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Keith was really good at keeping his emotions under wraps.
He hardly ever showed a thing on his face. Once, Lance had made a (hilarious, he might add) joke, and while the entire room was cackling, Keith barely reacted, just giving a small smirk of amusement. Even when he’d failed his midterm, he barely looked upset– he’d just sighed, closed his laptop, and asked Lance if he was ready for dinner. Lance never knew what he was truly thinking, with his steely gaze and blank stares and relaxed posture.
Yes, Lance never knew what he was truly thinking, until Keith got some alcohol in his system.
***
The living room was way too crowded for Lance’s taste. Don’t get it wrong, he was an extrovert, but even he had his limits of where people turned from rejuvenating to absolutely draining. But it was Shiro’s birthday, and Shiro was wildly popular, so of course, everyone and their mother had shown up to his party. And Lance was starting to get overwhelmed.
He was standing awkwardly at Hunk’s side as he shared a story about one of his professors, surrounded by a group of girls who were batting their eyes at him. Hunk either didn’t notice or didn’t care, telling his tale with a large grin. Meanwhile, Lance just stared down at his solo cup that reeked of beer, swirling it occasionally. It wasn’t like he didn’t like to drink. He did, but his anxiety was too high, and his stomach was swirling, and he just… couldn’t take another sip.
“La-a-a-ance!” a voice called, catching his attention. Lance lifted his head, searching for the source. Wiggling their way through the crowd was Keith, being trailed by Shiro.
“Keith, Keith, stop–” Shiro tried to say, grabbing for Keith’s arm, but Keith slipped out of his grip and ran straight into Lance’s arms.
Hugging him.
Lance lifted his hands to keep from touching Keith, thoroughly confused. “Uh… hi, buddy?” Lance said slowly, glancing over at Shiro, who’d finally caught up to Keith. “What’s, uh… what’s going on?”
“Sorry,” Shiro breathed out, shaking his head as his brows furrowed. “He’s a little… a little drunk.”
“‘M not,” Keith protested, finally releasing Lance from his embrace, but only backing up slightly, grinning up at Lance. “Are you having fun?”
“I am,” Lance said, unable to help the smile on his lips as he added, “It seems like you’re having fun, too.”
Keith nodded, grinning. His face was flushed bright red, clearly a side effect from the alcohol. “I am,” he agreed, almost giggling. “I’ve been looking for you, Pretty Boy.”
“Pretty Boy?” Lance’s eyes widened in confusion as he looked to Shiro for clarity. “How much did he drink exactly?”
Shiro scratched his neck, saying, “He and Adam got into a shot competition.”
“I won!” Keith said proudly.
“He did not.”
“I love this song!” Keith gasped suddenly, grabbing Lance’s arm. “Dance with me!”
“Keith, I dunno,” Lance said as he was dragged toward the middle of the room. It wasn’t a dancefloor, per se, but the couches had been cleared out of the way, and lots of people were dancing and grinding and making out under the blue lights Pidge had set up. Keith dragged them right into the middle of the crowd, wrapping his hands around Lance’s neck and drawing their bodies close.
“Let’s dance!” Keith insisted, moving his hips in a slow figure-8 to the song. The bass was so heavy that it was nearly impossible for Lance to figure out what was playing.
Well, that, and the extremely distracting, very intoxicating sway of Keith’s hips also made it impossible to think about anything else.
“Keith, maybe you should have some water,” Lance said, swallowing hard as his eyes looked anywhere but at Keith’s hips.
“You’re so cute, Lance, didja know that?” Keith told him, squishing Lance’s cheeks in his hand as he smiled softly up at the taller boy. “Especially when you’re angry. Or embarrassed. Or nervous. Why are you nervous?”
“I’m not nervous,” Lance said, trying to free his face from Keith’s grip with no avail. “But you are going to be embarrassed tomorrow morning if we don’t sober you up. C’mon, buddy.”
Lance tried to lead him away, but Keith stood still, his face suddenly serious as he moved his hands back behind Lance’s neck.
“Keith, let’s–”
“You’re beautiful.” The words came out as barely a whisper, the flush on his face spreading all the way down his neck, dipping beneath the collar of his shirt. Keith stared up at him, through those long, thick eyelashes, his eyes wide and a little cloudy from the shots, but he’d never looked more sure of himself.
