#lurance

“That’s great. This is the greatest thing that has ever happened, ever,” Lance says, grinning and bearing it.

Hunk jabs an elbow under his ribs like the great friend he is, whispering, “Are you okay, man? You seem not okay.”

“I am the definition of okay, Hunk.”

Princess Allura is beaming.“This is just wonderful! Everything is working out splendidly!”

Lance does everything he can to not look at him, at Kuro. But, like magnets, Lance’s eyes always find their way to their target, who’s standing casually, arms crossed, as though one of the best things isn’t happening at this very moment. Lance can tell this is a facade, much like his own. Kuro is obviously relaxed, happy even, his arms loose around him, his face not as strained.

He knows all about Kuro’s inner struggle. The man, a clone of their leader, Shiro, has always felt second rate, a cheap copy; he’s had a hard time figuring who he is, if anyone, since realizing that he was not, in fact, Shirogane Takashi. He has most of the memories of Shiro, but none of the experience, nor the same glowing personality.

See, Kuro isn’t driven by the same things as Shiro is. He may be the same genetically, but Lance firmly believes in nurture over nature, in this case: Kuro remembers Shiro’s life, but that’s not the same as living it. Kuro’s first real memory that was of his captors, with no idea what was going on, or why he was there. Then, he was thrust into the role of leader, with little clue that he wasn’t who people thought he was. Lance doesn’t condone the subsequent meltdown and almost-there-but-not-quite betrayal, but he understands it.

Kuro’s relationship with the team was shaky after that, but Lance, and surprisingly, Keith, argued for a second chance. Keith, hands clenched, has looked conflicted as he said, “He’s still family, he’s still part of Shiro.” The crack of emotion is what made the others pause. That one imperfection caused by emotion saved a life, paused an execution. Lance had made sure to not tease Keith for a while after that.

And, despite knowing better, Lance has managed to develop a little, teensy crush through no fault of his own. It isn’t his fault that Kuro is his type! Lance has a thing for people way out of his league, who are beautiful and smart and funny (who would have thought Kuro, clone of Shiro, would be such a goof) and just…unhh, brave, a little self entitled, sweet, the whole nine yards. All of those combined has the romantic in Lance quaking.

At first, Lance thought that he might be getting his emotions mixed up. He’s always had a small crush on Shiro, had been hero worshipping him for so long that it’d since become muscle memory. But Lance realized that getting his emotions mixed up wasn’t like him, at all, since his problem is usually being too aware of them. And he’s way too well aware of his emotions for a certain clone.

Which brings them back to the issue/non-issue: Kuro has been allowed access to the Blade of Marmora. With the war, their numbers have been dwindling, and Kuro was technically Galran, having been created by Galran power. Not to mention, he resonated with one of their blades. So, he’ll be leaving the Castleship in his rearview mirror, so to speak.

Lance might be the only one to be sorry to see him gone.

The others don’t mistreat him, they just don’t exactly treat him like a real person. Once they got Shiro back, for real this time, he even treated Kuro like a misbehaving sibling; but with all siblings, there is a certain tension at times.

“This is just, just, dandy! Everything, you know, working out. For everyone. For everyone, it’s working out.”

Kuro gives him a strange look, shaking his head subtly. Lance looks behind him, waiting to see a disapproving Coran, or something. When he turns around, Kuro is facepalming. Lance’s face heats up. He can’t speak clone!

Hunk seems to know what’s going on. “I’ll…just go,” he says, leaving Lance standing there, wondering what the cheese is happening.

The others file out, leaving behind a confused Lance and a determined Kuro. Lance isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with his arms, or his tongue, which is weird, because he should really not be thinking about that in the present moment. Kuro, not being a man of patience, gestures for Lance to come closer. He huffs, and complies.

The entire time, Lance reminds himself to act supportive, to not let Kuro know that he doesn’t want to see him go. It really is the best thing for him; Kuro has been pretty down because he thinks, now that Shiro is back, he has no place, and Lance knows that feeling all too well. He wasn’t going to jeopardize Kuro’s future and self worth just because Lance happens to harbor romantic inclinations. Romantic inclinations that aren’t reciprocated, nor acknowledged. He’s going to be the bigger man for once.

“Hey,” Lance says as he bumps shoulders with Kuro. Or, well, bumps his shoulder on Kuro’s arm. “What’s the matter? I should probably be planning your going away party, right now.”

Kuro smiles, a soft and wistful one, that speaks of decisions tinged with a touch of regret. He’s probably thinking of how much he’ll miss the team, of how much his life will be changing.

“I wanted to speak with you, before…” Kuro sighs. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Lance nods, biting back the invasive questions he really wants to ask. The atmosphere shifts, gone with the lighthearted celebration of the other Paladins and members of Team Voltron. Even Kolivan’s solemn demeanor did little to dampen the zing of excitement. Now, though, a stillness settles around them, a coating of silence and awkward movements, the attention between them undivided. Despite the need to fidget, Lance basks in the feel of it, because he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll have with Kuro.

He breaks the silence, since Kuro has been quiet, even after being the one to initiate the conversation in the first place. “So, will we be able to talk while you’re gone? Does the Blade of Marmora have a landline?”

“I’m going,” Kuro blurts. “I’m going, but I can’t help think…”

“Think. . ?” Lance asks.

Kuro looks down, his eyes meeting Lance’s. Instead of finding excitement in them, he finds the reluctance that must be reflected within his own. Kuro reaches and grips Lance’s hand in a gentle hold that he can easily break.

“I’m going. But, I think I’d rather be here.”

Lance’s eyes widen, brows lowered in confusion. “But I thought you’d feel more comfortable with the Blade of Marmora…?”

“You misunderstand,” Kuro replies softly, face suspiciously red. “I’d rather be here with you.”

