Keith and Lance, Side By Side
"What is this for again?" Lance asked, poking at his food goo in the bowl.
"It's an experiment," Pidge explained patiently. Patiently, because she wanted something, and when Pidge wanted something, she was very good at reigning back her short temper. "We know Keith is Galra now, and I want to see how Galra genes stack up against human ones."
"Yeah, but what does that mean?"
"Galra should have different abilities than humans, I would think. Certainly, the Galra we've fought in hand to hand have different moves and stuff, so I want to see whether Keith has Galra abilities and what those abilities are. It might help us develop strategies to defeat them in the future."
Lance stuffed a bite into his mouth. Today it tasted vaguely like strawberries if they had a slightly saltier taste to them. Hunk was starting to learn how to cook with alien food, but it was a long-term project for him. Finding taste equivalents in space to the Earth things they knew took time. Plus, traveling so far and wide, they never had the same ingredients available on shopping trips…and the castleship records were ten thousand years old and not exactly up to date.
"It makes perfect sense, Pidge," Shiro said, nodding thoughtfully. "A controlled experiment could shed a lot of light on what makes the Galra tick. Especially if Keith does have those genes controlling Galra abilities."
Everyone stared at Keith, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Lance knew he hated it when people pointed out his half-Galra heredity. Or at least, Lance thought he did. Keith hadn't confided in him about it. It was more the way Keith acted when it was brought up. Curling in on himself, eyes shifting, a flush to the cheeks. He felt bad for Keith in that respect, because he knew how it felt to be singled out for his race. He knew what it was like to be the only non-native-English-speaking Hispanic in a group of white kids.
Allura's initial reaction didn't help, but Lance was proud of his other teammates, who treated Keith as they always had. Not that Shiro would ever treat the young man he saw as a brother any different. Pidge would only look at him as scientifically interesting, and Hunk loved everyone, so it definitely wouldn't matter to him about Keith's heritage. While Lance kind of understood how Allura felt, it was Keith, and Keith wouldn't harm a hair on the head of any of them. Allura should know that.
She'd mellowed a bit since then, and now Keith was once again fully accepted on the team, but Lance could tell it was still a sore subject for him. Lance had no idea how he would react to finding out he was half alien. For him, though, he thought the fact Keith was part alien was unbearably cool. Since this trip started, he thought it'd be awesome to hook up with an alien. Maybe he wouldn't have to go further than the room next door.
After all, he'd had a crush on Keith for years, so this just enhanced it.
He snorted quietly to himself. Like that would happen.
"Cool. I'll need your help, by the way," she said, directing it at Shiro.
"My help?"
"I need something to compare Keith to. So, I'll run Keith through a series of physical tests with you to compare."
"Sounds fair."
"And Lance," she added.
"Me!" Lance squawked, dropping food on his shirt.
"Yes, I need to compare Keith to you and to Shiro."
"Why me?"
The grin she gave him was downright wicked, and he felt uneasy at the smirk. "I need to compare Keith to a perfect specimen of physical strength. And a not-so-perfect one."
Lance spluttered indignantly while Hunk and Pidge laughed, Allura hid a smile behind her hand, Shiro tried to protest, and Coran indignantly defended Lance's honor ("Don't say that about my brave boy!").
Pidge raised her hands in front of her to forestall Lance's tirade as her giggles subsided. "I don't mean to offend," she said in a way that completely told Lance she meant to offend. "I just…Shiro is Shiro and you're you. It's a good comparison either way."
"I'll have you know, Pidgey, I'm very physically strong!"
"Not like Shiro."
"Well, why don't you test with Hunk?" he asked, gesturing toward his best friend.
"Wow, that hurts!" Hunk said.
"You laughed at me!"
"Hunk is far superior in strength to you. He's close to Shiro, so I can't compare Keith to him."
Lance slumped back in the chair, crossing his arms across his chest and scowling at all of them. When his eyes fell on Keith, he noticed that the red paladin hadn't lifted his eyes from his meal. And, hadn't said anything at all in response to this whole conversation. "What if Keith doesn't want to?"
At his name, Keith looked up, giving them all a neutral expression, though Lance could see the red to his ears and see the slight flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Yeah, sure. I'm all for it."
"What!?" Lance exclaimed.
Keith shrugged. "I think it's a good idea." Then, surprisingly his lips lifted into a grin. "See how much I'm better than you at everything."
They all dissolved into laughter, except Lance, who continued to sulk at the table until dinner was over.
The next day found all of them, except Coran, at the training arena. "I've been working all night on some setups I'm going to run you through," she explained, looking in turn at Lance, Shiro, and Keith. The three of them were dressed in loose, workout-type clothing. Shorts and tank tops they found at the Space Mall. They all nodded and moved to separate areas to do some warmup exercises and stretches. Lance was determined, now, to beat Keith at everything Pidge threw in front of them.
The first was a simple test of speed. She wanted to see if the Galra genes in Keith affected speed. They were to run around the edge of the arena, where Pidge had programmed the floor similar to what you might see at an Earth track meet, down to the starting pegs to push your feet against. Lance had this. Didn't he run track at the Garrison for their team? He was a long-distance runner, but still a runner and had the body for it. Long legs, lanky frame, perfect for speeding around a track. He had this and was going to kick Keith's ass.
Only. He didn't. Keith outdistanced him in the first couple of yards and left him eating proverbial dust; if there'd been dust in the arena. It was merely a hundred-yard dash, but Keith put both him and Shiro to shame. Lance gave a frustrated grunt, satisfied only that he outpaced Shiro. But he didn't care about Shiro. His focus was on the black-haired mullet giving him a sly smile as he took a swig from his water pouch. "Try to keep up in the next one, Sharpshooter," he said.
Lance snatched Keith's water pouch from him and slurped down the remainder of the water. Keith only watched with a raised eyebrow, and something Veronica once said to him floated through his mind.
"Drinking from the same cup is like an indirect kiss."
Shit. He felt his face heat up, which made Keith tilt his head with a curious look. Lance spun and went to throw the empty pouch away, grumbling about stupid mullet-headed Galras.
"Awesome, guys," Pidge said over the intercom, her voice echoing in the arena as it bounced off the walls. "That was approximately a hundred yards. Or as close as I can figure with Altean measurements. I'm gonna have you do a fifty-yard sprint and see your times."
The arena floor changed and the three of them went over to their starting points and knelt into the starting position. Alright. He could do this one. A short sprint should be easy for him to handle. He pushed aside the fact Keith outdistanced him in the hundred-yard within a couple of strides.
This test wasn't any different, though Lance outdistanced Shiro even further. Keith however, casually waited for them at the finish line. Lance felt himself grinding his teeth as he crossed, glaring at Keith as he skidded past.
Pidge ran them through a few more speed tests and with each one, Lance felt his humiliation mount up. This was ridiculous. He knew he was a good runner! So Keith had freaky Galra genes! That didn't mean Lance was slow. He conveniently forgot Shiro was always last in the speed trials, but beating Shiro wasn't satisfying. Beating Keith would be. Weren't they rivals after all?
"I thought you were as fast as you were accurate, Sharpshooter," Keith taunted. He seemed barely out of breath and didn't seem to break a sweat. They'd run twelve different speed tests – he and Shiro were red-faced and panting. Lance could feel his tank top sticking to his skin.
