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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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“Woo-oof, Mullet. How has training every second of every day made you worse, somehow?”

Keith clinches his jaw, forcing himself to keep his attention on the gladiator in front of him, and ignore the taunting to his left.

He doesn’t understand what Lance’s problem is. A couple months ago, he was putting a soft hand on Keith’s shoulder and saying he trusts the Black Lion’s judgement, sticking with Keith even when he makes dumbass decisions, and now he’s back to that stupid — rivalry? Again?

What’s his fucking angle?

“I’m still doing better than you,” Keith grits out, because the high road is for losers. Unfortunately the jab doesn’t have the intended effect, and Lance only smirks.

“Not for long.”

Faster than Keith can fully process, Lance fucking back handsprings out of his gladiator’s range, widely avoiding its attack, and then he flips forward, using the momentum to hit the gladiator full force in the chest. As the gladiator stumbles, Lance wraps his legs around its shoulders and almost throws his own body to the ground, sending the gladiator’s head to the floor at frightening speeds. It cracks on impact, Lance scrambling a couple feet away, and then a low hum fills the room as a robotic voice announces: “Level 24 complete, Red Paladin. Congratulations. You are in the lead.”

Lance turns and smirks in Keith’s direction. He doesn’t even say anything, but the smugness drips off him in waves.

There’s absolutely nothing Keith can do to stop himself from what he does next. His fuse is short, he knows that, and Lance has fucking burnt it to a crisp. He feels something implode in his stomach, and he sees red.

He lunges for the gladiator, using his training staff to vault off the mat and throw himself right at the gladiator’s chest, just like Lance did. He twists his body, trying to wrap his legs around his shoulders and bend his back to get the right momentum.

There’s no noise, no crack or snap, but Keith feels something give in his lower back, and he drops to the ground , trying and failing to bite back a pained shout. The gladiator, obviously undeterred, raises its staff above Keith’s head, whipping it down so quickly it whistles. Keith throws himself out of the way, which hurts so badly his vision actually whites out a little.

“End training sequence! End it! Stop!” shouts a panicked voice. The robot voice confirms the instruction, and Keith hears the whooshing sound of the gladiator dematerialising, then footsteps hurrying towards him.

“Holy shit, Keith, are you okay?” Lance leans over him, brown eyes wide in concern, hand resting gently on his arm.

Keith scowls. He pulls his arm away and pulls himself up and out of Lance’s reach.

Well, he tries to. The second he tries to sit up the same agonizing pain from before radiates from his back, and barely manages to muffle his groan.

“Jesus, Keith, don’t move —”

“I’m fine,” Keith interrupts gruffly. He grits his teeth and drags himself upright, ignoring the way the pain makes his ears ring. “Leave me alone.”

Keith’s movement makes Lance’s hand shoot out on reflex, but he stops himself right before he makes contact. He meets Keith’s gaze, glaring heavily.

“Don’t be a dumbass. Let me help you.”

Keith bites back the urge to tell him what he thinks of his help, because he knows that’s a step too far, even though he really wants to take it. Some part of him, something mean and angry that he can barely keep a hold on, wants to hurt Lance’s feelings as much as Lance’s weird mixed signals have been hurting him, lately. Worse.

Keith has more control than that. He will have more control than that.

“I’m fine,” he insists again. “Training’s over. You won. Go brag to Hunk, or something.”

Lance does nothing for a moment, then he sighs, getting to his feet and walking away.

Keith’s heart sinks, even though he doesn’t want Lance’s help and he’s perfectly capable of handling himself. It’s good that Lance is leaving him alone. Keith doesn’t fuckin’ need him. He’s handled himself since he was twelve goddamn years old, thanks ever so, and that’s not going to change now.

Only Lance doesn’t walk out the training room door. Instead he walks over to where he’s discarded his jacket, digging through the pockets for a moment before pulling out something long and thin, rounded on the edges and an off-white colour. He shoots it at Keith, and before he can speak up to ask Lance what the hell he’s doing, a blue laser shoots from the white thing.

A scanner.

Lance runs it over Keith’s back and torso, then mutters something angrily to himself, too quiet for Keith to hear, and tucks the scanner on his jeans pocket, walking back over to Keith.

“You threw out your back, stupid,” he informs him. “That shit’s not going away. Let’s go. Can you stand?”

Keith wants to argue, but finds that he’s…exhausted. All the pain hits him at once and he barely stops himself from sagging forward so as to not hurt his back any further.

