Work Text:
Keith has had a lot of bad ideas in his life.
But this—standing in front of Lance’s door in the castleship at half past seven in the evening, psyching himself up for what might possibly be the most uncomfortable and humiliating encounter of his life? This has got to be his worst idea yet.
Frankly, he’s not sure how he wound up here. One second he was lying in bed in his room next door staring at the ceiling and the next he was standing in the hallway, because apparently there’s been some kind of disconnect between his brain and his body. At least that would explain why he’s still here instead of turning right back around and leaving.
The only difference this time is, usually his bad ideas are split-second impulse decisions that make sense in the moment but ultimately result in chaos, whereas he’s been ruminating on this one for days— maybe even a week. Which seems like plenty of time to talk himself out of something so utterly ridiculous and completely out of character, yet here he stands nonetheless. All he can do now is pray to the space gods that this doesn’t totally backfire on him.
On the other hand, if he’s been thinking about this one for so long without leaping into it headfirst like he normally does… maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all?
That thought is the final push he needs to throw caution to the wind and go for it before he changes his mind.
His palms are sweating as he lifts one hand and raps his knuckles against the metal one, two, three times. Almost instantly there’s some shuffling from within, and Keith’s heart rate skyrockets at the sound of approaching footsteps. No turning back now.
The door slides open and Keith immediately regrets every decision he’s ever made in his entire life, because no, this is a terrible idea.
Judging by the soft, rumpled look of his hair and the clean T-shirt hanging off his shoulders, Lance is freshly showered and looking every bit as warm and put together as he always does. His skin practically glows, a testament to the painstaking skincare routine he’s always going on about, and his eyes widen slightly at the sight of Keith but he masks his momentary surprise with a small, welcoming smile.
Other than that he looks tired from the day they’ve had, packed full of training sequences and strategy planning and team bonding exercises organized for them by Allura. It makes Keith feel bad for taking up more of Lance’s time now that they finally get to relax, but Lance’s eyes are bright and the line of his mouth softens, as if to reassure him that he doesn’t mind.
Which… really doesn’t do much to help Keith’s case. They don’t talk about it, but lately they’ve both been trying their best to be a bit more intentional about being friendly with each other, backing off with the teasing and bickering (which on its own has become much more lighthearted anyway) and engaging in actual, normal conversation. The change in their dynamic has been slow but it’s definitely there, undeniably so. There are times that Keith is pretty certain Lance considers him as a friend now rather than his rival, which is pretty much his dream come true. He never wanted to be Lance’s rival anyway.
It all makes something twist and flutter wildly in his stomach, heart jumping in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t have waited until after dinner to pull this stunt, because he thinks he might puke from the nerves.
“Keith?” The way Lance says his name, Keith thinks he must have missed it the first time. He blinks back into focus as Lance’s brow pinches with worry, gentle expression morphing into one of concern. “Buddy, you okay?”
“Fine,” Keith blurts, hardly managing to maintain eye contact without his cheeks turning into tomatoes. “Sorry, I—uh…” He trails off, swallowing and flexing his fingers at his sides. God, he’s really doing this, isn’t he? “Can I talk to you about something?”
Something strange flashes across Lance’s face, too quickly for Keith to decipher, but he steps aside and gestures Keith into the room before he can think to question it. Keith is all too aware of Lance’s eyes on him as he lets himself in, spinning around once he reaches the center of the room and crossing his arms over his chest protectively. He suddenly feels very exposed, and vulnerable to the point of discomfort.
Lance frowns, swiping a hand across the console so the door slides shut. “Seriously dude, you alright? Do you wanna sit down?”
Keith shakes his head. They’ve hardly said a word to each other, much less breached the subject Keith is looking to discuss, and his face is already burning. “I think I’d rather stand,” he forces out.
