I Fall in the Dark (your love lights the way)

Part 1:

"Absorption and Reflection of Photons: I've Got Stars in My Eyes"

you showed me how to do
exactly what you do
how I fell in love with you
oh, it's true
oh, I love you

Keith narrowed his eyes.

The mismatched tropical plants seemed to crowd over each other, fighting for air, space, and nutrients. Thick, green vines hung limply, covered in suffocating flowers, and pastel bulbs stretched out from inside bushes, straining towards whatever sunlight that they could capture from beneath the claustrophobic canopy.

There was little to no animal life, no cacophony of screaming birds like Keith would expect there to be in a jungle. Perhaps all the vegetation killed them off. You never knew in an alien world.

The sky was just as crowded. The sun was yellow-orange when they neared this moon, but the purple-hued sky made it look a weird, dusty tan, especially as it was currently in the process of setting. That didn't even consider the other, smaller sun some degrees above it. Wasn't one sun enough? And that enormous planet also looming over the horizon, with it's bands of variegated colors, looked close enough to reach if you walked just beyond the curvature of the moon's surface. Was it's size just an illusion, like a harvest moon in the desert back on Earth?

Completely untrustworthy.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't that bad. The flowers could objectively be seen as pretty, perhaps, and the huge resident plant population meant that the ecosystem was lively, untouched by death or destruction. And maybe that planet looked pretty cool. It's just… Keith had never been one for humid climates – he much preferred the harsh aridity of West Texas to the moisture-laden air of more tropical areas.

"Keith, you're staring at those trees like they're out to murder you. Chill, they're plants,"

Lance came up to where Keith was standing then, lazily throwing an arm around his shoulder. Keith fought down the urge to throw his arm off, convincing himself that Lance was not being seriously condescending. Besides, his arm felt warm, but not uncomfortably so despite the weather. His jacket was really soft too – it's odd that Keith had never noticed before.

Keith softly huffed anyway, crossing his arms and turning his head away from Lance, who was looking down at him with… maybe an amused smile? It was hard for Keith to tell these things sometimes.

"Well, I just… I never have liked the jungle," Keith admitted. "Too many hiding places," The flat planes of the desert meant an even playing field for you and your enemy.

"Keith has a point, Lance," Hunk said, glancing up from what he was examining on the ground with Pidge. "You never know what may be lurking in these woods," he said, eyes comically wide. Was he mocking Keith?

"Yeah, there might be a fern with carnivorous spores that are out for your blood!" Lance pitched infacetiously, making a claw shape with his free hand.

Yep, they were definitely mocking him.

Pidge rolled her eyes from her spot on the ground, saving Keith from having to attempt a retort. "Lance, obviously ferns don't grow in tropical biomes – "

Keith stifled a smile. Pidge was there to back him up – this was her way of defending him from Hunk and Lance's shitty sense of humor. Sometimes Keith wondered if those two were joined at the brain or something, but he also knew that Lance and Hunk had known each other for a very long time. Was that sort of thing common among best friends? Their senses of humor… rub off on each other?

"Alright, alright," Shiro interrupted the three, stepping off the castle's ramp with some objects in his hand. "But, Keith, this is supposed to be a relaxingplanetary- er, moon visit. Don't let your guard down too much, but you can still take some time to just…" he waved his hand around generically, grasping for the right word.

"Chill out?" Keith supplied, deadpan.

"Right," Shiro nodded emphatically, ignorant of Keith's distaste for the term. He sighed inaudibly as Shiro walked out a bit farther, evidently taking in the terrain.

"Yeah, Keith," Lance agreed, removing his arm and throwing it behind his head, at perfect ease. As usual.

Keith frowned.

So, apparently, they were visiting this moon so that Coran would be able to take some 'exceptionally unique' quintessence samples that might be able to power the ship. If their data were right, they might be able to synthesize crystals made from plant quintessence, rather than having to harness actual crystals for their quintessence. It would be much easier to obtain, and would be infinitely helpful in the long run.

Or something like that.

Keith kind of… tuned out when he gleaned that it would be a scientific mission. And especially when Allura mentioned there was nothing the paladins could do except to 'enjoy the unparalleled beauty of the moon'. He wanted to stay in the castle so he could do something of value, but no. Couldn't do that. Had to 'take a break' and 'rest your mind and body' and 'just do nothing for a second, weirdo'.

That last one had been Lance, of course.

"Do you have all of the equipment ready, Allura?" Coran was saying as they emerged from the castle, adjusting his absurd-looking, vaguely sand-colored shorts that ballooned out from his waist before tapering just above the ankle. He had certainly dressed for the occasion, but Keith didn't really know what the occasion was. It wasn't particularly hot, on account of the moon's rotational speed – it's days and nights were about 4 hours each, according to Pidge, so there wasn't a lot of time for the surface to heat up.

"Coran!" Pidge said, jumping up from Hunk's side when she looked up. "Are you sure I can't do anything? I would love to check out these high-quintessence plants – if this works this would be an incredible application of bio-technology – even for Earth… Hunk, this…" She veered off her verbal course, looking back at Hunk, who was mirroring her contemplative expression.

"Dude," she said, eyes wide, "What if the quintessence could be used back on Earth? It could be the energy source –"

Hunk gasped dramatically, catching on quickly. "We've needed! How come I didn't even think of that? We couldn't reliably source crystals on Earth, but if we could grow quintessence plants? I just-" he squealed, and then Pidge and Hunk's conversation dissolved into something that Keith had little interest in following. He shook his head slightly with fondness nonetheless. Just then, Allura, dressed in her everyday armor, piped up and received everyone's attention.

"Sorry, paladins," Allura was saying, partially in response to Pidge. "But these plants are exceptionally dangerous to… less durable human physiology – they're quite violent, and almost border on animalistic tendencies,"

"See!" Keith quickly turned, throwing his hands out to where Lance was standing a few feet away. Lance looked at him, momentarily startled at Keith's outburst but then crossing his arms haughtily. "What did I tell you?" Keith continued. "Jungles are not to be trusted!"

"Oh, most definitely," Coran responded to Keith, interrupting Lance's attempted retort. He placed his overstuffed bag down while dramatically buttoning his sleeves. "These buggers are a prickly bunch to handle for two Alteans, but for a weaker human – no offense – it would be simply disastrous. They might literally eat you alive, not unlike a Joruvian klynthese would,"

"But!" Coran continued cheerfully, picking up his bag again and reading off his scanner. "That's precisely what makes their quintessence so potent! Princess, are you ready?"

