Chapter Text
The day starts at 5 am.
It’s considerably far much earlier than Keith has grown accustomed to in the past year, but, and rather disdainfully, he figures he doesn’t have much of a right to complain, especially considering the circumstances.
Still, he isn’t particularly fond of waking before the sun, and much less of waking to his elder brother flicking his bedroom lights off and on in a repeated sequence before sauntering over to his bedside and eagerly shaking at his shoulder until Keith groaned in sleepy acknowledgment, all while blabbering something about schools and carpools and probably some other number of things that Keith had missed in his drowsy state.
“Matt’ll be here in fifteen.” His brother Shiro tells him when he finally manages to sit up in bed, the red comforter falling and pooling down at his waist, exposing his upper body to the cold of his bedroom. He shivers lightly and then frowns, the gears in his mind moving slowly but surely as he processes his brother’s words. It all takes him just long enough for Shiro to leave the room, do whatever it is adults do this early in the morning, and then pop back in again to check on Keith’s waking progress.
Now significantly more coherent than he was a few seconds ago, Keith’s frown grows even deeper, and he sends his brother a distasteful look just short of a scowl. “And you chose to wake me now?” he asks in accusation and a little bit in offense, voice still raspy from sleep. If he was being honest, he only managed to snag a handful of hours the night prior, way too out of his own mind to do anything but stare at his ceiling from nine till two as his nerves went haywire about the upcoming day.
Today was Keith’s first day at a new school.
It’s not unlike him to relapse like this before starting afresh in a brand new environment, and having been moved from school to school as a kid when his father had bounced around for work acted as testimony to this poor habit of his.
There wasn’t something in particular that wrought this type of reaction from him, and according to the incoherencies Keith himself had cursed and mumbled in between the ragged gasps and breaths that Shiro had been so incredibly unlucky to witness two years ago (he almost had a full blown anxiety attack himself when he saw his little brother sat on his knees and pulling at his hair in desperation), it was more of a collection of things that made his lungs go tight and his face burst in suffocating warmth.
It was almost everything about starting a new school that overwhelmed Keith, Shiro worriedly came to find out. From the dizzying unfamiliar territory to the unwanted plethora of eyes watching his back and the dramatically loud whispers that simultaneously agitated and intimidated him. There was also the difference in academic curriculums, something in which Keith always ends up stressing out about even though there was no need because he was a stupidly smart kid that was always at the top of his class.
Realistically, the only thing Keith potentially has to worry about is keeping out of trouble.
All his life he had been placed in dingy public school after dingy public school, all drab and dreary and not very memorable, but always with a constant of groups of rowdy boys that would happily pick fights with Keith right on the first day and Keith, being the new kid with an unbearable burning in his chest that surely will still be there even if he moves away again in three weeks, would outright refuse to back down from any them, and would not hesitate to smash his fist into some poor kid’s face.
(And then there’s Keith’s adamant problem with any and all authority, which is a whole other thing in and of itself.)
Progress had been made when he first entered high school, and he no longer fought with anyone who looked at him the wrong way, but then last week happened and now he was here, blinking tiredly from the lack of sleep and glaring at his brother with bloodshot eyes, bed head, and a boxer’s fracture that was bandaged yet still tender.
Keith curls his cold fingers and throws his bedsheets to the side. His socked feet meet the carpeted floor with a soft thump. Shiro leans his shoulder into the doorframe and seems to bite down a smirk. “You would’ve gotten all glowery if I woke you sooner.” he tells him, a knowing look on his face. Keith blinks slowly at him, like a deliberating cat. It does sound like him, given that his last school G-Tech started at 8 am and wasn’t far of a walk, therefore he would wake ten minutes before the first bell and be right on time. Any sooner and he’d be cranky until lunch.
Still, Keith resents that. “I don’t glower.” he says in half-assed defense, knowing full well that yeah, he glowers sometimes, when the situation calls for it.
Take last week, for example.
