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Orange, he decided, was a terrible colour for a hospital ward. It looked too bright and jaunty against the fluorescent lights and sterile floors and gave him a headache if he stared too long.
Or maybe that was just his concussion.
Keith woke up a few hours ago to his mother and Kolivan wearing, hilariously, matching concerned scowls, interrogating the poor nurse by his bedside on his condition. The nurse fumbled with his IV with nervous fingers and looked infinitely grateful to see him regain consciousness if only to get the two intimidating aliens off her case.
After receiving an awkward pat on the shoulder from Kolivan and a side hug from Krolia, Keith was forced to do multiple blood tests, scans, change his bedding and eat something solid from the Garrison cafeteria. It was well into the afternoon by the time he was finished, and his visitors eventually excused themselves to attend to other matters.
Once he was left alone, Keith let out a heaving sigh, his expanded lungs awakening an ache in his back. Although he could feel the exhaustion weigh heavily on him, there was a buzzing under his skin to get up and do something, and the violent orange Garrison walls weren’t helping alleviate the feeling in the slightest.
He’s never been one to stay still for very long, not for any attention deficiency reasons, but for the fear of somehow wasting time. Like Hunk loves to mention, he’s wound too tight, always feeling like there’s so much more he could be doing, like he doesn’t deserve to rest for even a second too long. And right now, even though Krolia let him know the situation – that his friends are okay, that the fighting is over – he finds it impossible to quell his restlessness.
Just as he was about to risk his jostled brain and jump out of bed for a quick lap around the ward, the door slides open. He sighs again, expecting the nurse to come in and whisk him away for more tests, but he freezes when he sees a little girl standing just inside the threshold. She has chestnut-brown hair bunched into two short ponytails and bright blue eyes. In her small hand she clutches a plush Red Lion toy.
Keith frowns. There’s something familiar about the girl. He knows he recognises her, but his muddled brain can’t fetch her name from its recesses. She stands there a moment, looking surprised, as if she expected someone else to be in his spot. Keith catches himself and forces his face into a more neutral expression. He’s been told by people (Lance) before that his ‘confused’ face looks a lot like his ‘angry’ face, and as truly confused as he is right now, he doesn’t want to scare her.
“Hi,” he stares back, deciding he should try for cautious politeness.
“Hi,” she greets, before slowly walking up to his bedside. Her big eyes crawl upwards towards the bandage resting against his forehead. “Is your head hurt?”
Keith is a little stunned by the question, but answers anyway, “Yeah.”
She nods in understanding, scrutinising his appearance. Her eyes land on his cheek and she frowns seriously. Keith watches her pull away quickly and stick her hand into the pocket of her green shorts, revealing a plaster. She struggles with her small frame to drag over a chair so she can lean over him on the bed, fingers fumbling to open the band-aid. It was purple and patterned with spaceships and stars. Something inside him cries when her hand lands on the side of his face to turn his right cheek towards her. It was so innocent and gentle, the concentrated look on her face so strangely familiar, that Keith understands, probably for the first time in his life, why people want to have kids.
“There,” she fastens the plaster over the scar on his cheek and sits back. Keith can feel that it doesn’t cover the entire area, knows that there’s no point putting one over an already healed wound, but he keeps his mouth shut when he sees the proud look on her face.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
The girl tucks a loose strand behind her ear and lowers herself back to the ground.
“I’m Nadia.”
Nadia…that’s…
“I’m Keith,” he responds, brain finally making the necessary connections about the origins of this girl.
“I know,” she replies simply, turning away to exit the room.
“Wait! You forgot your lion,” Keith quickly calls after her, lifting the toy to show her.
She smiles, as if she knows some secret he doesn’t.
“You can borrow Red. She’ll protect you, that’s what my tío says.” And then she walks out, leaving a warm feeling in Keith’s chest in her absence. Suddenly, the bright hospital lights don’t seem so oppressing anymore. He presses the toy to his chest and leans into the pillow, shutting his eyes.
***
“Nadia! Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Lisa chastises when her daughter enters the hospital room.
She at least has the decency to look sheepish when she joins her brother on the bed.
“Sorry, mamá, I was helping someone.” She bounces on the mattress, giggling as her brother complains at being jostled.
Lisa sighs, walking up to redo her messy pigtails.
“Who were you helping, mija?”
Nadia takes one of Lance’s hands, the one not holding her brother, Silvio, and shakes it around playfully.
“I was helping Tío Lance’s friend.”
Lance perks up in his spot on the hospital bed, shifting the kids around.
“Who? Hunk?” he asks with half-interest. He’s been in this stupid hospital for four days now to heal his “internal bleeding”. Which is stupid. That’s where blood is supposed to be!
Alright, alright, he knows internal bleeding is a very serious condition, blah blah blah. But seriously, he’s bored out of his mind. Hunk and Pidge, those lucky bastards, got away with only mild physical trauma and were discharged two days ago, but they’ve been milling about the hospital to help hook up the new experimental healing pods designed by the Holts. Sometimes he gets lucky, and the three of them eat the lunch his mother prepared. Other times, the kids get restless and demand to see what they’re working on. Hunk and Pidge gladly take advantage of the extra hands by asking them to hand over tools or hold a flashlight. So, that is where Lance expected Nadia to be when she’d left to get water from the cooler earlier and didn’t come back until a good twenty minutes later.
