Chapter Text
Keith wonders, theoretically, exactly how fast his heart can beat before it gives out completely. Personally, he hypothesizes that it can break the sound barrier, which exceeds the human’s average heart rate by approximately 767.5 mph, and he’ll still be just fine. How does he know this? Because that’s how fast his heart is beating right now, laying in bed in the darkness of his cabin while he waits for everyone else to fall asleep so he can sneak out to meet up with a cute boy and frolic through the meadow in the middle of the night.
Furthermore, it follows logically that by the time he meets up with the aforementioned cute boy, his heart rate will greatly exceed the sound barrier. By how much, he’s not sure, but either way it doesn’t make much of a difference. His hypothesis here is looking more than a little bleak.
Lights out was technically twenty minutes ago, but he wants to be extra sure that everyone is asleep before he tries anything. He’s snuck out of the cabin more times than he can count for all kinds of reasons and never been caught, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. This time shouldn’t be any harder than the others, but he’s not willing to risk messing it up. He’d rather be late to his date than miss it altogether because he got sloppy.
Matt’s snoring from the top bunk is Keith’s cue. There’s not a soul in camp who could possibly fake it, which means that yes, he is officially asleep. Keith takes a deep breath and slowly peels back his covers, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stills for a moment, listening for any sort of movement that might indicate someone else is awake. Nothing happens, so he exhales quietly and slips to the floor, grabbing Lance’s jacket from where it’s been hanging on the bedpost and heading for the door.
He “went to bed early” today, specifically so no one would question it when he climbed into bed wearing his everyday clothes and shoes. Shiro had said it wasn’t necessary, but Keith decided to wear his nicest shirt anyway—the thrift store shirt, a plain red pocket tee that had been much too big for him when he first got it but that he loved anyway. That, and his least holey pair of jeans. (Literally. He counted.)
Once safely outside, he checks the pocket of Lance’s jacket one more time, shoulders sinking in relief when he sees the neatly folded piece of paper tucked inside. After training he’d gone straight to the Hermes cabin to work on his drawing of the meadow, putting the finished product directly into the pocket of Lance’s jacket before he could forget about it (not that he would have). He must’ve checked a dozen times before climbing into bed earlier, but he wants to be surer than sure that it’s still there.
The trip to the dock isn’t very long, only a few minutes or so, but to Keith it feels like ages. At multiple points he has to resist the urge to run—the only reason he doesn’t is because of the possibility of Lance seeing, and he’s had enough embarrassment in the past few days to last him for a while. Lance’s jacket weighs heavily in his arms, and Keith checks the pocket twice more to make sure the paper hasn’t somehow fallen out without him noticing. As much as he loves having an article of Lance’s clothing, at this point he just wants it out of his hands if only to stop obsessing over it, but he’ll have to wait until they’re in the meadow for that.
Usually it’d be too dark to make anything out, but with a full moon and a clear sky, there’s plenty of light for him to see the dock when he comes over the hill that leads down to the lake. It’s the perfect night; not too warm, not too cool, a comforting breeze that thankfully doesn’t blow Keith’s hair out of control drifting across the clearing, water rippling gently as moonlight dances across its surface. Any other day, he would pause and take the time to appreciate and soak in the view, but as of right now he’s a little preoccupied searching for something else.
His heart skips a beat when his eyes land on a dark figure at the end of the dock, legs dangling over the edge and swinging back and forth in the water. It has to be Lance—for obvious reasons—and Keith has probably already kept him waiting for a while, but now that he’s practically there he finds himself hesitating. It’s not that he’s having second thoughts, but… is this really such a good idea? Is he even ready for this? He’s been hurt a lot in the past, anyone close to him knows that he has more than a few unresolved issues, and he would hate for Lance to get tangled up in that mess. And what if everything about tonight goes wrong? Keith is great at messing things up, as evidenced by the past week. He’s just lucky Lance had the good grace to forgive him. But even worse, what if this is all some sort of elaborate prank, what if this doesn’t mean nearly as much to Lance as it does to Keith, what if—
Keith immediately dismisses those thoughts with a shake of his head. No way that’s even within the realm of possibility. Lance told him that he would never intentionally hurt him, and Keith believes him. Besides, he’s pretty sure Lance wouldn’t have showed up at his cabin this morning worried that he had asked him out wrong, or kissed him on the cheek, if he wasn’t serious about this. So Keith takes a deep breath, steels himself, and begins his descent toward the lake.
