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Keith was more than used to bruises. When he was a little kid, he used to get into fistfights quite often. Around the time his father had passed, his temper had never been more out of control.
Until Shiro came around. He truly was the brother Keith never had and could only ever hope for.
But for Lance?
Well, occasional bruises here and there were one thing, but a black eye, a bleeding nose, and a bloodied smile weren’t common at all.
“Lance!” Keith rushed to the front door the second he saw his boyfriend’s face painted in a hue of purples and reds all too familiar to him.
Lance had gone out to meet with an old friend. Keith hadn’t gone because he had an important project due soon and well… he wanted to give Lance privacy, even if he’d said it wasn’t a big deal.
The bar he’d gone to was just a couple of blocks away, so Lance had insisted he didn’t need to take the car.
Keith could tell, beyond the visible ache in his face, that Lance was exhausted from the walk. His whole body looked heavy, as if his knees were about to give out, and his breathing wasn’t nearly as stable as it should be.
He kept drawing ragged breaths, and with each, Keith’s worry increased.
It was also much later into the night. Lance had told Keith he’d be home by 12, tops, but when he wasn’t, Keith didn’t even think to worry. In fact, he’d even been happy, believing Lance was enjoying his night so much he hadn’t even noticed it was already past midnight.
But now…
Keith felt something clenching the inside of his throat.
“Hi baby, I’m okay, don’t worry,” Lance said easily, with a faint smile as he closed the front door behind him.
Telling Keith not to worry was the punchline of the joke. Lance had never looked so wrecked.
Keith came closer to examine the damage on his boyfriend’s tan skin. He couldn’t believe how hard it was to look at him. He’d seen much worse and more brutal injuries, even some of them on himself. But to see them on the person he loves?
It was nauseating.
There was a horrible bruise on his cheekbone, very close to the eye. It was coated with a dash of blood too, but Keith couldn’t tell if it was from the bruise itself or if it was a stain from another hit.
Thankfully, Lance’s nose didn’t look injured. Maybe the impact from another close punch was what triggered the blood to spill. The one responsible for it probably was the one on his upper lip, which was terribly gashed closer to his mouth, causing Lance’s white teeth to get coated with a glassy red.
“What the fuck happened?” Keith asked, clearly distressed. His eyes were wide and his face scrunched up in worry. He was bombarded with so many emotions at the same time that he felt dizzy himself.
He met Lance’s eyes again, and his expression was hard to place. He looked dazed and tired, but he also seemed oddly proud and perhaps even amused by Keith’s worry. He tried to take Lance’s hand to lead him to the couch, but it was then that he noticed Lance was holding something.
Or rather, someone.
“I named him Kosmo on my way home,” Lance said with another oddly soft, bloody smile as if he hadn’t just been kicked around like a rag doll, by the looks of it. His eyes shifted from the fluffy puppy in his hands to Keith, “isn’t he adorable?”
The dog’s fur was a hue of black so dark it almost looked blue in the apartment’s light. But just like Lance, he had splatters of blood here and there. Again, Keith couldn’t tell if they were stains of blood that had dripped from Lance’s face, or if Kosmo was wounded himself.
Probably both.
“Can you put him down?” Keith asked, worry increasing as he saw the dog’s condition.
“Actually,” Lance began, straightening his back a little, “I just came here to ask you for a ride to the vet, see, there’s no way I can walk all the way to—“
“—Lance, you need a trip to the hospital yourself.”
“No I don’t,” the brunet replied almost defensively, “it’s just a few scratches and bruises, babe, it doesn’t hurt that much.”
Keith glared at him.
“I’m fine, I promise!” Lance tried to use the softest and most honest voice his sore throat could muster, “But this little guy? I’m not so sure. I think his front paw might be broken, and maybe he got a few other cuts too.”
“Lance, what happened?” Keith repeated his question, caressing Kosmo’s head softly, careful to avoid any of the patches of fur that were coated in blood. Those cute puppy eyes instantly began to close at the touch.
“I can tell you on the way to the vet,” Lance tried to bargain with his signature charming smile.
