Disclaimer: We do not own VLD.


Chapter 8: We Had A Bonding Moment


"Alrighty folks," said Lance as he swung his wool scarf over his shoulder, zipped up his jacket, and secured his maroon beanie on top of his head. Hunk and Pidge were lounging on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn between them and a documentary about ancient Greece playing on the laptop. "I am heading out. The play starts at 7:30, so I want to make sure we have time to get all necessary snackage before taking our seats."

"Have fun, Lance," said Pidge, waving at him without taking her eyes off the screen. "Tell Keith that he still needs to give me my headband back."

"Will do." Lance unlocked the door and caught Hunk's eyes. "Night. Don't wait up."

"Probably will anyway," Hunk said, waving to Lance until he stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind him. The moment it clicked shut, Hunk sighed. "'Don't wait up' he says. As if I don't wait up every single time anyway." Hunk could hear Lance's footsteps as he walked down the hall, and it was only when they disappeared completely that he turned back to the documentary that he and Pidge had been watching. Only, Pidge had paused it and was leaning into some pillows on the far side of the couch. "Pidge? Everything okay?"

Her expression only worried Hunk more. "I mean, yes? I wouldn't say that there's something wrong," she said, "just that I've been noticing… stuff."

Stuff. That could mean anything, but Hunk had a strong feeling like he knew where Pidge was going with this particular opener. "Stuff like Lance leaving his clothes and books around the apartment again, or stuff as in you feel like Keith and Lance are hanging out a lot?"

Pidge cringed a little as she admitted, "The second one?"

Hunk shut the laptop closed and twisted his body to face Pidge, grabbing the nearest pillow and hugging it close to his chest. "So, you seem to have noticed it too, huh."

"Don't get me wrong, it's not that it's a bad thing," Pidge began, "but don't you think it's kinda weird?"

Hunk reached for his mug of hot cocoa from the coffee table and settled it in between his palms, letting the warmth flow into his fingertips. "I mean, yes and no. It's a little strange that Lance was able to make friends with Keith that quickly, but at the same time, they seem to have bonded so well that it wouldn't make sense if they weren't friends," Hunk explained in between sips of the smooth, chocolatey liquid. "You catch my drift?"

Pidge sighed, nodding slowly, and reached for a handful of popcorn. "Yeah, I'm picking up what you're putting down."

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming," Hunk chuckled.

"Haha, very funny, Hunk." Several kernels of popcorn were sent flying in Hunk's direction. "I'm just a little concerned about Lance, that's all. We've both known him for the better part of two years now, and we know how attached he can get." Pidge pulled the sleeves of her striped shirt past her fingers, hiding her hands, and tucked her knees under her chin. "I'm just worried, Hunk."

"I know you're worried, and so am I, but it's not like Keith is a bad guy. He's been pretty cool to hang out with so far, and Lance seems to really enjoy spending time with him. It doesn't even matter what they're doing together. I mean, they're going to see a play, Pidge. Lance might be dramatic, but I don't think he's ever seen a play besides those school productions they force you to put on in elementary school."

"You've got a point," Pidge said slowly. "I don't know how many times I've seen Lance and Keith just studying in the library these past few weeks."

Hunk smiled softly. "To be fair, those study sessions are about 50% actual studying and 50% goofing off."

"More like 10% studying and 90% goofing off," Pidge laughed. "I don't think I've ever seen either of them crack open a textbook in the study area."

"That's a good thing though, I think," mused Hunk, picking up one of the popcorn kernels and turning it between his fingers. "As much as they're spending a ridiculous amount of time together, they are getting to know each other better. I don't know how many times Lance has come home talking about something he and Keith had done that day or a conversation that they had." Hunk gestured to the new additions on the poster wall adjacent to the couch. "I'm pretty sure Lance came home with three of those when he went to that poster sale with Keith."

"They've come up to me a couple times just to try and settle pointless arguments, but there's never any animosity. The banter is pretty entertaining," Pidge leaned back into her corner of the sofa, "and the weirdos seem to even enjoy it." She grew quiet a moment, no doubt reminiscing on the last time that she had resolved something for them.

Hunk, for his part, recalled Lance and Keith's last argument pertaining to the correct pronunciation of "GIF". He smiled to himself at the memory and was overtaken by others just like it. He could recall the four of them making playful bets in Professor Coran's classroom, Lance and Keith trading quips in the cafeteria, and drinking coffee with them as Keith and Lance discussed the best ways to approach their flight simulation tests. Even in his memories, Hunk found that Lance and Keith were close, brushing shoulders and teasing one another. It was rare these days to see one far apart from the other. Keith had slotted himself into their friendship effortlessly, and his connection with Lance, the way he made Lance happy, was something that was fascinating just to watch.

