#every time i go to type paladin i say palading

[etchedstars]

the paladin & the cleric

made for day 1 of @bylerweek2023 !!

[saintkeith]

okay what about some pining!klance and everyone (including each other) knows how they feel but they just don't know what to do

your birthday is tomorrow (or in a few hours) so I thought I would go ahead and write this one for you. I’ve never written anything klance so this was super fun to work with !! Happy Birthday !!!

Hunk knew Lance would never admit it, but the playboy was head over heels for Keith. At first Lance would make subtle comments like, “If Keith were here” and “I miss making fun of Keith” which he would also never admit to the fact that it was playful teasing. Hunk knew when his friend genuinely hated someone, and when he was just being playful.

“You fit that ‘boys will be boys’ stereotype.” He said through a mouthful of cookies he’d just baked.

Lance arched a pointed eyebrow. “What do you mean? Isn’t that phrase kinda toxic?”

“Well yeah, obviously. What I mean is like you’re mean to Keith even though you like him. Kinda what boys in elementary school do to girls they actually like.”

Pidge snickered in agreeance. “You do act like a grade schooler.”

Lance nearly choked on the milk he was drinking, while the other two paladins laughed at him mockingly before Lance jabbed a finger into Pidge’s chest. “Okay, well first off, I’m not a grade schooler, if anything you’re a grade schooler, being the youngest palad-”

“I’m smarter than you-”

“And secondly, Keith is NOT a girl so obviously-”

“You’re gay. I get it dude.” Hunk stated, a happy smile on his face.

Lance only stared at him wide eyed, mouth dropped before his jaw clicked shut. “Hunk, you know I am not gay-”

“Yeah, you’re probably bi if anything, but you literally haven’t gone a day without mentioning Keith since he left to join the blades. Don’t mean to call you out, but that’s his shirt isn’t it?” Hunk pointed at the My Chemical Romance shirt. Only one person here listens to that.

“I’ve always listened to MCR…”

“Since when?” Hunk raised a confident brow this time, and Pidge was quick to put Lance on the spot.

“Since Keith left.” With that, Lance stormed out the kitchen, while his two friends giggled quietly.

“Why is it always so cold in this castle?” Lance whined as he walked into the breakroom, seeing that Shiro was napping somewhat on the couch while Pidge and Matt were discussing something probably nerdy.

Shiro peeked one eye open at Lance, before closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the couch. “I don’t know. Is Keith’s jacket not keeping you warm?”

Lance flushed, before he scowled at the older male. “Excuse you, this is my hoodie!”

Shiro didn’t bother to open his eyes and look at him, but his tone of voice was amused. “So you both bought the same red and white jacket? Cute.”

Matt perked up. “Damn Shiro, you have eyes everywhere huh?”

“I actually have eyes built in my arm-”

“Ahem!” Lance interrupted, both hands on his hips. “I’ll have you know that when your beloved Keith dropped out of the Garrison, they ended up giving me the stuff he never received before he left.”

Shiro openly glared at Lance, which made him flatter. “It’s fine Lance, we’re just teasing you. We all know you miss you beloved Keith. It’s fine.”

Pidge actually took a moment to stop whatever she was typing up to stare back and forth between the two paladins, before Lance finally let up with a defeated sigh. “I, uh… I gotta put on my facemask. It’s that time again.” With that he left again.

No one said anything else to Lance about him pining over Keith. They’d shoot each other knowing glances when Lance would walk in wearing something that obviously was not his (you usually wouldn’t catch him dead in a Metallica shirt and skinny jeans) or try not to giggle when he even slightly mentioned anything about Keith or the blades.

Lance was slightly aware of his behavior. When he was cold at night (whenever night was in space) he’d sneak into Keith’s room to steal a few pillows, a blanket one night, and eventually had his whole wardrobe in his closet. Any missions they’d engage, Lance felt a bit more at ease with Shiro being the leader again, but it was hard to accept when he was just starting to get used to Keith leading the team. It was also weird to form sword, since that was Keith’s job.

Some days he’d go to the hanger and fly the red lion, wondering how in the world Keith got used to such fast and quick responding controls. He found himself thinking more into a flight or fight instinct, and nine times out of ten, he’d end up fighting, just how he suspected Keith would.

“I miss my bond with the blue lion, but I also miss Keith too.”

“Finally!” Hunk exhaled. “You admitted it!”

Lance grunted as he watched the game they were playing end. He put it on pause to sit back and lean up against the bed.

“Yeah, I guess. I wish we were more important to him than the blades were.”

Hunk took a moment to study his friend, before saying anything. “Lance… I don’t think it has anything to do with who is more important. I think it’s that Keith found a place to belong with the blades, that he just didn’t find here with us. Shiro and… well the rest of us, hoisted a lot of stress on his shoulders making him the leader and all.”

“That’s true I suppose. I just wish we had done more to get rid of his insecurities. It bothers me that he thinks so low of himself.”

Lance sighed as Hunk rubbed his back. “I’m sure you’ll convince him otherwise when he gets back.”

“What? How?” Lance perked up at that, excited at the thought of Lance returning, even for a little bit.

