Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“They all have finished the warmup round. All the drivers are making their way to the starting line.”

Several cars passed by, stopping eventually at their respective positions.

“We have James Griffin at P1, Bandor Naylar at P2, Nadia Rozavi at P3, Lance McClain at P4……..”

Lance McClain, member and prodigy driver of the Voltron team drove along with other competitors in this year’s season.

“Will we see Lance McLain on the Top 3, after the qualification yesterday he and Griffin seem to have some tension in the course”

The sixteenth race of the season was about to start, and the crowd was filled with anticipation and enthusiasm.

“Well after all, Matthew, let’s remember that The Voltron driver is one of the best racers. The Voltron team is his first team ever in F1, and during the course of the two years he has spent with them he has taken Jame’s title for best first racer and destroying his ego”

Lance had not been competing for so long, but was making incredible progress building up his reputation.
He was already pretty well-known, and had successfully climbed to the highest ranks.

“Also, they both are really close on the World drivers championship, the difference are mere points. If Lance wins this race it would give him a big advantage over Griffin.”

“And that is why we're here today after all, folks!”

“The race is about to begin, hold on to your seats, people, it will be amazing!”

***

The engine rumbled like a lion below him. Lance’s nerves were spiked — he felt exhilarated. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he focused on avoiding the other’s cars, rushing by and climbing up the leaderboard.

“Okay, Lance,” Allura spoke into his ear through the intercom, “Keep up like that, James is the only person in front of you. Be patient, and wait for an opportunity to pass him. See if in the next turn you can make it.”

When James approached the curve, Lance pushed onto the accelerator, but kept it careful. Patience. He got to be side by side with James. He passed him.

But before he could completely put some distance between them, Lance heard an abnormal sound, something he had never heard before, his car started swerving, he was losing control.

“Fuck” that was all Lance could say before the world was spinning around him.

He gripped the steering wheel with his life, trying anything he could think of to get the car straightened, and then, it went dark.

***

All the cheering sounds were replaced by a deafening silence.

“What just happened?”

Silence

“The red flag is out, people! Lance McClain has just crashed!”

***

“We haven’t heard any news of the racer Lance McClain in the past several weeks, after his crash, he was rushed to the hospital-“

Click

“-the Voltron team has fallen behind after the accide-“

Click

“The race was cancelled short after the crash of-“

Click

“-McClain’s accident has been topic of a lot of Speculation, but very little info has been let out, we only know of heavy burns and-“

Click

“-the details of the case are not public and the voltron team is yet to make a statement about McClain’s recovery-”

Click

“And James Griffin has won the season’s championship! What a-!”

Click

Lance changed the channel once again.

Finally, a tele-novela was playing on the TV, but Lance really didn’t care what was happening there either.

He changed the channel again.

And again, and again.

The TV suddenly turned off. His dad stood next to it, crossing his arms and frowning down at Lance, who was draped over the couch.

“Lance, we’ve talked about this,” he said, “you can’t keep this up.”

Lance groaned dramatically, draping further over the couch. He turned away from his father.

“Lance,” his dad repeated sternly.

“I don’t wanna talk,” he mumbled.

His dad sighed, and crossed the room, “Look, kid, I understand you’re not feeling…” Lance has always known his parents. They were the ones who made soup on hot days, and did your favorite dishes on the bad ones. They’re also trying to make you open up to them, while solving your problems like it’s the easiest thing ever and… let's say his mum isn't happy to be making rice everyday because of him.

“Pa, please, I don't wanna talk today,” he insisted, getting a few weird and sad looks from his father while he tried to find his cellphone in a dramatic way, taking him a few seconds to find it. “Pucha.”

“Lance, come on, I’m trying, bud! What if we call Katie and Hunk and we make dinner, would that cheer you up? You need to see daylight, go somewhere that isn't the bathroom. One day, these creams for your face will run out and I will not go and buy more for you! Put that phone to use and call them.”

“I think I will use TikTok until my eyes fall off or my body turns into dust.”

An uncomfortable silence took over, Lance could see the conflict in his dad's head, his thoughts running between throwing Lance out of the couch and burning it, or trying to have a civil and not very useful conversation with his son.

“Hijo, have you talked to someone? Maybe someone in your team?”

“No.”

His dad made his way to the couch and sat next to his son. The couch made a squeaky sound in the process, being the only sound that could be heard, except from the sounds of his family upstairs.

“Your mum and I think it would be good if you visited a psychologist, you could talk about maybe…” his dad was having a hard time getting it out, “the accident, about how you feel. Get all of the, uh ... I don't know what to call it, mhh… trauma out, I guess?”

Lance looked down at his hands. His gut clenched, he missed the feeling of the steering wheel, the weird talks with Pidge where they discussed if Mario Kart Grand Prix existed in real life, which one would he race or which character would be known for being problematic in the courses. The late night conversation where Lance could open up to Hunk and mention how nervous he was for a race, and Hunk standing there with a big smile and warm hugs, he really is like a care bear. He misses his team a lot.