His body hurts when he shimmies around trying to use his toe to scratch his calf with the two seven-year-olds sitting on the blankets. The movement brings a persistent dull ache all over his upper body and in his chest. Oh yeah, he also has a few cracked ribs, no biggie.
“Tío Keith,” Nadia responds bluntly. “You said the lions protected you, so I asked Red to protect him because his head is hurt.”
Lance’s heart jumps suddenly at the mention of the man, giving a whole new meaning to the aching in his chest. Keith has been in a coma since they found him passed out in Black after the battle. As far as Lance knew, he needed surgery for his injuries and was sporting a nasty concussion. That’s partially why Hunk and Pidge were so insistent on getting the healing pod set up, even with the doctors claiming Keith’s condition is stable. Lance wasn’t even aware he’d woken up, let alone casually hanging out with his niece. He has to take a second to regulate his breathing because it was becoming genuinely painful, and not in the metaphorical sense, to think about his friend.
“That’s very nice of you, Nadia,” her mother continues, ignorant to Lance’s internal freak-out, “but you can’t disappear like that, okay?”
“Okay,” she concedes easily in a childlike manner and goes right into questioning Lance like she’s been doing all week – are the lions alive? is there a purple lion? can I hold your gun? Lisa expresses a firm denial at that last one.
A few minutes of easy conversation pass before Silvio quietly interrupts the conversation from Lance’s other side.
“Can I also give Tío Keith my lion?” His small chubby hands hold up the plushie above his head, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed if not for Lance’s reflexes catching him around his back.
“Careful there, bud,” he says breathlessly. He sits up straight and sets his niece and nephew on the ground. His shoulder complains when he pulls himself out of bed, splaying a hand out to lean on his mom for support. She clicks her tongue at him but helps him up, her disapproving gaze raking over his bruised figure.
“Mijo, where are you going?”
Lance chuckles, removing his hand from her grasp and putting his arms around the kids.
“I’m fine, mamá,” he rolls his eyes. “We’re gonna give Tío Keith a visit!” The children whoop, dragging him out the room by his hospital shirt sleeves.
It doesn’t take long to get to Keith’s room, seeing as it’s only a few paces down the hall. He’d only been cleared for short walks around the floor earlier today, so he hadn’t had the chance to venture out and visit him yet, but that doesn’t stop him from knowing exactly where he’d find the Black Paladin.
They get to room 438 and Lance knocks a silly nursery-rhyme tune, but is met with silence. He enters anyway to see Keith slowly cracking his eyes open and groaning as the light of the setting sun shines into them. When he sees them enter, his eyes widen more in surprise.
“Lance,” he softly calls out. The Red Lion plushie sits cutely in his lap, and the colourful plaster on his cheek is framed by shaggy bed hair. Dare Lance say, he looks downright adorable. He can’t help the fond smile stretching his face as he walks further into the room.
“Hey there, Samurai,” he smirks, Nadia extracting herself from his side and immediately jumping onto the bed, making Keith grunt. He chastises her to be careful while Silvio hangs back timidly, and Lance urges him forward with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Silvio here wants to give you something.”
The boy shuffles his feet up to Keith’s side, clutching his own lion protectively to his chest.
“Nadia said you were hurt.”
Keith turns his gaze towards the boy, eyebrows still drawn up in surprise.
“Y–yeah,” he stutters, “but I’ll be okay.” His shoulders bunch awkwardly in that typical Keith-like manner, like when he doesn’t know how to respond to Shiro’s compliments.
Sniffing, Silvio straightens and lifts the lion to show him.
“Blue wanted to come see you, too.”
At this, Keith grins, one canine poking out, and makes Lance’s poor heart jump again. Lance screams internally at the interaction and goes to shut the window blinds while they talk. When he’s done, he hears Keith’s relieved sigh from the other side of the room and smiles to himself.
“Thank you, Silvio.”
“Tío Lance says the lions protected you in space, so now they can protect you here, too.” The boy pushes his toy into Keith’s fumbling hands and climbs onto the bed beside his sister. They sit at the foot of the bed, both quiet for once as they watch Keith curiously. Something about him captivated the children, and they hadn’t stopped asking about him since Voltron returned from space. Lance can’t even blame them. He’d been chasing Keith for years.
Grateful to turn the attention to someone else for a change, Lance makes his way to the edge of the hospital bed, gently shoving his way next to Keith. The beds are surprisingly big, so they fit comfortably next to each other, even if it’s a little snug. With light fingers, he traces some of the bandages on Keith’s arm, feeling mesmerised by the goosebumps that rise in the wake of his touch.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
Keith stares as Lance’s fingers continue drawing patterns on his skin. He stutters out a breath.
“Confused.” He frowns. “I have a concussion.”
