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Homesick at Space Camp

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Lance wiped sweat out of his eyes again, panting heavily as his whole body shook from over-exertion. He looked around the training area frantically, sniping one long range target then another, two melee fighters coming in to rush Pidge from the flank. Pidge was equally worn out, using all of the strength she had to keep the focus of the many close-combat targets trying to overrun their two-man team. Lance dropped one more rushing melee target with a headshot, but as soon as the gladiator hit the floor, a sniper target blasted Pidge with a shot from the far corner of the room.

Lance doubled-over, panting with his hands on his knees while Pidge lay in a heap on the floor for what felt like the thousandth time. They were in the middle of a training exercise designed to make use of tactical team comps. Lance was supposed to be covering Pidge while she engaged close range targets, but he couldn't keep up. Every time he dropped a long range target, a new gladiator would come running at her from a different direction, helping the close combat attackers break her defense. And, naturally, every time he managed to defend her from new combatants, one or both of them would end up getting sniped from a distance. Lance just couldn't seem to broaden his scope of the map, and each new failure frayed his nerves more, causing him to try to focus more intently, which only served to narrow his vision even more. The worst part was that he knew what was happening, and he just couldn't un-grit his teeth and fix it. He'd been trying to keep things light, making jokes about how “-that gladiator was smoking hot, how was I supposed to shoot her when she was tossing me those bedroom eyes? I mean, come on, rude,” but they quickly became grating even for him.

He didn't even bother commenting as Pidge groaned on the ground this time, feeling completely nonplussed.

Across the room, Shiro sighed. Lance had watched his composure crack a little more with each new failure, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit. It wasn't like he was trying to fail. He knew if this were a real battle without anyone judging him on a darn point system he'd have no problem loosening up. He was an excellent shot.

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously coming to the end of his rope. “Come on Lance, just focus. Keith and Hunk figured this out an hour ago.”

“Seriously man, your situational awareness is crap. Why aren’t you relaxing so you can take in more of the area? Do you want to get shot?” Keith complained loudly, arms gesturing wildly in frustration.

Lance stiffened like he'd just been stabbed, vision narrowing into pinpricks.

Of course. Of course Keith.

Shiro realized his mistake too late, and Lance watched his face fall with a grim satisfaction as he felt his own mouth start running on autopilot. “Oh, I'm sorry, I was just kidding that time! Let me just put on my serious pants real quick. Oh quiznak, looks like I'm already wearing them! Too bad then, guess I'll just never be as good as fucking Keith.”

And with an uncharacteristic violence that startled even him, Lance threw down his bayard and stormed off the training deck.

The remaining paladins looked from Keith to Shiro, Pidge hardly bothering to lift her head off the floor before she dropped it back down with a thunk.

“That went well.” she commented flatly.

Shiro sighed, dropping his arms.

“Keith.”

Keith visibly bristled, already hating where this was heading, and Hunk took a careful step away from his teammate.

Shiro ignored Keith’s wary-feral-dog look and soldiered on. “Keith. This can't go on. This tension between you two is hurting the team.” He closed his eyes and crossed his arms, a mountain unmoved by the firestorm about to roll over it.

To absolutely no one's surprise, Keith exploded. “Are you kidding me? You want me to go fix this like it's somehow my fault that he started this stupid ‘rivalry’ thing? I didn't ask for this!”

Shiro sighed again. “I don’t care who started it, Keith, but I can't order him to like you. You're the only one who can put this to rest.”

Pidge and Hunk gave each other uncomfortable looks as Keith visibly seethed.

“Fine.” He eventually spat, turning on his heel and marching out after the blue paladin.

 

Keith had no idea where to find Lance. After checking his room and failing in that first attempt, he was completely at a loss for where else to look. He didn't really expect to find the jerk in any of the common areas after an exit like that, and he just didn't really know him well enough to have an idea of where he might like to hide.

