Chapter Text
He has no idea why he agreed to this.
Perhaps it's Shiro's never-ending and usually unsuccessful video-call attempts or this stupid emptiness in his heart that keeps him awake most nights. He doesn't quite know.
Keith isn't exactly a Best Friend of the Year contender.
His effort to stay in touch with the rest of the Paladins was, well, poor, but it worked at first. Everyone was busy trying to make sense of their new reality; they were no longer just regular Earth teenagers, but a group of superheroes who saved the galaxy - and each of them acknowledged that there was often just no time or energy to keep in touch.
They all tried, though, and Keith could easily drown in his own guilt for never being the one to initiate contact.
Surprisingly, Hunk was the one who called him as frequently as Shiro. He'd share tales about all the intergalactic political events he attended, spreading joy and pleasure with his incredible cooking skills and undeniable ability to unite people. Hunk wasn't one to brag, at least not as much as Lance, but the pride he felt from contributing to improving some of the more strained relations between various alien races was something he couldn't help but talk about all the time.
Pidge wouldn't call as often as she'd send Keith video messages, which was still a lot given how insanely busy she was. Some videos showed her in the midst of developing a brand-new type of A.I., while others featured her rambling on about Chip, the New Defenders, and countless other projects born inside her brilliant brain. And some were just her playing silly pranks on Matt and her parents. The vast majority were complete chaos, with unstable video and incomprehensible audio.
Lance didn't call at all. Instead, he'd write long messages to Keith about his family's struggle to return to normalcy following Sendak's invasion of Earth. He'd share how they decided to rebuild their house exactly where it stood and how everyone was just so happy to have him back, right where he belongs. Sometimes, he'd send Keith short messages sharing his lower moments, when thinking about Allura was too much, when all the shit they went through would come back to him at night in the form of the nastiest nightmares. Other times, he'd ask Keith simple questions like, "How's the Galra Empire?" or "Did your mother finally hook up with Kolivan?" or "Do you take care of yourself?" or "Do you miss me sometimes?"
Eventually, the messages stopped coming. That was understandable. Keith didn't blame them, as he only responded to some of their messages or didn't answer at all.
"They understand you're busy, Keith. What you're doing is important," Shiro would tell him over a video call from the comfort of his soft couch, with his loving husband glued to his arm. "They're not going to hold it against you."
They should.
Sometimes, Keith could hardly believe that Shiro, that prodigious Takashi Shirogane, was out of battle for years and living a normal, stress-free life in his lovely house in Florida, far, far away from space and close to the ocean. That's not to say he didn't deserve it.
Shiro was undoubtedly the glue that kept Keith somewhat connected to their team, keeping him up to date on everything that was going on in their lives, always sharing news and passing on invitations. Keith didn’t even want to count how many of them he straight up ignored without as much as a proper excuse.
After all, he was a busy man.
Things became even more challenging for him after the Daibazaal election appointed him as one of the Galactic Coalition's representatives. Time was no longer a luxury for him. He had responsibilities as a politician, working tirelessly to unite the Galra Empire and transforming the Blade of Marmora into a humanitarian relief organization. He couldn't just sit back and relax, knowing that space wasn't safe or organized. Not yet.
With so much work on his plate, it was inevitable that he would be absent from their annual reunion meetings for years.
He doesn't know why he agreed to this.
Shiro called his intergalactic communicator, a small attempt by Pidge to force Keith into staying in touch, and grinned at the camera when he realized he had managed to reach Keith on the first try. Shiro stopped beating around the bush almost immediately and mentioned the approaching reunion, just as Keith suspected was the reason for the call. After a brief exchange of mutual updates on their lives - Shiro has taken up a new hobby and is considering a road trip through Europe, while Keith has just signed the millionth peace treaty between another two alien races that eventually agreed that being hostile to each other was pointless - he shared the details of their annual meeting with an expectant look and an encouraging smile.
"I need you to consider joining us this time," Shiro's voice is light, but Keith can detect a hint of tension in it. “It’s been 4 years since you were with us. It would be good for you to see the others.”
"I don't think I can simply abandon my responsibilities, Shiro." It's not really a lie. Keith is flooded with papers. He quickly ignores the wave of annoyance in his mind from wondering how he ended up straining his wrist with a pen rather than his sword. He's relieved Shiro didn't mention this.
