Chapter Text
Lance thought the flip flop of his stomach would cease once he managed to work the words out of his mouth. That weight settled deep in his chest would rise, his anxiety levels would plummet, and the fucking need to run his damp hands along the sides of his pants would go away eventually. Right?
Wrong. He's so wrong. Everything seems to spike. His heart is desperately trying to break free from the confines of his ribcage and blood rushes to his cheeks; burning the tips of his ears so he’s practically forced to rub his neck in hopes of hiding it. And Keith is just staring at him.
No, wait. He said something. He said something?
“I-I’m sorry. One more time?”
Keith winces. He’s got his hands up like he doesn’t know what else to do and his foot is already raised in an attempt to twist his body towards the exit. Lance doesn’t need to hear a response to know what it is.
“Look, Lance,” Keith starts. There’s a noticeable unease in the Red Paladins eyes that Lance has no trouble catching. Which stings because they fucking fly robotic cats. In space. Unease should be the last thing flickering across his features when he’s just talking to Lance. “That’s not-”
Pidge chooses that exact moment to walk in munching on a bowl of green goo and offers them a single look before pausing. She should have the decency to leave but she doesn’t, and Keith isn’t kind enough to finish their conversation in private.
“I’m not,” Keith glances at Pidge. “Gay.”
And Lance takes the word like a hurdle, merely jumps it and starts towards the next. “Neither am I!” He says urgently, smiling despite his desperation to really specify his intentions before things go south. “I’m actually Bi, which doesn’t matter but it kind of does. I mean, I just felt like it was a good time, y’know? What with Shiro back and everyone in high spirits. The bonding moment?”
Keith flinches away when Lance takes a step forward. And ow.
“Lance, that wasn’t like, some green light.” He grinds out. Keith looks as desperate as Lance feels, only in a different sense. Like he can’t comprehend what this was. “Look, this is inappropriate. We’re guys. We’re-we’re rivals. I hate you, you hate me. That’s how it works.”
“But I don’t hate you.” Lance blurts. “Obviously I don’t hate you. In fact, I really like-”
“Stop.” Keith snaps. “Just stop. I’m forgetting this ever happened, okay? You’re not...You’re not...”
Normal.
Lance swallows. “O-Okay. Just forget I said anything. This doesn’t have to be weird. Just forget it.”
Keith stares at his feet for a moment before giving a slight jerk of his head in silent agreement. Like this was some fucking professional interaction between boss and employee.
“Great, I’ll definately do that.” He mumbles before hurrying out of the room like he just caught Lance naked or something. It’s fine, really. He figured this would go one of two ways, but he had to admit that plan B was something he hoped wouldn’t happen.
Keith just isn’t gay. It was a long shot, honestly.
“Lance?” Pidge murmures gently, like he’ll break if she speaks any louder. “You okay?”
Lance turns to look at her with a grin. “Fuck no.”
*
Now, being confined to a giant castle in the middle of space means you have to be smart when sneaking around. Especially since it’s emberassingly easy to run into people when you’re very obviously trying to avoid them.
So Lance takes his walk of shame in the dead of night when he knows everyone else is asleep (accept maybe Pidge) and the showers are empty. He learned his eighth grade year that crying in the shower is always your best option. Red eyes could be passed off as lack of sleep or natural irritation. A runny nose and blatant tear tracks? Not so much.
So he closes the doors and books it to the furthest stall in the back of the large room. It’s probably his paranoia, but he starts the water in three seperate locations along the wall, just for good measure, before stripping himself of his heavy clothes.
And like a flimsy deck of cards, he crumbles to the ground the second he steps under the spray.
“H-hey, Ma?” He whispers through his sobs. If he tries hard enough, it’s almost like he’s talking on the phone. Can even picture it in his head. His mama would have her hip jutted out, pressed gently against the countertop in the floral apron he got her the summer before his dissapearence. He’d be able to hear her smile on the line, feel her concern masked with encouragement. “I-I remembered your advice. About telling people how you feel and stuff?”
Now would be the time she’d coo her understanding. She’d walk further into the room so his siblings couldn’t hear the saddness in her words or his ugly sobbing. Like he’s doing right now.
“I don’t-” Lance ducks his head and curses. His tears wouldn't stop. They just kept coming no matter how many times he blinked. He wished they stopped. “I don’t think it’s gonna work out for me. I think I ruined what little we had in the first place. I-”
God. How did he end up like this. How did he end up millions of miles from home, in the middle of a fucking war he never signed up for, with people he wasn’t sure even liked him. How come Keith had to be the one to break his heart?
