Every World, Every Reality - firedragonworks (firedragon32) (2024)

Chapter 1: What's Up, Danger?

Chapter Text

All right, let's do this one last time.

My name is Takashi Blaytz Kattan. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the last ten years, I've been the one and only Spider-Man.

I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

I saved a bunch of people, fell in love, saved the city again, and again…and again…

Look, I'm a comic book, I'm a cereal, and I have an awesome theme song!

And a so-so popsicle.

I mean, I've looked worse.

But at the end of the day, I still love being Spider-Man. I mean, who wouldn't?

So no matter how many hits I take, I always find a way to come back. Because the only thing standing between this city and oblivion…is me.

There's only one Spider-Man…and you're looking at him.

“Lance! Time to go!”

Lance shoved his notebooks in his bag, shoving his feet into his shoes and running for the bedroom door. He snagged the straps of his already-packed duffel bag on his way out, swinging it onto his shoulder as he left the room.

Veronica and her girlfriend, Axca, were waiting by the door as Lance came stomping down the stairs. Axca wore a neutral expression as always, but Veronica was her usual impatient self, pacing the hallway with a scowl. When Lance appeared at the top of the stairs, she whirled on him and began to berate him in Spanish.

“You take so long to get ready, and then you make Axca and I wait!”

“Sorry, Ronnie,” Lance said, cutting through his sister’s tirade. “I slept in.”

“Let’s just go, V,” Axca said, touching her girlfriend’s wrist. Veronica sighed.

“Fine.”

The three turned to go, but before they could leave a voice called out to them. Lance and Veronica’s father, Julian McClain, stepped around the corner, already wearing his police officer uniform.

“Axca, you coming for dinner tonight?”

Axca nodded once. “If that’s all right.”

Julian smiled warmly, patting her shoulder. “You’re always welcome in this house,” he reminded her. “We love having you here.”

Axca’s lips quirked upward at the corners, the closest Lance had ever seen to a smile from her.

“Daaaaaaad,” Veronica moaned, slumping against the wall. “We have to go! Axe and I are going to be late for work!”

Julian chuckled. “All right, I’ll let you kids go, then. Have fun at work, you two!” He elbowed Lance. “And you have a good time at school, okay?”

Lance playfully elbowed his father back. “It’s school. How fun could it be?”

Julian’s booming laugh followed Lance out the door.

Lance inhaled deeply as he walked to Veronica’s car. The air was cold and crisp, and the sun was just beginning to crest the buildings in the distance.

He sat in the backseat, and Axca took shotgun while Veronica drove. The buildings blurred by, Lance resting his forehead on the window. He hadn’t entirely been kidding about what he’s said about school earlier. He had been going to a public school in Brooklyn his whole life, but he’d aced his exams last year and so his teachers had recommended him to a private school. Lance’s family had no way to pay for such an expensive school, but Lance’s success in his old school caught the attention of scholarships. So now Lance was going to Brooklyn Visions Academy, with several hundred other brilliant minds. He had to stay in a dorm, though he could come home and visit every other week.

Lance was not a fan of that. If he’d gotten the chance to stay in a dormitory at his old school, with all his friends, he would have jumped at the idea. But since he didn’t know anyone at this new school, Lance was more reluctant.

Hell, he didn’t even know his roommate’s name. It started with an R… Ronald or Roy or something like that. They didn’t see each other very often; his roommate was always out partying with his friends, and Lance usually stuck to the library. It was awfully lonely, for someone like Lance, who thrives on social interaction.

He’d managed to score a room on the top floor, though; that meant he had roof access. It was something, he supposed. When he got too lonely, Lance could go up and stargaze. Maybe someone else was out there, watching him watch the sky. Maybe there were aliens, or giant space cats for all he knew.

Veronica and Axca were chatting in the front seat, the former as flamboyant and extra as Lance himself, and the latter much more reserved. Axca didn’t say much, and was eerily silent on her feet, but she was one of Lance’s favorite people. Lance’s parents had all but adopted her even before she began to date Veronica, and at this point they probably saw her as yet another daughter.

The girls dropped Lance off at the front steps, but before Veronica drove away Axca stuck her head out the window, turning down the music so she could speak.

“I found a really good place for tonight,” she said. “I’ll take you there after my shift?”

Lance beamed. “I’ll be waiting!”

Axca’s lips ticked upward in another rare smile, and Veronica waved.

“Bye, Lance!” The car screeched away from the curb, the music fading away as the car disappeared into the New York City traffic.

Lance sighed, shouldering his duffel bag and turning to face the school. The sleek, modern building looked more like super-spy headquarters or a research center than a high school. Lance joined the stream of students, easily weaving through the crowd with his tall, lanky frame.

The problem with attending a prestigious academy for brilliant students was…the fact that it was a prestigious academy for brilliant students. Classes weren’t just difficult, they were rigorous. The teachers were strict, and the late work policies even stricter. The only upsides were the food, and Lance’s science teacher, Mr. C. He was Lance’s one and only friend in the entire school, and compared to the other teachers, Mr. C was easy going and relaxed, if a little odd.

It was a relief when Lance slumped through the door of the science classroom after a long, hard day of rigorous classes. He was a few minutes late; his previous class was all the way across campus, and so Lance usually had to run to make it on time. Today, the security guard, Mr. Kolivan, had been out and about, so Lance hadn’t dared try to run.

A video was playing on the screen at the front of the classroom, a tall, thin woman with long white hair. She was chattering on about quantum physics and alternate realities and all kinds of other mumbo jumbo.

Lance crept between the desks, trying to be discreet as he made his way to his seat. It didn’t work; Mr. C had eyes on the back of his head, and seemed to have a sixth sense for anything happening that was out of the ordinary.

The video paused. Mr. C stood at his desk, frowning disapprovingly at Lance, twirling his bright orange mustache. He tapped the remote on his arm as an eyebrow inched up his face.

“Lance m'boy, movin’ in the dark. You’re late again.”

Lance straightened, shuffling the armload of books in his hand and shooting his best, megawatt smile. “Well, Einstein said time was relative. Maybe…you guys are early.”

Silence. Everyone in the room was staring blankly.

Then a soft chuckle. A boy turned his head, gaze flitting to Lance. In the darkness of the room, his shoulder-length black hair was dark as ink.

“Sorry, it was just… so quiet.”

Mr. C just raised an eyebrow. “Are you gonna keep standing there? Or are you gonna sit down?”

Lance awkwardly shuffled to his seat as Mr. C resumed the video.

The boy who had laughed was sitting in the desk directly next to Lance’s; he tried to discreetly shuffle a little closer. The boy turned his head, and Lance whipped his head toward the front of the room. After a moment, he glanced at the boy again and found that he was still looking at Lance.

He wore glasses, and his hair was loose around his shoulders. He was also ridiculously attractive.

The boy turned his head back to the front, slightly leaning toward Lance and murmuring from the side of his mouth, “I liked your joke.”

Lance blinked in surprise. “Wait, really?”

The boy shrugged. “I mean, it wasn’t funny, but it was smart.”

Lance processed this information. He leaned forward a little more. “Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before…”

But before the boy could reply, Mr. C stepped between their desks, tapping on Lance’s with a finger.

Grudgingly, Lance returned his attention to the presentation, sneaking a final glance at the other boy. Even in the dark, the guy was cute; Lance idly wondered if he could get his number later.

“Whoa.”

Lance’s voice echoed through the cavern, the sound rippling outward until it diminished to nothing.

“Cool, right?” Axca stood beside him, a tattered backpack slung over one shoulder. It was covered in splatters of paint, held together by duct tape and safety pins. Lance and Axca had made it together years ago for these little outings of theirs.

Veronica poked around by the wall where they would be working. She hummed in approval and stepped back.

“Looks perfect, Axe! How’d you find this place, anyway?”

Axca shrugged, slinging the backpack from her shoulder and setting it on the ground. “Remember when I did an engineering job? Took me down here, and I found this spot. I blocked it off so nobody else could find it before we got to it.”

Lance grinned. “Awesome.” Axca was struggling financially, and so she took on any job she could get. Lance’s parents helped out as much as they could, since Axca was practically part of the family, but there was only so much they could do for her.

Veronica stepped back, framing the clear section of wall with her fingers, as if taking measurements. “This is going to be epic,” she gushed, turning back to the other two.

Lance rifled through the backpack, withdrawing two cans of spray paint. “Let's get to it, then.”

Axca started the music, and the three went to work. It was their thing, going out and getting some art up on the walls. Axca had been doing it her whole life, and when she became friends with Veronica and Lance, she’d started taking them both out to make art. Julian McClain didn’t know about it; technically, it was illegal, though the police of New York had bigger problems than a bunch of teenagers with cans of spray paint. Even so, it was best that Lance’s father never found out about this. They’d be grounded for weeks.

Bit by bit, the three’s artwork spread across the clean wall, in a medley of blues and reds and violets and oranges. Each individual section had its own style and personality, but the three knew each other so well and had done this together so many times that the piece as a whole fit together like a puzzle. Mismatched pieces jumbled together into something beautiful.

Hours later, Axca stepped back, nodding in satisfaction. Her skin was dotted with colorful specks, with smears of color on her face where she had wiped sweat away and spread the paint more.

Veronica and Lance followed, both also speckled with paint. Lance was exhausted, but in a good way, the kind of exhaustion that followed after a job well done.

Their artwork stretched above their heads and to either side, a myriad of color and lines and abstract shapes. Axca’s section was sharp, jagged, geometric shapes, but Veronica’s was all smooth curves and flowing lines. Lance’s was a blend of both styles; jagged spikes leading into curling waves, and large bubbly circles shifting to geometric triangles.

“That’s awesome,” Veronica murmured, leaning back to sit on a crate.

Axca reached into the old tattered bag again, withdrawing some takeout. Lance and Veronica claimed their food, and the three dug in.

“So, what’s going on with school?” Veronica asked once she swallowed her first bite.

Lance shrugged. “It’s all right,” he said. “My teachers are pretty good, and I’m getting high grades.”

Veronica lightly slapped his arm. “Oh, come on! There’s gotta be more than that!”

“Smart girls are where it’s at,” Axca said from Lance’s other side. Veronica turned red, spluttering and turning away.

“Well…there is someone,” Lance said, reconsidering. “There’s a new boy, kinda into me. You know how that is.”

“Oh?” Axca raised an eyebrow. “What’s his name?”

Lance froze. “Uh, well, um, we’re-we’re laying the groundwork right now,” he stammered.

Veronica laughed, and Axca also looked amused. She set her food aside and turned to face Lance fully. “Have you ever heard of the shoulder touch?”

Lance shook his head; Veronica flushed red again and began to gather their things, flustered.

“Tomorrow, go find that boy,” Axca explained. “Walk up to him, and…” She rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder and fixed him with a smolder. “Hey.” Her voice was lower, huskier.

Lance blinked. “That…that’s it?”

“It’s science,” Axca said, turning back to her food. “Works every time.”

Veronica huffed. “Not every time,” she grumbled.

Axca raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Veronica huffed again, returning to her food; her cheeks were dusted with pink.

“Wait, Axca hit on you?” Lance’s voice was incredulous. “I always thought it was the other way around!”

“Nope,” Axca said, popping the ‘p’ and sounding much more smug than usual.

“Jerk,” Veronica mumbled, throwing her backpack over her shoulder. “I don’t know why I date you.”

“Because you love me,” Axca rebuked, putting on her own backpack.

Lance followed suit, rising to his feet. As the girls began to make their way back, Lance paused and pulled out his cell phone. He snapped a picture of their painting, feeling a tingle of pride run down his spine. He always loved seeing what he and his sisters, both blood and not, could create together.

Then he froze. An enormous spider crept onto the back of his hand. Before Lance could shake it off, the beastly thing sank its fangs into his skin. It stung sharply, but Lance flicked the spider off his hand, shaking it out with an annoyed huff.

Stupid thing.

Come on, Lance, keep it cool. The cute boy from physics was standing right there. How did he manage to make the school uniform look so good? It looked like he wasn’t even trying, which was just unfair. Lance tried so hard to look presentable, but now he just looked like a dweeb. His pants must have shrunk in the wash, because they were several inches above his ankles.

I look like an idiot.

At least the boy thought Lance was smart. He had that going for him, at least. Lance was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he was getting close until he bumped into the new boy, knocking his stack of textbooks from his arms.

sh*t. He could almost hear Axca’s deadpan, Nice work, Lance.

“Man, I’m so sorry!” He dropped to the ground to help the boy gather his things. Lance’s cheeks burned in embarrassment; just when he thought he might have a chance with the guy, he had to go make a fool of himself. As usual.

“Thanks,” the boy murmured as he stood again, his books safely secured in his backpack. His eyes widened a bit when he realized who it was. “Hey, you’re the guy from physics!”

Lance felt warmth dusting his cheeks, but he played it off. “I never got a chance to introduce myself,” he said smoothly. “The name’s Lance.”

The boy shifted the strap of his backpack. “Um, Akira,” he responded.

Lance blinked in surprise. “Wait, your name is Akira?”

Akira nodded. “Yep. My…parents were kind of weird that way.”

Lance noticed the past tense, but he didn’t bring it up; that was hardly the appropriate topic for their first real conversation.

“Are…you okay?” Akira was peering at him from beneath those inky black bangs, brow furrowed in concern. Dios mio, he had violet eyes. Violet. Eyes.

“Uh, yeah?” His pulse was racing and it felt like electricity was zapping down his spine, but that was normal, right?

Do the shoulder touch now, before he walks away! sh*t, he should have asked Axca for a tutorial before leaving last night.

Lance raised a hand, feeling as if it was in slow motion. He clapped a hand on Akira’s shoulder and tried for a suave smolder.

“Hey.”

Akira blinked in confusion, glancing at Lance’s hand where it rested on his shoulder. “O…kay, then…” He seemed to shake himself. “Listen, I’d better get to class…”

Feeling mortification swirl in his gut, Lance swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Um, see you around, I guess.”

“See you.” Akira turned to walk away, but he jerked to a stop. “Hey-”

Oh. sh*t. The weird sticky thing was happening again! In front of everyone! sh*tsh*tsh*tsh*tsh*tsh*tsh*tsh*tsh*t!

“Can you let go, please?” Akira’s black hair was now tangled in Lance’s fingers. No matter how hard Lance tried, he couldn’t untangle them. And his hair was so soft…focus, McClain!

“I-I can’t let go!” Lance cried, feeling the first stirrings of real panic. Dios, would he be stuck to his hair forever?

“Ow, ow, ow, just-calm down!” Akira yelped as his hair was yanked around. He gripped Lance’s wrists. “Lance, just relax!”

“I think I have a plan!” Lance cried, still fruitlessly struggling to untangle his fingers.

“Great!”

“I’m going to pull as hard as I can!”

“That’s a terrible plan!”

Lance began to count to three, but before he could finish, Akira grabbed his arms and flipped Lance over his shoulder. Lance couldn’t help his shriek.

In the nurse’s office, Lance winced at every sound from the razor. They were cutting Akira’s hair to free his fingers.

When they were finished, Lance pulled his hand away; it was coated in thick clumps of dark hair.

“Uh…nice to meet you?”

Akira was glowering into a mirror, peering at the four finger-shaped trenches in his hair. His voice was sarcastic and more than a little cold.

“Sure. Total pleasure.”

Blaytz grunted as he was slammed into the wall. He picked himself up, shrugging off the pain before shooting into the air. “Sendak, I really don’t think opening a black hole over Brooklyn is a good idea!”

“It’s not up to me,” Sendak rumbled, coming after him. He was ugly as they came, and a constant thorn in Blaytz’s side.

“Well, go talk to your boss about it. I’m sure the CEO of Evil Industries would be perfectly happy to suck the whole city into oblivion!” God, he was so tired. Couldn’t there just be one week-one week-where some wannabe supervillain didn’t try to destroy the whole city?

Well, Rayden’s always telling me I need to take a break. Maybe he’s right.

Blaytz made a mental note to talk to his husband about vacation destinations. Surely the city would be fine without him for a few days, right?

He webbed Sendak’s face, temporarily blinding him. The giant mutant lizard snarled, ripping the gauzy nets of web from his eyes with an angry hiss.

The two battled back and forth, Blaytz swinging through the large room and avoiding the heavy chunks of concrete and metal railings that Sendak threw at him. They burst through the wall into an enormous white chamber with a small machine in the very center.

The supercollider. The machine that had the potential to completely destroy the entire city…in all realities.

Blaytz really needed a pay raise. Maybe Ray could pull some strings to make it happen…he was a miracle worker that way.

Sendak snarled and leaped back to avoid Blaytz’s next hit; the superhero was about to follow up when a tingle ran down his spine.

He was already moving, swinging down to where someone was falling into the depths of the supercollider. Blaytz scooped the guy up and swung to safely deposit him in the rafters.

He was just a kid, no older than seventeen. He wore an army jacket and a blue shirt; the poor guy was still shaking from his near-death experience.

Blaytz crouched there, catching his breath; he could hear Sendak moving around beyond, looking to see where Spider-Man had gone, but Blaytz knew he wouldn’t be able to find them for a few minutes.

He glanced at the kid, noticing his shoes. “You know…your shoes are untied,” he said in between gasps for air.

The kid nodded, looking shell-shocked.

Blaytz gestured to himself. “This is a onesie, so I don’t really have to worry about it. My husband didn’t want me to get shoes on this because I can’t tie my shoes.”

Then Blaytz’s spider-senses went crazy. He winced, trying to ignore the insistent tingles that trickled down his spine. When they finally stopped, Blaytz regarded the boy in a new light. He leaned forward.

“You’re…you’re like me,” he breathed. How was this possible? Just how many freaky radioactive spiders were there?

The kid swallowed, shaking his head. “I…I don’t want to be,” he whispered.

Blaytz’s heart clenched. He remembered how scared he had been ten years ago, just a kid in high school with strange new powers that nobody could explain. If he hadn’t had Rayden to confide in, Blaytz was certain he would have lost his mind. This poor kid looked just as confused and afraid as Blaytz had felt then.

“I don’t think you have a choice, kiddo,” Blaytz replied softly. “Trust me, I felt the same way ten years ago.”

The boy blinked in surprise. “Y-You did?”

Blaytz nodded. “Yeah. You’ve got a lot going on in your head, I’m sure.”

The kid nodded back; Blaytz didn’t miss the fact that his hands were trembling.

He raised a placating hand, trying his best to keep the kid calm. Blaytz knew better than anyone that the powers, the extra senses, everything got worse when he panicked. “You’re gonna be fine; I’ll help you. Stick around a bit, and I can show you the ropes?”

The kid nodded, looking like an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Y-Yeah.”

“I just gotta go finish what I was doing real quick,” Blaytz said, stepping away toward the edge. “Gotta keep the whole space-time continuum from collapsing and ending the world as we know it.” A typical workday for him.

Blaytz stepped up to the edge before pausing and glancing back. The kid was watching with wide eyes; he was still sitting against the railing where Blaytz had left him.

Blaytz saluted with two fingers. “See you in a bit.”

And he jumped.

Lance crept through the rubble, ears straining for any sound. He almost couldn’t process what had just happened; the explosion, the machine collapsing. Spider-Man falling, after taking the brunt of the explosion.

Was he even still alive? Or was New York’s superhero nothing but a smudge of grease?

Then Lance caught a glimpse of blue and orange. He ran to where Spider-Man lay, propped up against a pile of crushed concrete.

“Spider-Man!” He cried, trying to keep his voice down so the villains wouldn’t find him. “A-Are you okay?”

Spider-Man exhaled shakily, flapping a hand. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine. Just…catching my breath.”

Lance knew as well as Spider-Man did that he wasn’t fine. He had to have broken several bones, not to mention internal damage.

What should he do? Should he call the hospital? Sendak was dead, but the Prowler was still out there! Should Lance try and call? Would he even get cell service here?

One thing at a time. Try and assess the damage.

“Can you get up?” Lance’s voice sounded much calmer than he felt.

Spider-Man huffed out a breath, and Lance thought he might be smiling. “Yeah, I…I always get up,” he murmured ruefully.

He shuddered, an awful, hacking cough rising from his throat.

“The coughing’s probably not a good sign,” he rasped, settling back when it was finished.

Voices came from above; Zarkon’s henchmen were getting closer.

Spider-Man’s hand closed over Lance’s wrist, and he leaned in, his voice urgent.

“Listen, we gotta team up here. We don’t have much time.” His other hand lifted, holding a strange metal key, like a flash drive. “This…this is the override key. It’s the only way to stop the collider. You need to swing up there, use this key, push the button, and blow it up.”

He shuddered, taking in a shallow breath. God, it hurt so much. He felt horrible, leaving all this mess for a kid who had no idea what he was doing.

“You need to hide your face,” Blaytz continued urgently. “Don’t tell anyone who you are. He’s got everyone in his pocket.”

The poor kid tried to interrupt, looking so lost and confused and afraid, but Blaytz pushed on. “If he turns that machine on again, everything will be gone. Everything. You need to promise me you’ll stop it.”

The boy nodded shakily, swallowing. “I-I promise.”

Blaytz settled back, pushing the key into the kid’s hands. “Go. Destroy the collider. Find Rayden Kattan. He’ll help you; you can trust him, okay?”

Rayden would very likely be this kid’s only ally. Blaytz knew his husband would be devastated… but he also knew that Ray would help this kid finish what Blaytz had started.

I’m sorry, Ray. They’d been supposed to go on a date tonight; Rayden had been so excited , so insistent that Blaytz would love it. God, I’m so sorry.

The boy backed away, clutching the key, staring at Blaytz. Behind him, the shadows moved as Zarkon’s men combed the rubble for Spider-Man.

Blaytz waved a hand. “Go! Don’t worry about me! I’ll be fine. Remember to find Ray, okay? Tell him…tell him I’m sorry.” His voice softened with the last few words, choked with tears.

The boy nodded again, disappearing behind a pile of rubble.

Blaytz closed his eyes, letting out his breath, wincing at the pain in his body. Broken ribs for sure.

“Well, well, well.” Zarkon’s crooning voice prompted Blaytz to peel his eyes open.

The man himself stood before him, monstrous in his height and width. Seriously, what did this guy eat?

The Prowler stood off to one side, her long blades unsheathed and at her sides. Through the mask, her dark eyes narrowed at Blaytz.

“Hey, Zarkon,” Blaytz croaked, using every bit of energy to stay awake. He couldn’t give up. Not now. Not when the kid was likely still watching. “How’s business?”

Zarkon’s lips cracked in a gruesome smile. “Much better now that you are out of the picture,” he said gleefully. He reached forward, slipping the mask from Blaytz’s face.

“Ah, that’s a no-no,” Blaytz muttered as his face was revealed. He probably looked like total sh*t-not that it would matter in a few minutes. Blaytz’s vision blurred, and he had to concentrate hard for Zarkon’s ugly mug to come back into focus again. It hurt to concentrate. Hell, it hurt to breathe.

“This…might open a black hole… under Brooklyn,” Blaytz gasped; he had to try and convince Zarkon. Fighting and escape were both out of the picture; his body was slowly shutting down as he lay there. “It can’t be worth the risk.”

Zarkon’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not always about the money, Spider-Man,” he hissed.

Prowler stepped forward, her long curved sword grazing the ground in a flurry of sparks as she approached.

Zarkon held up a hand. “Wait,” he rumbled. “I want to do this myself.”

Fear shivered down Blaytz’s spine, his spider-senses trying to warn him of the coming danger. Not that he could do anything about it.

Zarkon picked up a huge chunk of concrete, lifting it above his head, his muscles rippling with power.

Blaytz hoped the kid was long gone; he hoped he wasn’t there to see what was next.

Sorry I couldn’t make it to our date, Rayden. I hope you’ll forgive me.

The boulder dropped.

Agony blazed through Blaytz’s body, tearing through his ruined muscles, his crushed bones.

And then there was nothing.

And then everything was okay.

Lance’s room was dark. He curled on the mattress, clutching his phone in his hand until his knuckles turned white. He had been in the safety of the school campus for nearly half an hour, but his heart was still pounding. Any moment, he expected the Prowler to appear with her purple suit, her flowing violet cape. Her long curved swords, gleaming in the light as they swung in a deadly arc.

He was certain he had never been more terrified.

He’d seen some things that night that he would never forget. Spider-Man had died right before his eyes. He should have run. He should have been long gone; Spider-Man had been buying him time to escape, he knew that.

But something had frozen him in place. He’d stood there as Zarkon dropped a section of concrete on his hero, his idol. He’d watched the blood pool from underneath the boulder. Lance likely would have stayed there for the rest of time if the Prowler hadn’t noticed him.

She’d chased him through the subway systems, and he’d only barely escaped with his life.

Now he sat in the darkness of his dorm room, trying to take control of his breathing. What should he do? Spider-Man had given him a job, had trusted him to follow through. Lance couldn’t let him down; especially when the whole city was at stake.

His phone chimed, bringing him from his thoughts. It was a news notification; absently, Lance tapped it to bring up the live feed.

The woman onscreen looked distraught, her makeup smeared, her hair disheveled. When she spoke, her voice was tremulous.

“This is an urgent broadcast brought to you for a special report. Tragedy has struck New York City. The hero known as Spider-Man…has died from the recent earthquake.”

Another reporter appeared onscreen, with a photograph. A young man with blonde hair and a soft smile. His gray eyes pierced Lance’s through the screen; the very same gray eyes that had peered from a cracked and broken mask only an hour earlier.

“Multiple sources are confirming that Takashi "Blaytz" Kattan, a 26-year-old college student, operated as Spider-Man for more than a decade, saving what has to be thousands of lives around the world. With these seismic events on the rise, is there anyone else who is able to keep us all safe?”

Takashi Kattan. Somehow knowing his name made it all worse. It was one thing, losing Spider-Man. It was another, knowing that there had been a real person behind that mask, with a home and family and friends who were likely devastated now.

“He is survived by his husband of four years, Rayden Kattan. Funeral services are to be determined at a later date.”

The name caught Lance’s attention. Rayden Kattan. Spider-Man-Takashi-had told Lance to find someone named Rayden, and that he could trust him. But where could he be found? Where did he live? And what on Earth would Lance say to him?

Hey there, your dead husband told me to find you. Sorry about that, by the way. You don’t happen to be able to help me prevent a city-wide catastrophe, do you?

Lance flopped down, feeling something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. Takashi had saved his life. And Lance hadn’t even thanked him.

The funeral was the next day. School had been cancelled for the next three weeks; the earthquake activity was proving to be too dangerous for children to be in school. Lance had opted to remain at dorms, though most of his classmates had gone home. With his body going crazy from the new powers, he didn’t want to risk hurting a family member, or letting them find out about him.

And Lance just really wanted to be alone. To process…everything.

So he squeezed through the crowd, trying to find a place where he could see the podium. The main square was more crowded than he had ever seen it; people were practically standing on top of each other trying to cram into the space.

Everyone wore Spider-Man merch. Masks, T-shirts, bracelets, shoes; some even carried posters.

Takashi's closest friends and relations were up on the podium, sitting and waiting for their turn to speak.

In the back of Lance’s mind, he wondered if it was painful for them, seeing all those mask-clad faces, so much like the person they had lost.

The current speaker, a frail old woman, moved to sit down, and the next stood. Lance immediately knew that this was Rayden, Blaytz’s husband. He was tall and slim, and his eyes were rimmed with red behind his glasses. Despite this, as he began to speak, his voice was steady.

“My husband was an incredible person,” Rayden began. “His birth name was Takashi, but those who were fortunate enough to be his friends knew him as Blaytz.

“He was never one for the spotlight. Even after he became Spider-Man, he was always humble. He saved lives because it was the right thing to do. And nobody could do what he could.” Rayden paused, seeming to gather himself, before continuing. “Blaytz was an ordinary person. He…he always told me that it could have been anyone behind the mask. He was just the kid that happened to get bit. He didn’t ask for his powers. But he chose to become Spider-Man.”

I felt the same way ten years ago, Blaytz had said. He’d been just as frightened and confused as Lance felt, but he'd chosen to become a hero anyway.

The square was completely silent; everyone was listening intently to the man who had been Spider-Man’s closest confidante.

“One of my favorite things about Blaytz is that he made us all feel powerful,” Rayden continued. “We all have powers in one way or another. But in our own way, we are all Spider-Man. And we’re all counting on you.”

Looking like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, Rayden stepped back from the podium toward his seat.

“They’re counting on me,” Lance breathed. He had to make this right. For Blaytz. For his husband. For all the people in the city.

It was time to start training.

The graveyard was dark and cold. Snowflakes lazily drifted from the darkening sky, coming to rest on the flowers and offerings surrounding the headstones. Well, one in particular.

Takashi “Blaytz” Kattan

Hero - Husband - Friend

Forever in our debt

Lance stood in the snow, feeling the cold wetness seep into his shoes; flakes settled on his shoulders, and his gut churned with guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Kattan,” he whispered, his voice echoing dully around the empty cemetery. “That key thing you gave me? I-I broke it.” He pulled it from his pocket, seeing the crushed metal, the exposed wires that gave off the odd spark. “I…I want to do what you asked, but I don’t know if I can. I…I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

He felt awful. Spider-Man had trusted him, and Lance had let him down. He’d failed.

Then a tingle ran down his spine just before a hand closed over his shoulder. With a yelp of fright, Lance whirled, and his arms tingled sharply, like his blood was replaced with electricity.

The man shot backward, slamming into the ground and carving a trench through the snow. An invisible force dragged Lance forward, and he fell face-first into the snow with a yelp.

Lance picked himself up slowly, his hand catching on something thin and sticky. A strand of what looked like web was attached to the front of his shirt, leading to…the strange man.

Lance approached warily, ready to run away at a moment’s notice. Nobody would rob Spider-Man’s grave, right?

Right?

Kneeling beside the man, Lance pulled the side of his jacket away. He froze; underneath the coat, the man wore…Spider-Man’s suit. But it was…different. Black and purple, with soft highlights of gray.

“Who…who are you?”

All right, people, let’s do this one last time.

My name is Takashi Shirogane. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the last fifteen years, I thought I was the one and only Spider-Man.

I’m pretty sure you know the rest.

I saved the city, fell in love, got engaged, saved the city some more, maybe too much, my relationship got testy, I lost my arm, a drone flew into my face, I buried my parents, Adam and I…split up…

But I handled it like a champ!

It hurt. Every day. I had to stay strong for my little brother, but I missed Adam. I still do. I wish… I wish we could have fixed it. I wish we could have figured it out.

I’m pretty sure I broke his heart.

Fast-forward, I’m in my apartment, getting ready for another day of Spider-Manning, when this weird thing happened. I mean, weird things happen to me a lot. But this was really weird.

When it was over, I was in New York…but things were different.

Also, I was dead. And blonde. And I was married to someone who looked and sounded like Adam-my Adam.

I had a feeling that whatever brought me here…was the same thing that got him killed.

You wanna know what happens next?

Yeah. Me, too.

When Shiro opened his eyes, he was tied to a chair in what looked like a school dorm room. He struggled, trying to find a weak point in the knots, but whoever had tied him up had done an excellent job of it.

Someone cleared their throat, and Shiro stopped, looking around the room.

A boy sat across from him, wearing a cheap Spider-Man costume. He was tall and lanky, with his arms crossed over his chest. Trying to be intimidating, but failing miserably. But there was something about him…

Then the tingles came, prickling down his spine. Shiro stilled. “You’re like me,” he whispered.

“I have some questions,” the boy said, obviously trying to deepen his voice.

Shiro sighed internally; it would take him a few minutes to finesse the knots, so it looked like he would have to humor this kid until then.

The boy scooted closer. “Why do you look like Takashi Kattan?”

“Because I am Takashi,” Shiro said.

The boy began to walk around Shiro, still spouting questions. “Then why aren’t you dead? Why isn’t your hair blonde? Why are you missing an arm? Why are you older?”

Shiro tried to answer, but the kid was talking too fast.

“Are you a ghost? A zombie?”

“No,” Shiro said, finally able to get a word in.

The boy frowned, tapping his fingers together. “Are you from another dimension? Like, an alternate reality? And you were Spider-Man in that reality, and now you ended up here somehow?”

Shiro blinked, impressed. “You…just guessed that?”

The boy shrugged. “We learned about it in physics.”

“Quantum theory,” Shiro mused thoughtfully. It certainly made sense. How else could another New York, one that was so similar yet so different, exist alongside his own?

“This is perfect!” The boy exclaimed, waving his arms around animatedly. “You can teach me, just like the other Spider-Man promised he would! Before…you know.”

“Before he died,” Shiro finished softly. He felt a pang of pity for this kid. He must have only had his powers for a few days at most; Shiro couldn’t imagine having to deal with Spider-Man’s death on top of all that.

“Yeah,” the boy murmured, wrapping his arms around himself. He glanced up to meet Shiro’s eyes. “Can…can you help me?”

He reminded Shiro of Keith, then, just a little bit. The way his eyes shone with unshed tears; trying so hard to stay strong, to not break down.

Shiro’s heart clenched; he had to find a way to get home to his brother. And if he could help another lost teenager on his way there…then he would.

It was supposed to be quick and easy. In and out.

Instead, Shiro and Lance were sprinting out the doors of the laboratory, Shiro clutching the computer and Lance holding a bagel that he had snagged from one of the tables.

Security guards and scientists were following them, and Lance knew that the scary lady with robotic tentacles-Doc Ock-wouldn’t be far behind.

“Lance! Come on, we’ve gotta swing!” Shiro shoved one of his web shooters into Lance’s hand, moving the boy’s fingers to the button. “Press that to send it out, then again to release. Now come on, let’s go!”

Shiro shot off into the trees, swinging between them easily. Lance yelped and tried to follow, but the web shooter shot off course. Instead, Lance started to sprint through the trees, ducking to avoid gunfire.

“Lance! They’ll catch you!” Shiro shouted from ahead. “You gotta swing!”

“I run better than I swing!” Lance yelled back, out of breath from running.

Then there came the crack of falling trees, and Doc Ock appeared behind Lance. Her long white hair was wild, her yellow eyes gleaming with glee.

“Come back, little boy!” She cackled.

Lance shrieked and climbed a tree, scrambling from branch to branch as the supervillain closed in behind him.

“Aim with your hips!” Shiro shouted. “Look where you want it to go, and square your shoulders!”

Lance was nearing the top of the tree; he was running out of space.

“Don’t forget to follow through!” Shiro counseled. “Don’t shoot off your back foot!”

Lance closed his eyes as he reached the top of the tree…and leapt. He opened his eyes when he smoothly swung from the tree. Shiro raced by him in a blur of black and purple, and Doc Ock yelped, falling back. The older Spider-Man looped around to swing beside Lance.

“You’re doing it!” Shiro praised. “Double tap to release and thwip it out again. Thwip, release. Thwip, release!”

Lance followed through the motions, feeling the way his body swung and fell into a rhythm. “I’m doing it!”

“You’re doing amazing!” Lance could feel the pride radiating from him.

Then Shiro glitched, and he fell. Lance cried out his name as the man landed hard on a thick branch. The computer slipped from his grasp, but Lance leapt down and caught hold of the power cord.

And then the branch broke.

They fell, and the computer was snatched away. Doc Ock caught it with a triumphant grin, and Lance prepared to hit the ground.

They never did. Instead, Lance and Shiro’s fall was abruptly stopped when a net of web appeared below them.

A black-and-red blur shot past, and Doc Ock fell back with a cry.

A third Spider-Man was there, expertly avoiding the scary woman’s flailing tentacles. He flew toward her in a blur, kicking her hard in the face and catching the computer when she dropped it.

“Fall back!” Doc Ock screeched, and the pursuing scientists began to turn away. Doc Ock turned to face the three Spider-People. “This isn’t over,” she hissed, before turning and disappearing into the trees.

The new arrival landed on a tree branch above Lance and Shiro. He removed the mask, shaking long black hair from the hood.

Lance gaped. “Akira?”

Akira raised an eyebrow. “It’s Keith, actually.”

Shiro gaped at Keith. “You’re from…”

“Another another dimension,” Keith finished. He glanced at Shiro, swallowed thickly, and quickly looked away.

“I like your haircut,” Lance tried. It really did look good; Akira-Keith-had shaved it close to his scalp on the side where Lance’s fingers had gotten tangled, leaving the other side long. It suited him.

Keith glowered at him. “You don’t get to like my haircut.” He stepped off the branch and swung away. “Let’s go!”

All right, people. Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Keith Kogane. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the last two years, I’ve been the one and only Spider-Man.

You guys know the rest.

I joined a band. Saved a bunchof people.

I…couldn’t save my brother. Shiro.

So now...I just save everyone else.

And I don’t do relationships anymore. Getting close to people…someone just ends up getting hurt. It’s for the best.

But one day, this really weird thing happened. And I mean, really weird. I was blown into last week! Literally!

I landed in New York…but not my New York. My spider-sense told me to head to Visions Academy. I wasn’t sure why…

…until I met you.

It hurt. Seeing him, hearing him speak. It almost hurt as much as the day Keith had lost him.

He looked almost the same as he had in Keith’s reality. The scar, the shock of white hair, the prosthetic arm.

Every time Shiro-this Shiro-spoke, or looked at Keith and smiled, or patted Lance on the back for his quick thinking back at the research center, it was like a stab to the heart. His gray eyes were exactly as he remembered, kind and warm and supportive and so Shiro.

It was an ache that had never really gone away, losing his big brother. And now that wound had reopened with twice the fury.

The bus rumbled across the road, steadily making their way to a hopefully safe place where they could reprogram a new collider key to take down Zarkon’s machine.

And then they could all go home.

Adam was probably losing his mind with worry; Keith had been battling Doc Ock- his Doc Ock-when the collider pulled him from his own reality. The last thing Keith had heard through the comms was Adam’s panicked voice frantically calling his name before it fizzled to static. Had Doc Ock escaped? Or had Adam somehow taken him out? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Keith’s legal guardian had done that. Keith had trusted Adam to do the right thing all those times, and he trusted him to do the right thing now. He could cover the bases until Keith returned.

Shiro was asleep in the seats behind them, or pretending to be; as long as Keith didn’t have to look at him, to see the constant reminder of what he’d lost, he was perfectly fine with it.

They’d sure done a number on the old override key. Keith turned it over in his fingers, running the pad of his thumb over the cracked metal and exposed wires. He glanced sideways at Lance, who was sprawled in the seat next to him.

“He broke this?”

Lance unfurled his long limbs in a lazy stretch; his too-small Spider-Man costume rode up with his shirt, revealing a strip of smooth bronze skin. “Yep. He’s actually kinda embarrassed about it, so just keep it between us, okay?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know where we can make another one. And we won’t let him break it this time.” Even when Shiro didn’t have spider-powers, he was in no way clumsy. But Keith didn’t want to discuss his brother, his reality or not, so he let it go.

Lance curled up on the seat, debating on whether he should speak. When he did, his voice was soft and tentative. “I’m…sorry about your friend.”

Keith’s jaw clenched, but he closed his eyes and forced the tension from his body in a rush of air. His voice was just as soft. “...Thanks, Lance.” He’d told them that he’d lost a close friend. Not a brother, not the single most important person in Keith's life. Not Shiro.He wasn’t ready for them to know. He wasn’t ready for Shiro’s sorrowful gaze, Lance’s shocked silence. He swallowed, turning to face Lance before speaking again. “I…I know how hard it is, to have to figure everything out on your own,” he murmured, so he wouldn’t wake Shiro. “It’s…kind of nice, not being the only Spider-Person around.”

“I know what you mean,” Lance sighed, facing Keith. “I’ve only had my powers for a few days, but if I didn’t have you or Shiro…I’d be a mess.” He crossed his legs, folding himself into the bus seat. “You know, when I got stuck in your hair the other day…”

Keith’s lips tilted upward in a smile. “I know. Something like that happened to me on my first day with powers, too.”

Lance perked up, a smile spreading across his face almost as easily as breathing. “Oh? Do tell!”

Keith shrugged. “Not much to tell, except that I stole my principal’s pants.”

Lance let out a surprised laugh. “Really? How in hell did you manage that?”

“I was in detention for punching a kid-”

“You punched someone?” Lance interrupted, blue eyes blown wide.

“He was a prick,” Keith said. “He deserved it. Anyway, I was in detention, and I was walking past the principal when my leg touched his. Just a bump, but…it was enough.”

Lance covered his face with his hands, eyes shining with mirth. “This is awesome,” he gushed.

“I kept walking, and his pants came with me. The rest of him didn't.” Keith sat back when he was finished, enjoying how Lance seemed to enjoy his story. The other boy laughed with his whole body; his head was thrown back, and his entire body moved with the force of his laughter.

Keith liked his laugh.

“Oh, man,” Lance leaned forward, wiping his eyes. “That is the greatest thing I have ever heard. It almost beats my version!”

Keith scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest, raising his eyebrows. “The version where you ripped out all of my hair?”

Lance huffed. “Not all of it,” he pointed out. “Besides, the haircut suits you.”

Keith’s cheeks warmed, but he hid it by scoffing again. “You still don’t get to like my haircut.”

Lance sighed, sitting back against the pillows. “Well, fair enough.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Lance gazing out the window to see the scenery rushing past. The sun made his deep tan skin glow a warm golden bronze, highlighting his long lashes and clear blue eyes.

Keith tore his gaze away, staring pointedly at the seat in front of him. He was moving into dangerous territory here; he’d only known Lance for a few hours, but he was already wanting to move closer. Maybe it was Shiro’s presence; he’d always been able to make Keith open up, even when he didn’t want to. Maybe it was the fact that, for better or for worse, he and Lance were in this together.

Keith didn’t know what it was. He was terrified of getting closer, of opening up, yet…he craved it.

In the past, whenever someone tried to get him to open up, Keith pushed them away. Now, though, he could only think, what if I move closer?

Lance broke the silence. “You know…” His voice was tentative again, wary. “If you ever decide to do relationships again…maybe I could open up a slot.”

Keith’s fingers tightened around the broken collider key; his first instinct was to shut Lance down. Coldly. Brutally.

Instead, he swallowed, gathering every ounce of courage. Every bit of will that he still possessed after his brother’s death. “I’ll…I’ll keep you posted,” he replied haltingly. It wasn’t quite what he wanted to say. It probably wasn’t what Lance had wanted to hear. But it was Keith’s best.

But from the way Lance smiled at him before turning to look at the window again, the way the silence between them was comfortable and calm, Keith began to think…

Maybe his best was enough.

Rayden Kattan lived in a quiet neighborhood in Queens, lined with small houses with flowers growing in the window boxes. The two-story house was white, with a blue door. The porch was scattered with piles of gifts and cards; a Spider-Man balloon bounced cheerfully on its string, and someone had even brought a cake.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Keith’s hood was pulled over his head to ward off the night’s chill, but his face was bare. “Can we trust this guy?”

“Spider-Man-this reality’s Spider-Man-said I could trust him,” Lance said.

“I don’t like this,” Shiro murmured unhappily. “I’m not ready for this at all.”

“Just relax,” Keith said stiffly. “You’ll be fine. If one Spider-Man trusted him, that’s good enough for me.”

The door opened, and Rayden stepped out, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. “You’re all very sweet, but no more visitors for today, please-” He cut off when he saw the three people gathered on his porch. The wooden baseball bat slipped from his grip, and he took a shaky step toward Shiro.

“T-Takashi?”

“Hey,” Shiro said softly. God, he looked just like Adam. Rayden reached forward with shaking hands, brushing Shiro’s cheek. “Now, this is going to sound crazy, but I’m from-”

“An alternate dimension,” Rayden murmured, still cupping Shiro’s face.

The other couldn’t help but lean into the touch just a bit; even if this wasn’t his Adam, his touch was still just as Shiro remembered.

“You look tired, ‘Kashi,” Rayden said softly.

Shiro’s lips ticked upward at the corners. “I am tired,” he admitted softly.

Rayden lowered his hands and stepped away, looking to the other two. “You’re from other dimensions, too?”

Keith nodded, but Lance shook his head. “I’m from this one,” he said, clutching the computer a little tighter. He took a deep breath; Keith glanced at him and nodded; Lance let his breath out in a rush.

“I was there, when it happened,” Lance said. “I-I’m so sorry,” he finished in a whisper.

Rayden nodded, still looking at Lance. “I understand,” he whispered.

“He-he told me to tell you that…he was sorry. And that we could trust you to help us.”

Keith offered the broken collider key; Rayden turned it over in his fingers, studying it. He glanced up, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “Follow me.”

They followed Rayden through the house to the backyard, where an old shed stood in the back corner of the house.

“I’ve got one like this,” Shiro murmured, taking in the peeling paint and old wood. “An old shack where I keep my gear-”

Rayden pressed his hand to the door, and it lit up in the shape of a spider. He glanced back, quirking his brows at Shiro in an expression that was painfully similar to Adam’s smug look, before pressing a button. The doors slid open with a hiss, revealing an elevator.

Lance grinned as he stepped inside, and Keith let out a breath from beside him. “I need to get one of these,” the other Spider-Man whispered in awe.

The elevator moved into the depths of the earth; it was dark save for the glowing blue highlights that reflected off each person’s face.

The elevator shaft opened into a vast cavern, brightly lit and surprisingly homey. There was a cluster of sofas and beanbags on one side near a fireplace, and on the other were various tables scattered with unfinished tech and gadgets.

The elevator reached the ground, and the group stepped off.

“Whoa,” Lance breathed. He glanced at Shiro. “Was your shed like this one?”

Shiro shrugged. “Well, take away the jet, the beanbags, the fireplace, and the elevator, and you’d get what I’ve got.”

The three Spider-People fanned out, exploring the hideout. Lance stepped to a corkboard wall, where photographs of various villains and locations were pinned, connected by colored strings.

Rayden stepped up beside Lance, his eyes scanning the photographs. Zarkon, Prowler, Sendak, Doc Ock, and some others that Lance couldn’t name. He got the feeling, though, that Rayden wasn’t seeing the photos.

“Takashi knew how dangerous the job was,” he murmured, his gaze far away. “And so did I. Deep down, I knew…one day, he’d go out with his suit, and…and never come home.” Rayden inhaled shakily. “But we both knew that the only person who can stop these people is Spider-Man.”

“Zarkon knows we’re coming,” Shiro said, his voice authoritative. “He’ll be ready for us.”

“We’re going to be outnumbered,” Keith added, standing beside Lance.

Rayden chuckled then, stepping away from the wall. “Don’t be so sure.” He held out a stack of name tags. “You might need these.”

Far above their heads in the darkness of the rafters, four sets of eyes opened.

Sharp prickles ran down everyone’s spines; Lance stiffened, still unused to his Spider-Sense, and Keith whirled, readying for a fight; Shiro just stared thoughtfully into the darkness as the figures descended.

Rayden smiled, stepping back to make room for the new arrivals. “You thought you’d be the only ones who thought of coming here?”

“Greetings, fellow warriors,” the first one said. Her voice was feminine, her figure definitely so; she wore a silvery white suit with pale blue and pink highlights.

“Hi, everybody!” The second was a solidly built man with a black-and-yellow suit that contrasted sharply with the shadows he stood in.

The third Spider-Person said nothing, but they dropped to the ground with a grunt. Behind them, an enormous spider robot lowered itself to the floor; the Spider-Person was very short and slim, wearing a vibrant green suit with darker green highlights. The suit had a hood very similar to Keith’s. The spider robot was also green, with glowing pale teal highlights.

Lance’s spider-senses flared up more than ever, ratcheting his nerves and making his eyes dart from person to person. Beside him, Keith tensed up and Shiro inhaled sharply from their own spider-senses.

Then all six people spoke at once. “You’re like me.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this next section (their backstory scene) is gonna be a little weird. Allura's dialogue will be italicized, Pidge's will be bolded, and Hunk's will be underlined. When two or more of them are speaking, it will be a combination of the three. Now on with the story!!

My name is Allura Altea.

My name is Pidge Holt.

My name is Hunk Garrett.

I was bitten by a radioactive spider.

In my reality, it is 1933. I am a private eye. I raise my pet mice and battle the forces of evil for the good of the people.

I’m from New York in the year 3154. I have a psychic link with the spider that lives inside my brother’s robot, Green.

I have saved many people, but I was not able to save my father or my uncle. I regret that every day of my life.

I work at my parent’s bakery in the city. I risk my life everyday to keep my loved ones safe. It’s terrifying, but if it keeps my family from danger…then I’m willing to risk it. Even those people who...who I couldn't save...I do it for them, too.

My brother used to help me fight crime, but now…well, I manage well enough on my own. At least, I try to.

It hurts, though.

It’ll always hurt.

“All right, that’s enough!” Shiro raised his hand, and the three Spider-People cut off. “How did you get here, anyway?”

“It’s a long story,” Hunk said.

“Well, not that long,” Pidge amended.

Allura sighed, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Now we are just trying to find a way home,” she said softly.

