Chapter Text
There were some things in this world that you couldn't unhear, no matter how much you wanted to.
For Hunk, it's the words, "Baby you're lucky I've got a figure to maintain or I'd eat you up: Your lips for the appetizer, and your ass for dessert." Uttered from his best bro Lance in heavily accented Spanish, to Lance's thought-to-be-hated rival, Keith Kogane.
No, he did not hear that incorrectly (but god he wished he had), because Lance immediately followed it up with, "Yes, waiter?" Lance held a finger up, doing a once over across the cafeteria for said nonexistent waiter, "I think I'll have the, Keith Du Jour please. On the house? More like "at my house", ooh baby!" All flourishing hand gestures, cocked hips and cockier smirks.
He was leaned against the wall, one palm placed against it just a little too close to Keith's head. And Keith, as always, leveled an annoyed glare at him and tried to ignore the obvious baiting (as he understood it to be) as best he could. Resigned to keep his eyes ahead of him in the lunch line. Trying his best not to let Lance ruffle his feathers- Or at least trying not to let it show.
Apparently it did, because Lance seemed to glow ever more at Keith's increasingly effort-exerting attempts at ignoring him. Lance was about to launch into his next line, but was stopped short by his best friend Hunk, having a fucking heart attack a table or two over-- The distinct sound of Hunk flipping his shit drawing his attention over to where he sat.
Judging from the look on Lances face when Hunk sprays Mountain Dew all over his classmates like a beautiful misty waterfall and chokes in the middle of the cafeteria, Lance wasn't counting on Hunk knowing enough Spanish to understand it. His dark cheeks were tinted ever darker at the overheard innuendo, and even among the complaints and protests of his soda-bathed classmates, all Hunk could mange to do was stare at Lance mouth agape in disbelief and undeniable recognition.
Lance stared back, utterly caught in his sins before his friend. Keith had curiously over looked the scene before him with a raised brow and a half-turned shoulder- Knowing he had a better chance of understanding Spanish than whatever silent communication was going on between the two friends.
They were still back at the Garrison when it had happened. Lance, after going red and sacrificing his place in the lunch line to tend to his buddy (and swear him to secrecy for the rest of his life), was forced to explain that he'd developed a sort of maybe ginormous gradeschool-level crush on Keith, and that he'd been flirting with him in Spanish for shiggles. And it had many, many benefits.
For one, not being able to understand him was annoying at it was, but because it was Lance talking to him, Keith assumed that most if not all of the things Lance was saying to him were Insults. Or at the very least, derogatory. (And if Lance was honest with himself, he couldn't blame him. He'd insulted him PLENTY of times in Spanish before advancing to flirting.) This meant getting to annoy Keith and get him all worked up over what were actually some pretty smooth moves, if Lance did say so himself. (And he did. And Hunk Had to hear that too. And it was the second thing in this world Hunk desperately wished to unhear.)
For two, it gave Lance the chance to gain just the slightest bit more confidence, practice his flirting, AND it gave him a way to express all his pent up and often conflicted feelings towards Keith- Even if it was at Keiths expense.
"Uh, don't you think that's a little bit. Uh. I dunno- Dangerous?" Hunk had asked, once they were back in the privacy of their own dorm. Dead of night, past curfew, Illuminated by dim lamps over clean oak desks and filling the silence with secrets.
Hunk fidgeted, looking about as if someone could be listening to them right here, right now. "I mean, what if someone understands you Lance? Someone else besides me?" Hunk bent his head towards him, hands dipped inwards towards his clavicle, fingers splayed to his chest. "What if they tell Keith? What if Keith finds out and he gets angry or he goes after you or--"
"Hunk, relax. He's not gonna find out about it." Lance interrupted, tone cool and over confident, before it slipped away into something far off, his gaze drifting to a corner of the room. "And even if he did, there's no way he'd believe it."
Hunk blinked, face dropping into sudden openness and understanding.
It was the way his expression feigned disinterest and nonchalance to hide something else, which escaped through his voice. Something about Lances tone reeked of sadness-- Like he WISHED Keith would believe it, if someone did tell him. But what saddened Hunk more than anything, was the silent understanding that Lance liked it this way. That Lance wanted it this way. That Lance would rather have it like this for the rest of his life because it was the closest thing he was ever going to get to a real relationship with Keith. Wasn't it?
