Work Text:
If Keith had to hear one more story where Lance bemoaned the loss of yet another girlfriend, Keith was going to throw either himself or Lance in the goddamn river. She really hurt me bad, Keith. He didn't care anymore. Or he did, but he wasn't happy about it. She fell out of love. How do you even do that? And Keith could have told him it was because Lance bolstered up a persona he held up to everyone around him, hoping no one would notice the real him, behind the bragging words and false bravado. He could have said it was because he never let anyone get too close, otherwise they'd see the chips in his personality.
But he didn't say any of that. Keith drank his words down with his coffee and came up with something else, something stitched together real fast to make Lance feel better. And it always worked -- Lance always got back on up, back to his confident self, real or not, and would inevitably swoon over some other pretty face.
And Keith wanted nothing else in the world other than to be that next pretty face.
His wasn't very remarkable, no matter how often he caught himself looking in the mirror, at different angles, in different lighting. He'd outgrown his mullet, though that was mostly because Lance wanted to try out his new hair-styling techniques and Keith had been drawn in with the words "free haircut." His jaw was a little too defined, maybe, or his eyebrows a little too heavy.
Lance, on the other hand, had a face that sparked interest, a smile that pulled people in, and a laugh that cemented that feeling of 'like' in place. He made jokes, both good and bad, and Keith wanted to punch him for some of them, and smile at him in a melt-y, stupid kind of way for others.
Yes, he was in pretty deep. Too deep. Much deeper than he ever actually wanted, like he was groping around in a dark room for a light switch that didn't exist. There was no way he could complain to anyone about it, though, and not because they wouldn't approve. Hunk already knew about it -- he'd known since Keith knew, which was pretty impressive because sometimes it took a while for Keith himself to figure out his emotions.
He couldn't really complain because he'd never done anything to try and win Lance over. The most he did was fight with the guy, which, in pretty much every book he knew about, was the exact opposite of what to do in order to capture anyone's heart.
So, with some wild determination that came (like most of his ideas and motivation) in the middle of the night, Keith made it his New Year's resolution to get up off his stagnant ass and actually do something for once.
It was only when morning came did he realized he should have been a little more specific.
***
There was a lot of waiting involved in the first grand idea that came to Keith's mind. He was in his car, fiddling with the radio stations with the belief that every single one of them conspired together against listeners so they went on commercial break at the exact same time. No, he did not need new tires and he was never going to sign up for a gym membership -- why pay money for something he could do at home?
It was a pretty gusty evening, as far as evenings went; he could hear the wind pushing through all the cracks and seams in his car. The sun would be setting in a bit, but hopefully Lance would be striding out of the salon before it did. Keith already felt like the world's biggest weirdo for camping out in the front and even creepier for knowing Lance's schedule. He'd been given it, in a text, about a week ago. There was nothing really creepy about it except, maybe, for the fact Keith used the information to pick him up.
And when Lance did come walking out, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, Keith's conscious was eased by the way Lance's face lit up when he saw him. A little more with the way he jogged over and pulled open the passenger-side door.
"What're you doing here?" Lance asked, smiling like an excited dog.
"Picking you up," Keith replied. Was his voice shaking? He sure as fuck hoped it wasn't shaking. His face was on fire, but there was barely anymore light in the sky to show it off. "I thought I'd surprise you."
Lance immediately threw his bag to the backseat and slid in, bringing a whirl of fancy shampoo smells. "Well, you achieved that," he said. "If this were a cartoon, I'm pretty sure my jaw would have hit the pavement. Are we going anywhere? Or are you just giving me a lift?"
Keith shrugged. To say he hadn't thought that far would be a lie -- he had, he just hadn't come up with a solid plan. "You want to catch a movie? Or are you too tired from work?"
Lance rolled his eyes. "Dude, I've been standing all day. The movies sound amazing right now," he said. "I usually go home and watch TV right after work anyways."
Keith nodded and pulled out of the parking lot. Movies it was then. Would they get dinner afterwards? Probably. Maybe he should have suggested it first, but Keith wasn't hungry and hadn't thought to ask Lance until after he'd already suggested the movies. And without realizing it, a whole ten minutes passed where nobody said anything.
Lance was on his phone, the glow of the screen reflected on his face.
