#paladin pidge

[mushed-kid]

voltron as textposts etc. 46

(klance in this one ugh god i missed klance i love them)

[nikogane]

paladins of voltron! in my artstyle

individual versions—

[autisticlancemcclain]

The ship was shaking like a kid holding a goldfish bag.

It was not, in case you were wondering, a good time. 

Keith grit his teeth, planting his boots on the ground and half-walking half-climbing over to Allura, who was paler than Keith had ever seen her. The grip she had on her podium was tight enough to drain the blood completely from her knuckles. Despite his own fear, Keith’s heart softened for her. 

“How is it looking?” he asked, shouting over the noise of a thousand asteroids and a million laser strikes. All while their lions sat, drained of quintessence, locked in their hangars

One goddamn thing after another. Jesus. 

“It is looking bad,” Allura shouted, not taking her eyes off the space in front of her. “I can’t – Coran, I can’t hold it on my own!”

Coran looked back at her grimly. He had probably the most success keeping upright – seriously, was it posture or did he have a steel rod anchored to his back at all times – but even he was struggling against the whipping and shuddering of the massive castleship, attention focused on the controls. Trying to keep the shield up as well as possible, trying to get their own defenses running. Trying, as always, to keep the castle going, even when the odds were a million to nothing. 

“You can,” he encouraged. The effect was less encouraging when a massive asteroid hit the side of the bridge point-blank, throwing him right off the controls and splat into the walls. Despite Lance and Allura’s cries of alarm, he made a startlingly dignified crawl back to the deck controls.

Hell of a man, that advisor. 

He continued once he was steady, sweat beading on his brow but gaze soft and assuring. He waited for Allura to meet his eyes, then nodded, once. “Focus, girl. Hands on the spheres. Mind cool on the exhale. However we need to get out of this – you can guide us. Make your decision. Your team is behind you.”

“Yeah!” Pidge cheered, lifting her fist in emphasis from where Shiro held her steady, eyes trained on her computer screen. Blaring red lines of code Keith could not pretend to read flashing rapid speed in front of her, and she typed back at it just as fast, keeping their crackling systems at bay. “You got this!”

Allura breathed out. The tense line of her shoulders softened, just slightly, despite the ongoing chaos. She lifted her hands and rested them, gently, on the podium spheres as Coran instructed. They glowed. 

“We retreat,” she decided, nodding to herself. “We’re already low on quintessence, standing to fight will drain us dangerously. We must get to safety if we are to survive with our home intact.” She bit her lip, eyes opening. “But, uh, full disclosure, I have enough strength in me to open a wormhole and that is About It. I will be out of commission the moment it closes.”

Hunk shrugged. “We’ll catch you, then.”

“Try not to wormhole us into a black hole,” Shiro suggested, smiling slightly. “We’ll manage anything else, Princess.”

She laughed slightly, thankfully, but within seconds called out for everyone to brace themselves. Keith did as she heeded, or he tried to – but the castle got hit as he tried to crawl back to his seat, sprawling him on the floor. He glanced over at Allura, panicked, but her eyes were already glowing, and the space in front of them was already starting to warp. He swallowed roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. The floor was shaking too badly for him to get his bearings. He couldn’t get his feet under him, couldn’t stand, couldn’t dream to crawl to his seat. He stilled, resigning himself – he didn’t know exactly what would happen if he wasn't strapped down and protected during a wormhole jump, but it couldn’t be good. He had to hope for the best.

“God,” sighed a voice to his left, “you’d die without me, Dropout.”

A hand clenched the back of his jacket and yanked, pulling him tumbling onto another body. Quick as lightning a seatbelt was stretched over him, clicking into place just as the space in front of the castle finally warped, bright blue, and the entire bridge lit up so bright Keith was blind with it. 

When the light finally died down, Keith was half-convinced nothing had changed. The castle stopped shaking, but instead it was plummeting, hard and fast, controls dead and energy gone, towards the surface of a planet. 

