Keith Whump collections

by suhcelia

Summary:

My collection of my way too many Keith whump stories. Most are multi-part, some are one shots. Enjoy the whump~
[Full Index in Chapter 1]
Recent Chapters:
#12 : Immediate aftermath of The Blade of Marmora Trials, and Keef be in pain. Thankfully someone happens to be walking by... (this is my favorite yet)
#13 : After Keith gets hurt, Pidge has to woman-up (sorry ik its cheesy just go with it)
#14 : A dramatic drop in barometric pressure is hell for people with scar tissue...
#15 : Keith is a self-proclaimed expert in migraines, but a particularly bad one has him in need of some rescuing
#16 : Crash landings are never comfy.
#17: Keef take a tumble.
(Art by me in chapter 6 & 8!!!)

Chapter 1: He's Ours (1/2)

Summary:

A coalition meeting on an alien planet goes side ways because snake people can sense when one of the new people have galran blood - Keith feels the wrath of a magical snake queen.

Notes:

tw: suffocation/anxiety

Index:
#1-2: A coalition meeting on an alien planet goes side ways because snake people can sense when one of the new people have galran blood - Keith feels the wrath of a magical snake queen.
#3 - Keith and Lance have the shared trauma of car accidents back on Earth, and it comes back to haunt them in the midst of battle
#4-5: Lance makes a grave mistake during battle and Keith pays the price... and it hurts.... like a lot
#6-7: Keith tries to rouse Shiro from a feverish nightmare and his tired brain isn't fast enough. Keith tries to mend himself, but regrettably needs some help after all.
#8-10 : When Lance and Keith wake up tied back to back to each other on a Galran ship, they have no idea how they got there, but the also don't really want to know why they ARE there.
#11 : The coalition needs the planet's resources desperately, but everything in Keith's body is telling him to run.
#12 : Immediate aftermath of The Blade of Marmora Trials, and Keef be in pain. Thankfully someone happens to be walking by...
#13 : After Keith gets hurt, Pidge has to woman-up (sorry ik its cheesy just go with it)
#14 : A dramatic drop in barometric pressure is hell for people with scar tissue...
#15 : Keith is a self-proclaimed expert in migraines, but a particularly bad one has him in need of some rescuing
#16 : Crash landings are never comfy.
#17: Keef take a tumble.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The mission had been a fairly risky one from the start. The Anguis people had made their distaste for the galra very clear, so clear that they had monuments dedicated to battles they’d won against them, in all their gruesome detail. The paladins only had the displeasure of seeing two statues, though they were assured there were many more; one of a female Anguis sinking her fangs into a screaming galran solders throat, and the other, a male Anguis nobleman who had skewered a pair of galra, who’s expressions painted an all too realistic picture.

And with this being only the third diplomacy mission after Keith had discovered his maternal blood line, all of the paladins were on their toes. It wasn’t like Keith had suddenly sprouted purple fur all over him, but Allura assured them of this race’s senses, and how heightened they are. However, this was precisely why the coalition needed them and fast.

And for a good while, everything was going to plan. Allura was doing her thing, Shiro would interject helpful additions to her points and Hunk, Pidge and Lance would be doing something to keep themselves occupied but still listen to the princess’s proposal. The Anguis leader, the Queen, was fully invested in Allura’s words, nodding and asking questions that required thoughtful answers. The two women were conversing like old war buddies rather than visiting strangers. Keith couldn’t really believe it, but it was going well.

It was going well.

Keith couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the negotiations went south, but if he had to guess, it was when the Queen’s handmaiden whispered something in her ear. After that, the Queens questions had a bite to them; they had hatred behind them. Everything had been fine, great in fact, up until that moment. That one second before the air in the room got sucked out like they were in a vacuum. Keith hadn’t even been looking at the Queen, he’d actually been focused on Allura’s proposals for once, but he felt the exact moment the Queen’s eyes started barring into the back of his skull. He turned around before his other senses could realize, and he met those eyes — those five, serpentine, eyes — and felt a chill run up his spine unlike anything he’d experienced before. Her eyes absolutely read him. Uncoiled every crumbled or smothered detail of his person, of his body and mind. She bore into him, and the pressure felt like a snake was wrapping around his ankles, slowly coiling up his legs with the goal to swallow him whole. But for the life of him, he couldn’t blink.

He’d avoided staring to avoid such offending any customs or traditions, but now as he finally got to look at the leader they’d come to win over, the faster his heart seemed to beat in his ears.

Her features shared a terrifying likeness to that of a Earth cobra snake, with the flicking tongue and all, but the extra eyes and very abundant teeth were definitely not like the snakes Keith had grown to live around in the desert.

His breath had caught when he’d first met her stare, and apparently what little noise escaped him derailed Allura’s usually calculated attention. Or maybe she felt the same weight Keith was being assaulted with. As Allura’s attention went from her simulation to the back of Keith’s head, so did every paladin. One by one, Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, and finally Lance all joined in the starring contest with the back of Keith’s head, and although Keith could feel them all, none of their stares felt anything like the Queen’s.

Shiro made the first move, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, but upon his touch, Keith’s entire arm fell numb and the few footsteps he took to close their gap echoed like they were a football field away.

Shiro had seen Keith have panic attacks before, and they were nothing like this. Usually it happened all at once, like the bottle Keith had shoved all his feelings down in finally popped its cork, but with Shiro’s help, he would get through it.

This was nothing like the dozens of times before. Even with Shiro’s helpful guidance, his words and his presence were having no affect, in fact it looked like Keith couldn’t even hear him. Keith’s eyes were bugged, and his breathing was slowly getting more and more labored. And most worryingly, he had yet to break eye contact with an increasingly angry looking Queen.

Though he could feel nothing else, Keith started to notice the coiling rising above his knees, and with nothing to prompt him but this invisible force, he felt his knees slam together with the pressure of a tightening rope. His legs buckled, and Shiro caught his arms, but Keith couldn’t break the Queen’s stare.

He vaguely heard familiar voices flair up, and other footfalls both toward and away from him.

The tightness was up to his hips now, and his joints throbbed in protest as the pressure got tighter and tighter. Every sense told him to run run run, but even as he clawed at his legs, the pressure would not loosen at all.
He slammed his forehead to the cold floor, and scratched and his torso, trying whatever he could to make the tension lessen, but it only climbed higher, and with every advance, the more his heartbeat drowned out his surroundings.

His chest was compressed with such force he felt something give way. Then more blinding pain, then no room to inhale or exhale. What little breath he could get was halved once again, leaving him with pitiful short wheezes as his only option. Even with Shiro’s stabilizing hold, Keith felt his torso fall forward, his knees slipping out from under him and his arms falling beside him like lead.

Then, in only a few seconds, his neck tightened, cutting off even the wheezes. He rolled over onto his back and thrashed and clawed at his throat, at the nothing that was choking him.

Tears welled in his eyes, but when his vision began to blur he wondered if it was blood. He couldn’t feel anything but the blinding pain as his entire body was crushed by absolutely nothing.

Chapter 2: He's Ours (2/2)

Summary:

Part 2 of the last chapter - NOT BETA READ so all mistakes are mine!

Allura’s mind short circuited when she heard Keith’s breath catch.

Her entire ‘train of thought’, as Shiro once put it, was derailed violently as a heavy pressure began to lay down on her mind. She felt a deep, primal hatred, but it was not at her.

She had briefed the paladins on why this alliance was important, but failed to explain just how important. She failed to inform them that the Anguis’ allegiance insured at least a dozen other neighboring planets’ allegiance as well, an influx of numbers that the coalition needed desperately if they didn’t want to loose more lives.

She knew this alliance was crucial to the betterment of the coalition, she knew she needed to be on this species good side, for the greater good of the universe, but her entire being stuttered in that one second when confronted with such an evil presence.

Shiro quickly made his way over to Keith and began to comfort him, but Allura knew that wouldn’t help. The Queen had him in her sights, and she was locked in.

But three of her five eyes shot back to Allura.

“You may continue, Princess Allura.”

And while Allura stood, thrown on whether or not she should speak up and risk loosing this partnership that they needed more than anything for the greater good of the universe, Shiro moved in an instant. Shiro seemed to forget where he was, what they were there to do and who was around them. All that mattered was his brother. All that mattered was Keith.

And Keith looked terrified.

“Keith look at me. I need you to breath with me.”

Allura had seen him do this with Keith before. On the rare occasion Keith became overwhelmed, and the even rarer occasion it happened in front of the other paladins, Shiro would sit Keith down and talk him through breathing exercises, and offer words of comfort and reassurance, and 8/10 times, he would be okay.

But this was not a panic attack.

Shiro could practically hear his brothers heart rate skyrocketing, as cold sweat began to sheen on his brow as he obviously began to panic.

Allura wanted to tell him what was happening, who was causing it, but she held herself back.

She needed them. The coalition needed them.

So she continued her speech.

But she only made it through a few more sentences before she heard Keiths knees slam against the ground, even as Shiro tried to keep him upright. He had barely time to react as Keiths legs were unexplainably drawn together, making him collapse entirely onto his knees. Shiro wrapped his arm around him to steady him.

The Queen hissed, seemingly in annoyance, her tongue slipping between a small gap in-between her rows of teeth.

“I said you may continue, Princess.”

Allura swallowed dryly and her legs began to feel unsteady. She just needed to win her over, then she would stop, surely. She couldn’t look at the paladins, but out of the corner of her eye she saw the others rush to Keiths side as well, trying to assess what was happening to him.

“Keith, please.”

“Keith, buddy, tell us what’s happening.”

“Are you hurt?”

But Keith said nothing, only breathing harder and becoming more alarmed by the second; his unmoving eyes reddening as the minutes ticked by without him blinking - tears welling at the edges and veins closing in around the edges.

Still, Allura continued, using her gadgets and shaking hands to show the Queen the plans and maps she had queued up. Her stomach rolled with shame as she tried to tune out Keith’s mutters of pain and fear.

In only a few seconds, Shiro followed Keith’s unbroken glare and found that while the Queen was watching Allura with the majority of her eyes, two had yet to break Keith’s stare.

And that was all the information Shiro needed to gather to make an educated guess of what was happening. He felt red hot anger rise in his chest, and his arm began to warm as his fist clenched.

He knew that whatever was happening to Keith was undoubtably the Queen’s doing.

And apparently so did his team.

Because Shiro didn’t even need to turn to recognize the noise of a bayard shifting into weapon form, but did turn around to determine it was Lance who had his rifle now trained on the Queen. Hunk and Pidge had their hands trained on their own bayards, ready to fight but not yet activated.
“Stop it! What ever the hell you’re doing to him, stop it!” Pidge yelled, her face hardened but her voice betrayed just how worried she really was.

“Can’t you see you’re hurting him?!” Hunk added, his hands shaking.

“Whatever it is you’re doing to him, stop immediately.” His tone was controlled, cold even, but he spit out every word.

Lance’s rifle started to glow, slowly powering up as he teased the trigger.

“That’s enough Lance! Put your bayard away this instant!” Allura panicked.

“What the— can’t you see she’s torturing Keith?!” Pidge practically screamed.

“I— We need to remember we are in the presence of a Queen.” Allura tried, a sheen of sweat on her temple as she tried to save her chance.

She thought about the thousands of lives that could be saved by this species’ loyalty.

“Lance please lower your weapon, it is critical that you do so.” she practically begged.

But Lance did not lower his rifle.

The Queen’s guard drew her sword, and even though she was up against a gun, she looked at Lance like she was just daring him to try her.

The Queen smiled — as much of a smile she could with that mouth of razors — as her three free eyes fell on him. Lance’s grip tightened.

Shiro was beyond confused. Why was Allura acting like Keith wasn’t writhing on the floor in front of her? Did she really still have a grudge over him because of his heritage?

And he noticed she had yet to even look in Keith’s direction.

Which made Shiro see red.

Shiro knew that it was important that this negotiation went well, all of the paladins did, but when their team — their family — is threatened, there’s nothing they won’t do.

And Allura was not acting.

Keith was clawing at his sides now, his body squirming to wriggle away from whatever was attacking him. A few pained whimpers managed to whisper passed Keith’s firewall.

Allura was taking too damn long to do something.

Shiro’s arm was just getting pinker and brighter as his patience wore thinner.

And once again, the other paladins shared his thoughts.

Lance fired one shot, the sound ricocheting off of the vaulted ceilings of the throne room and right back into ringing ears. He’d fired right in between the Queen and her handmaiden, in the one foot distance between the two Anguis’ heads.

“I said — stop whatever you’re doing. I can promise you I won’t miss again.” Lance sounded more serious than Shiro had ever heard. And by the looks on Hunk’s and Pidge’s faced, neither did they.

Allura wanted to scream at him, she wanted to grab Lance by the collar and shake him. This was too important.

The Queens guard looked like she was just waiting for her moment, waiting for that one sign from her Queen to start her fun.

But with one raised hand by the Queen, the guard lowered it somberly.

“No need for that Nagini, I want them to thank me after I erase this galran filth from their ranks.”

Allura finally gathered herself enough to try to speak again a deep desperation evident in her voice.

“We are very much aware of our Red Paladin’s heritage, and we assure you he is loyal to our cause. There is no need for this reaction to continue, your Excellence.”

This reaction

Was the torture that Keith was going through just a simple reaction?

Shiro made to stand up, but froze as Keith’s fast breaths faltered and morphed into wheezes as he flipped onto his back and began to claw frantically at his throat.

Hunk and Pidge had abandoned their threatening stances and rejoined Shiro in trying to help Keith, which mostly consisted of Pidge rattling off possible reasons as to why Keith was acting like this and Hunk disproving each theory almost instantly, one after the other.

They tried lifting him up to clear his airways, they tried blocking the Queen’s view of him, Lance tried firing off rapid fire colorful insults the Queen, but nothing was working.

They had no idea how to help him.

Allura’s chest tightened as she could feel a fraction of the pain Keith was enduring, and her stomach dropped with grief.

What was she thinking?

There would be more species willing to pledge their loyalty.

Her paladins mattered more than this alliance.

Keith’s eyes watered as he struggled to inhale any more air than a rasp afforded him. The vibrant violet was quickly dulling as the air supply no doubt began to half, and Keith’s kicking started to slow, as well did his frantic hands. The muscles in his neck strained visibly, and the gasping exhales that managed passed his lips sounded like nails on a chalkboard. His lips her turning blue.

She had seen enough.

She abandoned her presentation spot and quickly knelt by Keith’s side, taking his weight off of Shiro and into her lap.

“Shiro,” Allura began, but faltered as the anger evident on Shiro’s face shocked her, but she continued,

“You need to make those two eyes close. Whatever means necessary.”

He stood up, and in only two strides was inches away from the Queen, his galran hand catching her serpentine tongue as it was mid-hiss. It sizzled and smoked as his grip tightened and his anger made it grow hotter.

She let out a shrill screech and all five of her eyes shut as the pain and smoke from her own tongue made her entire form shrivel. Lance saw his opportunity and shot the Queen’s handmaiden in the shoulder as she was winding back to stab Shiro, and she fell like a sack of bricks at her Queen’s feet.

As soon as the Queen’s concentration was outweighed by her agony, the connection broke completely, and Keith’s limbs dropped like lead and his gasps all at once turned into deep throat grating breaths. But the air was too cold, too much, and Keith began to cough violently. Allura flipped him onto his side as blood and spit splattered onto the floor, Keith’s neck visibly bruising more and more yellow and purple by the second. But even if it was through hacks, he was breathing again.

Allura placed her hands on Keiths temples and closed her eyes, and for just a moment Allura could feel all of Keiths pain, all of his agony. His ribs were bruised and one was fractured, his ankles were throbbing and his throat felt like sandpaper with every breath. But with one moment of concentration, Allura sent Keith to sleep. He had been through enough pain for one day.

With a nod from Allura, Pidge and Hunk quickly threw Keith’s arms over their shoulders and made a break for it out of the throne room. Lance, kept his rifle trained on the Queen, ready to fire any second if Shiro lost control of her.

Allura had never seen so much hate emanate off of Shiro. His usual passiveness was no where to be found as pure detestation seeped off of him.

He still had her tongue sizzling in his galran arm, and his flesh one had grabbed onto her face, and he was staring into her eyes as he spat his words.

“You think you can just torture my brother right in front of me and not expect some punishment?”

She opened her mouth and spoke carefully, as to not move her tongue.

“Your Princess would never allow such action to befall me! I am crucial to your little fight against our common enemy. Without my sign off, my entire quadrant of the galaxy will never follow you into battle!”

Shiro faltered for one second, as he began to understand why Allura had been so desperately trying to salvage her speech.

But that did not put out the fire that was now burning hot behind his eyes.

“I was wrong to have questioned my instincts your Excellence,” Allura began, stepping closer to Shiro and the Queen, “I should have done what my gut was telling me to do all along.”

“Yes, see, worthless galran conspirator! Your princess will have you whipped for what you’ve done to me!”

Allura stepped within a foot of the Queen, placing a hand on Shiro’s galran shoulder.

“This is for hurting my paladin.”

Allura gripped Shiro’s shoulder tight and yanked it back, the Queen’s tongue ripping out of place and out with it.

She screeched again, and fell forward onto her knees, her green blood and saliva spilling like waterfalls onto the floor.

Allura knelt down to her level, and looked her in the eyes.

“Don’t ever torment my team again. Or I won’t be so nice next time.”

Shiro stood in shock for one moment, but followed when Allura stood to leave. Lance kept his eye trained on the knelt serpent, even after the two passed him. Only after he was sure she wouldn’t get up did he jog to catch up with them.

Allura couldn't hear Shiro or Lance as they tried to get through to her. Her thoughts were too loud. Her pace was quick, and even Shiro had a hard time keeping up with her as they made their way back to their lions.

Allura had a lot of apologizing to do.

Notes:

MORE KEITH WHUMP ANGST TO COME!

Chapter 3: Trauma (One-Shot)

Notes:

Hi hi hi - once again this is not beta read and im sorry for any grammatical mistakes!

tw: blood

Lance had been in a car accident before, back on Earth. He could remember it clear as day, and sometimes he would feel that very same moment of impact just before he could fall asleep. Looking back on it, It wasn’t even that traumatic compared to everything he’d experienced in space since, but maybe that was the very reason it plagued him so often.