Galra Tech was a grade A high school, one of the top schools in the country in fact, but it lacked in proper student etiquette, i.e. practically everyone there was an ass and there wasn’t even one person Keith could stand for longer than a minute. This, of course, also extended to the teachers (hence Keith’s earlier mentioned problem with authority), and all Keith did in that school was glower, a permanent sneer stuck onto his face. That and get into too many fights than one can count on one hand.
He broke a kid’s nose last week. He was kicked out.
“Yeah, you do. Matt’ll be here in ten,” Shiro replies easily before leaving Keith to his own devices, going out into the hallway to do who knows what and not bothering to close the door behind him. Keith narrows his eyes at the empty doorway and scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.
Keith stands from his bed and cradles his right hand with his left, gently holding the bandaged fingers. “I thought you said fifteen,” he calls after his brother as he sulks at the open door. As expected, Shiro pokes his head back in, smiling brightly, almost impishly.
“Yeah, five minutes ago.” he says in a dumb tone, and then disappears again. Keith grunts.
Briefly, he considers rolling himself back up into his sheets like a swaddled newborn and calling it a day even before it could actually begin, but then (and rather begrudgingly) he remembers all the great lengths Shiro had gone to in order to enroll Keith into this new school.
After the incident, practically every school in the county was wary about accepting a student with a record of one too many demerits in conduct and a lawsuit (though abandoned). Even Altean Academy, Shiro’s old high school, had initially turned down Keith’s application when they got a whiff of the situation.
It wasn’t until Shiro had talked to his lawyer and then pulled some strings with one of A Academy’s guidance counselors (in which he knew very well and still talked to even though he had graduated three years ago) that Keith was accepted with some conditions put down by Northlove County’s and A Academy’s administration.
Those conditions included weekly meetings with Mr. Smythe and agreeing to the notion that no other noses will be broken within the duration of his senior year of high school.
Keith leaves his room.
With not enough time to shower, all he does in the bathroom is hurriedly brush his teeth with Shiro’s weirdly fruity cavity-preventing toothpaste (it tastes like shit but his brother would just scold him and tell him to buy his own if he complained about it and Keith can’t be bothered to actually do that) and apply some deodorant when he admits to himself he wasn’t smelling all that pretty this morning.
Shiro takes up to buzzing around his ear like an insisting bee, hopping all around their small apartment over and over, doing little morning tasks of his own before popping in on Keith every other second to ask if he was decent yet. Keith rolls his eyes and gives him a hard no each time he suddenly materializes by his side, but each time Shiro only nods, seemingly understanding, and then reappears with the same question.
Faintly, Keith thinks he’s doing it on purpose, just to annoy him. (Or, possibly, to distract Keith from his First Day nerves, which sounds more likely because Shiro is just like that.)
“Here, eat up,” Shiro chirps happily at Keith when he finally emerges from his bedroom dressed in all black save a large red cardigan which probably was Shiro’s once if the wide shoulders and long sleeves were anything to go by, and hands him a peach fruit cup and a chocolate chip granola bar. Keith shoulders his schoolbag into a comfortable position and takes the snacks with his good hand, amused.
“Mm, yum. Breakfast.” he responds dryly, blinking up at his brother. Shiro raises an eyebrow, squints down at him, and then reaches forward, the pointer finger of his prosthetic hand sweeping the inner corner of Keith’s eye. Keith flinches and then pulls a face like he’s about to sneeze. He bats Shiro’s hand away.
“Yeah, mm, yum,” Shiro deadpans as Keith prys open the chilled fruit cup with his teeth. He perches his hand on his hip. “You don’t like it when I wake you to eat with me.”
Keith fiddles with the plastic on the cup and sips at the juice. “You’re a terrible guardian.” he says flatly before tipping his head back and slurping up most of the diced peaches so he wouldn’t have to use a spoon. Shiro blinks at him and then pushes his hand down so Keith nearly chokes.
“I will unadopt you.” he threatens with zero malice.
Keith finishes his cup. “Nah, you’re too soft.” he quips automatically and all too knowingly. Shiro scowls at him and taps his head with his open palm, just hard enough to sting a little, but doesn’t say anything regarding the statement. Keith rubs at the spot without complaint.
