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One thing Keith learned about sharing a space with six other people over an extended period of time was that there was no such thing as privacy. He had gotten lucky during his time in the Garrison, since his roommate spent all of his time with his girlfriend or whatever and was almost never in their shared room. It was almost like having the space entirely to himself. He was always an only child, even in and out of foster care, and he spent an entire year in his shack in almost complete isolation.
So it was a shock, to say the least, when he had to adapt. He constantly found his belongings rifled through. Hunk was actually the worst offender, although he probably didn’t mean anything by it. But Lance could be just as bad. Whenever he would invite himself into Keith’s room, he would always run his hands over everything from the blanket, to Keith’s clothes in his wardrobe, to the bottles of Altean hygiene products in the bathroom. Lance was shocked to find that he only had a bar of a soap-like substance and a bottle of shampoo. Keith didn’t even want to know how much crap was in Lance’s bathroom.
Plus, they had to be ready to form Voltron at any time. The change into paladin armor was a lengthy process, and the entire armory had become a giant locker room where modesty was an impossibility. And despite the Castle-ship having more rooms than he could count, somehow there was never anywhere he could go just to be alone. Sometimes he could get away with a few hours on the training deck before someone came in (usually Lance), or something came up. It seemed that there was always a distress signal, or a diplomatic meeting, or a peace conference of some kind. But he supposed that defending the entire universe left very little free time.
Except today, he wasn’t required to go on the diplomatic meeting. Allura, Coran, and Shiro went on their own to visit the planet. Something about this being a fragile alliance that required a great deal of tact. And that was basically Allura saying that he wasn’t mature enough to handle himself in that situation. It irked him, even if all of the others had been left behind as well.
“Start training sequence, level six.” Keith spun his Bayard in his hand, and waited for the gladiator to appear before him. Training gave him an outlet to release his energy, and it kept his thoughts at bay. His blade locked with the droid, metal clashed with metal, and the sound echoed in the large room. Keith pushed back until his shoulders ached, and shifted his body weight to parry the thrust.
He could feel the faint burn in his muscles that was familiar and comforting, and pushed him to go farther. His grip tightened, and he brought his blade down hard in an attempt to knock the staff out of the gladiator’s hands.
The ship speakers crackled and buzzed and he faltered. It was just for a second, but that was enough time for the droid to knock him back and into the ground.
“Is it working?” Another crackle. Hunk’s voice.
“I think so. But you’re all static-y. Can you clean it up?” This time it was Lance that spoke, from a distance.
Keith groaned and shouted at the computer. “End simulation,” he pushed his hair out of his eyes and stood up. He could not believe that they were messing with the ship’s equipment.
“There, that should do it,” Hunk’s voice again, clearer.
Keith let his Bayard return to its default shape and grumbled as he grabbed his jacket and left the training deck. Allura was going to kill them when she found out.
When he opened the doors to the command room he saw all three of them around a small screen on the central control panel.
“Okay, so we got the speakers working. Now I’ll just…” Lance pulled back from the screen and reached into his pocket. He frowned, and started to check his other pockets.
“Looking for this?” Pidge held up a small black device in one hand. A phone. They scrolled through it without looking up, and when Lance lunged forward Pidge ducked away effortlessly.
“Pidge! How did you—I have a password!” Lance cried out as he made another attempt to grab the phone. Keith found a small sense of pleasure in the bit of karmic justice.
“Yeah, not much of one,” Pidge rolled their eyes. “I hacked it fairly easily. You have a lot of music on here.”
“Pidge!” Lance threw his hands out dramatically. “Hunk! Help me out here.” He looked over at Hunk for help, but Hunk only gave him a sympathetic look.
“Sorry, Lance. I’m staying out of this one,” Hunk looked over at Pidge warily as if some past experience affected his decision.
Keith crossed his arms. No one had taken notice of him yet. “What are you all doing? If Allura finds her equipment messed up, she’s going to wreak havoc on our training regimen.”