“Well, I’d rather you sit down, because you kind of look like you’re gonna pass out.” Lance’s hands come down on Keith’s shoulders and before Keith can protest, he’s being guided back toward Lance’s bed and firmly pushed down onto it. Next thing he knows, Lance is leaning into his space, hands still resting on Keith’s shoulders as he inspects his face. “Are you dying?”
“What—n-no, I’m not dying,” Keith stammers, trying to sound annoyed but really just growing more and more flustered by the second. Lance’s eyes are like pools of honey up this close, freckles more pronounced where they scatter across his cheekbones, and his hair is long enough that it’s starting to curl across his forehead and it’s just—he’s just! “I’m just—”
“So what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong!” Keith snaps, shrugging Lance’s hands away and shrinking back in a desperate attempt to put some space between them before his brain can explode. “Could you just—let me breathe, will you?”
Lance instantly backs off, stretching up to his full height and holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, okay, message received. Shutting up now.”
Keith averts his gaze as Lance shuffles around to sit beside him, taking the opportunity to compose himself and gather his racing thoughts. He knew coming in that he’d be nervous but clearly he miscalculated, and so far this is going about as well as he expected: terribly. In any case, he’s pretty much spent the past few days preparing for the worst, so he may as well charge onward and get it over with.
“Sorry for snapping,” he mumbles, shoving his hands into his lap.
“S’okay,” Lance shrugs, flopping his legs out in front of him and planting his heels on the floor. “Sorry for invading your space.”
Truth be told, Keith doesn’t actually mind Lance being in his space, but he’s not about to admit to that. He’s already struggling to find the words he needs anyway, which in hindsight he should’ve had planned before he ever stepped foot in this room. Yeah, this is officially his worst idea ever.
“Sooo,” Lance says slowly, after several moments have gone by without either of them speaking because Keith’s still scrambling. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Keith very narrowly resists the urge to fly to his feet and bolt, abandoning the mission altogether. “I—just—” He clamps his hands on his knees and swallows. “Go easy on me, okay?”
Lance blinks. His eyes flick to the side and back. “Um. Okay? With what?”
Now or never, Keith thinks. No point in dragging this out. He swallows again, digging his fingers into the fabric of his jeans. “You know how sometimes—” Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. He clears his throat and takes a deep, steadying breath, starts again. “Sometimes, the best way to get over someone is by telling them how you feel so they can turn you down?”
Lance’s eyebrows shoot up so high they might as well have disappeared into his hairline. “Huh?”
Keith’s face is a temperature that would probably give any other human to come into contact with him a third-degree burn. “Will you please just answer the question.”
“Waitwaitwait,” Lance starts, crossing his hands in a time-out motion. “Hold up. Is this—are—did you come to me for… relationship advice?”
Keith groans, burying his face in his hands. “Lance, please.”
“Sorry, I just—” An odd sort of noise comes out of Lance’s mouth, halfway between a laugh and a cough. “Uh, wow. Okay. Then to answer your question, sure. Sometimes. It depends, I guess? Why do you ask?”
Why do you ask, he says. The nerve. The audacity. Keith feels like sinking into the floor and letting the cold, empty void that is space swallow him whole. He looks up at Lance with the most deadpan expression he can muster, which is difficult when there are he’s already warring with so many different conflicting emotions that it’s giving him a stomachache.
To his credit, Lance appears to be genuinely confused, opening his mouth to no doubt question Keith’s reaction before it seems to click, and his entire demeanor changes in an instant. “Oh,” he says softly, the sudden realization and understanding in his voice making Keith’s shoulders hike toward his ears. “You… you’re actually trying to get over someone.”
“Yes,” Keith mutters, burning imaginary holes into the ground with how hard he’s staring at it. “Obviously.”
The room goes quiet for a moment after that, which is great because Keith desperately needs that extra pocket of time to brace himself for what’s about to come. Lance isn’t dumb, he has to know what this entire conversation is implying and what it’s leading up to, why Keith showed up at his door specifically to talk about it in the first place. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, although Keith considers it a miracle that Lance didn’t pick up on his feelings for him long ago.