It was true, really. Shiro would rather throw himself in front of a moving car before letting his little brother end up in the foster system again. (Keith was only in it for a couple of months back in middle school, right after his father passed away and before Shiro’s mother had adopted him, but he’s told Shiro enough about what he experienced in the homes that he had transferred back and forth from to scare and scar the older kid into the protective big brother he never got to be.) Keith silently appreciates it.
A light ding quickly cuts through their conversation and has Shiro fishing his phone from his front pocket. “Matt’s here.” he says with a special little smile that Keith would have loved to tease if he was slightly more awake at the moment.
Though he would sooner dig his own grave than admit it, Keith found Shiro’s friendship with Matt Holt sort of endearing, and he had never met another person that made his older brother laugh the way Matt does. (It must be nice, is what he means, and he’s happy for Shiro for finding such a friend.)
“Let’s go.” Shiro’s hand claps his shoulder, skims up Keith’s neck, and threads itself into his hair, giving it a short goodhearted ruffle. Keith then groans in annoyance, shivering at the sensation, and then slaps the back of his own head just to get rid of it. Shiro laughs and then practically skips out the door like an energetic bunny rabbit. Just how excited was he to see his friend? He just saw him yesterday for crying out loud! Keith doesn’t understand him.
He pockets his granola bar and throws away his empty peach cup.
He follows.
There’s a slight breeze outside and it’s soft against Keith’s pinkening nose as it gently tousles his hair into his eyes and mouth. Keith spits away any strands stuck on his lips and then tucks them away behind his ear as he locks up, house key twisting left then right until there is a deep click. He turns the doorknob for good measure and it doesn’t budge.
Satisfied, Keith walks toward the minivan stilled at the end of the driveway.
Matt Holt waves at him happily through the darkened glass of the driver's seat, a big smile on his freckled face. Keith lifts a shy hand in return and slides the door open, stepping inside with his head ducked cautiously, not wanting to hit his head. Expectedly, his brother is already perched in the passenger’s seat. Unexpectedly, there is another person in the car, and Keith nearly falters in surprise.
“Morning Keith! D’you mind going all the way to the back? I’ve got more to pick up.” Matt cuts in before the weirdly familiar stranger behind Shiro could say anything.
Keith blinks. “Uh, yeah. Sure,” he says, and then starts his awkward waddle to the furthermost right seat. Once he’s settled, the stranger in front of him slides the car door closed per Matt’s request, though they grumble a little under their breath when they sit back down and buckle up again. Matt only laughs at them and then looks up at Keith through the rear view mirror.
“How’s the hand? Must’ve sucked. Heard Shiro got you into A Academy. Pidge goes there too, they can show you around if you’d like.” Matt offers, tone all chipper like it usually is as he pulls out back into the street.
Keith’s cheeks go hot. “Oh, no, it’s okay—”
“That’d be great, actually!” Shiro immediately cuts Keith off, beaming at Matt with his one thousand megawatt smile before looking over his shoulder and giving Keith a threatening look. “We’d appreciate that lots! Long as Pidge’s cool with it.”
The stranger—Pidge—looks up from where they were tapping away on their phone and looks between Shiro’s smile and Keith’s slight grimace. “Oh yeah, it’s no problem. I can help out.” they say with a nod as they nudge their big round glasses further up their nose (now that gesture is very familiar and it’s only until now Keith realizes oh, this is Matt’s younger sibling), though Keith suspects the quick agreeance is due to Matt staring Pidge down with a look that screams “Go ahead and disagree with me, watch what happens.”
Keith locks eyes with Pidge.
“I’m Katie, but you can call me Pidge. She/they,” they roll a shoulder casually even as they both share a knowing exasperated younger sibling look that neither Matt or Shiro seem to notice. Keith nearly snorts.
“Those don’t correlate at all,” Keith says automatically, not entirely thinking it through. He cringes at his own straightforwardness, but Pidge only barks out a quiet laugh into their palm.
