Chapter Text
Buzz. Buzz. Lance groaned, and rolled over, desperately trying to ignore the constant buzzing of his phone. He already knew who it was, and he refused to answer.
BUZZ.
“Oh, for the love of-” Lance gritted his teeth and stood. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Jeez.”
He took a deep breath and answered the phone with a cheeriness he most certainly did not feel. “Hey Coran! What’s-”
“Lance, where are you? A well-known fashion company is visiting today, and we must impress them!”
“You mean I must impress them, Coran, with the new moves, right?” Lance’s voice was sharp. He hated being bitter to his choreographer, but those moves are close to impossible. “Coran, I haven’t done that sequence right since you taught it to me.”
“I know my boy, but you must try.” Coran paused on the other end of the line, and his voice grew even softer. “Look, you don’t have to be perfect. It’ll be okay if you make a mistake. The company knows how hard you practice, and that’s all that matters.”
Lance sighed. “Thanks, Coran. I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I ask! You’ll do great!” Coran said, and the phone clicked, signaling the end of the call.
Lance dressed in his standard work-out gear, and went outside to wave down a taxi. Being a main character was great, sometimes. Not only was he constantly surrounded by attention and fans, which he loved, he was also held to a certain expectation that he struggled to meet. His family, his brands, and even his team, always - without meaning to - held him to the standard that he was the Lance McClain, and that meant that he had to do everything right with an award-winning smile on his face and some charming joke on his tongue. No one knew that in order to keep from letting them down, he would sneak back into the company’s practice mat so that he could practice until his muscles screamed from overuse.
The sequence Coran had taught him recently was the hardest one Lance had to learn yet, and no matter how hard he tried, it seemed as though he was never going to be able to learn. On top of that, the directors wanted him to perform those moves for the representatives of a popular fashion company. His performance today would decide whether or not they would sponsor Lance’s team.
Lance sank back into the seat of the taxi, dejected. It was just too much pressure.
Since it was so early, the only people there were Coran and Allura, the latter waving to him before returning to her stretches.
Lance smiled as his choreographer approached him, ignoring the anxious butterflies that swarmed his stomach. “Hey Coran, mind helping me get a few stretches in before we start?”
Coran nodded eagerly, and Lance saw his shoulders sag slightly with relief. If Lance was happy, everything was going to be okay.
At least that’s what Lance thought he was thinking.
After he completed his stretches, two men and one woman in suits appeared at the front desk, and Coran gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before rushing over to greet them. Lance scoffed. This idea came solely from the mysteriously absent director, but he always put everything on Coran to handle. It would make everything better - and everyone happy - if Coran just replaced the current director. He was more than fit for the job.
Lance nibbled on his lip, and he tried his best to calm down. Coran said that all he had to do was try his best. Perhaps today would be the day he could finally get the sequence right all the way through.
After brief introductions, everyone cleared the mat to give Lance their full attention. Allura gave him an encouraging thumbs up, and he smiled at her shakily, before exhaling.
As the song began, Lance forced himself to relax and prepare for the beginning of the performance. Lance made it through the first part with no mistakes, and he relaxed slightly. Gripping the silks in his palms, he twisted and dropped as though he too, was part of the silk.
The silk raised and lowered, and once he was placed on the ground Lance found that it was becoming difficult to breathe. He faked a grin and wrapped the silk around his legs, and next thing he knew he was flying through the air, making his way through the sequence Coran had tried to drill into his muscles.
Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad, as long as he could get through -
As soon as the thought formed, Lance slipped.
He knew the second it happened, because it had happened so many times before in the exact same place. His palms slid down the silks, and Lance struggled to find a grip. Someone cried out - he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was Coran or himself - but he managed to wrap a leg securely around the silk, flipping upside down as his body jerked painfully. He let out a grunt as the person controlling the silks above lowered him gently to the ground.
“Lance? Oh my gosh, Lance are you alright?” Allura rushed to his side in an instant, hesitating to touch him in case he was seriously injured.
Lance tested out his limbs and nodded. “I’m okay, the only thing that’s hurt is my pride!” He attempted a joke, so that he could ease her worries.
His calmness worked, and she sat back, relaxed. “Oh thank goodness, you had us terrified!”
Coran came and squatted next to him. “How are you doing, my boy? Are you injured?”