Lance hasn’t turned around by the time Keith reaches the dock, face still turned up to the sky. Keith thanks his lucky stars for that, because if Lance had spotted him while he was on the way down the hill he thinks he would’ve frozen up like a deer in the headlights. His heart is beating much too irregularly in his chest than could possibly be healthy as he takes a tentative step onto the old wooden planks.
“Hi,” he says, hoping he’s close enough for his voice to be heard over the sound of the water lapping at the shoreline.
Lance turns to look over his shoulder, sitting up straight and face brightening the second he sees him. “Keith!”
He almost sounds surprised, and Keith really hopes it’s not because he was afraid that Keith had second thoughts. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he adds quickly, watching as Lance climbs to his feet and jogs down the length of the dock to meet him. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t get caught.”
“Don’t worry, I only got here a couple minutes ago,” Lance assures him, tucking his hands into his pockets and smiling. “Your timing is perfect.”
Keith relaxes slightly, but there’s still a tightness in his chest that can only be explained by his nerves. He shuffles his feet as he searches for something to say, glancing down and suddenly remembering what he’s holding. “Oh, uh—here’s your jacket back.”
He holds it out and Lance grins as he takes it. “Thanks, man. I knew you’d take good care of it.” Keith doesn’t even know why that makes him blush but it does, even more so when Lance winks at him. “Plus, I thought it’d be a good incentive. You know, in case you got cold feet.”
Keith feels the way his own face falls. “I wouldn’t have—”
Lance must realize that his quip didn’t land so well, because his eyes widen and he rushes to fix it. “No, I know you wouldn’t have, I was just—teasing.”
“Oh.” Keith’s face continues to burn. “Right.”
Lance offers another small smile that Keith forces himself to return despite the frantic swooping in his stomach. He’s so nervous, he’s not sure how long he’ll make it before embarrassing himself beyond the point of no return (more than he already has). They’re on their way into an awkward silence, he can tell, it’s one of his worst fears and he’s at an utter loss of what he’s supposed to say. Usually Lance has no problem keeping up a conversation, but that’s probably hard to do when Keith has the social skills of a brick wall. Not that they’ve never had a one-on-one conversation, because they’ve had tons, but never like this. This is unfamiliar territory for both of them, and especially Keith, because—
“I’ve never done this before,” Keith blurts. Lance’s expression morphs into one of confusion and Keith grimaces, scrambling for words. “I’m sorry. Been on a date, I mean. I—this is just, really new to me.”
He shifts his weight anxiously as Lance stares at him, mouth hanging open slightly like he doesn’t quite understand. “Really?” he asks, genuine disbelief in his voice.
Keith huffs, averting his gaze. “Being homeless and on the run at seven years old didn’t exactly bode well for my dating life.” Lance is quiet for a moment. Keith wishes he knew what he was thinking, but mostly he’s afraid of what it would be, if Lance is starting to realize he’s made a mistake or if he’s embarrassed and wondering how he got himself into this situation at all.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never done this before either?”
Keith’s head snaps up. No. No, he would not. “What?”
Lance smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… also kinda hard to date when you keep getting kicked out of school.”
He’s not the only demigod at camp who was regularly kicked out of school, not even close, but Keith still has to try not to laugh at the image of a young Lance standing in front of a smouldering elementary school. “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Here.” Lance tosses his jacket onto the dock beside him, taking Keith’s hand and tugging him forward. “I wanna show you something.” Keith is too busy staring at their connected hands to say anything back, letting himself be pulled along the dock until they reach the other end. He internally laments the loss of warmth in his hand when Lance lets go to point down into the water, eyes glittering in the moonlight. “There.”
Keith follows Lance’s gaze and searches for anything of interest in the water below, but even with what light they have, it’s much too dark to see anything. He glances sideways at Lance, then back into the water. “Um… what am I looking for?”
“It’s kind of hard to see,” Lance admits, lowering himself onto his knees. “You probably need to get closer.”
Keith follows suit and carefully lowers himself onto his knees, leaning as far over the edge of the dock as he dares. He can see maybe an inch or so into the water, but other than that it’s nothing but darkness. “I still don’t see anything. Are you sure—”
That’s all he gets to say before suddenly he’s falling headfirst into the water with a yelp, nearly swallowing a mouthful in his surprise. His arms flail uselessly for a moment as his body floats in the chilly darkness, unsure which way is up or down, before his brain seems to process his orientation and sends him splashing back to the surface. He breaks free and gasps for air, coughing and spluttering and spitting out the clumps of hair sticking to his face. “Lance, what—”
“Geronimo!” Lance yells, and promptly cannonballs into the lake directly beside Keith, who does his best to shield his face at the last second from the fresh onslaught of water. He shoots Lance a bewildered look when he reappears a few feet away with an enormous grin on his face, turning over to float on his back.
