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They’re sitting on Keith’s bed, doing nothing in particular, when a question pops into Lance’s head.
What do Keith’s scars look like?
He immediately loses focus on the game he’s playing on his phone and his character gets hit by a car. He doesn’t notice.
Where did that come from? He wonders.
Lance glances over at his boyfriend, who’s sitting with his legs tossed over his own, his back against the wall, engrossed in his most recent literary addiction. They’ve been hanging out Lance and Hunk’s apartment for an hour or so. The rest of their group is off doing their own various things, leaving the two of them alone with nothing to do.
He wonders if it’s rude to ask. Why does he want to know so bad? He’s not sure. But he’s curious.
He lays there for a few minutes, pondering his dilemma. Is it weird? Rude? Will Keith be angry? Embarrassed? Why is it any of Lance’s business?
Communication. Shiro’s voice interrupts his thoughts.
Keith rarely says what he’s thinking. He recalls Shiro saying. If you want to say something, say it. ‘Cause he won’t.
Shiro knows best, he guesses.
“Hey, Keith?”
His boyfriend continues reading for a second, and then sticks his thumb into the book and turns his attention to Lance. He hums in inquiry at Lance’s question. Lance sits up to face his boyfriend.
“I know this is like, a thing you don’t like to talk about, and I know it’s not really my business, but for some reason I’m really curious and you can say no of course, but, um,” Lance hesitates. Fuck, is this weird? Too late.
“Can I uh, could I see your scars?”
Keith’s face is vacant of any trace of emotion. Lance can’t tell what Keith is thinking. Which is kind of scary. Lance takes the hint after a few seconds of silence.
“Ok, um, I’m really sorry, forget I asked, it’s really not my business-” Keith cuts Lance off with a quiet question.
“Why do you want to see them?” Lance pauses. Clears his throat. His fingers are pulling at the hem of his t-shirt insistently. Keith’s gaze is intense.
“Well, ok, so I was thinking about what you told me a couple nights ago, and you said you wanted me to- to love all of you, right? And I know you probably don’t like them but I don’t want you to like, be ashamed of them or anything, so I guess I just want to show you that… I do love all of you. And I want to see all of you.” Lance blushes at the implications of that last sentence.
“I mean, not like that, I mean yeah like that eventually, but I mean, like, the good and bad parts, ya know? And I want you to love all of yourself too.”
Keith stares silently at Lance’s shark patterned bed sheets. Lance is just sitting, staring, starting to get embarrassed, when Keith sits up straight and pulls his shirt off. Wordlessly, he holds out his arm to Lance, not meeting his eyes.
But Lance doesn’t look. Not yet. Instead, he grabs Keith’s hand, tugging him toward the headboard of the bed. He settles himself sitting with his back against the headboard and quietly guides Keith to sit on his lap, straddling him. Their faces are inches apart, but it’s not sexual in the least. It’s quiet. Intimate. Loving.
Lance pulls his boyfriend into a short hug, pulling back to kiss him on the forehead. He presses his forehead against Keith’s. Lance’s hands slide from around Keith’s neck down to his elbows, their eyes still interlocked. With the tops of their heads still pressed together, they stare at the faded marks on Keith’s forearms. Lance just looks, at first, then he traces them, the short faded scars scattered here and there.
“I hate them.” Keith states quietly, staring intently at his arms. Lance frowns.
“I don’t,” he responds. Keith looks far away.
“They’re ugly. These aren't even-” Keith hesitates, wondering how far he’s going to take this.
“These aren’t even the worst ones.” Silence. God, he shouldn’t have- Keith knew he shouldn’t have said that.
Shit, he thinks glumly.
Lance is nowhere near on the same page. Carefully, he slides his hands down to Keith’s ass to support him while he shifts them around so that Lance is hovering over Keith, his knees on either side of Keith’s hips.
“Show me?” Lance asks, his hands cupping his shirtless boyfriend’s face. Keith nods and moves to undo the buttons on his pants. Once his pants are out of the way, Keith is lying almost naked under Lance. But somehow, despite his nerves, he feels safe. The air is heavy, but they breathe through it together.
“Your thighs?” Lance asks. Keith just nods. Slowly, he pushes the fabric of Keith’s boxers upwards on both sides, revealing bigger, more prominent scars. The longest one is about half the length of Lance’s pointer finger. Wordlessly, he studies each and every one, tracing them softly with the pads of his fingers. When he’s done, he looks up to find Keith staring at the ceiling, his eyes shiny.
Lance crawls back up to cup Keith’s face and kisses him softly.
“Hey, you know what?” He asks, smiling tenderly at the boy beneath him.
“What?” He whispers, still not meeting his eyes.
Lance guides his chin to angle his face towards his own, forcing Keith to lock eyes with him.
“I love all of you.”
Lance sits up, putting his full weight onto Keith’s hips. He grabs Keith’s left arm with both hands and holds it up so he can kiss every single scar on there. He does the same with the right, and when he’d done, he faces Keith with a grin. Then he attacks Keith’s face with kisses, placing them all over his cheeks, forehead, nose, eyelids, and finally, when he reaches Keith’s lips, there’s a smile there. So he kisses that too.