It was a hot summer day, and he was maybe nine or ten. His Tio had decided to take him and his twin Rachel to get some piragua. It wasn’t his Tio’s fault, he knew that for a fact, because Lance saw the light turn green, but also saw the oncoming van not stop. He remembers shards of splintered glass raining down into his lap, and he vaguely recalls thinking it was pretty. Rachel screamed, but Lance just braced himself, bending his knees in the nick of time so his body didn’t just flop forward. The van hit Lance’s side of the car, but luckily moreso the empty front seat. Lance can remember not being able to stand when his ears stopped ringing and Rachel tugged him out of the wreckage. They were very lucky to get away with only a few scrapes and bruises, but Lance would have nightmares about what would’ve happened if they weren’t so lucky for years afterwards.

Since coming to space, he hadn’t really thought about it all that much. To put it lightly, was more of a back burner trauma in his mind.

But he saw that memory play out right in front of him, right in the middle of a galran armada. The warship had its sights on him and his lion, but he noticed just a second too late, and the ion cannon was already mere tiks away from firing. And he could’ve easily put pedal to the metal and gotten out of the way with only a singed tail, but he froze. Because he saw that van, hurtling towards him and without thinking, he braced his legs on the consul, bending them at the knees, and closed his eyes to prepare for the blow. He waited for the shower of glass, he waited for his sister’s scream, he waited for his ears to ring so loudly it outsung his racing heartbeat.

But instead of an impact from the side, like he’d braced for both times, he felt something tackle him from the front. He yelped as Red tumbled head over tail, spinning out of control for a second too long for Lance’s liking, when he heard the ear splitting screech that he’d been so prepared to be on the receiving end of.

His hand went reflexively up to cover his eyes as the purple blast hit something in his stead, sending it listing unmoving and lifeless through the speeding battle around it.

When his eyes finally adjusted, his eyes immediately went to the now dark eyes of the black lion.

_________

Keith had been in quite a few vehicle related accidents back on Earth, only a hand full of which were his fault. In the garrison, he’d stolen a cruiser or two to take on joy rides that resulted in trips to the nurse, but the accidents before the garrison — before he met Shiro — were always with him.

He couldn’t have been older than nine, and he was in the backseat of a car with his foster mother at the wheel. He’d been sent to the principles office again at school, and instead of making him stay after school, she’d opted to ‘handle’ him herself.

Keith had become very good at reading the woman he’d refused on hundreds of occasions to call mom, and it was because of that that he was making as little noise as possible in that backseat. He held his backpack in his arms like a vice, keeping his breathing quite and controlled, despite how much he wanted to explain himself to her.

He knew she wouldn’t listen though.

She’d never talk to him in that car, not once. Because she always wanted to be looked in the eyes when addressed.

So when she began to speak, Keith practically jumped out of his skin.

“You think I enjoy putting 40% of my wage to your schooling Keith? Do you think that you can just continue to disrespect me and my hard earned money by acting out and missing lessons like this?”

Keith dared not speak. He feared he’d yell. Or cry.

“Answer me.”

He kept his eyes trained on the backseat of the shotgun seat. He felt heat rising to his ears.

He vaguely saw her feverishly looking in the rear view mirror, trying to look at him, before she spun around, grabbed him by the knee and stared into his eyes like all the other times she yelled.

“ANSWER ME.”

The crash happened within seconds of her taking her eyes off the road. Even though it was an empty road, the rocky cliffs that bordered both sides of the road made her small mistake into a giant one. When she reached back, her left hand swerved just a little, but even those few inches allowed for the front tire to catch the rocky side road and turn parallel to the road, but since she was also speeding, the car tipped, flipping at least three times before finally landing on its side.

Keith could remember the crash, but nothing after the first roll of the vehicle. Thats when his head hit the car door and he’d gotten his first concussion.

He woke up in the hospital with a slight brain bleed, a fractered elbow and a scratched cornea.

But he was fully awake for this entire impact. He felt his lion scream with pain, but also his own body as the beam hit him square in the side, almost amputating one of Black’s wings in the process. Keith felt his body collapse like a rag doll out of his seat, slamming against the console more than once and his helmet falling off shortly after his visor shattered and obstructed his vision. When Black finally stopped tumbling, Keith was sat up against the far wall of the cockpit, his helmet across the entire room and his elbow being the only thing keeping him from fully splaying out on the floor.

He tasted copper on his tongue.

He could hear his friends calling his name, the console mics echoing his helmets with a millisecond delay.

He could hear a low groan, but when he felt all the air leave his chest he realized it was him.

All he felt was agony. His chest was throbbing, the slight pull of his elbow angering the hand full of fractured or broken ribs not poking at his insides in every which way. With every breath, he felt his head get lighter and lighter, but he fought to stay awake.

He could hear his brother, pleading for him to respond. He could hear Hunk and Pidge overlapping each other as they begged for any sign of his condition.

But Lance was loudest.

He’d been downright yelling at Keith, threatening what he’d do to him if he wasn’t fine when he got in there.

Keith uselessly reached out for his helmet, forgetting just how far away it was and letting his hand fall limply against the metal floor. The sound made his temples pulse, and he groaned again as his balance was thrown off just a fraction. He coughed when a rib seemed to push deeper into a lung, sending warm liquid down his chin and onto his chestplate.

He tried to find his breath, his voice, to tell them he was okay, that he was alive, but he couldn’t.

A weight slammed into Black with only slight momentum, but still sent Keith off his balance and his back slammed into the floor, knocking what little air he had left to ground him as he tried to bite back his scream.

Within seconds, the dented cockpit doors were pried open with a red rifle, and foot falls echoed in his foggy mind. He felt hands graze his chest, and he couldn’t help the whimper that pushed passed his lips. He felt the hands waver, but then slip under his neck and gently raise his shoulders onto a elevated surface. When the moving was over, Keith could breath better, but the pain was omnipresent.

When Keith finally found enough comfort in stillness to open his eyes, he was melt with the oceanic blue.

"I have him, he's awake but tow us as quickly as possible."

Lance had Keith propped up on his knees, at just the right elevation to not aggravate his ribs and allow the internal bleeding to stop drowning him.

“You fucking—“ Lance began, his eyes puffy but freshly wiped of tears.

“You don’t get to just do that. I’m the one that froze up, you can’t just…”

Keith felt his mouth tugging at the sides, and found whatever strength he had left in him and put a finger up to Lance’s lips.

Through now wet eyes, Lance chuckled weakly.

“Did— Did you just shush me?”

Keith was definitely smiling now, somehow.

“When you get out of that pod, I’m gonna kill you myself."

Notes:

Did you like??? Did you hate???? Let me know in the comments please!!

if you have any requests on prompts or whumps, leave it in the comments!

Chapter 4: Silence is Deadly (1/2)

Summary:

On a seemingly abandoned planet that Allura assured them was crawling with Galra, Lance finds himself on a rooftop watching over his friends as they search through buildings through his scope. It's super quiet, too quiet for Lance's liking.

[PART 1 OF 2]

Notes:

tw: blood, major character injury, cauterization

Lance gently dropped to his knees, swiftly but silently dropping to his stomach and getting into position on top of a half crumbling building. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was the highest point over the courtyard, well above his teammates and almost perfect for covering all of their backs.

He leaned through his scope, finding all of his teammates quickly and scanning the open doorframes and shattered windows of the dilapidated houses behind them.

It was too quiet for Lance’s trained ears. There couldn’t be any life on a planet so ear splittingly silent, could there? He yawned, ears popping; if he didn’t know better, he may’ve closed his eyes for a few minuets. But, he stayed alert. Allura assured them there were an alarming amount of reports of galran activity on the surface, now they just had to find out where the hell they went in such a hurry.

He watched his friends moving in and out of the buildings through his scope, following one until he got bored enough to switch to another. This vicious cycle repeated more times than Lance wanted it to.

He noticed Shiro was walking the slowest out of all of the team, no doubt being the most cautious but also most thorough in his search.

Pidge had her bayard activated since the moment they landed on that planet, and so when something equivalent to a space rat jumped out of one of the piles of rubble, Pidge almost ripped it in half after she managed to not scream. Lance had to hold back his laughter as she tried to play if off, scanning around her to check if anyone had even seen her.

Hunk was walking between houses with a slight hop in his step, no doubt singing one of his favorite songs in his head like he did while he cooked.

While watching Keith for the third or fourth time, he was bored enough to note how his mullet had seemingly gotten longer, as it stuck out of the back of his helmet in an even more annoying way than he’d made fun of his for before. He zoomed in on his helmet, looking for confirmation on his theory and sure enough, that mop of hair flopped not only against the nape of his neck but also hit the top of his back. Oh the jokes he would subject Mullet to when they returned home.

Then, a movement caught Lance’s eye, a figure ducking into a doorway of the building Keith was just about the walk into.

He scanned the windows of said building vehemently.

He took a breath, about to tell Keith to skip that building, but he froze.

A small noise shattered the silence he’d grown so accustomed to, and for a millisecond Lance thought he’d just imagined it.

Because he was sure that that noise sounded like a shoe shuffling on concrete. And he could’ve sworn it sounded just feet away from him.

He chalked it up to sound carrying easily in such a silent planet and kept his sights in the scope.

Keith had already stuck his head through the doorframe, scanning cautiously before he would decide to go in, and Lance saw the figure move again, just out of Keith’s line of sight and right into his.

He lined up the shot, and quickly flicked off the safety.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself.

He slowly began to pull the trigger.

When something collided with his side, knocking him over and making the shot fly wide.

Without even thinking, adrenaline rushing loud and proud through his heart in an instant, he pulled a blade off of his tool belt and stabbed whatever had run into him, warm liquid spraying onto his arm as he kicked the weight off of him and scrambled back to his scope.

Because it wasn’t the sound of his bayard going off that made his ears ring, it was the barrage of gun fire that rang out after it.

He practically jammed his sights back through the scope, ready to defend his team against the onslaught of firepower that had been activated by his shot.

He quickly found Hunk and Pidge, back to back and slaughtering sentries left and right as they tried to approach them. It took him longer to find Shiro, even though he’d only been a building in between Hunk and Pidge, because he had sprinted across the whole courtyard after Lance’s bayard fired, bounding at least a hundred yards in only a few seconds.

Because Keith had gone down.

Chapter 5: Silence Is Deadly (2/2)

Summary:

The realization of what he's done...

 

[PART 2 of 2]

Notes:

The next chapter only a day later??? WHO AM I?!?!!

Shiro had practically thrown himself over Keith, slicing sentry and soldier in half if they got within range.

While watching Shiro’s six, Lance briefly found himself formulating how exactly he’d make fun of Keith for getting shot so quickly, and for going down so hard from, assumedly, a measly sentry’s stun gun.

He recalled the many times Keith and the other paladins had gotten hit with one of those weapons, sure it would sting and bruise but it was hardly something that would knock the oh so great and powerful Keith.

But when Shiro was afforded a break in his defense, his scope actually fell on Keith, and he knew immediately he hadn’t been hit with a stun gun.

He was on his side, shaking hands applying as much pressure as he could muster on the wound on his thigh. It appeared that a blast had had ripped though his paladin armor like butter, a feat almost unheard of for ground-patrolling galran weapons. The wound was gushing, leaking relentlessly in between Keith’s no doubt white knuckle grip on it.

He zoomed in on the wound, confused how a sentry could do such devastating damage, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

Because that wound wasn’t made by any galran weapon.

The wound was most definitely made by a bayard.

His bayard.

Lance’s mind swam.

The shot that had gone wide, the shot he knew he heard hit the pavement, had apparently gone through his teammate along the way.

His jaw clenched so tightly his temples began to throb. He managed to unclasp his death grip on his rifle to unmuted his coms.

The feed was mostly static due to how far away Lance was and how thick the planet’s atmosphere was, but fragments of his friends’ voices managed to get through.

“What—ened to Keith?!” Definitely Pidge, her worry and confusion palpable in what little words Lance heard.

“I don’t—a sniper—bleeding—lions!” Shiro was out of breath, understandably so after taking down countless enemies coming at him on all sides. But now that the coast was becoming clear, he was knelt down next to Keith, assessing the damage. Lance could see the confusion on his face too.

Then a small noise broke through his friends’ voices, raspy breaths, through no doubt clenched teeth.

Lance zoomed on Keith’s face, his hot breaths fogging up his visor in harmony with the raspy breaths through his com.

There was no quiznaking way Keith would die because of him.

With a new fire lit under his ass, he ripped himself out of his own mind and got to work clearing the last of the soldiers coming at his friends, downing a dozen in a blink.

After he cleared a path, not only for them, but himself, he literally jumped to his feet, bayard reverting in hand as he ran down the hundreds of stairs between him and his friends.

His breath echoed in his ears, drowning out his frantic steps and driving him forward, forward, forward.

Once he reached the bottom, he sprinted across the courtyard. As he got closer and closer, his friends voices finally cleared of static.

Hunk was nowhere to be seen, assumedly running to his lion for bandages. Pidge was holding Keiths hand, practically shouting at him to keep his eyes open, while Shiro kept pressure on his thigh. The blood hadn’t even remotely slowed down, gushing relentlessly even though Shiro was no doubt applying a staggering amount of pressure.

Had—

Had Lance hit an artery?

“Keith- Keith don’t you dare close those ey- Keith look at me.” She shook his hand, rattling his helmet with the other.

He thought he heard Keith hum confirmation, but the raspy breaths only continued. By then Lance had closed the distance between them, dropping to his knees to help Shiro.

When Lance pushed his hands over Shiro’s, he heard Keith’s breath catch in his throat and his other leg stiffened. His grip on Pidge’s hand tightened as he seemed to hold back a scream.

His visor was almost fully fogged up, but he saw how hard Keith was biting his lip and how tight his brow had sewn.

“Do the galra have a new weapon or something?! A shot from a sentry has never done this much damage!”

Shiro just panted, his eyes too wide and too unfocused. He was focusing on one thing and one thing only — not letting the galra take another brother away from him.

But there was just so much blood.

Lance’s mouth filled with cotton, he couldn’t bring himself to look at either of them. His hands shook as Keiths blood stained his gloves.

He just looked at the wound, the wound that he caused. There was no doubt in his mind now that it was his shot. The armor was melted around the shot, where it usually shattered or cracked under normal stress. This was damage done by something made in vein with the armor.

“The bleeding isn’t stopping… why isn’t it stopping?” Pidge squeaked, Lance wondered if she meant to say it out loud.

Lance’s heartbeat was too loud, why was it so loud in his ears. His breaths began to quicken and black dots danced behind his eyes. He needed to save him, he wouldn’t let him die because of his mistake.

He needed to tell them.

Just do it.

It’s not like you did it on purpose.

They’ll hate you but maybe Keith will live.

He managed to control his breath,

“It was-,” Lance choked, barely more than a whisper, as he saw both Shiro’s and Pidge’s gazes fall on him in his peripheral. The rest came out like word vomit, not allowing himself to stop.

“It was me. My shot went wide when I was tackled on my perch. It was my bayard.”

Lance’s chest tightened, sweat dripping down his cheek as he gulped down air to stop from having a full on panic attack.

“But it was an accident! I swear! I would never…” Lance’s wet eyes finally spilled down his cheek, “is he going to die because of me?”

Pidge’s reddened eyes fell on the wound, her grip on Keith’s hand wavering for just a moment. She knew how much damage a bayard blast could do, and her mind was no doubt racing.

Suddenly, Shiro seemed to come back to his body and his eyes cleared. His resolve hardened and he found his unwavering voice.

“Lance, pin his legs. Pidge, hold his arms above his head.”

Lance’s stomach did a summersault for the umpteenth time in the last few minutes. Lance still couldn’t meet his eyes, but he obeyed without thought. He straddled his legs, being careful not to jar the injury while he found stability. Pidge began to speak, about to question, but when she saw Shiro warming up his arm, she understood immediately and did as she was told.

Lance wished more than anything he could give Keith something to bite down on.

Keith didn’t stir when Shiro removed his hands from the wound, if anything his body relaxed with relief. But it was only for a few seconds, Shiro not wasting any more time.

He steadied his palm above the wound, placing the other underneath Keith’s leg so he could apply enough pressure for as long as needed. And brought it down without warning, Keith’s seemingly weak body now fighting with all his might to make the agony stop. A gravely scream ripped itself out of Keith’s throat, his bottom lip bleeding down his chin as his canines sliced through it. The scream was like nothing Lance had ever heard, especially from Keith. It was absolutely unencumbered, like every defense Keith had put up against the pain had shattered in an instant and he was finally allowing himself to feel. He sounded desperate, defeated and almost feral.

Pidge held his wrists in a death grip, small sobs escaping her lips when he jostled her enough. Lance got a knee to the visor, which he thought was the least he deserved.

After a few agonizing seconds, Keith stilled and his head lolled against Pidge’s knee. Shiro was glad of it, because when he pulled his hand away, Keith’s leg was a mess of dried blood, rippled skin, and now, third degree burns. But the blood had slowed, just enough so that when Hunk finally returned with bandages assuring everyone Allura was coming to pick them up, a few raps of bandages were all that were necessary to stop the flow entirely.

Lance’s heart continued to pound as he watched Shiro, watching for any hint of malice or anger. Or disappointment.

“Lance.”

He bodily jolted, and finally met Shiro’s eyes.

“We know you’d never do this on purpose,” Shiro began, his voice was so calm, and so calming, “He’s going to be okay.”

He found himself smiling, warm tears still periodically falling down his cheeks.

Lance finally allowed himself to breath after that, and the all of the adrenaline leaked out of him in an instant. He gently got off of Keith’s legs and stood, his knees wobbling and his head spinning. But Hunk held his shoulders, catching him before he could stumble. He threw Lance's arm over his shoulder and grounded him.

Shiro picked Keith up with ease, and luckily he stayed under as they began to walk back to their lions.

Pidge gave a dry chuckle. She was still shaking, but she knew Keith was out of the woods.

“If anything, you’ve doomed yourself. Now he’ll have a trump card to play over you during any and all of your little arguments.”

Lance breathed out a laugh, and managed to put on his best disappointed face.

“Ah Quiznak… you’re right.”

Notes:

This is all non-beta'd, so please tell me if you see any blaring mistakes!

Make sure to leave a kudos if you enjoyed, and leave a comment telling me what you thought!