Lance shook his head and laughed without any joy. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Coran, out of shame. “No, I’m good! I’m always good!”
Coran patted his back and stood, going over to talk to the people in suits. Lance knew he should go over and apologize for his mistake, but he was too embarrassed to do anything but stand and stare at his feet as Allura rubbed his arm comfortingly.
“Don’t feel bad Lance, we know that is a difficult move,” she whispered, but Lance couldn’t find anything to say in reply; it felt like it was taking all of his energy to not fall apart. How pathetic would that be?
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered, turning around and walking as fast as he could without sprinting.
Hands clasping both sides of the sink, Lance stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to hold back his tears. He took a deep breath and splashed his face with cold water, sighing.
“Just a small mistake Lance, you did your best,” he murmured. Gathering all of his courage, he exited, making his way over to the people in suits.
Coran looked surprised to see him, and the company representatives looked at him neutrally. The woman was the only one who seemed as though she might be sympathetic, so Lance kept his focus on her. Rubbing the back of his neck he chuckled.
“Sorry, the choreography sweeps me off my feet sometimes.” Puns.
The woman smiled - finally - and reached out to shake his hand. “That’s quite alright, Lance. We understand that it was a hard routine, and you can expect an email from us in the next couple of days.”
Lance winced as she clasped his hand, and she blinked at him quizzically. He smiled. “Thank you for coming out to see me. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she quipped gently, and led the group out the door.
Lance glanced down at the fabric burn on his palms. He would have to wrap his hands before anyone else saw.
“Lance, if you want to go home-”
Lance turned sharply, hiding his hands behind his back as he interrupted Coran with a shake of his head. “Of course not! I have to practice in order to get it perfect, right?”
Coran grinned, and nodded, going over to Shiro and the others, who had just entered the building. As soon as his back was turned, Lance’s shoulders sagged. This was going to be a long day.
First things first, he needed to hide his injuries.
Shiro led the group into the gym, and indicated for Keith and Pidge to follow him over to a redhead. The new man was laughing at something Allura had said, and Keith took in his impressive moustache with something akin to confusion and awe. When Allura and her companion noticed the group, their conversation ceased.
“Shiro! You’ve brought friends!” The man studied Keith’s face for a moment and chuckled with recognition. “Keith!”
Keith nodded, surprised. “That’s me, Keith, but how do you know my name?”
“Shiro talks about you all the time, my boy,” he replied, and before Keith could protest, the redhead swept him up in a tight hug. “I’m Coran, the choreographer!”
Keith blinked rapidly, not expecting the sudden contact. “It’s uh, it’s nice to meet you.”
Coran then turned his attention on Keith’s best friend, and smiled. “You must be Pidge then, yes?”
Pidge nodded and elbowed Keith with a snort. “Glad Shiro didn’t forget me.”
Keith watched, expecting a negative reaction from Pidge when Coran initiated a hug, but to his surprise she simply let it happen.
Shiro grinned. “Coran is glue that keeps our shows together.”
“He’s like magic,” Allura added affectionately. “This show would basically be nothing without him.”
Coran’s cheeks flushed, and he puffed out his chest at the compliments. “I wouldn’t say all that…” he trailed off and shrugged, “But I do suppose I am pretty good at my job.”
After introductions were over, Coran began discussing new choreography with Shiro and Allura. Pidge ran away to go search for Hunk. Keith, not part of the performers’ conversation, found his mind wandering. He glanced around and smiled warmly when he spotted Lance practicing on his silks. Making his way over, he tried to come up with something to say and decided to sit by the wall instead, watching everyone - but mostly Lance - spin and dip in the air as if gravity was not an existing concept to them.
Lance spotted him belatedly and made his way over after Shiro tossed him a water bottle. Sliding down the wall and plopping himself besides Keith, Lance grinned. “How goes it, Keith?”
Keith’s heart beat rapidly in his chest as he suddenly remembered their time on the hill. Should he pretend it never happened? Flirt a little or act casual? “Well I can definitely say I’m doing better than your grammar,” he finally replied. “You?”
A bead of sweat dripped down Lance’s face. How long had he been practicing before Keith’s group had arrived? The performer was out of breath, and sweating like crazy. Keith wanted to ask if he was overworking himself, but figured that Lance was the athlete here, not him, and most likely knew what to do to keep from crossing his limit.