The living room silenced as both Hunk and Pidge reflected on the conversation topic at hand. Lance was their best friend. He deserved to be happy, and if Keith was at the root of this happiness, then so be it. Lance was a social butterfly, but it was rare for him to make such a deep connection. Though it was never expected that Keith would be the other party of this friendship, the closeness that both him and Lance shared was most definitely hard to find. Lance had unique relationships with both Hunk and Pidge, and Lance's relationship with Keith was just as unique.

"Y'know," Pidge sat up from her reclining position and crossed her legs, "I wasn't joking that day, the day that Lance formally introduced Keith to us."

Hunk quirked an eyebrow. "Joking about what?"

The popcorn bowl, now empty, jostled as Pidge reached forward for the fleece blanket on the other end of the sofa. "The whole dating thing. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but what do you think Lance's intentions are with Keith or even vice versa?" She draped the fuzzy fabric over her shoulders. "They hang out way more than the three of us usually do, and they always seem to be together."

"Oh, um, yeah. I was kinda thinking about that too," added Hunk, now fully devoting his attention to Pidge. "As far as I know, he hasn't explicitly said anything to me. He does get this look on his face whenever Keith texts him that really makes me think that he cares about Keith just a tad more than a friend would. And I mean, Keith is pretty similar. He actually listens when Lance has something to say and doesn't ignore him. He even remembers the little details, like the exact way Lance takes his coffee or little facts about his family." Hunk threw the kernel he was holding into the empty bowl. "But at the same time, it's his private life, and he's allowed to decide what he wants to share and what he chooses to withhold. I don't want to pry."

"Yeah, you're right," Pidge exhaled. "But what about Lance's whole thing about soulmates? It's pretty clear that he's one of the only people our age that still believes that whole philosophy. I don't know what Keith's stance is on it, so I just don't want Lance to get hurt."

Hunk placed his hand reassuringly on Pidge's knee. "I get where you're coming from, and I obviously want the best for Lance too, but this is something that the both of them are going to have to decide." Hunk continued, "Yes, we will be there for Lance if he ever wants to talk about it, and yes, we will support him in whatever his choice is, but I think that's all we can do."

"Yeah, I know. I just hope that he knows he can come to us for help when he needs to."

"Right, and that's what we'll be ready for," Hunk agreed. "But right now, Lance seems really happy, and he's enjoying himself. I don't think we should stop him from having that."

"Ah, Hunk Garrett, always the voice of reason." Pidge relaxed the tension in her shoulders and resumed a more comfortable position.

Hunk flashed Pidge a wink accompanied by his trademark finger guns. "Someone's gotta do it." Retrieving the laptop from the coffee table, Hunk reopened the paused documentary. "So what do you say, shall we continue our adventure to Ancient Greece?"

Pidge grinned widely as she snuggled further into the blanket. "Aye aye, captain."


"I'm gonna freaking kill you, Kogane!" The words rang clear throughout the apartment as Takashi Shirogane stepped through the front hallway and into the main living room.

"Not if I kill you first, McClain!" Keith challenged.

Shiro shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. "Now now, boys, haven't I always said that resorting to murder is never the answer?"

Both boys whipped their heads around to see Shiro leaning against the wall, laptop bag slung across his chest and a stack of what looked like student lab reports in his hands. Shiro always returned from the Garrison at around 4pm in the early evening because he believed that having a home-cooked meal for dinner was essential in maintaining good family relationships. Though Keith found this slightly overbearing at times, he still appreciated the meals and how much Shiro cared for him. If Shiro hadn't decided to take Keith under his wing, things may not have turned out as ideally.

"Oh, you're back," Keith turned his gaze back to the television screen. "Welcome home."

Shiro acknowledged Keith with a warm smile before shifting his gaze to the other boy in his home. "Lance, it's nice to see you here again."

"Ah, yeah, Keith invited me over to play some Super Smash Bros. I hope that's okay." Lance smiled nervously. It frankly didn't matter how many times he was over at Keith's place, it was still a little odd to see his TA in a non-academic setting. Lance still remembered the first time he went over to Keith's place, seeing Shiro casually lounging in the living room, watching Netflix. He was so used to seeing Shiro in the usual Garrison staff uniform, that it definitely took him by surprise when he found out Shiro wore t-shirts and sweatpants at home. Though Lance wouldn't necessarily call it weird, it certainly felt a little unorthodox to interact with his TA in this specific context.

Shiro's voice broke Lance out of his mnemonic daze. "Of course, you're more than welcome to visit any time you'd like. It's nice having you around. Plus, Keith's a lot more pleasant when you're here," Shiro laughed, setting down his messenger bag on the floor near the base of the couch.

Keith crumpled up the empty chip bag at his feet and threw it at Shiro. "Hey, I resent that."

