Keith came to consciousness slowly, his mind resisting wakefulness with the stubborn iron-heavy drag that could only be from a drug-induced nap. There was a sharp pain tugging around his wrists that helped him ground himself, using the discomfort as an anchor to pull himself back to reality as he slowly pried open his eyes. It took a while for his vision to focus, the image of something very large very close to his face swimming in his eyes for a moment, before he realized that it was some kind of thick pole and his forehead was in fact pressed right against it.
He leaned back only to find himself impeded, and suddenly all of the last traces of drug-stupid wore out of his system all at once because Keith was chained by the wrists to a metal pipeline running from ceiling to floor. He jerked upright, both relieved and horrified to see the unconscious figure of Lance slumped over on the other side of the pipe. When Keith shifted his hands to try to figure out how much leeway he had on the handcuffs, it was better than he'd expected. His arms were wrapped around the pipe with his wrists both bound on the other side, looped over the similarly bound arms of Lance, whose own hands were resting in Keith's lap. That meant he could stand up, even if Lance wasn't able to safely do the same without his handcuffs hitting Keith arms. Still, that gave them both the entire range of the pole's circumference to maneuver in hopes of getting themselves off of this thing. Assuming he could even wake Lance up in the first place, anyway.
"Lance," Keith tried, shuffling a bit to the right so they were closer to being side-by-side and Keith could properly see his neck to be able to check his pulse. It was slowed with unconsciousness but otherwise strong, and Keith felt his body drain free of half his tension just from the confirmation he was still alive at all.
A firm shake to Lance's shoulder and a louder try at his name even had him slowly stirring, and when Lance opened his eyes and responded with a low confused, "Keith?" the relief that washed through him was so intense Keith's spine gave up on him.
He slumped forward, head falling to rest on Lance's thigh with a quiet shudder of his body. "Thank god," he sighed, and he was afraid it probably sounded as broken as he felt right now. "Thank god, you're alright." No brain damage, no drug coma, no spine injury. Lance was alright, and they were together, and… And probably in the middle of an underground Galra base right now. Because of Keith. Because Keith had run head first into a trap like always, and like always it was poor Lance who was the one stuck chasing after him and cleaning up Keith's stupid, stupid messes.
"Keith?" Lance said again, groggily. "Where are we? Did I get handcuffed again? I'm getting really tired of being tied up, it's totally ruined for me as a kink by now."
Keith forced himself to sit back up again. Clarity was returning to Lance's eyes, and he watched as Lance craned his head around frantically to look at the small, vaguely rust-colored room around them. "We're trapped again," Keith confirmed tiredly, not ready to dredge up the motivation necessary for an escape attempt just yet. After a moment of fiddling with his own restraints Lance wound up looking at Keith, and… Then that was it. There they both were, handcuffed to a pole together, and looking at eachother in the eye for the first time in nearly two weeks.
Lance didn't look good. It wasn't just the giant bruise taking up most of one of his cheeks, or dried blood stain at his temple, either. He looked tired, and he was staring at Keith with this lost look on his face like he couldn't even imagine the right words to say to him; eyes tight with worry, mouth pinched into a frown. Keith didn't know what to say, either, but he knew he had to think of something. The tension was way too awkward between them as it was, there's no way either of them would be able to focus completely on getting out of here if they didn't manage to clear the air between them.
Actually, he was lying. Keith did know what he had to say, he just didn't want to do it. But right now Keith wasn't just tense, he was massively overwhelmed, guilt and terror and regret and anxiety and paranoia and yes, even hope, affection and relief because having feelings that didn't contradict themselves would be just too easy for Keith's complicated lifestyle. All of it, all at once, and it was just too god damned much . Lance was still looking at him with that awful look like he'd already been broken and had nothing left for Keith to take and suddenly Keith found that there was no way to keep any of it inside himself anymore. His mouth was opening whether he wanted it to or not and everything he'd been trying so hard to keep contained was pouring out like guilt tsunami.
"I'm sorry ," Keith heard the broken crack of his own voice well enough to understand why Lance's eyes widened in surprise at the sound of it. "I'm so sorry, it's completely my fault we're in this. I didn't - I could have told anyone at any time what I was doing or what I suspected, I could have brought you or Pidge or Shiro but I didn't even CONSIDER it. I just tried to handle everything on my own like I always do, I don't know how to do this Lance. I don't know how to be close to people, I don't know how to rely on people, I don't know how to handle it when people care about me and I just freaked the hell out and tried to run from everything and look where I got us for it!" Keith balled his hands into fists. Lance's jaw hung open, mild panic swimming in his eyes. He still wasn't saying anything though, stunned into silence by Keith's outburst and he couldn't stand to keep looking. Keith's eyes were hot and itchy, and he squeezed them shut with one last croak of "I'm so sorry."
"N-no!" Lance shouted quickly, intercepting him with a rattle of his handcuffs like he'd jerked his hands trying to reach for Keith. "It's totally my fault too! I knew why you were being weird but I didn't try to get Shiro or Pidge or anyone either, just…. Followed you like a moron because I was too worried to think straight." When Keith peeled his eyes open again Lance still looked kind of fucked up and broken, but… probably more in the same way Keith himself was. "Both of the fights we had I started, I'm insecure and needy and I'm the one who should be apologizing to you!"
