#go to bed pidge I know what time it is

[bagerfluff]

Keith's A What?

Keith Kogane x Non-Binary Reader

Prompt - "Your hair is so soft"

“Keith got turned into a what?” You asked Shiro. Tilting your head has if that would help you hear better. The team left for a mission a few hours ago and just got back.

You were excited to see your boyfriend, but when he didn’t come up out of his hanger, you were worried. But the Shiro told you something that made you realize that space is weirder than you thought.

Shiro had explained to you that the Galra had some new magic and used that magic to turn Keith into a cat? At first, you didn’t believe, but when Pidge walked out of the red lion’s hanger with a black cat with extra hair on their head, you thought you had seen it all.

“A cat” Shiro answered your question as you walked closer to Pidge. The cat in their arms looked up at you. The cat was fluffy and somehow had Keith’s same signature glare. 

They had the same purple eyes that Keith did. “I think with the help of Allura, I should be able to turn him back” Pidge said with a tilt of their glasses as they placed Keith on the ground.

“But I don’t know how long that will take,” Pigde noted “I’m not even sure if Keith is Keith”. “What?” Hunk said as he looked over at Pidge. “Well I’m not sure if Keith got turned into a cat with the mind of a cat or with the mind of Keith” 

Pidge said as they looked over at Hunk and then back at Keith. “Well someone needs to take care of him,” Shiro said as he looked around. “Well I’m not. I have stuff to do”

Lance said before walking off to his room. “Maybe Y/n should do it,” Hunk pointed down to your legs “I mean, look at Keith”. Everyone looked down as did you to see that Keith was rubbing against your legs.

Like a real cat. “Maybe he does have the mind of Keith” Pidge noted with furrowed brows as they moved their glasses. “That’s fine with me if it’s okay with Y/n”. You looked down at Keith before looking up at everyone else with a smile.

“Yeah I’d love to” You reached down and picked Keith up, Keith immediately resting in your arms. You then walked back to your room. This week might be weirder than you thought.

It had been a couple of days since Keith got turned into a cat, and it was differently weird. Pidge had decided that Keith still had the mind of Keith but just a cat body. Though, Lance did not appreciate that since when he tried to pick Keith up, he scratched him.

Pidge said that it should only take a couple more days, but you like cat Keith. He was still Keith, but cuter. You didn’t think Keith could look cuter.

Though he was a cat, he was still Keith. Moody, hot-headed, and only really tolerated you.

Since Keith couldn’t go on missions or train and you didn’t do any of that to begin with, Keith hung out with you. You spent most of your time fixing stuff around the castle. You were an engineer, like Hunk.

But you liked Keith’s company. He just slept and watched you work, but you liked it. You normally did all of this alone, so you liked it. Sometimes, Keith also did the cutest things, in your opinion.

Like he would cuddle up with you. When you were working, sleeping, or just resting. But you kinda wanted your boyfriend back. You wanted to cuddle him.

You wanted to talk to him. You slumped in your chair at your desk as you thought about this. You wanted your boyfriend back. You let out a sigh as he leaned forward on your desk with your arm.

Keith walked over from your bed and jumped on the table when he heard you sigh. “Hey love” you said and reached up to pet Keith’s hair.

Keith mewled as he walked into your hand and sat in front of you. You continued to run your hand through Keith’s fur. That was something you and Keith liked.

You because it gave you something to do with your hands. As an engineer, you were kinda handsy, needing to do something, or maybe you had ADHD. Keith liked it because he liked the comfort he felt when someone did it. 

Keith’s hair was also soft and fluffy. You loved it. “Your hair is so soft” you said with a small smile. “Or should I say fur” you said with a laugh, and your smile grew. Somehow, Keith looked annoyed as a cat.

You laughed at that as Keith looked away from you. “Come on” you laughed as he moved closer to Keith. “You know you love me” Keith looked back at you and placed his nose on yours.

Your nose wrinkled at the feeling but you loved it.

You held Keith in your arms as you walked into the bridge. Pidge had finally finished the cure with the help of Allura. And it was time to give it to Keith. It was in a needle, and you were also tasked with holding Keith still.

“Ready Y/n. Ready Keith” Pidge said as they walked closer. “Ready” you said, and Keith meowed. Pidge looked around, and everyone else nodded as Pidge walked closer and shot Keith with that needle. 

For a while nothing happened and everyone thought it wouldn’t work. “It didn’t work Pidge” Lance said but was quickly proven wrong as Keith started to shake.

Everyone looked at Keith, who is still in your arms. A couple ticks later a human Keith laid in your arms. He quickly wrapped his arms around your neck. You laughed as you placed a kiss on Keith’s forehead.

“You looked cute as a cat,” you said as Keith blushed from your statement. 

[frostyblustar]

Self-Indulgent Klance Fluff I wrote on a whim:

Keith had never really understood what was going on in his own head. People would ask him how he was feeling, and he never knew how to respond. Most of the time a ‘I don’t know’ would pass from his lips and that would be the end of it.

One of the worst unidentifiable emotions was around Lance. The man never failed to make Keith feel confused, and he didn’t even know why.

The castle ship was cold, and so was Keith. Despite his temper, which he was well aware of, he usually felt colder than most. During the night, the blankets he had didn’t actually do much to stave off the temperatures, and his own body heat didn’t do much.

When he did fall asleep, he would be greeted with nightmares. Fire, Galra, the amazing time that was his childhood. It pissed him off. Why couldn’t he just sleep like the others? Lance, for example, slept like a rock all the time!

He needed to redirect his anger, so to the training deck he went. It was sleeping time in the castle, but not for him or the machines that operated training. He gutted training bots and sparred like he was meant for it. Maybe he was, he had found out he was galra recently, after all.

Keith was just about to slice through another bot when Lance came into the deck, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and blue shorts. Lance seemed surprised, “I heard banging but I assumed it was Pidge working on something late again. Why are you training this early??”

Panting a little, Keith swapped his sword to his other hand. “End training sequence!” The bot powered down just as it was about to take a swing at Keith. “Just uh- Couldn’t sleep.” He wanted to be honest. Lance and him were part of a team, being on the same page was important. If Lance asked, Keith would likely tell him anything. With some reluctance of course, and maybe lacking in details.

“Uh huh… Okay so you’re going back to bed.” Lance said simply as he yawned and took Keith’s wrist. Shock caused him to drop his sword, which turned into a bayard as it fell from his grip.

Keith wrinkled his nose, agitation was likely evident on his face. He hoped it was. “You can’t tell me what to do, Lance.”

His protests went unheard it seems, because Lance just proceeded to start dragging him out of the training deck. Excuse him for this, but Keith did not expect Lance to be as strong as he was. He had to gather up a lot of strength just to wretch away, and even then Lance caught onto his shirt and pulled him forwards again.

Maybe it was from lack of sleep that Lance was able to pull him into the hallway, but Keith kept protesting. “Dude! If we’re going to defeat Zarkon I need to train!”

“You can do that in the morning with us. You need sleep Keith, I notice how tired you can be in the mornings. I never knew you did-“ Lance gestured over at the training deck’s doors. “-This.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “I don’t control my sleep. It’s too difficult and this palace is so fucking cold.” He attempted to cross his arms but his fellow paladin had a firm grip on one.

Lance went quiet for a moment, “Wait, what blankets are you using?” He looked puzzled, which just confused Keith too.

His gaze went to the floor. Lance was wearing Sonic slippers, classic. “Uhh, the ones I was given? What else?”

“Holy crow- Did you not ask for more?? Keith- Just c’mon, you’re about to see what a dumbass you are.”

He was guided down the hallway, towards their rooms. Keith expected them to stop at his door, but they kept going. “Wait- Where are we going??”

“Patience, Keith.” They stopped in front of Lance’s room, and Lance unlocked it silently. Inside was a room very similar to his, but a few key differences were there. There was a gaming system in the corner, and multiple pillows on the bed. Alongside the pillows was a thick blue blanket.

“You didn’t even ask, man! I asked after like, two nights! They got me one of these!” Lance dramatically thumped a hand on the blanket like a car salesman. “I would tell you to go ask, but everyone’s asleep. I could give you mine..?”

Keith shook his head no, though a warm pleasant feeling stirred inside of him. “No. It’s yours.” He had an eyebrow raised at him before his arm was grabbed again and he was tugged to the bed. His feet tripped and he landed face first on the bed with a small omph.

He picked up his face from the bed and glared up at Lance. “What the hell?”

Lance flung a pillow at Keith’s front, and Keith caught it. Damn instincts. The man smiled down at him, “You can sleep here.” Keith fake-gagged.

“I didn’t want to take your blanket, and I ain’t taking your bed.” He wasn’t fond of invading other people’s spaces like that, it was part of his moral code not to. That applied to beds, especially. Lance’s bed felt cursed to be on, it was giving him complex emotions he couldn’t comprehend.

The bed’s owner rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed, taking his Sonic slippers off. “You aren’t taking. If you’re so bothered by that, we could share.” Keith’s face flushed as Lance laughed, “C’mon man, you got socks on. It’s not that intimate to sleep on the same bed.”

“Lance. If I wasn’t so tired right now, I’d be beating you up.”

Lance picked up the blanket, pulling at it while Keith rolled off. He was about to express his annoyance when the blanket was thrown over him, and Lance slid in underneath it too. “Body heat probably helps too, right?”

Keith stayed quiet, trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. Keith had been dragged to this bed, no, Lance’s bed, and now they were laying next to each other. Lance seemed to be taking this very casually though, picking under his nails and then turning on his side to train his gaze on Keith.

“Hey, if you’re uncomfortable the blanket offer is still on the table. I just know for a fact you are struggling to sleep, and I need you ready for training tomorrow. We have a bet going on who will survive the longest during practice and I betted on you lasting the longest.”

Of course. This wasn’t an intimate thing, this was Lance worrying about Keith being tired during training! What else could he think? Keith felt so stupid. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Hey Keith?”

“Yeah, Lance? Did you bring me here to sleep or talk?”

He was starting to get annoyed, who gave Lance the right to toy with his feelings like this? There was already enough on his plate with the war without relationship drama coming in to stir things up. One-sided relationship drama, he believed.

“Sleep but… I need to tell you something.”

Keith didn’t know what to expect, and he was curious on what Lance could possibly tell him about. Maybe it was another bet or something. “Shoot.”

“I think you’re really amazing.” If THAT was a bet, he would kill whoever set it up. He pulled the thick blue blanket that was over them up to his face, covering half of it.

“..What?” Lance hummed and then chuckled, bringing a hand up to touch Keith’s cheek. His blue eyes were sleepy, and his eyelids were fluttering a little.

Keith tried to find anything else to say, but his mind couldn’t work with Lance’s hand on his cheek like this. When the hand was lowered, he felt like he could finally speak. Then Lance opened his mouth again, and he shut his own mouth down.

“I said you’re amazing, that’s all. I’m so glad you’re with me in space..” Then he was asleep, like a rock. A very lovable, pretty rock.

[crush-like-that]

Trying to go to sleep, making myself cry instead

Lance sits on the edge of his bed, glaring down at his hands as the clench and unfurl. “So, like-“ The words can’t seem to come out right. Maybe, if he glares hard enough, the problem will go away. “How much of this is okay?”

Keith tilts his head while he watches Lance, gaze so soft and lips slightly pouted. It’s a wonderful expression, one that Lance is steadily growing used to being directed at him. “What do you mean?”

He sighs and leans to the side, until his shoulder connect with Keith’s. He slumps, curling up into Keith’s space. “I’m a very affectionate person—“ Keith laughs “—but I don’t want to do too much. I guess, that I’m trying to ask is, what are your boundaries?”

Violet eyes blink slowly at him. He stays quiet for a moment while he thinks. “I guess, hugs and stuff are okay? I don’t really know, this doesn’t happen for me a lot.” His shoulder tenses slightly under Lance’s cheek. “The way you are with Hunk and Pidge, it’s like you get up in their personal space without even realizing it. I think, that’s okay for me. It startles me, a little bit, but it’s okay. I… I like it.”

Lance nods, cheek squished. He isn’t used to Keith being so open with him, but it is really nice. It’s nice to hear this, to see that Keith can be anything but hotheaded. (Though, that may be Lance’s fault. Keith only ever reacts to how he’s treated, and Lance loves to instigate.) “so stuff like this?” He leans a little heavier on Keith for emphasis.

A hesitant arm moves to wrap around his shoulders, fingers hesitating over his bicep before finally settling down. Keith nods and lets out a slow breath, relaxing. “Yeah. This is nice.”

Lance feels himself smile before he realizes it. “Awesome.” His voice is slightly muffled from his face being pressed to Keith’s shoulder, but the other boy is too warm and comfortable for him to care much. “Let me know if I’m ever too much, okay?”

He feels Keith stare, so he lifts his head to meet those gorgeous violet eyes, brows furrowed, lips pushed into a deep pout. “You’re not too much. Why would you be too much?”

He forces himself to laugh and shake his head, pretend those words don’t mean as much to him as they actually do. “Because I’m just a lot, man! When I get comfortable, I get comfortable.” Lance sits up a bit straighter, not missing the way Keith’s hand slides down his arm to hold him better. “Like- with my siblings, my cousins! Hell, with Hunk and sometimes Pidge, too. I-“ He makes a face while he tries to search for the proper words. “Like kisses! Forehead kisses, cheek kisses!” Lance laughs and wills himself not to flush, thinking about doing that to Keith. “That’d definitely be too much for you, mullet.” Tease, defuse, don’t make it awkward or vulnerable.

But the look on Keith’s face is sobering.

Eyes wide, tiny crease between his brows, mouth downturned in a way that makes Lance want to kiss away the sadness- his snaps his eyes back up to Keith’s. “What?”

“I don’t think anyone has ever done that to me.” His voice is impossibly quiet, frown growing and- oh. Oh no. That is a problem.

“What?!” Lance sits straight up, turning to face Keith fully. Keith’s hand falls away from Lance’s arm, returning back to his lap. “No one’s ever kissed you on the forehead? Ruffled your hair back? Kiss you goodnight?” Keith’s frown keeps growing, shoulders slumping in the slightest way. And it is a problem. Lance moves before he can get in his head about it, planting a chaste kiss to Keith’s cheek.

The boy, in turn, faces him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted in the most beautifully breathless way. “Oh. That was… nice.”

And that’s how Lance ends up kissing every bit of Keith’s face, until he hears him giggle and break, until they’re lying back and cuddling, until they’re whispering softly to each other, until they fall asleep. And if Lance kisses Keith’s forehead one last time as the boy drifts off, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

Lance has no idea how powerful he truly is.

Seriously. Completely oblivious. He’s convinced that he’s the only one on the team who’s not powerful — and Keith knows this because those are the words Lance said with his own mouth. He’s so convinced that power is Shiro’s strength, Pidge’s intelligence, Hunk’s wit and compassion, Allura’s regality, and Coran’s wisdom. He’s even completely sure that Keith has power in his speed and initiative.

Somehow, though, the heart of Voltron does not know how he holds everyone in the palm of his hand. He does not see the picture of terror he makes; jaw clenched, brown eyes flashing with determination, back straight and shoulders set, demonic spider at his side, telepathic mice gathered on his head, poisonous, sentient vine wrapped around him — and the spirts of two lions, red and blue, growling in tandem behind him as he swears that no harm will come to the beast by Voltron’s hand.

Lance did not see the fear in the dignitary’s face. He did not notice his team staring at him with wide eyes, leaning far away from him and his own army. He did not see the pure, concentrated power rippling from him in waves.

