Archive of Our Own

Rising tensions within the Empire should be forcing the Paladins to take greater precautions for their own safety. They know with Zarkon dead and Lotor that the Empire would be grasping at anything to get the upperhand again. Voltron was winning, that is, if war is to ever have a winner. 

Still, Voltron remains active and on its feet. They still need to pull information from active vessels and they still have to respond to distress calls. It’s a part of their job description, and if they don’t do it they run the risk of the scales tipping out of their favor. Keith says they don’t have time to be careful, but that’s easy for him to say when he’s the one they’re after. He’s the one at risk. He’s undeterred by the multiple attempts on his life, he says that he can handle it.

Even with Keith’s uncanny ability to fight, he still makes mistakes. As much as he is galra he is human. He’s a great fighter but he’s still flesh and bones. Keith tends to neglect his surroundings when he’s ‘in the zone,’ so to speak, but Lance is always there to catch those errors.

Not this time.

He thought Keith was following closer than he was. He doesn’t notice anything wrong until he hears glass clattering to the floor and Keith screaming out.

“Oh dude— Jesus!” Lance turns around and he’s gunning down the swordsman that is towering over Keith’s now crumpled body without thought. He aims for the arm that is about to bear the sword down on Keith’s neck, but he ends up hitting more than just that. 

Keith makes a gurgling noise and folds more in on himself, blood gushing out from beneath him. There’s loud sounds of agony coming from the pile, Keith’s body vibrating enough that the metal of his suit clatters against the floor.

He jolts and lets out another ear splitting scream, almost inhuman. Lance hears a crack but he doesn’t know where it came from. 

“Fuck— oh my god, Keith!” Lance screams. “What the fuck, what the fuck!!” There’s a chorus of yelling over the comm-line– several people chiming up to ask what’s going on. Lance can’t differentiate the different voices and he doesn’t care. He focuses his attention on Keith, putting a hand on his back to try and guide him upwards. Keith groans lowly, doing little to help Lance. 

“Stop, stop, stop,” Keith grunts. 

“Let me see,” Lance says, getting Keith to lean against him. Then, over the comm-lines “We need help, now!”

The main wound is on his abdomen and it’s gushing blood faster than Lance can even begin to get a reasonable idea in his head, so he does the next best thing and hoists him up into the air, determined to get out of this hellhole. 

“Oough,” Keith groans. His eyes close tightly, teeth gritting. Bad, horribly so. 

“Stay with me,” Lance says, looking down a hallway to make sure there are no looming threats. 

“God, Lance, put me down,” Keith says. “That feels awful.” 

“No,” Lance says, dipping down a side hallway, avoiding sentries he sees in the distance. If he can just get a little further he can get to Red. Keith makes an awful coughing sound and Lance worries he might be choking on his own blood until he speaks. 

“Lance, please,” Keith begs, his voice hoarse. “Go get back up or something. Put me down.” Keith groans at the end of his sentence, the hand on his shoulder gripping tightly as if trying to get Lance to stop. 

“I’m not leaving you, you fucking idiot,” Lance says through gritted teeth, rounding another corner. 

“I’m not asking you to leave me— just— put me down and come back for me,” Keith replies. His voice is strained and the side of Lance’s armor is very quickly turning dark red. Someone comms over to hang on a bit longer and says that they’ll be there soon. Keith rattles out another cough, Lance is sure they hear it.

Lance ducks down, quickly shooting down the sentries guarding the next corridor, mentally preparing his next steps. Mapping out an exit or at least a safe place to drag Keith into. He hoists him up from where he had started to fall.

“Lance, please, stop,” Keith pleads. “It hurts.” 

Lance pauses and looks over at Keith. He’s left a trail of blood behind him, and more is rapidly pooling at his feet. He’s bleeding much faster than normal and Lance realizes how much more damage he’s causing by dragging Keith through the halls. 

He resigns, finding the nearest empty room and locking them in it. 

“Hold still,” Lance says, putting Keith down, looking around them for anything they could possibly use as a bandage. Keith protests.

“What are you doing– go,” he says, glaring at him. Keith attempts to shift, making a wounded noise as he realizes he can’t. Lance can distantly hear His teammates grunting over the comm- undoubtedly getting to those heavily guarded sectors that the two of them disrupted. 

Keith gives up on holding his head up; instead, it lolls forward, his chin hitting his chest. Blood drips out of his mouth. 

“No no no, head up, Keith, please,” Lance says, sitting beside him. He grabs Keith’s hands and presses them into the wound. “Keep pressure on it— okay?” Keith nods, but his hands barely move to meet Lance’s request. Lance prays that someone gets to them soon. Keith’s sclera is tinted yellow, Lance can’t think of why that could be. 

He brings his hands up to Keith’s face, brushing the hair from his face- hair matting with blood from where he hit the floor. Already drying. Some parts are still dripping.

Keith’s nodding off. That won’t do. He can’t die. Not here, and not now.

“Keith, please,” Lance sobs, looking into the increasingly dulling eyes. Decides then that he needs to keep him awake no matter what- decides to drop the bomb on him because what else can he do.

“ ‘m good,” Keith says. 

“Keith I love you so fucking much- please.” 

Keith’s eyes momentarily go wide before he smiles. 

“You do?” Lance nods.

“Yes– yes Keith,” he runs along the side of Keith’s head. “So much, so so much.” 

“That’s… cool,” Keith says, eyes slipping shut. “I love you too.” His smile is so sweet and his eyes don’t reopen. ‘Love you lots– yeah.” 

Lance has to keep Keith’s heart pumping for him. He feels the dull thud in his chest rapidly fading- sometimes completely. 

He’ll be okay. He has to be.

How can he not be when so many people care so much about him? 

Lance is shaking so bad but he has to ignore it because how can he not when Keith is actively dying under him. He has to ignore the intense wave of emotion every time he feels Keith’s heart give out- he has to because if he doesn’t then he can't get it restarted so he continues to keep it going.

Eventually someone escorts them to a lion,

He injects Keith with the random syringes someone else in the lion hands him because he has to trust that it’ll do anything to help. 

Keith’s in critical condition when they get him into the medbay. Luckily enough for Lance, Coran fully takes over for him as soon as they enter the facility.

Keith looks awful. The Alteans try their best to clean as much of the blood off of him as possible but they have little time to worry about the cosmetics of things. 

After he’s in the pod, all that’s left is to wait. 

Keith is largely unresponsive, and his vitals don’t improve much at all during his initial healing pod period. It gets scary enough that Coran forces everyone out of the room- the telltale hissing of the pod opening behind them is enough to let the team know that things have taken a turn for the worse. Bad enough that Coran is moving Keith into a more hands-on type of care. 

They’ve had to do it once before– when Pidge had accidentally ingested a hard sum of poison at a meeting. It wasn’t her fault; they just didn’t properly scan a fruit given to them before eating it, completely unaware that it was incredibly toxic to humans. Coran had chosen to let the poison run through her system before propping her in a pod. She was past the immediate risk of dying, just felt like shit for a few days. The healing pod would heal up any remaining symptoms. 

