Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Pick up, pick up, pick up, pi—"

"Keith?"

"Shiro, he's here. He said it," Keith replied in a rush.

There was a loud rustling noise on Shiro's end of the phone call before — "You heard it? You found him?"

"I guess?"

"You guess? What's his name? Wait, what did you say back? What did your words end up being?"

"My words?"

"Keith?"

"I don't —"

"Keith. You said something in return, right? Or did you speak first?"

"….No?"

"I really don't know why I let you go anywhere by yourself."

"Hey, I told you I didn't want to come to this training camp."

"That camp is a great opportunity, and you know what? No — I'm not having this argument with you again."

Keith huffed into the phone and glanced over his shoulder to where the coaches still remained in a huddle. As soon as they'd been released for a water break, he'd dug his phone out of his bag in order to quickly call Shiro to share in his panic.

"Keith." Shiro's voice rumbled in that same reassuring tone he'd used in the past to convince thirteen year old Keith that he was definitely staying with the Shiroganes from then on. That he wasn't transferring schools again, so it was okay to try out for the high school's soccer team. It was the tone that encouraged him again and again to try to make friends on the team. That same damn tone was the one that had convinced him that it was a good thing that he had been recruited for this elite training camp.

It was the tone of voice that Keith desperately needed to hear now.

Because Keith had just met his soulmate. And apparently he'd already fucked it up.

"I've already fucked it up."

"No, this is fine, Keith. You just go back over to him and say something."

"I can't just walk up to him and start randomly talking to him now, Shiro."

"Just don't say something super generic, like hi," Shiro continued as if Keith hadn't spoken. "Make it memorable."

Keith groaned into the phone.

"Compliment his shirt."

Keith glanced over his shoulder again, but this time it was to eye the tall and extremely handsome soccer player who'd approached him when he'd first arrived on the field earlier. Only, when the guy's eyes found his as well, Keith whipped back around to stare up at the bleachers.

"His shirt says 'Play the field', Shiro."

"Sense of humor. That's a good sign already."

"I don't think this is how it works. You're not supposed to choose what your first words are. They're supposed to be — natural."

"Wait, wait, Keith — Keith — are you secretly a romantic?"

Keith groaned again.

"For the love of all good things, just go talk to him."

"The coaches are calling us back."

"Go talk to —"

Keith stuffed his phone back in his bag and jogged over to where the coaches were beginning to call out names. It looked like they were splitting them into different groups based on their positions, and he watched as his supposed soulmate pulled on goalkeeper gloves and headed towards one of the goals with a coach and two other keepers.

The grief he felt at being suddenly apart from a stranger was new, but this did give him a bit of breathing room. Maybe he should put some thought into what his first words could be.

Or… he could get lost in the footwork and passing drills the coaches had him run through with the other players. Being on the field had always calmed him, and he relied on the familiarity, even if the coaches and other guys were all strangers, to help him relax now.

When everyone else was released for the day, Keith was kept back. Training camp had actually begun the day before, but he couldn't fly in until that morning, and the camp manager wanted to review the schedule, the map of the campus where they were staying, and hand over his dorm key.

Keith was jet-lagged and desperate for a shower. Oh, and still slightly overwhelmed from meeting his soulmate, who he'd had to watch disappear around a corner earlier when the manager had called him over.

He'd come to the fields directly from the airport, so he stuffed the schedule and map into his suitcase when he was finally sent in the direction of their assigned dorm building. When he found his assigned room, he briefly thought about knocking, since his roommate was likely already settled, but he refused to stand in the hallway weighed down by his luggage any longer than he had to be.

He unlocked the door and pushed himself into the room.

And then immediately froze when his soulmate turned at his entrance and smiled brightly at him.

"Hey, man."

Keith let his soccer bag slide off his shoulder and hit the ground.

"When I saw you arrive earlier, I actually thought you might be my missing roommate," the guy said with a chuckle, blue eyes bright and focused on Keith as he continued speaking. His hands were full of clean clothes, likely to bring into the attached bathroom for a shower, but he adjusted so he could extend a hand to Keith. "Sorry I didn't get to actually introduce myself."

Keith took the extra step required to fully enter the room and the door swung shut behind him. He let his hand be enclosed within long brown fingers and held on tight for the handshake, allowing himself a moment to just stare at their combined hands.

He thought he'd have more time than this to come up with something to say to his soulmate, and while this surprise gave him another chance at a more natural, spontaneous meeting, he quickly bit back the 'Uh' that he almost released. No way was he letting his first words be something as dumb and indistinct as uh.

"What school are you from?" Keith forced out a second later.

"Altea. You?"

Keith searched the other's face. His grin was still just as wide, blinding even. But his face was otherwise unchanged, as if Keith's words didn't mean anything.

Had Keith actually said the wrong words?

A few seconds later and his soulmate's mouth quirked in amusement as those blue eyes dropped down to their still joined hands. Keith quickly pulled his hand back, practically heaving his entire body back a step with the motion, leading him to stumble over the bag he'd already dropped. He was only saved from hitting the door behind him by strong hands grabbing his shoulders and planting him back on his feet.

"Whoa, you okay?"

Keith could feel warm tingles race across his skin as his face flushed. Hopefully this guy thought it was embarrassment from almost tripping and not the crushing disappointment that he had either found his soulmate and it was unrequited, or he'd actually said the wrong words and fucked up their first meeting.

How on Earth had he managed to fuck up his first words?

He nodded in response to the question, not trusting his voice.

"Okay, well, uh, I was just about to jump in the shower, but do you want to go first? You've probably had a longer day than me with travel, huh?"

Keith glanced at the clothes the other guy was already holding. "Uh, no. You go ahead. You're already…" he waved a hand helpfully "and I need to unpack some stuff." His voice was not shaking, despite the questioning raised eyebrow he received as the other guy's eyes searched his face.

The guy nodded before disappearing into the bathroom, and Keith forced himself to suck in some air when he realized that he had stopped breathing. His head whipped towards the bathroom when the door suddenly reopened and his roommate stuck his head back into the room.

"I still didn't manage to introduce myself. I'm Lance McClain."

Chapter Text

Even with the number of college soccer teams across the country, the soccer world as a whole still felt rather small.

Despite staring at him for most of the day, Keith hadn't recognized his soulmate as Lance McClain. The strikers garnered the most attention when scouts and newspapers discussed college soccer, but others were obviously watched closely as well. Keith had already received a few offers from professional teams who had scouted him at Marmora University.

And he'd often heard positive rumors about the long-limbed, agile, and eagle-eyed keeper from Altea: Lance McClain.

Their colleges were in different divisions, so Keith had never faced Lance before. But if this was an elite training camp, he suddenly wasn't surprised to find one of the top keepers within their ranks.

Keith wondered what it meant that his soulmate turned out to be a goalkeeper — someone he would typically face off against on the field. If Adam was here, he'd make a lewd joke about how Keith couldn't score with his soulmate on or off the field, while Shiro would waggle his dumb eyebrows in the background. And they'd both think that Keith screwing up his first words would be incredibly Keith-like.

He wasn't giving them the satisfaction of telling them. He'd figure this out on his own. Even if he had no idea where to start other than to flat out ask Lance what his soulmark said. And… people just didn't do that, especially with near strangers.

"All yours," Lance announced as he exited the bathroom, a wave of steam following him.

His long-sleeved, protective goalie gear had been traded for a tank top and… Keith's brain stopped at the sight of exposed glistening (and thank god Shiro would never know that Keith was using such descriptives, even if they weren't being said out loud) brown shoulders and long, toned arms.

"Keith?"

"Yeah, I'll shower," Keith forced out as he grabbed his waiting clothes and towel.

"I'll wait for you for dinner," Lance offered. "Since you're late to camp and have no idea where we eat," he added with a laugh.

Keith tore his eyes away from Lance's shoulders and hurried into the bathroom.

At dinner, Lance led Keith through the buffet line of their nutritionist-approved food choices, before directing him to a table where he was immediately introduced to Hunk.

Hunk was a center back from Lance's college team, and from what Keith had witnessed of him on the field earlier that day, what Hunk lacked in speed, he made up for in strength with kicks that traveled the length of the field easily.

Keith also learned that Hunk and Lance were best friends, and that both had been excited to be invited to this elite camp together, even if they didn't end up as roommates.

"Lance can take a while in the shower, dude, but it's not what you think," Hunk said with a grin to Keith. "He just uses way too many products."

"Hey!"

"I'm just helping you out, man," Hunk said with a grin and a pat to Lance's back.

"It doesn't feel like helping me out," Lance muttered back. "Plus, it's not too many…"

It was their obviously familiar bickering that allowed Keith to sit back and eat without letting his soulmate stress kill his appetite. However, when questioned, Keith shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the attention of the entire table on him. But he did reveal that the reason he was late to camp was because he'd been suffering through best man duties for the past several weeks and had been attending his brother's wedding.

Lance shifted enough in his own seat next to Keith that his arm brushed against Keith's before he launched into his own horror stories about being the best man for one of his brothers, leading the entire table's attention away from Keith and into laughter.

Other guys from camp, some Keith recognized from college games, had joined them until every seat at their table in the makeshift cafeteria was filled and guys were forced to begin sitting at other tables.

Keith was pretty sure, even though it was only officially the end of day two of this camp, that they were all flocking to Lance.

Lance slept on his back. Headphones covering his ears. Face smooth and relaxed in sleep. Hair soft on his pillow. Shoulders and collarbones exposed to the world because apparently Lance slept shirtless and the blanket only covered so much.

Keith did not release a content sigh at the sight of his supposed soulmate sleeping. He was better than that.

He did turn away to face the wall in order to put an end to his (probably) creepy staring at a near stranger.

The main purpose of this camp was the opportunity to play in the upcoming showcase, he reminded himself. Even though he had a few offers, the teams that had scouted Keith so far didn't feel like… it. Maybe it was silly to expect so much out of a professional sports team, but Keith was looking for a place that would feel like home. His goal with this camp was to have one more chance to be seen by scouts. One more chance to find the team where he was meant to begin his career.

The fact that his soulmate had been thrown at him the second he stepped on the turf?

One might argue that it meant Keith had made the right choice in coming here.

The fact that Lance didn't recognize Keith as his soulmate?

Keith groaned and wondered why parts of his life had to be so fucking hard. And then decided to do what typically worked when he had no clue how to react to something: duck and cover.

Literally. He pulled his blanket over his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

The soulmate stuff would work itself out.

Probably.

Keith twisted and snuck one more glance at Lance. Lance seemed to respond by sighing softly in his sleep before half his mouth twitched up in a half smile.

Keith yanked the blanket over his head and resolved to go to sleep.

"Kogane! Pass!"

"Pass!"

"Holt is open!"

"You can use your keeper!"

"Kogane! I need you to talk!"

Keith sighed in exasperation as he sat on the bench and chugged some water. Coach Thace had been yelling at him all morning. Nothing that Keith hadn't heard before, if he was honest. But he was one of the top players in the country in his age group because he knew how to play. He didn't need to pass. Or talk. He could move the ball down the field on his own.

He was pretty sure that after a few more days, the coaches would see that. And stop yelling at him. They were the ones who had invited him to this camp. They knew what they were getting.

Hopefully, the other guys here would stop giving him the side-eye soon as well. His former college teammates had left him alone after he'd proved himself on the field.

For now, he let his own eyes search across the turf until he found Lance in the goal, long arms stretched up so he could wrap his hands around the crossbar, as he casually shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. He was chatting with Hunk, who was currently starfished on the turf after the sprints they'd all just finished.

Lance had nudged his shoulder earlier to wake him up, and the first thing Keith had seen that morning were bright blue eyes, an impossibly wide grin, and today's shirt which read 'I'm a keeper'.

Sometimes, Keith's life really wasn't fair.

He half listened, eyes still pinned on Lance while a warm feeling filled his chest, as Coach Thace called out names to come with him down to Lance's goal, and was pleased when he was included in that group.

"Kogane, we're starting with you. One on two with Garret and the keep."

Keith's eyes returned to Lance with a new purpose and he found Lance already smirking at him. Keith smirked back as he accepted the ball Thace sent him. He waited just long enough for Hunk to get to his feet before he charged for the net. He pulled a turn to easily maneuver around Hunk and followed with a shot on goal. Lance's smirk only widened when his outstretched arm tipped the ball over the crossbar.

"Again," the coach called out.

Keith maneuvered around Hunk once again before pulling one of his own signature fakes, leading Lance to lunge in the opposite direction of where the ball landed in the net.

"Let's add another defender," Coach Thace shouted. "One more on."

"One moron!" Lance parroted back.

Keith bit back a snort.

With a lighthearted glare in Lance's direction for his commentary, a guy whose last name Keith thought was something like Beeboh, joined Hunk to guard the net. Apparently, both he and Hunk had been paying attention to how Keith operated. This time, Hunk corrected and forced Keith to actually battle him. And when Keith finally got past him, Beeboh was right there to steal the ball while Keith was still trying to catch his balance.

"Let's add an offender to help," Coach Thace yelled. "One more on!"

"One moron!" Lance parroted, grin cheeky, and Keith had to forcibly turn away so Lance couldn't see his own small smile.

James Griffin, a fellow midfielder who Keith had had to face often enough throughout his four years of college soccer to know that he enjoyed seeing the guy frustrated, partnered up with him at the top of the box.

Keith ignored Griffin's calls for the ball and worked his way past Hunk and then Beeboh, quickly picking up what their own signature moves were so he knew how to maneuver around them before taking another shot on goal.

He could practically hear the coach sigh from where he was on the sidelines, despite the fact that Keith had just scored again.

"Kogane, I want you to pass to your teammate. No shots on goal until you've passed at least once."