“Okay, Pa. Maybe this time you are onto something…” Lance made a sad smile towards his father.

“This time!?” His dad raised his voice in a teasing way. “¡Niños de estos días que creen que tienen la razón por andar tanto tiempo en el Tiki toke!”

Lance laughed for the first time in a week, since the… you know what. His dad made his way towards the stairs

“Gracias, pa”

“Para eso están los papás, no?”

***

After another few weeks and several talks with his parents, Lance agreed to go to therapy, something he wasn't very interested in. Talking your problems with some stranger that could perfectly publish all of your problems on the internet wasn't something Lance was comfortable with.

But taking that risk was better than having both his parents bothering him about his mental health and bla bla. So he eventually went to the therapist, a bit hesitant about the idea, but he was rather expecting to get something good out of it. Perhaps the specialist would encourage him to talk with his parents about what he wanted, that it was his life and that he was willing to take the risks, because it’s what makes him feel.

Lance took the public bus. He sat on the back of the bus while keeping his head down, using a lovely, and his best, blue cap to cover his eyes. The comfy and worn out jacket that his mum said made him look more handsome than usual. Looking like a total creep, yes, but like his mum says, "mejor muerto que sencillo”. He had been avoiding going out since the accident, and didn't want anyone to spot him and want to get information out of him.

As he got off the bus and approached the building, anxiousness started to build up in his gut. He needed to get his shit together. He pushed open the door, exchanged some words with the receptionist and was quickly ushered to a room.

***

Lance was furious, resented, and honestly, he felt betrayed.

He opened the door and took off his cap, holding it tightly. His parents were in the kitchen, and heard him enter.

“Lance, mijo!” his mamá called out for him.

He sighed roughly and headed straight for them.

“How did it go? Did they give you those fancy paper cups? Have you changed your mind abo-“

“How could you?” was the first thing Lance said as he saw them. “You- you talked to her prior, right? This was your plan all along.”

His parents stared at him like if he just started talking about astro science. “Cariño, we don't know what you are talking abou-”

“I mean, dunno. Let me tell you the story! I went to talk to my psychologist, to ‘open up’,” he stated with air quotes, words flying out at a desperate rate, “I was starting to do it, when she suddenly asked me about what I will do now that I won't race.”

“Lance, hijo, listen!” his father raised his voice. But Lance was old enough, he held his ground, he's not oblivious anymore, he wanted this for himself. “We’re been trying to support you in your decisions.”

“Don't lie to me!” he responded, “I knew you never wanted me to race, but this… taking my accident as an opportunity to stop me from racing. Talking to MY psychologist so she- fuck, this is so fucking messed up!”

“You do not talk to us like that,” his father boomed as he stood up from a stool, “So you better control yourself and know what’s good for you.” He added, punctuating each work with an accusing finger. “Lance, as your parents, we cannot let you do that to yourself.”

“It’s my life!” Lance’s voice broke at this point. He wasn’t getting any more support, but he needed to get it out, “I am not a child, I can perfectly take care of myself and make my own decisions, which is to race, even if it kills me.” Lance gritted his teeth tightly, trying to keep his tears at bay.

They all stood there, in a cold silence, defying glares from Lance to them both.

“Well, if you think you are so mature, thinking this decision is the one, then don't expect us to follow you with it.”

There really wasn’t much more to say. Lance just turned in his heel, and retreated to his bedroom. He avoided slamming the door, just for good measure.

Lance pulled out his phone, and sat down against his bed, curling up into his jacket and shakily scrolling for a certain contact. He typed something, received a message back, and his phone was quickly ringing.

He picked up.

“Hunk,” is all Lance could breathe out.

“Hi, buddy.” Hunk, his best friend for all eternity. Just hearing his voice made Lance desperately need him there, physically there, but for now, his voice was what was comforting him.

Lance didn’t reply yet, just squeezing his eyes and finally letting some tears fall.

Hunk probably heard his shaky breathing. Lance spoke softly, “Can I come over- stay over for tonight?” He wiped his eyes, “I’m sorry it’s just.”

“Of course, buddy, anytime,” he replied, “Do you also want a certain pigeon with us tonight?” Lance slightly chuckled, imagining the bright smile Hunk was probably displaying. Hunk laughed back.

Lance hummed in response, “Yes, I’d like that.”

Lance and Hunk have an unquestionable friendship. They always supported each other, hearing the other out and basically knowing each other like a part of themselves. So Hunk, naturally, knew what might’ve happened with Lance in that moment, so he didn’t pressure Lance by any means. Lance couldn’t thank him more.

Chapter Text

Lance arrived at Hunk's place, he knocked and waited for an answer… and waited… and waited a bit more until the door was open. Hunk, his best friend and his brother from another mother. Not being able to talk for months had been killing Lance, so when he saw the figure of his best friend, he couldn't resist but to throw himself at Hunk's arms. The hug was full of tears (mostly from Hunk), and love. The scent of food filled his nose. Then, without even really talking, they both walked in. Hunk's place wasn't too big, but it felt like home and that warm feeling that you get when you eat cookies and milk. Lance put together the table while Hunk finished the dinner with no words exchanged but it was nice, no tension, just understanding. They later started eating together, and after 10 minutes of silence, a loud knock was heard.