“Ma, I fucked it up. I fucked it up and I want to go home. I want to complain to you and Maria and have you guys cheer me up with ice cream. And I want dad to roll his eyes when I sing my heart out because for some goddamn reason I can’t sing loud enough out here. Nobody can hear you in space.”
Not even when a mullet breaks your heart.
Lance knows his mama would shut him up with a rush of spanish that not even his dad could decode. It’d be something along the lines of, ‘First of all, hijo, you watch your mouth before I come and smack those curses out of you. Second. You have no reason to feel ashamed.’
Lance flinches and blinks his eyes open. Ashamed. Ashamed? Was he ashamed?
‘A boy who hurts you for who you are is a boy that I won’t accept. You look at me now,’
Lance feels his lower lip quiver and wishes he could. Wishes he could see her or hear the heat in her voice. Knows that if he could, everything would be okay.
‘My baby boy. You’ve always felt so much.’ She’d whisper. Not heartbroken, just heartsick. ‘We love you, Lance. Who you are is what drives us to smile. To make light of heavy situations. Do not forget that you are loved here. And remember that there are just some people out there that can’t understand love themselves. There is nothing wrong with-’
“Me.” Lance murmures. The water is lukewarm now. He knows he’s cried a years worth of tears and silently thanks his mama for pounding strength into his very being.
So he rebuilds his walls. Starts from scratch and wipes the slate clean. No problem whatsoever.
“There’s nothing wrong with me.” He mumbles while he towels off. “You’re in space for fucks sake. If anything, liking boys is the last thing you’re gonna be judged for. Just let it go.”
The doors slide open and he let’s the steam follow him out into the hallway.
I’m “And hey.” He whispers. “Now you can shamelessly flirt like it’s your job again. Maybe the next mission will involve saving a cute girl. Or a hot guy saving you?” Lance smiles at his feet and tries to remember the last time he hit on a guy. Keith put a wrench in that lifestyle real quick though. And even flirting with girls had been off limits in his time spent trying to impress Keith.
But Keith was dense, hotheaded, and downright cruel at times. He never said anything nice, always pinned Lance a bit rougher than he’d consider friendly when they trained, and now looked at Lance like he grew a second head.
Lance stops.
“Why the hell do I even like him?” He groans miserably. The doors to the hallway open in response and he wanders through with a frown. Keith had stupid hair and bad skin care routines. More like, no routine at all but that never took away from his natural beauty. Keith had the pale complexion of a porcelain doll. And yes, the mullet was stupid and old fashion but Lance had mused many a times that it’d be a great place to grab and hold onto. If the need ever came up.
Which it never will. What with Keith hating him and all.
“Lance?”
“Oh quiznak!” He shrieks. The towel wrapped around his head spills down to the floor, leaving him a damp, flustered mess in his leaders line of sight.
Great.
“Shiro? What are you doing up?”
Shiro doesn’t answer at first. He’s got his arms crossed in that stupid stance he only takes when he’s about to scold Lance. And that’s probably what’s gonna happen. It’s entirely too late for him to be sneaking around the castle. He wouldn’t be surprised either if his thinking is what woke Shiro from his sleep.
Any minute now. It’s coming, Shiro was just looking for the right words.
Or no words. Because the taller man isn’t doing anything but looking Lance up and down, gray eyes entirely too focused on his face which triggers a blush despite himself.
“You’ve been crying.” Shiro states gently. Lance wants to laugh it off, get mad, do something to just, avoid the way this conversation is heading. But Lance is a passionate person. He feels too much, just like his mama always said. And Shiro’s concern, or, feign of concern at most, is all it takes to have his throat clogging with sadness.
“Yeah.” Lance says, a wilt to his usual smile. “Ah, but don’t worry about it. I was gonna head straight to bed and show up to training on time. Just like always. This won’t interfer-”
“Lance.” Shiro interupts roughly, then, in a softer tone, says, “I’m not here as your leader. I’m here because you look like you need someone.”
And crap. It’s really- It’s just unexpected. He doesn’t know how to cross this bridge with Shiro, especially since it’s been so goddamn tense between everyone. But if he was willing...
Lance looks at his feet. “Right. Okay, um. Can you hug me then? Just for a sec so I can-yeah, that’s perfect.”
