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Keith feels like shit when he finally docks on Diabazaal.
There was a skirmish between two warring races on Irebey, so he’d spent four days longer than intended trying to broker peace. His back is throbbing from bending down for a week straight since the Irebese are only about 3 feet tall and all their buildings reflect that, it’s been at least two days since he slept, about that long since he’d eaten, too, since the food on Irebey didn’t really agree with him and he’d run out of rations due to the unexpected delay, and to top it all off, he’s got some kind of sticky goo in his hair. Something he could only describe as a glue bomb was one of the weapons of choice for the Irebese, and though he’d managed to get it out of everything else, his hair is still coated in it. He’s going to need to cut it off.
And the worst part is, Krolia will be gone by the time he gets home. He’s got the entire giant mansion house to himself; not even Kosmo will be there since Krolia took him on her own mission.
Just Keith. Sore and tired and covered in glue. In a giant house. Alone. On a planet where he only knows his mom.
Great.
He’s getting used to it, but his place with Krolia still doesn’t exactly feel like home. It’s a house - a very, very nice house full of literally anything Keith could think to ask for and several things he definitely doesn’t need - and there’s a tiny part of it that makes him feel like he’s back in the system, creeping around a living space that isn’t his. Not that he’d tell Krolia that - Gods, no, she’d feel horrible about it. He just needs to get adjusted and spend enough time there for it to sink in.
The thought of calling someone to take him to the house has occurred - he’s Krolia’s son, the former Black Paladin, a Blade Leader, one of the minister’s people would jump at the chance to help him out - but it’s also very late, or early morning, honestly Keith couldn’t even tell at this point. He doesn’t want to wake anyone up just to drive him a mile, so he trudges to the house himself, bag weighing heavily on his sore shoulders, and it takes him about five times just to get the key into the lock.
There’s a moment then, as he shoves open the door and stumbles inside, that all his senses go on alert. Maybe it’s an ability that he picked up during the war or maybe it formed earlier than that, but everything is screaming at him, adrenaline seeping into his veins, because someone is in the house.
As if this day couldn’t get any worse, now he has this to deal with? There are still a few Imperial loyalists out there, and apparently they’ve decided that now is a good idea to try to get the jump on Keith, when he’s tired and cranky and lonely and wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for the next phoeb. But he can see the light on in the kitchen from here, he can hear someone making noise as if they’re opening cabinets and taking out dishes, so at least they’re not very smart loyalists.
He silently lowers his bag to the ground and grips his knife, sneaks into the kitchen, and rushes in just as the person turns around.
The knife stops about half an inch from Lance’s eye.
He doesn’t even flinch.
“Geez, nice to see you, too,” he grumbles.
“Lance?? What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you get my message?”
“Tablet lost its charge on Irebey,” Keith says.
“Ah. Well, Krolia contacted Shiro on The Atlas to tell him that you were having some problems and could probably use some TLC when you got home, but they were headed out on a sort of urgent supply run, so Ronnie contacted me, and I cleared my very busy schedule to come visit.” Lance lifts the knife out of his lax hand and reaches around to slip it into its sheath, which Keith takes as permission to slump all of his weight against Lance. Lance automatically brings both arms up to steady him, one curving around Keith’s middle and the other cupping the back of his head, though that earns him a sound of disgust.
“What the fuck did you do to your hair?”
And Keith maybe starts crying, just a little bit, because it’s late and he’s tired and Lance is here and Keith really doesn’t want to cut off his hair, he’d been proud of how long it had grown and how nice of a braid it had made recently.
“Ah. I’m guessing that wasn’t a choice?”
“Glue bombs,” Keith says, and Lance tuts in response as he starts to try to comb through it.
“Go get in the bath,” he says eventually. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
So Keith drags himself down the hall, picking up his discarded bag on the way, flips on the taps, laboriously takes off his armor, and sinks into the tub. While he probably didn’t need a bathtub the size of a hot tub, he wasn’t about to complain right now. He reaches over with his toes to switch on the jets and is just starting to work out some of the knots in his back when Lance wanders into the room. With a jar of honest-to-god peanut butter in his hands.