Chapter 6: Waking Nightmare (1/2)

Summary:

Keith tries to wake Shiro up from his nightmare as gently as possible, Keith isn't really treated as gently.

{PART 1 of 2}

Notes:

(I will be fixing grammar/context as I write the second part of this story, but please point it out if you see anything)

tw: broken/fractured bones, major character injury

He ran his fingers through his bangs, plastering them up in a no doubt horrendous way, but he was comforted that no one was awake at that hour to see him.

It was at least three hours after everyone had said goodnight on the bridge, and two since Keith had snuck out of his bunk to hit the training deck to — if he was lucky — get tired enough to stand a chance against his insomnia. The lights of the castle ship were dimmed to their ‘night’ settings, and Keith was finally on his way back to his room, fresh bruises blooming on his knee and shoulder from putting the gladiator on a setting or two too high for his sleep deprived state. He padded down the hall as quietly but swiftly as he could, the chilled air of the hallway turning the sweat on his brow cold.

He finally reached his door, but froze in place when a noise he didn’t recognize emanated from further down the hall. For some reason, dread crept up his back. Hearing groans and whimpers echoing from down a dark hallway wasn’t a normal occurrence, obviously, but also because he vaguely recognized the voice. And before his tired brain could stop him, he was walking towards it.

It was coming from only a few rooms down from his, from the exact door he’d thought.

Shiro had no doubt gone to bed a little later than the rest of the team, as he tended to stay up on the bridge even after Allura called it a night, but he would definitely be asleep by now. He had to be exhausted from the last few days missions, more-so than all of the team combined.

Keith knocked, not gracefully or softly, and called after Shiro, hoping that that would be enough to rouse him out of whatever was afflicting him without having to actually invade his space. But the whimpering and groans did not stop, if anything they loudened at the sudden noise.

Shiro had had nightmares before, terribly disturbing nightmares that he seldom ever told anyone about, and Keith couldn’t blame him in the slightest. But they both knew how to comfort the other, or well they learned how to attempt to comfort the other.

So, Keith knew what he was going to see even before he opened the door. Shiro in his bunk, the dim lights showing just enough of him for Keith to see his face scrunched up in anguish and fear. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering exactly what he was reliving, a twisted curiosity his exhausted mind allowed to flourish for a little too long for Keith’s comfort. He dared a step closer, noting the way his brother’s fists were at his sides, like they were stuck there, practically ripping his sheets in half. Short, huffed exhales ripped their way out of his throat, and his white tuft of hair was stuck to his forehead, drenched in an omnipresent sheen of sweat. He saw his eyes frantically looking around the scene playing out behind his lids, but besides a few restless kicks, he seemed to be frozen in place from the waist up.

Keith closed the door and pivoted back to Shiro’s side, kneeling down. He’d always had a knack for seeing well in the dark, so all the better to not startle his brother out of sleep entirely. He just had to rouse him out of the nightmare, gently, so he could get some restful sleep.

“Shiro,” Keith half whispered. Shiro’s movements did not still.

“Shiro, hey…” Keith leaned closer, placing a light hand on Shiro’s forehead. He was sweating a lot, and Keith was 85% sure he was running a fever. He wondered if Coran was awake at this hour? Surely not. But would Shiro only get worse if he waited until morning? Maybe he should just get Coran and apologize if he’s overreacting later.

Keith began to retract his hand.

Shiro moved like lightning, too fast and too strong for Keith to even stand a chance of getting away. Shiro gripped the hand Keith had on his forehead, with his metal hand and began to squeeze. Keith reacted involuntarily, instantly entering fight or flight mode because it fucking hurt. He started to push against the frame of the bed with his legs while pulling at his hand, but Shiro’s strength far outweighed his 2:1. It was seconds before he felt the first crunch, followed by two others, as his knuckles snapped in half. Keith tried to breath through the red hot agony, but when his hand practically folded in half in just a few seconds, he couldn’t help but scream. He kicked and pulled even harder, wrecked yelps slipping past his lips as the adrenaline finally kicked in. The pain was seeping into his being, and like a wild animal caught in a snare, all of his strength flipped on like a switch. Until finally, his legs finally found just enough traction to propel himself across the floor so fast his head slammed into the corner.

[Art for this scene!!]

Jagged breaths broke through the hand he clasped over his mouth, and tears began pooling at the edges of his vision. But even with his tears distorting the room, he saw Shiro sit up, wide eyed and short of breath. He looked around the room frantically for the person attacking him in his dream, and Keith had the forethought to squint his eyes lest they be glowing in the dark like Lance had once told him they had.

“Keith?”

His heart sank to the floor. Shiro’s voice was so raspy, like he had gargled gravel.

Keith remained absolutely and completely still and silent, stilling the tremors of pain and silencing his small sobs. For the first time in his life, he was thankful for the practice he’d had in his foster homes.

Shiro only stayed upright for a few seconds at most, but for Keith it felt like hours. His mind raced.

Shiro didn’t mean it. It was an accident. He doesn’t need to know. He’s got enough to worry about. It’s my fault for not being careful. I should’ve known better. This is my fault. I'll deal with it.

All the while his hand pulsed with agony, each heart beat sending pressure up his wrist and forearm that made him want to pass out then and there. But he kept his good hand over his mouth, waiting, watching.

After years of waiting, his hand white knuckled over his mouth and tears dripping freely down his cheeks, Shiro finally rolled over and pulled his blankets over his head. He heard him groan, then almost immediately his breathing evened out, every other breath coming out as a snore. That was the normal noise Keith was used to hearing whenever he passed his bunk.

But now that he was free to get up and leave, Keith noticed he couldn’t feel his legs. His knees were shaking violently, and whenever he tried to get his legs under him to actually stand up, they felt all too heavy and cold.

He put his good hand on the wall behind him, and shakily forced himself to his feet, using the wall as both a guide and a crutch as he made his way back to the doorway. He opened the door just enough for him to slip through and no more, and once he was in that chilled hallway and finally closed the door, his legs buckled and he felt bile at the back of his throat. Now in the more light, he could see his fingers, crooked at all angles and his palm folded half in half so that his pinky and index finger touched. He regretted trying to move before he even managed to do so. He knew the damage was far worse than he was used to dealing with; broken metacarpal bones healed improperly could mean he could loose motor skills in that hand for the rest of his life.

But Shiro didn’t mean to do it. He’d be a wreck if he ever found out he hurt Keith to the point that he may loose mobility in his hand.

He didn’t need to know.

He could take care of this himself.

He just needed to patch himself up in the med bay before the team woke up.

Notes:

Part two of this story will be posted very soon!! Please comment if you're enjoying so far!

Chapter 7: Waking Nightmare (2/2)

Summary:

What was Shiro actually dreaming about?

And an unexpected but much needed helping hand for Keith.

Shiro was strapped to a cold table, his wrists and ankles latched in place. There was a swinging red light above him, just a few feet away, and he could only see what the light touched and only darkness beyond it. He struggled against his restraints, panic quickly bubbling up his chest. His shoulder throbbed, his stump still angry and red from how recently they’d taken his arm.

What were they planning on taking from him now?

A galran general stepped into the red light, slowly, but he blinked and it was like they teleported right above Shiro. They smiled down at him, the red light making their purple skin a deep blood red. They opened their mouth, fangs gleaming and tongue flicking like a serpent. They placed a giant hand on his forehead, pushing down with monstrous strength, and revealed a jagged blade in the other. Shiro felt his heart about to burst as he began to struggle harder, but only accomplished gashing up his flesh wrist and ankles. Even through the terror, he felt a warmth growing hotter against his shoulder.

“Hold still Champion.”

The general brought the blade down, swiftly dragging it just below his eyes and along the bridge of Shiro’s nose. Shiro held back his yells, his strength slowly growing the more fear seeped into him. Even after the general finished the gash, his hand remained on his forehead, causing Shiro’s neck to scream in retaliation at the pressure. The general slid the edge of the knife along Shiro’s neck, a thick droplet forming and sliding down to his back.

Suddenly a rage filled Shiro, and his vision went red. He dug down deep in his chest, breathing through the panic and concentrated. He willed his metal arm to push passed the power limiter they’d installed until, finally, it warmed up enough to melt through the shackles. He immediately grabbed at the generals hand still planted on his forehead and began to crush it with all of his strength he had left.

He heard the scream, but another voice overlapped the general’s. A voice he thought he recognized.

Then the hand was gone, ripped from his grasp and everything went black.

He jolted up in bed, gasps ripping their way out of him as he tried to calm himself.
He was fine.
He was in his bunk.
On the castleship.
He’d escaped from there.

He brought a hand up to the scar on his nose, padding the rough skin that was warm at the touch. The shrill scream of the general and the other voice combined rung out in his ears. Had he heard…

“Keith?”

His eyes scanned his entire room, corner to corner, but nothing stood out in the darkness. He rubbed his eyes, slowing down his heart rate by doing the breathing exercises he’d grown to know by heart.

Once his heart slowed, the exhaustion of everything both in his dreams and in the last few days caught up to him in an instant. He slowly laid back down and pulled the stiff blankest up over his ears. He closed his eyes, and fought back the images of the fresh nightmare until he fell over the edge.
____________

Keith glided along the sterile walls, soundlessly, with his good hand acting as his only stability. He cradled his other against his chest, every movement not smooth enough sending wave after wave of pain up his entire arm, pulsing with hot agony that had him seeing spots. But on the bright side, he was almost to his destination.

He’d seen exactly where Coran kept the emergency equipment in the medbay the last time he’d been injured, and the thought of an ice pack, some gauze and some pain meds all with his name on them kept him chugging along. And maybe, and it was a big maybe, he could rest in one of the beds for a little. He doubted he’d be in much higher spirits after fumbling to wrap up his mangled hand to go back to his own bed.

By the time Keith finally was close to the medbay door, it was probably around 4am, so he could theoretically wrap his hand, maybe even splint it, rest for at most two hours and then find Coran and tell him about Shiro’s high temp. It sounded like a sound plan in his mind, but one thing stood in the way.

He rounded the corner and audibly choked when he saw that he, regrettably, wasn’t going to get those two hours of sleep after-all. Across the room, typing on a data pad, a red head nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Oh, Keith my boy!” Coran exclaimed, in an unholy volume for 4am that made Keith wince, “I’m terribly sorry for jumping! I had not heard you come in!”

The older man quickly closed the distance between them, folding the data pad under his arm and offering him a warm smile.

He hadn’t seemed to notice the way Keith was using the doorframe to hold himself upright.

“What brings you here so late? Or rather…early? Is there something you needed?” Coran asked, as cheerfully as ever, like it wasn’t such an ungodly hour and Keith didn’t look like an absolute mess.

Keith’s heart picked up again, and a rock formed in his stomach.

This wasn’t the plan.
I didn’t.
I wasn’t prepared for this.

He hadn’t been prepared to run into anyone and most importantly he didn’t have the foresight to clean himself up. He didn’t have time to wipe away the tracks of tears on his cheeks. He didn’t have time to still his shaking legs. And most unfortunately, he didn’t have time to hide his injured limb behind his back before Coran was well within view of the damage.

When Coran noticed, every bit of wistfulness left him in a second. And despite the way Coran’s shoulders fell and eyes widened, Keith took a shaky breath and forced himself to swallow the pain.

“I heard Shiro having a pretty bad nightmare from down the hall... I think he might have a fever.”

Sure. Because drawing that conclusion made complete sense. Nightmare = fever? He and Coran both knew Shiro had nightmares almost every other night; they both knew Keith had to get near him to notice the fever symptoms.

Coran’s eyes flicked in between Keith’s and his injury. His tone was calm, and the amount of coolness in his voice made Keith shudder.

“Keith, what in Alfor’s name happened to your hand?”

Keith wanted to fidget. He wanted so desperately to cross his arms in front of his chest as a sort of blockade, but even the small movement he managed caused his throat to bob as another wave of pain shot up his arm. He needed to think quickly. No one needed to blame anyone for his mistake.

“Yes-Yeah Coran I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep so I went down to the gladiator and it uh- it got the better of me and I-I fell on my hand.”

Keith’s heart rate was elevating so much he feared Coran could hear it.

“Why didn’t you mention it when I asked if you needed something?” Coran asked, his tone resembling a tired parent.

Keith was thinking completely on his feet. Nothing in his mind allowed him to plan anything more than his next response.

“I was uh-” Keith licked his lips, “I was just on my way to come wrap it myself when I heard Shiro. I was gonna just tell you in the morning, thank quiznak you’re here though.” Keith huffed. He even managed a tight, calculated smile.

Coran didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, but nodded.

“Well, you wouldn’t mind letting me see it then, lad? It appears to be quite…major.” Coran reached open hands out to Keith, which made Keith step back involuntarily.

“Ha well you know how the gladiator is when you set it on a level or two too high. It kicks your ass.” Keith swallowed back a wave of nausea as a migraine began to bloom from his temples. “I really think you should check on Shiro first. He was- he sounded like he was really freaking out.”

Coran looked at him almost apologetically. “I will lad, I promise, just let’s take care of you first.”

Coran stepped closer to Keith again, opening his hands much slower this time. Keith resisted the urge to just run, because where would he even go? Go back to his bunk and risk irreversible damage to his dominant hand?

He honestly probably would’ve fought Coran more on the subject if he hadn’t been so tired and on the edge of a panic attack. Keith gingerly held his limb out, and Coran scooped under it so softly Keith didn’t even feel any extra pressure. But an entirely new wave of dizziness hit him as Coran began prodding it, even though it was ever so light and gentle.

“Keith,” Coran began, as delicate as ever, “this doesn’t look like an injury caused by a fall.”

Keith felt a blush rise to his ears. He felt like a kid caught next to a graffitied wall with the spray paint in his hand. Except in much much more pain.

Keith had to think quickly again.

“I was thrown by the gladiator and landed on it wrong. I was more tired than I thought and miscalculated a few steps.” He spouted, just a little too fast.

It wasn’t a complete lie. He had taken a few punches from the gladiator...

Coran signed with an unreadable expression. Grabbing him by the waist, he guided Keith across the room, seemingly sensing his rising dizziness, and let him lean on one of the cots.

Keith almost wanted to lay back and fall into a fitful sleep, but Coran’s continuous examination of his hand kept him very much alert.

He felt traces of adrenaline leaking into his senses as waves of pain became more and more frequent, but thankfully stopped when Coran placed his hand down on the cloth beside him and took out his scanner.

He scanned not only his injury, but his whole body, and as Coran read, his face got more and more distraught. He put the little machine down on the bed next to Keith, ran a hand through his hair and looked him in the eyes.

“Keith, I’m not going to ask what exactly happened,” Coran began, “but you and I both know something more traumatic happened to you tonight. Your injury is exceptionally serious and the thought of you attempting to wrap it up yourself makes my head spin. The fractures in your hands you’ve sustained tonight warrant a pod at the very least. I need you to be honest with me about your injuries from here on out, yeah? Save us both some pain in the future?” He offered Keith a small but teasing smile.

Keith’s anxiety bled through his feet, leaving him feeling cold and shaky. He looked the older man in the eyes, and found his eyes beginning to water again. He felt a warmness in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Yeah. Sure, Coran.” Keith smiled, swallowing the pain and enjoying the warmth.

“Well my boy,” Coran held out his arm, his big smile returning to its rightful place, “Let’s get you in that pod and get you better, shall we?”

Chapter 8: Tethered (1/3)

Summary:

Keith wakes up disoriented and unsure of how he got where he was: tied and gagged to a chair, back-to-back with his teammate in a Galran ship.

Check out the art in Chapter 6 and in this chapter! Its by meeee!!

Notes:

(A little taste of whats next! Next chapter will be longer!)

The intense stinging of the sides of his mouth made him wake up. The rag or whatever cloth that was tied snuggly around his head pulled his cheeks, and the soreness accompanying a long unmoved jaw made him whimper. His wrists were tied behind him, laced through the chair back with some sort of rope. He noted the use of rope and not military cuffs. His ankles were fastened to the respective chair leg, and as he leant forward ever so gently, his suspicion was confirmed; definitely some sort of rope. The sheen of sweat all over his body made his chin stick painfully to his armor, and peeling his skin off of the material made his eyes water. The dread he had been blooming in his chest rose to his throat as he took in where he was.

[Art for this scene!]

The room around him greeted him with dimmed lights, the brightest of which flooded in from under the large bolted door in front of him. He tested how far he could pull his wrists, and wasn’t surprised when his armor limited just how far he could go.

He couldn’t help the panic that was making his finger tips feel like static and his stomach fill with lead.

He shouldn’t have been there. Well, of course he shouldn’t, but in this instance especially. He hadn't been on a mission, he wasn’t in mid-battle, and the castle wasn’t anywhere near any Galran ships when he turned in for bed. He vaguely remembered the castle’s battle alarm blaring, waking up and tugging on his armor before making his way to meet his teammates; but that was absolutely all he remembered. Anything after that was unaccounted for. A unknown chunk of time was just… missing.

Keith tried to naw at his gag, biting and trying to use his tongue to just get it a little loosened, but every movement just rubbed the sides of his mouth more and more raw.

He clenched his eyes closed. His ears were starting to ring, and the thump of a migraine began to throb behind his eyes. He willed his body to cool down, but the weighing heat wasn’t helping his attempt to gather himself. His undersuit gripped to his every limb uncomfortably, making any movement just a little unbearable. He tried to pull at his restraints one more time, and managed to pull at least another few inches before a noise made him freeze.

A groan that was vaguely familiar emanated from behind his chair, and Keith’s wrists were pulled at weakly from under the chair in retaliation. He whipped his neck around, and a blue shoulder pad was leaning against the chair just behind him. A tickle of hair brushed against his ear as his teammate woke up too.

Keith tried to say something, but all that came out was a muffled croak.

Lance groaned, testing his wrists and ankles in seemingly the same order as Keith as he tried to gain his bearings.

But Lance wasn’t given as much time to fully wake up, as the heavy latch on the door was lifted with inhuman ease.

The fortified door swung open with a creek that reminded Keith of far too many horror movies.

Backlit by the lights of the hallway, a Galran general stood in the doorway. He was at least seven feet tall by Keith’s quick evaluation, with thick purple fur that was bisected on his face by a scar that stretched from his eye to his chin. His yellow eyes glinted with unbridled joy as he met eyes with Keith.

