Chapter Text
Keith sped around the corner, leaning into the move and ducking down lower, just barely making it before the light changed to red. He was already a bit late, he didn’t need to make it worse by getting swallowed up by the traffic lights. Luckily, the roads were pretty clear and open, enough so that Keith wouldn’t miss too much, he would make it at a reasonable time. It also helped that the crisp autumn air was cool with just a bit of a bite to it as night quickly approached. The way it whipped against his arms and chest opened his lungs right up, filling him with a sense of renewal. He felt alive, and no matter how late he was, he always found time to enjoy that same freeing sensation that he always experienced on his motorcycle. It was his pride and joy.
Finally, Keith rounded the last corner and rolled up onto the street he was headed for. There were a few parking spots out front, just big enough that Keith was able to comfortably squeeze his bike right in there. Rumbling, the bike coasted along into the open space. It putted a couple times as Keith quickly flicked down the kickstand. He switched the bike off, pocketing his keys in his leather jacket. After unclasping it, Keith slipped the helmet off of his head and shook his hair out. As he gracefully kicked his leg over the side of the bike to fully stand on the sidewalk, he gave one last glance over his shoulder at his motorcycle. She was a true beauty, Red, and Keith’s heart got excited every time he laid his eyes on her. Keith smiled.
A loud whoop from the building in front of him drew his attention in. Keith scanned the crowd of the many people who were filling up the bar, bumping into each other, and just having a generally fun time. A smile slipped over Keith’s face. He quickly retrieved the bag that he had stored in the back of the motorcycle and hung it across the arm that held his helmet. With one swoop of his hand through his hair, Keith stepped purposely towards the door of the Kerberos Pub. His helmet was hiked up under his arm as he heaved the door open and entered the building.
The second he crossed the threshold, the warmth of the bar washed over him, painting him in the subdued glow of the overhead lights. His smile widened. Where the street was a welcoming and kind handshake with a polite greeting, the bar was a sudden and all-encompassing bear hug, rowdy in nature but well-meaning nonetheless. Keith never failed to feel at home in the bar, like the building itself was an old friend. All around him, people were shuffling and moving about, each with an excited grin on their face and a cold beer in their hand. It was like an entire sea of people. The thing that really caught Keith’s eye, though, were the copious number of decorations that littered the bar, as well as the people.
From the ceiling, there hung orange and black orbs, each with their own little light source that showered the bar in a coloured glow. The overhead lights were covered with thin layers of orange paper, adding to the fire-like ambiance. The entire room felt cozier and more mysterious the way that the dimmed, orange light cascaded down. The back of the bar, from what Keith could see through the throngs of people, was decorated with a hand painted banner. Long spindly trees and menacing pumpkins, each with a wicked face carved onto it. There were witches on brooms and tall, lopsided houses. Keith could see a hint of a zombie hand coming up from a grave near the end of the banner. All along the ceiling, fake cobwebs and flowing, distressed cloths dangled down, just high enough that they couldn’t be torn down, but still low enough to create an atmosphere.
It wasn’t just the bar that was dressed for the spookiest night of the year, because everywhere that Keith looked, people were made up in various costumes and outfits. Keith could see a gal who was a ladybug, there was a clown in the corner, at least two girls were nurses. A guy by the front door was dressed as a prisoner, complete with big plastic handcuffs. A police officer was stood next to him, telling him something that must have been hilarious. There was a couple who were both dressed as cave people near the middle of the crowd. He saw at least four devils when he scanned the heads of all the customers and costumers. Zombies, fairies, pirates, superheroes, sailors, you name it, someone was dressed as it.
Keith pushed the helmet farther under his arm and scooted his way around the groups of people who were gathering by the front door. For as jam-packed as it was, it was also very comfortable and enjoyable. Keith slipped along, skirting around a fairly accurate Donald Trump who was doing an impression for a gal dressed as a bee, until he was able to make it to the bar. The orange lights that lined the bar were like a beacon which Keith aimed for. Leaning over the wooden counter, careful not to scrape his helmet along the finish, Keith’s eyes scanned the back of the bar. There, near the end, was the person he was hunting for. “Hunk! Hey, Hunk!” Keith called out to the man who was running the bar, happily filling up mugs with beer for the rowdy patrons at the counter. Everyone was laughing and singing along with the loud music that poured out of the overhead speakers and tapped at people’s feet, coercing them into dancing along.
The man at the end of the bar perked up at the sound of his name, turning to the source of it with a friendly smile. As his eyes landed on Keith, his entire face broke out into a beaming smile and he place the glass in his hand on the counter to quickly meet up with Keith. “Hey, man, glad you could make it!”
