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Keith stares at the letter like it's booby-trapped to explode into his face at first contact. It really makes James wonder what the fuck he got up to out here in space before the Paladins crash-landed on Earth.
"It's not going to bite you," he says and thrusts the letter forward. "It's not even for you."
Keith seems to relax minimally, and takes the letter and turns it around. "Hunk? What?"
Yes, that's a great question, one James has pondered a lot in the past few hours. He still can't believe he got dragged into this ridiculousness.
"I have a friend who likes your friend," he enunciates carefully like he was instructed to do. The uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades is either because of the new shirt he bought yesterday or because Veronica is staring at him across the Atlas' dining hall. "That's from him to, well, him."
"Okay," Keith says slowly. "And why are you giving it to me?"
"You're supposed to give it to your friend, and then he's supposed to give you something to give to me and then I'll give it to my friend."
It sounds exactly as stupid coming out of James' mouth as it did when Veronica said it. It's no wonder Keith looks at him like he's gone insane.
James sighs. "Don't even ask. Just do it, please."
"Sure, since you asked so nicely." Keith's lips quirk into a small smile. "Are we still on tonight?"
"Unless something attacks us again, yeah." Shit, James really hopes he didn't just invite a whole fleet of space pirates on them. Or druids. Those are even worse. "Eight p.m.?"
"Works for me." Keith nods and walks away with the letter and, quite possibly, Kinkade's hopes and dreams.
They take a break around nine p.m., collapsing onto Keith's bed in a sweaty heap. It's not exactly nice because they're sticky and too overheated to even touch comfortably, but, well. It's kind of nice and James takes what he can get, and anyway, it'll be better once they cool down a little.
In a weird and roundabout way, it makes him think of the letter. "Did you give it to him?"
"What?" Keith mumbles into the pillow before rolling over onto his back and turning to look at James. His hair is a shaggy mess and James reaches out to push a stray lock behind his ear. "The letter? Yeah, I did."
"So?"
"So there's another letter and a small box in my coat pocket. Hope you didn't step on it."
James barely hears the last part because his mind goes from a question mark to an engagement ring in two seconds flat. Wow, those two sure move fast.
Whatever kind of face he's making, it makes Keith snort out a laugh. "It's a cupcake, not a- Why would you even think of that?"
At least his face is already red, James tells himself. At least the literal afterglow is useful for something. Still, an explanation would be good right about now before Keith gets the wrong idea.
"Overexposure to sappy romances. Kinkade and Veronica just binged on old movies. Like, black and white and analog old. They cried." No one can prove that James shed a tear or two too, so as far as he's concerned, it never happened. "That's where the letter stuff is coming from."
"Seems overly complicated to me," Keith says, arching his back into a stretch that draws James' eye like a magnet. "But Hunk liked it."
"Good." Very good because it'll make Kinkade happy and hopefully gets Veronica off James' back. She's been haunting him about updates every damn hour. "You're not tired yet, are you?"
Keith really does move inhumanly fast. He's crouching over James before James can even blink, face so close that James would only have to crane his neck up a little to kiss him.
"No," Keith says. "Not even close."
His hair is very soft when James buries his fingers into it and draws him down.
"The cupcake was a success," James reports a few days later over a cup of horrible coffee, pushing another letter across the table. It's thicker than the last one. "He really liked the raspberry-ish heart on top of it. For the love of the universe, don't ever tell me what it was actually made of."
There are no raspberries on the Atlas, but now there's about a billion pictures of the cupcake from various angles, and James is pretty sure that Veronica filmed the actual eating process. James had had to leave before that. It was getting way too embarrassing to be in the same room with them.
Keith picks up the letter. "What's in this?"
"Photos, I think." Hopefully they're not nude photos because there's only so much James is willing to do for his moronic friends and dealing porn is crossing the line. "I don't know, it's not my letter."
"If it was your letter, what would it say?"
James chokes on his coffee. "What?"
