Archive of Our Own ^beta

Standing in the middle of the Christmas aisle at Walmart, Keith feels a little lost. He’s swimming in a sea of tangled lights and fake trees and what seems like an endless forest of aisles containing brightly colored baubles and kitschy house decorations practically spilling from the shelves.

He doesn’t dislike it, necessarily. He’s just never really understood the fascination with the holiday. As a foster kid who ended up aging out of the system before getting into college on a scholarship, Keith usually spends the winter holiday season holed up in his room, working on homework in between going to the gym and watching documentaries on Netflix. Other people might find it lonely, but for the most part, he appreciates the solitude.

So when he’s placed in a triple suite in the upperclassman dorm with two strangers his junior year, he’s put off at first. It’s not that he has a problem with Hunk or Lance; both of them seem nice enough, and he soon learns that Hunk is a great cook, an extremely kind person, and that he tends to keep things tidy in the common spaces.

Lance, on the other hand, is dramatic, loud, extremely messy, and constantly bragging about the girls he flirts with, and he has an extremely annoying habit of engaging Keith in dares and bets out of some imagined rivalry that Keith doesn’t even remember starting. Still, his energy brightens up the suite, and Keith starts getting used to him after a while.

Keith is used to spending most of his time alone, and at the beginning of the year, having two such effusive and enthusiastic suitemates starts to fray on his nerves — especially Lance, who comes from a huge family and absolutely hates being alone. But there comes a time about two months in where their constant presence somehow turns from being annoying to comforting, and though it’s a new and strange feeling to Keith, something tells him he doesn’t need to overthink it. Things just are the way they are.  

Lately, Lance has taken to dragging Keith along with him places when Hunk is too busy working on engineering homework. Keith hasn’t figured out how to make him stop, so he’s been spending more time with him than he ever would have thought possible when they first met at the beginning of the year and Lance immediately challenged him to a battle of wits (which never actually happened).

And so here he is in the middle of Walmart the Sunday after Thanksgiving, trailing behind Lance with the shopping cart as he agonizes over what Christmas present to get Allura, the cute but strict senior RA who he’s been crushing on ever since she knocked on their suite door at 1 am and told him to stop talking so loudly.

“Do you think she’ll like this?” says Lance, interrupting Keith’s reverie by shoving a large reindeer plush in his face. With long eyelashes, oddly seductive eyes, a big green and red bow tied around its neck, and a nametag that reads Vixen , Keith is almost positive that Allura will not like it at all.

Lance looks so enthusiastic that Keith hates to say no. But he does anyway, because as annoying as he is, Lance is his friend, and he doesn’t want him to spend thirty dollars on a stuffed animal that’s probably going to end up in a toy drive bin or re-gifted to one of Allura’s cousins.

“Aww, but she’s so cute, look at her! What’s not to like?”

“I just don’t think Allura would be interested in a gift like that. I don’t think she likes stuffed animals anyway.”

“Everyone likes stuffed animals, Mullet. Don’t you?”

Keith ignores the use of his least favorite nickname and thinks back to the one stuffed animal he’s ever owned, a small red lion that still sits on his desk.

“Yeah. But that still doesn’t mean you should get Allura this reindeer. It’s literally named Vixen. She’s going to think you’re making another move on her.”

“My dear Watson, that’s exactly the point.”

“You know that she and Shiro have been a thing for like two years, right?”

Lance shrugs. “They haven’t announced anything formally. Your cousin is a cool dude, but I think I’ve still got a shot.”

“In your dreams,” Keith responds, snorting. “Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

“Small, insignificant detail. And anyway, Christmas is the time for miracles!”

Keith crosses his arms. “Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll get her something else,” Lance says, even as he tosses the reindeer into the cart.

“Aren’t you going to put this back?” asks Keith, raising an eyebrow.

Lance shakes his head. “Nah. I’m too attached to her at this point. She’s coming with me until I find the best forever home for her.”

“Good luck with that,” Keith replies, rolling his eyes.

“Wow, loving the enthusiasm,” quips Lance, before his eyes suddenly light up as he looks back and forth between Vixen and Keith.

Uh oh, thinks Keith, immediately realizing Lance’s intentions as he leans closer, his lips slowly widening into his trademark shit-eating grin.

“Say...Red has been looking pretty lonely sitting on your desk all alone, wouldn’t you say? Whaddaya say we get her a girlfriend? I’ve heard Vixen here is into lions.”

“Lance, I do not need a reindeer plush. Let alone one that looks like this.”

“This isn’t about you, Keith. This is about poor old Red, who has suffered a sad and lonely life without the companionship of a life partner, a soulmate. The kind of partner that Vixen could be. Don’t you want to give her a chance?”

“If I say yes, will you stop being so dramatic?”

“I will make no promises.”

“Then no.”

“You know I’m getting it anyway, right?”

“I was never under any illusions that you wouldn’t.”

“You know me so well,” sighs Lance, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m so touched we had this special moment here at Walmart today. I will treasure this day forever. And I’m sure Ms. Vixen here will appreciate that you gave her a chance at finding love.”

“Yeah, we really bonded,” Keith replies, his tone as dry and flat as can be. “By the way, you still need to figure out what you’re going to give Allura.”  

Lance frowns. “Shit, you’re right. Got any ideas?”

“I still think a giftcard is the best option,” says Keith with a shrug. “That way she can buy what she really wants.”

“But giftcards are so boring and unimaginative!”  

“They’re also the least risky option.”

“Why did I even ask you?”

“Because Hunk isn’t here.”

“Damn, you’re right. You’ve been right a lot today, actually. I’m shocked.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Is the great Lance McClain actually admitting to not knowing everything?”

“There’s a time and a place for every possible situation, Mr. Kogane. Today is your day to be right about everything. But rest assured, I’m sure tomorrow the world will be back to normal.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

Lance nods and grins. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, my friend. I most certainly will.”

 In the end, Lance concedes and agrees to get a giftcard for Allura, but only after he finds a singing Christmas card to go along with it. It’s a $7 spectacle of a card that plays three different songs with a Christmas tree that actually lights up on the cover. Secretly, Keith is actually super impressed by Lance’s ability to find a card that perfectly encapsulates everything about his personality, but he doesn’t want to contribute to his friend’s already inflated ego, so he just rolls his eyes and pretends to be annoyed.

 To everyone’s surprise, even Lance, Allura absolutely loves the card. She keeps it on her desk in her room and Keith can often hear the electronic trills of the carols carrying through the dorm hallway in the evenings, when she keeps her door propped open.  

 Vixen finds her forever home on Keith’s desk next to Red.

