Chapter Text
Two weeks ago, he wouldn't have even touched a football. Today, however, due to his current predicament, Keith sat on the bleachers of the football field watching his university's team practice.
It wasn't his ideal afternoon, but at least the guys were hot.
Keith slouched over in his seat, running on four hours of sleep and staring intensely at the group of boys jogging around the field in their football uniforms.
He yawned, trying to concentrate and comprehend their actions, but staying awake was harder than he expected.
"Observing the plays or observing the butts?" a voice purred.
Keith jumped up out of his seat, narrowly avoiding slamming his head against the bleacher above him. Despite his sleep deprivation, his heart was racing like a horse. He looked up to see Pidge standing next to him over the bleachers, hiding their laughter with one free hand. In the other, they held a container with two coffees.
"Pidge, are you trying to kill me?" Keith sighed, allowing them to sit beside him.
Pidge looked thoughtful for a moment, before answering, "Depends. What do I get in your will?"
"Who says you're in my will?" Keith asked, attempting to grab a coffee from Pidge.
Pidge merely moved their hands to the side and put their foot on his stomach. "I'd say I am, considering you're an orphan and I'm your best friend."
Keith scoffed, managing to reach over Pidge's short legs and snagging a warm cup. "Oh please, if I die, I'm giving everything to Shiro." He inhaled the scent of the coffee. Ah, just what he needed. Even the smell was helping to wake him up.
"Even your knife?" Pidge cooed.
"Mmm, I was actually thinking of setting up a gladiator match for that. Only the strongest gets to wield it." Keith smiled into his cup. Pidge was laughing along, drinking their own coffee.
Pidge was a good friend of his. Only fourteen years old, but smart enough to get into Voltron University. There was something about Pidge that Keith liked. He admired their stubbornness; it mirrored his own, and he thought it contributed to their determination for achievement.
He couldn't help but feel a little jealous at their intellect, though. It far surpassed his own. He had never really been good with school or the educational setup. He preferred experience and action. But, at Shiro's request, he came to college. It was the least he could do after dropping out of high school and getting his GED instead.
"So, what are you doing here?" Keith asked.
Pidge looked over at him with a questioning look. "What, I can't visit my buddy and bring him a coffee?" they asked innocently.
"Considering you'd rather be in your room on the computer in the dark than out in the sunshine, I'd say it's grounds for suspicion."
Pidge snorted and took a sip of their coffee.
It grew quiet for a bit, the only noise the coach's whistle and the hustle of the players on the field. Then, Pidge answered, in a small voice. "I just needed to get out for a while, you know? And, I kind of wanted to talk to you."
Keith looked over at them. They weren't making eye contact with him. Oh no. His stomach plummeted. And things had just started to go well again.
"What did you want to talk about?" he asked hesitantly.
The whistle blew again, but it seemed much more distant now. Pidge's thumbs were caressing the cup, and they looked out at the field with a distant gaze. "You know. About what happened."
The world quieted down. Keith's pulse was steady, but it felt heavy.
"What about it?"
"I feel like, I feel..." Pidge trailed off, eyebrows furrowing.
"I feel like I'm missing something. Like there's more to it than I thought."
Keith's breathing was calm, but it seemed so prominent in the moment. "What gives you that idea?" He turned towards Pidge slightly, giving them a questioning expression.
"Well, for starters, I heard someone say he wasn't alone that night."
Keith swallowed. "What does that mean?" he asked.
Pidge shrugged their shoulders. "I dunno. A lot of things, I guess. I don't want to jump to too many conclusions, though. I just wish he'd wake up soon."
They got quiet again, sadly tracing the rim of their coffee cup with a finger.
"How is he, by the way?" Keith asked, eyes focused anywhere but the individual beside him.
Pidge stared into their coffee and sighed. "Same as he has been for the past two weeks."
Keith nodded carefully, taking another sip of his coffee.
"Are you sure you don't want to visit him?" Pidge said, after another moment of silence.
Keith paused, fingers stilling around the cup. He wetted his lips and inhaled sharply. "I can't, not yet."
Pidge looked down, barely nodding, their lips just kissing the cup. "Keith, is there anything you know-"
"Pidge, please. Not now," Keith interrupted hastily. He could feel the discomfort creeping up his spine—and never in his life would he have guessed that he'd be so grateful for the next few moments that occurred.
First, a few shouts. Then, sharp pain in his cheek. Next, he fell backwards against the bleachers, Pidge reached out but missed him. Finally, he was lying awkwardly between the seats, legs where his head should be.
As his sudden repositioning dawned on him, Keith groaned in pain.
"Shit! What the fuck was that?" he hissed, carefully dislodging himself from the seats. Pidge, observing the new shade of rose on Keith's cheek, pulled out a football from their feet and gave him a look that had "yikes" written all over it.
