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“How much iron is too much iron?”
“What?” said Hunk, looking up from his breakfast at the small human on the other side of the table.
“This cereal is fortified with iron,” continued Pidge, said small human, reading from the back of the cereal box. “What if I ate all of it?”
“Are you going to?”
Pidge considered for a moment. “Maybe.”
The door opposite their shared kitchen opened, fairly abruptly, and the two of them looked up with the readiness of someone ready to taunt a late-riser. Their comments fell short as they realised it wasn't their housemate. Instead of the lanky Cuban boy that made up the third occupant of their small flat, stood there was a pale, dark haired boy with only one arm in his jacket.
“Oh, er, morning,” said the not-Lance, before shrugging on their jacket properly and edging away to the front door.
There was a moment of silence that followed the door closing softly, Pidge with their spoon halfway to their mouth.
“Was that...Keith?” asked Pidge, turning to Hunk, who mirrored their incredulity.
“Why...” Hunk started to say, changing his mind halfway through the sentence. “What...”
“I thought Lance hated that guy?” said Pidge, returning to their cereal before it got soggy.
“Maybe they were just partnered for a uni project?” suggested Hunk, finally tearing his eyes away from Lance's bedroom door.
“And he stayed the night?” said Pidge, eyebrow fully raised.
“Yeah...maybe?”
“Don't be naive, Hunk, they clearly banged.”
Hunk spat out a little bit of his egg.
-
Lance didn't emerge from his room until a good couple of hours later, sporting some impressive bed hair and a jumper that had seen better days, the neckline looping down below his collar bones and the sleeves hanging down longer that his fingers.
“Morning,” he mumbled, voice a little bit croaky.
“It's 2pm, Lance,” said Pidge, still sat at the kitchen table, cereal bowl substituted for their laptop.
Lance turned to Pidge, coffee jar in hand with a look that definitely said 'so?'.
“I suppose you were quite busy last night,” agreed Pidge with a sly glance in Lance's direction, who was now spooning the coffee into his favourite mug.
“Busy?” repeated Lance with a frown, pouring water into the mug and stirring vigorously.
“Yeah,” said Pidge with a nod, pausing before continuing, “you know, with Keith.”
Lance choked, the freshly made coffee too close to his mouth and sending little splatters down his jumper and across the kitchen.
“What, er...what?” Lance managed to cough out.
“He left your room this morning,” commented Pidge, continuing her calm facade. “He seemed like he was in a bit of a rush.”
“Oh right, well, yeah,” Lance was now saying hastily, wiping coffee from his chin. “You see, he was round for-for a project that we're both doing,” he paused to wave a hand through the air as he gathered his words, “for a course we're both on.”
“Oh yeah?” said Pidge, wildly amused.
“Yeah.”
“Thought you two didn't really get on,” continued Pidge, enjoying the torment they were putting their friend through.
“No, well, he's a bit annoying but, like, I can put that to one side for the sake of the...you know...the project.”
“Right,” Pidge nodded, “I see.”
Nodding, Lance backed out of the kitchen, awkwardly shuffling back into his room and closing the door behind him.
Grinning with mischief, Pidge returned to the essay on their screen. “For the sake of the dick, more like,” they muttered to themselves.
-
“Hunk, may I come in?”
This was strangely formal for Lance so Hunk looked up with a frown, swivelling his desk chair around to give his friend his full attention.
“Sure, buddy, what's up?”
Lance sighed, a little too dramatically to be entirely sincere, and walked into the room before letting himself flop onto Hunk's bed.
“I have a...problem.”
Hunk waited for Lance to elaborate.
He didn't.
“Is this like a 'I have an essay due tomorrow and I haven't started yet' kind of problem or a 'I had sex with my arch nemesis two days ago and I don't know what to do about it' kind of problem?”
Lance groaned loudly at Hunk's ceiling.
“Hmm,” considered Hunk, rubbing at his chin with an expression that could only be described as thoughtful. “Have you talked to him since?”
“No, Hunk!” exclaimed Lance, a little wildly, “Of course I haven't talked to him since! What the fuck would I say?”
Hunk considered this.
“Do you want to...see him again?”
“I don't know...” sighed Lance, sitting up slowly. “Do you think it's stupid that I kind of...do what to see him again?”
“As a...friend? Or...more than…?”
“Oh stop hedging, Hunk, you know what I mean,” said Lance, throwing his arms into the air. “He's an annoying, surly emo fuck with a terrible sense of style and the worst haircut I've ever seen, and I don't think he's ever moisturised his face ever in his entire life.” Lance stopped here to take a deep breath. “But...also maybe he's really cute and makes me laugh and maybe it was the best sex I've ever had.”
“That's...slightly too much information, but that's okay,” said Hunk, taking a sip of the tea that had been sat on his desk.
“I need to figure out how to casually bump into him without it seeming weird...”
“Right, well-”
“But there also needs to be alcohol involved so it won't be weird to make out in a hallway without discussing it beforehand.”
