WHO: Lance & Keith WHEN: Early morning, Friday, August 24 WHERE: Bedroom of their place in Bluebonnet Village WHAT: Keith and Lance wake up with new memories and some physical changes. (also, hello everyone from Keith's new journal) WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 7 of Voltron. Shirtless boys in bed. Talk of injuries and battles. General feels.
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Waking up from this onslaught of memories oddly proved easier than the last. The general feel of the memories was more intense than the last burst. More of them. A lot more of them. More action. More battles. Just more everything. But the end of it… that calm after the storm… That transferred easily to blinking his eyes open. Lying in a bed to lying in a bed. But this room quieter. No TV sounding in the background. Not as bright and sterile. No people waiting by his bedside. Instead…
Despite the ache in his head that felt like more than just being too full with new memories, he nuzzled his face into the brunette hair of the boy in bed with him. There were those same conflicting memories and thoughts like the last round of memories, but this moment, right here, right now, grounded him. The familiar warmth. The familiar combination scent of various beauty products. Just in bed. Safe and sound after everything. And his. Now that was something he could easily focus on despite the aches and pains.
Nudging hair away until he found Lance’s temple, he brushed his lips against skin before shifting so he could get a better vantage point to watch from as he traced his fingers lightly over the other boy’s features, checking to make sure that he was actually right about that whole ‘safe and sound’ thing.
There was a breath let out as Lance stirred slightly. His mind was wading through the murk of something similar -- caught between the present and a memory. His body ached as he moved to try and prop himself up, but he could feel Keith beside him. The line of Keith’s finger along his jaw prompted Lance to open his eyes. Partly because if his mind was still addled, then that touch could easily be a concerned mother’s. His own mother, who had been at his bedside after their last Voltron battle.
But it wasn’t a room full of his family that met his eyes. Just Keith.
Lance focused on the other boy’s jaw. The darker mark standing out against Keith’s tan skin answered more than enough questions. Lance raised a hand and patted it with open fingers. “Oh, it’s the cooler, older, more grizzled you. Nice.”
Keith raised an eyebrow as Lance’s focus dropped, but what had gotten the other boy’s attention was answered quick enough. He winced a little at the pat, because ok, yeah, that was definitely a non-memory dump related headache. And then Lance’s words.
An amused snort escaped, even as confusion settled on his face. “Am I?” He hadn’t considered that. They’d had that experience with Shiro, sure, but their last times with this had only been memories. He hadn’t anticipated that something other than his memories had changed, but that obviously wasn’t the case considering it was all too obvious with where Lance was focusing. It also explained a few things like how his left arm felt pinched and awkward.
But then, again, Lance’s words… Blowing out a soft sigh, he searched Lance’s face, assessing the situation. “You too?”
Lance’s hand dropped to the mattress and he closed his eyes again for a moment. He’d been through a memory update before, and he knew what it felt like. There wasn’t any denying that something had work its way to both him and Keith last night. The only upside was that most of the memories came with relief. The team was going to be fine. He knew his family was safe. There was a good chance that Voltron and its allies were going to pull through in the end.
“Yeah, me too,” Lance replied, voice a little drowsy despite trying to rustle himself awake. He leveraged his upper body on one arm and shoved himself up to half sitting. It was easier to get a view of Keith from here. Funny thing about the memories: he knew Keith had done a fair amount of growing, but there was a difference between seeing that through the Blade of Marmora suit, the paladin armor, or the Galaxy Garrison uniform and then seeing it in a tank top. An inquisitive finger reached out and prodded at Keith’s chest. Solid.
“And, yeah… yeah, you are. Geez.”
The reply didn’t surprise Keith. Just that whole older, cooler, more grizzled was enough to tip him off, but confirmation was still good. Maybe? There was still so many questions there. How much more Lance remembered. How far his memories went compared to his own. What that meant? That should probably be talked about.
And yet… He couldn’t help the amused smile at the poking. Situations had been too dire when he’d come back to the team from the Altean colony, but if they hadn’t been, man, he would’ve poked fun at just how much Lance had fumbled over the two years of growth. He leaned flat back in the mattress, adding to the ‘ogling’ space. His nose scrunched up at the movement though as the shift just brought to focus how not well everything was fitting right now.
“If you’re not careful, you’re gonna start drooling more than my wolf, Lance,” he teased.
Well, that barely helped. Keith lounging back turned Lance’s cheeks a shade redder, although he made the executive decision to coil his leg up so he could hug his knees for some support. “Hey, listen --” But there wasn’t much lined up in Lance’s mind to defend himself. He had practically gotten up in Keith’s face about his newer physique, but, like… look at it.
Lance reached out of a foot to poke Keith’s side. “You’re not playing fair,” he finished with a faint rasp as the motion flared an aggravated bruise. “And Kosmo’s a good boy who doesn’t drool that much at all. So, like, really that isn’t even a challenge.”
