Archive of Our Own

Lance didn’t consider himself all that superstitious, but he never trusted a simple mission . 

Whenever Shiro or Allura deemed a mission to be simple or easy , Lance felt his teeth stand on end. He stiffened and tightened his jaw and tried to ignore the feeling that they totally just jinxed them. 

To be fair, they often did turn out to be just as simple as expected. Being a paladin was certainly a dangerous and thrilling career path, but what the news feeds and intergalactic gossip columns often missed was how most of it felt painfully mundane. 

They spent most of their time in the lions supervising cargo transports, delivering medical supplies, escorting refugees, you know, the easy stuff. Not taking down Galran fleets or facing Zarkon. 

So Shiro had a point most of the time. 

But they spent most of their time in the universe and Lance just felt that it was a little bit of bad luck to act as if it wasn’t constantly laughing at them. 

So.

Lance woke up that morning to alarm bells and a nasty headache and what Shiro called a simple mission, seriously guys, you’ll be back for lunch. 

He should have known it would all go to shit. 

***

Lance tried to focus around the headache drilling into his ears, but Shiro’s briefs were always boring and proved especially painful with alarm bells ringing inside and outside your head. 

He blinked hard, squinting at Shiro’s screen. 

“They call them Quint Eaters,” Shiro was saying. “They are druids that radicalized and left the Galra coalition.”

Pidge’s eyebrows shot up. “Druids even more radical than the Galra?”

“They believe that quintessence should be used for individual power, not just to run a totalitarian fleet.”

“Sounds like my kind of druid,” Lance offered.

Keith threw him a nasty look. Lance ignored him, mainly because even the ugliest of glares looked good, mayhaps even sexy, on Keith. 

(Yeah. This was a thing. Lance got got by the unrequited teammate crush. And this was mainly why Lance was certain the universe played with him like an evil puppeteer.)

“I don’t think you’ll get along,” Shiro smiled wryly. “Considering they are the reason for our headaches.”

Lance yanked his eyes from the cut of Keith’s jaw, realizing the extra malice in Keith’s eyes wasn’t just because he thought Lance was truly that annoying. “Pardon?” 

“They have taken Haggar’s teachings of obtaining quintessence and morphed them into a great power,” Allura said from the control board. “They have managed to draw the quintessence from most beings and ingest it.”

Lance tilted his head. “So they are–”

“They are called Quint Eaters for a reason,” Keith said, because he was the worst and definitely was one step ahead of them because of stupid secret Blade intel. “Apparently, quintessence has different flavors.”

“Flavors?” Pidge asked. 

“Sure,” another lopsided shrug, “I mean, our quintessence makes up everything about us. So, everything about us alters it a little. Think of each experience we’ve lived, every emotion we’ve thought, as a spice.”

Lance’s nose wrinkled. Hunk started to look a little green. 

So that’s why his head was pounding, why his stomach was growling and his eyes felt heavy. 

Lance always felt like quintessence leaving his body would feel a bit more magical, and not as much like a hangover. 

Shiro looked at Keith. “You’re familiar?”

Keith offered a shrug.

“I’ve never seen one, but I’ve heard stories from Blades who have. No one has heard the incantation they do, I mean, obviously, otherwise we would have way more Eaters running around. Apparently, they can be driven insane from the addiction of it. They draw it into them and their bodies adjust, digest it into power, and then need more. It’s like a drug.” Keith rolled out his neck and Lance’s mouth watered. “I’ve heard they suck to fight.”

“Oh, perfect,” Lance said readily. 

“Well, it seems as if we will have to,” Allura said, fingers flying across the keyboard. “A group of them have caught onto the ship’s and our own quintessence.”

“Hence the headaches,” Pidge said. 

“Correct,” Allura frowned at the screen as the castle shuddered. “They have really sunk their teeth in.”

Lance winced. “Gross.” 

“Agreed,” Pidge said.

“Sounds dangerous,” Hunk said cautiously, much more of a believer of jinxes than Lance.

Shiro offered him a reassuring smile. “Relax. We will patrol over their hideout with the lions, get a look of their set-up, and then regroup to figure out a plan. It’ll be simple.”

Lance winced again. 

***

By the time they suited up and entered their lions, Lance’s headache worsened into an almost blinding migraine. 

He patted Blue’s dashboard nervously. “If I start to pass out, knock me back in, coach.”

Blue purred in response. 

The mindmeld felt sour. Everyone was tired, hungry, and in a foul mood without the mission having even started. Lance tried to not think about what they would look like an hour from now. 

“Alright,” even Shiro’s voice was strained. “Everyone ready?”

Mumbles of assent filtered through the coms. 

“Remember,” Shiro said. “We are staking it out, then retreating. No one get brave, got it?”

“Got it.” 

“We aren’t leaving until everyone gets it.”

Keith snapped his teeth. “That felt pointed.”

“It was.”

“Got it,” Keith grumbled. 

They took off, and things immediately started to go wrong. 

Pidge narrowly avoided crashing their lion into Hunk’s. Hunk reared back and almost slammed into Lance. They were barely in the air, and everyone was yelling. 

“Guys!” Shiro said sharply. “Calm down. We need to work together.”

“How can we work together when we can barely steer?” Keith snapped, his anger hot in the mindmeld.

“Keith,” Shiro said sternly. “Breathe.”

Keith huffed and Lance felt a strike of fear. They were falling apart. 

“They are on Planet XX0683,” Allura said in the comms. “Right below you. No signs of any ships or Galra tech.” 

They soared through space, Allura’s voice calm but quick in their ears as she scanned the desolate planet below them. 

It was one of the darkest planets Lance had ever seen, ripples of chipped mountains and pits of dry lakes. A cracked shell with no soul. 

Lance felt nauseous. “Did they–”

“They ate it whole,” Pidge said quietly. 

Lance’s hair stood on end. 

“This was a really, really bad idea,” Hunk said quietly. 

Lance had to agree.

“Shiro, there’s no way we can form Voltron,” Keith panted. “I-I can barely see .”

Lance was glad he wasn’t the only one going cross-eyed. 

Blue jerked wildly. 

“ Shit ,” Shiro hissed. “They’ve got the lions.” 

“How?” Lance smacked at his controls, throwing scan after scan on the planet below them. “We can’t even see them, they shouldn’t be able to sense us from this far.” 

“I don’t know,” Shiro’s voice fought to remain calm. “Guys, let’s–”

Lance realized, as his eyes rolled and darkness ebbed, he was beginning to pass out. His hearing tunneled, Keith’s and Shiro’s voices teetering high. 

His sight was extinguished, face hot as his head dropped. 

There was a shout, a drop in his stomach, a dull thud. 

He felt something warm lurch in his chest and his seat rocked wildly, snapping him backwards.

He gasped as blood rushed to his head, bringing him back.  

“Fuck,” Lance kicked at the dashboard in relief. “Thanks, Blue.”

“Lance?” Keith sounded panicked in his comms. “Lance?”

“I’m here,” Lance’s mouth felt full of cotton. “Nearly took a nap, but we’re good.”

Keith let out a harsh exhale. 

Dazed, Lance wondered while Keith’s mind felt so jagged with fear and adrenaline in the meld. 

“Nice catch, Keith,” Hunk said weakly. 

Lance blinked at the ceiling in confusion. “Huh?”

“You didn’t nearly take a nap, Lance,” Keith said wearily. “You were out for a second there.”

The seat slowly rose Lance back up. He looked at the scans and camera footage, and felt his jaw drop in shock. 

He definitely did pass out, releasing the controls and dropping Blue. Keith must have moved quickly and stopped his descent, because Red was locked under Blue, motors roaring, keeping her up. 

“Fuck,” Lance said again. 

“Right,” Shiro sounded out of breath. “We’re getting the hell out of here. Retreat.” 

Yellow and Green were already moving, following Black as they whirled towards the castle. 

“Thanks Keith,” Lance found himself saying. “That was nice.” 

Keith snorted over the sound of him flipping switches, unlocking Red from Blue. “Please. You know I’ll always catch you.” 

