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I stuck my thumb snug between my lips, wrapping my bedding around me tighter until I was officially a blanket burrito. I did not bother to move from my place on the lounge couch, knowing no one would come down here until at least the next morning. No one ever finds me here. It’s not like I’m hiding, as this is just about the most public place I could hang out, but no one ever comes. And it’s not like I’m being subtle with my entire bed worth of comfort objects on top of me. I’m alone. Well, aside from the mice who come scurrying in and out every few vargas or so.
I rubbed the scratchy blanket against my face, wishing desperately for my fuzzy comforter back home. I didn’t even bring my blue lion slippers to the living area, as those are the closest I have to plushies in the vast expanse of space. But they could never compare to my favorite plushie Darby. I can’t even go back to that space mall earth store to look for little gear, Shiro and Allura would hound me for why I needed to go back to a useless shop. I’d just waste their time. And as far as I have seen, no other swap moons or space malls or anything at all have anything akin to my treasured little things back on Earth.
It’s not like I could tell them what I’m looking for or why I need it. They’d never shut up about how much of a baby I am… literally. Quiznak, they’d never let me hear the end of it. I can already hear it now, that I’m too pathetic to be a Paladin. That I’m too weak to be a fighter. That I’m insane. That I should have never been a pilot in the first place. That I’m not to be trusted. That I’m weak. That I’m not only the seventh wheel but unworthy to even be a wheel at all.
I always thought that once I left the Garrison, I would have the freedom to indulge in my secret little coping mechanism. But now that I’m away from the school, I’m more trapped than ever. I can’t even try out the more intense gear like pull ups… or diapers. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for leaving my paci behind, not that I would have known when we went after Shiro that we would end up in deep space. I left behind my paci and my ba ba- I mean my bottle, and my plushies. Darby and Winnie the Pooh and Mickey Mouse and Olaf and my carebear and Fluttershy and all of them. I didn’t even have enough plushies before and now I don’t have any at all…
I sucked my thumb harder, not caring to pretend I’m not regressing. I let the tears pressing against my eyes drip down onto the couch with each blink. Even if I explained how badly I need this, how being little helps me cope, it’s not like any of them are caregivers. I’ve never even had a caregiver, at least not in person. And the online thing never did much for me anyway, I need to be held and cuddled, coddled and played with. How could any of them even consider helping me when they won’t even so much as hug me?
I had to close my eyes as I laid on my side, my tears dripping across my face from one eye into the other. I didn’t bother sniffling, knowing my snot would leak out of me either way. I’m disgusting.
Hunk would never judge me, at least not without a few maliceless jokes, but not even he would understand why I need this. No one ever could here.
Everyone assumed the youngest in the family gets all the attention. Not my family. Not with my siblings. With four big shadows to get trapped in, there just wasn’t enough room for stupid Lance. With the McClains being the youngest means being forgotten about.
I let out a soft sob, instinctively covering my mouth even though I knew no one was coming. “M-mommy,” I begged, even though I knew she can’t hear me out here. I’m a million light years away and yet I can’t help but call for her, for love and comfort , when I feel so smol. “Miss chu mama,” I rubbed at my eyes with balled fists but it only seemed to make me cry harder. I put my fingers back in my mouth, sucking on my pointer and middle fingers aggressively. But it didn’t calm me down.
My nose was running so much I could no longer breathe through it, needing to open my mouth to get in any air. Though that only made me cry harder as my only method to self soothe now became ineffective. “pwease…” I didn’t bother pronouncing like a teenager my own age, letting myself be little. Be pathetic and needy.
I was sobbing so hard I did not even hear the footsteps approaching, nor did I hear the sucked in breath as they heard my wails. “Lance, are you okay?” But the words didn’t comprehend in my brain. They walked around the couch, my eyes were blurry from the tears to see them clearly. “Lance, what are you doing?” Their voice was filled with just as much confusion as concern.
I asked around the fingers in my mouth, “Keef?” I guess I’m too little to say ‘Keith.’ Wait, wait, wait, the fingers in my mouth?! I pulled them out with a pop, leaving my hand covered in saliva. “Keith, hey, hi,” I tried to sound big but even with his name pronounced correctly my voice was too high pitched.
He furrowed his brow, seemingly more lost with every breath I take, “you’re crying,” he pointed out the obvious, to which I wiped at my tears and snot with the back of my hand, “what’s wrong?” Why isn’t he asking about me sucking on my fingers like a toddler? Just because he grew up isolated doesn’t mean he doesn’t know that that was a weird thing for a teenager to do.
