a/n: hi! I wrote this for my first entry for my badthingshappenbingo bingo card! You can get your own card by going to their tumblr ( )! Every card is personalize!
Anon requested the "Cradling someone in their arms" block with Lance.
If you'd like to request something, ask me on tumblr! ( )
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Lance was and always will be, a Mama's boy. He could remember nights from long ago when he was sick, how she would let him put his head in her lap and she would comb her fingers through his hair. He'd whine about how much his tummy hurt or how thirsty he was, how he might actually die if she stopped smoothing his hair back and murmuring Spanish lullabies. She was a beautiful, warm woman, his Mama. She always obliged without complaint.
Being sick and feeling like he was dying was a lot different than actually dying, though.
He was numb but also in pain, world dipping in and out of focus and for some reason, he felt uncomfortably wet. The ground was hard and digging into his back, but his head was comfortable, cushioned on something soft and warm. His Mama was there, talking to him and smoothing his hair back, over and over. Just like she always did when he needed it.
"N-no, no, keep your eyes open, remember? Lance?"
Mama..?
No, not his Mama. That voice was too deep, the fingers in his hair too spaced out. The nails were shorter. They get caught up in the knots in his hair, which was silly because Lance distinctly remembered combing it this morning.
Lance tried to say something, but it came out as an unhelpful moan. In response, a large hand pressed softly to the side of his face, tilting it.
"Yeah. No. I don't know. There's just a lot of blood, guys." The voice belonged to Hunk, Lance knew. His face pinched, unsure how to respond to someone who doesn't seem to be talking to him, even though he was pulled into the guy's lap.
"R…rude."
Strong arms wrapped around him more fully, dragging him closer.
Hunk said nothing but careful fingers found their way into his hair again. Lance hummed softly at the touch. Space was scary sometimes, but Hunk had always been a comfort from home.
"A little longer, buddy. Help is on the way."
Lance didn't know how long 'a little longer' was, but he felt himself starting to doze off. A little shuteye couldn't hurt. The fingers leave his hair, arms looping under his back and his knees instead.
Hunk lifted him gently, face twisted in absolute terror and armor stained red. Red really wasn't Hunk's color, Lance decides, and he tried to apologize but he only managed a soft wheeze.
Always one to crave physical comfort, Lance leaned closer to Hunk's broad chest when they started moving. Hunk asked him to please stay awake for another minute, and Lance, not wanting to be rude, nodded against his shoulder.
Lance thought of home and of lullabies. Of lions and of blood. He closed his eyes to try to find the connection.
He fell asleep before he could find it.