He glared at Keith as he sucked down yet another water pouch, slurping at it angrily while Keith looked cool as a cucumber and sipped at his own. Keith's smirk at him wasn't helping matters and he thought he wouldn't mind shoving that water pouch straw of Keith's somewhere not pleasant. Then that just made him think of Keith's ass and his cheeks flared up anew with something other than overexertion.
"If you guys are ready," Pidge's voice came over the overhead speakers, "I'd like to move on to strength."
Lance grunted, scowling up at the control room above them. He knew he'd fail this. He liked to brag and appear confident, but he was well aware of his abilities and he knew he'd fail against both Keith and Shiro at this. Look at Shiro! The man was pure muscle! Lance was wiry and wasn't exactly a weakling, but Shiro's real freaking biceps were as thick as Lance's waist it seemed!
And, again, Keith probably had those freaky genes helping his strength capabilities.
He was right. Weight-lifting weights were apparently a universal thing among Earth and alien species. The metal rods with adjustable weights on the ends were similar to what Lance had seen in gyms on Earth, only these were unique because they were programmable. With a couple of button presses, Pidge could change the weight of the bar without adding an actual weight wheel like on Earth. Lance didn't have time to ponder the coolness of such a contraption, because Pidge had set the first weight and he stepped up to lift it.
The first few were easy, but by the fourth adjustment, Lance grunted louder than normal as he lifted, grumbling at Shiro's reminder to lift with the knees. He lifted the bar above his head, then let it drop with a thump. Keith and Shiro lifted it easily like it was a piece of paper. When Pidge adjusted the weight for the next round, Lance struggled to lift it to his knee level. It took a long time for him to shimmy it up enough over his head before dropping it with a loud bang.
Again, Keith and Shiro lifted it easily. Lance glared as he watched, arms crossed, as Keith lifted. Keith shot him a little smile as he handled the bar. Lance rolled his eyes and Keith laughed as he set it down gently.
Lance couldn't lift the next adjusted weight at all. He yanked and pulled at it, stubbornly not wanting to give up. He grunted and clenched his teeth as he strained at the stupid dead weight on the floor in front of him.
"Too much for you?" Keith asked.
Lance flickered a glance up at the grinning asshole and pulled harder. Fuck. It was too much for him and he didn't want to admit it. He strained some more until Shiro stepped up, gently suggesting he stop. It was starting to hurt, so he let go and stepped back, red in the face – from exertion and embarrassment.
Again, Shiro and Keith lifted it easily. Lance stepped to the side and slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on his butt to watch. He wasn't going any further. Complaints rumbled through his mind, but he loved watching Shiro and Keith compete. Lance had hoped Shiro would wipe Keith's face on the mat, but they kept lifting each weight with no effort. Lance wanted to cheer for Shiro, and he did out loud, but it was fascinating to watch Keith lift, too. And, well, the crush wasn't helping Lance either in deciding on whom to root for. Shiro looked the part of a weight-lifter, but Keith was small. Wiry, but small and didn't have obvious muscles. Not like Shiro.
Yet, Lance had done hand-to-hand combat training with Keith, sparring in wrestling-type contests, so he knew how strong Keith was, and how hard his smaller muscles were. Lance tried to push the thought out of his mind. Thinking of all the times Keith pinned him to the floor wasn't helping his situation.
Three rounds after Lance tapped out, Keith lifted the bar to his chest, then over his head. Then the cheeky bastard let go and held the bar above his head with one fucking hand, grinning the whole time at Lance. Lance, who stared back with mouth dropped open. He couldn't help it. What the honest fuck?
Keith chuckled as he set the weight bar down one-handed, getting a whistle from Shiro. "Impressive, eh Sharpshooter?" he asked, giving Lance a wink.
Was Keith fucking flirting with him? What the hell was going on? "No," he retorted stubbornly, obviously lying.
Three more weight adjustments and Shiro started to struggle. Keith still wasn't hesitating at all when he picked up the weights. Nor was he breaking a sweat. Didn't Galra not fucking sweat at all.
Shiro gave up after two more adjustments. Keith had no trouble lifting that weight at all, so Pidge kept jumping up the intervals until Keith struggled to pick one up. Lance didn't want to know the last adjusted weight – the one Keith couldn't lift.
Lance stood and joined Keith and Shiro on the mat. At least he'd had a nice long rest before the next trial began. He wanted to give up and join Pidge, Hunk, and Allura up in the control room. But he was determined to beat Keith at something. Anything. Maybe the next one would do.
Okay, when Pidge announced an obstacle course, he clapped his hands together. He was good at climbing, did pseudo-parkour as a pre-teen (not saying he was good or talented, but he could do some moves). He was agile and he thought maybe Shiro wasn't as agile because of his body type. Keith might be. He was small and compact, but Lance knew he would probably be better at jumping heights than Keith.
He was wrong.
Oh, so wrong.
So, okay. With the ears and fur and tails some of the Galra had, Lance kind of always pictured them as cats. Or feline-like. But Jesus, Keith was really like a cat as he made his way through the obstacle course first. Lance knew he would be able to make the jumps, they were high. He doubted Shiro would be able to make a couple of them. But he never thought short Keith – number four according to Coran, taller only than Pidge – to make the first over-the-wall jump. He was convinced Keith would have to use the slightly slower method of the knotted rope off to the side and do a sort of rope climb. Nope. The little shit did a short run to the wall and jumped. Not just jumped, but vaulted to the top, lightly resting his hand on the top as he swung his legs over and landed with a soft thump on the other side.
"Impressive…" Shiro murmured next to him.
Of course it fucking was. It put to shame Olympic high-jumpers. What the honest fuck?
Keith, of course, made it through the obstacle course quickly and without, once again, breaking a sweat. Shiro, as Lance predicted, struggled through it. Shiro was better at hand-to-hand combat and sheer strength, but his agility was pretty low. He made it through by sheer determination, but he wasn't as fast as Keith. Nor did he clear obstacles – high jumps or crawling through tunnels – as fast as Keith. Keith was like a slippery fox as he weaseled his way through each tunnel and rope and wall obstacle.
Lance was proud of himself that he did as well as he did on the course, but he didn't jump as high as Keith. He didn't need the rope climbs on the high walls, but he could only jump high enough to get his hands on the top ledge and crawl over, which slowed him down a little. If he could vault as Keith could, he knew he'd nearly match Keith's time.
He didn't though. Close, but not close enough for his satisfaction. One more thing Keith bested him at.
Why the hell did he agree to this?
"Take a break, guys. We'll do the last test once you've rested," Pidge called over the overhead speakers.
'Like Keith needs a rest,' Lance thought miserably to himself. He trudged over to the water pouch supply and pulled three out. He handed one each to Shiro and Keith (cause he wasn't an asshole) and the three of them went to the edge of the arena to sit on the floor.
Lance felt irritation rise when Keith flopped next to him. He had hoped he would be able to rest away from Supercat and SuperShiro. He slurped at his water pouch, glaring at a spot in front of him on the floor, trying not to listen to Shiro compliment Keith about his awesome speed, awesome strength, and awesome agility. Fine, Keith was freaking awesome. Everyone knew now.
"Good work from you, too, Lance," Shiro said, raising his voice to get Lance's attention.
