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Keith doesn't know how he got his first scar. He remembers it spanning his palm, a jagged cut from something he must’ve pressed his small hand to. He knows he is young. He knows that it hurts as his parents fight. He knows that by the time the scar heals, his mother is a figment of his memory while his father grieves. His tiny hands and his tiny heart hurt for a woman he never gets to know. However, he ignores this ache, he perseveres and stays stoic even for his young age. Keith moves on.His mother vanishes and a warm breeze blows from the south. Keith doesn’t remember the origin of his first scar, but he remembers the ones that follow. Both the tangible marks on his flesh and the ones that grow inside of him. But after the first few, Keith never thinks much about the accumulation of wounds. Or that hurting or hurting others could be considered an oddity.He has second-degree burns and smoke inhalation as he tries to find his father in their burning home. They are battle wounds to finding his father.He doesn’t, of course, and the excruciating memory of burying his father stays with him far longer than the burns. Firm hands rest on his shoulder, guiding him this way and that. Not unkind but not considerate. He remembers staring at the grave, his knees wet from kneeling on the damp ground. He remembers refusing to stand and letting silent tears fall. He isn’t loud. Loudness is dangerous in his young mind. Loudness is the roar of fire, yelling voices, and the scream of loss. Eventually, through coaxing and guiding, he stands and leaves behind his father, buried by the tree. His father vanishes and above Keith, the stars glow and glisten, painting a constellation that he does not understand. He gets black eyes and bruises from the foster homes. Home after home, whiplash words, and whiplash fists. He expects it. He’s used to it. The bruises on his assailants last twice as long as his own, and he always packs light. He has nowhere else to go and no one to stick around for. He learns to move quickly, curl his fist, and fight for his life. He learns to move sharply, like a viper, to have a blade in hand, and fight because he can. He learns that he doesn’t need kindness if he can fight on his own.The kindness vanishes and only the dip below a watery surface can coat his aching body, feeling like a healing balm to his broken state. Or Keith thinks it had.A young man with dark soulful eyes sees him hurt, angry, and alone and extends a hand to him rather than a fist. For the first time, the wounds on his body and soul are accepted and soothed. Keith has never known what to do with all of Shiro’s compassion. Keith never believes kindness is a thing he can have.Kindness reappears and with it, a man named Shiro. The wind howls and the earth turns. Something makes Keith step towards that sincerity, thinking perhaps he can one day be deserving of it. One day perhaps the wounds he receives will not sting so hard with someone to tend to them. Shiro cared. Shiro cares. But Shiro’s life is complicated and he’s gone more often than he’s there. Whatever words of wisdom and security Shiro offers pairs with Keith’s bad decisions and penchant for trouble. Sometimes Keith wonders if he is trying to test Shiro’s willingness to continue to bail him out. Shiro never fails this test of loyalty. Yet, Keith continues to poke at Shiro’s kindness and consideration, never quite trusting it will last. Then Keith finds new ways to create scars on his heart. Keith wanders away from Shiro and his guidance and into a world that leaves blood on his hands and scars anew. He stumbles into the criminal underbelly, nursing his wounds outside of the boxing ring. Keith tends to a black eye as he sees the man he’d been against pressing a cloth to his mouth - his lost tooth is somewhere in the ring. Keith shows anyone and everyone just who they are up against in these nightly brawls. Who cares what Keith does, so long as he does it well? Keith falls into fighting. And finds that it’s not only easy, but he enjoys it, to some degree. A man named Kolivan takes him off to the side and expresses being impressed by his innate skills. Keith takes Kolivan’s card with a slow blink of his eyes and turns the card over in his fingers. Shiro doesn’t hold on tight enough as Keith steps toward Kolivan and barely looks back. A part of himself vanishes as the moon, so bright, so beautiful, bathes him in a silvery glow. It starts with small things, Kolivan honing his fighting skills and assessing where he is best suited. Keith is no stranger to bloodied knuckles and bruises, but with Kolivan, his fighting blooms into something far deadlier. At first, Keith’s assignments stay tame or tame enough, retrieval tasks and missions that require secrecy. Other times, he’s a hired muscle and focuses on protection. He works mostly with Regris, a man of few words but a warm energy. The kinship lasts for as long as Regris does, the man succumbing to his wounds after a shootout gone wrong.Regris vanishes and Keith sinks beneath the sea. Each inhale fills his lungs with frigid water. After that, Keith works solo. He grows deadlier with precision and intent. He gains a name for himself. Akira . And Kolivan has to screen his abundance of requests. Shiro never asks. Shiro’s eyes know, his expression tight as he stands on the porch of his home whenever Keith’s motorcycle speeds past. But he never calls it in, he never throws the law at Keith as he speeds away toward his next job. Kolivan always offers a choice. Keith always chooses wrong. His heart grows cold and he hardly feels a beat. His soul dies with each assignment, but he finds himself not caring. He can’t care about the world or its people when they never cared for him. Keith thinks nothing will change his view until the first blemish appears on his skin.Keith is accustomed to scars. And yet, they always came from wounds earned and fought. They never emerge from nothing. And they certainly never arch in a jagged pattern of stars in alignment. With each new imprint, Keith pauses, questions, wonders, worries. And it catches up with him. Keith doesn’t make mistakes but he supposes there’s a first time for everything, his shoulder aching as he hears the beep of someone sleeping in the hospital bed beside him. Keith scopes out his surroundings as best as he can, movements limited. As he peers down at the sleeping patient, he can’t help but admire the softness of his features, plush lips, long lashes, no scars or wounds. A beauty, even in sleep. A breeze from the south. The stars above and upon his wrist. The abyss of the sea as the earth turns. The moon’s glow. And then their lives collide in a way that Keith never predicts. In an instant, he learns that the young man, Lance, is full of indignation, demands, and declarations. He is passion and fury and notable fear as blades hurdle his way. He is beautiful and fierce and so utterly kind, it confuses Keith. Lance is beyond anyone Keith could ever imagine. And Lance is his soulmate. Before this moment, Keith never believed in such things. But as he looks at their twin markings and the heat and tug he feels in Lance’s presence, he can believe it. Lance is more than Keith could imagine. And he has a strong head on his shoulders, guided by his values and his skilled medical expertise. Their souls linked by some odd twist of fate that has Keith stalling a step and staring and wondering and waiting and wishing and -Lance is so much better than Keith could ever imagine to be. Keith still focuses on his work; on what he does best. However, in the back of his mind, he is pulled into the depths of Lance’s ocean-blue eyes. He doesn’t plan on telling Lance that he is a hitman. He doesn’t plan on letting the soulmark be anything more than a fascination on his skin. He doesn't plan for the blue-eyed boy to consume his dreams. But he stumbles back in. He can’t resist the temptation. For the first time in his life, he feels the world stop. The scars no longer ache. The tug toward violence quells. If only to look into those eyes. If only to see Lance dance the night away and smile at him. If only to believe that beyond Shiro’s kind guidance and Kolivan’s begrudging mentorship, Keith could have something that he chooses for himself and it doesn’t come with calamity. That hope vanishes as soon as the realities of his job become impossible to hide. Lance’s blue eyes shine with fear and confusion and hurt and all the things that Keith hates to see. He has never had any qualms about those he’s hurt, about the blood and death on his hands, it is an expression of his rage, frustration, and skill. But with Lance, it feels so impossibly different. He can’t stand the thought of hurting Lance. He can’t stand the thought that his every act hurts Lance. That his very being hurts Lance. He can’t stand the thought that he has no way to fix it. So he pulls away, first from Lance, but that feels impossible and then with a message and an insistence, Keith’s name vanishes from hit assignments. No killing. However, he is a decent thief when he tries. And he feels as though that has to be enough. Close the door, but not the window, live with Lance, and do what he does best. A balance between the things he is skilled at and the man he’s growing to love. Lance looks at him with love and adoration and believes that he can be good. Lance believes that he can be worthy of anything and everything the world has to offer. Lance opens Keith’s eyes and heals old wounds. The breeze feels gentle, the waters calm, the earth still turns but Keith walks with it instead of against it. And the stars and moon, they shine bright and beautiful like the man that he adores.Keith may never forgive himself for getting Lance inadvertently involved with the dregs of his world. Lance vanishes and Keith doesn’t think, he acts, panics, demands, and yells and will tear Lotor in two for what he’s done and -Lance believed in him, he saw goodness and kindness in the world and strives to make things better. To heal what he can. Lance’s hurting and Keith can’t fix it. All he can do is create chaos and always do the wrong thing. All he can do is make things worse. But Lance believes in him. And, more importantly, Lance stays true to himself, even when trapped and threatened, Lance’s shaky ‘no’ is all Keith needs to ensure that to have Lance - to have goodness in his life, the window couldn’t be open. He has to close this chapter of his life.But first, he has to retrieve his boyfriend. And Keith has to hold Lance through the quakes of recovery. Keith will, because Lance is a healer, but that doesn’t mean that Keith can’t hold his weight and help Lance heal from this. If it is the last thing Keith ever does, he wants to be worthy of the kindness Lance gives him. Lance is just naturally good, and Keith knows… he knows in actuality, that Lance is just human. For all the wonder and delight that provides - Lance shares a little bit of that faith and humanity with Keith. Ready for him to take it, if Keith dares.And with