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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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Lance never shuts the fuck up.

Keith can’t get enough of it.

It’s been like that for as long as Keith can remember. Lance was the motormouth in, like, 6 of his classes; always had his hand up with a question or answer, and comments in between. Keith had been annoyed with it, that first year.

But then he’d shared classes with Lance again.

And again.

By then, they’d had their fair share of group projects together. Keith came to know that for all he was a rambling mess, Lance was really fucking smart, and funny besides. He was also endlessly kind and supportive, at least when he wasn’t egging on their rivalry that he’d invented (and that Keith hadn’t known they’d had — not that he wasn’t an active participant, once he knew. Riling Lance up was the most fun he’d had in ages).

Keith doesn’t remember exactly when he’d started smiling whenever Lance looked at him, feeling proud whenever Lance got a question right in class. Doesn’t remember when the mild annoyance turned to genuine appreciation. He does remember looking down at his notes one day, in Algebra II, only to discover a blank page, and realising that he’d spent the whole class just watching Lance talk. (He also remembers feeling pleased instead of the disappointment he should have felt, because he figured he’d have an excuse to hear Lance talk more if he asked him to help Keith catch up. He knew he was in quite the mess, then.)

Keith knew he had a crush on Lance, after that. And Keith was never one to sit idly — he’d asked Lance on a date right then and there. Lance had, for the first time in Keith’s working memory, gone speechless. (And quite the pretty shade of red.)

The speechlessness didn’t last long, that’s for damn certain. Keith took Lance to the Applebee’s at the plaza near his house that very night, because Shiro worked there and would give him a discount. Also, Lance had once mentioned he liked the lemonade there.

Keith met Lance there because neither of them had their full license yet. He doesn’t remember what exact table they sat at, only that they must have been near a window, because Keith remembers swooning over the sunlight warming Lance’s beautiful brown eyes no less than six times. They’d ordered, Keith some sort of fried dish and Lance — Lance had ordered a four-cheese fettuccine with a garden salad and, of course, a lemonade. Keith remembers so specifically because Lance spent the next thirty minutes excitedly telling him every piece of history surrounding the dish, down to the prehistoric origins of wheat-made pasta and the disturbing account of the first pink lemonade. He’d looked sheepish after looking at his watch and realising how long he’d been talking, and Keith hadn’t known how to assure him that Lance could narrate every detail of paint drying in a wall and Keith would swallow up every word.

(Later that night, Shiro sent him a picture he took while the both of them were distracted — Lance, animatedly waving a fork in the air as he lectured, and Keith, chin in his hands, meal forgotten, looking at Lance with a face more besotted than he knew he was even capable of making.

Keith sent the photo to Lance, asking him if he’d like to go out again, confessing that he enjoyed every second of Lance’s rambling.

Lance said yes. Very quickly.)

The rest, to a degree, had been history. They’d dated for the rest of high school, staying together even as they attended university and trade school on either side of the country. It was easy, really. Lance made sure they always had something to talk about. (Lance loved university. He was enamoured with every second of it, every niche interest of his getting its fill. He switched his major fourteen separate times, chasing every one of his ambitions, and Keith loved every story he heard. He also liked becoming an expert by proxy, because that was inevitable — you could only hear about the important of spiders in the ecosystem so many dozen times before the information was reflective whenever someone brought up the subject.)

As soon as Keith got his mechanic’s certificate — and he passed his exam in the highest percentile, meaning he could practice anywhere in the country, much to his pleasure and Lance’s overwhelming pride — he took off to California, his one and only thought being that he had to get to Lance. (Not that it had been impulsive — this was planned, something they’d been waiting for. Did Keith run over as soon as he could? Yeah, kinda. So maybe it was a little impulsive. But mostly it was planned.)

Not to sound like a Disney princess, but Keith really felt like their life began once they moved in together. Keith was able to find a job at a pretty decent garage, bring in money for them immediately. Lance had his library job until he graduated, and of course then he was snatched up by the nearest ecological restoration effort — he got to spend his days crawling through the forest, fawning over every tiny bug and critter. He is so fucking cute. Keith loves him more than anything in the world.

Lance’s constant lectures never stopped, either — any interest he picked up, he told Keith about it. From his knitting club to the new beetle species he’d found at work, Keith got the pleasure of hearing about it. And it truly was a pleasure. Keith had his fair share of time being a motormouth, too — he’d bought a project bike as soon as they’d saved enough, and spent a fair chunk of free time building it back up. (Lance helped, or at least as much as he could. Mostly he sat in their garage, handing Keith tools, and talking about anything he could think of. If Keith could go back and tell his ten year old self what his future would look like… God. Sometimes he can’t even believe how lucky he got.)

Keith has it made. He comes home from work every day to Lance’s beaming smile and gentle teasing about the grease on his clothes. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted. He’s happy. So fucking happy.

Except that things have been a little different, recently. For the past few weeks, he’s been coming home to his usual smile and kiss, but the idle chattering or excited rambles — Keith feels as if they’ve become a rarity. Their home used to be filled with the sound of Lance’s voice, silent only when he’s reading or focused intently on something, eyes narrowed and tongue peeking out of his mouth.

Lance still looks happy. He still curls up with Keith on the couch after dinner, socked feet in Keith’s lap and three million blankets over his shoulders. He still sends Keith a myriad of heart emojis on his lunch break. Their sex life has not suffered.

But the lectures. The constant infodumps of whatever passing thing has grabbed Lance’s attention. They’re gone. And Keith’s devastated about it.

He misses Lance’s voice.

———

Shiro is not getting it.

“It doesn’t sound like a big deal,” he says, voice staticky because signal at the shop is ass. “I mean, maybe you two are just growing up and settling down. How long have you guys been together, now? Seven years? Eight?”

