Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first thing Lance is conscious of when he comes back to his body is Keith. A constant, the one unwavering pillar throughout the past decade. (Okay, rebuke that, one of the unwavering pillars throughout the last decade. The only pillar to know him inside and out—okay yeah. This is where he should stop this thought.)

Point is, after being stuck in the back of his consciousness for a week while the past version of himself took over his body (and subsequently his life), Lance is glad to be back to himself. To finally be able to stretch out his limbs, cuddle closer to Keith in the darkness of the room, humming softly as he plants a kiss to the nape of his neck, grinning like an idiot. He can’t really stop after that, giggling to himself as he lies with Keith, arms around his torso, legs tangled together.

The past few days were a whirlwind, Lance hardly believing that they truly happened, prepared to wake up from some crazy dream at any second. Alas, nothing happens, and Lance is already wide-awake, basking in the joy of having Keith close again, too enamoured to properly sleep. Instead, he makes a list. A small act of gratitude towards his younger self.

1. Little Lance fixed his biggest problem of all—his inability to communicate with Keith about his feelings regarding the wedding. Lance should really apologise to Keith again about that, now that he’s back as himself. Watching it all happen through the lens of his consciousness was stressful, Lance wanting to interject and burst out with all his feelings. In the end, it had worked out well-enough, Little Lance faring much better than Lance ever thinks he would’ve.

2. Lance is okay. Physically and mentally, he means. Sure, not being able to have control over his autonomy was a little frightening, but Lance thinks that overall, he didn’t really mind it? His younger self managed to keep all parts os him intact, at least. And got them sent back to the right times. Well, Lance is more inclined to believe that this was something out of little Lance’s control.

3. He’s finally made it to The Day.. Or, the night a couple hours or so away from The Day. Whatever, timelines don’t matter, Lance is happy he’s actually here and not stuck watching it happen.

This all leads him to his next excited yell of thoughts—by this time tomorrow, he and Keith are going to be married. Baring the same name, vowing their love to each other forevermore, shiny new rings on their fingers to seal the deal, the signage of about a million papers so they can be officially universe-wide type-married.

God, has Lance ever mentioned that he’s in love with Keith?

The morning is syrupy slow, first rays of light flickering gently through the window, splaying across the sheets in a myriad of different colours, fading into one another seamlessly. Lance is still asleep when Keith wakes, and so he comes to at the feeling of Keith’s lips against the crown of his head, hand cupping his face, not doubting for a second that those indigo eyes aren’t trained on him, gazing into his face.

Lance keeps his eyes closed, if only to savour the moment, melting into Keith as his almost-husband kisses his head again, pulling Lance’s face close into his chest, thumb stroking through his hair.

“Mhhm,” Lance hums, pawing at Keith’s back with his own hand, not really knowing what he’s searching for, but confident that he’ll find it nonetheless. Or perhaps he’s just looking for comfort, after so many days of being unable to seek it out. “Y’re warm.”

It’s the first thing his melted-mind can think to say—a statement that’s been a fact for many years, yet still holds up its truth. He couldn’t exactly feel in the back of his consciousness, and experiencing it now is like the first time all over again.

Keith laughs lightly, chest shaking with the action, lips falling onto Lance’s head once more, resting there as Keith soaks up his comfort.

“You’re comfy,” Keith punctuates by rolling them over, now on top of Lance, arms and head still wrapped around him and pressed against him. Settling into the arms of his lover, not a single flicker of doubt or disgrace crossing his mind, as this is where he belongs. Both men could never marry, and it wouldn’t matter, because his right here is home.

However, Lance has been fortunate enough to get to marry his best friend. (Well, one of.) His partner in crime. Sidekick in battle, his boyfriend, then fiance, his soulmate. (if there ever were such things.)

A giddy smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and Lance is weak to fight it.

“I’m gonna marry you,” Lance whispers, words shrouded in awe.

Keith lifts his head up, blazing eyes of galaxies fallen and universes expanding meeting his own, alight with raw, unfiltered happiness. “Yeah,” he seems just as in shock as Lance. “I never—never thought I’d get to say that. I’m so lucky.”

The words make Lance’s chest swell with pride and love, fingers soothingly running through thick strands of his groom-to-be.

“Sorry for being a total ass these past couple weeks,” he whispers, the mood dropping a bit.

But Keith has never been afraid of picking things back up. “Lance,” he says fondly. “I forgive you. I understand that you were not feeling great about yourself, and marrying me. It–it made me upset, yeah. But I know you want this. And I know you’re sorry. And that I love you, and would it help to say that I’m also kind of really freaking out about all of this?” The last question comes out rushed, but Lance smiles anyway, dropping his hands down to hold Keith’s face in his hands.

“Still. I feel awful. At least let me try to make it up for you.”

“You already are.”

“By doing what?”

“By marrying me, you idiot.”

Tan arms wrap tightly around Keith, hugging him hard as Lance just can’t stop grinning, pressing his face against the pillow in order to hide the pure happiness that radiates from his skull.

“Shut the fuck up,” Lance grumbles on instinct, kissing wherever his mouth can reach, covering his lover in affection.

It’s a while before they get out of bed, Lance riding a giddy high, partly infused by the fact that he’s back in his own body, the rest because well. This is the day.

Lance tugs on his swim shorts, nudging Keith to do the same, smirking as he declares;

“Race you to the water, mullet.”

And the two of them take off running, pebbled path meeting grass, meeting warm golden sand. Lance dives under the waves before he has a chance to think, Keith crashing in right behind him. Keith isn’t the best swimmer (hard to be really, when Lance is right here), but this is kinda their thing. Secluded, scenic areas. Preferably in early morning or late night light, sun sinking and rising with the day.

The water is salty, more so than on Earth, but it doesn’t stop Lance from stubbornly keeping his eyes open, tackling Keith’s knees underwater and bringing him tumbling down.

“You—dick!!” Keith splutters, not an ounce of annoyance on his face, his hair sticking up at odd angles, framed by the pale light.

Has Lance ever mentioned he’s in love with this man?

“Love you too,” he tells him, kissing that pretty face again, arms still wrapped around Keith.

They stay at the beach until their fingers wrinkle and people start to wake up, noises of them moving about the small coastal town just heard over the soft lulling of the waves dragging into shore. With them, they bring the two lovers, washing them up as one, limbs tangled around each other.

The sun rises higher as it watches the two muck about making breakfast with the minimal food in their cottage, pulling faces when they take too long in the shower and the eggs burn. Still, they eat it, too doped up on love to care all that much.

The thin, wispy clouds observe as the two dress in relaxed clothing, still laughing and talking as they tumble out of the cottage, tugging each other along to the open clearing, white platform stage glinting in the light. Everything has been set up beautifully, and people are milling about, helping to put up last-minute decorations and set nameplates on all the chairs.