“Lance, there’s no way I’m taking you—“
“—But!”
“—No! Not when you’re like this. I’ll call Pidge, she’ll be over in a minute.”
Lance’s shoulders slumped, yet he didn’t protest any longer. Deep down he must have known he wouldn’t win this argument.
He tried to put himself in Keith’s place —actually, he’d been in Keith’s place many times before— and he knew he wouldn’t let him not get his wounds treated immediately as well.
So, he let Keith handle it.
Lance distantly heard him talking to someone on the phone and perhaps getting some ice from the fridge, Lance couldn’t tell exactly.
In the meantime, he slowly walked over to the couch and sat down unceremoniously, instantly wincing in pain, which Keith caught by the corner of his eye. Right after, he hung up the phone.
“Does anything else hurt?” Keith came closer to Lance and kneeled in front of him, handing him the wrapped towel with ice.
The puppy was still curled up in Lance’s arms, resting on his lap.
Lance shook his head, although he instantly regretted it, as it made the whole room spin for a few seconds. He closed his eyes tightly before opening them again, a sheepish smile already on his lips.
Keith gave him an unimpressed look.
“It’s just my stomach,” Lance gave in with a sigh, but he still tried to sound relaxed, “I’m sure it’s just because of how much I was moving a few minutes ago, ya know, walking all the way here…”
Bullshit. And honestly? Lance knew it was bullshit too, even if he wanted it not to be.
“Let me take him,” Keith said, referring to Kosmo, “Pidge will arrive any minute now, I’ll help her settle him in her car.”
He knew Lance would want to do that himself, seeing just how attached and worried he’d become for this puppy, but he couldn’t let him move from the couch. Not when it seemed like he was a breath away from fainting.
Lance, thank goodness, agreed.
He carefully handed the wounded dog to Keith, and immediately, Kosmo seemed to relax even further. He even licked Keith’s hand.
“Hey, that’s unfair!” Lance faked indignation, “I saved you and your favorite is Keith? Traitor.”
Keith laughed as Lance continued to exclaim, “Ugh, why can't I win anything?!”
“Hey you won my heart, isn’t it enough of a trophy?”
Lance laughed, instantly regretting it as he winced in pain, gripping his stomach, “Who knew you’d get cheesy if I’m on the verge of death.”
Keith groaned and rolled his eyes, “You are not on the verge of death, Lance.”
“I know, but you keep looking at me like I am.”
Silence.
Lance’s smile faltered for a second, and it seemed like Keith’s concern had begun to spread into his own features.
Fuck.
How come Lance was so great at this whenever their roles were reversed? Keith only ever treated his own wounds, he didn’t know how to not look as unbelievably worried as he truly was.
He needed to calm down too.
Lance was going to be alright, he knew it. He just had to act like it and not let his world crumble on top of himself.
Now, he understood just how horrible it felt to be the one witnessing your loved one in pain. And it is far worse than being the one on the receiving end of the punches.
Keith finally realized just how much he’d taken Lance’s patience and care for granted because right now, he couldn’t even bear looking at Lance’s beaten face without feeling his gut twist and blood boil.
Someone had a death wish if they thought they could hurt Lance like this and get away with it.
Once Pidge finally came, Keith helped her settle Kosmo in her car and gave her all of the very small amount of information Lance had shared with him. Of course, she was curious to know more about their new fluffy friend, but she didn’t think twice about slamming the accelerator and rushing to the vet. Questions could wait.
As Keith walked back up their apartment, right when he was about to open the front door, he heard a loud “Shit!” followed by something shattering, and a more alarmed “AH! Fuck!”
He opened the door hastily, clearly afraid about what had happened.
His eyes glanced around the room, and in an instant he spotted Lance close to the kitchen counter, holding his right hand up, trying to avoid his fingers from bleeding as much.
And on the floor was the culprit. A smashed glass of water.
“Lance, wh—“ Keith deflated, not even knowing what to say. He quickly walked over to his now-more-bleeding boyfriend.
