Chapter Text
My mamma used to say, ‘There is nothing sadder than two broken lovers, willing, but unable to love.’ I never understood why she said this, or what it meant.
Now when I think back I wonder if she knew my fate. As if she saw my future, and was warning me of a tragedy I couldn't see. One that I couldn’t stop.
**
“WHAAAAT!?” Lance screeches into the night air, hands pressed against the cold glass of the bar door. “What is this!” He presses his face even closer, forehead pushed where the notice has been taped, breath fogging up the glass. Pidge nudges Lance over, pushing their way towards the notice.
“Out of business? Since when?” They say, tone dry as they reached up to fix their glasses.
“Exactly! How can they be out of business when we come here every week? Every time, without fail!” Lance paces the pavement in front of the bar, overdramatic as usual and huffing like a child.
“Lance, we haven't been here for a month, what are you talking about?” Hunk says and regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth when he hears Lance gasp, offended.
“Excuse me sir, but midterms where last month and I had 3 exams! Are you aware that my economics exam was worth 35% of my mark? I think my notes are still imprinted on my face from the number of times I fell asleep studying.” Hunk sighs, exasperated as he watches his best friend shove his face towards him in an attempt to show where said notes are ‘imprinted.’ He shoves Lance backwards lightly, nodding to get Lance to move his face from his. Taking no notice, he continues his rant, “Not to mention you weren’t any better. I didn’t see you for a week man. And we’re roommates.”
“Oh my god, they were roommates” Pidge speaks up from beside them, looking up from their phone to flash the two a knowing smirk, before returning to whatever it was that they were doing. Lance glares at them for half a second before he whips his face back over to Hunk.
“All I’m saying is last month doesn’t count.” At his words, Hunk looks back at Lance, having been staring at Pidge in confusion.
“Yeah but I guess in that time they closed down.” Hunk says, shrugging casually, unaffected. That bothered Lance.
Lance bristled. “Yea, but-," protesting.
“I found another bar the next block over, let's go there.” Pidge cuts off, pointing down the street towards the direction of this ‘new bar.' Lance gapes at his friends, still offended.
“Now hang on,” he tries again.
“Yeah okay sounds good, let’s go.” Hunk interrupts, walking off with Pidge. Leaving Lance gaping like a fish at his two friends as they leave the now-closed bar. He stands there waiting for his friends to at least call him over, but when he notices that they really aren’t, he pulls himself out of his shock and starts towards the pair.
“Hey, wait up!” He shouts, running after them.
Catching up, Lance walks backwards in front of the two so that he’s facing his so-called friends. “Have neither of you any sense of loyalty?” Arms out to his sides with and an expectant raise of his brows, Lance waits for an answer, but the two just shrug.
“We only went there because all the other bars were too expensive or all the idiot frat boys hung out there,” Pidge says, still looking down at their phone. “The place wasn’t exactly ideal, Lance.”
“Yeah,” Hunk pipes in. “Not to mention the bartenders were always super mean and the tables were always sticky.” Hunk makes a disgusted face as he wiggles his fingers around. Twirling back around so that he’s now walking beside his friends Lance concedes.
“I guess you're right.” He sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “They didn’t have any live performances either. Not to mention they only played the top 10. I can only listen to Cardi B so many times!”
“You love Cardi B,” Pidge says matter of factly.
“I do, but a guy needs variety.”
“Besides, this place might be awesome,” Hunk says focusing the topic of conversation back to their current situation. “Are there any reviews Pidge?”
“Not many, but the ones here seem to all be positive.” They say, scrolling their phone. Suddenly they snort, a hand coming up to cover their smile by pushing up their glasses.
“What?” Lance asks peeking over his friend's shoulder.
“Some dude said, in I quote: ‘The performer dude is hot as fuck and an amazing singer, 10/10 would pay to fuck while he plays guitar.’” They say, laughing through their words.
“Wow, he must be good.” Hunk replies, a bemused smile on his face.
“Here we are,” Pidge deadpans, shoving their hands into the pockets of their pants. Looking up at the big neon sign of the bar, they read it out loud, “ Voltron.”
After a moment of silence between the group, Lance decides “That’s a dumb name,” Staring critically at the sign with a raised eyebrow.
