Three weeks had passed and Keith did not bring up what had happened. If Lance wanted to talk about it, he figured Lance would talk to him. Keith wanted to know but also was wary about personal emotional space. As a cop, he wanted to know if the home was safe for the minors still living there, and he wanted to get a warrant to get the Social Workers and other government workers to investigate. For some reason, he chickened out every time. He wasn't sure how to go about the whole situation so he just didn't. The longer he waited, the more guilty and torn up about the issue he would get. He hadn't told anyone at work about it. Shiro asked how the move went and Keith told him most of it in vague details. Shiro asked if Lance was adjusting well, and Keith had answered that he wasn't sure. Lance kept to himself mostly. Keith only saw him during mealtimes, or when he came home and Lance was making supper. There were a few days where Keith would come back at odd times and Lance would be up, making food. Or there would be a note that Lance had made food for Keith and it was in the fridge.

Keith would trudge to the food, grateful for Lance's kindness. Typically on nights like this, Keith would skip meals, or pop in a multivitamin and call it enough before collapsing in bed. Lance woke him up every time. Keith wasn't sure if it was intentional, but Lance let him sleep a good eight hours. The other instances Keith would see Lance was when it was pill time. When Keith wasn't home for that, Lance would message Keith with evidence of taking it. They had a weird relationship by three weeks of living together.

Keith had the day off. Some days he wouldn't know what to do with himself and end up just sitting in bed most of the day. Some days he would feel motivated to do things - wash dishes, wash clothes, clean the apartment, go to the gym. Sometimes he spent the whole day reading or watching television shows. This particular day, he was cuddled up with Cosmo, reading a book. Keith was an avid reader, loved anything from science fiction to fantasy. He hated books where romance was the plot, or overshadowed other genres. He especially liked dystopian and alien worlds; would often visualize himself as the main character exploring this foreign area. Keith's current read fell into the science-fiction-alien type of books. Just as he finished another chapter, without a cliffhanger, he had a soft knock on the door. Keith threw a shirt on and called for Lance to enter. The Latino cautiously poked his head in and from where Keith was, his eyes closed.

"Are you decent?"

Keith noded, realized his mistake, then told Lance he was. Lance looked sheepishly at anything except Keith. He was twiddling his thumbs.

"So…" Lance sighed "I have an interview finally but I do not have any fancier clothes to wear. Is there a chance I could borrow some from you?"

Keith smirked.

"You sure you would fit?" Keith asked, crossing his arms over his chest in amusement. Lance was really nervous about borrowing clothes from him and Keith found that funny. Lance was caught off by Keith's response. Whatever he was expecting Keith to say, it wasn't that.

"Oh, um, I think it might be-" Lance paused to look over Keith. Keith started to feel weird, like he was under a microscope. "-a bit loose on me. Because you are, um…" Lance's voice hitched.

"I'm….?" Keith inquired, holding back a smirk.

"Muscular. Fit. Bigger than I am." Lance finished. Keith gestured to his closet.

"All my fancier stuff is in there. Do not grab a cop uniform, but the rest is up for grabs."

Lance gasped at Keith's closet. Keith had spent his first few paychecks from the precinct treating himself to some fancier clothes. He went to the occasional (mandatory) banquets with the precinct and didn't want to arrive in his work uniform. Lance sifted through the closet as Keith kept reading. He grabbed a few shirts, left. Keith was surprised to see him come back into the room with one of his shirts on. It was a button up, collared, long sleeve royal blue one. It was slightly too big for Lance, but the Latino tucked it into the khaki pants he had on. He spun in a circle slowly in Keith's periphery, his eyes on his book. Lance cleared his throat and Keith kept his eyes on the book.

"Well?" Lance asked.

"Well..?" Keith deadpanned, still reading.

