What Comes Next
Word count: 2,454 (Complete)
Summary: Lance doesn’t move his hand. “You wanna talk about it? Or we could start up the game and not deal with it right now. S’been a rough day, man. I wouldn’t blame you.”
Or-
The aftermath. They finally talk.
Keith slinks out of the lounge with his shoulders drooping. Matt pauses on his way out and sends him a worried glance. Keith shakes his head. Not now.
Reluctant, Matt follows Pidge and Hunk to see if they can corroborate Lotor’s intel about the rift. Shiro, Allura, and Coran are moving their tentative ally into holding cell for the time being. The fugitive prince complies with the smuggest grin Keith’s ever had the displeasure of seeing. He does not like Lotor.
But.
Keith shakes his head. He does not want to think about that now.
He’s crashing from the adrenaline of the fight, leaving him withered – an empty husk. He doesn’t feel grounded. It’s like his chest is trying to float off while his feet stay glued to the floor, stretching him too thin. At the same time his armor won’t let him breathe right - has it always been this tight?
He’s tired. A creeping dread washes over once he realizes how out of place he feels in the castle now. How stark the contrast is between his black Marmora uniform and the white walls around him.
Fuck he almost died today. Everyone almost died today. Shit he’s thinking about it now.
“-eith? Keith, buddy.”
He jerks at the hand approaching his shoulder. Lance drops it with a concerned frown. “Sorry,” he manages, relaxing a little. “Just jumpy.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Lance scuffs his foot and withdraws.
It’s awkward.
This is going to be a thing now, he realizes. Whatever was building between him and Lance before is scattered now. He doesn’t know where they stand anymore and he has no idea how to rebuild it. Nothing feels right. And suddenly Keith aches for it. He missed his team so much. He wishes he called them more often when he was away.
He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to talk cryptids with Pidge anymore or hold parts together for Hunk while he builds. He doesn’t know if it will feel the same when he spars with Allura or lets Coran drone on about something he doesn’t understand. He can’t even begin to think about Shiro; things have felt off balance with his pseudo-brother for months now. And how is he supposed to look Matt in the eye? He made a great first impression there.
With the Blade, he was useful. He knew his place and what was expected of him. He contributed in a way that was tangible and real. He didn’t have to worry about leading anyone anywhere. Nobody’s life hung between his rash fingers.
But he was so terribly alone. It didn’t hit him until now, Lance staring at him two feet away instead of through a screen. With Kolivan, Keith was always moving and working; no time to register his feelings, much less process them. But the coalition has won their fight for today. Everything is still now. He’s hit with whiplash.
Lance is talking to him again, sheepish. Keith almost hopes they are both equally uncertain about their awkward reunion.
“It’s really great to see you again, man. I mean, I missed making fun of your hair and junk. So, uh, I was gonna ask if you wanted to catch up a little, but you look like you need some alone time, so I’ll just –”
“No.” Keith winces at the break in his voice. “I… I really…I don’t want to be alone right now.” He takes a shaky breath. “I missed you guys.”
Maybe they aren’t as disconnected as he thought because something in Lance’s gaze catches. Perceptive sharpshooter that he is, he sees something is wrong. “Okay,” he says. “Meet me in my room after you get changed? We can play video games or something.”
“Okay.”
Their footsteps echo too loudly when they separate in the hall.
Keith knocks on Lance’s door later, readjusting to the feeling of his own clothes again. He’s still shaky and hollowed out, but the sight of Lance in his stupid lion slippers smooths him out for a second. Things can be normal again.
Something hovers in the air between them. For now, Keith sits on the bed stiffly. Neither of them knows what to say. Keith thinks Lance will just start up the game and let them ease into whatever companionship they can manage for tonight. Instead, he kicks off the lion slippers and scoots next to Keith, their shoulders almost touching. They don’t look at each other. Neither speaks for a long stretch.
“So, what happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think Lotor’s telling the truth?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think you’ll go back to the Blade?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
“…”
“…”
Keith’s body is trying to float away from him.
“...”
“...”
“Are you okay?”
“…No.”
