The high school au no one asked for. Come say hi if you're on tumblr. I'm lanceaboo (vld side blog, but whatever).

Lance planted his forehead on the dining table, silently cursing his luck. "What. The. He-"

"You better be about to say heck, because my mom is right upstairs, Lance," Hunk said, not even glancing up from his notebook. He didn't even stop writing. "Right upstairs. You know she has super hearing. What if she hears you? You won't be allowed to come over anymore and then how will we finish this-"

"Hunk. Buddy." Lance looked up, stopping his process of becoming one with the table. Who wanted to become an inanimate object anyways? "Take a deep breath, dude. I was totally going to say heck. You know I wouldn't do anything to make your mom mad at me. 'Sides. I want her to keep loving me, thank you very much."

Hunk huffed a laugh.

Hunk's mom, a heavy set woman who gave some of the best hugs Lance had received—barring his own mom. She was sweet and kind, but never failed to be strict with Lance, treating him like he was one of her own sons—and she had four, so Lance was glad she was okay with a fifth.

For as long as he could remember, the Garett family had been in Lance's life, ever since Lance and Hunk had met in pre-school and decided they were going to be best friends. Ever since then, Lance and Hunk had been practically inseparable, and Mrs. Garett had gladly taken him into her home, Lance's mom doing the same thing for Hunk.

But sometimes, Hunk's mom was hard to be around. She didn't allow any swearing in her house, which was usually fine since his own mom had the same rule, but Mrs. Garett was a lot stricter. And when Lance was irritated, it was hard to catch himself before anything slipped out. The last time it had happened, Lance had stayed out of the Garett house for as long as he could manage just to avoid seeing the lady again.

Finally, Lance was silent long enough for Hunk to blink up at him, noticing Lance's notebook was pushed to the side. The big guy's shoulders slumped. "Come on, Lance. You can't leave me to do this all alone."

Snorting, Lance threw down his pencil next to the notebook. "I'll finish it eventually. Just not now."

"Uh no." Hunk was shaking his head at Lance. Which the lanky kid totally got. Lance never went through with that claim, always just "forgetting" to finish it and making up some excuse to tell his teachers when he didn't have his work in on time. "This project is forty percent of our grade, Lance. There is no way you're leaving me to do this by myself."

"Fine."

Lance snatched up the notebook again, feeling frustrated with himself. And with this stupid project. And the teacher who had assigned it. Stupid Mr. Iverson. Who even assigned a project due right before Thanksgiving? And why did it have to be a government project?

And why did they have to do it by themselves?

The two friends sat in silence, each working on their part, using their phones whenever they needed to find something. Finally, finally, Lance had enough, the thoughts and complaints that had been building up in his head finally spilling out from his mouth.

"I don't get it."

Hunk's eyes stayed trained on his phone as he scrolled through something—probably to do with their conspiracy. "Get what? The research? If you're having trouble with understanding something, you can just ask me. I'll read it through."

Lance bit his lip. Sometimes he hated this. Sitting here at Hunk's table, in Hunk's house, with such an understand friend. Lance had about zero ability to focus, and Hunk was ten times more understanding than practically everybody in Lance's life, and sometimes Lance didn't realize what Hunk did for him. And here he was, complaining about stupid project.

Didn't mean he was going to admit that, though. Besides, he was pretty sure Hunk knew how grateful Lance was to have a best friend like him.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Lance huffed, like those thoughts never wandered through his mind. Focus.

Hunk sighed, like he knew where this was going. He probably did, seeing as Lance had been complaining about this since Iverson had assigned the project yesterday. "Lance, just stop, okay? We can't change who we got partnered up with."

"Uh, we could if Iverson wasn't such a d- jerk."

"Oh, nice save," Hunk said. And it didn't even seem sarcastic.

"Thank you," Lance said, chest pushed out a little. He deflated a second later when he remembered what they had been talking about. "But seriously. We should talk to Iverson about changing partners. Or doing it just by ourselves."

Hunk glanced up at him. "Okay, I get it, Lance. I get that you hate Keith and that you think he will be no contribution to this project. Trust me. I really, really do." Lance opened his mouth, but Hunk held up a finger. "Wait, no. Shut up for a second and let me finish." Lance closed his mouth. "Look, dude, I get that this is unfair, but talking to Mr. Iverson isn't going to change that. Iverson already hates you, like a lot."

"Yeah, 'cause he's the biggest a- jerk I've met in my entire life. Why would he group us together with Keith when the guy hardly even shows up?" Lance asked, his nose wrinkling.

"He was there when the groups were made," Hunk reminded him. "Iverson had no choice but to put Keith with someone since he was present."

Lance groaned, pushing his face into his hands. "Why does my life suck?"

"You know, it would suck less if we finished this project."

"Yeah, but if we do it, then Keith gets credit, too!" Lance exclaimed, wondering why Hunk wasn't getting this. It wasn't that hard to understand.

The pencil in Hunk's hand stilled. "Learn to problem solve," Hunk suggested. "Get his number next time you see him, that way you can yell at him to do his portion of the work over text message. And also, you won't have to complain to me about Keith not doing anything. You can complain to him. Or just get him to help."

Lance spluttered, floundering for an answer. Him? Talk to Keith? What the hell kind of idea was that? Keith hardly even acknowledged Lance's existence. Why would he give him his number?! The idea was so ridiculous that Lance didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry.