Hunk looked over and waved, Lance stopped mid grab, but Pidge did not even glance upwards at him.
“Keith!” Lance cried out, unnecessarily loud as usual. “Pidge stole my phone, I have… things in there! Personal things! Help me.”
Keith raised a brow. “Why should I?”
The theatrical gasp that the brunet paladin made would put the best B movie actresses to shame. Keith’s lips twitched. Despite Lance's theatrics, he could be cute sometimes. On occasion.
“Oh, I’ve seen the personal things,” Pidge chuckled. Lance made a strangled noise, his face red. He made another lunge that Pidge easily side-stepped, and moved over to use Hunk as a human shield. Lance said something under his breath that sounded like Spanish. It didn’t sound like a compliment. Hunk held up his hands in an attempt to diffuse the situation, a sheepish smile on his face.
“Huh,” Pidge looked mildly surprised as they scrolled through the list. “I thought you’d have more, um, crap music. Who is Celia Cruz, anyway?”
Lance huffed, one hand on his hip as he gesticulated with the other. “Who is Celia Cruz? She’s only the Queen and reigning diva of Cuban music.”
“You have Beyoncé…” Pidge remarked.
“Uh, duh? You’ll note I have all of my girls in there.”
Pidge snorted. “I see that. I’m not surprised you have a lot of pop music. Even a lot of salsa. I mean, Hunk said you sing in the shower. Sometimes in Spanish.”
“Hunk!” Lance leveled his glare on his best friend. “Et tu, Brute?”
Keith tried to stifle a laugh, and it came out as more of an awkward cough.
“Sorry, man,” Hunk’s shoulders slumped. “It just sort of came out at dinner one night.” He moved over to a small ledge where a few space juice pouches sat, and grabbed one in an effort to avoid Lance’s accusatory look. He took another pouch over to Lance in an apologetic gesture.
“Anyways, I have excellent taste in music,” Lance looked personally affronted, but he took the offered pouch, and fiddled with the straw. “So give me back my phone and we can decide what to play over the ship—”
“Are you kidding me?” Keith frowned. All three of them turned to look at him. “You hacked into the ship’s system to play music over the speakers?”
“Relax,” Lance rolled his eyes. “We’ll put everything back to normal before Allura even comes back.”
“Lance,” Keith warned. Lance waved his hand as if physically waving the issue away. “Do you even know what connecting Earth technology to this ship’s main system might do?”
Pidge lowered the phone for a moment to look over at Keith. “Hunk created an adapter to connect the two devices, and I ran a diagnostics test on the ship’s computer to test for possible incompatibility issues. There shouldn’t be any problems.”
Keith hesitated. He looked between Hunk and Pidge, pointedly ignoring how Lance stood with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face.
“I’m still surprised it actually worked,” Hunk looked over at the small screen and the black cable there connected to a small power crystal.
Lance nudged his best friend with his shoulder. “’Course it worked. It was my idea.”
“Yeah but Hunk and I were the ones that actually built the thing, and did all the hard work,” Pidge looked down at the phone again.
“Okay, okay. It was a team effort,” Lance shrugged. He took another sip of his juice.
Keith gave up. He threw his hands up into the air a moment before he realized where he had picked the gesture up from. “Fine, but don’t blame me when Allura or Shiro finds out. Ever since she found out what a ‘burpee’ is, she’s been ruthless.” They had Shiro to blame for that one.
Lance groaned. Hunk looked vaguely guilty as he sipped his pouch quietly.
Pidge furrowed their brows. “Wait, who are The Spice Girls?”
Lance choked on his juice pouch. As he was dying, Pidge looked up in confusion.
“That’s the crap music, isn’t it? I knew there had to be some on here,” Pidge adjusted their glasses and smirked.
“Wow, that brings back memories,” Hunk looked over at Lance when he wouldn’t stop choking, “You uh, okay man?”