Lance paused, wondering what that meant.

But then Blue jerked and whined, lights fluttering.

“Guys!” Allura’s voice ripped through the comms. “Get out of there! It’s not a group of Quint Eaters! It’s just–”

Blue went dark. Red followed. 

And the two entangled lions, trapped in each other, fell into the dead planet. 

***

Lance felt himself dissolve. 

Felt the pieces of him break apart and scatter, no time to twist and flutter around whatever made Lance McClain. He just slipped away, like sand in salty air. 

Like sand in salty air on a beach, each grain invisible in the anonymity in millions of the same thing. 

Lance found that he was fine with being sand. 

As long as it was the sand from home, from a shining Varadero Beach, from rivulets of endless blue. 

Yeah. 

He would be okay with that. 

***

Consciousness slammed into him. 

There was no laziness to the snap of pain, the grit in his teeth and blood in his mouth as he came to. 

His heart raced as he kept his eyes shut, trying to think, trying to feel. 

He remembered Blue going dead, remembered falling, remembered the Quint Eaters. 

By all accounts, he should be dead. 

He focused on his senses. He definitely wasn’t in Blue, there were no beeps from the controls, no cushion under him, no eerie feeling of being stable in the eternally unstable space. 

No, he couldn’t be in Blue. 

He was inhaling oxygen, no helmet, clearly in a safe atmosphere. Because he felt dirt beneath him and heard the sound of metal clinking and smelled blood. 

Somehow, he knew it wasn’t just his. 

Panic burned hot in his throat as he peeled one eye open. 

Immediately, he wished he just kept his eyes shut. 

Because he knew instantly he would never be able to forget the image of Keith, bloodied and shackled. 

Keith’s hair was mussed, one side matted down to his head from a cut still gleaming dark red. A bruise was quickly blooming around his right eye and the curve of his cheek, and both his lips were split. 

Despite the horror of it all, despite the unnatural twist to Keith’s left shoulder and the uncomfortable pressure on his arms from being strung in chains, Keith let out a weak laugh. 

“Holy shit,” Keith closed his eyes, bruised cheeks cracking into a grin. “Lance, I thought you were dead.”

Lance forced himself to look past Keith. 

They were in a tunnel of some kind, likely just below the planet’s surface. It was a huge room, the ceiling stretching high above them. The cavern was mostly empty, save for the two of them and a few survival essentials. 

He studied the bare cot in the corner, the torn boxes of pillages supplies, the stack of datapads, and felt even more unnerved.

Lance looked down at himself, the dirty and bloodied black flightsuit, the chains locked around his wrists, and deeply missed his bayard. 

“What happened?” He croaked. “Where the hell are we?” 

“If I had to guess,” Keith shifted his weight and grimaced. “Planet XX0683.”

“Well, they forgot the welcome party.”

“Don’t worry,” Keith was pale. “I got it.”

Lance really hated the look on Keith’s face. It was a rare one, an expression that Lance had only seen on Keith a couple times. 

Despite its rarity, Lance clocked the furrow in his brow, the tight press of his lips, and the lack of color in his cheeks, and knew immediately it was fear. 

And Keith never looked scared. 

Lance felt his heart race quicker. 

“Lance,” Keith leaned forward urgently. “Listen. My shoulder is shot, I think I broke something in the fall. We need to get out of here.”

“Well, I could have told you that,” Lance knew he was being redundant, annoying, even, but he couldn’t turn it off. 

Because if he stopped being a little bit of an asshole, then he would fall to fear as well, and that couldn’t happen. 

“We can take them,” Lance said. “We are probably just husks to them at this point anyways. Maybe they’ll stick us in a fridge and let us soak up a little more quintessence–”

“Lance,” Keith cut in firmly. “I’m normally a fan of your insane monologues, but now is not the time.”

“Wait, you’re normally a fan?”

“There’s not a group of them,” Keith said impatiently. “It’s what Allura was trying to tell us in the comms before we fell. That’s why the scans didn’t work. That’s why we were so caught off guard. It’s just one .” 

Lance stared at him. “That’s impossible. No one being could drain that much quintessence, Keith, I mean, the castle, the lions, we were all affected!”

“I know,” Keith hissed. “That’s why we need to get out of here. But there’s something else.”

“Oh, well, of fucking course –”

“When I woke up and he was still in here and you were so still and looked so– listen, I–I freaked out a little.”

Keith pressed his lips together. 

“I lost it,” he admitted. “I started screaming shit and honestly don’t remember a lot of it, but the Eater heard it all and, well, he has a couple misconceptions regarding us.”

Lance arched an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

Keith’s lips were white. “Meaning this is going to get really awkward, and I’m so sorry.”

Lance could count on one hand the amount of times he had heard Keith apologize and found it very concerning that he was now. Before he could ask, there was the dull slide of a metal door sleeping open. 

Lance found himself holding his breath as the two of them went quiet and listened to the soft swish of fabric sliding against dirt. 

Lance felt the cavern grow cold as the cloaked figure entered the room. 

And, well, Lance hadn’t been sure what to expect a Quint Eater to look like. 

He admittedly had imagined a little bit of a vampire mixed with a werewolf. 

But this was something else entirely. 

The cloaked figure was massive . At least ten feet tall, despite the slouch of his figure as he entered the room. His cloak was a ragged purple, clearly once a finely embellished uniform of Haggar’s druids. The hood shielded most of his face, but Lance could see the pale purple tint to his skin, the long silver hair that flowed thin and matted down his shoulders.

Power seared the lines that the thing walked, embedded itself into each step the Eater took and Lance realized that this being could swallow him whole. 

“The other is awake,” the Quint Eater’s chuckle was a rasp. “Despite your fear to the contrary.” 

Keith stiffened, too pale and too scared.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you and all, but,” Lance tried to roll out his sore shoulders, “what’s the plan here? Saving us for dessert?”

The hood shifted in his direction, enough for Lance to see the eerie glow of the Eater’s eyes. 

“Lance,” Keith’s voice wobbled. “Shut up.”

“What?” Lance asked. “I can’t ask our host whether or not he brought floss to pick our quintessence out of his teeth?” 

“Stop talking .”

But Lance loved to talk, especially when it confused the hell out of unearthly creatures. “I bet quintessence drinking leaves you with shit breath.”

Keith looked like he would strangle him. 

The Eater stared at Lance. 

Or, Lance at least thought he did, it was a little hard to tell with the massive hood–

“So,” the Eater said finally. “Your lover is an idiot.”

Lance blanked. 

Keith closed his eyes in defeat.

Meaning this is going to get really awkward, and I’m so sorry.

Ah. 

Lance offered a mildly convincing laugh. “You’re the one that yanked two paladins of Voltron from the sky. That seems a little cocky, considering our teammates will be back any second.”

The Eater hummed. “How can they return to something they cannot find?”

A shiver ran down Lance’s back.

“There is a reason I stay here,” the Eater trailed closer to them, “a reason I hid in the dead lungs of this planet. You could not trace me, you couldn’t even discern whether I was working with others.”

The Eater loomed closer. 

“Your lions are empty of quintessence,” he continued. “Your friends will meet the same fate, which I suspect they know already. They will avoid this planet. Corpses make the best shields.” 

Lance felt terror crawl up his throat. He probably should be quiet and try to think, but the Eater was turning to Keith and Keith shrank into himself and fear made his mouth run and–

“Jesus, you are creepy as hell." 

The Eater went still. 

“Lance!” Keith said desperately. “Stop being an idiot and–”

“You are a stupid creature,” the Eater said decisively. “I will eat you first.”

Before Lance could think, a cold, gnarled hand reached out and gripped his chin.  Keith let out a shout of alarm, lunging forward before the chains snapped him back.  A thick stench wafted from the creature, something that smelled old and unearthly and not human. Lance fought back a heave as a low incantation came from the dark hood. 

“ Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye.”

He couldn’t discern the words, but he felt them. 

Lance felt something inside him unravel, a spool slowly running out and a ribbon drifting free. His bones grew heavier, throat creeping tighter as the Eater drank him in. 

