fail now, not when he’s this close.

His pod stops moving, and the hum of the engine hesitates, a stutter in the steady thrum.

“No.” Lance smacks the controls in his hands and tries to urge the pod forward. “No, don’t—”

He can’t be at the base yet, because there's nothing as far as he can see! There’s nothing outside his window, no planets or moons or stations he could hail for help—

So, because the universe hates him, and because everything seems to hate him at the moment, his pod splutters to a stop. The hum of the engine whines, and then slowly quietens until it is no more.

“Fuck!” Lance kicks the base of the pod’s dashboard. His voice is quieter than he expected. It sounded like his throat had been shoved against a cheese grater. “C’mon, work, damnit!”

The lights in the pod shut down, and the navigation screen flickers off, leaving Lance in complete darkness.

He can’t even see his reflection in the glass.

Nonononono—

“No.” Lance glares out this window, at the vast emptiness of space, spare for the tiny dots of distant stars. In the direction of where he thought the window was, anyways. “Not– No.”

Well, fuck. The pod must be out of fuel. And with no way to go outside and refuel it, Lance is kind of screwed.

He's out of fuel, out of power, and stuck in the middle of nowhere with nobody that he can contact or a tracking signal to use to find him.

“Oh my God,” Lance says, staring forward into the inky black abyss. “Fuck my life, honestly.”

He opens his eyes— Wait, when did he close them?

It doesn’t matter. Unless his pod magically gets more fuel, there’s no way Lance is going anywhere. And since he had deactivated the tracking signal—

He's gonna die out here.

Lance can feel himself spiralling, drifting out of orbit as it hits him. He's never going to see Red again, he's never going to see his home again, he's never going to see his family again. He's never going to see his family again.

A sobs claws out of his throat and shudders, sinking down from the pilot's seat to the floor of the pod. He can't do this.

He can't– He's so stupid, no wonder the other paladins would call him names instead of praising him. He forgot rations, he forgot fuel, and he made it impossible for anyone to track him.

Lance can't tell if his eyes are open or not.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he rested his eyes for a second. Just… Just for a second. His eyes are closed, right? Yeah, they definitely feel closed. Lance lowers himself down to the ground and curls his knees to his chest, resting his head on the cool metal floor.

He’ll run out of oxygen eventually. It’ll probably be easier to go in his sleep, if he can. That’s if he doesn’t go crazy from isolation first. It’s not like he brought anything else to do, anyways.

The pod lights up blue and Lance's head shoots up. Had the power turned back on? Had it just been an electrical field or storm or… something like that, that he passed through that had somehow zapped all the energy from the pod?

…That had sounded way better in his head. He scoffs at himself.

The power had not, in fact, turned on, he notices sadly as he sees the rest of the pod in stark, cold darkness. But, to his luck, and considering his awful luck this truly was lucky, the emergency communication line had opened and a hologram of a Blade was displayed above the pod's control deck.

“Oh,” Lance chokes out, staring at the Blade from where he was sitting on the floor. “Oh. Oh! Oh, my God. You– You found me!”

The Blade remains silent, but Lance doesn't mind. He's so tired, even the smallest hope that he might survive grips him like a vice.

Lance laughs hysterically. He's gonna live.

“Thank fuck,” Lance grins, standing up on wobbly legs so he can look at the screen properly. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

The Blade gives him a stiff nod. Understandable. Lance knows that most of Blades find him to be too much to be around, too much energy and too much volume for their noise sensitive ears.

He can't bring himself to be offended, this time. All he can think of is the overwhelming relief that he's gonna make it home alive.

“State your name and business,” the Blade says, slightly muffled through their mask.

Lance's smile falters slightly. Surely, his face is instantly recognisable to all the Blades, as a figurehead of Voltron. Maybe it's because he's not wearing his armor. Or maybe it's because he's not arriving in the beacon screaming ‘I AM A PALADIN’ that is the Red Lion.

“State your name and business,” the Blade repeats. The purple circles on their mask, that Lance sometimes likes to jokingly call eyes, bore into his soul.

“I–” Lance stutters. “The name's Lance, red paladin of Voltron. Is– Is Keith there?”

The masked Blade stares at him for a few seconds, hands still hovering in the air.

They’re so still that Lance almost checks to see if the screen had frozen. Of course, it hasn’t, and Lance almost falls off his chair from the wave of vertigo that hits him instantly.

“Uh?” Lance blinks again and wow, is the screen getting fuzzier or is it just him? “Hello? Is— Is Keith there or not? Pretty short guy, temper of a hungry racoon, has the worst haircut known to man?”

The Blade stares at him some more, before they turn to the side and patter out of frame.

Uh. Alright, then. That was… weird, to say the least. Maybe Keith wasn’t in the room, and they're just getting him now.

The Blade comes back and looks between Lance and someone approaching them, their shoulders hunched up to their ears.

Lance eagerly awaits to see Keith’s horrendous mullet, but instead he sees Kolivan’s periwinkle braid, wrapped around his neck. He sighs and shakes his head to wake himself up again.