"The truth hurts, little one," Shiro dodged the flying projectile and moved closer to ruffle Keith's hair.

Keith ran his fingers through his black hair in an attempt to fix the damage. "You're not that much older than me, Shiro. And you're definitely not old enough to have hair mussing privileges."

"Keith, I've known you since you were twelve. I think that grants me all older brother privileges," Shiro corrected as he made his way into the kitchen. Placing the lab reports down on the kitchen island and opening the fridge, Shiro scanned the contents before deciding on the night's dinner menu. Pasta seemed like a good option. "Lance!" Shiro poked his head out from behind the fridge door. "You staying again for dinner? I need to know how much pasta primavera to make."

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd love to." Lance got up from his spot on the carpet, plopped the game controller back onto the television stand (much to Keith's dismay), and joined Shiro in the kitchen. "Need any help? I warn you, I'm not the best chef, but I can definitely be useful if guided properly."

"Lance, we're in the middle of a brawl. You can't just walk away," Keith yelled from the other room.

"Yes, I can. As a matter of fact, I'm doing it right now. I'm helping Shiro, and to be honest, you should too," Lance called back at equal volume.

"So," Lance turned to Shiro after washing his hands and drying them. "What should I do?"

Shiro wiped his hands on the front of his apron. "The recipe's pretty simple, but it requires quite a bit of prep work. Could you start with slicing the green and red peppers and cutting the carrots into quarter-sized pieces?"

"Sure thing." Lance rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and fetched a cutting board from the cabinet and a chef's knife from the knife block. After thoroughly washing the bell peppers and carrots, Lance set them onto the wooden board and proceeded to slice them into the appropriate sizes, albeit them not exactly turning out uniform.

Not long after, Keith appeared in the kitchen, visibly disgruntled. He wasn't particularly happy that Lance had left mid-game in favour of spending time with Shiro. He groaned as he pressed the top of his head to Lance's back. "Why are you choosing now of all times to be responsible?"

Lance's grip on the knife tightened as he felt the warmth of Keith's presence behind him. Now, Keith wasn't known to be a physical person, however, Lance had come to find out that Keith became a little more clingy when he was in the middle of one of his minor tantrums, such as the present moment. "Hey, be careful. I'm holding a knife," Lance cautioned.

Keith could only harrumph disapprovingly as he shifted positions and sidled up next to Lance. Fuck it, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. "Fine. I'll help. What do you need me to do?"

"I'm only following Shiro's orders. You'll need to ask him," Lance tilted his head towards Shiro who was currently lowering the dry pasta into the pot of boiling water. Lance resumed preparing the vegetables, slightly more aware than he wanted to be of the sudden coolness as Keith left his side.

Keith walked over to the faucet and washed his hands before consulting with Shiro. "What is there left to do?"

Shiro handed him a small plastic bag containing a yellow squash and several zucchinis. "If you could julienne these, that would be perfect. When you're done, take what Lance has, combine it with your veggies and throw it in the oven at 450 for 15 minutes."

"Okay, got it." Keith grabbed the bag from Shiro, pulled out the Santoku knife from the cutlery drawer, and set down the materials on the counter space next to Lance. "I can't believe you roped me into helping out," Keith whispered to Lance as he dumped the contents of his plastic bag onto the cutting board.

Lance lightly bumped his hip to Keith's side. "You live here, so it's fair you do your part. Think of everything Shiro has done for you."

"Augh, it's not that I'm ungrateful or anything, it's really the opposite. You, of all people, should know." Keith continued to carefully slice the squash and zucchini into identical strips.

"Then why all the grumbling?" Lance queried, brushing the chopped up pieces of bell pepper and carrot from the cutting board onto the aluminum-lined baking tray Shiro had previously placed before him.

Keith stopped slicing for a moment to look up at his friend. "Lance, listen." The pensive look Lance returned prompted Keith to continue. "I invited you over to have fun, so it just kinda sucks that you're spending your time here cooking."

Lance let out a gentle laugh. "And who said I wasn't having fun doing this?" He flashed Keith a reassuring smile. "I've said this since the beginning, Keith. Just spending time with you is fun. It doesn't really matter what we're doing, as long as we're in each other's company, right?" Lance laid out all the cut up vegetables onto the tray and stepped aside as he let Keith place them on the rack in the preheated oven.

"Ah, yeah, you know what I mean," Keith stuttered. Did Lance really know what Keith meant? After that first long conversation during Keith's first visit to Lance's apartment in which Keith had practically divulged his struggles growing up with no parents, the two of them never got another opportunity to discuss anything of similar gravity. Keith wished he could convey how appreciative he was of Lance and how things appeared so much brighter when he was around. Lance was truly the light at the end of his dark tunnel. "I -, " Keith started, but before he could continue his thought, Shiro conveniently (read inconveniently) interrupted him.

