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He allowed himself a moment to run warm, hesitant fingers along Lance’s jaw before gripping his chin and turning his face back toward him. His eyes were red, as if he were about to cry. Or as if he had been crying before Keith had stumbled upon him and then they’d begun arguing.
But now the anger was seeping out of him as he realized his teammate- his self-proclaimed rival; the cocky, bull-headed jerk- was trembling. Fine tremors shaking his lanky, swimmer’s body. Keith thought that he even looked... fragile, like that. He found himself surprised seeing Lance so vulnerable.
Lance was resilient. He always bounced back with jokes and stupid comments and flirting, even at the worst of times. It was difficult to see him this way, festering in his insecurities. Insecurities Keith hadn’t even realized he’d had.
Keith repeated himself, more softly this time, like he was soothing an animal that didn’t trust him anymore, “This team cannot function without you, Lance.”
Keith forced himself to hold eye contact with Lance, so he knew he was serious. He could see Lance trying to look away; brush it off; take back his emission so that he could return to their casual air of “rivalry”. It was frustrating to see Lance debating with himself about opening up. Keith had known Lance didn’t like him at first because of something that happened back at the Garrison that Keith couldn’t remember. He knew he was the last person Lance would ever want to confide in. But he’d watch him open up to everyone else aboard the castle-ship. Hell, he was even more open to that alien girl who tied him to a tree and stole his lion. What was her name? Nima? Nyma?
Anyway.
He knew he wasn’t exactly a pro at comforting people. But he’d thought that he and Lance had finally bonded enough that they could be friends. Were friends. He felt stupid, now, thinking that maybe their friendly banter had become just that: friendly. Now, as Lance back away from him with a scoff, half-feigned indignance in the twist of his mouth, walls being thrown up around him like a barrier to keep Keith an arms length away. Miles away.
He clenched and unclenched his jaw and let his hands fall back to his sides, balled into fists.
He was still learning to keep his anger in check.
Things were already a mess, not even a week since Shiro’s.... disappearance. Keith had lost sleep trying to map out ways to find him, pacing his room at all hours of the night when he wasn’t actively searching for him. It gave him a terrible nostalgia of just months before, holed up in that stupid cabin in the middle of that godforsaken desert, chasing an energy he didn’t even know how he’d sensed. He’d taken to sneaking into Black’s hangar when it was too unbearable to sleep, hoping that maybe she could tell him, maybe there would be some way, through their shared bond with Shiro, she’d be able to show Keith where he was. But he’d never gotten an answer, and now, more than ever he felt pressured to fill the gap that was left behind.
They hadn’t discussed yet who would pilot the black lion- it was too soon. They were all holding out the hope that Shiro would appear suddenly; battered and exhausted, but alive.
But Keith’s Head kept going over what Shiro had said when they had crash landed on that planet alone, Shiro wounded, talking as if he would die- and he couldn’t help but wonder if somehow he’d known all along.
He bit into his lip and steeled himself. If Shiro really was gone, and he had to lead Voltron, then he needed to make sure the team, even Lance, could rely on him.
Through clenched teeth, he managed to grind out, “Listen, Lance. I know I’m not the kind of person you usually get along with. That we butt heads every five minutes because you can’t manage to shut your mouth,” he couldn’t help but let the jab slip. Lance looked defensive, but Keith cut him off before he could interject. “But our team can’t function if one of us is missing and the rest of us shut down. We can’t fix this-“ his voice cracked a little and the words find Shiro hung in the air around them, “-if even one of us breaks down now. You are part of Voltron’s support system, Lance. Quiznak knows why, but Voltron literally cannot stand against anything without you.” Lance stared at him for a moment before-oh quiznak- before bursting out with the laugh. Keith took a half step back, confused. He felt his face flush a bit with annoyance.
Why is he laughing? Did I say something weird?
“That... Did you mean to make a joke? Oh my quiznak. Voltron can’t stand without me because I’m a leg. Oh my God, Mullet.”
Lance’s face contorted but Keith couldn’t tell if it was in pain or mockery or what. He tried not to panic as he attempted to figure out what exactly was happening to Lance. He really didn’t think it had been funny. He’d been trying to be serious. Dazed from the unexpected shift in atmosphere, Keith wondered if it was like Hunk’s hysteria when he got nervous.
Lance looked up within an amused expression which fell as he registered the shock on Keith’s face.
