#soft Klance

[mothmanavenue]

to that bloodshed, crimson clover, uh huh, the worst was over, my hand was the one you reached for all throughout the great war

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Keith, I need a favour.”

Keith stops in his tracks. Slowly, he sets down the helmets he’s holding, freeing his hands, then holds the phone out in front of him. He ponders it carefully.

“I could throw you into the sea,” he says to it. He does some quick calculations. If he drives to the nearest seafront now, he will be approximately twenty-three hours late to his date with Lance by the time he gets back. However, if he skips the fanfare and drops his phone into the disgusting oil-filled puddle right next to him, he can proceed to his date on schedule.

“Decisions, decisions,” he muses. Fanfare is important. Dropping his phone into a puddle is whatever. It’s derivative. But dropping his phone into the North Atlantic…now that is revolutionary.

“Fucksake. Keith,” sighs the voice coming from the phone. “If you don’t answer me, I am going to change the Netflix password.”

Keith frowns. “Hey.”

“Thank you,” says Shiro emphatically, “you brat.”

“Netflix is sacred,” Keith protests. “You can’t joke about the Netflix. I am a delicate orphan, Shiro. What will happen to me if my primary care figure breaks his promises? I’ll regress and act out and end up in prison. Do you want me to end up in prison?”

“A little, honestly.”

“Gasp, Shiro. Gasp. How dare.”

“I think you should consider a degree in the dramatic arts.”

“I think you should eat my farts.” Keith snickers. “Hey, that rhymed.”

Shiro sighs, long and loud, and Keith can practically see the smile twitching on his face. “Where did I go wrong. Truly. To think I tried to raise an upstanding young man, respectful to his elders, happy to help when needed. Shame that you’re a gremlin and a changeling.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Blah blah. Get to begging for my help. I have places to be, old man. A new jacket Adam bought me to wear in front of pretty people. Well, one pretty person. Anyways.”

“God, you’re whipped,” Shiro says, and Keith ignores that because if he doesn’t he’ll combust. “You and Lance going out?”

Keith tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder, picking the helmets back up and continuing his walk to his bike. “Yep.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Dinner at Caribella. It’s an excuse for a ride, really. Maybe walk around downtown for a bit.”

“Sounds fun. How much more fun would it be with your little sister, huh?”

Keith stops for the second time. He can see Red maybe fifty metres away. He looks at her mournfully.

“So close,” he despairs quietly, then turns back to his phone. “Not super fun, Shiro. Since she’s, you know. A year old. And a date is something you traditionally do with your boyfriend. Alone.”

Shiro makes a weirdly strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a stressed croak. “Well! The thing is.”

Keith waits. No thing is listed.

“Shiro.”

“It’s no big deal! Really.”

“Oh? I guess I’ll just hang up, then —”

“It’s just that Adam and I are at his sister’s, right, and —”

“There we go.”

“And we have a sitter. Obviously. All is well. Except, you know. The storm forecast. And everything.”

“And you’re four hours away with a car that you haven’t put snow tires on yet,” Keith surmises. He looks forlornly at his bike, sitting all pretty in her parking spot, freshly polished red paint gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the parking garage. So, so close. “You dumbass.”

“The forecast was clear this morning!”

“You’re a dad! You’re supposed to know these things!”

“Well!”

“Can’t the sitter just — stay? Overnight, or something?”

He feels bad. Any other day, he’d be happy to have Hana over, or go stay over there. He does it all the time. Hana is the coolest. He has no idea how she’s the daughter of the two biggest goobers he knows. Hell, he’s already got plans to watch her this Thursday, so Adam and Shiro can go to their old person museum date thing.

But he has plans tonight.

Fuck.

“She’s sixteen, Keith,” Shiro explains, sighing. Keith envisions his brother slumped against a wall somewhere, rubbing over the scar on his nose. “She’s too young for that. She’s Adam’s friend’s daughter, and she’s a sweetheart, but she’s got school. She can’t be responsible for a baby overnight.”

“No, I — I figured.” He drags his free hand down his face. “You need me to go over there?”

“Yeah. Mara – the sitter – can’t drive yet. Her parents are coming to get her in an hour.”

Shiro’s voice is quiet, subdued. He sounds guilty. Keith hates when Shiro is guilty. He covers his hand over the phone so Shiro can’t hear, screams a little, breathes deeply, then forces a smile wide enough that it will bleed into his voice. Hopefully.

“It’s fine, Shiro. Seriously. Lance and I’ll reschedule, Hana and I will make sure to fuck up your Netflix profile. All is well.”

“Thank you, Keith. I owe you.”

It is a dire thing when Shiro doesn’t complain about Keith messing up his Netflix profile. Once, three years ago, Keith forgot to switch the TV in their living room and watched some Hallmark movie as he sketched, just to make noise in the background. Shiro made snide comments about his taste for three months, because he’s a pretentious indie loser who watches shit like Empire unironically.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll start a tab.”

