Prompts: Broken Window/Bruises/"Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble."
Keith awoke at the crash.
He shot up, scanning the room. His door was still closed. It was dark, but everything seemed to be in order. He swung his socked feet down off the side of the bed. Bending in half, he checked under the bed. Nothing. Standing, he snatched his baseball bat off the desk as he approached the closet. As he moved across the room, he faintly heard something, or rather someone, muttering rapidly in a language he did not understand. And that was a sound he was all too familiar with.
He rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile that tugged at his lips that disappeared when he saw the window. It was broken, a jagged hole (perfect size for a baseball) wafted cold air into the room. Glancing at the floor, he picked up the ball in question, squeezing it tight as he calculated how much the window might cost. Gritting his teeth he marched back to the window and threw it open.
"Assholes!" he whisper-shouted down at the three figures on the lawn. "Which one of you fuckers is paying for my window?"
Pidge pointed an accusing finger as Hunk nodded along.
"¿Por qué no te callas?¹" Lance asked dramatically.
Keith leaned out the window frame and threw the ball back at him with a little more force than necessary. Lance caught it easily, as expected of their pitcher. His cheeks were flushed with visible distress as he anxiously fiddled with his mitt. Well, it's not like he meant to break his window.
"So...you coming down or what?" Pidge prompted.
"I'm still grounded," Keith reminded them.
"We know," Hunk affirmed. "Just like how we know the comet won't be back until you're thirty and boring and don't care about cool stuff anymore."
"That's tonight?"
Dammit. He really wanted to see that comet.
He checked the time on his phone. 01:47 a.m. Best viewing conditions were said to be around 3:15 a.m.
"Come on! We'll get you back before anyone wakes up," Lance promised.
Like he could deny that boy anything.
"Fine," Keith looked down at himself, he was just in his boxers and socks. "One minute, let me get dressed."
He grabbed his black baggy jeans and his retro GoLion hoodie that Shiro had passed down to him when he got too beefy. He grabbed a stick of gum and shoved it in his pocket. Just in case. He didn't bother tying the laces to his combat boots before he climbed out the window.
Getting down from here would be so much easier if there was a tree nearby like how it was in all the movies. Instead, he lay down on his stomach and swung his legs over the edge of the roof. He carefully shimmied himself down until only his arms held him up.
"I gotcha, buddy, go ahead and let go," he heard Hunk's voice below him.
He dropped and Hunk caught him easily.
"You didn't bring the bat," Pidge observed as Hunk set him down.
"No?" Keith looked around. They all had their mitts. And were dressed considerably warmer than him in their layers and beanies.
"It's fine!" Lance interjected. "A falta de pan, tortillas.² We can just play catch!"
"Like how that window caught your last throw?" Hunk sniggered.
