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It starts as an absent minded thing, something to keep his hands busy in the quiet room until it became a calming mechanism to tonight’s stress. Tracing his fingers across Keith’s back, barely touching skin, from freckle to freckle, from mole to mole, from battle scars to battle scars. It’s beautiful, it truly is. (And the way Keith hums ever so softly is music to his ears.)
“You’re so fucking pretty,” Lance mutters under his breath at length. It leaves his mouth before he has time to stop it; he doesn’t even realizes he says it until Keith laughs.
Keith doesn’t say anything, however, and Lance isn’t quite sure if he like it better like that. Instead he continues tracing his skin’s marks, from the shoulder’s (where the freckles are concentrated) to his lower back just above where his pants start. Sometimes, he wanders through Keith’s hair, realizing that it isn’t as soft as it looked but continuing anyways.
Eventually Lance hears the shift of breathing and knows Keith has fallen asleep on his lap. He smiles, pleased with himself, but doesn’t stop. He watches as the room turns darker, the light from the three suns on this planet dimming and announcing the closest thing to 'night' back on Earth. He doesn’t grow bored or restless like he usually does after sitting still for too long, having Keith in his lap is calming and he welcomes it after such an overwhelming week.
It’s his phone (pidge's newest invention), buzzing loudly with a text, that takes him out of his trance and he considers briefly to ignore it but eventually he reaches for it.
[Papi]:
Raid tonight.
He groans, the text a bitter reminder that he’s now a paladin and he’s no longer just Lance Sanchez anymore. He’s the blue lion paladin, part of Voltron, part of something so much more- something he sometimes isn’t sure he understand completely.
He replies quickly and decides, just five more minutes and he’ll wake up Keith and then they’ll be back to becoming paladins and not just Lance and Keith, enjoying the moment of peace.
Turning back to the counter, he notices the marker and he smiles. Placing his phone back, he decides to grab the marker, pulling the top off to start playing connecting freckles and moles and battle scars on Keith’s back. He think’s Keith will wake up soon and yell at him, but he never does and he continues until his back and shoulders are a mess of black marker. Satisfied, he places the marker back on the counter and after a single laugh, moves Keith shoulder roughly.
“Wake up princess.”
Keith stirs almost immediately and sits up while rubbing his eyes. “Uh?,” he says, dumbly, turning to look at Lance scowling. “What? Why the fuck are you laughing?”
“It’s nothing,” Lance replies, shrugging and leaving his bed. “Come on, we gotta meet Shiro.”
Keith looks confused for a beat and then nods in understanding, remembering their duties for the night.
“That’s my shirt,” he says instead, confused as he watches Lance grab his shirt instead of his.
“I know,” Lance replies, winking and promptly leaving the room after grabbing his sweater on the way out. Lance really doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s confused and mildly annoyed and he smiles at the thought.
While walking toward the main room, he wonders, how long before Keith realizes I painted all over his back and he can’t help but laugh at that thought. He decides then, that he’s okay, that he can get through tonight’s mission, new determination running through him. After all, Keith will be beside him. He’ll be okay.