“You’re a dumb name,” Pidge smirks before nudging the taller boy with their elbow and walking towards the bar.
“Says you! ” He shouts after their retreating back. He stands outside the bar, moping before he feels Hunk pushing him forwards and before he knows it they're walking inside and take in the interior of the bar.
The room is dimly lit and dark due to most of the walls being painted black. White specks are splattered everywhere, reflecting the lights hanging throughout the room, giving off an obvious space feel. Although the lights are dim, five areas of the large room have different coloured lights shining down on the people seated there. The colours red, yellow, green, blue and purple are scattered around the room overhead, and Lance can't help but feel that the colours hold some sort of importance. They can all feel it.
“Wow,” is all that’s said between the group as they walk in. Heading for the front of the room towards the stage, Lance leads the group to a small table. Sitting down they look around the room some more.
“What an upgrade.” Pidge blurts after the group had been silently gaping at the decor of the bar.
“You said it,” is all Lance can think to say before he snaps himself out of whatever trance this place has put him under and shoots up from his seat.
“Drinks, let’s see how good their drinks are,” Lance yells as he marches his way over to the bar. Very concentrated on the task at hand, Lance didn’t even glance at the tender before he was slamming his palms on the counter. head rising as he levels his gaze with the man in front of him, mouth ready to blurt his order.
Now lance prides himself on being comfortable to admit when he finds another man attractive, and he thinks it’s totally fine, healthy even.
But to what god does he need to consult for sculpting this gorgeous piece of speciMAN.
The bartender staring back is giving Lance this questioning yet amused look that to be honest is unfairly attractive on him. Closing his mouth, Lance gulps. The very embarrassed Cuban boy lifts his hands from the counter only to rub the sweat gathering there against his jeans. Smiling awkwardly, he manages to stammer out a mortified, “Um, hey~” as he prays for the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
Taking this time to steal a quick glance up the man's entirety, Lance feels himself start to sweat some more. The man has a head of white fluffy hair with dark roots accompanied by a jagged scar cutting across his face and over his nose. Sharp eyes that smile in warmth yet Peirce him all the same. This man stood built like a house, wearing a black fitted t-shirt and black jeans that fit him almost illegally. Honestly, how can someone fill out a shirt so well and not-
“Can I get you something?” The gorgeous man speaks in a voice as smooth as molasses. Lance somehow manages to pull his soul back down to earth.
“Oh ye-yeah sorry about that, can I, uh, get some drinks?” Scratching the back of his neck Lance mumbles as he sits at a stool. At this point, refusing to even make eye contact with the literal GOD. Now Lance isn’t gay, but he can admit when someone’s attractive. And god damn, it’s like the word was invented after someone laid eyes on him. The man huffs out a short laugh. Crossing his arms, he leans back against the counter in front of the shelves that hold the liquor Lance is looking for.
“Do you have anything in mind or are you looking for a surprise?” He says, smirking roguishly down at him and Lance can feel his cheeks redden. My god why is he being so awkward right now? He usually prides himself on his people 'skillz,' so where the fuck have they gone? Whatever there’s still time to save whatever dignity he just waisted standing here blubbering like an idiot.
"Right," Lance starts clearing his throat. "Can I get a-" words quickly taper out as another man comes marching out of the door behind the counter. Immediately grabbing a random liquor off the shelf he checks the spout on top.
"Hey Shiro, I'm gonna go up now so try not to scare the customers away with that ugly mug of yours okay?" The man says, tone playful as he then tilts his head back, pouring a healthy serving of the liquor into his mouth. Slamming the bottle down, he whips his chin with the back of his hand.
“Yeah, well I’d say the same to you but I manage to not be a complete ass at all waking hours of the day.” The man who Lance could only assume was Shiro replies with the same light-hearted tone and matching smirk as he picks up the discarded bottle and turns to return it to its place.
"HA," this new man laughs like it's forced out of him, pushing past the swinging door. "And who told you that?" Walking around the bar counter to stand on the side Lance was on, he turns his head ever so slightly, just now taking notice of his presence. He stares at Lance a moment, then he's smirking and leaning against the counter, head tilted as he leans over, outstretched arm keeping him upright as he stares down at Lance. His dark hair frames his face perfectly despite being tied up, he has a sharp nose and thick lashes that sit over gorgeous deep eyes. He stares up at this man and can't help but freeze in place with a single thought left in his otherwise short-circuiting mind.
