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It's cold.
Keith shudders as the wind blows, lapping sharp at his ears. It renders his fingers numb and his nose pink, and Lance looks at him in a sort of funny way. Sends him a glance that's too endearing, too warm, too much. His pretty, blue eyes faux sparkle beneath the stars.
“What time is it?” Keith asks, just to say something. Just to use his voice, to keep it from crackling apart beneath Lance's fond gaze. Too much, too little, not enough, all at once. Lance has always been everything, simultaneously- overwhelmingly captivating.
The younger boy shrugs, shoulder nudging against Keith's as he supplies, “Sky's turning orangey-pink. Guess that means it's time for bed.”
Keith's not sure where they are. A planet here, another there. Just some place to spend the night, because the castle needs to be repaired, recreated, and sleeping in their Lions has never been comfortable. Keith loves Red, loves Blue, loves all of them, but they're not home. They don't compare to the warmth he feels with Lance next to him, arms pressed together.
“Those alien dudes were so nice when we landed,” Lance muses, unprovoked. He's got this adorable habit of thinking out loud, and Keith is blessed enough to get to hear everything. Bad jokes, and cheesy one-liners, and heartfelt shit, too. The good stuff.
“Can't believe they just gave us a place to stay,” the younger continues. “I swear, 's only because Allura is so damn charming.”
Keith hums. Maybe Lance is right. It doesn't matter- he doesn't care- because, while the other Paladins plus Coran are off sleeping in foreign beds, Keith is here. Here, as in, atop a hill covered in something that feels like grass, but is a dull pink. Here, next to Lance, who looks up at the sky with inquiry twinkling in his eyes that Keith rarely sees.
Here is synonymous with home.
“The town seems quieter, now,” Lance says, glancing over his shoulder at the streets that were bustling just a few hours ago. “Everyone must be heading to bed.”
“Suppose we should do the same,” says Keith.
“Nah,” Lance shakes his head. He smiles, careful, lips barely upturned. It's so soft, so easy, and a pang of something strange (love, love, love) stings his heart. “I wanna stay out here just a bit longer.”
“But I'm cold,” Keith whines- pouts- as the wind blows hard. His cropped jacket is doing nothing to help him keep the warmth in. “Can't feel my fingers.”
“Give me your hand, nerd,” Lance chastises, palm upturned, awaiting. Keith stares for a second, a moment, a while, before Lance clears his throat impatiently. “Come on. I don't want you to freeze.”
Keith relents. His raises his arm, slaps his hand down atop of Lance's, and just watches. His entire body stills as the younger boy cups Keith's hand between both of his own, brings it up to his mouth, and huffs hot air against it.
It shouldn't make him shudder (it does anyway).
Lance is pretty.
Keith knows this, has always known this, has never forgotten , not even for a second. He is long, sharp limbs, and tanned skin, and the bluest eyes Keith has ever seen. He is pretty in every unconventional sense of the word. Awkward, but endearing. Too much, and not enough.
(Everything).
“I think it's all warmed up now, hm?” Lance whispers, rough, husky. He's still holding Keith's hand, clutching it close to his chest. “Do you feel better?”
Yes, Keith wants to scream. Yes. Don't let go.
He nods. “I'm good. Thanks.”
Lance drops his hand a second later, and Keith deflates, shoulders falling. He wants to reach out, to twine their fingers. Lance's are longer than his own, softly padded, nice, and Keith aches. Yearns for them everywhere, anywhere, all at once.
“Keith,” Lance starts, so soft the older boy almost doesn't hear it. Nearly mistakes it for the wind. “Keith, when you were gone, with Krolia, I- shit. I missed you.”
Keith's brain is telling him to be surprised. He should be surprised, but instead, his heart fucking flutters, and his stomach swoops. Lance missed him. And Keith, who spent so much time away, missed Lance even more.
He missed Lance. When they first got thrown into space together, as a team, he never thought he'd be saying that, because Lance is unbearable. Annoying, obnoxious, flirtatious, too much .
Everything.
Keith loves him.
Keith loves him, and Lance must know, if the way he looks at Keith is anything to go by. Foolish as Lance is, he isn't stupid. He has always been able to read Keith better than anyone besides Shiro, maybe. Between a rivalry- a burning hatred that started seemingly out of nowhere- and a blooming friendship that also developed unexpectedly, Lance has gotten to know most of Keith.
Keith sort of wants to give Lance everything.
“'S dumb,” he ends up muttering, flushed, burning, with his head dipped low so that Lance can't see his red cheeks. “How could you miss me? I wasn't gone that long.”
“Yeah right,” Lance scoffs, leg nudging against Keith's. “You were gone long enough for me to notice this- this ache. This emptiness. A Keith-shaped hole in my heart.”
Keith snorts, and playfully shoves Lance's shoulder. He's a dork- cheesy, silly, embarrassing, and Keith-
loves him.
So he says something akin to, “I missed you more,” but it's mumbled low, nearly unintelligible.
Lance catches it, anyway. A smile blossoms on his face so big it cuts the pink sky in two. He blinks in the too-big space between them, and reaches out to place the palm of his hand against Keith's cheek. It's warm, but the older boy shudders.
“Let me try something,” Lance pleads. His eyes burn with a kind of sincerity that makes Keith's bones ache. “Let me show you something new.”