And if Keith heard half the shit Hunk had overheard him saying to him today, Lance would be doomed to a horrible, cold, and possibly violent rejection.
Because there just no way Keith would ever return Lances feelings.
"Bro.." Hunk lingers on the word, voice laced with sympathy. Lance glances over at him once, and turns his gaze away again.
"It's fine, Hunk." Lance sighs, leaning down over his desk and crossing his arms to rest his head on them. "The only way he's gonna find out is if I say it directly to his face, in a language he can understand."
A lot can happen in a year. The discovery of the Blue Lion, the sudden and unprepared journey into space. Getting launched face first into the heart of an intergalactic war that had been going on for decades and adapting and learning every single day- Not one day the same as another.
There are just more important things to do. People to save. Planets to protect. Galaxies to defend.
Teamwork is imperative. Relationships are forged anew. Quarrels are forgotten, and the old habit that had been Lances crutch to communication with Keith is forgotten, in favor of friendship.
It is at once better and worse than anything Lance could have imagined. He never thought he'd get this close to Keith- And he's happy. But at the same time, he never thought he'd get this close to Keith, and now he has to make a conscious effort not to seriously fuck it up. Unlike before, now he actually HAS something with Keith, and that's a hell of a lot better than nothing. A hell of a lot farther than he thought he'd ever get with him. A hell of a lot better than pining after his attention with shitty remarks and snide button pushing only to have Keith seemingly forget about him the second he left the room.
And it's for that reason that it's precious, and needs to be protected. Or, as protected as a relationship can be when it's sits on a foundation of misunderstandings and rejuvenates itself through regular intervals of fighting and bickering.
And as much as Lance loves being friends with Keith (getting his smiles, his laughter, his smirks, and his trust) he still can't help but love being his enemy. Getting his glares, his reactions, his anger and, of course, his attention. There's an addiction to it, Lance is convinced. If he can't have his love, then he can settle for hate. As long as those eyes are on him. As long as he can always redirect them his way. As long as Keith will rise from the dead just to punch him in the face-- it's enough for Lance.
So one day, when the ship is tranquil and comfortably quiet-- When the crew has been blessed with time and rest and boredom and decide to spend it together in the lounge; soaking in sun rays from the nearest star, inhaling in a much missed breathable atmosphere and enjoying each others presence-- Lance remembers his old crutch. His old, dilapidated excuse for conversation and one-up-manship, and grins fondly.
He remembers the way he could escalate it. Remembers the way he could sail insults and humor Keiths way in the presence of other speakers to humiliate him, irritate him, and then flirt his way to Kingdom come whenever they were out of sight, and ruffle each and every single one of Keith's feathers. Count them as they floofed and try to learn the tells of when each one was up and when each one was down. What each one meant when it was smoothed or fluffed. What he had to do to get Keith red-- to get his backhanded glares and his 'You're cruisin' for a bruisin' silent threatening looks, until he could almost swear the long hair at the nape of his neck puffed out on it's own and curled higher than it already was.
Now he knows how to do all of that, and knows dozens better ways to execute it- The crutch long ago becoming as nuanced as it was stupid. As he remembers it and watches Keith's relaxed and perfectly at home demeanor from his seat next to him on the couch-- Slightly parted lips and long lowered lashes. Sleepy and half awake. Arms layed in his lap and head tilted back over the edge of the lounge pit. Neck exposed. Eyes closed, silent. Comfortable and still waking up-- He can't resist using it again. Just for old time's sake.
"God you're gorgeous." Lance starts, letting the Spanish slip off of his tongue like they'd been wanting to since he'd first entered the room. Keith seems only marginally roused by this- Taking his time tilting his head up and blinking confusedly at Lance-- Not irritation or annoyance, just a silent questioning on his face. Either he didn't know what to make of the return of Lance's old taunting, or he was wondering if he'd heard that right.