Keith was fuming, and was prepared to lash out at the idiot that knocked him down, but he instantly deflated when he saw who it was.
Lance McClain.
He was trotting over in his football uniform, shoulder pads bouncing as he jogged.
Of course it was him.
"Fuck, no," Keith hissed, averting his gaze and shooting Pidge a look of despair.
Pidge raised their eyebrows, smiling slyly. "What, you don't want to see your boyfriend?" they teased. Keith turned red, swiping at Pidge, but they moved out of the way too quickly. His heart was thumping as the placekicker came closer to the bleachers.
"Hey, did my ball go over here?"
It was an innocent enough question, albeit a stupid one. The welt on Keith's face could've been dismissed as a blush, but the wincing in Keith's eye gave it away.
Pidge held up the offending item. "This one?" they asked.
Lance smiled, reaching out for it, but Pidge pulled it back before he could take it. "It kind of hit my buddy here in the face, you know," they said, gesturing to Keith, who was staring at them intently, still trying to avoid Lance's gaze.
Lance glanced over to him. “Oh, sorry about that, I guess," he said nonchalantly.
Keith buried his frustration, if it only meant that Lance would leave sooner. "Yeah, just be careful," he mumbled, scratching at his arm and praying Lance would leave.
Unfortunately, Lance caught a good look at his face and leaned in ever so slightly.
"There's something really familiar about you, " he said, scanning Keith's features.
Fuck.
"Well, I go to this school, so you've probably seen me before," Keith offered, busying himself with his empty page of notes, as if to tell Lance he was preoccupied.
Lance just squinted and shook his head. "No, it's not like your face, it's something else."
Keith could see the gears turning in his head trying to pinpoint where he knew Keith from. The longer he stood there, the more agitated Keith became. Don't say anything, don't say anything...
"Look, you apologized for being an ass, why don't you go back to your practice or whatever. I've got my own stuff to do," he remarked calmly, managing to sneak in an extra bit of bite when pronouncing 'ass'.
Lance pursed his lips, but slowly reverted to a knowing smile. "Alright. Sorry to bother you, bucko." He took the ball back from Pidge and tucked it under his arm, turning back to the field and trotting off again.
"Oh, and speaking of ass," Lance stopped in his tracks, throwing his words over his shoulder, "try not to stare at mine, as glorious as it is."
And with that, Keith's face bloomed in red and he slammed it into his hands.
When Lance was out of earshot, Keith groaned.
"Fuck, he totally recognizes me, and he remembers." He leaned miserably on Pidge's shoulder. "How does he remember? That was two weeks ago!"
Pidge chuckled and gave Keith a small sympathy pat on the head. "I dunno. I guess it's not quite old news yet."
Keith whined into Pidge's shirt, memories of the incident that had occurred two weeks prior flooding his mind. He remembered it more vividly than he liked.
********************************************************************
Two Weeks Ago
"-And this is the announcer's booth, where you'll be working!" Coran stated, proudly extending an arm into the small room overlooking the football field.
Keith peered inside. Desks lined the windows, a couple microphones sitting on them. There were some soundboards, cameras, and other various electronics everywhere.
"Pidge will assist you with the sound, and Hunk is in charge of camera work," Coran added, walking through the room. He continued to ramble on, but Keith wasn't paying too much attention. His mind was wandering.
"Pidge will assist you..."
He shuddered. Guilt rose like bile in his throat just from hearing their name. He tried to shake it off, but all he could think of was seeing Pidge's horrified face, hearing their panic over the phone, telling him they were in the hospital.
Keith shook his head. Not now. What happened, happened. He could only move forward.
"...Keith? You got that?"
Keith blinked owlishly at Coran, coming back to reality.
"Uh, yeah. Wait, no. Could you, repeat that for me?" he asked sheepishly.
Coran didn't seem to mind his spacing out, but he did seem concerned. "Are you all right, Keith? You're usually very focused." His mature eyes crinkled with concern.
Keith nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a bit on my mind I guess."
Coran didn't prod any further, but accepted Keith's answer. "Now, what was I telling you? Uhhh..." Coran scratched his head, then snapped his fingers in realization. "Ah! Yes, the microphones, talking, headphones, all that jazz. You're going to get a pair of headphones for the games and someone, usually myself, will direct you when to speak, and when to shut up." Coran gestured to the microphones. "Other than that, you'll want to have a good rapport with whoever you're announcing with; that way, you can have banter and point out something the other missed. I believe you're well acquainted with Shiro?"
Keith nodded. "Yeah, Shiro and I go way back."
