oscar

aaaaaand it pisses everyone off

so what if he’s currently telling a story to hunk and pidge? keith just monotonely said his name from across the room. so he will stop his story and answer him with a “yeah?”.

oh he’s taking pictures and celebrating with civilians that were just liberated? sorry guys gotta go, keith just gave him the “let’s go” nod from the other side of the crowd, and he can’t just not go.

there’s a huge diplomatic dinner and lance is entertaining a group of world leaders, and he’s doing a pretty good job. buuuuut, keith just gave his sleeve a single gentle tug, so now he’s gonna stop everything to lean into keith’s space to hear what he needs to say.

lance is asleep in the common area and taking up an entire fucking couch, and literally everyone has tried waking him up but it’s no use. but keith just popped out from the training deck to the commotion. all he had to do is walk over, nudge him once with an annoyed “lance, get up.” before he’s up and out of the way (albeit sleepily)

the team is imprisoned on sendak’s ship in separate holding cells and his head hurts. god all he wants is to lay back down and to sleep through this nightmare of a situation. yet keith just called out for him, so he will sit up with aching bones, and muster all the strength he has to respond back “i’m here”

he asks everyone if they have instagram and obviously it’s varying degrees of: “oh i post all the time” to “i made it ages ago but i never use it”

then keith has the audacity to say “don’t have one” lance calls bull, everyone has instagram, the hell? they bicker, and move on. but lance didn’t. he spends most of his spare time looking for it. and he finds it! to his dismay!!

he scrolls through an ancient account @ kkgnes_ and finds pictures from:

the garrison

random houses lance has never seen

the shack

sunsets

bugs

the stars

random memes from various time periods

screenshots of albums and songs on spotify

hoverbike repair progress pics

food

the very occasional face pic

his dad and his grave

animal foot prints

a guitar

ashtrays, cigarettes, and blunts

stolen garrison textbooks

shiro and adam

gas stations

energy drink hauls

tattoo parlors

shitty diners

etc

lance had no idea there was something that had the ability to make him so happy and so genuinely sick at the same time. granted, he could say that about keith himself, but he’s not gonna get into that right now.

and sure, he was going to tease him about it. not anymore. instead he’ll just, listen. to one of those songs on the account and bring it up to keith in passing. “have you heard of this song? i think you’d like it”

yeah sure keith does the whole: “always next to him, with the possessive hand on his lower back, guiding him through the crowd, and a deadpan stare at anyone that dares to even look at lance” bit. and yeah sure it strikes a match at the deepest parts within the two of them. a mutual feeling of “mine all mine”

but lance is so. much. worse.

keith acts as a physical barrier between lance and those with a leering eye, whereas lance fights back using his words and ability to maneuver through social situations.

countless coalition dinners and diplomatic allying 101 coaching sessions with allura and coran have only sharpened his silver tongue (he’s using his training for good! he swears it!!). firstly, lance loves to use the word “my” to describe keith. my leader. my favorite blade. my emo. my black paladin. my rival. my friend. my right hand man. my samurai. my man. my future. anytime he introduces keith to someone new, for work or otherwise, it’s my my my. he stakes his claim pretty early on, no room for interpretation.

usually this coupled with the fact that keith refuses to let him out of his sight, much less arms length, gets the message across with ease. when it doesn’t, it drives lance up a damn wall. keith will fumble awkwardly through the other parties advances while tightening his grip on lances waist, a secret “give me hand here man” a distress beacon that only lance can answer too.

and lance lays it on thick, more often than not it’s a civilian of a newly added ally to the coalition. so sure, he’ll play nice. words like honey will compliment their clothes, and redirect the conversation with keith’s warm hand acting as an anchor.

when it isn’t an ally or anything of the sort though, lance is almost like some catty mean girl from the romcoms he loved watching back home. he has full clearance to be a heinous bitch.

he cuts off the other person, shifts his weight so he’s the one making eye contact instead of keith, smile with a voice like stale sugar while he lets it known that no, he’s not interested actually! yeah it really does suck that we have to leave early but man, keith just hates talking to new people. ya know, like he’s being forced to do right now. but they’ll definitely see them around in the future! besides, if they ever want an update on how he and keith are doing check out the coalition, join the rebellion! you’ll get a bunch of updates on keith and his right hand man. ya know, the one who keith chose to have his back on everything and trusts his life with? oh right, it’s lance! anyways, they’ll see you around. fucking asshat.

lance sneaks up to his room, knocks on the door quietly but annoyingly as shit. keith opens the door, obviously wide awake but in disheveled sleepwear. all lance has to do is give him a look and say, “we leave in 10, get dressed” and keith relents (he already knew his answer the moment he heard lance knocking on his door)

they sneak out, whispering to each other the entire way to the hangar. lance decides to pilot, keith sits next to him and just #notices how lance’s hands and fingers work the control panel with ease.

they pick a shabby diner, sit in old leather seats, and order full breakfast platters at 2am. lance always tries new pancake flavors, keith sticks to a comfortable buttermilk pancake. he usually just asks lance for a bite of his pancakes anyway. lance always spoon feeds him the bite.

they talk and laugh the entire time, often finding the space to vulnerable with each other. slowly moving each rib open to take care of the softest spots in their cores. it’s mutual, it’s terrifying, it’s the only time they feel safe.

keith pilots back, lance dozing off next to him. resting a heavy head at the edge of keith’s side. per usual, lance is carried back to his room. keith makes sure to change lance out of his jacket into soft pajamas (because lance has this thing about outside clothes on the bed that doesn’t make a shred of sense to keith) the only time keith’s hands linger is when he brushes lance’s hair out of his face. never his chest, or his thighs, or his back. his face. it’s peaceful, he’s peaceful. keith leaves before he does something he regrets.