Lance smiles at that, grin stretching. Cute, he thinks, and decides to verbalize that too. "And cute too, y'know that?" He's hunched over cross legged on the couch, an elbow on his knee and his face resting against his hand. It is the very intentional way Lance is turned towards him on the couch, the way his eyes rake over him, blinking slowly and taking him in like he's the most beautiful sight he's ever laid eye's on that has Keith sitting up straighter, eyes opening wider, and giving Lance 100% of his attention.
Because even though Lance had spoken in Spanish, to Keith, it sounded like English-- Heavily-accented-in-Spanish English, but coherent English none the less.
The ships built in translation technology was working as flawlessly as it always was, and Keith could now hear every word of Spanish Lance was saying. In a language he could understand. Right to his face.
Lance continued, heedless of it all.
"Of course you don't. But you are. Wish I could just take you in my arms and lay you on my shoulder and tell you all the time, but you'd probably kill me if you knew what I was saying, wouldn't you?" Lance ignored the urge to reach out his hand and run it through Keith's soft-looking hair, head cocking slightly and only enhancing the far-away look on Lance's face.
Keith, meanwhile, was struggling to process the situation. Why Lance was saying what he was, what he was doing, his intentions behind it-- Made ever harder by shock, confusion, and a haze of sleep left over from just waking that everyone in the room was still working through. It's around this time that they all perk heir heads up and finally take notice of the slow and impending train wreck taking place. Pidge and Hunk, who had been nodding off together. Allura and Coran, who had been having sparse conversation over breakfast. Shiro, who cannot keep reading his cyber article if he wanted to from across the seats. All of them open their eyes and turn their heads to stare.
"Might be worth it though. Get you all worked up and red and angry. It used to make me so hot. It still does." Keith's eyes widen imperceptibly at that, stilling like he's under interrogation-- cheeks pinkening despite himself.
Lance, of course, mistakes it for the beginnings of anger. Much like how Keith mistook Lances old lovestruck looks as Shit Eating Cockiness Level Eleven- out of a possible Five.
Suffice to say, Keith is starting to realize his err in perception if the way his face heats is anything to go by.
Finally, Keith responds. "Lance." He says around something dry and not-supposed-to-be-there. Stops. Pauses. Blinks five times fast. "What?"
"You heard me," Lance says, at least ten percent more cocky than before. "You make me so hot I just wanna take you back to my room and get you all warmed up, if you know what I mean." Lance punctuates it with a wink, and Keith feels his blood rush so heavily he can hear it thrum in his ears.
It appears that, no, Keith does not know what he means, because the only thing he seems to be capable of doing is more useless goddamn staring at Lance. Stunned into inaction by Lances words alone, and getting redder and redder by the second.
It makes Lance chuckle.
Okay, it's a bit unusual-- Usually by this point Keith would glare, walk away, try and make some kind of hopeless come backs, or all three. But it's been a while, hasn't it? It's probably just the shock of hearing Spanish again after so long. He's probably just having Earth-culture related flashbacks being able to hear it again, or something- Lance thinks.
At this point, no one else in the room is sure what's going on or what to do. Coran and Allura look like they're trying to decipher whether this is an Earthling thing or whether something is seriously up. Shiro has dropped his article on the floor, Pidge has fallen off the couch, and Hunk has only now figured out that he isn't reliving some terrible dream-iteration of experiences past, and thus, starts to panic.
"BRO!"
"Shh Hunk, calm down. I'm just havin' a little fun! Besides, it's not like he can hear me anyways." Lance says, and suddenly the accent over his English is gone- His dialect normal to Keith's ears again.
And that's all it takes for things to click instantaneously for Keith, the reality of what is happening snapping into place all at once. Lance is speaking Spanish at me. But the ship is translating it.
Keith takes a deep breath in, but his lungs feel shallow.
How long-
Has he always been-?
Keith glances over at the others reactions. Hunk to Lance, Lance to Hunk, more pieces falling into place before his eyes by reading their body language alone.
No.
No fucking way.
Hunk is looking at Lance like he's trying to talk down a fire into not burning the house down, and Lance is sitting in that house and casually offering it polite cups of gasoline. Like it's some nice domestic thing to do and he's being hospitable.