The trees listen as music flows softly through them faces alight with joy. Wind is nothing more than a gentle breeze, enough to lightly ruffle the ribbons tied to the chairs, bend the grass this way and that.

By the peak of the day, the small crowd disperses off into groups, most heading into what looks like a rec building, the space inside split off into different rooms, cluttered with clothes, makeup, miscellaneous items people can never seem to find when they need them.

“Lance! Just who I was looking for!” the shining face of Romelle chirps, grabbing Lance by the arm the second he and Keith walk into the building.

“Oh! Uh, see you later babe!” Lance winks as he’s dragged off, watching his fiance shake his head fondly. “Where are we going?” he hisses to Romelle as she leads him up a set of slightly-sketchy looking stairs.

Romelle titters a laugh, bubbling and fizzing in the air between them. “The top floor! It has the best lighting, and it took me a good half-varga to drag all my things up there, so you better be appreciative!”

Lance is half-shoved into a large, open room, off-white walls, windows covering one side completely, table lining the wall, mirrors and bags and clutter galore. A hound of girls drape themselves across cushy chairs, smiling at Lance as he walks in. Allura, their unofficial hair stylist, his two sisters, Acxa, Lisa—his sister in law—and his niece, Nadia.

“Sit, sit,” Allura ushers, standing up and pushing Lance into her seat in front of the mirror. Instantly, she begins firing off instructions to Nadia, who has happily taken on the role of her apprentice, handing her everything as she fixes up Lance’s hair, coaxing his curls out, styling it around his face.

Romelle rushes around doing make-up, Axca looking a little astounded when the Altean asks to do her, Veronica chiming in to convince her girlfriend. The atmosphere is light, and Lance finds himself laughing along with everyone, despite the nerves fluttering around in his chest.

“Are you nervous?” Allura asks, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind when she finishes his hair, careful not to ruin it. She meets Lance’s eyes in the mirror.

“Eh—I guess,” Lance mumbles. “It’s…hard to explain? I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck and this is actually all some elaborate fabricated dream.”

More like he was trapped in his consciousness for nearly a week, and still now feels like he shouldn’t quite be here, like he’s going to wake up and he’ll be back where he was before, walking through the Castle halls simmering with anger aimed at himself.

Allura frowns slightly. “I suppose I can understand that. Perhaps it’s because you’re finally getting what you want, and you feel like this is the end? I was very much the same when the war ended. Like my purpose was gone.”

“That’s…really sad, ‘Lura.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look! It was a long time ago. I’ve found that I can enjoy my life more now. Liberating people, while also having fun. It’s rather delightful,” she smiles genuinely, and Lance can’t help but match it. She pats his cheek, pressing a kiss there, whispering a ‘you’ll be fine,’ before waltzing off to wrangle Rachel’s bushy hair into something more presentable.

Lance stares at his reflection for a while, not out of admiration, but more so to come back to himself, eyes scanning over the small nicks and scars he’s accumulated over time. The slope of his brows, the slight downward curve of his mouth. The way his eyes still retain their youthful brightness, irises flecked with specks of brown near the pupil, a clearer blue near the edge. Keith had always told him his eyes were like the oceans of the Earth. Calm and still from the edge, by mixing and crashing into each other closer to the centre, little with perfect imperfections.

“Lance. Lance. Lance. Lance. Lance. Wedding. Going. Now.”

Someone clicks their fingers in front of his face and Lance snaps out of it, jolting back as he meets the eyes of a very unimpressed Axca, standing with Veronica by her arm.

“Uh—what now?” he mutters, glancing between the two of them.

Veronica flicks his head. “We’re going to get changed, and then Axca’s heading over to bully Keith.”

“What’re you bullying Keith for?”

Veronica and Axca sigh at the same time, the epitome of disappointed siblings.

“Just know that you’re gonna be fine, okay?” his sister says softly, pulling him into a half hug. (Slightly awkward, given the fact that Lance is still sitting in his chair.) “I promise it will be one of the best days of your life,” she whispers into his ear, kissing his forehead as she turns to leave, Axca shooting him a half-smile.

Despite all the reassurance, Lance can’t help but feel slightly sick with nerves. (or maybe it was the burnt food he ate for breakfast.) Either way, it dissipates a little as the warm faces of Hunk, Pidge, and Coran burst into the room, blaring music in fast, hot-tongued Spanish, filling the room with sound.

“Yooo, the man of the hour, how we feelin’?!” Pidge yells at him in a fake macho-voice, strutting over and offering him a bro handshake while Hunk suggestively rolls his body to the beat of the song.

Lance laughs, slapping Pidge’s hand in a high-five, letting the younger pull him to his feet and attempt to spin him around.

“You’re still too short for this, you know,” he teases. Pidge glares at him, eyebrows furrowed into their ever-familiar round glasses. “I’m surprised you managed to find an outfit in your size. I never realised they made the kids section look so good.”

In reality, Lance thinks Pidge looks great. They’ve got some dark green pantsuit going on, loose fitting around the legs, crossing over their chest and around their back. Someone must have put some sort of gel in their hair, because it’s actually in loose curls for once, falling gently down to their shoulders, taming the wild beast at last.

Coran, on the other hand, seems to have gone all out, his purple suit jacket emblazoned with gold buttons and thread, flapping down his back, gracing the floor. His pants are the same purple, made out of some sort of velvet. And he’s draped in so many accessories Lance can hardly see his clothes at all. It’s nice, in an eccentric way.

“How are you, my boy?” Coran sweeps forward, engaging Lance with the most complicated handshake Keith claims to have ever seen. In actuality, Lance and Coran can probably both perform it in their sleep, and it takes a good minute and a half to get through. Pidge fumes to the corner, but lets Romelle drag them over to the makeup station, prattling on about giving them a ‘little’ glitter.

“Good,” Lance offers. Coran frowns, his moustache twitching. He twiddles it with his thumb and forefinger.

“Not having second thoughts, are you? You and Number Four did seem a little hot-headed last week. I suppose the nartles may be getting to you.”

“Nartles?” Lance asks, smirk curving onto his face as he leans against the makeup counter, watching Hunk twirl around Nadia, singing along to the music.

Coran smirks right back at him, and launches into his story. “Nartles! The wedding destroyers! Tiny, invisible bugs that crawl right up your nose! Start to give you the doubts. And the sneezes. But mostly doubts!” he claims, pointing a finger at Lance.

Lance raises both arms above his head in mock-surrender. “I promise I won’t let the nartles get to me, Coran. At least, not if you’re here to stop them for me, right?”

