Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

There was an earthquake.
There was an avalanche of change.
We were so afraid,
We cried ourselves a hurricane.
There were floods,
And tidal waves over us,
We folded our hands and prayed.
Like a domino,
These wildfires grow and grow
Until a brand new world takes shape.
Earth, Sleeping At Last

--

It's nighttime on Earth. When they finally get there, Lance can see the stars, the constellations he used to lie on the roof and point at for hours at a time, he can see the ocean again, he can smell it, saltwater and the haze of wet sand, the grass beneath his feet, Lance's house rising up behind them like a church, a shelter for the needy, the miserable. Lance is torn between it and the sea before him, the dark waves cresting under a navy sky, a blanket sparkling with stars.

"What a beautiful place," Coran murmurs, his voice instilled with awe, with wonder. Lance takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, lets the essence of his home seep into him, the scent of it, the taste, just-there spices and herbs drifting out the open window, leftovers of tonight's dinner, perhaps, the music playing from another open window, a radio, a heavy beat from deep within the city. All this takes Lance and lifts him out of the pit he was in, ascends him from his grave and fills it with clouds and stars and feathers from angels' wings. Lance is alive, and he's home. He almost killed himself, but now he's home.

He's home.

He turns on his heel, hurries round Pidge's invisible pod sitting in his backgarden, and knocks furiously at the backdoor of his home. It's unlocked, but he wants to wait; he still isn't sure how to explain himself, or his friends, or the new marks on his wrist, the other scars across his chest, burn marks on his shoulders, but- but that doesn't matter. What matters is that Lance is alive; what matters is that he's home.

His heart is tripping over itself, racing so fast he can barely keep up, he has to take deep, gulping breath as he awaits someone to answer the door, fingers trembling. The warmth in the air embraces him, the rush of sea salt soothes him, but it is nothing in the face of seeing his mamá open that bright yellow door with a smile on her face only see it drop off into shock.

They stare at each other for a full minute. She looks- different- shorter, somehow, her brown hair streaked through a little with grey, more lines round her eyes, her lips. She looks so tired, like a statue that once stood proud has now been chipped away by the elements, by the harsh passage of time. Her big brown eyes fill with tears, her lips open and quiver and she says, "Leandro?"

"Hi, mamá," he says, and the tears in her eyes overflow and begin to stream down her face, she grabs him by his waist and squeezes him tight, and he hides his face in her hair, breathes in the coconut oil she uses on it and her old perfume, the scent of just being his mom, and before he knows it, he's crying too. He can't breathe right- too choppy, and his shoulders quake, but he winds his arms round her and holds her back just as tight.

"Leandro," she whispers, pulling back only to cup his face in her warm, withered hands, and, in Spanish, continues, "Leandro, my son Leandro, where did you- where did you go? My son- my son is alive. Leandro. You're alive."

In Spanish, he replies, "Yes, mamá - I was alive the whole time. I didn't mean to leave- I-I'm sorry, mamá, I'm so sorry-" He can't continue, overwhelmed with tears again, and she lets him hold her tight, cradles his head in her hand, brushes through his hair.

"Mamá?" comes another voice. "Who's at the door? Is that-"

Lance looks up. It's his sister, Lillynn, looking like she's seen a ghost. She drops her phone and shrieks, "Lance?" which then, of course, unleashes a cacophony of sound. His name bounces through the whole house, different voices saying Lance, is that Lance? Is Lance here? Is Lance still alive? Lance?! and feet thumping against the ground, down stairs, out to where Lance and his mamá still stand at the entryway of their house.

"Lance, you piece of shit!" yells Isa, launching herself at him and pulling at his hair as she drags him into a hug. "I was so worried about you- what the fuck-"

"Language!" admonishes his papá, eyes overflowing with tears, but he puts a hand on his wife and another on Lance and guides them inside. "Come in, son, Leandro..." He takes a deep breath, shaking his head and smiling. "My wonderful son. Come in, come in... Are these friends?"

"Right," Lance says, but he can't introduce them over the chaos of his siblings demanding what the hell happened, saying his name, his mamá still crooning Leandro, his grandparents shuffling in, dressing gown and slippers, and stopping short at the sight of him.

"Enough," rumbles his papá, and when everyone ignores him, he only chuckles, lifting his glasses to wipe at his eyes.

"Enough!" calls his mamá, letting go only to keep an arm round his waist, guiding him inside. "Enough chatter! At the dining table, now. Leandro, you must tell us what happened. Who are these people? Where did you go? My son... I have prayed every day for you to return." She uplifts her head and presses a hand to her chest. "He finally listened."

"Yes, mamá," Lance replies quietly, glancing back at his friends only to see their near-matching expressions of confusion. Hunk slightly less so, and a little more teary-eyed, but they're speaking a lot of Spanish Hunk never picked up on during his visit. "Yes, let's sit."

He can't let go of her. When she sits at the round table in their dining room, he stands by her, a hand on her shoulder. His siblings aren't patient; they keep bubbling up with questions, where was he, is he okay, did he get taller, what's with the weird scar on your face...and Lance doesn't know how to start speaking.

"Quiet," his papá finally says, loud enough that all siblings, even thirty-two year old Solana, even ever-mouthy Isa, all quiet down. "My son. What... Please explain."

"Let me- let me do introductions," Lance says. "This is- you know Hunk."

"Hunk!" says Isa, and Diego claps his hands together, grinning.

"H-hello," Hunk says, a little hesitant. "Er, good- good evening, sir." He bows his head at Lance's papá, and Lance rolls his eyes.

"You don't have to call him that," he says, and Hunk only frowns. Lance blinks, then repeats himself in English, and Hunk just shrugs.

"It's been ages since I was here!" he whispers back. "I don't remember how to say what time is it let alone hi I'm sorry we all disappeared for ages what's up though."

Lance laughs, shakes his head. "Okay, okay, move along," he says, and grabs Pidge. To his family, he says, "This is Pidge. They visited with Hunk, remember?"

More nodding. Lance's nephew, Alonso, who sits in Solana's lap says, "Pidge, Pidge! Pokemon Pidge!"

"Right," says Pidge dryly. "I'm Pokemon Pidge."

Keith is trying to hide his snort in his ugly gloves. Lance snaps his fingers at him, and Keith steps forward, his smile dropping a little and turning awkward as he looks at Lance's family. "This is Keith," Lance says. "He was at the garrison, best fighter pilot of the year. He was- I got into fighter class because he dropped out, remember I told you?"

His mamá rubs his hand. "Yes, baby," she says. "I remember."

"Well, I know I said we were enemies back then, but now we're like...friends. Turns out he's a decent guy after all."

"Is that all he is?" asks Isa, and all his useless siblings start cackling at the pink on his cheeks.

"What?" Keith asks, turned agitated eyes on Lance. "What did they say?"

"Nothing about you," Lance hurries to say. "That's Shiro, he was the guy who went missing on the Kerberos mission. Best pilot ever. Then there's- uh. They're- hm. That's Princess Allura of Altea, and her royal adviser, Coran." The bouncy energy that had filled the room till that point goes still. "Yeah, I know. It's gonna take me a while to explain..."

"We have time, Leandro," his mamá says softly. "All the time in the world for you. Don't we?"

"Yes, dear," says his papá. "Take however long you need."

"Thanks," he says, and smiles. Turning to his friends, he starts pointing. "That's my mamá, her name is Sophia, I love her a lot. My papá, Alejandro, I'm named after him. My oldest sister, Solana, and her kids, Daniela and Alonso. My biggest brother, Diego, him and Hunk are pals. Middle sister Lilynn, she writes poetry in her spare time. Younger older brother Alberto, he's a nerd. Youngest older sister, Isa, she's an asshole and I hate her."

"Fuck you," replies Isa in English, and Lance grins.

"My grandparents, obviously, Montez and Agathe!"

"Wow," says Shiro.

"...That's a lot of names," Keith says.

"How wonderful!" says Coran, and Lance grins. "I must know more!"

"In time, Coran," Lance says. To his family, he says, "This really will take a long time, though."

"Let me put the babies to bed," says Solana, rising with a child in each arm, and Lance goes to meet her, takes baby Daniela - not quite a baby anymore - in his arms, starts whispering to her and poking her face while she giggles.