Keith focused on the road again, but his mind was already churning out the possibilities. Had he already found a new love interest? Was he updating his blog? He definitely owned one. Not like Keith checked it lots. Nope.
"So," Lance said, startling Keith out of whatever thought train his brain decided to take. "I've been looking up movies and unless you want to see a kids movie, there's a typical action type thing showing, I don't recognize the name, the new Avengers movie, or a questionable romance flick. There are a few more but they've already started, so we'll have to wait an hour."
Keith knew exactly which movie they'd be seeing. "Have you seen the new Avengers movie?" he asked.
"Nope."
"I see."
"Have you?"
"No."
Keith didn't even look at him and knew Lance was grinning his stupid open-mouthed, "hey-eyyyy," kind of grin. It was a very punch-able grin.
"I hate you," he said.
"Oh come on, you know you want to see it too," Lance said. He'd put away his phone.
"Maybe," Keith said. "Or maybe I wanted to see that romance one."
"Yeah right, Keith going to see a rom-com," Lance replied. Keith could hear the eye-roll.
"I like comedies," Keith argued.
"And the romance?"
Keith hesitated. They'd arrived at the theater, he just needed to find a parking spot. "Maybe." Found one.
"I'll believe that when I see it," Lance muttered.
"Oh yeah? Well be prepared to see it, buddy."
"What, we're seeing it?" Lance had unbuckled and was ready to get out of the car.
Keith thought about what he'd just declared. "One day!" he announced. "Not today, today is The Avengers."
Lance snorted.
"Hey. How about this, you come to my place one day and we will rent the most god-awful romance movie out there," Keith said. "And we will watch it in all seriousness."
"Is that even possible? You watching it seriously."
Keith shrugged and gave him a grin. "We'll just have to wait and find out."
***
Anger and annoyance, which usually led right back to anger, was not unfamiliar territory. Keith felt it brewing inside him, wanting to come out in a fit of bitter words or several beat up pillows, but he managed to only throw his backpack as far as he could across the room, where it hit the wall and fell down in a sad heap.
A good friend. That's what he'd been told he was, a good friend.
And a little part of him glowed a bit. He wanted to be a good friend, yes. That was important and he often wondered if he was doing enough for his friends, to let them know they were appreciated. He knew he was kind of bad at showing that kind of affection. Well, any affection, really, he was kind of like a tightly wound ball of emotions he didn't know what to do with, so he kept it all contained.
But. But. He wanted to be a little something more than a good friend to one person in particular. The friend box? Sure, checked, all good. But he wanted that to develop into something a little more rosy in hue.
He'd been picking up Lance from work, texting to see if he wanted to hang out on free days, and eating out to places Keith normally wouldn't have gone. Sure, that just meant places like Applebee's or the mall, but he wanted Lance to notice.
And he technically had. It just wasn't quite what Keith had been hoping for.
Keith needed something with more pizzazz, that would really catch Lance's attention and force him to wonder why Keith was doing what he was doing.
"You could lick the sidewalk and I'm pretty sure that would do the trick," Hunk said when Keith went to him for help.
Keith scowled. "You know what I mean."
Hunk looked at him without really looking at him. "Huh. Well. This is gonna be hard, I have to admit. Lance is kind of dense when it comes to other people liking him. I think you're going to have to literally march up to him and slap him in the face with a confession. As straightforward as it can be. Just bam! Confess," he said.
This wasn't at all what Keith had been hoping for. Straightforward emotions, aside from rage, given willingly was not his thing. He was a sudden outburst kind of guy, not a 'plan it 'til it's perfect' one. "Okay, but how," he asked. "I'm having a really hard time imagining a situation where it can just come up naturally."
"Good point, good point," Hunk said with a finger curled under his mouth. "Maybe it has to be unnatural, though. Like, you come flying out of nowhere with a banner that says 'I LOVE YOU LANCE AND HAVE LOVED YOU EVER SINCE YOU KICKED MY ASS AT PAINTBALL.'"
Keith shot him a scandalized look. "I have not."
"Ohhhh but you have," Hunk said, giving him a little mournful pat on the shoulder. "You so have. That was the only time I saw you enjoying something with other people."