“Almost ten,” Keith says quietly.

Ten years of the same thing. This change is new. It’s strange, and Shiro isn’t getting it at all.

“Exactly! Ten years! You guys were so young when you started dating, kiddo. Hell, Lance was still wearing braces, wasn’t he? I’m not shocked that he’s mellowed out a little.” He chuckles to himself. “Hell, maybe he’s finally just learnt every bit of knowledge he finally can.”

Keith frowns. “I dunno, Shiro. Sometimes I feel like he wants to say something, but he’s holding himself back. Why would he ever hold himself back from me? I don’t — I don’t want him to hold back from me. I like it when he talks.”

“Tell him that, then. The only way you’re going to get answers is if you ask him, you dork.”

“Some brother you are,” Keith mutters, pouting. “You’re supposed to solve things for me.”

“Hm. Pretty sure you’re a grown-ass man who’s capable of solving his own problems, bud.”

“Ugh. You’re horrible. I’m changing the Netflix password to kick you off.”

Shiro laughs. “Sure! No more Costco membership for you. Password sharing goes both ways, you little snot. Now hang up and call your man. I have to leave for work soon.”

Despite his ongoing frustration, Keith can’t help a smile at the familiar banter. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your upcoming fourteen hour shift of hell.”

“Go fuck yourself! Love you!”

“Love you too. Bye.”

It shouldn’t really surprise him that Shiro’s no help. As much as he pesters his brother as often as possible and generally finds joy in making himself into a nuisance, they haven’t seen each other face-to-face since Christmas. They’ve lived in different states for years.

But, still. There’s some part of Keith that will always think of his big brother first when he has a problem. And that part of him had the right ideas, because Shiro is unfortunately right — he really does just need to talk to Lance. There’s not much else he can do.

He spends the rest of his shift wondering how he’s going to bring it up. He has his own motormouth moments, sure, but realistically? Keith doesn’t talk all the much. He’s more of an action person. How the hell is he supposed to breach the subject? ‘Hey, Lance. I’ve noticed that you are talking less. This change has consumed my every thought. I miss the sound of your voice. How come you don’t talk to me about your life anymore?’

Yeah, no. It sounds ridiculous even in his own head. He’ll have to — plan it out, maybe. He’s not sure. He’s never had to worry about making Lance talk more before.

He’s so distracted that he nearly burns off his eyeballs, forgetting to put on his welding mask before trying to make a part he couldn’t source for an older car. His boss sends him home early, worried he might accidentally leave a blowtorch by an air compressor or something and send the whole place up in smoke. Keith tries to take it as a blessing — maybe he’ll ride around on his bike for a while and clear his head. A way to bring it up might come to him naturally.

It doesn’t. He spends the whole ride just stressing himself out. He does drive by a flower stand, and turns around to pick up some poppies and peonies — Lance’s favourite. It won’t breach the subject, or anything, but it’ll make Lance smile. Hell, maybe he’ll start talking to Keith about all the different pollinators that made this bouquet possible. That would be a dream come true.

He hasn’t come up with any new ideas by the time he makes his way home, but he’s less stressed. He sets the flowers on the counter and takes a quick shower. Maybe he’ll start some dinner? Surprise Lance, for a change. Yeah. That won’t solve the problem, but it’ll be nice anyway.

He starts making four-cheese fettuccine and pink lemonade, because he is a sappy loser.

By the time he hears Lance’s key in the lock, he’s got the table set and the food is done. He keeps it heated on the stove, ducking into the bathroom to check his reflection as Lance steps into the apartment.

No grease smudges on his face. His hair is braided, the way that always makes Lance all blushy. He’s wearing the v-neck, too-tight black sweater that Lance likes, too. He’s got this. He doesn’t have a solid plan, or anything, but he thinks maybe if he turns up the romance then Lance will just spill whatever’s wrong. That works in the movies.

“Keith, baby? You home?”

“You have leaves in your hair,” Keith says, stepping out to meet Lance by the door. Lance smiles immediately, laughing to himself as he cards his fingers through his hair in an attempt to find them. Keith takes pity on him after a few seconds of fruitless searching, reaching forward and running gentle hands through the curly mess of his boyfriend’s hair, half to get out the leaves and half just to touch.

“Yeah — climbed a tree to check out a new weaver ant colony. Watched ‘em for hours — pretty boring, I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.”

I want to hear about it, Keith thinks mournfully. Please, please tell me about it.

“I made pasta,” Keith says quietly, when it’s clear that no more details are forthcoming. “And, uh, got you some flowers.” He tugs Lance gently towards the kitchen, placing the flowers in his hands.

“Oh, Keith, they’re gorgeous! Man, I love peonies. They looks like pink cabbages, it’s the best. And poppies —”

Yes, Keith thinks. Tell me about how California poppies were traditionally used as stress-relief medicine, but not like opioid red poppies. Tell me —

“I should put these in a vase,” Lance says instead of any of that. Keith feels like he could cry, honestly. Lance leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek, patting him on the chest. “You want to set the table while I do that? Or do you want to eat on the couch and watch a movie?”

“Table sounds good,” Keith says, because if they watch a movie then there’s no chance of Keith finding out what’s wrong.

“Okay! I’m going to get changed, too, I’ll meet you in ten.” Lance kisses him again and then rushes off. Keith waits until he’s disappeared into their bedroom to cover his face in his hands and scream silently.

Fuck! He just wants his Lance back. So badly. He wants to be woken up at strange hours of the night to hear about how trees communicate. He wants to get spam-texted as he’s trying to work, phone practically buzzing out of his pocket. He wants to hear about marketing strategies when they’re grocery shopping. He wants Lance to get distracted mid-sex by reading the back of the condom box, and then remarking with vague interest that they use the same dye in some cereals.