Hunk knows. Keith's eyes drift over to the others- Who else knows? - Allura and Coran are confused. They don't hear the Spanish accent in their own mental translations. Atleans don't have Spanish, of course they don't- His eyes drift again. Pidge. Pidge looks like she doesn't know whether to laugh or yell. Keiths brows furrow a little. Probably. Hunk has spilled secrets before. He's just as liable to do it again. Shiro? Keith looks over-- His mouth is agape, but not horribly so. It's not a fight, so he's watching for what it actually is instead- And is that- Fondness? Happy surprise? A tint of proudness?
Shit. Shiro almost looks like a proud father witnessing the beginnings of his sons long and overdue Coming Out, and that alone is enough to send Keith's already red face into hyper blush. The color spreads over from his cheeks to his ears, pink tips contrasting against his dark hair.
He can feel everyone leveling their glances against him now too, and Keith is suddenly very aware of just how red he is. Doesn't remember- doesn't know if he's actually been this flustered before. Can't recall. Everything is moving too fast, his head a rush with blood trying to understand everything at once. Thoughts start and stop before they can be finished, eyes darting about the room like he's woken up in some kind of conspiracy novel. One thought repeats throughout his head.
All this time? Keith thinks, somewhere between mortification and suspended disbelief, mind struggling to remember all those times Lance had taunted him childishly with Spanish at the Garrison. Was this what he was doing-Saying- all this time?
Hunk looks over to Keith and jolts a little, and Keith wonders what his face must look like right now. By now having made his way over to the center of the room, half way to Lance with his arms outstretched to pacify.
"No, Lance, buddy, you don't understand-"
"No Hunk, I got it, okay? Watch. Hey, Keith!" Lance says, turning his attention back to Keith-- hesitating only a moment--before switching back into Spanish again.
Hunk frowns, thinks "oh no", and covers his eyes with his hands. "I can't watch this," and then splits his fingers to peek through them anyway. Everyone else in the room has stilled and stopped breathing. Pidge looks like she wasn't expecting to need popcorn right now. Coran and Allura are exchanging concerned looks and looking to Shiro for help, the three of them wondering if they need to step in or not.
Keith eyes Lance's smolder and smirk as he makes his way closer over to him, getting up in his face, leaning in (and Keith hates the way he automatically leans back to avoid him)-- Thinks he hears Hunk mumble whisper a panicked, "No, no!", behind Lance, who's know taken up most of Keith's vision.
He's stuck. Glued to his seat, heartbeat in his ears. Eyes wide and breathless- and of all times to be. Keith tries to remember, for his own dignity if not for everyone's sake, that he shouldn't be acting like this. He doesn't do, panic. He doesn't get like this. He's fast, agile, instinct driven and tactile. Good in emergencies, best on the field. He should be taking decisive action and committing to it. He should be pressing back against Lance and shoving him off. Getting in his face and standing up. Not shying away like a frightened schoolgirl. But for some reason, he can't. He's stuck.
Or maybe..
maybe he just doesn't want to move.
Lance is barreling forward in Spanish before Keith can find or deny the answer.
"I think it's time I tell you what people are saying behind your back... "Nice ass"! And by people, I mean me. And by "Nice ass", I mean like, really, really, really nice ass, oh my god."
"Lance!" Hunk yells. Lance leans in closer, and Keith leans back more automatically.
"And that's not the only thing either, oh no. I've been talking about you behind your back, ABOUT your back, since before you left the Garrison. And how could I not? You're frustratingly pretty Keith. Pretty boy asshole piece of shit. While you were beating me in the simulator, I was beating it to you in the dormitory." Lance says, leaning closer on 'you' so abruptly that Keith falls onto his back in his haste to lean away. It, along with the explicitness of that confession, knocks the wind from his lungs.
Lance seizes the opportunity to lean over him and peer down smugly, nearly straddling him- Both hands supporting himself at the side of Keith's ribs.
"Lance!!!"