Keith pursed his mouth in frustration but nodded. He accepted the ball again and glanced at Griffin, who was now predictably glaring at him, before he began to dribble into the box. He maneuvered around Beeboh first and when Hunk approached, kicked the ball in a curve that glided around Hunk and landed at Griffin's feet.

He smirked as Griffin stared dumbfounded at the ball, but dropped the smirk when Hunk corrected and knocked it out of bounds before Griffin even touched it.

"Again," Thace called.

Keith sent his own glare to Griffin this time when they regrouped at the top of the box, but was greeted with Griffin leaning in close to whisper, possibly even in admiration, "I didn't know you could do that. Will you show me how later?"

Keith stared at Griffin's earnest face and wondered what happened to the smug jerk of a player who had once tripped him purposefully during a game and then called him an asshole when Keith was awarded a free kick for it.

"Uh, sure. If you want?"

"Cool. Do that again."

This time, Keith megged Hunk before moving around him and sent the ball in a curve around Beeboh to Griffin (who was ready this time). Griffin accepted the ball easily and took an immediate shot on goal. Lance blocked it, but Griffin still grinned over at Keith as if he'd just scored as he ran backwards to the top of the box to go again.

"Better," Thace called out. "Kinkade and Rolo, join them. Two passes before shots on goal."

Hunk took up more of a center position as Beeboh and Rolo flanked his sides, and Keith turned to Griffin and Kinkade to encourage a small huddle.

They'd broken for lunch and Keith found himself surrounded by the group of guys he'd been running drills with all morning. In the past, he hadn't spent much time with his teammates outside of practice. But here, he didn't seem to have a choice with the way he was practically herded through the buffet line and then back to the same table where they'd eaten dinner the night before. He swore he even felt Lance's hand on his lower back to guide him in line in front of him, but when he glanced over at Lance, he found him in a deep discussion with Hunk about petfinder websites.

"No, think about it," Lance was saying, already entertaining the group as Keith began to eat his chicken. "Like, what if your pet loves you and your home, but they hate your taste in music?"

"Oh," Hunk said, nodding sadly, "yeah. They'd have no choice but to put up with it. You're right, that is sad."

"Why are we dragging down lunch with some sad shit that doesn't exist?" Griffin asked.

"It's totally real!" Lance exclaimed. "Just because you have no empathy for your poor…"

Griffin rolled his eyes. "I have a fish."

"Oh, god, poor fish. Your music would echo in its tank."

"That's even worse," Hunk added seriously.

Griffin frowned and poked at his chicken. Keith sent a small grin to Lance when it appeared that Griffin was actually considering it.

Lance grinned back and bumped his knee into Keith's.

After lunch, and after even more drills, Thace and the other coaches broke them into two teams to scrimmage. Out of the three keepers at this camp, Lance was clearly the favorite, but Keith was still disappointed when they were placed on opposing teams.

Thace was still yelling at Keith to talk to his teammates, but Keith ignored him for now, and instead found himself paying attention to his new teammates in a way that he hadn't in the past. He watched Griffin try to bend the ball in a pass, and the way Holt would actually pass the ball back to him when he was pressured, and realized that Kinkade knew when and how to overlap with Keith to get into an open position.

And since they were constantly headed towards Lance's net, it gave Keith an opportunity to keep Lance in his sights more often. If the ball was in play, Lance's eyes were steadfastly focused on it. But he was also constantly calling out to his defenders with position corrections, and those long limbs and lightning fast reflexes meant Keith's team wasn't getting anything past him.

Keith knew it didn't feel good when your body hit the turf (there was no give with this artificial stuff compared to an actual grass field) but Lance made it look fairly easy to roll into a block and then pop right back up onto his feet.

And, as Keith stood waiting to take corner kicks, he watched Lance take control of the defenders. The authority as Lance yelled "Goalside" and sometimes even bodily moved his teammates where he wanted them on each of the goalposts stirred a deep heat in Keith's belly.

Enough so that he managed to kick his first corner shot completely out of bounds and back behind Lance's net.

Thankfully, he redeemed himself with the next one, sending it directly in front of the goal and allowing Holt to head it before Lance had a chance to correct for the angle. His teammates jumped on Matt for the goal, and when Keith got close enough, he was dragged into the circle of arms to celebrate as well.

He sent what was likely an apologetic look to Lance (something he'd never once done in his life when it came to opposing team keepers) and found Lance watching him with his own soft, half grin as Keith's teammates pulled him back to their side of the field.

Almost as if he enjoyed seeing Keith actually included in the team celebration, which warmed Keith for an entirely different reason.

So, yeah. Sometimes his life really wasn't fair.

Thace had kept him after he'd dismissed everyone else that evening, and with the amount of time that had gone by, it was no surprise that Lance was showered and changed when he returned to the fields and found Keith sitting alone on one of the side benches.

He plopped down beside Keith without a greeting and stretched long legs out in front of them.

"You're wicked fast, dude," Lance said after a few moments of silence. "And your footwork skills, I mean" — Lance blew out an appreciative breath — "I have no idea how you manage some of those moves while maintaining that speed down the field."

Keith peered at Lance when he stopped speaking, and couldn't help eventually asking, "But?"

Lance's shoulders lifted in false innocence. "What? I can't compliment my favorite roomie?"

Keith's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Lance ran his palms down his thighs to his knees. "You know, you play like you haven't had a team you could depend on. Like, you're used to having to do all the work? Carry the team? But, uh, this group we've got here… They pulled the best of the best, right? And we all want to showcase our best skills. I haven't seen anyone slacking here."

Keith swallowed as Lance kept his eyes locked on his face.

"It really seems like you could trust them. Trust us," Lance finished.

Keith blew out a breath and conceded a small nod before saying, "But… Thace doesn't want me to just trust everyone here. He wants me to, like, lead them out on the field. You know?" He glanced at Lance again and found an open face watching him in return. He pulled the captain band Thace had given him after practice from where he'd stuffed it into his bag and shrugged as he showed it to Lance before repeating what Thace had said earlier. "Talk more. Make passes. Lead your teammates."

"Wait, talk to your teammates? About a game we're all playing together? And give advice that could help us score and ultimately win? What are you gonna do?"

Lance's incredulous tone had Keith grumbling and turning away from him.

"It just can't be healthy to roll your eyes that hard, dude," Lance said, chuckling at Keith's expense before finally pushing lightly on one of Keith's shoulders. "Hey, man, Thace isn't wrong. You're our best midfielder, and being in the center of everything has its perks, like knowing who should be where for the best passes or shots on goal. Just — start by directing them to where you want them to be."

"You make that sound pretty easy," Keith said quietly.

"Plus, I always have a very good view" — his eyes roamed down Keith's body briefly, even as he said — "of the field, and I can help call out openings or suggestions, if you want? I mean, if they ever pair us on the same team."

Keith had been staring out across the field, but he met Lance's earnest eyes at the offer and could only nod in agreement. It sounded a little too easy, but he wanted this to work. For this team. For Lance. And for himself.

"Okay." Keith pushed himself to his feet.

"Wait, no compliments for your favorite keeper?" He tried for an offended tone, but Lance's signature wide grin betrayed him.

"You smell a lot better than me right now." Keith maintained his deadpan expression, despite how nice Lance's laughter sounded in response.

"I'll take it!"

Chapter Text

"Okay, ready," Keith announced as he exited their bathroom that morning and threw his bag over his shoulder on his way out their door. He stopped in the hallway and began digging through his bag (they all had a strict 'cleats live in a plastic bag so the stench is contained and doesn't kill them' rule and Keith wasn't in the mood to run all the way back to the dorms because he forgot to make sure they'd been added to his main bag).

Lance followed him out the door, and when Keith stopped, he maybe vaguely noticed that Lance dropped his own bag to the ground, but he definitely noticed when Lance's fingers suddenly began carding through his hair, fingertips running soothingly over his scalp.

"Whatcha doing, Lance?"

It was Hunk who asked the question (Keith hadn't even seen Hunk join them in the hallway) because Keith didn't care to ask why Lance's hands were in his hair, he just knew it felt nice.

"Hunk, buddy, this is a new level of bed head, never before seen by modern mankind. Keith needs help."

Hunk hummed as Keith felt Lance guide his hair towards the back of his head and then quickly contain it.

"Why do you have a hair tie?"

"Because I'm always prepared, Hunk!" Lance declared before picking up his bag again and leading the way down the hall without making eye contact with Hunk or Keith again.

Keith ran his hand over the ponytail Lance had given him and glanced at Hunk. Hunk's usually friendly face was pulled in a tight smile that wasn't doing much to cover the worry he could see in Hunk's eyes.

"You feeling okay today, Hunk?" Keith asked, moving to follow Lance out of the building.

"Yeah, no worries. Let's go do this."

Their coaches had invited a local team to scrimmage with them that afternoon, and after a morning of drills and discussions of plays to try, they arrived on the turf after lunch to find a slew of matching jerseys waiting for them for the game.

"These are really nice," Kinkade mentioned as he held up his jersey and looked to Coach Thace.

And they were, Keith noticed. They could've just given them all a basic t-shirt in the same color to wear for this friendly, but these were made of actual wicking material, white with two blue stripes across the front, and actual numbers on the back (it didn't escape his attention that he'd been given number 23, which had been his number through college).

"Do we get to keep these after camp?" Griffin asked.

"Let's see how you do today," Thace said, tone serious, but face smiling.

Keith traded his training shirt for the new jersey and turned to find Lance pulling off today's shirt, which included a soccer ball with a post-it note on his back that said, 'Kick me' (what constituted the back of a soccer ball? How was it funny when it didn't make sense?), exposing so much smooth, brown skin and toned muscles that Keith had to suck in a breath (Lance's stomach was flat but still managed to curve appealingly into his shorts, the biceps that allowed Lance to heave the ball across the field, Keith didn't even know he'd have a thing for appreciating someone's deltoids, but here he was…)

The spell was broken when Lance pulled on his new long-sleeved keeper jersey, which still had the blue stripes across the front but was otherwise an obnoxious lime green color. Lance adjusted the blue bandana he'd tied around his forehead, and then grabbed his keeper gloves before jogging off to one of the goals to warm up with the keeper coach.

Keith blew out a deep breath before begrudgingly pulling the captain band from his bag and joining the others as Thace called out who would be starting the game. It sounded like most of the guys Keith had had on his team in recent practice scrimmages, with the exception of having Lance as their keeper this time.

Griffin's gaze stalled on the captain band as Keith tugged it into place on his arm, but when his eyes rose to Keith's face, he only sent Keith a small nod before turning back to Thace.

The other team, the Violet Stones, arrived in their purple jerseys and as they began to warm up on the opposite goal, an annoying beat began to ring out from the sidelines. When Keith found the source, he scowled at the large bongo drum that was being dutifully handled by a guy wielding percussion mallets as he yelled out cheers that were answered by the three other guys who apparently made up this opposing team's fan section.

The boom boom boom lasted through the rest of their warm ups and Keith could feel his muscles tense almost one by one as it continued.

"Well thank goodness that's not annoying," Holt said dryly as he stared across the field with Keith when Thace called them in.

Lance nudged Keith with an elbow and then extended his hand into the air in front of them. He raised his eyebrows before sending Keith an encouraging nod.

"Hands in," Keith yelled, placing his hand on top of Lance's gloved hand and bunching in close while the rest of the team surrounded them and followed suit.

The game did not start well. They lost control of the ball immediately and the Stones managed to keep possession more often than they did. They weren't connecting their passes to each other. They weren't keeping their shape.

Plus, that damn drum. Did. Not. Stop. And every time they got close to the other team's goal, the drummer picked up speed and their small, but loud, group of fans began a loud chant of "Defense. Defense. Defense" until the ball had been cleared from their goal box.

When Keith's jersey was yanked and he landed on the turf, they were awarded a free kick and Keith grit his teeth against the drum noise as he took up position. He tried to signal to Rolo where he was going to send it without making it obvious to the other team.

Unfortunately, he didn't make it obvious enough to Rolo and the ball landed out of bounds before Rolo could reach it.

"Ooooh, did you mean to kick it that wide?" the drum guys taunted as the boom boom boom continued.

It was all made worse by the fact that Keith knew they could play better than this. Hunk, Kinkade, Beeboh, and Rax remained strong in defense, at least. They weren't wasting time dribbling, but instead consistently sent the ball back up the field. Unfortunately, their passes looked more like random kicks and they weren't landing to their teammates.

Keith could also admire Lance's blocks. He always appeared a bit fearless to Keith as he'd throw himself into the mix of kicking feet and come out the other side with the ball cradled in his arms, ready to send it back up the field.

The Stones managed to get it past Beeboh and when their forward crossed it in front of Lance and their goal, it clipped off Rax's cleat and bounced up to hit Hunk's hand.

"Hand ball!" the Violet Stone's fan section booed with accompanying drumming.

Keith groaned when the ref called the hand ball and forced himself to the top of the box with the rest of team, leaving Lance to face the penalty kick alone.

Rationally, Keith knew that Lance must've had tons of experience with penalty kicks given the number of years he'd been a keeper. Even now, he stood with feet spread, weight centered, and long arms out wide as he eyed the Stones' striker. But, irrationally, Keith hated seeing Lance pay the price for an unintentional error on their part.

And when his fingertips just clipped the ball and didn't stop it from hitting the net behind him, the chagrined expression on Lance's face lit a fire inside Keith to make it up to him.

And then the Stones' cheer section began their new chant.

"We just scored on you!

Bud light lime!

Bud light lime!"

Keith's hands bunched at his sides and he glared at the taunters as Lance jogged up to him with the ball, holding it instead of kicking it back to the center circle.

"You okay?" Keith asked.

"Yeah, dude, that shit happens," Lance murmured, leaning in close so he could be heard over the drums. "But we're playing kickball out here. They need to hear from you."

