A/N: Hello~ It is I, Q. I know, I know, what the hell am I doing in Voltron of all places, can't I make up my damn mind?
Well you see, my partner Blaine has pulled me head first into this fandom and this is a little something we've been writing together. It's only going to be 20 chapters long, but it should be a wild ride from start to finish.
I do hope you all enjoy!
With a loud yell, Lance lunged forward and hooked a hand around a support beam.
The whole building groaned, as if in pain, and listed dramatically to the side. Everything in the room started shifting towards the blown out windows, falling down the many stories to the unforgiving ground below. Eyes flying around the scene, Lance watched as the remainder of the goons they'd been fighting slid past him, each falling to their respective deaths with long, drawn-out screams of terror. A momentary flash of guilt flew through him at their gruesome ends, but it was quickly replaced by the sense that justice had finally been met out.
They fired first, after all.
As the building continued to lean, Lance let out a yell as his grip almost slipped before he managed to catch himself. Turning his head sharply, the brunet cried out, "Get fucked!" Expression turning to a grimace, the brunet said, "Now all we have to do is-" Then he stopped, because he suddenly was forced to realize that something was horribly wrong. "T-Tanner? TANNER!"
Across the room, Keith's nails scrabbled against the semi-rotten shelving unit that had previously been bolted down to the floor, the sudden shift in gravity yanking it from its home. His grip was slipping. Cold panic was slicing through his veins as he fought for purchase, managing to pull himself up a few inches, before the building lurched once more and he was thrown down to the next shelf.
No...not like this.
He heard the screams of the men they had fought, lives ended in a matter of seconds, their existence snuffed out by the karma they had incurred. Accompanying those thoughts was the certainty that before long, he would join them.
Turning horror filled eyes upwards, the noirette caught sight of his partner, his friend. "AARON!" Those blue eyes shot to his. Momentarily, relief at seeing the man alive and relatively unharmed warmed his limbs, gave him extra strength. But it didn't last, for he saw that the brunet was in no better shape than him, his balance off kilter as he attempted to keep a hold on the beam. "A-Aaron, go back!"
"TANNER, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" Getting a better hold on his beam, Lance stared down at Keith, who was quickly slipping towards the yawning void below. Desperation setting in, Lance wildly snagged onto a sliding desk so he could leap to the next support beam. As this one groaned under his weight as well, the brunet reached out to Keith, his eyes wide, wild.
"What the hell man, you can't just tell me to leave," Lance said, incredulously. "I don't work like that. We don't work like that." But even as he spoke, Keith slipped further, the cheap particle board crumbling under his fingers. Before Lance could do anything, the man slipped, and with a yell, he fell towards the window. For a moment, Lance was terrified that he'd lost his closest friend forever, but then one of Keith's hands managed to flail out and snag a loose beam. All this did, however, was prolong the inevitable.
"Fuck-!" With a shout, Lance slid down the sloped carpet floor, rocketing towards Keith. Catching a sturdy, low wall with a hand, the brunet reached out desperately, even though he was still too far away to reach the noirette. "Don't let go, buddy," Lance all but begged, his eyes scanning their crumbling surroundings for any safe way out. "C'mon, we- we're gonna get out of this!"
"I'm not gon-!" Keith started to yell back, but his grip slipped again. His hands were so tired. After the firefight, the exchange of blows from earlier, and the pressure of holding up his own body weight, they were stripped of any strength. He tried to find his grip once more, nails scraping against the wooden beam. But he couldn't swing his arm up enough to grab on. Keith couldn't, it was too much. He was just... so tired. "I'm not gonna let you do this!" he finally managed to yell.
Lance's expression was filled with worry, fear, an underlying shade of doubt, and so, so much determination. Keith knew that his partner wouldn't leave him, not after everything they'd been through. "You...Aaron, please, I won't let you sacrifice yourself for me!" He felt tears of pain well in his eyes. Keith's heart hurt, hurt for what could have been, what he couldn't achieve. "Just...go!"
The brunet shook his head, and he slid down the wall until he was just mere feet from Keith, close enough to touch. The blue of his eyes was so bright, the sunset on the other side of the broken building glinting off of them. Please, god, let him not be stubborn about this!
