Keith woke up slowly, coated in warmth and buttery sunlight falling through his window. He didn't open his eyes for a few seconds, letting his body adjust to being awake, then realized that there was something else beside him in the bed, wrapped comfortably around him. Long, slim arms and a broad torso hugging him from behind, knees pressing against the hollows of his, the gentle rise and fall of a warm chest on his back. 

He moved slowly, deliberately, eyes closed as he gently slipped out of the embrace of the person behind him. Shit, I can't remember anything. His head pounded as he sat up, but the pain was forgotten when he turned and saw who the mystery someone in his bed was and, in a flash, everything came back to him. Lance's hot breath on his neck as he pinned him up against the door, his sly grin peeking around the shower curtain, the heat of his body as the curled up together to sleep. 

Lance looked angelic, hair sprayed over the pillow, lips slightly parted, caramel skin rising and falling slightly in the morning sun. His breath was loud and heavy, but at least he didn't snore. Keith bit his lip, looking away. What had last night been for Lance? Did it mean as much to him as it did to Keith? What did it even mean to Keith? 

To him, someone who'd never known a relationship like this, if that was what you could call whatever it was between them, this was foreign territory. He'd never shared a bed with someone, let alone blush under their eyes or want to hold their hand as they walked. He'd never wanted to lean over and kiss someone's smooth cheek as much as he did now. He'd never wanted to curl back up into someone's warmth and safety and comfort as much. He'd never wanted to kiss down someone's neck and feel their hands on his skin so badly. 

Blushing, Keith stood abruptly, making Lance groan softly in his sleep and roll onto his stomach, arms splayed wide over the width of the bed, the fine muscles in his back tensing smoothly as he stretched, then relaxing as he returned to deeper sleep. Keith ran a hand through his hair and winced. The painkillers he'd taken the night before hadn't done shit, so he swallowed two more and held his mouth under the kitchen sink faucet to wash them down. 

Keith glanced at the clock. 9:04. Hm. Decent. He wondered how long Lance slept in, if he was missing anything important, if he should wake him up... Thankfully, just then, a loud THUMP came from Keith's room, followed by a grumbled "OW."

Keith walked into his room to see Lance sitting on the floor, rubbing his elbow gingerly. He looked up, then blushed, embarrassed. Keith smirked, crossing his arms and leaning up against the doorframe. "Sleep well?" he asked smugly as Lance picked himself off the floor, wincing. 

"I'm not used to such a big bed. I was dreaming that it was a cloud," Lance mumbled, glaring at the queen-sized mattress. Keith coughed to hide his laughter, but Lance made a face at him even still. Frowning, Lance rubbed his head. "God, what happened last night? I feel like shit."

Keith tossed him a bottle of Aleve and a plastic water bottle, which Lance caught with surprising agility despite his state. "You don't remember?" Keith asked curiously, assuming that, just like his own, Lance's memory would resurface in a minute or two. Lance shook his head, then nodded thanks at Keith for the pills as he swallowed them. 

The two headed into the kitchen and Keith turned on the Keurig to make coffee for the two of them and Lance nodded at the couch, which still had a bundle of blankets on it from the night before when Keith had set up a bed for himself. "You didn't have to sleep on the couch, Mullet. I promise I don't snore," Lance laughed, flopping down into one of the seats at the tiny kitchen table. 

Keith blanched. He doesn't even remember that we slept in my bed together? Would it be creepy to tell him now? Would he think that I did something to him while he slept? Would he lose any and all trust in me and think I was a creep for sleeping in the same bed as him when we're both drunk? Would he assume we fucked?? Lance looked at him expectantly and Keith floundered for a lie. "Uh, no, it's fine. The couch 's super comfy." SHIT, WHY WOULD YOU LIE? 

Lance shrugged. "Suit yourself."

For the rest of the morning, as Keith and Lance amicably drank their coffee out on Keith's tiny balcony, washed their clothes from the night before in the laundry room in Keith's apartment's basement, and nursed their hangovers. Keith kept expecting Lance to remember what had happened the night before, but every time he subtly prodded, Lance provided no answer. Keith was beginning to worry that he was going crazy, that he dreamed the whole thing up and that he'd passed out on the couch, just like Lance had said. 