At the very least, he wants to know why Lance is acting so strange.

“So,” Lance says, once they’ve both settled down at the table and started to eat. “How come you’re home early?”

“Boss sent me home, I was distracted. I’m not mad, honestly. It’s been a while since I’ve done something special for you, which is a travesty.”

Lance smiles. “Dork. I appreciate it, though. Very sweet of you.” He shifts in his seat, tucking his legs up under him and leaning his head on his chin to look at Keith properly. “How come you were distracted?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Thinkin’ about this hot bod all day?”

Keith huffs a laugh. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Tell me! I’m curious now. I have to know or I’ll die.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Mhm. That’s not even the half of it, and you know it. If you don’t tell me right now I’ll just start listing the names of royals throughout European history and how freaky it is that most of them are directly related.”

Lance is teasing. His tone is light and playful; he’s obviously trying to goad Keith into playing along and groaning theatrically. A few weeks ago, Keith might have given in easily, and started ribbing him about why on Earth he has the names memorized in the first place.

But all Keith can think about is just how badly he would love to hear that.

“Promise?”

Keith’s voice comes out embarrassingly sincere. Soft and hopeful and dead-serious.

Lance’s hand stills, mid pasta-swirl.

“You…want me to? List names of inbred royals?”

Keith swallows. It’s as good of a segue as any, he supposes.

“Yeah.”

“…Why?”

“Because I — I miss your voice, I guess.”

“Keith, I talk all the time,” Lance says, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He snorts to himself. “One might even say it’s my defining quality.”

“You haven’t been. Not recently. You used to talk all the time, but now — I dunno. The house is quiet. I miss you talking about random things. I miss hearing about your day and the million creatures you met and the people you saw on the bus home and the weirdly-shaped stone you tripped over on the sidewalk. I miss you bazillion lunch-break texts. I miss your running commentary when we watch a movie, even though you miss important dialogue and have to rewind to hear it again. I dunno. I just miss you.”

Keith keeps his eyes downcast on his plate as he speaks, and keeps it there after he finishes. He’s finished his food, already, but he can’t bring himself to look at Lance’s face.

“Keith?”

There’s a strange quality to Lance’s voice, a sort of — bewildered breathlessness. Keith risks a glance, finding his boyfriend staring at him with a dropped jaw and wide brown eyes.

“You really — you miss my motormouth?”

Keith shrugs. “I fell in love with your motormouth. Of course I miss it.”

That makes Lance’s cheeks heat, and he glances down at his plate like they’re teenagers again and Keith told him he was cute for the first time.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Keith’s not sure what else to say. He doesn’t know how to express that there’s nothing that Lance does that he dislikes, not truly. Sure, it’s annoying when Lance leaves a million half-full cups of water around the apartment, and Keith is regularly tripping over the shoes that he never puts away for some reason, but there’s nothing — every part of him is precious to Keith. Everything he does and everything he is, Keith knows he can’t live without.

“I know you love me,” Lance whispers. He looks pointedly away from Keith, pushing a couple wayward noodles around on his plate. “I’ve never — I’ve never needed to doubt that.”

Keith swallows. “Good.”

“I — yeah. You show me all the time. And, I mean, look at today! You brought me flowers home just because. You do things like that for me regularly; I never forget that you care about me. But —”

One word. Three measly letters. But it’s enough to feel like a stone is dropping on Keith’s chest.

“— sometimes I feel like I’m too much? Like, I’m kind of intense. I know that. And I can’t always tell when I’m being weird or annoying. And you’d never — you’d never string me along, I know that. If you stopped loving me you’d tell me.”

“I would never stop loving you.” Keith can’t say the words fast enough. He wants to print them out and — tattoo them on his forehead. Melt them into gold and press them into Lance’s hands. Smash them to dust and sprinkle them in the air. Whatever — whatever it takes to prove to Lance that they’re true.

Lance bites his lip. His eyes are wet. “I — I don’t want us to —”

Keith doesn’t wait for the tears to fall. He stands and hurries the two feet over to Lance’s chair, carefully pulling him up and wrapping tight arms around his waist. Lance falls into him willingly, resting his forehead on Keith’s shoulder and leaning into him.

“Three of my coworkers think I’m annoying,” he whispers, long after the food’s gone cold and the light from the window has begun to dim. After Keith’s arms have gone a little numb and a wet spot has grown where Lance’s face is pressed into his shirt. “I just thought — I thought we were friends, but I heard them talking about how exhausting I am to be around. I don’t want — I don’t want you to get tired of me, too.”

Keith closes his eyes as he exhales in a shudder, firmly reminding himself that unfortunately, being a two-faced asshole is not illegal, and Keith has no defense for hunting those shitheads down and murdering them a little.

“They are not worth the ground you walk on,” Keith whispers, pressing a firm kiss to Lance’s hair. “You have more value in your toenail clippings than they do in their entire bodies.”

Lance giggles wetly. “Gross.”

”I mean it,” Keith says, smiling. “I love you, Lance. All of you. I never get tired of listening to you talk. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

———

It takes a while. Those asshole coworkers did a number on Lance’s self-esteem, because they’re horrible, and they deserve every horrible thing that happens to them. Honestly, Keith kind of hopes their cars break down and they have to spend ridiculous amounts of money getting them fixed by idiots, because Keith has quietly blacklisted them to every good mechanic in town. (Not that Lance knows. Lance is too nice to ask for something like that. Keith, however, is a bitch, and has no problem doing shady things to appease his own sense of justice.)

Eventually, though, the apartment stops being so silent. It starts with a shark documentary that takes them three hours to watch because Lance keeps pausing it to point out specific behaviours to Keith. And then they get kicked out of a casino they go to for shits and giggles, because Lance can’t contain himself and points out how the house is strategically winning all the card games they’re calling ‘luck-based’. And then grocery store trips start taking too long again, and Lance gets distracted mid-shower comparing the ingredients of shampoo and conditioner, and then they start a small fire in the apartment because he was explaining how broccoli evolved from mustard seed and burnt a whole pan of stir-fry to a crisp.