I cleared my throat, trying to deepen my voice to no avail, “Nuffin- I mean nothing,” I emphasized my correction as I sat up on the couch. “What are you doing up so late?” I tried to deflect. Even I know my attempts are futile. It’s too late. After years of being like this I’m caught by Mullet of all people.
‘Tried’ being the key word. “You can’t pretend I didn’t see you chewing your fingers,” I was sucking on them, not chewing, get your facts straight. “You’re clearly not fine, but if you don’t want to talk to me then we’re getting Shiro.” Wait what? Our team leader can’t know about this!
I was shaking my head even before I said, “no, no, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I forced a smile, “see? All is well in waffleville, so chill.” As much as I wanna beg him to take care of me, I know Keith would never. He doesn’t know how to interact with kids, let alone a little. It’s not like anyone ever knows how to deal with me, they never have my entire life. It was always go away, Lance. Go play by yourself Lance. Take care of yourself Lance. Comfort yourself Lance.
He let out a deep sigh, “look, either you can tell me what I can do to help or we can get someone who actually knows how to comfort people.”
I did not mean to blubber out, “‘m sorry,” my smallness creeping back out.
His eyes somehow widened yet softened at the same time, “you don’t have to be sorry,” he crouched down in front of me, “I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry I sounded mad,” who knew Mullet could apologize so easily? “Do you uh, want a hug?” He asked so uncertain and careful, like if he said the wrong words I would be a sobbing mess again. That’s valid, though.
I nodded quickly, reaching out grabby hands, wanting him to initiate the hug. He leaned forward and wrapped me in his arms, soft and gentle like he was unsure if he was doing it right. I only pulled him closer, to which he moved onto the couch to cuddle me closer. “Keef,” I murmured needily, “hugs.”
He took a breath, clearly debating something before he asked, “what’s going on?”
I don’t know if it was the exhaustion from crying or my desperation to be cared for or just how little I feel, but I answered honestly, “feew widdwe,” I messed up my ‘l’s’ and ‘w’s’ like a baby. The cat is out of the bag now, or I guess the lion is.
“Oh,” he said simply, “okay,” he clearly had no idea what I was talking about. But him not running away in disgust is better than nothing, right? “What does that mean?” But I just let out a whine, not feeling like talking so much. “Can Hunk help, does he know what’s happening?” I whined louder, hoping he could understand my denial. “Okay? No Hunk?” I nodded, pressing my gross face into his shoulder. He tensed, but did not back away. “Is there anyone you want me to get?” He asked again.
I held onto him tighter, “Keef,” I drew out his name way too long. “Wa’ chu,” I told him honestly. Who knew little me would be the one to reveal my feelings? “Pweaze,” I asked, pressing against him so hard it was like I was trying to merge with his body.
“I’m here,” he rubbed his hand up and down my back, “just please promise me you’ll explain what’s happening later,” I nodded quickly, happy to do anything if it meant he wouldn’t leave me. “Okay, okay, thanks,” he said. “Is there anything you need?”
You. You to hold me close and never let go. You to cuddle me and love me. You to be willing to do this again. You to let me need you.
When I opened my mouth to speak, my lips rubbed against his shirt collar, “stay pweaze,” I couldn’t help myself from beginning to suck on the fabric of his shirt. He tensed again, but didn’t stop me. He moved one hand up to run his fingers through my hair, while the other continued to rub my back. I melted into his touch, never wanting it to end. I let out a yawn, squeaking while I did, making the shirt fall out of my mouth. He made a small hum, but did not say anything.
He’s always been better with his actions than his words, anyway. And right now, he is succeeding in his every action.
He slowly and gingerly untangled my hair with his fingers, my eyes closing in the comfort. I began to nibble on his pajama top again, enjoying how the shirt smelled like him. This time he didn’t tense up awkwardly. He shifted slowly, as to not startle me, so that he was leaning against the back of the couch. He kept me in his lap, only moving his hand away to place my blanket over me more fully, before cuddling me once again. Somehow blankie feels softer when he wraps it around me. I tried to fight off another yawn, but I failed.
Something about him holding me so close and intimately makes me feel littler than I ever have before. No amount of plushies or blankies could ever compare to this.
He chuckled at my second squeak, so much softer than I've ever heard him laugh, “go to sleep, I’m not going anywhere,” he told me gently but firmly. Not feeling up to being a complete brat… tonight at least, I nodded sleepily into his shoulder. I clung to him tight, just to make sure he could not break his word when I drift off. As sleep was finally taking over, I could have sworn I felt a soft kiss be pressed to the top of my head. But I could have been imagining it.
I can only pray to the ancients that it was real.