“Yeah, sorry, we ran a little bit later than usual,” Keith apologized, shouting over the loud bustling people around him.
Hunk waved a hand at Keith, his face scrunching up like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No, don’t apologize, you take all the time you need! We can always wait, you know that!” he told him with a gentle and welcoming smile.
Keith smiled back, nodding along as he was filled with that same happy warmth that always snuck up on him whenever he was reminded of what great friends he had. “Thanks, Hunk,” he sincerely added. Then, just before the moment became too gushy, Keith shifted his eyes to Hunk’s neck. “You look good, by the way. Did you make your costume yourself?”
Hunk’s face was green, and not from any form of sickness, it was paint. There were sutures painted across his face at an angle, halving his face. One half was a lighter green than the other, but it still created the desired effect of different pieces of sickly flesh that had been stitched together. The wig on his head made the shape of his skull look so unnaturally square, but in the most realistic way. Two protruding screws bracketed his neck, leaving no room for debate about what Hunk was dressed as. Keith was honestly very impressed with Hunk’s costume.
Like a lightbulb, Hunk’s face lit up and he glanced down at his own costume. Adjusting his shirt a little bit with pride, he replied, “Thank you! Yeah, I did make it! I’m a huge fan of Halloween, as you can tell.” Hunk laughed and gestured around the bar at all the different decorations, which Keith was just as impressed with.
“No kidding,” Keith said.
“Speaking of which,” Hunk’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “where’s your costume?”
Keith held up the bag on his arm to illustrate that he had yet to change into it, but that he had, in fact, brought it. “Right here,” Keith answered.
Hunk returned back to his bright grin. “Awesome! What are you dressing up as? Or wait, don’t tell me! I want it to be a surprise.” Hunk pointed over to the staircase near the back of the bar. “You can change upstairs. I think Lance is still up there, actually. He’s been up there for awhile, perfecting his costume. I’m starting to get worried. Make sure he’s still alive, will you?” Hunk asked, turning back to Keith with a playfully exasperated sighed as they both knew how overdramatic Lance could be about dressing up.
Keith nodded and huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I’ll go check on him. See you, Hunk.” He punctuated his sentence with a tap of his hand into the bar, then he pushed off and disappeared through the crowd once again. He sidled through the gaps between the groups of people, trying to get around them to make his way to the other end of the bar where the stairs were located. A guy in a morph suit nearly backed into Keith, but he managed to slip past him quickly enough. His helmet jostled against some of the partygoers, but none of them seemed too bothered by the interruption.
There was a small break in the people which allowed Keith to slip through. Away from everyone, Keith took his free moment to breathe deeply. There were a lot of people and it was almost suffocating with all of them pressed together like that. Already, Keith was starting to get agitated with all of them, but he just adjusted his helmet under his arm and hurried up the stairs where he would be able to calm himself down and get his outfit put together.
As he began to ascend the stairs, his gaze falling over the crowded bar at the many different people, his mind wandered. He could remember the very first time that he had ever been to one of these huge bar parties that Hunk set up every year. It had been for Lance’s birthday though, and that was two years ago. It was an all new experience to be apart of something so big and celebratory then, because Keith had never been to a party at all at that point in his life.
Ah, yes. Back then, when Keith was younger and knew less of the world around him, when he was sick and his mind was convinced of many things that he now knew weren’t true. He was better now, not perfect, but his mind was healing. He could look in a mirror without wanting to tear his own skin off, in fact, he was even proud of the way he looked a lot of the time. And sometimes, he could even catch a glimpse of the beauty that Lance had always told him he possessed.
It took a lot of work to get where he was though. After everything that had happened at the wedding, things had started to slow down a bit, but they were also picking up, in a way. It was a strange, new balance. Everything that happened was still very fast paced and intense with many new experiences, but not like it had been before. He wasn’t afraid of anyone anymore. No one was out to harass him. Allura and Shiro weren’t telling him that he needed to be fixed anymore, because they finally started to understand their actions. Lotor left him alone completely after that. And once more, the city was his friend, and although there were people that Allura had warned him about, those who saw him purely as a freak of nature or a circus side show, there were still many kind people who wanted to welcome him into the city.
Keith’s life had taken a new path, and although it was a long path, it was much healthier. Keith felt like he had strength and power in his own destiny for the first time in a long time. It took a long while of being out in the open, accepting the way he looked, and learning to shift his features around with ease before Keith was really comfortable with the way he looked, though, but even then, there was a lot of work to do.
