A/N: What? Whoa? Holy crap? Forget whumpweek apparently I am just posting these as I see fit? Have another prompt that makes a short appearance in the actual story! Yay! I'm telling you, I wanted these to be like super short drabble pieces but it never turns out that way in the end. Oh darn.

Not much to say other than sorry for the wait! Today's Prompt: Hypothermia

hyggelig - (adj). taking pleasure from the presence of gentle, comforting and soothing things; a feeling of friendship, warmth, peace and contentment.

xxx

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Prompt 2: HYPOTHERMIA

When Blue goes down, Lance thinks he's going to die.

Blindsided. Thrown violently against the console so hard he blacks out.

When he comes to, tangled in his own limbs on the floor, he's freezing. Blue is offline and not responding to his touch or his pleas. He can hardly see; even the warm light of his paladin armor doesn't glow, leaving him in total darkness. Something must be busted. Oh goody.

Lance tries to take stock. Cold. Dizzy. Disoriented with a splitting headache. He sees his helmet on the ground, cracked, so a bump to the head makes sense. Cold. There's a sharp twinge on his leg, on the outer right thigh. His chest plate is damaged too, probably from connecting to the console after being flung forward. He's shivering because, again, he's cold.

Which is weird because his flight suit should regulate his temperature— Oh, crud.

Lance runs his hand down his thigh to feel the damage and finds the crack in the armor right away. Beneath it, the flight suit is torn as well. "Crap," he says, folding his arms over himself with a pout when he sees his breath.

"—ance! Answer me!"

The small voice of Keith comes from his cracked helmet. Relieved the damn thing still works, Lance slides it on. "I'm here," he announces, watching his breath coil into the air once more.

"Lance! For crying out— I thought you were dead!"

"You'd love that," Lance jokes, in need of a sense of normalcy because its dark and its cold and its quiet and—

"Are you hurt?"

"I've felt better. Nothing too bad, really. Still alive and kicking, not to mention g-good lookin'." Cold, though.

"Lucky me," Keith drawls and Lance can practically hear him rolling his eyes. "Can you please try to be serious for once? Tell me what you remember."

Lance hugs himself tight and thinks, trying to pull out the key points of what happened.

"Uh, let's see. Blue went down after we got split up," He recalls. He can still picture the brief glimpse of the planet he crashed into before, well, crashing into it. White with dusty looking clouds and void of life. Beautiful, distractingly so. He saw the vast waterscape and the towering blocks of ice. "Keith, my lion is completely down, poor girl. Not even backup power. And it's dark, I can't see anything outside. I have no idea where I landed. What about you? You hit?"

A few ticks go by, enough that for a moment Lance thinks that communications have failed. But then, "No."

Of course Keith wasn't hit. But, you know. Yay.

When Keith speaks again, it sounds calculated. "Listen to me. Blue had a pretty rough landing. Looks like she might have gone offline before she even hit the water." Water. So he and Blue were at the bottom of an ocean or lake. Or whatever. "I don't know how deep the water goes, Lance, but Red won't go in."

"Gee, thanks, Red."

"Lance."

"Sorry. I guess that explains the black nothingness outside." Lance fiddles with Blue's controls in hopes that his frayed nerves will inspire her to come back to life. She doesn't. "So you can't come get me?"

"You're breaking up," Keith informs, sounding frustrated. Lance is frustrated too. Because he knows how unforgiving and dangerous unfamiliar waters can be. Lance knows that the ocean is an amazing, sometimes literally breath-taking force. Even a powerful swimmer such as himself knows better than to take her lightly.

That aside, he has no way of knowing how deep the water runs, like what if it's really, really deep? He can hold his breath for a long time but would it be long enough?

"Lance," Keith calls again when he gets no response. "I can't get in touch with the others and I can't come get you. With Blue down… you're going to have to swim back to the surface."

Ha ha. Ha. Swim. Through the dark, unfamiliar waters of an ice planet. Ha ha. No way.

"Yeaaaah I'm afraid that plan is no bueno for me," he says, feeling his chest go tight at the thought of having to hit the water. Strong swimmer or no, that was stupid dangerous when his suit and armor are damaged and the coldness is already sinking into his skin. Kissing his bones like the ghost of a promise. He'll freeze. He'll die.

And if he stays? Same.

"Your suit should take care of you on the way up. We'll come back for Blue."

Lance reaches out to touch Blue's console, wincing at how icy it feels against his fingertips, to where it almost stings. Then he feels his breath hitch. He's shivering still. Don't panic, he tells himself because no one else is there to do so. He tries to keep the waver out of his voice when he responds. "Uhh, my helmet is damaged. I don't know if it'll hold air under water right now.

And also my suit is torn. It's like negative a million degrees in here.

Thing is, Keith is still right. Leaving his lion is currently his best option. Blue doesn't appear to be waking up any time soon and is getting colder by the tick. He'll be a popsicle if he stays put too long. The water's icy touch is wrapping around Blue's mechanical body, turning her into an ice coffin, and even if Lance chooses to stay, even if he chooses to go down with his gorgeous ship, he'd be putting unnecessary stress and responsibility onto his team.

The sigh on the other end of the radio is heavy. Lance imagines Keith is blowing his bangs out of his face and scowling at the new information.

"You don't do anything half-assed, do you?"

"Nope. Full ass, all the way." Lance actually laughs at his own joke because, well, laughter is comforting somehow, even if it's his own. Even if it just bounces of the metal walls. Anything to battle the deep quiet surrounding him.

"If your helmet really is busted we won't be able to communicate when you're in the water."

