Chapter Text
Lance had grown up competing. From the day he was born, Lance was competing for his parent’s attention or for a turn on the X-Box or for the last piece of bacon at breakfast. He had to do everything fast, fast, fast or he’d never have a chance at getting what he wanted. Everything was a race: getting the hot water in the shower, asking his mom if Hunk could sleep over before Veronica could ask her friend. Lance lived his life always half-cocked, ready to shoot off like a rocket if it meant he got what he deserved or wanted. He had to elbow and shove his way through life for anyone to spare him a second glance. Lance grew to be loud and dramatic, causing a scene so someone would fucking notice him. If any of his friends described him, the first word they would use would be loud and the second would be competitive. In this life, that was the only way things were going to happen for him.
Except for one place. On stage, with the judges staring intently up at him, the competitive adrenaline coursed through his veins but Lance had learned years ago how to beat that back with a stick so it didn’t throw off his routine. But when he’s at the barre or going across the floor, that competitive edge fades away into an intense focus. Each movement of his body is carefully calculated as he goes through his warm up, each step getting harder and harder as he goes. There’s a precision to his movements during tap that he lacks outside of the studio and when he steps into hip hop, all of his bravado melts into the a natural cool that he doesn’t usually tap into it. Dance has always been the place where he doesn’t need to compete. There was no need for him to prove himself because he knew he was good. Lance didn’t feel the instinctual need to be the best that he felt in every other aspect of his life because he was one of the best. Was that vain? Probably. Was it the truth? Yes.
He needed this though. He needed this one area of his life where he felt confident and knew he excellent. The rest of his life was shrouded in uncertainty and second place medals but when he got on stage and the music started playing, he could feel the overall high score award in his bones. Lance was always falling short academically- his tests were often marked with 78’s and C minuses while Hunk always got a big fat A- but when his teacher needed someone to demonstrate a particularly difficult step, Lance rose to the occasion.
The Castle of Lions dance studio was the one place Lance felt the most himself. It was the most consistent part of his life. He had been dancing with the people on his team for years now with only a couple of additions over the years. The studio was his home; these people were his family. His family was a constant pillar of strength.
So when he waltzes through the doors with the expectations that his Wednesday night classes would be the same as they always were, he is most definitely not prepared for the music he hears streaming through Studio A.
Lance often subbed in for other teachers so Allura had given him a key to get into the studio. He took full advantage of this and showed up to class half an hour early or more everyday to stretch or to just soak in the atmosphere. Readjusting his grip on his duffel, Lance snuck up to the closed doors of the studio. Through the small window, Lance could see Allura with her hair loose around her shoulders standing up at the front by the mirrors, a pleased smile on her face. He recognized the song, “River” by Bishop Briggs, but he most definitely did not recognize the guy dancing to it.
A short ponytail sat at the base of his neck and the guy’s white shirt clung to him, see through from sweat in some parts. Lance found himself watching the guy’s movements with rapt attention. His body moved with a comfortable fluidity, elbows and knees striking out on the down beats. There was a practiced ease to the way the guy used the studio space. He took full advantage of its depth, moving and rolling towards the mirrors and back. Lance watched as the guy slid over the floor, one leg coming up to snap over his head. He flipped over onto his hands, that same leg swinging out to arch over his head in a stunning attitude. Muscles rippled in his arms, exposed by the tank top and the black joggers he wore didn’t hide the tight ass or strong calves.
Lance was very flexible in a way lots of guys weren’t. This was not one of those guys. This guy seemed to be about Lance’s age, 17 or 18, and moved like he had been born in a dance studio. A bitter jealousy crept its way up Lance’s spine. This guy probably started dancing when he was 3 or 4; Lance started dance when he was 7 which was really late by normal dance standards. Luckily, Lance had a natural talent for this and an unwavering determination to be good. He struggled to push the feeling down and out of his mind. The guy’s movements stopped and a beat later, Allura was pausing the music.
“That was amazing Keith!” Keith. Now mystery man had a name. Keith nodded and walked over to what was presumably his bag and pulled a towel out of it. He draped it around his neck while Allura continued to talk. “I’ll have to thank Shiro for speaking so highly of our studio.” Wait this guy knew Shiro? This just isn't fair. Lance had gotten used to being one of the few guys at the studio and he couldn’t help but be threatened by Keith’s talent and connections.