Shiro scratches behind his neck. "Yeah, about that. I spoke to Krolia and Kolivan before. You are officially relieved of your duties as a representative."
What.
"You got me fired?" Keith's voice is a little louder than he had intended. Shiro laughs sheepishly and tries to defend himself by waving his hands in front of him. "How is that funny?"
"I didn't get you fired, Keith," Shiro's voice is calm, and Keith honestly despises the man's patience and assertiveness. "I contacted Krolia earlier to see if they could let you off the hook for a couple of days for our reunion, and she told me they were going to release you from your position anyway. I'm sorry to be the bearer of, uh, sad news."
“I’m not sad, just irritated,” Keith mutters, more to himself. He feels like hanging up on the call and storming into his mother’s office demanding an explanation. “Why the hell would they do that?”
He doesn’t miss the concern that appears in Shiro’s eyes. Great. He knows whatever is about to be said will annoy him. Shiro remains silent for a moment, clearly searching for appropriate words to avoid agitating Keith, which irritates him even more.
"Keith, you haven't visited Earth in over four years. It's almost like you're avoiding it." Keith looks at Shiro incredulously as the man says simply, his eyes as warm as ever, and as worried as Keith hates to see. How is that a problem now? He's not wasting time flying from planet to planet collecting exotic plants to make galactic cocktails. He's actually doing something significant, contributing to the galaxy's future and making it a better place. He's confident in his cause, even if it means sitting on his ass for hell knows how many hours a day and signing meaningless paperwork, because if he isn't confident in his job, he doesn't have anything else to believe in.
Brushing off the heat building in his chest, he shrugs and rolls his eyes, too exhausted to argue. Putting on a tough act is usually easier.
“Yeah, and? I'm rather busy.”
“Keith,” Shiro insists, his voice carrying that familiar tone. The one filled with understanding and affection. After all the years he spent with Shiro, Keith should've learned that the considerate man will always try his best to reach him. But sometimes, just sometimes, he wishes he could be left alone. It’s what he deserves, anyway. None of the affection and kindness he usually receives.
"You're going to be angry about this, but I'm going to tell you whether you like it or not," Shiro says, his voice louder now. Dancing around Keith's temper is quickly forgotten, and Keith briefly considers whether he prefers Shiro to always go straight to the point and piss him off on the spot, or to set the stage for Keith's inevitable anger outburst by treating him like some kind of lost cause who needs to be reminded how to be a social human being. "I'm worried about you. So is your mother, and frankly, everyone. You throw all of these responsibilities and obligations on your back and continue to drift further and further away from everything else, not realizing that it's eating you alive. I'm sure you just love sitting at your desk."
“You don't know shit about my job,” Keith grumbles, his voice lacking real bite, his anger still waiting to emerge. Shiro smiles.
“I know that you're wasting yourself on things that don't need it anymore,” Shiro says, squinting his eyes as if ready to analyze and say things Keith doesn't want to hear about himself. Keith feels a strong urge to switch off his camera to give Shiro less material. “The galaxy is safe, Keith. Other than a few harmless clashes between minor races, no one is in any danger. At least not on a large scale. Krolia told me that monitoring some of the most rebellious planets and negotiating peace treaties is all you’ve been doing for the past two years. Hardly a fitting job for you, don’t you think?”
Keith hates how right Shiro is.
He despises the job. And he doesn't know what to do about it.
Sure, initially his mission seemed to be the most important thing in the world - he was proud to unite the absolute mess that was the Galra Empire, ecstatic to eliminate the last of Zarkon's fanatics, and simply satisfied that the damage Lotor and Haggar had caused to the galaxy had been reversed. The Galactic Coalition did an excellent job of restoring peace and order to the galaxy, and for a long time, it seemed that the organization had nothing more to offer.
His daily life is a routine he hates but doesn't know how to escape. It's so simple to keep himself shut off, away from everyone's concerns. Working himself to death is comforting, no matter how messed up that sounds. He doesn’t know anything else.
Shiro is right, though. Keith is wasting his life for nothing. He should find something else to do with his life. Find some sort of stability and be normal.
He isn’t sure if he even remembers how to be normal.