“So,” Lance starts carefully. His voice sounds strangely dejected, like he’s about to say or do something that he really doesn’t want to say or do—like letting Keith down easy, because he doesn’t feel the same. Wonderful, now Keith has gone and made him uncomfortable, the possibility of which he never took into account because he was too busy worrying about his own feelings getting hurt. This idea is looking worse and worse and worse with every passing second. Lance hesitates, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck while Keith purposely lets his hair fall into his face and squeezes his eyes shut, preparing himself.
“So,” Lance says again.
This is it, Keith thinks. This is how I die.
“Do I get to know who? Like, for context?”
Keith stiffens. He peels one eye open, waits for a second or two because he’s still expecting some sort of punchline, then opens the other. Tilts his head just enough to peer over at Lance, who is gazing back at him with an expression of complete and utter sincerity. There’s no sign of amusement. Not even a hint of a smile. Keith stares at him. “What?”
“The person you’re trying to get over, I mean,” Lance clarifies, shifting slightly. “Do I get to know who?”
Keith has to intentionally prevent his mouth from dropping open. He narrows his eyes. “You’re kidding.”
Lance blinks at him. “I—no?”
Okay, so maybe Lance still isn’t dumb, just—infuriatingly oblivious. Keith is going to die. “Take a wild guess, Lance,” he sighs, rubbing his temples.
“Is it Hunk?” Lance guesses immediately.
Keith’s head snaps up. “What?”
Lance hums thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “Okay, that’s a no. Allura?”
“Wh—Lance, you know I’m gay.”
“…Shiro?”
“Ew, no, gross, he’s practically my brother! Honestly, Lance—”
“What!” Lance cries defensively, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry, I’m just—very confused! You guys are so close, I don’t understand why you’re not talking to him about something like this! The only reason you’d talk to me of all people instead would be because—because… wait.”
Keith can see the exact moment that it starts clicking. The frustrated crease of Lance’s brow smooths out into something more thoughtful, his hands stilling where he’s been flailing them around and his eyes narrowing, darting to the side as if he’s solving some sort of equation. It’s painfully, insufferably, maddeningly endearing and Keith literally wants to eject himself into space. “Take your time,” he says dryly, despite the fact that his cheeks are so hot he can’t even feel them anymore.
“Wait,” Lance says again, and his voice has pitched up half an octave, his entire face flushing from his ears down to his neck. “Wait a second, you—you like— me?” he squeaks.
“Oh my god, yes,” Keith groans into his hands. He feels nearly sick with mortification, the inevitable sting of rejection and embarrassment already settling deep in his gut like a nest of angry scorpions. “I like you, Lance. Now would you please, just—do us both a favor, hurry up and let me down easy so this conversation can be over, and then I can leave and we can go on with our lives and pretend like this never even happened.”
Unfortunately. Lance does not, in fact, hurry up and let him down easy so this conversation can be over and then Keith can leave and they can go on with their lives and pretend like this never even happened. Instead the room is plunged into a terrible, awkward silence, one that gives Keith all the time in the world to think about how he would rather be literally anywhere but here right now. He’s not sure what kind of expression he’d find on Lance’s face right now and frankly he doesn’t want to know, he just wants to get out. Tears begin to prick the corners of his eyes and he hates himself for them because he doesn’t want to cry, not in front of Lance, not because of Lance, it’s just a stupid crush so why is he letting himself get so unnecessarily worked up over it?
Worst. Idea. Ever.
“Hey.” Keith nearly flinches at the feeling of Lance’s hand tentatively coming down on his shoulder. “Look at me for a second.”
Keith would refuse if it weren’t for the gentleness of Lance’s voice, so much so that he’s practically drawn toward the sound of it. He hesitates, but relents and slowly turns back toward Lance, eyes still cast to the ground and hoping his bangs are enough to obscure them. That doesn’t matter anyway, not when Lance reaches out with his other hand to tilt Keith’s chin up, effectively making Keith’s breath catch in his throat.