an exhale, the pathway to his past vanishes from sight. And a new path appears, Lance’s blue eyes and warm smile guiding the way. ⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒ Life moves differently outside of the chaos that used to control Keith’s existence. He’s not sure he will ever grow used to the slow and mundane, but he’s starting to appreciate the pace his life offers him. Keith glances out the window, Lance’s pale blue curtains cover half of the vantage point as the autumn light spills into the kitchen. The sun dips low in the sky, the darker evenings fully in place by the passing days. Keith scratches at his chin as he hears more shuffling behind the door. Keith absently thinks it may have been helpful to read Lance’s stream-of-consciousness messages instead of skimming them. The only information that had stuck in his head was that Lance wanted him at the apartment at 4 pm (Keith reads that as 5 pm, knowing Lance) and that they were going to a party at Lance’s friend’s place. The blonde one. Bit ditzy. That’s all Keith can recall. Keith does his best to remember the important people in Lance’s life. Lance certainly had upon meeting Shiro. Granted, Lance’s skill for plastering on a smile and making it work has always been something Keith admires. When Lance met Shiro, clad in mostly Keith’s clothing, still shaking from the impact of his time with Lotor, Keith had begun to doubt his plan. However, that doubt vanishes when Shiro opens the door, takes one long look at Keith’s disheveled hair and the clothes that were too big for Lance’s body, and smiles. “How about some tea?” Shiro had offered without a word of commentary. Keith always knows Shiro to put anyone at ease and Lance’s smile morphed from forced to earnest as he leans on Keith and easily slots into the part of Keith’s life that holds actual importance. It feels calm and warm and muted in all the ways that Keith enjoys. Compared to Keith’s insulated life of interactions with Shiro and by extension, Shiro’s partner, Lance’s circle is bright and colorful to match the young man he knows. Of course, Keith remembers Lance’s family, from Lance’s kind-eyed abuela to little Silvio with the gap-tooth smile. And Hunk, who at first meeting, brings him into a crushing bear hug. Lance slapped Keith’s hands for fear that Keith may take a stab at the bigger man. Keith wouldn’t have, Lance needs to have more faith in him. He’s not that stabby. And the short one. Well, Keith knows that her name is Pidge, but he admittedly enjoys her sharp daggered stare whenever he calls her the short one. Somehow, even if home never really feels attainable anywhere other than with Shiro, Lance finds a way to surround his warmth around Keith and bring others into the fold.And Keith sees how happy it makes Lance. He remembers that once the bear hugs end and the conversation picks up, Lance eagerly looks between Hunk and Keith, his hands fumbling in his lap as he tries to hide his nervous excitement. Hunk and Keith see eye to eye in that moment, when in sync they look at Lance with such fondness. Hunk tugs Lance into a side-hug as Keith laces his fingers with Lance’s. The first meeting was followed by a second and a third. Keith doesn’t have a lot to add to the conversation, favoring silence most of the time as he observes Lance and Hunk’s animated conversations. Still, Hunk never fails to bring Keith into the conversation from time to time. Lance rests his head on Keith’s shoulder as he continues talking with his friend. By the fourth hangout, Hunk finally got Keith alone, and with a sharp jab to Keith’s chest, Hunk stated, “First of all, I like you. You clearly work for Lance and that’s important. But if you hurt him. If anything happens-” If only Hunk truly knew, “mercy is not going to be in my vocabulary, capisce?” Keith stared down at the finger resting at the center of his chest, fighting against his better instinct to throw Hunk into a crushing headlock. And then he nods, his eyes meeting Hunk’s pooling brown orbs. “Understood.” And then he met the small one, Pidge. (Lance is underselling her aggression). And the ditzy one. And slowly the stories of people that Lance goes on and on about have faces and voices for Keith to call forth. He feels part of Lance’s life. He hopes that, since meeting Shiro, Lance feels the same.His phone rings and he flinches as Iverson’s barrage of criticism comes out like floodgates. Keith watches the door, wondering how much longer he needs to endure his boss’ harsh words before he can hang up. Though, apparently that is unnecessary as with a sharp snap, Iverson dismisses him and says, “I will see you at 0600 Monday, Kogane.” Keith hangs up the phone, suppressing the urge to swear, tempting as that definitely is. He sets his phone down, pressing his thumb and index against his forehead, warding off an oncoming headache as he settles back in Lance’s kitchen chair. The chair creaks as he leans against the back, his palm bracing against the wooden seat. His phone lets out a loud ‘buzz’ and it takes everything in him not to hurl it at the wall. Monday, he’ll deal with Iverson’s inane demand. For now, as Shiro would tell him, he needs to be present. To be here for his boyfriend.His boyfriend, who is taking his sweet time in the bathroom.Which is not a new development. After the chaos of their kismet meeting, Keith had gotten to know quite a bit about Lance. Namely, that he strived to care for himself as much as he cared for others. Lance cares for others often to his own detriment. Keith remembers about six months back, Lance told him about switching from the ER to urgent care. Keith knows he stayed quiet, squeezing Lance’s shoulder and kissing his brow. Keith didn’t comment. He hadn’t wanted Lance to feel as though his choice was influenced by anything other than something he needed. But inwardly, Keith exhaled a sigh of relief. The months Keith bore witness to the chaos that controlled Lance’s life had been difficult to swallow. Keith knew that his own life was no picnic and he had more scars on his body than Lance had probably sewn up. But Keith ached with concern seeing Lance’s exhaustion mixed with his frenetic and frenzied energy. It was like watching Lance struggling to take in a full breath, every second of every day. And since the switch, Lance calms, he still seems exhausted but the bundle of nerves settles into jitters from time to time. Still, Keith won’t deny, Lance clearly loves what he does, beyond that he is good at it (and damn is he good at it), he also deeply cares. Keith admires that.He admires a lot about his soulmate.And just as Lance cares for others, he meticulously cares for himself. Lance takes intentional and purposeful care of himself. The lotions and creams and face masks covering Lance’s countertops, the teas and sweets in cabinets, the way that he splurges on silk sheets that he takes with him when they find a new apartment for him. Lance takes caring for himself seriously. Or at least in the ways that Lance can. Keith glances around the apartment. The setup is similar to Lance’s old place, tiny and quaint, though, as Lance likes to comment, “ Waaaaay better natural light." Keith never notices, though, he can’t help but admire the way Lance’s skin practically glows in the amber rays as they find various ways to lay claim to the space. So Keith can admit, the place is nice. And it’s Lance’s, but it’s also a bit his, too. There’s a lot to like about the upper floor unit with the black and white backsplash and ‘cute fixtures’ (Lance’s words not his). Keith likes it. He also appreciates fewer neighbors. Lance is far less concerned about how vocal he is. Keith taps his fingers against the wooden table, the sharp sound forming a tune as he feels his phone buzz on the wood. He exhales a sigh, wetting his lips and clearing his throat as he debates on whether or not to interrupt Lance’s flow. Lance is finally comfortable enough to not lock the bathroom door. However, that does not mean he feels inclined for company while he remains in a vulnerable position. At first, Keith hadn’t noticed. It is only after Lance’s move that Keith notices the door’s always locked. Keith could unlock it, hell, anyone in Keith’s field could’ve - but Lance never used to worry about his safety before. He used to float and flit around like a bluebird. Keith asked Lance about it, about a month after things resolved with the Lotor fiasco. Keith recalls Lance trying to play it as a joke, his smile bright as he danced out of Keith’s hold. Lance continued to brush it off until Keith held onto Lance’s waist - his hands steady and secure and whispered softly in Lance’s ear. “You don’t have to hide this, Lance. Not with me.” Keith remembers pulling back and inhaling sharply as he sees tears glistening in Lance’s frozen expression. Keith called Shiro with Lance bundled up on the couch, his soulmate’s heaving sobs the only thing he could hear until Shiro’s warm timber came through the speaker. Keith asked Shiro for some names of specialists - Shiro’s trauma history was enough for Keith to trust his judgment. Lance had started with Dr. Ryner the following week. And since, things only got better. Oh, sure, Keith hates his new job, or well, he hates that fucker Iverson. That man thinks just because Keith is supposedly new to the field, he can jerk Keith around. Keith wants nothing more than to show Iverson exactly what skills are at his disposal. Just to wipe that smug expression off the man’s face.But Lance won’t like that. What’s more, Shiro works hard to scrub Keith’s identity clean so he is at least palpable to Shiro’s military entourage. So Keith keeps his eye rolls to a minimum and his swears just under his breath. He ignores that asshole Griffin and shares a couple of decent conversations with Kinkade and Leifsdottir. And he finds his rhythm, recognizing that Lance isn’t wrong that he can put his unique skills to a different use. Keith still doesn’t tell Lance everything, but neither does Lance. There are some things they lean on others to fulfill. However, when it counts, Lance leaps into Keith’s arms eagerly and with delight and Keith sweeps Lance into his arms like he is meant to hold him. They make it work and for once, after nearly a year of knowing about soulmates and all the craziness in the stars, it actually works in their favor. Keith doesn’t have to love his job to recognize that he can spend his evenings with Lance, he can wake up to Lance curled up against his chest. He can spend a Saturday going grocery shopping with Lance and get a shocked expression when he grabs two packs of instant ramen. He can call Lance on his phone and not need to tell Lance about a secret second or third number hidden in the depths. He can pick Lance up from a long shift, morning, evening, or night, and feel Lance’s arms snug around his waist as they weave through the city. He can take Lance to the cabin and watch as Lance builds a garden in his backyard, tomatoes, and leafy greens bursting from the ground like a miracle. He can gasp as Lance rubs his