“The only way is to go through the collider,” Pidge said, pulling off their mask. They reached into a pocket and withdrew a pair of glasses, which they perched on the end of their nose. “There’s only one problem with that.”

“One of us has to stay behind and destroy it,” Hunk finished solemnly.

“I’ll do it.” Keith, Pidge, Shiro, and Allura had all spoken at once.

Lance waved his arms. “No, you guys don’t get it!”

“Don’t get what?” Hunk asked. Then they all glitched. Screams rang out as all Spider-People except Lance fell to the ground, shuddering in pain.

When it was over, they lay on the ground in various states of disarray. Pidge and Hunk leaned up against Green, eyes scrunched shut. Shiro and Allura were shakily rising to their feet, and Keith lay curled on his side, breathing heavily. Lance gently helped him rise to his feet, and Keith leaned on him heavily, swaying slightly.

Lance cast his gaze around the room. “If you stay here, you’ll die! I’m the one who’s gonna stay. This is my dimension. There’s no reason for any of you to have to stay if I can do it!” He hesitated, glancing at Rayden. “Look, I made a promise,” he continued softly. “I have to keep it.”

Pidge, mostly recovered now, stepped forward, poking Lance in the stomach. “Doesn’t look like much,” they said. “You sure you can do it?”

“I’ve seen him in action,” Keith said, stepping away to take his own weight. He looked at Lance, and there was something soft in his eyes, in his voice, when he said, “I think he’s going to get us home.”

“Let us see,” Allura said, stepping toward him. She stepped forward and swung forward, her fist flying for Lance’s face. His spine tingled, and Lance was moving out of the way almost before he realized what was going on.

The Spiders mobbed him, though Shiro and Hunk hung back. Lance dodged beneath Keith’s kick and landed a quick hit on Pidge’s side before ducking under another punch from Allura. He had no idea what he was doing, but his spider-sense seemed to know what to do to keep him from harm. Nobody could land a hit on him.

Finally, just as Lance was beginning to tire, Keith stepped back, brushing sweaty hair from his eyes. “Told you,” he said to the others.

Allura nodded, her breath coming in pants. “Yes, you did,” she replied, out of breath. She pulled off her mask, revealing a flushed, sweaty face. Silver hair tumbled down her back in curly waves; she was breathtakingly gorgeous, but Lance didn’t pay much attention to it. Normally, he’d be all over her, but he just wasn’t into it. Keith bumped his shoulder, smiling wider than Lance had ever seen in the day he’d known him. His violet eyes sparkled with pride, excitement, and something else that Lance couldn’t name. And he suddenly understood why he wasn’t into Allura.

Rayden stepped forward, caching the Spiders’ attention. “Looks like we’ve got work to do,” he said. “Come on, I’ll make some dinner and we can get to battle planning.”

They gathered around Rayden’s kitchen table. Pidge was tinkering with the Alchemax computer, muttering under their breath as they drew up the plans for a new collider key. Their robot, Green, was curled up beneath the table, beeping happily whenever someone gave it scratches. Hunk had volunteered to help with dinner, and he and Rayden were chatting away together as the smells wafted from the kitchen. Shiro and Allura were bent over schematics for the Alchemax building, where the collider would be built in the next few days. Keith sat on the other end of the table, his expression unreadable.

Lance had noticed the way Keith had acted around Shiro. The tension in his shoulders whenever the older Spider-Man spoke, the silence when Shiro didn’t make him talk, and the terse replies when he did.

Lance slid into the chair beside Keith, resting his chin on his hand. “Hey, man.”

Keith nodded in response, some of the tension in his shoulders disappearing.

They sat in comfortable silence before Lance spoke haltingly. “Listen, uh…do you…hate Shiro?”

Keith jerked away in surprise. “Wh-What? No! What makes you think that?”

“It’s just…you get all tense whenever he speaks, and you don’t ever talk to him directly.”

Keith winced, looking away. “I…I really don’t hate him,” he said softly. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

He stood then, motioning for Lance to follow. Bewildered, Lance rose from his chair and followed behind. They left the kitchen and walked out into the hallway.

Keith stopped, leaning against a wall with a heavy sigh. “I need to tell you something,” he confessed. “I…haven’t been completely honest with you, or…anyone.”

Lance waited, leaning up against the opposite wall.

Keith tipped his head back against the wall, eyes on the ceiling. When he finally began to speak, it came in a rush.

“I told you and Shiro that my best friend died while helping me fight. That’s…not entirely true. The person I lost…he was my brother.” He paused, breathing shakily. Lance waited, blue eyes wide, as Keith gathered his thoughts.

“It was Shiro.” The words were heavy with the implications, with the grief that had never gone away. Lance sucked in a breath.

“This whole time…you were…”

“Talking to my dead brother. Yeah.” Keith swallowed thickly, feeling the press of tears. He’d only ever talked about this with Adam, on those days where they’d needed to grieve together. It was hard losing Shiro, the hardest thing Keith had ever gone through. But somehow…seeing another Shiro, one that was alive and well and so painfully similar to his…it was so much worse.

Lance moved then, pushing off from the wall and stepping toward Keith. He moved slowly, warily, as if Keith were a wild animal that he was trying not to startle. Slowly, broadcasting his movements, Lance stepped in close and wrapped his arms around Keith.

Keith stiffened at the contact; he hadn’t been hugged in so long, not even by Adam, who disliked human contact as much as Keith did.

So it was a surprise when he relaxed into the hug, his knees buckling. Lance slowly lowered them both to the floor, still hugging Keith tight.

Keith buried his face in Lance’s shoulder, letting out a muffled sniff. One of Lance’s hands trailed up and down his spine, and the other gently carded through his hair. He didn’t say anything; he just held Keith close and let him cry.

After a long time, Keith pulled back, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispered roughly, moving to sit back against the wall. His knee was pressed against Lance’s thigh, but he didn’t want to move; the single point of contact brought more comfort than Keith thought possible.

“Don’t apologize,” Lance replied, just as softly. It felt wrong somehow, to speak in normal tones. As if they were in a quiet bubble, safe and quiet, and if someone made too loud a sound, it would pop and the real world would come rushing in. “You don’t have to apologize for any of that.”

He couldn’t imagine what Keith had been through in the past day. Having to hear his brother talk, see him alive and breathing, yet knowing that he wasn’t his brother. That he never would be. No matter how much he looked and acted and sounded like him.

Keith rested his head against the wall, violet eyes flicking from Lance’s face to the floor to the ceiling to Lance again. “It hurts,” he whispered, and his voice sounded so small.

Lance’s fingers curled around Keith’s. “I know,” he said softly. He gently squeezed Keith’s hand. “I wish I could help more.”

After a moment, Keith squeezed back. “You help more than you know."

“The collider will be completed tomorrow night,” Allura said. “We need to be battle-ready by then.” She was sitting primly on the couch, a bowl of noodles and sauce balanced on her lap. She looked regal as a queen even with her long silver hair pulled up into a messy bun and one of Rayden’s hoodies pulled over her suit.

Shiro sat beside her, holding his own food. He wore one of Takashi’s-the other Takashi-shirts, as it was the only thing that fit his broad shoulders.

Hunk was also wearing one of Blaytz’s shirts, though it looked a little tight on him. He was sitting on a plush armchair, eagerly digging into his food.

Pidge sat on the floor, wrapped up in another one of Rayden’s hoodies that swamped their form. They were tapping away at a holoscreen laptop that they had stored in Green, the light reflecting from their glasses.

Keith sat on the floor next to Lance. He showed no signs of his previous breakdown; but his knee brushed up against Lance’s, his body angled toward the taller boy.

“This key is giving me some trouble,” Pidge said, glancing up from their keyboard. “It'll probably take me a few hours to decrypt.”

“In the meantime,” Shiro said, “we’ll rest up. Get ready for the fight of our lives.”

Rayden stood. “I have places for all of you to sleep, though it might be a little cramped. I don’t usually have this many people over.”

“We don’t mind at all,” Hunk said, rising to his feet. “We can’t even say how much we appreciate your hospitality.”

Rayden smiled over his shoulder. “If I didn’t help my husband’s counterparts, he’d haunt me for life. It’s not worth the risk.”

He left to gather bedding for them all. Hunk stretched his arms over his head. “I’m going to go do the dishes,” he announced. “No sense making him do all the work.”

“I will help,” Allura announced, gracefully rising to her feet.

Shiro looked glumly at his prosthetic hand. “I can’t get it wet,” he said sorrowfully.

Hunk blinked in surprise. “How do you shower?”

“There’s a special glove that fits perfectly over my arm. Problem is, I didn’t have it on me when I was sucked into another reality.”

“Aw, come on, Shiro!” Lance laughed. “You’re Spider-Man! You gotta be prepared for these things!”

Shiro chuckled. “It doesn’t exactly happen every day, Lance!”

“What do you mean? I visit another reality once a week.” Keith’s voice was quiet, but Lance was surprised to hear him speak at all. He couldn’t keep the proud smile from his face as Keith met Shiro’s eyes, his lips ticking upward at the corners. “Keep up with me, old man.”

“Well, Pidge and I outdo both of you!” Lance lightly punched their shoulder, and they smirked at him.

“Hell, yeah, we do.”

Shiro crossed his arms. “I can’t believe this,” he huffed. “Betrayed by my own Spider-Children.”

The joking and banter went on for a while, all of them laughing and talking together. It felt…right. Lance hadn’t met most of these people before today, but he felt like he’d known them for his whole life. He felt like…they were a little family, a unit. A mismatched family of Spiders.

Which reminded Lance of something. He sighed, brows furrowed.

“What’s up, Lance?” Shiro asked, gray eyes concerned.

“I…should probably tell someone that I…might not come back home for a while.” Lance’s parents had been wanting him to come home to make sure he was okay. With his new mission…that wouldn’t be happening for a while.

“I need to get going on this override key, anyway,” Pidge said. “Y’all are loud.”

Keith stood with Lance. “Do you want me to go with you?” He asked. “Some of Zarkon’s men might be on the lookout for Spider-People.”

Lance shook his head. “They won’t be on the lookout for Lance McClain,” he said, shucking off the Spider-Man costume. He really needed a new suit, a real one. Maybe Rayden would lend him one.

Keith hesitated, violet eyes darting to Shiro, who was watching Pidge type. Lance jerked his head toward the older Spider-Man.

Talk to him, he mouthed.

Keith swallowed, then nodded shakily. “Be careful,” he murmured as Lance passed.

“I will.”

Keith took a fortifying breath before pushing the sliding door open. Shiro sat on the back porch, leaning back on his hands. He was staring at the stars, illuminated in the moonlight, and for a moment Keith considered going back inside.

Then he remembered Lance’s earnest expression, the way his brows had furrowed.

talk to him.

They both knew that Keith would regret it if he didn’t; but that didn’t mean that he was looking forward to it.

He walked forward, and Shiro turned, smiling gently at him.

god, he couldn’t do this.

Shiro patted the ground beside him, and Keith moved. Mechanically, robotically. He stiffly sank down beside Shiro, tipping his head back to look at the stars.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Shiro murmured.

Keith could only nod.

“I always wonder if there’s someone up there, watching us,” Shiro continued softly. “Or if we’re all on our own out here.”

“Yeah,” Keith managed. His voice was raw; he was sitting only a few feet away from Shiro, and he wanted to scoot closer. He wanted to run away. He wanted…

he wanted his brother back.

He didn’t realize Shiro was watching him until he glanced down and saw his gray eyes fixed on his face.

“Keith, are you all right?” Shiro asked softly.

Keith nodded stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest and hiding behind his bangs. Shiro shifted into a more comfortable position.

“You can talk to me, you know.” Shiro said softly. “I don’t know how it is in your reality, but in mine…you’re my little brother.”

Keith stiffened, his jaw clenching.

he couldn’t do this.

Of course, Shiro saw. He had always been able to read Keith like a book. Even across realities, that had never changed.

“Keith,” Shiro said softly, “can I ask you something?”

Keith inhaled shakily, swallowing thickly. He nodded slowly.

he couldn’t do this.

but he had to.

“The person you lost,” Shiro started. His voice barely penetrated the silence of the night around them. It pierced Keith to his very center, holding him captive; he couldn’t run even if he wanted to. “It…it was me, wasn’t it.” He didn’t say it like a question. He already knew.

Keith’s breath hitched, and he nodded shortly. He didn’t look at Shiro; he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the stars.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro murmured. “I didn’t know.”

Keith didn’t reply; he didn’t trust himself not to break down again.

talk to him.

He took a shaky breath, gathering all his courage. “You were a police officer,” he began. His voice was so, so soft. “You hated Spider-Man at first, like the rest of them, but…I saved dozens of people when a building collapsed. You were one of Spider-Man’s closest allies on the police force after that.”

Shiro listened quietly, not daring to interrupt.

“There was a villain attack,” Keith whispered. "You realized who I was, right before I had to go fight. You…you couldn’t let your little brother fight a supervillain on his own. You were always such a hero.” Tears were clustered in Keith’s eyes as he spoke, and as Shiro watched, one escaped and trickled down his cheek. “When the dust cleared, and the sirens stopped…Adam took you to the hospital, but…you were gone.” His voice cracked on the last word, and his eyes squeezed shut as more tears slid down his cheeks.

Shiro’s eyes were wet, too, but at one name he straightened. “A-Adam?”

Keith nodded. “He was devastated,” he whispered. “Hell, he still is. He never stopped loving you, you know. Even when you two broke up…he never stopped.”

The tears were now trickling down Shiro’s face, too. “I…I never knew,” he whispered. “All this time, I thought he hated me.”

Keith shook his head. “He never could,” he replied. “He…he helps me now, you know. With all the Spider-Man stuff.” He swallowed. “He was going to apologize,” he whispered. “Make everything up to you. He had a whole speech planned out, practiced it with me and everything. But…the very night he was planning on speaking to you…the villain attacked and it was too late for both of us.”

Shiro swallowed, wiping his cheeks. God, he never knew-couldn’t imagine…

They sat in silence after that, both attempting to regain control of themselves. Keith broke the silence, his voice sounding very, very small.

“Sh-Shiro? Can I-can I hug you?”

Shiro turned, opening his arms. Keith fell into his embrace, burying his face in Shiro’s neck like he’d been longing to do ever since that awful night when he’d lost him forever. Shiro’s arms curled around Keith, pulling him into a safe, warm embrace that felt like home.

“I miss you so much,” Keith whispered, his voice breaking.

Shiro hugged him tighter. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured into Keith’s hair. “And I know your Shiro is, too.”

Keith let out a choked sob, clinging to Shiro’s shirt like a lifeline. Shiro gently rocked them back and forth, holding Keith as he sobbed and shook and gasped for breath. Shiro began to sing softly in Japanese, a melody that his father had sung to him when he was just a little boy. Shiro had sung it to Keith-his Keith-to help him fall asleep after he’d had an awful nightmare. And he sang it now, the familiar words rising to his memory as easily as breathing.

They sat there for a long time, Shiro humming and singing softly and rocking his little brother back and forth. He held Keith long after he stopped crying. Long after his little sniffles faded to deep, even breaths. Long after he fell asleep.

Gathering Keith into his arms, Shiro stood, tucking Keith’s head beside his own and carrying him like he would a little child.

He stepped inside, appreciating the rush of warm air after the night’s chill outside. He walked over to one of the couches that Rayden had set aside for them, and gently laid his little brother down. Shiro pulled the blanket over Keith, brushing aside his hair and kissing him on the temple before stepping away.

His heart ached for Keith, his little brother from another reality. He ached for Adam, both his and Keith’s, and their broken hearts. He ached for Rayden, losing his husband yet still being so welcoming to them all. He ached for Pidge, for Hunk, for Allura; they’d all lost someone. They were all hurting inside.

Maybe that was why they had all come together so quickly, Shiro mused. He had never felt so comfortable and open with a group of strangers, and if the way Keith stayed close to Lance and actually smiled a few times…he wasn’t the only one.

They were all a little hurt. A little broken. But they could come together and be broken together. Mismatched, jagged pieces jumbled together into something more.

Shiro didn’t think that sounded so bad.

He cast one more look at Keith before leaving the room. Rayden was sitting at the table, nursing a mug of cocoa and staring out the window. Waiting for Lance to return, perhaps.

“Hey,” Shiro said, coming to sit beside him.

Rayden tilted his head. “Hey.”

The silence that stretched between them was a little awkward. Then Shiro gathered his courage. “If someone close to you…hurt you in some way, and they apologized…would you forgive them?”

“Are you talking about Adam?”

Shiro blinked, taken aback. “H-How did you-”

“Lance told me,” Rayden said, smiling a little. “He said you and Adam had a disagreement and split up.”

“Yeah.” Shiro sighed. “We did.”

“Do you regret it?”

Shiro tapped the tabletop with his fingers. “Every day,” he murmured. “I wish we could’ve fixed it.”

Rayden leaned onto his elbows, setting his mug down. “I can’t speak for Adam, even if he is my counterpart,” he said. “But…I would give anything just to have the chance to speak to Blaytz just one last time. And I’m willing to bet that Adam feels the same way about you.”

Both Adams, Shiro thought. The one he’d left, and the one his counterpart had left.

“Okay,” Shiro whispered. He thought for a moment, then spoke again. “Do…do you have paper and a pen I could use?”

The only sound in the small, empty apartment was the gentle scratch of pen on paper. It was dark, but Lance knew Axca’s apartment as well as his own bedroom; he hung out there whenever they both had free time. It was nice, having such a close friend outside of school; Axca was practically another sister to him.

He’d considered going to his parents or Ronnie, but he knew that they would want him to come home, and he’d have a hard time trying to find an excuse. Axca would understand. She would pass the message on to his family, Lance trusted her to do that.

Finishing his letter, Lance stepped back and returned the pen to its place, leaving the short note on the kitchen counter where Axca would find it when she got home.

He hoped he would be able to tell his parents himself, after all of this was over. But in about a day, he was going to be in the fight of his life. It wasn’t like the things he’d seen in movies, or read in books. This was real danger, real stakes. If he failed…he was dead, and the entire city and everyone in it was gone, too.

At least he wasn’t alone. Keith, Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, they would all be at his side. They’d fight together.

At least, until they all went back to their own realities. Then Lance would be this universe’s only Spider-Man.

No pressure.

He was broken from his thoughts by a sharp prickle running down his spine. Danger. His head snapped around, and Lance froze in horror.

Thick, clawed gloves curled beneath the window, slowly pulling it open. Lance dove behind Axca’s bookshelf, pulse racing.

The Prowler stalked into the room, lithe and graceful and dangerous as ever. Her blades were sheathed and at her sides, her long cape flowing behind her as she paced across the floor.

Lance huddled behind the bookcase, his hands over his mouth; he was certain that his heart was pounding loud enough for the Prowler to hear. He didn’t dare breathe as she looked around the room, eyes narrowed.

She paused by the window, where Lance had left a little scuff of mud from his shoe. His pulse skyrocketed as her hands rested on the hilts of her blades, and she began to scan the room.

Lance held perfectly still, fear freezing him in place as the Prowler drew closer, hands on her blades, eyes sweeping back and forth across the room.

She came around the bookcase, and narrowed her eyes at empty space.

Lance stared directly into her eyes, only a few inches away. He held his breath; if he breathed, she would feel it. His heart galloped in his chest, his eyes wide as saucers.

The ring of a cell phone nearly made Lance jump; the Prowler sat back on her haunches, raising two gloved fingers to the side of her mask.

“Hello, Zarkon,” She said. The mask distorted her voice, almost making her sound scarier than she looked. Almost. “I’ve got the security tapes from the tunnels right here. If the kid’s out there…I’ll find him.” She stood then, rising to her feet with an easy, predatory grace. She slipped her mask from her face.

Lance’s heart stopped, and his world seemed to tilt around him. He could only watch in absolute, complete horror as the Prowler turned her face toward him, revealing her features.

It was Axca.

The Prowler was Axca.

She’d tried to kill him.

“You know me, sir,” Axca murmured darkly, expression dangerous. “I won't ever quit.”

He couldn’t breathe. Panic and sheer terror clawed up his throat as he stood and ran for the window for all he was worth.

Axca’s head snapped toward him, catching sight of a blur leaping out the window. She yanked her mask back over her face and sprinted after him.

Lance tore down the fire escape, tears clustering in his eyes; far above, he heard the sound of Axca pursuing him, jumping down to the next level with a crash.

He made it down to the ground, tearing out into the street to disappear into the crowd. The revving of a motorcycle reached his ears, making his spider-sense tingle down his spine. Lance didn’t think he could possibly run faster; his heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming in short gasps. Tears were streaming down his face. When had he started crying? Lance couldn’t remember.

He wanted nothing more than to sprint all the way back to that little house in Queens, to throw himself into the safety of his fellow Spiders.

He couldn’t do that, though. He couldn’t lead her back to the others.

Lance weaved through the crowd, in and out between people, ducking into alleyways and leaping over fire escapes. Just as his body had known what to do when Allura and the others were testing him, it knew what to do now, to keep him ahead of the Prowler. Of Axca.

His sister.

Lance forced the thought away as he vaulted over the edge of a building and hit the ground in a run. If he thought about that…he’d stop, lie down, and never rise. He had to get away first. When he was safe, he could fall apart then.

Axca’s clawed gloves slammed into the concrete by his face, and Lance yelped, diving aside. Her motorcycle blazed past, and Lance whirled and ran in the other direction. The sidewalks were clear now; most people had dove out of the way when they’d heard the motorcycle coming.

Lance reached a cluster of people who were still out and squeezed in among them. The group of people were standing in front of a small cafe, and Lance slipped inside with them.

Axca’s motorcycle shot past, and Lance exhaled shakily.

He was safe…for now. She wouldn’t stop looking for him; he had to be so, so cautious on his way back.

God, he should have let Keith come with. He wouldn’t be as utterly terrified if he had someone else with him, someone to help.

But if Keith was here, he would be in as much danger as Lance was.

Axca drove her motorcycle past again, appearing to be scanning the streets for Lance. He ducked down so she wouldn’t see him through the window.

He couldn’t stay here. He had to move.

Turning invisible, Lance slipped through the back entrance. The alley was dark and littered with trash, but it led to a side street that was out of the way.

So Lance began the long trek home. He kept having to hide in alleys or buildings, sometimes only barely getting himself out of sight in time.

He was certain that he had never been so terrified.

The sun was rising over the city when Lance finally made it to Rayden’s street. Letting out a cry of relief, he ran for the house, feeling his fear dissipate with every step.

Far behind him, Axca tapped on her gauntlet screen; it was built to sense people with powers and where they were. And the invisible kid definitely had powers.

She paused, staring at where the kid stopped.

There were six of them. Six with powers.

She snapped her gauntlet closed, sending out a text to Zarkon’s henchman’s group chat.

Group Chat: Zarkon Fisk’s “Employees”

Prowler: i found the missing spiders

Prowler: and it looks like they have some new friends

Keith sat on the roof, absently tapping the shingles with his fingers. It was nearly ten o’ clock, but Lance still wasn’t back yet.

Everyone was starting to get worried. Shiro had tried to calm everyone, saying that Lance could handle himself.

Which was true, of course, but that didn’t stop Keith from worrying about him. There were a lot of people trying to kill them, after all. It was dangerous for all of them.

They were nearly ready for the mission. Pidge was adding the finishing touches to the override key, down in the lab. Hunk was helping, saying that he had a little experience with mechanics. Allura was probably down there, too, and Shiro was in the guest bedroom, likely resting.

That left Keith, sitting on the roof, out of sight from the street, on lookout for Lance’s return.

Just as he was about to go back inside and ask Shiro or Rayden to help him start searching, Lance came tearing around the corner, sprinting to the house like the devil himself was chasing behind.

Right away, Keith could tell something was wrong. He dropped off the roof, running to intercept Lance as he entered the gate.

Tears streamed down Lance’s face, and his chest rose and fell with frantic gasps.

“Lance! What happened? Are you all right?” Keith’s hands rose to Lance’s face, gently turning his head this way and that, looking for injuries.

Lance’s fingers curled around Keith’s wrists, gripping him like a lifeline. “C-Can’t breathe,” he gasped; he was shaking from head to toe, desperately clinging to Keith.

Keith took his hands and gently led him into the house, propping him up against the door and helping him sit.

“Put your head between your knees, take deep breaths.” He pressed a hand between Lance’s shoulder blades, gently pushing him down. “Just breathe, Lance.”

Lance gulped down air, his breath stuttering in and out. Keith kept rubbing his back, quietly encouraging him as he slowly regained control of his breathing.

Finally, Lance straightened, still gripping the sleeve of Keith’s borrowed hoodie.

“What happened out there?” Keith asked, kneeling in front of him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Lance shook his head slowly. “‘M not hurt,” he murmured.

Keith twined their fingers together, rubbing the pad of his thumb in a circle over Lance’s knuckles. “What happened, then?”

Lance inhaled shakily, squeezing Keith’s hand tight. “My sister’s the Prowler,” he whispered in a rush.

Keith’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I…I saw her, without her mask, and she chased me…Keith, she-she tried to kill me!”

Keith squeezed Lance’s hands, head spinning. “Okay,” he said, trying to keep Lance from spiraling. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

Lance was gripping his hands so tightly it was beginning to hurt a little; Keith rubbed his fingers over Lance’s hands, and his grip loosened.

A horrible thought occurred to him then. “Lance…were you followed?”

Lance shook his head. “I was careful,” he murmured. “I made sure she didn’t see me.”

If this Prowler was anything like the Prowler in Keith’s universe, she would have tech. Something that could find them no matter where they were, no matter how careful Lance was.

Keith rose to his feet, gently pulling Lance up with him. “Come on. Let’s take this to Shiro.”

“Done,” Pidge announced, tossing the new key to Allura, who caught it deftly. “Everything we need is on there.”

“Just in time,” Shiro called from where he stood near the door. “We’ve got company!”

Tingles ran down everyone’s spines. Keith pulled his mask over his face, slipping on his hood. Everyone else followed suit, readying for battle as their opponents approached.

“Rayden, I suggest you take cover in the lab,” Allura said, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail before pulling on her mask. “This may get messy.”

“I appreciate the thought, I really do, but they’re coming into my house,” Rayden said, hefting the heavy bat he’d had when they’d first met. “I’ll show them what happens when they think they can do that.”

Lance was trembling a bit; Axca would be here. He knew she would.

Keith’s fingers brushed his, and Lance jumped; Keith slid his hand into Lance’s squeezing comfortingly.

Lance squeezed back, feeling some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

Then the doorbell rang.

The door shot inward, and Doc Ock strode inside, grinning widely.

“Oh great, it’s Honerva,” Rayden huffed.

Villains appeared at every entrance, and chaos erupted.

Shouts and grunts filled the room as fights broke out; Allura and Hunk were tussling with a man with a scorpion tail, working in tandem to avoid the venomous tip. Pidge climbed into Green, and the robot leaped into action, picking up Tombstone and yeeting him out the door across the street. Vulture dove through the door with a ghastly shriek, but Rayden slammed the bat into his gut with all his might, and the winged villain crumpled to the ground. Doc Ock was taking on Shiro and Keith; the two brothers may have been separated by realities, but they worked as one, dodging her tentacles and beating her back.

Lance stood in the middle of it all, eyes darting around the room in a panic. All around, his friends shouted and cried out as they fought; Keith grunted as he was knocked away by Doc Ock’s tentacle. Shiro cried out as he was slammed into a wall, and the override key slid from his grasp across the floor.

Moving almost before he could process it, Lance darted forward and scooped up the key.

Then a shadow flitted across the window, and Lance’s eyes widened. She was here.

He backed away, still clutching the key, flitting in and out of invisibility as the Prowler stalked into the room. Her eyes landed on Lance, and the override key in his hands.

She started toward him, but Keith slammed into her, tackling her to the ground. They rolled around, punching and kicking at each other.

“Run!” Keith shouted, ducking to avoid a hit from Axca. “Lance, RUN!”

Lance backed away, then turned and sprinted up the stairs. Behind him, Keith cried out as the Prowler slammed him into the ground, loosening his grip.

“No!” Keith grunted as she slipped from his grip. He tried to grab her again, but she leapt to her feet and tore after Lance.

Lance heard her before he saw her, pounding up the stairs with a vengeance. He gripped the key tighter, crying out as Axca tackled him from behind, shoving him into a wall.

“Give me that thing,” she shouted in his ear, the distorted voice sending panicked chills down Lance’s spine. “Don’t be stupid, kid!”

Lance kicked blindly, catching Axca in the knee. She cried out and went down, and Lance wriggled from her grip, vaulting over her and continuing to run through the house. At the end of the hall was a hole that Green had blasted through the roof. Lance climbed out, clambering up to the roof.

The fight had been taken outside. Shiro and Allura were now fighting Doc Ock, and Hunk and Pidge/Green were battling Tombstone and Vulture, with Rayden swinging hits at either villain whenever he had an opening. Keith and Scorpion were battling across the rooftops, Keith gracefully leaping and flipping in the air to avoid his enemy’s strikes.

Prowler appeared behind him with a crash, shaking rubble off her cape. She glowered at him, stalking toward him across the roof. Before Lance could move, she grabbed his neck, holding him out over the very edge of the roof. Lance gasped, standing on the very tips of his toes, struggling to stay on the roof.

“Nowhere left to run,” Axca hissed.

Keith, seeing what was happening, shouted Lance’s name. He delivered a swift blow to Scorpion’s face, taking him out as quickly as he could before swinging toward Lance.

Axca’s mask was inches from Lance’s, her grip on his neck relentless.

Lance slid his mask from his face, staring into Axca’s eyes.

Axca froze. “...Lance?” She loosened her grip on Lance, sliding her own mask away. Her little brother in all but blood stood there, eyes huge, desperately gripping her wrists.

Oh God. She’d…she’d nearly killed him. She’d nearly killed Lance-more than once.

She never meant for them to get involved. She never wanted the only family she knew to get hurt. Yet here she stood, holding Lance by the neck, staring into his wide, terrified blue eyes.

Lance’s eyes were full of tears, his hands trembling where they held her wrists. “Please, Axca,” he whispered, his voice tremulous. “Please.”

Axca’s earpiece crackled as Zarkon spoke into it. “Prowler, what are you waiting for? Finish it.”

Axca hesitated, looking into Lance’s terrified eyes again. He was her brother. Family.

She didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

Slowly, Axca raised a hand, sliding Lance’s mask back over his face. She slowly released him, stepping back. Her lips quirked upward in a comforting smile.

Then pain shot through her body; the gunshot rung through the streets, echoed by Lance’s scream.

Keith, hearing the gunshot and the scream, shot forward, terror pounding in his veins. He landed on the roof, searching for Lance. He was leaning over a purple-clad body, trying to pick them up. They were too large, their body too limp. And Zarkon was below, taking aim again-this time for Lance.

Keith dove forward, taking the Prowler’s other side. “Come on!”

Far below, Shiro body-slammed Zarkon. “Stay away from them!” He bellowed. Shiro was truly terrifying when he was angry, and this time was no exception.

Keith and Lance swung away, the Prowler’s limp body awkwardly draped between them. They alighted on a police cruiser before swinging up and away, finally coming to an alley.

Lance gently laid Axca down, dropping to her side. He dimly registered Keith on Axca’s other side; all he could see was his best friend, his sister, dying in front of him.

“Lance…” Axca whispered hoarsely.

“Axca,” Lance cried, eyes overflowing with tears. “I’m so sorry, this is my fault-”

“No, Lance,” Axca whispered. “I’m sorry. I let you down, Lance.” She inhaled shakily, feeling the blooming pain begin to fade; it wouldn’t be long now. “You’re the best of all of us,” she murmured, gripping Lance’s hand tight. “Just keep going, okay? Just…keep going.” Her eyes drifted closed, her hand going limp in his.

Lance desperately squeezed her hand. “No, no, you’re going to be okay, you’re gonna be fine!”

Axca didn’t respond; her limp hand slowly slipped from his grip, dropping to the ground.

Lance let out a choke sob, squeezing his eyes shut. Keith’s hand closed over his shoulder, rubbing in comforting circles; Lance barely felt it.

Then a shout echoed down the alley. “PDNY! Put your hands up!”

Lance froze. It was his father. Oh God, it was his dad.

“Lance, we need to go, now!” Keith gently helped Lance to his feet. “Come on. We need to regroup.”

“Stop! Put your hands where I can see them!” Julian McClain shouted, advancing down the alley toward them.

Keeping a tight hold on Lance, Keith swung up to the rooftops, and the two Spider-Men were gone.

In the alley, Julian gasped when he caught sight of the body. He ran forward, eyes widening when he saw who it was. He pressed two fingers to Axca’s neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none.

Julian sat back, eyes wide with shock and grief. She was like a daughter to him. And now she was dead. With shaking hands, Julian turned on his shoulder radio. When he spoke, his voice was hard and cold.

“All units, I want an APB on two new Spider-Men.”

They gathered in the underground lab, scuffed up and tired from their fight but mostly unharmed.

Pidge was buried in their tech, muttering under their breath as they worked. Hunk was bandaging Allura’s arm; she’d gotten a cut from some flying debris. Rayden was on the other side of the room, on the phone with his insurance. Shiro paced back and forth, waiting for Lance and Keith to return; he hadn’t seen them since the end of the battle.

Finally, the elevator began to move down, and Shiro turned toward them with a sigh of relief.

Lance looked awful. His eyes were rimmed with red, and it looked like he was barely able to stand. Keith was taking most of his weight, rubbing his arm to comfort him.

Shiro raced forward as the elevator touched down. “What happened?” He cried, looking over the boys for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“We’re okay,” Keith said softly, gently urging Lance to walk. He did so mechanically, clutching onto Keith’s suit so tightly his knuckles were white.

Shiro knew what had happened then. He knew that expression, of grief and pain that was so profound and raw that it felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror.

Keith led Lance to the soft couches, where he sank down gratefully.

Shiro rested his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You okay?” He asked quietly. The other Spiders made their way over, sitting on the couch or standing nearby.

Lance took a deep breath, trying to hold back his tears.

“We’ve all been there,” Shiro murmured softly, kneeling in front of the boy. He paused, then said, “for me, it was my parents.”

“For me, it was my father and my Uncle Coran,” Allura murmured, resting her hand on Lance’s other shoulder.

“For me, it was my brother,” Pidge said softly.

Keith squeezed Lance’s hands. “It was my brother, too,” he whispered. Pidge nodded at him, resting their hand on his shoulder. Keith nodded back, the two finding a new understanding in their grief.

Hunk spoke next, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Lance, the hardest thing about this job is…you can’t always save everyone.”

Lance swallowed. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “Look, it was my fault. You wouldn’t understa-”

“Lance, we’re probably the only ones who do understand,” Keith broke in, meeting Lance’s eyes. They were earnest and sorrowful, and Lance realized he was right. They were right.

Axca…Axca would want him to defeat Zarkon for her. She’d want him to be the best version of himself he could be. Lance rose, turning to the others. “How soon can we get going? We’ve got a city to save.”

Lance hesitated, glancing at Rayden. “Are…are you sure?”

The other nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. “‘Kashi would want you to have it,” he said. “It’s yours.”

Lance turned back to the suit, staring in awe. It was all a smooth, dark blue, darker than Lance’s eyes.

Rayden tapped his arm, and Lance looked up; the man held out a pack of spray paint. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

Lance accepted the spray paint, swallowing when he thought of the artwork he, Ronnie, and Axca had done together just a few days ago.

He looked at the colors, finally selecting a clear, sky blue. The exact shade of Axca’s eyes. He needed another color, though. Lance glanced over to where the rest of his Spider-Family stood, finalizing the battle plans. Pidge was still working furiously on something that they refused to show anyone, but everyone else was looking over the building schematics and getting a rundown on the collider from Hunk.

Lance’s eyes automatically found Keith, leaning over the table with his arms crossed, his brows furrowed. He wore his suit, the black and red highlights complimenting his lean, lithe form.

Lance returned to the colors, pulling out a can of red paint from the rest.

He got to work, letting the paint flow across the dark blue suit. Axca’s memory, painted in blue.

Keith came and watched after a while, hanging upside down from the ceiling as Lance painted. Normally it would make him uncomfortable, someone watching while he painted, but it didn’t bother him this time. Keith didn’t say anything, just watched him work. Finally, Lance sat back, his hands covered in flecks of red and blue, his clothes probably stained.

“Looks good,” Keith said, flipping upright and lowering himself to the floor.

Lance smirked at him. “Looks better than yours.”

Keith raised an eyebrow and shoved him playfully. “Incorrect.”

Lance chuckled, turning back to his suit. His suit. Before, with the cheap costume, he’d felt like a fool. A fake, someone who didn’t really belong with the group of hardened fighters. Now, though…he was one of them.

“Gather ‘round, everyone,” Shiro called. “Game plan!”

Lance and Keith stood as one, walking over to the table.

And Allura and Shiro told them the plan.

They got a lot of weird looks on the bus. Shiro and Hunk were sitting beside each other, and Allura and Pidge were across from them. Lance and Keith were sitting behind Allura and Pidge, trying to ignore the stares of the people sitting across from them.

Lance shot a finger gun at the small child across the aisle. “Wassup?”

Keith shook his head, but he was smiling.

They reached their destination, and the Spider-People piled out of the bus. Green beeped at Pidge as the robot clambered off from on top of the bus, and Pidge climbed inside.

They swung to the roof of Zarkon’s penthouse, peering through the skylight to the room below.

Pidge and Green scanned the building. “Yep, there’s a private elevator just like the plans said,” they reported, pointing with one of Green’s arms. “It goes from the penthouse entrance to the collider below.”

“Didn’t count on having an audience,” Allura murmured thoughtfully, gazing down at the crowd.

There was a party in full swing, with huge banners spread all through the room. They all had pictures of Spider-Man on them.

Zarkon heaved his great bulk from his seat, crossing to the podium. He waved to the crowd. “Thank you all for coming. It’s nice to be here this evening to celebrate Spider-Man. He and I were very close…”

“Asshole,” Lance hissed, his hand curling into a fist. Hunk laid a huge hand on his shoulders.

“Keep your cool, man,” he murmured. “We’re gonna make him pay.”

“Wait,” Keith said, pointing. “Look at how everyone’s dressed!”

They all followed his gaze. Shiro winced. “That’s not in very good taste,” he muttered.

The waiters and waitresses were all dressed as Spider-Man, with cheap bow ties at their necks.

“There’s no way it can be that easy,” Lance insisted.

“It was that easy,” he amended, straightening his tie.

Allura nudged his arm. “Stop fiddling with that,” she murmured under her breath. “Look like a professional.”

Lance dropped his hands to his sides, straightening his shoulders. Beside him, Hunk walked, pretending to push the “table” that was actually Pidge and Green with a tablecloth thrown over them both. The other Spiders were walking all around, a small cluster of friends in a sea of strangers.

Lance caught sight of Rayden, sitting at a table with some other guests. He saw the Spiders at the same time; Rayden raised his glass in a subtle salute, his expression remaining carefully neutral. Lance nodded in return.

He was going to make this right.

In the hallway, the Spiders waited on the ceiling as Zarkon strode past, his hypocritical speech finished. As he passed, Keith and Allura webbed up the guards, and Hunk shot web over their eyes so they couldn’t see.

They slipped into the elevator shaft, making their way down into the depths of the earth. The Spiders reached the collider room just as the massive machine fired up in a blaze of light.

“Holy sh*t,” Pidge breathed from inside Green.

The beam was brightening, the room shaking from the interdimensional collapse that was starting.

Allura swung out to the ceiling, and the others followed.

“Lance, put the key in and take control of the beam,” Allura called over the rumbling of the collider. “You will need to hack into it while we buy you time. When we’ve all left, blow it up.”

Lance began to crawl to the panel, clutching the collider in one hand. One by one, his spider-family swung away, taking on the enemies that were appearing on all sides.

“Good luck, guys.”

The fight was not going well. Doc Ock burst from the wall, her tentacles wrapping around Shiro and slamming him into the wall. “Nice to see you again, Takashi,” she hissed, grinning sharply.

“Shiro!” Keith cried, swinging up to help. He was intercepted by Tombstone, charging forward with a shout. Keith barely managed to dodge the bullets, whipping around to engage.

Pidge and Green were facing off with Scorpion, holding their own. Pidge shouted and yanked the controls, and Green sliced a deep cut into Scorpion’s tail. He hissed in pain, recoiled, then sprung forward again, his tail coming forward in a deadly arc.

Allura shot toward a group of men with guns, but she glitched halfway through the swing and fell, crying out. Hunk swooped in and caught her, setting her down on the ground before shooting forward to plow through the men. Allura was on her feet a moment later, helping him take them all down.

Far above, at the collider control panel, Lance glanced down at his friends as they shouted and fought. Shiro cried out as he was slammed into the wall, his prosthetic arm trapped behind his back. Keith fell to the ground from a hard hit, rolling aside to barely avoid Tombstone’s next strike. Pidge screamed as Scorpion’s tail penetrated Green’s glass screen, and Allura knocked Scorpion away, shouting in rage.

Lance forced himself to return to his task, typing furiously. He was nearly there…

Shiro cried out again, and Lance looked.

He was wrapped in tentacles, held close to Doc Ock’s face.

“Any last words?” She hissed, enjoying the sharp hiss that came as she tightened her hold.

“Got a pen?” Shiro grunted, wincing as his ribs creaked under the pressure.

Doc Ock smirked. “Goodbye, Takashi.”

Suddenly, she fell back with a cry. There was a rush of air by Shiro’s cheek, and then Doc Ock fell back even further.

“Who’s doing that?” She screeched, looking around.

Another hit made her fall back again, her tentacles unraveling. Shiro launched himself forward as soon as he was freed, knocking her back. He and Lance landed on the ceiling.

“Lance! What are you doing down here?”

“It doesn’t matter if I get the collider to work if you’re all dead!” Lance shouted back, swinging around to hit Doc Ock again.

They all continued the battle, Shiro and Lance working in tandem to take Doc Ock down.

She shrieked in rage, flinging cars and chunks of buildings from other realities at them, but Lance and Shiro dodged easily.

Chaos was descending; other realities were coming through the collider, sending buildings and cars and signs flying through the air. Enemies descended on all sides, nearly overwhelming the Spiders as they battled ferociously.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Shiro cried, stopping to rest on the wall. Lance joined him, Keith landing beside him a moment later.

“Looks like the dimensions are coming to us!” Keith exclaimed.

“We have to hurry!” Lance cried.

On the other side of the room, Allura and Tombstone were brawling. She was smaller and slimmer, but her hits were powerful and she was fast. She kicked him hard in the face, sending a follow-up hit that took him down for good.

Scorpion had Pidge and Green pinned down. Pidge cried out as they were jostled inside Green, and Scorpion laughed as he began to dismantle the robot, tearing off its limbs one by one. Alarms blared and red lights flashed as Pidge tried to get away, but Scorpion had them trapped.

Then Hunk dropped on Scorpion’s face, kicking him hard.

Scorpion hissed at him, brandishing his tail.

“Bring it, ugly,” Hunk growled, balling his fists.

Scorpion and Hunk battled, throwing punches and dodging hits. Hunk was surprisingly fast and agile for someone of his size; he easily dodged Scorpion’s blows, knocking his legs out from under him.

Before he could rise, Allura grabbed hold of his tail, heaving him aside with all her strength.

Pidge screamed, slamming one of Green’s severed limbs into Scorpion’s gut like a baseball player with nothing to lose.

Scorpion was down and out for the count, and the three raced to engage with the other enemies pouring in.

Meanwhile, Shiro, Lance, and Keith leapt around, tag-teaming against Doc Ock. She screamed, throwing debris around and lashing at the air with her tentacles.

One tentacle caught Keith hard in the gut, and he slammed into a wall, cracking the concrete with the force. He groaned and fell forward toward the beam.

“Keith!” Lance cried, swinging downward. His hand closed around Keith’s wrist, and after a moment, the dazed boy gripped him back.

“Thanks,” Keith gasped as Lance swung back up. They landed on a floating building, Keith pressing his hands to his knees to catch his breath.

“You okay?” Lance stood over him, glancing to where Shiro now fought Doc Ock one-on-one. They needed to get back up there.

“Yeah.” Keith straightened, and they both launched themselves toward the fight.

The three hit her one by one, and Doc Ock fell back, slamming into a building and making sections of concrete crumble away.

“Get ready, guys,” Keith said, dropping into a battle stance. “This is gonna take a while.”

Doc Ock pulled herself upright and charged, her tentacles moving over the building and propelling her toward them. She cackled in delight as she approached-

-and was hit by an eighteen-wheeler. She disappeared with the truck, sucked into the beam and sent to who-knows-where.

Lance and Keith exchanged a surprised look, and Shiro let out a low whistle. “Never mind, then.”

“Let’s go,” Lance said. “You guys have somewhere to be.”

They swung up to the control panel, Lance taking the collider key back out. The others met them there, Pidge hanging onto Hunk’s back. Green was not there, but a spider sat on Pidge’s shoulder, waving its legs in greeting when the others arrived.

Lance was about to start typing when his spider-sense went crazy.

“Watch out!” Allura shouted, diving to the side. Everyone hit the deck.

The car sailed toward them, flipping end over end, parting Lance’s hair as it passed inches above his head. It fell into the beam, disappearing into the multiverse.

Zarkon bellowed and threw another car, but Shiro caught it with a grunt, sending it flying back. “Come on! We’re not done yet!”

Lance shot forward, swinging around and punching Zarkon in the side. At the same time, Allura kicked his knee, and Keith slammed into his face.

The Spiders swung around him, seamlessly weaving around each other’s attacks and dodging Zarkon’s hits.

But their luck didn’t hold. Hunk fell back from a powerful punch to the gut; Allura grunted as she blocked another punch while trying to cover him.

Shiro yelled and tackled Zarkon, and Pidge slapped a small device onto his neck. “Lance, now!” They yelled.

Lance shot in, Keith at his side. He summoned up the venom strike, feeling the electricity tingling through his veins. He pressed his hands into Zarkon’s gut, forcing the electricity out of his body and into Zarkon’s.

At the same time, Keith, Shiro, Allura, and Hunk all shot forward, shoving Zarkon hard. With their combined strength, Lance’s venom strike, and Pidge’s amplifier, Zarkon fell back, bellowing as he fell into the beam and disappeared.

Lance fell to his knees, gasping for breath; even with Pidge’s amplifier helping, he’d never discharged that much energy before.

Keith helped him rise, supporting some of his weight.

The battle won, they reconvened at the collider.

This was where they said goodbye.

Lance inserted the key, typing out the code. Working side by side, he and Pidge made short work of it, and before long the collider was under their control and ready to go.

He sat back, pulling off his mask so he could see his friends properly.

“I guess…this is goodbye,” Hunk said softly.

Pidge smirked, a gleam in their eye. “Not necessarily.” They reached into their pocket, withdrawing a thin tablet, no larger than a cell phone.

Shiro leaned down, peering at the device. “Is that what you’ve been working on this whole time?”

“And not telling us what it is?” Lance added. He’d been burning with curiosity, but Pidge had insisted on keeping it a secret.

Until now. They nodded, pulling off their mask to reveal their face, too. “I…wanted to be able to see you guys again,” they admitted softly. “I don’t want to be the only one anymore.”

“Me, neither,” Hunk murmured. From the exchanged glances around the circle, it seemed everyone felt that way.

Pidge showed them the device. “It works like a cell phone; we can text or video call each other. I was going to add a miniature collider, too, so that we could visit each other and help with fights, but I need the supplies in my lab for that…” they trailed off, looking downcast. “Sorry about that.”

Hunk pulled them into a hug, followed closely by Lance and Allura. Shiro and Keith joined last, drawing them all into a big Spider group hug.

“It’s perfect,” Allura whispered into Pidge’s hair. “This is more than I ever imagined, keeping contact with you all even across realities.”

When they broke out of the hug, Pidge was smiling. “As soon as I get home,” they said, “I’m going to start working on miniature colliders, and I’ll bring them to you when I’m done. I just got a new family; I’m not letting you guys go so easily.”

Shiro sighed, looking resigned. “Am I doomed to raise five Spider-Children?”

Lance nudged him playfully. “Yep. You love us.”

Shiro smiled, nudging Lance back and beaming at the others. “Yeah, I do.”

Pidge handed out the communicators, showing them all how to operate them. “Make sure you keep these out of sight, especially you, Allura. This tech is way more advanced than what you all have in your own realities.”

Allura peered at the device in bewilderment. “First automobiles,” she murmured thoughtfully, “and now this.”

The building rumbled, stress from all the realities making it shake.

“We’d better wrap this up,” Shiro said. He nodded to Lance.

Lance pressed a few buttons. “You first, Pidge.”

Pidge smiled at them. “Thanks, guys.” They glanced at the spider on their arm. “From both of us.” They saluted and fell backward into the beam, disappearing into a flash of green. The color washed over them, sending bursts of different shades of green bursting outward.

Lance typed in a new code. “Now you, ‘Llura.”

