Chapter Text
Keith is muttering to himself, quiet enough so that nearby people cannot hear but anyone within earshot may be able to make out the low grumbling. In this case, it’s Shiro who is leaning most of his body against the dark wood counter, his brows lift in what may seem to be confusion, but deep down it's worry. His eyes follow Keith’s sluggish movements as he slowly but surely drags a damp rag across the surface of said counter, the angry sounds still emitting from his half closed half opened mouth. Shiro watches Keith work a little longer, his heart going out to his little brother but not really sure what could have troubled him so early in the morning. He knew that Keith had been up all night. He could hear him through the walls, considering how thin they were in their apartment building; and although he wasn’t entirely sure then what had kept Keith up, he could now tell from the faded blue smears staining Keith’s pale arms that he had been painting.
Shiro shifts his weight from one foot to another, car keys still dangling from his right hand. He isn't sure what he was waiting for, but he doesn't feel right just leaving Keith to work in this...state. In fact, he was even hesitant to drive Keith to work in the first place. That morning Keith had slept in and was woken only by the soft knocks from Shiro and a calm reminder through the door that ‘if he doesn’t get up, he will miss his shift at the Java Lion’. After a few minutes of silence, Shiro considered turning around to leave his brother, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind the door had swung open to reveal a very tired and grumpy Keith.
“Morning little bro!” Was Shiro’s bright greeting, which Keith had responded with a shrug as he turned to go further into the apartment, leaving the door open for him. The room was dark as hell and Shiro had to squint to even find where Keith had trudged off to, (which happened to be back to his bed.) He watched Keith crawl under his comforter once more, his dark and messy hair covering his face as soon as he laid down. Shiro sighed, looking around for Keith’s phone to send a text to his boss as his brother, claiming to have caught something so he’d have to stay out.
“I’ll just...text your boss,” He muttered more to himself than to Keith, who he was sure had fallen back to sleep. He tried his best to find the small device in the sheer darkness but he just couldn't, turning to a small lamp for help. Apparently that was more than enough encouragement for Keith to wake because he was immediately groaning and cursing at Shiro to ‘turn the sun off’.
That’s when Shiro sighed, turning on the real lights and receiving several more insults for the rude awakening, but at this point he no longer cared. He managed to get Keith up and showered within the next fifteen minutes, which surprisingly was much harder to do than when Keith was a groaning and angsty teenager.
Shiro almost feels bad for Keith as he forces himself to stay awake enough so that he won't get fired for sleeping on the job. Not that Keith’s boss is a hardass or anything like that. Not at all. She’s far from that.
“Keith?” As if on cue, Shiro straightens. His back tenses a bit as the woman belonging to the voice emerges from the backroom, tying an apron around her waist. Her hands worked quickly and soon she is looking up to face a very tense man with flushed facial features as she nears him. She almost recognizes him before he looks down quickly to whisper to the boy behind the counter who she is almost entirely sure is Keith from the dark long hair. The boy lifts his head, slowly nodding at the man before he turns to leave, which Allura quirks her brow at before refocusing on Keith, who is slouching. His hair is down and he’s not in uniform. It takes her a moment to remember that it is six thirty in the morning and that not everyone is as comfortable with getting up this early as she is. That especially goes for Keith, who at any normal time of the day is a great employee. Always greeting customers with a smile and charming welcome, usually making a silly comment and making them laugh. Which, to Allura, is always a cheerful surprise considering how Keith seems like such a lonesome guy despite his one short friend with the brightest orange hair she’d ever seen.
Allura finishes tying her long white curls up into a bun. Despite all the hair, she has managed to keep it quite neat. Then she’s placing a hand on the back of Keith’s shoulder, who startles a bit at the touch. By now she was used to the dark mood he’d always enter with on early shifts. How he’d brood and move slowly if the shop wasn’t too busy, but he is surprisingly always very aware of his surroundings, so it shocks her when he jumps. Her thin brows knit together and her mouth forms a frown. She almost looks like a mother, but she is far too young for that!
Well, at least she thinks so.
“Keith?” She tries again, this time digging in her apron pocket for a spare hair band. She fishes a red one out that happens to have a small plastic kitten on it, but anything will do. Allura places it down on the counter, pursing her lips before deciding to take Keith’s hair into her own hands, literally. He says nothing when she combs through his only slightly-matted hair ( from not brushing after showering) and carefully pulls it all into a tiny ponytail at the back of his head, adjusting the band so the plastic kitty is smiling back at her.
The shop is still fairly empty, save for the usual morning crew who quietly ordered their breakfast brew and sat down with a newspaper or a laptop, so Allura doesn’t mind Keith being so out of it. She steps away, curious if Keith has actually fallen asleep, but decides she’d rather not know, reprimanding Keith was never an option for her unless absolutely necessary. Instead she turns quick on her heel to go prepare his usual black coffee, no cream and no sugar. He is without a doubt a strange boy, but Allura has grown fond of him. It did not matter how quiet he could get, especially since he worked so well.
Keith is resting his head on his elbow, palm pressing against his cheek when Allura approaches him again; happy to see that he has finally risen. She smiles upon noticing that he is in uniform, a black hoodie had covered it before but now it was draped on a stool beside him. She is also very pleased to see that he hadn’t taken the hair band out. Once the the freshly made coffee in front of him, Keith finally looks up, returning the gesture with a shy smile and Allura’s heart melts a little when it’s interrupted by a large yawn. A blush creeps up his neck, tinging the tips of his ears a shade of pink, but Allura just smiles and waves it off.