Therapy. Not just for himself, but for Shiro, Allura, and Coran as well. Family therapy did a lot for Keith, he felt. And as far as he could tell, it was a healthy thing for his family members too. Brick by brick, they had built up their stunted and miscommunicated relationships. Keith had his own therapy too, just so that he could have some form of self esteem, but he also had his family therapy, which was where he had been before the party. It really did feel like it was making a difference in his life. He didn’t feel nearly as hopeless and worthless as he had all his life. It was freeing. It was like breathing fresh air for the first time after nearly drowning.
Allura had some healing to do as well. As it turned out, just like Keith had gotten treatment for his depression, Allura had recently begun to get proper treatment for her paranoia towards people hurting Keith. At first it had been a normal sort of fear, but after many years, it had gotten so out of hand that Allura struggled to watch Keith do anything without being completely convinced something – anything – would kill him. And that wasn’t healthy.
Shiro didn’t have anything that needed immediate treatment, but he was dealing with a horrible, gut-wrenching guilt that was like a wet blanket draped over his back, weighing him down. He hadn’t known how much he had been hurting Keith, just like Allura hadn’t. Somehow, between the two of them, they had convinced themselves that it was what was best for Keith, despite all the obvious signs that it wasn’t. It was like he physically and mentally could not notice it. But once he had, he couldn’t even believe that he had let himself get that way.
Coran, since the wedding, had taken to doing everything that he could to help Keith out and to rectify all that he was apart of before. And Keith really appreciated that since Coran never meant harm, he could never mean harm. The effort that Coran put in on a daily basis was, and had always been, admirable, but it was even more so through the actions that Coran took to gain Keith’s trust back. He still spoke a hell of a lot though, always telling stories, and to an extent, Keith considered those stories as acts of trust as well.
Suddenly, right as Keith’s mind was in the middle of reminiscing, a voice called down to him from the top floor. “Hey, Keith, there you are!”
Keith flicked his head toward the sound and was met with the grinning face of Pidge. And even as he stared at her, he still had a hard time telling it was even her for a moment. Had it not been for the fact that she had called down to him, he probably wouldn’t have even recognized her at all, thinking her just another partygoer. She had a red hat placed backwards on her head, which only served to bring more attention to her hair, which Keith presumed had been dyed black, although it could have just been a really good wig. Her glasses were nowhere to be seen and Keith had to hope that she was wearing contacts, or else she was in danger of taking a tumble down the stairs. She wore a blue and white jacket along with green gloves.
“Ash Ketchum, huh?” Keith commented, raising an impressed eyebrow.
Pidge stood up prouder, puffing her chest out bravely. “You know it!” she announced. “Where’s your costume?” She stepped down the stairs, watching Keith the entire way down. “If you aren’t dressed up for Halloween, Keith, I’ll kick you out of my bar.”
“This is Hunk’s bar,” Keith pointed out.
Pidge stared him dead in the eye, and there was something indescribably intimidating about it. “That will not stop me,” she stated bluntly.
Keith raised both eyebrows, understanding that Pidge wasn’t one to joke about these sorts of celebrations. Keith, once again, held up his bag to indicate that he had it and it hadn’t been forgotten. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got a costume.”
Pidge, who had come close enough to touch Keith, smacked him on the side of the arm before jabbing a thumb back towards the way she had come. “Well, get a move on then, or you’ll miss the entire party! Lance is up there too.” She rolled her eyes and joshed, “You’d think he was dressing up as a prince with how high and mighty he’s acting about it.”
Keith snorted. “Sounds about right,” he agreed.
Pidge gave one last glance over her shoulder, a sort of subdued smirk on her face that she was obviously trying to hide twitched at her lip. Keith narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why don’t you go find out what he’s actually dressed as,” she said suddenly, turning to grin at Keith with that same amused look. Then, she gave a gentle shove to his shoulder before continuing down the stairs again. Keith watched her leave, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Once Pidge had disappeared back into the crowd, no longer identifiable amongst all the taller, colourfully dressed people, Keith continued his trek up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, Keith continued along the darkened balcony, trailing his free hand over the banister as he went. There was a wall along the back of the shop with a door that faced the front of the bar. It led to Hunk’s home, or at least the part of the bar where Hunk lived when he wasn’t working. Hunk really loved his bar, it was a huge part of his life so, of course, he would be attached to it.
Keith took a quick glance over the banister at the people below. Then, he disappeared into the shadows of the upper floor and turned the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, luckily, but as far as Keith was aware, Lance was the only one who was upstairs anyway so it didn’t really make much difference if he just wandered in or not.
