Chapter Text
Lance figured he should probably take the time to do a bit of research on his new dance partner. The day’s previous lesson had proven to be… difficult, to say the least, and he decided that maybe seeing what Keith was used to doing might help them start something new. Keith had turned cold and as stubborn as an ass for the entire time they’d been together, hardly ever meeting his eyes or being generally helpful in any way. He refused to dance at all, which, if you asked him, was unbelievably stupid to Lance, because that was the only reason he was even there. But, whatever, they couldn’t change anything now.
The Latino settled onto his bed, pulling a laptop from the table beside him and flicking it open. Opening a fresh tab, he hesitated. What exactly was he looking for? Wikipedia articles? Facebook pages? Other performances? Yeah, that... that sounded about right, he went with that.
“Keith Kogane Paladins performance".
The first links to pop up sent him to YouTube with some song he didn’t recognize the name to. He did, however, recognize Kesha's name as one of his personal favorite artists, so he figured it couldn’t be too bad and halfheartedly tapped the link to the video. Lance’s found his mind wandering back to Keith and how he claimed that he was not a "pop guy". But... Kesha sung pop, didn't she? So what was this?
All thoughts fled with the strumming of an electric guitar shooting through the speaker of his laptop, Pidge and Keith already on the screen. Wait, wasn't Keith the singer? Why was Pidge there? Christ, he didn't realize how little he actually knew about this band before agreeing to help. He wouldn't have even known their names if it hadn't been for Allura, who knows what else he was oblivious to? Keith didn't have a guitar in his hands and Pidge wasn't at their drums set, both factors challenging Lance's knowledge of the group. They instead both held microphones in their hands, circling around each other as the music played. He could make out who he assumed to be Shiro as merely a smudge of colors in the background with numerous other people that he didn't know. All the new information was drowning Lance's brain and he couldn't seem to focus, but everything cleared as soon as Keith opened his mouth.
"Your eyes follow like a spotlight, two eyes like the sun," The words poured out of the speakers as fast as they did Keith's mouth, and Lance found himself stunned. "Go ahead, keep your distance from me, soon you're gonna come." Lance watched as the boy on screen gestured and circled around a motionless Pidge, who then pulled the microphone up to their lips.
"When you flick your hair like you don't care and you ask me where I'm from," He watched as the smaller person rock their head rashly as they sung, flipping their tuft of creamy brunette hair with every nod, sinking down slowly with the words.
"That game that you're runnin', baby, you've already won."
"I need to know, know, know," The two singers stepped toward each other in rhythm, latching their hands over the other's arm once close enough. "What d'ya need, need, need? What d'ya like, like, like?"
The music slammed to a halt and Keith suddenly pulled Pidge forward by their arm and swung them across his chest and into a dip, faces pushed dangerously close. "'Cause I'm gonna be it tonight."
As the music pounded back, the two intwined performers blasted off of each other to opposite sides of the stage as Keith continued to belt into the mic. "You could be cool, you could be shy, say what you want, say what you like!" He pointed a finger to the smaller person, pivoting towards them and using his free hand to comb his raven hair away from near purple eyes. Wait, purple eyes? Since when were his eyes purple? Was that even possible? He wasn't exactly a scientist, but he also didn't remember his freshmen year biology teacher saying anything about purple eyes. And, more importantly, how had Lance not noticed that his eyes were purple? Fuck, they were... really pretty, actually. He'd never seen purple eyes before, and they looked especially nice against Keith's pale skin and darker hair. And how they gleamed with the spotlight shining directly into the violet orbs, it felt somewhat hypnotizing, like he was in a trance as he stared into them...
"S- Shit, wait- what?"