Allura nodded, and then turned to the Paladins. "We'll be on the comms if you need anything. But there are no other dangerous plants on this planet that we know of, so don't worry too much, Keith. Have fun you all!" She said, waving with that practiced diplomatic cheer.

"Don't forget about those readings I want!" Pidge hollered to their retreating figures. Walking out of the clearing everyone was in, the two pushed their way through the growth until Keith could only detect them by the sound of footsteps. Then even that faded out, and Keith turned back to the others.

Pidge sighed, and then knelt back down next to Hunk. She muttered something to him, probably about what they were examining, which looked like some odd-colored soil. Her brow furrowed, she stuck some kind of… jabby device into it, then showed Hunk the results on her scanner. Hunk typed something on Pidge's laptop, tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth.

Keith frowned. He'd been doing that frequently today.

"How come they can do something useful while I just have to stand here like an idiot?" Keith complained to Shiro, staunchly ignoring how he had Lance's bitchy-ass whining down pat, complete with the hand-on-the-hips move.

From a few feet away, Shiro sighed in that resigned way of his. "Well, why don't you see if they need any help?"

Keith blinked, then nodded. That was a good idea, of course. It was Shiro, after all.

"Yeah, okay,"

Keith watched as Shiro smiled and turned, walking to a nearby tree just at the edge of the clearing and sitting down with some book that he had been carrying earlier. Apparently, he had already scouted the tree, and was… actually probably relieved to not have deal with something for just one minute. Keith wasn't about to bother him any further, so he crossed his arms and idly toed the dirt with his boot.

Yeah, no paladin armor allowed, either, per Shiro, although they were allowed to keep their bayards on hand.

Keith made his way over to where Pidge and Hunk were intently studying… whatever it was they were studying. Dirt or something. He waited until there was a lull in their activity, then stepped closer in front of their hunched forms.

"Need any help?" He said, trying not to sound too desperate. Normally he wouldn't be so eager to offer his services for something he really wasn't qualified for, but… he was grasping at straws. He had never been good with sitting still, something he and Lance had in common.

Pidge kept her gaze focused on the clear tube she had produced.

"Yeah. Keep Lance elsewhere, will you?" she grumbled as she scooped her sample in the tube with a tiny shovel.

In other words, you stay away, too.

Keith nodded. He understood and could accept Pidge's work habits. She had a one-track mind once she really got into something, so the blatant brush-off wasn't offensive in the least. He was actually surprised that she was working with Hunk at all, but he did have superior knowledge of geology-related subjects, so he was useful to her – something that had been happening more frequently as of late.

"I'll try my best," he said, stepping away in some general direction that was away from Pidge and Hunk. Glancing over to where Lance was, he noted that he was busy examining flowers or some shit, so there was little chance of his bothering them for the time being.

Of course, Keith himself didn't have that unique ability to be entertained by something as simple as the tick of a metronome, so he was standing around doing nothing, sticking out like a mountain on a flat horizon.

He sighed. Maybe Shiro had a point – Keith learned the hard way that Shiro was generally right about things, so he decided to mimic their leader. He went over to a small nook, where a reddish, knobby tree with white blooms hung low and blocked a majority of the fading sunlight, and sat down in a V created by two prominent roots. Resting his elbows on his knees, he glanced up at the sky. If he squinted hard enough, he could actually see the sky darkening by the minute, becoming less purple and more dark blue. He sighed deeply, trying to clear his mind and just… relax. Just relax.

The word sounded foreign. He absently picked at his cuticle, shifted his weight, and then started at the picking again. Then he tried focusing on the cooling breeze, the fragrance of the air, the soft laughter of Hunk from twenty feet away. He was, for the most part, successful at keeping whatever thoughts were lurking deep within his brain from surfacing – something he frequently failed to do in those few moments before sleep came.

After a few minutes, he glanced over to where Pidge and Hunk were, out of habit. They had actually abandoned their project, the laptop closed and their devices scattered, and as Keith looked he realized they were studying a bramble of those weird flowered vines he had been scrutinizing just fifteen minutes earlier. Lance was to their right, trying to… climb a tree? But he seemed to be almost glowing, like there was a source of light from inside the tree, even though it was almost dark. Hunk looked up at him, too, telling him to be careful dude. Of course. Hunk was always looking out for everyone, but especially Lance, and for good reason. Lance had a penchant for getting into trouble, but better climbing up a tree than getting chained to it.

"Hey, Keith!" Lance yelled, waving his arm to grab his attention. He had a grin on his face, looking every bit like he was perfectly at home standing atop a branch fifteen feet in the air. Hell, he was probably at home anywhere. Lance, from what Keith had seen, was the quintessential people-person, the kind of guy who was completely comfortable in almost any situation, social or otherwise. He really lived up to his element's properties: infinitely adaptable, open, and accepting.

Keith had never really envied anyone, never cared to devote the energy to doing so, but he figured he could do well to practice Lance's social-chameleon abilities. He couldn't count on his fingertips the number of times he royally screwed up some important diplomatic event by being 'standoffish' or 'brusque' towards an emissary. Allura's words, not his.

"Uh - What?" Keith yelled back, remembering a response was generally required in this situation.

"Y'wanna- shit-" Lance suddenly lost his grasp of the limb above him before quickly grabbing hold of the trunk.

"What did I tell you?" Hunk said, even though his back was turned.

"Y'wanna see who can climb the highest?" Lance called out, ignoring Hunk's forbearing grumbles. Keith couldn't see Lance's expression from this distance, but it probably consisted of his standard-issue cocky grin.

"What are you, twelve?" Keith snarked in lieu of a true response, actually somewhat invested in his pseudo-meditation and unimpressed with Lance's attempt at challenging him. Lance threw his arm in the air, a silent what does it take gesture that almost made Keith get up out of his spot. Almost.

As he turned his head to the sky again, Keith blinked, realizing it had actually gotten lighter, from maybe a dark blue to a… less dark blue. Keith wasn't exceptionally knowledgeable about the various shades of colors. He looked around the area again, and quirked an eyebrow.

Almost all the plants were glowing. The flowers of the tree Keith was under were glowing a bright white; the bushes and bulbs and petals and even some leaves were shining with various colors – bright light blues and pinks and greens. It cast strange, ethereal shadows on the grass, where tiny white insects that Keith hadn't registered in the daylight were hopping about between the blades that grew up around his boot. Those vines that Hunk and Pidge were examining also seemed to glow, turning their bodies into silhouettes, like people in front of a static-y TV in a darkened room.

Keith looked over to Shiro, where he also seemed in slight awe over how nice it all looked. Shiro glanced back at him, and even from this distance, Keith could see his slight smile before he turned back to his book.

