When I first tried writing Klance, all my early drafts felt flat—like cardboard cutouts just reciting catchphrases. The mistake was thinking 'character depth' meant piling on tragic backstories right away. Actually, depth for them comes from tiny contradictions. Keith isn't just 'brooding and impulsive'; he's someone who’d meticulously polish his knife while his coffee goes cold, because focus is his comfort. Lance isn't just 'loud and insecure'; he practices jokes in the mirror, not just for laughs, but to rehearse a version of himself that doesn't feel like a seventh wheel.
I found stealing moments from the show's margins worked wonders. What was Lance doing during all those quiet flights in the Black Lion? Probably writing terrible poetry on his datapad. What does Keith do on the rare day off? He might visit that space-mall and get overwhelmed by the sock aisle, because growing up in the desert meant he never learned how to choose fun socks. Those aren’t plot points, they’re texture.
Start by writing a drabble about one of them teaching the other something utterly mundane—like how to fold a shirt the Altean way, or why that weird space-fungus is edible. The dialogue there, the little frustrations and quiet successes, will show you their voices faster than any epic battle scene. My best-received fic was literally just them trying to assemble IKEA-style furniture in the castle. It broke my writer's block because it forced them to interact without the fate of the universe at stake. Depth isn't always in the big declarations; sometimes it's in the way Keith frowns at an instruction manual while Lance hums a pop song, already knowing he'll have to fix Keith's mistakes later.
From there, just let their dynamic breathe. Don’t force the romance to adhere to a schedule; let it be a byproduct of them genuinely seeing each other's weird, specific corners.