Something behind his heavy eyes spun to action, swirling and forming into rips of blue, divides of a sea. And Lance was falling and spinning and tasted salt water and gagged at the feeling of home. 

Keith was screaming his name and Lance drank in mouthfuls of Varadero and swore he felt sand under his feet. 

His nails seemed to creep into his tightening skin, something loosening and splitting and breaking open. 

“What’s happening to me?” He croaked to the sun setting behind the long lines of an ocean lightyears away. 

“It’s your quintessence!” Keith shouted frantically. “Lance, it’s your fucking soul –”

“What is power,” the Eater asked, “if not memory?”  

Sand did not taste good when it was shoved into your face. 

Lance sat on the beach and cried as his mother carefully wiped his mouth free of the beach.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she said softly, swiping gentle thumbs down his wet cheeks.

Lance wasn’t sure whether he was crying because he hated the taste of sand or he was embarrassed. The boys were older than him and Lance was already punching above his level trying to play with them. 

But they had obliged and grudgingly let him join the game of Frisbee. 

And they had all watched Lance trip and faceplant on the shore. 

Lance grimaced against his mother’s hands, the laughter still ringing in his ears.

“Lance,” his mother smiled at him. “The only salt you should feel on your face should be from the sea.”

He could feel the sun shining and the salt on his face as his lips grew chapped and lungs fought to breathe. 

Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye

The hold on his chin tightened, the incantation growing louder and ringing in his ears. 

Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye

Someone was yelling behind him, howling a distant chant that probably would have meant something to him if he was more than a grain of sand. 

He was nothing, he was floating, he was standing, standing on the concrete of the Garrison and– 

And his mother was hugging him tightly, pressing her face against his starched collar. 

He knew that she was never thrilled about him applying to the Garrison. After all, what mother would want to see her child among the stars? 

But she tucked her misgivings behind a proud smile and he wiped the tears off her cheeks. 

“The only salt you should feel on your face should be from the sea,” he reminded her. 

She cried through her laughter. 

He spun out and away as someone shouted for something named Lance as if it was something precious.

He felt himself wash away in frothy foam and sink into warm salt and could probably slip further if it weren’t for the Lance! Lance! Lance!

“Lance!” 

Hunk, a new friend that Lance was grateful to find, waved in front of his face. 

Lance blinked to attention, coming to, remembering that he was definitely supposed to be listening to whatever Hunk had been saying. 

He attempted an easy smile. “Sorry, man, what were you saying?”

“Just complaining about Iverson,” Hunk held his gaze suspiciously. “What’s got you distracted?”

Lance offered a shrug in response. 

Because Hunk was nice and smart but new friendships were fragile and he wasn’t about to admit that his attention had been snatched by a ragged mullet standing in the hot lunch line. 

There would be time for that. 

Lance, Hunk, and Mullet would be in Garrison for at least four years before even touching a mission. 

They had all the time in the world. 

“Lance!” Someone shrieked again and Lance wondered if he had ever felt so much about a word to have his voice heave around it like they did. “Lance! Lance!” 

“Lance!” Keith snapped, marching out of the showers, with a towel tucked around his hips. “You’re a dick, you know that?”

Lance only offered an unimpressed look from the mirror. 

“What did I do now?” 

In the past two weeks he had spent with Keith in the castle, he learned that Keith was impossible to please. 

To be fair, he had figured as much during their time at the Garrison. Keith Kogane was a snippy, unlikeable, disgustingly brilliant pilot with a stick so far up his ass he probably had to pick splinters out of his teeth. 

Lance was frankly embarrassed he once had a crush on him. He tried to not think about it, blaming it all on the frantic rush and hurtle of hormones when teenagers leave home. 

Keith got closer, and Lance realized his teeth were chattering. 

“There’s no hot water left,” Keith said murderously. 

“Oh, sorry,” Lance said sarcastically. “I kinda assumed the magic castle didn’t run out of hot water.”

“It’s not magic,” Keith hissed. “It runs on something called quintessence, an energy source that is in literally everything, even your puny brain, and it–”

“I do not need a science lesson while you are just in a towel.”

Keith’s eye twitched. 

He spun away and marched back to the shower. 

And Lance absolutely did not watch the long lines of his back as he left. 

“God, shit, fuck you,” it sounded like someone was crying, “let him go, let him go, please, I’ll do anything. I’ll do it all, just don’t make me watch him die. I’ll bring the fucking world to you to suck dry, just don’t do this –”

“Let’s do this,” Lance flexed for emphasis. 

Keith rolled his eyes, but situated his elbow on the table. “You’re a loser.”

“Be that as it may,” Lance said. “I will not have someone tell me they would beat me in an arm wrestle. You are looking at the McClain household champion.”

Keith offered an unimpressed look, before offering Lance his hand. 

His hand was warm. 

It startled Lance, the feeling of calluses and the strength in shockingly delicate fingers. 

He was just surprised, that’s all. 

He didn’t expect Keith’s hand to feel that strong. 

“Let go of him and listen to me! Listen to me– God, I’ll kill you, I’ll rip you apart until you are nothing. I swear to every end of the universe, if he dies, I will destroy every last inch of the cosmos to kill you.”

The first time Keith fell in battle, Lance swore he was six again. 

He was six and had sand in his mouth and tasted the wrong salt on his face. 

He couldn’t breathe and choked on his heart and was certain that he would die. 

Because Keith, an unstoppable typhoon in every match he faced, had fallen with an ugly shot from a laser gun. 

Lance stopped breathing and was sure he never would again. Until Keith opened his eyes. 

Spat out a tooth and swore an ugly enough curse to cause a crying Pidge to laugh. 

Lance’s breaths were timed with every time Keith closed and opened his eyes. 

Every blink, Lance’s heart stopped until Keith was safe in the castle. 

And that’s when he realized he was probably in trouble. 

“Please, please. I’ll do anything. Just tell me– he’s dying, I’ll fucking do anything. Just, just–”

Lance was twenty and Keith was twenty-two and had returned from a trip on a fucking space whale a different person. 

He was tall and assured and maybe even smiled a little bit more. But he definitely still found Lance annoying and immature and Lance didn’t know what to do with that. 

Didn’t know what to do with the hitches in his breathing whenever Keith was hurt. 

Didn’t know what to do with the flutter in his heart when Keith looked at peace, when Keith looked at Lance with something that could almost be mistaken as tender in his most relaxed moments. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

He didn’t know how to take it in, take it, take him, take– 

“Take me instead!” 

Lance found that he was fine with being sand. 

Fine with drifting away.

As long as Keith wouldn’t. 

The grip on his chin loosened and when he hit the ground and sucked in a deep breath of air, he found he was Lance again. 

He was Lance and someone had been Keith. And Keith had screamed for him, had begged for him, had pleaded and cried and howled. 

Lance felt like an empty shell as he rolled onto his side, watching the Eater turn away from him. 

Keith was settled on his knees, blood dripping down his arms from yanking at the chains. His face was scratched and stained with bloody tears. His eyes glowed a dull yellow and his pupils were slits. 

He looked deranged and teetering into something forbidden and was so beautiful it hurt. 

“The quintessence of a Galra-human hybrid,” Keith’s fangs glinted in a bloody smile. “Doesn’t that just make your mouth water?”

As long as Keith wouldn’t. 

Lance opened his mouth to scream, but he found he couldn’t move. 

His body felt stolen, tied down by its own weakness, as the Eater advanced to Keith. 

It sized Keith up, grabbing his chin and tilting his head to examine the Galra pupils and the length of his teeth. 

Keith snapped his fangs at the Eater, earning a smack across the face that caused Lance to flinch. 

“Interesting,” the Eater mused. “The halfbreed found a human toy. That is rare. Humans are too fragile to be Galra playthings.”

“Fuck you,” Keith hissed. 

Lance stared at the pair, eyes burning and chest rioting, watched the way Keith glared at the Eater with a sense of sick satisfaction. Even after the blow across his face, his eyes glinted with something that was different from fear. 