“Dude… have you seen your own room?” He gestured to the room, that was covered with Keith’s clothes in piles, and extra blankets and pillows that obviously didn’t belong to him. Lance could only shove him playfully while they laughed.

“Shiro.”

The leader took a second to turn around, so engrossed in the map and where they were stationing rebel fighters that he almost missed hearing his name. When he turned, his eyes widen with surprise before his face lit up in a smile.

“Keith! You’re back!”

They both hugged for a moment before Shiro let him go, hands placed on his shoulders.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, his tone laced with worry as he looked Keith up and down.

“Yeah. The blades decided to send me back here for a couple of days so I can keep up with you guys. Kolivan said I need time to kinda regroup. The work we’ve been doing, its… well you know.” Keith smiled and looked down for a second. While he definitely was pleased working with the blades, their brutal ways of believing the mission was more important than any individual did grate on his emotions a bit. It’s not that he didn’t agree with them, but every mission was life threatening.

“I understand. Maybe you should go rest up a bit, the others are having some down time. We can all meet up at dinner later.”

“Uh, about that…” Keith shuffled a bit. “If the other guys really didn’t want me apart of the team, you could have told me so Shiro. I honestly would have been more than fine just leaving, since I was never really a good tea-”

“Keith. What are you talking?” Shiro crossed his arms, wondering what could have spurred this on.

“Well, my stuff. You guys got rid of all my stuff in my bedroom. I already checked.”

Shiro could only blink for a second before laughing out loud. Keith jumped in shock for a moment, staring dumbly at the older man he considered to be his brother. Shiro was better at expressing his thoughts and feelings on things than Keith was, but like Keith, he didn’t have these kinds of out burst (Keith had angry ones, other than that, he was reserved).

“Oh Keith…” He sighed. “It’s not like that. Go check Lances room.”

Keith felt a vein pop in his forehead. “I swear if this is another cruel prank from him I’ll-”

“Just. Go. Check.”

Out of all the clothes Keith owned, Lance had to admit that his Garrison hoodie and sweatpants were the most comfortable. When the door slid open, revealing a red faced paladin in his tight black marmora suit (which Lance found admittedly hot), Lance went through a whole range of emotions. He went from anger, to embarrassment, to extremely happy to flustered in like two seconds that he choked on his on spit when he tried to say “uh”.

“Why do you have your hair up in a bandan- Why are you wearing my clothes?!”

Lance took a moment to recollect himself. “It’s not like you needed them after you left!”

“So you just take people’s things when they leave for a little b-”

“Don’t say it’s been a little bit! You’ve been away for several weeks now! Besides I’m the red paladin now-”

“Yeah, yeah I get it! You never wanted me to be the head anyways!”

Keith grumbled as he started to pick up his clothes. “That’s not true…”

“Of course it is. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying! Sure it might have been hard accepting that Shiro was gone and we had to rearrange lions but I never wanted you to leave me or the rest of the team!” Keith snapped his head at Lance, and his gaze softened a bit at how serious the tanned boy looked. He knew Lance could be serious at times, but it was far in between. Normally his flirty attitude put the rest of the team at ease, so this meant he probably felt deeply about this.

Keith sighed as he stood straight up with an armful of his own clothes. “I didn’t mean to upset you or anyone else by leaving the team and joining the blades. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Lance only frowned at that before coming closer to Keith and knocked the clothes back on the floor. “Leave your clothes here. There’s too much to carry back.”

“Okay where am I sleeping?”

“In here.”

“Excuse me?”

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Are you deaf and dumb? You’re staying here. I can make a makeshift bed with all the extra pillows and covers. There’s no point in taking all your stuff to your room when you’ll most likely leave again.”

Keith only blinked before he grinned at Lance. “What? Because you’ll only go back to get my stuff?”

Lance turned beat red at that, but he wasn’t sure if it was because Keith was lowkey flirting with him or if it was because Keith had a beautiful smile.

“Just shut up! To answer your question early, the bandana is to pull my hair away from my face. I’m about to put on a face mask. Wanna join?”

“Sure.”

Lance barely hid his delight at the answer. “Okay then get out of that ugly suit,” he lied through his teeth, “and wearing something more comfortable.”

“Hmm, okay.” Keith took a moment to watch Lance head into the bathroom to mix his concoction before he started to unbuckle his armor. “Hey Lance! Can you help me for a second?!”

Lance almost dropped the glass bowl he was mixing in before he shakily set it down. ‘Okay Lance, chill. He’s got nothing that you haven’t seen before!’ Taking a deep breath he slowly stepped out the bathroom to see Keith in nothing but the body suit.

‘Damn he looks good in black!’

“I just need you to unzip the back for me.”

“Y-Yeah. Sure thing.”

Carefully, he brushed away Keith’s hair (his hair felt like silk) and slowly pulled down the zipper, the noise it was making seemed like the loudest thing in the room and rang in his ears.

“The hell?” He cleared his throat, keeping his blue eyes going from broad shoulders to the narrow waist and small of Keiths back. “How the hell do you not get your mullet caught in the zipper of this thing?”

