Work Text:
Even having been an employee for over a year, Lance was surprised every time somebody wandered into his Subway. It, like all others, was a ghost town in terms of activity, located in the middle of a strip mall that was left to slowly crumble with the ever-changing businesses surrounding it. Even each of his managers had told him their own reasons for never showing up, noting the staffing requirements and overtime and every other excuse in the book to leave the boy alone. He never minded, being able to play his own music over the radio once he'd gotten Hunk to give him the right equipment and spending his shift hours studying furiously for his hardest subjects while he waited for closing time to roll around. Then, he could blast his music even harder and clean up everything from a day without sales. It was a good life.
So, the day Keith Kogane—breathtaking alien enthusiast Keith Kogane—wandered into his Subway, sharp eyes glancing around like they were looking for threats, Lance was nothing if not a little surprised. Keith took careful steps in his thick boots, eyes already on the menu as he weaved through the tables, and Lance slowly shoved his textbook to the side of the register, trying not to let his wide-eyed stare linger too long.
This had been a weird dream of his, being ravished at work. Maybe not at Subway specifically, but he wasn't picky when it came to his thirst over his Biology classmate. Seeing him in a setting outside of school, looking more tired than his observant self and lazily scanning the food through the window of the bar, Lance was feeling some kind of way.
"Hey!" He finally managed, sliding to the end of the bar and holding his breath as a Tegan and Sara song came on. There was so much poetic justice happening in this moment, Lance was sure Hunk would approve.
"Fine." Keith mumbled, not glancing at him and distractedly staring down a container of olives.
Lance paused. Keith paused.
"Uh," He corrected, glancing up and noting his automatic response, "I mean, hey."
The faithful employee took it in stride, leaning against the counter with a broad smile. "Cool seeing you here. What can I get for you?" He didn't even have to pull a smile out of thin air, he was proud to note in his customer service, as his lips were automatically pulled upwards with the pretty boy's presence.
It had been nearly a month or two since they had really spoken to one another, but Lance still had his number from when they both had questions on an assignment all that time ago, and that counted as a win enough. Hopefully, all those little praises he had been given by Professor Holt would account for Keith realizing how date-worthy and good at biology he was, but he was content to hotly ask the boy about his scores in the halls and make passing conversation in the meantime.
In Keith's dark eyes, Lance could see a bit of confusion mixed in with his analyzing, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was surprised to see him working here. It wasn't that uncommon to have a shitty job in their position, and by the green polo peeking out of Keith's terrible leather jacket, he had to be in the same situation, so he didn't have quite a lot of room to judge his little ghost job.
"Oh," the mullet sporting boy blinked languidly, tilting his head back a little to look at Lance better, "You're...Chase, right?"
The song changed. Lance recoiled. "I'm wearing a name tag!" He squawked, "I talk to you in Bio all the time!"
"I mean—not really." Keith's pale cheeks colored slightly, dark eyes flicking down to his nametag. "Lance. Okay. Can I get a sandwich or not?"
"Not really!" Lance repeated, incredulous and taking a step back from the bar to throw his hands up, "Whatever." He pathetically tried to not be hurt by the doors seemingly closing, but almost a full semester of thirst was looking to end only in dehydration. "What do you want?"
"There's a real quick customer service change." The other boy noted with an eyebrow raise, grimacing when he thought Lance wasn't looking, "Flatbread with all the cheesesteak stuff plus peppers, Italian dressing, and toasted with American."
Lance hissed plainly, "Make a complaint, Kyle. That all?"
"You don't know my name either!" If not for his begrudging sandwich making, Lance would have caught the cute ruffle in Keith's demeanor as he stepped closer to the bar to point out Lance's apparent mistake.
He didn't catch it, however, piling steak onto a flatbread with more emotion than necessary and glaring down at the unfortunate thing. "It was a joke, mullet. You're Keith Kogane, apparently too good to know your own classmates."
The other rolled his eyes, moving down the lane and grabbing a bag of chips from the rack. "I'm not. Add pickles to that, too."
Lance, halfway through piling on the peppers, paused to mouth 'what the fuck' to himself, staring down at the combo. He'd seen worse, much worse, but Keith had never struck him as the type of person with horrible taste overall. His clothes, debatable per situation--yeah, he wore that terrible motorcycle jacket that was way too short, but black and red really did suit the guy—but pens and food and other nuances a person can have preferences in, Lance had unspeakably had faith in him for. Only to be disappointed by this sudden sandwich atrocity.
