#pre-klance

Keith/Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Team as Family

Angst, BAMF Lance, Langst, 3659 words

Summary: 

“These things aren’t pressure activated, right?” he asked. Timarin shook her head, puzzled by the question. “No. They have a deceptively soft exterior, as well — kind of like a tight… bag, if that makes sense? — but they’re virtually indestructible until their time is up.” Lance nodded, fist clenched. He looked like he was steeling himself. He took a deep breath. “Nine minutes. Five kilometres. I can do that.” Hunk realised what Lance was planning a millisecond too late. His eyes widened in panic. “Lance, that’s suici—“ --- OR: Lance will give and give and give of himself, until there is nothing left to gift.

--- 

Everyone froze as something flew through the window, coming to a rolling stop in front of the help desk.

After several moments of tense silence, Pidge was the first to speak up.

“Please tell me that is not what I think it is,” she said in a shaky voice.

“A Puigiogan bomb,” Timarin confirmed quietly.

Hunk swallowed roughly.

“There’s —“ he choked on his words. There were so many people in this hospital. How could people be so cruel? And for what? Money? Power? — “There’s a ten minute timer on it.”

The air was starting to feel thick with panic. The team had maybe thirty seconds to come up with a plan, and it was difficult to believe it would even work. There was no way they could evacuate the hospital quickly enough — even if they could, Timarin had informed them that these bonds had a five kilometre blast radius. There was no way they could move thousands of sick and injured Pou-logians to a safe distance in under ten — well, nine and a half minutes, now.

There was a very real chance this could be the end of the Paladins of Voltron — in the middle of a civil war, on a planet full of innocent people suffering at the hands of greedy leaders, hundreds of billions of miles away from home.

Hunk looked at his friends, seeing his own hopelessness and fear reflected in their faces, before a look of steely determination flashed through Lance’s dark eyes.

“These things aren’t pressure activated, right?” he asked.

Timarin shook her head, puzzled by the question.

“No. They have a deceptively soft exterior, as well — kind of like a tight… bag, if that makes sense? — but they’re virtually indestructible until their time is up.”

Lance nodded, fist clenched. He looked like he was steeling himself. He took a deep breath.

“Nine minutes. Five kilometres. I can do that.”

Hunk realised what Lance was planning a millisecond too late. His eyes widened in panic.

“Lance, that’s suici—“

But Lance had already bolted, scooping the bomb from the ground and leaping from the open window. The team rushed over to the ledge, real fear painting their faces into a grotesque tapestry of terror.

“Lance!” It wasn’t one of them that screamed, but all of them, their desperation begging him to find some other way. But he was already off — leaping and dodging over rubble and wreckage with a skill that seemed almost superhuman.

Seven and a half minutes.

Lance was running faster than Hunk had ever seen him move, far into the desert. He had to have reached at least one and a half kilometres by now, and was in a dead sprint away from the hospital.

Hunk wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to fall to his knees and wail. But all he did was watch, in muted horror, as his best friend ran to what was most likely a brutal death. Beside him, he heard Pidge start to cry, and Shiro muttering prayers. Keith reached over to clench Hunk’s hand in both of his, without looking away from the window.

Five minutes.

Lance was still in a dead sprint. Hunk remembered learning offhandedly that the fastest a human had ever run one kilometre was in two minutes and eleven seconds.

Lance was definitely making better time than that.

Hunk felt a flicker of hope in his chest.

At what had to be at least five kilometres out — Lance seemed like a speck, he was so far away they had to use the zoom on their helmets to see him — he stopped. Hunk felt his heart jump into his throat.

Three minutes. The hospital was safe, now — but there was no way Lance could make it back in time, not if he was just standing there!

“What is he doing,” Keith hissed.

Lance suddenly ran forward a couple steps, bomb outstretched in his hand, and then drop-kicked it with all his strength. Without waiting to see how far it went, he turned back around and sprinted, faster than he was going before.

Shiro wasn’t praying, anymore, not real prayers. He was just muttering ‘please’, over and over again. Begging whoever was listening to keep Lance alive.

90 seconds.

“Pidge. How far is Lance?” Keith demanded. Pidge brought up her scanner in shaky hands, pressing a button.

“A-about three kilometres away from our position. Halfway between us and the bomb — he kicked it pretty far.”

50 seconds.

“Shit,” Keith whispered.

Even if Lance was going as fast as he could, there was no way he would make it back to the hospital in time. He was still in the blast radius, just barely approaching the end of the ruins surrounding the building.

40 seconds.

Lance began the same process of hurdling over the rubble, but it was slowing him down significantly. He was tired.

35 seconds.

Suddenly, Keith ripped his hands from Hunk’s cupping them around his mouth.

“Come on, Lance! You can do it! You’re so close!”

Lance looked up at the sound, hesitating for a second before climbing the ruins with renewed vigour.

The other paladins were quick to join in.

“You’re nearly there, Lance!”

30 seconds.

“Keep going!”

29 .

“Come back to us!”

28 .

He couldn’t be more than two kilometres away, now. So close.

27 .

But still in the blast zone.

26 .

The encouragements could only do so much — Lance had just put Olympic runners to shame, and in armour. He was depleted, fatigued. Weary.

25 .

Hunk could barely see through his tears.

24 .

He didn’t want his best friend to die.

23 .

Nineteen. Lance was nineteen . That was too young to go.

22 .

None of them were old enough to die, really. They were all too young for this. Everyone was too young for this. How old is old enough to be slaughtered on the front lines?

21 .

Lance may have his issues, but Hunk knew he wasn’t suicidal. Lance loved so hugely. With his whole heart.

20 .

He may not want to die, but Hunk knew Lance would never forgive himself if a hospital full of innocents went up in smoke as he did nothing.

19 .

Honestly, Hunk might not forgive Lance for this.

18 .

What was he supposed to do? Without his best friend at his side?

17 .

Lance, who supported him through every endeavour?

16 .

Lance, who stood by him through the worst defeats, the most satisfying victories?

15 .

Lance, who had brothers and sisters and siblings and niblings and aunts and uncles and grandparents?

14 .

God, what would Lance’s mother say? Feel? How is Hunk supposed to come back to Earth alive, only to tell Mrs. McClain that her youngest son did not make it back?

13 .

Pidge would be devastated. Losing another brother.

12 .

Shiro… losing one of the kids he had to protect. He would feel like a failure . It would break him.

11 .

Allura and Coran had found family in the paladins. Losing Lance would be another blow to their already ravaged home — Hunk could barely comprehend what it would feel like to lose the people you called home again and again.

10 .

