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#jealous lance
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How do you imagine a scenario plays out in which Keith (most beautiful red boy ❤️❤️❤️) is being flirted with by some aliens, what would Keith do? More importantly what would Lance do 🔫😠💙?
pleASE I lost it over 🔫😠💙
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Keith was getting tired of all of these parties he was forced to attend. He knew having allies was important in defeating the Galran empire but no matter how many times he told Allura he wasn't cut out for social situations she told him to just "smile and nod."
So that's what he did. Party after party, event after event he just smiled and nodded. He frankly didn't care what people said to him, the jokes they said to him, he just didn't care.
He took a sip of his drink, he wasn't even sure how to describe the taste of it; kind of fruity but bland. He quickly scanned the room, Shiro was chatting with the council members with Allura and Coran.
Pidge was talking excitedly to the couple of engineers that surrounded them. He had no doubt that were brainstorming how to upgrade their weapon systems or something similar.
Hunk was kept company by a couple of people wearing matching uniforms. Keith had noticed them going in and out of the kitchen, he figured they were chiefs of some sort.
His eyes found the Blue paladin; naturally, he was in his element. The aliens that surrounded him laughed loudly at whatever he was saying. One of them even touched his arm briefly; to which he quickly moved his arm in a polite way. 
Lance met his eyes from across the room, sending him a quick smile that Keith found himself reciprocating.
He wasn't sure what he and Lance were at this point. Keith had kissed him after a particularly rough mission. He didn't really mean to, he didn't even realize he liked Lance like that until Lance didn't come back to the castle.
Blue was knocked offline and Lance couldn't get her back to the castle. Keith found him first and as soon as he saw Lance he just kissed him. Before he could really understand what he just did Lance was kissing him back.
They quickly pulled away as Hunk entered the atmosphere with the yellow lion.
Lance came to Keith's room that night, asking if they could talk about the kiss. They both came to the conclusion that maybe this rivalry was a bit of a cover-up for more intense feelings. Neither of them knew they liked each other past a friendship until they kissed.
So they weren't officially dating but they obviously had feelings for each other. They hadn't told the team yet either, they were still trying to figure out what to do with these feelings.
“Now that is a nice smile if I do say so myself.” A taller alien stepped closer to him. His skin was pastel pink, decorated with gold designs. His eyes were pitch black, and his baby blue color hair was tied up in a braided bun. 
Keith looked at him, “thanks,” and he took another sip of his drink. 
“So red paladin, you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself tonight.”
“Parties aren’t my thing.” 
The alien released a small chuckle, “I can tell.” 
Keith didn’t respond, he just wanted to be left alone. 
“So does the red paladin have a name?” The man asked in a sultry voice. 
Keith cleared his throat, trying to shake the discomfort he was feeling. “Keith.” 
“Keith,” the man repeated it a couple of times, trying to get his tongue used to the name. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Dreknill.” 
Keith fought the urge to roll his eyes, I didn’t ask. “Pleasure.” 
Dreknill kept talking, it was small talk and Keith found himself replying. Not so much out of any interest more because it was passing the time. He wanted to know about Keith's life, what it was like being a paladin, how many planets he had saved, things like that. 
Keith kept his answers short, very aware of how the taller man found every opportunity to step closer to him, touch his shoulder, things of that nature. Keith knew he was flirting with him, he wasn’t that socially obvious. He just didn’t know how to escape the situation he found himself in. 
“Keith, the night is slowly coming to an end.” 
Keith gave a small nod, finally. 
“Would you care to share a dance?” 
Before Keith could turn down his offer, Dreknill's hands were on his lower back, pushing him towards the center of the room. “I-I can’t dance,” Keith tried to turn away but the other man grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to his chest. 
“I guess I’ll have to teach you.” 
Keith frantically looked around the room as Dreknill twirled him around the room. He stumbled a bit under his feet and Dreknill lifted him up slightly, supporting most of his weight. 
Keith held his breath, trying to think of his best route back to his room, or just out of the ballroom. He could tell the song was coming to an end and he silently begged for it to end faster. 
Dreknill stopped twirling him, finally setting him back fully on the ground. “That wasn’t so bad was it?” He gave him a smile. 
“Oh yeah, thanks but I think I’m going to turn in for the night.” 
“Oh but Keith the night is so young! One more dance?” He leaned closer, his lips an inch or so apart from Keith’s. 
Keith‘s mind was in an all-blown panic and he felt himself freeze. Move body! Come on! He could fight the Galra but freeze in this situation? 
“Keith! What are you still doing up, you need your beauty sleep.” A familiar voice rang in his ears, his savior. An arm was wrapped around his waist, pulling him onto his teammate's side. 
Dreknill straightened his back up, “Oh the Blue Paladin.” 
“Please, call me Lance. I don’t mean to interrupt but Keith does have a strict bedtime routine.” 