Kolivan isn’t Keith, obviously. But he should be able to find him. Lance just has to convince him to let him take a nap in their spare quarters first, somehow.

“Red Paladin?” Kolivan says in bemusement. “Are my Blades being requested by Voltron again? Where is the rest of your team?”

Lance blinks again, but it seems to take longer to open his eyes than the previous times had.

“Oh,” he replies. “What?”

Kolivan clicks his tongue.

“Are our volunteers being summoned by Voltron for the war again?” Kolivan asks. He flicks his ear and Lance thinks, deliriously, that it’s actually kind of cute, like an irritated cat.

Dios. He just used Kolivan and cute in the same sentence. Lance really has lost his mind.

“Mmn, no,” Lance sighs. “Where’s— Uh, is Keith there? I need to… Need to talk to him.”

Like the Blade from before, Kolivan simply stares at him with a calculating stare.

Lance is so tired of being on the other end of a calculating stare.

“Look, is he there or not?” Lance snaps, leaning forward. “I just need to talk to him.”

The other Blade flinches, but Kolivan remains tall, tilting his head as Lance’s voice changes in tone.

“Red Paladin,” Kolivan says slowly. “Ah, would you describe Keith as your… life companion?”

Lance considers this briefly. Would he consider Keith as a life-long companion?

He’s too tired to wonder why Kolivan might be asking such a question.

“Yeah, I would,” Lance nods, but he almost passes out from the dizziness it gives him, so he stops just as quickly as he had started. “Keith’s my life companion. Is he there?”

He hears various sharp inhales and gasps from the screen, even a sad trill, but he’s too tired. He’s so, so tired.

“That… explains a lot,” Kolivan says finally. “I’m terribly sorry for your pain, Red Paladin. Yes, he is here. I believe he is on the training deck.”

Huh. It’s getting harder to breathe. Lance wonders what that’s a consequence of.

“Typical,” Lance chuckles as spots dance across his vision. “Uh. Well, I'm gonna take a nap while I wait. Tell him I'm looking forward to seeing him.”

“Red Paladin?” Kolivan says, frowning. “You must try and stay awake. It will be far more difficult if—”

“Just… Just a quick nap,” Lance mutters, his head slumping forward. He slides down to the ground and lets himself lean against the chair. “Just…”

“Red Paladin—” Kolivan starts in alarm.

Lance inhales sharply as his eyes fly open, wincing at the bright light just above his face. He’s not propped up against the pilot’s chair anymore, rather laying on his back and his hands parallel to his body.

The floor is far softer than he remembered, he notices as his eyes adjust to the lighting. The room is also more purple. And he didn’t remember there being a bed in the pod, as he realises what he’s actually lying on

He is definitely not in the pod anymore.

“Oh, hey,” someone to his left says. “You’re awake.”

Keith.

“Keith,” Lance breathes out. “You’re— You’re here.”

Sure enough, when he looks over to his side, Keith is sitting in a chair with his body slouched forward, head tilted in his direction. A communicator was clenched tightly between his hands, and when he looks closers Lance notices his knuckles have gone a tense white.

Lance licks his lips, opens his mouth, but he can’t think a single thing to say.

The months between when they had last seen each other had treated Keith well, in the slightly more defined muscles of his arms and broader shoulders. His jawline had sharpened, only just, and his cheekbones sat higher on his face.

His piercing damson eyes, however, remained exactly the same.

“Yeah,” Keith says, shoving his communicator into his pocket. “And you’re here.”

“Uh,” Lance says as he sits up underneath the thin sheets. He’s still processing how much ho— more defined Keith looks after months spent following the extensive Blade training. “Uh. Where is here, exactly?”

“Main Blade Headquarters,” Keith tells him, and then he winces. “Don’t… tell Kolivan I called it that. He doesn’t like it when you say that. I dunno why.”

“Huh,” Lance says. He laughs to himself. “Don’t worry. I won’t snitch.”

There’s some sort of tension between them, something sharp and eletrifying that has the hair on Lance’s arms standing up straight.

His eyes dart down to Keith’s lip, pretty and plush and pink, before he can catch himself. He wonders how they would feel pressed against his own.

“Why are you here, Lance?” Keith murmurs, leaning forward in his seat. “They said you passed out from exhaustion before you could make it to the base, that you were showing signs of malnourishment and severe dehydration.”

“Oh,” Lance says, biting on his cheek. “That explains why I felt so dizzy.”

“But why did they say that?”

“Well, uh,” Lance starts. “I’d— I had to travel for a pretty long time before I got here, and I couldn’t sleep or anything just in case I got pushed off course by an asteroid or something, so.”

Keith narrows his eyes

“How long is pretty long?” He asks, his voice dangerously low.

Lance swallows, hard. He can’t even think about lying to him, though. He can never lie to Keith. No matter how hard he tries, he always manages to pry the truth out of him, somehow.

“A day and a half,” Lance admits quietly, bringing his knees to his chest.

