Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a normal day.

As always, Keith had woken up that morning to the shouting of his step-brothers. In an act of defiance, he had thrown a pillow over his head and muffled the incessant screeching. In the mornings, his brothers sounded less like humans and more like pterodactyls. For a moment, Keith weighed the idea of falling back asleep but any hopes of another minute of sleep were dashed when someone, probably Sendak, started banging on his door.

With a groan, Keith had swung his feet off of his bed. “I’m coming!” He yelled to the demon that was still hitting the door. He heard a deep laugh and then pounding footsteps leading away from his door. That was definitely Sendak then. Sendak was an oaf, steps heavy and his neck so thick Keith probably couldn’t wrap his hands around it. Lotor on the other hand was a princess. Dainty and fragile, with his steps gliding across any floor he was on and nose constantly raised in the air.

His step-father Zarkon seemed to be a mixture of the two if it was possible. He was equal parts brutish oaf and delicate flower. Whenever Keith looked at him, he couldn’t even imagine why his mother would marry someone like that. Well, he knew the reason. Talia Kogane had been sick for Keith’s entire life, constantly in and out of the hospital. She had been so sick that she couldn’t work, so his father had been the one to support the family. They were always short on money as hospitals were expensive and Keith wasn’t old enough to work. He tried though; when he was four or five he would set up a lemonade stand in the summer and try and help out.

It was in these memories that he could see his dad’s face the clearest. Keith would run up to him with his old tomato soup can he had been using as a cash register in his hand, quarters jangling. Proudly, he’d show it off to his dad. A smile, bright and wide, would come over his father’s face. “Thank you Keith. You’re a good son,” he’d say before pulling Keith into a bone crushing hug.

His father had been in the army and was constantly deployed. When he wasn’t away he worked at an auto shop. The hours were flexible and there were enough guys employed so that when he had to leave for months at a time, it didn’t matter so much.

Keith didn’t remember the day the men in uniform showed up at his door. His mother had told him about it later, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Your papa’s gone Keith. He was saving somebody, but he couldn’t save himself,” she had whispered to him. When she went to brush the bangs out of his face, she could feel her fingers trembling.

“It’s okay Mama. Papa did good. He’s helping,” little Keith had said, unsure of why his mother was crying. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand that he’d never see his father again. Luckily, he was young enough that the experience didn’t traumatize him that much. In the grand scheme of things, he barely knew his father. He was five after all. So when his family gathered for the funeral, no one thought it was strange when Keith didn’t cry.
His mother remarried, desperate for someone to help support her son and herself. Keith didn’t know who this man was, but he knew he was scary and that his two boys were mean and didn’t share their toys. But Zarkon had money, he knew now, so personalities didn’t matter. Not when prescriptions were needed and Keith needed new shoes for school. His mother didn’t love Zarkon, and he didn’t love her but he had needed someone to care for his kids. Apparently a nanny just wouldn’t do.

She died on the third anniversary of his father’s death. Even in death they were still connected. He knew it was coming. Every day after school, he would take the bus to the hospital and by then the hospital staff knew him so well that they’d ask him about his day at school or how well he did on the test he had been studying for yesterday. For hours, he’d sit by his mother’s bedside, holding her hand. Most of the time she was asleep, the medication she was on keeping her in a drowsy, dream-like state. So he’d talk and hope she heard him.

He talked about everything, from his test score to how Henry Thompson pushed Lauren Taylor so he hit Henry and how his teacher didn’t call his family but he had to sit in the classroom for lunch and recess. He didn’t really mind though because all of his classmates are dumb. Except Lauren Taylor, she wasn’t dumb. She was nice. He didn’t like like her or anything but she didn’t make fun of him for his mom being sick.

Looking back, Keith probably thought he wasted all of his words during those afternoons. Nowadays, Keith hardly spoke. He wasn’t mute, he just didn’t see the point. The people he lived with didn’t give a shit what he thought, and most of the people he came across at work were satisfied with a simple point to where the guitar strings were or to Shiro when they asked about trying out an instrument.

Now, Keith saved his words for when he was finally alone in the house and could pull out a guitar and a notebook and write songs and just mess around. He could see it now, resting against the wall by his closet. The beat up cherry red six-string had been a 14th birthday present from Shiro. Shiro had been the one to get him into music.

After his mom died, he was angry. Angry at her leaving him. Angry at himself for being mad at his mom. Angry at his shitty step-father for the fake tears he cried at her funeral. Angry at himself for being angry at her funeral instead of crying, tears real or not. He took his anger out on the bullies at his school. The ones that made fun of Steven Cox for his braces and Jasmine Turner’s natural hair.

He was in in-school-suspension more than he was in class. He was in detention after school more than he was at home (not that he minded). All of his teachers and peers thought that he was going to end up in prison before he graduated. Then one day when he was 12, he had Jason Herndon pinned up against the brick wall of the back of the school with a hand fisted in his dumb, flannel shirt. One hand was reared back, ready to strike when someone else’s hand closed over his own.

With a red hot look, he glanced over his shoulder and instantly cooled down. Standing behind him was a very tired, very annoyed looking Takashi Shirogane. Shiro’s father had worked with his own at the auto shop and Keith had grown up admiring Shiro from afar. He was everything Keith wanted to be- kind and tough, welcoming and accepting, a leader. Shiro seemed to have everything in his life figured out while Keith had no idea what he was doing.

“Keith,” Shiro sighed, “what are you doing?” He looked at Keith without the pity everyone else seemed to look at him with. He just looked really tired. He was tired and so was Keith.

For 7 years, Keith hadn’t cried about anything. About his father’s death, about his mother, about his shitty home life. But right then, looking at Shiro and his tired face, Keith wanted nothing more than to cry.

So he did. Jason fell on the floor as Keith buried his head in Shiro’s shoulder and wrapped his arms tight around him. Yea, it wasn’t one of his shining moments.

From then on, Shiro was the big brother Keith had always wanted. He taught him how to punch properly. “Keep your wrists straight. Plant your feet,” Shiro had instructed. “If you insist on fighting, at least do it right. I’m surprised you haven’t jammed your wrist or broken your thumb yet.”

It was Shiro who got Keith into martial arts. He was bad at first, not really interested in the whole ‘follow instructions’ thing. But eventually, after getting his ass handed to him more times then he cared to admit, he got used to it. He learned how to channel all that anger into power, into strength.

By the time he was 14, he wasn’t getting into nearly as many fights. While that familiar feeling of rage burned inside him constantly, it was dimmer and less likely to burn anyone. On that birthday, Shiro bought him that guitar and taught him how to play. So as he grew up, he fell out of martial arts and fell hard for music.

An alarm blared from Keith’s phone. 7:00. “Shit,” he whispered. Keith flew off the bed, tugging on a pair of jeans that had seen better days and a trademark black v-neck. He slung the guitar over his back, the weight comfortable and familiar between his shoulder blades. Steeling himself, he pushed out of the tiny attic he was designated.

Every day, he questioned why he stayed in this house. Why was he here? Why didn’t he just pack up his bags and find a crappy little apartment to live in? Well, the answer is simple. Money.

Zarkon seemed to think that Keith owed him for all the money he spent on his mother’s hospital bills. So all the money Keith made from working at Shiro’s store went straight into a separate bank account that Zarkon controlled. Whatever money Keith had of his own came from the money he made playing on the street.
He pounded down the stairs, pulling on his riding gloves. If he planned this carefully, he could sneak out of the house without having to interact with any of his horrendous family.

“Keith!” Fuck. Leaning against the wall at the bottom of the staircase was Lotor, a smug grin on his face.

“What do you want?” He was really not in the mood for this. He was never in the mood for his step-brother.

Lotor clucked his tongue, pushing away from the wall. “Oh so touchy. Look I need you to do something for me.” Keith continued down the stairs, pushing past Lotor. There was only one thing he wanted to do right now and it was leave this god forsaken house.

“I’m late for work. Get Rolo or something to do it for you,” Keith muttered, walking to the kitchen with Lotor hot on his heels. Lotor cut Keith off in the doorway of the kitchen, his tall and lanky frame filling the space. Keith tried to duck under his brother’s arm but Lotor moved his arm quickly, smacking Keith in the chest.

“You seem to think that was a request. No, I need you to get something for me. I need one of those guitars from that place you work at.” Keith went wide eyed and snorted. With a well place shoved, Lotor fell out of the doorway and Keith slipped in. Mary, the family chef, was busy in front of the stove, a crinkle in her brow from concentration. Keith rested a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, smiled, and the crinkle disappeared.

“Why the hell do you need a guitar?” Keith asked, pulling an apple from the bowl in the center of the island.

“Language,” Mary warned, never looking up from her pan.

“Sorry Mary. But seriously, why? Last time I checked, you had no musical talent whatsoever.” It was true. When they were 15, Keith had woken up one morning to find his guitar missing. He tore through the house like a crazy person trying to find it. He found it by following the sound of a dying cat attempting to sing and severely out of tune guitar strings right to Lotor’s door.

Lotor knew exactly what Keith was talking about. When Keith slammed the door open, Lotor’s face turned bright red and he felt such a rush of satisfaction. Of course, the teenager went crying to his father and Keith went without dinner that night. But the look on Lotor’s face was so worth it. “That was years ago. I’ve been taking lessons,” Lotor huffed, crossing his arms and Keith had to resist the urge to laugh.

“Uh huh. Sure you have.” Keith made his way back to the door in an attempt to escape but Lotor shoved him against the island, the sharp marble digging into the small of his back. Keith hissed and he could hear Mary’s low gasp behind him.
“Listen. All I need is a guitar. Can you do that or are you too stupid?” Lotor hissed in his ear, hand balled in Keith’s shirt. He felt his own hand curl into a fist, but before he did anything he would regret later Shiro’s voice whispered into his mind. Patience yields focus. The hand by his side loosened and he nodded stiffly.

Lotor leaned away from him, a smug grin plastered on his face. Keith shoved away from Lotor, fingers still wrapped tight around his apple. “I’ll get you your damn guitar, but if you break it, you buy it.” Keith muttered, stalking towards the door. He kept his eyes forward, not daring to look back because he knew Lotor was leaning against the island with a self-satisfied grin on his face and seeing that look might take away any self control Keith’s gained throughout the years.

As he left the house, thankfully avoiding the other two members of the family, he realized he had no idea why Lotor wanted the guitar. Maybe he was actually trying to have a talent and instead of buying his own with daddy’s credit card wanted to make Keith go out of his way? Honestly, who knows. He tried his best to stay out of his brother’s business as much as possible. The entire Galra family could have been aliens from outer space and he wouldn’t know it.

Behind the house, he climbed aboard his bike, a low to the ground, gritty thing. It was his mother’s and all he had left of her. ‘Red’ as Keith had named the bike when he was six, was his most prized possession.The engine was exposed and banged up with barely there scratches, but he kept it in as good of a condition as he could with the help of his father’s friends at the shop. Although Keith always insisted on paying, in homage to his dad they fixed up all of the bike’s problems for free.

When he was on the bike, he felt his mom’s presence all around him. On that bike, he felt as at home as ever could without her.

The trip to work was familiar and fast. People tended to get out of the way of a loud, speeding motorcycle. On the way he noticed a giant clump of people gathered on the corner of Morton and Graham in front of Visual Aid. He had no idea what was happening, but he could see the occasional pop of a camera flash as he idled at the light. Maybe someone robbed the glasses repair store?

Keith parked the bike behind Voltron- the music supply store named after some inside joke Shiro had with his old college buddy Matt. Matt’s younger sister Pidge worked at the store after her college classes. The girl was a certified genius and it was an insanely high IQ and an unstoppable determination had the sixteen year old girl in junior level classes at the Garrison.

Keith pushed through the back entrance into the stockroom where boxes of guitar strings, picks, reeds, and valve oil were stacked precariously high. Nothing was in a specific order and the inventory Matt had meticulously put together a few months ago was all but dust in the wind. He pushed through the cases of woodwinds and brass instruments, almost tripping over a trombone. Shiro didn’t suck at many things but organizing was one of them. Matt was going to throw a fit when he saw the state of this room.

When he walked into the main room of the store, he instantly had to duck. “What the fuck Shiro?!” Keith glanced up from his crouched position, hands covering his head. In the distance, he saw a taller Pidge- Matt, he realized after a moment- gesturing angrily to Shiro. Shiro was leaning against the glass case containing the more expensive pieces they sold in the store. Along with selling actual musical instrument accessories, they sold musical instrument shaped accessories. Shiro liked to promote local artists by showcasing their work in the store.

“I give you a perfectly functional, perfectly organized inventory list and you mean to tell me you haven’t been using it?!” Looks like Matt saw the workroom already. “What the actual fuck? How are you keeping track of your stock?”

Keith saw Shiro shrug helplessly and he knew it was time to step in. “We tend to keep track of it based on sales. Pidge set up an alert to come up on the computer every time we hit a certain amount of something,” he called out. Matt snapped his head to Keith and Shiro’s face was pure relief. At first glance, Matt appeared to be nothing more than the goofy, happy, nerd he was but when Matt got angry about something he changed into something scary.

Keith walked over to Matt and rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He could feel the tension underneath his hand. “Take a deep breath, it’s going to be fine.” Matt inhaled, exhaled, and the knot in Matt’s shoulder disappeared.

“My damn sister. She’s always trying to my life more difficult.”

“You bet your ass I am,” Keith glanced over to see Pidge walking in through the front door. She wiped some sweat from her brow before kicking the door shut behind her. Pidge bussed here from the school as she didn’t have her license yet. Matt crossed his arms and gave her an unamused look. She winked at him, dropping her bag behind the counter.

“Hey Pidge. You’re later than normal. Was the bus late?” Shiro asked. Pidge hopped onto the counter and swung her feet over the edge, scooting out of the way of Shiro’s swatting hand. He hated it when she sat on the counter, something about it being ‘unprofessional’.

“Yea there was some big group of screaming, hormonal teenagers on the corner of the street. It was right where my bus stop is so I got caught up in it but I have no idea why it’s there,” Pidge explained, pulling out her phone. She fiddled with it, probably hacking into the Amazon servers, trying to order some new computer parts for me. She was a broke college student with a gift for technological breaking and entering so she used her talents whenever possible and whenever needed.

“Keith, you get to work that way. Do you know what’s happening?” Keith shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I mean I saw a big crowd right in front of the glasses store. Some cameras were there, but that’s all I know.” He really didn’t understand what could be all the fuss about a glasses repair store.

“Maybe there’s some Buzzfeed article being written? I mean the name’s pretty clever and they’ve written about stupider things,” Matt offered. Keith shrugged, the idea seeming plausible. He remembered seeing an article entirely about celebrities that looked nothing alike. Literally, they put two pictures of Oprah and Channing Tatum side by side and called it journalism.

Outside, there was a large scream. Shiro’s eyes widened and he flew to the door, yanking it open. He immediately got out of the way as a figure tumbled into the store. “Close the door! Close the door!” The figure yelled and Shiro slammed the door shut. The lock resounded in the sudden silence of the store. The figure was hunched over, hands on his knees.

“Hey man, are you okay?” Matt walked over, crouching down to his level. The figure nodded.

“Yea, i’m sorry. Normally I can handle the crowds but these small town folks are crazy. I should have expected that considering I am from a small town, but boy it’s been a while,” the figure babbled as he straightened up. As he fixed his hair, Keith’s brain short circuited. Pidge shot him a devilish smirk which didn’t help anything. “Sorry about the whole barging in here thing. Do you guys mind if I wait out the frenzy in here?” Lance McClain chuckled, rubbing a hand behind his neck.

Lance McClain- pop icon, love of Keith’s life for the past four years. It was an embarrassing crush, one he knew would never come to anything so he had been content to just suffer in silence, singing covers of his songs on street corners and stalking him on social media. Except, here he is. Right in front of Keith and he had no idea what to do except stand there gaping like an idiot.

Everyone that worked at Voltron knew about Keith’s massive crush after he made Pidge mad and she retaliated. So when Shiro opened his mouth it was with a smirk that matched Pidge’s and chilled Keith to the bone. “No, not at all. Stay as long as you need.”

Chapter Text

It was about four years ago when Keith first tried singing.

He had had his guitar for about two years now and was content with simply plucking out melodies and searching up free sheet music online. Singing hadn’t even really occurred to him as an option. Singing was something rock stars and pop stars did, not sad orphans in their bedrooms.

It wasn’t until he was fooling around online and stumbled across a video that the idea got planted in his mind. He was looking up a tutorial for his mother’s favorite song: “Your Song” by Elton John. Both of his parents had been into music from the 70s and 80s. It was the music Keith had grown up on. One of the few memories he still had of his father was the pair of them dancing in their tiny kitchen, “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire playing in the background. He wasn’t sure why the song hadn’t faded from the memory after all this time, but he wasn’t complaining. To this day, whenever the song came up on Spotify he had to stifle the sad smile that grew on his face.

That fateful day he had been scrolling when he accidentally clicked on a cover of the song. Cursing, Keith had been prepared to immediately hit the back button, then the guy’s face loaded on the screen. Truthfully, the only reason Keith didn’t click away from the video was because of how cute the guy was.

Keith had come to terms with his sexuality a long time ago. It wasn’t like he had had to worry about anyone’s opinion, as he had no one to come out to and frankly, he couldn’t care less what someone else thought of him. So yes, when he saw this guy’s face appear on the screen of his laptop, he was thinking some gay thoughts.

Intrigued, he let the video keep on playing. When the guy started to sing, those gay thoughts became gay feelings because goddamn this guy can sing.

This guy, Lance McClain as his username said, was a nobody; just some kid that wanted to put a video on the internet to become famous. But damn did he sing like he was famous. He had one of the best voices that Keith had ever heard. It was a voice that sent chills up and down his spine and caused goosebumps to raise up on his thighs. This voice carried to the heavens with angelic high notes.

Keith was mesmerized for the entire 3 minutes and 37 seconds of the video. He was holding his breath and when Lance had stopped singing, Keith had to reach up and brush away a tear. Now Lance’s singing hadn’t been perfect and wasn’t nearly good enough to make someone, let alone Keith cry, but there had been so much pure emotion in the guy’s voice, that it had caused feelings to stir up inside of him. Feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time. Feelings he had never physically expressed.

The night his mom died, Keith had been there. He was always there. By this point, the doctors knew not to try and take Keith out of the room, as he’d always kick and scream until they let him back in. So he was sitting by her bedside that night, clutching his mother’s clammy, weak hand, while a doctor in a white coat and a nurse in light blue scrubs scuttled around the little family like ants.

