emblazes | INBOX

Huh?

[ of all the things to say???

lance twists back around with an incredulous look, gaze dropping from keith's own incredulous face to his still soapy hands. ]

Yeah, they're for exfoliating. [ a pause. ] They keep your skin from feeling like old withered crap. Are you gonna do this or not?

[Uhm, way to harsh his vibe, dude. Keith was having a great time in the kitchen forgetting about how asinine Lance is, carefully adding blocks of ice to his drink one at a time (only four in total, five would've put them out of ice again). He also prepped a small bowl of multicolored alien bugles for him, just in case that post-potion taste was stuck in his mouth.]

You don't have to worry about me.

[He carelessly drops the bugle bowl into his lap as a Firm Display of Anger, while kindly...holding the water out in offering.]

What about next time you run into her? [For all the weird shit they've endured thus far, running into someone you're only vaguely familiar with -- visually, it isn't so uncommon. It's like being part of a big school...like the Garrison. Their occupancy isn't so widespread.] You think you're gonna be able to talk some sense into her when it didn't work the first time?

[If Lance hadn't accepted the water yet, he'll be thumping it against his chest.]

I'm not doing this again.

[Less about labor, more about mental toil.]

[ no such water was accepted during this time, because things are getting Intense, and who has time to remember about trivial things like hydration! so the ice clinks noisily against the glass, and some water even spills onto his chest, but the situation is too tense now for it to be funny or sexy or even just weird. you're lucky it wasn't against his bruised rib, keith! otherwise you would've been feeling hecka guilty!

anyway his hand at least comes up to take the glass then, which is fortunate because it gives him something to curl a fist around. ]

Well no one asked you to, [ he snaps back without really thinking. by now, his defenses are flaring up, and he's starting to feel really... ashamed? the very shame he was so adamant about not feeling just a minute earlier, only this time it has nothing to do with zero.

he doesn't want to seem ungrateful, but he doesn't want keith to think him that much of an idiot, either. ]

She's probably not even gonna remember me anyway. [ lbr none of the girls he meets in this way ever do. ] Not that it matters, because whatever hecked them up in that VR room isn't gonna affect them outside of it. [ so surely, surely she wouldn't be quite as volatile the next time? if there even is a next time? ]

[It's like he's using their scientific names. Somehow, he isn't inspired to probe further into what it all means.]

Oh. [Oh. :)] Yeah, just stand straight.

[His fingers are gonna wither from holding into this goop. He's also, meanwhile, acting like this is an incredibly serious thing while also, simultaneously, thinking of how dumb it is for no payoff at all. Keith would only bother with this stuff if it gave him superhuman abilities to morph into a dragon and live in a volcano.]

Nobody had to ask!

[In hindsight, sure, what he said sounds bad -- but he never meant to say Lance owes him anything for giving a shit. For whatever reason, Keith isn't so easy to blame it all on the VR system; maybe it's because Lance just has a knack for running into trouble and now, for some reason it's really testing his threshold for nonsense. Maybe he's going stir crazy and wants to take it out on someone; he doesn't have his trainerbot here after all.

Or, maybe he's just tired of Lance's over-the-top fascination with girls. Shiro's not here to reel him in...which....

Is also something else.]

All you're saying is that she might not be as strong outside of VR. I -- don't even care anymore.

[Which isn't true, he just isn't gaining ground and he wants to assault Lance but can't because he's crippled?]

Just don't expect any help next time.

[ that wasn't at all what he was saying! for all he knew, she was even stronger, because what if the vr nonsense just made her forget all the abilities she actually possessed? regardless, all signs continue to point to him not wanting keith anywhere near her, especially given how volatile the guy usually is.

case in point...

lance tries not to look as hurt as he feels when keith reiterates his hands-off approach next time — and of course mr. heart-on-his-sleeve fails miserably at it. it's silly, because the guy literally just said nobody had to ask him to help less than a minute earlier, but all lance hears now is how much he doesn't care. ]

I wasn't going to.

[ which is a bold-faced LIE but what else can you really say in this moment... sure he and keith had their differences, but usually — when the chips fall, they had each others' backs, right? what's so different this time?

he looks down at the glass in his hand, the other idly picking at some spilled alien bugles. he can't even stick them on his fingers now and pretend he has a claw... they've been Sullied... ]

What do you want me to say, Keith? I hecked up? We both know I did. [ one more aggressively than the other, but. ]

[All Keith knows for sure is that someone kicked Lance's ass for no reason and he literally needed to use a magical concoction to semi-rectify the situation.]

Good!

[The sissiest of slapfights. He's half ready to storm out, for dramatic affect, but still fairly concerned about Lance's entire state of being and can't quite bring himself to leave just yet.]