So, he added the pickles, and a handful of red onions Keith hadn't asked for just to spite him before throwing the cheese on top so there was no way to pick them off once it was melted. He threw the poor flatbread into the toaster hastily, still grumbling, and turned to see Keith staring at the textbook by the side of the register.
There was a silence before another song started up, and Keith glanced at the ceiling as immediate rapping took over the speakers. He didn't look like he was really going to ask, so Lance took liberty in explaining anyway, "It's Lil Dicky."
"What." Keith didn't even try to make his word sound questioning, glancing down at Lance as the boy went to pull out his sandwich.
"The rapper, dude."
Keith really could not understand why he seemed so exhausted and offended, but he wasn't interested in further prompting the lankier boy to grumble, so he said nothing still. Involuntarily, his eyes unfocused a little watching Lance's tan hands pile things into his sandwich, not realizing he was about to receive a solid inch of pickles in his engrossment, and only Lance's clearing his throat brought him back from his soft stare. He was watching expectantly, both of them at the register, and Keith could feel his personal frustrations bubbling at the thought of him being distracted so blatantly.
Reluctantly, Lance asked, "Are you alright, dude?" He had no idea of Keith's real every day temperament, but he was pretty sure the sharp Keith Kogane wasn't one for zoning out.
"Yes." Keith answered without hesitation or thought, pulling out his wallet and grabbing a water bottle from the cooler behind him to add to the counter.
Lance's look was critical, but thankfully he didn't ask, taking Keith's payment without a word and letting the boy trudge away.
Seeing the way Keith rolled his neck before stalking out of the window view made Lance feel guilty towards his decimation of the already disgusting sandwich, but it was too late to take back his intentions now. If anything, at least Keith would definitely remember him next time.
_____
When Keith entered their bio class the next day, his eyes did an uncharacteristic sweep of the room before he sat, and when that dark glance had met Lance, he felt like absolute putty.
_____
Keith showed up again a few days after the first incident, though he didn't show any signs of having a vendetta against the Subway or the lone employee within. His polo was white that day, its collar sticking awkwardly as a signaling triangle over the lip of his jacket as he approached tiredly. Absently, Lance thought it was getting warmer lately, and it was probably about time to lose the jacket anyway.
His hand waved in greeting before Lance was even fully standing and ready to take his order. Admittedly, Lance was nervous again, and annoyed at himself for that fact. He'd been snubbed, knew he'd been snubbed, by unfamiliarity, and had no reason to keep his hopes and thirst up, but here Keith was, making him lean against the counter in a way he knew squared his shoulders well and letting a lazy smile curl onto his cheek crookedly.
"I'll have a...meatball marinara with...cheddar, banana peppers, ketchup, mayo, and...Lettuce." Keith's dark eyes, again, didn't glance down from the menu, and Lance was offended in the name of his tantalizing shoulders.
"Bread?" He huffed, glancing behind him and lowering his hands again with as little dejection as he could manage.
Keith's gaze shifted downwards, following the curve of Lance's neck to his shoulder and slender arms, stopping at the fluttering hands again. "Wheat." He answered after a second, moving a hand from his pockets to scrub at his eye once Lance started making his sandwich.
Once more, Lance was struck by how disgusting the combination was once it was halfway assembled. "Are these...for you?" He had to ask. Somewhere, Hunk was crying.
The dark eyed boy was scanning the chip varieties listlessly. "Yes."
Right. Why would he be making a Subway run for somebody else's disgusting taste?
Lance made an audible bleh sound, turning to toast the sandwich without asking and moving to grab a cookie. That was a good way to get to somebody's good grace, right? Even if they had terrible taste and it was deplorable to be thirsting after them, giving out a free cookie was a surefire way to leave a good impression, first or not.
"Why does Subway play such pop trash music?" When Lance looked away from the cookie case, Keith was looking at the speaker above him again, not notably pensive or particularly curious looking, but the question was definitely there.
Squinting, Lance turned to the toaster and shoved the cookie into the sandwich as he pulled it out, setting it on the finisher station to pile on the peppers and sauces enough to cover and drown the baked good. "Beats me." He eventually gritted out, noticing Keith's gaze had shifted to him fractionally.
The sandwich was paid for seamlessly, but, to Lance’s horror, Keith sat at one of the tables at the edge of the dining room rather than leave as he had last time. He pulled out the sandwich and his chips slowly, looking as tired as ever, and began eating without so much as pulling out his phone.
