"fight me you attractive stranger" or "great, perfect, nice, fuck this"
I’m so sorry this ended up being way longer than i thought it would be
The thing about being trapped is that there’s only so much space. Lance is rudely reminded of that fact every time he ends up pressed to a wall, trying to will his limbs into taking up less room, but he’s mostly learnt to deal with it. Physical discomfort, depressingly, has become routine.
Besides, it’s the emotions that really mess with him. They shove sharper things into Lance’s gut than bony Keith-elbows, and take up more space. Sometimes it feels like he’s choking on the tension, the uneasy glances, the muttered, half-formed plans and the unspoken ‘how are we gonna get out of this one’.
So, as much as Lance doesn’t love spraining his ankle in the middle of a canyon, it’s much easier to deal with than the waves of resentment coming off of Keith, and vastly preferable to either of the aforementioned happening in an enclosed space. Sure, they’re still trapped, all of the exits are very much blocked off, and air extraction is a solid no-go considering how narrow the canyon is; however, Lance doesn’t have to deal with Keith-fumes in a collapsing tunnel system, and he’s chalking that up to a win.
Lance does get a hefty wave of them by sheer virtue of having to lean on Keith to walk, but it’s a necessary sacrifice if he wants to travel faster than a slow, pained hop. Although, hopping is looking more and more appealing every time Keith makes a face at him, all scrunched together eyebrows and downturned lips.
Lance is about to snap that it’s not like he tried to make the mission harder, when Keith curses.
“Heads up,” Keith says, then ducks behind the nearest outcrop, pulling Lance with him. And yeah, sure, Keith probably saw someone heading their way, but the sudden movement means that the only thing Lance can process is the way his ankle is screaming.
Lance’s breath catches before he lets out a hiss like a teakettle, which sucks because he knows that Keith is going to give him– Yep, there it is.
Right on cue, Keith’s head whips around, just to fix Lance with the knit eyebrows of displeasure. Just as quickly, though, he goes back to peering over the rock, looking for incoming sentries, which is almost worse. Lance is supposed to be the one who thinks things through and scouts for threats! Keith’s supposed to be impulsive and run into things headfirst.
“Lance?” Keith’s making the face again. “Are you alright?”
“Me? I’m great. This situation is just… Great. Perfect. Nice.” Lance takes a deep breath, then laughs. It’s an empty sound. “Fuck this.“
Keith startles. “I thought you didn’t curse?”
“Well, you don’t plan ahead, so I guess today’s just full of fun new experiences!” Lance withdraws his arm from where it’s wrapped around Keith so he can cross his arms.
It’d feel better if Keith looked angry, or insulted, or anything other than bewildered. “Why are you–” Keith cuts himself off, and Lance gets his wish; frustration leaks into his expression like milk into tea, slowly taking over. “I haven’t done anything! Why are you so mad at me for doing my job?”
“Well, that’s!” A good question. Lance’s mouth snaps shut, and he looks away. “You don’t have to act like I can’t do anything, suddenly, just because of my ankle, you know. I’m fine!”
“You’re not, but whatever.” Keith makes a gesture like he’s physically tabling the issue. “I’m not acting like– whatever you think I am! I’m acting like I’m concerned. Because I am.” Keith paused, crossing his arms. “Concerned, I mean.”
“Oh yeah! Because that makes sense!” Lance almost raises his arms in exasperation before remembering there’s a reason they hid behind an outcrop.
Keith squints at him, leaning forward incredulously. “Yes? It does? You’re my teammate and my friend, and in case you didn’t notice, we’re not in the best situation right now. Especially you.”
Lance leaned away. “Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to rub it in. Lance messed up and now we’re stuck–” He cut himself off. Wait a second. “Did you just say friend?”
There was no reason for Keith’s face to look that exasperated. “Yes, Lance! Believe it or not, I like spending time with you when you’re not actively trying to be a jackass!”
“I don’t try!” Lance defended, then squinted. He could have phrased that better. “But…” He squinted at Keith. “What are you talking about? You barely know I exist most of the time.”
“Lance,” Keith pointed at him with flat palms, “in case you haven’t noticed, time has passed since we rescued Shiro! Relationships can change! We played a video game together less than eight hours ago!”
“I just figured you didn’t have anything better to do!”
Keith gaped, incredulous. “You read almost half a book over my shoulder last week!”
“That just proves my point! You didn’t even notice I was there!” Except the fact that he was bringing it up meant that he very much did. Lance held up a hand before Keith could answer with that exact response, and leaned back on the rock, careful not to nudge his ankle. “Wait. Okay, so you’re saying that the reason you don’t leave when I do stuff like that is because… you’re fine with it?”
“Yes, Lance. I just said that I like spending time with you. Somehow, this conversation hasn’t changed that.” Keith’s scowl didn’t do much to make his argument more convincing. “Although, it would be a lot easier if you would stop acting like we’re not friends in the first place, or like everything I do is a calculated move to sabotage you.”
Lance works his mouth, fishing for an answer. He’s good with words, generally. Normally he’d say something cool, or suave; he’d say something about how Keith could have made it more obvious, or how maybe, Lance might have been in the wrong here for once. Now, however, the only thing he can manage is a small, “alright.” He’s not sure if it’ll cover all the nuances he wants it to, like how he feels so small next to Keith and hopes with enough bravado he can make up the difference, or how something as small as a broken ankle makes him feel as useless and replaceable as a busted scaultrite disk, but for now, it’ll have to do.
“Alright,” he repeats. He’ll try to do better.
A grin spreads across Keith’s face, and Lance likes it much more than the look from earlier. “Great.” He nods to himself, then sobers. “Now that that’s covered, d’you think you could give me some cover fire while I charge the sentries over there?”
Lance matches the seriousness of his expression, then peers over the outcrop, thoughts churning in his mind. “I might actually have a better plan,” he says, slowly. “Although, it’s gonna take some serious teamwork.”