Lance suddenly snapped out of his daze, nothing less than bewildered staring at the frozen screen in front of him. Had he really subconsciously paused the video to stare at this boy's eyes? He wouldn't deny that Keith was pretty, because he certainly was, but it seemed that he didn't realize just how pretty he was. And, shit, he was really pretty. He used the stopped images to inspect the pale boy's complexion further, gaze turning elsewhere from the gorgeous amethyst eyes. His skin seemed extra pale in the washed-out glow of the spotlight, making the puff of dark hair even more prominent over his forehead. He was obviously already sweaty from the performance, matting and sticking hair to his face, something that Lance determined to be much more attractive than it should have been. Lance's eyes wandered back to the frozen purple ones, and he could recognize a fiery passion buried deep within them. There was such intensity there that it almost scared him, and Lance decided that maybe it was time to switch to another performance. He left the video paused and scrolled the page down to the next in line. He found another, one with Pidge in the choreography again. They both wore different outfits from the previous video, now switched to skin-tight body suits that made Lance feel all kinds of emotions that he recognized all too quickly. Fuck, that wasn't good for his mind. The suits left almost nothing to the imagination, and he could feel the heat rise on his cheeks as he hid his face in his hands.
"Goddamn it," he mumbled, peaking through his fingers as he clicked onto the link.
The actual noise coming through the speakers startled Lance momentarily. He was certain, though, that Keith's body suit and his possibly less-than-focused mind had nothing to do with the fact that he forgot what was going on, thank you, and that it was a silly idea to even propose such a thing. No, he was just tired. Yeah, tired, that was it. Exhausted.
Pushing all thoughts behind him, Lance focused on a familiar throbbing beat from the background. Wait, he knew this song! Which was... strange, thinking back once again to when Keith insisted that he "didn't sing pop". Right. Which is why he'd found two different performances of pop songs within the first five minutes of searching.
"I got a dirty mind, I've got filthy ways, I'm tryna' bathe my ape in your milky way," Pidge started their section, swaying and moving with the words. Lance wasn't able to see Keith on stage, but a pillar of fog and muffled lights was the center of his attention. A silhouetted figure rose with the smoke from a drop-out on the floor, and he soon realized that the figure was Keith. Although somewhat distracting, the rising was slow enough that it didn't interfere with Pidge's part. "I'm a legend, I'm irreverent, I be reverend, I'll be so far uh-uh-uh-uh-up, we don't give a fuh-uh-oh."
For as perplexing as Keith may have been, Lance truly did have to give it to the duo. They were really good at singing. Sure, he may have only heard barely one song so far, but their vocal range was impressive. He'd heard before that Pidge had been solidified as the rapper of the pair, which he took to mean that they were just gifted at memorizing and shouting words really fast, but if this song was anything to go by, that was far from the only thing they could do. They were able to skip their voice so smoothly that he wasn't completely convinced that it was natural, and they were able to get their vocals to a surprisingly high pitch, compared to their regular voice. Their voice had a dynamic flexibility to it that was unlike anything he'd heard before. Lance was a dancer, not a singer, but he still knew it took a lot of work to train a voice to rise and dip like they did.
"Welcome to the danger zone, step into the fantasy, you are not invited to the other side of sanity. They callin' me an alien, a big-headed astronaut- maybe it's because your boy, Yeezy, gets ass a lot," The young singer pushed to a halt directly in front of the now completely-risen figure, a spotlight suddenly snapping on, melting away the silhouette. And there he was, the gorgeous boy himself in that damned bodysuit. Keith sprang to life, previously standing motionless as he rose, and stepped forward, putting his arms over Pidge's shoulders.
"You're so hypnotizing," he started, voice pulsing slightly with the beat, withdrawing his arms from around the smaller singer's shoulders and pushing them around their head, pulling their hair back. "Could you be the devil?" He threw his arms out, letting them fall slowly, imitating wings. "Could you be an angel?" Keith spun around to the side of Pidge, one hand grasping a smaller one and the other wandering smoothly over their body. "Your touch, magnetizing. Feels like I am floating, leaves my body glowing."
He stepped around them, landing on the other side of their body. "They say, 'Be afraid,' you're not like the others, futuristic lovers. Different DNA, they don't understand you..."
Keith began to circle Pidge, eyes never leaving them with the beat change.
"You're from a whole 'nother world, a different dimension. You open my eyes, and I'm ready to go, lead me into the light!"