“What the fuck, Lance.”
-
“That is entirely too much glitter, what's wrong with you?”
“It's Christmas, Pidge!” said Lance, “Have some cheer!”
All three of them were crowded in their tiny bathroom, carefully edging round Lance's various pots of glitter to reach the mirror (or the speaker that was perched precariously on sink in Pidge's case).
“Who's house is the party at? I wasn't really listening before,” said Hunk, using the mirror to pull his new festive bandana (curtesy of Lance, it had little candy canes on it) across his forehead.
“Er, just someone in my class,” said Lance, shrugging a little before leaning closer to the mirror and swiping more glitter across is cheeks.
“That sounds vaguely suspicious, but I don't care enough to question it further,” mumbled Pidge, the music suddenly stopping as they popped open the back of the speaker with a screwdriver.
“Shut up, Pidge,” said Lance, swiping the speaker away from them.
“I swear to God if you put 'Santa Baby' on again-” Pidge's words were cut off by a too-familiar bell ring.
“Saaanta Baby,” Lance began, shimmying his way over to their smallest housemate as he sang along to every word. “Slip a sable under the tree...for me.” Pidge squealed in rage, kicking out at Lance with their tatty old trainers.
“Hunk, stop laughing and get him off me!”
“Been an awful good girl-”
-
“- baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight-”
“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” grumbled Pidge, stalking off to find something to drink.
“Bring me back a drink, too!” Lance called to their retreating figure, the oversized green christmas jumper (it used to be Lance's) disappearing into the crowd.
“There is not enough space in this house for all these people,” said Hunk, his voice raised to be heard over Eartha Kitt.
“Yeah, we're never going to find Pidge again,” agreed Lance with an accepting nod.
The small living room was decked in hundreds of fairy lights, which was an aesthetic that Lance was wholly for in any situation, and the lights twinkled as the bodies moved and danced past them. Someone hung a string of tinsel around Hunk's shoulders as they passed, which Lance was objectively a little jealous of, but perhaps he had enough sparkles going on.
“Oh look, there's mulled wine,” hummed Hunk, pleasantly, making his way over to a corner of the room.
“Yeah, mulled wine and a pretty lady,” mumbled Lance too quietly for anyone to hear, watching Hunk wave an adorable little hello to Shay, a girl that Hunk had met on a very specific engineering small course that Lance had forgotten the name of. Shay was tall and graceful, and everything that makes Hunk's face do the soft smiley thing.
“Okay, well I'll just...mingle then...” Lance cast a glance around in an attempt to spot a familiar face.
With no noticeable faces to hand, a few minutes into his search Lance decided to just make some new friends, turning to introduce himself to the closest gathering of people to hand. Lance was amazing at first impressions, he had practiced in the mirror several times.
“Hey, I'm Lance,” he said with a wide grin, holding a hand out to the tall beautiful woman who had caught his eye.
“Allura,” was all she responded, her voice was soft and her eyes bemused, as though fully aware of Lance's intentions to lay the flirting on thick.
“Beautiful name,” said Lance. Names were important, Lance should know, he spent a long time choosing his own.
“Thank you, Lance.”
The way she said his name sent a few small shivers down his spine, the 'ah' drawn out a little too long. Keith did that sometimes, the thought suddenly hit him.
No. Lance had to stop himself physically shaking his head at that. Keith said his name roughly, like the word had got caught at the back of his throat and he had to force it out. That wasn't sexy at all, Lance decided (denied), focusing back to the situation at hand.
“So...do you know who's party this is? I feel like I don't recognise anyone,” Lance said with a laugh, forcing his posture to relax a little more.
“It's my party,” replied Allura, and her face did not look particularly amused anymore.
“Shit,” said Lance, he could feel a slight heat to his cheeks. “I really fucked that up, huh?”
Allura did laugh at that, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “Did you gatecrash my party, Lance?”
“No, no,” Lance hastened to clarify. “I know, er, Shiro?” Then Lance puffed himself up and tensed his muscles, doing what was probably the worst imitation of the man anyone had ever seen.
“Yes, I know who Shiro is, please stop doing that,” said Allura, mouth still quirked up in amusement, gesturing her hands along with her words.
“Sorry,” Lance huffed out on the breath he had been holding in. “Yeah, Shiro recently started tutoring me and he mentioned his Christmas party so I thought, hey, what a wonderful opportunity to meet some beautiful people.” He ended his little speech with a wink and finger guns, the way all sentences should end.
Lance's questionably successful flirting was cut short by someone who, not only knew who Allura was, but was also invited to the party by her. Lance decided he wasn't going to stand there awkwardly and moved on, drifting through the room whilst keeping an eye out for Hunk and Pidge. Also a drink, perhaps.
Once Lance had made it into the kitchen he spotted an overwhelmingly familiar face, attached to a body that was sitting up on the counter, beer in one hand, phone in the other. Antisocial bastard.