“Come on, Hunk! Open up! We must talk about what our plan will be when we face Lance!” Lance could recognize that voice everywhere, a pitchy voice with a sprinkle of sassyness, and God, did he miss it.

“I was thinking that we ignored him for the first 30 minutes so he can feel how we felt when he disappeared, that son of a bi-” at that moment Hunk opened the door for Pidge to come inside.

“THANK YOU, IT WAS ABOUT TIME FOR YOU TO OPEN UP- Wait… did you make pasta?! Great! As I was saying, I have a plan that we should look at together, so we can know how we will proceed. I called it BAI, Blue’s Asshole Issu- ” They made their way inside the apartment just to be greeted with Lance licking the sauce out of the plate.

“…”

“Hey, Pidge...”

“...”

“Ah, come on Pidge don't be rude,” said Hunk, grabbing a clean plate and putting some pasta in it, “Come on, eat.”

Pidge stood there looking at the very interesting floor, being both mad and embarrassed.

“Pidge-” Lance tried to start, but they interrupted him.

“Hunk, can you say to Mr. McMclain that I won't be speaking to him, until a witness is present?”

“What am I, Hermes-?” Hunk said, but Lance intervened, “Hunk can tell Pidge that they are being an immature ass and they are acting like a 8 year old.”

“Atleast, 8 year old kids don't leave their friends blank for over 4 months!”

Lance looked down at his plate. “You're right, Pidge. I am sorry, I-I need time… to think, to be mad at the accident and everyone else around me. To be sad and not bring everyone down with me… I should have texted, do you forgive me?”

Pudge- look at Lance dead in the eyes, a combination between a pigeon and an owl. They always had that kind of look when they tried to scare people off or to keep themselves from crying.

“I bought the DLC of Mario Kart 8, and also MKW if you wanna play-” Pidge threw themselves to Lance, who was still sitting in a chair. “Just don't you ever, ever do that again, or I will throw away all of your creams and I will cut your hair in a buzz cut”

Lance hugged them back. “Sure, pidgeon”

After some time of Lance yapping about what has been of his life in the past few months, the betrayal of his life - aka the physiologist accident - and the fight with his parents, Hunk and Pidge were a bit shocked but not surprised.

“Okay, Lance.. I know that we are against your parents, but, you cannot deny them the fact that your accident could have killed you, don't you think maybe they have a bit of reason?” Hunk said and Pidge agreed with a nod while they were beating Lance's ass on MK

“Yeah, I know- FUCK, WHERE DID THAT BANANA CAME FROM”

“JAJA, eat my banana sucker! Potassium!” Pidge put their hands in the air while the Trophy of #1 was displayed on the screen. Toad being Pidge’s main and being first of the leader board, while Lance’s Peach stood on second place “Anyways, Lance, I think a better question is if you are going to race again”

“Probably… I don't know… I still have to go to physical therapy and-... How is the team after I left?

Hunk and Pidge gave each other a look before answering “Well like you probably already know, James won the driver's championships and Voltron lost the engendering Championship.. we haven't been winning any points so we are the last few teams that are in the actual championship of this year… The Galaxy Garrison being on top” Hunk explain with a sad tone

“BUTT! Bandor Naylar, from the Colony Abyss, signed a contract with Voltron for next year as a racer… and if you could.. it would be great to have you and him together. The Voltron team could actually have a team to win the championship!”

“Mh, Brandor, that's interesting. He is a good driver. I don't know if I could race next year, though-. Wait, isn't the CA a brother team with Voltron?”

“Yes! Just think about it, Lance. Anyways I should get going. It was nice to catch up, next time you need someone to put you in your place in MK call me, okay?

“Sure, Pidge, keep lying to yourself”

They hit Lance’s head and made their way out of the apartment, not before grabbing 3 Tupperwares with Hunk's food.

A few minutes after Pidge left, Hunk stood up from the couch. “Okay, Lance, I must go to sleep. You can take the guest room.”

Lance didn't move. “Are you sure that it is okay that I stay over?”

Hunk laughed a bit and put a soft smile on his face along with a “obviously, what a dumb question” look. He started to make his way to his room, he suddenly stopped. “Lance, about what Pidge said, why don't you give it some thought?
We all miss you, and I know you miss us back, not only us, also racing. If you don't want to race again that’s cool, but Lance, you have a talent, not only in racing. The way you connect with people, with your friends is something not everyone can do. Don't drift away from us… because of the team but also because nobody should be alone-“

“I will do it”

Hunk laughed and walked in his room. “Goodnight, buddy” he said and closed the door, leaving Lance with his thoughts.

