Chapter Text
Lance's POV
I'd seen the dude around, mostly hoped I could avoid him completely despite our obvious rivalry, but then came the incident. I am so not being dramatic either. I could've died. I mean, most likely not, because I'm not wimpy and stuff, but still.
I was on my way back to my dorm after my afternoon classes, minding my own damn business when his sharp shoulders completely invaded my personal space. He wasn't looking where he was going, I was walking quickly, and some sort of force canceled with another so I landed on the ground with my stuff everywhere while Keith stood over me with a blank face. I couldn't even see the expression in his eyes because of the shadow that was cast from the sun behind him and the hairs that dangled playfully below his eyebrows.
"Oh I'm sorry, did my existence get in the way of yours?" I asked. He had the nerve to scoff at me. I angrily pulled myself to my knees and tried to gather whatever had fallen out of my hands. It was just a few textbooks and my phone, I made a point to grab that first before the boy decided to be helpful. "Seriously, you'd think to use your brain, but I guess you'd need one in the first place," I shot.
"Please, I'm not the one still in Calculus BC," he snorted while picking up my last textbook. The edges were frayed and smashed from the multiple times I'd shoved it into my bag. Looking at it between his smooth fingers made me realize the small likelihood that I was going to get my deposit back on it. I glared at him in a way that I hope was threatening.
"I was runner-up valedictorian in my high school, so I think I'm smarter than you."
"Runner-up? You see, I won." He was definitely mocking me. The turn of his brow, the asymmetry in his smile, there was even a glint of challenge in his eyes still dripping in shadows. I stood completely and took the textbook from him. My bag was already stuffed full but I managed to push the textbook in most of the way.
"You know what Keith, give me one reason I should care." He shouldered his backpack calmly.
"Something tells me you already do, Second Place." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Next time you try to blame someone for your own clumsiness, try walking on the right side of the hall dipwad." He shoved me lightly away from him as a gesture of finality.
"Try walking on the right side of the hall!" I mocked toward his retreating figure. With a huff and a roll of my eyes, I continued my journey to my dorm.
Little thoughts bounced around my head like an endless Plinko machine. I remembered why I hated that guy so much. First, there was his constant arrogance. Plink. Then, there was his stupid thing where he was always a little bit better than me. Plunk. Not to mention his rudeness, plink, his ego, plook, his questionable fashion sense, plunk, or his goddamn mullet, PLINK.
Whatever, I just needed a cold shower and about three gallons of coffee with Red Bull shots. Maybe some vodka. It was going to be a long night of studying.
When I got to my dorm, I don't even know what I expected. Hunk laying shirtless on the kitchen counter cutting strawberries with one hand and twirling a whisk with another wearing a horrendously ridiculous hat with what I'm pretty sure was a Go-Pro, that was definitely not it.
"Umm..." I started.
"Lost a bet," Hunk responded without stopping whatever the activity was, he hadn't even glanced at me.
"I see," were the only words I could muster before all my attention went to the llama piñata that I hadn't noticed before. "And the piñata?"
"Pidge filled it with bagels, she wanted to have a surprise when she forgot what she put in there in a month or so."
"You guys are weird."
"You wanna know what flavor, don't you?"
"Naturally," I smiled and finally went to sit at the table while Hunk did whatever the mystery activity was. Homework could wait. "But tell me, what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm making strawberry jam shirtless, with a whisk, while laying on my kitchen counter in a funny hat that Pidge designed. I have to anonymously send the video to my culinary arts teacher when I'm done. Oh, and the flavor is blueberry."
"How on Earth does she get so specific," I wonder. Vaguely, I recall a bet I'd lost to the little fireball. She never did except just cash, it was like that was too easy for her. She liked to watch her victims squirm.
"She's a different breed," said Hunk as he began to transfer some goo into a jar.
"Like a chihuahua rottweiler mix on cocaine."
"Exactly like that." He tied a pretty violet ribbon around the top of the jar and admired his work. "Done! Why do I feel like I've accomplished a far greater task than the one that was set before me? Was it merely the weight behind the request? Or the destiny of the result?"
"With that kind of talk, you can write my English Lit paper for me."
"Is that the one for Professor Genoe?" He rolled off the counter and stumbled slightly before finding his balance. I tossed him a random shirt that I hope was his. Only when he slipped it on did he notice the peculiar rust colored stain near the hem. He sniffed it.
"Yeah, what's that stain?" I ask with a curled lip. My mom always taught me to remove a stain before it set, but that shirt was beyond saving.
"Dunno, I'm hoping it's not blood, or subconscious me has some explaining to do."
"That's where Jeremy went..." I laughed. Jeremy was our third roommate that was convinced Hunk and I were members of a cult and moved out without another word. We liked to tease that he had been apprehended by the cult leaders, that he had known too much, the council members concluded that his life should be terminated. It got to the point that everything was Jeremy's soul or long-lost cousin. Hunk laughed along before sitting down across from me.
"I heard that essay was going to be graded on a curve," he said, transitioning back to our previous topic.
"I hope so, I can't afford to fail," I told him sincerely. He looked at me kind of funny, I was rarely this serious about school topics.
"I thought that class was easy, didn't you have an A?"
"I did. I do, I just need to get a higher score than Keith."
"Oh God, seriously? What did he do?" asked Hunk. All too familiar with my rivalry with the mullet guy.
"He ran into me in the hallway, and for that, he will suffer."