He winces when he hears Keith swear underneath his breath, the creek of his chair as he leans forward.

“Lance,” Keith sighs.

“Hey,” Lance protests. “It’s not my fault your super-secret Blade base is super secret!”

“That’s not the point,” Keith frowns. “You— Why did you come all the way out here? And a pod? Why didn’t you take Red? If it was important, I dunno, wouldn’t you have taken Red?”

Lance flinches.

Not important, not important, not—

He can’t tell Keith. Not only would he think that he was a liar, but he’d also send him right back to the castleship and tell everyone what he said, and—

“It—” Lance shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Keith says, sounding increasingly frustrated. “You show up at a Blade base, in an Altean escape pod, halfway to death and unconscious. Of course it matters!”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“It does! Is someone hurt?”

“Just drop it, Keith!” Lance snaps, slamming his hand against the bed. “It doesn’t—”

“Is it Shiro?” Keith asks, desperately. His eyes widen at Lance’s sharp inhale of breath. “It is! Is he hurt? Is he safe? Did he go missing again? Did Zarkon—”

“Shiro’s fine,” Lance hisses. “He’s fine. I’m fine. Nobody's hurt. Everything is fine.”

He can practically feel the betrayal radiating off of Keith in droves, in the furrow of his brow and the pout of his mouth.

He hates it. Lance wishes that he could take it back, that he could take the whole conversation back and wake up again to find Keith watching his by his side

“Fine,” Keith says, his eyes flashing with hurt before he schools his expression. “Don't tell me. Whatever.”

Lance huddles closer to the wall, biting down on his tongue before he can say anything else.

It seems to happen every time he does so much as think about Keith. He can never control himself when it comes to him, certainly not when he's right in front of him. It's like he's possessed, unable to do anything but show off his teeth whenever Keith bares his neck. Unable to do anything but bite down and claim his fresh kill.

Keith looks at him and sighs again, seemingly giving up. Lance wonders how pathetic he must look for that to happen.

“You’re lucky they didn’t shoot you down before you got to the base,” Keith says quietly, placing his hand on top of Lance’s. “The only reason they didn’t was because the pod was registered as the Castleship's in the system, and they thought something had happened to Voltron.”

“Oh,” Lance says, quietly. “Um, well, at least they didn't.”

Keith clicks his tongue. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it again, turning his head to the side.

Lance wishes he could launch himself from the bed into Keith’s arms, beg for a hug and comfort and love, everything he's been missing since Blue brought them to space. But he can't, and he’s positive that if he even tried, Keith would throw him to the ground in disgust.

“At least you're here now,” Keith smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” Lance says, and he feels the corners of his mouth turn upward.

He can't help it. Everything about Keith makes him want to smile.

Keith squeezes his hand and sweeps his bangs off of his forehead, glancing momentarily at the ceiling.

“Hey, um, so,” Keith starts, leaning closer to Lance’s bed. “Kolivan said something really weird earlier. You didn’t, uh, tell Kolivan that we were— Like, you didn’t say we were, uh—”

The door slides open and they both jump. Lance’s eyes dart to the entrance. Kolivan and another Blade are glancing between the two of them, and Lance is suddenly very aware of how close they are to each other.

Lance realises his hand has been resting underneath Keith’s and pulls it away quickly, giving Keith a guilty, sorry smile.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Kolivan says slowly.

“Yup!” He smiles, decidedly not looking in Keith's direction. He doesn't think that he can handle yet another expression of hurt across his face. “Just woke up.”

Keith pushes himself out of his chair and Lance ignores the painful stab in his chest.

“Uh, did you need something?” Keith asks, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“Yes,” Kolivan says. “Please tell the other paladins whether or not you are going back to Voltron. They will not stop asking me about it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Keith nods.

“Thank you,” Kolivan says, giving him a single nod. “Ah— It is good to see you finally awake, Red Paladin. Keith was very worried about your health.”

Keith's face turns a funny shade of red.

“Wait,” Lance says, looking between the two. “How long was I unconscious?”

“About two quintants,” Kolivan informs him. “I believe that is the Altean conversion.”

“Two days,” Keith murmurs to him.

“I was asleep for two days?” Lance asks in alarm. “Huh. No wonder I feel so greasy.”

“I had to I inject you with hydration and nutrition shots every day,” Keith tells him. “It was gross.

“Wait. I was asleep for two days,” Lance frowns, his thoughts going so fast that he can barely catch them before theh disappear again. “And nobody asked if you knew where I was?”

Keith bit his cheek.

“Hunk sent me a PM informing me that you'd gone missing and that if I knew where you were I should tell him,” he admits.

“Did you tell him?” Lance asks, anxiety gripping him like a vice.

Keith hesitates, just for a second, and his anxiety increases by the tenfold.

“...No,” Keith says, to Lance's relief. “But you better give me a good reason why I'm not telling him. I don't like lying to Hunk.”

“I'll tell you later,” Lance dismisses. He had to plans to tell him later and was entirely relying on Keith, hopefully, forgetting all about it.