Keith, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, knew his mother was going to die. It was a gut feeling. It was a feeling that resonated from deep within him. So, he sat there in that uncomfortable plastic chair that had probably molded to the shape of his ass by this point with the knowledge that this was the last time he was going to see his mother. He watched her sleep, part of this burden he carried lifted by the fact that she was asleep and would go out peacefully.

He closed his eyes, pressed their joined hands to his forehead and waited for the inevitable.

Then he heard a soft, “Hey.” and he glanced up. Talia Kogane was smiling at her son, her cheeks sunk in and her eyelids fluttering but most definitely alive. It broke Keith’s, heart.

“Mom,” he whispered as if he was afraid that if he said it any louder, she would just disappear. Part of him thought he was dreaming, that he had fallen asleep against the cold metal of the hospital bed and was only imagining that his mother was alive and smiling down at him like he was the best thing she had ever seen. Then he felt a light squeeze, barely stronger than a child’s grip, and he knew that this was real. “Mom.”

“Oh my beautiful boy,” she whispered, voice weak. She let go of his hand and Keith’s heart stuttered at the loss of contact. She was gone, she was gone, she was- fingertips stroked lightly at his cheek. He leaned into the touch, his heart breaking and mending in the same instant. “I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t be sorry! Why are you sorry? You haven’t done anything wrong,” Keith protested with wide eyes. He searched his mother’s face for an answer, for an explanation as to why she thought she had to be sorry for anything. For the eight years, he had been alive, the best thing to have ever happened to him was to have her as a mother. There was nothing for her to be sorry about.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this. Not so tough am I?” His mother chuckled but Keith just felt sad. He had often referred to his mother as Wonder Woman- a tough, unstoppable, impenetrable force that nothing could hurt. She was strong and brave and a hero. His hero.

“No, you’re so tough, mama. The toughest,” he assured her, his little hand gripping hers. Keith could remember feeling the bones in her hands so clearly and being so afraid to squeeze her hand too hard, afraid he was going to break her hand. Talia laughed and it sounded better than any instrument; it was like a hundred tinkling bells.

“Oh thank you, baby. If you think I’m tough that’s all that matters isn’t it?” Her smiling face subtly contorted to something sadder, something bittersweet. It looked like a smile, but something about it was off. Maybe it was the way the corners of her mouth barely rose or the pure, gut-wrenching sadness in her eyes. Looking at that face hurt as much as Keith thought getting punched in the stomach would. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you. Baby, I don’t want to leave you with that man, but I don’t have much of a choice.” Her voice cracked, tears shining in her deep, violet eyes. Each word was a struggle. It was clear from her light gasps and the long pauses between every word.

“I love you, Keith. I love you so much and don’t you ever forget it okay? You’re my beautiful boy, my baby. So no matter what happens, don’t forget it okay? One day you’ll know just how much I love you okay?” Her words were rushed and anxious. Her eyes refused to stay in one spot, constantly flickering over her son’s face as if she was searching for something. What she was looking for, Keith would never know.

“What are you talking about mama? I know you love me and I love you too. Together forever. That’s what we promised each other. Together forever,” Keith said as he grabbed his mother’s hand. Looking at her face, he could tell that the end was near. Shallow breathing, pale skin, thin and veiny eyelids. When had she begun to look so sick? “Together forever,” he whispered against their clasped hands.

“Together forever, my son.”

The silence stretched between them and the only reassurance that she was still in the world was the feather-light grip on his hand.

“My son, will you sing with me?” When he met his mother’s eyes there was no need to ask what song she wanted to sing. Keith nodded, throat tight with tears that refused to fall. The one man that had been as constant in his mother’s battle with her illness besides Keith was Elton John. Talia often asked her son to play his songs for her when he would visit, everything from “Crocodile Rock” to “Tiny Dancer.” But if one of them was having a particularly bad day- Keith failed a test, or the newest experimental cure hadn’t worked as they’d hoped- his mother would just give him a look and he’d play “Your Song.”

So amidst the chatter of doctors in lab coats and beeping heart rate monitors and with the smell of disinfectant strong in his nose, Keith opened his mouth and began to sing. Talia joined in a moment later, drowning out the distant sounds of sobbing that were coming from the waiting room. For this moment in time, staring into his mother’s eyes and singing their song, Keith’s mom wasn’t sick. This sterile and shockingly white room could easily have been the light blue room his parents slept in, and the scratchy blanket under his elbow could have been the handmade quilt Keith’s grandmother had made his parents as a wedding gift.

Somewhere during the first verse, Keith felt tears well up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He didn’t want his mother’s last image of him to be him as a sad, crying, and pathetic mess. Her other hand, the one with the clear tube of an IV in it, stroked his cheek lightly.

“I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I wrote down in words how wonderful life is that you’re in the world,” his mother sighed. They had only managed to sing the first chorus. As her breath left her body, Talia Kogane smiled at her son for the last time.

That final look his mother gave him was forever etched in his brain. A look of love so pure and so raw that it was almost too much for Keith to take in. In that moment, he couldn’t see the sallow, thin, birdlike woman lying in a hospital bed; he saw the glowing, laughing, living woman he knew to be his mother.

And as that look faded, so did everything else. Silence overcame him and he just felt numb.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

He was so confused. Why were the doctors and nurses yelling? His mother was fine. She was still here. None of this was real so why were they acting like it was? Why was the heart rate monitor flat lining? It must be broken.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

His mother’s hand fell from his grasp.

This is real.

So when Keith heard Lance singing that song, it brought him back. It brought him back to the moment his life stopped.

And God, Keith wanted that power. Keith wanted to be able to make tears fall from those that listened to him. He wanted to transport people back in time. Maybe not to one of the most traumatic moments of their life, but to a time where they felt something real and raw and pure.

So it was Lance McClain that inspired Keith to start singing. He started off simple and easy- classic rock songs that he didn’t have to look up the lyrics and melodies too. He sang in the mornings before school when the other three members of his family had left. Lotor and Sendak went to a fancy private school about 45 minutes from their house. “Only the best education for my boys,” Keith had overheard Zarkon say to one of his fellow CEO.

Keith, of course, was not one of his boys.

After his mother died, the only times Keith really felt things were when he sang. Sure he got happy, sad, and annoyed but the only pure emotion he felt was anger. Then he found songs and lyrics and found that he could relate to the meanings and the emotions behind them.

So he started with easy emotions like happiness and nostalgia through AC/DC and Hearts. The memories of a happier time and a healthy family flooded through him and kept him strong. Singing made him feel vulnerable and exposed, but those memories kept him going and made him feel confident and secure.

It took him about a year to muster up the courage to sing about other feelings like sadness and suffering and all the losses he had felt. That year Keith found a way to talk about his anger instead of channeling it through his fists or guitar strings.

He sang everything from Lily Allen to Blackstreet to Fall Out Boy. 9 years after his mother died and Keith had finally found his voice.

Now here was Lance McClain, the one that helped Keith find his voice, in the flesh. And Keith had no idea what to do. He stood there, probably gaping like an idiot, searching for something to say or do. Anything to make him look like an intelligent human being.

“Thanks so much for letting me hide out here. I really hope I’m not causing you guys any trouble,” Lance said, hands in his pockets as he gazed around the store. He walked over to one of the shelves in the middle of the floor, examining the varying sizes of guitar strings. Keith sent a desperate look to Shiro who only shrugged unhelpfully.

Thankfully, Keith noticed a smudge on the glass case. He grabbed a rag and some spray and went to work on it. While he was at it, why not clean the entire case? It could probably do with a cleaning after all the times Pidge sat on it throughout the day.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. It’s not like a music store gets many visitors in a town this small,” Shiro said and smiled at Lance. Keith knew that smile. It was the one he used when he wanted to appear particularly charming. That smile came out around particularly difficult customers or when he was trying to barter with a seller over the price of his order. Shiro was really trying to get on Lance’s good side huh?

Lance put the box of strings he had been holding and turned his attention to the staff of Voltron. Lance gave a dazzling smile, one Keith had seen hundreds of times in pictures and videos. “I appreciate it. I’m Lance by the way,” He said, extending a hand to Shiro.

Shiro accepted it and Keith chuckled to himself at the flashing look of pain on Lance’s face. Shiro had a strong grip and no matter how many times Keith and tried to get him to loosen up, he never had. It was Shiro’s very own trademark. “I’m Shiro and trust me. We all know who you are,” he said, sending a look Keith’s way.

Sometimes, he really hated Shiro.

Thankfully Lance didn’t seem to notice. He was already moving on to Matt, who visibly looked like he was going to implode. At least Keith could internalize his gay thoughts. Matt, on the other hand, had no sort of poker face whatsoever. “Um, I’m Matt. Matt Holt,” he said with a bright blush on his cheeks. Lance didn’t even seem fazed by it though. He probably had blushing, stuttering, screaming fans throwing himself at his feet 24/7.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lance said, the epitome of polite. It was a practiced response though, that was easy enough to tell.

Lance walked over to Pidge and reached out a hand. At first, Keith thought she would just raise an eyebrow and laugh at the offer, but to his surprise, she accepted it and shook his hand forcefully. “I’m Pidge Holt, that messes sister,” she said, gesturing with a nod of her head to Matt. Matt flipped her off and Pidge smiled sweetly in return. Lance laughed and nodded.

“Noted.” Keith did some mental math. Everybody else had already shaken his hand. That meant… Oh shit. He was not ready for this. Physical contact with Lance McClain? Someone, please shoot him.

Lance slid along the counter to where Keith furiously cleaned the same spot on the counter over and over again. Be cool Kogane. Out of his peripherals, he saw the hand. He looked up from the spot and stared at the hand, unable to do anything. God, why was he such a mess? A couple of awkward seconds passed, but the hand didn’t disappear.

Someone clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s just a handshake, Keith. It won’t bite,” Shiro said with an innocent smile, as he walked past with a box balanced against his hip. Keith glared at him, but Shiro didn’t look back as he disappeared into the back room.

“And who are you?” Lance asked, the hand once extended to Keith coming to rest under his chin. There was a glimmer in Lance’s eye, one that hadn’t been there with anyone else. Was Lance alright? Did something get in his eye? Did he need contact solution?

“Keith,” he said and after a moment added. “Kogane. Keith Kogane.” He hadn’t realized just how pretty Lance’s eyes were. Well, he had never had a reason to realize but man, he was glad he was this close to actually see what they looked like. They were a deep blue, almost like the ocean. The more he looked at them, the more they seemed to change. Sometimes they were a lighter blue, like the sea on a calm day, but in the next moment, they could be like the ocean in the middle of a hurricane, dark and stormy.

And oh boy, Keith was very close to Lance McClain. How had he not realize how close he was? Keith abandoned the rag on the counter, favoring leaning against the back wall instead. The arms crossed over his chest were suddenly much more interesting than the pop star in front of him.

“Well Keith Kogane, you may have just made this trip much more interesting,” Lance grinned and then, much to Keith’s dismay, Lance fucking winked. This asshat had the audacity to wink at him. Who did he think he was? Keith smiled, hoping to seem polite and not too gay. Keith glanced away, making eye contact with Shiro.

Shiro looked at him as if he knew something he didn’t. Keith spread his hands like What? Shiro just shook his head, a little smile on his face. Keith pouted, hating the feeling of not knowing something. But Shiro was clearly not going to let him in on whatever secret he was keeping.

“Yeah about that. Why is someone like you in a town like this?” Pidge asked bluntly, never looking up from her phone. Keith shot her look, trying to tell her to not be so rude. Pidge glanced up briefly from the screen, raising an eyebrow. “What? I’m curious.”

Lance chuckled lightly and Keith might have died a little bit. Of course, Lance had a beautiful laugh. Everything about him was beautiful.

“No, it’s a valid question. It’s kind of a long story, but the short answer is that my manager thought it would be a good idea for me to get out of Altea for a little bit,” Lance explained.

“Well, that wasn’t vague at all. Give us the long version. We’ve got nothing but time,” Pidge prompted. Keith was surprised to see her put down her phone and look actually invested in a story. For a second, Keith was confused because it wasn’t a look that was normally on Pidge’s face. Unless of course, she was looking at a piece of tech, or she was the one telling the story. But then it dawned on him. It was easy to forget that Pidge was sixteen, but she was. It was totally normal for a teenage girl to be starstruck, even someone as cynical as Pidge. It was a new, kind of weird, look for her.

“Alright so, I don’t know if you know this, but this morning my record label announced a country-wide talent search,” Keith couldn’t help but perk up and the glances his friends sent his way weren’t lost on him either, “and to avoid any sort of mob scene on the street my manager, Allura, thought it would be best if I got out of the city.”

Pidge looked disappointed. “That wasn’t a long story at all. I was expecting something a little bit more, I don’t know-”

“Riveting?” Matt finished and Pidge snapped her fingers.

“Riveting! Exactly!” Pidge nodded, looking more satisfied. Lance just looked freaked out.

“Did they-”

“Just finish each other’s sentences?” Shiro offered, magically reappearing from the storage room and Lance nodded. “Yes. Yes, they did.”

“Don’t worry, you get used to it,” Keith said, sighing. Shiro walked out onto the floor, guitar in hand. Keith gasped a little bit, in awe of the beautiful instrument. It had a shockingly blue body with lighter highlights throughout it. Silver accents glistened in the harsh lighting of the store and Keith had never seen anything like it.

“Holy shit. Shiro, where did you get it?” Keith whispered, walking over to take the instrument in his hands. He felt someone slide up next to me and he didn’t even have to look to see who it was. Another set of hands reached out to gently touch the guitar, fingertips barely resting on it.

“God damn. She’s so beautiful. Yea, where did you get her?” Keith rolled his eyes. Of course, Lance was the kind of guy to refer to an instrument as a woman. A lady’s man to woman and guitars.

Shiro smiled, gazing at the guitar. “An old buddy of mine knows that I run this place and called me up yesterday and told me he had this thing lying around. So he came by and dropped it off this morning. I totally forgot about it until just now. I wanted to get it on the floor as soon as possible.”

“Does your old buddy have any more of these laying around? Because if he does, he and I need to have a conversation,” Lance sighed and Keith could practically see the cartoon hearts in his eyes.

Shiro laughed, “Trust me if he had any more, they would be hanging up around this store.”

“Hey I know you don’t owe me any favors or anything, but do you think I could play her?” Keith felt his heart skip a beat and glanced quickly up at Shiro. Shiro was already looking up at him, a wrinkle in his brow. A wrinkle in his brow that said he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Well here’s the thing Lance. Our boy Keith here is the one that tends to test out all our new merch-”

“Well, the stuff he can play at least,” Matt said, typing away on the keyboard of the ancient computer Shiro insisted on using. Pidge has tried to sneak in a newer system at least seven times.

“-yes right, the stuff he can play, and I just don’t think we can break those traditions even for a big star,” Pidge finished. She was leaning back on her hands, a challenge in her eye. Lance stared back, an eyebrow raised and Keith kept glancing back and forth like this was the most intense game of tennis he’d ever seen. He kept waiting for one of them to break, but none of them seemed like they were going to.

Shiro, and Matt, and he all exchanged looks. For once, Pidge may have met her match. While Pidge seemed to be fueled by a scary level of ‘Don’t fuck with me,’ while Lance had a different, but almost equally as powerful, ‘I don’t care what you think because I know I’m hot as fuck.’ It was truly a match for the ages.

To no one’s surprise, Lance looked away first. And that was to look straight at Keith. “You play?” Lance seemed doubtful, with that eyebrow still raised infuriatingly high in the air, and arms crossed over his chest. Any embarrassment he may be felt at the attention was quickly squelched by just a pure desire to wipe that look off his face.

“Yes, I do play,” Keith muttered, taking the guitar from Shiro. He slung the neck strap over his head and adjusted the length. Shiro grabbed a stool and placed it next to Keith. As he sat, he asked “Any requests?”

“Stressed out!” Keith rolled his eyes, Shiro chuckled, and Matt looked ashamed to call Pidge his sister. “Ok listen here you Taylor Swift loving homosexual, it’s not my fault that you have horrible taste music and can’t appreciate talent when you hear it.” Keith chuckled, as she sounded just like Keith when he was in middle school.

“Okay whatever you edgy emo teen,” Keith said as he tuned the strings. This old buddy of Shiro’s was really good at keeping guitars in pristine condition but not in tune.

“Keith, you really can’t talk. Do you want me to bring up 8th grade Keith?” Keith looked up in horror as Lance let out a loud gasp.

“Oh please bring up 8th grade Keith! You were a punk kid, weren’t you? Oh, my God, I can totally see you being a punk kid with your mullet and poor, pale skin that could desperately use a moisturizer. You had those rubber bracelets didn’t you?” Lance was cackling, hand clutched over his stomach. A hand was wiping literal tears from his eyes and oh god Keith wanted to punch him. Or kiss him. Either one would work.

“Oh my God. Please stop. Shiro, why do you insist on torturing me?”

“You just… make it really really easy,” Shiro sighed. Keith kicked out with his foot and Shiro danced away. Damn him and his ability.

“Do you want me to play or not? It won’t affect me in the least, this is just your product on the line.” Keith began to pull the strap over his head, but Shiro pushed his arm down.

“Oh just shut up and play.” Keith shook his head and accepted the guitar pick Pidge handed him.

"OK, but please show me those pictures later. They would make my day," Lance told Shiro and to his horror, Shiro nodded.

Keith groaned and ran through the notes in his head. Despite all the shit he gave Pidge about being a Twenty One Pilots fan, he knew the song by heart. He put pick to strings and started strumming.

Getting lost in a song was a familiar feeling. The music drowned out everything else: Pidge’s humming, Matt mouthing the words, and Shiro drumming his fingers against a music stand.

But what it didn’t drown out was Lance’s singing. When he heard the first word of the song, Keith’s head snapped up. It seemed almost like an involuntary thing; his hands were shoved in his pockets and his eyes were closed. His voice was just loud enough to be heard over all the background noise in the store and Keith’s strumming.

Listening to Lance sing in person was so much better than he could have ever imagined. Familiar chills ran up and down his spine at the voice, but he forced himself to keep his hands steady. The idea of messing up in front of Lance made Keith’s blood boil. Maybe it was because he was an idol of Keith’s but it felt like more than that. Just some need to show Lance that he was good at something and that he couldn’t mess up.

Lance finally opened his eyes, right on Keith staring at him. Lance smiled at him and Keith could only roll his eyes. Though he did feel a small little smile grow on his face. But they kept singing, and unknown to them, the three other members of Voltron were all glancing at each other, because they saw something those two obviously couldn’t see. One day they’d get it. Well, they hoped at least, because they knew Keith and Keith Kogane was one of the most oblivious people on the planet. They could only hope that Lance wasn’t the same.

