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March twenty-fifth.
The day of Detective Lance McClain’s hearing in front of Commissioner Iverson to decide his fate in the NYPD, all of which is entirely dependent on whether or not he has anything that can warrant a full-blown investigation on civic leader Ellen Sanda, who Lance himself has been investigating for months.
Lance has spent the past twenty-four hours scrambling, putting together every clue, every scrap of evidence that might give him even a sliver of a chance. And with all that he’s found, there’s no way that the Commissioner can deny him one.
“So Detective McClain… do you have any evidence you’d like to present on your behalf?”
The million-dollar question. Months of research, months of surveillance, months of late nights and early mornings at the precinct have all led to this very moment. Lance shares a subtle, meaningful glance with Captain Shirogane sitting beside him, and takes a deep breath.
“No,” he answers calmly, despite every fiber of his being screaming for him to say the exact opposite. “I have nothing.”
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
The Captain told him to meet in the precinct’s parking garage, hours later. Lance shows up a half hour early, because he has nowhere else to be and he’s too restless to do much of anything else in the meantime.
He’s been perched on the hood of Shiro’s car since he arrived, wringing his hands, running them through his hair, pacing back and forth and sitting back down again. Not much longer has passed before he finally hears a familiar voice call his name.
“Lance!” His head snaps up to see Keith walking quickly toward him, hands already held up in an incredulous gesture. He immediately pushes himself to his feet as Keith reaches him. “What was that, did Shiro tell you to get suspended?”
“No,” Lance shakes his head frustratedly, raking his fingers through his hair for what has to be the millionth time tonight. “He told me to get fired.”
Keith’s jaw drops, his brow creased in utter bewilderment. “Why?”
“I don’t know! I’m kind of freaking out, he just said to do it and the next thing I knew I was yelling at Iverson—”
“McClain.”
They both look up at the sound of the Captain’s voice, and Lance frowns at the sight of him with a small group of well-dressed, professional-looking men. He shares a look with Keith as they approach. “Uh, hey? What’s going on?”
Shiro wastes no time, motioning toward the man closest to him. “This is Special Agent Thace with the FBI.”
“FBI?” Lance hears Keith mutter beside him, echoing his own thoughts.
Thace steps forward to speak before either of them can voice their confusion. “We believe that Sanda may have ties to the Sendak crime family.” Lance’s eyebrows shoot up and he feels Keith stiffen beside him as Thace continues. “We couldn’t let you expose Sanda, otherwise it would’ve compromised a much larger ongoing investigation.”
Keith scoffs, tossing a hand into the air. “What, so he had to go and get fired just so you guys could save your own tails—”
“The Sendaks have moles inside the NYPD,” Thace interrupts, ignoring Keith’s huff of annoyance. “And we needed you to get fired for real, because we need them to trust you.”
“Need them to trust me,” Lance murmurs thoughtfully, and then abruptly shakes his head as if just coming out of a daze. “Wait, what are you saying?”
“Detective McClain, we’d like you to go undercover and help us with the investigation. Now, this will be a long operation, and it could be very dangerous. You should take some time to—”
“I’m in.”
Keith’s head whips toward him at the same time that Shiro frowns. “Lance, this is a pretty big decision.”
“Are you kidding? The answer’s yes,” Lance insists, feeling his mouth stretching slowly into a grin. “This has been, like, my dream since I was a kid.” Shiro’s eyes narrow, looking unconvinced, and Lance presses his hands together and holds them up pleadingly. “Sir, c’mon. Just let me have this.”
Shiro shrugs, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s not my choice to make.”
Lance grins and turns back to Special Agent Thace. “When do I start?”
(He soaks in everything Thace tells him like a sponge, blood pumping with adrenaline and mind racing with unanswered questions; but he misses the way Keith looks at him while he listens, brow pinched and mouth tugging down into a troubled frown. If he’d noticed, maybe he would have stayed.)
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
Six months.
That’s how long Lance will be undercover.
He’s already told Hunk that he can have his desk, and Allura his locker, and Keith all of his open cases before Shiro shuts him down, amusement ringing in his voice. “McClain doesn’t have the authority to do any of those things. Everyone sits at their own desk and works the cases I assign you. But—” He places a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder and offers a small, genuine smile. “We’ll miss you, Lance.” Lance firmly takes Shiro’s outstretched hand as he lowers his voice, speaking just for Lance to hear. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Lance smiles. “Always, Captain.”
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
It takes hardly any time for Lance to pack up his things. He takes the chance to clean out his desk of trash and old notepads full of addresses and suspect names, and find some old pictures and “souvenirs” from previous cases hidden away in the drawers. Mostly he tries not to overthink what he should keep and throw out, because in the big picture he doesn’t think it really matters.
Also, he’s in a bit of a hurry to say one last goodbye.
He spots just the person he’s looking for outside, after he’s skipped down the front steps of the precinct with a single box in his arms to the sidewalk where his car is parked.
“Keith?” Keith stutters to a stop just in front of his motorcycle and turns, and Lance breathes out a small sigh of relief. “Oh good, you’re still here.”