There was a short pause. “You… remember getting home, right?”
A pleased smirk quirked his lips as Keith reached out to capture that foot, his grip loose and tender around Lance’s ankle. His thumb rubbed over his ankle bone as he rolled his eyes. “I’m just me,” he pointed out. Ok, so maybe he also put his free arm over his head. For totally unrelated reasons obviously and not to stretch some of those muscles that kept distracting Lance. “You also haven’t fed him and slept with him every night for years. That is a definite challenge.”
Which was a better conversation than where that next question led. His expression sombered as he paused and then started to nod slowly before he hissed at the headache flaring at the motion. “Yeah… I remember. You?”
“No, but Kaltenecker is my best girl, and I think that’s gotta count for something,” Lance volleyed back. But the mood was shifting, and even the humor was getting harder to support when there was a bigger question looming. Lance rolled his ankle around slightly, then let his foot rest against Keith.
“Yeah. Sendak and everything. I thought for a second -- I thought maybe this was just the bed at the Garrison, but if my nephews and niece were around, I’d probably have one jump on me right when I was soundly asleep. Which, thanks by the way for not filling in for them. I think my ribs couldn’t take any more of that. Ow.” There was a small smile on Lance’s face, but it flitted away. “Makes you miss the healing pods, huh?”
His smile turned fond as Keith watched Lance. That part wasn’t in his memories, but he could picture it. Picture it easily now that he had his own memories of all these people that Lance talked about. And considering how they’d latched on to Lance when they arrived at the Garrison, imagining them jumping on the other boy was simple. “There’s still time,” he teased softly. “Complain about it some more and Coran might think it’s a hint.”
He breathed out a heavy breath as he closed his eyes. “I thought the same… but you’re a nicer image to wake up to than Kolivan…” His brow furrowed even as his eyes stayed closed. “Is it… is it physical for you too?” If he inspected Lance closely enough, he was certain he could know for sure, but there wasn’t the same obvious signs like he’d gained over his time.
“Oh, thanks,” Lance answered, one brow arching at Keith. Nothing against Kolivan, but it felt like a low bar being set if you wanted to talk about a pretty face. But there was a hint in there that Lance picked up on: Kolivan must have been with him in the aftermath. That was good. It meant he wasn’t alone.
“And either you rolled onto me last night, or… yeah. Yeah, I think whatever that was zapped me good this time.” There was a second of silence, then Lance tugged at the sleeve of his shirt to check his shoulder. Most of the telltale signs were little scars, but the one on his right side was definitely a newer, pink scar. That wasn’t there yesterday. Well, yesterday in this world. He rubbed over it with a finger, brow crinkling. “That’s freaky.” His eyes cracking open, Keith frowned as his eyes focused intently on Lance. Pushing himself up to sitting slowly, his fingers joined Lance’s. Freaky was the right word for it. Especially… it was that weird disconnect again, wasn’t it? They went to bed one way and woke up another. But it also wasn’t another. He remembered the two years growing. Remembered getting the mark on his face. They were the status quo and yet also weren’t… At least in their own minds… Any of the non-obvious scars that appeared would be new to each other though, right? It’s not like they got opportunities to see that much skin in their travels…
Concern furrowing his brow, he settled down seated next to Lance and tugged at the bottom of Lance’s shirt. “C’mon. Off.”
Not following along because he was lost in his own head, Lance looked up to Keith, then down to the tugging. There was a side look, then Lance cleared his throat. “Right now?”
Keith frowned, his head tilting in confusion. “What other time would it be?” he pointed out as he gave the shirt another tug to emphasize the words. Because, what else could he possibly mean? He was trying to pull the shirt off now, why would there be a wait between? “Yeah, right now.”
“I don’t know. I--” But the tugging stoppered Lance’s further remarks. He heaved a sigh, then carefully shrugged the shirt off, careful to not reach too far with his bruised side. And he wasn’t sure what Keith was expecting, honestly. Every paladin had their share of battle scars. The large scar on Lance’s back had been earned much earlier, but it was joined by smaller ones lacing around his arms, chest, stomach. There were scrapes and cuts. Bruises of varying shades. It wasn’t any shocking thing after what he’d been through according to his new memories, but it was definitely proof that the update had been more than a mental one.
“I dunno what you’re worried about. See? Everything missed the face,” Lance added, giving a quick flourish towards his visage with one hand.
Keith gently helped, but considering he wasn’t sure where any injuries might’ve been, he didn’t pull or yank at the piece of clothing. His eyes moved over the exposed skin, tracing from one bruise and scar to the next. Yeah, freaky was the right word for it. The newer injuries, there was some sense to them. None of them came out of that last battle unscathed. Worry bubbled up over them, but nothing looked too bad. It was the older scars though that caused his brain to skip in processing a moment. Something that healed months ago. Just more disconnect.