“I remember when my kaeir and I were like that,” Kolivan says, almost wistfully. It’s the most emotion Lance has ever heard in his voice.

Keith makes a strange sound, that half sounds like he's choking and half sounds like a dying horse.

“What?” He asks, distracted by the word that didn't translate.

“Kolivan,” Keith hisses, his face turning an even darker shade of red.

“My kaeir and I,” Kolivan repeats, and the word continues to stubbornly refuse to translate. “We were similar to you when we were matched. It is a sign of a strong and healthy bond.”

“Kolivan.”

“What's a kai-year?” Lance asks, curiosity winning him over.

Keith shoots him a glare. Lance wonders if he did something wrong. It’s not his fault that the word won’t register in their translator.

“Kaeir,” Kolivan corrects. “A lifelong partner. Someone will stand next to you when you need and help you through your darkest times.”

“Oh, cool,” Lance nods in understanding. “So like a best friend?”

Kolivan blinks.

“Perhaps?” He frowns. “My kaeir is also my… ‘best friend’, as you put it.”

So not a best friend, then. Lance opens his mouth to ask another question—

“I've told the Castle that I'm not coming back,” Keith interrupts. Lance hadn't noticed that he had pulled his communicator out again. “Uh. Kolivan. I need to—”

Keith makes a vague gesture towards Lance and Kolivan's eyes widen, just slightly.

“Ah,” Kolivan says, and Lance shakes his head, sure that he's imagining the tiny raise in pitch of his voice. “I will leave you to it.”

“Thank you,” Keith replies, his face steadily growing redder and redder.

If Lance isn't mistaken, it almost looks as of Kolivan is blushing, if he squinted hard enough.

Keith adverts his eyes to the ground and refuses to lift them as Kolivan inches backwards towards the door, slowly. Lance feels very much like he missed something important.

“Keith,” Kolivan starts, pausing in the doorway, a hand resting on the frame.

“Yeah?”

Kolivan's eyes dart to Lance for a millisecond, so quickly that Lance wonders if he imagined it.

“Remember to stay safe,” Kolivan tells them, his eyebrows falling into his signature stern frowns.

Keith makes the choking sound again, and then Kolivan is gone, leaving Lance and Keith alone again.

“What did he mean by stay safe?” Lance asks, as Keith pushes his hands to his face.

“Nothing, he didn't mean anything by it,” Keith sighs. “He was just… joking.”

“He didn't look like he was joking,” Lance grumbles.

Keith grunts in agreement.

Kaeir. Lance wonders why it sounds so important, like something he should hold tight to his chest and never let go.

“What's a kaeir?” Lance asks before he can stop himself.

Keith's face once again turns very red, and he jolts forward just slightly.

“Uh, what Kolivan said, a lifelong partner,” Keith mumbles, and he sits back in his chair with a huff. “Uh, like a husband or a wife. Married spouse. But a bit less serious. And without the ceremony part.”

“Aw, that's cute,” Lance says. “But no ceremony? No special marmoran blade exchange?”

He totally hadn't been imagining what a Marmorite wedding might have looked like, or anything. Nope, not at all. Not the outfits or the flower arrangements or the food.

“...What?” Keith blinks at him. “Uh. No.”

“Oh.” Lance lays back against the mattress and brings the sheet up to his chin, closing his eyes. “Shame.”

“What are you even talking about?” Keith asks in bemusement. “And why are you going back to sleep? You just woke up.”

“I dunno,” Lance replies, keeping his eyes shut. “Nothing else to do, I guess.”

“So you're going back to sleep?” Keith scoffs. “You know you're only tired because you haven't moved around that much in the last four days.”

Lance hums in acknowledgement.

He can sleep for as long as he wants to. It's not like there's anything else for him to do on the base, and the only people he knows by name are Kolivan and Keith himself, so there's nobody for him to go up to and have a conversation with without looking like a total weirdo.

Besides, Keith will probably drag him out to do some training eventually, just like he did on the castleship. It's what friends do, after all.

Keith wasn't the only friend that took care of him when he was at his worst on the castleship, though. Hunk made sure he was healthy and tried to make him feel happy, even when he buried himself in his blankets and refused to leave his room.

Lance really misses Hunk. After he started drifting towards Pidge more, Lance had been left all on his lonesome, tilting his head in confusion as Hunk and Pidge worked on their brand new super-cool project.

Which wasn't his fault! Friendships fluctuate, Lance reminds himself, but his brow doesn't relax. Hunk is allowed to have other friends, friends that aren't Lance. He's still Lance's friend, even though they don't spend all day together anymore. He's Pidge's friend too, and Allura's. He just spends more time with Pidge at the moment.

That's very fair, Lance reminds himself. He's working on important things, and just because he has less time for Lance, that doesn't make him any less important.

…Right?

That's what Hunk had told him, but Lance can't shake the feeling that he had only told him that to make him go and bother someone else.

They're still friends, Lance tells himself, ignoring the way his heart beats quicker in his chest. They're still friends.