“What in the name of—what was that for?”
“Nothing!” Lance insists, stroking through the water so he’s closer to Keith. “I just thought this would be a nice way to undercut the awkwardness we’re both feeling, that’s all.”
“Oh, because shoving your date into the lake in the middle of the night is so romantic,” Keith retorts, but Lance is right. He’s already laughing, and only laughs more when he swings his arm and sends an arc of water in Lance’s direction and sends him diving for cover.
Lance comes back up and takes a gulping breath before grinning, running his fingers through his wet bangs and flattening them back. “I know, right? Aphrodite wishes she had these skills.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re feeling super romanced right now.”
Keith sends another small wave of water toward Lance, laughing again when he sends one right back, and soon enough they’re in a full-out splash war. The warm night air is filled with the sound of splashing and laughter, starlight rippling around them and water flying in all directions. Keith can hardly see through the hair plastered to his face, his wet bangs flopping into his eyes every time he tries to push them back, but it’s not enough to deter him. All he has to do is follow the sound of Lance’s sweet, melodic laughter to know where he should splash next.
“I can’t believe you,” Keith complains, sputtering when he accidentally swallows a mouthful of the water Lance has just shoved at him. “I wore my nicest shirt for you and everything!”
Lance is still giggling uncontrollably, struggling to stay afloat as he clutches at his stomach. “Aw, you did? That’s so sweet.”
Keith points an accusatory finger at him. “Take it back.”
“No!” Keith opens his mouth to complain some more, but Lance dives forward and grabs onto his shoulders before he gets the chance, dragging them both down into the water. They grapple with each other for a moment, but Keith is spending most of his energy on containing his laughter to avoid swallowing another mouthful of lakewater, so Lance breaks free of his grip almost immediately and kicks back up to the surface. He grins at Keith over his shoulder when he resurfaces as well, shaking his hair out of his face. “Last one back to the dock is a rotten egg!”
“If you thought you had a chance at actually winning you wouldn’t be such a cheater!” Keith calls, as Lance is already well on his way to shore with no signs of slowing for a fair race. Lance is easily the better swimmer though, so it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference.
Which makes the look on his face when he sees Keith clambering onto the edge of the dock after his third attempt to hoist himself out of the water far enough to reach it that much sweeter. Keith pants slightly as he climbs to his feet, soaking wet and dripping all over the wooden planks with a triumphant smile. “I win.”
Lance shoves him back into the water. In hindsight, Keith probably should’ve seen that coming a million miles away, but it’s worth it to hear the sound of Lance’s laughter again.
“So.” Lance’s eyes glitter as he takes Keith’s hand and helps him back onto the dock, smiling as he draws them away from the edge. “Did it work?”
Keith hums, acting as though he needs a moment to think about it. “Yeah,” he admits, heart fluttering as he laces his fingers through Lance’s before he can let go. “I’d say so.”
Lance’s answering smile is even more blinding than the last. “Are you sufficiently wooed?”
“Pretty sure I was sufficiently wooed ages ago,” Keith mumbles, but any embarrassment he feels quickly melts away at the sound of Lance’s laughter as he allows himself to be pulled along the rest of the dock.
They quickly collect their things—Lance’s things really, including his jacket and a small drawstring bag, the contents of which Lance is very secretive about—and head out into the meadow. Keith’s entire body feels warm, chest buzzing with giddiness as they run through the grass, stumbling over their own feet and laughing into the quiet summer night. He can’t remember the last time he felt quite so light, so full of energy and childish excitement. Between constant training so they can defend themselves from monsters outside of camp and frequently watching their fellow demigods leave for dangerous quests, some of which never return, they don’t often get the chance to be like this. Like kids, like lovesick teenagers who have the entire future to look forward to and all the time in the world to figure out what to do with it.
Lance’s hand is warm and solid in Keith’s. Lance is always warm, Keith thinks, yet one more thing that points directly to his godly heritage. The list just keeps on growing, doesn’t it? Keith feels another familiar pang of embarrassment, but given the events of the past few days he’s used to it, and either way it’s easily drowned out by the fluttering of his heartbeat when Lance turns to smile at him.