"Some tea!" says his mamá. "Too late for coffee, but I have tea, we have juice, we have- Isa, get our guests some drinks. Your English is better than ours."

"Yes, mamá," says Isa, rising diligently.

"If we are going to sit here for some hours, I'd like some music. Diego, will you play us something?"

"For hours, mamá?"

"Either that, or you will make our guests some dinner!"

Diego hesitates, then looks at Hunk and grins. In tender English, he says, "Hunk, shall we make dinner?"

And Hunk beams. "Hell yeah, dude!" and the two of them bustle to the kitchen. Pidge goes to sit with Alberto, who cracks a small smile, and everyone else flounders.

"Go sit by my grandparents," Lance says to Shiro and Keith. "Their English isn't very good but they're nice. Allura, Coran, just...check out the house, I guess."

"It's fascinating!" enthuses Coran, his eyes wide and awash with wonder. "Why, I don't even know what half these things are! And what on Altea were you saying? Is that another language? Does Earth have multiple languages?"

"Yup! Tons! I was speaking Spanish! It's spoken in loads of places - most Latin American countries, and obviously Spain, it's pretty well known!"

"Amazing!" says Coran, grinning around and beginning to investigate the room. Allura does the same, trailing her hands over photos on the walls and the sunburst clock on the wall, eyes wide, mouth a faint smile.

"I'll be right back," Lance says to his friends at large. "Gonna put the baby to bed." He pokes Daniela's cheeks again, grinning, and follows Solana upstairs and along the corridor to the nursery. "They're so big," he says to his oldest sister, cradling Daniela in his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "How old is she?"

"Nearly five," Solana says quietly, thumbing through Alonso's hair. "Lance, you were gonna a year and a half."

"I- what? Was I really?"

She nods solemnly. "You didn't know?"

"It's... I'll explain later, but I didn't really have a way of keeping time while I was gone."

Her eyes widen. "You weren't taken, were you?"

"No, no! Sort of...but no. It's a crazy story. The babies need to sleep."

"Yes they do," she says softly. She's the exact picture of his mamá when she was this young, a soft, warm body, and luscious brown hair falling down her back in curls. Freckles across her cheeks, brown eyes that are at once soft and concerned. "Soccer tomorrow, you know?"

He nods, and turns to the cot- only to realise there isn't one. Daniela is obviously too big. Solana moves to the bed on the left, so Lance goes to the right, peeling back the blanket and laying Daniela down, already dressed in her pyjamas. Solana must have been putting them to sleep when she heard Lance come in.

"Missed you, Lancey," Daniela murmurs as Lance draws the blanket over her. "Gone really long."

"I'm sorry, baby," Lance whispers to her, crouching down beside her and pressing more kisses to her head. "I didn't mean to be gone so long."

"S'okay," she says, yawning. "Back now."

Lance gulps down the words not for long and instead cracks a smile. "Yes, baby," he says. "Back for now."

He waits until her eyes close and her breathing calms, and when he stands, Solana is watching him.

"Back for now," she repeats quietly, turning off the lights so only the stars on the ceiling glow, and closing the door quietly. "You will leave again."

"I'll explain," he says desperately. "I'm sorry, Sol."

"It's not me you'll have to apologise to," she says, and they stand just outside the entry to the kitchen, where their mamá is bustling around, fixing drinks with Isa, manoeuvring round Hunk and Diego with ease. "Oh, Lance," Solana says, her eyes wet. "Oh, I've missed you!"

It is so strange, for her to embrace him and cry into his shoulder and just- believe it. Believe his family missed him, because of course they did. There's not a world where they wouldn't miss him, because they love him, and he loves them, and being torn from them was like part of himself. He'd go to talk to them like a phantom limb only to realise they weren't there. He'd dream of them. He'd shut his eyes when eating space goo and pretend extra hard that it was just his mamá's ropa vieja as if they were at all alike.

And how long has it been? It can't have been more than twelve hours since Lance sat in the airlock and tried to kill himself.

He just needed to come home.

"I missed you too, Sol," he murmurs back. "So much. I thought I'd die without you all. I thought I'd die and- you'd never know what had happened to me. Thought I'd die and they'd have to bring you my body."

"My god, Lance, what the hell have you been doing?" she asks, but he only shrugs, and steps into the kitchen.

"Lance, can you go ask ginger over there what he wants? He keeps saying nunvil as if I have any idea what that is," Isa says, whizzing past him with three empty glasses stacked in both hands. "Also, that princess is cute. Is she single?"

"Oh my god, Isa," Lance says, glancing over at Allura in her beautiful gown, leaning in to gaze at the painting of the Virgin Mary that hangs over their dinner table. "Can you not? She's a princess."

"Like a pillow princess, or...?"

She grins as Lance bats at her, scandalised, dodging only so she doesn't drop the glasses.

Lance shakes his head, goes to Coran and asks what he wants, and after explaining nunvil doesn't exist on Earth, he gets a very excited anything!, which he relays to Isa with a shrug.

In the end, it takes a good half-hour before they're all sat down again with drinks and the stew Hunk and Diego cooked up, and Diego's put on the ancient record player so that the songs of his youth leak out into the open air, and they had to nab some chairs from the living room so everyone could sit down, but looking round at this table, packed full of the only people Lance cares about, he is so overwhelmed with love that nothing else matters.

"Leandro," his mamá says. "Please, explain."

So he explains. It's...hard. He keeps having to switch between English and Spanish so that he can ask Allura and Coran something about what happened, then translate it back into Spanish, and sometimes the right words don't exist, and Hunk, though he tries, can't really explain getting abducted by aliens when most of his Spanish revolves around going surfing. His family definitely don't believe him for a while, but he points at random scars he got, takes off his jacket and shucks off his shirt to show the scorch marks he got saving Coran, random scars from the fights, and hassles Pidge for their phone to show his family the selfies he took with alien races.

That makes it a lot harder for them to not believe.

"So," Lillynn says, frowning over the table at him, "if everything was going well in this- this war against the gal- the galra, then why come home?"

"I missed you?" Lance tries, and though his papá smiles, his mamá just raises her brows at him. "Uh, well...we disappeared with what we had- Pidge had their headphones and phone, and I just had my clothes, same as Hunk, so...it's not like I had my meds out there."

"Oh, Leandro," his mamá says, catching on instantly, eyes widening. "My baby, did you- did you-"

Wordlessly, he pulls the sleeves of his shirt up, and closes his eyes as he bares his marred wrists to his family. Stillness overtakes the room; Lance winces as most of his family take in deep, sharp gasps. A warm hand trails the right scar. Someone start sniffling.

"Leandro," his mamá says, and Lance cannot look, not with that voice, all broken up into splinters over what Lance has done. "My baby, Leandro- what- why-"

"I'm sorry, mamá," he says, words spilling out like water overflowing a glass. "I'm sorry- I just- everyone had a thing and I didn't- no one- no one cared that I was the sharpshooter, a-and I wasn't even that good a pilot, a-and- I just- everything was falling to pieces and I didn't know what to do! I thought I'd never see you again! I thought I- I had to do it. I-I didn't want to be a burden."

"My son," his mamá says, and yes, when he opens his eyes she is crying again, all those lines on her face so heavy to look at, weighed down with age and exhaustion, but - she smiles at him, a small close-lipped thing, and draws him to her. "My darling son, my Leandro. You are not a burden. You never have been. It sounds to me like you were as integral to that team as the rest of them. You think you joked too much? In the face a war, Leandro, perhaps joking is just what people need. And how can you say you are not a good pilot, when you got into that garrison? And you say you are a sharpshooter now. Something none of the others can do. My beautiful son," she says, and sniffs, voice breaking, "my darling baby, so talented. So wonderful. We all get lost, sometimes. I am so glad your friends saved you."

Lance can only sob into her chest and pray his friends don't find it pathetic. He's not sure they can judge, considering they all - minus Coran, bless him - dogpiled onto Hunk's mattress and slept for a good four hours together, but it's a little different with his family. At least he's not the only one crying - he can hear Isa scrabble for tissues, and Diego's low murmur to Lillynn, quieting her sobs.

