smother (slight langst)
In which, in the end, Lance will always choose someone over himself.
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A strained smile on his face, Lance lets out a low laugh, the small sound echoing around the dimly lit chambers of the lion. It was quiet, too quiet, with only the sound of his breathing and the fizzing of his teammates’ holograms filling the air.
From his seat in a badly beaten Blue, he can see Shiro’s dark eyes wide with sheer disbelief, pale lips repeating, how, how, how, over and over again as if it’s the only word he knows how to say. Hunk, to the right of their leader’s screen, pants desperately, blood and vomit dribbling down his chin. Dazed and confused with no comprehension that they had gotten beat. Badly. Pidge’s connection is fuzzy and laggy, tears staining their cheeks as they dive deep into their console, scrambling for a fix between red and blue wires.
And Keith. A black, blank screen, nothing from his lion, the lion that was drifting in the middle of space: offline and down for the count. Lance urges Blue on, to close the gap of space between her and Red so they both can find out just what happened to the pilot inside.
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