“Can you please stop getting hurt for a sec?” Keith asked calmly as he came closer, reaching over to hold Lance’s non-bruised cheek.
“Sorry, I was thirsty,” Lance tried to explain as he leaned to the tender touch, “but everything started to move around and I got dizzy. Never noticed the glass was about to slip.”
“Just—“ Keith sighed, then he reached behind Lance’s thighs and easily lifted him up to sit on the counter. “—let me take care of you. Please.”
He noticed Lance’s eyes widen slightly, warmth and affection flooding his gaze.
Keith knew it wasn’t the best time to close the gap between them, but he could only helplessly follow Lance’s wish. And Lance was leaning in, until their foreheads touched and their breaths collided, warm and heavy on their faces.
Inevitably, the moment he gently nudged Keith with his nose, trying to get him to kiss him, Keith could only give in.
He could never oppose that. He never would.
But the kiss was immediately followed by a whimper, and Keith could taste the blood on his lips.
Seems like neither of them remembered the gash on Lance’s lip.
Naturally, Keith stepped back and found Lance’s expression amusing. He almost wanted to laugh. Lance appeared to be more hurt by Keith stepping back than by him rubbing his wound.
“Let’s fix you up,” Keith said with a small smile in the corner of his lips, turning away to properly fill a glass of water, and getting ibuprofen to alleviate the pain now that the adrenaline was fading completely.
He carefully handed them to Lance and stayed right by his side in case the glass started to slip again, or his hands were too shaky.
Once Lance was done, he placed the glass safely beside him, and Keith went to go find the first-aid kit they kept under their bathroom sink.
“Don’t move, okay?” Keith looked back and said in a serious tone while pointing at his boyfriend, who was still watching him closely. Lance held both of his hands up in surrender and chuckled, earning him a short laugh from Keith as well.
As worried as both of them were, the tension had finally lifted from their bodies and from the air around them.
Keith returned fairly quickly, and as soon as he was near Lance, he opened the bag and began spilling its contents out without hesitation.
“Man, I spent like two hours carefully packing that thing,” Lance argued, not wanting to believe how easily his boyfriend was willing to toss things around carelessly.
“You’ll just pack it up again then,” Keith said smoothly, and Lance could see the smile curling on his lips.
“Bold of you to assume I’ll do it without a price,” Lance replied, returning the smugness.
He easily let Keith clean his bloody fingers, apply the healing cream, and wrap the three wounded tips in wide band-aids.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” Keith didn’t hesitate, sparing a mischievous glance at his boyfriend before returning to his work, but not before noticing a cute blush appear on Lance’s cheeks.
However, before Lance was able to retort, Keith changed the subject, finally addressing the question that was burning inside him.
“Can you please tell me what happened to you now?”
The tension almost returned in full. The smile faded from Lance’s lips instantly, and Keith almost felt guilty for banishing it. But he needed to know. He had to.
Keith willed the air around them to steady itself and continue to be comfortable.
Or at least, he hoped it would stay that way.
And as he began cleaning Lance’s face with a warm, wet cloth, the other finally spoke.
“Assholes being assholes,” he said simply, and Keith looked at him unimpressed, trying to pull the real answer out of Lance.
The brunet sighed, “After my friend and I were done, I walked out of the bar and started walking home when I heard a dog crying out, followed by laughter.”
Lance was no longer looking at Keith, and his brows were knitted together in concentration. It seemed as if he were watching those scenes all over again.
“I spotted two full-grown adults —and might I add, jacked motherfuckers— cornering a puppy at the back alley of the bar.”
A beat.
“So naturally,” Lance continued, “I intervened.”
Keith’s gut clenched instantly.
He wanted —scratch that— he needed to know what had happened, but another part of him truly didn’t want to hear the rest of the story. The feeling was just like when you’ll cover your eyes as you watch a horror film, only to keep them open to see right through the gaps between your fingers.
“I asked them what they were doing,” Lance kept going, “and they laughed it off, shamelessly asking me if I wanted to join.”
