Chapter Text
It took days, no, weeks (well, a week and a half, actually), for Lance to finally be able to get Keith to let him give him a makeover. To be honest, Keith barely even come out of his room for a few days after the "Incident," only ever leaving when completely necessary, for meals and "Team Bonding," or whatever.
It didn't exactly help that the first time he did leave, Pidge had gotten one glance at him and almost immediately started laughing so much that they had to leave the room.
Yeah, that probably was just hurting his chances of getting a "Yes".
It also probably didn't help when Pidge had made sure Lance gave Keith the entire story, every last detail. How he had woken Hunk up in the middle of the night to ask if he had seen ever Keith blush, Pidge scaring him the next day when they'd come in unexpectedly, how they created their plan, what his prize would've been, their strategies for making him blush (Pidge had helped with that part, and Keith's face lit up like a firework when he realized what had been happening), how Shiro had told Pidge what to do (they could hear Keith swearing under his breath, something about Shiro knowing too much), and finally, that he needed to give Keith a makeover as punishment.
That conversation had promptly ended with a door being shut in Lance's face, and a cackling Pidge.
"Welp," they said through giggles, slapping a hand on Lance's back, "Good luck with this one, McClain. You're going to need it."
"Shut up, Pidge.." he grumbled, swatting at the hand on his shoulder away. How in the world was he supposed to convince Keith, Keith, to let Lance give him a makeover? He barely followed orders, from Shiro, nonetheless, so how in the world was he going to get a "Yes" from the stubborn, grumpy, hot-headed Red Paladin? For a makeover? There was, like, a 97% chance that this was never going to happen.
He was starting to see why Pidge had made this his punishment.
Still, Lance knew that he had to face his punishment, and after weeks of constantly asking and pestering Keith about the makeover, he finally broke. He can recall the exchange easily, it was still in his mind, after all
"Please?" Lance had begged, sitting next to Keith in the lounge.
Keith had just wanted to be alone, to have a bit of time to think, wanted to be in silence. But Lance, apparently, had other plans in mind. "Lance, I already told you, no. How many times am I going to have to say it again?" He grumbled, dragging a hand down his face. Lance hadn't stopped pestering him about giving him a makeover for a solid ten days now, or ever since he had lost the bet to Pidge.
Why, why did Pidge make Lance’s punishment to give him a makeover? Shouldn’t it be Lance doing something embarrassingly stupid, not him? Like, why was this even a bet in the first place?
Keith made a mental note to have a few strong works with Pidge rather soon about what the in the actual hell they were thinking.
And, worst of all, why, why, why did Shiro tell Pidge what to do? What the hell, Shiro? You can’t just go around spilling secrets to people like that! He’d have to talk with him later, too.
“Awe, c’mon, Keith! It’ll be fun!” Lance insisted, looking way too happy for the current situation. “Plus, I’m being forced to give you a makeover, so you may as well get it over with, right?”
”No! Lance I’m not going to embarrass myself even more with some stupid makeover because you lost a bet,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.
Lance ignored Keith rejection (like normal) and pulled on his arm. “Don’t be like that, Keith! It’s just a makeover, you don’t have to cry about it.”
“I am not crying about it!” Keith burst, not willing to deal with Lance’s shit right now. “I’m just saying that it’s unfair!”
“Sounds a lot like crying to me...” Lance mumbled.
”I am not!”
”Are too.”
”No I’m not!”
”Mm, yeah, you kinda are.”
”No I’m not!” Keith spat. “If I agree to do the stupid makeover, will you please just leave me alone?!”
Lance couldn’t help the wide smirk that spread across his face as he nodded his head. “Yup! Sounds perfect! Now, quick! To my room!”
From that point, Lance had forcefully dragged Keith to his room, the walk full of complaints from said Red Paladin. Lance just told him not to worry about it, that he would do all of the work and Keith just had to sit there and look pretty.
“Here we are!” Lance chirped, tugging Keith to a stop in front of his door. “Ready to look beautiful?”
”Let’s just get this over with,” he sighed.
It appeared that Keith didn’t have the same enthusiasm towards this that Lance did.
“Okay, so you just sit down over here, and I’ll get my things,” Lance instructed, leading Keith to the chair of his desk.
Keith obliged, sitting down on the chair, holding his hand under his legs. He wasn’t exactly sure what was about to happen, but he was pretty sure that he’d instinctively try to bat Lance’s hands away, so he had to keep them under him. Even if he didn’t necessarily want to have makeup on, he also didn’t want it to look bad because he messed it up.