Dreknill squinted his eyes a bit at Lance, seeming to size him up, his eyes lingering on Lance’s hand on Keith's waist. “I see.” 
Lance flashed him a wide smile, “it was a pleasure to meet you.” 
“I can escort the red paladin back to his room,” Dreknill reached for Keith and Lance tightened his hold on him. 
“Don’t worry. I can take care of him.” Lance looked down at Keith, “ready to leave love?” 
Keith felt himself blushing, nodding a bit at Lance’s words. 
“We both hope you get home okay,” and with that Lance turned around, dragging Keith with him, and quickly left the room. He didn’t stop walking until they were in the space between their bedroom doors. 
Lance dropped the hold he had on Keith. “Sorry, you looked uncomfortable.” 
“It...wasn’t pleasant. Thanks for getting me out of there.” 
Lance gave him a tense nod. 
Keith scanned his face, trying to decipher any emotion he could. “Lance?” 
Lance grabbed his face gently and brought their lips together. 
---
Lance wasn’t really a jealous person. He had his moments, who didn’t? But he had a very small list of things that would actually make him feel jealous. When his mama would call his siblings by his nickname. When his eldest brother got a dog and he didn’t. And apparently seeing Keith be flirted with was another one. 
He had kept his eyes on his fellow teammate the entire night. He wanted to be by him, keeping their shoulders touching, maybe holding his hand, just be close to him. But he knew he needed to mingle, needed to help this alliance go smoothly. Plus he didn’t want to get integrated by the team because they were both suddenly joined at the hip. 
So he chatted with the aliens that surrounded him, quickly dodging their flirting attempts or invitations back to their respective rooms. None of his guests seemed to take offense to his friendly decline which he was grateful for. 
But then that...that guy strolled over to Keith, and Lance told himself to keep breathing, that Keith was just mingling like they all were. But then he put his hand on Keith's arms and Lance almost stormed over to him right then and there. He was stopped by a councilman stepping in front of him, quickly pulling him into a conversation. 
Lance couldn’t keep his eyes off him, he kept nodding his head, giving half-ass responses to whatever the councilman was saying. A tight feeling bloomed in his chest the longer he watched Keith. He knew that they weren’t dating or anything but Lance wished they were. 
He forced himself to remain where he was, forcing his breathing to remain even. Keith did look uncomfortable, he clearly wasn’t enjoying the conversation he was having and Lance did whatever he could to try to end the conversation. 
He managed to slip away as Keith was being twirled on the dance floor, looking too uneasy on his feet. Lance stared at the two, stared specifically at Keith who was nearly being lifted off the ground by the other man. 
Lance couldn’t control himself anymore, he couldn’t stop his advancement toward the two men even if he wanted to. He reached Keith in a couple of strides, immediately pulling him to his side with one arm. “Keith! What are you still doing up, you need your beauty sleep.”
Lance eyes the other man, trying to silently tell him to back off. The man, Lance didn’t care to learn his name, seem to take it as a challenge, which Lance was not going to lose. 
“I can escort the red paladin back to his room,” the man reached for Keith, and Lance tightened his hold on his teammate, silently apologizing for how tightly he was grabbing him. He didn’t want that man to pull Keith out of his grasp. 
“We both hope you get home okay, “ Lance didn’t think he could walk any faster. Each step put him further away from that man. He kept walking till they both reached in-between their rooms. 
Kissing Keith was not something he expected to do tonight, be he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t. Keith kissed back with a sense of hunger and Lance quickly pushed him back against the wall. 
“Sorry I couldn’t get you out of there sooner. You looked in pain most of the night.” Lance mumbled against the other boy's lips. 
Keith nodded and Lance pulled away, looking into his galaxy eyes. “I guess I don't like when others flirt with you.” 
Keith blushed at the statement, “I only want you flirting with me honestly.” 
Lance grinned, “I’ll make sure to be the only one,” he connected their lips again.
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I don’t really know why I went in this direction but why do I do anything?? I guess I just needed some jealous Lance in my life 
I hope you liked it 
Thank you <333333
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nikogane · 1 month
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jealousy, jealousy
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moony-phases · 7 days
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a quick post canon klance meme from twitter
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autisticlancemcclain · 4 months
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The ship was shaking like a kid holding a goldfish bag.
It was not, in case you were wondering, a good time. 
Keith grit his teeth, planting his boots on the ground and half-walking half-climbing over to Allura, who was paler than Keith had ever seen her. The grip she had on her podium was tight enough to drain the blood completely from her knuckles. Despite his own fear, Keith’s heart softened for her. 
“How is it looking?” he asked, shouting over the noise of a thousand asteroids and a million laser strikes. All while their lions sat, drained of quintessence, locked in their hangars
One goddamn thing after another. Jesus. 