Keith doesn’t move. Not even when he feels tears roll down his cheeks. If he moves, he’ll collapse, that will be the end of it. He knows he’s a crier, knows what he gets like when he caves in on himself like this. Lance shouldn’t have to deal with it. He should leave. But he can’t move.
Lance breaks him with a touch. All it takes is a gentle hand on his shoulder and then he’s sobbing. His throat winds in on itself. His eyes burn and burn. He feels his nose pressed to the juncture of a neck, his fists tightening around a broad back, his lungs heaving and hiccupping against his will. He hears nothing but his own sobbing and the sound breaks him a little more. Lance’s long fingers run through his hair. He feels them like background music.
He cries.
He cries.
He cries.
He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Long enough to get sore. Keith still doesn’t move, but he starts to breathe evenly again. His muscles unclench and he sags against Lance. He feels better, even if he can barely find the strength to bend his pinky. He’s grounded, stable again.
When he finally pulls back, he’s not surprised to see Lance’s eyes watery too. He almost wants to laugh. Instead, he wipes haphazardly at his face and sighs. They resituate themselves, facing one another cross-legged.
Lance lays a hand on his knee, thumb stroking lightly, just to remind him that he’s there.
“Thanks,” Keith whispers.
Lance doesn’t move his hand. “You wanna talk about it? Or we could start up the game and not deal with it right now. S’been a rough day, man. I wouldn’t blame you.”
He bites his lip, still fighting sniffles, shakes his head. He knows he’s going to ramble. He can’t contain it so he lets it happen, feeling safe with Lance. “I missed you. I missed everyone so, so much. And now there’s all this other stuff happening, and I-I just – this is the first time I’ve had a chance to think about it since I left and it’s kind of hitting me all at once and I’m overwhelmed and I’m scared.”
Lance lets that statement ring off the walls for a moment. He looks down at where his hand meets Keith’s knee. Keith wants to hold it, so he does, squeezing it once. He isn’t wearing his gloves. Lance squeezes back, considering him carefully.
“What are you scared of?” The way Lance asks makes it seem manageable. They can break this down into a list and check things off until they’re gone. Keith’s shoulders drop.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” His voice feels raspier than usual, vowels dragging up his esophagus.
Lance shrugs. “Do any of us really?” he tries to joke. The mirth doesn’t quite reach his eyes but Keith appreciates the attempt.
“This war is so important and I should be where I’m the most help. With Shiro back in the black lion, that means I should stay with the Marmora. I know that’s what makes sense. It’s just distributing resources; it’s not complicated… But being with the Marmora means being alone again.” His voice cracks. Lance threads their fingers together tight.
“You don’t have to go back.”
Lance’s voice is gentle and Keith wants to believe him so badly. His eyes drift to the side, measuring the wrinkles and folds of the sheets. “I can’t put what I want over the mission. I won’t. But, just standing in the castle again… You guys don’t need me here anymore and I thought that’s what was best. But I can’t help but feel like I’m throwing away the only family I’ve ever had. I can’t make that right in my head.”
Lance pulls his gaze and stares him dead in the eye. “Keith, you won’t lose us. We know you care. We know you’re trying to do what’s right. We’ll always be here for you, just like Shiro said.” Their thumbs stroke over the crevices of each other’s knuckles.
“I know.” Hearing that just isn’t enough anymore. Not when he has to hold himself together for weeks on end with only Kolivan’s brutal company at his shoulder.
The castle hums around them for a while. Keith waits for Lance to collect his thoughts. He can feel how warm and ruddy his cheeks still are from crying. He doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed. Finally, Lance takes his other hand, grip unwavering and firm. “You should take Red back.”
Keith blinks. They’re back to math. Lance looks at him like it’s already decided and that’s when Keith knows he messed up. It seems an eternity ago that Lance came to him with one pinky up, the same hardened expression etched into him when he talked about best soldiers. “No way.”
Lance shushes him, lips melting into a lopsided smirk. “Look, you’ve shared your piece. Let me do mine.”
Keith’s fingers twitch in Lance’s grasp, but the other boy only clamps down harder.
“No, Keith, I’m serious. Look at me. Hey.”
