Irragin was a planet not unlike Earth, if Earth's water bodies had been purple and the land blue. Lance stared as the castleship broke through the atmosphere and the surface came into view. The locals who had sent the distress signal were waving to them, but Lance had eyes only for the shore they were standing on. Fine baby blue grains of sand lined the shimmering purple water.
"It's the ocean," Lance whispered in awe. He was still staring out the window as they landed and the others filed out of the castle. He felt a pair of mismatched hands squeeze his shoulders briefly before pulling away.
The entire time he was helping the team restore the Irraginians' damaged artillery, Lance's mind was on the beach. Would the water feel warm like it did back on Cuba? Would the wet sand stick to his skin? Would alien seashells sound like alien oceans?
It turned out that the water was indeed warm and the sand delightfully clingy. Lance couldn't hold still and kept alternating between taking dips in the water and running along the beach.
He watched as his team enjoyed the much needed break from saving the universe. Allura was racing Keith, Pidge was chilling under a giant hat one of the locals had lent her, Hunk was teaching Coran how to surf, and Shiro…. Shiro was nowhere to be seen.
Lance started to jog again, wondering where he might've gone, when suddenly pain shot up from his heel. With a sharp intake of breath, he stumbled, cursing whatever sharp shell he'd just stepped on. Just as he lost his balance, a strong pair of arms caught him around the waist. He looked up to see Shiro's very concerned face.
"Lance, are you okay? What happened?"
"I'm fine! Think I stepped on a shell or something." Doing his best to ignore the proximity of Shiro in all his tank top glory, Lance put his foot down and tried to take a step. Piercing pain bloomed up his leg. What the…
Shiro's eyes widened at Lance's grimace. "I should take a look at that." And without further ado, he scooped Lance into his arms and carried him off toward an empty beach chair.
Lance fought the blush that threatened to mark his exposed skin; he had nowhere to hide his embarrassment—or was it pleasure?
Shiro set him down on the chair and knelt by his feet. Lance focused on keeping his breathing even as Shiro's gentle finger pulled something off the sole of his foot. Shiro held it out, and Lance laid eyes on the tiniest crab he'd ever seen, smaller than a fingernail. Equal parts amused and horrified, he made to get up again, but Shiro pushed him back down with a hand to his chest.
"No don't put weight on it so soon." Then he grinned, and Lance felt his insides turn to mush. "Wait here," he ordered. "I'm serious, don't move." And he came back with a bottle of water, a rolled up towel, an ointment of some sort, and that smile again.
Lance lay back and sipped his water, ignoring his guilt about not telling Shiro that the pain had long since subsided.