“I am doing fantastic, thanks for asking.” Lance grabbed a random towel off the floor and wiped his head. “I need a shower though.”
Keith noticed the bandages wrapping his hands, and gently flipped Lance’s palms up, leaning closer to get a better look. “What happened?”
Lance frowned, momentary confusion flashing across his features before he let out a laugh. “Oh this? Sometimes we wrap our hands in order to avoid friction burns.” Makes sense. Lance doesn’t get hurt, Keith reassured himself.
“Heya Lance,” Pidge greeted cheerily, and Lance smiled, standing.
Instead of returning her greeting, Lance launched forward and Pidge let out a shriek, shifting as she frantically tried to escape his sweaty hug. “If you get sweat on me,” she warned, “You’ll die.”
Snorting, Lance shrugged and surrendered. “There are worse ways to go.” He winked at the two of them and tossed the towel onto the ground, jogging back to his silks.
Pidge seated herself next to Keith and pulled out her phone.
“What are you doing?” Keith asked, looking over her shoulder to peek at her screen.
“Shiro told me to look up places that everyone might want to go to for lunch. What about this?” She had pulled up the website of a pizza place not too far from the gym.
“Don’t they have a strict diet or something? They are performers.” Keith eyed their toned bodies warily. “And they have to stay in shape.”
Pidge rolled her eyes. “As if two or three pizza slices are going to kill them. If they’re actually in shape they’ll be perfectly fine. Besides, I want pizza.”
Pizza did sound like a good idea, and he nudged her with his shoulder. “I’m in.”
Hunk jogged over to them, a wrinkle between his brows. “Hey guys, can I ask you something?”
“You just did.” Pidge smirked. “What is it?”
“Does Lance seem kind of off to you?”
Keith shook his head. Lance seemed just as cheerful as always. “No, why?”
“Huh.” Hunk ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I’m just imagining things. Thanks!"
Hunk was heading into a back room so he could practice the words of the songs that would be featured in the next performance, which was in a few weeks. According to Pidge, he was practicing his pronunciations a ton since the words were in a foreign language. He said he didn’t want to butcher the words and ruin the musicality of the piece.
Allura, who had gotten there earlier than the rest of them, was taking a break and napping in the corner of the room, snoring softly. What time had she gotten there?
When their long practice was over and they were finally allowed to leave, the performers took taxis back to their rooms so that they could shower. Keith and Pidge parked themselves on the couch in Hunk and Lance’s shared room. Ever since Hunk mentioned something off with Lance, Keith found that his gaze kept drifting back to him, but nothing seemed out of place.
While they are eating at the restaurant, Keith found himself, as he usually did, in another conversation with Lance. As their talking started to drift to a close, Keith wracked his brain for a topic that could delay the end.
“So, Lance.” Lance glanced up, distractedly fighting the cheese that refused to detach from the pizza slice he was eating.
“Mmf?” Keith fought back a giggle at Lance’s struggle, and put another slice onto his own plate before the acrobats ate it all. He thought their stomachs would be tiny, but their appetites proved to be ridiculously large.
“Can you tell me about the show?” Keith paused, finding the right words before continuing, “Since I wasn’t really into the shows, I don’t really know that much about the storyline.”
“Wasn’t? You know wasn’t is past tense, right?” Lance grinned, and sat back. “You want to know the plot?”
“Yes, please.” Keith took a bite of the pizza and groaned. Pidge made the right choice.
Lance wiped his hands onto his napkin and hummed thoughtfully. “Well the show revolves around the growth of a prince, and his mental and physical journey through the seasons. The first performance you saw was winter.”
Keith could see that; the color theme of the first performance was mainly whites and pale blues. “Why start with winter?”
“I guess he was born in the winter.” Lance shrugged. “But anyways, he starts out as a child, and the routines are supposed to show him as he matures throughout life.”
“What about Shiro and Allura’s performance? Who are they?”
“Ah, their story is really nice. Their characters start out as friends, and with each show their relationship progresses into something more as they trust each other and become more passionate.”
Keith wondered who came up with the concepts. “That’s amazing. What happens during the rest of the seasons?”
Lance stuck out his tongue, pulling a pepperoni off of his slice to eat separately. “I can’t tell you, you’ll just have to watch.”
“Can you give me a hint?” Keith begged, and Lance pushed at his shoulder with an eye roll. Keith pouted. “Please.”