If Keith’s being totally, completely honest, it’s kind of hot.

But it’s also a pain in the ass. As much as Lance’s greatest strength is in convincing people to listen to him, when he sets stubborn eyes on a task, the Universe herself cannot sway him. Keith has a snowball’s chance in hell of managing either.

“Just try,” Shiro pleads. “Please. Attempt to convince him that, as much as it sucks, killing the damn beast is the easiest way to secure this alliance and move on.”

“Shiro, your braincells are spilling out your ears like loose marbles if you think that I can convince him to even listen to the words I will attempt to say.”

“Holy idiom, there, cowboy,” Pidge teases, and Keith breaks away from the intense stare-down with his brother to stick his tongue out and shoot her the finger.

“That’s a normal idiom. Sorry that you grew up in Michigan where the most interesting insult you ever hear is someone saying please with a little more passive aggression than usual.”

“…Alright. Point to Keith.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.”

“Paladins!” Allura snaps, ignoring Hunk’s smartass comment that she is also, actually, a paladin, and as such is included in such snappish remarks and thus has lost a good chunk of ethos. “Focus! Stars, it’s like I have to do everything around here. Keith. Put your big boy pants on.”

Shiro chokes with laughter, desperately trying to pretend it’s really a cough, but it fools no one.

God, those two need to stop hanging out together. Shiro is dragging Allura down to his level. Poor woman.

“Talk to Lance,” she continues. “He only really listens to you.”

Keith looks at her incredulously. “Listens to me — have I missed something? I asked Lance to lead a briefing yesterday and he asked me what deity died and made me king of the jungle. He doesn’t listen to a goddamn word I say.”

Allura raises an eyebrow. “Did he?”

“Did he what?”

“Lead the briefing yesterday?”

Keith deflates. Because, well. “Yeah,” he mutters.

“So you’re just being a pussy, then,” she summarizes – why does Pidge insist on teaching her modern slang and why does she like it so much – and this time Shiro doesn’t even pretend he’s coughing. Hunk and Pidge also lose their shit.

“I resent that,” Keith says haughtily, denying nothing.

“Yeah. Okay. Off you go. Convince him to at least attempt to hear us out.”

Keith sighs, but does as asked, making his way to his and Lance’s rooms. He decides to take a minute and gather his thoughts — see, he’s learning, look at how not-impulsive he’s being — and heads to his room first.

When he gets there, he spends a few meditating beside his bed — he’d rather stick a hot iron through his eye than admit it, but Shiro and Black may be a little, teensy, itty-bitty bit correct about taking time to gather up thoughts and reflect or whatever.

Just as he’s about to get up and knock on Lance’s door, he hears Coran’s heeled boots click down the hallway.

Oh, fuck yes. If Coran talks to Lance, he might actually listen without argument! Lance has no issue following Coran’s instructions!

…On the other hand, Coran’s just as much of a — and Keith says this with all the fondness in his heart, believe him, if he didn’t find it so damn endearing he would not be spending his nights imagining what will happen when he finally grows enough of a pair to ask Lance on a date — tree-hugger as Lance is. He won’t be happy about the beast killing either.

But, hey. Coran’s a wise guy. It’s probably fine.

Just in case, though, he gets up as quietly as he can — he knows Lance’s goddamn bat ears will hear him if his fucking heart beats too loudly — and leans against the door to hear their conversation.

“Lance, dear, I was just coming to find you,” Coran says.

So far, so good. If Coran was already trying to find Lance, it was probably to try and gently convince him that saving the beast might not be the best option, right?

Keith heart sinks a little as a new thought worms into his brain: maybe, Lance isn’t just being stubborn, and he’s actually upset. Maybe Coran is going to make sure Lance is feeling okay, like a good person.

…Yeah. That’s more likely. Keith kind of feels like a jackass.

He startles out of his thoughts as Coran’s voice, notably louder than before, speaks again.

“Well, if you’re really feeling so much better, would you mind helping me recalibrate the fabricator?”

“Absolutely,” Lance says, and he does sound remarkably happier than he did when he stomped out of the bridge.

Huh. Maybe Lance convinced himself…?

As he thinks it, he knows it’s not true. But it might not be best to bring it up now, then. He’s only just gotten into a good mood, it will probably be better to bring it up over dinner, or something, when the good mood has enough time to settle properly.

Keith nods to himself. Yeah. That’s totally not an excuse because he doesn’t want Lance to look at him in complete betrayal again when Keith attempts to convince him that saving the beast is not an option, or anything.

Right.

Totally.

———

part three

[jiyansthesis]

oooo can I request angst w keith? Maybe unrequited love ? Like reader and keith are childhood friends or sthm.

I ACTUALLY HATE WRITING ANGST. but it has to be done. i'm finishing writing a smut for him so 🙏I'LL TAKE THIS ONE. hint of klance?? really implied klance??. tbh i might make a second part if enough people want it

not proofread/really short because im ass at anything other than romance and smut

today was the day.

you straightened up from where you were sitting on your bed, holding a little letter in your hand. a letter you would give to keith if you were too scared to even say it straight to his face.

"i like you." it read. you slightly cringed at how it sounded like a middle schooler's confession letter.

but it was straightforward and got the point across. if it backfired, you could always make up some crazy backstory to the note, but you were sure it wasn't going to get to that point.

you were hoping it wouldn't.

you and keith have been basically tied together for as long as you could remember. you went through elementary school, middle school, and even the garrison academy, until he eventually dropped out.

somehow you had managed to follow him into space. a chance of fate, that one night you managed to follow lance and hunk and pidge.

now basically a medic, since you weren't meant to be a paladin and this was the best job you could fit into. and so far, you've been having the time of your life for the past few months.

of course, that didn't mean you were entirely relaxed all the time. it seemed way too often that one of the paladins have to come to you to fix up an injury they had received, either on a mission or even just practicing. keith was your most normal visitor, and you definitely weren't complaining. (but you were always worried for him.)

letting out a huge sigh, you stand up from your bed and make your way to the door, it sliding open once you were in close proximity. you began sweating as thoughts raced through your mind.

what if he genuinely doesn't like you like that?

what if this ruins what you guys have been building up for years?

what if this disgusts him and he never talks to you again?

what if he does something worse than him saying "no"?

you shook your head. you weren't too confident, but you also weren't going to dampen your mood. all you have to do is go up to him, hand him the note, and wait.

you were about to go search for keith, when it turns out you didn't have to move at all. he was making it down the hallway, and he perked up a little when he saw you standing there.

"hey, i have a question," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck when he had finished jogging towards you.

he noticed the envelope in your hands, but paid no mind to it as you gestured for him to come inside your room.

"so, what do you want to talk about?" you held off on confessing, opting to hear him out first since he did come looking for you, and you were curious. you placed the envelope on the drawer, right next to a picture of you and keith as kids that you had always kept on you.

he slumped onto your bed, letting out a big sigh as you could see he was struggling to find words for what he wanted to say.

"i don't know what to tell lance."

"tell lance?" you questioned. maybe he needed your advice to just talk to lance about something important.

"well. . ." he hesitated.

"you can tell me anything, keith," you made your way over to him and sat next to him.

"i don't know how to tell lance i like him."

you sure as fuck weren't expecting that.

your jaw dropped, and keith watched as you turned away from, not wanting him to see your glossy eyes.

"w-well." your voice cracked, you quickly covering it up with a cough. "sorry, allergies."

when you finally faced him again, you saw him looking at you questioningly. "you alright?"

"yeah, yeah." you rubbed your eyes as if they were itchy, playing into the 'allergies' cover-up. at least he won't ask why your eyes were red and teary.

(but you knew he was smarter than that.)

"hm, well." you tried not to think about it too hard, lest you start tearing up again. "just be bold and do it. you miss all the shots you don't take."

very ironic.

he grunted as he sat up. "as if i haven't been telling myself that for months.

months?

you've been pinning for a man who's liked someone else for months. all those years of childish infatuation down the drain. all the years of thinking about a future with him.

you wished you never met him.

quickly standing up so he wouldn't see the tears threatening to fall, you excused yourself.

"i have to use the bathroom. sorry keith, i'll see you later." right before you left, you turned your head at an angle so you could see him from the corner of your eyes.

"and remember, what could go wrong?" everything went wrong for you.

but you couldn't be mad at him. you were mad you didn't see the signs. it's not his fault he wasn't in love with you, and there was nothing you could do to change that. the most you could do out of love for him is hope that him and lance get together.

the door shut behind you, leaving a very confused keith on your bed.

he also made his way to the door, trying to build up confidence to ask lance out. his eyes trailed to the picture of you and him, and he smiled. he loved you like a sister, and couldn't imagine losing you, although you did seem a bit more distant after he. . .

he realized.

looking at the letter you left on the drawer, he saw that it was addressed to him.

he didn't bother opening it, because he already knew what was in it.

"fuck," he ran a hand through his hair. you were the last person he should've asked for advice. rushing, he went looking for you.

you on the other hand were in a random hallway, rubbing your wet face to make it look as presentable as possible before you went to the training deck to work out all your feelings. is it a healthy coping mechanism? probably not. but you didn't care.

how did you not see the way the two of them interacted? they were obviously a lot closer than with the other paladins. you were stupid.

never would you ever be blinded by hopeless love ever agai-

"something wrong?" you lifted your head to see shiro gazing at you worriedly.

part 2 with shiro!?!?!?

[alohaasaloevera]

Keith tugs him by the arm, and the before Lance can register what’s happening, he’s pushed up against the cold, brick wall of the main building and his lips are suddenly on Keith’s.

Keith’s lips are, unsurprisingly, chapped. He internally chuckles a bit—leave it to Keith to be the school’s resident heartthrob but still not care about how chapped lips are definitely a no-no when it comes to kissing (or just romance etiquette in general). Although, the “promiscuous, mysterious bad boy who steals girlfriends without a second thought and could break you in half if he wanted to” reputation he has isn’t entirely true, so he’ll let Keith get away with that.

A hand snakes up to rest on his cheek. He hums contentedly, placing his right arm on the other’s hip. Shocked screams and thrilled cheers from people above in a classroom, but Lance pays no attention to the noise as his eyes flutter closed, tilting his head to so that their lips can slot perfectly together. Keith makes a pretty noise when Lance bites softly on his lower lip, whining when Lance slips his tongue in.

There’s no fireworks—no butterflies, no adrenaline coursing through his veins; just warmth enveloping his entire body. He feels a sense of fulfillment—the fact that he managed to even get the Keith Kogane to kiss him, let alone just convince him to spend time with him? It feels like he had done the impossible.

The hand on his cheek comes down to rest on his shoulder, coaxing him to open his eyes.

What he sees is a Keith with red, swollen lips, and a look so fond that it makes his entire body start to malfunction and crash in on itself. The sight is so ethereal that he’s positive that he might faint any second.

“I’m so proud of you,” Keith admits, and if this was just a few months ago, Lance would have laughed in his face and stormed off, because why would Keith Kogane of all people ever compliment someone like him? “You’ve been working your ass off every single day for the past—what, 3 months? On multiple occasions I thought you were going to throw up because of how far you were pushing yourself.” Lance giggles a bit at that, remembering the time that he threw up the amazing sandwich Hunk had made just for him and he moped all day, saying a million sorries to Hunk every single time he go the chance to.

“I can’t even explain to you how happy I was when you guys won,” He smiles brightly, and Lance is fighting against everything in his will to not kiss Keith senseless.

Keith sighs shakily, before he stares into Lance’s eyes, purple boring into ocean blue, “Lance, I—”

An alarm goes off, and Keith is suddenly whipping out his phone, muttering a soft, quiet “shit”.

“I gotta go to practice,” Keith says hurriedly, “You know how Coran is about being late.”

Just as he starts running, Keith pauses, looking back at Lance with a small tilt of his lips, “Great job, Sharpshooter.” He adds, his face morphing into that little grin of his.

Lance stumbles the entire way to his car, tripping on nothing at least 5 times.

—

Keith is in his bed, Kosmo curled up by his side, when he sees that he got tagged in a video. He doesn’t use social media often so he doesn’t see the reason why anyone would tag him, but he just shrugs it off and and clicks on the video.

He’s more than surprised when he finds out it’s a video of him kissing Lance—even more when he finds that Pidge herself had posted the video. Black and white text in the middle of the video reads “Bro got rizzed up in front of everyone 💀💀”, and people can be heard screeching in the classroom when Keith pins Lance to the wall.

He looks to the right of his screen to see that the post got ten thousand likes in a matter of hours. Not even bothering to check the comments. He tosses his phone and promptly screams into a pillow.

[sunriserose1023]

Point of Ignition [six]

WARNINGS: Bucky being an ass, emotional angst, feelings, misogyny WORD COUNT: 3963

masterlist

You stepped through the door as quietly as you could, gently pushing it shut behind you. You stood at the door and slid Natasha’s heels off your feet, groaning softly as you wiggled your toes. 

“Hey, pigeon.”

Your eyes were wide when you quickly turned around, seeing Bucky sitting on the couch, a bottle of beer in his hand. You spoke as softly as he had. 

“Hey, Buck. I told you not to wait up for me.” “Couldn’t help it.”

He took a drink from the beer before he spoke again. 

“Did you have a good time?”

He stared at the bottle instead of at you, and you hated the bad feeling that started itching at your spine. 

“Yeah, I did. He’s nice, easy to talk to.” “Good.”

You felt so guilty it put a bad taste in your mouth. You didn’t know what to say, so you just watched Bucky drain the beer and stand up from the couch. He bypassed you to go into the kitchen to throw the bottle away and you followed him, taking slow deliberate steps. 

“Bucky—“ “Come on, Pidge. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

He didn’t. Neither did you. You watched him walk down the hall and you slowly followed after him, feeling very much like a child who knew they’d done wrong and was just waiting to be punished. You stood in the doorway and watched Bucky tug his shirt off, watched him crawl into bed and sit up against the headboard. His eyes met yours as you made no moves to come into the room and he blew out a breath, shaking his head as he laid down and turned his back to you. 

You didn’t say anything, just nodded as you walked to his dresser, where he’d cleaned out a drawer for you. You grabbed a set of pajamas, leaving the room and going into the bathroom. You took your makeup off and washed your face, brushed your teeth. You left your dress in the bathroom, wearing your pajamas down the hall to the living room. You sat in one of the recliners, pulling the blanket Natasha had thrown on the back of the couch over and covering yourself with it. 

You curled into a ball, fighting back tears that you couldn’t understand. You hadn’t done anything wrong. Bucky had no reason to be so mad at you, no reason to treat you the way that he was. He was the one at fault here, not you, but you couldn’t drum up the righteous indignation you wanted. You closed your eyes, blanket pulled up to your chin. 

“Pidge, what are you doing?”

You opened your eyes, turning to see Bucky standing over you. You just blinked as he repeated himself. 

“What are you doing in here?” “Trying to sleep.” “In the chair?”

You nodded, and he shook his head. 

“Why?” “Because you’re mad at me.”

Bucky held your eyes for a moment, then slowly dragged his hand down his face. He blew out a breath, then crouched down where you were face-to-face. 

“I’m not mad at you. “Yes, you are.” “No, I’m not. I tried to be, but I can’t.”

You stared at him as he stared back at you, and you spoke softly. 

“You’re acting like you are.”

He sighed and reached over, fingers toying with the ends of your hair. 