“Think this is far enough?”
Keith glances over his shoulder at the distant treeline, the surface of the lake shimmering in the moonlight before being swallowed by the meadow’s gentle slopes. “Fine by me.”
“Good, because I have a surprise.” Keith mourns the loss of Lance’s hand in his, but Lance needs it to rummage through his drawstring bag, which he is currently doing. There’s a bit of crinkling, and then out of it he produces two plastic bags. In the dark, it takes Keith a moment to make out the labels on the packaging, but when he does he can’t help the surprised gasp that comes out of his mouth.
“Oh my gods. Are those—”
“Two unexpired packs of sour gummy worms?” Lance grins, waving the bags in the air. “Absolutely they are. Don’t ask me how I got them, I pulled a million strings and asked a million favors. Mostly from Allura, but she loves me, so it’s fine.”
Keith gingerly accepts the bag he’s given, staring down at it in wonder. “This is… I can’t remember the last time I ate something that didn’t have any nutritional value.”
Lance laughs loudly, the sound of it vibrating warmly in Keith’s chest. “Well, that changes tonight. I think we’ve more than earned it.” He flops onto the ground in a way that looks like it should hurt, pulling open his bag of gummy worms with a pop. Keith chuckles to himself as he follows suit, sitting across from Lance and examining his own bag for a moment before opening it as well. Lance drops a single gummy worm into his mouth and sighs happily. “I’ve missed sugar.”
“Me too,” Keith agrees honestly, yanking off the head of a worm and chewing. “Shiro says I have a big sweet tooth.”
“I know, he told me.”
Keith stills and looks up at Lance, who is oblivious to Keith’s narrowed eyes because he’s busy dropping two more worms into his mouth. “What?”
“What?” Lance echoes, but the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile gives him away. “We talk about you all the time.”
“What,” Keith repeats.
Lance wiggles his eyebrows mischievously. “Oh, yeah. I’ve got loads of dirt on you.”
“Do not.”
“Do too. How else would I know that your favorite pair of boxers are hippo-printed?”
He bursts into laughter as Keith flings several worms at him with a mortified squeak. “Shut up! Why would he tell you that! Oh my gods, the next time I see him I swear I’ll—”
“What,” Lance interrupts, his giggles rendering him breathless. “Steal his car?”
The look on Keith’s face could probably scare away an entire pack of hellhounds, something that Lance seems to find delightfully amusing. His shoulders shake with uncontained laughter as Keith scowls, reaching across the space between them and snatching Lance’s bag right out of his hands. “Now you owe me both bags for speaking about things I told Shiro to never speak about.”
“Oh, come on! I worked so hard for those, you’re really gonna punish me for Shiro having a big fat mouth?”
“You say that like you don’t have a big fat mouth.”
“Rude!”
Keith throws another worm at him. Amazingly, by a combination of sheer luck and chance, Lance catches it in his mouth. For a moment they stare at each other in disbelief, and then they both burst into laughter. This inevitably leads to a worm-catching contest, although it’s difficult to truly compete when both parties have to do their part for the worms to be caught. Keith pretends to be reluctant to return Lance’s bag, but he wasn’t going to keep it anyway. Fifteen minutes later Keith’s mouth and cheeks are sticky with sugar and he can’t stop laughing, especially when Lance decides to stick a gummy worm up each nostril.
“Don’t eat those,” Keith pleads. To his relief, Lance doesn’t eat them, but he does make a big show about decapitating them (can you really decapitate a gummy worm if you don’t know which side is its head?).
He doesn’t quite remember when or how they wound up the way that they are, sprawled on their backs in the grass with their legs kicked over their knees as they watch the stars. The sky is impossibly clear, not a cloud in sight, moonlight casting shifting shadows as the grass rustles in the breeze around them. Every once in a while one of them will kick at the other’s foot, and the other will kick back, and they’ll snicker and maybe throw a few more gummy worms before falling back into a comfortable silence.
Keith has been stealing glances at Lance all night, but somehow he misses it when he shifts onto his side, head resting against his forearm. All he knows is that when he looks again he finds Lance already looking at him, a small, funny sort of smile on his face.
“What?” he asks, a little too defensively. Maybe a little self-consciously, because he’s not sure what he’s done to get Lance’s attention like that.
