#preklance

[corvus--rex]

This got a pretty "meh" response on the bird app. Let's see how it does here. This is parts 1 & 2 as of right now

~~~

pt 1

Ever think that the tight clothes, gloves, tiny jacket that does absolutely nothing are because Keith believes he doesn't deserve care, comfort, softness? Lance hadn't, until he really noticed Keith's body language for the first time after the Blade trials. The tightly crossed arms, how he kept himself separated from everyone else even when in the same room, how he always looked ready to bolt at the slightest whisper. He kept everyone at arm's length, reinforcing that distance with sharp-tongued jabs and insults.

It got so much worse after Shiro disappeared. Keith's normally prickly at best exterior had been dipped in venom and no one could stop him from disappearing for hours in Red, scouring space for any sign of his missing brother. Lance couldn't even begin to articulate the relief he felt when it came time to have Black pick a new paladin. He didn't want Keith to be forced into a role he was in no fit state to be in and had already decided that he wanted it to be himself instead. Keith may be an asshole, but Lance cared about that asshole.

Lance reluctantly sat in the pilot's seat, running reverent fingertips over the controls. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, the silence of the cockpit holding the weight of a tomb until he finally let out a shaky breath.

"Hey, Black. I-I know you probably don't want me, but it's only me and Keith left, and I know what Shiro said about him leading the team if anything happened, but…I don't think he can do it, and I know I'm not the best option, but I'd rather it be me than him. He needs time to come back from this. He needs to be taken care of for once, and if this is only way I can do that, if it means I have to lead the team, I'll do it. I know I'm not as smart as Pidge or Hunk, but I'm stubborn as fuck and I'll get there. Just, please, let me take this on so he doesn't have to."

If the silence had been heavy before, now it was oppressive. Slowly, the weight became pressure, a focused pressure in the back of his mind, silence growing into a whisper. A soft purr rolled through the cockpit as the controls flared to life, filling the space with an ultraviolet glow.

Lance released the breath he'd been holding all at once. "Thanks. I'll give it my best."

He tried to get up, but Black's mental presence pushed him back down, the projected image feeling more real than illusory. He recognized the mechanical angelic wings from when Shiro had last flown the lion, but then the image shifted, a fully formed Voltron taking up his field of vision with similar but much larger wings. The feeling he got from Black was one of reassurance and a hint of things to come. With another soft rumble, the mental pressure dissipated, and Lance stood, Blacks head lowering as he walked down the ramp to the collective shouts and cheers from the team.

Lance couldn't help but notice one voice missing. Keith stood leaning against the wall but instead of the closed-off posture he almost always adopted, his arms hung limply at his sides, the shock on his face overshadowed by the tears of pure relief threatening to spill over. Lance shot him a small smile, one that said 'it's ok, I got you'. Keith understood, shooting one back in thanks as he wiped the tears away and slipped out without anyone else noticing. Lance watched him go, a realization just as startling as Black accepting him as his paladin hitting with the force of that very lion.

'Oh,'

Lance thought,

'Oh shit.'

He could barely hear the rest of the team over his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

'I think I'm falling in love with him.'

-~-

pt 2

Lance tried to make the adjustment period as smooth as possible, but they were all dealing with Shiro's loss, all grieving in their own way, although none quite like Keith. He tried to accommodate him as much as possible - Lance knew too well the pain of losing family - but he still needed to run the team through drills, both on the training deck and in space, forming Voltron again and again until he was confident they could do it in the heat of battle, especially with Allura flying Blue.

Outside of training, Lance was having a harder time keeping his newly realized feelings in check. Keith was more closed off than he'd been in a while, so Lance kept an eye on him as best he could, inviting Keith to game and movie nights in the lounge, including him in more conversations during mealtimes, but never pushing, and always respecting the answers he got.

Keith had actually started to relax a bit, accepting invitations when he was up to it sitting alongside the team but not always participating in whatever they were doing that night, letting himself get drawn into conversations even if he wasn't actively adding anything, just listening. Lance was starting to think they were making progress, both as a team and with their healing process, until Thayserix.

They'd lost Lotor in the gas giant, and Lance had to watch as Red took off beyond the shortened range of Black's sensors. He knew Keith couldn't possibly hope to track Lotor through the gas, and landed on a nearby mineral structure to wait.