Keith scoffed at that. “For that, I’m gonna wear something of yours.”

“Fine by me.” Lance blurted out before mentally screaming at himself. Quickly, he turned on his heel to finish mixing the face mask.

Keith only stared at him before sliding the suit off, and grabbing some shorts and a tank top. So Lance like. He walked into the bathroom, watching Keith had some rosewater and witch hazel to the muddy concoction in the bowl. Lance took a moment to glance at him.

“Aren’t you cold wearing that?”

“No? It’s not nearly as cold in this castle as you say it is.”

“Well… it doesn’t get cold in Cuba.” There was almost a sad look in his blue eyes, and Keith felt bad that he brought it up.

“Hey, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine!” Lance chirped, trying to push away the thoughts of his family and home out of his head. “We need to pull your hair back from your face.”

Keith arched a thick eyebrow as he watched Lance go rummaging through a cabinet. “I look ugly without my mullet.”

“You’re ugly with it. Here.” Lance held up a hair band and a hair tie. “Turn around so I can brush your hair.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at him, before turning around. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Lance slowly started from the bottom, brushing his hair and smoothing it out with his hands. He couldn’t tell what Keith’s expression was, but by the soft sighs, he seemed to be enjoying it. It looked like at one point Keith’s hair was just normally short and he didn’t bother to get a trim, so it turned into a mullet at the base of his neck.

‘Does he wash his hair with coconut oil or something?’ Lance wondered, but decided not to ask. He brushed his grown out side bangs, and pulled it back into a tight and small pony tail at the top of his head. Afterwards he stretched the hair band over his head.

“Turn around.”

Keith turned towards him, and Lance pulled the hair band up over his face and made it pull back the rest of the lose bangs the pony tail couldn’t hold back completely. Lance stared at his face for a second, never having seen his whole face like this before. Keith happened to have high cheekbones, and pretty square jaw, while his forehead evened out the rest of his face. Not too big, not too small, and while he had thick eyebrows, for someone who probably didn’t tweeze them, they had a perfect and natural arch to them.

“You are a horrible liar.” Lance said, not holding back this time, and was delighted to see Keith blush and look away.

“Is the face mask ready yet?”

“Yes. You’ve probably never detoxed your face before, so I’m putting yours on first.” Lance dipped the brush into the mix, before brushing it over Keith’s face.

“Oh my god! It’s cold!”

“I thought you didn’t get cold! Now stay still!”

They both bickered back and forth while Lance painted Keith’s face with the green mix, Keith watching through the mirror and making snarky comments about Lance’s lack of painting.

“Yeah well, we’ll see you do better.”

“I will!” Keith snatched the bowl after Lance finished and dipped the brush into paint Lance’s face next. With a shaky hand, he decided to start with Lance’s forehead, figuring it would be the easiest.

“Wow you already got it in my eye brows!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you have any to begin with. Compared to me anyways.”

“Excuse me? Are you blind too? I’ll have you know these eyebrows are the fullest you’ll ever see. They have never been touched by a razor.”

“Suuuure.” Keith laughed at him. “Stop scowling. You’re gonna mess me up.”

Lance sighed irritably and watched Keith paint on him through the mirror, but every now and then he would look at Keith and note how adorable he looked when concentrating. Keith would look back at him, and for the first time noticed the deep blues in Lances eyes. ‘He really was meant to be the blue paladin huh?’ Embarrassingly, they both would look away.

Once finished, Keith set the bowl in the sink and turned on the hot water so it’d melt off the bowl.

“So uh… how long will you be here for?”

“Several days.”

Keith looked at Lance, trying to figure out what was making him look so serious.

“Hey can I ask you something?” Keith broke the awkward silence, watching how Lance stiffened.

“Y-Yeah?”

“… Are you doing that thing elementary boys do to girls they happen to li-?”

Keith stopped as he watched Lance groan and bang the back of his head against the wall. “Not this again…”

The shorter male blinked for a moment, before feeling a knot well up in his throat. “What- Actually nevermind. That was a dumb question and that’s a stupid analogy.” Quickly, he went to leave the bathroom, but Lance quickly got his arm and gently pulled him back.

“Keith, it is like that. Kinda?”

“Kinda?”

Lance pulled down the collar of his- Keith’s hoodie and was actually thankful the mask was hiding his surely red cheeks. “Kinda, because that is a really stupid stereotype. I don’t want to be mean to you anymore, I never meant any harm in making fun of you, but… I don’t want to pick at you to a point where you feel you have to leave the team.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. “Lance, it’s not like that-”

“Yes it is like that! Even if you didn’t take it that way, it didn’t help you feel any better about belonging here. I’m almost positive Shiro hates me for it.” Lance hugged himself, shivering at the cold and rubbing his shoulders.

Wordlessly, Keith grabbed Lances hand and sat him down on the bed, crisscrossing his legs and sitting across from him. “Lance, listen… I can’t explain why I joined the blades. Part of it is because I wanted Shiro to reconnect with the black lion and the other part… I’ve had the knife on me for as long as I can remember and joining the blades… I feel I’m one step closer to finding out who I really am. It has nothing to do with you picking on me, okay? I’ll always be apart of Voltron, even if I am not physically here with all of you. Besides, I already know you like me.”