Lance’s mouth felt dry as he whispered back, “You’re drunk.”
Keith pouted slightly, the seriousness gone from his expression. “So?” he asked. “Shiro told me that I needed to get over you and the best way to do that is to loosen up and have a drink. But y’know what I think? I don’t think I want to get over you.” His fingertips brushed gently against Lance’s skin, caressing his cheek as he smiled softly. “I don’t want to just get over you, Lance. I want you, and that’s not changing anytime soon, I think.”
Lance felt his eyes widened as he stared at Keith. The boy who’d barely given him a second thought before– or, at least, Lance had thought– apparently… had a crush on him? He…
He wanted him?
“I probably shouldn’t have said that,” Keith giggled slightly, biting his bottom lip. “Oops. Uh, just ignore me, I think I’ve had a little too much to drink.”
“A little?” Lance snorted, stepping back and grabbing Keith’s hands, moving them away from his skin and back to Keith’s sides. “Keith, let’s go find Shiro. You’re not gonna wanna be around me when you sober up, trust me.”
“Aw, I love Shiro!” Keith said as he let Lance maneuver them away from the dancing crowd and back toward where they’d last seen Shiro. “He’s like my brother. And he’s really nice and good about giving advice, y’know?”
“Pidge!” Lance said, grabbing his friend’s shoulder from the crowd and turning them to face him and Keith. “You seen Shiro?”
“Not recently,” Pidge said with a shrug, their eyes bouncing between Lance and Keith. They wrinkled their nose, then asked Keith, “Why do you look… expressive?”
Keith tilted his head to the side, looking like a confused little puppy. Cute. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Pidge looked at Lance, and he responded for Keith, saying, “He’s drunk.”
“A couple shots!” Keith protested, shaking his head. “It wasn’t that much, mom.” He giggled a little, then whispered (loudly) to Pidge, “It’s funny ‘cause I don’t have a mom.”
“Alright, I’m going to look for Shiro,” Pidge said loudly, putting their hands up in surrender. “Take him over to one of the couches or something. If I see Shiro I’ll send him your way.”
Lance nodded as Pidge wormed their way off into the crowd. Then, he grasped Keith’s elbow, gently leading him over to one of the couches against the back wall like Pidge suggested. He grabbed an unopened water from the nearest table, and shoved it into Keith’s hands, instructing him, “Drink.”
Keith did as he was told, popping the cap open and taking three large sips, his adam’s apple bobbing so much that Lance had to look away as he sat beside him. “I’m really fine, Lance,” he insisted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I promise, I’m, like, super not-drunk.”
“I’m sure you are,” Lance chuckled, shaking his head as he reached over and brushed some of Keith’s hair out of his face.
Keith was quiet for a second, like he was thinking, then he said, “Y’know what, Lance? I think a lotta things about you. Like it’s unfair how pretty your stupid face is. Y’know, like, you get all this attention from people because of how pretty your face and your eyes and your hair is and you don’t even understand.” He grasped Lance’ cheeks in his hands (for the second time that night) and said loudly, “Hey, are you listening to me? You’re PRETTY. Like, so beautiful. And you should know that.”
Lance felt his throat bob as his eyes flickered away, blush rising on his cheeks. God, Keith wasn’t making this easy on him, or his pathetic little heart.
Keith giggled. “See, you’re even cute when you’re embarrassed.”
It wasn’t fair. Lance had spent years wondering what Keith truly thought, and now? Now he was saying everything Lance had ever wished he would say. He’d begged and prayed and dreamed about Keith holding him close, calling him beautiful, kissing his face softly, and now those things were finally there, in reach, and Lance… Lance couldn’t take them. Because Keith was drunk. And the last thing Lance wanted was to take advantage of Keith when he was drunk.
No matter how badly it ached not to ask Keith what else he found beautiful about Lance.
“Y’know what else I think about you?” Keith continued on, completely oblivious to Lance’s internal conflict. “I think you have a nice laugh. I know I always make fun of you when you laugh and it’s really loud, but it’s only ‘cause when you laugh I can’t help but smile and so I make fun of you to cover up why I’m smiling.”
Lance felt his lips pull into a small smile. “You… really?” he asked softly.