Hunk seemed to have an idea of what was going through Lance's head, because he fixed his best friend with an incredulous stare. Lance wondered if his distaste for the idea was showing on his face.

"You've got to be kidding me, Lance."

"What?" Lance asked, honestly a bit affronted. "I didn't say anything."

"No, but you're thinking it, and why the heck can't you just do anything the easy way? Just ask him for his number, or I'm going to tell Gabby exactly what happened to her pink unicorn when we were in eighth grade."

Lance sat up, hands slapping down on the table as he stood up and leaned over, eyes wide. His voice was deathly quiet when he said, "You wouldn't."

Hunk shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "I will if you don't suck it up and do your part, whether Keith gets credit or not, or you man up and get Keith's number so he can help, too. One or the other, Lance."

Man up. A weird thing for Hunk, a generally nervous, shy person, to say to him. Lance wasn't sure he'd ever heard those words come out of Hunk's mouth before, so if that didn't tell Lance that he needed to shut up or shape up, then the serious look in Hunk's dark eyes sure did.

Lance sat down slowly, relaxing his tense shoulders. "Fine."

Hunk's eyes softened, a small, sincere smile pulling at his lips. "Good. Probably best your sister doesn't know about what happened to her stuffed animal anyways."

"I'm home!" Lance yelled out, letting the front door shut behind him. He threw his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter, glancing around for any sign of his family. There wasn't anyone there, which was odd. The house was never silent—okay, well, it used to not be silent. It was getting quieter and quieter every day.

Lance wasn't home much anymore. As a senior in high school, he had places to go and people (Hunk) to see. Two of his siblings had already moved out, and the other two were growing up fast. Lance wondered if his mom missed the little toddlers they used to be, running around creating messes wherever they went.

Grimacing, Lance thought probably not. His mom never appreciated Lance's ability to destroy everything he came in contact with.

"Hellooo?" Lance called, dropping his backpack in his bedroom (it was the only one on the first floor) and climbing the stairs to see if anyone was home and just not answering. It was almost 6:30, and whether his family wanted to admit it or not, they always came home before dinner, if only to avoid the wrath of the angry mom. "Anybody here?"

The upstairs was completely devoid of life. Gabby's and Tony's doors were both shut, but Lance didn't hear any noise from behind them. His parents' door was open, though, but after a peek into the bedroom, it was clear neither his mom or his dad were there—he hadn't really expected his dad to be there, seeing as his dad usually worked until around seven-ish.

"Okay then," Lance mumbled to himself. It was official. He was the only one home. He sighed and traversed back down the staircase, making a beeline for the fridge. "Might as well get a snack." Who cared if he'd just eaten some grub at Hunk's. He was a teenager. Teenagers ate a lot.

"Oh," Lance thought, halting as he looked at the contents of the fridge. "Well, that's new."

Inside were a few platters of a bunch of different kinds of food, wrapped delicately and elegantly, obviously not for grubby teenage hands. Lance sighed again, closing the fridge and grabbing a banana instead, which he ate in three bites.

His phone buzzed a second later, and Lance fished it out of his pocket, catching the name of who was calling. He groaned. This was not going to be a fun conversation.

He accepted the call. "Hey, dad," he said in greeting, forcing some cheer in his voice. Whatever this was about, he hoped he wasn't in trouble. His dad never called when he was at work unless it was to tell him bad news or to yell at him.

"Lance? Where are you?"

"At home," Lance said, leaning back against the counter. "Why? Where are you?"

"At Javier's. For his birthday dinner. Which you promised you, and I quote, 'wouldn't miss for the world.'"

His dad sounded disappointed, and Lance felt his heart sink a little, because oops. His parents had been planning this night for a few weeks now, and since it was going to be Javier's last birthday before he got married in a few months, his parents had decided to go all out.

And Lance had promised he wouldn't miss it.

Again, oops.

"Sorry, dad. I'll be right there. I had a lot on my mind. You know, school and stuff like that." Which was true, but an excuse that wouldn't hold up very well under the disappointed gaze of his father and the wrath of his mother. The only thing he could do now to try and fix it would be to show up, even if he was late.

"Okay, just be careful." Lance rolled his eyes. His dad was the biggest worry-wart on the entire planet, maybe only second to Hunk. "Your mother is serving dinner in half an hour."

Lance tried to plan it out in his head. If he headed over now, he'd probably make it, depending on the traffic. Javier lived across town with his fiancé, next to the University they both went to. "Yeah, okay. I'm leaving now."

"Hurry," his dad just said. "And don't get off at the wrong exit this time."

"I won't. See you in a bit."

Lance hung up the phone, closing his eyes against the massive wave of self-disappointment washing over him. Javier was his big brother, and he'd forgotten that the birthday dinner was tonight, his mind too occupied with thoughts of loathing for Keith riding on his and Hunk's coattails for the project due in a couple weeks.

He was such an idiot. It had only been a few days ago that he'd been psyching himself up over this, and then yesterday, when they'd been assigned that project, all thoughts of the dinner had flown from Lance's mind in favor of complaints about Keith.

Lance took a deep breath. None of this was helping. He had to pull himself together, no matter how guilty he felt. If he didn't get there soon, his family was going to get angry (and worried, but mostly angry). He needed to go now.

He grabbed his keys, made sure he had his wallet, and pulled the door open just as the doorbell rang. Lance froze, contempt rushing through his veins as he fought to keep his face neutral. This wasn't actually happening, was it? Never in his life had he thought this person would be standing at his front door.

It was Keith Kogane.