“Yeah,” they agree almost flatly, tone dry but amused. Keith flushes up to his ears.
“Keith. I’m a senior.” he says, ignoring the annoying red warmth growing in his face.
“Oh, I’m a sophomore actually, but I’ve got mostly senior friends though, so they can help show you around too. They’re the ones we’re picking up right now.” Pidge tells him and Keith can only nod as to not embarrass himself again. He needs to breathe. Calm down his nerves even for a few minutes. He can practically feel his heartbeat in his throat at the moment.
“Wait, Pidge, who else did you say we’d have to pick up again?” Matt suddenly calls with a knit in his brow, leaning back in his seat though his eyes were kept on the road. Pidge looks away from Keith (which he lets out a quiet sigh of relief at because, finally, and he was starting to squirm under their curious gaze) and leans into their knees, stretching out their seatbelt more than necessary.
“Oh, Allura’s car is in the shop right now, something about the engine or something, so she asked if we could pick her up and drop her off for the rest of this week.” Pidge explains to their brother, who drawls out an ohhh and nods his head as he does.
“Okay, we’ll get her first then, since she lives closest. Hunk ‘n Lance after.” he says more to himself than to his younger sibling, though Pidge nods in agreement. Keith finds himself grabbing his heart by the strings and yanking at those reins to slow the rhythm of their beat behind his rib cage. He manages to calm down his nerves just as Pidge turns in their seat and addresses him with a sloped smirk.
“So did you actually beat a kid up?” They ask with teasing yet genuine interest. Keith flushes again.
“Katie Holt! You can’t just ask that!” Matt then gasps dramatically, apparently scandalized by the somewhat innocent question.
Pidge turns to stick out their tongue at their brother as they cross their arms in front of their chest. “Well you guys won’t tell me what happened and it’s nicer to ask upfront than just assume! Plus,” Pidge then turns back to Keith, “Keith is a big boy, he can decide whether or not to tell me. I just wanted to know what’s up, honest. You don’t need to tell me.”
Keith chuckles awkwardly, willing away the warmth in his face. “Well, technically I didn’t beat him up. I just broke his nose,” he clarifies before lifting his bandaged hand and showing Pidge his broken fingers. “And his face broke my hand.”
Pidge gapes at him unblinking, looking on at him almost in awe. Keith doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
“You broke his nose. You just broke his nose. You just broke his nose.” Pidge says slowly, taking their time to process the information. They look away, down at their own hand, before looking back up and just repeating what they said before. If they weren’t in a moving vehicle Keith bets they would’ve walked away with their head in their hands, going over the phrase in unbroken tandem.
“He broke my hand,” Keith says weakly, not thoroughly understanding what exactly the big deal was. Noses are pretty fragile, and they are not very hard to break. Of course the types of punches Keith’s fists could give would be able to break a nose. He packs a killer right hook.
As if they weren’t put into a trance of disbelief just seconds before Pidge perks up and shakes their head. “Nuh uh,” They tut smartly, holding up their index finger. “His face broke your hand. The force of the punch you gave broke your hand. All I’m hearing is he had no chance against you and your fist.”
Keith stifles a laugh, scoffs instead, and for the first time this morning he feels oddly at ease. “Well, he deserved it.” he says before crossing his arms, pointedly ignoring the warning glance Shiro sends him through the rearview mirror. (Didn’t Matt need that?)
Pidge raises their hands defensively. “Hey, I’m not saying he didn’t, but like, was it worth it? Where’d you even go?”
Keith freezes.
Now, it’s not he feels bad about his situation or is ashamed of it (actually, he is a little embarrassed, but it’s mostly for Shiro and how he had to deal with G-Tech’s principal seeing as how the kid whose face Keith had punched in was her son’s), but technically the whole ordeal was under the administrative discretion of Galra Tech, Altean Academy, and even the entirety of Northlove county because G-Tech’s principal wanted to sue Keith and Shiro at first.
Only after some charges, contracts, and contacts with lawyers, Keith’s “aggressive behavior” was chalked up to needing “intensive therapy” by an experienced professional (in this case, A Academy’s guidance counselor Coran Smythe) and a big old expulsion from G-Tech.
