#texan!keith

Lance, being Voltron's sharp shooter, knows guns. Like- by the sound of the fire he can tell that the gun is a 22 millimeter automatic pistol from 300 yards East.

Keith: *leaves Voltron to join the Blade of Marmora*

Title: from the flames

Pairing: Keith/Lance

Rating: T (Mild Depictions of Violence)

Lance sputtered out the ashes coating his tongue.

Smoke swirled in the air and he choked on the pervading grey, the lifeless waste that the Galras left behind marking the terrain as conquered. Voltron had been separated, Keith and him sent on this wild goose chase for a red herring that (literally) blasted in their faces, forcing them to evacuate everyone within this doomed vicinity. Fires raged unchecked behind them, and he could see Keith breathing hard.

His anger shone through and Lance held back the urge to check him and tell him that the Galra escaping was all his fault. Keith was the one who had been blindsided, who suggested that they swarm a ship that turned out to be a decoy that nearly blasted halfway across the mountains had it not been for Blue and Red keeping them out of the explosion’s way. Come pinga.

The Galra were probably laughing, calling them names and raising their fluffy ears in joy. Lance boiled.

“Great going, Keith. We should’ve followed my suggestion to join the rest but nooo you had to play the hero.”

“I wasn’t,” Keith bristled. “I wanted to see what that ship was doing here.”

“Next time, maybe you could take my plans into account,” the Blue Paladin remarked dryly, brushing off the last of the ashes from his shoulder.

Keith had no reply. Lance had stunned him.

He wanted to walk back into Blue when a loud crash made him stop. Keith looked up and they were instantly surrounded with droids, the Galra apparently not having their fill of blood lust. Lance couldn’t think or formulate a reason; his instinct to fight was already up.

“Lance! Watch out!” Keith activated his bayard and slashed through the closest soldier, a loud grunt echoing as he fell. He had been a breath away from turning Lance into Lance-noodles.

“I got your back!” Lance yelled, shooting off at the mass of purple coming their way, Keith’s back flush with his.

“Where did they come from?” he asked, and Lance had no answer, holding his ground as the force from his bayard sent him sliding a few inches into the dead soil.

“No clue – Mierda!”

Lance ducked in time as a sword sliced through his concentration. Keith viciously stabbed the soldier and radioed in the rest of the team.

“Guys, we have a problem!”

Shiro’s voice cackled through the comm. “We have one at our hands, too.”

“The Galra decided that attacking Primera’s core was the smartest and we have a melting planet on our hands,” Pidge added.

“Joy!” Lance gritted out. “We’re fighting a whole group of em’.”

“Hang in there!”

“Lance!” Keith’s voice rose through the din of his shots.

“What?”

“Stay sturdy.”

Lance barely had time to process that when Keith was running towards him, losing his gravitational tract with the ground, swinging with a finesse he had never seen him possess. He pushed himself off Lance, his sword slashing a row of soldiers.

Keith twisted and landed in a crouching position as the soldiers dissipated in front of his eyes, crumpling to the ground.

“Dios Mio.”

Lance picked his jaw up from the floor, deciding that Keith wasn’t going to be the one who would defeat this army and claim all the glory. He fired, swung, punched and parried; Galra blood and his own dripping from his knuckles. He was locked in a fight with a skilled one, the soldier’s blows leaving him gasping and trying to keep up.

The cabrón was fast. Lance nearly tripped on a fissure in the ground and he swung his head back before it could collide with the humming metal. He back flipped, taking a deep breath as he fired a close shot at the Galra’s chest plate. A grunt rewarded from the injured alien. Lance dealt the final shot to its head, watching with nonchalance as the soldier crumpled at his feet.

Keith was winded next to him, the final Galra falling to his knees.

They sagged against each other, nearly melting to the ground as the rush of adrenaline trickled away.

“What in tarnation was that?” Keith said, and Lance had to laugh at his accent slipping through.