 Keith doesn’t remember when he started seeing Lance as more than an annoying but endearing friend. It happened slowly and then all at once, like the morning sun rising over the horizon. He doesn’t remember when he realized that warmth pools in his stomach every time Lance so much as smiles at him, or when the air started feeling electric every time Lance does that thing when he talks to him where he leans in closer and tilts his head ever so slightly.

If he’s perfectly honest with himself, it’s starting to drive him a little mad.

Keith knows that it would be easier if he could just confess to Lance and get it over with, but he also knows that if there’s a chance that he’s misinterpreting all the signals between them, that Lance truly doesn’t see him as more than a friend, that it’s going to be so, so awkward for the rest of the year, and he really doesn’t want to deal with a super awkward rooming situation again. He’s only got a year and a half left before graduation, and he can at the very least wait until junior year is over to confess to Lance, if he still feels that way by the end of the year. It’s the responsible, rational, and sensible thing to do.

The problem is, being responsible and rational sucks.

 Keith loses track of time at the gym in the evenings. It’s been a long and hard semester, and with the pressure that’s always on him to keep his grades up so he can maintain the scholarship that allows him to stay at school, the gym is the one place where he can just forget everything and lose himself in the mindless repetition, focusing inwardly and completely on himself. One evening two weeks after the Walmart Escapade, by the time he leaves, it’s almost 8pm, and the dining hall across the street from the gym is about to close.

As expected, the place is almost deserted, with the exception of some stragglers — one of whom, luckily, appears to be Pidge, who is completely oblivious to her surroundings, her nose buried in a thick book about robotics.

Keith grabs the last sorry looking sandwich and cold soup cup available in the buffet area and scoots over to sit beside her, tapping the book to catch her attention.

“Oh, hey, Keith,” she says, smiling as she puts the book down. “Did you just finish your workout?”

“Yeah. It felt really nice, I definitely needed it. I hadn’t gone for almost four days.”

Pidge snorts. “Wow, that’s such a long time. Almost a week!”

“I know,” he replies. “It’s not good.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I haven’t hit the gym in at least six months. So I wouldn’t worry so much.”

Keith laughs. “Fair enough.”

“So why were you there so late?” asks Pidge, turning to look at him appraisingly. “You don’t usually stay so long.”

Keith considers. “I guess I just had a lot I had to get off my mind.”

“Oh yeah? Anything you wanna talk about? You know I'm here for you.”

It's a big offer from Pidge, who Keith knows isn't the most touchy-feely person. He appreciates it, but he's not quite ready to talk about it yet.

“Thanks, Pidge. Not now, but maybe later.”

Pidge nods. “Okay. Take care of yourself though, alright? And call Shiro. He's been asking about you. When was the last time you guys talked?”

Though Shiro is Keith’s cousin, he's always been like a surrogate brother to Pidge, who went to the same high school as the two of them — and even more so now, after rescuing her brother and father during a research mission gone wrong, to a great personal expense of his own.

Now that she's a student at the same university as well and majoring in the same robotic engineering program as Shiro and her brother Matt, Pidge sees Shiro far more often than Keith does. It's something she reminds him of on a regular basis, along with berating Keith to reach out to him more often.

He appreciates the reminders; when he was bouncing around from foster home to foster home, Keith completely lost touch with Shiro, who was always his favorite cousin, and it wasn't until he came to college that they reconnected. But he is still unaccustomed to having that solid, steady connection, and it takes someone like Pidge, who is more connected to her family than anyone he knows, to remind him that he has that now too.

“I called him last week.”

Pidge crosses her arms, her eyes reproachful.

“So you've been to the gym more often than hanging out with your own family? That's pretty uncool.”

“It wasn't on purpose. I just lost track of time,” he mutters, even though he sounds unconvincing even to his ears.

“Well, I just reminded you. So call him, okay?”

Keith nods. “I will, I promise.”

“You better. Or I’m going to tell Lance you like him before you do.”

“Excuse me?!” Keith sputters. “Katie Holt, how did you — ”

“That’s why you were at the gym so long, wasn’t it? You had to work out all that sexual frustration.”

Pidge’s voice is quiet but triumphant, and Keith is too caught off guard to deny that she’s right.

“Am I...am I really that obvious?”

She shakes her head. “No. I just know you too well. Also, your ears get all red every time he walks in the room. It’s the same thing that happens to Shiro whenever he talks to Allura. Must be a family trait.”

“You’re a really observant kid, you know that?”

“Don’t ‘kid’ me, Keith Kogane,” retorts Pidge, rolling her eyes. “I’m only two years younger than you. And don’t think that by complimenting me that you’re going to get me to take back my threat. Either you hang out with Shiro this weekend or I tell Lance about your feelings.”

“You’re an evil little gremlin.”

“I don’t deny that.”

Devious little gremlin though she may be, Keith knows that Pidge is right. He’s missed talking to Shiro lately, the way his calming presence just makes every tough problem seem far simpler than it seems at first. Unfortunately, thanks to the fact that he is both the senior RA of the Voltron dorm quad and the top honors student in the robotics engineering program at Altea University, Shiro’s a hard one to track down even when Keith isn’t preoccupied by his own busy schedule.

Still, he feels the combined pressure of Pidge’s guilt tripping and her threat to reveal everything to Lance hovering over his head like a dangling sword as he slowly walks back towards his dorm. So he picks up the phone and calls Shiro, hoping as sweat trickles down the back of his neck that his cousin actually picks up.  

“Hey, Keith. How are you?”

Shiro’s voice is as warm and comforting as a cup of hot chocolate, and Keith has to resist the urge to spill everything to him right now, for not only the walls, but even the trees, have ears. He knows for a fact that Nyma, a nosy sorority girl who practically lives in the quad, is most likely eavesdropping behind a tree somewhere, and he is not interested in giving her the kind of ammunition she can use to blackmail him into helping her cheat on another exam.

“I’m...okay.”

Keith can practically hear Shiro raising his eyebrows over the phone.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m in the quad,” he responds, and Shiro murmurs, immediately understanding the situation.

“Hey, why don’t you swing by the RA office? I’m doing rounds tonight and it’s pretty quiet in here right now. I could use some company.”

“That sounds great. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

As always, Keith is amazed by how Shiro always knows exactly what to do when he feels uncomfortable, and as he walks across the quad, he feels incredibly lucky once again that family is no longer the abstract concept it has been for so many years. He won’t be alone for Christmas again, and that there’s someone who actually wants to listen to him talk about his problems.

He’s not used to it yet. He’s not sure he ever will be. But he will always be grateful.

Keith finds Shiro buried in a pile of books and paperwork when he arrives, but as he comes closer, he can see that his cousin’s attention is focused not on his work, but on a particularly lovely photograph of Allura sitting underneath a willow tree, dipping her toes into the water, her long white hair spilling over her shoulders.