Lance perked up at that, eyebrows raising. “Really?”

“Yes. We would not make a good team if you absolutely hated me.”

‘Idiot, not that kind of like.’ Lance felt his world damper a bit, all hopes lost.

“I didn’t mean that kinda like. Like… I like like you.”

It was Keith’s turn to be surprised. “Really? I thought you were straight?”

Lance wrinkled his nose at that. “What gave you that impression?”

“For starters, every planet we’ve gone to you find some girl to hit on.”

“Hmm.” Lance scratched the back of his head. “Good point. I guess I’m bi then, but I’m like ninety nine percent sure you’re as straight as the stick up your ass.”

“Believe in the one percent. I’m gay as fuck.”

“What? Seriously?” Lance choked, almost wondering if Keith was messing with him.

“Yes, seriously! Why would I lie about that?”

“Wow, I like Galra Keith.”

“Man! Shut up!” Lance laughed at him wholeheartedly, and Keith could only Lance back, feeling it was music to his ears.

“Okay, well…” Lance began, quieting down a little. “Do you wanna kiss?”

Keith smirked at him. “Damn you move fast. You haven’t even taken me out on a date yet!”

Lance pouted, his bottom lip sticking out. “Are you rejecting me?”

“Well if we kiss, you’ll mess up our face masks.”

Lance feigned heartbreak, throwing his hand over his chest. “You are rejecting me! To think I’ve never been turned down before!”

“Oh? And Allura hasn’t rejected you a million times before?”

The former blue paladin scowled at that. “She’s probably asexual.”

“Or a lesbian. Better yet, just not interested in you.” Keith teased, watching how Lance was starting to throw a fit.

“Oh shut up! Why do you care if she’s not interested in me?”

Keith crawled closer to keith, placing his hands and Lances thighs and leaning into Lance, his face inches away from the other. “Because I’m interested in you.” Slowly, with closed eyes, he moved in to gently kiss Lance. It was nothing but them pressing their lips up against one another, but the action was intimate and Lance closed his blue orbs to hold the moment. After a moment of pressing up against one another, Keith pulled back before it could get to heated. He wasn’t ready for that, and he didn’t want to mess up their face masks.

Lance’s eyes fluttered open and they looked into each other’s eyes before Lance spoke softly. “Several days… that’s not enough time for us to figure out where we’re going with this.”

Keith sighed, head bowed. “I know, but at least I have one extra thing to come back to. In the meantime, you can keep my clothes.” He glanced at the clock, and got off the bed. It was around the time Coran would serve dinner.

“Of course…” Lance sighed, dewy eyed as he Keith held his hand and let him out the bedroom door.

[brettanomycroft]

Kidge Week, Days 1 and 3 (Jealousy, Change)

Strolls up with unedited fic for Day 1 of @kidgeweek two days late, desperately clutching an empty can of Red Bull. 

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender Paring: Keith x Pidge Words: 4528 Tags: Jealousy, post-war, swearing, innuendo, translation errors

Read part 2 here

“Hangin’ in there, man?”

For someone who out-massed and out-muscled most, Hunk could move with surprising delicacy when he set his mind to it. Keith had been in the line of fire - figuratively and literally - enough by now not to startle when Hunk’s voice piped up right at his side, but the serene smile on Hunk’s face told Keith that he’d been caught. His fixation on the beings clustered throughout the ballroom had left him blind to Hunk’s approach.

“I’m fine,” was Keith’s curt reply.

Six years was a long enough time for both to know that Keith meant no offense and Hunk took none; Hunk laughed and pointed to the small plate in Keith’s left hand.

“You may be fine, but what about that poor napkin?”

Keith’s right hand stilled. The napkin on his plate had been torn into a fine crumble, the victim of a racing mind and a need to fidget.

“I guess I’m a bit bored,” he conceded.

That wasn’t quite it though, and Keith’s words must have been even less convincing than his voice, given the way Hunk shook his head and let out a short hum. Keith sent up a prayer that Hunk would question no further, and for once the universe seemed to answer: Hunk opened his mouth, and at that exact moment, a familiar voice rose up from the other side of the room.

“Hunk! This one requests your presence for the purposes of an introduction!”

Even in a room crowded with aliens of all types, Shay stood out from the rest. Like Hunk, she towered over the more diminutive species present, and it was as impossible to miss her waving hand as it was to miss the way Hunk’s smile softened as he waved back.

“Well, I guess I gotta go over there for a bit, but try not to be a wallflower all night. Go ask Pidge to dance or something.”

Keith blinked, then whipped around to face Hunk, scowl fixed to deliver, but Hunk had already begun to leave as stealthily as he’d arrived.

“But no one is dancing!” Keith called after him.

“I know!”

Hunk merged but did not blend in with the crowd, moving through the tight knots of chatting aliens with ease. Narrowing his eyes, Keith stared him down until his meandering path took him back to Shay, but not once did Hunk turn back.

