Work Text:
Lance was jostled awake by a movement to his left, wrenched unwillingly from the quiet bliss of sleep with a small snort that he would deny later.
“Wha-?”
“It’s just me, go back to sleep.” It was Keith, Lance realised. Obviously.
“Where are you going?” asked Lance, his eyes already slipping back closed, the silhouette of Keith pulling his jeans back on disappearing behind his eyelids.
“Work.” Keith’s words were hushed, even though it was just the two of them in the room.
Lance blinked his eyes open again to eye his phone thrown carelessly on his bedside table.
“It’s 5:30 in the morning, where do you work?” asked Lance, pushing his face further into his pillow.
“Starbucks.”
“What?”
“Starbucks, it’s a coffee shop.”
Lance pulled his face out of the pillow, to throw a disgruntled look at Keith that he inevitably couldn’t see in the darkness. “I know what Starbucks is,” he spluttered slightly, dropping his head back down. “I just didn’t hear you.” He was aware of how petulant he sounded.
“Oh, okay.”
More rustling as Keith got his things together.
“Er, bye.”
“Where’s my goodbye kiss?” Lance blurted out, before feeling an embarrassed flush rise to his cheeks. This entire situation had been kept purposefully casual, no labels and feelings, which just seemed easier, and Lance had never requested a goodbye kiss before. Lance blamed his half-asleep state for the slight slip.
Before Lance could overthink the situation anymore and retract the request, he felt the softest of pressures on his cheek. The gentle kiss was a far cry from the others they had shared but, for some reason, it made Lance’s heart thump loudly and uncomfortably in his chest.
Without another word Keith was out of the room.
“Fuck,” whispered Lance, to himself, before pulling the duvet right up to his chin and falling back to sleep immediately. His gay ass would have to panic about this later.
-
“Shitting fucking arse.” The stream of profianty followed Lance from his room to the kitchen and back again.
“Lance? What’s up, buddy?” called Hunk, who was stood in the kitchen, calming packing a home-made sandwich into his bag
“I slept through my alarm,” Lance shouted back, skidding back out of his room with shoes on but unlaced, and books cradled in his arms. “I have a lecture in 20 minutes.”
“Do you want me to make you a coffee?” offered Hunk, “You look kind of rough.”
“Nah, I’ll just grab one on the way,” said Lance, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading for the door. “Thanks though!”
Lance only tripped twice on his laces, nearly sending himself sprawling down the concrete staircase that lead up to their flat. Not wanting to die quite yet, he stopped at the bottom to tie his shoelaces and also stuff his books into his bag before speed-walking towards the university building via his favourite coffee shop.
Luck was clearly not on Lance’s side today, he realised as he eyed the unreasonable queue spilling out the front of the small establishment. With a huff and a small break to catch his breath, Lance realised he was going to have to either go without or via a chain.
With a small sigh he resigned himself to the Starbucks on campus.
-
“Lance?
Lance looked up from his phone, where he had been furiously texting Hunk about the delays to his morning. The little blue ticks indicating that his friend was reading them, but not responding, happy to just let Lance rant. He was a good friend, was Hunk.
“Oh,” he said, louder than he meant to. “This is the Starbucks you work at.”
Keith looked at Lance with a raised eyebrow, clearly vaguely unimpressed by Lance’s lethargic response.
It was strange to see Keith behind the counter, his hair pulled up and out of his face into a small and messy ponytail, and a dark green apron on his chest, tied neatly about the waist. Lance got a little distracted by his forearms, the uniform shirt rolled up to Keith’s elbows. They were nice forearms, argued Lance.
“Err, coffee?” said Lance, realising he had stayed quiet for a little bit too long.
“Yeah, we might have some of that.”
Keith’s deadpan face and monotonous sarcasm made Lance’s heart beat a little louder. Why on earth was Lance attracted to this cantankerous bastard.
With a slight pink hue to his cheeks, Lance ordered his coffee and pulled out his wallet, ready to get this interaction over with.
“It’s fine,” mumbled Keith, waving off the coins that Lance was attempting to hand over.
“What?”
Keith took a deep breath, as though both calming himself down and preparing himself. “It’s fine, it’s on the house.”
