Lance: the boyfriend who gets stuck in his binder and needs help taking it off

Trans Klance fic.

Tw: dysphoria, fear of rejection, Lance deadnames himself because he feels comfortable to do so.

It had been in his head for a while now- ever since it happened. Keith wasn't the type to get anxious, so the ball in the pit of his stomach was unfamiliar to him. He was pacing around, going for jogs around the castle, punching a punchbag, anything he could to satisfy his fight or flight response long enough to manage to put down some food without nausea rearing its ugly head. The words kept repeating over and over in his head- however benign they may have been, they still filled him with panic. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

It wasn't aimed at him- it was aimed at Pidge. But the idea that she'd kept her agab disclosed and had explicitly been using he/him pronouns, and still was seen as a girl, made Keith feel like everything was futile. The years of confusion and self discovery and finally gaining the confidence to start identifying as he truly felt- they all felt unravelled with that single sentence. It didn't matter who he was or what he did or how he felt. She, she, she. It was like a mantra in Keith's head, a constant intrusive misgendering. 

Keith felt sick and trapped. He felt like everybody was waiting for him to reveal he was a girl- that no matter what, that's how they would always see him, like it would have been easier to give up on himself. He didn't want to give up his identity. He was trapped in space and trapped in an awkward void of identity versus perceived identity.

He avoided everyone for the next few days. He couldn't bare it. Couldn't bare knowing everyone saw him as strikingly female. That no matter how much he would bind, no matter how many times he'd stabbed himself with a needle, no matter how much he let some stubble grow or how deep his voice was, all people would see him as was a walking womb- because that's exactly how the world saw women. He was a feminist- of course he was. He wasn't transitioning because he thought ill of womanhood- he was doing it because womanhood simply wasn't his to grow into and he loved himself enough to be honest about his identity. 

He knew that people found that hard to understand. He knew people found it hard to accept. He knew that everyone saw him differently, that everyone was waiting to bombard him with personal questions about what's in his pants, if he's had "the surgery" (which one? There's loads), how people like him have sex or kids. Everyone was always waiting like vultures to cross his boundaries and ask him questions and chastise him for "mutilating" his body and "ruining" his beauty and his chances at love. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Keith couldn't get the words out of his head. 

And they weren't even aimed at him.

Pathetic. He thought of himself as pathetic. Lying in his bed with his face pressed into his pillow fighting back tears. This wasn't just pain. This was existential pain. This was his entire identity and he felt like his world was crumbling away. He knew who he was, and he was screaming out, but it wasn't right, his body wasn't right, the way people saw him wasn't right, because it didn't match. It didn't feel like his. Objectively he knew his body was great. It would be amazing on someone else. Except it wasn't on someone else. It was on him and his skin was crawling and writhing with the ghosts of expectations and the tendrils of dysphoria and incongruence that gripped him tightly and made a home under his skin. 

He read the Map Woman. Sure, the poem was about a woman, about her origins staying with her, but he could relate. He could relate to feeling like your past was branding you, he could relate to the urge to cover and shed it, but he also knew that it shaped him, painted him- his past was a part of him that he couldn't erase and it was important that he make peace with who he was and where he comes from in order for his skin to settle. He knew that his journey was important, and it was home- his past and his future didn't need to be at odds. They weren't two parallel lives- they were a map of who he was, the experiences that shaped him and his identity- his past and his present would shape his future, where new valleys and roads would embed themselves onto him. His past would remain deep within his bones so that his future could thrive beneath his skin. The old gives way to the new. Identity was a tower. You couldn't take away the deep roots of your past without the top collapsing down. His past, his pain, his journey- was important to him. Even if painful, it was significant because of that pain. He couldn't erase where he came from, when it led him to where he was now. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Yes.

It was as simple as yes.

Yes, they were supposed to think he was a boy, because he was a boy, and only he got to decide his gender. They didn't get to force him into a box that wasn't his to sit in. 

He was allowed to put his foot down. He was allowed to set boundaries. Of course, he understood that people were allowed to be curious and confused, but he was still allowed to define his own identity and have it respected. He was allowed to fight for himself.

It was scary. 

Gods, it was so scary. But Keith knew that if he wanted to control his identity, he had to face the source of his insecurity. He had to leave his room.

He found himself on the training deck first- fight or flight, to quell the anxiety. He knew he'd be alone, so he could train safely without his binder trying to suffocate him for his stupidity. He managed to get in a good hour or so of training, before letting his feet carry him to the one place he knew everyone would be- at lunch.

He knew that lunch was the best time to rejoin the group. Hunk would immediately greet him with a "welcome back, buddy," and an extra large helping of food goo, and he could focus on eating and keep his head down and over the next few meals Hunk would gently coax him out of his shell and encourage others to engage too until it was no longer awkward. Hunk was good at understanding Keith's anxiety. 

So Keith did his best to work through the deep churning feeling, the unsettling writhing in his gut when the tendrils of anxiety gripped him tight and settled there. He walked in, and avoided eye contact, and sat down at the table. But Hunk didn't welcome him back in a casual tone.