"I didn't mean a letter to me." Keith rolls his eyes and looks down at the letter. He's blushing a little. "I mean, what do people write into these? I've never really thought about it."
"Uh, it's not like I've ever written or gotten one," James says. He's never wanted to either, but he's maybe starting to see the appeal now. It has to be the sudden exposure to bad influences like the movies and Kinkade's wooing attempts. Or just Keith. Could be that, too. "You just, I don't know, tell the recipient how much you like them? In the movies, they usually quote poetry too."
"Roses are red, violets are blue?" Keith meets his eyes. "That kind of stuff?"
"Something like that." Something more mature than nursery rhymes, but if that's Keith's only point of reference, okay. Sad as fuck, but okay. James can work with that. "I think-"
The shipwide alarm is almost loud enough to burst an eardrum. They're already running towards the hangar when the Captain announces that yes, it's space pirates again. A whole fleet. Figures.
It takes James twelve hours to get back into his room. It takes Keith twelve days.
When the alarms blare again and it turns out that this time, it's the Voltron returning, James has to fight his way through the crowd. Most of the crew is in the hangar, watching as the Paladins step out of their Lions.
That the Captain grabs Keith into a bone-crushing hug doesn't surprise anyone, but Kinkade yanking Hunk down and kissing him sure as hell does. The cheering doubles in volume.
James stands at the edge of the crowd, nails digging into his palms. The hug goes on and on, and it's not like James expected anything else. Finally Keith detaches himself and the Captain moves on to flatten the other Paladins against his chest.
"You made it back," James says when Keith stops in front of him. It's not even in the top ten of the things he wants to say. "Where were you?"
Keith shrugs. "Floating around, mostly."
James translates floating around into and also fighting against aliens, possibly the druids or Honerva again, we're only in one piece because we actually are that good because that's probably closer to the truth. The Paladins have an infuriating habit of downplaying mortal danger and describing the most mind-boggling actions like they're totally normal things that happen to everyone every day. They're weird like that.
"Must have been boring."
"Yeah, but I did get some paperwork done. Reading too."
It's on the tip of James' tongue to say something mean about that, but he manages to keep it in. Maybe later when he's used to having Keith around again .
"I also gave Hunk the letter your friend gave to you to give to me to give to him." They turn to look at the still ongoing and very public display of affection. "I think he liked it."
"Good for him."
A few hours later, James is straddling Keith on a bed that, at this point, is just Keith's only by a technicality. James spends more time in it than he does in his own.
He covers Keith's eyes with his hand because there's no way he can do this if Keith is looking at him and says, "I was thinking- Poetry."
"Right now?"
"No, you idiot, while you were away. So listen." James clears his throat. He's so shit at this that the only consolation is that Keith would be even worse. "Your armor is red, your bruises are blue, you're not sweet at all but I still- I still-"
Keith's grip on his hips tightens and James can almost feel bruises blooming under his own skin.
"Tell me," Keith says. He sounds desperate. "Please."
James does.
And some time after that, when he's getting up to get a damp towel, Keith picks up his tablet from the table, fiddles with it for a bit and thrusts it into James' hands.
"Here. For you." He looks away, red to the tips of his ears. "Don't laugh."
Keith stays in the bathroom for so long that James is almost starting to worry. When he comes back, it's with a towel twisted between his hands and shoulders hunched like he's waiting for it to hurt.
"Was this your paperwork?" James asks quietly, clutching the tablet. Wild druids couldn't pry it from his fingers.
"Yeah, I- Yeah."
"I'm not laughing. I'm not. I'm-" He's crossing the floor and pulling Keith into another hug, apparently. Gentler than the one the Captain delivered because James is feeling kind of fragile right now and maybe, hopefully, definitely, Keith is too. "I still said it first."
"I think your friend said it first. Or mine," Keith mumbles into his hair.
James holds him a bit tighter. "Shut up. They don't count."