He met Keith's eyes with another encouraging nod and then sent the ball up to the center circle to Holt.

Holt passed it back to Keith and he took off with it towards the other half of the field, shielding the ball when one of the Stones approached. He glanced up the field to decide who had the best position between Griffin, Rolo, and Holt, and then finally began calling out instructions before sending the ball up to the corner. Rolo appeared right behind it, trapping it in bounds this time before he crossed it to Holt who was waiting in front of the goal. Holt took a shot on goal, but a Stones defender stepped in with a block, knocking it back out of the box and right to Keith's waiting feet.

He thought about passing it to a teammate, but he didn't see anyone open. He decided Thace would have to forgive him for not sharing this time as he took his own shot on goal and felt a sweet vindication when it hit the top left corner of their net.

Especially when the damn drumming stopped.

Holt and Rolo slammed into him in celebration as they made their way back to their side, and he got cheers from Griffin and the other defenders as they took up their starting positions once again. He shot one look back towards Lance and got a grin and wink in response.

The drumming began again, but Keith was ready with a small smile as the Stones put the ball into play. For as slow as Rolo always seemed to move off the field, Keith had seen him sprint on the turf, and he charged the Stones' forwards now to put pressure on them. When the Stones' player passed to get away from Rolo, Griffin intercepted and managed to steal the ball.

"Switch the field!" Keith called, noticing how the Stones were already bunching towards Rolo and Griffin, leaving the other side open.

Griffin shot the ball over the heads of those advancing on him and sent it up to Holt.

"Back," Keith called when the defenders switched and swarmed towards Matt. He accepted the ball from Holt and shielded it again while yelling, "Beeboh overlap!"

He waited until Beeboh was in position and then sent the ball to him, forcing the Stones to chase after it. With Beeboh up, Keith watched in his periphery as Hunk and Kinkade shifted to help cover the back. He felt himself relax further as he watched the team move together, keep their shape, and advance the ball towards the Stones' goal.

They scored again and then held the lead till the end of the game.

Lance would tell him later that his favorite part was when Keith accidentally and totally-not-on-purpose kicked the ball into the drums during another free kick.

"Do you ever think about how people used to smoke not knowing how bad it was? Sure, some probably suspected it was bad, but kept on smoking as years went by and scientists had to wait to see how bad it actually was."

Keith had stepped out of the bathroom after his shower a mere three seconds ago. He smiled as he listened to Lance's voice already fill their room.

"And now we're all, 'I can't believe people smoked like chimneys back then without knowing how bad it was.'"

"Why are you thinking about this?" Keith finally asked.

"Because, our grandkids are gonna be all, 'Can you believe they used to ...' whatever it is we're doing right now that's probably slowly killing us and we don't even know it."

"Cell phones."

Lance gasped. "You wound me, Keith. Don't kill my cell phone love. I'm about to beat my Shooty Skies high score. Besides — whoa, come here."

"Huh?"

Lance, who was already fully dressed after his own shower, jumped off his bed and approached Keith, quickly reminding Keith that he was currently standing in the middle of their room shirtless. The wrist sweat band he'd worn during the game had already been replaced with a black leather band, but otherwise he'd only managed to put on pants so far.

"That's some wicked turf burn on your shoulder. When'd you do that?"

Keith fought a flush as he felt Lance's fingers barely graze across the back of his shoulder, presumably on the outskirts of where the injury was located. "When that Stone grabbed my jersey."

"Damn," Lance hummed, "I didn't realize you'd hit the ground that hard. Hold still."

Lance ducked back into the bathroom and returned with one of the many jars Keith knew lived around their sink.

"I wear the long sleeves to help prevent turf burn, but when I do get it, this stuff helps."

"Oh, uh," Keith twisted his head to try to see where exactly the burn was.

Lance laughed. "I'll put it on, dude. Trust me, you can't reach."

Keith glanced at Lance's face, which was slightly pink despite the way Lance was steadfastly doing his best to keep his eyes on the jar he was opening.

Keith's throat clicked with his swallow at the first touch of Lance's fingers sliding across his skin. Now that Lance was putting pressure on the area, he could feel the burn on the back of his shoulder, but the lotion was a cool balm.

Keith was too distracted by Lance's fingers to be too concerned about the burn anyway.

"I don't share this stuff with just anyone," Lance stated, and it didn't matter if he was trying to tease because his breath was hitting the back of Keith's neck. "Just my favorite roommates."

There was no way Lance didn't notice the goosebumps that arose on Keith's skin, but he, thankfully, didn't comment on it. Instead, he finished up and then headed back in the bathroom, leaving Keith able to breathe again.

"Thanks," Keith said, aware that his voice was slightly strangled.

"No problem, it'll be on the counter if you need it again." Lance returned to their room and sat on his bed. "I mean, I can apply it to areas where you can't reach, obviously, but if it's like, your leg, or —

"No, I meant thanks for earlier, during the game? I think I needed that shove to step up and actually play with the team."

Lance smiled at him. "You're welcome. Though, you didn't just play with us, you did an amazing job leading us. It was fun to watch from where I was."

"Yeah, well, Thace was actually happy with me afterwards."

"And the win is even sweeter when we all earn it together, right?"

"Yeah," Keith said with a nod. "You were right before — I'm not really used to that team feeling."

Lance smiled at him again, gaze soft on Keith's face at first. And then Keith noticed those blue eyes dipping down. Aware of where Lance's eyes were traveling, Keith unconsciously (or consciously?) felt his pecs and then abs flex.

Lance seemed to catch himself, and jumped back to his feet. "If you're ready — I mean, once you put a shirt on — the other guys are probably ready? Time to celebrate the win!"

Keith: This is bullshit

Shiro: Um?

Keith: He's wearing a tank top again

Shiro: Soulmate?

Keith: Don't call him that

Keith: Not yet

Shiro: WAIT

Shiro: YOU STILL HAVEN'T TALKED TO HIM?

Keith: Wait.

Keith: Forget I said anything.

Keith: You're on your honeymoon. Get off your phone.

Shiro: KEITH

Keith rolled his eyes, feeling deep regret about texting Shiro. He glanced in the direction of where he'd last seen Lance and when Lance's blue eyes landed on him in return, he felt his chest fill with what was becoming a familiar warmth.

He swallowed and turned his attention back to the new text from Shiro.

Shiro: Don't think that we wont show up on that campus TOMORROW

Keith: We've talked

Shiro: And?

Keith sighed and spun his phone on the counter before replying.

Keith: No reaction

Shiro: Nothing?

Keith shrugged before remembering that Shiro couldn't see him.

Keith: Nothing

Shiro: You could just ask him…

Keith: No

Shiro: *sighs*

Shiro: So what is bullshit? What's wrong with a tank top?

Keith glanced at Lance again, thankful to Shiro for letting the other subject drop.

Keith: Shoulders aren't supposed to be sexy

Keith: Their job is to attach the arm to the body

Keith: But tank top. And dancing.

Keith: It's not fair

Shiro: Where are you?

Keith: We won a scrimmage today. So… group outing

Shiro: You mean team bonding

Shiro: You playing nice?

Shiro: Keith?

Keith: I let them drag me out to this bar tonight

Shiro: Keith. Just go over there and say I'm your soulmate can I please touch your shoulders

Shiro: And also your butt

Keith squinted down at his phone. Thankfully, there was another text before he could respond.

Shiro: Sorry. Adam got my phone.

Shiro: He's not wrong, though

"Oh my god," Keith muttered as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and glanced up to once again find brown shoulders shimmying in time to music that was loud enough for Keith to feel the bass in his chest.

Hunk was also dancing near Lance, as well as several of their camp teammates, plus a group of locals, men and women alike, who'd swooped in to join the soccer players as soon as they'd arrived. Keith noticed that almost everyone on the dance floor had their wrists covered in one way or another, the universal signal that they hadn't met their soulmate yet.

Keith had managed to avoid the dance floor, and had planted himself at the bar. But he consistently picked Lance out of the crowd easily. And the few times he caught Lance's eyes already on him had given him an indescribable thrill.

Some of the guys had tried (and failed) to drag him out to the floor, so he wasn't surprised when Lance seated himself on the stool next to him, and assumed he was about to do the same.

Instead, Lance snatched his drink and stole a long gulp.

Keith maybe watched the way Lance's throat moved as he swallowed and forgot to complain about the drink theft.

"Thank god that was water," Lance said as he set the now empty glass back on the bar and turned fully to Keith. "I'm guessing you don't want to come out and dance?"

For the first time in his life, Keith had the instinctive urge to agree to go out on a dance floor and actually dance in front of other people — all because Lance was the one who was asking him, and holy shit — this soulmate stuff was strong.

"I don't normally dance," Keith managed to say.

Lance made a disbelieving sound, loud enough that Keith heard it over the music. "You only dance with soccer balls then?"

Keith frowned, confused. "What?"

"You look like you're dancing when you dribble."

Keith ducked his head, doing his best to hide behind his bangs. What was he even supposed to say to that?"

Lance tapped his fingertips against the bar top. "Anyway, you don't look like you're having fun over here."

It was said without the judgment and annoyance Keith was used to in these situations, where he was expected to be social when he'd rather be away from the crowd. Lance's expression was innocently quizzical as his eyes scanned Keith's face, leaving him feeling a bit more exposed than he probably would've felt if he'd just gone to dance with the crowd.

"You want to get outta here?"

It was the last thing Keith thought Lance was going to say. His eyes darted to the dance floor and back to Lance before asking, "You want to go back to the room already?"

This was the first night they'd had without a suggested curfew, and Lance had been very excited as he'd gotten dressed to come out.

"Not exactly." Lance leaned sideways on his stool so he could glance down towards Keith's feet. "What's your shoe size?"

"Shut up, Lance."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Lance said through his outright chortles, sounding not at all contrite. "It's just — how is it possible that you are this bad at bowling?"

Keith glared up at the scoreboard. It was round six and he had a total of sixteen points.

Lance had forty-eight.

There was a toddler's birthday party three lanes away from them. Keith was pretty sure the four-year old birthday boy had knocked down more pins than he had.

"I'm aiming for the center!"

"Of our lane?"

Lance's dumb face was red from laughter. He was practically clutching his stomach.

It'd be more annoying if it wasn't so stupid cute.

"Shut up, Lance."

"Hey, after the third round I told you we could program it to put the bumpers up for you."

Keith grumbled as he collected his ball for his second try. He really didn't think it was his fault that actual bowling was so much different than Wii bowling.

"Wait, stop, I can't watch this again. Let me help."

And that was the only warning Keith got before Lance's hands were on his hips, pulling him backwards a few steps. A literal shiver ran up his spine at the contact.

"First, you're starting too close to the front of the lane. You need to leave yourself space to take a few steps. Then" — and here is where Lance nearly killed him by pressing himself to Keith's back before grabbing the forearm of the arm that was not clutching his bowling ball and pulling it back to what was an appropriate swinging level — "you need to lift the ball to at least this height to get the leverage you want."

Keith really, really tried to nod, but Lance was so warm against his back, and how in the hell was he supposed to be paying attention to words when Lance's fingers were so strong around his arm?

"Now we're going to take the four or so steps up to the front of the lane." Lance released his arm, but then physically leaned into him to prompt him forward.

Keith could feel his blush all the way to the tips of his ears. He was sure he had never blushed this hard in his entire life. He almost leaned back into Lance's chest, but managed to stagger forward a couple steps instead, sadly leaving Lance's warmth behind, and Lance shifted to the side to watch his movements with a critical eye.

"You actually want to lift the ball back to the height I showed you by the third step, and then aim for the second to the right arrow."

"Why not the middle arrow?" Keith asked. Speech was so much easier when Lance wasn't touching him.

"Was that working for you before?"

Keith gave Lance credit for the way he was clearly trying to bite back the smirk pulling at his lips.

"Okay, and finally, you can't just yeet the ball —"

"Yeet?"

"— down there. Release it by flicking your wrist and fingers up towards your head."

"Sounds like a painful release."

And, fuck, he should've kept his mouth shut, because Lance's eyes immediately darkened and he took the one step required to be close to Keith again.

"Do you need my help with that too?" His voice was lower than it had been a second ago and his fingers landed once again on Keith's forearm. Fingertips left burning trails down his arm before they stopped suddenly and Lance took an abrupt step backwards.

Keith blinked at the loss and when he glanced down at his own arm, he realized Lance's fingers had run into his wrist cuff. The very strip of leather that covered Lance's own words had spooked Lance away from him.

"You hungry?" Lance asked suddenly. The wolfish expression from before was replaced by Lance's typical friendly expression. "I'm gonna grab us some food. You can bowl for me after your turn. Get the extra practice in."

His smile didn't reach his eyes as he spun off towards the concession stand, leaving Keith slightly dizzy with the change in atmosphere.

He griped at himself to get it together, backed up a few steps to where Lance had directed him before, and tried to ignore how cold it was without Lance by his side. Still, he did as Lance had instructed and stepped forward, pulled the ball back, and released it while aiming for the arrow Lance had pointed out.

Six pins fell down. The most at one time since they'd begun that night. Keith grinned and turned towards the concession stand to see if Lance had maybe been watching. Lance was currently leaned on the counter talking to the attendant, so he was going to guess he had not. He decided against taking Lance's turn, and instead sat and waited, passing the time by watching the bowlers in the other lanes.

"Since we ate our nutritionist-approved dinner earlier, I'm pretty sure this is completely allowed," Lance announced as he returned with a tray covered in a large pizza, nachos, and two sodas.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how that works."

"Um, yes it is," Lance said, and Keith appreciated the small grin Lance shot him, "it's called balance."

Keith was pleased when Lance noticed his new score and congratulated him, while also patting himself on the back for being an amazing teacher.

