Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Pidge I don’t know what to do,”

“Hit me with it,”

Keith would adamantly deny till the end of his days that he made an actual whining sound down the phone, but that would be a lie. He totally did.

“They’ve been arguing so much recently it’s…it’s actually freaking me out,” he said in low tones, hoping his boyfriend wouldn’t be able to hear him through the wall. He doubted it. Lance was still on the phone; Keith could hear the heated mix of Spanish with the occasional English curse drift through the closed door. It drifted closer, then farther away and Keith realised he must be pacing.

“Who? Lance” Pidge asked. Keith almost nodded before realising his mistake.

“Yeah, with his sister. She calls often enough but recently it’s just escalated to arguing and I don’t even know what they’re fucking saying half the time!” Keith clutched the phone
so tight he could have sworn he heard it creak.

“Dude, chill. I can hear your brain running to those conclusions,” Pidge interjects. Keith sighs.

“I know it’s just…”

“Look I understand Keith. I get why it’s freaking you out, Lance is literally shouting in the room over and with your…experiences, I totally get why you’re so on edge,”

Pidge sounds so concerned and Keith feels equal parts grateful and ashamed. He begins to drum his fingers lightly along the bare skin of his leg; he’s perched cross legged on the edge of his and Lance’s bed Lance’s jacket draped across his shoulders like a particularly drab dressing gown. The fabric of Lance’s oversized T-shirt feels soft against his skin and there’s a hole in his sock; he can feel it as he rubs his feet along the carpet.

“Have you tried…talking to him about it?” Pidge asks gently.

“No, not yet. It’s…it’s embarrassing Pidge, I should be over this by now it’s been so many years since you know…everything,” Keith’s voice sounds small even to him. He’s stopped drumming, his fingers now rubbing the fabric of his boxers. They’re red, slightly faded and covered in tiny cat faces. A prank gift from Lance.

“No, Keith that’s so…god I wish I could hug you right now but seriously what you went through when you were younger takes time to heal from. No one thinks of you any less Keith, like I said it’s healing not ‘getting over’ it. We just want you happy,” Pidge’s voice is soothing; Keith can almost ignore the automatic flinch his body makes as Lance’s voice hits a particularly loud angry note. Almost. His fingers curl into his thigh, his nails lightly scraping the skin.

“Okay I’ll talk to him,”

“You need to Keith, seriously. This is going to kill him you know, that he’s made you associate him with…urgh, he’s going to feel so guilty,” Pidge sighs. Keith groans. Of course it’s going to kill his boyfriend to hear he’d inadvertently brought back childhood memories of abuse. Lance had a protective streak a mile wide and though Keith pretended to be exasperated, he secretly loved it.

Being loved was such a beautiful sensation and he was secretly greedy for each loving and thoughtful gesture given to him. They’d been together three years, but feeling loved was still so new and alien.

“I don’t want him to feel guilty! I just want him to…” there’s a pause as Keith considers his words.

“Be more aware?” Pidge suggests. Keith hums in agreement.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to him I’ve just been putting it off because I know how guilty he’ll feel and he’s not even doing anything wrong! If anything is wrong it’s me,” Keith’s voice trails to a whisper. There’s a brief silence.

“Keith you’re not wrong. You could never be wrong. You’re Keith. You’re stubborn and hard-headed and carry your pocket knife in your left boot for some reason, even after the time you stabbed yourself in the foot with said pocket knife. You wear the same jacket all year round, and text me conspiracy theories at three in the fucking morning the night before an exam, but there is not a single thing I would change about you. You’re the bravest person I know,”

Pidge’s voice leaves no room for argument and Keith smiles, a warmth spreading through him.

“Thanks Pidge,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes with the back of his gloves. He burrows deeper into Lance’s jacket, weighing his options.

“I kind of want to do it now, get it out the way. I’m also kind of interested in what they’re arguing about,”

“Wait, you don’t know?”

“I don’t speak Spanish very well. I tried, early when we started dating and Lance even tried learning some Korean, but we both kind of sucked,”

“Dude, as long as it’s not something super private you have to let me know what he’s shouting about; in all the time I’ve known Lance I have seen him get legitimately angry precisely five times. I mean he’s indignant about five times a day but a truly angry Lance is a rarity,” Pidge muses.

“Five times? I’ve only seen it the once…well until now. He’s never done anything like this before to be honest,” Keith begins to shuffle back, stopping when he reaches the middle of the bed. He crosses his legs.

“Hmm think about it Keith. I’ve known him a lot longer than you and as far as Lance rage-fests go you’ve been there for a quarter of the occasions and the reason for three of them,” Pidge replies. Keith briefly feels his heart enter his throat.

“…where are you going with this?” Keith asks cautiously.

“ No, no I don’t mean he’s like…angry at you,” she back peddles “I’m saying it’s similar to that one time you saw him get angry,” she responds impishly. Keith is almost embarrassed at how relieved he feels.

“Wait, what? You mean he’s done that more than once? That time was bad enough Pidge seriously,” Keith groans. Pidge giggles.