That, thankfully, makes Shiro snort. “Brat.” He brightens. Keith can almost hear the ding of a lightbulb going off in his head. “Hey, I know it’s dorky, but maybe you and Lance can still go on your date! Me and Adam used to when you were little, in the old apartment.”

Keith furrows his brows. “What, like when you marathoned Lord of the Rings on the shitty futon and ordered the greasiest pizza known to man? That’s not a date.”

“Is so! We enjoyed it, you had pizza so you weren’t having a tantrum, what else could we need?”

“You guys have been weird old people your whole entire life. Did you know that?”

“Only because you aged me. You pain. Anyways. Go pick up my daughter, or you can stay at our place. Minivan keys are where they always are. I gotta go. Love you, kiddo.”

“Ugh. Love you too.” He hangs up, blowing a raspberry at the phone. “Minivan keys are where they always are, he says. What a soccer mom.”

He stares, hands on his hips, at his bike.

What to do, what to do.

He really doesn’t want to cancel on Lance. It’s been a couple days since they’ve seen each other, because Lance’s job hates him. Plus, Hana isn’t very fussy. It’s kind of dweeby and embarrassing, but. Well. Lance likes kids. So it could be fine, honestly.

“Hana first,” Keith decides, nodding to himself. He lifts the seat compartment under the bike and shoves the extra blue helmet in, strapping on his own and starting Red up. To bring Lance to Shiro’s for an embarrassing old person date, or to cancel. That is the question.

Eh. He’ll decide on the ride.

— — —

He does not decide on the ride.

“What do you think,” he asks his sister, lips pursed. She gurgles happily at him from her high chair, shaking her soggy-Cheerio-covered fist at him. “I mean, you go to bed in a couple hours. So it’s not like it’s pure babysitting.”

“Abdalalala,” she says, which Keith translates to mean actually, now that I know you want me to sleep, I will spend tonight completely resistant to sleep, as karma. Enjoy.

“That’s rude,” he informs her.

You’re batshit, says the Pidge that lives in his brain. Also, quit procrastinating.

“Ugh,” he says, out loud. He pulls out his phone and hesitates over Lance’s contact.

to: lance <3

hey you like kids right

from: lance <3

oh my god

from: lance <3

keith, are you…

from: lance <3

pregnant??????

Keith laughs.

to: lance <3

you are not funny

from: lance <3

i’m hilarious actually it’s a tragedy

from: lance <3

i carry the burden of knowing i am solely responsible for my friends’ good humour

from: lance <3

heavy is the head that wears the crown. pensive face emoji solidarity fist emoji broken heart emoji

Keith refuses to dignify that with an answer. Also, he has been informed by Lance’s best friend that if he ignores the emoji bit it will go away eventually. So far it’s been going strong for three months, though, so Keith’s not certain. He can only hope Hunk is correct.

from: lance <3

anyways yah i like kids why

to: lance <3

how much cooler and charming would i be if i picked you up in a minivan. with my sister

from: lance <3

aw, keith!

from: lance <3

to be coolER and MORE charming you have to be cool and charming to begin with :)

from: lance <3

and you are a dweeb 💖

from: lance <3

sounds good tho

from: lance <3

Bring Forth The Child

from: lance <3

oh also bring forth burritos on ur way over

from: lance <3

i’m hungry

Hana yells and bangs on her tray. When Keith looks up, she lobs a Cheerio at him. It hits him squarely between the eyes.

“You’re right,” he says sagely, peeling it off and flicking it back at her. She shrieks in joy. “I cannot let this shit slide. I cannot simply allow myself to be roasted, Hana. I must have self respect.”

She blows a raspberry at him and bangs harder on her tray. Baby conversations are, honestly, riveting.

“Exactly, squirt. You get it. Let’s get cleaned up and go, hm?”

— — —

He picks up burritos on the drive.

Hana laughs at him.

— — —

He’s hardly pulled up in front of Lance’s apartment building when a blur streaks across the front walkway, yanking open the van’s side door.

“Oh, hell-o, precious darling!” gasps Keith’s boyfriend, tumbling into the backseat and slamming my the door shut behind him. “Hi, Hana! Hi hi hi! Aren’t you the bestest ever? You are!”

Hana, evidently pleased with the attention, babbles something incomprehensible and pats Lance’s cheek. He melts, babbling something so quickly it’s equally incomprehensible and shaking her hand. Keith watches, torn between endeared and affronted.

“Hello, boyfriend I have not seen in days,” he deadpans. “Yes, I missed you also. No, I don’t mind at all that you leave me to wither away, alone, in the front seat. Excellent chat.”

“You have a very very grumpy brother, don’t you, Hana,” Lance coos. His shoulders shake with held back laughter.

“Lance, get your ass in the front.”

“But I’m meeting the baby!”

“She is not going anywhere! Meet her at home! You turd!”

“Name-calling is not very nice,” retorts Lance primly, crawling over the console and finally settling in the passenger seat. “What kind of example are you setting, huh?”

