Chapter Text
It was just another day around the castle, and all the paladins plus Allura and Coran were awake, most of them still in their sleepwear. It was just another day, but something felt off.
Keith looked around the room, and he successfully spotted Lance. He was wearing an immensely large shirt and currently giggling at something Pidge had said to him, which obviously made Keith rest his chin on the palm of his hand and watch the scene play in front of him, because if you pass up watching something as cute as Lance McClain giggling while wearing clothing five sizes too big for him, what is wrong with you?
The longer Keith watched Lance, the more he wondered whose shirt he was wearing. It couldn’t possibly be his, since he didn’t exactly pack to go to space, and he had never bought clothing that big, or that yellow, at the space malls they’ve been to. Keith looked over at Hunk, and then back at Lance. The shirt Lance was wearing was, without a doubt, Hunk’s shirt. It was Hunk’s size, Hunk’s favorite color, and Hunk was currently wearing a version of the same shirt.
Keith let out a huff of air and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets because that — Lance wearing Hunk’s shirt to bed and to breakfast — pissed him off; it pissed him off way more than it should have.
He met Pidge’s eyes and quickly made his way to his spot at the table before Pidge could realize what was going on in Keith’s head. Although he gave his best efforts, Pidge slid into the chair next to him a few seconds later, and breakfast was still being prepared.
“So, have you noticed?” Pidge asked, tilting her head to meet Keith's eyes.
“Noticed what?” Keith replied, playing dumb.
"Well," Pidge started, using her best I'm a bratty schoolgirl voice, "Lance is wearing Hunk’s shirt, silly!” Pidge smiled as she continued on, “I wonder why? Maybe they were together last night?”
Keith’s fake innocence quickly converted to real anger, “They weren’t!” he defended loudly, then realizing how noisy he really was, “They weren’t,” he said quietly this time, clenching his jaw
“Hm, okay. Hey, do you smell that?” Pidge asked while smirking. Keith looked at her from the corner of his eye, silently saying uh, no? Pidge tapped her lips, “It smells like,” she paused, pretending to smell the air around her, “jealousy!”
“Hah!” Keith laughed, “Jealous? Me? Yeah right,” Keith answered scoffing, looking anywhere but at Pidge.
Pidge hummed before sliding out of her seat and waking over to Hunk and Lance.
Keith repeated to himself that they weren’t together last night, not like that. They’re friends, only friends. He told himself they wouldn’t do that, and each time he did, he asked himself, or would they?
Keith thought it throughout the entirety of breakfast.
Or would they?
“Keith,” Shiro said sternly, pulling Keith out of his thoughts because he knew that voice all too well, and he could tell he was about to be yelled at.
“Yeah?” Keith answered “Why are you so mad? I didn’t even do anything yet.”
“I’ve been calling your name for the past 2 minutes,” Shiro claimed, and even though he sounded angry, he only really looked worried.
“Oh, that’s my bad,” Keith said, obviously not paying any mind to it.
He picked up his fork, playing with the food in front of him as his mind screamed at him.
Or would they? Or would they? Would they, Keith? Are you truly sure that they wouldn’t?
“Are you okay, Keith?” Shiro asked, and Keith finally noticed how all of the others had put down their eating utensils to look at him with concern.
“Yeah, just fine,” Keith announced, “Hey, I’m finished, though, so I’m gonna go train,” Keith answered, purposely leaving out the thanks to Hunk for his breakfast. Petty, he knows, but his feelings got the better of him.
When Keith left the room and was out of earshot, everyone turned to look at Lance. He got the message.
“I didn’t do anything this time, I swear!” Lance defended himself, throwing his hands up in the air.
The team believed him, but then they gave him a look that said something different; go after him, and Lance did — Lance always would, in a heartbeat.
Lance turned the corner, the training room finally in sight. Not that he wanted it to be in sight, though, because what was being displayed in front of him was just all around upsetting. Keith was already straining himself; he only started training a little over five minutes ago, and he was already straining himself!
Keith must have felt Lance watching him because his head turned to face him, which placed him on the ground within a second since he allowed himself to get distracted. Lance ran into the room, yelling out, end training sequence, as he slid across the floor to help Keith sit up.
“Keith? Jesus, don’t do shit like that! What level were you even on?” Lance yelled, concern increasing.
I don’t know, who the hell keeps track of what level they’re on while in the middle of fighting?” Keith scoffed and Lance sighed, “Dorks, that’s who,” Keith added, tapping lance’s nose for no reason.
“Man,” Lance started, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on Keith’s worn-out body, “don’t do that shit,” he said quietly, taking Keith’s hands in his and giving them a squeeze before letting go.
Keith looked at his shirt, realizing Lance has yet to change. Which, yeah, it made him a little angry, but him not changing meant his thighs were exposed, and Keith was currently laying on said exposed thighs, so he has decided to look past the shirt thing for a moment.
Still, if Keith were asked if he would rather die in battle or die laying on Lance’s bare thighs, he’d say give me the thighs, without a moment of hesitation.
Keith looked up at Lance, “You haven’t gotten dressed?”
“I was going to change after this,” Lance answered simply, which made Keith sit up because once Lance said after this he felt like he was holding Lance from doing more important things.
“Is that Hunk’s shirt?” Keith accidentally asked since the question was marinating in his headspace.
“Huh?” Lance brushed off his legs and stood up, stretching, “Oh, yeah! I usually just wear whatever to bed, but last night I had no spare shirts washed, so I asked Hunk and he just gave me one of his, he’s a kind dude,” Lance answered with a smile growing on his face.