dirt-caked hands against Keith’s white shirt and delights in the surprised yelp as he grabs Lance around his waist and lets Lance drag his dirt-clad fingers through his thick hair. He can learn that, in fact, he can cook things that actually taste fresh. And he can watch Lance dance in his kitchen as he mixes spices and twirls as he sautés vegetables. He can do all the things he missed - all the things that made his time with Lance feel like an incomplete story. He can watch his soulmate come back into himself and do so with his beaming smile that sets Keith’s heart aglow. So he’s grateful. He doesn’t regret leaving the world of hits and theft behind. He doesn’t mind finding new ways to fit into the world and wipe his hands clean of the only thing he ever thought he was good at. He appreciates all that Lance helps open his eyes to, knowing that leaving helps keep Lance safe. He hears humming from behind the door, Keith pushes the chair back, the screech of the wood against the flooring breaking the room’s silence. Keith slides his phone into his pocket, adjusting his hair as he leans against the edge of the table and waits for Lance to emerge. Keith’s phone buzzes again and he groans, reluctantly reaching into his pocket to tug it out. He sees a barrage of unread messages and debates on whether or not he wants to read Iverson’s tongue lashing, or whatever the fuck Griffin wants or -Keith prides himself on his level of awareness, being hypervigilant and aware of his surroundings is honed and primed at the ready. He only ever lowers his guard at Shiro’s place, but everywhere else? No way. Keith has to be on it. Keith almost never gets caught unawares, so he supposes it must mean something about his boyfriend that Lance rapping his knuckles against the doorway has Keith nearly jumps out of his skin. He jerks his head from his phone and takes in the sight of Lance. He swallows thickly. Blinking once. Twice. And taking in a steadying breath. Lance leans against the frame of the door, his wavy curls tuck against his cheek as he leans the side of his head against the wood. He’s clad in white. Peeks of tan skin show through the stark whiteness. And… It shows. Long transparent stocking stretch to just above Lance’s knees, a peek of tawny skin poking through as Lance shifts in the costume. Lance’s outfit cuts shortly before his thighs, a tight white nurse’s costume, accented with red icons around his chest and sides. There’s a plunging neckline and the tiny anchor necklace that Keith gifted Lance for his birthday rests at the center of his chest. Keith doesn’t know where to focus his eyes, every part of Lance looks intoxicating and overwhelming and wonderful all at once. Especially, as Lance shifts and with each movement, some new stretch of skin and beauty unveils in the amber light. “So… how do I look?” Lance asks pushing off of the frame of the door and doing a spin in a demonstration. “I know, I know, I doubt that this is what Romelle meant when she said ‘traditional’ outfits for her party, but,” Lance waves his hand and walks towards Keith. At some point, Keith must’ve moved back to the chair as he stares up at Lance’s long lithe frame, stretches of tan skin, and a cinched waist. Lance looks gorgeous. Which is nothing new, Lance is always beautiful in Keith’s eyes, but holy shit, this man. Lance is still talking. The words kind of filter in as Keith’s eyes gloss over the skirt that settles at Lance’s thighs.“And we all know, she is not gonna be in a traditional nurse get up. Nope. No Nurse Ratched here, not when she wants to woo Allura.” Lance clicks his tongue, “Poor girl.” He remarks then continues to approach Keith, filling the silence. “But, if she gets to look sexy then I do too. I didn’t go through Organic Chemistry not to look smokin’,'' Keith watches a smile crease Lance’s lips.Lance lets out a squeak as he is close enough for Keith to grab, Keith’s hands settling at Lance’s sides as the nurse stumbles forward. “Smoking for…?” Keith asks with a lift of his brow.Lance releases a breathy laugh, “ Me. And mostly you,” he leans down and presses a kiss to Keith’s cheek, humming as his lips brush Keith’s day-old stubble. Lance pulls back, then he settles in Keith’s lap, his legs straddling Keith’s waist. Keith lowers his hands to cup Lance’s backside, Lance slipping his arms around Keith’s neck. Keith inhales slowly and catches Lance’s sweet cinnamon scent with each inhale. He wants to bury his face against Lance’s body and take in all the spice and wonder of his soulmate. “Good,” he mumbles against Lance’s neck, pressing his lips against Lance’s thready pulse and applying pressure. His intent to mark his soulmate with every love bite imaginable is shattered when Lance pokes at his chest. Lance lets out puffs of warm breath as Keith presses his lips to a new bruise on Lance’s slender neck. Keith flicks his eyes up and takes in the glow of Lance’s cheeks, the splash of freckles across his nose as he lets out a breathy exhale. Keith is fairly certain that if he keeps up with this, the brush of lips and press of hands, the party will be the last thing on Lance’s mind. And with how alluring Lance looks, Keith is not opposed to skipping this social gathering (granted, he feels that about most things social). Keith brushes his lips under Lance’s chin, the other man tilting his head up as he shifts closer to Keith, his legs tucked around Keith’s waist. Keith feels pressure growing against his pants and he exhales a hot breath against Lance’s dewy skin. Yep. Who cares about a party when Keith’s got -“Hey, where’s your costume?”Lance breaks from his reveries and Keith blinks at the sudden question, pulling back and seeing Lance’s scrunched expression as he looks pointedly at Keith. “My what?”“Your costume! We’re going to a costume party. Inspired by whatever line of work we do,” Lance reminds, motioning around his tiny kitchen, the ornamental orange and black decor plastered around, the “pre-approved” fake spider dangling in the corner of the kitchen. Earlier in the month, when Lance dragged Keith to the mall to shop for the right decorations, Lance talked about how when he first came to the States, things like Halloween were foreign concepts just talked about on the shores of his home. “While I don’t really get it, it’s fun and I get to dress up and you know I look great in everything and -” Keith remembers nodding sagely as Lance narrated his feelings towards the foreign fall holidays. Keith must’ve missed the memo about a costume party. Lance’s text paragraph feels like a murky memory as he tries to call it forth. “Um,” Keith starts as Lance looks at him with a pointed expression. “I’m wearing it?” “You wearing-” Lance splutters, “this is what you always wear!” “This is what I wore for jobs.” Keith shrugs, his fingers bracing against the expanse of tawny skin as he pushes up the skirt. “Former jobs,” Lance says, his tone clipped as Keith feels tension under the surface. Keith exhales and slips his hand from Lance’s side to cup the back of his head.“Former jobs,” he assures. “Well, I’ve definitely seen hitmen wearing costume-worthy things,” Lance argues once the reassurance settles under his skin.Keith decides to play along with Lance’s argument, “Hitmen don’t have ‘outfits’.”“They so do. I’ve seen them!”“Where? In video games? Movies? This is real life, Lance, my job was to blend.” “Tell that to your mullet.” Keith gapes and his eyes shift towards hurt, “I thought you liked my hair,” he mumbles, his hands bracing against Lance’s hips. “I love your rats' nest hair, but it is not blending in worthy.”Keith looks thoughtful and then huffs, shrugging his shoulders, “Well, as I recall,” his finger tucks against the fabric of Lance’s underwear, the fabric ridiculously lacy and soft to the touch. Keith feels Lance's warm skin against the pads of his fingers, “this is not your normal scrubs.”“Yeah,” Lance agrees and drags his hand through Keith’s hair, “because I’m going with the sexy look. As stated.” Lance turns his head just a touch, the angle of the outfit showing off his clavicle and the freckles that speckle across his neck and chest. “I know what you’re gonna say next.” “Do you?”“Mmhm, I’m already sexy in whatever I wear, I know that. I am very comfortable in my skin, obviously.” Lance takes in a loud breath, “And no matter what those assholes say, I don’t need their validation,” he flicks his hair, “to know it.” He pauses, “Not you, babe, your validation is awesome. Anyways, so I just wanted to like reclaim my se-”Keith leans forward and steals a kiss from Lance’s lips, his breath warm and inviting as Keith presses his lips against his lover. Lance turns his head as the kiss deepens and Keith’s hands shift to grab the back of Lance’s skirt, his hands braced against Lance’s ass. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, sweetheart.” Lance wets his lips and looks a little sheepish as he nods, Keith feels Lance twist a finger around the lock of his hair and bites at his lip. “I know…” he huffs out a breath and Keith watches as his expression grows distant. Lance is lost in thought and Keith doesn’t want to interrupt him. However, the dazed expression fades as Lance refocuses his blue eyes on Keith and frowns.“You didn’t read my text, did you?”Keith wonders just how red his face appears, “uh, it… uh, it was lengthy.” Lance pouts and tugs at one of Keith’s locks, “It’s gonna look weird when I’m the one in a costume and you aren’t. Do you have something from work… or Shiro?” He protests, not dismissing the fact that his walls of text messages were an acquired taste. Keith tilts his head and looks considerate then he smiles, bridging their lips together in a kiss. “I’m dressed as a conscientious objector.” Lance blinks, the word settling in his head as Keith watches him translate it and chew it over. Then the sound Keith loves most in this world comes bubbling from Lance’s mouth. Lance lets out a laugh, slipping his hands around his waist as the laughter nearly splits him in two. “Oh my god. Was that a joke? Did you just make a -” Lance grins and flings his arms back around Keith, “fuck, I love you so much.” And Keith’s life feels a little lighter even as he lifts Lance in his arms and holds him tight. Keith needs no more encouragement as he forgoes Lance’s plans to talk to people as he carries Lance back into their bedroom. ⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒ Keith is set to start and end this evening very differently than planned, especially as he takes in Lance’s beaming smile. Lance exhales a huff as Keith grabs him around the waist and tries to haul him back to the bedroom. No party as planned. But that delight of kisses and hot press of hands is short-lived as Lance pushes his palms against Keith’s shoulders and shakes his head. “We’re going to this party,” Lance declares, patting Keith’s back as the man sets him back down with a frown. Or well, closer to a pout, but Keith will never admit that. Lance gives Keith a sympathetic smile and pecks his lips, “later, Keith,” he promises, his palm brushing against his thigh lifting the white fabric and showing tan skin. Keith will wait an eternity if he has to, just to see that smile, just to watch Lance look so incredibly comfortable in his skin, just to have and hold Lance. So, with a grunt and a nod, he leaves the apartment with Lance in tow.Keith listens to the clack of Lance’s heels as they turn the corner towards Romelle’s apartment. Lance’s impossibly long legs look even longer with his completed look.Keith’s sour expression remains. Not only does his boyfriend, looking unsurprisingly ravishing, deny Keith the opportunity to sate his curiosity, but Lance insists on just walking instead of his bike. Lance’s echoing words, “I’m not ruining my hair with a helmet. It’s four blocks, Keith!” Keith is down an evening with only Lance, doesn’t have his bike to cling to, and now he has to be social. “Can’t we just stop by,” he grumbles, “you know, since it’s my birthday.” They pass a row of apartments. He can still feel his phone buzzing in his pocket and he swears he will strangle Iverson, screw the consequences. Well, the legal ones, he really could care less about. Lance won’t be a fan but he’s never met this asshole. Lance spins around, his shoes hitting the cement with an almost tap-like rhythm. Though, everything Lance does feels like a dance in Keith’s observation. “Ha. Nice try, that was last week and I gave you the best birthday ever.”Keith grumbles, looking off to the side as Lance grins. “Admit it,” Lance singsongs.Keith presses his lips tightly, following Lance as the other man skillfully walks backward.