Allura paused, lowering her mask as she gazed at them. “I am honored to have fought at your sides,” she murmured. “I look forward to when we next meet.” Then she, too, flipped neatly off the wall and disappeared. Pink and pale blue washed over the room, shot through with streaks of gleaming silver.

Lance adjusted the collider key again and glanced at Hunk, raising an eyebrow. The larger boy engulfed Lance and Keith into a huge hug. “Aww, man, I’m going to miss you guys!”

“I’m gonna miss you, too, big guy,” Lance laughed, patting his back. “I’ll text you, okay?”

Hunk set them down, wiping tears from his eyes. He and Shiro hugged as well.

“Get home safe,” Shiro said, patting Hunk on the back.

Lance and Keith exchanged an amused look; he really is like a parent.

Hunk disappeared in a flash of yellows and golds, nearly blinding in their intensity.

Then it was Keith’s turn. He hesitated, glancing between Lance and Shiro. The latter pulled him into a tight hug, and Keith buried his face into his brother’s shoulder, memorizing his scent, memorizing the feel of his arms around him.

They pulled back, and Shiro pushed something into Keith’s hand. A small leather case.

“Open it when you get home,” Shiro murmured. “There’s something in there for Adam.”

Maybe he would forgive him. Maybe not. But Shiro wanted to give Adam something he had never had the chance to receive in that reality: closure. Peace of mind.

Keith pocketed the case, thanking Shiro quietly.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything,” Shiro reminded him.

Then Keith moved on to Lance. They paused, staring at each other, unsure of what to say. All the times they had comforted each other passed between them, all those hidden smiles and stolen glances.

Then Lance held out a hand. “See you later, Samurai.”

Keith shook it, keeping his hold on Lance’s hand. He hesitated, glancing to Shiro, who grinned knowingly and nodded in encouragement.

Keith raised a hand to Lance’s face, gently cupping his cheek as he leaned forward. Lance met him in the middle, eyes slipping closed as their lips met.

It wasn’t desperate, or hungry, even as the fireworks went off in Keith’s chest and his pulse raced. It was soft and gentle; a promise, not a goodbye.

They broke apart, and Lance smiled. “Can I like the haircut now?”

Keith laughed; leave it to Lance to say something like that after they’d just kissed. “I’ll text you,” he said, still smiling. His pulse thrummed with happiness as Lance saluted with a grin.

“See you on the other side, then,” Lance said.

Keith smiled and fell backward, disappearing in a rush of crimson light.

Shiro side-eyed Lance, a mischievous grin creeping up his face.

“Don’t,” Lance warned, putting up a hand.

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” Shiro protested. He wrapped Lance up in a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured. “You’re going to do great things.”

Lance grinned as he pulled back. “I’ll do my best.”

Shiro waved in farewell as he, too, dropped into the beam. Purple and black light washed over the room, and Lance pressed the button, curling up to protect himself.

The explosion rocked the room, sending heat flaring across Lance’s body, though he was far enough away that he was unharmed.

His first mission as Spider-Man was a success.

Julian McClain finished with the last of the criminals, shoving a handcuffed Tombstone into a police cruiser. As the car drove away, his phone rang.

His heart leapt when he saw the caller I.D.

“Lance!” He cried, relief flooding through him. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Lance replied. He sat on the building, overlooking his father and the other police officers.

“Have…have you heard about…?” Julian’s voice wavered slightly.

“Yeah,” Lance said again, closing his eyes. “Lo siento mucho, papa.”

There was a pause, both McClains unsure of what to say next.

Finally, Lance spoke tentatively. “Do you know who did it?” It wouldn’t be good if the new Spider-Man was a suspect for murder; not to mention that Keith wasn’t even in this dimension anymore.

“Thought I did,” Julian murmured. “Now…I’m not sure.” He paused, then said, “you know, Lance, I could get a wall for you, and you and Ronnie could throw up some of your art. A memorial for Axe, if you want.”

Lance swallowed. “Eso me gustaría mucho,” he whispered. “I’d like that a lot.” He paused. “Te amo, papa.”

“I love you, too,” Julian murmured as his son hung up.

He jumped as Spider-Man appeared next to him. “Spider-Man!”

“I look forward to working with you, officer,” Lance said, deepening his voice and giving his dad finger guns.

“Me, too,” Julian admitted. “I don’t agree with some of your methods, but I think we can…agree to disagree.”

“Thanks for your bravery tonight,” Lance said, stepping away. Right before he disappeared, he turned, cupping his hand to his mouth. “I love you!”

Julian paused, frowning in confusion. “I…love you, too?”

All right, people, let’s do this one last time. For real, yeah?

My name is Lance McClain. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the last day, I’ve been the one and only Spider-Man.

I think you know the rest. I swung around a lot, saved a bunch of people, got hit by a drone…

I painted a memorial with Ronnie. It’s on a clean wall right outside the police station. I think Axca would be embarrassed if she saw it; she was never one for attention.

I think she’d be proud, though.

I finally met my roommate, Rolo.

And…I do all I can to make them all proud. Blaytz, Axca, my mami and papa.

And when I feel alone, I remember my friends. I know they’re all out there, and they’ve all got my back.

I’m not the only Spider-Man. Not by a long shot.

Group Chat: Spidey Squad

LanceytheBlue: ……did everyone get home all right? does this thing even work?

LanceytheBlue: wait why is my name like that

pidge-the-gremlin: because i named you that. deal with it

pidge-the-gremlin: im ok. everything’s back to normal here.

baking-master: Lance! Pidge! This thing actually works!

pidge-the-gremlin: ok now im offended

pidge-the-gremlin: of course they work. i built them.

baking-master: sorry pidge. This is hunk, by the way! Everything’s all good here, lance!

SilverStarryQueen: yes i am home as well

SilverStarryQueen: this device is…interesting, but i believe i am getting the hang of it

SilverStarryQueen: allura here

Spider-Dad-Needs-A-Hand: All good in my reality, Lance.

Spider-Dad-Needs-A-Hand: Very creative name for me, Pidge.

pidge-the-gremlin: i thought it was funny

Emo-With-A-Hood: thats because it is

Emo-With-A-Hood: dammit pidge, you have a hood too

pidge-the-gremlin: so what if i do?

pidge-the-gremlin: yours is more emo than mine

pidge-the-gremlin: the red. the black. you're a full edgelord, my guy

Emo-With-A-Hood: hmmph.

Emo-With-A-Hood: yeah i got home ok. adam yelled at me for a good half hour for scaring him

Emo-With-A-Hood: then he hugged me for five minutes straight

LanceytheBlue: sounds like he was worried

Emo-With-A-Hood: yeah, he’s like that sometimes

Emo-With-A-Hood: And shiro? adam says thanks. For the letter. And for taking care of me out there.

Spider-Dad-Needs-A-Hand: It was the least I could do.

pidge-the-gremlin: ive nearly got the mini colliders done. They should be brought over in a few weeks or so

LanceytheBlue: cant wait <3

baking-master: <3

SilverStarryQueen: <3

SilverStarryQueen: what does that even mean

pidge-the-gremlin: <3

Emo-Samurai-With-A-Knife: …………

Emo-Samurai-With-A-Knife: <3

Adam,

If you’re reading this, then…you know what happened. Keith was brought to an alternate dimension with a group of other Spider-People from across the multiverse. I was one of them.

Hopefully, everyone got home all right. If not…well, we all know the risks of this job.

Keith told me about…what happened to his Shiro. Your Shiro.

We broke up in my reality, too. I’ve always wished we could have fixed it. Without fighting, without breaking it off.

I…just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I know I’m not him. I’m not, and I’ll never be him. But I know that he would say the same thing.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

I hope you can forgive him. And me.

And…I just wanted you to know that…I’m going to try to make it right. On my end. I’m going to try again with us. I just…wanted you to know that I’m trying.

You should be proud of Keith. He’s doing great things. But I’m sure you already know that.

I hope you're good. I hope you've found happiness. I'll try my best to do the same.

-Shiro

Chapter 2: love at first sight's for suckers (at least it used to be)

Chapter Text

“Allura, I’m sure your cast is very talented,” Mr. Zarkon said, steepling his fingers, “but I’m afraid I cannot, in good conscience, put money toward a club that never pulls any successes.”

Allura resisted the urge to bitch-slap the principal. If they had more money, then they would be more successful!

“Mr. Z,” she said instead, barely managing to keep her voice level, “if you were to give us a chance, would you consider giving us more funds next year if it is a success?”

Mr. Zarkon considered this, staring off into the middle distance with his eerie gold eyes. “Perhaps,” he said finally. “If you can put on a performance that I deem to be excellent, then your club will receive all the financial compensation you will need in the following year. One performance, Miss Oriande. One. Performance.”

“Thank you, Mr. Z,” Allura beamed. “You will not regret this decision, I promise you!”

Mr. Z narrowed his eyes. “See that I don’t.”

Allura stood to leave; as she stepped from the door, the principal called after her.

“Impress me, Miss Oriande! Otherwise you can kiss your theater club goodbye!”

“Sounds like that went well,” a voice nearby made Allura jump. Lance pushed off from where he leaned against the wall. “So we’ve got a performance?”

Allura nodded, hastening to the club room. “I will explain to everyone at once.”

“Awesome!” Lance grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets as he loped alongside her. “We’ve got this in the bag!”

The two friends made their way down the hall, Lance almost bounding with his usual energy, and Allura with her fast, no-nonsense stride.

Lance opened the door to the theater club room, holding it open for Allura. She entered into chaos.

Romelle and Pidge had built a chair fort and were throwing balled-up pieces of paper at Shiro, who was unsuccessfully trying to restore order. Hunk was curled up on the table, fast asleep, and Adam was stacking a tower of plastic cups on him. Keith was actively trying to take the fort by force, but every time he got close he got a faceful of paper.

Allura sighed deeply and raised her fingers to her lips. Her piercing whistle sliced through the chaos of the room, and everyone fell silent. Pidge froze in midair, just as she was about to kick Keith in the head. Hunk woke with a start, and the plastic cup tower clattered to the floor. Adam’s shoulders slumped.

Allura sighed. “Shiro, I told you to keep everyone out of trouble while I was gone!”

Shiro grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Allura. I tried.”

“This room needs to be cleaned up, then we’ll have a meeting,” Allura said, stooping to begin stacking plastic cups.

“Get to it, people!” Shiro called, crouching to join her.

They all began to clean up, Hunk still looking around blearily from his nap. Pidge grudgingly stacked the chairs with Adam and Lance, and everyone else picked up the cups.

Before long, the room was restored to order and Allura prompted everyone to sit. They all flopped on the ground in various states of attentiveness; half of them were sitting on the table, the other half on the floor in front, but they were never a formal group at best so Allura didn’t mind.

“I just returned from speaking to the principal,” she reported, sliding down to sit on the floor. “He has given us one chance to keep this club going. If we can impress him enough with our next performance, we will receive all the funding we need.”
“All right!” Lance beamed, high-fiving Hunk. “We can do this, easy-peasy!”

Allura smiled. “Yes, I do believe that we can. Inside this room are some of the greatest actors I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. If we work together, we can show Zarkon our greatest performance!”

Keith raised a hand. “What are we performing?”

“If we’re looking to impress Zarkon,” Adam murmured thoughtfully, his gaze far away, “then it can’t be something simple. We need to go big.”

“Not too big, though,” Hunk cautioned. “We still need to get everything together in time.”

Allura sat back on her hands as her cast and crew began to work it out, each chiming in with their own input whenever they had something to say.

“So, we can’t do anything that’s too obscure,” Romelle stated. “It needs to be one that is well-known.”

Lance stood, crossing to the whiteboard and uncapping a marker. “So, if we’re talking well-known musicals, what have we got here?”

“Into the Woods is pretty popular,” Pidge stated from where she was curled beneath the table.

Lance scribbled it down on the whiteboard, the blue marker squeaking as he wrote.

“I don’t know if Zarkon’s into fairy tales, though,” Keith pointed out. “He doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Wicked?” Hunk suggested from where he leaned against the table leg. “I know it’s kind of a fairy tale, but it’s well-known for sure.”

Adam shook his head, brows furrowed. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s pretty similar in genre to Into the Woods.”

“True,” Romelle murmured. “We should try and avoid that genre. How about Les Mis?”

Pidge pulled a face. “Nah. Too depressing. Besides, we did that a few years ago. I had to be Gavroche because I’m the shortest here.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Hunk grinned.

“Guys, focus,” Shiro said, gently steering the conversation back on track. “So Lance, looks like you’d better erase Wicked and Into the Woods. I know for a fact that Zarkon doesn’t like fairy tales.”

“And Les Miserables is definitely out,” Keith grumbled. “I am never doing that again.”

Pidge snickered. “Oh yeah, you had to be Marius. That was awesome.”

“If anyone suggests Cats, I’m quitting,” Lance stated, pointing his marker at the group. “You guys can’t pay me to dress up as a singing furry.”

Pidge opened her mouth, grinning devilishly, but Keith gently smacked the back of her head.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Guys,” Shiro said again. “Come on, discussion time.”

“The Sound of Music?” Romelle suggested, combing her fingers through her long blonde hair.

“We did that last year, too,” Lance sighed.

“We could do Hamilton?” Hunk suggested with a shrug.

“Hey, that might work!” Lance straightened. “We haven’t done it recently, and it’s pretty popular!”

“Lance, I cannot rap to save my goddamn life,” Pidge complained.

Everyone paused, regarding each other. They’d rapidly gone through the lists of the musicals that they knew, but now they were stumped.

Then Shay spoke up from where she sat beside Shiro. She’d been so quiet that Allura had nearly forgotten she was there.

“What about Newsies? It’s historical, and well-known.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, and Lance wrote it down.

“I like that idea the best,” Adam admitted, leaning back to stretch.

“A bunch of kids banding together to destroy capitalism? Sign me the hell up,” Pidge said.

“We’ll vote,” Allura said. She motioned to Lance, who tapped the whiteboard with the cap of his marker.

“Everyone come put a tally by the musical you want to perform.”

“Can’t you just write our votes down?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lance stuck out his tongue. “Nope.”

Pidge groaned and got to her feet. “When y'all are done being gay..."

One by one, the club members stood and wrote down their votes. When everyone was finished and seated again, Allura stood, scanning over the results.

“Looks like it’s Newsies,” she reported.

Lance beamed. “Man, this is gonna be great!” He leaned forward on his elbows. “All right, guys, how’re we gonna do this?”

“I will work on ordering the script and sheet music,” Allura said, rising to her feet. “In the meantime, Shiro, could you cobble auditions together? We’ll need extras for the background characters.”

“And we need to decide who will play who,” Adam pointed out.

“Ooh!” Lance flailed a hand. “Can I be Crutchie? Please can I be Crutchie?”

Shiro chuckled at Lance’s enthusiasm. “We’ll discuss it, okay? I’m not hugely familiar with the musical, so maybe we could watch that before we start?”

“I’m on it,” Pidge announced, sliding onto the table and pulling out her laptop. It was scattered with stickers, but not the usual kind, like from bands or TV shows. Lance had taken to sticking the labels from fresh fruit onto her laptop, and Pidge never bothered taking them off.

A moment of rapid typing later, and Pidge was turning the laptop around so they could all see the screen.

“Where’d you find this?” Hunk asked as the opening credits began to roll.

“It’s a bootleg.”

Two days later

“Shiro, you can’t be serious!” Lance stared at the older teen, his eyes wide.

Shiro shrugged. “Unless you don’t want the main role…”

“No!” Lance yelped, making the other chuckle. “I want it! I just…why’d you choose me for it? Keith’s a way better actor-”
“Don’t tell me this is the rivalry thing again,” Shiro said, brows lowered in disapproval.

“No, we’re way past that, remember? It’s just…an observation. He’s the better choice.”

Shiro shrugged. “It's true that Keith is an excellent actor. But so are you; and you fit this role perfectly, with the singing and choreography that’ll be required.”

“Keith sang as Marius,” Lance pointed out. “That’s one of the main roles in Les Mis.”

“That was different,” Shiro said, sitting down and crossing his arms. “In Newsies, there’s a lot more dancing and acrobatics, and you’re just the guy for that. I love Keith, you know I do, but he can’t dance to save his life.”

Lance considered that. “Well, you’re not exactly wrong there.”

Shiro laid a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Lance, trust me when I say that I think you’re the best for this role.”

Lance hesitated, then his signature smile slid up his face. “I won’t let you down, Shiro! Zarkon’s gonna be blown away by my killer performance!”

Shiro couldn’t help but smile as the younger teen pranced away; Lance truly was one of their most capable cast members, but he had a tendency to put himself down. Yes, Keith was an excellent actor, but so was Lance in his own right.

I’m glad that rivalry’s over, though. When the boys had first met years ago, at the first theater club meeting, it was a disaster. They’d argued and fought over the smallest things, to the point where Allura was forced to temporarily ban both of them from the club.

It had taken them a while, but Shiro was glad to see them on good terms.

Maybe this performance would be good for more than one reason.

Two weeks later

Shiro walked backstage, waving to Allura from where she was building the set. She waved back, tucking silver strands behind her ear before going back to work.

Pidge and Hunk were helping, the sounds of their hammering echoing through backstage. Adam was slung over a chair, the script in his hands; his hazel eyes moved back and forth across the page, his lips forming his lines as he went.

Tearing his gaze away, Shiro kept walking-and stopped when he saw Keith peeking through the curtain.

Creeping up behind him, Shiro poked his head out to see what Keith was looking at.

Lance stood in the center of the stage, eyes closed as he moved across the stage. White trailed down from his ears; he spun around the stage, dancing to music only he could hear. His lips moved, mouthing the words to one of the dance numbers.

Shiro nudged Keith, snickering. “I can’t believe you’re spying on your boyfriend.”

Keith hissed, swatting at Shiro’s legs. “Shut up! You’re gonna make him lose his focus!”

Shiro chuckled. “Keith, I cannot believe you right now. You’re the most disaster gay I have ever met!”

“You’re one to talk,” Keith grumbled. “Don’t think I can’t see you staring at Adam every day.”

Shiro’s face warmed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s right, it is pretty pathetic,” Lance broke in, poking his head through the curtain.

Shiro jumped in surprise; the other boy could be eerily light on his feet when he wanted to be.

Lance laughed. “Shiro, your yearning is almost worse than mine! Which is really saying something!”

Shiro huffed, crossing his arms. “I finally help you two get together, and this is the thanks I get?”

Keith shoved him. “Yep.”

“What do you mean we can’t perform here? This is our auditorium!” Keith glowered at Lotor, feeling his anger boil to the surface.

The boy simply smirked, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. “My father gave us this space to perform, and so we will use it. It isn’t my fault that your club president did not reserve the space first.”

“Allura shouldn’t have to!” Keith shouted, balling his fists. “The auditorium is our club’s space! We’ve been planning this production for way longer than you have!”

“Not anymore,” Lotor sneered. “Now you have to contend for it, just like everyone else. See you around, Kogane.”

He turned and disappeared inside. Keith took a step forward, blood boiling, but a hand on the inside of his wrist stopped him. Lance slid his hand into Keith’s, gently pulling his boyfriend back.

“He’s not worth it,” Lance murmured. “Let him go.”

“Asshole,” Keith snarled at where Lotor had been before letting Lance drag him away. They walked down the hall, Lance idly swinging their joined hands.

Finally, Keith sighed heavily. “Sorry about that,” he murmured. “He just…makes me so angry.”

“Me, too,” Lance admitted. “He’s just an asshole like that.”

Keith blinked in surprise. “He…actually makes you angry? But you’re always so calm.”

“Trust me, I hate his guts. He makes me want to go batsh*t insane on him.”

Keith hummed. “I’d pay to see that,” he admitted. The few times he’d seen Lance angry, truly angry, were things he’d never forget. Keith’s anger was always present, simmering beneath the surface like a bed of hot coals. Lance’s anger was more like a volcanic eruption. Slow to build, but when it was finally released…the results were catastrophic.

He considered himself lucky that he had never been on the receiving end of an angry Lance. The thought was nearly as terrifying as an angry Hunk.

Bringing the news of Lotor using their practice space to the rest of the cast did not go over well.

After having to quiet down Pidge and Adam’s steady stream of swearing, and Hunk’s panicked rambling of what they should do, Lance stepped forward, glancing at Allura for permission to speak.

“It doesn’t matter that we don’t have a stage,” Lance said, addressing the team. He was still holding Keith’s hand. “We’re the best theater group in the area; we don’t need a stage. We’ll get our sets, and our costumes, and we’ll perform somewhere else. Hell, we’ll perform in the hallway if we have to!” He looked around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes. “We have a chance to make it big. And I’m not giving up on that chance.”

He stepped back and sat down. Hunk started clapping, and Keith squeezed his boyfriend’s hand.

Allura stepped forward. “Thank you, Lance. Let’s get going! We have a lot of work to do to prepare a new performance venue!”

They found a place at the old elementary school. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was what they had. Hunk drove his big gold pickup truck, with all the sets neatly stacked in the back. Shiro drove his and Keith’s red-and-black car, with most of the costumes in the back. Keith rode with Lance, Pidge, Romelle, and Allura in his huge blue family minivan. Adam rode with Shiro, of course, and Shay with Hunk.

They arrived and set up, just the way they had practiced for nearly six months. It was a long road, but…now they were here. For better or for worse, it all ended tonight.

There was a surprising crowd, with Zarkon and his family sitting in the very front row. Not intimidating at all.

Keith, who was grudgingly playing Spot Conlon (“You guys are so alike!” Pidge had cackled gleefully,) watched from the wings as Lance and Adam began the play as Jack Kelly and Crutchie. Even though Lance had been so enthusiastic about being the latter, he played the main role perfectly, putting all his emotion into the part.

Keith may have been a little biased.

Adam did well with Crutchie, too, even though he was nearly the polar opposite from the character. He was a good actor, though; if Keith hadn’t known Adam was actually the sarcastic little sh*t that he was, he never would have guessed, watching him laugh and fill such a light-hearted, sweet character role so easily.

The first musical number rolled around; Jack singing about his dreams of leaving New York forever. Lance’s soft voice echoed around the room in an almost ethereal effect, and Keith could only watch him as he performed.

The performance went on without a hitch, except for that time when Les (Pidge) accidentally kicked one of the Delancey brothers (Hunk) in the kneecap. Poor Hunk doubled over, wheezing and clutching his knee; as the rest of the group moved offstage, Hunk hobbled after, making a show of grabbing his knee and limping.

By the end, Keith felt dead on his feet; acting and singing were both exhausting enough on their own, but put together, it was like running a full marathon.

But it was the good kind of exhaustion as Keith stood on the stage, bowing with his fellow cast members, his family, amongst the wild cheers and screams. There was something so rewarding about putting so much work into a result that so many people enjoyed.

The after-party went about as it usually did. Pidge was wandering around, arms full of snack food, an entire giant muffin between her teeth. Adam was currently flirting in a drink chugging contest with Shiro, who was oblivious as always. Hunk was cheerfully serving food to everyone, and Lance and Romelle were causing mischief as usual. Keith and Allura sat back, fondly watching their partners enjoy themselves.

The past few weeks had been hard. Stress levels were high, tensions between cast members ratcheting higher with every approaching day. Around performance time, it was more common to hear people snapping at each other or huffing in annoyance; stress made it much harder to get along with each other.

Now, though, it was a release. Weeks and months of stress were gone, and all that was left was giddy relief. Keith had once heard Shiro call it a “performance high,” and the description fit.

Allura’s phone chimed, and she quickly scanned the screen, blue eyes moving back and forth. Then she gasped and leapt to her feet.

“We did it! Zarkon approved!”

The room erupted into wild cheering. Keith couldn’t stop smiling; his cheeks were beginning to hurt. Lance threw his arms around Keith’s neck, laughing wildly and pressing a sloppy kiss to Keith’s cheek.

Romelle and Allura hugged, and Shiro went around, clapping everyone on the back and congratulating them like the upperclassman that he was. After going around, Shiro laughed gleefully and swung Adam up into a huge hug.

After a moment, both boys stepped away, blushing wildly, and Keith and Lance exchanged an amused look.

It seemed some things would never change.

Chapter 3: Gleam and Glow

Chapter Text

This is the story of how I died.

It’s actually a very fun story! You’ve got flying lions, lovely space princesses-

Lance.

Fine, fine.

Anyway, the truth is, the story isn’t even mine. This is the story of a boy named Keith. And it starts with the sun. A drop of golden light fell from the heavens, a gift from the ancient gods.

And from this drop of sun grew a glowing golden flower. According to legend, it had the ability to heal the sick and injured.

Unfortunately, someone had found it and was using it for their own. Honerva. AKA world’s number one motherfu-

Lance!

-mbler. Motherfumbler.

Anyway, time passed, and a kingdom grew across the sea. It was ruled by a beloved queen and her son, the crown prince.

But the queen was about to have a baby. And she was sick. Really sick. She didn’t have much time left, for herself or for her unborn son.

And that’s when people go looking for miracles.

In this case, a magic glowing flower.

And so enters Honerva, the, er…bad guy. Don’t give me that look, I didn’t say it! Anyway, she wanted to take all the flower’s powers for her own. She used it to stay alive for nearly a thousand years.

And all she had to do was sing a special song. She sings, she turns young, this lady is seriously creepy.

But the people found the flower, and Honerva went into hiding. The magic healed the queen, and a prince was born. A beautiful, healthy little boy, with hair the color of flames. The prince.

I’ll give you a hint.

That’s Keith.

For a moment, everything was perfect.

But then that moment ended.

Honervabroke into the castle, made it past the guards, and stole the child. And then she disappeared.

The kingdom searched and searched, with Shiro, the crown prince, and Keith’s older brother, at the very head of the search parties. But they never saw Keith again.

Because deep within the forest, in a hidden tower, Honerva raised the boy as her own.

Just as singing had activated the powers of the golden flower, so it did with Keith’s hair, as long as it was never, ever cut. And so Honerva kept her new magic flower locked up in the tower, where he would never be found by the outside world. Where he would stay until she finally drained him dry of any power or life.

But the walls of that tower couldn’t hide everything. Because every year, Keith’s family and the kingdom released thousands of floating lanterns into the sky in hope that one day…

their lost prince would return.

Lance skidded over the roof, his boots sliding over the shingles. With a soft yelp, he grabbed hold of the railing before he went over the edge. On his other side, Rolo snickered.

“Watch yourself, McClain. You might just end up as a grease spot on the ground.”

Lance shrugged easily, stepping away from the edge once he regained his balance. “I told you, Rolo: I never fall.”

“You came pretty close that time,” Nyma remarked.

“Let’s go,” Pidge called, waving an arm.

Lance bounded across the roof alongside them, enjoying the feel of the rising sun on his arms and face.

They crested the rise, and Lance’s eyes widened.

“I could get used to a view like this,” he murmured. He stepped back, crossing his arms. “Yep, I’m used to it. Guys, I want a castle.”

“If we do this job,” Romelle reminded him, “you can get your own castle.”

Five minutes later, Lance and his companions sprinted madly across the castle rooftops, hearing the sounds of pursuit coming from far behind.

“Can you picture me with a castle of my own?” Lance yelled as he leapt over a short wall and kept running. “I mean, I certainly can! Oh, the things we’ve seen and done, and it’s only eight in the morning! People, this is a very big day!”

“This is a big day, Kos,” Keith murmured, smoothing the dog’s ears. “I’m going to ask her.”

Kosmo nuzzled into his hand, asking for more scratches, and Keith obliged; most times, the dog was his only companion for days on end. It had taken nearly two years of begging from Keith before Honerva finally brought him a playmate, but the two had developed a deep bond.

The tower in which Keith and his mother lived was in a secluded patch of forest that he assumed was far away from any kind of civilization. The only parts of the outside world he could see was the small valley where the tower stood. As a young child he’d spent hours sitting at the window, scanning the ground below, taking in every detail of the little valley. Now, he could probably walk the valley floor in his sleep.

If Mother ever let him out.

“Keith! Let me in!” Honerva’s voice made Kosmo’s ears perk up, and Keith stood, groaning as his joints popped.

Crossing to the window, he gathered his long train of golden orange hair and lowered it to the ground outside.

Honerva made a loop in the hair and stepped in, and Keith hauled her up. He’d built up quite a bit of muscle from lifting his mother up and down, and now he could do so easily.

“Welcome home, Mother,” Keith said, stepping back to give her room to step inside.

“Oh, Keith,” Honerva murmured, stroking his hair the way she always did, “I don’t know how you do that every day. It looks exhausting!”

“It’s not too hard now,” Keith admitted. It had taken some time, but now he was used to it. “Listen, I was wondering-”

Honerva breezed past him, shedding her cloak. “Oh, I’m so run down from that journey! Keith, dear, would you sing for me? Then we can talk.”

“Oh. Of course, Mother.” Keith settled in front of her, and she drew out the hairbrush.

He began to sing, and the room lit up with the gentle, fiery glow of his hair. The sensation of the brush running through his hair lulled him into a trance, and so it was a shock when he finished the incantation and Honerva’s hand stilled.

Jolting himself from the trance, Keith turned to face her.

“Listen, I was wondering…tomorrow’s my birthday, and I was wondering if-”

“Stop, that can’t be right,” Honerva interjected with a puzzled frown. “Your birthday was last year.”

“They-they’re kind of an annual thing,” Keith grumbled, and Honerva sighed.

“Really, Keith, enough with the mumbling! You know how much I hate it!” Her demeanor changed, and she patted his head. “I’m joking, dear, you’re adorable.”

“I want to see the floating lights,” Keith blurted, making the most of the break in conversation.

Honerva hummed. “You mean the stars,” she murmured. “Would you like another stargazing night?”

“No.” Keith rose and crossed to the curtains, which he switched aside to reveal one of the paintings he’d done a few years ago. It was a dazzling array of stars, shimmering silver dots scattered across a midnight blue sky. “I’ve studied stars, and they always follow a pattern. They’re constant. But the lights…they only show up on my birthday. Only my birthday. And I can’t help but feel…like they’re meant for me.”

A strange expression crossed Honerva’s face, but before Keith could decipher it, it was gone.

“I need to see them, Mother,” Keith cried, letting the curtain fall closed. “In person. I have to know what they are.” His voice was desperate as he stepped toward her, arms held out beseechingly.

“I’ve already told you, pet,” Honerva sighed, rubbing her temple. “The outside world is dangerous. There are criminals, thieves, murderers. Men worse than any fairy-tale monster.”

“I know, but-”

“No!” Honerva rarely raised her voice, but whenever she did it was terrifying. “You will not leave!”

Keith shrank back, clutching Kosmo’s ruff; the dog’s soft fur kept him grounded, even as Mother loomed over him.

Then she sighed, and she was just his mother again, rubbing her temple. “I’m sorry, dear,” she murmured. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“I understand,” Keith whispered, feeling the disappointment curdle in his gut. “I…guess I don’t want it that badly.”

“What would you like for your birthday, dear?” Honerva asked, lifting her head.

Keith hesitated. “The…the paint you got me a few years ago. The paint made from the shells?”

“That is a very long trip, Keith,” Honerva pointed out. “Almost three days’ time!”

“I just…thought it would be better than the stars,” Keith murmured.

Honerva sighed. “Very well. I will leave in the morning. Are you sure you’ll be all right while I’m away?”

“I’ll be okay, Mother. I have Kosmo to protect me.”

“All right. I will see you in three days.”

It was a gorgeous morning in the woods as Lance and his companions raced through the woods, leaping over logs and weaving through trees.

They stopped, all gasping for breath; Lance sagged against a tree, Pidge and Romelle sank to the ground, and Rolo and Nyma hunched over, hands on their knees.

Then Lance caught sight of something white, and he froze, straightening to his full height. Wanted posters.

“Oh, no no no no no,” he murmured, pulling his own from the tree. “This is bad, this is very very bad, this is so very ba-”

“What is?” Rolo broke through his panicked ramblings, sounding annoyed.

Lance showed him the picture, pointing. “They just can’t get my nose right!”

Nyma raised a delicate brow. “Who cares?”

“Me!” Lance complained. “I care!”

“Guys, we’ve got company!” Romelle rose to her feet, Pidge right after.

Through the trees, Lance caught sight of Adam, the head of the palace guard, and the crown prince’s boyfriend, though most people didn’t know that.

“Stop, thieves!” Adam yelled, spurring his horse in their direction, his soldiers close behind.

An arrow shot past Lance’s nose, and Pidge screamed.

sh*t.

The arrow had grazed her calf, leaving a deep cut that oozed blood. Hauling the short girl onto his back, Lance took off into the woods, the satchel and its precious cargo bumping against his side with every step. Pidge hissed and cursed in his ear as her wound was jostled, and Lance tightened his grip with a silent apology, hitching her up higher on his back.

Romelle was running at his side, silent on her feet; up ahead, Rolo and Nyma were much louder, crashing through the branches without a care in the world.

“We’re nearing the crossroads,” Romelle huffed, her cheeks red with exertion.

“Take Pidge and go,” Lance ordered. “I’ll draw them off with the others.”

Pidge tightened her hold on Lance’s shoulders. “What about you?”

“I’ll meet you there, okay? I promise.”

Romelle took Pidge, and with a final backward glance, departed into the woods. One guard peeled off to go after them, but Lance knew he wouldn’t be able to catch Romelle, even if she was carrying an injured Pidge.

Lance, Rolo and Nyma ran together, sprinting through the woods, Adam’s shouts growing closer. It didn’t really work all that well, running away from mounted guards.

Especially since Adam was so quiznacking clever. The guards had herded the three criminals into a small valley, with cliffs on three sides that stood about twice as tall as Lance.

“Boost me up!” Lance cried, turning to Rolo and Nyma. “I’ll pull you up!”

“Give us the satchel first,” Nyma said, holding out a hand.

“We’ve got them now, men!” Adam and his soldiers were closing in, their horses frothing at the mouths.

“Wha-after all we’ve been through together, you guys still don’t trust me?”

Nyma and Rolo both fixed him with an identical flat stare.

Lance sighed. “Ouch.” Slowly, he unslung the satchel and gave it to Rolo.

Clambering up onto the man’s shoulder, Lance discreetly slipped the strap out from around Rolo’s body. He slid onto solid ground, glancing back at his companions.

“Now help us up, pretty boy,” Rolo grouched, crossing his arm.

Lance smirked. “Sorry. My hands are full.” He held up the satchel, enjoying how Rolo’s expression went from bafflement to confusion to anger in the span of a second.

“MCCLAIN!” Rolo’s furious bellow echoed through the forest as Lance sprinted on. The other guards would probably be busy with Nyma and Rolo, but Adam would probably come after Lance. The guy hated leaving loose ends, and right now that’s what Lance was.

I need a place to hide.

He never would have noticed it if he was anyone else. If he hadn’t spent his whole life as a thief, trained by experience to see the things that nobody else could.

But because he was Lance McClain, thief and criminal extraordinaire, he noticed the cave, concealed by a curtain of hanging vines. He ducked inside, holding his breath as Adam galloped past a few moments later on his horse. The hoofbeats faded, and Lance exhaled.

The captain would circle back, he knew. Lance would need to lie low for a few hours before he dared leave again.

Finding that the cave went farther back than he had initially thought, Lance shrugged and began to follow it. He had nothing better to do, after all. Why not explore a little?

He was not expecting it to open up into a small valley, with a waterfall and towering cliffs on all sides. And he definitely wasn’t expecting the tower.

It stood in the middle of the clearing, like a hidden beacon. Made from what looked like stone and wood, it was a single, freestanding tower with no visible door or opening that Lance could see except for a large window at the very top.

Looks easy enough. There were plenty of jutting stones for handholds, and no doubt there was food and a place to sleep at the top, which was incentive enough. Lance wouldn’t be able to get back to the Lion’s Den today, which meant none of Hunk’s delicious cooking.

It didn’t take him too long to scale the tower; it wasn’t as tall as he’d initially thought, and the stones were rough and easy to grip.

He reached the window and clambered inside; the room was blessedly cool, and blessedly empty.

Lance sighed in relief, glancing down at his satchel. “Alone at last.”

He didn’t even see the blow coming.

Keith stared down at the intruder, eyes wide. He’d seen the man climbing the tower, and had grabbed the nearest weapon he could find, which happened to be a frying pan. He’d cracked it over the intruder’s head, and now here he stood, wondering if he’d accidentally killed the guy.

Kosmo growled warily, fur bristling; Keith stared at his face, eyes wide in realization. He didn’t look much older than Keith himself. Soft waves of brown hair brushed against his cheeks, and his skin was a deep tan.

Then his eyes shot open, and Keith smacked him with the frying pan again.

When he opened his eyes again, he was tied to a chair. Lance struggled, but the knots were tight. And apparently he was tied up withhair.

But then someone had dropped from the ceiling, someone with a low, mistrustful voice. And when he'd stepped out into the light...

Lance had almost mistaken him for an angel. The long, flowing hair that was the color of flames, the smooth skin, the piercing violet eyes.

Maybe that was why Lance had agreed so quickly. Maybe that was why he didn't walk away. He told himself it was because he was tied up, because Keith had blackmailed him into it.

But Lance didn't think it would have made a difference either way.

Lance grumbled to himself as he clambered down the side of the tower. First, he’s kidnapped by some guy in a tower who stole his satchel. Then, he’s drafted into taking said guy to go see some pretty floaty lights, so that he could get his satchel back.

Just his luck.

“You coming, blondie?” he called up as he kept climbing.

“It’s not blonde,” Keith murmured to himself, watching Lance climb down. It was nerve-wracking, leaving home for the first time ever.

But if he didn’t take this chance now, Mother would never let him leave. He’d stay here forever.

So he took the chance, and he leapt.

“We’re not headed to the city,” Keith noticed, glancing at Lance.

The other stretched lazily, arms reaching high above his head. His tunic rode up, revealing a strip of smooth brown skin, and Keith had to tear his eyes away.

“I’ve got something to do first,” Lance said easily. “Gotta talk to some people so they don’t think I’ve been arrested.”

Keith snorted at that; he didn’t trust Lance as far as he could throw him, and the fact that his friends might think he was arrested just solidified that fact.

The place they were stopping at turned out to be a small cafe, on the very outskirts of town. A cheerful sign out front read, “The Lion’s Den,” with a hand-painted blue lioness pacing around the words.

Inside, it was a small, cramped tavern-like space, crowded with people who looked like they belonged in a prison.

“Lance! You made it!” A tall girl came forward, her blonde braids nearly reaching her waist.

“Hey, Romelle! Sorry it took me so long, I kind of…had to take a detour.” Lance glanced at Keith as he said that, raising his brows a bit.

Romelle laughed, grabbing Lance’s hands. “Come on, let’s get you and your friend some food!”

“He’s not my-oh, never mind.” Keith sighed; Romelle was already pushing through the crowd.

Keith glanced back at the door, and saw two men standing there. One was holding what looked like a wanted poster, pointing in Keith and Lance’s direction. The other nodded and slipped outside.

Keith’s gut clenched. Something wasn’t right.

“Lance!” A cheerful voice boomed. A boy about Keith’s age stepped around from behind the counter, wearing an apron. He wrapped Lance up in a huge bear hug. “You’re okay!”

Lance laughed and clapped the guy on the back. “I gotta breathe, man!”

The boy released him, still beaming. “I know just what to fix you,” he said cheerfully.

“You’re the best, Hunk,” Lance said seriously. “I don’t deserve you.”

Hunk laughed and moved behind the counter to cook.

“You’re new here,” a voice said in Keith’s ear. He jumped, turning to see a very short girl grinning at him. “Did Lance kidnap you? I didn’t think he’d do that, but I don’t know how else he got a date.”

Keith blinked. “No, I…kinda kidnapped him. Not for that reason, though.”

The girl cackled. “Oh, this is awesome! I’m never going to let this one go!” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Pidge, by the way.”

He shook her hand. “Keith.”

Pidge grinned evilly. “Do you want to throw things at Lance with me?”

Yep, I like her, Keith decided.

sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t! Lance raced through the tunnels, Keith at his side. The sounds of pursuit were steadily growing louder.

He should have known that Adam had put a bigger reward on his head. He should have known that someone would have gone to fetch the guards.

But he hadn’t known. And now they raced through the tunnels, hopefully far enough ahead that they could make it to the city alive.

Keith tripped on his hair with a frustrated cry, and Lance bundled it into his arms, gathering the flame-colored locks into a pile before sprinting on.

The sounds of pursuit faded as they ran, and Lance slowed to a walk.

Keith was breathing heavily, but he still kept up easily, carrying his own bundle of hair as well.

Seriously, why was there so much of it?

“Thanks,” Lance murmured when the silence got to be too much. “For…for watching my back back there.”

Keith shrugged. “I need a guide,” he said bluntly. “You’re not much use to me dead or imprisoned.”

Lance huffed out a laugh. “Well, even so. Thanks.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Why…why do you want to see these lights so badly, anyway? Couldn’t you have just…gone on your own?”

Keith hesitated. “I…I never knew how to ask,” he said finally. “My mother shut me down every time, so…going like this was my only choice.”

Lance glanced at Keith from the corner of his eye, seeing him in a new light. Maybe they weren’t so different, after all.

Of course, Adam had to ruin the moment.

“McClain! We’ve got you now!”

Lance yelped in a very manly way before dragging Keith into a run. They sprinted out into open sunlight, skidding to a stop at the top of the dam.

Oh sh*t.

Lance was officially hating this. After a wild chase through the dam, he and Keith were trapped in a cave. And it was slowly filling with water.

It was cold as ice, but Lance ignored the sensation as he dove, trying to find an opening. He pounded on the stone walls in the pitch darkness, desperately searching for a way out.

Lance surfaced with a gasp, already shivering from cold as he pushed himself up beside Keith, where the ground was highest. The water was already up to their chests and rising faster.

Keith, too, tried to dive, but Lance pulled him up.

“It’s no use,” he said softly. Resigned. “It’s too dark to see anything down there.” He didn’t want to die like this. Drowning, in the dark, with no light or air or hope.

“This is all my fault,” Keith murmured, his voice echoing off the narrow walls. “I never should have left.” His voice broke on the last word, and he swallowed. “I-I’m so sorry, Lance.”

“Alejandro,” Lance murmured, staring ahead.

“W-What?” Keith wiped his eyes, staring at Lance.

“My real name,” Lance said, not looking at Keith. “It’s Alejandro. Just thought…somebody should know.”

“My hair glows when I sing,” Keith replied.

Lance hadn’t been expecting that. “What?”

“My hair glows when I sing,” he repeated, staring at Lance, his eyes wide. The water had reached their chins, but Keith inhaled and began to sing. His voice was a little unsteady, a little hoarse as he tried to stay above water, but it froze Lance in place anyway. His head bumped up against the ceiling, and Lance inhaled what was probably his last lungful of air. And then the water closed over their heads.

For a moment, all was dark. Then light. Golden, red-orange light flowed from Keith’s scalp to the very ends of his hair, illuminating the dark cave with warm light.

Lance gaped as Keith’s eyes opened; they, too, glowed gold. Keith gestured to where a cluster of rocks were; a way out.

Shoving aside his shock, Lance swam forward alongside Keith, their hands desperately scrabbling at the rocks as the glow faded and the air ran out…

The fire couldn’t possibly be big enough. Lance huddled in his clothes, wishing they would dry out faster. He clutched his hand to his chest, trying to ignore the sharp stinging; he must have cut himself on the rocks.

“You’re hurt.” Keith’s voice was blunt, and his eyes unreadable.

“It’s fine,” Lance said. “Just a scratch.”

Keith tugged on his elbow, and Lance hissed as the wound was jostled. “Doesn’t sound like ‘just a scratch.’ Let me see. I can help.”

Grudgingly, Lance held out his hand. He was surprised at how gentle Keith’s touch was, barely moving his arm as he curled his fingers around Lance’s wrist.

He slowly, gently began to wrap his hair around the cut.

“Uhh…” Lance started, but Keith shushed him.

A pause. Then, “You’re being awfully cryptic as you wrap your magic glow-ey hair around my injured hand,” Lance said, raising a brow.

Keith sighed. “Just…don’t freak out, okay?”

And he began to sing.

Lance had already heard him sing, in the cave. But somehow this was much more intimate, even though they were farther apart than they’d been as the water closed in. Keith’s voice was soft, flowing as easily as the light in his hair. Lance watched the light seep down his long trail of hair, looped over the log until it curled around his hand. He gasped in surprise when the hair wrapped around his hand grew warm, pleasantly so.

Keith finished the song, his voice fading into nothing. All was silent as Lance, with trembling fingers, slowly unraveled the hair from around his hand. He froze, eyes widening and jaw dropping.

Keith clamped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t freak out,” he hissed.

Lance blinked rapidly and nodded. Keith released him, and Lance exhaled.

“Holy sh*t,” he breathed. “I’m not freaking out, but how in the hell does it do that?”
Keith shrugged, moving away to sit. Some part of Lance wanted him to come back, wanted him closer. He told that part to shut up.

“I don’t really know,” Keith admitted finally. “I’ve been able to do that all my life. Mother says that…when I was a baby, people tried to cut my hair, to take the power for themselves. But once it’s been cut…” Keith pulled his hair back, revealing the short streak of black that ran through. “It turns black and loses its power. Gifts like this…they have to be protected. That’s why Mother…why I…”

“Why you never left the tower,” Lance finished softly.

Keith nodded. “Yeah.”

Something about the story didn’t feel right. He didn’t think Keith was lying, no, but something about the fact that his mother was the only one who knew about these powers, and had been hiding him away his whole life…it was just weird.

“So, Alejandro, huh?” Keith asked, raising his eyebrows.

Lance shrugged. “Yeah. I’d tell you why I changed my name, but the whole ‘orphan boy’ story’s kind of a downer…”

Keith scooted a little closer, listening intently.

Lance sighed. “There was this book that I’d read to the younger kids at the orphanage. It was about this legendary hero named Lance. You know, swashbuckling rogue, richest man alive.”

“Was he a thief, too?” Keith didn’t sound accusatory, just curious.

The ghost of a smile crossed Lance’s face. “No. He had all the money in the world. He could do anything he wanted. For a kid who had nothing…that sounded kind of nice.”

Keith hummed in understanding; the silence that stretched was comfortable.

“Just…don’t tell anyone this, okay? It could totally ruin my reputation. You should still call me Lance, too; I’m used to answering to that name, now.”

Keith chuckled. “Well, we wouldn’t want your reputation being ruined, now would we?”

“A fake reputation is all a man has,” Lance retorted, but it didn’t really sound like arguing. It was more comfortable, more familiar than that.

After a long moment of silence, Keith spoke again. “For…for the record, I like ‘Alejandro’ much better than ‘Lance.’”

Lance stared in surprise, then his lips twitched upward at the corners. “Well, you’d be the first,” he admitted. “But…thanks.”

“Wow,” Keith whispered. He’d never seen so many people all in one place before. The city was packed with people, bustling about and chattering with each other. It was loud, but it was alive. The tower had never had this much life in it.

Someone yanked hard on Keith’s hair, and he turned, grumbling in annoyance. People weren’t noticing the long train of hair, and were stepping on it.

Lance was gathering the long, heavy locks into his arms, and Keith stooped to help. It was his hair, after all.

They got a few weird looks, walking through the streets with two huge armfuls of hair. Then Lance caught sight of a group of children, both boys and girls, sitting by a fountain and chattering excitedly as they braided each other’s hair.

Lance put his fingers to his lips and whistled, gesturing to Keith’s hair when the kids looked up.

So that was how Keith found himself kneeling by the fountain as the children laughed and twined his hair in a thick braid that only barely trailed the ground. Lance looked on, watching Keith laugh and twirl, watching his thick braid flare out when he moved.

He seemed to glow in the noonday sun, like there was a miniature sun beneath his skin.

The festival was in full swing as they moved farther into the city; people bought flags, and painted designs in the main square. They passed a mural depicting the queen and her two children, and Keith paused.

The crown prince stood beside his mother, proudly wearing his armor and crown; the queen, too, wore armor, but she held a child in her arms. A tiny baby boy with red-orange hair that seemed to glow like fire in the sunlight…

Something in the very back of Keith’s mind wanted him to keep looking at the mural, to keep thinking, but Lance was pulling on his arm and leading him into the main square, and Keith couldn’t help but follow with a surprised laugh.

Lance watched the artists work with wide eyes; grinning, Keith knelt by a clean patch of ground and got to work, politely asking if he could borrow an elderly man’s paints. The man beamed, twirling his bright orange mustache.

“Of course! Enjoy yourself!” He winked at Lance over Keith’s shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

Lance couldn’t even bring himself to splutter in surprise and denial; he was too busy watching Keith.

He uncapped the paints, studying the colors with a thoughtful frown. And then he painted.

It was like watching the sea. The sunrise, or a cloud move across the sky. He moved with sure, confident strokes, stretching the color across the ground in a swirling, twisting golden sun; it seemed to shine in the sunlight, but it didn’t even compare to Keith.

