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It took Lance a while to come to terms with the whole…not so straight thing.

At first it was just Shiro, because honestly, who isn’t attracted to Shiro? Especially when he walks around shirtless in the showers, or commands the team in that deep, impressive tone.  Lance was cool with it. He’s just 99% straight, and that 1% is Shiro. That shit happens, right?

Well, of course, Keith just had to come in and fuck it all up. Keith, with his dumb pretty eyes and his dumb pretty hair. It took Lance a really, really long time to admit that the boners during sparring practice weren’t just a heat of the moment thing. Erm, especially when Lance found himself watching Keith do mundane things, like sip his tea and wipe down his sword, eyes focused, sleeves rolled up to his shoulders.

Ah, yeah. Not so 99% anymore. Bisexual was more the term he was looking for. Lance slowly learned to be okay with it.

People have multiple crushes all the time! Hell, Lance was still hella crushing on Allura.

Except, erm, Lance came to understand the extreme differences between the two. Lance wanted to kiss the princess. Woo her, maybe? Hold her hand.

Lance wanted Keith and Shiro to destroy him.

Lance is concerned for his own mental health. He’s blaming the space food.


There’s nothing worse than that gross, bubbly feeling that grows in the pit of your stomach when you’ve fucked up.

In this case, it happens the day that Lance sees them, Shiro and Keith, snuggly and happy on the couches of the common room area. Shiro’s arm drapes across his shoulders, Keith smiles like Lance has never seen.

It feels like a knife in your chest, a hand at your throat, a kick to the gut. Fuck, it hurts – to see that Lance has lost both of the people he’s fallen so disgustingly hard for. He runs that day, back to his room, to curl up in blankets and place his hands over his ears.

It becomes common knowledge that they’re dating.

Lance is all smiles and teasing nudges, silly eyebrow wiggles and funny jabs. Shiro rolls his eyes, Keith barks back.

Lance’s chest hurts.


“Watch it!” Keith yells, standing up from the ground. He pats the side of his head, just to feel for any burns.

“I’m watching it!” Lance shouts back, “I protected you, didn’t I?”

“Guys, come on.” Pidge sighs, “We were doing so well.”

Keith grits his teeth – turns because he doesn’t actually want to put up a fight. They are improving, slowly, as a team.

The drones circle around them – Hunk is the first to take a blast, and fall through the floor. Lance watches the bot fly to his left, one above him as well. He can see it circling towards Shiro – he dives to take the blast with his shield, then another.

Pidge goes next – dammit, Lance forgot to watch his right. Keith curses behind him; he continues to block more blasts with his shield. They black up closer, heels pressing together, almost. Lance can feel his breath laboring already.

“Fuck.” Lance grits, and blocks a blast from nailing Keith in the thigh, “Why does this have to be so hard?”

“It’s supposed to simulate real combat!” Coran bellows over the speakers – the paladins sigh.

There’s another bot that flies, buzzing with blue light. Lance’s eyes narrow in; he can see exactly where it’s going to shoot. He dives, arm stretching out his shield to cover Shiro’s midriff. Ah, but he underestimates the trajectory, and takes a shot to the shoulder.

There’s a call of Lance! but he’s sucked through the floor. Game over again.

He can already see Pidge and Hunk gathering themselves up, dusting off their pants, popping joints back into place from the fall. Lance groans; he smooshes his face in his hands and breathes out the frustration. Keith falls into the room next, cursing the day to kingdom come, before Shiro falls after.

Coran calls through the speaker, “Great job team! You made it thirty seconds longer than last time!”

They unanimously groan.

“Man.” Pidge sighs, “Technically it would take years of teamwork and practice to reach the level of the past paladins.”

“We don’t have years.” Keith grits, “We need to be better now.

“Patience.” Shiro calls, smooth and pretty as he stands. Lance swallows – watches the way Keith’s eyes smooth over, and his shoulders relax. Keith pops off his helmet; Lance is momentarily distracted by the way his hair falls around his face.


He jumps, turning to Shiro – who still looks so attractive, even with the sweat rolling down the curve of his neck.


“I saw that block you did to ‘save me’.” He grins, “That was pretty brave of you.”

“I uh..” Lance laughs, and rubs behind his head, “I was expecting to catch that with my shield. But I’ll take the credit anyways.”

“Still, it was a great dive.” Shiro clasps him on the shoulder, and fuck, fuck, Lance’s entire body runs warm. Shiro’s eyes are still on him, round and beautiful, and Lance’s egotistical attitude dies in his throat.


“You would’ve died anyways.” Keith pipes, “So whats it matter? You’re supposed to save yourself and your teammates.”

Lance blurts, face feeling hot, “Shut it, Keith!”

Keith raises his hands defensively; the palm on Lance’s shoulder leaves, and he can finally breathe again.


Lance catches them in the showers afterwards. It seems they had waited until Hunk and Pidge were out – they must’ve assumed Lance went with them too.

But no, Lance walks in, towel over his shoulder, and sees Keith hoisted up by his thighs, pressed against the adjacent wall, arms around Shiro’s neck as he sighs. Shiro holds him still, face buried somewhere between Keith’s shoulder and throat.

Lance’s body is forced still from shock, breath sucking in and not breathing out. He forces a hand over his mouth – braces the other in the doorway.

Keith and Shiro are so…not secret, but, private, about their love life. They’re respectful. They hold back the PDA. So, Lance stands there, heart twisting and turning because oh my god they look so gorgeous together. How long have they been doing this? Here? Against the shower wall?

Lance turns on his heel and doesn’t shower until early morning.



“Hm?” He turns away from the balcony, eyes blinking away their blurriness.

“I made food, yo.” Hunk gestures with his thumb.

Lance grins, “You’re the best, bro.”

“Er…” Hunk shifts on his feet, hands twisting behind his back, “Real…uh. Real quick question.”


“Are you doin’ okay?”

Lance blinks, and blinks again. He tries to look taken back, “Me?”

“Yeah man, you’ve been kinda’ distant.”

Me?!” Lance sputters a laugh, and claps him on the shoulder. “I think you’ve been eatin’ too much space food, buddy.”

“So everything’s cool?”

 “Bro.” Lance gestures to himself, cocky grin and all, “Do I look like somethings wrong?”

Hunk rolls his eyes, elbows him for good measure, and begins walking towards the kitchen again. “That ego is gonna’ get you in trouble one day.”

“Stop listening to everything Shiro says.” Lance teases, and slaps Hunk on the back as he walks. Something in his chest tightens once more, like a wind up toy box.


Time is really hard to tell here, in the castle. Between fighting off goons, and training to fight more goons, it’s easy for time to just slip by.

