#(I'm going to the hangar to pick up some new uniform pieces)

[boyapologist]

having one of those days where the more I dress up the uglier I feel

[greenteafiend]

Hey! Can I get in a request for one of your bingo squares? Can I request Keith and bleeding out?? Bonus points if you work protective Lance into it (romantic or platonic, I'm not picky!). Your writing is spectacular, btw! :D :D :D

@badthingshappenbingo

Here you go anon, I hope you like it! :)

Lance woke with a startled yelp as if someone had blown a foghorn directly into his ear, rolling off his bed and falling to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs and blankets.

He was panting with exertion, terror pounding through his veins with every thundering heartbeat.

“S’fine… everything’s fine…” he mumbled to himself, looking around his shadowy quarters anxiously, checking that everything was in place. His room looked like it always did; orderly for the bedroom of a teenage boy

Did he have a nightmare? He couldn’t remember.

It took Lance a few seconds to realise that the alarm, the fear filling his his chest and making it hard for him to breathe, it wasn’t his own.  

“Red?” he murmured.

Where Blue had been like a gentle stream, their bond meandering peacefully through Lance’s mind, Red was like fire. Most of the time, Red’s fire was a merrily burning bonfire, glowing with warmth, but other times, Red felt like this. Wild. A fire that would consume everything until there was only ash.

When Red was like this, it meant something was seriously wrong.

Even though Lance was the Red paladin now, he found himself pouring cool water over their bond, waves of calm, just like Blue used to do for him, as he got up and dressed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked mentally, running through the darkened hallways of the castle to get down to Red’s hangar, bayard in hand.  

The lions didn’t communicate with words, mostly feelings and images, and Lance found that when Red was harried or upset, it became more difficult to parse what he meant.

Urgency. Hurry hurry hurry.

He couldn’t quite understand why Red needed him to hurry, but Lance trusted his lion. He picked up the pace, sprinting full pelt into the hangar.

He’d left Red sitting upright, tail curled around his body, the last time he’s flown. When he arrived, Red was up and pacing.  

The second he was through the doors, Red bounded over to him, mouth open, ready to scoop him up.

And then he was in the pilot seat, and Red was forcing himself through the closed hangar doors. He ripped them right off their hinges before Lance could even get his hands on the controls.

“Woah, boy. I could have opened–”

No time.

Red flew into the void of space so fast that Lance was plastered to the back of his seat under the force of it.   

To Lance’s shock, a wormhole opened up ahead. Red charged full steam towards it, and it spat them out in a scene of devastation.  

“Oh my god…” breathed Lance, eyes as wide as saucers.

There had been a Galra destroyer here, and it had been blown to pieces. In the far distance there was a warm red sun, casting warm shadows over twisted black metal. There was a planet nearby, as red as it’s sun. It made Lance think of Mars.

“What are we looking for, Red?” murmured Lance.

Apparently whatever it was wasn’t there amongst the floating wreckage, because Red turned and headed straight for the planet.

They exploded into the atmosphere, and Lance could see far below that there was a scar maring the planet’s rather uniform surface. An ugly grey scar caused by impact.

As they sped closer, Lance could make out that it was another Galra destroyer.

Red landed heavily enough to make Lance’s teeth rattle in his head, digging his claws into the red dirt. This close, the Galra destroyer loomed over them, dwarfing red. The side was completely ripped open, letting Lance see the labyrinth of corridors within.  

They were right beside a large section that was ripped open like a gutted fish, debris scattered around the open wound like entrails. Lance could see structures within, corridors and rooms, like damaged organs.

There. Out. Get him out.

Lance gasped as understanding flooded his brain - Keith. Red had brought him here for Keith.

Keith was in there somewhere, buried in the smouldering wreckage of the dead, broken ship, and he was in trouble.

But the destroyer was huge, even just the broken piece Red had brought him to; Lance couldn’t just search blindly. And judging by Red’s franticness, he didn’t have the time.

I will guide you. Go.

