bluemantics

[bluemantics]

Lance knows his sand is different than Keith’s sand. He looks across dunes and catches glimpses of a huddled teenager, a young man. All those years Lance had spent desperate to hate Keith, to be him, to love him. With a shaking voice he’d begged to inhabit the same space as his unreachable rival. Beyond the dunes, by his side, feet gliding in his desert. 

Now, he isn’t sure. He looks down at the stirring beach underneath his toes, the little shells that dot the coastline and collect around him, pulled and left by gentle waves. There are footprints around Lance, pieces of driftwood and rounded pebbles of sea glass. Lance is surrounded by color and memories tucked within each detail.

Each time he’d gotten close to Keith, he’d seen a difference in their roots. Keith’s sand was coarser, barren and infinite. It held a distinct lack of footprints. There were no pieces of wood or glass to break the dryness, to conceal the vast empty. Wind swept the desert into misshapen piles, chaotic and uncontrolled, pushing Keith along with it.

With no landmarks, Keith wandered.

Every realization about their different worlds only broke and rewrote Lance’s perceptions. How desperately had he wanted to be Keith, when this was what it meant? How tired must Keith be? How foolish was Lance, to think Keith would ever slow his wandering, find peace in the shore when he could find reward in the hidden tunnels of desert tombs? 

But Lance could not follow him there, in that empty. The promise of reward was so little, the price too heavy, the desert too infinite. He had tried. And tried. And tried. Lance’s calves ached. Sand lined his throat. After all his attempts, he was weak, unable to abandon the shore and look for the impossible. So he drew back, retreated to the ocean. He dug his toes in the coastline right where the water met the sea. 

If Keith wanted to, he would follow Lance to fresh, salty air. He’d dig his feet in right beside Lance’s and admire the horizon: equally infinite, promising the sunrise.

Instead, he wanders, and he doesn’t look back.

[bluemantics]

Lance knows his sand is different than Keith’s sand. He looks across dunes and catches glimpses of a huddled teenager, a young man. All those years Lance had spent desperate to hate Keith, to be him, to love him. With a shaking voice he’d begged to inhabit the same space as his unreachable rival. Beyond the dunes, by his side, feet gliding in his desert. 

Now, he isn’t sure. He looks down at the stirring beach underneath his toes, the little shells that dot the coastline and collect around him, pulled and left by gentle waves. There are footprints around Lance, pieces of driftwood and rounded pebbles of sea glass. Lance is surrounded by color and memories tucked within each detail.

Each time he’d gotten close to Keith, he’d seen a difference in their roots. Keith’s sand was coarser, barren and infinite. It held a distinct lack of footprints. There were no pieces of wood or glass to break the dryness, to conceal the vast empty. Wind swept the desert into misshapen piles, chaotic and uncontrolled, pushing Keith along with it.

With no landmarks, Keith wandered.

Every realization about their different worlds only broke and rewrote Lance’s perceptions. How desperately had he wanted to be Keith, when this was what it meant? How tired must Keith be? How foolish was Lance, to think Keith would ever slow his wandering, find peace in the shore when he could find reward in the hidden tunnels of desert tombs? 

But Lance could not follow him there, in that empty. The promise of reward was so little, the price too heavy, the desert too infinite. He had tried. And tried. And tried. Lance’s calves ached. Sand lined his throat. After all his attempts, he was weak, unable to abandon the shore and look for the impossible. So he drew back, retreated to the ocean. He dug his toes in the coastline right where the water met the sea. 

If Keith wanted to, he would follow Lance to fresh, salty air. He’d dig his feet in right beside Lance’s and admire the horizon: equally infinite, promising the sunrise.

Instead, he wanders, and he doesn’t look back.

[bluemantics]

Flashing lights. Dark, endless sky. A gentle hum from the motor. Lance adjusted his grip on the wheel, getting comfortable in the seat of his car.

Outside his blue Corvette (fondly nicknamed Baby Blue), the air was crisp, cool, and charged. Everything hung in a pause as racers lined up their vehicles at the starting line, slowly rolling up one by one. Tonight was the night they’d all been waiting for: the Altea City Underground Cup, the biggest prize of the year. With money from placing, Lance could quit his horrible day job.

Most of the racers were sponsored by rich Alteans desperate for adrenaline but too scared of scraping a knee. Lance’s sponsor, Rollo, was a young guy who’d inherited millions after the untimely death of his father. However, the guy didn’t seem too concerned with mourning. High off his ass, Rollo promised him 10% of his bet winnings after each race as well as lending him a car. In return, Lance delivered top placements and helped him feel the thrill of winning without the danger of racing.

