A/N: Warning: this chapter gets pretty dark. See the end-of-chapter notes for specific content warnings.

Also, thanks to the reviewers who let me know this chapter had glitched out. It should be fixed now.

It had been a while since he'd slept around other people. In the castle, everyone had their own quarters. At the Garrison, no one did. And…before that, Keith had sometimes been forced to share his private spaces, if they could even be called that. When you lived in a stranger's house, nowhere really felt private.

That was probably what had brought it on—the bad memories, the association of hearing other people's sleeping breaths. That and the training robot that had chased him through half the ship a few days before. But Lance had insisted on a sleepover to help get over his last few jitters about the ship, and Pidge and Hunk had agreed, calling it a party to celebrate finishing their repairs to the castle-ship. They were his teammates, and he was supposed to be getting to know them better. So he hadn't said no.

In hindsight, perhaps that hadn't been the best call.

Coran and Allura had bowed out before lights-out, but the rest of them had settled in, each with their own pile of pillows and blankets. Shiro had told Pidge off for using their forearm screen under the covers, waited for everyone else to seem asleep, and then wandered off somewhere on his own. Keith had been tempted to join him, but he'd drifted off before he could make up his mind on the matter.

Now, he was in the dark and not alone. Something was coming for him.

He heard it breathing first—heaving, ragged, uneven breaths. Its footsteps were almost silent as it got closer, and then it was stepping on him. A knee, and then his stomach, and then his chest, settling one hand on his throat. He couldn't quite feel the specific sensations, but he knew it was there because he couldn't breathe.

He opened his eyes and stared it in the face. He couldn't look away. He had no words to describe what he was seeing, and a part of him just…went away for a little while. He was so frightened and so, so angry, but he couldn't do a thing.

He searched for something, anything, that could save him, and three words rang in his head. Patience yields focus.

He struggled with his eyes until they drifted to halfway open and partly out of focus, trying to ignore the slavering thing inches from his face. Then, still staring down the beast (it looked a bit like one of the Galra now, but that was better, that was manageable), he began slowly reaching out to his fingers, toes—anything he might be able to get to respond. There was nothing; he felt like he was encased in lead.

Patience. Maybe something closer to home? If home was his brain, then…

Eyes, no. Nose and ears, how even? His mouth wouldn't move, but maybe…

He tried his tongue, and it shifted faintly. Something about the sensation reoriented him, and he kept focusing on moving it, until suddenly…

His arms and legs hadn't been where he thought they were, and now he'd found them again.

He lunged upright, one hand splayed against his chest and the other fighting to support him as he swayed. The thing was gone, had in fact probably never been there. The others were all nearby, sleeping. They weren't supposed to be here. What had happened to his room?

Shiro. Shiro wasn't here. The rest of the team was here, but Shiro wasn't. Keith struggled through another breath and tried to think. He wasn't sure whether he himself was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, or if the ship had started playing tricks again, or if his had been scrambled like Shiro's had been—but wait, no, Shiro had said that was Sendak playing tricks…

"Hey."

It took him a second to recognize that someone was talking to him, and longer still to turn his head.

"Your pupils are huge," Hunk said sleepily. "You all right?"

…He'd thought all of him was back in one piece, but words weren't quite there yet. He swallowed, clenching his fists.

Answer when spoken to. It was one of the rules that he'd had eventually gotten through his brain for being a gracious guest. Follow the unspoken rules, and things went smoothly. Don't, and…

"Hey, it's okay. Did you have a nightmare?" Hunk pulled himself within comfortable whispering range, starting to sound more alert. "We fixed the ship. Nothing's malfunctioning anymore. Everyone's safe."

Keith nodded. "I…couldn't move," he managed, struggling through deep breaths.

"Ooh. Sleep paralysis?" Hunk whistled silently. "That's harsh. It's all right, it isn't real. Has it happened to you before?"

Keith wasn't sure, but he didn't remember anything exactly like this. He shook his head.

"Man, that's the worst. Lance told me about that—you gotta keep your eyes closed, if you can. And move your tongue, or something. It just means your sleep's a bit out of whack, but your brain can go nuts making stuff up to figure out what's going on."

Keith wasn't particularly interested in explanations, and he was a little annoyed that of all people, he'd managed to preemptively take Lance's advice. But he did notice that as Hunk spoke, he edged closer, until he was in range to throw an arm over Keith's shoulder.

It should have felt like he was being crowded, like all the other displays of closeness he'd been subjected to over the years. But it didn't. Hunk's arm and side were solid, undeniably present, and his breathing was slow and even. If something were going wrong, Keith reasoned, Hunk would know, and he wouldn't be this calm. He would be moving, doing something important, or at least on-edge and jumpy. He wasn't. That meant that Hunk was right. Everything was okay. He was safe.

It was hard to relax when he was surrounded by other people, with obligations he knew he shouldn't break forcing him to stay. But it helped, knowing that those people were his team. If danger presented itself, they'd have each other's backs. And if one of them had a nightmare…

…They'd be comforted. Huh. It was easy enough to envision when it was one of the others, but Keith hadn't quite realized that same logic could apply to himself.

He leaned his head against Hunk's shoulder, and Hunk shifted to rest his chin atop it, mumbling something about his hair.

"Thanks," he murmured, still a bit stunned, lost in thought.

Hunk's voice was soft, when he answered, but unmistakably warm. "Anytime, man. Anytime."

A/N: Warnings for: sleep paralysis, (fairly mild?) horror, suffocation. Also hints at Keith having had a bad time in foster care. I think that covers everything?

...Anyway. My own experiences with sleep paralysis have all been relatively mild, but I've heard that for some people it can be downright horrifying. I've heard on the Internets that tongue-wiggling can indeed help you wake up a bit quicker, and that it's best to keep your eyes shut if you think of it—giving your brain less leeway make things up helps.

I have some experience with waking up disoriented, too. I'm pretty sure that as coping measures for that go, having someone you trust to cuddle with is up there.

Thanks for reading!