With that thought in mind, Keith slowly pushed the door open and slipped inside before quickly shutting it behind him with a click. The room was just as dark as the rest of the balcony with only a single light coming from the bedroom. Keith checked over his shoulder, then he made his way towards the door to the bedroom. It was ajar, but as Keith peeked in, he saw that the room was empty. The bathroom at the other end of the room, however, was closed and light seeped out from the creases of the door. Clacking and shifting came from beyond it. Lance. Keith’s feet tapped against the wooden floorboards as he approached.
“Lance?” Keith called out.
There was a startled noise, followed by Lance’s voice calling back through the wood of the door, “Keith, you’re here!” He awkwardly laughed. “That’s great. That’s really… great.”
Keith narrowed his eyes and took another step forward. “Are you alright?”
“Oh! Yes, I’m fine!” Lance replied, almost too quickly.
“Are you sure? You sound off,” Keith commented. His mouth twisted suspiciously.
There was another clattering before Lance’s voice, now closer to the door, answered, “Yeah, I’m just finishing up my costume, give me a minute.” His voice sounded more playful, bubbling up an entirely new brand of confused within Keith.
“Okay…” he responded. “I’ll just change out here then.”
“Sounds good!” Lance chirped.
Keith nodded to no one in particular and backed up farther into the centre of the bedroom. He placed his helmet on the bed along with the bag of costume supplies. For the most part, Keith already was wearing most of the outfit. His shirt was a light tan dress shirt with his leather jacket over top, although it wasn’t his red leather jacket, it was a different one which he had bought specifically for his costume. His pants were about the same colour as his shirt, perhaps one shade difference. He wore the same black boots he always did, but he was changing out of those.
Lance’s voice floated out from behind the door again, a giggly tone about it, “You’re going to love this, Keith.”
Keith glanced back over his shoulder. “Am I actually going to love it or should I be worried?” he asked, skeptical. Keith removed his boots and set them on the floor next to the bed as he awaited Lance’s response.
There was a scoff. “When have you ever not loved my costume?”
Keith pulled a pair of folded up black boots out of the bag and replaced his old ones with those. They reached his mid shin. He snorted as he yanked at the top of his left one, fitting it into place. “Did you forget about your Barry B. Benson costume?” he rhetorically asked. Keith took a few test steps in his boots until he was comfortable with how they were adjusted, then he returned to the bag and retrieved an aviator hat.
Lance gasped at the mention, “What’re you talking about? That costume was so good!”
Keith shook his head to himself as he rooted around in the bag. “You better not be a minion, that’s all I can say.”
At the other end of the room, above a dresser, there was a mirror. Shifting around, Keith watched in the mirror as he slipped the hat onto his head with careful precision, making sure the entire time that he was shifted over to his human ears. It fit snuggly and his hair flared out around his neck and forehead.
“You didn’t even see me much that night, you were always on the other end of the room somehow,” Lance retorted.
After shuffling around in the bag some more, Keith grabbed the goggles that went with the hat. He glanced back to the mirror and fit the goggles into place. Absently, he countered, “Yeah, there was a reason for that, and it was your costume.”
Lance sputtered on the other end of the door, “You were avoiding me?!”
In response, Keith just laughed, although he found enough guilt within himself to at least try stifling it.
“I can’t believe I’m just finding out about this now! You better not avoid me this time, Keith, or I’ll hunt you down.”
“No promises.” Keith smirked to himself as he went about fixing the final touch; the addition of a white scarf which he twirled around his neck twice until he was the perfect picture of a pilot from the 1920’s. He even took care to shift his features over until his skin was one solid colour and his eyes were not. He decided to keep his fangs though, just because they made his smirk sharp. Once he was pleased, he smiled and nodded to himself in the mirror.
Suddenly, as he was in the midst of admiring his own reflection, the door behind him clicked and opened. Keith looked to Lance in the mirror, completely ready to see him dressed as some sort of meme, but as his eyes landed on his boyfriend, his mouth opened involuntarily. He whipped around to stare at Lance in person.
“What do you think?” Lance asked smugly, holding his arms out to show off his look.
Lance wore a grey shirt with solid black skinny jeans, and on his feet, black boots. Around his waist he had tied a red leather jacket. Not just any red leather jacket, it was Keith’s cropped one. Keith hadn’t needed it, so he wasn’t entirely sure where he had left it. It was clear now where it had gone though. That wasn’t what was drawing Keith’s attention in though, no, that was Lance’s face. Over his eyes, Lance had put yellow contact lenses. There was nothing there but a solid plane of yellow. When he grinned at Keith, a pair of glued on fangs were clearly visible on his canines. There were purple marks painted with face paint all over Lance’s face, neck, and arms in a nearly identical pattern to Keith’s own. Atop his head, Lance had attached a pair of brown, cat-like ears which blended nearly seamlessly into his tousled hair.