Lance nopped his head alongside the sudden rise in tempo, familiar lyrics already playing in his head. Those words quickly fell, however, as he watched the screen.
"Kiss me, k-k-kiss me! Infest me with your loving, fill me with your poison!"
Keith had fallen to his knees, body throbbing on the stage floor to the pounding bass, hands clutching and pulling at his partner. A flush exploded over Lance's face and his breath hitched, eyes glued on the scene in front of him. He didn't care how well he might have known this song, nothing could've prepared him for this. He wasn't done, though, oh no, not yet.
"Take me, t-t-take me! Wanna be your victim, ready for abduction!"
The boy threw his torso and arms back, leaving his chest and neck exposed in front of Pidge, who simply stared at him, still swaying with the music. He pushed back to his hands and knees, sliding across the front of Pidge and spinning into a kneel, pulling himself up and against the younger performer's body, holding their face in his hands.
"Boy, you're an alien! Your touch, so foreign. It's supernatural, extraterrestrial." His mouth pressed only centimeters away from Pidge's neck, and Lance concluded that it was prime time for a different performance. He clicked on the top one instantly, needing to be anywhere besides where he was then. The lyrics and the low lights and the dancing and the damn bodysuit was too much for poor Lance's mind to compute, and he was going to short-circuit if he experienced too much more of it. He didn't get a chance to see what he actually chose, but it didn't matter at that point. He just needed something, anything else.
That may have been a mistake.
Lance had tried to soothe himself while the advertisement played, running a hand through his hair. He did everything he could to think about anything except for what he just saw, but it was all that could come to mind. Keith was the center of his thoughts, of course, but the image of him pressed so close to Pidge seemed to be burned in his brain alongside it. Thinking of which, the two seemed to get awful close to one another in the first performance too. They were just performing, right? It probably wasn't anything other than that. They were just partners in singing, and they had to dance together on stage. He knew that was how things worked, he was a dancer, after all, and he had to dance with other people all the time. It was only logical, really. But, of course, he really didn't know anything about Keith up until the past two days, and even now he still didn't actually know all that much. And in all honesty, would it really be that unreasonable for the two to be in a relationship? They seemed like they'd known each other for quite a long time, from what he'd picked up on, and sometimes people fall in love and feelings are things that just happen and there's nothing anybody can do to prevent it and Lance shouldn't have even thought that and-
What the hell was Keith wearing? Was that a ballet outfit? What the fuck?
Before Lance was able to gather his thoughts any further, Keith had already begun to sing, walking and twisting gently over the stage.
"You seem to replace your brain with your heart. You take things so hard, and then you fall apart. You try to explain, but before you can start, those cry baby tears come out of the dark."
He began to climb the stairs connected to a pillar in center stage, and Lance noticed what appeared to be an oversized, flat water faucet of the back wall of the stage.
"Someone's turnin' the handle to that faucet in your eyes, they're pouring out where everyone can see. Your heart's too big for your body, that's why it won't fit inside. They're pouring out where everyone to see." Keith stopped at the top of the platform, hands gripped to a wheel-shaped handle and twisting it, a cascade of water beginning to pour from the faucet on the wall.
"They call you 'Crybaby,' 'Crybaby,' but you don't fucking care. 'Crybaby,' 'Crybaby,' So you laugh through the tears."
Lance was proud to say that he was at least able to sit through the entire song this time, mesmerized the entire time by the long satin skirt wrapped around his waist and flowering out when he twirled and jumped. It seemed like he was notably skilled in ballet, which was nothing short of unbelievable, to say the least. But what really got him was how the older boy looked in his outfit. Lance would've never taken Keith as the drag type, but looking at the other videos in the roster told him all he needed to know. Was this just a performance thing, or did he wear stuff like that normally? He didn't know nearly enough about anyone in the group to determine anything himself, and he didn't even have any of their numbers, so he couldn't ask them directly, except-
Hunk. He knew Hunk. Hunk worked with them, he would know this sort of stuff, right?
Unlocking his phone, Lance clicked into the facetime app, letting Hunk's contact ring for a few seconds. Moments later, a tanned, smiling face appeared on screen, greeting Lance with a wave.