***

“Okay, Hunk! I am going out, I will come back in 2 hours max!

Lance and Hunk have been roommates (or at least the closest thing you can call them, because Hunk isn't in town most of the time) since Lance called that night. It was mid season break, which meant that Hunk and Pidge were back. While they were away Lance did all sorts of things, like playing Mario Kart, finding new games, seeing F1 and thinking that if he was behind that wheel, his team would be on the top. Most of his activities were things he hadn't done since the accident, like going running, something he always liked doing, especially between races, when he could.

So now, he was going for a run. His physical therapist told him that his leg was pretty good and that it had been healing great. On the other hand, there were his scars. He hated them, he really didn't want to look at the mirror when he was going to take a shower. Plus, the accident had not only given him a broken leg and burn scars which he detested, it also gave him a broken pinky toe, but that information didn't have to be revealed to the public.

Talking about the public, the Voltron team made their declarations about Lance's conditions and well-being. Given the news that Lance is coming back to the team for next year's season. His parents haven't texted him or anything for a while, only his siblings.

But he is not going to think about sad stuff while he is running, he just needs to run faster, stronger. He needed to show to everyone that he could come back to F1 and still be the best version of himself. He needed to be brave so they don't notice how worried he is about not being as good as before.. before the accident. He needed to be the best so his decision of being a F1 racer wouldn’t be in vain or seen as a horrible decision, like his parents think it is.

Each second that passed he went faster, and faster and faster. He could feel the sun on his face, the warm weather of August, the ground underneath him, the beat of his heart against his ribs. He stopped next to a tree, trying to catch his breath. He needed to be more.

***

“Good day, Lance! How have you been? How is the leg doing?”

Lance was sitting in those uncomfortable chairs that hospitals/clinics put in their waiting rooms, which really doesn’t make sense because why would you put such an atrocity in a place where you need to spend long periods of time, but anyways. He stood up and walked towards his physical therapist. Dr Borbon was a kind man, but Lance always wondered what his first name was, like, look at the man's last name, the first one couldn’t be any better. So Lance just calls him doc or Dr. Borbon or he just invents random names on the spot.

“I think everything has been good,” said Lance while standing up and walking towards him.

“That's good, come in. Today’s check up shouldn’t be long”

They both walked inside, and did the normal checkup they always do every week. Walking, balance, Dr Borbon checking if everything on Lance's leg is alright, Etc,.
Lances had the jeans of his left leg rolled up so the doctor could check his knee. The sir with no name suddenly spoke up.

“So, I have seen on TV that you are coming back to the F1, do you feel ready?”

Lance tense up, it wasn’t a topic he was really into talking, especially with his doctor. “Yeah, I will be starting again next season… Sorry for not asking for your input if my leg was good enough to start again”

“It is not my decision to make, but your leg is healing pretty quickly, you probably all set for March of that year. Just remember that you should be careful with it, I don’t want to see you here with another fracture in the leg.”

Lance laughed a bit “I hope so”.

“Lance, even if your leg is alright, do you think it’s a good idea for you to come back so quickly to racing? I mean, we all saw it on TV it was a bad accident-

“I am ready! I don’t need time”

Dr. Borbon started at Lance, even if this man was only a physical therapist, Lance could feel him reading Lance like an open book

“Maybe you should go to therapy. Not only do you need to take care of your physical health, you also need your mental health to be okay.”

“I am fine, I don’t need help”

“I do know a great psychologist, maybe you coul-“

“I said I am fine!…”…

“Okay”

Lance stood up, rolling the clothing of his leg down. “I should leave, it's late. Thank you for your help, doc” with that Lance left the hospital. God, he really hates them.

Lance rushed towards his shared apartment, how did this doctor with a weird name dare to tell Lance he needed therapy. He tried it and it blew in his face, so yes he wasn’t kind to the idea of it. When he walked in the apartment he grabbed the switch and went directly to his room. He can do this, he will come back and win the championship, for him and his team. He will train harder and practice more.

So that's how Lance started to train more by running, doing weights, etc,. This will be the year of Lance McLain and he will prove to everyone (especially a mango headed guy) that he is one of the best racers this decade will ever see on TV.

***

And after all, Lance finally managed to get back into racing. It had been a long process, but hey, not everything’s impossible and Lance knew himself, and he’s stubborn as heck. He’s proud of his friends, their support and help and understanding, but he was also proud of himself. Proud that he managed to go on with his life, his dreams.

As Lance re-entered the (whatever that might be called) for the first time in (amunt of time i dunno), he was expecting to feel nervous and anxious, but was actually met with a warm and friendly feeling.

As he walked deeper, he greeted every single person that saw him. Excitement started to rise in him. He chatted with anyone he could, and tried to catch up with them (not really though, there were many people and he was a man on a mission).

At the main panel, he saw his closest friends. Allura spotted him first, and the look on her face of amusement had Lance cracking up and headed towards her. They met halfway, Allura giving him the biggest hug she could. Hunk and Pidge were also there, and they joined the hug too.