“Hey, Lance.” Keith smiles, readjusting his backpack over his shoulder as Lance meets him on the sidewalk. “Miss me already?”
“Ha, ha,” Lance deadpans, shifting the box in his arms to get a better grip, and maybe give himself something else to focus on other than the sudden, nervous fluttering in his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wanted to see you before I go because—we just, never really got a chance to say goodbye.”
Keith’s smile falters the slightest bit, eyes lowering to the box in Lance’s hands. “Oh. Yeah.” There’s a brief moment of quiet, the only noise that of the city around them until Keith looks back up, one corner of his mouth tilting up into a smirk. “You made a pretty big scene in there.”
Lance winces, glancing back at the front doors of the precinct. “I just hope I sold it. Gonna be pretty awkward if I come back.”
“Hey,” Keith scolds lightly, reaching out to nudge Lance’s shoulder. “When, not if.”
“Oh, obviously.” Lance cracks a grin. “I can’t let you have all the fun back here.”
Keith rolls his eyes, although his smile never disappears. He tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, kicking at a pebble on the ground. “So this is really happening, huh?”
Lance’s stomach does a small flip, and he stares down into the contents of his box. “Yeah. It’s definitely happening.”
“It’s a pretty cool case. I gotta admit, I’m kind of jealous.”
“Yeah? Well, I can help get you fired if you want, turns out I’m really good at that.”
Keith snorts, and Lance can’t help but smile when he lifts his hand to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, still chuckling at the ground. Lance swallows, licking his lips and shifting the box in his arms again in an attempt to ignore the even more insistent fluttering in his chest and the slowly building sick feeling in his stomach.
“Hey, um—” He looks down just in time for Keith to look back up, shuffling his feet. “I just wanted to say something to you, before I go.”
Keith’s brow furrows questioningly and he straightens. “Okay?”
“Well—” Lance cuts himself off with a small exhale, suddenly finding it difficult to make eye contact. “Look, I don’t want to be a jerk, or overstep or anything because I know you’re dating Rolo and things are going really well, it’s just…”
He trails off, shifting his weight a little, and Keith’s eyes narrow in that very specific way they do when he’s trying to figure something out. “What’s going on?”
Lance’s gaze flits to the side as he tries desperately to fight down his nerves. He knew this was going to be hard, but that’s the point, right? This is supposed to make him feel better, put everything out in the open so they can both be completely, totally honest with one another. So he clears his throat and forces himself to look directly at Keith, still waiting expectantly for him to explain himself.
“It’s just that I don’t know what’s going to happen on this assignment,” he starts, trying his best to tamp down the gnawing feeling in the pit in his stomach as Keith frowns. “And I don’t think I would be able to forgive myself if I didn’t say anything before I lost the chance, so, uh.”
Keith’s hands slip out of his pockets and back down to his sides. “Lance, you’re officially freaking me out. Is everything okay?”
“Okay here goes,” Lance breathes out, glancing up and inhaling a lungful of air before finally mustering up the courage to look back down at Keith and say what he’s been dying to say for months now, probably. “I really wish something could happen between us. Romantically speaking.”
He doesn’t give himself much time to gauge Keith’s reaction, other than the way that his frown disappears, and his eyes widen slightly before Lance barrels on to avoid being interrupted. This is already hard enough as it is, so the shorter he can make it, the better.
“And I know it can’t, because you’re with Rolo, and I’m about to go undercover, and that’s just how it is, so… yeah. That’s, um—that’s what I wanted to say.” He swallows down the uncomfortable lump that’s started to form in his throat and stares down into his box, which suddenly feels too heavy for some reason. Keith remains completely silent as Lance clears his throat awkwardly. “Anyway, we—I’m not supposed to have any contact, so I should go. The city needs me, or whatever.” He chances a quick glance up at Keith, offering a half-hearted smile that he knows doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess I’ll see you in six months.”
Then he steps around Keith to head to his car, despite the selfish part of him that desperately wants to stay.
“Wait, Lance—” Keith’s hand darts out to grab Lance’s arm, effectively stopping him in his tracks. Lance turns in surprise, nearly losing his footing on the curb but just barely managing to stay balanced. Keith looks about as startled as Lance feels, blinking once, twice, three times before he looks down at where he’s gripping Lance’s jacket. He immediately lets go, quickly lowering his hand back to his side. “I just—” The sound of chatter from a police radio interrupts him, and Lance glances over Keith’s shoulder at the source of it, watching another officer enter the precinct.
It distracts him long enough for Keith to teeter forward, take hold of Lance’s shoulder, and pull him down to kiss his cheek. Lance’s brain shorts out, head snapping back to look at Keith, and honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t dropped his box entirely. Keith ducks his head and tucks another piece of hair behind his ear, but not in time for Lance to miss the faint shade of pink dusting the bridge of his nose under the lamplight. “Just—come back safe,” he mumbles.
