#bluemanfics

[bluemantics]

A sharp clang sounded in the lions’ bay as Keith’s helmet hit the floor. The blue lion stood unmoving before him, her eyes dull.

Keith burned.

“Open up,” he ordered. Unlike that first time, when he’d tried to reach her in that lonely desert cave, Blue lowered her head and opened her metallic maw. Keith stepped forward into the cockpit, expression unwavering.

Over and over, that flash of light striking Blue repeated in his mind, like some sick personal horror show. Over and over, step by step. Finally, he reached the front, where a chair faced glowing blue controls.

“…hey,” a voice weakly greeted. Keith felt something in him snap.

“Hey?” he demanded, storming around the chair to face Lance. “Is that really how you choose to greet me after you almost fucking died, Lance?” Something in his heart tugged at the sight in front of him. Lance looked disheveled and exhausted, his eyes duller than normal.

“I did what I had to do for the team,” Lance replied quietly.

The blue lion, streaking in front of the cannon, protecting the castle ship. Lance’s “here we go,” followed by Hunk’s desperate cry. Then, silence.

“For the team,” Keith repeated lowly. Lance nodded.

“Fuck that. What about me?“ Keith demanded, one leg kneeling down in front of Lance’s chair to look him in the eye. “That— that was insane. Do you know what that shit would have done to me?”

Lance’s eye twitched. “Enlighten me, Kogane.”

“Fucking— I don’t know what I would have done.” Keith surprised himself with the raw honesty in his own voice, cheeks burning. “But it wouldn’t have been helping the team.”

“Elaborate,” Lance snapped, eyes zeroing on Keith’s.

“Lance, I don’t think I can do this whole save-the-universe gig if you die, because then I’d be the one destroying it.”

Silence hung between them. Keith, still knelt on one knee just below Lance, who’s lips were now parted in surprise.

“I’ll just—“

Before Keith could continue, Lance grabbed his face and leaned down to kiss him. Keith froze in surprise, but quickly joined his rhythm, eyes closing.

It was slow, deep, something different.

When they finally parted for air, Lance gasped, “Looks like you’ll be needing to stay alive too, then.”

Keith just huffed out a breath and pulled him down for another kiss.

[masives-blog]

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[bluemantics]

Lance breathed in a ragged breath.

In, out.

The soot fogged up his helmet, choking him up, but he still pushed onward. Step after step after step. In, out. His breathing was labored. His armor was dirtied. His limbs ached.

“Keith?” Pidge’s voice rang out over the comms.

Keith had come after Lance when the Galra had made the threat, when Lance dove down into that waste of a planet. At first, he’d been held back by Shiro. Keith was somewhere on this planet now, but Lance couldn’t focus on him. He had other priorities. Keith would be fine.

In, out.

Lance focused on his breathing instead, tuned out the outside sounds of the paladins calling for Keith and him. With each struggling step, his bayard illuminating the way, he dragged himself over to the cave home.

It’s curtains were drawn, and no light came from within. The only sign of life were the heat signatures his helmet picked up.

Fuck, the air was rough.

“Lance, your helmet is broken,“ Allura started.

Lance shut off the comms. Anything distracting him was preventing him from reaching /them./ He pushed his way through the curtain entrance.

There she was.

Huddling under a table in the corner was a small girl, a blue-scaled dragonling humanoid with bright red eyes. She was trembling. Lance got down on his hands and knees, crawling over to her.

In, out. His throat hurt.

“Hey,” he said softly, a rasp tickling his words. “I’m a Paladin of Voltron. I’m here to save you from the fires.”

The alien girl croaked out a whimper. She clearly didn’t recognize him, but her planet was a member of the coalition… fuck. Lance knew what he had to do.

He removed his helmet.

“See?” Her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Loverboy!” she exclaimed. Lance winced at his stage name, laughing outwardly to reassure her.

“That’s right, and I’m here to save you,” he agreed, reaching his arms out to her. Without the meager protection of his helmet, he was really starting to feel woozy. Still, that didn’t matter.

With shaking hands, he picked her up and began to walk outside the cave home and back to Blue.

This time, though, the trek was worse. He couldn’t see as well without his helmet, couldn’t recognize heat signatures or the fastest path back. Instead, he relied on lighting up his footsteps and retracing his steps.

That didn’t last long.

After 20 steps, Lance began to feel dizzy. He lurched, which caused the girl to make a series of clicks.

In, out. He patted her back and continued on.

After 50 steps, Lance started to lose the edges of his vision to blackness. He could feel the mucus in his throat fighting his inhalations. He fought back harder. He would have to reach a level of survival that went beyond what he could handle. To save her.

In, out.

Finally.

120 steps.

Lance fell to his knees.

The girl screamed.