“Damn right, my boy!”

When Lance is finally freed from the clutches of Romelle, his face has a little too much blue glitter, and his hair is definitely going astray, if the egregious amount of dancing he had to do with everyone says anything.

The others had come up from pestering Keith, and that’s exactly where Lance heads now, because fuck not seeing your partner before your wedding. Keith is hot, and Lance will take every opportunity to revel in that.

That, and he needs to put his suit on, because his wedding is in just under two hours and he’s still wearing his ratty daywear.

Thankfully, he runs into his partner as he finishes tromping down the stairs from Romelle’s self-proclaimed make-up room, grabbing Keith’s forearms to pull him in, just to stare at those eyes and breathe. Calm his racing heart.

They had talked about just signing the marriage certificates for a moment. Heading into the office, writing their names on that piece of paper and calling it a day. Walking out as Kogane-McClain.

It was Keith who had pushed for a wedding. Well, Lance wanted it too, he still does, but—what if it doesn’t all go to plan? If someone objects? If Keith has a revelation the moment they are declared husband and husband and flees to leave with another? It’s not that Lance is questioning his loyalty, but, well, Keith could do much better and—

“Stop freaking out.” It’s Keith that flicks his head this time, squeezing Lance’s trembling hand, pressing it against his firm chest. Lance knows to breathe in tandem with the steady rise and fall of his lover's breaths, slowing his own heartrate down enough to think properly.

Then he’s walking, following Keith into a much larger space than the slightly cramped hallway, glass trifold doors open into the garden beyond, air blowing in, filling Lance’s lungs.

Keith doesn’t say anything, sitting on the steps into the garden, tugging Lance down with him.

“I’m really nervous,” Keith starts, glancing at Lance for a fleeting moment. “Uh—I think I’m gonna like, trip down in front of everyone or something. Or like—forget what to do?”

“All you have to do is stand there and look pretty,” Lance says softly, eyes following the gentle curve of Keith’s face, stomach still churning.

Keith meets his gaze. “So why the hell are you so anxious?”

Busted. Yet Lance falls for it every damn time.

He swallows. “I…don’t know.” A pause, then, “I guess I’m scared that it will go wrong.”

An arm snakes its way around his waist, pulling him against his lover’s side, thumb rubbing soothingly over his hip. The silence that surrounds is a little overwhelming, threatening to choke, but Keith cuts its hands before they can grab Lance’s neck.

“It’s possible something could go wrong, yeah. So many things could happen. But it’s not about the wedding, I don’t think. I love you. A lot, actually. And I honestly see no way that’s not gonna still be true tomorrow, or the day after that, or in twenty years from now. There’s nothing that could go wrong that would stop me from loving you. Nothing ever has.”

It doesn’t banish the anxious bubble rising in Lance’s chest, but it does give it a significant bashing and beating down, hammering it away into the quiet recesses of his brain, where he can mostly ignore it. It also helps that Lance finds it a little funny how the one person he’s anxious over is also the one able to calm him down.

“I feel the same. Just so you know,” he breathes out in the next moment, detangling himself from Keith to stand up, deciding that moping is not allowed on his wedding day, goddamit.

“Feel the same way about what?” Keith smirks, standing alongside Lance.

Lance wraps an arm around his neck, drawing Keith close enough to kiss him, nothing more than a chaste peck on the lips. “Being in love with you, idiot.”

He pulls away just enough to remain close, gently tugging on a dark strand of Keith’s hair, which is in its fluffy, perfect state, framing around his gorgeous face.

“I like your hair, by the way.”

“Thanks. Ezor did it. She went a little all out with, well, everything. At one point I had a bunch of sparkly clips in it.”

“Looks much better like this, I think.”

“I do too. Is this you finally admitting that you like my mullet?”

“Never,” Lance grins, finally allowing the distance to come back through between them. “Although, I do think I’ll like you better when you’re in your suit…” he wiggles his eyebrows, earning a laugh from Keith.

“Think you like me better without anything at all,” he muses, enjoying watching Lance splutter for breath.

Their outfits for the wedding had been dropped off earlier that day, hanging on hooks in a small, cozy dressing room, Lance slipping into his suit with excitement bubbling through him, now finally overriding the fears from before.

They had bought the outfits from a backwater planet a couple of months ago, stumbling upon some rich fabrics shop with a stroke of luck and a broken navigator. The clothing was cheap, but well-made, the native species tailoring it to them, having too much fun embezzling them with fine, interwoven gems and threads.

His suit is white, pants long and fitted to his legs, delicate silvery-blue stitching up the sides and around the hem, matching with the glitter on his face. His jacket is the same shade, gemstones so tiny they’re hardly visible in the light around the cuffs and lapels, his shirt a navy so dark it could almost be black. He forgoes wearing a tie, musing his hair slightly in the mirror, adjusting the curls around his face properly.

Keith is on the other side of the curtain, fiddling loudly with his clothes, huffing as he pulls his suit on. Lance checks the time on his holo-screen, and they’ve got a little over an hour now, just enough for his hands to sweat.

“Hey Lance?” Keith calls over, the scuffing of shoes heard as he pulls off his ratty trainers. “I’m gonna go find my mom. She said she had something to give me. I’ll see you at the altar?”

There’s a lilt in his voice, teasing, but it sends Lance’s heart flying, erratically pumping against his chest.

“Yeah. I’ll see you, babe.” He hears Keith huff a laugh as the door to the room opens.

He is so ready to marry this man.

The clearing is quiet. Lance can hear a few gentle whispers from where he stands at the start of the path, tucked around the corner behind the trees. The nerves have built up again, fizzing in little excited pops up his chest. His papa stands beside him, smoothing his greyed hair down with a little handheld mirror in front of his face.

“Quick, line up!”

“What’s the order again?”

“No—no, Hunk, you’re last.”

“But I’m his sister!”

“Oi, me too!”

Lance glances across at his grooms-people, Allura confidently flashing him a smile and mouthing good luck as she steps onto the path leading into the clearing, her dress a soft pink, corseted around her waist and reaching her ankles, a gentle silk-like material Lance thinks looks beautiful. Her hair is left down, twisted strands from the front pulled back and pinned behind her head. Romelle follows after her, then his two sisters, and Hunk last, all walking the aisle before Lance, because he’s cheesy like that and is now only slightly regretting it.

His father reaches for his hands, taking the cuffs of his suit with his fingers, pushing silver cuff-links into them, the very same he wore for his wedding, and Luis’ wore for his. There’s a necklace too, given to him by his mama, secured under his shirt, kept close against his heart.

“Are you ready?” his papa asks, Lance watching Veronica step into the clearing, the second-to-last.

