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Summary
“You know, if you’re not drunk,” Lance turned his body towards him, letting his head drop onto Keith’s shoulder. Holy shit. “You should come dance with me,”
Now Keith really was going to die.
“Please?” Lance asked. He tilted his head so their faces were inches apart, and looked Keith directly in the eyes. “It’ll be fun,”
And. Well. Blame it on the alcohol, blame it on the late hour, blame it on the fact that Lance McClain just looked at him from under his gorgeous fucking eyelashes and said please.
There was no saying no.
Or, five times Keith and Lance hooked up, and one time it really meant something