Lance was only a football field from Blue. He had failed.

The girl scrabbled her claws at his armor, wailing, her cries embellished by the distant sound of crackling fire. Lance closed his eyes, listening to her pain, letting it soak in. He’d failed her, and this was his punishment, to lie prone and to hear her suffer. He had failed.

In, out.

He felt a tug to some hidden darkness inside of him.

“Lance!”

Oh, that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Lance felt more than heard the pounding footsteps of Keith Kogane as he ran to his side, kneeling by Lance’s head and cradling it in his hands.

“Stay awake, Lance, I have an O2 mask and we can get the girl to safety—“

“Loverboy!” The girl insisted.

Keith’s head snapped up. Lance chuckled weakly, coughing at the end.

“What?” Keith asked.

“She knows… shows,” he muttered in response. Keith huffed a breath, fogging up his helmet.

“Oh.”

Lance coughed again, and Keith panicked, pulling a mask from his belt. “Stay awake.”

“Loverboy,” the girl insisted again, tugging on Keith’s shoulder.

Lance blinked slowly. The world was slow. Why was the ash now falling on his face in slow motion? Why was Keith putting the mask on so slowly?

In, out.

Lance blinked. The darkness came back. He closed his eyes.

“No, Lance, no.”

Lance wasn’t listening. It was more peaceful, here, to focus inwardly rather than on the voices out there. It was quiet and dark and cool. The fires couldn’t touch him here.

“Loverboy? Stay with me, please. Please.” The rawness in his voice made Lance’s eyes snap open.

“Keith? I’m really trying…”

Words were too difficult, though.

So Lance let his heavy eyelids fall, let the blackness rush in. He felt the mask press into his chin and nose.

“I know, Lance.”

Silence again.

In,

[bluemantics]

When Maria McClain first holds Lance in her arms, she feels a resurgence of overwhelming affection consume her. It’s nothing new to Maria. She’s had many other children— four— and now, cradling Lance, she knows she is capable. She knows she can handle being his mother, and just how lucky she is. With tears brimming in her eyes, she places a kiss to his forehead.

“You are going to be so, so good,” she whispers. Lance, still and sleeping, remains unaware of her words.

Maria realizes: here is her heart, living outside of her body. She prays.

Later, when Lance is six and starting school, Maria worries. He’s an unusual boy. He likes to spend endless time at the beach and marveling over the stars, but it has taken longer for him to learn things such as speaking. She hopes desperately that he won’t struggle in school and be made fun of, but knows she can’t control that.

“Mama!” a shrill voice calls from the door. Maria places the last Tupperware of rice in his lunch box and heads over to where Lance is standing, hand eagerly twisting the doorknob back and forth.

“Have a good day in school, Lancito.” She plants a kiss on his forehead as she shoves his lunch box in his backpack. “Make sure you stay close to Rachel and walk with her, you don’t want to get lost.”

“I will, I will,” Lance huffs. Finally, Maria opens the door, and Lance bursts out to run over where Rachel and Veronica stand with neighborhood friends. As Maria waves him off, she presses a hand over her chest, soothing the knot left behind by his absence.

She looks around an empty house, all the pieces of her heart out in the world. Maria sighs, closing the door and turning to get her gardening tools.

Lance is 13 when he first discovers the Galaxy Garrison. He is not the best student, prone to distraction by the smallest things, but he becomes determined in a way Maria hasn’t seen from him yet.

However, Maria also does research on this program. She finds out it is a military program and that her son will be enlisted to fight on the battlefield.

She begins to worry again, that familiar ache in her heart. Maria walks to Lance’s door and knocks gently. “Lance?”

“Come in!” Maria walks in to find him taping up a poster to his wall. He shares the room with Luis, who isn’t there, the only sign of him a collection of superhero memorabilia on the right side of the room.

Lance’s side had glowing star decals, an empty fish tank, and a big collection of fantasy books.

Now, above Lance’s bed, there is a poster of a commanding officer from the Galaxy Garrison. Lance catches her staring and turns bright red.

“He’s so cool, Mama!” Lance explains. “And he is gonna go to space, just like I want to. I might even get to meet him if I go.” Maria chuckles softly.

“You’re working very hard to get in,” she reassures him, going to place a hand on her shoulder. “Stubborn boy as you are.” He snorts at her teasing and ducks away from her ruffling his hair.

“I’m gonna do it. I know it.” Lance looks up at the poster with wide, open eyes, and Maria can’t help but notice how small he is in comparison to this looming figure in a space suit. “I’m going to be a hero.”

Maria has heard many stories of heroes. She has read them, has met them, has lost them. She recalls her brother, lost to war.

She placed a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder, sitting down next to him on his bed.