“I have two sisters! Wait,” Lance almost dropped his drink, “Oh my god. You’ve never heard—where have you been?!” Lance’s voice reached an impressive note.
“No? I think I’ve had more important things to do than listen to bad music,” Pidge almost managed to press play before Lance snatched it from them.
“Nu-uh. You can’t listen for the first time like this, you have to play it loud.” Lance waved the phone in the air as he spoke, and Pidge glared at him as he held it out of reach.
“I’m… going back to the training deck,” Keith mumbled and turned on his heel. There was no way he was going to listen to whatever weird music Lance had on his phone. What kind of name was Spice Girls anyway?
“Nope! No, you - No, no, no. No, you don't,” Lance reached out and grabbed Keith’s wrist, and Keith had a minor sense of déjà vu.
“What—” Keith turned around, and Lance was very much there inside of his personal space bubble. The Cuban boy had a very determined look in his eyes, and Keith had a horrible feeling about this whole situation.
“I can guarantee you’ve never heard it either,” Lance frowned.
“So?” Keith lifted his arm, and attempted to scowl, which was hard when someone was inches from your face. And Lance was still holding his wrist.
“I am going to educate you,” Lance lifted his chin in that way he did when he tried to prove a point.
Did he have to stand so close? Keith’s eyes flickered from Lance’s eyes to his lips for a fraction of a second before he realized he was doing it, and then he pointedly looked away.
“I have better things to do than listen to your weird taste in music,” Keith deadpanned, and hoped his voice and expression appeared sufficiently irritated.
“You’re just afraid you’re going to like it,” Lance quipped.
Keith turned his head to stare at him. “Yeah, I doubt it.”
“Hunk!” Lance turned and called over his shoulder. “Do you still remember the moves?”
Keith blinked. Moves?
“Uh, yeah. Most of them, I think,” Hunk shrugged. “I think the rest would come back after a bit.”
Pidge laughed. “Oh, don’t tell me you have a dance for this? Hunk,” Pidge grinned over at the taller paladin, “I didn’t know you could dance.”
Lance finally dropped Keith’s wrist, and outright beamed. Keith tried to push down the thought that he lamented the loss of contact. “Hunk is awesome on his feet! Right, buddy?”
Hunk shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, I’m not bad I guess.”
“We went to the talent show with this routine. It was before you transferred, Pidge. They only held it once, though. It was supposed to bring cadets together or something, but it was sort of a huge mess.”
Keith vaguely remembered something like that being announced. But he didn’t go, since he really didn’t have any desire to get closer to other cadets when he could be studying or something productive. Also, watching a bunch of strangers sing, dance, or whatever all night didn’t sound very appealing.
“And since neither of you were there,” Lance looked back at Keith briefly, and he wondered how Lance had known he hadn’t gone in the first place. “Hunk and I will generously be recreating that night for your viewing pleasure.”
“Oh,” Pidge smirked, “This should be good.”
Lance turned and pointed dramatically. “Hunk, come with me. I’m going to find the right outfits for us. Neither of you move or I will find you, and drag you back here.” Lance bolted from the room, Hunk sighed before he followed, and Pidge started to dig through their bag for something.
This was not how Keith imagined spending his precious free time. He could easily step out those doors, head for the farthest rooms in the castle, and hide until Lance got bored of looking for him. It would be easy. Except for two things: Lance was frustratingly persistent when he wanted to be, and a small—very small—part of Keith was curious. It definitely wasn’t that he wanted to see what Lance looked like when he danced. Not at all.
He sighed and resigned himself to his fate, before he slumped down in one of the command chairs. Through the viewport, he could see the bright green planet that Shiro and the others had gone to. He couldn’t even remember the name of it. He wondered why the alliance was so fragile in the first place. Those thoughts brought back his irritation.
“Why the annoyed face, Keith?” Pidge stepped in front of him, a blue crystal in their palm. The small rock glowed and projected a screen that acted like a mirror.