He leans over the armrest once he’s buckled in and kisses Keith gently, cradling his hand against his jaw and tilting their heads together. He smells, as he always does, of flowers and sunshine, and Keith sighs as he sinks into the softness of him, the curve of his smile and nip of his teeth.

“Hi,” Keith murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his chin, and then squarely on the mouth again.

“Hi,” Lance responds, a little breathless, grinning widely. His hair is damp and curling at the edges. He’s left out his contacts for the night and the gold lenses match the gold flecks in his brown eyes. Everything he’s wearing is stolen right from Keith’s closet, except his socks, which are bright purple and covered in obnoxiously orange weiner dogs. Keith is so in love with him that the intensity of it embarrasses him, and he pulls away, face red, very interested suddenly in adjusting is rearview mirror.

Lance, knowing, only smiles.

“These are for you,” he says gruffly, shoving the paper takeout bag at Lance’s chest. Lance wastes no time digging through and shoving half of one in his face.

“Aw, baby,” he says, mouth completely full. “You’re literally the best. Sweet, attentive, manipulable, obsessed with me. Everything I intended when I did the love spell on you.”

Keith eyes Lance from his peripherals. He’s digging through his patched backpack, face completely serene. Keith is reminded of the actual sigil he has tattooed on his ankle. (He’s very familiar with it. It’s often right at eye level. Hard to miss, really.)

“…You’re a strange, strange man.”

“Anyways!” Lance continues, visibly gleeful. Keith reminds himself to focus on the goddamn road and remember his sister is watching with her giant wide eyes in the backseat, probably committing all his embarrassing actions to memory to report to Adam the second she is capable of speech. “I brought lots of movies. Mostly Jurassic Park, but also some educational stuff for the baby. Ghostbusters, High School Musical, you know. All that good stuff. And I stashed popcorn behind your microwave last time I slept over so we’re set for snacks.”

“Oh, we’re going to my brother’s place, actually, ‘cause Hana’s more comf— wait, behind the microwave? Why behind?”

“Wait, wait, hold on. We’re not going to your place?”

“No,” Keith says carefully. “I have some baby stuff in my apartment, but not a lot. Plus, Shiro has a better T.V. and also Adam just bought Moose Tracks. So.” He slows to a stop at a red light, noting Lance’s odd expression. “That okay?”

Lance screws up his face for a second, thinking. “I’m pretty sure? As long as there’s an extra toothbrush there. I have one at your place so I didn’t bother bringing one. And I guess I can survive a night without my face serum, but if I get one single wrinkle we’re beefing.”

“You’re not gonna get a stupid wrinkle,” Keith grouches. “And why would you get pissy if you get a wrinkle? We’re gonna get them eventually, and you —”

“‘We’?” Lance teases. “You gonna grow old with me? Gonna marry me someday, Kogane?”

“—can even use Shiro’s face stuff, anyway, I’m sure it’s the same.” Keith clears his throat. “And plus —”

His voice cracks horribly. Lance makes a valiant effort to keep his giggles to himself, but as Keith face continues to get hotter and hotter he loses control and laughs, head thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing with every hitched breath. His laughter sets Hana off, too, both of them encouraging each other’s ridiculousness until they’re as red as Keith is, gasping for breath.

“I hate it here,” Keith mutters darkly. “I’m turning around and bringing you back. You’re the worst. Why do I go out with you.”

Lance, barely recovered, makes kissy faces at him. “Because you want to maaaarrryyyyy meeeee, you think I’m seeeeexxxyyyyy, you want to kiiiiisssss meeeee —”

He cuffs Lance in the back of his head, pretending to check his blindspot and ignoring Lance’s cries of spousal abuse. “I actually just want you to watch Miss Congeniality twelve percent less often. For your own mental health.”

“Lies and slander! Peddling of falsehoods! Perjury and defamation!”

“I’m burning your thesaurus.”

“And now threats! Hana, you shall be my witness! I will testify against you in court! You will be jailed! I will visit you twice monthly!”

“That’s the second person today who wants me in jail,” Keith comments, pulling into Shiro’s driveway. “You’d visit me even if you put me in there?”

“Well, duh. Have to make sure you don’t go around kissing cute criminal boys or I will become a cute criminal boy.”

“Right, of course. I should have known.”

“You should have, yes.” Lance leans over and kisses him on the forehead with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ noise. “But it’s okay, I like ‘em a little dumb.”

“Help me get the diaper bag, goober,” Keith snorts, shoving him away. “I want to get inside so I can have a burrito before you eat them all.”

———

Lance was not kidding about High School Musical.

Obviously.

“Do you want her to grow up with no understanding of community, Keith,” he scolds, and pays no mind when Keith replies, “Well, she has a family, dude, so I’m not worried.”

They watch the stupid musical.

Keith is horribly endeared by Lance’s extensive knowledge of the choreography. Lance is horribly appalled at Keith’s ignorance. Hana is intrigued, mind body and soul, by every scene with Sharpay Evans. Keith assumes this will be a problem for Adam in the near future, and resolves to make that problem worse.