Lance’s smile grows and he chuckles quietly, shaking his head. “Nothing, I’m just—thinking. Dangerous, I know,” he finishes before Keith can say it for him.
“About what?” Keith asks instead.
“I dunno.” Lance averts his gaze then, picking at a clump of grass and twisting one of the blades between his fingers, expression guarded. It makes Keith’s stomach twist anxiously, thoughts suddenly racing as he tries to think of what he’s done wrong. Because that’s what the look on Lance’s face means, doesn’t it? Somewhere in between all the shared smiles and laughter, he’s made a mistake, their night is ruined, he’ll never want to do anything like this with Keith ever again.
Lance continues before he can panic too much though, bringing Keith’s whirling thoughts to a standstill. “Did you know?” Without context it seems like a vague and unusual question, yet Keith instantly understands. “Before you thought I could charmspeak, I mean. Like, did you…” Lance trails off as if he can’t seem to find the right words, but Keith hears the unspoken question he’s trying to ask.
Did you know already how you felt about me? Before all this? Before charmspeak was involved, real or not?
Were you really that upset that it was me?
Guilt crashes over Keith like a tidal wave, unforgiving and relentless. All that time he thought Lance was hurting him, when really, Keith was the one hurting Lance. Shiro always says that ‘communication is key’ in any relationship, platonic or romantic or otherwise, and Keith used to roll his eyes at him but clearly he’s right. Keith’s inability to communicate rather than jump to baseless conclusions is exactly what got them into such a mess in the first place. He never meant to make Lance feel like he was doing something wrong (or maybe, he did, but that was assuming that his baseless conclusions were indeed true, which they were not, and in hindsight make Keith feel ashamed for even entertaining them).
Really, Keith got lucky. He came out on the other side of this with a substantial amount of embarrassment, but also a date and maybe-possibly-hopefully future boyfriend. Meanwhile, Lance was left wondering if he was even someone worth loving at all.
“Of course I did,” Keith admits quietly, cheeks warming, but he pushes through it. “I’ve known for ages.”
“Then why… I mean, I know why you thought I was an Aphrodite kid, but—” Lance hesitates, blowing out a breath before glancing at Keith. “Why the charmspeak?”
Keith bites his lip, slowly dragging his hand through the grass and pulling back just before his fingers brush Lance’s. “I don’t know. I guess—part of me didn’t believe I could ever feel this way about anyone, or something. Like, at some point my feelings started to seem so excessive that when I heard about charmspeak for the first time, I was convinced that’s what was making them seem so extreme.”
“Extreme?”
“You know what I mean. I told you I’ve never done this before.” Keith swallows, purposely keeping his gaze lowered. “I’ve never really liked anyone.”
“Shocker.”
Keith kicks at Lance’s foot and Lance laughs softly as he kicks back. He looks dangerously pleased at the idea of Keith being so deeply infatuated with him, but there’s still an uncertain tilt to his mouth, the smallest crease in his brow like his question hasn’t quite been answered. Luckily Keith knows exactly what he’s looking for, and he makes sure that Lance is looking at him before he says:
“I’m glad it’s you.”
He means it. And from the way that the tightness in Lance’s smile melts away, he knows it’s what Lance needed to hear. Lance rests his cheek on the top of one hand, sliding the other through the grass like Keith had done before, only he doesn’t stop before his fingers brush Keith’s. “Me too.”
Keith bites his lip, trying not to think too much about the blush spreading across his cheeks as Lance hooks their pinkies, unhooks them, presses their fingertips together. He clears his throat, working himself up to ask his next question before he loses the courage. “When did you know?”
“Hm? Oh.” Lance’s hand stills, his palm warm where it rests on Keith’s. He chuckles a little as he pulls away to run his fingers through his hair, and the combined gesture is so unfamiliar that it takes a moment for Keith to realize that he’s embarrassed. “Right around the time that I stopped acting like a complete jerk to you, probably.”
“You weren’t that bad,” Keith tries.
“Yeah, I was,” Lance sighs, and Keith snorts. “Though to be fair, you were a jerk back sometimes and that made me feel a little better about it.”
Keith rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but he can’t really deny it. “I made it too easy for you to rile me up. I always liked you though, I just didn’t know what I did to make you not like me. Either way I was surprised you wanted anything to do with me at all.”
Lance’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“Because—” Keith falters, suddenly self-conscious. He averts his gaze and hunches in on himself, struggling to find the words to explain himself. “I mean, just… you’re—you. You’re popular, you’re good at everything, everyone likes you and you have a godly parent that cares at least enough about you to claim you. And I’m just. Me.”