Keith. Keith . Hunk wasn’t quite sure what Lance was to Keith, but he knew — he knew there was something under the surface. Something brewing in both of them, something wonderful. They would never get the chance to tell each other how they felt, if Lance failed to make it out of this.

9 .

And Hunk.

8 .

Hunk knew he would not survive without Lance. Lance had been with him his whole life. Lance was a part of him, and not one he could live without.

7.

Please make it.

6 .

Please don’t leave me to figure out how to navigate a world without you.

5 .

Please.

4 .

Lance was closer, now, but the ruins and his own exhaustion had slowed him down to basically crawling. He was close to giving up, too, Hunk could see it. Lance checked his watch, seeing the time he had left, and visibly braced himself, before vaulting over a piece of a wall, landing in a crater, and yanking something over the top to give him a semblance of cover.

3 .

He was still in the bomb’s radius, but there wasn’t any more time to move. Hiding and hoping was all he had. All any of them had.

2 .

Hunk felt Keith grip his hand again, and Pidge hold on to his other one. He glanced over to see Shiro tightly gripping Pidge as well.

1 .

Please.

0.

A huge explosion deafened everyone, sending a shockwave strong enough to nearly bowl them all over. Dust billowed up into a huge cloud, and a small earthquake rattled the ground beneath them. Hunk choked, having inhaled a good amount of the airborne desert dust and sand, and heard the echoes of hundreds of others doing the same, along with panicked screaming from those who didn’t know what was going on.

It was several minutes before anyone gathered their bearings enough to move. Keith recovered first.

“Timarin!” he barked, “Are there any structural damages? Any casualties?” Timarin shook her head frantically, eyes watering from all the debris.

“Everyone is safe!” she called hoarsely. “Your paladin has saved us all!”

Keith needed no further encouragement, and leapt through the window, disappearing into the dust cloud, presumably to go find Lance.

Everyone was quick to follow.

Please, please do not let us find a body , Hunk begged to whomever was listening. His gods, the gods of this planet, the universe. He didn’t care. Whomever was benevolent enough to return Lance safely to them.

“Lance! Lance! If you can hear us, respond! Lance!” Hunk felt the desperation in Keith’s voice reflect in himself — he didn’t have a plan for if Lance was dead. He just had to be alive, there was no other option.

“Lance!”

“Lance, buddy, let us know you can hear us!”

“Guys, try turning on your thermal cams, it’ll be easier to see in all the dust,” Pidge suggested. They all did so, and resumed digging through the rubble to find their teammate.

After an hour of searching, hope was beginning to wear thin, along with everyone’s patience. They were afraid, and tense, and there was no Lance to lighten the mood, redirect their energy. Everyone was tired and snappy and it felt like nothing was going their way.

“Why, again, can we not radio the castle and get some help?” Keith asked irritably.

“I already fucking told you,” Pidge snapped, “The Puigiogans set up a long range radio blocker so the Pou-logians can’t ask for reinforcements. Besides, Timarin said they’ve planted several mines of huge magnitude and they don’t know where — I’m afraid that Allura and Coran might land on one and then —“ her voice cracked, and a new wave of tears streamed down her face. “And then we might lose them, too.”

All the fight drained out of Keith in an instant.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry for snapping, Pidge, it’s not your fault. It’s just — I can’t lose him.” He pulled Pidge into his arms, both of them holding tightly for a moment. Hunk and Shiro took a moment to collect themselves, as well.

“We’ll find him,” Shiro said, determined. “We won’t leave this planet until we do.”

They continued searching, thermal cameras on, looking for any sign of life. Pidge tried her B.L.I.P reader again, but the bomb mixed with the radio jammers was scrambling the scanner, and it wasn’t much help.

Hunk closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted. As much as they wanted to keep looking for Lance until they found him, they’d all been up for nearly 52 hours. They were tired and hungry and they couldn’t go on much longer. They —

Hunk tripped over a piece of what looked to be a door, which cracked to pieces when he touched it. He looked over to curse it, scowling, when he caught sight of a flash of bright blue that had been unearthed when the door crumbled.

“Lance!” he screamed, rushing over to the boy. He distantly heard the rest of the team scrambling over to them.

“Lance, Lance, I’m here,” Hunk babbled, jumping down into the crater.

Lance wasn’t responding.

Hunk crawled over, careful to avoid sharp pieces of shrapnel. He gathered Lance’s unconscious body into his arms, hefting him up gently. Lance was a dead weight, unmoving. There was a scary amount of blood on his face, and his helmet was cracked. There were several pieces of shrapnel sticking out of his body.

Hunk hastily removed the armour on Lance’s forearms, and let out a sob of relief when he felt a pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

Shiro’s head poked out from the top of the crater.

“Is he alive?”

Hunk couldn’t speak through his sobs, only nodding.

“Okay, it’s okay, Hunk, we’re gonna get him out of there. Hold on.”

Then he was shouting something to the rest of the team, maybe to someone else. Hunk didn’t know, and didn’t care.

Lance was alive . He survived. He would make it to a healing pod, and then Hunk was going to chain Lance to his person and never let him out of his sight again.

They made it back to the castle. Hunk didn’t remember how, it was all a blur. The Alteans were a flurry of panicked guilt, Coran setting Lance on a surgery table to remove the shrapnel as Allura prepped a pod. Lance was still unresponsive, not even making a noise when the piece of metal that had pierced three inches into his side was removed.

That was worrying.

He was finally put in stasis, and the pod made a happy chirping noise that Hunk felt was inappropriate for the situation.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Pidge asked in a small voice. Coran sighed deeply, shoulders hunched.

Hunk had rarely seen Coran standing anything but straight and tall and proud. It scared him.

“I’m nervous about the head wound. He was unresponsive for hours, after the bomb, and this is the second time he’s received a major head injury and gone unconscious. I’m — I’m worried about potential brain damage. Pods are exceptional pieces of technology, but he was hurt for… almost too long. It does not make me hopeful.”

This time it was Allura who choked on a sob.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered.

Pidge wiped her face, turning to Allura.

“Why —“ she hiccuped — “Why are you sorry?”

Allura exhaled deeply, breath stuttering.

“I saw the explosion, but I didn’t hear your radio and assumed you all were safe. I should have known our signals were interrupted. I should have descended immediately, to help you look — maybe we would have found him faster.”

Shiro put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. A pillar of support, even though he was falling apart as much as the rest of them.

“It’s no one’s fault but the terrorists who bombed a hospital of innocents,” he said firmly. “There’s no use in the blame game, anyway. We found Lance when we did, and we found him alive. Whether or not he suffers when he wakes — he’ll be with us. That’s leagues better than the alternative.”