“Working hard, I see,” he comments drolly as Shiro jumps.

“Oh! Hey there, buddy! Didn’t see you there!” Shiro responds in a remarkably chipper voice as his phone disappears back into his jacket pocket.

Keith smirks. “Mmhmm. How’s your robotics homework going?”

Shiro blinks at him, uncomprehending, until Keith points at the large text book lying ignored at the edge of the desk, eyebrows raised.

“Oh! That. It’s, uh, it’s going great. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk to me about my homework. What’s going on?”

Keith smiles and chooses to honor Shiro’s wish to deflect the conversation instead of teasing him about his secret girlfriend. Why he does it, he’s not sure — normally, he wouldn’t miss a chance to gently tease his perfect cousin about any perceived weaknesses, but he needs the good karma. And the help.

Unfortunately, he’s not sure what to say to fill the silence that should be filled right now with gentle ribbing about Allura.

Luckily, Shiro is as perceptive as always.

“It’s Lance, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“It’s okay to have feelings for him.”

“How did you know? Wait...don’t tell me it’s because of my ears.”

Shiro laughs. “No, it’s not because of your ears. Did Pidge tell you that? I’m sure she’s just teasing. But I didn’t know for sure, I just had a hunch. Sounds like I was right?”

Keith nods, groaning softly as he sinks into the chair across from the desk.

“I don’t know what to do. We’re roommates. I don’t want to screw things up again like I did last year.”

“Last year was an entirely different situation. The two of you weren’t even friends and your roommate clearly antagonized you.”

“It wasn’t all his fault. I wasn’t in a good place either and I was worried about you. He had nothing to do with you losing your arm but I took it all out on him. He didn’t deserve that. He’s not one of the idiots who were willing to abandon you in fucking Antarctica because of something they did wrong.”

Keith pales as Shiro winces at the memory. “God, I’m so sorry- I’m a dumbass.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro responds, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

Keith shakes his head. “You always say that, even when it’s not true.”

Shiro grins. “It might seem that way, but I only say it because it is true. Everything will be okay. Anyway, my point is that I don’t think you should be worried about ruining your friendship with Lance. You’re a cool guy and if he doesn’t see that, it’s his loss. And I trust in your ability to share your feelings with him in a mature way that doesn’t make things uncomfortable for either of you. You can do this. Just spend some time thinking about how you should say it. There’s no pressure or deadline. Just believe in your feelings and be honest with yourself and with him.”

“God, you’re such a dad,” Keith groans.

“Does that mean you’re feeling better?”

Keith smiles in spite of himself. “Yeah.”

Keith hangs out with Shiro for another half hour before Shiro has to leave for his dorm rounds. As they walk out the door together, Shiro wraps him in a bear hug and ruffles his hair before heading in the opposite direction with a wave, and Keith smiles as he heads back towards the upperclassman dorm. Lance must be back in their apartment by now — his shift at the rec center ends at 8:30, and he likes to get home before 9 so he can call his mother before she goes to sleep. The phone calls are usually short, but sometime stretch to almost an hour, and Keith has grown accustomed to the steady beat of their conversation in the evenings, punctuated by staccato phrases of rapid Spanish.

Keith marvels at Lance’s ability to switch back and forth between Spanish and English at the drop of a hat when he speaks to his parents. It seems almost like breathing, and he wishes he could do the same. But he only knows a few phrases of Japanese, and anyway, even if he was fluent, he wouldn’t have anyone to speak it with — none of Keith’s foster families have even been Asian, let alone Japanese, and Shiro doesn’t know how to speak it either.

Someday, maybe, Keith will take a course, water the long-neglected roots of his family tongue. In the meantime, listening to Lance is contentment enough.

Sure enough, Lance is in the middle of a particularly animated conversation with his mother when Keith walks into the apartment, and he grins at Keith and points at the kitchen island with his free hand as he paces around the living room. Keith follows his arm to a large bowl resting on a coaster in the middle of the island, and his eyes light up as he realizes that Hunk has made his favorite dinner for cold midwinter nights: mac and cheese. He immediately makes his way over to the kitchen and grabs a smaller bowl from the cabinet, filling it all the way to the top before carefully tiptoeing over to the living room and settling down on the fuzzy couch, the most comfortable piece of furniture in the apartment and his favorite place to eat dinner.

“Mamaaa, can’t you tell me now?” Lance whines into the phone.  “I know, I know, you have to talk to Tia Lucia. But call me back in an hour, okay? Don’t let Tia go on for ten years like she always does. I was talking to you first! No, I won’t be sleeping! What do you mean, why? You know I won’t be able to sleep until you give me a hint. And anyway, I don’t usually go to bed until midnight as it is.”

Lance turns to look at Keith and shakes his head, wearing an exasperated expression that is obviously meant for his mother as a steady stream of angry Spanish flows out of the phone. Keith lifts a hand to cover his smile; though he can’t understand a word, it’s pretty obvious that Lance is on the receiving end of a lecture right now, and watching his usually ineffable suitemate look like a scolded puppy is far more amusing than he ever expected it to be.

“Ma, oh my god, I promise I’m getting enough sleep! I swear I am! Just call me back later tonight, okay? Okay I love you bye!” he finally replies in a rush before hanging up the phone and slamming it onto the coffee table with a long groan.

Keith proceeds to watch with interest as Lance starts pacing around the living room and kitchen like a angry lion, glaring impatiently at the phone every thirty seconds.

He is practically bouncing on his toes, which would normally be the least distracting part of him, but today are adorned in what might be the brightest pair of neon blue socks that Keith has ever seen in his life. He’s never even imagined that wool could even come in a color so bright, and questions for the thousandth time why he’s pining after someone with such horrible taste in clothing.

To make things worse, the top edges of the socks are bedazzled with rhinestone cats that sparkle in the dim light of the kitchen as Lance prances around the island impatiently, waiting for his mother to call him back. The socks are a total fashion disaster, something far more suited to the wardrobe of a middle school girl, but somehow, Lance makes them work.

Like he does with everything.

Despite himself, Keith can’t help but smile as he watches his jittery friend.

“Why are you so restless? You told your mom to call you back soon, and I’m sure she will.”

Lance immediately stops bouncing and bounds over to Keith and flops onto the couch, leaning so close that Keith feels his cheeks flushing hot from their proximity.

“You’ve read Harry Potter, right?”

Keith considers the consequences of admitting to Lance that he has not read the books because they were always checked out at the library and he never stayed in one place long enough to get off the waitlist.