Keith teased back and said it was all thanks to watching the form of some of the elderly bowling team members who had set up in the lane next to them while Lance was gone.

Lance stared flatly at him while methodically chewing a bite of pizza.

Keith smiled sweetly at him in return. And then saw Lance freeze mid-chew as his eyes darted to Keith's smile before he jumped up to take his own turn.

Keith did his best not to stare at Lance's form as he bent forward to bowl, but he's not a saint and Lance's pants were unfairly tight.

They were teasing, but it still wasn't as easy as it had been between them not fifteen minutes before, which had Keith realizing that it had been fairly easy to be with Lance since the very beginning. Keith was more than willing to give the credit of their friendship to Lance just being himself. And as much as he wanted to dispel the sudden awkwardness between them, he wasn't sure how, short of ripping off his soulmark cover and shoving it in Lance's face to see if he recognized his own words branded on Keith's skin.

There was loud cheering from the nearby birthday party (the kid rolled a strike, but Keith could clearly see that not only was he using the bumpers but also a ball roller in the shape of a giant plastic dinosaur), the teenagers who had taken over the lane next to them were currently wrestling with each other over control of the computer, and the elderly bowling team wasn't necessarily loud, but their large fan base was cheering as if this was the Olympics.

Although Keith had appreciated that it felt a bit intimate with just Lance in their lane, this place was still very loud and crowded. This was not the place to share his soulmark with Lance. What if Lance still had no reaction? What if all Keith managed was to embarrass himself in this public place? (And then he'd still have to go back to the room he shared with Lance). Or what if Lance's soulmark was a phrase that Keith would never say? Keith knew Lance well enough now to know that he didn't want to face this being one of those rare, unrequited soul bonds. He liked Lance.

Oh god, he liked Lance.

"You're up," Lance announced, returning to their seats and expertly scooping up some nachos without losing any of the toppings. "Let's see if the hunted can become the hunter!"

He only knocked down eight pins total on that turn, but the ball stayed away from the gutter and Keith was counting it as win. He was counting the high-five and Lance's smile upon his return to his seat as a win as well.

They went back and forth with their turns, the awkwardness slowly trickling away and making it easier for Keith to just breathe. At the end of the game, Lance's score was still ridiculously higher than Keith's, but Lance offered additional bowling lessons in the future from the Sharpshooter —

("I'm not calling you that, Lance."

"Hey! Those bowling team members all had really cool nicknames on the back of their shirts and that would be mine! Don't worry, I'll come up with something better than 'gutter lover' for your nickname.")

— and even bumped purposefully into him a few times as they freed up their lane for the next group and carried the remainder of their food over to a booth to finish eating.

They talked about how old they were when they began playing soccer, and the best games they'd ever had. Lance told him how he was a striker when he was younger —

("Another example of my awesome sharpshooter abilities!"

"Sure, Lance."

"But then I grew, like, eleven inches in high school and my coach threw me in goal.")

— before seamlessly switching to non-soccer topics, like Lance's current worry that he had no idea what to buy his nephew for his upcoming birthday.

Luckily for Lance, Keith knew he had the perfect gift idea.

"Wait, you think I should give him a knife?"

"Yeah, like, a small one," Keith said with a determined nod.

"You think I should give my nephew a small knife?"

Keith nodded again with a straight face. "Oh! You can get the handle engraved."

"Okay, but what if he's an eight year old who is not into knives?"

"Sounds fake."

Lance snorted.

"They also sell some nice stands, so it could sit on display."

Lance sighed audibly, as if exasperated. Keith still thought Lance's smile looked a bit fond.

"If you don't think he'd be interested in a regular knife, you can get him a pocket knife," Keith said with a shrug, as if he wasn't internally preening for amusing Lance. "They come with extra tools, like a bottle opener."

"Again, eight years old."

"And scissors."

"So he can run around the house with a pointy knife and scissors? My brother will disown me," Lance groaned, though the smile remained on his face.

"Tell your brother it's a nail file?"

Lance tried to bite back his smile as he slowly shook his head.

"You could also wrap the knife with paper, but, you know, wrap it in a way so it still looks exactly like a knife? That'd be funny."

"You're killing me, Keith."

But Keith noticed that for someone who was dying, his voice was affectionate and his cheeks were pink-tinged with mirth. It wasn't the heated aura of before, but Lance's smile was sincere again, and Keith felt relief as they joked their way back to their dorm room that night.

Chapter Text

"Penalty kicks are taken from a distance of twelve yards away from the goal," Pidge read from her phone.

Keith wasn't sure why Lance's friends were taking over their room, or how the tiny one had managed to settle herself so comfortably at the foot of his bed, but she was small and he found that he didn't really mind scrunching himself up by the headboard to read. Lance stood at the end of his own bed, where he was currently folding and organizing his laundry around where Hunk's legs were resting from his own sprawled position over there.

"The strongest shooters can kick up to eighty miles per — holy shit, seriously? Eighty miles per hour?" Pidge's eyes shot over to Keith. "Can you kick that fast? Is that the level you guys are at now?" she continued without waiting for a response. "Because if it travels at eighty miles per hour, it'll reach the goal line in five hundred milliseconds." Pidge's eyes returned to her screen. "And this says it takes a keeper six hundred milliseconds to move from the center of the goal to one of the posts. That makes it sound like a goal is basically guaranteed on those penalty kicks."

"Gee, Pidge, this isn't the sort of motivational speech I think I was looking for," Lance said with as close to a glare that Keith had ever seen off the field.

He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips.

"We're not kicking that fast," he said, turning his attention to Pidge.

"Yet," Lance added with a small smile on his face as he glanced at Keith. Hunk nudged a foot into one of Lance's hands, and Lance scowled at him as he dropped a sock.

Keith warmed at Lance's implication about his future talents and looked back to Pidge. "Yet."

Thunder from the storm that had forced them all inside seemed to rattle their old dorm window. They could play on the turf in just rain, but it was the lightning that forced them to give it up today. The coaches had them in the weight room that morning, followed by foot drills inside one of the available spaces in the gym. When the storm continued to rage, they were all sent to do as they pleased for the rest of the day.

"Still, seems like the kicker should be farther away from the goal to make it a bit more fair," Pidge murmured as she continued to scroll. She'd been introduced as Matt Holt's little sister, although they also described how she'd become friends with Hunk and Lance in college, and with all of that added together, Keith was sure she'd been to her fair share of soccer games in the past.

"Yeah, if they could kick a penalty from the center circle, I'd be down for that," Lance grinned.

"I could help you," Keith interjected.

"That'd be great, Keith, but pretty sure only the goalie is allowed in —"

Keith rolled his eyes. "No, I know. But, I was watching that Stones kicker on his PK. It's pretty similar to my own PK maneuver. If you could read the opposing player, it could give you head start when you have to face them."

Lance's smile was as wide as ever as he nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Oh! This one!" Hunk suddenly sat upright on Lance's bed and turned the laptop he'd been scrolling through for the past half hour around for everyone to see.

"Nooo," Pidge groaned and scrunched herself even further down on Keith's bed so her knees were blocking her view of the laptop screen. "You're the only one who likes that one."

"Lance likes it too," Hunk insisted. "What about you, Keith? You've seen this right?"

Keith squinted at the screen. "I… don't know what I'm looking at."

Pidge cackled from behind her knees.

"Just watch, you'll be hooked in no time," Hunk assured him. "Its famous people hidden behind these strange costumes so you have to go by their voices and some clues to try to guess who they are."

Lance threw the rest of his clean clothes on top of his dresser and plopped down on his bed next to Hunk excitedly. Keith still wasn't sure he wanted to watch whatever show this was, but he was fine with watching Lance throw a fit when the clues were contradictory, or laugh when the judges were completely wrong in their guesses.

Lance also ticked off on his fingers who had been revealed so far and his smirk only grew when he watched Keith's blank stare at most of the names. Keith glanced down at Pidge who simultaneously shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes again.

"Last week it was La Toya Jackson."

"Oh, I know that one," Keith said.

"So your pop knowledge is from the eighties, good to know," Lance teased.

Keith threw his book at him.

Lance squawked when it hit him. Hunk grabbed the back of Lance's shirt when he tried to get up to retaliate and yanked him back into his seat. Lance pointed two fingers at his eyes and then over to Keith and mouthed, 'I know where you sleep.'

Keith smirked in response, but then glared when Lance shoved Keith's book between himself and the wall to make it clear he wasn't about to hand it back over. He tried for a more menacing look as he slid his legs over the side of the bed as if he was about to cross the room to retrieve it.

Lance's eyes dropped down to Keith's legs when he shifted position, before slowly rising up Keith's body. Keith's fingers itched to reach out and wrap around Lance's waist. He wanted to pull him away from his book, but he'd likely end up in Lance's lap with the maneuver…

His own eyes met Lance's and he found darkened blue eyes watching him. Lance licked his lips and Keith definitely tracked the movement. It had taken all of ten seconds and they weren't even touching this time, but the heated atmosphere of the bowling alley was back.

But before Keith could make a decision about moving, Hunk yanked the book from behind Lance and tossed it back to Keith, all while keeping his eyes on the strangely disguised celebrity who was currently performing. 

As Keith caught the book, Lance didn't complain as he was expecting. Instead, he ducked his eyes back to the screen and released a slow breath while repositioning himself on the bed to see better.

Another roll of thunder shook Keith out of his own thoughts and he pulled his legs back up on his bed and settled against his pillows, determined to read and not think about the blue of Lance's eyes or how good Lance would likely feel under his hands.

They skipped the caf breakfast options and ate some food they had stored in their room so that they could have some open turf time before everyone else arrived. And as they left their building and walked across the campus to the fields, Keith realized that it was always in the earliest part of the morning that Lance didn't fill the space with chatter. Instead of sharing whatever thoughts he had, he seemed to prefer silence and wide (adorable) yawns while he stretched and woke slowly.

So it was Keith's voice that interrupted their quiet morning after Lance had pulled off his hoodie and threw it on top of his bag.

"Nice shirt. Appropriate for this."

Although lazy, Lance's smirk still grew as he glanced down at his 'My goal is to deny yours' shirt before focusing on Keith.

"I knew you liked my shirts."

"Like is sort of a strong word," Keith said, lying through his teeth because he definitely did enjoy Lance's dumb shirts.

"I'm going to the find the perfect shirt for you."

"Please don't."

"We can be shirt buddies, Keith."

"Are you ready to get started?"

Lance chuckled as he pulled his gloves on. He rolled his neck as he walked to the goal and planted himself in front of the net.

Keith dribbled out to the PK line and waited for Lance to finish a few more neck rolls and toe-touches before he began to speak.

"I'm just going to try to make a shot first, then tell you what I did."

"What makes you think you'll make this one?" Lance's smile was wider now, he was visibly more alert than before. It was like watching a sun reach its daily potential.

"Ready, Keep?"

Lance's arms went out to his sides for moment before he nodded and repositioned them in front of himself. His lips pursed as his eyes focused on Keith, a steely eyed look that Keith recognized as his game face.

Keith took a few steps back, and as he stepped back to the ball, he was reminded of the few steps Lance had encouraged when they'd bowled the other night. Before he got too distracted by that memory, he took the shot, and watched it hit the net when Lance lunged in the opposite direction.

Lance scowled as he pulled the ball out with his foot and kicked it back to Keith. "Okay," he sighed. "Spill your secrets."

"I don't look down at the ball or my feet at all. Instead, I stare at the keeper to try to force them to keep eye contact with me so they won't look down at my feet either."

He took a few steps back again and moved slow motion towards the ball, keeping his gaze locked on Lance's blue eyes. He watched Lance's brows crease slightly at the forced eye contact as a noise of recognition escaped him.

"Really, I'm just doing a step over, which you know is a pretty basic trick move with my feet, but I sell it to the goalie by directing my shoulders in one direction while my feet move in the other. And since you're keeping eye contact, you only see my shoulders move, and you lunge in the wrong direction. Instead, always watch my feet."

Keith backed up again to take an actual kick this time, and he repeated what he'd done earlier. He tried to force the eye contact again, but Lance had his eyes pinned on Keith's feet. And the small pull at the side of Lance's mouth while he watched grew to a full smile when he leaned in the correct direction and easily hit the ball away from the net.

"Like that," Keith said with his own smile.

They continued with penalty kick practice until Lance was blocking most of Keith's shots. Then Lance tossed him his keeper gloves and Keith took a turn in goal as Lance practiced PKs.

Which is how the team found them — Keith throwing himself dramatically across the goal and Lance missing easy shots because he was laughing too hard to kick properly.

Thace announced that he'd invited another team for a scrimmage that morning — the ZH Crushers — and Keith's head perked up because this one of the teams who had made him an official offer to join them. He had never officially seen them play (had only seen video clips), and as Thace added that it was also one of the teams who were also coming that weekend for their official showcase, Keith supposed he could treat these games like preview games to help make his decision.

Thankfully, this team didn't include a drumming, heckling fan section, so that was already a point in their favor.

Keith's high from working with and then joking with Lance on PKs was only enhanced when their team took possession of the ball fairly quickly in the game, and then scored within the first five minutes. That was definitely a point against this team.

He could hear the grumbles from the guys they were up against and the shouting from the Crushers coach as he jogged back to their side of the field for the next kickoff. He allowed himself a half smile in Lance's direction, and received a wide Lance-grin in return.

But Keith's good mood was demolished a few minutes later as the other team crowded into their goal box. Keith remained at the top of the box, constantly shifting from one spot to another to be readily open for any of his defenders to pass the ball up to him. He could see Griffin nearby doing the same, adjusting as Keith moved to keep their shape and remain open.

