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Lance was dying.
Correction: Lance was well past the dying stage, and had stepped full on through those pearly gates in the sky. Yes, he was in heaven.
How else could he explain the absolute angel standing on the stone steps that led down to the grassy area in the middle of the quad. From his spot on the stairs opposite, Lance had a perfect view of said angel, and boy was it hard not to stare.
He was big. Big enough that Lance couldn’t stop thinking about how great it could be to just climb him. And those arm muscles. Guh. Lance was about to spontaneously combust.
Not only was he hot, he was also painfully cute at the same time. Chubby and cuddly, like a big ol teddy bear.
They were too far away for him to really make out much more than the guys smile, but boy what a smile it was. It lit up his face like sunshine. Lance wanted that smile directed at him. Or maybe pressed against his lips. Either way.
Oh right, and then there was the fact that he was playing an upright bass. A bass! In the quad! Who did that?!
“I’m seriously in heaven.”
“That's great, Lance, but I'm in hell trying to finish this paper. Can you please shut up about the cute guy and just go talk to him already?” Pidge muttered, with no real venom. She was too absorbed in writing to even look up, let alone emote anything stronger than mild annoyance and boredom.
Lance pouted anyways. This was the thanks he got for staying up until 2am with her the night before, listening to her wide-eyed excited babbling about some idea she had for building a robot. It had, admittedly, been adorable, but still! He needs his beauty sleep!
“Pidge, I can't just walk up to perfection like that! I need a plan! I need a good line, and a way better outfit, and like… roses? Do you get roses for guys?” He waved his hands helplessly, at a loss.
He was still getting used to being able to freely check out guys. After all it was just barely a month ago that he’d had the revelation that maybe not every straight guy felt a strong desire to kiss other dudes.
So he was bi. No big deal. He could roll with that, no problem. It had barely even phased him. And if anyone (coughPidgecough) said otherwise they were lying.
But, while the gay male population should definitely be rejoicing at their sudden luck, he was still new to this.
“Look, Pidge. You know I have exactly no flirting experience with dudes. Like, I could charm the pants off of a girl no problem, but guys are new territory!”
Pidge snorted. “Name one girl you've charmed the pants off.”
“There have been girls! There have been tons of girls, Pidge. And flowers always work on them!” Lance huffed in outrage. Lance hadn’t actually tried flowers, but he was certain they would have worked if he had! “Are you telling me that if I gave you flowers right now you wouldn’t swoon into my arms?”
She finally looked up at that, for the first time in hours. Which is impressive, since she hadn’t even lifted her head when Hot Bass Guy started playing, or when the girl wearing what looked to be glittery 8 inch stiletto heels (in the middle of the afternoon for some reason) had whipped one off to threaten a creep who wouldn’t stop catcalling her. Lance had honestly never felt more pride, and had let her know it. But even his “You go girl!” hadn’t coaxed Pidge’s eyes away from her work.
“If you gave me flowers I'd sneeze in your face,” she said flatly.
Lance’s mouth fell open, his hand pressed to his chest. “Wow, Pidge! Rude! And weirdly specific?”
His friend sighed, shaking her head. “Allergies, Lance,” she reminded him. She turned to glance over at Hot Bass, and blinked, adjusting her glasses (which Lance knows is just for show, because those glasses are fake as hell. She only wears them for the aesthetic.)
“Oh hey, that's Hunk from engineering. I didn’t know he played an upright bass,” she hummed thoughtfully, completely oblivious to the way her words had just turned Lance’s world on it’s side.
“You know him?! You know him, and his name is Hunk ?!”” Lance screeched, before quickly lowering his voice. “His parents named him Hunk?! Hunk! As in the perfect word to describe what he would one day grow into?”
Pidge huffed. “Yeah. I asked him and it's not a nickname either.”
Lance made an incomprehensible noise that was in a decibel only audible to dogs. “That's like if my parents had named me Perfect Hair, or Flawless Complexion or something!”
“Riiiiight…” Pidge rolled her eyes. “ Anyways, he’d definitely go for flowers. He’s even softer than you dude, and that’s saying something.”
Soft. He’s a softy. Oh god, Lance was melting.
“He looks soft,” he sighed, dreamily.
“Gross?” Pidge said, scrunching up her nose. “Seriously, why don't you just go talk to him instead of standing over here staring like a Neanderthal.”