The planet must be covered in these bright plants – it would explain the change in sky color. It also explained Allura's insistence on 'enjoying the beauty' or whatever she had said.

"What the hell?" Pidge yelled, loud enough for Keith to hear her distinctly. She was shaking her head emphatically, already in some one-sided argument with Hunk.

"Oh, sure, it makes perfect sense," she griped facetiously. "Hunk, what's the point of having everything all lit up? If everything's bioluminescent, why should anything be? It serves no biological purpose!" Hunk silently put his palms out in that universal gesture of acquiescence, not wanting to get in the way of Pidge's warpath. Keith could understand.

He glanced up at Lance one last time, and saw the other boy determinedly making his way up the tree solo.

Keith returned to his examination of the sky – it was the most interesting thing around. The sky was too bright, however, for Keith to see even a hint of the billions of stars he personally knew where out there. Was it because of the light emanating from the forest? It certainly was bright down here. It was as if the glow from the moon's surface replaced the glow from the cosmos.

Keith leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. No stars…

Back in West Texas, there wasn't another soul in any direction for fifty miles, let alone any amount of light pollution. Every night the mélange of the Milky Way stretched without end across the sky, yellows and blacks and purples that flowed into each other and glowed magnificently. And Keith would just lay on the ground, or on the battered roof of the house, and just stare, stare, stare, fascinated at the mysteries hidden away within the splattering of pinpricks, the smears of transparent colors that made the sky so much more than the empty blackness that you see in the cities would lead you to believe.

If Keith strained his memory, he could remember a few instances when his father would pull out his huge, handmade Dobsonian, built from plywood and schematics pulled off the internet, out from under a dusty tarp within their ramshackle shed. To Keith, always the smallest in class for the longest time, it was so tall, almost as if it could physically touch the stars. And in a way, it could. It was a portal that could almost physically pull you with it, transport you to as far as it could see.

He would stand on the rickety metal stepladder to look through it, at all the craters in the moon, at the farthest of the solar system's planets, at the fuzzy, deep sky objects that seemed so natural in their places and yet still completely inscrutable. Keith had had no idea what was out there. Back then, the objects had all the realism of paper cutouts, pinned on the ceiling for his viewing pleasure. Now, there were alien peoples, and all of his experiences, pains, and struggles indelibly attached to those cutouts, rendering them horrifically, beautifully real.

Truly, Keith's life had always revolved around the stars, his place was among the stars, and he could only hope he would die there. It would be fitting.

Keith opened his eyes and looked back at the others. Lance was quickly scrabbling down the tree, carrying twisted bunches of multi-colored, gleaming flowers. From this distance, it was hard to make out the shapes, but some looked like roses, daisies, lilies, others.

Lance circled around, laughing, and showed Pidge and Hunk what he had gathered. He had Hunk kneel on the ground so he could weave some through his dark hair, the light casting interesting shapes on Hunk's face. Hunk was giggling, trying to see what the blooms looked like scattered atop his head, when without warning Lance jumped up and slipped a flower with a particularly long stem through Pidge's hair.

Pidge gave him a half-hearted side eye when Hunk cooed, but grudgingly accepted the gift with a 'thanks' – although Keith was reading her lips, so it could've been anything. Lance just beamed softly, which was a really weird look on his face. Then Lance turned and cordially presented his head towards Hunk, trading the flowers over to him.

Keith absent-mindedly glanced away, then shifted in his place, crossing his legs and supporting his weight on his hands. The shadowed grass was soft on his fingertips, and the night had gotten much cooler. The claustrophobic nature of their little jungle had gotten less stifling, especially with the gentle lighting and sweet scent, and he almost felt at ease.

Some of that ease, though, was attributed to having watch the others enjoying themselves. That was another reason Keith felt like he belonged in space –all of his friends were there: Shiro, Pidge, Hunk… even Allura and Coran. Keith wasn't normally sentimental, but when you had never had a family, never had friends, these people were… Keith shook his head, his bangs falling in front of his face, trying to physically derail that train of thought. It was too early for that sort of thinking. And too late. It was literally never a good time to think about things like that, sentimental, emotional thoughts that made him feel dangerous things.

But still…

"KEITH!"

Keith rapidly glanced up at the shrill sound of his name cutting through the silence, and saw Lance jogging towards him, his sneakers barely making imprints in the soft earth. Was something wrong? What was he doing over here? He was with their friends just a few moments prior.

Lance dropped down on his knees in front of Keith, smiling brightly. Okay, so there wasn't anything wrong. The tension left Keith's body, and he leant back against the tree, partially to put at least a little space between Lance and him. That boy had no concept of personal space whatsoever, as evidenced by the minimal distance between their faces.

Keith gave Lance a flat questioning look, figuring speech wasn't necessary when he was bound to get a clarification no matter what. Lance settled in comfortably, their knees touching. He seemed perfectly content, the weight of all his responsibilities temporarily lifted off his shoulders.

"You didn't think I was gonna leave you out, did you?" Lance said, softly, and Keith didn't respond. He… honestly did think that. He wouldn't have thought twice if Lance had never even glanced in Keith's general direction. "Well, yeah, I mean…" Keith whispered, very intelligently so, at that.

All Keith did was keep looking into his really, really blue eyes, taking in the complete lack of that cockiness that's perpetually present on Lance's face (and never in his heart). As what Keith said sunk in, Lance gave Keith a kind glance that was similar to the look he had given Pidge earlier, perhaps fondness, but different somehow. And…

Keith blinked, jaw probably slack, because, because…

Lance's face was directly in front of his, small, diverse blossoms threaded throughout his hair. The softly cool glow of the white petals that contrasted with his brown hair lit up his face, casting shadows that painted his cheekbones into sharp relief. Were they always that high? Was his chin always so pointed? His angular features made the softness in his smile and eyes all the more apparent.

And his eyes, the ones searching Keith's face, were still really, really blue, but they became richer and deeper from the ambient bio-nightlights that surrounded them. A small petal that had fallen onto his cheek illuminated the smattering of tiny pinprick freckles that covered the bridge of his nose. Keith dimly thought of the multitude of tiny stars in the Texas sky, the stars that looked like they were scattered by the flick of a paintbrush.