It was relief. 

No . Lance tried to scream, trying to imagine the word and engineer it to leave frozen lips. No, no, no. 

“Fascinating,” by the lilt in his voice, the Eater was likely smiling. “You will be one of a kind.” 

He bent over Keith and inhaled.

Lance imagined running him through with a blade. 

“Your flavor,” the Eater said hoarsely. “It’s unbelievable. Unforgiving.”

Of course it’s unbelievable. It’s Keith, and Keith is as unreal as a star at the cusp of implosion and as unforgiving as the rip of power in the galaxy after its death.

“Well,” Keith said hoarsely. “Eat your fill.” 

As the incantation began, Keith’s eyes dropped to Lance.

Lance stared at him desperately, willing his body to move. But Keith looked almost relaxed.

No, no, no, no. 

“It’s okay, Lance,” Keith said. “Rest.” 

Lance had a feeling Keith intended for Lance to heal fast, to be able to escape while the Quint Eater was distracted with whatever the hell Keith would taste like. 

But Lance couldn’t move, trapped in that endless lack of quintessence. 

No, no, no. 

He smiled at Lance with one of those tender smiles, just a tilt of his lips, and Lance realized that he had likely misunderstood a litany of things about Keith. 

Keith was about to be killed and the universe wouldn’t even give him the luxury of screaming while he watched. 

In a panic, Lance’s foot twitched from its slumber, scraping along the dirt. 

The Eater’s hood swung towards him.

“No!” Keith snapped, voice hinging into something desperate. “Don’t look at him, look at me.”

The Eater, easily goaded towards the tastier meal, returned his gaze to Keith.

“That’s right,” Keith urged, teeth red as he smiled. “A besotted halfbreed, I can’t imagine what that must do to my quintessence.”

Lance’s leg gave out and tears streamed into his hair. 

No, no, no. 

“Does unrequited love make it sweet? Sour?”

It’s not unrequited, you idiot, just stop, slow down, I have to think. 

“What does heartbreak taste like?” Keith taunted the Eater, even as those gnarled fingers fisted in his hair. “Does it give me a nutty flavor? Ferment it like a fine whiskey? Get drunk off me, you motherfucker, just leave him alone and devour me whole.”

No, no no no no

“Finish me,” Keith held the Eater’s gaze with an even look. “And lick the fucking plate.”

No no NO NO NO STOP IT STOP IT GIVE ME A SECOND TO THINK

The Quint Eater’s incantation returned with a vengeance and Lance felt dirt enter his mouth as his teeth dug into the floor. 

Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye

Keith’s eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open as he went limp. 

Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye

The moment Keith went still, Lance wasn’t entirely sure what happened to him. 

Keith slumped and every nerve in Lance’s body went live. He felt a frantic hum through his empty reservoirs, every morsel of himself searching for something to get him moving. The chain links rang against each other as Lance’s arms moved. 

The Eater shifted, part of him wanting to check on Lance, but most wanted to continue the incantation and drain Keith. 

Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye

He rolled onto his elbows and knees, tears and sweat sliding down to his mouth. 

The only salt you should feel on your face should be from the sea. 

Lance gagged out a hoarse groan. 

He was empty, there was nothing to him, but he tried to remember the briefing. 

The Quint Eater was looming over Keith, Keith growing more lifeless as his legs sank into the dirt, neck flopping and bloody hair tangled in the Eater’s hold. 

Apparently, they can be driven insane from the addiction of it. 

Lance shifted his weight forward, clawing through the dirt towards the Eater. 

They draw it into them and their bodies adjust, digest it into power, and then need more. 

Lance thought about Keith, considering how intoxicating he was even to humans, even just to Lance. 

It’s like a drug. 

Lance scraped his teeth along the dirt, filling his mouth with it. His throat spasmed, wanting to choke, but he refused. 

If he would be driven insane by losing Keith, then the Eater would too. 

The chains on Lance’s arms creaked in resistance, but Lance got close enough. He laid on his back, lifted his legs, and slammed the heel of his boots into the back of the Eater’s cloak. 

Despite his power, the Eater was still flesh and bone. Lance heard the sick give of bones and the incantation stopped for a choked cry of pain. 

Keith dropped with a nauseating thud. The Eater collapsed backwards, his legs giving out and not breaking his fall. The second the Eater fell, Lance was on him. 

The chains dug into his wrists, slicing in and hauling him back, but Lance shoved his knees into the hood of the fallen giant, and pushed it down. 

The Quint Eater’s face was unfathomable. It looked both old and young, wrinkles sealing high cheekbones and a pert nose. His eyes were a pulsing gold, no pupil to focus on Lance as his dry mouth, cracked and chapped, inhaled deep to continue the incantation. 

But Lance leaned over the creature, and spat the wad of dirt in the Eater’s face. 

The Eater choked on it, gagging, and that’s all Lance needed. He just needed the second for the Eater to stop talking . 

He shoved his boots under the Eater’s arms in the mess of the cloak, hauled him closer, and clapped his hands over the Eater’s mouth.

“Sorry,” Lance croaked, voice ravaged by the dirt that coated his mouth. “Diner’s closed.”  

The Eater thrashed in shock. 

Lance knew he could throw him off, could probably vaporize Lance in a second. He was relying on the Eater being as addicted to Keith as he was. 

He needed the Eater to be exactly as panicked as he had been.

Lance could see the clumsy terror in the Eater, the shock that stupefied him so thoroughly he was almost powerless. 

I mean, our quintessence makes up everything about us.

“Here’s my question,” Lance hissed. “How was my flavor?” 

So, everything about us alters it a little.

“Because I know that somewhere in the mess of my soul, I love Keith,” Lance snarled. “And you drank your fill of it. You were addicted to him before you even got a taste.” 

Lance moved his hands, releasing the Eater’s mouth to wrap his fingers around his bottom teeth. He ignored the sick feeling of disjointed and sharp teeth to dig his fingers around the Eater’s jaw. 

“So,” Lance’s voice was almost conversational. “How did he taste?”

The Eater snarled, spit crowding around Lance’s fingers. 

“Did you enjoy seeing every inch of him?” Lance’s fingers shook in the Eater’s mouth, his ultimate weapon. “Tasting all those memories? Did you like what you saw? Did you enjoy swallowing mouthfuls of a brave man’s misery?”

The Eater’s gold eyes flared with power, but he didn’t dare move. 

He didn’t dare move when Lance held his ability of speaking incantations between his trembling hands. 

“Now,” Lance tightened his hold on the Eater’s mouth, prying it further open. “This shouldn’t be that hard.” 

He leaned over the creature. 

“ Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye.”

Something went wrong inside him. 

Something broke and heaved open and Lance felt a rush of exhilaration that propelled his mouth, forcing the chant to repeat. 

“Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye. Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye.” 

His throat was lined with fire and then cooled to ice, fire then ice, hot and cool, settling and swirling into something soft.

“Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye. Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye.” 

His chest bloomed, throat bobbing as he swallowed in the cavern, something was in that muggy, stale air, something he couldn’t place. 

“Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye. Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye.” 

He couldn’t name it but he couldn’t stop, part of him was a little certain he would die if he did. It was his new air, his water and wine, saving him and condemning him. It was unbelievable, and unforgiving. 

“Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye. Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme ze zylye.”

He hated the smell of fire. 

It was probably an occupational hazard. That’s what his dad called it at least, always shrugging away from having an open fire in their house. 

“I’ve seen too many accidents, bud,” his father ruffled his hair. 

And that he did. 

He saw too many and there was one that he didn’t come back from. 

He was six years old and hated the smell of fire and ensured he would never accidentally do something ever again. Each step of his life would be purposeful and intended. 

Accidents got people killed. 

Lance’s fingers dug in further to the Eater and Lance realized the creature was probably screaming. 

But he couldn’t hear it around the rush in his ears, the beat and click of each swallow as he drank the world. 

The world? No, not the world, there was no space for the world in a small cavern tucked in a dead planet. 

Just his world, then. 

That sounded right. 