As the building lurched once and finally settled, Keith's fingers slipped for the last time. With eyes that stared back into Lance's with an undying resolution, defying the end he was allowing to become his own, Keith fell backwards towards the broken window pane. Heart lurching, like it wasn't just Keith falling but Lance's innards plummeting with him, the brunet let out one last wild yell and lunged forward, all thoughts for his own safety forgotten. All that mattered was Keith, all he could think about was saving this man he'd gone through hell with.
Just as Keith's hand slipped past the building's limits, Lance's fingers tightened around one pale wrist. Body screaming under the sudden strain of holding up himself and Keith, Lance struggled to pull the noirette up only to let out a yell of pain. It was no use, he couldn't get enough leverage to pull Keith to safety. All he could do was dangle the man over what was sure to be a deadly drop and pray his hand didn't slip.
"I'm not leaving you," Lance panted, his eyes starting to well with unshed tears. Why hadn't he ever thought about how much Keith meant to him until this moment, why did he have to wait until the very end to understand just how big of an impact the devilish noirette had had on his life. They'd once been nothing but rogues, with no one to answer to and nothing to fear. Now, when Lance most needed to be strong, to see a hopeless situation for what it was, he found he cared too damn much.
"Tanner, you're not dying unless I damn well say you can, you hear me!" Lance snapped, his high emotions getting the better of him. "You are going to be fine!"
Lance's grip hurt, his fingernails pressed into the flesh of Keith's wrist. The noirette held onto Lance's wrist as well, his feet dangling in the open air. Glass shattered beneath them, and Keith could feel his heart breaking just like those spears of translucent material. "You can't dictate who lives and dies!" Keith roared, his free hand aching to reach forward for Lance, but his heart knowing it would just cause both of their deaths.
From below the both of them, a wind picked up and raven locks fluttered in the breeze, stinging at his eyes. He tried for a smile, but it wasn't enough. He didn't have enough faith, enough hope, to show Lance just how much Keith really cared. "You have to live, Aaron!"
The brunet opened his mouth to counter, but Keith wouldn't let him. He couldn't stand for Lance to disagree with him. "No!" His voice cracked, his fear tainting what he wished would have been a confident statement. "Aaron, you can't save me! Marina needs you! She's waiting for you!" I need you, but I can't have you... "She's too important to this mission for you to waste your life on me! Go, Aaron, please!"
"I can't leave you." Lance's control over his own vocal chords shattered as he felt the tears prick at his eyes, slowly slipping down over his cheeks. Allura was waiting for him, if he didn't save her, they'd never be able to stop this disaster from happening, but Keith's hand was slipping, and it felt like Lance's own will to go on was slipping with him. "You don't get it Tanner, you aren't just my friend, you're- You're the other piece of me. You're everything, we're partners in this and guess what, that means I can't just-"
Another desk crashed by them and Lance had to swing Keith alarmingly to avoid the careening amalgamation of bullet riddled sheet metal and particleboard. All this did was weaken the grip he had on Keith's arm, and Lance knew he wouldn't have long if he didn't think of something quick. This would be the end of Keith, he'd have to watch his friend die, despite his best efforts to save him.
Letting out a broken string of curses, Lance pushed out, "Why the hell does it have to be you or her, Tanner? Why can't I save both of you, huh?" The question was so desperate, but so was the brunet, and he couldn't stop himself. You know why it can't be both, his brain reminded him, as the maw of death gaped open beneath him. It's because you can escape on your own, but you can't get Keith to safety as well. Not with the state this building is in.
But that meant intentionally letting go, and Lance couldn't.
Keith shook his head. No. NO! He wouldn't let Lance do this. He couldn't. If Lance wouldn't let go on his own, Keith would do it for him. "It doesn't work that way, Aaron! You know it!" His eyes burned with the dust and debris, the tears raining down his cheeks sending tracks through the layer of dirt and grime that had accumulated today. Keith loosened his grip, his fingers snagging in the loose fabric of Lance's ripped sleeve. The brunet's hand slipped, until their palms were clasped together.
Keith could feel the warmth of their connection. It had always been there, but it had only become this strong recently. Keith didn't want to let go; he hated the thought of dying and leaving Lance alone, the thought of not being able to finish the mission they had set out on together. They'd made it this far. They could make it one more day…
But that was a pipe dream. They both knew that it wouldn't have lasted, not when they had the Monarchy on their tail. It had only been a matter of time.