"Hey, Lance!" Hunk chirped.
"Hunk! My friend, my buddy, my bestest bro," Lance smiled, propping his phone next to the laptop. "Am I ever glad to see your gorgeous face."
"Ah, Lance," he rolled his eyes, but Lance could see the contempt in his features. "You make me blush. What do you need me to do?"
"Wha-- Why, I never-!" Lance sputtered in mock hurt. "Can't a guy just call his best friend without being questioned?"
"Sure they can," he hummed, "But I've known you too long to not recognize a pattern, and opening with a compliment is a sure sign of needing something."
"What?" Lance mumbled. "A pattern? What patterns do I have?"
"Well, let's see," he sighed, running a hand over his forehead. "When you're pretending to work, you always act way to serious with whatever you're doing. When you're actually working, you'll talk to yourself quietly. And when you're thinking about someone, you'll just... stare at them. Unblinking. It's a little freaky, honestly. "
"What?"
"And when you don't get enough of your 'beauty sleep,' you'll get incredibly petty. It's almost impressive, in a way." Hunk continued, ignoring his friend's question. "And when you're around a pretty girl, you'll flirt with them a whole lot."
Lance snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Real keen observation, there, Hunk. I was expecting a little more from you, if I'm being honest."
"That's not the interesting part, Lance," Hunk smiled, crossing his arms. "The interesting half is that when you're around somebody that you actually like, you'll be less direct. Try to talk to them more, get to know them. Plain flirting seems like a defense mechanism or something, to protect yourself from a commitment by being rejected flat-out, and when you really care, you'll be more careful with what you say."
"What do you mean?"
"Remember Nyma?" Hunk asked gently. He knew that she was still a sensitive subject with Lance, and he tried not to bring it up too much. "Once you really fell for her, there wasn't much flirting, just a lot of conversations. A lot of questions. You wanted to know everything about her, you wanted her life story. You wanted a life with her, and thought the only way to get that was to know her life already"
"Don't remind me," Lance growled.
"Sorry." A thick silence filled the microphones before Hunk smiled once again. "But, y'know, you did seem to be particularly interested with Keith earlier..."
"Okay," Lance snapped, a little louder than was completely necessary. "Let's just move along!"
"No, no, I mean- I haven't seen you pick somebody up in a while, huh? Keith must be pretty special for that kind of treatment, eh?"
"I have a question!" Lance demanded, doing his best to ignore the flush over his cheeks. "Remember?"
"Right, right. What did you need?" Hunk laughed.
Lance sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. He was never going to hear the end of this.
"I, uh-" he sighed, trying to find a way to avoid the obvious. "I was doing a little research on The Paladins, and I found this performance with Keith-"
"Oh, Keith again? I thought you just said that-"
"I know! I know, just shut up" he hissed through clenched teeth. "You didn't let me finish."
"Fine, then go ahead," Hunk dared, an all-too-knowing smirk painted over his lips. Damn him and his stupid patterns, he could see right through Lance. His smile only grew at the silence that followed, resting his chin on the back of his propped-up hand. "That good, huh?"
"Just listen, okay? I really don't need your sass right now, Hunk."
"Alright, alright, I'm done," he laughed quietly. "Talk to me. I want to hear all about your pining adventures."
"I'll just be ignoring that," Lance muttered. He inhaled, running a hand down his face before facing his friend again. "I was researching The Paladins because I figured that, y'know, I should maybe know something about the people I'll be working with for the next month and a half."
"Which is fair," Hunk nodded.
"And I wanted to see some performances they had done before to see what type of dance Keith knew and could perform, so I found some videos, and I- he... h-he.." Lance's voice trailed off, and after a groan in frustration, he grabbed his phone and pointed the camera to the laptop screen. "Just.. look for yourself!"
Hunk took a moment to process the image and smiled. "What? The skirt?"
"The sk- I- Yes, Hunk! The skirt!" Lance sputtered, "What else could I possibly be talking about?"