"It was only last night," Lance mumbles. "Can't have been more than twelve hours ago. I- it's so stupid. There was a party on the ship for a planet I hadn't helped save, a-and I couldn't- I got drunk and sat in the airlock. I'd been thinking about shooting myself out of it for a while. And Keith came and found me. And I told him what I was planning on doing, and- he tried to talk sense into me, but...I was too drunk. I broke the bottle and tried to- well- I did-"

He takes a deep shuddering breath as his papá makes a low, guttural sound. When Lance chances a peek, his father is doubled over the table, a hand over his eyes. Alberto has his head on his shoulder, rubbing a hand on his back.

"But the castle has healing pods. Apparently it only took a few hours to heal...and then I...explained everything. To the others, and...we, we tried to go to sleep- I went with Hunk, but the others went alone... But eventually everyone but Coran came to Hunk's room to sleep with us. And Coran plotted the track here, so." He shrugs, and sits up fully, his mamá keeping her arm tight on his waist.

"If I didn't miss you so much," his mamá says, voice a little strained, "then I would give you a severe talking to about taking your life in your own hands, baby."

"I know, mamá," Lance replies quietly. "I know it was stupid."

"You are lucky we have all your things from the garrison back. Meds included. You're starting them tomorrow, baby."

"Yes, mamá."

"How long are you here? I can call up the family doctor-"

"Not long, mamá." At this, another sharp intake of breath. "I- it's not like we can quit being defenders of the galaxy, right? And besides, what would I tell the doctor? I gave my magic robot lion up to a princess from a dead planet and ended up so suicidal the only option was to come home to Earth?"

His mamá sighs. "Are there psychiatrists in space, Leandro?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Uh- Shiro said he had a psychiatrist for a while, so he could sort of help, but... I mean, I know it's not a substitution."

"...Well, I can't stop you, baby. Will you stay a few days? The babies have soccer tomorrow for school, and on Sunday we can go to Mass- take down those posters of you..."

Lance nods for a moment, then pauses. "I don't... I don't know. What did the garrison tell you? Did they try to cover it up? If people see us- all of us... If you take the posters down, they might...figure out you know something. I don't- I'm not sure that's wise."

"...At least come to Mass, baby. Wear a cap, put on make up, whatever works, just...please, baby. Please, Leandro," she says, moving so her hands hold tight to his, and Lance finds himself nodding.

"Till Sunday," he says, and she smiles.

Then she turns to his friends, and in very careful English she says, "Thank you for taking care of my son. He does struggle a lot. And it is difficult to help someone who does not ask for help, no, Leandro?"

"Mamá," he groans.

"But it seems you are good to him. And he cares for you a lot. And he is my baby boy, and I will not lose another baby boy." She takes a stiff breath. "Not my Leandro. You make sure he takes his meds. He needs them daily. He forgets sometimes. With food and drink. He is a good liar, you must keep asking if he is okay. You will know when he is happy, because he is radiant like sun."

"Mamá!" he repeats, unable to hold back a smile. She glances at him, smiling also, her features warm and lit by her own inner sun.

"You will take callandar," she continues. "And on Sundays, when you bow to our Lord, you will be praying with us. Even in a different system. On a different world. You will be with us always."

Lance is tearing up again. He hides his eyes in his hands, but he hears Hunk say, "Thank you, Sophia. We're sorry we didn't realise things had gotten so bad - we all promise to look out for him a lot more."

"Good boy," says his mamá. "You were always so good to my baby."

In Spanish, Lance mumbles, "Mamá, can you please stop calling me baby in front of my friends."

"Why?" she asks. "Scared of embarrassing yourself? Who is it, the princess? Or is it the red boy?"

"Wh- mamá!" he says, distressed, and across the table, Isa is gutting herself laughing, while Alberto peers over at Keith and gives Lance a subtle thumbs up. "The princess doesn't like me like that."

"So the red boy?" she muses. "I see. I'll talk to him, baby."

"As will I," says his papá, and Lance groans again. "Just a casual chat between father and potential son-in-law."

"Please stop," says Lance. "We need to figure out where to put everyone. Hunk is rooming with me."

"No way!" says Diego. "Hunk's with me!"

Lance narrows his eyes for a moment, but Diego raises a single brow, and Lance nods. "Fine. Pidge can go with Lillynn? Allura with Isa?"

"Hell yeah," says Isa, who winks at Allura. Allura, shockingly, just blinks and turns a delicate pink. "Nailed it."

"Don't brag," Lance mutters.

"Shiro can stay with Alberto, then," says his mamá. "What about the ginger man?"

"His name's Coran," Lance sighs. "Put him on the sofa bed. He'll love it."

"Alright, baby. And Keith, with you?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Yes, mamá."

She just grins knowingly. "You show everyone their rooms and start making beds; the rest of you, I want this table clear and the dishes cleaned in fifteen minutes! Isa, get the glasses, Alberto, the dishes. Diego, you can help Lance. Mamá, Papá, you just go back to bed. Solana, dear..." And on his mamá goes, back in her natural element of softly touching arms and asking her children to clean up, sending half of them running for spare sheets and blankets and the other half turning on the tap in the kitchen and readying the dish towels. Lance hastily repeats the general plan to his friends in English, and Coran looks beyond ecstatic about the concept of a sofa-bed, and Hunk raises a brow when Lance says Keith will stay with him but says no more.

Within the hour, everything is sorted, and the house is relatively calm. It had been- painful to step in his room, and see his things stuffed in boxes shipped over from the garrison, maybe rifled through briefly, but untouched. He and Keith ended up sifting through some of it, Lance emptying out all the boxes before filling one with things he'll take on the castleship. He takes his star charts, his posters of Star Trek, his rosary, and packs them all away. Goes through his wardrobe and picks out some stuff, then lets Keith have a look through for things he doesn't mind having. He takes some sports gear, no surprise there, and some old jackets that Lance didn't really wear anymore. Keith hadn't said anything much, just thanked him with pink cheeks, and packed them in the box, as well.

As Lance readies Keith's bed on the dusty ground next to Lance's bed, Keith ends up looking at a corkboard above Lance's desk of photos. Eyes wide, he trails a hand over them, and there are so many, sometimes smiling, laughing, before he looks over at Lance and clearly finds some tragic difference about current him and the him residing in those photos.

Lance tries not to look. In the morning, maybe, he'll sort through those photos and decide which to take and which to leave for his family. For now, the thought hurts too much, he doesn't want to see whatever difference Keith sees, so he makes Keith's bed, stuffs pillows into covers and drapes a blanket over the mattress as appealingly as possible.

"You can just borrow a t-shirt to sleep in or whatever," Lance says, rifling through his wardrobe till he finds some flannel pyjama trousers and a plain white t-shirt. "Everyone else will be borrowing, and we're mostly the same size."

Mostly. Lance doesn't look over when Keith changes - barely - but when he looks over and sees Keith standing in his boxers and one of Lance's t-shirts, his heart sort of jolts at the way the t-shirt still hangs a little on Keith's frame, just a little long, just a little big.

God, he looks good.

God, that is so unimportant right now. Without words, he closes the blinds, shuts off the lights, and settles into bed. He has the same glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling as the kids do. Lance is surprised they still work.

It's quiet for a moment; Lance lies on his back, stares up at those stars, and almost starts when Keith speaks: "Lance," he says quietly, "I wanted to...talk to you."

Of course he does. And Lance wants to talk to him too, he does - but he's tired. So tired, in fact, he has to yawn before replying: "Me too. But in the morning, yeah?"

A moment, then, "Yeah. Goodnight."

"Night, Keith."

And they sleep.

--

Lance awakens to someone calling his name. Not loudly, but intensely, repeatedly, gasping it out - and when he looks down, Keith is twined up in the covers, white-faced, sweat on his temples. He's crying, Lance realises, saying Lance, wake up, Lance, please, don't, stop, Lance, and suddenly Lance thinks maybe they should've talked last night.

Slipping onto his knees beside Keith, he says, "It's okay, Keith. I'm fine. I'm right here."

"Lance, Lance-" And his eyes open, wide and watery, and Keith hooks his hands in Lance's t-shirt, takes great, shuddering breaths. "Lance," he says, "you're alive. You're- I was dreaming- I saw- fuck." His eyes squeeze tight, tears running down the sides of his face, and Lance just frowns, lays a gentle hand on Keith's shoulder.

