Work Text:
If you asked what was one thing Lance McClain hated about working at Coran’s Crust Pizzas, he would say, without hesitation, his coworker Keith Kogane.
The guy was relentless. Somehow, Keith managed to one-up Lance in every single way possible. He’d stolen employee of the month from Lance one too many times, and had never delivered a pizza under thirty minutes. Never! Lance thought his own record was pretty clean--he had a 90% success rate. He drove the delivery bike like a maniac, but it worked. Most of the time. Alright, he totaled it once, but come on, have you seen the thing? It would have fallen apart on its own--Lance just hastened the process. Coran’s Crust’s manager, Allura, ordered a newer, improved motor car soon after and, really, Lance did the pizza place a favor.
Keith, though. Even thinking the guy’s name threw Lance into a frenzy, he couldn’t explain it. Keith did everything with such arrogant ease. He delivered every pizza unharmed, on time, and managed to get more than reasonable tips every single time. Who does that?
Speak of the devil, Lance thought, as Keith cruised into the parking lot, returning from yet another successful delivery. He swung his leg over the bike in a fashion which was totally not suave, turning it off and removing his helmet. Lance watched, chin in his hands, as Keith’s stupid hair settled on his neck, and as he ran his hands through it to avoid helmet hair, Lance grumbled to himself. Pidge side-eyed him.
“You know,” Pidge sidled up next to lance at the counter, “you could always just ask him out, instead of staring holes into him all the time.”
Lance sputtered, eyes wide. “I- what?! Why would I ask him out? He’s Keith! He’s the worst!”
Pidge shrugged, unconvinced. “You pay a lot of attention to him for him to really be ‘the worst.’”
Lance shook his head quickly. “You’ve got it all wrong, Pidge, no way. it’s not that kind of attention, it’s-”
Keith entered the restaurant, helmet on his hip, lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat of the summer sun off of his face, and Lance ground his teeth as Pidge eyed his flushing face. “It’s different.”
“Mmhmm” Pidge pushed away from the counter and sauntered into the back room as Keith rounded the counter. He noticed Lance’s staring and tilted his head, brows furrowing.
“What?”
Lance jerked, flushing brightly and sputtering, “Nothing! What yourself!”
Keith’s eyes searched his face for a moment before he shrugged and followed Pidge into the back room. Lance heaved a sigh. Pidge didnt know anything. Lance didn’t like Keith. Lance hated Keith! Keith was ruining his pizza delivering career. They were rivals.
Lance leaned his elbows on the counter, chin in his hands, frowning. He guessed Keith was attractive, between his gorgeous, soul-searching eyes and his hair which looked so soft, Lance bet it was soft, he-
No, inner monologue, shut up.
The door chimed, and Lance, too caught up in frustratedly contemplating the jerk that was his pizza delivering rival, didn’t register a new customer until they began calling his name, waving a hand in front of his face. Lance jerked up, registering Hunk across the counter, and grinned. “Hunk! My man! You won’t believe that guy Keith-”
“I don’t think I’ve ever visited you at work without you mentioning Keith,” said Hunk thoughtfully. Lance benevolently ignored the comment.
“He just made a delivery in twenty minutes. Twenty! Like, it’s not a race, buddy, cool your jets. Am I right?” Lance shook his head and straightened up. “Unbelievable.”
“You’re just salty because Keith is a pro on those garbage bikes you call delivery vehicles,” shrugged Hunk. He made a show of batting his eyes. “And ‘cause you think he’s pretty.”
“Why is everyone saying that?” Lance exclaimed, his face heating up. “I don’t think he’s pretty-” at Hunk’s disbelieving stare, he backtracked. “Okay, he’s pretty, but that’s a known fact, okay? That’s just his face. I’m peeved because he’s been employee of the month for, like, three months now! Like, save some frame for the rest of us!” He was, of course, referring to the picture frame which hung on the wall next to the cash register which currently displayed a photo of Keith, wide-eyed and unsuspecting, which Lance had taken--with flash and everything! (”I need a picture of Keith,” Allura had said. “It’s important,” Allura had said. If Lance had known it was going to go straight up on the Wall, he never would have agreed. Betrayal at it’s finest.)
“Alright, I don’t want to step on any toes, here,” Hunk treaded carefully, “but isn’t Keith a pizza delivering connoisseur? As in, a plaque would be more appropriate than a five dollar Ikea picture frame?”