Lance stares at him as he turns away and slips his arm through the other strap of his backpack, taking his helmet from the handlebars of his bike and shoving it onto his head. Then he climbs onto his bike, kicks back his kickstand, and pauses at the last second to look back over his shoulder, as if he can still feel Lance’s gaze on him. Lance can’t even see him—the visor of his helmet is too dark—but he still finds himself holding his breath.
For a moment, neither of them move. Then, almost faster than Lance can blink, Keith turns around, revs the engine, and peels away from the curb, speeding out onto the road and leaving Lance standing motionless on the sidewalk. Lance watches after him until he disappears, and even then he still doesn’t move, heart skipping in his chest and skin tingling where Keith had pressed his lips to his cheek.
What does that—did Keith just—
Lance realizes belatedly just how strange he must look right now standing frozen in place staring out into the dark, and shakes himself out of his daze long enough to stumble further down the block to his car. His mind is racing as he struggles with his car keys, and finally manages to unlock the passenger side and shove his box inside before walking around to climb into the driver’s seat.
What does that mean? his brain wonders frantically. What did that—what does that mean?
He pulls the door shut and heaves out an enormous sigh, flopping his arms over the steering wheel and dropping his forehead to the top of it, staring down at his feet.
“This is gonna be a long six months,” he mutters.
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
Hunk is the first to greet Lance when he comes back.
He squishes Lance into a suffocating hug and maybe sheds a tear or two (or ten) before letting him back down to his feet, although still keeping him trapped against his side with an arm around his shoulder.
“I missed you too, bud,” Lance grins, patting Hunk’s shoulder as the rest of the squad gathers around them. “What’d I miss?”
“Captain caught the Marmoran Mangler,” Allura starts, folding her arms and shifting her weight onto one side.
“Pidge and Matt blew up the microwave,” Hunk adds.
“The microwave was an accident,” Pidge interjects, at which Lance snorts. “And it was Matt’s fault.”
“And now you have thirty seconds to say anything you want to say before I tell everyone to get back to work,” Shiro chimes in over Matt’s indignant squawk of protest, expression impartial despite the amusement in his voice.
“Challenge accepted,” Lance says immediately, thrusting a finger in his direction. “Alright, listen up people, here are the undercover highlights: I stopped exactly three bar fights, started one for undercover reasons, sang Piano Man with a bunch of Russian mobsters and bonded for life, was once in a room with ten men named Varkon and I missedyouallsomuchnowgetbacktowork!”
“They don’t take orders from you,” Shiro interrupts, earning a round of snickers from the squad as Lance pouts. There’s a pause as Shiro lets it sink in, and then: “Everyone back to work.”
Hunk gives Lance one more squeeze before obediently releasing him from his side, the rest of the squad moving to disperse. Allura shoots him a smile and heads toward her desk, and Matt gives him a hearty thump on the back as he passes by with a grin. Lance looks up at Shiro when he stops beside him on his way back to his office, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He smiles, something warm and gentle that Lance knows is always there but that he still rarely sees. “Glad to have you back.”
“Glad to be back,” Lance responds, flashing a smile of his own.
(He’s glad to be back, but he can’t help but notice his own sinking feeling of disappointment as he watches everyone walk away, eyes searching the room for the one person he’s missed the most but is the most anxious to see again.)
Lance finds himself moving reluctantly toward his own desk, gaze still sweeping around the precinct as he absent-mindedly sets down his bag. He glances over at the desk adjacent to his, eyes falling on the neatly stacked files on its surface and empty chair pushed underneath it. It makes something cold and uncomfortable settle in the pit of his stomach, a bundle of nerves and anxiety that’s followed him for practically all of the six months he was undercover. He takes one more good look around the room just to make sure and then shuffles in Allura’s direction, trying his best to look inconspicuous.
“Hey, ‘Lura.” He slips into the seat beside her desk and clears his throat as she looks up from the report she’s working on. “Do you happen to know if—I mean, I just couldn’t help but notice but, uh… is Keith around?”
Allura tucks her pen behind her ear and leans back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s lovely to see you too, Lance.”
Lance huffs, kicking one leg over the other. “Allura, c’mon—alright, fine. I missed you and your fancy hair and the posh way you say my name and making fun of dumb criminals on our lunch break.” Allura nods, satisfied, as Lance flops his arm across the desk. “Now would you please just scratch my itch?”
Allura wrinkles her nose. “I wish you wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that.”
“What? Is it a crime to want to know why there’s a missing person on our squad?”
“Is there a reason you’re speaking solely in police terms?” Allura laughs as Lance drops his forehead onto her desk with a thump, sending a few sheets of paper fluttering across its surface. “Alright, alright. Keith is out working a case right now.”
Lance blinks, and quickly lifts his head. “Oh. Of course, that—duh. Makes sense. We’re cops. Cops work cases.”
Allura offers another small, sympathetic smile, which frustrates Lance as much as it relieves him, because he hasn’t even said anything about it and yet she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “He really did want to be here,” she says softly.
Lance’s first instinct is to ask how she knows that. Did Keith say that? To Allura? Did he specifically tell Allura that he wanted to be there when Lance got back?
