"'Kay, you really need to tell us what's going on," Pidge mutters as she pokes at her mashed potato lunch with a fork. "Otherwie I'll seriously refer you to some doctor."
Lance doesn't answer, other than showing with his shoulders in a shrug that it's really not all that serious. This time, however, is different. He can't stop moving his foot. The pounding of his heart and the flutter of his stomach makes his appetite go on leave. Underneath his skin, he wears a big smug grin. I'm going on a date with Keith.
He gets up in a hurry, taking his untouched tray with him as he tells them he'll "see them later". He had to get everything together in time for seven o'clock.
Beforehand, Keith had texted Lance the details for that night, including which restaurant they'd meet at and who would pay. To start, Keith had offered, but Lance - being his insistent self - helped them come to the agreement that both of them would pitch in.
Just as Lance steps out of his room all dressed up in best clothes, he's met face-to-face with Pidge and Razavi. He looks the two of them up and down as they do the same. "Is there something you guys need...?" he asks with uncertainty.
All of a sudden the two girls whip to look at each other; Pidge gasps and Razavi lets out a squeal. "YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE WITH ALLURA?!" they banshee-screech.
To avoid any more attention, Lance gives them a fake smile and proceeds to slip past them and down the hall. Luckily for Lance, they're both far too distracted to interrogate him. "PALADIN LOVE TRIANGLE!" Lance can hear Razavi and Pidge's synchronized woop, following a loud high-five. They can believe what they want, thinks Lance as he walks out the Garrison doors and over to his car. It's better than them knowing the truth.
Lance arrives at L'Arôme de Nourriture with half an hour to spare. He decides to get a hold of a table-for-two, stop by the washroom, and attempt making an origami napkin surprise for Keith. (...It sorta worked.)
At last, it's seven o'clock - twelve minutes past, actually - and Keith still hasn't shown up. Maybe he never meant to show up.
When the time passes seven thirty, he chooses to leave the restaurant and return to the Garrison. Besides, what's the point of eating at a table-for-two when you're alone?
During his drive back home, he hears a ping of a text from his phone. He ignores it to start until he hears several more back-to-back pings. As he comes to a stop at a red light, he pulls out his phone and frowns while reading over the messages.
GAH, SORRY LANCE
CORAN KEPT ME BACK
STILL HERE
TRAINING RN
WANNA JOIN ME?
I SWEAR I'LL PAY FOR ALL OF DINNER NEXT
HOLY SHIT PLS LANCE
WHAT R U DOING RN?!
ACK GTG
That complete son of a...
Coran cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's the matter, Lance? You do know you're training is scheduled for tomorrow, right?"
Keith halts his chin-ups at the sound of Lance's name and drops lightly on the mat below himself. He walks over to Lance with a grin, holding out a sweaty hand for a bro-shake, which Lance walks straight past and toward the mini boxing ring - recently installed by Coran. Lance turns his head to look Keith in the face. A tiny smirk creeps onto both of their faces, and they take a moment to get their giggles out before competing.
Keith shakes his head and stares at the ground, his face warm from laughing. "You're scared."
Immediately, Lance scoffs and confidently places his hands on his hips. "Scared? In your dreams, Keith." He raises his gloved fists, takes a deep breath, and looks into his opponent's determined eyes. A lively spark in them takes hold of Lance's attention in a flash.
"You ready?" asks Keith.
"Uh-huh."
The first thirty seconds mostly involved the two of them shuffling around the ring, watching each other's hands and feet, taking a few swings when possible. Lance throws a powerful kick, which Keith swiftly dodges and then returns it with a good butterfly-kick in the gut. The poor kid crumbles to the floor and curls up in agony.
"SHIT!" Keith dashes over to Lance's side in a heartbeat. ...Man, it would have been the perfect scene: the long-time crush comfortably sitting beside him, his hand gently holding his arm. Ha! If only. "Do you need ice?"
Of course Lance waves it off. He shakes his head and wheezes out, "I'm all good." Why'd he want to act like some hopeless, injured animal?
"CORAN!" his friend shouts, ignoring Lance's persistence. "Could you grab an ice pack for Lance? Oh, and Smoofy!"
Lance miraculously has the energy to turn and mutter: "Smoofy?!"
"Anything for our Sharpshooter!" Coran answers and then darts out of the gym. Keith keeps his hand on Lance's arm, but can't help letting out a chuckle.
"HOW IS THIS FUNNY?!" Lance shrieks at him. His dry throat causes him to go out into a coughing fit.
Keith grins. "Shut up. Otherwise you'll never stop coughing all over me." In satisfaction he runs a hand through his messy black hair. Instead of his genius plan to brutally elbow Keith in the gut til he begs for mercy, he starts to think to himself. He wonders if Keith is growing out his hair. I mean, it wouldn't come as a surprise. Oh, a man bun. "Your silence is worrying me."
"Hauh? Oh. Uhm..." Lance points at his friend's locks with a little grin. "How long are you planning to grow your hair?"
"Oh, my g- CORAN! Finally, you're here." He snatches the ice pack and immediately puts it into Lance's hand. "Because ice makes everything better. Put it where you need it." Then Keith hands him a squishy stuffed bunny: Smoofy. "And take this. He likes snuggles."
"Awh thank- HEY! KEITH, PUT ME DOWN!"
Keith scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. "Nah." He walks toward the gym exit with a squirming Lance in his arms, who eventually has to give up and instead enjoy the moment. Once they're out of the sweaty gym, Keith places Lance back on the ground. He looks him in the eye and says, "Thanks for the date, Sharpshooter."
Blood immediately rushes to Lance's face, and his heart nearly pounds out of his chest. "D... What?!" Keith smirks and waves him off as he makes his way past Lance.
What the heck?!