Some Klance oneshots or something

Nightmares

(Once again I want to jump on the "everyone else has already done this" train)

3rd person pov
God, Keith hated sleeping. Or at least trying to. Every time he tried to close his eyes, forcing himself to breathe evenly, he would be jolted into existence a cold sweat covering his body. He would try again, only to see pained faces of anyone he'd ever cared about, sad, angered disappointed in him, Keith, the so called most talented pilot of his generation, failing them. He couldn't handle it. He'd given up on sleep.

One particular night, Keith snapped back to consciousness after a particularly nasty 13 minutes of sleep. He groaned loudly and flopped back on his bed. The boy pressed his palms to his in an effort to stop the tears from leaking out, with little success. He rolled over trying to suppress the whimpers crawling up his throat. And failed.

Lance was no stranger to sleepless nights either. He could usually fall asleep and stay asleep for a few hours, but soon wake. He couldn't stop the swirling images of sunny beaches, little kid's hands waving in his face, cloudy grey skies with tiny droplets of water pattering on his face. He would wake, expecting to smell a delicious homemade breakfast, but was instead met with metal floors and walls. He couldn't help but stare at the grey ceiling wondering if he'd ever see those things again.

Lance shuffled down the hall towards the kitchen, he wanted a glass of water. These dreams didn't make him sad because they reminded him of home, because it was home. They actually made him smile a little. What made his insides churn was the though that these memories could fade into little specks in the vast void of space, as time went on. That's why he'd run those pictures over and over again behind his lidded eyes, along with voices, names, dates, little features on his family's faces. He couldn't forget these. He wouldn't.

As the blue eyed boy made his way down the corridor, he heard a quiet... Squeaking?
It wasn't like Allura's mice, it was still.. some sort of animal of.. sorts. That, mixed with, like, an old rusty swivel chair. It was coming from Keith's room. What was going on in there?

"Keith? Buddy?" Lance knocked gently on the door. "You okay?" The door slid open smoothly, revealing the shorter boy, wearing his signature black shirt, along with loose red shorts. "Wha-? ...Lance? What.. what do you want?" Keith asked, now desperately trying to wipe the remaining tears off his face. "Oh, oh, ah nothing.. wait are, are you crying?" Lance marveled at the black haired boy. "Ah, what!  No! Just.. sweating. Sweaty. Not crying." Keith rubbed at his eyes more.

"Sweating with your eyes? Keith we both know something's not right. Please tell me." Lance took a step into the other boys room. "No, no I'm, I'm fine, really, Lance. Now please. Leave." He spoke, turning away from the concerned bi -ahem- boy. "No, you are not, Keith! This is bad! You can't just expect me to ignore this! If you're all messed up, Voltron is gonna fall apart! We might not even be able to form Voltron!" Lance whisper-yelled.

Lance walked further into Keith's room, pacing about. "Keith! Of all people, I thought, you, the greatest pilot of the generation, would have to be telling me, Lance, to pull it together!" Keith snapped. "That's the problem, Lance!" "What? What's the problem? That I-" "No!" Keith interjected. "I can't the best pilot! I just can't! Okay!?" The black haired boy's eyes were now filling with tears again. "Oh, oh no, Keith, no, I'm sorry, please tell me what's going on! Please?" Lance begged, putting his hands on the other's shoulders, pulling him closer.

"I can't be the best pilot! I can't do it. What if I fail?" He quite literally cried. "What if someone gets hurt? What if I can't save someone, what if they die? I'm supposed to be there, be the best, a paladin of Voltron!" He leaned into Lance's chest. "Shh shh, Keith, it's gonna be okay. Shhhh." Lance pulled back slightly, leaning down to look the other in the eyes. "Why would you think that? Why in space would you think that?" "Because! Because these, these nightmares, they happen, they, you, you or Pidge, or Hunk or Shiro, you all think I'm some great person, pilot, whatever! But I'm not! I fail at something or another. And you all hate me for it! And I know, I know, that those stupid dreams are right. I'm gonna get us all killed!  I'm gonna mess up, Lance! Don't you see it!?" Keith was near yelling now.

"Keith! No! How could you not let anyone know about this? You could have told me! Come on." Lance pulled the teary-eyed boy to his bed and sat down, pulling the other down next to himself. "Shh. Keith, how long has this been going on?" Lance was now rubbing small circles on Keith's back. "Um, since a-a few months after we joined Voltron." Keith choked out through hiccups. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" Lance's voice low and soothing. "B-because I'm not supposed to be weak! I'm not supposed to get nightmares, Lance! And it's not like anyone could *hiccup* really help.." "Oh, Keith, come on." The lanky Cuban boy pulled Keith down next to him, holding him close.

"Hey, hey hey. It's okay. It's okay to cry." Lance cooed. He turned his face so it was closer to the violet-eyed boy beside him. "Keith. The nightmares are dreams, and dreams alone. They've got nothing on you, alright? Nothin'." Keith sniffled. "But they come back. Every night. Every night I'm not good enough to save you all." He looked at Lance. The taller boy held him tighter. "You.. could talk to me any time, ya know, Keith." Lance shifted so he wasn't staring into the intense gaze of the boy in front of him.

"Oh, um." Keith looked down. "Thank you." He swiped the back of his hand across his pale face, which streaked tears across his cheek. He looked back up again. "Lance?" "Yeah?" "Do you ever get nightmares?" Lance's breathing hitched. He thought for a moment. "Occasionally. I don't know if they're really nightmares though. I don't know." Keith shifted so he could look at Lance better. "What do you mean? His breathing was less hiccup-y (bear with me on the made up word)  and more controlled. "Well, they're not bad dreams, just, they make me.. sad." "What are they about?" "Home. They're about my home."

"..Oh." Keith said finally, as everyone knew about Lance's homesickness. After a long while, Keith finally spoke. "If, if you'd want to, you could talk about it.." Lance turned to face Keith again. "Yeah, I wanna talk about it. I see all the things I love. People, places, noises, everything. But it's not there." Keith brought up a hand to stroke across Lance's cheek. "I'm sorry. Lance, I'm so sorry." Keith looked at him before carefully choosing his next words. "If it's not too hard, could you tell me about all these things? I want to know what to look for when we get back to Earth." Lance smiled. "Really? Well, one of my favorite things is.." Lance continued on, and on.

The two boys stayed wrapped together, until about eight in the morning, when a certain gremlin by the name of "Pidge" bursts through the door, yelling "KEITH YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKER HUNK HAS BREAKFAST READY AND REFUSES TO SERVE IT WITHOUT EVERYONE." She pauses for a moment. "LANCE IS THAT YOU TOO? THE SAME APPLIES TO YOU TOO, FUCKFACE." A distant voice calls "Language, Pidge!"

     ~end