So far, it wasn’t looking so good.

They’d all known each for what? Thirty minutes? But already they were smiling at each other like they’d known each other for years. For once, Keith wasn’t being a bumbling idiot around some guy he had a crush on. Sure, they could all tell he was internalizing it from the constant blush and refusal to make eye contact, but he wasn’t stuttering or making a complete fool of himself.

And damn did they sound good together. Lance picked up on Keith’s playing almost immediately and fell into the groove of his music. Shiro knew more than anyone that Keith was a complicated player. He liked to add little hiccups and tempo changes randomly throughout it, and he certainly wasn’t holding back now. All throughout the song, Matt, Shiro, and Pidge listened to Lance keep up with Keith’s wild playing like well… a pro.

Maybe it was because Lance was a professional singer. Maybe he just had the experience to keep up with him, but something was different. It was like Lance was challenging Keith. With each little trick, Lance would waggle an eyebrow or wink and Keith would retaliate. It was a dance and they kept trading off who was leading.

Keith had never played so well and Lance had never sung so well and Keith had forced them all to watch so many videos of Lance singing that they considered themselves experts on Lance’s singing ability. God help these two hopeless idiots.
Lance sang that last note, Keith strummed that last note, and they sat for a moment just smiling.

Keith couldn’t remember the last time playing had felt so natural. Maybe it was the first time he ever actually played. Something about the way they had found their pocket right away and didn’t have to struggle to find their rhythm. It was truly an experience.

Lance grinned a grin that deserved one of those cartoon flashes of light bouncing off his teeth. Keith could even hear the sound effect that went with it. Keith rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“You know what we are now right?” Keith’s brow furrowed. What was Lance talking about?

“No?”

“Keith Kogane,” Lance said, getting close to Keith’s face, “you and I are rivals now.”

Keith’s heart had never beaten so fast.

Chapter Text

Keith had always wondered what people thought when they entered Voltron.

As hard as Matt tried, it wasn’t the most well-kept shop. All of their merchandise was in mint condition of course, but dust bunnies sometimes collected in the corners and fingerprint smudges on the glass counter were a must. Sometimes the metronomes ended up amongst some novelty pens or a stack of magnets was hidden behind a few containers of guitar picks but somehow Matt still knew where everything was. It was like a superpower- being able to find any misplaced item.

What did these random strangers assume when they waltzed on into Shiro’s shop for a repair or a rental? Did they think that this was just some little, family run shop shoved in between bigger chains? If they assumed that, then they would definitely be correct because that’s what Voltron was: a store run by a hodgepodge, mismatched family.

What did they think of the people there? Keith knew where everyone stood in the food chain and who they were as people but did Keith’s own image of his friends- his family- match up with their views?

Did they see Shiro as someone who was obviously in charge? Because he totally was. Everyone looked to him for answers, whether it was what to do when a pop star stumbled into your place of work or how to properly display a box of reeds. Shiro was the steady, reassuring force in the store. It was clear that without Shiro, Voltron would go to hell. Shiro also had that “leader” look about him, with his broad shoulders and commanding gaze. He radiated ‘man-in-charge’ and seemed equal parts comforting and stern; like one moment he could be giving you a giant bear hug and the next he could be ordering you to drop and give him twenty.

Or did they seem him as Keith really knew him? A giant dork that loved Star Trek movies and had passionate thoughts on why it was ten times better than Star Wars. The guy that saved Keith from the mess that is himself and pulled him from the wreckage of his life. A really gay nerd that would never be able to tell his best friend how he felt.

Then there was the best friend himself: Matt. Did these strangers see Matt as the control freak that controlled the floor of the store? It was, after all, his personal mission that every bottle of valve oil was in line with one another and the clipboard that contained all of his many to-do lists that he carried around seemed to be permanently attached to his hand. Matt often reorganized the recorders three different times a day. First, they would be organized smallest to largest, then by color family, and then by opacity. There always seemed to be something to fix. He was the type of guy that didn’t like it when his peas touched his mashed potatoes.

But they probably didn’t realize that Matt was one of the best listeners Keith had ever met. Matt had always been a shoulder to lean on, a supportive friend in a way Shiro could never be. Shiro always had a piece of advice or some words of wisdom but Matt let Keith just vent and scream and rant and be mad. There were no strings attached with Matt. He was simple, straightforward, and just a genuinely decent person. He was one of those friends that everyone dreamt of having but most of the time never got to have. Keith was one of the lucky ones.

Then there was Pidge. Keith honestly had no idea what people thought of when they first saw Pidge. She truly had a way of making each first impression… unique. She was quick to judge people and her personality depended on what she thought of each person that walked in the door.

Keith wondered what Lance thought of the Voltron staff. He also wondered what the hell he was talking about.

“Rivals?”

“Yeah, rivals! You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck!” Lance smiled at the staff of Voltron, looking as hopeful as someone could be when they’re trying to sell some bullshit.

The Voltron staff shared a look, and Keith was probably the most confused.

“What are you talking about?” Keith asked, his fingers sliding over the guitar strings. His hands were so at home on the instrument, the chords, and notes ringing out from the strings as easy as a breath flying past your lips. It was a second nature to him.

Lance waved his hand around, gesturing to Keith and the guitar as a whole. “It’s this whole thing you’ve got going on! The whole guitar player shtick because damn man, you’re really good. Maybe even better than me. Thus, the whole rivalry thing.”

“Oh alright. Makes sense,” Pidge commented, slipping her phone into her pocket. Matt nodded as if it made complete sense and came to lean next to Pidge. He gestured at something on Pidge’s phone screen. She nodded and tapped out a new line of code or text. Keith wondered what they were working on. It was definitely something intense judging by the looks of concentration on their faces.

“Wait what? That doesn’t make any sense! Shiro?’ Keith turned to the guy for support. After all these years, Keith expected Shiro’s support with almost anything but, he received none because Shiro only shrugged and leaned up against the doorjamb. Keith glared at the guy and then sighed. Traitor.

“Some brother you are,” Keith grumbled, plucking on a few strings.

“You’re brothers?” Lanced asked, gesturing between the two.Oh shit, Lance wasn’t filled in on the crazy that was his life. His eyebrows shot high up on his forehead and he opened his mouth to speak but as usual, Pidge bulldozed right over him. When she had an answer, she was going to get it out as soon as possible.

“Nope. They’re fake brothers,” Pidge said. That was it. Keith made a move to explain again but Lance spoke over him. Completely accidentally of course.

“Fake brothers?”

Matt sighed and Pidge shook her head disappointedly. It was as if Lance should have been aware of the situation immediately. As if walking into Voltron gave everyone instant knowledge of Keith and the life he has unfortunately led so far.

“Keith had a shitty childhood so, Shiro kind of adopted him as his younger brother. Shiro was the big brother Keith never had and Keith was the little brother Shiro never wanted,” Matt explained.

“Thanks for telling my life story for me, dick,” Keith chucked his guitar pick at Matt before flipping him off. Matt ducked behind Pidge to avoid being nailed in the eye. Keith had always had really good aim. “Oh shit, that reminds me. Apparently, Legolas wants to borrow a guitar,” Keith said to Shiro, not even bothering to hide the contempt dripping from his voice.

“What the fuck? Why does Princess Lotion need a guitar?” Pidge asked. She was never one to miss an opportunity to rag on anyone in Keith’s stepfamily. She was never one to miss an opportunity to rag on anybody she hated; she just seemed to particularly enjoy shitting on Lotor, Sendak, and Zarkon.

“Princess Lotion? Legolas?” Lance asked, looking as out of the loop as he probably felt. Keith couldn’t help but feel bad. He knew how hard it was to be in the room with just Matt, Shiro, and Pidge. Those three had been friends long before Keith had shown up and before the four of them had established their own private jokes, he had felt like such an outsider, like he was intruding anytime he hung out with them. It took a long time but eventually, Keith became included in their little family and now, Keith couldn’t imagine his life without these people.

“One of my shitty step-brothers,” Keith said, glancing at Lance. “His actual name is Lotor but it makes him super pissed whenever someone makes fun of it so, we’ve all made it our mission to never use his actual name.” Lance nodded, a small smile on his face.

“It’s our way of making him pay for being such a dick without stooping to his level,” Matt added and the Voltron staff hummed their agreement. While they all wanted to make Lotor’s life a personal hell, they refused to become like him; mean and vindictive. Chaotic good instead of chaotic evil.

“Is he really that bad?” Lance asked, fiddling with a neck strap near his hand. It was bright pink with embroidered flowers all over it. A stereotypical neck strap for a six-year-old girl but, he had seen one or two younger boys fiddle with it when his parents weren’t looking.

Shiro scoffed. “If you call pouring glue and feathering Keith’s motorcycle in the 11th grade, videotaping his reaction, and then spreading it amongst the masses bad then yes.” Keith didn’t miss the burning anger in his voice. Keith didn’t like to see Shiro angry or protective but Keith didn’t really mind having somebody care about him.

“Oh and stealing Keith’s guitar about three days after he got it and trashing it. Cut up the strings, put scratches on the body… It was a mess. Shiro spent a week repairing everything,” Pidge muttered, the content clear in her voice as well.

“What about that time Lotor and Sendak literally stole Keith’s bed on his birthday as a ‘present’?” Matt added, rolling his eyes.

“Thank you all for bringing up my very tragic childhood,” Keith said, glaring at his co workers. Matt raised his hands up in surrender and Pidge shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the sad, almost pitying look in Lance’s eyes. Keith forced himself to push down the annoyance he felt when he saw it. Keith had suffered through pity and fake sympathy for so many years when he was a kid, he didn’t need it now.

It wasn’t like Keith could even be mad at Lance. He would have been mad if Lance hadn’t looked sympathetic because that would mean he wasn’t a decent human being and Keith really couldn’t have dealt with that realization. It’s just hard to not shout “Please stop looking at me like that! I’m fine! I’ve been fine for six years!”

“You’re very welcome,” Shiro grinned, pushing away from the doorjamb. He plucked the guitar out of Keith’s hands. He gasped, making grabby hands for it. He felt like a little kid but, he had gotten used to the weight of it in his lap. The strings allowed him to fidget nervously discreetly and now that it was gone, Keith was probably going to have to sit on his hands. That beautiful, beautiful guitar was a security blanket and Keith felt lost without it.

Lance’s eyes trailed after the guitar, watching Shiro as he walked right by him. Keith couldn’t help the little bit of smugness he felt when Shiro didn’t even offer to let Lance play it. Keith loved the guy but he was probably used to getting everything he wanted. It was too nice to imagine that he was helping knock him off his high horse a little bit.

But then again, Lance didn’t seem to be riding one. From the moment he had entered this store, Lance hadn’t seemed like a celebrity in the typical sense. There had been no tabloid level drama caused by a giant ego. Lance hadn’t been condescending to anybody here and if he had been, Pidge or Keith would have put him in his place. Keith and PIdge’s top pet peeve was when someone was being condescending or patronizing and they wouldn’t stand for it- even if that someone was the love of Keith’s life.

Lance seemed to be just a regular human being and honestly, it was a little nerve-wracking. Because for so long, Lance had just been this unreachable dream. Being loved by Lance was something Keith would have wished for if he had somehow ended up rubbing a genie’s lamp. His other two wishes would have been for Mothman to be real and for hundred more wishes to be used at a later date.

But now, sitting across from him, Keith realized that Lance wasn’t a dream or a figment of his imagination. He was a real person with strengths and weaknesses, with a personality and a history that went beyond what he talked about in interviews. The intangible figure Keith had admired for so long was suddenly very, very tangible and Keith didn’t really know how to handle that.

Now he knew that his genie dream was still just that- a dream. There was no way in hell Lance would dump his girlfriend for someone like him. Who would? Especially when that girlfriend is Russian model Nyma Volkov.

Knowing all about Lance McClain meant knowing all about Nyma. She was a socialite turned model when she modeled some clothes for a friend of her’s fashion line. That one shoot caused all eyes in the modeling world to turn to Nyma and her fame skyrocketed from there. Now it was no surprise to see her cold yet fiery eyes and lifeless but passionate face staring up at you from the cover of a Vogue magazine.

They were the perfect couple and Keith would have to be delusional if he really thought that he ever had a chance in hell with Lance when he was competing with someone like that. But when Lance is sitting across from him, looking completely at ease among his dysfunctional family, it was hard not to let his mind wander to dangerous places.

Places that imagines Lance dropping by Voltron regularly and testing out new material in the corner on a borrowed guitar. Places that imagined Keith picking up Lance on his bike from his apartment before going off on a romantic adventure. Places that imagine Keith and Lance being domestic as fuck.

Like he said, dangerous places.

“So really, why does Lotorboat need a guitar? That guy has no musical talent whatsoever,” Keith snapped his attention to Matt.

Keith sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “I have no idea. Why does Lotor do anything?”

Matt nodded. “He really is one weird dude.” Keith nodded. He couldn’t have put it any better himself.

Suddenly, there was a loud banging sound. Keith jumped, having to catch himself before he fell off the stool he was sitting on. Matt slammed his hands over his ears, and even Shiro whipped around at the back of the store to see what was going on. Lance’s eyes had blown wide with a mix of fear and surprise. Keith followed his line of sight to see Pidge pointing a finger at him accusingly.

“You,” she whispered before hopping off the counter. She stalked over to Lance, staring up at him with a furrowed brow and intense look of thought. Keith stood up from the stool and he noticed Matt push away from the countertop. Pidge was a firecracker, Voltron’s wild card. When she had that look in her eye there was no telling what she would do. She could be about to deck Lance or give him the biggest bear hug he had ever had. There really was no way of knowing.

“Me?” Lance gulped, glancing around desperately for help. Keith and Matt could only shrug helplessly. There was nothing they could do. Lance looked back down at Pidge, jaw tense. He seemed to be preparing for the worst. Everyone in the shop held their breath as they waited for Pidge’s next words. Would they have to break up a fight or not?

“Yea you! What was that competition thing you were telling us about?” Her eyes softened to something more curious and less like she was inspecting a bomb that needed diffusing by any means necessary. Keith let out a sigh of relief, but his own curiosity was peaked. What competition was she talking about? “You said that you got out of Altea because your manager announced a competition thing. What is that?”

Oh right. To avoid a mob scene, Lance had escaped the big city to come hide out in Arus. He tried to escape a mob scene and ended up stumbling directly into one here. Lance sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Being under Pidge’s scrutiny was a very draining experience. “Oh that,” Lance sighed, opening his eyes. “All it is is a talent search or talent competition thing. People from all over the country can submit a recording of them singing and the top five artists will be chosen. Then those five will come perform at a special concert. Allura and I will then choose the winner from that group and whoever wins gets a recording deal with Castle Records and a duet with me on my next record,” Lance said casually, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Lance said this as if it was no big deal as if it wasn’t the most life changing thing Keith had ever heard. Lance said this so casually as if winning this competition wouldn’t change Keith’s life forever.

Keith felt the stares before he saw them. The strongest look was coming from Shiro who seemed to be trying to tell him ‘Oh my God! This would change your life!’ with his eyes. Matt just seemed really, really excited for him. God, Keith loved Matt.

Pidge just turned to Keith, a calculating look on her face. He could see the plan Pidge was already making in her head, the gears turning and the algorithms being tested. This plan was either going to be the best idea Keith had ever heard or the worst. Granted, he had yet to hear a bad Pidge plan.

“So um, I think I know why Lotor needed the guitar,” Pidge said and all Keith could do was laugh. Of course. Lotor thought that he could somehow bullshit his way to number one in this competition and win that recording deal. Lotor had always thought that he deserved to be famous.

“What the hell? There’s no way Lotor is going to win this thing. He can’t sing or play guitar or play piano! What is he planning on doing?” Matt scoffed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Daddy’s money is a pretty magical thing. It can work miracles,” Keith muttered bitterly. He had grown up seeing the wishes Zarkon’s money granted to everyone but him.

“Keith you have too-”

“-See if I know anyone that would want to enter? Yea, you’re totally right Matt,” Keith cut him off, ignoring the raised eyebrows on Lance’s forehead. Matt and Keith locked eyes and Keith tried to have a conversation telepathically with Matt like Pidge did. He didn’t want Lance to know that he could sing. Having Lance know that he wanted to enter felt like cheating. He didn’t want whatever was happening today to affect how Keith did in this competition. If Keith was going to win this thing, it was going to be because of his talent not because one of the judges knows him.

“Woah, Woah, Woah. If this douchebag Loitor or whatever the heck his name is, thinks he can win this through the wonderful use of autotune he’s very confused,” Lance jumped in. An arm came to rest on Keith’s shoulder and he glanced over to see Shiro beside him. He had pulled his lip between his teeth, his classic thinking pose.

“What do you mean?” Keith asked. Lance turned his attention to him and Keith refused to acknowledge the little skip in his heartbeat.

“First of all, it’s not allowed. The first submission has to be your own voice without the use of editing software. Something tells me though that Lotor isn’t one to follow rules,” Keith shook his head. Lotor was the king of loopholes. “Well, then if he does make it to the concert, which I hope he doesn’t, he’s going to be stuck. The concert is a live performance. There are only as many mics as you need for your group and minimal equipment besides that. Allura wants to make sure that whoever gets signed can actually sing and isn’t relying on technical help.”

Keith smirked. Lotor’s going to be in for a shock when Daddy’s money isn’t going to be able to help him this time. And for the first time, Keith would get something that his brothers wouldn’t and he would do it without lying or bribing something.

For the first time, Keith had a real chance at winning something. He was confident in his voice and his playing ability. Now all that was left was a song choice and he knew that was going to be a bitch. If he didn’t choose the right song, his chance at becoming more than a music store employee would be shot. It all rested on that one decision.

But that was a problem for future Keith. Right now, Keith just wanted to relish in the excitement burning low in his chest. It had been a really long time since Keith had been this excited or optimistic about something in a long time. Seeing his stepfamily’s face when he won was going to be the best thing he’s ever seen.

Keith wanted to win for himself of course. But, winning out of spite wasn’t so bad either.

“Fuck Lotor,” Keith said, a smile on his face. Around him, his friends nodded and after a slight moment, Lance nodded too. Lance and Keith locked eyes and he blamed the heat surging through his body on the excitement. One guy couldn’t get Keith all hot and bothered just by looking at him. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Fuck Lotor!” The group around Keith chorused.