Because he’s got this look on his face (which is much closer than Keith remembers, might he add), eyes focused and brow creased, a determined set to his jaw that Keith usually sees on the battlefield when the stakes are highest and he’s in the thick of it all, when he’s made up his mind to do something calculated or equally as reckless. To have that look directed at him makes Keith’s stomach swoop, butterflies fluttering into a maddened frenzy and his heart kicking into high gear. Lance’s hand is still on his shoulder and he doesn’t even understand why Lance is looking at him like that, dark brown eyes roaming and searching until they finally seem to settle and then—
And then Lance is leaning in and Keith is helpless to do anything but sit there, totally frozen and immobilized, as Lance kisses him.
It’s not the best kiss ever, probably because it’s hard to kiss properly when only one of the two is putting in the effort, and Keith is sitting there stiff as a board because he doesn’t know what the quiznak is happening. That doesn’t seem to deter Lance though, moving his hand to cradle Keith’s cheek and pressing into him a little more insistently but not forcibly, intentionally leaving the option for Keith to either pull away or reciprocate.
Somewhere in the middle of his flustered, frenzied haze, Keith starts to kiss back. His eyes flutter closed and the anxious knot in his chest loosens, hands hovering uncertainly over Lance’s shoulders before slowly coming down. Every single racing thought in his mind instantly dissipates, except for one: Lance. And it’s like once Lance knows he has permission to keep kissing Keith, he gets infinitely more gentle rather than the other way around.
It feels so intimate that it seems almost scandalous somehow, although that probably has more to do with Keith having never cared about someone the way that he cares about Lance. He keeps cradling Keith’s face like he’s something precious, and all Keith can seem to do is twist his fingers into Lance’s shirt and try not to physically fall apart. Never in a thousand years did he think anything like this could ever happen—he’s spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about it, wondering what it would be like to be together, thought about all the things he would do for Lance if he’d let him, and yet…
Wait.
The reality of the situation slams back into Keith at full force and he panics. He shoves Lance away and stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to back away. “What are you doing?” he blurts.
Lance is staring up at him, face flushed and eyes wide. His hands are still hovering in the air where Keith’s face had been seconds ago, and he seems to realize this because he quickly lowers them, stumbling over his words. “Well, I—I mean, I thought we were—I was. Kissing you?”
“Why would you do that!” Keith cries.
Lance’s mouth drops open, his expression morphing into something incredulous. “Wha—because I like you back, doofus!”
“No you don’t!”
“Yes I do! Why would I lie about that?”
Keith presses the heels of his palms against his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. This is too much. So much is happening at once and absolutely everything about it completely contradicts everything he had tried so hard to prepare himself for, which means he isn’t prepared in the slightest. “I don’t know! I just—I don’t understand. I thought…”
He trails off, not quite sure what he intends to say. He thought a lot of things, honestly. That his feelings for Lance were a hopeless case. That they had more or less only managed to get through their one-sided rivalry stage for Keith to develop one-sided feelings. That maybe Lance had never really stopped disliking him, had simply put his disdain aside for the sake of the team—although, that last one may have been more of Keith’s insecurities talking than anything. Their relationship really has changed over the last few months especially, and Lance had certainly been giving Keith much more attention than he was used to, but he thought that was just another Lance thing.
Lance’s voice breaks him out of his temporary reverie, sounding much softer and more hesitant than before. “What can I do that would make you believe me?”
Keith lowers his arms as he looks over at Lance. He could tell from Lance’s voice alone, but there’s no trace of sarcasm or teasing in his expression, and Keith swallows. “You’re really not messing with me?”
Lance shakes his head, slowly in a way that’s deliberate rather than unsure. Keith feels a bit light-headed. He’s sure he doesn’t look any less confused, because after a moment Lance laughs to himself, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve kind of liked you for a long time, actually. But I wasn’t really planning to act on my feelings because I was so sure you could never feel the same way.”