"Let go, Aaron! Go to Marina!" Keith shook his head again, smiling sadly up at his partner, his friend, this person that would never be his. "You can't save us both! She's more important, and you know it!"
Lance could feel Keith's heart die with those words, watch as the man broke down completely. Gave up. As the whole world stood still, allowing them just this moment, one last second they could spend together, Lance watched as one of his own tears smacked against Keith's plaster covered forehead. "Marina isn't-" The brunet choked and he stopped speaking. She was important, in more ways than one. Hell, Lance was pretty sure he was in love with Allura, but she wasn't Keith.
And no matter what her importance, she'd always be a piss-poor replacement for him.
"Marina isn't you, Tanner," Lance murmured, his eyes fluttering closed as the strain on his body caused a wave of agony to crash over him. The wind that kept whipping past them both stole the words away however, and the brunet knew that he had to make a decision. This couldn't last forever.
Eyes fluttering open so he could stare upward, as if that could hold back the unrelenting sorrow crashing through him, Lance saw something that made his brain grind to a halt. With Keith's life on the line, he'd been distracted, but when he looked over the wreckage, Lance realized that all the desks, chairs, and shelves had created an escape route. A way out of this death trap.
It wasn't guaranteed, but it was the best they were going to get.
Filled with a swell of determination, one that pushed the hopelessness from his mind, Lance felt a signature smirk spread over his lips, Through the tears still shining on his face, the brunet let out a laugh. When Keith stared at him in confusion, Lance announced, "You think I can't save you both, but are you willing to bet on that?"
"Cut!"
There was a ringing sound, a smack of what sounded like paper against a palm, and the light that had been previously dimmed flashing brighter. They stung Keith's eyes a little. You've got to be fucking kidding me, Keith's mind groaned as Lance let go of him, sending him the couple of feet down to smack ass first into the foam at the floor beneath them.
Letting out a frustrated, tired groan, Keith thumped his head back against the green surface. There were bits of fake debris around, a few prop bullet casings under his limbs, but Keith's mind was elsewhere. Goddammit, I'm so hungry. How long have we been at this? I wonder what lunch was supposed to be. How many times have we redone this scene?
"Lance, c'mon! You're not supposed to be flat out crying!"
Shiro's voice cut through Keith's hunger filled haze of scattered thoughts and fragmented statements. He didn't even feel like looking over at their director, already knowing that the man would have stress lines creasing his brow.
"And Keith!" Coran was next of course, his acting coach never far behind Shiro, his accented voice slipping amidst the noirette's thoughts to mix into some weird form of self narration that was borderline comical. "You must do it with more feeling!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Coran roughly pump his fist up and into the air with enough force to drive his point across.
"I was," Keith grumbled, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. They actually did have dirt in them, probably from Lance's shoes or the myriad of props that had been brought in from outside, so that they looked more weathered. So, at least those tears had been real.
"NO! That was lackluster at best!" Coran repeated the movement of his fist, twitching his ginger mustache excitedly. "With more feeling!"
From his place at the head of the camera crew, Matt slipped over to Coran and Shiro. "Coran," he began, his eyebrows raised. "It looks like you're fisting someone." From where they were working, Pidge, another tech director and Matt's sibling, rolled their eyes expressively, scoffing at their brother's comment. Shiro, on the other hand, choked and turned beetroot red, his eyes wide and full of suppressed laughter.
Grinning from ear to ear, Matt leaned closer to Shiro and muttered, "You liked that one, didn't you."
"If I recall correctly, you were the one who was enjoying it last night," Shiro murmured back. With a shout, Pidge slapped their hands over their ears and toppled backwards over an unused prop.
"To answer your comment Matt," Coran said, not missing a beat. "Sometimes you just need to take that advice and really shove it up in there."
Ignoring his director and the other various stage crew members, Lance released a sigh and let go of the foam pillar, sliding only a couple of inches as the stage tech crew returned the alarming tilt of the fake building floor to a more level angle. As it was lowered back to the ground with a hydraulic hiss, the brunet dragged a hand up to his face to blot away some of the tears marring his cheeks.