He couldn't contact the team, and there was nothing to see within visual range, so he was left with only his own thoughts. Lance thought about how he was handling leading the team - he was honestly a little surprised they'd accepted him as Black Paladin, but when Lance brought it up just after training one day Allura had said that Black chose him for a reason, just as all the lions had chosen their Paladins. Both Hunk and Pidge told him that they had been friends for a while, far longer than they'd been in space, he'd been their pilot back when they were a flight crew at the Garrison, and while he may have been a little unhinged, they trusted him then and they still did. Coran echoed all of their sentiments, adding that he understood how hard it was to push forward while so far from home and that he was genuinely proud of Lance for continuing on in spite of everything. Lance nearly broke down in front of the whole team, instead accepting one of Coran's patented Dad Hugs™.

What Keith had said surprised him. He'd gotten pulled into what became the group hug with Coran on Lance's other side, and when they broke apart, he'd said quietly, for Lance only, "Shiro trusted you. He'd be happy it was you to fly Black. I trust you too. Black picked you and I'm happy he did. You're a better leader than I could be."

The soft, /shy/ look on Keith's face made Lance's brain short-circuit. He scrambled to come up with something, anything, even remotely coherent as he watched Keith walk out with the rest of the team.

The only thought that came to mind was 'How dare he be that cute?' Lance froze. 'Oh I am so fucked.'

[soulvtude]

lance ends up venting to shiro about how he feels about keith because he thinks keith doesnt like him

[vee-is-a-clown]

Preklance, Keith temporarily loses most of his memories of Lance (remembers that they went to the Garrison together but nothing since) and ever since he lost his memory he thinks Lance is weird for wanting to hang out with him. He says things like, "No, that's really gay. We're not dating, are we?" , "Dude, that is some homoerotic bullshit." , or "No, I won't spar with you one on one really early in the morning before everyone else wakes up because I'm not a repressed gay boy who'll disrupt my few hours of sleep to hang out with you." And honestly, Lance is a little confused. Like, Keith's gay. Why does he have problems with gay shit?

[corvus--rex]

bodyguard au, trans omega Keith/alpha Lance

I started this and it got away from me, so this is the original unedited twt thread. whenI have the spoons again I'll finish and post the second part to twt first and then here and then the rest (along with the expanded parts 1&2 will be posted to ao3.

Also, there is a description of a nsfm image so...

Keith needed a bodyguard. The vocalist/guitarist of Marmora had a stalker and it had reached a point he couldn't ignore, not when he'd been sent pictures of himself in his own home - pictures taken at different times of the day, doing anything and nothing.

Given that he was both trans and an omega, he'd dealt with shitty fans before, but this was terrifying. it had started over social media, unsettling comments on the band's posts that shifted to Keith's public accounts. For every account that was blocked, another took its place, and the comments continued.

But that morning he'd found the manila envelope on his doorstep, well inside the safety of his security system. He almost threw the envelope in the fireplace, not wanting to know what was in it, but curiosity got the better of him. Over a dozen blown up photos, all in black and white, taken from a different place each time.

There was one of him rolling around in the backyard with his huge husky mix Kosmo, one of him sprawled across his sofa late at night, the glow of the tv lighting his face, sitting at the huge kitchen island, coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, one from his bedroom, fresh from a shower with nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his hips, several others he only glanced at.

After the post-shower picture, they increased in intimacy until the last in the pile, another from his bedroom, naked, back arched and head thrown back as he came, his favorite knotting toy in clear view stretching his soaked pussy.

Keith stared at it, knowing exactly when that was taken. It was the night his last heat had started, his nest only half made before the first wave hit. He pushed the photo away, dislodging a single sheet of printer paper and sending it to the floor. He picked it up, dropping it to the island's surface when he saw what was on it.

Beautiful. You'll look even more exquisite screaming my name. Soon, darling. I'll have you very soon.

Minutes later, Keith was pulling out of his driveway, nearly crashing into his own gate in his desperation to get away from his own house. Kosmo whined in the backseat, but Keith was too afraid to leave him there alone or be without him. He hadn't managed to put the photos or message back into the envelope, and the image of him with Kosmo stared at him from the passenger seat. He forced himself to focus on the road, not looking away until he reached his manager's office building.