“It’s fine,” Lance shrugs, waving his hand in the air in a vague gesture and slouching back in his chair before his mind can spiral into an endless loop. “No big deal, I was just wondering. Just because—I mean, no reason, specifically.” Allura lifts one eyebrow as Lance clears his throat again. “But just out of curiosity, how’s he been doing? In general, I mean. As in—I don’t know, any big cases? Or like, big things happening in his life that I’ve missed? Not that I need to know absolutely everything about his life, but as his very good friend who hasn’t seen him in six months I feel obligated to ask, and seeing that he’s not here at the moment I might as well ask you and now you’re laughing at me I can see it on your face stop that.”
Allura really does laugh at that, holding her hands up defensively. “I didn’t say anything!”
Lance sighs, sinking even lower in his seat until his chin hits his chest. “You didn’t have to.”
“Anyway.” Allura shakes her head, stifling the rest of her laughter behind a hand. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. Keith’s been… Keith. Very—Keith-like.”
“Wow, very descriptive,” Lance deadpans. “I feel so much more knowledgeable about Keith’s life now.”
“Glad I could be of service,” Allura hums, pointedly ignoring the way that Lance rolls his eyes at her. She pushes her chair back and stands, patting Lance’s shoulder as she slips into one arm of her jacket. “I’ll see you later tonight? Assuming Hunk already told you about—”
“My ‘welcome back’ surprise party?” Lance finishes. Allura bites back another smile, and Lance chuckles. “Without any prompting.”
Allura shrugs her jacket the rest of the way on and winks, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Welcome back, Lance.” Lance heaves another sigh and sits up as she turns to leave, and she walks halfway across the room before stopping and turning again. “Oh, there is one thing that happened that you should know about.” Lance narrows his eyes as she tosses her hair over her shoulder, one corner of her mouth tilting up into a very knowing smirk. “Keith broke up with Rolo about two weeks after you left. Just in case you were wondering.”
Lance cycles through so many conflicting emotions at that exact moment, he’s not sure how he doesn’t combust on the spot. A surge of sympathy, and relief, and hopefulness all mixed together that feels simultaneously selfish yet unapologetic.
“Wait, wh—he did—huh?” he sputters, feeling a blush creeping up his neck at the sound of Allura’s satisfied laughter ringing through the room. “I mean—uh, okay? I don’t know why you’d think that’s relevant to me, but—“
“Because you asked!” Allura calls over her shoulder, and then slips out of the room before Lance has a chance to respond, leaving him sitting frozen and utterly bewildered beside her desk as her voice echoes in his mind.
“Keith broke up with Rolo about two weeks after you left.”
Two weeks after he left, and two weeks after he confessed to Keith, and two weeks after Keith had kissed him on the cheek and told him to come back safe.
Don’t overthink that, Lance thinks. “Don’t overthink that,” he mutters to himself, just for good measure.
Even so, he can’t help but wonder… is it foolish to hope?
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
He feels a bit selfish for not being in the most celebratory mood at his own welcome back party.
He’s felt like that a lot lately. There’s a direct correlation there, but he’s not very keen on diving into it right now. He puts on a good front anyway, keeps a smile on his face and laughs at all the right things and accepts whatever drinks he’s given, even though he knows he’ll end up leaving it at an empty table for another lucky customer to find.
Hunk fills him in on just about everything, and Lance does his best to listen to it all. He mostly succeeds, despite how often his attention drifts elsewhere because there’s still a tiny part of him that hopes he’ll show up. Allura catches his gaze more than once, and offers a reassuring smile (albeit teasing) each time before he looks away. He and Matt tease Pidge for a while for having to argue with the bartender that no this isn’t a fake ID, yes I’m over twenty-one, yes I am a cop and no this is not a fake badge either! But even that only distracts him for so long, until he’s back to wandering the bar and making small talk while he waits for someone who may not even show up.
It’s hard to tell when he should give up. He comes back into work tomorrow, there will be more than enough opportunities to see Keith at the precinct—which might be for the best, honestly. And yet, even as the night goes on and the rest of the squad begins to leave, he stays behind. Allura finds him sitting at the bar later with an untouched club soda, lazily swirling through it with a straw.
She slides into the seat beside him without a word, politely waving away the bartender before he asks if she’d like a drink. The bar has emptied out for the most part, except for the small groups scattered about, the sound of voices and laughter mixing with the clinking of glasses and music and noise of the televisions playing in the corners of the room. Allura stays quiet, arm pressed against Lance’s, content just to sit and observe it all. Lance doesn’t know whether to feel bad or relieved that she isn’t trying to make conversation, but either way he appreciates her company while it lasts.
He looks over a few moments later when her arms shifts against his and she slips back to the floor, resting a hand against his back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lance.”
“Yep.” He tries for a smile, unsure how much of a smile it actually is. “See you.”
She smiles back, eyes searching his for a moment longer before she drops her hand and turns to leave. Lance watches her back until she disappears into what’s left of the crowd and then returns his attention to his drink, still full and equally as unappealing as it had seemed before. He’s not sure why he even bothered to order it, now that he’s thinking about it.