“Admit it~” Lance repeats. “It was good.” Lance lets out a laugh. It sounds like bells to Keith’s ears and he almost trips as he follows a step behind Lance’s feather-light dance. “It was good? Baby, I rocked your world.” Lance lifts a finger and wags it in Keith’s direction before he adjusts his hands and presses his index finger against his opposite fingers as he counts. “Let’s see, there was the homemade meal, I had to promise my mamá our firstborn for that recipe by the way,” Lance smiles cheekily and turns around to face the street, continuing to count. “The handmade hippo stuffie,” he reminds, “and your ridiculous fingerless gloves. The five-mile hike to the falls…”Keith interrupts Lance’s lecture as he places those very same gloves around Lance’s hips and tugs him back. The black leather feels smooth against Keith’s palms, with little accents of red thread looping around Keith’s fingers. “Oh, I’m not done,” Lance ignores the warmth emanating from Keith’s palms. “Ma-ra-thon sex. You know it. I know it. We had it. I rocked your world.” He repeats and rests his head back against Keith’s shoulder, his blue eyes shining under the streetlight. Admittedly, Keith still doesn’t want to go to any social event, but Lance is right on all counts and he can’t deny it. “How can I argue with that,” Keith hums, leaning down and pressing his lips to Lance’s scrunched forehead.“You can’t,” Lance concludes.“I can’t.” Lance twists around and throws his arms around Keith’s neck, “I know socializing isn’t your favorite thing,” he acknowledges, “and that Romelle is… Romelle ,” Lance’s fingers twist around a lock of Keith’s hair. Keith releases a sigh, nodding along with Lance’s observation, “I’m happy you’re coming, though,” Lance admits, a faint dusting of red on his tan cheeks. Keith bends down and brushes their lips together, as much as the idea of striking up conversations with near strangers raises Keith’s hackles, he is a part of Lance’s life. And he loves every second of that experience. Keith wraps his arms around Lance, their chests pressing close as the kiss deepens. As he holds Lance, he feels Lance shaking, fighting off shivers. “You’re cold,” Keith whispers against Lance’s lips. “My fault,” Lance shrugs and lowers his hand to tug at the costume, Keith shifts and starts to shrug off his jacket, the leather slipping down Keith’s arms. Lance lifts a hand to Keith’s shoulder, “I’m fine, Keith, I can tough a couple more blocks.” He slips his hand to rest against Keith’s cheek, looking at him with fondness and love. Keith’s body freezes. Still not used to that gaze looking at him with such unending affection. Still adjusting to the feeling as though he can be worthy of those eyes on him. Keith shrugs back on his jacket and slips his palm against Lance’s palm, lacing their fingers together. Lance still feels cold, his fingers like little icicles, but Keith respects Lance’s request and shifts as they walk toward Romelle’s place. As they walk, Lance talks animatedly as Keith nods, Keith’s gaze casts over the streets. Darkness covers the streets, shadows elongated from the streetlights. Keith moves his hand from Lance’s palm to slip around Lance’s waist, tucking him closer. Lance doesn’t appear to notice Keith’s protective stance, but Lance rarely ever does. Even though Keith left the world of violence behind, it hadn’t left him. Somehow, even with the protections Kolivan sets in place, there are still lingering incidents. Mostly, out of eyesight of Lance and his life, and nothing so gruesome that Keith needs to call on old contacts. A familiar face will spot him and Keith will need to remind another person just what to expect from him. An interaction with someone at work led to black eyes, split lips, and firm consequences. A guy at a club would look at Lance the wrong way, or well, any way, and Keith would quickly remind him where his eyes are meant to be. Lance, typically, obliviously dancing the night away. And Keith loves seeing Lance dance and spin and smile again. But still, just like always, violence gravitates to Keith. It is less, certainly, but it isn’t nothing. Keith isn’t sure if his life will ever be calm . Keith steps assuredly with Lance, his eyes scanning the streets as they walk. Lance mentions something about an upcoming shift he needs to cover as Keith flicks his eyes to a streetlamp, seeing a shadow pass by, the figure cloaked. A flash of silver. Keith tenses and Lance twists to look up, his hand brushing Keith’s arm, “Keith, is something wrong?” Lance follows Keith’s gaze and his breath hitches as he presses himself closer to Keith - seeing the shine of silver as well. Then it’s gone. Or they’re gone. Keith stays rigid and stiffly pulls out his phone, sending a quick message to Kolivan, the only contact to still exist on his phone. Kolivan does not tell Keith what happened to Lotor or his two employees after they’d left. Telling Keith that it’s better to not know, now that he is out of the game. But the anxiety still exists - especially in Lance. Keith tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns to look at Lance. He expects that he may need to soothe his soulmate, and coax him back into the realm of safety and security. He expects perhaps a frozen expression of fear or trepidation. He sees none of those things. Lance mumbles under his breath a string of Spanish that Keith barely hears, let alone understands. Then Lance’s eyes flash as he looks up at Keith and shows fury and frustration.“Even if that bastard is there, was there,” Lance snaps, shaking his head, “if,” Lance swallows, then takes a steadying breath. “Fuck it. He’s not controlling my life ever again. Or yours.” Lance looks up at Keith and grabs his hand, not waiting for a response as he stomps the rest of the way to Romelle’s. Keith looks at the back of Lance’s head. He watches as Lance’s waves bounce as he continues his heavy tread. Lance is fuming. At the mere thought of someone like Lotor or the idea of Lotor ruining his evening, let alone their lives. Keith hates that Lance’s overly kind heart had to be spun toward hate, but, admittedly, Lance taking control burns a fire in Keith’s stomach. Keith doubts that anything Lance does will not set him alight with desire and affection. Keith doesn’t manage to respond to Lance’s earlier declaration as they ascend the sets to Romelle’s apartment and Lance presses the buzzer hard . A voice crackles through, followed by some laughter and a ‘woop’, and then, the door buzzes and Keith opens the door for them. Lance takes one final steadying breath and then twists to face Keith, grabbing him by both his cheeks and pressing his lips to Keith’s, a press of a hot and angry kiss. “Fuck that guy,” Lance hisses, tears pricking his eyes as he pulls away. Keith takes his free hand and slips it around Lance’s waist, pulling him into a hug. Keith wets his lips as he feels Lance shaking against his chest, though Keith can't tell if it was due to the cold or Lance’s earlier distress. So he says the only thing that makes sense to him. “Hey, let's show the blonde one that you’re the sexier nurse.” Lance’s bell-like laughter is enough to know that it was the right thing to say. ⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒ Lance is easily the center of the universe in Keith’s eyes. The most beautiful being that Keith has ever seen. Lance’s friend doesn’t hold a candle against Lance. Though, she certainly tries. Lance’s guess that Romelle would also twist the rules of her own costume party is accurate, as the bubbly blonde pulls Lance into a hug, talking animatedly and loudly as she shows off her equally skimpy get-up. Where Lance’s long lithe frame makes him a beauty to behold, Keith begrudgingly can admit Romelle’s figure works for all the curves of the tight outfit. “You look so good!” She exclaims as she demands for Lance to do a spin. Keith thinks she’s drunk. Speaking of drinks. He needs a beer. He closes the door to the apartment, scanning his surroundings quickly to assess the areas of concern. Keith still feels unsettled by the mere reminder that aspects of his life could haunt him. Could haunt Lance’s life. Keith flicks his eyes to the door and instinctively locks it as the pair gush over each other's look out of the corner of his eye. Keith exhales softly and squeezes Lance’s shoulder before moving past them and taking purposeful steps around the apartment. Lance had given Keith a general sense of what to expect from Romelle’s snug home, but it certainly is… colorful . Knick knacks and an assortment of things rest on every shelf and table, big and small. It is all just so busy. Lance laughs loudly behind him as Keith walks toward the kitchen nook. The apartment is semi-full with a costumed crowd, but with the number of doctors' coats and scrubs, it seemed like only Lance and Romelle decided to go the more risqué route. Keith tugs open the fridge and grimaces at the assortment of fruity options before digging in the back of the fridge for a beer he could tolerate. Ideally, he would like to stay clear-headed, maybe that flash of silver really was something to consider a threat. But his incoming headache and the blast of pop music demand this drink. He closes the fridge door and turns to see Hunk, the man sports a thick beard and dressed in a suit and a pair of circular spectacles. Oh, and a notepad in his right hand.Keith nods in greeting to the man, flicking off the beer cap and taking a swig. “Hey Keith,” Hunk greets, his voice warm and welcoming as ever, “how are things?” “Uh,” Keith starts, shifting on his feet and grimacing as the voices in the other room echo in his own thoughts. Keith likes quiet and certainty. It was why he always tried to work under the cover of night, away from crowds and prying eyes. It was why he could focus on his target, be it a person, thing, or his soulmate. Less to attend to, and fewer things out of his control. “Fine,” he finishes and twists the bottle in his palm. He hears Hunk hum, and then the other man continues.