“Are you scared, Keith?” Shiro's voice jolts him out of his contemplation. This conversation is moving into territory Keith doesn’t want to enter, and he is slowly losing his patience. Just hang up, and say your connection died.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
He is caught off guard by his own words. He rarely allows himself to be vulnerable, but when he does, Shiro is usually the one who has the privilege to witness it.
He wasn’t exactly scared. Keith didn’t just get scared. Uncertainty would be a better word to describe the overwhelming dread in his stomach at the mere thought of trying to find a purpose back on Earth.
He was never like the others to begin with. He was ecstatic and happy to finally have somewhere he could put his existence into after all of them were basically forced to take up the Paladin mission without much of a choice. Never feeling like he belonged on Earth in the first place, it was difficult for him to relate to Lance's daily misses of the beach and the ocean, Hunk's cries for his family, and Pidge's determination to find her brother and father so they could return home. Keith didn’t have all that. He had no particular attachment to his surroundings back in Arizona, no family to miss, or a house to go back to other than the shitty shed he locked himself in after dropping out.
It was only natural for him to grow so familiar and comfortable in space, to the point where he never considered returning to Earth. Space was where he felt most at ease. He was no longer the alienated boy with rage issues. Keith felt like someone.
The Red and Black Paladin. The Leader of Voltron. Member of the Blade of Marmora. The Galactic Coalition representative.
But on Earth, who was he? A half-orphan. Galaxy Garrison dropout. A name associated with Voltron. Not even a decent friend.
Space was more than just a second home to him. Space was his only home.
How can he just leave it?
“What are you scared of?” Shiro breaks the silence, his eyes soft and voice warm. Keith can't help but wonder how he deserves to have this man in his life. Shiro's face is filled with love and worry, and Keith doesn't deserve it one bit. His brotherly, overwhelmingly insistent concern for Keith's general well-being can be annoying at times, but Keith knows his life would probably be even more miserable without him. He doubts he'd live to be his age without Shiro.
"I'm not sure," he sighs, feeling frustrated. Keith isn't the best at expressing himself, especially when it comes to emotions, and the whole topic is giving him a headache. "I just feel like space is where I'm meant to be. It's where I belong. Not that I believe in all that fate written in the stars nonsense. Don’t fucking laugh Shi–Shiro, you know what I mean. After my father died, I had nothing left. Except for you."
Shiro smiles softly. "I'm still here. You're always welcome in my home."
"It's not just about whether I'm welcome or not," Keith sighs heavily, one hand rubbing at his brow. He's on the verge of hanging up. "Or maybe it is. Maybe I don't feel welcome on Earth. I'm not even entirely human," he adds, to shift the conversation away from the real issue. Shiro is too good at picking up even the tiniest things sometimes.
"So," Shiro starts with a small smile, pausing for a second to tilt his head and look at Keith. "You refuse to return to Earth because you're half-alien and believe this makes you unwelcome?"
"You sure play dumb for someone so smart, Shiro," Keith grumbles, his finger hovering over the tempting red End call button. This could be it. Stop the call, block Shiro for a few months, have an argument with his mother, and immerse himself in his work for the next few years.
But Shiro’s eyes don’t lose even an ounce of tenderness and worry. “Keith.”
"What is it."
"If you don’t want to come back to Earth, that’s okay. Nobody is going to force you. We all did our part for the galaxy, and each of us has a valid reason to return home at some point. If you don't want to tell me why you're so insistent on staying here, that's fine. I’ll just ask you one thing, okay?"
Keith senses this won't end well, but he nods anyway.
"Don't you feel lonely?" Shiro asks, his voice firmer than at any other point in their conversation. Keith shifts his gaze away from the screen, attempting to focus on something other than Shiro's face. His throat feels dry, and he cracks his neck to release the tension that has crept up on him after the question enters his mind.
The answer is yes, Keith is lonely. And it feels strange to admit, to even consider, because Keith has been alone for a significant portion of his life, and it has never been an issue. He chose to be alone, and his conscious decisions have led him to where he is now, so he doesn't understand why he feels so overwhelmingly lonely at times.
He was reunited with his mother, Kosmo keeps him company, and he sees Kolivan and other Marmora members on a regular basis, so he isn't entirely alone. But he is lonely.
