"So you've decided to grow a beard." Shiro teases, before having another spoonful of the green goo.
Keith clumsily pulls a chair with his left hand and sits down, carefully picking up a spoon. "Well, it's not like I have a choice for now." He shrugs and starts eating.
It was two days ago, in a simple training exercise. Instead of the actual robots in the training deck, Allura had them using another room with high ceilings and platforms. Incredibly high platforms that moved around. Keith and Lance were sparring on one of the biggest. The red paladin had the advantage, but with a swift movement from the platform, Keith lost balance and fell the six meters straight to the ground.
The pain was immediate and sharp, his right wrist having taken all the impact first. Shiro quickly left the platform he was training in with Hunk and climbed down as quickly as he could, rushing to Keith's side. Lance had climbed down too, panicked at seeing his team mate falling like that, and Hunk soon did the same as soon as he realized something wasn't right.
Keith was curled up on the floor, cradling his right arm against his chest, his breath fast and shallow, eyes tightly shut as he tried not to cry out in pain. Shiro kneeled next to him, placing a hand on his knee.
"Your arm. Let me see." He demanded. Very hesitantly, Keith let Shiro hold his wrist and observe it, wincing as the slightest touch made him see black spots.
Shiro frowned. The limb was bent at an unnatural angle, and there was a big bump near the wrist joint. "Come on. Let's get you to a cryopod."
"Uh, I don't think so, Shiro, "Hunk said, "after that last time when the castle went bonkers, Pidge and I had to fix the food goo dispenser, and we haven't had time to fix the medical pods yet." His face was heavy with guilt. He couldn't help but feel bad for not fixing the cryopods when Keith really needed one. "Th infirmary is fully functional, though."
With Coran's help, they were able to scan Keith's arm in a similar fashion to an x-ray, and concluded that he had a nasty break on his arm, and his wrist was fractured as well. Shiro had to set the bone, and after that, Keith's right arm was put on a splinter and heavily bandaged, bound in a sling strapped tightly to his chest.
Keith mostly spent the rest of the day in bed, still too nauseous and sore to do anything. His arm was hurting a lot in the evening so he decided to go for an early night and tried to get some sleep.
Unfortunately, Keith was right handed, and soon learnt that his other hand was useless for anything that required a minimum of dexterity. So yesterday morning, when he got up to brush his teeth before breakfast, which he more or less managed with his left hand, he realized shaving was out of question. Not only he needed a steady hand to do it, but his right hand also hurt too badly to even move, so his initial idea of quickly shaving with his dominant hand and ignoring the pain was also not an option.
And while Keith can't exactly grow a full beard yet, he has enough scruff to notice if he doesn't shave every other day. So, at least for the time being, he will let his stubble grow until he's able to use his right arm again.
"How's the arm, by the way?" Shiro asks, clearly concerned.
Keith looks down at the white sling his arm is in and shrugs. "It's okay. A bit sore." He says, not wanting to worry anyone. If he was to be honest, he'd say it hurt like hell. But in the last two days, Keith had had enough of people worrying about him, and he just wants people to forget he's injured.
"You know, I could help you shave if you'd like." Lance declares from the other side of the table.
"Uh, after seeing you piloting skills, I don't think I should let you any near my face with a razor," Keith replies, "I'm injured enough as it is."
Lance looks outraged. "What does piloting even have to do with shaving?"
"Actually," Pidge chimes in, "Lance is pretty decent when it comes to beauty and skin care."
"True," Hunk adds, "I've seen him, shave, and he has an incredibly steady hand. Never saw him with razor cuts or anything either."
"I shave like a pro," Lance smirks, "it would only be your pleasure to have me shaving your face."
"I think I'll pass," Keith refuses, "it's only for a few days anyway, I'll probably be able to do it tomorrow or so when I can get this stupid sling off."
Shiro looks up from his plate, frowning. "Keith, you do know you need to wear the sling for at least a couple of weeks. Or until when the cryopods are fixed." He says with a stern tone. "That arm is not about to be up and moving at all for a while. So, I'd accept Lance's offer if I were you."
"Weeks?!" Keith exclaims, clearly not pleased. He was planning to get rid of the sling later today, or tomorrow if his arm still hurt a lot, but he definitely doesn't want to wear it for any longer than that. The stupid thing is so uncomfortable and annoying, making his neck hurt and itch, and just makes him feel so useless and restrained. "Isn't that a little extreme?"
Shiro shakes his head. "It was an awful break. We don't want to take any chances of your arm taking longer to heal, or even heal wrong."