“Oh good you’re awake! We can start the interrogation right on schedule.”

The general stepped fully into the room, revealing a satchel around his waist whose loose bindings allowed Keith to catch sight of shining weapons. As the light slowly was snuffed out by the closing door, the general’s smirk only became more devilish in the dimmed room.

_______

Lance had been having a fairly good day. He’d managed to pin Keith in their sparring match, Hunk had made his favorite meal for lunch, and he’d actually fallen asleep in less than an hour, which was a new record for him since coming to space.

So when he was woken up from that blessed sleep by a blaring alarm over the castle comms, he was not a happy camper to say the least. In quiet protest, he pulled on his armor just a few milliseconds slower than he would’ve any other night.

He ran out of his room, not even bothering to shut his door as he sprinted down the hallway.

Then nothing. No one ambushed him, nothing tripped him up and he didn’t even see anything. Everything just went white, and he woke up with a throbbing headache and a new very alive wrist accessory.

Then pain, an unexpected pain, that had him thankful the gag in his mouth stopped him from breaking his teeth. His head was absolutely pounding. His skull felt like a bowling ball had been smashed against it. The pain had him doubling forward, cold sweat gripping his forehead. He tried to contain himself, but the blinding pain kept him from forming a single thought. A huge hand gathered his hair roughly, pulling his neck forward and putting strain on his tethered wrists. He saw the blurred purple face in front of him move its mouth, but his ears were still ringing and he couldn’t make out exactly what it was saying. He felt another hand raise to his head, feeling the back of his skull and finding the sizable welt where his pain was emanating from. When the harsh finger tips grazed the sore spot, a half scream tore out of his throat and was caught by the gag. He felt warm drip down his neck and down his back. He saw the face return to in front of him, screwed into an irritated scowl. He clenched his eyes, trying to clear his vision, but the general apparently was impatient, as he threw Lance’s head back into his seat, knocking painfully into Keith’s. Bright white flooded his vision as a hot pain bloomed from the back of his head, and a wave of nausea hit him like a truck. He kept his eyes shut, but even in the darkness he felt like he was spinning.

He vaguely heard the footsteps retreat, walking behind him and halting there. He heard the same cadence of voice, but directed at behind him. He heard another voice, one he knew, one he knew he should recognize but just couldn’t place it.

Then a bright light bloomed under his legs, and a new figure entered the room. And after a few seconds of hushed talking, he saw two figures make to leave.

But just before they left, one returned and knelt down, blocking most the light from making it to Lance’s feet. He felt the chair behind him knock against his with some harsh motion, and the same gravely voice said only a few words. And then the familiar voice screamed through clenched teeth before they were plunged into darkness once again.

Chapter 9: Tethered (2/3)

Summary:

The General begins the interrogation...

tw: torture :D

NEW ART IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER!!!!

Notes:

YO YO THIS CHAPTER IS ROUGH. I will be editing it before I post the next part, but REALLY wanted to release it ASAP. ENJOY!!!!

The General unpacked his satchel onto a small rolling table one tool at a time. He took his time as he placed them methodically and purposely, going from smallest to longest. Keith’s unchecked mind found itself reminded of a dentistry table, except if the teeth said dentist dealt with were giant and made of steel. There were four blades; one serrated, one needle thin, one about a foot long and one that glowed with a dull blue. Keith couldn’t help but wonder just how many people had been on the receiving end of each blade.

But Keith knew no matter what happened, he wouldn’t give him anything.

He turned around to look as much to his teammate as he possibly could, wiggling his wrists trying to get a reaction out of him. He saw the blood dripping down Lance's scalp, which wasn't comforting. He knew if Lance had a concussion he needed to keep him awake even if he couldn’t use his voice to do so.

Lance only groaned whenever Keith jostled him, unfocused eyes slowly scanning the room before returning closed.

Not hearing the Blue Paladin’s usual banter was weird enough, but him not even putting up a fight against their restraints told Keith just how badly his teammate was off.

Keith knew three things in that moment: he couldn’t let Lance’s head injury get any worse than it already was, he needed a weapon if he wanted to cut the surprisingly resilient rope fastening them together, and he needed to get him out of there quickly.

So he started to squirm, trying to form a few choice, colorful words through the rough fabric.

It worked after only a few seconds, as the General turned to Keith in the middle of polishing the thin blade. His smile had yet to waver.

“Just wait a few more ticks Paladins, I’ll get to you soon enough.” The General said, sounding like an impatient parent.

Keith swallowed passed the doubt he had in his plan, because it was the only plan he had, so kept struggling; finally tearing the skin around his mouth as he continued to yell at him as loud as he could.

Keith needed him mad.

The General slammed his fists onto the metal table, the blades clanking as they were thrown into the air and fell back onto the tray, scattered. The man turned, sped over to Keith and gripped his face roughly, making him meet his eyes. In his other hand, he held the long blade up into Keith’s gaze.

“WILL YOU JUST WAIT?!”

Keith continued to murmur and struggle as much as he could, pulling against the giant hand holding his face like it was a baseball.

Well that was quick.

“Fine, since you’re so eager to talk,” the General bit out as his smile slowly returned to his lips, “Why don’t you tell me exactly which planets have joined your little coalition, Paladin. ”

With one swift motion, the General swiped the blade upwards, and in a blink of an eye Keith’s gag fell into his lap, and blood began to bubble from the fresh gash in his cheek.

But Keith didn’t even feel it. He rolled his jaw, repressing a wince. He looked directly into the asshole’s eyes, conjuring up as much bite as he could in his voice.

“I was just going to say you were taking too damn long.”

As soon as the cloth fell completely, Keith hauled back and spit up at the General, managing to hit him in the eye with pinpoint accuracy.

The General reeled backwards in disgust, falling onto his backside before a deep growl began to reverberate in the back of his throat. The noise, while not loud in the slightest, made Keith’s hair stand on end and his blood run cold.

Keith turned quickly, craning his neck to get close to Lance’s ear as he half-whispered.

“Lance, if you can hear me, I’m getting us out of here… just hold on a little bit longer.”

Lance’s head only lolled back to the side, and the dread in Keith’s stomach fell all over again.

The General was back up on his feet in and instant, grabbing his face once again but with even less restraint of his strength. Keith felt his jaw click under the pressure.

“Feeling cocky, boy? Let’s see how long that lasts.” The General practically threw Keith back into his chair, the harsh motion leaving Keith dazed. The man stomped back to his table and picked up the serrated blade, eyeing it while no doubt trying to decide what he should do first.

On the bright side, Keith’s plan had worked, the idiot dropped his blade and Keith could see it waiting for him in the corner of the room.

But it backfired when the asshole turned his attention to Lance.

“Hey-” Keith began, a bubble of anger coming up his throat, “Don’t you dare touch him!

He swore he heard the asshole chuckled, and Keith saw red as he began to struggle harder.

Unbothered, he rounded behind Keith, kneeling down to Lance’s eye level and roughly grabbed a handful of his brunet hair. The other boy yelped as his sore head was jostled, and the General’s smile was seething in his voice as he spoke.

“Do you want to tell me what I want to know, Blue Paladin?”

Lance grimaced, but made no effort to even attempt an answer behind his gag. His foggy eyes slowly traced the General, and confusion spread across his face.

“Leave him alone.” Keith growled, his voice breaking from misuse.

The General sighed dramatically.

“Now you want to talk, Red Paladin? Well you’re going to have to wait your turn now.” He said as he dragged Lance’s head farther up by his hair, “Damnit, did I hit you too hard?”

The General made to feel for the wound on the back of Lance’s head and found it all too quickly. Lance’s back arched upward and he choked out a scream as he weakly tried to wriggle out of the agony.

“Oh, seems I broke him on the ride over…” The General said unceremoniously. He pulled his hand back, fresh blood dripping down his fingers.

“Stop it!” Keith barked, writhing with all his might against the ropes.

Keith felt a hum in the back of his mind, one that soothed him. Promised him.

Suddenly, the ship rocked, nearly knocking the chairs over and actually managing to make the General stumble. The asshole cursed, but managed to keep his footing. He heard Lance murmur a soft exclamation.

The General stood and listened, his plush ears turning every which way listening for any further disturbance.

The General threw Lance back against his seat and rounded back into Keith’s view, holding the knife to his neck.

“If the other one can't talk, I guess you're the one who gets to have all the fun.”

A harsh knock drew Keith’s wide eyes to the bolted door in front of him just as another armor-clad General appeared in the doorway. He didn’t even look at Keith as he crossed the room to get to the General’s side. The new General spoke softly, but Keith heard everything he said with absolute clarity.

“General Larken, the Red Lion has damaged our auto-fire systems and we need you at the bridge.”

The General scowled and pulled his lips tight, like an angry toddler. He turned and whispered back.

“Can’t this wait?”

“No, sir. The damage is…extensive. And we will take more if the guns go unmanned.”

The General ran a hand through his hair, fiddling with his blade in the other. He sighed again, but Keith saw him brighten as his eyes traced his blade, then fell on Keith.

A chill shivered down Keith's spine.

“Guess we'll have to wait! But would you mind holding this for me, Red Paladin?”

Keith only managed to register the question just a hair too late.

In a blink, the General reeled his arm back and stabbed his blade directly into Keith’s leg, up to the hilt.

All of the air left Keith’s lungs in that one second, and he jolted forward in unconscious shock. Keith’s head flew back as he tried to catch his breath, knocking into Lances as he smothered the scream caught in his throat. The hilt was sticking out of the sparse area uncovered by his armor on his upper thigh, his undersuit around the gash turning black in the dimmed lighting.

Keith didn’t know if he’d hit bone, or hell, if he’d hit an artery, because the agony that jolted up his limb and spine made him almost bite his own tongue out.

“You- motherfu-” Keith managed between gasping breaths.

The General looked giddy as he stood back up and waved in Keith’s face.

“Thanks. I’ll be back soon to pick that up.”

Notes:

HI HI HI thanks for all the support on this collection, especially recently! Leave a comment telling me if you hate me for yet another cliff hanger :D

Chapter 10: Tethered (3/3)

Summary:

“Well at least now we know you aren’t made of cake”

Suddenly, retrieving the knife in the corner of the room was put on the back burner.

Keith knew pain. It was like an old friend that he would meet practically every other day. But this degree of pain was unfamiliar, a deepened and grasping pain that didn’t even allow him to unclench his fingers. This pain was an intruder, a complete stranger.

Keith tried to focus on something—anything to distract him from the agony pulsing up his limb, and once again felt the hollowness of his teammates silence. He tried to breath, but couldn’t find anything in the barren room to ground him as his mind started to panic all over again. In the recesses of his mind, the part still functioning through the pain, he knew for a fact Lance would know just how to lighten the growing dread settling in his chest.

What would he say? Definitely a taunt, but one with no bite behind it.

Something like…

“I know you like knives, but this is a little extreme dontcha think?”

“That’s what you get for prompting such a fluffy general. More floof always equals more evil.”

“Well at least now we know you aren’t made of cake”

He felt the edges of his sore cheeks crease into a smile, and the pain numbed just a bit as some tension released from his shoulders.

He inhaled sharply, letting the relief reach down passed the knot of panic and settle, assuringly.

This was just a minor set back.

Ok, a semi-major.

But he could still do this.

He could hear the ship’s artillery firing ever other second.

His lion was here, apparently, but he knew Red couldn’t just retrieve them from inside the ship. He had to meet her half way.

“I’m going to get you out of here Lance…” Keith promised, to both himself and his teammate.

He looked down at his thigh, trying to smother the rising nausea, as he assessed his wound. The serrated blade had done the expected amount of damage, the flesh a mess of ripped edges and oozing blood. Judging by the position of the blade and the amount of pain, it probably hit his femur, but the likelihood of the bone being fractured was low, so it must’ve just… scrapped it?

The thought of bits of shattered splinters of bone floating freely in his leg made his jaw clench.

His head spun all over again, and before he registered it, he began to list forward, his chest plate only centimeters from the hilt of the knife.

Through the disorienting pain, his plan changed.

He steeled himself and cracked his neck, trying to loosen the muscles as much as possible.

As he made for his first attempt, his spine practically vibrated in retaliation against the ache. The pointed edges on the bottom of his chest plate were going to be yet another set back in an already seemingly impossible plan.

He sat back up, noting how hard it was to even breath when he was doubled over like that, but he tried again.

And again, and again, and again.

Each time he bent over, a fresh gush of blood pursed out from around the blade as his muscles consticted. Each time he craned his neck far enough, his wrists pulled gradually more and more against Lance’s as Keith tried to get the hilt of the knife between his teeth.

The multiple attempts had his abdomen feeling hot where the pointed armor poked into his soft flesh, a pretty bruise no doubt blooming all along his belly. Each breath he managed to grasp while like that was wheezy and shallow.

Lance groaned as Keith began to get closer, but he didn’t falter.

“Just-“ Keith panted, as he sat up for another attempt, “Hold on a little longer.”

His shoulders were shaking, sweat dripped down the tip of his nose, and his fingers and toes were beginning to fall cold from the blood loss, but he kept trying.

It took maybe five agonizing minutes before Keith so much as grazed the hilt. And that little touch moved the blade enough to confirm that yep definitely on bone.

But he was so goddamn close.

Swallowing the sting in the back of this throat, he tried one last time.

He slowly lowered himself down, still shaking violently, but he actually managed to clasp his chattering jaw around the stone handle of the embedded blade. And before he had time to regret his decision, he flicked his neck up and yanked.

A crimson arch followed the knife as Keith tried his hardest to make a clean exit, splattering against that goddamn latched door and the floor in front of him. The dim lighting made his blood look black as it streaked down the wall.

Of course, the removal wasn’t clean in the slightest; he had hardly any control in the first place. But the way he was hunched over made the blade retract from his flesh sideways and jaggedly. And once the blade was out, the slow bubbling of blood turned into a full on gush, flowing easily down his leg, coating the unstained areas of the chair’s seat and spilling heavily into the metal floor.

Keith sat back up quickly, his breaths being pushed passed his clenched teeth. Even though his eyes were clenched shut, he could see fireworks of firing nerves explode in pastel colors behind his eyelids. In a way, there was relief, whenever his muscles would spasm, the blade wasn’t there to grind against the bone. However, he knew he just released the cork on a bottle, and it was only a matter of time before he bled out.

Using his good leg, he pushed himself as far to one side of the chair as he possible could and yanked his shaking hands in front of him. He caught sight of Lance’s wrists and the knot that bound them for the first time, and he was pleasantly surprised to see a type of rope he recognized.

He knew a knife would be able to rip it with enough determination.

After a few more stabilizing breaths, he waited for his vision to stop swimming before he deemed himself suitable for the catch. He jaw almost spasmed open, but he tightened every muscle against the tremors. Moving swiftly, he dropped the blade into his waiting palms, grasping it before it could bounce onto the floor.

His shaking has become more prevalent as he let his wrists go limp back behind him and he began to attempt to maneuver the blade.

His jaw was still tight, making his breaths tear through clenched teeth as he began to saw at their restraints, being mindful not to cut Lance if he could help it.

He focused on staying conscious, as the numb cold began to work up his legs and make his fingers fumble.

When the ropes finally gave way, and almost dropped the blade. Keith felt a surge of relief that immediately made him light headed. Or maybe that was the blood loss? Whatever. He fell forward, gasping, making quick work of his leg restraints and falling out of the chair entirely.

When his knee hit the ground, his vision went white. His throat stung as a ragged scream broke him, but he managed to clasp a hand over his mouth before it alerted anyone.

He dragged himself over to the door, climbing the lock until he was upright. With all of his strength, he pushed upwards, and the lock shuddered. He gripped the edge of the door and swung it open just a crack, slowly leaning into the hallway. The once bright hallway had been flushed out by blinking red emergency lights, bathing the walls with a bright crimson that made Keith’s vision vibrate.

But he didn’t see anyone. Not a single soul.

With the knife still grasped in his other hand (he didn’t know if he could let go if he wanted to) he limped back over to his stained chair. He used the back to leverage himself, swinging himself to be in front of Lance.

His face was pale and slack, a sheen of sweat on his brow that made the dried blood on his forehead look fresh around the edges.

When he cut his legs free, Lance immediately listed forward, but Keith pushed him back into the chair. Because he needed a second to think.

How the ever-loving quiznak was he going to carry a boy a head taller than him with a fucked up leg?

Welp, he didn’t have a second to spare.

He backed himself up against the chair, grabbing Lance’s arms and pulling them over his shoulders, the other boy’s chest armor clanking uncomfortably against his back. He felt his friend’s head settle against his.

Keith made to stand up, but only made it a few inches before he was back on the ground, pretty sure a vein popped in his neck.

He didn’t make it this far to fucking give up here.

He held his breath, holding both of Lance’s wrists against his chest with one hand and pushing off of the chair to finally get to a standing position. His bad leg shuddered at the slightest of pressure, so having to limp over to the wall was a challenge to say the least.

Using the wall, he guided himself over to the door, Lance’s legs dragging behind him.

Each breath Keith took made him taste iron, the sting of his raw throat being drowned out by the throbbing pain in his head and leg.

He leaned into the hallway, finding it once again lifeless and silent to his relief, the blinking red lights being the only things to greet him.

He felt a familiar hum in his mind, a motherly voice ushering him forward. Assuring him how close he was to safety. He trusted her.

She told him to move forward, so he did. Slowly, obviously, but he did.

He made it about half way down the hall before his knee buckled. He fell hard, and Lance bounced out of his grasp and fell also.

The clank of armor against metal echoed, and another scream tore itself out of Keith, but this time his reflexes weren’t fast enough to smother it.

Dimly, he heard footsteps running, then stopping only a few feet away from him.

He felt matted hand grip a handful of his hair, pulling him off the floor until he was dangling on his tippy toes. His hand went up to weakly swat at the grip, but he could barely make out what was even happening.

“Now how the hell did you manage to get out here?” The painfully familiar voice questioned to himself.

Keith whined, trying desperately to rip free of the General.

The knife felt heavy in his hand, eager to be used, but he barely could lift his arm up.

A blue light bloomed from behind him.

A hot blast of energy shot past him, grazing his side enough to scorch but not burn. With hawk-like accuracy he had come to count on in battle, the blast hit the General square in the chest, blazing a hole that tore through his armor and revealed the picture of gore.