Keith blinked as he stared at himself on the screen. “It's nothing,” he muttered. Was that some sort of recording device? When had Pidge gotten one of those?
“Just your usual resting expression then,” Pidge hummed. Keith made an annoyed grunt, but said nothing further.
“Where did you get that thing, anyway?” It was weird to stare at himself. He felt vaguely self-conscious.
Pidge shrugged. “There's an entire box of them in the lower storage room. Alteans used them to record messages and video. Most of the recorded ones are distorted now, but it has been ten thousand years.”
Huh. That could be useful. Maybe they should keep some of those on hand.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Pidge moved to sit in another one of the control chairs, the crystal still recording. Keith wondered why they would waste time recording such pointless conversation.
“Why?” Keith sat up straighter in the chair. “I mean, Lance would just come to pester me if I left, might as well get this over with,” he shrugged.
“Right,” Pidge smirked. “There are only two hundred and twenty nine rooms to choose from. Of course Lance would be able to find you right away.”
Keith blinked. Two hundred and twenty nine?
“It—he has a stupid habit of walking in on me.” Keith turned away and glared out the viewport. And yet, he could feel Pidge’s grin.
Why were they grinning?
It was true. In his room, on the training deck, in the hangar, even in the elevator when he went to check out the pool. Although technically, he was the one that walked into that one.
“Huh,” Pidge remarked, “How strange.”
They fell into silence for a few minutes, although Keith had a feeling the recording device was still on.
When the doors opened again with a quiet swish, Lance half-dragged Hunk behind him.
“Lance, what the hell are you wearing?” Pidge turned in their seat to focus the recording device on the door. Curious, Keith turned to look. And immediately regretted it.
Lance had on a very tight, much too short shirt, and a pair of loose pants that hung painfully, dangerously low on his hips. Considering that his usual clothes showed almost no skin, Keith was stunned to see so much of it.
Lance laughed and spread his arms as he literally sashayed into the room. And okay, he did that from time to time for whatever reason, but it didn’t have the same effect with his normal clothes on. Now? Every exaggerated movement with his hips was on full display.
“There’s a bunch of stuff in this one part of the ship. I asked Coran once if there were any extra clothes, like the robes and the pajamas since, y’know, wearing the same clothes day in and day out can get pretty gross?”
Lance cocked his head to the side as he noticed the recording device, and struck an exaggerated pose for it.
Keith wondered if this was some sort of weird Altean fashion. The pants did look like they were made of the same lightweight material as Allura’s gown. The shirt, if you could call it that, was a pretty shade of blue.
“It feels sort of weird to be wearing someone else’s stuff, man,” Hunk looked far less comfortable than Lance. His outfit was less ridiculous at least. His vest was the typical tapered, angular fashion, similar to Coran’s, although the gold jacket was something new, sleeves rolled halfway up his arms.
“We needed the right clothes for the right performance, Hunk,” Lance popped his hip to the side as he crossed his arms, and Keith couldn’t look away from the way the fabric moved with his body. Lance turned his attention towards Keith, and his expression changed to one of surprise.
“Yo, Keith. You alright?” Lance blinked, and stepped forward. Keith had no idea what his face looked like right now. Pidge was definitely filming it, because he heard a snicker behind him.
“Fine,” Keith spat out, and tried to iron out his features as much as possible.
“Yeah, Keith,” Pidge purred. “Your face is all red.”
Keith wondered what he had done to deserve this. “It’s… second-hand embarrassment. Those outfits look ridiculous on you.”
Lance frowned. He looked slightly hurt actually, and Keith felt a small pang of guilt. But Lance quickly shifted to a smirk, and he leaned too far forward into Keith’s space bubble again.
“Oh, you’re just jealous you didn’t get to try anything on. But I think I saw a cropped jacket in there with your name on it,” Lance slipped into his trademark shit-eating grin. Keith glared at him, because okay, clothes or not Lance could still be obnoxious as hell.