Lance takes a breath, steeling his racing heart, terrified it will jump right out of his chest and splatter to the ground.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

“I love you, mijo. I am very proud of the person you are,” his father squeezes his arm lightly. Lance meets his eyes, so achingly similar to his own.

“Thanks, papa. I’m happy with who I am, too.”

“You should be. There’s no one as kind as my little boy.”

Lance has tears in his eyes before he even starts walking.

When his feet do touch the soft grass, the world tilts, going watercolour. People’s heads turn, faces blurry, the arm linked with his fading until he can no longer feel the weight of it, or register that there is another person there at all. The universe subsequently implodes, all the minute space dust careening into the centre, right where Lance stands, piling in on him.

Blue meets indigo, and space realigns, everything moving back to its trajectory.

His lover is radiant. Dripping in beauty, from the deep pools of his eyes to the white of his suit. His short is a dark red, yet Lance’s heart does not bleed for him. It jumps, and rattles around, like a motorbike on a highway speeding closer and closer to the edge, knowing that once they make it, they will not fall. For Lance has been falling for so long.

And this is finally his time to fly.

His father lets go of Lance’s arm just as they reach the front row of seats, slipping into his own beside Lance’s mother, tears rolling down the both of their faces. For Lance’s father is not passing him along to Keith. His parents, his family, his friends, they have all kept him tethered to the ground, stable. Giving him the space to dig his roots into the ground and grow. But with Keith, he soars. Together, they escape the atmosphere and fly, forgoing all pretenses to just be.

Lance walks up the steps to the marble platform alone, meeting the damp eyes of his friends, standing together. A small smile from Sam Holt, the officiator.

He makes it up and turns, but not to face the crowd. His love is less than a metre away, and Lance reaches for him like a starving man would reach for bread, like a mother would reach for their child, like the universe reached their hands out and pushed Keith into his life. Keith comes, embracing Lance without hesitation, or doubt.

Whether it’s not proper, or if they shouldn’t be doing this, Lance doesn’t care. Doesn’t even consider the fact that this could be wrong, when having the one person he cares about most in his life is so unashamedly right.

Keith is warm and solid and perfect, and Lance tucks his head into the crook of his neck, squeezing his eyes shut tight, lest the tears fall. Keith holds Lance like he holds all the secrets of the world. He’s gentle with his affection, but now he’s strong, hugging Lance with such yearning it nearly throws them both off kilter.

Whether it’s minutes or seconds, no one utters a word as the lovers part, Lance still holding Keith’s forearms, staying close.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, the meaning lost to the words because Keith overpowers them all, his being alluding to much more than ‘beautiful.’ Still, the statement stands, and Keith cracks a smile wider than the one already playing on his lips.

“You’re gorgeous,” is what he whispers back, and, for a very rare moment, Lance knows it to be true. How can he be anything less, when he is with the one he loves so?

Sam’s words fly over Lance’s head as he stands in front of his loved ones. He hardly glances at them, his whole soul consumed by Keith, hooked in to every detail the man has to offer, his giddy heart kicking its feet faster as Keith stares back, just as blown away as Lance is.

When Lance Jr. scampers up the aisle, holding out a white box, he holds it up to the couple, eyes shining. Keith laughs at the sight, thanking him profusely before taking the gold band, reaching for Lance’s hand. He slips it onto Lance’s finger, lifting it up to kiss the ring as he pushes it down, Lance’s cheeks burning slightly. He then nods at his namesake, taking Keith’s ring, holding his partners hand like it’s the most delicate thing in the entire galaxy. The ring catches the light, thin gold band interwoven through the silver shining almost as bright as Keith himself.

When they are proclaimed husband and husband, there’s a second of white, where everything everywhere is right. Where nothing and no one is hurt, or suffering, or upset.

Their lips meet in the holiest of ways, gracing each other with the purest intentions any mere mortal could supply. It’s soft and deep all at once, too much and not enough, leaving Lance in a dizzying want of more, yet completely satisfied.

They come into the kiss as tightly bound souls, and leave it as one.

Lance Kogane-McClain takes Keith Kogane-McClain's hand, and together they face the crowd, baring their love with as much pride as one would lift a gold medal after a hard-deserved win, or scream their adoration from a rooftop into a silent city. Their love is written across their faces, too big for words to supply.

People stand as the couple walk hand in hand down the steps, moving down the grass hand in hand, unable to school their faces into anything other than beaming smiles.

Food is severed in the big, main building where they had gotten ready, the bottom floor decked out with white tables, laden with food from Hunk’s master mind, plenty of waiters scurrying around delivering new things.

Team Voltron sits around the head table, Lance by Keith’s side as chatter erupts around them.

At some point, Shiro gets his hands on a microphone, and it’s all over from there, Keith pretending to groan in embarrassment and duck his head into Lance’s shoulder.

“Ahem. If I could have everyone's attention,” Shiro rallies, sending a pointed smirk his brother's way. “Thank you. So, Keith. My best brother. You made a speech at my wedding, so I feel it’s only appropriate to get right back at you.” There’s tittering laughter, and Shiro makes a point of pulling out a long strip of paper, only to not even glance at it as he begins speaking.

“I can now say I’ve known you for over half your life, and nearly half of mine. But from stealing cars, to beating me at the Garrison, to finding you again and again, fighting alongside you, I feel like I’ve seen it all. The important parts, at least.

“Keith, I know you think it’s cheesy, and I know that you just can’t handle it because you’re lactose intolerant, but I’m really proud of who you’ve let yourself become. From that awful mullet hacking cars and threatening to beat me up for chasing you down and wrangling you into the bath for the first time in days, to someone so strong and level-headed, I’m proud. Proud of your stubbornness, your old Mothman thirst posters you hung up when you were fourteen, the way you never give up. And how you still looked for me, even when I haven’t always been the best brother.”

Shiro pauses, flesh hand gripping the microphone tight as he takes a breath, steadying himself. “I know I’m always going to see you as my baby brother. I know I want to just—sit you down and keep you safe from everyone who could ever hurt you. I know I can’t, yet it still worries me every day. But Keith, whether I’m with you or not, you will prevail. Because you always are, and always have been, exactly as you come.

“The thing I am most proud of you for, is the people you’ve chosen to surround yourself with. Especially the man you love. I may not have known Lance for as long as I’ve know you, but he’s one of the best people out there.”

“Awh, thanks man,” Lance says, not-so-subtly wiping tears from his eyes, loosening his arm around Keith as his husband (husband!) side-hugs his brother, enveloping him the best he can.

“Love you, Keith. Don’t forget about old me now that you’re being swept off your feet,” Shiro says into the hug, pulling away to sit back in his seat, and pretend that he is totally not crying right now.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance catches Marco sneaking his hand closer and closer to their table (remind him why they sat he and Keith’s family at the same table?) snatching it last minute, a second before Lance can slam it down to the table.

