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Keith breathed through the whiskey in his throat and rested his elbows on the countertop in front of him. Kosmo was sitting at the base of the barstool, smacking his mouth around the spoonful of peanut butter he'd been offered by the bartender.
Keith lowered a hand to carefully pet the dog's head. The bar he usually frequented on Saturday nights after the rougher weeks was closed for maintenance - someone made a stink about mold in the corner of the bathroom, he'd been told - so he'd gone out on a limb and tried the place a few blocks down that was pet friendly.
They served whiskey in a chilled glass. It burned less than he was used to, so he guessed it was supposed to be a good thing. The music playing was some hip-hop song that must've been popular, if the three tables with someone singing along were a hint.
Oh well, at least Kosmo was liking his peanut butter.
Someone moved in his periphery with a careful lean and a calm, "I knew I recognized that dog." He turned his head to see who was talking and found a familiar blonde.
Matt, bright-eyed and charismatic as always, smiled and leaned against the bar, scratching Kosmo between the ears and getting a peanutty lick in return.
Matt lived in the same mobile home park as Keith, almost literally a stone's throw away. There'd been a few months where they tended to get their mail at the same time, and Matt had eventually asked Keith for some help scaring off a bad ex of his.
Keith wouldn't call them friends, but they'd both house-sat for each other in the year or so since, and Matt had even taken care of Kosmo for the week Keith had to leave town for his brother's wedding.
"I didn't know you drank here," Matt teased.
"I haven't before. My usual spot's closed for a mold issue."
"Well, then," Matt leaned closer on the bar, one hand steadying himself on Keith's barstool, "it must be fate that I went out with my sister and her friends tonight. They were giving me a little shit for having a big mouth while we walked past, and I may be here to try and get your number for a bet." Matt raised a brow in clear amusement when Keith's jaw dropped. "What do you say we pretend, and I split the winnings with you?"
Keith turned his body to face Matt with a grin, "and they have no clue we know each other?"
"None at all. They bet that I couldn't pick up the emo guy at the bar with the scary looking dog."
"Scary? Kos, are you scary?" Keith looked down and pouted at his dog, whose one response was to tilt his head back and keep smacking around his peanut butter. "Oh, they're right. Look at this monster. He's the scariest little guy."
Matt laughed and moved his hand up to straighten Keith's collar, leaving it resting against his shoulder while he spoke. "You know, I think they were setting me up. I'm pretty sure they know you."
"Well, tell me who they are. I can't turn around and look, Matt, that would give away the game."
"Pidge, my sister, I don't think knows you, but the others all work at a certain auto shop that I just know you've mentioned."
Keith struggled to hold in a laugh, "there is no way in hell you went out with my coworkers."
"Lance, Hunk, and Shiro? Sure did."
This time, Keith did laugh. He pitched forward with the force of it, shoulders shaking where he had to brace against Matt, eventually settling to catch his breath against Matt's shoulder.
"Is it that crazy that I went drinking with the guys from your work?"
"No, no- Shi-" He paused to laugh another moment, "Shiro's my- my brother."
"Oh shit. That explains why Hunk and Lance are holding him back."
Keith broke and let out a loud guffaw, one hand darting up to cover his mouth and the other clutching Matt's shirt- was that a polo? - for dear life.
"Oh boy," Matt muttered in Keith's ear, clearly playing into the idea that they were flirting, "Pidge is telling me to check my phone. I've been feeling it buzz, I was starting to wonder."
By the time Keith was able to pull himself together, Matt must've already checked it and put it back away. "Well, what did they say? That this is more than enough and you win the bet?"
"Even better." Matt leaned in close enough that Keith could smell whatever fruity thing he'd been drinking. "They're willing to triple the pot if I manage to take you home tonight."
"Holy shit, how much is on the line?"
Matt's only response was to grab the hand still clutching his collar, kiss Keith's knuckles, and gesture toward the door. "May I?"
Clearly, the whiskey had already gone to his head, because Keith let Matt lead him out the door with an arm around Keith's waist. Kosmo pranced alongside them, still tethered by the leash looped onto Keith's belt for legal reasons only, and smacking on his peanut butter the whole way.
Outside, Keith caught the briefest glimpse of some very familiar, very shocked faces before being turned away and toward home.