"I hate you."
"You can hate me on the way to Lance's house."
"Or I can hate you here."
Shiro jut his hip out and gave him that look. How Keith hated that look. It was in that look that Shiro summoned his inner suburban mum, and it never failed to make Keith cave in.
"Oh no, don't you dare! Stop that, don't me give the look you fucker!"
Shiro continued to give Keith the look. And, like always, Keith gave in.
"I hate you," he grumbled, "Why does it have to be me?"
"You're the one who stole his jacket, not me."
Keith flushed and glared at the offending piece of clothing that was in Shiro's hand.
"Drunk-Me stole it."
"Drunk-Keith is not a whole separate identity," Shiro snorted, "It's just you when you're drunk, and so my original point stands."
He shoved the jacket into Keith's hands, smiling while watching Keith grumble.
"I hate Rolo," Keith huffed, "It's all his fault. He should be the one doing this."
"You're the one who went to the part he threw, got drunk, and stole your crush's jacket."
Keith went red, looking close to ripping the jacket in two. He couldn't believe Shiro just went there, that was unforgivable.
"I do not have a crush on Lance McClain!"
"Sure you don't buddy," Shiro snorted, "Now go!"
"I can't go!"
"You physically can."
"But he hates me!"
"And this might make him hate you less."
And with that, Shiro picked Keith up, walked outside, put him back down, ran back inside. Oh like hell he's getting away with that, Keith thought as he chased after Shiro. Unfortunately, Shiro beat him and locked the door.
Keith pounded at the door with his fist, demanding, begging to be let back in, but Shiro refused to respond.
"Oh fuck you!"
With one last kick to the door (that hurt way more than Keith was going to ever admit) he gave up and began stalking off towards Lance's house, all the whole grumbling under his breath.
Fucking Shiro, he thought, didn't even let me grab my keys for Red. Now I have to walk all the fucking way to Lance's, just great. As if this couldn't get any worse!
But despite Keith's complaints, it didn't even take that long to get to Lance's. In fact, he got there way too quickly and regretting walking so fast when he was face to face with Lance's door. Suddenly, he was nervous and wanted to run back home and wait until Shiro caved in or just move to another country.
But he had the fucking jacket, and he knew that if he didn't give it back now, he probably never would.
He sighed and glared at the door. He hated this. Hated how much he liked the guy who hated him. He hated how not matter what he seemed to do, Lance would take it in a bad way and only hate Keith more. He hated how Lance would never like him back.
But the jacket.
Maybe, he thought hopefully, one of Lance's other family members would open the door so he could shove the jacket in their hands without having to ever look at Lance. It was nothing more than an unlikely wish, but it gave him enough confidence to knock the door.
The person who answered was neither Lance or one of his family members.
"Lotor," he hissed.
What the fuck was that asshole doing there? Last time he checked, Lance was creeped out by the guy- but alcohol could change that. Keith stomach turned as Lotor smirked down at him, looking annoyingly perfect with his long, immaculate hair and slim yet muscled figure.
"Well well well, who do we have here? If it isn't the guy who was literally drooling after Lance last night!"
"I-I did not drool, you asshat!" Keith snapped.
God he hated Lotor. That guy had perfected the art of pissing Keith off, and was nothing but bad news. What he he done with- no, to Lance?
"Sure you weren't," he snickered.
Keith grit his teeth and tightened his grip on the jacket.
"Where's Lance?"
"Sleeping. He had a long, rough night," Lotor grinned, "As did I."
Keith tried not to let that get to him, but just the thought of Lotor putting his hands on Lance (who was no doubt drunk out of his mind) made him ready to snap that guy's neck.
But then, there came a loud, annoyed groan from someone in the house, and someone began walking down the stairs. Lotor just smirked and began walking away.
"Guess he's awake. Tell him breakfast will be ready soon."
"Got to hell," Keith spat out.
"Only if you meet me there," he cackled.
And then he was gone, and a minute or so later, he was replaced by someone else. And wow, Keith was not ready for that.
It was Lance, but fuck, somehow he got even cuter. His hair was in cute curls which framed his face perfectly, and freckles covered his nose, cheeks and even went down to his arms and legs. Those arms and legs that were shown off by the large shirt he wore that slipped off his shoulder, revealing his neck and prominent collar bones, and his boxer which let his shapely, long legs be free.