“Just you?” Lance repeats incredulously, propping himself up on an elbow. “Dude, I was like, majorly jealous of you.”
Keith blinks at him, bewildered. “You were—of what?”
“I don’t know! Everything? Like—” Lance waves a hand in the air, stumbling over his words like he doesn’t know where to start. “You showed up to camp with Shiro and already had a place the second you got here, you know? He was my hero, I could hardly talk to him without forgetting what words were and then he found you and—I mean, you were automatically his favorite! You guys would joke around with each other like it was nothing and he would talk to you and train with you and you were good, powers or not. It all seemed so natural for you, meanwhile I’d already been here for six months working my butt off to be even half as good as you.”
Keith can hardly believe what he’s hearing. The idea of Lance, of all people, being jealous of him, of all people? It seems ludicrous. “At what? Swordfighting? Pick anything else and you would beat me just as often as I’d beat you. Pick archery and you’d destroy me, I can hardly even hold a bow properly. If anything, I was the one jealous of you.”
Lance clicks his tongue disbelievingly. “Well, now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“I’m serious! You fit in everywhere because people like you, not—not some fake, idealistic version of you. I had zero social skills but everyone pretended to like me anyway because I was associated with Shiro. Meanwhile you’re like, really genuine, and nice to everyone because that’s just how you are, and—stop looking at me like that.”
Lance laughs, lifting a hand in surrender. “I’m sorry, it’s just—you really do like me, huh?”
Keith drops his head back against the ground, bangs flopping out of his face. “I thought I’d made that perfectly clear,” he grumbles, then frowns when Lance makes a soft sort of noise in the back of his throat. “What?”
“Where’d you get this?”
“Huh? Where’d I get wh—” The rest of Keith’s words die in his throat when he looks over to find Lance much closer in proximity than before, reaching out to brush a few stray pieces of hair away from Keith’s forehead. He gently presses his fingers to the skin just above his eyebrow, and Keith is so focused on admiring the freckles spattered across his face and the bright color of his eyes even in just the moonlight that it takes a moment for him to realize what Lance is referring to. “Oh, yeah. It’s just a scratch, I’m sure I got it sometime during training.”
“Oh, because you’re so careful.”
“I always am.”
Lance sighs as he presses his palm flat against Keith’s forehead, exasperated but twice as fond. “I thought I told you to take it easy.”
Keith purses his lips. “I don’t remember you saying that specifically.”
“It was implied. Anyway, I can fix it if you want me to.”
Keith stills then, gaze flicking up to Lance. “Wait, you mean—are you sure? I thought… doesn’t it drain you? I don’t want to make you tired.”
“I don’t mind,” Lance insists, although he sounds hesitant about it, like he’s worried he’s crossing some sort of line. “It’s pretty small, I can handle it.”
He tentatively presses his thumb over the cut, eyes searching Keith’s face as if gauging his reaction. Keith only blinks, slowly, hoping that for once his expression is open and easy to read. He trusts Lance. “I don’t mind either,” he says honestly, resting a hand over Lance’s forearm and intentionally meeting his gaze. “As long as you’re sure.”
It must’ve been the reassurance Lance was looking for, because he smiles again and Keith can practically feel the way his entire body relaxes. He takes a deep breath, putting a small amount of pressure over the cut with his thumb. “Okay. Let me concentrate.” Keith nods minutely, but he doesn’t move his hand where it still rests on Lance’s arm, and Lance doesn’t make him. He closes his eyes and lets out the breath he’s been holding, tickling Keith’s cheek.
Keith has only seen Lance do this once before, after Allura got a nasty cut on her arm during a game of Capture the Flag. (Ares kids tend to go a little too over the top, and while normally Allura is virtually untouchable, she was taking on nearly a dozen of them by herself, and the fact that she only got hit once was more impressive than anything.) Lance wasn’t able to heal it completely; it takes a lot of effort and energy, and this power was relatively new to him, but he healed it enough that it didn’t scar like it should have. After that incident, he slept for a full twenty-four hours and then some. Ever since then he’s been much more conservative with the use of his power.
Even Lance doesn’t know exactly how his power works or why he has it. No child of Apollo has had true, genuine healing abilities for decades, maybe even centuries. He’s always described it to Keith like dreaming while awake—clearing his thoughts to rid his mind of any distraction that could hinder the process, visualizing the person or injury with as much detail as possible, summoning his own energy and imagining it flowing into them like a river from its source.