“Pidge and I are hanging in the bedroom if you need quiet.” Keith stiffens a little, he blinks up at Hunk and frowns. Hunk lifts a brow, “doesn’t take a genius to know a fellow reluctant party-goer.” Keith lifts the bottle to his lip and feels a warmth settle in his body completely separate from the alcohol. He mutters a ‘thanks’ and turns to look toward the main room. Lance glows in the lamplight. “I…” he starts but watches as Lance shimmies in tune to a song, spinning with Romelle. Keith’s words fade from his mouth, from his head, from his very being. He’s not sure if his heart could beat any louder. “Wow, you’re smitten,” Hunk laughs light-heartedly, scratching at his beard, “is that soulmate magic or just Lance?” He asks as he tugs the fridge open, pulling out his own drink as he turns to look at Keith with a small smile. Keith presses his lips together, raising and lowering his beer, his gaze still focused on Lance and his glowing beauty, “honestly, just Lance.” Keith flicks his eyes to Hunk and feels the warmth of Hunk’s expression focused on him. A kind of pride and hope in the other man’s expression.Hunk nods, “Right answer,” his lips twist into a teasing expression. “You planning on making it official, y’know, without the supposed fates?” Keith nearly drops his beer as he turns to face Hunk fully, shocked into silence, his brows knit together. “Official?” He asks, his voice shaky as he parses through the words. “Sure,” Hunk nods, lifting a hand and wiggling his fingers, “Lance is a romantic to his core.”Keith brushes a hand against his brow, pushing back his hair, Hunk continues, “I don’t think he cares how you found each other,” he remarks, Keith isn’t so sure about that but he doesn’t break Hunk’s flow, “and I just want him to be happy and safe.” Hunk flicks his eyes toward Lance as he adjusts Romelle’s hair and seemingly gussies her up for Allura’s arrival. “I…” Keith grits his teeth as the words become difficult to muster, “I want that for him too.” “I think you’re doing it, man,” Hunk remarks, “Lance, he’s a different guy since he met you. Just…” Hunk sighs, “Listen, his family isn’t here as much as he’d like. And Veronica doesn’t have the free time to really visit as much as I think any of us want.” Hunk’s speech speeds up, “And if you were thinking, if you were wanting to make this serious. More serious. Not that Lance needs anyone’s blessing, but man, I love seeing him this happy. I-” Hunk chokes up and Keith’s eyes widen at the sudden emotion from Lance’s friend. Awkwardly, Keith pats Hunk’s back, rubbing the suit jacket as Hunk tries to compose himself. “Thanks, Hunk. I know he doesn’t need it. I don’t need it. But it means a lot to know, um, to know that I’m good for him.” “You’re great for him,” Hunk insists and with a sudden motion, Hunk pulls Keith into a hug. Keith stiffens but then, with an exhale, he returns Hunk’s hug and feels the warmth and comfort from Lance’s friend. Though, maybe, that wasn’t quite true. Hunk may not know deep truths about Keith, and given what those truths were, it is better that way. But, Keith thinks, as Hunk squeezes him in a tight hug before letting him go, Hunk may be his friend as well. It sends a flood of ease through him, as he slots himself more fully in Lance’s life. And begins to love the life he lives, with all the ups and downs it contains. Hunk rubs the back of his hand against his eye, pushing up the glasses and laughing shakily. And then the topic of their conversation pops into existence. “Keith! Did you make Hunk cry? What the hell, babe?”“Good tears, Lance,” Hunk defends and pulls Lance into a hug. “So, I see we’re going for the drop-dead gorgeous look?”“Always,” Lance deadpans and squeezes his arms around Hunk before glancing over his shoulder, lifting his eyebrow at Keith, a silent question on his expression. Keith bites his lips and hides his expression behind the lip of the bottle as Lance turns back to face Hunk. “And you look like a very dashing psychoanalyst.” Hunk lets out a deep laugh and as the friends catch up, Keith turns inwards, Hunk’s words settling in his head.
Official.
Does he want to really get down on one knee and confess his unending love and devotion for Lance? He feels all of those things, every second of every day he gets to adore Lance. But that doesn’t mean he wants to make a declaration out of it. Right? Keith squeezes his hand around the bottle, his heart picking up a beat as he watches Lance rubbing his elbow into Hunk’s stomach as the other man laughs. Lance exudes joy and wonder and all the good things in Keith’s life. He knows for certain that closing the door on his past was absolutely the right choice. But he doesn’t know if he still is worthy of the goodness that Lance embodies. He still thinks about what moves would best any man, he still keeps a blade on hand, he still feels quick to anger and difficult to slow. Keith will not deny that he has turned a new leaf, but the pages of the past still linger around him. Is he a fraction of good enough for someone like Lance?Keith looks up and catches Lance looking off to the side at him, his hand brushes against his ear as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, sharing a half smile toward Keith before refocusing on Hunk. Keith’s heart aches and he swallows in a gulp of air. Maybe ‘official’ never feels real because he never feels so close to the real thing. Until now. Till Lance looks at him with a fraction of a smile, safe and content in his presence, happy that he is there. Maybe ‘official’ can be real. As real as the constellation seared into his skin telling him things like fate and destiny are real. Or as real as he is willing to believe. Maybe he wants to believe in ‘official.’ And all the joys and trials and wonders that come with it. Hunk gives Lance a quick side hug and mentions again that he and Pidge are in the bedroom. Hunk’s gaze meets Keith and offers a warm smile before nodding and taking his leave. Keith steps forward, slipping his arms around Lance’s slim waist and burying his face against the back of Lance’s neck. Each inhale fills Keith’s lungs with Lance’s cinnamony scent, the other shifting from lavender to warmer spices as the seasons change from the warm summer breezes to the chill of fall. Lance lets out a soft laugh, his soft hand brushing against Keith’s hands looped around his waist. “Tired already?” Lance asks, tilting his head a little and lifting his hand to cup the back of Keith’s head. Keith exhales a warm breath against Lance’s neck, feeling Lance shiver just a hair, rather than answering with words, he manages a grunt. In actuality, Keith could have run a marathon. In actuality, Keith finds himself struggling with just what he wants to say, on how he feels so lost and found and spun around and content all at once in Lance’s gentle touch. “I need words, Keith,” Lance whispers, slipping his fingers around the bottle in Keith’s hand, he pulls it from Keith’s grip and takes a swig. “Mm, fine.” Keith mumbles, “how much longer,” he asks.“Allura is running late and I promised Romelle I’d be her wingman.” Keith squeezes his arms around Lance, pressing his lips behind Lance’s ear, and then with a huff, he pulls away. “Fine.” He settles his arms around his chest and takes a heaving breath. Lance twists around and pats Keith’s cheek sympathetically.“Go hang out with Hunk and Pidge, you big baby.” Lance’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. Keith’s eyes narrow and he has half the mind to ignore Lance, gather him up in his arms, and take their leave. His fingers flex and his instincts almost win out, but then Lance bridges their lips into a kiss. As they part, Lance presses his lips together as he peers up at Keith, the smile lingering. “Fine.” Keith huffs, his third ‘fine’ by his count. He brushes his hands against Lance’s hips, feeling the soft fabric rub against his fingertips. He lifts his head as the door opens and Romelle lets out an excited ‘welcome’ that makes him wince at the pitch alone. Lance turns his head as well, his eyes widening just a touch, and an exhaled breath. “That girl…” he mumbles, shaking his head as Romelle struggles to not fall all over a confused dark-skin woman. Keith knows that Lance will soon slip from his fingers and dance along with his blonde friend, laughing and enjoying the company of a crowd. Lance twists, extracting his hands from Keith’s waist and pulling away. Keith’s fingers curl around the fabric, tightening enough for Lance to pause mid-twist.He lifts a brow at Keith’s quiet protest, his hand brushing against Keith’s arm in a silent question. “Hey, ba-,” Lance pauses, “Keith, is everything okay?” Keith ignores the noise of the party he doesn’t want to be at, with people he doesn’t really know, for the sake of making Lance happy. Because he loves Lance, to the sun, the moon, and every star in space. He loves Lance. And he doesn’t really know how to function here. Keith’s eyes flick toward the hall as someone knocks into a table, the rattle of wood against the floor fills the space. Lance’s look of concern sets and he returns his hands around Keith’s waist. “Talk to me, Keith,” he insists, his voice as quiet as the party will allow. Talk. What does Keith want to say? How can he express the chaos that consumes his thoughts as he looks at Lance and feels so much? Too much for words or expression or thought. What can Keith say about wanting to deepen his love with Lance? What words could encompass that devotion that Keith aches to display? He doesn’t know if he has the proper thoughts - and while Keith can function in the realm of loud and chaotic. He can barely think here. This isn’t like the dance clubs where Lance looks as delectable as he always does, but where thoughts and conversation are secondary to the moving of bodies and the connection of hearts. Here, he has the opportunity to have deep conversations but without the comforts of quiet. “I-” Keith starts, then jumps back when Romelle throws her pale arms around Lance’s neck. “ Lance,” the drunk hostess whines, “you promised.” Keith looks behind her and sees the dark-skinned woman, Allura, in a doctor’s coat. She has a serious expression on her face and has her head in her phone. “She’s only got time to stay for ten minutes, you gotta help me.” Lance sighs and pats one of Romelle’s hands as the blonde unfurls from around Lance’s shoulders. Lance parts long enough to press a kiss to Keith’s cheek.