The breath caught in Keith's throat, and he had to blink clear his suddenly blurry vision as he quickly shook his head. "I definitely started the first one, and the second one only got as bad as it did because of me!" He choked a little, remembering what he had said that night and the look on Lance's face he'd gotten in return. "I didn't- That Shiro thing, you know I didn't mean that at all-"
Lance interrupted, "No no, hold on, I escalated before that with what I said about your shack, you were only-"
"We were both escalating, and, look, you had no way of knowing that was gonna set me off. The Shiro thing, I only said it because I k now about you being insecure and I knew it would be the fastest way to hurt you."
There was a moment where Lance didn't respond in words, just a strange little punched out sigh like he was holding two bags of groceries and had just dropped the keys to his front door. "Well," Lance's voice was tired now, "you certainly called that one right. I guess we both said stupid mean things." He drew in a breath of air, frowning at Keith and saying worriedly, "Look, you gotta… I can't... You gotta stop crying man, it's kind of freaking me out here."
"I'm not crying," Keith denied sharply, and then ruined it with the need to sniffle his nose from running with a nasally snort.
"You - you kind of are though, I can literally see your tears-"
"I'm not crying, YOU'RE CRYING!"
"Not yet, but if you keep going I'm pretty sure I'll catch up," Lance said almost nervously, eyebrows pinched high on his forehead in a worried frown.
And… jesus. This was all so ridiculous, wasn't it? A distorted giggle burst out of Keith's throat, and he tried to jerk his shoulder up enough to wipe his face with his shirt. He didn't quite make it with his arms so awkwardly hooked around the metal pole they were strapped to, and he looked up to see Lance nod towards the sleeve of his own coat in silent offer. Keith accepted without hesitation, burying his face into Lance's shoulder next to him and sniffling into the fabric.
"Did you just blow your nose on my coat?" Lance accused, but his voice was clearly light with unsuppressed laughter.
Keith wiped his face on the coarse material. "...Maybe."
Lance laughed for real this time. "You're so gross, oh my god. Why does this make me happy, I should hate you so much right now."
Keith met him in a small laugh, before sitting upright again away from Lance's arm. For all he said that that made him happy Lance still wasn't smiling, and Keith looked at him expectantly long enough for Lance to speak again. "About that," he started finally. "It's not that I don't trust you or think you're gonna leave me for Shiro or anything. I guess I'm just afraid…" His frown was heavy, and he looked away from Keith's eyes. "That whatever it is you feel for him, it's stronger than... whatever it is you feel about me."
Ah, shit. "That… I understand perfectly." Keith swallowed hard. "I kind of knew that was how you felt, which is why I didn't know how to reassure you about it." Fuck, he'd wanted to avoid this conversation since he still didn't know the right words that would actually make it better for Lance. "The only thing I could come up with was 'Shiro's too important for something as petty as romantic feelings,' which I figured probably wouldn't help. At all."
Lance's eyes rolled to the ceiling like he was praying for help. "Yeah, you definitely called that one right," he said tightly. "Not helpful in the least bit."
The silence was weighed down with awkwardness again, and all Keith could think to do was honestly admit: "I did have a crush on him, back not long after we first met." He wasn't looking at Lance, determined that he probably didn't want to see his reaction. "I even told him. Some kind of… pathetic spontaneous love confession blurted out on accident. He was nice about it at the time but I could tell how hard he was trying not to laugh." Even just remembering it brought up a white-hot surge of humiliation roiling in his stomach. "And the worst part is it was only two years ago, so I can't even brush it off as being just a stupid kid yet."
"But, you did have romantic feelings for him?" Lance's voice more hopeful than resigned, and Keith looked up at him as he confirmed.
"Yeah, at first."
Oddly enough Lance's reaction seemed to be overt relief, relaxing the tense line of his shoulders. "So then, you've already gotten over him," Lance said like the words had lifted a huge weight off of his chest.
Keith blinked. "Thats a good thing?"
Lance leaned back, the cuffs clinking against the pole noisily when he fell back too far and got caught on his own wrists. "Well yeah, that means it's already done with. I mean I guess if anyone's amazing enough to fall in love with twice it's probably Shiro, but I have a feeling I'm safe on that."
Keith let himself relax too, not having expected that admission of all things to be the one that made Lance feel better. "Don't worry, he's definitely not," he said in a sigh. And then, because they weren't done here yet and Keith was determined to keep trying until things were right, began again. "Shiro can't… Shiro can't do the things for me you can anyway."
"Seriously?" Lance looked, at once, both interested and doubtful. "Like what, exactly?"
Keith bit his lip, trying to find the right words. "Well I just mean… Shiro can calm me down when I'm mad and cheer me up when I'm depressed, sure, but. He can't make me laugh." Lance was looking at him now, his gaze heavy and searching, watching Keith like he was waiting for him to lie. "He… Shiro is someone I look up to, you know? But that means I'm too self-conscious around him, I care about what he thinks of me too much to be able to really… relax. At least, not the way I can with you." He looked up to meet Lance's eye again. "You're the only person who... Being around you is almost as comfortable as being by myself. If that makes sense."