“Yo, following on from that last speech, I think it’s time we talk about our baby brother!”

Lance buries his face in his hands, wishing for instant death and to slide under the table. He’d forgone speeches just for this reason, the embarrassment of being publicly ridiculed by his ungodly amount of siblings.

“I don’t remember the day you were born,” Marco starts, “But I do remember you moving into my bedroom only to vomit all over my bed. I also know that you could swim before you could walk, because you were everyone’s favourite and we would all carry you everywhere.”

Keith nudges Lance, laughing, but Lance firmly shakes his head, deciding to down his skinny glass of fizzy champagne in one gulp, feeling it buzz down his throat as he leans his head on Keith’s shoulder, half-haiding his face as his sibling all snatch the microphone off of each other, stories of his childhood slowly getting more and more deranged.

“In middle school, Lance had to take me to the school dance, because all the girls he’d asked rejected him,” Rachel cackles, shooting Lance that familiar grin. “Don’t ask me how, but I’m glad he’s adjusted his game enough to score someone like Keith. I know he makes you happy, and it makes me happy that I no longer have to jump around with you to Low in a sweaty hall full of pre-teens.

“But really. I think I can speak for all of us when I saw we’re proud to have you as our brother, Lancito. The years you were apart from us were the hardest we’ve ever had to face, but the day you came back was one of my happiest. I don’t wanna make this long, so, we love you Lance. Thank you for being our brother. And, y’know. Saving the universe and all that jazz.”

“We love you!!” and variations of that ensue, his brothers and sisters clamouring to declare it to the crowd at large. Lance blinks, and he’s back in Cuba, being tugged and pulled around by his siblings, taught how to dance, to sing, to do hair. He sees the tears and the fighting and the day he broke his leg because Luis pushed him too high off the swing. The people he grew apart from as he got older, and then lost completely. Found, once more, clicking together again like an old puzzle, the steady comfort of knowing someone supporting him.

Lance gets tears all over his desert.

When the reception begins, it’s late in the afternoon, the barest of cooler breezes picking through the clearing as they all bustle outside, chairs cleared, music blaring from a place Lance can’t quite figure out.

He loses Keith in the crowd, but is kept chatting with family members and friends coming up and congratulating him. A little overwhelming, but nothing can touch Lance right now, sailing too high on his cloud of bliss that he talks freely, thanking people and making small-talk.

Like always, he and Keith drift back to each other, a syzygy. Lighting up the universe.

“Would you like to dance?” Keith mock bows to him as he comes up behind Lance, hands wrapping around his waist.

Lance would play along with the act, but he’s too love-dope to bother, kissing his husband on the mouth as he leads them to the middle of the clearing, a makeshift dance floor of sorts. Lance still isn't sure who’s controlling the music, but it stops when he and Keith get there.

When it starts up again, the beat is slow, lulling. A cover of a song Keith told him he remembers from his childhood—back when his dad was still around. This one though, is softer. Intimate.

Looks like we made it, look how far we’ve come, my baby

We mighta took the long way, we knew we’d get there someday.

They aren’t the most public dancers, but this is different. Right now, it’s just them, and they don’t notice everyone moving off to the side, watching on as the two stay close, wrapped in each other's arms, more swaying than dancing as they move with the beating of their hearts.

(You’re still the one)

You’re still the one I run too

The one that I belong too

You’re still the one I want for life.

(You’re still the one)

You’re still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You’re still the one I kiss goodnight

Keith’s head rests in the dip of his shoulder, both arms settled around Lance’s waist. Lance keeps a hand on his lover's back, guiding them across the grass, closing his eyes and letting the melody wash over his skin, seep in and mingle with his love, which he pours out in indefinite qualities, letting it wrap around the man in his arms.

He needs to reside within Keith’s skin, crawl inside and barricade himself inside Keith’s heart. He needs to spend every day with Keith by his side. Wake up every morning to his hair sprawled across the mattress, pull him close and love him. Sit beside him, watch him achieve everything he’s ever wanted. Lance wants it all, to give and give and give and have the reward of Keith at the end. Have Keith at every milestone along the way.

(You’re still the one)

You’re still the one

The song comes to a close, and it’s the beginning.

Lance opens his eyes, the most beautiful person looking back, time stilled as they drink each other in, the last note ringing on for eternity before the wall crashes down and their hearts meld, applause smattering around them. The couple looks up in slight shock, not realising they were so alone in the middle.

“Happy first dance?” Lance laughs, raising his eyebrow at Keith.

Their kiss is short that time, and it feels good to be known. To be seen. Lance remembers himself when he’s with Keith, a limb he needs to function like he does. Call him desperate, but Lance wants Keith in all the ways he can have him, and then some.

Bodies flood in around them, and the music starts up again, louder and more upbeat, pulsing through Lance’s veins.

And he lets go.

The late afternoon passes like a bubble in time. Too long and much too quickly all at once. Lance strips himself of his jacket at some point, growing too warm despite the waning heat. He yells the words to songs and dances with others, taking their hands, dipping and spinning them. Comes out of the press of bodies to meander through the drinks, mostly sticking to soda and water, not wanting to forget a single second of this day.

It feels like everyone shares the love he feels in his chest, passing it jovially around between them. He’s high, fueled by it, seeking Keith out only to kiss him hard, the two of them making out like stupid teenagers against a tree, ruining Keith’s lovely hair.

“Let me fix it,” Lance insists, lips kiss-swollen and eyes shining, pulling the hair-tie off his wrist to pull Keith’s hair back, taking the opportunity to run his fingers through it. He pulls Keith along to the chairs set around the small picnic tables aroun the outskirts of the clearing, bearing light food and refreshments.

Keith sits without much protest, Lance braiding his hair back with nimble fingers, tying it off at the end.

“This is nice,” Keith hums, Lance leaning over the back of the chair to hug his arms around his love’s shoulders. “Just…being with everyone. I dunno. I never thought I’d like big gatherings but it feels right.”

“Probably because you just had me pushed up against a tree for the past twenty minutes.”

“Prolly.”

“...”

“But seriously. I like seeing everyone we care about together. Like, I’d fight in the war all over again, just to meet them, and to come to this very moment.”

“I don’t think I’d wanna fight in the war again. Once was terrible enough.”

“Yeah, but you get the statement.”

“Mhm,” Lance hums, much to interested in kissing the side of Keith’s face, lips brushing every bit of skin he can touch.

“Keith.”