He started at the same end the cookie was on, but didn’t pause in the slightest as Lance witnessed him bite directly into the right area. Almost mesmerized and definitely confused, the employee almost missed the fact that they were so close to the end of his shift, and it was more than time to start his cleaning duties. He worked quickly, keeping his eye on the apparently tasteless boy and checking for signs of his confusion, or recognition, or anything, but nothing came. When Lance moved to put the first chair upside-down on the dining table it accompanied, Keith left without so much of a ‘goodnight’.
_____
The next day in biology, Lance was sure he would be confronted about it practically, but nothing hit him besides Keith’s eyes’ new habit of sweeping the room. It was disappointing, almost.
_____
“You’re working a lot lately.” Hunk commented from the other side of the partition, eyes scanning the ingredients with bright interest. Lance snorted. “No, really, you are. I’m glad you’re taking moving out from our apartment so seriously, but don’t overwork yourself, dude.”
“Me? Overwork? Please, Hunk. You’ll offend me.” Lance replied, stretching across the checkout counter and giving his friend ample time to decide on what he was eating. “Shay wants the usual, right?”
Hunk gave a small nod, smiling when a little bashfully when he caught Lance’s fond look. “I feel like I never see you anymore, though, bro.” He made sure to mention, glancing up at the menu, “The wedding will be the first day you’re going to be stuck in one place for longer than a few hours.”
“And you’ve got me that whole day, so we’re all good.” Lance pointed out, stretching further and groaning. He still needed to do his last tux fitting with Hunk, along with hours of arranging wedding favors for the attendants with Shay, always feeling the need to be helpful and volunteering. Shay was nice though, and deserved the help with her dream wedding with a dreamy guy like Hunk, who had enough to worry about in terms of keeping their caterer in line with his wild need to present the blandest dishes to Hunk at every given opportunity. If Lance had to hear Hunk say one more thing about Sal he was going to quit his position as Best ManFriend immediately. Hunk was probably going to prepare his wedding feast himself, at that rate.
“But do I have your date the whole day?” Hunk asked in an attempt at being sly. It was anything but, and Lance leveled him with a flat look as he mindlessly put together a special BLT for his best friend’s fiancée. “I’m just saying…you said you’d man up but here you are, Lance. I know you don’t have a lot of time on your hands, but this isn’t really like you…What happened to your Biology Beau?”
Hearing Hunk say out loud what their group chat with Pidge had named Lance’s unfortunate crush was painful, but he soldiered on. “He doesn’t even know my name. That’s not a dramatic statement, that’s literal. He doesn’t know it. Called me Chase.” Lance hissed, wrapping the six-incher with vengeance.
The silence that followed made Lance just feel awkward and over-blown, but when he chanced a look up his oldest friend Hunk only looked sympathetic. “That sucks,” He said softly, genuinely, “Sorry, dude. Can I….” There was hesitance while he trailed off, sighing a little to himself, “I know you don’t want a pity party, but I have another friend who also promised they’d have a date and I think they sort of gave up on their crush, too, but I think you guys would be great together. Want a blind date?”
“You want to throw your best man into a blind date on the day of the wedding?” Lance laughed, pulling out a multigrain to begin crafting Hunk’s sandwich for him while he pointed at things. “Adventurous.”
“It’ll be fine,” Hunk assured, “I just hate to see my friends all mopey and if I hear him complain some more after this class he shares with him I’m going to electrocute myself in our lab.”
Lance smiled brightly at his friend, throwing his sandwich in the toaster and trying to stamp down any hopes that were forcing themselves up. “Noted. I’ll warn him, then. At least if we’re not interested in each other we can wallow in pity together.”
“Exactly!”
_____
Whatever relief Lance had felt at Hunk’s promise of a date was whisked away at Keith’s arrival later that night, no less than half an hour from closing time and looking dead on his feet.
“I need two of whatever you made Monday.” Keith huffed, not even glancing above Lance towards the menu.
“What?” Lance asked lamely, feeling the back of his neck begin to sweat.
“The meatball hoagie you made. I got one yesterday but the other subway that’s twenty-four hours by the square didn’t make it the same way, and you don’t work tomorrow.” Keith explained in a rush, checking his watch and scratching the back of his head. His hair ruffled, and Lance’s breath caught.
In a flurry of honesty, he blurted, “I put mustard and oil on it.” The memory was vivid, how he had batted his eyelashes when he caught Keith’s eye and the coldness in his chest when Keith didn’t seem to fully care about his presence, sandwich receiving aside.