"Could you blame me? I mean, look at you! You've got this jawline that just- And your lips and- And those eyes that look so cool and smug and dangerous but they turn up so cutely at the slightest smile. Fair skin that that colors so easily, makes you look so soft even though you're anything but. Would be so fun to rake my teeth over, get you all bruised up and bitten from head to toe. And speaking of toes-" Lance drags his eyes up and down Keith's body, and Keith bristles like someone just dumped ice water over his back, "God, can you even SEE the end of your legs Keith? They're so long even though you're shorter-- I swear if you had just a little more hip and just a little less shoulder I would've actually thought you were a girl."
Lance is smirking like no tomorrow over him, and the odd combination of teasing and complimenting is a mixture Keith doesn't know how to take. Isn't sure if he should be offended or flattered-- Lance flattering him. Imagine that-- Isn't sure whether he should say thank you or shove him off and clock his lights out. It's humiliating and condescending in a way that's stupidly hard to articulate, but playful and sort of... funny? At the same time?
If he were more prepared, he might've returned some of it. Flipped on his silly switch and went to town. Pushing, shoving, laughing, teasing, the works. But he wasn't. He hadn't anticipated the sudden change in behavior at all, and the freeze over his actions it had given way to was starting to melt under instinctive irritation. The kind that brewed up not under logic, but under body language, nature, attitude, and feeling alone. Lance's cocky shitstain demeanor over him would always be enough to spark that, despite the situation at hand.
Keith's just a second from getting up in his face and doing-- something. He doesn't know what, but something. Probably something impulsive, half baked and entirely thoughtless that would hurt Lance way more than intended.
Thank god he doesn't get the chance.
"LANCE!!!"
"What?!" Lance says, switching back to English and finally, finally turning his head around towards Hunk- Irritation at being interrupted replacing all of the cockiness that was there seconds ago.
Hunk is now standing less than a foot away from them both, and looks ready to bodily haul Lance off of Keith by the scruff if he has to. "He can hear you!" He says with a voice that sounds like it should've been said with his hands cupped around his mouth. Half rasped into a weird, not-quiet-at-all whisper. Thick with desperation and concern for everything his words are about to change.
Lance see's the desperation, the concern, the worry and the anxiety in every feature of Hunk's body and ignores all of it. Blows air from his lips in a flippant, "pbbt, what?", and rolls his eyes.
"Don't be stupid Hunk. If Keith could hear me he'd be breaking bones in places I don't even know I have," Lance slowly returned his gaze to Keith, "Not laying down and taking it and looking up at me all irritated and surprised, and... blushing?" Lance blinks down at Keith to reconfirm that, yes. He was. In fact, he looked more flushed than Lance could ever remember seeing him before-- All breathless and mortified and stunned beyond comprehension and utterly fucking frozen in place. Red all over.
It was adorable, really, and the only reason Lance didn't hone in on it and try to commit it to memory for the rest of his life was because it didn't make any sense.
Because Lance knew what he looked like when Keith couldn't understand his Spanish. He looked angry, irritated. His eyes would narrow into an annoyed glare and his bottom lip would stiff upwards into his top. His arms would be crossed. His posture would be terrible, and slightly comical in it's disposition.
Keith, right now, looked nothing like that.
Keith was blushing. Just sitting there, wide eyed. Deer in adorable red headlights like he'd never experienced anything like this in his entire life.
And if he'd heard everything then.. maybe he hadn't.
Lance's own eyes widened, breath shallowing as he was forced to acknowledge the possibility before him.
"No," Lance cracked a nervous smile and backed up to his own seat, "Noooo, pfft. No," Lance looked back down at Keith, who's expression and position hadn't changed in the least, and gulped.
"Keith!" Lance started, smile nervous yet hopeful. "You uh, didn't actually understand that. Did you?"
Keith, still stunned and unsure of how to react, blinked once and went, "Uhh.." Which, in most normal situations would've been the most obvious social cue for 'no, not really', if this situation were anything like normal.
A jolt of panic struck through Lance, visible on his expression.
"I... uh,"
Lance's eyes widened fearfully more, and Keith sat up on his elbows, still staring.
One quick glance around the room was enough to confirm Lances nightmare situation come to life, as he saw just about everyone in the room staring at him. Like they'd heard it too-
!
Because they had.
And so had Keith.
There was a long silence in the room then, stares meeting other stares wordlessly. Facial expressions the only communication between anyone for a moment. If Lance was still breathing, and if time was still flowing, he didn't know.