One day, seemingly out of the blue, Shiro sends him a picture of him and Lance, fifteen years old, at the shitty town Applebee’s.

I was looking at old pictures, the text reads. And you were right. It is strange that Lance was so quiet. I can’t imagine how that would feel. I’m glad you two worked things out.

Keith looks over at Lance, who’s singing a the periodic table song to himself as he washes the dishes for Keith to dry, and smiles.

He’s glad they worked it out, too.

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freckled-moss · 7 months

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I was snickering and giggling into my hand the whole time I drew this

#Keith is so autistic #i love him #lance loves him too #klance #klance fluff #klance art #Keith kogane #Lance McClain #Keith x lance #Voltron #fanart #art #animatic #moss draws

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vldsideblog · 1 year

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So you’ve heard of “Lance talks about Keith and Spanish and Keith has no idea what’s going on” a beloved classic

But I bring you “Keith’s a born and raised Texan, (Texas has one of the highest Spanish speaking populations in the US) who was also partially raised by Adam who spoke Spanish around the house a lot. And so he understands most of what Lance is saying but is to embarrassed to admit he knows that Lance has talked about how soft his hair looked on at least three separate occasions “

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keithsautism · 6 months

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I feel like Keith and Lance are both ND but in different ways. Keith is the kind of guy who would really like physical contact and words of affirmation as love languages. He's pretty good at telling Lance how he feels about him later in the series. He'd probably appreciate the lack of ambiguity and take things at face value/put trust in I love yous.

Meanwhile Lance grew up in a big family so they might not have had as much money. Receiving gifts was a really big deal for him growing up. I can imagine Keith giving Lance a cool blue shell he found at an alien market and being all confused, thinking Lance doesn't like it when he goes still. Like he wants to take it back and is disappointed that Lance doesn't like it. But he does, he's just a bit overwhelmed by the gesture. Trying to show why he thought getting some silly shell was a good idea, Keith meekly tells him to look at this pretty part of it, turning it over in Lance's hands, pointing out an opalescent part that's all different kinds of blues. Says it reminds him of Lance's eyes.

Lance says something like "How would you know what colour my eyes are" because eye contact is not Keith's forte, but there's no bite behind it, and Keith doesn't get the joke anyway, just looks nervous. Keith just says they're pretty, as if he couldn't not have noticed. Lance puts it down on his side table gently. Keith says "You don't like it?" Lance gives him a super tender kiss. They kiss for a while holding each other, and Keith hugs him, sighing with contentment into lance's shoulder. Says "Holding you feels like home" then Lance dies on the spot

#klance #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #lance mcclain #I'm normal about autistic!keith pay no attention to my URL #Idk I think theyd have some really cool overlap/interactions with their love languages. Imagine that Keith would be a bit shy #to initiate physical contact at first but then gets confident and does it in public which Lance finds really embarrassing but secretly #endearing. I have another scenario for that too............ mb i should poste it...#whereas keith just lets lance know how loved & valued he is. How he thinks of him all the time. I LOVE THEM #Keith would become a limpet tho. He would become ATTACHED to Lance. He has an emotion and the first thing he does is go to find Lance #like a safety blanket or to share the excitement #fight me/train w me/hold me/lemme hold you/i gotta tell you this joke shiro said (its not funny)/I didnt sleep well/can we nap/#/look at this cool shell I found (for you)

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quantifiableme · 1 year

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As much as I dont wanna write Klance fanfic in 2023, there is a lack of Rock Band Aus in fandom.

Like Lance and Keith are both guitarists in separate bands.

Keith is the youngest member in The Blade of Mamora, which is an older rock band that’s reviving itself and they added Keith as their new guy (because the old guitarist was a perv or smth idk)

And Lance is the lead singer/guitarist/front runner for his pop-punk band he started from his garage with Hunk and Pidge. They have reasonable success, but are no where near as prolific as The Blade. (They’re like 1975. Def famous, but they aren’t doing area tours.) They call themselves Voltron.

Lance is a competitive idiot, and got into guitars because he saw an article about Music Prodigy Keith when he was a kid. He started his band when Keith was asked to join the Blade at like 17.

Now that Voltron is becoming more popular, they’re doing small interviews with like Buzzfeed, and Lance has this big speech about how Keith is his mortal enemy despite never havjng met him. Keith doesn’t watch these or have social media, but he hears about the rivarly through Shiro (his big bro and manager) but ultimately doesn’t care.

Shiro, though, sees how unhappy Keith is with the Blade. He’s like 19 now and spending all this time with 40-50 year old men, who are nice and offer guidence, but like they can’t be besties. They also all treat Keith like a nephew, so Keith is super behind in social skills.

So Voltron is getting signed by the same Blade of Mamora record company, and Shiro overhears a meeting where they are discussing strategy. (The pop division is run by Allura (daughter of CEO) and she is eager to prove herself.) Allura sees Lance’s ability to really loose himself with the crowd and in his singing, and wants to push him to sing more WITHOUT the guitar.

Shiro hears this and meets with Allura later to offer Keith as the new lead guitar.

*chaos ensues*

#autistic keith #keith voltron #keith kogane #lance mcclain #lance voltron #klance #rock band au #voltron #voltron legendary defender

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verdantmeadows · 1 year

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The headcanon that Keith didn't recognize Lance and fell or began to fall for him that early on because 1, Keith thought Lance was named Taylor due to the fact he says "they call me tailor the way I thread the needle" (since Keith often struggles to understand turns of phrases or things like that), 2, Keith has semi to total face blindness, and 3, Lance was a girl at the time (pre-transition) and Keith thought he liked a girl named Taylor, not a boy named Lance.