“What?!”

“But I can’t be selfish. I need to make my existence worth the destruction I’ve caused,” Kuro finishes, as though Lance’s jaw hasn’t fallen to the floor in surprise.

“But, you- I, what?!”

As much he doesn’t want to, Lance searches for Keith next. He knows Shiro the best, being friends the longest, and the guy is naturally suspicious, so if Lance managed to notice something strange, he has to have as well.

He, of course, finds him training. Thankfully he’s alone, Shiro nowhere to be seen.

Keith notices him immediately, but he doesn’t stop his training sequence. Lance stands on the sidelines for what seems like forever. Tapping his foot passive aggressively makes no difference, nor does his repeated sighs, so he just steps into the sequence, weaponless. The bot pauses, turning to Lance slowly like something out of a horror movie, and then darts for him; Lance does nothing, feet rooted to the spot, and before it can reach him, Keith yells, “End sequence!”

The bot collapses in between them with a muffled thud that echos hollowly. Lance stares at it to have something to look at, the heat from Keith’s glare almost being too much.

“What is your problem?!” Keith asks, arms thrown up in the air. He steps over the bot with a deliberate stride, giving Lance the shivers, and not the excited kind. No, one created by the puff of danger’s breath on his neck, warning him that things could get pretty bloody if he’s not careful. Of course, Lance is close enough to Keith by now to know that Keith would never intentionally hurt him or any of the others. Give a few extra bruises in sparring training, to prove a smug point, yes, but nothing malicious nor excessive.

Which is something Lance needs to remind himself of as he asks about Shiro. Like a hair trigger, Keith grits his teeth, plants his feet firmly on the ground and glares at Lance like he’s a particularly sharp shard of sand in his musty boots. “What are you implying?” Keith asks, blunt as usual.

Lance sighs. “That we need to be concerned about Shiro. He’s been acting strange. And, well, you’re his super special friend, so I figured…”

Keith is confused, head tilted to the side, “Sure, me and Shiro are friends…?”

“Okay, buddy, I’ll leave alone to brood and destroy. See ya later.”

Lance catches a last glimpse of Keith before he exits the training deck; it can only be described as inscrutable, as though Keith is confronted by something he recognizes but doesn’t know. And, this is honestly the biggest clue that he is on the right track as he’s ever had. Keith knows Shiro the best, having a mysterious past that has never been spoken of but has only been heavily implied. Keith knows that Shiro is different, but he still hasn’t put all the puzzle pieces together to form a true blue picture. No, he doesn’t have all the pieces, but he sure just gave Lance a few.

He visualizes them clicking in place, a picture in the throes of deciding what it wants to be.

–

Lance can’t sleep again. He wonders if Allura or Coran could give him any space sleeping pills. Nothing heavy, just enough to knock him out. He knows that if they did that they wouldn’t give it to him unless necessary, because, hello, Paladin on call. Well, now that Shiro is back, he’s not so sure.

Anyway, he can’t sleep, and he can’t stop the jumble of thoughts and memories rushing through the threshold of his mind, pumbling and falling through the doorway like in the cartoons. He feels the persistent rumbling of Red in his mind, causing him to relax just a little at the thought of having a place. His legs make the way to her without even noticing, entering the hangar in the haze of sleeplessness.

On his way, he almost trips over a very large body belonging to Shiro. Lance curses enough to make Coran cry and swoon in despair.

“Woah there, are you okay?!” Lance asks as Shiro jerks violently out of slumber. The guilt of waking someone else up while he’s unable to rest is real. Lance might as well just gone and kicked a space puppy.

Shiro groans, eyes fluttering open in a way that can only be described as Disney Prince-ly. The dude has eyelashes for days. Shiro’s eyes are blurry and unfocused, and in that moment, almost…childlike. Reminiscent. Like someone wishing for the comfort of their childhood bed, where a blanket is enough to drive off the monsters.

(Lance should really understand that he’s not the only one homesick, and he should quit feeling sorry for himself. But he’s never been regarded as mature.)

“Lance?”

Lance jolts, his mind sliding back into gear. Sleep is for the weak and those with naturally great skin. “Yes? You okay, Shiro? You should really try to sleep in a bed, I heard it can do a lot for the back, the muscles, the joints, you get the idea. Though, really, I can’t really talking when I am in the middle of my midnight stroll…if it is actually midnight. I don’t know anymore.”

Shiro’s eyes are glassy for an entire different reason when Lance looks at him again; Lance’s ramblings can rival that of Pidge’s. Lance relaxes, just a little, at the sign that maybe Shiro was brought out of whatever funk he was in.

“No, no, I should apologize. It’s my fault for sleeping in such a strange place. Maybe we both should go to our rooms, because we always need to be ready.” And, there, there he is. The Shiro they all know and love, as work obsessed as he is.

Lance narrows his eyes. Shiro, if you look closely, looks jittery and unbalanced in body and mind. Was he really asleep, or had Lance caught him mid-flashback?! Has Lance hyped everything up when what is really going on is PTSD? How much of a cheesing jerk would he be?!

Shiro walks him to his room for some reason. Just as he was about to go in, jump in bed and scream out his stupidity into a pillow, a hand is clasped on his shoulder. A Galran one.

“Let’s…not tell any of the others about this, okay?”

That’s not shady, at all. “Sure, sure, wouldn’t want anyone else to get suspicious,” he replies. Shiro, or whoever he is, stiffens, eyes widening in shock. He rips his hand off Lance like he suddenly caught fire, and stepped back a few paces. He nods at Lance before turning on his heel and walking away in a deliberately even pace.

Lance hurries into his room and sits on his bed, numb. His mind is whirling at a thousand miles per hour as his body begs for rest.