He hated the Garrison on principle alone. 

The gleaming halls stank of pity. They smelled like the muck of scholarship, of trying to reroute the ruined life of a brilliant mind. 

He could see the papers now, the stories, the autobiographies. They felt a little inevitable. After all, he knew that his place wasn’t on Earth. 

He could feel the excitement of the Garrison staff. They were already writing their passages in their head. 

“He was such a smart boy, tragic past, you know. But we saved him. We gave him room and board and a spaceship to fly away from here.” 

Lance felt his world soar down his bloodstream, snapping everything back into place and refining it with pure, unadulterated power. 

He was untouchable and unmoving. He swore he could sink into the depths of this corpse of a planet and revive it. He could bring life to the dead and take it back if he so desired.

As long as he kept drinking, kept finding new things to devour whole. 

Who was this asshole with the big blue eyes that wouldn’t stop picking a fight with him? 

He was eighteen and self-righteous and more than a little annoyed that his rescue mission was squandered by a bunch of Garrison idiots. 

Fine, the other two seemed okay, but the last of the trio would not leave him alone. 

Was always accusatory, snapping at him with “The name’s Lance”, as if that was supposed to mean something. 

Whatever.

He would show Shiro the mysteries of the desert and hopefully never see those endless blue eyes ever again. 

Lance wondered if this was the feeling he had been searching for. 

The feeling of rushing power, a predator sinking its teeth into prey, an animalistic cry in his head to lock his jaw and never let go. 

The chant became a second tongue, he stopped breathing, ridding his body of any need to pause, as long as he drank and ate and sucked the marrow clean. 

His body was trembling, the quintessence stringing along every morsel of him, surging and setting him ablaze. 

Okay. So maybe Lance wasn’t that bad. 

Maybe he was a little smart. 

Maybe he could aim a gun pretty well. 

Maybe he was kind. 

Maybe he was good with kids.

Maybe he was cute. 

Lance could see the future and crush it between his fingers. He could rip the world apart with his teeth and grab stars and put them in his pockets. 

He could ruin the world just as he could save it, depending on his preference. 

He could feel each strand of quintessence flowing under, around, above him. He could feel the ripples of it in the galaxy, the disturbance of each asteroid or planet or star. 

He could feel the divide of space around three beings so rife with power his mouth watered. 

He was in trouble. 

He was so screwed. 

Lance smiled at him too much and ignored the "eternally damaged, do not engage” sign on his forehead and decided to chip away the fortress. 

This was never supposed to happen. He was supposed to fly away from Earth and spend his life among the stars. 

He wasn’t supposed to get distracted by white smiles and tan skin. He wasn’t supposed to helplessly watch long, delicate fingers and strong curves of shoulders and hips. 

What in the everliving fuck was wrong with him?

Pining after anyone felt pathetic. 

Falling in love with a teammate felt like a damnation. 

Lance thought he would never feel satisfaction again. 

His face was wet, maybe from tears, maybe from blood, maybe from the sea. He was splitting open, so desperate to inhale his jaw creaked in protest. Power crammed into him, choking him, shoving itself inside like a martyr. 

He would die like this, would die with his world in his stomach and knowing he begged for seconds. 

He never did anything accidentally. 

He found intent behind every action, forced a purpose if needed. 

He meant to dive as Blue fell. 

Meant to lock Red into Blue, to laugh at the irony of their intertwined ships as Lance sluggishly came to. 

Meant to fall with him as their lions went dark. 

Meant to beg Lance to wake up as their lions were ripped open by the Eater. 

But screaming at Lance’s lifeless body, howling at the Eater like it wouldn’t drool at his pain, shredding his impassivity in a wave of mindless panic, well.  

He hadn’t considered the ramifications of that until the Eater started to laugh. 

The three beings split through the air around him and Lance knew he was still chanting but there was some part of him that was sobbing for more. 

Begging for his stomach to be filled, to never stop feeling like he was on the edge of explosion. 

He watched Lance’s body slump in the Eater’s hold, an incomprehensible stream of pleads leaving his mouth. 

He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus with Lance’s eyes rolled back and mouth hanging open. 

He could barely breathe watching Lance die. 

There was nothing he could do, nothing 

He would die like this. 

In love with Lance McClain. 

He would die like this, a mindless, hungry animal. He would die in love with something rolling in his veins. 

He needed to give it back, needed to purge and release and pour it back into Keith. 

He needed to stop, stop, stop, stop, he would do anything he would do anything

“Take me instead!” 

  “Zhe alks wynve aisce lwme–”

A gloved hand wrapped around his mouth.

Something raw and instinctive inside him caused him to thrash. 

Another joined, shoving his jaw shut. 

Hands pried his fingers from the unmoving Eater’s teeth. He was hauled back by strong arms. 

Something kept him moving, fighting against the hold. He shoved his elbow into a stomach, kicked wildly at a pair of feet. 

“Pidge!” A voice bellowed in his ear. “Check on Keith!” 

A small figure, blurred from the tears in Lance’s eyes, rushed towards a still form. 

Lance blinked, startled tears running down his hot cheeks. 

His vision focused just as Pidge placed two fingers against Keith’s neck. 

Lance’s knees crumpled and his head felt like it would split in two. 

“Stay with us, Lance,” someone, Shiro, said in his ear. “Come back. You’re okay.”

But he wasn’t. The east and west of him was driven apart by power, he was not himself, he was far away, soaring above them like a predator stalking prey. 

Pidge cursed, which was alarming and unlike them. “My hands shaking, I-I–”

Shiro pushed Lance firmly into another body, Hunk, it must be Hunk, and rushed to them. 

Lance’s eyes involuntarily dropped to the still Eater and his stomach growled. 

He lurched and Hunk’s arms tightened around him. 

“I’m sorry,” his best friend said through gritted teeth before shoving a knee into the back of Lance’s. 

Lance buckled, hitting the ground hard with his best friend on top of him, pinning him down. 

“It’s a drug, Lance!” Hunk said urgently in his ear. “Don’t listen to it.” 

Lance wondered how he was supposed to not listen to the blood singing in his ears, taunting him, reminding him of how hungry he was, how good the power felt. 

“You saved him,” Hunk’s voice wavered. “You saved him, Lance.” 

I didn’t save him. 

“It’s okay, Lance.” 

I devoured him. 

Shiro lowered a blade to Keith’s lips, checking for the metal to fog. 

I examined every inch of him inside the Eater’s power and deemed him a tasty meal. 

“He’s breathing!” Shiro barked. 

He immediately lifted Keith, throwing him over his shoulder. 

“You opened up the planet and killed the Eater,” Hunk continued. “You saved him, Lance. Don’t forget that.”

Lance could only look up, look at the open hole in the cavern’s ceiling and the frayed, burnt edges of it. 

He stared up at the open sky and found the stars in the night sky looked a lot like Keith’s eyes when he smiled. 

Then, darkness cloaked him and hauled him into a quiet sleep. 

***

Consciousness, this time, was much gentler. 

It came slow, dripping down his raw throat, and there was a click and a gush and he was falling. 

He fell into warm arms. 

“Whoa,” Hunk grunted. “Good morning.”

With a groan, Lance peeled his eyes open. 

His head was pounding, heart racing as if he drank too much coffee. 

He blinked, adjusting to the lights and seeing way too many watery smiles.

“What happened?”

Pidge sniffed and ran forward, wedging themselves in between Hunk to hug Lance. 

“Don’t ever do that again.” 

“I won’t,” Lance’s head lolled, much too heavy. “What did I do again?”

Hunk chuckled, patting his back. “Digest enough quintessence to revive two space lions and blow a hole through the surface of a planet.”

“Oh. Right.”

The guilt that came was much harsher than consciousness. 

Fear ran up his throat as he looked behind him. Hunk steadied him as he stared up at Keith’s lifeless form in the pod. He was still bloody and bruised, dressed in his flight suit. 

Nausea burned in Lance’s stomach. 

That meant that they hadn’t even had enough time to clean him before he was put into the pod. 