Keith wanted to argue, to say he's most definitely enjoyed doing things with other people -- his friends, for example, that's why they were called his friends -- but he swallowed it down, knowing it would lead them both off track. "Anyways, I'm not going to burst out of the bushes waving some big-ass sign."
"I feel like I should point out that you came up with the detail about the bushes. All you."
"I'm not writing down any shit confession," Keith persisted.
"Then tell him to his face! Just waltz up to him, wherever he's at, though maybe not at work, and declare your intentions! Tell him you want to date him and ask if that's cool. I bet it'd be cool. Lance is a cool guy."
Keith wanted to know what part, exactly, of Lance was cool, but shook his head as if to throw out the thought. Lance was dorky and earnest, charming and comforting to be around, but not cool. "Okay, so tell him. To his face. Just as myself?"
"I sure hope so."
"I mean, do I get dressed up? Bring something? Invite him out somewhere?" Keith asked.
And then Hunk's face lit up like the goddamn Griswold family house in Christmas Vacation. Whatever made it do that, Keith was almost entirely sure he did not want to know.
"I've got it," he said. "I've figured it out. And we've got to go right now to get a few things because I am pretty sure you do not own a single thing that isn't black or some variation thereof."
Keith looked down at his shirt. "I've got a red jacket," he protested. It was dark, kind of muted, and he didn't wear it as often anymore, but it existed.
"Yeah, no. Not for what I've got planned," Hunk said.
So Keith asked him what he did have planned. And he didn't entirely hate it, which made it better than most plans he could come up with. With a whole lot of reluctance, he followed Hunk out the door, to the car, where he'd be taken on the most boring, scathing shopping trip the world had ever seen.
***
His stomach felt like it was full of Pop Rocks candy. Every inch of his body was telling him to run, to chicken out and continue living without experiencing awful, acid-burning embarrassment and rejection, but he put one wobbly leg in front of the other until he was standing in front of Lance's apartment.
It was dark out, but the streetlights enabled him to see Hunk sitting in his car, giving him a double thumbs up when Keith turned to look back.
He really didn't want to do any of it. The plastic around the flowers he held crinkled in his hand and a breeze rustled his recently combed hair. Hunk had even spritzed him with some very nice smelling cologne before he got out of the car -- unfortunately, nice or not, he wouldn't ever want to smell it again if things went sour.
And it pretty much did.
He went to ring the doorbell and fidgeted with his new apparel as he waited. Really, the only thing that wasn't black was his sweater. It was red, which Hunk was pretty impressed with, and much brighter than the jacket that still hung in his closet, with an argyle pattern stitched into it in black and white. The jacket had a texture similar to leather -- there was no way Hunk was going to let him buy the real stuff, even if Keith wanted to. It was a pretty comfortable jacket, though he couldn't say the same about the dark, fitted jeans.
When the door swung open, it was not Lance who answered, but Allura. Her fluffy hair was loose around her shoulders and she had a fading smile when she answered the door, like she'd been laughing right before.
"Uh," he said, dropping his arm even so he knew she'd already seen the flowers. "I'll just. Come back."
"Nonsense," she said in that pretty and posh British accent of hers.
But Keith was already backing away. "No, really," he said and then his feet finally took control and he was practically running away. Far away. Except not really far enough because Hunk caught up with him within seconds and rolled down his window to talk to him.
"Dude! What happened?" he asked. He was driving right next to him.
"You saw who opened the door," Keith said. The stems from the flowers were probably all snapped from the way he'd clenched his fists.
"Well, yeah, I saw Allura. Not a great start I admit, but no reason to run off like that! Also, get in the car, this is kind of weird," he said.
So Keith did, but he did it without thinking because his mind was a mess. The flowers were a mess and so was pretty much everything. Everything was awful and a mess and he just wanted to collapse in front of his TV and forget it all existed. For a couple hours, then it would pop back up like an overly friendly neighbor.
"It was Allura," Keith said. He didn't know how to properly convey the things he was feeling or thinking, because they were blending up inside him. "Allura."
Lance and Allura had dated years ago. She's found him annoying at first, and persistent, then later kind of endearing and not at all what he built himself up to be. It hadn't lasted too long, maybe a year, but it was much longer than any of his other relationships and they were still friends. Lance was always on good terms with everyone he dated -- it felt kind of inevitable, really, with Lance's personality -- but they were never as close as he was with Allura.