A voice cuts through their moment, and Lance doesn’t pull away, stopping with his mouth still pressed against Keith’s head as he looks up. There Krolia stands, in deep purple fabric, wrapping across her chest and down her waist, her pants the same colour, dark golden colours woven through.

Keith taps at Lance’s hands, and Lance straightens up, nodding at his now mother-in-law.

“Hey. You enjoying the wedding?”

He was a little intimidated by her at first, until he figured out she was pretty much just another version of Keith, tightly wound up and a little more stubborn, a strong sense of self within her.

“It’s very loud. Are they usually like this?” she says bluntly, but not unkindly.

Lance laughs. “Most of the time, yeah. It can get a little overwhelming.”

Keith moves over to her, touching her arm lightly. “Did you need something?”

She smacks his head lightly. “What, I cannot come to talk to my son?”

“No—I didn’t say that—” Keith huffs, giving her an exasperated look. The music still pumps through the speakers Lance still hasn’t been able to place, and Keith perks up slightly. “Did you wanna dance?” he asks his mother, cocking his head slightly. “It’s that one song you like from Earth. The one that dad would play?”

Eyes widening in recognition, Krolia agrees, Lance watching the two of them exit into the crowd, heart blooming in his chest with how proud he is. He’s so glad Keith found a part of his family. His biological one, at least. A connection to his heritage, and past, one that he could truly rely on.

“Yanno, I can’t even say that I’m grossed out by that face anymore, considering he’s your husband and all, but I’m still really grossed out by your sappy face, dude,” Hunk says in lieu of a greeting, sliding up beside Lance.

He too has lost his dark suit jacket at some point, his tie hanging loose down his black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his biceps. His headband is gone, his hair a little messy, frizzing around his face.

“I don’t make a face,” Lance denies for the billionth time. (He does. He’s seen pictures of him staring dreamily at Keith, like they’re in some sort of sappy romcom.)

“Whatever you say buddy,” Hunk’s muscled arm wraps around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him against his body. “So, how does it feel to be a married man? You unlocked all the secrets of the universe yet?”

Something sharp reverberates through Lance, a twang of melancholy. This, in a way, is the last day he has with all the people he loves. The final farewell before they all split off again, goin about their own lives, making do with their time. They’ll all meet again, but maybe not like this, not ever again.

“I’m going to miss you all,” Lance sniffs into Hunk’s shirt, smearing the glitter from his face over it, but neither of them care. “I mean. I’m really, really happy I get to marry Keith, but…something like this probably won’t ever happen again.”

Hunk draws Lance against him properly, holding his best friend. “I think I get what you mean. That—this is a one time thing. The end of an era, almost. But it’s like the end of the war. People changed then, sure, but we all still see each other, we all went to happier, better places in our lives. Change is…not always bad. Just different. Although, I have a feeling you’ll like your newlywed life.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. My brain’s just being funny. Telling me I need to enjoy all this while it lasts.”

“OKay, one, this wedding isn’t going to last forever, but your relationships with everyone here will. And two, why the hell are we standing in a corner when we could be partying? Huh? C’mon Lance,” Hunk grips his wrist tight, a tangible reassurance that no, this is all not going to disappear when he wakes up, and that hell yeah, he wants to get down and party.

The bubble of love and happiness rises back up, Lance freely giving up his emotions as he whirls around with people, laughing and shouting and singing all at once.

It ends with how it started. Two men, standing in the shallows of the ocean, watching day and night bleed into one another.

Shoes were abandoned along the way, pants rolled up, shirts unbuttoned. Music is still flowing through the trees, only faintly in the distance now.

“I love you,” Keith begins. “I always have.”

Because this is the one thing they were both set on. Watching the sunset together, confessing their love as the day changed, just the two of them. Saying these words privately doesn’t make them any less true, mean they bear any less weight.

“I;m not great with words but I’d like you to know that you’re my Earth. The ground underneath my feet, because every time I want to run away, you’ve always been the person to guide me back home. You don’t hold me back, and you—you’re just this amazing person. Kind. Really kind, even when people don’t deserve it. You know how to make me feel batter, always. I feel the reason I try so many things is because you are the person by my side.

“When I was younger, and people would ask mw what I wanted to do with my life I would say ‘fly.’ They told me that was stupid, and I realised I never had anything else that I wanted to do. But I—I only see you, know. My feet could never leave the ground again and it would be the most wonderful thing in the universe becuase you love me, and that always makes me feel like I’m fucking soaring.

“Uh, so I know what I’m trying to get at is…I love you, Lance. And I can’t wait to share my life with you.”

His last words are hardly audible over Lance’s tears, holding Keith’s hand tighter and crushing him into an embrace.

“God, you are so sweet. What the fuck did I ever do to deserve you?” Lance sniffles into Keith’s neck. “Fuck you, I’m not gonna be able to say my bit now,” he chuckles wetly, moving back to wipe his eyes.

He cups his hands gently around the back of Keith’s neck, thumbs soothing over his skin.

“I love you too. A lot. A lot a lot. A mega amount. If you had told sixteen year old me that this was happening, I probably would’ve believed it, ‘cause I liked your stupid mullet then too.

“I just—every day feels much more bearable with you. I need to love you for as long as you’ll let me. I want to take you so many places, go on a million dates with you, have you in my arms for years and years until we die, and by then we’ll be so indistinguishable they’ll have to commemorate us as one. Because we are. You are my whole heart Keith, it lives and beats for you. I will always be here to guide you home, just like you’re always there to push me forward. And up. Since I’ve started flying with you, I don’t think I’ve ever once looked down. I mean, how could I, when you radiate like the fucking sun, pulling everything into your orbit and keeping me willingly by your side. It is an honour to hold your hand Keith, one I know I would give up almost everything for. I don’t think I’ve ever really felt love until I met you. My soulmate. My best friend. My husband.”

And now they’re both crying, kissing each other through the tears as the sun slips below the horizon, and the first few stars rouse from their slumber and begin to peek through the night sky, illuminating the lovers.

It truly is one of the best days of Lance’s life, something he knows he will keep nestled safely against his heart forever.

Bodies moving fluidly together, pale hands sliding up, deftly undoing the remaining buttons of Lance’s shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and pushing it to the floor, following suit with his own as he shoves Lance back on the bed, crawling over him.

Lance draws Keith closer, already moving his body, pushing up against his lover as the heat builds, his head still pounding from the music, a dizzying pace as Keith’s hands slip down, groping at Lance’s crotch through his pants.

Love isn’t all about physical affections, making love. But as the two stumbled into their cottage, sea salt sticking to their legs, face’s a little red from the tears, love had been high in the air. Something electric, crackling through them. A heat, a warm, low burning fire, luring them in, making them huddle around as they rum their palms together, desperate to get warm.