Coran smiled. "Excellent. That'll make conversation easier. You may want to brush up on your football lingo and overall understanding of the game. Shiro can help you when you're stuck. In fact, it'd be a good idea to meet up with him and talk about this. He knows the ins and outs of this like a slug on a sidewalk!" Coran adjusted his jacket and gave a nice, beaming smile to Keith, who returned the expression, though with less enthusiasm.
Coran patted him on the back. "Good to have you on the team, Keith. I suggest that you start out by learning the player's names, numbers, and positions. Shiro can give you the run-down. Then, I want you to see Pidge and Hunk, they'll help you with all the tech-y stuff. The next game is this Friday, and while it may take some time to learn all this, a little in action experience never hurt." The mustached man gave one more smile. "Any questions?"
"Yeah, what do I do if the booth catches on fire?" Keith asked.
"You're either learning how to make jokes or you've got some interesting priorities, my boy." Coran chuckled.
Keith smiled back. This was good, he could do it. Shiro always had his back, and Hunk was a good friend. He just didn't know how he would handle Pidge yet.
They left the booth, Coran waving goodbye and heading off to do his own work, and Keith heading toward the dining hall. As he went down the stairs of the stadium, he felt a
buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he checked the screen.
-1 New Message-
-From: Shiro-
Hey Keith! Coran told me he was showing you the booth today. How'd it go?
Keith pursed his lips, descending carefully as he tapped out his response on the keyboard.
hey shiro. pretty good, i think. i just have a ton of shit to do before the game friday, coran says i need to learn all the names, numbers, positions and whatever. think you can lend a hand?
-Sent-
He continued his walk towards the dining hall, his stomach starting to complain in hunger.
Bzz bzz.
-1 New Message-
-From: Shiro-
Sure. I've got a couple of graduate papers I need to work on, but I'm available today. When can we meet up?
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
im actually heading over to the red dining hall if you want to meet up there.
-Sent-
Bzz bzz.
-1 New Message-
-From: Shiro-
Sounds good. I'll meet you there!
Keith put his phone back into his pocket, and continued his walk in quiet.
It was a nice day. Warm air, blue sky, the trees swaying gently. Keith actually felt peaceful for once. He inhaled the clean air and exhaled, appreciating the serenity.
"I just have to get through these next couple weeks." He sighed, gazing up at the sky. "Then it'll all be fine."
He would've loved to have continued his walk in peace, but that wasn't in store for him. A sudden force knocked him to the side, causing him to stumble. He managed to catch himself before he landed on the ground.
"What the hell?" he gasped, turning around. A tall, lean guy was standing there, a large doofy grin on his face and pigskin in his hands. He was turned away from Keith, facing some other people cheering upwind of him.
"Told you I could catch it!" he shouted, bouncing around.
Keith squinted. Seriously? This wasn’t the football field. What an obnoxious guy.
Keith stood up straight, brushing himself off. "The football field is down that way," he said loud enough for the guy to hear, and jabbed a thumb in the direction he'd come from.
The guy suddenly seemed to take notice of him, but there was no concern in his face. "Bro, the world is my football field!" he said, throwing his arms out in exaggeration.
Keith just sneered. Great. One of those guys. "Sure," he grumbled, collecting himself and stomping off. He was not going to deal with this today.
So much for a quiet walk.
By the time Keith got to the dining hall, he could feel his stomach churning in hunger. He grabbed a plate full of food and sat down, not minding if he was alone. The dining hall was usually a bit empty at this time of the afternoon. Stragglers were just leaving from lunch and most of the absentees were probably at classes. Keith sighed in contentment. He might be able to eat for a bit in silence.
"Hey, Keith! Buddy!"
Or not.
Keith looked up to see two familiar faces coming his way, Hunk and Pidge. Hunk had grabbed a plate full of food while Pidge snagged a few apples.
"Mind if we sit here, bud?" Hunk asked, that delightful smile ever present on his face.
Keith nodded in approval and the two sat down. Pidge positioned themself to the right of Keith while Hunk took the left. Keith looked over at Pidge and mustered up the best smile he could.
"Why are you smiling like that? Are you possessed or constipated?" Pidge asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Keith's face fell, and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "What, I can't smile at my friends?" he asked defensively.
Through bites of noodles and chicken, Hunk answered for him. "Yeah, you can, but it's a rarity if you do. Usually you only smile for reasons, not just because you're seeing us." Hunk slurped down some noodles. "Unless you were smiling at a cute guy behind us. Was there a cute guy??"
Pidge snickered while Hunk turned around to scan the cafeteria. Keith merely blushed and scoffed. "No, and I'm not like that with every cute guy I see."
"You can't deny it, Keith, you're too gay to function," Pidge sighed, shaking their head. Keith pouted.
"Ooh, cutie off the port bow!" Hunk exclaimed, pointing at the approaching figure. Keith looked over, a little faster than he wished he had.
"Oh, it's just Shiro," he said, watching as said man arrived at the table.