“Probably.”

Lance helps him anyway, putting one of Keith’s arms around his broad shoulders before slowly helping him stand.

It hurts like hell, and Keith lets him know it.

“Mother of fucking God that smarts like a cactus spike up the shitter fucking hell —”

“I am trying so hard,” Lance starts, voice shaking, “to be serious and helpful, dude, but I am going to lose my mind if you keep going. Please cuss like a normal person and not a cowboy that just got kicked in the nuts by a horse.”

“Hurts about the fuckin’ same,” Keith shoots back, but tries to reign it in anyway.

Lance helps him out of the training room, guiding him down the hallways until they finally make it to their rooms.

“Few more steps,” Lance says encouragingly. Any teasing attitude evaporated somewhere between when Keith hit the floor and when Lance helped him up. “You can do it, Samurai.”

They finally make it to Keith’s door, and he slaps his free hand to the lockpad and stumbles to his bed.

“Lie on your stomach,” Lance advises.

Keith furrows his brow. “Isn’t lying on your stomach bad? Aren’t you supposed to lie on your back when you hurt it?”

“Well, it’ll be pretty hard for me to massage the pain out of your muscles of you’re lying on them, dork-brain.”

Keith pauses. “Huh.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Will you just shut up and do as I say, Commander?”

“Um, no,” Keith says. For whatever reasons his heartbeat has increased, and his palms are sweaty through his gloves. “I’m just going to sleep it off. You can go now.”

Lance crosses his arm. That stubborn look enters his face, the same one he gets when he knows he’s right and he doesn’t care who agrees.

Keith has never, not even one time, won an argument with him when he gets that expression.

“Bed. Now,” he orders. “Ditch the shirt. I’ll be back in five minutes, and if you’re not doing as I say I’m going to knock you out and shove you in a healing pod.” Without waiting for a response, he turns around, marching out the door and somehow making it slam behind him, even though the doors are literally automatic and Keith has never once seen them slam before.

Keith glances at his bed. He glances at his lockpad.

It’s not like Lance can strongarm his way through Altean lock security, right?

Keith takes one step towards the door. His back twinges, and he winces.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

He chucks off his shirt, wincing as the movement makes his back twist, and gingerly lays down on his stomach. He shifts until he finds a position that hurts the least, pillow tucked under his head and over his arms.

Whatever. He’s doing this because he doesn’t want to sit in a stupid pod, not because Lance ordered him to.

As promised, his door opens again five minutes later, and Lance’s near-silent footsteps approach the bed.

“See?” he mutters. “Doesn’t kill you to listen to me.”

“I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

There’s a shuffling sound, then a creaking as the bed dips, and the next thing Keith knows, Lance has a leg on either side of Keith’s hips and he sits gently on Keith’s thighs, right beneath his ass.

Keith’s face flames. He shoves his face into his pillow and prays for death.

(No one has ever been this close to him in his life, probably. It’s weird.)

“My hands a freezing,” Lance says apologetically. “Might feel weird for a sec.”

Cold fingers trace gently down the curve of Keith’s spine, covered in what Keith assumes is some kind of medicinal lotion. He shivers, goosebumps erupting all over his bare flesh. The air suddenly feels suffocating.

“Where’s the pain?” Lance whispers.

Keith swallows. His throat is so dry that it takes him several attempts. “Lower back.”

The cool fingers slowly move to the backs of his hips, one on each side. Then, without warning, they dig into his flesh.

“Fucking — ow, Lance!”

“Baby.”

Keith glances back at him incredulously, face still burning. “In what world is now a good time for pet names?!”

Lance snorts, a small smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “I’m not calling you a pet name. I’m insulting you. Baby.”

Keith’s jaw drops. “You —”

“Shut up and let me focus, Mullet.”

Keith does.

But not because Lance tells him to.

Eventually he gets used to the hard kneading of Lance’s bony fingers. Every once in a while he winces as Lance digs into a particularly painful spot, and once he outright shouts in pain. Lance hurries out an apology, easing up a bit and moving to a different part.

“I suppose I should apologise,” he says after several minutes of silence, interrupting only by Keith’s various grunts of pain and relief alike.

“For being a dickhead?”

Lance laughs. Keith isn’t facing him, but he can picture his wry smile. “For goading you. I knew you were going to fuck up the takedown I did when you tried it, but I just thought you’d fall or something.” His voice gets solemn. “I didn’t think you’d get hurt for real. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.”