His work with Rollo was a solid arrangement. Especially since, unlike the rich assholes, Lance lived for what he called the Thrum. It was the feeling he got when hurtling down the track, heart lifting to his throat, tension and power coiling all around him as he danced between the lines of death and life. 

Was it legal? Not exactly. But it paid. And tonight, it would pay well. Lance had raced his competitors tens of times before. 

He knew the green, zippy car belonged to Pigeon, who often pulled out sneaky tricks on her ride. The sleek, grey one was Lotor’s, one of the few wealthy people who actually stuck out his neck alongside his car. His tactics were dirty and brutal, but they weren’t impossible to deal with, and Lance had beaten him before. Furthest from Lance was an orange, low-to-the-ground car, containing Griffin, a piece of shit that rarely won.

Overall, Lance’s odds were good. He could win this. Trying to prepare himself for the starting whistle, he pulled on his helmet and let his fingers tighten around the wheel once more. 

Suddenly, a movement to his left drew his attention. Shit. Pulling up alongside Lance was one, final car, a cherry red Ferrari. It was gorgeous under the pale track lights, reflecting Lance’s car so clearly in its doors, sleek and built for speed. Through the sound of Baby Blue, Lance could hear its engine emitting a gentle purr. Lance licked his lips. He didn’t know this car. 

Lance rolled down his window and leaned an arm out, gesturing for the helmeted man to do the same. The stranger, surprisingly, did roll down his window. 

“What do you want?” Lance shivered at his voice. It was a blend of gravelly and low, matching his edgy black and red leather image. His face was obscured by his helmet, but Lance could see wisps of black hair curling out from the bottom.

“Who’s your sponsor?” Lance called back. 

“Why do you care?” God, this questions game was getting old. 

“I just want to know who I’m racing, man.” Lance tried to peer through the helmet and see the shadowed eyes lurking behind it. 

“Call me Red,” was the stranger’s short reply. “Sponsored by Marmora.” Lance immediately sat up, indignantly bristling.

“You’re coming after my brand!” he accused. Red looked slowly at Lance’s car, then turned back to see Lance where he was still leaning out of the driver’s side. 

“Let me guess… you’re called Blue.” 

“I am!” Lance seethed. “Look, hotshot, I don’t care why you decided to only show up on the most important racing day, or how you qualified for it in the first place. All you need to know is I’m going to kick your ass, no matter how sexy your car is.” 

“Sexy, huh?” Red sounded amused, now, which only furthered Lance’s annoyance.

“It’ll look even sexier in the rearview,” Lance snapped. 

“We’ll see on the track.” Without so much as a pause, Red rolled up his window, causing Lance to sputter. He threw up a middle finger that Red pretended not to see and rolled up his own window. 

“Racers!” A voice boomed over the speakers surrounding the start. “Ready at the start!”

Lance whipped his head forward and locked his gaze on the track. It was all laid out just for him, asphalt flat and begging to be driven on. In just a few laps, he’d be the winner of the Cup. He’d get to take home the winnings, change his life. He wouldn’t let some new guy ruin his chances. 

“On your mark.” 

Pulsing echoed in his eardrums, silence settling over the scene. 

“Get set.” 

He shuffled his shoulders, sucked in a breath. His foot pressed into the accelerator. 

“Go!” 

A violent roar thundered in his ears as he pumped down and shot off. Lance pressed back into his seat as he pulled away from the line, lightning crackling in his veins, heat crawling up his arms. For a second, he was weightless, flying above everything and looking down. Pigeon was long in his dust, locked in an early battle with Griffin. Lotor was crawling after his heels. Beautiful.

But then, the universe answered his glee. 

A red Ferrari climbed up even with him. Lance, known to never break focus, found himself looking sideways into the window. He was furious. No one had ever beaten Lance off the start, even if he was passed later. The start was his domain. 

Red cocked his head, as if taunting him, and threw Lance a two-fingered salute. 

Then, he pulled ahead. 

Fury consumed Lance entirely as he saw the bright car’s taillights shining in front of his eyes. This was meant to be his race, his chance to prove himself to the betters and take home enough cash for a safer life. Red was going to ruin things. 

However, alongside the fury was an unusual thrill. No one had challenged him so blatantly, so openly. It made goosebumps rise on his skin as he pressed further on the pedal, hands alternating over one another as he skidded through a tight turn. 