The silence doesn’t last for long, as Allura pulls up an empty stool besides Keith, the backdoor opens with a tiny jingle. They both turn a little to see Coran, humming along to whatever’s playing through his headphones as he closes the door with his foot. As soon as he’s in the shop he meets their eyes with a bright cheeriness in his own, swiping off his headphones as he grins at them both, although it falters a bit when he notices the bags under Keith’s dark blue violet eyes.
Despite his worry for Keith, who over time he has adopted as his own son, he greets them both, placing his bags somewhere near their work lockers, “Good morning sleepyheads!”
“Good morning to you as well,” Allura is up again, smiling wide at her close friend who is offering her a tiny baggy which no doubt has chocolates inside from his mom. Coran’s mother had been visiting and whenever she stopped by, she made chocolate. Keith had never been a big fan of chocolate but Coran’s mother’s was an exception.
“So, I see our young boy has yet to rise from the dead.” Coran quirks a brow at Allura, swirling the ends of his impressive mustache. Allura turns to Keith who is now messing with a string dangling off his signature black leather gloves that she refuses to fight him on. Some things should just be left alone, even if they do slightly worry customers.
She shrugs, “His caretaker came by to drop him off again, but he was much worse than this.” Allura fiddles with the paper bag that is now in her hands before placing it on the counter and leaning over to Keith, still preoccupied with his glove. “Speaking of which, you’re never this quiet in the morning, usually you say hello when Coran walks in.” At the mention of the name, Keith’s head shoots up, apology written all over his face. Coran waves his hand at dismissively, smiling in his direction.
“Sorry..I just..I have been a little-”
“You look like you’ve missed out on a few kilocycles of sleep hm?” Keith doesn’t understand the time tool Coran is referencing, but nods anyway because it’s sounds about right. “Well then, we better get you bright eyed and bushy tailed, huh?” Allura gives him a confused look before he gestures to Keith, “New semester starts today at Altea university. Our boy Keith is in his second year!”
“Ah how the time flies,” Allura smiles admirably at Keith who quietly sips his coffee as his eyes dart between the two of them. Keith had been working at the Java Lion for about two and a half years, and over that time he had found a home within these walls. He loved the quiet atmosphere, the warm browns and maroons that matched the wall paints to the chairs and the tables. The dark wood toned the place, grounding it and keeping him and everyone else inside from floating up into the sky. There was always some indie music playing on the stereo or live on the little stage area and if not it was either poetry or mic night, which Keith thoroughly enjoyed. He had never been a fan of big sugary coffee brands, the Java Lion was the first place he had ever found real solace in besides his art studio all the way back home. It was right off campus and although students from Altea did visit often, the faces blurred by as they ordered and went on their way. Some stayed to study, some to sit and enjoy the atmosphere, and others went on with their lives, coffee and possibly a donut or cupcake in hand.
“Well before I forget,” Allura smiles, bending over to wrap her arms around Keith in a warm but short embrace, “Good luck, Keith.” Her smile is so genuine and kind that it causes his heart to squeeze and the tips of his ears to go pink once again. Allura, his boss, was the closest thing he has to an older sister and he’s so grateful for her. She always looks out for him, a generous smile on her face as if she would do anything if he truly needed it. Yet, all he truly needs is to be able to sit as long as he wants in the shop without being told to go home to his lonely apartment. Granted his brother lived next door, but sometimes that was the worst part about it.
After a bit of the grogginess wears off, the three are in their natural routine: Coran is in the back baking, Allura is adding flavors to the Lion’s Brew board and Keith is recording down the money in the register before smiling up at his first customer of the day. He’s happy to admit that it's not a forced smile, he genuinely enjoys working here and usually the smile helps him score tips in the jar, if even just the leftover change from their purchase. He’s been saving up for a new paint kit so every penny counts.
The first to order is a young woman, phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, and although Keith hates when people order while speaking on the phone- he smiles. He takes her order patiently which earns him a smile in return and a soundless ‘thank you’ as she pays and walks out with her Cafe Americano with a dash of espresso. He cringes at the thought of the taste as soon as she turns and leaves.
The next handful of customers are a breeze and Keith is finally in the swing of things when two young guys approach. One he recognizes slightly, but he doesn't know from where or how. He’s wearing a simple dark green sweater considering the chill fall breeze but oddly enough his head is sporting a bright orange headband...or bandanna? Keith can’t really tell and he tries his best not to stare or to show the confusion on his face.
The big guy greets him with an easygoing smile that Keith reciprocates almost immediately, honestly shocked at how quickly it came to him. The man just seemed to have this comforting aura radiating off of him in waves that Keith appreciates. But this, however, is quickly ruined by his friend who stands next to him. This one wears a hideous magenta t-shirt with what looks like an image of Darth Vader wearing shades printed on the front, his neck is craned downward, most likely looking at the displays of sweets they have. There is something about the way this guy stands, the way his hand is on his hip in almost annoyance? It throws Keith off a bit, but before he can think too much, the first guy is speaking and Keith turns his attention to him.
“Hi, morning, I’ll just take a regular coffee , cream and sugar please.” He smiles again and Keith is happy to record his order into the machine. It’s rare that he ever gets a please or a thank you in the morning, it makes him feel a sense of gratitude that almost makes him want to thank the guy as well. Although that would be decidedly weird and so Keith doesn’t, instead he turns to the other guy who is now looking directly at Keith. He stalls, only for a moment, as the boy’s stare seems to bore holes into his face. He’s still staring after a few awkward seconds have passed, which is starting to piss Keith off because now there is a line forming and he has yet to take his order.