He’ll do the same with Keith once he’s stable.

It’s different this time, though. Keith isn’t fighting a horrible stomach ache or a deadly chemical. This certainly wasn’t inflicted upon him by some unaware prospecting ally. Coran is too preoccupied with ensuring he doesn’t die to give them updates. 

Keith’s half-blooded nature has proven itself to be pretty useful. He can use the biometric scanner on ships and get through security without causing any blips on the radar. When he “flips over,” it’s pretty badass. It’s cool to see the way that Keith suddenly appears to get faster and stronger when one of his teammates are in danger, which is something Lance wouldn’t even have thought possible given Keith’s already gifted nature in the athletics department. 

The big downside of it all is that they’re up against an empire that has had centuries dedicated to ways to exploit its own weaknesses. They know what they’re reactive to; what’ll make them fall hard and fast. They know how to kill their blood. 

Ultimately, Allura says it’s safe to blame the Empire's Altean witch for Keith’s sudden and potentially fatal condition. It’s not something a normal foot soldier would have access to or even know how to get to.

A single, tiny vial of quintessence, concentrated in nature, loaded into a small tranquilizer gun that went completely unnoticed until it hit Keith. The reaction was immediate, signaled by a loud yelp and the sound of Keith falling to the ground, writhing in pain. 

Keith had known instantly what had happened to him, the purple blotches spotting all over his skin enough evidence of the tragedy that had just occurred. He screamed, he screamed a lot. Lance waited no time before he hauled him out of there, mission be damned. He left in a daze, mindlessly flying with the sole purpose of getting Keith to safety. He felt half mad. It hadn’t felt real. 

“It,” Allura starts, voice choked and watery, “was an attack on his life. This wasn’t about any mission or information. It was attempted murder.” 

A cold chill runs through the air at her words, the thought that the Empire has now thought of Keith as more of a threat than a tool. They call him all sorts of names: Treasonous Traitor, Mutt, any other derogatory name they could think of. They don’t care what Keith can offer them anymore; they just want him dead. 

Lance’s fingers twitch, anger coursing through him like he’s never felt before. He’d go out there and kill that bitch himself if leaving the castle didn’t feel impossible at the moment. He’s rooted to his spot, quiet as the team attempts to shift through the mission report. He stares blankly at his workbench– lets his hands clench and unclench on top of it. Focuses on them in a last-ditch effort to ground himself. 

They don’t see Keith or Coran until the third day after the accident. Coran walks into breakfast looking oh-so tired but relieved. The team perks up at his presence. 

“He’s stable,” he says, and that's all it takes for the team to throw their arms around the older man with gratitude unmirrored anywhere else in the universe. 

“Thank you, Coran,” Shiro says, his grip dangerously tight. Coran makes a squeaking noise before carefully reciprocating the affection. 

“You should get some rest,” Allura says softly, guiding him down into a chair to stuff some much-needed food into his face. Coran makes eye contact with Lance as he takes his first bite. Nodding affectionately at the door. 

Lance takes that as permission to rush to the medbay, wanting, no, needing to set eyes on Keith. Confirm that he’s alive and breathing.

And he is. Concealed in the pod, a blue light casts over him, making him look otherworldly and cold. His chest rises and falls in long intervals, the pod doing most of the work for him. Beside him, machinery beeps, alerting its audience to what issues are most pressing to Keith’s health.

His vitals are still low; normal for human rates, but they found out pretty soon after Keith’s return that he needed his medical settings to account for his half-galra genetics. His resting heart rate is more akin to a housecat than a human. He’s stable, though, and that’s what matters most right now. 

It’s just him for the first few minutes, the others no doubt talking to Coran, making sure that he’s good. Lance knows in his heart that the older man will return with the group; he worries about them more than anyone else. He never shows it, but Lance knows Coran shoulders a lot more than he lets on. He slips up sometimes– tells Lance things that he’s probably never spoken out into the open. Lance opens up in return. 

Talking to Coran reminds Lance of confessionals, without the intense feeling of guilt that would claw its way into Lance’s veins when he went. He can trust Coran with information he knows he can’t trust anyone else with; secrets that his teammates would be itching to tell each other. He slips them in while they’re cleaning most of the time. He can keep himself busy on a task, scrubbing with extra elbow grease when he drops something particularly heavy.

That’s why Coran sent Lance out immediately, to give him time to be alone and just look at Keith. Check him over himself and process things for a second without the added commentary from his friends—time to breathe. 

It was long before Keith had ever left for the Blade. If Lance can recall correctly, it had been about a month into the entire expedition when he finally mustered up the courage to admit that he had feelings for Keith. Not that he’d ever imagined in a million years that he’d tell Keith that. Guess panicking sort of forces things out.

The hardest part of that was admitting it to himself. His immediate family didn’t talk about sexuality at all, sort of tiptoeing around the topic. His older sister came out as gay, and his parents simply nodded their heads and left it there. No open discussion, no nothing. 

His grandparents were a different story, though, and Lance had spent enough Sundays trapped in their minivan to have some pretty nasty thoughts drilled into his head that when it came time for him to realize he liked boys, he despised himself for it. 

It was the fueling factor for his rivalry with Keith. He’d shoved his feelings so far down that when he was confronted with them again, he could only possibly explain them with hatred. So, he pulled Keith’s pigtails, so to speak. Or mullet. Whatever. 

Keith’s hair is pushed to the side, pinned back so it doesn’t get into the bandages that are wrapped around his temples. It doesn’t curl at his neck, meaning Coran must’ve tied it up. 

Coran was the first person he ever admitted it to out loud. He had always envisioned it would be Veronica; she was the brave one who paved the way in making room for Lance to be comfortable with it, and he suspects that she probably always knew. He never got around to it, though; he was never okay enough with it, kept his secret locked in a tiny box, and threw it under his bed so no one’d ever find it until he was ready. He never thought he would be.

A month in space and a near-death experience were enough to make the change. He was scared to die with that knowledge being kept to himself. It helped that the object of his attraction for the past two years was suddenly with him every day, slowly but surely forging a weird friendship-esque thing with him. 

He tells Coran about his first time seeing Keith, and that he knew then and there that he was done for, but wanted so badly to be wrong. He tells Coran about the way that he’d stay awake, still stays awake thinking about him, worrying about him. He tells Coran about all the different ways he’s tried to ignore it and get over it, about the countless nights he spent praying for it to go away, even though he’d left religion by then. 

He tells him how he thought he’d gotten over it when Keith dropped out, only for it to come rushing back full force when he saw his head disappear into the random pod that had crashed onto Earth.

Coran listens. He, for once, puts his sponge down and sits down next to the pod that Lance is letting his rag pool water in front of. Lance remembers putting his head in his hands and sighing loudly as Coran’s hand came to rest on his back.