“He was defending your honour Keith,” she mocks.

“Nope. Never happened,”

“Oh really? Should I text Hunk? I’m pretty sure I remember him being there. And hey, wasn’t Shiro there? I’m sure he can give us a blow by blow account. Allura may even have video evidence” Keith can hear the grin in her voice.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns.

“Hey I’m just kidding. But you gotta admit it was pretty sweet how defensive he got,”

Keith can feel his face heat up just thinking about it. He doesn’t ever find out what the guy had said about him, just remembers the way Lance’s face switched. He’d never seen his boyfriend look so serious but it was only for a split second before it had morphed into rage.

Keith remembered his heart dropping into his stomach because what had he done, why was Lance mad, oh god he’d fucked up, fuck, fuck, and there was there that instinctive fear in the face of anger, survival instincts aching to kick in because oh god I don’t want to get hurt… and then Lance literally launched himself into to space of the guy standing just off to their right at the bar and Keith could hear snippets of ‘what the fuck did you just say?’ And ‘I swear if you even so much as look at him’. He heard slices of ‘Lance you need to step back’ and could have sworn he heard a ‘did you hear what he fucking said about him Shiro? This guy’s lucky I’m not ripping his dick off’.

Before he knew it Keith was…well he was really fucking embarrassed. And angry at that guy, because fuck that guy. He was also floating. Mainly floating. He remembers feeling so warm and uncertain in himself, and he wanted to say something to Lance, that he could fight his own battles (it’s what he was used to), he didn’t need anyone else defending him (he’d never had anyone else) but Lance had turned to him eyes full of concern, face fond, smile so so beautiful as he’d asked ‘you okay babe?’ and Keith…Keith gave in. He felt loved. Wanted. Safe. God he loved this man.

Keith smiles remembering it. He’s aware the silence has probably dragged too long and hastily clears his throat.

“Yeah, he was,”

Lance is still on the phone. Keith can hear his pacing and the muffled anger. He sighs.

“I might do it now Pidge, I can’t stand waiting,”

“Up to you dude but isn’t he still, you know, on the phone arguing?”

“Well yeah but maybe I can, I don’t know, interrupt?” he says, the lilt at the end making it sound more like a question. Pidge’s voice is flat.

“Interrupt,”

“Well yeah, I just…I don’t want to lose my nerve,” Keith says, running his hand over his face. At this point he’s flat out on his bed, his toes curling in distress. The hole in his sock has probably tripled in size.

“I guess so. Maybe just walk in and try talking to him?” Pidge suggests. She doesn’t sound hopeful.

“But what if he just…keeps arguing? Will he even hear me? He’s pretty loud. God pidge what if he hears me and carries on arguing anyway? What would I even do?” even Keith can hear the panic in his voice.

“Look I doubt he’d do that Keith, and let say he did all you’d need to do is like, fake faint and he’d stop pretty much instantly,”

“…what?” he asks, confusion clear in his voice.

“Yup. Walk in there and give it your best swoon, proper ham it up like in the movies.” Keith’s mind is briefly bombarded with images of fainting women in corsets and for some reason Lance riding bareback on a horse. “Lance won’t be able to resist running to your aid like some valiant knight and for fuck sake Keith do you seriously think he will just ignore you?”

The sudden change in tone makes Keith’s head spin.

“What?”

“I wasn’t being serious Keith…oh god did you think I was…oh Keith,” Pidge dissolves into giggles, and Keith can’t help the quiet laughter that escapes him. Pidge coughs and Keith can imagine she’s wiping an imaginary tear from her eye.

“Trust me Keith Lance wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t just ignore you if you started speaking to him,” she reassures.

“Yeah I know,” he concedes. Damn his brain, always jumping to the absolute worst case scenario. Lance is late home from work? Oh he must be dead. Shiro hasn’t replied to a text? Oh he must hate him.

“Anyway I need to go dude, make sure you tell me everything that he says…you know, providing it’s not deadly per…sonal,” Pidge says, her voice cracking as she yawns. Keith glances at his phone; it’s 1am.

“Right. Thanks for the talk Pidge, you’re literally the greatest,” he replies softly.

“I know. Night dude,”

“Night,”

He ends the call, curling onto his side. He listens, no longer hearing Lance’s voice; the soft hum of the shower is coming from the bathroom along with the odd muffled lyric or hum. Keith grins. Lance was so cute.

Keith listens as the shower stops and a few minutes later the humming drifts closer and closer until the door glides open and Lance walks in. He’s gently towel drying his hair, another wrapped haphazardly around his waist. His face is coated evenly in one of his face masks and despite how ridiculous he looks, Keith still feels his heart speed up. Lance stops humming and finally looks at Keith.

“Hey beautiful,” he grins. Keith snorts.

“Says you,” he retorts. Lance winks.

“I do,” he says, giving his hair one last gentle rub before depositing the towel over the top of the door to dry. Keith rolls onto his stomach and wiggles towards the end of the bed. Lance sits down next to him, towel barely clinging to his hips, and gently threads a hand through Keith’s hair.

