"Lance, did you hear me?" Keith snaps, turning his head toward him.
"Yeah, yeah I heard you." Lance mutters, waving a hand dismissively in our direction while Matt helps him off the ground.
Keith scoffs but starts in the direction of the meeting room. Making our way down the hall, I tighten my grip on his arm around my shoulder. I turn and back up into the door of the meeting room, pushing it aside and waltzing in backwards. I flick the light on with my shoulder, bringing life to the room.
A long table was in the middle of the room, at least 12 chairs surrounding it. One on each end with the other chairs encircling it. Black carpet and deep red wallpaper decorated the room with a chandelier in the dab center. It had a gothic look that Keith hated but didn't feel wasting money to change. I start to set him in a chair when he shakes his head.
"My chair." Keith says through gritted teeth, inclining his head to the chair on the opposite of the room.
"Are you serious?" I deadpan. He stares at me, eyes booring into mine.
After a few moments I groan and lift him up again, dragging him around the table, "You're ridiculous."
Keith says nothing at my insult and sinks down into his chair, sighing with relief. I drop the med kit onto the ground, falling to my knees besides it.
"Arms up." I say and I grip the hem of his fitted black T-shirt. Obediently, he lifts his arms into the air, allowing me to slide off his blood stained shirt.
As I pull the fabric away from his open wound, a sucking noise from the bond between the blood and the shirt cuts through the air. Keith winces, squeezing his eyes shut, but urges me to keep going with a single head nod. Hesitating for a moment, I pull the shirt off, sliding it off his arms. He groans but doesn't flinch or cringe despite his muscles tensing and quivering. Tossing it onto the ground, I open the first-aid kit while taking in his wounds.
I would be lying if I were to say I wasn't mesmerized by the toned muscles on his arms and chest. Small scars decorated his porcelain skin leaving white lines of tissue. But my focus was quickly taken by the long slash across his stomach. Despite the blood that poured from the wound, it didnt look too serious. It was long, not deep so it should be a simple fix. He had other wounds but this was the most serious by far.
"What happened?" I ask as I pull out a cloth and start to soak it with peroxide.
"The Galra happened." Keith says scornfully.
"We were out on a business deal with the Balmera's when they came out of-" He continues before hissing as I press the cloth against his wound.
His hands clench and unclench on the armrest while a violent twitch runs through his legs. Shooting me an angry look that I ignore, I urge him along with his story.
"Keep talking." I say bluntly, wiping away excess blood from his pale skin, "It helps with pain."
Keith grunts before resuming his story.
"They came out of nowhere; At least 10, maybe 15, of them. We were outnumbered and the Balmera's don't believe in fighting so we didn't even have backup." He groans, "It was weird though. They brought knives and bats, but no guns. It's like they wanted to ambush us, but not kill us."
I hum in response, my brain whirring for answers while I pull out a roll of gauze. Baiting Voltron into a trap?
"Lean forward." I say, pulling the hem of the roll.
Doing as I say, Keith leans forward a bit, a low noise rumbling from his throat. I start to gingerly wrap the gauze around his abdomen, making sure it overlaps his wound.
18 - Guns & Roses
Start from the beginning