“On Altea, we did not differentiate based on orientation. It was simply taken as fact,” he explains. “But, we were raised differently, my boy. Sometimes, the people who love us teach us the things that hurt us the most. And sometimes you have to take time to unlearn those things. No one ever said it’d be easy.”

Lance looks at him. Coran can be eccentric and overwhelming, but he’s got wisdom that most will never dream of having in a lifetime. He can be silly, but he manages to be serious when Lance needs him to be. His friends never take him seriously, probably because he doesn’t try to be serious with them. They know him to be goofy and laughable. That’s all they need to know about him. He doesn’t wanna bother Hunk and Pidge with his random bouts of internalized self-hatred. They’ve got enough going on. 

“I’ve had many lovers in my lifetime, all long gone by now. Some men, some women,” he looks at Lance, a spark coming into his eyes. “Never had much time to settle down, though! Too busy making sure the planet was running.” He ribs Lance with his elbow, keeping his smile light and mischievous. “Never stopped me!” 

Lance smiles at his admission. 

“Thanks, Coran,” Lance says quietly.

“Any time, Lance. I’m always here.”

Lance brings his hand up to Keith’s pod, lays it softly on the glass, like it’d break if he pressed too hard. He imagines it passes through, his hand breaching the barrier, reaching and touching Keith’s skin, wanting to feel the life thrum through him. The glass does not waver. It never has before. Keith remains locked behind it. 

They should’ve seen it coming; they got sloppy. They should’ve forced Keith to stay on the ship the moment they noticed that the Galra were putting way more effort into intentionally hurting Keith, when his healing pod time at some point went from a few times a week to every single day. They should’ve been more careful when battles stopped turning into battles and instead looked more like a dogpile– every soldier wanting the chance to face off against Keith. It was a warning, and they were getting more frustrated every day that Keith kept living. 

Keith would have raised Hell, but he’d been safe. He wouldn’t have been on death’s doorstep, practically begging to be let in. 

The rest of the team filters in, and as predicted, Coran follows closely behind. Allura supports him at the shoulder, the lack of sleep catching up to him. He carries his food in with him, but carefully sets it aside as he pulls up Keith’s charts.

“The area of contact was the worst. He already had an open wound there, allowing the quintessence an easy route in,” he says, highlighting an area on Keith’s right flank. “It looked like a blaster barely skimmed him– just a mild burn. The quintessence is what caused the reaction.” 

“Reaction?” Shiro asks. 

Coran shifts a bit on his feet before moving over to the internal injury section. 

“Although it was a small amount of quintessence, it was concentrated. It was enough to trigger an impromptu transformation– one his body couldn’t sustain. Galra are highly reactive, as we know.” 

He zooms in on his legs.

“Luckily, he got out of there quickly enough to stall a complete transformation,” Coran continues, glancing over at Lance. Shiro clasps an appreciative hand on his shoulder. “His legs suffered the worst of it, three twin fractures and a small break on his left leg.” Coran shows them on the chart, the locations highlighted in an awful red. “It had grown a bit big for his body, but nothing a little sawing at couldn’t fix.”

“Sawed off?” Pidge asks. “Is he still going to be able to walk?”

Coran takes a moment, looks down at the chart in a contemplative silence.

“The new growth was soft. It can be mended. I’m hopeful that if he makes a full recovery, he could. His ability may be a bit impaired for a while, but we’ve undergone the trials and tribulations of physical therapy before. Nothing I’m not prepared to tackle.” Lance recognizes the tone he uses when he's trying to convince himself that it’ll all be okay so long as they stay optimistic. He appreciates Coran’s ability to soothe their minds, and they trust his judgement.

He pulls up pictures of the damage. 

The discoloration of Keith’s skin is what rips the immediate gasps out of them. The pictures show his skin decorated in blotches of purple, but not like bruises. Bright purple, like his mother. They appear at seemingly random spots, concentrated heavily at the contact location. His ears, pointed ever so slightly, lobes elongated.  

There are other pictures, damage that was external and considered less severe than the chemical, but it’s so much red that Lance feels a bit sick. They’ve dealt with horrible wounds before, and that's probably why Coran doesn’t speak too much about that. It’s still harrowing to see Keith look that messed up and it still not be the worst injury he endured. Lance remembers the blood pooling around their feet. 

“In the past, he’s only had minor skin-to-quintessence contact, so I was perhaps underprepared to work on such a condition. I managed to get most of it down, but his chest and sides are still purple.” Further charts show a tear in his shoulder, a fracture in his wrist, and other charts that show a variety of ailments. Practically his whole body was covered in injuries.

“He was feverous and hysterical. I had gotten it down as much as I could before I had to trust the pod to take over. I’m hoping he’s less… disorientated when he comes out.”

“Disoriented how?” Lance asks.  

“He was just confused and scared, I’m sure.” He doesn’t elaborate anymore, but he rubs at his wrist, light bruising creeping just over the cuff of his sleeve. He catches Lance’s eye and adjusts it out of view. “He meant no harm. He’d calmed down considerably after he realized that he was in no danger.” 

Lance frowns at this. Keith trusts Coran; he’s one of the few people in the universe that he allows himself to be vulnerable around. Not that he really has a choice– Coran handles all of their medical mumbo jumbo, and given the circumstances, he’s in the medbay a lot. You’re bound to get close to the guy who has to strip you to treat your wounds; that’s just the way things go. 

Why would Keith think he was any sort of danger? The answer is abundantly clear and yet he doesn’t want to think about it. He’s a staunch believer that if Keith ever went full-galra on them, he’d be the same old grump he was before. Coran clears his throat.

“After he gets out, he’ll remain in here for a bit of observation.” Coran states. “Although his bones will heal nicely in the pod, I’m afraid it won’t fix much of anything else.” 

Keith doesn’t fully come out of the pod for another week. The team sort of stalemates, no one wanting to be the one who makes progress during a time like this. Coran will let them in sometimes to visit, but he’s adamant that they can’t stay long. He says that he has tests to run constantly and that he doesn’t want the distraction. He tells them that sometimes he has to pull Keith out because something internally goes wrong, and that they can’t be in the room when he does so. 

“I’m simply running the same procedures that I'll have to run when he comes out. It’s nothing to be alarmed about, everything is under control.” 

When no one else is around, Coran lets Lance in to sit with Keith for a while. He’ll give him a more detailed rundown of everything that's happening, even if the information is sometimes grim. He’ll rub his shoulders comfortingly, staying silent just to let Lance process things: special treatment or whatever.

 Allura attempts to give them some sort of direction.

“We can avoid direct conflict for the time being, and instead focus our efforts on ally recruitment in the meantime,” she states simply, pulling up a map of the solar system they’re in. 

“We’re attending diplomatic meetings without Keith?” Hunk asks, ringing his hands. “I know he’s in good hands, but I don’t really want to leave him alone on the castle ship.” 

“Don’t you think people will get worried if they see we’re down a paladin? What if that news spreads?” Pidge tacks on. “The galra would know we’re vulnerable to attack.” 

Allura makes a frustrated noise.

“I understand your grievances, but-” Allura starts.