“I feel like we should be toasting or something,” Lane said and the others murmured their agreement. Even though there was no alcohol, Keith felt slightly buzzed just by the atmosphere of the store. He could practically feel the support and encouragement radiating from his friends. They threw subtle glances his way to show their support and really, he didn’t even need those.

Keith was lucky enough to have friends that would help him do whatever he could to win this competition. Without even having to talk about it, they all knew how much winning this thing would mean to Keith. They were prepared to sit through every song he played for them, every phone call where Keith freaked out about the song he chose, every moment of self-doubt. They were going to support him through it all.

After all, what was family for?

Chapter Text

Two weeks.

That’s how long it took for Keith’s life to turn upside down.

Because for two weeks, Keith Kogane hasn’t been able to catch a fucking break.  

It was as if his life had become two separate parts: Before Lance and After Lance. Before Lance, Keith didn’t have to worry about what he wore, who he was, or what he played. Before Lance, Keith could sing anything from show tunes to death metal without having to worry about dumb, stupid, gorgeous Lance walking in on him. Before Lance, Keith didn’t jump every time the door opened.

Now here he was, an After Lance Keith that relished the time before the store officially opened when he could test out new music on his friends without revealing his secret. An After Lance Keith that stressed about how many holes were in his favorite black shirt. 

Every day, he was bombarded with not only his shitty step-brother’s shitty guitar playing- because Keith had relented and brought home the literal worst guitar he could find in the back of Voltron’s storage room- but Lance. Which was just as bad as Lotor’s attempt at being a decent artist but in an entirely different way.

The second day Lance showed up at Voltron, Keith wasn’t prepared. He had been testing out possible songs to submit for the contest on his friend’s very forgiving ears. Keith hadn’t been able to sleep because there were so many ideas and complications floating around in his brain. Should he go classic or pop? Acoustic or electric? This was the hardest decision Keith had ever had to make in his entire life.

Keith had been sitting on the counter, guitar in his laps, visibly stressing as he ran through the chords of ‘Welcome to the Black Parade’ over his head. His brain knew the notes and the rhythms but for some reason, his fingers weren’t responding like they were supposed to. A small hand came to lay on Keith’s hand and he glanced up from the frets. Pidge had a sympathetic look on her face, “Hey relax, you’ve got this. You’re just stressing yourself out so much that you don’t think you do. Breath, Keith. Chill.”

Keith closed his eyes, nodded, and took a deep breath. For all of Pidge’s bite and snark, deep down, she was one of the most caring people he knew. It took her a long time, a long time, to warm up to somebody but once she did, she was fiercely protective of them and if they were in trouble, would do anything and everything in her power to help them out. Pidge was the one person that refused to put up with any bullshit and would help someone work out there problem then and there without letting their own self-doubt get in the way.

Keith depended on this kid so much and there were certain moments when he realized just how much he needed her. This was one of those moments.

“Thanks, Pidge.” 

“You’re welcome loser.” Ah, good ol’ Pidge.

“You should do my mans, Ed,” Matt suggested from behind the computer. Keith swung to face him and sighed. While he did love Ed Sheeran, and his voice sounded really good singing his songs, it seemed too easy, too predictable. Hundreds, probably thousands, of people would sing one of his songs and if Keith wanted to win this thing, he was going to have to be different. He was going to have to stand out.

“Hey, what about that one Riverdale song?” Shiro called out from the storage room. He had spent all morning sorting through a new shipment of inventory that had gotten messed up during shipping. Keith had never heard him swear so much.

“Which one? There are like four,” Keith asked. Voltron’s staff had binged watched the show when it came out on Netflix and man were those people fucked up. Keith knew he had issues, but he couldn’t even compare with some of those parents.

Shiro was a die hard KJ Apa fan and Pidge was in love with Madelaine Petsch and while Keith and Matt definitely recognized that Cole Sprouse had his issues, damn was he pretty to look at. Truth be told, part of the reason he gave in to Shiro’s pestering and watched the show was dark-haired Cole Sprouse. Blonde was a good look on him but there was something about the dark hair that Keith could really appreciate.

“The one Archie sings at the Variety show.”

“‘I’ll Try’,” Matt offered.

“Oh shit, you right Shiro. Keith, you have to do that one,” Pidge said and Keith shrugged.

“I mean it’s definitely the best option out of all the ones I’ve considered. It’s pretty unique too. I mean how many people know that there’s an actual soundtrack to the show right?” Pidge and Matt nodded, in yet another terrifying display of sibling synchrony.

“You know sometimes, I actually have good ideas,” Shiro said from the doorway to the main floor of the store.

“Well we can’t tell you that, can we? Your ego would be unbearable,” Matt muttered.

“Fuck you, Matt,” Shiro sighed, and Matt grinned at him from behind the computer. Shiro shook his head, but the fond smile on his face negated any malice he might have felt towards Matt. Keith glanced at Matt just to see the equally fond look on his face. Pidge and Keith made eye contact and rolled their eyes at their siblings' complete inability to realize each other’s feelings for each other.

Matt and Shiro had been best friends for what felt like forever, but what had only been about seven years. They were roommates in college freshman year and had bonded over their annoying siblings (fake and real). Even when Shiro dropped out the next year to join the military, Matt and Shiro stayed super close and when Shiro got discharge after losing his arm, it had been Matt by Keith’s side in Shiro’s hospital room.

Unfortunately, Shiro was more of a “work always, feelings never” kind of guy and Matt was just shy and awkward so he’d never tell Shiro how he felt and so, Keith and Pidge were forced to witness their mutual, disgusting pining. Shiro and Matt were good at lots of things but sadly, feelings weren’t one of those things.

“Play me a song, piano man,” Pidge sighed, spinning around in her chair. Keith chuckled but obliged, playing the opening measures to “I’ll Try.”

And as if it was destined by fate, God, whoever, the moment Keith began to sing, Voltron’s door swung open and in walked Lance McClain.

Keith choked, the song getting stuck in his throat. Matt stood up immediately, concern etched in his features as he pounded Keith on the back. Shiro came closer, the metal hand coming to rest on Keith’s knee. Pidge stayed where she was but when Keith looked up, her eyebrows were pulled together worriedly. Well, it’s nice to know some people care.

“Woah, I know I have an effect on people but not that kind of effect,” Lance joked, shutting the door behind him. Tears streaming down his face, Keith could only manage a glare at Lance. Lance held up his hands in surrender, but the stupid grin was still on his face. Keith wiped the tears away and straightened up. He shooed Matt and Shiro away, assuring them that he was just fine.

“Hey, Lance. What are you doing here?” Pidge asked nonchalantly, but Keith saw right through her facade. Last night, Keith had been on the receiving end of her overly excited texts about having Lance McClain in the store.

   Gremlin // 10:47 pm

   Holy fuck. I can’t believe that happened

   Keith // 10: 47 pm

   What??

    Gremlin // 10:47 pm

   What do you mean what?? Lance fucking McClain was at Voltron today!!!!

    Keith // 10:48 pm

   Oh…

   That

   Gremlin // 10:48 pm

    Why are you not more excited about this? I should be the one receiving fangirling texts over the fact that the literal love of your life was in our stupid little music    shop.

    Keith // 10:48 pm

   Trust me Pidge

   I am very much Not OK

   I’m just better at hiding it apparently

   Who knew you were such a Lance fan????????

    Gremlin // 10:49 pm

   Im not! It’s just there was a literal rock star in voltron

   Like that shit doesn’t happen

    Keith // 10: 49 pm

   Mhmm… sure…..

    Gremlin // 10:49 pm

   Keith whatever youre thinking- STOP

    Keith // 10:49 pm

   I’m just surprised to find out that you’re a Lance Stan™

    Gremlin // 10:50 pm

   Kogane I stg shut the fuck up

    Keith // 10:50 pm

   ♪ Pidge Holt is a Lance Stan ♪

    Gremlin // 10:50 pm

   STOP STOP STOP

   STOP STOP STOP

   CEASE AND FUCKING DESIST KOGANE

    Keith // 10:51 pm

   You know… i’ve got the best idea for a new contact name

    Lance Stan // 10:51 pm

    If it’s what I think it is youre going to regret literally every decision youve ever made that’s led you to this point in your life

    ~Screenshot sent~

   Lance Stan // 10:51 pm

   I hate you

    Keith // 10:51 pm

    Nah, you dont

    Lance Stan // 10:52 pm

     …

     Fuck you

     Keith // 10:52 pm

      Love you too pidge

 It was so easy to forget that Pidge was only 16. 16-year-old girls were supposed to be in love with rock stars and have crushes and be excited about things like said rock star hiding out at their jobs. Pidge kept that side of herself very well hidden but there were moments when it shone through.

 So, over the course of two weeks, that’s how Keith’s mornings went. Stress about what song he was going to submit for the competition, test out a few ideas, and then have a heart attack when Lance made his dramatic entrance.

 Apparently, he was still being banished to Arus and somehow, it had fallen on the Voltron staff to keep him entertained. By this point, Lance knew everybody’s favorite take out places and every single card game they played when there was no one in the store. More than once, Lance was sent out to pick up lunch or grab Shiro Advil when he came into work one morning hungover.

 Now, Lance had only really become the team’s lackey the last couple of days because at first, everyone seemed to walk on eggshells around the guy. Nobody wanted to say the wrong thing or make Lance mad because well… he was Lance McClain. A pop star. An icon.

Keith was probably the worst of the bunch. He barely spoke to Lance because he was pretty sure that if he did, a love confession was going to come pouring out of his mouth and then he would have had to spontaneously combust. If Lance spoke to him, he refused to make eye contact and in an attempt to keep Keith from throwing himself at Lance, he kept his arms crossed and fists clenched.

 He probably looked like some brooding, edgy, teenager but better that than lovesick superfan.

 Then one day passed, then two, then three, and then one week went by and slowly but surely, Keith was able to talk to Lance. He made sarcastic comments and bantered and argued about the stupidest of things. “I can’t even believe you right now. Of course, the ocean is scarier than space! We know more about space than we do our own fucking oceans!” He couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly able to talk to Lance without acting like a complete and utter idiot.

 And then one night, Keith shot straight up in bed, drenched in sweat, a realization pounding in his head. The reason he could talk to Lance was that no longer was he some unattainable, gorgeous, superstar. Keith knew Lance personally, and now Keith knew that Lance was really fucking annoying.

 God, it was like the guy knew how to push every single one of Keith’s buttons! Lance was constantly challenging Keith to stupid competitions and of course, he couldn’t refuse to participate! It was a matter of pride.

 Lance was loud and obnoxious and a total drama queen. A paper cut was as serious as an amputation and Lance acted as if he was going to die. He was a sore loser and sulked around like a 12-year-old whenever he lost one of his dumb competitions. Every little pet peeve Keith had, Lance seemed to possess.

 But equally as annoying, every little thing that Keith looked for in a guy, Lance also seemed to have. Whenever Pidge rambled on about something technical that Keith really couldn’t be bothered to listen to, Lance was there with wide eyes and rapt attention. He soaked in every word even when he looked like he had no clue what was happening. By day three, Lance had picked up on Matt’s organization system and if he saw something out of place, he fixed it. If Shiro ever needed help unloading boxes, Lance was there before Keith could even process the request for help.

 Lance was infuriating, but he was also one of the kindest people Keith had ever met. God, this would have been so much easier if Lance had been a dick. Then everyone could have banded together to ban Lance from Voltron. But no. He had to go and be helpful, and nice, and sweet, and really really pretty. But maybe that last thing was only a problem for Keith.

 By the end of week two though, Keith had really mastered his facade. He was going for a stubborn, yet endearing, guy that seemed bothered by nothing and could handle anything. Keith thought he was pulling it off and that was all that mattered. Well, he was pulling it off until Lance came in one morning with the biggest grin on his face.

 It was the type of grin that seemed to embody pure sunshine in it. It was a smile that could melt snow or could warm someone up on a cold winter’s night. It was the best damn thing Keith had ever seen.

 “Keith! Keith! Keith!” Lance cried, stumbling his way to the counter. Instinctively, Keith shushed him a little bit as he glanced over to the mother and her young son that were in the store. The son had just joined his school’s band and was searching for a loaner trumpet because his school wasn’t able to offer every kid an instrument to use. “Sorry,” Lance whispered.

 “What’s up, Lance?”

 “Look!” Lance slapped a piece of paper down on the counter, drawing Pidge’s attention up from the computer. Keith picked it up, and as he read it, dread started to rise up in him.

 “Let me see!” Pidge yanked the paper from Keith’s hands. “Purrs & Pastries?”

 “There they make a purrfect cup of coffee every time,” Lance winked and it did nothing to help the feeling in Keith’s stomach. “It’s a cafe where you can play with cats, drink coffee, and eat pastries!” Lance looked so excited, while Keith wanted nothing more than to run away. He didn’t have to look next to him to see the wicked grin on Pidge’s face. She knew as well he did that Keith wouldn’t be able to handle Lance surrounded by a bunch of cute cats.

 He would probably implode right then and there.

 Pidge was well aware of this which was probably why she called Matt and Shiro over to the counter. “Hey, guys! Come look at this!” Shiro excused himself from the mother/son duo and Matt emerged from the depths of the shelves. Pidge pushed the flyer Matt’s way and Shiro read over his shoulder.

“Oh yeah, I know about this place. Shay’s the owner,” Shiro said.

“Oh, she’s back?” Keith asked and Shiro nodded. Shay was another one of Shiro’s college buddies and had subsequently become a sister to Keith.

“Who’s Shay?” Lance asked, glancing between Keith and Shiro.

“She’s an old family friend. About six months ago, she left on some trip to China-” 

“Thailand,” Matt cut in.

“Oh right, Thailand. She helped out at the elephant sanctuaries and apparently it was a life changing experience. Over there, they had a cafe like this and Shay fell in love with the idea. So she quit her job and opened this place,” Shiro explained.

Lance looked so amazed, eyes wide and sparkling. “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. Shay sounds awesome.”

Pidge nodded solemnly, “She is. She’s probably the best person ever.” Keith couldn’t help but agree. He hadn’t met anyone nearly as nice or as helpful as Shay. She was the kind of person you were desperate to be friends with.

“We have to go!”

“Um of course we do. It’s Shay, kittens, and coffee. Literally, nothing could be better,” Matt agreed. He turned to Shiro, puppy dog eyes in full swing. “Please, can we close up early?”

Keith glared at Shiro, silently willing him to say no. Resist! Be strong! Shiro was the only one that could save him at this moment. Shiro owned the store, he could tell Lance to fuck off, that they had to work. He was the one that would save Keith from having to interact with a Lance surrounded by kittens- a.k.a the epitome of cute. In this moment, Keith’s fate rested in Shiro’s hands.

Shiro glanced over at Keith and then back to Matt. Keith cursed when he saw Pidge join in on the puppy dog eyes. Any hope of Keith being able to get out of this was dashed when he saw the blush creep into Shiro’s cheeks.

Fuck Shiro and his stupid feelings.

“What’s the harm? When this family leaves, we can go.”

Lance, Pidge, and Matt cheered, pumping fists in the air and dancing around. The three of them were brimming with excitement.

Shiro looked at Keith, eyes wide and apologetic.

“Traitor.”

“I’m sorry. They were just so excited.”

Keith groaned and flopped back onto the counter. “Yea, yea, yea. Whatever. But if I die, that’s on you. Please put ‘My brother stabbed me in the back’ on my tombstone.”

“Oh stop being so dramatic,” Keith could hear the eye roll in Shiro’s voice. “You won’t die. It’ll be fun.”

Oh, Shiro. Poor, naive Shiro.

Keith was absolutely going to die.

