I should feel relieved, right? [Keith doesn't specify what he's talking about, not at first. Though it probably wouldn't take much to guess. Shiro's here. That should be a good thing. And he doesn't have to pilot Black. That's another good thing.]
I tried to give up Black to Shiro right away. Guess at least that finally worked out. [There is nothing that denotes how he gets to these thoughts, but ... Lance's words are what trigger it. Any closer to where you wanna be.
[ The weight of Keith's sadness comes down on them all at once, like a cloak. ]
Feelings aren't a 'should' kinda thing. [ His hands slide from Keith's neck to his shoulders, and he's glad they're already so close because it's easy to pull Keith into a hug. ]
Keith. It's gonna be okay. [ You're gonna be okay. ]
[Keith is the type of person to lean into a hug, to take a moment to inhale and appreciate the comfort. He's not great at giving comfort, but he doesn't turn away from receiving it. Sometimes. Most of the time. Everything in his head is just—so mixed up. And he's keeping the Bayard away from Shiro, he's making all of this difficult, all because he's just ... angry about his future, and upset about the fact that he just keeps doing the same thing.
For all the big talk that Loki has about change, Keith never seems to be able to pull it off himself.
He swallows as he pulls out of the hug, turning his face away from Lance's on purpose. That slight gesture shows that he's very aware of that weird situation still.]
I'll try to be more careful. [Well ...] As careful as I can be here. Before ALASTAIR ended, I got a lot of stuff for a mission like this. Stealth gear. And ... a Blade of Marmora suit. I thought having one of those might help. And it was the colors that Audentes had. [He's going on about this because he's trying to normalize things. Like this is normal. Like he didn't just have a hug when he needed it from Lance, who is technically his ex but not because of weird reality stuff.]
[ Keith is so close. Lance can feel the warmth from him, smell the acrid city scent that clings to his clothes. He lets himself linger in that space, getting acquainted with it, until Keith pulls away. When Keith turns away, Lance abruptly becomes aware that Keith himself is uncomfortable, and pulls away completely. This close, he can see the sharp line of Keith's jaw, count the freckles on his nose that have yet to fade from the camping in Hanabira. He can see the bob of Keith's throat on each intake of breath.
Focus. "Oddentees"? Oh, right. ]
I'm not expecting you to stay safe all the time. We're not here for that, you already told me off for it, remember? [ He smiles softly, leaning back in his seat. ] But you decided to get your butt handed to you, this time.
[ Isn't it their second time having this conversation in less than four months? ]
[There's something about having Lance worry about him that just feels—well. It feels the way that Keith wishes it didn't feel. Part of pretending nothing ever happened with Lance was supposed to include him just not having feelings for Lance anymore. Guess it'd be too convenient. Not that he hadn't known they were still there. He was just ... acknowledging them. Mentally. At the moment. To himself.
Keith's fingers raise to brush over his neck. The tenderness is still there, but the ache through it is less of a problem.]
This wasn't like it usually is. A lot's happened. It isn't just about the news from home. Ever since Rey went home, she's been—different. I guess. Coming back here made her realize that all she had left really was me. That I'm why she stayed. It's just—it's not why I stayed. You know why I stayed.
[That doesn't explain anything. He adds:]
She's been lying to me. A lot. I'm not sure we'll be who we were before. [Keith didn't feel like he'd ever know the truth.]
[ It dawns on Lance that Keith is struggling with what might likely be the first friendship he's ever organically forged by himself. There's really no helping here; all Lance can offer is sympathy. ]
Man, that's rough coming from a good friend. I'm sorry, Keith. Do you wanna...talk about it?
I guess. Maybe. I don't know. What do you even say? I've talked about it a lot with Loki. [None of that is an answer in any way, and he realizes that. Having to be decisive about this isn't all that easy.]
I know where things stand now. But that doesn't make it any better. You know? [Keith mostly adds these words to say them, to get them out there and express them. Which is progress. He can't bottle things up forever, and no matter what time passes, it doesn't seem to be the ticket to making things better with Rey.]