All this to say he’s having a very embarrassing night, in terms of mushy thoughts and feelings.

“I can’t wait to have kids of my own someday,” Lance sighs, a very sleepy Hana tucked into the crook of his arm. He watches her, soft, and Keith pauses with a DVD held loose in his hand, enraptured, because there’s a curve to Lance’s smile that he’s never seen before, and suddenly his left hand looks bare. “I know it’s supposed to be stressful and everything, but I used to force Hunk to play house with me when we were kids. Literally every day. And when my neice and nephew were born I hogged them all the time, even when they were screaming. I dunno. Being a parent sounds awesome. You get to…like…grow a person. It’s like growing a plant but a bajillion times better, probably.”

“Yeah,” says Keith, softly, and without meaning to he’s thinking of Shiro’s tired smile and the gentle hand Adam lays on the back of his neck, of their door that was always open for Keith’s nightmares, of Shiro’s clothes ruffling as he slid to the floor and sat for hours as Keith screamed himself hoarse and cried for a mother who left. Of Adam’s boiling pots and gentle hands as he guided Keith around a chopping knife. Of both Shiro’s choked-off sobs and Adam’s right embrace as Keith came back, thirteen, in the middle of the night, scared and no longer angry, and their quiet I’m so glad you’re safe. Thank you for coming back. “Yeah, family is important.”

Lance hums. He’s quiet long enough that Keith looks up, realising for the first time his gaze has been locked, unseeing, on the pictures on the wall, of Shiro and Adam and the two of them together and with Keith and with Hana and with Keith and Hana. Lance is watching him, quiet, dark eyes knowing, Hana finally asleep in his arms, beautiful and strong and everything Keith has ever wanted, suddenly, at once.

“I love you,” he blurts.

Lance smiles. “I’ve noticed.”

“Oh, you dickhead.”

“I’m saying it back!” Lance says, snickering, free hand held up in surrender. Keith walks over and slots their fingers together, squeezing slightly, leaning in and holding, a second, a hair’s breadth away from Lance’s mouth, watching his lips part, feeling the heat of his breath. His words are breathless, near silent, mouthed as much as spoken. “You changed my life, you know. I made you chase me because I thought it was funny, but — I made Hunk get me your number from Pidge the night I left the bar. I was going to text you if your brother’s tweet didn’t go viral and cement your dorkiness for eternity.”

“That’s a lotta words to say ‘I love you’, dorkbrain.”

“I know. You make me nervous.”

“You never get nervous.”

“I do with you.”

“Yeah?”

They’re so close now that their lips brush with every word, and Lance is grinning, eyes crinkled and lashes fluttering against Keith’s cheeks, and Keith has a hand careful on Hana’s head so he doesn’t crush her and is smiling just as wide. Cheesy, dorky, corny, and everything Keith wished for after every romance novel he’d steal, fooling no one, from Adam’s shelf and read long after bedtime.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I love you. Even though you’re a dweebus and a simp.”

He is, really, because he lets Lance get away with that, kissing him to shut him up, to feel his laughter right up close. It’s sparks flying and warmth spreading and heart slowing, and in the gentle darkness of the night.

It’s the promise of more to come.

[callmelyc]

Lance had been missing for a month now and nothing gives any signs of where he could be.

Keith has searched everywhere to find any semblance of a trace but he can't even remember the mission they'd been on together.

All he has to go on are his dreams of Lance. Lance who will smile at him in those dreams but not speak, who is serene during Keith's turmoil.

Lance who just cups his face and mouths the words "it's ok, you know."

But he doesn't. Keith doesn't know and it's driving him insane.

He's been to countless planets, meetings, debriefs. Nothing. Not a drop of evidence for where Lance McClain could be. Yet when Keith goes to sleep at night he'll see Lances face behind his eyelids watching and waiting patiently as if he never left.

~•~

One night when Keith crashes from exhaustion something feels different. There's sound in his dream and a maze. He goes through every challenge, each asking after some form of mental gymnastics but it feels so important that Keith can't ignore doing them.

He's reached a standstill, one in the center of the maze, when he hears it. A laugh like early spring, bright and oh so airy.

Wind chimes gently accompany the laugh and the warmth of a sun encapsulates Keith's whole being. He follows like it's a sirens song only to find dream Lance waiting by a small lake that he'd never seen before.

"Took you long enough mullet."

Keith's breath catches in his throat "I can hear you..."

All lance does is smile at him in amusement, waving Keith closer as if everything is normal. As if anything about this whole thing is normal.

Keith kneels next to him, taking a hand and pulls it close to his chest "where are you Lance?"

Lances free hand comes up to gently cup Keith's cheek. His thumb running soothingly into the flesh "you know where I am."

"But I don't! I haven't been able to find you for weeks!"

Lances smile softens "I'm right where you left me sweetheart."

Before Keith can retort he's ripped from his dream and everything floods back. A mission, a planet with plants that fight back.