“It won’t hurt us to wait a few more days,” Lance interrupts. “I’m with them. Just until Keith is out of a pod, I say we stay put.” Allura must sense she’s outnumbered because she drops her hands and sighs.

“Alright,” she says softly. “We’ll wait a few more days.” 

It’s those “few more days” that allow them to be there when Keith exits his pod. Of course, by being there, Lance means that they got the alert and waited outside the locked door until Coran let them in. He can hear a flurry of motion inside; the sound of several machines booting up, Coran talking in a low but firm voice. He can hear a bed squeak and the quiet rasps of what Lance assumes to be Keith’s voice, although he can’t make anything out. 

They wait a total of thirty minutes before Coran finally opens the door. 

“He’ll be asleep for a few vargas,” he explains. “I’ve got him on a few different medicines.” 

Shiro approaches the bed first, grabbing his brother’s hand and squeezing it. 

“Oh, Keith,” he says, voice full of emotion—the rest of them approach, surrounding him. 

“He’ll be knocked out most of the time, I’m forcing a 10 varga sleep cycle on him. Five awake, five asleep, to prevent overexertion.” 

The pods aren’t a substitute for sleep. You wake up tired and groggy, needing to go to sleep pretty soon after. Keith hadn’t been sleeping well for a few days before the attack; he and Allura both stayed up late to try and figure out some sort of solution that would help them out. They were losing ground with the rate at which they were being ambushed, and every day they had to wait because Keith was just getting hurt too often. 

Outside of the pod is a different story. 

Keith’s face is smoothed over, more relaxed than Lance has seen him in a while. He’s completely still, chest moving up and down in slow, controlled movements. Coran’s got him changed into what Lance believes is the altean’s equivalent of a hospital gown, something he’d been inspired by on Earth. Coran said that it was ‘mighty convenient.’ He shoves them in one whenever he can, just because he can.

Lance strokes his hand down Keith’s face, his skin cold. He tries to not freak himself out over, tells himself it's normal to be cold after getting out of a pod. The medbay doesn’t offer much in terms of warmth. He can see him breathing. He’s not dead.

He brushes the hair out of his face, smooths it along his temples and tucks some behind his ears. Can’t find it in himself to care about his audience watching him do so. Pidge grabs at one of his hands, inspecting it. Hunk makes a move for the gown, parting it to get a better look at his chest.

True to Coran’s word, the discoloration didn’t subside completely, large blotches still apparent, disappearing further under the fabric. Lance drags a finger along one.

It’s smooth in a way that reminds Lance of what he thinks a seal might feel like when wet. Clearly, a thin layer of hair covers the surface, but it's sleek enough that if you didn’t touch it, it almost looks like skin. It’s the same texture that can be felt along Krolia’s arms.

Speaking of which…

“Has anyone told Krolia?” Lance asks, lifting his head. The team glances at each other, questioning gaze in their eyes.

“Damn, I hadn’t even thought about it,” Pidge says. 

“We can contact the Blade later and let them know what’s going on,” Shiro says softly. “It’s none of our fault; we were worried.” 

“Besides, it’s probably better that we tell her now that we know he’s more stable, versus when he first got injured. She would’ve gone crazy,” Hunk jests. “She’s scary when she goes all ‘mama-bear’ mode.”  Lance nods, although he feels incredibly guilty about it still. She should’ve been the first to know, he thinks. Hell, if she was there, it probably wouldn’t have happened. 

No point in debating the what-ifs, anymore.

“I’ll go tell her,” Lance says, kicking at the ground. His hand had at some point traveled down to Keith’s shoulder, and he doesn’t feel like moving it. “In a minute.” Shiro nods.

The team spends a few hours hanging out around Keith’s bed, each of them taking turns to sit closest to him, though Lance never relinquishes his spot. He’s content to stand there, hold Keith’s hand, pet his hair, do whatever so long as it keeps his hands on him. 

And maybe that is a little weird, judging by the small but obvious looks Hunk shoots his way when Lance stays a little too long at Keith’s face or when Coran sends him a knowing smile from across the room. 

Reaching hour four is when they start to filter out. Shiro’s the first up, joints cracking loudly enough to disturb the peace in the room. He sets the rest of them in motion, Pidge and Allura jumping up to return to work. Hunk stays behind a bit longer, talks to Lance about nothing in particular before alluding to the fact that he’s a bit tired of sitting on the floor and leaving as well.

Coran busies himself on the other side of the room, preparing a cocktail of different solutions that will no doubt be of use in the future, he’s always experimenting on how to better treat the illnesses they get. Lance can’t remember the last time he had to suffer through the full length of a cold. 

Lance stays, partially because he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and partially because he wants to be there when Keith wakes up. He laces his fingers between Keith’s. 

Coran chatters to himself, oscillating between triumphant noises and frustrated ones. Lance watches as he pours liquid from one vial to another, sometimes doing nothing, something changing colors, sometimes exploding. He gets so caught up that he misses the moment Keith opens his eyes. 

He only realizes what's going on when he feels a squeeze on his hand and jolts in his seat because he wasn’t expecting it.

“L’nce?” Keith asks sleepily. His eyes are half-open, squinting up at the bright light above him. Lance is quick to push it out of the way.

“Hey buddy,” Lance says, smiling down at him. “How do you feel?” Keith tries to respond but quickly descends into a rough patch of coughing. Lance sits him up quickly as Coran pushes a pouch of water into his hands. The older man adjusts a few of the IV lines in Keith’s arms, checks fluid levels, and moves over to the complicated machinery beeping away next to them. 

“What happened?” Keith asks, voice gravely from lack of use.

“You got attacked,” Lance says, judging Keith’s face to see how much he remembers. “Someone shot you full of quintessence and you reacted pretty badly.” Keith nods slowly and it’s clear to Lance that he’s got no recollection of their death bed confessions. That’s okay. So long as Keith’s okay he doesn’t mind. They can always have that conversation at another time. He’s okay with a less bloody do-over. 

Coran makes an interested hum before pressing down on a spot just above Keith’s stomach.

“How does that feel?” Keith makes a face.

“Weird.” Coran nods, rubbing at the spot before making a note. 

“How long was I out?”

“A bit over a week, I think,” Lance says. Keith jolts up, rustling everything in his path. Coran startles, attempting to push him back down.

“A week?!” Keith screeches. “How?!” 

“Uh, you got, pretty messed up…” Lance says. “Like, not gonna lie, I think I lost you a few times.” Not ‘think.’ Keith’s heart did stop beating several times. Keith stares at Lance’s face for an odd moment, tilting his head curiously. 

“Did you find me?” Keith asks. Lance sucks in a breath, decides what he wants to keep to himself then and there because he doesn’t think Keith can handle all that right now. 

“We were kinda fighting together, dude,” Lance replies. “Well, we got a bit separated, but I dragged you out.” Keith nods, directs his attention over to Coran, and leans back against his pillow. His hand stays laced with Lance’s. He squeezes it affectionately. 

