shining like the stars

12

The suppressant pills did their job, Lance reasoned, feeling more than a little better after having taken one. He hadn't felt the urge to knock over and climb on anyone since they got back to the ship, and he'd actually made it through an entire shower without touching himself once, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

(Especially with an alpha on board.)

He really wasn't interested in examining what any of that meant, because now he had to deal with the fact that everyone knew what he and Keith had been up to; and while it was indeed a small crew, the thought of Pidge or Allura looking at him and knowing was messing with his head. After too many awkward conversations in too short a time Lance retreated to his room to maybe sleep and hope that when he woke in the morning it was to another crisis so he didn't have to think about this one any longer.

The door to his quarters swished closed and he turned on the overhead light, prepared to get into his pajamas. Keith sat up in the bed and squinted angrily at the overhead light, and then turned to glare at Lance, who had frozen in place, jacket half off.

"What? Aren't you going to turn down the light? That florescence is harsh."

Lance regained control of his vocal capabilities after a long moment. "What the fuck are you doing in my bed?" he said.

Keith shrugged and flopped back over onto his side, pulling the covers of Lance's bunk up over his shoulder again, his back to Lance and the door. "Comfy," Keith muttered, as Lance still stood there, frozen in place.

"'Comfy?'" Lance repeated, voice escalating despite himself. "You have your own bed, Keith!"

"Yeah, and I like yours." Keith rolled and sat back up again; Lance realized that his hair was still damp from the showers. "Is there a problem?"

"Damn straight there's a problem! It's my bed!" Lance stomped over to the bunk, his shoes kicked off and made to reach for Keith -- but hesitated, when he got close. He rested both of his hands on the mattress and stared at Keith, who was a little bit pink. "I can smell Shiro on you," Lance said quietly.

Keith looked away.

Lance straightened, and exhaled. "Good," he said dismissively. "It's what you wanted, right?"

Keith still didn't look at Lance. He closed his eyes and sighed, then nodded his head once. "Yeah," he said.

Lance put his hands on his hips and nodded. "Then why the fuck haven't you crawled into his bed?"

"I don't know," Keith said suddenly, in frustration. "I feel safe here, all right? It's comfortable and warm and it smells like you and I feel safe, is that what you want to hear?" He rubbed his hands up and down his arms and still refused to look at Lance. "I don't want to be alone. Again."

There was a long moment, and then Lance let out an aggravated noise and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress, arms folded over his chest. "I don't get any of this," he said angrily. "I don't get you, Keith."

"Sorry I'm so difficult," Keith muttered sourly.

"No you're not," Lance snorted in return.

"Don't tell me how I feel about something!"

Lance rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, then leaned back on his hands and looked at Keith. "Are you in love with me?" he asked, most facetiously. He immediately regretted that course of action when Keith instantly turned beet-red and refused to look him in the face any more. "What! No way."

"I'm not!" Keith said, staring at the plain white wall cast into grey by the shadow of the bunk.

"You just turned red! You're totally in love with me."