Keith smiled back, seeing that they wouldn’t! That Lance only borrowed a shirt from a friend, and there were no romantic feelings involved, “Yeah,” he agreed, “kind dude.”
Lance held his hand out to help Keith get up, and Keith happily took his hand.
As Keith walked to take a shower, already having parted ways with Lance, he still had a lot on his mind. Sure, there were no romantic feelings between Hunk and Lance, but it just didn’t sit right with him that Lance wore his shirt to bed, because, why couldn’t he just wear one of Keith’s? He would probably look adorable, and the more Keith imagined it, the more Keith wanted to see it.
Keith then had a dangerous thought. He thought that if he took one of his shirts that are on the larger side, and slipped it into Lance's closet, there was a good chance Lance might wear it to bed and then to breakfast, meaning Keith would get to see what he oh so desperately wanted to see.
After this though, there was no going back, even if he wanted to bail on the idea. Keith had already made his entire plan in his head by the time he was done showering anyway.
Just a few hours later, Lance was asleep.
Well, everyone was asleep, and Keith was supposed to be too for that matter, but he couldn’t just bail on his perfect plan — and so here he is, latching onto the largest shirt he owned. Of course, it was still a black V neck, but this one was long-sleeved and just a bit too big on Keith, not hugging his arms or midsection how he likes, meaning it would be loose on Lance, which was perfection.
He quietly opened Lance’s door, tiptoeing in as silently as he could, he glanced at Lance, who was sleeping peacefully — he looked insanely adorable. Keith clasped his hands together, and while still holding his shirt, he prayed to Mothman, Mothman, that he would be able to cuddle a sleeping Lance one day.
Keith started to walk towards Lance, getting the overwhelming urge to kiss his forehead as if he was sleeping beauty. Well, he’s a sleeping beauty, Keith muttered to himself, putting emphasis on “A.” Then, Lance rolled over and Keith realized he had a job to do, so he snapped out of his thoughts and focused. He shoved the shirt into the closet, right near the front, and then bolted out of the room — Quietly, of course, wouldn’t want to wake the sleeping beauty.
The next day at breakfast, Lance walked out in shorts and a regular shirt, which must have been the only thing he could find last night. Keith snickered to himself as he thought to himself that he now has another option for tonight’s sleepwear. Keith already knew tomorrow morning would be pure bliss for him; a dream come true.
Except it wasn’t, because Lance was wearing a red shirt and blue shorts, not Keith’s clothing. Keith rolled his eyes at the sight and put his head in his hands, hoping that tonight would be the night Lance picked out Keith’s shirt from his closet and slept comfortably in it.
Except, once again, he didn’t, and he didn’t for the next week. Today was different, though, extremely different. This was because Keith had finally lost hope in the success of his plan. He drowned in disappointment and embarrassment.
Yet, right when Keith accepted his defeat, things took a turn. Pidge sat next to Lance as Hunk prepared breakfast. Keith had his head on the table, but he could hear it when Pidge let out a loud, thoughtful hum, which grabbed his attention even though he didn’t look up.
“Lance, who’s shirt is that?” Pidge asked, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear that, like ever.”
Keith’s head shot up, and when he turned to look at Lance, he saw his shirt on him. The sleeves were past his palm, making it so Lance’s fingers were the only thing popping out at the end of the sleeve, and the V-neck ensured that Lance’s chest was showing more than usual, along with his shoulder. Keith wanted to take a picture, frame it, hang in on the wall for everyone to see, and write Lance in my shirt! My shirt!
Keith watched as Lance tried to pull the tag out to see the size since he was also unsure of who the shirt belonged to, and Keith realized something — his name is on the tag since Shiro made him label his clothing ages ago, and it became a habit.
“The tag says Keith ,” Lance paused, “but this shirt was in my closet...”
Pidge snorted, knocking Lance with her elbow, “You guys got something to tell us?”
Keith acted nonchalantly, speaking up before Lance had a chance to yell about how he’d never do such a thing with Keith, “Maybe our laundry got mixed up.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Lance agreed, I’ll...go change now so you can have your shirt back,” he mumbled nervously, just barely holding eye contact with Keith.
Keith continued his weak “ I'm cool and I don’t care” act, “No, it’s fine. It looks better on you, keep it,” he fought to keep himself from openly cringing about what he just voiced.
Though, he was happy when Lance’s immediately flushed red, saying “Oh! Well okay, If you insist..”
Keith studied Lance, though it’s not saying much since he does this often. Lance was fumbling with his hands in front of him, and wiggling his toes, which was fun to see happen because of something Keith said, but the most notable thing was his cherry-red face being paired with a small smile as he looked down at the ground.
Keith smiled at him, and he stopped once he thought about how he probably looked lovesick to anyone around him. Keith stood up, worrying that he was starting to think Lance had feelings for him, which was stupid and fully wishful thinking, and Keith really didn’t mean to voice this next thought out loud, but he did.
“Real bold of me to fall in love with Lance Mcclain, real bold,” he laughed dryly, now sitting on the ground of his room, the door still open.
— and after he accidentally voiced that, somebody screeched out “Bold of you to what?!”
Keith slowly clasped his hands together, once again praying to Mothman, since that was something he did now, apparently. Except that this time he prayed for Mothman to do him a slight, slight favor, and simply erase him from existence.