“If that peanut butter is for some kind of sex act, I’d love to try it tomorrow but I’m not really in the mood tonight,” he says, relishing the way Lance’s face immediately turns bright red.
“Hilarious.” Then Lance is stripping out of his clothes too, shuffling into the water behind Keith and pulling Keith to rest against his chest.
“Seriously, though, what’s the peanut butter for? I didn’t even know I had peanut butter.”
“You didn’t,” Lance says, “I brought this myself. I was expecting to have it for a snack tomorrow, but this works, too. There was a bully at school growing up who liked to put gum in Rachel’s hair. Mama always used peanut butter to get it out, and I figure if it works on earth gum, might as well try it on Irebese glue, right? Lean back,” Lance instructs, and then Lance is gently massaging his scalp and Keith just melts. There’s a little occasional tugging as Lance tries to work out the old glue, but mostly it’s just a pleasant sensation of fingers running through his hair and Keith can’t help but hum a little in contentment. The peanut butter smell is an odd addition, but if it works Keith’s hardly going to complain.
He must drift off, because his eyes slip closed, and when he opens them again they’re out of the tub and Lance is wrapping him in a giant fluffy robe he doesn’t remember owning. Keith feels blissfully clean, bringing a clumsy hand up to inspect his hair.
“I think I got it all. Might need to check again tomorrow once it’s dry, though. Come on,” and then Lance is tugging at his arms, trying to get him upright, and Keith can’t help but groan unhappily back at him.
“”M so fucking tired, Lance.” It doesn’t matter. He’ll sleep on the floor like this, it’s fine. He’s comfortable enough here.
“I know,” Lance gentles. “Just bear with me for a few more minutes, okay?”
Lance gives up, then, on getting Keith standing and just picks him up by the back of his thighs, letting Keith cling to him like a very tired koala as he walks them into the bedroom. Lance takes a moment to gape at the size of the room (holy shit, you weren’t kidding, were you?) before getting them settled on the bed. Keith finds himself resting in the V of Lance’s lap as Lance reclines against the headboard, and there’s a mug of warm something placed into his hands.
“Krolia also mentioned that you probably didn’t have enough rations with you for the trip,” Lance says, “so Hunk made you some soup and you’re going to eat it because I know you’re hungry, you’re just too tired to realize it right now.”
It’s good, of course it is, Hunk made it and it’s got those little mushrooms from Puig that Hunk knows he likes so much, and Lance is right, he is hungry, but Keith still keeps nodding off and Lance has to nudge him awake several times so he doesn’t spill soup all over the bed. He finally manages to drain the mug and Lance takes it gently out of his hands before shuffling them down into the bed.
“Ok. Now you can go to sleep.” So Keith shifts clumsily in Lance’s arms, managing to get tangled up in the sheets before he finally flips over onto his front in his preferred sleeping position, sprawled completely on top of Lance in something that Lance has taken to describing as “a drunken octopus searching for a hug.”
“How long’re you here?”
“How long do you want me to be here?”
“F’rever,” Keith mumbles, far too tired to be embarrassed.
“Oh, well then,” Lance says. “Guess I’ll stay forever. Also, Shiro's going to be here in a couple days once The Atlas gets back from the supply drop on Tafriz.” That would be nice. Keith hasn't seen him recently, and he doesn’t think Shiro’s ever been to Daibazaal, so maybe he can show him around. “Goodnight, Keith,” Lance whispers, pressing a kiss to Keith’s temple. "Love you."
Keith has already slid more than halfway into sleep but manages a mangled 'love you too' in reply. He’s clean and fed and warm and safe and snuggled up against someone he’s only seen via video-call for the past two phoebs.
And with Lance here, the house feels so much more like home.