So legally, he’s not really supposed to talk about it.
“Ah, well,” Keith sets his mouth into his clammy palm, growing warm all over again. “I went to—” The last few words he says are warbled and sound nothing reminiscent of the english language.
Pidge frowns at him and tilts their head. “Huh? You went where?”
What proceeds is just another combination of sounds that mean jack to either of them. Pidge sends him a flat look when he then repeats the gibberish once more. “Keith, dude, c’mon.” they say, nearly fed up.
“Gawa Tek,” Keith insists as if it means anything.
Pidge squints at him. “Gawa…Tek…” They frown, feeling the words in their mouth. Their eyes then go big and wide, green and gleaming. “Galra Tech?! You went to goddamn Galra Tech?!” Pidge screeches in a jumble of emotions, shock written all over their face as they lightly bounce in their seat.
The van comes to a sudden halt.
Pidge’s twisted torso veers forward violently thanks to their overly stretched seatbelt and the back of their skull bangs the back Shiro’s head rest. Keith sputters at them after he fixes his own belt (which had nearly choked the hell out of him) and almost panics himself into a frenzy for not knowing how to help before Pidge sits up all on their own, groaning as they cradle the back of their head.
“Holy shit, Matt, fuck.” They curse all at once as they settle back into their seat. Matt hums.
“You should’ve been facing forward,” he reprimands with an innocent tone, both of his hands resting mockingly at ten and two as if he actually drove like that. You’d be lucky if he even bothers to use both hands in the first place.
“I was talking to Keith!” Pidge exclaims, gesturing behind themself and toward Keith. Keith purses his lips and then nods, agreeing. That was a sentence he’s never heard before.
“Good excuse.” Matt then chortles, as if reading Keith’s mind, before looking back at Keith through the rearview mirror and winking cheekily. Keith rolls his eyes to the side just as he spots a new figure hurriedly walking up to the minivan with a flailing limb. Keith shifts in his seat nervously. He sees Pidge wave back and not ten seconds later the door slides open for the new stranger.
“Hi, hello, good morning!” An english accent greets happily and breathily as the stranger (Allura, Keith presumes) crawls into the van with a sight crouch. “Thanks for picking me up by the way, my car was being such a pain.” She complains to Matt with a sarcastic, exasperated drawl as she slides the door shut. Her eyes then fall on Keith and twinkle like little gems.
Keith tries a smile, but ends feeling too queasy to go through with it. The stranger doesn’t seem to mind. She sits herself right at Keith’s side. She buckles up as Matt starts driving, fixing her long platinum hair to sit in front of her shoulders before turning to Keith with an easy smile.
“Hi, you must be Keith!” She says brightly as she holds out her hand for Keith to take. Keith flinches in surprise. “Pidge told me you were the new transfer! You’re new to A Academy, right? I’m Allura Quinn!”
Keith blinks at her. Allura’s eyebrows furrow.
“Like Principal Quinn.” he says without thinking, not even asking, much like he did with Pidge and their names. His face goes hot all over again and his heart starts to beat in his throat rather than his chest.
Allura only blinks back at him, surprised by the non-question. She blushes. “Ah, yes. I’m his daughter. That’s not weird for you, right? I know your transfer here was rather special—not that I know any, uh, specifics, since it’s personal information not meant to be accessed by other students and, uh, yes. Principal Quinn’s my father.” Allura rambles sheepishly as her blush travels further up her cheeks.
Keith chuckles nervously. “Um, no it’s okay, I just—I don’t have good experiences with principals’ kids.” he says as he awkwardly takes Allura’s outstretched hand with his good one, the angle not really working for either of them. Allura only nods like she fully understands his predicament without needing any background information about it.
“Um, right,” she says, taking her hand back into her lap. “So, if you don’t mind, why are you transferring to A Academy? Where’d you go before?”
Before Keith could answer either question Pidge turns in their seat, tuning into the conversation with a mischievous grin. “He punched a kid in the face.” they state smugly, as if they were proud of Keith for having done so.