Shiro must have already deduced the answer from Keith's defeated silence, so he opts to change the subject, much to Keith's relief. "If you decide to return to Earth, you could stay with us until you find your place. Curtis wouldn't mind."
Keith cringes at the prospect of spending more time than necessary with Shiro's husband. Curtis doesn't like him. The feeling is mutual.
"If I do return to Earth, Shiro, I'm not sure what to do," his voice betrays him, sounding less stable than he prefers. "Finding a job, getting a flat, okay. That's easy. But I don't have anything there."
"How about friends?" Shiro's suggestion pricks Keith's heart with guilt because that thought hadn't even occurred to him. If there was a chance he still has any friends back home, that would change a lot. The thought of trying to find himself back in regular earthly life without anyone to be there with him causes a painful knot in his stomach. And yes, Shiro is always there for him, but there are boundaries to how much Keith can impose on his life. Especially since Curtis hates his guts.
It was difficult to admit, even to himself, but despite his best efforts to convince himself that he didn't need anyone, the absence of his friends deeply hurt him. After spending almost every day with their group for so long, he would, obviously, get attached and notice the void in his life without their presence. He longed for them and cursed himself for bringing his life to the point where the last time he spoke to any of them was four years ago.
For the first time since their call began, Keith looks Shiro in the eyes, searching for a lie.
"Do they even consider me a friend anymore? After all the shit I did. Ignoring them for years and, well, you know. It's been so long that I can't imagine they'd want anything to do with me."
"Well,” Shiro smiles, but it lacks its usual sincerity. ”They sure are disappointed after not hearing from you for so long, but they're willing to forgive you if you show up to our reunion this time. It’s their condition." Shiro tries to make it a joke by forcing a small laugh at the end, but Keith realizes it's serious, feels the implication of it. They are offering him an opportunity to fix things. This is Keith's one and only chance to get it right and not mess it up forever.
“Alright, fine. I’ll be there,” He sighs, a bit defensive but not putting up much of a fight. He quickly hides the small smile that forms on his lips at the mere thought that his friends may not completely despise him. He could never admit out loud how ecstatic that makes him. "It's going to be so awkward on Earth after all this time. I might actually behave like an alien."
Keith feels Shiro's warmth and comfort rubbing off on him as he chuckles on the other end of the line. Perhaps Keith, too, has a chance to be happy after all.
"I think you're fine, as long as you don't pull a stunt like four years ago," Shiro says innocently, probably unaware of the gravity of his words. Keith's face immediately drops, his blood turning to ice, and cold sweat drips down his neck.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
4 years.
For four years, Keith had tried to forget about that terrifying failure and the worst series of decisions he had ever made, and now he was reliving it in his head as if it had happened yesterday. That overwhelming embarrassment, panic, and horror of what he'd done had stopped haunting him not long ago, and Shiro had just opened the door to Keith's self-loathing.
Shiro doesn't know the details, he’s unaware of what exactly transpired four years ago at the last reunion Keith attended; the one that became the final straw in his decision that he can't be a part of any of their reunions if Lance shows up as well. Everyone just assumed they were in a fight. A fight bad enough that Keith abruptly left on his motorcycle, only to return to space the next day and never be seen on Earth again.
Yes, Keith was a cunning warrior, an excellent fighter, and a pretty competent leader. He was also a fucking coward when it came to his feelings.
He has no idea what happened that night. It was late and hot. Shiro has long since left for the hotel where his husband was waiting, and Pidge and Hunk were sleeping soundly on Lance's family's couch, both snoring and mumbling drunken words. He can't remember why he and Lance chose to sit outside the house, squeezed together in the soft pillow chair on the porch, their thighs touching every time one of them moved even a little. Perhaps Lance suggested they look at the stars, or perhaps they just needed some fresh air after inhaling one bottle of wine too much.
One moment, he and Lance were just talking about their daily struggles and emotional battles with trauma, offering genuine vulnerability without hesitation or second thoughts. Maybe it was the wine circulating in his body, or the Altean marks on Lance's face shining ever so brightly in the dark night, or the ringing in Keith's ears from all the screaming and laughing during dinner with the five of them. Or maybe it was the way Lance swallowed hard, staring at Keith's face and lips for a few seconds too long, and the next thing Keith knew, he was kissing Lance.