“Someone catch Allura!” Coran shouted, and on queue the princess’ eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped forward. Luckily, Hunk had been more prepared than the rest of them, seatbelt already off and arms extended to catch her. He carried her back to her seat, buckling her in carefully, and strapping himself in next to her. Wise move – trying to crawl back to his own seat, fighting against the G-forces, would be near impossible.

There was a click, and then a shove, and then Keith got to feel those G-forces firsthand.

“What the hell!” he demanded, barely managing to catch himself on the arm of the blue paladin’s seat. “I coulda brained myself!”

Lance shrugged, playing for innocent, but a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Keith could’ve strangled him. “What? Thought I’d let you get back to your own chair. You're welcome for saving you, by the way.”

“Some saving, jerk! We're still falling!”

“Yeah. Personally, I would find somewhere to buckle up.”

“You’re so annoying,” Keith growled, and it was by spite alone that he managed to stomp back to his own seat and buckle himself in. He was bright red, anger making him hot – Lance always made him like this, so furious he could barely blink. One day they’d be making progress, working together like a dream, wiping the floor together, and the next it was like a switch was flipped. Like Lance was reminding himself that he and Keith could never get along. It was ridiculous, and Keith couldn’t for the life of him understand it. Was he so bad?

“Incoming!” Pidge shouted, shaking Keith back to himself. Her screen was now linked up with Coran’s, the only two things on in the entire castle – electronics seemed to come alive when Pidge touched them – and diagrams of the castle systems were blaring red, flashing with symbols Keith didn’t know, but recognised as bad. “The nav and power systems are down! It’s not safe to get anyone back there to force them back on manually, but I think I can get steering up in a sec. Shiro, I need your arm for power. Hunk, keep on Allura, make sure she’s upright when we crash, we don’t want a spinal injury. Lance, Keith, I’m turning steering over to you guys. Don’t fuck it up.”

Despite their bickering, both of them nodded. Neither of them particularly wanted to be turned into paladin pancake anytime soon, so they could collaborate for one thing. 

Seconds after Pidge spoke, a screen flickered to life in front of Keith. Stats blinked back up, glitching rapidly as they translated themselves into words and symbols Keith could understand. The hologram shifted and expanded to its usual 3D model, joystick in the middle, thrusters and controls to his left, a screen with Lance’s comm line to his right. In his little screen, Lance met his eyes, eyebrows raised in question. Keith nodded. Together, they wrapped their hands around the joysticks, breathed out, and let their minds fuse.

As always, it was a freaky feeling. Imagine the weird, shuddery feeling you get when you say the same thing as someone at the same time, voices layering, tone mixing, for a moment your own voice and the voice of a stranger synching into one. The weird, deja-vu-but-not of it, the uncanny valley feel of recognising your own voice but…different. 

Then multiply that freakiness by a hundred, and you still won’t quite get it. 

On some levels Keith was aware that he was his own person. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history – or well, some of it. Nothing about himself had changed. 

But at the same time, he was also Lance Esposita-McClain. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history, more of it than he could ever get from shared stories or mind melds. There’s no telling the way your sister’s arm feels hooked around your neck for the sixth noogie in as many minutes. There’s no explaining the way your breathing only gets calm with your feet in the saltwater. There’s no describing the curve of your mother’s smile. Nothing Keith was seeking out – no memories he would even know to look for – but they were there, simmering, triggered by a smell or the crook of his finger in a particular way. Memories stored in the body and the soul and the senses, not in the brain, shared when two consciousnesses become one. 

Lance’s mind was hyperspecific. It complemented Keith’s well, with all his flitting, quick detail-oriented observance. As Keith jumped from angle to angle, noticing the planet’s curve, the pull of its gravity, the heat of its atmosphere, Lance zeroed in on an island, one of the only ones big enough for them to land. While Keith kept their craft in control, steering along the air currents, Lance kept them directed, single-minded focus on a stretch of rocky beach – not exactly a soft landing, but not a lot of living things for them to destroy when they crash. (Keith would’ve chosen to land in the meadow. Crushing frogs and bugs or whatever is never something on his top priority list of things to avoid. But he didn’t argue when Lance nudged them towards what is about to be a very bumpy landing.)