He clears his throat, “Um..will that be all?” The bigger guy looks over to his friend who is now on his phone- ON HIS PHONE?!
“Uh..oh. No..sorry,” He frowns at his friend before nudging him with an elbow, forcing the other boy to momentarily lose the grip on his phone which Keith almost snickers at, but instead he bites at the inside of his cheek.
“Woah, Hunk, dude. Do not nudge a guy in the middle of an intense level of Candy Crush.” The other guy says, with hardly any anger but it still frustrates Keith because who plays Candy Crush while in line for coffee? Better yet, who plays Candy Crush anymore?
Hunk, Keith assumes, shoots him an apologetic look before swiping the phone out of his friend’s hands, “Lance,” His voice is surprisingly calm and composed compared to how Keith is feeling inside. “You need to order.”
Keith glances at who he guesses is Lance, only to find him staring again. What is with this guy? This time, however, Keith refuses to look away. The Lance guy starts humming, his arms coming to cross and uncross over his chest as he thinks of what to order. Which, by the way, is one of Keith’s biggest pet peeves. He can feel his hands clenching into fists, his nails biting into the material of his gloves. He tries taking subtle deep breaths but nothing can prepare him for when the guy actually starts speaking to someone in line behind him. What? What is he doing?
“Lance, buddy,” Hunk tries again, pulling him away from the conversation he was apparently having with a pretty blonde girl behind him. He winks at her which makes Keith somehow angrier and he forces himself to bite his tongue when the girl blushes back. “We have class soon, you need to choose fast.” As if he knew that wasn't enough, he turned to Lance with what Keith recognized as puppy dog eyes.
“Please..?”
Class? For a brief moment, Keith allows himself to wonder if they go to Altea--of course they do--and silently sends a prayer to anyone who may be listening to not put this Lance character in any of his classes. Although he highly doubts it as he watches Lance grin back at Hunk with what looks like sarcasm in a smile.
“Yeah, I’ll have a...hot brew of you?” Keith stiffens automatically, his brain not at all comprehending with what his ears are transferring to it. He swears he heard wrong. He blinks once, then twice. His eyes widen as Lance smirks down at him making Keith feel shorter than he actually is.
Did he just..?
Keith looks to Hunk for an explanation but what he finds is Hunk looking at Lance like a disappointed parent, but he doesn't miss the ghost of a smile on his lips. He almost seems proud past the stern eyes and Keith is actually shocked. He doesn't even know this guy but he thought at least he would be more...embarrassed?
It’s been too long of a silence and Keith is flush with annoyance and shock as Lance’s grin widens with each passing second. He mentally shakes his head, refocusing on the task at hand. “What?” He winces at his own voice, that high pitched sound was definitely his but he hadn't heard it crack like that in years. He clears his throat, blush deepening across his cheeks. “I’m sorry but..no.”
Lance’s grin gets wider if even possible as he leans in a little closer, which in turn makes Keith lean a little bit farther back. “In that case,” There's a spark in Lance's deep blue eyes that Keith dislikes very much, “I’ll have you served iced.”
Keith blinks, his face burning as a few patrons giggle at the scene. Even Hunk is hiding a small smile behind the back if his hand and Keith can't help but feel...well what does he feel? He’s angry, that's for sure, flat out pissed that this pompous star wars nerd is a) holding up the line and b) embarrassing him in front of the whole shop.
He doesn't realize he’s balling up both fists until Hunk cuts through the tension with a nervous laugh, “You know, Lance, why don't you just give him a break already okay?” Lance looks skeptical at first but with one look at Keith’s flustered appearance he gives, smiling proudly.
“Well pretty boy, play time’s over,” Keith bristles at the compliment, that seems more backhanded than anything. “Why don't ya whip me up an Iced White Chocolate Mocha with erm..cream! Extra sugar, emphasis on the extra.” He winks at Keith, who now only stares back at him in disbelief. “I’d also like whipped cream with a cherry on top.”
That is the last straw, now Keith is mad. Punching in the stupid order on the machine, he internally fumes at the guy in front of him. Who even puts whipped cream on an iced drink? Who in their right mind does that? And that drink itself is so stupidly sweet-
“You should probably cut down on the sugar there, Lance, it's really bad for your teeth.” Keith isn't swept away by Hunk’s brotherly comment but it does help distract him if only for a second from his anger, until he remembers who that comment was directed to. Then he’s scowling all over again, his brows scrunched together as he accepts a card from Hunk to swipe. Once he hands Hunk his receipt he disappears into the back, alerting Allura that he can't “handle that son of a bitch in that stupid t-shirt with that stupid face anymore.”
Allura works quickly to finish their order but not before Lance hands her a strip of folded napkin with yet another wink. When she tells Keith about it, his brows scrunch together and his face twists up into an angry grimace.
She gives him a worried glance before handing him the napkin which Keith regards with a suspicious look. Coran looks up from his baking sheet, a thin layer of dough spread across it in order to be rolled into croissants.
“What has you frowning again, Picasso?” Keith tries to wipe the scowl off of his face but each time he does, that pompous ass materializes into his brain again. Coran is watching his expressions carefully, a questioning frown on his face. “Keith?”
He blinks up from the napkin which he doesn't realize he has been staring at, slouching into a caramel colored beanbag. “People are insufferable, Coran. All of them.” He rolls the napkin between his palms harshly until Coran places a cautious hand on top of his.