Knowing Lance, it would probably mean that he would drag him to the library, force him to spend the next two weeks reading — something Keith has never been all that fond of — and then dragged into drawn out conversations comparing the books and the movies (which Keith has also never seen), and even though he’s crushing hard on his friend, Keith does not think that he has the energy to deal with that.

So he answers “Obviously,” instead.

This turns out to be a terrible mistake, for Lance immediately launches into a fifteen minute monologue about someone called Mrs. Weasley and her family and how she has seven children, just like Lance’s family, and how after reading the books Lance asked his mom who loves to knit to start a family tradition of Christmas sweaters just like Mrs. Weasley and that this year marks the 10th anniversary of their tradition.

“So...you’re excited because your mom is making you a sweater?” Keith asks, when he finally manages to get a word in edgewise.

“No, buddy. I’m excited because it’s coming tomorrow! I can’t wait to see what it looks like!”  

“What’s there to wonder about? You already said there’s going to be a big L in the front, like there always is.”

Lance sighs. “I’m so sorry that you weren’t blessed with the kind of imagination that I was born with.”

Keith’s brows descend into a scowl. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that the L is only one element of the sweater! There could be stripes. There could be different kinds of yarn. There could be kittens. There could be rhinestones. Anything is possible . My mom was going to give me a hint right before my aunt decided to call her. Seriously, Tia Lucia always picks the worst time to call. It’s like she knows that my mom was about to tell me something important. Do you think she does it on purpose?”

Keith snickers. “I really don’t think your aunt is purposely trying to sabotage your Christmas gift. Besides, won’t it be better if it’s a surprise? You don’t have to wait long. Like you said, it’s coming tomorrow.”  

“You highly underestimate the levels of anxiety flowing through me right now, my friend. I hate surprises. You see, I might look like a beautiful calm river, but the current underneath is deep and dangerous and dark.”

“Okay, English major,” replies Keith, laughing. “Chill.”

Ultimately, Mrs. McClain does call back, but Lance refuses to tell Keith what she says.

“Won’t it be better if it’s a surprise? You don’t have to wait long,” he says in a singsong voice, prancing around Keith and bumping his bony hip against him.  

Keith rolls his eyes and sighs. “God, you’re a dick.”

“You know you love me,” says Lance, leaning in and pressing his cold nose against Keith’s cheek.

“Shut up,” says Keith, shoving him away as he flushes and looks down.

The next day, a large package labeled LANCE MCCLAIN, wrapped in very colorful wrapping paper emblazoned with multicolored candy canes arrives at the the dorm mailroom right when Keith walks up to the counter to pick up his science fiction magazine.

When the gum-chewing mail clerk realizes that they live in the same suite, she forges Lance’s signature on the package sheet and practically shoves it into Keith’s arms, ignoring his protests that Lance wouldn’t want anyone to touch his mail.

Luckily, the package is lighter than Keith expects, though he carries it like it’s made of glass — he doesn’t want anything to happen to Lance’s package, knowing that it’s a special gift from his mother.

He places it on the fuzzy couch just as Lance comes bouncing into the apartment, waving his phone around like a maniac.

“HUNK! IT’S HERE! HUNK!! CODE YELLOW! THE SWEATER IS HERE! WE HAVE TO GO DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT NOW!”

Lance stops dead in his tracks as he realizes that Keith is standing right in front of him, and his cheeks turn an interesting shade of burgundy as he drops his arms to his sides.

Keith shrugs and moves backward, gesturing awkwardly at the gift.

“Hunk isn’t here, but I, uh...I picked up your package from the mailroom. I tried to tell her it wasn’t my package, but the mail clerk wouldn’t let me come upstairs without it. And, uh, she...she might have forged your signature. I hope you don’t mind.”

Lance blinks and stares at Keith for a few uncomfortable seconds before he turns his gaze to the package on the couch and finally smiles.

“Of course not, dude. Thanks for picking it up. Come on, toss it over here.”

“Oh. Um, isn’t it fragile?”

“No way, buddy. My mom has four sons and two daughters,” replies Lance. “Fragile is not a word that exists in the McClain household.”

Hunk walks into the apartment with several heavy bags of groceries just as Keith is about to respond. His eyes immediately zero in on the brightly colored package in his best friend’s arms, and he gasps dramatically, dropping the bags on the ground as he rushes over.

“Oh my god, it’s here. Why didn’t you text me? I would have come earlier!”  

“Sorry dude, Keith over here got to it before me! I was actually just about to text you, but I got distracted by the wrapping paper. Isn’t it nice? I bet Clara picked it out.”

“Your big sis does have the best taste in the family,” replies Hunk, nodding emphatically. “This paper has her signature written all over it.”

Keith lingers behind them, not sure how to contribute to the conversation. He knows Lance’s family lives nearby, right next door to Hunk’s parents, less than an hour away, but he’s never met them. In the nearly four months he’s lived with Lance and Hunk, he’s learned that there are many members of the McClain clan and he’s starting to become familiar with all the names, but whenever his suitemates get on a tangent like this, he falls back until there’s a lull or until one of them changes the subject.

He focuses in on the multicolored candy canes of the wrapping paper, counting all the different variations: blue, red, green...

“Hey, Keith, are you listening?”

Keith jerks to attention and realizes that Lance is staring at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I was saying that I’m about to open the box, but we’re all going to guess what the special detail on this year’s sweater will look like before I do. Mama’s hint was ‘main’, so Hunk and I are trying to guess what that means. Maybe like a movie star? I am pretty sexy. What do you think?”

Keith considers. “That doesn’t really make any sense. What if she meant mane, like a lion mane?”

Lance shakes his head and laughs. “Nah, I don’t think so. Just because you have Red on your desk doesn’t mean that my mom put a lion on my sweater.”

“Makes more sense than you being a movie star.”

“I take offense to that. I’ll have you know that I have been compared to a young Oscar Isaac.”

“I don’t know who that is, but i’m pretty sure you don’t look like him at all,” replies Keith in a dry voice, crossing his arms.

Lance sputters incoherently and turns to Hunk for backup, but Hunk shakes his head.

“I told you nobody else would agree, Lance. Araceli only told you that you look like Oscar Isaac because she's 7 years old and knew that you'd give her ice cream if she complimented you.”

“You don’t know that,” says Lance, scoffing.

Hunk smiles serenely. “I do know that, because she told me. She even asked me to keep it a secret just between the two of us, but I’m telling you now because we’re best friends.”

“Since when did my baby cousin decide to confide in you?”

“What can I say? I’m good with kids,” says Hunk with a shrug.

He turns to Keith. “I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise to you that Lance has always been a sucker for compliments and that all of his cousins milk his ego for all it’s worth. I keep telling him not to believe everything they say, but he falls for their fake praise every time.”

