#catneylang

“Arrrgh!”

Pidge doesn’t even bother looking up from their screen. “Let me guess,” she deadpans, “Lance did something arousing and infuriating?”

“Argh!”

“Keith, we discussed this, use your words.”

“This …” Keith starts, foaming at the mouth and growing up without even realizing it, “this lunatic keeps on making inuendos whenever no one can catch him!”

“And you secretly love it.”

“No!”

“Your ears are pink and your marks are glowing. Beg to differ, Your Highness.”

Keith snarls at them but they only have to cock one eyebrow at him for Keith’s anger to deflate--and for his body to return to its normal size. “I do not like it,” he insists, flopping back on his bed. “Or him. But whenever he says that … nonsense, he has this smile that’s just-- and his eyes are so …”

“I’m going to make you eat a thesaurus.”

“Pidge, I’m serious, this bodyguard is going to be the death of me.”

Pidge closes their machine with a snap. “Then do something about it. Never heard of angry sex?”

Keith gapes at them. “I have. How have you heard of it?”

“Dark Web, my liege. Now go shut that bodyguard up the only way that will make you feel better and stop filling my chambers with your sappy energy.”

Keith stands up and frowns at his closest advisor. “You need to stop hanging out with the Earthlings, Pidge.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve spent a good time hanging out with your mother lately.”

“That’s even worse.”

---

“Arrrgh!”

Hunk keeps on cleaning his hatchet but Lance totally sees him rolling his eyes to the skies.

“Hunk, you’re my bestie, you’re supposed to have my back!”

“And I totally do, Lance, but if you throw your sword to our wall one more time, I will not hesitate to ask for a new bunkmate.”

Lance gasps. “You would never.”

Hunk stares at him stone faced before chuckling. “You’re right, I would never. But by the Archivist’s torch, stop pacing and tell me what your Altean prince has done this time.”

“He’s not my prince,” Lance mutters, sitting down next to Hunk to rest his head on his shoulder. “And he wants me dead.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Lance huffs dejectedly.

“Aww, come on, man, what happened during this last tour?” Hunk wraps an arm around Lance’s shoulder and pulls him closer. “Did he finally openly reject your flirting?”

“Nope. Might have been better though.”

“Come on then. What happened.”

Lance stands up because obviously, storytelling requires all of his limbs. “We were in a market on Azudor, because the planet’s governor really wanted the Alteans to see what good the alliance had done to its agriculture.”

“Oh, did you bring me--”

“Hunk, not a good time, but yes, I did bring you a bag the weird spices you wanted.”

“You’re the best. Go on.”

“So we were in the market and I was keeping an eye on all directions because if I wanted to hurt someone, I would definitely do it in a market, you feel me?”

“I feel you. We need to talk about all the Earthling lingo you’ve been using, but I do feel you.”

“And out of nowhere, Keith--”

“Prince Keith. Or His Royal Highness.”

Hunk gives Lance a pointed look and Lance sighs.

“Yes, Prince Keith stumbled on a basket and fell right into my arms.”

Hunk starts smiling.

Lance has a rotten best friend. He should hold auditions for a new one.

“Anyway, obviously, I saved him from crashing his princely face onto the ground--”

“Princely face?”

“And you know I had to say something because Hunk, my man, let me tell you this about the Altean Prince,” Lance adds, lowering his voice, “but he’s all muscle and I’m only Galran, okay? Strength is like my one big button.”

“Along with purple eyes, long, silky black hair and snark by the pound, yeah I know your type buddy.”

“Precisely.”

“What did you say?”

Lance bites on his lower lip. Hunk holds up his hands in supplication. “Lance, what did you say to the Altean Prince, present heir to the throne of the Empire?”

“Told him I knew he would fall for me eventually.”

“Oh, Lance …” Hunk starts, barely repressing a snort. “That is … that’s bad.”

“But that’s not even the worst!” Lance exclaims, dropping back next to Hunk who instantly hugs him because he is the bestest friend possible.

“Oh?”

“I mean, if he had snarked back or pushed me away, or something like he usually does, I would be fine!”

“But?”

“But he said nothing! Just looked at me upside down with those eyes wide opened and those perfect pouty lips parted like--like …”

“Like?”

“Like I was right.” Lance’s voice is barely above a whisper as he buries his face in Hunk’s shoulder.

“Why is that a bad thing? Au contraire, mon frère,” Hunk says happily, “if he did fall for you, then you can--”

“What? What can I do, Hunk? He’s royalty and I’m … me!”