“It is looking bad,” Allura shouted, not taking her eyes off the space in front of her. “I can’t – Coran, I can’t hold it on my own!”
Coran looked back at her grimly. He had probably the most success keeping upright – seriously, was it posture or did he have a steel rod anchored to his back at all times – but even he was struggling against the whipping and shuddering of the massive castleship, attention focused on the controls. Trying to keep the shield up as well as possible, trying to get their own defenses running. Trying, as always, to keep the castle going, even when the odds were a million to nothing. 
“You can,” he encouraged. The effect was less encouraging when a massive asteroid hit the side of the bridge point-blank, throwing him right off the controls and splat into the walls. Despite Lance and Allura’s cries of alarm, he made a startlingly dignified crawl back to the deck controls.
Hell of a man, that advisor. 
He continued once he was steady, sweat beading on his brow but gaze soft and assuring. He waited for Allura to meet his eyes, then nodded, once. “Focus, girl. Hands on the spheres. Mind cool on the exhale. However we need to get out of this – you can guide us. Make your decision. Your team is behind you.”
“Yeah!” Pidge cheered, lifting her fist in emphasis from where Shiro held her steady, eyes trained on her computer screen. Blaring red lines of code Keith could not pretend to read flashing rapid speed in front of her, and she typed back at it just as fast, keeping their crackling systems at bay. “You got this!”
Allura breathed out. The tense line of her shoulders softened, just slightly, despite the ongoing chaos. She lifted her hands and rested them, gently, on the podium spheres as Coran instructed. They glowed. 
“We retreat,” she decided, nodding to herself. “We’re already low on quintessence, standing to fight will drain us dangerously. We must get to safety if we are to survive with our home intact.” She bit her lip, eyes opening. “But, uh, full disclosure, I have enough strength in me to open a wormhole and that is About It. I will be out of commission the moment it closes.”
Hunk shrugged. “We’ll catch you, then.”
“Try not to wormhole us into a black hole,” Shiro suggested, smiling slightly. “We’ll manage anything else, Princess.”
She laughed slightly, thankfully, but within seconds called out for everyone to brace themselves. Keith did as she heeded, or he tried to – but the castle got hit as he tried to crawl back to his seat, sprawling him on the floor. He glanced over at Allura, panicked, but her eyes were already glowing, and the space in front of them was already starting to warp. He swallowed roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. The floor was shaking too badly for him to get his bearings. He couldn’t get his feet under him, couldn’t stand, couldn’t dream to crawl to his seat. He stilled, resigning himself – he didn’t know exactly what would happen if he wasn't strapped down and protected during a wormhole jump, but it couldn’t be good. He had to hope for the best.
“God,” sighed a voice to his left, “you’d die without me, Dropout.”
A hand clenched the back of his jacket and yanked, pulling him tumbling onto another body. Quick as lightning a seatbelt was stretched over him, clicking into place just as the space in front of the castle finally warped, bright blue, and the entire bridge lit up so bright Keith was blind with it. 
When the light finally died down, Keith was half-convinced nothing had changed. The castle stopped shaking, but instead it was plummeting, hard and fast, controls dead and energy gone, towards the surface of a planet. 
“Someone catch Allura!” Coran shouted, and on queue the princess’ eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped forward. Luckily, Hunk had been more prepared than the rest of them, seatbelt already off and arms extended to catch her. He carried her back to her seat, buckling her in carefully, and strapping himself in next to her. Wise move – trying to crawl back to his own seat, fighting against the G-forces, would be near impossible.
There was a click, and then a shove, and then Keith got to feel those G-forces firsthand.
“What the hell!” he demanded, barely managing to catch himself on the arm of the blue paladin’s seat. “I coulda brained myself!”
Lance shrugged, playing for innocent, but a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Keith could’ve strangled him. “What? Thought I’d let you get back to your own chair. You're welcome for saving you, by the way.”
“Some saving, jerk! We're still falling!”
“Yeah. Personally, I would find somewhere to buckle up.”
“You’re so annoying,” Keith growled, and it was by spite alone that he managed to stomp back to his own seat and buckle himself in. He was bright red, anger making him hot – Lance always made him like this, so furious he could barely blink. One day they’d be making progress, working together like a dream, wiping the floor together, and the next it was like a switch was flipped. Like Lance was reminding himself that he and Keith could never get along. It was ridiculous, and Keith couldn’t for the life of him understand it. Was he so bad?
“Incoming!” Pidge shouted, shaking Keith back to himself. Her screen was now linked up with Coran’s, the only two things on in the entire castle – electronics seemed to come alive when Pidge touched them – and diagrams of the castle systems were blaring red, flashing with symbols Keith didn’t know, but recognised as bad. “The nav and power systems are down! It’s not safe to get anyone back there to force them back on manually, but I think I can get steering up in a sec. Shiro, I need your arm for power. Hunk, keep on Allura, make sure she’s upright when we crash, we don’t want a spinal injury. Lance, Keith, I’m turning steering over to you guys. Don’t fuck it up.”
