Okay, yes, he’s being a little dramatic. But in his defense, he really hasn’t ever known peace — you try living with nine older sisters on a farm. That shit is hard. Lance didn’t experience silence until he was four years old, only a delicate child, and at the time it frightened him. He’s been surrounded by noise and chaos (and more noise, somehow) since his inception, basically.

So you can understand why the castle is kind of a nightmare for him.

Growing up, whenever he was annoyed by his family (which was frequently), he would stomp off the the barn and yell about how when he was grown, he was going to move out to a private beach house and never hear another soul again. He’d bitch and moan to the cattle about how he couldn’t wait to grow up and finally sleep in a room all his own, with no annoying sisters or nosy roommates or anything, really. He’d mutter about it every time Hunk read his journal, fume about it every time his sisters banged on the bathroom door and yelled at him to hurry up. He swore up and down to everyone that would listen that when he finally found peace there would not be a goddamn thing in the world and beyond that would stop him from protecting it.

Well, then he got his peace, in the form of a castle that doubled as a graveyard. His own room, for once in his life, and not a single person to bother him unless it was life threatening, basically.

And oh, how Lance hated it.

He tossed and turned like no one’s business on the first days, but brushed it off as getting used to a new space. And as he kept tossing and turning, night after night, getting maybe three hours of scattered sleep of he was lucky, he continued to blame it on a myriad of things: fear of a freaky haunted castle, weirdly stiff Altean beds, freezing cold castle temperatures, nightmares. All true things, of course, but eventually Lance had to concede — the castle was too goddamn quiet.

Tough pill to swallow, that one.

He’d tried to handle it himself. Stole Pidge’s headphones, hummed out loud to himself; hell, he even left the bathroom sink running for some white noise. None of it worked. None of it was the same as the constant sound of someone breathing right next to you, the grumbles of their snores and strange mutterings of their sleep-talk. The very thing Lance hated with a passion turned out to be the one thing that actually helped his insomniac ass actually sleep. Mother nature, you trick-ass bitch. You have a personal problem.

Now, of course there was an easy solution to this. He shared the castle with six other people — one of them his Garrison roommate! Surely, he could bunk with someone else.

But… no one else seemed to have trouble sleeping. At least, not for the same reason as Lance. And as much as Lance liked to play the obnoxious role, as much as nothing was funnier than pushing just the right buttons to make someone else explode… he couldn’t be that much of a nuisance. It was too much.

So Lance got real used to being sleep deprived.

Of course, he wasn’t stupid about it. He never went more than three days without sleep. On particularly rough nights, he’d crash Hunk or Pidge’s rooms raving about a sleepover, or convince the rest of the team that they should have a movie night, and then just happen to fall asleep right there on the couch. By circumstance, he and Shiro ended up helping each other out pretty often, too — the black paladin was kept up by nightmares about as often as Lance was by plain old insomnia. The man was usually too proud to accept Lance’s help, but every once in a while he allowed it, and they both slept soundly, for once.

Keith, though?

His help was a surprise.

Keith, as it turns out, has as much pent-up energy as the goddamn Energizer Bunny on steroids. On days they don’t have missions that will pump them full of so much adrenaline their hearts are at risk, he trains himself to exhaustion, else he’ll be up all night.

Training with him doesn’t do anything for Lance’s insomnia. It does, however, do wonders for their relationship.

Without Lance’s permission, angry, after-hour fights evolve into playfully competitive spars. Those spars evolve into genuine lessons, both of them teaching each other things neither ever considered learning before. (Turns out Lance’s flexibility comes in handy in swordfights, and Keith’s reflexes lead to excellent pistol work. Who knew?) And then, week by week, month by month, those late nights turn into a tension so thick that neither of them can bear it.

It may have been Keith to make the first move, but Lance thinks he deserves some credit. They wouldn’t be here without his complete inability to sleep like a normal person, after all.

The great thing about dating someone, though, is that eventually, bed-sharing comes into the mix. Eventually both parties start looking for excuses to stay in each other’s space just a little bit longer.

Lord above, is it ever a relief.