It feels like a while has passed since Keith and Shiro started dating, or whatever. Lance still wants to kiss Keith after they fight. He still wants to press his fingers into Shiro’s abs, and feel those arms around his shoulders. But it’s okay. Lance grins and moves on – he’s water, isn’t he? Adaptable?

Except, something is wrong. Something has changed.

It started with the small things, like Shiro grabbing his shoulder. It started with just the shoulder, but now it’s become the nape of his neck, the curve of his lower back, his left hip-

Each friendly tap after battle sends Lance reeling. And for fucks sake, it’s so not cool to lust after someone in a relationship, but Shiro is making this really, really hard.

Keith too, goddammit! It seems like he’s decided to forgo wearing shirts completely, especially during training. He never dries his hair after the shower anymore, instead walking around half naked, hair dripping, water slipping down the curves of his back.

Lance. Is losing. His goddamn. Mind.

During dinner one night, Keith’s thigh brushes against his own as he stands. Lance nearly chokes, ignoring the look from Pidge.

After successfully forming Voltron, and kicking major ass, Shiro ruffles his hair and pulls him into a side hug, all warm presses of body heat and comforting vibes, before pulling away with a handsome smile.

Even during missions, when Lance somehow manages to land a right kick, there’s a call of “Great job, Lance,” -and it’s not from Shiro.

Lance stands in the shower, the water turned to cold, forehead pressed up against the tile. He mumbles to himself, eyes squeezed shut.

He’s imagining it. The heat in their touches. The smiles in encouraging words. They’re just happy – happy that they have each other, and they’re rubbing their gross couple-y  vibes all over everyone else.

Stop it Lance stop it. Stop holding in your breath every time you pass them. Stop thinking about them at night. Stop! As much as you try, and try, the world doesn’t revolve around you.

He breathes in, and out. At times like these, he’d talk to his mom. No matter how busy the family was, she’d always, always be there if he needed help.

The homesickness, combined with the squeeze around his heart, makes Lance smack his forehead against the tile one last time.


“This is so not fair.” Lance grits, forced onto his knees, arm pulled behind his back.

He can hear Keith’s smugness, dammit. “Keep up.” He lets go of Lance’s arm, and the latter slumps, catching his breath.

“How about I hand you a gun?” Lance snaps, “See how good you do with Shiro’s head on the chopping block.”

Keith doesn’t let the comment get to him, instead, placing a hand on his hip and smirking, “Making excuses, now?”

“No.” Lance huffs. He stands up straight, wipes the sweat from his brow, and brings his arms up into a defensive positon. He focuses on Keith’s body language – tries not to think about how pretty his face is. “Come at me, shitty hair.”

Keith makes the first move, Lance manages to doge. Except, Keith is quicker on his feet, more agile. He comes in with a left hook, and Lance barley blocks the fist with his forearm. He tries to swing with his left, but he’s much slower.

Lance huffs out frustration, breathes out hard air. Keith easily swipes out his leg, and Lance falls. Ah, but if he’s going down, this fucker is going with him – because he grabs on, and pulls Keith down too.

The fight falls to the mats, a harmony of labored breathes and pained grunts. Lance gets a thigh around Keith’s hips – manages to flip them once, before Keith uses his damn upper body strength to flip them again. His knees lock Lance in place; he sits up with a cocky grin.


“Fuck!” Lance pants, head smacking back to the mat, chest heaving with effort.

“You’re awful at this.” Keith says, wiggling a little on Lance’s la-aaap fuck. Fuck!

 Lance tries to squirm out from beneath him, but Keith keeps him locked between his thighs. He raises an eyebrow.

“Just you wait.” Lance pouts, “One day I’ll kick your ass.”

“Then get good, scrub.”

Lance gasps, and then surges upwards, hands reaching to punch him, or strangle him,  or like, totally not grab around his firm waist and squeeze – but Keith grabs his hands easily. He leans forward, even, shifting his weight on his knees, and yanking Lance’s arms up above his head. Lance let’s out a little oof sound. He looks up and scowls; he opens his mouth to say fuck off – but it dies in his throat.

Keith is so close now, close enough for Lance to count each of his long eyelashes. Lance freezes, hands above his head, knees bent up, pressing against Keith’s ass. Keith's really...nice...ass.

“You are just too easy.” Keith mumbles.

“What does that mean?!”

“Nothing.” He says, still close, still breathing in the same air as Lance. He’s hovering. He’s not moving, just sitting there, eyes dragging to look at Lance’s nose, cheeks, lips, before smirking and letting go. Lance rips back his hands. Keith stands up, but not before lightly grinding into his lap. He walks away to grab his water bottle.

Lance is left there, chest heaving, actually kind of hard.


Something…. something isn’t right.

Keith doesn’t do shit like that. Lance watches to see if he tackles Hunk to the ground – watches to see if he too wiggles in his lap.  But of course, he does no such thing.

Lance tries not to jerk off in his bunk that night, oh does he try. Cat piss, abuela’s clam chowder, Hunk’s sweaty shoes-

But it doesn’t work. The image of Keith leaning over him, dark eyes swirly and shimmery, lips pretty, hair crestfallen between them both, thighs astride his hips- it’s way too much.

It's that night that he sheds his pants. That night that he sucks on his fingers and presses his face into the pillow as he slighty, slightly stretches himself open.

Lance feels like he’s been through a blender. The whiplash is unreal.  He’s getting double teamed by Shiro and Keith – two who don’t even know what they’re doing to him.

There’s a mission that ends; an attack that was rough, but doable. They’re a little banged up – a little tired. Lance does a number on his lion, totally on accident, mind you.

Unfortunately, he comes out just as scratched as Ol’ Blue. A few bruises, but mostly small cuts, wrist to cheek, from the fist fight. Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to jump out of his lion and take the guy head on. Lance is mature enough to recognize that he makes mistakes sometimes.

Still, he pops off his helmet with a sigh, collapsing onto the couch in the common room. Shiro already gave everyone the Good Job Pat on the Back - sent them off to shower with a smile. 

Lance lets his head fall back against the couch, chest pushing out air. He’s fuckin’ exhausted, his body unbelievably heavy. He’ll shower later, he figures. Maybe he’ll sleep here for now.

Except there’s a dip in the couch – Lance opens an eye, and sees a frowning Shiro.

“Hey.” Lance closes his eye again. “M’ jus’ gonna’ nap here.”

“No, you’re not.” Shiro shifts on the couch. He sets something down with a clunk. “Sit up.”


“Shirt off.”

“Excuse me?” Lance opens his eyes- looks down to his torn up uniform.