Holy shit.
“Are you the one that happened to plant such ridiculous thoughts into that head of his!” The man speaks, eyes slowly dragging up Lance's entirety. His direct question somehow managing to wake him from his dazed state.
“Um-I,” he tries before he’s cut off.
“Keith stop picking on my clientele and get your ass on that stage,” Shiro pipes in, balling something up and throwing it at him, “before I kick it up there.” The man now known to be Keith catches what reveals to be a towel and throws it over his shoulder.
"Yeah yeah, whatever you say, boss man." The Keith guy says, pushes off the counter but stays in place. He turns to face him and now Lance can really get a good look at him. Unlike the bartender, this 'Keith' isn't as built. That being said he definitely still qualifies as muscular. A loose maroon t-shirt fitting perfectly on broad shoulders and black ripped jeans that he probably knows he's pulling off. "Make sure you stick around," he says, a far too knowing smirk on his lips. Does he feel dizzy? Was he really just checking this guy out? Keith leans forward, causing the t-shirt to slip from one of his shoulders and Lance feels his mind spin, " I don't usually disappoint." Then at his words, he has the audacity to fucking wink at him. And as he walks backwards away from him, he trails his hand on the counter, eyes never leaving his. Then turning on his heel, he walks toward the stage without another word.
Lance watches his back as he leaves. Catching himself staring, again, he looks at the ground. Swallowing his fucking spit, he collects what's left of his brain cells and turns his head back to the bartender, feeling a little more than a little light-headed.
“Surprise me, but make it strong.”
**
Somehow after all that Lance manages to make it back to the table where Pidge and Hunk have been waiting. Three unknown drinks in hand and two unknown shots in his stomach.
“About goddamn time, we were beginning to think you fucking died.” Pidge all about shouts as he plops onto his chair, sliding the drinks onto the table.
"Not far from it," is all he says in reply before snatching his drink. Gulping down the apparently sweet liquid of whatever the fuck this was.
“What is this?” Hunk asks holding the drink up to his face, closely examining it. Lance holds up a finger as he downs his drink. Slamming it down once finished he makes a satisfying 'ahh' sound before looking dully up at his friend.
“Not a clue,” is his reply, before he burps and leans back in his chair, pouting. Hunk and Pidge share a glance of frowned brows and shrugs before Hunk clears his throat.
“Um, you alright man?” Hunk cautioned, setting his drink aside as he leans further on the table.
“Yeah, what happened,” Pidge asks just as the lights on the stage flicker on. And on walks the guy from before, the Keith guy. They all turn to the stage as he walks up to the microphone, acoustic guitar in hand and lights casting lovely shadows on his face.
“Hey, hope everyone's having a good Saturday night,” he yells into the mic, receiving answering screams and shouts from the audience and his friends, but Lance stays silent, staring. Another man walks on stage behind him and sits at a drumming box, he nods at Keith when he looks over, “Let's start with something a bit slower, how but it?” Keith asks into the microphone and slings his guitar strap over his shoulder as the audience screams in response. Dragging a stool from the side of the stage, he sits in front of the mic. Positioning his hands on the strings he looks out at the bar, almost immediately finding Lance amongst the crowd. Smirking at him for only a second, causing a heavy blush to settle on Lance's cheeks and ears, the drummer counts Keith in.
“Him,” Lance says, loud enough for his friends to hear.
“What?” Pidge asks innocently, brows frowning as they look over at their friend.
"He happened," Lance answers, never taking his eyes off Keith as he nods to the beat provided by the drummer with closed eyes. Strumming strong chords, he nods with the beat of the music he's creating. And when he starts to sing, Lance feels like his soul leaves his body. His voice is smooth and strong as it echoes through the speakers of the silent bar. Keith sings with his eyes closed, head bobbing to the beat and melody. Face relaxed, but flexing slightly at certain notes as he hits them.
It’s hypnotizing.