Keith debates starting the conversation about the arguments, but one quick glance at Lance’s soft expression has him biting his tongue.

“How was Hunk?” he asks instead “I forgot to ask earlier,”

“Hunk’s great,” Lance begins, his face lighting up “he says you definitely need to come see the flat when you’re not working, but seriously it’s gorgeous. Dead classy, just like Hunk,”

“He definitely is,” Keith nods, almost sagely “a man amongst moles,”

“Babe I’m not sure that’s how that…you know what never mind, wait here one sec,”

Lance leans over dropping a gentle kiss to Keith’s forehead, mindful of his face mask, before hopping up and striding out the room.

He returns moments later, his phone proudly displaying a photo of the new flat.

“Tada!” he cries, flinging himself back into position on the bed. Keith takes the phone and immediately begins swiping and zooming in on various photos.

“You weren’t lying, this is nice. Was Shay there today?” Keith asks, handing the phone back to Lance when he begins making grabby hands. He watches as Lance flicks through a dozen more photos before showing him the screen.

“This answer your question?”

It’s Hunk, the tall man’s arm wrapped proudly round his even taller girlfriend. They’re grinning widely and posed in front of what Keith guesses is Hunk’s new balcony. Keith raises a brow.

“Did you make them do a photoshoot?” he queries. Lance’s answer is to flick through more photos, each photo getting more staged and ridiculous until it’s literally just Hunk laughing, eating a bowl of salad.

“Really Lance. You memed him on your first official visit?” and Keith can’t help the smile breaking out across his face. Lance looks at him proudly.

“He said, and I quote, ‘not in front of my salad’,”

“…no he didn’t,”

“You’re right, he didn’t, but how great would it have been if he did?” Lance laughs, momentarily forgetting his face mask and rubbing his nose. He looks at his hand, a now slightly disgruntled expression on his face.

“I forgot about this, better wash it off,” and Keith watches as he stands, the muscles of his back rippling lightly with the movement.

Keith watched as the other man exited, listened to the faint sound of the tap and subsequent splashing. He chewed his lip lightly, his fingers beginning a steady thrum across the blankets. Should he mention it tonight? Or would it be better tomorrow?

As he lay there, half an hour later, his face pushed firmly into the crook of Lance’s neck and his boyfriend’s arm wrapped securely round his shoulder he decided it could wait. He felt too safe, too warm to break the soft atmosphere. Besides, he could tell Lance was nearly asleep; his breathing had become lighter, a gentle snore beginning to form. Keith just nuzzled in closer, closed his eyes and breathed in his boyfriend’s calming scent. Tomorrow. He’d mention it tomorrow.

His leg would not stop shaking. Keith was perched on the stool closest to the kitchen counter listening to Lance describe the latest thing Lotor had done at work to offend and aggravate him and as much as he enjoyed listening to his boyfriend bitch (he really did, it was always incredibly amusing) he couldn’t concentrate. He’d spent his whole day tense and irritated, terrified he’d drop something. Shiro had repeatedly asked if he was okay and he’d almost begun to regret agreeing to help out at the café .

He’d just been unable to stop playing each worst case scenario through his head. He didn’t want to make Lance feel bad or guilty, just aware and his heart clenched when he considered how responsible his boyfriend may feel. Not to mention how embarrassing it was. Here he was, twenty three years old and still not over his childhood trauma.
It was hard enough initially explaining to Lance the gist of his childhood and just seeing his boyfriend’s expression break. He’d wrapped him in his arms and whispered to him 'you’re safe now baby' and 'thank you for telling me' he may even remember him saying 'I won’t let anyone hurt you again Keith'. It was hard thinking of how Lance may feel realising he’d inadvertently hurt him, and Keith had spent the whole day ruminating.

Shiro’s probing hadn’t helped; he knew his brother had his best interests at heart but today he could have done with the distraction and monotony that helping in the café was supposed to give. Instead his anxiety had steadily increased throughout the day until he was sure that Lance would notice immediately how jittery he was; as it turned out his boyfriend was equally distracted and frustrated by the events at his work and hadn’t yet noticed that Keith was practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“…so I told him that it was too much fabric, he knows that it’s calculated a set way and any leftover mean that we get charged, but he made me put the order though anyway and guess who gets called up about this!?”

Lance is pacing, swinging his arms wildly as he described his colleagues misdeeds; the lack of partition between kitchen and spacious living room means he’s just sort of wandering between the two rooms, walking round the coffee table then back through to the kitchen. Keith gnaws his lip wondering if now would be a good time to interrupt.

“Lance can…”

“He’s unbelievable I honestly can’t understand why he’s still working this department he’s fucked up so many times, and he has the audacity to look me in the face and criticise my work..”

“Lance can I just…” just as Lance looks up, finally hearing Keith’s interruption he hears the heavy vibrations of an incoming call. Lance sighs, reaching into his pocket.

“Sorry babe let me just,” his face immediately sours upon seeing the ID and Keith can feel his heart rate increase.

“I can’t believe she’s…” he hears him mutter, and the next second Lance has answered the call.