His hands have stilled, thumbs no longer pressing into the knotted muscles. Only his fingertips gently trace his skin.

His fingers aren’t cold anymore, but Keith still feels goosebumps come up again.

“I could’ve done that takedown thing,” he grumbles eventually. He’s full of shit and he knows it, but he’s sure as shit not about to admit that Lance is better at a hand-to-hand manoeuvre than he is.

Lance snorts. “Yeah, right. I’ve been in gymnastics and dance classes since I was two, bonehead. I’m bendy as hell. I’m good at contorting. I do it all the time when Hunk and Pidge haven’t slept in a while, and I need to make them think they’re hallucinating monsters from sleep deprivation. You have to be practiced at this sort of thing, Mullet.”

Keith opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “What have you been doing to Hunk and Pidge?”

Lance ignores him. “Anyways. I won’t goad you into something like that again, no matter how funny it would be to see you fall on your face.” He pats Keith’s hip twice, then shifts off the bed. “All done. Try sitting up. Does it still hurt?”

Carefully, Keith pulls himself into a sitting position, expecting the same white-hot pain he felt when he sat up in the training room. But there’s nothing.

He looks to Lance with wide eyes. “Holy shit.”

Lance preens. “I’ve got magic hands,” he brags.

“Thank you,” Keith says sincerely. He can’t quite help the small smile he shoots in Lance direction.

Strangely, a light blush burns across Lance’s cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mullet. It’s not like you and your thick head were going to go into a pod, so.” Lance coughs, rocking back on his heels. He looks anywhere but Keith.

Suddenly, a vague memory pops up into Keith’s brain, of himself at around thirteen, venting to an amused Shiro about how one of the boys in his classes, Taylor, kept bugging him about test scores and insisting on some stupid competition.

“I don’t get it, Shiro!” he had said, frustrated frown pulling the corners of his mouth down. “I don’t want to compete! I don’t know what his stupid problem is!”

Shiro had smiled, ruffling Keith’s hair. “He’s pulling your pigtails, kiddo.”

Keith frowned. “I don’t have pigtails.”

“No, I mean —” Shiro had shook his head. “Nevermind. Just ignore him, he’s just getting a reaction out of you because he doesn’t know how else to talk to you.”

Adam had snorted before Keith could comment, reaching over and tugging on Shiro’s forelock without looking up from his marking. “Familiar with the pigtail-pulling strategy, aren’t you, babe?”

Keith hadn’t understood it then, why Shiro’s face had gone bright red or why Adam had laughed louder as Shiro got more flustered. He just remembers being disgusted by their blatant gross flirting, and forgetting about the confusing words entirely.

It hits him now, though, looking at Lance’s red face, thinking about every time he’s driven Keith insane and smirked when he finally lost it, gone against Keith’s orders just to be contrary, literally tugged on Keith’s hair just to piss him off, but why he always sits next to Keith at meals and reassures Keith when he’s sure he’s not fit to lead the team.

Why he offered to rub his hands up and down Keith’s back for a half hour instead of sticking him in a pod.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, more to himself than anything. He looks at Lance with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Lance glances back at him, and his expression only makes the Cuban more red, somehow.

“I promised I’d help Coran with something,” he blurts. He points vaguely at the door, stumbling backwards. “Right now, actually. Um, bye. Don’t hurt yourself again, dumbass.”

He’s out the door before Keith can stop him, so fast there’s practically a cloud of dust where he used to be, like a cartoon.

Keith sits down heavily on his bed, still staring unblinkingly in front of him. He thinks of the way he rises to Lance’s challenges, every single time. How he always pushes himself harder when Lance is watching, like he has to make sure Lance knows how good he is. How he, too, always seeks Lance out and sits next to him during team meetings or even movie nights. How he almost always assigns them as partners on missions.

How he shivered when Lance’s cool fingers touched his skin.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, a smile fighting its way onto his face. He yanks gently on his own hair.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach.