“No way you didn’t even mean to make that joke? Keith, buddy, I was convinced for a moment there that you’d made some progress and lightening up, but it seems you’ve disappointed once again.”
Keith felt his hands heat up. He couldn’t believe he tried to cheer Lance up only to be laughed at. He bit at the inside of his cheek and all but spat, “take it however you want.Just don’t fall apart on us, Sharpshooter. We don’t need dead weight.” His jaw tightened painfully, “I’m going to go train now.”
What he really meant was that he was going to spend his time more productively, looking for Shiro. He couldn’t handle the sudden 180 the conversation had taken. That he’d tried to set aside his own stupid grief only to be made into a joke.
Lance’s mirth went away completely. Keith missed the way Lance’s ears had gone red at the nick name Sharpshooter-no matter how much vehemence it had been filled with- because he’d already begun to turn away.
“Oh- c’mon. Keith. Keith, wait. Buddy. Look,” a tanned hand came down on his shoulder as he retreated. Startled and agitated, he spun around, grabbing the hand and twisting it.
“What.”
Lance winced, but didn’t pull away, a challenge in his eyes. “Thanks.”
“.... what.”
“Y’know. Thanks for all that junk about the team needing me. Everyone has their thing, you know? Hunk’ super smart and a great engineer and he’s got great hugs. He’s the best cook and the best friend anyone could ask for. Pidge is some type of mega-genius prodigy with all that techie mumbo jumbo. She made a cloaking device for her giant alien robot lion. That’s practically a superpower. Even your weird Galra heritage has it’s perks. You’re literally part of a band of space ninjas, Keith. I mean, those Blade of Marmora guys are really serious- that’s gotta be some like, family trait, I swear- but without them we would have never come up with the plan to wreck Zarkon. And uh, we couldn’t have found them if it weren’t for your dumb knife and your alien blood or whatever. I just... worry sometimes that being a good shot isn’t enough. I don’t want to be just comic relief, y’know?”
Keith’s grip loosened considerably,but he didn’t let go of Lance’s wrist. He couldn’t focus on Lance directly, instead choosing to focus on the places where their skin met. Pale, too warm hands against cool, light brown flesh. He could feel Lance’s pulse faintly against his fingertips and thought about how their lion’s elements should have been switched. Sure, he was short tempered, but in reality it was really he that was cold and Lance? Lance was full of warmth.
“Well, you are kind of a joke,” Keith mumbled. He could feel Lance’s eyes on him. “But you did emerge from a coma and shoot Sendak which- I cannot believe you don’t remember that- but it was-“ he choked on the word cool and let it die in his throat.
Abort, abort.
“It was what?” Lance grinned, catlike, and moved closer as if by making Keith uncomfortable, he could force him to spit it out.
“Nothing.”
“Nope. Nonononononono, Keith, my dude. You were totally about to say c-“
“Shut up. No. You’re delusional. Look, I’m going to train now. Let go of me,” he said without his usual bite. Despite himself, he felt a small grin playing at his lips.
“You were still going to say it. Nothing can convince me otherwise. Keith, hothead, pilot of the red lion, stupid mullet Kogane, thinks I’m totally cool,” Lance laughed, “Also, you’re the one who’s holding onto my wrist, so it should be me telling you to let go.” Still, he didn’t try to pull away.
Keith’s face reddened maddeningly and he huffed, dropping Lance’s arm. For once, Lance had gotten the better of him and from the spark in his deep blue eyes, Keith could tell he was enjoying it way too much.
In a feeble attempt to hide his embarrassment, Keith strode away without another word. He found that it was surprisingly hard not to stoop to Lance’s level and stomp childishly. As the castle’s automatic doors opened up to the hallway and Keith made his escape, Lance called out through a fit of laughter, “I’ll tell Hunk to leave you some of his specialty space goo!”
It wasn’t a solution. Keith knew that within minutes he’d be back to planning out search routes for Shiro. That Lance would probably still worry about his place on the team, as if he didn’t realize how much they needed him. He knew that both of their words had only put a bandaid on a gaping wound. But hearing Lance’s laugh echo around in his skull even as he approached the training deck; staring down at the fingertips that had been pressed to Lance’s pulse? For now, it was enough to convince him that he could make it through all this. Having to find Shiro all over again, the prospect of leading the team, defeating Zarkon, all of it still felt bigger than him. But it didn’t feel quite as painful. After all, this time, he wasn’t alone.