“I’m about to call the others in,” Coran says. “Maybe you can make good on your promise to call Krolia.” He sends Lance a look through his brow.

“She doesn’t know?” Keith asks softly. He looks at Lance, almost hurt. 

“It slipped our minds, sorry. I’ll do it once the others get here.” Keith nods, letting his head loll to the side, facing away from Lance. 

He stays true to his word, forcing himself to get up as the others arrive, absolutely dreading the conversation ahead of him. Krolia’s probably gonna be pissed.

He throws one last look over his shoulder before the door closes shut, and accidentally makes eye contact with Keith. His face heats. 

“What?!” Krolia screams over the line. Lance shrinks in on himself as her face crowds the camera. Kolivan tries to pull her back, but she grabs his wrist with a deadly grip before he gets that far. 

“I swear we didn’t intentionally keep this from you,” Lance stresses, pulling at his hair. He’s so fucking tired, hasn’t been able to sleep properly since Keith got injured. Krolia must notice that, because she sighs and leans back.

“I’ll be there soon,” She says. 

“But—” Kolivan tries. The connection shuts off before Lance can see the end of that conversation. He’s weirdly grateful about it.

He goes to check on Keith once more, finding him to be awake but just barely. Shiro and Coran hover over his body. Lance takes the seat to Keith’s right and grabs his hand again, not caring about what the others think. Keith corrects the positioning, lacing their fingers together. 

He falls into a more comfortable sleep than he’s had in a week. He’s so tired.

He wakes up to Krolia’s frantic voice filling the room. By this point, Keith is wide awake, staring at his mom as she rants loudly while pacing back and forth. Lance blinks the sleep out of his eyes, reaching over to grab Keith’s water pouch because he’s parched. A few years ago he would’ve found the thought of drinking from the same straw as Keith. He does it now without thought. 

“Good morning,” Keith says.

“Mmmm,” Lance says. He has to regretfully remove his hand from Keith (shockingly still intertwined) to stretch. “How do you feel?”  He rubs at his neck, sore from the way he was asleep. 

“I’m okay,” Keith says. “I sort of feel like a lab rat.”  Lance looks around the room and sees that every one is still here. 

“Sorry,” Lance says sheepishly. “This is probably a little overwhelming. We can probably give you some space.” He’s spent the most time with Keith so it’s only fair that he be the first to leave. 

“It’s okay,” Keith says, re-grabbing Lance’s hand when he goes to move. “I don’t mind the company.” He looks Lance directly in the eye as he says it, a small smile on his face. Lance can’t stop the color from rising to his face.

“You’re gonna be sick of me after this is all over,” Lance says. Keith scoffs.

“I don’t think I could ever be sick of you.” Lance picks up one of the pillows on the bed and shoves it (gently) into Keith’s face to shut him up. One of the medicines he’s on right now is clearly making him all wonky in the head. 

Everyone is pushed out of the room so Krolia can talk to Keith one and one for a little while. Coran is escorted to his quarters by Allura as she does not trust him to find his way there on his own. Lance doesn’t either, knowing him he’d probably wait outside in the hallway until Krolia finishes chewing Keith out for almost dying. 

He instructs them to come and get him if anything is to happen while he’s out.

“I mean it,” Coran says. “If there’s any fluctuations in his vitals I want to know.”  He tells them exactly where they are on Keith’s sleep cycle: an hour and a half (roughly) until he’s back asleep. Lance takes this opportunity to go back to his room and get some proper sleep that won’t give him a crick in the neck. He can’t imagine he’s got a chance of getting back in the medbay any time soon, not while Krolia’s on her war path. 

He wakes up at briefly dinner and doesn’t think twice about bringing his food to the medbay, eating it next to Keith as he sleeps. Then, he returns back to his room, setting an alarm for Keith’s next wake cycle. 

Keith wakes up again right before the team's official ‘daytime,’ which is just about their equivalent for 6 AM. Lance is up though, but he waits a few minutes before he makes his return to the medbay, not wanting to bombard Keith right when he wakes up. 

Right before the 30 doboshes of private time he has allocated for Keith is up, he brews a pot of coffee (their supply is dwindling; they’ll have to get more soon) and pours two cups for each of them. Keith prefers his sweetened but he’s awful particular about it so Lance doesn’t chance it. He drinks it black just as often. 

He knocks twice before entering. Keith visibly lights up seeing him.

“Morning, Mullet,” Lance says, handing him the coffee. “I don’t know if you’re allowed to have that.”

“What Coran doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Keith says, blowing at the liquid. “Good morning.” 

“How are you feeling today?” Keith shrugs. 

“I’m bored and I can’t walk,” Keith says. “I feel fine.” 

“Where’s Krolia?” Lance asks. He saw her getting food last night but didn’t stick around long enough to see what she did afterwards. 

“I think she said she was gonna stay in one of the guest rooms,” Keith says. “She was really upset.” 

“She was just scared,” Lance says. “We all were.”

“Yeah,” then, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve changed,” Lance says. Keith sighs slightly and looks down at himself. Covered in bandages, legs unmoving and splinted, noticeably thinner. Even if he’s doing better, death isn’t all that far away just yet. Keith is surviving off machinery right now and that’s never a good feeling. 

He leans his head onto Lance’s shoulder, swirling his coffee around in his hands. Lance places his head on top of his. They do not talk until they’ve both finished drinking their coffee. 

“Thanks for coming,” Keith says. “You don’t have to.”

“Do you not want me to?” Lance says. Keith looks at him fondly. 

“Are you kidding me?” He says. “Of course I do.” Lance’s heart stutters a few times in his chest at the look and the softness of his voice. It’s not the first time Keith has directed such affections towards him, even if it is few and far between each instance, but it’s different now that he knows the intentions behind it. He wants to hold onto that soft smile forever; wants to make himself at home in the curve of Keith’s mouth. Wants Keith to direct this kind of attention at him and him alone.

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on not coming,” Lance says matter-of-factly. 

“Allura wants you guys to make contact with the rebellion later to let them know that we’re still on for establishing the trading hub the Dimiliali moons,” Keith says. “Can you bring me a book or something before you guys go off?” 

“I don’t have any books,” Lance says. Keith rolls his eyes.

“That’s a problem in and of itself,” he says. “But I have some in my room. Grab one for yourself while you're there.”

Lance blows a raspberry at him. “I watch movies,” he says. “But fine— I’ll indulge your request.”

“How lucky am I to have you?” Keith jests, reaching for his datapad to send Lance a few titles. One of them has (you read this one) written next to it. 

“I need your room code,” Lance says. “Unless your door’s unlocked, which would be totally irresponsible.”

 “I never lock my door,” Keith says. “I’ll send you the code just in case I did.” 

“I’ll be right back,” Lance says. 

It’s the first time he’s ever been able to enter Keith’s room on his own. He very rarely comes in here, usually if Keith and Lance are going to hang out, they go into Lance’s. His room is more homey. Keith doesn’t own a single fucking lamp and Lance is not sitting under the bright castle lights all day. He loves Keith and all (and wow, that feels weird to admit), but he’s not going to be walking around with a perpetual headache because Keith refuses to improve his living quarters. 