When Lance had to go to his dance studio,  he hugged Keith tightly from behind, kissed his cheek, and strolled out the door like there wasn't a problem in the world. Keith stood in the center of his apartment, dumbstruck. 

...

"What do you mean he doesn't remember? That sounds pretty memorable to me."

Keith faceplanted into Hunk's couch, letting out a loud sigh. "I DON'T KNOW."

The band was lounging in Hunk's basement, the adrenaline of their practice still running through their veins. Keith's fingers were sore and blistering from how long they'd been playing and his voice had gone all croaky and raspy from singing. Pidge was sitting on the floor, slumped over his synth as he scratched notes on blank staff paper, his large glasses sliding slowly down the bridge of his nose.

Hunk was finishing the last of the spinach artichoke dip with one hand, the other scrolling through something on his computer, and Shiro was sprawled over the couch cushions next to Keith, eyes closed and brows furrowed as he air-guitared a difficult riff in one of the song's they'd been playing, trying to get the notes right in his head. 

Hunk abruptly sat forward, nearly dropping out the tortilla chip loaded with cheesy, artichoke-y, gooey goodness he had been about to eat. "Oh my god, guys."

"What?" Shiro asked, opening one eye as his fingers continued to move on his imaginary bass. 

Hunk tapped around on his computer for a second and Keith took the opportunity to snatch the loaded chip from his hand, Hunk barely noticing as his eyes scanned over his screen with increasing enthusiasm. "Guys, we have to do this."

"Do what?" Shiro asked again, dropping his hands to his chest and looking over at Hunk. 

Hunk's eyes were like saucers. "Battle of the Bands."

Keith's stomach dropped. "No. No, no, no--"

Hunk stood, puffing his chest out as he read from his screen. "'The twenty-third annual Battle of the Bands will be held this September, welcoming any and all performers wishing to show off their skills to compete for the Battle Champions title, ultimate bragging rights, and, of course, the coveted golden hippo, along with 50% of all donations received at the event. Applicants must submit one recorded sample of an original track under five minutes long by the end of June, and 15 applicants will be chosen from the pool to perform a three-song set at the Battle by early July. Best of luck, and let the best band win!'"

Keith, Shiro, and Pidge stared up at Hunk. The light in his eyes was indescribable. Hunk looked down at his bandmates, all smiles and warmth, the hope and brightness so clear on his face it was hard to look at.

Hunk was pure sunshine, radiating, genuine, nurturing. He was the heart of the band, the one who kept all of them together no matter what, the one who made the most sacrifices for them and the one who did so with the least amount of complaints, if any. 

He had given up countless hours finding sheet music for each of the members, used his own house as their practice spot since they started, made them food every night they practiced, all while managing to be one of the best small-town drummers Keith had ever heard. He was all passion with zero hesitation. 

Keith looked away, unable to face Hunk. It was like looking directly into the sun. Sometimes he felt so... inferior. Why should he, of all people, have the chance to bask in that light? Someone like him, who was happy to sit back, or to complain, or to slack off. Hunk always threw himself into the things he loved full-force, no looking back, eyes set on the horizon. 

A bolt of shame shot through Keith's heart and he almost winced. Hunk was smiling. "What do you think?"

Keith sat up, pushed aside the ridiculous fears of performing that he knew he'd have to face eventually, and smiled back at Hunk the best he could. 

"Yeah. Let's do it."

...

hey guyssssssss

wow it's already october!! feels like september just started yesterday, but here we are in spooky season. i'm rewatching haikyuu so i can watch the new part that just came out, and i forget how much i love all the characters haha

i know that the group of you who come back and read every chapter when i update is small, but i really truly do appreciate each and every one of you with my whole heart. i know the voltron fandom is pretty dead, if not completely, and my works may not interest you the way they used to, but thank you for giving me the chance to write this story the way it was supposed to be written, to fix all the mistakes i made with it the first time around

i owe you guys everything

qotd: what have u guys been watching recently? movies or shows or anything haha

love u all <33