He would go home, but he knows he won’t sleep. Thinking about how exhausted he’ll be tomorrow already fills him with a sense of dread, but he can’t really help it. There’s too much on his mind and he doesn’t see that changing any time soon, so might as well stick around so he has some background noise to soften the volume of his thoughts. He pushes his drink away with a sigh and leans back in his chair, resting his hands flat against the counter.
“This seat taken?”
Lance starts slightly at the sound of a voice just behind him and looks over his shoulder, half-expecting to have to politely turn someone away, and fully not expecting to see—Keith. Dark hair swept messily across his forehead, cheeks a bit rosy like he’s been out in the cold, a playful tilt to his smile that sends Lance’s heart into a series of somersaults, despite managing to keep a cool composure. Keith raises an eyebrow as Lance’s mouth stretches into a grin, and his chest starts to swell until he thinks it might burst. “It is now.”
Keith’s smile grows at that, and Lance watches (stares, maybe) as he shrugs his coat off and climbs into the seat beside him. “I thought maybe I’d be too late. Is this for me?” He reaches over and slides Lance’s drink toward himself before Lance can even respond.
He chuckles as Keith takes a sip, shuffling in his seat to better face him. “Sure. I wasn’t drinking it, anyway.” His chest feels full, and his body warm all over as Keith swallows, wrinkles his nose at the drink, and then proceeds to take a second sip anyway. “Allura said you were out working a case.”
“Nuh-uh,” Keith shakes his head, and Lance’s brow furrows in confusion as he looks down at where Keith is now poking his chest. “I came here to talk about you, not me. You’ve been undercover for six months and I wanna hear all about it from you before everyone else spoils it all.” He pulls his hand away and props his elbow on the counter. “So spill.”
Lance blinks at him as he dips his head to sip at his straw, head tilted to look at Lance. He lifts an impatient eyebrow when Lance still doesn’t respond after a moment, and it’s so simple but so incredibly Keith-like that it has Lance breaking out into a smile because god, he missed this.
“Alright, but you asked.” He kicks one leg over the other and props himself back against the bar to make himself comfortable, feeling all too satisfied at the subtle lift to Keith’s mouth. “Prepare to be blown away.”
And before he knows it, he’s telling Keith everything. He tells him everything he told the rest of the squad and then some, and incredibly, Keith listens to every single word. Lance can’t help but start to worry that he’s talking too much, but Keith orders another drink for himself halfway through and Lance takes that as a sign that he’s not planning on leaving anytime soon. It feels so natural, the way they slip so easily into conversation together like Lance hardly spent any time away at all.
It’s the most Lance has really felt like himself since he left.
Keith is laughing at something that Lance just said, which Lance himself has honestly already forgotten because he’s too busy focusing on the way Keith tosses his head back, and scrunches his eyes, and covers his mouth with one hand to quiet his own chuckles, and any thought Lance might have ever had that his feelings would change after those six months undercover promptly flies out the window.
A lot has changed, yes. And yet nothing has.
He must be staring again, because Keith’s smile seems to falter somewhat when their eyes meet again, and his brow creases. “What?”
Lance opens his mouth and pauses, letting out a small breath and shaking his head slightly. “Nothing. I’m just… really glad you came.”
His stomach flips nervously when Keith doesn’t reply immediately, gaze seeming to search his face before it finally settles. “Yeah. I’m just glad I made it in time.”
“You were late, actually. Like super, ultra late, but I guess it’s always better late than never.”
Lance laughs as Keith bumps his shoulder with a half-hearted scowl. “Hey, I got here as soon as I could, McClain.”
“I know you did,” Lance assures him, nudging him right back with the absolute opposite of a scowl, because his chest is too light and content for him to even try. “Seriously. Thanks.”
“S’the least I could do,” Keith mumbles, gaze returning to his drink, and Lance can’t ignore the way his heart stutters when he reaches up to push his hair out of his eyes.
They fall into a comfortable silence then, as the rest of the night continues to bustle on around them. It’s comforting even, just to be able to sit together like they have so many times before, after a case or during nights out with the squad. At the very least it gives Lance some time to collect himself, bouncing his knee a bit nervously underneath the bar as he tries to muster up the courage to bring up what he’s been dying to bring up since Keith arrived, even if it might be an awful idea.
“Hey, uh—” He pushes a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck, lowering his gaze to the counter as Keith looks over at him. They’re getting dangerously close to the topic of what happened the night Lance left, and he still can’t decide if that should make him nervous or not. “I heard about you and Rolo.” He can’t quite read Keith’s expression when he chances a look back at him, but he swears he sees the corner of his mouth twitch and he can’t tell if it was going to go up or down, or which way he would have preferred. “I’m sorry, man.”
Keith seems surprisingly unbothered, shrugging as he glances back down at his drink and swirls it around. “It’s okay. Happened a while ago, so I’m pretty much over it.”
Lance does his best to tamp down the flare of selfish disappointment in his stomach. “Pretty much, huh?”
Keith pauses, tilting his head and pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Alright, I take it back. I’m totally, completely, one hundred percent over it.”