His hands were covered in paint up to his elbows, his cheeks flecked with color. His braid was coiled out of the way as he knelt over the paint, swiping a strip of color with the brush.

Keith glanced up at Lance, then, and grinned widely.

Something in Lance’s chest thudded, and he couldn’t look away.

He was in trouble for sure.

The boat glided smoothly over the water, leaving a trail of ripples in its wake. Keith wrapped his arms around himself, gazing out at the other boats.

“You okay?” Lance asked quietly.

“I’m…I’m terrified,” Keith admitted softly.

Lance didn’t say anything, just waited.

“I’ve been looking out my window all my life,” Keith murmured. “Dreaming about what it would feel like, when those lights rise into the sky.” He hesitated. “What if…it’s not everything I thought it would be?”
“It will be,” Lance promised softly.

“And what if it is?” Keith cried, hugging himself tighter. “What do I do after that?”

“Well, that’s the good part, I guess…you find a new dream.”

Keith hummed, staring into the water with his shoulders bunched up around his ears. His reflection looked just how he felt; a scared little boy, out of his element, in a world he knew almost nothing about.

Then he noticed the golden glow, the small orange dots that definitely weren’t stars.

Keith snapped his head up with a gasp, gazing at the sky. The lantern had come from the palace, he knew; it was the only building tall enough for the lantern to have reached such a height in such a short amount of time.

He stared up at it, watching it flicker in the darkness. A single solitary light.

But then the glow intensified. Not like a bonfire, or a flash of light. It was a warm, golden glow, spreading across the horizon as hundreds, thousands of flickering lanterns floated upward. It was like a fire in the hearth. It was warmth, it was light. It was home.

Keith stared, eyes huge as the glow spread across the sky. The lanterns drifted lazily through the air, some floating higher, and others drifting lower, toward the boats. He was dimly aware of Lance at his side, watching the lanterns as well, but Keith couldn’t tear his eyes away. The lanterns reached the sea, spreading out overhead and some drifting so close to the boat that Keith could have reached out and touched one. He gazed about in wonder, hands pressed to his mouth.

It was so much more than he’d ever imagined.

Keith watched the lanterns. And Lance watched Keith.

He turned, finally, violet eyes locking with blue. They were close, closer than Keith had realized. He didn’t want to move away.

His gaze dropped to Lance’s lips and back up to his eyes; how had he not noticed the flecks of brown in them? They were all he could see as Lance slowly, oh so slowly leaned forward, his hands curling around Keith’s.

Keith tilted his head, not daring to breathe as Lance’s lips paused, so close to his own that he could feel Lance’s breath.

Then Lance stopped, and pulled away slightly.

“I-Is everything okay?” Keith whispered, not wanting to break the spell.

“Y-yeah, everything’s fine,” Lance said, moving away. His hands slipped from Keith’s, and he mourned the warmth the other’s grip had brought. “Just…gotta take care of something.”

Lance left Keith in the boat. He’d be worried, and confused, probably, but Lance didn’t want him to see Rolo and Nyma.

More accurately, he didn’t want them to see him. They’d use Keith, Lance knew. They’d sell him to the highest bidder, or worse.

He turned the corner, and ran smack into Rolo’s chest. Lance backpedaled, flashing his signature grin.

“Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you two! Just wanted to say that the crown’s all yours, you can split the money between the two. It’s been fun, but I’m gonna miss ya-”

He bumped into Nyma, who scowled at him wordlessly.

“Still holding out on us, eh, McClain?” Rolo sneered.

“What?” Lance had no idea what they were talking about. Unless…

“We heard you found something,” Rolo said, approaching Lance with a menacing smile. “Something much more valuable than a crown.” He paused, sneering at Lance. “We want him, instead.”

Keith sat up when he saw Lance coming back; he was just a shadow in the mist, growing clearer as he approached.

“Oh, you’re back,” Keith exhaled. “I…was starting to think you’d run out on me…” He trailed off when the shadow…split into two people. A man and a woman.

The man smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, more of a baring of teeth than anything else.

“He did.”

Keith reeled back in shock. “W-what? No, he-he wouldn’t.”

The man stepped back, gesturing to the side. “See for yourself.”

Keith warily stepped forward, eyes wide in disbelief. No. No, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t.

He’s a criminal, Keith. You seem to have forgotten that.

Then he saw the ship, sailing away from the island. With Lance at the helm.

“No,” Keith whispered, feeling something heavy settle in his gut. “Lance!” He shouted. “Lance!”

Lance didn’t react. He just kept sailing away.

“Fair trade,” the man crooned, “a crown, for a boy with the magic hair.”

Keith whirled, feeling panic claw up his chest.

The man approached, pulling out a large bag. “How much do you think someone would pay to stay young and healthy forever?”

Keith ran. The woman lunged to grab him, but he was too fast, and he sprinted away. He couldn’t run forever, though. It was an island, after all; they would catch him and then sell him to the highest bidder.

He’d thought…he’d thought Lance cared about him. Why did he betray Keith? Why would he? Had they forced him to? Blackmailed him into it?

Keith turned a corner and skidded to a stop. Towering rock formations fenced him in on all sides; Keith was trapped.

Then there was a heavy thud, and a grunt.

Keith whirled, heart pounding as his hands curled into fists. He wasn’t going anywhere-not without a fight.

Then Honerva’s voice echoed through the mist. “Keith!”

“Mother,” Keith whispered. He ran almost before he realized he was moving, bursting out into the clearing to see her standing over the unconscious bodies of the man and woman. She held a huge stick, but dropped it when she saw her son.

Keith let out something that sounded almost like a whimper and ran to her, throwing his arms around her neck. Honerva hugged him back, clutching at his clothes in relief.

“Oh, my precious son,” she whispered, running her hands over his hair. “All you all right? Are you hurt?” She pulled back, tilting his head this way and that.

“M-Mother, how did you-”

“I was so worried about you, dear,” Honerva explained. “I saw them attack you, and-oh, we must leave, before they wake up!”

She led him to another boat, a different one, and helped him climb in. As she began to row away, Keith cast one backwards glance at Lance, now just a tiny speck in the distance over the water.

“You were right, Mother,” he whispered, feeling his heart break. “You were right about everything.”

“I know, darling,” Honerva whispered, eyes glinting. “I know.”

It didn’t take long for Honerva to unravel the braid. It had taken the children nearly thirty minutes to pin it in place with the flowers, but Honerva took them all out in less than five. She combed Keith’s hair out with her fingers, letting it lay flat and smooth as always.
“There,” she said, smoothing over his hair. “It never happened. Now, wash up for dinner. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Keith said nothing, gripping the fabric of his trousers in a white-knuckled grip.

Honerva sighed. “I really did try, Keith. I tried to warn about what was out there!” Her voice was bitter as she spat out the next few words. “The world is dark, and selfish, and cruel. If it finds the smallest light…it destroys it.” She swished the curtains closed with a sharp snap. Her departing footsteps echoed down the stairs.

Keith slowly opened his fist, staring down at the crumpled piece of red fabric in his hand. Kosmo rested his head on Keith's lap, sighing heavily.

Dark, selfish, and cruel. Dark, selfish, and cruel. Bright paint spreading across the cobblestones, children laughing as they played with his hair. People smiling as they called out to each other across the way, a man with an orange mustache beaming as he painted alongside Keith, hands smeared with color. A girl with long silver hair smiling gently as she gave the children a huge bouquet of flowers-the very same flowers that were now scattered across Keith’s bedroom floor. Golden lights reflecting off the water, blue eyes gazing into his own. A dazzling smile, brighter than the sun.

She’s wrong.

Laying on his back, Keith spread out the small flag, gazing at the gold sun embroidered on the red background. If the world was as bad as Mother said it was…why did Keith want to go back? Why was his bedroom, his home, suddenly feeling so small, so…dark?

A mural baby, cradled by a mural queen. Mural red-gold hair. Mural violet eyes, gazing into his own like they shared a secret.

A lost prince from a palace. A lost boy from a hidden tower. Fiery hair. Violet eyes.

Suns. Golden suns, everywhere. In the depths of his memory, painted into the very walls of his bedroom. Golden suns. A woman’s smile. Gray eyes, overflowing with tears of happiness. Suns. Suns everywhere.

And suddenly…

Keith understood.

Honerva climbed the stairs, frowning. “Keith? What’s going on up there?”

Silence. With a glower, Honerva reached the top of the landing-

-and stepped back in surprise as Keith appeared in his doorway, swishing his curtains aside. He stared at her, his eyes wide, his chest heaving.

“Are you all right?” Honerva asked.

“I’m the lost prince,” Keith whispered.

“Speak up, Keith! You know how much I hate the mumbling!”

“I’m the lost prince!” Keith shouted, meeting her gaze. “Aren’t I?” His eyes blazed.

Honerva was silent, mute with shock.

Keith’s hands fell away from the curtain, and he stepped forward. “Did I mumble, Mother?” His lip curled. “Or should I even call you that?”

Honerva forced a chuckle. “Do you even hear yourself? You must be so tired from your journey-”

“It was you!” Keith cried, stepping toward her again. “It was all you!”

“Everything I did…” Honerva’s voice was low, dangerous. “...I did to protect you.”

Keith pushed past her, dashing down the stairs. “I’ve spent my entire life hiding from people who were trying to use my power…and I should have been hiding from you!”

“Where will you go?” Honerva snapped. “He won’t be there for you.”

Keith glowered at her, flames crackling in his hair. “What did you do to him?” His eyes were gold, glowing slightly-not from any magic healing power, but from anger. Fury.

“That criminal is to be hanged for his crimes,” Honerva spat. “It’s what he deserves.”

Keith’s eyes widened, and the flames in his hair flickered out. No.

Honerva chuckled, raising a hand to pat his head like she always did. “There, there, it’s all right. Everything is as it should be-”

“No!” Keith caught her wrist before she could touch his hair. “You were wrong about the world,” he hissed. “You’re wrong about him. And you’re wrong about me. And I will never let you use my hair again!” He shoved her back, and Honerva stumbled, catching herself on the table.

Keith backed away, glaring at the woman he had thought was his mother. Then he turned sharply on his heel and made his way to the window.

Behind him, Honerva struggled to his feet.

“You’re not leaving so easily, my flower,” she hissed.

Lance raced through the woods, urging the horse to go faster. His head spun with the past events; his friends from the Lion’s Den had come and busted him out of jail, then given him a horse. And now he was racing through the woods, somehow remembering the way.

The horse leapt over a log, and Lance dug his knees into its ribs. If he didn’t get there in time…

Keith would disappear. And Lance would never be able to find him again.

“Let’s see how fast you can run,” Lance murmured in the horse’s ear. The horse snorted in response and sped up.

They reached the valley, and Lance dismounted, sprinting over to the tower. It was dark and quiet; the feeling of wrongness wouldn’t go away.

“Keith!” Lance called. “Keith, let down your hair!”

No response. Lance swore and began to climb, his shaking hands gripping the stones and desperately pulling himself higher.

Then Keith’s hair burst from the window, unraveling to its full length. Relief nearly made Lance collapse; a burst of oh my God he’s okay, he’s okay making him go limp.

Then he remembered himself and took hold of the hair, climbing up as fast as he could. When he reached the top, Lance leapt inside.

“Keith!”

It was dark inside the tower, but not so dark that he couldn’t see Keith, tied to the railing, eyes huge with desperation. He made muffled sounds of panic behind the gag shoved in his mouth, and Lance realized too late that Keith was trying to warn him.

He moved, but not fast enough.

Pain shot through his abdomen, and he screamed as Honerva twisted the knife. It took everything he had to keep from passing out; black spots danced in his vision, but he blinked them away.

“Now look what you’ve done, Keith,” she murmured, enjoying the look of pure fear that passed over his face. Then Honerva yanked the knife out, and Lance’s knees buckled.

Keith watched with wide eyes as Lance moaned, pressing a hand to the wound; blood seeped between his fingers.

He tried to shout Lance’s name, but all that came out was a muffled cry.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Honerva crooned with a sharp grin. “Our secret will die with him.”

Keith couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lance, who was curling in on himself, his body trembling. Blood was pooling on the floor.

Just like paint.

“And as for us? We will go where nobody will ever find us again,” Honerva snarled, grabbing hold of Keith’s chain and yanking him toward the trapdoor.

Keith fought. For the first time in his life, he fought. No way in hell he was going to go easily.

“Keith, that’s enough!” Honerva bellowed, pulling hard on his chain. “Stop fighting me!”

Keith’s gag slipped from his mouth, and he shouted. “No! I won’t stop. For every minute of the rest of my life, I will never stop fighting to get away from you!” He paused, drawing in breath, listening to Lance’s shaky breaths and soft moans.

He continued, his voice breaking. “But…if you let me heal him…I’ll go with you.”

“No…no, Keith…” Lance cried out weakly, trying to move. God, why couldn’t he move?

“I’ll never run,” Keith whispered. “I’ll never try to escape. Just let me save him, and…and I’ll be yours. Forever.” His voice cracked. He had never been more afraid in his life. He wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this woman as possible.

But he couldn’t let Lance die.

Honerva unchained Keith, then locked Lance to the railing. He was too weak to resist. “Just in case you get any ideas,” she hissed in his face. Then she stepped back.

Keith rushed forward, brushing his hands over Lance’s cheeks, cradling his face. “L-Lance-”

Lance coughed, shuddering in pain.

Keith let out a choked sob. “I-I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “This is all my fault…”

“No, Keith,” Lance gasped, clutching at his hand.

“I promise, you’re gonna be okay, you just have to trust me.” Keith was babbling now, as he pushed his long hair up to Lance’s wound and gently pressed down.

“I…can’t let you do this,” Lance croaked, weakly trying to push Keith’s hair away.

“If I don’t, then you’ll die!” Keith cried. Tears filled his eyes, but he held them back. “I have to do this!”

He pushed Lance’s hands aside, arranging his hair onto the wound. Lance was too weak to stop him now.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Keith whispered, meeting Lance’s eyes. They were so, so blue, but growing dull. “I promise.”

He opened his mouth to sing, but Lance’s hand curled around the front of his shirt. “Wait…”

Keith paused.

Lance’s hand curled around a shard of glass, tightening until he felt it slice into his skin. The sharp prickles of pain helped keep him conscious; he mustered his strength, and as Keith began to lean forward, he moved.

The glass was so sharp it sliced through Keith’s hair with a soft snip. Keith gasped as the hair fell away, black bleeding over the color like spilled ink.

Honerva wailed. “What have you done? What have you done?” She dove forward, grasping at the long trails of hair, holding it to her body as the color-and the magic within-bled away. She shrieked with panic, and Kosmo, finally able to break down her bedroom door, bounded into the room. The dog leapt, planting both his front paws on her chest, and shoving her out the window.

Honerva screamed, withering and aging as she fell, and by the time she hit the ground…there was nothing but an empty cloak and a pile of dust.

Keith gasped, feeling where his hair ended just below his shoulders. Lance moaned, soft and breathless, and Keith lurched forward.

“Lance, no no no no no, look at me, okay?”

Lance coughed raggedly, eyes squeezed shut.

“Just look at me, okay? Y-you’re gonna be all right, just stay with me.” He held Lance’s hand to his head, to his hair. He knew it was useless, knew it was hopeless, but he didn’t care.

The words came as easily as they always had, but there was no warmth that followed. No rush of magic, no healing.

Only cold, empty nothing.

“Keith…” Lance whispered, eyes half-lidded.

“What?” It came out as more of a sob than a word; Keith cradled Lance in his arms, holding him close.

“You were my new dream.” It came out as an exhale, and Lance’s eyes fluttered shut.

Keith sobbed, pressing his lips to Lance’s hair. “And you were mine,” he whispered.

He felt when Lance’s final breath stirred his hair. He felt when his chest stilled beneath Keith’s hand.

And he sang. It wasn’t a song of healing this time. It was a song of raw, fresh grief, the kind that felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside out.

Heal what has been hurt

Change the fate’s design

Save what has been lost

Bring back what once was mine

What once was mine.

The last word came out as a sob, and Keith held Lance closer as the tears finally came. They streamed down his face, dripping onto Lance’s cheeks.

A golden glow. In Lance’s veins, through his still heart. The glow brightened, and Keith gasped, drawing back. Tendrils of light streamed from Lance’s body, stretching to light up the entire room. The light caressed Keith’s face as it poured from Lance’s wound much as the blood had only a minute earlier. A golden flower of pure light bloomed in Lance’s chest, the light intense and warm as a fire. Like home.

The glow faded away, like a breath of wind, leaving with one final brush of warmth against Keith’s face.

Beneath his hand, Lance’s heart began to beat again.

Blue eyes fluttered open.

Keith gasped. “Lance!”

Lance cracked a tiny smile. “Have I ever told you that I’ve got a thing for guys with black hair?”

Keith sobbed out a laugh, pulling Lance into a tight hug. “I can’t believe that’s the first thing you said,” he sniffled.

Lance’s hands brushed over Keith’s face, cupping his cheeks. Wiping away his tears. Then his lips were brushing against Keith’s.

Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck, pulling him in closer. Lance tilted his head, slotting their lips together, and Keith sank into the kiss. It tasted like tears. It tasted like Lance.

And it felt like home.

“I’m not ready for this,” Keith murmured, gripping the banister.

Lance squeezed his hands. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “Just breathe.”

Keith forced himself to inhale and exhale, and for a moment everything was okay. Then the doors were opening, and the crown prince and the queen were stepping out onto the balcony.

Keith could only stare, taking them in as they took him in.

Then the prince-Shiro, his brother, God, his brother-rushed forward, wrapping Keith up in a crushing hug.

Keith’s legs gave out, and the two brothers sank to the floor, holding each other tight. The queen threw her arms around both, pressing a kiss to Keith’s temple.

Lance watched, smiling as the family was reunited. Keith reached out and snagged Lance’s hand, dragging him into the embrace.

He was with his family. And everything was ok.

Well, you can imagine what happened next. The kingdom rejoiced! The prince had returned!

The party lasted for a week. I tell ya, these guys sure know how to celebrate! Honestly, I don’t remember most of it.

But what mattered was that Keith was home. He had a family. He was a prince, loved by all, who led the kingdom at his brother’s side.

And as for me…I stopped thieving. Got my life turned around. I know you’re wondering about the big question, though!

After years and years and years of Keith asking, I finally said yes!

Lance…

All right, fine. I asked him.

And we’re living happily ever after.

Yes, we are.

Chapter 4: you were a burst of color (and then my world turned gray)

Chapter Text

It was strange, really, the reasons why people did the things that they did. Why they listened to music, why they decorated their homes and living spaces. Why they searched all their lives for companionship, just to take the edge off the all-consuming loneliness.

Even when the pain ran deeper than the joy.

The first time Lance McClain saw in color, he was fifteen years old.

It was sudden and jarring. One moment, everything was in gray. The next, violet and black and red bled into his vision, each one a dizzying hit to the head. Other colors followed, seeping in from around the person who had triggered such a change.

Lance had panicked.

Why him?

Lance had run away, Hunk trailing after, his brow furrowed in concern.

Why was it him?

The violet and red stayed with him, seared behind his eyelids even when he tried to scrub the image away.

It was piercing.

It was haunting.

It was devastating.

It was beautiful.

The first time Keith Kogane saw in color, he was eighteen.

Still reeling from shock, from confusion, from elation.

He’d found Shiro, he’d found him, but something was wrong. He was different, he was strapped to a table by the people who should have been helping him, he was different.

But he was still Keith’s brother.

He’d readied himself to carry Shiro all the way back to his hoverbike. He’d put on so much muscle; he was heavy, almost too heavy. But Keith wouldn’t leave him here. Not for anything.

Then, a voice. Vaguely familiar, loud, obnoxious.

Someone was slipping beneath Shiro’s other arm, someone tall and lanky who was always at the corners of his vision.

Keith turned, met his eyes, and suddenly there was blue.

Blue, then brown, then tan, and then slowly, the off white and pale orange of the room around them.

Keith nearly fell over from the force of the change. He’d gone his whole life seeing nothing but blacks and grays and whites, and suddenly there was so much that he’d never seen, but was always there.

He’d reacted the only way he knew how with such a sudden, drastic change.

“Who are you?”

The other had reacted with indignant surprise. And Keith kept the conversation going, short and terse.

And all the while, his head spun, a wild blend of color and sensation that he had never known.

Everything was blue. The color stayed with him that night, sitting at the door, gazing out the window as Shiro and the others slept. It stayed there, behind his eyelids, burned into his mind where it would never leave.

Blue. Blue, blue, blue, blue.

When Allura had fallen into his arms, Lance had wished with every fiber of his being that she was the one.

It wasn’t unheard of or uncommon, having more than one soulmate.

Lance blatantly rejected the thought of being his. And so Lance had prayed to every god he didn’t believe in that he would be hers.

But even as he dreamed of silver hair, of jewel eyes and gleaming pink crescents, so he dreamed of violet and red.

It twisted in his subconscious, those tantalizing colors, with the knowledge that he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t like you, he never will, it’s a lost cause, you’re a lost cause

But despite those thoughts, those voices, the colors never disappeared.

And so Lance dreamed of violet and black, of white and red.

Red, red, red, red, red.

He was everywhere. The blue, the white, the brown, the tan. Always at the corners of Keith’s vision, always plaguing his mind when he was alone.

He’d always noticed him. The gray-toned cadet, somehow standing out from the sea of other gray-toned cadets. Even in grayscale, he was beautiful. He was everywhere. Keith couldn’t escape him, not even by going to space.

He didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.

Maybe both.

War was hard. War was messy. But there was joy to be had, up there in space. Warmth in the cold, light in the darkness. Family found among strangers, hope found in an endless war.

Shiro’s warm smile, his kind gray eyes, the warmth that came with his praise.

Hunk’s giant hugs, his booming laugh that Lance knew better than his own.

Pidge’s inquisitive nature, her sharp, mischievous grin. Honey eyes glassy with tears, engulfed in a hug because she’d been missing her family-her other family-a little too much.

Coran’s stories, his constant presence. His own grief, hidden behind a jovial mask. A kindred mourning soul, soldiering through life with a painted smile and a false laugh.

Allura’s seemingly boundless strength, her snorting giggles when Lance made her laugh, really laugh. The feel of his fingers in silver hair, braiding and combing as they watched bad Altean dramas together. The memories of doing the same with his other sisters, his blood sisters.

And red. Always, always red.

co*cky smirks that weren’t quite as antagonistic as they used to be. A rare smile, sent in his direction, that never failed to make his mind explode with violet and red and color. A double-edged sword, beautiful and dangerous as the wielder, cutting through enemy lines in wide sweeps.

And the red, the fiery, passionate,beautifulred that blessed haunted Lance's dreams, was punctuated by a name.

Keith. Keith, Keith, Keith, Keith.

It was strange and backward, being happy now. He was fighting every day, lining up to be the next casualty in an endless war.

Yet he had never been so happy.

Shiro wasn’t dead, he was alive and well and stronger than ever. He had changed, yes; he stared at nothing sometimes, and Keith or one of the others would need to gently bring him back from whatever dark place his mind had gone to. His arm ached, sometimes so badly that he could barely move. He woke Keith sometimes with his screams, echoing through the thin walls of the Castle.

But he was still Shiro. He was still the brother who had helped Keith see that he was more than an orphan kid with a temper. More than a grieving, lonely boy, lashing out at everything because that was the only thing he knew.

Pidge was a kindred spirit. They would sit sometimes, not speaking for hours, in comfortable, companionable silence. And when Pidge would sniffle, and her eyes would fill with silent tears, Keith would wrap his jacket around her and rub her back in soothing circles.

He’d never had a little sister, never experienced what it would be like, but he thought it might be something like this.

Hunk, of course, was kind to everyone, but that never made his hugs or smiles any lesser for it. He made desserts that he knew Keith liked, and would set them on the floor just outside the training deck on those nights when Keith couldn’t do anything else. He was always ready with a smile and a friendly pat on the back whenever Keith needed one.

Keith had once thought that Shiro was his only brother, but now he wasn’t so sure that was true anymore.

Allura was powerful. The way she could motivate the Paladins or an entire planet with a few words about duty and freedom, the way Keith instinctively sat up straighter when she entered a room because her entire countenance radiated queenly regality. The way she’d apologized for treating him harshly when she’d realized his heritage. The way she’d stood up for him whenever an alien diplomat questioned why is there a Galra here? You know you can’t trust it, why is it here, the way she refused to bow or bend to anything.

Coran was always, always laughing. He told Keith stories about Alfor, the previous Red Paladin, and how he wasn’t quite so different from Keith himself. He reenacted tales of all the times the other Paladins had to get Alfor out of a tight spot because he’d rushed in without thinking, much like Keith often tended to do. Sometimes he was the only one who could drag Keith away from the training deck, with a “Let’s get you some rest, son.”

Keith hadn’t had a father for nearly a decade. But now he was wondering if that, too, had changed.

And of course, there was Lance. Blue eyes, blue armor, blue beams of light. It was beautiful and terrifying, watching him shoot. He never hesitated, never missed. He was a soldier, a Paladin of Voltron. He brought the team together, made them into a family. His quips and snarky comments were less mean, and more playful. He laughed and smiled and joked, and it was like the sun. So bright that Keith couldn’t look at him directly for fear of being blinded, yet when he was gone it was too dark, too cold.

He was beautiful. He was terrifying. He was everything Keith ever wanted.

And the blue, the endless, limitless blue, seared behind Keith's eyelids, was swirling with a name.

Lance. Lance, Lance, Lance.

Even in the dark, there was blue. Even as Keith’s wrists ached, and the fear pounded through his veins, and his screams echoed through the metal hallways of the Galra cruiser, there was blue.

Even as Keith’s vision was overtaken by darkness and sinister Galra purple, there was blue, brushing the very edges of his subconscious.

It was the only thing keeping him sane, that gentle brush of blue. That promise, of we’re close, we’re coming, we’ll find you.

I’ll find you.

So he didn’t break. Even as the Galra commanders laughed and jeered in his face, and called him a “half-breed bastard,” and dug sharp metal into his skin, and whipped him bloody, he didn’t break.

There was blue, and there was purple, and there was darkness.

But then there was noise, and chaos and shouting and the ringing of alarms, and then there was the sound of a blaster powering up, of the lock to his cell door being blasted to bits. There was the door sliding open, and then there was blue.

Blue eyes on his, wide with a mixture of horror and relief. Blue armor, spattered with red and smeared with ash.

There was the sound of his cuffs being broken, and then arms around him, catching him as he fell.

There was a voice in his ear, cracked with exhaustion and relief.

Hey, there, Samurai.

He’d never heard anything more beautiful.

He was carried from the darkness, from the sinister purple light. From the pain, from the fear. And he was carried to his family.

And all the while, his vision was blue.

There was red. Only red. Even after he was gone, there was red.

Lance didn’t think it would ever leave him, that red.

Even when he was gone, the red pulsed in the back of his mind, throbbing with pain and fear and where are you, where are you, where are you?

And then he’d found him. Keith came out of the healing pod three days later, healthy and breathing and alive.

But that wasn’t the end.

His screams kept Lance awake when the Blue Paladin’s own didn’t. They all had nightmares, of course; war was messy, war was hard. But Lance couldn’t sleep, knowing that Keith couldn't, either.

Keith trained, harder and harder than before. The red was fighting, struggling to claw to the surface.

How could he come back from that? How could anyone?

The answer came when Keith’s screams once again jolted Lance awake. The red flared, with panic and pain and clawing, suffocating fear.

Lance ran from his room and down the hall, his bare feet smacking against the metal floor, not even noticing the chill against his skin.

He’d opened Keith’s door, half-expecting him to be on the floor, bleeding out from a horrible wound.

Instead, he sat in the bed, legs tangled in the sheets, chest heaving, eyes wild.

Lance had gently cupped his cheeks, stroking his cheekbones and softly coaxing him back, the way they all had to do with Shiro or each other sometimes.

He’d seen the moment the violet eyes returned to awareness, the moment Keith remembered he wasn’t in that cell anymore.

Keith’s fingers curled around his sleeves, his head dropping to Lance’s shoulder. His shoulders shook with silent sobs, and Lance had held him through it all.

He’d laid Keith down, gently tucking the sheets around him before rising to leave. Keith’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, and his soft, rough voice had barely penetrated the silence around them.

Stay. Please.

Lance had fallen asleep that night with Keith’s fingers still curled around his wrist. He’d woken up with an arm over Keith’s waist, the long, inky hair tickling his chin.

No nightmares had plagued either of them that night.

He didn’t know when it had begun. The comfort, the peace. Maybe it had started with that first night, when Keith had woken up screaming, to find blue blue blue blue, cupping his face and wiping away his tears. Maybe it had started in the days after, where Lance was the first one to reach Keith’s side when he froze up. Where he was the only one who could bring him back so quickly.

Maybe it had started when they completed their first training simulation together, gun and sword. Fire and ice. Red and Blue. Lance had hugged him, squealing in excitement, and Keith had thought…

He wanted those arms around him forever.

Maybe it had started one long year ago, with that first, blinding burst of color and blue and Lance. Maybe it had all been building since then; maybe they had been meant to be what they were from the start.

The first time Lance kissed him, Keith thought he would explode. Colors he’d never even known existed burst behind his eyes, shades of azure and teal and cobalt and blue, so much blue.

It was breathtaking, it was addicting, it was beautiful.

And so was he.

The nightmares never left. Keith still woke up screaming most nights, memories of blood and pain and darkness and fear tearing his mind apart.

But Lance was there, with his gentle hands, rough with calluses, and his warm, calming blue, soothing over Keith’s fear and bringing him back to their room in the Castle.

Sometimes it was Lance, waking up in a thrashing, screaming mess. And it would be Keith cupping Lance’s face, wiping away his tears, brushing sweaty hair away from his face.

Lance was warm, Keith found. When Lance pressed himself up to Keith’s back or side, warmth filled his whole body, and Keith was asleep in moments. They always woke up curled into each other, a crescent moon of sleep, of red and blue.

Every kiss was just as stunning as the first; part of Keith wondered if Lance knew how he affected him, how he took Keith’s breath away with every smile, every laugh, every kiss.

The team was happy for them. Coran had been the one to show them to a larger room, one that would comfortably fit them both. Allura had beamed, her marks glowing in excitement, as two of her brothers found peace and joy in each other. Hunk and Shiro had released twin sighs of relief; they’d both spent years being hounded by rants of pining and yearning, and it was a relief to them both that their favorite fools had finally gotten their acts together by getting together. Pidge had groaned, complaining that they were gonna be gross everywhere now, dammit. Hunk had pointed out that it was better than the endless pining and sexual tension from before.

They were a better team than ever before. Red and blue, working in tandem, fighting as one. They could read each other’s minds, each other’s body language, easier than reading a book.

Lance knew the fiery red like he knew the ocean, like he knew his family’s faces. He knew the little frown Keith would get whenever he was thinking. He knew the way Keith held his bayard, knew the way he stroked and cooed at Red when he thought nobody was looking. He knew the tickle of Keith’s hair as he slept in Lance’s arms, and the feeling of Keith pressed up against Lance’s back when it was the other way around. He knew the soft smile reserved just for Keith’s family, just for those on the Castle. He knew the flash of anger whenever someone in his family was harmed, knew the iron stubbornness that had driven him insane for so long.

Keith knew the cool, calming blue like he knew the hilt of his knife, the color of his hair. He knew Lance’s laugh, his real laugh. He knew the feel of Lance’s fingers in his hair, combing and braiding it to unwind after a hard battle. He knew the laser focus as Lance pulled the trigger every mission, the way he had beamed like a blooming sun when he’d unlocked a new bayard form.

They’d taken to helping with each other’s armor before they went out to battle every day. Chest piece, arm guards, leg pieces, and helmet, with gentle, reverent fingers. It was a gesture, an acknowledgement that despite everyone’s best efforts…

they might not come home one day.

But neither of them realized that it was true.

And neither of them had ever thought about what they would do if their other half was gone forever.

It was a hard mission, an attempt to retake a stolen cruiser. Lance and Keith were at the head of the op; in the three years since coming to space, they had become a single unit.

Lance’s Altean broadsword flashed in a blur of blue, right alongside Keith’s red blade. Matt Holt and his rebel squad were some distance behind, overtaking the engines, but the Red and Blue Paladins were going right for the command room.

Sentry after sentry was cut down, with quick, brutal efficiency that could only be learned in a war such as this.

It seemed to slow, the battle raging around them, as the blade was thrown, flying end over end. It seemed to slow, as Lance screamed and shoved Keith out of the way, sending the other rolling across the metal floor. It seemed to slow as Keith raised his eyes to see Lance kneeling on the ground, the hilt of a sword protruding from his gut.

Keith didn’t remember the rest of the battle. He’d screamed, a wild, animalistic wail that didn’t even sound human.

The sentries and the soldier who had thrown the sword had fallen, not standing a chance against the rage and grief of the Red Paladin.

He’d dropped his bayard and skidded to Lance’s side, sliding his arms beneath him and pulling him close. It was a sickening imitation to that first time, years ago, when Lance had smiled and said that, and Keith had wondered if they could make it work somehow.

There was so much red. Seeping between Keith’s fingers as he tried to hold Lance together, pooling on the metal floor. Too much red.

He’d cried, maybe. Keith didn’t remember. Lance had clutched his wrist, his blue eyes dulling, his grip loosening as his eyes fluttered closed.

Matt had come, taking Lance away and running back to the Castle with him. To a healing pod.

And Keith had gone to finish the mission.

He would see Lance when it was over. He would see him when he exited the pod, when he was healed and safe.

But as Keith overtook the bridge, and took out the sentries, and disabled the commanders, agony pulsed through his body, through his mind. He’d collapsed to his knees, clutching his head and screaming as the blue that had been a part of him for so long was ripped away.

And when Keith opened his eyes…

the world was gray.

Lance had a traditional Altean funeral. It was their only option, this far out into space. They still couldn’t risk going back to Earth, not even to deliver his body and belongings to his family.

So they laid him out on an altar, in the chambers reserved for such a ceremony. Every Altean ship had one, Coran had murmured softly, eyes overflowing with tears, marks dull with grief. It wasn’t uncommon to lose crew members on long journeys through space.

They laid his most precious possessions alongside his body, the guitar he’d found at the space mall, the little knick knacks he’d collected from all their adventures.

Keith, still numb, still moving robotically, slowly draped his jacket over Lance’s still form. It had once been red, but now it was gray.

Everything was gray.

Hunk had sobbed, wide shoulders shaking with the force of his grief. Pidge had wept too, wrapped in an embrace from Matt. She’d found one brother, but lost another. Allura had cried as well, the first time Keith had seen her do so. Altean tears glowed silver, and she and Coran’s tears glittered on the metal floor like so many stars. Even Shiro cried; he’d come to love Lance like a brother, like family.

Keith didn’t cry. He was too numb, too cold. There was a gaping hole in his chest, in his mind, that had once been filled with blue.

But it was empty and cold, and everything was gray.

He’d watched as Lance’s altar burst into flame, as his glowing ashes were ejected into space in a trail of light.

Shiro said later that the ashes had glowed red and blue.

Keith hadn’t been able to tell.

They huddled there, the small, broken group of soldiers, watching the ashes fan out among the stars, becoming the stars.

It was fitting.

Lance had been the one to bring them out to the stars three years ago.

It was only right that he lived on among them.

They’d stood there, watching, long after the ashes faded and disappeared. Long after the flames extinguished themselves, leaving them in darkness. Long after the tears stopped falling, long after they all stopped trying to hold themselves together.

They’d lost family that day. And Keith had lost a part of himself.

And he would never see blue again.

He moved back into his old room. It was too jarring, too agonizing, staying in the space they had once shared, half-expecting Lance to exit the bathroom in a cloud of steam, or wrap his arms around Keith in the night, only to remember that he was gone forever.

His old room was unchanged. White walls, red highlights, a narrow bed.

It was too large.

It was too small.

It affected all of them.

Hunk didn’t bake as much anymore. He kept expecting Lance to come in, to sit on the counter and fill the air with his cheery, familiar chatter.

Pidge threw her headphones away. They’d reminded her of all the times Lance had borrowed them, all the times he’d used them to calm and comfort her.

Coran’s stories were rare. He’d seen all the Paladins as his family, but particularly Lance. He maintained the Castle, eyes rimmed with red, marks dull and glassy. He didn’t speak much anymore.

Shiro tried, so hard. He tried to help the others deal with the grief, even when it was crippling him. He tried to be the leader, tried to be strong. But Keith heard him weep at night, saw him with red, puffy eyes in the mornings.

Allura piloted Blue. She’d wept when the Lion connected with her; she could feel every bit of Blue’s grief, echoing and amplifying her own. When Coran had offered to braid her hair once, she’d broken into tears again. Lance had once done the same for her.

Keith was just numb. He trained. He fought. He trained some more. It was different, living in space when everything was colorless. It was a constant reminder of the emptiness inside, of what he had lost.

He’d once memorized the color blue. He’d once been able to see it in his sleep, behind his eyelids. He'd been able to distinguish Lance's laugh from the crowd, see his smile from a mile away.

Now it was all nothing more than a faded memory.

And Keith only knew gray.

Chapter 5: Never Swim Deeper (Unless It's All You Can Do)

Chapter Text

Never swim too deep.

That was the first lesson Keith had ever heard, when he was just a hatchling, before he even developed his outer layer of scales.

Never swim too deep.

There were other merpeople down there, different merpeople. They had sharp teeth and glowing eyes, and could smell a mer's blood from miles away. Their hauntingly beautiful songs could lure a mer to their death. Keith had never seen one; nobody ever saw a deep sea mer, a siren, and lived to tell the tale. They were savage, dangerous.

So Keith didn’t swim too deep. He stayed in the upper layers of the ocean, where the sun could reach, where his scales were touched by its light, blessed by its warmth.

He’d had a shoal once, long ago; he remembered hatchlings playing, bumbling through the water as they perfected their swimming technique. Harried parents swam after them, keeping them from straying too far outside the safety of the reef.

They were all gone now. Keith had left to hunt with his brother, and when they’d returned, everyone was gone.

Neither of them knew what had happened to their shoal. There was no way to know. And so they became a shoal of two, Keith and Shiro. Them against the world.

Shiro always somehow made it lighter, easier, being alone. He would race Keith through the reefs, chase fish and dolphins alongside him, groom his scales every night before they went to sleep in the sandy bottoms of the reefs.

With Shiro, Keith didn’t feel so alone. He was with his brother; everything was perfect.

Until everything wasn’t.

There was a fleet of human ships that were always afloat in their part of the ocean. They were obsessed with finding and capturing mers so they could study them, take them apart. Stories were heard of mers being snapped up by those humans, the Galra, as they were called…and never being seen again.

The Galra were feared. They were relentless. And they were impossible to escape.

But Keith refused to back down.

He dodged a harpoon, his crimson tail churning the water around him. The deafening, unnatural rumble of ship engines made his frilly ears fold back against his head. Ahead, trails of murky blood flowed behind Shiro as he was dragged through the water toward one of the ships. He was struggling sluggishly, but his tail fin was torn, and he had deep gashes in his tail, marring the glossy violet and black scales.

Keith shot through the water, expertly avoiding the flying harpoons that came much too close for comfort. No way in hell was he going to let them take the only family he had left.

Shiro had stopped struggling and gone limp, the water around him murky with blood. Keith’s heart clenched, and he beat his powerful tail to rocket forward. Spears and harpoons flew all around him as he reached his brother, and Keith took hold of Shiro, trying to ease him off the spear that had impaled his tail.

Shiro stiffened, a whine of pain rising from his throat, and Keith trilled in apology as he pulled harder. If they didn’t get out of there soon…they were both dead.

Then agony blazed through his body as a harpoon sliced into his side. Keith arched his back with a hiss, lashing his tail; blood churned all around them, both his and Shiro’s as he pushed the pain away to try and free his brother.

With a final, painful tug, the harpoon was pulled from Shiro’s body. Keith wrapped his arms around his unconscious brother’s waist and swam for his life.

Another sharp stab of agony pulsed through his body as another spear met its mark, but Keith ignored the pain and kept swimming.

He was fast, one of the fastest mers in the ocean. But he was wounded, badly, and carrying Shiro. Even Keith couldn’t outswim the Galra like this. He had to lose them, and fast.

The coppery scent of blood was in his gills, in his throat; it made it harder to breathe, but Keith ignored it.

Another stab of pain, this time in his tail fin.

Keith shrieked as the delicate membrane was torn, wisps of blood seeping out to join the murky cloud that billowed around them.

The rumble of engines came closer as the ships approached their prey.

There was nowhere to go; only open ocean on all sides. Keith couldn’t swim anymore, not with a torn fin.

There was nowhere to go…except down.

Never swim deeper, everyone said. Sirens, monsters, dangers that lurked only in shadow.

But Keith could only focus on the very real danger that was approaching, the deafening rumble of engines, the spears that plunged through the water around them.

Shiro was unconscious in his arms, blood sluggishly seeping from his wounds.

And so Keith did the only thing he could. The only thing he should never, ever do.

He swam deeper.

The sun disappeared quickly, and Keith mourned its light. He could still see; a human would be blinded, but there was more than enough light for a mer. It wasn’t the warm light of the sun, but it would suffice.

He had to find somewhere safe. They were too deep for the ships to be a danger, but he knew they would stay there for hours more, perhaps even days, waiting for their quarry to reappear. The Galra knew that Keith’s kind craved sunlight, and they would expect them to return.

They had to stay down here until the danger had passed, but there were more things down here, things with sharp teeth, things that waited in the darkness. Every shark within ten miles would have caught a whiff of all of the mer blood, not to mention the sirens. Keith had to find a place that was safe, a defendable position. Shiro was wounded, unconscious; it was up to Keith to protect them both.

Even when he was close to collapsing himself.

His sharp violet eyes caught hold of a cave, small and dark. It was well-hidden, looking like no creatures had discovered it yet.

Keith swam to it, ears flared out to listen, gills pulsing to sense the water for movement.

There was none.

With a grateful, exhausted trill, Keith swam inside, taking in the close confines of the cave, the small opening. It would be easy enough, protecting the entrance.

Keith did his best to patch Shiro’s wounds with the few medical supplies they had. There wasn’t enough for both of them, but Keith refused to let his brother die.

Settling Shiro down to rest once his wounds were bandaged, Keith shifted to sit in the entrance, determined to protect his shoalmate.

And if Keith succumbed to his injuries…his body would block the entrance. Nothing could get in, and Shiro would be safe until he woke up.

And so Keith settled down to wait.

He must have lost consciousness, because when Keith awoke, he was staring right into a pair of luminescent, beautiful blue eyes.

He yelped in surprise and swam back, then froze in shock.

He’d heard stories of how beautiful sirens were.

But he never realized how true those stories had been.

This one had a tail of deep, cobalt blue, bluer than the sea itself. Paler blue bioluminescence trailed and swirled up the sides of his tail and around his waist and chest, curling over his cheekbones. His eyes glowed in the darkness, so blue it was almost mesmerizing. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move; just kept watching Keith curiously, his eyes tracing over Keith’s crimson tail. His gills were pulsing, no doubt scenting the blood in the water, scenting Keith’s fear.

The siren drifted closer, frilly ears perked forward, and Keith bared his teeth in a ferocious hiss.

“Stay. Back.” He had no idea if the siren spoke Mer, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

To his surprise, the siren stopped, blue tail twirling in the water to keep himself from shifting in the current.

A low, dangerous growl was building in Keith’s throat, and it reached a climax when the siren reached into a pack at his side. But instead of a weapon, or any of the other horrible things Keith was envisioning, it was a roll of bandages. Woven from kelp, very similar to the bandages Keith always had.

The siren held them out, careful not to move closer.

Keith hesitated, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t trust him, not in the slightest; but he could feel himself weakening by the minute, his injuries draining his life away.

Keith reached forward warily, ready to fight at any moment. His fingers brushed against the siren’s, and Keith flinched; the siren’s skin was surprisingly warm. He accepted the roll of bandages, and the siren backed away.

For a moment, the pain seemed to fade into the background as mer and siren just waited, staring at each other. The siren’s head tilted slightly, his glowing eyes inquisitive. And then, in a blur of bioluminescent blue, he disappeared, swimming downward.

Keith watched him go, watched the pale blue glow fade away into nothing. He glanced at the bandages in his hand, then at the wounds that were still seeping blood.

He still didn’t trust the siren at all, but he did need to get his injuries patched up.

So Keith settled himself just inside the cave opening and got to work.

“Hunk, you’ll never believe this,” Lance said breathlessly the moment he entered the sleeping cave. His mind still whirled with what he had seen; the mer from up above. He hadn’t had any bioluminescent scales anywhere on his body, but he’d had scales in a deep, deep crimson, a shade of red that Lance had never seen before. He’d seen an actual surface-level mer. And he had lived to tell about it!

“What?” Hunk drifted from his pile of kelp, blinking blearily. His glittering gold tail kept him steady in the water, the swirls of glowing scales illuminating the room and combating Lance’s blue light with his warm, yellow glow.

Lance hesitated, his excitement briefly overshadowed by his apprehension. What would the shoal do if they realized a mer from above-one of the fiercest species in the ocean-was less than a click away?

Yes, surface mer were dangerous. Lance had learned that his whole life, and the one he’d seen today had confirmed it. He’d been lithe, strong, with powerful muscles rippling beneath his red scales.

But he’d also been scared. Desperate. Lance had scented blood from another mer, one that must have been inside the cave. The red mer had probably been protecting a mate or a shoalmate, despite his own injuries.

But if Lance told his shoal about them…they’d kill them both. The red mer, and whoever he was protecting.

They may be dangerous. They may be different. But Lance didn’t want them to die.

Hunk was staring at him, glowing gold eyes curious, still waiting for an answer.

Lance covered quickly. “There was this freaky deep reef I found,” he gushed, the lie coming as easily as swimming. Not that he lied all the time, but Lance was just a natural at it. “It was awesome!”

“Man, I don’t like how you’re always going to the edges of the reef,” Hunk said, wringing his hands. “It’s dangerous out there!”

“No guts, no glory, Hunk,” Lance said cheerfully, playfully smacking Hunk’s gold tail with his blue. “Besides, it’s fun!”

“I don’t know,” Hunk murmured, swimming for the exit. “You’re gonna get yourself hurt one of these days, man. Be careful, okay?”

Lance chuckled. “You know me, I’m always careful.”

Hunk’s skeptical glance was the last thing Lance saw before the gold mer disappeared out the door.

Lance’s bright grin dropped as soon as Hunk left, and he frowned thoughtfully. The red mer probably wasn’t going to be resting, if he had someone to protect. Even if he desperately needed to. A wounded, exhausted mer was just asking to be eaten by something or other. Not to mention that he probably wouldn’t dare leave his companion alone long enough to hunt for food.

With a sigh, Lance slung his woven bag from his shoulder and began to pack supplies into it. He knew it was stupid and dangerous, but he’d seen the wary fear in the red mer’s violet eyes. He’d been afraid, and in pain, and wary, and nervous. And Lance had felt the same way when he’d first scented the blood floating through the water. He’d thought it was one of his kind, one of the deep-sea mers, but it wasn’t. He’d been afraid until he’d realized…

The red mer was just as afraid of Lance as Lance was afraid of him.

And Lance was certain that he didn’t want to sentence him to certain death.

Keith fought to keep awake as the day passed on. The siren hadn’t reappeared, and Keith suspected he had gone to bring back more to take Keith down.

Not that it would take very many. In the state he was in, a small crab could probably defeat him in a fight.

His vision was blurry, his entire body throbbing with pain. The bleeding hadn’t stopped, not really; even after he’d used the entire roll of bandages. He was just exhausted. From the chase, from the escape, from blood loss, from his injuries. But he couldn’t rest, because then he and Shiro would both be completely defenseless.

Keith was so focused on trying to stay conscious that he didn’t even notice the siren had returned until he caught a glimpse of soft, glowing blue scales.

He jumped, clamping a hand over the wound on his side with a pained hiss. The siren frowned at him, brow creased in what looked like concern.

He had come alone. And his bag was full, but of what Keith didn’t know.

He bared his teeth, trying to look intimidating. The siren didn’t look impressed; if anything, his visible concern only grew.

“You do realize that you couldn’t fight me off in this state if you tried, right?”

Keith was so shocked to hear the siren speak that he jumped again, sending more bolts of pain shooting up his body. When he recovered from his shock, he spat, “Was that supposed to reassure me?”

The siren sighed, floating a little lower. His translucent fins swished through the water in a mesmerizing motion, and Keith forced himself to look away; he couldn’t let the siren lull him into a trance.

In lieu of an answer, the mer floated a little closer, a webbed hand on his bag. “I brought some things that might help,” he explained.

Keith hissed again, and the siren stopped. “Stay away from me.”

The siren’s glowing blue eyes fixed on Keith’s. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. His gaze darted to the mouth of the cave. “Or your friend.”