Despite their bickering, both of them nodded. Neither of them particularly wanted to be turned into paladin pancake anytime soon, so they could collaborate for one thing. 
Seconds after Pidge spoke, a screen flickered to life in front of Keith. Stats blinked back up, glitching rapidly as they translated themselves into words and symbols Keith could understand. The hologram shifted and expanded to its usual 3D model, joystick in the middle, thrusters and controls to his left, a screen with Lance’s comm line to his right. In his little screen, Lance met his eyes, eyebrows raised in question. Keith nodded. Together, they wrapped their hands around the joysticks, breathed out, and let their minds fuse.
As always, it was a freaky feeling. Imagine the weird, shuddery feeling you get when you say the same thing as someone at the same time, voices layering, tone mixing, for a moment your own voice and the voice of a stranger synching into one. The weird, deja-vu-but-not of it, the uncanny valley feel of recognising your own voice but…different. 
Then multiply that freakiness by a hundred, and you still won’t quite get it. 
On some levels Keith was aware that he was his own person. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history – or well, some of it. Nothing about himself had changed. 
But at the same time, he was also Lance Esposita-McClain. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history, more of it than he could ever get from shared stories or mind melds. There’s no telling the way your sister’s arm feels hooked around your neck for the sixth noogie in as many minutes. There’s no explaining the way your breathing only gets calm with your feet in the saltwater. There’s no describing the curve of your mother’s smile. Nothing Keith was seeking out – no memories he would even know to look for – but they were there, simmering, triggered by a smell or the crook of his finger in a particular way. Memories stored in the body and the soul and the senses, not in the brain, shared when two consciousnesses become one. 
Lance’s mind was hyperspecific. It complemented Keith’s well, with all his flitting, quick detail-oriented observance. As Keith jumped from angle to angle, noticing the planet’s curve, the pull of its gravity, the heat of its atmosphere, Lance zeroed in on an island, one of the only ones big enough for them to land. While Keith kept their craft in control, steering along the air currents, Lance kept them directed, single-minded focus on a stretch of rocky beach – not exactly a soft landing, but not a lot of living things for them to destroy when they crash. (Keith would’ve chosen to land in the meadow. Crushing frogs and bugs or whatever is never something on his top priority list of things to avoid. But he didn’t argue when Lance nudged them towards what is about to be a very bumpy landing.)
“Brace yourself!” he shouted, not daring to look away to make sure his friends were buckled. Trusting that they were, he held his position, letting them plummet, coming closer and closer to splatting on the planet’s surface before finally yanking on the joystick as hard as he could. He felt Lance’s strength twist and tangle with his own, and together the two of them levelled the castle almost parallel with the ground, letting them glide on their own velocity until they slowed down enough to let the bottom of the craft brush against the rocky outcrop. 
It was the most turbulent landing Keith has ever felt, except maybe that time he and Lance crashed blindfolded into a sand dune, and every bump on the ground gave him whiplash. When the castle finally hit the ground for good, dragging them a gauge in the ground for several miles as friction finally slowed it to a stop, the leftover inertia yanked Keith forward so roughly the buckles of his seatbelt made something crack in his ribcage. When the castle finally stopped he got slammed back into his chair so hard he was almost surprised he didn’t fall right through the impenetrable material. 
It took a minute for everything to hit. His connection with Lance had been severed the second they hit the ground, too focused on being, y’know, crashed to keep holding on. After the shock of being tossed around like dice in a cup wore off, which did not take long, Keith’s body made it very clear that yeah, no, armour actually only does so much, and crash landing is one of those things that’s just bound to hurt. His skull pounded. At least one of his ribs was most definitely cracked. His wristed and knuckles ached from the strain of holding up the entire weight of the castle as he’d steered it. He was alive, obviously, but – Jesus. Being alive sucked.
“Sound off,” croaked Shiro from somewhere left of him.
“Ugh,” groaned Pidge. “Screw you, Keith, I hate it when you drive.”
“Next time I’ll be sure to let us crash,” Keith responded flatly.
“Um, you did, bozo, I asked you to land us –”
“The castle was dead! What did you expect me to –”
“Allura and I are both fine,” Hunk interrupted. Amusement lined his voice. “She’s still out, but she’s breathing fine, and I didn’t let her hit anything on impact. She should still get checked out, though.”
“Roger that,” Coran agreed. “Ease your worries, Number Two, you did well. I will have her in the MedBay as soon as our systems are up and running again.”