“I know it doesn’t make sense. I don’t have any right to feel this way. We’re friends, just friends, so it shouldn’t bother me as bad as it did tonight when you go on a date.”

You reached up to take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. 

“You can’t fuck any girl you want on the couch and then get mad at me for going to dinner with a guy.” “I know.” “I’m not for the double standard bullshit.” “I know. You deserve more than this. Better.”

You sat up and Bucky’s hands went to your knees. 

“You were jealous.” “Yeah, I was. And you don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same way about me and you’ve told me before I don’t feel the way about you that my brain’s trying to tell me I do. It’s just because you haven’t fallen at my feet, right? That’s what you said.”

You did your best to ignore that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, the one that had started when he’d brought up the words you’d told him on the “date” he’d taken you. 

“Bucky—“ “I don’t think any guy is good enough for you, Pidge. But I’ll get over it.”

You reached for his hand and he gave yours a squeeze. 

“I’m sorry I acted the way I did. I’m not mad at you.” “I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” “Don’t be.”

He stood up, keeping hold of your hand and pulling you to your feet. He wrapped his arms around you and you closed your eyes as you leaned into his embrace. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, pigeon.”

You kept your eyes closed as he held you, head resting against his shoulder, breath catching in your throat when he pressed his lips to your temple. His voice was low in your ear when he whispered to you. 

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

You nodded, and Bucky held your hand as he led you down the hall. He closed his bedroom door behind you, walking you around to your side of the bed. You sat and smiled up at him. 

“You gonna tuck me in? “You want me to?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his shoulder. He gave a quiet laugh, shutting the light off as you crawled under the covers. He climbed in bed beside you, turning on his side the way you were, the two of you facing each other. 

“When’s your next fight?”

Your voice was soft. Bucky lifted his shoulders, then spoke just as softly. 

“I never know. Could be tomorrow, could be three weeks from now. Whenever they get someone for me to fight, they text us about an hour before.”

You slowly nodded and he smiled. 

“Why? You running low on funds, Pidge? Need to bet on me again?”

You gave his shoulder a push as he laughed. 

“Get some rest, Pidge.” “Yeah, I know you need your beauty sleep.”

Bucky chuckled as he rolled onto his back. You watched him close his eyes, take a deep breath and let it out. You watched his body relax, the tension in his muscles ease as sleep overtook him. 

You’d noticed in the week you’d been living with him and Sam and Nat that Bucky could fall asleep faster than any person you’d ever known. It took you some time to decompress, to quiet your mind before you could sleep, but with that one deep breath, Bucky was out. 

You watched him sleep for a while, smiling when quiet snores escaped from him. You closed your eyes, sliding a foot across the bed until your toes were touching Bucky’s leg. You smiled, taking in a deep breath of your own, finally drifting off yourself. 

You sat in one of the recliners, a bowl of cereal on your lap that you took bites from as you slowly rocked back and forth. You heard Natasha’s bare feet pad down the hall before she was standing in front of you. You shook your head, swallowing your spoonful of Frosted Flakes as you leaned around her. 

“Move over. Adam’s about to confront Victoria about her stepdaughter’s role in his grandson’s baby swap.” “You’re not serious.”

You motioned for her to move, and she did, exaggeratedly rolling her eyes. You slipped another spoonful into your mouth, eyes on the television screen while Natasha tousled her wet hair. Sam came whistling down the hall with a towel thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside your chair. You pointed your spoon at the screen. 

“Adam’s about to confront Victoria.” “Ooh, about Harlow’s role in the baby swap?”

You nodded and Sam hurried to sit in the chair near yours. Natasha stared with wide eyes at the two of you, and Sam pointed towards the TV. 

“We’ve been waiting for this for like a month.”

Natasha blinked, shaking her head as she walked into the kitchen. You dragged your spoon back through the milk, taking another bite. The door opened behind you, a second before Bucky greeted the room. 

“Good morning, sunshines. What are we up to?”

Sam leaned around his chair. 

“Adam’s about to whip Victoria’s ass.” “About the baby swap? Fuckin’ finally.”

Bucky dropped his bag by the door, going to your chair and forcing you to scoot over as he sat next to you. Natasha’s mouth fell open as Bucky leaned closer to you, eyes focused on the screen as he opened his mouth. You rolled your eyes, getting a spoonful of cereal and feeding it to him. The three of you stared at the television as the long-awaited confrontation began, and Natasha shook her head. 

“Who are you people?”

The three of you shushed her, and she shook her head as she turned to fix herself a cup of coffee. She couldn’t help but smile as she heard you and Bucky fussing over the last of your cereal, the room going quiet as what you all had apparently been waiting for came to a head on the television. 

Natasha’s phone chimed with a text and she went to Sam’s room to pull the phone off the charger. She slowly made her way back into the room, smiling when she saw the three of you engrossed in the soap opera. 

“He’s not going to bring up Ava’s—oh, apparently he is.” “Vicky’s not going to stand for that. Get him, girl.” “She doesn’t have a leg to stand on, though. The second she found out about Harlow’s involvement, she should have said something.” “She’s just as guilty. I’m on Adam’s side.”

Bucky nodded his agreement, and when the show broke for a commercial, Natasha stepped into the room. 

“They fixed the water at the dorm. We can go back now.”

Three faces turned to her, with varying stages of devastation on them. She couldn’t help the giggle, eyes widening as they met yours when Bucky put an arm around you and pulled you close. 

“Just stay here. It’s not like Sam’s going to let you go far.”

You swallowed as you forced a smile. 

“But we … we’ve got to stay in the dorm. Get the whole college experience, you know?”

Bucky wrapped both arms around you, squeezing. 

“Don’t leave me, pigeon. Please.” “Buck—“

He lifted a hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks together. 

“I won’t be able to make it without you, Pidge.” “Whet go of my fashe.”

Sam snorted at the sound of your voice, and Natasha laughed. Bucky moved his hand to where your lips were pursed, and he leaned in. 

“If you wanted a kiss, Pidge, all you had to do was ask.” “Don’t you dare.”

Bucky turned your face and kissed your cheek, finally letting go of you. You pushed him, using the back of your hand to smack his forehead. Bucky pouted, rubbing a hand over his forehead and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re fine.”

You started to say more, but Sam leaned over, waving an arm. 

“It’s back on!”

The three of you turned back to the TV while Natasha rolled her eyes, going back into the kitchen. Bucky loosened his hold on you, body turned towards the television, but keeping an arm around your shoulders. You snuggled closer to him, and Sam pretended to ignore the two of you, all three of you gasping in unison when a slap echoed from the TV. 

“Holy crap. She just smacked the shit out of him.”

Natasha walked back into the living room, standing beside Sam’s chair. 

“Who is she again?”

Sam tugged her down to sit in his lap, whispering to her as she became engrossed in the action.

You walked back into yours and Natasha’s dorm, wrinkling your nose. You’d come back once to grab more clothes and things, but the room seemed stale now. You set your bag on the bed, frowning as you sat beside the bag. 

You missed Bucky. 

You’d gotten used to the camaraderie in Sam and  Bucky’s apartment, the way you fit in with them effortlessly. The apartment was homey, cozy, while the dorm felt cold. You sighed and stood up, repacking your stuff into the dresser. You didn’t bother trying to save space for Natasha; she was staying with Sam. 

Your phone chimed with a text and you hurried to it, anticipation warming your chest at the thought of who could be texting you. When you saw John Walker’s name, you felt yourself deflate just a bit. You looked up at the mirror on the wall, seeing disappointment in your eyes. 

You wanted the text to be from Bucky. 

You shook your head, staring into your eyes in the mirror. 

“Don’t. That’s a slippery slope and you know it. He’s just your friend. That’s all.”

Your reflection didn’t talk back, didn’t give you any advice. You sighed, looking back down at your phone, at the text from John Walker. 

There’s a pickup kickball game tonight. Want to join me? Depends. Do I have to play? No, you can just watch. And maybe cheer for me?

You raised your eyebrows. 

Deal.  Can I pick you up so we can walk together?

You swallowed, staring at the phone. You glanced back at the mirror, then responded, giving John the location of your dorm. You set the phone on your bedside table, blowing out a breath as you flopped back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

You sat on the bleachers with a few people, a couple girlfriends of the players and a boyfriend, along with a few others who were there to watch. It had gotten cooler as the sun had set, and John had offered you his hoodie, which you’d gladly accepted, even if you kept having to push the sleeves up. 

“So you’re Walker’s girl, right?”

You had to fight the refusal that bubbled up in your chest, turning to the girl beside you. Before you could say a word, the guy sitting at your feet looked back. 

“Don’t scare the poor girl off. It’s new, right?”

You nodded, and he did the same. 

“Tiff’s just jealous because you snagged him before she could.” “Uh, no ma’am, I am not. I’m just trying to make sure she’s not with Trey.” “Because that’s who Tiff wants.”

The guy laughed as Tiff kicked at him, and you smiled. He turned to face you. 

“Nobody wants Trey. Steer clear. But if you’ve got Walker, you’re set.” “What do you mean?”

The girls exchanged a smile while the guy leaned closer. 

“First, he’s gorgeous. Good job there. Second, he’s smart as fuck, so perfect study buddy.” “If you ever get around to studying.”

The girls giggled again while he smacked Tiff’s leg. 

“Third, baby boy is loaded, so if you wanted to ditch all this and go for that MRS degree, you’d be golden.”

You laughed at that, even while you felt like you were on fire under John’s hoodie. You knew everything the guy had said already. You knew John was wealthy, you’d learned that he was very smart, and you had eyes. You can see how attractive he is. You leaned forward, talking softly. 

“I’m so sorry. What did you say your name was?” “Oh god, girl, I probably didn’t even say. I’m Cody. That’s Tiff and the blonde is Megan.”

You told him your name, the two of you turning to the field when cheers rang out. You watched a guy run around the bases, and you cheered when he passed home plate. John came walking up next, looking your way and smiling. You gave a cheer and clapped and he winked at you before he turned to the pitcher. 

“Oh, yeah. Walker’s toast.”

You laughed at Megan’s comment, even as a feeling of just wrong hit the pit of your stomach. You took in a breath and let it out, pasting a smile on your face as you watched John kick the ball way out into the field, past the players who had to start running for it. You jumped to your feet and cheered with Megan, Tiff, and Cody as John rounded the bases, pointing at you before he crossed home plate. 

You stood at the bleachers, smiling when John jogged over to you. 

“I’m sorry I’m so sweaty, but you are my good luck charm.”

You rolled your eyes, looking up at him. 

“Do you need your hoodie back?” “Nah, it looks better on you.”

You gave a soft laugh as he reached for your hand, entwining your fingers as the two of you started walking. 

“Do you want to walk around for a bit?” “Sure. I’m nice and warm.”

John smiled, and the two of you talked about everything under the sun as you walked around campus. You didn’t realize how late it was until John stopped to check his phone after his text tone sounded. You looked at your own phone, eyebrows raising. John gave a soft laugh, then turned to you. 

“Do you want to do something the slightest bit illegal?”

You tried to hide the way your stomach sank by forcing yourself to smile. 

“Am I going to get in trouble?”

He winked at you. 

“Stick with me, babe, and everything will be fine. Just…”

He lifted a finger to his lips and you nodded, taking his hand again, hoping he wouldn’t feel how clammy yours had become. You swallowed as he led you a good way through campus, into the medical library. The student manning the front desk was slumped over asleep, and John led you through the shelves to a stairwell, then down a few flights of stairs. When you were certain you were way underground, the two of you reached a door. John tugged it open and let you walk through, shutting the door softly before taking your hand and hurrying down a hallway. At the end of the hallway, there was another door, and John bent down where your noses were almost touching. 

“Stay close to me.”

You nodded, grabbing onto the back of his shirt as he pushed open the door. You held his shirt tight in your fist as your ears adjusted to the raucous sounds in the room, a stark difference from the silence you’d encountered all through the building. John was high fiving and shaking hands as he led you through the room, and you prayed to anyone who was listening that this wasn’t some underground casino or drug ring or something. John tugged you into a corner, bending down where you could hear him over the boisterous crowd. 

“Okay, so they call this the Devil’s Lair.” “The what?” “I know, it’s kind of lame. But, this is basically an underground fight ring.”

Your eyes widened. 

“Wait a minute. This isn’t—“ “Ladies and jerks, girls, gays and theys, welcome to the Devil’s Lair!”

You stood with your mouth open as the entire room chanted the welcome. You shut it and shook your head. 

“John—“ “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” “No, I—“ “Pidge?”

You and John turned to see Bucky standing before you, no shirt on his wide chest. You just stared at him, and he finally pulled his eyes from yours to notice the man beside you. 

“So Walker is who you’ve been going out with?”

John turned to look at you. 

“How do you know Barnes?”

You couldn’t look away from Bucky to answer him. Bucky smiled. 

“Her roommate’s dating my roommate. We third wheel it together, right, Pidge?”

You nodded, and John leaned closer to you. 

“Why does he call you that?”

You finally turned to look at John, shaking your head. 

“I n-need some air.”

You pushed past them and jogged to the door you’d followed John through, pushing it open and forcing yourself to take a deep breath, pushing your hands through your hair. 

“Pidge, hey. Just breathe.”

You turned to face Bucky, shaking your head. 

“I didn’t … I didn’t know what … he didn’t tell me this was what we were doing.” “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, pigeon.”

You looked away from him, forcefully exhaling. Bucky took a step closer to where you were pacing. 

“Hey, you’re fine. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I’m not going to let it, and I’m sure Walker’s going to stick right by you.” “Then where is he now?”

Bucky smiled. 

“I told him to stay put.” “And he just listens to you?” “People usually do. You’re the exception, Pidge.”

You groaned, pushing your hands through your hair again. 

“Bucky—“ “You wanna place a bet before we get going?”

You swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest as best you could with the oversized sleeves in the way. You kept your head down, missing the way Bucky’s face twisted when he noticed you were wearing John’s hoodie. You stared at your feet as you spoke softly. 

“I didn’t even see the guy you’re fighting.” “Oh, he’s a big ol’ bastard. Probably going to rip me limb from limb.”

You made a quiet noise as you closed your eyes.

“Don’t say that.” “Pidge. Don’t tell me you’re worried about me.”

You turned your head and met his eyes, and you watched his face change from the happy-go-lucky persona to a serious one. His eyes seemed to deepen in color as he stepped closer to you. 

“I’m going to be fine, pigeon. Don’t worry about me.” “You can’t promise that.” “I can. You saw me fight.” “Once.”

Bucky smiled, inching even closer, forcing you to look up at him as his wrapped hands cupped your elbows through the sleeves. 

“What would ease your mind, Pidge? If he didn’t lay a hand on me?”

You nodded, and Bucky’s smile widened. 

“I bet I can make it through this whole fight without him laying a finger on me. Or a fist, if that makes you feel better.”

You glanced down at your feet, then back into his steely eyes. 

“And what do I get when I win this bet?”

Bucky chuckled. 

“If you win, I’ll do whatever you want.” “No sex for a month.”

Bucky winced, making you giggle. He sighed, then looked back into your eyes. After a heartbeat, a smile crept across his face. 

“And when I win, you have to move back in with me for a month.”

Your eyes widened, and Bucky held out a hand that was wrapped with black tape. 

“Those are the terms of the bet. You in, Pidge?”

You looked at his hand, then his eyes. The smile threatening at his lips, the joy in his eyes … you couldn’t help yourself. You put your hand in his, barely suppressing the shiver that threatened to roll down your spine at the touch of your hands. 