"Keith! Could you clear the dining table and set it afterwards?" Shiro removed the cooked pasta and ran it through the colander. "I'd ask Lance to do it, but I'm sure you know better where everything goes." As always, Shiro flashed him the trademark smile. The kind of smile that you just couldn't say no to. Believe me, Keith has tried.

Keith tried to ignore the minor throbbing in his chest and reluctantly left the kitchen as he muttered a "yes, Sir," and promptly started to clear away all the papers and other miscellaneous items that had piled up on the table.

As soon as Keith was well out of earshot, Shiro pulled Lance to the side. "Lance," Shiro began, his voice full of reassurance, "thank you."

"Um, you're welcome? I know cooking can be tough if it's just one person in the kitchen, so I figured I'd help. Especially since I'm over so often." Lance smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

Shiro let out a small laugh. "As much as I appreciate your cooking assistance, that's not what I was referring to." The timer on the oven went off, signalling that the vegetables had reached the desired tenderness. Shiro donned the oven mitts and retrieved the tray from the hot oven. "I really want to thank you for being Keith's friend."

Lance scooped the cooked vegetables into the pot of pasta. "It's really nothing. You don't have to thank me for that."

"I know that you and Keith didn't have the best beginnings to your friendship, but I am ever so grateful that it's turned out to be what it is," Shiro placed his hand on Lance's shoulder. "He's come out of his shell ever since he started hanging out with you, Hunk, and Pidge. I don't know how much Keith has told you, but he hit a couple rough patches growing up, so now that he has such great friends to rely on and just goof around with, I'm really happy. That's all I ever wanted for him."

"Then I'm glad that all of us were able to be friends." Lance could feel the beginnings of a blush spread across his face.

Shiro smiled. "Lance, you're good for him. So, thank you for giving him a chance."

The heat in Lance's cheeks became much more apparent, and he tried to make it less obvious by repeatedly pressing the backs of his hands to his face. "Ah, it's no problem," Lance managed to stammer out.

Seeing Lance's reaction, Shiro decided to cut the conversation to spare any feelings of embarrassment. At this point, Shiro had finished combining the rest of the ingredients into the pasta and transferred it to a Corningware to be brought out to the dining table. Grabbing the ends of the dish with a kitchen towel, he set it down in the centre of the now cleared table. "Alright, boys, let's dig in," said Shiro as he began scooping out generous helpings for both Keith and Lance.

Once all was settled, Keith noticed the remnants of fading colour on Lance's cheeks. "Dude," He leaned in closer to Lance. "Did Shiro say something weird? Your face looks a little funny."

Without thinking, Lance said the first thing that came into his mind. "Your face looks a little funny." Oh god. That did not come out right at all. The puzzled (and borderline offended) look that Keith gave him was enough to make him want to crawl into the nearest black hole and die of embarrassment. To make matters worse, he could see Shiro try to hide a laugh in his periphery. Lance focused his vision on Shiro and pleaded with his eyes for help.

Understanding Lance's cry for assistance, Shiro cleared his throat. "Alright, boys, no fighting at the dinner table. Let's try to enjoy the meal that we all made, hm?" Shiro stabbed several pieces of pasta and chewed slowly, wary of the sudden awkwardness of the situation.

Keith stared down at his plate, rolling a singular penne noodle back and forth with his fork, with only one thought. What the fuck just happened?


"How about this one?" Lance pulled a heather grey sweatshirt off the nearest rack. "It's got a more subtle Garrison logo on it. Plus, it's got that halfway zipper that you like so much."

Keith left the shelf lined with black and orange mugs and drifted back to Lance, who held out the sweatshirt in front of Keith. He inspected both sides of the sweatshirt before replying, "I guess this one is okay? I don't know." He briefly traced the embroidered stitching on the upper left corner. Lance was right. The orange and grey logo was definitely underwhelming, but in a good way. Keith was never one to be gaudy or flashy, so the prospect of buying a sweater with the words 'Galaxy Garrison' brandished across his chest didn't seem all that appealing. Except, he had allowed Lance to drag him all the way to the campus retail store. Keith may have offhandedly mentioned that he didn't own any Garrison merchandise while looking over Lance's growing collection of various long sleeves, mugs, and sweatshirts. And so, the very next day, Keith found himself alongside Lance standing in the middle of the Garrison's retail store.

Keith hadn't exactly been against going, but Lance had been quite adamant that they go check things out. How could he have said no? Although, now, as the pair of them picked their way through the array of Garrison labelled apparel, Keith started to feel as though maybe it was less about having the ability to say no and more about actually wanting to go with Lance.