Keith fell as he did, falling against the General’s chest as he was dragged down with him.

He scrambled, pushing against anything he could get in his grasp to get away from the body.

The smell was intense. A mix of burnt fur and singed flesh made the nausea that he’d been fighting finally win, as he leaned against the wall and threw up.

After grounding himself, he looked over to Lance. He must’ve propped himself up on his elbows to fire, because he was on his side now, his hands empty. How did he—

Hurry now

The voice in his head was all too loud now. His limbs were cold and tingly, and every movement he made sent shockwaves that made him want to vomit again.

But he crawled over to his teammate, grabbed his hand and with strength he didn’t know he had left, began to drag him.

Just a little farther

A trail of streaked blood followed behind him.

He’d get them home. They’d be safe.

Just open the airlock. I will catch you.

He didn’t even realize they didn’t have their helmets, not that there was anything he could do to fix that anyway.

I will catch you

Keith finally reached the end of the hall, greeted by a panel on the wall that he blindly pressed his stained hand onto.

The wall opened, the cold vacuum sucking both of their prone bodies through the door in seconds.

But the cold was only for a second.

The next time he opened his eyes, he saw the metal jaws of his Lion clasped protectively around him. And upon feeling Lance’s hand still in his, he decided he didn’t mind napping until they got back to the castle.

Notes:

Sorry this took a little to come out! Hope you enjoyed!

Stay tuned for more!

/Also gg if you got the multiple references from the movie The Heat/

Chapter 11: All Eyes on You (one-shot)

Summary:

tw: anxiety

Every ounce of Keith is telling him that he is in mortal danger, but they are just at a normal, boring peace treaty signing, right?

Notes:

PSA:::

I honestly hate this chapter so if you skip this one chapter (All Eyes on You) I will not be offended lol

Lance gave an exasperated sign from his seat, throwing an arm across his face as he slumped down.

“How long is this ceremony gonna be? Another all day affair?!” the Blue Paladin lamented, half yelling to the ceiling. Pidge punched Lance’s arm and the boy recoiled like he’d been shot.

Allura barley took mind to his volume, and simply turned to him, all the while not lifting her eyes from her data pad. She looked just as tired as Lance felt, but kept her usual cadence of model diplomacy.

“We must be courteous to this planet’s many, many traditions, Paladins. I know these last three days have been long ones, but once today’s festivities are concluded, we will ensure not only an entire peoples' alliance, but also distribute their weapons for equipping the rest of the coalition.”

She sounded rehearsed, like she had been telling herself the very same thing in her head for days.

Keith’s bounced his leg as he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest tightly. For once, Keith related completely to Lance’s protests.

Ever since they first visited the planets’ surface, he’d immediately noticed the stares. Every person they passed seemed to do a double take, locking eyes with him only to quickly look away then diligently watch him pass. He felt their eyes bare into all sides of him, seemingly sizing him up for a reason Keith didn’t want to think about.

He’d noticed on the second day how he was the only one the locals were watching. Instead of quickly breaking eye contact with them, like he was so used to, he’d linger and trace them, fighting every instinct in him in order to meet their probing sights.

He’d kept his chin high, gaze solid and posture open; but not a single one of them backed down, even as Keith put on a performance of bravado that he’d pat himself on the back for later.

Even their Council seemed to stare right through him, even while Allura talked business and their own people performed for them. He’d felt them, every other second, a tenseness that returned again and again that made his hair stand on end.

But today was the last day. After a few hours he’d never have to feel those gazes ever again. He didn’t notice when his leg started to bounce faster.

———

Standing in front of them, there and then, felt more wrong than any of the previous days. Today, their stares felt heated, like they would melt right through his armor and stab right into him. Whenever he caught one, his breath would hitch. The amount of emotion pouring through their millisecond of eye contact was staggering, and it made his knees shake as he fought the urge to just get the fuck out of there.

He felt like he’d walked right into a snare, his legs caught in place as the predator was closing in around him. His thumbs cracked as his hands tightened around them.

He turned to Allura as she spoke her piece to the Council, her words echoing in his head. They needed this alliance. They needed to give their helpless coalition members means to protect themselves if Voltron didn’t get there in time.

His chest was beginning to tighten as he began to frantically scan every face around him, finding every pair of eyes on nothing but him.

So he just averted his eyes, opting to abandon his facade to give into his instinct to look at his feet. When he found little relief from the anxiety, he decided to close his eyes to catch his breath. The panic rising in his chest only bubbled.

One, two, three, four

His heart beat against the inside of his ribs.

One, two, three, four

He heard Hunk, the one standing closest to him, shuffle as he stepped closer. He felt a light pressure on his back as Hunk steadied him.

He knew it was Hunk, but the way Keith jolted as he felt the pressure didn’t go unnoticed, as his hand retreated minutely before returning with determination.

The other boy said nothing, but seemed to read Keith’s mannerisms like an open book. The gentle pressure grounded him, gave him a tether to lean against while he attempted to gather himself.

His mind was all too clear, but his limbs were beginning to feel numb. This animalistic fight or flight instinct made the Councils’ booming voices bounce around his skull.

Keith couldn’t open his eyes just yet. He didn’t trust himself to not run if he saw another pair of eyes on him.

He was just being… irrational.

One, two, three, four

Just an ill-timed panic attack. He wasn’t in any actual danger.

They needed this. They needed this.

One, two, three, four

Pins and needles spread up his legs, making his knees shake. Hunk sensed it when Keith tensed up, and brought his other hand up to help him.

But Keith buckled too quickly, his knees crumpling beneath him despite how hard he willed them to steady.

Hunk gasped, hooking under his arms just in time to keep him from slamming onto the ground.

The Head of the Council froze mid-sentence, causing a silence that was only momentary for Keith as his friends all rushed next to him.

Their voices melded together, all muffled behind the voices in his head telling him to get the fuck out of there.

He didn’t think it was possible, but he felt even more vulnerable on the ground.

He scrambled to get his legs under him again, and Hunk once again seemingly read his mind and threw Keiths arm over his shoulder and hiked him up. Shiro was quickly under his other arm and soon Keith realized his legs wouldn’t obey him.

When Keith finally pried his eyes open, Allura’s diplomatic facade had shattered, replaced instead with pinched worry. She gently lifted his chin to get a good look at him.

“Are you alright Keith?”

Keith tried to form words, any words, to ease his teams’ minds, but his dry mouth only clenched tighter and tighter as his heart rate increased. Every sound echoed in his ears, making his brain vibrate against his skull.

“With me, Keith. Breath with me. In for four, out for four.” Shiro cooed, trying to keep his voice down.

I’ve been trying that Keith wished he could say

This just feels too wrong

Shiro and Allura nodded to each other, and the Princess stood back up, elegance fully returned.

“Our paladin has fallen ill suddenly. If it is agreeable with the Council, might we move this evening’s festivities back just a few varga?”

The muted murmurs of concern for Keith were cut off by a harmony of chairs screeching against the floor as every single council member stood up at once. The noise made Keith jump like he’d been hit.

Without missing a beat, the Head Council member painted on a face of worry, and the rest followed.

The member to the Head’s right leaned in close to her superior — half whispering, half yelling so he could still be heard by the paladins — “But the ceremony isn’t even half-way finished, sir!”

The Head smiled and locked eyes with Keith for one moment, and that moment alone would’ve made Keith sprint if Hunk hadn’t been holding him.

He felt so fucking small. Like any one of them would jump over their desks and rip his throat out before any of them could even move.

“Princess Allura, if it would please the Red Paladin and the rest of your team, we have doctors waiting on site just outside this hall. They can check your Red Paladin over, and he may rest if he wishes, until the ceremony has concluded.”

Allura looked at Keith again, and Keith knew his face read nothing but ‘get me out of here’, but he swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded at her.

Allura didn’t seem completely on board with the idea at all, but she knew how much rode on this alliance, just as Keith did.

They both were going against their gut.

Allura turned back to the Council, facade returning without a hint of cracks.

“That would be perfect.”

______________________________________

When two guards appeared to escort him to the back room, he really thought he’d feel better once he left that vast council room. The promise of even a few feet closer to an exit, a few feet closer to Red, comforted him immensely.

But of course, he was wrong, because he couldn’t catch a break today.

Instead, the two guards led him behind the council’s chairs, through a doorway that closed tightly behind him; farther and farther away from their waiting lions and his fellow paladins.

The first thing he noticed, with a sort of ‘of course’ feeling, were the very dim lights that ran down the low ceiling, blinking every few seconds but always returning to that same low dim. The hallway before him was much shorter than the one that lead into the Council room, and this one had a dozen doorways that punctuated the wall every few feet apart. Without moving his neck, he peered through each door’s small window, greeted with only eery darkness in each.

All except the one, at the very end of the hallway.

Again, Keith couldn’t help but think of course.

Keith suddenly deeply regretted letting Lance talk him into watching the Shining a few day ago.

But he could do this.

He just needed to calm down.

The guards walked in sync with each other, the stubborn repetitiveness of the their boots clacking on the floor making Keith’s ears ring.

But there was another noise. One that was getting louder the closer they stepped to the door.

A sort of buzzing, like something mechanical made to sound organic.

And now that Keith had noticed it, he couldn’t not hear it.

How had he not heard it before?

The sound made his knees shake and his heart was in his throat, choking him.

Because he couldn’t stand it.

Every hair stood on end, and his chest felt like it couldn’t expand.

He felt his feet get heavier and heavier, until he couldn’t move them. He slowed down until he finally stopped cold, sweat seeping at the edges of his bangs and down his neck.

Because the buzz was getting more intense, and his temples started to throb from how tense his every muscle was taught.

He wanted to question the guards, demand what the hell that noise was, but all his voice could do was die in his throat.

Two sets of rough hands latched onto his arms and began to pull onward.

He dug his heels into the ground, but hardly found any bite against the smooth metal.

So they dragged him.

They fucking dragged him.

And Keith realized with a sort of twisted sense of pride that his instincts may’ve not been lying to him.

Because when they got within mere feet of the door, Keith felt like his heart may burst.

Without so much as a step out of sync from the guards, the door whooshed open, revealing a small room. A small bed, a table and a sink, all revealed by the same dimmed lights in the hallway. But Keith choked, because in just a few milliseconds, Keith’s eyes frantically scanned every inch, quickly noticing the metal cuffs and restraints fastened to the bed.

He felt a new fire alight in him, a primal fight or flight that had finally decided to choose fight.

He flipped his legs up, bracing them on either side of the doorframe as the guards fought to push him into the room.

He kicked against the frame, flipping himself over backwards and ripping the two guard’s off of him, and breaking into a sprint. He just had to get to Shiro. He’d know what to do. Just had to get—

The buzzing intensified immensely and sharply, despite the distance he’d managed to make between him and the doorway.

Instead of the irritating buzz, the sheer volume made it warp into a shrill ringing, and wherever it was coming from sounded like it moved mere inches from Keith’s ears. It almost sounded almost like an angry swarm of metal bees.

His hands flew up to cover his ears, but they did nothing to dampen the noise. The noise wasn’t just around him, it felt louder than his own thoughts. And his skull felt like it was splintering under the growing pressure.

Mid-run, he fell forward, falling onto his knees as he clawed at his ears.

A pain not unlike one of his migraines — but multiplied by about one thousand — throbbed throughout his skull, making his hands tremble as he tried to get any relief from the endless droning tone.

He practically slammed his forehead into the ground, but he barely felt it. He collapsed onto his side, hands still clasped desperately over his ears, digging. He clenched his eyes shut, warm tears mixing with a cold sweat that traced down the bridge of his nose.

Warmth dripped from his ears, tracing the edges of his jaw like a ghost finger.

He felt his lungs constrict, and although he didn’t hear it, his throat burned as he screamed.

After ages, the guards walked calmly up next to him, Keith vaguely realized, just before a heap of his hair was yanked upwards, along with his view.

The dim light was suddenly too bright somehow, and his eyes burned as he flailed, but the guard stood firm as the other produced a massive piece of metal from under his robes.

Keith’s wet eyes blurred his vision, but even he could take a guess what the buckles dangling from the object were meant to do.

As the noise intensified again, his hands fell to his sides, useless.

It was a muzzle.

_______

 

Something had been bothering Shiro since peace talks had began. This planet had hardly any advanced tech at all, the most advanced being their ore mining devices. The ore could be used to make advanced weapons and machines, but they’d hardly seen any examples of the peoples making anything remotely offensive or even defensive.

So how had they managed to evade Galran rule?

Allura seemingly had been wondering the exact same thing, because when the conversation dipped into questions, she nonchalantly asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, how have you kept from being conquered by the Galra?”

There was a beat of silence, as the Council all seemed to speak to each other with just a few glances.

A Councilman stood and with a wave of a hand, a small screen blinked to life. It showed a diagram of the planet, and with one more hand wave, the diagram split in half, revealing the different layers that made it up.

“Our planet has a magnetic core, seen here, that which is in constant opposition with the layer around it. As the layers bump against each other, it emits a frequency. This particular frequency causes a feeling of dread and imminent danger in those with ears sensitive enough to even hear it. Our people, and as I’m sure is the same for you and your paladins, cannot hear this frequency no matter how close we get to the core. But the closer those effected get, the more permeant the damages become.”

Suddenly, Shiro’s throat goes dry, “Damages?”

“Oh yes, the frequency can be quite lethal if experienced for long enough, hence why we have made no effort to dampen it. It has made for an excellent Galra repeller for hundreds of deca-phoebs.”

The rest of the Council stood again, “There really is no reason for alarm, Princess. Unless, of course, there’s something you’d like to tell us about your Red Paladin.”

______

They strapped the thing to his face right there in that hallway. Apparently his little attempt to run made them want to speed up their plans of shackling him.

Keith wanted to scream, to do anything, but kneel there as the two sets of hands buckled the heavy accessory to his face.

The muzzle was no doubt made of the special ore in question, pulling at the bridge of his nose and already rubbing the sides of his jaw raw even from his minimal movements.

The buzzing had dulled to a stubborn clang, but no matter how he moved, it sounded as if it followed him. It echoed in his very mind.

His palms were on the ground in front of him, bracing himself as they finished up the buckles, but he was thankful for it. His reflexes were as high as ever, body still on edge and his senses intense.

So even though his hearing was failing him, he felt when something hit the ground harshly in the Councilroom.

Apparently it was a loud noise, because the guards roughly hauled Keith to his feet and began to drag him back to his room with a sort of desperate haste.

Even the small movement made Keith’s nose burn as the skin broke, the edges of the forsaken object becoming sleeked with blood quickly. Even then Keith couldn’t move. Not to mention the warmth had not ceased flowing down his jaw, sluggishly dripping down his neck and onto his white chestplate.

The blood mixed with the red on his chestplate.

It was almost pretty.

A shockwave of force pushed through the room, and Keith saw as the doorway burst open. Lance knelt down, rifle in hand, as Shiro began to run towards him, his arm cooling down by the second.

Two shots were fired, but Keith could barely hear them; just a dull pulse. He just closed his eyes as the bright blue bullets shot right passed him, into the backs of the guards, who immediately dropped him as they fell forward. Shiro caught him, somehow crossing the distance with inhuman speed, and gathered him into his arms.

He saw his brother’s mouth moving as he ran, no doubt forming words of assurance. Maybe even apologizing, but he didn’t need to. He didn’t need to.

Each step jostled the muzzle, but the pain was nothing compared to the ocean of throbbing pain coming from his ears as the low buzzing died out, replaced by a ringing that Keith had been all too familiar with on the battlefield. It reminded him of what it felt like when a bomb went off just a little too close.

Keith felt a surge of strength, felt himself suddenly being able to move his hands, which he quickly and mostly unknowingly, brought up to try to rip the muzzle off of himself, but the buckles held firm and he only succeeded in sending another jolt of hot pain throughout his face. Shiro said something else then, ‘try not to touch it’ if Keith could read lips as well as he thought. Easier said than done.

But luckily before he knew it, they were sprinting up Black’s ramp, climbing into her cockpit.

As he was placed on the bench in the back, he looked at his brother’s face again, and it didn’t comfort him when he only saw fear.

But when Shiro met his eyes, he pulled his lips into a tight smile.

‘Can you hear me?’ Shiro mouthed, soundlessly to Keith.

Keith shook his head, immediately regretting it as the metal once again dug deeper and Keith must’ve whimpered because Shiro’s face melted again.

But he steeled himself again. He did it for him.

‘Lets get that off of you’ Keith read.

Shiro’s hand warmed quickly, and he pulled Keith’s head forward gently. His fingers came in contact with the buckles and melted through them with relative ease, the smell of burnt leather and hair assaulting Keith’s still heightened senses.

And even though it most likely hadn’t been on him for longer than 15 minutes, when it fell into his lap, he couldn’t help the moan of relief that spilled from him. His trembling hands went up to trace the open gashes on the bridge of his nose, but Shiro caught his wrists.

‘Don’t touch. Lay down and I’ll wake you when we get back to the castle.’

Keith nodded, forcing his hands onto his lap. Shiro helped him lay down on his back, and only then did Keith begin to finally, finally calm down.

In the back of his mind, he worried about the coalition, about the ore and promise of a treaty, but for some reason, his thoughts were beginning to muddle.

The pressure that had been weighing down on him had fully gone, the buzzing had stopped, the muzzle was off, and he was with his brother.

His gut agreed with him; he couldn’t be more safe.

So when Shiro stood, Keith was asleep before Shiro even got to his pilot chair.

Notes:

Take your bets what these aliens are gonna do to Keef, winner gets a cookie.

Lots of angst to come >:)

Chapter 12: Aftermath (One-Shot)

Summary:

The immediate aftermath of Keith's return from the Trials of Marmora

Notes:

Could be platonic, could be klance, up to you!

Keith was surprised he was walking. Period.

He really thought every drop of his adrenaline was depleted after the trials, and if it wasn’t, definitely after he’d activated his blade for the first time.

But if he had to guess what kept him from collapsing right there in the docking bay, was the way Allura looked at him.

She looked… She looked almost queasy, like the very thought of the information being true would make her fully sick. But, Keith noted, so many other emotions flash across her face in the few moments after the words hung in the air.

And they hung there like until the air felt stale.