“Oh, whew, that’s a relief, because I didn’t want to say anything but she kinda jammed her elbow into my sternum by accident and I’m not blaming her or anything since she’s unconscious but I think my spleen may be a little dead, not a huge deal I’m sure but –”
“Everyone quiet!” barked Shiro. “That’s six accounted for! Who’s missing?”
Immediately, heart pounding, Keith whipped to his right. His stomach dropped. The Blue Lion Command Chair was empty – seatbelt torn somewhere on the shoulder, cracked helmet overturned carelessly on the seat. The crisp blue and white lines were marred by a small splash of red. Panic clawed its way up Keith’s throat, and he was out of his seat before he could register unbuckling his own straps, looking frantically around the bridge. 
“He’s here somewhere,” Pidge fretted, “he couldn’t’ve just disappeared –” 
Coran had a gloved hand clenched in his hair. “The windows and walls should be almost impenetrable, there is no way the crash broke them enough to let someone in –”
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck –”
“Guys,” a soft voice interrupted, and Keith could’ve collapsed with relief. The castle has been flipped sideways during the fall, floor suddenly now 90 degrees, and standing at the side of the control board, now the very high top, was Lance. For whatever reason he had climbed it while they bickered, and now stood very still, gloved hand pressed to the glass of the windshield. Blood trickled from his temple, tracing a line down the side of his face, disappearing in the neckline of his armour. “We got company.”
Shifting gears – Keith was about to tear him a new one, when Shiro says sound off you sound off – but froze when he looked out the window, following Lance’s gaze.
Marching towards them, in numbers Keith couldn’t pretend to count, was an army.
— — —
part two
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farlynthordens · 10 days
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how dot could have been if the author wasn't a coward
(read right to left)
PART 2: HERE
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rt3nenbaum · 6 months
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you give fernando a camera/phone and the first thing he does is take pictures and videos of lance stroll, that old man is down bad, he is down atrocious actually, it's embarrassing to watch at this point
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nico-di-genova · 4 months
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Have the haters tried simply not having Lance Stroll on their mind?
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rinterests · 10 months
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what if the “lover boy” status lance holds was just a MASSIVE misunderstanding
and he mostly did it to impress keith n make him think he pulls
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artsyjesseblue · 1 year
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Whoops…
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Oh Lance…
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Pidge, you had to make it so obvious…
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moonsidesong · 3 months
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person ally i think it is messed up of sega that they keep putting popoi's theme in the soundtrack of every single puyo game but they dont invite him to play anymore. thats his little song. THATS HIS LITTLE SONG. and you dont even respect him......... just because he is kind of mean and he says meow meow and and is silly and has a lot of secrets and is cute and sometimes beats up kids in the woods you dont think he wants to come play? let kitty out of the plush toy he needs enrichment
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lil-shiro · 11 months
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@.lance_stroll: 👀 on 🇨🇦
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xamaxenta · 2 years
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Prince Ace and his two knights, Sabo the dragonknight/dragoon and Marco the paladin and advisor
Not seen here because i didnt plan this out but Sabo and Ace are holding hands 🥺
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arrowverse-bs · 2 years
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Sara: Babe, can you keep an eye on John today? He’s gonna say the wrong thing to the wrong person and get punched.
Ava: Sure! I’d love to watch John get punched.
Sara: Try again.
Ava: I will stop John from getting punched.
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newtmas-supremxcy · 17 days
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Sooo do any of you guys have fic recs for ones where basically all of the blade of marmora have crushes on lance, and keith is just silently/not so silently fuming in the background
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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months
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The first bout of whispering, Shiro can ignore. He’s a teacher by trade, after all. Astronaut, sure. Paladin, even. But he always expected to be a teacher, trained for it, and he knows when you put a group of teenagers in a room and expect them to start learning by lecture, there’s going to be some whispering. He’d be concerned if there wasn’t, frankly.
But as it keeps happening, again and again, to the point where it’s almost constant, Shiro begins to lose his patience.
“Lance, Hunk,” he says, catching himself long before then. He tries to smile, gentle but firm. “Everything okay?”
The two boys clam up immediately. Lance even begins to lean slightly away from Hunk, although Shiro’s not sure he notices.
Shiro frowns, puzzled at the reaction. That’s — uncommon. He’s seen embarrassed, seen sheepish, seen unbothered, even seen downright rude, but Lance looks almost… afraid. And Hunk looks at him with a lot more anxiety than the situation calls for, but Shiro is beginning to notice that that’s just Hunk.
The both mutter some semblance of apology, and Shiro moves on quickly, unwilling to dwell on the incident too long.
For the rest of the briefing, he keeps an eye on them. He’s still focused, of course, as their break-in and recon on a nearby Empire warship is not only hugely dangerous, but will also be hugely beneficial, but he lets his notes do a lot of the talking for him. He flits his eyes to the pair every so often, and while Hunk meets his eyes on occasion, smiling slightly, Lance keeps his head down, hunched over his tablet.
