Work Text:
Pidge made quick work of getting to their bedroom, closing the door behind them and placing the medkit on their bed. They’d managed to grab it from the med bay and had gone unnoticed — besides, they could fix themselves up no problem.
Pidge rarely sustained any serious injuries, but when they did, it was (apparently) a massive deal. Being the smallest and youngest paladin meant that everyone would freak out when Pidge got hurt. So when a part of their armor got damaged and allowed an enemy to slice up their shoulder, they didn’t tell anyone and they covered it up.
Pidge had laid out some towels on the floor to sit on so that blood didn’t get all over the place. They changed out of their suit into sweatpants and a tank top, careful as to not worsen the injury. After reading a little booklet on how to actually sew stitches, they grabbed a hand mirror and propped it up so they could see what they were working with.
It was a pretty deep gash, but most of the bleeding had stopped by then. They couldn’t tell how many stitches it would take to close it — but it was about time they find out.
Pidge grabbed the needle, threaded it, and carefully began to stitch themselves up.
It hurt. A lot. Pidge hissed out at the stab and sting of the first stitch going in. Fuck, it was really hard to do this with one hand — they were moving painfully slowly. Nevertheless, they kept going, and got one stitch done.
Pidge’s intense focus was broken when there was a knock on their door. They yelped in surprise.
“Hey, Pidge?” a voice called, calm as ever. “I need your help with something.”
It was Keith, and he could not have had worse timing. This was bad.
“Wait, Keith! Don’t—”
Too late! Keith opened the door.
”Pidge, I need—” He stopped as he locked eyes with them.
A heavy silence hung over the room. Keith broke it: “Pidge, what the fuck are you doing?” he said, a little too loud.
”Shhh!” Pidge replied frantically, motioning for him (with their free hand) to close the door. He hesitated, but complied very slowly.
Pidge sighed. “I’m only letting you in because I trust you not to freak the fuck out,” they said. “That being said, don’t freak the fuck out.”
“…Okay,” Keith said, dragging the word’s vowels out in an uncertain-sounding tone. His eyes quickly flitted about the scene in front of him as he tried to process what it was exactly that he was seeing. “Care to explain?” he asked, leaning his back against the door.
Pidge huffed, adjusting their glasses in a shaky manner. “I… got hurt. Just a gash. Everyone always loses their heads when I get hurt, so I’m… putting stitches in myself.”
Keith scoffed in bewilderment. “I hope you know how fucking crazy that is.” He spoke slowly and meaningfully, as if to ensure that Pidge absorbed every single word.
“Yeah, I know. …Keith, do not tell the others.”
”Your secret’s safe with me, you little maniac.”
Pidge flipped him off, wincing at the pain the small movement caused. Keith wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to make it seem like he thought Pidge being in pain was funny (because it most certainly was not). He sat down next to them.
“Do you… want help?” he asked gently.
Pidge’s knee-jerk reaction was to turn him down — being the stubborn little imp they are — but they understood that they could really use the extra help. They sighed in defeat, speaking reluctantly. “Yes…”
Keith grinned a little bit and gestured for Pidge to come closer. Pidge turned so that Keith could see the gash, and he didn’t even flinch at the sight of it. “Did you get one stitch in?” he asked, to which Pidge nodded.
“Do you know how to stitch…?” they asked.
Keith shrugged. “I’m sure you can walk me through it,” he said nonchalantly. Pidge silently took a second to appreciate just how chill and unfazed Keith acted (at least, around them). It was really helpful considering the situation they were in.
They hesitated for a fraction of a second, but then handed Keith the needle. Pidge instructed him on what to do, and he managed to get the second stitch done pretty well (albeit with a cry of pain from Pidge, which was to be expected, and Keith asking if they were okay).
Pidge looked at it. “Not bad.”
“Definitely better than yours,” Keith commented.
Pidge rolled their eyes. “You get to use both hands, of course yours is better. Now can you hurry up and keep going?” they said.
“Fine, fine,” Keith replied, continuing with the stitching.
Keith had to stop a few times because Pidge was in pain, but they got through it together and eventually had finished. Keith tied off the last stitch and Pidge clipped the thread.
“That’s a lot better,” Pidge said, looking at their shoulder. “How many stitches?”
“Twenty-five, including the one you did.”
Pidge hummed in acknowledgement. “I should cover this up. Can you get me some gauze?”
With Keith’s help, the two wrapped the area in the gauze so that the area would stay dry & the stitches untouched.
“Thanks for your help, Keith.” Pidge smiled softly at him.
Keith nodded. “Of course.”
“You’re not gonna tell anyone about this.”
“I know, I know. I won’t.”
“Good.”