Lance's eyebrows were quirked high on his forehead, below his messy bangs, eyes widened and lips parted just so, giving him an innocent expression – an expression Keith knew was reflective of how Lance truly was on the inside, despite his cocky exterior. "Keith, c'mon," Lance said, voice like laughter. "Don't look so panicky, your… pupils? Yeah, they're like pinpricks right now. They're just flowers! I'm makin' everyone pretty tonight, and Shiro's neee-eext,"

And then he reached out, tucking a single probably-a-tulip in Keith's hair. His jacket was off, discarded who knows where, the curve of his wrist leaving a trail of warmth where it brushed Keith's cheek. Keith could feel the heat, and in all probability, redness, racing across the bridge of his nose.

Keith made a choked squeaking noise, a sound he hadn't previously imagined could come out of his own mouth. His heart was racing in a way that was completely distinct from battle-adrenaline or nightmare induced palpitations.

Lance's voice became higher pitched. "Dude, are you okay? What happened?" Lance's eyes were wide as he drew his hand back, and Keith could've sworn they were sparkling. And with a background of glowing trees and flowers and a beautifully alien sky, Keith was silenced by the picture Lance unintentionally painted. He forcefully shut his eyes, diggings his fingers into the soil, trying to clear his mind of the tangled mess of disjointed thoughts racing through it. What was happening? What was happening?

"You guys alright over there?"

Keith opened his eyes at Shiro's voice. Hunk and Pidge were also peering over from their position, no doubt wondering what the commotion was about. Keith couldn't possibly give any of them an explanation, although Lance in particular most certainly deserved one.

"Lance, what happened?" Hunk was calling out after a few moments, concern evident in his voice. There was a beat of silence as Lance leaned back, evaluating Keith's expression with a scrutinizing look.

"I… I think I broke Keith," was the incredulous response.

No argument was provided.

Alright, so.

Keith had never been one for dramatics; communication should have some semblance of directness wherever possible, hardships should be taken with limited complaints – it makes life far simpler for yourself and others.

With that in mind, Keith could most certainly admit when he was in the wrong, when he has made a mistake, or when he was simply a goddamn idiot. But what had happened earlier was an aberration of ridiculous proportions.

The only explanation that sprang to Keith's mind for this decidedly inexplicable occurrence would be that Lance's overly dramatic disposition happened to rub off on Keith for a few moments. It made sense that, after having lived, worked, and fought in close quarters with this boy for upwards of A Very Long Time, they would begin sharing mannerisms to some extent.

Hell, even Pidge seemed to have received Lance's gift for theatrics: she was incensed over the number of bioluminescent plants, wasn't she? And Pidge was known for being no-nonsense; she worked hard, was exceedingly intelligent and quick-witted, and had drive like no one else – it's partially why Shiro liked her so much.

So that's that.

On that front, that is, the front of Keith's Overreaction of Biblical Proportions, there wasn't anything to be exceptionally concerned about.

However.

There was that very small, almost-inconsequential-yet-not-so-inconsequential-as-to-not-merit-some amount-of-internal-discourse Important Matter that begged at least some form of consideration from Keith:

The reason for this overreaction.

Keith, a boy of not even eighteen (though it felt like he had been alive for thirty), came to the realization in that cursed jungle clearing that he was, by all accounts, physically attracted to Lance.

Which was fine. Like he said, almost inconsequential.

He was seventeen, with all the hormonal trappings associated with life at that age; that he had liked boys, for as long as he could remember; that he had lived with Lance, who was actually sometimes successful with the objects of his flirtations (but never knew exactly what to do when he actually didn't strike out for once), which in turn led to the unavoidable fact that Lance was, objectively speaking, an attractive individual, at least to some people.

And, when Keith came to think of it, he honestly understood why he never noticed Lance's attractiveness before. He mostly focused on people's looks in a strictly utilitarian sense, that is to say, he'd take in one's appearance to determine with some amount of accuracy whether they'd be trouble or not.

All throughout his life, or at least, in his adolescent years, Keith didn't have much time or inclination to go after whomever struck his fancy (an exceptionally rare occurrence at that). He had been busy. Busy at the Garrison, focused on being 'the best' pilot he could be, busy studying for whatever tests they gave him to do poorly on, busy reaching up up up in hopes of touching those goddamn stars that always seemed just barely within reach.

But once he found himself among them, after the rush of being thrown into an interstellar war and training and prepping had worn off, day to day life became routine enough to slow down, many days too much. Life in space…life in space was boring. The sensationalist posters had lied.

So, life for Keith, despite all his protestations, had slowed down enough where he could take a look around once in a while, to really take in what, and who, he found himself surrounded by. And then there was that whole thing with living with six other people and becoming closer to them than literally anyone else that he had ever, or will have ever, been around.

But that wasn't something Keith dwelled upon too much.

So the Overreaction of Biblical Proportions effectively summed up to this – Lance's stupid habits rubbed off on Keith; Lance's stupid face did, too. It just took the right lighting, he supposed, to make Keith really realize the extent of Lance's good looks. That's not to say that he would everspeak even a hint of a whisper about this to Lance – purely for Lance's benefit, as Keith didn't think that the modern Narcissus' extraordinary vanity could handle such clear validation. Keith had no intention of fanning the flames of Lance's egotism.

So that's that.

Of course, it was still quite the horse pill, but not as much as it would have been, say, six months prior. Because, for all Keith and Lance's petty arguments, which Keith had half the mind to pin down on simple boredom, they actually had been getting along stunningly. Time and experience had quickly worn Lance's down annoying, pointless competitiveness to something more acceptable, and he had never really been a true asshole at any point. Keith, conversely, was getting his 'rough edges' 'smoothed out' by 'team life'. Once again, Allura was savage (maybe even as much as Pidge was), even by Keith's standards. At least Keith accepted his faults and worked on them, so he wasn't the target of Allura very often.

Bearing all this in mind, Keith wasn't concerned in the least. Nothing would change; this was not going to be a distraction, or a cause for concern by anyone. Just a private thought or two that Keith happened to have regarding the famous Blue Paladin. And, once again, it was just the lighting. Once he saw the famed Blue Paladin snoring on the couch, or in a decidedly unflattering position while making a cramped sniper shot from a long distance, it would be back to the same old Lance.

So, after totally-not-awkwardly speed walking back to the castle as soon as it was acceptable to do so, he worked up a mind-clearing sweat on the training deck. It was the only place Keith could really think clearly – where he wasn't running on pure, tunnel-vision instinct on the battlefield, maneuvering the perils of social interactions, or wandering down the halls of the castle at night, where there is not a soul out there whose thoughts could be perfectly lucid and logical in that uncannily cold environment.

The deck was where he was awake, isolated, and could let his body do the thinking in a safe environment while his mind was free to ponder whatever it was that it cared to, which, tonight, was How In The Hell Did This Happen?, the shitshow he considered earlier. And currently, as he was flicking sweat off of the bridge of his nose, the gladiator having been dispatched not without significant effort on Keith's part, he was feeling pretty good about the whole ordeal, or at least as much as he could be given the situation.