Hunk would be proud of him for his truth-telling, at least.
“What?” Keith said this time, looking at Lance and frowning in confusion.
The employee’s swallow was heavy. “I added mustard and oil.” He muttered guiltily.
But Keith just nodded slowly, like he didn’t fully understand why it mattered. “Okay? I’ll have that.”
“Two of that?” Lance felt like he was being punched in the stomach.
Keith checked his watch again. “Two of that.”
_____
In Biology, every time their eyes met, Lance felt like he was being pushed underwater. Three weeks into their game of sandwiches and glances, Keith took an empty seat next to Lance in class, and softly said, “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Lance mumbled into the hand holding up his chin, feeling embarrassed.
It wasn’t the only time they became desk neighbors in the classes following, and even with only a few sessions left to enjoy the course something in Lance felt lighter knowing the ever-tired subway-enthusiast Keith Kogane wanted to sit next to him all of a sudden.
It felt like enough to get him to stop meddling with Keith’s orders, that was for sure.
_____
Lance was halfway through mindlessly building what seems to be Keith’s favorite atrocious footlong of them all when the unfortunate customer asked, “Are you the only one that works here?”
He wasn’t, but he felt like he was, always showing up to high-five Plaxum who stays for only an obligatory half-hour of her remaining shift before she disappears. Lance tried to think of a single person who worked nights who Keith might have run into that wasn’t him, only to be fruitless in his attempt. “Yes,” He answered to be difficult because he didn’t understand why it would matter to Keith, “I’m a ghost, so the only thing keeping this place open is my haunting and luring unsuspecting victims to this building so I can eat their souls. You’re one footlong away, Mr. Meatball.”
Keith did something unexpected and brilliant. He laughed, a little soft and breathy, and Lance dropped an entire heap of onions listening to it due to his complete awe. Keith didn’t notice, continuing in his softness to say, “Ghosts don’t eat souls.” He provided the confirmation like it was entirely logical—like there was a way for him to disprove Lance’s claim if he were to ask because Keith was so knowledgeable and experienced in the field.
Lance, bitter to still be so smitten, bit the inside of his cheek to hide his smile. “Super presumptuous of you. I guess you’ll just find out Wednesday, huh?”
Keith smirked, missing the reveal that Lance somehow has memorized his schedule. “I’ll get a six-inch instead to drag it out.”
“Boo.” Lance moaned, wrapping the sandwich finally and smiling at his unintentional double-edged joke. Keith laughed again.
When they reached the checkout stage, Keith seemed to quiet. Lance watched as his gaze fixed on the physics textbook Lance had been pouring over lately, their biology textbook under it and both wedged at the edge of the counter.
“You work a lot, huh?” Keith asked, soft again for some reason and quiet, seeming like he wasn’t exactly sure how he wanted his conversation to go yet. It was as awkward to watch as it seemed to be to say.
Lance blanched, feeling a defensiveness curl in him for some reason, and he set his sights on the ‘Arusian Fresh Markets’ logo of Keith’s tan polo. “You do, too.” He argued, thinking about how exhausted and almost defeated Keith always seemed as he dragged himself to the empty establishment so late. Their eyes met again, and Keith was the first to break it with something worn and mysterious in his smile.
“Fair enough.” He conceded as he gathered his sandwich and chips. Before he turned, however, he hesitated, and Lance felt an inexplicable anxiety build in his gut. “Hey,” Keith muttered, seeming to fight with himself, “Are you free this weekend?” Lance felt a breath leave his lungs slowly and torturously, but Keith plowed on before he could even think to over-examine the question. “I have a thing at a wedding this weekend, and the groom’s my friend…and he said I have to get a date and everything…”
Lance watched Keith work his jaw in a stricken sort of way, not knowing exactly what to respond with but feeling a million sparks find their home inside of his chest at the confirmation of the inevitable over-thinking Lance would have had at the nature of the question. The sparks died fast, though, because he remembered Hunk’s beautiful smiling face, and his encouragement for Lance to get his life together, and everything felt like it crashed down a little as he juxtaposed that with Keith’s handsome and frustrated face at the simple question of a date on the worst of all days and times. “Uh,” Lance started, dumb and flustered and frustrated all at once, “No—”
Keith nodded, turning quick, but Lance hastily got the rest of his piece out as soon as he could, “Literally any other time!” Realizing he had shouted in their quiet ghost town establishment, he hunched in on himself to try and remedy his tone. “Any day, any time, just not this weekend. I have a huge ordeal of a thing for my best friend, also conveniently getting married…um….”