Vines and poison.

A demand that told Keith to go get help, he'd be fine just go get help Keith.

Keith flings himself out of their bed and he's rushing to black faster than he can think. He knows where Lance is and he won't leave him waiting anymore.

This time when Keith goes down to this planet he makes sure he wears undamaged armor. This time, he makes sure the team is on emergency standby. This time....this time he's on heavier guard.

They'd underestimated this planet last time and it got Lance caught because of it.

Coran ran some test with Pidge and determined the reason they'd forgotten was due to the poison the spores produced.

A defense mechanism he'd said, so that the victims of their earth could not be saved. They were unsure how quickly the plants could consume their victims but coran and Pidge said it was unlikely Lance was harmed thanks to his armor.

"At most he's asleep, at worse he has some abrasions. It seems like a slow solvent in the goo the plants produce to trap the victims. Sorta like Venus fly traps but vines."

"And the forgetting part?" Keith asks while chopping through vines.

"Seems like a way to confuse the things harming them in hopes they leave or stop fighting to be the next target. It probably didn't expect you to escape."

"But we all forgot this mission Pidge."

"That would be because you were covered in the spores lad! When you returned we all fell under it's influence."

Keith huffs, cutting through more of the vines.

"Not to worry, when you two return we'll make sure to run you both through decontamination. No forgetting allowed this time."

"Yeah yeah, just be on standby."

Before long he's retraced his steps right back to the clearing from before. The entire area is overwhelmed with tangled vibes, huge flowers, roots ready to spring up and trap you.

Keith treads carefully across the earth making sure to not wake anything before it's time to fight back. First things first, he needs to determine where Lance is.

He prys his fingers between vines to peek inside. Vine clump after vine clump and nothing. No signs of Lance, no signs that any of these could fit a body underneath.

Then he sees it, a streak of white and blue. It's almost easy to overlook it, buried in the dirt, but it's his helmet the same one that got pulled off his head and got him poisoned to begin with.

Keith rushes over as fast as he can manage with the delicate nature of his steps. Sure enough, underneath the mound of vines near the helmet is Lance.

He's cocooned inside the vines, tangled so tightly in them Keith is surprised he's breathing. There's only one chance here, Keith knows he has to be fast enough or neither will make it out they'll both end up in vines if he fails.

So he holds his blade right and slices deep into the vine cocoon. The moment theres an opening Keith can hear the hisses from the plants as they realize there's someone fighting back, but he ignores them and he pushes in to pull Lance free.

Lance is covered in thick slime, he's unconscious and unresponsive but Keith doesn't have time to try to get him to move. He throws lance over his shoulder and breaks into a run.

The escape is difficult with lances dead weight making it hard to dodge all the angry plants shooting up towards them but the second they're within blacks sight the lion scoops them up and shoots into space.

This time no one forgot anything. No one will forget Lance and this time, lance won't be just a dream.

~•~

It takes two weeks for Lance to wake up. Bodily he was unharmed but the amount of poison from the slime covering him had placed their red paladin into a coma.

Keith dutifully sat by his bedside as everyone tried to convince him he wasnt guilty for forgetting.

"You didn't know"

"but I left him there..."

"You didn't know, none of us did."

He'd make sure Lance ate Hunks broths, he'd brush Lances hair for him because he knows he'd hate to wake to tangles. Keith did his skincare for him at night and kept him updated on everything that's happened.

Keith doesn't even know if Lance can hear him but the others assured Keith that his gentle care was helping even if he couldn't see it.

He wakes up one day to a hand carding weakly through his hair.

"good morning starlight."

Keith shoots up to make sure it isn't a dream. He comes face to face with blue eyes and the real version of the cocky smile he's grown to love.

"Took you long enough."

Keith practically climbs into Lances bed to pull him into an embrace "I'm so sorry-"

"None of that-" lances arm wrap around Keith just as tight "I knew you'dcome back. I was right where you left me."

Keith half sobs into the other boys shoulder "yeah...right where I left you."

Lance hums "don't worry samurai, I'll never leave you. No matter where I am I'll always be waiting."

Keith feels those hands comb through his hair again.

"always?...even if I forget?"

"Always. No matter the circumstances."

At those words Keith knows, everything will be alright. And as he eased I to lances very real, very comforting warmth, he's certain he'll never forget again.

[riceisgood123]

I originally wrote this as a thread fic on twitter, but liked it so much I decided it deserved a cleanup and to be posted to ao3. It’s short and sweet, a giant fluff fest really.

After the election results last week, everything has been garbage and I just wanted to write something that felt good and might make people smile, even just for a moment. So I come bearing soft klance.

It might be rough, but we’ll survive. Stay strong ❤️💙

[random-apollo-child]

Keith staring at lance

Lance: fuck you staring at mullet

Keith not thinking: your really pretty you know?