Slowly, they had fallen into the bedroom, lighting low and lustful, alluring them onwards, mouths slotting together in tandem as hands wandered.

Now Keith rolls his body down in a dirty grind, heel of his palm pressing into Lance’s groin, breathing hotly into his mouth, but denying Lance the kiss. Lance groans, nothing more than a pathetic whine, sliding his hands over Keith’s back, feeling the muscles shift under skin, urging Keith closer so he can kiss up his husband’s neck, teasing the flesh with his teeth, licking over it with his tongue.

It’s helpless minutes of grinding and touching, hands wandering wherever they can, stripping off their remaining clothes until they’re both naked, still writhing against each other as they fight for dominance, bodies rolling and twisting, Keith taking his hand away from Lance’s cock only for Lance to push Keith over, straddling him keeping Keith’s hands held tight above his head.

There’s times like this, where it just gets so overwhelming. The lust. Desire. It builds and builds, collapsing over the edge into this; a heated fight for dominance, all rough and shoving and competitive, both needing to get the other off, love exploding out of their hearts so fast they need to fuck at the same pace to get it across properly.

Keith moans, the prettiest picture, all flushed, arching his back, hair messy and falling out of its braid. He doesn’t try to move his hands, and Lance knows if he tells him not to move them, Keith will listen. But he’s not feeling that tonight, too drunk on love to want Keith not touching him, redirecting his husband's hands to fist in his hair.

Lance suggestively grinds his body down against his lovers. “You gonna let me suck you off?” he breathes, voice low, gaze settled on Keith’s.

Keith nods, bucking his hips up, hitting lance in the chin as Lance begins moving down his husband’s body.

“Ow,” he mutters, and Keith apologies by rubbing his fingers across Lance’s scalp, whining a soft ‘sorry baby’, as Lance holds his hand up for the bottle of lube he knows Keith has grabbed.

By the time it’s pressed into his palm, Lance is already kissing the insides of Keith’s thighs, making himself at home. God, he loves these. So thick, wrapping around his head as Lance gets closer and closer to that gloriously fat booty, sliding his hands under to grope at the soft flesh shamelessly. (And if he’s being extra bold tonight, it’s only because he hasn’t done this with Keith in ages, what with their stupid fight, and his even stupider younger self coming to possess his body. Fuck him for getting a blowjob, by the way.)

The flesh gives under his hands, firm from years of routinely working out, yet still caked with a healthy layer of fat, just enough for Lance to pop a semi every time Keith puts on that goddamn Blade suit.

Keith is mewling now, soft noises that go straight to Lance’s cock, pushing him to kiss and nip Keith’s legs harder, shifting his body so Keith can throw his legs over Lance’s shoulders, angling his body up from the bed slightly, enough that he can squeeze tighter around Lance’s head.

“Y’re so fuckin hot,” Lance moans from his cacoon of bliss, voice muffled from the way he’s sucking a hickey right into the inner corner of Keith’s thigh. His plan was to suck Keith off, jerking where his mouth couldn’t reach and finish him that way, but Lance wants to wear him out. Wants Keith to melt into a puddle of senseless sounds as he begs for release, tears rolling down his face as he cums.

So Lance teases his way to Keith’s asshole, moving a hand from underneath his body and running a finger around the rim, moving his mouth so he can push the tip of his wet tongue in with the position he’s in—trapped in a much-wanted cage of his husband’s thighs.

He thrusts his tongue in further, hardly hearing the sounds Keith’s making, all blending in with th pleasure as he twists it around, warm insides of Keith’s hole, his spit coating the place as he sighs deeply into it, shoving his tongue further and further, making sure to lick and fuck every bit of Keith he can reach.

He doesn’t notice the way his own hips are rutting into the bed, his cock slipping against the duvet as he tries to find release, face undoubtedly covered in saliva as the wettest slurping sounds come from his mouth. He’s having a whole feast down here, and he wants to gorge for eternity. Lance moves his hands around to hold Keith’s hips, moving them at a gentle pace, rocking into his mouth, getting Keith to take him a little deeper. Keith falls in swing, tugging on Lance’s hair to meet him as he fucks down, spearing himself on Lance’s tongue.

It’s a sloppy mess, lewd, wet sounds coming from in between Keith’s thighs as his moans, hands gripping Lance’s hair tighter. Lance can’t hold back anymore, and he loses himself in it, jaw aching from thrusting into Keith at this angle, but committed to it anyway, dead set on seeking out all of Keith’s weak spots and ruining him.

In pursuit of his goal, however, Lance forgets about his own very hard, throbbing dick, still rutting against the matress. He can’t take it anymore, and all it takes from there is a deliberate slow roll of Keith’s hip to have Lance tipping over the precipice, spilling white-hot onto the bedsheets as Keith grips the base of his own cock hard, keeping the pressure around Lance’s head.

Lance is in heaven, having the best out of body experience he thinks he’ll ever accomplish, thick thighs squeezing and not relenting, his body convulsing as he rides out his orgasm, heat wrapping around his insides and rendering him speechless, unaware of the world around him.

Until it’s all over. Far too quickly, if Lance has any say in it. Keith takes his legs off of Lance’s shoulders, pulling his husband up to hold him tight against his chest, hand stoking through his hair.

“Fuck, Lance, why the hell do you keep getting better at this?” Keith muses, trailing open-mouthed kisses along Lance’s shoulder. Lance is acutely aware that Keith is still painfully hard, no doubt needing to get off. A thrill runs through him at this, and Lance wants to jump right back in, have Keith fuck him so hard he forgets his own name. (Like he ever would. Not now at least, when he bears the most important name of them all. One that intertwines him with the very man he loves.)

“It was your fucking thighs,” Lance whispers against Keith’s mouth, diving back in for another kiss, hard and all-consuming. His head is spinning, every nerve ending alight as his body gives in, letting Keith roll them over, leaving him pressed into the bed. Keith’s hands are all over, raking up Lance’s chest, cradling the back of his head, kissing every inch of skin.

“F–fuck sweetheart,” Lance gasps, body hot and trembling under his husband.

“Spread your legs a little,” Keith asks, Lance all to compliant, watching as the other man grabs the lube Lance had dropped on the sheets, snapping open the bottle and generously coating his fingers.

Lance needed this like, yesterday and he gasps as a cold finger circles his entrance, playing with him.

“Oh, please, please,” he whines, still oversensitive from his previous orgasm, not yet worked up enough to get hard so soon. He needs to forget himself, let his mind shoot further and further away as Keith’s finger keeps fucking circling him, pressing lightly against the ring of muscle.

“Keith. Keith. Keith,” Lance blathers, apparently reaching the point where he forgets all words bar his lover's name, head unable to compute it all. He can talk big time (when his tongue isn’t shoved up Keith’s ass), but the second Keith does anything back he’s fried, entering a new plane of need.