Just...be quiet.

[Because, what else is he even supposed to say when Lance is acting all pathetic? And vulnerable? And upsetting?

If Shiro were here, he would have interjected ten minutes ago, told them both to be quiet, ordered them both to sleep and...whatever else comes after that is fuzzy as he'd be trying to sleep. In that scenario.]

Edited 2017-09-13 00:27 (UTC)

[ if shiro were here, it probably wouldn't have gotten this bad this quickly. allura apparently sleeps like a rock. does shiro even sleep? or does he just do push-ups all the time?

itsamyster.jpg

anyway, the biggest surprise of all this evening is lance actually listening to keith in this instant, when every other time would have indicated he resist just for the sake of resisting. instead, he glowers at the other, and finally gulps down his ice water like the petulant child he is. and because he's so gd petty, he's gonna slip each ice cube and chew on it. loudly. ]

[How did they go from upright spooning to this???

The silent tension grows borderline awkward until Lance starts chewing and slurping and audibly existing again. He was just about to rifle through his drawer for suitable nightware and take his leave (into the next room over) (until lance fell asleep) (so he could periodically check in on him) but he's been foiled.]

Is that why you wanted ice?!

[There're only four cubes. Use them wisely, you fuck.]

[ look lance is only good for two things: creating the tension and breaking it.

also breaking ice between his molars, apparently, because boy look at him go. he makes a point to finish chewing the first cube down before slipping the second one into his mouth, rolling it around, and responding (with a cheek bulging out because of it). ]

What? Problem?

[ why are they like this. ]

[Maybe, Zero and Lance are perfect for eachother. It's a thought he thinks whilst studying the way his teeth grind the ice blocks to bits. Maybe he'll get brainfreeze.]

I'm going to bed, since you're fine.

[It comes out as a threat, only because he's still wound up from their fight...obviously. He's turning to their..probably-shared dresser, tugging open his drawer to shuffle through the PJ area -- as he'd planned to earlier on.]

[ oh right, bed... lance actually considers his own situation here. since he's finished his drink, and isn't all that hungry (thanks in part to the ice chewing and also just a disinterest in possibly throwing it all up) there's no real reason for him to stay sitting up anymore. so he'll carefully set the cup and bowl aside (where had this bowl even come from? did keith bring him food even though he didn't ask for it? what.) and admittedly that in and of itself had been kind of a struggle, giving his arms can't really lift all that well thanks to torso and arm injury, but he manages. albeit somewhat pathetically. given that, he probably should have realized laying back down would be even more of a struggle, but surprise surprise he doesn't really consider it until he's attempting to do it, and suddenly he's having to bite back a groan of pain because hey! doing that kinda stuff with the injuries he's got hurts! who wouldathunk?!

anyway he kind of doesn't want to give keith the satisfaction so he tries to roll over and hide his face, but that just makes it hurt even more so then he just winds up flopping down like a dead fish, sighing loudly in thinly veiled pain and frustration.

maybe if he closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep, keith will have missed all of that.... ]

[Keith's making a point of not watching Lance as he acts like a 98 year old man trying to settle in after realizing his dentures aren't strong enough to chew a baby-sized Jordan Almond. It's harder, as time goes on Lance struggling in his peripheral widens until he's staring at him like an ordinary beachgoer watching seagulls pick off newborn turtles as they race toward the water. He'd like to help, but he's so mad.

He is still mad, right? He should be mad. Lance doesn't trust him, doesn't think he's strong enough to handle something even with a fair warning, he sides with projective enemies and would automatically side with a girl when it makes absolutely no sense--]

What hurts?

[It's a demandstion. Think: rich white mother takes family to the zoo, sees her first Capybara. What is that. He cares and wants to know, wants to...help..in some way, even as every other bit of himself thinks it's best for Lance to tend to his own wounds from here on out. Maybe then he'd learn. If he was left to feel like he didn't have anyone--

His pajamas fall to the floor in a heap, he's heading back to the bed. First, to take the bowl of dumb alien chips and set it aside, properly. Noisily. Noisier than intended.

He's overthinking, overreacting, under-reacting, putting too much thought into things that don't even matter. There's nothing wrong with wanting a fallback -- someone to fall back to. Reaching beyond their Paladin-camaraderie, Lance has a big family, right? He's feeling a weird mix of I'm Garbage and Deal With It.

He's not prepared to apologize, much as he's physically contradicting his whole fend for yourself outburst.]