Keith, just a few steps away, nodded a few times in succession before he glanced back at the counter and gave Lance a devastatingly handsome smile. “I’ll see you Wednesday, then.”
“Yeah…Wednesday.” Lance’s agreement came with averted eyes, and he couldn’t help but hyper-focus on the feeling of his warm cheeks rising in discomfort, unsure of what else to do with himself now that he had done it. A date with the Biology Beau himself. An incredible, impossible seeming feat.
_____
Wednesday rolled around with a series of misfortunes, and by the time Lance was due for work he had long before called Plaxum and explained his inability to find his way to his shift. She was a blessing and understood as always, but Lance felt his gut roil with regret each minute he was apart from the ghost town where his beau was surely to visit.
There were other matters to attend to, though; bridesmaids dresses didn’t fit and the cake order was going to be late and Shay was worried the candy bar didn’t have enough stock. Lance was flying throughout the end of the week on fumes doing the last-minute hot gluing for the wedding décor and showing cousins and friends how to create the centerpiece arrangements. It was an exhausting, exciting mess with Lance and the maid of honor at the center of the chaos, acting as bouncers for anyone wanting to bother Hunk or Shay directly. At the end of the day, Lance was ready to sleep for a dozen years, but he had to start it over again tomorrow for his best friends, and he would gladly deliver on his job title for the rest of the week.
_____
Sunday morning brought Lance an exhaustion that only faded slightly with coffee, awake at the middle of the night at what qualified as a good start to the morning. He follows his routine duties through the morning, fixing Hunk’s tie more than once as he fidgets with it obsessively while they’re getting everything else ready and Shay is tucked away in a private room with her bridesmaids getting ready. Hunk worries about the cake and the caterer over again, and Lance assures him more than once that he’s got them all in a row. Grandmothers arrive with distaste on their tongues that Lance wants to snap up and slap them with, but he stays pleasant through it all, and when it’s finally time for the ceremony to begin he looks out at the pews and notices, among Hunk’s side of the family and friends gathered, there is Keith Kogane—breathtaking alien enthusiast Keith Kogane—sitting with another familiar few faces he knows in passing, and Lance thinks he feels both faint and stupid.
They’re getting into position, though, so Lance has no time to step aside and wave him down. There’s nothing to do but look on as Keith chats seemingly amicably with whoever he has with him. He tries to sneak a glance as they’re meandering down the aisle and has the singular pleasure of watching Keith’s eyes light up as they meet, and despite the absurdness of them both ending up in the same place, Keith’s soft smile has made an appearance, and Lance has the pleasure of sneaking glances at it all throughout the ceremony as he stands besides Hunk. It’s a delight to his hectic day, and he feels like he might be very lucky by the time the reception rolls around.
It’s a feeling that delivers, as well, because when toasts have been made and dinner has been served Lance finds himself on the dancefloor with Hunk being introduced to Keith Kogane—breathtaking alien enthusiast Keith Kogane—and Lance laughs with delight and says to Hunk, without a whisper or word of discretion, “This is him, huh? How’d you pick out my Biology crush, bud?”
Hunk, too, seems delighted, and he laughs at Keith’s slightly contorted face, before leaving the two to one another’s devices. Lance snatches Keith by the waist for a dance, and Keith hesitates only for a moment before a smile curls up on his face and he chuckles at Lance’s suavity. They glide across the dancefloor, and the more songs that pass the closer they get.
“If you’re going to quit Subway, you should’ve told me, their food is garbage.” Keith says out of the blue an odd dozen song in.
Lance blinks, a grin pulling across his face wider and wider the longer he gets to gaze at Keith, and when he finally realizes the implication he pulls the other even closer and ghosts a breath across his lips as he responds. “Sorry Plaxum doesn’t deliver the quality of service I do.”
“What is Subway without the attraction?” Keith murmurs back, amused, “Hot garbage.”
“What a compliment!” Lance laughs in his face, waiting for them both to calm before he takes the plunge and presses a delicate kiss to Keith’s lips. “That was that soul-eating I was talking about. The contract is completed.”
Keith laughs, fully and beautiful, and Lance feels like (no offense Hunk) the luckiest guy at the wedding.
_____
Just years later, Hunk’s wedding speech is a masterpiece of embarrassing regales, but no anecdote is so good as when he leads into how Keith and Lance found one another through him, because they were too stupid to take any other path logically to each other. There’s not a dry eye in the banquet hall.