“Maybe you should go home early, yeah? Get ready for your new classes and...catch up on some rest.” Keith looks up at Coran through his lashes, the napkin feeling heavy in his hands. He hates being pitied, but maybe it's best to go home. Obviously, he wasn't as in control of his emotions as he’d like to be this morning.
His shoulders lift up in a shrug, “Only if it's okay with Allura.”
“Only if what’s okay with me?” She saunters in, coffee cup in hand. She really is beautiful, Keith finds himself thinking. Maybe if he wasn't entirely for guys and guys only, he’d even crush on her.
“I suggested that he went home early, he's not very...alive this morning.” Coran speaks up, a hand coming to rest on Keith’s shoulder.
Allura eyes him, her free hand settling on her hip. “On any normal day, I’d say that we need you.” Keith can hear the sympathy in her voice, and it’s enough for him to entirely regret even considering leaving early.
“No, it’s fine, thanks though Coran,” He sends the older man a small smile of gratitude before turning to Allura. “I’ll stay. My classes won’t start until after one and I’d rather not sit in the apartment until then.” Coran makes a sounds that almost seems impressed, and Keith sits up in his chair. “I’ll be up front in a second, I promise.” Allura raises her brows but shrugs in agreement, turning on her heel to head out to the front again. Keith stands and nods at a hesitant Coran before shooing him to continue his baking and Coran sends him a smile in return.
He almost forgets the napkin, but once he notices it again he internally groaned so as to not worry Coran again. Carefully, he opens the napkin, flattening it against his open palm. Keith’s lips pull into a confused frown as he stares at the small image scribbled onto the napkin, followed by chicken scratch handwriting. It’s a doodle of what seems to be a tiny space shuttle, an alien riding on top as a jockey would a horse. Underneath, the words ‘hope to see you in my orbit soon’. He cringes. That’s cheesy. He folds it back up, shoving it into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans. Cheesy, but a bit charming, almost charming enough for Keith to forget who was supposedly behind the art. Almost. He bites down onto his lip,heading back up to the register, the weight of the napkin obvious in his pocket.
_____________________
Pidgeot> (HOLT)
-hey stud, how’s lunch look?
Da Vinci> (KOGANE)
-probably not very appetizing
Pidgeot> (HOLT)
-not in the caf you idiot
-you owe me lunch member?
Da Vinci> (KOGANE)
-not exactly
-pretty sure you told me that if i didn't pay for lunch you would tell takashi that i picked up more shifts at work
Pidgeot> (HOLT)
-i still don't get how that would make him mad
Da Vinci> (KOGANE)
-he thinks i work too much
Pidgeot> (HOLT)
-shiro’s such a dad
Keith snorts at that last text, quickly typing back “I know” before pocketing his phone. He turns, sliding his employee card to punch out for the day. Allura passes him by, hips swaying with the lively sounds and music of a now pretty crowded Java Lion. She pats his head lovingly with one hand, the other draping his black hoodie over his shoulder which Keith thanks her for with a smile.
“Don’t be nervous, you’ll do just fine today.” Her voice is smooth and filled with a familiar light happiness as she travels around the corner to make another drink. He sighs, a content feeling taking over as he revels in the buoyant aura that the shop always offers around noon. The smells of freshly ground coffee beans and baked goods are comforting as he salutes Coran, who waves back with an unfrosted donut. Keith finally pushes out the front doors, holding it open for a mother and her small toddler who grins up at Keith, lifting his robot toy for him to see. The mother notices her son’s distraction and smiles over at Keith who nods respectively before waving goodbye to the boy and leaving through the front door.
His phone vibrates in his pocket and he struggles to pull it out while also simultaneously speed walking towards the bus stop as to not miss his ride. As soon as he’s settled on a bench, the bus a few minutes away, he glances down at the screen to see a few more text messages waiting for him. Keith waits until he’s paid and already aboard the bus before actually swiping across the screen to answer.
Pidgeot> (HOLT)
-we are still doing lunch right?
-keith?
-where the hell are u?
Whatever, i’ll be in the union hall. I have ur bag HURRY UP
Keith sighs, typing back to his impatient friend-
Da Vinci> (KOGANE)
-srry was punching out
-just got on bus, be there soon
Pidgeot> (HOLT)
-ur so slow
Keith ignores that one and instead digs in his hoodie pocket to retrieve his earbuds. His fingers slide across his Spotify playlist, skipping past some old favorites: mostly Panic At The Disco and My Chemical Romance. Even his best friend makes fun of those selections, joking that it matches his angsty dark persona. Which is not true, Keith is not angsty nor dark. He just keeps to himself, and a few selected individuals. He’s much more comfortable that way, the less people around him the smaller chance that they can hurt him. He tries to ignore how angsty that actually sounds and instead swipes to his Joywave playlist, leaning his head back against the seat, turned to the side as he watches the world whir by.
Pidge is sitting on the white marble fountain, legs dangling off of the side as they type rather quickly on their tiny laptop. Their fingers flying across the keyboard, neck craned to watch the screen. Keith approaches them carefully, pulling an earbud out as Pidge instinctively pushes their large round glasses back to the bridge of their nose. ‘Dangerous’ by Big Data ft. Joywave is playing so loud in his ears that the loose earbud can be heard and Pidge slowly lifts their eyes, fingers still typing even though they can’t see. This isn’t a surprise to Keith, who has realized that the keyboard has become apart of Pidge’s muscle memory. Pidge, who never has enough time to breath between ideas and rushing to type them down. Pidge used to keep a physical journal for their epiphanies and such, but then some ass tossed it into this very fountain after Pidge insulted his IQ, comparing it to one of a mechanical pencil. Which isn’t much of an insult, (in Keith’s opinion.) but it was enough to set the guy off.