"Yeah, buddy," he says, trying to sound comforting and kind, as opposed to guilt-ridden as fuck for causing Keith to have nightmares. "I'm still here."

It's only now, watching Keith release Lance's shirt only to hide his face with his hands as he sobs, does Lance realise the magnitude of what he did. He tried to kill himself, which, fine, not the first time - but the first time in front of someone. Maybe Hunk had to come talk him off that roof, maybe his niece wandered into the bathroom while he was slumped against the bath, but this was the first time someone had been there the whole time, beginning a conversation with no idea whatsoever of how it would end.

Lance did that to Keith. Lance dropped that bomb on him and Keith tried to stop him and Lance thought I don't care anyway. Not even if it was Keith. And now Keith has to live with that, night after night, reliving Lance, drunk and depressed, breaking a bottle so he could slash his own arm. Unable to stop Lance. Unable to reach him. Maybe he tried to put pressure on the wounds, maybe he put his palm on Lance's face out of shock, maybe he cried the whole time as he yelled for help. Lance doesn't know. All he knows is Keith had a nightmare about it and he was really upset and it makes him cry so easily, when Lance isn't sure he's seen him cry before ever.

"I'm sorry, dude," Lance says. "I shouldn't have done that in front of you."

"Why?" Keith demands, scrubbing at his face and sitting up, turning to Lance with narrowed eyes. "So you could do it alone? Where no one would find you? So you could just be dead?"

Lance bites the edge of his lips, brows pinched. "Yeah," he says. "I guess that was the ideal situation." This doesn't help; Keith just goes tense, stares at him, hands fisted in the blanket in his lap. "I thought it wouldn't bother anyone. You- especially you. I mean, I knew Hunk would be upset, and Coran, but...I figured it was for the best. It's not like it was a spur of the moment thing, you know. I thought about it for ages. It just- made sense. I wasn't helping anymore. I was making things awkward. I couldn't sleep at night. And- and no one seemed to care. So I... I thought I'd just. Take myself off everyone's hands."

"...You're crazy," Keith murmurs, and Lance just shrugs. "And totally blind. How could you-"

"Up!" interrupts his mamá in Spanish, yelling from the second floor. "Everybody, up! Breakfast in an hour! Be quick!"

"Oh man," Lance says, getting to his feet immediately. "You need to go shower, now. Come on dude, we gotta hurry."

He grabs Keith by the arm and hauls him up, runs out his room and shoves Alberto back into his as he passes, hurries Keith into the bathroom and slams the door shut after him, grinning at his friends and family surrounding him.

"Dammit, Lance," says Alberto, hand on Shiro's shoulder. "I almost had it!"

"You're never gonna beat me, Berty," Lance replies, striking a pose against the bathroom door. "I'm the king of getting in the shower first!"

"Oh yeah?" says Isa, popping up along the hall with Allura at her side. "So you're gonna join your boyfriend now? That's a bit inappropriate for the morning, Lancey!"

Unable to form a sentence without stumbling over his words, Lance just raises his arm and points warningly at her as she cackles.

"Bagsy first floor bathroom," she says, grabbing Allura and speeding off down the stairs. Lance considers following, then eventually slides to the ground and sits cross-legged against the door as he waits for Keith to shower.

"I'm going in next," he warns Alberto, who just sighs and comes to sit next to him, Shiro following uncertainly. "Then Shiro."

"Yeah, alright," Alberto mutters. "Gone how long and you're still an asshole, huh, Lance?"

"You love me," Lance replies, and can't hold back a grin as Alberto rolls his eyes, smiling.

"Yeah, alright," Alberto says. "Course I do."

They knock their fists together and wait, rolling their eyes in tandem as Lillynn steps out her room, perfectly dressed in a knee-length pencil skirt and neatly-buttoned shirt, poking both her brothers in the chests with her bare feet as she smirks.

"Showered last evening," she says by way of explanation, reaching back to take Pidge's hand, who burns bright pink. They're too short to fit anyone's clothes, but they're wearing one of Isa's miniskirts that goes to their knees and a t-shirt tied into a knot at their midriff. Lance winks at them as they pass, but Pidge only raises a brow at Lance before raising their chin and carrying on after Lillynn.

"Yeah, good morning to you, too," he says in English to Pidge, but they just give him the finger without even looking at him, and he slumps back, presses a hand to his chest and pretends to brush a tear from his cheek until Pidge turns to go down the stairs and shoots him a smile. "Morning, Shiro," he adds, realising he hasn't addressed his friend at all.

"Hey, Lance," Shiro says, sounding relieved he knows what Lance is saying. "Sleep well?"

"Peachy," Lance replies. "You? You room alright with this asshole?"

Alberto, whose knowledge of English is limited but definitely aware that Lance has insulted him somehow, makes a face.

"Uh, yeah! Yeah, he was very kind to me. Your whole family is...lovely, Lance." Shiro smiles at him, all earnest shining out his eyes. "I can definitely see how you are the way you are surrounded by all these people. It must be nice, always having someone you could talk to."

"Oh, yeah," Lance says, smiling. "Even when they come in my room and steal all my shit when I'm out, or try to race me to the bathroom even when it's my birthright as the youngest child to get whatever I ask for."

Shiro laughs softly. "Is that so? I guess I wouldn't know."

"Only child?"

Shiro nods. "And I left my parents in Japan at like, thirteen, so." A shrug. "But this is nice. Your home, your parents...and all right next to the beach... I didn't realise you were an uncle."

"I never said?" Shiro shakes his head. "Yeah, dude! I became an uncle when I was twelve. There'll be pictures of me holding Alonso as a li'l baby. Mamá will probably show you them if you ask."

"I might," Shiro murmurs, just as the door falls out behind Lance and he almost crashes into Keith's leg.

"Sup," Lance says, jumping to his feet and pushing Keith out onto the landing. "See ya in ten, dude," he says, Keith frowning at him, before shutting the door and showering as speedily as possible. Everything is just how he remembers it. His products aren't there, so he just borrows Isa's, gives himself a proper hair wash, exfoliates, conditions, brushes his teeth and flosses and uses some mouth wash. Products still clutter the sink counter, there are still two different loofas hanging from the shower temperature dial, a ridiculous assortment of razors and hairwash and shower gel, hand soap on the sink and a lotion next to it, a cup of toothbrushes, the frosted window open just a little. It's dizzying, actually, to stand in this warm-coloured room and just- remember, fighting over the hairdryer with Isa, the both of them trying to coerce Alberto into having a proper skincare regimen, Lillynn, as always, ignoring their bullshit and keeping her own items organised into a square of space on the counter. It's still there.

When he leaves, he takes a moment to point and laugh at Alberto, sulking on the floor, and high five Isa as she and Allura come up the stairs, cloaked in dressing gowns with their hair up in towel turbans.

Getting dressed doesn't take long. Keith's back in his usual clothes when Lance comes in, but Lance bumps his hip to Keith's, rolls his eyes, points at all the clothes he hadn't packed away last night and says c'mon, man, so Keith ends up in a pair of slightly-long navy jeans and a blue Adidas shirt while Lance nabs a pair of blue of baggy jeans that are turned up at the ends, and a white t-shirt with a shark on it.

"I like sharks, dude," he says when Keith raises a brow. "They're badass, but they have hearts of gold."

"Right," Keith says. "Think I'll stick with hippos."

Breakfast is, of course, a loud, crowded affair. The kids are buzzing for their soccer matches, and Coran has figured out that Lillynn knows the most English, so he's overflowing with bizarre questions for her, and his grandparents, bless them, don't know the slightest English, so they politely listen to their guests, smiling benignly and relying on Lance or Isa to translate. They know Hunk and Pidge, of course, and keep insisting that Pidge, Lance, and Keith all need to keep eating well after they're all full.

"God," Pidge groans as they trawl back upstairs. "How could I forget that I'm not allowed to be full at your house. I always have to eat. Always!"

"Cause you're so skinny," Lance says, reaching round and tickling their stomach for all of two seconds before their elbow connects with his face. "Ow! Pidge!"

"If I'm skinny then you're a fucking skeleton, Lance Hernandez. And what's Keith's excuse?"