“Pidgey, I told you I can't- I can't just… oh no...” He trailed off nervously as a wicked expression crossed her face. “Okay, Pidge, I just want to remind you that we're friends. I want you to think about whatever you're about to do and-”
Pidge smiled serenely at him, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted.
“Hey, Hunk!”
Lance yelped indignantly, barely stopping himself from hiding his face in his hands. Which was a good thing because it meant he didn't miss the adorable look of confusion on Hunk’s face. The one that slowly transformed into the brightest smile on god’s green earth.
“Holy shit,” he whimpered as Hunk immediately began packing up his bass. “Oh holy shit, holy fucking shit Pidge! He's coming over.”
“Yup,” she smiled, a cheerful little devil out to torture him. “He sure is.”
The wait was enough to have Lance jittering out of his skin. He frantically ran his fingers through his hair a few times, all confident comments about perfect hair put aside in the face of the actual crisis of the cutest boy in the world heading in their direction.
“Hey Pidge! How's it going?” he said when he finally graced them with his beautiful presence. Casual. Like his voice wasn't just as pure and good and attractive as the rest of him. Like it wasn't turning Lance's knees to jelly.
“In hell,” she said cheerfully, but she was smiling warmly, and didn’t seem like she was near an educational meltdown anymore. She wasn’t even going back to typing frantically on her laptop.
Hunk was a miracle worker.
“Aren’t we all,” he replied, too cheerful and warm to really be believed. Then, in a heartstopping moment of time, chocolate brown eyes were suddenly being turned Lance’s way.
“Hi, I’m Hunk,” he extended his (big, beautiful, totally sexy) hand, and Lance froze for a split second in time, overwhelmed.
Then, as though a dam had broken, his hand was in Hunk’s and his eyes were flicking down to their hands, before climbing, slow, back up to Hunk’s face.
“Yeah, you really are,” Lance said, thankful that flirt-mode had engaged through his panic, and even more thankful to be blessed by the lightest hint of colour rising in Hunk’s cheeks. “I’m Lance, but you can call me anything you like, big guy.”
Hunk blinked in surprise as Lance winked flirtatiously, and then suddenly he was laughing in delight.
“Please ignore him,” Pidge sighed as Lance struggled between disappointment at the reaction and delight at how warm and fluttery Hunk’s laughter made him feel inside. “He is actually the worst.”
“Nah,” Hunk said, eyes no longer meeting Lance’s. “I think he’s… I mean he’s um… fun.” His smile was honest, and adorably shy.
Lance practically glowed at this testimonial. That was going to be in his Oscar acceptance speech. His grave was going to read ‘Here lies the devilishly handsome Lance McClain. Hunk thinks he’s… I mean he’s um… fun.’
“See Pidge! Your friends clearly have better taste than you! And hey, speaking of taste! Pidge and I were just about to go grab some lunch. You wanna come?” You want my number? Want to date me? Want to get married and have three kids and a perfect life and grow old together? He managed not to say. It was a close call though .
“We were?” Pidge asks, glancing up at him in confusion.
“Yup. We were,” he states firmly, his eyes never leaving Hunk.
Hunk glanced at Pidge in amusement before settling back on Lance. “Sure. Where did you have in mind?”
Lance smiled wider, not even deterred when Hunk turns his gaze away, suddenly seeming very interested in what Pidge is doing.
“You ever been to La Buena Vida?” he asked, bouncing on the balls of his heels.
If Lance had to pick a colour for Hunk in that moment, it would be yellow. Yellow and warm like the sunshine beating down on them. Yellow like a daisy, so sweet and pretty and excited at a few simple words.
Lance had also thought he was more into ladies, but he was going to have to reevaluate his Kinsey Scale score after today. He was definitely at least a 3, maybe even a four after meeting Hunk.
“That's one of my favourite food trucks,” Hunk gushed, his hands clasped up against his chest and stars in his eyes.
“Hunk is a gourmand,” Pidge explained, which told Lance absolutely nothing. “A foodie,” she clarified. “I had to ask too.”
“Buena is amazing,” the foodie in question sighed dreamily.
“Dude, yes! I knew you'd have good taste! Hope you're feeling Puerto Rican, Pidgey, ‘cause we're about to do some easy living.”