“If this is about what I think it is,” his voice is low and deadly. Keith’s breathe hitches slightly and he watches as Lance turns away, walking over to the other side of the living room, as though the distance will prevent Keith from being able to overhear.

“No…NO, we are not even discussing this, I can’t believe she’s put you up to this,” Lance’s voice steadily climbs in volume, as though matching Keith’s panic. He rises from the stool, walking closer to his boyfriend.

“Lance…”

“I understand she is upset but there is no chance that I am letting…I don’t care if he’s family Alex, I’ve explained this to Lia we are not coming,” Keith recognises the name of Lance’s sister and his sister’s partner.

He’s trying to concentrate on what Lance is saying, but his angry tone is still so distracting. Keith finds himself gripping his T-shirt, wringing the fabric between his hands.

“Put her on. No, I DON’T CARE, PUT MY SISTER ON THE PHONE NOW,” Lance is practically screaming into the phone at this point and Keith can’t help the flinch at the sudden increase in volume. He’s slightly aware that he’s shaking, quivering gently where he stands.

“Lance,” he says, tries to sound firm.

“In a minute Keith,” Lance replies, his voice terse. He’s still facing away. Keith tried to remind himself that it is nothing personal, that Lance was angry at his sister and partner not him, but his brain was working rapidly, making quick fire connections and all Keith could feel was guilt and nausea. What did I do, what did I do?

“Lia…NO…” and then Lance is breaking off into Spanish. Keith catches the odd word, he swears he hears homofóbico and his own name a few time, but it’s angry enunciation of each word, the aggressive stance that put him on edge. He takes a deep breathe, steeling himself.

“Lance,” it’s louder than the first time, sounding confident though he felt anything but. Lance pauses mid word and turns slightly, frustration practically dancing across his face.

“Later Keith I’m on the phone,”

His tone is clipped and unlike anything he’d heard in a long time. Admittedly they’d had…disagreements when first meeting, but as soon as they’d became friendly there’d been nothing but warmth. Even when they’d argued it felt different, perhaps as Keith felt like he was on equal footing. Here Keith felt as though the floor had been completely ripped away and he was panicking.

What did he do, what did he do? Lance wasn’t stopping he was…what had Pidge said to do? She’d gave advice what did she say?

Panicked Keith felt the conversation flicked before him.

“…all you’d need to do is like, fake faint and he’d stop pretty much instantly”

Nope. Nope that wasn't helpful. Except it was all his mind could focus on right now, she’d said not to do it immediately after but fuck Keith was panicking. Could it work? How would he even do it?

“…I don’t CARE if she’s upset, you put her back on the phone right NOW Alex….FUCK YOU, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE SUGGESTING,”

The sudden switch to English seized Keith’s attention. His palms were sweating and he felt his pulse in his throat and FUCK IT he was doing it, he needed the shouting to stop and he needed it to stop NOW.

Keith forced himself to relax his muscles and closed his eyes, letting his body fall whichever way it pleased. The urge to step out and catch himself was strong, but he ignored it.
It was only mid fall that he realised he probably should have stood further away from the coffee table and hey maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after….

THUD.

Chapter Text

Lance had been on edge all day. The conversations with his sister last night and the few nights before had amplified the normal frustration he felt on a daily basis working with Lotor. The man was a tool, simple as. Even after he’d calmed down and for the first time in a week slept fully throughout the night, the bitterness he’d felt had lingered. What she was suggesting was just so…hurtful. Nothing like he’d expect Lia to suggest. His abuela? Maybe. Lia, never.

This year for the family meet up they had invited José, Lance’s uncle only by blood. He was visiting for the first time in years, a majority of his time spent travelling. More importantly he was a raging bigot and Lance wanted nothing to do with him. The man had made him uncomfortable during the brief occasions they’d met growing up, his toxic macho attitude and blatant sexism already raising a young Lance’s hackles, but seeing the man shortly after coming out as bisexual had cemented his opinion of him. Having his identity mocked, questioned and blatantly disrespected was not an experience he wanted to have ever again if helped. Having not seen the man in six years he’d put him out of sight and mind.

Until Lia had rang to inform him he was coming.

No. No way were he and Keith going to the meet up if he was there. He’d apologise to his Mamá and go visit another time but there was no chance he was dealing with that again. He was twenty-three now and a hell of a lot taller. Not to mention if he said even one thing to Keith, well…like he said he was a hell of a lot taller now.
The calls in general had left an extremely bad taste in his mouth.

He’d spent his whole day at work hunched over, answering emails, ignoring Lotor unless absolutely necessary (the idiot had ordered five times the amount of fabric needed for the new designs and it was in very clipped tones that Lance had explained to his boss the exact reason, or rather person behind this).
As he’d trudged across the street leading to his and Keith’s apartment he felt that familiar relief. Soon. Soon he’d be able to cuddle up to his boyfriend and bitch about work. He felt a pang as he realised he wouldn’t yet be able to explain the real reason for his mood; until he’d sorted the situation he wanted Keith as uninvolved as possible. He was not dragging his boyfriend into this mess until it had been firmly resolved. Keith had had far too many past experiences involving his sexuality; he never went into too many details involving his past run ins but Lance got the picture far too well. It wasn’t like Keith had asked about the recent phone calls after all, and he really wasn’t one to shy away from probing questions.

