what’s with these homies dissing my girl? by AsterikaMay | 5.1k+ (1/8) | Canon Compliant | Concussed Lance | Misunderstandings
Shortly after the Blade trials, Lance gets concussed and has massive brain fog. He thinks he’s recovering just fine, but his memory issues have caused him to forget one major fact: Keith is Galra. Now the team gives Lance weird looks when he boasts that he’s better than him and a whole lot of diplomats suddenly have something bad to say about Keith, which—back off, Keith is his rival. Things are looking up for Lance in terms of the rivalry; he’s been winning more and more, but Keith seems to be drawing away from him. And wait, does he look sad?
Well, 1,900 words worth of a fic to at least make an attempt to fix “The Feud” and all of the dumb comments made towards Lance (among another point that needed addressed) with a heavy dose of platonic Hance and platonic Klance and angsty fluff ♥ Enjoy! (season seven spoilers)
Read all of my snippet/drabble fics over on Battlefield on AO3! Feel free to drop a comment if you enjoyed ♥
xxx
“You’re not dumb.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with conviction and at the same time a plea, a wish, a desperate hope that the recipient believed them.
Lance did not react, his head remaining stationary on his upturned knees while his arms hugged about them, making a pitiful image next to the dying remains of their campfire.
“Lance--”
“I know.”
Lance’s tone was sharp and dull and bitter all at once. This close, even in the barely there glow, Hunk could make out the faintest sheen on dark lashes before Lance angled his head, pressing his face fully into his knee.
“I know,” he repeated, muffled.
Hunk didn’t believe it for a second.
He joined his best friend on the bumpy ground, settling himself into a cross-legged sit and throwing a handful of loose kindling onto the fire.
Lance had been quiet all day since their “visit” to Bob’s game show, not even cracking a smile when Hunk and Coran had together concocted a sort of s’more or offering up a complaint when Keith ordered them all to jog the perimeter of their camp for the night (which, despite knowing the training and exercise were good after being cooped up all day in the Lions, Lance normally dramatically protested before doing it anyways).
Hunk had a feeling he knew why and his stomach curdled.
Garfle Warfle Snick had been all anyone could talk about at the group dinner as Coran had demanded details of the legendary encounter and the team had been full of laughs in describing the faux-Galrans and Keith’s drawing abilities and Lance’s bi-boh-bi-ing and the shenanigans of the set.
But Lance had not been smiling. Not really. He’d bared his teeth in a false version of one, laughed at himself when Pidge ribbed him about not knowing any of their allies’ names, and had weakly chuckled when it came around that he’d been chosen to “escape” because Keith didn’t want to be stuck for him with eternity.
It took a few pointed looks and subtle shoves from Hunk and then surprisingly Keith, purple eyes narrowed in thought, for them to move on from the topic and instead they got Coran telling one of his stories about the Paladins of old that then had Krolia one-upping him with a Blade mission and the two of them went back and forth for a good varga with a seemingly entranced audience.
And they all probably would have been except for the fact that Lance… Lance was not partaking in it. He instead had his head propped up as he was now, firelight dancing across his face but his eyes not seeing it.
When Lance had excused himself to feed Kaltenecker and get her settled for the evening, Hunk had been a little surprised when he found himself the attention of a bunch of concerned and confused gazes.
He’d quietly told them his suspicions and had watched as Allura’s expression had shuttered and Pidge sucked in a harsh breath, guilt flashing across her features. Keith’s lips had thinned into a line and he’d looked to Hunk and he could see an apology on his lips.
But it wasn’t he who needed an apology for being laughed at. He more than understood how it felt to be the butt of a joke, to be laughed at, but even with his stint as “Humorous Hunk” in the Voltron Show he’d known still then (mostly) that it had been an act.
Lance did not have that.
He instead had a history of kids teasing him as he learned how to speak English, of teachers belittling him as he struggled to understand more complex math and science formulas, of instructors telling him he was only in the fighter program because of a drop out.
Lance had been told his whole life he wasn’t smart enough, not good enough. And he was. Lance was smart. He was people smart; he understood them in ways Hunk envied. He saw things about others; he read emotions and intentions. He was tactical and a great leader and reflexive and could change direction on a dime and make those quick-second decisions that Hunk knew he’d be agonizing over still a day later.
But those things didn’t matter, not to Lance. Not when he was so used to being compared to others not on his strengths but his “weaknesses” and finding himself wanting.
And now…
Now he’d had to suffer that all again, repeatedly called dumb, called “the stupid one,” and had Hunk not been so overwhelmed by all that was happening at the time of the show he’d have nipped that in the bud (or, tried to) before Lance had been repeatedly humiliated when he heard the quiet, disbelieving and now realized hurt tone of Lance asking for clarification if the host meant him.
Hunk felt like the stupid one.
He had to try and fix it, somehow.
He’d told the others as such, knowing the last thing Lance would want to do is feel cornered, even if this was a positive intervention. They’d all reluctantly agreed to let Hunk handle it, Shiro quietly telling him, “he knew best,” and had retired not long after to their sleeping arrangements, Keith noting he’d be up in five varga for a watch change.
And now here they were and Hunk’s more blunt approach -- no way for Lance to dodge it, to laugh it off, to weakly protest he didn’t know what Hunk was talking about -- had not quite gone as well as he’d hoped.
He should have known it would not be that easy.
Lance rolled his head free a moment later, smeared tear tracks down his cheek, and kept his eyes averted towards the fire.
Hunk’s heart broke.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Lance asked quietly after a pause, no judgment in the question but only a sort of tiredness that Hunk recognized. It was the tone he took when even a hug couldn’t make him feel better, when he didn’t want to burden another with whatever was troubling him.
He wanted Hunk to leave.
He was going to have to do a lot better than that.
“Nope.”