 But in the grand scheme of things, there were worst ways to go, right?

~~~~~~

Keith didn’t expect this place not to be awesome. Come on, it was a cafe where you could just pet cats and hang out and drink coffee. What could be better?

But Keith really hadn’t been prepared for how aesthetic this place was. It looked like it had been plucked right out of somebody’s Tumblr. Fairy lights were draped all over the walls, the glow radiating off of the off-white walls of Purrs & Whiskers. Grey couches and chairs were adorned with pink and white pillows, and cats lounged on the armrests of a few of them.

A chalkboard hung behind the counter, and a fancy glass cabinet displayed all of their pastries. Pictures of the cats and their backgrounds hung on a bulletin board. White, flowy, curtains hung beside open windows, a light breeze making them dance. There were a few Polaroid pictures of past guests and the cats clipped to the fairy lights with clothes pins.

God, where was Buzzfeed when you needed them?

“Oh. My God,” Pidge gasped and never before had Keith seen her face so bright and happy. Pidge’s eyes shone and Keith felt his heart swell. One of the cats walked over and butted its head against Pidge’s legs. She crouched down with the biggest smile on her face, and Keith had to bury his head in Shiro’s shoulder because she was just so fucking cute. In a completely platonic way of course.

“Shiro? Oh my God!” Keith glanced up to see the tall woman come out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on a towel. She was very, very tall, and had dark hair that was pulled into two buns on the top of her head.

Shiro laughed and pulled Shay into a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Shay! It’s been so long.” Apparently, this place was a breeding ground for warm, fuzzy feelings. Shiro had a giant ass smile on his face and the annoyed look Matt was wearing didn’t escape Keith’s notice. And apparently Lance’s.

Lance slipped an arm over Matt’s shoulders and bumped him with his hip. “Don’t look so glum Matt. That,” he pointed to Shay and Shiro, “looks pretty platonic. And I don’t know, this place seems pretty magical. Who knows what could happen?” Lance smiled.

“Thanks, Lance,” Matt smiled and bumped Lance too. Holy shit, Matt just made physical contact with Lance McClain and didn’t spontaneously combust. What is happening? Keith’s life really was turning upside down.

“Keith,” Pidge whispered, tugging on his hand. “What’s happening?” Keith could only shake his head.

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe this place really is magical,” Pidge wondered, staring her brother down.

Shiro and Shay broke apart, and Shay turned a brilliant smile one Keith. “Hey, Keith! It's good to see you again!” Before he could protest, her arms were around Keith. Purely out of habit, he stiffened at the touch but soon found himself relaxing into her warm embrace. Keith felt the muscles in her back under his hands, her skin warm to the touch. Shay had always been the best at giving hugs.

“I'm glad you're back. It's hard being the only sane one,” Shay pulled away and smacked his arm lightly, but there was a smile on her face nonetheless.

Shay hugged Matt close, and Keith was proud to see that there wasn't a hint of jealousy on Matt's face. He even buried his head into Shay's neck, enjoying the hug. Matt and Shay were both really good at giving hugs respectively so when they hugged, it was a hug of epic of proportions. Then she scooped Pidge up and spun her around, and if literally, anybody else had done that, they would have had their social security number leaked all over the deep web. 

 Then she turned to  Lance, who seemed really put on edge by Shay, and introduced herself. Keith couldn’t understand why until she said, “Hi! I’m Shay,” with a giant smile and Keith saw Lance’s shoulders visibly relax.

  Oh, she didn’t do the crazy fan thing , Keith thought. Keith had seen the videos of girls and guys throwing themselves onto Lance after a performance and Shay didn’t even seem to notice who Lance was. That must have been the relief in Lance’s face- the crinkles by his eyes when he smiled, and the easy way he laughed at one of Matt’s lame jokes.

 With a start, Keith realized that that care free way Lance smiled and laughed was the same way he acted around the Voltron staff. Whenever a customer walked into the store, Lance would either duck behind Matt or Shiro or clench his teeth or tighten his shoulders. I guess being a pop star isn’t all that glamorous…

 “Thank you guys so much for coming! I was actually pretty worried about starting this up, but so far business has been pretty good!”

“Shay you have nothing to be worried about. This place is every hipster’s dream,” Keith squeezed her shoulder. At his feet, a tiny kitten mewed. Keith had to stifle his gasp before sitting down, cross legged on the floor. The cat wasted no time in crawling into Keith’s lap and settling down.

“Shiro?”

“Yes, Keith?”

“I’m going to need you to get me a coffee and a croissant because I am never moving from this spot.” Keith scratched in between the cat's ears, and his heart had never felt happier than when purrs started to rumble out from the kitten. Shiro laughed and Shay led him away, Matt and Pidge following close behind to put their orders in.

Lance sat down next to him, rubbing a hand over the cat’s fur. Keith pushed him away, “Hey! Get your own!” He whined, pulling the kitten closer to his chest.

“Woah! Calm down kitten police! I’m not trying to steal your cat!” And then Lance was completely on the floor. A kitten had barrelled itself into Lance’s chest, pushing him to the ground. Keith laughed, muffling it behind one hand.

Lance struggled to sit up, the tiny cat scaling Lance’s tank top, claws making tiny holes in the fabric. Scratches littered Lance’s really broad shoulders- the same one’s Keith had been trying not to stare at all day. They weren’t super bulky but muscled enough to know that Lance definitely worked out. Probably at a gym, where he probably got really sweaty-

Woah Kogane. Take it down a notch. Maybe you should have ordered a glass of water instead of a coffee.

“It looks like somebody likes me too. You can keep your kitten. Mine loves me,” Lance stuck his tongue out as the cat perched itself on his shoulder. Lance looked so cute, with a giant smile on his face as he gazed at the cat on his shoulder. It had fiery red fur and bright green eyes that seemed to scream mischief. One of its ears had a piece missing, and it seemed to make the cat lopsided as its head seemed permanently tilted. Lance had those little crinkles by the corners of his eyes again and Keith didn't miss the way Lance's back muscles rippled when he moved a hand to pet the kitten. Fuck tank tops and whoever invented them. 

“Are you sure about that?” Keith cocked an eyebrow and Lance stared at him skeptically.

“What are you talking about?”

Keith reached a hand across Lance’s chest- damn, it’s really broad- and held it out to the kitten. It sniffed it apprehensively before butting its head against his fist. Lance scoffed as the kitten climbed down Lance’s chest and walked across their laps to Keith. As the kitten settled itself on Keith’s knee, Keith winked at Lance, amused by how offended Lance looked.

Holy shit, he just winked at Lance. Why the hell did he do that? Who did he think he was? God, what kind of witchcraft was this?

Luckily, Lance didn’t seem to think he was a total weirdo. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, pouting. He didn’t pout for long though because the kitten in Keith’s lap lifted its head as if it knew there was another cat in Keith’s presence. With its pink nose in the air, the kitten pulled itself out of Keith’s lap and strutted to Lance’s. It curled back up, tail falling over its nose.

Lance looked down in awe at the cat in his lap. Then, he glanced up at Keith and the awe became smugness. “Ha! Take that Kogane. This one likes me better!” Lance stuck his tongue out at Keith like he was five. That didn’t mean Keith didn’t stick his tongue out at Lance too. He had to get even though! It was a matter of pride!

“Well, you got abandoned first. So ha! I win.”

Cue the eye roll. “You suck.”

And as if his brain utterly despised him, Keith said, “And I swallow.”

It was as if the cafe went deadly silent as Keith made eye contact with Lance. Lance’s blue eyes were blown wide, and Keith probably looked as utterly mortified as he felt.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

This is it. This is the end of Keith Kogane. Time to fucking throw himself off a fucking bridge. Or maybe step out into oncoming traffic. Whatever would give him the sweet release of death faster. Maybe he could chug an entire gallon of milk? Shay would probably have one in the back somewhere.

And then as if God himself was smiling down on him, Lance started to laugh. Like, really laugh. His shoulders were shaking, and he had doubled over as much as possible while clutching his stomach. The kitten stared up at him, offended by Lance disturbing its sleep. Wow, those two were meant for each other.

God, Keith loved listened to Lance’s laugh, even if he was laughing at Keith. It was a beautiful sound, and he really wanted to make it his ring tone. But that would be really weird. Right?

“Oh my God,” Lance said shakily, wiping a tear from his eye. “Holy shit Kogane, that was really good. Who knew you of all people made dirty jokes?” Lance was slowly but surely regaining his composure, small laughs escaping his lips occasionally as he exhaled.

“Wait what is that supposed to mean? You don’t think I can make dirty jokes?” Because of course, Keith couldn’t let anything that sounded even remotely like a challenge slip past him. It was a flaw of his: this desire to be the best at everything. Maybe it had to do with the whole “I live with three people that think I’m worthless” thing. It’s like, he wants to prove to his shitty family that he isn’t a waste of space. His own personal fuck you to Lotor, Sendak, and Zarkon.

"I'm not saying that it's just you don't really seem like the type of guy who would." Lance shrugged, and Keith felt the competitiveness inside of him start to bristle.

"I'll have you know that I make excellent dirty jokes. I've just been on my best behavior this past couple of weeks," Keith said. It was actually true. Most of the time, everyone had to watch what they said because Keith was a master of manipulating their words into something totally inappropriate. It was truly a gift.

"Well, I want you to bring it Kogane."

"Oh, it’s on, McClain."

Keith met Lance's eyes, and if this had been some cheesy romance novel, he would have said that there was a spark of electricity when their eyes met, but this wasn't a book, this was reality. And even if there was a spark, it was completely one sided.

"That one's name is Blue by the way," Keith said, trying to move on from the electricity he felt. Lance blinked, shaking his head.

"What?"

"The kitten," Keith pointed to the bulletin board. "Her name is Blue. And this one is Red," Keith scratched the kitten between her ears. Red let out an appreciative purr and arched into the touch. Keith could feel himself falling in love with the little kitten, but he tried to nip it in the bud. He would never be able to bring a kitten home to that house. That hell house was no place for such an angel. 

"Man, Shay can really come up with names huh?" Lance joked, squinting at the bulletin board. 

Keith shrugged, "They're probably just temporary names."

"Temporary names?"

"Yeah, ones that shelter workers use so they can call kittens things other than 'orange one with missing ear or blue one with the really pink nose.' They tend to be really dumb names, so most people change them once they adopt the animal," Keith explained, rattling off the information like it had been beaten into his head. Well, it kind of had been, but completely unintentionally.

"Woah, how do you know all of that?" Lance looked at him in awe, voice quiet and soft. The hushed tone ran up and down Keith's spine and how he wished for the loud and annoying Lance he knew so well to make an appearance. 

Keith bit his lip, contemplating how to answer his question. How does one casually mention that their dead mother used to work at an animal shelter and that when his mother was feeling particularly energetic, she would tell him all sorts of stories from her time there? One of those stories being one where she ended up adopting a cat with the temporary name Spork?

"My mom used to work at an animal shelter. She used to talk about random stuff like that all the time," Keith said, settling for a vague yet accurate version of the truth.

"Oh, that's so cool! My oldest sister is actually in school to become a vet tech! Does she still work at the shelter?"

"Um," Keith took a deep breath, "no. She passed away when I was eight." Keith braced himself for the normal, rushed 'Oh I'm so sorry!' or 'My second cousin twice removed died when I was eight too. I know how you feel!' but it never came. Instead, Lance placed his hand in Keith's and squeezed. If he hadn't been momentarily distracted by the thoughts of his mom, Keith's brain would have short circuited. 

"I'm sorry Keith. I can't imagine what that feels like, but I am truly sorry." And you know what? Keith actually believed him. Lance seemed to be searching Keith's face for something, but he could see the genuine emotion in his eyes and Keith's heart contract painfully. Screw you too, feelings. Who needs you?

Keith squeezed Lance's hand back before letting go. Why he did that, he would never know, but he did. "Thank you, Lance. It means a lot," and when Keith smiled at Lance, it felt like the biggest smile Keith had given someone in a really, really long time. 

Shay turned to Shiro with a sigh, pouring him a cup of coffee. "They're totally oblivious, huh?"

Shiro nodded, "Unfortunately."

"I mean this is Keith we're talking about. He's never going to do anything about this," Shay whispered. The little group watched Keith and Lance bicker back and forth and to a stranger, they would totally look like a couple. Their knees were a little too close together, their smiles were a little too wide, and they kept leaning their heads forward to talk to one another when there was absolutely no need to do that. These poor boys had it bad and they didn't even know it.

"Of course he won't. It's Keith I-must-repress-every-emotion-ever Kogane. That's why I have a plan," Pidge spoke up, a twinkle in her eyes. Shay lit up; she was always up for a good plan and Pidge seemed like the type of person that came up with the best ones.

"Pidge is it illegal?" Shiro asked the Dad Voice in full swing.

"No."

"Is anyone going to get seriously injured?"

"No."

"Is anyone going to get arrested?"

"No! Shiro, have you no faith in me?" Shiro just raised an eyebrow at her, that one gesture conveying just how little faith Shiro had in the girl. He didn't feel the need to bring up just how many times he had bailed Pidge or Matt out of jail because one of their plans had gone horribly wrong, or how many times he had had to pay their hospital bill because they had miscalculated an experiment.

"I promise that no one will get hurt. Now, do you want to hear what the plan is or not?" Pidge stuck one hand on her hip and the other pushed her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.

Shiro glanced over at his hopeless brother. Keith would never realize it or admit it, but he was a better person when he was around Lance. He was more open- he made jokes and sarcastic comments and had given Lance more fond smiles than Shiro had ever seen in his entire life. It had been a really long time since Shiro had seen him this happy. Sure, Keith was happy when Lance was around, but this was different. This Keith reminded Shiro an awful lot of a seven-year-old kid that would dance with his mother in the kitchen to awful disco music. This Keith was genuinely happy- there was no facade, no forced smile to make Shiro happy. Lance made Keith feel actual, genuine emotion, and Shiro would do whatever he could to help keep that in Keith's life. 

One day, Keith would thank him for this. That day wouldn't be today or any day in the near future, but one day. Definitely one day.

Shiro sighed and turned back to Pidge. "Alright, what'd you got?"

Chapter Text

Lance spun in circles, a pen fiddling between his fingers. He heard Allura’s annoyed sigh, but it wasn’t enough to break the spin cycle. These meetings with Allura seemed to be happening more and more recently and they all seemed to be saying the same thing- Lance, you need to finish this album, Lance we need to talk about this competition, Lance please pay attention- so what was the point in listening anymore? “Lance, please,” came Allura’s voice and he slowly drifted to a pause in front of her. It was different than the normal annoyed and angry tone she used when talking to him, this time she sounded tired and it was something Lance had never heard before. The pen dropped onto the table between them, the harsh blue standing out against the pale silver metal desktop. Before him, Allura sat with her back pulled straight and the silver hair that may or may not be real- Lance didn’t know- pulled just as tightly into a high bun. As always, her shirt was pressed and her eyeliner was flawless but beneath those impossibly sharp wings were deep set bags Lance hadn’t noticed before. It was something he had never noticed before because he could have sworn that they had never been there before. Or maybe they had been there for a while and he had never noticed. Damn.

“Sorry. What’s up?” In front of Allura was her normal array of papers and from this, she picked out a few, one of them a bright blue color. He knew that color. That was the color of the music competition Allura had roped him into for more publicity. Truth be told, Lance never wanted this competition. He thought it was tacky and classless and if he was going to get anywhere with his career, he wanted it to be based on his own talent and not on some competition’s terms. Allura’s thought was that this competition would make him seem more personable, help him reach a wider audience, and bring a new talent to Castle Records. Why they needed someone else on the label, he would never know, but apparently, they did. Apparently, this small little family wasn’t enough for Allura. Not that he believed that but, it was easier than facing a different reality.

“Lance, this is very hard for me to say- “

“Then why say it you know? It’d be so much easier than to let everything stay unsaid.”

“Lance,” Allura’s hand rested over his, “Castle Records is during a discussion to be bought out by Galra Music.”

“Oh my God,” Lance muttered and put his head on the desk, the metal cool against his burning forehead. This is it. The reality he didn’t want to think about.

It was hard not to overhear the terse, whispered conversations between Allura and her uncle Coran about the fate of Castle Records. This label had been founded by Allura’s father, Alfor, and they were both determined to uphold his legacy by making sure Castle Records stayed afloat. That plan worked despite being basically fueled by only Allura’s unquenchable determination and terrifying work ethic up until about 10 years ago when Galra Music came into the picture. This new guy Zarkon and his company seemed to be intent on taking over the entire music industry. At first, Castle Records didn’t even glance at Galra Music, they were fine. Then artists started leaving the label for that Zarkon-fueled hellhole, and Castle started to feel the pressure. Then they started to crack under the pressure. Now, they’re so many cracks in Castle Records, the only thing keeping them together was Hunk, Lance, and this competition.    

  “Listen, these talks are only a formality.” Lance raised an eyebrow, and Allura sighed again. He got the feeling that’d be a sound he heard a lot during this meeting. “Coran and I are just keeping our options open. It physically pains me to say this but, my father’s legacy is in jeopardy and if joining with GM is going to keep even part of that legacy alive then I have to at least consider it.” Lance scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning away from the desk.

“Allura, there’s gotta be something else we can do. Zarkon’s been nothing but a bully and a dick since he came into the playing field. I mean, I know I was like 11 when he first came onto the scene but still. You know how many times he’s tried to poach me! And his sons are just as bad as he is.” Lotor and Sendak were the two literal worst people Lance had ever met. Lotor was prissy and talked as if he was an undercover British monarch that had a shitty voice to begin with and the fake American accent wasn’t really helping and Sendak… God, there weren’t words to describe the dickbag that Sendak was.

“God, I know, right?” Allura sunk down and put her head in her hands, laughing drily. “They’re horrible people but there’s nothing else I can do. There is literally no other option. A fact I am reminded of nearly every day by Zarkon or his PR witch Haggar,” Allura muttered, an alert going off on her phone. “Fuck me, speak of the devil,” Allura held up her phone. On the screen was an email from Haggar Ludvig with the subject line: A List of Things Castle Records Really Should be Doing Instead of Whatever It’s Doing Right Now. Rage burned up inside Lance, his cheeks flushing and hands balling slightly.

“Who does she think she is? She can’t talk- or email, I guess technically- you like that! Allura, you know that I will fight her for you.” He leaned in, tapping his fist on the desk. Allura laughed, patting his face. Hearing Allura laugh made this shitty situation just a little better. Making Allura laugh was a favorite activity of his, even more so now that he wasn’t rejected every time he opened his mouth.

“Thank you, Lance, but that won’t be necessary. You and I are both aware that I can handle a 67-year-old demon.” Allura crossed her arms, biceps bulging. Lance smiled, thinking back to the time he tried to be funny and scare Allura and ended up in the hospital with a mild concussion after she flipped him over her shoulder.

“Yea, if anyone can handle a Galra drone, it’d be you. You’re the toughest person I know.” Lance squeezed Allura’s hand and she smiled.

“Thank you. I know it’s true. Now, onto the reason for this meeting.” She slid across the trio of papers and the sight of the red circles and yellow highlighter made Lance groan. Internally, of course, he didn’t have a death wish after all.

“So, as you know, all of the demos have been sent in and the announcement of the next round of applicants is in a few weeks. Now, we get to sort through the entries. Luckily, Coran and Olia weeded out all the non-serious entries. So, we are now tasked with searching through the rest of the entries and selecting the top 50 that shall move on to the next round.” Allura reached over and tipped the box onto its side. CDs scattered all over the desktop, the natural light that poured through Allura’s windows creating windows in the packaging of a few of them. The laptop had been spun around to show Lance the horrendously long list of online entries.

