Chapter Text
Despite being a poorly organized car wash, the team couldn’t have picked better timing. Keith needed some mindless work to avoid Pidge and Hunk so that they wouldn’t bring up the party and the nosebleed… And the frat guy that had commandeered all of Keith’s day dreams. He was also thankful that he wasn’t the one whoring himself out on the curb with a neon orange poster board sign that read:
SUPORT GARRISON
TECH RUGBY
WE BROKE CARWASH.
Although someone could have consulted him on the illegible sign.
But Keith shouldn’t have let himself be subdued with this false sense of thankfulness. Shiro was especially good at showing up at inopportune times. Well, at least for Keith. Come to think of it, anytime was likely to be a bad time for Keith.
A blue car pulled into the sad parking lot that the team sort of had permission to use. The indifferent kid behind the counter at Long John Silver’s just shrugged and said whatever, and Ballsac said whatever and here they were. Washing cars. And whatever. The window of the blue car rolled down and Keith immediately recognized an enthusiastic Shiro in the driver’s seat and an unenthusiastic Lance in the passenger seat.
The entire team raised eyebrows at the fraternity bumper sticker and so Ballsac waved Keith over to speak with his “friend”.
“He’s not my friend,” Keith protested, but no one else was willing to approach the car. Either frat guys had cooties or the ruggers didn’t trust themselves to engage in conversation without throwing punches. But Keith decided that most likely none of his teammates wanted to give the frat guys the upper hand if they were pulling off another prank, such as driving off before paying for a half-assed car wash.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Keith hissed. “I thought you didn’t own a car.”
“I don’t. This is my friend’s car,” Shiro said.
“You borrowed a car to come to our carwash?”
“Yeah.”
Keith stepped back and looked over the car. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on the damn thing. “It doesn’t even need to be washed.”
“I didn’t want you to have to work too hard,” Shiro said, digging out his wallet. He held it between his thighs—o h dear lord— and fished out a fifty-dollar bill.
“No. Are you serious?” Keith asked while desperately trying to drive fantasies from his head involving Shiro crushing him with those thighs.
“Yeah, I am. Lance, did you say hi?”
“Hey, Mullet,” Lance grumbled, arms crossed in the passenger seat.
Ballsac strode over at the sight of a large bill and plucked it from Shiro’s hand before any prank could be pulled. “Thanks for your contribution. Rookie, wash the car.”
“But it doesn’t even need—Ugh, whatever.”
“Can I talk to you?” Shiro asked.
“I guess,” Keith said, filling a bucket.
“I’ll stay away from the hose,” Shiro teased as he opened the door and stepped out. He was wearing a black tank and Keith was relieved that the color wouldn’t be too problematic if it happened to get wet. Lance sulked away from his car, questioning his big’s motives. Without breaking continuity in his mopey arm-crossing, Lance leaned against the near-empty Long John Silver’s—honestly who even ate at Long John Silver’s anymore?—and glared at Keith.
“So, what happened last night? Where’d you go?” Shiro asked as Keith buried his forearms in cold soapy water.
“I just wasn’t feeling well. I drank too much,” Keith sort-of lied. He’d definitely had too much to drink but he knew that wasn’t the reason he’d acted so strangely. “I drank all day, starting with the game, so...”
“Well, technically I did, too.” Shiro’s eyes then darted around, looking to see if Ginger Spice was present and in earshot. “Come on, is that really why you left?”
Keith’s hands emerged with a large sponge and took to cleaning Lance’s stupid blue car, furiously scrubbing at the metal flake while his mind sorted through excuses. Leaning over the hood, he felt the suds begin to soak through his shirt. He briefly considered getting his entire shirt wet and giving Shiro a taste of his own medicine, torturing him with something he couldn’t realistically have. But he knew that would backfire. Shiro would probably make a scene and Keith needed this guy out of here before he drew suspicion. “It was just…”
“Too fratty? The party was too fratty? Am I too fratty? Oh god, I never thought about that,” Shiro said, suddenly beside himself for imposing his frattiness on others. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked.”
