Chapter Text
As a magic user, Lance McClain has had tons of adventures.
He's been on quests for a so called "Holy Grail" (which, by the way, is literally just a quest that every other witch-in-training has gone through at the age of twelve), he's brewed some sketchy and somewhat explosive potions (mostly experimenting in his teen years though; he just had to find a way to cram a bunch of information into that brain of his), and probably most remarkably of all, he's learned to fly (it was more like two feet off the ground, but whatever).
So yeah, Lance McClain has had tons of adventures. He's also learned tons of spells and potions from said adventures: from spells of creating a familiar to potions that make him hold his breath under water, you name it, he's probably done it. Lance even likes to think that he's the most experienced witch of all time.
Well, what a lie that was.
Let's just say... college was much different from witchy adventures.
In college, there was no after-school mini quests, barely time for experimenting with new spells, and there was definitely no time to buy potions or potion ingredients to *ahem* keep him awake. Plus, the workload in activities in college was nearly triple the amount that Lance was used to in high school. Though, he was lucky; fashion design as a major was much lighter-handed in the homework department than his roommate, Pidge's, major, biochemistry.
But still, Lance had work to do. Such as for instance, who knew fashion design actually required essays? Yup, even if it was just fashion design and not something like biochemistry, Lance found himself awake late at night to write the demanding essays.
Which is where, dear audience, the story begins.
"Holy. Fuck. Like, holy fuck! I'm never gonna stay awake this late to finish this thing!" Lance groaned to himself, letting his head thudding roughly against the smooth wood of his dorm desk. The hard surface smacked his cheek solidly, and Lance let out another low groan of complaint. "Just one night of rest!"
Pidge1 shot a look over her shoulder from her desk to check up on Lance, and upon seeing the Cuban male slumped over in frustration, she scoffed. "You're complaining way too much. Why don't you just order from that potion place you usually hang out at? Y'know, the shady one where you got me my frog for biology?"
Lance turned in his chair to pout at Pidge. "First of all, it was a magic toad. Second of all, I highly doubt that place is even open right now, so I guess you'll just have to listen to my complaints, Pidge." He crossed his arms, giving Pidge a triumphant smile.
"Yeah-huh," Pidge replied, rolling her eyes before turning back to her laptop. "What was that place called again anyways?"
"Geez, I do you one favor from my favorite magic shop and you seem to have forgotten the name of it already? For shame." Lance screwed his lips to one side of his face, casting Pidge a smart look. To his disappointment however, Pidge just stared at him, blank-faced with her clean, light auburn eyebrows hunched low on her face. Pidge, obviously, was in no mood to play around.
"Name."
With an irked groan, the Cuban finally gave in, letting out a groan as he leaned back into his chair defeatedly. "Vrepit-Sal's," he moaned. "Should be on the corner of--"
"Unilu and Swaps, yeah, I know. And it's open by the way," Pidge added, turning her laptop to show Lance the screen. Vrepit-Sal's business was displayed on the screen, Google displaying the popular visiting hours and phone number beneath a description of the location and a few pictures.
Lance warily eyed at the screen warily but slipped out his phone from the table, already starting to dial the number. Out of his view, Pidge was smiling smugly to herself as she exited out of the tab once she heard the familiar sound of the dial sound. Ah yes, there was the sound of defeat as Lance gave in to call the place.
"Vrepit-Sal's, how can we help out with your wizardry and witchery needs?" Chirped the voice of the cashier on the other end.
Lance sighed to himself and combed his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Hi. This is Lance, the one guy who always hangs out at your shop--"
"Oh, Lancey-Lance!" The voice at the other end giggled. Lance pouted at said voice, now able to identify it as Nyma, one of the longest employees of Vrepit-Sal's and the one who always memorized Lance's orders based on the expression he showed each time he walked through those doors.
"Yeah, hey Nyma. You guys are still open, right?" The Cuban confirmed, anxiously leaning back in his chair and tapping the hand rest of his chair impatiently.
Nyma's voice answered almost immediately. "Of course! What do you need this time, Lance?" The sounds of shuffling came from the other end, Nyma now ready to take Lance's order.
The fashion-design major brought two fingers up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep himself focused on the task at hand rather than dozing off. "Um, can I get bottle of that all-nighter potion you guys have?"
"Sure! Would you like the eight fluid once or the sixteen--"
"Sixteen," Lance stated quickly. "And I assume it'll be same price as in store?"
"That is correct!" Nyma chirped. "Would you like it to be picked up or delivered?"
Lance took a moment to consider the options. Honestly, he'd prefer to have it picked up; he doubted that having random strangers appear at his doorstep would make Pidge happy, but it was pretty late at night. And Lance didn't really want to go out when it was so dark and (for lack of a better term) creepy. The streets looked different at night, and even if Lance knew the way there, he was sure he'd be confused and lost later on.