"Okay, so we'll pass on the sweatshirt." Lance plucked the shirt out of Keith's hands and hooked it back on the rack. "Not a problem. There's a lot more here than just-"

"Lance, I never said I didn't like the sweatshirt," said Keith, laughing at his friend's hastiness. He had to admit, the half-zipper was kind of his style. His hand was halfway to the sweatshirt when Lance's fingers curled around his wrist, stopping him. The smile on Keith's face fell into one that was more teasing as he turned to look at Lance very slowly. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Lance's attempt at casualty didn't go unnoticed, but Keith held his tongue. Lance let go and stuck both his hands in his pockets instead. "Just relax, dude. You don't have to force yourself to be into it or anything."

Keith sighed, returning his hand to his side. "What makes you think I'm forcing myself? I know I wasn't exactly into the whole Garrison merch thing before, but this is actually kind of fun. I mean, if we didn't come here, how would I know that the Garrison was trying to make money off of constellation thermoses that glow in the dark?" Keith pointed over to the shelf full of patterned thermoses and water bottles adorned with the same celestial stickers that Keith could have sworn he'd seen at the Dollar Store. "Glow in the dark, Lance."

"To be fair," said Lance, his face lighting up with renewed energy at Keith's enthusiasm, "there will always be a soft spot in my heart for glow-in-the-dark stars. I used to have them in my room back at home. I had them peppered all over the ceiling."

"Really?" The pair of them walked over to the shelf and Lance picked out one of the taller water bottles. "So, you were always a space kid?" Keith quickly plucked off a small package of the glow in the dark stickers while Lance wasn't looking.

"Of course," Lance grinned, and Keith felt a quiet pleasure at knowing that he had been the one to cause that smile. "Weren't you?"

"Oh, I definitely was. When I was younger, my dad and I would stargaze a lot. We practically lived in the middle of the desert, so there were a lot of clear nights where we'd sit on the porch and just stare at the night sky." Keith looked at the patterned stars decorating the bottle in Lance's hand fondly. "And if we were feeling adventurous, my dad would take me up to the roof and teach me how to spot the different constellations. Not exactly the safest place, but it made for some great memories."

Lance returned the water bottle to the shelf. "That honestly sounds like a lot of fun. I wish my parents took me stargazing." Lance looked at Keith earnestly and stuck out his pinky finger. "Promise me we'll get to do that together someday?"

Keith hooked his pinky with Lance's. "Beat me in Iverson's flight simulation next week, and you've got yourself a deal."

"That is not playing fair, Kogane. You know I can't ever beat you at those," Lance whined and playfully hit Keith's shoulder. There was no questioning Keith's piloting ability. The skill level required to maneuver those tight twists and turns while simultaneously being able to fire at the practice targets accurately was something that only Keith Kogane could do.

"Then I guess you're gonna have to say goodbye to stargazing," Keith smirked.

Lance crossed his arms in indignation. "You meanie." Lance strode back to the clothing racks and pulled a few pieces off the bars, laying them across his arm. He grabbed a pair of grey joggers, the grey sweatshirt from before, two different t-shirts in the Garrison's standard grey and orange, and a black windbreaker. "Just for that," he shot Keith a look which Keith merely returned with the amused quirk of his eyebrow, "we're adding this." He nabbed a bright orange jacket with the words 'Galaxy Garrison' stitched across the front in big bold letters.

"And all of that's for me?"

"You bet." Lance ushered Keith towards the fitting rooms at the back of the store, nudging him forward with his shoulder. "You have to wear all of these."

"All of them?" Keith scanned the large pile of clothes Lance had collected.

"Yes, Keith," said Lance patiently as they stood awaiting an open room. "All of them."

"At once?!"

"Keith, this is called layering. It's fashion. I wouldn't expect you to understand." Lance sifted through the clothes on his arm. "You're going to need to wear these all with the grey t-shirt and then all of them again but with the orange one."

Keith ran a tired hand down his face. "Lance, nobody is going to know I'm wearing a t-shirt under all these clothes."

"But I'm gonna know, Keith." Lance gestured to one of the now empty fitting rooms. "Look, one just opened up. Just shut up and trust me. Go try it on."

"Don't make me regret this." Keith trudged into the fitting room and threw Lance one last suspicious look before locking the door behind him. It only took 20 seconds before Keith spoke up again. "Hey, Lance? What goes on first?"

Lance chuckled to himself and walked a little closer to the fitting room. "The t-shirt, obviously."

There was a pause, and Lance could hear some shuffling behind the door. "And then?"

"The sweatshirt." Hangers clinked against one another from within the changing room.

"Um, okay. And then?"

"Keith, do you seriously not know what comes after the sweatshirt?" Lance leaned against the wall next to the room.

Keith groaned in exasperation. "You gave me a windbreaker and a jacket, Lance. They serve the same purpose. Just tell me, which one do you want me to put on next?"