The memories floated in, both his and Keith’s, intrusive and unrelenting. He remembered it sharply, the feeling of the Eater prying inside him, the bite of his teeth, the taste of Keith’s quintessence. 

He shuddered at the stab of craving. 

“He’ll be in the pod for a while,” Shiro said, coming up behind him. “His quintessence is, well–”

“Almost gone?” Coran suggested. “Nearly zero? Damn near the negatives, I’d say.”

Shiro winced. “Right, well, it will come back, but slowly.”

Lance swore he could still feel it roiling in his stomach. 

Hunk told him the whole story. 

Once Keith and Lance fell, they were forced to retreat. 

They had to figure out a way to slip in while the Quint Eater was distracted, they couldn’t risk losing any more lions. 

Enough scans showed them the lone Eater, and the second that the Eater stopped draining the quintessence from the planet and the lions, they surged in. 

They were frantically searching the surface for the hideout, until they heard Blue’s roar. 

Both Lance’s and Keith’s lions came back online, just before a bolt of quintessence blew through the ground. 

They entered to find Keith unconsciousness, the Eater drained in Lance’s hold, and Lance– well, they didn’t give him too much information about how he looked. 

Lance had a feeling it didn’t look good, him glowing with quintessence and screaming the chant of a language they didn’t understand. 

“You were lucky,” Hunk said quietly. “When we brought the two of you in, Allura said she had never seen it before. Keith was so empty of quintessence, while you were about to burst. She said you were close to literally detonating.”

“Cute.”

“The human body isn’t made to absorb that much quintessence,” Hunk continued. “Thankfully your reservoirs were so low, you were able to take in more than expected. Coran put you two in the pods and we hoped for the best. You will feel jittery and hyper for a while, though.”

“Excellent.”

Hunk studied him. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Lance said, voice hollow. 

On the third day Keith was in the pods, Shiro found Lance. 

Lance was sitting on the floor in front of Keith’s pod, staring up at him. 

They were able to take him out a day earlier, just briefly to clean him up. The bruises had faded, the blood was clean, and his black suit was replaced with a bright white one instead. 

He looked like a ghost, lost in an eternal sleep. 

With a soft grunt, Shiro settled on the floor next to him. 

For a moment, they both looked up at Keith. 

“I supposed I haven’t thanked you yet,” Shiro said thoughtfully. 

Lance let out a dry laugh. “For what?”

“For saving him,” Shiro studied Keith. “It was a miracle you managed it.”

“Yeah, I guess I took a breather between meals and–”

“Stop, Lance.”

Lance ground his teeth together, glaring at the floor as Shiro turned to him. 

“You saved him,” Shiro said calmly. “It doesn’t matter how.”

“Yes, it does.” 

“I know you feel guilty,” Shiro said, resting a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “It must feel strange, having absorbed Keith’s quintessence.” 

Strange wasn’t the right word for it. He felt like an intruder, like he violated him. 

“You need to remember,” Shiro said gently. “You did not take it from him. The Eater did. And you took it back.” 

“I didn’t return it.”

“No,” Shiro agreed. “But at least you took it.”

Shiro leaned forward, forcing Lance to meet his gaze.

“When Keith wakes,” Shiro said. “He’s going to be scared. He’s going to feel empty. It will take time to restore his quintessence. And in that time, he’s going to feel vulnerable and naked. I need you to be there for him. I need you to help him. Leave your guilt. It’s useless to you now.”

It took five days for Keith to leave the pod. 

When the door opened and he dropped, just as lifeless as he was in the cavern, Lance thought he would be sick. 

Shiro caught Keith and the two didn’t move and Lance held his breath. 

Everyone froze. 

Then, Keith groaned, fingers weakly curling into Shiro’s shirt. 

The room erupted into stilted, relieved laughs. Hunk broke into tears, Pidge clutched onto Allura. 

Lance stood, still as a stone, as Shiro helped Keith from the pod to his feet. 

Keith was blinking heavily, eyes unfocused and lips chapped. 

“Where’s Lance?”

His voice was faint, monotone. 

The room went quiet again. Lance, hating every inch of himself, stepped forward. 

“Hey, man.”

It took a long moment for Keith to finally look at him. When he finally did, it didn’t feel like Lance expected. 

He had thought it would feel intense, or even awkward. The residue of the words they had said in the cavern, the confessions yanked from them, would be evident. 

But Keith almost stared through him. 

And it stung. 

Keith nodded, as if that was all he needed to know. His eyes drifted to the floor.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asked softly. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah,” Keith frowned through Lance and Lance wanted to be sick. “I remember.”

Hunk shot a sympathetic look his way. 

“I’m tired,” Keith said. 

“I bet,” Coran said cautiously. “You will be for a while, Keith. Restoring quintessence is exhausting.”

“Yeah.”

Keith walked between them as if he hadn’t just come back from the dead, as if Lance hadn’t listened to him scream and sob and beg. 

He was like a zombie, emotionless as he left the room. 

The six of them stared after him. 

Then, Shiro turned to Lance with a look. 

Lance pushed his jaw together, and marched out of the room. 

He caught up with Keith quickly, and the two of them silently walked to Keith’s room. Keith didn’t acknowledge Lance, staring ahead with dead eyes and thin lips. 

Lance had seen Keith exhausted, stressed, broken, but he had never seen him like this. 

Keith typed in the code to his room and walked in. 

Lance, with a lump in his throat, followed. 

Without a word, Keith got into his bed, curling away from Lance. 

Lance sat in the chair opposite him. 

And the next silent seven hours felt like years. 

***

The next five days went on like that. 

Lance followed Keith everywhere. He trailed behind him as he ate, went to controls, walked aimlessly down the halls, laid in bed. Lance spent a lot of the time sitting in the chair in Keith’s room, long after his backside went numb. 

Keith would stare at the ceiling and not say anything, not until he slowly drifted off to sleep. 

And once his breathing slowed enough that Lance felt like he would breathe again, he would slip back to his room and have a few hours of fitful sleep. 

And then rinse and repeat. 

Lance kept waiting for Keith to crack. He waited for him to say something, do something, to break apart and yell and scream. To punch Lance, slap him, punch and hit and blame him for everything.

That’s what he wanted Keith to do, at least. 

But Keith did none of that. 

He walked around the hall and slept and ate. 

Coran checked Keith’s quintessence every morning. It was coming back, but slowly. 

At this rate, Keith would be a ghost of his former self for months. 

The others gave them space, probably because they felt as helpless as Lance did. 

Lance could feel the extra quintessence fading away, taking away that strange electric feeling until he felt as lost as Keith did. 

And he waited for Keith to break. 

He waited for the facade to drop. 

And one day, Keith was taking too long in the shower. 

Typically, Lance stood outside, regularly calling for Keith to check in. He would get a mumble in response, chalk that up as signs of life, and wait another five minutes. 

But Keith now wasn’t responding. 

Lance paced the curtain, checking his watch, wondering when he was supposed to risk scandalizing both of them and diving inside. 

“Keith,” Lance swallowed. “Keith, I’m going to come in and it’s going to be weird and awkward and I’m so sorry.”

Deja vu sank in him like a knife and suddenly, he was so scared and upset and paranoid that he couldn’t wait any longer and he ripped the curtain open. 

Keith was still dressed in his T-shirt and sweatpants, arms wrapped firmly around himself as he shivered under the water spray. Lance didn’t need to feel the water to know it was ice cold, the air cooling the bathroom as he stared at Keith’s pale cheeks and red lips. 

Keith’s eyes were wide and panicked, the most emotion Lance had seen from him in almost a week.

“Lance,” Keith croaked, soaked through and trembling. “I don’t feel it.”

Lance leaned over, turning the water dial to a warmer level.

“I-I don’t feel it,” Keith repeated, rambling through chattering teeth. “I don’t feel it, Lance. I don’t feel anything .”

Lance pulled off his jacket, threw it on the floor, stepped inside the shower, and pulled Keith into him. 

Keith was freezing to the touch, but Lance didn’t let go. He tugged them both under the warm spray as Keith frantically grabbed at him. 