It felt so comforting being close to them all once again. He resented himself for having set them apart for so long. They’d all often offer to see him, go out someplace, but Lance constantly refused. He refused to leave his own place, afraid of being reminded of all the things that he’d do wrong and all he could no longer do. But they were understanding friends, and respected his boundaries, but now, he was back with them, and it felt exhilarating.

Lance was thrilled and smiling like a maniac. Gosh, how had he missed them.

“Lance! Oh, Lance, we’ve missed you so much!” Allura exclaimed, as she let go of the hug now.

“I’ve missed you all so much, too,” he replied, trying to hold back his tears of excitement. Lance felt a hand clap on his back. Shiro.

As soon as Lance saw him, he turned to him, fazed, and then Shiro gave him a big hug. Lance was ecstatic.

“Glad you’re back, kid.”

“I’m so glad to be back,” he grinned back at Shiro.

They all conversed and laughed for a while, and then Coran finally showed up with a couple of people, and when he saw Lance, he greeted Lance with animation. Coran had also played an important part in Lance’s growth at the start of his racing career, giving him motivation. Lance had even grown to consider Coran as an uncle… just a funky, enthusiastic, unpredictable uncle.

“My boy! We’ve missed you all this time! It’s stupendous that you’re back,” Coran chirped, “Now, now, let me introduce you to some new people on the team!”

While Lance was absent, the Voltron Team had not been going great, in terms of racing, so they had had to ring up new people, new additions to reinforce this team and keep it going. Among those people,

“These are Bandor and Romelle Naylar!” he started, “Bandor is a driver, a racer, along with you, Lance! Oh, it's so great. And Romelle will be part of the Pits and mechanic team!”

Lance beamed at them, and introduced himself to the siblings. If Lance was being honest, he loved meeting new people, and making new experiences.

“It’s so good to have you on the team, I’m sure you’ll have a blast here.” Lance said, still giddy with excitement.

Time ticked by, and Lance talked and talked with his friends about anything ever. Coran had explained the previous situation, so he told Lance to expect new people around the place, and hopefully, to get to know them.

Hunk and Pidge had ended up walking around the place with Lance, chatting and joking with each other.

“Hey, Lance, wanna check out your car?” Pidge randomly said.

Lance gaped at them, and Pidge chuckled along with Hunk, “Of course, I’d love to!”

They eventually ended up in the garage, where Lance’s new car was being tampered.

It was still kinda far but Lance could see the car. It was suspended in the air, glistening with new materials. Blue and black were the main colors on the car, and several brands decorated its surface. He was mesmerized by all the finely crafted wings on the car, he could see the immaculate work on them, polished and sturdy. Lance felt a surge of anticipation to the day he’d be able to drive this beauty, feel the downforce of the wind keeping him on the track, and appreciate its velocity. As they approached, he could see a person’s back, who was working on the motor or something Lance couldn’t get to see.

The closer they got, the more detail Lance perceived, and that detail included this person. They were wearing a white shirt (ironic to Lance, because working with cars does get you dirty with all its oils), a worn overall, boots, and a mop of black hair pulled into a very messy ponytail.

Lance, Hunk and Pidge stopped by the entrance of the garage, the two latter not wanting to interrupt the mechanic. Lance observed and observed, and his eyes registered how attractive this person’s body seemed to be. Strong arms, toned back, and that narrow waist they posed. He whistled and raised his eyebrows to his friends.

“Who the heck is she?” Lance said, amused, “is she new?”

Hunk opened and closed his mouth, and looked over at Pidge. They exchanged mischievous glances and hid their grins.

“Yeah, there’s many new people. You can go meet her,” Pidge said, trying not to laugh as they finished their sentence.

“Great,” Lance replied, oblivious to his friends, he threw a couple finger guns at them, then a wink and he started to walk over to the subject confidently. Hunk and Pidge snickered behind him.

Lance cleared his throat, “Hi there, gorgeous, are you lightning? ‘Cause you’ll be McQueen.”

The said ‘girl’ raised their head, a horrified look on their face and oh. Oh, the girl’s a man. And to Lance, quite frankly, a very handsome man. Lance had to reel back for a second, but soon recovered and kept his composture, leaning against a beam.

“…Who are you?”

Wait, what? “Who am I? Uh, the name’s Lance?”

The man in question didn’t reply, and just stared dumbfounded.

Lance blinked, baffled, “Lance McClain?” he put his hands over his hips, “Doesn’t ring a bell?”

The guy just stared at him, and raised a thick brow. “No.”

“Really?” Lance asked, “Lance, Lancey Lance, best racer of the century? Great personality, super talented and super handsome?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

The guy replied with just a scrunch of his nose and disinterested look in his eyes, is he wearing eyeliner on his lower eyelids?

“Cuban?” Lance offered, and not even that got him a response.