"The windbreaker first, then the jacket," Lance stated a matter of factly.

"You just had to pick this jacket, huh?" grumbled Keith.

Lance couldn't help but laugh again. "Don't question the master, Keith." Lance reached into his coat pocket to grab his phone but paused to add, "Oh, and don't forget the pants."

"I'm not going to forget my pants, Lance."

"Just thought I'd double check." He pulled out his phone and went straight to his apps. Opening Snapchat, Lance readied himself for the moment Keith stepped out of the fitting room. "You almost done in there?"

"Yeah, one sec, just zipping up the jacket."

As soon as the door swung open, Lance hit the shutter, capturing a perfect portrait of Keith's disgruntled face. "Looking good, Kogane."

Keith turned to look at himself in the mirror on the other side of the door. "I look ridiculous, Lance." He gave himself another once-over. "I might as well be a walking advertisement for the store with the amount of stuff I have on."

"I mean, we wear Garrison merch to represent the Garrison, so that's kind of the point?" Lance replied as he captioned the photo and posted it. "Besides, you don't look thatbad."

Keith indicated to the Garrison logo emblazoned on his chest. "Are you kidding me?"

"Maybe you'll like it better with the grey t-shirt inside rather than the orange one," Lance pulled the zipper of the sweater to expose the collar of the shirt inside. Even if Lance had picked the worst jacket he could pick for Keith, the boy didn't look bad in the rest of the ensemble.

"You can't possibly be asking me to try on all these items again with a different shirt on the inside."

Lance smiled triumphantly. "Wow, Keith, I didn't know you could read minds." Before Keith could say another word, Lance turned him around and pushed him back into the fitting room. "Okay now, chop chop, I wanna see the other outfit. You don't need my help this time, right? I'm sure you remember the order."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Keith shut the door and fastened the lock.

Lance shook his head and stepped away from the fitting room. Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he stretched his arms and let his eyes drift through the store. There were a few students browsing through the display of onesies at one end of the store while a couple of girls were deciding whether to buy a Garrison sweater or a rugby shirt. Lance was perusing the shelves of water bottles when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

"Lance! I didn't expect to see you here."

Lance turned and was greeted by Matt Holt. It had been a while since Lance had actually seen Matt, but the surprise was a welcome one. "Matt? What are you doing here?"

"I had to come by to pick up some of the journals I requested for my Honours thesis." Matt waved the small pile of articles in his hand. "How about you? What brings you to the store?"

"Oh, I'm just waiting for Keith." Lance gestured to where Keith was no doubt changing into the next outfit. "He's in the fitting room right now."

"Keith? As in Shiro's brother? That Keith?" Matt's brow furrowed. "I didn't realize you guys even knew each other."

"Yeah. We actually have a fair number of classes together." Lance smiled fondly. "We're friends."

Matt perked up at that. "Speaking of friends, are Hunk and Pidge with you too? There's something I want to ask my sister."

"No, actually. I'm just here with Keith," Lance replied, more softly this time.

"Ah, I just assumed you guys were together. The three of you were always joined at the hip, calling yourself The Three Amigos," Matt chuckled.

"We're not always together," Lance retorted. Sure, he spent a majority of his time with Hunk and Pidge, but that didn't mean they were inseparable.

"Actually, you guys kind of were. I don't think I've ever seen one of you without the other ever since you all started school here," said Matt thoughtfully. "Even if, by some circumstance or another, you guys were separated, you knew where everyone was."

Lance bit his lip. Over the last couple of years, they had gotten into the habit of keeping each other updated with their whereabouts to ensure that they'd be able to meet up after. When had that stopped? They still did things together, didn't they? "They're my best friends," said Lance instead, "so I guess it makes sense we did everything together."

Matt took a quick glance at his watch. "Oh crap, I'm running late for a class. If you see my sister today, could you let her know I'm looking for her?"

"Yeah, for sure," Lance automatically replied.

"Thanks a bunch. I guess I'll see you around. Have fun with Keith!" Matt waved goodbye as he jogged towards the exit.

Lance waved back half-heartedly and let his hand drop once Matt was out of sight. Could Matt be right? Sure, Lance spent a lot of time with Hunk and Pidge. They were all friends. It was normal to want to hang out with friends. But the problem wasn't that Lance didn't want to hang out with his friends. Instead, he was hanging out with one friend in particular.

When was the last time he had watched a movie with Hunk and Pidge or even had a proper meal with them? The mere fact that he couldn't remember seemed to introduce an anxiety that manifested itself in thoughts of inadequacy. Was Lance a bad friend? Had he spent so much time with Keith that he had forgotten his other friends? If that was the case, he surely didn't mean for it to happen.

"Lance? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." Keith gently shook Lance's shoulders. "Did something happen?"