Shiro doesn’t repeat himself; instead he sits there, eyes narrowed, first aid kit in his lap. Lance lets out a laugh. He falls back against the couch and grins, “Aww, thanks Shiro, but I’m fine. Just beat.”

“Lance.” Shiro says low, and gravely – and holy hell, Lance is suddenly very awake. He stares, stares because he can’t breathe. Shiro is giving him this look, shoulders squared, face set and serious.

Lance swallows, “Er…fine then.”

He reaches for the back zipper of the uniform; he winces when it stings his wounds. A hand joins his own, a rough, strong, callused one. His fingers trail long and slow, pulling the zipper down to Lance’s lower back.

Lance holds his breath, and looks away from Shiro as he shrugs out of the top of his uniform. He winces a few times, but manages to wiggle the top down to his hips.

Shiro eyes him disapprovingly – looks across all the dried blood, and bruises. “Seriously, Lance?”

“Hey, we got what we needed, didn’t we?”

“Yes, but barely.” Shiro begins, pulling the wet rag resting on his thigh up to press against the deepest cut in Lance's side, “You can’t keep rushing in there without thinking. That’s Keith’s thing.”

Lance snorts, and then hisses as the rag carefully traces around the slice. “Owww, Shirooo-“

“We’re supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to make decisions together.


“And I’m your leader.” Shiro grits, jaw set, eyes narrowed where he cleans across the other small scrapes. “It’s my job to keep you safe.”

“Shiro…” Lance swallows, eyes softening.

“You trust me, right?” Shiro asks, serious and deep.

“W-what? Of course I do.”

“Then be more careful. Listen to me.” Shiro’s eyes turn up, human hand now running the wet cloth across the cut in his arm. Lance forgets that breathing is a thing. His heartbeat is in his ears. Shiro’s voice turns softer, “I really hate it when you guys get hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Lance blurts, despite himself, because that look in Shiro’s eyes is killing him. His hands are…so gentle. They’re horrifyingly close, thighs touching and all. Lance is so gay. So, so gay. So gay-

Shiro smiles; he grabs Lance’s wrist and brings it closer to carefully clean the edge of the scrapes there. “Still…it was a stupid move, but you were incredibly brave.”

Yep. There it is. There it is. The tone that makes Lance want to physically melt on the spot. His vision goes a little blurry. Is he hard? He thinks he might be half hard.

Both hands grip Lance’s wrist, one softly pressing the rag into his palm, wrist bending back as Shiro dotes over the last of his scrapes. The hands leave, dipping into the first aid box for an antibiotic. Lance slowly pieces his brain back together, slowly remembers to speak. “Pff, all in a day’s work for a top notch paladin.”

Shiro smirks; he squeezes some of the antibiotic onto his human fingers, and lathers it up in a way that should not be as erotic as it is.

“This is going to sting.”

“Pshh, Shiro I’m not a bi-ow!” He yips, wincing as Shiro smoothly coats the smaller cuts with his fingers. His hands are warm, slowly sweeping to the cut beneath his nipple, to the small slice above his hip. Lance is very, very happy that the slack from the top of the suit is covering his crotch.

He can feel himself blushing; it’s annoying, when you can feel your face heating, but you can’t do a damn thing about it. Shiro isn’t really paying attention, more focused on smoothing over the antibiotic.

Shiro takes his hand again. Lance considers death a plausible way out of this.

He presses over each slice – each cut gets a band aid.

“Dude.” Lance clears his throat, “I uh, can do this myself, you know.”

Shiro huffs a laugh, “You can, but that doesn’t mean you will.”

Hm. Touché.

“You worry too much.”

“It’s my job to worry.” Shiro pulls away, and reaches for the spray antibiotic to coat the big slash across Lance’s chest. “You guys are under my command. My care, too.”

Is it hot in here? It feels very, very hot in here.

The spray stings like hell – but then comes the bandages. Shiro starts at his side, warm fingers working softly around his torso. Lance notes that his cyborg arm is warm too – it doesn’t scratch. It doesn’t feel like rough metal. It’s just smooth. Kinda’ cool, too.

Shiro wraps him carefully, securing the bandage in place. His fingers linger for just a moment, hovering there, right above the skin of his hip, before the hands pull away. Shiro smiles, “Alright. Good to go.”

“Great.” Lance swallows, “How do I shower?”

“You don’t. Welcome to sponge baths.”

Lance groans, head dipping back against the couch. Although, his eyes follow Shiro - follow him as he slowly stands, patting the outside of Lance’s thigh, before gathering the med kid and walking away.

His thigh burns.


In hindsight, that was probably the most intimate medical care Lance has ever received.


He looks himself in the mirror – really, really looks. Lance is a little skinny. He’s gotten tanner, which is fine with him. He looks himself in the eye and grinds his teeth –

It’s all in your head. It’s all. In your head.

Move on. Move on.

You’re their teammate. Their friend.

They have each other.

He looks to the fading marks across his arms. Soon they’ll heal, no evidence left of Shiro’s tender fingers. Nothing left to show that Shiro ever touched him at all.


Lance squeezes his eyes shut; he thumps his forehead against the mirror and sighs.


It’s getting worse. How? Fuck if Lance knows, but it is. Each brush in the hallway – each hit during sparring, each good job! – it burns him, simmers his blood, sets his body on fire.

Lance is so desperate. Fuck, he’s so pathetic. He can’t even move on. Can’t stop thinking about both of them. He tries to think of the princess more, but it’s fruitless. Lance is suffocating, drowning, in the emotions he can’t control. Stupid crushes. Stupid feelings.

He’s eighteen. He should have his shit together, for fucks sake.

The catalyst – the true tipping point – is when Lance goes looking for Shiro. He needed a sparring partner. Someone to beat out frustration with, since Keith is definitely a no- go for sparing, and Hunk and Pidge are gone doing god knows what.

He knocks on the door. Knocks twice, for good measure. No one answers, so he knocks again:

“Yo, Shiro?”


Lance props his hand on his hip in exasperation. Seriously, man, Lance has looked everywhere. This is getting annoying.


Nothing again. Lance huffs, waiting another moment, before the door slides open. He blinks, surprised, and steps in. 

“Ayo, Shiro, are you down to spa-“ Lance bites himself off, head reeling, hand bracing up against the doorway.

Keith is in his lap, hands behind Shiro’s head, thighs on either side of his hips. Lance can’t see between them, but he’s got a pretty good idea of where Shiro’s hands are. Both of their heads whip over, lips popping apart, eyes wide in surprise.

And uh, yep. That’s the feeling of over half the blood in Lance’s body rushing south at an unhealthy rate.