Lance came back just a minute later, carrying a large box that seemed to be covered in sparkles. Keith raised an eyebrow at Lance, and an almost shy smile spread on his face. “I, ah... I may have spilled a bit of glitter while looking for something once.”
He set the box down on the desk and started rooting through it, quickly shifting his expression back into excitement. “Get ready to look beautiful!” he announced, pulling out some wipes and a jar of cream.
“What is that?” Keith said skeptically, narrowing his eyes at the products. “I mean, I don't know a lot about makeup, but that doesn’t look like lipstick or eyeshadow or anything to me.”
Lance snorted and opened the wipes, setting the cream down on the desk. “That’s because this isn’t makeup, Keith.” Lance set the cream down onto the desk, opening the package of wipes and pulling one into his tan fingers. “But it is essential to have your skin in pristine condition before applying any makeup.”
Keith flinched as the cold moister of the wipe touched his skin, and after a quick apology from Lance, the two fell into a silence.
Keith watched as Lance’s expression twisted into concentration, eyebrows knitting together and the tip of his tongue peaking out from frowning lips.
He didn’t dare speak and possibly rip Lance from his trance.
He had seldom seen this type of expression before, only on the few ground missions he had joined the younger boy on. It still seemed foreign on his face.
After Lance was satisfied with the wipes, he set them aside and twisted off the top to the cream, scooping a generous amount onto a finger. It took a few minutes to rub so much cream into Keith’s skin, but he was ‘practically glowing' by the end of it, as Lance had said.
“And now, for the main event!” Lance announced, a wide smile plastered on his face. He ran back over his box, dropping the two containers in, and pulled out multiple brushes and palettes. “Makeup!”
“Stop moving, Keith! You’re gonna mess it up!” Lance scolded, face scrunching in agitation. Keith squirmed in his seat, brows set down. “It’s not my fault! The brushes feel weird!”
Lance rolled his eyes, continuing his work. “Well, you better get used to it, buddy! I’m using a brush for everything!”
Keith groaned, shifting in his seat once again, ignoring the dirty look from his makeup artist. “Who did you say taught you how to apply makeup, again?”
A soft grin fell on his lips. “Technically, I taught myself, but my sisters were the reasons behind it,” he replied happily. “They all played at least one sport, and only one was ‘girly’, per say, so they had no idea how to really apply makeup, even if they had the right tools. I naturally wanted to help them out, but I never really knew what to do.
So, I liked to go through there stuff a lot, and when I was little, I found their makeup and figured I could help them by teaching them myself. But, to teach them, I had to learn how to actually do it, too.
And, after countless YouTube videos and hours upon hours of practice, I got pretty good! I ended up teaching my sisters, like I wanted to, and the skills just sort of stuck with me, I guess.”
Keith had generally seen Lance in a happy mood, but it was nothing like this. He looked like he wanted to explode of happiness and cry all at the same time, and it threw him for a loop. “You must miss them, huh?” he said awkwardly. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to say anything? Why was he even here?
”I really do, yeah,” Lance murmured, smile slowly fading into sorrow. A thick silence plagued the two, uncomfortable and sticky.
“Keith, take your shirt off.”
Keith stared back at Lance’s steer gaze, completely serious. It took a minute for him to respond, mostly unsure if he was joking or not. “I... w- what?... excuse me?”
The taller boy let out a huff, resting hands on his hips. “You heard me. You need to take it off before I really apply lipstick and eyeshadow and stuff. You probably should have taken it off to begin with, but you didn’t, so we need to take it off now,” he explained.
Wait, that hadn’t been the actual makeup that Lance was putting on? What was it, then?! It has been at least fifteen minutes, and he hadn’t even started? “Um, we? I don’t think there will be a ‘we’ in this equation,” Keith shot back.
“You’ll smudge the foundation if you take it off alone, and probably ruin that emo-ass shirt you’ve got on,” he explained, crossing his arms over his chest.
Keith scowled (it was not emo, just black.), but complied, crossing his hands over to grip the hem of his shirt and tugging on it. Lance quickly stopped him, complaining about staining again, when Keith found Lance taking his shirt off for him, and couldn't help the light flush inching its way across his face.
Fuck.
No.
This was just because he lost the bet.
Nothing else.
Pushing those (very unhelpful) thoughts to the back of his mind, Keith pulled his arms out of his sleeves so Lance could work with the fabrics around his torso and neck. "So, whatever happened to 'we', huh?" He grumbled. "Yeah, I lied," Lance deadpanned. "What I had meant to say was, 'I'm going to eventually end up doing this for you so you don't get all pissy when you mess up your own shirt, but probably would end up yelling at me anyways, and I really don't want that right now." The Red Paladin grumbled as he continued to mess with his shirt, until whipping it off his body with probably a little more flair then was necessary. "Voila!" He cheered.