Maybe this will be fun.

[bluemantics]

I LOVE UR STUFF SOSO MUCH

thank you so much!

[bluemantics]

Oh my goodness I am in love with your new fic!!!! Lance’s pining and both of their obliviousness is actually going to kill me! (In the absolute best way!) I can’t wait for the next chapter!!

thank you so so much! i love to mix in a little obliviousness for the comedy of it all, it's so funny to me when they both refuse to acknowledge the obvious and fail to notice random little pieces of evidence.

i will disclose JUST FOR YOU that I immediately dove into writing chapter 2 and lets just say it is equally ridiculous :D

[bluemantics]

finally sitting down to reply to comments :-D genuinely so thankful for everyone who left kudos and encouragement! they are the food that sustains me

thank you guys so much for all the love on walk with me!!! i see your comments and i adore them 😭🩷 i’ll reply later today!

yall are the sweetest 🥹

[bluemantics]

Walk With Me

8k+, klance, postcanon

Lance McClain is content at home-- really, he is-- but when Keith shows up at his door, begging for help, he can't say no.

"They want to turn a property of mine into a museum, for some reason," Keith said.

“Which property?” Lance asked. He held his hand to shield against the bright sky as he looked up to Keith.

“The desert shack."

Now, Lance is on the universe's most exclusive weekend trip, forced to help Keith go through a musty pile of memories. Fabulous.

Here are the facts: 1. Keith is still the most smart-yet-stupid motherfucker Lance has ever met 2. Shiro and Curtis are disgustingly adorable 3. A twin bed is far too small for a grown man, and 4. He should have fallen out of love with Keith when he had the chance.

[bluemantics]

thank you guys so much for all the love on walk with me!!! i see your comments and i adore them 😭🩷 i’ll reply later today!

yall are the sweetest 🥹

[bluemantics]

Walk With Me

8k+, klance, postcanon

Lance McClain is content at home-- really, he is-- but when Keith shows up at his door, begging for help, he can't say no.

"They want to turn a property of mine into a museum, for some reason," Keith said.

“Which property?” Lance asked. He held his hand to shield against the bright sky as he looked up to Keith.

“The desert shack."

Now, Lance is on the universe's most exclusive weekend trip, forced to help Keith go through a musty pile of memories. Fabulous.

Here are the facts: 1. Keith is still the most smart-yet-stupid motherfucker Lance has ever met 2. Shiro and Curtis are disgustingly adorable 3. A twin bed is far too small for a grown man, and 4. He should have fallen out of love with Keith when he had the chance.

[bluemantics]

OUT TONIGHT @ 10 PM EASTERN!

happy wip wednesday! today i am FINALLY revealing the name of my postcanon klance fic:

walk with me (releasing on March 22nd)

Lance McClain is content at home-- really, he is-- but when Keith shows up at his door, begging for help, he can't say no.

"They want to turn a property of mine into a museum, for some reason," Keith said.

“Which property?” Lance asked. He held his hand to shield against the bright sky as he looked up to Keith. 

“The desert shack."

Now, Lance is on the universe's most exclusive weekend trip, forced to help Keith go through a musty pile of memories. Fabulous.

Here are the facts:

Keith is still the most smart-yet-stupid motherfucker Lance has ever met

Shiro and Curtis are disgustingly adorable

A twin bed is far too small for a grown man, and

He should have fallen out of love with Keith when he had the chance.

A story of: running away from your past vs. being stuck in your past. missing the chase. wishing for time to slow down. confronting what's been long-buried. finally voicing the unspoken. pushing and pulling. a new meaning to a desert sunrise. a love that challenges you to grow.

[bluemantics]

It’s everyone’s second favorite day of the week (behind Taco Tuesday): WIP WEDNESDAY!

For those who don’t know, Walk With Me is a postcanon klance fanfiction and comes out March 22nd.

This is the last WIP Wednesday before Walk With Me comes out Saturday!!! Pls enjoy the below snippet for your patience.

On a mission to fix shurtis 🧘‍♀️

[bluemantics]

Tension rippled in the air as Lance stared at Keith in the flower field on his family farm. He clutched the juniberry flower he’d picked tightly, the sun beating down on the both of them as silence persisted. It was the first sunny day of the entire week.

Keith’s expression was contorted into one of sympathy, which stirred dormant fear and resentment inside of Lance all at once. His long black ponytail barely lifted with a slight breeze as he opened his mouth.