A Crusher eventually had an opening and took a shot on the goal, one that had Lance throwing himself to the turf to block before he wrapped his upper body around the ball. And while that is the official signal for keeper possession, and the opposing team should've backed off, another one of their offensive players attempted to kick the ball anyway.

His foot connected with Lance's hand and Lance immediately fell to his back with a curse that Keith could hear even with how far away he was. And then, the asshole player still tried to take another shot, despite Lance's steel grip as he clutched the ball to his chest and the ref blowing her whistle. Watching it all happen felt like slow motion, so it was a bit of a surprise when he ended up right beside Lance only a moment later. Lance's eyes were squeezed shut as he finally released the ball and then clutched his hand close to his chest and cursed again.

"Let me help get the glove off," Keith murmured, barely conscious of his teammates crowding around them or of the referee and Coach Thace approaching.

Lance's eyes opened at Keith's voice and he slowly pushed himself upright to sit as Keith gently removed the glove. Lance's hand wasn't the worst case scenario Keith had pictured in his head, but it was red and already slightly swollen. He gently ran his fingers near an area that looked suspiciously like a cleat indent and cursed under his breath.

"Alright, Lance, lets get you off the field," Thace said, offering a hand to Lance's uninjured hand to help pull him up.

Keith watched as Lance walked off the field with Thace, and then turned with fire in his eyes to the offensive player. The ref was currently speaking to him about the foul and Keith wanted to wipe the gloating smirk right off the guy's smarmy face.

He glared as he jogged into position for the free kick from their replacement goalie. And he paid attention (for once) as the guy's teammates called out to him to learn that his name was Lotor, because of course it was. Lotor was another player Keith had heard of over the years but had never faced. Most reports were of his unnecessarily aggressive plays, and clearly that reputation hadn't kept him from being picked up by a team. That thought alone knocked the team down a few more pegs on Keith's list of possibilities for his future.

Keith continued to glare no matter where he was on the field. He could control his breathing if he or one of his teammates had the ball. But if the ball went anywhere near Lotor, he immediately saw red and would end up barreling across the field to steal it from him. It didn't matter if he was in Hunk's space or if Beeboh tried to call out that he had it. He practically shoved his way in front of Griffin when Lotor tried to get away from him by switching fields, and he gunned for him when the opposing keeper tried to punt the ball towards Lotor. Even when the opposing team caught on and stopped trying to pass to Lotor, Keith was there, repeatedly, stealing the ball and in general pissing the guy off.

He couldn't deny Lotor's clear frustration was feeding that righteous fire he could feel under his skin.

When the whistle was blown for halftime, Keith jogged to the side with everyone else, but was intercepted before the group huddle by Lance with a hand to his chest and a stern look in those blue eyes.

"Hey, man, you have to cut it out."

Keith responded by glaring down at Lance's now bandaged hand.

"This will be fine by tomorrow." He waved the hand dismissively in front of himself. "And, listen, count me as once again impressed by your speed and your ability to steal a ball aggressively while not getting a foul called — seriously, the guy even dropped on that last one and the ref still didn't call it — but you gotta stop. By not staying in your position, you're getting in everyone else's way and you're not there when they need to pass to you."

Keith sighed, feeling the desire to avenge fizzle. He lifted his gaze up to Lance's eyes and nodded.

"Good." Lance appeared actually relieved and he swung an arm around Keith's shoulders, a move Keith was becoming fairly accustomed to, and directed him over to the group huddle.

Thace watched them approach with a considering eye, and Keith supposed their coach knew what they had just talked about because he didn't bring it up to Keith himself during the halftime talk.

Keith focused on Thace's remarks for second half plays, and missed the worried look Hunk shot Lance, as well as the reassuring pat Lance gave to Hunk's shoulder.

When Keith got out of the shower that evening (after their win), he found Lance dressed, sitting on the edge of his own bed, and scrolling through his phone. His head popped up when Keith reentered the dorm room and Keith was stuck frozen for a moment when Lance grinned at him.

"Put real clothes on," Lance commanded.

Keith glanced down at his t-shirt and track pants. "But… these are my slumming pants."

Lance's mouth twitched. "Stop pouting and put real clothes on for dinner."

Without a word, Keith went to his dresser and began to dig through the clothes he had. He glanced at Lance, whose attention had returned to his phone, and considered Lance's jeans and button down before pulling something similar.

"Is there a reason we're getting actually dressed for the caf?" Keith finally asked as he was pulling on his shoes.

"Not going to the caf," Lance murmured as his phone chimed. "Aaaand our ride is here."

Keith grabbed his wallet as he followed Lance into the hall. "Ride?"

"Well, it's too far to walk, even for someone with legs like yours."

"What's wrong with my legs?"

Lance swung an arm around Keith's shoulders to pull him in closer as he chuckled.

"Pretty sure your soccer thighs could kill a man."

Keith's initial reaction was to protest that no one could kill someone else with their thighs alone… But then he was hit with the thought of soft brown hair tickling the inside of his legs, which led to another thought of just exactly why Lance's head would be anywhere near his thighs, and his mouth snapped shut.

He glanced at Lance, despite the fact that his own face was surely a deep red at this point, and with Lance's face so close since his arm was still around Keith's shoulder, it wasn't hard to see that Lance was watching his expression closely, a small grin pulling at his mouth. But, surely, Lance was not thinking the same thing Keith had been thinking…

They separated at the door and Lance led them down to a waiting car, pulling the back door open for Keith before he followed behind.

"Wait, Hunk's not coming?" Keith asked as the car began to pull away. He saw a brief flash of guilt cross Lance's face before Lance swallowed and shot him a small smile.

"Nah, he's busy."

Keith couldn't imagine what Hunk could be busy doing, but didn't question Lance further about it. He watched as they drove off the college campus and away from the colonial houses surrounding it before they reached the larger buildings that made up this town's tiny downtown area. They were dropped on a corner and Keith offered to order the ride back later that night.

Lance only shrugged happily as he spun on his heel to turn in a circle and look at their surroundings. The sun was still setting, casting a golden glow across his already golden face and Keith stood entranced until Lance grabbed his arm and excitedly pulled him to a nearby restaurant.

"They have beer flights we have to try," Lance said as they were led to a small booth near the bar. "And I read that they have tavern burgers. I don't even know what that is, but I need one."

Keith hadn't even been aware of how hungry he was until the heavenly grilled meat smell hit him from the nearby kitchen. The food choices in their daily caf meals were healthy and they tried to be delicious, but they were never the red meat they were most certainly about to inhale tonight.

He followed Lance's lead and ordered the tavern burger, and then sat back on his side of the booth, feeling both at peace and comfortable, especially as Lance launched into a story about how their Uber driver's car was very similar to his first car, which apparently had been both an embarrassing and scarring experience.

"Okay, but you're still saying you got a car handed to you when you turned sixteen."

"You're seriously not listening. It was a hand-me-down car, Keith. Do you know what that means?"

"You didn't have to work and save and pay for it yourself?"

"Oh, I paid for it. Listen" — Lance straightened in his seat and began waving his hand around, despite the bandage (not that Keith was surprised) — "I'm the youngest of five kids, and that car just got worse and worse through each McClain sibling. At one point, my brother had to use a screwdriver in place of the clutch. But do you think my parents bought a new car?"

"I don't know," Keith deadpanned, "did your parents not buy you a shiny new car?"

"They dumped money into that rust bucket to fix it!" Lance exclaimed, ignoring Keith's snark. "I bet they spent more money just to fix it than they would've spent on just another used car."

Their waiter arrived and deposited both their plates before promising to be back with the flights next.

Keith shoved a fry in his mouth and stared flatly at Lance. "Free. Car."

"It had wood paneling. Peeling wood paneling."

"You poor baby."

"And one of the back doors wouldn't open!"

"Oh, so all your friends had to climb in on just one side?"

Lance bit back a smile.

"The entire car rocked every time we changed gears!"

"Rocked? What exactly were you doing?" Keith knew his grin was coy, and it was worth it for Lance's response.

"Nothing!" Lance's eyes were wide and his face turned pink and he quickly took a large bite of his burger as a distraction.

"Have you thought about joining a support group?" Keith asked. "I hear it helps to speak about these dire life moments with people who've had similar experiences."

"And by the time I got it?" Lance continued, now not even trying to hide his smile at Keith's deadpan teasing. "Every time I pushed in the clutch the engine would die. Just die, Keith. Which was fine if I was at a stop light — I'd just start it again when the light turned green. But on a turn? Driving through an intersection? I had to learn really fast how to pop the clutch."

Despite his best efforts to continue to rag on Lance, there was a zing of warmth in his belly as he pictured Lance at the wheel, face determined and eyes blazing, as he learned how to make his raggedy, run-down car cooperate for him.

"Okay, but… that's actually pretty cool," Keith consented.

Lance's mouth — likely ready to continue to try to convince Keith that he had it tough — snapped shut. And then his face was covered in an even deeper blush as he muttered a soft, "Oh."

Keith glanced down at his plate, but couldn't help lifting his eyes again to enjoy the view of a flushed and quietly pleased Lance.

It was a heat similar to the bowling alley. To their stare down in their room yesterday during the thunderstorm.

Lance cleared his throat as he took the first option from their flight and took a drink. He wasn't meeting Keith's eyes anymore, but that didn't mean Keith hadn't already seen those blue eyes turn a shade darker again. He needed to do something about what was happening between them. He just wanted to be sure his action would bring Lance closer, instead of pushing him away. 

They went back to the dorm after dinner, full and happy, and were lightly shoving each other down the hallway when Hunk popped his head out of his own room.

"Hey, are you two okay? I looked for you for dinner but couldn't find you."

Keith side-eyed Lance, but kept his own mouth shut as Lance sputtered out an apology to Hunk for going to an actual restaurant without him.

Hunk looked scandalized. "Real food? You had real food? Lance." Hunk grabbed his arm and Keith watched as Hunk dragged Lance into his own room while demanding a description of every course.

Hunk's door clicked shut and Keith found himself standing alone in the hallway.

Chapter Text

Keith had already changed into pajamas and was sprawled on his bed with a book when Lance finally returned to their room. He quietly noted Lance's pursed lips and the way his eyebrows were furrowed as Lance sat carefully on his own bed, legs still hanging over the side to face Keith.

Keith slowly closed his book and sat up. It was odd, this instinctual feeling that told him Lance was upset, stronger than just the physical cues that were clear as day on Lance's face. Shiro had talked about subtle soulmate feelings he had in regards to Adam, of knowing when Adam needed to vent even if they were apart from each other. Keith hadn't always believed him, had assumed some of that was just the sappy feelings that came with being in love with someone.

He probably owed Shiro an apology.

"Was Hunk actually mad?" He swung his legs over the side of his bed to mirror Lance and set his book aside.

"Hunk was sorta mad about missing a real dinner, but he very much just yanked me in there to yell at me."

Keith frowned. "Why would he yell at you?"

"I haven't found my soulmate yet," Lance stated simply.

Keith felt his stomach drop and then settle heavily, because this meant he truly hadn't said Lance's words. His voice only shook a little when he asked, "He's mad because you haven't?"

Lance chuckled humorlessly for a second. "No, he's mad because he knows I want to find my soulmate. And, Hunk — well he found his soulmate a couple years ago, so he knows what it feels like to be with that one person who's meant for you." Lance scratched the back of his neck and stared at the wall behind Keith. "He knows I want that more than anything, so he's not sure why I… And, I mean, you're still wearing your" — Lance nodded towards the cuff wrapped around Keith's wrist — "so, he's just not sure why I'm…" Lance trailed off and then sighed defeatedly. "Because you have a soulmate waiting for you, too," he said in a small voice.

Keith parsed through Lance's words… Lance really didn't think he was Keith's soulmate, and that… was just as painful as Keith had been expecting it to be. But he also thought he was being unfair to Keith's soulmate and that was causing Lance pain. That, at least, was something Keith could fix. (And if he was just meant to have Lance as a platonic soulmate? He'd take it. Anything would be better than letting Lance suffer like this.) But before he could open his mouth, Lance asked a question.

"Do you believe in waiting for your soulmate?"

Keith tucked his hands under his legs and gave serious thought to Lance's question before speaking. At least Lance could know this about him, before he revealed that Lance was his soulmate.

"When I was younger, my dad said soulmates take care of each other, and I always thought that sounded really nice. No matter what else was happening in my life, his words were something I could hold onto. So, I guess, yeah, I've just been waiting."

He glanced up at Lance and found Lance watching him with a small smile on his face.

And it had been easy for Keith to wait for his soulmate, because there had never been anyone who had caught his attention.

Not like Lance had.

"Sounds like you've been waiting, too," Keith prompted.

"I'm, uh…" Lance's eyes suddenly left Keith's face as he glanced at the ceiling before rolling his eyes over to the window. "I'm… My sister says I'm a romantic, because I've always wanted to wait for my soulmate. But, I don't have a lot of hope of finding my soulmate myself, so… I'm not sure I want to just sit around and wait, you know? Like, if I meet someone I like spending time with" — Lance's eyes flickered to Keith for a moment — "then I'd just like to… spend time with them?"

There was definitely a question insinuated there, and Keith understood what Lance was implying, what he was asking — Lance wanted to spend more time with Keith, and Keith appreciated that. But at that moment, something else Lance had said held his attention. His eyes narrowed in on the cuff covering Lance's wrist.

"Wait, why don't you think you'll find your soulmate?"

Lance blew out a breath in hesitation, fiddled with the band of leather that covered his soulmark, glanced at Keith again, and then snapped the cuff off his wrist. He stood to cross the room and sat next to Keith, keeping his wrist held close to his body.

"I'm going to show this to you and you can decide what you make of it."

Then the back of Lance's hand landed on Keith's knee, leaving the delicate skin of his inner wrist exposed to Keith. Keith sucked in a breath at the contact, but was soon frowning as he focused on Lance's soulmark.