“Deal.”

You walked beside John Walker as he led you away from the medical library, hands tucked into the kangaroo pocket of John’s hoodie you were still wearing. 

“That was incredible!”

You nodded, pursing your lips. John shook his head, a laugh leaving his mouth. 

“Did you see? It was like Barnes was in that ring by himself. Like there wasn’t anyone else there with him.”

John laughed again. 

“The guy never laid a finger on him. Not a single touch. And then Barnes just knocked him the fuck out.”

John shook his head and you smiled grimly. 

“Yeah. Imagine that.”

PREVIOUS//NEXT

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 03)

AO3 Link

SEPTEMBER

“I’m not askin’ you to hang the moon, Johnny! I’m askin’ you to drive to Glencoe. I told you, I dinnae ken who made the appointment, but it cannae be changed. Please, just do this for me. I’m your sister.”

“Don’t pull that shite. I dinnae mind makin’ the wee drive to Glencoe, but I dinnae ken fuck all about cakes! I just got back from fuckin’ Faridah, didn’t I? What do I ken about fuckin’ buttercream? Tell your maid of honor to go. She’d pick a fine cake!”

“She is going! Haven’t you been listening, you eejit? You’re takin’ her with you. She’ll help you…” a pause, and then, “I know, I know. I’m sure you were gonna meet back up with Bekah, or Cherise, or Anjali, or -”

“Hey! Tha’s no’ fair. Take it back right now, or I’ll tan your hide.”

“Come on and try, boyo! All those wee military exercises and I’ll still have you whingin’ for mum like you did that one Christmas when -”

You knocked on the door, hoping to prevent fraternal bloodshed, and the voices stopped. A long pause stretched out into infinity. 

You had been standing on the porch of the MacTavish house for quite a long time. At first, seeing his Jeep in the driveway had kept you trapped in the cab, much to the cabbie’s chagrin. Over the past three months, you’d had plenty of thoughts about Johnny MacTavish and his sister. He had taken you home from the bar and put you to bed, but not in the way you might have thought, given his…reputation. The next morning, he was gone again. Pidge said they’d given him only two days away, and then he was back to Urzikstan to do whatever sandy, nasty job he had to do there. 

You’d been planning on leaving as well, needing to return to the endless slog of your studies, so you booked a train home. Back at your flat, you’d started overthinking and obsessing. 

How embarrassing was it that you’d gotten so drunk? He must think you’re such a loser! A girl who can’t even hold her alcohol. They all must think that about you. And now you have to do a whole wedding with them! You were never drinking again. Well, that resolution lasted about half a day, because when you started rehashing the feeling of being carried in his arms and the smell of whisky as it hung on his breath as he tucked you into his bed, you needed a fucking drink. 

So, wine in hand, you began to unpack.

You weren’t completely sure if it had been a drunken accident or not, but you found Johnny’s shirt in your bag, and you immediately felt a pang of regret. Perhaps you were a thief after all. You didn’t remember putting it in there. What else had you done that you didn’t remember? 

Damnit . 

You thought about it for a moment, but then you caved and you put on the shirt. You rationalized it, claiming you’d wash it. No big deal. 

But then, three months went by and you had found a small hole in the sleeve from overwearing it. 

“Fuck!” You lamented, fingering the threads as if it couldn’t be true. 

You were not a seamstress by any stretch of the imagination, but you threw a stitch in it and prayed he wouldn’t notice. 

Now, it was September, and he was back to attend the official MacTavish-Hamilton engagement party. You had planned to stay the whole week with Pidge, canceling your meetings and bringing your laptop with you. You had a chapter due next Wednesday, and it was crunch time. But now, apparently, you were going to Glencoe. 

With him. 

Alone. 

You knocked again, a little louder. The door creaked open and only Pidge greeted you over the threshold. 

“Hey, babes! Come in! We’re in the kitchen. Got loads to share. So much to do… Oy, your bags are so heavy! What did you bring in here, hen? Bricks?”

“Close,” you half-smiled, “Books.”

“Och, Jesus,” she struggled a bit and then dropped them in front of Johnny’s door unceremoniously. 

“Thanks, Pidge.”

She plodded into the kitchen, and you followed behind. As you rounded the corner, you saw him busying himself with the dishes, putting away cups and plates. The kettle was on, and in a few minutes, there’d be tea. He stopped as soon as he saw you, drying his hands on the striped tea towel and smiling at you. The grin didn’t quite meet his eyes, and his obvious disappointment with needing to babysit you for this Glencoe outing put a stake right through your heart. 

“So,” Pidge broke the news to you in front of her brother, “I know you were going to come with me to the dress fitting, but I double booked, and now the cake shop wants to do a wee tasting. I will owe you my literal first born if you go in my place, babes.”

You tried to act surprised,

“But, wasn’t I supposed to do a fitting as well?”

“Yeah, I told them the situation, and they booked you tomorrow bright and early. Please? Don’t let my fuckin’ brother pick out my wedding cake. It’d be chocolate on chocolate and nothin’ else.”

“What’s wrong with chocolate?” Johnny was indignant. 

Pidge gave him a warning look and then turned her attention back to you, 

“Will you pretend to be me for a day?”

The look in her eyes told you that an option for denial wasn’t even on the table, but the look in his as he gazed down at his white-knuckled grip on the counter, said there wasn’t room for anything but. 

You didn’t care what he thought (liar), and you were there for Pidge, not him.

“You know I will. They think I’m you?”

“Yes, and you need to sign for it as well. Bring back the receipt, if you would. God, you’re the absolute best.”

She kissed you on the cheek and grabbed her bag from the counter, turning to you once more before she walked out of the door,

“And don’t let this dafty give you any shite. If he’s not on his best behavior, I’ll injure him, so help me God.”

As she walked out of the house, Johnny rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys,

“C’mon, lass. It’s a trek, so we need to get petrol before we head out.”

“Sorry that you have to go with me,” you apologized, acknowledging his disdain. 

He smiled and shook his head, walking you out to his jeep. The top was off, along with the doors. You quickly braided your hair back, realizing it was about to be a wind-swept drive. 

“Not your fault, hen. My wee sister’s just plottin’ against me, that’s all. You ever been to the Three Sisters?”

“No,” you told him, “Not much of a hiker.”

You knew about the famed mountains, and you had heard of their stunning beauty, but you hadn’t had the opportunity to go north to see them for yourself. Without a personal car, it was hard to get out of the city much less to the mountains of Glen Coe. 

You climbed up into the Jeep, using the handle to hoist yourself inside. He jumped up into the driver’s seat with ease, pulling a pair of sunglasses down from the visor and shoving them onto his face. Johnny reached over you and into the glove compartment, digging around for a bit before handing you a matching pair. They were extremely sporty, and you were certain you looked ridiculous in them, but he made them look so stylish. 

“Here ya are, lass. Gonna be a long drive. We’ll go the scenic route. Cannae believe you’ve never seen the mountains. Tha’s a bloody crime.”

As you drove, he pointed out landmarks, good coffee shops to visit, and sang loudly to the radio (which was muffled by the roaring wind). He made you feel so at ease, and now that Pidge wasn’t lurking around every corner, you let yourself explore him with your eyes indulgently. You laughed at his jokes when they were funny, and smiled freely. Johnny was constantly talking to you when he wasn’t signing, asking about your work, about America, and about the places you’ve been while you were in his country. 

“Oh! I know you know this one! The Cranberries? C’mon, lass, don’t break my heart,” he turned up the song as far as it would go and watched you to see if you’d sing along. 

“Who doesn’t know this song?” You smiled, singing right along with him.

“…You know I'm such a fool for you. You got me wrapped around your finger…”

He smiled at you, pleased that you were playing along, practically screaming the lines.

By the time you’d made it through the gorgeous landscape to the base of the Three Sisters mountains, you were sore from laughing, and hoarse from singing, and you’d fallen head over heels for the handsome soldier again and again and again. 

Eventually, you made it to the town of Glencoe, and you pulled up your map on your phone, giving him directions to the bakery. He parked in the street. It was misting a little, and he helped you out of the Jeep to bring you under the awning of a small Nero cafe. You zoomed in on the map to get a better view, and he leaned over your shoulder to see it. 

He beamed,

“Aye, just ‘round the wee corner. And it’s right by the pub! Stop in for a pint after, what do you say, lass?”

“Only if we get out of there without arousing any suspicion. We have to convince them that we’re getting married.”

“Don’t worry about that. If you were my wee hen, I couldn’t keep my filthy paws off of ya. Havin’ a hard time now as it is,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, keeping up with his jokester attitude. 

“Easy does it, Hammie. I’m saving myself for the wedding night, you know?” You joked right along with him, playing coy.

“Dinnae worry your wee heid, lassie. I’ll take you to confession tomorrow, and all the sins of tonight will be washed away,” Johnny grabbed you by the hand and led you back into the street. 

He paused for a moment, looking down at you as your palms touched, fitting together like a glove, almost as if he had forgotten something. He shook the thought away and walked with you to the store in companionable silence.

When you arrived, he held the door open and let you step up into the warm, quiet bakery. All of the wind and the noise of the street disappeared in the little shop, and the smell of sugar overwhelmed your senses. You heard Johnny sigh, enjoying the smell himself. 

“Hello! Welcome to Stiff Peaks,” a cheery little grandmother of a woman greeted you from behind the counter.

Her earrings were tiny whisks, and she had a bit of flour on her cheek. She came out from behind the register and shook your hands, 

“You must be the Hamiltons, or I should say the future Hamiltons.”

“Yes ma’am,” you smiled, downplaying your American accent, “We’ve come to try your wedding cake offerings.”

“Of course, right this way.” 

She led you both down a tight corridor to the back room where a single two-person table waited for you. A black camera hung obviously in the corner. You eyed it when she wasn’t looking, and Johnny met your gaze, giving you a wink.

“Here you are, Pigeon, have a seat,” he held out your chair for you to sit down, adding a level of romantic gentlemanly affection that you were not expecting, kissing your neck from behind as you sat. 

The feeling of his lips sent a shock through your system. They were so soft and plush, and when he pulled away, you could feel the cold air rush across the wet spot he left behind. The sting of it tortured you, and you felt your cheeks flush. He saw them, and instead of ribbing you, he averted his eyes with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. 

“Och, you lovebirds,” the baker beamed, “Warms my heart, it does. I’ll be back in a spot.”

She was gone from the room, and you were about to make a comment to him, and then you remembered the camera. He was looking at it, too, and then he focused back on you. He spoke to you in a voice that was low and deep, a slow rumble that covered you like a fog, blocking out everything around you,

“Feeling alright, Pidge?”

“Just fine, mo chridhe,”   you used Hamish’s favorite nickname for Brigette, and smiled sweetly at Johnny, testing out your accent. 

He looked like he’d seen a ghost, but he recovered quickly, whispering, trying not to be heard by the camera,

“Do you know what that means?”

“Babe? I call you that all the time, babe.” You raised your eyebrows as the baker came back in, warning him.

He shook his head slowly, as if fighting making a comment, drinking down most of the water she had brought to the table. She also set down the first course of cake bites, one plate for each of you. 

“Okay, dearies, here is the first selection. We have the classic vanilla, Italian creme, lemon custard, and a black forest. These are less adventurous, and suitable for just about any wedding, no matter how formal. Gave you a pair of wee score cards there to keep up with your winners. I’ll leave you to it!”

You looked down at the scorecard and back up at the cakes. Johnny grabbed his and immediately crossed out the black forest and the lemon custard. 

“Hey!” You protested, “You haven’t even tried those. And, besides, Pid- uh, I love lemon!”

“Aye,” he cut his eyes at you, “You do love lemon, Pigeon. But, you’re the only one in the family who does. It’s out.”

“Well, I think you, Hamish, would balk at vanilla and Italian creme. Too pedestrian for a man of your exotic tastes, wouldn’t you say, mo chridhe?”

“Sure, mo mhèirleach, I’m an adventurous sort of man,” his tone turned darkly suggestive, “You ken that well enough, don’tcha?”

You felt his hand on your leg as he skated it up your thigh, giving it a hard squeeze, making you gasp. Just before you could chastise him, he cut you off, whispering in your ear,

“Careful, bonnie. Tha’s a sound I’ll like to hear again.”

You whispered back, too low even for him to hear - almost,

“Johnny…” 

He gave you a look that contained that same nameless emotion as when he first grabbed your hand outside in the street. You lingered there for longer than you should have, and you were interrupted by the baker.

“Annnnd…” She gave you both time to return to your seats politely, pretending like you hadn’t just been caught breathing each other’s air, “Here is the second round. How did we like the first set, lovebirds?”

You shrugged,

“They’re beautiful, but we’re looking for something a little more…”

“Sexy,” Johnny said in a matter-of-fact voice. 

You backhanded his chest, hard. 

“Hamish!”

The baker laughed,

“No, no! I get it! I agree. I think you’ll like these much more. Can I get you some more water, dearie?” She asked him.

“Aye, tapadh leibh.” Thank you . 

“Se do bheatha. An ann à Gleann Comhann a tha thu?” You’re welcome. Are you from Glencoe?

He shook his head, the only part of the conversation you could understand,

“Chan e, dìreach an seo a’ fheuchainn ri cèic a bruadar fhaighinn dha mo bhean bhrèagha.” No, just here trying to get my beautiful bride the cake of her dreams.

“Is urrainn dhomh innse dhut gu bheil thu dealasach.” I can tell you’re dedicated.

He laughed,

“Aye. Barrachd na thuig mi, tha mi a’ smaoineachadh.” More than I realized, I think.  

Then, the baker was gone. You whispered to him,

“What did you say to her?” 

“Just told her I’m allergic to almonds.”

 You searched his face to see if he was lying. You couldn’t tell.

“Are you?”

“No,” he smiled, looking down at his cue card. 

In the end, you went with the hummingbird cake and coconut creme filling, with a cinnamon cream cheese frosting. It was perfect for Pidge’s love of citrus, and adventurous enough for Hamish’s tastes. The baker left you with a bag of goodies; cookies, slices of the cake you selected, some macarons, and a copy of the contract.

“Thank you so much for having us. We can’t wait for the big day,” you shook her hand again and she smiled at you. 

“Of course, dearie. Looking forward to it. You two enjoy each other. The days go by so fast,” she winked. 

Johnny opened the door for you and let you out into the street again. 

“So, Mr. Hamilton,” you said, keeping up the charade a little longer, “About that pint…”

“Mmm,” Johnny grinned rakishly, “I have a better idea, lass.”

He took you back past the cafe and ducked into a Spar. He said he needed to pick up a bottle of scotch for one of his mates, an Oban 14-year, and while he was there, he grabbed two cold pint bottles of Caledonia cider from the refrigerated section. He loaded up the Jeep again, and you waited patiently in the passenger seat, thinking you were heading home. 

“You ready for your surprise, bonnie?”

“Surprise?”

He laughed, shoving his sunglasses back on and smiling as he turned off of the main road and onto a smaller lane. As you drove, the greenery became more verdant than ever. It was early September, so even though some of the leaves began to change colors, most of them retained their deep emerald hues. The branches and brush rushed by you, and from the open door of the Jeep, if you weren’t so afraid to lose a limb, you could have reached out and touched the leaves. Then, just as you rounded a corner, the hillside gave way to a stunning view. 

A valley stretched out before you, showcasing the high, sloping peaks of the Three Sisters. You’d seen them from the other highway, but this road made it seem like you had entered into another realm. Just when you thought you’d have to pass them by, Johnny pulled off the road into a small car park and shut down the engine. 