"Delivered," Lance answered firmly. "And you need my address, right?"
"That is correct. Now, address please?" Nyma hummed on the other side. Lance rambled off the university dorm's address and room number, making sure to take it slow so Nyma could get all parts of the address. Once he was finished, Nyma's voice came through the other side again. "That should do it! Please expect the delivery to reach its destination in about ten to fifteen minutes!"
A sigh of relief swept through Lance, and he relaxed in his seat. "Alright, thanks Nyma! Have a nice night."
"Good night to you too, Lance. Good luck!"
And with that, the line cut off, and Lance slumped into his chair, making Pidge glance over her laptop with a raised eyebrow. "Is everything alright there, Lance?"
Lance's hand shot up in an 'OK' gesture, but the owner of that hand itself was grumbling a long string of curses under his breath. "Yup! Fine, super fine! Except for the fact that I forgot how much I hated doing business over the phone," he grumbled.
Pidge blinked, but her confused expression soon died down into one of sympathy. A chuckle tumbled from the biochem major's lips, and she sat back with her arms crossed. "You get used to it, Lance. Don't strain yourself now..." Pidge's amber eyes flicked to the laptop upon Lance's desk once before returning her attention back onto Lance. "You should get to work on that essay though. Maybe then you won't even need to use that potion thing of yours."
Disgruntled, Lance emitted a long breath as e righted himself back up on his chair. "Fine. You're right anyways," he mumbled as he rubbed his face. Lance sighed and turned back to his laptop, focused back on at his blank paper (hold for the MLA formatted header at the top of his page). He stretched out his arms in front of him; a satisfying crack popped from his arms and shoulders before he began typing.
"Great... Page one. Paragraph one. Ugh, oh joy."
***
"For the love of God, Lance, wake up. Your delivery is here." Pidge nudged shoved Lance awake. "Geez, you sleep like a freaking brick, Lance, get up! This guy's asking for you, hurry up and answer him."
Lance's eyelids fluttered open, and the boy himself slowly sat back up. He wore a sleepy expression, and a dribble of drool ran from his lip to his chin, causing Pidge to recoil in disgust.
"Eugh, Lance! Get a grip of yourself," Pidge commented, lightly slapping Lance's arm to wake him up. "Your potion's here, you need to pay for it."
"Wha-? How long was I out...?" The fashion major questioned, starting to come to terms as he stood up on sleepy, wobbily legs. He lifted a darkly tanned hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes as he grabbed his wallet from the drawer, shuffling himself to the door of their dorm.
Pidge shrugged, making her way back to her own desk. "About fifteen minutes or so," she informed with a smirk. "Though you barely made any progress on your essay. The only thing that's on it is the word, "The," " Pidge pointed out with a snicker.
Lance rolled his eyes as he made his way to the front door. "Haha, very funny. I'm tired." A string of curses left under Lance's breath as he opened the door. And boy was that a sight.
The delivery boy was right on his doorstep, holding out a Kraft paper bag (with Vrepit-Sal's label stamped on one side) in one hand, his other hand holding a phone with a credit card reader stuck in it. His sharp, obsidian eyes bore right into Lance's own, intimidating Lance enough to the core to make him freeze in his tracks. But that wasn't the main reason why Lance was so shocked.
"Keith?" Lance sputtered, flailing his arms out of shock.
This couldn't be right. Ambitious, impulsive, somewhat emo Keith from high school was at Lance's doorstep, despite Lance believing that he'd never see Keith again a day in his life? Okay, well admittedly, Lance did expect to see him from time to time, since he heard that Keith would also be attending the same university as a music major.
What really shocked Lance was Keith working for Vrepit-Sal's. The magic supply store. When, if Lance's memory was right, Keith was in no way associated with magic. At. All.
Lance's head buzzed from the sudden information, but Keith didn't seem to be too fazed upon seeing Lance.
"Uh, yeah, hi, sorry. Um, I'm looking for Lance McClain?" Keith inquired, holding up the paper bag. "This is supposed to go to him."
"You don't remember me?" Lance's face fell into a look of annoyance, and he crossed his arms with an irked pout. "Um, hello! Keith, c'mon man. We were, like, rivals back at Garrison High? Doesn't junior and senior year Spanish ring a bell?" Lance quirked an eyebrow, expecting for the old classmate to recall something, but Keith only showed signs of confusion and nothing else as he held the bag expectantly. Lance groaned, slumping in defeat. "Ugh, dios mío, do you remember this at least?"
Out of nowhere, Lance leaned against the doorframe and took a hand to slick back his hair, casting a flirty look to God-knows-what in the background. His hands positioned in a finger gun with a twinkling smile confident enough to charm the ladies.
Ah yes. Now Keith remembered. This ridiculous kid.