Something was clearly wrong with his brain for thinking that Lance was hot.
“You’re literally wearing the equivalent of a crop top!” Keith shot back. And immediately wished he hadn’t. Because it definitely implied the fact he was thinking about what Lance was wearing more than he should be.
Lance looked surprised for a moment, eyes wide and smile gone. Keith wasn’t sure what to make of his reaction.
When Lance’s smile returned it was slow, and accompanied by half-lidded eyes. When Lance crossed his arms this time, his posture was angled towards Keith.
“All the better to move in. You’ll see.” And with that, he turned and headed towards the command panel, where his phone waited to be attached. He connected the device, flipped through his phone and selected the song medley.
Lance waved towards Hunk, the yellow paladin sighed, and moved towards the front of the room to stand in place. Keith didn’t know what to expect, or what to make of that expression he had just gotten.
What the hell did that mean?
The music did not play so much as blast out of the speakers. Keith almost jumped as a seriously outdated but poppy beat came from each corner in the room.
Lance threw his head back, back straight, and placed his hands on his hips. And then he started to snap them, back and forth to the first beats of the song. It was fast, and fluid, his arms moved to thrust outwards, and then back, hands sliding across his back as he arched forward.
Keith found himself entirely incapable of looking away, because it was incredibly clear that Lance was talented, even when it came to stupid pop music. He didn’t miss a beat, every step, twist, and movement with his arms in time with the beat. He would arch his back, lift his arms, and that stupid shirt would ride up. He would pop his hips, and those pants would swish and cling to the curve of his body.
Lance turned and smiled at Hunk, who matched step-for-step with Lance. And Keith found himself impressed again, because their moves synced up perfectly with one another. And then they split, and Lance did the most pronounced sashay in time with each note at the same time Hunk threw his arms out and they moved around each other in a pair dance, mimicking the words in the song, which Keith had only half been listening to.
Lance would sway, Hunk would twist, and they both moved fluidly across the floor. They returned to matching choreography once more, the moves pronounced and flamboyant. Lance and Hunk shared a grin as they looked at one another. It must have been infectious, because at some point Keith had slipped into an easygoing smile despite the complete ridiculousness of the situation.
The music slipped into a weird sort of rap, and Lance turned his head to lock eyes with Keith. His grin slipped into something coy, and Keith felt something weird twist in his stomach as Lance turned from the stage and started his way.
His hips swayed from side to side as he stepped forward, eyes lidded in the same way as before. Lance lifted his arms before he traced them over his hips. When he turned this time his hand brushed the armrest of the chair, and warm fingers trailed over the back of Keith’s hand. Lance twisted, and threw a wink towards Pidge’s recording before he twirled back around to the front, and arched his back right in front of Keith.
And Keith was absolutely positive his face was red, because he could feel the heat on his cheeks. Lance bit his lip as his head turned towards him, a faint flush across his cheeks. Keith swore under his breath, because there was no way that wasn’t done on purpose.
When Lance returned to the makeshift stage and Hunk, he did so with overly pronounced movements, and Keith had no idea how those stupid pants didn’t fall any lower.
Lance turned and swept his hands outwards in time with Hunk once more as if the whole thing had been planned. They finished the song with a playful salute just as it came to a close.
Lance broke out into a huge grin, and then the two of them busted out laughing. Lance actually doubled over, the sound of his laughter louder and brighter than Keith had heard in months.
“I am so sharing this somehow,” Pidge shut off the recording crystal, a devious look in their eyes.
“Hunk, man, do you remember Iverson’s face after we performed that?” Lance wiped tears away from his eyes with the back of his hand. “He was white as a ghost. We threw the salute at him, I thought we killed him at first.”
“Dude, we got in so much trouble though,” Hunk grinned. “Something about it not being an appropriate song for the occasion, or something.”