His breathing having evened itself out after the workout, Keith righted himself from his stooped position, retracting his bayard sans flourish. He then called for the lights to be shut off, since he would undoubtedly be the last person to utilize the deck, and made his way out the door and towards the Altean equivalent of a locker room.

Workout, showers, and then lights out – the holy trinity that made up Keith's choice bedtime routine.

A most excellent bookend to a most horrific day.

A few days passed. Keith successfully dodged any prodding questions about what, precisely, had happened on the moon. Lance, surprisingly, didn't ask but once, seeming to specifically avoid prying. Pidge, of course, knew immediately when Keith didn't want to talk about something, so kept any worries she had to herself. So, on the whole, things were fine.

This particular morning started out particularly mundane, everything that Keith could have desired after the events on the moon. However, Keith had always known to hope for the best – a tiring pursuit that only became harder with time – while expecting and preparing for the worst. So, he was wary, but not incredibly so. At least at that time he was still running under the impression that yes, goddammit, it was just causedthe lighting. So he had chilled out about it.

That was what Shiro wanted, right? For Keith to chill out?

Shiro was always right.

So, he did. Chill out, that is. He got out of bed before everyone except Allura, as he always had, and decided to head to the kitchen. Now, normally he wouldn't; he would wait for everyone else to get up (when there wasn't a drill) and amble into the kitchen, so that they could eat breakfast and plan the day's strategies. It's how it always had been, almost like a family tradition.

Today, however, he had gotten up especially early on account of his premature turn-in the previous night; normally he was not asleep so soon, so, naturally, this day he would rise in proportion. Keith had never been good at sleeping. He figured he might as well get a head start on the day.

As Keith rounded the hallway outside the bridge, his eyes were forced to quickly adjust the sunlight –an extraordinary rarity in the vast sectors of nothingness that populated space –that was beaming through the view screen. He realized they were still in the system of that unnamed moon, so the sun happened to be relatively close, which accounted for the startling morning light. He looked out, suddenly feeling wistful.

He closed his eyes and let the vaguely warm light illuminate the blood vessels in his eyelids. It reminded him of waking up to dusty streams of yellow light in the house, of immense, vivid purple and orange skies with streaky clouds, of cool, fresh breezes laced with the scents of unnamed flowers, of morning skies not quite as beautiful as the nights. Of line-dried thin cotton sheets and heavy denim jeans heated into stiffness by the harsh ultraviolet, of the distant mountains cut into sharp relief by the rising dawn, of grayed wooden floors that dearly needed sweeping.

But that was all gone now.

And what was that, even? All that was left of those years past was the rose-tinted memories that still burrowed themselves stubbornly in Keith's mind. While they were memories, they had been distorted beyond recognition by naïve sentimentality that Keith, unfortunately, still harbored within him. They carried no factuality, no realism because the implication of fond memories was that the holder of them was content while living through them.

Keith hadn't been.

What those memories conveniently ignored was how out of place Keith had felt – simple happiness was foreign to him. He consistently felt out of place, off-balance in a world that required you to fit in the mold. So Keith was looking up, looking up, always looking up at those stars, those shining promises of something better, because there was nothing to look around at from where he stood. So he pinned all his hopes and dreams on them, each of them, the light of each and every star that had traveled millions of light years just to visit him.

Keith opened his eyes quickly, fixing his face. Fuck, that train of thought was achieving nothing – why was he being so nostalgic lately, anyway? He had no clue what was triggering this frame of mind. He frowned and continued the short trek to the kitchen, where he was going to grab a quick bite of food goo before heading to the deck to get in his morning pre-training workout. The halls were silent, as was usual around this time, but were warm to mimic the temperature fluctuations of the body during it's circadian rhythm. This system was supposed to slowly increase along with your body temperature as the night progressed, which helped you to be less groggy when you first got up in the morning.

Although Keith always felt immediately alert when he woke, he somehow doubted it was on account of the regulation – it took Pidge forever to wake up in the morning, which she blamed on lack of coffee rather than her habit of staying up so late that she could only squeeze in a few hours of sleep each night. And of course, Lance was in a deeply committed spiritual relationship with his mattress, and had separation anxiety if parted for too long.

"…okay, sure thing, Hunk,"

Speak of the devil. What the hell was the narcoleptic doing up at this ungodly hour?

Keith paused and realized the voice was coming from down the hall… in the kitchen. Of course. Just his luck. He considered skipping eating and just passing by; it was too early to be sociable, and Keith was honestly just a bit wary about Lance ever since that day on the moon. He was still chill about it, but he couldn't help the nervousness. However, he was genuinely curious as to what they were doing up so early. He figured he could maybe just grab a glass of water and then book it.

Lance looked up first as Keith rounded the corner to enter. He and Hunk were hovering over some small, empty silver bags laid out on the countertop, and Hunk had a strange, oven-like contraption that he was hunched over and fiddling with. There were piles of strange-looking fruit to Hunk's right. Where did they even get those?

"Hey, man!" Lance beamed, all upbeat cheeriness and huge grins. Hunk glanced up then, too, straightening with a wave.

"Hey," Keith returned, awkwardly standing at the doorjamb. He tried again. "What are you guys doing?"

"Well," Hunk started, gesturing with a flat-blade screwdriver. "I don't know if you saw, but on the way back from the quintessence plant area Allura picked up a bunch of this really awesome fruit from near where we had landed the castle," He leaned down again, tightening some screws on the squat machine that reminded Keith of a toaster oven. "And Pidge, just out of curiosity, scanned them after examining the quintessence plants, which, by the way, are gonna work great,"

"Yeah!" Lance chimed in, hopping up on the counter and letting his legs freely dangle. "Coran's pumped,"

Keith knew one of Hunk's long stories when he heard one, so he walked over to the sink, grabbing a clear glass and filling it with water. He turned, leaning against the counter opposite Lance and settling in.

"Well, anyway," Hunk said, without even having looked at Keith for how intently he was fidgeting with the toaster oven, "Turns out these are just loaded with quintessence, just like the plants are. It must be like, the moon's soil? Or something?" Hunk turned to give Lance a questioning look, but Lance just shrugged, as if to say 'why you lookin' at me?'. Hunk shook his head slightly, probably at the foolishness of his asking Lance for scientific information. He may as well have asked Keith.