No longer does Lance need to desperately look for an excuse after seventy-two straight hours of prying his eyes open. Now he justs follows Keith to his room when the night cycle starts, wrapping around him like an octopus and stealing his warmth like a leech. Keith is the worst, most annoying sleeper in the world — he snores, he tosses and turns, and regularly talks and even yells in his sleep — and Lance fucking relishes it. It is a relief of biblical proportions to finally be able to have a good night’s rest, on a regular fucking basis.

It does, though, make nights when he has to sleep in his own room that much worse.

He doesn’t even have to, technically. Like, there’s no indication that Keith ever wants him to go back. In fact, the man always pouts when Lance stops at his own door, muttering petulantly to himself as he presses a kiss to Lance’s forehead and makes his way to his own room. Honestly, Keith would probably like it if Lance moved into his room, for good.

Lance bites his lip, considering.

Still. He doesn’t want to be annoying.

But there’s no way to know unless he goes for it, right?

“Hey, babe,” Lance tries, testing the waters. They’re both in the bathroom, getting ready for bed; Keith braiding his hair as Lance applies a myriad of skin products to his face. “Do you think you could make some room in your dresser for my socks? And, like, other clothes?”

Is it a coward’s way to voice what he’s really asking? Yeah. But Lance is nervous, okay? Cut him some slack. If this backfires then he’s back to sleeping twice a fuckin’ week.

Keith stills. He abandons his hair, turning slowly to face Lance. Lance looks away, fiddling with the hem of his pajama shirt.

“Lance,” Keith says, placing both hands on his shoulders. He’s quiet until Lance finally looks up at him.

“Yeah?”

Keith’s face is mission-level serious; eyebrows drawn together over dark indigo eyes, mouth set in a firm line.

“I would reach my hands into a live fire and swallow hot coals for you if you asked me to. Do you understand that?”

There’s a beat of silence. Keith’s expression remains unmoving, dead-serious, entirely unfazed by what he just said.

Lance bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking under Keith’s heavy hands, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Keith’s collarbones.

God. This is Keith. Why was he nervous, again?

“I just need a couple drawers, doofus. No need for theatrics.”

Keith presses a kiss to his hair. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Yes, by the way. I cleared out half my shit weeks ago. I’ve been waiting for you to finally move all the way in.”

Lance smiles, hidden against Keith’s shirt.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He never has to worry about sleep again.

———

Lance is ADHD and hypersensitive

When he cant sleep because he's having a hyperactive attack he borrows Pidge's headphones just so they block out some noise and he wears the eyecover thingy to block out all and any light.

Pidge is an insomniac and often is awake when Lance cant sleep so she luls him to sleep with Earth music she found.

Sometimes the textures of foods are too much for Lance and it overwhelms him, so Hunk spent a week creating foods that are perfect for him and comforting.

Keith keeps squishy things and figit toys in his weird pouch things for Lance when he needs them, but he often is caught playing with them subconsciously when he gets anxious or restless.

Keith is a figity boi(tm)

Sometimes when lance is hypersensitive to touch he still craves his bfs touch and so he just holds onto his finger or stares at his hand to satisfy the craving.

Keith plays with Lance's hair when hes figity and hyper.

When Lance is hyper he talks really fast, but his brain cant keep up with translating everything into English, so he just starts rambling so fast in spanish.

No one u derstood.

Keith kinda did because he started learning bcuz he loves his bf

Pidge and Coran made translaters!

Coran once made the food goo I to a squishy toy on accident butbLance loves it.

Pidge makes lance toys :)

She also made this little ticking thing that helps him slow down his thought and think better.

Allura does facemasks and hair treatments with Lance to calm him down and feel clean even though he showered like 3 times already

Lance plays with Keith's hair!

It makes him focus but is also calming

Keith pretends to hate it, but it's one of the only thing that can relax him

So when he decides to bring up Shiro’s, quite frankly, embarrassing pining–'Seriously, Shiro, do yourself a favor and stop feeling sorry for yourself. He /likes/ you; go get him.‘–he sets about planning ways for them to be alone. Much to Shiro’s mild horror. But honestly Keith is so done, it’s time for action.