“Pidge!” Keith hisses in embarrassment as Allura’s eyes widen at Pidge.
“Really?” She says in disbelief before tilting her head back toward Keith. “How’d that go over?”
Keith rolls a shoulder. “Almost got sued,” he says on automatic before adding “And expelled. Well, I got expelled. So now I’m going here. To Altean.” He gets the point across with as little detail as possible, but then Pidge huffs, squints their eyes at Keith, and opens their big fat mouth Keith didn’t expect they’d have. (He should’ve. They are Matt’s little sibling after all.)
“He broke a kid’s nose so they kicked him out and now he’s going to Altean with us.” They summarize, blinking innocently when Keith sends them an unimpressed look.
Allura puffs up her cheeks and Keith can’t tell if it’s in astonishment or judgement. “Wow…” she drifts lightly. “Was it worth it?”
Keith thinks.
Had it been worth it? Throwing away a much desired spot at Galra Tech? One of the most exemplary schools in the country? Keeping all the doors it could’ve opened up for him under lock and key just to feel the sweet satisfaction of punching one of the most annoying people he’s ever met in all his seventeen years of life directly in the face? Had knocking G-Tech’s principal’s son down a peg or a two (or ten) been worth all those lost opportunities?
…Actually, you know what? He already knows the answer to that question.
“I kinda wish I didn’t have to break my hand for it but yeah. It was worth it. He deserved it,” he says.
Unexpectedly, Allura barks out a laugh. “Ha. Remind me not to get on your bad side.” she teases.
Keith smirks. “Will do.” he says as he casually leans back into his seat, much more relaxed than he was earlier this tired morning.
Considering the last time he switched schools (actually no, let’s not think any more about that, Keith’s not really in the mood to reminisce about that shitshow), things were going extremely well today, and he hasn’t even stepped foot on campus yet.
He deeply hopes it stays that way.
The van then comes to a much gentler halt at the end of a new driveway lined with lively oranged shrubbery. They’re in a slightly more rural part of town now, where houses edge the line of the thick stretch of Northlove Forest, with less intersections and a lot more trees.
Curiously, Keith watches as a new figure emerges from their home, school bag and medium-sized tupperware container in tow. They shout something into the house, a bid goodbye, before closing the front door and making their way down to the van, a big smile pasted on their lips.
“Ayy!” Pidge cheers as they unbuckle and slide the door open for the new stranger before plopping back into their seat and promptly beginning to bounce in great excitement. “Whatcha got for us, Hunk?”
The stranger—Hunk—gives out happy good mornings all around with a warm smile upon his lips before settling down in his seat parallel to Pidge, the scent of hot coffee and cocoa following suit.
Promptly, Hunk hands their tupperware container off to Pidge to slide the van door closed and buckle their seatbelt. “I’ve got chocolate chip-marshmallow, fresh out the oven about fifteen minutes ago!” They exclaim as Pidge hands back the container, prying the lid off to reveal the soft brown cookies. Pidge and Allura both lean in, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over them dreamily. Keith can practically see their mouths water.
“Ready?” Matt then asks over his shoulder, eyes peering through the crook of his seat and the car door to check up on Hunk. Hunk nods with a smile like sunshine and gives Matt a confirming hum.
When Matt starts driving Hunk turns in his seat to face Pidge better and then holds out his cookies. “Try’em! They turned out really good and I already had a few so,” He says, and immediately Pidge and Allura stick their hands into the cookie container and take a few of the cookies at a time.
Shyly, Keith looks the cookies over, not entirely sure if the offer extended to him as well.
As if he read his mind, Hunk turns to Keith, yet another smile on his face. “You’re Keith, right? I’m Hunk! Want a cookie?” Hunk rattles the container at Keith, and Keith feels his face flush slightly. He nods shyly, and then grabs a cookie from the tupperware, giving it a small bite as Pidge ogles him intently.
“Well?” The sophomore asks him, eyebrows high on their forehead in anticipation. Keith’s eyes flicker down to his lap, a little surprised and put off by the excessive staring from the kid.