"C'mon guys, do we really have to run this again?" The young actor didn't like complaining, but they'd run this individual scene at least eight times today, and that wasn't even counting all the times they'd run it the day before. "It's three in the afternoon; haven't we managed at least one take that's good enough for you guys?"
"Well, maybe if you'd stop bawling like a baby and Keith would stop acting like he's friggin made of stone, we'd be able to get somewhere," Matt called back, a lilt of laughter still in his voice from his sibling's outburst.
From where he lay, still seemingly glued to the foam beneath him, Keith sighed. "Not my fault I'm starving." Lance looked down at him from his perch on the raised stage, an eyebrow quirked as he continued to wipe away an alarming amount of real tears. "We've been at this since 8 in the morning, we skipped breakfast, and lunch; do you know what that does to someone?"
"Oh, posh!" Keith rolled his eyes at Coran's way of speaking, something he would really never get used to, even in the five years that he'd worked with the man. "As an actor, you must be able to push aside your own feelings for the greater good!" The ginger man made a big show of rotating with a flourish, before bowing with far too much flexibility. "You must sell it, and being hungry is no excuse for poor acting!"
"Yeah, yeah, sure." The noirette knew, realistically, that Coran was right, and that he was making a fair bit of sense, a very valid point, but still. I need food. Pushing himself from the foam, stumbling at the unbalanced surface, he straightened his costume and made his way over to the break table, where there should have been snacks, but so far, none had appeared. "Imma make some cup noodles."
"Look, I'm doing my best here," Lance griped, planting his hands on his hips and thrusting his nose into the air. "This idiot over here," he gestured in the vague direction of Keith, who'd wandered off in search of something. "Is impossible to work with! How am I supposed to act off of his cues if he gives me none! Every line is just-" Lance dragged a hand through his perfectly sculpted hair so he could pull it out over his forehead in an imitation of Keith's mullet. "No Aaron, you must save yourself. How does he even managed to sound that unenthusiastic?!"
"Lance-" Shiro began, massaging his temple with a hand. "Can we please focus on your mistakes right now, lets not pick apart Keith. There will be plenty of time to work with-"
"No! C'mon, Shiro, you told me to deliver those lines with feeling and I did," Lance protested. "Keith has no-"
"Both of you two are competent actors that were given the parts you were given for good reason," Shiro stated, talking over Lance and quelling some of his irrational irritation. "I thought that you two would be able to get along, but it's like the two of you have the antithesis of chemistry on screen."
"Well maybe," Lance began. "You shouldn't have cast one of us."
Shiro's expression remained thoroughly unimpressed. "And maybe you two could work harder at getting along off camera so your interactions felt more natural when on screen."
Lance threw his arms up in the air, exasperated. Jumping off the set, the brunet complained, "As if? Look at Keith, he's such a fricken killjoy at all the parties we attend together!"
"You two don't go to parties together," Pidge pointed out, lifting a finger.
"You know what I mean!" Lance exclaimed, waving his hands. "He's such a killjoy when we go out to eat-"
"You don't do that either, Lance," Shiro reminded him, furrowing his brows. "Which is part of the problem."
"Yeah, but at lunch!" the brunet insisted, rolling his eyes. "He's a complete killjoy." Glancing over at Keith, who had somehow dug up a cup of instant noodles and was now shoveling them into his mouth, Lance said, "See? Kill-" He gestured at Keith's mildly confused face before pointing his hand at the rest of him. "Joy!"
Having finally gotten some food into his stomach, Keith was able to blink slightly less glazed over cesious eyes at Lance, who seemed to be ranting enthusiastically about something. In all honesty, and Keith was always honest when it came to his irritation with the brunet, the noirette tended to start to zone out once Lance started talking. It wasn't that he was trying to, it's just that the man had no sense of when a story was boring or not, and just...kept...talking.
So, as Lance powerfully thrusted a hand towards Keith's lower half, the noirette raised an eyebrow and said, around a mouthful of noodles, "Why are you pointing at my crotch? Can I help you with something?"
Pidge, who had seemed to calm down slightly from Matt and Shiro's exchange earlier, choked on the water they were currently taking a sip of, liquid rocketing from their nose as they fell to the floor in a fit of guffaws. Lance, who retracted his hand, sputtered as if he had no idea what to say in response.