Like now, as warmth flows into and blooms throughout Keith’s entire body, quickly but comfortably in a way that forces Keith’s eyes to flutter closed. He can’t help the audible sigh that slips out of his mouth. It feels like drinking sunlight, like holding the sun in his palms, things that shouldn’t be possible but feel so inexplicably real that Keith is surprised he doesn’t burst into flames.
He opens his eyes and Lance is gazing down at him with an expression that makes the rhythm of Keith’s heart stutter, because it’s one he recognizes from all the time he’s known Shiro and Adam, from all the teasing he’s endured when they’ve caught him looking at Lance. It’s very familiar to him, but the difference is, it’s never been directed at him. He doesn’t move, too afraid of breaking the mutual trance that seems to have fallen between them. Even breathing seems like too much for such a delicate moment, but he’s already holding his breath without really meaning to.
When Lance speaks, there’s something about his voice that’s strained, as if Keith stole all the breath from his lungs. “I’m gonna do something.”
Keith swallows, because he has an idea of what might be coming next and he’s never hoped so strongly that he’s right. “Okay.”
Lance’s hand has drifted from Keith’s temple down to his cheek, fingers threading through his hair so naturally that Keith thinks Lance must be doing it unconsciously. He’s only half-aware of his own hand sliding up Lance’s arm to grip at his sleeve, desperate for something to steady himself as Lance murmurs: “And I’m doing it because I want to.”
“Okay,” Keith says again, voice hardly a whisper.
And that’s all the confirmation Lance needs to lean down and kiss him.
Keith has never kissed anyone before, and he’s not sure he ever could have prepared himself for what it would feel like. The way that Lance kisses him, Keith has a hard time believing that he’s never done this before either, but he has a feeling that has to do with the fact that he doesn’t know how it’s supposed to feel. Regardless, nothing about it certainly feels wrong, not when Lance is being so undeniably gentle that Keith finds himself clutching at his shirt in an effort to stay grounded. He’s so lightheaded he’s scared he might float away, his breathing ragged and uneven every time they come apart for air.
The tip of Lance’s nose brushes against Keith’s cheek with every tilt of his jaw, sending the army of butterflies in Keith’s stomach into a frenzy. The ghost of his touch lingers underneath the hem of Keith’s shirt, warm fingers pressing against the cool skin of his stomach, and Keith wraps an arm around the back of Lance’s neck to keep him there. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and he never wants it to end.
As desperate as Keith feels, the kiss is anything but. It’s slow but not hesitant, deliberate but nothing short of sweet, tentative but still intentional. Lance’s fingers are still buried in Keith’s hair, thumb gliding over his cheek. Keith doesn’t know what else to do other than cling to him. A sudden flare of courage surges through his chest and he dares to bite gently at Lance’s lower lip, causing him to break away with a gasp. At first Keith is horrified he’s done something wrong, but from the starstruck look on his face and the deep flush of his cheeks, it’s clear that’s not the case.
Lance never once looks away, and Keith feels like he’s going to fall apart under his gaze. “Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes.
The only reason Keith’s face doesn’t flush is because it’s already as flushed as it can get. He slowly disentangles his arms from around Lance and rests his hands against Lance’s chest, struggling to catch his breath. From the uneven, rapid beat of Lance’s heart against Keith’s fingertips, Lance must be having the same problem. Even so, Lance tugs at a strand of Keith’s hair as a mischievous smile spreads across his face. “You sure you’re not the Aphrodite kid?”
Keith involuntary stiffens at the same time that Lance does, having clearly realized the implications of what he’s just said a second too late. “I-I don’t know why I said that,” he stammers, eyes wide. “Keith, I’m sorry, I—”
“No,” Keith blurts, curling his fingers into the fabric of Lance’s shirt when he tries to pull away. “Sorry. Just—it’s fine, you didn’t say anything wrong.”
Lance relaxes, but only slightly, mouth still pulled down into an apologetic frown. Keith wishes he could just pull him back down and kiss it away, but he knows Lance won’t stop beating himself up over this that easily. “I know that’s a touchy subject for you,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fine,” Keith mumbles again, glancing off to the side. “It’s not your fault.”
Lance shifts again and this time Keith releases the hold on his shirt, watching as he sits back on his feet and rubs the back of his neck. “Still did a pretty good job of ruining the mood, though.”