“It’s good.” He says with a slight nod of his head, involuntarily growing more and more shy by the second. He wipes invisible crumbs off his mouth before then looking up to Hunk. “You baked them?”
Hunks nods enthusiastically. “Yuh-huh! My moms helped me out too since they were already baking for Momma’s book club.” He says before turning away to offer Shiro and Matt his homemade treats.
Keith hums appreciatively around his cookie.
Just as he finishes it off, Hunk swivels around in his seat while closing up his tupperware, a slight pout appearing on his lips. “Hey, do you think Lance’ll want any this time?” He asks mostly towards Pidge and Allura.
At the mention of a new name, Keith simultaneously perks up and slouches into himself. He had forgotten there was one more person that was going to carpool with them. Nervously, he wipes his palms on his thighs and decides to listen into the conversation half out of curiosity, and half out of anxiety.
“Well,” Pidge starts as they chew at their cookie thoughtfully. “He’ll probably be too full to have any because of breakfast. Best to ask during lunch.”
Allura nods along as she leans in to add onto Pidge’s reasoning. “Yeah, and you know how Mrs. McClain is! The big breakfasts and everything. Loverboy’s probably gonna be stuffed.” She says with a light, airy laugh. Hunk and Pidge giggle along.
“Aw, I wish I ate breakfast. I would’ve, if it wasn’t for someone,” Pidge then raises their voice in a rather obnoxious tone as they send a glare toward the side of their older brother’s head, “who just had to get to their boyfriend’s place at exactly five fifteen like he had promised even though he could’ve spared a few minutes!”
Keith finds himself laughing at the joking stab at Matt, and fully enjoys the faux argument that ensues between both of the Holt siblings.
The amusing show is then cut short when the van stops in front of a new house for the last time. The area is still a little more rural than Keith and Shiro’s place, but is closer to the main bustle of town and A Academy than Hunk’s place. The length of the Northlove Forest had faded away only a block ago.
Keith rubs his hands on his thighs again, feeling the overly familiar prickle of nerves dancing at his fingertips and swirling in his stomach. He’s not sure if he can handle so many people in such an enclosed space with him. Where was this person going to sit anyway? The floor? That can’t be safe, right?
…Wait a minute.
Annoyed, Keith looks up at the ceiling with a silent groan after recognizing the familiar beginnings of an anxiety attack. He glares down at his shaking hands and breathes in slowly to calm himself down.
One, two, three, four, five. There are five fingers on his left hand. One, two, three, four, five. There are five fingers on his right hand. Two of them are broken. There’s a black hair tie on his wrist. His fingernails are black. His boots are black. There are rips in his jeans. His sleeves are really long. This cardigan is a really nice shade of red.
Keith sighs. He’s fine. He’s doing good. He’s doing great. He’s doing so well in fact, that he doesn’t even realize the van door was wide open and a new stranger was already steps inside, a chorus of good mornings sung like praises as he does so.
The stranger smiles gently at his friends and he crawls inside, but as soon as Keith catches his eye he goes about as still as a statue.
This guy—Lance, Keith’s brain helpfully supplies from earlier—seems to pale a little. Keith frowns and then shifts in his seat. What exactly was with all the staring this morning? It’s starting to make him a little uncomfortable. Was this guy okay? Was he sick or something? He looked a little sick to Keith, and he was only judging solely by how unbelievably tired he looked. Lance had heavier eye bags than Keith ever did during finals week last school year.
“Hope you like to squeeze!” Matt then chirps, breaking the weird trance/staring contest thing that had been going on between the two boys.
Keith watches silently as Lance shuffles forward only to pause in the middle of the van, his head ducked down to avoid hitting the low roof. Rather absently, Keith concludes that Lance must be taller than him if he had to slouch down that much. Maybe just a couple of inches, though. Not too much.
Allura then breaks pats at the small space between her and Keith’s thighs with a smile. “Oh c’mon, Lance. He doesn’t bite.” she tries to reassure, though to Keith it seemed like it only made Lance blush and the others giggle. Hell, he even gave a chuckle of his own.