[ there's no real reason for him to be so surprised to find keith right there, hovering over him. he hadn't heard the telltale sounds of footsteps drawing further away, or the tight snap of a door being shut. and yet, when he opens his eyes, they clear on an expression of unrestrained shock, complete with raised brows and a slack jaw. the kind of surprised that's tinged with a sense of wonder, much like keith himself might look should he ever finally find his beloved mothman.

what hurts? everything, lance wants to say, because he's Dramatique™ like that, but there is a strange sense of urgency radiating from the other that he finds himself feeling humbled to, or at the very least abashed. this is serious, and though instinct has him reaching for a joke, a taunt, maybe even a fart — anything to shake this weird tension off — he finds himself coming back empty-handed, so he grasps at the sheets instead. ]

—Sorry.

[ keith may not have been prepared to apologize, but as proud and defiant as lance himself can be, his own apology is sitting there ready on his tongue. he hecked up back there with zero, should have called for back up when things got too dicey, maybe even way before that; but he realizes now that he hecked up here too, somehow, and that's why he can't quite meet keith in the eyes anymore, staring off instead to some random spot away from him.

it's the bonding moment all over again, isn't it? where lance felt compelled to brush this off as nothing, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things seeing as how he's fine, hes's getting better, why make it a bigger thing than it already is—

it's not nothing to keith, for whatever reason lance is still struggling to understand, and so maybe brushing if off like that hadn't been the most sensitive thing to do... ]

I'll tell you what you wanna know, just... just promise you won't go looking for trouble, okay? [ a pause, and one final attempt at levity: ] I don't think I can be as good a nurse as you.

[ it's not about not trusting keith's abilities. keith's one of the strongest, most dynamic fighters he knows. he knows the guy will do whatever it takes, but (thanks to their late-night swamp chat) now he also knows for a certainty that keith is also the kind of guy who won't stop, either. and past faith in abilities, and past his own sympathy for his confused attacker — he just doesn't want to have to come home one day and see keith all bloody and broken. he saw it once, back on the castle-ship after meeting with the blade, and it had been bad enough then. for some reason, lance things if he saw it again now, he wouldn't know how to even deal with it. ]

[ haha stand "straight" good one.

anyway lance will turn back around and wait an appropriate amount of time... he tries to pay attention to where keith's hands actually roam, but it's a bit hard to without actually seeing it for himself, so eventually he has to glance back just to check. ]

Make sure you don't miss a spot.

[A similar apology was resting uncomfortably in his throat, creating a ball of nothingness -- a pang of guilt he wouldn't be feeling if Lance weren't so goddamn careless, if he (himself) weren't such an asshole. Whatever these feelings he's feeling for Lance, outside of what he's doing now and even beyond their stupid argument is manifesting in the weirdest way. Keith's a guy of extremes, similar to Lance's Dramatiques™, and when giving a shit fiercely resonates with every other aspect of himself it comes out like diarrhea spaghetti. Too much, too narrow, dogmatic in the worst way.]

Don't be.

[Quietly, looking elsewhere just the same, focusing on a corner of the dumb room he abandoned over something dumb that also made no sense. His eyes shift to the wall that exists in a square that separates their beds. It's barren -- the whole room is. There's nothing decorative or personal, bare and without a cork-board of conspiracies, theories -- where did his wooden halfassed I Got Deserted On An Alien Planet And While I Wasn't Dropped In The Ocean I'm Still Using This Flimsy Two-By-Fourish Thing To Mark The Days, Like A Prisoner At Alkatraz go? Why is the naked wall making him feel like shit?

Oh, right. It's himself that's making him feel like shit -- or, his previous actions as iterated by Lance. It's an extended apology that enters his brain as way to go idiot and progresses as patience yields focus, moron.]

It's -- no. You were right. [A harsh swallow, trying to free his throat up of that knot of stress.] You took care of me before. Without yelling at me.

[He's moving to settle his skinny ass on approximately six inches of mattress space, purposely making himself scarce while re-personalizing the conversation.]

I just don't want you to get hurt again.

[Not to oversimplify Lance's thoughts, but what a hivemind.]

[ technically, there was some yelling involved, but most of it was due to a drunken keith's propensity to forget what personal space meant. and that's coming from lance, mr. your-shoulder-is-also-my-armrest. but lance knows that's not what keith really means, and while a part of him doesn't particularly care either way (like keith, it's not like he'd done that with any sort of debt in mind, despite his frequent whines of "you owe me" and all that jazz), he is mindful enough not to evoke an argument for the sake of an argument. even if, right now, falling back into that easy banter feels so much safer than... whatever it is they're doing right now.

he feels the bed dip slightly at keith's added weight, and he shifts a little on the bed to make a bit more room. but it's a twin size, and there's not much he can do given his injuries anyway, so it winds up being just an additional three inches, and his arm flush up against keith's butt. it's... not the most comfortable of positions, but it's definitely better than the distance from seconds earlier. ]

If it helps any, I definitely don't try to get hurt.