Pidge rolled her eyes, already packing her laptop into her bag. “When have I ever turned down food?”
In a fit of bravery befitting of a superhero or a valiant knight of old, Lance looped one arm through Pidge’s and the other through Hunk’s. They were going to look incredibly stupid with Hunk lugging a frankly enormous instrument around (like it weighed nothing! Lord he was strong) but it felt right.
“What are we waiting for then! Let’s go,” he cheered, and if he edged just a little bit closer to Hunk, and squeezed his arm just a little bit tighter, no one had to know.
……….
La Buena Vida was, in Lance’s not-so-humble opinion, the best food truck around. The food was pretty close to some of the stuff his mom liked to make, came in huge quantities and was as easy on his wallet as Hunk was on the eyes.
So yeah, he had just met him, but Lance was already obsessed.
“Coran, my main man!” He said, leaning casually on the little shelf under the truck window.
The truck’s red headed worker appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, a bright smile firmly affixed on his face, right under his glorious and securely hair-netted moustache.
“Lance! Have you been using that hair tonic I gave you?” Coran’s beautiful accent graced his ears. Coran was basically Lance’s bisexual mentor, which meant he had earned Lance’s eternal respect and adoration. For an old dude, he was super cool.
“Would my hair be this soft and shiny if I wasn't? Probably. But I've been using it,” Lance grinned. “Is the boss lady in today?”
“No, but I convinced Allura to come in!” he said proudly. A true achievement since his step-daughter loved her dad, but also loved her ten thousand volunteer organizations far more than she tolerated working in the food truck with him.
“Hey, ‘Lurra, what's cookin’” he’d normally add ‘good looking’ but normally he didn’t have a wickedly attractive, kind, sweet boy still clinging to his arm (despite the fact that Pidge had let go a few minutes ago).
“I’m good, Lance,” she said wary and confused, her accent soft. Looking up her eyes darted to Lance, then to Hunk, and she grinned knowingly. “Hello, Lance’s friend. And Pidge! How are you darling?”
“Hi,” the little gremlin chirped, smiling sweetly and leaning up onto the counter too. “Good to see you Allura. Can I get extra plantains again? You make them the best.” For some reason Allura tended to favour Lance’s tiny roommate over him. There was just no accounting for taste with some people.
Lance huffed and bounced on his heels, ignoring the girls in favor of watching out of the corner of his eye as Hunk chatted with Coran.
All dramatics aside, the guy was beautiful. His eyes were expressive, soft and warm brown. His hands were big, and always moving, and he was immediately open and friendly with both Coran and Allura, as though they were all old friends. It made Lance’s heart beat just a little bit harder in his chest.
They got their food and sprawled out on the grass at the park across the street, tearing open their takeout containers like a pack of wild, half-starved animals.
“Oh my god,” Hunk groaned, muffled by a mouthful of arroz con gandules y lechón. “So good.”
Lance stared, utterly transfixed.
Oh boy. His voice got so deep . And with his eyes closed like that, head tilted just a bit back…
Pidge, sensing the direction his thoughts had turned, promptly elbowed him in the side. Hard.
“Ow! See if I give you a bite of my sandwich now,” he pouted as he rubbed at his sore side.
Pidge rolled her eyes. “You're too nice to keep it to yourself. All I have to do is give you half hearted puppy eyes and it's on my plate.”
A glance over told Lance that Hunk was looking on, amusement and something softer playing across his expression. Lance had to look away before he drowned in it.
“Nah no way, I'm tough and strong,” he said, even as he tore off two pieces of his tripleta and handed them to Pidge and Hunk.
Hunk’s eyes practically watered as he thanked him, and when he took a bite he closed them in absolute bliss.
“I know right?” Lance laughed, delighted. “Every time my family goes to Cuba to visit we go to this food truck, El Panino. I swear they must import this, because it tastes almost exactly the same.”
“Oh man, there’s this Japanese place back home that’s kind of the same thing. The sushi tastes amazingly close to what I had on my trip to Japan,” he reminisces fondly.
Pidge perked up at that. “You’ve been to Japan? Did you go on one of the bullet trains?”
Hunk nodded, eyes lighting up in a similar way to how they had at the food on his plate. Lance’s ‘Boring Engineering Talk’ Senses started tingling. Hard.