When he’d first met Keith he’d described him as ‘tactless’ but as soon as he got to know him and appreciate his occasionally blunt personality he realised this wasn’t purposeful. It just how he was. He’d seen first-hand the embarrassment and shame, watched the other man’s face fall and flush red as he realised something he’d said had been taken wrongly. It had made his heart ache at the time to hear the small sorry muttered in apology. He knew how actively he tried now to come across as polite and approachable, retraining years of attempting to be the very opposite. To stop people from getting too close. So he wouldn’t be hurt again…

Lance had to physically unclench his hands. Yeah, that topic was not the best when trying to calm down; just thinking about Keith’s past sent a rush of rage through his body at a speed that could not be healthy. Okay then happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Keith was at home right now, they could spend the evening together cuddling, watching awful television and eating take-out.

By the time Lance reached the door to the apartment he feels significantly calmer, and it’s a true smile that breaks out when he opens the door.

“Hey,” he announces, shutting the door lightly behind him and kicking off his shoes. He’s just locking up when Keith replies.

“In the kitchen!”

Lance steps through into their open kitchen/living room, his eyes catching his boyfriend’s over the oversized mug he held.

Lance is well aware that there may be some bias involved, but he is pretty certain that his boyfriend is the most adorable human being on the planet. He has to stop and stare a second at the other man; he’s sat cross-legged on the kitchen stool, his hair loosely tied into a messy ponytail and an oversized sweater swamping the majority of his hands whilst he sips from his large mug. It was the one Lance had bought him the other year for Christmas and has a large ‘have you seen?’ poster for the loch ness monster stretched across the porcelain.

“You okay?” he asks Lance, having finished his sip of what smells like herbal tea.

Lance watches his ponytail bob slightly as he sets the mug down, the sleeve spilling almost fully over his hand. The first time Keith had tied his hair up, early into their relationship Lance was sure he’d nearly dropped something; the man was just so goddamn beautiful. He was beautiful in general, but there had been something about watching him reach up and pull his hair into the hair tie so precisely that had made Lance’s mouth go dry.

“Yeah I’m okay. Today was…the usual I guess,” Lance replies, finally walking over to greet his boyfriend. Keith’s eyes crinkle slightly as he leans in for a kiss and when they part Lance rests his forehead on the other’s briefly, sighing.

“Lotor?” Keith asks, unfurling his legs from their cross and sitting more traditionally. Lance gives an exaggerated groan.
“Who else? Seriously it’s like the man exists purely to annoy me,” he pulls back and begins to pace lightly round the small kitchen area. Historically Lance found staying still very hard to do, especially when angry.

Something has to always be moving, whether it’s his arms gesticulating wildly when he is particularly enthusiastic about something, or his legs when he has to physically pace. It’s almost second nature to him. He long ago noticed that Keith was very different in that respect; he made small fidgety movement, his fingers and toes often wriggled and tapped but the majority of his body stayed still. Almost poised.

“He majorly fucked up today. Like, should-be-reprimanded levels of fucked up,” Lance continues.

“What did he actually do?” Keith asks. Lances turns from the man to widen his area of pacing.

“What didn’t he do? You know I liaise between the different firms and occasionally confirm the shipments before they go out? And you know how his job is literally organising the order? Like he’s meant to check things through and give the go-ahead?”

Lance is only occasionally glancing back at his boyfriend; he’s on a role in his rant now and as always needs to get the majority out before he can stop.

“Well he only went and purposefully made me fuck up an order. I get this email for an order of fabric and I know that it’s way too much, I can see that at a glance and I’ve not even done any of the maths for it. So I told him that it was too much fabric, he knows that it’s calculated a set way and any leftover mean that we get charged, but he made me put the order though anyway and guess who gets called up about this!?”

Lance sighs, running his hand across his face.

“He’s unbelievable I honestly can’t understand why he’s still working this department he’s fucked up so many times, and he has the audacity to look me in the face and criticise my work..”

“Lance can I just…” Lance looks up. He opens his mouth to reply, only to jump slightly at the sudden sensation I his pocket.

“Sorry babe let me just,” he begins, glancing down at the caller ID. Fuck no. Fuck. No. It was Alex, his sister’s boyfriend and the implication that she had made him call for her? He almost couldn’t believe it, slamming his thumb into the phone to answer the call.

“If this is about what I think it is,” he forgoes any formal introduction, turning to head as far into the living room as he could. There’s a sigh down the line.

“Look Lance, Lia just wants to…”

“No…NO, we are not even discussing this, I can’t believe she’s put you up to this,” the sentence almost ends in a shriek. He was way too on edge already to deal with this rationally.

“This is why Lia is upset, you can’t even talk rationally about it for one second?”