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the-kittens-of-vol-tron · 1 year

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I feel like Keith would say something dumb like "anyone born in 2000 is 26 years old right now" as if it wasn't 2022

#maybe he wouldnt #i...totally didnt say that #forgetting that i was born in 2000 and im 22 #keith #dumbass keith #keith vld #keith voltron #keith voltron legendary defender #keith kogane

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nikogane · 7 days

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draw this as klance

you were always playing roblox

#i feel like lance is a roblox kid and keith is a minecraft kid #lance definitely plays roblox w his siblings #and keith would fuckin. destroy every world he made with fucked up commands #klance #dumbass post

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deckoftrickcards · 16 days

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wait i need y’all’s opinions on which voltron characters would be which scott pilgrim characters?? help a girl out and leave a like and comment down below ❤️❤️

#voltron #keith kogane #klance #lance mcclain #vld #voltron legendary defender #klance fanart #vld fanart #keith you big emo #dumbass akaline trio shirt #i just draw him in my clothes #smh #GUYS HELP ME OUT

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bluemantics · 9 months

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A sharp clang sounded in the lions’ bay as Keith’s helmet hit the floor. The blue lion stood unmoving before him, her eyes dull.

Keith burned.

“Open up,” he ordered. Unlike that first time, when he’d tried to reach her in that lonely desert cave, Blue lowered her head and opened her metallic maw. Keith stepped forward into the cockpit, expression unwavering.

Over and over, that flash of light striking Blue repeated in his mind, like some sick personal horror show. Over and over, step by step. Finally, he reached the front, where a chair faced glowing blue controls.

“…hey,” a voice weakly greeted. Keith felt something in him snap.

“Hey?” he demanded, storming around the chair to face Lance. “Is that really how you choose to greet me after you almost fucking died, Lance?” Something in his heart tugged at the sight in front of him. Lance looked disheveled and exhausted, his eyes duller than normal.

“I did what I had to do for the team,” Lance replied quietly.

The blue lion, streaking in front of the cannon, protecting the castle ship. Lance’s “here we go,” followed by Hunk’s desperate cry. Then, silence.

“For the team,” Keith repeated lowly. Lance nodded.

“Fuck that. What about me?“ Keith demanded, one leg kneeling down in front of Lance’s chair to look him in the eye. “That— that was insane. Do you know what that shit would have done to me?”

Lance’s eye twitched. “Enlighten me, Kogane.”

“Fucking— I don’t know what I would have done.” Keith surprised himself with the raw honesty in his own voice, cheeks burning. “But it wouldn’t have been helping the team.”

“Elaborate,” Lance snapped, eyes zeroing on Keith’s.

“Lance, I don’t think I can do this whole save-the-universe gig if you die, because then I’d be the one destroying it.”

Silence hung between them. Keith, still knelt on one knee just below Lance, who’s lips were now parted in surprise.

“I’ll just—“

Before Keith could continue, Lance grabbed his face and leaned down to kiss him. Keith froze in surprise, but quickly joined his rhythm, eyes closing.

It was slow, deep, something different.

When they finally parted for air, Lance gasped, “Looks like you’ll be needing to stay alive too, then.”

Keith just huffed out a breath and pulled him down for another kiss.

#i love lines like “i would be the one destroying it”#langst #as a treat #klance #dumbasses who don’t know how to use their words #keith kogane #klance fanfiction #klance fic #voltron #lance mcclain #lance voltron #vld #fanfiction #voltron fanfic #bluemanfics

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stratos-ane · 9 months

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eating mints and listening to noah kahan and drawing klance and having a great time

#klance #vld #dumbasses #voltron #keith kogane #lance mcclain

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leenfiend · 10 months

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Ok new short fic concept that im putting here so i dont forget: lance finds out keith is gay and is like wtf kind of guy is even ur type and keith describes someone who is literally lance and the whole team stares at him and is like “so….lance.” And keith is like “no? That’s nothing like lance?” And everyone nods and hmms and then we go through the journey of keith realizing oh my god. That is lance.

#he gets angrier and angrier with every revelation #maybe it would be the team pointing it out to him every time something happened actually #like keith says he likes goofy guys and the next time lance is being a dumbass everyone looks at him and points #klance #vld #Colleen thoughts #kronk voice oh yeah its all coming together

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rayryebread · 12 days

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keith…

#i love him so much #keith kogane #voltron #vld fanart #vld #i am so ill about these dumbasses #school be damned i need keith kogane rn #artists on tumblr #:3

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malk-me · 2 years

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Lance: hey mullet, can I take you to my therapist next week?

Keith: ... why?

Lance: she thinks I'm making you up–

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awhoreintheory · 1 year

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Protection

A battle won by the skin of their teeth signified the end of yet another day.