#also thinking he was taylor fuels the evidence that keith is autistic #vld #voltron legendary defender #klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #book of kells #also the it means he had a crush on the dorkier version of lance which is important

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corvus--rex · 10 months

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I have so goddamn many screenshots from this game. They have so many ridiculous conversations. I got that autism infinity and immediately had to give it to Lance. I also forgot that purple was an option, so now Keith is a purple catboy as he should be.

#vld #keith kogane #lance mcclain #keith x lance #klance #autistic lance #voltron #voltron legendary defender

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starrstrucksapphic · 6 months

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Autistic Klance headcanons!

- Keith usually forgets to bring stim toys with him when he goes out, so he just fidgets with random stuff (his hands, Lance’s jacket, etc.) until Lance notices and hands him a stim toy to use instead

- Keith is a “I need to wear socks or else I will explode” autistic and Lance is a “If I have to put on socks I will explode” autistic

- They 100% have nights where they take turns infodumping abt their special interests

- Keith chews through things like his life depends on it! He chews on anything he can get his hands on (bottle caps, straws, a fucking spatula???)

- Lance bought him a heavy duty chew necklace shaped like a shark tooth and it was ripped to shreds within a week

- Sometimes they lay on each other bcuz deep pressure stim!!!

- Their stim playlists are DRASTICALLY different. Lance’s playlist consists of: Owl City, video game music, 2010s pop and indie! Keith’s is nu-metal and cafe music????

#HIIIII #vld posting #kin stuff #literally all of these are based on me and my lovely wife #bcuz we are literally klance hashtag real #i barely ever see any autistic lance content broken heart emoji #actually autistic #autistic headcanon #voltron #voltron in 2023 #klance #keith kogane #lance is very audhd (just like me fr)#lance mcclain #special interest #vld #autistic keith #autistic lance

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almondespair · 8 months

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i think deep down lance and keith are me fr

#klance #voltron #keith kogane #lance mcclain #they’re just like me fr #i’m so lance but also so keith #mostly lance but??#keith’s emo autistic ass too #THEYRE BOTH AUTISTIC

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the-kittens-of-vol-tron · 1 year

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Magic

Based off my head canon here!

-----

Crying.

So much crying.

Keith thought he was going to pull his hair out of his scalp. He needed that crying to stop. He chewed on his inner cheek, he was losing his mind.

“Okay...singing? Maybe they like singing.” Hunk scratched his head in thought.

“Oh! Oh! I know just the song!” Lance started softly singing a song to the child he was holding. Did the kid start crying louder?

“Lance just stop!!” Keith shouted some, covering his ears with his head. If he didn’t get some sort of relief from that sound he was going to cry.

Everyone stared at him, the kid still crying in Lance’s arms.

“What? You don’t like my singing?” Lance angrily questioned.

Keith shook his head, “it wasn’t helping.” He scrunched his eyes closed, keeping his hands hovering over his ears.

“Well do you have a better idea mullet? Everyone has given some idea of how to help and you’ve just been silently looking in pain.” Lance began to bounce the kid up and down slightly as he hugged them tighter. “Shhh, it’s okay. We’ll find your parents soon.”

The others were talking but it all melted in Keith's mind. He felt like he was going insane. A thought popped into his head and he dropped his hands. “Put them down.”

The team stared at him questionably. “What?” Lance said, holding the child away from him some.

Keith groaned, “just put the kid down for a second. I have an idea.”

It took Lance a couple of moments but he eventually placed the kid on the ground. Kneeling next to him.

Keith lowered himself down, trying his best to offer a smile to the kid. The kid was still crying, rubbing their eyes. New tears quickly replaced the ones wiped away.

Keith took a deep breath, “look at this.” He showed the child his empty hand and reached behind their ear. Revealing a GAC piece.

The kid stared at him, the sobbing sound lessening some. Lance made a questioning noise beside the kid but Keith ignored it. He did the same trick on the other ear, pressing the two coins into the kid's hand.

“Let me see your hand.”

The kid stuck their empty hand out. Sniffling slightly. But no longer crying.

Keith could already feel himself calming down some. “Make a fist.”

The kid squeezed their hand shut.

Keith snapped his finger's over their closed hand. “Okay, open it.”

The kid did, their eyes widening at a green form ball in their hand. “Wh-what?”

Keith smiled at them, “close your hand again.”

The kid did and Keith snapped his fingers again. “Go ahead and look.”

The kid smiled as they opened their hand and saw another ball. Keith kept the tricks going. Doing as many as he could with what he had access to. The kid stopped crying, taking favor of giggling instead.

“Silas! There you are!” Two women rushed towards them, tears streaking their faces. Shiro jogged behind them, looking relieved.

“Mama! Mommy! This guy knows magic!” The kid cried back.

Keith stood up, watching the kid be reunited with their parents. Ignoring the stares Lance directed at him.

---

He stepped out of his lion, he was tired. All he wanted to do was climb into his bed and lay in the dark. Lay in silence.

He made it a couple of steps out of his hanger when he heard footsteps rushing behind him. He didn’t grab his weapon, they were familiar. “What do you want Lance?”

The blue paladin skidded to a stop behind him. “HOW DID YOU DO THAT!”

Keith sighed, turning around to face his team member. “Do what?”

“THE-THE MAGIC!”

Keith waved him off, “it was just something I learned while living in the desert. Nothing too impressive.”

Lance stuttered some sounds, clearly not wanting the conversation to end there. “Show me!”

Keith shook his head.

Lance marched closer, “show me how you did that right now.”

Keith shook his right arm some, his fingers catching the card that slid down. He held it up, it was the Ace of Spades. Lance stared at it with a mix of confusion and wonder.