He'll just spend more time with Keith, now that he's got the chance. They can train together, and eat meals together, which is what Lance assumes most friends and kaeir did on the base. There didn't seem to be much more of an option to do anything else.

Lance thinks about Keith having a partner like a kaeir on the base, and shudders. It doesn't seem like something that Keith would appreciate, in Lance's opinion. Maybe it's just because he can't imagine Keith having anyone he would call his life partner.

Lance recalls how Kolivan had asked if he and Keith were life partners and chuckles. The idea of Keith having a life partner is so ridiculous, so unfathomable, so absolutely wild—

Wait.

Kolivan had asked if they were life partners. He had asked if they were kaeir, and Lance had said yes.

And with that, Lance bolts upright, the sheets cascading down his body and pooling around his waist.

“Keith,” he hisses, panic filling every pore of his body.

“What?” Keith demands, glaring at him from his bedside perch. “What is it?”

Lance feels like his heart is going to pound out of his chest. Is he shaking? It feels like he's shaking. He can't tell if it's from terror or excitement.

“Do all the Blades think we're married?”

There is a few seconds of blissful silence until his question had registered in Keith's head.

“What?” Keith splutters, staring at him. “What are you—”

“Life partners mean kaeir, like, married, right?” Lance says, ignoring the way his hands shake. “Because I might've, uh, accidentally implied we were together if it does.”

“You what?” Keith growls out, sitting up straight in his chair.

“I didn't do it on purpose!” Lance defends. “It’s not my fault you guys are super mysterious and—”

“Lance, why would you even—” Keith shakes his head. “That explains why they insisted that I stay here the whole time…”

“It's fine!” Lance defends, “We'll just go to Kolivan and explain that I didn't know what I meant, I'm sure they'll understand!”

“We can't just go to Kolivan and tell him that you lied to him!” Keith says, exasperated. “And now I have to lie to him too.”

“Why not?” Lance argues. “If we explain it to him it’ll be fine! I'll take the blame and then you'll be fine!”

Keith puts his face in his hands and yells, muffled through his fingers and gloves.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Lance continues, fiddling with the seam along the top of the sheets. “It can’t be that bad, right?”

Keith stares at him from behind his hands, mouth twisted into an annoyed downward curl.

“If we go up to them and tell them that you lied to them,” he starts, sliding his hands down his face slowly, “and that I continued the lie for two days, about being kaeir— They'll kick me out.”

“They wouldn’t kick you out over a misunderstanding,” Lance dismisses. “...Would they?”

Keith raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh,” Lance stutters. “They would?”

“Yes, Lance,” Keith sighs. “There aren’t many couples in the Blade. Kaeir pairs are celebrated, and beloved. You don’t lie about that.”

“Why aren’t there many couples in the Blade?” Lance asks, and then he winces. “Oh, right. We’re in a war, ha. No time for romance. Should’ve known.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, a faraway look in his eyes. He blinks and shakes his head, clearing his expression. “I just— I can’t believe you told Kolivan that we’re together.”

Lance squawks in indignation.

“He asked if we were lifelong partners, actually,” he sniffs. “Which… okay, I see your point now.”

“How did you not— You know what? Nevermind.”

“I don't know? I think you can have lifelong partners in the non homo, explicitly platonic way,” Lance says, watching as Keith twitches with discomfort. “Kiss your homies goodnight and all that.”

“Yeah, but kaeir aren’t ‘platonic besties’, Lance,” Keith replies, his eyebrows slowly inching together on his face. “There’s no ‘I’m wearing socks so no homo haha’ with your lifelong partner.”

Lance snorts.

“Mnnn, agree to disagree,” Lance says, a smile working its way onto his face. “Me and Hunk have slapped sausages together more often than not and I'm not proposing to him anytime soon.”

“Slapped— What the fuck?”

“Bumped booties. Tickled the tails. Wiggled the wangs.”

Keith's mouth opens and closes. Lance kind of wants to put a video of a goldfish next to him, for comparison.

“Stop—”

“Stroked the snails,” Lance continues, chuckling to himself as Keith squirms in disgust.

“Snails?” Keith splutters. “How… What even… Snails?”

“Yeah, you know,” Lance grins, making a vague gesture with his hand. “They, like, go back in. Retreat into their shell when they're scared.”

Keith makes a choked sound, that sort of sounds like a laugh, so Lance counts that as a win.

“No,” Keith says, shaking his head. “Just. No. Stop it.”

“Fine, fine,” Lance relents, throwing up his hands. “I'll stop. Promise.”

Keith’s fighting back a smile, and Lance catches him mouthing something that suspiciously looks like ‘stroked the snails’ to himself.

“Anyways,” Keith says, running a hand through his hair. “Agh. You distracted me.”

“I did,” Lance agrees. “I’m very good at that.”

Keith shoots him a look, but the corners of his mouth are too soft for Lance to take it seriously and he waggles his eyebrows back at him.