Keith had pulled a dumb and risky maneuver and almost gotten himself killed. Lance had been pissed— they were supposed to be past this phase! They couldn’t be running about like chickens with their heads cut off. They were leaders now who needed to think things through. That was, of course, until he looked at the reasons as to why Keith had done it. He did it (“it” being throwing himself in front of an ion cannon blast that Black barely managed to shield him from,) to save Lance.

Which might’ve been irritating a couple months ago— mistaking the genuine intentions behind it as showing off and patronizing. But Keith did it because he cared. He cared so much he’d risk his life.

And Lance could sit there and try to nag Keith that he shouldn’t risk his life, that there’s always a better option, a plan B, but he’d never listen to that. Lance knows because he wouldn’t listen to that either. Has never listened to that.

He knocked on Keith’s door.

“Come in.”

Lance smiled gently. “Hey hot-shot, feeling better?” He placed the tray of tonight's dinner on Keith’s nightstand.

Keith eyed him, wary. “..Yeah, for the most part. Still got a raging headache, though.”

Lance hummed. “Getting shot by an ion cannon will do that.” He took a seat next to Keith on the bed. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Look, if you’re here to nag me, I seriously am not in the mood for it, Lance—”

“I’m not here to nag you.” Lance shifted, frowned, and shifted again, thinking.

“I want to hear why, though.” He wanted— no, needed to hear it from Keith.

Keith blinked, clearly surprised. “Well, because…” Keith frowned, eyebrows furrowing. He tilted his head, a quirk he does whenever he’s thinking. He turned to Lance, his beautiful amethyst eyes seeming to glitter.

“I’d do anything to protect you— all of you. Even though it seems like I’m being reckless and not thinking things through, I am thinking. I’m thinking about a world without you all. And I just…”

Keith’s response was so surprisingly earnest Lance forgot to breathe for a moment. He reached out, his pale and calloused fingers toying with Lance’s. Keith averted his eyes awkwardly, but refused to stop the contact.

Lance found his breath after a baited silence, heaving out a sigh. His other hand— the one that Keith hadn’t already stolen— reached up, cradling Keith’s cheek.

“I know. But I really want you to protect yourself too, ya’know?” Lance brushed his damp hair away. “I never want to end up in a world without you, either.”

Keith’s eyes filtered between Lance’s lips before seemingly having to drag himself back up to meet Lance’s eyes.

“I…”

“I hope you sleep good, Samurai.” Lance pulled away, feeling a twinge of guilt as Keith averted his eyes awkwardly. That wasn’t his intention. Oops.

Leaning down, Lance pressed a soft kiss to Keith’s forehead. “See you in the morning?”

Keith was too stunned to speak, only nodding dumbly.

Lance left the room smoothly, even shooting a finger gun and wink combo as the door slid open.

- Bonus

Lance crouched down once he left the room, blushing so hard it put Red to shame. Was Keith going to..? Had he wanted to… kiss Lance? He must’ve He did the thing! And he was being so open and earnest…

Lance groaned, retreating to his room to hopefully cold shower away his embarrassing thoughts.

#i am capable of writing fluff #yep im THAT cool #angst dominates my mind but #lance mcclain #lance voltron #keith kogane #keith voltron #keith x lance #klance #pinning dumbasses #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld fandom #vld #short n sweet #:p

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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“Hey, Lance.” A taunting laugh, smirk audible in his voice. “I got your lion back.”

He’s so smug he’s dripping with it, truly. If satisfaction was a person he would be the one and only Keith Gyeong, prodigy pilot extraordinaire.

He did, however, go out of his way to get Lance’s lion back for him. So.

“Thank you, Keith,” Lance says, injecting as much sincerity into his voice as he can muster. He’s well aware he’s still at a disadvantage here, and he knows Keith is his best shot for help (he would literally rather die than ask Shiro, Pidge would take twelve thousand photos and hoard them over his head for eternity, Hunk has a told-you-so problem, and he doesn’t know the Alteans well enough to take that particular L in front of them). “Now can you come and unchain me?”

Lance is expecting teasing. Duh. That’s the point of this whole rivalry spiel. He is not, however, expecting to be abandoned.

“What’s that? Uh, you’re cutting out, I can’t — I can’t hear you —”

Oh, Lance is going to kill him.

“Come on! I thought we bonded!”

Nothing. Not even static over the comms, which tells Lance that Keith has yet to fucking cut the connection, and is, in fact, being a horrible smug jerk.