Lance who gets flustered anytime he's flirted with: uhh mm huh what? I- uhhh

Keith: OH SHIT I SAID THAT OUTLOUD

Lance breaking: gfyfudfitditydo pssshhhhh I uh yeah you uh mmhm

Keith: shit uhh s-sorry

Lance: you uh you actually think I'm pretty

Keith: yeah I mean who wouldn't

Lance: I don't actually dislike your mullet it kinda looks like soft

Keith now flustered: I mean like uhh

Lance laughing: uhhh wanna like go on a date or somethin

Keith: uh yeah that sounds good

[alwaysbelieve6]

This is my first attempt at Klance. Still my favorite pairing even after all this time.

[possiblysentientmoss]

and now, cryptids and beans, the actual chapter update.

90s Pop and Cropped Tops (4025 words) by PossiblySentientMoss Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Voltron - Fandom Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Klance - Relationship, Keith & Lance (Voltron) Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Additional Tags: Keith is tired of Fergalicious, Lance probably has insomnia, Fluff, Lance (Voltron) has curly hair, Lance (Voltron) has a tattoo, Keith (Voltron) is too gay for this, Lance (Voltron) in short shorts, Pining Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) has the Gay Panic™️, Wholesome

Summary: Lance studies to music. Walls are thin, and Keith is tired of waking up in the middle of the night. He definitely gets more than he bargained for when he goes to check on Lance. Fluffy chaos ensues.

[vee-is-a-clown]

I umm uh minific

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Lance glanced down at the small drawing of swords on Keith's notes (Lance couldn't be bothered to write anything down and he doesn't remember shit so he's stealing his boyfriend's notes even though he could barely read his handwriting). Well, not really the drawing. His eyes skipped to the lazily scribbled, "K.K." in the bottom right corner.

"Your initials are KK?"

"What?"

"You signed your doodle with K.K."

"And you didn't realize those were my initials in the entire time that you've known me? If I remember correctly, Iverson called me by my last name in Garrison."

"Mmm.. Shut up, K.K. Slider. I didn't connect the dots until now."

Lance leaned back to lay on his back, his head on Keith's pillow and kicked Keith in the thigh. It wasn't really a kick. From his position, he couldn't really do anything more than a slight jab with his foot. Keith let out a stifled chuckle at the attempt.

Lance turned on his side to put the meeting notes on Keith's bedside table then turned back to Keith with a faux scowl.

"You're not allowed to laugh. You're Keith Kogane."

"Mhm, ok, Pumpkin."

Lance crossed his arms and "kicked" Keith in the leg again. Keith didn't laugh this time, though he did send Lance an amused look.

"What're you doing?"

"Just stop opening your mouth."

"Aw, is there something wrong with the way I talk, Bubblegum dear?"

His Texan accent was bleeding into his speech, making everything about this situation about 10 times worse. Lance could definitely feel his face get hotter.

"Yes. Shut your pie hole."

Keith turned his body to face Lance and leaned toward him, putting his hand next to Lance's leg to stabilize himself.

"Whatever happened to please?"

"Whatever happened to you acting- normal?"

Lance attempted to motion with his arms to no avail. Keith tilted his head like a confused dog.

"Normal?"

"Poor choice of words."

"Do you want a thesaurus?"

"No, I hate you."

"You're currently laying on my bed."

"Shush!"

"I'll shush when I want to, Ranger."

Keith shifted to lay on his side next to Lance. He propped his head in his palm, looking down at Lance.

"It is getting pretty late though.."

"What are you trying to imply, Mullet?"

"Nothing, just we should probably go to sleep. It's a shame that the lights are on."

"I see what you're doing. You're trying to get me to get out of the comfy bed and turn off the lights for you. Well good sir, I say-"

"Not it!"

Lance gasped.

"You sneaky snook!"

"Go turn the lights off."

"How dare you!"

"The less time it takes for you to turn the lights off, the more beauty sleep you can get."

"Urghhh! Fine! But you owe me."

"Just go turn off the lights, you dork."

Lance got up and sprinted to the light switch, flipping it and running back in the dark. He hopped onto the bed and laid back into his previous spot.

"What's my time, coach?"

"I dunno but you were very speedy."

"It's absolute bullshit that I have to turn the lights off when Galras can see in the dark. You can see on the way back to the bed."

"Who lent you their meeting notes because you don't want to admit to Allura that you can't remember anything she said? That's right, me. Ungrateful."

"Who can't write legibly and spent the majority of the meeting drawing in the corners of the paper? That's right, you. Humble yourself."

"Ungrateful."

Keith sighed and plopped his head on the pillow. It really was late.

"We really should get to sleep."

"Whatever you say, Texas Red."

"Good night, Bluebell."

"Sweet dreams, Keith."

While Lance can fall asleep in seconds (a real skill) it still takes Keith a little bit longer. He allowed himself to relax, letting the tiredness consume him. But before he let himself fall asleep, he put his hand on Lance's cheek and thought about how lucky he was to be the one who snagged this dumbass.

[inkmonster69]

“….que pasa cariño?”