… And, maybe eventually, if things work out, Lance can just decorate their eventually shared space. 

Gross. Ew ew ew. Just get the damn books. 

Keith’s room is as bland as always. No pictures on the wall, no items on the floor, no anything. Keith’s living space has always come off as more temporary than anything— never puts his roots down because he never knows when he’s gonna leave. 

He’s got a bookshelf, though. Half dedicated to stuff he brought from earth and half stuff he’s accumulated in space. He knows that Keith and Allura like to bounce books around (her own shelf looking quite like Keith’s, split 50/50 earth and others).

Keith has settled on a few earth titles this time around. Some Steinbeck and McCarthy for himself while he picks out a Sci-fi novel for Lance. He’s assuming that he’s about to be insulted by the difficulty difference, but it’s not like he’s actually going to read the book.

…

Okay. but Keith’s definitely read it and what if he asks Lance questions about it? Lance would naturally need a response. Keith also never denies Lance when he asks to watch a movie together (just the two of them, alone, in Lance’s room, might he add), so it’s only fair to humor Keith. He’ll read half of it and then put it down.

…

But, if Keith’s recommending it he probably likes it and it would be rude for Lance to not give it his all. He shouldn’t knock it before he’s tried it. He’s never been good at sitting down and actually reading books, much to the dismay of his American Literature professors. He always fudged his book reports. He’s never personally enjoyed reading what scholars call ‘The Classics,’ but Keith does so it might be of interest to him to pick up a few novels if Keith says they’re good.

While he’s already in Keith’s room he decides to go ahead and browse the rest of his shelf. He never snoops during his short visits here with Keith. He didn’t want to give the indication that he was in any way interested in him because he was terrified of Keith finding out how he felt. Silly in hindsight, but he was kind of mortified of the thought until recently.

He’s got a wide selection to choose from: some more popular novels that he’s seen around on the internet and some obscure titles that he’s never heard of. 

The alien books actually ring more bells than the human ones, because if Keith isn’t available Lance is the next victim of Allura’s many literary tangents. Those books are primarily Allura classics: i.e. romance. He can’t actually picture Keith reading romance novels but the thought that he actually might is unfortunately cute to Lance. 

Other than the bookshelf, Keith’s room offers little insight into what he likes to do. He knows Keith’s got a sketch book around here that he draws in and a notebook he writes in but they’re not in plain sight and Lance thinks it’d be a little weird to start digging in Keith’s drawers, so he’ll hold off on that for now. He’ll get Keith to show him his actual art eventually. 

He grabs his little stack of books and returns back to the medbay where Coran is already meddling about. Keith doesn’t actually start any of his books until Lance is forced to leave.

Part of the reason Lance was so vehemently opposed to going to any meetings while Keith was out was because it felt wrong to just leave him up there unguarded. 

The other part is that these meetings are so fucking boring without Keith whispering in his ear about how bored he is or how much he hates this and whatever else he so pleases. 

He whispers to Hunk and gets elbowed for it. Pidge is too low down in her seat for Lance to subtly whisper to her and Allura is sitting across the table. He considers starting a game of footsie with Allura but that’s also a thing he does with Keith and she’d kick his ass anyways. So.

He joins Pidge in sinking down in his seat until he’s eventually pulled back into conversation by the king’s daughter. Princess whateverthefuck. 

“Red Paladin, do you think this decision is wise?” She asks, fluttering her lashes in a way that many of their prospective allies do when speaking to them. They’re kind of a hot commodity, no one on the team is a stranger to getting hit on. Lance would’ve basked in the attention a year ago, now he just finds it annoying. Even more so now that Keith isn’t here to make a comment about it. Ugh. It’s been an hour too long without him. 

He looks to Allura for guidance, and she does a subtle nod of her head. He has no clue what’s going on. 

“Yes,” he says. “Absolutely.” 

The princess turns to look at her father, batting her lashes.

“If the good Paladins of Voltron are in favor of this, we certainly should have no doubts,” she says. Her eyes go back to Lance, lingering on him for the reminder of the meeting. She tries to goad him into a private tour of the facility, but he politely declines and instead subjects Allura to the tour while he accompanies Hunk and Pidge to the planning room where the king will have them meeting with the guys who have all the information that they’ll need to establish trade routes. 

Primarily, it’s Lance’s job to analyze the associated risks with the trading hub: i.e. what’s the threat of galra attacking, how many rebel outposts they’re gonna need to establish, etc.

Pidge and Hunk have to do all the heavy stuff like how to physically make it operate. Lance manages to convince the scholars in the room to let them take their workload back to the castle, but not before they absolutely insist on giving them the run down on every single detail of their solar system. It drags on for forever, especially since Pidge and Hunk keep interrupting them to ask questions. Riveting stuff, apparently. 

He looks at the timer he has set that tracks Keith’s wake cycle and watches the time slip away. He checks his vitals like he’s been doing for a week. His temperature is a little low, but he’s certain Coran’s on it. He’ll still bring a few more blankets for him, just in case. By the time they’re finally permitted to go home and get work done, Keith’s half a varga into his medically induced sleep. 

Lance isn’t able to take his work to the medbay anyways. Pidge and Hunk are adamantly roping him into their conversations, asking for input or his opinion on certain safety factors. They really love to ignore safety features. Hunk used to be better about it, engineering ethics and all that jazz, but Pidge has infected him with her immoral ways. 

He does what he needs to do and sulks in his seat. Allura wanders back in a little later, red faced saying the Princess attempted to turn her affections onto her. There’s a kiss mark on her cheek that she tries to rub off, claiming that the girl absolutely insisted on kissing her goodbye. Happens to the best of them, he supposes. 

He stands up and stretches, his joints popping in several places and remembers that he’s got that book that he needs to read. He’s not going to do that in front of Pidge and Hunk because they’ll make fun of him for it, so since he’s done with his work he decides he’s going to go pay his favorite inpatient a visit. 

“Off to see your boyfriend?” Pidge calls after him. He flips her off. 

Not his boyfriend yet.

He stops by his room briefly to grab a blanket for Keith, getting the one that Keith always seems to gravitate towards when he’s in Lance’s room. He grabs lunch for himself too, even if Coran hates it when they eat in the medbay. He thinks Coran will make an exception for him, circumstances and all. 

Coran lets him eat his food before making him help clean since he’s in here anyways. The older man busies himself with changing IVs and doing various tests on Keith to make sure he’s recovering alright. He makes Lance leave the room at one point so he can check out the injuries that are hidden behind Keith’s clothes. 

Once he’s allowed back in, Coran brings him to the back of the lab where he's got a bunch of different beakers set up and connected to a complicated system of pipes and storage bottles. 

“I do not wish for this to ever happen again,” Coran says. “I doubt his body would be able to sustain another injury such as this. We got lucky.” 