Keith hesitated. Shiro needed help, real help that Keith didn’t know how to give. Even if he did know how to save his brother, he was wounded himself, and could barely move at this point.

He gave a curt nod, his ears flicking back. “If you make a wrong move, I will attack,” Keith promised, his voice a low growl.

It probably wasn’t much of a threat, seeing as Keith was too weak to fight off a puffer fish, but the siren nodded anyway.

He unslung the bag from over his shoulders and set it on the ground a respectful distance away from Keith. But before he could start pulling supplies out, Keith stopped him.

“Wait. I…I need you to take care of him first.”

The siren’s brows furrowed in confusion, and Keith hauled himself up, leading the way into the cave where Shiro rested.

“You probably shouldn’t be moving-” The siren tried to say, but Keith ignored him.

Once inside the cave, he settled at Shiro’s side. He was still unconscious, his gills rippling as he breathed, the bandages soaked with blood.

The siren cautiously poked his head in, and slowly the rest of him followed. As he fully entered the cave, his bioluminescent scales brightened, illuminating the dark alcove in soft blue light.

Keith tensed as the siren drew close to Shiro, but he relaxed marginally as the siren began to sift through the supplies he’d brought.

He swam closer to Shiro, and Keith growled.

The siren paused, meeting Keith’s eyes. “I can’t help him if you don’t let me get close,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt him, I promise.”

Keith hesitated again, glancing at Shiro’s still body. He was dying, and this siren was probably the only person nearby who could help. Keith nodded once, and the siren began to tend to the wounded mer.

He changed Shiro’s bandages, rubbed an ointment into his wounds, and used some kind of medical paste to gently repair Shiro’s torn fins. His expression didn’t change once, not even while tending to such horrific injuries. He stayed quiet, sensing Keith’s ratcheted nerves and not wanting to upset him. Keith obviously didn’t pose a threat in his condition, but if he tried to attack he’d hurt himself, at the very least, and the siren seemed to know that.

Finally he shifted back.

“Okay. Now you.”

Keith shook his head, shuddering at the thought of the siren’s hands on him. “No.”

The siren glared at him, and with his glowing eyes it was a disturbing sight. “You’re hurt just as badly as your shoalmate,” he pointed out. “If your wounds are left alone, you’ll bleed out.”

Keith set his jaw stubbornly.

The siren sighed. “If you die, who’s going to protect him until he wakes up?” He gestured to Shiro, and Keith clenched his fists.

He’s right. He hated it, but the siren made a good point.

“Fine,” Keith sighed. He settled on the ground, wincing as he tried to move his tail to where the siren could reach.

The other moved slowly, reaching into his pack and pulling out the ointment. When he touched Keith’s scales, Keith couldn’t stop his flinch. His hands were warm as he began to massage the ointment into Keith’s scales, and after a few minutes Keith felt himself relaxing.

The siren’s touch was surprisingly gentle as he carefully cleaned and wrapped the wounds. The worst part was mending the membrane of his fin.

Keith hissed as the siren’s fingers accidentally grazed the tear, sending sharp prickles of hot pain lancing up his tail.

“Sorry,” the siren murmured as he began to mend Keith’s fins, much more gently than before.

“It’s okay,” Keith said finally.

Finally the siren finished, and he shifted away to give Keith space. “I brought you some food, too,” he said. “I don’t know what you eat, but, well, here.” He held out a container made from a shell, and Keith warily accepted. He didn’t think the siren would poison him after putting in so much effort to fix up his wounds, but he still wasn’t sure if he could be trusted.

The siren rose, swimming for the door. “I’ll come back soon to replace both your bandages, okay?”

Keith exhaled and nodded. He would have to cooperate with this siren until he and Shiro had regained enough strength to leave.

The siren turned to go, but just before he disappeared, he turned back. “What’s your name?”

Keith frowned. “What?”

The siren rolled his eyes. “I gotta call you something other than ‘the mer with the gorgeous red scales.’ Name. What is it?”

“Keith.” There wasn’t much harm in telling the siren their names, at least not that Keith could see. “That’s Shiro.” He gestured to his sleeping brother.

The siren hummed thoughtfully. “I’m Lance.” And he beat his tail once, twice, and was gone. The ripples washed over Keith, tickling his gills and making the anemones on the walls wave their arms.

It was only long after the siren-Lance-had left that Keith realized that the other had called his scales gorgeous.

Lance came back a few times a day, bringing food and medicine, or sometimes just coming to chat.

Keith would never admit it, but he was grateful for that. It was horribly lonely and disheartening, sitting in a cave with nobody but his wounded, comatose brother to keep him company.

He still didn’t trust Lance, but he was growing more…comfortable with him. He didn’t hiss or threaten him anymore, though he still tensed instinctively if Lance got too close.

It was nearly two weeks since the Galra attack, but Shiro still hadn’t woken up. Keith was beginning to worry.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Lance mused when Keith expressed his worry. “It’s common to be unconscious for a day or three, but not this long.”

“He’s alive, but he’s just not waking up.” Keith couldn’t conceal his worry; Shiro was all he had left. He couldn’t lose him.

“I think I know someone who could help,” Lance said, “but I’ll need to bring her here. Will that be okay?”

Keith hesitated. Lance hadn’t yet done anything to make Keith not trust him, other than being a deep-sea mer. Which…as Keith thought about it, really wasn’t that much of a reason to distrust someone.

“Yeah,” he said, surprising even himself. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Lance nodded, turning to head for the exit. Then he stopped, and turned back, gently tapping his tail fins against Keith’s. “I’ll…see you later?”

Keith brushed his fins against Lance’s almost without thinking. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Lance smiled, swam from the cave and disappeared.

Keith sat there, his fins tingling where they had brushed against Lance’s. What in hell was he doing? He’d grown comfortable around Lance, but surely not that comfortable. The touching of fins was a greeting and farewell between friends, close friends.

Were he and Lance close?

Well, they’d been talking for more than two weeks. Lance had never been anything but helpful, and he was fun to talk to. It occurred to Keith that he’d never had very many close friends in his life, so he wasn’t sure how it was supposed to feel.

Maybe this is a good place to start.

“You’re certain he’s alive?”

Keith glowered down at the green deep-sea mer. “Yes,” he growled. “He’s alive.”

She frowned at Shiro, tapping her chin with her tail fin. “Well, if he isn’t waking up, then that means something’s very wrong.”

“That’s brilliant, Pidge,” Lance drawled from where he was sprawled on the ground. "I never would have thought that something was wrong." He idly swished his tail back and forth. Keith was definitely not staring at the rippling muscles moving beneath dark blue scales, or the delicate blue fins as they curled through the water. He was definitely not tracing the lines of Lance’s bioluminescent scales as they traced up his sides and curled over his cheeks. Nor was he watching Lance’s hair ripple through the water, and thinking about how nice it would be to run his fingers through it, or-

“Are you listening to me?” Pidge asked, co*cking a brow. Her emerald green tail swished through the water, and she looked amused. “Or are you still ogling Lance?”

“What?” Keith snapped his gaze back to her, feeling his cheeks warm. “I was not!”

She just raised a skeptical brow before returning to checking Shiro over. She ran her fingers over the healing wounds in his tail and fins, humming thoughtfully every now and then.

It was strange, but Keith didn’t feel any kind of apprehension of letting her be so close to his brother. It had taken a lot of convincing from Lance to even get close at first, but for some reason when Lance said he had a friend he could trust, Keith hadn’t hesitated. He trusted Pidge because Lance trusted Pidge…and Keith trusted Lance.

It was a terrifying realization, but Keith knew it was true. He’d known Lance for more than three weeks now, and he had never been anything but open and genuine and friendly. Pidge, too, was kind, though she definitely had a teasing streak.

It was too crowded for them all to fit inside, so Keith went outside while Pidge worked. After a few minutes, Lance joined him.

“Can she figure out what’s wrong?” Keith asked finally, after minutes of silence.

Lance shrugged. “If Pidge can’t, nobody can.”

Keith hummed and was silent again. It was a comfortable silence, the kind that had often stretched between Keith and Shiro.

Then Lance’s fins brushed up against Keith’s, and he whipped his head around. Lance was staring straight ahead, but his glowing scales were a little brighter, indicating his nervousness. His fin brushed up against Keith’s again, feather-light and barely there, and Keith reciprocated the gesture, even daring to go as far as curl his deep crimson tail around Lance’s ocean blue.

Lance was warm; according to him, so were all the other deep-sea mers. It was a mechanism to help them survive the cold of the deep.

He felt like the sun, kissing Keith’s scales with warmth as he raced through the waves at the surface.

Keith liked it.

He shifted closer, slowly resting his head on Lance’s shoulder. After a moment, Lance leaned on him, too.

“He’s going to be okay,” the deep-sea mer said softly, squeezing Keith’s hand.

Keith twined his tail around Lance’s, squeezing his hand back.

“I hope so.”

Pidge finally declared that it had been a sleep toxin that must have been on the head of the spear that had impaled Shiro. She explained that there was a cure, but she would need a few days to prepare it.

In the meantime, while she was down in the reefs collecting her supplies, Keith stayed by his shoalmate’s side. Shiro’s breaths were deep and even, his face slack as he slept. He looked peaceful. But he still wouldn’t wake up.

Ripples through the water alerted Keith to Lance’s presence. It was familiar now, so he didn’t even shift as Lance entered, carrying a bag of food for Keith.

“Hey,” Lance said softly.

Keith nodded in response, too exhausted-both physically and mentally-to reply.

Lance settled beside him, his fins brushed against Keith’s tail in greeting. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Keith said automatically. He hadn’t slept in a few days since he’d been too worried about Shiro, but he was fine.

“We both know that’s not true,” Lance replied.

Keith sighed. “I’m just…worried about him,” he said finally.

“I know that,” Lance said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t get to sleep for days. You need rest as much as he does; you’re still recovering too, you know.”

Keith heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I just…I can’t sleep, not knowing if he’s going to be okay.” His voice cracked on the last word, nearly four weeks of worry making itself known.

Lance placed his hands on Keith’s shoulders, gently maneuvering Keith to rest his head in Lance’s lap.

Keith might have been surprised at such a gesture a week ago, but this was Lance, and he was warm, and Keith trusted him. And he was tired.

And so with Lance’s fingers gently carding through his hair, Keith fell asleep.

When Shiro finally woke up another week and a half later, it was to his overjoyed brother. Keith had embraced him tightly, like he’d never, ever let go.

“Welcome back,” Keith whispered in Shiro’s ear, his voice rough.

When the brothers had finally separated, Shiro finally noticed the stranger at the doorway, watching with a soft smile. Shiro moved instinctively to put himself between his brother and the danger, but Keith held him back.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re cool.”

“Hopefully more than cool,” the strange mer said easily, drifting closer. “I didn’t give you that shell for nothing.”

Keith’s cheeks flamed, and he turned away, crossing his arms. Shiro trusted Keith, so if Keith said this mer was cool, then he was cool.

The older of the two turned to the strange mer, a wicked grin across his face. “What shell, pray tell?”

The mer grinned and opened his mouth, but Keith slapped his hand over it, keeping him from speaking.

“You are not telling my brother that when he’s just woken up!” Keith hissed.

Shiro leaned forward; now he was intrigued. “Tell me what? Are you engaged? Pregnant?”

"What?” Keith shrieked, staring at Shiro in horror. “No, I’m not pregnant!”

Shiro couldn’t entirely hide his grin.

“We’re not engaged, either!” Keith insisted, jabbing a finger in Shiro’s face. “So shut it!”

Shiro gasped, his hands flying to his mouth. “Oh my god, you’re courting!”

Keith fell silent, his face turning the same color as his scales. Shiro squealed, meeting eyes with the mer-who was courting his brother!!!

He grinned, waving a hand. “The name’s Lance. I’m glad you’re feeling better now.”

Shiro beamed at his little brother, who was trying (and failing) to hide behind his tail fins. “I am feeling better,” he said. “Especially now that I get to tease my shoalmate for life about this!”

Keith groaned, and Lance laughed, and everything was perfect.

Chapter 6: Keith and Lance's Relationship Q&A

Chapter Text

The camera focused on the two boys sitting on the couch. Pidge’s voice came from offscreen.

“All right, we’re ready. Guys, these are my friends, Lance and Keith.

The boy on the left waved cheerily, a sunny smile one his face. “Hello, everyone!”

The boy on the right grunted, but when Lance nudged him, he grudgingly raised a hand.

“‘Sup.”

“I’ve got some questions for you both, from my viewers who commented on the last video,” Pidge explained from behind the camera. “Answer most of them honestly.”

“Just most of them?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow.

Pidge hummed in confirmation, sounding distracted. “All right, your first question…’when did you two first realize you liked each other as more than friends?’” She snickered. “Oh boy, this is a story.”

“Shut up, Pidge,” Keith grumbled. “It’s not funny.”

She cackled. “I think it is.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Okay!” Lance said cheerfully, nudging Keith’s thigh with his foot. “When you two children are finished arguing-”

“You’re one to talk,” Pidge snickered.

Lance glowered at her. “Are you gonna let us answer the question or not?”

“Go ahead, don’t let me stop you.”

Lance huffed, turning toward the camera and putting on his best smile. “Well, to answer your question, dear viewer, I realized that Keith wasn’t so bad when he texted me pictures of his puppy to cheer me up when I was really sick that one time.”

Pidge made an “awww” sound from behind the camera. “And what about you, Keith?”

Keith shrugged, leaning forward on his elbows. He was leaning against Lance slightly, just a brush of their shoulders. It was a small gesture, but no less intimate.

“I guess…it was that time Shiro was in the hospital, and Lance came over to watch Buzzfeed Unsolved with me all night to keep me company.” He glanced at Lance, a soft smile spreading across his face. “I’ll never forget that.”

Red spread across Lance’s cheeks, and he swatted Keith’s shoulder. “Aw, babe, you never told me that!”

“I just did!”

“Sickening, aren’t they?” Pidge said, shifting into the frame. Her glasses sat on the end of her nose, a disgruntled expression on her face. “I have to deal with them every day.”

“You choose to hang out with us, you know,” Lance said, poking Pidge’s shoulder with his toes. “That’s your own fault.”

Pidge sighed, shifting out of frame where Lance couldn’t reach. “I don’t choose to hang out with you guys,” she grumbled. “I’ve been kidnapped by a group of extroverts, and now I can’t leave.”

“I’m not an extrovert,” Keith pointed out.

“You don’t count,” Pidge replied. “You got kidnapped by the extrovert crowd, too.”

Keith shrugged, not bothering to argue with that logic.

Pidge continued. “The next question is, ‘why did it take you so long to get together? We could all see that you two were crazy about each other.’ I know the answer to this one! They both refused to accept the fact that they had feelings for each other, and so they just pined from a distance.”

Lance and Keith glanced at each other, shrugging. “She’s not wrong,” Lance admitted.

“For the record,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes, “if you think it was bad watching them pine from a screen, try watching it in real life. Torture. Absolute torture.”

“Can we move on?” Keith asked, raising his eyebrows. “Or are you just going to keep roasting us?”

“As you wish,” Pidge sighed, scrolling to the next question. “‘Who’s the little spoon?’”

“Keith,” Lance said, at the same time Keith said, “Lance.”

The boyfriends stared at each other for a moment, before Keith finally turned to face the camera and said, “We usually take turns. Usually it depends on who had the worst day and needs the cuddles the most.”

“I don’t know if that’s hilarious or adorable,” Pidge commented.

“Any other questions for us?” Lance asked, leaning back against the cough with his arms flopped against the back.

“‘Who’s the better cook, and why?’”

“Keith,” Lance said without hesitation. “Definitely Keith.”

“Why is that?” Pidge prompted.

Keith grinned. “Shiro can’t cook to save his life, so somebody has to.”

Lance laughed, leaning on Keith’s shoulder. “Oh man, you can’t trust that guy with toast!”

Pidge snorted. “He and Matt set our kitchen on fire once. Mom and Dad had mistakenly trusted him because he’s a 'functional adult,’” she made air quotes, “and could be trusted with cooking dinner.”

Keith was laughing now, too. “He is the least functional person I know.”

Lance straightened, wiping tears from his eyes. “Aw man, that is accurate. I saw him drop a bagel on the ground the other day, and he just stared at the ceiling and said, ‘Why has God forsaken me?’” Lance deepened his voice into a sad monotone when he impersonated Shiro. Keith laughed even harder, doubling over and holding his middle. He snort-laughed, which made Lance dissolve into hysterical laughter.

They sat on the couch, leaning onto each other, wheezing and wiping tears from their eyes, and Pidge rolled her eyes affectionately.

Idiots.

No matter how annoying they could be, she was glad they were finally together. It was obvious to anyone who had eyes that they made each other happy. And that was all Pidge needed for her brothers.

Chapter 7: The Distance That Binds Us

Chapter Text

Group Chat: black needs a break

Green: you guys will never believe this

Silver: oh?

Green: look what i saw at Lance’s house

Green has sent a picture

Silver: oh my god

Blue: HEY

Blue: I INVITED YOU INTO MY HOME AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME??

Blue: WITH LIES AND BETRAYAL????

Green: yep. dinner was good tho, make sure you tell your mom that

Blue: i will. But wHY DID YOU TAKE A PICTURE OF MY BEYONCE BOARD

Red: im sorry, you have a *beyonce board??*

Blue: you dont???

Red: ………

Red: im gonna say no to that

Blue: i cant believe this

Blue: traitors, all of you

Blue: beyonce is a gift! to mankind!

Green: bEyOnCe iS a GiFt tO mAnKiNd

Blue: ………………

Blue: i hate you

Blue has changed the chat name to “Lance’s Friends-and Pidge”

Green: ok that was a low blow

Blue: not as low as taking a picture of my queen beyonce and slANDERING HER

Silver: ………is anyone else confused?

Red: right with you

Blue: *gASP*

Blue: allura i thought we were friends

Blue: i thought you were cool

Silver: what about red? hes confused too

Blue: red was never cool

Blue: its his hair

Red: just keep saying that if it makes you feel better

Blue: dont mind if i do

Yellow: for the record i support your support of beyonce

Blue: tHANK YOU HUNK

Blue: my one true ally

Blue has changed the chat name to “Lance and his best bro hunk”

Teal: this is me erasure and i will not stand for it

Blue: sorry romelle

Teal: ill forgive you if you bring me food

Blue: …………

Blue: romelle you live three hours away

Teal: you heard me

Teal: be a pal, lance

Teal: im hungry and i dont wanna get up

Silver: you mean to say that you want lance to drive three hours because you dont want to get up?

Teal: absolutely

Teal: its what i deserve

Black: What on Earth happened here? Why has the chat name changed so much? Why does Lance have a Beyonce Board?

Blue: i reiterate my previous question: why dont *you* have a beyonce board

Black: ……………………

Black: I don’t even know what to say.

Blue: :)

Yellow: so what movie are we gonna watch today

Blue: wild kratts because red doesnt know who they are

Red: f*ck off

Red: just because i didnt recognize the cartoon character

Blue: well dont worry, ill educate you

Blue: get ready to have your socks knocked off

Red: i wont hold my breath

Lance McClain had very few friends in real life. He had Pidge, of course, who went to his school, and Hunk, who only lived about half an hour away, but he didn’t have very many others. He didn’t mind, though. His friends on the Voltron Online group chat were the best friends he could ever ask for.

They’d all been friends for years, some for even longer. Lance had known Hunk and Pidge for nearly his entire life, but when Hunk’s family moved away, Pidge had created a chat so they could keep in touch easier. Lance had invited two of his online friends, Allura and Romelle. Pidge had invited two boys who she’d known through Matt. Black and Red, adoptive brothers who lived in a city four and a half hours away from Lance’s town. And the rest was history.

They were his best friends. Even Red, whose relationship with Lance had started a little rockier, was one of his closest friends. He knew them all as well as he would have if they all saw each other in person every day. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know Red or Black’s real names, or that he’d never seen most of his friends unless it was through a screen during their video chats. They were friends, and he loved them all.

Which was why what happened next came as such a terrible shock.

Green: red. talk to me. what happened? are you okay?

Blue: what do you mean? what happened?

Green: matt told me it was a car wreck. a bad one. black and red were involved. he doesnt know more than that, and red isnt picking up when i call him

Silver: neither is black. ive been trying for half an hour now

Blue: oh my god

Lance sat back, a chill of horror running down his spine. The thought that two of his friends-that Red- might be badly hurt was a sobering one.

They weren’t dead. He refused to acknowledge that.

He typed out a reply, feeling something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach.

Blue: maybe theyre both at the hospital getting checked out. im sure theyre ok

He hoped.

But he didn’t know. That was the worst part; he didn’t know if he would see Black’s smile in the video chats, or make fun of the little floof of dark bangs that he always had. He didn’t know if he would see Red’s shy smile, or his dark hair, or his dark eyes that always pierced Lance to the core even through a screen.

And so Lance settled down to wait by his laptop until someone had news.

Green: matt texted me. red's ok, just a few scrapes, but black's in the hospital

Green: it's bad. really bad.

Yellow: is he gonna be ok?

Green: ………………

Green: we don't know.

Lance swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. Black was the dad friend, the one who always watched out for the others. He'd been the one who helped Lance with his physics homework last year, when he'd been sure he would fail. He'd been the one to stay by Allura when her father died, and Romelle when she lost her brother.

And now he might not live to see the sunrise.

Blue: have you heard anything from red?

Green: nothing.

Silver: he will have been hit the hardest with this news

Silver: we will need to be here for him

Green: especially you, lance

Lance frowned. Over the years he has developed a sense for being able to tell when Pidge was teasing. She always teased him about Red, but Lance got the feeling that this time… she was completely serious.

Blue: I will.

It was the next evening when Lance's laptop chimed with a cluster of messages from the group chat.

Green: RED! YOU'RE ONLINE!

Yellow: are you ok, man?

Teal: we've been so worried!

The three red dots beneath Red's name appeared, then disappeared, then appeared, and then disappeared again. He probably felt bombarded by the messages that just kept coming.

Blue: guys, cool it. give him some space

Red: thanks lance.

Red: …………I'm ok. I don't really want to talk about it.

Blue: you wanna watch a movie? I've got pacific rim or monty python. which one are we going for

Silver: giant robots fighting giant aliens?? do you even have to ask which one I prefer??

Green: ^^^^ she's right and she should say it

Blue: k let's do it. pacific rim it is

Pacific Rim was one of Lance's favorites, but he wasn't paying much attention. It didn't look like Red was, either, his gaze faraway as the Jaegers and Kaiju battled onscreen.

When the movie was over, everyone said goodnight and left to get ready for bed. Lance was just about to sign off when Red called him.

Furrowing his brow, Lance accepted the video call.

On the screen, Red was hunched over his desk, arms crossed in front of him, hiding behind his bangs.

"What's up, man?" Lance asked softly.

"It's…too quiet," Red murmured, wrapping his arms around himself. "Can…can you talk to me?"

"About what?" Warmth spread through Lance's chest; Red was quiet and closed off to most people, but he trusted Lance enough to come to him now.

"Anything," Red whispered, and he looked so small sitting there, hugging himself. "Please. I-I can't-"

"Okay," Lance said, leaning into his elbows. "Okay. Did I ever tell you about that time my bio teacher thought Pidge was my little sister?"

Red shook his head.

"She had me in a headlock, the little gremlin," Lance explained, smiling at the memory. "And Mrs Ryner saw and thought she was teasing her older brother."

Red's lips ticked up at the corners, and some of the tension bled from his shoulders.

"Mrs Ryner's pretty cool, though," Lance said, eager to fill the space. Talking was what he was good at, and if Red needed him to talk then he would talk. "She's had like, seven concussions in her lifetime, so she's crazy scatterbrained."

"So, you?" Red's smirk wasn't quite as big as it used to be, but it was something.

"Nah, man, she makes me look calm!" Lance gestured wildly. "She has a bunny named Ivy, and she lets her out sometimes to run around the classroom while we work."

Red let out a surprised laugh. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious," Lance confirmed. "And that's just one of the weird things she does. It's a very chaotic place."

"Sounds like it," Red said, and for a moment he looked less like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and more like a normal teen talking to a friend.

Lance could pinpoint the moment Red remembered. His shoulders tensed up, the smile dropped from his face, and he looked away.

"Hey, man…are you sure you're okay?" Lance asked tentatively.

He half-expected Red to insist he was fine as always, so Lance was surprised when the other shook his head.

"I can't lose him," he whispered. Lance could barely hear him. "He's… he's all I have right now. I can't lose anyone else." His voice broke, and so did Lance's heart.

They all knew that Keith had had a difficult childhood, being bounced from foster home to foster home after his father died. Black had been the one to bring Red into a good, stable home where he was loved and supported.

And now Black was in the hospital, and nobody knew if he would make it.

Lance couldn't even imagine how Red felt right now. He couldn't even fathom it.

“What can I do to help?” Lance asked, resting his elbows on the table.

“You’re already helping,” Red murmured, resting his chin on his arms.

They talked for a few more hours, until Lance realized it was nearly midnight.

“Aw, man, I’d better be going to bed,” he said, turning back to the screen. “It’s pretty late over here.”

Red nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

Lance paused, peering at Red through the screen. “You sure you’ll be okay, man?”

Red smiled a little. “I am now.”

Trying to ignore how that made his poor bi heart explode, Lance grinned. “Glad to hear it, Red. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Oh, and Lance?”

“Yeah?”

Red paused, looking a little nervous. Finally he seemed to gather his courage. “You can call me Keith.”

They continued to call each other nearly every night. They usually didn’t talk about Black; instead, Lance would tell Keith all about his day, and all the funny things that happened. He wanted to make Keith smile after a long day, and it was a small victory every time he did.

When Black-Shiro, Keith said his name was-finally came home from the hospital weeks later, missing an arm and with a scarred face, Lance informed Keith that he was going to throw a party. Keith had laughed and told him to bring him some food.

Of course, Lance knew Keith had been joking, but he felt this was an occasion that permitted something a little more than a smile and a nice text.

And so, with his mother’s permission, Lance and Pidge climbed into the McClain family’s huge blue minivan. They picked up Hunk from his house, and drove on to Allura’s, then Romelle’s. It was an all-day trip; Romelle and Allura both lived about two hours away from Lance and Pidge, in the opposite direction from Keith and Shiro.

But none of them cared about the long drive, or the cramped vehicle, or even Lance’s loud music. Well, Pidge complained about Lance’s music. Other than that, though, they were perfectly happy to drive for hours on end.

When they reached Keith and Shiro’s hometown, Pidge directed Lance to their house. She’d known the two brothers for a long time, since her brother and Shiro were good friends, and so she’d been to their house before.

Lance pulled up the drive and parked the van. His friends piled out, groaning and stretching their legs, and slowly trooped up to the front door.

Pidge knocked, and they waited.

Lance swallowed and wiped his palms on his jeans. He was nervous, okay! It wasn’t every day that he met his crush in person for the first time, after weeks of late-night chats and growing closer than ever.

When Keith opened the door, he froze, his eyes moving over the assembled crowd. Romelle and Hunk waved cheerily, and Allura smiled gently.

Keith’s eyes stopped on Lance, and a smile slowly spread across his face.

“You came,” he said softly. “You…you actually came.”

“I brought food,” Lance said, gesturing to the van.

Keith laughed and pulled Lance into a hug. Lance didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around Keith, hugging him tight.

“Thank you,” Keith whispered into his shoulder.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” Lance reminded him.

Keith pulled back, wiping at his eyes. “Come on in,” he said, stepping aside. “Shiro’ll want to see everybody.”

Everyone gave Keith a hug as they filed past, and he seemed to brighten with each one. By the time Hunk set him down and entered the house, Keith was beaming.

Lance fell into step beside him as they both walked inside. Keith bumped shoulders with him, grinning from ear to ear. Lance nudged him back, feeling something warm bubble in his chest when Keith laughed.

And Lance thought, Everything’s going to be okay.

Chapter 8: I Don't Think Now's The Best Time

Chapter Text

Some said hell was fire and heat, raging devils and pools of brimstone. They said it was blazing, roaring flames, the echoing screams of the damned and the sharp cackles of the demons as they tormented them all for eternity.

That wasn’t hell, not true hell.

The creak of ropes, the deafening boom of cannons, the shouts and clangs of battle, the crunch of wood as ships, beautiful, powerful, proud ships, sank beneath the waves. That was hell. The fact that Lance McClain and his closest friends, his family, were battling for their lives, for their very existence against a fleet that had numbers far greater than their own. Because if they lost…everyone Lance loved would see the gallows. That was hell.

Pidge yelled as they launched into battle, swinging their grappling hook in a wide circle, beating back their enemies. They snagged one enemy sailor and swung him around with their surprising strength, smashing him into masts and railings before finally yeeting him over the edge into the churning water. Despite their size, the tiny captain of The Green Lion was one of their fiercest fighters, ruthless and aggressive to make up for their small frame.

Hunk bellowed as he threw sailors aside with massive sweeps of his huge staff. A lesser man would have struggled to lift the thick pole of wood, but the captain of The Yellow Lion was mighty; he lifted and swung it as easily as if it were made of paper. Enemies scattered before him; he was as large as a bear, and just as terrifying when he fought. He was one of Lance’s closest friends, and could definitely be called a “gentle giant,” but when he was in battle he was an unstoppable force of nature.

Allura, the captain of the Voltron flagship, The Castle, was as lovely and terrifying as ever. The Castle’s cannons erupted with fire, manned by Coran, who shouted in anger and defiance.

Allura herself was at the wheel, grunting as she turned The Castle about, wincing as an enemy hit smashed into the lower decks.

The Black Lion was sinking, the pirates aboard scrambling to climb aboard a nearby ship. Shiro was standing on the deck, getting his men to safety. When all were aboard The Red Lion, Shiro clambered aboard, accepting the hand his brother offered.

Keith was fierce. He shouted above the din for the cannons, and an answering boom echoed from The Red Lion’s cannon bays. Lance couldn’t see it, but he knew Keith wore the blue bandanna tied around his wrist. Just as Lance wore a red one around his bicep.

“Turn her about!” Lance ordered, unholstering one of his pistols. Plaxum obeyed, and Lance took a moment to revel in the feeling of The Blue Lion shifting beneath his feet. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, the love of his life.

Well, one of them.

They approached, and Blaytz roared for cannons. They echoed across the water, and Lance was certain that he would go deaf.

He grunted as enemy cannons smashed into Blue’s side, sending chunks of wood flying. One piece of wood grazed his cheek, leaving a shallow cut.

“Captain! She’s going down!” Swirn yelled. “I can’t keep her afloat! Her hull is too damaged!”

Lance swore, ducking beneath a rattle of gunfire from another ship. “Signal one of the Lions!” he yelled back. “Whoever’s closest!”

His heart clenched as the deck tilted beneath his feet; Swirn was right. The Blue Lion was going down. His beautiful girl, his pride and joy…was sinking beneath the waves.

“The Red Lion has been signalled,” Swirn shouted. “The Red Captain is on his way!”

“Thank God,” Lance gasped, stumbling as Blue’s deck lurched again. He nearly flipped over the edge, but Luxia lurched forward and clamped onto his hand, keeping him aboard. She hauled him up in time for Lance to see the chipped red paint of The Red Lion, in front of a backdrop of explosions and battling ships.

“Everyone aboard The Red Lion,” Lance ordered, yelling to be heard above the din of battle. “Hop to it! We don’t have all day!”

His crew began to make their way to their sister ship, where Keith’s men stood waiting, arms outstretched for their allies and friends.

“Are you going down with Blue?” Luxia asked, hauling Lance to his feet.

Lance shook his head. “This battle isn’t over yet. I still want to give Zarkon a little of what’s coming to him.” Besides, Lance thought, I have someone to live for.

Luxia nodded, and Lance told her to get to Red. He wouldn’t leave this ship until everyone was off it.

Lance glanced up as Luxia departed, and met Keith’s eyes from across the chasm between their ships. Keith’s eyes were wide, and his mouth moved, probably telling Lance to hurry.

Lance saluted with two fingers before disappearing belowdecks. His men were clustered about, trying to stop the spray of water as the ship slowly filled.

“Leave her!” Lance yelled, ignoring how his heart broke with the words. “Let’s go! We’ve got a battle to win!”

His men looked at each other, then at their captain, then began to rush the stairs. Lance waved them up, mentally counting each one. He wasn’t going to leave a man behind.

When belowdecks were emptied, Lance pounded up the stairs, ignoring the rising water that lapped at his ankles. Up above, sparks flew in all directions as cannonballs rocketed through the air. If he didn’t make it off the ship before the oily water reached the powder kegs…he was a dead man.

Lance sprinted for the railing, and below his feet the ship exploded.

Keith screamed as The Blue Lion exploded, sending flaming chunks of wood soaring in all directions. Heat slapped him in the face, and smoke billowed upward.

“Lance!” Keith shrieked, moving for the railing with every intention to jump overboard and find him.

Shiro grabbed him by the back of his long red coat and hauled him back. “No! Keith, your crew still needs you!”

Keith fought to escape Shiro’s grip, nearly going mad with grief and horror. But the captain of The Black Lion was stronger, and Keith stayed where he was.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. His chest seized up, and Keith couldn’t breathe.

Shiro was rubbing Keith’s back and murmuring in his ear, but Keith couldn’t hear him. His ears were ringing, and his mouth was dry, and he couldn’t comprehend the very real fact that Lance was probably gone.

Then there was an uproar from Lance’s crew, the ones who had scrambled aboard just moments before The Blue Lion lit up.

“The captain lives!” Rolo shouted, throwing an arm around Nyma.

This time, when Keith moved, Shiro didn’t stop him. He ran to the railing and peered over, nearly collapsing with relief when he saw Lance swimming for The Red Lion, wet and singed, but alive.

Keith ran down the steps to the main deck as Lance was hauled aboard, dripping onto the already soaked wood boards.

He pushed through the crowd of rejoicing pirates, pulling Lance into a fierce hug, not caring that the other was completely soaked.

Lance chuckled in his ear. “Miss me, Samurai?”

Keith pulled back in answer, hands rising to Lance’s cheeks. He tilted Lance’s head this way and that, scanning for injury. “Are you okay?” He brushed his thumb over the cut on Lance's cheek, and he winced a little.

“A little burned, but I’ll manage,” Lance said, his face still trapped between Keith’s hands. “Speaking of the battle, we should probably, I dunno, fight before we’re all captured or killed and all pirates will be hunted down to the end of the earth forever?”

Keith huffed out a laugh. “That’s not happening on my watch.”

“Keith!” Shiro yelled from his place by the wheel. “We’re heading for a collision with Naxzela!”

“Hold our course!” Keith yelled, running up the stairs, Lance on his heels. “We need to take her out before she can get to The Castle!”

Lance exhaled shakily as they reached the upper deck and got a full view of the battle raging around them. “We’ve got our work cut out for us,” he murmured, curling his fingers around Keith’s wrist.

“Let’s show them what happens when you mess with the Voltron Fleet,” Keith said back, squeezing Lance’s hand hard before letting go and stepping to the wheel.

The Red Lion powered through the water, and there were shouts from Keith, Lance, and Shiro’s combined crews as they approached the Galra ship.

As they neared, Lance could see the sailors of the Naxzela preparing grappling hooks and ropes.

“Prepare to be boarded!” he yelled. The enemy sailors swung across the chasm, and weapons were drawn all across The Red Lion. Lance unholstered his dual pistols, and Keith unsheathed his katana. They moved to stand back to back as the enemies appeared on all sides.

Lance’s guns went off, smearing his face with powder; Keith’s blade flashed silver, and Galra went down left and right.

The battle was fierce and fast; Lance dropped his pistols in frustration when he ran out of bullets, drawing his broadsword instead. He and Keith battled side by side, watching each other’s backs like they’ve always done.

But it was a battle, it was war, it was hell, and Lance knew very well that they might not survive this day.

“Keith!” Lance called, glanced over at his boyfriend. In a brief lull of battle, Lance grabbed Keith’s arm, pulling him closer. “Will you marry me?”

Keith pulled himself from Lance’s grasp, ducking beneath a swinging sword. “I don’t think now is the best time!” he protested. His hair was escaping his braid, inky wet strands framing his face as he whirled to behead a Galra sailor.

Lance kicked an enemy in the face, sending her tumbling over the railing into the water. “Now might be the only time!” he yelled back. Lance ducked beneath another Galra’s outstretched arm, knocking the pistol from his hand before he could shoot at Keith.

Keith whirled, the long tails of his dark red coat flying out behind him as his blade flashed silver with deadly accuracy. They came together again, pushing and pulling like the tide, meeting in the middle.

Lance gripped Keith’s wrist, lowering his sword. “I love you, Keith,” he said. He reached over to take out a Galra coming up behind them, and Keith swiped his sword across the throat of another. “I’ve made my choice,” Lance said when he was finished. His grip on Keith’s wrist tightened. “What is yours?”

Keith hesitated, then yelled, “Shiro! Marry us!”

The captain of The Black Lion turned to them, dodging a deadly swipe from a sword. “I’m a little busy at the moment!”

Lance and Keith grinned at each other before whirling to continue the battle. They fought back to back, swords flashing in the light as they dueled with their Galra opponents.

“Shiro, now!” Lance yelled.

“Fine!” Shiro shouted back, kicking a Galra in the face. He beat back the others coming at him, cutting and hitting and firing his gun in their faces.

Keith whirled, cleanly slicing through an enemy’s throat, and Lance kicked a man in the chest, stabbing him in the gut to follow up.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” Shiro cut off to bodyslam a Galra over the edge, “...to nail your gizzard to the mast, you mangy sh*thead!”

“Keith Kogane!” Lance shouted, ducking beneath a strike and swiping his broadsword across the woman’s throat. He whirled around to face Keith and meet his eyes. “Do you take me to be your husband?”

Keith grinned. “I do!”

Lance blinked, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Great!”

They split apart again to battle, Keith sliding beneath a Galra’s strike and coming up with a hard swing that took him down. Lance planted a hand on the railing to swing around to land a solid kick to the side of another man’s face; he fell over the edge and into the water with a yelp of pain.

“Lance McClain!” Keith yelled, stabbing a woman in the heart before whirling to face the other. “Do you take me to be your husband?”

Lance took out another Galra with a flourish of his blades, turning to meet Keith in the middle again. “I do,” he said.

“As captain of The Black Lion, I now pronounce you-” Shiro cut off to duck beneath a deadly swing, kicking his attacker hard in the knee. “You may kiss-” Again, he was interrupted, forced to dive aside before a pistol went off. Shiro hit the gun from the man’s hand, shooting him to keep him down. “You may kiss-”

He cut off in a yelp when a cannonball exploded right above his head; Shiro hit the deck, rolling away from the falling shrapnel. He came up, missing his hat, hair disheveled, and yelled, “JUST KISS!”

Keith kicked an enemy hard in the chest, sending them toppling over the railing, and Lance sliced his opponent’s throat. They met in the middle yet again, and Keith pulled Lance into the kiss. They stood there in the middle of the battle, as Shiro battled to keep enemies away while they were otherwise occupied.

When they broke apart, Lance was beaming, and Keith was smiling, too. They leapt back into the fray, battling back to back as they always did, battling for each other, their friends, their future together.

And with motivations like that, there’s no way they couldn’t win.

Chapter 9: Stronger Together

Chapter Text

Lance burst over the finish line with a grin, slowing and placing his hands on his head to catch his breath. “Keep up with me, Samurai.”

Keith glared at him, face red with exertion, hands resting on his knees as he tried to regain his breath. “f*ck…you,” he gasped.

Lance smirked. “Maybe later.”

Pidge rolled her eyes at Allura from where they were stretching by the bleachers. “I can’t believe them,” she complained. “Of all the ways to flirt, why do they compete with each other?”

Allura sighed and shook her head. “It’s painful to watch, isn’t it? Although, given their history, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Pidge hummed. “Yeah, true.” Lance and Keith had been arguing almost since the day they met. They argued since then when they developed crushes on each other, they argued when they first started dating, and they argued now, when they’ve been together for years.

Pidge thought Matt and his various partners over the years had been bad; but Lance and Keith were torture.

She finished stretching her calves and stepped back, heading for the track for practice. Shiro and Hunk were already there, both helping the other stretch out. Allura was following behind Pidge, and Lance and Keith were coming as well, Lance with an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“All right guys, team meeting,” Shiro announced, rising fluidly to his feet.

They reached the middle of the field and all sat in a circle. Pidge sprawled out all her limbs, enjoying the sensation of the grass and sun on her bare legs. Allura sank down, leaning back on her hands with her legs crossed. Keith leaned on Lance’s shoulder, the latter with his legs sprawled out in front of him.

“We’re going to try for the national competition this year,” Shiro said, leaning back. His prosthetic arm gleamed in the sunlight. “We’ll have to beat the team at Galra University, but I think we’ve got a good shot for it.”

“Yes,” Allura broke in, flipping her silver ponytail over her shoulder. “We’re an excellent team, and we can beat them easily.”

Pidge nudged Lance, who was absently carding his fingers through Keith’s hair as the latter rested his head in Lance’s lap.

“Ya hear that? We’re gonna beat Lotor.”

Lance grinned, pumping his fist. “Hell yeah!”

“We can’t become complacent though,” Allura reminded them. “We have to work everyday to become stronger together.”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with that,” he mumbled, an arm thrown over his eyes to block out the sun. “Anything to beat Lotor’s ass.”

“We’ve got this though,” Hunk said, lightly tapping Keith’s thigh. “I mean, we’re Team Voltron! There’s nothing we can’t do together!”

He was right.

Pidge sat back, observing their friends. Shiro, with his scarred face and gentle leadership, Allura with her beaming smiles and badass personality, Hunk with his bright smiles and rock-solid support, Keith with his jokes and protectiveness, Lance with his loud laughs and long, lanky limbs…together, they could do anything.

Chapter 10: parks are for tired college students, not kids

Chapter Text

“So you’re telling me that a park is for children?” Lance asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I have never, nor will I ever say that,” Pidge responded from behind her laptop. “If we go to the park I will love you forever.”

“Aww,” Lance cooed, ruffling Pidge’s hair. “You do have emotions!”

Pidge hissed like a cat and batted his hand away. “Unfortunately yes, and the only emotion I’m feeling right now is rage. Back off.”

Lance laughed and backed away; he’d known Pidge long enough to be able to sense when she was ready to bite his arm to get some personal space.

“I have not had a full night of sleep in more than a decade,” Pidge huffed, returning to her typing. “And my chem professor wants this by tomorrow.”

“That’s not good for you, Pidge,” Shiro sighed, sinking down into the chair beside her.

Adam perched in the chair next to Shiro, crossing his arms. “Funny,” he muttered. “I distinctly remember having to cover you with a blanket because you fell asleep at the desk at one in the morning.”

Shiro spluttered. “I had a paper due today!”

“Practice what you preach is all I’m saying,” Adam said, leaning back in his chair.

Shiro sighed, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know why I even bother,” he grumbled.

“Because you love me,” Adam said, reaching behind his boyfriend to high-five Pidge.

Next to Lance, Hunk groaned, dropping his face to the table.

“What’s up, man?” Lance asked, peering at Hunk from the side.

“Calculus,” Hunk mumbled, his face still pressed against the table.

Lance nodded in understanding and patted his back. “There, there.”

Allura sighed, sinking lower into her seat. “I crave death,” she complained.

Keith huffed in agreement, hunching over his sketchpad. Lance could see the beginnings of Shiro and Adam’s faces, but judging by the frustrated scribbles over Shiro’s nose, it wasn’t going well.

Lance sighed and looked down at his own homework. He’d never been able to understand biology, so this was a particular brand of suffering.

The group worked in silence for several minutes, each consumed with dread at their own mountains of homework.

Finally, Hunk had had enough. He stood, kicking back his chair and stretching.

“I have been sitting here for half an hour,” he grumbled. “I am done.”

Keith grunted. “Like, done with your homework, or…”

“Nope,” Hunk said, closing his textbook with a snap. “Just done.”

“Mood,” Pidge muttered, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Maybe we should all take a break,” Shiro suggested, pushing back from the table. “What do you gays think?”

Adam snorted. “‘Gays.’”

Shiro sighed. “I’m running on two hours of sleep. What do you expect? I meant ‘guys!’”

“He’s not wrong, though,” Pidge pointed out. “We’re all gay.”

Everyone shrugged in agreement.

“I think a break would be lovely,” Allura admitted, pushing her textbook away. “My eyes are burning.”

“What should we do?” Hunk asked, sitting back down to put his things away. “I don’t have a whole lot of money, so I don’t think I’d be able to go out to a cafe or something like that.”

“Hunk, none of us have very much money,” Keith sighed, placing his pencil down and flipping the sketchbook shut. He yawned and wiped a hand over his face, leaning on Lance’s shoulder.

“You got me there,” Hunk admitted.

Lance wrapped an arm around Keith’s waist to keep him from falling off the chair. “So, what should we do, then? I think Keith’s about to fall asleep on me.”

“Am not,” Keith grumbled, burying his face in Lance’s shoulder.

Adam cooed. “Aw, you two are adorable.” He nudged Shiro’s arm. “Why can’t we be like that?”

Shiro sighed. “Because you’re too hyperactive to hold still long enough for me to fall asleep on you like that.”

Adam shrugged. “Well, fair.”

Lance sighed, pulling Keith a little closer so he was comfortable. Then a thought occurred to him, and he straightened. Keith grumbled in protest, and Lance squeezed his waist in silent apology.

“Guys, what if we went to the park?” Lance asked, glancing around at his friends. “Pidge and I were just talking about it, but what if we did? It’s free, after all.”

There were shrugs all around,

“Sounds good to me,” Hunk said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Pidge sighed, packing her laptop away. “I can’t believe you guys are making me go out in the light,” she grumbled. An impish grin spread across her face. “Or should I say, gays.”

Shiro sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It was a slip of the tongue. Will you ever let me forget that?”
Allura shoved his shoulder. “Nope!”

Lance stood, gently drawing Keith up with him. “Come on, let’s go!”

They all trailed behind while Lance practically bounded to the park like a golden retriever on his way to the door for a walk.

They found him sitting at the top of the slide amongst a horde of children. He slid down with a loud whoop, even though the slide was about as long as he was tall.

Pidge cackled and ran for the swings; Hunk helped her climb into the baby ones, sliding her legs through the holes and pushing her when she was inside.

Allura was crossing the monkey bars at an alarming speed; she was tall enough to walk across the ground if she wanted to, but she curled her knees up to her chest in an astonishing show of core strength instead.

Adam joined Lance on the slides, and was now pushing the younger student down with a cackle.

“I’m the king!” Adam crowed as Lance picked himself up with a scowl, brushing dust from his shirt.

Shiro stood watching the chaos unfold with a long, heavy sigh. Then Keith shoved him-hard.

Shiro straightened with an indignant splutter. “Hey!”

“You’re it!” Keith laughed, sprinting away.

“Oh, I don’t think so!” Shiro ran after his brother with every intention to rub his face into the dirt.

Problem was, Keith was fast. He’d been on the track team in high school, and could outsprint Shiro any day.

Keith was far ahead of him when Shiro began to slow, losing his energy. He caught sight of Pidge, still in the baby swing, and swatted her knee.

“You’re it!”

Pidge squawked in outrage, trying to extricate herself from the swing. “Dammit Shiro, wait until I’m ready!”

“Too late!” Shiro raced away, bounding up the stairs of the playground. At the top, Adam grinned, holding out a hand. Shiro took it, and Adam threw him onto the slide and pushed him down.

He yelped in surprise, and Adam cackled.

Lance body-slammed Adam from the side with a triumphant laugh, pushing him down the slide, too.

“Treason!” Adam bellowed as he slid into Shiro. “Off with his head!”

“Gotta catch me first!” Lance countered, sticking out his tongue. Keith appeared at his side, out of breath.

“Did we win?”

Lance laughed, throwing an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Hell yeah we did! We’re the kings!”

Keith smirked. “I think you mean I’m the king.” He shoved Lance down the slide; the lanky boy slid into Adam; Shiro slid off the end of the slide with a yelp.

“Rude!” Lance yelled, shaking his fist. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight!”

Hunk helped Shiro stand, patting him on the back with a huge hand. “We’ll get him back,” he promised.

Beside Lance, Adam wriggled off the slide. “He’s going down,” he grumbled.

“I was the one who overthrew you, though,” Lance reminded him.

“True, but he’s the one who made it so I couldn’t exact my revenge,” Adam replied.

They tried to storm the playground, but Keith had been joined by Pidge; the two were an unstoppable force. Keith was fast, and Pidge was surprisingly strong for her size.

Keith grinned as he pushed Adam away from the stairs. “Stop trying! You can’t beat us!”

“Like hell I can!” Adam yelled, moving forward. Shiro had to hold him back; he thrashed wildly, trying to get at Keith.

