Work Text:
Keith despises the cold.
He always has, and he probably always will. He attributes some of his hatred toward lower temperatures to his growing up in a desert, and the rest to his pathetically low cold tolerance. He has a significantly lower body temperature than the average human, for Christ's sake. Despite how little he likes it, he's quite used to being uncomfortably cold.
But this castle? Is fucking freezing.
Keith is curled up in the fetal position under his practically useless sheet of a blanket, shivering his ass off while trying to sleep. His feet hurt, they're so cold. He breathes warm air into his palms, desperately trying to keep his fingers from freezing off.
If I get pneumonia from this, it had better kill me.
And, to top it off, the rest of the team had actually been complaining about being hot earlier today. Hot! And Allura had lowered the inside temperature, because that was what the masses wanted.
And Keith had kept his mouth shut, because apparently he's a fucking pushover.
After a good hour of laying there in misery, Keith decides he's too cold to try sleeping right now. He rolls out of bed, cursing as his bare feet hit the metal floor—fuck, he forgot to put on socks—and rubs his arms in an effort to warm them up. A glance toward his closet gives him an idea.
He pulls his paladin armor on and activates the temperature regulation, and holy shit, that's so much better. He closes the mask and he can feel his nose again. The boots clack loudly on the floor, but his toes aren't frozen anymore and that's really what matters.
He can't find his gloves, of course, because that's really just his luck. Whatever, he'll look for them tomorrow. They probably got mixed in with someone else's laundry again. His hands will just have to be cold.
He obviously can't sleep in the clunky armor, so Keith decides to take a walk through the halls to warm up some more, and maybe make him tired enough to fall asleep quickly after he takes the armor off.
He's been walking for a while when he hears footsteps behind him. A familiar figure is approaching him, in light pjs and a robe (how does he do that it's freezing). "Keith?" the figure calls, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Lance," he greets, stopping in his tracks and letting the other catch up. "It's late, what are you doing up?"
"What are you doing up?" Lance counters, bringing one hand to rest on his hip. "And…why are you suited up? Is something wrong?"
"No, everything's fine," he answers quickly, hoping to dispel the anxious thought he knows are running through Lance's head. "I just...couldn't sleep."
Lance raises a concerned eyebrow and steps closer. "Why not? Have you been having nightmares again?"
Keith shakes his head. "Nothing like that. I just..." He crosses his arms. "I was cold," he mutters.
A moment goes by in silence. "You were...cold?" Lance repeats.
"It's stupid," Keith says, starting to turn on his heel. "Never mind."
Lance grabs his ungloved hand before he can walk away and brings it up to his cheek. "Holy shit," he whispers. "Keith, your hand is freezing."
"So is the rest of me," he replies dryly.
Lance takes his other hand, sandwiching them between his own in an effort to warm them up. "Babe, if you're so cold you can't sleep, why didn't you tell anyone? You could get sick or something."
Keith shrugs, leaning closer to Lance gratefully. "Everyone was complaining about being hot. I knew nothing would be changed anyway."
Lance frowns. "A little heat is nothing when you're literally turning into a human icicle, Keith."
"I didn't want everyone else to be uncomfortable," he mutters sheepishly.
"You selfless bastard," Lance replies, shaking his head. He leans over to give him a peck on the cheek and squeezes his hands. "If you want to, I know something that'll keep you warmer than that armor."
"I'm willing to try," Keith answers. "What is it?"
Lance grins. "Change into your pjs and come to my room when you're done."
Keith knocks on the door of the room next-door to his. Lance shouts a verbal command, and the door slides open with a gentle whoosh.
Lance waves Keith inside and beams at him from where he's standing in his room. He's hiding something behind his back, though Keith can quite clearly see what it is. "Is that—"
Lance whips his hands out in front of him, proudly displaying a large, fluffy, blue blanket. Keith gapes at him before stepping over to feel it. The blanket is soft and thick and Keith might just be in love.
"Lance," he says as he runs his hands over the fuzzy material, "where did you get this?"
"It was a gift from one of the Seludyans we visited at the ball last week," his boyfriend explains. "I usually run too hot to use it, so you can have it if you want. Or," he says as he glances toward the bed, "we could...perform a little experiment."
Keith quirks a smile, already suspecting where this is going. "An experiment, huh?"
Lance grins at him. "You know. Just a test. We simply see what is more effective at warming you up. This blanket," he jostles the hand with the blanket in it, "or this blanket," he finishes, jabbing a thumb at himself and winking.
Keith is already pulling him towards the bed. "And what do you hypothesize?"
Lance flops down on his side on the bed, patting the space in front of him. "I hypothesize that I can keep you warmer than this lump of fabric."
"We'll have to see," Keith hums, laying down in his designated spot. He presses his back against Lance's chest, sighing contently as he nestles his head under Lance's chin.
Lance throws the blanket over them before wrapping his arms around Keith and pressing a kiss to his neck, and a warm feeling spreads through Keith's body that he knows isn't caused by the blanket.
He tangles their legs together and presses his freezing feet to the backs of Lance's knees. Lance yelps in protest, but doesn't pull away. Keith hums happily as he lets his eyes slip shut.
That night, Keith sleeps better than he has in weeks, and his limbs aren't icicles when he wakes up the next morning.