And before Keith could even register it, Lance was squeezing himself right in between Keith and Allura, long limbs pushing into their already crowded space. Keith quickly shuffles back and away from him as far as he possibly can as Lance begins to settle in. The guy takes a whole minute to fumble his backpack off, and when he does so he almost hits Keith with said bag and then nearly knocks his elbow directly into Allura’s face.
When Pidge slams the van door shut, Lance jolts in surprise, and then knocks his head right into Keith’s.
What the fuck, Keith thinks as he gives out an immediate hiss as his bandaged hand reflexively goes up to cradle his throbbing head. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He insists through gritted teeth, glowering as he distantly wonders what the hell he even did to deserve any of this today.
Lance, annoyingly enough, seems unable to articulate any form of words, as all he does is stutter and Keith has to repress the urge to roll his eyes as they fall down to his boots. It’s not like he was mad or anything, it just had really fucking hurt.
“You dropped your keys.” Keith points out flatly as he spots a blue lanyard at his feet, picking it up with his unbroken fingers. Lance makes a weird sound and quickly takes his lanyard from Keith, shoving them into his jeans before crossing his legs pointly.
Unfortunately, whatever point he was trying to make fell incredibly short when he ended up kicking the side of Hunk’s face. Hunk let out a startled cry.
Keith’s eyebrows shot up as Lance frantically tried to take his foot back down to apologize, but Hunk seems to find it more amusing than anything else, taking Lance’s foot in his hand and moving it away before he twists in his seat with a big smile.
“Keith, this is Lance,” Hunk introduces as he nods his head toward Lance and then back at Keith. “Lance, this is Keith.”
Being unexpectedly put on the spot made Keith’s nerves flare like a firework, and without thinking, Keith stuck out his hand like Allura did this morning, body fully on autopilot. Inwardly, he cringed. Lance only blinked down at his hand, like he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do with it.
I am so sorry, just take it please, Keith thinks pleadingly as if Lance could hear him. Before Keith could awkwardly admit defeat and take back the offer however (it’s getting hot in here and oh, that’s definitely his heart beating against his eardrums), Lance finally seems to catch on, and he takes Keith’s hand without any protest.
Oh thank god, Keith thinks in an embarrassing amount of relief as they shake hands like actual decent people. Lance’s hand is cold and soft, and it makes Keith realize that he’s sweating.
“Shiro’s brother. You remember Shiro, right?” Hunk then asks Lance, pointing Keith’s brother out in the passenger’s seat.
As Lance gives Shiro a glance, Keith takes up to wondering why he hasn’t let go of his hand yet.
“Pothole!” Matt suddenly yells over everyone, sounding much happier than he should, and Keith’s anxiety spikes as high as it can because the entirety of the van rises and falls in a way vans are not supposed to, rattles everyone inside, and suddenly Keith has a lap full of Lance.
Panicked, Keith finally snatches his hand back (what exactly was that about anyway? Was Keith supposed to let go earlier?) with a catlike hiss. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” Keith repeats more to himself as to not blow his rapidly shortening fuse. He focuses on getting Lance off his lap as quickly and as non-threateningly as he possibly can all while his hands shake and his face burns red hot in embarrassment instead.
Once Lance is off of him, Keith feels his nerves subdue to nothing but a gentle tingle in the tips of his fingers, relief having washed over him like a cleansing wave. He lets out a deep and quiet breath to get his heart rate back under his control. He counts his fingers. One, two, three, four, five. Five fingers on his left. One, two, three, four, five. Five more fingers on his right. Two are broken.
Okay. That wasn’t so bad, right?. He got through it. Whatever “it” was. He’s fine. He’s good. He’s great.
Shyly, Keith peeks over at Lance, hoping he didn’t give off too bad of a first impression. Unfortunately, Lance pays absolutely no attention to him—in fact, he was not only turned away from him, but his eyes were closed shut like he was trying not to burst a vein right then and there.
Well. That can’t be good.