Swallowing the mouthful, the noirette chugged the last bit of broth that was in the bottom of the Styrofoam cup. He wiped his mouth off on his sleeve, and Keith turned back to Lance and said, "No, really, what was that about? I'm sorry, I don't pay attention when you talk."
From the floor, Pidge slammed a fist into the concrete, and Shiro only rubbed the bridge of his nose. What the hell is wrong with these people.
"I was not pointing at your crotch," Lance instantly protested. Rounding on Keith, the brunet insisted, "I was pointing in your general direction and that just happened to be-" Keith raised an eyebrow and Lance changed tactics. "AND WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T LISTEN TO ME! I LISTEN TO YOU!"
Frustrated, the man crossed his arms and pulled a slight pout. Shiro'st sighing drew his attention however and he turned back to face the director. "I can't work with him, Shiro," Lance said weakly, waving at Keith vaguely. "He's... Keith."
Tossing the empty cup into the nearby trash, Keith smirked and muttered, "Great observation there, genius." He was already feeling better, to the point that he could probably do the scene another couple of times and be totally fine. Ah, the wonders that food did. "Are we gonna keep doin' this or are we done for the day?" he asked Shiro, completely ignoring the brunet in favor of questioning their director, who seemed about ready to throw in the towel on the whole project. Not that he would; no, everyone there knew that this was supposed to be this studio's big break, and they'd never give up on it.
Letting out a pitiful whimper, Lance muttered, "At least Allura is actually willing to talk to me." When Keith continued to ignore him, the brunet sighed. Honestly, he didn't hate Keith, despite usually being in direct competition with him for rolls in movies. He should have been using this opportunity to get to know the man, it was such a perfect chance to do so. Getting up close and personal with someone as busy as Keith Kogane when you had a schedule like Lance usually did wasn't easy.
And yet now that he had the chance, the two of them couldn't be in the same room without either bickering or blatantly ignoring each other.
Slouching in his chair, pulling a tired face, Shiro glanced over at Keith. "Yeah, I want you two to run it again. I know that Lance isn't doing perfectly-"
"HEY!" the brunet protested loudly.
"-But," Shiro continued, pointedly ignoring Lance. "I really need you to focus on this. You were doing slightly better yesterday, but it's still been pretty flat. You're about to die, everything is riding on this moment, and you're delivering the lines like it's a chore." Rubbing his face, Shiro muttered, "The next month is pretty much just going to be the two of you running scenes, I need you to tap into your character's motivations, otherwise, it's not gonna work."
"Kinda hard when you're literally depriving me of food, Shiro," Keith grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "You seem to forget that this isn't the only thing I have to do. Not only do I have to run these lines and this scene every single day, I've also got training, and interviews, and dealing with my own personal shit. Some people need to eat!"
Keith knew he was taking the whole being-hella-hungry- thing a bit far, but what else did Shiro expect him to do? Glancing over at the brunet, who was mumbling to himself, probably ranting some more, the actor said, "Not everyone has as much free time as certain people, who seem to be free enough to flirt with every female in the immediate distance." He pulled up the volume of his words at the end, intent on making sure that Lance could hear him.
That...was a bit mean, but really, Lance had probably hit on every...single...girl on the set at least once, and he seemed to have time to strut around town, taking pictures with fans, updating all of his social media. Meanwhile, Keith was busting his ass trying to get deals, finish interviews, practicing his lines every waking moment, and keeping his body in shape so he could do these kinds of scenes, where he was hanging from ledges and shit.
It wasn't that he disliked Lance, quite the contrary. The guy was a fantastic actor, able to meld with whatever role he was playing, but did he have to be so flippant about everything? Keith would just never understand.
He just wasn't that kind of person.
Shiro didn't answer for a moment, probably mulling over what Keith had said. The noirette carded a hand through his hair, and he could practically hear their hairdresser, Romelle, hissing somewhere. She'd spent an hour on his hair that morning, and had spent at least ten minutes between takes fixing it. "Just...fine. I'll try harder, just. Let me eat for god's sake."