“A catch?”

“I love you, Hunk, and you flatter me, but--”

“You’re about to talk unkindly about my best friend and I cannot let that happen,” Hunk interrupts, putting his hand over Lance’s mouth. “Now you’re going to listen to my wise words and you’re going to actually listen carefully.”

Lance tries to bite Hunk’s fingers but not to avail. “Humph.”

“Good boy. Now, from what you’re saying, the prince may feel something akin to interest for you, despite what you may think about your worth.”

“Brumph!”

“Those laws about bodyguards and their charge are antiquated at best, classist at worst, and really, what is the worst case scenario here?”

Lance mimics cutting his own head.

“Drama king.”

Lance pushes Hunk away. “The law may be ancient and inadequate for the modern world, but it still exists!” he cries out. “If I were to date Keith, and if we were caught, the lesser punishment would be an exile, Hunk. I can’t--”

“Isn’t love worth the risk, though?” Hunk’s voice has gone soft like it always does when he thinks of his fiancée waiting for him on the outpost of Balmera.

Lance sighs. “Maybe it is.”

“Stop feeding him lines, though,” Hunk adds, pushing himself to his feet to clap Lance’s shoulder. “Be true about your feelings, and see what comes out of it.”

“Lance!”

Kolivan’s voice booms into the tent, preceding him by a solid couple of tiks.

Hunk and Lance immediately straighten up, at the ready when their commanding officer enters their quarters. “At ease,” Kolivan says roughly. “Lance, the prince has asked me to warn you that he wants to go to the fair organized in the town’s agora so get ready.”

“A-all right, sir,” Lance stutters. It is unusual for Keith to let him know where he wants to go in advance. Usually, Lance has to sneak on him to prevent the prince from going out by himself.

---

Keith does not pace nervously at the palace entrance.

Absolutely not.

A prince does not display nervous behavior, after all, Coran raised him better than that.

He’s just ….

Impatient, there you go. Keith is impatiently waiting for his bodyguard to deign to show up.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, your Highness.”

Speak of the devil …

As Lance approaches, Keith has to remind his body how to breathe. Did Lance do something to his hair? His face? His what?

He looks … taller, and yet softer at the same time.

The absence of metallic clinging when Lance comes to a halt in front of him gives Keith his answer. Lance looks softer because he’s not wearing his armor. No, he’s dressed … casually smart, if Keith was inclined to use Coran’s vocabulary regarding fashion. A soft looking tunic with white embroideries around the neck under a khaki jacket with a hood--once a member of Blade, always a member of the Blade, even out of the uniform?--, tight Galra pants with shimmering lines and ankle-boots that look well-worn and well-cared for.

He looks …

He looks cuddly and Keith wants Voltron to bury him before he does something stupid.

“You look good.”

Or say something stupid, but some wishes are not to be granted, are they?

Lance flushes at his praise and smiles shyly. “Thank you, Your Highness. I figured it would be better not to attract any attention on you by wearing my armor.”

“That’s … very considerate, thank you, Lance.”

They start walking toward the hoverpod waiting for them. Lance keeps on sneaking glances at him but Keith tries his hardest not to look back.

“So,” Lance starts, voice strangled for some reason before he clears up his throat, “you finally decided to accept the idea of having me around for protection?”

The last two words sound like a hasty addition. Keith does look at Lance and sure enough, the flush hasn’t faded from his lavender face.

“I never resented you, Lance,” Keith starts but huffs when Lance raises one eyebrow at him. “All right, we had our disagreements, but it’s the idea of needing a bodyguard that gets on my nerves not--not the bodyguard per se.”

Keith can feel his marks glowing as he blushes too, but Lance’s beaming smile is worth the temporary embarrassment.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Lance says softly, holding up his hand for Keith to grab on as he climbs on the pod.

Keith climbs behind Lance and wraps his arms around his waist. If he holds on tighter than strictly necessary, that’s for him to know and for Lance to gloat about.

“Can I drive on the way back?” he asks, leaning closer to Lance’s ear.

Close as he is, he can feel the full body shiver that goes through Lance’s long frame. “We--we will see.” Lance pauses, glancing at Keith and praise the Lions but if he just turned his head a bit Keith could easily kiss him … Lance’s eyes widen and Keith feels like a kid who just got caught with his hand in a jar of nunvill jam. The corner of Lance’s mouth lifts every so slightly.

“Depends if you behave, sweetheart.”