'Right,' Lance thought bitterly. He was great, wasn't he? He wasn't fast when he thought he was. He wasn't strong when he thought he was at least as strong as Keith. He wasn't agile like he thought he was. He was a failure at everything. Of course, Pidge didn't plan any type of shooting accuracy stuff. There was nothing planned where he could show he was good at one fucking thing. Aloud, he grunted in acknowledgment of Shiro's statement.
"I mean it, Lance. You're pretty fast. You could probably make a track team or something," Shiro tried again.
"I was on track. At the Garrison," Lance said shortly.
"What, as the water boy?" Keith teased. Shiro murmured something in a disappointed tone Lance couldn't hear.
"No!" Lance snapped, shooting a glare at the grinning jerk beside him. "I was ranked first at most meets. I broke records."
"Good thing I never joined the team then," Keith badgered him.
Lance felt his anger rising. He scooted forward a bit to turn to Keith, ready to punch his stupid, gorgeous face.
"No fighting," and that was in Shiro's threatening Dad tone, so Lance backed slightly down. Keith laughed and nudged his shoulder against Lance's once Lance settled back against the wall.
What the fuck? Why was Keith acting like this?
Shiro and Keith chatted a bit while Lance sucked on the straw of his water pouch, focused on the ground visible between his knees. When Keith had nudged his shoulder, he didn't move away, so the warm pressure point against his skin was distracting him. He had to wear a tank top, didn't he? He had no idea what Keith was saying to Shiro. Or what Shiro said back. Just that point of contact screaming at him and making his brain go fuzzy. He mentally urged Pidge to start the next humiliation round so he could stand up and get away from Keith without it looking strange.
"Alright, gentlemen," Pidge's voice, laced with sarcasm as it bounced around the arena, "let's get this last experiment out of the way. This is a distance and endurance test."
Lance suppressed a sigh but was happy to jump up to his feet and get away from Keith. Keith, who gave him a little smirk as he got to his own feet. An agile jump where the asshole didn't use his hands on the floor to give him leverage. Oh no, the little cat moved swiftly from sitting on his ass to standing on his feet without a grunt. Lance wanted to strangle him.
"So, you'll notice the outside of the arena looks like a circular track. This is the best I can do to make it a 10K run. I want to see how long it takes you to either accomplish it or tap out."
"I give you about 2K before you tap out," Keith said as he stretched one of his legs to the side.
Lance had run many long-distance runs before. He did cross-country and track at the Garrison. Ran with his twin in many 5K, 10K, and marathon-length races. Had a slew of medals hanging on his bedroom wall at home gained from completing runs or winning them. And while he knew it had been a while since he had run such a race, he also knew that he'd have no problem. He was irritated that Keith's time would probably be much better than his. He didn't even consider Shiro in his narrowed-eye glare at Keith.
He lifted his foot behind him, grabbing it with his hand and pressing it against his butt to stretch, noting how Keith's eyes followed the movement. That was new. "I'll have you know, Mullet, I'm a long-distance runner, so you have some competition at least for this one."
Keith snorted, glancing back up into Lance's eyes. Lance stared, as always captured by the dark color. Keith flipped his hair back from his forehead and frowned. "It's not a mullet."
"Business in the front, party in the back. That's a mullet. Not like you party much."
"It's long all over. It's not a mullet," Keith growled. "I party plenty."
"I'd say you'd probably party plenty…" Lance drawled, "…if you ever pulled the stick out of your ass long enough."
Keith's fists clenched and Lance tensed to dodge if he swung, though Keith had never physically attacked him. There was a first time for everything. "I do not have a stick up my ass."
"Could have fooled me. Either that or you need something else up there." Holy shit, where did that line come from? He couldn't believe he had suggested such a thing to Keith. Yeah, he suspected Keith swung that way, but way to step over the line there, Lance.
It was worth it to see the way Keith's face lit up with a dark red color. His eyes flashed – even turning slightly yellow, which was pretty cool to see actually. It reminded Lance that Keith wasn't fully human, but the way Galra features appeared when Keith was emotional was new.
Shiro's slight chuckle from behind Keith where he was stretching darkened Keith's blush more. Then, surprising to Lance, Keith sputtered out with a challenge in his glance, "What, are you offering?"
Lance felt his mouth drop open as his cheeks heated up. He stuttered a few non-sensical words but didn't have a response, nor time to form one. Pidge ordered them to their starting points before he could.
Flustered beyond belief now, because, yes, Lance wouldn't mind if Keith thought he was offering. Wouldn't mind if Keith took him up on his offer. Who was he kidding? He wanted very much for Keith to take him up on the offer. He'd thought that for a long time, but never had Keith blatantly, or even remotely, flirted with him or ever hinted he thought of Lance as anything more than an annoying teammate he had to put up with because he had no choice.
Lance stomped over to one of the starting blocks, his own hands clenched into fists and his heart beating a mile a minute. Shit, not a good way to start a race. He took a few deep breaths as he stood waiting for Shiro and Keith to take their marks. Calm yourself. You know the strategy for long-distance. Pacing yourself. You can do this, he repeated to himself.
He pressed his feet into the blocks as he bent over, readying himself to go. Pidge, as she had done for the sprints, yelled "On your marks. Get set," and Lance straightened his legs slightly for the push-off, "Go!"
Keith bolted ahead of him and Shiro, and Lance ground his teeth together. He'd better watch it or he'd grind his teeth down to the fucking gums at this rate. Pace yourself, pace yourself, he chanted in his mind. This is endurance, not speed.
Keith didn't seem to realize that. He raced ahead and was soon far ahead of both Shiro and Lance, who ran side by side for the first lap. Keith lapped them once. Then again. Lance had been lapped four times by the time he made it around twice. He ignored that, however. It wasn't about speed. Endurance. Slow and steady wins the race, didn't it?
Shiro started falling behind, which was a slight surprise to Lance, as he figured level-headed and near superman-type Shiro would have more stamina. Lance simply kept his steady pace, getting into the meditative mind state he always did during his cross country runs. The only thing missing was the music he liked to listen to. But the steady slap of his feet against the floor of the arena, the sounds of Shiro panting behind him, and the increasingly ragged breathing of Keith every time he lapped Lance provided a sufficient musical accompaniment.
Keith slowed. It was slight, at first, but he didn't lap Lance again. Shiro fell further behind. Lance's pace remained the same. Lance had made ten laps around the track, lapping Shiro finally, and Keith was at thirteen. As Lance rounded the third corner, Keith was ahead of him, now down to a slow jog. Lance easily caught up with him and passed. He caught Keith's startled glance, expended enough energy to shoot a smirk at his rival. He wasn't going to waste any of his running strength on saying anything (as much as he wanted to).
It took two more laps before Keith stumbled to a stop, bending over with hands braced on his knees. When Lance passed him, he could hear how hard Keith was breathing. He refrained from saying anything or making a face again. He couldn't help but be pleased that Shiro, though well behind Lance as far as distance, was still in the game. Both he and Shiro outlasted Keith.
About time Keith failed at something.
Lance was in the zone and lapped Shiro again. He could hear the heavy breathing of the older man and did waste an encouraging expression for his leader. He heard a gasping chuckle from Shiro, who slowed to a stop once Lance passed him. He noticed Keith had slumped against the wall on the other side of the arena, sucking on a water pouch as he brushed sweaty hair out of his eyes.
Lance tried not to feel self-conscious as he rounded the track which would bring him closer to Keith. He could sense the dark eyes following his progress and his cheeks heated up as he jogged past, but he couldn't let the intense look break his determination to finish. He was thankful he knew he hardly showed any signs of fatigue.