“Oh,” Keith says softly. “That’s… exactly what I thought, too.”
“Until now, apparently.” Lance says it more like a question, glancing up at Keith and tilting his head slightly.
Keith feels his face flush and intentionally lets his hair fall into his eyes to hide it. “Like I said earlier, I was kind of trying to get over you,” he mumbles.
Lance hums thoughtfully. “What about now? Having any second thoughts?”
Keith snorts as Lance slides to the floor and comes to meet him in the middle of the room, keeping a respectable distance between them. “Maybe.”
Lance seems to hesitate at first, but then that same determination as earlier overtakes his expression and he tentatively reaches out for Keith’s hand, like he’s afraid Keith will slap him away. Keith doesn’t though, swallowing as Lance curls his fingers around his, cheeks tinted pink but looking very sure of himself otherwise. “I mean, I know we’re in the middle of an intergalactic space war and all, but.” He smiles in a way that’s uncharacteristically shy, and it makes Keith a little weak in the knees. “I’m willing to give us a try, if you are.”
“Considering that I originally expected this conversation to go in the complete opposite direction?” Keith can’t help but return a small smile of his own, heart pounding as if he’s getting ready to confess all over again. “Yeah, I think I’m willing to give us a shot.”
“Cool,” Lance murmurs, squeezing Keith’s hand a little tighter. Keith squeezes back.
He doesn’t exactly remember when they got closer, but it’s hard to ignore when Lance gently places his other hand on Keith’s hip, and Keith is practically staring directly at Lance’s mouth, and what were they just talking about again? His hand settles on Lance’s shoulder, and his eyes are fluttering closed, and he swears he can feel Lance’s breath on his lips when suddenly there is an abrupt, very loud thud against the door that sends them leaping apart.
Keith is already about a second away from panicking and reverting back to his theory that this was all some elaborate prank when he realizes that Lance looks just as startled as he does. “What—”
Lance quickly shushes him, pressing a finger to his own lips and narrowing his eyes. He steps past Keith and quietly approaches the door, followed close behind when Keith’s curiosity gets the better of him. Lance goes still for a moment as he listens for any more movement outside, but when nothing happens, he swipes his hand over the console.
The door slides open and the entire team tumbles into the room at their feet, limbs flailing as they wind up in one big groaning pile on the floor. The entire. Team. As in Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and even Coran. As in, who knows how long they’ve been sitting just outside eavesdropping, and who knows just how much they heard. Lance and Keith blink down at them. The team blinks back.
“Scatter!” Shiro shouts, and in perfect Voltron fashion, they all scramble to their feet and bolt down the hallway in the exact same direction, screeching and hollering like utter maniacs.
The only reason Keith doesn’t take off after them to give them a piece of his mind is because Lance grabs his arm before he can do so, laughing brightly and tugging him back into the safety of his room. “Let them go, babe. This just means more time for us, anyway.”
Keith groans, face burning with embarrassment as he hears one last whoop from Shiro in the distance, paired with a loud whistle from Pidge. “We’re calling each other pet names already?”
“Oh, not your thing? I can stop.”
“I didn’t say that,” Keith grumbles.
A slow grin spreads across Lance’s face in a way he just knows means trouble. “Good to know, sweetheart.”
“Don’t push it.”
“My apologies, darling.” Keith punches Lance in the arm in an attempt to distract himself from how hard he’s blushing. It doesn’t work, especially when Lance just bursts into laughter and grabs at Keith’s outstretched wrist to keep himself from stumbling back a step or two. “Okay, okay! We’ll work up to it.”
Keith sighs, but the feigned irritation in it falls flat as Lance twists their fingers together. “Don’t make me regret confessing to you.”
Lance simply chuckles and pulls Keith closer to him, shutting the door behind them. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”