Keith’s hands were desperate, fisting Lance’s shirt, sliding fingers under, gripping warm skin. 

“Breathe,” Lance said softly over Keith’s jagged breathing. “Keith, breathe.”

“I can’t,” Keith choked, one hand wrapped firmly around the base of Lance’s neck and the other gripping his shoulder under his shirt. “I think I’m dying, I’m never going to feel again, I can’t feel, I’m broken, I’m ruined, I–”

“You’re not ruined,” Lance whispered. “Nothing can ruin you.”

“No, Lance, I–,” Keith’s fractured words broke into sobs. 

The emotionless mask broke into panic, Keith scrambling for something to hold onto. He couldn’t decide where to hold on, hands sliding over Lance’s shoulder blades, back, stomach, arms. 

He stared forward, somewhere behind Lance, eyes wide and terrified and searching.

“Hey,” Lance grasped Keith’s freezing cheeks. “Keith, feel me. ”

Keith paused, hands hesitating from where they were digging into Lance’s hair and gripping his wrist. 

A sliver of clarity bloomed in his eyes.

“You can feel me,” Lance said. “Right? I’m warm. I’m here. I’m not leaving.” 

Keith looked up at him, and Lance didn’t deserve the reverence that slipped into his gaze. 

He gently tilted Keith’s head back and under the warm shower spray. 

Keith closed his eyes, breathing hard and letting the warm water run down his face. 

“You aren’t broken,” Lance whispered. “It–it’ll just take a second to feel together again.” 

He tilted Keith’s head forward again and Keith squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath.

“Don’t leave me,” he breathed, pressing his cheek against Lance’s palm. “I can only feel you.” 

“I’m not leaving,” Lance pulled Keith close again. “I promise. I’m not leaving.”

And he didn’t. 

Now that Keith’s facade had fallen apart, he had no strength to hide what emotions he actually felt. 

If Lance wasn’t a step behind him, wasn’t in eyeshot, wasn’t touching him, Keith panicked. 

It was quick and intense, Keith would pale and his breathing would veer into hyperventilating and he would clench and unclench his fingers. He scrambled around, looking for something to hold on to as if he was falling. 

Then Lance would grasp his hand and squeeze it tight and Keith would settle. 

Would return to that blank look. 

But slowly, he was coming back. His quintessence was rising a little quicker. 

Eventually, they started to share a bed. It was only natural, almost a little predestined. The two of them curled close and Keith slipped cool fingers under Lance’s shirt just to feel the warmth and Keith always fell asleep faster that way. 

And Lance would stare at the ceiling. 

And that’s when the cravings would come. 

Keith, soft and still in his arms, breathing and smelling like his world and power and something unforgiving, would cause him to remember the taste. 

His limbs would shake with the withdrawal of the power of a dead planet and he would lick his lips and try to push it away. 

Eventually, he would fall asleep and Keith would wake them both up with a shuffle and a grumble and would look the most like himself. 

A week passed and that furrow in Keith’s brow returned. 

Another week and he started to scowl like an annoyed little brother when Shiro anxiously hovered over him.

One more and he asked Lance to go to the training room with him. 

The room felt massive as the two of them walked into the room. Keith thoughtfully studied the weapons, running his fingers over them as if he had never seen them before. 

Lance’s head pounded and he studied the lights as if they didn’t make things worse and he considered making an excuse to leave for just a moment, just a second so he could push away the inescapable guilt and urge and–

“Do I make you hungry?”

Lance fucking blue-screened.

He went still and his brain burned out and restarted and he blinked to see Keith watched him, curiosity a new emotion on his face.

“What?”

Keith studied him. “You’ve been weird.”

Lance could have laughed, or cried. “It’s been a weird month, Keith.”

“You absorbed my quintessence,” Keith continued. “You tasted it, felt it. You used it.”

Lance felt dirty.

But Keith didn’t look insulted or upset. Instead, he just looked curious. Lance wondered if anger hadn’t been fully reprogrammed in him yet. 

“Do you still crave it?”

Lance shrugged. 

“I’ve been craving you for as long as I can remember.”

Keith hummed and turned back to the weapons, casually accepting the confession. 

Embarrassment hadn’t been downloaded yet either, evidently. 

“It feels like I’m hollow,” Keith whispered. 

They were laying in Keith’s bed. Shoulders pushed close and knees tucked together. 

Keith had struggled that day. He hadn’t felt grounded unless he was touching Lance. 

It was exhausting and frustrating for both of them. The rest of the team acted as if they were walking on glass around them, and that was what made Lance feel the worse.

Parading around Keith’s weakness.

Now they laid in the dark, thankful for the solitude, Keith’s fingers tracing along Lance’s. 

“I know something’s missing,” Keith continued. “It’s like I can feel it. And when I focus on it, I panic. I feel like I may slip away.” 

His thumbnail slid over Lance’s pinky. 

“For some reason, I don’t panic when I’m with you,” Keith said. “I know you'll catch me.” 

“What did it taste like?”

They were in Keith’s room. Tucked together in the blankets and swatched in the castle’s programmed night light. Lance could barely see Keith’s face and worked hard to act like he didn’t hear him. 

“Lance.”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Why not?”

Because I refuse , Lance wanted to say. Because it’s been 38 days since you left the pods empty and you are slowly coming back and if you hear how I gulped you down, you’ll never forget it.

You’ll never forgive me. 

“I can’t remember.”

In the dark, Keith frowned. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“Try again.”

Lance searched aimlessly for an answer. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“I know,” Keith said easily. 

“I didn’t know how it worked.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know the Eater would still have your quintessence in his system and it would still be you.”

“I know.”

“It tasted like a storm.”

Keith stopped, the next I know stuck on his lips. Lance went still as well. He had never placed it, had never been able to define the feeling of it on his tongue. But that was it, and the relief of describing it was insurmountable. 

“A storm?” Keith asked softly.

“Yes,” Lance breathed. “I think love might taste like thunder.”

Keith hummed thoughtfully, and laced their fingers together. 

“Did it taste good?”

Lance groaned into the back of Keith’s neck. 

“What?” Keith asked, his voice light and teasing. “I’m curious.”

Lance would be mad, probably should panic, but it was the happiest Keith had sounded in almost two months, so he let it slide. “Can you let this go?”

“No. Would you?”

Lance hesitated. “Probably not.”

“Right,” Keith rolled onto his back so he could blink up at Lance with those big, convincing eyes. “Did I taste good?”

They had spent every night together for six weeks and were comfortable enough with each other that Lance, for the first time, felt a stir at Keith’s words. The heartbreak and guilt had healed enough for something else to grow, something else to want. 

He cleared his throat. “I can’t describe it. Good doesn’t fit it– I mean, it burned.”

Keith arched an eyebrow. “So it was bad.”

“No, it,” Lance sucked in a breath impatiently. “Pure energy isn’t just good or bad. It just is . It burned and froze and was sweet and sour and bitter and whatever else. It wasn’t good. It was everything.” 

Keith studied him. “Are you still hungry?”

“That’s an unfair question.”

Keith’s lips twitched up and Lance’s want sharpened into a need. 

“Why doesn’t it bother you?” Lance asked one night. 

They were sitting on the observation deck, studying the stars and galaxies above them. 

Keith tilted his head, thinking over Lance’s words and, for a moment, Lance missed the impulsive way Keith used to speak. 

“I keep on waiting for you to get angry,” Lance said finally. “For you to feel violated. I mean, I took your quintessence, Keith. I inhaled your soul. I saw your memories. I know everything about you.”

“I know,” Keith said.

Lance stared at him, frustration mounting. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

Keith shrugged. “I think a part of me knew it would happen eventually. You would know all of me. It just happened a little quicker than expected.” 

“This is dangerous.’

Keith let out a dry chuckle, still a little stale, still missing something. “Why?” 

“Because.”

“Because what ?”

“You’re not,” Lance struggled for the words. “You’re not you yet. And I–”

He couldn’t finish, shame crowding in his throat. 