Shiro frowned. "Just Shiro?" he asked, setting his satchel on a chair and his food on the table.
Keith face palmed. "That's not what I meant, they said there was a cute guy--"
"And I'm not cute, Keith?"
"Shiro ,you're my brother, it's not..." Keith gave up on trying to explain. Shiro seemed pleased with himself and Hunk and Pidge were in stitches laughing. Keith crossed his arms, huffing, while Hunk wiped a tear from his eye.
"Truly amazing," he sighed, patting Keith on the back.
"Yeah, yeah. Shiro and I have work to do," he said, pulling out a notepad and pencils.
"What kind of work are you doing?" Pidge asked, leaning over to Keith.
"Keith is gonna do the announcing for the games with me," Shiro answered.
Keith could feel all eyes on him, especially Pidge's. He glanced over and saw their face was struggling to hide their sadness.
"You're taking over Matt's position?" they asked, fingers rubbing an apple in agitation.
Keith swallowed. "Yeah, but just until he's better," he said.
Pidge was silent a moment before answering again. "Well, that's good. At least I get to work with someone I know."
Keith managed a small smile.
Before it could get awkward, Shiro came to the rescue. "Keith and I need to go over the players and their information for the game on Friday," he said, scooting closer to Keith. "I know them all by now, but if you want you can make a cheat sheet and use it during the game. You'll definitely need one for the opposing team."
Hunk yawned, still half a plate of food left. "Pidge and I should probably leave you to it. We've gotta fix up the equipment anyway." He stood up, pulling a container out of his backpack and scraping his plate contents inside. Keith quirked an eyebrow.
"What?" Hunk asked. "It's a waste to throw this all out and I'm going to eat it."
Keith chuckled, and waved Hunk on his way. Pidge was a little slower but soon followed suit, saluting the two as they headed off towards the field.
Shiro stretched out, joints crackling as he groaned. "Alright Keith. Let’s take a look here."
Shiro had definitely come prepared. Keith was a bit surprised by how strategic he could be. There were photos with names, their jersey numbers, and positions. Keith wrote them all down, but tried his best to memorize them as well. Halfway through the list, Keith still hadn't really recognized anyone, unsurprisingly enough.
That is, until they reached the photo of a familiar-looking guy.
"Who's this?" Keith asked, holding the photo a little closer.
"Lance McClain, number 73, placekicker," Shiro responded. "Why, do you know him?"
Keith scrunched up his face in distaste. "Not really, and I'd rather not know him anymore than that." He sighed, pushing the photo back. He looked at Shiro. "Do you know him?"
Shiro pursed his lips and shrugged a bit. "Not too well, but I see him around. He's very passionate about the game and he really tries. Although, I will admit, he is a bit overzealous."
Keith snorted. “A bit” was an understatement. Even in his photograph he was sporting a cocky grin and raised eyebrow. Who did that? It was like he was a cartoon character or something.
"Ooh, is he your type?" Shiro grinned devilishly, prodding Keith in the side.
Keith realized he must've been staring too hard. He slammed the picture down and shoved Shiro's arm away. "For God's sake Shiro, we're in college. And no, he's not my type." Not in a million years, Keith added to himself. As if he'd go for a snarky jock like that.
"How are you and Allura doing?" Keith asked, changing the subject. Shiro hummed lightly, organizing some of the papers.
"We're doing really well, actually. I'm really excited for the game this Friday, she's going to sing the national anthem and I'll get to see her."
Keith smiled, partially because Shiro was happy, and partially because their conversation had moved on. He nodded in approval as Shiro put the photo back into the pile and continued on.
The two of them worked on slang, players, whatever they could in the time they had. It was a lot of information for him, but Keith managed to keep up. Even if he was just reviewing strangers names and records, he was doing it with Shiro, and it felt good to see him again.
When they finished, Keith looked up and realized the dining common was starting to fill up with people.
"I think we got a lot done." Shiro smiled, stacking all the papers neatly to put back into his bag. Keith nodded, attempting to stifle a yawn. They both got up and stretched, cleaned up all their supplies and headed towards the exit.
"It was nice to spend time with you, Keith," Shiro said, setting his plate of the conveyer.
"Yeah. I'm glad we can be in the booth together. It's been a while since you and I actually did anything, but I get that you've got your graduate work to do." He tried his best to suppress the sadness in his tone. In truth, he hadn't seen Shiro that much lately, and that hurt. Shiro wasn't just his brother, he was his best friend. Part of the reason he had come to Voltron University at all was to follow in Shiro's footsteps. Keith thought the world of him, wanted to be smart and strong and leaderly like him, and he didn't want to admit that having Shiro absent for some time left him feeling lonely.
