Red Shift, or, A Season 8 Klance Coda

chapter 5

Again, and a bit less unexpectedly than the last time, Keith comes back to the farm with me. We're late enough that Jack has gone home, and he's done most of the chores, but as there's still a lot of light left I take Keith around and point out some of the farm landmarks -- the clump of trees where the goats often end up, the stream that runs through one of the lower fields -- and get him to throw feed to the chickens. They will have already eaten with Jack, but they're greedy things, and this double dinner can just be a one-off special treat for them.

When I come back from the rounds of gate-checking, I find Keith in the barn with Kaltenecker. He looks up and gives me a smile while scratching her head. "Help with dinner?" I ask.

"Sure. You tell me what to do."

I set him to chopping green vegetables and onions -- he can be the one who cries this meal prep, and he does -- and I make rice and grill some pork. Mom would have marinated it overnight and used a dozen ingredients; I squeeze some lemon on it and add mint and let it sit for as long as it takes me to show Keith how not to slice his fingers off when using a kitchen knife.Dinner's quiet; not bad-quiet, just quiet-quiet. I think we're both worn out after the past few days, although I'm kind of wired at the same time.

"Want to play a round of cards?" I suggest, after we've finished cleaning up.

Keith looks like he's thinking about it, but says, "Nah, I'm gonna crash."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

And as soon as my head hits the pillow, I do crash.

##

When I get up in the morning and wander out of my room, still in T-shirt and boxers, Keith's sitting at the table, dressed for the day, left hand tapping out a nervous staccato. Definitely not internal music. A coffee mug is already washed on the sink. His travel bag is next to the front door.

"Lance," he says, standing up and holding out his right hand to shake. "It's been good to catch up."

What? "You're leaving?"

"Yeah. Lots of things to do. The Blade. Of Marmora. The Coalition. So many things."

"Oh. You can't stay a few more days? It's not terrible having you here. Maybe even slightly better than not terrible."

"I can't stay." Keith looks at his feet, then at me. "You know, what I said about Allura -- I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to turn you against -- I would never --" He stops, starts again. "You were kind of right about one thing you said. I was jealous." He takes a breath. "She had you."

Things finally click into place. I understand now what Keith wants, what he's wanted for a long time. And I understand what I want. "I won't forget Allura." Keith's shaking his head: No, of course. "But you've always made me feel" -- I think of Keith with his serious leader face on, Keith cradling me when I've fallen, Keith insulting me, Keith shirtless after a shower -- "a lot of things." It's not how I felt with Allura, not at all; now, most of all I feel alive again, in a way I haven't since -- since I used to be around Keith, I realize. Then I suddenly worry -- this isn't Keith and Veronica and whoever else just trying to, as they think of it, cheer me up, is it? Just saying things to make me feel good about myself because they're worried I'm in a funk? "This staying a few extra days or -- maybe something more -- the offer's there, but I don't want this out of pity."

In response Keith closes the three steps between us and pulls me into a hug so tight that our knees are pressed together, and our shoulders. And all points in between. The seconds lengthen, stretch out.

I break the silence. "Is that a Balmeran micro-crystal torch in your pocket?"

"No."

"Oh." I guess it isn't pity I'm detecting then. When we kiss, our noses bash together and it's awkward, and then it isn't.

Fade to black.

##

I card my fingers through Keith's hair, his head lying on my thigh. The touch on the short back and sides makes him shiver.

"Will you grow your hair longer again?" I ask.

"You want me to?"

"Yep. Definitely." Tugging on his earlobe makes him shiver again. "You can be my Mullet-Boy."

He lifts his head to look at me. "No."

"My Mullet-Boy."

Keith sighs and lowers his head again, and I laugh.