“Ah, er, uh-“ Lance stammers, nearly tripping over his own foot, “s-sorry!”

He sees their eyes, both beautiful and round – and he sees them dip down, to look at where he’s sorta tenting in his jeans, and the horror hits Lance like a train.

He gets one last look – one last glace at Keith, clothes ruffled, and Shiro, lips swollen and wet – before he turns on his heel and books it the fuck out of there.

“Lance, wait!”

Nope, nope. Not today, satan.

Lance runs down the hallway, not very graceful with a hardon, mind you, but he makes it halfway to the common room before he hears footsteps after him.


“For fucks sake-“

He’s not ready for whatever super awkward conversation they’re about to have. Why do they have to be so pretty? Why do they have to be so pretty together?

He loses them somewhere in one of the castle hallways. He manages to slide into his room and lock the door, breath heavy, chest squeezing.

He hopes for a day his heart beats normally.


He’s scared to leave his room for dinner, so he doesn’t. Pidge comes and finds him; they demand that Lance eat immediately, so he sneaks out of his room the best he can. He’s maybe halfway to his room, food tucked under his arm, and he’s yet to see Keith or Shiro.

Maybe if he avoids them long enough, they can forget this ever happened.

Lance turns the last corner to his room; he drops his food.

Hands, strong and warm, grip him by the waist. He gasps, flailing as he’s thrown over a firm shoulder. He looks down, legs and arms wiggling, yelping – until he sees Keith standing there, arms crossed, walking behind him.

Lance sags; he looks down to see the back of Shiro’s shirt as they walk.

“What the hell?!” Lance grits, and pounds a fist between Shiro’s shoulder blades. “Let me go!”

“Nope.” Keith fumes, “We tried doing this Shiro’s way, so now we’re doing this my way.”

“Doing what?!” Lance barks, still wiggling and squirming. Man, fuck Shiro. Why does he have to be so strong? And hot?

They walk into a bedroom – Shiro’s, he notes. He’s set down on the ground softly, but he has only one second to stand before he’s pressed up against the door, Keith glaring up at him.

“D-dude.” Lance tries to push back, “L-look, if you’re mad about me walking in on you guys, you coulda’ just t-talked to me. Jeez.”

“No.” Keith barks, “I’m mad because you’re the densest person I’ve ever met. An absolute moron.”

“Keith.” Shiro warns, low and authoritative behind him.

“It’s true!” Keith presses his forearm harder against Lance’s chest. “We’ve been dropping hints for weeks, and he still doesn’t have a fucking clue.

“Wait…” Lance pauses his struggle, his grip lessoning a little on Keith’s bicep. “What?”

“You’re a whole new level of naïve.” Keith grumbles. “I don’t even know why I like you.”

And it’s at this point exactly that Lance’s brain short circuits, and reboots.

Keith crosses the very small distance between them and tips his head, pressing their lips together in a firm kiss. Lance’s lips part out of shock, eyes widening, nails digging into Keith’s arms. He's overwhelmed, not thinking, only feeling Keith, Keith, how he smells, how he tastes. Keith kisses him, and kisses him. He doesn’t stop, head pulling back, lips parting, pressing, parting -

Cue the Windows XP startup sound: doo do do do doo doooo~

Lance’s brain clicks back on.

“I don’t even know why I like you.”

“I don’t even know why I like you.”

“- I like you-“

“Oh my god.” Lance says into the kiss and melts. Melts horribly. Melts and shatters into a thousand goopy pieces. He closes his eyes and tips his head and falls, falls, falls so hard into the kiss that his head thumps against the door.

Keith kisses forceful and hurried with purpose; Lance has only kissed a few people in his life, but enough to keep up, to keep their teeth from clicking. It’s so hurried and messy, but Lance scrambles to keep upright, to show that holy fuck he’s needed this.

But with the system reboot, comes the common sense. It hits him suddenly, like a kick to the gut.

He gasps, and pushes hard at Keiths chest, shocking him away to stumble towards Shiro- Shiro!

“-Shiro!” Lance blurts, stuttering, “B-boyfriend. Yours! Y-you-“ Lance blinks rapidly, fingers coming up to feel against his bottom lip.

Shiro chuckles, and wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders – a soothing motion that sets the younger at ease. “Do you want to try that sentence again?”

“What the fuck is going on?” Lance breathes. “You two are dating. What the hell? What the-“

“Dude.” Keith rubs his temples, “You are not that dense. Come on.”


“We like you.” Shiro explains. “We’ve tried to show you.”


Lance blinks. Blinks twice because holy shit.

It all comes rushing back – the soft touches, the compliments, the soft care and steady glances. It all comes rushing back so fast and-

“I’m an idiot.” Lance thinks aloud. Keith throws up his arms in an exasperated motion. Lance repeats, “I am an idiot.

“No.” Shiro pulls his arm away from Keith and grins, “Well, maybe just a little.”

Hey-“ Lance begins, head still reeling, processing all this, “-how was I supposed to know that you two would both be into some weird poly-“ he chokes off, as Shiro’s arms dip down and circle around his waist, tugging him close, his face pressing into the dip of his neck. Lance inhales, and freezes.

“He’s a hugger.” Keith says casually, taking a seat on the bed.

“Mmm.” Shiro agrees.

“W-wait, wait.” Lance chokes. “S-so you two just assume that I like you g-guys back? What if my heart only belongs to the princess? Hm?”

Both Keith and Shiro laugh, and Lance’s face burns.

“Please.” Keith flops back on the bed. “It’s been written all over your forehead for months.”

Goddammit, Lance can only blush so much in one day. He hates being caught off guard – hates it more when he can’t come up with a good retort.

“Well your…your hair is dumb!”

It's not.

“Mm. Creative.”

“It’s okay.” Shiro laughs, hands pressing soothingly into his lower back, making Lance melt like a damn popsicle. His nose buries behind his ear, much like a snuggly dog, “Your transparency is cute.”

Lance flushes, “Do I get to kiss you too, or?”

Shiro hums against his ear- pulls back just far enough to look him in the eye. He’s taller, of course, older by a few years, but less than you’d expect. It shows in his face, really, how nice and smooth his skin is, despite the scar across his face. One of the hands leave his back, rising to cradle the side of his face. Lance leans into the touch, almost subconsciously. The hand slips down behind his neck – Lance only watches his eyes until the very last second.

Shiro’s kisses are way different than Keith's. Not better, just, different. More practiced and refined. They’re slow, like Shiro takes his time and loves doing so.

“Cute.” Keith observes, kicking off his boots. “I’m tired.”

Lance huffs into the kiss, and Shiro pulls back with a smile.