“Huh, didn’t think there was anything in that thick skull of yours to concuss,” Lance quips, a teasing smirk easily settling on his lips.
Keith swats his ribs in retaliation, eliciting a sharp gasp from Lance. He immediately presses a warm palm to the inflicted spot, expression souring with guilt.
“Oh, sh– are you okay?” He glances at the kids to see if they caught his almost-swear, but they just watch the two men silently with interest.
“Yeah, yeah…” Lance breathes through his teeth, settling his hand over Keith’s on his ribs and rubbing his knuckles in comfort. “I have a couple of cracked ribs.”
The look on his friend’s face turns even more devastated.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to–“
“It’s okay,” Lance stops him, extracting the other’s hand and interlacing their fingers over the blanket. They catch each other’s eye for a moment, something warm settling over them – a kind of vulnerability Lance can’t yet decipher.
“Are you two going to kiss?” Silvio asks innocently from where he sits across from them. Lance is pulled from the strange haze and nearly lets go of Keith’s hand in embarrassment, but Keith just clutches it harder, ears flushing as he looks off to the side.
“Ew! I don’t want to see that!” Nadia complains, sticking her tongue out in disgust and squirming against the sheets.
Fumbling, Lance trips over his words a couple times before he’s able to get out, “Nadia, Silvio, go find your mom.” Immediately, despite their earlier words, the children start complaining.
“But Tío Lance–“
“Now.”
They grumble as they move off the bed, and it’s only with promises of meeting Kosmo again that the twins relent and finally exit the room, leaving Keith and Lance alone.
“Don’t offer up my wolf like that,” Keith grumbles weakly, leaning back on his propped-up pillow. Lance traces the long line of his throat to where it dips into pale collarbones, partially obscured by the orange hospital shirt.
“Hey, I named him, so I should get at least half custody,” he argues just for the sake of arguing, trying to bring some normalcy back with everything that’s happened.
Keith has closed his eyes again, but a small smile still finds its way onto his face.
“Fine,” he relents, sinking further into the bed. After a second, Lance joins him, wrangling the pillow so that they can share. It leaves him on his side, breathing inches away from Keith, who faces the ceiling. Their hands remain awkwardly intertwined until Lance switches to hold Keith’s with his left one instead. They settle down, his steady puffs of breath hitting Keith’s flushed cheek.
“Don’t do that again.”
“What?” Keith cracks an eye open to glance at him.
“You were in a coma for four days, Keith,” Lance says quietly. “When we found you in the Black Lion, it…” he shudders a breath, closes his eyes against the bloody memory, “it scared me.”
“Careful, Sharpshooter. It’s starting to sound like you like me,” the man smirks handsomely, the tired lilt in his voice causing somersaults in Lance’s stomach. But rather than raise his guard like he usually does, Lance chokes on the feeling in his chest, sensing the familiar prickle behind his eyes, and is powerless to stop his own sincerity.
“You’re an idiot if you think I don’t.”
Keith stares at him, head tilted to the side and mouth slightly opened in a silent oh. Lance doesn’t shy away for once, something about the atmosphere of the room calling for quiet, earnest tones. So he guides Keith to mirror him by laying on his side, noses brushing as they shift around on the rough sheets. They look at each other – blue to grey – and cradle the warmth the other provides, keeping it close to their chests.
“I think I’m way past the point of just liking you, Lance.” The look he settles on Lance makes him question for a moment if he did actually die when that battle cruiser aimed a shot at him. But no, the feeling of Keith’s warm fingers, naked without their gloves for once, felt real intertwined with his own. The cascading ebony locks that threaten to cover his eyes, the pink of his chapped lips, the flutter of his eyelashes as their faces drew nearer – that was all real.
The moment their lips touch feels like coming home to Lance, but not in the way that coming back to Earth was like. When Lance’s armoured feet touched the ground, and he saw his family for the first time in almost two years, it felt like a tidal wave crashing down on him. He was relieved and terrified to see how his home has changed, anxious and desperate to take down the Galra Empire with renewed vigour.
But this moment with Keith is gentler. It feels like coming home to soft evening lights, the smell of a homecooked meal wafting through the air as you take your shoes off to line them up next to another familiar pair. It feels like slow waltzes through the living room and tripping on littered dog toys. It feels like subdued nights and lazy mornings and the taste of bitter coffee on your tongue. Kissing Keith feels like home.
He sighs deeply when Keith brings a hand up to cradle Lance’s cheek, thumb swiping under his eye and fingers sliding through his hair, and he ignores the tinge of discomfort it causes his ribs. They move in harmony, coming together as if it were the most natural thing in the universe. Lance sucks and nips at Keith’s lips, each soft noise he elicits flowing through him until all he can think is how to meld them into one.
When breathing becomes strained, they pull apart languidly, bumping noses with hooded eyes. Keith’s fingers are still hooked behind his ear, massaging patterns into his skin. The look he gives him when he rakes his eyes over Lance’s blushing face makes him infinitely grateful that they survived this war. Now, with no uncertainty, he can dream about their life after. He brings their lips together again, dreaming of home.