Nnnnnnnnnn

His eyes rose back to Lance who was watching him with a knowing expectance, likely waiting for Keith to confirm the soulmark was confusing and that he'd never seen one so strange before.

Instead, Keith groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "Oh my god."

"I know, right?"

"Oh my god. That really shouldn't have counted," Keith mumbled into his hands.

Lance didn't appear to hear him as he continued. "I even researched soulmarks that are just, like, a string of the same letter, but —"

Keith could feel his face flush hotly as he thought back to the day he and Lance had met. He removed his hands from his face and stared at the floor, verbalizing his thoughts before he even realized he was doing so.

"This is — I mean, I know you said my words, but you didn't react when I first spoke to you, so I just thought, you know, that it was… I don't even know what I thought, really — I tried not to think about it. And all this time you've had — I mean, how is that even fair?" His own hands waved in the air. "I made a noise in protest! That shouldn't count as a word!"

His eyes snapped up to meet Lance's pleading expression as Lance's hands spun Keith by the shoulders to face him.

"Can you go back to the part where I said your words?" Lance said in a choked whisper.

Keith's hand found his own soulmate cuff and he freed his wrist to expose his words to Lance.

Hey, man, welcome — whoa, is that a mullet?

"That's what I said" — both of Lance's hands dropped from his shoulders to grab Keith's wrist so he could stare harder at the soulmark — "That is what I said, right? Exactly?"

"I can assure you that I've had those words memorized since I could read, even with all the punctuation, which is ridiculous and more punctuation than I've ever seen on anyone's wrist. The way you said it even made that dash make sense."

Lance's voice became hushed as he recounted that day as well. "I saw you arrive and wanted to say hi because I was pretty sure you were my missing roommate. And I remember thinking that you didn't get to answer me."

"I didn't think I had answered you, either, before the coaches called you back over to your group. I even called my brother during my first water break to tell him you were here and that I hadn't responded yet. And then I thought — when I ran into you in our room later — I thought I was saying my first words to you then, but you didn't react."

Lance dropped his wrist and pulled him into a hug. "Oh my god. Oh my god, Keith."

"I told Shiro that no one was supposed to have time to think about what they'd say," Keith continued his earlier rant into Lance neck, his own arms already greedily wrapped around Lance's waist. "And then you didn't react, and I was sure I had somehow fucked this whole thing up by cheating the system or something even worse, like that I wasn't your soulmate —"

"I didn't think I was ever going to find you," Lance whispered to him before his volume rose again. "How was I supposed to hear a bunch of Ns, Keith?" His arms were thrown to the side with the exclamation but just as quickly returned to wrap Keith up again in another hug.

"It was a noise of protest over the mullet comment!"

"That shouldn't count!"

"I just said that!"

Lance's response was a wet chuckle, which he did his best to press into Keith's neck.

"Keith, I'm going to kiss you, okay?"

"Yeah, please," Keith murmured even as his own hands reached up to cup Lance's face and pull him towards him so he could greedily claim his mouth for his own.

He barely noticed his own thumbs wiping away the wetness on Lance's cheeks as the kiss engulfed his every sense, the press of Lance's lips, and the softness of his skin, and the scent he'd already begun to associate with comfort and safety and home.

He kissed Lance and he was kissed. It was tentative before it became exploratory. Soft and gentle before quickly evolving into needy and urgent. He wanted to savor each moment while also wanting to push forward and experience the next sensation.

Lance tugged at Keith's elbows and Keith followed, breaking the kiss only long enough for them to both fall back on the bed before they scooted close, and were kissing again.

"I didn't know how I was going to keep you, but I was going to do my damndest to try," Lance whispered against his lips, hands returning to curl into Keith's hair. "I just had this feeling that I needed you near me."

Keith shook his head slightly, knowing that Lance would never have had to try anything outrageous to keep him close. "I was yours from the first moment, Lance," he whispered back.

Lance tucked some of Keith's hair behind an ear, sending a shiver down his body. "All this time," Lance said, and Keith could already tell he was about to be teased, "you got to look forward to your soulmate making fun of your hair for your first meeting."

"I was certain those words were going to be said in admiration" Keith deadpanned.

Lance snorted. "Seriously?"

"No," Keith growled, trying to glare at him. "I thought about shaving my head in spite."

Lance ducked his head as he laughed. But then he shoved at Keith and pushed himself up on an elbow so he could glare down at Keith while vehemently shaking his head. "No, wait, wait — you don't get to win the 'Who had the worst soulmark' contest, here, buddy!"

Keith cocked his head to the side in question, amused by the fact that Lance was properly trying to glare at him.

"Okay, story time." Lance rested his head on a folded arm and continued to glare, which only amused Keith further. "So, my father sits me down for the sex talk when I hit thirteen, which was way too late considering I have two older brothers." Lance rolled his eyes and then waved his hand about. "Not the point — he also spent an extensive amount of time telling me I was not allowed to have sex with someone before even speaking to them."

Lance's face had been steadily getting redder as he spoke and Keith pursed his lips to fight back a grin as he realized where this was going before Lance even said it.

"He thought your first word to me was a sex noise, Keith!"

Keith covered his mouth with his hand, as if that would at all hide the fact that he was laughing.

"Like, a moan or something!" Lance was still trying to glare, even if he appeared pleased by Keith's reaction. "My parents and all my siblings think I'm walking around with a sex noise on my wrist, Keith."

Keith's head fell back as he finally released the laughter he'd been trying to silence.

"So if you think —"

"No, no, wait," Keith wheezed. He wrapped an arm around Lance's back and pulled him even closer. "I need another minute with this."

"I'm just saying you owe me big, Keith," Lance stated, smile once again wide as he watched Keith's reaction. "Big."

"I'll make it up to you," Keith offered, laughter quieting as his thumb snuck under Lance's shirt to explore his hip bone.

"I'm so glad I didn't lose you," Lance whispered, and Keith was reminded that Lance had basically said that he'd be willing to ignore soulmates in order to spend time with Keith just a few minutes ago.

Keith shook his head. "Even when you didn't react to what I thought were my first words, you were still you. I still wanted to talk to you and be near you. I just really like you," he said with a small smile. "You never would've lost me, Lance, even as a friend."

Lance leaned forward to kiss him quickly. "I'm really happy, Keith. Not many people get this."

Keith pulled back enough to raise an eyebrow in question, because soulmates finding each other wasn't rare.

"In all the stories, someone hears their first words and they know that's their soulmate, so they just — fall in love. But, we got to become friends first, you know?"

Keith's face softened and he nodded in return.

"And instead I get to be so happy to find out that its you." Lance swiped Keith's bangs away from his face and tucked some hair behind an ear again.

Keith sucked in a breath at the thought that this beautiful, athletic, sweet guy was not only all his, but that he wanted to be Keith's.

He closed the distance between them again and returned to kissing, opening his mouth and earning a hum of approval as Lance took the chance to allow his tongue to delve into Keith's mouth.

Keith hummed happily as well as one of his hands slid under Lance's shirt and began charting every muscle his fingers skimmed across. His exploration seemed to prompt Lance to let his own hand slide out of Keith's hair, fingertips leaving a blazing trail down his back before Lance found and then squeezed his ass. Keith could not stop the groan that escaped him.

"Doesn't even sound like a bunch of Ns," Lance murmured.

Keith immediately snickered as he opened his eyes and found darkened blue eyes and a giddy grin. Sexy and silly seemed to be what the universe had in store for Keith's future.

He was so thankful.

Chapter Text

He knew there had to be a reason he had butterflies the first time he saw Keith.

When Keith had walked onto the turf on his first day, looking a little tired and a little lost, Lance just knew he could help the guy feel settled if he provided a friendly face by introducing himself, especially since he was sure this had to be his missing roommate.

And the guy was not only his missing roommate, but Keith Kogane, one of the best midfielders in his division. Lance had heard of him, although their college teams had never played each other. He was a little surprised, actually, to see Keith at this camp, where he'd be open to scouts. Mainly because he would've assumed Keith had already been scooped up by a team by this point.

Of course, Lance had had a few offers by then as well, but something told him the right team was still out there waiting for him. And it turned out that his hesitation had worked to his advantage, because it had led him to Keith.

He forced one eye open and stared at Keith's messy black hair — the mullet that brought them together.

He liked to sleep on his back and Keith liked to sleep on his side and they'd fallen asleep last night with Keith tucked in close to him, Keith's head pillowed on his chest, and if that wasn't some two halves of a whole soulmate kismet…

He was vaguely awake and fully aware of Keith's warmth seeping into his skin and Keith's hair tickling his bare chest. He had an arm wrapped tight around Keith's shoulders and their combined slow breaths filling the air and he could easily get used to waking up like this every day -

Pop!

He startled into an upright position when their door opened without warning. Keith grunted as he fell to the side, but didn't bother sitting up or even turning to see who was at their door.

"You guys are — whoa."

Lance watched Hunk's eyes widen at the sight of the two of them squeezed into the same small dorm room bed.

"Hunk!" he exclaimed before waving his hands over Keith's prone body. "Keith's my soulmate! He's cool and talented and hot and mine!" He was loud on purpose. Dramatic on purpose. He wanted Hunk to accept what he was presenting without further questions.

"Wha — that's great!"

Hunk's smile was sincere and after almost a full week of Hunk giving him looks that evolved into flat out discussions about his behavior with Keith, Lance felt his own relief knowing that his personal guilt and confusion from the past few days was over.

"Uh, are either of you wearing clothes?"

"Nope!" Lance responded cheerfully.

"O-kay, well then congratulatory hugs will wait till we're on the field, which, by the way, is where we're supposed to be in about five minutes. You guys missed breakfast and you're late."

Hunk sent a small wave before he shut the door, and Lance immediately flopped back down to the mattress and rewrapped an arm around Keith — where it belonged — as Keith adjusted, shifting until his face was pressed into Lance's neck.

"We're not naked," Keith murmured. Lance had convinced Keith to lose his shirt before they fell asleep last night because apparently Keith was a furnace, but they'd slept otherwise clothed.

"Yeah, but he'll never enter our bedroom without knocking ever again," Lance responded, voice comically sleep-filled in a way it hadn't been moments before when addressing Hunk.

He nudged his face affectionately into Keith's temple and then lifted Keith's wrist in order to kiss the words that stretched across his skin. Keith reciprocated with a kiss to his neck.

They were only slightly (very) late to the field that morning, something Coach Thace forgave quickly, and Keith realized it was because he was in an extremely good mood.

Thace had a real smile as he requested everyone gather round, and then began pulling shirts from a box he'd plopped on the turf at his feet.

Keith caught the jersey Thace tossed to him with an eyebrow raised. It was white with two wide blue stripes across the front, but unlike the other one Thace had given them for their scrimmages that week, this one had two distinct differences. There was a team name printed across the front — Atlas Flyers — and his last name had been added to the back above his number.

His gaze shifted to the jersey Lance had caught from Thace — the same blue stripes and team name, but otherwise a bright red implying his keeper position.

"No more bud light lime jokes," Lance said with a grin as he held his jersey up against his chest.

"We know you were all invited for this training camp with the hope of being seen by scouts at the showcase today," Coach Thace began once every soccer player surrounding him was holding a new jersey. "And you're still free to be scouted, but the other coaches and I have been working to create a major league team here in Atlas for a few years now, and not only were the Flyers recently approved, we also received a large financial backing from the Alfor Corporation."

Keith met Lance's eyes and then glanced down at their jerseys once more. He'd been so caught up in the fact that he'd found his soulmate, that he hadn't even thought about how the two of them could be recruited to different teams (maybe even on opposite sides of the country).

Lance's arm wrapped tight around his shoulders and pulled him in close so he could murmur into Keith's hair, "Same team."

Keith grinned. He liked Coach Thace. There was a trust with the guys he'd been playing with all week that was unlike anything he'd experienced on previous teams. And not only was Lance an amazing keeper, but he was Keith's soulmate and Keith wanted to be close to him.

"Same team," Keith laughed as he pushed himself up on his toes to capture Lance's mouth in a kiss.

"Looks like we have a mid and a keeper," Thace said, interrupting them with his own smile. "Anyone else?"

"Wait, is kissing the captain part of the deal? Because if so, I might be out," Griffin said as he stared at them from across their circle with an equal mix of confusion and amusement in his expression.

"Your wrists aren't covered anymore," Kinkade murmured quietly next to Keith.

"Better late than never, but we finally realized we were soulmates last night," Lance said with a grin.

Keith tucked himself further into Lance's side, happy to let Lance do the explaining, but he was sure his body language was also part of the reason why there were more congratulations from their teammates than questions — it was odd that it would take days for them to realize they were soulmates, so questions would be expected, but Keith wasn't too keen on sharing the entire story.

And when the group's attention returned to the prospect of joining the Atlas Flyers and sticking together as a team, he released Lance only to extend a hand in the air in the center of their group.

"Hands in," he called. Lance's hand landed first, and they were soon covered by the hands of everyone else they'd grown close to on the turf over the past week.

"One, two, three, flyers!" They cheered with smiles on their faces and new jerseys clutched in their free hands.

Keith smiled to himself as well when he thought about how lucky he was to gain a soulmate and a new soccer family all in one week.

They were still running on the high of being a new team as they charged onto the field for their first game of the showcase. There was no struggling to gain control of the ball. No sloppy passes.

Keith accepted the ball from Griffin, but was immediately pressured by two players from the other team. When he saw Hunk show in the open space behind him, he passed it back to him while calling out "Switch the field!" and then watched Hunk punt it to the opposite side of the turf where Holt was waiting.