Another finger is put against his hole, the two slightly scissoring open the muscle, Keith’s other hand plays with Lance’s nipple’s, reaching up to twist and flick at them, the nubs hard and Lancw whimpering for moe.

“You look so good,” Keith says, placing a kiss to Lance’s navel, letting his lips linger. “Can’t believe I get to have you. You’re so beautiful, nothing I love more than seeing you like this. Such a mess, hm?”

Lance gasps again, boarding on a moan as Keith’s fingers finally fucking enter him, now moving inside him, curling and bending just enough to rub up against his walls. It’s almost nothing, and yet Lance is so inclined to it, body begging for release, knowing he can’t get there, his dick only just beginning to show interest again, body still thrumming from his orgasm, from having Keith so close, from everything.

He fucks his hips down, attempting to get Keith’s fingers further up his ass but Keith doesn’t relent, holding Lance’s hips down as he removes all his fingers, only to teasingly add back in a third. They push in hardly to the first knuckle, stretching his hole, giving Lance something, but not enough. Never enough, with Keith. He needs to see stars, to be so high that the fall never comes, because he’s never coming down.

“Kei—eithhh,” Lance draws out. “I need—I need you. Stop—stop teasing me.”

Oh, look, his words are back. Keith smirks, moving his fingers half a centimeter further into Lance.

“But you look so good,” Keith takes the lube again, pulling out his fingers with a squelch so he can stroke Lance’s cock, gently, building him up to full mast as he circles a finger around Lance’s rim again, this time only waiting a few seconds before plunging it into the tight, wet heat.

Lance clenches around him, head tipping back. Body rising, arching off the bed. Keith crooks his finger, now all the way in, and Lance knows he’s gone.

A second finger, scissoring him out with the first, pushing at his tight muscles and letting Keith get deeper. A third, and Keith stops touching Lance’s cock, allowing Lance to buck down onto Keith’s fingers, giddy for it.

A strike of lighting as Keith’s middle finger brushes past his prostate, Lance choking out a cry.

“Yes yes yes, right there—” he calls, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s not surprised when tears roll down his face, crying from being brought to the edge again and again, only to be denied the one thing he needs right now.

At seeing his lover get so worked up Keith forgoes the fourth finger, letting his hand slip out, Lance letting go of a high pitched whine at the loss of contact. But Keith pulls his body over Lance’s, lifting up just enough to line the tip of his head with Lance’s hole.

Slowly, it catches on the rim and Keith pushes in, fat tears leaking from the corners of Lance’s eyes, his hands raking down Keith’s back. Keith pushes in in slow increments, Lance feeling the burn and stretch of his hole around his husband, rocking his hips down into it.

They fall into a rhythm, Keith pushing up as Lance goes down, slowly eating up every inch of Keith’s cock until there’s nothing left, Keith fitting snugly inside of him. It hurts, the burn of being so intimately stretched, but Lance doesn’t care. Doesn’t care because Keith is inside of him. Not for the first time, not even close, but the repetition of this act does not make it any worse. Lance forgets when Keith starts moving, only registering it when his husband is pulling out slightly, thrusting back in.

“Keith, Keith,” Lance cries, arms looping around Keith’s shoulders to keep him closer, tugging on his hair.

Keith is done teasing him, the both of them needing this, hearts beating in tune with their desire. He fucks Lance deeper, grabbing his hips and moving his body against his. Lifts Lance up enough to angle his cock and hit that spot, every time.

Lance’s eyes roll back and he’s reduced to a whimpering, teary mess as Keith’s mouth drops to the crook of his neck, lightly nibbling the skin there. Lance can feel his body bouncing up against the mattress after every thrust, a testament to how hard he’s being dicked down right now. His cock aches, squashed between their bodies, crying for release.

“M’getting close,” Keith mumbles into his neck, giving Lance a solid three seconds of warning before three things happen at once.

Keith licks over the wet skin of Lance’s neck, and sinks his teeth down, not sucking a hickey, but biting Lance, the pain flooding through him, so good. As his teeth sink in, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, spilling into Lance, his cum hot, coating Lance’s insides with white.

Lance loses it, unaware if his body orgasms too, or if he starts fucking tap dancing on the bed. All that hits him is the pleasure of it, never ending, hitting him hard over and over and over again. He can Keith stop time, shift cosmos, and come down as one. Their bodies and minds both sink together, locking them finally in one mortal being.

When the initial high wears off, Keith pulls out slowly, and Lance whimpers, Keith shushing him with a kiss to the lips, soft and gentle. The bite on his shoulder aches, his face wet and slightly crusty with tears (and undoubtedly glitter).

Keith collapses on top of him, and they pant heavily for a minute, clinging to each other, neither speaking a word as they both try to properly settle after the climax.

“Are you okay?” Keith breaks the silence after a while, kissing Lance’s cheek and pulling back enough to meet his eyes. “I feel like it got really intense there.”

“I’m good,” Lance says against him, pecking his lips. “I’m so good. You made me cry Keith, god, how much more of a sap could I be?”

Keith laughs softly, moving off of Lance, the sticky mess between them very apparent. “I’m gonna get a towel,” Keith decides, dipping his head down to kiss over the bite mark, slipping out of bed and coming back to a boneless Lance, wiping as much off the mess off of him as he can. Lance follows suit with Keith, hands tracing the planes of his husband's body tenderly, loving every inch of it.

They leave the bed a little bit of a mess, ejaculate still staining the sheets, but they don’t care, huddled up under the blanket together, each tucked up against their favourite person, hands roaming lovingly over skin, Keith’s tongue licking over the bite, soothing it.

“Oh my god, we’re married now,” Lance reaches this epiphany, staring at Keith with wide eyes, his husband pulling back enough when he heard his lover speak. “I’m married to you. I’m Lance freakin’ Kogane-McClain. Do you know how insane that is?”

“I don’t think it’s kicked in yet,” Keith smiles, arms winding around Lance to hug him tight, “But it’s fucking crazy. There’s so much I want to do with you and like–god–”

They grin like the sappy idiots they are, Lance acutely aware of the ring on his finger, the love pulsing through him. He knows Keith, inside and out. He yearns to know more. And through this knowing, not despite it, does Lance love Keith. Would abolish the entire universe for him.

They laugh and hold each other, that moment easily the best one of this whole day. Just having Keith in his arms, trusting that everything will be right. Ready to do everything, because he has this man by his side.

And they kiss, one more time. It’s short, and loving, filled with every once of respect and trust. Lance sighs deeply as he burrows closer to his lover, and there’s no place he could be happier.