A horrible smug jerk that is Lance’s only saving grace, unfortunately.

Man, fuck. Why is Lance expected to be friends with this jerk again?

“Keith?”

Still nothing.

“Buddy?”

Fuck, not even a muffled snigger.

“…My man?”

Is it desperate? Yes. Was the bonding dig also desperate? Yep. Is Lance digging himself into a deeper hole by the minute? Quite probably.

He does that regularly, though. He’ll get out eventually.

Hopefully.

Lance continues to nag a silent Keith through the comms, and then switches to cussing him out, in as many languages as he can (which is a lot. He doubts Keith has ever been called a fart-snorting garbage-guzzler in Gaelic, heh. Ass). He’s hoping to incense Keith enough to get him to fire back and prove that he’s been listening all along, but not too much that he turns around and refuses to help. It’s a delicate balance. Lance is usually very good at it. (Nothing on Earth is funnier than making your older siblings absolutely raging mad and then watching them continue to help you with whatever you ask for. It is, truly, an art form.)

But since Lance was forsaken by the gods the very second he was shot into space, Keith remains absolutely soundless.

And honestly? How dare he.

Muttering to himself, Lance tries to shift into a slightly more comfortable position. Eventually he manages to get his knees under him, chest to the floor, and curves his back to take the pressure off his wrists, which isn’t amazing but is better than before. It’s certainly not easy to do — this handcuff shit is hard. Lance always thought it would be way more fun.

“Well, damn, Sanchez. You sure you even want me to help you? You’re lookin’ pretty comfortable all stretched out.”

Lance yelps loudly, startling at Keith’s drawl. When the hell did he get here? Why didn’t Lance see him arrive in Red?

“Did you seriously use Pidge’s cloaking just to sneak up on me?” he demands.

Keith steps into Lance’s field of vision, smirking up a goddamn storm. He crouches right beside the pole Lance is chained to, reaching out a hand (dodging Lance’s attempt to bite his fingers off) and tilting up his chin.

“‘Course,” he admits, easy as pie. Then his smirk gets wider. “Think I was gonna pass up a chance to see ya all tied up and testy, pretty boy?”

Pretty boy.

Oh, no. Oh no, no, no.

“Fuck,” Lance says, aghast. “Fuck, fuck!”

The sudden expletives startles Keith, a little, and the smug expression drops from his face.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Lance face contorts in panic. “You’re hot! You’re not supposed to be hot! Fuck!”

This is Lance’s own goddamn fault, really, but he would like to take a brief moment to blame both higher powers and the internet at large for making him this way.

The thing is that Lance likes to bug people. He likes to push people’s buttons and run off before they can push his back. Usually, anyway, people don’t want to push his back; they just want to throw shit at him or roll their eyes and walk away.

But Keith?

Of course not. Heaven forbid Keith act like every other human being on the planet — er, well, alien in the universe. No, Keith has absolutely no trouble snapping right back to whatever Lance throws at him. Keith actually plays his game.

And fuck, does Lance love it.

That’s a huge problem. Massive. Lance doesn’t know what to do with someone who indulges him! That’s not the point! The point is for people to get annoyed and for Lance to win by default! He’s not supposed to be the one getting flustered!

“…What,” Keith says flatly. He blinks rapidly at Lance, confusion written all over his face.

There’s a splash of red spreading across his nose.

“Oh, fuck you!” Lance explodes — or, well, as much as he can while he’s still chained to a fucking pole. “Of course you have to be a fuckin’ — smug jackass! And of course you look good doing it! And of fucking course you’re a goddamn country boy!”

And the hole Lance has dug himself gets deeper.

Lance astounds himself, really. He should arrange to have his mouth glued shut.

“This is the worst! It’s one thing if you’re just some guy, but nooooo! Of course you have fucking — crooked incisors and a Southern drawl! Oh, you are the worst, you know that, Gyeong?”

“This is going in a rapidly different direction than I pictured,” Keith manages.

“Oh, picture me tied up and at your mercy a lot, do you?” Lance snaps back.

It’s a reflex, really. Lance says shit like that all the time, because he’s his own target audience. It never does anything but make people roll their eyes at him, and occasionally land him in detention. Hell, he barely even registered that he said it.

But, fascinatingly, the tiny smudge of red over Keith’s nose explodes into a raging blush, from the roots of his hair down his neck.