Shiro notices that the tablet is powered off. He doesn’t write a single note.
His shoulders are hunched up to his ears.
———
“Alright, kiddo, good job.”
Keith grins, stepping backwards and bowing to finish the fight. Shiro bows back, matching his smile.
“You did great.”
“I know,” Keith says cheekily. “You’re getting easier and easier to beat. Probably because you’re elderly.”
Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Am I.”
His annoying little brother hums, completely unconcerned. He steps off to the side and starts swinging around his training stick, very clearly showing off. “Mhm. It was super easy to fight you. I just went whoosh, smack, bam! —” he punctuates every sound with a swing and slash of the stick — “and every hit just landed. Honestly, I think a punching bag would have been more of a challenge. Adam is a way better spar partner than you. I wish I was shot into space with him.”
Shiro’s eye twitches. It’s a clear goad, he knows it is. Keith isn’t even trying to hide it. He’s a twerp with too much energy and too much experience pressing all of Shiro’s buttons — a favourite button of his, of course, being the bit of…healthy competition Shiro has always had with his boyfriend.
(He’s well aware of the irony. He hears Adam pointing and laughing in his head every time he endures Keith’s complaining about Lance pulling his mullet, so to speak. In fact keeping his mouth shut about the parallels is the only thing keeping him from throwing Keith down the laundry chute. He’s waiting for a moment when the reveal can be well and truly devastating.)
Shiro manages, with herculean strength, to step away from his turd of a brother, putting his training stick away.
“I am leaving,” he says loudly, pointedly turning away. “I said I’d train one hour with you and not a second more.”
He feels Keith’s pout more than sees it. “Coward.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro snorts, waving his hand dismissively. He hears swishing sounds, and the clicks of buttons — Keith is starting up his own training. Again. “Don’t be late for dinner or I’ll send Lance after you.”
“Can’t promise I won’t maim him,” Keith mutters. “Sometimes I just want to wring his neck.”
Shiro is very familiar with that feeling. Or at least the raving about it. He used to feel great pleasure in driving Adam to that point, just because he was hot when he was mad. But Shiro values his limbs — or at least what’s left of them — where they are, so he keeps the comments to himself as he makes his way out of the training room, meandering back to his own quarters.
He takes his time showering and redressing, knowing he’s got some time before dinner. He thinks Hunk even managed to wrestle Coran out of the kitchen, which means no food goo. It also means that he’s banned from even breathing near the kitchen until the food is fully cooked and completed — which is a bullshit ban and one based in false accusations — but he’s sure he can help set the table, or something. Stir a pot. He’s good at that.
He towels off his hair, not bothering to style it, and takes his time walking over to the kitchens. The castle floors are cold under his bare feet, he finds himself wishing he had the lion slippers Lance made him. They’re very warm. He never wears them because he’s terrified of ruining them, but it’s so icy in here that he might start having to, or else he’ll freeze.
As he approaches the kitchen, he hears voices. He freezes, quieting his steps and pausing behind the wall to listen. Hopefully no one else walks by, or that will be humiliating.
“— all you have to do is ask, Lance, just casually, it’s not even —”
“— it is even, Hunk, it’s the worst and I’m not doing it, why would I inconvenience —”
“— it isn’t! Not even a little! It’s the smallest tiniest thing!”
“Hunk —”
Hunk throws his hands up in exasperation, spoon going flying and splattering some kind of blue sauce all over the cabinets. Neither of them even blinks at it.
“I am tired of watching you struggle, Leandro! Heaven forbid you ask for help!”
Shiro frowns. That’s not good. That sounds serious.
“I asked for help,” Lance huffs, arms crossed over his chest. “I asked you, didn’t I?”
“I don’t count and you know it,” Hunk says sharply, mirroring him. “I already knew.”
Lance looks away, clenching his jaw. His fingers are tangled in his jacket’s sleeve, tense.
“You don’t have to help anymore if it’s too hard,” he mumbles. “I can handle it myself.”
Hunk softens. “It’s not that, Lance.” He wipes his hands in his apron and pulls Lance to his chest. Lance goes, although he doesn’t move his arms, burying his face in Hunk’s shoulder. “You know it’s not that. If that’s all we have then I’ll keep doing it, damn the consequences.” He pulls back slightly, nudging Lance back so he can look him in the face. “You can just do better, dude. All you gotta do is tell Shiro about your —”
A hand claps over Hunk’s mouth, cutting him off, and Lance squeaks, “Hey, Shiro, hello, hi!”
Shiro startles. He scrambles upright before Hunk turns all the way, so at least he’s only seen crouching by the door like a weirdo by one person.
He clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”
“You’re banned from the kitchen,” Hunk says, muffled. How he looks so mighty and dignified with Lance’s hands still very much pressed to his face is well and truly beyond him. Shiro is frankly awed.