“Lance,” Keith’s voice is soft as he calls out, but Lance is already too occupied with what Alex is suggesting.

“I understand she is upset but there is no chance that I am letting…”

“No matter if you like it or not Lance, that man is family!”

Lance bristles.

“…I don’t care if he’s family Alex, I’ve explained this to Lia we are not coming,”

“You can’t put up with this guy for one day Lance? It’s one day,” Alex sounds so genuinely confused. Lance can tell his grip on the phone is deathly.

“Put her on,” he hisses.

“She’s upset with how you’ve been speaking to her Lance…”

“No, I DON’T CARE, PUT MY SISTER ON THE PHONE NOW,” Lance is aware he is outright shouting but at this point he doesn’t care.

“Lance,” that was Keith. Lance doesn’t dare to turn instead briefly swallowing his anger to reply.

“In a minute Keith,”

“And I told you SHE IS UPSET WITH YOU. Why do you think I’m calling? You think I want to be shouted at?” Alex is now shouting back and it does nothing but fuel his anger.

“…I don’t CARE if she’s upset, you put her back on the phone right NOW Alex…” he can hear his muffled sounds of a phone being grabbed then suddenly his sister is hissing down the phone in rapid Spanish.

“How dare you talk to him like this Lance? Fuck you, you are making this into something it’s not,”

“Lia…NO,” he switches to Spanish himself, breathing heavily through his nose “You have no idea, if you think I’m letting that homophobic fuck anywhere near Keith you are fucking crazy. Do you not care that he literally thinks we are fucking sinners and that we’re going to hell? How the fuck are you not realising how serious this is to me?” he wouldn’t be surprised if actual steam was pouring off him, he’d not felt genuine hurt and anger like this in a long time and it was literally making him shake.

"Lia you’re my sister. You…”

“Lance,”

He is reminded again that Keith is there, Keith is behind him. He can’t quite reign in his anger before he replies.

“Later Keith I’m on the phone,” he feels a pang of annoyance at being interrupted; Keith can very clearly see he’s busy.

”Lance are you suggesting this has anything to do with how I view you as my brother? Really Lance?” she’s crying but at this point Lance doesn’t care.
”I’m saying that you of all people should understand how I’m feeling and take me seriously? You should have my fucking back in all this not try to convince me that not wanting to spend time with a homophobic asshole is MY problem!” Lance is practically snarling at this point. There’s some scrabbling sounds down the line and then Lance is yet again speaking to Alex. What a surprise. Lance nearly rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know exactly what you said Lance but she is very upset right now,”

“…I don’t CARE if she’s upset, you put her back on the phone right NOW Alex…”

“She’s CRYING Lance, I’m not putting her back on. Seriously fuck you, all this cause you can’t man up for one fucking day,”

“FUCK YOU, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE SUGGESTING,” Lance is screaming, his head pounding, he’s just so angry.

“What I’m suggesting is you stop having a hissy fit over an old man at the expense of seeing your family. I thought you were more…”

THUD.

Lance spins round, the loud sound making him jump and for a moment he can’t understand what could have made such a loud noise. His eyes scan the room for a split second before they land on Keith; his crumpled form rolling slightly as he appears to slide off the coffee table. Alex’s words trail off, there’s nothing he can focus on because Keith made that noise and he’s…

Fuck, fuck fuck. He’s just lying there, next to the coffee table and Lance knows logically he must have fallen and hit the table (he even saw him slide off) but it’s like his mind can’t compute because his boyfriend is now just lying there.

And then it registers, literally like a punch to the chest and he can’t move fast enough, he’s skidding beside him, knees scraping against the carpet as he reaches out with shaking hands. Keith’s hair is in his face, the ponytail having unravelled, and Lance sweeps it back with trembling fingers.

“Keith. Baby, look at me,” he shakes him lightly, panic amplifying when it’s clear he’s unconscious.

“Keith…KEITH,” he’s more desperate now, racking his brain for every bit of first aid it may have learnt “baby come on,”

He reaches under the back of his head, aiming to pull him just slightly closer but freezes when he reaches through the slightly damp hair. He pulls his hand back slowly, panic amplifying as he sees the blood dripping lightly down his fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” he can feel hysteria creeping up his spine, but forces himself to remain calm, he needed to be calm. Phone. He needed to phone for help. Loathe to leave Keith even for a second he scrambles back to grab it; he must have dropped it initially and he definitely didn’t disconnect it.

“Lance what the fuck is happening? Alex says there was a crash and you dropped the phone, you can’t…,”

He ends the call, not even registering the panicked voice on the other line, instead jabbing his thumb on the 9 and 1. It feels like a lifetime before anyone answers though likely seconds pass.

"Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?" it’s a woman, she sounds calm and professional but Lance can’t quite appreciate that at the moment. How is she so calm when it feels like his world is ending.

“My boyfriend he’s fallen, hit his head i-it’s bleeding,” he rushes out, his heart pulsating in his throat.

“What’s the address of the emergency?”

He reels off the address, stuttering over the street name.

“Is your boyfriend conscious?” the handler asks.