“Anyways,” Keith repeats, sitting down on the side of the bed by Lance’s feet. “We can’t say anything now, after he’s seen us both awake together and not denying it. Thank you for that, by the way. Totally doesn’t mess up my job at the Blade.”

“Well, why didn't you say anything when Kolivan was here before then? He… sort of implied it then.” Lance huffs. “Or— Or any time when he was implying it, while I was asleep! Don’t blame this all on me.”

“I thought he was teasing me,” Keith grumbles. “Ugh. Fuck. We have to pretend to be kaeir.”

Lance tries to ignore how irritated Keith sounds, how annoyed he seems at the mere idea of being with him.

“I mean, would it really be so bad to be married to little ol’ me?” Lance tries to laugh off the hurt spreading through his chest. “I mean, we get tax benefits and everything.”

Keith glares at him, his hands balled into trembling fists by his sides.

“Do you even know what that means?” He flexes his hands momentarily. “It means we have to be side by side, all day every day that you're here, without breaks or rest or any alone time.”

“What?” Lance frowns. “Why?”

Honestly, it doesn't sound too bad. Lance would spend all of eternity with Keith if he could. But clearly, with the way his nose is screwed up to his brow, Keith did not feel the same.

“Because kaeir pairs can't be separated.” Keith exhales slowly. “Kaeir pairs are… mentally connected. They can sense when their other is in danger, and they can, vaguely, feel their other's emotions. But they need to stay close together to survive. The further away their other is, the harder it is to move.”

“What, like, you’re paralyzed if you’re too far apart?” Lance asks, trying to imagine what that would look like. How far was the limit? How did that work on missions? Did kaeir pairs in the Blade even go on missions? Were there special missions specifically for kaeir pairs?

“No, like—” Keith frowns. “You know seadragons? If you take them out of their little spot in the ocean, they die. Kaeir are like seadragons and their piece of kelp. You take one away from the other, the seadragon dies.”

“That’s morbid,” Lance says. “Where did that come from?”

Keith shrugs and doesn’t elaborate.

Okay. Lance can see how his overly dramatic entrance can be seen as a desperate act to get back to his piece of kelp. He did show up in an Altean pod, halfway unconscious, practically begging for Keith. That seems like something a desperate husband would do to him.

“So, what are we gonna do?” Lance asks, smoothing the sheets of the bed to soothe himself. “If we can’t tell them we’re not married, and you clearly don’t want to leave the Blade, so that’s not even an option, but if I left then they would know and you’d be kicked out.”

“I think I’d be kicked out,” Keith corrects. “I’d be deranked a lot, at least.”

“We assume you’ll be kicked out,” Lance corrects himself. “Okay. So? What’s the plan, team leader?”

Keith blinks at him, and then frowns.

“I’m not team leader anymore,” he says. “You’re the one who was with Voltron last, what’s your plan?”

Lance shrugs. “We fake it?”

“You can’t fake being kaeir,” Keith scoffs. “We’d have to act like kaeir, and— and scent each other, and—”

He pales, then turns red, and looks down at the ground.

“And what?” Lance prompts. “We’d have to do what?”

“Uh,” Keith chokes. “Bite. Doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s important, I think it probably—”

“Nope!” Keith says, slamming his hands down on his thighs. “Anyhow. Uh. We can avoid that for now. If we are gonna fake it, then, uh, scenting will probably be enough.”

“Fine, if I’m gonna tell you why I left Voltron, you gotta tell me what that thing you’re acting all suspicious avoiding telling me is,” Lance says, crossing his arms. “But, uh, what do you mean by scenting?”

Keith flushes a very dark pink.

“We, uh, we,” Keith starts, chewing on his lip. “We have to, um, you know. We have to scent each other.”

“But what does that even mean?” Lance asks, bewildered by the statement entirely. “I don’t want your sweaty pits rubbing all over my face, dude.”

“What even…” Keith groans and puts his face in his hands again. “No, not like that.”

“What, like…” Lance’s eyes drift down lower. “Uh.”

“Hm?” Keith follows Lance’s gaze, lower, lower, until— “Oh— No. What the hell? No!”

“I— I mean,” Lance stutters. “It’s got a natural musky scent! You know. Scent.”

“No! We’re not… rubbing our dicks on each other, Lance.” Keith’s blush reaches his ears, now, and is crawling up around the back of his neck. “We just have to rub the scent glands on our wrists and necks together!”

“Gee, Keith, you could’a lead with that,” Lance throws his hands out. This boy was going to be the death of him. “So, like cats then.”

“I guess so,” Keith slumps, his blush slowly dying back down. “Just less head butting and more neck rubbing.”

“Ha, neck rubbing,” Lance chuckles. “Alright. Sounds fine. Give me your best go, hotshot.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Keith repeats. “You and me. Neck rubbing. To lie about being in a relationship. Totally fine.”

“Yup,” Lance nods.

Keith shakes himself off, and stares at Lance from his perch on the edge of the mattress. He leans forward slightly, and then leans back again, narrowing his eyes as he glances between Lance's face and somewhere just below it.