He reached out to brush his fingers against one, but hesitated mid-motion for a second. Just a second, but it put a hitch in the otherwise smooth moment. “We can’t all start having facial marks,” he joked, though he wasn’t fully engaged in the words. “Team can only have at most two at a time in the lions.”
Lance caught the slight stall, but he could tell Keith was trying to put on some sort of braver outlook. “It’s all you and Shiro, don’t worry.” He dipped his focus for a moment, down to some fainter lines along his arms. A memory surfaced of throwing himself and Red in front of a radiation wave and the searing pain that followed. Allura’s magic had healed him, but the evidence of it was still visible if you knew where to look.
But that wasn’t important right now. Lance reached up to grasp Keith’s outstretched hand. “Alright, your turn. I know how you work with all the stabby stuff and close quarters combat,” he told Keith, giving a similar tug at the hem of the now too-tight tank top he was wearing.
“‘m not done…” Keith mumbled as he turned his hand to lace with Lance’s a moment, turning the arm to better inspect it. Each new scar felt like a needle in his chest, not so much because Lance had been hurt, but that he didn’t know how. He couldn’t even guess which lined up to what mission. Which missions had been bad for him. Which ones hadn’t even warranted a scratch. It hurt in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
Even as he lingered though, he didn’t take too long to follow the order. His free hand went to the bottom of his tank top to pull it up. Although the process was longer than it should’ve been between the twitches of the mechanical hand and the stretch of the fabric not leaving much wiggle room. Eventually the tank top was peeled off. Only then did he let go of Lance’s hand so he could shuck it off completely. He’d have the passing thought of whether they’d maybe missed a physical change before on the cruise ship, but catching sight of the familiar scar slicing across his side quickly proved that theory wrong. That scar would’ve been there already if they’d physically changed. There were other smaller scars from his Blade missions, but that one was the most noticeable.
“Pretty sure the worst injury’s not under the shirt,” he breathed out.
Lance’s attention was pinned on the angriest of the scars. There were plenty others and a similar network of scrapes and angry, red patches -- at least they matched in that sense. Maybe that was a silver lining.
Keith’s words made Lance look up, some alarm building in his eyes as he tried to parse through that meaning. “Like internal injuries? Like… your legs? Listen, if we need to go get someone who knows doctor stuff, then I’ll go get someone.”
Keith reached up and cupped Lance’s cheek in an attempt to derail that growing panic. Understandable, but last thing he needed as the other boy going into a tizzy over this. “No more doctors,” he murmured. “I’m ok, Lance. Just still on the mend.”
His hand tracing lightly down Lance’s, he lifted the other Paladin’s hand to lightly press the boy’s fingers against his temple. “Finally found something that could get through my thick skull, I guess. Woke up in the middle of the memorial they had on TV.”
Lance’s brows were still knitted at the touch, but he nodded and relaxed slightly. And when his hand was brought into contact with Keith’s temple, he felt a tug on his string of understanding. It wasn’t any shock that a knock to the head was thrown into the mix. They had really taken a beating in that last fight. It was a wonder they were even alert and coherent.
“Yeah -- we had the TV on, too. That’s the last thing I remember. Shiro giving a speech, right?” Lance could feel his back protesting the awkward lean of his body. He pressed down into the bed with his free hand to scoot back against the headboard area of the bed. “You sure you’re good?” he asked again, not wanting to baby Keith, but knowing the other boy could downplay things plenty.
Keith shifted too, to stay close and, well, Lance had the right idea of getting more comfortable really. He nodded slowly, just enough to get the idea across without jostling his head too much. “I remember parts of it. And… a little time after, but…” He puffed out an aggravated sigh. “Bed rest.”
With the panic averted, his focus drifted downwards to continue his cataloging of Lance’s injuries, both the fully healed and fresh new ones. “I’m good,” he said as he traced his fingers along a scar. “Just need to take it easy.” He snorted. “Although I don’t think getting your head jammed full with memories really fits that ‘don’t think too hard’ part of recovering.”
“Bed rest? Oh, wow, it has to be serious if you’re telling me. I mean, now I have no other option but to make sure you stay resting in bed,” Lance replied, and although Keith wasn’t paying attention, he couldn’t help a smirk. In the face of something bigger and more serious, this felt like at least a little icebreaker.
Lance looped his arm around Keith as he moved in closer. There was a more sober exhale as he stared ahead at the interior of his Castle of Lions bedroom. Back home, this wouldn’t even exist now. There was an ache for that. Moreso, there was a pause as he thought over Keith’s return to new memories. “Hey… we’re good, right?”