With a sigh, Keith leaned against the wall. He was not going to take Hunk’s advice, because it was obvious that there was no dancing happening, nor would there be. Besides, Pidge had been occupied all night. He looked down at the ruined napkin still on his plate.

He was just contemplating a resumption of his prior activity when a lizard-like quadruped skittered up to him and bent down in what looked like a quick approximation of a bow. The creature raised a clawed foot.

“Please allow me to take that from you, Red Paladin of Voltron.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

It shook its head and looked up at Keith through bulbous, orange eyes. It was difficult to tell with it’s strange, cross-shaped pupils and lack of discernible mouth, but Keith thought it looked like the creature was almost pleading. “It would be my pleasure, Red Paladin of Voltron.”

Keith wordlessly handed over his plate and the alien waiter shivered in delight.

“Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, Red Palad-”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Rather than seeming put off, the waiter bobbled its head and dipped back into another bow. Keith watched as it and his last distraction slithered away.

Diplomatic affairs like this one always made Keith antsy. With the war against Zarkon’s empire ended and the Altean Galactic Alliance victorious, the meetings, galas, parades, negotiations, dinners, and displays were endless. He understood the necessity of them, just as he understood the necessity of displaying the Blade of Marmora’s sigil on the breast of every uniform and fancy outfit it had been necessary to have tailored for him, but that didn’t mean he did more than tolerate them. Making small talk and kissing babies were more Shiro and Hunk’s specialties.

It was fortunate that Allura understood that much; unless there was a situation where the Alliance required the “unique charms” of their only Galran Paladin, Keith was left free to stick to the outskirts of the party, where he could exchange snide comments and, when the meeting allowed, overdrink whatever fermented alien beverage was available with Pidge.

And that, he allowed to himself, was a part of his problem. His solitary ways weren’t often commented on at gatherings like this, because it wasn’t often that he was alone. As useless and uncomfortable in large social settings as he was, Pidge had become Keith’s party partner in crime. Nights on end had been spent smuggling edibles from various kitchens back to their rooms in the Castle, inventing names and elaborate backstories for the hundreds of alien beings that attended these types of events, and, when eventually approached by the more curious of said aliens, challenging the other to speak in the most ridiculous Terran accents they could come up with. Pidge currently held the title for “Most Unique” accent with her blend of Swedish Chef and New New Jersey; Keith, however, won “Most Times Making The Other Crack Up” with his finest, thickest Texan drawl. Some nights, however, they sat back, content to watch the universe turn around them as they shared a glass of nunvil and childhood memories from Earth. They kept each other sane, and, more importantly, kept the other from starting any interplanatary incidents.

But tonight was different. A dinner arranged and hosted by the finest scientists and academic minds of the Alliance required the attention of Voltron’s Green Paladin, legendary across systems for her improvements and modifications of the technologies of some of the galaxy’s most advanced societies. Less than a month ago, Pidge had rigged up a machine capable of filtering from air the lethal products of the non-Druid quintessence refinement process using some old Altean circuitry and Lance’s shoelaces; Keith was pretty sure he’d spotted one of the dinner’s attendees salivating as she spoke about it with another guest. In fact, everyone he’d passed or overheard throughout the evening seemed near-rapturous at the prospect of even being in the same room as Pidge.

As far as he could figure, the only advantage of Pidge’s fame was that it made her easy to find. Although the crowd ebbed and flowed throughout the room, conversing, eating, exchanging data, their motions all seemed fixed in orbit to Pidge’s presence. As she moved, the room moved with her. Keith rose up on his tiptoes and spotted her in an instant.

In a large group, Pidge was awkward at worst. At best, she was a passionate, rambling whirlwind, flying from thought to topic to query and back again in a jumble of half-questions and incomplete sentences. Pidge could be difficult to follow sometimes even in one-on-one conversations; nerves and an acute self-awareness of just how she sounded when she got worked up had a tendency to make her incoherent.

But tonight, it didn’t seem to matter if her thoughts tripped up her words on their way to her mouth. The audience of doctors, scientists, and historians absorbed every syllable; rapt eyes took in every gesture. What’s more, they probably understood it all. She was as in her element as Keith had ever seen her.

He had tried, and failed, not to watch her all night as he circulated the edges of the room. With Pidge busy, there hadn’t been much else for him to do. Even Lance, who would join their shenanigans on a regular basis, was busy practicing his charm on the two lithe aliens who had approached him not long after the start of the event. Keith had expected Lance to strike out with the no doubt brilliant beings he was sandwiched between, but from the looks of things, their interest in him was more than academic.

Shifting from foot to foot, Keith  glanced down at the slim ticker on his wrist. About two vargas to go.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could make it, an issue no doubt. The bigger part of his problem, however, was the bipedal alien who loomed at Pidge’s shoulder, nodding as she spoke. Tall and red-skinned, their humanoid features were more unusual than handsome, though there seemed a mathematical symmetry to the wide, high cheekbones, arching brow, and diamond-shaped eyes. And while Keith most certainly hadn’t been charting Pidge’s movement throughout the party, if he had, he’s sure he would have noticed how closely they seemed to stick to her side, ignoring the understood patterns of meet, converse, and move on that everyone else was obliged to follow.

