Oneshots

-KLANCE-

Over the past few weeks Lance had become more aware of the brutal and seemingly relentless nightmares Keith had been experiencing. He'd wake up with a start, breathing heavily, and shaking. Lance, being the light sleeper he is, always woke up to comfort him.

This night had been particularly rough. Voltron had fought two Galra fleets in one day and everyone was exhausted. Keith'd been happy to lie down and welcome sleep, resting in Lance's open arms. But the Red Paladin couldn't seem to keep his eyes closed, all he could do was lay there.

Keith listened to Lance's soft breaths. Watched his boyfriends chest rise and fall. His scent surrounds the raven, the brunnette smells like autumn and his lemongrass plant. God, Sharpshooter really loved his god damned lemongrass plant. He remembered when Allura thought it would be a good idea to have a fire drill. Everyone ran to their lions, except for his dearest dumbass, he went to his room for his lemongrass plant. He named the plant Liam.

Keith chuckled at the memory, he accidentally woke Lance up.

"Keith?" one eye was open, he shifted a bit.

"Sorry, Lancie, go back to sleep." Keith ran his fingers through the cuban's brunette locks.

"Mmm," he said sleepily. "Why you awake still?" his words muffled by their pillow

"Nothing. C'mon Lancie, you need sleep." the cuban boy sat up defensively. He slid out of his arms as he propped himself up on one elbow.

He scoffed, "I need sleep?" he was wide awake now. "Really, Keith, buddy?" it wasn't a rhetorical question, but he stayed still, he stayed silent, staring up at the ceiling. Several painfully long ticks passed before either boy said anything.

"Yes, Lance, you do." Keith said with a small sigh.

"Yeah, well so do you. You aren't some invincible hero that can go without sleep!" his voice was lined with worry.

"Don't you think I know that?" now his voice was faltering. "I think I should go back to my room. I don't want to wake you up anymore." he stood, Lance grabbed my his, but he didn't look at him. Instead I stared out the window, out at the vast void of space.

"Keith," Lance whispered. "Keith, look at me." the short boy turned his chin to the ceiling.

"At me, Keith."

"Lance! Please," the raven turned to face him, he still has his fingers clasped around Keith's skinny and pale wrist. "Stop, trying. Just stop. I'm not worth losing sleep over, literally."

"Stop. Stop it, mi amour. You are worth everything to me."

That's when Keith crumbled into the Cuban boy's lap, his hands over his eyes to try and cover the ears. Lance just sang softly in spanish, and kissed the top of his head, and slowly Keith's sobs subsided. But they stayed there, on the floor against Lance's bed, with the Mullet's face buried in the crook of the Sharpshooter's neck.

They may not have slept that night, but they did all through the next day. Allura was not pleased to find them tangled in each other's arms in the morning, but she it slide. Pidge was pleased and took many, many photos. Shiro paid Hunk. And Coran was just straight up baffled