"You just took my shirt off, Lance. Don't act so happy, it's not that hard."
"Shut up, mullet! It was harder then it looked!" Lance whined, clutching the shirt close to his chest. "Whatever, I'm just gong to continue. What type of style do you want? Natural? Evening? Prom? Gothic?"
"I... what? There are different styles?" Keith asked, turning his face slightly, successfully making Lance's heart jump to his throat. Shit, why was he being like this? Was it the makeup? Or had Keith always been this pretty?
No, no, nope, not happening. No.
Lance sighed, dragging a hand down his face, a best effort to hide how flustered he had become thanks to some very unhelpful thoughts. "Prom it is, then. And yes, there are different styles of makeup, Keith." He pulled multiple containers and tins out of the glittery box, setting them all down on the desk, setting to work.
It took about half an hour to comeplete his masterpiece, and even still Lance refused to let Keith see what he looked like. Instead, he started to braid his hair. Briad his hair. The fuck? Keith didn't sign up for this! Well, actually, he didn't sign up for any of this. But he certainly wasn't told that this was happening, at least.
So, there he was, sitting criss-cross on the floor, like child, with Lance sitting behind him, braiding his hair.
And Lance could not be happier.
Keith was being so fucking cute, being all pouty and blushy, so much so that Lance was actually concerned that he could hear the frantic pounding from his chest. The way his face scrunched in embarrassment, with the flush over his cheeks, and then the makeup, and, and- Oh, it was too much for Lance. He was smiling ear-to-ear, enjoying every moment of this. He didn't care how wrong this was (Keith was his teammate, not that cute boy from the Garrison anymore), his mind was telling him that Keith was gorgeous and he believed it.
It's not like this was new to him or anything. Lance had grown up with many different crushes before, and he had always looked up to Keith at the Garrison, not just as a role model, but also just a model in general.
I mean, honestly, how could someone not gawk at that face? Besides the mullet, of course, his completion was actually flawless.
Thats how Lance had seen it, anyways.
"Alrightly!" He cheered. "The braids are completed!"
Keith sighed, standing up, letting Lance run off to another part of his room. He came bounding back not even a few second later, a smile on his face and a hanger in his hand. Keith's eyes wandered down to see what was hanging, but it was blocked by a large white cloth. That couldn't be good.
"Save the best part for last, right?"
"Lance, what are you--"
He could finish, Lance shoved the hanger into Keith's chest and was pushing him into the closet. "Make sure you be careful with the makeup, this dress was expensive, and I don't want you staining it with the makeup. Or ruining the makeup, actually, that took a while."
Dress?
Keith quickly ripped the cloth off, revealing a short, pink, way-too-short-for-his-likings dress. There was thick bow at the waist, with (what he presumed to be) a lace skirt that stopped way too soon.
It was actually kind of a cute dress, really. But that was the problem.
No.
No way.
No fucking way.
He must’ve been staring at the dress for longer than he thought, because Lance’s voice and knocking was what pulled him out of his trance.
“Keith, you good, man? Do you need help getting it on or something?” His voice was supposed to be joking, but Keith could hear the concern laced between words.
Keith’s face was fuming. “Lance, there is no way that I am wearing this,” he deadpanned, voice distant of any emotions.
He could hear a sigh from the other side of the door, and practically feel Lance's eyes roll. “Calm down, man. It’s just a dress.”
Keith’s voice gained an emotion- anger. ”First of all, yes! It is ‘just a dress’! But I’m not going to wear a dress! Second of all, this looks like it was made for a teenage girl heading to prom, not for losing a bet. So, like I said, there is no way in hell that I’m about to put this on.”
“Um, of course it’s a prom dress! Didn’t you hear me say I was giving you prom makeup?”
“Lance!”
Keith heard laughter, and a thick flush continued to eat away his face. The laughter soon began to die down, and Lance's voice came between giggles. “Sorry, sorry, but, still. It’s all apart of it, Keith, and besides, it’s only for a second! Pidge just needs to see, then you can change out of that thing and continue on with-“
Keith felt his heart stop. “Wait,” he interrupted, “Pidge? Like, Pidge, is going to see?”
Lance cocked his head. “Um, yeah? They’re the one who won the bet, remember? They have to see. Right, Pidge?”
”Hm? Oh, uh, sure, whatever, Lance,” they said.
Well, he was fucked.
