*coughs* Ehem. So this is going to be a collection of one-shots, AUs and other short stories between everyone's favourite space team. Feel free to comment a ship/character/prompt thingy you want me to write! This is for fun, so don't take it too seriously. The Ship/Theme will be the title of the chapter, if you were interested. I don't have a particular ship, so ,like, any is open.

- Azume

Klance AU.

Keith put his head in his hands, burrowing his face into the warm red sweater he had only put on because he was cold. It was made of the fluffiest fabric, and was perfect burrowing material, thick and soft. The sweater was long on the arms, and he had tried and failed at rolling up the sleeves, only to feel them slide down again and hang at his fingertips. His head was comfortably nestled in his hands, and although the sweater provided warmth and fluff, it failed to block out the vibrations resounding through the floor and onto his desk, rattling the wooden surface. His pencils rolled to the side, sliding off the smooth desk. His textbook - filled with crumpled pieces of paper and hastily scrawled study notes - managed to crawl past his head too, falling to the ground with a heavy thump. The sound was nothing compared to the loud music blaring violently from the downstairs apartment; The textbook's feeble thump was silent in relation to the earthquake sounding from below.

Keith grit his teeth, irritated and annoyed and drained and tired and fed up. It was 3AM. Keith was trying to study for the physics exam he had tomorrow, and his damn neighbour couldn't wear headphones.

Who plays Shakira at 3 in the morning?

It wasn't even like the music was bad. Heck, Keith loved Shakira, and enjoyed her upbeat style and heavy voice, sprouting exotic lyrics in Spanish. It was just that at 3AM, he had to draw the line. Shakira was great, but not if she was going to distract him from his studies. He had a test tomorrow, and he needed to get his definitions memorised and known off by heart if there was even a minute chance at him attempting to get a B in the exam.

When Keith put his head in his hands (And enveloped himself in his sweater) he had expected to get at least half a moment of quiet, a second of space for him to think and memorise the next equation. But no, his extremely ignorant and loud neighbour - with a fairly good taste in music - had to go and play Shakira. Now Keith could barely hear himself think, and was itching to sing along to the song. He didn't even know which song it was, but the vibrations were rapidly paced, and Shakira's voice was springing Spanish desperately like her life was at risk. She implored her listeners, calling for them to join in, to sing along. All Keith wanted to do was revise and study, but there was no chance of that now.

His textbook was already on the floor, Keith reasoned with himself. He could revise the next day. The day of the test.

He had to get his equations memorised. Keith pushed his dark hair from his eyes, and set his jaw. He pushed himself off from his desk, his revolving chair spiralling towards his bed in a swooping arc. Keith fell onto the soft surface of his mattress, so warm and inviting. But he couldn't sleep now, he had to finish studying, and to do that he had to confront his neighbour.

Keith didn't like confronting people, and tended to turn away from problems instead of facing them head on. The main reason for this was that he always seemed to blame himself - as his rash and hot-headed actions were usually at fault - and internalize his anger. When he was eventually forced to make a decision, or confront somebody, Keith extracted all of the anger out from him, lashing out cruelly at whoever was witnessing it. Keith then turned stone cold, and turned away before the witness could see the guilt written clearly across his face. He never confronted people, because he knew how he'd react. He'd most likely get angry at the neighbour and end up breaking/smashing something.

But Keith had to. It was 3AM, and the music's volume was deafening.

He reluctantly got off his mattress, and grabbed his keys from where they lay at the nightstand next to his bed. Keith couldn't be asked to retrieve his phone from the other side of the room, and proceeded to skip that necessity, pulling on his shoes instead. The music was still blaring mercilessly, and Keith had to physically restrain himself from grabbing his sound cancelling headphones. They were on the other side of the room as well, so it didn't take much internal convincing.

Keith slowly made his way to the door from his room, and into the dark hallway leading out from there, and out of the painted red front door. The apartment complex was small and homely, and the people mainly kept to themselves; it was just as Keith liked it. His neighbour was new, and had brought a new kind of life to the building it had severely lacked before. The new neighbour boomed music throughout the day - luckily Keith liked all the songs he chose - and cooked delicious gourmet foreign dishes on the weekends, wafting the rich smells purposefully up through the thin floors, teasing all of the other college inhabitants who lived on store bought meals for one. Keith walked briskly through the hallway until he reached the narrow staircase, and flew down the steps three at a time. His heartbeat was pounding in his throat, and he was overwhelmed with the frenzied rush that came with knocking on a stranger's door to complain about them blasting your favourite artist's playlist far too loud at 3AM when you are trying to study.

Keith left the staircase a floor down, and easily located the source of the music. Most of the inhabitants surrounding the new one had left, so the hall was completely empty and painstakingly bare. Except it wasn't. The music filled the air, soaking up rich tunes and solid baritones as the melody made its way around the hall. Keith felt himself bouncing on the balls of his feet, drawn to the music like a moth to a flame. He wouldn't be caught dead dancing though, so he just subtly tapped his foot along to the beat as he raised a fist at the door.