Lance doesn’t know this song but he’s already decided that he likes it. And as Keith finishes off the first chorus Lance thinks the worst is over. That is until he starts singing in fucking Japanese. The words flowing out of him with such fluidity and passion all while strumming at the guitar. With the bridge to the third verse, the song suddenly quickens. Keith strums skillfully at the guitar as the pace picks up.
"I know I know I know I know I know I know," He repeats into the mic over and over with raising intensity, looking down as he strums at his guitar. The repetition building the tension in the song so beautifully that Lance can feel himself leaning closer. Suddenly he stops strumming, belting the final words, leaving them to echo in the room. If anyone wasn't watching before they are now, breaths heald as the sound of guitar and Keith's voice fill the silence as he all about whispers the words into the mic.
“Were taking off together.” Voice so full of emotion you can hear his breathing. Drumming stopped, all that’s left is Keith's voice and the ever so delicate sound of the strumming of his guitar.
“Even though we always crash and burn,” Keith sighs into the mic, head shaking.
“Tonight you and I, will fall from the sky.”
Totally forgetting about the guitar in his lap as he grips the mic. “Drag me all the way to hell~,” And as he holds the last note, Lance can feel his eyes go wide as his body shivers with goosebumps. Who the fuck is this guy?
Holding the note he tilts his head back with closed eyes and frowned brows. This one-note dripping in a kind of emotion and intensity that you can feel as it climbs higher and higher before cutting off. Lance could swear he's never heard anything as beautiful in his life.
Stage lights casting shadows on his features, the slightest amount of sweat glistening his face and neck. Lance couldn't look away if he tried.
“I know I know, we're taking off together.”
“Even though we always crash and burn.”
“Tonight you and I, will fall from the sky.”
“Drag me all the way to hell, cuz I'm never gonna let it go.” Keith sings flawlessly, hitting every single note like he was born to sing it.
“Cuz I’m never gonna let it go~” he sings into the mic, finishing the song as silence rings in the room with the echo of his voice still lingering. Finally opening his eyes, the crowd erupts in cheers and shouts of praise. And then he smiles. A face-splitting toothy smile that shines under the stage lights like the goddamn sun. Now, what is Lance meant to do when Keith directs that blinding smile towards him?
What the fuck is going on?
**
The next morning, despite trying to drown out the obvious full body break down with various alcoholic drinks. Lance still wakes with a splitting headache, a dry throat, and far too many questions with no clue as to where to find the answers. What happened last night? Why was he acting so weird? And why the fuck does the mere thought of that guy bring a flush to his cheeks and a rise in his heartbeat? Eyes closed, Lance lays in bed wide awake. Arms and legs spread, except for the arm slung over his eyes. This is ridiculous, he was just some guy at a bar. Just some guy with a killer voice and pretty eyes, who cares. Lance needed to stop acting like he's never met another attractive person before and move the fuck on. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get the image of his face out of his head. Him smirking at him at the bar, him smiling at him from the stage, his face as he sings ridiculous notes with closed eyes and passionate voice. Lance sighs, he needs to do something to get his mind off this guy.
"HUNK!" Lance shouts through the entirety of their shared apartment. At his volume, he knows Hunk can hear him, so when he doesn't answer, Lance knows he's ignoring his call. Despite this Lance calls again, "HUNKY BEAR!" Lance shouts at the same volume in a sing-song voice. With no answer yet again, Lance opens his mouth, about to shout at his friend again when his phone dings. Looking to the side he grabs it from his side table and holds it up above his face. Squinting at the brightness and his lack of contacts, Lance reads his newest notification.
Hunkie Bear: Lance, get up and come here.
Is what the message from Hunk reads. Lance looks under that notification to find another one from Pidge.
Devil Pidgon: Lance shut your lazy ass up I can’t hear myself think.
Lance glares at this message as if the gremlin themself could receive the look through their phone. Just to be spiteful, Lance cups both hands around his mouth and once again.
“HUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!” Lance bellows, carrying out the vowel in his friend's name until several loud bangs are heard from the wall next to his head and continue even after he stops yelling, followed by a slightly muffled but very clear. ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP!’