It was obvious from just a few doboshes of watching that they were itching for Pidge’s undivided attention. More than once, they had rested their hand on her elbow and attempted to steer her away from the crowd, only to have more new faces appear and request an introduction. The alien was polite to be sure, never interrupting an introduction or talking over another guest, and attentive in the extreme, parting from Pidge only to bring her food or drink, but it didn’t matter: everything about them set off every red flag in Keith’s head.

Keith turned away just as they turned their head to look at him. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been caught outright staring, but he nonetheless ambled over to the food table and went through the motions of saying a few words to an Arusian ambassador he recognized from one of the earliest Alliance meetings. If he snuck a couple of glances over to Pidge and her new shadow, well, it wasn’t more than two or three times.

It didn’t help that she looked good. It didn’t help that, when he’d said as much outside the doors to the massive dining hall, she’d gone pink, jabbed an elbow into his ribs, and reminded him that she was expected to remain semi-coherent tonight. And it definitely didn’t help to be struck with the grueling realization that she could be covered in garbage right now and he would still be fixated on her.

Pidge isn’t covered in garbage though, and even Lance had seemed impressed at how well she cleaned up. She’d finally allowed the mice to comb through the rat’s nest that occupied the space above her skull. Somehow they’d spun soft, loose waves of burnished gold from the mess, a sight Keith had been privy to for a few ticks before Hunk whisked her away and wove her hair into thick braids that curled crown-like atop her head. She’d donned the single outfit she liked out of all special ones made for events like this, a pair of doe-colored leggings worn under a tunic of diaphanous, moss green material. Even with the tunic cinched low on her waist with the toolbelt she insisted on wearing at all times, Pidge looked like she’d appeared from between the tall roots of some ancient, otherworldly tree and stepped straight into the room’s clearing.

Quiznak, now he was thinking in similes.

Tearing his eyes away, Keith slumped against the wall and crossed his arms over her chest. No one would mind that the Red Paladin of Voltron was standing in a corner not brooding. His reputation as the intense, stoic defender of the universe would be easy to uphold tonight.

He tapped his foot. Looked down at his ticker. Scanned everywhere in the room but where Pidge stood. Ran his tongue over his teeth to feel for any stray bits of food. Checked his ticker again.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of deep red and looked up. The alien who had been glued to Pidge’s side passed him, making their way to the food table. Against his will, his eyes shifted to locate Pidge and found her making a beeline towards him.

“We’ve got a problem,” she said the moment she was within hearing range.

Years ago, Keith and Pidge discovered their uniquely mutual ability to pull the longest, world-weightiest eye rolls from one another. Keith drew on this ability now. By the time his eyes fell back on her, she’d started on her own exaggerated roll.

“Seems like you’ve been doing fine all night,” Keith said.

“Quit being petty-”

He threw his hands up with a tight “I’m not!” but his protests fell limp at Pidge’s raised eyebrow.

“Okay then quit being jealous and a liar,” Pidge continued with a smug grin, “and help me with this problem.”

They paused and passed off serene smiles as a delegation of Ukkarian physicists neared. The moment the group passed, Pidge locked arms with him and spun them both around so that they faced the corner.

“I’m not being jealous,” he grumbled.

Interlocked as they were, Pidge couldn’t elbow him in her usual fashion, but that didn’t stop her from trying. They scuffled for a few moments, never releasing the other’s arm or moving away. Both got in a good shot before Pidge cheated by going lax and draping herself over him. He propped her up with one arm and sighed.

“I could drop you.”

“You could,” she mused, “but then I’d have to add ‘rude’ to the character traits list in your file.”

“I’m shocked it’s not already there.”

“That’s because most of the time when you do rude shit, it’s hilarious.”

Her deadweight against his arm was beginning to prick at his muscles; sliding his hand down to her waist, he adjusted his hold on her. Even with their awkward arrangement, Keith felt more at ease now than he had since he and Pidge parted at the beginning of the night. No one would notice if he kept the star guest of the evening to himself for the rest of the event, right? It’s not like he was the only one trying to.

“The jealous-broody streak is hilarious, too,” she added. If her smirk got any more knowing, Keith decided, he’d drop her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, even as his fingers flexed against her side.

Pidge laughed and gave him a pointed look, but was ready when he yanked his arm out from underneath her. She barely even wobbled before straightening herself back up to standing. Nonetheless, she let out a pained sigh as brushed flat invisible wrinkles on her tunic.

“Didn’t you have some kind of crisis in the works?” Keith said before she could get going again.

It was like an electric current had run straight up her spine. She sprung into motion, bouncing from foot to foot as she looked over both shoulders.

“Yes, and it’s serious, and I can’t *believe* I got distracted from what’s possibly the biggest intergalactic crime this side of the war,” she said. She smacked her forehead and then ran her hand up through her hair, where it met new resistance from her braids. Needing something to do with her hands, Pidge dropped them on Keith’s shoulders. She crowded in. His entire body went rigid. Her lips brushed his ear as she spoke. Sparks shuddered in the space below his ribs.