Keith audibly exhaled through his nose in disbelief as he started to put the healing cream over Lance’s wounds and darkening bruises.
“Kosmo was clearly injured already, and I couldn’t just leave him there to call for help,” Lance breathed in, then continued, “I told them to leave the dog alone and go home. They didn’t like it.”
Keith’s eyes filled with concern and hurt as Lance met them, but his boyfriend merely gave him a smile, and it was as honest as ever. He knew everything he wanted to say just by that look alone.
That he was alright. He was here. And he was so incredibly thankful that Keith was there with him too, helping him and patching him up. Caring for him.
In that same silent language spoken between them with their gazes, Keith told Lance just how worried he was, and just how much it hurt him to see him in pain.
Don’t worry. Lance’s oceans will say.
I can’t. Keith’s midnight sky replies. You’re a piece of me. I love you too much.
Waves of blue crash eagerly as the sun shines above them, golden and filled with warmth. I love you too.
“You should’ve seen the other guys,” Lance interrupted their charged silence confidently, irradiating with pride.
“Knocked them out?” Keith laughed, not knowing how much of what Lance was telling him was just to make him not panic and drop everything to murder those men himself.
Still, he hung to Lance’s words as a lifeline, calming the anxiety rising through his veins and pumping in his heart at the thought of Lance alone in that alley, with no way to protect himself nor the wounded puppy, against two clearly violent men.
“Yeah, actually,” Lance chuckled brightly, “I did.”
A beat.
Keith’s brows knit together, confusion clear on his face. His head even tilted to the side in that way he never notices he does and Lance can’t help but think of him as a cute puzzled puppy.
He tried to dissect the look on Lance’s face, but he only saw honesty and satisfaction staring back.
“Like, out out? Or were they just—“
“—Out out baby,” Lance smiled even more cheerfully, or at least as much as he could with a cut lip.
“How the hell did you manage that?” Keith’s voice got higher with genuine disbelief.
He was stunned, frozen in place, not looking away from Lance.
Lance replied with laughter, “Babe, did I ever tell you who my favorite Avenger was when I was a kid?”
Keith smiled, shaking his head as he managed to un-freeze himself to apply the butterfly band-aids on Lance’s cuts.
“My favorite avenger was, the one and only,” he began with pride, waited for a dramatic second, then finally said, “Natasha Romanoff.”
Keith snorted loudly, because of course she was. In all honesty, he doesn’t think there could be another answer.
“I was so obsessed with her, you have no idea. So much so, in fact,” Lance continued laughing at the memory, “that my mom had to take me to a martial arts academy so I wouldn’t hurt myself when I attempted to copy her.”
The affection Keith felt for Lance at that moment was immeasurable, warmth blooming in his chest, and even his cheeks had started to ache from smiling so hard. He wonders how Lance does it, to make his negative feelings dissipate in a matter of seconds, only to be replaced by overflowing joy and affection.
“And well,” Lance tried to calm down his giggles, “once an avenger always an avenger.”
Keith kept on smiling, finishing to patch Lance up, “You should’ve come up to them and said ‘Did I step on your moment?’ ”
Lance laughed hard, and he didn’t seem to be able to stop. It started to get out of his control, as he began wincing, groaning in pain.
Then, he clutched his stomach, just like he had done earlier on the couch.
Keith looked at him quizzically, then at his torso, then back at him. There was no point in hiding it now.
“I’m sure it’s noth—“
“Lance.”
And that was enough.
Lance removed his hands from his front and placed them at his sides. Keith carefully unbuttoned his shirt, but this time neither of them felt the excitement that usually came with this action.
The further down Keith went, the more worried he began to feel. Anxiety slowly creeping its way back to his head.
Besides the obvious sheet of sweat covering most of Lance’s body, his chest was reddened. Some parts more than others. But what concerned Keith the most were the few blotches of purple here and there painting his abdomen.
“Lance,” Keith repeated, with much more hurt in his voice as he examined the bruises more closely. At least the purple hues were faint.
He gently traced the marks with his index finger, noticing how Lance’s muscles reacted to the touch, and he didn’t miss his sharp intakes of breaths.