Once inside, he walked past Kolivan's admin and straight into his office, not caring who could be in there. Fortunately, his manager was alone, a spreadsheet of Marmora's upcoming tour and appearances on his monitor. Keith threw the stack of photos, emtpy folder, and typed message on Kolivan's pristine desk. He didn't realize he was shaking until Kosmo pulled on his sleeve, dragging him to the sofa.

"What's this?" Kolivan asked, but stopped when he looked through the first few pictures.

Keith had kept them in the same order they'd been in, note included, and said without looking up from Kosmo's head on his lap, "Keep going."

Kolivan handled each photograph carefully, taking in each image until he got to the last one. "Your bed doesn't face the windows and the curtains are drawn. How was this taken?"

Keith buried his fingers in the thick fur of Kosmo's neck. "I don't know. You-you don't think they've gotten inside do you? Set up cameras I don't know about?"

"I certainly hope not, but we can find out. Let me make a few calls." He picked up his phone, turning back to Keith once he'd found the contact he wa looking for. "I know a good private investigator. But with everything and then this," he gestured at the pile of photos and that note he'd stayed silent on, although Keith saw the rage in his hazel eyes, "I'm getting you a bodyguard, no arguments."

"Won't get any from me on that."

TBC…

-

divider/warning banner credit @cafekitsune

[corvus--rex]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron) Characters: Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Allura (Voltron) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Sort Of, Lance has a sixth sense, pre-klance, it'll be there if I ever expand on this, Attempted mugging, Attempted Murder, Minor car accidents, they're all related to Lance's sense, Ambiguous/Open Ending, no beta we die like my sleep schedule, transplant from the accursèd bird app Summary:

Lance has always had a sixth sense. A tingle in the back of his mind when something's about to happen. Everyone around him eventually comes to believe him when they see it happen. But it's been picking up more lately, and he realizes one day that someone's watching him. Who are they, what do they want, and what does it have to do with his odd ability?

[corvus--rex]

post canon klance/preklance thought:

Keith disappears on a BoM mission at the outer edge of a far-flung galaxy. His comm and suit’s on board tracker are found not far from the Milky Way, crushed. While Pidge, Hunk, and Matt try to reconstruct the devices and pull whatever info they can, Lance is restless. He knows Keith is alive, he can feel it, but without anything to go on, he has to wait. Until he feels the rush of the connection he had with both Red and Blue before the Lions left, although this one’s different. Instead of cool waves or fiery warmth, this one is huge, vast in its depth like the void of space. The lions are returning and Black is calling his name.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Dude I’m pleading with you for a black paladin lance fic

sorry this took me a hundred years 💀💀

Chocolate Chip Chivalry

Keith & Lance (Voltron), Black Paladin Lance, 1.5k Words

Summary: Keith is struggling with Shiro’s disappearance and his own inability to be what he thought Shiro wanted. Lance, it turns out, is a big help.

———

“Alright, buddy, up you get.”

Keith doesn’t move except to roll his sore eyes. If Lance thinks he’s gonna get Keith up for anything other than a mission, he’s got another thing coming.

“I will lift you out of that bed, Kogane, do not test me.”

This gives Keith pause. Because while Lance is kind of scrawny, he has this weird ability to do things that seem out of the physical realm of possibility for him when he’s feeling stubborn. A month ago, for example, he suddenly sprouted the ability to hear a whispered conversation several miles away, because he wanted to go home and finish a project of his. Truly remarkable.

So, yeah. Keith might be bigger than Lance, but he also knows from experience that if Lance says he will bodily lift Keith out of bed, then he damn well means it, and Keith would like to hold on to what’s left of his dignity, thanks.

“What the fuck do you want,” Keith growls, sitting up and glaring at the Cuban.

Lance raises an eyebrow back, completely unfazed. “I want you to get out of bed. You’ve been locked in here for three days, and it’s making you feel worse, not better.”

“I think I’m entitled to some fucking self-pity, Lance.”

“I never said you weren’t. I’m just saying that the rest of us have been crying with company, and it feels marginally less shitty than sobbing in your room alone.”

Keith really looks at Lance for the first time since he barged in, noticing the red-rimmed eyes and dried tear tracks. He starts to feel guilty. He’s been spending who knows how long holed up in his room, throwing himself a pity party, as if he’s the only one who lost Shiro. God, no wonder the Black Lion chose Lance instead of him, he’d be a shit leader, he can only think of himself he’s such a fucking douche, he’s a fucking waste of space —

“Cut that out,” Lance orders, narrowing his eyes at Keith. “No one’s mad at you. No one’s disappointed. We completely understand why you’re camped in here, and we get it. I get it. I just also know that it’s unhealthy, and I want you to do something to take your mind off of it.”