Keith's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Y'know, I was expecting some college senior to make this order, not you. And I definitely wasn't expecting you to be the wizard everyone's been talking about," he muttered the last bit under his breath, casting his eyes blandly off to the side, his head soon to follow. "How lame."
Immediately, Lance gasped. "I am offended! Me? Lame? How dare you!" The Cuban boy crossed his arms in a huff. "Just what were you expecting me to be in the first place? Some old wizard guy with some longass beard and a thick-ass, heavy-ass robe? I think the fuck not. I'm a witch, not a wizard. Wizards are old guys too caught up in tradition, and who has time for that?"
After the short speech, Lance immediately silenced himself, turning his head and sticking his nose in the air snobbily. Although a twinge of curiosity did gnaw at him as Keith rolled his eyes.
"Everyone's been talking about me?"
Oh yeah. Keith definitely remembered this guy. Keith forced himself to smile. You found him, Keith. Now just ask him a teensy, tiny question.... "Oh yeah! They talk about you loads at Vrepit-Sal's."
But first, let me be a butt-kisser first.
"They do?" Lance opened an eye, casting a wary glance at Keith.
"Oh yeah. Tons. You're some prodigy or whatever, right? You've only been at magic for a couple years but you can already handle wandless magic? That's incredible," Keith complimented, though this time earnestly. "And your work with water magic is unparalleled according to the other employees at Vrepit-Sal's. Just how do you do it?"
Easy now, Keith. Ease him into the question...
Thankfully, Keith's plan was working because now Lance was interested. The fashion major was smirking, giggling to himself like the low-key narcissist he was.
"I guess I'm just a natural," Lance answered lightheartedly. "A prodigy of sorts?" He chuckled to himself, bringing his fingers up to his chin in the shape of a 'V.' "I mean, after all, I did only start just a few years ago. Why, jealous?"
Go now.
"Actually, I guess you could say so," Keith lied, shrugging. "Must be nice to be a natural; I just have to take it easy and just practice, I guess..." Keith feigned a sigh and looked at his feet as he held the bag out to Lance. "Anyways, here. Take your potion. That'll be six dollars please."
"Right..." Lance now sounded dejected. Sympathetic. Perhaps even sorry for Keith? Wow, and Keith isn't even that great of an actor, score one for Keith.
Sure, Lance knew that he said that he was a prodigy, but that wasn't necessarily the case. Sure, he was naturally gifted; tons of other witches said it themselves, but I mean... I did practice and work hard to become good these past couple of years... He thought to himself as he took out a few dollar bills before handing it over to Keith.
Seeing sad looking Keith now made him feel squirmish. Typical emo Keith, right? Lance didn't like seeing emo Keith, it was kind of annoying.
"Anyways, thank you for choosing Vrepit-Sal's, I have to get going now..." Keith sighed, turning to exit the college dormitory hallway. "I'll see you later, Lance." Keith's pace at walking away was slow, hopefully giving Lance enough time to contemplate and call him back. Man, Keith swore he could read Lance like a book. That kid was just way too predictable.
In three.... two.... one...
"Hey, wait a minute, Keith! I can tutor you!" Lance screeched, lunging out a hand to stop Keith. "I can tutor you in magic if you want!" He offered, shooting Keith a dazzling smile.
Bingo.
A smirk appeared across Keith's face, but he quickly swept it off and morphed it into a full on smile as he turned around with his personal phone, swiping this way and that to make a new contact. "Great, if you could just trade numbers with me so you can help me out with my magic, that'd be great!"
Lance's expression slumped into a blunt one as he passed over his own phone to Keith, trading the devices. "You were planning this all along, weren't you?"
"Yup." Keith quickly typed in his number and name at the same time as Lance, quickly then exchanging devices again. "Thanks anyway!"
The fashion major groaned, leaning against his doorframe again. "You could've just asked! I wouldn't have minded training you." Lance crossed his arms, pouting. "Now I know all those compliments were just there to kiss up to my ass."
Keith shrugged, starting to turn back to leave, but his face was still turned to Lance. "Hey, they weren't all lies. I actually might respect you as a witch, so there's a compliment for you." Keith grinned slyly, now starting to pick up the pace to get back to work. "I've gotta get back to Vrepit-Sal's. See you later, tutor!" And with that, Keith was gone, leaving Lance to stand in his doorway with a blank expression.
But as soon as Keith was gone, Pidge's voice called from the other room. "That took a while. Get started on that essay."
Lance shook his head as he walked back in, taking out the glass bottle and beginning to chug it as he neared his desk. "I can't believe that ass convinced me to tutor him," he grumbled, sounding very convincing to himself, but unfortunately, not to Pidge.
"Didn't you say that you didn't mind? I thought you wanted to tutor someone anyways," Pidge pointed out.
Lance elected to ignore Pidge's call out as he rolled up to his computer, taking yet another gulp of his stay-awake potion. "Whatever, Pidge. I'm working on this essay."