[ While Lance never really had the kind of intense, ride-or-die friendship Keith had with Rey before Voltron happened, he's always been a sociable extrovert. He's made and lost his fair share of friends. ]
Yeah. Wish I could tell you it gets better, but...betrayal is pretty much the worst. [ He shrugs, reaching out one hand to clasp Keith's shoulder. ] Look at it this way: she brought you a lot of good. A friendship like that is worth experiencing, even if you can't always make it last as long as you want.
You almost make it sound like she's gone. Or that she's dead. She's still here. She hasn't gone anywhere. [No matter what, Keith feels like he's navigating a situation with her where neither of them know what to do about it.]
Not ... that I don't get what you mean ... We're still friends. It's just. [Keith shrugs, as if that continues his thought perfectly.]
You're grieving either way, man. And... [ Suddenly deeply self-conscious, he runs his hand through his hair. His eyes dart away, though despite himself a stripe of pink runs over the bridge of his nose. ] You can count on me anytime. We're friends, right?
[ Right? ]
You wanna grab something to, uh, drink while you're here? Could be good for your throat.
I've had alcohol before. [That is not at all what Lance asked, but it's a way of saying something to buy time. Keith turns away from him, trying to sort out his thoughts. Once upon a time he wouldn't have taken this to mean anything, but that also destroyed his previous relationship with Lance.
And now he ... doesn't ... want it to be weird, but he can't decide which is the right way to go.]
Lance ... [Ugh. He feels like he's been messing up a lot lately.] What does this mean? Uh. Having drinks. Here. Together. [He asks the question without looking at him, like he's trying to get his wires straight.]
[ It's his turn to duck his head, uncertain. He doesn't know what he wants. Out of this in general and Keith in particular. ]
Did you really mean it, when you told me that--back when we were fighting--that it didn't matter if I liked guys or not, because we weren't gonna date again anyway?
[ He still remembers that. And he can't look at Keith when he asks the question. ]
I guess ... I thought it'd be safer to assume it was done. Now I don't really know. I'm still not really good at this. [As if he's dismissing his need to ask, to see why he was feeling like this situation wasn't just two people being friends.]
But if you're not—you know—then why are you asking?
[ Lance looks back to Keith when he hears the word 'safer', wondering if this whole time he'd taken for attack what was meant to be defense. ]
Well, I mean. I am. [ He flushes again. ] I still like girls! Just. I haven't stopped thinking about it since you mentioned it. About...you. [ More quietly: ] About us. What it'd be like.
[ He drums his fingers against the edge of the bar, stomach clenched from nerves, feeling doubly exposed. ]
You always liked girls. [Like that doesn't change anything to Keith, who doesn't see that as a sticking point. But if he isn't into boys, then what does it matter? Again: that isn't something that Keith has thought too hard about. It's not something he can help with.
He frowns, debating what to say here.]
I made it sound like it was all bad. You—he—whenever he'd make me mad, and I made it clear he messed up, he used to give me cards. It turned into a thing he did, so I'd have something to remember him by. I still have them. In my room somewhere.
[A beat.]
I still like you. It's just—confusing. When I got back and we had gotten better together at home, it felt like a slap in the face.
[ Keith sounds dismissive at first, which strikes Lance in a delicate place he'd never really touched on before; it hurts, until Keith keeps talking and it dawns on Lance that no, he isn't being shut down. The opposite.
I still like you, Keith says, and his heart hammers away tellingly. ]
I think we've pretty much established that you both messed up, though I gotta say...cards sounds like me, alright. [ And if their conflict-resolution strategy was letter-writing, isn't that already a red flag? Sweet as it is... ] But Keith, I--I don't wanna hurt you more.
What I mean is—back home, we figured each other out. But we hadn't here. And I never had a chance. Honestly ... before, I wouldn't have even asked why you were gonna get me a drink. I would've just—it might have flown over my head. [Keith and that minuscule self-awareness, but it's not like it's a new thing. He's been aware of it for some time.]
I haven't suddenly gotten good at dating. At making someone feel ... cared for, I guess. I don't want you to be hurt because of it.
[ His throat feels tight. He hadn't expected--this. Hadn't expect Keith to open up this much. The moment feels vulnerable, even sitting here in an empty hotel bar. ]
Nobody's perfect at dating, Keith. We just...get better at dating each other.