Lance blinked a few times, before he broke out into a dry smile. "Actually, considering it's you, that does make sense. I guess I'm honored?"
Keith let himself almost return the smile, adding a watery, "And I've definitely never cried in front of him, either." His smile grew strained and wry. "In fact I think the last time I cried at all is when he… Was after Kerberos." Other than the fight a few days ago, but admitting he cried after that was probably not the greatest way to make the two of them get over that night.
"And you barely even cried at all," Lance's voice was warmer now than Keith had heard from it in weeks. "How do you even cry pretty, that's not fair. I always start sobbing and snotting up like a little kid."
Keith laughed, small and exhausted. And because he couldn't reach for Lance's hand at that moment, just leaned sideways to rest his head against Lance's shoulder instead, needing the physical contact more than anything right now. Lance bowed his neck to rest his head against the top of Keith's, and they let the quiet settle between them into something more comfortable. They let that silence continue between them for what might have been a minute or two, but Keith knew they couldn't stay that way long considering they still needed to get the hell out of here. And before then, while they were already talking, Keith needed to know one thing.
He lifted his head from Lance's shoulder, looking him in the eye seriously. "But… I know I'm the one who started avoiding you in the first place, but I did try, Lance. Why did you..." He closed his eyes for a moment to draw in a deep breath. "When I tried to get close to you again, why did you start pushing me away?"
The tense line of Lance's brow was more confused this time. "When you tried to get close?"
Keith frowned, unable to keep himself from letting his eyes dart away. "The night we were watching that movie… When I tried to talk to you you literally shoved me off."
The twist to Lance's expression managed to convey both surprise and utter bafflement at the same time. "You mean when you went for my dick? That was you trying to talk to me?" He squeezed his eyes shut, a punched out noise deflating him as he groaned, "Oh my god, of course it was you trying to talk to me. Because you're Keith, and you don't use words." His head fell to hang morosely. "God, we are so bad at this!"
That was the understatement of the century. He didn't voice the thought, just waited for Lance to give him a real answer. Lance looked uncomfortable, sighing heavily and avoiding Keith's eyes. "And that… I didn't really want to get into that with you, since it's really a me-specifically kind of problem and not anything that's your fault." He licked his lips, shoulders tense with discomfort again as he stalled for time between words. "You remember that first night we got into Concordia, when I barged into your room?"
Keith nodded, not sure what that night could have to do with anything. That had been the day they had their first argument, but the fight wasn't what Lance had brought up.
Lance could not have looked more uncomfortable if he'd tried. "Before that… I was still so mad at you," he admitted, eyebrows drawn tight in remembered ire. "I didn't want to be, since you apologized, but I couldn't help still being annoyed. And I could smell you in my bed no matter how hard I tried not to think about you, and I've never… I never knew I could want someone and be so mad at them at the same time, you know?" He looked up ahead, staring straight into nothing like he was talking to himself and not Keith. "You drive me so crazy, make me feel things I never even thought I was capable of. Make me madder than anyone ever has in my whole life. I couldn't try to say anything to you about it when I saw how hard you'd gotten off on it, but… " Lance looked back to meet Keith's eye again, distress and remorse painted clear in his expression, and his voice was barely more than a strained whisper as he croaked out, "That night really scared me, Keith. I didn't care about what you wanted or how you felt at all; didn't even bother thinking about it. Like, what if you hadn't gotten totally into it like you did? If you had tried to tell me no, would I have actually listened?"
Well that certainly hadn't been the answer Keith had been expecting. Not sure what on Earth he could say in the face of such an unanticipated concern, he dumbly offered, "Well for one thing, you may be taller than me but you're still not good in close range. I'm pretty sure I could kick your ass if I really needed to."
Lance snorted. "Well, yeah there is that," he agreed flatly. He sighed again, deep and heavy and tired. "But either way, it still freaked me the hell out. So I wanted to avoid having sex until… I don't know, until things felt normal again, I guess."
Keith sagged like a deflated balloon at the realization. "And then our second fight happened," he winced.
"And then that happened instead," Lance agreed.
They really were both terrible at this, weren't they? "Oh my god, Lance, that's… That's not the sort of thing that 'isn't my problem'. You really should have talked to me about this."
A half-bitter scoff. "Yeah, well. We already knew we had a problem with communicating, I guess we just didn't realize how disastrous we really are." They let the conversation die after that, not really sure what else to say.
"So," Lance eventually threw out. "I didn't mean what I said that night, either. It took way too long for you to open up for you to only want me for sex, I was just… Sensitive about the subject and too wound up."
After a few long moments of awkward silence, Keith sighed deeply. "We need to get the fuck out of here."
A matching sigh from Lance. "Yeah…" he agreed. "There's obviously still a lot of shit we need to talk about, but… For now, let's get off of this stupid pipe, please? I'm really not into being handcuffed anymore."
Allowing one last amused snort to huff out of him, Keith made his way to his feet. Lance did the same, and they shuffled their way through an awkward circle around their pole. It became immediately apparent that there was nothing in reach that could be used as a tool, no nearby wall to help with leverage, and of course, their weapons had been stripped of them just in case they thought to root around in each other's pockets for anything useful. After a failed attempt to see if they could just knock the damned pipe down, or even put a stupid dent in the thing the combined power of their entire body weights, they discovered it was all for naught. Which meant the only option they had to work with were the handcuffs themselves.