Now, Keith is familiarized with the image of Pidge typing away whenever they get the chance, reflection of the screen in their wide glasses that they adjust every ten minutes. He never really asked, but he honestly doesn’t think they’re prescribed. It doesn’t matter much though, so he leaves it alone. He watches them carefully as Pidge finishes up their sentence and quickly closes the laptop, revealing the smile that was hidden behind the screen. It’s a big cheesy grin that warms Keith’s heart, Pidge jumps off the edge of the fountain, shoving their macbook air into their bag, and slings the strap over their shoulder.
“Let’s go, my stomach is eating itself.” With that, Pidge bends down to pick up Keith’s dark green messenger bag, which he takes gratefully. Then they’re arm in arm, Pidge’s looped through Keith’s as they head out the main entrance. Pidge starts talking about how their first class was an absolute drag, the teacher was apparently the worst they have ever had for a Math Science. They were enrolled in several classes that Keith couldn’t even begin to understand, this one in particular however is their Programming Numerical Methods in Python class. Which is a mouthful of words that actually hurt Keith’s brain.
Where Keith had stuck with majoring in Art, Pidge went all out, majoring and minoring in as many things related to math and science as allowed. Not that they were any kind of overachiever, although Keith believes that Pidge is actually trying to beat some kind of genius record. Pidge actually likes learning. Loves it even; happiest when there’s a mind numbingly hard problem placed in front of them with a time limit of less than thirty minutes. Although he doesn’t exactly understand his best friend, he loves them dearly and supports any and all their desires to fry out their brain before they hit twenty five.
“Where to?” Keith speaks up, another Joywave song blaring in his ears. This one is called ‘Content’, which is exactly how he feels strolling along the green with Pidge on his arm, their warmth traveling around him and spreading throughout his chest. Although, now that he’s listening closely, maybe the song is actually talking about the other meaning of content. He doesn’t care too much, so instead he tunes out the lyrics and focuses on his friend.
Pidge grimaces up at Keith, his music so loud now that Pidge can actually make out what is being sung. “First of all, turn that down.” Keith huffs, but does as he’s told, the music lowered to where he can actually hear the other students around them. “You’ll blow out your eardrums and my brother says-” Keith interrupts with a groan, but they ignore him, “-that your ears are one of the most sensitive parts of your body.” Pidge rubs their own ear with their free hand, “And you’re not allowed to go deaf on me.”
Keith nods halfheartedly, used to hearing medical related warnings and advice from both Pidge and their older brother Matt- who is almost always by Shiro’s side. Pidge seems satisfied with themselves as they grin up at Keith, momentarily resting their head covered in ginger hair on his shoulder. He smiles down at them before shaking his head in mild amusement. Pidge is a creation from the greatest beings in the universe, and he’s lucky enough to love and be loved by them. Their bright hazel eyes blink up at him innocently and his heart squeezes in his chest; Pidge is one of the only people in this world who makes Keith feel like he truly belongs. They met back when Shiro and Matt had become best friends themselves, who shared an Anatomy class when they both attended their fourth year at Altea. Ever since Shiro introduced them they’ve been inseparable, doing almost everything together. Now almost five years later, they themselves attend Altea, best friends practically joined at the hip.
“Anyway,” Pidge is now looking ahead, their wild hair getting swept up with the breeze which Keith can tell is bothering them. Thanks to Allura’s hospitality that morning, Keith’s hair is already up, but luckily he always kept a black headband in his bag. He leaned a bit to reach into his bag, fingers scrambling around until they're caught on a familiar material. Pidge watches him carefully, eyes brightening when he lifts up the band for them to see. “Thank you,” Pidge says, quickly pulling the headband over their head, pushing back their hair with a satisfied sigh. “Like I was saying, we should head to a fast food place, I don’t care where. It just has to be quick because I have-” Pidge glances down at their digital wristwatch from most likely the late 80’s “-Twenty minutes before my next class. Someone shouldn’t have taken so long because maybe then I’d have more time to eat.” There’s no bitterness to their tone, just a light teasing that is very familiar to Keith. He purposely gives Pidge an obnoxious grin and they swat at his face, their faux scowl fading into a smile.
They stop at the student parking where Pidge pulls away from Keith to reach for their key, immediately missing their warmth. Pidge moves towards their black beat up 1980’s AMG Hammer, Abacus. Pidge told Keith once that the Abacus- invented by some dude with the last name Oughtred -was the descendant of the computer. Pidge would go on and on about how the computer wouldn’t even exist without the Abacus and how unfortunate it is that most scientists don’t even know the origin of it all. Not that Keith particularly cares about any of this, but when Pidge gets invested in a thoughtful rant, it’s hard not to pay attention. He would sit for hours, elbows stationed so his hands could hold up his face, completely lost in Pidge. They would speak, and a whole other world would open up. Suddenly he could understand things he never expected to, or at least that’s how it feels. Keith loves Pidge. If he could, he’d probably fall in love with them, marry them, and grow old together all while adoringly listening to every one of their angry spiels about society and the concept of it all.
“Hey, lonely and miserable,” Keith looks up to Pidge who is grinning when he answers to their not so clever nickname. “We going or what? This kid needs a burger stat!” Thoughts of growing old and being in love clear his mind, and soon he’s walking over to Abacus, opening the passenger door- no one drives Abacus unless their name starts with PI and ends with DGE.