“No, you didn’t— ugh.” Keith presses his palms against his eyes, struggling to swallow down his frustration. “This is why I don’t like talking about it.”
He rubs his eyes and drops his hands back into the grass with a sigh, but he can’t quite bring himself to look at Lance. The stars continue to wink in and out from the darkness overhead, unconcerned with everything that’s taking place below them. It must be nice, Keith thinks, to simply exist and not have to bother with things like gods, and feelings, and belonging. Lance is quiet for a moment, but before Keith can start worrying about having upset him, he lays down beside Keith and turns onto his side, head propped in his hand.
“Your value isn’t determined by your godly parentage, you know,” he murmurs.
Keith takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, eyes fluttering. “Sure feels like it sometimes,” he answers quietly.
“I know. People like to pretend it’s a big deal to be claimed by a god, but I think that has more to do with the fact that most of us have daddy issues so it makes us feel better about ourselves.” He grins at the sound of Keith’s startled laughter, moving to lean back on his hands. “You know I’m right. Like, I thought we all agreed that the gods suck, anyway.”
“Don’t say it so loud,” Keith snorts, smacking at Lance’s arm. “They’ll hear you.”
“Good,” Lance shrugs, and Keith rolls his eyes, still smiling. “I’m serious! Whether or not the gods claim you says nothing about your worth. I mean, look at Shiro! Dude’s the most powerful demigod alive and was claimed by Zeus the second he stepped foot in camp, but you of all people know how much he hates him. Zeus only claimed Shiro because of his power, not because he actually cares.”
Keith’s smile fades slightly, and he messes with the hem of his shirt before looking up at Lance and then away. “I guess, but… I’m the only unclaimed demigod here. It’s been months, everyone else is always claimed within a week. I just—” He chews on the inside of his cheek, searching for the right words. No matter how hard he tries, he can never seem to find them. “I know I shouldn’t care,” he continues slowly. “But it’s hard not to wonder what’s so wrong with me that they refuse to claim me, and only me, even while they continue to claim everyone else.”
He hesitantly looks up when he feels Lance rest a gentle hand on his arm. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he says firmly. “I can’t tell you why they won’t claim you, but I can tell you that whatever it is, it’s not your fault. This is entirely their decision, not yours. Whoever your godly parent is, they don’t deserve you.”
Keith searches Lance’s gaze for a moment as if he still expects there to be some sort of catch, but he knows he won’t find one. Everything about Lance is as genuine as ever, steady and honest and everything that Keith has always wished he could be for himself. Although, he supposes he doesn’t have to be any of those things, not when Lance is right here in front of him. Maybe Shiro was onto something when he kept telling Keith he didn’t have to do everything alone.
He finally shifts over onto his side to mirror Lance, glancing down toward the space in between them. “You’re right,” he says softly. “I’ve never really talked to anyone about this, so… thanks.”
Lance smiles, playfully poking at Keith’s cheek. “Anytime. I just wish there was more I could do.”
“I think you’ve done plenty for me tonight,” Keith answers with a chuckle, then pauses. Lance raises an eyebrow as he hums. “Actually… there is one more thing you could do.”
It takes a moment, but Lance makes the connection and subsequently gasps. “Keith! Are you flirting with me?”
“Should I not be?”
Lance clicks his tongue, grinning. “Well, I didn’t say that.”
Keith laughs as Lance wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer, hands warm and solid against his back. He bites his lip to hold back a smile, lightly settling his fingers on Lance’s cheek and taking the chance to shamelessly study his freckles. Lance’s smile is as big and as bright as the sun, and just as warm when Keith tilts forward to kiss it.
It’s somehow even gentler than the first, slow and delicate and sickeningly sweet. The two of them can’t seem to stop smiling through each kiss, all the previous nerves and uncertainty from the beginning of the night long since forgotten. Keith can’t help but giggle when Lance pulls away only to continue pressing kisses to every part of his face he can reach, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose.
“So,” Lance starts, pecking the corner of Keith’s mouth one more time. “Thoughts on our first date?”
“Hmmm.” Keith scrunches his nose, pretending to mull it over. “I don’t know, I think I’m still getting a feel for the whole dating thing. We should do this again, preferably sometime really soon.”
“Is this your way of asking me on a second date?”
“Maybe. Will there be more gummy worms?”
Lance grins, eyes glittering with mirth. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Then it’s a yes from me,” Keith murmurs, and tilts forward to meet Lance in the middle with a smile.