Lance lets out a huff of surprised laughter as Keith downs the rest of his drink, lowering his glass back down onto the counter with a thunk. “Moving on so soon?”
“It’s been months,” Keith protests lightly, propping his chin in his hand. “So I should hope so.”
He looks genuinely unperturbed by the topic of conversation, completely at ease as Lance tries to process things as quickly as possible. Maybe that makes it easier for Lance to ask his next question without feeling like he’s totally overstepping.
“So—” he swallows, giving his attention to Keith’s now empty glass in what’s probably a very poor attempt at being casual. “What happened, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking,” he adds quickly.
If Keith is at all caught off guard by the question, he does a great job of hiding it. He puffs out his cheeks and lifts his head to cradle the glass in both hands, slowly spinning it around. “I mean, nothing really happened, I guess. I just didn’t really see it going anywhere. Plus… turns out he wasn’t really the kind of person I’m looking for.”
Now he’s the one looking down at his glass, and Lance takes full advantage of the opportunity to study him without getting caught. It’s funny, because he hasn’t had a single sip of alcohol all night and yet he feels like he’s taking a lot of chances he wouldn’t usually take. “And what kind of person are you looking for?” he asks softly.
Keith’s mouth tilts up at the corner, but he doesn’t look up. “Oh, I don’t know. Kind of tall, kind of funny, really smart, good sense of humor but makes god-awful jokes.” Lance doesn’t mean to hold his breath, but he finds himself doing so anyway when he sees that look on Keith’s face; something soft, and quietly fond in every sense of the word. “Great with kids, terrible taste in music, somehow manages to make even the most boring day fun.”
Lance chews on his lip a little, gaze flicking down to his hands before he glances sideways at Keith, then away again. “That’s pretty specific.”
“Yeah, well.” Keith lifts a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, smiling into his glass. “Maybe that’s because I already have a specific guy in mind.”
Lance doesn’t ask who, even though he thinks he has a good idea of who it might be. He’s felt bold tonight, but not that bold. He swallows, curling his fingers into his palms. “He sounds nice.”
There’s a very brief moment of quiet, and then: “He is.” Lance risks a look at Keith, and his gaze settles on him just in time to see Keith looking away, back down at the counter.
It’s hard to misinterpret that, no matter how hard Lance tries. He takes a deep, silent breath to steady himself. “You have good taste.”
And Keith laughs at that, bright and pleasant among the din of the bar, so much so that it’s impossible for Lance not to smile, despite himself.
“Yeah. I guess I do.”
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
At this point, Lance isn’t sure what’s taking him so long.
It’s only been a week since he came back from being undercover. Two weeks? All the time blends together now, honestly. Either way, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore—whatever this is—between him and Keith. He’s engaged in his fair share of obliviousness, but there’s absolutely no denying the fleeting glances, the constant smiles, their usual amount of witty banter multiplied times infinity.
Allura won’t stop shooting Lance these very meaningful glances across the precinct. Lance ignores all of them.
The point is: there’s absolutely nothing holding Lance back from asking Keith out anymore, and yet he can’t seem to bring himself to do it. He’s been trying to work up the courage all night at his desk, sneaking peeks at Keith across from him and brainstorming what he should say or do, if he were to say or do anything. It’s about time for him to call it a day, and he knows the same goes for Keith, so tonight would be an ideal night to actually do something about… all of this. Making a plan is his top priority at the moment. It’s been easy enough, since as of right now Keith is so laser-focused on the report he’s writing, he wouldn’t even notice if Lance was openly staring at him.
Maybe he’s so laser-focused on watching Keith that he jumps when his phone buzzes, vibrating loudly against his desk. He picks it up to see a message from Allura.
Whatever you’re thinking, just do it
He turns to see her staring his way, casually leaned back in her chair. His cheeks burn as she lifts an eyebrow and nods in Keith’s direction, and even then he finds his gaze following the gesture. Keith is chewing on the end of his pen, brow pinched as he practically glares down at the papers scattered in front of him. Lance can’t help but smile a tiny bit when he blows a small piece of hair out of his face, only for it to fall right back where it had been. His phone buzzes again.
I really, really wish you could see the look on your face right now
Lance makes a show of turning off his phone, just for Allura. He takes his time cleaning up his desk, stacking his folders into a neat pile and shutting off his computer. Keith is scribbling across his papers when Lance shoots another quick glance at him, dumping a couple of pens into his desk drawer. His entire body suddenly feels full of nervous energy, buzzing all the way out to his fingertips and through his toes. He’s running out of ways to stall, which is unfortunate because if he doesn’t do anything tonight, he’s afraid he never will.
He fiddles with his stack of folders for another moment, a bit overwhelmed by the unsteady beat of his heart and the literal butterflies in his stomach. It’s almost nauseating, and he briefly wonders how in the world he ever managed to say what he said to Keith that night six months ago, and why this feels so much harder. His eyes flick over toward Allura despite all of his previous efforts to ignore her, and she gives him a subtle, encouraging nod before turning away. Lance bites his lip and glances one more time at Keith, who’s now frowning down at his papers.