"Keith?"

"Hunk."

Hunk gently set his food in front of him. "I saved you the best bits," he said, but he lingered.

"What?"

"Keith, buddy, we're all worried about you."

"I'm fine," Keith said, but he immediately regretted it. No, he was not fine, and he was screaming out for help inside, trapped behind the prison of his fear. 

"Keith, we both know that was a lie here. This isn't you."

"Isolating myself isn't me?"

"Well I mean- fair point. But we all know something's wrong, Keith. And it's okay if you aren't ready to trust us with what yet, but if there's anything that we can do to help or support you through this, we want to know. We're here for you."

The words swirled around in his mind again. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

He couldn't push them away.

"I need you to-... remind me who I am, again," Keith forced out quickly, "I need you to tell me how you see me. I just… I need to know."

"Keith," Hunk began firmly, "what's going on?"

"Nothing, I just-" Keith sighed awkwardly. He wanted to say, he needed to. But his fear stopped him. He sat there, tense, trying to keep his breathing steady and trying to push down the lump in his throat. Keith didn't cry. Not like this. Not for himself. Never for himself. Especially- especially not in front of a crowd.

"Keith, buddy?" Lance was looking at him in a way Keith couldn't recognise- at least, not on Lance's face. Lance looked like he hadn't slept out of concern. Keith had never seen him like this before. He felt guilty for causing it.

"It's just- it's hard," Keith managed. Of course, Lance's face lit up with mischief- he'd always try to lighten the mood.

"It's hard, huh, am I that attractive that my mere presence-"

"I'M NOT SOME GIRL YOU CAN FLIRT WITH, LANCE!"

Keith regretted snapping almost immediately. Lance was shocked, scared even, and Keith hadn't even realised he'd stood up and balled his fists. Lance finally began to stammer out an apology. "I- I'm sorry, I- I won't-"

"Look, I get that you might not wanna be flirted with," Pidge began firmly, "but maybe you could have worded that better."

"I'm not a girl, I'm not like you," Keith practically growled out. He realised too late why Pidge seemed angry- it wasn't because they thought he was a girl. It was because they didn't know. They didn't know he was trans. And Lance was flirting with him anyways. And it sounded like Keith was implying that Lance should only flirt with girls.

"If you don't wanna be flirted with, that's fine, we understand, but if you have a problem with Lance liking guys then get out of my sight!"

"Pidge, that isn't what I-"

The words haunted him yet again. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

But this time Keith felt ready to confront them. 

"Pidge, I'm not-"

"Not what?!"

"I'm not homophobic. I- I reacted the way I did because-"

"Because why?"

"Because I didn't realise Lance was gay. So I thought he was flirting with me because he saw me as a girl."

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Pidge countered. 

The fear gripped Keith again. He was afraid of hearing those words again. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

But he needed to scream out his truth.

"I'm trans." Keith was met with silence. "That's what I meant by I'm not like you. And that's what I meant when I snapped at Lance. Because I thought he saw me as a girl. And- that's why I've been hiding in my room, since… since you revealed your agab. Because- because Coran said- 'We were supposed to think you were a boy?'. Like- you- you hadn't given us your deadname, Pidge, you hadn't- you hadn't stopped using he/him pronouns. You were outwardly identifying as fully male. And yes, you aren't, and it really was just a disguise for you, so it probably didn't hurt you to be told you weren't very convincing as a boy."

Keith glanced around the room. They were silent, but it seemed to be because they were genuinely listening. 

"But it hurt me," Keith continued, "because it felt like those words applied to me too. That- everyone somehow knew, and that everyone was secretly seeing me as female. That people felt like I was just faking it. That in everyone's heads was 'oh that weird girl still thinks we see her as a boy'. That everyone could see right through me. That everyone saw me as a ruse, and an unconvincing one at that. And I'm not. I'm not- I'm not like you, Pidge. I'm not pretending to be a guy to sneak into school. It doesn't fill me with relief to hear people knew how I was born like it did with you. I'm trans. And I'm scared. I'm scared because my agab follows me around and I feel like I can't escape it. I felt like you all saw me as a girl, like you were all waiting for me to come clean. And I couldn't stand it anymore, so… yeah."

He looked around the room again.

"You were supposed to think I was a boy."

Keith finally took a deep breath, attempting to relax his body, but it immediately clenched up again. He felt so stupid. He must have been passing excellently and now he'd just outed himself and now they really would think he was a girl. He took a shaky breath, fighting the tears. He didn't want to cry, not like this. He froze up when Lance stood too.

"Keith, buddy…"

Keith forced out a breath that was threatening to spill tears, but the breath came out all too fast and all too shaky. 