“Aww, Keith ,” said Lance in a teasing tone, his grin splitting across his cheeks. “That’s so romantic.”
“Fuck off,” mumbled Keith, turning away to pass the cup to the baristas behind him. Lance could see the slight flush to Keith’s cheeks though, and suddenly Lance felt far more confident in his own blush.
Lance moved on to the end of the counter, taking the coffee from the barista with an upbeat thanks, before turning to make his way to his lecture.
“Bye, Keith!” he called, walking backwards out the small space so he could wave at the other boy.
Keith looked up and just rolled his eyes in response.
Lance grinned, maybe this wasn’t such a terrible way to start his day.
-
“You work really hard.”
The sudden voice made Lance jump slightly, turning a little too quickly in his chair to look at the boy lounging on his dorm bed.
Keith had come over about an hour ago, as per Lance’s cheeky text (it was not a booty call, it was not ), but instead of anything happening resembling anything nearly akin to ‘cheeky’, Keith had promptly fallen asleep on Lance’s bed. Lance had stood there in slight bewilderment before settling down at his desk to start work on an essay. (He had perhaps made a small mental note on how fucking adorable Keith looked curled up like a cat on top of his blue bed covers.)
“What?”
“You study a lot,” said Keith with a small shrug, his voice slightly croaky from sleep.
“I, err,” Lance tripped over his words, he was perhaps a little flustered from Keith’s ‘sleepy voice’. “I mean, it’s Nursing, you can’t not study, ya know?”
“I think it’s impressive,” said Keith bluntly, ignoring Lance’s flustering.
“You must work pretty hard as well if you can fall asleep that quickly, worn out from all your studying?” Lance said back, trying to ignore the fact that Keith being nice to him had made him weirdly sweaty.
“I think it was more of a caffeine crash.”
“Is coffee just your primary character trait?” asked Lance with a small snort, carefully sticking a little coloured sticky tab in the absurdly chunky volume he had been studying.
“Huh?” Keith grunted.
Lance made the mistake of looking back over, where Keith had flopped back down onto the bed and was stretching in just the right way that his t-shirt and jumper had risen slightly. Jesus, Lance felt like a teenage girl, swooning over a little bit of skin.
“That’s just all I know about you,” clarified Lance, averting his eyes with purpose. “If I were to introduce you to someone, I would say ‘Oh, Keith? Yeah he’s about this tall and drinks a lot of coffee.’”
“I’m taller than that,” said Keith, eyeing the hand that Lance had risen to indicate a height of a tall child, perhaps.
“Barely,” snorted Lance, his mouth pulling up into a smirk.
“We’re, like, the same height!” protested Keith, sitting up and brows set in indignation.
“No way, dude,” said Lance with a laugh, leaping to his feet. “Come on, get up, I’ll show you.
Keith stood up immediately, coming to stand in front of Lance. “See? This is the same!” Keith made a general gesture between the top of their heads.
“You have shoes on!” said Lance, voice raising in volume now.
“Fine!” Keith nearly yelled, stepping back to kick his boots off, letting them land wherever. His socks didn’t match, Lance noticed, adding it to the list of ‘Things Lance Knows About Keith’.
Toe to toe, Lance placed his hand palm down on top of Keith’s head before bringing it towards him, and letting it bump into the middle of his forehead.
“See?” said Lance, not taking his hand away from his head. “That’s at least an inch, I’d say.”
“You’re a filthy liar,” mumbled Keith. “You exaggerated that."
“Did not!”
“You so did.”
“You just can’t handle the truth, Kogane.”
“Oh yeah?” said Keith, his voice now quieter, still croaky in the way it usually was.
“Yeah,” Lance almost whispered, realising how close their faces were. Keith’s nose was almost touching his own now.
Keith had clearly noticed this also, going quiet and glancing down at Lance’s mouth before looking back up so Lance had a clear and intimate view of Keith’s eyes. They were a strange dark colour, and so clear, so unfairly pretty.
Lance wanted to keep this. He hadn’t said so out loud, perhaps not really realising until now, but Lance wanted this boy to stay.
Keith inched forward, gliding his nose alongside Lance’s, taking a moment to breath before leaning in with, Lance assumed, every intention of kissing him.