The seconds tick by, and Keith's still staring at him. Lance doesn't even think that he's blinked.

“So?” Lance tilts his head. “Are we doing this or not, catboy?”

“Don’t call me that,” Keith says, but he shuffles backwards and rolls onto his hands and knees. “I was just building myself up to it. You just sit still, and, um, don’t move.”

“That’s the same thing,” Lance protests, but his confidence quickly dies down as Keith crawls forward and settles down in his lap.

Keigh’s thighs wrap around his waist and Lance can feel his warmth, spilling onto him like a tidal wave. He shivers and catches himself unconscious leaning closer.

Keith’s face is leaning in. Keith’s face is leaning in, only centimetres from his own, and Lance is kind of freaking out.

“Wait,” Lance says, pushing him backwards before he gets too close. “I don’t have scent glands. This isn’t going to work.”

Keith barks out a laugh and leans back.

“Yeah, I know that, you goober,” he smiles, shaking his head. “Did you only just remember that?”

Lance is getting fucking whiplash from being on the end of Keith’s scowl only to see him smile seconds later.

“...No,” Lance mumbles weakly, but even he doesn’t believe himself.

“It's fine,” Keith tells him, leaning in close again. “My scent will be enough, I think. And you do have your own, weak, Lance scent. It's just a bit watered down. You don't produce as much as we do.”

Lance bites down on his tongue so he doesn't make another joke about it.

“So, what now?” Lance asks. “Do we hold hands and sing the lord's name, or—”

Keith grabs Lance’s wrist, and slams his own against it.

Lance bites down on his tongue. Alright, not what he was expecting, that's for sure.

“So… that’s a yes,” Lance finishes, staring at Keith's forearm laid across his own. “We hold hands and smush ‘em together until we're all scented up.”

Keith frowns at him from beneath his thick bangs.

“No, this is just how Blades who are close with one another scent mark,” he says slowly, rubbing their wrists together gently. “It’s a friendly gesture. I'm just getting you used to the idea.”

“Oh,” Lance says. He rubs his wrist against Keith’s and his heart jumps in his chest as he feels Keith’s heartbeat thud against his veins. “This is just a friend thing?”

“Yeah,” Keith says as he pulls his wrist away. “Uh, and then next is the neck. Signifies a familiar bond.”

“Neck rubbing,” Lance nods knowingly. “Got it.”

“I shouldn’t have called it that,” Keith sighs, dropping his head to Lance's shoulder.

“Nope,” Lance says gleefully, popping the ‘p’. “Big mistake there, man.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees with a huff. “Okay, you and me, neck to neck. You alright?”

“Yup, I'm ready,” Lance announces. “Cover me in your pheromones, babe. Smother me.”

Keith inhales sharply and chokes on his spit.

“Don’t say it like that,” he mutters, leaning forward again.

Lance shrugs and exposes his neck more.

“Okay. Whatever.” Keith exhales slowly. “Well. Here goes nothing.”

Keith’s face inches closer, closer, and Lance’s eyes flutter shut. He can’t watch, not with how his heart is thundering in his chest. He rests his hands on Keith’s hips and tries to stop himself from shaking.

Nothing yet. Lance reminds himself to stay perfectly still. Keith knows what he’s doing, and he doesn’t need Lance interrupting him with some silly commentary or anything like that.

Something presses against his neck— Keith's neck— and Lance flinches, eyes flying open to see the nape of Keith's hair right next to his face.

“Oh,” Keith mumbles, so quietly that Lance is unsure if he's supposed to hear it. “You're so warm.”

Lance swallows and tilts his head to the side, pressing against the warm plane of skin. He was so soft, softer than he had ever imagined, and Lance felt like he was melting in his touch.

Keith gently grabs his chin and angles his face upward as he presses his neck down harder, rubbing their skin together lightly. It's far more intimate than Lance had anticipated, and he feels like he can't breathe.

Keith changes the hand that holds his chin and switches to the other side, pressing their skin together as Keith sighs in his ear. Lance's fingers grip Keith's shirt tightly and he shuts his eyes, obediently letting his head go pliant as Keith moves him around.

Keith's other hand slides up his back and rests just under the rise of his hair, gently cupping the back of his neck as he drags their skin together.

“Nnh,” Lance breathes out, and they both freeze, Keith's hand clenching down on Lance's jawline.

Lance's eyes dart to the back of Keith's head and he watches as his shoulders tense up more and more with each tick.

“Not awkward at all,” Lance mutters.

“Shut up, you're not helping,” Keith groans back. “Well, you smell like me now, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah?” Lance peels himself away from Keith’s skin. “You been emitting your pheromones all over me?”

“Well, yeah?” Keith says, furrowing his brow in confusion. “That was the whole point of that.”

“Yeah, I know, but, uh,” Lance’s gaze lowers for a second and finds Keith’s lips again, so plush and pink and kissable that he wants to bash his head against the wall. “Nevermind. So, we done?”

“Not yet,” Keith replies, averting his gaze. “There’s a place that’s reserved for only kaeir or kits to scent, so. We should probably do that too.”