It startled him when Pidge called out the 10k mark. He slowed to a stop and looked up at the control room where he could see Pidge and Allura peering down at the arena through the glass. Pidge called out his time, but it was with Altean measurements, so he wasn't quite sure if it matched or bested his usual times back when he was on the track team. He bent over to stretch his tired muscles. At least he beat Keith. And Shiro. In one thing.
"Thanks, guys! Come on up and check out the results, if you want!" Pidge invited.
As if Lance wanted to do that. He snorted to himself. Not a chance in hell. Look at the proof of how pathetic he was? He didn't need to see the hard data. He already knew it. Didn't Keith tell him often enough? Didn't Pidge constantly dig him about it? Yeah. Seeing the numbers would just make him feel more like shit. No thanks.
Keith had somewhat recovered from the exertion. Shiro was still cooling down and stretching his tired limbs. "Want to go up, Keith?" Shiro asked. Lance had sat on the floor and was stretching to touch his toes.
"Yeah. I'd like to see what Pidge comes up with."
Lance's forehead was on his knees and his hands had hold of the arches of his feet. The stretch felt good, so he held the pose, breathing into it. "Joining us Lance?" Shiro asked. He had paused next to Lance on his way toward the door to the stairwell that led to the control room.
Without lifting his head, Lance hummed. "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."
"Alright. Good job on the last test, by the way," Shiro praised him.
"Thanks," Lance said half-heartedly.
As soon as the door closed behind Keith, Lance stood up and went out the opposite door leading to the corridor.
"I've already started compiling the results. It's pretty fascinating," Pidge said, her fingers flying over the keypad of the computer. Keith couldn't believe how quickly Pidge had adjusted to understanding the Altean language. He had no idea what anything on the screen said.
"You're a beast, Keith," Hunk said, bent over with a hand leaning on the counter to look at the screen as Pidge entered data. "I mean, I knew you were awesome at everything, but wow. That was amazing to watch."
As competitive as Keith was, he was embarrassed by the praise. He didn't do anything special to earn it. Sure, he trained all the time, but when he found out he was half-Galra, it made sense that a lot of his abilities had to do with his own DNA. He wasn't special, and, in fact, knew he would fall short of many of the Galra. Especially the highly-trained Blade. He'd had a hard time keeping up with them. His saving grace there was his size. He was more nimble and fast, whereas Galra bulk usually slowed them down.
Pidge launched into a lecture about Keith's abilities, mentioning at the start that she'd like to examine blood samples and his DNA to try and isolate the genes that contributed to his makeup. He gave her a non-committal grunt. He wasn't about to become a test subject. Running a series of tests such as they had was one thing. Checking out his blood and genetic material was another. He'd only agreed to the tests so he could have a fun competition with Lance. Shiro there was a bonus. He loved to compete against Shiro – always had ever since they met. It felt good to test himself against someone like Shiro.
But, Lance. Lance was a whole other story. He loved to compete against Lance, too. Lance made it exciting. And a challenge. Lance tried so hard, and more times than Keith would like to admit, Lance gave him a run for his money. Keith knew if he didn't have enhanced capabilities from his Galra half, Lance would surpass him with sheer determination and skill.
He knew it was stupid to boast and taunt Lance, but he loved how their dynamic worked. One of the many things he loved about his rival was their give-and-take. Loved their banter, especially when it turned into something that could be construed into something else. Disguising it as "Banter™️" allowed Keith more freedom in what he said to Lance. His version of flirting, since he couldn't do it like a normal person. It was fun, and Lance was a worthy opponent. Or, at least, with banter Keith could occasionally fluster the Blue Paladin. If it were regular flirting, Keith was sure he wouldn't be able to manage anything, let alone best Lance at it.
He allowed himself a small smile. He liked to think they were flirting when they went at each other. Certainly, what they said to each other today was typical of their back and forth. Keith had kicked it up a notch when Lance offered an opening. He was embarrassed, of course, at Lance's insinuation of sticking something else up his ass, especially after Shiro's chuckle. However, he'd decided in the heat of the moment to see what Lance's reaction would be to him blatantly stating what he hoped.
"What, are you offering?"
Keith couldn't believe the audacity of himself for saying that. He wouldn't have if he hadn't seen the expression Lance made right after saying what he said. He couldn't exactly interpret it, but his vague interpretation was that Lance wanted to do just that. His reaction was everything Keith hoped for. Maybe after this data interpretation thing Pidge was doing (that he totally was paying attention to…not) he and Lance could continue that conversation. At the least, Keith could tell Lance how in love with him he was. It was long overdue anyway.
He turned to shoot the other paladin a grin. A 'no harm done' sort of grin. Only. Lance wasn't there. He looked around and didn't see him. Lance usually stood next to Keith whenever the team gathered together. To not see the lanky form next to him made him feel off.
"Where's Lance?" Keith asked, interrupting whatever Pidge was explaining about the numbers on the screen.
Pidge frowned at the interruption and answered with a shrug. Hunk went over to the window overlooking the arena and pressed his fingers and nose against it. "Huh. He's not down there."
Allura leaned around Pidge and pressed a few spots on the control panel, calling up the castle surveillance. She and Pidge scrolled through the feeds until they spotted Lance, slinking along the hallway to their rooms. The camera angle only showed Lance from the back, and it was a brief glance anyway, as the boy palmed open the door to his room and went inside.
"At least we know he's alright," Allura said, closing the screens and bringing back Pidge's statistics.
The others returned their attention to Pidge, but Keith crossed his arms and glared down at the floor. Something didn't seem right. Lance completely kicked ass in the last test. Shouldn't he be up here shoving it in Keith's face? Maybe he hurt himself or something during one of the tests? No. It couldn't be. After all, he ran the equivalent of a 10k race. No small feat. Keith never had the stamina for long-distance running. Not that long of a distance, anyway.
Despite his thoughts, he smiled slightly. It was amazing to watch Lance run the last test. Keith certainly hadn't expected him to complete it. Lance always tried to weasel out of training or anything which required effort. Or, at least it seemed that way. At the beginning of their adventure, it was difficult to get him out of bed in the morning, let alone expend energy fighting bots or sparring with the other paladins.
Keith knew, however, Lance was scrappy and good in a fight. He may not be as strong or as quick as the others, but he always stuck it out, always had a plan (good plans too – his strategical thinking was off the charts), and don't get Keith started on his shooting skills. Lance was an all-around good soldier if Keith thought about themselves as soldiers. Not only excelling at marksmanship but also competent at everything he needed to be a good fighter.
Sure, Lance hadn't beaten him or Shiro on the tests Pidge designed, but Pidge didn't design any tests that specifically worked with Lance's skills. A little unfair on her part. He didn't think Pidge did it maliciously – she was testing Keith's skills, not Lance's. And it made sense to test against other subjects. He was sure if Pidge designed tests that measured Lance's particular skill sets against others, he would have excelled.
Still, Keith thought, maybe it bruised Lance's ego a little to lose at all but one of the tests. But he was so amazing in the long-distance race. The way his body moved easily around the track, not expending one more ounce of energy than was needed. A smooth, steady gait, no talking, arms close to the body as he ran – not fast, but steady. It was beautiful to watch.