Lance caved. “Fine. The next season, spring, is when the prince meets the love of his life.”
“And?”
Lance winked, and shoved the rest of the pizza crust in his mouth so he couldn’t talk. Keith laughed and shook his head. The rest of their meal passed comfortably, although Keith couldn’t help but wonder if Lance was quieter than normal, or if that was just his imagination. It seemed as though the only time Lance said anything was when someone spoke to him.
They split the bill and Shiro stood first. “Do you guys want to go and hang out some more, or are you planning on turning in early tonight?” he asked the group, Allura standing along with him.
Lance stretched, yawning. “I think I’m going to turn in early. I’m pretty swamped.”
That sounded like a good idea; Keith found himself yawning too. “Same here.”
Everyone turned to Pidge, who was looking at Hunk. Hunk stared at Lance for a moment and shrugged. “I could use some rest.”
Lance stood to go use the restroom and Hunk took off after him. Keith turned to Pidge for an explanation. “What’s with Hunk?”
She wiped dirt off of her glasses and shifted in her seat. “Hunk is still saying that he’s getting a bad aura from Lance. I didn’t notice anything weird about him though, did you?”
“Nope, nothing. I mean he seemed a little quiet tonight, but he did say he was tired.” Keith hummed thoughtfully. “And he had been at the gym early with Allura, who was so tired she had taken a nap on the mat."
“That’s what I was thinking, but Hunk is convinced something is wrong.” She raised her palms in an ‘oh well’ motion. “But if anyone knows what Lance is feeling, it would be Hunk.”
Shiro and Allura told Pidge and Keith to pass their goodbyes on to the other two, so Keith and Pidge were left to their thoughts until Hunk returned. He slumped into his seat, woefully denying the slice of pizza Pidge tried to hand him.
“What’s the verdict?” she asked, and Hunk’s shoulders sagged even lower.
“I still believe something’s wrong, but he won’t say anything.” Hunk pouted. “If no one else, Lance at least talks to me.”
“You look frustrated but not surprised though,” Keith stated, and Hunk rolled his eyes.
“The thing you’ll learn with Lance,” Hunk explained, “Is that no matter how much he could be hurting he will still put on a happy smile and pretend everything is okay.”
“Which sucks because he’s your best friend and should be able to vent to you for comfort,” Pidge summarized, and he nodded. “Sounds like someone I know.”
Keith sat up. “You better not be talking about me, Pidge!”
She shrugged. “I never said any names!”
At that moment Lance decided to reenter the room with a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry guys, I kinda zoned out.”
“In the bathroom?” Pidge asked incredulously.
Hunk frowned. “Yeah that’s...kinda weird man.”
Lance pursed his lips. “As if none of you have done it before.” Hunk and Pidge shook their heads and Lance looked at Keith for support.
Keith puffed out his cheeks. “Once.”
“See!”
“Like I said, it was just one time.”
Lance chose to ignore him, and stretched. “Hunk, you ready to go back to the room?” Hunk nodded, and Lance turned to Keith and Pidge. “What are you two going to do?”
Pidge glanced at Keith. “We’ll probably go back to our room unless you want us to do something else,” she said.
Lance nibbled on his bottom lip and glanced away. “Youguyscansleepoverifyouwant.”
Keith raised a brow. “What?”
Lance huffed. “I said, you guys can sleep over if you want.”
“I thought you were tired?” Hunk asked quizzically, and Lance shrugged.
“I’m exhausted, but I also want to eat ice cream. It’s lame to eat ice cream by yourself.”
“I am always in the mood to eat ice cream,” Pidge admitted. “Keith?”
“As long as I get coffee I’ll be fine.” Keith rubbed his nose. “We could watch bad movies while we eat ice cream?”
Lance brightened, and Hunk grinned, exclaiming, “That’s a great idea! What do you think, Lance?”
Lance nodded. “Ice cream is not complete without a bad sci-fi movie.”
Five crappy sci-fi movies and four tubs of ice cream later, Pidge was curled up on Hunk snoring softly as Keith and Lance cleaned the room.
“Lance?” Keith whispers timidly.
Lance pauses briefly and glances up. “What?”
“Was something wrong, today?” Keith can feel his heart thudding in his throat.