"How does it look?" Lance was biting his lip. Keith put the book down. So now he is giving fashion advice… He told Lance that it looked good. It was professional. The only thing wrong was Lance's mop of hair on the top of his head. He was obviously saving it for last. Lance thanked Keith briskly and exited.

"Where is your interview at?" Keith called.

"It's at a coffee shop down the street," Lance called back, from the bathroom Keith figured.

"Any others?"

"Yeah, I have one after this one for a secretary at the local hospital."

Keith thought those were good jobs.

"Oh and Keith?" Lance said. He was standing at the door. His hair was brushed and slicked back. Keith tried his best to ignore his new tent.

"Yeah?"

"I, uh, won't be back until late tonight, so don't wait up or make food for me."

Keith nodded and Lance left.

"GOOD LUCK!" Keith yelled as he heard Lance grabbing his key, his voice cracking noticeably enough for Keith to blush. Keith went back to reading his book and eventually fell asleep. He woke up in time to get himself supper and do his nightly routine, and was asleep when Lance got home that night.

Lance crept into the apartment as quietly as possible. Kosmo was luckily too asleep to bark at him, and Keith was in a similar state. Usually Keith closed his door, but Lance figured he was too tired today. He went over to close it, when he remembered that he hadn't returned the shirts. Lance was too tired to recognize this as possibly a bad idea. He stealthily was able to enter the room without making a sound. He agonizingly slowly opened the closet door, placed delicately the clothes in, and closed the door again. In the silenced that followed, he caught onto something. Whimpers. It wasn't Kosmo because he was in the living room. He turned to look at his roommate to find him shaking, crying, and whimpering. He was under a large amount of blankets. Lance left the room briefly to change. Keith hadn't improved by the time he was back. Lance had to make a decision. Either wake Keith up, and risk Keith wondering why he was getting in this late. Lance could try to calm him down himself. Or he could leave. He was NOT doing the last one.

Keith was on side side, his back currently to Lance. Lance carefully crawled into the bed with Keith, inched closer and closer. He daintily wrapped Keith in an embrace, aware of the pressure building in his shorts, and gently pulled the two boys closer. Keith, in his unconscious and nightmare-ridden state, must have sensed the comfort being offered. He nuzzled into the other boy, wrapping himself in him. Lance tried to focus on sleeping, as it was almost 4 in the morning, but because he hadn't taken his meds (he couldn't, not with the activity he was just doing out of the apartment), his brain would not let him sleep despite being tired. He just observed the sleeping boy in his arms, who seemed to be calming down. His breathing was back to normal, he wasn't shaking as vigorously. Lance rubbed the shirtless cop's back in a soothing gesture and he could tell Keith enjoyed it at some level. Lance eventually fell asleep too.

Despite falling asleep later, Lance was also the first awake. Keith was still sound asleep in his embrace, looking relaxed. Lance stole this moment with Keith, knowing that it would be rare. Keith didn't know Lance very well and Lance didn't know Keith well either. Lance had feelings for Keith; he suspected the cop could never fall for someone like Lance. He was a criminal. He did horrible things to people, stole from them. Granted it was to survive, he still felt bad about it.

Lance went to move out of bed but as he pulled away, the cuddly cop sensed the motion and pulled him back in. Lance didn't mind. Keith nuzzled himself into Lance's chest, getting close enough to become one being. Keith was muttering something in his sleep, something inaudible at first.

"Mmmm." Keith moaned "Laaaaance…."

Chills went down the Latino's back at the sound of Keith moaning his name. He couldn't help the other feelings he was getting. Keith kept mumbling inaudible sleep-talk nonsense but Lance didn't mind. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to know exactly what Keith was dreaming about. Lance decided to rub the cop's back some more, just like he had done earlier. Keith seemed to melt into Lance's touch. It took Lance longer than it should have to notice the slight changes in Keith. It wasn't until Keith reached up and rubbed his eyes that Lance, terrifyingly so, realized Keith was waking up. But Keith was so into the feeling that Lance couldn't stop. Keith's eyes fluttered open below Lance. Realization dawned on the groggy cop and Lance saw it in his eyes. They widened quickly. The cop shoved Lance away, breaking their contact. He clumsily detangled from Lance.