“Ten minutes, okay, then, if you really want to go,” Keith can see the hurt in Lance’s eyes but Lance keeps it locked up tight, “we can go. Hang out with Hunk, if you need some quiet.” He squeezes Keith’s hand before Romelle grabs him by the hand. She grabs two shot glasses of something, one for herself the other for Lance, and drinks some liquid courage. Keith sighs and picks up his warming beer, glancing out of the corner of his eye as Lance strikes a greeting that has Allura lifting her head from her phone, scowling as she flicks her finger at Lance’s shoulder and slowly allows a smile to brush her lips. Lance always knows how to set people at ease. Just another thing that Keith feels compelled to espouse about his soulmate, if only he has the right words. Keith hovers in the hall for a moment, watching Lance smile and laugh and exist so easily. Keith loves it, because Lance takes his time to open up and feel comfortable again in his skin after the hardships of his experience with Lotor. Keith knows that truly only he knows all that transpired during those days under Lotor’s thumb. Well, perhaps Lance’s therapist as well. Lance is back in his own body and feeling in control of his life, he hasn’t told his loved ones why he was MIA for those few days. Lance’s typical refrain is something around staying at Keith’s cabin - which Lance now knows about. But never the truth. Keith doesn’t know if Lance ever will speak the truth. Not due to any shame for himself or Keith, but simply that, Keith thinks, Lance wants better days and to move forward. Things improve over the last few months, Keith pulling fully out of the more criminally inclined aspects of his livelihood, and Lance resettling into the flow and demands of his life. Keith meeting Lance’s loved ones and Lance meeting Shiro. Their entwined hands as linked as their hearts and souls.And yet, only Lance knows Keith’s past. Even Shiro isn’t savvy about everything, favoring not asking even if Keith thinks Shiro had a strong suspicion over the years. Only Lance knows that Keith’s history that he has to actively try and not repeat.
Official.
Keith huffs and presses the lip of the bottle of beer against his lip as he leans against the wall, his eyes focused on Lance.Does Keith even deserve something so lovely as that with Lance? Has he done enough to be worthy of Lance? A pit in his stomach blooms as he takes a slow breath pushing off the wall and walks toward the offered bedroom residing Pidge and Hunk. A part of him knows that Lance isn’t asking him to be deserving of him. But with all the goodness Lance exudes, Keith finds it difficult not to compare how he is just so… lacking. Keith shakes his head and pushes open the door, set to dwell on these uncertainties when his ears aren’t filled with pop music. His eyes settle on the pair, sitting on the floor with a pile of chips and cards in hand. Hunk’s jacket rests on top of the bed while Pidge adjusts her glasses and green visor that rests on her auburn hair. Pidge looks up, her mercurial gaze on Keith, “buy-in is 50 bucks. You game?” Keith blinks at the invitation and while, just moments before, he’d been plagued with an internal battle of uncertainty and insecurity, paired with a desperate urge to leave, he finds himself stepping inside the cozy bedroom. He settles onto the floor next to Lance’s friends and tugs out his wallet.“Sure. Deal me in.” ⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒ “Read ‘em and weep.” Pidge presses her cards on their makeshift poker table (a scrunched up fuzzy blanket). Pidge wears a smug expression on her face, one of her hands adjusting her visor and wearing her win with pride. Before Keith could ask about Pidge’s outfit, though he did not really care, Pidge informed him that she wears what she wants and Romelle has stupid rules. In fact, she’s more interested in winning these sets of rules. Keith glances down at Pidge’s cards, it’s a good hand. Hunk folds earlier in the game, absently tapping on his phone as he looks between the pair. Then Keith turns his cards over and shows his hand. The winning hand with five heart cards staring up at them, the king card resting on the top. “Motherfucker!” Pidge swears, throwing up her arms as her back hits the foot of Romelle’s bed. Keith lets out a low chuckle and reaches out to collect the pot of winnings. More than ten minutes go by but, as Keith settles into the comfort and teasing of Lance’s friends, Keith finds himself less inclined to retreat. Keith folds the bills and tucks them into his wallet as Pidge narrows her eyes at him. “You cheated,” her finger pokes out in accusation. Keith lifts an eyebrow as he pushes his wallet back into his pocket. “Yeah? Prove it,” he flashes a smile and catches Hunk snorting behind his phone. “Careful,” Hunk comments, “those are fighting words for Pidge.” He takes a swig of his beer and adjusts the circular glasses to rest on top of his head. Pidge narrows her eyes at Keith, looking him over for any indication of how he won. Keith offers a tight smile and crosses his arms over his chest, just like in the game, he holds his cards close to his chest and reveals nothing. Though, admittedly, he thinks he enjoys Lance’s friends more than he thinks he would. And a small part of him feels more settled and welcomed with the pair of them. Keith thinks Pidge will demand to check his pockets or start a new round, but instead, the door opens. Keith turns and sees Lance stumble in, a giddy expression on his face as he trips over his feet. In a singular motion, Keith stands and gathers Lance around his waist before he can fall on his face. “ Keith,” Lance cheers and wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders, “‘been over ten min’tes, sorry, Romelle had a,” Lance’s face turns serious, “mission. Had to see it through.” Lance’s words are slurred and Keith wonders just how many shots Romelle had thrust into Lance’s hand. Lance had always been a bit of a lightweight. Lance is still talking, his words a bit of nonsense as Keith gathers his boyfriend securely, his arms resting around his waist, keeping him upright. Lance’s body feels warm and still has a lingering scent of spice on his tan skin. Hunk looks at them with concern, pushing to his feet and pressing a palm to Lance’s head. “Hunk,” Lance mumbles, pushing at Hunk’s palm, “s’fine, got my,” he hiccups, “white knight.”Pidge and Keith snort in sync and Keith adjusts his hold on Lance, he meets Hunk’s gaze, “I’ll get him home,” he assures and Hunk’s eyes flick to Keith. The man offers a small nod and an expression of trust and belief. Hunk shifts his hand and squeezes Keith’s shoulder.“I know you will,” he looks pointedly at Keith, “‘cause you’re great for each other.” He reminds and his kind eyes never waver. Keith takes in a slow breath as Lance presses his lips to Keith’s cheek. “Hunk’s the smartest one here,” Lance stage whispers, “he’s never wrong.”“I’m right here, asshat.” Pidge crosses her arms and huffs. “Pidgey, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelin’s, you’re smart,” he hiccups again and stumbles a step as Keith adjusts his hold around his waist, “too.” He mumbles and closes his eyes, Keith feels Lance’s lashes brush against his neck. “Uh,” Keith starts as Lance tucks his head against the crook of Keith’s neck, “we’re going now,” Keith reports to the pair. Pidge shrugs and gives a dismissive wave before thumbing through the cards as if still more intent on catching Keith red handed than tending to her inebriated friend. Lance stumbles as they walk and Keith lets out a short exhale as they leave the room and walk down the hall, Lance waves at the party guests, a bright smile still on his face. As they leave, Keith fills up a glass of water and offers it to Lance, an expectant look on his face. Lance snorts and pokes his chest before downing the liquid. In the corner of the main room, Keith watches as Romelle and Allura sit tucked close to each other, Romelle’s earlier chaotic energy quelled as she catches Allura's attention. Lance’s supposed mission accomplished. Keith shifts Lance a little as the other man leans on him. Lance lets Keith guide him without care, feeling safe with Keith. Then they are greeted by cold, brisk air. Lance pauses when their feet finally hit the cement sidewalk. He straightens and brushes a hand through his loose waves. Keith glances at Lance, watching as with a few inhales some sobriety hits Lance. And then Lance leans against Keith with a groan. “Get on my back,” Keith orders and leans forward a little. He thinks Lance may protest, may demand his capability, may make a lewd joke. But he gets none of those things. Lance instead loops his arms around Keith's shoulder and with a little effort, he wraps his legs around Keith’s waist. Keith grips Lance’s thighs and adjusts him until Lance’s weight rests comfortably on his back. He straightens and begins to walk the few blocks to Lance’s apartment. Lance’s warm breath brushes against Keith’s neck as Lance mumbles a soft thank you. Silence follows as they walk. Then Lance breaks it again. “Thanks,” he repeats, “I know you hated that. The social thing.” He mumbles, his voice soft as Keith steps assuredly down the street. His eyes scan the low-lit pathway for any possible trouble ahead. “I don’t hate it.” Keith grunts.“Ha. Don’t lie.” “Not a lie.” Lance presses his lips to the back of Keith’s neck and hums, the vibrations shooting down Keith’s spine. “You don’t like it though.”Keith exhales slowly through his nose and turns a corner. “It’s… It’s a challenge. It’s not something I feel,” he considers his words, “skilled at. It comes so easily for you, baby, I just want to be able to meet that. But I know I can’t.”Lance offers a sympathetic sound, “You’re good at it, Keith,” he tightens his arms around Keith’s shoulders, a makeshift hug. “Hunk likes you. A lot.” Keith stares straight ahead, squeezing his hands around Lance’s flesh. “Would he, if he knew about my past?” Keith can’t stop the words before they tumble out of his mouth. “What I got you mixed up in?” He hears Lance’s sharp inhale and he thinks it may not be fair to ask Lance this when he can barely walk straight. Lance’s hand brushes against Keith’s shoulder and he pats it firmly, Keith slowly lowers Lance and turns to face him. Keith thinks Lance’s response will be soft, a gentle assurance, but like so many things, Lance loves to surprise him. Lance grips his cheeks, the light of a lamp glowing above them. Lance wets his lips as he tries to come up with his response. “If I didn’t trust this or us, I wouldn’t have introduced you to Hunk, hell, you wouldn’t have introduced me to Shiro. So what’s with this one foot out the door nonsense?” He asks, his eyes slowly focusing on Keith with a fierce expression. “Lance…” he starts, turning to twist out of his grip, only for Lance to tighten his hold. “No, seriously, you’ve been weird all night,” Lance lowers his hands and slips his arms around Keith’s waist. “I…” he swallows, “Is everything okay? You don’t, um… Should we not have come? I know I’m a little out of it, but don't do that thing you do, shutting me out.” Keith lifts his hand, hovering it just over Lance’s back, before he places it on Lance’s back and gives him a reassuring rub. “I’m not meaning to, Lance, just…” he takes in a breath, “sometimes I say the wrong things and,” he chews at his lip, “the thing I need to think about, it’s not something I want to say wrong.” Lance’s breath sounds shallow as he brushes his hands against Keith’s sides. “You promise,” he whispers, “you’ll tell me?”Keith moves his hands and places his fingers under Lance’s chin, slowly lifting his gaze and giving a small solitary nod. “I will.” He leans down and presses his lips to Lance’s soft, warm lips, capturing the sweetness of Lance. Lance falls into the kiss and hums contentedly against his mouth. He swings his arms around Keith’s neck and presses his tongue against Keith’s mouth, urging him to deepen the embrace. Keith wants to. But Lance is still unsteady on his feet and Keith knows that Lance is still likely confused and upset, even if he won’t voice it. He pulls back, brushing a lock of hair behind Lance’s ear.