You got out, phone in hand, ready to take some photos. It was too beautiful not to, and if you were honest with yourself, you wanted to remember this day. 

“Well, go on then, get my good side,” you spotted Johnny over your shoulder on the screen.

He put his hand around your body and squeezed you in, making sure you were both framed in the screen. You took the selfie, and then he made a noise of discontent,

“Ahh, that won’t do. Another!” 

When you took this one, right as you reached for the button, he planted a kiss on your cheek. He pulled away and grabbed your phone out of your hands to look at it,

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

You watched as he texted it to himself, leaving his number in your phone as “Mo Chridhe”. 

“Is that how you spell it? I never would have guessed that,” you tried to keep your voice level, pretending like the cheek kiss hadn’t phased you.

“Yeah, we just keep all the other letters in there to confuse you foreigners,” he winked, “C’mon, bit of a walk.”

He pulled the bag of drinks from the back of the Jeep, shoved a towel in the sack, nicked the macarons from your goodie bag, and left everything else in the car. You followed him up the hill quite a ways, but it wasn’t an impossible climb. By the time you reached the top, however, you were out of breath. He kept going up, motioning for him to follow you, and you found yourself next to a shallow pool, no larger than a hottub, out of view of the highway. It was quiet, and none of the tourists had followed you up even half as high. You were very much alone together. 

He pulled off his shirt and glasses, tossing them on one of the towels, and went to shuck off his pants and boots. You raised your eyebrows,

“What are you doing?”

He looked up at you, knowing he was shocking you a bit,

“Braw days like this don’t come often. You heard the baker, yeah? The days go by fast. Live a little, mo mhèirleach.”

There was that nickname again. You vowed that you would look it up online later, if only you would be able to spell it. 

“Johnny, we can’t just swim here, surely. Someone will come and -”

“And what? Tell us to get out?”

He dunked his head under the clear pool and came back up for air, panting from the chill of the fresh water.

“I don’t have a swimsuit…” You put the bag of treats down and sat on the edge of the pool.

“Aren’tcha wearing any knickers, mhèirleach? Gods, say no, hen. Say no…” He swam up next to you to tease you some more. 

“I am!” You told him, and he gave you a look, rolling his eyes. 

“Well, go on, bonnie. I’ll even turn around, since you’re savin’ yourself for our wedding bed and all tha’.”

You laughed in disbelief, unsure of everything and yet going along with his plan anyway. You waited for him to avert his eyes before pulling off your pants and as you went to take off your top, you thought you saw him peek under his lashes, but he averted his gaze again so quickly, you couldn’t be sure. 

You dipped a foot into the pool. It was cool but not cold. You could stand it, but you wanted to complain a little anyway. 

“Jesus, it’s cold in here. Brr!” You feigned a shiver. 

“Och, c’mon, lassie. It’s no’ tha’ bad. Here. Have a wee seat by me, and I’ll get some drinks to warm us up.”

He popped the cap on the ciders using the edge of a rock, and handed you one. You drank it, savoring the dry, apple taste and soft fizz.

“There, mhèirleach. All better?”

You nodded, sitting next to him in the pool and laying your head back on the large stones, relaxing, taking in the view. It looked like something you would put on your laptop screen. It was unreal. 

“You made a pretty good Hamish today,” you complimented him.

“Spent a lot of my life pretending to be other people. Comes natural at this point, ye ken?” He stared off at the mountains with you, enjoying the view. 

“I’m sure you’re ready to be back in the action instead of tasting cakes with your sister’s American friend,” self-deprication was your bread and butter, so you offered it up to him to punish yourself with. 

“No,” he turned his eyes away from the grandeur and focused them on you, “What did Pidge tell you about me?”

“Well, she…”

“Ah ah, no. Don’t sugar-coat it.”

You sighed, looking into your cider for courage,

“She told me not to let you get too close. Said you’re a bit of a playboy.”

He laughed in a bitter way, taking a sip of his cider,

“Did she, now? And what do you believe, hen?”

You paused, not knowing what to say. So, you just told the truth,

“I think she’s probably right. I don’t know why she’d lie to me. And Bekah and Cherise -”

“Bekah and Cherise are full of shite. And so is my wee sister.”

He shook his head, clearly upset by your appraisal. You stayed silent, not knowing what to say. You decided to try to lighten the mood,

“Bet you take all the pretty girls to this spot, playboy.”

You elbowed him in the ribs, and he spun on you, quick as a shot. He grabbed your arm that had elbowed him and faced you, standing in front of you in the clear water. It rushed along his chest, moving around the plump muscles and dusting of chest hair, matting it against his skin. He smelled so much like oranges right then, and it was invading your senses. 

He ignored your attempt at a joke, and his face became serious instead,

“I ken why she kept you from me now. You’re off-limits. She knew how I’d feel. My sister knows me better than anyone, and I hate her for it.”

“Hate her?” You tried to understand what he was saying, but you didn’t pull away. His breath smelled like alcohol and apples and his eyes gleamed in the low light of the afternoon sun. 

“Well, not hate, maybe. But, she must’ve known. She had to.”

“Known what?” You knew what. Some animal part inside of you bared its teeth and warned you, but you asked it anyway. 

“She knew I’d like you.”

It was so quiet in your little secluded glade. 

He pressed his hands to the sides of your face, staring into your eyes, looking into them, his own eyes searching them for an answer to a question you couldn’t hear. 

You let him kiss you. You even kissed him back. He was cinnamon and apples and cake and sugar and tobacco and some other human taste that you chased and chased and chased. 

Then, you pulled away.

“We can’t. I…I promised.”

“Aye, as did I. But, she’s a hypocrite.”

“She’s my best friend.”

He looked into your eyes and saw your desperation there, knowing he’d won but surrendering anyway. 

Johnny let you go and finished his drink in a single gulp. He sat behind you, and you didn’t turn around. You felt him pull you into his lap to sit on the rough stone ledge, and he whispered,

“Tell me the sonnet you like, bonnie. You said you studied it.”

You tried to make excuses, not in the mood to show off,

“It’s not a very good one. A lot of people -”

“Say it for me. C’mon, lass. Just this once. I promise I’ll bring you back to your friend. But, just this once…”

You paused, feeling his arms wrap around you, not too tight, and nothing inappropriate, hugging you to himself platonically, waiting. You cleared your throat and tried to enunciate,

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make, Breathed forth the sound that said ‘I hate’, To me that languished for her sake…

His fingers made little circles on your ribcage, rubbing your skin beneath the water. 

“But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom; And taught it thus anew to greet…”

You grabbed his hand with your own, lacing your fingers together like a tied knot.

“‘I hate’ she altered with an end, That followed it as gentle day, Doth follow night, who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flown away. ‘I hate’, from hate away she threw, And saved my life, saying ‘not you’.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. You couldn’t breathe. Johnny MacTavish liked you, and you couldn’t do anything about it. 

“Thank you, mo mhèirleach. Time to take you back. Been away with the fairies too long, I ken.”

The drive back was quiet. You held hands through the mountains. You let go as you pulled into the driveway. Your bones ached. Your wet bra and panties were making you cold, and you had tangles in your wet hair from the drive. 

Johnny had left his phone in the Jeep cupholder, so you grabbed it along with the wet towels you had used. Pidge came out of the house to greet you and help with the bags, 

“Jesus! What happened to you two?”

“Caught in the rain. Here’s your contract, Pidgie. I need a shower,” he covered for you.

“Roger’s here,” she reported. 

Roger was Hamish’s younger brother, just a teenager. Johnny paused, looking at Pidge with a hard stare,

“And where’s he gonna sleep? We cannae put the lad on the floor, Bridgette.”

“You sleep on the floor then, you numpty,” she slapped his arm.

You interjected, torturing yourself,

“We can sleep in his bed. It’s not a big deal. It’s just for a few nights. Is that alright with you, Johnny?”

Pidge was standing between you, so she missed the pale face of fear plastered with Johnny’s open, shocked mouth.

“Shite, are you sure, babe? He snores like a bear.”

You nodded,

“No worries.”

“Johnny MacTavish, I swear on -”

“Go ‘way an’ bile your heid with that shite, Pigeon. I’m not in the mood to be your whippin’ boy.”

He walked into the house, leaving you outside with your best friend, just as he promised.

Something vibrated in your hands. It was Johnny’s phone. He had one missed call from Bekah, and as you were dismissing it, trying to close the lock screen, you saw her text pop up in the banner bar:

Ettrick’s for pints again, Soap? xx

You felt a cold shiver tremble through you as you followed Pidge inside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Notes:

mo chridhe (moh HREE-yuh) - my heart mo mhèirleach (moh MER-lakh) - my thief

Chapter 04

[incorrect-kidge-quotes]

Went through my notes and found an old drabble titled

"Pidge (sort of) regrets going to the girls for advice [about Keith]" (as if that needed to be specified😂😂)

Further notes to myself indicate it was inspired by a reddit post seemingly built around the idea of "Tricks that guys don't realize girls do". Anyways, I do hope you all enjoy this little bit if nonsense!

-------------------------------

"You really want to know how to drive a man insane while at the same time giving him more reasons to keep seeing you?" Ezor asked with a sly tone.

Pidge cocked her head to the side out of curiosity "What's that?"

Ezor walked over to Pidge's dresser, she began throwing out boxers and loose fitting underwear, as well as chest bindings all over the floor of Pidge's bedroom. The younger girl got flustered and quickly started picking everything up while the rest of the girls laugh. "Well, first we need to go shopping for you. Why don't you have anything to show off your curves, like a thong or something?"

Pidge gestures to her whole body before crossing her arms in a pout. "What curves? It's not like I have any to show off..." Pidge muttered.

"That's not true at all, Pidge." Allura affirmed her friend.

"Yeah, if you weren't too busy putting yourself down and wearing nothing but baggy clothes all the time, you'd see the curves you've really grown into. I know Keith has." Ezor winked at Pidge.

"I have no idea what you're talking about..." Pidge stuttered out, her face slowly turning pink.

"Of course you don't," Ezor rolled her eyes playfully "but mistress of seduction and flirtation that I am, I see all, and anytime you enter the room I see him eyeing you up and down, even more so than you do him, and I can tell he's using every ounce of self-control in that well-built body of his that you love to stare at, and not let his Galra blood flair up and take you to his room asap. Maybe a broom closet since y'all are both so desperate for each other. "

At this point, Zethrid, Romelle, Nadia and even Acxa couldn't help but burst into laughter. Allura, to her credit, was at least trying to stifle her own laughter.

"Sh-shut up!" Pidge stuttered out, her blush getting more red by the second. "Are you going to tell me why you were ransacking my underwear in the first place?'

"Eh, sure, why not? I had my fun teasing you," Ezor said as she sat back down on the bed. "Next time it rains, and I mean a real downpour, you're going to go over to Keith's and get absolutely drenched in the process. He is going to offer his clothes (because as socially inept as he his, he's still somewhat of a gentleman) and you're going to wear said clothes, and when you go home you'll conveniently leave your underwear behind while still wearing the clothes he offered you. He'll find said underwear, and will of course want to return them to you and retrieve his clothea in the process, but if they're something you wouldn't normally wear, like say, a sexy red and black lace thong and bra (obviously because those are his colors and you want to get inside his head as much as possible), he won't be able to resist picturing you in said underwear the entire time."

"He'll give them to you, just so he can take them right back off you." Ezor smirked.

"So... who's car are we taking to the mall, and when's the next storm?"

[sukoshininja]

Outta Time

"We're not gonna make it."

Lance gritted his teeth as he held his breath as he lined up the sights and delivered a clean headshot. He did not come this far to have it end here. He would see this through.  "We're gonna make it. We have to."

"Lance."

It was just his name. But something about the way it was said. Just one word, but the sadness, acceptance, and firm finality of it. It was the truth, and it hit him hard enough that he lowered his rifle a hair. 

No. He shook his head and repositioned the barrel along his cheekbone. No, they could fight this, they could still make it out. "We just gotta--"

"Lance."

Now inflected with brokenness, a pathetic urgency. Suddenly he had to remember how to breathe. He missed his next two shots.  

"They won't, not while we're still inside."

But the funny thing was, somewhere in his mind he knew that wasn't true. They had waited so long for a chance like this, a chance that they were never going to get again. His comrades, they'd have no choice. He knew it but chose to believe they would wait anyway. Because if he didn't--

"Lance." 

Oh. He knew a spirit shattering when he heard it. His lungs were convulsing. Was he breathing?  His hands were trembling so hard he could barely hold his gun. 

A hand reached out and guided the gun down. "It's over."

Lance wrenched his attention away from the advancing enemy to see the most devastating thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Keith looked at him so tenderly, tears running streaks down his face that was mussed with grime and blood. So this is what giving up looked like. 

"Breathe, Lance."

Casualties were a part of this great game known as war. They all knew it could come at any moment. But for some reason Lance didn't think the day would come when his card would be up.

Why was Keith holding him so tight? What were those sounds? Like a dying sheep. Wait. That was him. Oh he was sobbing. Screaming. 

Keith cradled his head against his chest.

"It mattered. Everything mattered," he whispered, soft and soothing despite coming from his cracked lips. "If nothing else, you matter to me."

There was a weight on Lance's chest, making it so that he had to gasp for breath. His heart to beat so fast he was sure it would burst. The corners of his vision started to fade to black as all the sounds closed in around him. 

Only Keith's rough voice, quiet and calming made a lifeline that Lance desperately grasped for, keeping himself afloat. 

"Holy shit. We're gonna die, and you'll never know because I never told you."

Lance's tongue felt too big for his mouth, dead weight and useless. Somehow, he managed to ask "Told me what."

"That your smile lights up the universe more than a thousand suns. That everything sucks to the point that somedays I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, but I do, because I get to see you, and when I'm with you everything is a little less awful. That I break every time you look at her."

Lance was able to focus his eyes. Too bright lights. It took all he was to look into those impossibly beautiful, red-rimmed watery eyes. 

"Lance I lo--"

*   *   *

They won.

Ten thousand years of oppression had come to an end with that blast.

Allura and Coran clung to each other as they watched the waves of radiation wipe out the end of the empire.

Hunk stood as still as a statue. Tears streaking down his cheeks. 

"They were still down there," Pidge whispered as they collapsed to their knees on the cold floor. 

It took everything in Shiro to keep his intestines from emptying out his mouth. The bile was there, bitter and biting.

It was necessary. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. That's what they would say. He would be applauded. A hero. But only the people in this room would see it as it really was:  a choice.

A choice that was easier than it should have been. Cruelly quick and almost as thoughtless. He had the rest of his life to mourn. He hoped it wasn't long.

my whumptober masterlist

[rorimoon9597]

Pt 1 Pt 2

----------

Lance turns out to be a huge help as Keith's right hand. When he's overworking himself, Lance is there to force him to bed. If Keith's having a bad day, then Lance is there as silent support.

It makes Keith fall in love with him even more.

And the fact that Lance was determined to keep up his game with his eye colour. Keith admired the dedication to keeping everyone confused. So much so that sometimes, when they meet with the leaders of a planet, his eye colour changes more frequently. The looks on the aliens faces when Pidge explains that Humans can't change their eye, skin or hair colour at will is priceless.

Keith begins to feel as if he will burst if he doesn't do anything about these feelings soon. It takes having to fight Lotor to do that.