Lance shrugs. "He's a growing boy," he decides. "Sorry," he tosses behind his shoulder, where Keith's hands are wrapped round his stomach. "I forgot to say - my abuela is pretty insistent on making sure we all eat. A lot."

"S'okay," Keith groans. "I just need to lie down. Forever. And never get up."

"We're leaving in fifteen minutes, dude. And we're walking the whole way."

"I'm gonna die."

"Yeah," Lance says, a little overwhelmed himself. "I feel that."

They have to take certain precautions to hide their faces; Pidge and Keith especially are paranoid that the garrison will cause trouble if there's the slightest hint that they're all alive, so Isa gives Pidge a complete makeover and dresses them as feminine as possible; Hunk has to remove his orange headband and instead gets a wide-brimmed straw hat and massive sunglasses; Keith's shoved into one of Diego's enormous shirts and given a red snapback; Lance borrows a pair of Lillynn's old glasses and grabs his own blue snapback.

The shirt Diego gave Keith is a bright, sunny yellow, and Lance uses his recently-found phone to take a dozen awful photos of him in it. He then spends the entire day taking photos of everyone, including a team selfie with Allura dressed up like a normal teen girl in one of Isa's sundresses, and Coran in tighter-than-necessary jeans and an orange short-sleeved shirt, buttons open to halfway down his chest. His sim has run out, obviously, but before it gave out he received hundreds of messages and voicemails from friends and family alike; Lance glimpses I don't want to hold a funeral but... and immediately decides that desperately going through those messagers will be reserved for when he's back on the castleship, able to cry in private.

The soccer matches are fun. Daniela's is first, then Alonso's. His family, as usual, are way too invested; his parents leap to their face, shrieking about unfairness, a good ten times per match, and Lillynn gets as heated as she ever does, pointing fingers and getting nudged by her siblings every time she almost swears. Though he's pretty sure his friends forget which child is the Hernandez within about two minutes of each game, they get rightly invested; yell when the other team score, cheer when the right one gets a goal in, laugh at how red-cheeked Lillynn gets when she isn't allowed to let loose a stream of swears about a bad penalty. The walk back is cheery enough - the right team won each game - and the following lunch, eaten out in the garden, is relaxed, the conversation mostly flowing, Lance's friends huddled mostly around Isa, Lillynn, and Alberto, those who know the most English.

Then they go to the beach. Lance can't control his excitement as he bustles round his room, busting out a spare pair of swim trunks for Keith and taking more pics on his phone, grabbing his sunnies and fixing his snapback on, grabbing a t-shirt he can ditch at the towels and laughing when Keith asks for sun screen.

"Oh man," Lance babbles to his friends as they gather in the living room, dishing out sun screen to those who need it and counting beach towels. "You're gonna love it. It's the perfect time- the waves will be so good. It's gonna be wild. I'm gonna surf - can any of you surf? Hunk and I are gonna surf, and Isa will too, probably, and then I'm gonna swim for ages, I am not getting out of that water for three hours at least, you can honestly go back home whenever and just call me in for dinner, the water's so warm, it's like a hug-"

"We get it, Lance," Pidge says, though they're smiling as they smother themself in waterproof sun screen. "I'm staying on the sand. Under an umbrella. With lots of drinks. They still have that cute juice shack, like, twenty seconds along the beach, right?"

Lance shrugs, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Who cares? I'm gonna be swimming in the ocean again!" he says, a smile taking over his face as he says it, eyes closing without meaning to. "Oh, man. I've been dreaming about this for months."

"I'm very excited to see the beach properly!" Coran says, also applying sun screen just in case. "We have something a little like them, but the water was green and the waves went the opposite direction from the sand. But I'm sure your ocean is just as nice! And it probably makes it much easier to return to shore!"

"Oh, dude, it is so beyond awesome. I can't wait."

"Shall we?" says Allura, looking around as everyone seems to be ready. "I can't wait to go in the water!"

Lance nods earnestly, practically jumping off the ground as he opens the back door and they spill out into the garden, then further, to the gate, unlocking it and, unable to stop himself, running out onto the beach, old, dusty surfboard in one arm, reaching the other up towards the sky. It's nice and warm, the sand hot on his feat, and he starts yelling with joy, messy Spanglish that has the rest of his family laughing.

Hunk's right by his side, Diego's surfboard in hand, and they both check the sea before exchanging looks.

"First one off the wave is a loser," Lance says, tearing off his t-shirt and flinging it back behind him.

"Oh, you are on!" exclaims Hunk, ripping off Diego's shirt, readying his board in front of him. They hop in front of the waves for a few seconds, wrapping the thick black bracelets attached to their boards round the right ankle, then run into the water till they're waist-deep, then lie on the board and paddle. The water is warm, the salt heavy in the air, and all around them people are yelling, singing, chattering into a buzz. The sun is high and bright, the waves clear blue and green, the sand melting beneath his feet until it drops off into nothing, and then they start seeking out waves.

He calls out the first one they see, so Hunk paddles on, but Lance waits, aligns himself, and pops up just as the wave starts carrying through. Every movement, every turn, even the beat of the wave beneath him, is all so familiar, like he could rewind three years and he'd still be here in this exact position, that he just starts crying. Grinning, facing along the wave, dodging other swimmers and surfers, tears just pour down his face. Home. To think, he almost deprived himself of this. It doesn't matter that people can see the burn marks on his chest from saving Coran from that bomb; doesn't matter that they're not the only scars he's got, he's home and he's surfing and Hunk's on the wave right behind him, just like it used to be. His heart thumps in time to the waves; his skin shivers, then melts in the heat. As the wave crashes and Lance drops back onto his board, paddling back to shore, it feels sort of like fate, or destiny. He was always meant to return here, to home, to this sea, this moment. He just took a shortcut.

He runs up the beach, whoops at his family, who all laugh and maybe glance at the scars, Lance doesn't linger enough to tell, he spies Hunk wiping out beneath a wave and sprints back into the ocean, again, again, again.

When he emerges for the last time, he flops down on the wet sand, the sea brushing up against his legs before receding back, and before long, Hunk is there by his side, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as his feet start sinking.

"That was amazing," Hunk says, "but still not as good as Samoa."

Laugh just laughs, belly and soul, shutting his eyes and laying his head back against both his arms. "God," he says after a moment. "You're never going to give that up, huh."

"I think we should have, like, an Earth vacation every year. We came to Cuba this year; next time, we're visiting my family. Then we can show the others what proper surfing looks like."

"Bruh, these were good waves!"

"Bruh, there are better waves back home! They can get up to thirty feet! Cuba can't even dream."

"Ugh, I hate when you brag about Samoa."

"Just cause you can't win."

Lance rolls his eyes, knows Hunk is speaking the truth. The sand beneath him is beginning to sink, and Lance wants to sink with it, till it fills every pore and tiny worms and shells inhabit the world above him, the sea brushing over him, encasing him, keeping him home. The sun has moved a little more across the sky; everything is gold and blue and perfect. Lance never wants to leave this moment, Hunk at his side, breathing the same salty air.

"I think," Hunk says, sniffing a little, "I'm gonna video call my moms. See my sisters again. I need to- I can't come back to Earth and not contact them. What if they think I'm dead?"

"Hunk, the day they adopted you they covered your room in a thousand flowers and write you, like, a ten-page essay for your birthday about how they love you so much every year... There is no way they think you're dead. They've probably been calling up the garrison every god damn day demanding they tell them where you are."

When he glances over, Hunk is crying, but he's smiling, too. "You think?" he says, voice breaking a little.

"I know it, buddy. You should go ask Mamá about them - she'll definitely have spoken to them."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, dude. I'll come too. I'll translate."

"...No," Hunk says, still smiling as he turns his head so he can look back at Lance. "No, I'll get Isa to do it. Pidge and I will all talk about it. You can go swim with Keith. I hear Shiro doesn't know how. You should teach him."

"He- what?!" Lance demands, and jumps to his feet, grabbing his board as he goes. Hunk's laughter follows him as they jog back to their family's little area: at least three beach umbrellas set up, Pidge safely ensconced in the middle, reading a book, with his grandparents on one side and his parents on the other. Isa and Allura are stretched out in bikinis, soaking in the sun, and Diego, Solana, Lillynn, Coran, and the kids are playing some two-on-three volleyball down the beach. Alberto is sat cross-legged on a towel, doing crosswords, while Keith is all hunched up, gleaming with sun screen, while Shiro is sprawled out next to him.