"I'm sorry I made you so uncomfortable with my flirting. I guess I- I never felt a need to come out. I mean I know you've seen me flirting with Allura and Nyma and… a lot of alien chicks, but I'm actually bi. I didn't realise that you didn't know I was flirting with you because I'm actually bi and into dudes too. I didn't know that you thought I only liked girls and that you'd think I saw you as a girl, otherwise I would have clarified. I've just always been open about it, you know? I haven't exactly tried to hide it, I just genuinely thought that everybody already knew. And I know that it isn't my fault, before you say that, I know you don't blame me and I know I'm not at fault. I'm just apologising for the way you got hurt."

"Why would you even flirt with me," Keith asked brokenly, "why now?"

"I've kinda been flirting with you since the garrison, Keith," Lance began awkwardly. Keith heard a crunch- Pidge had fucking popcorn for this. 

"I didn't know you at the garrison-"

"Taylor."

"What?"

"You remember Taylor, right?"

"I mean yeah, she was always behind me in class with some stupid rivalr- ooohhhh."

"I started transitioning just after you left. So everyone here already knows I'm trans and knows my deadname. I assumed you did too. When I met you again I kinda assumed you'd recognise me so I brought up our rivalry and my name in the hope you'd like. Not call me my deadname not realising I was a guy. Then you didn't recognise me so a part of me was really glad but the other part was kinda disappointed. So yeah… I'm also trans and I may have a teensy crush on you."

"You have a what now?"

"I mean I'm kinda relieved you're trans too because like I was scared that- well I'm sure you understand the fear of dating as a trans person with the whole people seeing you as your agab thing or the very very tiny possibility of someone being attracted to you-"

"Lance."

"What?"

"You said you have a crush on me."

"I very suddenly have training to do-"

Keith grabbed Lance's arm before he could leave, and Lance flamed bright red. Keith wasn't one to confront his feelings, at all, but he was upfront and he wanted answers. "Lance."

"Okay, fine, yes, I happen to think you're very attractive and somehow I like your dumb personality too! I've been trying to flirt with you but you're oblivious and I'm scared and I know you're Keith and you don't feel things other than 'Keith smash face with sword' so I know you don't feel the same about a nobody like me-"

"Shut up, Lance!" Lance immediately shut up. "I don't mean like- don't talk about your feelings. I do want to listen to you and address these insecurities. But I need you to be quiet and I need you to push those aside for a moment because I need you to be direct with me here. When you say you have a crush on me, do you mean from a distance, or do you mean you'd pursue a relationship with me if you thought you had a chance?"

"My answer depends on if- on a scale of one to ten; one being a stab in the face and ten being decapitating me and slicing me into cat food sized chunks, how violently will you stab me if I say yes to the second one?"

"Lance…" Keith sighed, and lowered his hand on Lance's arm until he was holding his hand gently. He didn't know what to say- but Keith was impulsive and brash, so he didn't- he grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him as hard as he could. He would have regretted it if he didn't know Lance felt the same way. When he pulled back, Lance was puce across his cheekbones and to the tips of his ears. Keith only registered where he was when he heard the crunch of popcorn from Pidge. And then Keith turned scarlet. 

He was suddenly very aware of his surroundings and the audience, and very aware of the fact he'd just kissed Lance. "Gross," Keith protested, "do it again."

"Kiss me yourself you lazy quiznack," Lance protested. 

"Well I'm not kissing you again until you kiss me first!"

"Fine! Well I'm not kissing you until you kiss me, whoever caves first owes the other a week of laundry and I haven't done my laundry since we first arrived here!"

"That's gross, Lance," Keith said, "and you're on. I haven't done my laundry in a month." 

"Oh quiznack, you guys are gonna be so annoying," Pidge sighed. 

"Can we eat now that's all sorted," Hunk asked awkwardly, "because the sooner we eat the sooner I can bake like- a huge cake to celebrate you guys-"

"Hunk, no," Pidge sighed. 

"Hunk yes, because love is beautiful and love deserves good food to commemorate it- hey where'd Lance and Keith go?" That was the last thing Keith heard from the kitchen as he pulled Lance towards the training deck.

The words repeated one more time in his head.

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Lance nodded and turned his head this way and that to show off his long neck and the paint job. He’d perfected it over the weekends. Keith watched and used his hand to grip Lance's chin and push it upwards, Lance swallowed and felt eyes scorching him. Jesus...something about this guy made him feel like he was being appraised for a sale…

And then there was a hand lightly wrapping around his neck and his knees gave out.

Keith caught him easily and that wasn’t helping with the matter at hand. He took Lance’s reaction as an obvious cue and continued to stroke his pulse with his thumb while he pressed his fingers into the soft muscle of Lance’s neck.

“You’re real pretty…” he felt it kissed to his ear and he whined.

Brave...or stupid?

Paint the Walls, Feel the Bass, Crave the Taste

In Which, Lance likes to drown his sorrows in a sea of half-naked, definitely not sober, handsy people who he chances his health with every time he gets free. 

By Chance, he meets Keith.

Keith, he’s the one who’s going to break the boy’s back...

[banging my hands on the table] where’s my transgirl klance