Keith heard the buzzer go off and winced. A stretch of his bandage was unwrapped around his thigh. This was not the best time for visitors. He waited a beat, wondering if whoever it was would just go away. Buzz buzz. Guess not. Sighing, he got up to open the door, limping slightly.

A moment after pulling it open—a moment too late—it occurred to him what a mess he was: hair disheveled and clothes rumpled from sleeping in them last night. And the undone bandage on his thigh was no match for his wrist cast and the bandaid on his jaw. He normally wouldn't care, but now he did; because the driver who'd almost run him over was standing in his doorway.

Keith had been speeding on his bike, late as usual, and had turned a corner without slowing down. It was a move he pulled more often than he should, and he always got away with it. But that day, a car had been speeding ahead too, and Keith had known they were going to crash a split second before they did.

They'd gone to the hospital to get patched up. They were banged up but luckily nothing was too bad, except for a fracture in Keith's wrist. They'd exchanged insurance and contact information after they were discharged, but other than noting that the stranger was cute, Keith hadn't expected the acquaintance to continue.

The stranger—no, Lance—didn't look all that much better than Keith did standing outside his house, face and forearms sporting small bandages of their own. But even roughed up, he looked good; and Keith was a goner. Trust him to fall for the guy who'd broken his wrist and totaled his bike.

"Hi," Lance scratched nervously at the back of his neck. "How're you doing?"

"About as good as I look," Keith admitted.

"I'm sorry again. I really didn't see you coming." As Lance apologized for what could've been the hundredth time, Keith noticed for the first time that he was carrying a bouquet in one hand. Lance followed Keith's eyes and seemed to remember, bringing up the flowers to present them. "Yeah these are for you. Get well soon flowers."

Keith opened his mouth to say something…anything?…but no words came out. Accepting the bright daisies with a blush to match, he stepped back, allowing Lance inside. He disappeared into the kitchen to put the bouquet into a glass of water, and used the time to try and will his mind to calm down. This was just a social call. Lance was just being a decent person, trying to make up for a mistake. Taking a steadying breath, he returned to the living room to find Lance had made himself at home on the couch. The sight made him inexplicably happy, and he mentally chided his heart to cool it because his erratic heartbeat could probably be heard across the room.

"Did I interrupt you?" Lance's voice cut through the internal conversation he'd been having with himself.

"What?"

Lance pointed to the first aid box with the strip of fresh gauze laid out on the table, and looked pointedly at the half-unfurled bandage still dangling by Keith's knee. "Were you changing your dressing when I interrupted."

"Oh." Right. He had been doing that. "Yeah."

"Oh, sorry. I probably should've called first." Lance looked up at Keith sheepishly. "Pidge just mentioned you were home so I figured I'd drop by and check in on you. Don't stop on my account!"

"It's cool. I appreciate it." He may have been thrilled to have Lance in his house, but he was proud of himself for playing it cool. He sat at the other end of the couch from Lance, and started unwrapping the gauze above his knee the rest of the way. Meanwhile Lance started up some admirable small talk.

"It's so weird that we're both friends with Pidge but never knew each other until…"

"Until you almost killed me?" he teased.

"I didn't almost kill you," Lance protested indignantly, until he looked at Keith and realized he was joking. He grinned. "But yeah."

The bandage was off now, and he could see that the gash was healing; though it still looked pretty angry. He adjusted the fresh bandage onto it, and started coiling it, but it was slipping. He opened it, tightened, and started over, but it came loose again.

"Here let me…" Lance gingerly slid closer to him on the couch. They turned toward each other, and Lance took the gauze from his hands. Keith's breath was shallow as he became aware of Lance's proximity. Lance drew Keith's leg gently toward himself, resting it against his own knee. His fingers felt cool against Keith's skin as he draped the bandage against the wound once. "Put your finger here," he directed, to hold the gauze in place, then started to wrap the bandage around and around. Keith leaned back on his hands, following the movement, his eyes trained on Lance's chipping blue nail polish. "Thanks," he said softly.

Lance looked up and returned the soft look, unaware of the faint blush dusting Keith's cheeks, camouflaged conveniently by the cuts and bruises already there. Dressing secured, he let go of Keith's leg, and Keith set his foot down on the floor, putting his weight on it to test. He grimaced slightly, but at least the pain was duller than yesterday.

"Hey," said Lance.

Keith turned back to see him holding up a king size blue sharpie.

"I always wanted to sign someone's cast but never had the chance."

The irony had a laugh bubbling out of Keith. "You're the reason I'm wearing a cast in the first place, idiot." But he extended his arm nonetheless.

Lance took hold of it eagerly. "Ugh, details," he trilled, writing his name in huge lettering, taking up most of the empty space on the cast between the smaller signatures of Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge. And then because there was a little space left, he added a devious-looking cat face.

"What is that?" Keith pulled his arm back to examine it more closely.

"A smiley face?"

"Why is it so…nya?"

"Shut up, it's cute."

Well he couldn't argue with that. He smiled, shaking his head. This was banter he could get used to.