Keith decided he’d spare all of them the first word and just get back to his room.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he needed some time to process the news too, and watching Allura’s face switch from disgust, betrayal and denial was not helping anyone. Not to mention how Shiro was practically emanating nerves.

So yeah, he got the hell outta dodge.

When he left the docking bay, his body finally seemed to notice just how hard his shoulder was throbbing. How had he not felt that on the ride back? And his ribs felt… warm somehow? He ran his hand under his chest plate, bodily wincing as the tips of his fingers grazed the hot skin on his shoulder, making his stomach roll.

He picked up his pace, deciding he needed to get a better look at just how hurt he actually was.

By the time he got to his door, he damn near fell into his room. Those few minutes were all the time his body needed to fully flush all of his adrenaline apparently. His shoulder felt like it was on fire now, the molten pain reaching its tendrils down his arm and up his neck, making them ache with the beat of his heart. And his legs shook, seemingly because they were the epicenter of all his exhaustion; the aching was pooling in his knees, pins and needles rising up his ankles.

He almost tripped over his own feet but managed to get over to his bed, falling heavily on the firm mattress. His feet screamed with relief and he groaned as he fought himself not to just go to sleep in his armor. But he’d tried that before and it did more harm than good.

So he got to work taking his armor off piece by piece like he’d done countless times, only the fact he most likely had a few cracked ribs was making it just a little difficult. His arm padding came off without much protests, along with his thigh pads, but the rest of the set would be a different story.

When he finally got to his calf pads, he couldn’t help but whimper as he bent over, his chest plate digging against his bruised ribs and his shoulder still throbbing stubbornly.

But, he froze when he heard footsteps stop just outside his door.

Because both unfortunately and fortunately, Keith had completely forgotten to close his door.

And Lance stood with his hand on the doorframe, looking gently just around the corner and at his friend.

“Hey man, uh…” Lance began, a mix of emotions creasing his usually flawless face.

Keith gingerly unbent himself like somehow if he moved slow enough he wouldn’t be seen, the pointy edges of the armor taking its sweet time un-stabbing into his chest, making him release another groan. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, heat rising to his cheeks.

Lance seemed like the noise legitimately scared him, because he quickly took a step into the room, catching himself when he seemingly remembered the circumstances.

“Are you—are you okay?” Lance finally asked, more gently than Keith had ever heard Lance speak.

Keith kept his eyes on the floor, favoring looking at Lance’s feet rather than look at his face. He didn’t fully know if Lance was referring to the pained noises he’d just made or, yaknow, finding out the enemy’s blood was coursing through his veins. But Keith still didn’t look. He didn’t need pity, or apologies, or assurances, or anything besides being alone right now.

And getting his quiznaking armor off.

“Lance, I really just want to be alone right now.” Keith said, his own voice betraying him by rising a pitch at the end.

Lance wavered, almost like he wanted to make a jab at him but he fought himself again. His mouth opened, his no words came out, probably not finding words that he found appropriate just yet. Keith however, was getting more and more exhausted, and couldn’t bring himself to tell Lance to just leave, so he just got back to the task at hand with Lance buffered.

Keith continued to try to take his armor off, favoring attempting to unlatch his chest plate rather than unbuckle his calf pads in hopes of that being easier. But, to his embarrassment, he could barely twist his chest enough to get his arms under thing. He struggled silently for a few agonizing seconds, before more steps made him freeze once again.
When Keith looked back, Lance had closed the distance between them, so close Keith couldn’t help but flinch. He didn’t know exactly what Lance was planning, and maybe—maybe he wanted to kick him while he was down. After all, he was technically the enemy…

Lance somehow softened even more when he noticed how Keith jolted.

“Sorry, sorry,” He peppered, “I just thought I could…”

Keith must’ve looked like a deer in the headlights because Lance sighed and looked…sad?

“I just want to help.”

And to Keith’s dismay, Lance shuffled in front of his legs, kneeling down and gently taking his leg up slightly to get at the latches.

“Remember when I got knocked out by that explosion on Howem? I cracked two ribs on this side,” Lance taped on the left side of his armor, his voice still soft, like he was worried he’d startle Keith off if he was too loud, “Even after the pod they still hurt like a bitch for, like, a week after.”

Keith was flabbergast, watching the Blue Paladin work at his armor and talk like todays events hadn’t just uprooted everything. Lance just continued.

“I couldn’t even take deep breaths. Hunk had to help me take off my armor for three days.”

Lance said, as he finally got the first leg pad off. He placed it gingerly on the floor by the bed, moving onto Keith’s shoe. For the first time since he’d started, Lance locked eyes with Keith. Keith swallowed passed his bubbling nerves, heat rising to his ears.

“You may wanna, like, hold onto something so I can take this off.”

Keith did as he was told, grabbing the bed frame just as Lance started to tug. Keith grimaced, biting his tongue as hot pain jolted up his spine, but it was over as quickly as it started.

Keith suddenly noticed how his brow had started to sweat, but the relief he felt as soon as the cold air could hit his fresh bruises was sobering.

Lance didn’t look back up before he shuffled to Keith’s other leg, making quick work of his other calf pad and swiftly slipping off his other shoe as well.

Keith’s throat was tight, he still didn’t fully allow himself to let his guard down.

“Thanks.” Keith managed, averting his eyes still.

Lance discarded them right next to the bed, flinching when he spotted a few fresh, yellow-edged bruising peeking out from under his flightsuit.

He stood, looking questioningly at Keith, his hands gesturing to him.

“Do you, uh, need help with that one too?”

Keith wanted to say no, he really really did, but the thought of trying to take the damn thing off himself again made him cringe.

He nodded.

Lance spared them both any more awkwardness and just got to work.

Keith raised his arms up as high as he could, but his attempt was pitiful. Lance still reached around Keith, grabbing the edges of the chest plate and began to lift it. The arm holes obviously forced his arms up higher as they were laced through it, and Keith held his breath to keep from yelping.

Keith’s shoulder began to warm, twinges of pain making his right arm twitch and stutter. As soon as the armor was lifted above his elbows, he ducked himself out, wrapping his other hard around the wound in desperation to stop the pulsing agony. He listed forward, fiercely wanting to curl around himself in any way but being completely unable to.

Only then did he let himself breath, harsh gasps ripping their way in and out, in and out.

Lance looked down at him, his eyes locking on the red spreading down his chest from his shoulder.

“Look, buddy, you need a pod and —

“No.” Keith rasped.

Lance’s softness melted ever so slightly and his face turned stern.

“What—What do you mean?! You’re obviously in a shit ton of pain! And you have an open wound!”

Keith did flinch again, this time at the volume, even after all Lance had done and said.

“I can’t.”

“I can easily help you get there, dude.”
“I won’t, then. How about that?”

“Keith we’ve talked about this whole ‘suffer in silence’ thing and I thought we agreed—”

Keith’s adams apple bobbed as he tried to swallow what he said next.

“How can you be talking to me right now?”

Lance looked legitimately taken aback.

“What?”

“How can you be acting like nothing just happened?! Helping me out and trying to—to get me to a pod!”

“Keith—”

Keith looked down, only pausing to catch his breath.

“How can you act like—like I didn’t just fucking ruin Voltron.”

Lance threw his hand down on the bed, fully making Keith jump and scoot away from him in one fell swoop.

Suddenly, there was anger between them, a sort of time bomb that just plopped in Keith’s lap and he could watch it count down. But Lance didn’t raise his voice to match the degree of emotion on his face.

“Keith, do you actually think you ruined Voltron? Just by being born?”

For some reason, Keith felt his eyes water.

“You think this, uh, news, makes you a villain all of the sudden?”

Keith couldn’t stop himself now.

“Allura sure looked like it did.”

Lance faltered.

“We both know what the Galra did to her and her people, man. So I guess she needs a little…time. She just needs time to differentiate you from those actions, I think. None of us are tying you to what they did or whatever they do next, though. None of that is or ever will be your fault.”

Keith wiped his eyes before they could overflow down his cheeks.

“We were just starting to become a real team.” He said just barely over a whisper.

Lance stared, once again at a loss for words. He almost laughed, like there was an obvious thing to say next.

“Dude, we’re still a team no matter who your dad decided to love.”

A tear managed past his hands, tracing through the grime left on his cheek, and a broken sob made his ribs scream in protest as it pushed itself out.

Lance knelt back down, making Keith meet his eyes.

“You're still the you that you were yesterday, man.”

Keith couldn't speak, simply because he didn’t know what to say.

What words could capture just how much he needed to hear those exact words.

Lance stood back up as his mouth pulled up into a genuine smile, and he breathed out a chuckle, “Well, if you’re not gonna get in a pod, I’ll let you get some sleep. And I'll come check on you in a few hours - I uh - if thats okay?”

There was a beat of silence, as Keith struggled to find words.

He never did have a way with words, and right now he was feeling exhausted in more ways than he knew he could.

So he offered a grateful smile, as he finally settled on,

“Thank you, Lance.”

Notes:

I kinda was considering posting this on its own.... but decided to just post it here!

If you're feeling up to it, leave a comment telling me what you thought! Or what I should do next!

Chapter 13: Carry On (One-Shot)

Summary:

Pidge is tiny but quiznaking MIGHTY

Notes:

I WROTE THIS IN ONE DAY SO SORRY IF IT SUCKS

Paladin training had prepared her for a multitude of the situations that space war had to throw at her;

How to concentrate when entire planets depended on her next action.
How to hack into computer systems she barley understood the language they were in.
How to fly a quiznaking mythical space lion.

But it wasn’t like she’d gone to space a helpless damsel. She’d earned her place at the Garrison just like her friends, through hard work and only a little bit of file editing. And Lord knew being a cadet at the Garrison wasn’t easy. The pilot training took dozens of hours out of her week, and the survival and field-training filled up the remaining time. She knew how to take care of herself and her potential team, but she figured out quickly that she needed to adapt.

She knew her size would be seen as a weakness, so she worked herself even harder. She stayed after training, asked for extra drills and read countless sources on fighting styles that would benefit a smaller opponent.

She may've been small, but she made damn sure she could pull her own weight, and then some.
______________

The sky was blackened by smoke, relentlessly wafting upwards to block what little light managed to hit the planets surface, but the Paladins were using it as their advantage. She could hear Hunk and Lance flying above her, their lions blasting the advancing Galran tanks before they managed to even see their front line. The ruined tanks’ ash only added to the diminishing visibility around her, but she could still see her teammates. Shiro was just a few hundred feet from of her, running down the few soldiers that were brave (or stupid) enough to charge blindly through the wall of black clouds. Keith was closer to her, and they silently acted together as the second line of defense, and backup, behind Shiro.

The black clouds from the burning buildings stretched unnaturally thick across the battlefield, obscuring her vision more or less depending on the way the wind blew, but she didn’t necessarily need to see. She whipped her bayard through the smoke, downing countless enemies who thought they were safely hidden. And every time her bayard cut through the smog, Keith would advance, taking advantage of the new visibility and then returning to her side before another gust blinded him.

She wound up, preparing another strong flick of her bayard, when a blast tore itself through the fog, searing a gapping hole through the thick curtains both blinding and shielding them. She felt the blast before she saw it, the earth shuddering and the air around her sharpening. Even though the blast grounded a good few feet away from her, Pidge was almost knocked off her feet.

How had a tank made it past the lions?!

She staggered, pulling her arms in front of her face protectively, her vision going white as the beam blinded her. She felt the ground shake as another blast was fired, and she made to duck down, just as a heavy object collided into her.

She fell hard on her back, the object falling on top of her and knocking the wind from her lungs. Panic gripped her as she gasped for breath, frantically pushing the object off of her and opting to crab-walk away from it until her vision fully returned. She panted as she managed to get into a somewhat protective kneeling stance in record time, gripping her bayard and holding her free hand out cautiously.

She heard a lion soar above her, blasting the tank that had somehow made it close enough to their lines, but she didn’t drop her guard. She blinked wildly, but as soon as she could see clearly enough, her breath left her all over again.

Just through the thick fog, she could make out an all too familiar head of black hair spilling from a white helmet. On the charred ground, cautiously moving.

“Keith!”

She numbly ran over to him, dropping back to her knees. The blast had grazed him, evidence enough by him being in one piece, but it still did a staggering amount of damage. His undersuit completely incinerated and his armor melted and misshaped, his raw and bubbling skin exposed to the filthy air. Her hands hovered above him, shakily, as her heart began to deafen her. His legs were slowly kicking out and curling in, the discomfort and pain pulsing through him with every breath he took. He kept trying to push himself up, muttering something under his breath.

“Keith don’t move! I’m-,” Her mouth was so dry, “I’m gonna get Shiro! He’ll come and…”

She whipped her head around, but the clouds had closed in, obscuring her vision of Shiro and even the sky above her. The rolling puffs of smoke just kept coming

She flicked on her comms, her own voice not reaching her ears, “Shiro! Keith needs an evac! Where-“

She kept searching, willing the smoke to clear even just a little so she could get her bearings, but it stubbornly only got darker around them. Keith’s fists were clenching so hard he heard his knuckles crack.

Her breaths began to come faster, darkening her vision further as she tried to think through a fog of panic.

She felt a tug on her leg, her mind halting in its tracks as she looked down. Keith’s half-lidded eyes found hers quickly, and as soon as he knew she was watching him, he took a deep breath, held it and shakily released it.

She heard a small voice through the blood rushing through her ears.

“Breath.”

Pidge was taken aback.

Even though he was injured, even though he could barely move.

He still managed to act like her older brother.

She took a few steadying breaths, in tandem with Keith, until she could finally think again.

With a clear head, her Garrison training kicked in immediately.

“This is gonna hurt, but only for a second okay?"

Keith’s eyes found hers again and he quickly nodded.

As quickly and as gently as possible, she pushed him onto his back, and felt her heart clench at the sound of his pained gasp. But she didn't falter, wasting no time by quickly bending his knees and planting her feet on top of his. She bent over him, gripping his wrists as hard as she could. She knew she only had one shot at this, so she had to make it count. She took a deep breath and pulled him up with everything she had, quickly turning so his body slammed into her back as she squatted down. A ragged breath fell from him, his unfocused eyes blown wide but he managed to not fight her. Despite his worryingly passive response, Pidge still stumbled, almost dropping him back onto the ground, as she stood from her squat, but her knees locked, and she stood firm. Sweat gathered on her forehead quickly, plastering her bangs to her face. Her legs shook, sure, but she locked her grip on his legs and hiked him the rest of the way up her back.

Her jaw tightened uncomfortably under the strain, and the rumble in her head intensified as she took her first step. If Keith wasn’t right next to her ear, she may’ve missed the small whimpers that escaped him whenever she took a wrong step.

So as she struggled, stumbling in the direction the lions were flying, she noted that she had learned something new.

Keith was only a little heavier than he looked.

Chapter 14: Rainy Days (One-shot)

Summary:

A dramatic drop in barometric pressure is hell for people with scar tissue...

Notes:

A small gift for a very nice commenter, Bob_the_Bastard, who just like me loves some brogane angst

 

tw: vomiting, chronic pain

Keith would never admit that the heavy drop that hit his visor made him jump.

It was cloudy, sure, but Pidge had assured them that the weather would hold long enough for Shiro to pick up Keith from this gray planet.

So yeah, the drop made him jump.

He halted, mid step, and looked up at the swirling sky, just as another drop collided with his visor. He watched it trace down the tinted screen, just before he felt the first pulse.

He staggered, and for a second he thought he’d been stabbed. But when he whipped around, bayard in right hand and left clasped on his shoulder, he was just as alone as he’d thought.

Even through his helmet, he could smell the rain incoming.

He clicked on his comms, “Pidge, I thought you said I’d have clear skies for the next few hours?"

Keith mindlessly ran his hand over his shoulder, but the little amount of pressure he managed to apply through his armor did almost nothing to ease the steady cadance of aches.

“Yeah I though so too,” Shiro offered, more confused than anything, “These clouds are messing with my sensors, I can’t lock onto Keith’s location with that storm rolling in."

“Hey don’t go blaming me! It seems like there was a dramatic drop in the barometric pressure, some serious rain just, like, appeared right on top of you, Keith.”

Keith’s skin began to tingle, on the back of his neck and on top of his skull. He was having trouble finding words.

“So evac is delayed?” Keith finally asked.

He heard Pidge typing away on her console in the castle, then she groaned.

“Yeah. Just for an hour at most until this thing blows over. There’s gotta be some shelter somewhere on that chunk of rock, hunker down there until Shiro has clearance to come get you.”

Keith numbly nodded and turned in a circle, surveying his surroundings. A small cave opening sat just below a bushel of trees and he practically sprinted over to it. He only had to hunch a little to get in the cave, but darkness that greeted him made guiding himself along the wall necessary. After a particularly brutal throb, he felt his knees wobble underneath him and he fell into a crisscross, gracelessly.

He had some hope that getting out of the rain would stop the persistent pain making his muscles spasm under his hand, but he knew it was unlikely. He’d just have to work the knot out himself.

He tried to roll his shoulder, only for a jolt of hot agony to catch his breath in his throat. A new wave of intense pulses resounded through his entire right side and he was beyond thankful he muted his comms, because he didn’t trust himself not to scream if the pain got any worse. His heavy breaths made quick work of completely fogging up his vision.

He tugged off his helmet, after a considerable effort, and leaned against the cold rock, drinking up the chill that momentarily distracted him from the pain. He felt his breaths still coming a little faster than he would’ve liked. He closed his eyes, intent on using sheer will power to make himself calm down. A sore muscle is nothing to panic about.

He heard a click over his comms, as the channel changed.

“Gone a little quiet, huh bud?”

Shiro must’ve put them on a private channel. He’d hardly ever call him that in front of the others. He pulled the helmet into his lap and unmuted the mic.

“Just uh…” Keith cleared his dry throat, “Listening to the rain.”

Shiro hummed as Keith looked out the mouth of the cave. The sheets of rain were only getting heavier and heavier by the minute, and while the cold on his back was comforting, the heat spreading across his chest was not. He felt a cold sweat gathering down his back.

A rumble of thunder resounded above him, making the cave shake ever so slightly, but it absolutely floored Keith. A fresh pang had ran up his side, almost making him bite his tongue in half as he bit back a yelp. His hand involuntarily slapped back up to his shoulder, slipping underneath his collar in a desperate attempt to dull the ache.