Lance was honestly stunned and offended. This guy is fixing his car, he’s the flipping driver of the car! How could he not know? Lance rubbed a hand over his face, breathing in, he spoke, “Dude, I’m Lance McClain, the driver to the car you are currently tinkering with,” he emphasized with his hands, eyebrows high up his forehead.

The other guy didn’t react like Lance expected, he just kept his frown, opened his mouth, then closed it in a pout and nodded slowly, “Oh-kay then, congratulations. Now can you please just let me work?”

“Okay, rude, ” Lance started, shoving a finger on the other’s chest, “I’ll go for now, but soon you’ll see who Lancey is,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The dark haired boy rolled his eyes and huffed, turning back to the car, deciding now to ignore Lance’s reprimands.

Lance scoffed and turned to go back to his friends, who were trying very hard to hold back their laughter. Pidge miserably failed, and snorted, causing Hunk to break too.

“Guys! C’mon why didn’t you tell me?” Lance whined as they walked away from the garage.

“Tell you what exactly?”

“Uh, that that’s a guy and that he’s super rude?”

Hunk controlled his giggles, “That’s name is Keith, and he’s not that bad, Lance, he’s a cool guy. Besides, it was a pretty funny interaction.”

“I agree with Hunk,” Pidge said, “ten outta ten, please let it happen again.”

Lance groaned in response, “Can we just forget about this?”

Hunk placed an apologetic hand on his shoulder, and grinning, he denied.

Chapter Text

Lance was now finally behind the wheel, even if it was just for a couple trail runs. He was giddy with excitement, adrenaline starting to find its place again, flowing through his veins like lightning.

It's been more than a year since Lance has driven, well, that is, if you don't count his new amount of hours in Kirby AirRiders, Sonic Racing, Asphalt, Gran Turismo, a random F1 simulator he found, that had graphics of a bank camera, and, obviously, MK. That one will always be in his heart.

He gripped tightly the steering wheel, and breathed in. He pressed his eyes shut. Oh, had he missed this feeling. He let his body soak in every feeling he perceived. The solidness of the car’s structure, the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze. He can do this.

“Okay, Lance, just drive around, don't rush or anything.” Allura chirped through the comms into his ear. “We’re just starting to experiment with the new car. You got this.”

He opened his eyes, “Don’t you worry about a thing, princess,” and he revved up the motor.

Lance was soon dashing around the track, his mind completely focused on driving. He turned the wheel, shifted gears, accelerated or pressed the brakes, he felt like he was flying. Flying through the track like a bird again. On the track, he was free. No one to grab his arm and hold him back, to put down his spirits and dreams, to stomp his hopes, to tell him that it wasn’t a good future. The blur of things that passed him started to be dizzying, and the speed too much. When has it ever been enough? In a moment, Lance’s heart thumped in his chest much more aggressively than before, his breathing unstable; he started to drown, started feeling like if he was spinning again, the scorching heat on his back—

He took the car to his pit stop, trying to make his way out of the car as fast as he could. He took out the steering wheel and stepped out of the car, almost falling into his face. That would have been a lovely sight, was one of the million thoughts Lance had in his mind while he tried a couple times to pry his helmet off. He put it down and finally heaved. What just happened? He made his way inside the garage.

Soon, his friends and team were around him, asking him questions Lance couldn’t yet process nor answer.

“-ance, are you…”

“…happened? Is it-”

“…alright? Lance, look over.”

Lance’s eyes landed on Hunk, and he was finally reeled out of the blur of the water. He could finally breathe, he let the air fill his lungs to the brim, and he exhaled in response. Get a grip Lance, jeez, a heck lot of people are around. Lance had to act fast.

“People, people! Calm down! I am fine. I just needed a break. After all, stars like me, who shine all day, need a break. And let's say, I do more things than shining.” he said, winking at a random pit person, and watching them blush hot red. He heard a scoff from a random emo person, who he at the moment didn't have time to think about.

Everyone continued working, but he still felt this feeling of unease around him; he felt that cold sweat running down the back of his neck. What had just happened?

Hunk, who was right by his side, gave him a worried smile, “Hey, man, take a break, alright?”

Lance couldn’t bring himself to reply, but Hunk was the absolute sweetest friend.

Lance walked to his resting room, followed by Hunk. They both walked in his rest room and Lance threw himself to the couch.

“Lance, wanna talk about what just happened?”

“What do you mean? Nothing happened," said Lance, trying to keep his voice steady, not really making eye contact and with a goofy smile.

“Lance… please don't do that! You looked like you were about to cry and pass out. Don't lie.”

“Do what, Hunk?” Lance suddenly snapped, but managed to reel back quickly, “Nothing happened, it was allergies. You know the… sand of the Sahara is… stronger this year.”

“Lance, that is bullshit,” Hunk, his evercaring friend, spoke patiently, “you can talk to me, you don't need to hide.”

“I’m not hiding,” Lance muttered, Hunk kept listening, “everything is fine, just happy to be back behind the wheel. Many good memories! Soon enough, we will be on top of the competition with two beautiful ladies on our side,” he joked around, the feeling of fear breathing down his neck.