So this is really happening. Okay. Lance reminds himself that he grew up in the water. Swimming, surfing, snorkeling on a beautiful beach he once called home. He has a swimmer's build, a result of playing with the waves and currents every day. He has strong legs, powerful strokes and can hold his breath for a long time.

But frigid water is different. An entirely new set of risks. And… honestly? It's been a while.

Just hold your breath. Swim fast.

Simple.

"I'm ready," he lies.

But he finds himself near the hatch, palm hovering over the button to release it. Doing so will allow the water to rush in and start the clock on his swim to the surface.

He hesitates. Thinks of all the things he can't afford to lose by not being fast enough. Takes time to realize that these could be his final moments if he fucks up.

"Keith," he whispers, unsure what exactly he wants to say. His fingers smooth over the hatch release. Should he give his last words? Never thought it'd be with Keith, but somehow, it doesn't disappoint him. "I…"

"You'll be fine. I've seen you in the water. I'll be waiting for you when you reach the surface."

Keith, a damn beacon of confidence and necessity. A lifeline leaving no room for self-doubt. Keith won't let him die. Shiro and the others would never forgive him.

Lance opts to shed his armor so as not to get weighed down by the extra bulk. He puts the helmet over his head though, with some half-baked hope that it'll still function as a rebreather. He doubts it, though. No half-assing, after all.

"Okay. I'm on my way."

He takes a few deep breathes to prep himself into holding it. Eyes closed, he imagines the beach, the gentle touch of spoondrift when the waves are big enough and the grainy texture of wet sand under the pads of his feet. He pretends to be there as he slams a fist down on the button.

He knows what to expect but he still isn't ready. The water comes in fast and the cold hits him instantly, shocking his system and he can't help gasping, completely destroying the hope of a holding a deep lungful of oxygen. Before the water can devour every bit of open space, Lance finds a tiny pocket of air and sucks in a quick, sloppy breath and seals his lips tight. The urge to hyperventilate is so, so real, but Lance knows swallowing the water, especially this early, will kill him.

Guess the helmet is no good, then.

He ditches it, trying not to focus on the fact that he's alone now with nothing but his thoughts. No voice in his ear and a very tangible risk of not hearing anyone's voice ever again. Not even Blue.

He pushes himself upwards with as much leg power as he can muster. Mama didn't raise no quitter.

The cold is biting, and Lance knows he's normally faster than this but can't get his body to push. He can feel himself shivering in the water, from the cold and from stress, the mental picture of the beach now a vision of the arctic.

His chest begins to burn already, and while he's certain he is kicking with his feet, he struggles to feel them swishing in the water. It gets harder and harder for his arms to make strokes and he feels trapped by the sheer darkness of the sea around him. It threatens to close in on him and crush him completely.

It's cold, it's cold, it's so quiznacking cold and Lance can feel his body shutting down. His limbs lock up and its still so dark—is he even close!?

I'm dying, he thinks. I'm going to die in my own element.

Hope dwindles when he realizes he can't hold his breath for much longer. He's been swimming for what feels like forever with anchors for limbs and its just so dark he knows he won't make it. But he tries, for himself, for the team, to prove to Keith that he can because for some reason Keith believes in him, but there's a sharp pain in his chest and his body hurts.

Then it happens. Bubbles escape past his lips and he sucks in a mouthful of water in their wake. His arms refuse to propel him any further and, his momentum stalled, he begins to sink. He begins to thrash.

He doesn't know how close he made it to the surface, but before he blacks out, he sees a light. Two lights, his mind supplies. Two lights maneuvering through the depths towards him, and Lance thinks, as he fades, my beautiful girl.

xxx

When he wakes up he's still freezing.

The blackness is gone. Instead he sees Red, the color of fire and heat. The color of Keith.

"Ke… K-K-K-Kei—"

"Stop talking, idiot."

Lance wraps his arms around himself as tight as he can but the finger strength isn't there. Keith has a blanket swathed around him snugly and Lance can tell that he isn't wearing anything under his—

"Wh-wh-what the… Why a-am I—"

"I said stop talking."

"You undressed me."

"Do you not understand how hypothermia works?"

Sorta, he wants to say. Sorta but apparently not well enough?

While he should have a lot to say to this, being slightly warmer than freezing is a lot more prominent than losing a layer of clothing. Lance doesn't grumble about it because he's just grateful that, while Lance is no quitter, Keith is the survivor. He can feel Keith's hands poking around at the cut above his hip, then the cut streaking across his temple. He doesn't look overly concerned over said injuries, but he doesn't look thrilled, either.

"W-was I clo-close?"

The heaviness of Keith's sigh startles him. He seems tired. Stressed and composed all at once. He says, "To the surface? Hard to say. But having a near-death experience must have prompted Blue to wake up. She broke through the surface and opened up for me, with you inside."

The swell of pride that Lance feels for his lion isn't enough to warm him up, but it's close.

"G-good old Bl-Blue."

"Yeah, apparently all it took was you drowning."

"Almost drowning." He can hear himself slurring. He tries to pull the blanket tighter around himself but he lacks the strength. "Chest h-hurts."

"…I had to do CPR. Lance," Keith says dark. "Why didn't you tell me your suit was torn? We could have… You might have… Why can't you just stay safe for once?"

There is something in Keith's voice that Lance wants to understand but he is too cold to process it. He just wants to be crushed by one of Hunk's powerfully warm hugs or indulge in one of his Mamá's spicy home-cooked meals.

But for now he has Keith, who is now rubbing his hands up and down Lance's arms rapidly. "Transferring warmth," he explains when Lance makes a confused expression. And Lance lets it happen, knowing Keith is better off taking care of Lance's survival than Lance himself. He doesn't complain. They don't have to talk about this, not now, not later. Not ever.

It's… kind of what they do with bonding moments, now.