The time passes by fast and Keith finds himself hugging Pidge goodbye, making semi solid plans to meet up after his last class. It’s only 2:34 when Keith trudges through the art building to reach his Art History class, which doesn’t start until four, being two hours long. He instead, finds a nice lounge area near the room and pulls out his large and almost full sketchbook. Shiro bought it for him about a month ago, but Keith uses art as a form of therapy. He’s always drawing. The hour and thirty minutes he has to spare is put towards the sketch of a face, a boy with dark skin and wide eyes. Keith wants to paint them dark blue. He’s finishing up on the shading of the short,wavy hair when he realizes exactly who he drew.
Keith has always drawn from memory, references were never challenging enough for him. So for him, his art would be completely his own, how he perceives the object drawn with his hands. So when he sees Lance's face drawn out on his sketch book, he's only slightly surprised. More so, he's angered. It takes a lot for Keith to express his anger to strangers, in fact he likes to keep that to himself, yet Lance was able to bring it out of him during their first meeting and he hates it. He wants to scrap it, but he's also kind of proud of his work- no matter who it's of. He leans his head against the wall, eyes closing as he feels a headache start to form at his temples.
“Who’s that? He’s kinda cute,” Keith jumps, his eyes flying open as his arms scramble to catch his sketch book before it falls page first. His heart is racing when he comes face to face with a girl..a girl? Her skin is sun-kissed, light freckles sprinkled over her cheeks and the bridge of her only slightly pointed nose. He’s blinking into wide green eyes, lined with a charcoal color which he automatically assumes is makeup.
It takes a moment for him to gather his wits before he clears his throat, bringing the sketchbook a bit closer to his chest. “I...um..he's no one.” Keith’s not sure he's ever seen her around, but if he has, he’s confused as to how he could forget her face. She’s no doubt gorgeous, her ears poking out from her loosely curled surfer blonde hair. Her nose has a small, round silver piercing in it and her smile is so wide that it takes Keith a second to process what's exactly going on. How do people like this even exist?
“Sorry,” Her cheeks are slightly flushed, in what Keith thinks is embarrassment but he really can't tell from the way that she seems to just give off waves of confidence that slightly intimidate him. ”Didn't mean to scare you, wouldn't want that for our newly budding friendship.” Keith’s still staring at her, mouth agape as she takes a seat next to him on the floor, legs spreading out in front of her. As soon as she's settled she turns back to him, face lit up in what looks like amusement.
“Friendship?” He squeaks out, blushing at the sound. His voice keeps betraying him, he should stop speaking to people.
She doesn't seem to mind though, head bobbing to answer Keith’s question. Her perfectly aligned teeth bite down excitedly on her bottom lip. Keith doesn't get how it's humanly possible to have such pink and plump lips, even though they do look undoubtedly natural. Also, who gets lip jobs done just for the hell of it?
“Yup,” She confirms, leaning into him a little to catch another glance at the Lance sketch which Keith holds directly against his chest. She doesn't bat an eye; if she's an art student she must understand. “You're Keith Kogane, right?” He can hear the hesitance in her voice but he’s far more focused on how she even knows his name.
He swallows, “H-how do you-”
“Oh God, way to make a first impression,” Now she’s laughing and Keith's brow raises before she shakes her head with an ‘I’m such an idiot’ smile on her face. “Sorry, I completely forgot,” She’s offering out her hand now and Keith let's it sit airborne, his eyes studying it for any sign of explanation. Before he can ask, she picks up his hand that's not holding onto the book for dear life and shakes it with her own. Keith flushes, now he’s the idiot. “The name’s Iris Marino, most of my friends just call me Vixen though.” She's beaming at him. “As a kid she was my favorite comic book character, I would literally wear my Vixen Halloween costume all the time.”
Keith processes this, not exactly sure what to think of Iris...Vixen? He settles on something that is still nagging him in the back of his head, “I’m sorry but, how do you know my name?”
“Oh,” She grins, a glint of something bordering on mischievous in her eyes, “I found your I.D.” Then she’s brandishing the white and cyan blue card that is in fact a school I.D. Iris holds it up for him to see and sure enough, there’s Keith’s face on the front. He scrambles to get it out of her hand but she swipes it away just in time, eyeing him carefully. “I’ll give it to you in just a tick.” Keith is losing his patience, hating the feeling of foreign eyes on him, “I’ve actually seen you around quite a bit, you're friends with that short kid...um..Katie?”
“You mean, Pidge.” He bites out, the girl doesn’t even wince. Instead she smiles softly at him almost in silent understanding, her eyes drifting back over to the student I.D. in her hand.
“Hey, Keith, would you be my art partner?”
His jaw goes slack and Iris chuckles a bit at this. “Are you serious?”
She nods, shoulder-length hair slightly falling into her face, “Dead.”
“But...why?” He’s inching away from her, but she just moves closer. “Can you quit it?”
“Be my partner.” Iris has a look of determination in her eyes that annoys him.
“Why?”
She smirks, “Be. My. Partner.”
Keith has had enough, pushing off of the wall and standing up straight. He’s scowling down at her, but she just challenges him further, standing up as well. She’s pretty short, to his shoulder at least, and he takes a moment to reconsider the anger building up inside of him. He doesn't want to fight, not here, not now, and not with some short girl who stole his student I.D.
“I’m heading to class. Keep the I.D., I’ll buy a new one.” He goes to turn around, eyes already settled on the door across the hall when he feels a tiny hand grab at his arm. Keith turns his head, scowl still firmly in place before it falls completely as Iris holds up his card. He hesitantly reaches out, grabbing it before she can take it back, but there was no pull when his fingers grasp it.
