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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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“—Lance isn’t even paying attention!”

Lance looks up from his phone, noticing Pidge whining to Coran for the first time.

“I’m paying attention,” he lies.

Pidge ignores him. “It’s not fair! He should forfeit his movie vote! He’s not even gonna watch, anyway.” She turns to Lance, glaring. “He’s gonna be too busy texting Keith and making ga-ga eyes at his phone.”

“I will not!” he says, rapidly trying and failing to delete the ‘wish you were here, Dropout’ text he just sent. “I don’t — I wasn’t even texting Keith! I haven’t talked to him in days!”

Not a single person is fooled. Even Coran, who can regularly be counted upon to be on Lance’s side, is raising an eyebrow.

“Honest!” Lance insists.

“Ugh,” Pidge complains, glaring at him before flopping back on the couch. “I still think your vote shouldn’t count.”

Regardless of her petulance, Lance does get a vote, thank you very much. Unfortunately it comes with an abundance of teasing and wiggling eyebrows from the rest of the team, but whatever. At least his point was made, and he doesn’t have to watch whatever nerd documentary Pidge was gunning for.

To his credit, he does actually try to pay attention to the movie. It seems mildly interesting, at least, some kind of Altean classic, and usually he’d be able to at least appreciate the costumes. He really does try.

Fifteen minutes in, his phone buzzes slightly.

Absolutely not, he tells himself. Do not Pavlov yourself to his ringtone, because that would be humiliating. You can go two hours without talking to him. You’re basically a grown-up, for fuck’s sake. You barely even like him mostly. Plus, if Hunk reads over your shoulder and sees the messages you’re sending to him you will never recover.

Nodding resolutely to himself, he shoves his phone deeper in his pocket and returns his attention to the movie. There’s some kind of conflict happening, maybe between the two romantic leads?

Whatever. Lance is paying attention. The movie is just…unclear.

The second time the phone rings, reasoning with himself is much harder. After all, Shiro isn’t even trying to pretend he’s not falling asleep into his popcorn — he’s not paying attention. And Hunk is intently braiding Allura’s hair, so he’s not paying attention either. The point of family movie night is to spend a few hours in each other’s presence outside of training or missions or meals, so it totally counts even if Lance is on his phone, right?

He has to physically sit on his hands to keep himself from checking his messages. Pidge will needle you about it for eternity, he reminds himself, increasingly desperate.

The third time it buzzes, he gives up. His hands fly to his phone so fast he cringes at himself.

How embarrassing.

Fully aware his ears are bright red, he clicks on the notification, opening his and Keith’s communication line.

mullet-head:

lance? you there?

mullet-head:

did you fall asleep during movie night

mullet-head:

are you pulling an old man shiro

Lance smiles to himself, glancing over at the snoring leader of Voltron, drooling on Coran’s shoulder. Keith never misses a chance to clown on his brother, even if Shiro can’t even see it.

loverboy:

i did not fall asleep u butthead

loverboy:

i’m not shiro

loverboy:

i’m not six i don’t need naps

Keith doesn’t respond for a second, and Lance pictures him with his head thrown back, eyes squinted shut and mouth open wide in the startled way he laughs when he unintentionally finds Lance funny. It makes something warm and simultaneously bitter churn in his belly, thinking of how many lightyears away he is from that brighter-than-the-sun laughter.

mullet-head:

stop making me laugh i’m going to get caught

mullet-head:

i’m on some boring patrol i’m not supposed to be on my phone

Lance narrows his eyes in alarm. If that dumbass is texting him instead of paying attention on a mission, he swears —

loverboy:

patrol where??

loverboy:

please don’t tell me ur dicking around on ur phone on a GALRA BASE

mullet-head:

no no no it’s some supply centre

mullet-head:

look

The texting bubble spins for a moment, loading, then a video comes through. Lance glances around the room surreptitiously, but no one is paying any attention to him. Pidge is chatting quietly with Allura, Coran is totally wrapped up in the film, Shiro’s still sleeping, and Hunk has moved to Allura’s other side to braid the hair on that half of her head. Still, he turns the volume as low as he can, angling the phone away from the others.

The video footage is shaky at first, eventually settling on Keith’s face. He looks good — well fed, healthy.

Handsome.