His fingertips pushed against the warm, tense muscle, and his stomach rolled. He barley got himself hunched onto his knees before he retched.

“Keith?”

He could feel the heat radiating off his shoulder on his cheek as he dry heaved again, spit dripping thickly from his chin. His eyes burned with hot tears.

“Keith what’s wrong?” Shiro’s voice was calm, but the way his words shook at the end told him he was already worried. God damnit, he hated making Shiro worry.

Keith rubbed his free hand against his mouth, noting how much it was shaking.

“”s nothing,” Keith mumbled, “just a little… achy.”

“Achy?”

Keith slid down the wall, favoring laying in a sort of half-assed fetal position than upright. The cold ground felt nice on his temple anyway, and he wasn't confident he wouldn’t fall over. His neck spasmed as he tried to make himself comfortable, making him bit hard into his lip.

“Keith, what do you mean achy? What’s achy?”

How could he gently say he felt like his muscles were ripping themselves apart? His jaw was clenched so tightly his vision blurred, or maybe that was from the tears.

“Shoulder. Right.” he bit out.

Shiro was quiet for a second, but Keith could practically hear his gears turning.

“Your injury from the trials? It’s had more than enough time to he—“

Thats because it was healed. Well, as much as it could be.

“Keith, it's because your torn muscles and severed nerve endings are contracting, like what happens to my stump.”

Keith felt a wave of nausea, but he managed to keep from heaving this time. He swallowed, hard.

“I know this is gonna suck, but you need to keep moving it. If you don’t, it’ll only hurt more.”

“’s fine.” Keith grumbled, his body had begun to shake, the cold from the ground starting to become uncomfortable.

“No— no Keith. You have to move it, just a little if you can. Any little bit will help.”

Keith unclasped his hand and a full body shiver made his muscles contract violently, he couldn’t help the way he choked on his breath. The throbbing had only worsened, and he could feel his pulse in his finger tips.

“Shiro.” His voice was just above a rasp.

“I know—I know it hurts, bud, but trust me. It’ll feel better in a little. This happens to me all the time.”

He begrudgingly pushed himself back up the wall and by the time he was fully upright he was panting. He held his breath and gathered his nerve, before lifting his right arm up over his head.

His legs kicked out, heels digging into the rock and slamming his head back into the wall. But he barley felt his scalp split, only the blazing, bone-deep ache, consuming his every sense. His vision whitened, and he felt his throat burn as a ragged scream climbed out from deep inside his chest.

But when he brought his arm back down again, the pain has lessened, if even just marginally.

“Good, good, you’re doing great Keith. Just keep rolling your shoulder, it’ll get easier the more you do it.”

Keith brought his arm back up again, and hated the way his chest tightened and legs stiffened, but at least he’d swallowed his scream.

“Just keep moving it, even just a little. It’ll keep the ache down.”

Keith forcibly humphed. He kept his eyes screwed shut and just focused on lifting and dropping his arm.

Another click over the comms made Keith flinch.

“Pidge I’m going down there, Keith needs that evac.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Pidge asked, anxiety already thick in her voice.

“No.” Keith spat. Another shiver tore through him and a few hot tears blinked from his eyes.

“Keith, it’s okay. Once I get under the clouds I should get my sensors back onl—“

“No. It’ll hurt you.” He rasped.

If his flesh wound hurt as much as this, he could only image what an amputation would feel like under this pressure. No, no, no. Shiro needed to stay out of this planet’s atmosphere until it passed. Keith wouldn't be the cause of such agony just because he couldn’t take a little sore muscle.

“Keith I—" Shiro started, but Pidge was already typing.

“The storm will clear enough for evac in under half a varga. Think you can hang on until then?”

Keith’s Adam's apple bobbed as swallowed down the taste of sick.

“Yeah-yes." Keith said a little too quickly, "But-promise me you won't come until it’s fully cleared, Shiro.”

Silence held for a beat, and he could feel Shiro’s hesitation.

“Fine. But you promise me you'll tell me if it gets unbearable.”

Keith felt his lips tug up.

“Promise.” He managed, with a dry chuckle.

Notes:

I've been rewatching fullmetal alchemist brotherhood (my favorite show of all time) and watched the ep where Ed's stumps get really painful when it rains. Whump drabble ensued.

Chapter 15: Lazy River (One-shot)

Summary:

Keith is a self-proclaimed expert in migraines, but a particularly bad one has him in need of some rescuing.

Notes:

This is rough, but its been way too long since I've posted something, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Tags for this one-shot:
broganes, sickfic, migraines, very light blood (I'm sure there's medical inaccuracies but I tried my best)

Keith had woken up with headaches more times than he hadn’t ever since he could remember. It had gotten to the point that if he didn’t feel some twinge of pain in the back of his skull when he woke up, he would worry himself into a headache. He was a connoisseur of sorts, a surveyor of migraines, the pain migrating to different areas of his head based on how much the universe wanted to spite him. 

If he’d been ‘good', it was only a dull pain just above the crown of his skull and down his upper spine, barley noticeable but still bothersome enough to make him dim his lights. Even chugging some cold water would dampen it enough for him to forget about it for hours at a time. 

On the worst days, when the universe was being especially rude, the ache would pulse behind his eyes. It was a skull deep ache, pulsing and yanking on his nerves whenever he heard the slightest noise or he turned too quickly. These days were hell in his shack, alone with nothing but the literal blinding pain to keep him bedridden for days. But damn, did those hours in that excruciating daze feel like a cake walk now.

Because now the universe had not only fucked him over, but now he was a protector of the damn thing. Which meant now there were no sick days, no time to recover and no time to spare. 

But of course that meant the universe would only be out to get him even more.
__

He’d woken up with needles stuck in his eye sockets. Nothing particularly unexpected, as his body would pull every trick in the book to keep him in bed. Thick sleep would normally cling to his cheek bones, grasping for an extra hour, minute or even a second of shut eye, but very sadly once Keith was awake, he was awake for the day. 

But when he sat up, he felt the first wave of unfamiliar pain. His brain felt like it knocked into his face by a merciless punch, specifically by a metal bat or maybe a set of brass knuckles. He squeezed his eyes shut, mostly involuntarily, and held back a hoarse groan. Because suddenly even the dimmed blue lights of his room were too bright, and the low hum of the air system was all too loud. And god, he felt hot. His hand rose to his face, cold fingers almost shaking as he tried to shield his eyes. He lugged himself up on unsteady legs, momentum sending stars exploding behind his eyes, and slid along the wall to his bathroom, eyes clasped shut all the while. He vaguely wondered what time it was.

He clung to the sink as he fiddled to find the faucet, clammy hands suctioning up the coolness of the metallic surface with a vengeance. The cool water was so relieving his knees practically gave out from under him. He slapped the water onto his face, feeling his unruly hair lick at his cheeks and neck  as he finally pried his eyes open to look at himself in the mirror. 

He regretted it immediately.

Despite his at least five hours of sleep (nonconsecutive sure, but a good night, considering his average numbers) his eyes were sunken into his skull, and his skin had a ghostly pallor to it, highly contrasting to the pink flush on his cheeks. 

He cringed at the sight, but also at the jolt of pain that the incessant bathroom lights sent vibrating through his skull. If he wasn’t already holding onto the sink, he may've swayed on his feet. Scratch that he definitely swayed, because he felt gravity tug at his wrists as he listed to the right, but his fingers gripped the basin with all their might and kept him to head-butting in the metal wall. 

But the water was still running, the white noise rising in tone and pitch by the second. Keith ripped his grasp off of the sink to shut the godforsaken thing off, but the world was still breathing underneath him. As the water rose in the basin, his remaining support slipped, sending his chin slamming into the metal lip. He felt his teeth graze his tongue as his jaw was forced closed, and his arm bent underneath him as his reflexes made to catch himself. 

His vision had long since gone black, pink and green fireworks dancing behind his eyelids as pain stole his breath away. His ears were ringing by the time he registered he was horizontal, but even through the monotonous tone, he heard the water start to drop heavily onto the floor. 
__

Shiro hadn’t planned on getting up early. But yaknow, nightmares are known to do that. And sitting in his bed with adrenaline pumping through his veins didn’t particularly appeal to him. 

He wasn’t due on the main deck for another two and a half hours, so why not make like his brother and hit the training deck? Maybe Keith would even be there himself, and they could spar until they were hungry enough to hit the kitchen. He grabbed a water bottle and a towel, and made his way down the hallway as quiet as physically possible. He knew Lance would be practically unconsolable if he was deprived of his ‘beauty sleep’ after all. 

For some reason, something felt off. He couldn’t place it, but a rock had settled in his stomach and decided it would make a home there. He chalked it up to the nightmare, but in reality the feeling only grew the farther he got from his room. 

He was three rooms away from the training deck when he first noticed the water. Just a thin line, broken up in some places, right down the center of the hallway and leading down an all too familiar corridor. 

The rock in his stomach did a somersault. 

Following it, he picked up speed, entirely abandoning his efforts to be quiet and deeply wishing his gut was wrong. He slid to a stop in front of the culprit, a doorframe gushing with the warm liquid from under the slider. He didn’t have to look at the keypad to know who’s room it was. 

He didn’t even knock. 

“Keith?” Shiro chirped, a silent prayer in his tone.

When the door slipped open, a small wave flooded into the hallway, soaking Shiro’s sneakers even more than the trek there. Though truthfully, the older didn’t notice. He scanned the darkened bed for his brother, but his eyes quickly fell on the set of pale legs peaking out from the bathroom door. The sound of sheet after sheet of water hitting the metal floor might as well been screaming at him to move. 

“Keith!”

Shiro slushed through the shallow water, practically leaping through the bathroom door and down to Keith’s side. 

Thank Christ he landed on his side, because even the shallow water could’ve drowned him. A thin halo of pink water swirled in front of Keith, to which Shiro quickly found was because of a split chin. The seemingly superficial cut leaked persistently due to its inability to clot in the warm water, but besides that, Shiro saw no evidence of any other wounds, but he needed to be sure. Shiro gently lifted his brother’s head out of the water, expecting Keith to be out cold, but was surprised when his brothers eyes slitted open, only to immediately clench shut again. Keith's shaking hands cupped around his eyes, trying desperately to stop the knives digging into his eye sockets. His shoulders started shaking more visibly now. 

“‘kashi…?” his heavy tongue somehow formed. 

Shiros chest seized. He had to swallow before he trusted himself to speak. 

“Keith, bud, hey… you feeling okay?”

What a stupid question Shirogane, of course he isn’t feeling well. But his mind was moving all too fast. 

“Can-Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Shiro kept his voice low, noting the wince 

“...head.” Keith vaguely patted at his temple, only to wince bodily and choke on an inhale. 

How long had he been laying there? Did a migraine cause him to pass out? Exhaustion maybe? They had been working overtime these past few days. Did he hit his head hard enough to be concussed? If it's been hours, does he already have brain or eye damage? God, did he bite his tongue or fracture his jaw?

One thing at a time, Shirogane, one thing at a time.

Shiro rose and turned off the faucet, and a quiet calmness washed over the scene as he steadied Keith onto his lap, the only sound being the gently sloshing of the now stagnant water that covered the floor. Cold dripped from black , tangled hair and soaked Shiro's shorts, but Shiro just watched Keith’s face. And despite Keith’s hands clasped over his eyes, Shiro could still see how his forehead was creased with discomfort and pain. Shiro placed gentle hands on Keith’s wrists and put the smallest amount of pressure on them, but even that displaced Keith’s shaking limbs. 

“Keith I need you to open your eyes for me, okay? Just for a second.”

Keith whimpered, a pitiful noise from shallow in his throat that Shiro never ever wanted to hear again. But he needed to be sure.

“I just need to make sure you aren’t concussed, then I can put you back in your bed. Yeah? I’ll even turn off the bathroom light. Maybe even get you out of the water and into some dry clothes, even.”

Keith’s breaths were shallow and quick, and it was obvious he was trying to conceal just how much agony was pulsing though his skull. But Shiro knew him well enough not to ask again, he knew he was strong enough. 

Keith’s jaw trembled as his cupped hands fell away from his eyes. Without their protection, his eyes clenched even tighter. 

“That’s it, bud. You’re doing great. I promise it'll be quick. Then bed.” 

It took a few moments before Keith worked up the nerve to actually open them, but Shiro was patient. In the moment Keith actually pried his eyes open, Shiro lunged. The knowledge that he was doing what needed to be done didn’t dampen the punch in the gut he swiftly received upon hearing the sharp gasp of air Keith sucked in. He used his flesh hand to gently pull open his eye, and then the other, and even though Shiro had positioned himself to shield Keith from the ceiling light, the younger still writhed under the light strain and let out a hiss through clenched teeth. 

Again, relief flooded over him as he saw is pupils reacted normally to light and weren’t dilated. As soon as Shiro let go of Keith’s face, his eyes shut just as tight, if not tighter, before his hands returned to mask them. 

“All done bud. I’m going to help you up now, kay? Think you can stand?” 

Keith’s throat bobbed again, but he gave a jerky nod. 

When Shiro laced his arm underneath his neck, Keith couldn’t help but tense. Ever the slight shift of his spine sent a bolt of pain though his skull and face, causing his eyes to twitch even under his hands. Now fully upright for the first time in God knows how long, Keith felt all the pain melt downwards, grasping at his shoulder blades and making him hunch forward. Shiro steadied him, and with some gentle maneuvering, tenderly hoisted him up his his armpits. Keith’s legs were shaking even before he put any weight on them, but again, Shiro held firm. As promised, Shiro flipped the lights off as they trudged by, and felt Keith relax into him with relief. The ajar door was his only light now, but he guided Keith over to his bed and sat him down. Even in the dim light, he saw how much water bloomed from the damp fabric onto the mattress.

“Okay bud, did you want that change of boxers?”

Keith was sagging heavily into the bed, the darkness soothing his head enough he was already half asleep in seemed, but he nodded again. With Shiro’s help, he stood back up and dropped his sopping boxers onto the floor with a heavy slap, and stepped into the ones his brother had already laid on the bed with minimal assistance. Shiro sat him back down, using his towel to dry his skin and hair, before helping him lay down.

In the back of Keith's mind, the deep deep recesses untouched by the pulsing pain, embarrassment bloomed like infectious weeds, but Shiro doubted he would even remember this entire exchange when he came out the other side. Keiths eyes were closed before he even hit the pillow after all.

Suddenly it was like Keith was a tween again, napping in his office after outrunning Iverson yet again, and Shiro couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll be back with pain meds and a bandaid. And maybe a mop... Don’t go anywhere."

Notes:

TMI but I get really debilitating periods that cause me to pass out among other totally awesome things and my sister has had to peel me off the bathroom floor and into my bed quite a few times...

Chapter 16: Familiar (One-shot)

Summary:

Crash landings are never comfy.

Notes:

No beta as usual - but hey, this is officially longer than my history final and I don't have the patience to read it through.

Hunk had dreaded the fall season his entire childhood for two reasons, back to school (obviously) and hunting season. He didn’t full understand where his repulsion to the idea first originated, it wasn’t like they were inhumane and they made sure to use every single part of the animal, but the repulsion was there, to his Dad’s frustration. 

His dad had taken him out hunting precisely once, despite both his and his mother’s hesitation. His luck had been horrible this season, and he didn’t want to disappoint his dad, so Hunk agreed. He was excited even, because in his mind it was just an excuse to watch a sunrise with his dad. He’d miss those days the most at the Garrison and... beyond…

Of course the forest was more alive than ever on that morning, and they’d found the trail of a sizable buck, something his dad marveled at every few minutes and called Hunk his lucky charm. The thought of coming out here to accompany him again, though, was literally the last thing Hunk wanted. A thin frost had settled on the ground and the once muddied ground crunched under even his lightest of steps. He cringed every time. While these woods were beautiful, there was many, many reasons that he wanted to get the hell out of there. 

It was on that frigid, fall morning where he heard noises he couldn’t have even mustered in his nightmares. Screams of wild, tameless pain, like a child getting their nails ripped out one by one, or a woman stepping on a three inch nail. His dad had to assure him that the sounds were just animals, but those echoing screams would reverberate through his room whenever he’d wake up in the dead of night, and he’d fear them. 

He looked it up a few weeks later, after his nightmares had become almost unbearable, trying to find a sort of closure and assurance that it was just animal calls. He quickly narrowed the nightmarish noise down to two animals, a bobcat or a fox. Both of their calls, even just through his headset, sent chills down his spine. They both sounded remarkably human, each video he clicked making his chest seize all over again. They sounded like someone experiencing a pain so severe and bone deep, that their voice echoed for miles around them. And despite watching countless videos of the very animals releasing their chilling howls, endless scenarios of what horrors were going on in the shadows of that canopy of trees, flashed behind his eyes with every blink. 

Needless to say, he went a few more weeks until he got a full night sleep, and his dad never asked him along on the hunt again. 
____

Hunk came to all to fast, and he flailed to keep himself from tipping forward out of his seat. His ribs throbbed, but he kept himself upright, pushing up on the escape pod's. The screen was dark, unsurprisingly given their landing. Or lack there of… it was more of a plummet if he had to describe it. 

His head pounded, but he knew for a fact he managed to shield his skull, so only his chest was worrisome. A quick but ever so gentle prodding confirmed his nauseating suspicion that he did indeed have at least two broken ribs. 

If Hunk had to guess, they could hack into a warship with their eyes closed by now.  It was a well developed sequence, one that had worked out all the kinks simply based on stubbornness, and trial and error, and every Paladin had their job; Keith protect the door, Pidge and Hunk work on getting as much information downloaded as possible. But naturally because they were feeling cocky, the plan had gone horribly, beautifully wrong. Once Pidge had successfully hacked into the Galran war ship’s data mine, the ship had apparently sounded some silent alarm. That was definitely new, because the team had infiltrated more ships undetected than Hunk had fingers, and not a single one of them had triggered an entire system shut down. 

And ship-wide detonation. 

But thanks to the now very much not silent alarms signaling the ship crystal was due to overheat in just 10 seconds, and the dozens of pods he saw already cast out of the ship out the window, it was obvious that they had hit an…unforeseen roadblock. 

They didn’t even have enough time to get back to the Green lion, so sue them if they decided tp steal a pod. Or three. 