Allura sniffed, nodding. “You’re right,” she said softly. “There is nothing more to be done.” She turned to the rest of the paladins, clapping her hands together. “Alright! You have all been awake and suffering for far too long. Lance is in a pod now, as safe as he can be. Everyone should clean, eat, and get some rest.”

Shiro nodded. “You’re right. Everyone, let’s—“

Keith spoke for the first time since they entered the castle. “I’m staying,” he said hoarsely.

Shiro sighed, looking decades older than his twenty-five. “I know you want to stay with him,” he said softly, “But you need to eat and shower, okay? Then you can stay here, maybe nap for a while next to the pod. But you should at least wash off the dirt.” Keith opened his mouth to argue, but Coran held up a hand.

“I’ll watch over him while you follow orders, my boy,” he reassured. “No ill shall befall him under my care. I swear it.”

Keith hesitated a moment, but eventually nodded. He trusted Coran as much as any of them.

They all quietly made their ways to their rooms, cleaning up and grabbing a snack before collapsing onto their beds. Hunk didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, not with the worry he was still holding at the forefront of his mind, but his exhaustion caught up to him and he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Lance spent several days in the pod, with Keith refusing to leave his side. Hunk struggled to leave, too, but he’d always handled his anxiety by distracting himself, and this was no exception. He must have cleaned Lance’s armour three times in as many days, and he cooked more than he knew what to do with. There was no threat of invasion, as Allura had them parked on a random moon in a random solar system lightyears away from any Empire influence, and was ready to wormhole away at a moment’s notice if necessary.

The team would not be moving forward until Lance was fully returned to them — this was certain.

After three full weeks, Keith’s yell echoed throughout the castle.

“The pod’s beeping! He’s waking up!”

Hunk barrelled into the med bay just in time to see Lance collapse forward into Keith’s arms. The rest of the team gathered around them, breath held and fingers crossed.

There was a moment of silence, before Lance blinked awake and —

“K-Keith?” he croaked. Keith let out a sob, crushing Lance to his chest. The rest of them rushed forward, a massive tangle of limbs and tears and relief . Lance was okay. He was okay!

After several moments of overwhelming tears and prayers of gratitude, Lance was sat on an observation table to scan for any lasting effects.

“I think you’re going to be alright, Number Three,” Coran said, pulling Lance into a hug after several minutes of testing. “Aside from some residual sensitivity — you had possibly the worst head wound I’ve ever seen — you will make a full recovery.”

“So he’s healthy?” Hunk asked nervously. “He’s 100% good? Fine? No issues?”

“Safe and sound,” Coran reassured.

“Good.”

Hunk walked towards his best friend of nearly two decades, and decked him in the arm.

“Ow!” Lance exclaimed, looking at Hunk in betrayal.

Hunk sniffed, eyes getting watery again. “I’m not sorry. You scared me.” He pulled Lance into a crushing hug, squeezing tightly.

Lance looked incredulously over Hunk's shoulder at the team, who were all sporting similarly teary expressions.

“He just hit me!”

Pidge sniffled. “You deserved that,” she said in a wobbly voice. Lance softened, holding out his arm. She wiggled her way under it, Lance petting her hair. He smiled sadly at the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said gently.

Keith glared at him, but he was so happy to see Lance alive and safe that it didn’t quite have the effect he was hoping for.

“I notice you’re not sorry for doing it,” he said, voice cracking with emotion.

Lance closed his eyes, exhaling heavily.

“You know I can’t apologise,” he said. “There were thousands of innocents in that hospital, and we had no other plan. I did what I had to do, and I don’t regret it. The only thing I regret is your pain, and…” he cut himself off, looking down with a light flush. “Maybe I regret leaving some things unsaid, too.”

Hunk let go of Lance, taking a step back. Pidge did, too. Hunk took a deep breath, collected his thoughts, and then spoke.

“Lance. Firstly, I need you to know that we love you deeply, and the pain each of us felt when we thought we lost you was unbearable.” There was nodding from the rest of the team. It felt like the panic and agony of the first week of Voltron, when Sendak invaded, only times a million.

“Secondly, I need you to know how difficult acting as a team was when you weren’t there. Everyone was tense and snappy and horrible and we did not work together well. I know you have some trouble envisioning that, but it was genuinely… difficult, to function without you. Individually and as a group.”

Shiro shot Lance a tight smile, seeing his look of disbelief. “At one point, we just stopped talking to each other because we couldn’t do it without yelling or crying,” he admitted. Lance looked bewildered, but Hunk was happy to see it seemed to be sinking in: Lance was important, he was vital , and they didn’t know how to be without him.

“Finally,” Hunk said with a wry smile, “You should know that Keith spent the three weeks you were in a pod sleeping next to you. He could barely be convinced to leave to shower.” Both Keith and Lance burst into a flush that looked simultaneously pleased and embarrassed. Hunk’s grin matched the rest of the team’s. “So the rest of us are going to give you two a moment to work yourselves out, and then we are going to watch a movie in the rec room and you’re going to take turns cuddling all of us, because we are all seriously deprived of quality Lance time. Deal?”

“Deal,” Lance squeaked out. Hunk chucked softly, and led the way out to give the two love birds some space.

Hunk took a deep breath, tilting his head up to send a quick thank you to whomever it was that kept his best friend safe in that crater.

“C’mon, let’s go grab my celebratory cupcakes from the kitchen,” he said, waving everyone over.

I’m literally struggling to keep my eyes open, but there will be a Day 11!

@vldwhumpmas2017

Post-College AU– Pre-Klance 

“Dear Guy from Apt. 3-B, 

It appears you’re sick.”

Lance pauses– pen hovering over the word sick. If anything, ‘sick’ is the understatement of the century, if the coughing alone is anything to go by. 

It started a week ago– that much Lance can remember. He bumped into the guy in the hall, and boy, did he look rough. Lance never caught a name– not when he was too busy practically gaping at the flushed cheeks glowing a deep red against pale, almost ashen, skin or the slick sheen of sweat coating sunken features. He only managed out a weak “uh, you okay?” before the guy shrugged with a harsh cough and sidestepped around to get to the stairs. 

The days to follow were rough; Lance just barely caught sight of the guy slipping out of the apartment complex in a leather jacket– long, unruly hair pulled back against the sharp winter breeze. It was at the same time everyday; they always just missed each other, with Lance returning the apartment building as his neighbor left, but Lance still saw the guy stalking down the snow-covered sidewalk with hunched shoulders and a popped jacket collar. 

While they never came face-to-face, Lance could hear every hacking cough. He could hear every groan of discomfort, every stumble to the bathroom for a glass of water. He could hear it all, and frankly, he was worried, even if he didn’t really know the guy. 

