😴
Send ‘😴’ To Fall Asleep In My Muse’s Arms (accepting!)
or send 😴 + reverse for a sleepy lance!
He’s relieved when Keith passes out. Sure, Keith had stopped talking to him a while ago… but at least now he knows the ibuprofen that he found in the bottom of his backpack (ibuprofen that’d been there since before they became Voltron; ibuprofen that had long since passed its expiration date) is working well enough for him to get some rest. His breathing is smoother, coming in soft puffs against his neck… and, for the first time since Keith got HURT, Lance releases control of muscles that had been coiled up like springs.
He sits back, cautious not to jostle the Paladin sleeping on his shoulder, and lets out a sigh— lets his eyes slip from the granite shadows beneath Keith’s eyes to the bandages around his abdomen; to the dying fire that will only be able to generate warmth for an hour more, to the mass of vegetation surrounding them (that, as dense as it is, still has him feeling exposed), before his eyes come to rest upon an alien sky. There are no stars. Up there, the clouds are swirling like a VORTEX— and just like that, before he can even think about relocating to dryer ground, the sky opens up.
Cursing under his breath, he pulls Keith in close, sheltering him from the downpour with as much of his body as he can. The others won’t be able to rescue them in this… and, to make matters worse, a few minutes later the fire fizzles out.
After that, it is very… very… very dark.
Lance is too old to be scared of the dark; too old to CRY and refuse to go to bed without a nightlight or a galaxy of glowing stars stuck to his ceiling… but he can’t help the way it seems to paralyze his chest; like there’s an elephant sitting right in the middle of it. Forcing a shaky breath, he wraps an arm around Keith, presses his face into the red Paladin’s dampening hair— this time, more for his own comfort than Keith’s— and closes his own eyes as they start to prickle.
Morning can’t come soon enough.