Chapter Text
“And why is he here?” Lance whispered angrily, leaning closer to Hunk so their conversation remained private.
“Because we’re nice people and he’s new?” Hunk responded, confused. Usually Lance was hyped to meet new people and loved boasting about his shop. Here they were, in the middle of the most crowded bar in their small town, all sitting in resolute silence. The flat screens were playing some ball game and creating an eerie blue glow on the three of them. Lance was still eyeballing Hunk, a disdaining sneer forming when he looked back at Keith. Keith was rather content, sipping his beer and trying to hide his gleeful expression. He could hear Lance loud and clear.
Lance grumbled something unintelligible to both of them, then turned to the bar tender and ordering tequila. “I’m gonna need to see some ID,” the bartender said admonishingly. Lance groaned, reaching into his back pocket and grabbing for his wallet. Which was not there.
“Oh shit,” he groaned, sighing in defeat. “I think I left my wallet in the shop.”
Hunk perked up, opportunity presenting itself. “Oh no, that’s too bad buddy. You should go get it.” Lance nodded along in agreement, but Hunk wasn’t finished. “Oh man, it’s pretty late. I don’t think it’s safe for you to go alone, pal.”
Lance shrugged. “Alright then, go with me.”
Hunk raised his eyebrows expectantly, prodding Lance along. “I don’t want to leave Keith alone! Maybe you guys should go…” Lance suppressed and irritated shriek, his eyes burning into Hunk as he completed his thought: “Together!”
Keith bristled at this. Yes, he was all for bugging Lance, the oversensitive drama queen, but that didn’t mean we wanted to spend time alone with him. “We can all go,” Keith piped up, nudging Hunk.
“I don’t want us to lose our seats!” Hunk said, gesturing at their prime location. Which wasn’t really all that prime, but Keith had to admit Hunk had really taken the opportunity presented to him. “You guys can take some time to get to know each other, maybe get along better! We’re all friends!”
Lance snatched his jacket off from the back of his chair, bitter and actually rather humorous. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go. Hunk, we’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Hunk waved to them, pure and happy, excited to see them partially getting along.
Once they left the building, all pretenses were dropped. “How could you leave your wallet at your shop? Are you stupid or something?” Keith asked, the chilly wind irking him.
“Oh, sorry Mr. Above-It-All, not everyone can be as pristine and perfect as you. At least I’m not emo.” Lance was smiling, challenging him.
“You think I’m perfect? Thanks man!” Keith spat back with precision, hands settling on his hips.
Lance was mildly startled, his mouth hanging open slightly before he responded with “I’m taller!”
“No you’re not!” Keith chuckled, eyeing the other man. They were about the same height, Lance couldn’t be taller than him. “Prove it.” Lance swaggered over to him, pressing up against his back and putting his arms up to their heads. Keith sucked in a breath of air at the contact, as unsettling as it was, and tried not to think about the man next to him.
“See? I’m taller!” He spat joyfully, pulling Keith out of his gaze. He was slightly flustered, feeling stupid after being impacted by a little physical contact.
“Maybe so. I bet I’m faster, though.” Keith said after a second of stalling, hoping Lance hadn’t noticed. Luckily, Lance was so caught up in his own ego that he paid no mind to it.
“Yeah, sure,” he snorted, “First one to the store wins.” And with that, he took off at a sprint, leaving Keith in his dust.
“Hey, that’s not fair!” Keith cried, chasing after him. He trailed after Lance, his eyes trained on the man before him. On his broad shoulders, his long legs, his arms, his… Lance shook his head, quickening his space and advancing in front of Lance. He glanced back, smirking at Lance’s flabbergasted face, and picked up his pace even more. Lance did the same, and soon they were neck and neck, dodging street signs and poles and bushes, bending corners and jumping out of the way of small children, until they reached The Greenhouse. “Ha! I won!” Keith declared, his hand slapped on the front door.
“What? No! I won!” Lance shouted, his hand right by Keith’s, his breathing heavy and his face grim.
Keith felt himself smiling, and faltered. Their teasing was almost fun, and with that Keith grimaced. Must have been the beer, he thought. The back of his mind reminded him it was only like a sip and a half, so NO, it was not the beer. But Keith didn’t care. “Wow, a sore loser? Who woulda thunk?”
Lance shot him a death glare, pulling out his keys and unlocking the front door. “Oh sure, I’m the sore loser, not you?”
“Usually being the sore loser implies losing.”
“Well I’m guess I’m not the sore loser then!”
They went on like that while Lance turned the shop upside down looking for his wallet. Turns out it was on the countertop, and Keith enjoys giving Lance hell for that. “Whatever!” Lance cries, throwing his hands up in the air. His shirt rises with that, and Keith ignores the way his eyes instinctively move towards the exposed skin. Just because Lance happens to be attractive didn’t mean he likes him at all. Attractive people were often the worst, and Keith felt no shame in finding Lance handsome. Well, not handsome, but not ugly. Not that he liked him at all. Scratch that, what was he thinking? He didn’t find Lance attractive at all.
“We good to go?” Keith sounds weaker this time, and thankfully Lance failed to notice.
“Yeah, let’s not run back though,” He said, still tired from their sprint to the shop. Lance closed shop back up, making sure it was locked and the humidity was set right. Keith followed him out the door, walking in silence with Lance. They had bickered the whole way there, but both had used up their best insults. Keith wouldn’t call it a content silence, more like an awkward ‘I-don’t-like-you-but-I-don’t-have-much-of-a-choice’ atmosphere.