Sighing as he stares up at his star-covered ceiling, Lance can’t help but imagine the singer from the bar. His raven hair and deep eyes piercing through his own. The paleness of his skin somehow looking more beautiful than sickly. the way his arms and hands strained over the chords as he played guitar. How smooth and pink his li-
“LANCE.”
The Cuban boy jumps up from bed, smashing heads painfully with the very pidgin who woke him in the first place. “Jesus fucking mother of all things holy,” they groan, hand over their forehead as they crumble to the ground in pain. Lance isn’t doing much better, hands over his forehead and crumpled into the fetal position on his bed, groaning as well.
“Pidge what did I say about yelling religious slurs in th- what happened?” Hunk walks into Lance's room dressed in an apron and holding a spatula, glancing between the two. Pidge just fans at the air in front of them in a gesture of ‘it doesn’t matter’ before sitting on Lance's desk chair and propping their arm on the table, still cradling their four head.
“This just made my headache worse, Pidge why?” Lance groans from his bed, voice muffled by the covers. What was their four head made of, cement?
“Well no one told you to smash your skull against mine now did they?” Pidge counters, now messaging their temple in what Lance can only assume are attempts of relieving some pain. “ I was just trying to inform Lance that it is now four,” they pause to check their watch before continuing, putting their head back in its place. “Thirty-four pm, and also a Sunday if you didn’t know. Therefore meaning it’s your turn to buy the take out.” Pidge says before rising from their seat and heading to the door. Just as they reach Hunk Pidge turns with an evil glint in their eye. “ I vote the blades,” and just like that they disappear, literally skipping along as Lance shrieks.
“YOU EXPECT ME TO GO ALL THE WAY TO THE BLADES?” Lance hollers after the gremlin despite them being long gone. The Blades was a restaurant on the other side of the city, it’s about a 45-minute drive and that’s without New York traffic, which there most definitely will be. But despite that, it’s still somehow worth it. The Blades is honestly one of Lances' top ten places to eat. They serve literally any type of food under the sun and it’s always so so good. The people who work there are usually a little passive but otherwise, it’s the best. If you weren’t the poor sucker who has to drive an hour and a half in traffic to get there that is.
“Hunkie bear, please don’t make me drive all the way there.” Lance pleads as he crawls his way to the edge of his bed to be in front of his Samoan friend. On his hands and knees, Lance puts on his fabulous puppy dog look, accompanied by the fact that he actually might cry if he has to drive all the way there.
"I want a burrito and their spicy ramen please." Is all he says as he claps a large hand on his shoulder in mock sympathy before smiling at the look of betrayal on his face and walking back to the kitchen to finish whatever baked good he was preparing. Leaving poor Lance to sit back on his feet, huffing. Flopping back onto the bed in defeat, he picks up his phone that laied forgotten amongst the sheets. Turning it on and, wow! It really was 4 pm. What a lazy piece of shit he was, how is it that late and he's just waking up? Pushing down all self resentment for literally sleeping the day away, he opens Instagram.
Scrolling through his feed he stops on a picture. Smiling to himself he stares at it. It’s a side profile of her laughing and he can help but smile too. Lance has known Allura since he was five, and as a 21-year-old man, he can sadly agree that he’s had a crush on her for about half that time. He sighs a little too longingly and resists the urge to screenshot shot the picture like a colossal creep and instead just liking it scrolling away.
Around an hour and a half of mindless scrolling, Lance feels far too much like human trash for a casual Sunday than he’d prefer and decides that now is as good as any to start his drive to the blades. After a shower and a change into grey sweatpants a white t-shirt and his timberlands, Lance is in his car and on his way down the streets of New York.
Listening to his driving playlist as he speeds down the highway. he actively pushes 'bar guy' into the far corners of his mind in favour of thinking about Allura. He hasn’t seen her since his father's last dinner party a year ago but they’ve messaged a couple of times since. He thinks about all the conversations online and the dress she was wearing the last time he saw her and he can feel the flush on his face. She is such an amazing and strong person that he couldn’t help but fall for her, despite the obvious platonic feelings she expressed to him every time he flirted with her. He all about stopped pursuing her, but the feeling stayed nonetheless. Everyone else just pales in comparison to her.
Finally reaching the restaurant Lance parks his car, grabs his Wallet and keys before exiting the car and walking in.