Shiro had just given Keith the opening of a lifetime. Or at least an opening out of this particular predicament. Fuck Pidge and their whole thing about love being more important than a ridiculous piece of paper even when said ridiculous paper finally gave Keith a sense of belonging. “Yeah,” Keith spat. “You should’ve asked.” He violently submerged the sponge in a display of anger which defeated the purpose because a small fleck of foam landed on the tip of his nose and probably looked fucking adorable. He quickly wiped his face on his sleeve and walked away to wash the other side of the car to shield himself from Shiro’s reaction. When he peered over the hood, Shiro’s shoulders were slumped and that silver twinkle in his eyes was gone.
“Stop washing the car, this is silly,” Shiro said. “You were right. It didn’t need to be washed in the first place,” he added under his breath.
Keith tried to ignore that I’m-a-complete-asshole feeling. “You can have your money back.”
“No, you guys deserve it. Your funds probably go to fixing all the crap that the fraternity does to the field. I’ll stop bothering you.”
Keith tamped down his guilt and sprayed the suds off of the car before standing aside to let Shiro drive out of his life. He could feel eyes burning holes in the back of his head and hoped they belonged to Pidge or Hunk or Lance—as long as it wasn’t the entire rugby team. He watched Shiro steal one last sad glance at Keith before he got in the car. Lance followed shortly after with a bounce in his step now that he was done with this super lame carwash and could get back to playing flip cup or quarters or whatever the hell that annoying kid did in his free time.
The car drove off and Keith’s mood sunk to new lows. Trying to not let it show, he straightened his spine and avoided making eye contact with Pidge who was definitely analyzing the scene that had just occurred. Why did Keith always feel like the center of unwanted attention? Not that he didn’t want Shiro’s attention. It just conflicted with everything Keith thought he knew about himself and the way of the world. For example: I’m a dog person. I feel like dogs get me. I do not like talking to people. It’s just the way I am. And people, especially good-looking, well-liked people are not genuine and mess with my head. It’s how things are. It’s how we organize ourselves into arbitrary groups, social classes, and personality—
“Dorothy!”
Keith snapped out of his head and spun around. Ballsac did not look happy and motioned for him to come over. And here’s where I get kicked off the team and I didn’t even get a hot boyfriend to justify it.
“Hey, their car was already clean and—” Keith started as Ballsac led him away from their fellow ruggers.
“Just. Stop. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but…”
Keith braced for it. Here it was. He’d violated protocol. He was off the team. Keith began wondering if there were any other club sports he’d be good at. He could try his hand at ice hockey but that equipment probably cost more than his tuition. Curling was actually a thing, right? Billiards? Poker? He could teach himself over winter break. Perhaps bowling? Ribbon dancing? Table tennis? Oh god, the future looked dreary. Keith would be relegated to class and his dorm room without any other contact with outside life because he would be damned if he joined a table tennis team.
“Uh, dude, are you listening?”
“Huh?”
“I said, I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I don’t care. This sort of thing’s never really happened before. It’s just a dumb rivalry that we’ve carried on like the songs and shooting the boot and all of our other traditions. But don’t take it too seriously, you know? Do what you gotta do. Don’t let us get in the way.”
“Um.... We’re not—I don’t really like him, well not that much, it’s like—”
Ballsac rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”
“What about that paper we had to sign?”
“That guy shot the boot for you, complete with Hunk’s foot sweat and Ginger Spice’s pubic hair. He’s not fucking around. And honestly,” Ballsac continued, starting to get that wild look in his eyes, like when he was excited about a particular line-out play, “he’d make a hell of a second row. Marshmallow is studying abroad in the spring and that frat guy would be a fucking truck on the field.”
Keith willed himself to not think of Shiro’s head nestled beside his ass cheek in the scrum. No erections in the scrum. That was probably another rule.