Keith is quiet for a moment, looking down at his fists, clenched in his sheets. He doesn’t really want to get out of bed. All he really wants to do is sleep or cry some more, and every time he thinks of his brother his eyes tear up on their own.

But some training probably wouldn’t hurt. The endorphins will probably be good for him, honestly.

“I guess I could train,” Keith mutters sullenly.

“Um, no. You will not be doing that. That’s going to make it worse, because you’re gonna —”

“So what the fuck am I meant to do, then, huh, Lance?” Keith demands. “Just fucking sit around and get more weak and useless? Maybe I can fucking summon Shiro with my mind, and then I’ll have a purpose again! Shiro asked me to do one fucking thing, just one, and I couldn’t even —” Keith breaks down into tears, again, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

Fuck.

He feels the mattress dip to his left, seeing Lance kneeling next to him out of the corner of his eyes. The next thing he feels is Lance’s arm over his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. Keith cries into Lance’s neck, soaking his shirt and skin, for what feels like hours. Lance doesn’t complain or move, only running a gentle hand down his back and making occasional humming noises.

Eventually Keith cries himself out, tears dried, leaving only those horrible stuttering breaths that are the aftermath of a period of misery. Lance pulls away a little, moving his hands so his palms are pressing on either side of Keith’s face. His hands are blessedly cool on Keith’s overheated skin.

“Shiro is not disappointed in you,” he says firmly. “Wherever he is, and whatever he’s doing, he’s proud of you. He always is.”

“But I’m a fucking failure,” Keith argues, feeling his eyes burn again. “He asked me to pilot Black, and she wouldn’t open for me. She opened for you, which makes sense, but I still feel like a let-down.”

Something unreadable flashes through Lance’s dark eyes, and then a look of determination settles in his features. He grips Keith’s hands and pulls him off the bed, making Keith stumble a little. It’s been a hot minute since he’s really moved a lot.

“Okay, change of plans,” Lance announces. “To the kitchens.”

Lance marches them down the hall, turning into the big double doors that lead to the dining area. He drags Keith all the way to the massive, industrial Altean kitchen, depositing him by the counter beside the stove, and walks to the fridge.

“Okay, we need butter, and eggs…” he trails off as he rummages through the fridge’s contents, occasionally moving to set down a few ingredients or equipment beside Keith. Keith watches him in confusion.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks.

“Start sifting two cups of flour into the pink bowl,” Lance says instead of answering.

Keith thinks about refusing, but he honestly doesn’t have the energy. He settles for rolling his eyes and muttering petulantly as he complies.

Lance continues to call out instructions as he buzzes around the kitchen, messing with the oven settings and God knows what else. Keith continues to follow the instructions, getting into a sort of rhythm of whipping or sifting or mixing or measuring.

Eventually, Keith fully clues into what he’s been doing for the past half hour and realises he’s successfully made a batch of space chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Okay, now scoop a bunch of that onto this cookie sheet. About twelve balls, evenly spaced, a little more than a tablespoon of dough on each spot.”

Keith hesitates a moment, because he realises he hasn’t really registered jack shit since Lance made him start on this. Not Lance’s idle chatter, not the fact that he literally made cookie dough, and, most importantly, not the overwhelming sadness and desperation he’s been feeling nonstop for the past three days.

But he continues on, scooping the dough onto the baking sheet, and then he sits up on the counter and watches as Lance slides them into the hot oven and sets a ten minute timer.

“Why did we… why did you make me do that?” Keith asks after a period of silence. He’s surprised at his own tone — only honest curiosity, not an ounce of hostility or anger. Huh.

“You needed to do something creative and tedious,” Lance responds simply. “Not to psychoanalyse you or anything, but you were very clearly going through a depressive episode, and that kind of thing helps.”

“Oh.”

They sit in quiet, contemplative silence until the timer goes off. Lance hops off the counter and puts on an oven mitt, grinning a little as he takes the cookies out. Keith gets it. They look perfect, and certainly smell amazing.

Lance expertly lifts each cookie from the parchment paper onto a cooling rack with a spatula, except for three of them, which he puts on a plate and slides towards Keith.