He kissed him with everything he had. The moment their eyes locked when Lance looked up, his hand was already pulling Lance's shirt in a tight grip, yanking him as close as their position allowed, his lips hungrily marking the other's lips. He wasn't even thinking; he just kissed and kissed, grabbing whatever his arms could reach. Lance's head, shoulders, arms, thighs. His frantic mind couldn't decide where to touch, so eager to feel all of Lance, to lock him in time and space to just enjoy this moment.
Lance's hands found Keith's neck and drew him even closer, making Keith moan with pleasure, their teeth clicking against each other, lips still striving for more and more. It was too good, and Keith was drowning in Lance. His soft lips on his own, the heat of his tongue, his long slim fingers grabbing Keith's hair. It was both too much and not enough.
Keith slid one of his hands under Lance's shirt, his curious fingers wandering around his overheated torso, poking at his nipples, eliciting a series of soft gasps from the other. Keith's blood rushed to his groin, and he bit at his lip, afraid he'd explode. His head was spinning and all he could think about was the person in front of him.
Lance was already straddling his lap, his long legs framing his torso, his butt pressing on Keith's crotch, and Keith found himself overwhelmingly aroused, his entire body heating up instantly. Lance began to move his hips, gasping into Keith's neck as his own growing erection rubbed against Keith's cock. Keith groaned, closing his eyes in response to the incredible pleasure.
Grabbing Lance's hips, his fingers dug deep into the material of his jeans, and Lance moaned into his mouth as he pressed himself particularly hard, and both of them gasped before their lips met again. Keith couldn't care less about their sloppy kiss, open mouths and tongues because Lance was driving him insane and nothing was as important as the sensation of his body against his, all hot and eager. He was so engrossed in the pleasure, his attention shifting between Lance's delightful little noises and the friction of their crotches rubbing against the thick material of their jeans, that he had barely noticed that a curious hand had slipped under his pants. When he felt hot fingers directly on his cock, all clarity returned to him in a wave.
"Shit." He hissed at the sudden electricity flowing through his body, pulling away and standing up as if on fire, pushing Lance onto the pillow chair with more force than he intended. He looked at the man in front of him with terror in his eyes, gulping hard as he gasped for air.
"What the hell, Keith?" Lance growled, perplexed. He looked dazed, his eyes glossy and the blush still on his cheeks, but his lips were twisted in a grimace, and Keith couldn't bear to look at him.
"I have to go." That was all he could say before sprinting inside to grab his backpack and jacket. He could hear Lance yelling after him, but he ignored that and jumped on his motorcycle, squeezing the gas handle hard.
Keith didn't care that he wasn't sober enough to be riding his motorcycle at full speed. His mind was racing, the fresh memory of what had happened flashing before his eyes, and his entire body was shuddering with so many emotions at once that he was convinced he would die in a crash that night. His cursed fate wanted him to survive and make it to his hotel room alive, even though a part of his soul probably died that night.
He told anyone who asked that they had a fight, and after some words were exchanged, he stormed away. Not out of the ordinary. Lance didn't seem eager to share the actual details on his end, so no further questions were asked.
The next day, Keith was back in space.
“Keith?” Shiro's voice startles him awake from the unwelcome journey through his hidden memories. "Are you okay? I’m sorry for bringing this up. I thought that after so long, you both wouldn't care about that fight."
"No, Shiro, it's fine. I'm fine. I don't know about Lance, but I'm fine."
Keith was most definitely not fine.
Lance tried to contact him after that night. Keith was avoiding looking at his communicator when it rang, so Lance texted, and he sure texted a lot. Wrote entire essays and could even turn them into a book of poems about a betrayed and enraged man. Lance finally gave up after months of constant messages that remained unanswered, but they lingered in the back of Keith's mind for the next years of his long swim in the ocean of self-hatred.
“What the fuck was that”
“Can we please talk”
“Keith I just want to talk”
“It's okay Keith please let's talk”
“You fucking coward”
“You bastard”
“Talk to me please?”
“I know you’re scared but I need you to talk to me”
“You fucker”
“You can't just fucking do that and ditch me like nothing happened”
“I knew you were a jerk”
“You insensitive piece of shit”
“Don't ever talk to me again.”
That was fair.
Keith really has no idea why he agreed to this reunion.