Hunk laughed aloud, tilting his head back slightly. "Yeah, he does that a lot."
"And?"
"And what?"
"You can't just- I'm gonna need just a little more information than that, Hunk!" Lance boomed.
"There isn't that much to know, honestly," the larger boy shrugged, face softening. "He wears dresses and costumes and this kind of stuff for a lot of his performances. Especially for Martinez, he always wears ballet stuff for her."
"Who?"
"Melony Martinez. She's one of his more requested artists to perform- this song is actually by her! Every time he performs her songs, there's always the ballet themes. It's kind of become a little easter egg for people to look for at performances. This is one of the more tame ones, actually, I've seen him go full Swan Lake before."
"Excuse me?"
"We might still have the outfit at the studio, actually! I'm pretty sure they keep all the costumes after. You can probably ask Coran about them and he'll-"
Hunk was cut off by a shrill beeping coming from a room that Lance wasn't able to see from his screen, and watched as his friend's eyebrows shot up behind his bangs and his eyes went wide, immediately standing up in reaction.
"The cake!"
And just like that, he was gone from Lance's sight. The Cuban blinked, taking a moment for his brain to catch up with his eyes. He paused for a beat, waiting to see if his friend would return to the screen. When he didn't, Lance's eyes skimmed over his computer screen. The next videos in his queue were similar to those he had previously viewed, and he could spot multiple other videos in which Keith adorned a dress. While those videos were certainly of interest to Lance, what really caught his eye was one thumbnail in particular. It was unlike the others- much calmer, much less "pop star" and more "school talent show". Keith sat alone on a stool with an acoustic guitar in his hands, secured around his body with a strap. The lighting wasn't nearly as stark as the screaming stage lights, now replaced with a single, softer spotlight. Even Keith's features seemed more delicate, and the fire Lance had recognized in his eyes earlier completely drained. He hesitantly clicked the link and was greeted with what seemed like a phone-filmed recording from the seats.
It started on Keith, who was plucking and tuning the strings of his guitar. It then panned over to the right to show Pidge with Matt, Sam, Hunk, Allura, and Coran sitting in the seats that followed. While everyone certainly looked happy, Pidge seemed particularly thrilled, legs crossed in their chair as they bounced slightly in their seat with a hand over their smile. Lance made a mental note in the back of his head that the rest of the theatre was completely empty. The camera swirled back to Keith, who had finished his preparations and was sending over a gentle smile.
"Ready?"
Lance couldn't hear any verbal confirmation, but Keith started playing anyway, so he just assumed something had happened out of frame. Pidge seemed to be able to pick up on the tune almost instantly, an audible gasp able to be heard. The phone swung back over to the younger performer, who had stood up from their seat and had what Lance saw as aggression painted on their face. "No! No, fuck you, Keith!"
A ring of laughter chimed between the makeshift audience, including Lance himself. If it wasn't for the obvious smile that Pidge was attempting (and failing) to hide, he would've thought that they were honestly livid with the older boy. It seemed like everyone else came to this realization too, and the camera filmer reached a hand out to pat Pidge gently on the shoulder.
"Is something wrong?" They asked innocently, a voice Lance couldn't quite recognize.
Pidge whipped around to face the camera person, the same aggressive-joy from before still present in their features. "Fuck off, Shiro! You know exactly what's wrong!"
Lance could see Matt in the background, previously doubled over from laughter, pull at the end of their sweatshirt and drag them back into their seat, where he wrapped his arms around them in an embrace, still giggling profusely. Pidge made a pathetic attempt to resist their brother's hug before submitting to his cling, and they curled up in their seat once again, hiding their face in their hands as the others continued their mild banter. The chatter only fell still once Keith actually began to sing, his eyes trained down to the instrument in his hands.
"You said they make fun of your body," he started, voice raw and completely unaltered. "Humiliation in your eyes when you told me."
Oh.
Oh.
Oh no.
"Well I'm gonna find them, don't you worry," Keith looked up from the guitar, sending a lopsided grin (that absolutely did not make Lance's heart flutter) over to Pidge."I'll make sure they're really fucking sorry." He could hear Pidge giggle at the extra emphasis Keith pinned to the end of the line.