Lance finally looked his way then, a crease of confusion to his brow.
“I can’t sleep,” Hunk admitted and that had Lance sitting up although he remained curled over his knees. “Not when I know you’re upset.”
Lance turned back to the fire. “I’m not upset.”
Hunk didn’t bother that with a response.
“I’m not,” Lance insisted in the growing quiet. “I’m…” His hands tightened around his legs, knuckles turning white. “I just…” He let out a soft sigh. “I thought… I thought things were different now. Guess not, huh? I’ll always be the dumb, stupid one no matter what.”
“Lance--”
“It’s fine,” Lance cut in, hunching further over.
“It’s not,” Hunk retorted sharply. “It’s not fine, Lance,” he lowered his voice. “And you are not dumb or stupid or any of that. That was a stupid game show and a stupider host. Don’t listen to anything he said. He was wrong.”
“Keith doesn’t think so.”
Lance flinched as soon as the words were out of his mouth, clearly not meaning to say them. Hunk’s eyes narrowed and his, “What?” came out flatter than he’d ever heard himself speak.
Lance flushed. “I… forget that.”
“Like hell,” Hunk snapped, and the curse felt as foreign on his tongue as it apparently sounded to Lance as dark blue eyes shot over to him, widened in shock. “What did Keith say?”
Hunk had thought the two of them had reached an understanding. He’d have have to be blind to not see the way Keith implicitly trusted Lance to have their backs, to be his second in command. Although the two of them still exchanged insults and barbs Hunk had thought at this point it was mostly out of habit, in jest.
He’d thought the two of them had become friends but…
“You heard him too,” Lance said quietly, barely a whisper. “He picked me to get out so he wouldn’t be stuck with me.” His words began to become quicker, higher. “So the four of you would be there and you guys are all so smart and you’d figure a way out, I know it, while I would just hold everyone back because I can’t contribute anything because I am the stupid one and the host was right and I am dumb and I wouldn’t want to be stuck with me for eternity either.”
“You’re not the stupid one. I am.”
Hunk barely contained his yelp of surprise as Keith sounded above him and Lance stiffened next to him, even moreso as Keith dropped down on Lance’s other side.
“Keith,” Hunk protested weakly, eyes flicking between Lance’s bowed head and clenched jaw and Keith’s resolute stare.
“I need to say this,” Keith said. He reached out a finger, let it hover in the air for a second, and then firmly poked Lance in the shoulder, who curled away from it as though somehow expecting something worse. “Listen,” Keith commanded, voice low but strong all the same.
Lance didn’t say anything but Hunk could see that Keith did have his attention, his head turned ever so.
“I’m not good at talking about things,” Keith said. “I have… have trouble talking about my feelings. And what I said during that stupid show… that was wrong of me. And stupid. Really stupid. But I…” A flush was creeping up the back of Keith’s neck, embarrassment and awkwardness warring, but he grit his teeth and continued.
Hunk felt something uncoil inside him at the display. Keith had really grown up.
“I don’t take back my pick,” he continued. “You’re who I would want to get out of there, Lance. And it’s not because of what I said. It’s… you called me the future but you’re wrong.” Lance winced and Keith plowed on. “You are. The future. You… You bring people together, Lance. You make them care. You are the one who has the best chance to unite the universe in this fight. That is why I picked you.”
“Keith,” Lance murmured, picking his head up fully. “You…”
Hunk chuckled as Lance launched himself sideways at Keith, wrapping his arms tightly about the now ramrod form.
“Er, okay, we’re hugging now,” Keith muttered, lifting his arms up and tentatively patting Lance on his back.
“That’s not a proper hug, Keith,” Hunk advised, scooching over and wrapping his arms around both of them and squeezing so hard Lance gave a little squeak. “This is.”
Lance relaxed almost bonelessly in the embrace. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick.
“None of that,” Hunk chided. “There’s nothing to thank us for. Just do one thing for me instead, okay?”
He could feel Lance’s head tilt against his arm.
“Believe us when we tell you that you are not stupid or dumb. Believe us instead we we say you are smart and kind and one of the most amazing people that exists in this world. Got it?”
“Hunk…”
“What he said,” Keith put in, earning a wet laugh from Lance.
“Okay,” Lance agreed quietly, tones soft but sincere and the earlier melancholy gone. “Okay.”
Hunk let out a contented sigh and squeezed both Lance and Keith tighter.
Why so many VoltronAU?! I mean, okay, there’s only two main right now. It’s not REALLY a lot but damn... MY MINDS IS FULL OF THEM! This fuckin’ coffee&streetfightAU and this danceAU are making a mess of me and my life. I can’t believe I’ve already wrote nearly 15k words about them...
I’ve just been reading Brotherhood Five-The Fugitive Nine by King-of-the-Worthless on fanfiction. In it was this paragraph and my reaction was just to facepalm. LANCE IT’S MYSTIQUE YOU DUMBASS!
"Oh!" the old man exclaimed, looking up at the sign. "Oh, this is the wrong bus! How embarrassing. I guess I should be off, then. I hope I didn't already miss it." As the old man stood up, he held out his hand. Lance remained seated, but shook the old man's hand. "It was nice talking to you, son. I hope everything goes well with you."
"Same to you," Lance replied. The old man shuffled off, moving a little faster than usual to reach the right bus stop. Deciding that he'd rested enough, Lance also got up, but he noticed that the old man had left his cane. The old man had just disappeared around the corner; Lance ran to catch him and return the cane, but the old man was gone. Lance looked around, hoping to spot him again, but there was no sign of him.
At his feet, a stray cat looked up at him and meowed. The cat looked up at Lance, her yellow eyes briefly meeting his before she scampered off in search of food.
Lance shook his head. Wherever the old man was, he probably didn't need his cane all that badly.