“Let’s get home, hm?” Lance’s beaming bright smile breaks through Keith’s worries as he guides Lance the rest of the way to their apartment. They tumble into the front entrance, Lance looks ready to tear his costume off. At some point, Keith realizes he is chasing the thrills of his job because he has nothing better to fill the spaces of his mind and heart. He realizes that the adrenaline of whatever he was assigned fills in the absence in his soul that with a smile Lance fills to the brim. He doesn’t need the thrill of a chase when the thrill of Lance does all of that and more.Keith helps Lance strip and slip on a cotton shirt, before the nurse can engage in kisses and soft touches, the last dregs of his energy leave him and Keith tucks Lance into his bed. The sleepy kisses replace the interest for more, but now that Keith knows that Lance owns the costume, he may have a request or two in the future. Lance hums against Keith’s lips, his eyes closed as he mumbles softer and softer words. “Thinkin’,” Lance starts with a yawn, pressing his forehead to Keith’s, “of moving to pediatrics,” his eyes remain closed as he asks, “What do you think?” At the contented look on his soulmate’s face, Keith thinks that Lance may feel similarly about vanishing a need for a thrill. Their lives, before they met, encouraged and demanded excitement and adrenaline-racing choices, both with blood on their hands but for polar reasons. But now, safe in each other's arms, the reasons to be reckless melt away in favor of the delights of each other. “If it makes you happy, then go for it,” Keith affirms, “I know you’re good with kids.” He stares down at Lance, brushing his hair from his face as Lance’s eyes flutter before settling closed, a happy hum leaving Lance as he turns on his side. Keith tugs off his gloves and changes out of his jacket and clothes. He hears Lance’s soft snores behind him. In that moment, seeing the gentle rise and fall of Lance’s chest as he sleeps, Keith lets a truth settle in him. A truth he always knew, long before he could have conceptualized the idea of soulmates, destiny, or someone as magical as Lance. The truth is that he will do anything and everything for Lance, to see him smile and laugh and delight in the world and in him . He will let go of past choices and bad decisions. He will pretend like he can wash the blood off his hands, and believe, because Lance believes, he can be worthy of the world.Keith doesn’t need fate to tell him what he knows. He’s going to spend the rest of his life with Lance. ⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒ Keith’s not much of a planner. He always relies heavily on his instincts, it has gotten him out, and admittedly in, trouble over the years. Keith doesn’t know how he is meant to plan for spending the rest of his life with his soulmate. He doesn’t know how he is meant to plan and prepare for every possible need. Not that Lance asks for that. He never asks for anything really, apart from the occasional text for Keith to pick up some sweet-smelling bath product, Lance never oversteps. The young man is incredibly self-sufficient and independent. Keith supposes they both are. But while Lance hides behind confident smiles and Keith hides behind his frowns, they do lean on each other where they can. However, right now, Keith needs information he does not have. He can’t just ask Lance if he wants to get hitched. How does Keith ever form the words? What does he have with him? Isn’t there supposed to be a ring? Or flowers? Keith doesn’t know what Lance wants, let alone how to ask for it. It had been a full two weeks since Hunk had offered the idea that the fates were just a jumping-off point for his life with Lance. He watches Lance flip through a magazine, his hair in a towel as he lounges on the couch. Lance’s silky robe cinches loosely around his waist as he hums a tune along to music, the earbuds tucked into his ears. Lance circles something on the glossy page, his feet bouncing in time with his song. Keith’s heart strains as he tries not to expel a flurry of nonsense Lance’s way. Lance’s expression looks relaxed as he twists the pen in his index and middle finger. Keith sees no better opportunity than to try his luck. He swallows and clears his throat, shifting from the table to stand in front of Lance. His heart begins to pick up pace and he thinks it may be crawling up his throat as he shadows over Lance’s leisured position. Lance looks up from his reading and pops out an earbud. His head tilts to one side in a posed question. “Uh, um,” Keith’s palms feel incredibly sweaty, he never felt this nervous during an assignment. Keith swallows and takes one more steadying breath, “Do you ever think about marriage?” He asks as his back straightens and he tugs a hand through his hair. Lance pushes up on his elbows, his finger tucks inside his magazine as he closes it, “as a concept?” Lance asks with a bemused smile on his face. “As a…,” Keith trails off, already losing momentum, “sure.” He finishes and curls his fingers into his palm. He hopes the music still playing in Lance’s earbud is loud enough to drown out his racing heart. “Good. I mean, my parents and Abuela and Abuelo have had great marriages. Lots to aspire to, y’know. Definitely, yes. But,” he shrugs, “Nothing’s official til a ring.” Lance declares with a nod and smile, then he quietly pops the earbud back into his ear and returns to the magazine. Keith blinks and loosens his curled fingers, reasoning that he just had not asked it the right way for Lance to understand his meaning. Hell, Keith can barely hear his own racing thoughts. He retreats into the bedroom as he scrambles and calls Shiro for help. He doesn’t ask the right question. Next time. He’d get it right next time. Shiro suggests a picnic near Keith’s cabin. It’s a good idea, they could gather the last harvests from Lance’s garden, mostly squash and other hearty items. At the suggestion of a picnic, Lance gives Keith a skeptical expression, opening his mouth to comment on something then shaking his head and pulling out some various pots from the kitchen.Keith ideally would not have Lance cook for the very important moment, but admittedly, if Keith cooked anything other than boiled water, at least without supervision, he may end up burning down his home. He will blame Shiro for that lack of expertise. So Lance hums and dances as he makes a stew and Keith stews on what’s next. They need somewhere to sit. Keith flits around the small cabin, gathering a blanket and filling a makeshift basket with utensils and napkins and such. Keith feels ready, in his right pocket burns a small box that he hopes will indicate his devotion to Lance. The stars on their wrists feel secondary to every memory they’ve made since meeting. The fates guided them together, and now they decide every day to continue that devotion.Keith adjusts his hair in the bathroom mirror and hums a little as he hears Lance belt out a line from one of his favorite songs. If Keith closes his eyes he can see the way that Lance’s eyes shine brightly and his lips form a smile as he sings along to his favorite tunes. These days it feels like nothing can tear Lance down. It had taken a few weeks since he had declared it, but Lance found a way to transition into pediatrics, burning through extra continuing education just to make sure he was fully prepared. Keith still remembers the first shift, Lance wears a smile bigger than the moon and practically leaps into Keith’s arms. “They’re so cute,” Lance gushes, “I swear one of them was Nadia’s twin, like a spittin' image!” Lance narrates and as Keith glides them through the city, Lance talking over the engine and the roar of the streets, his arms encircle around Keith’s waist. Fully happy and content to just be. Lance humming to songs and dancing only increased and it was an amazing thing to witness. The pull toward adrenaline-racing choices and livelihoods feels like a thing of the past as Lance’s days are filled with tiny feet and crying babies. Not Keith’s cup of tea but it makes Lance happy. And Keith, for his part, found the little leeway he has to get out from under Iverson, and well, it may be considered nepotism, but Keith does not mind reporting to Shiro. Keith steadies himself against the sink, his fingers curling around the lip of the sink as he gives his reflection a once over. He straightens and rests his palm against his pocket. “Uh, Keith,” Lance’s voice calls out from the kitchen, “I think we may have a problem with your plan.” Keith frowns and adjusts his jacket before leaving the bathroom. “What?” He asks bluntly then zeros in on the windows. Snow billows in from every angle, heavy and thick and voluminous. “Yeah… so I was wondering why you wanted to do a picnic in December, like no judgment but…” “Fuck.” Keith groans and he doesn’t know how he could’ve thought that this time of year would’ve been good for a picnic. No wonder Lance looked at him earlier like he was crazy, why had Shiro even suggested something so… fuck. Lance pulls away from the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder before he tugs Keith fully into the small cabin living space. “Hey, just because outside isn’t an option, doesn’t mean we can’t have a picnic. Get it set up, okay, over…” he pauses then glances over at the crackling fireplace, “there.”Lance leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to Keith’s lips, tugging slightly at his lower lip as their eyes meet. “I think whatever you have in mind,” he whispers, “I’ll love. But… gotta get back to the kitchen.” He finishes with a soft laugh, slipping from Keith’s hold before Keith can tighten his grip and keep Lance with him forever. Keith watches Lance stirring and humming and moving his hips in a way that balances his adorable nature with the beauty he emits. Keith slowly sets up the picnic, making sure that by the time Lance declares the food ready, the fire will crackle with warm embers and bathe Keith’s cabin in an orange glow.And then they're sitting by