Keith groans, obviously upset. "But it feels a lot better now!" He complains. "I mean, it's my arm, I'm able to tell if it hurts or if something isn't right! I don't even need the stupid sling!"
"That arm needs to be elevated and immobilized for a while to heal properly! We're a team, and we can't take any chances like this, especially with your dominant arm!" Shiro's voice gets a bit louder, and Hunk, Pidge and Lance exchange scared glances. They really hope the two of them don't start fighting. "The sling is staying, and that's final." Shiro gets up and leaves for the training room, leaving Keith to sulk in anger.
"My offer still stands, Mullet." Lance suggests, with a cocky grin. Hunk and Pidge leave, following Shiro.
Keith sighs. "Let's get this over with then."
Keith is sitting on a chair in front of the sink, in Lance's bathroom, staring in confusion at his team mate's arsenal of skincare products.
"Do you actually use all of this?" Keith asks, his good hand motioning for the products in front of him.
"Of course!" Lance replies, waving a hand in front of his face, "How do you think I maintain this beautiful skin?"
Keith rolls his eyes. "So, what now?"
Lance grabs a towel and wraps it around Keith's shoulders, and places the razor on the sink closer to him, before covering the skin on Keith's lower jaw and upper lip with a coat of some sort of shaving cream. Taking Keith's chin in one hand and the razor on the other, he gently runs it through the skin.
Keith squints at the mirror, slightly impressed. "Huh, you actually seem to know what you're doing," he says, trying not to move his face too much.
"I told you so." Lance continues, almost finished on the left side. "You know, it kinda hurts that you doubt my skills so much." Lance doesn't say it in a serious tone, but Keith can understand that the way he underestimated him actually stung a little.
As Lance moves to the right side, his hip accidentally bumps Keith's elbow, sending sharp shooting pain down his arm. Keith tries his best not to cry out.
"Shit, I'm so sorry!" Lance quickly puts down the razor and kneels beside his friend. "Are you okay?"
Keith closes his eyes tightly, as his left arm hold the other under the sling. The sudden pain dies down gradually, but now his whole arm is throbbing. "It's okay, I'm fine," he lies. Lance doesn't really believe it, but picks up the razor again, and starts working on the right side of Keith's face.
"You know, Shiro is kinda right about the sling."
Keith groans, irritated. "No, he's not. I'm an adult, I can take care of my own body."
"You're seventeen, technically not an adult yet," lance replies, "and Shiro showed me the scan. That break you have…it's pretty nasty."
"I'm fine!" Keith snaps in frustration. "It's just a broken arm! It doesn't even hurt that much anymore!"
"Yeah, bullshit," Lance rolls his eyes, "I can see you wince every time you move." Keith opens his mouth to protest, but Lance walks in front of him and holds his face upwards, ready to shave Keith's upper lip. "Alright, no talking now, I have to concentrate and this part is harder."
Lance is done in just a couple of minutes. He wipes the remains of shaving cream off of Keith's face, gently dabbing it with a damp towel, and puts down the razor.
Keith starts taking the towel off his shoulders, and is about to get up when Lance stops him. "Hey, where do you think you're going?" He asks, looking slightly offended. "I'm not done yet!"
Keith doesn't move. "What do you mean you're not done yet? You're not shaving my head too!" He protectively reaches for the longer strands in the back with his left hand.
Lance seems to consider it. "Well, a haircut wouldn't do you any harm-"
"You touch my hair, I'll smash your face in. "
Lance chuckles, "Relax, princess, I'm only going to use some after shave," he reaches for the bottle, "your skin is already dry enough, you'll get razor burn if I just leave it like that."
Keith gets up. "No, thank you." He one handedly throws the towel to the chair he had been sitting on, and walks towards the door. "I'll leave the fancy beauty routine for you."
With a quick sprint, Lance is able to stand between Keith and the door, his hand leaning against the doorframe. One of his eyebrows is raised in defiance. "My salon, my rules."
"My face, my rules," Keith says, "now get out of my way."
"Dude," Lance laughs, "you have a broken arm."
Keith shrugs. "So?"
"So, I think your choices are rather limited." Lance nods forward. "Come on, back to the chair."
"If you think for a moment that I can't take you down with a broken arm, think again, Lance."
Lance puts his hands up in defeat. "Alright, alright, no after shave. Gee, no wonder why you have zero ladies after you…"
"Yeah right," Keith scoffs, "see you later."