"You said you're embarrassed of your body, you told me you think you're really ugly. Well, my love, I know you don't see what I see."
Fuck, he had though Keith's voice was nice in the other songs? This was beautiful. The way it was so untouched by any aftereffects or autotune and left it so natural made the song sound almost hypnotic, and Lance couldn't help but be sucked into the trance.
"Anything that is beautiful, people want to break, and you are beautiful, I'm afraid." The camera switched back to Pidge again, who had curled into themselves even further, now peaking through their fingers. "Anything that is beautiful, people want to break, and you are beautiful, I'm afraid."
Hunk had come back into the frame at one point.
"Lance! Gosh, I'm sorry about that, I had to make sure the cake didn't burn, and I wanted to send Shay a picture because it was made of her durians, and she had wanted to see what I was making with them. And then Shay wanted to talk to me, and I can't say no to her, she's honestly the sweetest thing, and I got a little carried away until I realized that you were still on the line, so I had to say goodbye to her so I could come back here. Yeah, sorry about that." Hunk sent Lance a guilty smile and a small round of nervous laughter with the apology, which, by the looks of things, wasn't needed in the slightest. Lance didn't even seem to register that he had said anything. He realized that his friend's attention was turned elsewhere, but he couldn't tell what exactly was holding his gaze.
"Whatcha looking at?"
The words flew over right Lance's head completely, eyes still fixated on the video in front of him.
"You said you're ashamed of your body, you'd rather die than show me."
"Lance?"
"But I would love you in any form you'd take."
"Are Keith and Pidge dating?" Lance finally barked out, looking over at his phone screen to look Hunk in the eyes. Hunk was a little startled with his companion's sudden return to consciousness, taking a moment before answering.
"What?" He asked. "No." Hunk paused for a moment, lips fading back into a smile. "No, they're not dating," he chuckled quietly. "God, no. Pidge is asexual-aromantic, and even if they weren't, Keith is way too gay to date them. Nothing against Pidge, though, they're honestly the cutest little sweetheart when you get to know them, despite what they may tell you." He paused again, face falling slightly. "Don't tell them I said that."
Lance fell silent again, glancing between Hunk and the video.
"Huh."
"Why?"
The Cuban paused, eyes shifting once again.
"It's... nothing."
His focus shifted back to the video, he'd missed a small chunk of the current verse talking to Hunk.
"Well, my love, I hope you trust me," The camera swerved to show Pidge, now standing up, hand over their mouth. Lance could see the twinkle of tears in their eyes as they walked toward the stairs of the stage, making their way up as Keith just finished his song. "When I say you have a perfect body."
Pidge had made their way all the way up the stage and next to Keith, pressing a palm against their eyes and wiping away the moisture. "You asshole," they cried weakly. Keith swung his guitar onto his back and opened his arms to his smaller companion, who gladly took the chance, nearly throwing themselves into his embrace. He could hear the coos and words of admiration from the others in the audience, and he could see Keith's gentle smile just over Pidge's cloud of light brown hair.
"So... what're you looking at?" Hunk repeated, now able to catch his friend's attention.
"Oh! Uh," Lance shook his head, picking his phone up. "I'll send you the link," he mumbled.
A familiar 'ping' rang from Hunk's phone as he received Lance's message, and his facetime screen went blank as he looked at it.
"Oh, this! Ohhh, I forgot about this," Hunk chirped, a nostalgic heaviness to his voice.
"What is it?" Lance asked.
"It was Pidge's birthday a few weeks ago," Hunk said, staring down lovingly at the screen. "Keith decided that he was going to perform a little private concert for Pidge and the others at Altean for his present to them, 'cause they're always trying to one-up each other with the better birthday presents every year. He did a few of their favorite songs, which was pretty funny, and this was his finale."
He paused, expression growing bittersweet. "They were going through a really hard spike of dysmorphia at the time. They'd freak out a lot and get these really bad panic attacks for the week leading up to their birthday. They'd mentioned a few times how much they liked to listen to that song when they were upset, so Keith decided he would sing it for them personally."