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Come on, Lance. I’m not glass. Just say it.”

Lance worked his jaw side to side. 

“You think what you feel now is because you absorbed my quintessence,” Keith scowled. “And you think what I feel now is because I’m dependent on you.”

Lance slicked his tongue over his teeth. 

Keith turned to glare at the stars. “Did you ever consider that maybe there’s another reason I’m dependent on you?” 

“Keith–”

“Maybe there’s another reason you want me?”

“But I can’t tell,” Lance said desperately. “What if this is all because I’m not me anymore?”

Keith pressed his lips together. 

After a moment, he got to his feet. 

“You’re you, Lance,” he said finally. “Stop feeling guilty for something everyone else is thankful for.” 

With that, he turned and left Lance alone for the first time in 40 days.

It was only after the door slid shut behind him that Lance realized that was the most normal Keith acted since Planet XX0683. 

They started sleeping alone again. 

Right on time, apparently. Keith’s quintessence had reached a “safety zone”, a level that Coran and Shiro deemed stable enough to leave him alone. 

So that’s what they did. 

They left him to train and walk and read. Give him time to think over the past two months without someone breathing down his neck. 

And he looked better. He emoted more. He got annoyed, got angry, got loud. 

The first time Keith snapped at him, Hunk started to cry from relief.  

Keith looked alarmed, then confused, then almost fond. The entire table was almost in tears after seeing that many emotions cross his face.

“I’m so glad you are mean again!” Hunk said with a watery smile. 

Pidge choked on their water. Shiro hid a snort in his hand. 

Keith gaped at Hunk. “I– should I be insulted, or–”

“No!” Hunk said quickly. “I mean, I like it when you are mean. I haven’t been able to go to the space mall since all of this. There are so many spare parts I was afraid to barter for.”

Keith thought this over. “Let’s go tomorrow.”

Hunk grinned. 

And Keith smiled for the first time in 56 days. 

Lance felt something twist in his chest and, for a moment, he panicked. He waited for the craving to hit, for his mouth to water for a storm and tried to think of an excuse to leave the room. 

But it didn’t come, not really. 

His heart continued to race and he felt his face grow hot, but that was it. 

Oh , he thought, relieved. 

Two more bites and then he panicked. 

Oh. OH. 

Keith went to attend a Blades briefing a few days after. 

Lance spent the entire time wearing a hole into the entryway. 

It was casual, just a trip to get updated on all he missed. He would be back before dinner. 

But Lance couldn’t stop worrying, wondering whether he would get tired, whether his quintessence would drop, whether he would get hurt or struggle steering Red or– 

The airlock squealed open. 

He jumped, turning to see Keith stepping inside with a huff, tugging off his mask. 

His brow furrowed, clearly surprised to see Lance there. 

Lance felt his mouth go dry. The Blades armor had always been generous, but it had been so long since he had seen it. He had forgotten the way it fit snug over his biceps, along the jut of his hips, the curve of his thighs. 

Clearing his throat, Lance hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

He hoped it wasn’t clear in his expression that he had never wanted to kiss someone as badly as he did at that moment. He wanted to grab Keith and haul his mouth to his and kiss him hard enough to bruise his lips and maybe memorize another taste to replace another. 

He wanted to feel the strength in Keith’s hands and arms and legs and god, this was it, he was going to go insane. 

“Lance?”

Lance snapped to. 

Offered a weak wave and spun on his heel and marched the fuck out of there because this was all a little too ridiculous. 

It felt like a karmic retribution when the nightmares started. 

He should have expected it. Once life started to return to their vague sense of normal, his brain lashed out, reminding him of the adrenaline and fear and hunger. 

The dreams were blurry, disjointed recollections of that night. The terror and certainty that he would die, that Keith would die, the feeling of Keith’s inevitable hatred. 

He would jerk awake, scowl at the ceiling, and then try to fall back asleep. 

He did his best to act normal around the others. They all had nightmares. He just needed to deal , he would be fine. 

But it was hard dreaming of Keith’s screams and sobs only to wake up to see his small smiles sent to anyone but him. 

But he was managing. 

Was dying a little on the inside but whatever.

At least he wasn’t hungry. 

And then he was yanked from a nightmare by the roar of alarm bells. 

His nervous system exploded. He flung himself out of bed, shoving on a shirt and sweatpants with trembling hands. 

It was happening again. They were here and they would ruin him and destroy Keith and he would have to do it all over, he would have to watch that light leave Keith’s eyes and beg it to return. 

He threw himself into the hall, sobbing out a curse and trying to not panic. 

He ran down the hall, trying to breathe, to not think of storms and the unforgivable, until Keith skidded around the corner. 

“Lance!” Keith called. “It’s a false alarm! An asteroid clipped the sensor, it’s fine, you’re fine.”

Lance didn’t slow down, too busy processing Keith’s words. 

Understanding that Keith had probably done the same thing he did, had found out it was a false alarm, and then turned around to find Lance. 

To reassure him. To make sure he knew that they were safe. 

“It’s alright,” Keith panted, holding out his hands. “Lance, you’re fine.” 

Lance didn’t slow down, didn’t stop to think or hesitate or fear. 

He hurtled into Keith and grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him into a kiss. 

Their teeth clacked together, the momentum causing Lance to stumble and push Keith against the wall. It was awkward and painful and felt a little too enormous. 

Until Keith grabbed fistfuls of Lance’s hair, turned his head, and kissed Lance like a man starved. 

Lance felt his knees buckle, felt himself sink into Keith as he sought purchase over Keith’s shoulders. 

Keith grabbed one of his hands, winding it around his own waist before sliding his hand over the back of Lance’s neck. 

The hunger Lance had spent months fearing returned, roaring up his throat, but it was difficult. 

It was fierce and coarse and all too human. It wasn’t hunger for a storm or power, it craved the taste of toothpaste and bitter tea. 

He pushed Keith further into the wall, desperate, the two of them so close but too far. 

Keith didn’t seem to mind, breathing heavily into Lance’s mouth before kissing him again. 

Lance felt like he would implode. He was frantic with want, hands sliding over any part of Keith he could reach. 

Because it wasn’t the quintessence. 

It was just Keith he craved. 

Now he could only think of the time wasted, the foolish hours spent hiding it all away. 

Keith exhaled a soft laugh against Lance’s lips. “It’s about time.”

Lance broke away, sliding his hands down Keith’s arms. “Sorry.”

Keith shrugged, a playful glint to his eyes. “I figured you needed to work out your self-sabotaging before I jumped you.”

The sentence was so insanely blunt, so irrevocably Keith, that Lance couldn’t help but kiss him again. 

That night, they found themselves in Lance’s room. 

Tucked into the artificial night, in their own little world, staring up at the ceiling of glowing stars. 

Keith’s head was tucked into the crook of Lance’s neck, his hair tickling Lance’s jaw. He drew slow lines along Lance’s chest, secure and comfortable.
“I wouldn’t change a second of it,” Keith said softly. 

Lance frowned, looking down at him. 

“With the Quint Eater,” Keith continued, ignoring how Lance stiffened. “Seriously. We eliminated a serious threat and I didn’t have to share all my weird thoughts and occasional bits of trauma.”

Lance couldn’t help a snort.

“You just got it all at once,” Keith grinned up at him. “I was actually a little relieved.” 

“You’re so bizarre.”

“Probably,” Keith agreed. 

He straightened, shifting his weight to prop his arms and chin on Lance’s chest. 

“I don’t regret any of it,” he said intently. “Got it?”

Lance smiled. “Got it.”

“You saved me.”

“I know.”

“And stopped us from orbiting each other like idiots for another five years.”

“Fair enough.”

Keith kissed him gently. 

The kiss was simple, but Lance could taste the meaning of it. There was a lilt of patience, a steady thrum of adoration, a hint of love. 

Neither of them were recovered fully, but they would be. Eventually. 

Maybe they would talk about it more, when they were ready. 

Keith’s nose brushed against his. 

“Do I make you hungry?” He whispered. 

Lance was already leaning in. 

“Starved.”