LK07



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    “Well, you don’t look at me with fondness. Not like you look at everyone else,” Lance says matter-of-factly. Shiro winces. Lance is fair, and is completely right to say so, but it still hurts. It’s hard to be wrong.

    “That was once true.”

    “But it’s not true anymore?”

    “I’ve been… paying better attention. Noticing some strange things, things that didn’t make sense with the person I assumed you were.”
    ---
    OR: Shiro is flawed. He makes mistakes. But he's a good man, and he'll work to fix them.

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    14 Jun 2026

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    “Several injuries located,” the device reads. “Ready to list and suggest treatment.”

    Six pairs of eyes whip towards the Blue Paladin, varying from disappointed to scared to furious. For a moment Lance’s expression is open, shocked, deer-in-headlights, and then it shutters, replaced with something determined and endlessly, endlessly stubborn.

    “I’m fine,” he insists. “If anyone comes any closer I’m going to throw a hissy fit.”

    “You’re already throwing a hissy fit,” Allura points out. “When normal people are injured, they just get treated.”

    Lance sets his jaw. “I’m already treated.”

    Keith scowls. “Well, obviously not, because you’re hurt. Dickhead.” He reaches forward and tugs on Lance’s jacket, clearly meaning to take it off to assess further damage, but Lance hisses at him, snapping his jaw.

    “Are you a fucking scorned chihuahua?” Keith demands, snatching his hand back.

    “Put your hands on me again and find out.”
    ---
    OR: Lance hides his injuries. The team finds out.

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    14 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 76

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    Whenever Keith is snappy and irritable or blank and sad, Lance will invent some stupid game where he’s ‘definitely better at than you, Mullet, so eat that!’ until Keith has perked right up and started arguing right back and playing along with so much intensity that he forgets why he was so upset in the first place.

    Yeah. It’s definitely one of the many reasons why Keith likes him so much. He’s always had a soft spot for the kind ones.

    Most of the time, though, everyone’s feeling pretty good. There’s no one who needs Lance’s strength or wit or humour to go to bed with a weight lifted off their shoulders. No one Lance needs to care for.

    On these days, Lance sits with whomever he carefully chooses. (Keith is pleased to note that, on a good chunk of these occasions, Lance sits with him, but that’s neither here nor there.)
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    OR: Keith watches Lance a lot. Often with his chin in his hands as he sighs dreamily. (Well, that's what Pidge says, anyway, but how reliable is she?)

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    13 Jun 2026

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    “You did. You made me lion slippers.”

    “I did not! I found them!”

    Keith laughs, and the sound is bright and loud and makes Lance’s knees weak, a little.

    Oh, no.

    “They’re very cute,” Keith says, inspecting them closely. That stupid smirk never leaves his face. “I can see you’ve poured your heart and soul into them. I appreciate it.”

    “I didn’t — fuck off! There was no heart and soul involved. Only — malice and hatred!”

    “The cutest manifestation of malice and hatred I’ve ever received,” Keith assures, falsely sincere. He brushes past Lance to get to his door, and Lance scrambles to put as much distance between them as possible. Keith is undeterred, leaning against his newly opened door as casual as can be.
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    OR: Oh, Keith is the fucking worst. He's the worst! And Lance hates him.
    Well, kind of.
    Maybe not.

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    13 Jun 2026

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    Lance huffs, kicking an abandoned platter of appetizers to the side and sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the white tablecloth. “I don’t want to ruin my fancy clothes,” he says petulantly. “Or get wet socks. Why do horrible things happen to beautiful people? I don’t deserve this.”

    Keith laughs. A small one, but one where his smile gets wide, showing his crooked incisors and the lines around his eyes. The look of it makes Lance grin back on reflex. Keith shakes his head, teasing, and then opens his arms. “C’mere, then.”

    It takes Lance a moment to clock what Keith’s suggesting, but then he scoffs.

    “Absolutely not, Mullet.”

    The twinkle in Keith’s eyes is something like mischief. “I dunno what your issue is. If I carry you, you don’t ruin your shoes and your feet stay dry. What have you got to lose?”

    “My dignity, I would say. You think I’m cool with you carrying me around like some —” Lance flushes at the mere thought — “some damsel, in front of the entire planet that thinks I’m a cool space hero? No way!”

    “Well it’s either your dignity or dry feet, princess,” Keith teases. “You can’t have both.”
    ---
    OR: There's a flooding incident. Lance is so embarrassed he might die.

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    12 Jun 2026