“Hey, I can’t help it that my mother raised me to be an honest man. It’s not my fault for wanting to believe my cousins are as honest as me!” protests Lance, waving his arms around so wildly he accidentally knocks the box off the couch.

Keith picks it up and hands it back to him, eyebrows raised. “Why don’t you just go ahead and open it? You've been waiting for ages.”

Lance is practically vibrating as he takes the package from him with a huge grin and starts unwrapping it.

“It feels like it’s been a century,” he says with a sigh, as Hunk snorts and rolls his eyes.

Keith and Hunk exchange concerned glances as they watch Lance’s eyes widen to the size of small saucers as he stares down at the box and flips over the sweater to examine the back. As he does so, one of the sleeves flops out, and Keith notices that the wool is the same electric shade of blue as Lance’s bedazzled socks. He wonders if Lance’s mother made them too.

“So, um, Keith was right,” Lance murmurs, looking back up in a daze. “It’s, uh, it’s lions.”

“And how does it look?” prompts Hunk, leaning over to look inside.

“It’s….it’s perfect,” Lance whispers, lifting the sweater out of the box with a near reverence that rivals Rafiki raising a newborn Simba into the sky.

Keith has never seen such a sweater in his entire life, and he openly gapes at it as Lance slowly rotates it in front of him, pausing every few seconds so Keith can appreciate every gaudy, glorious detail.

The front is emblazoned with a large, ornate L, reflecting the Weasley sweater tradition. It is knitted in ivory white yarn, mixed with threads of silver that shimmer in the light. Surrounding the L are little yellow lion cubs wearing santa hats.

The back of the sweater, however, is the true star of the show. “Lance, my Lionheart” is knit across the top of the shoulders in fancy script. Underneath is a large red heart that takes up most of the back, surrounded by a design of a lion’s mane. The pièce de resistance is the center of the heart, where a large blue and white lioness with yellow eyes stands on two legs, carrying a blaster gun.

“Shouldn’t...shouldn’t she be carrying a sword?” replies Keith, bemused. “Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

“No way!” cries Lance. “Blue here is one of my favorite characters! You don’t recognize her?”

“I, uh, don’t really watch movies.”

“She’s from a television show called Lion Force, you heathen!” replies Lance with a scandalized gasp.

Keith shrugs. “Never heard of it. Anyway, it’s a cool sweater. Your mom is really talented.”

“So wait...you have no idea that your Red plush is from that show either, do you?”

“What?”

“And here this whole time I thought you were just this big old fan of Lion Force like me. I thought I knew you, Keith. How could I have been so utterly wrong?”

“What are you going on about?”

“What Lance means to say is that Red is another character on Lion Force,” says Hunk, placing a hand on his shoulder. “In fact, Blue and Red are rivals.”

“Huh. Interesting,” says Keith.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say about their legendary rivalry?” sputters Lance. “I’m appalled. You don’t deserve to have her love. I’m revoking your Red privileges.”

He marches past Keith and into his bedroom, plucking Red from her perch on the desk and cradling her in his arms while practically hissing at Keith.

Keith stares at him in disbelief as Hunk doubles over the couch with laughter.

“Are you seriously taking Red out of my room because I didn’t know she was from some random television show?”

“Shh, Red, don’t listen to the mean old Mullet head, he didn’t mean to insult you,” Lance coos to the plush. “It’s not your fault he doesn’t know how special you are.”

Keith throws his hands up into the air. “Come on! I barely watched any tv as a kid!”

“What?! How did you spend your free time?” shouts Lance, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I didn’t usually have any,” replies Keith, bristling.

“So if you didn’t have any favorite shows or characters, what did you ask Santa for Christmas as a kid? Don’t tell me it was like kettlebells and weights. Even you couldn’t have started at the gym that young.”

Keith crosses his arms and looks down. “Santa doesn’t usually bring presents to foster kids. Red was the only exception. I didn’t know she was from a tv show, I just thought she looked cool, so I picked her out of the pile of toys they brought to the house I was staying at that year.”

“Oh — I’m — ” starts Lance, his expression immediately softening. He places Red on top of a couch pillow and starts to reach out to Keith and jumps as his phone rings.  

“Hold that thought, it’s my mom.”

Keith awkwardly shifts away. “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

Lance shakes his head and clutches Keith’s arm. “Hey, no. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I still wanna tell you something.”

Keith nods mutely and silently watches Lance pick up the phone.  

“Hi Ma,” he says, his voice bright, though it lacks the exuberance it usually has when he talks to her. “Yes, I’m fine, nothing’s wrong! No, I’m not lying!”

“Lance’s mom can read him like a book, even when they’re not in the same room,” Hunk says to Keith in a loud stage whisper, earning himself a scowl from his friend before he turns his attention back to the phone.

“Yes, I got the sweater. YES, I LOVE IT, Mama, it’s amazing, thank you so much! No, I didn’t guess. You gave me the worst hint. My friend managed to guess right though. What? No, he’s not smarter than me. How was I supposed to know you meant lion mane? No, it was not obvious.”

Keith smirks at that.  

“How’s Clara?” asks Lance before slipping into Spanish. Keith can pick out a few words here and there, recognizing words that have become familiar to him from previous conversations (and a meticulous memorization of Enrique Iglesias songs from his early teen years, the first man he ever had a crush on and still holds a candle for to this day — there’s just something about the way he moves his body, and that voice ): boda, vestido, bailando .

Keith assumes he is talking about his older sister’s wedding, and watches curiously as Lance’s expression turns pouty and then clouded at something his mom is saying. He looks back and forth between Hunk and Keith (who look at each other and shrug), and mutters under his breath in Spanish before switching to English.

“Okay, I’ll talk to them,” he says, before hanging up.

“So...what’s going on?” asks Hunk. “Who's ‘them’ and why do you need to talk to them?”

“The two of you. And the reason is because I need to bring a date to Clara’s wedding. And I was hoping it could be either of you.”

“Obviously,” Hunk replies, nodding cheerfully.

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like there's a catch.”

“Well...my date needs to be able to dance. In front of a live audience. With 300 people watching.”

“Ah, I see,” says Hunk, decidedly less enthused.  “And why didn’t this come up before?”

“It’s because Clara met Marco at ballroom dances in college. Mama just had the brilliant idea of enlisting all of the younger siblings to do a different dance style at the reception. And she assigned me Salsa. Would either of you be willing to be my date?”

Hunk shakes his head. “Lance, you know how I am about large groups of people watching me. I don't think I can. Sorry, bud.”