He hooked his elbow around the back of the pipe so he could look at his own wrists, examining the cold metal of his restraints. No locking mechanism of any kind to pick, but it seemed like the six inches of cable linking the two hands together might have a weakness. He twisted his hands outwards to rest the chain directly against the pipe to check his alignment, shuffled forward to press his chest to the pole and outstretch his arms, then with a brief warning of: "This'll be loud," snapped his arms back as hard and fast as he could. The metallic clang of handcuff meeting pipeline vibrated through both of their entire bodies, leaving a ringing in Keith's ears and exactly zero damage to the handcuffs.
"Ow," Lance said dully, which was a bit ridiculous for him to be the one complaining when Keith had had his entire torso pressed against the stupid thing. "Could we maybe not try that again?"
Considering how little help the move had been, Keith had no trouble agreeing. His wrists were sore where the hard edge of the cuff had bitten into his skin. He looked at the red rings running halfway around his arm, and realized that they'd been able to cut into him like that because there was a little bit of leeway. Just a tiny bit of space between metal and skin, and Keith wiggled and scrunched his hand in attempt to see if he could just slip the cuff off in that tiny bit of space.
Not quite… Keith bit his lip, knowing what came next after this. He had practiced this move a dozen times in his youth, but never needed it in a real-life situation. If he screwed this up he'd only be worse off than they had been before, but… The handcuffs were only attached to each other and not the pipe. All he needed was to get one hand loose and he'd be completely free.
Ah, hell. Looks like he was doing this, then. He glanced over at Lance who had sat back down himself, apparently examining his own wrists with similar intent to Keith's own. He was preoccupied, which was good since if he saw Keith trying to do this he might object to the idea.
Let's see, Keith was mainly left handed, but ambidextrous enough to have a habit of fighting with his knife and throwing things with the right hand instead. So if he was gonna fuck up one of his hands, the better one in this situation would be… Well, fuck he was left-handed. He only knew how to do this to his right hand, anyway.
Having settled that and therefore no reason left to stall, Keith grabbed his own right thumb. He drew in a sharp breath of air to steel himself, reopened the eyes he'd slammed shut because he actually did need to see what he was doing, and on the exhale of his breath leaving his lungs yanked the finger backwards towards his own wrist.
"FUCK! " He hissed, having forgotten just quite how much that move hurt. Lance was jerking his head up and trying to scramble over to Keith to see what happened, but Keith paid him no mind. First he needed to finish popping the joint out of place, pulling the thumb back outward and folding it down towards his palm.
"What the sh- what did you just do?!" Lance asked frantically, even as he watched Keith fold his dislocated thumb and pinkie finger into each other so he could squirm his hand out of the cuff.
"Got my ass out, what's it look like," Keith muttered, wincing at the hard scrape of metal against his skin as he slid free.
As he'd suspected he might, Lance disapproved. "By breaking your own thumb?! We only looked for a way to get out for like, two minutes how did you go STRAIGHT to 'Let's break our hands to escape?!'"
"I didn't break it," Keith corrected in a grunt. "I just dislocated it. Now please shut up because I still need to pop it back in."
Lance did indeed shut up, and then proceeded to watch in horror as Keith clenched his teeth and snapped his joint back in place. There was a feeling of instant relief cutting through the pain, but not enough to stop the aching throb left behind. He shook the hand out to try to regain a bit of normal feeling, but there really wasn't much he could do about it. Well, that's just how today was going, right? Maybe it'd help distract him from the headache he'd regrown when he tried to break the cuffs on the pipe.
He stood up, and realized all at once how stiff his shoulders had gotten from being strung out around the pipe for so long. Rolling them a bit, Keith went straight for the door, figuring he might as well try the most obvious answer first.
"H-hey, what about me?" Lance stuttered with a rattle of metal that was probably him standing up. "You're just gonna leave me stuck here like this!?"
It didn't budge in the least bit, and there was no real handle or keypad or locking mechanism of any kind. So much for the easy way out. "Well I can't pick your cuffs, they don't have locks. I'll figure something out once I'm sure we can even get out of here," he said shortly, surveying the rest of his surroundings. The room was even smaller than the one Veret had lured them to to fight, more gray and rusted pipes running from wall to wall and floor to ceiling all over the small space. There was even a huge whitish cylinder that looked like a water heater, so this was definitely some kind of boiler room.
Lance made a pitiful noise of protest at the dismissal, and Keith at once realized he'd just done it again. Prioritizing the mission over Lance's feelings. Well, shit, it wasn't like Keith could actually get him out of the damned cuffs, though. Maybe he could say something to make him feel better? Ahhh, fuck, Keith sucked so hard.