He jogged behind their offensive front line and provided support as they passed it back and forth, working their way into the other team's box. Rolo took a shot that hit the post, sending the ball sailing right back to them. Keith's mouth dropped open as he watched Holt pull a bicycle kick to get the ball finally in the net.

It worked but Holt landed on his shoulder awkwardly and it got him pulled from the game. Keith checked in on him at halftime, and thankfully his shoulder hadn't dislocated. If anything, Holt was mostly upset because Pidge had jumped out of the stands to join him on the bench and was still yelling at him for pulling a stunt like that.

In the second half of the game, Keith was compensating for Holt's absence (the sub didn't have as much field time with them as Matt did) by playing up and taking a more offensive position. He was in the other team's box when he got his jersey yanked. He was knocked off his feet, but it did earn the Flyers a penalty kick.

Before stepping up to take the shot, he glanced back towards Lance and found him jogging up to him. Lance leaned in close and murmured, "This keeper is crap at lunging. Aim low, not high." Then Lance began to jog back towards his own net, but stopped to come back and whisper, "But don't get lost in his eyes with that eye trick you pull."

Keith laughed and shoved him.

Then he aimed low.

Lance often said he had the best view of the game from his position. If the team began to bunch or left some opposing players open, he was often the first to see it.

Of course, his perfect view also meant an eagle-eye view of that asshole, Lotor, as he and Keith battled each other for the ball over and over in their final showcase game. Keith could hold his own against Lotor, Lance had been happy to notice. But he still flinched every time he saw Lotor's elbow land in Keith's ribcage.

At the moment, Keith had his arms up, doing his best to keep Lotor from shouldering him as he pulled the ball back with his foot before sending it successfully over to Griffin. Instead of moving on, however, Lotor twisted one of his own feet in front of Keith's, sending Keith to the ground.

Lance couldn't help his eyes from dancing back and forth between the ball and where Keith had landed. Keith looked pissed. Thankfully not hurt, but pissed as he pushed himself back to his feet and yelled something after Lotor, who had finally retreated away from Keith's side and was moving back to where he should be on the field.

Lance refocused on the ball, which was headed his way again. Hunk flew to the side, switching positions with Beeboh as he battled with one of the Crushers' forwards. Hunk managed to get it away, but cost them a corner when doing so involved knocking it out of bounds past the goal line.

Lance reached both arms up and touched the top of the goal, stretching quickly before getting into position for the corner kick just as Keith joined the team to help defend the net. Keith was light on his feet, moving constantly even as Lotor tried repeatedly to get around him and get closer to the net. Keith stayed goal-side, however, giving Lance a quick chance to check in with him.

"You okay?" He kept his eye on the ball, a Crusher had it set up in the corner and was currently eyeing his teammates before he hopped a few times in preparation for the kick. "How are your ribs?"

"His elbow is pretty weak, so they're fine."

Lotor huffed nearby.

"I probably have turf burn from when he tripped me, though," Keith added with a sly smile as he shifted again when Lotor tried to get closer to the net.

"So you're saying you need me to rub more cream on you?" Lance's eyes were still pinned on the ball and he reached over to bodily shift Kinkade to the front post for better coverage.

"I'm not gonna complain if you want to rub something on me later."

Lotor groaned. "Stop. I can't listen to any more of this."

The Crusher finally took the corner kick and Lance leapt into action, catching the ball in the air with a laugh.

Keith frowned when he saw Lotor's kick. He wasn't trying to pass to a teammate. He was aiming straight for the goal, from a distance that most wouldn't attempt.

If it had been any other keeper Keith had ever played with, he would've been nervous. Not only was the kick powerful, it was dangerously accurate and headed straight for the top right corner, one of the hardest places to block.

However, Lance's tall frame only had to lean slightly, block the ball with his palm, run forward to capture it in both hands as it bounced, and then swing his long arm back before flinging it over to Kinkade. All with a steely-eyed focus.

Every detail of those entire ten seconds made Keith's stomach flip. He caught Lance's eye immediately after, and there must have been something telling in Keith's expression, because Lance's eyes darkened in response. Then those pretty blue eyes narrowed and he smirked before mouthing a "Stop" in Keith's direction.

Keith grinned and jumped back into the game.

"Keith!"

Keith spun at the sound of his brother's voice and found Shiro and Adam headed towards him from the sidelines. It had only been about a week since he'd last seen the two of them, but so much had changed in his life since then, that it actually felt longer. It was definitely nice to see their faces.

"Nice job, bud!" Shiro hugged him as soon as he was close enough and then lifted the medal that hung from Keith's neck to take a closer look. "Showcase champions for the team who've only been playing together one week."

"Really impressive," Adam added as he got his own hug from Keith.

"It's a really talented group of guys," Keith said, which is what he'd just told the news reporter who'd asked for an interview with the brand new national soccer team's captain after the final game of the day.

"I've never seen you so relaxed on the field," Shiro said. "It seems like a really good fit for you."

"Thanks, Shiro," Keith said. He couldn't help the warmth that spread across his face, although it was always a good feeling to know Shiro was proud of him. "I didn't know you guys were coming."

"We thought a road trip over here would be a nice way to end the honeymoon," Adam said with an overly sappy smile at Shiro. Shiro smiled softly back and ran a hand down Adam's arm until their fingers were intertwined.

Keith rolled his eyes and mentally rescinded his prior thought about missing the two of them for the past week.

"So, are you going to introduce us to your soulmate?"

Adam leaned in and whispered loudly. "Does he know he's your soulmate yet?"

Keith nodded and felt his mouth pull into his own sappy smile. "Yeah, we talked last night."

He turned and found Lance near the bench. He was drinking from a water bottle, but had curious eyes on Keith and his guests. He smiled, though, when Keith waved him over.

"Lance, this is my brother, Shiro, and his husband, Adam," Keith said when Lance reached his side. "And this is my soulmate, Lance."

"That sounds nice," Lance murmured to him, face nudging Keith's temple before quickly turning to offer a hand to Shiro and Adam. "It's so nice to meet you."

"You too, Lance. You had some great saves out there today."

"Thank you," Lance said as he dropped a casual arm across Keith's shoulders.

"So, what did your words end up being, Keith?"

Shiro aimed a small smirk at Keith, and Keith just knew Shiro was waiting for him to explain how he hadn't actually messed up his first words to Lance and that he'd panicked for no reason.

He sorta felt like knocking the smug look off his brother's face.

"Oh, it was a sex noise," Keith deadpanned and then secretly delighted at the way Shiro dropped the smirk and gaped at him.

"No!" Lance whacked Keith's chest with his free hand. "No, it wasn't! He's kidding."

Adam's grin was wicked as he watched them. "I don't now, Keith isn't really a kidder."

"Keith!" Lance shot him a look that clearly begged Keith to rectify the situation.

But Keith kept his flat expression and just shrugged under the arm Lance had wrapped around his shoulders. "Show them your soulmark."

Lance glared lightly at Keith but still turned his exposed wrist upwards towards Shiro and Adam.

"Oh, well…" Shiro's head tilted as he read the line of Ns.

"I mean, I guess, nice job, Keith?" Adam offered, teasing grin still in place.

"It is not a sex noise!" Lance insisted.

"How about we let you guys get changed and then we'll take you out to dinner?" Shiro offered.

Keith accepted the offer of a free meal with a grin and Lance dropped his forehead to Keith's shoulder as Shiro and Adam walked away.

"You are not allowed to tell my family it was a sex noise."

"Okay, but did you see Shiro's face?" Keith couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice. "You can't tell me it wouldn't be funny to see your own siblings' faces if I said the same thing in the same tone."

"Keith, Keith, Keith," Lance sighed as he lifted his face and pulled Keith into a hug. "That is an evil plan."

"And?"

"And clearly you and I are gonna make a really good team."

Keith could hear the smile in Lance's voice. His own grin was wide, which made kissing Lance slightly difficult, but they made it work.

When training camp (turned recruitment camp) was over, and they left their shared dorm room, they both went home briefly to their families. They packed their belongings, most of which had still been in boxes from their recent college graduations, and began to search for a place to live in Atlas.

Shiro, along with a couple of Lance's relatives, had pointed out that most soulmates don't automatically move in together when they meet, even when that meeting happens in adulthood. They were half-hearted protests at best, especially after they had a chance to watch Lance and Keith interact.

And especially given that everyone involved knew that full blown reservations would've been seen as a challenge by Lance and Keith to domesticate the hell out of their soul bond (Lance declared it anyway as they signed the paperwork on their new house).

Although, later that night, in their brand new but nearly empty bedroom, Lance had a much more romantic and sincere sentiment to share. And he stilled his hips only long enough to whisper into the back of Keith's neck that he was "looking forward to sharing everything with you for the rest of our lives."

And Keith — beautiful, flushed, trembling Keith — had chuckled deep in his throat and asked Lance to please focus on sharing this right now, which had startled a laugh out of Lance before he tightened his grip on Keith's hips and did just that.

And living with someone in an actual house (as opposed to a small dorm room) meant that they got to learn new things about each other. The first thing Lance learned about Keith? It wasn't his taste in furniture as they tried to pick out a couch without fighting, or his inability to cook. It was that Keith had insisted on a place with a yard because Keith will bring home any and all stray creatures he finds.

Lance thought it was sweet when Keith came home with a small puppy on their first day in their new house (although after some internet searching which involved texting multiple pictures as proof to Keith, he's still convinced that they now live with a wolf, not a dog).

Since then, he's lost count of how many animals Keith has brought home. Honestly, Lance isn't even sure how Keith manages, considering they not only live together but work together — Keith isn't even on his own all that often! They are, however, now on a first name basis with the people who work at the pet adoption agency, and even exchange holiday cards with a few of them.

They kept the puppy (*cough*wolf*cough*). And the first two kittens.

Lance drew the line after that, especially when Keith came home with a snake.

Pidge, who stays at their place when they're traveling for games to take care of their pets, has also threatened that she doesn't do reptiles.

"I've got with me Atlas Flyers' team captain, Keith Kogane, and keeper, Lance McClain."

"Great to see you again, Julie," Lance responded easily, arm swung around Keith's shoulders, grounding him as they participated in the requested post-game interview.

Interviews weren't Keith's favorite part of the job, but he'd had an easier time with them ever since Lance had begun joining him.

"The Flyers certainly gave their home team fans an exciting experience today with that win," Julie said (and thank goodness for Lance's ability to remember so many faces and names). "Keith, what do you attribute from your team today that earned the win?"

"We had a number of really fluid passes that made those connections we needed in order to keep the ball on their half of the field."

"Certainly made my job easier by keeping the ball away from our net for the majority of the game," Lance added, with a slight squeeze to Keith's shoulders before he nudged his face into Keith's temple.

Keith couldn't help his grin at the familiar sign of affection, despite the camera in their faces or the way Julie's eyes seemed to spark on the movement. Keith watched her professional interviewer grin morph into a more sincere smile.

"I have to say that with the reveal that the two of you are soulmates, and your obvious affection for each other on and off the field, you've certainly become fan favorites. Do you think the soul bond gives either of you an edge during games?"

"Well, we don't have telepathy, if that's what you mean, although that would be awesome," Lance said with a grin that earned a laugh from Julie.

But Keith's brows furrowed as he thought about Lance appearing by his side any moment he needed to work something out (or have Lance point out in what way he was currently being an idiot).

"I think," Keith began with a glance up at Lance — Lance stared back, face open and curious — "that there is something — not telepathy," he said with a fond eyeroll, "but there does seem to be an instinct or a feeling that tells us when the other needs something. Like, Lance seems to know when I'm worried about something, or he jumps in when I'm struggling to lead the team. I certainly wouldn't be the team player or captain I am without him by my side."

He cut himself off when he realized just how pink Lance's face had become while he continued to stare back at Keith. He offered Lance a small smile and watched as Lance bashfully ducked his face and nudged into Keith's temple again.

Julie's smile only grew wider at their display, and Keith realized, a little belatedly, that this probably counted as one of those moments of obvious affection she had mentioned that the fans were so crazy for.

Julie turned to speak directly to the camera as Lance began to tug Keith away. "Sounds like soulmates may be the way to go for some of the other national teams out there."

"Don't give away our secrets!" Lance called over his shoulder with a laugh as he continued to guide Keith towards the locker room.

Lance wasn't so far gone that he just watched Keith on the field. If he was in the goal, his eye was on the ball. Literally. The fact that Keith had his foot on the ball more often than anyone else was really just a bonus.

He watched as Keith passed up to Rolo and when the AT United player put pressure on Rolo, he passed it back to a waiting Keith. Keith dribbled forward a few more steps before another United player came after him and he sent it back to Rolo. Rolo dribbled forward a few more steps until the United player covering him was back, and then he returned the ball to Keith.

It was an elaborate game of monkey in the middle, and if Lance hadn't seen the Flyers' offense practice this routine, he'd think Keith and Rolo were just struggling to find another opening. That was, after all, what they wanted the other team to think, and Lance watched as more United players began to approach Keith and Rolo as they continued to almost lazily send the ball back and forth to each other.

From his perfect vantage point, Lance watched the United team lose their shape entirely, leaving Holt wide open. It was exactly what Keith was waiting for, and when he received the ball from Rolo yet again, he dribbled a few steps before surprising the other team by sending the ball in the absolute opposite direction and right to Holt's waiting feet.

Holt pulled a step over as he was approached by a lone United defensive player and then took a wide shot that landed in the top right corner of the net.

Lance jumped up and tapped the top of his goal in celebration as Keith joined Rolo and Griffin in celebrating with Holt as they ran back to their side of the field. He only had to wait a few seconds before Keith's gaze landed on his face, eyes bright with excitement, even if his smile was bashful as Lance sent him a big goalie glove kiss.

Keith still considered penalty kicks the worst part of the game. They were often rewarded due to a mistake (intentional or not) made by a field player, and yet it was the keeper who had to face the punishment alone.