C’mon, man. You can do this. It’s now or never.
He clears his throat and sits straight up in his chair, leaning his elbows on his desk. Keith remains blissfully unaware of it all, tapping the pen against his chin as Lance takes a deep breath.
“Hey, Keith—” Lance starts, at the exact same moment that Keith scoops up his file and stands.
Keith looks up a bit distractedly and frowns slightly, like he’s just now realizing he’s still around other actual human beings. “Yeah?”
“Uh.” Lance blinks up at him, feeling totally, completely, mercilessly thrown off balance. “I—are you leaving?”
“Hm?” Keith blinks back, and glances down at the file in his hands before he finally seems to snap back to reality. “Oh. No, I just need to run down to the evidence locker to check something.” His gaze flicks back up to Lance, fully attentive and almost expectant, and Lance panics a little at the abruptness of it all. “Why? Did you need something?”
Lance is pretty sure his mouth is open, but it’s not working very well. “Um, no—er, I was just leaving,” he stammers, cringing inwardly. “Telling you. That I’m leaving.”
Maybe it’s just Lance, but Keith’s shoulders seem to slump the slightest bit and his brow creases. “Oh. Okay.”
“Yep,” Lance nods, emphasizing the end with a pop. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow.” (Is it just him, or does Keith almost look disappointed?)
“Uh, yeah. See you tomorrow.”
Keith seems to hesitate, but only for a split second before he turns and walks away, tucking his folder under his arm as he does. Lance watches him go until he disappears into the hall that leads to the evidence locker, and promptly slumps back in his chair and buries his face into his hands with a muffled groan. A moment later he hears the sound of approaching footsteps, but he doesn’t have to look up to know it’s Allura. He slides his hands down his face and lets them fall into his lap as she lays a hand on his shoulder, her own bag already packed up and slung over her shoulder.
She offers a small, sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Lance.”
“Not your fault,” he mumbles, focusing glumly at a loose thread in his jeans.
She squeezes his shoulder. “Next time.”
Lance just nods, reaching up to rub his forehead as her hand slips away and she goes to leave. He sits still as he listens to the sound of Allura’s receding footsteps until they fade into the noise of the precinct, staring at Keith’s empty chair at his empty desk. It stares back at him, and after a moment he inhales deeply, dropping his head back to stare up at the ceiling before he picks up his bag and stands, tossing the strap over his shoulder.
His coat doesn’t do much to protect him against the cold, seeping through his sleeves almost immediately after he steps outside. Although, he doesn’t mind it all that much when it serves to distract him from everything else, if only for a few seconds. He jogs down the front steps of the precinct and slowly starts toward his car, staring down at the sidewalk and stepping over the cracks just to give himself something to do.
Next time, he thinks weakly, but he doesn’t sound very convincing even to himself. I’ll ask next time.
Lance doesn’t think he believes in fate, but honestly? He is seriously reconsidering his beliefs when he just happens to look up right as he’s passing Keith’s bike. His feet stop moving before he remembers telling them to and he finds himself standing smack in the middle of the street, his original destination completely forgotten. He hardly even notices the freezing gust of wind that goes by, staring at Keith’s bike parked against the curb.
It’s not too late, some tiny little part of his brain says. He licks his lips and bounces on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets. The overhead street lamp flickers slightly. Someone’s headlights flash somewhere down the road, and Lance glances over his shoulder at the precinct.
“Oh my god,” he mutters to himself, but he’s already turning around and walking back toward the building with a new sense of determination.
He feels flushed and out of breath when he makes it back up the steps and rushes through the front door, eyes already searching for Keith again. His desk is still empty, but it’s been a couple minutes, he should be back from the evidence locker already—
It’s ironic how he nearly runs straight into the person he’s looking for because he’s too focused on looking for said person. He screeches to a halt just in time, which is just as well, because Keith is too busy having another staring contest with the file in his hands to notice him coming until he’s standing right in front of him.
He looks up with a start, blinking owlishly. “Oh—Lance? I thought you were leaving.”
“I did,” Lance blurts, and then winces when Keith’s brow creases in confusion. “Was. Er—I’m back.”
Keith glances in the direction of their desks, then back at Lance. “Did you forget something?”
“No,” Lance shakes his head, and he knows he’s flustered but he can’t seem to hide it at this point. “I mean—kind of?” Keith’s expression is growing more and more confused by the second, so Lance forces himself to slow down and breathe. “Actually, I was looking for you.”
Keith raises his eyebrows slightly. “What for?”
Lance also knows that the violent churning in his stomach is just a bunch of metaphorical butterflies, but he’s decided in this very instant that he now hates butterflies. “Well, I was just—I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a drink with me, catch up a little?” Keith blinks again, and his eyebrows raise just a fraction higher, high enough for Lance to panic a tiny bit and rush onward. “It’s just that last time we talked all about me and didn’t get a chance to talk about you at all, so—I thought it could be nice. We don’t have to, obviously, I just wanted to ask.” His voice trails off a bit at the end, and he hugs his arms to his sides and studies his feet as he waits for Keith’s reaction. The fact that several beats pass before Keith reacts at all, is—not very reassuring.