Keith nodded. “Yeah, really. And I really like your smile and your eyes and your hair and how nice you are to me, even when I’m a bit of a jerk. Also? I wouldn’t really mind if you kissed me.” Keith glanced sideways at Lance, raising his eyebrows slightly. “That’s a hint, by the way.”
Lance was screaming internally. How could Keith sit there and look so cute when Lance knew he wouldn’t remember a single thing he’d said in the morning? It physically pained Lance to say, but he swallowed hard and spoke anyway. “I’m not going to kiss you right now, Keith.”
Keith’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Oh. Why not?”
Lance lowered his voice, his throat tight and raspy as he spoke. “Because if I’m going to kiss you, you’re going to remember it.”
Keith stared at him for a second, before giggling all over again and covering his face with his hands. “Stop that. Y’know, I’ll never tell you this, because you’ll get a big head over it, but you might actually be the sexiest person alive.”
Lance was dead. He was dead, and this was hell. Or maybe it was heaven. He couldn’t decide. All he knew was that Keith just called him sexy.
No, scratch that. The sexiest person alive.
Drunk Keith was right, that did give him quite the ego boost.
Keith leaned forward slightly, placing his hand on Lance’s upper thigh, his thumb rubbing in small circles. “Are you sure we can’t kiss right now? Because you look so beautiful right now. You always do.”
Lance’s face burned as he leaned away. “No, Keith. No doing anything you’ll regret when you’re sober.”
“I don’t think I’d regret it,” he said, sounding oddly clear for his inebriated state. “I mean, I might want to slam my head into a wall, but why would I regret taking a chance on the most beautiful man I know?”
LANCE.EXE had officially stopped working. He was about three seconds from passing out or kissing him or both, when finally, Shiro’s voice called out, “There you guys are!”
“Shiro!” Lance said, jumping up from the couch. “Fair warning, he’s really drunk right now.”
“I know that Lance,” Shiro said, rolling his eyes. “I’m the one who told you that.”
“No, I mean–” Lance paused, shaking his head as his face flushed. “He– he’s said some things and he’s either not going to remember them in the morning, or he’s going to hate himself in the morning, and I just… I need to get out of here. Sorry.”
“Wait, Lance,” Shiro said, grabbing Lance’s arm as he turned to leave. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”
Lance hesitated, glancing over at Keith. “I… I’m sorry, I need to leave. Happy birthday, Shiro.” He wrenched his arm from Shiro’s grip (it was practically like steel) and turned, hugging his shoulders as he weaved his way out of the overly crowded party.
“Bye-e-e-e-e-e-e, Lance!” he heard Keith call out. “I love you!”
Oh my God. Lance kept walking.
***
Lance counted a full 27 heartbeats before the door swung open, revealing Shiro, still in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes. When he noticed it was Lance, though, he stood up a little straighter, saying, “Lance! You left so suddenly last night– is everything alright?”
Lance sucked in a breath, saying, “Uh, yeah. Everything’s good. Is Keith home?”
“Home?” Shiro snorted. “He hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet. But c’mon in, you can just head into his room.”
Lance nodded curtly, stepping inside and giving a quick good-morning smile to Adam at the kitchen table before turning down the hall and heading toward Keith’s room, each footstep threatening to make Lance’s heart explode.
He knocked softly at the door, hearing a mumbling groan in response. “Keith, can I come in?” Lance asked, his shoulders tensing.
There was another groan in response, and Lance took that as a yeah, sure, come on in.
He gently opened the door and stepped inside him, closing it quietly. He didn’t even have to lay an eye on Keith to know he was hungover– though, he definitely did look hungover. His mullet was sticking out in a million directions, and he had on a huge sleep tee shirt that read I <3 Hot Dads on it.
“Hey, Keith,” Lance said, taking a seat at Keith’s desk and forcing a smile onto his face. “How’re you feeling?”
Keith sat up in his bed, blinking heavily. “Dead,” he decided. “What are you doing here?”
Lance held up a coffee cup and placed it on the desk where Keith could reach it. “I figured you might be a little hungover. Or just in need of coffee. It’s from the cafe Allura works at.”
Keith reached greedily for the cup, breathing in deeply. “I love that place. Thanks, Lance.”
Lance nodded, letting the silence settle over them as Keith gulped down the hot coffee, sitting on the edge of his bed, and wiggling his toes in his stupid lion socks that he’d gotten as a Christmas gift from Hunk a year prior.