Thankfully, Hunk pretty much knew what was going on inside Keith's head. "I don't think they're getting back together," he said.
"That doesn't mean they won't," Keith muttered. He'd fixed his gaze out at the dark sky.
"True," Hunk said. "But. I've heard from particular sources that the lady in question has a mighty big crush on a certain mister Shiro. Just saying. You know. In case that changes anything."
And it did. In a really stupid way, it did. If Allura liked someone else, it meant she and Lance wouldn't get together, even if Lance wanted to. And even so Lance's motives were still in the dark, they had been since the very beginning. It put everything back to how it had been.
"Should I turn the car around?" Hunk asked.
"...Yeah."
***
The second time Keith rang the doorbell, his stomach had settled into something more like an Alka-Seltzer sort of fizz and his heart was performing Cirque du Soleil in his chest. He was so focused on breathing that when Lance opened the door, he didn't react for what felt like a whole minute.
"Hey there," Lance said. He was wearing sweatpants and an old v-neck long sleeve covered in what looked like flour. Keith would've felt overdressed if his clothing wasn't giving him the tiniest bit of confidence right then. "Allura told me you performed what sounded like a delayed ding-dong-ditch."
"Yeah," Keith managed to breath out. "Uh."
Lance made room for Keith to come in and if he was being honest with himself, Keith hadn't really expected it to happen. He'd kind of figured he'd blurt out something at the door so he could run back to Hunk if things didn't work out. But he walked in with a little glance over his shoulder; he couldn't see Hunk, but he imagined he was giving him the most supportive smile he could muster.
"We're making cookies," Lance said. "I finally got Allura to give me her dad's ancient recipe."
"My dad's not ancient," Allura called out from what was presumably the kitchen.
"He went white at 35," Lance said back.
"I could very well sprinkle something insidious in the dough. I am a chemist in a room full of chemicals," she returned.
Lance rolled his eyes, but he didn't say anything snarky in response. "Do you want to help?" he asked. "Or did you--" His eyes had finally found the slightly crushed flowers and they narrowed a bit. "Did you know Allura was here?"
"Huh? No!" Keith said, though even to his ears it came out sounding rushed. "No, these are. These are for, for you." He shoved them at Lance, crushing them some more against his chest. One day, plants would get their revenge for the way he apparently was intent on treating them.
Lance's eyebrows went way, way up, but he held the flowers. He looked at them like he wasn't sure what to say, what he ought to think, or what the bouquet could possibly mean. Or he could have just been wondering if Keith bought them looking so beat up.
"I wasn't sure you'd like them," Keith began to babble. "I know you've talked about flowers before and I probably should have brought a plant, now, thinking about it. The point is, I don't really know where or how to begin and I've thought about it a lot, but everything sounded so stupid and all I want is to convey stupid feelings, so I guess everything is just...stupid."
Unfortunately, Lance was staring at him with a very blank face.
"Did anything I just say make sense?"
"Not a thing."
Keith huffed a little. All noises from the kitchen has ceased and he really didn't like the thought of Allura listening in. So he reached up and pulled Lance a little closer by grabbing the back of his neck and drawing him near. He really only intended to tell him, softly, that he liked him. That he's liked him for a long time now. But his face was really near and his skin was so smooth, his hair smelled like he'd just come from a salon -- which he had, probably, or at least used their products -- and everything just sort of felt right.
Which was how Keith ended up kissing Lance full on the mouth, longer than he should have and with much more pressure than he ever thought a first kiss with Lance would ever contain. And when he realized this, he pulled away, ignoring the way his face was probably as red as his sweater, and tried gauging how upset Lance was.
Except Lance's face was as blank as it had been pre-kiss. Perhaps a little more surprise mixed in, maybe a bit more color to his already dark cheeks, but Keith had no idea what was going on in Lance's head.
"Sorry," Keith said, backing up. "I'll go. Sorry."
But Lance grabbed him by the shoulders. "Was that. Are you. Can I take that like I think I should?" he asked.
Keith narrowed his eyes, suddenly unsure. Was Lance really that dense? No, nobody was that clueless. "And how do you think you should take that," he asked, slowly.