"Uhhhh," he started awkwardly, still not turning back around to face Lance yet. Shit, what could he say that would be reassuring? What were some of the things they had just talked about, what could he use from there… "Um," and what was on that shelf over there? Cleaning products, maybe? Wait, shit, Lance… The Shiro thing, that was right - they'd established there wasn't any romantic tension, but Lance's actual concern hadn't really been that in the first place, had it? "I-I just mean, uh…" But wait, that's because there really wasn't a resolution. Keith's feelings for the two of them were way too different, there was no way to quantify one being 'more' or 'less' than the other. What the hell did he say in that case, then? And if he tried fiddling around with those bottles of chemicals would he just poison them both? Wait, how long had it been since he'd actually spoken? "As, as far as that Shiro thing goes, I promise you have more to worry about from Hunk."
"Wait, what? " Lance squawked. Wait. He was right. Why HAD Keith just said that? "How did we even get here from escaping?!"
Keith cringed, turning around to assess the damage. Lance was slacked-jawed like he'd been slapped by a fish, and Keith eloquently offered, "Er, that didn't quite come out… I just meant that..."
"Meant what?!" Lance looked at him expectantly, eyebrows comically staggered in horror. And Keith… had no way of saving this situation.
Ah, fuck it. Keith sighed. Then, with no shame left, threw out his arms and blurted, "Well, have you SEEN the guy?! He's like a wall of beef! One of his thighs is the size of my entire freakin' waist, and yes I noticed because I'm gay and everyone in space is hot."
A strangled-goose noise croaked out of Lance's throat. "You - I - He- My best friend…" His face contorted, one eye twitching as that dying-frog sound once again rattled out of him for a few drawn out seconds, ending with a frustrated bark as Lance crowed out, "And I can't even be mad because you're right! He's like a big sweet teddybear that can cook, and I'm like, so conflicted because normally I'm all for someone appreciating by best bro, but… KEITH!"
Keith shrugged again. "I still like you better?" To be honest Hunk was a little yellow-bellied for Keith's tastes on any kind of long-term level. Would saying that help or hurt right now? This time, Keith was gonna try not saying The Stupid Thing and see how that worked out for him.
Lance rattled and goose-honked for another few moments, jerking an arm towards Keith to try and fail to point at him and instead just banging his cuffs against the pole instead, and declared with absolute righteous indignation, "If I die, you aren't allowed to get together with him for a full year! I demand AT LEAST that much mourning!"
Keith felt a bubble of laughter stop in his throat, and figured if that was his reaction Lance was probably fine. Okay, let's see about getting out of here, then. "I don't know," he said as he turned back to the shelf he hadn't finished assessing. "A whole year seems kind of excessive to me. I feel like I could get over your tragic death in less time than that."
Another indignant squawk. "TRAITOR! Five! Five years mourning! Plus another one for every year we were together before I died!"
The shelf looked unstable, and when Keith shoved around some of the items occupying it he noticed that the whole shelf seemed to be blocking something on this wall. "See now that sounds reasonable, but that means if you die in five years I can't hook up with your best friend for a full ten. How about instead," he gripped two of the metal legs of the shelf set, "we give you a nice six months. That's plenty of mourning time."
"TEN! TEN YEARS!"
"I'll tell you what," Keith started pulling the rack off to the side one hard shove at a time, "we will do you the courtesy of not hooking up AT your funeral. We'll wait til the end out of respect."
"OH MY GOD, KEITH!"
Keith smothered his laughter into his shoulder as he pulled the shelf off to the side, kicking his way around the plastic bottles of cleaners that had fallen off during shelf displacement as he went back to the newly emptied space. Aw fuck yes, Keith had been right - an air vent high up near the ceiling, and it even looked big enough for Keith to be able to worm his way through. "Hey, I think there might be a way out of here if I can get this vent grate off," he tossed out to Lance, running his fingers along the seams where metal met wall to look for a gap.
"Your headband," Lance returned with absolutely zero enthusiasm.
Quire confused, Keith turned back to him with a startled "Huh?"
Lance nodded upwards to signify the general area of Keith's head. "You're still wearing the headband I gave you, you can probably use that."
Keith blinked for a moment, stunned that he himself had forgotten about a knife he'd had on his person literally at all times since he'd gotten it. "You're a fucking genius," he said in a fast breath, yanking the plastic band out of his hair with the brief sensation of his bangs floofing back into his face. He flicked the blade straight and immediately found it thin enough to slip between the grate and wall to start to pry it loose.
"So you've found a way out already," Lance sounded resigned. "Okay, guess I know what that means for me, then."
Keith threw one last quizzical glance at Lance over his shoulder, but went back to his work when he only saw Lance still sitting in the same place he'd left him. He'd deal with figuring out how to get Lance out in a minute, maybe he could find some joint in the handcuffs with the knife he had. Slowly he continued to edge his way around the corner of the grate, climbing up onto one of the nearby metal shelf rungs like a ladder to get at the top of it.
Having edged around the vent he slid the knife in as deep as he could shove it, adjusting his grip to gain leverage as he prepared to pry the vent cover off. Just as he was about to pull there was a clamor of noise behind him, a loud metallic clang and the unmistakable sound of Lance's voice shouting in agony startling Keith into jerking around to look at him.
Lance was doubled over around the pipe, closed eyes already visibly tearing up from the pain. "Lance!" Keith scrambled off the shelf towards him. "What happened, are you okay?"