Lance could feel his heart melt. "That's... really sweet of him."
"Yeah," he smiled, "He's also a big softy once he warms up to you, no matter what he says. Getting those walls down can cause a little trouble, though."
"Hm."
A silence fell to their voices, the only noise coming through the video that Hunk locked his eyes on.
"Hey, Hunk?" Lance asked softly.
"Mmm?"
"He's really pretty."
-- -- --
Keith wasn't too surprised to be the last person to arrive at the studio. It wasn't unusual for the coffee buyer of the week to be the final person at work, especially now that their group to buy for had been growing recently. He passed Shiro on his way up, getting some half-baked explanation as to what he was doing where Shiro was going too fast to really make sense, so Keith just nodded and handed him his cup and continued on his trek to his studio. Into the elevator and past the vocal lessons that were always way too loud, and he finally stood in front of the glass doors to his favorite studio in the building. Using an elbow to push the door open while protecting the drink trays in his hands proved more difficult than he would've liked, but he ignored it, pushing himself inside.
It was still new to see Lance among the group, the unmistakable glow of tan skin standing out next to Pidge. He decided to avoid that situation, for now, not wanting to be chewed out by Lance for "being too stubborn" and "refusing to cooperate" with him the previous day. He instead took a sharp turn to the left, finding Hunk typing something into his phone. The smaller boy set the trays down with a huff, taking Hunk's cup out and sliding it over the counter to him. The cup caught his attention, looking up to see the visibly exhausted boy across from him.
"Good morning, Keith," he smiled. "Sleep well?"
"Not exactly," he sighed, raking a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Was up all night talking Pidge." He looked over to the said gremlin, who only looked to be in slightly better condition. Their body was probably used to lack of sleep more than his, and he despised them for it. Pidge noticed Keith's gaze from across the room, sending back over a knowing smirk and wave. Lance, previously talking to them, noticed and looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with the older boy. He held his gaze for a few seconds before his face twisted into excitement.
"Keith!" The Cuban boy called from across the room, pausing the conversation he had previously been having with Pidge. Keith groaned, burying his face in his arms on the counter. He didn't even need to see Pidge's stupid face too know that they had the same stupid smile that they always wore when they knew he was in trouble. "Keith, hey!" Lance called again, voice much closer than before. He raised his head and turned to look at Lance, catching Pidge's shit-eating grin that they made no effort to hide from the corner of their eye. He sighed again, looking back to Lance with a forced smile. Before he could greet him, though, Lance cut him off.
"You didn't tell me you wore drag!"
Before Keith even got a chance to register the entire sentence, Pidge was already screeching with laughter from across the room. At least Hunk was polite enough to try and hide his giggles. Despite his attempts, though, it did nothing to help the roaring blush that flared onto his face.
"I-- W-What?!" He stuttered. He stepped back, only managing to pin his back against the counter.
"I saw some of your videos! When did you start wearing drag?" Lance continued enthusiastically, grabbing Keith by his hands. The other boy flinched at the sudden contact, but Lance held a firm grip on his palms, only pulling them closer.
"I, uh-" Keith bit down on his lip, trying once again to fruitlessly pull back his hands. He looked away, eyes landing on Pidge with pleading eyes. Their smile only grew as they strolled over to the pair, standing next to Lance.
"Yeah, Keith, when did you start dressing in drag?"
Pleading turned to anger in an instant, and Keith could practically feel the joy radiating off of the smaller of the gremlin.
"Will you show us?" Lance asked eagerly, squeezing the pale boy's hands in his own.
"What? No! I'm not-- We don't even have the-"
"Actually, we do have the outfits," Pidge cut in. "In fact, we just got Shiro to go find them for us to see!"
"What?" Keith stared at them in disbelief. This was all moving so fast, goddanm it. One moment he was just trying to have a nice conversation with Hunk, and the next thing he knew, Lance and Pidge were making Shiro go find the stupid outfits he'd worn from older performances and was apparently about to be wearing again.