And then Lance looked unsure. "How did you mean it?" he countered.
Keith felt his shoulder sag a little -- why had he been so nervous? "How do you think I meant it?" he asked, anger coloring his tone.
"I don't know, man! You suddenly kissed me!"
Something fell in the kitchen.
Keith had never in his life been more envious of ostriches before. He wanted to bury himself in blankets, behind locked doors, and never come out.
"Hey," Lance said, a little softer that time. "Can I kiss you again?"
Keith almost couldn't respond. "Technically," he started. "Technically I kissed you, so you never actually kissed me. So what's all this about 'again?'"
Lance did the slowest eye-roll he'd ever seen anyone do and Keith was pretty sure it was on purpose, for emphasis. "Then let's make the score even," he said and swooped in for another kiss.
It was still stiff, at first, but a lot more gentle and eventually melted into something Keith would never forget. Their first two kisses. But as what? Was he safe in assuming Lance felt the same way? And since when? He seriously hadn't a clue.
When Lance pulled away, his pretty blue eyes were focused entirely on him in a way Keith had always wanted, but never thought he'd get. There was always a little bit of humor mixed in all his expressions, like he was always laughing with his eyes, no matter the situation.
"Finally."
They both turned to see Allura leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She'd put her hair up in a bun.
"Now I can get my 15 bucks from Pidge," she said.
Lance's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?" he said.
Allura shrugged, pulling out her phone. "It's been pretty obvious for a while now," she said. "So Pidge and I made a little bet. Who would be the first to tell the other how they felt."
It took a while for Lance to figure it out, but when he did, Keith almost laughed. "You betted against me?!"
Allura gave one of her rare, evil-ish grins. "I understand you more than you think," she said. "You weren't going to be the one to say anything, you're far too self-conscious. And you over-analyze your own relationships to the point it gets worrying. You weren't about to risk breaking something you held dear. So of course I betted against you."
Lance opened his mouth, then shut it and narrowed his eyes.
"Now, I'm going to take a trip to the supermarket," she said and picked up her purse from Lance's sofa. "We need more flour. Also, don't enter the kitchen until I return, I may have dropped all what we'd had."
Lance gave a little huff and crossed his arms. "I don't know if I want you to come back," he said. "Traitors aren't really welcome, you know."
"Yeah, yeah," was all that Allura said before she left the apartment. Would she see Hunk sitting in his car nearby?
It seemed suddenly a little too quiet. Only a little while ago, Keith's head had been full of questions. Now, he felt like he was trying to catch a runaway balloon.
"We baked some cookies already," Lance said. "If you want to eat some."
"What kind?" That was definitely not one of them.
"Peanut butter."
"Pass."
Lance looked scandalized for a second time that night. "A peanut butter hater?" he asked incredulously. "In my house?"
"It's more likely than you think," Keith replied, biting back a smile.
Lance grinned, and then it softened into something that made Keith look away.
"Hey." Lance was using the same tone when he'd been asking to kiss him.
"Hm?"
"If I like you and you like me--"
Keith snorted. "That sounds like the ending to that stupid Barney song," he said.
Lance hit his arm. "I'm trying to be serious here!" he said.
"Well, don't! It doesn't suit you," Keith said.
"If I like you and you like me, if the feelings there are mutual and all," Lance continued, though Keith was pretty sure his face was a little darker. "Is it safe to assume we're dating?"
"No," Keith replied. "It's never safe to assume anything." He was trying so hard not to smile, not to give himself away.
But Lance knew exactly what he was up to. "Do I have to ask, then?" Lance said, nudging him softly in the shoulder.
"Yes."
Lance cleared his throat as dramatically as he could. "Keith Kogane, you absolute jerk." Keith smacked him. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my boyfriend?"
"I don't know anymore," Keith said.
Lance faked a shocked face.
"I don't know!" Keith threw his hands in the air. "You're making me question all the decisions I made tonight! And I--"
Lance had taken Keith's face between his hands and squished his face so he couldn't talk anymore.
"Just say yes," Lance said.
"Yes," Keith managed to say, though it sounded more like 'yosh.'
"Good." And he kissed him again. And again.
And there was a little glow of comfort in knowing there would be more in the days to come.