An eternity seems to pass before Lance looks away, murmuring, “yeah.” Keith waits patiently for an explanation, and Lance continues, “come with me.”
Before Keith can ask any questions, Lance grabs him by the wrist and pulls him out of the room. Hailing a cab, Keith fidgets in the tense silence. Lance isn’t going to drag him to a dark alley and hurt him right?
As Keith’s mind races to a million different dark scenarios, he notices Lance had directed the driver to the gym, where Lance unlocks the door for them.
“Are performers allowed to have a key to the gym?” Keith asks curiously.
“Not normally, but I come here for extra practice sometimes, so Coran snuck one to me.” Lance turns on the light and disappears, so Keith makes himself comfortable by the mirror on the mat.
Silk is lowered to the ground and Lance reappears, and it is only now that Keith realizes that Lance is still wearing his practice clothes. Soft music is playing from the speakers, and Lance takes his place on the silk.
As Lance begins to move, Keith is struck once again by how graceful his movements are. Lance is a bit lanky, but on the ropes his limbs seem to add to the beauty of the performance. Keith watches in awed silence as Lance goes up, and down, and twists as though physics does not apply to him.
Lance wraps his arms around the rope and effortlessly slides into the splits. Keith wonders if there will ever come a time when he is not shocked by Lance’s flexibility. Keith can’t tear his eyes away; not that he would ever want to.
Sweat drips down Lance’s brow and Keith lets out a light gasp when Lance twists himself up and moves faster than Keith’s eyes can follow. It’s perfect -
“Shit!” Lance curses, and Keith lurches forward as Lance slides down the silk. Keith manages to brace his fall; the last thing Lance needs right before a performance is to be injured.
Keith lays Lance to the ground and squats beside him. “Are you okay?”
Lance is staring down at his red palms, blank. “No.”
“Is this what had you so down today?” Keith asks gently, and places a hand on Lance’s shoulder.
Lance looks up with shining eyes, and to Keith’s horror, a tear slides out. “Everyone is counting on me, and all I do is hold them back.” Lance looked away and sighed. Keith frowned and pinched Lance’s arm. “Dude! What the heck?”
Keith frowned. “Look man, you’re the center of everything, and you’re right. Your team is counting on you, but the only way you’re letting them down isn’t by messing up the choreography, it’s by feeling bad for yourself.” Keith grabbed Lance’s face to force him to make eye contact. “Do you know why everyone practices so hard?”
“Uh, no?”
“Because they’re practicing for you, Lance. They know how hard you’re working, and don’t want to let you down. You may be the center of the action, but they are also there for you to lean on for support. They don’t want to mess things up for you. Performing is your life.”
Lance’s lips were parted, and Keith breathed heavily. “You believe that?” Lance’s voice was small, and if Keith wasn’t as close as he was he wouldn’t have been able to hear.
“I do,” he answered confidently. Standing, he offered Lance a hand.
“What are you doing?"
“Come on, you’re going to practice that section until you get it right,” Keith ordered.
Lance huffed, but Keith could see that the signature light in his eyes was beginning to return. “Aren’t you tired?” he asked.
Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m always tired. We’re going to stay here all night if we have to, and I am going to make sure you don’t give up.”
Lance used Keith’s hand to stand and held on a bit longer than he needed. “Thanks, Keith.”
Keith flushed and cleared his throat awkwardly. “You were thinking too much. Leave the thinking to Pidge.”
Lance chuckled and Keith moved away to give him space. It took a couple tries, but to his joy, Lance managed to get it, and it looked absolutely effortless. Then he did it again.
And again.
And again.
Lance giggled, and hopped off the silk to rush over and wrap Keith in his long arms, sweeping him off the floor.
“Keith, I did it! I can’t believe it!” Lance exclaimed, and Keith couldn’t help but hug him back.
“I knew you could do it.” Lance gently returned Keith to his rightful place on the ground, and Keith studied Lance’s eyes curiously. “What changed?”
Lance scratched the back of his neck. “Well, Mullet Man, you said to stop thinking, so I did. Whenever it was time for me to do the move I was thinking about how to carry it out, but that was messing me up. So, I stopped thinking and just let my body take over.”
“Who knew not thinking would work?” Keith asked with a grin.
Lance smirked. “According to you, you did.”
Lance started his cool down and when they exited the gym, Keith shivered. Though the Vegas air was frigid, his chest was warm.