“Yeah,” Lance says, casting a glance at Keith's body, willing himself not to get choked up. “We did.” He fails and he can’t stop himself from tearing up. 

“The blade was serrated with poison, and while I may not be able to counteract the quintessence, I would like to find an antidote for that.” Coran places a comforting hand on Lance’s back while he silently breaks down. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Keith died.

God. He’d have probably followed right after him.

“Are you having any luck?” Lance asks. Coran smiles.

“I think so,” Coran says. He starts showing Lance his dozens of trial runs involving some weird mixture of Keith’s blood and skin cells. Alteans have different methods of synthesizing anti-venom that involve a lot less animals and a lot more alchemy. Completely irreplaceable for earthling use. “I was considering asking the blade to help me test it, but I don’t know that I have enough of the poison to do anything meaningful.”

“Can I have some of the antidote?” Lance asks. “Just in case.” 

“Once I get it finished up you’ll be the first to take a sample,” Coran says. “Not until I’m sure it’ll work.”

Lance places himself back by Keith, resting his head on Keith’s chest, staring at his face, listening to his heart beat. He’s still here. He’s still got time.

Lance starts reading the book.

“Lance?” Keith asks, waking from his slumber right as Lance is about to slip off to dream land while laid out on his chest. He’s got his thumb between page 80 and 81 of the book. He didn’t much care for the beginning but he’s starting to like the main character, so he’s willing to keep going, 

Lance shoots up, wide eyed and a little embarrassed. He had really meant to pay more attention to the time. 

“Hey buddy,” he says, pulling the book into his lap and leaning back. “How’s it… hanging?”

Keith shrugs, stretching his arms high above his head, his shirt riding up. Lance averts his gaze because he will stare and it will be awkward for everyone. 

“I’m good. Coran says I can start trying to walk again tomorrow,” Keith says. “How was the meeting?” 

“Same old same old,” Lance says, starting to fill in the details. He watches Keith's reaction when he tells him about the princess’s interest in him and is pleased to see his mouth tick down a bit.

“Did you go with her?” Keith asks like that’s even remotely a possibility. 

“Of course not,” Lance says. 

“Good,” Keith says, then” “I-I mean, not ‘good,’ it’s just… good to stay on task…” 

“Mhm,” Lance says, smiling. “When’s the last time you brushed your hair?” 

“Dunno. Allura brushed it the other day. I tried to but my arms are kinda weak.” He motions to the brush sitting discarded haphazardly on the table next to him. 

“Do you want me to brush it?” Keith’s eyes dart the side. 

“You can if you want…” He says. “I haven’t actually been to wash my hair in a while so it’s probably gross.”

“I’m sure your mullet is no grosser than usual,” Lance says. “I have something that can help, give me a second.”

He quickly runs to his bathroom and grabs all his self care essentials that Keith never lets him use on him: face mask, dry shampoo, a good hair brush, a hair tie, and whatever else he can fit into his arms. He lugs it all back to the medbay and looks expectantly at Keith.

“No,” Keith says.

“Yes,” Lance says, setting up shop. He opted for a sheet mask because it’s slightly less work than a clay mask. Less moving to a sink and all that. “I’ll put this on you while I do your hair.”

Keith leans back and stares at the ceiling. Lance takes this opportunity to climb beside him and put the mask on. After he’s satisfied with his work, he moves behind Keith, pushing a few drip stands out of his way. 

He uses his fingers to work out the bigger knots in Keith’s hair, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“I’m not tenderheaded, if you’re worried about that,” Keith says. Lance still isn’t going to push it. 

After he’s satisfied with his work, he starts to brush Keith’s hair, starting at the bottom and working his way up, using his other hand to sooth strands of Keith’s hair as he goes. He knows Keith likes having his hair played with from a few rare nights where Lance manages to subtly get his hands tangled in the dark strands. Completely innocent. Just when Keith rests his head on Lance during movie night it’s too tempting to not do so. 

His hair is unfairly soft for someone who doesn’t take care of himself at all. Krolia is the same, and Lance is sure it's genetic. Not so much right now, though. Even Keith’s hair’s uncanny ability to not get greasy, even it succumbs to a week and a half of no shower oil. Happens to the best of them. 

Lance lifts his hair up off of his neck and spots one of the little purple patches just at Keith’s collar. Without really thinking, Lance runs his fingers over it, feeling the fur.

“It’s weird, right?” Keith says. “I know I have fangs and sometimes my eyes are a little yellow, but the fur is really throwing me.” 

“Hmm,” Lance says, running his fingers in the wrong direction and watching it stand up. It’s short, much like Krolia’s is. “It’s different.” And it reminds Lance of how close he was to losing him. His fingers stall.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Keith looks at Lance. “Are you okay?”

“When you get better,” Lance says. “I think it might be a good idea to take a backseat on infiltration missions.” Keith is suddenly much more alert, the relaxation dissipating immediately. 

“After all that just happened, you want me to risk that happening to you guys?” Keith says, trying hard to angle his body at Lance but he just can’t because it still won’t cooperate with him. “Are you out of your mind.”

“Keith, come on man,” Lance says. “Look at you, dude.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” Keith says, eyes darkening. “I know I’m gross right now. It’s not like I can help it! Believe it or not, I actually don’t make it a habit to get myself mortally wounded.” 

“That’s— ugh! You know that’s not what I’m saying!” Lance takes a deep breath in. “None of us could have predicted this— that’s the issue!”

“We know to be more careful going forward. Issue resolved.”

“This isn’t a we issue, Keith. They want you dead.” Lance walks back in front of him, sitting down on the bed and taking Keith’s face into his hands, forcing him to make eye contact. “This cannot happen again.” He annoyingly starts tearing up again. “God— fuck. Forget about it.” 

Keith stares at Lance in stunned silence, and then, gingerly lifts up a hand to brush away the tear that rolls down Lance’s cheek. Lance’s mouth wobbles and he gives in. He surges forward and hugs Keith, trying so hard to be gentle. When Keith wraps his arms around him tightly, Lance tightens his own to match the strength. It feels good to feel Keith’s pulse down the length of his body; feels good to feel the heat the comes with it. Keith’s fingers curl into Lance’s shirt and his head nuzzles it’s way into the nape of his neck. Alive and better. That’s all that matters right now.

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers, so quiet that Lance almost misses it.

“Stop apologizing. It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, getting hurt wasn’t, but not listening to you is,” Keith says, drawing back. “You’re right. I’m being irresponsible.”

“Yeah, a little,” Lance says.

“I hate sitting back,” Keith says. “But I can try. At least until we figure out some sort of solution.”

“Coran is working on something for the poison," Lance says. “At the very least, wait until he has that working.”

“I can do that,” Keith says. 

“Promise?” Lance says, holding his pinkie out. Keith smiles and hooks their fingers together. 

“Yeah, I promise.” Lance kisses his thumb to seal the deal. Then, he goes back to brushing Keith’s hair, finally getting the chance to braid it under the guise that it will make it easier to deal with in the future.