“Brace yourself!” he shouted, not daring to look away to make sure his friends were buckled. Trusting that they were, he held his position, letting them plummet, coming closer and closer to splatting on the planet’s surface before finally yanking on the joystick as hard as he could. He felt Lance’s strength twist and tangle with his own, and together the two of them levelled the castle almost parallel with the ground, letting them glide on their own velocity until they slowed down enough to let the bottom of the craft brush against the rocky outcrop. 

It was the most turbulent landing Keith has ever felt, except maybe that time he and Lance crashed blindfolded into a sand dune, and every bump on the ground gave him whiplash. When the castle finally hit the ground for good, dragging them a gauge in the ground for several miles as friction finally slowed it to a stop, the leftover inertia yanked Keith forward so roughly the buckles of his seatbelt made something crack in his ribcage. When the castle finally stopped he got slammed back into his chair so hard he was almost surprised he didn’t fall right through the impenetrable material. 

It took a minute for everything to hit. His connection with Lance had been severed the second they hit the ground, too focused on being, y’know, crashed to keep holding on. After the shock of being tossed around like dice in a cup wore off, which did not take long, Keith’s body made it very clear that yeah, no, armour actually only does so much, and crash landing is one of those things that’s just bound to hurt. His skull pounded. At least one of his ribs was most definitely cracked. His wristed and knuckles ached from the strain of holding up the entire weight of the castle as he’d steered it. He was alive, obviously, but – Jesus. Being alive sucked.

“Sound off,” croaked Shiro from somewhere left of him.

“Ugh,” groaned Pidge. “Screw you, Keith, I hate it when you drive.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to let us crash,” Keith responded flatly.

“Um, you did, bozo, I asked you to land us –”

“The castle was dead! What did you expect me to –”

“Allura and I are both fine,” Hunk interrupted. Amusement lined his voice. “She’s still out, but she’s breathing fine, and I didn’t let her hit anything on impact. She should still get checked out, though.”

“Roger that,” Coran agreed. “Ease your worries, Number Two, you did well. I will have her in the MedBay as soon as our systems are up and running again.”

“Oh, whew, that’s a relief, because I didn’t want to say anything but she kinda jammed her elbow into my sternum by accident and I’m not blaming her or anything since she’s unconscious but I think my spleen may be a little dead, not a huge deal I’m sure but –”

“Everyone quiet!” barked Shiro. “That’s six accounted for! Who’s missing?”

Immediately, heart pounding, Keith whipped to his right. His stomach dropped. The Blue Lion Command Chair was empty – seatbelt torn somewhere on the shoulder, cracked helmet overturned carelessly on the seat. The crisp blue and white lines were marred by a small splash of red. Panic clawed its way up Keith’s throat, and he was out of his seat before he could register unbuckling his own straps, looking frantically around the bridge. 

“He’s here somewhere,” Pidge fretted, “he couldn’t’ve just disappeared –” 

Coran had a gloved hand clenched in his hair. “The windows and walls should be almost impenetrable, there is no way the crash broke them enough to let someone in –”

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck –”

“Guys,” a soft voice interrupted, and Keith could’ve collapsed with relief. The castle has been flipped sideways during the fall, floor suddenly now 90 degrees, and standing at the side of the control board, now the very high top, was Lance. For whatever reason he had climbed it while they bickered, and now stood very still, gloved hand pressed to the glass of the windshield. Blood trickled from his temple, tracing a line down the side of his face, disappearing in the neckline of his armour. “We got company.”

Shifting gears – Keith was about to tear him a new one, when Shiro says sound off you sound off – but froze when he looked out the window, following Lance’s gaze.