And Keith appreciated his beauty as he stood to the side recovering from his effort, smiling every time Lance passed him. Checking out the way his ass moved. And those legs. God damn, those legs. Strong, but lean. And long. They seemed to go on for miles. Sue a guy for wanting to have those legs wrapped around his waist.
He paid no attention to Pidge after that.
"How is he so fucking perfect?" Lance asked, his voice bouncing around in a slight echo. It was drowned by the shower – the Castleship had the best showers. Always the perfect temperature, never went cold, and high pressure. As if the water could beat away his humiliation and defeat. He hoped it could. He stood in it long enough.
The bonus? He found the shower, which shot out of the walls instead of the typical above-the-head setup found on Earth (so much more efficient and felt a million times better), had what he only guessed was aromatherapy. The same essential oils weren't available in space that were on Earth, but he'd found several oils that smelled delicious and stocked up on their last run. Pouring a couple of drops into a small collecting basin by the shower controls turned the steamy, hot water into a delightful shower of the senses.
It was relaxing, and he loved taking long, hot showers. Especially when he felt like shit. He wasn't even cleaning himself. He stood in the center of the shower stall and let the water hit him from all four sides. Heavenly. He'd chosen a scent which reminded him of lavender and orange. Not the combination he thought would work, but it did. He glanced at the shelf of his beauty products, wondering if it was worth going through the motions.
He did. His routine did much to soothe his hurt feelings. It didn't make them go away, because he couldn't get the image of Keith ahead of him again and again that day. Always ahead. No matter what they did. Always ahead of him in school. Always the best Paladin. Always outdoing him no matter how much Lance tried.
It was so frustrating. How could Keith ever see him as an equal? Or as someone worth loving? He couldn't keep up with Keith. He was always lagging. Lance didn't even want to beat him anymore. He only wanted to be good enough to walk with Keith, not ten steps behind.
He wanted to be worthy of the dark-haired, broody Paladin.
Lance knew skills on the battlefield weren't the basis for a great relationship, but Keith would never look at him if Lance couldn't even be there next to him. Keith would never see Lance for who he was if he had to turn around to look.
He scrubbed at his skin with the equivalent of a loofah he'd found somewhere, trying to wash off the stink of failure. It wouldn't come out. It never came out. He'd been scrubbing at his skin for that reason for more years than he could count. It was always there.
Always telling him he was nothing and never would be.
Lance hated when his thoughts spiraled like this. There wasn't anything he could do. Crying on Hunk's shoulder was his preferred method, but Hunk was always so busy now. He had no idea how long it had been since they'd had a sleepover – piling pillows and blankets on one of their beds, sneaking snacks from the kitchens, treating themselves to face masks, and just being together.
Hunk had Pidge now. The two shared a brain cell and worked so well together. Lance didn't understand most of the stuff that came out of Hunk or Pidge's mouth, and they never bothered to explain it to him. Even when he expressed interest in learning (and he did want to learn), it always seemed to be a bother to them, so he'd stopped asking questions. Stopped hanging out with them.
It left him without his proverbial shoulder to cry on. Left him without his best friend.
Shit, he was crying. Now his eyes would be all red and he didn't want anyone to think he'd cried because Keith beat him. Again. It was part of it, but it was so much more. He didn't want to appear petty. Why give them more reason to think he was pathetic?
He'd shown them proof enough this afternoon. He didn't need them to think he'd run off to cry about it. Was he? Sort of. But, mostly he was crying because he was lonely and in love with someone who'd never notice him. After all, he was a worthless being who didn't deserve someone as awesome as Keith.
Keith deserved awesome. And while Lance would give Keith the universe if only he could, Keith would never think of him that way. Never think of him at all. Keith was forward-looking and striving ahead toward his goals.
He had no time to turn around and look at what was behind him.
Lance saw no one in the halls as he snuck down the corridors leading to the kitchen. Okay, he may have taken it to extremes, and it reminded him of those old spy movies Papa liked to watch. At each corner, he'd press his back to the wall and slide along it slowly, then peek his head around the edge of the wall to look down the next corridor. It took forever this way, but he didn't want to see anyone.
He also hoped no one was monitoring the camera feeds because he knew he looked suspicious as hell the way he was acting. He didn't want to run into anyone on his trek to find food. Specifically, he didn't want to run into Keith. However, he'd skipped dinner with the others and felt starved, his stomach voicing it's complaints loudly to him. He'd decided to sneak into the kitchen and find some leftovers or something to eat.
His luck held. Since he took off without speaking to anyone, he had no idea what the plans were for the evening. The one thing he could count on, however, was Keith was probably back in the training room. Keith only ever seemed to be there or in his room when he had downtime. Back when Lance, Hunk, and Pidge would gather in the lounge, it was rare to see Keith there with them.
So Lance counted on at least not running into Keith. The way to the kitchen went nowhere near the training room, so there was little to no chance of meeting him. He figured he could handle talking to the others briefly before finding a way to flee, but he had no cause to do so. The coast was clear.
He pushed the door to the kitchen open, slowly again. He wasn't taking chances at all. The lights were still on, but that didn't mean anything. Most of the castleship lights were automatic, so someone had probably been in there recently, and it had yet to reach the time where they shut off with no movement in the room. It made sense if someone had stayed to clean up.
It looked like it had. No remains from the dinner were still out. Sometimes Hunk kept leftovers on the counter – depending on the food – in case someone got the hungries after dinner. He'd then put them away for safekeeping before bed. But the counters were clear and no dirty dishes remained in the Altean style sink. Good. He'd grab something from the fridge and hurry back to his room.
Lance crept across the kitchen, dodging around the counter, to the oblong door that covered the Altean fridge. He was fascinated by the appliance – it was nothing like he'd ever seen at home. The closest he'd seen were those smart fridges some people he'd gone to school with had. Each shelf had a different temperature, and you had to know exactly which food went where or you'd waste a lot of your groceries.
And, you had to enter a code for it to open. It was annoying because Hunk often changed it to play a prank on the others. The worst time was when Hunk changed it, then went on a mission with Pidge for a whole day and no one could get into the refrigeration unit, and they were all grumpy and starving by the time Hunk returned – a very contrite Hunk who apologized by making them all a big, delicious dinner.
Lance hoped Hunk hadn't decided to play the prank today. He was not in the mood for goo from the spout in the wall. Sticking his tongue out a little he pressed in the latest code. 'Victory!' he thought as the door swung open. He shimmied in a little victory dance, shaking his hips a little as he looked over the shelves. Alright, time to decide. He took containers out, peeking into them. Some made it onto the counter next to the fridge, others were put back with a disgusted face.
After the fridge door closed, Lance stacked the containers on top of each other in a couple of piles. Should he eat here or take it back to his room? His room sounded like a better option. Less chance for anyone interrupting him, though he doubted anyone would come back to the kitchen so soon after dinner. 'Still, it's a lot to carry through the halls,' he thought as he bent to collect all the containers in his arms.
"Need a hand with all that?"
Lance screeched in the middle of standing up, sending the containers in every direction. They rained down on the counter and floor around him. A few burst open, spewing their contents. Lance spun around, clutching at his chest, to see Keith leaning against the counter looking cool and casual and hot. Ugh. Asshole.
"What the fuck, Keith?!" he choked out.
The side of Keith's mouth quirked up in a half-smile that hit Lance's heart harder than the scare did. Keith had his arms crossed, biceps straining the short sleeves of his black t-shirt. 'Unfair unfair unfair,' Lance chanted in his head.