Not that he hadn't tried. The ridiculous and flippant pilot of the blue lion had rubbed him the wrong way from the moment they'd met, but after they'd learned to form Voltron, and especially after Lance had been hurt, he'd found all the venom in their arguments had drained out. At least, on his end they had. If he was being completely honest, Keith actually didn’t mind Lance. When he wasn't being a total ass or trying to flirt like his life depended on it, he was actually pretty funny. And he had a certain warmth about him, an innate ability to connect and communicate with other people - despite how legitimately ridiculous he and his ideas were on the whole - that Keith was more than a little jealous of. But he had his pride, and letting Lance just get away with his perpetual barbs unchallenged was asking a lot. And besides, these days their rivalry was usually kind of… fun.

Usually.

Keith sighed loudly and turned to wander the castle in search of his ‘rival’.

 

Lance stared at the turquoise water of the pool on the leisure deck, eyes unfocused, letting the dancing refracted light sooth him into numbness. He'd found the pool a few weeks ago after he'd been wandering the castle bored out if his mind, and instead of immediately rushing to tell everyone and instigating an emergency pool party, he'd kept it a secret. The Olympic sized rectangle of water reminded him of home, and if he let his focus drift long enough, he could smell the chlorine and hear his brothers and sisters shrieking happily as they splashed in the water. His family had always been water-people, every family outing usually involving a pool or a lake or a beach. If Lance tried very hard, he could still remember the way the sun felt, baking on his back as he and his twin sister sat on their surfboards, splashing and bickering good-naturedly as they waited for the perfect swell.

“There you are, jesus christ, how did you even find this place?”

“OH MY GOD, YOU FOUND IT, IT MUST NOT HAVE BEEN THAT HARD.” Lance fell back against the cold non-skid flooring dramatically. Of course Keith had to come and find him here. Of course. Why would it have been Hunk, or Pidge, when it could be fucking Keith? “What are you doing here?” he asked, exhausted.

Keith walked up to Lance’s head, and dropped down gracefully next to him. Feeling particularly petty, Lance wormed away a couple inches. Keith snorted, unamused. “Shiro told me I had to fix this. So I'm here.” He kept his eyes carefully trained on the far corner of the room, but Lance could see the muscles in his jaw clench.

“Fix this.” Lance said evenly. Keith glanced down at him.

Lance burst into laughter.

Keith grit his teeth and knocked him in the side of the head with his foot. “Come on man. Why do you hate me so much? What did I do?”

Oh, he’s serious. Lance felt the laughter drain out of him, and he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He thought for a moment, considering. Should he be honest? Was he strong enough to verbalize the fact that he didn’t actually hate Keith at all, that the talented but dumb pilot was actually annoyingly easy to work with, that he could easily see them becoming friends if he could just let go of his own pathetic self-loathing?

Lance looked Keith in the eye, wavered for another minute, and then sighed.

I guess I owe it to him.

“You didn't do anything. You do everything.” Keith was just staring at him blankly, not even seeming to remotely comprehend the levels to which he was driving him insane. Lance felt his heartbeat speeding up, his face contorting as the ugliness of his feelings came pouring out into the light. “You do everything better than me, Keith! I can't even…” Lance trailed off, swallowing thickly. “I can't even compete.”

Lance watched his rival's brow furrow with a sort of detached appreciation. Keith had really nice eyebrows. Lance realized that musing on his teammate’s aesthetics was probably just his brain doing anything it could to avoid this inevitable conflict, but he couldn't see why paying attention would have a better outcome. Submitting to his subconscious’ desperate distractions, he traced the creases of Keith’s brows with his eyes, like a sculptor assessing his model.

“Lance. That's not, that's not my fault. You can't just take out your insecurities on me! And why are you even comparing yourself to me anyway? We're completely different people, of course you're not going to be as good as me if you're trying to play by my rules. We're like, playing completely different games! Competing like this is just stupid, and it’s making you worse!”