Shiro hauled Adam back. “Stop, we’re scaring the kids.”

Adam grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, likely a string of swears.

Then Pidge appeared behind Keith, grinning wickedly. She rammed into him with all her might, sending him flying off the playground.

Keith hit the ground with a thud, rolling over to stare at Pidge with wide-eyed betrayal.

Pidge grinned. “I win. You all have to pay me money now.”

Everyone groaned and complained as they picked themselves up to get ready to head back. Lance flicked Keith on the forehead, and the latter hissed.

“What was that for?”

“I told you,” Lance said, shooting him a grin as he walked ahead. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Keith sighed. “If you say so.”

They were all out of breath and smeared with dust, but Keith realized that there was nothing he’d have rather done.

Chapter 11: new status

Chapter Text

“So, what are your thoughts on this new season of Voltron?”

Lance grinned, leaning forward on his knees. “Well, for the sake of spoilers I can’t say much, but I can say that fans are going to love it.”

Coran chuckled. “I’m sure they will. This show has become a hit in the two years since its pilot episode!” He turned to the other actor. “And what about you, Keith?”

Keith shrugged. “I’m excited for everyone to see it,” he said. “Everyone’s been working hard, and it looks amazing.”

Coran smiled and sat back. “And how do you feel about your co-stars? You work with quite the talented cast!”

“They’re so amazing,” Lance gushed, grinning at Keith. “Everyone’s so nice, and we have a lot of fun together.”

“I have never worked with such an amazing cast,” Keith agreed. “They’re incredible.”

Lance grinned and turned to Keith. “Oh my God, remember when Pidge accidentally drank my energy drink? She was bouncing off the walls.”

Keith laughed. “That was awesome,” he murmured. “Or the time Shiro left his prosthetic arm lying around set and scared Hunk.”

Lance bumped his shoulder, grinning at Coran. “He still checks the couch for loose arms before sitting down.”

Coran chuckled. “It sounds like a fun time! Now, there are some questions here from the fans. Are you ready?”

The two nodded, settling in for the interview.

“First of all,” Coran said, clearing his throat, “there have been rumors of a deeper relationship between you two. Is there any way you can shed light on that?”

Keith and Lance exchanged glances; the corner of Keith’s mouth twitched upward, and Lance grinned back. They lifted their hands, and Coran gasped.

They were holding hands, and wearing rings.

“Is this a prank?” Coran asked, fixing them with a stern stare; they had done a prank war in the early days of production, and Coran didn’t entirely trust them to not do so now.

Keith shook his head, grinning so widely his cheeks hurt.

“It’s real,” Lance assured him, nudging Keith’s shoulder with his elbow.

“Congratulations to you both!” Coran exclaimed, beaming with happiness; he had a soft spot for both boys, and was overjoyed to hear such happy news. “May I ask who did the asking?”

Lance burst out into a laugh. “Actually, this is a funny story. It turns out we were both planning on asking on the same day!”

Coran’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

Keith buried his face in Lance’s shoulder, shaking from his laughter.

“Keith asked first,” Lance explained, barely refraining from laughing, “and after he asked, I did, too.”

Coran laughed, sitting back. “That sounds like quite the story!”

“It is,” Keith gasped, wiping tears away. “I will never be able to get over that!”

“I’m happy for you both!” Coran beamed, clasping his hands together. “I’m invited to the wedding, I hope?”

Lance and Keith both laughed. “We wouldn’t dream of leaving you out!” Lance assured.

Coran smiled. It would be good to see his niece again. And it was lovely to see two of the actors that he knew like his own children be so happy together.

Chapter 12: Neon Streets and Neon Hearts

Chapter Text

“Still not sure about this, guys.” Hunare’s worried voice crackled over the comms.

“We’ll be fine,” Hiroshi reminded him. “All we have to do is make sure everyone does their part.”

“Shh,” Akira mumbled. “We’re trying to focus here.” He and Dante were crouched by the door, hacking into the Galra building with some of Petra’s tech. The neon lights from the city reflected off Akira’s blades that were strapped to his back, and Dante’s electric spear.

Leandro swept his gaze back and forth from his perch on a roof a block away, peering through the sight of his rifle. It was a dangerous mission today; of course, every day was dangerous when they couldn’t even leave their hidden base without all the Enforcers in the city converging to arrest their asses, but tonight’s outing was particularly risky.

They were stealing intel from right underneath the Galra’s noses.

Well, Dante and Akira were. Leandro was their support from his perch on the roof; Alzina and Hiroshi had decided that a small group was best for this op. Hiroshi and Hunare were waiting a few blocks away to provide backup if needed, but other than that they were on their own.

The electronic lock beeped in Dante’s hand, and the door slid open with a hiss. Akira slipped inside, hands on his blades. Dante followed after, his electric spear at the ready.

Leandro kept his gaze on the door as it slid shut, then he raised his gaze to the roof of the Galra building, where the silhouettes of two guards were patrolling.

He lifted his rifle, squeezed the trigger once, twice; the silhouettes crumpled to the ground.

“Roof secure,” he murmured.

“I’m heading into the AI room,” Akira replied, short and terse. “We’ve got about a minute before the alarm triggers.”

“I’m working on that now,” Dante reported.

Leandro waited, taut as a bowstring as Akira and Dante got to work. Dante was their second-best hacker; Petra was off on another mission, but they were using some of her tech. He’d make short work of the alarm system.

Dante swore over the comms, voice laced with panic. “They’ve upped their game; I've never seen tech like this before. I can’t hack it in time!”

Or not.

“Get out of there, now!” Hiroshi was obviously trying not to panic, but his fiance and little brother were both in danger.

“I’ve got the drive,” Akira said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Then the alarms began to blare, wailing klaxons accompanied by flashing red lights.

Dante and Leandro both let loose with a steam of curses; Akira was silent, but Leandro knew him well enough to know that he was cursing internally.

The lights of the Enforcer barracks flickered on; soon enough the streets would be swarming with those robotic bastards. They had to be long gone before then.

Leandro trained his rifle on the street below as guards-flesh and blood humans, not Enforcers-ran for the building, weapons ready. He picked them off one by one, silent beams of blue erupting from the end of his rifle.

“I’m holding them off so far,” he said, “but once those Enforcers are out I won’t be able to keep them all back.”

“We’re on our way,” Hunare said. “Can you hold them off until then?”

The doors of the Enforcer barracks slid open, and the robotic soldiers began to march out in twos. Leandro swore.

“I’ll try, but the metalheads are here.” He swung his rifle around, taking careful aim. Enforcers were smart; it wouldn’t take them long to realize where the gunfire was coming from. He had to be ready to run like hell.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

And fire.

Once he started, he didn’t stop; Enforcers fell one by one, wires sparking from the holes in their foreheads.

The destroyed robots were beginning to pile up at the entrance, but the Enforcers behind them blasted through with their plasma cannons. He could see the moment they realized where the shooter was; as one, they lifted their arms, the cannons spinning to take aim.

Leandro moved just before they fired. He leapt to the next roof over as the place where he had been stationed just a moment earlier went up in flames.

He hit the ground in a roll and came up running.

“They’ve seen me,” he reported, leaping over the ledge and onto the next roof. “I’ll draw them off!”

“Don’t die,” Akira said, uncharacteristically soft.

“I won’t if you won’t,” Leandro replied. It was their code, what they said to each other before going out on dangerous missions. It was a wish for good luck, and a silent “I love you.”

Leandro could hear the sounds of the Enforcers tearing after him, clanking down the street. For robots, they were freakishly fast. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long.

At least they’re coming after me instead of the others. Leandro would rather have all the Enforcers in the city come after him then put his friends and Akira in danger.

He heard the telltale whine of a cannon powering up, and dove aside. The section of roof where he had been standing exploded, and the force sent Leandro flying. He grabbed the edge of the flat roof, his body slamming into the wall hard.

The Enforcers aimed their cannons at him, dangling from the rooftop; Leandro pulled himself up with a grunt, silently thanking Hiroshi for all those intense training exercises. He was off again, sprinting across the flat rooftops and leaping between the gaps.

Then there was the roar of a jetpack, and an Enforcer appeared between two buildings, right in front of him.

This one was different from the others; its metal shell was darker, thicker; its cannons were smaller and sleeker, and its boots operated as a sort of jetpack.

Leandro swore and skidded to a stop, drawing his pistols. He rapid-fired, but the beams just bounced off the new Enforcer’s outer shell, hardly leaving a scratch.

It lifted its arms, and the cannons began to glow as they charged up.

Leandro dove aside as they fired, and yelled as the force of the blast threw him from the roof. He landed just like Alzina had taught them all, tucking into a roll to absorb the fall and coming up standing in the middle of the abandoned street. The flying Enforcer shot toward him, and Leandro sprinted for all he was worth.

The robot landed on a car, crushing the hood and shattering the windshield; it stepped off and ran after Leandro.

He dove into an alley, zig-zagging across the ground to make it harder for the Enforcer to aim.

Just my luck. I get to be the guinea pig for whatever new sh*t the Galra made.

His earpiece was fizzling static in his ear; the last blast must have fried it. Which meant he couldn’t call for backup.

Leandro skidded out onto a busy street, barely avoiding being clipped by a passing car. The Enforcer behind him had been joined by two more; all three were the newer models, the ones Leandro’s bullets didn’t affect.

He could see how this was going to end.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t give them one hell of a fight, first.

Leandro turned, unholstering his guns. The glowing eyes of the approaching Enforcers illuminated the alleyway in front of him, growing larger as his inevitable death approached.

Then there was the sound of a familiar engine roaring up the street, weaving in and out between cars.

The black-and-red motorcycle appeared, screeching to a stop behind Leandro.

“Leo! Come on!” Akira yelled; his hair was escaping the half-ponytail, framing his face with black strands. His goggles were pulled down over his eyes, his expression grim.

Leandro didn’t hesitate, swinging a leg up and climbing on behind his boyfriend. Akira revved the engine and shot forward, leaving the Enforcers behind.

Leandro wrapped one arm around Akira’s waist to stay on as he weaved between the cars; with the other, he held one of his pistols, keeping an eye out for pursuit.

Just as he suspected, the updated Enforcers appeared behind him, riding motorcycles with the purple Galran emblem on it.

Leandro tapped Akira’s shoulder three times, the signal for three pursuers.

The Galra motorcycles were fast. They came up on them quickly, fanning out on either side.

Akira hooked a sharp left, and Leandro had to hold onto him with both hands so he wouldn’t fall off.

One Enforcer couldn’t make the turn, and it crashed into another car with a blooming orange explosion.

The remaining two were keeping perfect pace with them, steadily moving up behind them.

The Enforcer that was right behind reached forward, electricity crackling between its fingers.

Akira moved then, his blade flashing silver. The Enforcer’s severed arm dropped to the ground, disappearing behind them. The Enforcer, despite the fact that it no longer had an arm, kept on them, raising its other hand to aim the plasma cannon.

“Leo!” Akira yelled, his hair whipping in the wind. “The wheel!”

Understanding instantly, Leandro whipped out his gun, taking aim at the front wheel of the Enforcer’s bike.

He fired.

The bike flipped with a horrible screech, and the second Enforcer slammed into the first with the horrible sound of crumpling metal. The explosion bloomed behind them, a rush of heat at their backs as the motorcycle shot back out into the street.

They didn’t slow, even as the sirens faded behind them; Akira only began to let off the speed as they neared the hidden base, far enough from the city that the neon lights faded away.

The hangar door slid open as they approached, and Akira pulled inside and cut the engine. Silence echoed around them, and Akira slumped back against Leandro’s chest, exhaling heavily.

“‘Kira?” Leandro’s hands moved from his waist to his biceps. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Akira sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I'm fine. It’s just…been a while since we’ve had a chase like that.” He pushed his goggles up his head with a heavy sigh.

“I know,” Leandro murmured, sliding off the motorcycle. “I’ve never seen any Enforcers like that. I couldn't even scratch them!”

Akira followed him down, shaking his hair from the half-ponytail. “We’d better tell Alzina,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Leandro agreed softly. She was the leader of their little resistance; she’d know what to do.

In the meantime, though, Leandro intended to go back to bed; he and Akira had earned a long cuddle session and an even longer nap.

Chapter 13: Disaster Gay, Meet Disaster Bi

Chapter Text

“Lance, you need to chill,” Pidge said from where she sat on his bed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is too a big deal!” Lance protested, throwing off his shirt with a frustrated groan. “What if he thinks I’m too loud? What if he cancels?”

“Dude, Keith’s your friend,” Hunk reasoned from where he sat on Lance’s bedroom floor, tinkering with scraps of metal. “He knows you already. It’s not like you’re just meeting him!”

“Yeah, he already knows you’re loud,” Pidge said, clopping her hooves against the wooden boards.

Lance huffed, pointed ears flicking back. “Thanks.”

“No problem!” Pidge chirped cheerfully.

“Seriously dude,” Hunk said, “you’ll be fine. He obviously likes you too, so what on earth are you so worried about?”

“I don’t know, man,” Lance sighed, “anxiety’s a bitch.”

“Mood,” Pidge muttered.

“Here,” Allura said, tossing a bundle of Lance’s clothes at him. “Try this one.”

“I trust your judgement more than I trust my own,” Lance sighed, moving into the bathroom to change for the umpteenth time.

“You should,” Allura teased, her silver hair glowing in the sunlight. “My judgement is the best you’ll ever get.”

Pidge flopped onto her back, her hooves only barely brushing the ground. “I wonder if Keith’s this nervous,” she muttered.

Hunk chuckled. “I doubt it. Nobody’s as high-strung as Lance.”

Keith groaned and flopped face first on the couch. “I am never leaving this house,” he grumbled.

Adam chuckled from where he sat on the counter. “That good, huh?”

Keith sighed, sitting up and shaking out his wings. “I should never have asked him,” he muttered. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What makes you think that?” Shiro asked, folding his arms across his chest. “Lance agreed, didn’t he?”
“Well yes, but-”

“Then why are you freaking out?” Adam tilted his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun sinking into his skin. “You’re reminding me of how Takashi was on our first date.”
“Hey!” Shiro’s black-and-white feathers bristled indignantly.

“I’m going to make a fool of myself,” Keith complained, covering his face with his wings like he used to do when he was younger. The dark crimson feathers quivered anxiously.

Adam sighed; while it was amusing, seeing his surrogate little brother have a meltdown, it was also slightly annoying.

“Keith, get your act together and get the hell out of this house. You’ve got a date to go on.”

“You’ll be fine, Keith,” Shiro said, brushing his brother’s wing with his own. “I promise.”

Keith uncurled with a long sigh. “Fine.”

“Loosen up,” Adam said, pushing him playfully.

Keith shoved him back. “I am loose.” He looked so tense, his feathers might fall out.

“We’ll see you tonight, okay?” Shiro patted Keith on the back.

Keith nodded, shaking out his wings. He spread them, the red feathers gleaming in the afternoon sun. He took off, quickly becoming a small speck in the distance. A solitary red feather drifted to the ground in his wake.

“I’ve never seen him that nervous,” Adam chuckled, turning to go back inside. The gold markings on his face were glowing slightly from their exposure to the sunlight; Shiro knew from experience that they would be pleasantly warm to the touch.

“He’ll be fine,” Shiro said. “He’s had a crush on this kid for ages; he’s not going to blow it now.”

Lance didn’t know why he was so worried. It was awkward at first, but once he and Keith started wandering the market, all Lance’s nerves and anxieties melted away. It was just like hanging out with a friend, except a little more intimate than that.

Keith’s feathers seemed to glow in the sunlight, his wings folded neatly behind him as they walked down the street, pointing out interesting things and bumping shoulders.

The backs of their hands brushed with every other step, and it took every bit of Lance’s willpower not to squeal every time it happened.

They stopped at a small cafe to get some food. Technically it was dinnertime, but Lance adamantly insisted that dinner was overrated anyway.

So they walked down the street with ice cream instead.

The sun was setting as they walked, casting long shadows on the cobblestone street. They weren’t talking anymore; there was no need for words anymore.

As the moon slowly rose, the silver markings on Lance’s cheeks began to glow, echoing the soft light of the moon. The glow illuminated Lance’s lashes fanning out over his cheeks, the contours of his cheekbones.

They paused in the middle of the main square, right where the roads branched off. It was here where they would part ways for the night.

“This was fun,” Keith admitted, glancing at Lance.

Lance scuffed the toe of his boot against the stones, his marks glowing with a newfound shyness.

Keith fidgeted his wings, ruffling his feathers.

Then Lance, gathering his courage, stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to Keith’s lips.

Keith blinked, his brain short-circuiting. Even though it had been a brief kiss, more of a peck than anything, he’d been able to tell that Lance’s lips were soft and warm.

“T-Thanks,” he stuttered, cheeks flaming.

Then he snapped his wings open and flew away into the night.

Lance chuckled to himself, turning to head home. He wasn’t the only nervous one, apparently.

He walked inside, and Pidge grinned, leaning off the banister. “So, how was it?”

Lance felt a shy smile spreading across his face. “It was good.”

Keith was assaulted by his brother’s fiance the moment he landed.

“How’d it go?” Adam asked, nudging Keith’s shoulder. He was wrapped in a blanket, and Keith was surprised to see him awake; normally, the sun elf fell asleep as soon as the sun set. Apparently he’d waited up to get the latest gossip.

Unfortunately, Keith was still malfunctioning from the kiss. He brushed past Adam, mumbling something about soft lips and pretty freckles.

Adam’s eyes widened, and he ran to get in front of Keith. “Did he kiss you?”

Keith nodded, his gaze far away, his cheeks still burning red.

“Well, what did you do?” Adam was dying to know.

Keith shrugged, looking like he might explode. “Thanked him,” he mumbled.

Adam felt his soul leave his body. He stared Keith in the eyes. “You…thanked him,” he deadpanned.

Keith nodded jerkily, stepping around Adam to get into the house.

Adam stayed where he was, his brain moving in circles. He muttered under his breath.

“Hell, someone needs to teach him how to function.”

Chapter 14: Isolated System

Chapter Text

He’d heard stories growing up about what hell was like. Horned devils carrying pitchforks, glowing pools of fire, stone-faced judges determining where spirits would spend all of eternity.

He’d used to wonder if those stories were true.

He didn’t need to anymore.

Because now he knew real hell, true hell…

was so much worse.

And nobody had seen this hell coming.

When the zombies appeared and the world came crashing down around him, Lance McClain was sixteen years old.

He was seventeen now. And he hadn’t seen his family in nearly a year.

Lance exhaled from where he sat atop the dark blue van that had become his home over the past year. They’d found it in an old parking garage near the beginning of all this; Hunk, the wonderful genius, had easily hotwired it so they could escape a cluster of zombies.

During a zombie apocalypse, there wasn’t much they could do to make a home for themselves, but they’d done their best with what they had. There was a mattress in the back of the van where they slept, and several cupboards where they kept their food and supplies. Pidge had scratched little designs into the cupboards with her makeshift spear, claiming it was her "artist's touch."

They didn't keep their weapons there, though. The first thing they had learned was to never, ever put your weapon down. Not even for a moment. Because that one moment of vulnerability was enough.

Lance had seen enough horrible deaths to know.

He gripped the bow a little tighter, finding security in the weapon. He’d always been a good shot, even when the stakes were just archery trophies and awards.

And now that his life, and his friends’ lives, depended on his accuracy?

He never missed. Not once.

They were parked on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere; no buildings or cars in sight. The zombies tended to group in places where they could easily hide. The stretches of highway that were clustered with old cars, the towns, the cities…those were the most dangerous areas. Because zombies usually traveled in groups, if there was one…there were dozens. Maybe even hundreds.

He didn’t know when he’d become so accustomed to this life. It used to be he needed a solid eight or nine hours of sleep, with a skincare routine and a soft, fluffy robe to wear to bed. He'd lived on his mama's homecooked meals, three a day.

Now he ran on only four hours, five if he was lucky; Lance couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually even seen a bottle of lotion, and he’d been wearing the same three sets of clothes for nearly a year. Now his meals were usually a single cold can of food, once a day. If he was lucky toget food every day.

They were the lucky ones, though. He’d seen other people on their journey through the desecrated country; some people didn’t have food, or clothes. One of the many advantages of having a vehicle was that they had much more room to store what they needed. Food, weapons, blankets, bottled water. He wouldn’t be surprised if some people had resorted to cannibalism to survive.

Part of him-the boy from before-had wanted to help them in any way that he could. But the boy now, the boy who had seen cities fall and governments collapse and people overrun by hordes of monsters, knew that he had to keep his friends safe. They were his only priority.

So Lance sat atop the van while Pidge and Hunk slept inside, his blue eyes flicking across the horizon for any signs of movement. It was the best vantage point he had, up there on the van, but in the event of an ambush it wouldn’t do much to protect him from the zoms. He’d seen them scale buildings before. His best bet would be to see the bastards before they saw him, and awaken his friends so they could escape.

He thanked the stars for the umpteenth time that Pidge and Hunk were as smart as they were. They’d figured out how to silence the engine, so it was nearly impossible for the zombies to hear the van. Without them, Lance would’ve been dead a hundred times over.

The sky in the far distance was beginning to brighten with the slowly rising sun, and Lance sighed, rising to his feet.

Time to start the day.

The van hummed gently as she drove across the crumbling asphalt. Pidge had somehow figured out how to make Blue, as Lance called the van fondly, run on solar energy. Of course they had gas, but it was a limited supply, and they couldn’t be sure if they’d be able to find more. So Pidge had somehow rigged up some homemade solar panels to power their little home. It was amazing that she’d done that in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, with only a box of scraps.

If things had been different, she would have been an amazing scientist.

Lance sighed and shoved the thought away; it was no good, thinking about what could have been. His whole life, his whole future was thrown in the toilet, but if he stopped to dwell on everything he’d lost, he would simply lie down and never rise again.

Hunk was driving, humming softly as Blue rumbled over the abandoned highway. Pidge was sitting in shotgun, curled up on the seat, face pressed to the window as the scenery drifted by.

Lance stood in between the seats, a hand on Pidge’s headrest to keep his balance. They’d all long since abandoned seatbelts and other forms of driving safety. Wearing a seatbelt wasn’t as much of a big deal when death could come from any direction at any time.

Besides, if for any reason they had to abandon Blue, a seatbelt would just delay them.

A sign was coming up on their right, and Lance peered at it. His heart dropped, and Lance clamped a hand over Hunk’s shoulder.

“Slow down!”

Hunk screeched to a halt, hand flying to the heavy bat that sat beside his seat. He’d somehow attached long, thick spikes to the length of the metal bat; that, combined with his strength, made a formidable weapon.

“It’s not that,” Lance said, batting Hunk’s hand away from the handle. “Look at the sign!”

Pidge sat up and peered out the windshield.

“Clinton,” she read aloud. “What’s in Clinton?”

Lance exhaled heavily. “Hopefully, my family,” he said finally. It had been a little inside joke for years, that if anything horrible ever happened, his mama could be found at her sister’s house in Clinton. Mama had always said it whenever Lance and his siblings had been particularly rowdy, with a sigh and a shake of her head.

It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was all he had.

Hunk hesitated, glancing at Lance. “We really need to restock,” he murmured. “The map says we need to go in the opposite direction to find anything we could use.”

“Clinton’s a smaller town,” Lance argued, “not a city.”

“It’s still too dangerous,” Pidge pointed out. “Even if there aren’t zoms there, the cars and rubble will block the way. Blue won’t be able to get in there.”

Lance paused; she was right, as usual.

He swallowed. “Then I’ll go, and you guys can take her the long way around.”

“What?” Hunk yelped, at the same time Pidge exclaimed, “Are you insane?”

“It’s the only way,” Lance said, fixing them both with a stare. “We can’t take Blue in there, and I’m not throwing away this chance. Besides, scavenging isn’t a one-person job anyway.”

Hunk wrung his hands, looking nervous, but Pidge sighed, slumping back.

“I know we can’t stop you,” she said, “not if you are sure this is what you want to do.”

Truthfully, the thought of walking through a town alone filled him with terror. But Lance wasn’t going to just keep driving; not when he had a chance to find his family.

“Be careful, man. Okay?” Hunk asked, fixing Lance with a stare. “Please be careful.”

“You know I will,” Lance promised.

“Meet us at the junction outside the city,” Pidge said, tapping on the place on the map. “We’ll wait for you if you're not there first.”

Lance nodded, stepping back to sling his quiver of arrows over his shoulder. The bow stayed in his hand. He also carried a long kitchen knife and a short spear that Pidge had made for him; it was always good to have a few melee weapons on hand. Just in case.

Hunk pulled over, and Lance stepped toward the back of the van. He glanced over his shoulder. “You guys be careful, okay?”

Hunk and Pidge nodded, and Lance stepped from the van. A moment later, Blue screeched away, moving back onto the road and shrinking until she became a small blue speck, then disappearing entirely.

Lance glanced up at the sign and sighed. Then he turned and walked into Clinton.

The silence was by far the most eerie thing about a zombie apocalypse. Of course, other than the fact that Lance spent every day trying to stay a step ahead of mindless monsters that wanted to tear his throat out.

But it was unspeakably eerie, walking through a place that had once been bustling with activity, to only find silence.

Lance remembered visits to Clinton as a child; it had been all busy streets, bustling people, car horns and engines and shouts across the road.

Now it was abandoned cars scattered over the street, crumbling buildings, and silence.

Lance warily crept from car to car, an arrow nocked in his bow. It made his arm a little tired, but he’d built up muscle in that area, and he would much rather have a sore arm than be dead.

It was so, eerily quiet; his pulse was racing with tension as he slowly moved toward his aunt’s house. He’d been on his own before, in short spans of time like this, but it had been quite a while. Safety and comfort in numbers. He’d forgotten how much more terrifying it was, moving through a zombie-infested city alone.

Thankfully, his aunt lived on the outskirts of the city, so Lance didn’t have to go far. He turned onto the street, grateful that the streets were clear. Zombies were usually more sluggish at this time; the most dangerous times were in the mornings and evenings, when it wasn’t too hot or cold. Pidge theorized that zombie bodies weren’t as hardy as humans, so they didn’t do well in temperatures that were too extreme in either direction.

Lance didn’t really care about the specifics; all that mattered to him was that most zombies weren’t out to kill him right now.

He slowly crept up the street, all of his senses alert. When he reached his aunt’s house, Lance eyes the boarded up windows, the tightly closed door.

He tried not to get his hopes up, but those were good signs. Houses that had been broken into by zoms had doors hanging haphazardly off their hinges, or gone entirely. Broken windows, holes in the walls, bodies strewn across the front lawn.

He saw none of that, which meant that someone had to be inside the house. Or had left recently.

But he tried not to think about that; if his family wasn’t here, he didn’t know where else they would be.

Lance slowly walked up the front steps, avoiding the boards that creaked. The doormat was still in place, though it was smeared with grime and dust, and faded from the sun.

The key was still underneath.

Lance slowly slid the door open, pushing hard against something heavy that was on the other side.

He slipped inside, and almost before he could think his bow was brought up, the arrow pulled back to his cheek.

The blade of a sword hovered only inches from his face, but Lance kept the arrow trained on the stranger in his aunt’s house.

He looked about Lance’s age, with tangled black hair pulled into a messy ponytail, and a tattered backpack. The arm holding the sword-a katana, Lance’s mind supplied-didn’t waver, and the boy’s piercing eyes were fixed on the arrow pointed at his face.

“You’re human,” the boy said finally, though he didn’t lower his sword.

“Uh, yeah!” Lance exclaimed. “Do you mind?” He motioned to the sword with his eyes.

The boy sighed, lowering it slowly, though he didn’t put it away. Lance lowered his bow, popping the arrow off the string.

“Sorry about that,” the boy sighed, sounding weary.

Lance stepped into the house, still keeping a hand on his bow. He wasn’t entirely sure he could trust this guy, after all.

“What brought you in here?” The boy asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m looking for my family,” Lance said, meeting his eyes. “My aunt used to live here. Do you know-”

The boy shook his head. “I’ve only been in this house for a few days,” he said. “Nobody was here when I arrived.”

Lance’s shoulders slumped, and he rubbed a hand over his face.

Damn it. Now what would he do?

“I’m sorry,” the boy said softly, and Lance sighed.

“I don’t know where else to look.”

The boy frowned then, peering closer at him. Then he straightened and waved for Lance to follow. “C’mere.”

Warily, keeping a hand on his bow, Lance followed. The boy led him into the kitchen and pointed at the refrigerator. Of course it didn’t work; electricity had been one of the first things to go. But Lance’s eyes widened when he saw the picture taped to it. A picture of him.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” The boy asked, eyes on Lance. He could only nod dumbly. In all his time of visiting his aunt, he’d never seen any pictures on her fridge.

His family had been here. He knew they had.

“Here,” the boy said, peeling the tape off the fridge and handing the photo to Lance. “Look on the back.”

On the back of the photo, in his mother’s unmistakable hand, was scrawled a message.

Mijo,

If you’re reading this, then we’re all alive. We’re all safe.

We’re heading for Robin Hood’s forest. Find us there.

Be safe. Please, please be safe.

We love you

Lance lowered the letter, feeling something loosen in his gut. They were alive and safe; at least, they had been when this letter was written.

What’s more, he knew where to find them. It was a long way from here, but with Blue, they could get there easily.

“Do you know where to find them?” The boy asked, raising a brow. He sounded a little wistful; it occurred to Lance that he hadn’t seen anyone else in the house.

Just how long had this guy been on his own?

“Yeah,” Lance said, folding the photograph and slipping it into his pocket. “I do.”

He moved toward the door, but the boy stopped him.

“The sun’s setting,” he said, eyes on a crack between the boards. “I think you’d better stay here until it’s safer to travel.”

Lance swore softly; it must have taken him longer than he’d thought to traverse the town. He turned back. “Is it all right if I crash here, then?”

The boy shrugged. “Just don’t steal any of my stuff. Trust me, it won’t end well for you.”

They sat in silence in the main room. The boy-Keith, his name was-had dragged the old couch against the door to keep it closed in case anything tried to get in. He’d rolled out a blanket to sleep on, tossing another to Lance, who caught it with a quiet thanks.

They sat in silence, both with their eyes trained on the doors and windows, hands on weapons.

Lance didn’t see any food anywhere; he wondered if Keith even had any. If he’d been hiding out in his house for the past three days, then probably not.

Lance reached into his backpack and withdrew a can of soup. He tossed it to Keith, who caught it in surprise.

“What about you?” Keith asked, watching Lance as he settled down onto the blanket.

“I’m okay,” Lance said, turning on his side to watch Keith. “I ate yesterday.”

Keith opened his mouth to argue, but Lance handed him the can opener with a stern look, and he sighed.

Keith ate like he was starving; of course, he probably was. Lance ate like that most days, too.

When he was finished, he handed the can opener back with a nod of thanks.

They sat in comfortable silence again, until Lance broke the silence.

“Are you…trying to find someone?” He’d been thinking about it for a while; the way Keith’s gaze had dropped when Lance had seen where to find his family, the way he had been so, so alone in this house.

He didn’t really expect Keith to answer, so he was surprised when Keith sighed.

“Yeah. I’ve been looking for…a while. Since this whole hellshow started.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…who is it?”

Keith rolled onto his side to face Lance. His katana was resting by his side, within arm’s reach. Keith tucked his arm beneath his head. “My brother.”

Lance nodded in understanding. “I hope you find him,” he said softly. “It can’t be easy, going through all this alone.”

Keith’s brows furrowed. “You’re…not on your own?”

Lance shook his head. “I’m traveling with my friends. We separated this morning, though. They’re both heading to restock on supplies, and I came here.”

“To find your family,” Keith guessed.

Lance nodded again. They lay in comfortable silence again, separated by only about four feet of wooden floor.

“What does ‘Robin Hood’s forest’ mean?” Keith asked, when Lance was just about to drift off.

Lance rolled onto his back and shrugged. “When I was a kid, my parents used to take me and my siblings out to the forest by Cluffield, about a four day drive from here. I used to pretend it was where Robin Hood’s hideout was, so we all called it Robin Hood’s forest.”

“Do you think they’re there?” Keith asked quietly.

Lance hesitated. “I don’t know what to do if they aren’t,” he said finally.

There was silence again until Lance gathered the courage to speak up once more.

He rolled onto his side again to face Keith. “So, this brother of yours. What’s he like?”

Keith chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Patient,” he said finally. “No matter what stupid sh*t I would get into, he was always patient with me. No matter what.”

Lance listened as Keith continued.

“He always used to drive me to school, back when we had school. I always thought I’d always have him. But when our parents separated two years ago…well, he went with Mom. And I stayed with Dad.”

Lance felt a pang. He wouldn’t be able to bear it, being separated from a sibling like that.

“My dad’s gone,” Keith said with a sigh, “so I’m trying to find the only family I have left.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance murmured. Everyone he had met had lost someone, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“It wasn’t from this,” Keith said, waving a hand as he stared at the ceiling. “It was before that. He was a fireman.”

Lance nodded in understanding. A small, dark part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Keith’s father was the lucky one here, dying before having to live through this mess.

“What’s your plan to find your brother?” Lance could tell Keith didn’t want to talk about his father much, and he couldn’t blame him.

“He and Mom lived in the Cluffield area,” Keith said, glancing over at Lance. “I holed up here to get some rest before heading out.”

Lance sat up then, an idea striking him. “You could come with us, you know.”

Keith frowned at him. “What?”

“You heard me earlier. We’re heading to Cluffield anyway. You can come with us to find your brother.”

Keith sat up too, leaning on his hands and staring at Lance. The other stared back, arms resting on his knees.

“You’ve got people to protect,” Keith said finally, glancing away. “I’ll just be another mouth to feed.”

“My friends will have picked up more supplies,” Lance pointed out. “We have a vehicle, too; it’ll only take us a few days to get there.”

Keith sighed, glancing back at Lance.

“You don’t have anyone to watch your back out here,” Lance murmured. “Let me help.”

Keith wrapped his arms around himself. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Okay.”

It was much less unnerving, moving through an abandoned city with someone else. Keith walked silently, eyes flicking back and forth, sword in hand as he crept along. They were keeping close to the outskirts of the city; there was less likely to be a large crowd of zombies there.

They didn’t speak; talking was a distraction, and it attracted attention. In other words, it was an excellent way to get killed. Even a chatterbox like Lance could keep quiet under those stakes.

He kept an arrow nocked as they walked through the streets; they were reaching the edge of the city, but they still had to be on their guard.

The buildings shrunk as they went, the streets growing more clustered with cars as they approached the edges of the city. Lots of people must have been trying to leave.

Lance paid even closer attention as they moved among the cars, the city now far behind. He’d had too many close calls in areas like this. He wasn’t keen on having another one.

Then there was a harsh growl as a zombie stood from where it had been lying in a truck bed. It leaped toward Keith with a hiss, and Lance snapped his bow up and released the arrow.

The zombie dropped to the ground with the arrow embedded in its forehead, right between its eyes.

Keith glanced back at Lance, eyes wide. He nodded in thanks, and continued on; neither of them risked words here.

Lance pulled the arrow from the zombie’s head, ignoring the sickening squelch as he did so. The arrowhead had broken off, and Lance tossed the shaft aside with a frustrated sigh. At this rate, he might very well run out of arrows.

The sun was beating down on them by the time they crested the hill to reach the rendezvous point.

Lance’s heart dropped when he saw the empty valley.

They weren’t there yet.

Keith nudged his shoulder. “Scavenging takes time,” he reminded Lance softly. “They’ll be here.”

Lance forced a smile. “I know they will. In the meantime, let’s set up somewhere safe.” He paused. “Well, safer.”

Keith huffed out a soft laugh at that; at this point, dark humor was the only kind of humor anybody had left.

They set up on top of a large chunk of concrete, where an overpass had long since collapsed. It was the highest vantage point they had in the area, and Hunk and Pidge would be able to see them easily enough from the road.

It was a small area, small enough that Lance and Keith sat so close their shoulders were touching.

“I can take the first watch,” Keith offered as they rolled out blankets.

Lance nodded, sitting down on his blanket. The setting sun cast long shadows across the open plain, making the tall grass move in patterns that caught Lance’s eye and made his heart rate spike.

They stayed awake as the sky darkened; in the distance, Lance could see the tiny figures of zoms milling about on the road, by the pileup of cars. They stayed completely silent as they sat; there was no way to tell if any zombies were closer, and if there happened to be any, the slightest sound would attract them.

When the sun had set completely and the chill of night had settled over them, Lance curled onto his side. The most dangerous time of night had passed.

So with Keith’s leg resting against his back, Lance fell asleep.

Lance’s watch was uneventful, save for the distant gleeful shrieks of zombies as they swarmed some poor soul.

That wasn’t Hunk and Pidge, Lance told himself. They would be here soon, and everything would be fine.

When the sun rose high enough to warm Lance’s skin, he sighed, leaning back on his hands. He considered waking Keith up, but Hunk and Pidge weren’t here yet, so there wasn’t much need.

So he let Keith rest.

Time passed, and Lance was beginning to feel the first stirrings of panic. It was past noon, and Pidge and Hunk were nearly a day late.

Next to him, Keith shifted, coming awake quickly. He sat up, rubbing his face.

“What time is it?” he mumbled.

“A few hours past noon,” Lance said.

Keith huffed. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Lance shrugged. “Didn’t see the need. They’re not here yet; thought I might as well let you get more rest.”

Keith sighed and settled next to Lance, resting a hand on the hilt of his blade. “What time were you guys supposed to meet?”

Lance swallowed. “Yesterday.”

Keith nodded, turning back to help Lance keep watch. They didn’t speak as the day passed on, only sitting there in silence.

What do we do if they don’t come?

What will I do if they’re gone?

The sun was drifting toward the distant mountains when Keith grabbed Lance’s arm.

“Is that them?” He pointed toward the road.

In the distance, a small speck of blue was slowly growing larger as it approached.

Lance leapt to his feet. “They made it!” he gasped, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. “Holy sh*t, they made it!” He waved one arm, only barely managing to keep from shouting out.

Before long, Blue pulled up beside them, and Lance and Keith clambered off the concrete, hiking through the grass toward the van.

The window rolled down to reveal Pidge’s grinning face. “‘Sup, loser.”

Lance couldn’t conceal his own grin. “You’re late.”

“Sorry about that!” Hunk piped up from his spot in the passenger seat. “We had to wait for a crowd of zoms to move past the road.”

“Who’s this?” Pidge asked, peering around Lance at Keith.

“Guys, this is Keith. Keith, this is Pidge and Hunk.” Lance motioned toward each person.

Pidge glanced at Lance, a hidden question in her eyes. Lance nodded once; yes, they could trust him.

Pidge nodded back, jerking her head toward the back door. “Hop in.”

The next few days were some of the best Lance had since everything went to sh*t a year ago. Sure, Pidge and Hunk were fun; they were practically family at this point. But Keith was witty, and quietly kind, and ridiculously attractive. The sword certainly didn’t help matters, especially after Keith took out two zombies that had strayed a little too close during his night shift with two quick, smooth strikes.

He was worried about his brother, though; the same way Lance was worried about his family. They sat sometimes in silence, during the long watches of the night, just enjoying the other’s presence.

It was on the third day of travel as Lance sat behind the wheel and Keith in the passenger seat. Pidge and Hunk were asleep in the back, leaving just the two of them awake.

Keith was resting his head against the window, eyes ahead as Blue rumbled over the asphalt.

“What do I do if he’s not there?” Keith asked out of nowhere. His gaze stayed glued to the road, but his voice was tight.

Lance hesitated. If his family was there, but Keith’s brother wasn’t, what would they do? Keith could always go search elsewhere, but Lance didn’t want him to do that on his own. Of course, Lance didn’t want to leave his family, not after he found them, but…Keith was family now, too.

And in a world like this one, family stuck together. It was safer that way.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess…we could look for him.”

Keith looked at Lance then, violet eyes pensive. “‘We?’”

Lance shrugged, keeping his gaze on the road. “It’s dangerous out here,” he said softly. “You’ll need someone to watch your back.” He glanced at Keith then, blue gaze flicking from Keith’s face to the road and back. “I’d like to be that someone,” he finished.

Keith didn’t answer for a long time; when he finally did, his voice was rough.

“I’d like that.”

Hunk was driving when it happened. Pidge sat up in her chair, pointing out the windshield with a wordless cry of excitement.

Keith sat bolt upright from where he had been dozing on the mattress, and Lance’s gaze snapped up.

Ahead was the forest, split by a single solitary road. They’d made it.

Hunk exhaled. “I’m taking us in,” he said. “Keep a sharp eye out.”

They all crowded to the windows to scan the trees for any danger. There was none that Lance could see, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

He was so focused on scouring the trees for any signs of zombies that he almost didn’t notice when Hunk pulled to a stop. Keith bumped against him as the van halted, and Lance righted him.

Ahead of them on the road stood a cluster of people, weapons in hand.

Pidge swore under her breath.

“Leave the vehicle one at a time,” the woman in front called. “Keep your hands up.”

Lance and his friends all looked at each other.

“I think we’d better do what she says,” Keith said quietly. “We’re outnumbered here.”

Lance swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll go first.”

They trooped behind him to the back doors; Keith’s fingers curled around Lance’s wrist, squeezing once before letting go.

Lance stepped from the van with his hands raised high, scanning the group of people in front of him. The woman who had spoken was tall, with short silver hair that reached her chin. It was choppy and uneven, like she’d hacked it off with a knife. Considering everything, she probably had.

Next to her stood a man with an orange mustache; he was aiming a rifle at Lance, his face set into a wary glower. And next to him…

A soft gasp escaped from Lance, and the woman standing behind Mustache gasped too, lowering her weapon.

“Lance?” Veronica asked, eyes wide. “Is that you?”

Lance smiled, feeling the press of tears. He didn’t know if he would ever hear his sister’s voice again. “Hey, Ronnie.”

“Lower your weapons!” Veronica cried, turning toward the silver-haired woman. “That’s my brother!”

The woman nodded, lowering her gun and stepping forward, offering a hand. “Lance, I presume?”

Lance nodded.

“I apologize for that,” the woman said. “There are many dangerous people about, and we can’t be too careful. I am Allura.”

They shook hands; Allura’s grip was callused and firm.

“Can my friends come out?” Lance asked, jerking his head toward the van.

“Of course,” Allura said, stepping back. “Anyone seeking refuge is welcome here. We will escort your vehicle to the main camp.”

Camp? Of course, they must be living somewhere.

Lance turned back toward the van; Keith was there to help him inside.

“Lance, what’s happening? What did they say to you?”

“I found my sister,” Lance breathed, hardly able to believe it himself. “They’re taking us to their camp.”

Hunk drove forward slowly as Allura, Veronica, and the others led them on foot. A tall gate stretched over the road, and Allura waved it open.

Hunk drove through, and they all gasped as the camp opened up on all sides.

It was a mishmash of cabins and tents, with people bustling around fetching water and sharpening weapons. A few children ran around, helping their parents and giggling at each other.

All in all, there were about fifty people that Lance could see. Fifty more people than he was used to seeing.

They parked the van and disembarked; Allura ordered her men to help them unload their supplies.

Veronica wrapped Lance in a tight hug.

“I knew you’d make it,” she whispered in his ear.

Lance hugged her back, breathing in her scent and burying his face in her shoulder. Then a cry of his name made his head snap up.

His mother and other siblings stood there, faces smeared with dirt, but breathing and smiling and alive.

Lance didn’t even remember running to them, but the next thing he knew he was engulfed in his mother’s arms, with his siblings piling on all around.

“You got our message,” Mama murmured in his ear.

Lance nodded, too overcome to speak. Mama pulled back and cupped his face. Her hands were warm, just as he remembered, but they were rougher than they used to be, weathered by a year of survival and hardship.

“You made it,” she whispered, eyes filling with tears.

Lance turned back, motioning to his friends. When he spoke his voice was rough with tears. “I wouldn’t have been able to without them.”

Then a joyful shout broke Lance from his quiet bubble. He watched as Keith sprinted forward, dropping his backpack and his sword. And he watched as Keith leapt into someone’s arms, wrapping his legs around the man’s waist and flinging his arms around his neck.

The man was perhaps a few years older, with a solid build and a missing arm, but he held Keith up and hugged him back just as fiercely as he would with both arms. Keith was crying now, sobbing into his brother’s shoulder as he hugged him tight, like he’d never ever let go.

As Lance watched, Keith pulled away and glanced back. He broke into a wide grin when he saw Lance; his cheeks were streaked with tears, but he was smiling all the wider for it.

And, Lance thought, maybe everything was going to be okay.

Chapter 15: like a final puzzle piece (it all makes perfect sense to me)

Chapter Text

Lance sighed and lowered the pencil. Beside him on the couch, Keith glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

"You all right?"

"Yeah," Lance huffed, pushing the notebook away and rubbing a tired hand down his face. "I just can't think of lyrics right now. My brain's completely dead."

Keith hummed and went back to his own project; he was organizing the instrumental sections. "Since you're alive and talking to me, I doubt that's true."

Lance groaned and tipped sideways, resting his head in Keith's lap. "I can't focus," he complained. "My brain is oozing out my ears."

Keith huffed out a laugh and brushed Lance's fringe away from his eyes. His fingers were warm. "Then take a break. You've been working for what, four hours? I think you need a nap."

Lance sighed. "There's so much that I need to do, though," he grumbled. "I need to finish the lyrics, and call the stage manager, and-"

"Lance," Keith said, running his fingers through the other's hair. "You need to rest. You haven't been sleeping much lately."

"You know I get nervous leading up to a big performance," Lance said, closing his eyes and leaning into Keith's touch. "It's hard for me to sleep at night."

"Then sleep now. We've got a few days before the lyrics need to be written, and I can call the manager if you want."

Lance wanted to argue, but he was comfortable, and Keith was warm; his fingers carding through Lance's hair had lulled him into a trance. "M'kay," he mumbled finally, settling down to sleep.

Keith chuckled softly and reached behind him for a blanket. He pulled it over Lance's form and returned his hand to Lance's hair.

Lance was asleep in moments, snoring softly on his lap. Keith gently rested his notebook on top of Lance's shoulder to continue working, but after another thirty minutes or so he yawned and set his work aside. A nap actually sounded nice.

He shifted, careful not to wake his boyfriend. Lance mumbled in his sleep as Keith gently maneuvered so he was lying down, with his boyfriend curled up on his chest. Lance shifted above him, nuzzling into his collarbone and settling with a soft sigh. And with Lance's warm, comforting weight pressing down on him, Keith's heavy eyelids were dragged closed, and he, too, fell asleep.

Chapter 16: something strange in the neighborhood

Chapter Text

Lance exhaled, shaking out his arms. Keith nudged his arm.

"Scared, McClain?"

Lance smirked at him. "Not at all. Let's go catch ourselves a ghost."

Keith smirked back, and together they flicked on their flashlights and stepped into the forest. Almost immediately a chill settled over Lance's skin, sending tingles down his spine. It was a lot darker than he thought; the narrow beams from their flashlights only barely penetrated the suffocating darkness. Lance was beginning to regret going, but he'd be damned if he was backing down in front of Keith.

The other boy seemed to share the same sentiment; they glanced at each other and kept walking. Leaves crunched beneath their sneakers, and the wind made the bare branches rustle and creak against each other.

Lance exhaled shakily, wondering in the back of his mind why he agreed to this.

"He's so annoying!" Keith complained, flopping onto the couch.

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "Lance again?"

"Yes!" Keith sighed. "He won't leave me alone about that stupid rivalry!"

Shiro and Matt exchanged an amused glance. It was obvious to anyone with eyes except the two involved parties that whatever the hell they had going on wasnot a rivalry.

"What'd he do this time?" Matt asked.

"He keeps trying to prove that he's better than me!" Keith protested. "He's always trying to one-up me!"

A slow, sly smile spread across Matt's face. "I think I have a solution to that."

Matt explained his idea, and Keith perked up. "Yeah, ghost hunting sounds good! Whoever chickens out loses the rivalry."

"Exactly!" Matt said, clapping Keith on the back. "All you gotta do isnot chicken out!"

"All right," Keith said, a determined glint in his eye. "I'll go ask him."

He ran out the door, and Matt glanced at Shiro; that sly smile was back.

"I," Matt declared, "have an excellent idea."

They had been walking for what seemed like hours; the moon was completely obscured by clouds and the thick branches above, leaving only the light of their flashlights to navigate by.

It was even colder now; Lance was very glad he'd worn his jacket. Even so, he was shivering a little as they walked.

But he wasn't going to back down. Not now. Not when his only chance of proving himself to Keith was here.

The other boy was relatively quiet, walking along beside Lance, violet eyes darting around the trees. He was shivering a little, too; his jacket only reached his midriff, after all. It couldn't have been keeping him very warm, even if the look was kinda hot.

An owl hooted somewhere nearby, its call echoing eerily through the bare trees. Lance swallowed uneasily, eyeing the deep shadows on either side of them.