"Careful Keith," Lance called snidely, even though he couldn't take his eyes off the way the man ran his fingers through his hair. "Wouldn't wanna ruin your girlish figure." That was mean, but fucking come on, he didn't flirt with everyone, he just appreciated the girls he was working with, and found them attractive, and maybeeee... Okay, fine, he had a point, but Lance wasn't going to give in on this one.
Keith turned slowly towards the brunet, who seemed rather proud of himself. "Pardon?"
"You heard me," Lance responded, planting a hand on his hip. "Gotta be careful about those cups of ramen noodles, they go right to your hips."
And what a pair of hips they are...
It... had been a long day.
Ok. He had a point, and it wasn't like Keith made a habit of eating junk. He was rather conscientious about his diet, his calorie intake, all of it. But still.
Stepping forward, Keith pointed a finger in Lance's direction, eyes narrowing in a glare. "Ok, listen here you little shit..."
"Oh, boy, here it comes," Matt whispered behind a hand, leaning towards his husband, Shiro's face already falling at the incoming snark fest.
"I am ready for this," Pidge giggled, rising on their toes to peer over a cart of wires and things.
"If my hips are so fascinating, why don't you actually catch me next time instead of letting me drop because you might break a nail."
"You shut your whore mouth!" Lance shot back, getting up in Keith's face. "I am not about to break a nail just to save your sorry ass!" Giving the man a derisive once over, Lance muttered, "Y'know, if you actually had an ass to save."
"IT WAS PART OF THE SCENE YOU DIPSHIT!" Keith shot back, grabbing onto the front of Lance's shirt. "And I will have you know, I think my ass is perfect, and apparently, you can't stop fucking staring at it, so what does that make you?"
Catching the front of Keith's artfully dirtied vest, Lance announced, "A proud bisexual and FUCK YOU!"
"YOU CAN'T SEEM TO STOP STARING AT ME, SO WHY DONCHA!?" Their foreheads were practically pressed together at this point, and Keith could vaguely hear Pidge choking in the background.
If you keep talking to me like that, I just might. Wait, no, scratch that last thought, Lance had absolutely no interest in his costar. "Well maybe if you weren't such an asshat, I wouldn't find myself staring so much!" Lance fired back, feeling Keith's hair tickling his face. "But you seem to have issues with being a massive dick, so I guess I'm gonna have to keep staring."
"And you seem to have issues getting off of my dick, so instead of staring, why don't you fucking DO SOMETHING, MOTHERFUCKER!"
"OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH!" Shiro's voice boomed through the studio, and both of them jumped. Keith blinked rapidly, but his hand seemed to refuse to let go of Lance's shirt. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was still feeling anger seethe through his veins, or maybe it was because Lance hadn't let go of him yet either.
But more likely, it had to do with the fact that Lance smelled surprisingly good and Keith didn't really feel like stepping out of the bubble.
Lance desperately wanted to retort, he wanted to fire back any number of insults, but they died on his lips when Shiro yelled at them. Freezing, the brunet pulled back slowly so he could face the director, unwilling to just let go of Keith. Speaking of Keith... his attention on Shiro began to wander back to Keith as he looked at the man. His slightly smudged makeup and the way he ran his tongue over his lips, waiting for Shiro to speak…
BEGONE GAY THOUGHTS! Lance told himself, wrenching his eyes away from Keith. Just to solidify this in his mind, the brunet pushed Keith away, finally releasing his vest and watching as the noirette dragged a hand through his hair, clearly still as irritated as Lance.
"Alright, you two," Shiro began, running a hand through his own hair. "This ends now. I get it, you two are unable to be in the same room without getting into a shouting match, but I'm not putting up with it on set any longer. Hell, I'm not letting it happen anywhere." When Lance let out a startled sound and Keith crossed his arms, the director nodded, his face set. "You heard me right, you two are costars and I need good chemistry between you. Which means no more infighting. I want you two to spend time together until you work out your shit because this-" he gestured between the two of them. "This can't continue."
"That's not entirely fa-"
"I don't care if it's fair or not!" Shiro broke in, cutting Keith off. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the scarred director murmured, "Look! This movie is our last chance. We cannot let it flop. And if the both of you don't start shaping the hell up, I'll have to go to more drastic measures."