"It's nothing," Lance rejected quickly through gritted teeth. "I, uh. I was trying to stand up but my foot got caught on the cuffs and I slammed into the pipe a little." He gave a quick shake of his head, still trembling a little as he nodded back towards the vent. "I'm fine, you concentrate on getting us out of the room."
"If you're sure you're okay." A little wary, Keith went back to his task with minor reluctance. Resteadied his grip on the knife, and with a few hard pushes popped the vent cover off the wall, and even managed to only break off three of his knife's serrated teeth in the process.
And then immediately found out he should not have trusted Lance by himself. Another metal clang, not as loud as before but instead coupled with a muffled curse and a sickeningly familiar snap.
Keith wrenched himself off of the shelf so fast he didn't even land right, falling straight to his knees and clamoring up to run to Lance. "What did you do?! "
Lance had the collar of his trenchcoat clenched in his teeth, tears streaming down his face. It didn't stop him from gritting his teeth into the fabric one last time, and Keith got to the other side of the pipe just in time to see Lance wrench his left hand through the metal loop of his handcuff, red and misshapen with obvious brokenness. He let the jacket fall from his mouth only to whimper miserably, and the first thing he did with the newfound freedom of his arms was snatch his injured hand to his chest to curl around it as he forced the continued stream of pained moaning to stop in his throat with a single choked sob.
"Lance, Lance you gotta give me your hand," Keith implored, one hand on Lance's shoulder to gently coax him back upright. He pulled Lance's arm to draw his hand out, carefully prodding at the injury to test the extent of the damage. Every slight bit of pressure was met with a hiss or wince of pain from Lance, and with resigned horror Keith sighed, "It's definitely broken. Probably snapped at least two metacarpals." Lance didn't respond with much more than a groan, and after another minute of gentle examination Keith declared "I can probably set one of them back into place but I don't think I can help a whole lot without actively slicing your hand open."
"Oh god," Lance gasped. Pulled the collar of his coat back into his mouth and bit around it, "Fine, do it. Do whatever, just do it now."
Not giving either one of them time to think about it, Keith shoved at one of the odd protrusions on the back of Lance's hand, and with a disgusting pop felt something slide back into place. A single miserable grunt and Lance doubled over again, head landing on Keith's shoulder with an exhausted shudder. "Oh, Lance," Keith said softly, the hand that wasn't still holding Lance's landing on his head instead. "What were you thinking? There were other ways we could have gotten you out."
Lance chuckled darkly into Keith's shoulder, sounding about halfway between crying and hysterical laughter. "Apparently not considering it's what you did, too."
Keith felt frustration surge up to mix with his worry, and he had to retrain himself from snapping. "No it is not because I knew how to put mine BACK! Hell if you had just told me you were going to do it I could have dislocated your thumb for you, we didn't have to fucking…"
"Oooh, no," Lance's voice was strained, but he sounded like he had just about collected himself. He lifted his head back up, and used his good hand to wipe at his tear-streaked face as he firmly stated, "If one of us is gonna break my hand, it's gonna be me." Which, what the hell even?
A great urge to yell at Lance welled within Keith, but he forced it down. Instead he settled on hissing, "You have severe problems with self-preservation that we need to talk about," as he peeled off one of his long gloves, the only thing on hand he could think of to use to bind Lance's hand up on short notice. A quick slice of his hair knife had the gloves sliced into two separate ribbons, and he gestured at Lance to give his hand back.
"Quoth the kettle," Lance grumbled, but offered out his hand for Keith to start wrapping up regardless. "Do you even know what you're doing?"
"No, but would you rather I do nothing?"
A pause. "No," Lance huffed. "Tie that fucker up."
It only took a minute or two of work before Lance's hand was wrapped up and tied, bound up like a mummy wearing mittens. He wiggled the bound thumb to test its range, and the two of them were faced with the reality that there was really nothing left to do for it but try to escape.
Neither of them moved. Keith wasn't sure exactly why he wasn't doing anything yet considering there'd been little else besides escape on his mind since the instant he woke up bound, but… It felt like there was still some kind of unfinished business. Something that had to be done or said before they could move on, before either of them could hope to concentrate. He just… wasn't sure what it was.
At first it seemed like Lance wasn't sure, either. But he ended up being the first out of the two of them to move, and with a look of something Keith wanted to call resolve he stepped forward to close the last foot of space between them.
When Lance's arms wrapped around his shoulders there was no moment of tense surprise. Keith instantly relaxed into it, eyes sliding closed as his own arms looped low around Lance's waist and he buried his face in his boyfriend's neck. Inhaled a deep breath of air through his nose, melting into the familiar scent of Lance's body, which had worn off of the coat Keith had stolen from him weeks ago now. A feeling not quite like any he'd ever felt before washed over Keith like a slow tide; if he had to put a name to it the closest he could think was 'coming home.'
He didn't know how long they ended up staying there like that. Locked in an awkward hug with their handcuffs digging into each other's backs, too grateful for the warmth of their bodies pressed together to care about the discomfort. It didn't matter, really. They had both needed this for far too long.
----
"As much as I enjoy the view of your ass in my face, sweetie, if we don't get out of these quiznaking air vents soon I'm gonna suffocate and die," Lance complained mildly from somewhere behind Keith, his voice echoing up and down the small space.