“There’s milk in the fridge,” he informs him. Keith nods, heading over to pour two glasses. He carries them back over to the counter, where Lance is waiting.

They both grab a cookie, biting them at the same time. Keith feels his eyebrows raise. These cookies are delicious, and usually Keith kind of sucks in the kitchen.

“There are really good,” Keith says.

“You did a good job,” Lance agrees.

Keith makes a face, looking at Lance strangely. “I didn’t make them.”

Lance raises his eyebrows, looking amused, but Keith recognizes the knowing glint in his eyes. There’s something else at play here.

“I didn’t do shit. You put all the ingredients together. You measured them, mixed them, scooped them. All you, buddy. I talked the whole time.”

“No, you — wait,” Keith pauses for a minute, cookie halfway to his mouth (they really are amazing), thinking back to the past forty-odd minutes.

“Huh,” he says after a moment. He really did make these cookies.

“You made these cookies,” Lance reiterates.

Keith looks at him suspiciously. “Why are you putting so much emphasis on that?”

Lance shrugs, but his knowing grin from earlier has only gotten bigger.

“You said you were useless, earlier. That you didn’t make a difference. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think a useless person couldn’t make these bomb-ass cookies, and they certainly made a difference in my day, so.”

Lance lets that sit between them, as Keith processes.

Well, damn.

“…Point taken,” Keith says eventually.

Lance smiles at him, big and bright, and nudges his shoulder.

“I know losing Shiro has sucked,” he says softly. “I can’t even conceptualize your pain — I don’t know what I’d do if I lost one of my siblings not once, but twice. I’m sorry, Keith. I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry that Shiro’s expectations weren’t right for you. But I promise you that we will find Shiro, whatever it takes, and I will do everything in my power to be the best leader I can be in the meantime.”

Keith smiles back, a little watery, a little emotional, but happier nonetheless. He reaches over to grab Lance’s hand, squeezing tightly.

“You’re already are, Lance. You already are.”

[lazyfox411]

VLD Whumpmas  Day 2: Indigestion

for day 2 of @vldwhumpmas2017​ !!! I decided to go with keith again. I wrote this last night when I was high off ibuprofen bc I have a nasty cold so I'm sorry if parts don't make sense

“It’s an Altean holiday,” Allura explained. “It’s a time to spend with family, a time for being thankful. Gifts are exchanged, and decorations hung,” the princess’ eyes gleamed with memory, “and oh, how beautiful the castle halls looked glimmering with lights and sparkles!” She clasped her hands under her chin, balancing on the balls of her feet as she imagined how it would look to have the castle all lit up and decked out once more.

“And the children,” Coran said wistfully, “gathering round to hear stories of the ancients, and share sweets, and sing songs. And the guests—oh, the guests! The castle was brimming with ambassadors and dignitaries from all over the galaxy! We laughed, and drank, and a great feast was prepared. Such wonderful times.”

“That sounds a lot like some of the holidays we had on Earth,” Lance mused.

“Really?” Allura asked. The paladins all nodded. “That’s amazing! Perhaps…we could celebrate together?” Allura’s excitement was barely contained, but it had already grown on the rest of the team. They cheered.

“Hunk, my man, you have truly outdone yourself this time,” Lance said, tapping his fingers against his plate in anticipation as he surveyed the array of food in the dining hall.

“This wasn’t all me, dude. A ton of our guests brought dishes from their home planets. It’s amazing!”

“It sure is,” Lance nodded, “I just wish we didn't have to wait at the back of the line.”

“It is common courtesy,” Allura reminded him, “our guests are served first.”

Lance scowled even though he knew she was right, and waited to take his place at the end of the line. He spotted Keith in front of him, and decided to give him a playful nudge. “Outta my way, mullet, I'm starving.”

Keith started to glare at him, but he picked up on Lance's smile and smirked back. They raced each other to get in line. Lance was pretty sure Keith let him win. He took a place in the long line of coalition allies behind Kolivan, and Keith shuffled behind him. They were all in good spirits, the magic of the Altean holiday Lance had long since given up trying to pronounce the name of making them all eager to smile and laugh.