Embarrassed, Lance pauses the video, taking a moment to observe Keith’s face. It’s stupid and gay and sentimental, but — Lance has been looking for a reason to ask Keith to send him a picture, a video, hell, a voice message. Something to confirm, aside from texts, that he’s alive and well, something for Lance to hold on to, a glimpse of the face he’s missed so dearly (not that he’ll admit it). He’s been too embarrassed to ask, but wanting to feel like he’s in the same room as Keith again.

“I thought the Arizona desert was boring,” video Keith says, exasperated. “But at least it has cool lizards. This place has nothing but rocks, sand, and more rocks. Look.”

The video flips around, showing off Keith’s view. He slowly moves the camera to the side, presumably so Lance can see just how boring the rocks and sand and more rocks is.

Lance squints.

Hang on a second.

Is that flurexonomite?

He rewinds the video slightly, pausing it when he sees it again. He brings the phone close to his face, looking as closely as he can, and lets out a delighted little laugh when he sees it.

It is! It’s flurexonomite!

loverboy:

GET ME THAT ROCK

loverboy:

PLEASE

He screenshots the frame with the rock in it, circling it and sending it back.

loverboy:

THIS ONE

mullet-head:

are you serious

mullet-head:

i send you a video of this boring ass desert that i’m stuck in

mullet-head:

and you focus

mullet-head:

on a rock

mullet-head:

you massive nerd

Lance pouts, even though Keith can’t see it and feel properly guilty. That’s not fair. He’s not a nerd. Rocks are just cool! And he hasn’t been able to find flurexonomite, possibly the coolest of all space rocks that Coran has ever told him about, anywhere!

loverboy:

PLEASE JUST GET ME THE ROCK I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER

mullet-head:

i cannot believe what i am reading with my own two eyeballs

mullet-head:

you

mullet-head:

who calls hunk and pidge a nerd every single day for any reason

Lance can’t help his defensive scoff.

“Everything okay, buddy?” Hunk asks, beyond amused. Lance shoves his phone in his pocket, or tries to, but he’s flustered, so somehow in his panic the phone goes flying out of his hand and onto the floor, face-up, messages clearly displayed.

Lance has never moved so quickly in his life.

He scrambles to the floor faster than he can even register he’s doing it, rolling right off the couch and throwing himself at the device. Unfortunately, Pidge reaches it first, scooping it up with a cackle and tossing it to Hunk.

“Read it out loud!”

“No!” Lance screeches, lunging after the device. Hunk is quick, though, standing on top of the cushions and holding the phone far out of his reach.

“‘Wish you were here, Dropout —’” he starts, gleeful.

“Stop! Shut up! That was a typo!” He attempts to climb Hunk to no avail; the man simply holding him away with one big arm. He’s not even struggling.

Lance knows how embarrassing some of those messages are. He cannot let them see the light of day. The time has come for drastic measure.

Somehow anticipating Lance’s impending violence, Hunk tosses the phone to Allura, who catches it easily and runs to the other couch.

“‘Saw someone dressed in all black on our last diplomatic mission and thought of your emo ass,’” Allura recites.

Lance screams, collapsing to the floor. He won’t be able to wrestle his phone away from her. She could kill him with a toothpick, probably.

He is doomed.

Allura clicks a few buttons and then laughs particularly evilly, making something ice cold shoots through Lance’s veins.

She hasn’t found his notes app, has she?

He can’t risk it. If anyone finds out what he’s written on there — oh, God, there are angsty song lyrics. About Keith. He is going to die. He is going to melt into a puddle of humiliated goo. This cannot happen.

With an ear-splitting war cry, he jumps to his feet, sprinting at her at tops speeds and tackling her to the ground. Before she can react, he yanks the phone from her hand and scrambles away at the speed of light. He dashes out of the common room before anyone can stop him, speeding to his room and locking the door behind him. He walks over to his bed and flops onto it, screaming into his pillow as loudly as he can, face the colour of a red star going supernova and just as hot.

“Every part of being alive is a prison,” he laments to no one. He vows to wallow in his own self-pity for all of eternity.

His phone buzzes.

He gets up to check it so fast he honestly has to take a moment to consider if being this gay is truly worth it.

mullet-head:

video.attachment

He brightens. Two videos in one day?!

Being this gay is worth it, apparently!