Lance turns to Keith, eyes wide. “Be my date? It'll be worth it, I swear! And it's only three dance classes. It’s not like we’d have much time for more classes anyway, considering the wedding is in two weeks.  It won't take up much of your time and there's going to be so much delicious food, you won't even know where to start. Please?”

Keith is rapidly forgetting what it's like to say no to Lance.

“Yes,” he breathes, the word tripping out of his mouth before he even realizes it, and it's only when Lance is wrapping him in a bear hug and jumping up and down like an overly excited toddler that he realizes what he's done.

He’s drowning in a soft, bright blue sea, and there’s no way out.

Later that night, it occurs to Keith that Lance never told him what he wanted to say. He wonders what it was.

The next day after class, Keith wanders over to Shiro’s lab, with the intention of once again seeking advice from his trusty cousin and telling him he won’t be able to join him for Christmas dinner because of the wedding. As he pushes through the big glass doors that lead to the Garrison Institute of Robotics, he spots Shiro at the end of a big table, but pauses when he notices that his cousin is flanked on each side by Matt and Commander Holt, Pidge and Matt’s father and senior researcher at the institute. Together, the three of them are engrossed in whatever task they are working on, oblivious to Keith’s presence in the room as he sways silently in the doorway.

Pidge has mentioned before that the three of them are almost always in the lab together, so much so that she has dubbed them “The Three Roboteers”.

But Keith often wonders why the three of them came back to the lab at all, after everything that happened during their disastrous research trip to the Kerberos Antarctica Project.

If it were him, he would have sued the hell out of the school for taking him on a trip without the proper safety precautions, for even in his worst nightmares, Keith can’t imagine what it must be like to go with so much excitement and anticipation on a mission and then to experience the kind of hell they went through — the incredible fear, the loss of communication, and essentially being abandoned by the Garrison mission leaders when it looked like there was no way to return to the main camp, until they were finally able to pick up on Shiro’s weak radio signal.

Shiro doesn’t ever talk about it, nor would Keith ever press him to — but Pidge has shared some of the details that Matt has told her: how Shiro didn’t give up, even when it looked like all hope was lost, how he was the first one rescued when he went back out into the blizzard after he finally picked up on the radio signal from the search party, and how he refused to come with them until he went back and got Matt and Commander Holt as well.

“They were ready to abandon my brother and my dad and leave them for dead,” she had said. “They said it was too dangerous to go back. But Shiro, he refused to come unless it was all three of them. And I’ll always be grateful for that.”

Keith doesn’t know all of the details, but he knows this much. Commander Holt and Matt are alive because of his cousin. But they are also the reason he lost his arm from hypothermia, and why things will never be the same for him ever again.

Over time, Keith has come to love Pidge like a little sister. But as someone who spent the better part of his sophomore year lashing out at people who didn’t understand why he was so angry about the fact that his cousin had almost died but had somehow managed to forgive the people who almost killed him — to the point where he almost got expelled from the Garrison — he’s never been quite as easy around the other Holts. Keith knows it’s not their fault at all, but Shiro is the only family he has, and whenever he sees them, he’s reminded that he almost lost him, and he always has a hard time looking either of them in the eye.

Maybe it’s because Shiro is a stronger and better person than him, but Keith has never understood how he managed to adapt to normal life again so quickly. The way he’s bounced back to ordinary life — how he picked back up with Allura again like nothing had ever happened — how he jokes and smiles and gives advice to everyone — it’s a confusing blessing that Keith doesn’t want to take advantage of, but he doesn’t think he will ever understand.  

A small hand on his shoulder breaks Keith from his reverie. He turns around to see Pidge standing behind him with a tiny smirk dancing around her lips.

“I see my threat worked,” she says, her voice ringing with satisfaction. “You actually left the gym and came to hang out with Shiro! I’m so proud. And now that you have, I can delete the text I was about to send to Lance from your phone with your love confession.”

Keith’s jaw drops. “What?! How?”

“Oh, hacking into your phone was incredibly easy,” she replies, waving her arm dismissively. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, since you came to hang out with us.”

“Remind me again why you want to go into robotics instead of cyberhacking for the CIA or something?”

Pidge shrugs. “Robots are way more interesting than people.”

“A completely legit argument!” shouts Matt, who finally notices the newcomers as Pidge’s piercing voice carries across the room.

“Keith, my boy, how are you?” adds Commander Holt, smiling at the two of them, as Shiro turns his gaze to Keith with a questioning look in his eyes. He knows Keith well, and he knows that most of the time, he wouldn’t be caught within 200 feet of the robotics building, let alone twiddling his thumbs inside an actual lab.

“I’m fine,” Keith manages to mutter, though he avoids making direct eye contact.

Shiro turns to Commander Holt. “Sir, do you mind if the four of us take a quick lunch break?”

“Of course not,” he replies. “Take your time. See you in an hour.”

Shiro nods. “Thanks sir, we appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.”

Shiro leads the way to the campus cafe next to the lab, which resembles a greenhouse more than it does a place to eat, but Keith is pleasantly surprised by the quirky range of options. It occurs to him that Lance might enjoy some of the more outlandish options, but he settles on a simple ham sandwich for himself.

As he walks back to the table, Shiro, Matt, and Pidge are engaged in an animated conversation, which settles down as he takes a seat.

“So, Keith, how are you, dude?” asks Matt. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you! You never come by the lab anymore!”

“That’s because he’s always in the gym,” says Pidge. “Or mooning over the love of his life.”

“Pidge, be nice,” scolds Shiro, as she smirks.

Keith turns to Shiro. “Lance’s older sister Clara is getting married on Christmas. And he asked me to be his date. He asked me to take dance classes with him too, for a dance we have to do together at the reception.”

“And of course you said yes,” Pidge interjects.

“Um, yeah,” says Keith. “I did. So I’m sorry, Shiro, but it looks like I won’t be able to come over for dinner.”

“That’s fine,” says Shiro, smiling. “Go have fun with Lance.”

“How old is Clara?” asks Matt.

Keith turns to Matt. “She’s 24. Lance said they’ve been engaged for almost 2 years, since her fiance proposed right after graduation.”

To Keith’s surprise, Shiro unexpectedly flushes at this, while Pidge looks at him, wearing a knowing smirk on her face.

“Wait, am I missing something here?”  he asks, turning back and forth between the Holts and his cousin.

“Oh, nothing new. Just a certain Allura Singh who Shiro over here would love to make an honest woman,” Matt replies with a laugh. “I’m sure you already know how it is.”

Keith’s eyes bulge out. “No way. Is that why you took on so many hours at that extra tutoring job?”

“Oh yeah. He’s been saving up for a ring for ages now,” says Pidge, piping in. “Even though I keep telling him I can make one in a lab and it’ll cost him nothing. But noooo, he wants to get Allura a real pink sapphire.”