Keith didn't blame him. Barely minutes after they'd crawled into the vent the strange chemical-clean scent of Concordia's city wide air conditioning had started to grow strong enough to be nearly overwhelming, and it became readily apparent that they had somehow gotten themselves wound up in the city's underground ventilation system. This stuff was obviously fine to breathe in small doses, considering it was literally pumped into Concordia's streets, but air conditioners on Earth worked on freon and Keith knew you didn't wanna be strapped in a vent inhaling that shit. "Well if you have any ideas on how to get out of here then by god, man, take the fucking lead." Now it had been nearly a half hour, because every single path they went down so far ended at a dead end or turned into a shaft too small to fit their bodies through, and they'd ended up doing an absurd amount of awkward back pedaling. Once again, Concordia proved to have been designed by the worst video game programmers in history.
A few more minutes of shuffling only to reach another intersection; a fork dividing the path ahead. So far, every intersection they'd taken had been the wrong one. And after what felt like about seven hours of crawling around in here, Keith was starting to think maybe that's because there was no right one. Maybe that boiler room was the only place in the whole fucking city that had a vent shaft large enough to fit through lead directly into it. Maybe they'd die in here like rats and their corpses would pollute the cities air supply with the smell of rotting flesh.
Keith sighed, stopping mid-crawl at the three-way because he wasn't ready to deal with another wrong turn yet. Tapped his fingers absently while he tried to draw a visual map of how many lefts and rights they'd been taking versus how much time they'd spent crawling. Furrowed his eyebrows when something sounded off. Tapped again. Looked down at his hand to see the barely-present wedge of a handle on the far side near the dead-end, and with a grating metallic slide pulled it over to open up a blocked pathway that had been preventing the air from being redirected downward.
"What was that sound?" Lance asked, not quite panicking.
"An idea," Keith answered simply, and without hesitation swung his legs inside and dropped down the hole.
"OH MY GOD, why do you keep doing these things?!"
Lance's voice grew instantly dim as Keith fell, far further than he'd expected. After when felt like fifty feet of dropping, he hit the bottom of the shaft with a loud clatter and sore ankles. Looked down at his feet to see little slots of light where a room opened up below, and before he could say anything back up to Lance heard an echoed thump that could only be Lance jumping down to join him. In a space that was just barely as broad as only Keith's shoulders. "Oh, god Lance, no!"
A loud thump echoed metallically up and down the vent shaft as Lance landed on top of his boyfriend, bowling them both over and and wedging them in an awkward tangle at the bottom. It took a full minute of kicking and scrambling at each other before Lance shimmied himself back up the vent far enough for Keith to be able to sit back up, and after come careful rearranging both of them were… Sort of standing.
"Well, now what?" Lance asked in a tired huff.
Keith looked down at the grate under their feet. "Jump, I guess?"
Lance sighed and planted his palms on the walls to start shimmying his way back up the vent shaft.
It took two more ten foot drops before the grate broke under their weight, greeting Lance and Keith with the beautiful reality that was yet another ten foot drop to the ground.
Lance rolled over off of Keith, flopping onto his back on the floor. "I don't know who I hate more right now, you or myself."
"I think I'm probably the safe bet," Keith sighed. "How's your hand?"
"Hurts like shit," Lance grunted as he pushed himself upright.
Keith gradually raised himself to his own feet. Finally looked around the room, which seemed… Very large and very empty, for the most part. Cold brick-laid walls, probably forty feet apart form each other. The only light in the room was coming from the hallway of the open doorway on one side not far from them. "You gonna be alright if we get into a fight?"
"Yeah," Lance said, and the almost dismissive tone in his voice made Keith inclined to believe him. "I'll just stay behind you until you can get me a gun. I don't really need the hand itself to aim, I can just rest the barrel on my wrist." He shrugged. "Most laser rifles have like, zero kickback anyway."
Keith couldn't help but look at Lance with raised eyebrow, not sure if he was more impressed by his nonchalance or worried. "You seem. Unusually confident, even for you." Or rather, it was something more exhausted than his usual fake bluster.
A dry smile was Lance's answer, and the fact that he didn't even have the energy to boast was definitely more worrying than reassuring. "I broke this same arm when I was thirteen, got into the habit of making sure I could do everything with just my right hand if I need to." Looked around the room himself, craning his head around when he spotted the door. "I can drive a car with just this hand, but so far I've been having less luck trying to pilot Blue."
Looks like Keith wasn't the only one who'd picked up a bit of crazy. Did that make Keith feel better or worse? Better, oddly. Instead of saying something in any way helpful or contributive, Keith found himself asking, "What if you break your right arm and not your left?"
Lance shrugged casually. "I try not to."
Outside the room was a hallway that reminded Keith of a sewer, and if Keith hadn't been sure they were underground before he was now. He didn't know what kind of place this really was though; the lights and occasional conspicuous black orb of a video camera strung through the ceilings told that it had to be of at least some importance, but the only rooms they'd come across had been locked or empty. Mostly it was just these wide hallways, walls arching together into a dome with a long stripe of lights at the apex, an off-white ribbon of brightness cutting through the dark.