Still thinking about Allura, he wonders if he should message her. They haven't talked in so long and it'd be nice to catch up. Walking up to the line in front of the counter, he pulls out his phone and stands behind the only other person in line. Opening Instagram he goes to Allura’s dm and types a simple ‘hey what’s up’ and sends it off without allowing himself a second thought. The person in front of him moves over and Lance walks up to the counter, pulling up the memo he made of Pidge and Hunks orders.
“Hey welcome to the blades,” the cashier says in a bored voice. Lance freezes. Quickly looking up his eyes bulge out of their sockets. No fucking way. Stood there in a purple button-up shirt and a black apron, hair yet again tied back is the very person who has been plaguing his mind. He must recognize him as well because his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Before he could say anything though, bar guy beats him to it.
“Cute guy from the bar.” He says more like a fact than a question as he points at him. Lance can feel the blush down to his toes. Oh god, not this again.
“W-wha?” Is all he manages to get out, god why does this guy make him so flustered?
“You are, aren’t you? The guy last night at Voltron.” He asks with a smirk on his stupid face. Lance tries his best to pull himself together or at least appear to be put together and nods with his best smile.
“And you're the singer from the bar, funny seeing you all the way out here,” Lance commented, shoving his hands in his pants pockets to hide all potential fidgeting.
“I so happen to work down here if you hadn't noticed.” He sasses, arms gesturing down his body at his uniform, obviously hiding his laugh. Lance laughs nervously pulling his arm out to rub at his neck nervously.
“You know what I meant.” Lance reasoned with a roll of his eyes. Looking back in time to see him lean closer over the counter, Lance gulps.
“What about you? You aren’t following me now are you?” The boy says, chin in his hand and eyebrows raised. Lance tries, really hard to fight the flush creeping back up to his already warm cheeks, god fuck he's been talking to the guy for 2 minutes he needs to chill. Sighing quietly to himself, he tries to calm down. If he wants to play games, Lance will play games. And it so happens that Lance is good at them.
“Ha, you wish,” he smirks, arms coming in front of him to cross on his chest. Smirking at the boy in mostly fake confidence. “Like you didn’t wanna see me again anyway.” Lance proclaims with a smirk on his face, feeling a little more like himself and less like a walking disaster.
“You’re right I did.” And just like that Lance is blushing again. Fuck what does he say to that?
“Keith get your head out of your ass and just take the poor guy's order.” A female voice shouts from behind Lance, saving him from whatever embarrassing thing he was about to say. He turns to see the owner of the voice. cleaning tables. She smirks over at them before continuing to wipe at them.
“Yeah, whatever Axca, Like if some cute chick weren’t here you wouldn’t be all over her.” He shouts after her before looking back at Lance, smile still in place. “Ignore her,” the boy says waving his hand in her direction. “I don’t think we’ve formally met.” Shoving his hand over the counter towards Lance, he holds out his palm for him to shake. “I’m Keith.” he introduces, Lance takes the hand offered to him and shakes it with a smile.
“The names Lance.” he proclaimed smiling back, looking him in the eyes, Lance finds himself stuck. How are his eyes, what? Almost purple? There's no way that’s his natural eye colour. Noticing he's been holding his hand out for too long he pulls it away. “Nice to meet you, Keith.” He says shoving his hand back in its respective pocket. He doesn’t say he already knew that. He also chooses to ignore the cold loss feeling on his hand.
“Anyway, is there anything I can help you with?” Keith asks, voice low and smooth as he drags his eyes up Lance's entity. "Lance," he says in a way that Lance can only deem seductive.
“R-right,” Lance replies, having totally forgotten about the food he was burdened to retrieve. He also momentarily for a second forgot how to breathe, but that's beside the point. Pulling out his phone he repeats his friend's odd mixture of food orders and then adds his own. Keith tipes it all down on the computer screen in front of him. Finally finished he can’t help but laugh.
“Anything else, or do you plan on ordering the whole menu.” Keith jokes and Lance giggles, he giggles.
“Yeah well it’s not all for me, my roommates like this place, plus we only eat out on Sundays so we kinda splurge.” He explains with a shrug while he pays.
“Are your roommates the people you were with last night?” Keith says handing him the receipt.