“There’s no possible way you know that,” Keith says hotly.

Lance’s jaw drops. “No way that I — I didn’t! I wasn’t — bitch, I was joking!”

Keith scowls, flush getting deeper. “Well, what about the shit you said before? You said I’m hot!”

“Yeah, because you fucking are! I’m not — I don’t daydream about you, at least! I don’t have a — a fucking thing for you, though?”

As he says it, Lance knows he’s lying. All of a sudden every single one of Hunk’s raised eyebrows whenever Lance ranted about Keith start to make a lot of sense.

“Bullshit!” Keith argues. “You always stare at me during training, and you pick random fights with me all the time, and yet you sit next to me all the time for no reason! You’re fuckin’ obsessed with me!”

“I —” Lance stops, jaw clicking shut. It is occurring to him, just now, that straight, non-crush-having people don’t generally obsess over one-sided rivalries for five years, and then do everything they can to make that rivalry a reality.

So. An oversight, perhaps.

“There’s a possibility,” Lance concedes, “that my subconscious, without my permission, has perhaps harboured some strange type of feelings for you.”

“Told you,” Keith says faintly. He looks just as lost as Lance does, though, so it significantly lowers the effect.

Lance is gagged. He is, for once in his life, at a complete loss for what to say. What does this even — who comes up with this kind of shit? Who does this? Lance is his own worst enemy, truly. Sorry, Zarkon, but take a seat.

“Lance, dude?” Hunk’s voice, faint and tinny from Lance’s discarded helmet, makes them both jump. “Do you still need rescuing?”

“Fuck, sorry,” Keith mutters, finally springing into action and deactivating the stupid cuffs. Lance scrambles back the second he’s free, rubbing his wrists and avoiding eye contact with Keith while also constantly sneaking glances aren’t him that aren’t at all sneaky because Keith catches him every time.

“So,” Keith says eventually.

Nope. Lance isn’t having this stupid conversation.

Lance throws a random rock at him.

“Hey!” Keith picks it back up and whips it at Lance immediately, only his aim isn’t as good as Lance’s, and also Lance is already diving to grab more rocks, so he misses. Lance starts pelting Keith with the armful of space rocks he’s gathered, each of them no bigger than an ice cube, all of them pinging harmlessly off Keith’s armour.

“Lance — will you — fucking cut that out!”

He lunges forward, shoving Lance to the ground and pinning Lance’s hands above his head. Lance bucks and squirms, trying several of the new maneuvers Shiro taught them to throw Keith off, but unfortunately Keith had also been present at the training in which they learned these manoeuvres and is therefore unaffected.

“I’ll let you up if you stop throwing shit at me.”

“No.”

“Guess you’re stuck, then.”

Lance tries for several more minutes to escape, but Keith remains firmly where he is, pinning Lance down. Lance is eventually forced to stop unless a new problem wants to pop its way up and make things more embarrassing and horrible.

Lance huffs. “Let me up. I promise not to throw more rocks at you.”

Keith squints suspiciously at him. “Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.”

“Well then — no, obviously?”

“C’mon, Keith.”

Lance does what he always does when he’s backed into a corner — he pulls out the brown doe eyes. He furrows his eyebrows, widening his eyes as big as he can and pouting.

“For fuck’s — oh, fine.”

Keith rolls off Lance, grumbling the whole time.

Lance blinks.

That — that worked? All he had to do was ask, barely, bat his eyelashes a little, and Keith just — listened to him?

“Oh my God, we are down bad for each other,” Lance breathes.

Keith looks ready to argue, but then stops himself, sighing.

“Yeah.”

“What are we going to — fuck, what are we going to do?”

Because Lance is not new to crushes. He’s had more of them than he can physically count. But never in his life has he wanted to judo flip someone as badly as he wanted to make out with them. That’s a new development.

“I dunno,” Keith says helplessly. He’s kind of — curled in on himself, face still red, as if he curls into a tight enough ball he can escape the situation. “You’re the plan guy! When you’re not being a dumbass, that is.”

Ignoring the jab, Lance takes a moment to ponder that. He is kind of the plan guy, isn’t he? It’s him who came up with all the Garrison escape plans he dragged Hunk into. It’s him who came up with the elevator shaft idea. Hell, he can quite possibly trace every one of his major life moments to a point where he said ‘hey, I wonder how I can make this work for me.’

