Pebble's gifts

Stitching my lips up again and again (Kolivance)

(Some kolivance angst for Blob's birthday!!!)

It has been a Varga since Lance knew the Blades had returned from their mission.
Or at least, it has been a Varga since Keith called the castle to send over the information that they had retrieved.
So, they might have been back for longer; Keith never usually rang immediately. He had to get changed, sort out his injuries, find out of what they had discovered was actually useful before he sent it over. God knows how long he, and the rest of the team, had actually been back.

Waiting is driving him mad as he shifts to lean back on the bed. It's quiet in his bedroom, too quiet, but he'd already annoyed Hunk.
And Pidge.
And Allura.
And at this point, was scared to even talk to Shiro.
So he is alone, for all intents and purposes, waiting on information he's not sure will ever come.
He sighs, flopping back on the pillows.

Sure, he knew dating a Blade was going to be hard, but not this hard.

For what feels like the millionth time, Lance reaches for the communicator on the bedside table, pulling back once he feels the smooth alien screen under his fingers. The light from the screen hurts his eyes at first, but he adjusts quickly, and-

No missed calls.
No missed messages.
Nothing at all.

He groaned, dropping the communicator on the bed.
It didn't even bounce properly.

A part of him, the quieter, rational part, thinks that his partner has every right to forget to tell him stuff. It's to be expected; he knows from experience that it's easy to forget stuff in the heat of battle, lost in the torrent of orders and gunshots and explosions. He's done it too many times to count, so really, he can't blame him.

The other half perks up, the arrogant half that's currently keeping him holed up in his room thanks to a mixture of spite and pettiness, and instantly decides to argue. If Lance meant to him what he swore time and time again Lance meant to him, then he would call, message, tell Keith to pass on a note, anything.
Anything except keep him in radio silence for hours after one of the most dangerous missions the Blade had performed in a while.
You're not supposed to forget about your boyfriend, Lance's Brain whines, and he hums in some distracted agreement.
He would kill for a cuddle right now.

He checks the communicator again, and it's the same as always.
There's no change. Just the flat, glowing magenta that he's grown used to by now. It's burnt into his brain, the colour he sees when he closes his eyes to sigh again.

Just as he rolls over, there's a knock at the door, and he sits up immediately.
The blackout is magenta-tinged, but he focused enough to see the door open, white Altean light flooding the room, oceans of brightness pushing back against the dull sand he kind of feels like he's drowning in. It hurts his eyes at first - he didn't realise he'd been wallowing in the dark for that long - but it passes quickly, or, at least, quick enough.
The communicator is shoved under the pillow, hidden like pirate treasure in black sand, when the figure in the doorway is nowhere near tall enough.

"Lance?" The voice from the door says, and black mixes with yellow as Hunk awkwardly edges his way into room, "you okay bud?"
"Yeah," Lance replies, fixing a tired grin as Hunk frowns in the doorway, "just, I dunno', tired."
Hunk nods in understanding, face twisting in sympathy. They've all been feeling the strain recently, the surprising strain of not being able to do anything, being forced to sit tight as they zip around the universe. They're chasing information that the Blade have to get for them before they can strike, and even their covert operations aren't turning up much.
"I know dude, I am as well," Hunk admits with a wry laugh, shuffling awkwardly on the spot, "I- I wanted to apologise, y'know, for snapping earlier-?"
"Dude, it's fine," Lance interjects, and he means it, he really does; they're all stressed, and Hunk doesn't deal with his stress well at the best of times.
"As long as you're sure."
Lance nods, and Hunk's face lifts immediately. Of course he would be worried about what Lance thought of him - they were friends, of course.
"I- um, I'm gonna' do dinner soon," Hunk says, changing the subject with a grin, "I think the others want to apologise too- we need a group apology session or something."
"Sounds good buddy," Lance agrees happily, and Hunk nods, jogging over to squeeze Lance tightly around the shoulders. Then he bustles off, muttering under his breath about head-holes and circle time.