Keith does.
“You’re not okay. And that’s not okay. You belong with Red. I’m not his paladin and I never will be. I don’t have the connection with Shiro that you do. He works better with you and that makes the whole team more functional. I said it before and I’ll say it again: This isn’t a participation game. And if you’re telling me that you feel like you don’t belong here anymore, I can’t let that go on. Not when you fit way better than I do. Not when this is hurting you this badly. C’mon. We’re friends.”
Lance smiles at him, brows pinched. Keith sees the way his shoulders tighten and realizes Lance doesn’t have half the confidence he pretends to.
“I’m sorry. I messed up,” he says.
Lance sputters. “What?”
“Before,” he clarifies. “When you came to talk to me about this. I said it would just work itself out and that’s not what you needed to hear. That’s not what happened.” Keith feels his chest constrict. “Lance…you don’t think you’re valuable to the team, do you?”
Lance pulls his hands away and freezes. He looks ready to bolt or make a joke, but Keith won’t let him squirm away. He’s failed to connect with Lance, to support him in return too many times now.
Keith’s almost died too many times to take it for granted. He steels himself and nearly lunges for Lance’s hands again. He needs to connect, he needs to push past this wall between them before it’s too late. Something in his core screams for it. He doesn’t want to regret anything anymore.
Keith opens his mouth and everything pours out of him. He watches those blue eyes widen and shimmer with unshed tears again. With every truth he speaks to Lance’s bravery, kindness, skill, composure, and beyond, his hands slide up brown forearms. Keith doesn’t stop there. He hammers Lance in the head with confession after confession.
“You’re our sharpshooter.” His fingers curl around biceps.
“You ground me.” Shoulders.
“You keep everyone together.” Jawline.
“And I love you.”
He’s up on his knees leaning over Lance, brown jaw cupped in Keith’s palms. He doesn’t know how he means it yet. Romantically? Probably. It doesn’t matter. Whatever way it is, it’s true. He loves Lance and Lance needs to know that right fucking now or he’ll explode. So he says it again.
“I love you. I really do. You’re incredible. And now I know what it’s like to be separated from everyone, from you . So, whatever it is that we have together, this partnership thing, I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want you to step aside, ever. I’m sick of people walking out of my life. You have to know how much you mean to me.”
Lance starts crying, but a laugh bubbles out of him anyway. He pulls Keith to him again, shoulders shaking as their arms wind around each other.
“Jeez this is way too much for one day,” he chokes out between chuckles and soft sobs. Keith holds him tighter, pulls them down onto the pillow. Lance rubs at his eyes and stares at Keith with his hair splayed over the sheets. “Your mullet’s getting longer. Won’t be a mullet soon.”
Keith blinks.
Lance laughs again and twines their fingers. “Sorry, sorry. Bonding moment, I know. I just had to break the tension before our feelings freaking killed us. See, this is the kind of emo junk I forgot how to handle without you.”
It works, and Keith finally laughs. And once he starts he can’t stop. His eyes squint shut and he fucking giggles until he can’t breathe. Lance arm slings around him until he’s wrapped up in a Lance-burrito, grin so wide it hurts as they keep laughing together, everything stressful and bad leaking out of them.
Eventually, their breathing tapers out back to normal. They lay in comfortable silence, pressed together. Keith feels like he’s home there, burrowed in Lance’s chest.
No, they haven’t fixed anything yet. Lotor’s in a cell two levels below. Keith will have to talk about his suicide run tomorrow. Lance will have to address his role on the team. They don’t know where they’re going. But they know they’re there for each other. That’s enough to rest on.
Lance’s nose buries itself further in his hair. They breathe together. “I love you too, man,” he whispers. Keith smiles, drowsy.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah, we will. We’re like Space Ranger Partners or something cool like that.”
“Mm. Sleep now, work on stuff in the morning?”
Lance yawns. “Yeah. That’s enough angst for one day.”
Squished between their chests, their hands weave together again. They squeeze once, twice, a third time just for luck. They exhale together. Their ankles cross.
They sleep well that night. Their tears dry by morning.