"What the hell man?!" Keith exclaimed. He was breathing heavily and his hand was shaking slightly.

"You were having a nightmare and I comforted you. I wanted to leave but someone who was asleep decided to cling onto me for dear life and I couldn't move," Lance explained, looking pointedly at Keith. Keith huffed, crossed his arms, and turned away from Lance. Not fast enough for the tears to evade Lance's perception. "I'm sorry Keith, if I had known that you weren't cool with it I wouldn't have done it. I just thought you needed some help and someone to bring you down from your nightmare."

"It's not your place to do that," Keith said through gritted teeth, choking back a sob. Shit, he is really upset about this, Lance thought. He got off of the offensive and defensive.

"Did you want me to make you some food? I know you have to get ready for work," Lance lightly asked, getting out of Keith's bed. What was a comfortable paradice during the night now felt like he was laying on a cold clammy cave floor. He approached Keith but kept him at a comfortable distance. Lance tried to meet Keith's eyes and face but the cop just turned away from him, his hand now squeezing his own face.

"Just get out," Keith growled. Lance dejectedly left the bedroom.

Everyone at the office felt that Keith wasn't in a good mood. They knew not to ask about it; it wasn't their business and the workplace was not a place to bare one's soul to coworkers. Shiro, however, did inform Keith he was open for ranting. Keith knew that Shiro would be checking up on him after work and preferred that he talk in the comfort of his apartment rather than the workplace. Sure, Lance was there. Sure, they would be talking about Lance and some deep secrets Keith had that Shiro had found out. Lance also stayed in his room most of the time and if the two cops talked quietly, Lance would not hear a peep. Keith wasn't too worried about Lance overhearing anything

However, as fate would have it, Allura had a mission for Shiro and Keith. They were to go stake out a warehouse where some activity has been suspected regarding drug deals. It was not high stakes, but the area has had a problem with low-level drug dealers. Shiro and Keith would be spending the next few hours alone in a car together. They decked out in their pedestrian clothes, deciding to look like as casual as possible. Keith hid his gun under his jean jacket, Shiro in his leather jacket. They set out as soon as their tech was good.

As soon as they parked, Shiro looked at Keith in a way Keith knew what was to come from the older cop's mouth.

"So… You have been acting differently in the office today. Did something happen between you and Lance?" Shiro gently asked. He assured Keith that if he really didn't want to talk about it, that was ok. Keith trusted Shiro; they were friends, after all. Keith took a shaky, deep breath before beginning to speak. He told Shiro about how Lance has witnessed his night terrors. How Keith was not in the mood for explaining to Lance what was happening. What he did, and said, to Lance. Keith knew Lance was trying to help but Lance barely knew Keith. Keith kinda knew Lance. They had known each other for a few months, spending time together, kind of, in the past three weeks. Keith finished storytelling, and started telling Shiro about what he was feeling. Keith did not want to go too in depth with it, but he told Shiro that he felt something for Lance. Lance was kind. He seemed to care for Keith genuinely. And he was grateful for Keith taking him in. There was something about Lance that, Keith couldn't quite put his finger on it, made Keith like him. He had been closed off to the Latino boy, mostly because these feelings he has been fighting against.

Eventually Shiro asked how Keith felt about his relationship development with Lance. Keith debated telling Shiro about how they first met. Would Shiro judge him? Would he think of Keith differently? Then again, it was Shiro. Keith, shaking slightly, told SHiro the story of how he met Lance originally.

"And you didn't recognize him?" Shiro asked, curious.

"I kind of blocked that night out from my memory," Keith deadpanned. Shiro chuckled.