"Hunk!” Lance cried indignantly. “Are we not friends? I deserve to be on that wall.”
Hunk grimaced. “Yeah, but didn’t you kind of wreck one of Coran’s Crust’s bikes not too long ago? Like, wreck beyond repair?”
“Once,” Lance grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at the offending frame on the wall. “You make one mistake around here, and nobody ever forgives you. Is that fair, Hunk? Is that what you call fairness?”
Hunk stared at him, considering, before clapping his hands together. “Okay, I have an idea.”
Lance quirked his eyebrow. “Go on.”
“We’re going to prove who’s really the best delivery boy.”
Lance lit up. “Delivery bike drag racing!”
“No,” Hunk rolled his eyes, “you’re both going to deliver a pizza to a set address. Whoever gets the pizza there quickest and in tact will reign supreme. Sound fair?”
Frowning, Lance glanced towards the back room. He could see Keith through the cracked door, polishing his stupid helmet with his stupid washcloth. “Keith’ll never go for it. I mean, I’m down, of course. Any challenge, I’ll take it. But Keith? Total stick in the mud. No way.”
A grin spread across Hunk’s face. “I’ll convince him. We’ll be out in a flash with pizzas and your pretty rival.”
Lance stuck out his tongue at him, pulling his helmet from beneath the counter. “I’m the pretty rival. Keith is the less pretty one.”
Hunk nudged him towards the door. “Yeah, yeah, go mount your steed, pretty boy.”
Lance leaned against his bike as he waited, breathing in the crisp evening air. It was five o’ clock, and the sun had begun to set over the city. It was perfect--he was going to crush Keith in style, cinematically illuminated by the glow of the setting sun. Lance wouldn’t have it any other way. At the end, he’d take Keith’s pizza as the prize, along with the title of employee of the month, of course. And you know what? He’d even eat it right in front of Keith. A bit of good, old fashioned, hard won gloating action. Lance could hardly wait.
Usually, these kinds of antics didn’t get this far. Shiro would either catch wind of what was stirring in Coran’s Crust, or Allura would catch them before any plans could be set in motion. Tonight, however, was date night for the couple, and they were away having dinner somewhere in town. Therefore, nothing and nobody could restrict the group acting on their impulsive teenage rampancy.
Hunk, Pidge, and Keith finally emerge from the building, Hunk holding a single pizza and Pidge entering the address into his and Keith’s GPS. Keith was eyeing Lance in a way which he couldn’t decipher. It made Lance nervous, not knowing what Keith was thinking. Normally, it wasn’t too difficult to figure out what was going through his head. Lance crossed his arms, sending a sharp grin Keith’s way. “Ready to get pulverized, Kogane?”
Keith broke eye contact a tick too quickly, and Lance wasn’t sure if the redness on his cheeks was due to the sunset or... nah, definitely the sunset.
Keith and Lance mounted their bikes, Lance revving his own and grinning as Hunk sighed exasperatedly and Pidge rolled their eyes. As Hunk counted down, Lance leaned forward, and as Hunk reached zero, they were off.
Thankfully, the route Hunk and Pidge had chosen weaved neatly through the neighborhoods surrounding the area, so Lance and Keith were able to race mostly unimpeded. As they flew through suburbia, Keith took the upper hand, if only by a few meters. Each time Lance nearly overtook him, Keith would skid skillfully around a sharp turn or fly fearlessly between parked and moving cars. At one point, he even drove straight over some poor kid’s toy ramp, and Lance would die before he admitted how fucking cool it had looked. Showoff.
They were approaching the address, and Lance had no clue where they were. The route steadily climbed up the side of a hill and seemed to come to a stop at the overlook, where you could watch the lights of the city twinkle against the sky at night. Lance poured all he had into the last few moments, lurching into a standing position and leaning forward over the handlebars, his eyes on the prize.
In the end, however, Keith prevailed, sliding to a stop at their goal and flashily kicking up a cloud of dust in the process. Lance curses as he pulls in next to Keith.
After a moment of heaved breaths and quiet appreciation of the scenery, Lance swung a leg over his bike and sat, leaning against it. “Alright, yeah, you got lucky, but you did win.” He paused before adding, “By like two inches. Reap the spoils, champ.” He leaned over and lifted the pizza box from the back of the bike, pushing it into Keith’s hands. Their fingers brushed as Keith took it, and Lance swallowed, noting the way the sun complimented Keith’s hair, and how it was just them out here. Lance got back on his bike, steeling himself for the ride of shame back to Coran’s Crust.