the warmth of the fire, Lance tugging out a bottle of wine as they spoon into the warmth of winter vegetables. Lance hums contentedly and Keith tries to focus on Lance’s words but the pounding of his heart overtakes any focus towards conversation. Lance laces his fingers with Keith and after a moment silence falls over them. Keith opens his mouth, ready to at least gear himself for the formation of a question. Then a loud noise shatters the silence. Lance’s body goes rigid at the sound, it takes Keith a moment to recognize it. Loud pained whines and barking. Lance pushes to his feet and grabs Keith’s hand, tugging on jackets as they brave the storm. And somehow, perhaps designed by the fates once more, they find a dog hurt and bleeding. Keith has to grab Lance around the waist and hold him at bay, just in case the animal’s instinct is to attack. The plan to pop the question has to wait, as Lance’s entire focus veers toward wanting to help and Keith’s entire being focuses on Lance not getting mauled by a potentially wild animal. With Shiro’s help and his truck, they get the canine to safety. That's how Keith finds himself with a ring in his pocket, waiting in a veterinary emergency room with his boyfriend holding his hand in a vice as they wait. For a dog he doesn’t know but fuck, if Lance cares about this then Keith can find a way to care too. The cabin, there are too many things that can go wrong.He doesn’t have the right environment. So he has to return to the drawing board.Hunk suggests something simple but fancy, commenting that Lance loves to splurge on champagne. And hey, it is almost the New Year so, may as well. Keith glances down at the dog, the animal resting his head on his still-healing paw. Keith points a finger at his unexpected adoption. “Don’t ruin this for me.” He scrubs a hand through his hair as he takes a steadying breath. The champagne sits on ice and Keith drops by a bakery, a tiered cake waiting in the fridge for them to try. Keith pulls out the ring box, opening it as he waits for Lance to come home from his afternoon with his friends. Keith recruits Hunk to distract Lance away from their apartment, at least to give Keith enough time to prepare this on his own. He doesn’t want Lance to have to do work for his own engagement. Keith looks down at the ring, the ring itself is a soft white gold, with tiny colorful diamonds framing the gold in a constellation of stars. Keith closes the box and returns it to his pocket. Then he waits. He checks his phone. And he waits.He types a message to Shiro. And continues to wait. And then, he hears the jangle of keys, the dog getting to his feet, his tail wagging as he waits for Lance to emerge. Lance immediately greets their newfound pet, “Kosmo, have you been the best boy, yes, I know, thank you for the kisses,” Lance laughs as the dog’s warm greeting comes with a barrage of licks. Keith sighs and presses his hand against his stomach, fighting off his nervousness. Lance wipes at his face with his sleeve, unwinding his scarf and looking at the setup. “Keith, what is this?” He asks, eyeing the champagne. “Surprise,” Keith manages and settles his hands on Lance’s hips, “up for some champagne and cake, sweetheart.” Keith watches Lance’s eyes dance with delight at the name and the offering and all Lance manages is a nod and smile. Keith takes Lance’s lead as the nurse takes a seat on the couch and scratches Kosmo’s head when the dog settles by his side. Keith gears himself for the next few moments of celebratory drinking, perhaps something sweet, and the taste of sweetness on Lance’s lips, and then, the moment he had waited weeks for will finally come through. Keith grabs the champagne bottle, gripping it tight and attempting to pry off the top of the bottle. Lance absently checks his phone as Keith is busy with the alcohol. Keith prides himself on his aim, it doesn’t take a genius to know that his aim is part of his skillset so greatly admired. However, he must be rusty as the loud pop is followed by an even louder yell of pain. The top of the champagne bottle goes flying right at Lance’s head, a big welt rests in the middle of his forehead. Lance fights back tears and rubs at his head with a wince. Keith nearly drops the bottle in the process. “Lance! Fuck, I’m so sorry, are you okay? How-” The discarded topper rests on the ground and Lance lets out a hiss of pain. “I’m okay,” he manages, rubbing at his brow, “let’s just enjoy tonight.” Keith knows that Lance is hiding his pain, Keith is an expert at it so he knows it when he sees it. He exhales and knows the box will burn deeper in his pocket for a little bit longer. “No, c’mon, you’re the one who told me possible concussions are nothing to mess with. What do you need?” Lance’s gaze softens and he presses a kiss to his cheek. Then with all the expertise that Keith so admires, Lance instructs Keith on what he needs to monitor in Lance. So the evening doesn’t go to plan, but he still gets to hold his soulmate as they watch some silly cartoon from the 80s. He’s overthinking this and, what’s worse, he’s hurt his soulmate in the process. He just has to do more with less in the next attempt.Maybe he truly has lost his mind as he asks Romelle for her thoughts. In between the excited clapping and shouts, Keith gathers that just going out for dinner and letting the restaurant prepare the setup is his best option. Still extravagant, but Keith won’t be handling any champagne bottles this time. It takes a bit of time, Keith and Lance’s mismatched schedules for a few weeks before Lance finally has the time and energy to go to dinner. Lance dresses to the nines, his hair slicked back as he adjusts his shirt. Keith feels ready. He feels as though nothing can go wrong with this attempt. He feels as though that will just be too cruel. Keith slides an arm around Lance’s waist, admiring the warmth of his body and the intoxication of his scent. Romelle suggests the restaurant, and while Keith does not have much of an opinion about the blonde, he can admit it feels like a good choice. And Keith continues to feel certain of his choice and the events that will follow and all of that and -What are they doing here?Romelle waves animatedly at Lance and Keith as she walks arm-in-arm with Allura. “Isn’t this a funny coincidence?” Romelle declares absolutely ignoring Keith’s death stare. It takes all of Keith’s willpower to not use his steak knife for anything other than cutting up his meal. His quiet dinner with Lance is squandered by Romelle’s incessant need to be in the know. Keith’s old habits haunt him easily, the urge to show her and anyone what his anger really means. He is ready to blow up or at least stab the steak knife into the table, when Lance’s hand slips into his hand and squeezes his palm reassuringly. Their eyes meet and Keith, still frustrated and irritated, lets some of that go as Lance’s smile warms his soul. Tonight is not the night. He has to control everything or this will never go right. He will not let anyone ruin this, not now or the next time. He doesn’t take suggestions this time, though Pidge mentions that he’s overthinking this, Keith knows that and that he should just ask Lance. Keith knows that. Keith still struggles to do something so minimal, not because that feels foreign to him, but rather because Lance deserves the moon and the stars and anything and everything. Keith wants Lance to know that he cares, he’s trying, and he loves Lance more than he ever has words for. So he plans something simple. Just a dinner at the cabin, no snow in the forecast and the dog left with Shiro. Tonight. He’ll do it tonight. But best-laid plans still never favor Keith. As Lance begins to fill the space with his warmth, Keith tumbles into listening to Lance talk and talk and laugh and smile and look beyond beautiful. He could spend all night listening to Lance and even if it throws a wrench in his plans, he never regrets it.He could try a thousand times over to ask Lance in just the right way, and this moment, looking at Lance’s bright smile, the way his eyes light up when talking about anything and everything, the way he exuded warmth and wonder… Keith could melt into nothing in Lance’s presence. His past is a figment of the past, his present is one where Lance looks at him with trust and love and confidence in his worthiness. His future one he hopes to spend his moments with Lance. All the plans for his next attempt fade from his mind as he leans on his palm and listens to Lance as he talks animatedly. The stars twinkle through his cabin window as the moon bathes them in a silvery glow. In the end, it isn’t some grand plan or champagne bottles or picnics. In the end, Keith goes to the grocery store and brings back a container of green jello, Lance’s favorite. In the end, after a long shift, Keith drives Lance home, Lance’s head rests on Keith’s shoulder as they weave through the city. In the end, Lance trudges into their apartment, greeting Kosmo and setting his things on the kitchen table. Keith watches as Lance sees the container of gelatin and frowns. Keith notes Lance picking up the container and reading the words that Keith had painstakingly written on a sticky note. ‘Turn around .’Keith kneels. His heart lodges in his throat. The pounding of his racing heart is the only thing he can feasibly hear as he sucks in slow breaths. And then Lance turns. Lance, his hair a mess from the helmet and his busy work day, looks beautiful to Keith. The way his eyes glow in the low light, the way his hands press to his chest expelling a soft confused sound, the way Lance’s freckles shift as his mouth tries to process the situation. Kosmo wanders close and rests his paw on Keith’s knee, Keith ignores the admittedly cute action and just waits. And then the words come to him. “I don’t need fate to tell me what I know. Lance,” he swallows, “Marry me?” Then with a flick of his wrist, he opens the box and displays the ring. Lance doesn’t hesitate. He throws his arms around Keith’s neck, “I was wondering when you’d pull out the ring.” Keith’s brows knit together, Lance beams and mouths ‘Romelle’, Keith barely holds back his eye roll and Lance fills in his question, “It’s always yes, Keith, always.” Then their lips meet in a soft, gentle kiss, broken by Kosmo’s excitement for whatever he perceived of the situation. Keith pulls back enough to slide the ring on Lance’s finger and take in a slow calming breath. Lance tilts his head and their eyes meet. “I don’t need fates either, but I’m glad they helped it happen,” he whispers and once more, draws their lips together. However, now, Lance’s finger glitters in the light of the room, underneath the view of the stars. But, more importantly, the view of each other. The fates deemed them entwined, and for all Keith’s doubts about this destiny, Keith finds that he carved his own future hand in hand with Lance. One where hurting others is not his edict; one where helping everyone is not Lance’s goal. One where, in each other, they find balance and peace and prosperity. And a joy for tomorrow.