Chapter Text
“Keith.” Shiro sounds pained, as though he’s nursing a headache and Keith is a white noise machine.
“Yes?” Keith replies innocently, fiddling with his bowtie.
“Why are you wearing a tux?”
“It feels professional.”
“And you don’t think it might be the wrong attire?”
“How so?”
“You’re a sports teacher Keith.”
“And I look good doing it.”
Shiro sighs, clearly having given up on this conversation, and also possibly life. The latter may have happened a while ago. “Make sure it doesn’t disrupt your teaching.”
Shiro walks out of the room, looking more pained than when he entered and Keith looks up to see Lance trying his hardest not to laugh. He isn’t doing very well.
“Shut up Lance.” Keith grabs his coffee and heads out the other exit, on his way to his first class. Today they were playing football. Yay.
---
“Why?” Hunk looks up at Lance as though he’s an alien imposter. Lance couldn’t blame him really. If the roles were reversed he would have done the same.
Lance shrugs. “They’re comfy.” That much wasn’t a lie at least, no matter his own fashion grievances they were dang comfortable.
“Who are you, man?” Hunk says, shaking his head.
“I’ll tell you when I know,” Lance sighs, staring down into his coffee.
---
Shiro swings by Lance’s class later to make sure that he’s drinking water, which is kind of embarrassing. He may have called him dad a couple of times, which earned lots of snickers around the class. However, five minutes later, Lance finds himself wishing things were only that bad.
There’s one massive group of students gathered around in one of the corners, and at the center is Pidge. Lance can only imagine the terrible things she could be doing.
“Hey!” Lance shouts at them, flinching at his own voice. “Break it up, this isn’t recess.” Rather than the normal groans and sighs, Lance is met with a chorus of giggles as the students split up.
“Sir,” one student comes right up to Lance and looks him in the eye as he shoves a camera in his face. “Do you believe in aliens?” Lance almost spits out his coffee. Not his finest moment.
“and how is this related to drama?” He says eventually, putting on his stern teacher voice. Not that it seems to be working particularly well at the moment.
“It’s for my documentary.”
Lance freezes, his mind desperately searching for a way out. “and what is your documentary based on?”
“The lives of our teachers.”
“and did you get permission for this?”
“You said we could base our documentaries on you if we wanted.” Shit. This is the first time anyone has ever taken Lance up on that. “I asked the other teachers involved,” they continue. “Mr Kogane said yes, along with-”
“Yes yes yes, very well,” Lance sighs. “I believe that they exist somewhere in the universe,” he replies tactfully.
“And do you believe that they’ve come to earth?”
“Not until I see proof,” Lance says. “Now back to work, or I’ll hold your whole group behind to finish at break time.”
the kid scurries off, and Lance breathes out a sigh of relief as he crumples into his chair.
From across the field, Keith has the distinct prickling feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and the collar of the tux rubs uncomfortably against him. he pushes the thought out of his mind, but makes sure he stays alert. He’s always been safe in school, but he still never lets his guard completely down. No need to be foolishly reckless.
As the students walk back to the changing rooms chattering loudly amongst themselves Keith casts a wary eye around. There’s the usual teachers milling around, some lucky ones already done with class until after lunch, and others popping in and out of classrooms to fetch things or say hello to passing friends. There’s a couple of sports teachers nearby, and Keith follows the itchy feeling to them. the man doesn’t flinch away as Keith finds him, staring unabashedly with a smirk.
The girl next to him- his sister- flutters her eyes, before winking at him and vanishing. Keith furrows his bro, unsure of what that meant. Nyma, he distantly remembers. Lance had a thing for her. probably still does, unless he’s chasing a new crush. Hell, maybe even still if he is chasing a new girl.
His mind frustratingly refuses to supply Nyma’s brother’s name, so he looks away, busying himself with the sports equipment instead. He does not want to dance through an entire conversation tying to remember a name he should have memorised months ago. at least, in his defence, he’s a newer teacher. He was hired at the beginning of this year, which Keith remembers because he had done some of his training. Nyma worked as a sports teacher, so even though the new one was a computer teacher, they thought they might see each other around or something. it hadn’t been for long, but it was definitely long enough that it would be frowned upon for Keith to have forgotten his name.
Keith stacks the balls slowly. There’s no need for him to rush any students to get dressed, it’s lunch next, and they couldn’t get out fast enough. He just has to keep an ear out and make sure nobody is being ritually sacrificed in the toilets again.
The itchy feeling intensifies, and he stands up sharply as a ball slips from his hands. He hears it stop bouncing as he looks up to see the other man right next to him, holding the dropped ball with a smirk,
“Hey Keith. Dressed to impress today huh? Girlfriend coming to visit?” Keith resolutely decides not to get flustered, instead forcing a slight laugh as he looks for a way to answer.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Is what he settles on. He fiddles with his lapels. Fuck, it was some kind of chocolate name wasn’t it? flake? Ripple? The other mans smile doesn’t waver, if anything growing in size.
“Good.” he says, and Keith looks up in confusion. “Because I was thinking, I have this extra ticket to a something, should be terrible.. me and you? Maybe we could get dinner afterwards, see where the night takes us?” that easy going smile doesn’t fade, and Keith finds himself blinking up in astonishment. That… wasn’t where he thought this was going. Despite himself he feels a blush creeping across his face. he remembers Shiro making jabs and then desperate pleas for Keith to make friends. This was… almost that. he’s agreeing before he’s even thought it through.
“Sounds like fun,” he pulls out his phone, eager to take his chance and avoid gong through an entire first date trying to remember his name. “put in your number, I’ll text you.” The other man does it with no hesitation, just a practiced ease that makes Keith wonder how many people he’s asked out. Keith has a grand total of one, and it was mostly an accident.
Keith looks down at his phone as it’s pressed back into his hand. Rolo, right, fucking of course.
Rolo flashes him what’s probably his winning smile. “I’ll see you,” he says. It sounds more like a promise than a goodbye the way he says it.