"So, yeah," Lance cut in. "They're just loaded with energy that people can use, too, almost like being super calorie dense. So, we're gonna dry em' out and make survival rations,"

"Hm," Keith said noncommittally, taking a sip of the water. He supposed the machine was a dehydrator, then.

"And I don't know about you all," Hunk said, turning around and holding up a purpleish, spiky not-pear, "But I seriously wish we didn't have to. We may never get to eat them! I said they were delicious, and I meant it – I really miss fruit with breakfast,"

"Oh my god, I know right? I feel the loss of mangoes in the morning the hardest. It's tragic," Lance said, hand on his face in exaggerated horror. Hunk nodded sagely and Keith almost had to stifle a laugh – who could get so worked up over food? It was consistently the last thing on Keith's mind, but he knew Hunk and Lance to clear out an alien buffet in no time. He glanced at Lance's gently swinging legs, idly wondering how Lance could maintain his rangy form with his appetite. Surely, he couldn't still be growing? No, they were too old for that.

"But, wait, picture this," Hunk said, completely distracted from his task, screwdriver in one hand and not-pear in the other. "Mango salsa with chicken, just a hint of cilantro…" he said, closing his eyes to better visualize his dish.

"Or my mom's vaca frita," Lance dreamily said, before looking in front of him at Keith. "What about you, Keith? What do you miss most?"

Keith blinked. Lance had worded the question as if it were a given that Keith had some favorite food, but he wasn't really particularly fond of any dish; as he said, food was never something he thought about, let alone daydreamed of.

"Uh, I guess I don't really have a favorite? I pretty much only eat because I have to."

Lance blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Hunk looked personally affronted, his hand on his chest.

"C'mon, man, you gotta have something," Lance said, as if Keith casually mentioned he didn't have a navel, or lived without a kidney.

Keith was about to shake his head, but then…

It had been a few days after Keith had been kicked out of the Garrison, that terrible time when he was aimless, completely alone, completely lost. He had his shack set up perfectly fine by then, was able to stay warm in the frigid, windy desert nights within the confines of the old, barren wood. Unfortunately, warmth hadn't helped the intense gnawing in his stomach; as always, food hadn't been a priority and Keith was made to suffer for it. In that long, lonesome night, all Keith had to focus on was the sudden emptiness in his life, the threadbare blanket wrapped around him, the ghosts swirling in the depths of his mind. The growling of his stomach served as an excellent distraction, grounding him even in the quietude and solemnity of the desert nights.

That sensation that neared pain anchored him, protecting him from those horrible ghosts. Instead, he could think of those mediocre Garrison lunches in the rigid metal trays, those lunches that, in his sorry state, he found a new appreciation for. He thought of warm peas and carrots in their little compartment, of highly processed and distinctly unappetizing generic proteins.

"Well…" Keith started slowly. He didn't want to… alienate them, since they were already looking at him like he was a different person. They weren't this worried when they found out that he was part Galra. "I know for sure I don't like meat that much?" Keith tried.

Lance had twenty different emotions flashing on his face. Hunk, on the other hand, looked like he was about to cry.

Perhaps, in some small way, this was the absolute wrong thing to say.

Keith downed his glass of water, deciding right then and there that it would only be in his best interest to hightail it.

"I'm gonna… go," Keith said to no one in particular, turning to put the glass in the silver (to match the castle's décor, at Allura's behest) alien dishwasher that they picked up from some space department store. They had all thought it to be too big when they inspected it at the store, but Lance had squatted down level with it, eyed it for a second, then said with all the confidence in the world that it would fit between the fridge and the counter. It did.

"What! No!" Lance whined, leaping off the counter with a thud. He stepped around Hunk, then leaned onto the countertop next to Keith, his forearms parallel with each other. Keith looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Don't worry, dude, we're not gonna ostracize you for being vegetarian,"

"Ostracize? Big word," Keith snarked.

"I read!" Lance protested, his pitch rising along with his posture.

"Besides, Keith never said he was totally vegetarian," Hunk supplied helpfully from behind them, apparently over his episode.

"Yeah," Keith agreed, straightening and turning to mirror Lance. He wasn't vegetarian; you really couldn't be in the Texan households Keith grew up in. Meals typically had meat as the focal point, which is why Keith loved his packed elementary school lunches; they were often sandwiches, and so he could throw away the meat and just eat the thin brown bread. Maybe he would've grown a bit taller if he hadn't avoided his protein, but it was a fair tradeoff in his book. Not to mention the military-subsidized white bread from the Garrison that Keith had learned to tolerate.

"I guess…" Keith started. "I guess bread's okay,"

He figured that wasn't a lie; bread was very inoffensive and filling, so it was great for when you just wanted to eat something quickly to avoid hunger.

Lance nodded at this, taking it in, but Hunk had a goddamn fit.

"Oh, my god, Keith, that's genius. There are so many different types of bread out there, and they're all so good! Irish soda bread, banana nut… Oh man, my mom's homemade bread is just-" he didn't finish his statement, instead making a soft, choked noise and quasi-pained gestures that probably meant something to someone.

Lance looked at him, unimpressed, but Keith smiled just a bit, happy his choice was validated. Hunk would know what good food is.

"Well," Lance said after a beat, smiling at Keith in that peculiar way of his, "That does seem like a good choice, I guess. Oh, hey, here," Lance said with a start. He reached over to grab a not-banana (it was curled way too much to be an Earth banana, not to mention the gray-green color of the peel), then pushed it into Keith hands. Keith looked down at it, then back up at Lance.

"I'm guessing you're heading to the training deck?" He said with a tone that Keith wasn't sure meant he expected Keith to go and didn't care, or that he was generically discontent. Keith nodded halfway.

"Then you'll need to get some food in you," he said, watching Keith, "whether you like it or not. Water won't keep you running,"

This seemed more like something Hunk would do.

Keith didn't know what to say, something that had been happening a worrisome amount lately, except a simple thanks. Then he backed up slightly, still watching Lance's expression, until he turned to head out the door. As he was walking, he heard Hunk laugh.

"Dude, you're really not one to talk, I've known you to go without eating a day before a date just to lose some water weight,"

"Oh my God, Hunk, shut it!" Lance hissed, the embarrassment in the tone obvious even to Keith. He chuckled, then paused for a second just around the corner. He glanced at the fruit in his hand, then looked up towards the long hallway that led to the deck. For some reason it seemed desolate, maybe even cold despite the elevated temperature.