“I will never stop you from becoming who you want to be, mi corazón,” she tells him seriously. He looks deeply into her eyes, eyes they share, deep brown and curious. “But you must promise me, if you go here, you will keep my heart safe. Heroes do not remain heroes in life very often.” She presses her remaining hand from her heart to his, an invisible connection.

“Do you understand?”

“Of course, Mama.”

He does not understand. He is only 13, young and with no obligations, but speaking the words aloud brings a comfort to her. So she smiles, and when Lance gets into the program months later, they celebrate with a going away party.

Then—

Then.

Lance is 17 when she receives a call. She does not remember much of that day. Brief snatches, at most.

Falling to her knees in the kitchen, the phone breaking as it landed beside her.

Her hands coming up to her heart, her shoulders trembling. Maria’s husband rushed in, going down to hold her, trying to understand why she was—

A pause. Silence rang in her ears like a bell tolling.

She tilted her head back and screamed. The sound was broken. It was pain incarnate.

Her son, her heart.

How could she ever stand again?

The years begin to pass by in a blur. She has other children to take care of. They don’t miss the hollowness that lingers in her eyes, the way she ages but her eyes continue to linger on an empty doorway. She busies herself with her garden.

She plants a lamprocapnos and she tends to it with care.

She tries not to linger on regret, her husband reassuring her that she did everything right, that she is a good mother and wife. In their grief, they cling to each other. She listens to his pulse with an ear over his chest.

The bad days are hard, and she needs reminding that they pass.

They do.

Sometime when Lance would be 21, Maria hears a knock on the door. She stands and heads over, expecting a package or a neighbor. She freezes. Tall and scarred and broader, but still her baby, Lance stands in the door with a wide smile and eyes instantly brimming with tears.

“Mama, I’m home,” he whispers.

Maria opens her arms, her shock preventing her from speaking. He sinks into them in a way all too familiar and yet also new and strange, this new version of her son.

“I did it,” he says. “I became a hero, Mama. I saved the universe.”

“Oh, mi corazón,” Maria finally manages, her voice broken again. “You never needed to be a hero for me to love you.”

They stay that way for a long, long time.

“I have someone I need you to meet, Mama. I think he’s my heart.”

And, oh, she understands.

“Invite him for dinner,” she agrees, holding hers in her arms like a lifeline.

[bluemantics]

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.”

[bluemantics]

Ring, a small bell tinkled, signaling the entrance of someone into the bar.

“We’re closed,” Lance called from behind the bar, rubbing it down with a cloth. Cream-colored towel smoothed alcohol stains off of the deep mahogany, and Lance stepped back for a moment to take a break and admire his work.

“Do I not get an exception?” a thick western accent drawled. Lance’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Keith,” he murmured. There he stood, just in front of the door, his whole outfit white and black save for his red boots. Lance loved those. They were proof that Keith could be sentimental, if anything.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lance said into the silence. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast between his accent and Keith’s, the irony of him telling Keith to leave. “It’s not safe, Red.”

“Pfft.” Keith sidled up to the bar, a dangerous gleam in his deep purple eyes. Lance shuddered. “Since when has danger ever stopped me… or you, apparently?”

Lance froze, halfway turned to clean up the back wall. “Sorry, what do you mean?”

Keith reached over the bar to grab himself a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass, staring at it and swirling it under his palm, gaze now turned down to the drink instead of Lance.

“What would the people of this sweet ol’ town say if they knew that their kindly bartender was not just hangin’ round with the fearsome outlaw Red, but was an outlaw himself?” Keith quickly looked up to see Lance, expression flint, waiting for the other foot to drop. “Ain’t that right, Blueshot?”

BANG.

Keith stumbled back, hands scrabbling for purchase in his coats, but Lance hopped over the bar in a smooth motion and grabbed his collar. He quickly shoved Keith back to the wall, pressing his back to the dark blue paint. Keith’s hands came up.

“That,” Lance hissed, pointing to the hole in the wall next to Keith’s head. “Was a warning shot, got that? I’m living a fine life right now, alright sweet cheeks? Don’t need anyone screwin’ that up for me. We clear?”

They were barely an inch apart. Lance’s measures breath mingled with Keith’s fast panting, but despite Keith’s obvious distress Lance stayed stock still. Keith’s eyes snapped to the pearl-handled revolver in Lance’s left hand.

He’d shot that with his left hand.

“Fuck, fuck,” Keith huffed. “Yeah. We clear, Blue, just get off, Jesus Christ.”

Lance just hummed, looking down at Keith with an expression he’d never seen on the previously peaceful bartender.

“I dunno,” he purred. “I kind of like you like this.”

Keith’s jaw dropped, failing to form a coherent word.