Lance tensed at Keith's touch and tried to compose himself. "No, it's nothing." Trying his hardest to smile, Lance shoved his hands in his jean pockets and looked up at Keith. "So, how'd everything go in the fitting room? You find something you like?"

Fishing out the grey sweatshirt from between the t-shirt and the windbreaker and laying the remainder of the clothes on a nearby table, Keith flashed Lance a genuine smile. "You were right, McClain. I did like this one the best."

"Good, I'm glad." Lance smiled meekly. "The checkout line doesn't seem too long, so you better get yourself over there before it's too late."

"Yeah, good call," said Keith. He looked between the checkout line and Lance, and it seemed as if he might say something more before Lance spoke up.

"Alright, get a move on. I'll wait for you by the door. Don't forget to use your student card to collect points for discounts next time."

Lance dragged his feet to the main entrance of the store and stared at the tiles, tracing the outline with the tip of his sneakers as he waited for Keith to finish paying.

Keith returned in a timely fashion, new sweater in hand. "Okay, let's go,"

The both of them exited the building and made their way to the nearest intersection as Keith pulled out his phone, ready to compose a new text message. "You want me to ask Shiro what's for dinner tonight?"

"Um, I don't think I'll be coming over today. There's something I need to do at home," Lance apologized.

"Oh. Okay." Keith's expression immediately fell, and Lance could feel the guilt eating him whole.

Lance grabbed Keith's forearm reassuringly. "I'm sorry, but it's important. Maybe next time? I promise."

A beat of silence passed between them. Keith's eyes roved Lance's face looking for… something but when he couldn't find it, he nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure, do what you gotta do. Text me if you need help though, okay?" Keith hiked his bag over his left shoulder before setting off to cross the street.

"I will. Thank you." The words sounded insincere, empty, as if someone else was saying them. Lance's voice didn't even sound right in his own ears, his own guilt festering in his chest as Keith departed. Praying that Keith hadn't noticed anything amiss, Lance headed home. Lance was so consumed with his thoughts that he hardly noticed that he had arrived at the apartment.

Pulling out the keys, he unlocked the door and let himself in. Hunk was sitting at their kitchen table, his textbook open in front of him, and was no doubt working away on some of the homework questions that Professor Coran had assigned in their last class. Homework, however, was the least of Lance's worries.

"Lance, you're home!" Hunk smiled invitingly as he capped the pen he was using and laid it across his notebook. Hunk looked so innocent, so pure, so unassuming. "How was shopping with Keith?"

"Fine." Lance hooked up his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and trudged over to the table.

"Are you sure?" Hunk asked, turning in his chair. "You don't look so good."

"Oh, Hunk," Lance's lips trembled, the words spilling out before he could control them. "Hunk, I'm so sorry!"

Hunk immediately closed his textbook and pushed it to the far corner of the table. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's going on, Lance? What happened?"

Lance fully extended his arms, spanning half the width of the table, and rested his cheek on the wooden surface. "Hunk," Lance began without looking up, "Am I a bad friend?"

"Where'd you get such a ridiculous idea like that?" Hunk rested his hand on Lance's back. "You're one of my best friends. How could I ever consider you a bad friend?"

"Ugh, I don't know." Lance adjusted his position so that his forehead was now flush against the table. "I've just been thinking about it," Lance continued, his voice now partially muffled.

Hunk rubbed soothing circles into his friend's back. "Did someone say something to you? Did Keith say something?"

"No," Lance shook his head, "he didn't."

"Then, what happened?" asked Hunk carefully. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Lance exhaled, taking a moment to organize the chaos in his head before returning an answer. "I bumped into Matt the store."

"Like, Pidge's brother, Matt?" Hunk quirked an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yeah." Lance peeked up from his position on the table, and Hunk offered him a smile.

Hunk picked up his pen and began twirling it between his fingers. "Oh, that's surprising. We hardly see him anymore with him doing his thesis whilst juggling his TA job."

"Yeah, I know. I was surprised to see him too." Lance straightened his back before propping his chin in his left palm.

"So, did Matt say something then?"

"Not explicitly, no," said Lance, staring down at table. Were the wood-grain patterns always this interesting? "Basically, he was wondering why I'm not hanging out with you or Pidge and hanging out with Keith instead."

Hunk frowned in response. "That doesn't sound like a Matt thing to say…"

Lance's head snapped back up. "Okay, he phrased it much nicer than that, but you get the general idea."

"Right, okay," Hunk's countenance shifted to one of confusion, "and this relates to you being a bad friend how, exactly?"