They're all in the castle, resting. They were so, incredibly lucky that Lotor wasn't able to go into the Quintessence field, that they were able to stop him. Sure, he was dead now, but better for a tyrant to be dead than alive still.

Krolia had fussed over him when he got back. Romelle nearly cried and clung to him. Coran had hugged all of them.

Then, perhaps the weirdest part of the day, Allura was able to bring back Shiro. Who had one less arm again. Keith had cried with relief at having his actual brother back.

They were floating through space, resting after the fight, and Keith was never one for resting. Even during his self-imposed exile to the shack in the desert he'd had things to do.

So he decided to go check up on Shiro.

"Hey," he said. Shiro looked up from where he was glaring at the bowl of food goo he'd been given.

"Hey, Keith. Do you need something?" He asked.

"You... Could say that." Keith walked into the room and sat on the bed with Shiro. Kosmo, his wolf that would now only respond to that name that Pidge had given him, joined them, lying on the floor.

"Is something wrong?" Shiro asked. Keith sighed.

"I'm so gay, Shiro," he said. Shiro laughed. Keith glared at him.

"I knew that already."

"Uh, yeah, because I came to you and Shiro when I had a gay crisis and needed help."

"Why are you telling me something that I already know?"

"Because! My crush on Lance has gotten worse. I love him now, Shiro. It's not just a crush anymore." Shiro gave Keith a sympathetic look.

"That's the hardest part. Even for me, and I knew that Adam's gay, too." Shiro placed his had on Keith's shoulder. "Don't wait for too long, Keith, or you'll lose your chance. Trust me on that. I waited too long with my first crush, and he ended up moving away and I never saw him again. Tell him when you think that the time is right."

"How do you know all this? Didn't you tell Adam that you liked him when you were sleep deprived?" Keith asked.

"Not the point, Keith. I'm trying to be a good brother to you, and part of being a good brother is to give my younger brother relationship advice," Shiro replied. Keith rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," he said. Shiro moved his hand to ruffle his hair.

"Trust me on this, Keith. I have actually been in a relationship before." Keith can't help but smile at those words.

"I will," he agrees.

_______

They being their journey to Earth soon after that. On the way there, they pick up Matt, Rollo, Nyma and Beezer and tell them about the whole ordeal with Shiro.

"I knew that something was off! His hair floof and eyeliner were wrong!" Matt shouted triumphantly. Pidge just shook her head at her brother. Then she dragged him off to Green's hangar to start designing a new arm for Shiro.

They still had some pit stops before Earth. One of those was to pick up some of the Olkari, who were going to help with the defense system on Earth.

After they picked up Matt, Romelle asked the question that Keith had been expecting.

"What is up with Lance's eyes?" She asked.

"I have been wondering about that as well," Krolia agreed.

"We don't know, but we have a betting pool," Pidge replied. Keith rolled his eyes.

"You get far too much enjoyment out of this," he said. Then he turned and left.

He'd let them suffer if they really wanted to.

[bagerfluff]

Sleepy Confessions

Pidge Gunderson/Katie Holt x Male Reader

Prompt - Sleep Talking

Y/n walked around the castle looking for Pidge. They hadn’t shown up to dinner, and Y/n was worried about his techie wizard. Pidge had a thing for getting so involved in their work that they forgot to do simple things like eating, bathing, and sleeping.

So Y/n took it upon himself to remind the green paladin to take care of themself. But that was hard when Y/n couldn’t find Pidge. Y/n had just walked out of the training room. Having left quickly once, he saw that Keith was training. Now, he was on the way to the kitchen. 

Y/n knew that Hunk was in the kitchen. Probably cooking dessert for everyone. “Hey Hunk. Have you seen Pidge?” Y/n asked once he entered the kitchen. “No I haven’t. But I know they have been working on the green lion, so maybe check their hanger”

Hunk pointed out. “Thanks Hunk” Y/n said with a smile as he walked out. “When you find them, tell them that I saved them some dinner!” Hunk yelled out after Y/n. Y/n gave Hunk a thumbs up before speed walking over to the Green Lions hanger.

Y/n reached the hanger quickly and slowed down once he got closer to the door. The door automatically opened when Y/n got close enough and closed when Y/n entered the room. Y/n looked around the room. He saw the green lion curled up in the center of the hanger.

Y/n walked over and around the lion, and what he saw made him smile. Curled up in the middle of the lion was Pidge. They were leaning against the lions stomach, and Y/n thought that must not be that comfortable.

In Pidge’s lap was their laptop that looked like it was about to fall off. Y/n quickly ran forward and grabbed the laptop before it fell. Y/n then placed the laptop on the floor before looking over that Pidge. Pidge looked adorable. Their hair was all over the place from sleeping against their lion.

Their glasses were slanted from the fact that their head was tilted to the left. Y/n thought Pidge looked cute like this. Y/n thought Pidge always looked cute. Ever since Y/n first saw them in Garrison. But he never admitted it. He thought Pidge didn’t like them back. 

Y/n realized that they should probably get Pidge to their bed. Y/n was getting up, but he heard something coming from Pidge. It sounded like his name. “Yes Pidge?” Y/n asked as he kneeled back down in front of Pidge. When Pidge said nothing, Y/n thought he might be hearing things.

But he heard it again shortly after trying to get up again. It was then that Y/n realized that Pidge was sleeping talking. Y/n let out a little laugh at that and shook his head. Could Pidge get any cuter? But it was then that Y/n heard Pidge say something else. 

“Y/n” Pidge whispered. Y/n couldn’t help but turn his head to it. “I love you” Y/n’s eyes widened at that. Was Pidge telling the truth? Surely not. Pidge was asleep. Pidge was speaking nonsense. But Y/n’s heart still fluttered at the words. The words he had wanted to hear for months, maybe years. Y/n shook his head and picked Pidge up. Pidge was just asleep. It meant nothing.

It was the next morning when Y/n decided to talk to Pidge about what they said when they were asleep. Once Y/n had gotten Pidge back to their room, Y/n had tried to go to sleep, but he couldn’t. He kept thinking about it. Y/n barely got enough sleep.

He was dead tired when it was breakfast time. He didn’t really eat. Catching the attention of his other paladins. Nobody said anything. But Y/n did notice the stares. Y/n told everyone that he was fine and they believed him. Y/n lied, but only a bit.

Y/n was fine. He was just a little tired. That happens to everyone at least a few times a month. But he was thinking. He wanted to know if Pidge meant what they said. Pidge didn’t show up to breakfast, but everyone assumed that they were still sleeping.

Once breakfast was finished, everyone went off to do their own things. But Y/n stayed as the table. Thinking. A few minutes later, Pidge walked to the table and sat down next to Y/n. They immediately started eating a plate of food that Hunk had left them.

Neither Pidge nor Y/n said anything while Pidge was eating. It was only when Pidge started to leave that Y/n called out their name. “Yes Y/n?” They said when they looked back towards Y/n. Y/n got up and walked over to Pidge. “You talked in your sleep” Y/n informed Pidge. Pidge nodded.

They had been told that they did that. Pidge kinda hated it. “But you said” Y/n stopped there. Wondering if he should really continue his sentence. But if he never asked, Y/n would probably think about this for months.

“You said you loved me” Y/n confused. At that Pidge looked down and fixed their glasses. “I see,” Pidge whispered. “Do you love me?” Y/n asked as he walked closer to Pidge. Pidge looked up at Y/n before nodding.

Y/n smiled as he brought Pidge into a hug. Pidge was shocked. “I love you too” Y/n confessed as he placed a kiss on Pidge’s forehead. Pidge blushed a bit before hugging Y/n back. Y/n smiled as he hugged Pidge closer.

He loved his little sleep talker.

[moonlight0934]

Spare Me

Keith wakes up to find Shiro shaking him.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Come on, we’re having a team meeting.”

Keith pulls himself out of the incredibly soft bed that he’s been occupying since they started negotiations with another planet. Allura and Shiro have been taking point, so the rest of them have just been twiddling their thumbs for the most part. Everyone else is already there when Shiro and Keith walk in. Keith feels like he’s still half asleep, but he tries to straighten up. Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder, an easygoing smile still plastered on his face.

“So, we have a few things that we need to do, and we’ve already discussed who is going to do what with some of it. Hunk and Pidge are going to get a few parts to finish fixing the castle. I’m going to follow behind them with the castle so we can just fix it as soon as they get the pieces. Shiro is going to pick up supplies from the nearest space mall, and someone is going to go with him.

Either Keith or Lance, and the other one is going to stay here. Whoever stays here isn’t going to have to do anything other than keep an eye on things. We need to reassure them that we’re going to come back to finish negotiations, but if we wait any longer, the castle won’t be able to get out of the atmosphere.”

“Ok, so you want one of us to stay here as collateral?” Keith asks.

“Kind of, yes. If you’re really uncomfortable, we can talk to the rulers, and we can stick you with one of the groups.”

“I want to go with Shiro,” Lance says, looking excited.

Keith frowns, folding his arms.

“Come on, you do solo stuff with Shiro all the time,” Lance whines once he sees Keith’s response.

“That’s because Shiro likes me,” Keith replies, smirking.

Shiro clears his throat.

“Come on, you two, play nice.”

“Sorry, that was unnecessary. You can go with Shiro. I’m fine with that. I’ll stay here as long as you’re sure that there isn’t any danger in that,” Keith says, slightly leaning against Shiro.

“I’m completely sure that these people will not harm you in any way. We even talked about the Blade, and they thought that it was a really good thing. So, even if they somehow do figure out about the other, you won’t be in any danger.”

Keith hums.

“Yeah, I’m fine with that. So, when are you guys leaving?”

“Later today. We’re leaving right after lunch.”

“Ok, well then, I’m going back to sleep. Shiro, wake me up before you leave?”

Shiro nods, then kisses Keith on the top of the head.

“I’ll see you later, Otouto.”

Keith hums again as he walks back out. He goes back to his room, and drops back into his bed. He sleeps until Shiro comes to wake him up. Shiro gives him a sandwich.

“Here you go, buddy. There’s lunch, and we’re going to head out now. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Can you stay until I’m fully awake? I don’t like being vulnerable by myself. I still don’t think anything’s going to happen, but just to be safe.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Shiro sits with Keith while he eats his sandwich, and fully wakes up. Then he leaves, and Keith spends the rest of the day in his room. He goes out that night, taking a walk around the castle grounds. He speaks with a few people, but they’re mostly just checking that he’s good, and that he doesn’t need anything.

He doesn’t get much sleep that night, so he’s out early for another walk. This time he doesn’t head back to his room immediately, he just keeps circling the property. It’s odd seeing the castle gone, and knowing that he’s alone. Red is gone too, and far enough away that he can barely feel their connection. Eventually there’s a loud noise, which sounds like a ship landing. So, Keith looks up, and his heart sinks when he realizes that it’s a fleet that’s descending on them.

Keith races back into the castle to warn the guards, who immediately get ready to fight. However, they’re completely outnumbered, and it ends up being a very one sided fight. Though when Keith is taken hostage, he is minimally injured. He’s unconscious for all of the traveling, and he doesn’t recognize the kind of cell that he’s in when he wakes up.

Where am I?

Blood coats his hairline, but the cut he got isn’t actively bleeding, so Keith puts it out of his mind. He starts pacing the cell, trying to find any weaknesses, or a way out. He’s alone for hours before the cell door opens. A Galran soldier throws clothes at Keith.

“Change. If you’re not changed in five minutes when I come back, I will make you.”

The cell door closes again, and Keith changes quickly. It’s the same attire that any of the Galra’s prisoners have had on when they were rescued. The soldier comes back a few minutes later with a few other prisoners in tow. He pushes Keith into the hallway, and they’re all brought to this hallway. Keith is confused for a minute before realizing where he is.

Well, good news is, they must not have realized that I’m a Paladin of Voltron yet. The negative is that I’m pretty sure this is either the arena that Shiro was held captive at, or one that’s very similar.

Keith is picked to fight almost immediately, and the guard is grinning at him viscously.

“He’s going to be eaten alive,” he whispers to his colleague guarding the entranceway to the arena.

Keith steps out, gently gripping the knife that he was given. It’s around the same size as his knife.

I think I left that on the castle. Allura said that I shouldn’t take a knife onto the planet since I wasn’t in my armor, and had no defense for why I had it. Though I guess it’s a good thing now.

Keith looks around at the stands full of people. They’re all screaming and cheering.

“Now for our current champion, Nova!”

A really ugly troll like alien comes out of the gate opposite Keith. Keith narrows his eyes, taking in how he moves, and how he holds his weight. He has a club too, letting it drag along the ground behind him. Nova locks eyes with Keith, and smiles. He seems to think that Keith is going to be an easy target too with how he seems to relax.

That’s only going to work in my favor. He seems to be leaning more towards his right leg, and isn’t too worried about his center of balance. I guess I can try to get him to gain some momentum, and then try to tip him into a wall. I’m not sure how thick his skull is, but a hard enough knock should do the trick.

People are screaming for Nova now, and he’s lumbering towards Keith. He’s grinning now, showing off his disgusting yellow teeth. Keith shifts his weight, making sure that neither of his legs are injured, or even slightly asleep. As much as he’d love to say that he would have known that already, he hasn’t really been paying too much attention to what his body has been telling him. Once he’s sure that he’s completely steady, he races across the arena away from Nova.

Everyone is screaming even louder now, sure that Keith is just trying to get away. However, they all know that there isn’t anywhere to get away to. Keith lets them think that, and Nova picks up speed. He’s much faster than Keith thought he would be, and he picks up speed quickly. He’s not quite as fast as Keith though, so Keith slows down a little bit. Then he speeds up right as Nova is about to reach him.

He keeps Nova right behind him until he comes up on another wall. Then he switches direction at the last second, and runs right beside Nova. He jams his knife into Nova’s right leg, completely throwing him off balance. He slams full force into the wall, and Keith is barely able to keep his hands around the handle of the knife. It rips a bunch of skin and blood out of Nova’s leg too. Nova roars, and swings his club around even though he’s obviously barely able to see.

Keith dodges, and then slams the hilt of the knife into Nova’s head. Nova goes quiet for a second, mostly unconscious. He looks at Keith, and Keith sees fear in his eyes once he realizes that he can’t pick his club back up.

“Please don’t kill me. Spare me, please. I’m begging, don’t kill me. I just want to go home.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Keith says, taking a step back.

The stadium has gone quiet, everyone in the stands too shocked to fully comprehend what’s going on. Nova’s eyes brighten slightly with how sincere Keith sounds.

“Were you ever planning on killing me?”

Keith shakes his head.

“Who are you?”

Keith doesn’t respond, not really sure how to. Then the crowd starts screaming for him to kill Nova, the guy they were just cheering for minutes ago. Keith looks around, his chest getting tight. He takes a few steps back, and the crowd begins to boo. One of the guards walks over, and cuts Nova’s throat. Keith’s eyes widen as the man walks over to him. He grabs Keith’s wrist, and drags him back out.

“I did that as a courtesy. If you ever fail to kill your opponent after you beat them again, you will be executed along with them.”

He snatches the knife out of Keith’s hands. He turns back to the other guard while Keith’s eyes stay fixed on his bloody hands.

[bluedemon1995]

Kidge Fall Event 2024-Late but still committed!

Sorry about the lateness but hopefully can catch up one day

Oct 23-Keith birthday

Keith heard a buzz. Then another. And another. Ugh. That’s right, today was his birthday. He rolled over, ignoring the demand of the phone and tried to go back to sleep. Keith hated his birthday. When he was younger his dad would make a big deal out of it. Chocolate chip pancakes. Breakfast in bed. No school, cause his dad would always keep him home. Guy time. They would go hiking or they would spend the day at the fire house. His best birthdays really were just a day they spent together.