“And you like sushi!” he cut in quickly, earning a glare and another elbow from Pidge. “Have you ever been to Yasu? It’s seriously delicious.”
Hunk blinked, but rolled with the subject change nonetheless.
“I’ve heard of it, but I haven’t had a chance yet,” he replied, as though Lance hadn’t just rudely cut him off. He was too sweet for this world.
Lance grinned and leaned against the bigger man. “Well the obvious solution to that travesty is that we go there tomorrow.”
“That sounds amazing,” Hunk said softly. Sincerely. A little bit shy. “It’s a date.”
Lance choked on a piece of bread.
“Well, I gotta go,” Pidge said abruptly, jumping to her feet. “Nice to hang out with you Hunk. Lance, behave.”
She grinned devilishly at Lance as she passed by, before adding, “And be safe.”
“Pidge!” he chastised, squawking as she walked away. The only response he got was a jaunty little wave over her shoulder. “Sorry about her. She’s evil.”
Hunk nodded seriously. “Oh I know. I saw her make a grown man cower in fear the other day,” he said, shivering. “It was unsettling. She’s usually so sweet.”
“Hah! Pidge?!” he cackled. “I mean she’s okay, but sweet?”
Hunk just shrugged, smiling wryly and taking another forkful of rice.”She is though. And she has good taste in friends.”
Lance’s chest fluttered in a way that would probably have been deeply unhealthy if he didn't know that it was just a symptom of being near what appeared to be the sweetest boy on earth.
“You're a charmer,” he accused, leaning oh-so-casually into Hunk’s space. Their arms pressed together, skin to skin. Sharing warmth. It felt like affection and static electricity and the best kind of buzz Lance had felt throughout his entire college experience.
Hunk scoffed, and offered him a forkful of his rice. Like straight up held out his fork for Lance to eat off of. Which was totally cool and chill and not at all weirdly and amazingly intimate in a way that had pink raising to his cheeks as he opened his mouth.
“Mmm,” he said absently, staring intently at an equally stunned looking Hunk.
The buzz of his phone snapped him out of his ‘holy shit Hunk just fed me and it was so cute and sweet and also weirdly hot?’ daze.
“Sorry, lemme just see who that is,” he said, half convinced it might be Pidge hiding in a tree watching, texting him to say ‘just kiss already.’
When he fished it out of his pocket though, he frowned at Keith’s named on his screen instead of Pidge’s. Ugh. Leave it to Keith to cockblock from the other side of campus.
“Ah crap, I gotta go catch a ride with my other grumpy roommate before he flips his shit and leaves without me,” Lance sighed, standing up and brushing grass off his butt and thighs. “But uh, hey. Did you mean that thing you said? About Yasu and the date?”
Hunk blushed to the roots of his hair. It was waaaay too cute. Lance was dying again.
“Um, well I mean, I uh, I was sort of hoping,” Hunk stuttered out, only pausing when Lance smiled like the sun.
“Great. Can I pick you up at six tomorrow night?”
Hunk’s eyes widened almost comically. And then in a move clearly orchestrated by the heavens to make Lance overload on cute, he buried his grinning face in his hands and nodded.
“Jesus, you are too cute to even be real,” Lance said aloud, because at this point the vicious barrage of cute had completely destroyed the fortress of his brain to mouth filter.
“Oh my god,” Hunk squeaked, “Go meet your roommate.”
Lance grinned, fishing a marker out of his backpack. “Yeah, yeah,” he laughed. “But first…” he grabbed Hunk’s hand and pulled it away from his face, making him squeak and revealing his beautiful blush.
He winked as he scribbled his number on Hunk’s hand.
“Text me,” he said “Or call. Either way, I wanna hear from you.”
Hunk just made a tortured noise at him and took his newly graffitied hand back so that he could cover his face once more.
With a laugh Lance bid him farewell and headed towards the other side of campus where Keith would be waiting and bitchily tapping his foot beside his sporty red motorcycle as he waited for him.
He turned back, just once to wave, and was treated to the delightful sight of Hunk full on happy dancing in the middle of the street.
What. A. Nerd.
Lance couldn’t help the spring in his step as he headed off to meet Keith. This felt like spring. Like the start of something new and good.
He couldn’t wait for their date.