they do this all the time. they don’t talk about it much. not in a “what happens at 2am stays at 2am way” but in a “this is ours and ours alone” way

lance tries not to think about the fact that he’s always tucked away in bed in his sleepwear after their excursions. keith’s hands itch to touch lance’s face while he’s awake. hold him in place to look into his eyes and finally say something he’s too scared to say out loud.

due to the nature of their work they have to be very careful about comms, lance usually leaves the room anytime keith calls. if it was a work call keith could call the castles comms, and instead he’s calling him. his personal communicator. this is a private phone call, thank you very much!

keith never lets the call go over 30 minutes at a time. doesn’t matter how many time lance whines, or swears it’s completely safe, or promises that he can take down anyone who tries to threaten him or the team. keith never lets the call go over 30 minutes.

buuut, that means that they’re intentional with their words. every word is said with the bitter thought that they don’t know when their next call will be. any call could be their last. they knew what they were signing up for with their work. they know the risks. they know the lows. all this job does is take and take and take.

even so, they get to have private phone calls for 30 minutes at a time once a blue moon. sometimes lance just scrolls through the call logs on his communicator. other times he reads back on their old messages tossed back and forth.

and on the rare occasion lance is able to see his face? he holds onto the mental image like a damn lifeline until he can hold keith in his arms again. flesh and blood. tissue and bone. heartbeat and a steely color in the eyes. he’ll be back. keith always comes back.

he’s driving himself insane. like, this has to be a form of torture after a certain point.

oh look, a new song that popped up on his spotify discover weekly that just hits him with a car and kicks his stomach in while he’s down. ya know what he’s gonna do? listen to it on repeat until he knows all the words and wants it embedded into his skin.

why? because the man yearns and pines like it’s a full time job with weekends off, consistent pay, benefits, and unlimited PTO. fuck if he isn’t gonna be employee of the month.

sometimes it’ll get to the point where he starts to hallucinate the song, it’ll be all he can think about. because damn it. something that can crack his ribs open, look deep inside of him, and point out that yes, he is in love with someone and it scares him? something like that holds a deep respect within keith’s moral code or whatever. if he feels like this listening to it, what the hell happened to the musician who wrote it?

he picked them out at some market while they were visiting a planet between missions, assuming it was just a long necklace. the vendor goes out of their way to measure lance’s waist and ensure it fits. (keith is barely holding it together while this is going on. what do you mean it’s the universal equivalent of 32 inches??) it has small glasslike beads, alternating shades of blue. they look just like his eyes. thus, lance buys it.

lance only wears the beads in civilians. but that means keith is lucky enough to see them:

when lance gets out of the shower and passes him (shirtless) on his way to his room

in the common room while he takes a nap and his shirt is crumpled up just enough to see the edge of his boxers, the plain of his stomach, and the beads at the same time

while he’s working out on the training deck (y’know, while he’s sweaty, flushed, and panting from exertion and keith just has to Not Notice™)

anytime lance just needs something to fidget with so he lifts up his shirt and fiddles with the beads between his fingers

keith has to physically stop himself from staring at lance’s stomach on multiple occasions and is damn near ready to grab lance by the beads and, cough, lose his composure on the nearest surface. yet abruptly lance decides to retire them under the guise of “not wanting them to break”

new objective: get lance more waist beads

he tries his damndest to keep up, and at first it isn’t hard. he’ll speak in spanish alone, on the training deck, while showering, in cockpits to blue and red. he’s fine, it’s fine.

in a sense, it’s his own language. his own reprieve from it all, the ability to let everything off his chest freely and without restraint.

but he looses common phrases, the pronunciations of certain vocabulary words start to slip, and god why can’t he remember the classic nursery rhymes his mom would sing to him when he couldn’t sleep?

then sam gets ready to go back to earth, and suddenly everything is ten times worse. recording his message was agony but the pain of knowing he lost such an important part of his family, their native language, was crushing.

the year and some change back to earth is spent in spanish, every time he has the chance— he takes it. and it gets better, gives him another thing to work towards. his family can see how the war sets in on his body, and hear the difference in his tongue. he’s a changed man.

it pops out a random times, he picked it up from his dad; sometimes he’s too tired, too mad, too flustered, too focused, too much of anything really. it’s rare, it throws the paladins for a loop no matter how often it happens.

lance: where’d everyone go?

a very distracted keith with half the mind to answer him: out ‘ere with coran ‘n ‘em

lance: got it

and lance doesnt fully process the change in accent until he’s halfway to the rest of the team

phrases i think he says:

fixin’ to/fixin’ ta

quit being ugly

you lie like a dog

keep on/just keep on

lord have mercy

runnin’ ‘round like headless chickens

y’all (he says y’all a lot)

bless your heart

i reckon so

the pot callin’ the kettle black

batten down the hatches

y’ain’t

angrier than normal: a pointed yellow glow in the eyes and the fangs pop out

really really really embarrassed: the lights are on and his canines are sharp

sad as hell: glowing and teeth and it pisses him off so his eyes glow BRIGHTER almost to spite him, he can see the reflection in his tears, it’s a whole thing

horny: literally everything is on full blast, even his senses are heightened (bonus: his train of thought becomes more primal than cohesive)

happy as shit: eyes are yellow and warm and all his smiles have a toothy fanged grin, a gentle halo to the features

JEALOUS: opticals are yellow and his fangs are bared at the offending person, bro starts growling and sizing them up before he can get a grip (lance secretly finds it hot)

bonus bonus: he isn’t able to control this aspect of himself until after the galran equivalent of puberty, but once he has a handle on it he usually ends up utilizing it as needed in combat, similarly to kurapika and his nen abilities. (i like to imagine he allows himself to openly showcase any galran traits popping out when alone or when with the right people, similarly to unmasking)