Keith took an uncertain step forward, his eyes widened. “What…?” he breathed, not really sure what else he could say.
Lance spun around, showing off his entire outfit. The jacket around his waist flowed outward. “It’s pretty good, right?” Lance laughed. He paused his spinning to approach Keith, his hands out in front of him in order to grab Keith’s own hands once he was close enough. “I thought I’d be something sexy this year,” he purred, his tone playful as he grinned at Keith.
Whether it was from the elaborate costume or the compliment itself, Keith couldn’t help but snicker to himself as he stared at Lance. Quickly, his smile smoothed out from an amused grin into a soft, loving smile. He squeezed Lance’s hand and took a step forward. “Well, it’s better than a minion,” he teased.
Lance laughed, burying his face in Keith’s shoulder suddenly to stifle it. His hands slipped out of Keith’s in order for his arms to find their way around Keith’s neck. It pulled Keith even closer against his chest, not that Keith was complaining. Keith’s hands immediately settled onto Lance’s hips as if they were made to connect perfectly, two piece of the puzzle that was them.
Lance pulled his face away to look Keith in the eye. That teasing glint he had in his eyes was still there, glimmering at Keith. Even through the yellow contacts that covered his eyes, Keith could identify it. Something about that felt weird to Keith. He was seeing his own eyes on the one he loved, and even with how fake they looked over Lance’s cornea, he could still find the life in them. Had it been that way for Lance too? Keith liked that thought.
“That’s good to hear, Flyboy, because you’re looking better than a minion too,” he replied, his voice lower, although still sarcastic.
Keith turned his head off to the side in hopes that Lance wouldn’t notice him struggling not to laugh, but he was rarely so lucky.
Slowly, Lance pressed forward. He smiled against Keith’s cheek. “Hey, Mr. Pilot,” Lance began, moving his mouth along Keith’s skin methodically, with intention. Keith shivered at the feeling. “I’d let you go full throttle down my runway,” Lance whispered.
Even with the feeling of Lance’s hot breath against his earlobe, Keith couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that. He sank into Lance’s chest, still laughing as Lance tightened his hold. The grin pulling at his face was so wide that it started to hurt. He shook his head, unable to believe that this was really his boyfriend. Finally, he straightened himself and faced Lance, still holding onto his waist. Lance had a shit-eating smile plastered over his mischievous face, highlighting his fake fangs, but Keith managed to school his own smile away before speaking.
“I’m actually a helicopter pilot,” Keith informed Lance, earning a raised eyebrow in return. “I’ll get you up faster.”
Lance guffawed, loudly and without restriction. He tossed his head back, nearly dislodging the cat ears atop his head entirely. His entire body shook with laughter. Keith chuckled along with him, unable to stop himself as he watched Lance. They both just stood there, laughing and holding each other, feeling the pounding of the music beneath their feet as it reverberated through the floorboards.
When Lance calmed himself enough, he released a light, happy breath. It could almost be a sigh, even. His arms tightened minutely around Keith’s shoulders. Keith could see it in the crinkles in Lance’s skin around his mouth and eyes as his smile stretched just a little bit wider. Keith’s own face mirrored, almost against his will. The two stood there, just holding each other and smiling, staring at the other like it was the first time seeing each other all over again.
“C’mon,” Lance eventually breathed, “we have a party to get to.”
Keith huffed a laugh and nodded. Then, Lance pulled away in favour of grabbing Keith’s hand to lead him out of the room. Every step that Keith took, holding Lance’s hand and following along behind him, made his heart swell a little more. As the orange glow bleeding in through the banister swallowed him just like the thumping of the music and the cheering of the partygoers, Keith knew he was where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to be doing, with people who he loved and who loved him right back. Including himself. And Keith, for all that he had been through and everything that his appearance had brought him, was finally free, but not of the curse. No, Keith was free of his reservations, his loneliness, his pain, and above all else, he was free to be happy in the way that he saw fit.
Right then, though, the way he saw his happiness was as a warm and welcoming bar occupied by Frankenstein’s monster, Ash Ketchum, ‘Keith Kogane,’ and a 1920’s pilot all sharing stories over a round of beers. And it was more than enough. Keith was more than enough.