.

.

It used to be living with the scabs and bruises. Chafed, pinkened knees and visible scrapes on his nose and the mottled, gleaming eye-injuries turning black after a week.

Keith remembers picking off his gummy, deadened skin until blood pushes to the surface. He remembers being thrown a couple of Band-aids from the nurse's office after one of the boys in a government-sanctioned home blindsides him, pummeling Keith against the lockers. Keith would wrap the thin, crappy adhesive around the deepest cuts to his knuckles, until it leaked and puddled through with a scarlet hue.

(He had to fight back. Who else was gonna stand up for Keith otherwise?)

At the Galaxy Garrison, Keith finally got access to the sterile, white bandages and gauze dressings and ointments to protect himself from infections. Mostly with Shiro's help. And being a paladin of Voltron, he's watched his own shattered ribs set with Altean med-tech years beyond human invention.

Scars don't have to exist anymore.

(But… Keith thinks he'll always be carrying them regardless.)

Most of the back of Pidge's hand is swollen and flushing into a bluish green color, especially around her middle finger's biggest knuckle. Keith treats her fingers gently, spreading them apart and examining her hand for any torn muscle or possibly for any broken bones. Nothing so far.

"Did you win?" he asks lowly.

The corners of Keith's mouth uplift when Pidge scoffs on the tabletop's edge, dangling her legs freely, and exhales a laugh.

"I did this to myself. Not everybody wants to get in a fight like you, Keith."

"Not everybody wins," Keith counters, inspecting two popped blood-vessels by her ring finger but deeming them minor, listening to Pidge blow a small, teasing raspberry.

"Arrogant…"

He doesn't bother to argue that, dropping Pidge's left hand. "It'll be hard to flex your hand for a little while, but getting the swelling down will keep it from getting worse," Keith tells her monotonously, backing away when she heaves herself off the tabletop.

"You're alright, Keith," Pidge announces.

It's the beginnings of a shit-eating grin on her face, as she nudges her uninjured fist against his arm. Keith's own shoulder bumps to hers.

They leave in a comfortable, mutual silence. Everything's better together.

.

.


Voltron isn't mine. HetaRosFangirl requested some platonic/friendship Kidge and I rarely get to do platonic these days! I was glad to try it! Well I hope you like this and I hope everybody else does too! It was a lot of fun to kinda peek into it. Comments/thoughts are deeply appreciated! :)