“Wait,” said Lance, too loudly.
Keith startled back slightly, a frown on his brow. “What?” Was that disappointment in his voice? Lance liked that.
“I’ve been thinking, I want to say something,” started Lance. Best to say it upfront now.
“Right now?” asked Keith, mouth set in a little annoyed pout.
“Yes now,” said Lance, “and you need to listen.”
“Okay, sure,” were the words Keith said, but his lack of sincerity was revealed by his actions. He leant in and planted a kiss right on Lance’s half-open mouth.
Lance made a small muffled hum of surprise, slightly indignant, but also really enjoying the hands that had made their way to Lance’s waist.
He indulged for a moment, kissing back, because he could.
“Keith,” he managed to get out, gently pushing at his chest.
“Sorry,” mumbled Keith, not sounding sorry at all, tongue peeking out to lick his lips.
“You’re so annoying.”
“No, I’m not,” replied Keith, the quiet, rebellious confidence of his voice was mirrored in the way that he leaned in for another kiss.
“Keith-”
A knock on the door made Lance startle, taking a hasty step away from the other boy, causing Keith’s hands to drop to his side.
Lance, his breathing a little heavy, stared at Keith, who quirked an eyebrow at him before gesturing to the door, as if to say, “Go on, then.”
Lance ran his fingers through his hair and pulled the hem of his shirt straight, before taking the couple of steps to his door and pulling it open.
“Hey, buddy, did you want-oh, hey...Keith.” It was Hunk. Wonderful, glorious best friend, Hunk, who made no comment on the fact that Keith was, once again, in his room and looking suspiciously rumpled.
“Hey,” replied Keith, mouth forced into a kind smile. It was an unusual look on the other boy, and Lance delighted at the fact that Keith was making an effort for his friends.
“I was just wondering if you wanted quesadillas for dinner,” said Hunk, a hand reached up to run the back of his neck. “You as well, Keith, of course.”
“Hunk, you beautiful bastard,” said Lance as a reply, “I fucking love quesadillas.”
“Yeah, I know, buddy,” replied Hunk with a fond smile. “Keith?”
“Ah, no, I, er, should probably get going.” Keith stooped to pick up one of the boots he had kicked off earlier.
“Stay,” said Lance, sternly making eye contact with the other boy, heart beating a little fast now.
“What?”
“Stay for dinner,” elaborated Lance, “Please.”
“Oh,” said Keith, his face unguarded in soft surprise. “Okay.”
Ten minutes later Keith was dutifully cutting up peppers and onions with a careful precision, knife softly hitting the chopping board with a steady rhythm. He had tied up his hair again, and Lance could not stop glancing over at the boys incredible jaw line.
“Lance, careful!”
Hunk’s words jolted Lance out of his little daze, to realise he was holding the hot pan in his bare hands and it was really starting to hurt.
“Fuck,” hissed Lance, dropping the frying pan back onto the stove.
“You okay, buddy?” asked Hunk, moving over to inspect Lance’s palm.
Keith had also looked up, slight concern etched into his features.
“Yeah sorry, just got...distracted.”
Hunk raised an eyebrow, unsubtly glancing over to where Keith was still holding the knife. “Uhuh.”
It wasn’t until later, after the quesadillas had been consumed and enjoyed, and Keith had retreated back to wherever it was that he actually lived, that Hunk brought it up again. He strolled in through Lance’s bedroom door, eyeing the bed suspiciously before perching on the edge of it.
Lance watched him do all this silently from his desk chair.
They both then heard their front door open, keys jangling, shoes being kicked off and bag thrown to the floor. Tell-tale signs that their third housemate had returned.
Pidge passed Lance’s door, stopping to stare at them both, before walking in themselves and sitting down next to Hunk.
“What’s Lance done now?” were the first words that Pidge spoke.
Lance spluttered in indignation, mouth gaping open to retort.
“He’s been pining, and it’s honestly a little nauseating,” said Hunk evenly, ignoring Lance’s ungainly noises.
“Ah,” said Pidge in understanding, their blonde hair bouncing a little as they bopped their head in a small nod.
“I am not pining,” yelped Lance, hands flailing just a little.