“O-oh, okay,” Lance nods, mentally preparing himself for what will certainly be torture for his heart. “Uh, where's that?”

Keith reaches forward and taps the side of his face with his index finger. His cheek.

Lance shudders at the thought of Keith's face pressed against his, breath hot and heavy in his ear, faces on fire and burning into each other's skin.

“Cheek,” Keith says, after Lance remains quiet for too long. “Gotta scent your cheek.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Lance mutters. “You gonna do it or not?”

Keith's fingers dig into his chin again and tilt his head closer. Lance's heart skips a beat and he closes his eyes again. Is Keith actively trying to kill him?

His warm cheek brushes against his own, dragging slowly forward as his soft skin presses against his own, rubbing together softly. Lance hears Keith exhale in his ear, his breath tickling the skin just in front of it, warm and delicate.

He shivers and presses back, squeezing his eyes shut even more.

Keith hums and brings his head back, almost lazily trailing his nose against Lance's cheek.

“Relax,” Keith whispers, and he presses the other side of his face against Lance's, soft, warm skin against his own sensitive cheek.

Lance can't relax, though. He's trembling as Keith breathes against his ear, keeping him on edge as he nuzzles his cheek.

His eyelids flutter, and his hands slide up Keith’s back, both trembling. He needs more—

When Keith pulls away, Lance feels so dizzy that without Keith’s weight supporting him, he might fall backwards.

“You okay?” Keith asks, finally letting go of his jaw. “You look a bit pale.”

“Yeah,” Lance murmurs, “definitely okay.”

Keith tilts his head and Lance leans in—

A sharp stab of pain twists in his stomach and Lance hears a loud gurgle. He curls in on himself and buries his face in Keith’s chest as he waits for it to pass, mouth parted as he pants in pain.

“Shit,” Lance mumbles when it’s all finally over. “Uh. Oops.”

“So you’re not okay,” Keith concludes, shifting off of him until they’re sitting side by side.

“I think I’m hungry,” he says sheepishly, pulling the sheets over his lap guiltily. “Haven’t had solid food in a while, I’m guessing.”

“No,” Keith agrees. “That’s fine, we can go get food. It’s not like there’s anything else to do here.”

Lance pulls himself from the confines of his bed and feels a small piece of his heart break for Keith.

“Do you guys just eat, sleep, go on missions and then repeat?” He asks, shuffling to the side of the bed. “Is there seriously nothing else to do here?”

“Well,” Keith says, standing up and helping Lance to his feet, “there’s the training room. But that’s it, I think. Unless the higher ranks have some special privileges I’ve never heard of.”

“That’s… really sad,” Lance says, gripping onto Keith’s shoulder to steady himself as a wave of vertigo washes over him. “Are you even happy here?”

“Yeah, I’m happy,” Keith says, shrugging. “It’s simple. Easy routine to follow every day.”

“But aren’t you lonely here?” Lance prods deeper. “I dunno, don’t you ever want to come back home?”

Home. Where was their home? Was it Earth, still? With the beaches and the mountains and the thick jungles, with rain and sunshine. Was their home millions of lightyears away?

Or was it up in space? In the castleship, with the only other people that had been in the Blue Lion. With the only two survivors of a genocide from thousands of years ago?

“This is my home,” Keith tells him simply. “This is my home, now, Lance.”

Two years ago, Lance wouldn't have been able to imagine thinking of anything up in space as his home. But now, after everything they've gone through, it's nice to have a place to go back to, a bed to sleep in. The castleship can count as his home, for now, if that’s what it takes to get him back home, back to Cuba and his Mamá, back to his family.

But space had always been home for Keith, hadn't it? Lance remembers catching him on the rooftops of the Garrison after hours, gazing up at the stars with his headphones in. How his eyes had always been pointed to the sky, whenever he looked. Even overhearing Keith mentioning to Takashi Shirogane that nowhere on Earth felt like home, that he always felt all alone.

For Keith to find more than one home, out here in space, Lance is grateful. He deserves that much, after all he's been through.

“Yeah,” Lance agrees, and as much as he wants to scream at Keith in betrayal, because how could he find another home so soon after leaving, he leaves it at that.

“Ready to go?” Keith asks, holding out an arm for Lance to hold on to.

Lance bats it away and immediately grabs for it again as his dizziness increases.

“Yeah, I think so— Wait.” Lance leans close to him again, exposing his neck for Keith to smell. “Do I smell like you enough?”

Keith presses his nose to Lance’s neck and inhales deeply, tickling his skin just slightly. Lance tries not to squeak.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You smell like me.”

“Great,” Lance grins, steadying himself by clinging to Keith’s arm. “Then lead the way, samurai. I can’t wait to meet all your new best friends.”

“What new friends?” Keith asks, sounding genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

Lance just laughs and pats his back half-heartedly. Well, it's definitely him. Classic Keith, he thinks.

“Don't worry about it, dude,” he sighs. “Wait. Uh. There is food that I can actually eat here, right?”