But then, it ended. He was alone and no one acknowledged it. And he never really told people his birthday. Instead, he wanted to forget. Push it out of his mind. Obviously, people knew but he never did anything special. Fast forward to this year. He knew his mom wanted to do something, but he just couldn’t.

That said, Keith dug into bed, pulled up the covers tight and went back to sleep.

Lance on the other hand, grinned Operation KB is in effect! He knew his friend wanted to hide for his birthday, but those days were over! He now knew everyone’s birthday, signs and rising moons. There was no way Keith was going to hide ALL day.

He sent the group message.

*Mission on. Everyone knows their part. Team Voltron!”

Shiro grinned, thinking Keith had no idea of what was in store for him.

Hunk started cooking and baking. He had a list of food for each paladin, what they liked and didn’t. Keith was going to eat well today!

Katie nodded. She had a clear job to do.

Keith woke to a bounce. Slowly opening his eyes, he squinted in the light…and saw a pixie?

“Dude, is this new? Sleeping until noon?” Katie murmured. She risked a hand and patted his head gently. She always thought people weren’t gentle enough with him.

Keith blinked. “Katie?” Shit, quickly changing gears he continued, “Pidge, hat are you doing here?”

Before she replied, Keith realized he was only in his boxers. FUCKKKKKK.

“Well, hello to you to. SOOOO glad you stopped by. And, sure I’d love for you to show me around my first time on the Underworld.”

Keith blinked. Was this the first time she was on the ship? Crap. “So, um, I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“Yup. Kolivan asked for my help with your tech and of course, as I’m here there is some issue that made him Un-Av-able. Whatever.”

Keith nods. “Um, okay. I can be ready in 30 if you want to come back?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Katie quickly remembered Lance’s instructions. “I’ll just let Griffin know that I’m free for a bit. Take your time. He was my ride ya know? So, we came here together.”

Keith froze. No. No way in hell. “Yeah, um, no worries. You know, you don’t need to leave. I’ll just um, get ready in a minute and we can do whatever. Is he um, your ride back? Because Cosmo can take you back when you are done. In fact, where is he? We can just tell him now- he can get back to base. I’m sure he’s got stuff he needs to do.”

Katie tried to hide her grin. She had no clue how Lance knew he would dig in but, luckily, it was dark in his room. “Oh, okay, I’ll let him know. Why don’t you get dressed? Let’s get this show on the road.”

Keith nodded, jumping up, he once again realized a second too late that he was in his boxers. Feeling his face heat, he quickly grabbed some clothes and ran into the bathroom.

As he took a quick shower, his thoughts were filled with her. She cut her hair again, it was in a cute messy short hair style. No glasses she must be feeling comfortable. With fucking Griffin. Annoyed, he quickly dried off, absently wondering who else came with them. And damn did she smell good. No lie, it was his favorite scent.

He quickly threw on his clothes and brushed his teeth. Where should he show her first? Maybe they should get breakfast. Then they could see Kolivan and his mom. No, what was he thinking, the lab or the tech room might be a better bet. He opened the door and froze. She was laying on his bed, shoes off, holo screen in hand. Her head on his pillow, her foot absently swinging in time to something only she heard. Her scent in head. His hand itched to touch. His lips itched to taste.

In that moment, he thought back to his dad telling him on a camping trip, “Hey kiddo, it’s your birthday, you don’t need any candles or cake. Make a wish and it will come true. Birthday magic.”

He closed his eyes and wished…he wanted, wished to have Katie forever.

[autisticlancemcclain]

God, sunlight feels so good. Lance missed it. It’s really such a nice way to wake up. Warm sunbeams on your bare skin, a gentle brightening of the room; God, it even makes the room smell better… it sucks so bad that his room in the castle doesn’t have any windows. He’s so glad to finally be getting some now.

Lance shoots awake in a panic.

He should not be feeling sunlight on his skin right now.

He takes a half second to wake up fully, taking in the clean white sheets tangled around his hips, the sterile boringness of the room, the giant window with a sparkly view.

Oh, right. They stopped on what was essentially a Vegas planet yesterday to get a specific part for one of the castle’s reactors, and then he, Hunk, and Pidge convinced Shiro to let them hit the casinos for a bit.

The rest of the night is a blur.

“What the fuck did I do last night?” Lance mumbles, shifting around to stretch a bit. His hip bumps into a lump in the bed — a person-sized lump — and the movement makes him suddenly aware of a soreness in his rear.

His face heats up.

Oh.

That’s what he was doing last night.

Makes sense, he supposes. Drunk Lance is either extremely affectionate or extremely horny, so it was really only a matter of time. He rubs his eyes, then drags his hand down his face. Fuck. He’s gonna have a helluva time explaining this one to the team.

Fuck!

With a renewed panic, he throws himself out of the bed, tripping out of the sheets and looking around desperately for his clothes. Fuck fuck fuck! He is supposed to be on the castle right now!

He finally manages to locate his boxers, yanking them up his legs as he checks his watch. 5:13. Okay, not ideal, but no one’s usually awake before seven, so if he grabs some coffee or something on his way in he should be able to make it without making anyone suspicious —

“Lance, please shut the fuck up,” mumbles a grouchy voice, tinged with sleep, and Lance’s heart drops to his throat.

“Keith?!”

Keith drags himself upright, black hair a rat’s nest around his head, and glares heavily, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“What part of shut the fuck up do you not understand, God, it’s like your voice is actively bashing into my head —”

Lance registers the exact second Keith awakes fully, because his eyes widen and he yelps, yanking the sheets up his chest.

“Oh my God!”

“Oh, drop the fucking sheet,” Lance snaps, face flaming. “It’s obviously not something I haven’t seen before.”

Keith thankfully does let go of the sheet, using his hands to yank on his hair instead.

“Fuck,” he says, turning panicked eyes to Lance. “Oh, we fucked up, we fucked up good —”

“Why, thank you, Keith, that’s oh so lovely to hear from you in this situation —”

“Fuck, we gotta call Shiro —”

Lance abandons his search for pants and lunges towards Keith, yanking the comm out of his hands and throwing it randomly behind him.

“Are you cracked in the fucking head,” he hisses.

“My comm!” Keith cries. He throws off the sheets and stumbles in vague direction Lance threw it, ass fucking naked.

“Put some goddamn pants on!” Lance shouts, whipping a pillow at Keith’s chest and frantically looking away, pretending his did not just get and eyeful and that said eyeful was not an objectively kind of a nice one.

“Piss off,” Keith snaps, face red, but dutifully locates his pants and puts them on before continuing. “I’m calling Shiro now.”

Resisting the urge to tackle the thick-headed dumbass to the ground, Lance forces himself to stay where he is.

“Do you want to be lectured for three straight days?” he demands.

That makes Keith pause. “It won’t be that long.”

“Sure, but then what? He’s going to be mad, Keith. Or at least disappointed. And you know we’ll be assigned the most boring missions possible until he forgets about it, and who knows how long that will take?”

Keith hesitates a moment, then sighs, giving up on his search for his comm and flopping back on the bed.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, face muffled in a pillow. “This sucks. And my head hurts.”

Lance reaches out, pressing his hand to Keith’s forehead — it’s definitely a little hot. Keith groans, wrapping his hand around Lance’s wrist and holding tightly.

“God, your fingers are freezing. Do not move them.”

Despite the situation, Lance smiles, brushing his fingers carefully through Keith’s fringe.

“Let me go. I have painkillers and peppermint oil in my jacket pocket, it should help.”

“Mmf. Fine.”

As soon as Lance’s hand is relinquished, he pulls away, hunting around the mess on the floor for his clothes. He finds his jeans first, but can’t find his shirt — only Keith’s black one, and a white shirt with some text on it.

“Keith?” he calls, pulling it on and tilting his head down to read it. “Why has my shirt been replaced with one that reads ‘SEAT RESERVED FOR DILFS’ with an arrow pointing to my face?”

Keith props himself up his elbows, squints at the shirt, and then winces.

“I may have,” he says reluctantly, “the faintest memory of throwing up on your shirt. So. I imagine you replaced it.”

Lance pouts. “Aw, man. I liked that shirt.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. You are getting me a new shirt that I can wear without getting mocked, though.”

“Noted. What’s the ETA on that advil, by the way?”

“Coming, Mr. Impatience,” Lance mumbles, finally locating his jacket. (Thankfully Keith didn’t throw up on that, or Lance would have to kill him.) He digs around in his pockets, finding the peppermint oil where it usually is, but not the advil. He flips his other pockets inside out, and thankfully the bottle comes tumbling out, along with two slips of paper. He hands to pills to Keith, along with a bottle of water and the oil, and then reads the papers curiously.

His eyes widen.

“Keith,” he says, voice strained, “I have some very good news, and then some very bad news.”

“Good news first,” Keith says immediately.

Predictable.

Lance hands Keith the smaller slip of paper. Keith squints again, harder this time, bringing the paper close to his face.

Lance rolls his eyes.

“Coran had reading glasses made for you, you know. Months ago. How many times have I told them to bring them with you places?”

“I don’t need them,” Keith insists, paper perhaps an inch from his face. “I’m just — hungover.”

“Okay, dumbass.”

It takes Keith a second to read it — really, Lance might start carting around his glasses for him — and then his eyes get just as wide as Lance were.

“That’s a lot of zeros,” he says quietly.

Lance snorts. “Sure is. Apparently we’re very good at card games when we’re drunk. Or very lucky at one game.”

“Apparently,” Keith agrees. He looks back down at the paper, whistling. “You’re gonna have a hard time finding bad news bad enough to beat this, I think.”

Lance grimaces. He glances down at the bigger, fancier paper, then hands it to Keith.

“I really don’t think so.”

This paper is a lot easier for him to read — it would be hard for him to miss the giant ‘CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE’ printed in bold at the top of it.

“Oh, shit,” he says weakly. He glances at Lance’s hands. “I guess that explains why you’re wearing my dad’s ring.”

Lance stares at his left hand in horror, where, on his fourth finger, shines a red stone inlaid in heavy gold — Keith’s father’s ring, that he’s never once taken off his pinky in all the time Lance has known him.

“Fuck!” Lance exclaims, immediately taking it off to give back to Keith. He knows how much that ring means to him.

Only — the ring isn’t coming off.

“I can’t get it off,” Lance says, looking at Keith in a panic. Keith looks back, just as freaked.

“It’s stuck?”

“No, it’s not — it’s not tight, I can move it and my fingers are narrow, but it’s not coming off!”

“How is that even possible?”

Lance pulls on the ring until it hurts, twisting it every which way and shaking his hand roughly. “I don’t know!”

“Here, just — stop freaking out,” Keith orders. Lance freezes, heart pounding. Keith slowly reaches over and wraps his left hand around Lance’s wrist, right hand on the ring. Lance has a sudden, vivid memory of their hands in the exact same position, stood in front of an alien with bright pink hair and dressed like fuckin’ Elvis, because of course they were, only in the memory Keith is sliding the ring on instead of trying to pull it off.

“Okay, that’s weird,” Keith says, finally giving up after pulling hard enough to make Lance wince. “It must be the marriage ritual in this place, or something. Alien magic, I dunno.”

“There has to be something we can do,” Lance says, snatching back their marriage certificate — their fucking marriage certificate, dear God — and reading it over carefully.

“Here!” Lance points out a tiny block of text near to corner, then reads aloud for Keith’s benefit. “Klent City State 347th Union Office.”

Keith sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God. We’ll just explain the situation to them, and boom. Annulment. Problem over, we rush back to the castle before anyone else wakes up, and then we never speak of this again. Perfect.”

Lance nods, swallowing around the sudden bile in his throat. “Yeah. Perfect. Get dressed, Mullet. We have a divorce to attend.”

Keith snorts, rolling back off the bed and digging around for his dumbass go-go boots and jacket.

Once he looks away, Lance allows himself a pained wince, pressing his fingers to his eyes and scrunching his shoulders up to his ears.

“Lance? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lance says, pulling his hands away and straightening himself out. “Just — I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Keith, obviously, does not do that, because he is incapable of following instructions. He presses his hand to Lance’s forehead in a mirror of what Lance did earlier.

“You hungover, too?”

Lance shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I don’t get hungover.”

Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously,” Lance insists. “I drink lots of water when I drink, and besides that, I never really have enough alcohol to get hungover in the first place. I am essentially a toothbrush bristle, Keith. I get drunk off, like, two drinks.”

Keith snorts. “You had a lot more than two drinks last night, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Lance flushes. Keith is remembering correctly. Lance hadn’t even intended to drink last night — he wanted to have fun and be sober — but he’d gotten bored watching Hunk and Pidge demolish the slot machines, and he didn’t feel like helping Shiro and Allura supervise Coran, so he went to go find and bother Keith. Unfortunately, he found Keith leaning close to some guy, laughing brightly, his hand on Keith’s bicep, and he’d tipped back an entire line of shots before he could convince himself not to be a dumbass.

Not that Keith needs to know that. Not that it even means anything.

“I got bored,” Lance says instead, which isn’t even technically a lie. “But, no. I’m not hungover. I’m just — um, it was a big night last night. Lots of light and sound. I’m a little overwhelmed and oversensitive.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

A minute later, something is being placed on his head. Lance looks up in surprise at Keith, who just smiles sheepishly.

“No idea why there is a sparkly pink ball cap with my clothes, but you need it more than me.”

Lance laughs brightly. “Oh, I remember this one! You remember when we were first running away from everyone else? Hunk was on our tail at some point, so I decided to steal your hair band and shoot him with it to distract him. Then you were moping about your hair in your eyes, though, and you grabbed the hat right off some dude’s head.”

Keith’s jaw drops. “I did not.”

“You really did, dude,” Lance says, grinning. “Clean off his damn head. Then you walked off like it was nothing.”

Keith shakes his head at himself, snorting. “Whoops. Sorry, Random Alien Dude.” He pauses for a minute, checking his watch. “Hey, we still have a little over an hour before everyone else gets up. Do you think we can grab some food on the way? I’m starving.”

“Shocking,” Lance says drily, but makes no argument. He could go for some shitty fast food too, honestly. They make their way out of the hotel, both of them wincing at the brightness when they finally make it outside, and head to the nearest brightly lit sign that offers grease and salt.

“Good thing we’re billionaires now,” Keith teases. “We wouldn’t be able to afford this otherwise, because your drunk ass was losing at every game we played.”

“I was not!” Lance says indignantly, but Keith pays him no heed.

“You were so. You only started winning when I was blowing on the dice.” He smiles smugly, poking Lance in the cheek. “You suck at poker, dude.”

Lance huffs, reaching over and stealing one of Keith’s fries as revenge.

“Hey! Paws off! You have your own!”

“You’re being a dick, and you upchucked on my favourite shirt last night,” Lance points out. “I deserve at least half of your fries.”

Keith inclines his head. “Yeah, alright, fair. But if it makes you feel any better, I couldn’t find my boxers and these pants are tight as hell, so I promise I am also suffering.”

Lance eyes, without his permission, glance down at the front of Keith’s pants. He flushes.

“That does make me feel better.”

Because Keith is suffering. That’s why.

…Whatever.

“Hey, by the way,” Keith says, swallowing his last bite of food. “How come you’re limping?”

Lance could smack him. Honestly.