The spread of food all of their alien guests had brought for them to enjoy had Lance's mouth watering just by looking at it. As much as he enjoyed talking to all their guests and meeting the kids from planets they’d freed, and taking pictures for his scrapbook—yes, Lance has a scrapbook, don’t judge him—his mind had started to wander. How much time had passed on earth? Had his family celebrated the holidays without him? Did they think he was dead? Did they miss him?

“Are you okay?”

Lance felt his ears turn red. He turned to find Keith staring up at him, owlish eyes filled with concern. They’d been getting along a lot better lately, but Lance was still a little surprised Keith had picked up on anything.

“Yeah,” Lance smiled. “I'm good.”

Chatter filled the room from guests who had already been served and seated at a clutter of small round tables. The line slowly dwindled until those at the back were practically jumping for joy. Lance filled his plate with the delectable pastries, meats, and sweets that lined the tables. He tried to make small talk with Kolivan to keep up the appearance that he was, indeed, fine, since Keith was still eyeing him dubiously. Kolivan was as good a conversationalist as Lance was a mathematician, that is to say, the conversation didn't continue past some offhand pleasantries. Lance focused on the food instead, since it was right in front of him. He would have to circulate the room and talk to their guests about what each dish was called. He really loved learning about all the diverse cultures that were in space. He watched Kolivan wrinkle his nose at a particular plate of food, but it looked good to Lance, so he took one of the little pink fruit slices for himself. He found a place to sit next to Pidge and some Olkari scientists. He tried to follow their conversation, but he really didn't understand what they were saying. He'd have to ask Pidge to explain it to him later. For now, he busied himself with snapping a few more photos for the scrapbook. Maybe he could show it to his family if he ever made it back to Earth. If.

He spotted Keith, standing uncomfortably in the middle of the crowd, holding his plate and looking for a place to sit.

“Keith!” Lance waved him over. Keith smiled, the tiny little smile he always seemed to get when he found people being nice to him. He joined Lance at the table.

“Hey, Lance.”

“Hey.” Lance said, more awkwardly than he’d intended. He saw Keith had taken the same little pink fruit slice. “What do you think this is?” Lance asked.

Keith didn't seem to mind the random subject. He picked up his own fruit slice to scrutinize it. It almost looked like a tangerine piece, except pink like the blossoms of a cherry tree, with tiny black seeds scattered throughout.

Keith shrugged. “Looks alright.”

They each took a bite at the same time, the sugary citrus taste bursting onto their tongues. It was a lot better than food goo, and they both finished their fruit in seconds.

The crowd seemed to have shifted, because next thing Lance knew, Pidge and her science friends were gone and Hunk was seated next to him instead. They made a game of trying to guess what food belonged to which planet that was being represented here.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance turned to his fellow armour-clad friend—not what he would have liked to wear to a party, but it was the closest thing to formal wear they had. “Where do you think this one comes from?” He held up a tiny cake for Keith to inspect. Keith had grown distant in a matter of minutes, and was now slumped in his chair with his arms crossed. He looked up at Lance's question. “Huh? Oh, uh…I dunno.”

“You don’t even want to take a guess? Come on, mullet, lighten up, it’s a party.”

Keith's eyes widened, and he paled. He jumped from his seat. “I-I gotta go.”

Lance watched him practically run out of the dining room. He frowned. Before he could think about it more, Coran was calling everyone’s attention for a toast.

After too many minutes of Coran regaling everyone about the good old days and how glad he was that they could converge in peace and comradery on this holiday Lance still couldn’t pronounce the name of, Keith still hadn't returned.

“I'm gonna go look for him,” Lance murmured to Hunk before excusing himself from the table. He checked everywhere, power-walking around the castle like a man on a mission, but he didn't find Keith. The last place to look was Keith's room. Lance knocked on the door. Something shuffled inside.

“Keith?” he called. “Buddy, you in there?”

“Go away, Lance.”

“What’s wrong? You totally just bailed on me—I mean, us. Me and Hunk.”

“Nothing is wrong. Leave me alone.”

“Obviously something’s not right. Are you going to tell me, or do I need to come in there?”

No answer.

Lance pressed the panel that opened the door and it whooshed open. He stepped inside. The lights were on, but they were dimmed. Keith sat on his bed, hunched against the wall, knees pulled to his chest. “Get out,” he snapped. Lance met his eyes, and there was a strange expression painted there. Fear?

“Hey, man,” Lance said gently. “What’s up? You can tell me.” He made the bold decision to sit on the edge of Keith's bed.