“Oh,” is all Keith says at first, still looking a bit confused. Lance holds his breath as he looks back down at the file in his hands. “Uh, well… I still have to finish this report and get Shiro to sign off on it.”
Lance tries really, really hard not to let his heart sink too far in his chest, and even harder not to let the disappointment show on his face. “Okay. Yeah, of course.” He shrugs a bit too casually, and Keith looks up as he takes a small step back. “Rain check, then. Maybe another time—”
“But I’ll meet you outside?” Keith interrupts quickly, before Lance has the chance to move away any further.
It’s Lance’s turn to blink, his mind going almost entirely blank. Keith is watching him expectantly, something anxious but altogether hopeful underneath his expression that reignites what little hope Lance has left. “Yeah, for sure,” Lance finally manages, and he’s so glad he did because Keith’s mouth turns up into a small smile. “Sure, and I can drive if—”
“Or we could walk?” Keith offers. “It’s not that cold, and Balmera isn’t that far.”
It’s literally freezing outside, but Lance isn’t about to argue. “Okay. Yeah, sounds good. Meet you outside in ten?”
“I’ll be there in five.”
Lance can’t deny the warm, giddy feeling welling up in his chest as he huffs an amused laugh, stepping backward. “Fine. See you in five.”
Longest five minutes of Lance’s life.
He spends the first three pacing back and forth on the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps, hands stuffed in his pockets as his mind races frantically. In hindsight, he’s not sure he ever thought he’d make it this far. The next minute or two he spends leaning against one of the columns in front of the precinct, occasionally glancing up toward the doors for any sign of Keith.
(Not that anyone’s counting the time, but Keith comes out thirty-three seconds early.)
Lance is fully aware of his face breaking out into a grin as Keith comes down the steps to meet him on the sidewalk. “Ready?”
Keith smiles and nods in confirmation, and Lance notes the way that he quickly brushes a piece of hair behind his ear as they start down the block in the direction of the bar. Their footsteps quickly fall into sync as they walk, hunching underneath the collars of their coats to protect themselves against the cold. Lance feels a bit self-conscious, suddenly hyper-aware of his every movement, careful to keep a bit of distance between himself and Keith.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” Keith asks eventually, kicking at a small rock on the ground.
Lance’s eyes follow its trajectory until he loses it in the dark. “I don’t know. I mean—whatever you want to talk about, man. I feel like I’ve missed out.”
“Missed out on what?”
Missed out on you, Lance thinks. “Just like, life stuff, you know? A lot can happen in six months.”
Keith hums noncommittally, tugging at one of his coat sleeves. “I guess so. A lot has definitely changed since you’ve been gone.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
Their arms keep brushing now with every step, but neither of them seem to mind. “Um… me, I think?”
Lance snorts, glancing sideways at Keith to see his lips pursed in thought. “You think? How so?”
“I’ve just—realized some stuff,” Keith answers, voice trailing off a bit.
“Stuff,” Lance echoes.
“Mhm. Stuff.” Keith looks down at his feet, brushing some more hair out of his face. “Romantically speaking,” he says quietly.
If that’s not a confirmation of everything Lance has been obsessively wondering about since he got back, he doesn’t know what is. They’re silent again for a moment, the only sounds that of their feet scuffing against the pavement and the noise of the surrounding city and late night traffic—and Lance’s irregularly beating heart, but hopefully Keith doesn’t hear that. Lance clears his throat, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground. “I think I know what you mean,” he replies softly.
Keith doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t have to. They continue to walk side-by-side for a while, content not to speak and just to listen. Even now they’ve drifted closer still, and neither has made any indication that they’ll move away anytime soon.
Lance thinks it’s very much intentional when their hands brush, although which of them actually initiates it he isn’t sure. But he is sure of everything that happens after that: the way his breath catches in his throat when they brush again, and Keith’s touch lingers still even when it should be gone; of the way his stomach leaps at the warmth ghosting over his knuckles, and when he feels Keith’s fingers curl tentatively around the inside of his hand; and of the way his heart climbs up to make itself at home in his throat as he reciprocates and they slide their palms together, fingers carefully entwined.
Their arms are pressed together completely now, and he’s not looking, but Lance can only imagine that Keith is struggling just as much as he is to hold back the smile growing on his face. He resists the urge to turn away and press a hand to his mouth, because he doesn’t think that’d do much. Keith’s hand is warm and solid in his, and walking to a bar that’s half a block away in the freezing cold just to make this happen? Totally, irrevocably worth it.
He bites his lip, keeping his gaze ahead and smiling into the dark. “So, you think I’m funny?”
Keith bursts into laughter and Lance grins as he’s shoved in the shoulder, and Keith only manages a breathless shut up that Lance knows he doesn’t actually mean before tugging on his hand and pulling him right back into his side, warm and secure and right where Lance feels he should be.
This is what coming home feels like, he thinks idly, as he squeezes Keith’s hand and Keith squeezes back.
And he’s never been so happy to be home.