“Lance--wait.”
Keith’s expression puzzled Lance for the second time that night--his brows were furrowed and his mouth was screwed in a way that made it seem as if Keith was contemplating something very thoroughly.
“What?” Lance prodded, his tone without any real bite. “You wanna gloat? Bring it, Kogane.” He held out his hands, comically baring himself for a barrage of brags.
Instead, Keith rubbed the back of his neck, quiet for long enough that Lance wondered if he was going to say anything at all. Keith let out a frustrated noise and mumbled something.
“Uh, what?” Lance leaned forward.
“Are you leaving?” Keith questioned, looking anywhere but at Lance.
“Well, uh, yeah,” Lance blinked, “you beat me fair and square. I’ll pay for the pizza, and you can keep being the employee of the month, for now. I’ll take that title from you someday, though, Kogane.”
Keith frowned and Lance could have sworn that he was blushing. “I’m not going to eat an entire pizza alone.”
And now... Lance was just perplexed. “Do... you want me to take a few slices?” He was at a complete loss. Since when had Keith been so hard to read?
Visibly frustrated, Keith strode forward, apparently having had enough of talking, one hand outstretched. Was Keith gonna hit him? Oh, god, was this some sort of pizza-mafia situation? Had he tested Keith’s patience one time too many? Lance screwed his eyes shut, but rather than pain, warm lips pressed, moved against his own. After the initial shock, Lance found himself kissing back just as passionately. Their lips moved in a rhythm, and as Lance’s hands entangled in Keith’s hair, Keith slid his arms around Lance’s waist.
They pulled back with a gasp and a pop that had both boys reddening. Holy fuck. What had just happened. Lance and Keith had... kissed. They just made out. Lance struggled to wrap his head around the twist in the situation.
Uncharacteristically bashful, Keith searched Lance’s face from underneath dark eyelashes. “I meant,” his bravado would have been more convincing had he not been flushing and speaking through heavy breaths, “do you want to share the pizza with me?”
Tonight had certainly taken an extremely unexpected turn. But Lance’s hands were still settled in Keith’s hair and their foreheads close enough to touch. Keith’s features were even more striking up close, bathed in the warmth of the sunset. Since when was he into Keith fucking Kogane?
“Holy shit,” was all Lance could really manage, before sputtering, “you hate me! Don’t you hate me? We’re rivals.”
Now it was Keith’s turn to look utterly confused, and Lance shivered as Keith’s arms tightened ever so slightly around his waist. “Rivals? What are you talking about?”
It took only a beat for Lance’s brain to catch up with the situation, for the thoughts and connections to work themselves out, before embarrassment struck him. He dropped his hands from around Keith’s neck, pressing them against his own heated cheeks. “Oh, my god, you don’t even--the rivalry was nonexistent. I need a moment.”
“I... don’t understand,” Keith frowned, beginning to look hesitant. His hands left Lance’s sides to clench and unclench unsurely by his sides. “I thought... you liked me? Is that not what’s happening?”
Lance gaped, at a loss. Not only did Keith not know about their rivalry, but he liked Lance! And, apparently, lance reciprocated. Well, if the fact that Lance was having a hard time looking anywhere but Keith’s lips or into his eyes was anything to go by, Lance definitely did. Fuck.
Keith stepped back, an apology fresh on his lips, but Lance was having none of that, thank you very much. If this was happening, then god damn it, it was happening. He grabbed Keith’s hands, pulling him back towards him, Lance’s back bumping against the bike. He caught Keith’s face in his hands and tugged him into a kiss with the energy to rival the one Keith had given him. Lance might not have been as good a pizza deliverer, but he’d be damned if he lost to Keith at kissing. Lance wasn’t the best driver, but kissing was an entirely different story.
Keith responded with just as much enthusiasm, making a surprised noise in the back of his throat, and when they finally pulled apart, short of breath and starstruck, Lance blurted, “I’ll stay, but on one condition.” Keith waited patiently, swallowing, and, boy, was this getting dangerous for Lance’s heart, or what? “I get the crust. All of it.”
Keith stared in surprised silence for a moment, surely having expected something of a far greater magnitude, before snickering. “I don’t like the crust, anyway.”
“Huh,” Lance made a thoughtful noise. “This keeps getting better and better, Kogane.” Before Keith could retort, Lance pushed forward and kissed him again, both smiling against each other’s lips, the pizza entirely forgotten.