“Sorry,” She’s sighing running a hand through her hair, “I am God awful at making friends.” Keith snorts at that and Iris smiles, hope written across her face. “You just...you looked cool when you were sketching that guy. I really admire the work I was able to see before you went all Pandora’s Box on me.” (Keith appreciates the reference.) “Anyway, look, you dropped your card over in the Union Hall earlier...and I kinda saw you walk away with that Pidge kid."
Keith can sense that she's nervous, watching as she tucks some golden hair behind one ear. He clears his throat a little, "Um..yeah we were headed to lunch. Thanks for picking it up."
Iris nods, her eyes smiling more than her actual lips. "Look, I know you aren't really much for company but it would be pretty shweet if I could have at least one friend this semester." Then he sees it, like her eyes had become windows, opening up to reveal a secret that only Keith could see.
He blinks, “Sh..weet?” Iris grins and nods at him, as if this is some kind of joke that he should understand, but he really doesn’t.
“Shweet.”
Keith doesn’t know what compels him to, but he shrugs and agrees to being her partner. Usually he’d opt out to be alone, but something about Iris felt almost comically comfortable. They walked into class together as she explained to Keith who exactly Vixen was and before he even realized it, they’re sitting next to each other and laughing over her impression of the professor. He finds it odd, but there's just something so easy about talking to Iris, as if in another life they were good friends and now they are just picking up from where they left off.
The class goes by with Iris cracking jokes and Keith trying his very best not to admit that they are actually funny. He’s not used to having a friend like this, or even a person like this in his life, and it makes him nervous. Keith liked being on his own, but maybe he wouldn't mind having Pidge and Iris by his side sometimes.
“Here,” Iris is taking his phone from his grasp before he has the chance to protest. “My number.” She’s typing in a contact name when the professor deems the class over for today and Iris quickly snaps a photo of herself for a contact picture, Keith assumes. “Don't call me unless you're being viciously ripped apart by dogs,” She says sternly, her eyes narrowing as she stares into Keith’s soul. He nods slowly and soon Iris is grinning again. “But text me anytime.” With that she’s off, leather backpack bouncing on her back as she bounds down the steps of the seats. Once she gets to the bottom, she looks back up at Keith to wave and she's gone.
As soon as she disappears, Keith feels a vibration in his pocket, which he assumes is Iris but is shocked a little to see it's a text from his brother.
Old Man> (SHIROGANE)
-hey keith! how are all your new classes?
Keith rolls his eyes, finally standing up and collecting his things as the room continues to empty of students. They're slow and sluggish as they leave, probably heading back to the dorms or their houses, this being their last class of the day. Unfortunately, Keith had to take up a Statistics course last minute, giving him an 8:30 class. Which sucks.
Baby Keith> (KOGANE)
-fine so far...dad
-i hace one more class
-have*
Old Man> (SHIROGANE)
-should i assume that you won't be home for dinner?
Baby Keith> (KOGANE)
-i'm a big boy takashi, i'll just find something to eat
-i don't have enough time to come back to the apartments
He sighs, about to shove his phone into his pocket when it erupts with sounds, at first scaring the shit out of him. Soon, the sound lowers a little and he recognizes it as the Space Invaders theme song, which can only mean one thing.
“Hey, Pidge.”
“KEITH!” He leans away from his phone a bit, taking the stairs two at a time before finally reaching the end. “What class do you have next? You said you had a night class, right?”
“Uh...yeah.” He’s turning out the door now, headed towards the quad when he hears a sharp gasp from the other line. He falters a moment, worry immediately settling in the pit of his stomach, “Pidge?”
“WE CAN HAVE A DINNER DATE.”
Keith sighs, shaking his head with a ghost of a smile on his face. “You scared me, Pidge.”
“Oh shit sorry,” They pause for a moment, the sound of a door opening in the background before they speak again. “You sound drained as all hell, Keith.”
“That's because I am,” He admits, letting the letters drag off of his tongue. No matter how much Iris tried to distract him from the professors boring as all balls speech, it was still a two hour long class. Not to mention that last night he had gotten maybe almost four hours of sleep, thanks to his insomnia and screaming thoughts.
Pidge tsks, “Well, head over to my dorm. You can crash on my roomie’s bed.” Keith wants to argue, but he's far too exhausted to deny himself a rest. So he stops moving and turns to head in the direction of the honor student dormitory.
As soon as he knocks on the door it's being swung open and Pidge is smiling on the other side. It's an honest relief to see their face and Keith allows himself to smile back, relishing in the way Pidge can make him feel light as air with a simple positive expression.
“Okay so,” Pidge is closing the door behind Keith, pointing with a free hand to their roommate’s bed which Keith accepts gratefully. “I won't force you to eat, but when you do wake up, you can take anything that's in the fridge with you to your next class.” Keith flops onto the bed, his messenger bag falling clumsily to the floor. Pidge is eyeing Keith warily before padding over to him, hands on their hips. “You really need to take better care of yourself, Kogane.” Then they're leaning down to press a warm kiss to his forehead. Keith sighs happily, allowing himself to close his eyes and sleep.
——————
Keith is running, his messenger bag slapping against the back of his thighs as he sprints through the empty quad. He had overslept and Pidge had cuddled up next to him, falling into a deep sleep and completely missing their ‘wake Keith up’ alarm. So now, Keith is reduced to running. His hair is flying in and all around his face, clutching a granola bar in his left hand for dear life as he races to the math building.