Red leaned up, bracing her great paws on the lower deck of the destroyer so he could open his mouth and deposit Lance on the upper levels. Bayard clutched tightly in his hands, Lance leapt from Red’s mouth. He stumbled a little on the broken, slanted floor of the destroyer, but he managed to recover himself and take off at a sprint.

He was lucky that the lights seemed to be functioning still, bathing the warped corridors in sickly violet light, or it would have been pitch dark.

There was a distant roar that let Lance know that at least part of the destroyer was on fire, and he pushed himself to run faster.

Here.

Red had led him to some sort of control room, where a wall on the far side had caved in. Lance heard Keith before he saw him; a series of pained whimpered emanated from the beneath the wreckage.

“Keith! Is that you?” Lance called, rushing towards the sound. Lance heard sniffing.

“L-Lance?”

He’d never heard Keith use a tone of voice like that. He’d never heard him sound so small and hurt.

“Yeah, it’s me buddy. I’m here to get you out. How you doing?” Lance kept his voice low and soothing even though internally he was panicking a little.

He couldn’t see Keith at all, it looked like the whole ceiling had come down on top of him.

He began shifting aside some of the smaller debris in an attempt to locate Keith.

“A-are you r-really here?” whimpered Keith. Lance didn’t like how thin Keith’s voice sounded…

“Sure am, Red knew you were in trouble and woke me up.”

There, Lance could see a gloved hand poking out of the debris. There was a particularly large section of metal from the ceiling covering the rest of Keith. Lance needed to move it to get to him…  

“I’m sorry,” said Keith.

“Keith, you have nothing to be sorry for–”

“I l-left. I’m s-so sorry.”

To Lance’s dismay, Keith started to cry. Or maybe he’d already been crying, and he was just continuing from where Lance had interrupted him.  

“Th-thanks for looking after Red. You were a great right hand,” he said wetly, sniffing all the while.

“Woah, woah, woah,” said Lance, alarm spiking through his blood at the tone of that sentence. The finality of it.  

“Keith, I’m gonna get you out of here,” said Lance, low and serious.

“I-I’ll miss the others. Glad you’re here, but… I-I wish I could h-have seen the o-others too.” Keith’s voice was so thready, so fragile.

“Don’t, Keith.” snapped Lance. “Anything you want to say to anyone you can say yourself when I take you back to the castle,” he continued sternly, even though internally he was panicking.

He needed to get Keith free now.

Getting a firm grip on the edge of the metal sheet, Lance heaved with all his might. He managed to tip it over, and it crashed back to the floor loudly on its otherside.  

The good news was now he could see Keith, limbs splayed out like a broken doll.

The bad news was that now he could see an inky halo pooled around his body. The sudden tang of rust and salt in the the air gave away what it was; blood. Keith’s blood, rendered almost black under the sickly violet lights. There was so much…

If Lance thought that hearing Keith’s broken voice was heartbreaking, it had nothing on seeing his face. He was so pale, with tears dripping down the sides of his face and his lower lip trembling. He looked scared. Lance had never seen him look scared before.  

Lance fell to his knees beside him, uncaring of the fact that liquid was soaking into the fabric of his pants…

“I’m gonna carry you out of here, you only need to hold on a little longer, okay? Where are you hurt?” asked Lance, pressing a hand to one of Keith’s damp cheeks. He felt so cold…

“M-my back,” Keith whimpered.  

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, his back? What if he moved Keith and that made his injuries worse?

“Which part?” asked Lance, keeping his voice as steady as he could make it. He had to be strong for him.

“L-left side. Something’s s-stabbing me. Fell on it.”

Lance gently slipped a hand underneath Keith’s head, cupping the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, this might hurt,” he said, lifting Keith a fraction and leaning over him to peer at his left side.

Keith let out a groan of pain, and Lance could plainly see why. There was a metal strut embedded in his body, stuck in his lower back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re gonna be okay-” Lance soothed mindlessly as his thoughts raced.