Hunk rolled his eyes, but didn’t really pressure him for more explanations, he eventually had to go, and walked out after giving Lance a soft smile.

Lance knew deep down he should tell Hunk. He could hear his mamá 's voice in his head, Mijo, no te guardes las cosas, que un día de estos no vas a aguantar más. But Lance did not want to talk about it. He’s gotten over it, he’s physically good to go again. Perhaps he’s just a little rusty.

***

At the end of the day, he had to go back home. He couldn't hide all day long, even if he didn't admit he was hiding. Lance grabbed his coat, his bag and made his way to the exit to go to the parking lot. Hunk and a girl — that if he wasn't wrong, was called Shay— were on a date, so Hunk gave Lance the car. Hunk told his best friend that Shay will give him a ride back to his home, so he could keep the car and that he shouldn't wait for him. Lance knew what that meant.

While he was walking towards the car (he was really having problems with the idea of driving right now), he noticed a red and black motorcycle. It was very pretty, shiny in all the right places, clearly taken much care of, the leather looked polished, and he wondered who’d ride this mo- and he suddenly bumped into someone.

“Mierda,” Lance exclaimed as he accidentally dropped his coat, “I washed it this morning…”

He decided to look at the person he bumped with. It was the mullet guy, with his perfect glare and- …yep, that’s really eyeliner.

“Oh, is the superstar. I thought that after that much needed break you wouldn't be as clumsy as before,” said Keith in a sarcastic voice, which Lance would’ve considered it as hot, but this guy has been a total jackass, and annoying as hell.

Lance looked at Keith while he picked up a helmet that was on the ground. Lance assumed that the helmet must have fallen when they bumped against each other. Keith straightened himself, fixing his dark leather jacket, and the helmet between the side of his torso and arm. Well, that answers his questions about the owner of the motorcycle.

“What do you want, mullet?”

“Mullet? What are you talking about,” Keith said confusedly.

“The thing that you have on your head?”

Keith frowned even deeper than before, did this guy have no other expressions? “I should be the one asking what you want. You were the one checking out my motor. Didn't know your love for engines was that big. Do you get flustered when you get on a bus?”

Lance’s cheeks blushed red, he pointed at Keith accusingly, “Listen, you-”

“What was that shit about you needing a break? You weren't even 10 minutes in the course.”

“What?” Lance got a bit pushed back, “I just needed a break, why do you care?”

“The car. Was it the car?”

“No, it wasn't-”

“Then what was it?”

“Mullet!” Lance groaned desperately, “You are being even more annoying than that eyeliner you’re wearing!”

“You have a problem with my hair and now eyeliner?”

“It’s a mullet, nobody has a mullet because they want to.”

He scoffed back, “Well, at least I don't have my hair all chopped and have split ends,” Keith walked towards his motorcycle, throwing a leg over it.

“How dare you?!” Lance yelled at him, “My hair is treated in the best way possible! My hair routine works!” Lance touched his hair while Keith rolled his eyes. Lance looked at Keith and he already had enough with this Emo Twilight wannabe.

“Listen, Amy Winehouse, I don't know what problem you have with me-” he was interrupted by the sound of the engine in the motorcycle starting. Keith put on his helmet. What pact with the devil did this asshole do to be this attractive?

Keith started to pull out of the parking spot.

“Hey!” Lance shouted, “I was talking to your greasy mullet!”

Keith put the shield of the helmet up.

“Sorry, last time I checked, stars couldn't talk, right, Sirius?

And he rode away, taking Lance’s patience with him.

“¡Este cara de tortilla!” Lance made his way into the driver's seat. “How dare he, who does he think he is?!” Lance put the car in reverse, putting an arm at the back the the passenger’s seat to look back, “I am Lance McClain, one of the best F1 drivers in this decad-”

‘If you were the best, you wouldn't have had the crash.’

Lance stopped what he was doing, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He couldn't move, he tried to get out of the parking spot, but he couldn't.

“Fuck.”

***

Lance found himself looking directly at a crash scene. How could this be happening? Last time he checked, he was laying in the backseats of Hunk’s car, he thought while looking at the torn apart car the crash had made. He couldn't look away, he felt the people rushing towards the car.

“It looks like Lance McClain had an accident on turn 7, we are checking for any information about what happened-” said the presenter when a loud explosion was heard.

The car turns into a ball of flame, consuming everything. Lance stopped breathing, is this what really happened or is he imagining it? The rescue team started turning down the fire, as a man took someone out of the car. Lance could see his back, he could notice a big burn on it, a living reminder that he was in that car.

They laid him on a medical carrier, put an oxygen mask in his face and started to take his body to a hospital. Lance got close to the body in the carrier. He could make out the body jawline, the way some parts of his racing suit were burned.

He stood next to his body.

‘This is your fault.’

Lance's head started to ring as they put the body in an ambulance.