"Hey, baby," his mamá says, and Lance nods as he strides up to Shiro and kicks his feet.

"Dude," he says, and Shiro blinks his eyes open. "You can't swim?"

"Oh no," Shiro groans. "No, Lance, let me sleep. I'm so old, Lance. I'm so old."

"You're twenty-six," Lance says. "Actually, you're six. You're six years old, Shiro, and you can't swim."

"Exactly. I'm a child. I can't swim. It's allowed."

"I've been swimming since I was two."

Shiro lets out a long-suffering sigh, eyes closing again. "Please don't brag," is all he requests, instantly dozing back to sleep.

Keith just shakes his head, smiling.

"You're not getting off easy, buddy," Lance says, grabbing Keith's wrist and hauling him up. "T-shirt off, dude. You are not escaping a swim with me."

"I'm a child too?" Keith tries, but Lance just raises his brows and starts flicking his covered shoulders until Keith peels off the shirt, sighing. "Whatever," he says, trying to seem cool. "Only because the pool on the castle hasn't been filled yet."

A grin unfurls from Lance's face, and he undoes the bracelet on his ankle, drops the board beside Shiro, and waves at his family before dragging Keith into the water with him.

"Oh," Keith says about two steps in. "It's warm."

"Hell yeah, dude," Lance says, dunking his head instantly to get his hair wet again. "It's Varadero, baby! It's always warm!"

"Oh my god," Keith says, paddling out deeper and face turning red, "don't ever call me baby again."

"What?" Lance says, following after, "why not? Who doesn't like being called baby? Is it a bad experience? Are you jealous because technically Shiro is the baby of you two and now you're, like, deprived of being called it so it strikes a sensitive spot or-"

"Oh my god!" says Keith, but when he turns around, treading water, he's smiling. "No! It's just- weird. You're my teammate."

"Yeah? Hunk's my best friend and I call him baby. Coran's, like, a weird tio and I called him baby. Once. That was kind of weird, actually."

"Yeah, no shit," Keith says, and starts a forward stroke towards the horizon. "This place is crazy, though. Walking through the streets... I don't remember anywhere in Texas being that loud, unless it was game day."

"That's Cuba, baby!" Lance says, and Keith just swims faster. Lance, doing breast stroke, keeps up easily. "For real, though. It's always noisy. It's crazier in Havana, though. You got people playing drums all night, sometimes, people rumba-dancing out in the street, or, like, a musician on every corner. Diego always wanders around the town with his guitar when he's not working."

"Wow, that's...pretty cool, honestly."

"Yeah," Lance sighs, the sea lapping at him with every stroke. "I love my country, dude. So good to be back."

Keith nods, and they swim a little further out until they realise the shore is pretty far behind. Lance immediately initiates a water fight, which seems to last hours as the sun drifts across the sky, Keith laughing like Lance has never seen before, the two of them grabbing and trying to dunk each other, spitting out salt water in their faces and shoving the heels of their hands in their eyes, trying to blink away the salt.

They go closer to shore when some of Lance's family spills in; the kids play up on the shore, but Lance lures them down, grabs Alonso and drops him on his shoulders whilst Diego gets Daniela, and they jokingly shove at each other until the other falls dramatically, making sure to grab the baby and keep them above water until they resurface. Solana sits at the shore, waves cresting up to her waist, smiling beside Lillynn.

Everything feels perfect. The babies laughing, Keith even taking Lance or Diego's spots a few times and playing with the kids, his family on the beach playing music from some old stereo while Shiro gets the best sleep he's probably had since before his Kerberos training and Pidge and Hunk settled in with Lance's parents, talking earnestly about the garrison situation whilst Isa and Alberto provide translations. Coran and Allura sit together at the water's edge, a few feet from Lance's sisters, drifting hands through the water as it comes up, pointing at the sun, other people on the beach, boarders, swimmers, Lance and his family. They're both smiling, shaking their heads, amazed.

It's everything Lance has wanted since the last time he came home. All he's wanted for months, for a year and a half. He can't believe it's been so long. Lance is just- glad. Glad to be home, if only for a few days. To be back with his family, people who honestly and earnestly love him, and show him that constantly, every day, every minute. To be happy again, to have the time to feel something that isn't fear his life is going to end, fear his life won't. To laugh and make jokes and no one is bored of it, telling him to quit it. To just...relax.

The music keeps playing when they get home. A few people shower, Lance doesn't bother. His hair dries easily, curlier than it's been in years, and Keith just about falls over laughing, stealing Lance's phone to take terrible photos of him. Lance finds himself not caring, not when Keith throws his head back like that, eyes shut with mirth. Lance hasn't really seen him like this.

Dinner is once more a raucous affair, with Coran sharing some of their wilder adventures while Lance translates, and afterwards, everyone disappears to do various things. Isa has to do essays for uni, which makes Lance laugh so much he has to sit down, and the babies go straight to sleep, and his parents sit down with his grandparents to watch the television, Diego on the second floor singing and playing his guitar. Hunk sits out in the garden and facetimes his family; after a while, Pidge joins him, and facetimes their mom.

Lance and Keith sit out on the awning beneath his window, and watch the sky turn from blue to pink to sparkling navy, and they finally talk. They can hear Hunk speaking below, Pidge crying, the low, electric murmur of their families replying, but they ignore it.

"I never expected it to be like this," Keith finally says. "I always wondered what kind of family could've raised you, but..."

"But what?" Lance says, too happy to sound as offended as he probably should.

"They're all...nice. Really nice. Your mom can't speak that much English, but she- she tries. For me. She keeps asking me if I'm okay, if I need to eat more. She keeps thanking me for being there with you when... And I don't know what to say. Like...I should be ashamed that she's grateful for me. Because I didn't do anything."

"If you hadn't shown up," Lance admits, "I'd have probably killed myself. For good. I would've shot myself into space, and there's no coming back from that."

Keith's expression hardens, and he nods. "I...guess so. Yeah, I guess."

"I mean, I still went for it, but...you kept it from being the worst-case scenario. And I'm glad." He looks at Keith, tries to pry a space for himself in the chaos of Keith's grey eyes. "Really, Keith. Thanks. I wouldn't be back home if it weren't for you."

Keith's lip trembles, and he tears his eyes away, takes a deep breath. "I-I know. I'm sorry. For not...realising. Or- I had no idea, Lance. I had no idea. It never crossed my mind that you could be- that you could possibly-"

"It's chill, dude. No one did until my first attempt, you know? Some people are just good at hiding." Lance shrugs, closes his eyes as guilt tugs on his heart. "I should've told you all. Fucking stupid of me not to. I know that. I know that, but I hid anyway." He shakes his head.

"I'm scared that...maybe it will happen again. And I won't be able to stop it. And you'll just be...dead, and- and-" Keith stops, shakes his head. After a moment, he raises a hand, covers his eyes as he hunches over, elbows on his thighs.

Lance bumps his shoulder to Keith's. "Look, I'm on my meds again, yeah? And mamá went into the pharmacy today and got me extra for space. And even if they run out, Allura and Coran can probably hook me up with some fancy space shit. And you all know, so... So it won't be an issue. Much."

"If you-" Keith says, and stops, sitting up again. He doesn't look at Lance, looks up at the stars. Maybe he traces Hercules, or Lyra. Maybe he's looking for where they left the castleship, locked and dark and hidden from view. "I-I know I'm not...good at...talking. To people. A-and I know you and Hunk and Pidge are all better friends, but...if you...wanted to talk about- anything, or...your troubles, I... I would listen. If you wanted."

"Huh," Lance says, sees stars reflected on his eyes. "Maybe, Keith. You're pretty good at listening, I guess."

"And I," Keith says, and takes another, deeper breath, as though bracing himself. This time, he looks Lance in the eye as he speaks: "And I was afraid," he says, fingers curling into fists, "that you would, that you might die. And I... I'd never told you. That I- How I feel. About you."