“You are truly the biggest nerd I know,” video Keith tells him solemnly. His indigo eyes are bright in amusement — soft, even. He takes two steps and then bends down — Lance keeps his eyes firmly on his friend’s face, he does, he does — and picks up the brown, dusty rock.

Lance heart skips a beat when he realizes it’s the exact right rock, the first time. Keith must have looked very carefully at the photo to get the right rock, for all his teasing. The rock is as tiny as a pinky nail, and it doesn’t exactly stand out.

God, Lance loves him so fucking much.

Video Keith slips the rock into his pocket. “You’re lucky you have me, you goober.”

The familiar banter makes Lance smile wider. It took he and Keith a long time and a lot of understanding to come to the point where they are now, the familiarity, the comfort he knows Keith must feel around him to let his guard down so blatantly, to be so transparently teasing and playful.

It makes his heart hurt, a little. He wishes there wasn’t a screen and a bajillion miles between them.

———

The worst part about the Blades, Keith thinks, is that there’s absolutely zero in between. He’s either bored out of his mind, polishing his sword while patrolling some random supply station, or he’s running for his life, barely making it out of an exploding Galra warship in time to keep all his limbs. There are no middle moments, no time for him to be anything but praying for death to at least put him out of his mind-numbing misery or praying to make it out of a situation alive. No family meals, no strange space mall supply runs, no training with Altean superhumans.

He misses his family.

But he knows he can’t go back. At least not permanently. He made this decision for a reason, and that reason is more important to him than a little bit of boredom or some measly mortal peril.

(Lance is more important to him than a little bit of boredom or some measly mortal peril.)

He sighs as he stares at the bunk above him, tracing the shadows of the bed for the zillionth time. He’s not tired at all, but there’s fuck else for him to do in between now and his next mission. He’s already trained all day today, and there’s only so much he can do with a sword before he wants to put it through his own head.

He misses training with a partner.

He shifts around, looking for his phone. It’s late, and he can’t text Lance — the dumbass is in a healing pod right now because he pulled a Keith and tried to fight a nine foot tall Galran commander with his own two hands to cover for someone — but maybe he can send him a couple messages, anyway. Just for when he wakes up.

It’s not like he has anything better to do.

He leans over as far as he feasibly can in his bunk, trying to reach his uniform. He manages to hook his finger around the sleeve, pulling it closer until he can reach his pocket. He thinks he left his phone in the right one, if he can just pinch the corner —

His hand runs over something small and rough, and he stills.

He pulls out a rock, and for a minute he’s confused — he just washed this thing and he’s been on base for three days, how the hell did a rock get in there — then it hits him.

He smiles. This is Lance’s dorky rock.

He leans back onto the mattress, holding the rock out in front of him. It sparkles slightly in the low light of the barracks, it’s many minerals catching the glow of the Balmeran crystals. It looks like a tiny little jewel in his hands, like a sparkling piece of amber.

Like Lance’s eyes.

Immediately he’s embarrassed with himself for thinking it. It’s so — it’s such a fucking gooey thing to think, to compare this sparking crystal to the deep brown of his teammate’s eyes. It’s not even the right brown, anyway. This rock is on the lighter side — Lance eyes aren’t as ambery orange. In the right shadowy lighting, they’re more of a black, so endlessly dark that you could lose yourself in them, that you could be swallowed right up in the look.

Not always, though. Keith lifts the rock up a little higher, holding it right in front of one of the crystals, and squints, letting his eyesight go blurry.

Once, when they were on a planet startlingly like Earth, Keith and Lance snuck off from a gala and ran to the beach to watch the sunset. Lance has smiled so wide, then, squishing his whole face, and when the golden rays of the settling sun had hit his eyes, they melted into a honeyed amber the exact same shade of the crystal. Keith remembers his mouth going dry, his mind going completely blank. He’d been so starstruck by the sight that he hadn’t even dared to breathe.

Lance had thrown sand at him for staring, and cackled as Keith cussed him out.

Keith pulls his blanket up to his chin, smiling. He closes his eyes, rhythmically rubbing the roughened crystal.

He falls asleep faster than he ever has before.

———

The castle is buzzing with excitement.

Most of its resident are too excited even for words. Breakfast is a mess, everyone bouncing in their seats, grinning so wide they can barely eat. Pidge inhales her food so fast she chokes. Hunk sporks himself in the nose, not paying attention.

It’s visiting day.

