Hi! If you are not busy and if you don't mind (and I do mean that you don't mind) would you be willing to write a drabble featuring Latte? I dearly adore that ship which is problematic seeing as there is not much content for it. Thank you so much!
Aw, it’s my pleasure! Latte is such an underrated ship that deserves some more love, and I’m happy to deliver! Also, I’m planning around a little bit with canon in this, so in regards to timeline it could fall into a modified S5/S6.
“You couldn’t have been a little more careful?”
“I did what I-! Ow! Little too much pressure there, Pookums!” Matt squeaked out as Lance dabbed at the gnarly gash cut along his shoulder and down about two and a half inches along his back. He tried to peer over at the other but it was hard given the location of the injury and how moving too much exasperated it further.
“Face forward, now. If you move around it’s gonna make this a lot worse,” The other growled out threateningly, though his movements were still gentle and well-practiced. Matt remember Pidge mentioning to him that Lance became extremely focused on learning about medical treatment after their first big brawl upon becoming Paladins. The young sniper had suffered some serious injuries as a result, trying to protect Coran from an explosive, and spent a good amount of time in the healing pods. There was some minor scarring from the event but he had been left rather sore afterwards, muscles still worn from having to be so extensively healed. If he’d been given proper treatment before going into the healing pod, the soreness could have been reduced, as Coran explained it to him. That fact had been the final factor that finalized his wanting to get more knowledge about how to administer proper medical treatment. There was even an incident where Lance had helped with a rebellion assignment and dedicated himself to treating the wounded on their way back to the Castle Ship.
That had been the first spark of interest in him, seeing how compassionate and detailed the boisterous young man could be.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them as Lance worked to clean and slow the bleeding, trying to get a better assessment. From what he could see, the wound wasn’t as bad as he’d initially thought it would be. It wouldn’t need stitches or anything, at least, but it was just going to be an uncomfortable bandage and heal. He picked up a fresh cleaning pad and started dabbing to get all the dried blood off from the outer reaches of the wound when something caught his eye. It was a mark that reminded him of the letter ‘X’, but was a bit curvy on the four edges. He pulled up the antibacterial ointment, dabbed some on to a clothe, and carefully began spreading it along the wound. “Looks like you’ve got some more scars since the last time I saw you,” He mumbled quietly, trying his best to keep the bitterness from his voice.
Matt tensed a bit then hissed quietly. “I’ve had a lot of missions,” He said, voice a bit tight. He’d most likely agitated the injury with his instinctive reaction.
“Told you it’d be worse if you didn’t sit still,” He grumbled back. Silence fell between them again as Lance finished getting the wound tended to. Once he had it all cleaned and securely wrapped, he turned to look back down at the unfamiliar mark. Tentatively, he reached out and traced it with his index finger. The skin was much paler than the rest of Matt’s skin, which was why he’d noticed it in the first place, but it was slightly raised, and somehow seemed just the slightest bit cooler than the unmarred flesh around it. “How did it happen?”
Matt let out a small hum of thought. “Bounty hunter. Had something like a cattle prod on him and got me pretty good. Felt absolutely awful,” He said, trying to diffuse some of the tension with a little laugh.
“Seriously?” Lance choked out, eyes widening before glancing back down at the mark under his fingers. Assessing further, he could see a few other scars sprinkled along his back. Some of them were old ones that he’d heard the stories of before, but there was some new ones that left his stomach twisting into knots. The new ones were bigger and felt more intimidating. One, in specific, that looked like a jagged knife wound that cut in a zig-zagging pattern from the small of his back all the way over to his hip.
A part of him wanted to beg him to leave the rebellion and stay with Voltron, on the Castle Ship, where they knew he’d be safe. It wouldn’t be entirely safe, sure, but at least if he was on the Castle Ship they could keep him safe and get him to the healing pods immediately. But, ultimately, he knew it would be fruitless. Pidge had tried to have the same conversation with her brother, but he’d been adamant that he needed to stay with the rebels. Their forces were already significantly limited and he was one of the few rebel fighters they had that could do high-level encrypting and decoding. He insisted that, just as the Paladin’s had their role in the war, so did he.
Lance could respect that, but it didn’t make his heart ache any less when he saw remnants like this.
He hadn’t felt as connected to someone the way he did with Matt. The more he learned about the other man, about all that he’d faced in his time at the Garrison and rebels respectively, the more he realized he’d found a kindred spirit. Despite his intelligence and skill, Matt had struggled with the more physical aspects of being a pilot, which was part of why he’d been a communications expert. Well, that and the fact that he was incredibly charming and articulate when he wanted to be.
But, even with his family name, Matt had struggled and been looked down on by some of the instructors. Just like Lance had experienced.
And then, after Shiro had sacrificed himself to save his life, he dedicated himself to improving. He started to do smaller exercises up until he was freed by the rebels, and then taken any offered coaching the other rebellion members could offer him. He worked hard, built up his stamina, and developed the muscle and skills he needed to survive. He still relied much more on his wits and intelligence, sure, but he could hold him own much better in a fight. He, much like Lance, had put in the effort to prove that he was deserving of admiration, and it felt nice having someone to confide some of his fears in.
He cared so much about Matt that the idea of losing him felt painful.
Matt shifted, moving carefully to turn and face him, eyes bright with concern. “Hey,” He said, voice soft as he reached up to cup either side of Lance’s face.
Lance didn’t realize that tears had started to well until he felt a calloused thumb brush gently along his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I’m fine,” He choked out, trying to pull away.
Instead, though, Matt kept his touch firm and followed him. “Hey, it’s okay. Just… Breath, babe, okay?” He mumbled, leaning a bit closer to press a quick kiss to the other’s forehead.
Lance ducked down and pressed his face into Matt’s chest, taking in a shaking breath and wrapping his arms around him. He made sure to be careful of the other’s injury as he did. Matt carefully tightened his grip on him, hoisting him up and closer, tucking his head under his chin and murmuring soft reassurances into his hair. He closed his eyes tight and let himself bask in this little moment of comfort.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: I never was normal, they always told me so. I was Blue, sometimes Lancey, and never Lance. I was the Bronx, but the revolution in the Bronx. As mama said I was a rebel, no more. And she was right. Since forever, since the day I started to grow my fro to believe that my heritage wasn’t something that cursed me but empowered me, I believed that I was weird. To the day I was suddenly called a genius by a long-haired boy from the other side…
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Rating: T
Pairing(s): Latte
Summary: Summer was finally here, and what better way to spend it that to drag your sister to the arcade?
written for the @unofficial-lattebang! with art from @crafty-scrafty (here!) and @byeara (here!)