And as he heard Lance's laughter from behind him, he thought that he may not want to go. The feeling confused him, but not so much that he didn't find himself turning around and poking his head into the kitchen. Not too far, but close enough to gauge their reactions. Next to a chuckling Hunk he saw… he saw Lance still laughing loudly at something, his grin stretched across his face, sparkling tears shining in the early morning sun-like lights. His cheeks and the bridge of his nose were red, giving him a lively appearance, and he was bent double, his thin hand clutching his stomach. He was the image of perfect, unrestrained mirth in the soft yellow light, and it was probably over the dumbest thing in the world, like a pun or something.

"Do you need some help or anything?"

The words flew out of Keith's mouth unbidden, even as he was making a move to retreat, even as his mind buzzed over nothing, over everything. It was so sudden, but… he felt so purely affected by the sight of Lance's joy, felt like his heart was a bit lighter to see just one person in this hellish universe so clear of any sadness or doubt, if only for one second. Even if it may have only been a brief reprieve for that person from their crippling doubts and fears.

It was so, so selfish, but he wanted to see more of it. It made him feel at ease, or that, just maybe, this universe was worth saving after all, even if that line of reasoning was completely antithetical to their mission. It responded to the question of: Was it okay to fight just for the ones you have come to know as the only people you trulycared about in the whole galaxy? Keith had other reasons, other self-serving motivations for fighting so hard in the war. But his friends were first on that list.

And as he looked up at Lance, not so much seeing as feeling the content, appreciative look he was giving Keith, Keith knew what the answer to his question was.

Okay…

So…

Maybe it wasn't just the lighting.

Maybe.

Keith pushed around the food goo on his plate, the soft white bandage on his index finger rubbing against the silver of the spoon. He had gotten the injury while helping Hunk and Lance make the rations. Initially, they had an assembly line of Keith cubing the fruit, then sliding it over to Lance, who would place it in a sealable silver pack and label it. The pack would be handed to Hunk to be thrown in the dehydrator for five minutes, the majority of the moisture being swiftly removed and the pack being vacuum-sealed.

However, when Keith proved to be absolute shit at delicately scoring small objects and ended up cutting the end of his finger, Lance and Keith switched tasks. Growing up the middle child in his 'big-assed family' meant Lance had to help prepare meals frequently, so naturally he would be handy with kitchen cutlery. He went on to talk about a number of incidents that happened over the years in his family's kitchen or at the dining table, or at neighborhood potlucks Lance's family hosted. Keith got the impression that Lance's family spent a lot of time eating with each other, and that he thought fondly of those memories (if you went by the warm look on his face when he talked about it).

Keith had also learned some things he didn't know about Hunk while they were working the assembly line. Apparently, he and Lance were neighbors; he had two moms who owned a flower shop, which led to Hunk talking about how he gathered some of the flowers from the moon, putting them in a cryo-storage container to bring home to them. He hoped that they would still glow if they were kept properly. One of his moms came from a line of bakers, which is where Hunk got his skills from; his mom's dishes were always a hit at the neighborhood potlucks.

He felt strangely content while listening to Hunk and Lance's stories; he used to feel incredibly left out whenever Hunk and Lance (and sometimes even Pidge) would start recounting to the others something that had happened at the Garrison, laughing and interrupting each other in an attempt to convey the 'definitive' version of the story. He realized how foolish this was, how it bordered on jealousy and wasn't doing him any favors. It didn't stop it from happening.

It almost reminded him of his Garrison days, when his role as 'star pilot' was facilitated by his keen instincts and quick reflexes, the skills that had so often been lauded by his instructors and envied by his classmates, the skills that had perpetually put an invisible yet seemingly-impenetrable wall between him and everyone else. People either felt intimidated by Keith or hated his guts, and Keith's subpar social skills did nothing to help this fact. Here among his team, his feeling of isolation wasn't real as it was at the Garrison; he had a definite role and, over time, a very real sense of belonging.

As time progressed and he got closer to the trio and could perhaps even call them his friends, as they began to share experiences together, that feeling – that alienation from the other paladins – all but went away. He was really a part of something here.

Keith looked at his bandage and smiled slightly to himself.

"Thanks for getting up early, Hunk, Lance, to make the emergency rations," Keith looked up to what Shiro was currently saying from his place at the table. "No prob, Shiro," Lance responded from beside Keith.

"Keith helped, too," Lance said, jerking a thumb in his direction.

"Oh, that's great. Thanks, Keith," Shiro added, looking at him with a smile. Keith nodded. He didn't really feel the need to be thanked, he was just doing his part. Sort of.

Pidge, forever the last to breakfast, entered just then, groggily making her way to her chair across from Keith. Hunk had already made her place setting ahead of time, fully aware of her morning habits. He had also pre-made a cup of some strange, grain-based drink for her. It was supposedly a coffee replacement, but everyone knew it was a poor substitute and only Pidge and Shiro were desperate enough to drink it on a regular basis. She silently sat down, immediately taking a drink, the steam obscuring bleary eyes that slowly blinked behind fogged glasses.

As soon as she sat the cup down, Shiro piped up from his place near Allura.

"Now that everyone is here," he started with consideration, "As you all know, we're still in the plant moon's solar system. Although we initially stayed put just in case we needed more quintessence plant samples, we've decided to remain longer because of the system's out of the way location,"

Allura nodded in agreement, hands clasped in front of her. "Since we will not have to worry as much about any Galra ships finding us, this will be a most excellent time for Shiro, Coran and I to plan the next leg of our diplomatic tour. We're going to be attempting relations with quite a few important planets, so we need to start contacting ambassadors and re-establishing connections,"

"Altea was a friend of many in the old days! We should certainly be able to continue that tradition," Coran added from near the end of the table.

None of the younger paladins said anything, perhaps wondering where their elders were going with this. Shiro seemed to sense the need for clarification.

"I'm going to be really busy with this, so I'm not going to be able to train with you guys for the next week or so,"

At this, Pidge subtly straightened up, her eyes suddenly clear of any traces of remaining sleepiness. She seemed to have a slight smile on her face, like her entire day was made with just that one single sentence. Keith knew she hated training; she would escape to her lab or even to common area as soon as feasible. She was fully aware that she had a disadvantage when it came to hand-to-hand combat, but she apparently had enough confidence in her alternative, technological methods of battle to not care about devoting an extreme amount of attention to it.

"So does this mean no training for a while?" Hunk's voice had a hopeful quality to it, seemingly mirroring Pidge's train of thought.

Allura shook her head. "Of course not. Defenders of the universe must consistently keep in prime shape. Even a few days of slacking can be detrimental to your performance,"

Pidge slumped again sullenly.

"So, it's going to be training solo-style for a bit. Everyone on board with that?" Shiro said with all the politeness in the world, as if any of them really had a say in it. It was clear, however, what the answer Shiro expected was.