“I'm fine,” Keith bit. “Leave me alo—” he was cut off by a loud rumbling noise.

“Was…” Lance chuckled, “was that your stomach?”

Keith looked absolutely horrified. “No,” he lied.

“Dude, relax, it isn’t a big deal—”

“I can't relax, Lance, my stomach is trying to kill me!” Keith curled in on himself further, hiding his face in his knees.

Lance sighed. “You really don’t feel well, huh, buddy?”

Keith shook his head.

“Do you think it was something you ate?”

“All I had was that little fruit.”

“Hm. I’ll ask Coran about it.” Lance stood to leave, but Keith caught his arm.

“No, don’t bother Coran. I’ll be fine.”

“Keith, we’re dealing with alien food. What if you're allergic? What if it was poisoned or something?”

“Y-you think it was poisoned?” Keith asked worriedly.

“No, I don’t, I'm just making a point. Let me go talk to Coran.” Lance left before Keith could protest.

It didn't take long to find Coran. He was entertaining a large circle of people with what Lance could only describe as a strange interpretive dance. He tapped the older Altean on the shoulder, “Could I borrow you for a sec?”

“Absolutely my boy!”

Lance pulled him away to talk privately. “So, um, about the food—”

“Oh, yes! Isn’t it wonderful!”

“It’s great Coran,” Lance agreed, “but do you know those little pink fruit slices?”

“Of course! The Yeuranian plum! A delicacy!”

“Right,” Lance continued, “well, I think Keith is kind of having an adverse reaction to it. Like, he’s got a really bad stomach ache.”

“Hm,” Coran twirled a finger through his moustache. “I wonder…those plums contain compounds that are not easily digested by some species. Perhaps Keith's galran heritage hasn’t given him the proper enzymes to digest it properly.”

“Will he be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Coran assured. “Uncomfortable, no doubt, but no lasting damage.”

“Thank you, Coran.”

Lance opened Keith's door for the second time that night to find Keith hadn't moved an inch. “Hey, buddy,” he said softly. “Listen, I talked to Coran, and he said you’ll be fine. Just something about you not having enzymes, or alien indigestion or something, I don’t know. I got you some water and a couple extra blankets, if that would make you feel more comfortable?”

Keith grunted in response.

“Here,” Lance said. He handed Keith the water pouch he'd snagged from the kitchen and then stood up and opened the closet. He pulled out a set of pyjamas, though he'd never seen Keith wear them he'd known they were there, all the paladins had them.

“Change into these,” Lance told him. He gave Keith the fuzzy red fabric. “You'll be comfier than sitting here with your armor on.”

Keith whined. He really didn't want to move. Lance sighed, and pulled him to his feet, much to Keith's dismay, though he stood patiently while Lance helped him take off the armor. They got Keith changed, and Lance helped Keith lower himself back onto the bed. As he made Keith lie down, Lance's hand brushed Keith's side and wow nobody was supposed to be that bloated after eating a tiny fruit.

“Does this feel any better?” Lance asked once Keith had had some water and was tucked neatly in bed.

Keith nodded, eyes shut and his mouth in a tight line. “You don’t have to be here. Go back to the party. I know you were having fun.”

“Well, yeah, I was, but you're way more important than that. You look and sound miserable, I'm not going to leave you here by yourself. That’s not what a friend does.”

Keith didn't say anything. His face was pale and his breathing was laboured.

“You okay?” Lance asked.

“Yeah. Just…I really don’t feel good.”

Lance's heart went out to the poor guy. They were all supposed to be having fun, and here was Keith laid up in bed.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Lance asked.

Keith shook his head. “You’ve already done way more than you had to.”

“No, I did what any decent person would do. I just want you to feel better, buddy.” Lance had a strong urge to reach out and pet Keith's hair, but he held back. “Do you want a tummy rub?” he asked instead.

Keith cracked an eye open. “What?”

“Like this,” Lance murmured. He put a hand over Keith's belly and rubbed in gentle circles. “It'll help you feel better.”

Keith mumbled a sound of agreement. “’S’nice.”

Lance didn't stop, even after all the guests were long gone from the castle, even after Keith had dozed off. He stayed until morning, when Keith’s stomach stopped being so angry and Keith felt well enough to get up. He vowed that next time they ate alien food, he'd ask someone what was in it.