Lance blinks, repeatedly, looks to the stars and then back to Keith, whose cheeks are rapidly turning pink, fingers white in Lance's old jeans. "How you feel," he repeats dubiously.

"Yes, I- just, please don't hate me. Or- I'm sorry if I make things awkward. B-but you almost died, right in front of me, and I was so scared- so scared that would just be it, and you'd die thinking I hated you, or s-saw you as a rival or some bullshit like that." He sniffs, takes another deep breath, his voice cracking up a little like glass under a shoe as he speaks. "B-but I don't. Hate you, or anything like that. And I- I never did, Lance. I never hated you, that was just some- dumb bullshit you came up with. I-" Another deep breath. Amazingly, he still holds Lance's gaze. "I like you, Lance. I really like you. I always did. I- always, Lance. Like some teenage pining crush bullshit- like, always."

"Holy shit," Lance says, because his mind has gone wild, the words I like you playing over and over again as he stares in shock. "You- what?"

"I- Lance."

"No, say it again. Keith. Say it again."

Raising a brow, Keith says, "...I like you."

"You like me."

"If you're just gonna make fun of me-"

"No!" Lance says, and grabs Keith's hand, a grin spreading slowly over his face. Keith has baby hands, a little calloused on the fingers but soft and pudgy in the palm. Lance laces his fingers through them, and, hesitantly, Keith squeezes back. "You like me. Holy shit- Hunk?!"

"What is it, buddy?!" Hunk yells back, still lying on his front in the garden, Pidge slumped against him.

"Keith likes me, dude!"

"No shit! Go for it, buddy! He's a real catch!"

"I know!"

"Good job, Lance!" Pidge yells up. "You too, Keith! I knew you could do it!"

"Oh my god," Keith says, dropping his head into his free hand, but Lance just grins and kisses the hand he's holding. "Oh my god, Lance."

Isa, two windows along, sticks her head out and says, "Nice one, Lance!" and winking before slamming her window shut.

"Oh. My. God," Keith groans.

"Dude, you do not have to worry," Lance says. "I totally like you too. Yo, this is radical. Should I have tried to kill myself earlier? We really could've sped this whole thing up."

"Don't joke about that!" Keith says, straightening up and turning to him with tight features. "It's not funny, Lance. You almost- and I would've never-"

"Confessed your undying love for me, I know, baby," and he grins bigger than ever at the way Keith scowls. "I'm sorry, dude. After it happens twice and you're seeing a psychiatrist weekly it kind of becomes a joke, I guess."

"Jesus," Keith says, shaking his head. "Well, it's not funny to me."

"Noted." Lance tries to drop his head on Keith's shoulder, but Keith's too short, so Lance straightens up again, sighing. "Hey, should we kiss? To like, seal the deal? And we can like, hold hands as we sleep. Shit, we're gonna be so unbelievably cute- when everybody finds out-" His eyes widen. "Yo, is Shiro gonna kill me? Is he gonna interrogate me? Because my mamá and papá are definitely going to interrogate you. Lovingly, and while feeding you cake, but still."

"Uh," Keith says. "No? Uh...maybe. I mean, he already knows. And he might hold off a while since, you know, everything, but..."

"Wow," Lance says. "Well, once that's over with, we're gonna be so sickeningly cute, the others will hate us. We'll need to start training together more so we can pull of sick couple manoeuvres that make everyone else jealous. You lead the strike, I cover you from behind? And in a crucial moment while you're surrounded, I'll" - he fingerguns - "bam bam bam, and you'll swoosh, and, like, totally save the day."

"Wow," Keith says, shifting closer to Lance's side, "I think I've had dreams about that."

"We're gonna be such a power couple."

Keith nods, hand warm and tight in Lance's. "You know," he says finally, "about that whole kissing thing..."

"Hell yeah," Lance says, and puts his hand on Keith's face, then his waist, then his shoulder, then his knee, frowning. "Man, there are so many options."

"Jesus, Lance," says Keith, and grabs the roaming hand with his own. "Just relax. Haven't you kissed before?"

"Yeah, dude! Hunk and I used to double date! And obviously we kissed once. Just once! We were experimenting. You know what it's like." Keith stares. "Uh. Don't you?"

"Lance, did I ever have any friends at the garrison?"

Lance shrugs. "You had, like, a fan club. Why, haven't you kissed before?"

"Yeah, like...once. Drunk. And it was shitty, so..."

"Oh man, well you're in for an experience, a bonafide Hunk-certified tried-and-tested experience with me, Lance-" And Keith kisses him.

And Lance immediately thinks: never let this end. Their noses bump into each other and Lance breaks off laughing, Keith hmphing, but then Lances kisses him, tilts his head and presses his lips to Keith and thinks never never never.

Keith lips are warm, a little chapped, nothing some lip balm couldn't fix. Full and hesitant, curious, adapt so easily to whatever Lance tries. And when they pull apart, Lance rests his forehead against Keith's, grinning endlessly.

"You have tons of freckles," is the first thing Keith says post-kiss, and Lance can't help rolling his eyes as Keith lets go of a hand to poke at his cheeks.

"Man," Lance laments, "that was super fast."

"And you're hair is insane."

"That's the afro in afrolatinx, dude," Lance says, running his free hand through his hair. "Oh, god, what a mess. I wonder if my straighteners still work...?"

"No, don't straighten it," Keith says, moving his hand to Lance's hair as well. "I like it. It's cute."

"Cute," Lance repeats, and nearly dies. Instead, he kisses Keith again, grinning. "You think I'm cute."

"And annoying."

"Well I think you're super cute and not annoying at all! Only sometimes."

"Uh huh?"

"Like when you beat me in spars."

"Can't help it. I'm a good fighter."

"And you get anger super easy."

"I have abandonment issues."

"And you never seemed to like me before."

"You're not the only one good at hiding, Lance."

Lance nods, his mouth sobering into a soft frown as he gazes into Keith's eyes. Grey and endless, like a dozen mirrors trapped together, hiding the fire that burns in Keith's soul. "I," he says, and pauses. "I'll get better. With meds. And being here. But...sometimes liking me won't be easy, Keith. Sometimes it'll really suck. You don't have to- if it's just- I mean. This is some serious shit, Keith."

"I know," Keith says. "You think I'm an idiot? I lived with Shiro half my life. I know what that kind of thing is like. Liking me isn't easy, either, and I don't even have a reason. I'm just an asshole, sometimes."

"That's cool," Lance says. "Every time you get mad, I'm gonna put you in a time-out corner. Like on Supernanny. And only when you're calmed down will we talk."

"Yeah? Well, when you get depressed, I'm gonna get Pidge to put baby animal videos on repeat until you smile, and then I'll ask Hunk to make you dinner and I'll support you no matter what because that's what you deserve."

Face burning red, Lance blinks and says, "Wow," trying, in vain, to bury his head in Keith's shoulder again. "Ugh, c'mere," he says, moving Keith's head to his shoulder so he can bury his face in Keith's tied-up hair, instead. "Let's just stargaze, alright? Look, you see Hercules? And Lyra, right next to him. And all the way over there, you see?"

That night they hold hands as they sleep, and neither of them have nightmares.

--

Sunday morning, Lance thinks as he wakes up. Time for church.

Apparently. They didn't go to church every Sunday back before he left - maybe something changed. Maybe they thought if they were devout enough, God would return Lance to his family, unharmed, unafraid, bathed in holy water like a newborn babe.

And that is, sort of, what happened. So they go to church. They disguise themselves once more: Pidge is decked out in baggy jeans and a shirt, this time, and Hunk wears high-waisted shorts and a crop top, which means Lance is able to coerce Keith into a pair of shorts too, and then Lance puts on denim dungarees and an old Nasa t-shirt, and Shiro pops out in high-waisted jeans and a tank-top, his prosthetic shining in the sun.

Church is quiet. They keep their heads down, eyes shut, hands clasped. His whole family murmurs along with the prayers. Lance knows Pidge and Hunk aren't religious, but they stay respectful, as does Keith, and Shiro closes his eyes and mouths to himself, but it isn't any English Lance can make out, and he wonders if Shiro isn't taking this moment to pay respects to his own religion, whatever it may be.