Hunk is the only one who's expression doesn't make Lance feel like he just got caught in the middle of murdering someone. When the big man places a hand on his back, Lance jolts.
Jolts again when Keith's voice cuts through the silence, head turning so fast the tendons in his neck hurt from it.
"Is that.. really what you were doing? That whole time?" It is at once the most threatening and innocent thing Lance has ever experienced. Keith's just sitting there, blinking innocently, and it's the most terrifying thing Lance has experienced in a long, long time.
Lance doesn't know he's rearing up and off the couch until he trips and falls backwards, Hunk catching him by the arm before his back can hit the ground.
"I," Lance starts and stops.
"Lance, buddy," Hunk. "Are you gonna be o-"
"Gottago!" Lance stands up immediately. "I gotta go, cya!" Turns around and just bolts up the stairs and right out of the room, it's occupants too stunned themselves to stop him. The door closes smoothly behind him.
It's another long pause before anyone speaks. Shiro breaks the silence with a small but audible, "What, was that?" The way he looks around the room suggests he's trying to figure out whether it's just him that's out of the loop or not. He looks to Pidge, who's processing everything internally while staring off at the closed door Lance exited through.
He turns his gaze to Hunk, who's looking in the same direction. "Hunk?"
"He's uh.. " Hunk looks back at Shiro, unsure of what to say. "He forgot about the ships translation tech."
"Oh, is that what happened?" Coran pipes up from the back, "I thought he was havin' a go at the old fidbar intimidation technique, developed by the great and fearsome Exomohuxla of the planet Yag. Why they'd take one look at you and you'd be quakin' in your form fitting gravity repulsing space trousers! I'm sure humans had an Earth-equivalent or other, although thought to be less of a tradition and more of a prurient activity among comrades- I believe it was called the, 'Friendly Bird?'" The red haired Altean looked up to survey the Paladins for any sign of recognition, and was met with confusion and only slightly less awkward silence than the one that had been previously engulfing the room. It may not have been an intimidation technique, but it certainly looked like one.
Keith hadn't moved from his spot, Allura noted. "Keith," She asked, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Keith replied, unmoving. His response automated like a voicemail message. 'Fine' as in breathing, moving, alive and unharmed, and altogether not the answer to the question Allura had asked.
The robotic response was an immediate signifier of Keiths current mental state, and no one knew whether to be more concerned for the red paladin, or the blue.
Pidge's attention turned to Keith, impending bullshit senses tingling and attuned to Keith's impulsive nature. Keith met her gaze.
"Did you know?"
Pidge shrugged, crossed her arms. "I didn't need Hunk to tell me, if that's what you're asking. Why? Are you-"
"I'm not mad," Keith stood, wiping a hand down over his face. It lingered over his mouth for a moment, everyone in the room watching Keith carefully.
Pidge had known, but she hadn't known him until after they left the Garrison. Which meant Lances crush for him must have been obvious on some level.
All this time.
Keith turned towards the door, brows suddenly furrowing. A decision in mind, commitment setting into it. "I'm going after him," He announced, and began walking towards the door only for Hunk to immediately skid into his path, blocking it.
"Oh no no no no wait wait wait a second Keith. I think it would be better if I went after him first. Two rejections in a day probably isn't gonna help him any right now, you feel? Maybe we should give him some time first, before-"
"Rejection?" Keith asked. The concern and confusion on his features coming together into something that almost looked like a pout, "When did I do that?"
Hunk stopped for a beat, "Well when you, uh. Laid down and. Looked. Surprised?" Hunk paused for a minute, before his eyes boggled. "What, are you seriously saying that you-" Hunk pointed, eyes getting wider and wider by a second. "You don't really-" Blink blink, "Do you???"
Keith's brows set in more, determination sharpening. "I'm going."
Hunk was left gaping after him for a moment, as Keith very calmly walked around him and up the stairs to the door.
"Wait!" Hunk called after him, and Keith stopped to look back, finding Hunk's hand on his shoulder. "Be careful with him, okay?"
Keith smiled back towards him, giving him a reassuring, "I will," before walking through the doors.