Chapter Text
Lance wants to watch a movie.
He doesn’t want to watch a movie alone, but it looks like he’s out of options.
Hunk and Pidge are working on some odd project that involves more math than Lance wants to even consider, and Shiro, Coran, and Allura are away on a diplomatic meeting.
Keith is his last resort.
With a quiet sigh and a casual wave to Team Punk, Lance sets off on the quickest route to the training deck.
He may not be in the mood for calculus or physics, but he knows the basics of probability:
Where is Keith?
Training.
Except the training deck is empty.
Lance surveys the vacant expanse and blinks like his eyes are playing tricks on him.
No Keith.
Resigned to solitude, Lance shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and skulks down the hallway toward the shared entertainment space.
When he reaches the room, he strides with purpose straight to the Altean equivalent of a television and presses the button to turn it on.
The remote sits next to it, so he scoops it up and heads for the couch.
Lance almost doesn’t see Keith.
When he does notice him, his eyes widen and his mouth drops open.
Because Keith Kogane is asleep.
Slouching bonelessly onto the armrest of the couch, Keith looks a bit like he melted into this position.
The collar of his ridiculous cropped red jacket is trapped under his cheek, so the fabric pulls away from his torso and catches on his t-shirt to reveal a strip of pale skin.
Both of his legs curl loosely to the side.
One arm is smashed between Keith and the couch, and the other is tucked into his jacket.
Lance tilts his head to the side.
He doubts Keith intended to nap here.
Because Keith doesn’t look comfortable at all. In fact, he shivers intermittently as if he’s cold.
But what really leads Lance to his conclusion is the fact he’s never seen Keith sleep.
Keith stays up late, gets up early, and sleeps exclusively in his bedroom.
Lance hasn’t ever seen him nod off in any kind of public space, and Keith flat-out refuses to participate in paladin sleepovers.
It used to piss Lance off. No matter what he did, he couldn’t convince the red paladin to join them all for living room slumber parties. He’d asked Keith if he felt too cool for them, or if he just thought they weren’t worth his time. It had actually gotten pretty ugly once. Shiro intervened after that particular argument; he pulled Lance aside and told him not to press Keith anymore on the issue. Lance only agreed because he trusted Shiro, especially where Keith was concerned.
Now Lance can’t help but stare.
Before he realizes what he’s doing, Lance crosses the room to find the row of chests that contain blankets, pillows, and some kind of strange shoes that Allura and Coran love... but the rest of them avoid due to an incident wherein Pidge nearly lost a toe.
Lance plucks up the fuzziest throw he can find, and then he walks back to the couch and gently tosses it over Keith, who sleeps on undisturbed.
Sleeping and covered by a fluffy yellow blanket, Keith transforms before Lance’s eyes.
Keith, restless, aggressive, intense, softens under his gaze.
There’s something almost vulnerable about him that makes Lance’s insides twist, and a protective feeling blossoms in his chest.
He swallows.
And then he pointedly turns his eyes away and randomly selects a movie.
He puts the volume on low and dims the lights before settling on the floor with his back pressed against the couch in front of Keith’s bent knees.
It’s sort of like he’s not watching a movie alone, he decides. Hunk usually falls asleep before they're over anyway.
Lance stretches his legs out in front of him and grabs a free cushion from one of the unoccupied chairs starts watching the 10,000 year-old Altean film. It looks like some kind of horror flick that bears an odd, disconcerting resemblance to The Blob.
He hugs the pillow to his chest and drops his chin on top of it. Nostalgia pulls his lips into a delighted grin.
It's great, and everything is sort of strange and peaceful for about ten minutes.
And then something starts to shift.
Lance is caught up in the cheesy dialogue when a soft whine interrupts his trance.
Lance furrows his brow, cranes his neck to check on the red paladin, and notes that he’s still unconscious.
His eyes search the room, but he and Keith are still the only occupants.
So where did the sound come from?
Chewing absently on his bottom lip, Lance figures he probably just imagined it.
Or the mice also might've been running through the vents.
Because there was no way that Keith actually whimpered.
He tries to put it out of his mind.
Still... Lance thinks, something feels off.
And he trusts his senses.
To be fair, they’d saved his life more than once.
He scrutinizes the smaller teen.