“No, he won’t…he won’t wake up,” saying it out loud seems to solidify the situation, and god his hands won’t stop shaking.

“Is he breathing?” they ask. It sends a jolt of panic through Lance because oh god, he’d not even checked.

“Oh god I don’t...” he rushes forward placing a hand on Keith’s chest, lowering his face to his nose and mouth. For a heart stopping moment Lance is sure he’s not breathing, and the panic is so intense it feels hot and cold at the same time, but then there’s a small puff of warm air on his face, and Keith’s chest rises slowly under his hand.

“He’s…yeah, he’s breathing,” he finally replies, his voice strangled.

“Okay that’s good. What’s your boyfriend’s name?” the call handler asks. Lance takes a stuttering breathe.

“Keith, it’s Keith,” he can hear some hurried typing.

“Okay, and what’s your name?”

“Lance,”

“Hi Lance, my names Priya. Don’t worry, someone will be there to help you shortly okay but I have some instructions for you, so I want you to stay on the line. You said his head was bleeding?”

“Yeah, on the side I think I, I didn’t want to move him,” he replies.

“That was the right thing to do Lance don’t worry, does it appear to be bleeding heavily?” the woman, apparently named Priya asks. Lance looks carefully where Keith is lying, not wanting to move him anymore than necessary, panic flaring again as he notes the small but oh so visible puddle beginning to form beneath his head.

“Yes. No. I don’t know, there’s a puddle there now so I think it’s bleeding a lot,” he croaked out, free hand flailing above Keith’s head.

“Can you see the wound?”

Lance peers round carefully, lifting hair back until he can see it. It’s a cut, he can’t tell how long or how deep.

“Sort of, he has a lot of hair,” he laughs slightly hysterically, eyes darting to Keith’s face.

“I understand this is difficult Lance but does it look deep enough to show any underlying tissue?”

“W-what?”

“We need to make sure it’s not deep enough that it’s reached his skull before we put any pressure on to stop the bleeding okay?” Priya explains calmly. Lance takes a breath, steeling himself before looking back at the wound. It looks deep but not that deep.

“I don’t think so, it’s deep but I can’t see anything showing underneath,”

“Okay I don’t want you to move his head, but if there’s anything you can press against the wound to help with the bleeding, do you have any clean cloth or gauze?” Priya asks calmly.

“No, no gauze, we have a clean dish towel?” he blurts out. Why the fuck did they not have any decent first aid equipment, why had he not gone to any first aid classes?

“Okay Lance, I want you to grab that for me. If you can reach the wound I want you to fold it and press it firmly against it,”

Lance is careful not to knock Keith as he stands before throwing himself back into the kitchen, grabbing the newly washed towel.

“I’ve got it,” he muttered, rushing back over and putting the phone on speaker.

“That’s great Lance, now fold it and place it over the wound and press firmly okay?” Priya continues, repeating the instructions.

“Okay,” Lance mutters, doing as she asks feeling slightly detached as he placed the towel against Keith’s head.

“I want you to keep that there until the crew arrive okay?”

Before he can reply Lance is distracted by Keith who lets out a quiet pained moan.

“Keith? Baby can you hear me?” he asks, his voice gentle despite his pounding heart.

“L..Lance?” Keith’s voice is pained and quiet, his eyes opening a fraction before slamming shut.

“I’m here baby, it’s okay,” Lance responds, his other hand reaching up to gently cup his boyfriend’s face. The relief upon seeing Keith awake is impalpable, but the panic is still there bubbling steadily beneath the surface.

“Wha…what happen?” Keith’s voice is slurred and quiet and Lance knows this is a bad sign.

“You fell baby, you hit your head but the paramedics are coming to help okay?” Lance forces his voice to remain calm and collected, not wanting to cause any more stress to the other man. Inside he was a mess but there was no way in hell he was letting Keith know that.

“…hurts…” Keith whimpers and Lance is certain he can feel his heart crack. He ignores the burning behind his eyes focusing instead on gently stroking Keith’s cheek.

“I know baby, but they won’t be very long okay?” he reassures. They better not be very long or so help him...

“Is Keith awake?” Priya’s voice causes him to jump.

“Yeah he…he doesn’t seem very with it though,” Lance says, turning slightly towards the phone.

“Okay well the paramedics won’t be too much longer. Is he responding to you?” she asks, the calm professionalism for the first time seeming soothing as oppose to aggravating. Maybe it was because Keith was finally awake.

“Keith? Can you hear me sweetheart” he asks tentatively. Keith hums in response.

“Yeah he’s responding, sort of. Not words just then, but he can hear me, he answered me” Lance rambles back to the operator who seems to take it in her stride.

“That’s good. Now Lance I’m going to terminate the call in case the paramedics need to call you, I want you to unlock the door if you can and listen out for them alright? Normally we’d put Keith in recovery position right now but we don’t want to move him in case he’s injured his spine. Is he on his back right now?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Lance affirms.

“Okay, if he begins to vomit you need to roll him onto his side but only if he vomits okay?”