“Yeah, we kinda do everything together.” He explains and takes the receipt and steps to the side, leaning his hip against the counter.
“Are you dating one of these roommates?” Keith inquires leaning back over the counter. Lance can’t help but laugh at the question.
“Oh no no, no way. The one, Pidge is too much for me to handle, and Hunks my best bud.” Lance explains but then feels the urge to add. “Yeah no, I’m very single,” for some reason. Why did he feel the need to explain his current relationship status to basically a random stranger? This guy probably thinks he’s so weird, why can’t he be normal? That be it if Keith thinks him weird he doesn’t show it. Just smiles up at him.
“How interesting.” He breathes in a hushed tone before standing up straight and looking behind him with a polite smile on his face. “Welcome to the blades, what can I do for ya?” Lance steps further away to allow the women behind him to order, pulling out his phone to occupy himself while Keith took her order.
Sometime into playing animal crossing he gets a notification that Allura messaged him back.
Allura: Hey, nothing much. How have you been?
His heart warms a little at her message. He starts typing his reply when someone calls his name, momentarily stopping him from sending it. He lifts his head.
“Lance I’ve got your crazy order,” Keith says from behind the counter with a playful smile on his attractive face, and Lance feels his chest do a weird little flip. He grabs the bags on the counter but Keith places his hand over Lances causing him to freeze and look up at him. Smile still in place, Keith’s face isn’t far from his.
“I’m not terribly patient okay?” He says squeezing his hand and dragging his fingers off Lances, pulling away with a wink. Lance is in such utter confusion that he just frowns his brows at him and nods with a weary okay before turning to leave. Just as he gets to the door he turns and waves goodbye with bags in hand and a smile.
“See ya, Keith.” He says loudly as he pushes the door open with his back. Keith waves back.
“I hope so.” He shouts just as Lance walks out the door towards his car. Confused about Keith’s words and the whole interaction in general, Lance drives home on autopilot as he tries to understand why every time he’s with this guy, every normal bone in his body suddenly dissolves into thin air, leaving him a flimsy, sad excuse for a functioning human adult.
Finally arriving home almost 3 hours after he left, having been in traffic for at least 20 minutes both driving to and from the blades. Lance places both the huge food bags on the dining table as he heads to the kitchen to grab plates and cutlery. He doesn't even blink when Pidge’s tiny feet pound down the stairs and into the dining area at hearing Lance arrive with the-
“FOOOoood!” The little thing screams as it arrives at the bags. Pulling the contents out, Lance can hear them huff on his way back towards them. “The fuck Lance, it’s cold?” They pout, still pulling out the plastic containers and feeling the bottoms to check the temperature.
“Well yeah, took me an hour and a half to drive all the way back here.” Lance huffs, placing the plates down and starting to unpacking the piles of food.
“Hehehe, sucker.” They snicker under their breath and Lance glares at them from across the table, ignoring Hunk as he walks in.
“Do not put the biodegradable containers in the oven for god's sakes please I need it.” Hunk calls as he walks in.
“That was one-time Hunk and I learned my lesson.” Lance chimed in, still looking in the bags for his food.
“Yeah, but only cause you almost burned your eyebrows off with the four-foot fire you created.” Hunk accuses with rolled eyes but a smile in place. About to defend his reputation and eyebrows Lance opens his mouth only to be interrupted.
“Hey Lance, what's this?” Pidge pipes in holding a container to their face.
“What is it pidgon?” Lance says still searching for his garlic knots.
“Somebody wrote their number on one of the containers,” They say frowning at the container like the idea itself is ridiculous, andit was because what?
“What?” Lance voices aloud, Hunk moves over to Pidge peaking over their shoulder as Lance makes his way around the table.
“Yeah and under it, it says, ‘Call me, Keith.’” Pidge says with an all too knowing smirk and an evil glint in their eye.
“WHAT?” Lance screeches, snatching the thing from the literal devil themself and looking over the cover. Low and behold, on top of the white lid reads a phone number and the words ‘call me -Keith’, followed by a god damn winky face? What the fuck?
“Damn Lance didn’t know you swung that way.” Pidge teases, wiggling their shoulders as they stare him down. Lance feels his whole face heat up.
