original French one is here & @moki-art made a super cool fanart here!!
Klance, 1 300+ words of fluff, autistic!Keith & ADHD!Lance, I guess it’s taking place somewhere in s1
Lance had followed his plan step by step: leaving his bed, going out of his room, walking in the corridors, not getting lost, knocking at Keith’s door. But he was realizing, now that the door was opened, that he didn’t plan this far and had no idea how to start.
The castle was silent for three hours, giving team Voltron the rest they needed after a long day of training. Though none of them was asleep yet – for different reasons. Keith, from his part, was enjoying the silence. Laying down on his bed, eyes fixed upon the ceiling, he was trying to focus on his breathing and clear out his mind. So far, it didn’t work that well: he went too far in his thoughts resulting in him getting angry at everything, mostly at himself. He was just breathing calmly again, so he would have ended up falling asleep in few minutes. If it weren’t for the knocks on his door which draw him out of this peaceful state.
The knocks were weak, almost hesitating, but it was enough to break the silence. Keith sighed. It likely wasn’t an emergency, or the alarm would have rung. It likely wasn’t important, or the knocks would have been louder. And if it wasn’t an emergency, nor important, Keith would rather stay in his bed – and too bad for his curiosity. The knocks started again, harsher this time. Keith frowned. He thought the whole team was asleep for a long time, and he couldn’t figure why he would be needed in the middle of their fake night – let’s be honest, it likely was a trap. Logic told him to not move, but he get up anyway. He opened the door and fixed his guest, stunned, until the latter finally spoke.
“Hey, said Lance quietly.
Hey, answered Keith on the same tone.”
He was waiting for the rest; Lance didn’t continue. Keith wondered if he knew this social rule – so elementary even him figured it out – which said that when we were visiting someone, we quickly explained why. Probably not, as Lance still didn’t add anything. Unless Keith misunderstood the rule, even completely invented it – after all, it already happened. Maybe it was his turn to speak – but in this case, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Keith could feel his heart slowly panicking and he had to analyse the situation three times before being certain that it was Lance which had to talk. Lance was the one who showed up uninvited, the one who greeted him, the one to which he just answered. It was Lance’sturn to talk. Though he stayed there, without moving, fixing Keith, as if he suddenly forgot why he was here in the first place.
He did, indeed. Lance felt lost. Until now, it had been easy. He had followed his plan step by step: leaving his bed, going out of his room, walking in the corridors, not getting lost, knocking at Keith’s door. He succeeded easily. But he was realizing, now that the door was opened, that he didn’t plan this far and had no idea how to start.
“Lance?”
Like a reflex, Lance answered right away. He stammered, cleared his throat and then, as to make up for the long silence, he talked a lot, very fast.
“So the things is, three weeks ago I was looking for something because Coran told me about lion’s slippers so I was looking for it and while looking I found some wool. (Lance took his first break, too short for Keith to get all the informations he just unleashed.) Well, I’m not sure it’s actually wool as it’s really softer and-”
And Lance explained at length the differences between what he found and the wool, the real one, the one he had on Earth. But it wasn’t all, he also explained that when he found it, he had an idea, and momentarily forgot about the slippers while he looked for needles, or at least something to use as needles. He precised that he already noticed something similar in the kitchen, and indeed, it worked well. Then he told that he started knitting without really thinking of it, by habit. Each time they got a bit of free time, knitting would take his mind off things. And he added other details that Keith struggled to understand as Lance talked too fast – moreover his attention left him twice during the monologue.
“.. at first I thought of Allura but actually after-
-So?” Keith cut off finally.
Lance immediately shut up, and seemed confused for few seconds.
“Ah! Yes sorry! So I told myself: “Lance, to who the red would suit better, and whose style would need some improvement?” and I answered myself: “Lance, obviously, it’s Keith!”
To go along with his words, Lance didn’t stop himself from winking, which Keith could have accepted if he only did that. As he could have tolerated, alone, the finger guns pointed on him. But Lance did both at the same time, which was ridiculous and made no sense.
“So, Lance repeated lowering his head toward his pocket and starting to take wool out of it, I came to bring it to you.”
Keith stayed silent. It was clear that it was his turn to talk, but he stayed speechless. He was fascinated by the red fabric that Lance was still pulling away from his jacket, like in a magic trick – and Keith believed it would never stopped. It looked so soft, so smooth. He felt like burying his hand in it and left it there forever. Then Lance’s last words came back to his mind.
“Wait, what?
-It’s.. hm… for you.”
Lance had finally pulled away all the length of the red piece, and was handing it to him. Keith lower his eyes toward the scarf, then to Lance, then the scarf, then Lance.
“It took you three weeks to make that?
-It’s a very long scarf, countered Lance. And in the meantime, I had to defend the universe.
-You defended the universe.
-Exactly.”
Lance frowned; Keith mimicked him. Lance could have expected the attacs, but once again: he didn’t think post-knocking-on-the-door. Keith didn’t even answer. Worst, for a while, Lance thought he would roll his eyes. But he didn’t: he stayed still, arms crossed, fixing him as if he was waiting for something. Silence came back, heavy and unbearable, before Lance remembered why he was here.
“Yeh, so, hm..”
He lingered over another “hmm” before giving up on talking. For lack of words and for lack of responses from his interlocutor, Lance got closer from half a step and put the scarf on Keith’s neck. The latter didn’t move, didn’t even say anything about Lance’s blushing – knowing that he had the same on his own cheeks.
“Like that, said Lance taking an end of the scarf, maybe you’ll be less cold*.”
Keith wasn’t sure it worked like that, but he let go.
“And like that, continued Lance while wrapping the scarf around his neck for the third time, maybe you’ll stop crossing your arms.”
Keith didn’t cross his arms because he was cold, but he didn’t contredict him. On the contrary, he nodded and layed his arms down – which was a coincidence, obviously.
Lance stepped away and let his eyes slide on Keith. “It makes you cooler,” he concluded.
Keith was still silent, quite flustered. Lance understood – he was too. He stepped backwards again, hesitating, before turning back and disappearing in the corridor – not without attacking Keith one last time with his finger guns.
So Keith closed the door and met his reflection right when he turned his head. The fabric really was softer than average wool. It was just touching his neck enough to be pleasing, and didn’t attacked his skin; it was warm without having to be a tight turtleneck. And, indeed, he looked cooler. Though it was messy. Lance had roughly wrapped the scarf, so that the turns were inconsistent – one too loose, the other not enough. He will have to take it off in order to fix it. But he wasn’t sure he would ever want to take it off.
*it’s a pun which is better in French. So yes, Lance is using “be cold” as in “be distant”. It’s clearer in French bc it’s not the same effing verb. I didn’t find any other way to word that bc English hates me, pls enjoy the pun anyway.
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rubythetuesday3 said: AMAZING
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