He knew that if he pulled the object out, Keith would bleed out faster and he’d already lost so much blood, but the metal struct was connected to the floor and he didn’t have the equipment necessary to cut it free so leaving it in wasn’t even a viable option… There were tools in Castle. Maybe he could go back, get something and–

No time. Bring now. Interrupted Red.

Red was right, Keith was fading fast. That would take too long and Lance hated the idea of leaving him by himself anyway.

“Keith? I’m gonna count to three, and then I’m gonna pick you up okay? It’s really gonna hurt, I’m really sorry, and I’m gonna run back to the Red to get you back to the castle as fast as I can which will probably hurt you too, and I’m really sorry,” Lance rambled.

“Okay,” replied Keith weakly.

Lance wasn’t ready for this, but the puddle of blood around Keith’s body was growing bigger, so he had to.

“Alright then, on three. One-” He slid his hand that wasn’t cupping Keith’s neck underneath his knees.

“-two-” he looked Keith in the eye, and Keith stared back at him, blinking dazedly.

“-three.”

The sound of the strut leaving the wound was sickening, and the sound of pain that left Keith’s mouth was agonized. It made Lance tear up a little.

“Lance, hurts,” Keith choked out. He didn’t make any move to resist when Lance hauled him up into his arms, even though he made more pained sounds. Lance held him chest to chest, with Keith’s head resting limply on his shoulder so he could avoid putting any strain on his wound.

“I know, I know. C’mon, I got you, just hold onto me,” pleaded Lance, while Red screamed at him to come back now.

Keith managed to flop his arms around Lance’s neck, but actually holding on seemed to be beyond him at that point. His puffs of breath felt too shallow against Lance’s skin, but there was nothing he could do about it. Lance just had to get him back to the castle before he bled out.   

He ran back the way he came, fear and adrenaline giving him speed and strength.

The minute he got into Red and sat down in the pilot seat, Keith on his lap because they were in a hurry and he didn’t exactly have anywhere else to put him, they were off.

Red sped back through the wormhole and back to the castle under his own power, while Lance frantically tried to hail someone. As he pressed buttons, he ended up smearing Keith’s blood all over the dashboard; they’d become soaked from holding Keith. It was hard to believe that Keith even had any more blood left, but Lance clung to tiny rattling puffs of air he felt against his collar which showed that Keith was breathing. Keith was alive.

“Come in! Coran? Allura?!” he yelled the moment he got the com-link connected.

“Lance? What are you doing outside the castle? How did you open that wormhole?” it was Coran. “The doors of the Red lion’s hangar have been–”

“Keith is hurt! He needs a pod, he’s lost too much blood!” Lance screamed, interrupting.

Thankfully, Coran didn’t question him about where he’d been, or how he had Keith. He got right down to business, voice uncharacteristically grave.  

“Allura will meet you in Blue’s Hangar. He may need a blood transfusion, the cryopods can’t replenish lost fluids easily. Do you know if–”

“I’ll donate, I’m universal for humans,” interrupted Lance.  

Minutes later they soared through Blue’s hangar doors, and Red slowed down and landed lightly so as to avoid jostling Keith needlessly.

Lance barely had time to stand, an unconscious Keith gathered into his arms, before Allura was there. She was still wearing her nightgown.

She gasped at the sight of them, but then she seemed to steel herself, and she took Keith’s limp body from Lance as if he weighed no more than a child.

Together they ran.

Even without the burden of Keith’s weight, it was difficult for Lance to keep up with the pace Allura set.

The fabric of his clothes clung to him unpleasantly, wet and sticky with Keith’s blood.

In the infirmary Allura laid Keith out on one of the the beds, and then she and Coran buzzed around him in a flurry of frantic life-saving activity.

“Lance, sit there,” barked Allura, pointing where she wanted him.

While Coran carefully cut Keith out of his Marmora suit, revealing bruises upon bruises, Allura had Lance hold out his left arm so she could attach something that looked like a blood pressure cuff to him.

A needle came next, and then there was a tiny prick, and Lance watched as his blood was siphoned away through a clear tube, into a clear bag.