“I just came to help set the table,” he assures, hands held up in surrender. “Promise I’ll stay away from the actual food.”
Hunk narrows his eyes, but must decide he could use the help, because he nods, stepping backwards so Lance’s hands fall back down.
“Alright,” he sighs. “I’m making stew. You can set out utensils if you must but know I’ll judge you heavily for it. Lance, come help me finish up.”
Lance scrambles after him, avoiding Shiro’s gaze like he’s sure he’s going to get yelled at. Shiro watches him go, perplexed.
———
The next few days are, for the most part, manageable. Their mission goes well, Keith is surprisingly mellow — Shiro suspects the little nerd has discovered a library of some kind — and distress calls are minimal. All in all, Shiro should be taking the time as the blessing it is and catching up on some much needed R&R.
Instead, he’s worrying about the Blue Paladin.
Shiro can’t say he knows him well. They’ve hardly been in space a couple of months, after all, and while Shiro must have taught him a couple times — he was in the piloting program so it’s almost impossible that they didn’t cross paths — the Garrison is huge, and Shiro largely teachers younger students. Shiro can’t recall teaching a Lance, anyway.
But he can tell something’s off.
Besides the fact that Hunk keeps looking at Lance with concern, the Cuban seems…withdrawn, almost. He still works hard in training and smokes them in any kind of long distance, but there doesn’t seem to be any joy in it. Even his arguments with Keith seem halfhearted, which Keith will never admit leave him agitated as much as it has Shiro’s eyebrows raising. Shiro is sure, basically, that something is the matter, and surer still that he has to be the one to fix it.
How exactly he should go about it…well, that’s the part he’s struggling with. He knows Lance is kind of star-eyed around him, even though they’re on the same playing field, so Shiro’s not sure just regular talking to him about it is going to do something. And he seemed pretty resistant when Hunk pressed, in the conversation Shiro overheard. He’s just not sure what to do.
Luckily, the situation starts to resolve itself.
“Hey, Shiro, can I talk to you?” Lance mumbles into his breakfast, as everyone else is distracted by Pidge and Keith’s loud argument about cryptids (Shiro has heard it too many times at this point. He’s tuned it out).
Shiro blinks. “Sure,” he says, trying to keep the shock out of his voice. “Now?”
“Uh, after we eat, maybe.”
Shiro tries very hard not to seem over enthusiastic. He sucks at that, so it doesn’t work, and it seems to make Lance more stressed, which only stresses Shiro out more. By the time everyone has finished up and people are starting to file out to various tasks, the tension between them is so thick Shiro feels as if he might suffocate.
Suddenly, as if he propelled himself, Lance springs to his feet, snatching his bowl and Shiro’s and powerwalking towards the kitchen sink. Shiro, startled, follows him.
“You okay?” Shiro asks softly, noticing the whiteness of Lance’s knuckles, clenched around a sponge, and the robotic way he scrubs it across a dirty spoon.
Lance says nothing. He keeps his eyes trained resolutely on the soapy water, spine ramrod straight, nerves bleeding from him in waves.
Hesitantly, Shiro rolls up his sleeves, standing beside him and beginning to dry what he rinses. As Shiro gets close he gets tenser, shoulders hiked up to his ears, but as the minutes drag on, empty kitchen echoing the sound of swishing water and clanking cutlery, he begins to calm down. Shiro watches his face relax, easing its worries twist, and terror fade from his brown eyes.
He hands Shiro the last clean dish to dry, then pulls the plug on the sink, darting over to grab a hand towel and starting to dry.
“Can you write mission plans in pink?”
The words rush out of him, like he’d been holding them between his teeth for God knows how long and they’d finally spilled out. He looks almost nauseous after he says them.
Shiro blinks. That was…not what he’d expected.
“…Why?”
“It’s perfectly okay if you can’t,” Lance continues, as if Shiro had not spoken. “I mean, whatever. I’ll figure it out. I’ve gone without this long, after all, and it’s totally doable. Of course there’s the migraines and the agony but that’s all light work. It’s war, after all. Ha.” He chuckles nervously.
He’s shrunk in on himself, looking almost small. Shiro stares at him with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. Lance doesn’t even notice, eyes focused intensely on the hand towel, breathing worryingly erratic.
“I just swore to Hunk that I’d ask, you know. He said it wouldn’t hurt. And of course it wouldn’t but I don’t need it. It’s just. You know.”
Shiro cannot stress enough how much he doesn’t know. He hasn’t felt this lost in a while.