Shiro patted his back, a bittersweet smile on his face. "No worries, Keith. This'll be good for us." He sighed. "Besides," he added, pinching Keith's cheek, "I missed you too, li'l bro."
Keith groaned and shoved Shiro away, smiling inwardly. Shiro could drive him nuts like that, but he comforted him better than anyone else could.
As they left the hall, Keith waved goodbye to Shiro, going back over the list of information in his head as he went back to his dorm.
Nothing was concrete yet. Every now and then he'd visualize a face in his mind's eye and match it to another piece of information, but most of the time he was mixing various numbers and names together to create all-new team members that technically didn't exist. Strangely enough, the only one he could remember completely was Lance McClain, and even more strange was that it came up a lot more frequently than the others.
*************
The week seemed to crawl by, which Keith was silently grateful for. It gave him seemingly ample time to study the list and get familiar with the equipment before his debut on Friday.
Tuesday, he was going to be working with Hunk to operate the soundboards. Despite his disinterest in complicated technologies - most technology was complicated to him - he was relieved that Hunk was the one assisting him rather than Pidge.
He kicked a rock at his foot, and it bounced a few feet over in front of him. A squirrel ran by to sniff at it, but scurried away upon realizing it wasn't sustenance of any sort.
Keith sighed, lips tight and brow furrowed, an unconscious twitch he'd developed not too long after he started seeing Pidge again. His stomach dropped whenever he saw them, and just thinking about them reminded him all too much of...
Matt.
"You're taking over Matt's position?" The question had been asked with curiosity, but worry had seeped in between the words, filling Keith's heart with anguish as he thought about it again.
He walked onward to the booth by the field, but his mind was slowly succumbing to a fog that seemed to be hiding out in the corners of his mind, waiting for him to let his guard down so it could infect him.
It seemed nowadays it was the only thing on his mind, and instead of dulling over time, it was gradually consuming more and more of his thoughts.
Keith squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and stopped walking, leaning back against the wall to the gym next to the field. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, visualizing his stress exiting his body with his breath. It helped calm him down a bit, but not too much.
He turned to the side, glancing in through the window to the gym.
There were mirrors at the far end of the wall, reflecting back the image of the workout equipment arrayed nicely in the room. A few of them were in use by what he could only assume were the football players, as this gym was exclusive to them.
Keith snorted. Of course the university had to build a separate gym solely for the football team. Where else would they practice, the other gym where they would have to interact with the rest of the student populace? That wasn't good enough for these elite characters.
He recognized the faces of the boys in the gym, but he couldn't seem to remember their names or jersey numbers. Keith mentally shrugged, deciding that it wasn't a priority at the moment and instead chose to finish his hike up to the booth.
When he finally reached it, he peered through the window in the door to see if anyone was inside.
Empty.
Hunk wasn't there yet, and the door was locked. Keith clicked his tongue, testing the knob every which way to see if he could jimmy it open, but it remained adamant in its state.
Okay, so it wasn't going to unlock, he could either sit there and wait, or find an alternate way in.
Keith fidgeted.
There was no way he could sit there for so long without any sort of stimulation, so he decided to scour the premises for a key.
He turned back the way he came and headed for the gym. He knew there were offices down the hallway that might have what he needed.
Peering inside the gym once more, he made contact, knocking a fist on the door. To his luck, one of the players noticed him and jogged over, opening the door slightly but not enough to let him in.
"Sorry bro, this is players only," he said, sniffing. Keith shifted in his shoes. He may have had his own athletic training in self-defense, but this guy was pretty big.
"I know. I'm the new announcer. I need to get to Coran's office for something," Keith said, holding the door in one hand.
The player looked down at him with a bit of suspicion, but he must've decided that Keith wasn't worth his time, or at the very least if he was going to cause trouble, he wouldn't stand a chance against the beefcake looming in the doorway. "Alright bro. Just don't go dickin' around in here." He leaned back to let Keith in.
Keith wanted to roll his eyes. Entitled prick.
Adjusting his bag on his back, Keith started down the hallway. There were a couple offices, various nametags on them with identities Keith didn't know, so he kept walking until he could find Coran's office. He'd only been there once, a while ago, and his memory of the directions was vague. This became clear when he made another right turn and ended up on the other side of the gym, looking through the door to see the same players still working out and the door to the hallway he had begun in.
Keith grunted, turning away from the door to look down this new hallway. There was a stairwell over in the corner, and he wondered briefly if Coran's office was on the second floor. He decided it was better than waiting around and possibly having the guy in the gym come after him for 'dicking around'.
He’d only made it a few steps forward when a door swung open and hit him in the back, tossing him forward to catch himself on the ground.
Oh, this tasted familiar.
Keith propped himself up on his elbows, craning his neck and preparing a vicious glare as he looked back to see an individual he was too well acquainted with. However, he immediately panicked and his face flushed when the other looked back down.
