an; ok. so this is a Klance fic I found on ao3. it was made in 2001. im asumming from the 80s Voltron. but like guys. the end. THAT SHIT HURTED. enjoy.
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Downtime by Todesengel on ao3
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There was only one thing that Keith hated about being a soldier: downtime. He lived in dread of this bimonthly occurrence, despised the institution. The very thought of downtime soured his mouth, twisted his stomach. It ruined his life, tainting his weeks with an ever-deepening depression, as he counted down the days until downtime occurred...and he was left all alone.
It wasn't that he didn't receive downtime as well; quite the opposite, in fact, for his leave passes were never used and became quite a bargaining tool when he wanted something done. No, the reason that he was always left alone, why he stayed behind to brood, was because he never truly understood this concept. He had never understood why his squad members felt the urge to leave the star cruiser, to seek pleasure in the towns and cities that they protected; never understood why they wanted to dance and drink, to listen to music and seek nightly companionship in the arms of a stranger.
For Keith had never known anything other than war. He had never known any music save the call of the charge, had only known the deadly, weaving dance of battle. The only drink that he craved was sweet battle-lust, the only companionship that of comrades-in-arms. The pleasures of peace eluded him, baffled him. The feelings of war comforted him.
He knew that these feelings were wrong, were unusual even among his own war torn people. But in his sixteen years of life, battle was everything to Keith. This was why he avoided the towns, why he avoided the peaceful and laboring citizens. Joy, calm, elation--these emotions frightened him, when felt anywhere but on the front. And he was afraid of himself, afraid of what he might do to regain the serenity of war.
And so it was no surprise to his old comrades that when downtime rolled around again, Keith disappeared into the bowels of the cruiser. He wanted no part of the joking, the underlying thrum of heady desire that ran through his friends playful banter. It seemed too much like war to him, too much like the tense thrill, the tight camaraderie fostered by battle.
But, there was only so much that one could do on a cruiser, and Keith had experienced enough recreation time to have explored every possible form of recreation that the ship had to offer. No, Keith needed a new occupation, a new means of occupying the three days that his friends had for leave. And that was how he found himself in the nearly empty brig, poking through the cells.
"Keith, my boy, you've officially flipped. What in the world are you doing down here, when you could be out with your friends?" Keith mused aloud, as he prowled down the rows of holding cells, eyes straining to pierce the gloom that pervaded this unused part of the ship. His voice echoed off the metal walls that amplified even the slightest whisper. "Why can't I just enjoy peace like the others?"
"Because peace is all too fleeting," a soft, unseen voice replied, low and husky, rough with disuse.
Keith jumped at the voice, fear sending cold shivers through his body. "Who said that?"
"No need to fear, little soldier. It is only I, Lance of Kent; the sole prisoner of this miserable construction." Lance's voice was bitter, angry and resentful. Keith's mouth ran dry, and he backed up a few steps at the rage in Lance's voice. "Please, do not leave. Keith? Is that your name, little soldier? A lovely name. A beautiful name. Surely, it is the name of a beautiful person, a person who would not leave his fellow man down here in the dark. Oh, Keith, I am so lonely down here. So very, very alone."