“Lance… that’s, well,” Keith started, jaw open and closing like he didn’t know how to respond. “I’m honored, really. I mean, you’re one of my best friends. You’re my best friend.”

Lance’s heart cracked. He stopped breathing. He waited, disbelieving, sure that he hadn’t been wrong.

“But I thought that you liked me,” he weakly protested, his voice thin. “All those years we spent, I was sure that I remembered something there. I was too blind to see it then! I wasn’t ready.” Keith’s answering smile was both delicate and nostalgic.

“I did like you then,” he agreed. “In all that time it took you to realize, though, I was trying to move on. Lance, you saw so much of what mattered, and that wasn’t me at the time. It’s okay. I just need you to let me go now.”

“No. This can’t be it. We were supposed to go out together, I know it. You know it too. We’re two halves, man, and we aren’t going to be the same alone. Please don’t punish me for not seeing it sooner, okay? I was so young. We all were.”

Keith turned away. “Thanks for inviting me to the farm Lance. This week was relaxing, it was fun, but I don’t think I should stay much longer.” He started to walk to the barn where his ship was hidden.

“Fine, Kogane, run away again,” Lance hissed at his retreating back. He reeled back as if he'd been slapped. “We’ll just end up here again and again. I can’t be late every time.”

Keith shrugged as he pushed open the door. “A broken clock is right twice a day, I guess.”

Lance scoffed. "I'm not broken."

"Do you know that?"

The barn door thudded shut.

[bluemantics]

Lance McClain is a good kid. Really, he is! His mom always told him that he was a good person with a kind heart, and that was the end of the story.

Being expelled from six schools in six years was just… well, a casualty of circumstances. Now, though, he was really going to try with The Galaxy Garrison Private Academy, even if they took boring field trips to look at Greek art from three millennia ago.

The halls of the museum echoed with footsteps and murmuring around Lance, light streaming in and highlighting old marble artworks. He frowned up at a carving of a furry humanoid with big ears. It looked more like a cat person than a monster, but he dutifully marked it down on his scavenger hunt paper.

Suddenly, he felt something hit the back of his head, followed by giggles from somewhere behind him. He turned around to see a little paper airplane, which made him annoyed and thankful all at once. Annoyed, because who the hell was throwing stuff at him, but thankful that it wasn’t a real airplane. Yee-owch. Lance had just heard a news broadcast that day about a freak plane accident somewhere off the coast of New York. He briefly recalled mentions of a thunderstorm.

Anyways, in typical Lance fashion, he found out that the paper plane belonged to Nancy Bobofit and proceeded to flay her (verbally of course. It’s not like he’s some sort of crazy weapon-toting sixth grader).

After five minutes of arguing over whose curls were greasier, Hunk finally found Lance and dragged him away.

“You gotta stop doing that, dude,” Hunk bemoaned. “You’re going to get expelled again. Or get both of us kicked out.” A pang went through Lance at that— he didn’t want to risk hurting his mom, Maria, and getting another expulsion would at least disappoint her. She was an angel on Earth who deserved better than another stressful phone call.

With a reluctant sigh, Lance continued their scavenger hunt with his best buddy Hunk at his side.

The rest of the day? Chaos.

Lance didn’t know what happened. One second, Nancy was picking on Hunk at lunchtime. The next, she was facedown in a water fountain, even though Lance could have sworn he didn’t touch a greasy curl on her stupid head.

His math teacher, Mr. Iverson, brought him aside to the museum rooms for a lecture before promptly turning into a fucking bat lady. He then started attacking Lance, which was irresponsible for an educator in his humble opinion. If it hadn’t been for a beautiful girl with white hair, Lance would probably have died. She appeared out of nowhere and threw him a pen as he scrambled behind columns to avoid Iverson's talons.

Lance snatched the pen out of the air with reflexes that surprised him.

"Are you crazy?" he yelled at the girl, pointing to the pen.

"Open the pen!" she yelled back.

Well, fuck it. He uncapped the pen and watched in shock as it morphed into a sword.

Lance wouldn’t have put slaying a bat lady on his bucket list for a field trip. This time, it isn't his fault when the school calls home and expels him. Guilt claws its way up his throat despite his "innocence." When he and Hunk make their way back into New York City, he loses Hunk somewhere along the route, too ashamed and frustrated with himself to share in it with his best friend.

His mother instantly envelopes Lance in a hug he doesn't deserve. Lance lets all his weight fall into her comforting arms.