Keith snorted in amusement. “You, in bed, and me resting don’t go together,” he pointed out, even if their current situation contradicted that. But the teasing had to be made even with how often bed just meant lying around and snuggling.
At least in bed here in this universe… The movement of his hand hitched again with that blip of hesitation the question caused. Just nudging those doubts he had before that memory him thought he’d mostly gotten over, but now… The level of doubt depended what he focused on. Cling to the fact that Lance was here with him now or sink into that awkward distance that years apart created. Because that was a growing issue, wasn’t it? One that started before either of them even remembered it. You ran away. Just more of that disconnect that itched at his nerves. Memories of leaving, being away, reuniting, and everything that came with that, but at the same time, he’d been here. Never alone. Never far. Especially not from Lance…
So, maybe, maybe that needed to be dealt with, talked about, but it didn’t change how he felt. Leaning in closer, he rested his forehead against Lance’s. “We’re good,” he said softly, surely, until that doubt popped up again. That’d he’d missed something. Missed something more than he’d already had. “Right?”
Another memory passed through Lance’s mind. Keith and Krolia, his mother, coming back to the Castle of Lions. Lance remembered stepping forward, botching the line, and ultimately Keith pushed him aside. But that wasn’t the Keith who was next to him. As much as it was… it wasn’t. No more than he was the Lance who had blurted out something so silly just to get some attention.
Lance let himself rest back against Keith’s forehead, careful to not put too much pressure. “Yeah, we’re good. Maybe a little confused, but good…”
A noise at the door made Lance look up. Coran had found a small pompom toy and clearly was bringing his kill in to share. It made Lance smile a little as the cat hopped up onto the bed and presented the gift.
Keith relaxed, leaning a bit heavier into Lance, the hesitation gone with those words. As if he’d been given permission. “So situation normal?” he joked as he reached out to pet the orange cat. He managed one before Coran sidestepped the next pet in order instead to intently sniff at his fingers and circle around to keep up with the scent exploration.
Puffing out a sigh, he flicked the cat toy in Lance’s direction. “So I know you were excited about the bed rest thing, but I should… I need to talk to Shiro. Make sure he’s ok. Plus…” His nose wrinkled as he moved his left arm. “... I kept thinking you were exaggerating with all that bigger talk, but this keeps-” A yelp cut off his sentence as two paws latched onto a longer lock of hair and yanked it down towards Coran’s mouth.
“Situation normal as it ever gets,” Lance agreed. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the ebb of a low grade headache. At least the quiet of the room wasn’t making it worse. He started to nod at Keith as Keith started to plan out what came next. There weren’t any surprises about checking on Shiro, and making a pit stop at Pidge for an adjustment was totally understandable. The yelp, on the other hand, made Lance open both eyes to see what was going on.
Coran had gotten a paw wound up in a shock of hair and was making a real show out of wriggling to get free. Sighing, Lance reached for the animal to hold him steady. “Well, the good news is that Coran doesn’t care about your bed rest either. Hey, quit -- Coran, no.”
Keith grumbled, trying to pull the hair away from Coran, but also not sure if he was making it better or worse. “For now,” he muttered. “But watch him change his mind as soon as I decide to get up. Then he’ll think bed rest is the best thing ever.” He tried to give his hair another tug away from the cat before he shot a half-hearted glare at both the feline and Lance. “I swear, if this ends in another hair cut, I’m calling conspiracy between you two.”
Lance managed to trace one paw to the tangle at the claws. Some quick finagling and Coran was finally free. Lance grabbed the pompom and tossed it across the room, which effectively turned the cat into a prey-seeking missile. After that, Lance turned to Keith with a look of feigned injury.
“Hey, that one time was a total mistake!” And he couldn’t help it. Lance stretched out his hand again, this time fingers sliding through the length of Keith’s hair. It was soft and thick. “Besides, I like this. I’m not doing anything to it.”
This. This was what had been missing in all those memories that Lance had dumped into his skull. The closeness. The ability to touch and the reciprocation. Lance’s fingers moved to push back some of that longer black hair from Keith’s face next. “Five more minutes? Then you can go see Shiro?”
There was an eyebrow raised in challenge for a second. But only a second though before that desire to be contradictory melted under the actions of Lance’s fingers. His head leaned and tipped with each pet, a low rumble deep in his throat. It hadn’t taken much time at all for Keith to realize he liked having his hair played with, especially by Lance. But it felt different now that there was more hair to play with considering that the ‘mullet’ had already been absent for months before they got close to this level of contact.
“You can keep doing that to it,” he murmured contently as he ran his hand along Lance’s arm. “Can do that whenever you want.” He traced his hand from Lance’s shoulder to his neck, finally cupping the other boy’s cheek again. “Five minutes.” He made a face. “Then we can see if there’s anything we got that I can wear outside.”