“Why the hell do we have to do this? Can’t Coran and Olia do this bit too? They know just as well as you and better than me what this label needs.” Lance ran his hand through the wave of CDs, his hand disappearing under translucent orange and purple casing.

“I mean if you truly want to have no say in who you record with and base all of your future publicity off of- “

“Where do I start?” Lance picked up a case at random, the name ‘Meredith Grant’ scrawled hastily across the CD. It was as if she had forgotten she needed to put a name on the CD before submitting it. Lance could relate to that; the number of times he used to write his name on homework assignments and tests on the way to the teacher’s desk to turn it in was a bit embarrassing.

Allura laughed, “I knew that would strike an interest in you. Here, take this laptop, “ and like some kind of magician, Allura pulled a computer and a pair of headphones out of what seemed like thin air, “pick a CD and begin. On those papers is the list of all contestants. The ones crossed off in red are obviously the ones that were discarded by Coran and Olia and the highlighted ones are those they felt we should pay extra attention to.” Lance nodded, glancing at the list.

It was overwhelming, the double-sided pages that seemed to have over a thousand names on them. Thankfully, most of them were covered in red which left maybe two or three hundred names to get through.

It wasn’t just the sheer mass of entries that was overwhelming. Inside each CD case or envelope or mp3 file was someone’s hopes and dreams. Some people submitted to this thing just for the hell of it, but there were others that had their entire future rests on whether he picked their song in the end. Crossing someone off in red ink felt almost like signing away this person’s dreams and Lance didn’t know if he could have handled that pressure. What if Allura had crossed his name off when she first heard of him? What if she hadn’t taken a chance on him? Where would he be now?

“Hey,” Allura tapped the table right in front of Lance. His gaze shot up to hers, dark eyes filled with understanding. “It is almost impossible to not select everyone you hear from. Trust me, I understand this feeling more than most. You must remember though that most of these people sent in a song with the understanding that they most likely will not get chosen. It is hard to bear the power here, but know that you are not hurting anyone. Crossing someone off that list will not damn them to hell. It will simply lead them to the life that they were meant to live.”

Lance cracked a half smile, nodding slightly. “When the hell did you get so wise? I swear you weren’t this insightful when we first met.”

“I have always been this brilliant, you just never listened to me because you were in love with me,” she muttered, already reaching for a CD.

Lance fell back against his chair, hand over his heart. “Madam! You wound me! How quickly you dismiss our raging and passionate love!” A pen hit his cheek, the red ballpoint clattering to the table.

“Get to work, asshat,” Allura sighed affectionately. Lance grinned before plugging in the headphones and popping in the closest CD.

It was going to be a long day.

~~

Two hours later and 36 going on 37 auditions later, Lance was ready to chuck his computer out of a window. So far, everyone had been awful and Lance wasn’t one to throw that term around casually. He had been called that by hundreds of people on the internet, the comments section of his videos littered with hateful critiques and blatantly rude comments. Seeing those hurtful words from people he didn’t even know did a number to his self-esteem and so he made himself a promise to try and be as positive as possible all the time. This promise included not using words like “awful” and “horrible” and “dear God make it stop.”

But damn.

There had been one girl that was worth considering, that Meredith girl. She had sung a cover of “Turning Tables” by Lance’s one true love Adele. It had been a bit out of her range and completely wrong for her vocal talent- imagine someone with a Dodie Clark-esque voice trying to hit the belts of Adele- but the skill and passion were clearly evident within her tape. He had circled her in a blue highlighter, making her the first addition to Lance’s selection of yeses. Allura and he both had to choose 25 artists, divvying up the submissions between them.

Allura kept having to remind him that this selection was not as serious as the next round would be so his 50 didn’t have to be the next Bruno Mars or Birdie. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Lance knew this, it was just hard for him to accept. As a personal standard, he never accepted anything less than perfect- hello anxiety- but it was hard for him to separate personal and public standards. Not everyone could be as talented as him, of course.

So as the intro to number 37’s song began to play, Lance focused on keeping an open mind. The opening chords were instantly recognizable, as he heard this song on the way here this morning. “Mermaid” was arguably one of Train’s best songs after all.

Can’t swim so I took a boat

To an island so remote

Only Johnny Depp had ever been there before

Lance couldn’t help the little gasp he made as the man on the CD began to sing. His voice was melting around the words, shaping them as carefully as an artisan craftsman. There was a purpose behind these first few words that drew Lance in, the stunning voice keeping him there. This was a voice that reminded Lance of a crackling fire, the slight rasp creating a warm and almost familiar feeling within him. Despite the pure intensity that was coming from these lines, there was a beauty to them all the same. As he listened, the accompaniment faded away until he was solely focused on the singer.

The first verse ended too soon but Lance didn’t mind when he heard the singer launched into the chorus, pulling Lance along for the ride.

Beauty in the water

Angel on the beach

Ocean’s daughter

I thought love was out of reach

Until I got her

Had I known it could come true

I would have wished in ‘92

For a mermaid, just like you

Number 37’s lack of pronoun changing made Lance frown. What were the chances Lance was going to fall in love with the voice of a straight guy? This disappointment was soon pushed aside for his love as the simple guitar strumming and stunning voice combined to create something Lance hadn’t heard in a very long time and certainly not from numbers 2-36. Number 37 was special and the proof was in the melodic and rich voice that was blessing Lance’s eardrums.

His voice wasn’t technically perfect as there were a few missed notes to better accommodate for his register and of course that delicious rasp that sounded as if the singer smoked just a little bit but it was in these imperfections that Lance loved this artist. There was such a confidence in the record this man was making that Lance couldn’t help but appreciate the man. It was also evident how much pure love and passion there was for music in this guy’s voice. Someone that hadn’t invested their entire life into music could have had no hope in creating the warm feeling Lance was experiencing purely from their voice; to convey such emotion to an audience required time and practice and the artist to have enough emotion to share with others.

Then the song was ending and Lance was prepared to fight Allura for the strict time constraints she had instituted for the competition entries. “Only one minute per entry. That way each contestant will be forced to showcase their strongest talents and so we can also move through these entries quickly and efficiently. If you aren’t hooked from the moment someone begins to sing, move on.”

As the song came to an official end, Lance had to hold back the temptation to replay the track. There wasn’t time for that. He had been invited to a game night with Hunk and Shay and he wouldn’t dare miss an opportunity to kick Hunk’s ass in Monopoly. Best friend or no, Hunk was just too fucking nice to play Monopoly the correct way. Monopoly was not just a fun board game to play with your friends, it was a game of skill, strategy, and war.

“Allura,” Lance waved a hand to get the woman’s attention. She looked up and took out an earbud as he did the same. “Is it possible to fall in love with someone just based on their voice?” He sighed, leaning onto his hands.

“Oh yes, definitely,” she said seriously, nodding her head sagely. “That is one of the challenges of a contest like this, not letting this love interfere with your decision making. But if you are the one falling in love with a voice, then they must be extremely talented. Who is he?”

Lance blinked, not having ever checked the name on the CD case as he had blindly reached for it. A sudden excitement built in him at the idea of having a voice to match the beautiful voice on the tape. Not that he would ever do anything with this information during the competition but afterward… well after the competition, all bets were off.

At the sight of the clear casing, Lance almost started sobbing because on the stupid and cheap CD case was a single word. One single word. An adjective of all things.

Because the man he was in love with was simply named, “Red”.

Chapter Text

The bowtie was awkward against Keith’s throat. It was just a bit too tight, but no one seemed to care if Keith could breathe. The dark vest clung to him in awkward places and the cuffed shirt dug into his elbows. His pants, however, were excellent, and Keith wasn’t ashamed to admit that they made his ass look good. Not that anyone ever noticed him or his ass at events like this.

Grace filled his try with small hors oeuvres with a small smile then spun him around and pushed him right back out the kitchen doors. Zarkon was strict about having food and champagne constantly available to his party guests; his logic is that the fuller and more drunk people get, the more money they’re willing to spend. It was sound logic and Keith had seen it in action. Once, Zarkon had gotten a group of 20 people to give him over a million dollars just because of vegetable skewers and Dom Perignon.

“Keith! I wasn’t sure you were going to work this one. I didn’t see your name on the schedule.” Thace walked up to Keith, a stark contrast to Keith as Thace’s suit was a rich blue. Thace was one of Zarkon’s right-hand men but had always been nicer to Keith than all the others. They had bonded over tragic backstories, Thace growing up in the foster system as he had never known his father or mother.

“When is my name ever on the schedule?” Thace nodded thoughtfully. “I got an email from the witch early today saying I was summoned tonight. Thace, she used the word “summoned.” Tell me that isn’t suspicious.”

Thace groaned, shaking his head. His tray started to tilt and Keith caught it with an expert hand. “Thank you. But, Keith, Haggar isn’t a true witch. She may dress in those dark colors but she isn’t a Pagan or a Wiccan or an actual witch. You must let this one theory go. It may get you into trouble one day.”
“And I’d say ‘Bring it on, bitch.’ I’m not scared of her or my stepfather.” Keith relaxed his hand, which had unintentionally balled into a fist. His stepfather always brought out the worst in him.

“I know. It causes me concern.” Thace said, pushing open the side doors that led to the grand ballroom. Zarkon was hosting an event for Galra Music investors. It was important to keep those that gave him the millions he lived off happy. As always, they were in the largest ballroom the hotel Daibaazal had, three crystal chandeliers hanging above them and ornate columns surrounding the dance floor. Small tables had been set up in the hallways created by the columns but no one was sitting. It was bad form to sit.

Keith took up his route, making laps around the room, weaving between the columns to avoid the rudest or most chatty guests. There were about fifty to sixty investors all with at least two of guests of their own, so Keith was drowning in the sheer number of people. Food was occasionally snuck off his tray, mostly by women trying to be inconspicuous about what they ate or the fact that they ate at all. Most were squeezed into the form-fitting gowns they wore and a single tartlet would ruin their figure. The men were too busy drinking to eat, which was going to be hilarious later.
The party was making its way to the climax, steadily climbing with each guest that arrived. They chatted politely amongst themselves and their bland conversation seemed to accurately reflect the guests. Boring, with nothing of substance. The food was beginning to dwindle so Keith began to make his way back towards the servant doors.

“Ah! Lance!” Keith stopped in his tracks, almost running into an old woman. The words had cut through layers of chatter and light violins, driving deep into his heart. It was as if his brain was constantly scanning for the name and caused Keith to momentarily shut down whenever it heard it.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he murmured before spinning around and heading towards the voice. He could feel the woman’s narrowed gaze on his back but honestly couldn’t care less about it. Sneaking around the outside of the hallway, Keith moved his way to the main entrance, the large and obnoxious doors thrown wide open. Music and the smell of the food filtered into the hallways, enticing guests before they had even set foot in the ballroom. While he would never admit Zarkon was good at anything, he was smart and knew how people worked. He was a master manipulator across all fronts.

Standing in the doorway was in fact, Lance McLain. He wore an ocean blue suit with bold white, orange, and pink flowers printed on it. The colors were warm against his skin, the blue accenting his eyes while the pink picked up the warm tones of his skin. It was open, revealing the tight white shirt he wore underneath and a skinny black tie. Fuck him and that stupid shirt and the stupid jacket that showed off those stupid broad shoulders. Fuck Keith and his gay feelings. Fuck everything honestly.

Lance looked annoyed, eyes narrowed at the person that had called his name. Prorok stood by the door, low enough to be appointed greeter but not so low he was serving food. It seemed that he had been told to be on the lookout for Lance as this was the first time Keith had seen the man smile or attempt to at least as his lips were awkwardly twisted and he looked insanely uncomfortable. A hand was extended towards Lance but Lance only glanced at it with a bored, drooping expression. It dropped awkwardly back to Prorok’s side as a woman stepped up next to Lance.

Black mesh with crossing lines and floral accents covered her to the neck while an opaque skirt extended down her hips then flared at the knees, and her white hair was pulled into a bun with a twist of it at her hairline then joining the rest of her hair. There was no doubt that she was gorgeous and Keith would have felt a simmering jealousy but he knew that this was Allura, the new CEO of Castle Records and close friend of Lance’s. Allura wore the same bored look but Keith could see there was a fire burning in her eyes, intimidation radiating off her. Prorok seemed to feel it as he took a step back, distancing himself from the quietly confident duo.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you once more but I would so hate to lie,” Allura said calmly, accent rolling over the insult pleasantly. Lance smirked, the small grin going straight to Keith’s well… everything. Prorok’s jaw tightened but he forced down the tension and smiled that strangled smile again.
“Ms. Lowe, it’s a pleasure to welcome both you and Mr. McLain tonight.” The words were forced and tight and Keith could only roll his eyes. He had no idea why they were both here- their company and Zarkon’s were mortal enemies- but it was certainly no pleasure. Lance had the same idea, arms crossing over his chest.
“The feeling isn’t mutual. Where is your fearless leader anyway? We only came to have a conversation because his lackey wouldn’t respond to Allura’s requests for a meeting.” Lance’s tone betrayed his uninterested expression, each syllable short and clipped. Allura gripped his elbow and gave him a warning look and he sighed, sinking back slightly.

“Zarkon is conversing with some very important investors but as soon as he is free, I’ll tell him to come find you.” Keith winced, Allura’s hands digging into her biceps.

“Oh, excellent. I’m ecstatic to see the company he is trying to take over is so high on his priority list.” Wait. What? Zarkon was going after Castle? Keith was more so surprised that this was the first he was hearing about this, not so much the fact itself. Zarkon was a tycoon, scooping up music labels left and right. Normally he would be gloating about his latest acquisition but he had been radio silent on this one so Allura must have been putting up one hell of a fight. She took a step forward, almost face to face with Prorock and dropped her voice so low Keith almost couldn’t hear it. “I highly suggest you tell your boss to find me and Mr. McLain as soon as he can. He does not want to deal with my wrath tonight.”

Prorok nodded, a silent fury burning in his normally dead eyes. The large man turned away from the duo and stalked off into the ground, shoulders tense. Lance flipped him the bird behind his back until Allura slapped his hand away. “I know you’re unhappy to be here. I’m not thrilled either. However, you must put on a good face. These people are those that could help decide Castle Records and subsequently your future. Go mingle, make friends. Get people on your side. And please for the love of God, try your best not to make too much of a scene.” With that, Allura slipped off into the crowd, most likely to go schmooze with the investors.

Lance grumbled something under his breath, shoving his hands deep in his pant pockets. If Keith was going to talk to him at any point tonight, now was it. Here goes nothing. Keith took a deep breath and came up to his side, a hand coming to gently touch Lance’s elbow.

Lance whipped around, elbow knocking Keith to the side. He watched in horror as the tray of tartlets soared through the air and landed a little way away, caviar and crème fresh splattering against the expensive carpet. Lance and Keith made horrified eye contact for a moment before Keith was striding over to the tray, whispering ‘shit’ under his breath the whole time. By some miracle, none of the guests noticed the UFO- Unintentional Flying Object. He knelt down and began throwing the food back onto the tray, wincing at every splatter of food on the carpet.

A pair of tan hands came into Keith’s field of vision but he didn’t have time to process this as he quickly worked to put them back on his plate. Thankfully, there weren’t that many of the plate and soon Keith was standing up and brushing off his knees with a single hand, keeping the tray carefully balanced. “Oh my god, I am so sorry Keith. You scared me.”

Oh yeah. The hands.

Lance McLain had gotten on the fucking floor to help pick up Keith’s mess and now he was apologizing? What kind of a guy…

“No, it’s all good. It’s my fault really. I shouldn’t have scared you.” There was no wavering in his voice. Nice.

Lance glanced down at the stains, stepping back slightly from a glob of crème fresh that had been dangerously close to his shoe. “God, you won’t get in too much trouble for this right?” Keith shrugged, genuinely unsure. If Zarkon found out it was him, then yes, hell would rain down on him but there was no need to tell Lance that.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Lance, it’s ok. Accidents happen,” and then Keith felt himself smile and wow. What an accomplishment. First, his voice wasn’t shaky and now he was smiling at Lance? Who was he? Who was he becoming?

“Can I do anything to help?” Lance looked so genuinely concerned, all hints of annoyance and boredom disappeared. There was a crease between his eyebrows and Keith wanted to reach up and smooth it away, but he didn’t because that would be weird. Keith rested a careful hand on his elbow, and some of the tension in Lance’s shoulders melted.

“I need to head back to the kitchen so, no, I guess not.”

Lance brightened up, taking the tray from him. “I’ll walk with you then.” Lance began to walk away, the opposite direction from where he needed to go.
“Wait. What?” Keith did a double take and suddenly Lance was gone. Damn those legs. Keith began to move throughout the people quickly, ducking behind the columns and artfully placed fake plants. Soon, he found Lance, that jacket loud against the simple grey and black suit jackets the other men wore. “Lance, stop!” Keith said a bit too loudly and a few people glanced his way. Keith ducked his head, cheeks burning and finally caught up with Lance.

Keith took his tray back, and Lance looked almost sad. “What are you doing?”

“I’m helping,” Lance said simply as if that was a sufficient answer. He made grabby hands for the tray again and Keith put a hand on his chest to stop him. Keith noticed a few curious glances their way and quickly dropped his hand and took a step back. He was probably imaging it but Lance’s face seemed to drop.
“I don’t need your help,” Keith stated, beginning to turn away and walk towards the doors. The dummy had started taking the long route to the kitchen but it would be too much effort to turn back around so Keith wove his way through tables. Soon enough though, he felt a familiar presence behind him.

“Damn, sorry for trying to be a good person,” Lance said, all bark no bite. His words were exasperated but when Keith stopped and turned to look at him, he saw the droop in his shoulders and downcast eyes. God, Keith was terrible. Lance really was trying to help.

Keith held the tray back out to him and Lance’s eyes lit up, taking it back instantly. “Thanks,” Keith muttered. “Lance, do you have any idea where you’re going?”
“Um… No.” He smiled sheepishly, hand running through his hair. Who allowed this boy to be so cute? Keith was going to fist fight someone because no one should be allowed to be this attractive.

Keith shook his head, small smile back on his face. “You’re an idiot. Follow me.” Keith began to walk away and he allowed his smile to grow.

“Hey! I’m not an idiot!” Lance caught up to him quickly, long legs matching Keith’s pace. He muttered apologies that Keith had stopped bothering with a long time ago.

“You started walking to a kitchen that you’ve never even seen before. That kinda makes you an idiot.” Keith sighed dramatically, casting a forlong look at Lance. “At least you’re pretty. You’re sure to get by somehow.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

Commence self-destruction. Five, four, three…

Why the fuck had he said that? He hadn’t meant for that to happen. Shit, fuck, god damn- “I- uh- No?”

“So, you don’t think I’m pretty?” Lance had a teasing smirk on and his arms were shoved deep in his pockets. The amused glint in his eye canceled Keith’s imminent spontaneous combustion and his narrowed.