Lance realized a little too late that Keith had stopped talking, and Keith shoved him, hard. “You're not even listening to me.”

Lance stared at his rival, eyes wide in a sort of dull shock. He'd been too busy cataloguing Keith's features to hear at first, but now he dropped the defense mechanism and his brain jump started as he realized Keith really was trying to ‘fix’ this.

“I'm listening.” Lance coughed uncomfortably. Keith glared, and Lance resisted the urge to zone out again. Conflict wasn’t really his strong suit. Well, actually, conflict resolution wasn’t really his strong suit. Keith being right didn’t help his ego any either. “I guess you're right, but you don't exactly act like you have any faith in me, ever.” He said somewhat petulantly.

Keith just stared at him with his mouth gaping like a fish. “Lance, what reason do I have to be supportive of you when you’re always so… mean?!”

Lance’s first reaction was instinctive. He wanted to tease Keith for calling him a big meanie like he would one of his siblings. The words were almost out of his mouth before he really saw the look in Keith’s eyes.

It was more than a little broken.

“...Keith?” He prodded delicately, sitting up. Keith turned to look at him, expression raw, as if he’d suddenly realized exactly how deep his own feelings went.

“Lance-” He started, voice unexpectedly thick. He paused to collect himself, breathing deeply. “Lance. I’m an orphan. This is… this is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family, and you, you’re…” he took another deep breath, and dragged his gaze back to lock with Lance’s. Lance felt that laser vision penetrate his soul. “You’re keeping me on the outside of it.” Keith’s eyes were red now, shining in the reflected light of the pool.

Lance felt his heart shatter, and he was speechless.

He was…

He was the worst.

Lance could feel words trying to escape his throat, but only a strangled noise managed to make it out. Keith’s eyes were still locked with his, his gaze melting Lance’s insides as if he were pouring lava down his throat.

Lance had been sitting out here, comforting himself with memories of all the people who loved him while he practically tortured his teammate, all because he couldn’t deal with his own feelings of inadequacy. Because he didn’t think. Because he was an idiot.

Because he was inadequate.

Lance didn’t realize he was crying until he noticed Keith’s weirdly perfect brows had twisted into a new and confused shape.

“Why are you crying?!” Keith demanded, suddenly totally out of his depth.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I just, I’m sorry, I -” Lance babbled, flushed and embarrassed. He sat up more to hide his face in his knees, frantically trying to scrub his face clean of tears while simultaneously sobbing harder and harder. Keith began to look like he might vomit. Lance couldn’t handle it.

He was the worst.

How he ended up sobbing uncontrollably on Keith’s shoulder while the red pilot’s soul seemed to be trying to leave his body he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that Keith’s shoulder was solid and warm, and that simply saying ‘sorry’ a thousand times and sobbing wasn’t going to be enough to fix this. Lance pulled back, suddenly full of determination, and got himself together.

There was only one way to fix this.

Lance was gonna be the best fucking friend Keith had ever had.

Keith was still staring at him warily, hands held up uncertainly, body rigid. Lance forced himself to sit upright, wiping his nose and trying to look serious.

“Keith.”

The red paladin visibly jumped at the sound of his name.

“Keith,” Lance continued, determined. “There’s nothing I can say that will erase how totally cheesing awful I’ve been to you since this whole mess started, but I’m sorry. I’m really, really, really sorry. And I’m gonna make it up to you.”

Keith was still looking at him like he’d grown a second head, but he wasn’t scowling anymore. Lance took that as a good sign. He stuck out his hand rigidly, “Can we…” he shook his head, steeling himself again, and rephrased. “I’d like to be friends. For real. No more outside,” he said seriously.

The look of disbelief on Keith’s face lasted a few more ticks, but eventually he seemed to come to the conclusion that Lance was honestly and truly done crying, and also that he meant it. Face relaxing into a very relieved if small smile, he stuck his hand out, grasping Lance’s.

“Okay. Friends.”