Ballsac continued to fantasize about Shiro throwing his muscular frame around the rugby field. “I mean he could probably play flank and give Shithead’s knee a break. Hell, he could even prop from time to time. He’d have to play tighthead because of his arm...”
The team captain’s words faded to the background, blending with the sounds of traffic and water sloshing and Hunk complaining about god knows what. The idea of Shiro as prop, supporting Keith in the scrum, collaborating side by side, struck a strange cord in his heart. Something deep and meaningful and—dare he think it—meant to be.
“All I’m saying is, whatever you guys are, it’s cool. And we could use him in the scrum if he were so inclined,” Ballsac finished. He turned and walked back to the team, revealing Pidge’s small frame standing a few feet away, giving Keith the I-hear all-and-told-you-so look which Keith pointedly ignored. He had cars to wash. And poor choices to dwell on.
-----
The rugby team finished their fall season just before Thanksgiving and Keith realized, while cramming mashed potatoes into his face surrounded by his pop’s family, that he already missed seeing the frat house and Shiro’s warm smile. And Shiro’s bulging pectorals.
Keith saw Shiro around the science and technology building on a few occasions since the carwash, but Shiro kept his distance and would just give a small polite wave. And Keith just felt ridiculous about how he’d overreacted and pushed him away for no reason other than a fake contract and crappy self-esteem.
With Shiro’s schedule somewhat memorized, Keith was starting to think about approaching him before finals week. After the long winter break, the team would have at least a month of practicing inside the field house instead of the frat house’s extended backyard. If Shiro was a senior, that meant they only had a few months after that for Keith to get his shit together. And so he’d decided now was the perfect time to stop wasting time. What he’d actually say to Shiro he hadn’t quite nailed down. It would be something along the lines of, hey, sorry about everything, would you want to catch a movie before break, I understand if you don’t, you’re probably done with me and don’t even want to be friends, let alone... That whole second half is what kept Keith silent each day.
But today, before Keith lost his opportunity for what might be at least two months, he decided to work up the courage. He caught Shiro between classes on the way to his usual study spot; however, it was Shiro who acted first.
“Keith, got a second?”
His planned and practiced words were completely derailed—not that hey, I’m sorry about everything was that eloquent. Keith’s mouth opened and nothing came out at first. “Uh… sure.”
“How’s studying for finals going?”
“Fine. Without rugby and all that alcohol, I’ve got way more time on my hands.”
“I was wondering,” Shiro started, looking uncharacteristically nervous, “if you’d like to go to the planetarium after finals next week. They do a special on the Winter Hexagon and then they set up their telescope outside and serve hot cider. Last year the Orion Nebula was absolutely stunning. See, I realized what I was doing wrong. Unless, it’s just me in general, then I’ll just stop now.”
“No, don’t stop,” Keith blurted.
Shiro looked like he was mildly surprised and then tried to suppress a hopeful smile. “I thought originally that the parties at the house would be a casual environment to get to know each other, but it was me bringing you into a whole world that you’re not comfortable with. And when I was trying to go to your game, maybe I was imposing on something that’s really important to you and is your space. Really, we should try forging a different world for both of us— okay, not forging a different world, that sounds overly epic, but—”
“I’m cool with forging a different world,” Keith found himself saying. Let’s forge away...
“I meant like, meeting in the middle. Neither rugby field nor frat house. Just something for... us. To get to know each other, I mean. A mutual common ground. That is, if you still want to… Or ever wanted to… I already have tickets. I wasn’t trying to be presumptuous and assume you’d say yes. I just thought you’d be interested and they don’t do very large groups so I got excited and jumped on the tickets.”
“I don’t think it was presumptuous. More like persistent.” For which Keith was grateful because he really didn’t have a plan. He was more of a “dive head first into shit and figure it out along the way” kind of person. But Keith now recognized that Shiro had been strategizing how best to sweep him off of his feet since the day they met.