He conspires with Allura to set them up for joint missions, often requiring the two of them to work closely and for long periods of time. The latest mission, a recovery stint to some asteroid for a mineral Keith doesn’t actually believe exists, has proven successful: Upon their return to the Castle, both Shiro and Lance were smiling, their laughter echoing down the halls.

Keith was satisfied to note they looked relatively unscathed, if a little dirty, but most importantly, happy. He nodded to himself, and commenced with the next step.

At dinner (or breakfast/lunch/scheduled snack times), he makes sure the only available seat is right next to Lance; the chairs placed snug together so that Shiro has little chance of putting space between them. Lance doesn’t seem to mind, leaning into Shiro, sparing nothing for personal space, and softly digging his elbow into his side when he tries to draw the older man’s attention. Shiro, for all his initial, uncharacteristic shyness, doesn’t seem to mind either. In fact, he even manages to let himself go enough to crack jokes back at Lance when he sees the opportunity. (The look on Lance’s face is priceless: Eyes wide and shining with glee, mouth agape and slightly trembling. He’s dumbstruck and unable to form words, glancing frantically around the table to make sure everyone had paid attention.) Shiro is flustered but smug. Mouth stretched wide in a smile that showed all his sparkly white teeth.

It is the first of many nights where Shiro and Lance bond over shared humor. (Keith tallies another win.)

Hunk, Pidge, and Coran are eventually brought into the fold, offering their help and providing tips for the ongoing success of Operation Shance. (Read: Vacating rooms when both targets were present; causing mild mishaps that left them stuck together, often times literally; and in Pidge’s case, sly remarks of blatant innuendo.) Combined they’ve increased the odds of a confession exponentially. Everyone is proud.

When Shiro’s finally ready to confess–having endured weeks of well-meant torture–Keith makes himself scarce. The last he sees before he heads back to his room, is Shiro gently grabbing Lance by the elbow, head tilted down to whisper in his ear, and Lance’s eyes staring hopefully up at him.

He returns some hours later to find them both curled up on the couch, fast asleep and limbs tangled together.

He smiles and heads back to bed.

\

I had more towards the end there, but when I was copying it over, somehow a chunk of it went missing? Anyway, I might edit this a bit later–I’m on mobile right now, so I don’t know if there are any mistakes or whatever. Who knows, maybe I’ll remember how I originally wanted this to end ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Um, yeah, I actually, uh, wanted to tell you something,” Lance stutters. It’s clear he’s nervous, though Keith can’t imagine what would be so scary to say.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Do you want to, uh, sit?” Lance asks, turning towards his bed.

“Sure.”

Keith moves over and sits down, on Lance’s bed, next to Lance. He watches him fiddle with his fingers for a few seconds before he looks up, takes a breath, and starts talking.

“So, I know we’re not super close, but I trust you, and I feel like it’s right to tell you. I haven’t told anyone else-“ pause, “-yet. And, not that I think you’d blab to everyone, but please don’t tell this to anyone else.

Keith is nodding along, trying to convey a look of understanding and agreement, and trying his best to be approachable.

“Okay, um,” Lance resumes. “I- I was born a girl,” he says quietly. “I came out to my parents as transgender when I was 14, and I started hormone therapy when I was 15–a few months before I started at the Garrison. I haven’t had any surgeries yet. And, um, the effects of T on my body are going to start reverting soon, since I don’t have any here, so if I start looking more feminine, that’s why. Uh, sorry I dumped all this on you. It’s just- it’s been kinda lonely in space. I haven’t had anyone to talk to about this. But, yeah. I’m trans.”

“Okay.” Keith noticed, somewhere along in Lance’s speech, that he’d started shaking. He wants, more than anything, to hug Lance. To physically reassure him. But he doesn’t know if they’re there yet.

“Okay?” Lance questions, a little confused.

“Yeah. Okay. I-“ say it? Well, better time now than ever. “-I still love you. You’re still Lance. I support you, and I’ll listen to any rants you want to throw at me.