He meant to mind his own business– it’s something Hunk has been berating him about for years, but last night… Last night was, well, quite scary actually. There was more coughing then there was silence, and at one point, Lance was sure he heard the dull thump of a fall, followed by more barking coughs that left Lance wincing while remaining wide awake– just in case. 

After that, he knew he had to do something, so he figured a note– it’s not too pushy but still enough to let the guy know he’s here. 

Here’s a headcanon I’ve been really keen to post for a while. Why? Coz the amazing @edelwary has gifted me with fantastic fanart for it! 

This headcanon came about as I was just thinking about Voltron, as I usually do (far FAR too often), and I was once again considering just how Lance and Keith interacted (if ever). I have had many ideas about this in the past, but I suddenly thought of another, and the following is the result.

Apologies for any mistakes (I literally found three before I posted this)!

Before the cadets were put into certain courses, all of them must have trained for at least several months. Lance was just above average, since although he WAS a good pilot for the majority of the time, his streak of crashing brought down his grade a lot. His teachers had tried to advise him on how to improve, but it was just too technical for Lance to truly understand what he should be changing, whilst they couldn’t afford to allow Lance to monopolise their attention.

At this point, Lance had started to worry about his assignment. No matter how hard he tried, it never seemed to make a difference. He just couldn’t see what was going wrong.

One day, his class’ instructor was on sick leave, so the Garrison decided to merge two classes for the day, thinking that the change might actually be beneficial for the trainees as they could watch others’ mistakes and successes. When Lance discovered it was Keith’s class, he felt equally optimistic. Boy, was he mistaken!

Despite being in completely separate classes, Lance had heard of Keith. Of course he had, he was the shining prodigy of the Garrison. Lance had even managed to occasionally see Keith, though always at a distance, yet his aura had always felt so serious and unapproachable. Lance shook the thought from his head as he caught the end of the instructor’s usual lecture in flying procedures.

Lance had felt an odd mixture of dread and gratitude when it was announced that they would be doing flight simulations. Now was his chance to watch Keith first-hand. He didn’t have to wait long, as after a few mediocre performances from his classmates, the instructor called for Keith to show them what they should be “aiming towards”.

Lance had expected him to be good, but he had also expected the rumours about him to be exaggerated slightly, as rumours often were. They weren’t. Lance wasn’t sure if the praise did him justice. He handled the simulator as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Keith piloted as if the ship was a part of himself, effortlessly pulling off quick, smooth manoeuvres, barely batting an eye at the readings his craft relayed to him. In fact, he barely glanced down at the controls at all, obviously having memorised the entire layout of the simulator. Instead his gaze remained almost entirely locked on the view in front of the ship, eyes darting quickly as he assessed possible dangers. Lance realised with a shock that Keith had to be working out all of the distances in his head since he seemed to barely peek at his sensors.

A gentle elbow in his side caught his attention and he tore his gaze from the monitor to find Hunk, a classmate whom he’d bonded with quickly over the year, attempting to hide a smile.

“You might wanna close your mouth, Lance.” Feeling his cheeks burn, Lance snapped his mouth shut, turning away with absolutely no trace of a pout on his face. None.

The sound of the simulator door opening drew his attention and he watched as Keith waltzed out as if he hadn’t, no doubt, outperformed some of their seniors. Whilst the next cadet was called up, Lance sidled up to Keith, clearing his throat a couple of times to get his attention.

“Can I…help you?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, could you watch my flight and give me some feedback?”

“Um, I don’t know if I can say anything to hel-“

“No, don’t worry! You obviously know your stuff, so this will be a piece of cake!” Lance didn’t notice Keith’s concerned look, nor the uncertain scowl that came across his face as Lance returned to Hunk.

Keith was in an odd position. He’d never been asked to assess someone’s flying before, and was wondering how to go about it when the cadet in question was called up. Before he headed inside the simulator, he turned his head to send Keith a smile. Why had he asked Keith? He was aware that he was top of their year, but he had no experience in advising others, nevermind critiquing them. Yet Keith did watch. He paid more attention than he normally did when he observed his classmates.

At first, Keith was a little confused. The cadet was obviously a competent trainee pilot. His reaction times were good, the time he took to read his sensors and equipment was actually quite a bit less than others in their year. Even his manoeuvring was pretty good, only a couple of close calls and small adjustments needed from time to time. His flying was certainly not textbook, but Keith didn’t think this was much of a problem, seeing as it still produced the same results. Then the last part of the simulation started.

The Garrison put a lot of effort into making sure their simulations weren’t monotonous or predictable. After all, how could cadets improve if they were only learning to fly one course? Until a few years back, the simulation had been changed for every class, but due to Matt Holt’s work on the system, the simulation was now comprised of randomised components of flight courses, which would change for every simulation. Now the cadets that flew last had no advantage from watching their peers’ performances.

Personally, Keith thought that the course was pretty decent this time, that maybe there would be nothing to critique as the course wouldn’t challenge him enough. Apparently it was challenging enough for the cadet, “Lance” the display read, and honestly Keith was lost as to why. Upon starting the final stage, Lance’s control had suddenly become jerky, and Keith watched as Lance focused solely on the screen, not glancing down at all as he had been during the rest of the flight. The most likely reason was so that Lance could judge the distances and dimensions himself, yet his gaze would only focus on the obstacle he was immediately facing. With each obstacle, the time in which he had to react to the next hazard diminished steadily, until at last, the inevitable happened.

Lance clipped a wing on an outcrop, sending his craft in a vicious downward spiral. Keith winced as he watched the short descent. He had only been a few hundred metres in the air. He had been so close.

Keith went over the flight in his head as Lance trudged out of the simulator. Keith hadn’t seen a crash in a long time. Everyone had managed to learn to avoid full collisions after half a year of training. He watched Lance’s shoulders rise up to his ears as he slumped under the assault of the instructor’s criticism. He noted that they didn’t even mention his commendable flying up until the descent. They seemed too distracted by the crash and the awkward movements to mention anything else.

When, with a long-suffering sigh, the instructor dismissed him, Lance nodded politely before quickly merging with the crowd of students. Keith’s attention left the simulator as the next cadet stepped up. What advice could he give Lance? Keith knew what he’d have done differently whilst Lance had been flying; turn slightly sharper in places, decelerate more before doing certain moves. However, when it came down to what Lance had struggled with, the descent for landing, Keith was lost. He had no idea what was running through Lance’s head as he had gradually lost control. Was it panic? Overconfidence? Keith just didn’t know.

Thankfully, Lance didn’t approach him during the rest of the training, giving Keith more time to think over what to say. However, when they were dismissed, he was no closer to an answer than before. Maybe Lance had forgotten. Maybe Keith could get away without embarrassing himself with his inability to help. He knew he should’ve argued more against it.