When his converse finally skid across the linoleum floors of the building, he’s hooking a left to where he vaguely remembers once seeing a stats room and praying that this is the only one in session at this time. Which is most likely the case. He’s still rushing however, sweat sticking his maroon t-shirt to his back and strands of his hair to his face.
He stops briefly in front of a room filled with a little less than thirty students and sighs a breath of relief when he notices that the professor also seems to be late. Quickly, he makes his way into the room, finding a lonely seat on the very last tier. He likes sitting at the very top, because this way no one can see him unless he calls attention to himself. Which he never does.
Almost two minutes later a flustered older man walks in with a briefcase, cursing under his breath and Keith can only assume that this is his professor.
“My apologies, class,” He speaks up, adjusting his suit jacket a few times before deciding to take it off. He looks like he’s sweating, which Keith can understand as he looks on his wrist for Allura’s hair band which he happily ties up his hair with. “I'm not very accustomed to these later classes.” Keith checks his watch- it's 8:37. Almost a whole ten minutes late. The students are murmuring to themselves while the professor situates himself at the podium and Keith takes this moment to pull out his sketchbook again.
He turns to the page with Lance’s face on it when the professor speaks again. “Call me Dr. Finn, I am your Honors Statistics instructor…” Keith tunes out the rest, accustomed to the introductions of new classes by now. Classes will be held on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Always at 8:30, never a minute after, with the exception of today of course. There will be a syllabus and blah blah blah.
Keith is staring at his sketch again, wondering why his brain hadn't figured to draw Lance's friend instead. He tries to think of a name to go with the kind and endearing face but comes up empty handed. That's when he remembers the napkin and sits up a little to reach into his back pocket and pull it out. It's warm and worn down by now, but the picture is still visible and the words still legible.
His eyes are mentally tracing the handwriting on the napkin when the loud sound of the room doors interrupts him. He peers down at whoever decided to come to class almost twenty minutes late when he hears the voice that he immediately can place to a face.
“Woah shit, how late am I?” Keith bristles at the voice, hairs sticking up at the back of his neck as his eyes follow the figure’s movements.
“Very,” Dr. Finn speaks up, annoyance laced in his tone, “What is your name young man, and why are you so late?”
The guy looks almost scared for a moment before he let's his eyes roam the room until they suddenly land on Keith. He expects some kind of flicker of recognition, but instead he just looks away as if he doesn't remember Keith at all.
“Lance Gabriel McClain, sir,” He’s grinning, eyes on the professor now. Everything about the response is smug and Keith hates it. He wants Dr. Finn to kick him out of class or report him for misdemeanor. “And I'm late because my buddy Hunk and I were having a staring contest and I refuse to lose.” Keith’s scowling without even realizing it, everything about Lance just seems to anger him. From the way he stands, hip to one side, arms crossed loosely over his white and blue baseball tee to the way his lips are curled up in a cocky smirk. Not to mention that now, Lance is looking back up at Keith again, and before he has the chance to look away, Lance winks. That idiot winks at him.
“Not a proper excuse McClain, I expect you on time for our next class or there will be repercussions. Either come on time or not at all, I hate interruptions.” Dr. Finn glares and Keith silently appraises him. Lance responds with a toned down but still very pompous grin, his arms raising in mock defense.
“Loud and clear, teach.”
The professor eyes him carefully before huffing and dismissing Lance from the interrogation. Keith watches him turn to the seats and immediately bows his head, focusing on the little napkin in front of him. Keith reasons that he won't even try coming up to sit with him, Lance obviously doesn't remember Keith and only winked because he's that much of an idiot. He hears a chair a few rows down move across the floor and sighs, his shoulders releasing the tension he didn't realize was there. Then, there's a tap on his shoulder and they automatically tense back up again.
Keith closes his eyes, holding in a deep sigh.
God hates me. He hates me and he's showing me by putting this pompous, idiotic flirt in my life.
“I know this seat isn't taken, but i'm going to ask anyway.” Lance's voice comes out smooth and irritating and it takes everything Keith has not to turn and deck him in the mouth.
“There are other places to sit,” He grits out, sounding far more angered than he thought he was. He still refuses to look up but can practically feel Lance’s eyes on him. He hates it. He really fucking hates it.
“Sure there are,” Lance sighs, and Keith can't see it but he can definitely hear the smirk in his voice, “But no one else was giving me goo goo eyes when I walked in late.”
This makes Keith’s face snap up to meet Lance’s knowing look. “I was not giving you goo goo eyes.” Lance is about to respond with something undoubtedly stupid, when his jaw falls slack and his dark blue eyes widen. He’s staring, just like he did this morning, but with less scrutiny this time. He honestly looks shocked and Keith flushes a bit under his intense gaze.
“Holy shit,” Lance breathes out, his eyes darting to the desk in front of Keith and he's only confused for a second before he remembers his sketch...and Lance’s. He turns away, quickly shoving the napkin in his sketch book and slamming it shut, his heart racing and the flush on his skin deepening in color. “Coffee guy?”
Keith slowly looks up again, his face a deep crimson now. An embarrassed anger rumbles beneath his ribcage, swirling throughout his insides. He narrows his dark eyes at Lance who still hasn't collected his wits. “My name...is Keith.” His jaw is so taut that his teeth are painfully mashed together, but he can't seem to care at the moment.
The shocked look slowly leaves Lance's face, a blush creeping up his neck as his eyes stay locked on Keith’s. Then, the bastard grins.