"Sorry if I scared you."
"Startled, Keith. Startled me," Lance insisted. His heart still raced, but he squatted down to pick up the containers at his feet.
Keith pushed off the counter and retrieved a couple of towels from a drawer. Without a word, he got on his knees to wipe up the mess on the floor. Lance tossed the empty containers into the sink. The ones that didn't break open he stuck back up on the counter. "You don't have to clean that," he mumbled.
"It's my fault you dropped them," Keith said in a reasonable tone, wiping at a smear of some sort of sauce. "Least I can do."
Lance simply grunted. Thankfully the mess wasn't too bad and the clean-up went quick. That may or not be because Lance scrambled as fast as possible to gather up his food. He had to get out of this room. While he normally loved banter with Keith, he knew he couldn't handle it right now.
"Looks like you're hungry," Keith commented, getting back to his feet so he could toss the towels into the sink as well. Lance wrinkled his nose as he stacked his containers again. Keith handed him the three that landed on the countertop.
"I missed dinner," Lance answered shortly.
"I noticed."
"Don't know why you would," Lance muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Why'd you skip dinner if you're so hungry?"
Lance floundered for an answer. "Uh, I…I was. I just forgot the time."
"Mmm," Keith hummed and the sound shot into Lance's ear and onto his last nerve.
He tried to ignore Keith and gather up his containers in his arms again, intent on getting out of this kitchen now. "Anyway…" Lance said, turning away. "Back to my room."
"Good job on the 10k," Keith said suddenly.
Lance paused, his back still to Keith. He hunched his shoulders up defensively, pressing his lips tightly together. "Thanks," he grated out.
"Honestly. It was pretty impressive."
Ugh. Lance hated the condescension in Keith's voice. Right. Impressive. He could run a long time. Woo, something to be super proud of. God, Keith saying that irritated him. Did he bring it up so he could shove his own awesomeness in Lance's face? Lance decided to walk out. Ignore Keith and go back to his room without an answer, so he could stuff his face with too much food and eat away his depression.
"Don't patronize me," he said instead.
"Patronize you?"
Lance's posture sagged some and he tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling. "Yeah. I'm not in the mood."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You're awesome at everything. I…we get it." Lance heard the bitterness in his voice and regretted it. Yes, Keith was awesome, but Lance was honest enough with himself to acknowledge Keith wasn't the type to be arrogant about it. He wasn't the type to be arrogant about anything. Maybe at the beginning of all this, Lance thought it, but he'd gotten to know Keith, so he knew better.
Keith was quiet and shy. Awkward. Not very socially aware. Lance misinterpreted that for arrogance at the Garrison, but living and working with Keith, he came to understand what kind of person Keith was. Arrogant was not a word Lance would apply to him. Confident in his abilities, sure, but not arrogant.
"I don't understand."
Lance let out a long breath, trying not to make it sound like a sigh. "Nevermind."
"No. Don't do that. If you're…if you're upset with me, tell me why."
The other paladin sounded pleading. It wasn't something Lance often heard in Keith's tone. "I'm not mad at you."
"You didn't come up to the control room in the arena. You didn't come to dinner. You won't even look at me now and you're trying to run away."
"Why would I want to go up to the control room?" Lance asked. "To see the stats on how pathetic I am? I already know, so why should I go up and hear it."
Silence fell on the kitchen, a heavy silence that made Lance feel worse than he already felt. He waited a few minutes before shifting his weight to start moving again.
"You're not pathetic." Keith's quiet voice stopped him mid-shift. It was like Keith had smacked him with a bat. His mouth went dry and he couldn't swallow.
"Keith…" he rasped out.
"You…you're amazing."
Lance snorted. "Amazing. Yeah. Sure."
"I don't understand," Keith said and, though Lance didn't turn around, he could clearly picture in his mind the confused look on Keith's face. It was one of his favorite expressions because a confused Keith was a very cute Keith. But then, Keith was cute all the time. Lance shook the thought out of his head when Keith added, "You don't think you are? You brag all the time."
"You know what? I don't want to have this conversation right now," Lance spat out.
"But…"
"No," Lance cut him off. He finally turned around. Yep, there was that cute expression, eyebrows drawn together above that adorable little pout. And yes! Even the arms crossed! "I know I suck, Keith. I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it."
"No…"
"Oh, come on! You saw me in there!" His arms were full, so he swung his upper body to point his limbs in the vague direction of the training room. "You see me every day. I'm the worst. I don't need Pidge's fucking stats to know it!"
"Lance…"
"What?"
"How can…how can you think that?"
"Cause, contrary to popular belief, I'm not stupid."
"Nobody said you're stupid."
"Everyone says it."
"I've literally never heard anyone say that."
"You don't have to say 'you're stupid' to let me know that's what you think. You all treat me like I'm some idiot fumbling his way through life."
"I have never treated you like that!"
"You have, Shiro has, Allura has, Pidge…" and he gulped back a sob. "Even Hunk does."
"I've teased you," Keith protested. "But I thought we were joking."
Lance scoffed. "It's not a joke to me." He looked down and to the side. "I got that a lot when I first started at the Garrison. I didn't…I didn't speak English perfectly. Like, I was okay, but not fluent or anything, so people thought I was dumb. Everyone acted like that." He drew in a breath. "Then I get here and because I'm not some super genius like Pidge or Hunk, I get the same shit."
"I'm not a super genius, either."
"No, but you're superhuman. You're the best at everything."
"That's…that's not true. You beat me in the 10k!"
"So I can run longer. Big deal."
"And you're accurate with your guns. You're learning a sword and you're good at it." Keith uncrossed his arm, holding up one of his hands to stop Lance's protest. "You're great in battle, Lance. One of the bravest people I've seen. There's nobody I trust more than you to fight next to me. No one has my back like you. You have a…a…" he scrunched his expression again. "A way of seeing the big picture. I'm not sure I'm saying it right. But you read situations fast and come up with a strategy on the fly. Not everyone can do that, but you do. It's…it's amazing."
Lance's mouth dropped open slightly. More because Keith was the one saying these things. He'd had no idea Keith thought of him like that.
"You're amazing," Keith repeated. "You're funny and kind. You have this way of making people feel better. The way you pay attention to everyone and take care of everyone. I notice it." They stood, staring at each other across the space between them. Lance could see Keith struggled with something, the way his mouth twisted and opened a few times, then shut. He held his breath, wondering what it was Keith couldn't seem to say. "I-I…I've always thought you were amazing," he finally stuttered out, glancing to the side.
Was Keith…blushing? Why would he blush? Why would he say that? Lance couldn't bring himself to believe Keith meant anything by it. Did he? The blush brightened the longer Lance didn't respond and Lance couldn't do anything but stare at Keith. A million thoughts ran through his struggling mind and he couldn't grasp one of them that made any sense.
"Huh?" was the only thing he could manage to grunt out.
Keith shifted on his feet. He seemed to be thinking once again, chewing on his lower lip.
"Keith?"
"I don't understand why you can't see yourself the way I do."
Lance now felt his cheeks heating up. The implications of Keith's words gave him hopes he didn't want to have. "You see me like that?" he croaked out.
"I always have."
Another silence fell, broken only by the slight hum always present on the castleship. Why would Keith think those things? It was too much and his eyes stung as if tears wanted to form. "I-I'm not any of that," he stammered.