“Why do you think, dumbass?” he snaps. “I’m not…used to this kind of thing. Or whatever.”

It takes a moment for Keith to clue in, but when he does, his eyes go wide and he freezes in his tracks.

“Please tell me I did not just take your fucking virginity.”

He looks so genuinely horrified that Lance can’t help himself, so he rears back and punches Keith in the arm as hard as he can.

“Ow!”

“I don’t buy into that shit, so don’t flatter yourself,” Lance says harshly. “It’s the most dumbass idea I’ve ever heard. So what last night was my first time? It doesn’t — don’t be an idiot about it.”

Keith glares at him for a moment, rubbing his arm — in hindsight Lance could have probably held back a little, he’s definitely going to bruise — but then sighs.

“Yeah, sorry,” he relents. His face turns slightly teasing. “I just — I guess I just didn’t expect that from you, Loverboy.”

Lance scowls. “It makes perfect sense! I bet your first time was some rushed and unsatisfying bullshit on a random couch in an unsupervised room.”

That makes Keith frown, looking at Lance strangely. “There’s no possible way you know that.”

“Of course I know that, because it was the fucking Garrison, man. That’s what everyone did. I have no interest in that garbage. I want it slow and on a nice bed or I don’t want it at all.” He flushes up to his ears, realising what he said. “Or — I did want that. Whatever.”

Keith is quiet for a long time as they walk, and the tension is so thick that Lance almost considers giving up and calling Shiro despite his whole tantrum earlier.

“I hope it was like that,” Keith says quietly.

Lance thinks back to all he can remember last night — it’s not much, but he does remember it, remembers them clumsy and drunk and laughing and affectionate. He remembers how Keith had kissed him softly, pressed him gently into the mattress, how the skin of his hands had been rough under his gloves, tangled with Lance’s beside his head. He remembers how Lance’s ring — Keith’s ring, Keith’s ring, they’re not really married — had glittered in the dim light of the room, how the same soft glow had been reflected in Keith’s indigo eyes. He remembers feeling so loved his chest hurt with it.

But Keith doesn’t remember — ‘I hope it was like that’, he’d said. He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter, anyway.

“I don’t remember,” Lance lies. The words burn his mouth.

Both of them are quiet. Bitterly, Lance wonders if their relationship is ever going to be the same, or if everything they’ve ever built is ruined. If Lance ruined everything. Fuck, and he and Keith worked so hard, too. They both put so much fucking effort into their relationship. And Lance cherishes it — he really does. He likes having someone who’s just as competitive as him, grinning at him as they train, teasing and taunting as they spar. He likes having someone to look just as lost and confused with when Hunk and Pidge start talking tech. He likes having someone who will strike goofy superhero poses behind Shiro’s back whenever the man says something particularly Captain-America-ish. He likes having someone sit carefully next to him on the observation deck on bad nights, asking him to tell stories of his family to ease the hurt.

He likes being Keith’s friend. He hates that he ruined it with his stupid, stupid feelings. He should’ve just let Keith flirt with the alien dude. He should’ve stuck with Hunk and Pidge. Hell, he should’ve let Hunk bust out the Drunk Lance Backpack Leash —

He startles when a warm hand grabs his, tangling their fingers together.

“Keith?”

“Alien marriage magic,” Keith says, looking straight ahead.

“Huh?“

“I keep getting — urges,” Keith explains. His cheeks are red. “I keep wanting to — touch you, or whatever. It must be the bonding magic.”

Lance swallows roughly, looking away. He should really pull away. He’s only making things worse for himself. He should let go, maybe even sidestep away.

Instead he tightens his grip, and steps even closer.

“Must be.”

Lance can’t bring himself to look at Keith for the rest of their walk. There’s no point in making things even harder for himself, after all. Eventually Keith is going to let go, and their going to get their wrongful marriage rightfully annulled, and Lance is going to give back his ring — not his fucking ring, God, why has he become so possessive over it already? It’s only been one night, and barely! — and they’re both going to go home and pretend this never happened. Just like Keith said.

Except it did happen.

And Lance won’t forget it.

“We’re here,” Keith says quietly, jutting his chin at a flashing neon sign.

“Real tasteful of us,” Lance mutters as he looks at it. Keith snorts.

“Practically a destination wedding,” he agrees. Despite himself, Lance smiles.

Keith lets go of his hand to push open the doors. Lance does a very good job of not crying about it, which is excellent. Point to Lance for that one.

“Hello, there,” greets a woman, smiling kindly. “Come to get married?”

Lance winces. He wonders how he looks at Keith for her to assume that.

He’s taking back that mental point he just gave himself. He does not deserve it.

“Uh, opposite, actually,” Keith says. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “We got drunk and hitched last night? And now my dad’s ring is stuck on his finger. So. We were wondering if you could fix that.”

The woman looks a strange mix of pitying and amused. “Yes, that would be the bonding spell. Interesting that it worked on you both, if you were as inebriated as you say.”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing important,” she says, waving a dismissing hand. “If you wish to annul your union, I can do that for you.”

“That would be great,” Keith says.

Lance says nothing.

“Alright, then. Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”

Both of them do. Lance feels something ticklish and breezy wrap around his hands, and something glows brightly enough that he can feel it even with his eyes closed.

“Now, all magic bonds work on two things: consent, and desire. The breaking of those bonds is very similar. Both of you must envision your ties together, specifically those of marital union, and then use your desire to be unmarried to envision those ties broken.”

Lance squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to envision his bond with Keith. He’s not one hundred percent sure what that means, so instead he tries to picture Keith, just as he is. He thinks of sly smiles showing the barest peek of crooked incisors, of a strong hand on the small of his back when Lance gets overwhelmed, of a gravelly voice whispering ‘I bet they’re waiting for you, Lance, and when you come back to them it’s going to be great,’ of the scent of pine and sandalwood, somehow, even in space. And then he envisions Keith’s panicked face when he woke up, when he saw that it was Lance that he spent the night with. He envisions the steadiness in Keith’s voice as he asked the woman for their annulment.

The glow burns brightly, strong enough to hurt his eyes through his eyelids, and then there’s nothing.

“Did it work?”

“If you both followed the instructions, yes.”

Lance opens his eyes, glancing over at Keith’s expectant face. He swallows the lump in his throat, and forced himself to wrap his fingers around his ring — not his fucking ring — and pull.

It doesn’t move.

“It’s still stuck,” Lance says desperately. He pulls harder on the ring, more and more panicked by the second.

“Shit, Lance, don’t hurt yourself —”

“I’m — I’m pulling, and I followed to instructions, I envisioned the broken bonds —”

“Both of you followed instructions?” the woman interrupts.

“Just as you explained,” Keith says. “Our bond, and then envisioned it breaking.”

She raises her eyebrow. “Hm. That’s strange. I’ve never seen the ritual fail for two willing parties before.”

“Fuck,” Keith whispers, dragging his hand down his face. “This is bad. Did it maybe not work because we’re human? Well, I’m half-human, but still.”

“We’re a largely tourist-oriented planet,” the woman explains. “Most people who come to this office are not native here. There is no reason your species should have affected the spell.”

“Yeah, I get that, but humans have never been to space before, so maybe —”

“It’s my fault,” Lance blurts. He shrinks back at their questioning looks. He looks down at his hands, twisting his ring — fuck — around his finger.

“Lance?“ Keith asks quietly.

“I don’t want to get divorced,” Lance admits. He’s ashamed to feel tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not fair, I’ll try to ignore it, but —” He looks down at his feet, voice small. “I don’t want to get divorced.”

“Oh, thank God,” Keith says, and before Lance can even process, Keith strides towards him, cradling his face in his hands, and kisses him soundly.

“Wha —” Lance mumbles against chapped lips, confused and scared and unable to shake the hurt built in his chest quite yet. “You —?”

“So long,” Keith whispers, pulling away and then pressing back in again like he can’t help himself. “I — I’ve loved you for so long, Lance.”

Lance feels the tears leak finally from his eyes, dripping onto Keith’s cheeks. “Really?”

Keith pulls away for real this time, resting his forehead against Lance’s and laughing softly. “You have no fucking idea. You’re just — you are everything I’ve ever wanted. When I woke up this morning and saw my ring on your finger I thought I was still dreaming.”

Lance’s hands loosen their grip on Keith’s shirt, resting open-palmed on his chest. “But you wanted the annulment.”

“I wanted you to be happy,” Keith corrects. “I want you to be happy. Ideally with me, but — you were so panicked, this morning. I don’t want you to be tied down with someone you don’t want.”

“I want,” Lance says quickly. “I have — I love you, too. Always. Since the Garrison, probably.”

Keith grins. “Even when we were rivals?”

“We’re still rivals, Mullet. If you think I’m going to stop kicking your ass just because you’re my husband then you’re solely mistaken — oh my God. You’re my husband.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“No, Keith —” Lance pulls away slightly, so he can look up at Keith with the appropriate amount of panic. “What are we going to tell the team?”

But instead of freaking out like Lance expects, Keith is totally calm. Amused, even. He slides his hand down from Lance’s face to his hand, pulling it up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss just below his knuckles, right above his — his! — ring.

“That I went to space Vegas and married the love of my life,” he says. He shifts slightly, turning Lance’s hand to press a kiss to his wrist.

“That I gave him the ring that I got from my father and he got from his grandfather and I’m happy I did.” He pulls up Lance’s sleeve, kissing the middle of his forearm.

“That I don’t regret it for anything, and would do it again in a second.” Three kisses, slowly, one after the other, up his bicep.

“That I look at him and every day is brighter. That even drunk me looked into those gorgeous brown eyes and couldn’t think of anything but being with him forever.” A lingering kiss to his shoulder, then a trail of them to his neck, where Lance can feel him smirk.

“That I got hitched and then spent an amazing night after doing more than just kissi—”

“Okay,” Lance interrupts, pressing his hand over Keith’s mouth and going red. Keith presses a kiss to his palm, eyes sparking in amusement. “I got it, Gomez. We’re telling them the truth. Maybe cool it a little.”

“For now,” Keith agrees, muffled.

Lance shakes, pulling his hand back and looking away. After a second or too he rolls his eyes at himself — why the hell is he holding back? — and presses a another long, lingering kiss to Keith’s lips.

“Ditto, by the way. With — all that mushy shit.”

Keith snorts. “Poet, you are.”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, shut the fuck up.”

That makes Keith laugh outright, pressing their lips together one last time before pulling away. He turns toward the officiant woman, who thankfully looks amused.

“Uh, sorry for wasting your time.”

“All is well,” she says, smiling slyly. “That was the most entertainment I’ve had in a long time. Enjoy your day, boys.”

Smiling like fools, they duck out of the office, giggling as they stumble back in the direction of the castle.

“Shiro is going to give us so many chores,” Lance says brightly.

“So many,” Keith agrees.

“And Hunk and Pidge are going to tease us for eternity.”

“Mhm.”

“Allura too, probably.”

“Most likely.”

“Coran’ll be on our side, though.”

Keith stops, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and dipping him before kissing him again.

“You’re a sappy loser,” Lance informs him.

“You love me so much you couldn’t even pretend to want a divorce,” Keith shoots back.

Lance sighs happily. “Not even a little.”

And God, is he ever grateful for that.

[klaissance]

walk with me here you guys ahem,

Keith and Lance finally have The TalkTM on a day like most others. The paladins go about their business on the castleship, Keith and Lance mostly doing their activities together as has become, without their really noticing, habit. Keith flips through the pages of one of Allura's Altean romance novels on one end of the couch, Lance plays a video game on the handheld console he and Pidge found at a thrift store the last time they'd stopped off at a space mall from the other end. At some point they wander to the kitchen and make Hunk's latest attempt at space popcorn. They throw the pieces at each other, trying to break their previous streak record of 106 popcorn-mouth-catches. When they run out, they pelt each other with kernels until they collapse on the kitchen floor, out of breath and laughing. They clean up their mess together. They train, talk team strategy, help Coran out with some cleaning. They visit Hunk and Pidge in the lion bay and are promptly kicked out for causing trouble (neither of them can seem to keep their hands to themselves, always touching pieces and parts and projects, and inevitably something falls over and Pidge is yelling and they're scrambling away, giggling as they run down the hall). The paladins eat dinner, everyone hangs out together for a while, and life in space is pretty good.

Lance and Keith are often the last two left in the lounge as people split off--either to go to bed or to work on something independently until the wee hours (Pidge). They're chatting, swapping stories, arguing about silly hypotheticals, until Lance yawns mid-sentence and Keith knows it's time for bed. They stand together and walk to their rooms in warm silence, close enough to brush shoulders, neither changing trajectory to avoid the contact. They stop in the space between their doors to say goodnight; this, too, is normal. They smile small smiles at each other and linger, time stretchy in the way it is at nighttime.

And then something new happens.

"Keith," Lance says slowly, like he's turning the word over in his mouth for the first time. "Would you ever want--"

Keith's heart stutters in his chest and the silence of the empty hallway is suddenly deafening. Lance only hesitates for a beat but it stretches.

"--to go on a space date," Lance finishes, brows unknitting as he seems to consider what just came out of his mouth. Finding it acceptable, he nods, then lifts his gaze from the floor to meet Keith's wide-eyed gaze. "With me," Lance adds, an afterthought but an important clarification nonetheless, quirking an eyebrow.

Keith purses his lips for a moment that pulls like taffy into an eternity and it's Lance's turn to hear the ocean roaring in his ears as he waits. "Would that make us--"

Lance can't breathe.

"--space boyfriends?" Keith finishes and the air rushes from Lance's lungs, something like relief. Keith is smiling his mischievous smile, the crooked one that puts a spark in his eyes. It is among Lance's favorite Keith expressions (there are many).

"Yeah, I guess we'd be space boyfriends," Lance concedes, biting down on his lower lip to keep his grin from spreading too far. He's not doing a very good job.

"Hm." Keith nods solemnly. "Space boyfriends it is, then."

"Cool," Lance concludes eloquently.

"Cool," Keith echoes, and then they're standing in ooey gooey marshmallow silence, grinning softly at each other for a long time or maybe no time at all. Keith feels very warm and melty on the inside. Lance thinks he could run a marathon and not break a sweat.

"Alrighty then, g'night Space Boyfriend," Lance breaks the silence with a two-fingered salute and shuffles backwards towards his door.

Keith rolls his eyes without meaning to, affection heating his face despite himself. "Goodnight, Lance." He turns towards his door, grinning to himself as Lance snorts. Their doors slide open, their doors slide shut.

***

Hours later, Lance slips out of bed, buzzing with the news, and appears, bouncing uncontrollably on his toes and biting on the biggest grin, at Hunk's door. Hunk is rubbing blearily at his half-lidded eyes when he door slides open and he takes in the sight of Lance, practically glowing. Hunk blinks once. Twice. Does a little mental math. And it hits him. His eyes go wide and his mouth makes a little o, eyebrows leaping up his forehead.

"No... No." And Lance is nodding vigorously, eyes shining with unshed happiness, and that bit lip is barely withholding the giggle that threatens to erupt from the vibrating blue paladin. Hunk scoops him into the biggest bear hug, shouting "TELL ME EVERYTHING RIGHT NO-" and the door slides shut behind them, Lance's peals of laughter ricocheting down the halls.

Keith is awake in his room, sitting on the floor with his back up against the door, pressing a grin so wide it hurts into his knees. He rolls his eyes affectionately when he hears Hunk's muffled delight and finally stands up to go to bed.