Keith twisted the card around his fingers, letting it charge to the King of Hearts.

Lance’s jaw might have well been on the floor. He was still like a statue.

Keith let the card slide back down his sleeve and made his way to his room. He was tired.

-----

You can read Keith as autistic. That’s how I wrote him

Hope you liked it!!! <3

#autistic keith #autistic author #magic keith #party magic #keith #keith vld #keith voltron #keith kogane #keith voltron legendary defender #lance #lance vld #lance voltron #lance voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #based off my prompt

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mikey-way-enthusiast · 10 months

Text

Pidge: Guys i have a joke

keith: what is it

pidge: so a snake walks in to a bar and goes up to the bartender and sits on the closest chair

lance: what’s the punchline??

pidge: im not done yet idiot. anyways once the snake does that the bartender asks him “how tf did u just do that 💀”

lance: and how tf did u just put the skull emoji in ur voice…?

pidge: new apple update

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

“And for the tasks we have today…” Allura says, flipping to a page in her sparkly pink planner (a gift from Pidge and Lance via the space mall, that Allura loved to pieces), “we need two people for a supply run, and one person to do that diplomatic mission for the Coalitions newest ally.”

“Do you have anyone in particular in mind?”

“Nope! Up to you.”

“Alright,” Shiro says, “I know Pidge and Hunk have that hyrdroponic system they’re hoping to work on today, so that leaves them out.”

“Coran mentioned he wanted to test his new training sim for any errors before he has us try it,” Allura adds.

“So that leaves you, me, Keith, and Lance available,” Shiro summarizes.

The words aren’t even out of his mouth before Allura’s hand fly to her nose: “Dibs on free time!” she shouts, and Shiro scowls.

“Not fair,” he complains, but Allura just shrugs at him.

“Bulk up the reflexes, beefcake,” she says, and dear Lord he needs to keep Pidge as far away from the princess as possible, apparently.

“Fine,” Shiro concedes with a sigh. “I guess I’ll go on the supply run.” He grins, suddenly remembering something that makes him very happy about this arrangement, actually.

Allura narrows her eyes. “Why are you happy about that. You should not be happy about that. You hate supply runs.”

Shiro rubs his hands together like a cartoon villain, because he feels like one, and it’s great. “I do hate supply runs. But. I was up early this morning, and I happened to see Keith come out of Lance’s room instead of his own, and I am suddenly very grateful for several hours locked in a pod with him, where he cannot leave the conversation and I can be as annoying as possible.”

“Hey, you withheld information! That’s not fair! If I had known there was klance drama I would’ve taken the supply run!”

Shiro smiles smugly at her. “Bulk up on the reconnaissance, beefcake,” he taunts.

Allura rolls her eyes. “It sounds dorky when you say it.”

Unfortunately she is correct, but Shiro left his dignity behind on Earth several years ago, so it truly does not matter.

“Don’t care,” Shiro says serenely. “Anyways, that leaves Lance for the diplomatic mission, which is good. He’s great at those, and he seems to like them. Well, I think he does.”

Allura raises an eyebrow. “You think?”

“I genuinely cannot get a read on him. Every time I give him a solo diplomatic mission, he gets this — pinched expression, almost? But then he gets all excited about making friends, so. I’m not sure how to interpret that one.”

“That is strange,” Allura agrees. “He’s usually pretty straightforward.”

“I know! But he does a really good job on the missions, so I think he’s happy with them? If he asks me to stop then I will, but until then…”

“No, I think he’s fine. He might just be nervous, you know he sometimes doubts himself.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I’ll make sure to remind him that we’re proud of him.”

“Good. We’re done here, then? I have free time to enjoy.”

Shiro sticks his tongue out at her. “Yes, you horrible cheater.”

She smirks back at him, gathering her sparkly planner and several dozen gel pens up before prancing out of the briefing room, wiggling her fingers in a smug little wave, because she is a horrible jerk.

Shiro rolls his eyes fondly, pulling up the files for the diplomatic mission and sending Lance a quick message on the comms, asking him to come down. It’s really only a sort of official welcoming into the Coalition; getting paperwork signed and meeting all necessary government officials, which is why it’s a one-paladin job. And Lance is one of their best in terms of socializing, so he gets sent on these missions often.

“Is that the mission folder?”

The voice comes suddenly, right next to his ear, making Shiro screech and jump so hard he nearly falls out of his chair.

“Jesus Christ, Holy Joseph, and the Mother Mary!” he shouts, pressing a hand on top of his galloping heart. He glares at the perpetrator. “Why do you keep doing that, Lance?!”

“S — sorry,” Lance tries, but he’s laughing to much for Shiro to buy it.

“You are not sorry, you little jackass,” Shiro snaps, but there is very little heat behind it. “You enjoy doing that every time.”

“I would enjoy it less if you had a less funny reaction.”

“My reaction is not that funny.”

“Shiro, you act like an astonished old Catholic lady. It’s funny every time.”

“It’s not that funny! Lots of people yell the lord’s name in vain when they’re startled!”

“Shiro, you’re a Buddhist.”

“Which is why it’s okay for me to do it! It’s not a sin for me!”

“Whatever, you goober,” Lance says. “Tell me about the mission.”

Shiro glares at Lance one last time, just so he knows he is Not Forgiven, before moving on.

“Right. The newest planet to join the Coalition — planet Juyin — needs our official welcoming spiel, and you’re my best bet to get that done. You’re very good at making people at ease.” Shiro makes sure to slip in a compliment, keeping his and Allura’s conversation in mind.

Lance still gets the pinched expression.

“Okay,” he says, and turns his gaze towards the file, biting his lip as he reads it over.