They were quiet as they moved. Something about the underground they'd landed in felt heavy, the air thick with the damp smell of earth and the weight of impending danger. The first time they heard the scattered voices of Galra soldiers they weren't even surprised, just stopped and backtracked to try another way around, creeping through the dim stone halls on silent feet.
For many slow, trepidatious minutes this continued, Keith's grip on his tiny knife solid and ready the whole way through. For all the seemingly endless miles of empty passageways this place had, there were very few action options they could take. Probably because the path was so unnervingly straightforward, but time and time again bootsteps and deep voices echoed through the underground around them, forcing them into retreat after retreat to avoid being caught.
The concept of time was nearly incomprehensible at this point. They had no idea how long they'd been unconscious from the drugs, no idea how long they'd been in the vents. They had no way to tell if they'd been wandering around underground for hours, even if Keith doubted it really had been that long. But they were starting to realize that getting into a fight might just be completely unavoidable; Keith had been right in assuming the Galra base was hidden underground, because they were running into more here than they'd seen in the last Galra battlecruiser they'd been in. Okay, that was because they'd passed like six droids and then blew the whole ship up, but still. There was an uncomfortably large number.
Eventually the hallways they'd wandered into came to an end, but not in the usual way. Keith and Lance stopped at the edge of where the tunnel ended, not stepping past the walls they hid in on the increasingly high chance there was someone around that corner on the other side. But they could tell from here that the hall spilled out into room with a much higher ceiling, going on at least thirty feet ahead before the nearest wall and no sign of how far in either direction left or right. Either way, once they stepped out there they'd be visible, which meant they needed to know for sure if anyone was on the other side before they went barreling in unarmed and unprepared.
Keith edged his way to the end of the wall, peeking his head around to assess his surroundings. The right looked like it went on to end with a giant, possibly-spaceship-sized metal door, but it was sealed closed top to bottom and no one was around it. It also didn't look like it could be opened, though. And to the left…
Keith jerked backwards into the smaller tunnel again, backpedaling int Lance's chest and feeling his blood boil to life in his veins. "There are only three," he whispered without stepping away from Lance. "I think we should take them."
Lance bit his lip nervously, stepping around Keith to cautiously edge half his face out to take a look himself. When he came back he was frowning, but he quietly agreed, "This is a better spot tactically than anywhere else we've been today." He met Keith's eye. "Cat and mouse?"
"Well…" Keith wondered if that meant he hadn't seen the one member among the little party outside that wasn't Galra. "I think we might be dealing with a more… cat and cat versus another cat with a couple of mice nearby situation. But since there's still only two of us we might have to just..."
Lance nodded, line of his shoulders tight and right hand visibly twitching from want of his bayard. "Play it cat and mouse anyway," he finished. "Just get one of their guns and kick it back here to me, and I'll lure away whoever I can." He drew in a harsh breath and held it in for a moment, whole body shuddering when it expelled. And then, the disquieting look of hopeless calm was wiped from Lance's face and replaced with with an all-too familiar cocky grin, and he slapped his hand to his chest to only barely quietly declare, "We're gonna wipe those suckers out before they even knew what hit them! Just trust me, babe, everything will be allright!"
The false confidence Lance blustered up when times were hard. He was terrified right now, and needed to pretend he wasn't. Keith smiled a little bit, relieved Lance was back to his usual self. That fear would help keep him alive, and the fact that he was even still trying to reassure Keith was… Well. Reassuring. "Yeah, I do. I believe in you Lance. Watch my back for me."
Lance blinked rapidly, sputtering, "W-what?" with genuine startlement that widened his eyes adorably.
Keith smiled, looking Lance in the eye. "I have faith in you? So. Make sure to be badass enough to make me swoon."
To his great entertainment, Keith noticed that Lance's ears were the first thing to turn red, spreading inwards across his cheeks until his whole face was alight with a blush. "B-but of course!" he choked out in a stutter, glowing like Keith had given him a medal. He collected himself in only a moment, falling serious and putting his good hand on Keith's shoulder. "But be careful out there, okay? If it looks like we're in over our heads we run, even if it means splitting up. Got it?"
Keith nodded, knowing that even humiliating retreats like that were an option in times of war. "I know. I promise I won't try to handle everything by myself." Again. Like how he'd gotten captured today in the first place. Or that time he tried to steal Quintessence. Or set off a bomb in a government facility to try to save Shiro. Or directly attacked Zarkon... Jesus christ, Keith was stupid.
Lance released his hold on Keith's shoulder with one last pat, giving a reassuring smile and cheering, "Go surprise the shit out of them. Stab Veret right in his stupid face."
Keith had to bite the laugh that threatened to escape back into a snort as he turned around to face the open ship bay again. Okay so much for Lance not noticing. "Thank you for understanding," he whispered with a grin as he crouched low and carefully peered around the corner again.
He watched for a moment, assessing how long he'd be able to hide in the shadow of the wall as he moved before Veret spotted him. Drew in one final long, deep breath to steel himself, heart pounding loud and steady in his chest as he fell into the thrilling tempo of battle readiness. And, armed with naught but a plastic headband and thirst for blood, Keith threw himself around the corner and into the dark.
--