Keith wanted to count every single one of those freckles and run his fingers through those curls, and pull Lance closer, close enough to see every individual freckle, close enough to smell the lip balm that Lance used to keep his full lips looking so soft and kissable-
He shook his head, and tried to relax. He was not going to survive this. The only thing keeping him grounded were the horrid hickeys on Lance's neck, proving that Lotor had been with him. Keith was so telling Allura and the others so they could all give him hell. Well, more than usual. They loved giving Lotir hell regardless of what he had or hadn't done.
"Keith?" Lance slurred.
He looked and sounded half asleep, and Keith fought back the urge to usher Lance back up to bed.
"Your hair looks nice!" Keith blurted out. "And you're freckles too."
He immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, and silently died inside. Smooth, real smooth, he thought bitterly. Bet Lance is totally going to swoon over your yelled compliment. Not.
Lance didn't swoon. He just frowned.
"Don't be a dick," he grumbled, "I just woke up. 'Aven't sorted them out yet."
God did Keith want to tear his hair out around Lance. And then grab Lance and kiss him to hopefully make him see that he fucking liked him.
"I'm not being a dick, it's genuine compliment."
"...I look shit like this."
"You don't."
"I-"
"Shut up and take the fucking compliment! And the fucking jacket!"
He shoved the jacket in Lance's hand, and prepared to leave.
"Keith! Wait!" Lance said while grabbing Keith's shoulder.
Keith paused, took a deep breath and turned back around, desperately trying to avoid looking at Lance's legs. They were so hard to ignore though...
"Yeah?"
"Do you know who I left with last night? I can't remember a thing, but I think they're still here."
"Lotor."
Lance's jaw dropped and he looked horrified.
"L-Lotor? Ah shit," he hissed, "Okay, listen, I literally do anything for you, absolutely anything, if you go in there and distract him long enough for me to grab some clothes and ditch this place."
"It's your house," Keith pointed, "Why can't you just tell him to leave?"
"Because he's Lotor, and I apparently had drunk sex with him and need to get the fuck away from him."
He looked desperate, and Keith didn't blame him. It must be a terrifying situation for him to have to deal with so early in the morning, when he was also probably dealing with a hangover and... other aches and pains.
That offer stuck in Keith's mind though. Absolutely anything...
"A date."
Lance looked as confused and flustered as Keith felt. Why had he blurted that out? Of all the things he could ask for, he went with that?! Why a date? Was he that hopeless in love? Yes, a part of him said, yes you are. He ignored that part.
"...We'll talk about that later," Lance decided, "For now, go in there and raise hell."
Keith mused on how this was the first time anyone was encouraging him to stir shit up, and was grateful he had the opportunity. Nothing like kicking Lotor's ass early in the morning, especially after knowing what hell he was making Lance go through.
So Keith stormed into the house and into the kitchen, where Lotor was still making breakfast for Lance.
"Hey fuckface," Keith yelled.
That lead to what felt like a five second fist fight to Keith, although it probably lasted longer. And it did, as he saw Lance sneak down the stairs and out the door, while trying to put his clothes on. So with one more punch, Keith ran after Lance.
He was now dressed in some shorts, sandals and a shirt with some 80s cartoon on it, but his hair was still curly and his freckles were still visible. Keith both thanked and cursed the gods for giving him the opportunity to see natural Lance.
And Lance didn't seem too pleased about Keith's method of distracting Lotor, but chose not to comment. Keith was thankful because honestly he wasn't in the mood to fight with Lance. He never was, yet that guy seemed amazing at pushing all his buttons.
"Think I can hide out at your place for a while?" Lance asked. "Family all went on holiday, Hunk is no doubt with Shay, and I'd rather stab myself than try to wake up Pidge or Matt."
"I guess Shiro wouldn't mind if you stuck around for a while," Keith tried to say casually, "But wait, your family left you behind?"
"No, I chose to hang around here. They wanted to freeze their asses off in Greenland, and no amount of pretty lights could convince me to go."
"I thought you loved snow?"
"In moderation," Lance snorted.
They fell silent again, and Keith wondered if this was the longest time they had gone without fighting. No, he thought, they'd once managed to watch the whole of Les Miserable of without fighting, and that was way too long of a film.
"...So, about the date."
Keith groaned loudly, and wondered if he could get hit by a car and avoid this hell.
"Yeah?"
"Why dude?"
How Keith hated that word 'why?'. It never made for a good question. So he shrugged and looked away, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
"A shrug isn't an answer, Kogane," Lance snapped, "Seriously, you don't even like me, so why-"
"I do like you, you fucking idiot!"
Lance abruptly stopped walking, and frowned at Keith.
"Then why do you always fight with me?"