Standing above him and wrapping a towel around his waist was none other than Lance “the world is my football field” McClain. His hair was wet, as was the rest of him. Keith vaguely registered that he must've come from the showers, but he was too occupied gaping from the floor because wow oh wow this guy had it going on.
Lance cocked a signature eyebrow and grinned devilishly. "Enjoying the view?" he commented, taking note as Keith clamped his jaw shut and his blush spread further.
"Absolutely not!" Keith sputtered out, but he was a bad liar, especially when he could hear his own heartbeat like a jackhammer and he was pretty sure his pupils were blown up, even in the well-lit hallway. He bit out a snarky retort to save himself. "I'm just surprised you actually bathe."
It seemed to work, because Lance's expression changed to defensive as Keith got up. Brushing himself off, Keith continued, reveling in this chance to knock Lance down a few pegs. "Last time we met I got a good whiff, and I just want to know if you've ever heard of deodorant."
Lance narrowed his eyes and curled his lips back, making Keith go giddy inside. "What, you were smelling me?" he exclaimed, a new expression of disgust making his freckles dance.
Keith guffawed, crossing his arms. "As if! You carry of cloud of noxious gas with you. If you hadn't body slammed into me, the smell surely would've knocked me out."
Lance's frown deepened. Then, he came close. Not just regularly close, but intimidatingly close, causing Keith to flex his fingers in case something was to go a step further.
Lance was now in Keith's personal bubble, and Keith could see all the details of his face more clearly. The freckles on his face, one a little more prominent than the others under his right eye, those striking blue eyes, the beads of water that rolled down his cheeks.
But most of all, despite how he ran around all day and probably sweated like a hog, he noticed that Lance smelled really, really nice.
It seemed like Lance was going to go off for a minute, but both boys were halted in their tracks when a new interruption popped in.
"Yo, Lance, what's takin' you so long? You chattin' up your boyfriend?" A different player was standing in the doorway, a cocky grin on his face.
Lance and Keith mimicked each other as they turned vibrant shades of red, equally sputtering out their denials.
"No, absolutely not! He wishes I was dating him-"
"I may be gay, but I wouldn't date a dickhead like this-"
The player rolled his eyes, smirking. "Alright, whatever. Just come on, I'm starvin' and I'm not gonna wait forever for you."
Lance nodded, giving a small "yeah", and gripping his towel tightly. As soon as the jock closed the door, Lance gave one more sneer to Keith before stomping off into the door adjacent and slamming it shut. Keith's stare was icy the whole time as well.
Fuckin' great. Keith was bristling, irritated by his most recent encounter with his new acquaintance. It was like he was always trying to start a fight, no matter the situation.
Keith pulled his hair back out of his face and exhaled deeply. Here he was, getting caught up in the drama that was Lance McClain, when he was supposed to be meeting with Hunk.
Hunk.
Shit, he still needed the key to get into the booth! Keith groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned on his heel and made his way to the stairwell, hoping Coran's office would be upstairs. At least he was working off all his agitation with this exercise.
*******************************************
By the time Keith had found Coran's office, he'd gotten a text from Hunk asking him where he was. Keith proceeded to throw an internal fit before responding to Hunk and bolting back to the booth.
"Where's your pass?" Hunk asked, large body blocking the doorway as Keith tried to squirm through.
"Right here, buddy!" he wheezed, giving Hunk the finger and squeezing by him. He popped into the announcer's booth and readjusted himself.
"Wrong pass, but if you don't have one with you next time, just bring me a sandwich or something," Hunk responded, clicking his tongue with a 'tsk' sound.
"Alright, what're we doing today?" Keith asked, glancing around the room. There was a lot of technology in there, and not a lot of time for him to get familiar with it all.
Hunk nodded, moving aside the cameras and wires and directing Keith to come to the soundboards. "I'm gonna show you how these little beasts work. Don't get too intimidated, I know they seem like a lot of buttons and whatnot but it's actually pretty easy once you get the hang of it." He smiled, turning the device on.
Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I hope so. I didn't exactly have a lot of time when I signed up for this." He leaned on the table with his hands in the crook of his elbows.
Hunk furrowed his brows, lower lip jutting out ever so slightly in concentration. "Why did you sign up? You're not really that big on football." Keith opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, but Hunk put a finger up. "Or hanging out with your friends for extended periods of time."
Keith closed his mouth, pausing, and looked up at Hunk for a moment before reaching over to fiddle with the dials. "I dunno. I guess it's a favor for Matt." He shrugged, fingers twirling the dial nonchalantly.
Hunk let out a low 'hmm', as if he wasn't satisfied with that answer. "You sure?"
Keith looked up, seeing the doubt and concern on Hunk's face. It made him uncomfortable.