“What? I don’t, I think he was confused.” Lance says with frowned brows looking the container over. “I wasn’t flirting with him I was-,” Lance's words die out on him as realization hits. “Oh fuck Was I?” Lance places the container down and covers his face with his hands, sitting at one of the tables chairs. “I didn’t mean too, I was just talking with him,” Lance says behind the hands covering his face. Hunk just pats his shoulder in sympathy.
“I mean at least you’ll never see him again.” Hunk tries to comfort, Lance nods at his words but for some reason the idea of never seeing Keith again makes him feel uneasy.
“Anyway, what movie are we watching?” Pidge shouts as they walk to the kitchen, probably to reheat their increasingly chilling food.
“I vote Marley & Me,” Hunk says on his way over to the TV to select the movie.
“Good god Hunk it is a Sunday night, I am not going to cry my soul out.” Lance screeches after Hunks retreating form. They all have very acquired tastes, Hunk really likes rom-coms that usually end up with him and Hunk sobbing in a pile of blankets while Pidge not so silently judges them on their so-called gender-conforming masculinity.
“Yeah, that movie even makes me cry,” Pidge shouts over the microwave from their place in the kitchen. They on the other hand like the strangest movies, usually somewhere between documentaries about murders to comedic thrillers about people who hear voices. Lance is the only one with any sense of quality, meaning that he only really watches Disney movies and other animated movies meant for children.
“Hey, Space Jam is on Netflix.” Hunk calls, probably already knowing.
“Hell fucking yes,” Pidge calls back.
“What kind of question even is that?” Lance reiterates.
***
After finally heating up all the food and having probably way too much fun watching Space Jam, Pidge and Hunk head upstairs to their rooms to goof around before bed, leaving Lance to clean up. Picking up and throwing away all the take out containers, Lance hesitates at the one Keith had written on. The thing was, Keith seemed like a cool person, someone Lance wouldn’t mind being friends with despite the circumstances. Only hesitating a moment longer than a moment, Lance pulls out his phone and enters in Keith's number. He hovers over the send button, reading the message over and over again. Taking a breath, he squeezes his eyes shut and sends the message. Before he can freak out anymore, he shoves his phone back in his pocket deciding not to think about it anymore.
After he finishes tidying up, he heads upstairs, changing into his pyjamas. He can’t help the anxious feeling he has about texting Keith. What if he only wants to fuck and Lance asking to be friends makes him mad, or uncomfortable. Mind buzzing, he walks into his on-suit and starts his nighttime routine. He’s standing in his bathroom, mid-exfoliate when his phone dings. He nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin in shock and anxiety, causing him to bite his tongue and choke on his own saliva. Coughing profusely and leaning over the counter with a soapy hand bracing his weight, he tries to recover. Obviously, this is when some of his exfoliator gets in his open eyes. The intense burning taking effect right away causing Lance to scream in agony, squeezing his eyes shut, he rubs at them. Noticing far too late that he was just rubbing more exfoliator into his eyes. Blindly, he sweeps the counter looking for the tap, knocking things off and onto the floor until he finally finds the tap and turns it on, splashing his face violently.
“Lance, what's with all the noise? Sounds like your giving birth to a whale in here.” Pidge says as they walk into Lance's bathroom. Lance turns to see them walking in but immediately regrets opening his eyes. He screams and squeezes them shut, turning to continue viciously splashing his face with cold water. “God why do I bother checking on you, you're a fucking mess,” Pidge mutters as they leave, but Lance is too occupied rinsing his burning eyeballs to really care.
Ten minutes later and a slightly traumatized, Lance with red throbbing eyes, a sore tongue and an increasingly diminishing ego lays down to rest. His pride only wilting more once he realized the reason his phone dinged was that he got an email from Amazon telling him the package he ordered was lost. Closing his sore eyes he can’t help but remember his conversation with Keith. Was he really into him like that? I guess he was being a bit flirtatious. Lance wasn’t weirded out or anything, more shocked really. He thought Keith was cool, and maybe if he was into guys he’d be all for it. But Lance definitely liked girls so there's no way. And yet as Lance drifted into unconsciousness, he couldn’t seem to prevent the raven-haired boy from consuming his every thought.