Of course, because God hated him apparently, upon the eventual detonation, Hunk was blasted into a random planet’s atmosphere and couldn’t recover the controls in time. 

This day was just full of surprises. 

And now here he was, struggling to even loosen his seatbelt without jostling his throbbing middle. 

He flicked on his helmet’s comms, seeing the shuttle was out of commission completely, and was met with deafening static. He jolted and his heart sank a little, but he flicked through the channels nonetheless. Nothing yet… maybe outside?

Hunk lifted himself up with the help of his chair, heeding not to twist so much as to anger his ribs again. He slowly made his way out of the cockpit and out of the shuttle’s graciously open wide backend, quickly surveying the planet with the vague hope they’d been here before. 

Nope definitely not.

He’d landed in between two absolutely huge trees, their trunks maybe four whole lions thick and triple that the height. And these things went on forever. They made the Olkari forest look miniscule. No wonder his signal was weak, the giant thing’s branches were like an umbrella, and while it seemed his shuttle had skirted under the foliage upon landing, he quickly found a hole through the brush just a few hundred feet away, smoking at the edges of the greenery. 

Needless to say the smoldering crater in the ground was pretty compelling too. 

A lump formed in his throat, fear for his teammates rising anew. He thought they’d escaped the blast, at least mores than him, but it seemed like he couldn’t be more wrong. 

He picked up his pace, quickly finding his ankle was also starting to ache, but he barely felt it. 

All he could think of was Pidge or Keith, broken in a shuttle all alone.

So he hurried the fuck up.

He was only about a football field’s distance away, when he thought he heard it. 

He skidded to a stop, his legs freezing though his mind was racing.

Then he heard it for sure, much clearer and just like the screech that had haunted his nightmares for years.

A bobcat call.

That gut-wrenching, raw yowl of an animal. 

But… he was an incomprehensible amount of miles away from earth and, as far as he knew, bobcats weren’t know for their ability to travel to distant galaxies. 

It repeated, once or twice every few dozen seconds, after it seemingly caught its breath enough, only to push it out so forcibly. 

It’s not possible. It’s just not possible. So why did his chest seize up every time he heard it?

Hunk ripped off his helmet, and threw it to the side with only minimal wincing, and put his hands over his ears. He took measured breaths. He couldn’t afford to be slacking. Your friends need you. Whatever that thing is, deal with it later.

When he caught his breath, his hands fell away and he could feel his legs again, but the yowls continued. 

But unshrowded by childish fear, he heard just how different this animal sounded from the bobcat call he’d so hated. This one was deeper, and covered a wider range of octaves rather than just a uniform scream like he’d heard with his dad. This one seemed like a wounded animal rather than a hunting one. 

He could feel his limbs again, so he ran. He closed the distance in record time, which he would have to pat himself on the back for later, because now all he could think of was holy fucking quiznak

It was obvious upon inspection that one of his friends had been thrown out of the wreckage, from the looks of it when their shuttle hit a giant root just a few dozen feet away. And while they rolled ahead of it, the shuttle’s velocity carried it to follow them, ripping through the ground and rolling to a stop. 

They weren’t big pods, just large enough for one galran soldier and some cargo each, but it was plenty big enough to do damage. 

Then the horrible yell broke out yet again, and Hunk felt a fresh wave of nausea flush over him as he put the whole picture together. 

Its Keith

Hunk frantically ripped away rubble from around the site, but thanks to the yowls, it didn’t take long for him to uncover him. Just a few feet away from the shuttle itself. 

“Keith! Buddy! Are you—"

He tasted bile again. Keiths helmet was nowhere to be seen, but the shallow gashes on Keith’s cheeks and neck were evidence enough to it had shattered before being torn off. His eyes were slitted and all too unfocused, and his chest was rising and falling alarmingly fast, and his right hand was burned up to his elbow. But most notably, and most heinously, there was a jagged piece of metal pinning him to the ground, right through his side. 

Hunk's stomach was churning like a monsoon.

It wasn’t a huge piece, maybe two inches thick, but it pinned the smaller boy to the ground, and its jagged edges were not being kind to Keith. If Hunk had to guess, it was a piece of mangled piping from the engine.

Hunk quickly discovered the yowling was caused by Keith mechanically yet perpetually trying to pry himself free of the shard every time he caught his breath. His stained and ripped hands would yank at the piece, with all he could muster in that breath, then he would fall flat and recover his breath and just … try again. It didn’t seem like he’d even noticed Hunk was there. 

Hunk felt beyond sick… he felt dazed and detached. But he knew that helped neither of them. 

“Keith! Stop! Don’t—Don’t touch it!” Hunk all but yelled as he pinned Keith's bloodied hands at his sides too easily. A low wheeze of protest escaped his bleeding lips. Hunk’s stomach churned as he leaned over Keith, smelling the sickly copper and sweet dew on the grass. He held Keith’s arms firm, confident he could stop Keith from injuring himself further until help arrived. 

And there was little Hunk could do to stop Keith from arching his back.

The smaller writhed against the shrapnel, his mind desperately trying anything to free itself of what was no doubt excruciating agony. But it only caused more, more, more. Small warm droplets hit Hunk’s cheek. He had to clench his eyes shut and swallow hard to keep from getting sick.

“Keith, please!” Hunk begged, "stop moving!”

A beat of pure silence. 

He honestly didn’t know if Keith had actually heard him or if he’d finally passed out from the pain, but the smaller stilled, and laid limp, breathing hard and fast. 

Now finally still, Hunk forced himself to look directly at the wound. In the one or two seconds he managed at first, he knew immediately how bad it was. The wound itself looked like it had been a lot smaller when it was initially inflicted, but since Keith’s struggling it only made the edges look more mangled and almost papery. All in all, the shrapnel itself looked like it went cleanly through, considering the teeth-like edges. The blood looked too thick, like something out of a Studio Ghibli movie, and it still gushed from both above and below him; trailing down Keith’s side blooming out from under. It mixed begrudgingly with the grass and rocky mud. 

Hunk couldn’t take it anymore; he finally retched, to the side thankfully, but he still heaved up bile to join the clotted blood.

Hunk stood on wobbly legs, but managed to get over to the main wreckage of the shuttle, and in his first stroke of luck of the day, found the first aid kit still fastened underneath the console. He shambled back over to Keith, almost slipping in the wetness puddling around him as he fell to his knees. He tore through the kit, fishing out the three rolls of gauze, anti-septic and a needle full of some blue liquid. He remembered Kolivan telling him and the team everything that went in these standard Galra kits, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what the hell the blue syringe did. He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand a few times, wracking his brain. 

Hunk heard his helmet pinging from where he’d thrown it, a small glimmer of hope that its signal had finally shown up on radar. Now all it had to do was show up on a friendly one. Hunk’s throat burned as he gasped for a good breath. 

He remembered now. A numbing agent. Now all he had to do was pray it worked on half-galras as effectively as full bloods. He pinched a bit of Keith’s exposed but undamaged side, stabbing the needle into the cold skin and slamming the plunger down. In only a few seconds, Keith’s breathing slowed, and his hands and neck muscles stopped twitching all together. 

Now that Keith (hopefully) couldn’t feel anything, it was time for the part Hunk had been dreading the most.

Hunk stood and bent Keith’s knees up a little before grabbing both of his wrists. He needed to get Keith out of there. Well… get it out of Keith. 

He took a deep, steading breath, before he let it shakily out again. 

He pulled, and to both his luck and discomfort, Keith made hardly any sign of pain at all. Only a small but heart wrenching whine from deep in the back of his throat. Its funny, the smallest and most quiet sound had made Hunk want to cry the most. 

Hunk pulled him up perfectly in line with the trajectory of the debris, and with only one lucky tug, Keith was free. The smaller fell against Hunk’s chest, before the taller gently lowered him back down. Hunk felt the blood drip down his front, but he sorta had a more pressing matter to attend to.

Hunk stuffed the hole with an entire rolls worth of gauze, before gently wrapping the other two around him as tight as possible. He then leaned his entire weight onto the wound, causing all of the air to leave Keith’s lungs at once in a sort of throaty rattle.

Keith's dull eyes found him somehow, and even though he couldn't tell if he was actually seeing him, he nodded assuringly at his friend.

Hunk felt a cold sweat drip down his back, and his own injuries were screaming, but he held tight. He somehow found himself vomiting out words instead of sick. 

“Keith, ju-just hold on. Pidge has our location by now and is on her way. I’m sure of it.”

He babbled until he lost his voice.
_____

On the ride back to the castle, Hunk was almost positive Keith was dead. Now cradling him on his lap, he could feel the cold radiating off of his hands and face and almost all color was completely drained, save for the now dulled burgundy that was splattered on the both of them. 

When he handed him off to Shiro, he felt an apology rising up his throat, but the pure and uncensored terror on his face stopped Hunk in his tracks. Shiro had already started sprinting by the time Hunk’s legs gave out. Lance was beside him in an instant, yelling something probably two inches fro his ear, but he still couldn’t hear him. 

The coldness had lingered on Hunks hands, spreading up his wrists and gripping his chest. 
____

Pidge and Lance had helped him get cleaned up and tried to get him to eat something, but he couldn’t keep anything down. Only six hours later, when Coran had assured the whole team Keith was out of any danger, did Hunk even think about stepping into a pod. 

Shiro hugged him so hard, it put his own bear hugs to shame.

Notes:

I read a fic awhile ago that inspired this ficlet, when I find it I'll link it here

Chapter 17: Shattered (One-shot)

Summary:

Keef take a tumble

Notes:

Tags: panic, breathlessness/choking, blood, punctured lung, very brief mention of surgery

The droid had knocked him against the railing and the cold of the metal bit through the small of his back through his flight suit. He held his blade firm, an occasional spark hitting his visor. The droids height made him brace harder on his heels, as he slid his right foot behind himself to steady for another blow. This time Keith’s arms gave just a little too much, and he knocked into railing. He wasn’t worried about holding the blade in his sights, but when a wretched screech sounded below him, he barely had time to register it. The support against his back suddenly gave, only by an inch or two, and held Keith there, just off-balance enough for him to gasp but not enough for his focus to break. Though, when the droid’s weight fell against him, the railing gave one final shriek before it gave way entirely.

Keith didn’t feel the free fall, his only concern being the enemy that was now so close he could smell its gears turning. The robot was already readying a lethal strike, but in the seconds he had, he planted his foot against the droids chest and wrapped his arm around its neck before he yanked his elbow back as hard as he could, slicing his blade as he pulled. The head fell free, he threw the body to his sides, and for a split second, Keith smirked to himself.

Then the air got knocked out of him.

He coughed and gasped, gulping back down the air that was so rudely ejected from him. He had landed on his back, but luckily the helmets kept him from knocking his head back as he did. It was only maybe an eleven-foot drop, but his tail bone buzzed with pins and needles that would most definitely turn into an aching pain soon. Not so distantly, he heard Lance cursing out the, now last, remaining droid, and he almost chuckled at the thought of if the robot even understood him. He felt his bayard still gripped in his hand, so he tightened his grip and made to sit up.

A stab of discomfort overwhelmed him and he lost his breath all over again. His vision went white for just a second and he choked on a splintered inhale. His fingers uncurled on reflex, and his hands scrambled to the site of the ache, right under his ribs. When his vision returned, and he saw his fingers came back dry, his mind reeled. Did he break his back? Was he paralyzed from a little fall like that? He gulped more air, the breaths quickly turning into pitched wheezes as his panic rose. When he heard Lance ask where he was, his voice high and desperate, Keith knew he needed to get moving. Gathering himself as much as he could, he focused on his legs, feet, and toes, moving one limb at a time as he tested his limits. He still struggled to catch his breath as his heart rate become more leveled, and he coughed when he lifted each leg. Then his arms, and each finger too, all good. Not paralyzed, always a good thing, so must be a bruised rib or something. He’s handled worse than that. He took a deep, shaky breath, before pushing himself up on his behind, sword back in his hand where it belonged.

The small motion caused shockwaves of nausea and throbbing aches to ride down his nerves, but he managed to stay upright. As he gently twisted to locate Lance, he noticed, where he landed, a small smear of blood. He absentmindedly reached to his back to feel for the small shard of glass that had no doubt nicked him. His exhales were still ending in breathless whistles, but he didn't notice.

His cold, gloved fingers caught on the edge of the glass shard, only about as big as a fingernail is Keith had to guess, and he pinched it. He even managed to wiggle it a little, but it was stuck tight. A problem for later then.

He pushed himself to stand, eyes flicking to the discarded droid head before he finally saw Lance. The droid had not been giving Lance enough distance to use his rifle, so he was using the barrel as a sort of makeshift longsword to parry the onslaught of blows. The bot’s body was riddled with holes, yet all of them had somehow missed the vital mechanisms. Keith almost laughed, but he saw how tired Lance’s movements were becoming, so he sprinted over on shaking legs.

Lance made a sort of light gasp as he saw Keith running at him, and with a shared nod, Lance kicked the bot away as Keith raised his sword.

Lance shot a hole right through the thing's torso just seconds after Keith beheaded it. It flailed to the ground, legs still kicking and trying to get itself upright again before it stilled.

Lance gave a triumphant laugh and elbowed Keith. The shorter was audibly wheezing now.

“Out of breath from a little scuffle like that, Mullet?”

Keith’s face scrunched, “Shut-shut your face, Lance… You sh-you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you? I had that thing under control! I didn’t ask for your help!”

Keith’s heart rate was steady now, so why the hell couldn’t he catch his breath?

“Just- let's just get back t-“ Keith wheezed, and braced his hands on his knees where he stood, “get back to the others.”

Keith didn’t look up but saw Lance’s feet approaching him slowly.

“Wow, okay now you’re worrying me a little, man. Did you get the wind knocked…” the taller’s voice trailed off into silence.

“What?” Keith pushed out a breath that was supposed to be a laugh, but was just a longer wheeze, “Come up-come up with another joke mi-mid sentence?” Sweat was gathering at his neck and down his cheek.

“Dude-“ Lance began, his boots stepping back again, “holy quiznak…”

“What?” Keith finally lifted his eyes from the floor and saw how pale Lance had gotten. He was beginning to feel little lightheaded. “Did-did you get hurt or som-something?”

“Me?!” Lance almost yelled, his face surprised at the audacity of the question, “What the fuck happened to you?!”

“I feh-I fell down from the balcony- nothings broken, I ch-checked.” A sharp cough made the growing tightness in his chest even more hard to ignore.

“Keith you’re probably in shock-or-or something, you have a glass shard in your back.”

“Oh-hoh,” Keith nodded, and gulped down more air like a fish, “I know, it’s nothin-“

“Keith... its in your back.”

“Wha…” Keith again absently reached around and probed the shard, only to still as Lance squeaked in surprise.

“Don’t! I can’t tell how deep it is! Let's just get back to the Lions before you start to feel it!”

Keith almost laughed but choked on the air again. A wet, violent cough tore up his throat, and he felt something splatter against his teeth as he tried to hold the fit at bay. His tongue stung with copper. Yeah something was seriously wrong.

And to add insult to injury (no pun intended), Lance’s face had somehow paled even more, which did not help his panic levels. Or- was it panic causing his shortness of breath or-

“Keith. Look at me.”

His wide eyes snapped to Lance’s, hand cupping over his mouth as the coughs continued. He felt something warm roll down his chin. He didn’t think he could speak even if he tried.

“I- I’m gonna carry you back okay? It’ll be quicker.”

Before Keith could even process what was happening, Lance knelt down in front of him, and Keith hesitated only for a second before dropping his hand from his face and grabbing onto his teammate. He didn’t notice the red he smeared on Lance’s arm as he gripped. Lance stood with relative ease, carefully moving the smaller into position. With his head on Lance’s shoulder and his chest plate knocking against his, he finally noticed how weirdly he’d been breathing. His breaths came out irregularly, a cough or a jolt of tightness in his chest making the task even more arduous. And the tightness in his chest was only worsening by the second.

“Keith, I’m gonna have to run. It’s gonna suck, but we need to get back okay?”

Keith made to affirm, but he choked again, this time not on air, but liquid. He coughed, and the red splattered between his teeth before his hand could cover it.

“Yeah ok, definitely running.”

The run itself wasn’t bad, Keith was holding on tight enough that he didn’t get tossed around too much, but the tightness in his chest had reached a point Keith could only compare to a towel-ringer. His chest barely could expand before the tightness cut off the air, and he choked again and again and again. And the discomfort had started to really thump in his back, not so much a pain but a deep, hot ache. Distantly, Keith noted how just how lightheaded he was getting. His mind began to fog.

“Keith!” Lance barked, just as they rounded his Lion. Keith “don’t let go yet we’re almost in Blue.”

Had he started to let go? He didn't mean to. He mouthed a breathless apology.

When did Lance get so far away? Hadn’t he been carrying him? He sounded yards away now. He heard Lance talking again, this time to his comms he assumed.

His temples began to throb as he gasped for air that apparently didn't exist. His chest rattled and his throat stung. He felt like he was weightlessly drifting below waves of pressure, unable to breathe. Drowning.

Then nothing.
__

He had barely been breathing by the time they finally made it back to the castle. His lips had even turned a ghostly, pale blue.

The extraction had gone well, Coran assured them, but judging on how exhausted the man looked, it hadn’t been an easy task. The paladins must’ve come to the infirmary a little too early because Coran’s sleeves were still sprayed with red and the stained linens had yet to be changed. The oldest man tried his damnedest to keep his sleeves behind his back and his body in front of the bed.

“The glass nicked his left lung, but he’s in a pod now, and out of immediate danger, I assure you all.”

The collective sigh of relief between the five of them could've knocked over a Lion.

Notes:

Sorry for the extreme delay - I even have college through the summer so I've had no time at all, but I hope you enjoyed this very rough return

Notes:

Hi hello welcome to the whump show... if you can't wait for more whump, check out my other much longer fics! Deep Blue Depths, Free Falling, or Hitting Rock Bottom, they all feature a fair bit of Keith whump, and some Klance if that tickles your fancy :D

IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS, JUST ASK!! ❤️

(EDIT 7/18/20: ART IN CHAPTER 6!!!)

(EDIT 7/23/20: NEW ART IN CHAPTER 8!!!!!)

(EDIT 9/16/20: Chapter 12 is my favorite chapter yet!!)