"I think we got it," Lance spoke up for all of them, although he didn't seem particularly affected by the announcement one way or another.

Shiro nodded, satisfied.

After that, the normal flow of conversation resumed, although Keith remained silent, still thinking about that morning. He supposed he was brooding, as Lance might put it.

"What happened to your finger?"

Keith glanced up in front of him, where Pidge was looking at his bandage with mild interest. Keith automatically touched it with his other hand, that strange subconscious gesture that everyone exhibited at some time or another.

"Cut myself earlier," he said, shrugging.

"Yeah," Lance butt in from beside him, leaning forward on an elbow to address Pidge, never considerate of Keith's personal space. "Turns out the one place I'm actually better with a knife than Keith is in the kitchen," he said with that stupid smirk of his. Keith rolled his eyes, too distracted to come up with a good response at the moment. Pidge raised an eyebrow, perhaps at Keith's silence, perhaps at Lance's general dumbassery, but evidently accepted the response she received.

Keith glanced at Lance, who was inspecting him, out of the corner of his eye.

When he had sliced his finger, Keith insisted it wasn't a big deal, and it wasn't. Did no one know how many times Keith had gotten cut, stabbed, scraped, burned, even before he hurtled out into the depths of space? The desert is a sharp, burny, scratchy place. Lance would have a fucking fit if he had to live out there – Keith could only imagine the plentiful complaints about parched, cracked skin and distinct lack of those weird, slimy lotion products Lance was so fond of.

But, still, not a big deal. Of course, Hunk made a big deal out of the injury, fussing over Keith per the usual, and then Lance insisted on taking his ass to the infirmary to get it wrapped up.

"Can't have ya leaking your gross blood all over our rations, Keith," he had said as he near literally dragged Keith down the hall. His tone spoke of long-suffering irritation, but the gentleness in the way he (completely unnecessarily, Keith could do it himself) applied the antibacterial cream and wrapped the bandage up around Keith's finger said otherwise. Keith knew Lance was a naturally caring person when he wasn't being a pseudo-dick, but it still didn't explain the completely ridiculous, frivolous fluttering in Keith's stomach. While Lance had stood not six inches in front of him, intently focused on his task and completely oblivious to the suffering boy in front of him, Keith was getting serious flashbacks to the day on the plant moon. Did Lance have no concept of personal space? Why did his entire look change when he was actually serious for once?

Why the fuck?

Why the fuck?

Fine! Keith got it! Lance was one hot son of a bitch. So what? Couldn't Keith focus on something else whenever he was within even the general vicinity of said bastard?

So, yeah, Keith was brooding over breakfast. Probably why Lance was giving him that weird look right then, but why wouldn't Lance be used to it by now? After a second that felt like a minute to Keith, Lance went back to his breakfast as if nothing had happened.

And nothing had happened. Just a paladin looking out for a paladin.

Probably?

Keith looked back down at his breakfast, too.

Okay, so.

The night of the plant-moon fiasco, all those days ago, Keith had decided it was okay if he thought Lance was attractive. And it's still fine, fine, still perfectly fine. Totally normal. It made things a bit harder, was maybe even a slight distraction during day-to-day life, but other than that it was, like he said, fine, fine, perfectly fine. He didn't know why he was getting so worked up over this, didn't know why it was so easy to focus on Lance's long legs, or his smile that would light up a room (however clichéd that may be).

It was just… hard not to. Now, anyway.

When Keith had first met Lance, ten weeks, ten months, ten hundred years ago, Keith was focused on nothing except Shiro, that one rock he had found in the swirling vortex that was his life, the only thing that really mattered to him. Lance had known Keith by name, but Keith… Keith couldn't have pointed out the Lance McClain in a line of two. Keith, even if he had wanted to, could never get close to anyone at the Garrison, and so the souls surrounding him became a blur, a generic patchwork of faces with names attached to them. Names Keith never cared to learn. There was only Shiro, his mentor, the vaunted idol of every aspiring pilot in the academy. His was a face you never forgot, a presence you noticed before every other in the room. Between Shiro and Iverson, only one truly commanded the respect of a room.

So, Keith can be excused for not recognizing Lance, however much that probably bruised Lance's tenuous ego. Especially when you consider that, after many months of living with him, Keith finally remembered Lance From The Galaxy Garrison, who was neck and neck with Keith, who probably passed him in the sterile, industrial halls a thousand times, who took his spot after he was expelled.

They had been sitting in the common area today. Which was normal in itself. Pidge was making some obscene joke, another common occurrence – she had no shame and a very dirty mind. To Keith's immense surprise, Lance laughed like hell at this. It was a rarity when Pidge's and Lance's senses of humor overlapped, but apparently sex jokes just happened to be the center of this particular Venn diagram.

However.

However.

Pidge's one-liner was forgotten when Keith rode a wild wave of déjà vu. It had finally, finally clicked in the worst possible fashion, left him stilled at the unexpected flash of the memory in his mind's eye. Keith had heard that laugh before, heard it penetrate through the cacophony of the mess hall one particularly lonely day.

When Keith had heard it the first time, it had pulled a completely involuntary laugh out of him. It was automatic to laugh, too, when you heard it. It was compelling, joyful, contagious. Keith had wondered just who it had belonged to, had taken a glance around, wondering who would pull this response from him. Wondered how it raised his spirits, wondered if he'd ever hear it again.

He had wanted to. Then today, he had. It was almost scary, in a twisted way, to know that Lance was the owner of that compelling laugh, the one that made him sound like he was dying for breath, like he was laughing for the entire damn world.

It had taken a surprising amount of will power to act normal given this revelation– Keith's reasoning, however, was two-fold.

First. He was not going to admit to that chicken shit that yes, Lance, I remember your ass, especially after all this time. It would give him far too much satisfaction for Keith to deal with effectively.

Second. He was not going to admit to himself that said chicken shit's laugh gave him a very real, very warm feeling in his chest, because that would be like admitting defeat, like letting your enemy push your front line farther back, like asking your executioner to move up the date of your neck's appointment with the old axe.

So, this all led to the unavoidable conclusion that Keith was having a very hard time keeping his… crush purely superficial. No, he wasn't just admiring Lance's looks, now he was coming to appreciate every stupid little trait that made Lance Lance. It was horrific.

Keith had never had feelings for someone before. Had never been friends with someone before, unless you counted Shiro.

Was it possible to go, so incredibly quickly, from having a dumbass, superficial crush on someone to actually, truly liking them?

It didn't really matter what the answer was.

It was about to happen anyway.