After a far-too-long (short?) pause, Lance pushed away from him. The gun vanished somewhere at his side. Keith came away from the wall, collecting himself.

“So now what?” Keith demanded, rubbing at his collar.

“Now,” Lance said easily, rolling up his sleeves to clean up more. “Maybe I’ll let you come back if you keep it a goddamn secret. And maybe I’ll see you around more now that we got somethin’ in common. That is, if you don’t get caught.”

Keith looked down to his forearm. A blazing symbol was on his skin, right below his elbow, a… V, just like his own but in blue.

“Alright.”

“Now get out of the bar, Kogane.”

[bluemantics]

“Wow,” Lance breathed, pushing a lock of hair back from Keith’s forehead. He lazily blinked up at Lance, just stirring under the soft white light cast through the windows, his blankets bunched around his waist.

“Hmm?” He intoned, squinting up at Lance, who was propped on a pillow.

“It’s just crazy to think that I have the whole world in my hands right now,” Lance murmured. He smoothed a thumb over Keith’s eyebrow. “All entrusted to me.”

Keith smiled against his will and turned his face quickly into his pillow. “Go to sleep again, Lance.”

Then—

“Fuck,” Keith huffed, bent over Lance with his head resting in Keith’s lap. “Fuck.” He pressed a hand over Lance’s middle. A trail of blood leaked from the corner of Lance’s mouth, and for once, Keith wasn’t a fan of red.

“I’m gonna be okay.” Lance coughed, hair flopping into his face. Keith pushed it back for him.

“Just stay still,” Keith urged.

“I’m going to be fine, Keith.” Lance’s voice was firm, confident now. “You can get us out of here. You can do anything.”

And, well, wasn’t that trust just… /something/ special.

So Keith did something with it, and got them home, white light shining over their faces as the castleship responded to his calls.

Lance’s surety sat on Keith’s shoulders, like a lion’s cape, like a duty and an honor all at once.

[bluemantics]

Aftermath of Omega Shield Klance Oneshot

One second, everything had been normal. Keith was sitting next to Lance in the common room, laughing over some dumb Altean movie.

“God, this is so low-budget,” Lance snorted. “I think the rabbit creature just beat the cow thing?”

“No, no, the cow is fine,” Keith pointed out, pulling another giggle from Lance that made Keith feel warm.

The next second, Lance was frozen.

Stock. Still. Eyes unmoving, fixed on the television device as it played a scene with lightning.

“Lance?” Keith waved a hand in front of Lance’s eyes, desperation creeping into his voice. No response. His brown eyes, normally so vibrant, were cloudy and unseeing. “Wake up, shit, please wake up!” He grabbed Lance’s shoulders and shook him once.

Lance blinked quickly, hands rising up to shield his face as he came out of his stupor. Keith breathed a relieved sigh, leaning back against the couch and staring at Lance. The other Paladin was shaking, hands over his face, so Keith turned off the television with a remote.

He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t Hunk. Fuck, he wasn’t Lance, he didn’t know how to help with emotional episodes.

“Is there… anything I can do? What happened?” he tried weakly.

Lance sucked in a deep breath as the questions hung in midair, dangling between them. Keith knew his absence from the team had been a hard time for all of them. He’d never seen Lance like this, though, rendered helpless.

Finally, after a few deep breaths, Lance spoke.

“I died, Keith.”

The whole universe went quiet.

Keith saw Lance’s mouth moving, registered something about Allura and Omega Shield, but there was no sound. His ears were popping. The pressure was too much.

“So… yeah,” Lance finished, hands awkwardly stilled in midair from where he’d been gesturing.

“Does the team know?” Keith asked, numb.

“… I don’t even know if Allura remembers. No, Samurai, they don’t know.” Keith nodded.

Lance looked down at his hands in his lap. Keith let his eyes follow them too, those always cold hands resting on blue pajama bottoms, and tried to shove aside images of those same hands staying cold forever.

“Are you mad?” Lance whispered.

Keith’s head shot up. Lance looked him in the eye, expression set and jaw clenched. “I don’t regret what I did at all. I would do it again. Just because I—“

Because Keith was a coward, and he couldn’t bear to hear it again, to listen to what he’d been absent from, he grabbed Lance’s shoulders for the second time that night to pull him into a hug.

“…oh,” Lance said, as Keith pulled him into his body. Keith glared over his shoulder and grabbed fistfuls of Lance’s shirt in his hands.

“Not mad,” Keith managed. “Just, please. Never again.” Lance’s smell was distinct, a soft clean scent that Keith readily breathed in.

“You know I can’t promise that, Red.”

Keith just held on tighter.

“I’m not leaving again.”

Lance started shaking.

When Keith felt a wet spot grow through the shoulder of his shirt, he stayed silent and carried Lance’s weight through the tremors.