“Hey, it’s her favorite gemstone. And I want to earn it myself, Pidge. If I keep working at this, I’ll have enough money by the end of next summer to buy a nice one for her.”

Keith is in awe. “I had no idea you were so serious about her. Why didn’t you ever tell me anything?”

Shiro smiles and shrugs. “I have been for a while. It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly, over time...I just knew. I knew I wanted to always be with her.” His eyes widen. “By the way, you can’t tell anyone, okay? Only the three of you even know that we’re dating. Allura wants to make sure there’s a professional boundary between her and the underclassmen and I want to respect that.”

Keith looks at Pidge. Pidge looks at Keith.

Should I tell him?

If you don’t, I will.

Shiro looks back and forth between them and frowns. “What? Am I missing something?”

Keith’s lips turn up into a shit-eating grin, and he watches with amusement as Shiro’s confusion shifts into cold trepidation.

“You know that everyone already knows you’re dating, right?”

Shiro’s jaw drops. “How?! We’ve been so careful!”

“Damn, you sound just like Allura,” comments Matt. “You really have been together too long.”

Keith laughs. “Seriously, Shiro. Only a blind person would miss the way the two of you look at each other. It’s been an open secret for the past year at least. The two of you are about as subtle as a neon light.”

“Is that right?” Shiro replies, turning knowing eyes to Keith.

And then Keith stops laughing. Because he knows what Shiro is thinking.

He’s the same way with Lance.

A few days later, as Keith follows Lance inside an unassuming building inside a strip mall, he’s not quite sure what to expect. The last time he was actually inside a dance studio was to pick up one of his foster sisters from her dance classes, and he would always come in and out in the blink of an eye.  

As soon as they walk inside the studio, they are met by a sea of people clasping hands and whirling around the wooden floor in brightly colored gym clothes as salsa music pulses from the speakers.  

An older couple emerges from the crowd and makes a beeline for them, smiling broadly.

“Hello! You must be Lance and Keith,” says the woman, pressing her hands together. “I’m Lucille, and this handsome fellow over here is my husband Ernest. Welcome to the studio! We are so pleased you’re here. Are either of you familiar with latin dancing?”

“Only a little bit,” says Lance, as Keith shakes his head.

“Not to worry,” says Ernest. “We’ll whip you both into shape in no time before the wedding.”

“Now, you’re the only same sex partners in the class,” says Lucille. “But that’s not a problem. Both of you can switch between who’s the lead, but for the routine you’ll be working on for the reception, we’ll need to decide who should be the main lead. We’ll let you decide that.”

“Well, I’m taller,” says Lance. “Therefore, I should lead.”

Keith snorts. “Didn’t you just say you’re ‘only a little bit’ familiar with latin dancing? I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

“Excuse me, Mullet. You don’t even listen to music. Your powerlifting skills have no relevance here in the dance studio. Do you even know who Fred Astaire is?”

Keith rolls his eyes and shoots forward without another word, taking charge and placing Lance’s left hand on his right hip and taking his right hand in his left before spinning him into a rapid turn and catching him and dipping him backward.

“You were saying?”

Lance doesn’t protest, instead, flushing bright pink and slightly nodding his head, breathless.

“Well then — it looks like we’ve got that sorted out!” chirps Lucille, walking away to check on the other couples in the class.

“Dude, you dipped me like a pro,” Lance whispers in awe as Keith brings him back upright. “Why didn’t you tell me you could dance before?”

Keith shrugs. “I’ve never taken any lessons or anything.”

Lance shakes his head. “I don’t believe you. You have some sort of dance background. I know you’ve got that whole sexy mysterious thing going on, but I call bullshit. There’s no way you’re a beginner.”

“I mean, sometimes I watch dance videos and try to replicate the moves. As a cardio workout before I go to the gym to lift weights.”

“Riiiiiiight. A cardio workout. Of course. I totally believe you,” Lance replies, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re not in some secret Dance Club where you dance in like, underground clubs on Tuesday nights and challenge your rivals from the other side of town?”

“Lance, you know where I am on Tuesday nights. In the apartment. Doing homework. Why would I go to underground dance battles?”

“I don’t know! Maybe you have an evil twin named Kenneth who replaces you in the apartment while you’re out dancing like fucking Michael Jackson!”

“And you call me a conspiracy theorist,” retorts Keith, rolling his eyes.

Ernest coughs and waves his arm between them. “If the two of you don’t mind, I’d like to get started on teaching the routine. You only have three sessions to learn this, so time is of the essence.”

As Ernest instructs them in the steps of the routine and insists that they move closer together and try to feel the passion in the music, Keith notices that Lance seems flushed and distracted the entire time.

Are you okay? he wants to ask, but something about the veiled look in Lance’s eyes as they move forwards and backwards, practicing simple turns and fancy footwork, makes him keep his mouth shut.  

His awkwardness has to be because of their close proximity and the uncomfortably close position Ernest is placing them in. There’s no way he could possibly feel the same way.

Because Lance is someone who wears his emotions on his sleeves, and if he had any sort of romantic feelings for Keith, he would say something. He wouldn’t be engaging in inane, nonsensical banter about underground dance clubs and evil twins.

No matter how much Keith wishes he did, he can’t change the truth. And even if there’s a one-in-a-million chance that Lance does feel the same way as him, he won’t risk finding out by doing something stupid by confessing before the wedding. All he can do is memorize this dance and be the friend that Lance is asking him to be at the wedding.  

There’s too much at stake to do anything else, and Keith doesn’t want to ruin their friendship or the event by doing something selfish like blowing little things out of proportion and assuming that there’s something more between them than there actually is.

No matter how much he wishes it wasn’t true.

The evening after their final dance class and a few days before the wedding, Keith finally has a quiet moment alone in the apartment, free of obligations and deadlines, and he is relieved. To both Lance and his own surprise, he ended up naturally taking charge of the choreography for their dance. After arguing multiple times with Ernest about the steps in the routine and ultimately persuading Lucille to give them extra time in the studio to practice in the evenings until they got everything right, Keith is finally happy with how the final choreography has turned out, if completely exhausted by the process.  

Finals are finally over and the dorm is almost deserted, free of the normal hustle and bustle of student life that often presses through the thin walls, especially when Keith is trying to concentrate.

He climbs onto the fuzzy couch with a library book, his phone, and his headphones, ready to have a few solitary hours all to himself, when Lance suddenly appears out of nowhere and sidles up next to him like a clingy cat, pressing up against his arms.

“Keeeeith, whatcha reading?” he trills, pushing his head onto Keith’s chest in an attempt to get a better glance at the book.