Suddenly, something grabbed his arm, and Lance pulled away, only barely keeping from shrieking. But it was just Keith.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered, glancing at Lance.

"You're just trying to make me paranoid," Lance scoffed, turning away. "Nice try."

"No, seriously! I hear something!"

"Uh huh." Lance kept walking, and from behind him he heard a frustrated groan as Keith jogged to catch up, his light bouncing with every step.

The only sounds Lance could hear was his own breathing, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and the distant animal calls.

Then he froze. A soft hissing could be heard, just barely discernable.

"I hear something," he hissed to Keith, who rolled his eyes.

"I told you, didn't I?"

"Well I don't trust someone who would willingly have a mullet," Lance retorted.

"It's not a mullet," Keith mumbled, scuffing the ground with his shoe.

"Could've fooled me," Lance grumbled. He perked his ears, trying to find the source of the hissing. But the sound of Keith's shoe scuffing the ground drowned out any other noise.

"Would youstop that?" Lance hissed, whipping his head around.

Keith blinked. "Stop what? I wasn't doing anything!"

The scuffing came again, and Lance rolled his eyes."That! Now you're doing it right in front of me!"

Keith shook his head, eyes widening. "No, I'm not."

Lance glanced at his feet and froze; Keith's feet were holding perfectly still, but the scuffing sounds persisted. Moving as one, the boys edged closer to each other, shining their lights out into the trees.

Keith inhaled sharply, and Lance whipped his light around; clouds of mist were drifting toward them, dancing lazily on the breeze, accompanied by that hissing sound from earlier.

"It's just fog," Keith murmured, voice trembling.

The scuffing sound came again, from somewhere behind Lance, and he jumped, grabbing Keith's hand.

"Just a rabbit or something," he mumbled, awkwardly letting go. "Just startled me."

Keith peered closer at the approaching mist; if he squinted, he could see a blurry figure standing in the fog, moving toward them. Even as he watched, the figure flinched, moving jerkily as it moved toward him.

Keith gasped and scrambled back, waving behind him to find Lance, but he tripped over a root and went sprawling.

At the same time, something large and heavy thudded to the ground right behind Lance. He shrieked, scrambling away; the figure in the mist moved forward again, head moving jerkily, neck bending to an unnatural angle. A long, low moan echoed through the trees, creaky and ancient andevil.

Another thud came, from right next to Keith, and he screamed, scrambling to his feet.

"Let's go!" Lance shrieked, gripping Keith's hand. Keith didn't argue; they tore out of the woods like they were being chased like the devil himself, screaming all the while.

Silence fell; the fog slowly dissipated, and the silhouette collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Which wasn't too far off the mark; it was the old skeleton model from the Holt's basem*nt.

Matt burst out into laughter, doubling over andwheezing as he remembered the looks on their faces. From his perch up in the tree, Shiro flopped back against the trunk, cackling with an arm thrown over his eyes.

"I can't," Shiro gasped, wiping away tears. "Did you see thelook on his face?"

"I will never forget that," Matt wheezed.

Shiro slid down from the tree, landing with a soft thud; not unlike the large rocks he'd dropped from the tree only a few minutes earlier. Matt gathered up the old plastic skeleton and the sticks he'd used to move it, and Shiro retrieved the batter-powered fog machine that Matt's little sister had built.

"Come on, let's get back before they do," Shiro said, leading the way down the path.

And they laughed all the way home.

Chapter 17: AUTHOR'S NOTE

Chapter Text

Hey, all!!!

You may have noticed the dropped aus for this month (indicated in the work summary). I was originally not going to do these at all, but I decided it might be fun if I added some other aus at the end to make up for the ones I dropped.

To sum up, days 14 and 18, the ones I have dropped so far, will be author's choice aus posted at the end of this month!

That said, I now have 4 author's choice aus, and still very little idea of what I want to do for them. I would like to start planning them now, because I want these ones to be good, so I would really appreciate it if you could take this survey to tell me which aus you would like to see! If you have any suggestions for an au that I have not indicated, please DM me or send me an ask here to give me a idea of what you'd like! This is not a final decision yet, as I am just wanting to see what you guys would want to read!!!

Thank you all for supporting me and my writing. It means the world to me <3<3

Chapter 18: if the sky comes falling down, I'll fight and fight for you

Chapter Text

It was strange, really, the forces that brought people together. The games that fate played.

How a certain person was in the training program to become a soldier, but was kicked out. How he was brought into the home of a king to carry out a duty far more important than that of an ordinary soldier.

How a boy lived all his life sheltered and alone, and came to find friendship…and perhaps even something more.

When Keith first saw the boy who would become his bodyguard, he’d tried to convince Shiro that he didn’t need one. He hated the idea of someone risking their life for him, having their life be expendable compared to his, and he especially hated the idea of that person being someone his age.

Shiro had explained that a bodyguard was essential; and that Shiro had wanted someone Keith could be friends with.

And so it began.

Lance was never still, never quiet. He chatted with the other members of the royal guard, and flirted with the servants when he was old enough to want to. He laughed, and cracked jokes, and pulled weird faces, and was otherwise a “nuisance,” as Keith’s crusty old tutor called him.

Keith didn’t mind so much. Life in a castle was boring when he wasn’t the king, and Lance made it much more interesting.

Keith wasn’t sure how to act around Lance. Every time he spoke, or told one of his stupid jokes, everything in Keith wanted to sit up and listen with all his being. Every time Lance brushed up against him, tingles of electricity ran over Keith’s skin, electrifying his nerves, attuned to every small touch. When he saw Lance in the training room, shirtless, sweaty, sparring against another guard with his broadsword in hand, Keith couldn’t tear his gaze away. And when they were sparring, and Lance would pin him up against the wall, lift his chin with the tip of his sword…Keith felt like he was on fire.

The truth was, he was pretty sure he liked Lance more than a normal amount. More than just friends. And sometimes, when Lance would smile at him, or when his face would soften in quiet moments, with just the two of them…Keith wondered if Lance felt the same way.

But it didn’t matter, because at the end of the day, Lance was a bodyguard and Keith was a prince. It couldn’t happen. No matter how much Keith wished it could.

But it was on this night where they would come to realize just how much they cared about each other. And what they might do if the other was lost.

Keith exhaled, wishing for the umpteenth time he could at least slouch a bit. He’d been standing at the daias for what had to be hours, his shoulders back, knees slightly bent, head held high. He wanted to sit down, or at least relax his tense posture. But noooooo, he had to stay standing up straight because if he hunched his shoulders even the slightest bit, some dignitary would be horrendously offended and start a war.

“I hate politics,” he muttered through the wide, fake smile that was plastered on his face.

Next to him, Lance huffed out a laugh. “You and me both,” he murmured out the side of his mouth.

Over the years of parties and ceremonies and diplomatic meetings, the two had perfected the art of communicating without it being obvious that they were speaking. It was considered rude to speak to a servant in the presence of nobles, but Keith didn’t really care for that rule.

“Aw man, Hunk was the cook for tonight,” Lance sighed, gaze straight ahead. “What I would give to be the royal taste-tester.”

Keith only barely withheld a snort. “Believe me, if I could be the royal taste-tester, I would.”

Lance scoffed. “You don’t count; you’re royalty. You can’t be royal twice.”

Keith couldn’t hold back his soft laugh; thankfully, the swelling of the music easily drowned it out. Only Lance heard, and a subtle smirk spread across his face. He liked being the one who made Keith laugh.

They had to endure another hour of standing before finally, finally, Shiro excused them with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” he murmured in Keith’s ear. “It took a lot longer than I wanted it to.”

Keith nodded and stepped out into the empty courtyard, Lance shadowing his steps as always. The moment they were gone, Keith slumped against a column, sliding to the ground with a sigh of relief.

Lance knelt next to him, adjusting his belt and leaning against the column.

“Man, I don’t know how you do that all day,” Keith huffed, glanced over at Lance. “My feet are going to fall off.”

Lance shrugged. “Eh, I got used to it. I think all the nerves in my feet died, so it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Keith chuckled. “I feel like I’m well on my way to that. Ugh, and my cheeks hurt, too.” He sighed, trying to rub feeling back into his feet. “I am never smiling again.”

Lance hummed. “Pity. Your smile’s gorgeous.”

Keith froze, staring at Lance; the bodyguard’s ears were turning red beneath the silver moonlight; he cleared his throat.

“So, Hunk’s cooking, huh?”

Keith sighed, shaking his head fondly. “Lance, neither of us have tried it yet.”

“Well, it’s Hunk. There’s no way it isn’t absolutely perfect!”

He had a point there. One that Keith couldn't argue.

They sat in comfortable silence, just soaking in each other’s presence, enjoying the fact that they didn’t need to talk to hang out together. After an entire evening of smiling and talking to every single noble in Marmora, it was pleasant, just sitting in silence.

Then a soft rumble echoed through the palace. Lance sat up straighter, his muscles tensing. A hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

Keith immediately sat up, too, listening for any sound.

A beat passed. Two.

Then there was the sound of stone cracking, and wood splintering, and then Lance was moving. Almost before Keith could process, Lance tackled him, and they tumbled across the ground.

The sound of the roof coming down around them was deafening; Keith might have cried out, or Lance, but it was drowned out by the thunderous rumble.

Keith must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew, he was blinking his eyes open to see dim light, and huge pieces of rubble leaning over him. He was right up against the wall, so there was an open triangle of space where he was relatively safe from being crushed, but something was on his chest, weighing him down.

He was laying on his back, he was pretty sure, and he ached all over. Nothing felt broken, but he definitely had some scrapes and bruises.

Except…something warm and wet was dripping down his tunic. He wasn’t hurt there, so what…

Lance.

He’d shoved Keith out of the way. Where was he?

“Lance,” Keith croaked, looking around. The only light he had was filtering in through a tiny hole by his face; but it was enough to realize that Lance was above him.

Even in the dark, Keith could see how pale he was. His eyes were closed, his face slack; his hands were on either side of Keith’s shoulders, caging him in; Keith could see rubble piled onto Lance’s legs and lying across his shoulders.

He’d probably saved Keith’s life.

“Lance,” Keith rasped again. “Wake up.” The dripping onto his stomach was steadily increasing, and Keith’s heart rate was picking up as he realized what it must be.

Just when he was about to search for a pulse, Lance moaned, eyelids fluttering. Dazed blue eyes peeled open, and Keith nearly sobbed with relief.

“God, Lance, are you okay?”

Lance moaned again and nodded. “‘M fine…side hurts,” he mumbled. “You?”

Keith nodded. “I’m okay.”

Lance’s breathing was shallow and tremulous. Keith’s entire stomach was wet now; he had to see what that was. He had to see how badly Lance was hurt.

“Okay, I’m going to move a bit,” Keith said, “just so I can see where you’re hurt. Okay?”

Lance nodded, and Keith shifted, gently pushing Lance up so he could wriggle around. The moment he pushed up on Lance, the other screamed.

Keith stopped moving immediately, dropping back to the ground. Lance shuddered above him, tears dripping onto Keith’s cheeks. The dripping on Keith’s stomach was a little faster now.

Oh god.

Keith peered into the darkness, trying to see. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t. One of the sections of stone roof above them was attached to a thick wooden beam. Which had been impaled into Lance’s back, on his left side just below the ribs. The splintered, bloodied end was protruding from Lance’s stomach, accompanied by the blood dripping down onto Keith.

Oh god.

“Is it bad?” Lance whispered, voice shaking; he was even paler now, from blood loss, Keith realized.

Keith nodded once. “I-It’s okay, we’ll figure this out. Just…stay with me, okay? I’m gonna get us out of here, but you need to stay awake for me.”

Lance nodded, sweat beading on his brow. “‘Kay.”

The bodyguard was shaking, his eyelids fluttering. He was losing too much blood; they didn’t have much time.

“SHIRO!” Keith yelled, trying to aim his face for the small hole. “ADAM! SOMEBODY!”

He yelled for help until his voice was raw, but nobody came.

Lance’s head lowered to rest on Keith’s shoulder, his eyes slipping closed, and Keith yelled his name.

“No, stay awake! Please, Lance, you have to open your eyes! Just do it for me, okay?”

Lance moaned softly, his eyes cracking open. They were glassy and unfocused. “Anythin’ for you,” he slurred, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“That’s it,” Keith encouraged, feeling the panic swirl in his gut. He couldn’t lose him. “Just keep talking to me.”

Where was Shiro? Or anybody, really? They must’ve heard the roof collapsing…unless the entire palace collapsed. Was Shiro trapped beneath rubble like them?

Then Keith heard a faint voice, calling his name.

“Keith!” Shiro yelled again, voice laced with panic. “Where are you?”

“WE’RE HERE!” Keith yelled again, and Lance lifted his head off his shoulder, hissing in pain at the sudden movement.

“This way!” Adam’s distant shout was accompanied by the pounding of footsteps, steadily growing louder.

Keith exhaled shakily. “Just a little longer, Lance, they’ve almost found us. Hang on a little longer.”

“Keith!” Shiro sounded like he was on the other side of the rubble pile. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Keith called, “but Lance is hurt!”

“How badly?”

Keith’s breath hitched as he saw Lance’s pale skin, fluttering eyelids, and felt Lance’s blood steadily dripping onto his stomach.

“I-It’s bad,” he choked out, shakily inhaling. “It’s really bad.”

“Okay, just stay calm. You hear me? We’re getting you guys out!”

Shiro began to order people around; apparently there was quite the crowd outside. Keith focused himself on Lance.

His eyes were half-closed and foggy, and Keith swallowed down his panic.

“We’re gonna be okay, yeah? They’re getting us out. Just stay with me. Stay with me, okay?”

Lance’s lips moved, but his voice was too quiet for Keith to hear. He leaned forward to try and hear what Lance was trying to say.

“‘M sorry,” he whispered, his voice shaky and weak. “Didn’t want it to end like this.”

“Lance, what are you saying? You’re going to be fine, we’re gonna get out of this!”

Lance shook his head, tears slipping from his eyes. They dripped onto Keith’s cheeks, carving clean trails in the dust.

“You will,” he murmured. “‘M glad.”

“No, you will, too!” Keith cried, feeling the press of tears of his own. “Stop talking like that!”

“‘M glad you’re okay,” Lance slurred, head lowering to Keith’s shoulder again. “I love you, y’know. Always wanted t’ say it…” His words were slurring together, his voice growing softer and softer as he grew weaker and weaker.

Keith’s shoulders shook as a sob was torn from him. “Stop it! You’re going to survive this! You’re going to be okay!”

Lance’s eyes slipped closed with a soft hum, and the tension slowly drained from his body.

“NO!” Keith screamed, tapping Lance’s face, slapping him, doing anything he could think of. “Lance, please!”

There’s still so much I have to tell you.

So much.

Then light flooded Keith’s eyes as the entire side of rubble was cleared away. Adam took hold of Lance’s limp body as a cluster of guards heaved to lift the chunk of stone with the wooden beam off.

A hoarse cry was yanked from Lance’s lips, his face contorting in pain even in unconsciousness as the beam was pulled from his body with a sickening squelch.

Immediately, blood gushed from the gaping wound, soaking Keith’s tunic even more. Adam tore off his own, balling it up and pressing it against Lance’s stomach.

“I’m getting him to the infirmary!” Adam cried, standing with Lance’s limp, broken body in his arms. Without waiting for an answer, he took off down the hall, leaving bloody footprints in his wake.

Shiro dropped beside Keith, smoothing the hair from the prince’s face. Shiro’s face was covered in dust, his gray eyes frantic as he spotted the blood soaking into Keith’s tunic.

“Keith! You’re hurt!” Shiro began to tear off his tunic, but Keith stopped him, sitting up.

“It’s not mine,” Keith whispered, gripping Shiro’s wrist like a lifeline. “It’s not mine.”

Shiro’s eyes widened in understanding, and he sighed. “We’re going to do everything we can for him.” He rose to his feet, gently pulling Keith up. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Keith sat outside while the doctors worked. They’d been in there with Lance for hours now, and there was no way to know if he would survive.

Shiro was trying to get the palace back in order, organizing searches for survivors in any other rooms that may have been collapsed in the earthquake.

Adam was waiting with Keith, pacing back and forth as they worked. He’d known Lance as long as Keith had; the two were almost brothers.

And Keith sat against the wall, head resting on his knees. He was just exhausted. He could feel it, deep in his bones. Shiro had tried to get him to sleep, but Keith refused.

I love you, Lance had said.

Keith felt sick. Those were the words that made him lie awake at night, wondering, wishing, hoping that Lance would say. And finally, he had…except Lance might very well die before the night was over.

He would never forget the way Lance’s eyes had dimmed, the way his eyelids fluttered shut. The warm, steady drip of Lance’s blood as his life leaked from his body.

Keith shook his head, trying to dispel the memories. Lance would be okay. He would wake up, and Keith could tell him what he wanted to say, and everything would be all right.

Because Keith didn’t know what he would do if it wasn’t.

Finally, he shifted, laying down on his side. Sleep pulled his heavy eyelids down, and Keith was dead to the world.

Lance was at his usual perch on Keith’s windowsill, face tilted toward the sun, eyes closed. It was a peaceful, pleasant day; Keith was sitting at his desk, going over papers, the only sounds between them being the scratch of Keith’s pen against the paper and the comforting crackle of flames in the hearth. The wind from the open window brushed Lance's face, leaving soft kisses across his cheekbones and brow.

There was a gentle scrape as Keith’s chair was pushed back, and a warmth settling by Lance’s side as the prince curled up on the windowsill beside him.

“Wake up,” Keith whispered, his breath brushing over Lance’s skin.

“I am awake,” Lance murmured, eyes still closed.

Keith’s lips pressed to Lance’s temples, moving against his skin as he whispered again.

“Wake up.”

His senses returned to him slowly.

The scratchy blanket pulled over him, the soft mattress on which he rested.

The bandages wrapped tight around his midsection, the heavy cast on his leg.

The sound of people talking, too soft and far away for him to hear.

The warm hand, closed around his.

Lance opened his eyes, wincing at the sudden light. He tightened his grip on whoever was holding his hand, and Keith straightened from where he sat on Lance’s bed beside him.

“Lance! You’re awake!” His smile was blinding as he squeezed Lance’s hand back.

“Hey,” Lance croaked, his lips turning up at the corners.

Keith looked like he was blinking away tears; he reached to the side and held up a glass of water.

“Here.” He helped Lance sit up, helped him drink. The cool water rushed down Lance’s throat, and he greedily gulped it down.

When he was finished, Keith set the glass aside. He exhaled shakily and gently, so, so gently pulled Lance into a hug, burying his face into Lance’s shoulder.

Lance hugged him back, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist and resting his head against Keith’s.

“I missed you,” Keith whispered, his voice breaking. “I-I didn’t know if you were gonna make it, or what would happen-”

“Hey.” Lance pulled back to gently cup Keith’s face, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs. “I’m okay now. I’m right here. And I’m not leaving, all right?”

Keith nodded, leaning into Lance’s touch. “I love you, too,” he murmured.

Lance’s lips parted, and he looked at Keith in bewilderment. “I…told you that, didn’t I? Before I passed out?”

Keith nodded. “You did,” he murmured. “And I love you, too.”

Warmth bloomed in Lance’s chest, and he cupped Keith’s cheeks as he leaned forward.

Keith met him in the middle, wrapping his arms around the small of Lance’s back, gently pulling him closer as their lips met.

It was soft and gentle, Keith being mindful of Lance’s still-healing injuries. His lips were warm, his hands warmer as they rose to cradle Lance’s cheeks.

They broke apart, and Lance leaned his forehead against Keith’s. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he murmured, absently stroking Keith’s cheekbones.

Keith hummed, a small, content smile spreading across his face. “Me, too.”

Chapter 19: for you my dear, i would catch the stars in my hands

Chapter Text

Lance couldn't help but sneak peeks at the customer sitting by the window. He had his elbows propped up on the table, idly watching traffic go by outside. His inky black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, the red frames of his glasses glinting in the morning sunlight.

Romelle nudged Lance's arm. "Are you ever going to ask him out? Or are you just going to keep staring longingly across the cafe?"

"I flirt with him," Lance grumbled, stacking cups out onto the counter.

"And he's into you," Romelle said, tilting her head. Her blonde braids were so long they reached her waist, and they gently smacked into Lance's ribs as she whirled around. "Seriously, Lance, it'spainfully obvious. Just ask him!"

She pranced off into the backroom, and Lance sighed. Easy for her to say; she and Allura had been dating for a long time. Romelle didn't have to worry about asking attractive people out on dates.

"Stop your moping," Pidge griped from where they sat at the counter, nursing a mug. They'd been friends with Lance and his coworkers for ages, even if they didn't work there. "It's too much to handle this early."

"Not you, too," Lance sighed.

Pidge rolled their eyes. "Literallyeveryone can see it," they complained. "Just ask the guy out before I take matters into my own hands!"

"That's not necessary!" Lance yelped, making several customers look up.Including the boy sitting by the window. Lance ducked behind the counter, and Pidge snorted.

"You aresuch a disaster."

"Shut up," Lance whined, swatting at them from where he crouched on the floor. "I'll ask him out! You don't need to!"

Pidge wiggled their eyebrows. "You're just afraid I'll do something to embarrass you."

"Yes! I am, because you would!" Lance protested.

Pidge chuckled, tipping the mug back to finish off the last of their coffee. "Yes, I would. So you'd better, because I cannot suffer through any more pining."

Lance sighed."Fine." He stood, brushing off his uniform. "Hey, has Allura finished making his coffee yet?"

Pidge shrugged. "Hell if I know."

Lance ducked into the backroom just as Allura came out. She grinned at Lance, quirking her brows. "This is for your crush. You wanna deliver it to him?"

"'Lura, you read my mind," Lance said, accepting the tray from her. "You got a pen?"

Allura offered it up, and Lance thanked her.

"Good luck!" Allura called after him.

I'll need it.

Keith was staring intently out the window just so he wouldn't have to look at Lance. It was distracting; he seemed to attract the attention of everyone in the room when he smiled, when he spoke. Keith knew that if he wasn't looking out the window, he'd be staring. And staring was creepy and weird, and the last thing he wanted to do was be creepy and weird.

But every time Lance beamed at him when he made his order, or asked him how is day was, Keith couldn't stop the redness from rising to his cheeks.

He just works here. It's his job to be nice to the customers.

Keith's thoughts were interrupted by someone stopping by his table. That someone was no less than the very person Keith was trying not to think about.

"Here's your order!" Lance chirped, holding out the tray. He looked nervous, not meeting Keith's eyes as the other boy accepted his drink.

Keith wrapped his hands around it, enjoying the warmth; Lance grinned blindingly and walked away, looking like he was ready to break into dance.

Keith sighed and went to drink, but he stopped when he saw the writing scrawled across the lid.

If I had a star for every time you brightened my day, I would be holding a galaxy in my hands

Keith's fingers tightened around the cup, cheeks flaring with heat. Beneath the pick-up line was a phone number and a smiley face.

He could feel Lance's eyes on him as he read the words again, but Keith refused to look up. He drained his cup so fast he burned his tongue, and stood to leave. He grabbed a napkin and scribbled down a quick note, then headed for the door. As he passed the counter, he slid the napkin in front of Lance without looking at him.

Lance stared at the napkin like it might bite him; he'd seen Keith write on it, but he didn't know what he wrote. He was afraid to find out.

"Oh, for f*ck's sake," Pidge griped, shoving the napkin into his hands. "Justreadit, goddamn it!"

Lance unfolded the napkin, a smile spreading across his face as he read.

There aren't any stars out tonight, but you're shining like one

Romelle, who was reading over his shoulder, let out a loud squeal as she saw the phone number scrawled beneath. She vigorously shook Lance's shoulders.

"I'm soproud of you!" She hollered, leaping up and down in excitement. Lance, unable to contain his happiness, engulfed her in a hug. They jumped up and down, squealing like little kids.

Keith, smiling at the sight, stepped out the door and pulled out his phone.

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

Glowing violet eyes, bared teeth that looked more like fangs. The twisted, hate-filled expression, the force with which Shiro wielded his sword.

Keith lost himself to the battle, swinging and rolling and blocking.

He couldn’t bring himself to strike.

Even after all the horrible things Shiro had said, had done, Keith couldn’t bring himself to hurt him.

Even when Shiro didn’t seem to be holding back at all.

Keith landed hard on the metal ground, his already battered body screaming at the impact. He ached all over; broken bones, probably, along with his broken heart.

He glanced up, saw his knife embedded in the metal a few feet away. Mustering all his strength, Keith struggled to his hands and knees, limbs shaking with exertion and exhaustion. His head spun, his vision blurring in and out.

Concussion, his mind supplied helpfully, but Keith shoved it aside. He had to get out of here alive; then he could worry about how badly he was injured.

Keith’s vision swam, and he crumpled to the ground with a groan. Waves of pain flared up through his body, from so many places he couldn’t possibly identify an individual source.

There was the heavy thud of boots, and Shiro stood over him, gazing down with an unreadable expression. The tip of his sword grazed the metal floor, melting through with a soft hiss.

Then the glowing violet sword swung up in an arc, and Keith moved.

Metal clanged against metal, and Keith grunted as Shiro pressed down, pushing the hot blade closer to Keith’s face. He pushed back, arms shaking with exertion; Shiro had always been the stronger of the two, after all.

“Shiro, please,” Keith gasped, his voice rough with exhaustion and unshed tears. “Y-You’re my brother.”

Shiro pushed down harder, a sharp, eager grin stretching across his face as the blade came closer to Keith’s face.

Keith coughed, shuddering as his injuries flared. “I love you,” he whispered, unable to tear his gaze away from his brother’s face.

Shiro jerked back, a small, surprised gasp escaping his lips. But as soon as it appeared, the moment of vulnerability was gone.

“Just let go, Keith,” Shiro snarled, pressing harder. “You don’t have to fight anymore.” He bared his teeth. “By now, the team’s already gone.”

Something deep inside Keith broke at those words. Allura, Coran, Hunk, Pidge, Lance…they couldn’t be gone. They couldn’t.

A malicious grin spread across Shiro’s face, stretching his usually kind features into something gruesome.

“I saw to it myself.”

No. God, no.

But Keith didn’t have the time or energy to think about it more; heat blazed across his face as Shiro’s sword dipped closer.

Then agony as the blade dug into his cheek. It burned as it went, and Keith’s vision whited out. He might have screamed. He didn’t know; his vision was fading to black as he lost consciousness.

I’m sorry. Lance had told him to be careful, just before Keith had gone through the wormhole. Keith had promised he would. I’m so sorry.

Then something deep inside Keith’s mind rumbled, sending a surge of strength coursing through his limbs.

Bring my Paladin home, the Black Lion rumbled. Save him.

The Black Bayard formed in Keith’s hand, and he swung up.

Shiro’s prosthetic arm clattered to the ground, and he stumbled back with a shriek. The sound pierced Keith to his very core.

That was his brother. He’d just hurt Shiro.

The former Black Paladin crumpled, clutching at his stump and gasping with pain.

Goodbye, Paladin, the Black Lion whispered, a resounding purr echoing in Keith’s mind. You have served me well.

And then her presence departed, leaving Keith with an empty space in his mind. The Black Bayard melted away into nothing; the strength that had filled him drained away, and Keith swayed on his feet, black spots dancing in his vision.

All at once, his exhaustion and injuries flooded him, and Keith fell to his knees, struggling to stay conscious. He barely registered as Shiro shakily rose to his feet, the eerie violet glow gone from his eyes. He almost didn’t notice when the ground fell out from beneath his feet, and Shiro clamped onto his wrist with a panicked cry.

The last thing Keith remembered was falling, down into the light. Shiro’s only remaining hand was clamped around his wrist as the white light engulfed them both.

And then Keith’s vision went black.

The Black Lion came from nowhere, a familiar, comforting roar resounding in Shiro’s mind as he and his brother fell into nothingness.

She swooped in, jaw opened wide, and swallowed them both.

Shiro grunted as he hit the ground hard, rolling into the wall as Black straightened out. Keith crumpled to the floor, not moving, and Shiro’s breath hitched.

He’d seen what his fake, the intruder in his body, had done to Keith, to all of them. He’d seen, and fought as hard as he could, but he had been powerless to watch as Kuron doomed his family to death, as he hurt Keith, tried to kill him.

And possibly succeeded.

Shiro ran to his side, rolling Keith over with shaking fingers. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.

Keith’s eyes were closed, his face pale. The gash in his cheek was deep, leaking blood; the sharp, acrid scent of burned flesh filled Shiro’s nostrils.

Keith’s pulse was steady, though, and Shiro nearly collapsed with relief. He didn’t kill his brother. Not like he killed the others.

The guilt and remorse churned in Shiro’s gut, and he gasped as tears ran down his cheeks. They were gone. He’d killed them, and they were gone.

Shiro’s shoulders shook as a sob was torn from him. Wise, caring Coran, with his stories and quiet grief and solid support. Brave Allura, with her strength, her rousing speeches, her dedication to the cause. Gentle Hunk, a teenager thrown into a war with more courage than Shiro could ever hope to possess. Pidge, with her bravery, her determination, and her family waiting on Earth for her return. Lance, with his courage, his laughter. The way he was one of the few who could make Keith smile like that, make him laugh until he snorted.

His family.

He’d ended them all.

Maybe he really was the Champion. Maybe he really was a monster; he couldn’t protect them.

They’d died by his hand.

Get up, Black rumbled, voice laced with urgency and impatience. They live on, but not for much longer.

“They’re alive?” Shiro gasped, sitting up and wiping his face.

Green’s Paladin is resourceful, Black purred. But they are in danger now. They need their head.

Pidge. Of course. Shiro was so relieved he almost started crying again.

Instead, he gathered Keith’s limp body into his arms and gently laid him out on the cot. Then he slid into the pilot’s seat, letting out a soft sigh as the Black Lion’s presence washed over him. He hadn’t felt her like this for a long time, not since the battle with Zarkon nearly a year ago. Not since Haggar used him to spy on his team.

Shiro raised his one good arm to the controls, glancing at the stump of his right shoulder. He’d have to make do.

So, with his mind being his own again, Shiro raced to the aid of his team. He wasn’t going to fail them.

Keith woke up to someone carrying him, running through blue-lit corridors. He glanced up to see Shiro’s face, mouth set in a grim expression.

Keith flinched, shoving himself out of Shiro’s arms and scrambling to get away. His whole body was aching horribly, and his cheek felt like it was on fire, but he didn’t care.

Shiro raised his hands, staying back. “Don’t worry, it’s me!”

“That’s what I thought earlier,” Keith snarled, hand hovering over his Marmora blade.

Shiro winced. “I…wasn’t myself,” he admitted. “Haggar was doing something to me, I don’t know what.”

He sounded just as scared and confused as Keith felt.

“We can talk about this later,” Shiro continued, voice urgent. “Right now, the team’s fighting Lotor, and they don’t have any backup.”

Keith hesitated, then straightened, the hand on his knife falling away. “Fine. Later.”

Lance swore as he skidded out into the hall, pulling his helmet over his head. Pidge, Allura and Hunk were out there alone. He had to help.

He sprinted down the hall, very nearly bowling Allura over as she ran the opposite direction. Lance did a double take and skidded to a stop.

“Allura! I thought you were out there!”

Allura shook her head, looking distraught. “Blue won’t let me in!”

“What? Why?” Why now, of all times?

“I don’t know! She won’t speak to me!”

Panic was clawing up Lance’s throat, but he pushed it down. Keith wasn’t there, which meant Lance was the acting leader. He had to stay cool.

“Keep trying. I’ll get out there with Red.”

Allura nodded, turning to make her way back to Blue’s hangar. And Lance ran on.

He slowed as he entered Red’s hangar; the Lion proudly sat in his usual place, the particle barrier surrounded him in a safe bubble of red.

Wait.

Red never had his barrier up when Lance was there; usually the Lion was up and raring to go, tail lashing, eyes glinting.

Now his golden eyes didn’t show a single shred of recognition even as Lance ran forward and pressed his hands to the barrier.

“Red! What the hell? We need to get out there!” Why were the Lions doing this? What the hell were they thinking?

“Lance, any luck?” Allura’s voice filtered through his comms.

“He’s shutting me out!” Lance cried, feeling something sharp prick his heart at the words. First Blue. Then Red. Would he ever be enough?

“Lance!”

Lance jumped at the new voice in his ear. “Keith? Keith? Holy sh*t, are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Keith grunted, sounding out of breath. “Listen, you need to get to Blue, okay?”

“What? Keith, she rejected me! There’s no way she’ll-”

“Lance, do you trust me?” Keith’s voice was firm.

Lance sighed. “You know I do, carino.”

“Just go to Blue. I’m on my way to Red now; we need to go help the team.”

Lance had been turning to leave, but he froze. “Wait, who’s piloting Black?”

“Shiro. Whoever attacked us…that wasn’t Shiro, not really. There’s too much to explain right now; once we’re done with Lotor I’ll explain everything.”

Lance sighed. “All right. Heading to Blue.”

“I will get to the bridge,” Allura declared. “Coran will need my assistance there.”

Lance tore down the hallway, wondering if Blue would actually let him in. Black had obviously re-accepted Shiro, and Keith seemed to believe Red would do the same for him.

Would Blue?

He shook his head as he ran, shoving the thoughts away. Mission first. Insecurities and doubts later. His friends couldn’t afford for him to lose himself in his thoughts.

Lance burst into Blue’s hangar, pausing at the sight of her. She was as gorgeous as the day she’d rejected him. Her hull gleamed, her eyes glowing gold in the light.

As Lance approached, he felt a presence brush up against his mind, one he hadn’t felt in almost a year.

Blue’s particle barrier dissolved, and she stepped forward, lowering her head to the ground.

Lance hesitated; nearly a year of unresolved hurt and loss churned in his gut. A gentle brush of apology curled through his mind, a promise to explain later.

Join the club, Lance thought grudgingly. He took a fortifying breath and strode up the ramp.

Her interior was just as Lance remembered. He wanted to stop and reminisce, but the shouts and grunts of his team in his ears drove him to slide into the pilot’s seat.

The screens lit up, and Blue roared, lifting her head from the ground. She bounded forward and took off, and Lance couldn’t stop the wide grin spreading across his face.

He was back.

They’d never been as much of a single unit as they were now. With the Lions having claimed their original Paladins, Lotor didn’t stand a chance.

Red and Keith fought like they’d never parted, wielding Voltron’s sword with ease. Blue and Lance and Blue roared as one as Voltron’s thrusters flared, driving them forward for another collision.

Black and Shiro battled like they never had before, directing the team with a nudge of thought, lending strength where it was needed.

Lotor was left in the quintessence field, and Voltron made their escape.

They’d won yet another impossible battle.

The bridge was silent as the Paladins sat at their stations. Keith and Shiro were on their way.

Allura and Coran stood at the control panel, and the strange Galra woman and Altean girl stood off to the side.

The tension in the room was so thick it could’ve been sliced with a sword.

After all, the last time they’d seen Shiro, he’d tried to kill them.

Lance couldn’t sit; he paced back and forth between the red and blue seats, unsure of where to sit, unsure of if he even wanted to.

Then the doors slid open, and Lance’s head snapped up. Keith and Shiro stood there, looking battered and exhausted; and it didn’t escape Lance’s attention that Keith stood as far away from his brother as he possibly could.

What really drew Lance’s attention was the ugly gash in Keith’s cheek. He ran forward as Keith stepped inside, gently cupping his boyfriend’s face to inspect the wound.

“Keith, what-”

“Later,” Keith whispered, gently removing Lance’s hands from his face with his own; Lance didn’t miss the fact that Keith’s hands were shaking.

He hesitated, then nodded as Keith and Shiro headed for the bridge. Lance walked with them, placing himself between Keith and Shiro. He didn’t care if it was an accident, or mind control, or whatever. Keith was hurt, and Shiro had been the one to do the hurting. On the off chance of it happening again…Lance didn’t want Keith getting hurt.

“I have a lot to explain,” Keith said, crossing his arms. “Just…don’t interrupt until I’m done.”

And so he told them everything. Shiro’s clone, their battle at the facility. Lance knew he was leaving things out, but he didn’t push. He could see Keith’s hands shaking where he stood, and the way he wouldn’t meet Shiro’s eyes.

Then Shiro took over, explaining how the Lion had pushed his consciousness from the astral plane into the clone’s body. And somehow the Lions had reverted to their original, stronger bonds.

“I think that is enough explaining for one day,” Coran said finally, stepping in. He looked as exhausted as all of them, worn out and drained from such a long, hard battle. “I think it is best we all head off to bed.”

“Keith needs a healing pod,” Lance said as everyone stood to leave.

Keith opened his mouth to argue, but Lance shook his head. “Nope. We’re not negotiating.”

Lance’s boyfriend sighed and nodded, heading to follow Lance to the infirmary. The fact that he didn’t push the matter more just added to Lance’s worry.

They entered the room, and Coran began to prep the pod. “Help Number Four into the cryosuit, would you, Number Three?”

Lance nodded and helped Keith sit on the cot. The Red Paladin tried to take off his own armor, but Lance stopped him.

“Don’t move. I’ll get it.”

Keith exhaled shakily as Lance unclipped his armor and pulled it off; he tried to be gentle, but Keith winced whenever his wounds were jostled.

Finishing with the armor, Lance went for the black flightsuit, unzipping it in the back and carefully peeling it off Keith’s frame.

Lance suppressed a gasp as Keith’s wounds appeared, dark bruises and deep cuts mottling his torso.

Keith hissed in a breath as Lance began to help him into the cryosuit; Lance apologized under his breath.

When they were done, Lance helped Keith sit on the cot again to rest; he looked like he was barely staying conscious.

Lance sat next to him, and Keith leaned on him slightly. He was shaking, Lance realized, and he wrapped an arm around Keith’s waist.

“Keith? Estas bien?”

Keith shook his head. “No,” he whispered, and Lance pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. Keith rested his head on Lance’s shoulder, letting out a long, shuddering breath.

They stayed like that until Coran called that the pod was ready. Lance helped Keith stand, keeping an arm around his boyfriend’s waist to support some of his weight.

Coran and Lance both helped him climb into the pod, and Lance stayed by Keith’s side as the glass slid into place. He lifted a hand, smiling reassuringly as the chill overtook Keith’s senses and he was pulled into cryosleep.

He came out of the pod a day later, and Lance helped him to their room to rest. He ached from sleeping on the floor of the infirmary; but he’d wanted to be there when Keith woke up, and the strange Galra woman had stayed in the infirmary, too. Lance wasn’t sure how much Keith trusted her, and he didn’t want to leave his boyfriend alone in a room with a stranger.

Keith was silent as they walked to their room, the echoing walls of the Castle walls swallowing up the sounds of their footsteps.

They reached the room, and Lance opened the door as Keith stepped inside. Lance closed the door behind him and sighed.

“Are you okay?”

Keith didn’t meet his eyes. The scar on his face stretched from his jawline to his cheekbone, a reminder of the injury he’d gotten while fighting his brother.

“Keith,” Lance said, ducking to meet Keith’s eyes. “You can talk to me.”

The other sighed, sinking down to sit on the bed. “I just…there’s a lot going on,” he murmured haltingly.

Lance huffed out a laugh, sitting beside him. “You can say that again.”

Keith hesitated before continuing haltingly. “I…I know that I wasn’t actually fighting Shiro, but…God, Lance, he looked just like him. I thought it was him, even when he hurt me. I thought it was him.” His voice was raw and vulnerable, and Lance gently took Keith’s hand in his, twining their fingers together and resting their joined hands on his thigh.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that,” Keith murmured, squeezing Lance’s hand. “He did this to my face, you know.”

“I figured he did,” Lance admitted softly. He was equal parts relieved that he hadn’t had to fight Shiro, and horrified that Keith had been forced to. He knew the Red and Black Paladins were especially close.

“And I know he wasn’t in control,” Keith continued at a whisper, “but every time I close my eyes I’m there again, and he’s trying to…” Keith cut off, biting his lip; Lance squeezed his hand.

They sat in silence for a time, then Lance sighed.

“I still can’t believe Blue let me back in,” he admitted. “It felt so…final after she shut me out. I thought that was that.”

Keith leaned on Lance’s shoulder with his own. “I figured she would,” he murmured. “You and Blue are perfect for each other.”

Lance sighed, leaning into Keith. “I always thought we were,” he whispered. “But even after she let me in yesterday…it was like she was behind a wall. I could feel her, but it was subdued. I…I guess our bond needs some work,” he finished with a sad smile. “It’s been a while since our last spa night.”

Keith rubbed the pad of his thumb across Lance’s knuckles. He’d known it hit Lance hard to lose Blue; it must be difficult, coming back to her after so long.

“You’ll get the bond back,” he murmured. “I know you can. You were Blue’s first choice, and you’re resilient.”

Lance’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Thanks.”

After another long moment of comfortable silence, Lance exhaled. “Who was that Galra who came with you?”

Keith sighed; he’d known he would have to explain Krolia sooner or later.

“She’s my mother, apparently.”

Lance stiffened in surprise. “Really? It’s her?”

Keith nodded, pushing away from Lance to sit cross-legged on the bed; he still kept his hand in Lance’s. He picked at the blanket, not meeting Lance’s eyes. “I met her about a week ago, on the Blade mission. I…haven’t had much of a chance to talk to her.”

“How do you feel about all this?” Lance asked, tracing patterns on the back of Keith’s hand.

Keith exhaled heavily. “I…don’t know,” he admitted. “She’s been gone my whole life, and then she just…shows up one day and expects me to call her ‘mom.’” His voice was bitter.

Lance chewed his lower lip. “I’m…not all that experienced with this,” he admitted, “but I think…you don’t have to have her in your life if you don’t want her there. You don’t owe her anything. You choose your own family, and it doesn’t have to be blood.”

Keith sighed, squeezing Lance’s fingers. “I know.” He yawned, and Lance chuckled.

“Come on, sleepyhead.”

They curled up beneath the blankets, settling down to sleep.

Keith was exhausted, but he didn’t want to sleep, not yet. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before speaking.

“Hey, Lance?”

“Hmm?” Lance opened his eyes, meeting Keith’s in the darkness.

Keith shifted closer, leaning up on one elbow to lean over his boyfriend. His hair fell over his shoulder in a curtain of black.

“You’re my family,” Keith murmured, brushing Lance’s hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

Lance smiled, pulled Keith down for a kiss. It was long, slow, and gentle, familiar and comforting. When Keith pulled away, he rested his forehead against Lance’s, breathing in their mingling scents.

Lance’s fingers brushed against Keith’s cheek, ghosting over his scar to tuck his hair behind his ear. When he spoke, his breath brushed over Keith’s skin.

“And you’re mine.”

Keith laid back down, nuzzling into Lance’s collarbone. Lance’s arm snaked over his waist, pulling him closer.

It was warm. It was familiar.

And it was home.

Chapter 21: Amethyst Vortex

Chapter Text

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been looking into space. Watching the stars, wondering if there’s someone up there. Wondering if we’re all alone, or if there’s life up there in the endless expanse of stars.

I was looking in the wrong direction.

When aliens came to Earth, it was from deep beneath the Pacific Ocean. A fissure between tectonic plates. A portal between dimensions.

The Breach.

I was fifteen when the first Kaiju appeared in San Francisco. By the time missiles and tanks brought it down, six days and 35 miles later…

three cities were destroyed. Tens of millions of lives lost.

We mourned our dead, memorialized the attack, and moved on.

And then, only six months later, the next attack hit Manila.

Then the third one hit Cuba.

Then the fourth.

And we learned…

this wasn’t going to stop.

This was just the beginning.

We needed a new weapon.

The world came together, pooled resources, throwing old rivalries aside for the sake of the greater good.

To fight monsters…

we created monsters of our own.

The Jaeger program was born.

There were setbacks at first. The neural interface, which connects the pilot to their Jaeger, was too much for a single pilot to bear. It tore their bodies and minds apart. So a two-pilot system was implemented. Left hemisphere and right hemisphere pilot control, connected to each other and their Jaeger, becoming one unit.

We started winning.

Jaegers stopped Kaiju all over the world. But the Jaegers were only as good as its pilot. So Jaeger pilots became celebrities. Danger became propaganda.

We got really good at it. Winning.

Then…

then everything changed.

Keith woke up to someone shaking his shoulder. He groaned and rolled over to stare blearily at the clock.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shiro, it’s three-thirty. What in the hell-”

“Keith, come on!” Shiro said, pulling at his brother’s shoulder. “We’re being deployed!”

His exhaustion vanished, and Keith sat up, tearing off his nightshirt and replacing it with his uniform. He pulled on his trousers and laced his boots, all the while Shiro stood over him, urging him to hurry.

A voice echoed over the intercoms, repeating the message that Keith had slept through.

Ebony Titan, report to bay 0-8, level A-42.

Kaiju. Code name: Knifehead.

Category 3. 8700 metric tons.

Keith slipped his dog tags around his neck and darted out the door, Shiro on his heels.

“They sure know how to pick the time,” Keith complained, and Shiro laughed.

They made their way to the hangar, both feeling the building adrenaline of pre-battle.

Keith had never thought he was much a hero. Shiro was; it wasn’t hard to imagine the oldest sibling fighting in a war, saving lives with every battle. Keith was different; he’d never had many friends, and it was hard for him to connect with people. He never imagined he would ever be a hero, one of the few lining up to save the world.

But he and Shiro had one unique skill.

They were drift-compatible.

They reached the hangar, and the prep crew ran forward with their drive suits. They were sleek and black, with red highlights in the cracks between the armor panels. Shiro pulled on his helmet, and Keith followed suit.

Keith exhaled before stepping into the co*ckpit. He’d fought countless battles with Ebony Titan, but he was still always in awe. He and Shiro stepped into their positions with practiced ease, Shiro on the right, Keith on the left.

“Good morning, Brogane boys,” a cheery voice filtered through the comms. “Sleep well?”

“Hey, Hunk, Shiro chuckled. The prep team bustled around them, hooking their suits up to Ebony’s control panels.

“How’d that date with Shay go?” Keith asked, raising a brow, even though Hunk couldn’t see him.

“Oh, it was great!” Hunk gushed, and Keith could hear his smile.

Shiro grinned. “Good for you, man!”

Hunk had never once piloted a Jaeger, or faced off with a Kaiju, but he was one of the most important people in the Shatterdome. He was in charge of building the Jaegers and directing the pilots from the control room. He kept watch on the energy signatures emitted by the Kaiju, as well as the pilots’ vital signs. They wouldn’t last a second out there without Hunk.

“Are we ready to drop, Mr. Garrett?” Coran’s voice came over comms, and Keith straightened instinctively at the voice of the Marshall. He was in charge of every Jaeger in the station. And, by extension, the pilots and everyone else.

“Ready to drop, sir,” Hunk said, his voice all business now. It was go time. “Jaeger pod getting ready to drop.”

Shiro arched a brow at Keith. “Ready for the big drop?”

Keith grinned. “Ready as you are.”

The ground lurched beneath their feet as the co*ckpit dropped like an elevator, sliding down to meet the rest of Ebony Titan’s body.

She was without a doubt the most gorgeous thing Keith had ever seen. 288 feet tall, weighing 7,080 tons. She was all smooth, sleek black metal, with a glowing red internal core that powered her.

The co*ckpit lurched again as they reached the bottom of the elevator shaft, and Keith heard the familiar sounds of the mechanisms locking into place.

“Drop-in confirmed, sir,” Hunk reported over comms, but Keith barely heard him over the excited buzz of adrenaline in his veins.

“Initiate pilot to pilot protocol,” Coran ordered.

The Jaeger began to roll forward on a platform as the lights inside her co*ckpit flickered to life. Keith and Shiro tapped at the screens, running routine diagnostics like clockwork.

“Ebony Titan is ready and aligned, sir,” Hunk reported.

“Titan, this is Marshall Coran Smythe, ready for neural handshake.”

Hunk began to count down from ten, and Keith exhaled, relaxing his body. Initiating drift was a lot harder if he was tense.

“Ready to step into my head, ace?” Shiro asked, quirking a brow.

Keith smirked. “After you. Age before beauty, old man.”

Shiro scoffed, but he didn’t have time to rebuke; Hunk’s count reached zero, and the neural handshake began.

Keith gasped as he was swept away into memories. Running in a field, laughing all the while. Wrestling with Shiro, running from him in a game of tag. Helping Keith with his homework, going bike racing with him on the weekends. Eating dinner with parents, going to concerts, driving home from school.

Seeing their first Kaiju on television. Applying to the Jaeger program as soon as they were old enough. Training, drift simulators, more training.

It wasn’t just Keith’s memories and Shiro’s. It was theirs. Their memories, their minds, their beings, existing in the same space. They weren’t separate people anymore. They were one with each other, and one with Ebony Titan.

Two pilots, mind-melding through memories with the body of a giant machine. The deeper the bond…the better they fight.

And Keith and Shiro’s bond was very, very deep.