“I... that’s..” Keith’s mind was in overdrive.
“Just put the dress on, man,” Lance sighed.
“Yeah, Keith, if you don’t get out here soon, I will come in there and put that thing on you myself.”
Keith reluctantly looked back down at the dress in his hands, then back up at the door. He knew that Pidge would actually come through on their claims, they were not afraid to do what had to be done.
“I fucking hate you two...” he grumbled under his breath, kicking his shoes off.
A few minutes later, Lance knocked on the door again. “Keith, you done yet? We’ve been waiting for, like, ten minutes now.”
Keith tugged at the ends of the dress for what seemed like the millionth time, trying to make it a little longer. It didn’t work, like normal. The actual skirt of the dress only went down just past his boxers, where if he leaned forward even a little, they would show from behind.
“I, uh...” he took a deep breath. “Y- Yeah.”
Pidge slammed their laptop shut. “Then come out already! I’m tired of waiting!”
Air filled Keith’s lungs as he held his breath, slowly reaching a hand out to the pad. His fingers brushed the sensor, but apparently that was enough, sending the door flying open, sending a gush if wind that just slightly lifted the skirt of the dress.
Keith yelped, immediately reacting, quickly pushing the bottom of the skirt back down, heat exploding in his cheeks once again. “F-Fuck, ah, I.. shit..” He mumbled, chewing on the inside of his lip.
After a beat of silence, Pidge snorted, which escalated into laughter. Really, really, really loud laughter. They bent at the hip, holding their stomach, tears forming in their eyes.
Lance, on the other hand, was still too shocked to move.
Holy fuck.
Holy shit.
Oh my god.
Quiznak.
What the hell.
Keith was way, way too pretty. Lance had already known this, but seeing him in this dress that was (clearly) much too short for his figure set him over the edge.
He hadn’t even attempted to try and prevent the red that had spilled over his face, Keith was just too damn mesmerizing.
Keith had slowly let his hands climb back up from the skirt, making sure it didn’t flair up any more. He had taken a few steps out of the closet, hands folded over his chest and a huffy, red face studying the floor below, trying to ignore the cackling from Pidge.
They all stayed like this for a minute, nobody saying anything as Pidge’s giggles dies down, leaving them out of breath.
“Keith, Keith, oh, man—“ they started, taking a few deep breaths. “This is actually the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
Keith just crossed his arms tighter, a new layer of blush flooding his face. Lance swallowed and craned his neck back, looking up at the ceiling.
One flash later, and Keith snapped his head back up to see a giggling Pidge, swiping away on some sort of Altean device. He stood there, shocked for a few seconds before stepping up to Pidge, skirt swaying with the movement.
“Pidge, I swear to god, if you show anyone that fucking picture, I will break your—“
”Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Keithy,” they reassured, patting his cheek. “This is just a bit of blackmail material, and something to make me smile when I’m upset.”
Keith immediately reached for the device, but Pidge was already tucking it away, and began to walk out. “Anyways, I’ll leave you and loverboy there to hit it off. You can thank me later, yeach?”
Keith looked over to ‘loverboy,’ as Pidge had said, and realized he hadn’t said a thing since he’d came out. He swallowed as Pidge left, leaving just the two of them.
He prepared himself for the hellfire he was sure Lance would send his way, but to his surprise, nothing came.
The two stood in silence for a minute, both avoiding eye contact with one another. Eventually, it was Keith who broke the silence.
”Well?”
Lance looked over, meeting his eyes for the first time since he had changed. He couldn’t help but notice the “Well, what?”
”Well, aren’t you going to say something?”
Lance took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, but didn’t say anything.
Do it.
”Lance?
Do it. Just do it.
”Look, I know it looks stupid. You don’t have to try and be nice or anything. “
Now is your chance.
“Keith, don’t freak out, okay?” Lance commanded, voice shaking slightly.
Keith’s face scrunched in confusion. “What? Why?”
Lance took a few steps toward Keith, feet slow. “Just.. don’t, please.”
”I don’t think I—“ Lance cut Keith off, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him up to Lance, so he was pressed against his chest. He managed to get a small cry out of Keith, and a new layer of blush.
“Lance, Lance, what are you-“
“Don’t freak out,” he repeated, cupping Keith’s face in his palm, dragging their faces closer together, until there was only inches apart, noses brushing.
“Don’t—freak—out,” he whispered.
A flash.
Lance and Keith both froze, eyes drawing to a very, very happy Pidge, holding an Altean device in their hand.
“Blackmail material,” they explained simply, then began to run.
Smart move.
“Pidge!”