Through the window, Allura caught Lance’s eye and internally he cursed. Allura was going to call him out for being creepy and he really didn’t want a famous Allura Altea lecture. However, in a surprising turn of events, Allura gestured for him to come in. Keith followed Allura’s eyesight and Lance’s breath caught in his throat. With sharp planes making up the contours of his face and unmarked pale skin, Keith was stunning. Fuck this guy, he really was coming for what Lance took pride in. Taking a deep breath, Lance entered the studio. He gave Allura a confused look and dropped his bag by the doors.
“Lance, this is Keith Kogane. He’s doing an audition to join our company.”
“In the middle of the season?” Lance couldn’t help but ask. Allura fixed him with a pointed look and an embarrassed blush crept over his neck. “Um, hey man. I’m Lance McClain,” Lance said to Keith, extending his hand towards him. Keith simply stared at his hand and Lance let it drop by his side awkwardly. “Okay then… What’s up Allura? I didn’t mean to interrupt an audition.”
Allura shook her head, walking back over to the speaker. “Not at all Lance; you actually have excellent timing. I was hoping that you would improv with Keith.”
“What?” Lance choked out, completely caught off guard. A quick glance at Keith told him he was having the same reaction and maybe he was imagining it but Lance could have sworn Keith was blushing. The red tint to his skin though was probably just from overexerting himself during his routine.
“During our normal auditions, I am able to see how everyone flows together as a unit. In this scenario, I can’t see how Keith would operate within our team. You encompass such a large part of Voltron’s style that this is the perfect opportunity to see how Keith would fit in,” Allura explained and Lance couldn’t argue with that logic.
He turned to Keith, hands on his hips. “I’m down if you are.”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I? Not if I want to be on this team anyway,” Keith sighed, voice resigned. Lance bristled but forced a smile on his face. He had to do this for his team. If Keith couldn’t flow with him then Lance wouldn’t be forced to interact with him again, or at least that’s what he hoped.
“No, you don’t,” Allura chimed in with a smile. “Now, does contemporary work for you two?” Lance nodded and saw Keith do the same. “Excellent. I’m going to put on a song and I want you to just flow with it. Get out of your heads, forget this is an audition, and just move. Lance, would you start us off?” He nodded, dropping down into a deep second position to stretch quickly while Allura found a song. He quickly went through his calves and hamstrings, he swung out his hip flexors, and he stretched up towards the ceiling to relieve some of the tension in his back muscles. It was irresponsible to dance without properly warming up but as long as he didn’t push too hard, he should be fine.
The thought made Lance laugh. He always pushed too hard, even when he shouldn’t. He was never very good at taking care of himself, especially when he was injured. He pushed and pushed and it took everyone yelling at him for him to sit out a class to rest his twisted ankle or pulled hamstring. With a nod to Allura, she pressed play on the song.
Lance couldn’t resist the smile that grew on his face as the voices of a choir rang out from the speaker. He’d always felt a connection to Sam Smith and the smooth, velvety tones of his voice always managed to put Lance’s nerves at ease. There was a bing in the music and Lance dropped to his knees. As Sam Smith began to sing, Lance started to move, limbs controlled by some higher power. He crawled out to the side, away from Keith was bobbing his head to the music, and rolled over onto his back. He continued moving, sitting up, then falling back onto the floor before pulling up his limbs one by one until he was sitting with his arms draped over his knees. His arms reached out in front of him as his knees swung underneath him and he collapsed onto the floor, arms still out stretched. Slowly, Lance pulled back so he was sitting on his ankles with his head tucked low. Cold fingers pressed under his chin, guiding it up so Lance was looking straight at Keith.
He snakes to the side, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist and using it to pull himself up to his feet. Keith wraps himself around Lance, pulling him up so the taller boy is leaning against Keith’s chest. Under his fingertips, Lance feels the infuriatingly soft skin of Keith’s face as they travel down his cheeks. With any other partner, Lance would have felt slightly insecure about something so intimate but for some reason, Lance doesn’t feel timid. There’s a feeling in the air like Lance and Keith have danced together for years when in actuality Lance has known this guy for maybe two minutes.