Shiro is familiar with the routine. Lance will read the file carefully, every word, then ask Shiro a million questions about the planet’s cultural norms — “Is eye contact seen as a form of aggression?” “Am I allowed to speak without asking permission, or is that offensive?” “Can I wear my paladin armour or do I need to get fancy clothes?” “Is there a type of greeting I should memorize?” — that are very thoughtful, and that Shiro can never answer.

(They usually end up asking Coran.)

Then Lance will slowly lose his pinched expression as he learns more about the planet’s culture, getting excited about all the people he’s going to meet an inevitably befriend, and then he’s off to complete the mission with ease. (After which he comes home and immediately ducks into his room, because “I’ve been smiling all day, Shiro, I need to do some extra skincare or I’ll get wrinkles. Do you want me to get wrinkles?”)

Lance finishes reading the file, then turns to face Shiro. Shiro braces himself for an onslaught of questions, and readies himself to message Coran —

“Is this your way of quietly kicking me off Voltron?”

— and freezes.

Huh?

“Pardon?”

Lance swallows roughly, eyes trained on his fidgety hands.

“Um, I asked if this is your way of kicking me off the team,” Lance repeats.

Shiro has never felt more like his brain was completely empty, because he has no fucking clue what to say.

“No, I got that,” he says, unsure how to proceed. “I just don’t understand where it’s coming from, buddy.”

“Well, you’re setting me up to fail, right? Giving me missions that I can’t do very well until I inevitably screw up, so then you have a real reason to get rid of me?”

Shiro feels completely lost. What is going on?

“Lance, I don’t understand. Why would I ever want you off my team?”

Lance shrugs. His eyes are still downcast, but to Shiro’s horror, a tear drips down his cheek.

“I dunno. I can’t really offer much, not like everyone else. And I’m frustrating and annoying and I mess up a lot and I’m not very smart and most people only tolerate me because they have to and —”

“Lance, breathe,” Shiro interrupts, scrambling forward to kneel in front of Lance, holding his hands tightly. “In and out, buddy, just like I’m doing. Take a minute. In and out. Just like that. Good, okay? You’re doing great.”

The tears don’t stop when Lance stops hyperventilating; if anything, they drip down faster.

Shiro has no idea how the situation slipped from him so fast.

“Lance, no one is frustrated with you, or annoyed. You’re plenty smart. No one ‘puts up with you’, we hang out with because we like you. Where’s this coming from, kiddo?”

Lance shrugs, sniffling. “You keep sending me on missions I can’t do right. When I fail, you’re not going to say it, obviously, but then you’ll have an excuse to tell me that I can’t be the blue paladin anymore and it’ll be out of your hands.”

Shiro is so confused, and a definitely little panicky. Where on Earth — or in space — is this coming from? How long has Lance been feeling this way?

And, most importantly: how can Shiro fix it?

“Lance,” Shiro says gently, “I send you on these types of missions because you’re very good at them, and because you always look excited about meeting new people. I am absolutely not looking for a reason to get rid of you; and even if I was, I would never be so underhanded about it. I promise. But seriously, hun, where is this coming from?”

Lance’s chin trembles, and more tears stream down his face. He untangles his hands from Shiro’s to press them tightly to his face. “That’s what Iverson did,” he says, muffled. “He would give me simulations that we’re different than everyone else’s and really hard for me, because he knew I’d mess up and then he’d have more of an excuse to kick me out of fighter class. I figured you were doing the same because you only really send me on the solo diplomatic missions, so.”

Shiro feels an intense mix of fury, guilt, and sorrow whirl around in his stomach. Fury because fuck Iverson — Shiro has always hated that man — and everything he’s done to Lance, who most certainly did not deserve it, and especially not as a young, still-learning kid. Guilt because he cannot believe he’s been putting Lance through this — however accidentally — and not noticed. And sorrow because, obviously, Lance is hurting, and he hates it when his kids are hurting.

“I’m not doing what Iverson is doing, Lance,” Shiro promises quietly. “I send you on these missions because I never realized you struggled with them. I thought you liked them.”

Lance peeks through his fingers to glance at Shiro, brown eyes wet and rimmed with red. When he evidently decides that Shiro is telling the truth, he drops his hands from his face, slipping them back under Shiro’s. Shiro takes the hint, squeezing them again.

“I like the part where I get to meet new people,” Lance says. “But it’s hard because I can’t read human social cues very well, let alone alien ones, so I always think I’m going to fuck up and then they’re going to get mad and call off the alliance and then their people will be unprotected and it will be all my fault. And I do fuck up all the time, too. I keep having to make up lies so they don’t know I fucked up. Like, last week I had to tell the S’eetns that plugging your ears when someone is talking to you is a human custom that means you find your conversation partner very intriguing, because they had really screechy voices and I couldn’t handle it and they got mad. I was so scared they wouldn’t believe me because I’m not very good at lying, but they did, but I was still nervous, and —”

Shiro is the king of all dumbasses. Like, seriously. He’s an idiot.

No shit Lance is having a hard time on these missions. God.

“Lance,” Shiro interrupts, “are you autistic?”

“Um, yeah?

“I didn’t know that, kiddo.”

Lance blinks. “Oh. I thought everyone knew.”

“Lance, if I knew, I never — not in a million years — would send you into intentionally stressful situations alone. Never.”

“Oh,” Lance says again, in a much smaller voice. “That makes a lot more sense. I didn’t think you were a jerk, I just thought I was being a screwup and you didn’t know how to tell me.”

“You are not a screwup, Lance McClain,” Shiro says firmly. “You are exceptional. I mean — look at you! You spent God knows how long doing these missions perfectly, even though it was unbelievably hard for you. That’s incredible.”

For the first time since this whole mess came to light, Lance smiles. It’s a small smile, but it’s a start.

“I guess so,” he says. His smile drops. “Does that mean I have to do this mission anyway?”