‘Did you really think that coming back to racing will change the past?! Do you think your team believes in you after what happened? They pity you, they don't care about you. Your parents don't even talk to you anymore.’

“Shut up…” Lance pleaded as he grabbed his head.

‘You will always be a stupid, Cuban boy, who cannot do anything right.’

“No...”

‘Maybe you should have died in that accident. You aren't anything for anyone. Nobody loves you.’

“SHUT UP!” Screamed Lance as he sat up in the seat. His heart was racing.

“Fuck,” said Lance with his hands on his face. He heard a light tap on the window. He turned to face the window and saw Allura.

Lance made his way to the driver seat to start the car and turn down the window.

“Hey, princess! What do you need?” Lance tried to ignore the pounding in his chest.

“I was checking in on you. You looked like you were having a bad dream. Why are you sleeping in the car?” asked Allura.

“Nothing!” Lance said a bit too fast, he laid back on his seat. “When I was going home last night, the car wouldn't work properly, so I just stayed here.”

Allura nodded, with a bit of unsureness, “Are you sure, Lance?”

“Yes, beautiful!”

Allura rolled her eyes and walked towards the garage.

This was going to be a tiring day, but first, he needed to find a shower.

***

When he tried to walk in the garage undiscovered, he found a certain pigeon looking at him.

“Good morning, Pidge.”

“Good morning to you too, lovely gentleman! Look at you, wearing the same clothes as yesterday!” Pidge got close to Lance with a joking expression on their face. “Who did you hook up with? Someone in the team?!” They said in a whispering kind of yelling voice.

“What are you talking about?!” Lance yelped, “I didn't hook up with anyone. The car stopped working, I had to stay over the night,” Wow, he really was becoming good at this lying thing.

“Yeah, right,” Pidge replied, “Oh, well, Allura did mention that Hunk’s car was having trouble, maybe you could take it to Keith’s and tell him to take a look, please?”

“Me? Why me?” Lance jumped, “It’s not even my car!”

Pidge just gave him a pointed look, and Lance knew there was no winning this. He just sighed defeatedly and headed towards the car— again. All he wanted was to get back home and take a warm shower and mourn.

This time, it wasn’t as bad, and Lance could actually drive. It was a pretty small distance, and at a slow speed. He parked the car in the garage, got out of it, and spotted Keith. Ugh, this guy.

Keith turned when he heard the car’s door slam shut and took him in from afar. He probably noticed Lance’s dishevelment, but did not mention it. He walked over to Lance. Lance, as well, scanned his eyes over Keith, and it genuinely infuriated him how this guy managed to pull off the whole mechanic attire with seemingly zero effort. Why does he even wear fingerless gloves for?

“So, what’s up with the car?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lance looked at him dumbfoundedly, and it took him some seconds to actually get words out of his mouth, “Uh, it’s funky?” Good one, Lance. Keith just stared back, crossing his arms over his chest, demanding silently for Lance to elaborate. “I turned the car on and it sputtered and was going like,” he explained with several hand movements and making improvised sounds with his mouth. Keith winced. Lance started feeling more confident, “So, I simply decided to not drive this girl, in case it got worse. And here I am,” he finished, leaning on the car.

The dark haired boy actually looked impressed; he opened his mouth to speak, “And nothing of that happened now?”

Ah, shit.

Lance stumbled over his words, “I don’t know a damn about cars. It is not my job to know about them, it’s yours! Mine is to drive them,” he pointed at himself as he said, “So, I’m sorry if I don't know why and how the car stopped working!”

Keith just ignored him, and gave Lance his back to walk around the car, inspecting. And God knows if he checked Keith out or not. God knows if he looked at the way his arms flexed as he opened the hood of the car, the way his back muscles moved when he pulled mysterious car pieces out, was completely Lance’s business.

“Mh, Lance?” Keith said, retreating from the car.

Lance got snapped back from his thoughts, “Yes?”

“If it’s about the engine, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Then why didn't it work before?” He asked, trying to sound as defeated as possible.

“Maybe you didn't turn it on.”

“Are you saying, I, Loverboy Lance, forgot to turn the car on? Something I do everyday for a living,” he accused.

“Yep, pretty much.”

“You know what? I cannot deal with you being your greasy mullet without a proper bath to start my day.” He turned on his heel, “So fight however much you want with the car and I’m off.”

And he was indeed gone, leaving Keith confused and with a completely functioning car to tinker with.

After Lance had his well deserved shower, he walked down to the garage where Hunk’s car was. When he walked in, he was met with a beautiful sight, and he was not only talking of Keith with his hair up. The car has been cleaned and it happened to be so shiny!

“Holy moly! Who cleaned the car?! It looks so good. Hunk will be so happy with me!”

“I don't know, it was like that when I got here” he explained and walked away. “Pidge just came in asking for you, something about winning you in a game and Hunk making dinner.”

“Oh good…! Thanks for checking the car.”

Keith nodded and left, closing the door behind himself.

Lance stared at the door for a solid 5 minutes until Hunk called him.