"Yeah, that makes sense." He looked warmly at Keith and the younger cop knew there was no judgement behind those eyes. Shiro suddenly pointed; Keith followed his gaze and saw that there was movement in the warehouse they were stalking. A skinny white boy dressed in name-brand clothes, followed by two more of similar stature and tone, entered the building nonchalantly. Shiro gestured for the two to tail this group of people. Keith grabbed his taser and his gun.

Lance was feeling like shit after the interaction with Keith. He was curious as to what was causing Keith pain, why he reacted to intimacy (roommate, friendship, or otherwise) the way he did. He wanted to know more, everything about Keith left Lance wanting to know more. Mostly to understand and help. Keith seemed to not want help and that was something that Lance hated.

Lance had always been one to want to help people. It's why he started stealing in the first place. After graduating high school, his parents could not afford to send him to post-secondary; they barely were able to keep food on his siblings and his own plates, and a roof over their heads. So Lance worked two jobs. Even then, they were barely scraping by. He knew that his younger siblings all wanted to go to post secondary, and he wanted them to be able to. Being a racial minority meant a disadvantage already; he didn't want them to start racking up debt as soon as they hit adulthood. He wanted them to have it better than his family did growing up. He knew it wasn't his parents' fault but Lance still blamed them a little. His two jobs on top of what his parents made was enough to support his family and his sibling's educations. So Lance got another, more illegal job. He wasn't proud of it, but Lance was experienced enough for it. His employer set him up and after a few shifts, Lance was making more money per shift than his two other jobs combined. It was there, in the moonlight after his seventh client, that he stole for the first time. His client was asleep in his bed, and Lance couldn't sleep. He wondered the house - mansion, rather - in search of something. He didn't quite know what. The client was alone in the house that night so Lance's only risk to being caught was the client. He found a spare room that sparkled in the moonlight with its many riches. A lavish four hollister bed with silk sheets was in the middle of the trove, a boudoir filled with with what seemed like every precious stone in existence. Lance thought about how much each piece of jewelry would be worth. He thought about how his family needed the money and about the amount of jewelry in the room, in the mansion. Surely, a necklace or a few couldn't hurt? So he pocketed it and left.

As the months went on after, he started figuring out more ways to steal. He felt bad about stealing from clients, people already paying him. He decided to steal from the friends of his rich clients, especially if he knew they were mean and nasty. They could afford it. Lance invested in a dart gun. He practiced. He was naturally dexterous so it didn't take long for him to learn how to shoot and hit his target. He began using his own sleep medication in low doses to knock out his victims.

His parents thought that his two illegal means of making money were a job at a hotel half an hour from where they lived, the night shift. The hotel was a perfect cover because it was fancy enough for the amount of money he was telling his parents he earned to be believable.

Helping his parents to pay for things was easy. He could earn money and it was fixable through material means. Lance had no clue how to help Keith. There was obviously some inner turmoil within the cop. Something that made him not want relationship. Something preventing him from participating in intimate activities. Keith wanted to do it, as Lance recalled. Something just came over him. He didn't know how to help that.

When Keith left for work, Lance felt horrible about what had happened. Again, he wanted to help Keith. Not to necessarily fulfill his own personal desires, or to gain any benefits. He liked helping people. It gave him a sense of duty. That he was worthy of being a human. So knowing that he had failed made Lance feel horrible.

He had gone back to bed, exhausted emotionally, after the whole ordeal, and fell back asleep. He was woken up by a phone call offering him a job interview. Lance put on his Happy Voice and set up a date and time. That was three jobs that he had prospects for. He looked at the outfit hanging in his closet. He figured he had enough money from his last few criminal endeavours to buy an outfit but he had other ways to spend his time. Reminiscing about why he got into crime made him realize just how much money he had and would be making once he got any of the jobs. He sat on his computer and looked into requirements for post-secondary education. It would have to be online, since he couldn't walk to the closest campus easily and asking Keith to drive him would be too much of an ask. After a few hours of research and the occasional snack break, Lance found a program that appealed to him that could be online. At least until he could save up enough money to get a car.