“Fuck you,” Keith muttered but there was no heat behind the words. Somehow, he and Lance had entered the playful banter stage of friendship and it was…nice. Fun, even.

Lance chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. “Damn, busting out the big words.” He put his hands back in his pockets, and he fell into step with Keith once again. He bumped shoulders with Keith, “I think you’re pretty too Keith. So, how do you know where to go? And why are you dressed like an Olive Garden waiter?”
Lance called him pretty.

Him. Pretty.

For some reason, Lance thought he, Keith Kogane, was anything less than the gremlin he had always perceived himself to be.

Holy shit. This boy is going to be the death of me.

“I’m working the event,” Keith responded, pushing through the mental collapse currently happening. He cringed a little, waiting for Lance to scoff and shove the tray back into his hands, disgusted. Why would someone like him want to talk to someone like Keith anyway? It was like a prince talking to a lowly cheese merchant or something.

“Oh cool. Why?” There was no disgust or snotty attitude, just genuine curiosity. Keith felt his shoulders relax, the fear of Lance hating him leaving.

“Since I have the honor of being related to the Zarkon Galra, I get the fantastic opportunity of being pushed around by awful rich people a few times a month at glorified dinner parties,” Keith deadpanned, eyes narrowed.

Lance frowned, bumping Keith’s shoulder again. “That sucks dude. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “It is what it is, you know? It’s my life.”

“Yea, but like I said a while ago, you shouldn’t have to do things you don’t want to do.” Keith ducked behind the large stage that had been set up and Lance followed close behind him. At events like these, Zarkon liked to have some of the artists he employed perform so people could see what their money was going towards.

“And I appreciate the sentiment, it just isn’t realistic in my situation.” They pushed through the side doors, Lance holding the door open for him like the gentleman he was.

“And what is your situation?” Keith couldn’t help it, but he felt his walls go up. The only people that knew the true extent of his shitty life were Pidge, Shiro, and Matt and that’s only because they’d basically been there with him since the beginning of it. Keith hadn’t ever been close enough to anyone else to ever talk about it and he didn’t trust strangers with his story. The story left Keith vulnerable and his stupid crush left him more vulnerable around Lance than he’d care to admit.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” Lance said softly. God damn it. This would be so much easier if Lance was oblivious and let Keith exist with his walls. But that isn’t who Lance was, he was perceptive and personable and had an extreme ability apparently to read body language.
“It’s fine,” Keith whispered, “I just don’t talk about it a lot.”

Lance nodded, as if it made sense and maybe to Lance, it did. “I get it. I’m not gonna push you to tell me shit. We aren’t that close yet.”
And maybe it was unhealthy, but Keith could feel himself latch an extraordinary amount of hope onto that single word, ‘yet’. It felt like a promise of things to come.
Lance changed the conversation to something lighter, a documentary he had watched yesterday about dinosaurs. According to Lance, it was “one of the most interesting things he had ever seen.”

Keith listened to Lance ramble about velociraptors and triceratops while Grace put a bunch of shrimp palmier on his tray. Another server walked past him, a large stain blooming on the front of their shirt. It looked like champagne and Keith winced in sympathy; champagne stains were a bitch to get out.
Lance could apparently talk about extinct lizards forever because Keith was opening the side doors once again and Lance had moved just moved on to pterodactyls. “Keith, they’re vicious! It’s amazing!”

“I feel like I should be concerned that you’re so fascinated by murderous flying lizards,” Keith commented, pausing before entering the throng of people once more. He was going to have to tell Lance he couldn’t talk anymore; he had a job to do after all.

“Maybe you should be,” Lance wiggled his eyebrows and Keith rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. An easy silence fell over the two of them and Keith opened his mouth to say goodbye to Lance but Allura hurried over before he could get the words out.

“Where have you been?” Allura asked rapidly, hand gripping Lance’s elbow tightly.

“Damn Allura, lighten up. I’ve just been with my friend-“

“Keith Galra,” Allura muttered, scanning Keith up and down. He had to resist the urge to run away and forced himself to straighten his back and meet her gaze straight on. Apparently, this was the right move because Allura shifted her stare, looking more slightly impressed rather than accusatory.

“Kogane. My last name is Kogane,” he said firmly, biting back the annoyance he felt rise within him.

“But you’re related to Zarkon, aren’t you?”

Keith steeled his jaw. “I, unfortunately, have to call Zarkon my stepfather but that’s it. I am not related to him by anything more than my mother’s marriage.” Allura seemed to consider this, a suspecting look still in her eyes. She didn’t trust him and this made Keith angry for some reason. “I hate Zarkon just as much as either of you and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t loop me into his unfortunate gene pool.”

Allura put her hands on her hips, considered him with that intense gaze once again, then nodded. He could feel Lance exhale beside him and Keith took this to be a good thing. “It is nice to meet you Keith Kogane.” She looked at him for his approval and Keith nodded. She smiled slightly and Keith liked her a lot better when she smiled; he didn’t feel quite so small.

“Lance, you say he is your friend?” Lance flung an arm over his shoulder and nodded. His arm was warm and heavy against him and Keith had to resist the urge to sink into his side.

“Yea! Keith and I are friends.” Lance glanced over at him, asking him with his eyes if that was ok. Keith smiled and nodded. When he looked back to Allura, she had something akin to a knowing look on her face but Keith brushed it aside. It was nothing.

“Good. I want this friendship to continue. Make it known, go to public places. It’ll piss of Zarkon and right now, that’s the only thing I want.”

For the millionth time tonight, Keith felt thrown for a loop. At the beginning of the evening, Keith was sure Lance had forgotten him and now he was essentially being ordered to hang out with Lance? He wasn’t complaining, it just felt like he was experiencing some major whiplash.

“Alright, I’m down. As long as Keith is too.”

“Ye-Yeah. Sounds like fun.” Lance smiled warmly at his words and just like that, Keith’s unhealthy amount of hope was suddenly realized. This felt as close to fate as Keith was ever going to get.

“Fantastic. Now, Lance, we need to leave.”

“Wait. What?” Now it was Lance’s turn to be confused. “I’m just starting to have fun, why do we need to leave?”

Allura sighed impatiently, tugging on Lance’s elbow. He stepped out of her grasp, crossing his arms. “Damn it, Lance don’t be stubborn. You just need to trust me.”
“No, I want an explanation.” Keith felt as if he was intruding but couldn’t find it within himself to leave.

“I am only trying to keep you safe. Can you for once in your life do as you're told without question?” Allura looked frazzled and maybe Lance couldn’t see it, but Keith could tell that Allura was in genuine distress.

“Lance, I think you should listen to her. I don’t know what’s going on but it seems important,” Keith whispered to the boy beside him, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.

“I don’t care. I want her to tell me-“ Lance’s mouth snapped shut and his arms fell to his side. Keith could have sworn he heard Allura whisper “Fuck,” but he had no way to prove it. She and Keith turned to follow Lance’s eyesight and across the room stood Nyma Volkov, arm laced through someone who was most definitely not Lance’s arm.

Suddenly, Keith realized that Lance hadn’t shown up with Nyma that night. He hadn’t thought much about it because he tended to ignore Nyma in any photo he saw of the two of them together, but now he was realizing it was definitely strange. They went everywhere together and now Nyma was standing on the other side of the ballroom with a different man.

“Lance, I’m sorry,” Allura whispered but Lance didn’t seem to hear her. He pushed past her and she reached a hand out desperately to try and catch his sleeve, but those damn legs were too fast. “Damn it.”

“What’s going on?”

Allura’s sharp gaze flicked to him, surprise written across her face as if she had forgotten he was there. It was a typical expression he got so it didn’t sting as much as it used too. “Oh, Keith. My apologies.”

“Ms. Lowe, what’s happing? What’s going on with Lance and Nyma?”

“Do you care about Lance?” She was watching his face carefully, scrutinizing every detail. She asked the question as if the fate of the world hung in the balance.
Without any thought or hesitation, Keith could answer, “Yes.”

Allura nodded and took a deep breath, hands curling tight. “Well, you know Lance and Nyma dated for months,” Keith nodded. It was something he resented for all those months. “Four days ago, Lance calls me, crying. He needs me to come pick him up because Hunk is out of town until next week. I ask him what happened but he’s too much of a mess to answer. So, I go pick him up and he’s outside of this shady club,” Allura pauses, clearing her throat. Keith lets his eyes fall from Allura’s face to wander over the dance floor. Lance has made his way to the audio guy sitting beside the stage and is having what seems to be an intense conversation.
“I don’t know why he was outside of the club, he won’t tell me. All I do know is that Lance is sobbing in the passenger seat of my car and wailing about how Nyma broke his heart and how she’s a bitch,” Allura’s voice was pinched and Keith looked back to see an angry fire in her eyes. Keith could feel it building in him too, as he didn’t like the direction this story was going. “I get him to calm down slightly, enough to tell me what happened at least. He explains that he went to surprise Nyma only to find her in bed with a different guy.”

Keith can’t help his sharp intake of breath and he’s pretty sure the vein in his neck is popping out. Allura nods in agreement at his reaction. “Apparently, Nyma has cheated on Lance with that man over there,” Allura points a shaking finger to the asshole that Nyma’s hanging off. He’s tall and blonde and looks completely uninteresting. Lance is a thousand times more attractive than this fuckboy, all warm skin and dazzling smiles and personality rolling off him. Why would anyone cheat on Lance with this guy? Why would anyone cheat on Lance in general?

Apparently, he’s taken a step towards Nyma and the guy because suddenly a hand was on his shoulder. Allura’s holding him back, “Don’t. I promise you, I wanted to do the same thing but it is not my battle to fight and it is not yours; it’s Lance’s. Please do not let Lance’s charm and bravado fool you, he can fight his own battles which appears to be what he’s doing now.”

Lance has apparently won the argument because he’s climbing up on the stage. The ballroom is falling quiet, people taking notice of the unscheduled performer on stage. Allura sighed, “I had hoped to avoid causing a scene.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible with Lance,” Keith commented, hoping Allura wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

From the warm smile on her face, Keith’s in the clear. Allura nods, hands falling back to her hips. “You’re right. Lance himself is a scene.”

Feedback cuts through the ballroom, causing people to wince. Keith finds Zarkon in the crowd, and Keith bites his lip. His stepdad does not look happy. As if she can read his thoughts Allura says, “Don’t worry about Zarkon. He knows that if he does so much as breath in Lance’s direction with an ill-intent, I will not only kick his ass but sue him into next week.” She says this with such a calm demeanor, Keith is even more terrified of Allura.
“Don’t take this the wrong way Allura but, you’re completely terrifying.”

Allura laughs, a clear sound that soars above the low chatter. “How could I take that the wrong way? That is the goal after all.”

Keith decides then and there that if he should ever for some reason end up on this woman’s bad side, he’s changing his name and fleeing the country.
“Hi, everyone. My name is Lance McLain, though how could you not know?” Lance flashes a dazzling smile towards the crowd and Keith and Allura step closer to view the mess that was about to go down. Some people in the crowd laugh, though most are just confused. Keith finds Nyma’s face and it’s completely neutral except for the strain running through her jaw and neck. “I know I’m unscheduled to perform here but I figured that why not thank my gracious host,” Lance’s words dripped with sarcasm, “by singing something?”
Polite applause follows Lance’s words and Allura hums beside Keith. “What?”

Allura shrugs, “This must be the new project Lance was telling me about. He’s been holed up in his room for days and refused to tell me what he’s been working on. Apparently, it’s been one giant ‘fuck you’ to Nyma.” Keith smirks, nodding. Of course, Lance would sing a musical fuck you to the woman that broke his heart.

“Now this song is written for a very special person who just so happens to be in the room tonight. She knows who she is,” Lance sends a wink out into the crowd and Keith’s worried Nyma’s going to break the champagne glass in her hand. Lance sends a nod to the audio guy and wraps his hands around the microphone.
Short guitar strums echo throughout the ballroom, hidden speakers playing the song’s intro. A quiet, “You gotta love someone,” whispers over the guitar and then Lance is singing.

I don't know what you've been told
Or what they say about me
I never give up or give it a rest
I ain't got time to worry about a mess
And I'm kinda getting tired of dealing with all of your stress

A smirk is pulling slowly at Allura’s face and Keith can feel a similar look on his own face. Lance’s voice is sure and confident, no hint of the heavy emotion that Keith knew went into writing this song. Much like his voice, Lance stands with his shoulders pulled back, head high, eyes scanning the crowd with a smug grin and the occasional wink. As if he can feel Keith watching him, Lance sends one of those winks Keith’s way and Keith somehow doesn’t die on the spot.

I'm starting to think you have no heart, yeah
You don't even have a soul
You always give in or you try too late
All I do is give and all you do is take
I'm tired of protecting you from what you need to know

Nyma turns to leave but the group of investors has gathered tightly against the stage so any chance of escape is gone. Everyone seems enthralled by Lance’s voice while some seemed angry about this. Zarkon was seething, lurking in the shadows of one of the columns. He was pissed as hell that this kid he was trying to poach was now taking over his event. Keith crossed his arms and felt Lance’s ‘fuck you’ become his as well.

Lance had taken the microphone out of the stand and was now pacing the stage, the musical buildup evidently leading to the chorus. Lance was jamming, clearly in love with the music he’d written. He’d side step here, throw a hand up there, his normal dance moves subdued. This stage and the music wasn’t meant to accommodate full Lance McLain performance mode.

Ever since the day that I met you
I knew you weren't the one
But nothing ever stops me from forgetting
Packing all my shit and moving on
Lance hadn’t moved on completely but he was going to. The chorus was a promise to Nyma and all the other cheaters in the world: I may not be over you right now but you bet your ass I’m going to find something better.
I'm not sure I'd even go
'Cause I made your house my home
It's come to an end
I hate how it's been
Lights are getting dim
And the walls are caving in
And it's time for this king to go and run another throne
When I give it up, I give it all
I went and made you my life
And don't you dare say I don't care
When I need you most, you know you're never there
Be a cold day in hell before I'd ever be your man (that's right)

The younger people in the crowd were clearly getting into the spirit of the song, nodding along to beat and attempting to sing the lyrics. Even some of the more conservative older investors were tapping their fingers against their champagne flutes in time to the music. Allura had a wide grin now, bobbing her head to the music. “I hate that he kept this from me, but I’m also very glad I got to hear this song in the context it was meant for,” Allura said, voice louder than normal over the music. Keith nodded, barely hearing her words. Lance was in his element now, and it was beautiful to watch.

The chorus repeated and soon Lance was playing air guitar to the final strums of the guitar. As he bowed, there was ecstatic applause with some polite claps thrown in. Keith couldn’t help himself and let out a wolf whistle; Lance looked over at the sound and his face split into a giant grin. Lance laughed, hopped off the stage, and hauled ass out of the ballroom.

Keith stared after him in confusion. He was about to ask Allura where Lance was going before he felt the tray being taken out of his hands for the second time that night. “Go after him.”

“What?”

Allura gave him an unimpressed look. “I have to stay here and clean up the mess Lance has made of the evening. I need his friend to go ensure that he is alright.” She arched an eyebrow at Keith and he found himself nodding quickly.

“Right yea. That’s me. Lance’s friend. I’m gonna go after him.” Allura hummed but had a small smile on her face. Then she set the tray down on the ground by the wall so it was safely out of the way, and then strutted into the crowd of investors that suddenly realized what had just happened like she owned it. And she did, her accent ringing out above the swell of confused and pissed off conversation.

Keith let himself stare a moment later before he took off after Lance, bursting through the obnoxious doors with a large grin on his face. No one noticed Keith leave and for once in his life, he truly didn’t give a damn.

Chapter Text

Lance fell forward, grabbing onto the railing as heaving sobs shook his body. Somehow, he had found this balcony deep in the heart of the hotel. He hadn’t been able to see where he was running really, the tears forming in his eyes the moment he stepped foot out of that ballroom. They had splattered against the tasteful carpet as he tore past annoyed guests and confused maids. All of them watched him go without a second thought.

It was dark outside and barely any stars twinkled overhead. Cold stone pressed through Lance’s pants and he couldn’t bring himself to care about the dust that was definitely coating his knees. He rested his head against the railing, the coolness a relief against his burning skin. Every time Lance did something reckless or terrifying, his skin burned like a thousand suns, as if all his nerves were firing all cylinders and that energy had nowhere to go but out.

What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t been thinking and now look where he was. Crying on a balcony in some strange hotel with the only person who actually gave a damn about him trapped in a ballroom fending off the sharks that were probably out for blood after that mess of a performance.
Why. Why do you have to go and screw everything up?

That seemed to be Lance’s specialty- screwing things up. First Nyma, now this night. Allura had told him not to cause a scene and what does he do? Cause a fucking scene.

Something about seeing Nyma really sent him over the edge. It was as if there was this mental rage dam that had burst the moment he saw her. Damn, she looked good tonight. Skin tight satin with diamonds clinging to her throat and emeralds dripping from her ears. The dark green stood out against her skin, making her look like a beacon of beauty among everyone else. On any other night, Lance wouldn’t have been able to keep his eyes from her and his hands off her.
But tonight, there was Keith. Keith had unintentionally kept him distracted from the shit show that would have been tonight had Lance and Nyma had had a real conversation. If only that welcome distraction could have held out a little longer.

He should never have sung that song but before he could think rationally, he was convincing the poor kid working the audio to play his track and was hopping upon that stage.

The one thing that made it all worth it though, was the look on her face. She was pissed. Lance could see it in the whiteness of her knuckles around her champagne flute, the terse set of her jaw. Nyma wasn’t one to be very external about her emotions but be around her long enough and you pick up the subtle signs. The narrowed eyes and a slight rash on her throat were enough to tell Lance that his music was having the intended effect. It was getting under her skin and making her feel the exact same things she made Lance feel.

He had never meant for that song to be publicly listened to; at least, not yet. Maybe in a couple years, he would have thrown it Allura’s way and after she had pressed hard enough, Lance would have revealed the tragic backstory behind the song. She would love it and it would be either the title track of the album or just thrown in the album. But no, here he was revealing this song before it, and he was ready.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot,” Lance whispered, the tears burning in the back of his eyes. No, he wasn’t going to cry over this fucking girl or his fucking mistakes. Not again. Or at least, not right now.

“You know, I’ve seen a lot of idiots in my time, most of them being you. But right now, you’re the least idiotic person I’ve seen.” Lance whipped his head around, a single tear falling from his eye. Leaning against the doorway, looking oh so handsome, was Keith. Of course, it was Keith. He had a slight glow around him, the warm light of the hotel hallway bright in the dark night. Two lamps that had been attached by the doors had clicked on, their own light making Keith’s eyes look almost violet.

Lance rolled his eyes, muttering a “thanks, Keith.” But there was no hostility in it; there never was. Maybe there had been at first when Keith’s own brand of stoic charm and good looks hadn’t overpowered his stubbornness and hot-headed nature. Lance and Keith had been at each other’s throats when Lance first started hanging around Voltron but, that tension and anger slowly faded to good-natured teasing and bickering.

Keith gestured to the ground beside Lance, “Can I sit?” Lance nodded and Keith sunk to the floor, a low groan that shouldn’t have sounded the way it did, escaping his lips as he stretched out his legs. “Fuck me, my feet hurt.” Keith leaned a head back on the railing, eyes closed and neck exposed. Lance stared at his neck, the definition of it and the tense muscles. There was a vulnerability in the position; it was something Lance had hardly ever seen before.