The next time he visits Keith, Pidge is in there talking to him. He had to help Allura out of the predicament he had accidently put her in, i.e. putting the attention of Princess Whateverthefuck onto her. They pestered the scholars until she finally conceded deeper into the castle. Then they made their break.

Establishing the trading hub has been a drag. There’s a bunch of moons that are constantly moving around and every single one of them has an irregular orbit. Some of them are randomly more massive and pull trader cars out of their routes into their own gravitational orbits. It sucks.

Pidge had excused herself hours ago to go work on the math. Evidently, she got tired of doing that and instead decided to pester Keith. Not that Lance has any problem sharing Keith right now. For the most part. Keith needs social interaction more than anything else right now. It’s cool. He’s cool.

Keith is red. Pidge has an absolutely bewildered look on her face, like she just told him something he’s not supposed to know. 

Uh oh.

“Hey guys…” Lance says, both of their heads snapping to look at him. Yep. Definitely talking about him.

“What’s…up?” Keith says, flushing all the way down his neck and under the collar. Uh oh.

“Nothing,” Lance says. “How did your first round of PT go, buddy?” Pidge chokes on her spit and excuses herself. 

“Good,” Keith says. “I couldn’t do much. Coran shoved me in a pod for a few just to see if it’d improve anything. It helped.” Lance is a little offended that no one thought to tell him about that. 

On the table, Keith has already started the second book that Lance has brought him, which means soon he’ll probably have to venture back into Keith’s room to grab more. He looks at his sad little dejected book beside Keith’s finished one. He’s half way done now, and although he’s actually really enjoying it, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a slow reader. 

“You’ll get there,” Lance says. 

“We’re going to try again tomorrow,” Keith says. “I really want out of this room.” 

“Missing my superior methods of lighting yet?” Lance says with a smile.

“God, yes,” Keith says. Lance notices that his blanket is wrapped around Keith’s shoulders. “This sucks.” Lance pats his leg sympathetically. He sees that Keith’s hair is a little fluffier and out of its braid now and that he visually looks a lot better than he did yesterday. Less sickly. Must’ve finally gotten into the shower.

“I’m going to rebraid it,” Lance says, taking his place behind Keith.

“Okay,” Keith says. Lance works his way through it, Keith humming contently as he does. He deliberately takes longer than necessary to brush all the pieces to where he needs them. He knows how good that can feel. He wants Keith to feel pampered. He does the braid and redoes it a few times just for the hell of it. Keith never questions him. 

After his finishes, he moves his hands down the sides of his neck, to his shoulders and works out the knots that have developed there. Keith’s always so tense and Lance always wants to help him but never knows when too much is too much. Was too scared to give him any indication that there was more there. Almost missed his chance to show him how much he cares.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Keith asks. Lance doesn’t follow

“Tell you what?” Lance says, thumb going under his shoulder blade to try and rub out a particularly bad knot. 

“Pidge told me,” Keith says. “She was asking if we had talked about ‘it.’ I told her I didn’t know what ‘it’ was.”

Oh. Shit. 

Lance pauses his ministrations, whole body freezing over and then lighting on fire. 

“Oh,” Lance manages to squeak out. “Right.” 

Keith leans forward out of Lance’s grip and Lance sees that he kind of looks hurt. 

“Were you embarrassed?” It’s not accusatory or anything, more timid than anything. “I understand you were just trying to keep me alive. Thank you— by the way.” 

What on Earth is he talking about? Lance is positive they’re talking about the same thing, but something is getting misunderstood. 

“It was a shitty way of me going about it,” Lance admits. “If that’s what you mean.” Keith nods, and Lance can tell that was the wrong thing to say as Keith turns around and looks forward towards the door, the room feeling tangibly more heavy than before. 

“That’s okay. I understand,” Keith says.

Oh. Holy shit.

“I was kinda happy that you forgot,” Lance says. Keith flinches. Bad wording, bad wording! “I wanted to do things properly.”

Keith turns around to look at him– or tries to, anyway. He can only really twist his torso right now.

“I’m confused,” Keith says. “What do you mean?”

No time like the present. He walks his way to the front of Keith’s bed and stares at the blanket while he gets his thoughts in order. It’s not that big of a deal— just telling the guy he’s had the hots for forever how he feels. No stress or anything. Sits right on the bed. Real close and personal. 

Lance takes a deep breath. Keith stares at him, eyes wide.

“You see…” Lance starts. “I mean— Dude.” Keith continues to stare at him. “This is so much harder with you actually conscious, wow.” 

“Sorry,” Keith says. “I can’t do much about that.” Lance smiles. 

“I meant it,” Lance blurts. “I don’t know if I ever planned on telling you but I panicked.”

“Huh?” Keith says dumbly. Lance barrels on, unable to stop now that he’s started.

“I have had these feelings for so long and I was terrified that I was losing you right there so I just said it,” Lance says, impressively holding his composure. “I couldn’t think of anything else to say so I just said it. Keith—God I was so scared.” Lance’s fingers subconsciously clench in and out of the sheets.

“Oh,” Keith says. Lance doesn’t look up at him until Keith grabs at his hand. “Why didn’t you just say something.”

“You were dying Keith,” Lance says. “I didn’t care if you meant it, dude. I was just happy that you were alive. I didn’t want to stress you out with all of this.” 

Keith stares at Lance’s face for a second, watches the way that Lance’s chest rapidly moves up and down.

“You never planned to tell me?” Keith asks. 

“No. Maybe— I don’t know,” Lance says. “I wanted to— really badly, but I didn’t know if you felt the same. I didn’t want to mess things up just because I couldn’t keep my emotions in check.”

Keith deadpans.

“You didn’t know… that I felt the same way?” Keith asks in a tone that suggests that Lance is idiotic for this conclusion. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious.” 

“I’m impressed,” Keith says. “I thought you were ignoring it to be nice.” Lance’s eyes shoot open and Keith shrugs his shoulders, smiling playfully. 

“Did you mean it?” Lance says. “Like, mean it. Not just… y’know.” Keith narrows his eyes, tracking Lance’s train of thought before his face turns a shade darker. 

“Yeah,” Keith says, looking down at their hands. “I meant it.” Lance leans forward just a bit.

“I love you,” Lance says. “A lot, actually.” Keith looks up.

“Yeah?” Keith says, breaking eye contact to look elsewhere.

“If you say it back, I’ll kiss you,” Lance teases. Keith inhales sharply before grabbing a fistfull of Lance’s shirt and pulling him in, their lips slotting together easily, like they were always meant to be this way. One of the best decisions Keith’s ever made in his life.

“I love you, too,” Keith says.

“Cool,” Lance says, reconnecting their lips. “Once you’re allowed out of this room I’ll be sure to properly woo you.”

Keith laughs at that, hearty and loud.

“Can’t wait,” he says. Keith’s heart rate is apparently fast enough that Coran got an alert— causing both of them to divulge in a fit of laughter. Coran kicks Lance out.

Totally worth it.