Keith finally looked back at him, his dark eyes intense now, though the blush remained. "You're all that and more."
"Keith…"
"I wish I knew you felt…like this. I'd have told you every day how amazing you are." The way Keith said it gave Lance pause. The tone and expression on Keith's reddened face were determined. Nervous. Hesitant. Earnest. All of those at once. It sounded like a confession almost. "I want to tell you every day."
It was. A lot. Lance started blinking fast and felt his lower lip tremble slightly. He had no idea what was going on. "You're the amazing one. You proved what we all knew today. I'm nothing compared to you. I'm always behind…"
"No. No…" Keith said. He took a few steps closer to Lance, who backed away a couple of steps. "You're never behind me."
"But, I am. I can't keep up with you. You're always ahead of me."
Keith's brow furrowed into the scowl Lance loved so well. "No…"
Then Lance's brain, which liked to betray him at the worst times, made him say, "How can you notice anything about me when I can't keep up?"
Oh shit, how pathetic did his voice sound? God, he sounded like he was begging.
Yet, Keith's mouth quirked into a small smile, smoothing out his brow. "You're about the hardest person in the world to not notice," he said. "And how can you think you can't keep up? Didn't you say we were rivals? Keith and Lance, neck and neck?"
"We've never been that," Lance said, looking to the side at the interesting view of the plain counter. "I've always been in your shadow."
"You put yourself there if you think that."
"Everyone put me there."
"Not me."
Lance fought the urge to throw his arms up in frustration. They were still full of the space equivalent of Tupperware. "It's always you, Keith," he ground out from between clenched teeth. "Everything is you you you. You never noticed me. You never gave me the time of day. Never acknowledged me."
"Lance," he sighed. "I was kind of messed up at the Garrison. I didn't notice anyone. Except you."
"Right…"
"It's true," Keith insisted, stepping another step closer. Lance stepped another step back, bumping into the corner of the counter. Trapped.
"You never even turned around to look at me."
"I looked at you all the time," he took one more step closer, but Lance couldn't back away anymore. "Whenever you weren't looking at me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Keith was so close to him now. Lance glanced side to side, finally deciding to slide along the counter to the right. Maybe if he threw the Space Tupperware at Keith, he could vault over the equivalent of a kitchen island and escape out of the door. If he got a good enough head start, he should be able to outrun Keith. Hey, maybe the long-distance running thing would be an asset. He tried not to think of how long it took Keith to tire out. He'd need a really good head start. He was mentally calculating how far he could get and noting various hiding places in his head when he realized Keith had put his hands on the counter on each side of him.
"What do you think I mean?" Shit, when did Keith ever have a smooth tone like this? It sounded flirty, but it couldn't be. Fuck, throwing the Space Tupperware wasn't an option now. It certainly wouldn't have the impact he wanted being tossed a few inches as opposed to hurling them at Keith from feet away. Oh. Maybe he could dump the contents of one of them on Keith's head!
It would take some talented maneuvering, but he could probably do it. Lance tried to creep one hand to a container on the top of the pile. The pile wobbled precariously. "I don't have time for guessing games," he groused.
Keith snatched the container off the top of the pile and tossed it on the counter. Quiznak, he must have guessed Lance's intention. He definitely did, because in a few minutes, in a flurry of ninja movements that brought another scowl to his face, Keith had divested him of all of his Space Tupperware.
Was he going to have to resort to a knee to Keith's junk? He didn't want to, of course, but he was running out of options.
The hands returned to the counter. Fuck, Keith was way too close. Lance didn't need the inside of Keith's arms pressing against the outside of his. He didn't need the way Keith looked at him, tilting his head slightly up, and when did Keith gain height on him?
"Let's see. I think you're amazing, and all the other stuff I said, and I've been watching you ever since the Garrison. What on earth, or," he shot a cute, little pout at Lance. God, he wanted to either punch his pout or kiss it. "What in space? Could that mean?"
Lance leaned back as far as he could, pressing his back painfully into the edge of the counter. That knee to the groin thing was looking better.
"I can't tell what goes on under that mullet," Lance spat.
Keith hummed. Or purred? It sounded more like a purr and Lance could feel the vibrations through the contact of their arms. Fuck, he was a Space Cat! Lance wondered briefly if Keith had fur in any fun places he could pet. But the thought was short-circuited as Keith pressed closer, their chests now touching lightly and Lance could feel the purr more.
With a brief dip of the eyes down to Lance's lip, Keith bit his own with pointy fangs. "I like you," Keith said simply.
"You like me?" Lance choked.
"I even love you. And, I'm gonna kiss you now, if that's okay?"
Lance spluttered, casting around for some sort of coherent answer, but Keith was impatient, as he always was, and surged up to mush his lips against Lance's. Lance had no idea what to do. Okay, he knew what to do, but not when it was Keith's warm mouth eagerly kissing him. It was a terrible kiss on his part because he stayed frozen and couldn't respond.
Thankfully, Keith didn't keep it going for long. "You aren't kissing back," and shit how the tone of his voice shot right down into Lance's pants. "I hope you're a better kisser than that if we're gonna do this a lot."
He spluttered again, aware of how unattractive it made him appear. "Wh-what the fuck? The fuck? You-you k-kissed. I can't. I. Fuck. K-Keith." His knee lifted a little but it wasn't aimed right to get Keith in the stones. Fuck, it just nudged against Keith's thigh. "And, yes, I'm a better kisser!"
Keith listened to him with a slight smile. "Prove it, Sharpshooter," he challenged.
Oh, Keith had said the magic words. Don't challenge Lance McClain if you're not prepared for it! He'd prove it! He slapped his palms sharply against Keith's cheeks, the smack echoing through the kitchen, and yanked Keith's face to him. Oh, he'd give Keith the best kiss of his fucking life! It was rough and aggressive and Lance dove in with the sort of determination and recklessness usually displayed by Keith. With a surprised sound at the back of his throat, Keith's hands moved to Lance's back, gripping the other man's t-shirt into tight, little balls. Keith pulled and tugged with both his hands and his tongue, matching Lance's sudden kiss attack with his own, trying to meld into Lance's body.
Though the kiss had been an angry, challenge thing for Lance, it soon settled into something more. More delicate and coordinated – still passionate and fire-hot, but more tender. Lance's hands relaxed against Keith's cheeks, his thumbs soothing the red marks his palms had left. He cradled Keith's cheeks, now, his fingers sliding back into the mass of dark hair, tangling there in a way he knew would be hard to extricate. Keith's hands also relaxed, his palms caressing against Lance's back, sending uncontrollable shivers up and down Lance's spine that threatened to turn him into food goo.
And, oh god, Keith's mouth. Like everything about Keith, it was perfect. Warm and wet and tasted like something from one of the containers Lance had taken from the cooling unit. But it was the way his tongue and lips moved, bites and nibbles that burst stars on Lance's lips, reminding him of champagne he was allowed to sip on New Year's Eve nights back home. Their tongues fell into a little push and pull dance, for once neither of them vying for domination, but seeking to give equal pleasure.
Keith and Lance, neck and neck. Necking.
When he thought that, Lance pulled away in shock. Fuck, he'd been kissing Keith! He stared at Keith's face, at the half-lidded eyes which slowly opened all the way, his mouth dropped slightly open, the crease between his eyes signifying confusion. Lance's fingers were still trapped in the hair at the nape of Keith's neck.