“If you think all three of us are fitting in that bed, then there is something seriously wrong with you.”

“We can fit.” Shiro hums, and before Lance knows it, he’s being picked up by his thighs and set onto the bed, squished between two warm bodies.

“F-fuck!” Lance scrambles, half laughing because dammit is this real? Is this honestly happening right now?

“He does that too.” Keith hums, wiggling on to his side and up towards the pillow.

“Well.” Lance rubs his nose, “If I had god-like strength I’d probably manhandle people too.”

“So you admit Shiro is stronger than you?”

“Well duh.”

“But you won’t admit that I’m stronger than you?”

“Because you’re not!”

“Can we not do this?” Shiro laughs, squirming an arm around Lance's slim waist.

Lance huffs; he looks up through his eyelashes and sees Keith, in all his beauty, watching him through half lidded eyes. Lance isn’t sure when the banter turned into this – from real hate, to something more affectionate.

He’s still hungry. The bed is a little too warm.

For once, Lance doesn’t complain.

However, he does mumble, "Are you guys really uh...sure about this?" 

Keith rolls his eyes before he closes them, "Shut up, Lance." 

And thats that.

He doesn't fall asleep- his mind is still tripping over itself to understand that he has this. Through some weird, twisted turn of events, he has this.

Lance does, however, find solace in Shiro's body weight pressing against his back, and Keith's steady breathing as he sleeps.


They wake to an alarm – which surprises Lance the most, considering that he hardly remembers falling asleep, even.

The three of them jolt out of bed, Keith and Lance rushing to their rooms for their uniforms. It’s not exactly the morning Lance was hoping for – but this is their life  now. They’re at the beck and call of the universe.

Lance hopes that this…whatever they are doesn’t affect Voltron.

It doesn’t.


They come back tired, bones achy, sweaty and tired. They’re without a scratch, which is a total success in Lance’s book.

He still hasn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, so he scarfs down some of Hunk’s leftovers while the others shower. He knows he’s being a little quieter than usual, but his brain is whirring, like Pidge’s computer fan back on earth.

They like me?

We slept in the same bed last night, holy fuck. They like me. What, what.

 In the hallway he passes Shiro; the elder smiles, and continues down towards his bedroom.

Lance rubs the pink off his cheeks, all the way to the showers.

When he’s clean, body rejuvenated, happy in soft clothes, a hand grabs his wrist, and drags him all the way down the hall.


The door slides shut, and he’s pressed against the frame. What de-ja vu.

Dude.” Lance bites, as his head hits the metal, “Is this gonna’ be a reoccurring thing with you, or-“

Keith grabs a fistful of Lance’s nice, unwrinkled shirt, and hauls him down to shorten the distance, kissing him just as strong and needy as before. Lance finds himself wining, nearly, head tipping to kiss him back.

It’s like kissing an animal, or like, maybe it’s the other way around, because the fighting spirit in Lance’s chest simmers into warm fuzzies.

The hand in his shirt smooths out- reaches up behind his head even, to curl at the nape of his neck. Lance sighs; the kisses are warm and healing, maybe, because his body doesn’t ache like it did before. He worms his hands down by Keith’s hips, and runs his thumbs over the hip bones there. The way Keith kisses is addicting – it’s so easy to get swept away, gone to sea. Lance’s arms raise with goosebumps.

Keith pulls back, their lips popping wetly. He breathes, “Sorry. I didn’t get to do that this morning.”

Lance blinks once, twice, and then laughs, shoulders shaking, hands tightening around his hips. “I can’t blame you. I know I’m addicting.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but runs his nails up into Lance’s scalp, which feels hooo boy really awesome. If Lance could purr, he totally would, but instead he tips his head and hums. Keith brings his hands down to thumb around Lance’s ears, and says, “I’m running out of patience with you.”

“Eh?? What did I do?”

“You made me wait for this.” Keith huffs, and tips his chin up to kiss the curve of his neck. Lance shivers. 

“Oh, like I did it on purpose? You two are the assholes who couldn’t just talk to me.”

“I’m going to fuck you.” Keith murmurs against his neck, then his jaw, then the corner of his mouth – “Right here. And if the alarm rings, I’m still going to fuck you, Voltron and the universe be damned.”

Lance doesn’t want to give in, really, but that coil in his gut twists and his breath gushes out in a oh sound. The mental image is almost enough to make him swoon – which he doesn’t by the way, because he’s t-tough as nails.

“What makes you think I’ll let you fuck me?” Lance huffs, to cover his nerves – cover the way he wants it so, so bad.

“Something tells me you’ll be obedient.” Keith’s hands curve from his hair, down his neck, around his shoulders, dipping down his chest. His voice is smooth, and attractive,  “Especially if I tell you what a good boy you are.”

Lance knows he’s teasing, but fuck, that does him in so, so bad. The floor drops beneath him, his world swirls full of KeithHe brings his hands up and threads them through Keith’s hair – which is woah…really soft. He tugs hard, forcing Keith’s mouth to sloppily press against his own.

Keith lets out a muffled groan and kisses back, head pulling back to break, and pressing back in like a dance. There’s tongue and hands, knees between thighs, hair pulling and gentle biting –

Somehow they make it on the bed, Lance sprawled out against the pillows, hands pulled high above his head.

“Igh.” Lance huffs, and wiggles his wrists, “Do you have a thing for me on my back, or?”

“What if I do?” Keith hums, kisses down to his lips, down his chest, and when he can’t hold Lance’s wrists anymore he lets go.

Lance isn’t sure where his shirt went. Keith lost his somewhere too, which is totally fine, because Keith’s body is toned and smooth and completely hairless. It must all be on his head, dammit.

Keith noses into his stomach, mouth moving to nip at his sides before hooking his fingers into Lance’s beltloops. Lance isn't pliant by nature, but he thinks he might want to be.

The door slides open, and they freeze.

Shiro lets out a small laugh, and slides the door shut behind him. “It’s just me.”

Lance breathes out in relief, and Keith resumes like nothing happened.

“What’s going on?” Shiro hums, his voice really, really deep and nice. This must be his sex voice. Lance is definitely tenting now.

“M’ gonna’ fuck him.”

“Ah.” Shiro laughs, and grabs the chair from Keith’s desk. He turns it around to straddle it backwards, forearms bracing against the back, chin resting atop.

The motion is so fluid and effortless that Lance finds it kinda’ sexy – but his attention is turned back when Keith yanks his pants off completely, and chucks them to the floor.

“Hey, be careful with those. They’re my only not-space-jeans.”

Keith ignores him, instead, spreading Lance’s thighs and running his tongue along the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs. Lance chokes, and digs his fingers into the sheets, “F-fuck.”

