Work Text:
Keith was ready to be home. He’d had a hard day, providing relief for the war wasn’t easy. He’s glad to be on Earth, with Lance, providing support and care for the people closest to him, but it makes him that much more worried about his husband.
Today, he’d spent the day helping a mother and her daughter set up their tent until they could find a permanent housing placement. A widow and her daughter. He’d held the woman as she cried into his shoulder, mourning her husband, and played with her daughter while she got some much needed rest. Keith loved his job. He loved that, at the end of the day, when he was leaving, the little girl came up to him with a picture of her and her mother so that he didn’t forget them. He couldn’t ask for a better job. But he realized, all too quickly, that it meant he’d forever feel fear course through his body when Lance didn’t answer the phone, or when he woke up and Lance wasn’t in the bed next to him.
“Hey honey, how was work?” Lance’s voice came from the kitchen in their tiny apartment. Keith entered the room and found Lance sitting at the table with paperwork strewn all over. He hummed.
“Bittersweet.” Keith said, setting his bag down.
“One of those days, huh? I’m sorry, Keith.” Lance folded his hands on his papers, showing Keith he had his full attention. Keith shrugged.
“It’s okay. I’m just glad to see you.” He smiled, and Lance returned it. He got up from the table and wrapped his arms around keith.
“Me, too.” Keith buried his face in Lance’s shoulder.
‘He’s okay. He’s here.’ Keith thought.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I’m gonna go watch some TV.” Keith patted Lance’s back and Lance let go.
“Are you sure? You’re more than welcome to be at the table with me,” Lance lowered his voice. “I know seeing me helps, love. I won’t be bothered.” Lance looked into Keith’s eyes and Keith felt his heart swell. Tears brimmed his eyes and he couldn’t tell if they were happy or sad ones. He cleared his throat.
“No, I’ll be okay. Maybe we can watch some TV tonight, though? Make some popcorn, snacks… the works…?” Keith made hesitant eye contact with him, nervous about the answer, even though Lance is the best person in all of existence, and if it meant he got to make Keith feel loved, he’d punch Iverson in the face.
“Yeah.” Lance smiled warmly. “I could pop some cookies in the oven now, and they’d be ready and cooled by the time we’re starting?” Technically, Lance asked. Realistically, Keith knew Lance was allowing him to say yes. Because Keith needed control right now.
“Yeah, that sounds great, babe. Thank you.” Keith gave him a kiss on the cheek, and went to the bedroom to change and watch TV while he waited.
Once he’d put on comfortable clothes and settled in with Kosmo on the bed he turned on a safe show. One he knew wouldn’t trigger anything or cause any problems. Kosmo was down by his feet and the presence was nice to have. It wasn’t until he reached for Lance’s pillow that everything went wrong.
He reached over, looking for something of Lance’s to hold, but found nothing there. He looked over, tears already forming, and didn’t see anything where his pillow should be. He lifted the covers, thinking maybe he missed it. He moved his hand frantically under them, feeling for it, but getting nothing. Tears were falling, now, and his mind was racing.
Had he imagined Lance? Was he not there, not really? Had the “Lance” that had been there, had talked to him, been a fake one? Had he died? How long ago? How did he die? How long had keith been imagining him? Was it his fault? He tried, but he couldn’t remember the funeral. Be couldn’t remember him dying. His own husband and he couldn’t remember how he died, couldn’t remember mourning him.
Keith’s chest rose up and down too quickly, his lungs seemingly unable to hold the air his body so desperately needed. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. His hands moved more to try and find the pillow, if only he could find this idiotic pillow, then he’d know Lance was okay. But there was no pillow. Lance had died? Keith ripped his shirt off his chest, feeling like his body was on fire. His bangs stuck to his forehead and his cheeks were wet from tears.
Lance had not died. He couldn’t have. But his breaths came shallow and his vision was blurry and a little voice at the back of his head told him that yes, Lance died. He pushed the covers off of himself and got up, stumbling, trying to make his way to the kitchen.
He ran into the doorway going out of the bedroom, and he heard Lance’s voice.
“Keith? Are you okay?” Keith let out a sob and tried taking a breath, but all that came was a pained gasp.
“Lance! Lance, please.” He couldn’t get his voice above a whisper, but he kept walking. His feet felt heavy and he bumped into something else before rounding the corner to the kitchen. Lance was at the doorway already, and Keith gripped his shirt.
“Breathe.” Keith choked out.
“I am.” Lance rubbed his back in soothing circles and Keith put his hands flat on Lance’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of it as Lance took deep, steady breaths. “I’m breathing, Keith. I’m okay. Heartbeat?” Keith nodded and put his head against Lance’s chest. Lance kissed the top of his head and made sure to keep taking steady, even breaths.
“Kosmo.” Keith tapped his chest.
“Okay, let’s go to the couch, okay?” Keith nodded and walked with Lance. He laid down on the couch on his back. Lance called Kosmo and tapped Keith’s chest. Kosmo got up and sat on him. Keith had to try harder to focus on his breaths.
“You’re doing so good, Keith. I’m so proud of you. What do you need from me right now?” Lance looked at Keith’s face in search of any telling expression.
“Hand.” Keith reached out and Lance took his hand gently, holding it firmly. Keith’s breaths slowly returned to normal, and he was able to look at his husband a bit better.
“Thank you.” Keith teared up a little, feeling guilty.
“No need, my love. I’m sorry. What happened?” Lance’s expression was soft. He was asking, but gently. Keith knew he could shake his head and Lance would let the question go as quickly as he had asked.
“Your pillow…” Lance’s mouth formed an “o” shape, and he squeezed Keith’s hand.
“I’m so sorry, Keith. I spilt juice on it watching the news this morning. It’s in the wash. I should have told you, I apologize.” Keith shook his head.
“It’s okay. Not your fault.” Keith smiled and looked up at the ceiling. He tapped Kosmo and snapped, and Kosmo got off. He cleared his throat, and looked at Lance. “Can you hold me?” Lance’s face softened even more, and he smiled.
“Of course. Always.” They shifted as Lance sat down, Keith curling up and leaning into Lance’s side, Lance’s body angled toward Keith, arms around him. Every once in a while, Keith would lift his head and listen to Lance’s heartbeat, or position his hand on Lance’s chest to feel the rise and fall of it with his breaths. And Lance would steady his breaths and murder soft reassurances, until keith tucked into himself again.
“You’re safe.” Keith whispered, and Lance smiled, knowing Keith believed it.
“I’m safe.” He repeated, kissing the top of keith’s head, and squeezing him just a little tighter.