Soft klance has my entire heart! Inspired by this tweet!

https://twitter.com/spankedkeith/status/1650184138597466113?s=46&t=bFX3T3Ir45vx4fEdeicroQ

[badsongpetey]

Lance is definitely purring fr

Someone needs to cherish you like the treasure you are 💙 Was hoping to get this up for the last day of July, but life be lifing... better late than never right?

[sikuena]

" Drink up baby, look at the stars- I'll kiss you again, between the bars."

[mothmanavenue]

Oh, goddamn

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Oh, I can't

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered in you

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith walks into his room after a deliciously vigorous training season, wiping his sweaty face with a towel, and immediately notices something is off.

He freezes, towel clamped to the back of his neck, and carefully scans his room from corner to corner. His lock was still intact when he walked in, so unlikely break-in. His bed is still exactly as messy as it was when he left it. His dresser drawer is still left cracked slightly open, as he always leaves it, because it’s harder to put a drawer back to the same level of open it was before than to close it (he’s caught Hunk snooping through his shit many a time with this method. Thanks, Pa’s paranoia).

His gaze lands finally on a nondescript black book on his nightstand, and his eyebrows shoot up. He finished his book this morning and returned it to the library on his way to the training room.

He did not leave that black book there.

Wary, a thousand anxieties running through his brain, Keith approaches his nightstand bayard-first, sword extended and sharp. He pauses before he comes in contact, taking time to analyse it, attempt to puzzle out any kind of traps or discrepancies before they jump out at him. He can’t see any — the book is on the newer side, with a roughened black hardcover, gold detailing on the spine but no title or author. The paper looks thick and it’s strangely uncut, raggedy.

Hesitantly, Keith pokes it.

Nothing happens.

Less suspicious, now, he prods at it with his hands, and when that does nothing, he picks it up. It’s heavier than he expected. He cracks open the cover to reveal a red paper lining. Stuck to the inside of the cover is a baby blue post-it note, crookedly place, with only a neatly drawn heart in glitter gel pen. Keith can’t help the smile, even as his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What even…”

Pinching the first page from the bottom corner so as to not accidentally rip any paper, he slowly turns it over.

He gasps, fumbling with the book as he nearly drops it.

“How did it…”

He recognises the first page — it’s his. Or he made it, anyway. Scrawled in every white space of the nearly parchment-esque alien paper is his own doodling, from a boring meeting several weeks back. He recognises the slightly mean drawing of the Capnir leader and his snooty expression in the left corner, and the ninety games of tic-tac-toe he played with Lance on the bottom half of the page (Lance insisted he won because he is a nasty cheater. Keith didn’t even know it was possible to cheat at tic-tac-toe, but it is. It’s crazy).

Gobsmacked, Keith begins to flip through the rest of the pages, eyes getting wider and nose getting closer to the book with every corner he turns. These are his doodles and drawings — hundreds of them, loose papers from meetings and scrawled diagrams from mission plans and notes to other paladins and dorky little drawings he made for his friends or because of his own boredom. There are grocery lists covered in drawings of engine parts and knives and strange alien vegetables, hand-to-hand manoeuvre diagrams, several drawings of Shiro as Captain America, of Pidge and Hunk covered in soot except for the line around their eyes from their goggles, of Allura with the mice in her hair, Coran in the wackiest outfit he’s ever seen, Shiro with his eye twitching from Slav, Matt making goo eyes at Allura. Some of Kolivan, even, with over-exaggerated eyebrows and a frown that touches his neck.

And dozens, maybe even hundreds, of drawings of Lance. Smirking at Keith from across the kitchen table before he instigates a Pidge-Hunk argument, crowing in victory after making a shot, serious and focused mid battle, face drooping and sad and fixed on a glowing blue Earth projection with his chin hooked over his knees. Drawings that itched at Keith’s fingers every hour of every day, that he barely tried to resist; snapshots of Lance that plagued his mind ‘til he finally found time to grab a pencil.

Drawings that he had, apparently, left scattered all over the castle without thinking.

He cradles his flaming face in his free hand, heart pounding in his ears. He’s sure — he knows he threw half of these out. Some of them he left lying around, sure, and others he left out deliberately for his friends to find, but — Keith knows he threw out the full-page and coloured portrait of Lance, bright and beautiful in a dozen shades of earth, smiling softly at Keith in the low-light of the common room well after midnight. He can see the creases and smudges from where he’d crumpled it, embarrassed, and where someone had fished it out of the trash and carefully straightened it back out, brushing dust out of the crevices.

“Oh my God.”

Hunk would never have been able to keep the secret with how long it would have taken to bind this book — by hand, by the looks of it. Allura couldn’t either. Both Pidge and Shiro would have been gleeful in mocking Keith about the clear affection in every pencil stroke. Coran would have probably stuck it proudly on the fridge — he did that, once, Keith remembers, with a sketch he’d done of the whole team during a movie night. It’s still there; it’s been so long that Keith doesn’t notice it anymore.