Keith huffed. Realistically, he knew that Shiro was right. They needed this film to be a success. He sort of wanted to ask what sort of "drastic measures" Shiro had in mind, but knowing the man, he'd probably make them room together or something. Yeaaaaah, how about we don't? Working with Lance was bad enough. The noirette would probably lose it if he had to live with the man. "Fine." Anything to get out of living with Lance. Not that that was actually gonna happen, but now that it was in his head, Keith couldn't stop thinking about it. "How do you propose we fix this issue then, wise leader?"
Shiro opened his mouth only for Coran to break his silence to cut across him. "I think that if the two of you want to start getting along, you're going to need to spend quality time together."
Oh, like that can't be taken the wrong way, Lance thought, coloring slightly as his mind wandered.
"Yeah," Shiro agreed, a bit miffed at having his monologue cut off. "Maybe go out to eat together? Spend some time running your lines in private?" Shaking his head, the man said, "I've dealt with some rocky relationships between actors before, you two aren't the first and hopefully, this studio will be around long enough for you to not be the last. I know you two can overcome this, you just have to work at it."
"Work at it?" Keith repeated. "With him? Mr. Drama Queen?" He jerked a thumb in Lance's direction, raising an eyebrow in incredulity. "Okay, I know that you're making a point here, Shiro, but how to do you expect us to do that when our schedules don't ever line up anyway?"
If Keith remembered correctly, after they finished shooting for the day, he had an interview with Publix Magazine about his upcoming guest star role in the remake of some 80's cartoon-turned-live-action-show. And then tomorrow he had an all day training session to get ready for the next few scenes they had to film for this movie. And then the next day he had four different appearances with local media and talk shows, including Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, all the while going back and forth for filming.
There was no way they would time for all of that, along with shooting, and for some "quality bonding time". They didn't need a bonding moment. They needed a break from all of this shit.
Without really thinking through what he was saying, Lance offered, "I can work with Keith's schedule." Slipping his hands into his pockets, the brunet puffed out his cheeks and said, "Any press for this movie, we might as well do it together, and as for whatever else he has going on, I can work with it." The moment the words were out of his mouth, Lance cursed internally. He didn't want to tie himself to Keith, but at the same time, he knew why Shiro was frustrated, and he didn't blame him.
Before Keith could turn on him and accuse him of being obsessed or some other bullshit, Lance turned towards him and said, "Look, I don't wanna spend time with you either, asshole, but we might as well figure out our shit now. Otherwise, we never will."
Free time is so hard for me to get...what makes anyone think I want to waste it spending time with Lance...? OK, really, it wouldn't be that bad. Before this movie, before they'd become costars, they had actually gotten along okay in the times they'd passed each other or had to appear in the same shows. But do I really wanna let myself get dragged into something like that again? He didn't want a repeat of before, of the last time he got too close to a costar. That had ended painfully for everyone involved.
But could he really risk not doing it, and potentially ruining the film for everyone?
No, he couldn't. They were relying on Lance and Keith to be able to get through this and be able to make this movie a success.
"Yeah, sure. We can try this." Turning to Lance, Keith let out a heavy sigh. "Why don't we try and like...I dunno grab coffee or something later? I should have some time after the interview with Publix, but it might be kinda late."
"Yeah, sorry, coffee that late is not good for my sleep schedule," Lance admitted, crossing his arms. "How about a bar. I'll pay?"
"Oh my god," Pidge hissed to Matt from around Shiro. "They're actually getting along."
"I bet you ten it doesn't last," Matt stage-whispered back.
"Make that twenty and you've got a bet," Pidge returned. "I bet by the end of the week, they'll be fu-"
"YES THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD IDEA!" Shiro encouraged loudly, clapping his hands together. "I can't wait to hear about how friendly you two are becoming."
Yeah, he'd heard what Pidge had been about to say. Yeah, I don't think so... Shiro's clap resounded through the almost silent studio. "That could work."
"Then it's settled!" Shiro stepped forward quickly, clapping a hand on both of their shoulders. "Now, let's get back into it! From the top!"
Keith sighed. Yep, this was gonna be a long night.
A/N: So, whatcha think? I know season eight was a complete disaster that we'd all rather not think about, but hopefully this story can go towards making the hurt a little less raw.
Until next time, tata for now!