"Because you always start it, and you're really good at pissing me off!" Keith snapped. But then, he took a deep breath and tried to relax. "I do like you, honestly. You're my... friend, after all. And the better question is, why do you always fight with me?"
Lance looked away, biting his lip. He shoulders were tense and he honestly looked ready to bolt, but he didn't move.
"Because... because you're always picked first, for everything. Even if you're not the right choice, you're picked first and I'm always left in second place. The only time I ever seem to get anywhere in life is when you fuck up enough that they need a replacement," he spat, "And because we were literally in the same classes for the whole of freshman year and definitely did talk, and yet you can't fucking remember me at all! That really fucks up a guy you know, knowing that-"
Keith didn't let him finish. He pulled Lance into a tight hug, the guilt building up inside of him. Lance froze, then dug his nails into Keith's back as he held on tightly and sobbed.
Suddenly, everything made a lot more sense. No wonder Lance was so angry with him and so ready to fight! He was right after all, Keith was always picked first, even though he got angry and gave up too quickly. Even when Lance was clearly the better choice (to Keith, Lance was always the better choice), people still felt reluctant to pick him. They thought him too flirty and silly to take control or have any responsibility, even though Keith knew that Lance was fully capable of being serious.
And had they really been in the same class for the whole of freshman year? Keith vaguely remembered a pretty boy who sat behind him during class, who Keith aggressively ignored as he was going through a sexuality crisis, but had that really been Lance? The boy who shyly told him that his handwriting was nice, and hide a Valentine's card in Keith's locker (which Keith had initially chucked away, only to run back and search for it a second later). Wait, did... did Lance have a crush on Keith back then?
Oh shit. That just made Keith feel worse.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered.
"I-It's not your-"
"Shut up, you curly-haired genius."
Lance laughed, and Keith felt his heart flutter. That was what he wanted to make Lance do; laugh and smile. It was what Lance deserved.
"Fuck off mullet," Lance said, but there was no fire behind his words.
"...You know, I do think I remember you from freshman year. You're the one who used to leave little notes on my desk with compliments written on them, aren't you? The one who gave me that really nice homemade Valentine's day card? I still have that card somewhere I think."
Lance froze, and pulled away enough so he could face Keith. Tears were pouring down his face, and his eyes were wide. Keith didn't think twice about wiping away those tears; he'd come this far, why stop now?
"Y-You remember?"
"Think I'd forget my first crush?"
Lance's gasp had Keith's heart thumping even faster, and made him forget that they were standing there in the middle of the street at nine in the morning.
"F-First crush?"
Keith nodded, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. It was now or never.
"And my current crush."
It was silent, and he wondered if he had misread the situation, when a pair of hands cupped his hand and a pair of lips met his. And god, were those the nicest lips he'd ever kissed. They felt as soft and smooth and full as they looked, and tasted of peaches.
Holy shit, he thought, I'm kissing Lance McClain. And Lance McClain was a damn good kisser. If Keith died now, he would die the happiest man alive.
Keith gasped and grabbed Lance's hips as hid lips received a gentle bite, and tried to pull Lance even closer. He felt lightheaded and was sure this had to be a dream. Well, if this is a dream, then I'm going all the way, he decided.
His hands slid down to Lance's ass and shameless groped it like he had wanted to do a thousand times before. Lance broke the kiss to groan loudly and fuck, Keith was going to have that sound echoing in his head for the rest of the day.
"K-Keith!" Lance stuttered.
Keith just grinned lazily at him, and stole another kiss, hands not moving an inch. He had spent months dreaming about grabbing that ass, so like hell was he going to let go of it now.
He grumbled when Lance pulled back and chased after Lance's lips. But when Lance leaned further back, he gave up and just took Lance in.
His eyes were wide, his face flushed, lips wet, and his breathing was heavy. He looked better than Keith could have ever imagined.
"Maybe," Lance began, "We should get out of the street?"
Lance sounded breathless and worked up, and Keith was proud to say that he caused that for once.
"Yeah, that's a probably a good idea."
"Think Shiro will be home?"
"He's probably gone to work."
"So your house is empty?"
Lance licked his lips, and Keith finally caught onto just what Lance was asking. Oh. Oh god, he was not going to survive this.
"Y-Yeah," he answered in a high pitched voice.
"Good," Lance purred.
Keith didn't even hesitate. He picked Lance up by his ass and ran all the way home, Lance's happy laughter filling his ears.
And later that day, when they were eating pizza and watching some bad film on his bed, Keith could proudly say that he had kissed every single one of those freckles and ran his fingers through Lance's curls so many times that he was surprised his hand hadn't got stuck there.