Marching towards them, in numbers Keith couldn’t pretend to count, was an army.

— — —

part two

[flying-space-dog]

who are the paladins of voltron and why are they all autistic

[deckoftrickcards]

i feel guilty i only draw klance i promise i love the other characters (maybe not shiro)

[muurzipan]

[cisusnar]

Alien princessess 🧚

[theocanhavemyheart]

Lance: When I was a kid, Veronica told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year.

Pidge: They are!

Lance: FOR REAL?

Pidge: No! Why did you fall for it again?

[clickabletale]

how other artists depict “long haired pidge”

vs

how I picture “long haired pidge.”

[torveiglyart]

Continuation of the BlackPaladin! Lance AU. Keith is in for quite the surprise…

[mushed-kid]

vld as textposts etc. 51

(wowzers im shocked every time i make one of these, idek if people still like them)

[jiveyuncle]

Keith never believed he'd have a long life. He always figured he'd die young and that his death would serve some purpose. He'd die taking a hit for a teammate. Or go up in the flames of a violent explosion while dragging a civilian out of a targeted building. Or crashing his ship at Naxzela to prevent an entire system from being incinerated.

Keith was going to die. He was going to die young. His death would mean something.

He thought these things were a given - facts inscribed on the essence of his being - as unavoidable as a dream, programmed into him the way sleep always eventually demanded dragging creatures to realities outside their own.

Keith was reckless, not because he didn't value his own life - that value could be measured by what he did with it and what he could achieve by risking it - but because he valued others’ more. He was reckless because he cared too much - about the success of the mission, about someone left behind, about everything and everyone else - and that caring was going to be what got him killed. His paladin teammates shouted it at him after every rash decision. His blade comrades acknowledged it with approving nods after each close call. He would easily give up his life if his death meant someone else was saved.

So, when he wakes inside Red, blinking his eyes open only to come face to face with himself in the pilot's chair, things don't click right away. It's not that Keith is dead - that part he accepts instantly, understands on some subconscious level in the same inexplicable way the astral plane connects minds and quintessence links paladins to their lions - but it's the how that his brain isn't processing. It's not that he is staring at his own slumped lifeless body, but it is the trusted Blade member he'd been tasked with transporting to a location to disclose the latest intel on Galran troop movements simply dislodging their blade from Keith's neck, tucking the knife away in their armor, walking to the exit, and leaving as if nothing had just happened. It’s Pidge joking into the comms of Keith's helmet, and Lance joking back, completely unaware of the fact that in a moment, without fight, without reason or warning, without some big sacrificial act, Keith just ceased to exist.

It takes them 15 seconds to write off Keith's lack of a response to the joke as him being peeved about being the butt of it.

It takes them 5 minutes before Lance starts offering lighthearted apologies in the form of backhanded compliments.

It takes them 15 minutes to discover that Keith isn't at the meetup location at the time they agreed on and to realize something is actually wrong.

They find Keith's body cold.

There's a lot of panic that feels much too sudden and extreme after drifting through space with his own corpse in the quiet cabin for so long - too many emotions in his friends faces, loud cracking voices, shaking hands.

Lance presses a palm to the gash in Keith's neck and grabs a control arm with the other, begging Red to take them home. He can't feel how cold Keith's skin is through the climate-controlled gloves of his suit, but he has to recognize there is no pulse beneath his fingertips. “If you've ever loved Keith,” he pleads anyway, as if he doesn't already know.

They rush his body out like getting him to a pod will be of any help.

Keith can’t feel his body, but he feels tears on the floor of the cockpit and the vibration of feet down Red's ramp. He doesn’t sense pain, but he tastes his own congealed blood in the chair and, later, the antiseptic Coran returns with.

This is how Keith dies. Quietly. Without purpose. Alive one moment, and then not - wiped away with a cleaning rag beneath clenched fists, secret shuddering breaths, and a mouth whispering his name for the first time alongside words of regret.

Dead Keith/Red Paladin Lance AU (Part 2/?)