“Pink makes the letters stick to the page. And I know that sounds stupid as shit and that’s because it is stupid as shit, unfortunately. Dyslexia is the dumbest thing in the world, actually. And who named it that? You know how hard that word is to spell? It’s hard. They should have called it — I dunno, I just mean, it’s whatever. It’s fine. I’ve handled it this long. Uh.” He looks up, finally, and maybe he doesn’t know how to make sense of Shiro’s expression, because he winces, shame overtaking his face. He sets down the towel and gestures vaguely behind him, stepping towards the door. “I’m just gonna — go. Sorry. See you later. Sorry.”
He all but flees out of the room. Shiro barely manages to snag the back of his hoodie, holding him in place.
“Lance. Chill a second. Give me time to respond.”
Lance looks deploringly at the door, then back at Shiro. He looks like he’s accepting his death. Shiro can’t help but feel the teensiest bit offended.
“I’m not going to bite you,” he says, aghast. “Jesus, kid. You’re going to give me a complex.”
To Shiro’s great relief, the remark makes Lance grin. Some of the tension eases from his face.
“You sound like my mother.”
“From what I’ve heard, that’s a compliment,” Shiro says lightly. He pulls out two chairs, orienting them so they’re facing each other. He deliberately takes the one farthest from the door, so Lance doesn’t feel trapped. He gestures to the other one. “Sit.”
Lance does.
“Now. From the beginning and with a little less fear, hopefully. Tell me what’s up, kiddo.”
Lance looks down at his hands, where he’s picking at a scar on his wrist.
“Um. So. I have dyslexia. I can’t read too well.”
Lance cringes as he says it. Shiro wonders who he has to kill for putting the idea that this is something to be ashamed about in his head.
“Cool,” Shiro says, as encouragingly as he can manage. “The main character of my favourite book series as a kid had dyslexia. I was jealous of everyone who had it. I used to pray for it.”
The revelation startles a laugh out of Lance, like Shiro hoped it would. The tension melts right off of him.
“You prayed?”
“Every night,” Shiro affirms, grinning. “I even crossed my eyes and pretended when it didn’t work. My mother didn’t believe me for a second.”
“You’re a dweeb,” Lance says, sounding kind of awed. Like he’s shocked that Shiro, too, is a nerd loser on this castle full of other nerd losers. “Dyslexia sucks.”
Letting his face settle into something more serious, Shiro nods. “I imagine it does.” He reaches over and squeezes Lance’s hand, subtly stopping him from picking at the skin. Keith has the same bad habit. “Writing in pink helps?”
Lance shrugs. “Sorta. Dunno why. But things are less squiggly when they’re written in pink or red. Not perfect, but it’s something. I can hardly read at all when they’re in black; it’s like my eyes are spinning out of my head trying to focus on ‘em. Gives me migraines like you would not imagine.”
“And thus Hunk whispering the plans to you so you don’t have to read them,” Shiro surmises, the whispering during briefings suddenly making sense. Guilt twinges in his belly.
“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Of course not,” Shiro says gently. “I get it now. Sorry for not understanding.” He frowns, remembering something. “I should’ve asked beforehand. Or suspected something, or known better, really. I had a kid a few years back in one of my astronomy courses. Li-something. I marked all his stuff in red for the same reasons.”
Lance makes a very particular face. Warning bells go off in Shiro’s head.
“I appreciated that very much,” Lance says politely.
It takes a moment for it to click.
Shiro considers banging his head against the table.
“Please tell me no,” he begs, ears reddening.
“It was a great honour to be renamed by the Takashi Shirogane,” Lance insists.
“I had you in my class for three years!” Shiro says, aghast. “I — I called you Li all the time! In front of people!”
“I didn’t want to correct you! That’s — embarrassing!”
Shiro cradles his head in his hands. Dear God. He knows he’s not great with names, but — Jesus. To rename a kid. Blatantly. Other teachers must have thought he was some cruel jackass.
“I think there was a Li McKinney ahead of me in roll call,” Lance offers, patting Shiro’s back delicately. “So. Pretty easy to mess up.”
“Did you write your name as Li on tests? And assignments?”
“After the first couple times, yeah. Hunk laughed at me. At a certain point I’d just dug myself too deep, I think.”
Shiro sighs, dragging his hand down his face. It’s still quite hot. He looks up at Lance, who’s mouth is twitching.
“You were short as shit back then,” he observes, trying to picture the kid in his class. “Like, shorter than Pidge.”
Lance scowls. “I was — saving up on growth spurts. Yeah. So. Purge that from your memory.” He smirks. “Like my name.”
Shiro groans. “I’m never hearing the end of that, am I.”
Lance smiles. “Probably not. I didn’t know you were uncool. It’s interesting. I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”
Shiro rolls his eyes, but reaches over to mess with Lance’s hair, like he would Keith. Unlike Keith, Lance freaks out way harder, screeching something about hard work and artistic expression.
He smiles. “Glad you came to talk to me, kid.”
Lance sticks out his tongue, but he looks pleased, too. “Yeah, yeah.”
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demcnsinmymind · 3 months
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