And, like a fucking script, there he was. Shiro pushed the door open, pulling a mobile clothing rack full of far too many outfits covered in a protective sheet that hid them from view. Allura, Matt, Sam, and Coran trailed behind him, each holding their own covered garment. Keith stared at the spectacle in utter disbelief as the others chittered eagerly about god knows what, showing each other the outfits they held. He marched over to his step-brother, already fuming, and hissed, "What is this?"
Shiro smiled down at his baby brother, putting a hand on his ruffled black hair. "Lance wanted to see some of the old outfits you've worn from some previous concerts," he explained simply.
"And you agreed?" Keith snapped back, smacking gesturing to the clothing rack beside them.
"From what I've heard? You two desperately need some bonding time," Shiro raised an eyebrow. "And, besides, it's been a while since you've worn any of these outfits, and you always did look so pretty in them."
Keith's cheeks burned even hotter than before. Okay, so now Shiro was in on this too. Was anyone still on his side?
"You did look cute," Hunk added quietly, a guilty smile on his face.
Apparently not.
"I- I am not cute!" he sputtered, whipping around to face the larger boy, fists now clenched at his side.
"Oh, stop whining, you big baby," Pidge scolded, pinching his cheek. "Do this one first, it's one of my favorites." They shoved a covered hanger into his hands, letting his face go and pushing him towards the connected bathroom to the room.
"Don't I get a say in this?" he hissed back, eyeing at the plastic covering in his arms. Their favorite? That couldn't be good. If he knew anything about Pidge, it was that they found tremendous joy out of his suffering, and he had an itching suspicion that this time wouldn't be any different.
"Nope!" They sang, delivering one final shove into the small room and slamming the door behind him. Keith cried a yell of protest, pounding the door with a fist before sighing. Fine, whatever, this was fine, it wasn't like people hadn't seen him in this stuff before. He'd practiced in each outfit countless times before, and if his team wasn't desensitized to them by now, then he didn't know what to say. Lance, however, wasn't on his team.
But that didn't matter!
Nope, no way, no siree, it certainly did not matter to him, not at all. Why? Because he didn't care what Lance thought about him, that's why. Why would he care? It wasn't like Lance mattered to him or anything. It wasn't like he wanted to impress him or anything. Psh, impress him? Why would he ever want to do that? Certainly not because he was incredibly handsome and gorgeous and beautiful in every way. Certainly not because his smile was brighter than any stage light that he was forced to stare at for hours at a time. And certainly not because he had any kind of crush on him. And he didn't have a crush on him, alright? Definitely not. So it clearly wasn't the reason for anything. Lance? Mattering? To him? Ha, absolutely not. What a stupid thought. Completely ridiculous. Simply preposterous.
Mind focusing back on the sheet of plastic in hand, Keith hesitantly reached for the zipper. He knew that he wasn't going to like what Pidge had picked, he knew it was going to be so stupid and humiliating and wanted nothing more than to just go home and sleep and not have to deal with this shit so early in the morning. Finally, he unzipped the plastic wrapping, letting it fall to the floor as he stared at the monstrosity in his hands.
He remembered this outfit.
He hated this outfit.
God, of course Pidge wanted him to wear this. A golden corset with too many almost-real gemstones to possibly count and a pair of high-top, tight, black shorts with golden buttons lining the sides. That would've been bad enough for him, but lo and behold, the worst was still yet to come. Folded together with a makeshift strap, a cluster of white feathers dropped into his hands. Undoing the strap, the delicate feathers fell into place in a peacock-like tailpiece. He knew the harness hanging down was supposed to wrap around his waist, completing the carnival dancer look. He knew that the team had all adored this outfit when he'd worn it, but he would've been just as contempt burning it to ashes. It made doing anything incredibly tedious and difficult, and if that wasn't reason enough to despise its existence, then the fact that it was one of the most embarrassing pieces he'd ever worn would do it. And they wanted him to wear it. Again. Because he needed more "bonding time" with Lance, whatever that meant.
This was going to be a long day.