It was getting to be pretty late in the afternoon. Despite the snack breaks, Lance was starting to get hungry for supper and knew Keith could be home any minute from work. He lazily sauntered into their kitchen to see what he could scrounge together to make something edible and pleasing. He figured Keith had gone to a local food market lately - he liked buying local - and upon seeing fresh vegetables lit up. Lance decided homemade soup would be good. Once he cleaned the kitchen.

He barely heard the door open over the music and the bubbling water. Keith's slow, heavy footsteps were inaudible amongst the other noises in the apartment. Keith tried to calm his breathing so he could talk but it took longer than he expected.

"Laaance," he croaked before collapsing onto the floor in front of the television. He groaned loudly and apparently made some indication of his presence.

"Keith, is that you?" Lance called from the kitchen. He had been stirring the soup and dancing along to the music. He lowered the volume of the music to hear Keith's response.

"Yep… Laaance… Help," a strangled and raspy croak came from the living room. Lance barely turned off the stove as he rushed into the next room. There laid Keith on the floor, on his stomach, trying to roll over.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" Lance quickly said. He knelt down and helped Keith roll over, unable to keep the gasp and shock on his face hidden.

Keith was pale. His face was damp and he wasn't looking Lance in the eyes. He was in his cop uniform but the nice light blue was stained red. His pants too. Lance grabbed a pillow from the couch, gently lifted Keith's head, and set the pillow under. Keith tried to talk but he was croaking and Lance couldn't understand him. The wounds bleeding spots didn't look like they were in a place that signified vital organs being damaged. There was one place on his left thigh, one on his lower abdomen and one on his shoulder. Lance cursed. What do you do for wounds? Lance questioned, panicked. He took first aid for his job and he vaguely remembered to apply pressure in the state of mind he was in. Lance did not want to screw up though.

"Drug bust…" Keith huffed. "Went bad… Stabbed.. Shot…."

Lance asked what to do and followed Keith's slow instructions. He grabbed the first aid kit Keith told him about and started bandaging up the wounds. Obvious Keith needed to go to the hospital. Which made Lance suddenly realize...

"Keith, why didn't you go to the hospital?!" He demanded while slowing down the blood flow to Keith's leg wound. Keith was shaking now, and his eyes were closed. Lance saw the tears that weren't there a second ago.

"...Home was closer. I had to run away."

Lance bandaged the wound in his abdomen with painful help from his patient. Keith requested to be moved to the couch at one point which took way too long. Once Keith was settled and relatively stable, Lance started to pace; he wasn't sure what to do.

"I really don't know what to do I mean… I figured you know, you're a cop and that maybe one day you would come back with a bullet wound but I figured that it would be closed up that you would have gone to the hospital and I would have to come get you and then you would have this cool scar, but here you are and you're bleeding with not just one but THREE different wounds and like I have first aid training but I just am blanking on what to do, I've never really had to use it before, I never pictured myself dealing with something like this and I guess the sight of blood shouldn't freak me out as much as it is right now, like I feel like if you were a complete stranger I would be able to think straight but since it is you and I know you, well kinda, and you are hurt and I care about you that I can't get past that and it's just freaking me out that you got shot and are here and wounded and unable to move..." He stopped rambling and took a breath. "Should we call the cops?"

"Lance, I AM the cops" Keith managed to get out through gritted teeth. Lance huffed and stopped abruptly, crossing his arms. He gave an annoyed and defeated look to his roommate, his foot tapping the ground aggressively.

"You know what I mean. An ambulance or something because I don't know how to drive."

Keith closed his eyes and was breathing tightly. Lance snapped at him to keep his eyes open, apologizing immediately afterward. They both jumped, Keith moaning in pain, when the cop's cell phone starting loudly buzzing. Keith weakly handed it to Lance; the screen said "Cop Dad" on it which confused Lance.