Lance sighed. He was hesitant to give his thoughts a voice, but Hunk deserved the truth. "I just kept thinking about how I spend almost all my time with Keith now, how much I seem to be changing, and then I tried to remember the last time the Three Amigos hung out, and I couldn't come up with anything, and now I feel really shitty." The confession still stuck in his throat, and Lance quietly cursed to himself. Even admitting it wasn't enough to make the guilt leave completely. And why should it? Hunk had every right to be mad at Lance.

Hunk, on the other hand, merely softened at Lance's admission, his warm hand resting on Lance's shoulder in comfort. It just made Lance want to cry. "Lance…"

He swallowed the tightness in his throat and continued. "I just don't want you guys to think that I'm abandoning you for someone else. I love you guys too much to do that." Lance's voice was almost at a whisper now, for he feared that if he spoke any louder, the thoughts would echo around the room and make them even more real.

The smile that overtook Hunk's face felt like absolutely sunshine. "Lance, it's okay." At Lance's skeptical look, Hunk chuckled softly. "Honestly, I'm really glad that you and Keith are developing such a close relationship. He was definitely more of a lone wolf character when we first met him, but after all that time with you, he seems so much happier."

"But-" Lance began in protest, but Hunk silenced him with a look.

'"Dude, don't beat yourself up over it. I know you have a tendency to overthink things and allow things to completely overwhelm you, so I'm telling you right now that everything is okay."

"Are you sure we're okay?"

Hunk stood and pulled his friend into a hug. "Lance, we've always been more than okay. Nothing will change that." Lance hugged him back tightly as the urge to cry returned. The weight in his chest grew lighter.

"You're the best, Hunk," Lance said.

"Of course I am!" Hunk gave Lance a comforting squeeze before pulling away. "Now go wash up. I made garlic knots for dinner."

Lance shook his head, incredulous. "How is it that you decided to make my favourite food on the day that I'm feeling down?"

Hunk merely shrugged. "Probably with the power of friendship." He nudged Lance towards the kitchen. "Now be quick! The garlic knots are fresh, and they're not going to eat themselves."

"I'm going, I'm going!" Lance laughed in return, walking towards the kitchen sink.

Lance stuck his hands under the faucet and washed them while Hunk began to clear the table. As they prepared for dinner, Hunk talked about the difficult astronomy questions he'd worked on while Lance hazarded playful guesses at them. It didn't take them long to fall into their happy back and forth, discussing anything and everything that came to mind. Hunk avoided asking Lance about his outing with Keith, and for that, Lance was thankful. The warmth of Hunk's hug lingered over dinner, and their conversation had carefully pushed Lance's guilt off to the side where he couldn't feel it.

Which was perfect for Lance. With his mind clear and positive, Lance wondered if he really had just been overthinking things. Hunk hadn't found their friendship lacking over the last couple of months and, with any luck, neither had Pidge. Matt's observation had come from an innocent place.

It didn't have to mean anything, Lance decided as he readied himself for bed. He smoothed out the edges of his face mask, pushed back his wet hair with a headband, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Everything was fine, wasn't it?

As if on cue, Lance's phone beeped on his nightstand. Lance left the bathroom and headed towards his phone. A new text from Keith sat on the screen. He took a deep breath and tapped on the unopened message.

Keith - started a conversation with Lance McClain -

Keith
You haven't texted me since you got home. Is everything good?

Lance's thumbs hovered over the keyboard, fumbling to find the right words to type. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't just tell Keith what happened with Hunk. He was, after all, kind of the main character of the issue. Lance decided on fabricating a white lie.

Lance
Yes! Everything is fine and dandy. Thanks for the concern.

Keith
Ah, that's good to hear. You had me scared for a second.

Keith
Did you still wanna Skype tonight?

Lance
Um, I think I might just head to bed if that's okay with you. It's been a long day, and I really need my beauty sleep.

Keith
Sure thing. Then, goodnight, Lance.

Lance
'Night, Keith.

Lance clutched his phone tighter in his hands as the feelings of guilt returned. This wasn't Keith's fault. But, if what Matt said held any truth, Lance was going to have to reevaluate how he was divvying up his time. The thoughts that had subsided for the duration of dinner crowded his brain again for the second time that day. He peeled off his face mask and tossed it into the garbage bin next to his nightstand. Patting the remaining serum into his skin, Lance settled against the headboard of his bed.

Both conversations with Matt and Hunk replayed in his mind in perfect recall, almost as if Lance had filmed both encounters and was watching the playback. Lance knows that Hunk would never make a big deal out of anything. He knows that with all his heart, and yet, the inescapable thought that perhaps Hunk had felt left out in all this continued to linger. The answer was theoretically simple; spend more time with Hunk and Pidge. However, that meant cutting time spent with Keith, and that wasn't something Lance wanted either. Feeling defeated, Lance slid down into his covers, resting his still damp hair on the pillow. With his brain churning like this, there was no way he was going to get any sleep.