Keith knocked once, twice, three times.

There was no reply for a moment, and then the music toned down to a faint hum, and feet could be heard pattering across the wooden floorboards from the other side of the door. Keith stood slightly taller, and blew his hair from his eyes, wondering how he looked. A short, mullet-haired boy wearing an oversized red sweater, skinny black jeans and navy converse staring at a stranger. At 3AM, demanding for his favourite artist's music to be turned off so he could cram last minute for his upcoming test.

When Keith had been expecting an edgy just-adult like himself, he was surprised to see another man of his own age towering above him. Yes, the boy was tall. He was long and lanky, and was wearing comfortably embarrassing pyjamas, consisting of bunny slippers, an anime tank top and checked blue pyjama bottoms. The boy was well toned, and not a bad looker with tanned skin, chocolate brown wide eyes and cropped short brown hair.

"Did y'need anything?" The boy said happily, his face splitting into an easy grin.

Keith took a step backwards, and stared up at his mysterious neighbour. It took him a moment to find his voice, and after a slightly awkward cough, Keith mumbled; "Can you tone it down a bit?"

The boy's face flooded with guilt, and he looked away, rubbing the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry," He said in a rush. "I just couldn't sleep and felt like I needed some cheering up and Shakira always makes me feel good especially when I'm not cooking or anything-"

Keith silenced the boy with a dead stare. "It's 3AM." Keith stated blankly, deadpanning the boy's exclaim of innocent surprise.

"Really?!" The boy said, a gasp evident in his tone. "I'm so sorry!" He averted his eyes to the ground, and his face darkened. The boy turned away from Keith and began to edge his way back into his apartment. "I guess I'll turn it off now." He said quietly, nodding his head in farewell to Keith.

Keith's breath caught in his throat as he heard a familiar riff flowing from the boy's room. The deep bass, the upbeat tune. Keith knew that song like he knew his own soul. He instinctively reached out a hand and gripped the boy's arm, holding him in place and stopping him from closing off the music.

"What-" The boy began nervously, cut off almost immediately by Keith.

Keith shushed the boy, his eyes narrowing as he strained his ears, listening intensely to the riff playing seductively. Shakira's deep voice rung through next, and Keith was certain. It was his favourite song. Ever. The boy was playing his jam.

"Stop." Keith hissed. "Turn it up."

The boy's face beamed, and he dashed into his apartment, returning in the blink of an eye with a heavy electrical speaker. Shakira's Whenever, Wherever rolled out from the speakers, its tantalizing tune carrying out clearly across the hallway. The boy set the speaker on the ground, and fiddled with it, turning various knobs and pressing a series of buttons. The volume increased drastically, and suddenly Shakira was enveloping the hallway, blanketing the air in her tempting tune.

"Come on then, mi amigo!" The boy beamed, spinning away from the speaker and towards Keith, swaying his hips to the song's melodic beat. He danced flawlessly, shamelessly strutting along the hallway in his bunny slippers.

Keith completely forgot about the test, or his textbook, or even the time for that matter. He let himself be caught up in the music, and let the song wrap itself around him. He took the outstretched hand offered towards him, and swirled around with the complete stranger dancing like he had never danced before. He was no longer self-conscious, he was just one with the boy, and one with the music. The boy sang along proudly, his voice silky and rich. Keith joined in, his husky tone harmonizing perfectly with the boy's at the pre-chorus and bridge. When the song ended, Keith was almost disappointed when the boy let go of his hand to turn off the large speaker.

The boy smiled breathily, panting slightly from all the dancing they had just done, his cheeks a soft blossom of red. "Lance." The boy said, introducing himself meekly.

"Keith." Keith replied with a weary smile.

"Well then, Keith." Lance announced, waving his arms around grandly and pointing to his door, where the dull numbers floated straight through Keith's head, and he was unable to process them. "I'm number 247, if you ever want to drop by for another random dance marathon, or stop by for my Spanish cuisine." He grinned widely, his expression open and hopeful.

Keith offered Lance a smile. "I'm just upstairs, at 329." He paused here. "You can come around anytime if you want to Netflix, chill, or study at 3AM."

Lance laughed. "I can't make the 3AM study periods, because I have my spontaneous Shakira binge-listen."

Keith snorted too, reluctantly turning away from Lance and starting the slow walk back up the hallway.

"Adios!" Lance called cheerily as Keith turned away. Keith waved without turning back, and climbed up the stairs to his own apartment.

He felt completely exhausted, but awake at the exact same time.

It was a great feeling.

He felt a smile spread across his face as the floors began to vibrate again, Lance blaring his music only a little quieter than he had before Keith had visited and they'd had their random dance marathon.

Keith wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

He turned on his heel and ran back down the stairs again, unable to resist dancing with Lance at 3AM in the apartment complex hallway. He knew the boy hadn't returned to his room, and was waiting with the speakers for his new dance partner.

Woo! Go ahead and give me ideas! There's more to come! Also I don't own Shakira, or Whenever, Wherever.

- Azume