There’s only one person who would pick up the discarded slips of paper and slide them in his pocket — only one person who’s that kind of sentimental. One person who prints every photograph he takes of every planet they’ve ever been on, who pins up every drawing gifted to him by young children no matter how objectively horrible, who tears off notes written in the margins of battle plans and keeps them in a jar on his dresser. Only one person who has a scrapbook with a dried blade of grass from Arus and piece of sea glass from the mermaid planet and a napkin stained with food goo from their food fight all those years ago. Hell, there’s only one person on this castle with enough skill with a needle and thread to bind a whole ass book.

Keith drops his bayard to the floor with a clatter, book clenched in his fist, and sprints out of his room. He flies down the hallway, ignoring the startled shout from Pidge as she jumps out of his way and the wide-eyed stare from Allura. He almost runs straight into his brother, spinning to the right at the last minute and rushing past him without bothering to entertain his questions. He runs all the way to the MedBay, where he knows Lance is taking inventory for Coran, and nearly crashes right into the pods because he’s too pumped up to slow down properly.

“Whoa there, cowboy, cool it before you give yourself a concussion. Christ.”

Lance places a cool hand on his shoulder, concerned, bin of counted bandages left abandoned behind him. Almost immediately his face coils in disgust.

“Aw, gross, you’re sweaty.”

But he doesn’t move his hand.

Keith stares.

How did he — how did he miss it, before?

“Keith?” Lance asks again, alarm clouding his face. “You okay, buddy?”

His fingers curve absentmindedly along the junction of Keith’s neck, and he leans in closer, and he smells so fucking good and he always does and Keith is lightheaded from more than just his cross-castle sprint.

“You’re in love with me,” he blurts, and he didn’t mean to say it like that but there’s no doubt in his words.

Lance startles, yanking his hand back in shock. Keith darts out to stop it, fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him from going far. Lance’s breath hitches.

“…What?”

“You’re in love with me,” Keith repeats, steadier this time. He waits a moment, then says, much more urgently: “The book.”

Mortification rings off Lance in waves.

“Oh,” he croaks. His pulse is so loud and so fast that Keith can feel it in his wrist. “I didn’t think it was — oh.”

There’s a strange quality to his voice, besides the embarrassment of getting caught, and then it clicks — he’s afraid. Of rejection, of disgust, of Keith. Keith isn’t sure. But he hates that it’s there.

Faster than he can talk himself out of, he cups Lance’s face with his free hand, relishing in the sharp intake of breath, and leans in and kisses him. There’s a moment of rigid shock on Lance’s part and it could spell trouble but Keith holds steady. He keeps his hold loose and the pressure soft and soon Lance — melts, into him, there’s no other word for it; he sinks in close and sighs and the hand Keith has gripped goes slack. His lips are soft, and his hair tickles Keith’s forehead, and Keith can still feel his jackrabbit heartbeat, and he still smells like that intoxicating mix of flowers and — sunshine, somehow, straight from the brightest days in Earth. Keith’s hands have never been steadier.

“You collected my doodles,” he says, staying close when Lance pulls gently away. He can see the deeper browns in Lance’s irises, the places where the gold gives way to near-black. They look like the flecks of the precious metal Keith would see at the bottom of the river mud in the mountains of Arizona.

“They were worth keeping,” Lance says quietly. He holds Keith’s gaze. The tips of his fingers trace Keith’s temples; they’re rough with old guitar callouses.

“You think everything is worth keeping.”

“Only the things that — bleed.”

Keith thinks that they’re both right. Lance can’t leave anything behind because he aches for the soul he finds in it. He finds the worth in everything. He found the worth in Keith.

He found enough to make Keith stay.

Keith grips the book in his right hand, left still cupped around Lance’s cheek. The difference in textures is startling, grounding.

“No one has ever done something like that for me before,” Keith admits. There’s a lump in his throat but Keith thinks it’s manageable, thinks he can talk through it. Thinks he might hold the strength for it.

Lance waits patiently.

“I want to —” Keith stops. He opens the book. The drawn Lance smiles up at him, beautiful. He looks up and Lance smiles over at him, breathtaking. “I —”

He doesn’t know how to say it. It’s there, bubbling in his chest, spilling out of him; obvious. But he doesn’t know the words for it. He’s not sure anyone’s taught him before.

“Okay,” Lance says. He tugs his wrist out of Keith’s grip then laces their hands together, squeezing. His smile only widens and he — sparkles, almost. Keith’s throat goes dry.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Lance repeats, teasing. He leans in again. “I’m going to kiss you again, now.”

“Please,” Keith begs, and he does.

———

based on this post

[bleepzip]

warm afternoon

[riceisgood123]

Hey hey! I just finally finished a piece that I've had in the works for nearly a year :D It's a Klance secret relationship sickfic and it's almost 19k of pure fluff (with a tiny hint of angst and a dash of humor).

So if you're in for some soft Klance, look no further!!

But do heed the tags, it has a mature rating for a reason ;)

[hypfden]

Soft sketches

In relation to the other post. Soft and silly