To Keith’s dismay, as he left the room his gaze found Lance’s as he leant against the wall. His smile was not as bright as it had been earlier, though, given his scolding, that was understandable.

“So,” Lance started, “what do you think?” Keith wished he knew, he really did.

“What happened?” Keith watched as Lance’s brows drew together at his confused tone. Keith hadn’t expected to say it, but honestly, he didn’t know what else he /could/ say. How was he supposed to give advice, when he didn’t understand what went wrong.

“W-What do you mean “what happened”?! Weren’t you watching?”

“Of course I did. I just don’t get why your flying got so bad at the end.” Lance’s eye twitched at Keith’s words.

“If I knew why, I wouldn’t be asking for your help!” Lance retorted before taking a breath. “Look, if you don’t want to help, just say so.”

“It’s not that-“

“Then what is it? Could you see what I’m doing wrong.”

“Well, yes, but-“

“So why won't you tell me how to fix it?”

“It’s not that simple! Like I was saying, I can see what you’re doing wrong, but I don’t know /why/! You started off so well, but suddenly-”

“-What do you mean I “started off well”? Didn’t you hear the instructor?! They said that I couldn’t fly like that!” What? It had looked fine to Keith. Then Keith remembered his thought on how the style of flying was a bit unorthodox. Were the Garrison that strict? Well, when he considered their drills, he mentally scolded himself for ever wondering. Of course they were.

How could he help, then, if the part which he had thought to be good wasn’t right?! Keith had always flown as was taught. After a few months, the movements had become instinctual and now he barely had to think to perform most manoeuvres. He tried to recall how it felt in those first few months, yet he could think of only one way in which he had improved.

“Practice.” He started as he realised he’d spoken out loud again. A jaded laugh brought his attention to Lance’s face. The twisted grimace on his face sent a pain through Keith’s chest, and then Lance was walking away, long legs quickly carrying him down the corridor. “Where are you going?!”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time!” Lance’s tone was devoid of its previous friendliness. What? “Obviously I just haven’t been trying hard enough if practice is all I need to get better,” Lance turned his head, not enough to make eye contact, but enough for Keith to watch his mouth as he continued. “Thanks, Kogane.”

“Listen to the teachers! They know how to help you!” Better than Keith did, anyhow. Again, another laugh sounded as Lance approached the corner.

“Another novel idea! Why did I never think of this myself?!” Then he was gone.

Keith stood there for a few more moments, his surprise and frustration with Lance shocking him into freezing. Then he turned and stalked off to his quarters, feeling bizarrely exhausted despite having done nothing strenuous. Why wouldn’t Lance just /listen/ to him?! He was just trying to help. He had warned him he didn’t know how.

Keith shook his head. At this rate, he’d never be able to rest. He firmly shoved all thoughts of Lance and his flying to the back of his mind. He had other things to worry about than a cadet he had only just met. As Keith found out over the following months, this was easier said than done.

At first, Keith thought he was doing a good job of forgetting his encounter with Lance, except, every time he thought as such, he’d groan as his thoughts circled back to him. Occasionally, he swore he heard his classmates mention Lance, which wouldn’t surprise him as crashes had been so rare since the aspiring engineers and technicians had stopped their pilot training.

There was nothing wrong with Keith thinking about Lance. Nothing, but he still wished he could stop. Eventually, through stubborn determination, Keith managed to put the encounter out of his mind, and his life carried on in the Garrison as it had before.

However, when his instructors started commenting on a change in his flying, Keith became concerned. They assured him it was fine, that is was a sign of his natural affinity for flying. Yet, when he watched his simulation back, the style of his flying was noticeably different, yet strangely familiar. He knew that flying, and yet it wasn’t his style. He had never attempted something so different from what he was taught. Turns out that the Garrison really didn’t know best. Still, Keith felt restless with the knowledge that he had /seen/ that pattern of flight before, but he was unable to recall to whom it belonged.

He started watching his classmates, and yet none showed any signs of the new style he’d adopted, but if it hadn’t been anyone in his class… Keith’s eyes widened as the memory of the joint training came back. He struggled to recall the cadet, but his features remained stubbornly blurry in Keith’s mind. Damn his bad memory!

As he was walking, he heard a commotion ahead and he looked to discover a crowd gathered around the notice board. Someone near the back took pity on Keith and explained that the results for the pilot assignments were announced that day. Keith turned to walk away, having been informed of his new fighter pilot status by his instructor that day, when he stopped. Striding back he struggled to the front, ignoring the complaints as he squeezed through. He traced his eyes over the list of fighter pilot names. Although he didn’t know the name he was looking for, he was certain he’d be able to recognise it.

Just as he was giving up hope, someone shoved him from behind. He fell against the board, catching himself on his arms and was just about to glare at whoever had pushed him, when his gaze locked onto a name beside him. Lance McClain. He straightened up and looked to find that it was on the list of cargo pilots. He grimaced in sympathy as his memory of Lance’s desire to improve came back. He wished he could’ve helped somehow.

Now that his irritation had worn off, he only felt annoyed with his incompetency. He should’ve tried to word his thoughts better, but…maybe…. If he could help Lance now, he might stand a chance of moving up to fighter class training. Maybe then Lance wouldn’t have to face him with such a cold attitude. Thus, whenever he had a few hours to spare, Keith would go to the records room to request to watch the footage of Lance’s simulations. He was eternally grateful for the officer not asking him any questions about his odd choice of footage.

At first, it seemed like Keith might be wasting his time, as he continued to puzzle over Lance’s odd behaviour. Then, slowly, it started to come together. He originally had thought it might have to do with Lance’s perception of the depths shown in the display, because no matter how brilliant the simulation was, it still didn’t feel quite real. After all, they were trying to create an illusion of distance on a flat monitor.

Then, as he noticed the timing of Lance’s reactions, he realised that was not the case. Instead he finally thought he recognised the problem. Now he just wanted to know for certain, so he held back from approaching Lance until he watched more footage.

In the end, however, Keith never went to him. For a week later, the Garrison officially declared the failure of the Kerberos mission, and Lance was swept from his mind under the maelstrom of emotions the news churned up. In the end, he couldn’t cope.

Keith started rebelling, since the Garrison /had/ to be lying. There was no way Shiro would just disappear from Keith’s life like that. Despite his constant demands to see evidence that the passengers were no longer out there, they had refused to release any further information. So Keith had to make them admit the truth. Except, in his volatile state, Keith failed to recognise the consequences his actions would have. He paid for his lack of insight with his place in the Garrison.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t want anything more to do with the Garrison. He completely forgot about the cadet he had wanted to help. The cadet whom he had believed had potential to be a great pilot. He forgot until, almost two years later, someone barged in on his rescue mission.