"Yeah, it's a favor to Matt. No big deal," he said, a little sharper than necessary.
Hunk sighed. That was the best he was going to get out of Keith. "Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles and turning his attention to the soundboard. "Let's get started then."
They spent two hours in that booth, half working, half goofing off. Keith managed to understand the gist of the machinery. The soundboard was actually simpler than it looked, but he was still getting used to applying it properly. At one point, Hunk pulled out his computer for a sound system demonstration and they were laughing like idiots because he played the Beach Boy's Kokomo with only dog barks and caveman grunts.
It was almost 6pm by the time they finished. Keith packed up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, thanking Hunk for taking the time to teach him. Hunk responded by giving him one of his signature bear hugs and nearly collapsing his spine.
A little wobbly, Keith made his way to the door, waving to Hunk.
"Hold on, Keith. Before you go," Hunk started, stopping Keith in his tracks.
"Keith, I know you're not a really talkative guy, at least not about your feelings, but if you gotta get something off your chest, you know I'll listen," Hunk said, offering a friendly smile.
Keith didn't respond at first, ruminating on the idea of speaking up to Hunk. But then, instead, he returned the smile and nodded. "Thanks, Hunk. I'm good though. Really." He could tell Hunk knew he was keeping something back. But that was just how it was.
Keith left the booth and headed back to his dorm. He hadn't added anything new to his backpack, but for some reason, his shoulders felt heavier.
********************
Two hours before the game on Friday, Keith sat in his chair right next to Shiro, tapping his pen in agitation on his cheat sheet of players and swiveling in his seat. It was part of the dress code that he look professional, so he was wearing a button up shirt and some slacks. Shiro was wearing the same thing, but he looked more mature.
Shiro reached out as Keith tapped his pen for the thousandth time, gripping his hand and looking him in the eye.
"You okay buddy?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow with a small smile splayed on his lips.
Keith reluctantly dropped the pen, opting for jiggling his leg instead. "Yeah, I'm good. This is no problem," he said, looking out at the people entering the stadium. He glanced down at his list again. Today, the Voltron Lions were facing off against the Balmeran Boulders.
Shiro sighed sympathetically, bringing a hand down to tussle Keith's hair. "I know, it's kind of nerve-wracking your first time announcing. Just take steady breaths before the start and stay calm. Just pretend like you're talking to me throughout the game."
Pretend I'm talking to Shiro, Keith thought, taking a deep breath.
Coran started counting down.
"And we're a go in 5...4...3...2...1!"
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us for today's game. I'm Takashi Shirogane-"
"-And I'm Keith Kogane, here to bring you the live feedback of the Voltron Lions versus the Balmeran Boulders. But first, Voltron University's Allura will be performing the Star-Spangled Banner."
Allura stood in front of the crowd, microphone in hand, and sang.
"Oh-h say can you see..."
Keith wasn't paying attention, instead trying to focus on his breathing. Shiro looked over to him and gave him an encouraging thumbs-up and a grin. Keith returned the gesture.
Okay, he’d gotten over the first line, he could do this.
The crowd applauded Allura as she finished, taking a small bow and waving as she left the field. They all took a moment of silence and Shiro started introducing the players as they came on the field. They did every other name, and Keith was able to keep up fairly well.
Then, another player came out on the field, trotting along, blowing kisses to the people in the bleachers, doing stupid dance moves. Keith didn't need to see his jersey number to know who it was, and as much as he wanted to get sassy, it was his first day, so he begrudgingly went along.
"Number 73, Lance McClain, placekicker," he said, almost blandly.
Lance didn't seem to hear the disinterest in Keith's tone, because he continued waving and bouncing all over the place anyway. Keith furrowed his brow. Now that he thought about it, Lance probably didn't know that Keith was announcing anyway.
They continued going back and forth, introducing everyone, until the game started.
The players were lined up at centerfield, and Keith was paying close attention to Lance.
"44, 63, 73, hike!"
The player with the ball hiked it backwards and number 44 grabbed onto it, driving himself straight forward into the mass of people. Keith winced.
It didn't take long for the Lions to get their first touchdown, and with that, they got an added field goal attempt. This he perked up at.
Lance stood at the 20-yard line, adjusting himself for the kick. With a controlled swing of his leg, he punted the ball toward the goal line and scored the time an extra point.
"And that's an added point for Voltron University, meaning they're leading from 7-0." Shiro announced proudly.
Keith didn't want to admit it, but he was actually a bit impressed by Lance's legs.
...Not in the way that they were nice, but in the way that they kicked well. Yeah, of course. Keith shook his head of his thoughts. He was not going down that mental road, especially not with Lance McClain.
Instead, he focused on his announcing and observing the game.