Plan guy. Plan guy. He can be the plan guy. That’s all anything is, right? Making decisions and working out how to get there. He’s good at that.

But what decision does he want with Keith? What does he want with Keith, period?

“Step one,” Lance decides, “is that we should make out.”

Keith looks at him in surprise. “That’s step one?”

Lance nods firmly. “Yep. If we make out now, we can figure out all the weird tension shit. Maybe we don’t actually like each other. Maybe we’re just, like, bored.”

Keith looks doubtful, but he makes his way closer anyway.

“I guess so.”

“Yep.”

“So I just — kiss you?”

“Well, we don’t have all day, Mullet.”

Truly, Lance’s heart is pounding. He has no fucking clue how he’s managing to sound even remotely normal. He feels like he might implode.

Hesitantly, Keith reaches for Lance’s face, resting a palm on his cheek. His hand is warm, even through the gloves of their suits. Hot, really; nearly burning. He rests it there for a moment, absentmindedly — or maybe intentionally — rubbing his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone as his eyes trace nervously over Lance’s lips. He leans in close slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world, eyes fluttering shut as his lips get closer and closer to Lance’s. He gets close enough that Lance can see the startling length of his eyelashes, the tiny mole at the corner of his mouth, the chapped skin of his lips.

Lance doesn’t even know how to categorize the sound that comes out of his mouth when their lips finally touch. It’s — breathy; stuttering. Like all the air escapes out of his lungs the second his skin touches Keith’s.

Keith tilts his head a little, sliding their noses together, his free hand coming to rest at Lance’s hip. Lance’s hands move without his permission, sliding up the chest plate of Keith’s armour and over his shoulders, resting finally in his hair, fingers tangling around the thick black strands. He pulls on them slightly, and Keith gets the hint, opening his mouth and pushing closer.

Lance’s heartbeat slows from its jackrabbit pace. He stops focusing on anything except the warmth of Keith’s skin on his, the rhythm of their mouths moving together, the occasional sighs Keith makes at the back of his throat. He forgets where he is, what he’s doing; hell, he forgets his own damn name. The only thing he cares about is pressing closer to Keith, keeping them melded together.

“Well. Obviously you didn’t need saving.”

Lance’s eyes fly open and he shoves Keith backwards with a yelp.

“Hunk! What — where the fuck did you come from?!”

“Yellow is not a quiet machine,” Hunk says drily. “Like, seriously. The fact that you are just now reacting to my presence speaks wonders. I know you’ve liked Keith for a while now, dude, but there’s no way he’s that good of a kisser.”

“Oh my God,” Keith says faintly, and Lance can’t help but agree.

Goddamn. First he’s kissing Keith, now he’s agreeing with him. What’s next? They gonna co-lead Voltron together, or something?

“Let’s just go,” Lance squeaks, scrambling to his feet and desperately avoiding eye contact. He follows a very amused-looking Hunk back to his lion, enduring his painful amount of teasing with a bright red face and a truly herculean amount of self-control, if he’s being honest. The teasing from the rest of the team is almost worse, their ‘Loverboy Lance’ jokes briefly making him panic that everyone knows about the fact that he and fucking Keith Gyeong just made out, somehow, before he remembers that oh yeah, dumbass, you were just tied to a pole for flirting with the a scam artist.

Yeesh. How time fuckin’ flies.

The only consolation to the staggering amount of humiliation is that Keith keeps glancing at Lance, going red, and looking away. So obviously Lance isn’t the only one so affected, which is a relief.

Once everyone has finally gotten their fill of making fun of Lance, Shiro dismisses them, and Lance makes a beeline to his room. He rushes through his skincare routine as quickly as he can, refusing to let himself think about a single thing the entire time.

It doesn’t work. Every single time he catches sight of his own reflection, he’s reminded that his face just spent inordinate amounts of time pressed against Keith’s not even an hour ago. Keith is all he can think about.

Plan. Plan. What’s the plan? Is there a plan?

It is not a surprise when he hears a knock at his door.

“So,” Keith says when Lance opens it, rocking back in his heels. “What’s — uh, what’s step two?”

Lance smiles, allowing himself to feel the giddiness that’s bubbling up his throat, the parts of him that are yelling ‘Keith! Keith Gyeong! He sought me out! He wants to go further! With me!’

“Let’s figure that out together,” Lance says, pulling Keith into the room and shutting the door. “I’m thinking this is going to be more of a two-man operation.”

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