“Okay, only if he vomits, got it,” Lance repeats. He thanks her and it seems that just as he terminates the call there’s a knocking at the door, the timing could not be more perfect. He carefully removes his hand from the towel, wincing in tandem with Keith.

“Sorry baby, I need to let the paramedics in,” he whispers, dropping to kiss the man’s forehead lightly before scrambling up and running to the door.
The EMT’s don’t seem surprised that he nearly rips the door off it’s hinges as soon as it’s unlocked.

“He-he’s through here,” he blurts out, stepping back to allow them through. It’s a heavy set man and a rather petite woman, both smiling and radiating an aura of professionality.

“Thank you. My names Elliot and this is my partner June. What’s your name sir” the man, Elliot asks. The woman waves, following him through into the apartment.

“It’s Lance,” Lance replies, heading hurriedly back into the living room. The two follow and the large man immediately kneels beside Keith.

“Sir, can you hear me?” Elliot asks slowly. There’s a small pause before Keith replies.

“Yes,” he sounds so tired and small and Lance nervously clenches his hands wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch him, but he knows at this point he’d be more a hindrance than a help.

“Can you tell me your name?” Elliot asks; he’s reaching into his bag and grabbing various pieces of equipment but Lance is more focused on Keith’s pained face.

“…Keith. Kogane,” he still sounds slurred and unsure, almost intoxicated.

“Okay then Keith, my names Elliot and my partner over there is June but don’t look at her just yet okay keep your head still as you can,”

“…Kay,”

“Can you tell me what happened?” Elliot asks gently, leaning forward to inspect the wound.

“…Pidge. Said…don’t do it. There was…horses?” Keith mutters and Lance feels his panic rocket again. Elliot turns to look at Lance, a questioning look upon his face.

“I have no idea, Pidge is our friend? I was on the phone and heard this crash and turned round and he was….he rolled off the table, I think he must have passed out?” Lance stammered. Elliot nods turning back to Keith.

“Keith is this true? Can you remember what happened?”

“…head hurts,”

“I know Keith, it must have been a nasty fall. Can you do me a favour and move your hands and feet for me?” Elliot asks gently.

There’s a terrifying moment when nothing happens and oh god what if he injured his spine then Keith begins lightly moving his hands and feet.

“Good job! Few more questions Keith okay? Can you tell me if you feel nauseas or dizzy,” Elliot looks up at his partner June who has steadily been making notes on a clip-pad. She nods in understanding and Lance feels like he may have missed out on a silent conversation.

“Yes. Both,” Keith replies and Lance is glad that he seems to understand the questions. The remark about Pidge had really thrown him for a loop.

“Okay Keith, do you have any allergies?” Elliot asks. Keith only groans in reply.

“Keith?”

“…no,”

“Okay, that’s good! Do you take any medication at all?” Elliot continues, June’s pen scratching steadily in the background.

“Flu…flu med,” Keith mutters.

“Flu medication?” Elliot asks.

“He means Fluoxetine. He’s on twenty milligrams of fluoxetine a day, no other medication,” Lance interjects, looking across at June. She nods, clearly making a note.

“Okay June, can you grab me a C-Collar? We’ll need a stretcher too,” Elliot says in his partner’s direction.

“Sure thing,” she says, capping her pen and heading to grab whatever the collar thing was.

“Right Keith, we’re going to put something on your head and neck to brace it okay? Then we’re going to put you on a stretcher and take you out to the ambulance alright?” Elliot says, glancing at Lance to let him know he’s addressing the both of them. Keith hums unhappily in response and Lance steps closer.

“It’s okay baby they’re going to get you some help alright? Am I allowed to ride with him?” Lance turns to face the EMT, hoping more than anything the answer will be yes.

“I’m afraid not sir, have you got any other method of transport? Other than driving yourself I mean, I don’t think it’s wise for you to be driving,” Elliot says, a sympathetic grimace across his face. Lance ignores the disappointment (and spark of anger, because how dare he say he can’t ride with his boyfriend) and thinks briefly about his options.

“I know a few people. His brother Shiro could…could probably take me,” if he wasn’t panicking as much as Lance that was. Boy was that going to be a fun conversation.
“Okay. You’ll probably need to pack a few things for Keith as well, spare clothes, any medicine or medical records if you have them,” Elliot continues. Lance nods, mentally cataloguing everything he’d need to pack.

The neck few minutes are a blur, June reappearing with this brace contraption, Elliot attaching it to Keith and the two expertly placing him on the stretcher with minimum movement. The next thing Lance registers is Keith in the ambulance. The paramedics allow him in to say a brief goodbye; he gently kisses the side of Keith’s mouth, whispering that he loved him, that he’d see him soon, then the ambulance is gone.

Somewhere at the back of Lance’s mind he realises he’s standing in the middle of the street in no shoes, his boyfriend’s blood covering his hand. It’s at point it all begins to hit him, and he can’t help the shuddered sob that leaves his body.

It’s 8 pm on a Tuesday evening. His boyfriend is in hospital. Lance begins to cry.