"I-I'm sorry!" he gasped.
"Why?"
"I shouldn't have done that!"
"Did you see me objecting?" Keith asked. "And, I kind of started it."
He did. He fucking did. Keith kissed him first. His flagging brain, as mushy as the food goo, was firing synapses rapidly as he backtracked what the hell had just happened, and holy fuck! Wait! Keith said he loved him!
"You love me?" he blurted out the question before his brain could stop his mouth.
Now Keith's expression morphed into uncertainty and Lance saw the return of normal Keith. An awkward young man whose social skills rivaled that of a cactus. "Yeah," he said, his tone prickly and defensive. Nothing like the smooth and deep sex machine from a few minutes ago. His body shifted, pulling slightly away, putting an inch between them. "I didn't think I was reading things wrong."
Nothing in life had prepared Lance for Keith reciprocating his feelings. Nothing. He tried to pull his hands out from Keith's hair, but it was like they were stuck in a Chinese finger trap. His first instinct was to throw up his walls, which no one would probably believe were as high and solid as Keith's, and deny everything. Push Keith away (if he could free his damn hands) and make fun of the mullethead to hide how fucking in love with him Lance was.
But why do that? Keith said he loved him. And if he wasn't simply fucking with Lance's mind, that was something, wasn't it? Something he could work with. He swallowed against a dry throat and felt his face catch fire. God, this was hard to admit to Keith.
"You didn't."
Those two little words seemed to flip Keith's world in a way Lance's tongue in his mouth didn't. His face went…softer…and brighter. His body went pliant and crowded against Lance again. "So, you like me?" Damn, Keith went from seductive to cactus back to seductive so easily.
"No," Lance sighed, and before Keith could pull away again, he grinned. "I love you, too." He tugged at Keith's hair. "But, if we're gonna be a thing, you have to start taking care of this bush on your head. My fingers are stuck."
Keith slid his hands back to dig his fingers in Lance's side, getting a loud screech as Lance yanked his fingers free of Keith's rat nest. "Ouch, you fucker!" Keith yelled. "That hurt!"
"Brush your fucking hair, you savage! And you fucking tickled me! No fair!"
"Don't make me shut you up!"
"You can't shut me up, mul…" and Keith did shut him up with his mouth. Okay, if Lance had to shut up, this was a good way to make him. He usually hated to read (not that he read a lot of romance novels, totally did not) about people melting from a kiss, but damn did he feel like he was now.
"Appears that I can," Keith purred after many minutes of exploring Lance's mouth with his tongue.
Lance tried to think of some kind of sharp remark to say, but all desire to do so was replaced by other desirous thoughts. But, he was also overwhelmed emotionally after the day of mostly lows and few highs. The highs being this moment right here. It was simply so hard to believe.
In a begging tone he knew he'd regret later, he said, "Do you really love me? You're not just fucking with me?"
Keith let out a low chuckle. "Can't it be both?"
Lance realized the unintentional innuendo and felt his whole body burn in embarrassment. Normal Lance would have continued the banter, but he was so scared this was a sick joke. "I'm serious."
"I am, too," Keith said.
"This isn't a joke?"
"Why would I joke about something like this?"
Lance opened his mouth to retort but had nothing. That was certainly not Keith. He wasn't prone to playing games. At least, not cruel ones. If anything, Keith was always brutally honest once he opened up. So, if he said he loved Lance, then he must be telling the truth, and it was something Lance could not process.
"I'm not good enough for you."
Oh shit. He'd said it. It was a rub off of Keith's honesty. Lance tended to be honest with him. Sure, he'd kept his fat, major crush (love) for Keith quiet, but Keith could always get truthful answers from him.
To make matters worse, his stupid mouth added, "I don't deserve you."
Keith's eyes flashed yellow, but otherwise, his expression didn't change. "I don't know why you've put me on this pedestal. Or say I'm ten steps ahead of you. But, I'm not. Okay, I'm better at some things than you. That's normal. You're better at some things than me. It'd be boring if we were the same, don't you see that?"
Lance shook his head. "All I see is the back of your head."
"You're looking right at my face."
He was. And, Keith loved him. Part of him screamed to crawl into some hole and hide for the rest of his life, but the warm and loving and willing man in front of him – facing him – shut that part of Lance down. Here was his chance with Keith and he'd be damned stupid if he didn't reach out and grab that mullet for all he was worth.
"Lance," Keith continued, "I've never seen you as anything but equal to me. As everything perfect and everything I've always wanted." Shy Keith returned as he glanced to the side, a slight redness to his pale cheeks. "I'd like to. I'd like to be with you if you want. I-I want. I know you say 'Keith and Lance, neck and neck', but I'd rather it be 'Keith and Lance, side by side'."
And fuck did he melt now. He felt all wobbly and soft and gooey inside. His emotions were too much, however. It's not every day your dreams come true (well, he still wasn't a galactic pop star, but he'd work on it), and while he knew he should say something as touching and romantic as Keith just had, he had to be himself. "Well…" and Keith glanced back at him when he paused. "If we're going to be boyfriends, you have to take better care of that hair."
Keith's laugh was magic to hear and see - the way Keith tossed his head back, giving over to a wide-mouthed belly laugh that Lance thought was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And while Lance knew his feelings of inadequacy would gnaw at him sometimes, knowing this amazing man loved him would certainly help. Lance vowed then and there to give Keith the universe someday. Until then, he would settle in giving Keith his whole heart.
"Boyfriends, huh?" Keith said once his laugh settled down. "I promise to take care of my hair. Scouts honor," he added, holding up his hand in what Lance assumed was the Boy Scout salute (Keith did it wrong, but Lance didn't want to point that out...yet). "If you teach me how."
"First, though, I know you're probably not hungry, but I am. Care to join me on the observation deck to watch the stars and eat leftover goo?"
"I couldn't think of a more romantic first date."
Lance gaped at him. First date? He hadn't even thought that. "Uh, sure. But, wait. No. Not first date." Keith started to frown, so Lance hastened to add, "I want to plan something better."
"Oh, um, sure," Keith said. "Or, maybe I can?"
"No offense, sweetheart," and, oh, it was cute to see Keith scrunch his face at the endearment, "but I'm the romantic one of this relationship."
"You're already claiming that title?"
"Of course."
"Well, then I'll prove you wrong and beat you at planning romantic dates!"
"Challenge accepted, mullet!"
"I'm gonna date you so hard, your head will spin."
"Bring it on!"
Lance considered it a win-win to compete with his boyfriend (!) on first date planning.
Which he was going to win, of course.
They bickered all the way to the observation deck about who would plan the best date, their arms full of Space Tupperware. It was a soft sort of bickering though, as smiles played on their lips and joy flashed in their eyes each time they met. Lance's brain was still full of disbelief that this horrible day had turned out to be the best day of his life. But his heart continually beat those thoughts out of his head, so full of love for the man beside him that it left little room for other emotions.
They paused at the door to the observation deck so Lance could juggle the containers in his arms to allow one hand to reach out the press the door panel. It slid open and they gave each other a smile, then turned their heads and walked into the room. Side by side.
AN: I wrote this as a gift for my friend, Karson, who gave me the simple prompt of Pidge running them through tests and Lance besting Keith at the long distance run. I turned what should have been a short fic into a 12k one. :D