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Keith knew that Lance was a major flirt. A really bad one, but that was beside the point. God, those pick-up lines. Now, there was one tiny problem with Lance’s constant flirtations, and that was that he was attempting to woo the entire female population. Key word: Female.
And on that note, two things were accepted:
Thing one: Lance was totally, completely and undeniably… straight.
Thing two: Keith was totally, completely, and undeniably… fucked.
Out of all the people in the galaxy, both human, and not so human, Keith had developed… feelings… for the brown haired pain in the ass. And they could never be reciprocated. Because Lance liked girls. And only girls. The Red lion pilot buried his head in his hands, and waved the bartender over for another drink. Because somehow he and the other pilots had gotten dragged into some weird alien club thing on the outskirts of space that Lance had deemed ‘worthy of his presence.’ Ugh. He buried his face deeper into his palm.
The bartender brought over whatever the fuck he had ordered, and Keith swallowed it down, letting the burn race down his throat, hoping that somehow the pain in his heart would cease to exist.
Fuck. That only made it worse. He snarled in exasperation, looking up at the grimy ceiling of the bar. Then with a sigh, he turned to look out at his teammates. They were huddled together on the dance floor, dancing to whatever shit song was on. Some new age techno probably. Allura was nodding her head and shifting her hips to the beat. Hunk was doing some weird thing with his feet, and Shiro and Pidge were wedged together. Pidge was blushing, and, oh, Shiro was too. A little. They bumped against each other and Pidge squeaked as Shiro reached out to steady him. Keith smiled bitterly, scanning the group for Lance. And lo and behold, the Blue Lion Paladin wasn’t there.
He’s probably found someone to lock lips with already, Keith thought to himself, imagining Lance embracing a dark haired girl, kissing her with a fervor that Keith only saw when they were fighting, holding her close, whispering into her ear, laughing with he-
No. Keith shook himself out of that train of thought. He had to move on. Voltron depended on stability and cohesion between the team members. Whatever he was feeling, for the sake of the team, he had to let go of. He turned his head to the left, and blinked.
And blinked again.
And again.
Because that was definitely not Lance pressing another person up against the wall, his tongue down their throat, towering above them, slipping his hands into their shirt, roving…
No, it couldn’t be. Lance was making out, heavily making out, with someone of the male population of the galaxy. How had he been so wrong? Shock set in, and Keith’s mind went into overdrive, rethinking every encounter and conversation he had ever had with Lance. Sure, Lance had had many interactions with women, most, okay, more like all of them, failed, but that was beside the point. He should have noticed before. This was a revelation.
And then the rage and jealousy took over.
Something stirred low in his gut, and began to rise to the surface. A howl stirred low in his chest, and he just barely tamped it down. Because Lance was kissing someone who was definitely male. And that man wasn’t Keith.
He shot to his feet.
Storming out to the Red Lion, he got in and seethed. The others followed suit about an hour later, realizing that he wanted to leave. Shiro carried a giggling Pidge, and Hunk stumbled out a few minutes later, Allura clinging to his arm. Even Lance, who seemed more jittery than usual, knew to leave. That pissed Keith off and he didn’t know why. They headed back to the castle, and everyone but Keith and Lance chattered over the comm link. And that was supposed to be the end of it.
But lo and behold, it wasn’t.
Keith was more quiet than ever, and his comments more barbed. He snapped at Lance during their sparring, disassociated from the team, and went back to his room to eat the green goop that was somehow food. The team noticed, but whenever they called him on it, they got caught in the crossfire. He felt bad, but not enough to apologize. This went on for about a week, before things really hit rock bottom. Because obviously, when the team needed something dealt with, they never did things halfway.
And locking both Keith and Lance in a room together, and not letting them out until the whole mess was dealt with was obviously the answer. Stupid Pidge.
So now they were locked in Keith’s room, with limited nourishment, and no way out. And a bed. Oh, dear god, a bed that Keith was currently on, and was trying very, very hard not to think about. And with Lance lounging in the corner, and for once not running his stupid mouth. Finally, Keith resigned himself to his fate. As he looked up, Lance met his eyes.
“So, if we want to get out of here, you’ve got to figure out your problems. So spill. Daddy can help ya, if you want.”
Keith cringed, that line was so bad, but he didn’t mind the- oh shit- he did not want to go over kinks with Lance.
“Never say that again,” he mumbled, looking at his lap.
“Ha, no witty comeback?!”
“No, jerkface, that was just too awkward.”
“Whatever,” Lance’s face went serious. “Now seriously, I want to know what’s wrong. Spill.”
“No.”
Lance looked surprised, but the seriousness did not leave his face. He stared at Keith for a few beats. Keith had to look away. And Lance pounced.
“Tell me what’s going on, or I…”
“You what?”
“I, I,” he dug his hands into Keith’s sides, “Well, I’ll just have to tickle it out of you!”
How did this become so awkward? Keith didn’t know, but it felt really good to be laughing with Lance, squirming, chests close together, panting for breath-
And he decided to just roll with it.
“Fine. You want to know what’s wrong with me?” Keith shuddered, Lance’s breath ghosting across his face. “I thought you were straight, but you’re not, and you’re pretty, and I saw you at that club with that guy, and you had your tongue down his throat, and you liked it and he liked it and I hated it so much because you were with him and I didn’t even know that you liked guys and I wanted it to be me that you were kissing pressed up against the wall but it wasn’t and I just really like you,” He snarled out.
Lance froze, and Keith thought that it was over, that he and Lance were done. Done laughing together, sparring in practice, never again. And then Lance smiled. No, he smirked, the grin growing across his face.
“I win.”
Keith narrowed his eyes. “Win what?”
“You.”
And with that, Lance lowered his lips to Keith’s. There was no more talking for another good hour or so. Kissing Lance was nothing like he had expected. He had expected sloppy and eager, but Lance was definitely experienced. He took and took and gave and Keith couldn’t breathe. It was amazing. And he wanted more. But air. Air was important. And so was talking.
And so the two broke apart, gasping and giggling, curled sleepily in the others arms. “
“So what was that about, you winning me?”
“Well, I had a bet with that guy you saw the other night, and I may have lost it, but I won you instead. So it was worth it.”
“What was the bet?”
“He bet that we could make that ‘hot little firecracker at the bar’ jealous, and I didn’t think so, but anything to get my mind off of you. It was worth the shot.”
“Yes, I guess it was.”
“Aw man, I got you good.” Lance laughed, his eyes smoldering.
And then there was no more talking.
--
Pidge smiled and patted himself on the back. And then went to find Shiro. Major cuddles were in order.