“Oh, so are you two together now, or what?” asked Pidge, interlocking their fingers and resting their chin on them, surveying Lance with a mischievous smirk.
Lance was quiet, for once.
“As I suspected,” said Pidge, throwing themselves back onto Lance’s bedspread. “You need to grow some balls, my friend.”
“Hey-”
“Figurative balls, you know what I mean,” huffed Pidge.
Lance stuck his lip out in a pout.
“I think you should consider asking him, Lance,” said Hunk, gently.
“I’ve tried!” said Lance, throwing his hands up into the air. “It’s not that simple.”
“How long has it been since, you know, you guys started boning?” asked Pidge, their tone not even nearly as gently as Hunk’s.
“Pidge-!”
“Nearly three weeks?” suggested Hunk, directing this at Pidge who nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, that’s too long, Lance.”
“I know-” Lance tried to say, but was interrupted again.
“Better to disappoint him now, than lead him on,” said Pidge.
“Pidge! Fuck off!” yelped Lance, springing out of his chair to push a cackling Pidge out of his room. “I’m anything but disappointing.”
“Yeah, you are,” said Pidge now, turning serious. They grabbed Lance’s elbow. “Let him know what a bloody good catch you are.” They let him go, winking before flouncing off to their own room.
“They are too much for my poor brain,” whined Lance, falling back into his chair. “Leave me,” he said weakly, waving a limp hand at Hunk, “Leave me to wallow in peace."
“Okay,” agreed Hunk, standing up to go. “But don’t wallow too much, I know you have an essay due tomorrow.”
Lance let out a long, drawn-out moan from where his head was now on the desk.
Hunk patted him on the back before leaving his room, closing the door softly behind him.
Lance groaned again, just for good measure.
-
“What if he’s just in it for the sex?”
“Lance? What the fuck, why are you awake?” mumbled Hunk into the phone.
Lance was still sat at his desk, watching his completed essay upload into an email attachment. His legs were drawn up onto the chair, his other hand wrapped around his shins, while he pressed his phone to his ear.
“It’s morning.”
“Barely,” said Hunk around a yawn. “Go to sleep, Lance.”
“I might as well power through, now,” reasoned Lance, glancing at the sky that was begrudgingly turning from a calm, dark black to a sad and cold grey.
Hunk made a vague sleepy noise.
“Hunk?”
“Well, even if he is,” Hunk said, stopping to clear some sleep from his throat a little, “you’ll just have to be okay with that. Or stop seeing him.”
Lance waited a beat. “I think I really like him.”
“He probably feels the same way, he stayed for quesadillas.”
“He’s super gay.”
“...Yeah, I could have guessed that, I think.”
“I mean...I just....” Lance huffed in frustration. “I’m worried I’m not... boy enough.”
Before Hunk had a chance to respond, Lance hurried on to say, “I mean, I know I’m boy enough, I know this, obviously, but I’ve never had a boyfriend before and Nyma was bi so I never really had to think about whether she was physically attracted to me, and I know this doesn’t make sense because I just said maybe he’s only in it for the sex, but it’s 5 in the morning and I have too many thoughts-”
“ Lance! ”
Lance stopped speaking, breathing just a little too heavily.
“I’m just going to be brutally honest for a second, but I think it will help. Maybe.”
“Okay,” said Lance quietly, already a little embarrassed about his outburst, resting his forehead on his knees.
“If he doesn’t want to be with you then...he won’t. It’ll be sad, but that means he’s an idiot and if he’s willing to let you go then he’s really not worth it.”
“Yeah,” agreed Lance, his voice soft and sad.
“But the longer you draw it out, the sadder it’s going to be.”
“Yeah.”
“Also, I personally think it’s going to be fine.”
“You do?” asked Lance, pitifully hopeful.
“He looks at you like you’re the fucking sun, it’s honestly a little bit embarrassing when I’m in the same room.”
“Shut up,” mumbled Lance, his cheeks warming as he tried to hide the smile from his voice.
-
“...Hello?”
“Keith! It’s me, Lance.”
“Yeah, I know, your name comes up when you-why are you calling me?”
Lance stopped his brisk and confident walk mid-stride. “Do you mind?”