The event that set things in motion.

I’ve always wanted a canon story where the main character dies in some anticlimactic way, but I don’t ever see it because I assume it would really anger a fanbase or just feel really dissatisfying. The big question of, “For what reason? What purpose did that death serve?” And the reality is, death doesn’t usually come in the form of sacrifice or to satisfy some narrative. I’m obsessed with the idea of someone so important, a character who has lived through so many close calls just dying in such a simple and unexpected fashion - of dying without anyone knowing. It has to really fuck with Keith’s teammates extra bad - suddenly not knowing who they can trust, wondering any time there’s silence on the comms if one of their other friends just died without them noticing. Them each picking up little habits to signal to the others that they’re okay - Lance humming, Pidge tapping her fingers near the mic, Shiro clearing his throat, Hunk popping his lips. Uhg.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You can now read this on AO3 as:

Empty Spaces You Left Behind

[autisticlancemcclain]

“—Lance isn’t even paying attention!”

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

“I’m paying attention,” he lies.

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

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

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

“Honest!” Lance insists.

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

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

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

Fifteen minutes in, his phone buzzes slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How embarrassing.

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

mullet-head:

lance? you there?

mullet-head:

did you fall asleep during movie night

mullet-head:

are you pulling an old man shiro

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

loverboy:

i did not fall asleep u butthead

loverboy:

i’m not shiro

loverboy:

i’m not six i don’t need naps

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

mullet-head:

stop making me laugh i’m going to get caught

mullet-head:

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

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

loverboy:

patrol where??

loverboy:

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

mullet-head:

no no no it’s some supply centre

mullet-head:

look

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

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

Handsome.

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

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

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

Lance squints.

Hang on a second.

Is that flurexonomite?

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

It is! It’s flurexonomite!

loverboy:

GET ME THAT ROCK

loverboy:

PLEASE

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

loverboy:

THIS ONE

mullet-head:

are you serious

mullet-head:

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

mullet-head:

and you focus

mullet-head:

on a rock

mullet-head:

you massive nerd

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

loverboy:

PLEASE JUST GET ME THE ROCK I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER

mullet-head:

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

mullet-head:

you

mullet-head:

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

Lance can’t help his defensive scoff.

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

Lance has never moved so quickly in his life.

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

“Read it out loud!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is doomed.

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

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

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

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

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

His phone buzzes.

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

mullet-head:

video.attachment

He brightens. Two videos in one day?!

Being this gay is worth it, apparently!

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

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

God, Lance loves him so fucking much.

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

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

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

———

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

He misses his family.

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

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

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

He misses training with a partner.

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles. This is Lance’s dorky rock.

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

Like Lance’s eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

He falls asleep faster than he ever has before.

———

The castle is buzzing with excitement.

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

It’s visiting day.

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

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

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

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

“Lance!”

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

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

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

Four pairs of eyes blink at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good luck, Sharpshooter.”

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

“Wrong ass to be kicking, dontcha think?”

“Oh, shut up.”

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

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

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

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

“Since when do you believe in luck?”

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

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

He recognises that rock.

———

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

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

“Indeed,” Allura agrees tiredly.

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

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

“Missed you too,” Keith murmurs.

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

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

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

“What’s up?”

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

“The flurexonomite,” Lance says, grinning.

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Willie Nelson.”

———

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

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

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

They try to make the most of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A small, brown stone.

The flurexonomite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dorelia23]

Naaw my eyes are just sweating.

[spacebubblehomebase]

It's missing ✨️THEM✨️ hours again. Made with one of my favorite head-canons that HUNK was Lance's bi awakening! Everyone just thinks it's Shiro, but why would he simp for an older guy he barely knew and was said to be engaged with another guy himself when Hunk was hot and single and right there??? LMAO! So was this just an excuse to make a Hunk friendship appreciation post??? Yes. Yes it is. =) I'm not apologizing. -Bubbly💛💙