"Oh, sweetie," she murmurs. "It's gonna be okay."

Maria packs their things soon after comforting him and wiping his tears. She tells him that they're going to Montauk, sneaking out before Lance's horrible stepfather gets home from work. They take his car, so he makes sure to kick his feet up from the dash and ignore his mother's clucks of disapproval.

When they get to their little beach cottage, instant relief crashes over Lance. He's always loved the ocean: the calm of the surf crashing relentlessly, the smell of salt dancing among swift winds, the feeling of sand beneath his feet. It always melts away his worries and fears, and he knows it does for his mom, too. Her eyes always soften as she stares into the distant horizon.

After they get back to their cottage, Lance finds out why. His mom seats him at the breakfast nook and grabs his hands in hers, her thumb making circles across his knuckles.

"Hijo, I have something to explain. It's important, so listen closely."

So Lance listens. He just hadn’t expected that his mom would reveal the existence of the gods. And that he was a demigod. And that his life was in danger. Oh, did he forget to mention that “best buddy Hunk” was also half-goat?

Yeah, his mom didn't tell him that. Hunk did, appearing in the beach house doorway with wild eyes and urgency and goat legs. His best friend demanded that they leave in a shaky voice, pointing to some unknown force that was after Lance.

Fuck everything, honestly. He might only be 12, but this was a situation that called for some adult language.

The remainder of the night happened so fast, it was almost like some sort of sick nightmare. Lance remembered piling into his stepdad’s car in the pouring rain, running into the fucking Minotaur, and being told by his mom to escape to some camp.

He also remembered… the rain soaking his clothes, dragging him down as his mother stood up to protect him. Lance was forced to watch, a beat too late, as the Minotaur gripped his mother and crushed her in his fist, her silhouette disappearing into a shimmer of golden light. Is she... Anger surged through Lance, propelling him forward to grab the Minotaur’s horn in his hands and stab it in the head.

Everything in his head went silent. The pain dulled, light blacked out, and cold washed away.

And then… he was in bed, blinking awake to see dark eyes hovering over him with a scowl on their owner.

“You drool when you sleep.”

Lance was too delirious to say anything clever.

“You have a mullet.”

The rest was history.

[bluemantics]

#HUNK: good morning, want some eggs?

#SHIRO: hfhfjfjfkkgkkll

#KEITH: hold on, he’s faulty in the morning. *THUMPS SHIROS BACK*

#SHIRO, sitting up and blinking: eggs would be awesome. Thanks, Hunk!

#HUNK, wide eyed, vaguely concerned: no problem…!

[bluemantics]

whats one self indulgent thing (characters, subplots, ships, deaths, arcs, traits, magic, etc) you wish happened/was included in VLD?

A lot of people have said this before but MORE FILLER EPISODES. We really only got to see our characters through the lens of problem—> solution and it would have been so much fun to have an ATLA-style comedic episode where they engage in fun shenanigans. Show us silly planets with wacky customs! Show us a fun montage of Keith struggling to relax! The comedy of the show could have been sooooo much more.

[bluemantics]

Pidge will find her family. There is no question about it. If Matt and Sam Holt are alive, then there is no corner of the universe, no offline or off-grid sector that can be hidden from her sharp eyes. She hates gut feelings and prefers to deal in logical, straightforward facts, but for them, she'll rely on the fickle natures of hope and belief.

To save them, she has to survive. Physically, it's easier for her than it might be for the others. She's not a front-line bruiser like Keith or a self-sacrificial idiot like Lance. Pidge is sneakier, blends in, hides and dodges and ducks. Additionally, as the smallest member of the team, the others tend to protect her a lot. No matter how often Pidge tells them to stop prioritizing her, they do. So, fine. She'll physically survive this.

Mental survival is another story. War is new to Pidge. As Katie, she'd only ever seen stories in books or from her father's recollections. Never firsthand. Hell, she'd never even witnessed an act of violence. Now, hurtling through the strange reaches of space, Pidge realizes how truly ignorant Katie had been.

At age 15, she lands a sharp stab from close up and is forced to watch as a cut bleeds slowly onto metal floors. A month later, she holds a mother as her eyes dim, Pidge's screams tearing up her own throat. Even later, she slices through a throat and freezes to the spot as a body thuds to the floor in front of her where a living being stood moments ago.