“Well, duh,” Lance stood straight up, grin almost blinding. He turned his attention to Keith, eyes full of unbridled mirth. “Keiiiiith!” Lance almost ran over to him. He placed his hands on either armrest of the chair and leaned forward.
Keith forgot how to breathe.
“See? Not too bad, was it? Now you’ve been properly educated,” And that cocky grin was back once again on Lance’s face.
But Keith also apparently forgot how to speak. Or he didn’t know what to say. “Uh,” he muttered eloquently, “Yeah. You dance… good. Well. You dance well,” he corrected quickly. Shit.
The look of pure elation on Lance’s features almost stopped his heart. Actually, he was pretty sure he felt it do a weird flutter thing.
“Guess you picked the right clothes after all, Lance,” Hunk grabbed one of the juice pouches that were still on the ledge, and took a grateful sip.
Lance turned a bright shade of red before he turned over his shoulder, and leveled his best friend with a look Keith wasn’t able to see.
Keith furrowed his brows. “What, you mean there was a reason behind…uh,” Keith trailed off.
Hunk nodded. Lance hissed his name, shoulders tight. Lance still had his hands out on either armrest, which put him close enough for Keith to see the way the blush spread to the tips of his ears.
“I thought it was weird, since there were more sensible clothes in there. But he said it was for an improvised part—”
“Hunk!” Lance shouted, and Keith was absolutely positive that Lance was embarrassed.
“Too much information,” Pidge sighed and toyed with the recording crystal. “Well,” they raised their voice with unnecessary emphasis. “Since I’ve heard and seen way more than I needed to of Lance’s plan to flirt with Keith, I think I’m off.”
Keith had never seen Lance so red, even with his dark complexion it was painfully obvious. Keith knew his own face was no better off.
“Oh, I’ll make lunch! Allura and the others should be back soon, anyway,” Hunk beamed, and turned to follow Pidge.
“H-Hunk, Pidge!” Lance called out. Hunk turned and threw him a thumbs up of all things. Pidge chuckled, and the door closed behind them. Which left Keith entirely alone with Lance.
Lance that had picked out those clothes on purpose. To flirt. With him.
Lance was the first to move. He turned his face back towards Keith, the faintest trace of anxiety in his eyes. He pulled his hands back from the armrests as if he had been burned, and cleared his throat.
Before he knew what he was doing, Keith reached out, his hand gripped Lance’s wrist, and held him in place. Lance turned to look at him in surprise.
“What? No more coy smiles or stupid sashays?” Keith locked eyes with Lance. No way was he going to turn and run away without an explanation.
“You didn’t look like you thought they were stupid a few minutes ago,” Lance’s lips curled up into a crooked smile. He relaxed somewhat, and then turned his body so that he faced Keith once more. Lance pulled his hand back, and then laced their fingers together.
And Keith thought they fit together nicely.
“Should I wear this all the time?” Lance teased. Keith rolled his eyes in response, and Lance laughed. He moved, and suddenly Keith had a lap full of Lance. The boy held their clasped hands together tightly, and rested his forehead against Keith’s.
“Allura is going to murder us if she finds out what happened,” Keith protested half-heartedly. He didn’t want to move to clear away the evidence anymore than Lance did.
“Worth it,” Lance sighed, and he ducked his head down to place a chaste kiss against Keith’s lips.
"How long...?" Keith raised his eyes to meet Lance's.
Lance chewed his lower lip, and shrugged one shoulder. "A while. I just, thought you would have noticed. So I uh, went for a more direct approach."
Direct approach was an understatement. "And you picked... a pop song. Promise me I never have to hear that again."
Lance laughed, his breath warm against Keith's cheek as he moved. "I can't promise anything. You might like some of the other songs on my phone."
Keith groaned. He couldn't believe he had fallen so hard for someone that could have such awful taste.
"Doubt it," Keith mumbled. Lance was about to protest, so Keith laced his fingers in his hair, and pulled him down for another kiss.