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Summary
At this point, Lance could've been the one to answer Allura, and she would've blinked together an explanation for the hand he had on Keith's dick. The team was painfully oblivious, and at first, it had been hot. Sneaking around was part of the appeal.
The buzz kind of faded when the war got serious. Lance wanted to tell the team, and Keith's stupid, beautiful self had said, "Why would they want to know we're fucking?"
It should feel like rejection. They weren't just fucking to Lance. There was no way Keith didn't feel it, that he didn't love Lance back. But over heartbreak and distance, Keith sought Lance out constantly, asking his opinion when it wasn't needed, following him to share their free-time, fucking him soft and slow, making him coffee, asking to stay the night...
And the argument began. Keith and Lance, the fateful rivals, attached at the hip, were not just fucking. They were full-blown in love, like the deep end-it-all kind. It wasn't one sided.
or, Keith thought this was a safe space to avoid emotional attachments. Lance has a ring already. They fuck about it.