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, “Keith can slow down if you don’t want to-“

“No, no!” Lance yelps, swallowing, “No. I’m just, like, agh.” He presses a hand against his eyes and breathes, “I’ve been pining after you two so fuckin’ hard, man. And like, I’ve uh…never uh. Actually slept with someone, so?”

It sounds like jibberish, but Shiro nods, “That’s fine. Keith can go slow.”

Keith hums, "Yeah. You're not the only one who's been pining." He moves down to mouth against the bulge in his underwear, wetting the fabric with the press of his tongue.Lance swallows down another groan, and flops his head back against the pillows.

“Little virgin Lance.” Keith teases, “Shiro, are you sure you don’t want the honors?”

Lance opens his mouth to fight the remark, but Shiro shakes his head, “You go for it. I’ll help.”

I’ll help.

There’s this really desperate noise that makes its way out of Lance’s throat, despite his best efforts. Keith’s eyes shoot upwards, and Lance meets them with a gasp. Damn it all, his eyes are so pretty, especially now, with the pupils blown wide. It's in this moment here that Lance realizes that maybe...maybe they are just as crazy about him. 

Lance watches, feeling a little helpless, as Keith finally tugs off his underwear in one full swoop, tossing those to the ground at last.

“H-hey.” Lance draws up a knee, exposed under Keith’s steady eyes. “Why am I the only naked one here?”

“He has a point.” Shiro pipes. 

Keith huffs, a little impatient, and maybe flustered – Lance isn’t sure, but it’s pretty adorable.

Lance grins, “Take it off, take it off.” His confidence slowly swells back, despite being buttass naked and harder than steel.

Keith grumbles and reaches for his belt, pulling it through the loops, the leather hissing. He stands up to shrug out of his jeans, and Lance watches with a smirk. Keith always looks sexy, even when he’s trying not to be. It’s one of the reasons Lance used to hate him so much.

Keith worms his jeans down and kicks them off – it takes more effort than it should, but that’s because Keith wears jeans tighter than a fucking swim cap. Lance looks over to Shiro; his eyes are fixated solely on Keith, pupils wide and swirly with affection. It’s actually adorable, and Lance would say something, but Keith is back on top of him, knees between thighs, mouth pressing against his throat. Lance barely has enough time to look between them and think dammit, he’s got a nice dick too-

“Let’s flip.” Is all Keith says, before they’re flopped on the bed, Lance astride his hips, blinking away the whiplash.

Lance swallows before he barks, “Can you guys stop fuckin’ manhandling me?”

“Why?” Keith palms his way down to Lance’s hips, and dips his fingers into his hipbones, purposefully avoiding the hardon between Lance’s thighs. “It’s fun.”

“It’s degrading.

“It’s cute.” Keith pipes back, before he reaches up with his left hand, and brings Lance back down to kiss him.

Now, here’s where they start to play dirty.

Lance is pretty sure that Keith knows  he can kiss like, fucking amazing, because whenever Lance accidentally moans, he smirks. Bastard.

He feels a tongue pry into his mouth, and Lance’s brain just kinda’ goes into autopilot. Like, why wouldn’t it? Keith is tracing every single tooth with his tongue, before petting his way across his tongue, and the roof of his mouth. Lance tries to reciprocate, but he’s barely holding his own weight, here. Spit drips past his lips, forced by the heat of his tongue. It's oddly erotic.

He doesn’t notice the bed dip behind him, but he does notice Keith grind his hips up, cocks slipping together, before pulling away. Lance chokes back a noise. It doesn’t sound sexy at all, but Keith smirks against his mouth and kisses him more.

Lance doesn’t pay attention to how long they do this, rutting against each other like animals, kissing slobbery and fast.

But Keith is evil. He’s a hundred percent evil, the distracting jerk.

There’s the pop of a cap, and wet, slick fingers squeezing his ass cheeks, pulling them apart gently.

Lance fucking squeaks, his arms going out, head nearly smacking against Keith’s, if not for the latter’s fast reflexes.

Oh my god, Shiro?”

“Sorry.” Shiro says, but doesn’t sound apologetic whatsoever. He presses a thumb against his hole shamelessly, rubs it there for a moment, and Lance lets out a raw groan, forehead falling to rest against Keith’s shoulder.

Heh.” Keith laughs; he runs a hand around to feel the bumps in Lance’s spine, the skin smooth and tan. “I knew you were a bottom.”

“Shut the fuck u- hhnnp," Lance groans. He subconsciously rolls his hips back when Shiro presses his index finger in. He notes, dully, that it’s his robot hand, which slides way easier with lube. It feels really good. Like, way good. Lance huffs, face red, dick twitching against Keith’s, “Did you guys plan this?”

“Whaaat?” Keith feigns innocence, with a grin, “Nah.”

Shiro’s touch is way gentler than Keith’s, but it’s still strong, and purposeful, like Shiro knows exactly what he’s doing, which is an enormous turn on. His finger presses in, slides out and in until Lance groans, and adds another.

“You’re okay, right?” Shiro scissors his fingers, and Lance keens.

“Hhhnn, of c-course I am. It’s not like I’ve never done this mnn-myself.”

Shiro sucks in a sudden breath, and bites his tongue.

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up, “Oh really?”

Lance feels his face burn, “Like you haven’t.”

“What’s your record?”


“I can beat that.” Shiro notes, and scissors his fingers, grinning around Lance to meet Keith’s eyes. Lance grinds his teeth – focuses on Keith’s hand trailing up and down his back. It’s weird, weird that this is happening, weird that Keith is being soothing, quietly helping him stay calm, and relaxed. 

Keith hums, and wiggles to rut his hips up for more friction. They’re pressed incredibly close now that Lance’s arms are officially jelly, but Keith can still rock his hips up, and feel Lance moan against his neck.

“Better hold on.” Keith states, “Shiro is good at this.”

Shiro adds a third finger, and Lance sobs.

G-god. Y-you would know, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, duh.”

Lance huffs out a wet moan, eyes watering because motherfucker, Shiro is way, way good with his hands, which comes as a surprise to literally no one. Shiro is pretty quiet, but Lance can feel his free hand ghosting up and around his thigh, soft and protective. Sometimes Lance can hear his breathing hitch when he wiggles his hips.

“Hhhrgh,” Lance huffs, “God. This feels w-way better than when I do it.”

Shiro laughs behind him, pulling out his fingers to thrust back in, the sounds wet, but strangely erotic.

“And water is wet.” Keith mumbles.

Shut up! I swear to god, If you don’t stop running your mouth, I won’t let you anywhere near my ass.”