“Absolutely not, Lance, God,” Shiro says, aghast. “I’m proud of your strength, but I’m not going to make you keep suffering now that I know that you are, okay? God. I’m so sorry, Lance.”

Lance shrugs. “It’s fine. I liked the socializing part, anyway, so it wasn’t all bad. Besides, it’s not like I can never do a diplomatic mission again, or anything. I just maybe need to do it with a partner so they can tell me if I’m being a weirdo; that way I won’t be so scared that I’m going to fuck up all the time.”

“It’s not fine, Lance, and you’re not a weirdo.”

Lance makes a face. “I mean, objectively —”

“No, Lance. Listen to me. Are you listening to me?”

Lance looks at him with wide eyes, shocked by his intensity. He nods.

“You’re not a weirdo. I mean it. You’re just fine the way you are. And it’s not fine that I put you through that; I’m sorry and it won’t happen again.”

“I’m really not angry with you, Shiro. Seriously. I forgive you, or whatever. It was an accident, okay?”

Shiro’s clearly not going to get anything else out of him, so he decides to take what he can get.

“Alright, bud. Okay.” He squeezes Lance’s hands one more time, before moving to get up — Jesus Christ, that’s hell on his knees, he should have thought that one through and sat down, or something; but whatever, Lance is feeling better, so it’s worth it — and sit back down on his chair.

“Okay. Well, now that we’re on the same page, what do you think, Lance? Where should we go from here?”

As much as Shiro just wants to wrap Lance up in a million blankets and keep him away from anything that will every hurt him again, he realizes that that’s a guilty overreaction, and likely not what Lance needs. The best thing he can do for Lance, right now, is be as clear as possible so he doesn’t make mistakes like this in the future.

“Well, you were right on one part, like I mentioned,” Lance says, after thinking for a moment. “I like the social part. It’s fun. And so long as I’m not actively doing something wrong, I like the diplomacy stuff, too. But I’m always nervous because I feel like I’m going to say something wrong, or I’ll miss something and do something wrong. So that part kind of ruins the enjoyment part.”

“Okay — so what do you think will make that easier?”

“Maybe if I didn’t have to go alone?” Lance suggests. “Like, I have no problems when we do diplomacy missions as a team. I know we can’t afford to send everyone on these smaller missions, but maybe if I had a partner, it wouldn’t be so stressful?”

“That sounds great,” Shiro encourages. “We can do that. What else makes these missions hard?”

“Um, as much as I have fun, they’re kind of draining?”

Shiro hums. “I see. Is that why you always disappear into your room afterwards?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot of sound and light and stuff like that, so it’s nice to just quiet down after. And, some cultures are less direct than others, so I have a harder time trying to figure out the etiquette and what they’re trying to tell me, which is really draining. So sometimes I’m really exhausted after.”

“That makes sense. Hey, Lance —” Shiro gently bumps their shoulders together — “this is all easily doable, okay? This is not a problem in any way. We can make this happen. We want to make this happen, make this less stressful for you, okay?”

Lance takes a deep breath, shoulders slumping as he exhales. Most of the stress on his face fades, and he shoots Shiro a small, relieved smile.

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, kiddo. I mean it. I want you to come to me if you’re struggling — we’re a team. I want to help you, not find an excuse to get angry with you. We’ll fix things together, but I can only do that if you come to me. Promise you’ll do your best?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Do you still want to do that mission today? I’ll go with you; Allura can go on the supply run with Keith; she’ll be happy about that.”

Lance brightens. “Yeah! Coran was telling me about the Juyins, they sound so cool! They have laser eyes. I can’t wait to meet them!”

Lance gets up, gathering the forgotten file and tucking it under his arm. Shiro follows him as he makes his way out of the briefing room, chattering all the while about all the awesome things the Juyins can do, and how much fun he and Shiro are going to have on the planet.

It’s very endearing. Shiro is very relieved he got the chance to sort this out with Lance, even if it was a difficult conversation to have, and also very pleased with how things turned out: it makes more sense to have a pair go on diplomatic missions, anyway. This decision was one he should have made months ago.

“Oh, by the way,” Lance says, stopping in his tracks. “Why did you say Allura would be excited to go on the supply run with Keith? She hates supply runs.”

If Shiro didn’t know Lance, he’d assume it was simply an innocent, offhandedly curious question.

But he does know Lance, even better now than before. And he can see exactly what that question is really asking.

“Don’t worry, Loverboy,” he says drily. “She’s not fighting you for Keith, promise.”

“That’s not why I was asking,” Lance says hotly, lying like a liar.

Shiro raises a teasing eyebrow.

“I’m serious,” he insists, but his red face gives him away.

“Okay, okay,” Shiro says, pretending to surrender. He waits a moment for Lance’s blush to fade, then strikes:

“She’s excited because she heard Keith came out of your room this morning, and is very interested to interrogate him and find out why.”

As expected, the flush explodes back on Lance’s face, and he immediately starts sputtering.

“That’s not — it’s not what it — how did she know —”

“Maybe I should send Keith with you instead of me, huh?” Shiro teases, and Lance yells.

“No! Fuck off! It’s not — you suck!” he shouts, decking Shiro in the arm.

Shiro laughs. “Oh, buddy,” he says, slinging an arm around Lance’s shoulder. “I thought I was going to get to bother Keith today, but this is so much better. You are going to be stuck in a lion with me for several hours. I cannot wait.”

Lance scowls, but doesn’t try to shove Shiro off, which tells Shiro all he needs to know. “I changed my mind. I don’t want your help anymore, I can do this alone. Ugh.”

Shiro presses a kiss to Lance’s head, ruffling his hair.

“Not a chance, kiddo,” he says over Lance’s grumbles, “not a chance.”

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