[ Mutually not wanting to hurt each other is a good start, right? He lets his hand slide forward along the bar counter until it rests halfway between them--wondering if maybe Keith will pick up the physical cue before the verbal one. ]
[Keith's eyes widen at the extension of the hand, and he beats down the need to dismiss it, to act like it's not there. He might have before. Or maybe he would've waited for Lance to be more verbally obvious.
The reality is that in pretending it hadn't happened, he wanted to get rid of the hurt. He felt like an idiot. He couldn't communicate how it was that he wasn't ready, just that he wasn't. Navigating other people is hard.
He just ... honestly feels like Lance gets it. At least a little more. It's not something that needs to be assumed—it just is. It's out there. He needs help, and he's willing to put everything into something to make it work, whether it's friendship, or a mission, or a path he's been forced on (and forced off).
So—Keith's hand comes to cover Lance's, a little awkwardly, but fingers crossing fingers, before he squeezes Lance's hand.
There's a moment where Keith is thinking that he has to say something, but the words don't come. Probably because he's said enough already.]
[ Keith meets him halfway. It feels like that's been the theme since Lance got here, which--positive, right? He runs his thumb over Keith's knuckles, feeling a fizzy, elated feeling overtake him. He's practically giddy from the sharp release of nerves. ]
So. How about that drink, handsome?
[ He definitely just winked...but lets out a self-aware puff of laughter a moment later. ]
[There's a little bit of unspoken relief here, not at the touching of hands or anything like that, but the fact that Lance quickly reverts to some rather ... Lance-like mannerisms. Lance (before) hadn't felt comfortable doing that with Keith. It had been ... one of many bullet points on the list of things for Keith.
It is also one of the things that will likely annoy Keith the most before long. He has layers. Like an onion.]
Lance ... [Drawn out, just a tad.] Yeah, let's get a drink.
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I tried to give up Black to Shiro right away. Guess at least that finally worked out. [There is nothing that denotes how he gets to these thoughts, but ... Lance's words are what trigger it. Any closer to where you wanna be.
Where does he wanna be?
He doesn't know anymore.]
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Feelings aren't a 'should' kinda thing. [ His hands slide from Keith's neck to his shoulders, and he's glad they're already so close because it's easy to pull Keith into a hug. ]
Keith. It's gonna be okay. [ You're gonna be okay. ]
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For all the big talk that Loki has about change, Keith never seems to be able to pull it off himself.
He swallows as he pulls out of the hug, turning his face away from Lance's on purpose. That slight gesture shows that he's very aware of that weird situation still.]
I'll try to be more careful. [Well ...] As careful as I can be here. Before ALASTAIR ended, I got a lot of stuff for a mission like this. Stealth gear. And ... a Blade of Marmora suit. I thought having one of those might help. And it was the colors that Audentes had. [He's going on about this because he's trying to normalize things. Like this is normal. Like he didn't just have a hug when he needed it from Lance, who is technically his ex but not because of weird reality stuff.]
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Focus. "Oddentees"? Oh, right. ]
I'm not expecting you to stay safe all the time. We're not here for that, you already told me off for it, remember? [ He smiles softly, leaning back in his seat. ] But you decided to get your butt handed to you, this time.
[ Isn't it their second time having this conversation in less than four months? ]
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Keith's fingers raise to brush over his neck. The tenderness is still there, but the ache through it is less of a problem.]
This wasn't like it usually is. A lot's happened. It isn't just about the news from home. Ever since Rey went home, she's been—different. I guess. Coming back here made her realize that all she had left really was me. That I'm why she stayed. It's just—it's not why I stayed. You know why I stayed.
[That doesn't explain anything. He adds:]
She's been lying to me. A lot. I'm not sure we'll be who we were before. [Keith didn't feel like he'd ever know the truth.]
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Man, that's rough coming from a good friend. I'm sorry, Keith. Do you wanna...talk about it?
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I know where things stand now. But that doesn't make it any better. You know? [Keith mostly adds these words to say them, to get them out there and express them. Which is progress. He can't bottle things up forever, and no matter what time passes, it doesn't seem to be the ticket to making things better with Rey.]