“Persistent? I feel like that’s the only thing I’ve got going for me lately,” Shiro said.
“You have a lot going on for you.”
Shiro cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
Keith let himself smile, an uninhibited toothy grin. “Yeah. A hell of a lot actually. Not sure why I get to be the lucky one.”
That made Shiro blush and sheepishly scrub his hand over his undercut. “I just… well. After the car accident,” he said, gesturing at his right arm, “I decided that life was too short to spend it second-guessing myself and hiding behind inhibitions. I just go after what I want and do my best. Although I haven’t yet applied that strategy to meeting guys. I just knew you were special when you spit blood at me that first time I saw you. So, sorry for the persistence, I just had a… a feeling. I know that might sound silly, but—”
“No, it isn’t. I’ll go.”
“Oh, you have to go? I’ll walk you to class.”
“No, I meant to the planetarium.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Yeah.” Keith’s grin suddenly twisted into a wince as Shiro wound up for a fist pump. “No. No fist pumping.”
“Sorry! Sorry. I’ll stop.”
“It’s OK, I just need to warm up to the fratty stuff. Little by little.”
“Right.”
“Although, not to mess up this meeting in the middle stuff, but my team captain wants me to recruit you. He thinks you’d fuck people up on the field. In a good way.”
“Actually, I’ve been watching the highlights from the Rugby World Cup. New Zealand is incredible. You really think I could play? I’ve only got a semester left.”
“We practice in the field house in the winter so there’s plenty of time to train, not that you need it,” Keith said, gesturing at Shiro’s abs. “I’m sure the team could get you up to speed quickly.”
Shiro’s face lit up even more. “That would be fun. I’ll have my Ortho check over my sports prosthesis, make sure it still fits. Are you sure this isn’t a ploy to just get the fraternity to leave you guys alone?”
“No, we’re more selfish than that. We’d rather have a good player and increase our odds of winning than have a field free of used push-up bras and broken sporks.”
“Once I start playing, maybe I can ease Professor Holt into the idea of the game. That way he won’t be upset when he finds out Pidge is playing.”
“Pidge might murder you,” Keith said.
“Pidge will murder me,” Shiro agreed.
They fell silent, a cloud of elation enveloping them, the students around them fading to insignificant blurs. Keith was done with feeling embarrassed and anxious and not good enough. And he may have just found a new place where he belonged: lost in Shiro’s eyes.
Shiro’s gaze drifted down to Keith’s lips and he smiled a dreamy, lopsided grin. Keith held his breath as he watched Shiro instinctively lean forward and tip his head to the left. And then he froze, eyes suddenly wide. “Sorry, I uh…”
Keith dove in and kissed the apology off of Shiro’s lips. His mouth was warm and soft and, once he’d gotten over being stunned by Keith’s impetuosity, fit perfectly with Keith’s. Shiro sighed with contentment and Keith poured every ounce of his need into the next kiss to make Shiro sigh again.
“So…” Shiro said as he paused to catch his breath, “I’ll pick you up next Friday?”
Keith shook his head free of his inappropriate-for-school desires. “Are you going to borrow someone else’s car this time?” he teased.
Shiro laughed. “Lance might still be annoyed with me, but he’ll come around. Or we could walk.”
“Let’s walk.”
“I’d like that,” Shiro said. “Okay. It’s a date. Let’s, uh, let’s get you to class before I whisk you off to my place.”
Keith wasn’t sure he could wait an entire week for their date, but he couldn’t miss this crucial last class before finals. “Fine,” he pouted.
Shiro planted a small kiss on his cheek and interlaced his hand in Keith’s. “We’ll have plenty of time,” he murmured, tugging on Keith’s arm to lead him down the hall. They walked hand in hand, Keith’s chest swelling with giddy hope, trusting in Shiro’s words. They had plenty of time. As classmates. As teammates. And more.