In spite of the thick, toasty blanket, Keith somehow shivers harder. Lance frowns and then removes his jacket and lays it over Keith, whose tremors relent.
Satisfied, Lance turns back to the movie just in time to see the protagonist duck to hide in the woods. The tranquility of the forest is ruined by the sound of the leaves that crunch under her feet as she sprints for better cover. She flattens her back against a tree and tries to catch her breath, and then she peeks around the trunk to look for the creature.
Clearly, this girl hadn't taken Horror Movies 101.
The monster lunges, the girl screams, and Lance yelps.
But it's not the movie that alarms him.
It’s the cry that comes from behind him.
Heart thundering like a herd of wild horses, Lance whirls around to rip Keith a new one.
“What's your problem?" he gripes. His next words catch somewhere in his throat.
Because Keith isn’t even awake.
And he looks miserable.
Keith is always pale, but right now he’s ashen and colorless. His lips press into a thin, white line, and his brow is drawn. His entire body is as taut as a tightrope wire, and the tendons in his neck strain against his skin. A choked off sound tears itself from his throat.
And even though sweat beads at his temple, he’s still shivering and twitching.
A layer of frost spreads from his gut to his extremities.
Because Keith isn’t cold.
He’s scared.
An actor on screen howls in fear, but it’s nothing to the little noises Keith keeps making in his sleep.
Lance blanches and his mouth goes slack because he’s never seen Keith look this way.
What could someone like Keith, who could drive a hoverbike off a cliff with a smug, excited expression, have nightmares about?
Shoving his curiosity and surprise to the side, Lance reaches out a concerned, tentative hand.
“Keith?” he hopes his tone is gentle. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just a dream.”
When the pads of his fingers with the other teen’s shoulder, Keith gasps and jerks like he’s been struck by lightning.
Haphazardly, he launches himself off the couch and drops into a defensive stance.
His violet eyes are too bright and fierce and unseeing.
“Hey,” Lance placates. He gets to his feet, but he doesn't come any closer. Keith’s chest heaves with the force of his breath. “It’s just me. It’s Lance. You fell asleep. You’re fine.”
Keith blinks. His vision clears.
An intense flush creeps up his neck.
In combination with his current pallor, it makes him look sick.
Then a vein in his jaw spasms. He grits his teeth. His chin comes up defiantly. His eyes narrow.
He steps backward.
Keith's entire demeanor changes before Lance's eyes.
“You okay?” Lance takes a hesitant step forward. Keith mirrors the motion while he studies Lance’s expression. “You wanna talk about it?”
This is apparently the wrong thing to say.
Keith clenches his fists with enough force to puncture the delicate skin with his nails.
Lance watches the blood well in his palms, “...Um...Keith?”
Keith’s glare is cold and flinty, “Fuck off, Lance.”
Lance sputters in surprise and indignation.
Sure, they fight and bicker and argue and compete, but it's almost playful as of late.
And even at their worst, they'd never...
Keith just crossed a line.
The red paladin starts to leave, but Lance automatically catches him by the wrist and seethes, "What is your problem?"
It's the touch that sets Keith off.
The smaller of the pair flinches so violently that Lance drops his arm in shock. In a hair’s breadth of a second, Lance sees raw panic in Keith’s eyes before it’s replaced by something he can’t identify.
And then Keith closes off entirely.
“Get the fuck away from me,” Keith spits. He turns on his heel and stalks through the threshold.
Just before the doors shudder to a close, Lance watches as Keith's sedate pace becomes an outright sprint.
Lance exhales.
He doesn’t even know how to begin to process the last two minutes.
There was so much, and then there was nothing.
How could one person jump from fear to embarrassment to anger to terror to nothing in such a short span of time?
Lance bites his lip. All the warmth has been sucked from his body. He feels like he's been set adrift, like he's floating untethered in a stormy sea.
Shaking out his hand, he runs his tongue over his teeth and whispers, "What the fuck?"
He stands in the same position just a little too long before he makes himself return to the movie. He rolls his shoulders, determined to forget about... whatever just happened.
He should be livid.
He should be irate, waspish, and wrathful.
But that’s not how he feels at all.
He doesn’t want to think about it.
Ignoring the unoccupied couch with the innocuous, sunny blanket, Lance goes back to the carpeted floor.
When the movie ends and the screen goes dark, Lance doesn’t get up.