Shiro gathers Lance close and even goes as far as tucking the boys face into his shoulder. Lance won’t cry in front of Shiro. Or at least, he shouldn’t. But the way that Shiro holds him like he deserves this time of vulnerability is enough to send him sobbing apart in his arms.
“I’m sorry.” Lance manages. “Sorry for waking you up. Sorry for getting snot on your shirt and making you do all this. Sorry I’m not-”
Shiro’s flesh hand holds tight behind Lance’s head, cradles him close so he can’t pull away or even look up. “Don’t do that.” He huffs. “Don’t apologize when you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re doing great, Lance. Really.”
“Okay.” Lance says wetly. He’s still got fat tears rolling down his cheeks when Shiro pulls back to look down at him. “I’m sorry. I know I’m improving, I know that. I just forget.”
And he does. He has trouble remembering that it’s never really his fault when things don’t go right. At least, not anymore. But having Keith turn him down...
“You wanna tell me what’s got Pidge in an uproar?”
Ten minutes later finds Shiro and Lance settled on opposite ends of his bed. It’s quite the experience, sitting in your idols room after ugly crying for a good five years. But Shiro is shockingly open with his expression, dare he say caring, despite the usual rigid, soldier- like attitude. It’s what he needs right now.
“I never really had to come out.”
Shiro blinks but otherwise, says nothing.
“My family kind of knew, I guess? Like, nothing was ever said about it and they were all comfortable enough to understand. But I never had to really, come out like most people do.” He’s not too sure where he’s going with this but he feels that if Pidge and Keith knew, than he might as well tell the man who had a tendency to be oblivious. “My dad tried for me. It helped, not making a big deal about it but I was still his oldest son. The one who was supposed to be a man, a good role model for the others, follow in your pops’ footsteps, y’know? And just before the Garrison, he told me to find a nice girl while I was out there. And that...that just messed me up. I thought, anything less and I’ll be a dissapointment.”
He remembers his dad smiling at him as he was shipped off to the one place he felt he was made for. And he remembers keeping his dads words at the forefront of his mind. Compliment that girl, show them you’re normal. Flirt like you have nothing to hide because right now, you have everything to be afraid of.
Be normal. Be normal. Get yourself a nice girl, Lance.
“My ma always said to always let other people know how you feel. She thought-” Lance smiles at his hands. “She thought that holding your emotions in caused sickness so she always made sure to sit and talk with us. I thought, maybe this will work out. Maybe space is the place to just, put myself out there and hope for the best.”
When Lance looks up, Shiro has something close to sympathy in his eyes. It’s honestly enough knowing that someone out there is listening. Shiro is hearing him.
“Um.” He blushes. He hadn’t really thought this through so he tries to look anywhere but at his leader when he says it. “I told Keith that I l-liked him? I mean, I did. I do. Like him. But,” Lance fiddles with a string on his boxers and flashes a smile with no real enthusiasm. “Seems like Keith isn’t as interested as I had hoped, so...”
“So that’s what this is about.” Shiro mused quietly. The white tufts of his hair had fallen between his eyes in his halfhazard state and the calculating look on his face cheered Lance up just a bit. A disheveled Shiro was definately a more relateable Shiro.
“It was a bad idea. Should’ve known with the way he kicks my ass during training. Just figured, go big or go home, right?”
Shiro’s shaking his head so Lance tells himself not to laugh it off. “No, you deserve validation. Keith has a temper, though.”
Lance looks at the bruises on his inner arms and nods. “Yeah. Which is why I told him when he wasn’t near his bayard.”
Shiro chuckles and meets Lance with a gaze far too gentle to be real. “I don’t think he’d hurt you.” He murmures. “I just think you threw him for a loop. He’s not the best at doing the whole ‘feelings’ thing. He’s had it hard with the aspect of love and affection. It’s still very foreign to him.”
Lance knows that. He get’s that Keith wasn’t going to drop to his knees and declare his own love, dip Lance and kiss him like it was some romantic comedy and not real life. All he asked for was...
Mercy?
“He doesn’t hate me more, does he? You don’t hate me, right?”
Shiro reaches out for Lance again and holds him like it’s the last time they’ll talk. From then on, it’s hard not to melt under the strong embrace as Shiro squeezes him.
“I don’t hate you, Lance. We don’t hate you. As for Keith? Just let him think it through. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, there’s a whole galaxy filled with possible partners just waiting to be swept off their feet. You just gotta look.”
Lance snorts. Can’t help himself with his word vomit.
“What’s next, the sex talk?”