Even when Keith was calm and quiet, he hardly ever looked at peace. There was always a stress on his shoulders or an angry gleam in his eyes about something. This boy was always angry about something; not that he was unjustified. Keith had had a fucked-up life and whenever Lance thought he had problems, Keith’s shitty stepfamily and dead mom would drift into the back of his mind and then everything seemed so insignificant.

Lance had never seen Keith so vulnerable before and the image was cemented into his brain; the stars through the balcony’s railing and overhead, the soft drop of Keith’s mouth and his dark hair gleaming softly with second-hand light. Keith looked beautiful.

“You’re being creepy,” Keith whispered, not killing the mood but shifting it. That hesitant and shy way that Lance approached any feelings that were deeper and more genuine than the shallow flirting he was known for morphed into the familiar and comfortable vibe that always seemed to follow Lance and Keith.

A deep red blush flushed in his cheeks, “I-I am not! You’re being creepy!” Lance protested.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Keith chuckled, opening his eyes and letting them fall to Lance. His breath caught in his throat, that lazy gaze making butterflies flutter in his stomach. Those damn butterflies had been swarming for weeks and for weeks, Lance hated them and himself. These new feelings had made Lance feel like a cheater and an asshat while he was still with Nyma but looking back on it, he couldn’t help but think that these feelings were a sign, maybe his subconscious knew that Nyma was cheating on him and was trying to be petty and get back at Nyma. Maybe it was something more and that he was already moving on from her, readying himself for the inevitable fall. Lance’s subconscious seemed to be good at that, prepping him for the heartbreak.

“You don’t make any sense!” Wow, Lance was really killing it with these comebacks today. Keith rolled his eyes, sitting up against the balcony and taking a deep breath. It came out in a shaky exhale and Lance’s concern was suddenly piqued. “Are you okay?” Lance frowned, wanting to put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, his bicep, somewhere but he held back. Is that where they were in their relationship? Lance didn’t know and was most definitely not going to ask.
“Are you?” With a quirk in his eyebrow, Lance knew exactly what Keith was acting about and Keith knew Lance knew so there was no way Lance was getting out of this conversation. So, accepting defeat, Lance let out a dramatic groan and flung himself back against the stone railing. Keith shifted to fully face Lance, arms crossed and an expectant look on his face. Lance ran a hand over his face and when he peeped through his fingers, Keith’s face had morphed into one of concern. Maybe Lance was imagining it, but he could have sworn that Keith made a move to reach out a hand to comfort Lance.

Nah, it was probably just his imagination.

Lance wanted to say he was okay. That was his go to, “I’m fine! Don’t worry about me!” But he wasn’t okay and he wanted someone to worry about him. Did he want that person to care? Lance couldn’t say but he needed someone to care. So, Lance was truthful and he said, “No.” And there was a weight that came off Lance’s shoulders that he didn’t know was there.

“What happened?’ Keith said, voice hesitant, an emotion Lance didn’t know Keith was capable of feeling. It seemed like everything Keith did, he did by throwing himself headfirst into without thinking through the consequences. One time, Lance had been hanging around Voltron during his forced exile and a mom and her son came into the store, the boy holding a violin case. Normally, Lance would duck and cover to try and avoid being seen but he had been distracted- if that was by that one indent that could have been a dimple in Keith’s smile then that didn’t really matter did it- and hadn’t been able to jump behind the counter.
The little boy regarded him indifferently, young enough to not have been exposed to Lance’s YouTube videos. The mom, however, gasped, hands flapping wildly. Lance would have laughed at the poor bird imitation this lady was doing had those hands not found themselves on her phone. Anxiety flared up in Lance, photos were never good. Photos were so out of context and would bring up a lot of unwanted attention to Lance and to the workers of Voltron. These people had been kind enough to let him hide out here and he wasn’t going to be the reason Voltron was constantly swarmed by the press.

“Ma’am, I need you to keep that phone in your pocket.” Keith had stepped in front of her, arms crossed. Lance saw her face shift: confusion then disapproval. There was a stubborn line of her lips

“Excuse me? I was just pulling out my phone. Who do you think you are?” She scoffed as if Keith asking her to keep her phone in her pocket was the most offensive thing that had ever been said to her. Keith’s eye roll did nothing to calm the expression on her face that was slowly growing more and angrier.

Next, to her, her son looked mortified. “Mom, stop,” the boy pleaded, hiding his face behind his violin case. Shiro stepped forward, prepped to intervene should Keith or the mother get out of hand.

“I know that you were about to take a picture of Lance here and I really suggest that you don’t. Take that picture and I won’t be responsible for the new phone you’ll need to buy.” The woman’s mouth dropped open, her face burning with a furious flush.

“How dare you! I am paying you! I want to speak to your manager!” Ah, the classic soccer mom line. She even had the haircut to match the obnoxious phrase. This seemed to be Shiro’s cue as he stepped between Keith and the mom. Florona appeared almost out of thin air and bent down to talk to the son. With an acknowledging nod to Shiro, the pair disappeared to the practices room tucked away in the back of the store.

Not so subtly, Shiro pushed Keith away and begrudgingly, Keith took the hint and moved to lean against the counter beside Lance. “Thanks,” Lance whispered, not trying to draw attention to themselves while Shiro calmed the woman down. Keith let out a dramatic sigh, sinking lower against the counter.
“Why don’t people fucking ask before they take pictures of you? Of famous people in general? Not everyone wants to be photographed all the time,” Keith spit, a low fury in his words. Sighing himself now, Lance hopped up on the counter and knocked his shoulder into Keith’s.

Keith looked up at him and Lance shrugged, “A lot of people think that being famous or even moderately famous means that you should always be ready to be photographed. They’re not wrong. Paparazzi are everywhere. And normally, I don’t mind taking photos with people, I just don’t want it to get posted somewhere and suddenly have Voltron stormed. You guys have done so much for me, let me stay here, and I don’t want to repay that by having cameras shoved in your faces.” Lance remembered being so scared and startled when he had caught paparazzi taking pictures of him; he had been so scared and confused and he almost had a panic attack in a Chipotle bathroom from the anxiety of it all. The thought of being constantly followed everywhere he went had sent Lance’s paranoia and self-doubt over the edge. He wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.

“It’s cool that you care but don’t worry about us. We knew what we were getting into when we let you come back. It may not look like it but we can take care of ourselves.” Keith muttered, investigating the back of a pack of guitar strings that had been abandoned by a customer. Looking at him, Lance knew that Keith could take care of himself with his well-toned biceps and back muscles that were visible through the thin material of Keith’s black shirt. It probably wouldn’t have taken very much for Keith to rip Lance in two.

“Yea… I know.” And then Keith looked up at him from the guitar strings with a small soft smile on his face and Lance knew he was fucked.

Or maybe he knew he was fucked when Lance was very aware of every tight muscle in Keith’s chest pressing into his back when the man had adjusted Lance’s finger positions on a guitar. The flat planes of his stomach and the indents in his abs seemed to burn lines into Lance’s back, the feeling lingering for a while after Keith had been called away by Shiro to help with moving some boxes.

Ok, Lance wasn’t completely fucked. He still thought Keith was an asshole and wanted to punch him in his dumb face multiple times a day but Lance had had the unfortunate realization that complete fuckery was something probably in his near future. Most of the time, whenever Lance would have feelings for someone, these feelings would scare him. He flirted so much, sometimes he forgot what it was like to actually feel something deeper than surface level attraction. But with Keith, this felt… right almost. Like he was meant to feel these things, it had just taken some time for his brain to catch up with his heart.

“Lance?” It was a quiet word but just loud enough to break him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“Sor- Okay.” Keith knocked Lance’s shoulder with his own, so like the way Lance had done.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Keith prompted. He would never have said it, but Lance knew Keith would never have forced him to talk about his problems. Keith himself hated having things pressed so why would he force it on other people? But the sincere look in his dark eyes had Lance spilling the whole story.

“It was our four-month anniversary, which I know isn’t really a big deal, but it means a lot to me. Most people drop me by month three so getting to four months was major.”

“Which is ridiculous. I’d be lucky to even get a month,” Keith muttered so quietly Lance wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear. But he did hear and those butterflies fluttered up a storm in his stomach. Lance cleared his throat briefly before continuing.

“I had been over enough that the landlord knew who I was and that I wasn’t going to do anything sketchy in Nyma’s apartment so, he let me borrow a key to set up a surprise. It was hella romantic too, with candles and rose petals and a meal I most definitely had Hunk cook for me. There were mood lighting and some sappy playlist I had made on Spotify playing in the background.” Lance focused straight ahead on the beige wallpaper of the hotel walls that he could see through the open balcony doors. He felt the heat of Keith’s stare on him but refused to look into those eyes because if he did, he knew he’d break down. There would just be so much emotion that it would overload Lance’s system.

“That night, Nyma had told me she was going to get in at like 9 which was a little weird because she normally gets in later than that but, I didn’t question it. Apparently. she needed some “relaxation time.” So, I had set everything up at like 8:15 and was just kind of waiting for her.” Keith scoffed, shaking his head.

“What?’

He rolled his eyes, “Isn’t her entire life relaxing? She has money because she’s made a bunch of friends, looks good, and goes to a fuck ton of parties. What exactly does she have to relax from?’

Part of Lance wanted to defend Nyma, to advocate for her and explain the complexity of what she does and how she constantly has to be on her toes and watch who she talks to and what she does. He wanted to talk about her photo shoots and commercials and that her job is more than going to a “fuck ton of parties.” But, Lance had no reason to defend her so he let Keith’s comments roll off his back and shrugged.

“So, at almost exactly 9, Nyma’s door handle starts rattling and I’m kind of on edge because why is Nyma flailing around with her own doorknob? But then the door is finally swinging open and there’s Nyma, attached at the mouth to the guy she was here with tonight. This tall, blonde, generic white boy asshole that has no regard for the fact that she was in a fucking relationship!” Lance shouted up to the sky, fists shaking angrily.

“She’s a bitch,” Keith stated, simple and to the point.

“Yea. She is.” Lance agreed, still glaring up at the stars as if they were the ones to blame for his girlfriend cheating on him.

“Does Nyma get jealous easily?” The question startled Lance, it came so out of the blue. Lance considered for a moment.

“Um, I guess so yea.”

“Cool. I have an idea.”

How he got here, Lance really didn’t know. What he did know for a fact was that Lance was being dragged onto a dance floor by a very cute boy with almost violet eyes and a terrible haircut. Lance could see the anxious energy coursing through Keith in the way his hands shook. What betrayed his anxious trembling was the smirk pulling at his lips and the excited look in his eyes. “What are we doing? This is crazy! Zarkon is going to be pissed!”

“That’s a good thing!” Keith grinned, pulling Lance closer when a sweeping tango melody started up. It sounded familiar though Lance couldn’t remember if it was from a movie or was just the stock photo equivalent of rich people party music. Lance could appreciate good music though and this beat seemed to rumble under the floorboards, ensnaring Lance’s feet in its rhythm.

When they had reentered the ballroom, they were greeted with gasps and flurries of new conversations. Keith had walked in first, head ducked low to avoid attention. It seemed to be a natural state of being for him: tucked out of the way, invisible, and constantly angry. Then Lance stepped forward and it felt as if he was shedding an old skin; he was leaving behind the petty feelings for the moment and the fear over that song. In a bold act of confidence, Lance reached out and gripped Keith’s hand. The other man jumped, but once he saw it was Lance, the startled look melted from his face.

Out of the corner of Lance’s eye, he saw Lotor and Sendak drifting around the edges of the ballroom with a cold glare on Lotor’s face and a seething look on Sendak’s. Keith followed Lance’s eyesight and his jaw tensed. Keith stared at his stepbrothers for a moment longer, then he looked back to Lance. A slight tension remained in Keith’s face but Keith looked like he had a scheme brewing in his mind. “What are you planning mullet?”
Keith scoffed, “Mullet?” Lance grinned, reaching back and tugging at the hair resting on the nape of Keith’s neck.

“It’s not a mullet, asshole.” But a shy smile had bloomed on Keith’s face and Lance had never seen anything softer. “But, I do have an idea that will survive no purpose other than to piss of my stepbrothers and hopefully Nyma.”

“I’m in.”

“You don’t even know what It is.”

“Doesn’t matter. I am 100% in. Now, what’s going on in that brain of yours?”

And so, Lance found himself on an almost completely empty dance floor with a cute waiter/musician/music shop employee who had somehow turned the shittiest night of Lance’s life into a really great one. He was hesitant to say it was one of the best but the way things were going right now, this night could easily gain that label.

The beat had kicked in and Keith asked Lance, “You know how to dance right?” He had situated a hand on Lance’s hip, unaware of the pleasant heat that was racing up and down Lance’s side.

Lance scoffed, “Do I know how to dance?” In a quick motion, Lance moved Keith’s hand to rest on Lance’s shoulder with his own hand on Keith’s waist. The warmth moved with his hand so the left side of Lance’s body was radiating with a welcome heat. Lance leaned in close, lips right next to Keith’s ear, and whispered, “Do you?”

It must have been his imagination again, conjuring up the shiver that ran down Keith’s body. “Try me,” Keith whispered back, voice matching Lance’s in volume, tone, and untold promises.

The two men took up positions, hands clasped and slightly extended. A common misconception about the tango is that it had to be sexual. If women weren’t clad in revealing, skin-tight red dresses with shakable skirts and men weren’t in black pants and suspenders, was it really tango? Yes. Yes, it was. Like every other dance style, Tango could encompass all sorts of emotions, albeit the most common one was lust or love. Tango had been stereotyped for too long and Lance wouldn’t stand for it.

However, in his and Keith’s case, he was perfectly okay with the stereotype and it appeared that Keith was too. As the violins swelled and dipped, Keith and Lance maintained eye contact, a deep simmering feeling growing between them. They fought for control, who would lead who, and for a moment Lance would win out, dipping Keith back with a childish smirk on his face. Other times, Keith would dominate, forcing Lance’s leg flipping up and over Keith’s back. There was a dance for control within this tango, dance-ception. Both dances felt forbidden though, the heat radiating between them making their twisting feet and closeness seem sinful.

As Keith spun away, Lance saw the shine of Keith’s face, a single drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face. Heavy breaths rose and fell in his chest and Lance found himself syncing his breathing. Slowly, Keith stalked toward him, a predatory glint in those stunning eyes. Lance took the opportunity to shed his suit jacket, the expensive material landing in a crumpled heap. Vaguely, Lance heard a gasp and saw someone rush to pick up the jacket. Whether they were excited about it being Lance’s jacket or were offended over the hastily tossed expensive silk, Lance couldn’t tell you- he was much too focused on the man in front of him.

A pale hand wrapped up and over Lance’s shoulder, fingers dragging across his chest. Goosebumps sprung up their wake, and Lance grabbed the hand, tugging its owner into him. The flush on Keith’s cheek added a new dimension to the beauty of his face and it threw Lance off enough to allow Keith to regain control, moving them around the floor.

Later, the boys would reminisce on this moment and realize that the few couples that had been casually waltzing on the floor had left, leaving the two boys in complete control of the floor. But right now, the only thing the two men noticed was the staccato beat of the music and each other. They had created their own little world in one another’s eyes, the music a distant background to the story playing out between them. It was a story of feelings unspoken, a brewing love that was forbidden by those in power and praised by those below them.

Each chapter unfolded as Lance whirled Keith around with tiny steps, their feet moving together in unspoken choreography. Page by page, Keith would dip Lance back, their chests not quite pressed together. Dialogue would flow between them through quirked eyebrows and amused smiles. Lingering hands and longing looks were the metaphors and similes hinting and the inevitable romance.

And as the climax of the novel approached, with the music building to signal its approach, right when the characters were supposed to run to one another and fight off their demons together and share a passionate kiss, Keith tugged Lance in. For one moment that seemed to last an eternity, Lance truly saw Keith since their tango began. Breathless, chest heaving, and a small smile on his face. In a different way from the balcony, Keith looked open and vulnerable. However, this was his choice. Lance felt as is Keith was handing himself to Lance and Lance greedily latched on with both hands.

So, Lance took Keith’s face in both hands. Keith’s breath caught and this time Lance was sure he hadn’t imagined it. Soft skin masked the sharp planes of Keith’s face and not for the first time, Lance cursed Keith and his impeccable skin that had never seen a face mask in its entire life. Keith closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in. Finally, Lance hadn’t withheld from his urges. His need to touch was satisfied and Keith seemed to be okay with it, leaning his head into Lance’s hands. When he exhaled though, the rest of the world seemed to rush in, their silent bubble bursting with the sound of fading instruments and frantic clapping.
Keith’s eyes popped open and Lance resisted the immediate urge to step back. Keith though didn’t seem to have the same resolve for he stepped far enough back to let Lance’s hands fall from his face, but not far enough to completely break the spell that had descended over them. “Where did you learn to dance?” Lance asked, voice quiet. He didn’t know if he could speak any louder, the weight of the dance heavy in his chest.

“Matt was really into it in college and made us all go to classes with him. He, Shiro, and Pidge dropped after the first class but, I kind of loved it so I kept going on the down low.”

“Yea, I feel like Matt would never be able to let you live it down if he knew you still went.” Keith snorted, shaking his head.

“You’re not wrong,” Keith said with another fond smile and Lance could have died right there and then. Before tonight, he had only been willing to admit that Lance felt something for Keith that was deeper than friendship in the dead of night when Nyma was either out partying or fast asleep next to him. But right here, at this moment, Lance couldn’t deny it. Keith Kogane was a very cute asshole and Lance really wanted to take him out. Hey, Allura did say they had to spend time, together right? Why not do it in a romantic way?

So that’s why Lance found himself holding a hand out to Keith and saying, “Hey, want to get out of here?”

And in those few moments where Keith stared at Lance’s head like it had turned purple and furry, Lance began to doubt everything. Of course, Keith didn’t want to get out of here. He was working. He didn’t like Lance like that. He was the only person that had ever treated Lance like an actual person and that must have been for a reason. Keith couldn’t stand Lance. And as the anxiety started to make his heart speed up and his breathing shallow, Keith dropped a hand into Lance’s and uttered two words that made Lance’s heart soar.

“Fuck yeah.”

Chapter Text

Hey everyone... It's been a really long time. I started this back in 2017?? And it's now 2020. I'm a sophomore in college and haven't watched voltron in a really long time. But these characters are still deep in my heart and the urge to write has been stronger than ever. I've gotten a couple kudos and comments on this fic recently which is mind-boggling just because it's been so long. But, they've lit a fire under me. I think I'm going to go back and do some mass rewriting and replanning of this fic. Thank you to everyone who has ever commented or left kudos. They've all inspired me and kept me motivated. My apologies for any potential disappointment that upping this chapter count from 7 to 8 with a simple author update will bring, but hopefully, it'll end up being a good thing. If anyone would ever wanna beta read or just chat, my tumblr is haoranghae (it's my kpop blog but the only one I use) so feel free to message me. Thank you again to everyone who has ever supported this fic and hopefully, I'll see you all again real soon.