After Keith was satisfied, he set the cup down, frowning slightly. “How’d you know I’d be hungover? Did I do something stupid yesterday?”
“Not… exactly stupid,” Lance said, shrugging as his face warmed. “Well, a little stupid, maybe, but I suppose it could’ve been worse.”
“Oh, God, what did I do?” Keith said, his face as plain and emotionless as ever.
Lance was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Look, I’ll tell you what you said, but I just… don’t run away from me, okay? It’s fine. It happened. We’re cool.”
Keith stared blankly, saying, “Uh… okay?”
“Do you remember the shot contest with Adam?”
Keith squinted, thinking. “I think so? I won.”
“No you didn’t.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “The point, Lance?”
“Oh. Yeah. The point. The point is…” Lance looked down at his hands, wringing them in his lap. “So, uh– you were drunk, and we were dancing, and you said… You said you were trying to get over me. Like– like you had a crush on me.”
Silence.
Lance glanced up, expecting the same, emotionless face Keith always gave, but his face was anything but. Keith’s violet eyes were practically bugging out of his head, his lips clamped shut and his ears red like strawberries. The rest of his face looked pale, though, as he swallowed hard, panic rising in his features. He cleared his throat once, twice, three times, then said, “I, uh… I said that?”
Lance nodded slowly. “Yeah. You said you liked me and you didn’t want to get over me and you called… You called me beautiful? And pretty. And cute a few times, too. And sexy–” His voice cracked, and he squeezed his eyes shut before continuing. “And you said you wouldn’t really mind if we kissed. Oh, and when I was leaving, you said you loved me.”
“Oh, God.”
Lance leaned forward, wanting to touch Keith’s shoulder, but he second guessed himself and kept his hands in his lap. “Look, Keith, it’s fine. You were drunk, and I get that, and drunk people say things, right? But, if…” His shoulders tensed as he braced himself. “If there’s any part of you that meant it, and it wasn't just the drinks, I need to know, and I need to know now. Because if there isn’t, I might be about to fuck everything up so I really need you to tell me if it’s true or not.”
Keith stared at Lance, his mouth working slowly, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. “I… I mean, I…”
“Look, hypothetically, if I said I love you right now, would that scare you away, or could we talk about it?”
Keith’s breath hitched. “If you… I mean, do you…?”
“Only if you weren’t just drunk. And saying things like drunk people do,” Lance breathed. His heart was hammering in his chest. He was certain Keith could hear it. The whole house could probably feel his heart slamming against his ribcage.
Keith faltered. “I– I didn’t want to tell you like this,” he said, his voice raspy, his eyes more fearful than Lance had ever seen him. “I didn’t want to tell you at all, honestly. But, um… yeah. I do. Love you. Maybe.”
Lance couldn’t help the chuckle in his throat. “Maybe?”
“Shut up, you sprung this up on me!” Keith shot back. “Yes, okay? I love you. I fucking love you, Lance McClain. I’ve loved you since the day we met, and you spilled Red Bull all over my tee shirt and you tried so hard to get it out, but it didn’t work and you bought me a new one even though I said it wasn’t a big deal. I– I love you so much it’s a little ridiculous, but I do.”
Lance’s jaw dropped as his heart stuttered. “For real? You– you remember that?”
“Of course I remember it; I love you.”
Lance chuckled again, leaning forward in his chair as he reached up, brushing Keith’s messy morning mullet out of his face tenderly. “Well, you sound a lot more sure now.”
He could feel Keith’s soft breath across his cheek as Keith whispered, “And… do you?”
“Of course I fucking love you, idiot,” Lance said softly, a grin breaking out across his face. “I love you, too.”
“Well, in that case… I really wouldn’t mind if we kissed,” Keith said, grinning right back.
“You’re a dork.”
“And you love me.”
Lance cupped his face, drawing him in as he pressed their lips together. He felt Keith hesitate for a split second, before melting right into him, reaching out and grabbing Lance’s waist, pulling the desk chair and Lance to him until their knees were bumping together, but neither of them cared. Keith’s lips were so soft and full that Lance felt dizzy as they drew closer, closer, but never close enough. It was a little awkward, but it was good.
“Did you brush your teeth yet today?”
“I literally just woke up, fuck off.”