“Er, no, no, I don’t. You just don’t usually so…”
“Well, I am now,” said Lance, starting his walking up again.
“Oh, okay.”
“Are you busy later? I just downloaded Mad Max and wondered if you wanted to come over to watch it.”
This was it, this was Lance taking his destiny into his own hands.
“Sure,” said Keith, without a pause, which boded well. “I’ve never seen it.”
“You’ve never seen Mad Max?” Lance repeated. This had very suddenly become less of a plan to get Keith to date him, and more of a plan to bring Keith up to speed with his favourite films.
“No, that’s what I just said,” Keith didn’t sound annoyed, just vaguely confused.
“Okay, okay, well, prepare to feel very strongly about cool, post-apocalyptic cars and a rugged, dirty Tom Hardy.”
“I already feel quite strongly about both of those things.”
Lance spluttered out a little laugh, before telling Keith to come over after his classes finished, and hanging up before Keith could ask why Lance knew what time his classes finished.
-
Keith had brought beers, because he was a good man.
They drank all of them, because they were silly boys.
“Yes, excellent,” said Keith, with the smallest of slurs, as the credits rolled.
Lance nodded enthusiastically. The laptop had been perched between them on the bed as they leant against the wall, although Lance had slipped into an almost horizontal position. He attempted to right himself, his arms a little too wobbly and the bed a little too soft to be entirely successful.
“Let’s watch it again.”
“What? No,” said Lance, sending Keith a bewildered look. “That’s not how watching films works.”
“Why not? I like it.”
“No, that’s weird.”
Keith shrugged, and downed the rest of his can.
“I would be great in Mad Max,” Lance decided. “I’d be so badass."
“You don’t even have a car,” pointed out Keith, with a smirk, turning his beautiful drunk eyes towards Lance.
“So? Neither do you.”
“No, but I have a motorbike.”
“What?” Lance said a little too loudly. “Since when?”
“Since I bought it?”
“When did you buy a bike? You’re like 12."
“What? I’m not 12, I’m nearly 21?”
“You’re 21?” Lance said, even louder, rounding on an alarmed looking Keith. “I thought you were my age!”
“Which is…?”
“19!”
“That’s the same.”
“No it isn’t, you’re in your twenties, and I’m just a teenager.”
“Lance,” said Keith, seriously, reaching out to hold Lance’s elbow. “It’s the same.”
Lance pouted, and then pouted some more when Keith removed his hand.
“Anyway, I didn’t buy it new, it’s sort of a mish-mash of different parts.”
“This is ridiculous, I can’t believe you’re an old man and you made a fucking motorbike and I didn’t know. I feel so uncool right now.”
“I think you’re pretty cool,” mumbled Keith, turning back to watch the credits that were still rolling steadily on the screen, which had taken a small tumble and now sat at an angle.
Lance blushed a little bit, hoping the darkness of the room would hide it.
“I dropped out of first year the first time round,” said Keith, breaking the small silence. “That’s why I’m a year older.”
“Oh, which course were you doing?”
“Engineering.”
“Oh, that’s what Hunk does,” said Lance. He paused. “Why did you drop out?”
“I don’t know, lots of reasons, they’re not really important.”
“That’s okay, you don’t need to tell me,” said Lance softly. Then, because he was feeling brave and drunk, he leant sideways and dropped his head gently onto Keith’s shoulder.
“Maybe when I’m less drunk and can explain it properly.”
“Okay.”
“I like my course now, though,” he said, quietly, the music of the credits had finally stopped and the room seemed too quiet.
“What is it, exactly? You’re in so many of my lectures, but I thought you were doing an art course?”
“Yeah, illustration, or whatever, but I like drawing all the scientific shit,” Keith explained. This was potentially the most Lance had heard him speak in an evening, he was careful not to interrupt. “So I go to a lot of the biology lectures, and stuff. I want to draw those cool drawings of body parts you see in textbooks and old weird books.”
“That’s so specific, I love it,” said Lance, honesty lacing his voice as he leant more of his weight into Keith’s side.
Keith, the sneaky bastard, slipped his arm around Lance’s back and reached up to run his fingers through the short little bits of hair at the back of Lance’s head. They stayed like that for a while, breathing together, before Lance’s noticed the slight ache to his chest.