He held back his exclamation of “Lance!”, realising that he had no idea that Keith had actually paid him any attention after their first, and only, encounter. Instead he played dumb, only acknowledging his cargo pilot status. He felt awful for forgetting about Lance, especially after finally working out how to help solve his problem. However, as Lance corrected Keith, informing him that he was in fact a fighter pilot because of Keith’s expulsion, he found himself sagging slightly in relief. At least he had still been able to make it. Obviously Lance /had/ trained hard over the past two years to become good enough for him to be the pilot to move up in class.

“So, wait a sec. You’ve remembered our first meeting this whole time?! Why did you never say?! I just thought you'd forgotten about that day.” Keith cleared his throat, feeling extremely awkward after the confession.

“I didn’t think we got off to a good start, so I was hoping that by acting ignorant we would be able to start over.”

“Only for me to hold a grudge… I mean I /would/ apologise, except you hadn’t really given me a reason to believe you had actually cared about me. Ah! Not /cared/, just… at least regret what you'd said,” Lance quickly muttered.

“Yeah, sorry about that, but I really wasn’t used to social interactions,” Keith admitted with a quiet laugh.

“No kidding!” Lance’s smirk forced the corner of Keith’s annoyed pout to twitch upwards. Damn his infectious smiles. “Hey, wait! You mentioned that you actually worked out why I kept crashing. What was it? You never said.”

“Oh, you just couldn’t visualise the craft.” At Lance’s blank look, Keith rushed to elaborate. “I noticed that you wouldn’t rely on your equipment to figure out distances, instead relying on your sight. Then I realised that most of the crashes were caused by you clipping one or more of the wings. I wondered whether, despite the fact we learnt the dimensions of the craft the simulator was imitating, you didn’t actually realise how big it was. For example, if I said to point out the length of twelve metres along that wall, would you be able to do it?” Slowly Lance shook his head, and his eyes widened as he started to catch on what Keith was saying.

“So, what you’re saying is…”

“Because you had never /seen/ how big the craft was, you couldn’t actually work out how much space it would need inside the simulation.”

“I can't believe it was something so simple. Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now that we’re flying for real! Which reminds me…” The glint in Lance’s eyes felt incredibly foreboding. “I’m never gonna let you forget that I was a better pilot than you!”

“…what? You barely ever got through a simulation without crashing!”

“But, like you said, that wasn’t because I didn’t have skills. No, you definitely admitted that when you copied my flying, the instructor complimented your technique, or rather /my/ technique! They thought /my/ technique was better! Oh, this is just great!”

“Wait a second! I never said I copied you! I just adapted my own sty-“

“Nope! You cannot deny it! I am the better pilot!”

“Oh? Wanna bet?” The two had now stood up, Keith’s arms crossed over his chest whilst Lance leaned into his space, his hands resting on his hips.

From the other side of the room, the green and yellow paladins watched with varying degrees of exasperation.

“Weren’t they supposed to be bonding?” Pidge asked as she looked up at Hunk.

“What do you mean? This /is/ how they bond.” Pidge opened her mouth to state just how bizarre that sounded when she stopped to think for a second. She sighed as she realised the truth behind Hunk’s words.

“I’m not sure if they can ever have a conversation without it ended up with them arguing.” Hunk nodded solemnly in agreement, and with one last look at the two who had begun to arm wrestle, for whatever reason, as they argued on, the two of them left the red and blue paladins to their antics.

Fin.

Aaaaaand there you go! I hope you enjoyed it! Please check out @edelwary‘s art (for this headcanon, and just their art in general) because I really love it and think more people should get to see their work!

I have a million prompts in my inbox, but here I am writing this instead...

College AU, Pre-Klance

Summary: Cancelled classes = ice sliding and bruises

Word Count: 2,008

Keith would be lying if he said he isn’t slightly annoyed as he slips his boots on over thick, wool socks. He had plans to spend the surprise free day curled up under multiple blankets in bed with a textbook, but Lance had messaged him, pulling him from the comfort and warmth of his bed with a "come outside ASAP" message.

He could have ignored this easily, but he knows Lance would have persisted with multiple texts before coming to their shared dorm and dragging him outside, whether he was dressed appropriately or not. So, it's better, Keith thinks, to blow the fire out gently by meeting Lance's request as opposed to fanning the flame with resistance.

Outside, the wind is freezing, and snow is still fluttering down, as it has been all night. Keith shivers despite the added layers he packed on and fishes his phone from his pocket to call Lance, because 'outside' could literally be anywhere. Squinting, he cups one hand over his eyes for the snow is borderline blinding to his tired eyes. The other hand presses his phone against his ear, and he looks and waits, listening to the ring-back tone of some current song Keith doesn't know.

After a minute, Keith hears Lance answer with a loud "Hey!" that echoes close by. Frowning, he pulls the phone away and looks to the right to see Lance racing toward him from the resident lot.

"You've gotta come see this!" Lance shouts as he stops beside Keith and drapes a cold arm over his shoulders.

Shuddering, Keith shrugs Lance's arm away and spares a side glance to see Lance's rosy cheeks and red-rimmed nose. "How long have you been out here?"

"All morning," Lance says with a wide smile, voice borderline breathless. "Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro were here earlier, but Hunk and Shiro had to go to work, and Pidge went in because she was too cold."

Nodding, Keith crosses his arms, feeling cold himself despite only being out for a few minutes. While Lance looks cold, he isn't acting like it, leaving Keith arching his brows slightly as the two walk. Lance always boasts about how he's from 'the most tropical place in the universe,' so Keith's honestly surprised that the brunet isn't complaining about the biting wind and single-digit temperatures.

When they reach the resident lot, Lance motions with a wide wave toward the ice-slick pavement. "Look at it!"

With furrowed brows, Keith toes an edge, boot sliding instantly. "You made me come outside to show me ice?"

"No," Lance starts with a laugh. "I made you come outside to show you this!" He gets a running start before sliding across the ice, hands waving about on either side for balance as he skids all the way across the lot until he latches onto the back of Keith's truck to stop himself.

"Impressive," Keith calls out dryly as Lance bellows with laughter.

"Try it!"

@vldwhumpmas2017

College AU: Pre-Klance

When Keith pulls up to his dorm around two am after a long shift at work, he doesn't expect to see everyone in his building standing around as firemen filter in and out of the wide double doors in full gear. Tired dread burns Keith's core as he pulls into a spot and hops out of his truck. Frigid, biting air whips at his face as he crosses his arm and approaches the scattered groups of students, all looking frozen and miserable.