“Something funny?” Keith challenged, grey-blue eyes narrowing.

Lance’s chuckle was throaty. “Nothing, Mullethead.”

“What did you call me?”

“I meant ‘my love’… head,” he said and swore that Keith stopped in his tracks.

“What?” he asked, turning around and giving him a confused look. Lance’s own hesitance was echoed on the Red Paladin’s face. “Keith, buddy, I’m kidding. Come on, let’s get back to the others.”

Keith actually cracked a smile and Lance found himself laughing at the sight. For a moment, they weren’t Keith Kogane or Lance McClain, sworn rivals, neck in neck. They were two friends who survived an explosion and an army all within five minutes.

Orange hues and smoke played with Lance’s perception and there was a look in Keith’s eyes that inexplicably made him wrap an arm around his teammate’s shoulders. Keith didn’t stiffen or throw his embrace away; Lance nearly yelped in shock when he reciprocated, his face suddenly stuffed into Keith’s dark locks, inhaling the metallic scent of his skin.

His heartbeat quickened and when he looked into Keith’s eyes, the dead soldiers and raging fires ceased to exist. Oceans opened beneath his feet and his head felt light, fingers curling into the other man’s jacket with a grip that should be illegal. Keith didn’t notice it, his gaze stuck on Lance. He wanted to ask Keith what was going on, why was he staring at him like that, and why the hell wasn’t he backing away when Keith’s eyes grew closer.

Lance’s vision was swarmed with Keith Kogane, and for the first time, he noticed a light smattering of freckles on the other boy’s nose, the violet flecks in his eyes, an almost imperceptible birth mark on his left cheek—

Soft lips pressed on his own and Lance swallowed back a surprised mewl. Keith’s grip on his shoulders tugged him closer and Lance allowed his eyes to slip close, giving Keith permission to slant his mouth as he deepened the kiss. His palm nestled under Keith’s head and his lips had a mind of their own, pressing and memorizing, vocal chords stolen and mute, the only sounds existing were the gentle sighs Keith breathed when they separated and reconnected, a never-ending cycle. Lance didn’t want it to end.

Keith pulled back far sooner than he liked, and Lance loosened his grip on his dark locks, drifting that same hand to touch his mouth.

“Uh…”

“Don’t say anything,” Keith whispered. Keith never whispered unless it was to insult him without catching Shiro’s attention.

“…uh.”

“I’ve been meaning to do that,” Keith said, and the adorable blush that spread down his neck was far too much for Lance.

Dios Mio, was he really feeling stuff – for Keith?!

Lance shook his head, warding off the thoughts and attempting to fire a round of sarcastic teasing when he found that he just couldn’t.

Keith was staring at him like he was the moon, blinking slow, pupils dilated and looking so goddamn happy that Lance didn’t have the heart to tell him off. He realized that he had never seen his friend look this pleased, not even when he won a spar match against Lance or received praise from Shiro.

It made Lance feel weirdly flattered.

“Let’s go,” Keith said, still in soft tones. “We wouldn’t want the others to get worried.”

“Hang on, hotshot.”

Keith had barely turned around when Lance’s mouth was pressed on his, knocking the breath out of his stuttering lungs. It ended even before he finished blinking and Keith remained stunned, Lance smirking at the other man’s silence.

“You’re not the only one that can stun a person, amigo.”

They would pretend their kiss never existed, meet the other Paladins after their own mission and spend hours next to each other, ignoring the humming buzz that coaxed deeper emotions; unresolved tension was their connection.

It wasn’t until they found themselves alone, cleaning up after a failed food fight in the kitchen while Hunk and Pidge were finding spare rags that Keith confronted him. Lance agreed that it was useless to try and hide the truth and the next thing he knew, Keith was pressed against him, backing him into the counter and Lance welcomed it; welcomed his kisses with light-headed glee.

Hunk whooped and their moment faltered. Pidge merely said, “finally!”

Keith: Beyoncé is from Texas.