“Keith, they don’t know about Star Wars,” she hissed.

Keith didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised; she was always talking three steps ahead in a conversation.

“What?”

“I know, right? Star Wars! Not a single one of these scientists and so-called Terran experts have ever seen Star Wars. Jyxlyx said something about how nice I looked, and I told them I was just copying Carrie Fisher, and then everyone around just looked at me like-”

He realized his mistake a tick too late: she’d already caught his blank stare.

“Like that. Like you’re looking at me now.”

Her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed to sharp slits. There wasn’t much of a height difference between them, but she nonetheless stood up on her toes and leaned in until their noses bumped.

“Keith?”

“Pidge?”

He went cross-eyed trying to focus on her face. Freckles and tiny flecks of scars did dizzy spins across his vision.

“Keith Kogane?”

“Yes, Katie Holt?”

Her huffed exhale crossed the non-existent space between them, heat on skin.

“Have you- are you telling me that you’ve never-?”

Keith entertained the notion of letting her carry on her fake indignation, but he knew she’d be even more put out if he ended her dramatic reaction before she could escalate to her usual goofiness.

“Never seen Star Wars? Yeah.”

But Pidge’s intentional overreaction was not to be deterred. Keith bit at his bottom lip to try and stop his grin as Pidge threw up her hands. “Blasphemy! Do aliens not know about Star Wars?”

She rocked back on her heels, still gesticulating wildly. Keith breathed for what felt like the first time in years. “Such disgrace! How are we even friends?”

“It’s truly one of the greatest mysteries of the known universe,” he replied dryly.

“We’re rectifying this immediately,” she said. She grabbed his hand and turned towards the entrance of the dining hall. “Shiro downloaded them all last time we were on Earth, we can use his drive-”

“What about the rest of the party?” he asked, as if his heart hadn’t begun to dance in delight at the prospect of finally getting to *leave* with *Pidge*.”

“Screw the party,” she snapped, tugging at his hand. “We can’t continue to associate for much longer if you haven’t seen at least one Star Wars movie, and that’s just not going to fly. Besides, you’ll love them.”

He let Pidge pull him along the outside edges of the packed room. More than once he heard one of the guests call for Pidge; Keith did his best to wave or nod as they passed, as Pidge, on her warpath, was far from paying attention.

Which is how he ended up with a chestful of stopped Pidge a tick later. He grunted as her head knocked painfully against his chin.

“Oh, please excuse me, Green Paladin of Voltron. I did not realize you were occupied. I have brought refreshments.”

The voice was high, pleasant but choppy, like a flute run through a synthesizer. Keith looked up to see the red alien who had attended to Pidge all evening with puppy-like dedication. They held a small plate of food in one hand, and two glasses of potent-looking aquamarine liquid in the other.

Pidge took one of the glasses they offered. They held out the plate. Pidge looked from the glass in one hand, to the plate, to her other hand, still occupied by Keith’s. Her fingers tightened around his as his relaxed to let her go.

“Thanks,” she said, “I guess I’m not hungry anymore though.” She turned to Keith and her eyes scanned his face. Whatever she read there must have been amusing: her lips quirked up in a little grin. “Jyxlyx, I’d like you to meet Keith, the Red Paladin of Voltron. Keith, Jyxlyx, the Chief Scientist of the Rylyh.”

Jyxlyx tipped their head in greeting, and Keith pressed his free fist to his chest and bowed.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Keith. I have heard much of your innovation in field of defensive piloting.”

Their eyes slid to where Keith and Pidge’s hands were joined, and went the slightest bit wide.

“Given your reputation,” they continued, “I suppose it is no surprise that you and Pidge are-”

They cut off, brow furrowing. Their eyes slid to the ceiling, pensive. There was an intensity about Jyxlyx that made Keith’s palm sweat - or maybe that was Pidge’s.

“I am afraid my knowledge of your Terran dialect is lacking the proper term. How would you say that the two of you are-” The sound that issued from their mouth next sounded distinctly Altean. Keith didn’t recognize the word, but given the way Pidge stiffened, he bet that she did. Her jaw went slack.

“Ah, well, you see, on Earth it’s a little- you know it’s a lot like- well, ah-” Pidge tripped over her words. “There are a lot of different ways to express that, it’s just-”

Jyxlyx’s attention shifted to Keith. “Perhaps the Galran equivalent is that you two would be-” and then they uttered a guttural Galran phrase that Keith’s clunky interpretation skills could best interpret as “Bonded”.

Which wasn’t untrue, of course. Keith and Pidge were bonded, just as all of the paladins were. It was easy after all of this time for one of them to suss out the mood of another, or establish a psychic connection. The number of breakfasts spent with the entire group finishing each other’s sentences were impossible to count by now.

Keith nodded and repeated the Galran word Jyxlyx had said. “Yeah, we are.”