"Uh.. Hello?" Lance answered, continuing his pacing.

"Hey… Is Keith there? Who is this?" The deep voice that came through sounded out of breath. It took Lance a minute to recognize Shiro's voice.

"It's Lance, Keith's roommate. I'm with Keith right now."

A sigh of relief was heard through the phone. "Good.. Well, not good but now I know where he is. I'm coming to pick him up and bring him to the hospital."

Lance looked at Keith to see if there was any sign that he heard that. He put his hand over the microphone to tell Keith he would be right back, then moved into his own room. Once he was sure Keith was out of earshot, he continued talking to the person on the phone. Whispering, Lance told him about how his roommate seemed resistant to going to the hospital. Shiro reassured Lance, saying that Keith needed to go despite his own personal decision. Lance didn't say anything and Shiro said that he was on his way anyway. Shiro told Lance to keep Keith alert and awake and he would drive him to the local hospital. Lance agreed and returned to his roommate.

"Hey Keith," Lance said softly. He knelt down next to the couch the wounded boy was lounging on. If someone more aware than Keith was observing the scene they would notice Lance relaxing when Keith's eyes opened groggily; his muscles released some tension from them, his face softened. Keith had tears in his eyes. The rise and fall of his chest was slow and deep. Lance quickly ran and grabbed a few towels because the blood was now seeping beyond what the bandages could handle.

"What's five plus two?" Lance asked.

"Why the hell…?" Keith breathed, confused.

"I'm trying to keep you awake and alert. Answer please" Lance's voice trembled.

"Seven. Lance, please don't make me do math I am in enough pain."

Lance laughed but there was a sadness or worry to it.

"Alright then, I need you to keep talking. Tell me a story?"

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He decided to tell Lance about police training because it was the first thing that came to mind. He told him about how young he was. How he was, not to brag, top of his class. The vigorous physical training going into it. Keith eventually got lost in the storytelling, eventually telling Lance about his first and only relationship. Lance was interested at this, mostly due to his first interaction with the cop. Keith's relationship did not sound abusive or like it ended badly so the cause of his contact anxiousness must be coming from a different source. Keith talked fondly, even in his current state, of that relationship that it made Lance think about what it would be like to have that fondness directed at him. He began getting so lost in thought and daydreaming that he jumped upon the door to their apartment slamming open.

The next few minutes were a blur. Shiro and another guy entered. Shiro carefully scooped Keith up into his arms while the other guy waited to help. Lance was ordered to follow Shiro which he barely heard before the other guy was pulling him gently along. Shiro had brought a cop car. Lance was guided to the passenger seat up front while Keith and the Stranger were in the back. Shiro hopped into the driver's seat. The sirens were loud. The stranger was saying assurances to Keith. Keith was woozily singing along to the music. His eyes were closed but he was singing. Despite being off key and most of the words were wrong it was beautiful; it was the sound reminding Lance that Keith was well enough to sing. When they got to the hospital, there were people in scrubs waiting with a gurney. Keith was placed on it; at the same time, Lance ripped away from the car seat. Keith was rushed in. Lance ran after. But he barely got to the door before he was pulled back by an arm. A very calm voice suggested they go for a short walk outside first, saying Keith was in good hands. But that wasn't enough. Lance had to be sure. Keith was so kind, he didn't deserve this. He was also strong. Lance's mind was spinning with thoughts until the world seemed to spin. The voice suggested more firmly that they should go get some fresh air but it was as if Lance was under water. The bright building that was the hospital was suddenly too bright. It grew and grew.

"Lance!" Shiro exclaiming was the last thing the Latino heard.

A/N: HUGE thanks to Shiranai Atsune for suggesting this. I had fun writing it, trying to figure out how it would go down. Hope you enjoyed it. Don't know how long this will be...
Let me know how you feel about it in the comments :)