“Now you know how it feels to be me.”

Bitch-“ Lance lifts his head up to argue, but Shiro curls his fingers, all three, right smack dab into his prostate, and Lance moans so loud he’s almost worried for his vocal chords.

“Damn.” Keith breathes out; his voice suddenly dips away from that playful tone, and down towards something more seductive. “That’s one way to shut you up.”

Lance can’t even reply, he’s breathing so hard, dick leaking a goddamn storm between their bellies. Keith hasn’t given up on his little ruts against Lance, which only set him more on edge, more on fire.

“Hhh.” Lance pants, eyes watering, “Fuck.” He's losing himself already, in warm hands and bodies, in sheets under his knees and Shiro's looming presence behind him.

"You're doing so good." Keith croons, soft and gentle against his cheek.

"Beautifully." Shiro pats his hip, and curls his fingers again, this time harder, and Lance actually yells.

Fuck! Fuck, Shiro, fuck, I’m-“ His hips rut down against Keith’s, back arching, jaw falling slack. Keith takes the opportunity to kiss him again, now that he’s pliant and warm. Lance can hardly kiss back, instead resting against him, letting Keith coax his mouth open with his tongue.

He thinks he might hear Shiro mutter a curse behind him; the hand squeezes his thigh as metallic fingers twist out softly, circling around his entrance and pushing back in. Shiro curses again, and Keith breaks the kiss to grin, “Something wrong back there?”

“N-no.” Shiro stutters, for the first time tonight. He laughs to himself, and trails his human fingers down to curl around Keith's ankle. “I’m way over my head with you two.” He leans down to lightly, lightly nip at the skin of Lance’s lower back, and the latter jolts, breath sucking in, eyes squeezing shut.

“He is pretty, isn’t he?" Keith says aloud, hands sweeping up Lance’s chest, around his shoulders, and behind his neck.

Shiro hums, “He is.”

“He’s been so good, too.”

Lance’s body burns. He’s not sure how long he’ll last; he's sweaty, his balls already tight. If Shiro curls his fingers again, he’s not sure-

“Don’t.” Keith calls back, leaning his head to the side to look Shiro in the eye. “He’ll come.”

The fingers leave. Lance panics.

He feels empty suddenly, which is weird, weird, this is all so weird, fuck fuck-

“Hey.” Keith mumbles; his hands come up to brace against his cheeks, forcing eye contact. “Hey.”

Lance pants, and shivers. Is this what he’s become?

“You’re okay.” Keith states, fingers coming up to brush Lance’s bangs back. Shiro massages his hand from his ass to his knees, a reminder that he's still there. 

“Yeah.” Lance blinks, and swallows. “O-of course I am. Who do you take me for?”

Keith smiles. He wiggles up a little on the bed, “Do you wanna’ ride me? I’ll let you stay on top.”

“Let me?” Lance sputters, sitting up on his knees, finally gaining back the feeling in his arms now that Shiro isn’t breaking him. “Pff, don’t underestimate me.”

Keith hums, and draws his knees up, his thighs pressing against Lance’s ass.

“Go slow.” Shiro warns. He watches, sliding out of the way enough for his back to press against the adjacent wall, his right leg hanging off the end of the bed, his left tucking underneath himself.

Go slow.” Lance parrots back. He sits up on his knees, sliding his hand down Keith’s chest with newfound purpose. “Like you guys have gone slow at all.”

“I told you I’m outta’ patience.” Keith says, eyes dark and lust ridden. Lance’s heart squeezes.

He looks down beneath him, down, to the pretty sweeps of Keith’s navel. He dips his fingers down and tentatively wraps them around the base of his cock. He watches Keith’s face – watches his breath suck in, and his eyes widen.

He strokes twice, just to feel the weight of it. It’s different than before, being pressed against his thigh as Shiro worked behind him. Keith looks exposed – it’s a good look for him.

Shiro provides more lube; Lance gets the pleasure of slicking it across Keith’s dick, and watching him whine. Lance wiggles up on his knees, and pulls Keith's dick up to line against himself. He’s a little nervous, but he’s harder than hell, and he wants this, oh Lance wants this. He wants to watch Keith fall apart. He wants to make Shiro proud. He wants, he wants. Lance’s body simmers with heat and arousal. 

He chews on the inside of his cheek, “I assume there’s no space condoms?”

“I’m clean.” Keith grits, his voice already wasted – which is empowering, holy shit. Keith huffs, “I’ll pull out, god, please, just move. I’ve been listening to you moan and wiggle on top of me for so long I’m-“

Okay then.

Lance presses the tip of his cock against his hole, forces his body to relax, and slips down an inch or so. Keith’s body seizes beneath him, head tipping back, a groan rumbling from his throat.

Lance pants with the labor of holding himself still. His thighs shake a little from the hovering position, and he’s not sure if he has the stomach muscles to hold himself here. It burns- Keith is bigger than he expected. The panic rushes back- 

Ah, but Shiro comes to the rescue. He reaches over with his right hand and braces it against Lance's lower back, holding him still. “Breathe, Lance.”

“I’m breathing!”

“Slower.” Shiro hums, low, and sexy as fuck. “Slide down a little,” his fingers massage into his back, “just like that. Good."

Lance listens to him, eyes fixated on Keith’s face as he eventually bottoms out, ass flush against Keith. It stings a little, but Shiro did a fine job of prepping him.

Shit.” Keith trembles with the task of staying still. “Lance.

Wow, his name sounds really good like that. Actually, all of this is good, really, really good. Lance feels full, good, protected, appreciated, everything he ever wanted, right here.

He knows he should move, but he can’t. Not yet, not with Keith looking at him like that, not with Shiro’s hand on his back.

Lance, Lance, Lance.”

Keith brings his hands up, palms spread out, and Lance doesn’t hesitate to take them. Their fingers thread together, and Lance suddenly feels a lot more balanced. He uses Keith as leverage to rise, lube squishing as he shallowly thrusts back down. They both groan, fingers tightening, backs arching.

The hand at his back leaves, but he can feel the heat of Shiro’s eyes behind him. Hot, hot. Everything is so hot-

Keith rolls his hips up, the last of his restraint crumbling away. Lance chokes, moans, grumbles out garbage because that’s who he is. Really, can you expect him to be quiet? I don’t think so.


“Lance-“ Keith coos, and rocks up, “-good. It’s, it’s-“

Lance’s hair sticks to his forehead as he tries to bounce on his cock. The physical exhaustion barely touches him now that his dick bobs against his hip, now that the endorphins rush through his blood. He rides him, maybe a little messy, maybe without rhythm, but it feels so awesome, dammit, it’s beautiful. It feels amazing, and Lance’s chest doesn’t hurt anymore.