The reactions that crossed Pidge and Jyxlyx’s face couldn’t have been more different. Pidge launched into a perfect impression of a ripe tomato; Jyxlyx’s face lit up into a bright smile. Were their hands not full of food and drink, Keith thought they might have clapped in delight.

“So the close nature of the paladins is more than a rumor!” they said.

“Yeah,” Keith said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, when you fight side-by-side with someone for years, it happens.”

Pidge wrenched his hand, hard. He glanced down at her, curious, but the redness of her face and the tight pull of her lips told him nothing more than that he’d said something wrong.

“That’s wonderful,” Jyxlyx said. “But now you must tell me what the phrase would be in your dialect.”

Pidge glared at Keith. He shrugged. He’d had no idea exactly what Jyxlyx had said, and outside of Coran, Pidge was most qualified to translate.

“The standard word for-” Pidge mimicked the Altean word perfectly, “would most likely have two near translations. The closest predicate would be ‘dating’.” She stared straight at Keith as she spoke, and he could hear as well as hear the frustrated fire that licked at her voice. His stomach plummeted. “The closest ungendered subject would be ‘partner’.”

Jyxlyx nodded along, fascinated by her explanation. They seemed not to have noticed that Pidge was now crushing Keith’s fingers between hers, or that the blood had drained from Keith’s face.

“But the direct translation,” she continued, “would be *mating pair*.”

Keith kept his mouth shut, didn’t even breathe. Was he more shocked by what he had unknowingly suggested, or terrified of what wrath he would face as soon as Pidge was done exchanging good-nights with Jyxlyx? In some distant corner of his rapidly shrinking universe, he was aware that Jyxlyx had expressed their pleasure at having met them both, and wished them a joyful ‘dating’, and that they would leave them to enjoy the rest of their evening. He must have responded in a satisfactory fashion, for Jyxlyx left them a moment later.

“Outside?” he breathed.

“Outside,” she wheezed.

No one stopped them as they hurried out. The long hallway leading to the ballroom was empty, but that didn’t stop them from heading straight to the farthest, darkest corner at the end of it. Drenched in shadow, Keith’s vision took a moment to adjust. There were advantages to having Galran blood, and the ability to see even the smallest twitches of Pidge’s expressive face even in such darkness was one of them. Her expression wasn’t one he recognized as angry, but she kept pursing and drawing tight her lips, and her eyes were narrowed.

“Was it something I said?” he asked, because apparently he had a deathwish.

“Yes?” she started. “I mean, yes, but no? But also like, did you have any idea what they were asking?”

“They used the Galran word for ‘bonded’,” Keith said. He would have liked to have crossed his arms over his chest, a small defense against the woman only inches from him, but Pidge still had his hand, and didn’t seem like she would be letting go of it any time soon. “Which isn’t wrong.”

“Okay but they also used the Altean word for ‘fucking’, Keith,” she hissed.

He’d figured that much out by the end of their conversation with Jyxlyx, but hearing Pidge say it now made it all the more real. His brain took the most logical - and least helpful - leap, whispering ‘What if?’ as it teased him with the notion of what else could happen between the two of them in a dark, empty corner. Never before had he been so glad that humans had weak low-light vision.

“They did not use the Altean word for ‘fucking’,” Keith said, hoping to cover the sound of his heart blasting away in his chest. “I know that one, and they definitely didn’t use it.”

Pidge waved off what he was saying, then stepped closer so that he could hear her fast, low words. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips.

“There’s more than one Altean word for ‘fucking’, Keith, and now that’s what everyone in that room is going to think we’ve been doing.”

She stared him down, chest rising and falling in sharp jerks. Anxiety? Anger? Or was she mirroring him?

“Is there something wrong with that?” he dared.

“Quiznak no, I’ve been wanting- But if everyone’s under the impression that we’re doing the do when we’re not even doing *anything*- it’s like expectations, and then reality, and then-”

She seemed so caught up in trying to string together a sentence that she wasn’t fully aware of what she’d said. Keith hadn’t missed it, though it was possible his brain had stopped at ‘wanting.’

Keith pulled her hand to his chest. Her eyes grew large, and she looked like she was about to speak a tick before he said, “Then let’s meet their expectations.”

Pidge was silent for not more than two heartbeats, but it felt as though it stretched on into eternity. She slid closer until he swore he felt their very molecules meet.

“Right now?” she said. “In the middle of this party?”

He touched his forehead to hers. Brought their joined hands up and placed hers on his shoulder. Could she feel his pulse? They were near enough.

“We’ve done wilder things at an interplanetary gathering.”

“Point,” Pidge said, lips parting into a smile. “Then let’s do it.”

She gave his shoulder a gentle push, until his back bumped the wall. His hands slipped down her back. Her knee slipped between his legs. It was fortunate that she did; Keith wasn’t sure how long his knees would hold out, given how weak they felt with just this simple closeness.

“Really?” he murmured. Dipping his head, he let his lips ghost along the skin of her neck until he reached her ear.

“Yeah.” Her breath hitched. “But on one condition.”

“Go for it.”

“We watch Star Wars in my bed after this.”

Keith had a feeling his answer wouldn’t lost in translation when he covered her lips with his.