In less than two vargas, Keith is going to land a pod in the hangar, here to stay for two full days. One of those days will be a mission, sure, but after that they’ll have several hours to just hang out with their friend for a while, catch up, remember how much they miss him. It’s exhilarating.

They all gather in the hangar when he messages to say he’s close, practically vibrating in place. None of them speak, too pumped for words. They all watch the doors with wide eyes, reading to sprint the moment they open and Keith lands safely.

Only, one of them is too impatient to wait that long.

“Keith!” Lance cries, sprinting forward when the pod is a foot from the ground. Before the pod even lands, the hatch is thrown open, and Keith comes tumbling out, half falling to the floor.

“Lance!”

They crash into each other so hard it’s a miracle they manage to stay standing, embracing so tightly it has to be painful.

“You know, I was once married,” Coran remarks. “I went on a two-decaphoebe exploratory mission in that time. When I returned, I was not embraced that tightly.”

“That’s because you didn’t have an intensely homoerotic rivalry and then a weird half-friendship half-romantic relationship you refuse to acknowledge as such that racketed up your sexual tension to levels that cannot be recorded,” Shiro explains.

Four pairs of eyes blink at him.

“Nobody is as gay as they are,” he simplifies.

“Well, gay or not, I’ve lost patience. Lance does not get to hog all the Keith time, not on my watch.” Hunk marches towards the couple (couple of besties) and lifts them both off the ground in a hug that looks to have rearranged their spinal cords. “Keith! Buddy! We missed you!”

The rest of the team rushes in soon after, hugging and holding and generally just piling Keith with all the love they’ve pent up in his absence. Keith is bright red by the end of it, but visibly pleased, obviously flattered.

“I missed y’all too,” he says. “Seriously. Blades aren’t the same.”

With a herculean amount of strength, they manage to pull away to give Keith some space, heading towards the briefing room to prepare for their mission. They have a fleet to destroy, after all, and an Empire to cripple.

And, of course, the faster they complete their mission, the more time they can spend together with no obligations looming over their heads.

They debrief quickly, making sure not to miss any important information but determined not to dilly dally. They split up to suit up, then run off to their respective hangars, ready and rearing to go. Keith lingers for a second next to Lance.

“Good luck, Sharpshooter.”

Lance grins. “I don’t need it, Samurai. I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Wrong ass to be kicking, dontcha think?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Keith, you’re with me,” Shiro reminds him, when neither fool looks to be focusing on the impending mission, gently knocking his brother’s shoulders.

Keith nods. “Yeah, coming.” He jogs away from Lance, flashing him one last smile. As he turns to corner, he pulls out the crystal from his pocket, gently pressing it to his lips before slipping it back where he got it.

“What’s that?” Shiro asks, gesturing to the pocket.

Keith looks shifty, like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Uh, just a good luck charm.”

“Since when do you believe in luck?”

Keith shrugs. “Since I started feeling lucky, I guess.”

Far behind them, stopped to tie his bootlace, Lance stares at where the brothers disappeared into the Black Lion’s hangar, wide-eyed.

He recognises that rock.

———

Several hours later, six paladins dock back on the castle, exhausted but satisfied.

“Man, I missed having a full team. That mission was way less horrible than usual,” Pidge says.

“Indeed,” Allura agrees tiredly.

“Almost like we had a good luck charm,” Lance whispers to himself, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

Shiro smiles at them all. “You did great, team. This was by far the most successful mission we’ve had in months.” He turns his smile to Keith in particular, who grins right back. “We missed you, buddy.”

“Missed you too,” Keith murmurs.

“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up tomorrow,” Coran says. “Right now we are all exhausted. Off to bed, my dears.”

They all comply without protest, stumbling out of the bridge and down the halls to their rooms. Keith and Lance walk together. It makes Lance smile, remembering when they used to walk each other to bed, everyone else long asleep, stupid tired after a late night of planning. He doesn’t miss the stress, but he does miss leading with Keith, more than he’d like to admit.

“Hey, wait,” Keith says as they approach their bedroom doors, hand on Lance bicep to stop him.

“What’s up?”

“I, uh, have something for you.” He digs around in his pockets, looking panicked for a moment when he can’t find whatever it is he’s looking for, then visibly relieved when his fist encloses around it. He holds it out to Lance, who accepts it without question. Onto Lance’s palm he drops a sparking brown crystal.