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Yeah. Wish I could tell you it gets better, but...betrayal is pretty much the worst. [ He shrugs, reaching out one hand to clasp Keith's shoulder. ] Look at it this way: she brought you a lot of good. A friendship like that is worth experiencing, even if you can't always make it last as long as you want.
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Not ... that I don't get what you mean ... We're still friends. It's just. [Keith shrugs, as if that continues his thought perfectly.]
Anyway. Thanks for coming out. To uh. Help me.
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You're grieving either way, man. And... [ Suddenly deeply self-conscious, he runs his hand through his hair. His eyes dart away, though despite himself a stripe of pink runs over the bridge of his nose. ] You can count on me anytime. We're friends, right?
[ Right? ]
You wanna grab something to, uh, drink while you're here? Could be good for your throat.
[ Right?? ]
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[It's as if Lance activated the most awkward mode of Keith suddenly, and the latter has now slipped into it completely.]
You should get something, too. Since you're here.
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Right, uh. Um. [ How does this usually go?? In movies???? ]
Do you usually...drink...stuff? Alcohol? [ A beat. ] Are you gonna have alcohol?
[ #nailedit ]
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And now he ... doesn't ... want it to be weird, but he can't decide which is the right way to go.]
Lance ... [Ugh. He feels like he's been messing up a lot lately.] What does this mean? Uh. Having drinks. Here. Together. [He asks the question without looking at him, like he's trying to get his wires straight.]
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I don't--it. I.
[ It's his turn to duck his head, uncertain. He doesn't know what he wants. Out of this in general and Keith in particular. ]
Did you really mean it, when you told me that--back when we were fighting--that it didn't matter if I liked guys or not, because we weren't gonna date again anyway?
[ He still remembers that. And he can't look at Keith when he asks the question. ]
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But if you're not—you know—then why are you asking?
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Well, I mean. I am. [ He flushes again. ] I still like girls! Just. I haven't stopped thinking about it since you mentioned it. About...you. [ More quietly: ] About us. What it'd be like.
[ He drums his fingers against the edge of the bar, stomach clenched from nerves, feeling doubly exposed. ]
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He frowns, debating what to say here.]
I made it sound like it was all bad. You—he—whenever he'd make me mad, and I made it clear he messed up, he used to give me cards. It turned into a thing he did, so I'd have something to remember him by. I still have them. In my room somewhere.
[A beat.]
I still like you. It's just—confusing. When I got back and we had gotten better together at home, it felt like a slap in the face.
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I still like you, Keith says, and his heart hammers away tellingly. ]
I think we've pretty much established that you both messed up, though I gotta say...cards sounds like me, alright. [ And if their conflict-resolution strategy was letter-writing, isn't that already a red flag? Sweet as it is... ] But Keith, I--I don't wanna hurt you more.
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I haven't suddenly gotten good at dating. At making someone feel ... cared for, I guess. I don't want you to be hurt because of it.
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Nobody's perfect at dating, Keith. We just...get better at dating each other.
[ Mutually not wanting to hurt each other is a good start, right? He lets his hand slide forward along the bar counter until it rests halfway between them--wondering if maybe Keith will pick up the physical cue before the verbal one. ]
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The reality is that in pretending it hadn't happened, he wanted to get rid of the hurt. He felt like an idiot. He couldn't communicate how it was that he wasn't ready, just that he wasn't. Navigating other people is hard.
He just ... honestly feels like Lance gets it. At least a little more. It's not something that needs to be assumed—it just is. It's out there. He needs help, and he's willing to put everything into something to make it work, whether it's friendship, or a mission, or a path he's been forced on (and forced off).
So—Keith's hand comes to cover Lance's, a little awkwardly, but fingers crossing fingers, before he squeezes Lance's hand.
There's a moment where Keith is thinking that he has to say something, but the words don't come. Probably because he's said enough already.]
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So. How about that drink, handsome?
[ He definitely just winked...but lets out a self-aware puff of laughter a moment later. ]
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It is also one of the things that will likely annoy Keith the most before long. He has layers. Like an onion.]
Lance ... [Drawn out, just a tad.] Yeah, let's get a drink.