“Hey, Keith,” said Lance, voice a little too loud for how empty this room was.
Keith looked up, his bored expression immediately changing to one of purposeful indifference. He put his phone down, using the hand to push his hair out of his face. Lance wished he knew whether the action was for practical reasons, or because the other boy was nervous.
“Oh, Lance,” replied Keith, in that stupid croaky voice. “Hey.”
Lance made his way over, leaning his body against the counter a decent distance from where Keith was sat, who watched him warily. Lance knew that in that moment he had the chance to set the mood for their entire relationship, whether it be platonic or otherwise.
“I like your jeans,” was what Lance decided to go with, his heart thumping a little too much to be comfortable.
Keith looked down at his legs. “They're the ones I always wear.”
“I know,” said Lance with a shrug. “Doesn't mean you don't look good right now.”
Lance took advantage of Keith's silence, only rendered more endearing by the small 'o' his mouth had fallen into, and hopped up onto the counter as well, their thighs almost touching.
“You know,” Keith started, pausing to take a sip of his beer, clearly recovered from the momentary shock of Lance's compliment, “I always thought you hated me.”
“Yeah, I think I did too,” mused Lance, shoulders shrugging a little. “Turns out I just fancied you.”
Keith, to his credit, didn't spit out the beer in his mouth, though it was close.
“Who the fuck gave you the right to be this bold?” said Keith, after gulping down his mouthful and wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
Lance grinned at that, looking straight into Keith's beautiful dark eyes. “Sometimes you've just got to dive in head first.”
“Shit,” muttered Keith under his breath, before placing his beer down, shoving his phone into his pocket, and jumping down.
“What are you doing?”
“Come on,” said Keith, holding a hand out to Lance, his face set with determination.
“Sure, okay.”
Lance took his hand, letting himself be pulled off the counter and out of the kitchen. The party had become somehow louder and busier, christmas music still going strong and an abundance of tinsel on every surface and every person. Lance felt drunk with it all, despite the fact he had not drunk anything.
Keith led him upstairs.
“Are we allowed up here?” asked Lance, as the party faded away from them.
“It's fine,” was all Keith said, stepping over the small groups of people gathered on the stairs, never once letting go of Lance's hand.
He stopped his quick pace once they reached the upstairs landing, Lance bumping into him slightly as he stopped. Keith took advantage of this and turned around, slowly backing Lance into the wall. Lance could still hear the music from downstairs, muffled, and the bass thumping up through the floor and the soles of his feet, right up to his beating heart.
He remembered he was playing confident, letting a smile play at his lips before freeing his hand and hooking his fingers into Keith's belt loops, tugging him closer.
“Fuck,” breathed Keith, his face very close now.
“Yeah,” agreed Lance, winding his arms around Keith's lower back. “This okay?”
“I swear to fuck, if you don't kiss me right now-”
Lance tilted his head and let his mouth push up against Keith's, enjoying the soft gasp from the other boy, opening his own mouth and drowning in it.
Keith gently cupped the back of Lance's neck, pressing closer and closer.
“You're a fucking idiot,” said Keith into Lance's mouth, both of them panting a little bit.
Lance kissed him some more to shut him up.
“You want to come back to mine?” Lance broke away briefly to say.
Keith nodded, his nose bumping into Lance's, before lowering his head and pressing hot kisses to Lance's neck.
“I hate you so much,” Lance managed to say, his voice shaking.
-
“Hey Hunk,” said Pidge, poking their friend's arm to pull his attention away from Shay, the beautiful Shay.
“Pidge? Where have you been?” asked Hunk, his drink was being held at a fairly alarming angle.
“Doesn't matter,” said Pidge with a shake of their head. “But I just saw Lance leave with Keith.”
“Leaving? We've only been here like an hour,” replied Hunk with a frown.
“I mean, Keith's entire face was covered in glitter so I say we just leave them to it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Want some of this?” Hunk asked, offering his cup.
“What is it?”
“Er...I'm not sure...”
“Okay,” said Pidge, taking the cup and downing it.
-
“Should we stop doing this?”
“Hm?” grumbled Keith, clearly not listening.
It was morning, far earlier than Lance usually woke, but he had stuff on his mind, and a warm body pressed against his side. They weren't fully naked, at Lance's request; he wasn't entirely comfortable to be seen without his binder on so he had slipped a baggy t-shirt on and they both now had underwear back on.
In the light of day Lance's insecurities decided to reemerge.
He tapped a finger on the mattress, feeling a little restless. He wanted to sink into the warmth that another human body was providing, fall back to sleep in the arms of someone else, but part of Lance's brain was refusing to simmer down.
“You okay?” asked Keith, not moving from his position, his voice thick with sleep.
“Are you attracted to me?”
“Yeah.”
“Because I'm a boy?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, cool.”
That would do for now, Lance decided.
His main concern now was how he was going to get all the fucking glitter out of sheets.