He let out a frustrated puff of air.
“You okay?” asked Keith, immediately stilling his hand.
“Yeah, I just need to go take my binder off,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible, even though bringing it up still made him a little nervous around Keith.
“Okay,” said Keith, softly, letting his arm drop.
“Don’t move though, okay?” said Lance, sternly, clambering off the bed and pointing at Keith. “I’ll be right back.”
Keith nodded, a fond smile playing at his mouth.
Lance realised how tipsy he actually was as he tried to silently pull his body out of his binder in the quiet, very echo-y bathroom. He stood for a moment afterwards, swaying slightly, looking at the pink flush of his cheeks in the mirror. He couldn’t seem to get rid of the dopey smile that had smeared itself across his face. He was so ridiculously into this boy it was disgusting.
He was going to tell him, Lance decided, trying to look sternly at his reflection. While he was still drunk enough to have the confidence to do so. Now was the time.
Lance adjusted his hoodie, drank some water from the tap, and strode back out into his room, ready to tell Keith exactly how he felt.
Only, Keith had very clearly fallen asleep.
Lance felt the words die on his tongue as he looked at the other boy, his neck at a terrible angle and his feet dangling off the side of the bed.
“Okay, come on,” Lance said softly to the sleeping boy. “Let’s go to sleep then.”
He half woke Keith, persuaded him to shed his jumper and jeans and get under the covers, where he immediately fell back asleep. Lance bit his lip to stop his grin consuming his face, letting himself stare at the other boy for just a moment, before getting in beside him and pressing his face into Keith’s chest. Keith curled his arm around Lance, as if on auto-pilot.
Surely this was practically dating? The sane and sober part of Lance’s brain reasoned. Why else would Keith stay just to sleep and cuddle?
He still needed to ask properly, though, otherwise Lance was going to drive himself mad.
First thing tomorrow, Lance decided, letting himself drift off.
-
A loud beeping woke Lance, who let out an undignified snort as he was pulled roughly into consciousness.
“Go back to sleep,” said Keith, quietly, swiping the alarm on his phone off and pulling his limbs away from Lance.
“Starbucks can go fuck itself,” mumbled Lance into his pillow.
He heard Keith chuckle softly.
“Yeah, I’d rather stay here.”
“Mmm,” agreed Lance, already slipping back into a peaceful slumber.
“No, wait!” Lance said suddenly, at full volume, wrenching himself upright and blinking viciously.
“What? Are you okay?” asked Keith, stopping his movements to sit back on the bed.
“What? Yes, I’m fine, I just need to tell you something.” Lance shook his head slightly, smacking his dry mouth together a little.
“Okay,” said Keith, slowly, hesitantly.
“I like you,” said Lance in a rush, before his sleepy brain could catch up to him. “I like you sort of a lot.”
“Sort of?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, I mean, I like you too, Lance,” said Keith, with a shrug.
“No, you don’t understand,” said Lance, really wishing he had some water. “I really like you, I think you’re, like, the best, and stuff, and I think we should date, maybe, if you want.”
“Oh, yeah, okay,” agreed Keith, nodding before going back to collecting his things together.
“Wait,” said Lance, sitting up properly, letting the duvet pool around his middle. “What? Yes?”
“Yeah,” repeated Keith, nodding once more. “I’ve liked you for ages, so this is the ideal solution, I think.”
“For fucks sake, Keith,” said Lance with a bit of a whine. “I’ve been stressing about how to tell you this for weeks now, you dickhead!”
“What?” said Keith with a small laugh. “How was I supposed to know that?”
“I said I fancied you, ages ago!”
“I don’t really remember, my brain goes a little foggy around you.”
“Keith, you have no right to be so fucking charming right now, I’m annoyed.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to work now,” said Keith, still grinning, “but I’m sure I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Lance with a small huff, letting his arms flop onto the bed.
Keith clambered back onto the bed to kneel in front of Lance, taking his face in both his hands and planting a kiss right on his mouth.
“Bye,” he said softly, kissing Lance one more time before getting up and leaving.
“Jesus fucking christ,” muttered Lance, clutching a hand to his heart and falling back into his pillows.