[ that... probably doesn't help any at all, so lance hastily adds: ]

I'll be careful next time. I promise.

[ past keith he can see the crumpled heap of telltale red and black, and though he is incredibly thankful they're no longer yelling at each other, he finds himself none too eager to have the evening end. not just yet, not like this. they've made up now, sort of, even if lance still isn't entirely sure why things got as volatile as they did, but he can't shake off the feeling things still feel a little... unresolved. unfinished. ]

Will you sleep here tonight? [ a beat to actually here himself, and he cringes at how small his voice sounds. almost defiantly, he adds in a louder tone: ] I could need more water. The air's so dry lately.

Edited (jk... im not that bold) 2017-09-13 21:55 (UTC)

[lol @ this bi erasure.

The task's easy; wash Lance's back with the weird plastic things that cannot be bad for the ecosystem at all. After pouring a reasonably even amount into his other palm, so both hands can be used, he'll start at his shoulders, massaging a bit there.]

Your back isn't even dirty.

[Nevermind that they were just submerged in swampass. Visibly, his back looks the normal color it should look. That means there aren't any germs. There may be a film, but at least he looks normal.

Despite the argument he could put up, he goes along his merry way, close to his spine, over his shoulderblades...]

[ it was going all good and well till keith decides to be a little prick (haha) about it, or at least that's lance's story. keith wasn't actually all that bad with it, applying just enough pressure to really get a good lather going, and even give something of a pseudo-massage. but then his hands start to drift towards the middle of his torso, along the sides and— ]

Ah-ta-ta-ta!

[ he seizes up like he's been electrocuted, shoulderblades knitting together like someone had tied some string there and pulled tight. ]

No tickling! Never any tickling!

[The goal was to sit on the bed and without landing on Lance in any way and opening him up somehow. This arrangement is perfect. Stop moving.

His brows lift skeptically at Lance's little pledge. It's nice to hear, but unbelievable. Like John Titor talking about timeleaps on the radio -- or, uh, it was until they started living off a castleship capable of teleportation and who knows what else.]

Huh? [Like he'd made the request in another language.] There's barely enough room for you, plus you're hurt.

[Because sleep here tonight means in bed with me rather than rejoin me in our room that you've been avoiding for x amount of time. He doesn't have enough time to be properly flustered by the request he's (probably) misconstruing, as it's supplemented by a water request...]

You're gonna end up peeing in your sleep.

[Which isn't a no, but a Word To The Wise.]

With ice?

Always with ice. [ he's a sun child okay... cold water or bust, yo. get that lukewarm gross stuff outta here.

in any case, he has to kind of do a mental lap around just to get back to the place where keith had clearly fallen behind, because while his question might have been... bold... it definitely hadn't meant to be that bold! ]

Also, in case you haven't noticed, but there's two whole beds here. [ he lifts a hand up to wave vaguely up at the mattress situated right above them. ] Plenty of places for little Keiths to get their nap-nap on without bothering poor, injured — but totally healing quickly! — Lances.

[His reaction's effective in getting Keith to pull away like he'd just touched fire. Maybe he'd been bruised somewhere through all of that ruckus? He hadn't noticed, and is left somewhat wide-eyed, looking between his back and the back of his head...

Son of a bitch.]

I wasn't tickling you?!

[You know how those lesbian pillow fights always start out on redtube dot com? This is exactly like one of those, but replace the girls with boys and the bed with a shower. He's gonna go ahead and jam his forefingers into Lance's side -- both forefingers, both sides.

That's tickling, he'd say, if he knew how to start a proper ticklefight. Fuckin' gay dude.]

I'm not gonna be able to sleep in either bunk if you chew it again.

[Besides, he wasted his first Four Exact Cubes, he doesn't deserve any more of them. Especially where they're running low. Ice Cubes are basically endangered in their household.]

But there's only one left, so don't complain.

[He's moving, the mattress dips as he leans over -- moving, not indicative of standing, but he's leaning over Lance, making an effort not to weigh himself down on him. He's hurt, actively so -- in pain to be more precise, and he's not trying to add to it. While steadying himself with a grip on the bedlatter, he brushes his knuckles over Lance's hairline and for approximately five seconds his next idea seems totally founded, sound, a fabulous idea.

Except it quickly becomes a horrendously bad mistake when he's in the process of leaning over. Like when you've stood in line for a roller coaster for an hour and now that it's time to board, you're petrified.]

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