By the time they got back to the bar, it felt like there were twice as many people, and karaoke had begun. “Oh shit,” Lance cried, leaping enthusiastically towards Hunk, “My song! I gotta do my song!”
Hunk smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, I already put your name in. “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira, right?”
Lance high-fived him, ignoring Keith’s disgruntled and confused facial expression. “Seriously? Shakira?” He asked, cut off by the poorly done rendition of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.”
Hunk just shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “What can I say, the man loves Shakira.”
Lance rushed off, shoving his ID in the bartender’s face and asking for tequila again. The bartender scrutinizes the ID, but after careful consideration, slides Lance a shot. Lance throws his head back and takes one long swig, making Keith raise his eyebrows. Lance gave them an eager thumbs up before heading over to the karaoke frantically.
Hunk and Keith watched from the bar as Lance was handed the mic from the last performer, a short girl who looked way too young to be in there, clad in a green shirt with an alien on it. Lance exchanged a few words of conversation, clearly he knew her, before the song started. “Wait, doesn’t this song have two singers? Like a call response thing?” Keith asked Hunk, still surprised by Lance’s choice in song.
“Just watch,” Hunk said, giving him and encouraging nod towards the stage. Lance had started, shouting “Shakira Shakira!” into the mic, creating a Very Loud effect. Very Loud, Too Loud. Keith jumped.
Lance lived off of the crowd’s energy, cheering them on in response to their drunken cheers. Not only did Lance sing (quite well actually,) he also danced, throwing his jacket off before the first verse and swaying his hips to the beat of the music. This definitely wasn’t his first time doing this. “I’m… going to need another drink,” Keith announced, his mouth dry and his stomach doing somersaults. He returned to Hunk with some weird concoction from the bar in his hands, and Lance had transformed to a whole new level of Karaoke. Keith was just glad Lance wasn’t grinding up against anyone. He held the mic a bit too close to his mouth and his dancing brought back memories from when he and Shiro accidentally rented Magic Mike from the Redbox.
“He’s hilarious, isn’t he?” Hunk asked, turning towards him expectantly. Keith nodded, his eyes fixed on Lance as his body processed the alcohol he was consuming.
“Yeah man,” He finally said before bringing the drink back up to his lips. Lance was done after what felt like years, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses before heading back to them. The short girl from earlier that had sung “Don’t Stop Believing” followed, glassing glinting in the neon glow of the bar.
“Pidge!” Hunk cried, jumping up. “It’s been ages! How are you?” Hunk pulled ‘Pidge’ into a big hug, and the smaller person drowned in Hunk’s grasp.
“It’s been a week,” Pidge corrected, adjusting her glasses and noticing Keith. “Hey! The fella from the bakery!” She realized, waving. Keith brain decided to finally work and he realized it was the Heelys™ kid form earlier, and they were in fact still rocking their kicks.
“Hi Pidge!” He said, smiling politely.
“You guys know each other?” Lance asked, settling down in the seat next to Keith.
“Oh, not really,” Pidge answered for both of them, shrugging, “I applied for a job at Kogane’s joint. Hope this doesn’t hurt my chances.”
“You’re literally the only person that’s applied,” Keith told her blatantly. “I think you’ll get the job.”
“Sweet!” Pidge said, leaning back in the chair and trying to snatch Lance’s drink.
Lance slapped her hand away quickly, jolting upright with a serious expression. “Hey!” He shouted at the smaller person, eliciting a snort from Hunk. Thankfully, karaoke didn’t last too long. Soon the pitchy, painfully drunk voices were replaced by jazzy background music, easily drowned out by the constant hum of chatter.
He learned that Hunk was currently attending culinary school while helping Lance with his shop, and he was incredibly friendly. He stressed that he was a Hufflepuff, which Keith was pretty sure was some Harry Potter thing. Pidge was some conspiracy theory nerd, and was 100% certain that the government had already made contact with alien races and just refused to extend that information to the public. Overall, Pidge was pretty sly, and very funny. Lance was, well, Lance. Keith already had his predisposed ideals, and while Lance still tended to give him the cold shoulder, he did seem nice. A bit too eccentric for Keith, yeah, and pretty mainstream, but he seemed like an OK guy. Throughout the night, the more inebriated Keith got, the more he found his gaze lingering on Lance. He assumed it was due to their rocky relationship, and not due to the crop top Lance somehow changed into. Seriously, when did that happen?
Nonetheless, Hunk was ecstatic that their night went so well. “I’m so glad you guys are getting along!” He told them once they had left the building, the frosty air sobering Keith up a little. “See you tomorrow!”
Keith gave him a brisk wave, turning off onto his own street. Lance lingered in his thoughts, making him scrunch up his face in disgust. Or maybe just confusion. Did he still dislike Lance, or were they cool? Keith wasn’t quite sure. Hunk had said Lance hold a grudge like no one else. But did Keith even care? “I’m too tired for this,” he decided, speaking out loud to himself. He reached his apartment and threw himself on his bed, too exhausted to even take off his shoes. He just hoped he had an alarm set for the next day. Because the next day, he’d face Lance, and he didn’t know if they were friends or foes.