Usually, when Lance starts flirting, Keith finds a way to shut him up or simply barks in his face. But this time around, he doesn’t want to.

No, if he’s going to see if there is something behind Lance’s words, if there is a genuine attraction and not just a need to flirt with everything with a heartbeat, Keith needs to play along.

“And if I misbehave?” he retorts, not moving away and allowing himself a smirk of his own. “Will you punish me, darling?”

Keith never saw a Galra turn this particular shade before, but it’s a very interesting one for sure.

---

Lance is going to die and it will be all because of Keith’s flirtatious smile.

That thing is a weapon of mass destruction and should come with a manual.

---

The fair is animated when they reach it, but they can still walk through the stalls without having to fight for their lives.

In spite of his teasing, Keith doesn’t want to walk away and lose Lance in the crowd. If anything, he walks as close to his bodyguard as physically possible without climbing him like a tree and his brain should stop the images right there.

Around a corner, a group of kids come running stampede-style and Lance puts his hand on Keith’s chest . The warmth that comes from him is insane.

“You ok?” The worry in Lance’s eyes is not faked, and there is no punchline, no flirtatious pun following it.

Well, fuck.

“I’m fine,” Keith replies a bit gruffly. Lance’s face falls and Keith doesn’t like the guilt it evokes immediately. “I’m fine,” he repeats, more softly this time as he pats Lance’s shoulder. “Let’s see who has the best aim.”

Lance brightens up, even as his eyes drop for a tik to the spot where Keith’s hand was. “Naw, come on, your Highness, you know I’m the sharpest shooter in the Blade!” he exclaims, opening his arms wide. The gesture pulls the fabric of his shirt across his chest and Keith would love to follow it with his fingers. “It’s not a fair fight.”

“But I am not in the Blade,” Keith replies sweetly, tapping the tip of Lance’s nose. “So even when I do beat you--”

“Doubtful.”

“--your title won’t be contested. What do you have to lose really?”

Lance crosses his arms over his chest and squints at him. “Promise you won’t have me punished for humiliating you in public?”

“Promise.”

“Then let’s whoop your ass and win some fluffy toy!”

In the end, the merchant ends up giving them both plush toys to get them to leave his booth--between Lance’s competitiveness and Keith’s aggressive throwing, the poor guy wasn’t sure his attraction would survive if they stayed for one more round.

Lance carries his Voltron on his shoulder, like a toddler, while Keith wrestles with his White Lion for a couple of booths until Keith decides to go for it and just tell Lance that they should solve their disagreements in the most pleasurable way.

That was his intention, anyway, until Lance stops in a quiet spot near the fried food section.

“Keith, may I tell you something?”

Keith sends a silent prayer to whoever is listening that Lance won’t say something that will make Keith run for the hills and nods.

Lance takes a deep breath, his fingers tightening on the leg of Voltron. “I wanted to tell you--to make sure that you understand, without subtexts or possible misunderstandings,” he starts, taking a deep inhale, “all that flirting I have thrown at you since we met is over.”

Oh. Keith almost drops his White Lion in the dirt but he squeezes it harder. “Oh,” he says, dropping his gaze.

“No, no, not like that,” Lance hurries to say, his hand finding Keith’s chin to make him look in his eyes. “I mean that I am going to stop the outrageous lines because I need to be true about--about how I feel. For--for you.”

“Oh!” Keith leans into Lance’s touch and takes a step closer to the Galra.

Lance moves his hand to cup Keith’s cheek fully. “I would really like to call you ‘sweetheart’ and take you on dates,” he says in one breath, “even though I won’t be able to take you to high-end places or gourmet restaurant--I make mean milkshakes, though …”

“Lance,” Keith says, putting one hand on Lance’s chest, “I--I don’t need high-end places. This,” he adds, gesturing at the fair with his plush lion, “is good. Anywhere where we are honest with each other and having fun is fine, really.”

His ears feel like they are one fire and he’s pretty sure his marks are glowing insanely, but Lance’s marks have taken a darker hue too, so Keith can bring himself to care. Not when Lance’s eyes shine so bright, not when his smile is so wide and not when this little hiccupy sound come out of his mouth as he leans in.

Not when Lance’s kiss silences the fair around them.

When they part, Keith smiles and pushes the lion in Lance’s arms. “This was for you, by the way, you insufferable git.”

Lance gently lands the Voltron plushie on Keith’s head. “And this is yours, your Haughtiness.”