"What happened?" Keith asks some boy who's on his floor.

"Someone left a straightener on and caught their comforter on fire."

Rolling his eyes, Keith crosses his arms as another sharp breeze forces a shiver up his spine.

"How long have you guys been out here?"

"A fucking hour."

A wince pulls against Keith's face as he turns to scan tired eyes across the many shivering students. "Have you seen Lance?" Lance-- his loud roommate who keeps pulling him in with a charming smile and enticing eyes.

"Over there."

Keith follows the boy's gaze to see Lance sitting at a curb and hunched over. His eyes blow out wide when he takes in Lance's bare chest and bare legs, with only a pair of basketball shorts and slippers on.

"Shit," Keith breathes out, already shrugging out of his coat as he maneuvers around students to get to Lance. When he approaches, his lips pull into an impossibly deep frown as he takes in the rapid, aggressive shivers that have Lance shaking hard.

"Hey," Keith says as he crouches down to drape his coat around Lance's shoulders.

Lance pulls his face up from where he's had it buried against his chest just as Keith tugs the jacket tightly around to cover Lance's chest.

"Didn't think to put more clothes on?" Keith asks. He meant for his tone to come off as light-hearted, almost teasing, but concern weighs heavy along his voice as his fingers brush against icy skin.

"N-no time," Lance chatters, breaths clouding out in stuttering puffs as he fumbles to keep the jacket closed around him. "T-there was-- f-fire--"

"I know," Keith says, taking a spot beside Lance and draping a strong arm around the boy's back to add what little warmth he can provide. "Hopefully we can go back in soon."

"Y-yeah. H-hopefully."

*****

It's another ten minutes before Keith is pulling a half-frozen Lance up the stairs and to their dorm. Lance, Keith can tell, is trying his hardest to cooperate, but his movements are sluggish and unsteady, as if walking on a floor of jello, and he's slow to respond to Keith's hushed orders.

Keith's no doctor, but years of binging survival documentaries tell him Lance's condition isn't good. At all. Lance's skin almost burns Keith's fingers, but Keith keeps a steady grip to Lance's arm as the two enter their dorm.

Immediately, Keith is shoving Lance into his bed and piling both Lance's and his own blankets on top of the shivering brunet.

"Y-you d-dont have to-" Lance tries as Keith tucks one of his own blankets tightly around Lance, but Keith cuts him off with a gruff "shut up" before flying out of the room to their shared bathroom for the thermometer.

"I'm n-not sick," Lance tries, but Keith ignores him in favor or popping the thermometer into Lance's ear.

"I know," Keith says, gnawing on his lower lip as he waits for the instrument to beep.

"T-then why-"

The device beeping cuts Lance off, and Keith quickly steals a glance to the 95.2 degrees reading with a sharp hiss.

"You're hypothermic," Keith says, voice thick with panicked concern as he shows Lance the reading before he straightens himself and reaches to pull his shirt over his head.

"A-and you s-stripping is going t-to help?"

Keith ignores this in favor of slipping his work pants off, and he works hard not to blush at the stuttered gasp that follows.

"K-Keith, what-"

"Body heat," Keith supplies as he climbs into Lance's bed despite the sputtering brunet.

"Keith! W-wait! What!?"

"Your temperature is too low," Keith says plainly despite his burning cheeks. "Body heat will help." He situates himself with his back resting against the headboard and motions for Lance to lie onto his chest.

Lance is slow to oblige, but once his icy skin meets Keith's warm skin, he pushes as close to Keith as anatomy will allow despite the sharp hiss from Keith.

"You're literally freezing," Keith manages out between his teeth as he adjusts the blankets around the two.

"S-sorry," Lance mutters, voice muffled against Keith's skin as he nuzzles his icy nose against the crook of Keith's neck.

"Don't apologize. Just get warm."

A shaky sigh slips through Lance's lips, and he nods, hair brushing Keith's jawline.

@vldwhumpmas2017

Okay so majority wanted either Keith or Lance. Well, as I like to say, why not both??

College AU: Pre-Klance

(Tw: Car Accident)

Keith can't see much, not with the snow whipping against his windshield in blinding sheets. He takes to the road slowly, cautiously, squinting as he hunches over the wheel as if attempting to cut through the snow with a sharp gaze. His knuckles are white from a deathly tight grip around the wheel, and he just barely presses down on the gas, going a safe 30 mph.

Despite poor visibility, he can make out a few signs pointing toward his college. A breath of relief slips from tightly pressed lips, and then he feels a large jolt, hears a loud crunch, and jerks to the side-- everything going black almost instantly.

*****

Lance is scrambling out of his car the second he makes impact. His wrist is twisted in a frightening way after having gotten caught in the wheel from frantic turning to avoid collision. His heart is practically leaping out of his throat, he's shaking hard, both from shock and the icy wind, but all he cares about is getting to the other driver.

He holds his uninjured hand up to shield his eyes from the bitter wind and snow as he stumbles toward the other car. He's legs tremble and buckle with each step, but he makes it, breath catching in his throat as he spots Keith from the floor above him leaning lifeless against the driver side's window, with cracked, spiderwebbed glass that's littered with pricks of blood circling Keith's head.

"Shit," Lance mutters before stumbling toward the passenger side. Thankfully, his car hit more on the back then the front, so he's able to pry the passenger door open with some force.

"Keith!"

At his name, Keith's eyes snap open, and for a moment, he can't see much of anything for his surroundings look as if he's floating under murky water. But, he can still hear his name-- it sounds faint, but it's growing louder with every blink.

"Keith, buddy, you gotta wake up!" Lance is climbing across the passenger seat to get to Keith, not even able to feel the pain of his wrist thanks to heightened adrenaline.

The shouting is only further aggravating the pounding in Keith's temples. He wants it to stop, but the person sounds panicked, close. Slowly, he looks over to see Lance from school staring at him-- deep blue irises impossibly large.

"Lance?"

"Thank God," Lance mutters before climbing out of the car. "Hang on!" He shouts, racing around the car to get back to the driver's side. He slips twice, using his injured hand to steady himself both times, but he can't feel much except overwhelming relief that Keith isn't dead. When he gets to the door, he opens it slowly, cautiously, dropping to a crouch the second he gets it open all the way.

A wince pulls at his face when he catches sight of the deep purple bruise splayed across Keith's temple and down toward his eye. "Keith," Lance says again, voice taking on a pleading tone once more.