More specifically, now it was his keeper who had to face the punishment alone.

Keith stood outside the box with the rest of the team and watched Lance clap his gloved hands together a few times before widening his stance, bending his knees, and lifting his arms out to the side.

At the signal that he was ready, Lance waited until the ref stepped back and blew the whistle before he immediately fell out of the pose with some shuffle steps. Keith knew he hated just standing and waiting.

Some PKs just couldn't be stopped. But with Lance's high save percentage, Keith felt calm as he watched Lance focus solely on the player's feet. The other player took a few steps back and pulled a step over before taking the shot.

Lance lunged in the correct direction.

When he was younger, Lance thought having a soulmate just meant that he'd have someone to love and that someone would also love him in return.

In reality, having a soulmate meant — when he was on the field wearing his obstructive keeper gloves — Keith was there to open a water bottle, or retie his cleats, or adjust his bandana before it slipped into his eyes on hot days. Almost always before Lance even realized he needed assistance.

And Lance would swear he felt a nudge from his heart during every one of these moments. As if his heart just knew its match was right there on the other side of his rib cage. He knew Keith felt it as well, if the small smile on Keith's pretty face every time he appeared at Lance's side to dote on him was any indication.

Lance did his best to care for Keith on the field as well. Whether it was checking his bag before they left the house to make sure all his gear had been repacked. Or going after Keith's hair with a towel, before even tending to his own, on the days when they get caught in the rain. He also liberally applies sunscreen to them both (and sometimes goes after some of their other teammates).

One of his favorites parts about being Keith's soulmate on the field? Watching Keith step up and grow into being their captain. And more than just getting rid of the pinched expression during the pre-game coin tosses or the discussions with refs about fouls. Now, Keith's voice rang out across the field more often than anyone else as he called out plays or directed them to switch fields, fall back, overlap.

Lance knew Keith still depended on him to call Keith out on his bullshit. But he also counted on Lance to help him when the team grew frustrated. One pleading look in Lance's direction was all Lance needed before he launched into jokes and encouragements for everyone.

Lance would want to do that for his team anyway, but the grateful smile Keith sends him warms his chest like nothing else.

"Lance, how does it feel to be awarded 'Save of the Year'?

"Oh, well, it's quite the honor, especially being a fan-based decision. I can't tell you how grateful I am to be chosen." Lance rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and Keith grinned to himself as he watched the skin of Lance's face begin to pinken. "I had the opportunity to watch the 'Save Reel' that had been compiled and there are so many talented keepers in this league. I was thrilled to be considered, to be honest."

"And, Keith? What are your thoughts on Lance's award?"

Keith let his smile grow, despite the camera in his face. "I'm very proud of him, as always." He slid his own hand across the back of Lance's neck, and Lance dropped his own hand and straightened his posture, his usual confidence shimmering through the bashful stance. "I'm also not at all surprised. Lance has amazing reflexes and our entire team knows how lucky we are to have him."

"Thank you both for stopping by to chat with us."

Sometimes, when Lance wants them to spend the night celebrating with their team, he makes sure to wear one of his favorite tank tops before asking Keith if he feels like going out.

(Keith knows what Lance is doing with those exposed shoulders, but Keith is too weak and in love to call him on it.)

"This isn't so bad, is it?" Lance murmured into Keith's ear on one such night. He had led Keith out on the dance floor and so far Keith was willingly dancing with him.

"No," Keith responded, smile pressed into Lance's neck. His hands slid up Lance's bare arms and squeezed his shoulders before his arms wrapped languidly around Lance's neck.

Lance nudged his face into Keith's temple in response and was soon rewarded with Keith's lips pressed against his own.

Lance could feel his cleat dig into the turf right before he leapt in the air and caught the ball, pulling it close to his chest to keep it from slipping out of his gloves as he landed amidst all the players currently crowded in his box.

The others began to back up immediately and he didn't waste time before punting the ball up the field. His mouth was already pulling into a grin when he saw Keith leap in the air, ready to head the ball and send it upwards towards either Holt or Rolo.

Keith's ponytail was coming loose, and Lance made a mental note to fix it for him during halftime. He'd randomly pulled Keith's hair up for him prior to a recent game and Keith had scored two goals, which was impressive in that it was not at all common for his position. Ever since then, he'd insisted that Lance be the one to fix his hair before every game. And, well, Lance loved getting his hands in Keith's hair, so he's not complaining.

As Keith's head connected with the ball, a player from the other team also jumped and Lance heard himself growl when it looked like the other player was aiming more for Keith's skull than the ball.

Keith hit the ball, but the other player hit Keith. They both fell to the turf clutching their heads and Lance was on the move before the ref even blew his whistle. He dropped to his knees by Keith's side at the same time as Coran, one of their trainers.

"Keith, are you okay?" Lance breathed as he dropped one hand under Keith's neck to help support him and used his other hand to pull Keith's hand away from the injury. "He's bleeding!"

"It was a pretty good collision," Coran murmured. He was already pulling bandages from his case and applying pressure to the wound above one of Keith's eyebrows.

"Keith?" Lance watched Keith's eyelids flutter and he frowned when he saw the dazed expression on Keith's face. "He doesn't look like he's focusing, Coran."

Finally, Keith's pretty purple eyes found Lance's face and Lance leaned closer. "Babe?"

"Oh," Keith muttered, "you're cute."

Lance bit his lip to try to keep his smile down. He and Coran were tending to an injured player and this game was being televised. The last thing he should be doing is blushing because his soulmate was flirting with him.

"Well, you're cute, too," he said anyway.

There was a smile on Keith's face, but then his gaze fell to their still entwined hands and he began to shake his head, despite Coran's attempts to tend to his forehead wound. He attempted to pull his hand away from Lance, but Lance only squeezed his fingers in return and leaned in further to ask what was wrong.

"I-I have a soulmate." Keith finally yanked his hand free.

"Keith?" Lance's eyes darted between Keith's confused face and Coran, who had tilted his head in confusion.

Lance reached for him again and Keith only pushed his hand away. "No, stay away from me. I already have my soulmate."

"Oh my god," Lance murmured, pulling his hands back so he didn't upset Keith any further. "I don't know if I should be extremely worried about his noggin or be completely charmed."

"I'd go with charmed," Hunk said as he leaned over Lance.

"Someone find my — my soulmate," Keith said as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

Lance lifted a hand to cover his mouth, once again trying to contain his smile. "I think I love him even more right now."

"You guys are gross," Griffin said.

"Lance, my boy, can you help me get him off the field?"

"No touchy!" Keith glared at them.

Lance snorted.

"Do you think the stadium cameras are getting this? Does anyone here have a mic on today?" Rolo asked with a grin. "I can't believe this is happening and we don't have our phones on us."

Their teammates were teasing, but Lance knew the mere fact that they were over here huddled around Keith protectively spoke volumes of the loyalty they had for their team captain.

Not that Lance would've minded capturing this moment on video.

Still, he leaned in to gain Keith's attention. "Keith, I'm going to help you stand, okay?"

Keith eyed him warily, but finally relented with a small nod to Lance's hovering hands, allowing Lance to gratefully put his hands back on his soulmate to help lead him off the field.

"One moron!" Lance called before winking at Keith.

Keith had been grumpy all morning, knowing he wouldn't be allowed to practice with the team. But Lance would take this grumpy attitude over that initial dazed and confused nightmare, which had thankfully been short-lived. By the time Lance could rejoin Keith at the end of their last game, Keith's eyes had been a lot clearer (Keith had reached for Lance when Lance stepped into the training room and Lance had breathed a sigh of relief).

With an official concussion diagnosis, Keith wasn't allowed on the field, and while Lance missed seeing him out there, he was also enjoying having Keith hanging out near his goal, especially when he could see Keith trying to hide smiles following Lance's jokes.

(Plus, that morning he'd pulled on one of his favorite shirts to wear — this one said, 'Hit me with your best shot' — and he presented Keith with his very first awesome soccer shirt.

"Lance, I'm not wearing this," Keith had said with a head shake as he stared down at the 'Dat ass-ist tho' shirt Lance had lain out on their bed.

"But, the 'o' is a soccer ball, Keith," Lance said in earnest, bottom lip beginning to jut out.

Keith's brows furrowed as he seemed to consider Lance's pout, eyes curious as if he were trying to decide how serious Lance was, part of the fun of learning each other over the past several months.

"Isn't everyone going to stare at my ass if I wear this?"

Lance couldn't help his grin, knowing he'd won this round. "Everyone is looking anyway, Keith. Your ass is a godsend. Put it on and then I'll pull your hair up.")

During a water break, Lance plopped down between Keith's bent legs, as close to in Keith's lap as he could get. He managed one big gulp of water from the bottle Keith offered him before Keith was leaning in to kiss him.

"You sure you should be kissing me? I hear you have a soulmate."

Keith pushed him away by his shoulder and scowled at him.

"Okay, fine," Lance said as he leaned in for another kiss, "but your soulmate better not take a swing at me later."

"What are the chances you'll forget about that?"

"Forget one of the best moments of my life? Slim to none, sweetheart."

Keith ducked his head, but Lance caught the small smile anyway. He cupped Keith's face between his hands so he could lift his face and claim that smile.

There was a whistle in the background, but Lance ignored it in favor of focusing all his attention on the way Keith's lips pulled against his own.

"They're calling you," Keith murmured at the second whistle call.

Lance turned to glare at their waiting teammates. "Hey! I'm kissing a cute boy over here!"

"You're always kissing that cute boy! Get back in the net!"

Lance grinned and shrugged towards Keith as if to say, 'Well, they've got me there' before he leaned in to steal another kiss.

"Keith, we understand that during your concussion recovery period, Lance finally convinced you to participate with him in some underwear advertisements. Any idea when we can see those in print?"

Keith groaned pitifully and rolled his eyes hard at Lance, who sat next to him on their couch, his toes tucked under Keith's thigh while they participated in this interview via speaker phone.

The interviewer laughed at his response. "Okay, so maybe Lance and I are teasing you."

"So Lance set that one up, huh?" Keith asked with narrowed eyes in Lance's direction as he tried to sound stern. Lance wiggled his toes under Keith's leg and made a silent kissy face at him.

As if that would get him off the hook.

(It would)

"Seriously, though," their interviewer (Sara?) continued, "I did hear that the two of you were photographed recently for some endorsements, and I can tell you from reading fan comments that those are some highly anticipated advertisements."

"Um," Keith muttered before looking to Lance for assistance.

"Well we truly appreciate the fan support." Lance shifted so he could lean into Keith's side and be closer to the phone Keith held up between them. "I know part of the interest is that we're both soulmates and teammates, but I think we can all agree that the real reason we get so much attention is because Keith is so cute."

Their interviewer giggled on the other end and Keith pressed himself further into Lance's side. He could feel his face warm, as much for the effortless confidence Lance typically displayed during interviews and the open affection he easily displayed for Keith.

"You're the cute one," Keith murmured quietly to Lance, although he soon realized Sara had heard it as well based on the cooing he could hear through the phone.

"Yet another example of why everyone is so rightfully enamored with you both."

Sara continued to speak, but Keith was busy watching Lance's face flush and his eyes darken from Keith's compliment. He tightened his hand on his phone as Lance nudged into him, forcing him onto his back so that Lance could climb on top of him and attach his lips to Keith's neck.

The fingers of one hand slid into Lance's hair while Keith flung the hand holding the phone away from them as he exhaled harshly thanks to the heat from Lance's mouth.

"Well, I want to thank you both again for taking the time to speak with us at 102 Atlas FM. We wish you the best of luck on your away game in Philly next week. I'm sure all of Atlas will be rooting for you."

Keith forced the phone back towards his face right as Lance ground his hips down into Keith's lap.

"Thank you," Keith breathlessly forced out in the vague direction of the phone.

He pulled purposely on Lance's hair and Lance released the skin of Keith's neck and propped himself up on an elbow.

"Thanks, Sara!" Lance said, voice cheery and unfairly unaffected as he smirked at Keith. Then he grabbed Keith's phone, swiped to end the call, and dropped the phone to the floor before he covered Keith's mouth with his own.

At home, having a soulmate meant realizing that while Keith could not cook, he would enthusiastically try every recipe Lance attempted. Keith also knew instinctually which days Lance didn't feel like cooking, and he'd be on his phone at the end of practice or a game to arrange to have dinner delivered.

It meant sleeping without his headphones or a sound machine. He didn't need the distraction from the quiet when Keith's head was on his chest and Keith's heartbeat was so close to his own.

It meant laughing in the shower because Keith insisted on styling Lance's shorter strands into a shampoo mohawk every day. Sometimes it was difficult to laugh with Keith's mouth pressed hard to his own. But they made it work.

And when Keith actually bought his nephew a pocket knife for his birthday a year later, and then said that since Lance's parents named him after a weapon, he was certain everyone would be impressed by the knife gift, it meant wrapping the knife up and handing it over to Sylvio at his birthday party, even though he knew his brother might try to murder him for it. (Keith had been so sweetly pleased that Sylvio liked the gift and he and Keith are now the favorite uncles, so it was worth it).

It meant quiet mornings lounging in bed for as long as Kosmo and the cats allowed, full of soft kisses and combing his fingers through Keith's messy hair.

("It's messy from you tugging on it last night, Lance."

"Well, now I'm fixing it.")

It meant bargaining with each other over who was going to get up to let Kosmo out and then feed all the animals, versus who was going to keep the sheets warm until the other returned.

And it will mean, years later, when they're both sporting rings ("Get it, Keith? Sporting?" And Keith will roll his eyes fondly but nod in response) that it will be up to Keith to literally cover Lance's mouth before he can yell "One moron!" during their five year old daughter's first soccer practice.