It's calming, here, the church cooler than outside, and everyone is softspoken, and everyone speaks Spanish, and even though he was speaking with his family at breakfast, it's somehow different. Lance bows his head and says his prayers, takes his mamá's hand halfway through the service and doesn't let go until they return home, and their lunch is prepared. Lance and his friends aren't allowed to help at all, so he takes everyone to his room and lets them have it his stuff. Allura immediately takes all the shorts he hadn't wanted; Pidge grabs his leftover flannels, Hunk rummages through his accessories, grabbing leather bracelets and banana-shaped sunglasses.

So he ends up needing two boxes, filled to the brim with his bullshit, and then Isa catches on to what they're doing and starts offering up stuff she doesn't care about anymore, and then Lance ends up borrowing his papá's credit card so they can head to the local market and pick up whatever bullshit they need.

So then they need three boxes.

But it's worth it. Keith cajoles Shiro into getting temporary hair dye for his white streak, and Hunk purchases stuff to make his own soap with, and Pidge grabs a shit ton of vitamin D supplements, and Lance buys out half the nail polish rack before reigning in his senses a little. Keith even lets Lance hold his hand. It's fun. It's stupid. They could be anyone, any bunch of kids who came in to waste money on shit, and Lance and Hunk had even smeared on blue cream eye shadow on their cheekbones so Allura and Coran wouldn't look weird, and it's the most normal Lance has felt in months.

He takes photos. He takes them to a park, makes them play dumb I Spy games, teaches Allura how to swing high enough to go round the bar while Pidge terrorises children on the roundabout. There are posters of him. On streetlights. Pinned to park benches. Stuck to the walls of buildings.

MISSING, they proclaim in bold black lettering. LANCE HERNANDEZ, 17 Y/O.

They put in two pictures. One is his garrison headshot, solemn and serious and fifteen years old in that godawful uniform, and a later selfie he must've taken months before he left, grinning, in some navy starry shirt.

Saying goodbye is...hard. They return home, Lance dumps the plastic bags in his cardboard boxes and he and Keith haul them downstairs, and Lance hovers in his room, emptier than before, somehow, gaping holes in the walls where posters used to be, desk uncluttered for the first time in years, wardrobe hollow. He spends half an hour picking photos to keep, which to leave. Him and his family at ten years old, he takes. Photos when Hunk and Pidge were over, he takes. Him and Isa flashing the peace sign, skateboarding together; him playing Diego's guitar as Diego sings out next to him; him and Federico, arms around each other, eyes closed because their grins are so huge; he takes.

And he lets his family keep the rest.

"I'll come back," Lance murmurs to his mother as they gather in the garden, some hours later. "In a year or two. Hunk wants to go to Samoa next time, but I'll call you. Mamá - I'll keep myself safe. I won't hurt myself again. I promise."

She just holds him tight, face buried in his chest. "Yes, I know, baby," she says. "You need to go save the universe, I know that. And you will, won't you?"

"Yes, mamá," he says, even when he doesn't know if that's the truth. "But it'll take years. I don't know when I'll be back. I'll try and come back every year."

"No, baby. If the universe needs you, I cannot stop you. I have this precious weekend. I have the photos you left. I have all my memories. If you need to save the universe, then you cannot come to Earth."

"Oh, mamá," he says, breaking into tears so easily. "I'll miss you. I love you. I love you so much, mamá. Thank you."

Around him, the others mingle, hold each other, exchange handshakes and hugs and kisses. Isa is taking a selfie with everyone. Diego kisses both their cheeks. Alberto takes their hand in both of his and asks them to look out for Lance. The boxes are already tucked safely into the invisible pod. Everything is set to go.

His papá is full-on weeping as he takes Lance into his arms. "Oh, Leandro," he sighs. "How did I always know my youngest son would break my heart the most?"

"Papá-"

"No, Leandro. I am so proud of you. I love you very much, and I always have. And I will- we will all be waiting, right here, for when you return. However long it will be. However many years... You just keep yourself safe. Look out for your friends, your family, and they will always look out for you."

"Yes, papá," he says. "I will."

"And remember we love you. More than anything. Unconditionally. No matter if war changes you, no matter what you must do to survive. Always, Leandro."

"Th-" Lance sniffs, hides his face in his papá's shoulder. "Thanks, papá."

It is difficult to break away and face his siblings, his niece and nephew. They make it easy for him; dogpile onto him, grab his shoulders, his neck, ruffle through his curly hair as they all weep. Solana holds him tight for a good ten minutes; Isa grabs him and sobs onto his shoulder, complaining the whole time about how he's messing up her make up. Alberto is biting his lip and desperately trying to hold back tears as he squeezes Lance's shoulder before breaking and holding him, too. Diego sings some silly lullaby from his childhood as they hug. Lillynn gives him a poem, presses her hands to his cheeks and tucks her head over his hair.

His grandparents whisper soft Spanish to him, give him money even though he doesn't think he can use it in space, speak a prayer for him, call him blessed. His abuela gives him a hastily-written recipe for his favourite meal, and he ends up bursting into more sobs over it.

It is hardest to say goodbye to the babies. He swoops up Daniela first, pokes her chubby cheeks like on the first night. "Uncle Lancey has to leave again," he says, "but don't be sad, okay? Because Uncle Lancey is out fighting evil aliens in a big robot lion, okay, baby?" Daniela nods very seriously.

"Yes, Lancey," she says. "Like a big hero."

He grins through tears. "Yes, baby. I'm a big hero. All my friends are. And we need to go and be heroes again. And I don't know when I'll be back, baby."

And just like that, her face crumples. "B-but," she says, "but I was g-gonna- play soccer with you! At the holidays!"

"I'm sorry, baby," he says, his voice catching so easily. "I can't stay. I- I have to be a hero, baby. Save the whole universe. Diego will play with you. Or Isa."

"But they always play with me! I miss you, Lancey!"

"I- I'm sorry, baby," he says, chokes on his tears, and Solana takes a wailing Daniela for his arms, and, numb, he takes Alonso in his arms.

"I know," says seven year old Alonso eyes serious. "Danny is such a baby, but I know you need to go."

"You're a baby too," Lance says, sniffing, but Alonso just frowns at him. "You won't cry, will you, baby? Not in front of Danny. She's so- she's so young, baby."

"I know, Lancey," he says. "I'll look after her. I'll make sure she's asleep before I cry."

Lance manages a smile. "When you want to cry, go find your mamá, baby. Or your abuela. They'll look after you the way they looked after me."

"Okay, Lancey," says Alonso. "You're gonna come home, right?" For the first time, poor baby Alonso looks close to tears. "You will come home, Lancey?"

"I will," he says fiercely. "I just don't know when. I'm sorry, baby."

"'S 'kay," Alonso mumbles. "Don't be gone too long. Mamá will cry."

"Okay," Lance says, "I'll do my best. For you, baby. I'll see you again. Someday, yeah, baby?"

"Yeah, Lancey. Bye bye. Love you."

"Love you too, baby," he says, and kisses Alonso's head, holds him maybe a second longer than he needs to, then Lillynn is at his side, taking Alonso off his hands. His friends have backed into a small space beside him, and his family are in a tight circle, holding hands, shoulders, heads tucked into shirts to hide tears. "So I guess this is goodbye. For now."

"For now, Leandro," says his mamá. "Go make me proud, baby."

He doesn't cry. He has to force it, close his eyes to embrace the blow of his mamá's words, and nods, but then he says, "I will, mamá. I'll make all of you proud. I love you."

His friends wave, call goodbye and thank you and shuffle into the pod; as Lance follows, Isa shrieks, "I love you, Lance! Stay safe!"

Which lets loose all of them, and as Coran fires up the engine, Lance hangs out the open door, tears freely streaking down his cheeks, his entire family waving and crying and wishing him well, and luck, and telling him how much they love him.

And then they are in the air, and he has to shut the door behind him, sit between Keith and Hunk and hunch over, head in his hands.

Even though he's leaving, and in tears, and he is gone from his family, it doesn't really feel like an ending. Around him, his friends warmly recall their experiences with his family; Allura trails a hand over the lipstick print Isa left on her cheek; and they go through the photos Lance took with him, laughing, pointing, Hunk and Pidge explaining the story behind whatever photos they're in.

And instead of an ending, it kind of feels like a beginning.