Pidge knows she's young, but she's fucking smart, so she decides to treat all this suffering and pain as data rather than letting her whole system fail. Who caused it? Where does it hurt? How can I compartmentalize, which box can I sort this into? It's all lines and columns in her mind, information to be dealt with later. She catalogs their shrieks somewhere buried deep within her, prays the files don't resurface at an inconvenient time.

They do, anyway. A video will play in her mind at night, forcing her awake with shaky, quick breathing and white-knuckled fists. Audio will remind her of dying words, of a soldier's final cry of vrepit sa as they sink to their knees. Counters click upward at a near-constant rate in the background. How many died today? How many Galra, how many innocent?

That's the thing about data: it is never complete and will always resurface.

And when Allura hugs her after a particularly challenging and devastating battle, something in Pidge snaps. She's horrified and helpless as her internal wiring misfires and her systems fall apart. A sob wracks her body, then another.

She was not made for this war. Pidge was made for pranking her brother and research and invention. She is creation, longing for novelty, seeking the endless expanses of knowledge to the ends of the universe. Instead, she has discovered finality. Pidge has found how easily an end can come and has become the tool to bring about these ends. It is the worst thing she can possibly imagine, and she hates it.

Allura holds her. Her marks glow. Leading a group of unwilling, inexperienced fighters can't be easy on her, either. But Pidge finds solace in their shared losses. As they embrace, Pidge grips her back.

"This is not all we are," Allura murmurs.

"Feels like it sometimes," Pidge responds thickly.

"I know." Allura pulls her closer and brings her head to her shoulder. Pidge, too tired to argue, closes her eyes. She'd like not to take in anything new, if just for a moment.

[bluemantics]

Nothing new tonight just this old beachy ficlet <3 loosely connected to the plot of my old (abandoned) letter writing fic

Keith inhaled quietly as he took in the smells and sights of the beach. He’d landed just an hour ago, and had spent the time since then covering himself in sunscreen and changing into beach gear. He wasn’t so much of a fan of the beach, but that wasn’t why he was there. Today, he’d promised Lance to meet him on this beach planet. All of the tasks from the Blade he was skipping sort of replayed in his mind in the background. He couldn’t shut it down, couldn’t stem the flow of anxiety that came with taking a “break.”

But.

Lance wanted this. Keith hadn’t seen him truly joyful since the end of the war, and maybe he was a softy, a sucker, or weak. He just knew he’d do anything to see Lance smile again.

“Keith!” Keith jolted up as if the sand burned his bare feet. Lance was running to him, steps clumsy and large (probably due to his legs, which were illegally long in Keith’s opinion).

Keith smiled, turning to face him.

“Hey—“ he froze. Lance. Wasn’t. Stopping. Oh, shit. With all of the Grace Lance McClain possessed— approximately none— he crashed directly into Keith’s chest and wrapped his arms around his waist.

They promptly toppled into the sand. Keith winced, already feeling a bruise in his hip, the sun from above now directly in his eyes.

“Keith, you made it.” Holy fucking shit, if that didn’t make Keith pause and suck in a breath as he reassessed their position. Because now Lance was directly over him, arms on either side of Keith’s head, blue eyes directly meeting his own. Keith shuddered as a wave lapped at their tangled legs.

“Of course I did,” Keith said, hating the warmth that was obvious in his voice. “I promised, didn’t I?” He ignored the flush rising to his face.

Lance laughed, rolling off of him and flopping directly on the line where ocean met shore. Keith felt himself breathe again.

“That you did, Samurai,” Lance agreed, lazily watching Keith sit up on his hands. Keith noticed the water spiraling up to Lance’s ears, but also… huh.

“Is your hair… curly?” Keith asked sharply. Lance turned his head away in embarrassment.

“Uh, yeah.” Lance worried at his bottom lip. Keith actively did not notice. “It’s always been pretty curly. I just didn’t have the products to take care of it in space. I’ve been using them more, lately, and the salt water also makes it a lot more noticeable. Why, is it bad?” Lance reached up a hand to touch the place where Keith’s hand was reaching out to a loose strand, and Keith yanked his hand away, because he hadn’t realized his hand was in Lance’s hair.

“No, no,” Keith mumbled, the heat getting to him. “It’s good. Nice. More you, if that makes sense.”

Lance covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, yeah, it does. You’re killing me, Kogane. What’s gonna happen when I get sun freckles?! Gonna poke those?!”

“Maybe,” Keith admitted. Lance squawked.

“Fuck off, that’s a stupid joke, you have no sense of humor,” Lance replied with an awkward grin. Keith tried to reflect it.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Pretty stupid.”