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Keith dragged his tired body into his room at the castle. The mission with the Blades had gone even longer than anticipated. For once, he only had bumps and bruises and just wanted to curl up in bed with the Altean version of Icy Hot and sleep for then next week. Or movement. Or whatever time reference someone cared to use. Just sleep.
With a last longing look at the bed, the paladin forced himself to gather his shower gear and a change of clothing before walking down the hall to the bathroom. It took much longer than anticipated to rinse all of the dust and debris from his hair and to clean all the various bits of alien viscera stuck to his skin. He did not know how it always found a way through the blade uniform. You would think that alien materials would keep out, well, alien materials.
Finally clean, Keith made his way back to his room, swaying with exhaustion. At one point during the short journey, he listed sideways into the wall as his body started to give up the fight to say conscious. The collision woke him enough to travel the last twenty feet to his door. Letting the dirty clothes, wet towels, and boots lay in a heap by the door, Keith staggered the last three feet to his bed, managing to grab a blanket as he passed out.
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“Mullet? C’mon, I know you are back, I saw the ship in the hanger. You awake? Muu—uuu---uuuu-lllllet! Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!”
Lance glared at the door and then down at his hand. He could not believe he needed to go to Keith of all people. Worse, the grumpy emo goth whatever did not deign to answer his gentle knocks. Well, he had a solution to that issue. Looking down both directions of the hallway to make sure none of the other paladins or the Alteans could see him, Lance removed a small scanner and waved it over the keypad to the door. The boy Coran had dubbed Number Three had stolen it from Pidge’s workshop and it would not due for her to catch him using it. The machine beeped after a few seconds and the door to Mullet’s room opened.
Slipping in, Lance tripped over a pile of something in front of the door in the pitch-dark room. With a stifled oath, he managed to hop twice on his left leg and catch his balance. The light cut off as the door shut behind him. With a muttered word that would have Shiro giving him a lecture, he raised his voice to request a dim light. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Keith on the bed with his bare feet dangling off the edge as if he had just fallen into the bed. The blanket lay diagonally across his body and his hands lay close to the edge.
Biting his lip, Lance debated his dilemma. From what little he could see, Keith looked terrible. Dark bruises of exhaustion rimmed his eyes and the distinctive smell of the Altean rub for sore muscles wafted into his nose. After a small internal debate, he took the three steps to the bed and nudged one of the bare feet sticking of the bed.
“Yo. Mullet. Wake-up my friend. Need some help here and you are the only mullet in town who can do the job!” Lance put an effort into making his voice sound cheerful and upbeat. He frowned a moment later as Keith did not so much as twitch in his sleep. Gnawing his lip again, he looked back at his hand and debated his options. Promising to make it up to Keith later, he reached out with his right arm, and gave Keith a shove on his shoulder before jumping back.
The next moment, Lance found himself pinned to the ground with a hand across his throat and a very animated Keith growling at him with slightly glowing yellow eyes.
“What in all the quiznacking world do you think you are DOING, Lance? Are you TRYING to get yourself killed? Or maybe you just cannot let me sleep for one quiznacking dobash without interrupting? What is so quiznacking important that you woke me up?”
“Um, well. You see.” Swallowing hard, Lance started to rethink his decision to wake up the grumpy emo one of the group. A few more stuttering words had Keith blowing back his bangs and sitting back on his heels.
“WHAT??”
With a yelp, Lance closed his eyes and held up his left hand. “I am kind of, well, stuck.”
He could not see the Black Paladin’s expression, but he felt the change in body language. “What the quiznack, Lance?”
“It’s totally NOT my fault, Keith.” Lance winced at the whine in his voice and opened his eyes. “It like an Altean version of a Chinese Finger puzzle. Only, I cannot get my hand out! I have tried everything, and it is just stuck. So, I figured you could maybe use your blade or your bayard to cut it off my hand?” His voice drifted off as he watched the incredulous expression on Keith’s face morph to irritation and then exasperation.
“And this COUND’T WAIT until I woke up? If it is an Altean puzzle, why didn’t you go to Coran or Allura or even Pidge?”
Lance looked everywhere he could except Keith and then muttered under his breath.
“What?" Boy, did Keith sound like his panties had crawled up way to far. "If you are going to wake me up, have the decency to at least talk clearly.”
“Because it is like the fourth time it has happened.”
Keith looked at Lance then at the puzzle stuck on his hand then back at Lance. With a sigh, he levered himself to a standing position and staggered to the dresser where he had left his knife. The room swayed around him as the adrenaline from the abrupt wakening faded back to a deep exhaustion. As he turned back to Lance, he watched as the figure of Lance broke into two before morphing back to one. Shaking his head, he knelt down next to Lance and looked at the puzzle. It seemed to fit fairly snugly and Keith did not know if he could avoid cutting Lance.
With a sigh, he handed Lance the blade. “Here, I think you should do the cutting. I am too tired, and frankly afraid I would cut you.”
His hand trembled as he held out his knife to Lance and then his vision momentarily greyed out as the sound of his heartbeat filled his ear. “Just put it back in my drawer and let yourself out.” He struggled to one knee, and then managed to take the two steps to his bed. Grabbing the blanket, he let himself fall down with the blanket covering him. “And” he slurred as his eyes closed again, “Remind me to tease you mercilessly later.”
Lance watched as Keith barely made it to the bed before falling asleep again. Now he felt extra bad for waking him up. If he had taken a minute to look around, he would have seen the blade on the dresser and could have used it and retreated without letting Keith know his humiliation. Keith started to say something as he fell on the bed, but Lance could not make out a single word.
Asking the computer to raise the level of the light, Lance took one last look at his leader. He really looked terrible. Maybe he could ask Hunk to help him make something delicious and nutritious for Keith. After all, the Leader of Voltron needed to perform at a top level.
With a sign, he carefully set the blade against the bottom of the puzzle. With slow motions and sweat dotting his lip, Lance managed to slice the bottom of the puzzle away. He then moved to the side, and finally with careful deliberation, slipped the tip of the knife between his skin and the lip of the puzzle. The knife went through the box like a hot knife through soft butter.
With a grateful sigh, Lance shook his hand out and stretched the fingers. After vargas, hours, however you measured it, trapped in that box, it felt marvelous to move again.
Lance glanced at the bed as he gathered up the pieces and returned the knife back to the dresser. Keith did not so much as twitch. With a grimace of guilt, he picked up all the dirty clothing, towels, and Lance did NOT want to identify any of the bits and pieces stuck to Keith’s clothing.
With a smile and a glimmer of an idea, Lance left Keith to sleep, making sure to return the room to its darkened state.
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Keith woke slowly. He did not know how long he had slept and still felt exhausted, but the growling in his stomach demanded attention. With a groan, he carefully stretched stiff muscles. As the lights came on, Keith noticed a chair in the room with a basket on top of it.
Standing, he stepped over and looked. In the box, he saw not only his Blade uniform clean of all the alien bits and pieces, but his boots looked repaired. As he moved the uniform, he saw a second pair of boots, some soft indoor shoes, and casual clothing. As he lifted one of the shirts, black with a red accent, a note fell out.
“I am sorry and THANK YOU!”
Keith just smiled and exited to find something for his growling stomach.
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