In this moment, it’s as if two puzzle pieces are clicking together. No one on his team had ever truly matched Lance’s style. Hunk and Pidge had come close and if Lance needed to partner with someone, he went to them in an instant but Hunk and Pidge danced much better together than Lance and Hunk or Lance and Pidge ever could. Yet, here, Lance felt like he had found his match. When Lance pushed, Keith pulled. Where Keith gave, Lance took. Sam Smith’s voice was white noise and the very feeling of the music had creeped its way into Lance’s mind. When he moved, he had no control. All of his movements were instinctual and Keith was right there to match them. Trust was heavy in the air and Lance knew with absolute surety that Keith would be right there to support his legs as he wrapped them around his waist, Lance’s chest on Keith’s back.
Time slipped away and became meaningless. They could have been dancing together for hours and it would have felt like minutes to Lance. Lance ducked and swerved out of Keith’s grip as Keith’s pale hands stretched out for him. While he couldn’t see the story they were making, he could feel it. In between them stretched the tale of Lance, a young boy who had complete faith in God, and Keith, the boy Lance loved. In moments of weakness, as Lance slid down Keith’s body to the floor, Lance gave into the unsure feelings and questioned his own sexuality. Keith would be right behind him though, ready to pick him up off the floor and pull him out of the darkness. Fear and love stretched between them as Lance and Keith moved and flowed.
Suddenly, their faces are close, close, close . Their breaths were mingling together and Keith’s breath was hot and panting on Lance’s face. Keith had a hand wrapped around Lance’s neck, keeping their foreheads pressed together. He can’t help the way his gaze drops down to Keith’s lips, the pink skin there bitten and chapped but still probably impossibly soft. To escape his grip and that dangerous line of thinking, Lance sneaks out from under Keith’s hand but not before his cold fingers leave chills down Lance’s spine. He can still feel the graze of Keith’s fingers long after that moment.
At one point, Lance caught Allura’s expression. She had such an awed look on her face and was watching the pair with rapt attention. It was probably how Lance looked when he watched her dance. Allura had been an inspiration for Lance for so long that being able to make her look like that while he danced made a warm feeling explode in his chest.
In a big sweeping movement, Lance flung himself back and he felt the muscles in his back pull in protest. For a terrifying moment, Lance was worried his back was going to give out on him and he would end up collapsed on the floor, possibly pulling a muscle in his back. He shouldn’t have been afraid though because just like all the other times, Keith was too him in an instant, hands supporting his back. Through no words at all, Keith and Lance lowered to the floor. Keith ended on his knees, Lance’s head pillowed on his lap.
Both boy’s chests were pounding and Lance knew a gross sheen of sweat was covering his skin. Keith’s forehead was shiny too though and his shirt stuck to his skin in some places so Lance didn’t feel too bad about the damp feeling on his arms. Keith’s eyes were wide, an almost wondrous look in them as he stared at Lance. Lance was sure he had a similar look in his eye. Distantly, he was aware of the music stopping, That feeling was still thick and heavy between the two boys and Lance found himself clinging to it.
This was why he danced. He danced for the story, for the feeling of satisfaction that came with telling it. He danced to explain his feelings when his words couldn’t and just then, he was talking about all of the things he had never been able to talk about. He was comfortable in his sexuality but dancing just then, with Keith, validated them in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Part of that came from the song Allura had chosen but a much larger part came from having someone to always catch his back- quite literally.
“That was… truly amazing to watch.” Allura’s voice cut through the moment, breaking the tension. Blood rushed to Lance’s face and he was suddenly quite aware of how his head was still on Keith’s lap. He rolled off it, coming to his feet. He held out a hand to Keith who took it this time, using it to stand up. Maybe it was his imagination acting up again but Lance could have sworn Keith’s fingers lingered against Lance’s.
“Uh, yeah. That was, um, … really good,” Lance said, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Keith nodded, shuffling his feet on the floor. Lance turned to Allura, a smile blooming on his face. “Now if I were you Allura, I’d let this guy on the team before someone else gets him.”
Allura nodded. “You are quite right Lance. So, Keith, what do you say? Would you like to join our team? I think you would make an excellent addition.”
Lance turned to Keith, an expectant look on his face. A corner of Keith’s mouth pulled up in the closest thing to a smile Lance had seen from the guy so far. “I auditioned didn’t I?”
Lance’s smile faltered. Ah yes, Lance forgot he had this charming side to him. Keith sighed and seemed to realize how that sounded. “Sorry. Yes, I’d like to join your company.”
Allura smiled and held out her hand and Keith hesitantly shook it. “Keith Kogane, welcome to Voltron.”