Keith exhaled as the drift settled around them. He could feel Shiro’s own excitement and nervousness, twining around his own until he almost couldn’t tell which emotion was his and which wasn’t.

“Ready to go?” Shiro asked. He grinned when Keith silently confirmed. “Me too.”

“Use words please,” Hunk sighed. “Kogane, are you ready?”

“Yes,” Keith said, out loud this time. In the drift, pilots didn’t even need to speak to communicate with each other, but it was protocol for them to verbally confirm for the people on the other end of the comms. Poor Hunk usually had to ask the pilots of every Jaeger to confirm every question.

“Neural handshake strong and holding,” Hunk relayed over comms. “Right and left hemispheres calibrating. Let’s see a pose, shall we?”

Keith knew what Shiro was going to do almost before he did it; as one, they raised their arms. Ebony Titan pressed her massive metal fist into her palm, and Keith grinned as the techs and engineers below cheered. Ebony Titan was famous, after all.

Coran’s voice crackled over comms, and Shiro sent a gentle nudge to Keith, a reminder to pay attention.

“Gentlemen, your orders are to hold a mile off Anchorage. Copy?”

“Copy that, sir,” the brothers chorused as one.

“Remember. You are protecting a city of over two million people. You cannot afford to fail.”

“Yes, sir,” Shiro responded. He glanced at Keith. “Ready to go?”

Born ready, Keith thought, and Shiro laughed.

Come on, then. Let’s go fishing.

They began to walk, powering through the water swirling around their knees. Keith exhaled as he gazed out over the churning ocean. He wasn’t just looking through Titan’s viewscreen; he was looking through her eyes. He was her eyes.

There are things that nobody can fight. Acts of nature, acts of God. You see a hurricane coming, you get out of the way.

But when you’re in a Jaeger, suddenly you can fight the hurricane.

And you can win.

But…in war, things go wrong. Keith had no way of knowing just how wrong things could go.

But he was about to find out.

Five years later

Lance slumped against the door, letting out a heavy sigh. His hand curled into a fist, and he thumped it against the metal.

Damn it.

Inside the infirmary, Allura lay on the table, eyes closed, her silver hair fanned out around her. The field medics bustled around her, checking vitals and wrapping bandages around the gaping wound in her middle.

She’d nearly been killed in their last battle when their Kaiju, a giant bastard named Hookcutter, had torn Striker Fury’s gut open on the left side. Lance piloted on the right, so he’d escaped unscathed save for a few cuts and bruises.

Allura, on the other hand, might not ever be able to pilot again. If she even survives.

Someone rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder, and he glanced up to see Coran. The man stood with his shoulders back, his expression grim as he watched the doctors struggle to save his niece.

“Come along now, my boy,” he murmured. “You need to rest.”

Lance sighed and stood, feeling his joints creak; he’d been in that position for too long. He was sore from battle, too, his middle aching from phantom pains. When Striker Fury was damaged, they both felt it as if it was their body out there, being pummeled by a Kaiju; and when one pilot was wounded, the agony was amplified for the other pilot by tenfold. Lance had nearly been torn apart by the sheer agony of it.

Lance sighed and headed to his room. He didn’t sleep; instead, he slumped on the cot.

The Kaiju were getting smarter. After the legendary defeat of Ebony Titan five years ago, it became more and more common for Jaegers to fall. And now they were losing Jaegers faster than they could build them.

Everyone knew it; with Category 4 Kaiju coming through the Breach more and more often, the world was rapidly heading to its end.

And Lance didn’t know if he or anyone else could stop it.

“Gather ‘round,” Coran announced. The assembled crew of the Shatterdome clustered closer, listening intently. The Marshall looked like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders; of course, it did.

He was in charge of every Shatterdome in the world, after all. Every Jaeger, every pilot. The weight of billions of lives rested upon his back.

He clasped his hands behind his back, and Lance felt a curl of apprehension rise in his gut. Coran looked tense and grim. Of course, nowadays most people did, but he more so than usual.

Heaving out a heavy sigh, Coran spoke. “The Jaeger program has been decommissioned.”

Gasps and exclamations of surprise swept through the assembled group of pilots and crew. Lance’s mouth dropped open.

Jaegers were the only defense against the Kaiju. What the hell was the world council thinking?

“The council has decided that the Wall of Life is the most viable option for the future,” Coran continued, and it was clear he didn’t agree. It was a temporary solution at best, building a massive wall around all the coastal cities in the world.

“My orders are to take the remaining Jaegers and pilots to the final operating Shatterdome battle station,” Coran continued. “Hong Kong. From there, we will continue to deploy Jaegers until the Wall is completed. After that…” he sighed. “The Jaegers will all be decommissioned. Permanently.”

Lance felt something churning in his gut. There was no way this would work. The world was going to end if they went with this.

But orders were orders, and the Jaegers were expensive to upkeep. They needed the funds from the world council.

“Gather your things,” Coran finished. “We will make the move in two days.”

After the meeting, Lance bounded down the hall, calling for Coran.

The man stopped and turned. “Yes, Ranger?”

“Why are they doing this?” Lance protested. “There’s no way the Wall could-”

“I am aware,” Coran sighed. “But I have a plan. Come to my office. I need to fill you in.”

“So…” Lance’s head was spinning, but he tried to get all the facts straight. “Your plan is to gather all the world’s best pilots to the Shatterdome in Hong Kong, where you’ll launch an attack right at the Breach?”

Coran nodded, a glint in his eye. “It is the best plan,” he said. “One that will get rid of these beasts once and for all.”

Lance exhaled. “Right. When will Allura and I be ready for it?”

Coran steepled his fingers, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“What?” Lance frowned, feeling something cold settle in his gut. “What happened? Is Allura all right?” He couldn’t imagine losing his copilot. God, it would be like losing part of himself.

“She will live,” Coran said. “Unfortunately, her nerves have been damaged so badly that she will never be able to pilot a Jaeger again.”

Lance felt a chasm open up beneath his feet and swallow him up.

She can never pilot again?

They would never step into Striker Fury’s co*ckpit again, laughing and exchanging familiar banter as they prepped for battle. They would never drift again, never feel the comforting familiarity of knowing someone else, inside and out. They would never stand victorious over the body of a Kaiju, nor would they ever walk into the Shatterdome with their heads held high in triumph.

Never again.

His mouth moved, his brain automatically feeding him the words, even when he could barely think from shock.

“Then what do I do, sir? And what about Fury?”

Coran simply smiled sadly. “I have a plan in mind for you, my boy. And as for your Jaeger…we will melt her down.”

Lance felt the words like a blow to his stomach. Striker Fury was his. His and Allura’s. He couldn’t lose her, lose either of them.

But it seemed he would.

“We will use Striker Fury to build more Jaegers,” Coran explained, steepling his fingers. “One of which you will pilot.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest; he wanted no part of piloting without his copilot, his best friend, his sister.

But Coran spoke over him.

“You are one of the best pilots in the world, Ranger McClain, and I cannot afford to let good pilots go.” Coran sighed wearily. “I am sorry for taking Fury away from you. But I am doing what I must.”

Lance swallowed down his tears. “I understand,” he whispered. The inside of his throat felt like it was coated in sandpaper.

Coran nodded. “Go. Gather your belongings. I will introduce you to your new copilot when we arrive in Hong Kong.”

Allura went with them to Hong Kong.

“Even if I cannot fight, I will see the end of those monsters,” she’d hissed, eyes blazing. She’d lost her parents to the Kaiju, just as Lance had lost most of his family.

They sat together on the helicopter, watching the ocean blur by in silence. When they arrived, they helped unload supplies, and helped each other settle into their new rooms.

And when they were all finished, they watched Striker Fury be taken apart.

They sat on the balcony, legs swinging in the open space as the engineers worked far below. The balcony was so high up they were eye-level with the Jaeger, staring into her face as Hunk and his engineers slowly took her apart.

And with every piece of metal that was pulled away, a chunk of Lance’s heart went with it.

Allura was resting her head on his shoulder, an arm wrapped around his waist. She still had bandages wrapped around her body, but she could still move and walk around as long as she was careful.

“I’m going to miss you,” Lance whispered into her hair, feeling the press of tears.

Allura gently nudged him. “I won’t be leaving anytime soon,” she murmured back.

Lance sighed. That hadn’t been what he meant, and she knew it.

He would miss the Drift. He would miss seeing her memories of running through fields of flowers with her father, of learning martial arts with her mother. He would miss her presence, guiding him in battle, her exhausted, triumphant smile after a hard fight.

Allura knew, though; she hugged him tighter, and he turned his face into her hair, swallowing as the first tears began to flow.

Lance exhaled shakily as Coran waved him forward.

“Come meet your new pilot,” he announced. “You two will pilot a Jaeger together when they are finished.”

Lance stepped forward and paused, eyes widening.

“Ranger McClain,” Coran said, “may I introduce you to Ranger Kogane. Former pilot of Ebony Titan.”

Lance knew him. Takashi Shirogane’s little brother. They were the most powerful pilot team in the world-at least, until Shiro was killed in their battle against Knifehead, and his copilot disappeared for five years. Everyone thought he was dead, Lance included.

But Keith Kogane was very much alive.

He said nothing as he shook Lance’s hand. His hair was long, pulled back into a ponytail, and his eyes were wary. There was something deep inside them, something that reminded Lance of shattered glass.

He lost his copilot,Lance reminded himself. No wonder Keith looked like death walking.

“You two will begin your training now,” Coran informed them. “Proceed to the training deck to test drift compatibility.”

They stood in the middle of the training deck, breathing heavily as they weaved through each other, pushing and pulling like the tide. Keith swung with the wooden staff, and Lance moved with it, instinctively knowing where it would land and expertly avoiding it.

They weaved in and out, like partners in a dance. Keith’s ponytail was loosening, and his face was set with focus, his violet eyes narrowed.

Lance moved almost without thinking, and Keith moved with him, gracefully ducking beneath Lance’s strike. He arced upward with his staff, and Lance moved his own to block it.

They stood there, staffs crossed in the space between them, eyes locked as they panted.

Applause broke out, and Lance jumped, pulling away; he’d been so focused he hadn’t realized they had an audience.

Coran stood there, along with half a dozen Jaeger pilots.

“Congratulations, Rangers,” Coran called. “You have the strongest natural drift I have ever seen!”

Lance’s eyes widened, and he turned to Keith. The other glanced back for a moment, expression unreadable before turning on his heel and stalking away.

Lance’s brows dropped, and he tried to ignore the pang of hurt that resounded through his heart.

Coran sent him a significant look, one that said, He’s your copilot now. Go after him.

And so Lance did.

It took him a long time to find Keith; when he finally did, he was sitting in the rafters of the hangars, gazing down at the Jaegers lined up below.

Lance climbed up into the rafters with him, settling with a sigh. “Hey.”

Keith’s only response was a wary side-eye.

Lance hesitated. “Listen, man, if you don’t wanna drift with me, just tell me. Okay? Coran could probably find us both different copilots if I’m your problem.”

Keith hesitated, chewing his lower lip. He looked small, curled around the railing, chin resting on his arms.

“It’s not you,” he said finally, and his voice was soft and rough. Hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in a very long time.

Lance turned, brows furrowed. “It’s…it’s not?”

Keith exhaled shakily. “It’s just…the last time I ever drifted with someone…it was my brother.”

Lance froze, horror creeping up on him.

Oh god.

That’s right, Keith’s copilot was killed during battle. The Kaiju had ripped off Ebony Titan’s left arm, leaving Keith useless and unable to help as Shiro controlled the right to continue fighting. And then…he’d been killed, and Keith was alone.

He’d taken his brother’s place to fight, to protect the city of millions. Keith had taken on the entire neural interface load, one that was meant to be carried by two people. And he’d held it for two hours while he fought a Category 3 Kaiju alone. When the Kaiju was finally defeated, Keith managed to limp the two miles to land. He’d collapsed; the neural load had nearly killed him. Not to mention the fact that his brother had died right next to him while their minds were still connected in the drift.

No wonder Keith wasn’t eager to drift again.

Lance exhaled, resting his head against the railing. “I…know what happened,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Keith exhaled, curling into a tighter ball.

Lance hesitated. “If…if you drift with me, we can beat them. Once and for all. You felt it too, didn’t you? Our natural drift is unbelievably strong, and we haven’t even been in a Jaeger together yet!”

Keith swallowed, then nodded. “I felt it,” he murmured.

Lance gently nudged him. “Then…are you willing to give it a try?”

Keith chewed the inside of his lip. “I don’t have much of a choice,” he sighed. “If I decided not to fight to save millions, Shiro would haunt my ass forever.”

Lance chuckled; Keith stood, offering a hand to Lance. He helped him stand, and Keith hesitated, hiding behind his bangs. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

“And…I’ve been hiding from the fight for long enough. It’s time to teach those bastards a lesson.”

And so they began their training. Their Jaeger was under construction, so they couldn’t drift for a few weeks until it was completed. In the meantime, though, Keith and Lance worked out on the training deck, exploring and strengthening their natural drift.

There were three other teams of pilots. Siblings Pidge and Matt Holt piloted a Jaeger called Duke Vulcan. It was smaller than most Jaegers, but it was fast and really packed a punch. Ryan Kinkade and Nadia Rizavi piloted Serpent Brawler, an ancient Mark 1 from the early days, one of the very first models to be built. James Griffin and Ina Leifsdottir piloted Onyx Diablo, one of the newer models.

Together, they would save the world.

But first, breakfast.

Lance sat down with a sigh, digging his spoon into the mashed potatoes. The good thing about living on a Shatterdome so close to shore was that they had access to real food, something that was scarce in the Jaeger business.

Keith sat next to him, slumping down in his chair. They were working tirelessly to build a suitable drift together outside the co*ckpit; once their Jaeger was completed, they wouldn’t have much time to get used to drifting to each other before the final mission. So they were both in a state of almost constant exhaustion.

After all, the Kaiju kept coming. And there were only three Jaegers left to fight them all off.

Well, soon to be four.

Out of habit, Lance glanced up at the Battle Clock as he ate; it was a count of how long it had been since the last Kaiju attack. After every one, the clock was reset.

It was a reminder of how quickly everything could go to sh*t. And of how f*cked the world was if they couldn't pull this off.

There was a clatter of trays as Pidge, Matt, and Hunk all sat down next to them. Over the past three weeks of being at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, they had all become a close group of friends. Hunk and Keith had already known each other from Keith’s Ebony Titan days, and they had been very happy to see each other again. Lance, Pidge, and Hunk had all gone to the Garrison together to train for the military, and he was overjoyed to be with his friends again.

Even at the end of the world.

“Lance! Keith!” Hunk exclaimed, eyes bright. “Your Jaeger’s nearly finished!”

Both pilots perked up at that, heads snapping up to meet Hunk’s eyes.

“Really?” Keith asked, sounding more light and open than Lance had ever heard him.

Hunk nodded, reaching into his vest pocket. “I…wanted to give you this, Lance,” he said. He pressed something small and cool into Lance’s hands.

Lance held the object up and gasped. It was a dog tag, hammered from the same dark blue metal that had once been Striker Fury’s outer armor.

Ranger Lance McClain, one side read. Lance flipped it over and smiled. Striker Fury, 2030-2038

“Thanks, man,” Lance said with a grin.

“I made one for Allura, too,” Hunk explained. “There was enough leftover metal to make one for both of you.”

Lance felt the press of tears, but he swallowed it down as he strung it onto his chain with the rest. “Seriously, man, this means a lot.”

Hunk smiled. “Don’t mention it. And, Keith?” He held out two more dog tags, made from black metal.

Keith stiffened, and reached out with a shaking hand.

“I made these from what we salvaged five years ago,” Hunk said softly. “I…I think he would want you to have both of them.”

One dog tag read Keith’s name. The other had Shiro’s. Keith ran his fingers over his brother’s carved name, letting out a shaky breath.

“Thanks, Hunk.”

The engineer patted Keith on the shoulder. “It was no problem, man. Not at all.”

Lance peered over Keith’s shoulder, and he huffed out a laugh, giving Lance one to look at.

Lance read Keith’s name, then flipped the tag over to see the other side.

Ebony Titan, 2028-2033

Lance handed it back. “Those are so cool,” he murmured.

Keith strung them both onto his own chain, smiling sadly as Shiro’s name rested above his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.”

Keith sighed, watching as the engineering crew put the finishing touches on the Jaeger. Our Jaeger, Keith thought, glancing at Lance. When Coran had come to him, asking him to return to the Shatterdome, Keith had been terrified. Of stepping back into a Jaeger, of feeling the drift again.

But now, after training with Lance for weeks, he wasn’t as scared anymore.

They were copilots. They’d watch each other’s backs. And they’d end this hellish war once and for all.

“What are we gonna call her?” Lance asked softly, resting his chin on his knees.

Keith shrugged, watching the crews scurry around the Jaeger’s head like so many little ants. It was much larger than Ebony Titan had been, sleeker and stronger and beautiful. It was all long, graceful curves and sleek, deadly limbs.

“I wanted you to decide,” Keith admitted. “I was never any good at naming Jaegers.” Shiro had been the one to name Titan. He’d always been better with names.

Lance shrugged. “I don’t know, man. I was thinking…maybe something with ‘Vortex’ in the name. That’s a badass name.”

Keith laughed. “What else, though? We need another name.”

“It should be something that represents both of us,” Lance murmured, gazing down at their Jaeger. “Something that we’re both a part of.”

“‘Amethyst,’” Keith murmured thoughtfully.

Lance looked up in surprise. He smiled teasingly. “If we’re going for red and blue, maybe ‘violet’ would be better?”

Keith shoved him playfully. “‘Amethyst sounds way cooler, asshole,” he laughed.

Lance chuckled, sitting back up. “‘Amethyst Vortex,’” he murmured thoughtfully, rolling the syllables around in his mouth. “I like it.”

They returned to watching, sitting with their shoulders touching.

And for the first time in a very long time, Keith felt at peace.

Agony washed up his left arm, sending waves of pain through the rest of his body. Keith gritted his teeth, forcing the pain away. If he gave up, millions of people would pay the price.

Shiro lifted him, supporting him through the drift.

This isn’t over yet!

Keith yelled as he turned Ebony around, and Shiro leaned back to crack their fist across Knifehead’s ugly mug.

The Kaiju shrieked and dove beneath the water. It would resurface soon; they had to be ready.

“It’s coming!” Hunk yelled through the comms. “Get ready!”

Shiro turned to Keith then, expression grim. “Keith, listen to me! You need to-”

He was broken off by an ungodly screech of metal against metal as the entire right side of Ebony Titan’s co*ckpit was ripped away-and Shiro went with it.

Agony like Keith had never known roared through the drift, tearing through his body as Shiro’s mind was brutally ripped away.

And then there was nothing.

Keith screamed, a desperate, inhuman wail of grief and pain. The weight of the neural load sent waves of sheer agony through his body as he controlled the entire massive Jaeger by himself.

Running on pure adrenaline, Keith shoved the plasma gun down the Kaiju’s throat, emptying the clip with a scream.

Then there was a voice, and the load was lightening.

Keith gasped as the pain faded, and he turned to see Lance in Shiro’s place, expression grim as he battled the Kaiju.

“Keith, come on!” Lance yelled. “Help me!”

Keith was frozen in place. Everything hurt and he could still feel Shiro in his head, screaming, dying.

“Keith!” Lance yelled again. Then the Kaiju ripped Keith's copilot away once more.

Again, agony like Keith had never felt tore through him, ripping a hoarse, guttural scream from his throat.

Lance was ripped away, and the neural load was Keith’s once again.

And he broke.

Keith woke with a scream, thrashing in the blankets as his mind fully awoke. It hurt and Shiro was gone, and Lance was dead, and it was all his fault .

Then there were arms around him, pulling him into a fierce hug. Keith struggled at first, his panic-addled brain unable to process. A hand cupped the back of his head, pressing his ear to a warm chest. Against a gentle, steady heartbeat.

Keith’s struggles slowed, and the buzzing in his ears faded enough to hear a voice, gently coaxing him back, never wavering.

Lance.

He didn’t realize he’d said the name aloud until Lance’s fingers began to weave through his hair.

“Yeah, it’s me, I’m right here. Just breathe, okay? Breathe with me.”

Keith forced in breath after shaky breath, focusing on Lance’s heartbeat beneath his ear. Lance’s hands were warm as they held him, carded through his hair, gently rocked him back and forth.

Finally, when it didn’t feel like his chest was being crushed anymore, Keith reluctantly pulled back.

“What are you even doing in here?” His voice was totally shot, rough and hoarse from screaming and crying.

“I heard you,” Lance answered, blue eyes almost black in the dim light. “Figured you were having a bad dream.”

Keith nodded, rubbing shaking hands over his face.

“You…wanna talk about it?” Lance asked tentatively.

Keith sighed. “Shiro,” he murmured. “It was Shiro again.”

Lance didn’t look surprised. He rubbed Keith’s upper arm in comforting circles, and Keith leaned into the touch, aching for comfort.

They sat in silence for a time, then Lance pulled back. “I should probably let you get some sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

He rose to leave, but Keith caught hold of his wrist. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Can you stay? Please?”

Lance nodded, turning back. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

Keith scooted aside to make room, turning on his side to face Lance as he curled up beneath the blankets.

Lance reached out, and Keith automatically slipped his hand into Lance’s, squeezing his hand. Lance squeezed back, smiling in the dark.

“Good night, Keith.”

The last thing Keith thought before succumbing to sleep was how much he loved hearing his name roll from Lance’s lips.

“You ready?” Lance asked, glancing at Keith. His copilot nodded, blowing out a deep breath.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he murmured. He looked like he’d gotten a better night’s sleep than he had in years, despite waking up in the middle of the night.

Lance had heard him sobbing and crying out in his sleep, and he hadn’t been surprised to hear what Keith had been having a nightmare about. Losing a copilot like that…that was enough to give anyone nightmares.

But now Keith looked awake and alert as the prep team slipped them into their suits. It was their test run for today, and tomorrow…this war ended. One way or another.

Lance felt the familiar jitters rising as he stepped into the co*ckpit.

In Striker Fury, he’d always piloted on the left. But Keith’s left arm had been badly damaged when Ebony Titan’s left arm was ripped off in that final, tragic battle five years ago; the electricity from the drivesuit had fried his arm, so he was unable to drift with a Jaeger with his left arm.

So Keith was on the right, and Lance was on the left. They stepped into the pedals, their boots slotting in perfectly. The prep team buzzed around them, clipping their suits to the control panels and hooking them up to Amethyst Vortex’s control panels.

Amethyst Vortex. The name sent shivers of excitement up Lance’s spine. His Jaeger. Their Jaeger.

“Ready to go, you two?” Hunk asked, and Lance glanced at Keith. His violet eyes were on Lance, wary and afraid, but he nodded, expression set.

“We’re ready,” Lance reported.

“Commencing neural handshake,” Hunk replied, and Lance closed his eyes as the drift between them opened up.

Memories blurred by, ones he recognized, and ones he didn’t. Playing soccer, with Marco’s laughing face. A man standing over him, with a prosthetic arm and a shock of white hair. His gray eyes were kind, crinkling at the corners as he smiled. A hoverbike, sleek and red, gleaming in the setting sun. A young woman playing her guitar, mouth moving as she sang in Spanish. Training at the Garrison, with two others, one large and broad, the other tiny and thin. Training at the Garrison with the same man from before, laughing together over lunch.

Watching the Kaiju tear through the streets of Havana, jaws parting in an ungodly shriek. Seeing his mother, his sister and brother, disappear beneath a pile of rubble.

Seeing his brother be ripped from the co*ckpit, his final words echoing in his mind. Piloting the Jaeger on his own, ignoring how the effort tore his mind and body in two.

Lance gasped as the drift stabilized, setting around them. He laughed out loud in pure delight; he’d never felt anything like this. Not even with Allura, not even after years of piloting together.

Keith laughed too, his excitement bolstered by Lance’s, rushing around each other in a swirl of giddy emotion.

“Whoa!” Hunk exclaimed. “I’ve never seen numbers like these! Marshall, take a look at this!”

A moment later, Coran’s proud voice boomed through the comms. “Excellent job, Rangers! Your drift is even stronger than I thought it would be!”

Lance grinned at Keith. The question formed in his mind, and Keith was answering before Lance could speak it, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Hell yeah, I know what you’re thinking!”

Lance laughed again; he felt so light. The drift had never been like this.

“Um, could you fill me in, here?” Hunk asked. “I don’t read your minds, sorry.”

“Can we take her for a test run?” Keith asked, looking radiant. Lance had never seen him so happy, not after nearly a month and a half of them being copilots.

“Absolutely, Ranger Kogane,” Coran said, sounding more like his usual jovial self than Lance had heard in a long time. “We’re opening the bay doors now!”

The ground beneath Amethyst Vortex’s feet rumbled as the massive bay doors slid apart. Lance’s excitement flared, raring to go, and Keith laughed, loud and freeing.

“You are a go,” Hunk reported. “Take her out!”

They didn’t need to be told twice. They ran forward as one, whooping with excitement as Vortex responded, charging out into the sunlight. They ran through the water, both laughing almost giddily as the drift swirled around them both.

It took a long time for Hunk and Coran to get them back inside. By the time they were settling back into Amethyst Vortex’s bay, both boys were out of breath and red-faced with exertion and happiness.

The drift faded as the Jaeger shut down, and Lance’s knees nearly buckled. He fell against Keith, and they stumbled from the Jaeger, laughing all the while.

“I see that went well!” Allura said from where she stood by Matt and Pidge. She pulled Lance into a hug.

“Those bastards won’t see what’s coming!” Pidge exclaimed, exchanging a high-five with Keith.

Lance grinned, feeling all the excitement bubble in his chest. “No, they won’t.”

Lance was preparing for bed when someone knocked on his door. It was late; most everyone was asleep already. The mission was tomorrow. Everything they were fighting for, all the sacrifices, all the deaths…tomorrow, everything would come to a head. For better or for worse, this war was ending once and for all.

So he was surprised to hear someone at his door; but when he opened it, he wasn’t surprised to see Keith standing there.

“Hey man. Wanna come in?” He stepped aside, and Keith walked in, arms wrapped around his middle.

He was wearing his nightshirt, Lance noticed, and sweatpants.

“Can I stay here?” Keith asked quietly.

Lance nodded, wordlessly motioning toward the bed as he headed to brush his teeth. He was glad Keith had come; in fact, if his copilot hadn’t come to Lance’s room first, Lance would’ve gone to his.

It was a habit of his, sharing a bed with his copilot whenever they needed it. Allura was his sister in everything but blood, and they were always happy to snuggle whenever they felt down.

Keith was his copilot now. And they both needed it tonight, with what would happen tomorrow.

He stepped from the bathroom, pulling on his pajama shirt and climbing into bed. Keith was laying with his back to Lance, but as the other slid beneath the covers, he flipped over to face him.

They laid in silence for a long time, just listening to the other breathe. Finally, Keith broke the silence.

“After tomorrow…what will you do? When this is all over?”

Assuming we’re still alive then. Neither of them said it, but they both thought it.

Lance hesitated. “Go home, probably. See my brother and his kids, and my sister.” He shifted in bed, curling his body beneath the covers. “You?”

“I don’t know,” Keith admitted. “I…don’t have any family left, and…fighting the Kaiju has been my whole life for a long time. I-I don’t know what I’ll do when it’s over.”

“You can come with me, if you want,” Lance said almost before thinking.

Keith stared at him in the dark, and Lance cursed himself.

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

“I’d like that,” Keith interrupted softly.

“You would?” Lance’s brows furrowed. “Are you sure?”

Keith hesitated, picking at the pillow, eyes downcast. “I…I’ve been alone for a long time,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “After Shiro…I didn’t have anyone. But now…there’s Pidge, and Matt, and Hunk, and…there’s you.” He looked up then, meeting Lance’s eyes. “And…I feel like myself again.”

Lance wrapped his fingers around Keith’s hand, gently twining their fingers together. “Me, too,” he murmured. After losing Striker Fury, and his drift with Allura…he’d felt lost. Empty. Amethyst Vortex and Keith had filled that hole inside him.

Lance shuffled closer, slowly wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist. His copilot curled into him, settling with a sigh.

And Lance fell asleep with Keith’s hair ticking his chin, wondering if he would live to see the next sunset.

The hangar bays were silent as they clustered around Coran. Keith stood with an arm over Lance’s shoulders, taking comfort in his copilot’s nearness. Pidge and Matt stood nearby, Pidge with her arm around Matt’s waist.

“Today,” Coran said, solemnly gazing around the room, “at the edge of our hope, at the end of our time…we have chosen to not only believe in ourselves, but each other. Today there’s not a man or woman in this room that shall stand alone. Not today.” He raised his chin, fire sparking in his eyes. “Today, we face the monsters that are at our door and bring the fight to them! Today, we are cancelling the apocalypse!”

The room erupted with raucous cheering, bellowed war cries echoing around the bays, pinging off the battle-armor of the Jaegers and resounding back. It was powerful. It was chilling. Keith and Lance added their voices to the mix, raising their fists while clenching each other’s hands.

It was time to end this war. Once and for all.

They changed into their suits in record time, settling into Amethyst Vortex’s co*ckpit like they were born for it. Keith exhaled as he was clipped in, trying to ignore how his hands shook.

This would be his first time going into battle against a Kaiju since Shiro’s death.

Hunk initiated the drifts for all four Jaegers, and both pilots exhaled as the memories blurred by. When it was done, there was none of the previous infectious excitement. Keith’s nerves churned in his gut, mixed with Lance’s own nervousness.

Keith, you need to listen to- pain, noise, fear, pain pain pain-

Lance sent a curl of calm brushing up against Keith’s mind, and he forced himself to relax. He couldn’t afford to get lost in memories; not when Lance was depending on him to carry his half of the neural load.

The Jaegers deployed, and Amethyst Vortex marched through the water, the other three Jaegers fanning out on all sides. Pidge and Matt were taking point in Duke Vulcan, with the giant nuclear bomb strapped to their back. The mission objective was for Duke Vulcan to release the charges into the Breach to seal it off-forever. Serpent Brawler, Onyx Diablo, and Amethyst Vortex were there to protect the smallest Jaeger from the Kaiju that would inevitably be guarding the entrance to the Breach.

Lance and Keith kept communicating through the drift, both keeping the other from spiraling into nervousness.

When this is over, I gotta show you the ocean, Lance thought.

We’re in the ocean, Lance, Keith pointed out as Amethyst Vortex took another step through the swirling waves. Before long, they would walk in deep enough that they would need to seal up to keep water from getting in.

No, not this ocean. From the beach. Memories of Lance sitting at the beach with his family rose to the surface of the drift, of sand castles and surfing, ice cream cones and races through the dunes.

There was a soft curl of amusem*nt from Keith, a gentle brush of that sounds nice buried beneath a wave of god I don’t even know if we’ll survive this there’s still so much I need to say so much I need to tell him

“Tell me what?” Lance asked out loud, probing curiously into Keith’s side of the drift.

He felt Keith’s walls shoot up, and so he backed off, chuckling. Sorry, sorry. Just curious.

It’s okay. I’d be curious too.

“Rangers,” Coran called, “you’re nearing the entry point. Prepare to submerge.”

“Opening shields,” Keith reported, his voice overlapping with the voices of the other Jaeger pilots chiming in from over the comms. “Ready to submerge.”

The gentle rumble of the openings sealing sent gentle tingles up Lance’s spine, and they sloshed forward, the water closing over Vortex’s head.

The four Jaegers walked along the ocean floor, the pilots squinting to see as they went deeper. Keith sent a thought, and Lance was already on it, tapping at his screen. “Activating floodlights.”

The bright white lights flickered to life, illuminating the murky water before them; silt swirled in the water, kicked up by Duke Vulcan’s movements ahead.

“Two energy signatures,” Hunk reported, “close to the cliff. Codenames: Scunner and Raiju. Both Category 4.”

“Roger that,” Griffin said from Onyx Diablo, voice crackling over comms.

Keith exhaled shakily, and Lance brushed up against him in the drift, a gentle nudge of support.

Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.

“Half a mile to the cliff,” Pidge reported, her voice steady. “After we jump down, it’s three thousand meters to the Breach.”

“Low visibility,” Kinkade murmured from Serpent Brawler. “Switching to instruments.”

The Jaegers moved forward, all pilots on high alert. Just because there were two Kaiju sighted by the Breach didn’t mean there could be more.

No sooner had Lance had the thought than Coran was shouting through the comms.

“Vortex, there’s movement on your right! Three o’ clock, three o’ clock!”

“Where?” Lance turned halfway, scanning Vortex’s control panels. “I can’t see anything!”

“The instruments aren’t showing anything,” Keith said tersely.

“Left now!” Hunk cried. “It’s moving fast! Fastest Kaiju on record!”

“I don’t see anything!” Lance repeated, sweeping Amethyst Vortex’s viewscreen back and forth. “It’s moving too fast!”

Then Nadia and Ryan cried out as one as the fast-moving Kaiju slammed into them, sending them careening into Lance and Keith.

They steadied themselves, and Serpent Brawler turned to engage, both pilots yelling defiantly as the Jaeger fought.

The Kaiju was swimming circles around them, weaving in and out between their attacks. It was too fast to hit.

“We’ll help them!” Leifsdottir yelled as Onyx Diablo came crashing in, slamming into the Kaiju. “Go protect Duke Vulcan!”

“Come on!” Keith yelled, and Lance was right behind him, charging to catch up with their friends.

A massive Kaiju erupted in front of the smaller Jaeger, sending Vulcan flying into the cliff face. Pidge and Matt managed to catch themselves with a grunt, but the Kaiju was moving toward them.

Vortex picked up the pace, sprinting through the churning water. The Kaiju threw Vulcan into the cliff face again, and Pidge and Matt’s grunts echoed over the comms as they struggled to pick themselves up. The Kaiju roared, jetting a stream of bubbles in Vulcan’s face.

Then Keith and Lance were pulling their arm back and cracking their fist across the Kaiju’s face. The beast screamed in rage, turning on them.

“Come on!” Lance yelled, clenching Amethyst Vortex’s fist.

“Vulcan, get to the Breach!” Keith yelled as Vortex engaged, ducking beneath the Kaiju’s massive head as it swung to hit them.

They moved as one inside the co*ckpit, smashing another hit to the Kaiju’s face. The thrusters on the back of the elbows engaged, powering Vortex’s massive metal fist to plant firmly into the Kaiju’s side.

The beast snarled, its long tail wrapping around their middle. Lance swore, and Keith grunted, trying to break them free.

They slammed hard into the cliff face, and both gasped as the wind was knocked from their lungs.

The Kaiju shrieked and dove down, its claws tearing into Amethyst Vortex’s gut. Both pilots screamed as pain lanced through their drivesuits, and Keith instinctively swung his fist, connecting with the side of the Kaiju’s head.

It bellowed with rage and clamped down on Vortex’s right arm and tore.

Keith’s screams echoed around the co*ckpit as his drivesuit shorted out, the drift reverberating with the agony. Lance doubled over, gasping as Keith’s pain pierced his mind, driving in deep.

And then there was a crushing weight, pulling at Lance’s mind and sending hot spikes of sheer agony lancing up his limbs, settling in on his chest like an elephant was standing on him.

Keith was doubled over, frozen in place; in the back of his mind, behind the roaring in his ears, Lance could hear a voice, shouting out, laced with desperation and pain.

Keith, listen to me! You need to-

Shiro’s voice.

Keith was trapped in the memories from the drift.

He was reliving everything he’d experienced in Ebony Titan that day.

Leaving Lance alone to shoulder the entire neural load.

“Keith!” Lance screamed, desperation and pain laced in his voice. “Snap out of it! I need you!”

Keith, listen to me!

“Keith!”

The Kaiju reared back, preparing to drive its claws into the co*ckpit.

Move, Lance.

He screamed as they rolled out of the way, tumbling over rocks and chunks of coral reef. Every movement sent agony searing through his body, through his mind; he was being torn apart beneath the weight of controlling the entire Jaeger on his own.

But he couldn’t stop. Because if he did, both he and Keith would die. And the world would end.

Vortex rolled to its feet, and Lance grunted as the weight crushed down again. He gritted his teeth and swung a punch, knocking the Kaiju back.

“Keith!” He yelled again. If this had been a simulator, and his copilot had gotten stuck in the drift like that, then he would stop and coax him back, bring him from the memory.

But he didn’t have that luxury this time. He’d have to finish this Jaeger off on his own.

Pain screamed up his arm as he smashed it into the Kaiju’s face again; the beast shrieked and kicked them away.

Lance screamed as they slammed into the cliff face, and Vortex crumpled to the ground. He could feel the cool floor of the co*ckpit against his drivesuit, and he struggled to rise. On the right side, Keith knelt, eyes wide and far away, chest heaving.

The Kaiju stalked toward them, snarling.

Lance dropped his head against the floor, closing his eyes. Tears trickled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood that was dripping from his nose and mouth. Everything hurt. He couldn’t move; it felt like a mountain had collapsed on top of him, crushing him, grinding him into dust.

I’m sorry.

“We’ve got you covered!” Suddenly, the Kaiju was thrown back from a missile blast to its shoulder. Duke Vulcan dropped in front, bending its knees to take the impact.

“Get back on your feet!” Matt continued. “We’ll hold it off until then!”

Lance watched as the smallest Jaeger charged forward, running circles around the Kaiju, landing in quick hits all around its body as it went. Beyond, Serpent Brawler and Onyx Diablo battled the fast-moving Kaiju, both Jaegers looking a little worse for wear. Brawler looked close to collapse, and Diablo didn’t look much better.

But they were fighting. They were giving everything they had for a hope, for a future where they wouldn’t have to live in fear. They were risking their lives against incredible odds, risking everything.

And Lance would be damned if he let them do it alone.

“Keith. Listen to me. You have to wake up.” Lance kept his voice level, despite the searing agony tearing through his mind. God, how had Keith done this for two hours?

He exhaled, slipping into the drift. He would pull Keith out of that memory if he had to drag him.

Suddenly, he stood in Ebony Titan’s co*ckpit. Red warning lights flashed, sparks flying from the control boards.

Shiro’s disembodied voice echoed through the co*ckpit, screaming his final words over and over again.

Keith, listen. Keith, listen. Keith, listen. You need to-you need to-you need to-

A muffled sob came from the huddled figure in the center of the co*ckpit. From Keith.

Lance stepped forward, feeling the horrible, crushing weight of the neural interface fade away as he stepped deeper into the drift, leaving their damaged Jaeger behind.

He had to be careful; if he went too far, he, too, would disconnect like Keith had. And he didn’t want to know what would happen to the Jaeger-and them inside-if that happened.

He rested a hand on Keith’s shoulder, and the other looked up. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his hands shaking as they wrapped around himself.

“Keith, come on. We’ve got a fight to win.”

“Lance, what-how are you here?” Keith’s voice was hoarse, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“You kinda left me to carry the drift, man,” Lance sighed. “Come on. I need your help.”

Shiro’s voice echoed around the co*ckpit again, and Keith flinched.

“Don’t listen to him, listen to me.” Lance knelt, meeting Keith’s eyes. “The others are out there. They’re fighting. We can’t let them fight alone.”

Keith swallowed, his hands rising to grip Lance’s wrists like a lifeline.

“This is our last chance to give those bastards what’s coming to them,” Lance reminded him. “Let’s give them what they deserve. What do you say?”

FIre sparked in Keith’s eyes, recognition, remembrance, fury.

“Let’s finish this,” he snarled, and Ebony Titan’s co*ckpit melted away.

Lance gasped as the drift flooded back in, a blur of memories and emotions and sensations that he couldn’t even name.

The crushing weight on his body and mind lifted, spreading out between the two pilots once again.

Vortex struggled to its feet, the two pilots inside working as one.

“Amethyst Vortex!” Hunk cried through comms. “Your drift is reforming!”

“We had some…technical difficulties,” Lance rasped. “But we’re-

“-back into the fight,” Keith finished seamlessly.

“It is so weird when you guys do that,” Hunk muttered under his breath.

“Rangers! Your other Jaegers need you!” Coran ordered. “Get back in there!”

“Yes, sir!”

Amethyst ran forward, churning the water with its footsteps.

I hope there’s something around here I can use, Keith thought as they approached Vulcan and the screeching Kaiju. I don’t have an arm.

Hunk said there were upgrades, Lance responded. Look for one!

He ran forward, smashing their fist into the Kaiju’s head. It still hurt, moving around; his body was still suffering from the effects of the full neural load. But he couldn’t stop and rest; not until the fight was over.

“Vulcan!” Keith yelled into the comms. “Keep it distracted! We’ll bring it down!”

“On it!” Pidge and Matt chorused at the same time, their voices overlapping each other.

Lance grinned, feeling exactly what Keith was thinking. “I am so giving Hunk a giant hug when we get back.

Keith slammed his fist down onto the button, and there was a ringing of metal as a chain sword formed in Vortex’s only remaining hand.

They moved as one, yelling as the sword drove deep into the Kaiju’s skull.

The monster shrieked, thrashing as it died.

“Now get to the Breach!” Lance yelled, pulling the sword from the Kaiju’s head with an awful sucking sound. “Finish this!”

Vulcan didn’t wait around to respond; they charged forward, barreling through the water faster than any other Jaeger could go.

There was a shriek of metal as the fast Kaiju tore into Onyx Diablo. The mingling screams of Griffin and Leifsdottir echoed through the comms; the Kaiju crushed the co*ckpit between his massive jaws, and the screams cut off.

Kinkade screamed in rage, bowling the Kaiju over with a solid hit from Serpent Brawler’s massive fist. The beast shrieked and swam away, heading for Duke Vulcan as they neared the glowing orange rift that was the Breach.

Keith straightened, and Lance followed up on his thought, raising the arm with the sword as the Kaiju blurred past them.

They grunted as the monster slammed full-force into their sword, cleaving the Kaiju cleanly in half.

“Let’s go!” Rizavi yelled as Serpent Brawler barreled past. “Vulcan needs our help!”

Lance straightened from where he had been sagging against the wall of the co*ckpit. He was in so much pain, at this point he was running on pure adrenaline.

Vortex whirled, stumbling as they moved with their injured leg.

“Are you okay?” Keith gasped, glancing to the side. Lance looked pale and haggard, with blood smeared across his face. He could feel through the drift that Lance was very much not okay, but they couldn’t exactly do anything about it.

Guilt swirled in his gut; he’d been the one who forced the neural load onto Lance. He’d gotten lost in memories from the drift-a mistake that only rookies made. Not full-fledged pilots. Not Keith Kogane, former pilot of Ebony Titan.

Except he did. The memories of Shiro’s death, combined with the all-too familiar agony of losing his Jaeger arm, had thrown him deep into the drift.

And Lance had paid the price. He was still paying the price; until they got him medical attention, his body and mind would be tearing apart at the seams from the strain.

They had to finish this quickly.

Ahead, a third Kaiju had emerged, throwing Duke Vulcan around. Serpent Brawler arrived, slamming into the Kaiju to send it careening away through the water.

Lance yelled as they came in, brandishing their sword with their only remaining arm. The three Jaegers weaved around, dodging attacks and cutting in with their own.

“We’ll handle this!” Kinkade shouted. “Get the charges to the Breach! Now!”

Vulcan turned away, clamping down on one of the Kaiju halves that was still streaming blood. They ran for the Breach, dragging the carcass behind them; the Breach only let Kaiju DNA inside, so they would have to shove the bomb into the dead Kaiju to send it into the Breach to detonate.

Lance and Keith ducked beneath the Kaiju’s flailing tail; the monster fell back with a shriek as Serpent Brawler’s missiles detonated against its chest. Amethyst Vortex rose, swinging their sword in an arc. It sliced deep into the Kaiju’s thick skin, piercing into its organs.

It fell on top of them, and they screamed as they were crushed beneath the weight.

“Hang on!” Rizavi cried. “We’re working on it!” Serpent Brawler took hold of one end of the Kaiju carcass, dragging it off of them.

Keith and Lance staggered to their feet, just in time to see Duke Vulcan throw the Kaiju carcass-with the bomb inside-down into the Breach.

“Brace yourselves!” Pidge yelled, and all three Jaegers hunkered down, crossing arms in front of faces to protect the co*ckpits.

The explosion shook the ground, and Vortex staggered to keep its balance. When the tremors ended, they all straightened, glancing about warily.

“The Breach is dissolving!” Hunk shouted. “It’s a success!”

Cheering broke out on the other end, but the three Jaegers stood in silence. Processing.

Then Lance stumbled, falling to his knees. He swayed, raising a hand to steady himself against the control panel.

“Lance!” Keith cried, turning to him.

His copilot moaned, eyelids fluttering. Blood dripped from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Neural overload.

sh*t.

“Lance needs help!” Keith cried.

“Get up here!” Coran ordered. “We have medical teams on standby!”

“I don’t think we can,” Keith murmured, looking at his copilot. “The neural load is too much for him, and I can’t carry it on my own.” He’d gotten lucky the first time; if he shouldered the load again, he would die instantly.

Lance didn’t deserve to go through the absolute hell of losing a copilot.

Keith couldn’t do that to him.

“We’ve got you!” Kinkade said, clamping down on Amethyst Vortex’s shoulders. “Keep your copilot alive. We’ll get you to the top.”

“Beginning end sequence for Vortex,” Hunk reported. “We’re shutting you two down.”

Keith gasped as the drift abruptly ended; all at once, his senses faded. He wasn’t Amethyst Vortex anymore; now he was just Keith Kogane.

And his copilot was dying.

Keith disconnected himself from the control panel, running to Lance’s side. He gently unclipped him and pulled him into his arms.

“Lance, can you hear me?”

Lance’s eyelids fluttered, and he turned his head into Keith’s chest with a soft moan.

“Listen to my voice,” Keith murmured, holding him close. “Stay with me. Just hang in there, okay?”

He kept cradling him in his arms, kept murmuring to him. When the Jaegers surfaced, there were helicopters waiting to take the wounded pilots straight to the Shatterdome.

Keith didn’t remember climbing into the helicopter, or relinquishing his hold on Lance so the medics could take him. All he remembered was watching the sun brush against the curling ocean waves, casting orange beams of light across the sky as it set.

And then he closed his eyes and didn’t remember anything else.

He woke slowly, his senses returning one by one. He was laying in a bed. Not his own; the sheets were too scratchy.

Bandages were wrapped around his head, his arm, his chest.

The heart monitor beeped gently as he breathed.

And a warm hand was holding his.

Lance opened his eyes, blinking in the harsh light. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of bright lights; the hand squeezed around his.

“Lance?”

He forced his eyes open, squinting against the light. Keith was sitting at his side, tears clustered in his eyes.

“G’morning,” Lance grumbled, squeezing his hand back.

Keith chuckled, pulling Lance into a gentle hug. “Really? That’s what you say?”

“Hey, you knew what you were getting into,” Lance replied, hugging him back.

They stayed like that for some time; Keith buried his face in Lance’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. Finally, Lance broke the silence.

“So…what happened? Did we-”

“We won,” Keith whispered, hugging him tighter. “We did it.”

Lance exhaled, the weight of the world leaving him in one huge breath. “Holy sh*t. And…Onyx Diablo?”

Keith pulled back and shook his head, eyes downcast. They’d sent crews down to the fallen Jaeger right away, searching for survivors. James Griffin and Ina Leifsdottir had both given their lives to save the world. They were heroes.

Just like Shiro.

Lance nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. He’d known those two for years. They’d trained together, eaten in the cafeteria together, fought countless battles side-by-side.

And now they were gone.

“What about the others? Are they…?”

“Pidge, Matt, Rizavi, and Kinkade? Yeah, everyone’s okay. We’ve been worried about you.”

“What happened to me, though? I mean…how long has it been?”

“A little over three weeks,” Keith answered, squeezing both of Lance’s hands. “You…you were piloting alone for almost an hour, Lance.”

He froze. “I…I was? It only felt like a few minutes.”

Keith shook his head. “It nearly killed you. You’ve been in a coma for weeks.”

Lance nodded, unconsciously squeezing Keith’s hands back. “Huh.”

Keith snorted, leaning into Lance’s shoulder. “I dropped a bomb like that, and all you say is ‘huh?’”

Lance shrugged, leaning into Keith. “You love me like that.”

Keith hummed, wrapping an arm around Lance’s waist and leaning on his shoulder. “Yeah, I do.”

Chapter 22: AUTHOR'S NOTE

Chapter Text

Hey guys!! As you can see, we are at the end of Klance AU Month! I've had a lot of fun, but I'm happy to be back into my regular update schedule with my WIPs!! That being said, I have missed quite a few aus over the course of this month, and so I will continue to post them here as I complete them. The updates will likely be irregular, as I will only be writing these aus in between chapter updates for my fics. Still, stay tuned!!

(I will also be beginning a series of oneshots following the Spider-Fam's adventures, so stay tuned for that as well!!)

-Lizzie <3