The Balmerans got the next goal, and then a couple more downs, but the Lions got it back afterwards. Unfortunately, it didn't last long, since the Balmerans intercepted the ball and got it, getting another goal in for themselves. The score was 7-14, but the Lions weren't giving in. They stopped the Balmerans from advancing long enough to get the ball on their side and they started coming back strong. They managed to score two more goals in the second quarter, leaving them with a score of 21-14. Unsurprisingly, all of Lance's field goals were executed perfectly and he boosted the score for the team.
The crowd was roaring with excitement, at least the ones who wanted the Lions to win were. Even Keith couldn't help himself, he was actually getting a little excited over this game.
So far, things were going pretty well.
Until the third quarter.
Then, the unbelievable happened.
It was a slip of the tongue (a Freudian slip, as Hunk and Pidge pointed out), but Keith vehemently denied any lewd thoughts crossing his mind during the game.
As Keith observed the players flitting across the field like ants, his mind started to drift. Even though they were far away, he could still see the number 73 jersey moving across the field, almost as if it were soaring. The uniform’s colors were perfect. The black of the shirts, the blue pants. He wouldn't admit it, but Keith's eyes just so happened to land below Lance's back, and even from the distance he was at, it was still a pretty good view.
He followed the figure as they ran through the yard line, and with one swift motion, Lance rocketed the ball across the field to other side, the player in the number 44 caught the ball before being tackled to the ground by one of the Balmeran players.
*You're up, Keith!* Coran's voice echoed into his headphones.
And then he spoke.
"And the Voltron Lions get another down, thanks to that great ass-PASS, pass, by Lance McClain."
Keith's eyes bugged out of his head, is cheeks flushing with red hue. To his left, Shiro sat in absolute amusement, yet made no remark on Keith's comment, instead remaining professional.
Pidge and Hunk, on the other hand...
Coran, who's attention was solely on the game and thus Keith's comment slipped right by him, had to take a little more care in observing the camera and sound because of how hard his crew was laughing. Pidge was practically curled up in a ball on the floor, slamming their fist into the tile, and Hunk was wheezing and coughing, stray tears trickling down his beaming cheeks.
A similar reaction was occurring in the bleachers, though much shorter-lived than Pidge and Hunk's laughing fest. Keith wanted to bury himself in the back of the field and stay there for eternity.
They made it through the rest of the game without any more complications. Keith tried pushing the event to the back of his mind, but the humiliation was too much, especially since Hunk and Pidge weren't making it any easier for him. During the 2-minute break after the third quarter, his phone was blowing up with various memes about butts and Freudian slips. Despite himself, he had to admit he found the one where Mr. Krabs was looking around in a panic with the caption "When you accidentally compliment your crush’s butt in front of hundreds of people" was very accurate.
By the time the game ended, Keith was spent. Shiro signed them off and Keith took off his headphones and slammed his head against the desk.
"Shiro, I need you to do me a favor," he mumbled against the counter.
"What's up?" Shiro asked, stacking the cheat sheets and other papers neatly. He seemed to be the only one that moved on from the incident.
"I need you to kill me. Take a pen to my jugular, score my eyes out with a spoon, poison me with cyanide, whatever you got," Keith groaned.
Shiro rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Relax, Keith, it's not a big deal. Everyone thought it was funny," he said, standing up and watching the crowds exiting the stadium. "I doubt Lance noticed, he's super focused when he's in a game."
Shiro gave Keith a pat on the back and followed the crew out the door, leaving Keith alone in the booth.
Keith sighed, scratching at the offline microphone's textured surface. Maybe Shiro was right, maybe this would all blow over.
He palmed his eyes, groaning heavily. It was his first day as an announcer and he had still managed to screw it up. Fantastic. Picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he left the booth, locking it as he went on his way back to the dorm.
He didn't dare answer his phone on his trek back. Even though it was a 10-minute walk, he still felt it buzzing the entire time it was in his pocket. By the time he arrived at his room and decided to check his phone, he'd gotten a few texts of encouragement from Shiro, and about thirty more memes from Hunk and Pidge. He tossed his phone on his bed and flopped back next to it. He closed his eyes, drinking in the events of the day.
His phone buzzed once more, and he decided to check it.
- 1 New Message -
- From: Coran -
Good job out there today! But you missed a few calls that Shiro had to cover. I'd suggest you study the game a little more. Shiro's a bit busy, so I asked the placekicker to give you some pointers and he'll help you out. Ta ta for now!
Keith put his phone down gently and stared at the wall, silently considering the costs of room damage. Deciding that it wasn't worth his time, Keith shut his phone off and laid on his bed, glaring at the ceiling.
No way was he going to see that egotistical jerk again, especially not after today. He'd teach himself the ins and outs of football, without Lance.
Besides, the placekicker couldn't find him to help him if he didn't see Keith any time soon.