It doesn’t, it doesn’t. That winding, that squeeze around his heart.

He holds onto Keith, rides him until he grinds right where he needs him, and arches his back into every cry.

"So good, Lance." Keith gasps as hips roll, "Waited so long- so good- hhn-" 

Lance squeezes his fingers and groans, the compliments pulsing between his thighs. 

He feels the need to see Shiro – he turns his head and about comes on the spot. Shiro is still there, but his pants are shoved down to the tops of his thighs, a hand between his legs, head tipped back against the wall, watching them both.

“Shit.” Lance whips his head back and groans, gyrating his hips. “S-shit.”

“Faster, Lance.” Keith prods, “Can you do that? I know, hahh, you can, Lance, you’re so good, so beautiful-“

Lance isn't sure how long he stays here, bouncing up and down, swiveling his hips, doing anything he can to feel better, better - but eventually Keith lets go of one hand, and works it around Lance’s cock and he’s gone. He’s gone. He’s coming so hard he almost falls, but for Keith’s hand in his. His voice goes raw, he makes a fucking mess, but damn he’s never felt like this, where his entire body tingles from the roots of his hair to his toes. The feeling pulses once, twice, multiple times until it dims. He's not sure what sounds he made. He doesn't want to know. 

It takes a moment for him to breathe – to open his eyes and see Keith, sweaty and squirming, trying to be patient. He whines, whines, for fucks sake, “Lance…”

Keith’s chest is sticky now, because of him. Lance wants a picture. He wants like, seven. He wants to tattoo this behind his eyes and see it forever.

Wow, things have changed. They’ve really, really changed, definitely for the better.

Keith is still wiggling, still hard in his ass. So Lance smirks down at him, his brain a little less foggy, and grinds down so hard that Keith yells.

Off, off, off-“

He slides up and away just quick enough for Keith to grip the sheets behind his head and sob, body shivering and shaking to pieces. Lance tries to work a hand over him fast enough, just to carry him through it, which Keith appreciates greatly.

It takes maybe half a minute for the room to simmer down. Shiro is quiet behind him. Lance isn’t sure if he can risk looking at him and getting hard again.

“What a fuckin’ mess.” Keith grumbles, head falling back.

“Your fault.” Lance blames immediately, but wiggles his way up to kiss Keith, slow and happy. Keith hums against him- thumbs against his cheek for good measure.

Lance rolls to lay at his side, Keith props himself up to look at Shiro.

“You alive over there?”

“No.” Shiro answers, now dressed again, but looking incredibly disheveled. “You guys killed me.”

Lance and Keith laugh, and it’s a really, really good feeling.


In all honesty, Lance never thought something like this was possible.

There’s just, like, way too much room for jealousy, ya know? Polyamorous relationships have become slightly more accepted on earth, but not by much. There’s a lot that can go wrong.

But they’re not on earth, are they?

Plus, Lance never really felt jealous, or anything. Walking in on them in the showers, in their rooms, seeing them snuggle and secretly hold hands – he was never envious of one or the other. He just like…wanted to stick himself in there. Watch? Maybe? They’re just hot, dammit, and now that Lance has them, he sure as fuck isn’t letting go.

Everyone knows what’s up by the next morning – nobody asks any questions when Lance sleepily climbs into Shiro’s lap one afternoon, or when Keith and Lance start making out heavily after a fight. Nothing is normal anymore, but that’s fine. He flies a giant space cat.

Pidge comes up with a PDA jar, mostly because Lance can’t really keep his hands to himself. Keith and Shiro are relatively good about that, but Lance tends to be the catalyst. How can they resist him? When he snuggles up to their side and makes little needy noises until they take his hand and hold it tight.

PDA Jar! Pidge will yell, every time.

Ah, but that’s fine. Lance is actually really happy – he’s not so homesick anymore. His chest doesn’t ache.

There’s a day where he walks in on Shiro and Keith in the showers, Keith on his knees, fingers digging into the back of Shiro’s thighs as he sucks dick like a champ.

And Lance grins – practically pulls up a seat to watch too. They’re especially gorgeous, naked and wet and hard. It’s fun to meet Shiro’s eye – watch the way Shiro slumps against the shower wall and pants. Lance feels invigorated – hopes to become as good a cocksucker as Keith.



“I wish we could go on dates.” Lance thinks aloud, as he lays on his back, shooting a rubberband up in the air, and catching it again.

“We can date after we save the universe.”

“But dude, that could be years.

“Where would we even go?” Keith snaps back, head turning in Shiro’s lap. “Oh, right, a lovely date in the lion hanger sounds nice.”

“We pass by planets all the time!” Lance fights back, “Like we can’t get Allura to stop by one for two hours. Come on, man.”

“Well, we’re already chasing a lead right now.” Shiro butts in, “You know, to find out what they’re doing with all that Quintessence. Maybe once things calm down.”

Lance gasps, wiggling up into a sitting position, “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe!” Keith bites, from Shiro’s lap.

“A yes maybe, or a no maybe?”

“A probably, maybe.” Shiro plays along, laughing when Keith sputters.

Lance cheers, “Yes!” He twists closer, and presses quick kisses against Shiro's cheek, jaw, neck, hair-  then lips, as Shiro turns with a laugh, and kisses him back. Ahh, Shiro kisses so well, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Why are you humoring him?” Keith flushes, just barely, and noses into Shiro’s thigh. “We don’t have time for stupid things like…like fancy dinners and movies.”

“Fine then.” Lance says, popping away from the kiss, “We’ll just leave you behind.”

Shiro reaches up with the hand not in Keith’s hair, and tips Lance’s face back, bringing him back in with just a twinge of impatience. Lance grins and goes to kiss him back – Shiro works his mouth open with his tongue, and Lance's brain stops working.

“D-don’t you dare.” Keith sputters, “I’m not saying I don’t want to go on one, I-I’m just – we don’t have time!”

Shiro hums, and breaks the kiss himself, “We’ll make time.”  He falls back down on the bed, head against the pillow, and Keith squirms up further.

Lance sticks out his tongue, and Keith matches it.

A few months ago they’d fight, probably - but now Lance just lies down next to Keith, orders him to scoot ya boot, Shiro’s got two boobs for a reason.

They’re not boobs, Shiro argues, flushing, as Keith and Lance laugh, all three of them somehow fitting on this small bed, pushed against the wall, floating in space.

A hand falls to thumb through his short hair. Another, smaller one, reaches around and flops over his side.

Mm, yes. Who’s the odd man out, now?