“The flurexonomite,” Lance says, grinning.

Keith rocks back on his heels. “Yeah. I’ve been keeping it safe, you nerd.”

Lance looks up at him softly, unable to summon any playful exasperation at the tease. “Thank you, Keith.”

Keith smiles softly at him. “‘Course.” He puts his hand on his lockpad, opening the sliding door. “Night, Bluebell.”

“Goodnight, Willie Nelson.”

———

The next day is as crowded and energy-filled as expected. To avoid fights over Keith-time, the paladins had made a schedule: most of the day will be spent all together, but each person gets one designated hour of one-on-one time to do as they please. Keith gets dragged from person to person, blushing every time someone grumbles about not having enough time, from sparring with Shiro, swimming with Lance, and painting his nails with Allura.

He cries four separate times. It’s nice to remember how loved he truly is.

As days tend to do, however, it eventually comes to an end. Supper is a somewhat bittersweet affair, everyone knowing that once it’s over, Keith has to head back to his pod, and they won’t see him again for weeks, even months.

They try to make the most of it.

Hunk and Lance cook up something to honour the occasion, Pidge at the kitchen door with Lance’s gun to prevent Shiro, Coran, and Keith himself from so much as looking at the food so they don’t fuck it up somehow. Allura serves her solemn duty as taste-tester, ensuring all food is fit for a royal feast.

It’s amazingly thoughtful, even though Pidge is way too trigger happy. Keith cries again halfway through supper, and half the table joins him.

By the time the team walks him to his pod, they’re all pretty cried out, and determined to put on a happy face. They all hug Keith for way too long and with way too much force, each making him swear to call and text frequently, and to not do stupid things or get himself killed. Keith promises to do one of those things.

Eventually they all, with very knowing and smug looks, wave goodbye and head out, leaving Lance and Keith alone. Both pointedly pretend that they’re not embarrassed about it.

“I have something for you,” Lance says, when Shiro finally exits.

Keith glances at his gigantic care package of collective gifts from the rest of the team, raising an amused eyebrow. “Will I have space for it? The barracks at the Blade are small as shit, you know.”

Lance huffs a laugh, nervous smile pulling at his lips. “It’s, uh, pretty small. Promise.”

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, then grabs something out of his pocket, holding his fist out to Keith. In his outstretched palm, a mirror of the night before, he drops a silver chain, attached onto a small —

A small, brown stone.

The flurexonomite.

“Good luck charm,” Lance explains quietly. He hesitates for a moment, then powers on. “And a piece of me to carry with you. If you want it.”

For a moment Keith gapes at the precious thing in his palm, the chain Lance must have made by hand sometime when Keith was hanging out with the rest of the team today. It’s simple, just the chain and the rock, but to Keith it’s more valuable than all the universe’ riches put together. To him it’s everything. To him it’s a message.

It is, without even a sliver of a doubt, a manifestation of Lance’s feelings for him. Of his feelings for Lance, too, having picked up the stone at all.

Keith decides to hell with the waiting. To hell with the war, with the consequences, with the long-distance. He grabs Lance’s face in his hands and kisses him as hard and fast as he has been wanting to for longer than he’s willing to admit.

“I fucking love you so much,” he mutters against soft, ful lips. He feels Lance’s smile.

“Yeah no shit, stupid. I gathered that when you kissed the rick I begged you to pick up for me before a mission, like it was a picture of your sweetheart in World War Two.”

Keith huffs, but can’t resist kissing him again. “Are you physically incapable of saying I love you back like a normal person, you dickhead?”

Lance laughs loudly enough to disrupt the kiss. “Yes.” A beat. “I love you too, mulletbrain. If that wasn’t abundantly clear.”

Keith smiles, kissing him one last time before pulling away. “It was.”

He lets Lance clasp the necklace around his neck, relishing in the touch of Lance’s cold fingers on his skin, committing the feeling to memory.

“I’ll miss you,” he says from the pilot seat. “I’ll call you.”

“If you don’t, I’ll fly Red to the Blades and kick your ass,” Lance informs him.

Keith feels like his heart is going to burst. “I don’t doubt it.”

When he finally takes off, castle shrinking to a dot behind him, the weight of his good luck charm around his neck makes leaving feel like less of a goodbye.

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