“Lance, why didn’t you call an ambulance?” Keith began to argue again, but never raising his voice, “You were clearly injured already, without even counting all of these bruises.”
“Okay, first off,” Lance retorted defensively, “you didn’t even let me finish telling the story.”
Keith straightened his posture and crossed his arms, looking attentively at Lance with a raised brow, as if saying “Enlighten me”. Almost like daring Lance to convince him that calling an ambulance had been off the table.
Lance, of course, defended his case.
“After I literally knocked the fuckers out,” he began with a hint of pride in his tone, “I carried Kosmo and rushed into the bar. And thank god it was almost empty because I’m pretty sure the few clients that were there got quite a scare at the sight.”
Keith’s expression didn’t shift, so Lance continued, swallowing hard.
“I quickly went over to Kolivan,” he said, referring to the bartender and owner they both knew quite well, “I explained what had happened as fast as I could, and I think I had enough evidence pointing to it being self-defense.”
He gestured at himself. Keith glanced up and down, then back to his eyes. Expression still stern and unchanged.
Lance sighed, “I told him to call the police, that the aggressors were still knocked out at the back alley, but I had to take this puppy to the vet.”
Lance made gestures as he explained like he always did. Almost as if he hadn’t just gotten into quite a fight and his muscles weren’t sore.
He looked at Keith closely, then reached out to soften the furrow between his brows with his thumb.
“I gave him my number and address for whenever the cops came for questioning,” he kept talking, sliding his hands down Keith’s chest until he unfolded his arms, holding onto them.
“I’m not letting those fuckers go without pressing charges,” Lance finished.
“Oh, letting them go was never an option,” Keith replied, gently squeezing Lance’s hands, “nobody who dares to hurt you will ever get off the hook.”
Lance’s eyes widened slightly as if he’d only realized something he didn’t know he’d been missing.
“Ooh, right. Me.” He said, voice feeling distant. Keith raised a brow in question, “I was still thinking about them hurting Kosmo, sorry.” Lance admitted, slightly embarrassed, “but— you’re right. Me too.”
Keith rolled his eyes as he sighed in disbelief, how oblivious could he be?
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t call an ambulance,” Keith reminded him, stern expression returning. Perhaps just a bit more relaxed.
“Because we live just a few blocks away, the ambulance would’ve taken longer, and I had to take Kosmo to the vet,” Lance began, almost rambling.
Keith could already invalidate that argument in ten different ways, but he waited for the other to finish.
“Second, I knew you’d get super worried if I told you I was in an ambulance,” Lance said quickly in a single breath, “and I also trust you more than paramedics for this little thing.”
“That’s—!”
“—And third! I wasn’t dying! I don’t know, I didn’t feel like it was— necessary or like, worse enough for me to—“
Keith interrupted with a groan, he couldn’t believe it. Not necessary? Not worse enough? He had to take a step back and rub his eyes.
Oh, fuck.
Realization hit him in an instant.
He’d known this was gonna come and bite him in the ass eventually.
Because Lance was imitating him.
Lance had used his own lines against him.
“God, you’re such an idiot,” Keith breathed out, finally looking at Lance, who had a mischievous look in his eyes.
His grin widened.
“Oh, so you agree?” Lance said, now a perfect imitation of Regina George’s voice, “You agree that not calling for professional assistance when you’re hurt — no matter how badly — and not asking anyone for help is borderline idiotic?”
Keith winced.
Lance reached out to grab Keith’s arms again, eyes still wide and expectant. Waiting for an answer.
Keith sighed deeply. Then, he finally nodded, head hanging low.
“Good,” Lance said simply, and Keith could hear the smile in his voice, “glad this wasn’t only a lesson for me to learn.”
Keith smiled fondly and shook his head. Unbelievable.
He stepped closer to Lance and let himself be wrapped in a warm embrace.
“You’re still an idiot,” Keith laughed, hugging Lance back carefully, and feeling the other’s body relax in his arms.
“Learned it from the best.”