“Keep your arm straight, and squeeze this,” said Allura, handing Lance something similar to a stress ball. Lance did as he was told.

“How much can we safely take?” asked Coran.

“Take as much as you need,” replied Lance.

“No more than 12%,” said Allura sternly.

By the time they had taken enough of Lance’s blood, performed the transfusion to Keith, and loaded him into a cryopod, Lance’s clothes were dry and crusty. Allura removed the needle from his arm, and pressed a bandaid over the small puncture.

“He’s going to be fine,” Coran proclaimed. Lance was so relieved that he slumped forwards in his seat to press the heels of his hands into his eye sockets in an attempt to prevent himself from weeping in relief. He managed it, just.

“Lance, what happened?” asked Allura carefully, crouching in front of him.

“Red woke me up and took me to him,” replied Lance, sounding dreadfully hoarse. He surreptitiously rubbed at his eyes before dropping his hands from his face completely.

“He was on a crashed Galra destroyer, and a ceiling had collapsed on him.”

“Are you hurt at all, Number Three?” asked Coran.

Lance shook his head.

“How long will he be in there?” Lance asked, gazing at the cyropod.

Keith looked so small and still, so wrong.

“A quintant or two I should think. You did very well getting him back as quickly as you did,” said Coran.

“I think we’d better contact the Blade,” said Allura.

“How about you two go clean up first,” suggested Coran delicately, and that was when Lance realised that much like him, Allura’s clothes were stained with blood.

“Alright, I’ll meet you in the control room. Lance, you should drink something and then you should rest. We took quite a lot of your blood, you’ve done enough for tonight,” said Allura.  

“Alright,” agreed Lance, mostly because now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he was hit by a wave of exhaustion.

He dragged himself to the showers to clean himself up, and had a glass of water before collapsing back into bed and passing out.

When he woke again, it felt like everything that had happened was some sort of nightmare, however the blood-stained clothes in the corner of his room proved otherwise…

Thankfully Allura and Coran had already informed everyone else what had happened so Lance wasn’t required to rehash it again.

Hunk cooked him a big breakfast, and Pidge hoovered by his side, ostensibly tapping away on her laptop while she snuck glances at him.

All of them headed to the infirmary together after Lance had eaten, which was where they found Shiro, staring up at Keith with a pained expression.

“Thank you for getting him out, Lance,” said Shiro, laying his human hand on his shoulder, and giving him a weak smile and a bracing squeeze.

“Did anyone manage to get ahold of the Blades to figure out what Keith was doing there while I was out?” asked Lance.

Everyone’s expressions visibly darkened.

“They said he didn’t make it to the rendezvous point in time, so they left him for dead,” said Hunk.

There was silence for a moment.

“I don’t want him to go back to the blades,” said Lance bluntly.

Pidge and Hunk’s gazes swivelled to Shiro, who sighed heavily.

“It isn’t our decision to make,” he said.

“Well then we need to convince him to make the decision to stay,” said Lance stubbornly.  

“It isn’t fair for us to pressure him to do what we want,” said Shiro evenly.

“Look, when I was watching him bleeding out, he said he was sorry for leaving. He said he’d miss you all, that he wished he could see everyone again.”

Everyone’s expressions fell, and Shiro’s Galra hand clenched into a very tight fist.

“I don’t think he wants to go, I think he just needs to know that he has a place here, even if he isn’t currently piloting a lion,” said Lance softly.   

“Of course he has a place here!” cried Hunk tearfully, staring at Keith in the cryopod like he wanted to yank him out and hug and life out of him.

“I don’t want him to go back to the Blades either,” admitted Shiro.

“So it’s settled, we’re telling him he’s staying,” said Pidge.

“Pidge,” chided Shiro.

“We’ll ask him to stay,” amended Lance.

(Two days later when Keith woke, pleasantly surprised to find that Lance showing up and saving him hadn’t been a figment of his imagination, the others sat him down and asked him to stay.

He cried.)