And all Keith can do is nod, nuzzle into the curve of Lance's hand, and close his eyes.
Warm lips press against his own. Chaste, close-mouthed at first, because Keith hasn't done this in a very long time, and never at all with Lance. Safe, careful, because Lance was right to say that this is new.
The wind blows again, harsh against Keith's too-cold skin, and he trembles, mouth falling open to let out a little gasp. Lance takes this opportunity to slot their lips together properly, slick, wet, and that's it. That's all the self-restraint Keith has left in him.
His hands fumble, tangle in Lance's brown hair as best they can. It’s longer than it was before Keith left, almost sweeping his eyebrows, and it suits him. Keith tugs on it, sharp, to get him closer, and it works. Lance grabs a fistful of Keith's jacket, and yanks until the older boy is climbing into his lap.
“Go slow,” Keith says, because he wants to remember this. Because Lance is everything, and it has taken him a long time to realize as much. Because he's been missing out on more than he can even bare to think about.
“We don't have time to go slow,” Lance gasps, out of breath, lips kissed a pretty shade of red. They're still out in the open, after all, perched atop a hill, no less.
“So at least pretend like you mean it, then,” he asks, pleads. Lance must sense the desperation in his tone. He slows down, expression soft, and kisses the corner of Keith's mouth.
“I do mean it,” Lance insists. “How can you say something like that? I said I missed you, Keith. I-”
“You talk too much,” Keith cuts him off. His voice is blunt as he continues with, “You get on my fucking nerves, and you flirt with Allura because you know it makes me jealous. You know I like you, Lance, so quit playing-”
“I like you too,” Lance murmurs. “Keith- you're an idiot, dude, I've always liked you. 'M kissing you now, aren't I? I wouldn't do that just to mess with you, man. It's a little gay-”
“Shut up,” Keith grins, bright, as he presses his lips to Lance's forehead. “Shut up, man. Kiss me more.”
Lance does as he's asked, effortlessly, hands cupped around Keith's face so tight, to keep him in place, to keep him close, close, closer. He licks into the older boy's mouth messily, and there's too much tongue, too much Lance, but it's perfect. Keith whines, low in the base of his throat, heart stilling as Lance's hands slide down to his waist to grip hard. His fingers dig and dig, and Keith hopes they'll bruise. He needs them to.
He rolls his hips down just as Lance kisses along his jawline. The both of them moan soft, clinging to each other as close as they can. Lance scrapes teeth along Keith's jaw, down his throat, near his Adam's apple. His cock twitches in his pants, half-hard and interested, and Lance knows. Encourages him, even.
Keith follows his instinct. It's what he's good at- what he knows best. He ruts down into Lance's lap, ass dragging against the younger boy's cock, while his own nudges Lance's abdomen, and it's positively shameless. It shouldn't be enough to get him off, but it will be, and he knows this. Lance knows it just as well.
“Promise you won't leave again,” Lance moans, breathy, as he pulls back from Keith's neck to look up at him. He doesn't break his gaze, not even when Keith rolls their hips together particularly hard. “Keith,” he presses, “Promise.”
“Yeah,” Keith nods quickly, hands grabbing fists of Lance's jacket to keep him close. He works his hips faster, cock straining against his pants, leaking slick everywhere. “I promise. Lance- please.”
“I got you,” Lance promises. His hand snakes down between them, fumbling against Keith's thigh for a moment before he palms at the older boy's length through the material of his pants. “Come on, babe. I got you.”
Keith comes with a start. He lurches forward, slumped against Lance's chest, and spills into his pants. Come seeps through the fabric, wetting Lance's hand, and it feels a lot more primal than it should. Lance looks fond, happy, but he hasn't come yet. Keith spaces out, feels like jelly, but he rolls his hips down again, ass dragging against Lance's cock.
It doesn't take long after that. Keith sucks a purple mark into Lance's neck, and the younger boy comes so hard he trembles. They stay attached, unmoving, for a long while after that. The wind is brutal, but Keith ignores it in favor of curling in closer to Lance's chest, hands slipping into the folds of his deep, green jacket.
Lance is the first to break the silence. Keith isn't surprised. Maybe he should be.
“I love you,” he whispers. It's earnest, and Keith's hands shake. “You know that.”
“I do,” Keith eventually agrees. “You're easy to read.”
Lance smiles. It's sort of infinite, the way it lights up his face. Keith wants to kiss him, so he does, and when they pull apart, his stomach swims. He wonders if Lance feels it, too.
This time, it's Lance who asks, “What time is it?”
Keith shrugs. The sky is a burnt orange now. There's no sound coming from the town below, and every single shop light has been shut off.
“'S time for us to go to bed, I suppose,” Keith answers.
The younger only nods, content to help Keith off of his lap. They stand together, hands nudging, before Lance links their pinkies. A smile tugs at Keith's lips.
“Those little alien dudes gave us separate rooms to sleep in, you know,” Lance says, “But I think we should just sleep in yours. I know how you get cold at night. I guess I could play hero and warm you up.”
“Okay,” Keith agrees, easily. Would follow Lance to the edges of the universe, if he asked sweet enough. Because Lance is annoying, and obnoxious, and too much, but he's Keith's. He's-
everything.