Keith is slow to respond. He can hear Lance, but he can't get his muscles to move fast. He turns toward the brunet, squinting down when he feels a slight pressure on his thigh. He sees a tan hand that's triple in size and colored light purple and yellow. A frown tugs at the corners of his lips as he slowly pulls his gaze to meet Lance's.

"... your hand.."

Ignoring this, Lance reaches up with his good hand, gentle fingers ghosting the bruise along Keith's head. "I think you're concussed."

"M'not."

The sloppy slur is enough of an answer for Lance. He's just reaching for Keith's phone when he hears it-- a faint echo of a siren that flutters along the sharp wind. The seconds to follow bring flashing lights, and Lance isn't sure who called-- probably someone from the store next door-- but his shoulders slump with relief, and his good hand clutches tightly to Keith's coat as the ambulance pulls into sight.

*****

Sound comes back first for Keith, with a persistent beeping sound interrupting his sleep. His memory is foggy; he remembers being slowly moved from his car, but after that, all he can recall is cold darkness.

He's slow to open his eyes, wincing at the light with each drop and rise of heavy lids.

"Keith?"

The voice is so soft, so cautious. Keith lets his gaze drift slowly to the left to see Lance in a chair beside his bed. His gaze drops to the bandaged hand.

"Your hand-"

"My wrist is broken, but it's okay." Lance finishes, tugging weakly at the blanket draped around his shoulders with his free hand. He fiddles with the corner of the blanket as his gaze plummets to the floor.

"Listen, Keith. I'm so sorry. I hit a patch of black ice and just lost control, and now you're here with a concussion, and it's my fault. I just-- I'm sorry."

Concussion.... That, Keith thinks, would explain why his head is throbbing. That would also explain why he can't remember much of anything. A deep sigh deflates his chest as he weakly reaches one hand to Lance's knee.

"It's not your fault." His words come out slow, and his voice holds a deep croak, but otherwise, his sentence is clear.

"It is-"

"It's. Not."

Lance's shoulders slump, and he lets his hand fall to his lap. "I should have been more careful."

"It could have happened to anyone," Keith argues. He doesn't know Lance too well, but the brunet's guilt is filling the room as a suffocating pressure. "Lance, really, it's not your fault."

Lance wordlessly gets to his feet in reply. He cradles his injured wrist to his chest as he starts toward the door. "I'm going to tell a nurse that you're awake." He pulls the door open, only to freeze when he hears the weak call of his name.

Slowly, he moves his gaze to look at Keith, who is propped up on one elbow.

"You'll come back, yeah?"

Whoops... I’m gonna combine again. Sorry @vldwhumpmas2017 but thanks for putting up with my crap, lol

Day 7: Allergic Reaction; Day 8: Mental Health Day 

College AU: Pre-Klance 

Anxiety is like a pesky fly that’s trapped inside a room, or so, that’s how Keith sees it. It comes to him so rapidly and pesters him before disappearing, allowing Keith just enough time to drop his guard before it returns with a vengeance. Most days, Keith can handle it; it’s become almost a normal feeling that he’s worked to adapt to, yet sometimes, it’s too much. 

Sometimes, it’s a hot spike that boils his blood and leaves him seeing red. Sometimes it’s two cold hands squeezing his lungs until he’s doubled over searching for a breath. And sometimes, like today for example, it’s a locked, enclosed space, leaving him feeling trapped and alone. 

He tells Shiro-- he tells Shiro everything-- and Shiro suggests a mental health day. Keith’s reluctant, but Shiro tells him to go to the park and relax, to spend the day in an open space with a warm spring breeze and a wide sky that stretches for miles on end. 

Shiro’s always had a way with words, Keith thinks as he emails his professors to tell them he’s feeling unwell and is taking a day off from class. He closes his laptop and doesn’t look back. 

Outside is the honest definition of a spring day. The sky is a light blue with large fluffy clouds slowly drifting along an easy breeze. The trees are coming to life after a harsh winter, and flowers are popping up in rows. It’s too nice to drive, so he walks the ten minutes from his dorm to the local park. 

The park has a track framed with trees and flower beds that wraps around it, and in the center lies a massive fountain that shoots out water into an arch every so many seconds. Keith flops down onto an open patch of grass beside the fountain. He locks his fingers behind his head and heaves out a deep sigh as lazy eyes watch the clouds roll across the sky. 

Above him lies an open, endless space, and he focuses on it, mentally pushing out of the locked box he’s been tossed into until his muscles are visibly relaxing. His eyes flutter closed, and he soaks in the serene atmosphere until he feels a sharp pinch on his arm. 

His eyes snap open, and his gaze shifts to see a wasp staring back at him before zooming away, leaving a swollen, angry welt behind. Hissing, Keith sits up and inspects the sting. It hurts, and he prods at it, wincing at the shooting pain that jerks up his arm. 

He’s about to lie back down when he feels it-- a lump growing in his throat. He coughs, once, twice, to clear it, but with a sudden, heightened panic, he realizes nothing’s happening. One, shaking hand finds his throat as he struggles to take in breaths. He coughs and coughs, but he can’t suck in any air. His chest is wheezing with the poor attempts, and he can feel the thump of his heart beating so hard against his neck that it may burst out. 

Panic explodes across his chest as his surroundings begin to spin, slowly at first but growing faster with each second. His mind whirls with it, so much that he’s unable to see who is suddenly crouched in front of him. He can make out a flash of dark blue, but then he feels a second stab. 

For a brief moment, he thinks he’s being attacked-- figures he would be taken advantage of when he’s most vulnerable. But, his surroundings begin to still, and he’s able to suck a large gulp of air in, and another, and another, until he can breathe and see the person before him, who is holding an EpiPen. 

“Lance?” Keith gasps out, chest still heaving as he sucks in large gasps. “From Biology?” 

“Keith,” Lance parrots back. “Step brother of Shiro who is apparently allergic to wasp stings.” 

Keith shakes his head, body still slightly trembling from the ordeal. “I didn’t know; I’ve never been stung.” 

“You’re lucky I was here and prepared, then.” 

Keith blinks at Lance and tilts his head slightly. “You just carry EpiPens around with you?” 

“I have a friend who’s allergic to what feels like everything. I like to be prepared.” 

Nodding, Keith swallows thickly and brings one hand up to rub at the back of his head. “Well, thanks. I owe you one.” 

“Great,” Lance starts, latching slender fingers around Keith’s wrist and jerking Keith to his feet.

“What the fuck, Lance?” 

“You can start paying me back by accompanying me to the hospital.” 

Keith’s trying to rip his hand back from Lance, but the brunet is surprisingly strong, and he stumbles after him with a sigh. “I don’t need-” 

“Then, once you’re cleared, you can treat me to lunch.” Lance interrupts, and his tone leaves Keith speechless.