Keith pulls out an earbud and pauses the music on his phone to glare down at him as he moves the book out of range.

“Go away, Lance. Why are you still here, anyway? Weren’t you planning to go home to help everyone for the wedding?”

Unfortunately, instead of leaving, Lance settles in more comfortably into the couch and somehow manages to lean in even closer to Keith, practically draping over him like an oversized blanket.  

“Nah. First of all, you’re my date. How can I leave you all alone on Christmas Eve Eve? And there are too many people at my house anyway. My mom would just say that I’m underfoot. And she’d make me do chores. The great thing about being here is that you and Hunk do everything. Hunk cooks, you clean, I entertain...it’s the perfect lifestyle. Why would I return to a place where I’d have to start cleaning and running errands as soon as I walk through the door?”

“So basically, you’re just lazy,” replies Keith. “Got it.”

“Hey now, I resent that. I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart. At home, I would be an extra mouth to feed. They can’t afford that, not with the wedding in two days.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Keith comments drily.

“Not to mention, this fuzzy couch is the best seat in the house. I could marry this fuzzy couch. And then there’s you. You’re like a free space heater I don’t even have to pay for. Seriously, how are you so warm?”

Keith knows he should ignore Lance instead of encouraging him, but, as always, he can’t help but give into his nettling. It’s just something about him that he can’t ignore.

And truly, he doesn’t want to.

“Do you really want to know?”

“What, why you’re so hot?”

“No, idiot. What I’m reading.”

“Oh! That. Obviously. Why do you think I’m still here? I’ve gotta know what my mysterious friend’s taste in books is.”

Keith sighs and hands it to him. “Fine. Look.”

Lance’s eyes widen as he sits up and reads the embossed title. “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone? But why? Goblet of Fire is the best one in the series for a reread, if you ask me.”

“Which one is that?”

“Oh my god — you haven’t read them at all, have you? You lied . Oh my god.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Lance’s voice rises, simultaneously triumphant and incredulous. “Oh my god, you’ve never read Harry Potter. You were lying the whole time. My world has been turned upside down. Please tell me you’ve at least seen the movies.”

“Stop being dramatic. You know I don’t really watch movies. The tickets are too expensive.”

“But on the internet, everything is free. You have many options, Keith. You should take advantage of them.”

“Not everyone has free time like you, Lance.”

“I’m just saying. It’s an option now, and you should watch them.”

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

Lance lies back down on Keith’s lap and reaches for his phone. “So...what are you listening to?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” replies Keith, scowling.

“Nah. Kind of hard when you have a family as big as mine. Anyway, tell me about your playlist. What kind of music do you like?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“If you don’t, I’ll just ask Pidge to hack into your phone for me and I’ll find out anyway.”

“And what makes you think she would ever do that for you?”

“She and I are best buds! I’m sure she would be happy to help a dude out.”

Keith chortles, and Lance’s eyes turn pleading.

“Pleaseee? I’m looking for new songs to add to my playlist and Hunk’s taste in music is awful. I don’t know why he likes Celine Dion so much.”

“Ugh, fine,” says Keith, handing over his phone. When Lance gets on a tangent like this, he knows that it’s difficult to stop him unless he gets what he wants; he’s a bit of a child that way.

Lance grips the phone eagerly and starts scrolling through the playlist of songs. His jaw drops open as he reads the titles, and he turns to Keith in disbelief.

“This is without a doubt the weirdest collection of songs I’ve ever seen on a single playlist. Are these really all your favorite songs? ‘You Raise Me Up’ by Josh Groban, ‘Hungry Eyes’ from Dirty Dancing ?, ‘Last Christmas’ by WHAM!, and ‘Nobody Wants to Be Lonely’ by Christina Aguilera and Ricky Martin? Not to mention that I'm pretty sure I spotted a few Enrique Iglesias songs in there, too. Damn, and I thought Hunk’s taste in music was eclectic.”

“What?” says Keith, bristling. “I like how those songs sound.”

“Oh no, no, don’t get me wrong, I like them too! I guess I’m just surprised. I had you pegged as more of a hip hop kind of guy. I wasn’t expecting Josh Groban or soft rock from the 1980s to be your favorite thing, you know?”

His tone turns contemplative and persuasive. “Hey, speaking of which...how about we do that dance move like they do in Dirty Dancing in our routine?”

Keith stares at him. “What, the leap at the end?”

“Yeah. It’s such a cool move! It would definitely help us stand out from the crowd.”

“No. Absolutely not. And anyway, I don’t think that’s a salsa thing. And even if we were going to do this, I would have to spend time choreographing how you would do the leap, and we absolutely don’t have the kind of practice time we would need to perfect a leap like that.”

“What, you don’t think I look like Patrick Swayze?”

Keith snickers. “Absolutely not. You are Jennifer Grey in this situation.”

“That’s a fair point. Nobody puts me in a corner,” replies Lance, nodding seriously, before his expression turns mischievous.

“So then...are you saying you want to call me Baby?”  

Keith flushes red, but stands his ground as he leans in closer. “Are you saying you want me to?”

Lance’s pupils flare wide and his mouth forms into a perfect O.

For once, he is shocked into silence, and just as Keith is starting to wonder if he’s misread everything and taken things too far, Hunk enters the room and breaks the tension.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, get a room!” he says, shaking his head as he observes the scene before him. “I don't care where you go, just take it off the fuzzy couch, please. I don’t want any messes to clean up.”

“Aw, Hunk, you’re no fun,” mutters Lance as he slinks off the couch and into his room.

Keith shivers at the absence of his warmth as he pulls away.

On Christmas Eve, Keith wakes up and looks out the window to see the world shrouded in fog. It’s a pea fog morning, dense as can be, and he can barely see the thicket of trees across the street from their dorm, though he can almost make out the flickering red and green lights that their neighbors forgot to turn off last night. When he sees Hunk’s large yellow jeep missing from the parking lot, he realizes that he and Lance must be the only ones left in the apartment.

He startles at the soft rapping on his door as Lance’s voice echoes through the thick wood. “Hey, are you awake yet? Mama wants you to come to Clara’s pre-wedding brunch. She wants to personally thank you for whipping me into shape during dance practice. Her words, not mine.”

Keith yawns. “Yeah, I am. Be out in five minutes.”

“Great! I have something I want to show you.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling. You’ll have to come out and see for yourself.”

“You know, I just realized that you’re even more annoying in the morning than you usually are when I come home from class.”

“That’s so rude!” Lance protests. “I know you can’t see me right now, but I’ll have you know that you just made me cry.”

“Don’t blame me for your seasonal allergies.”

“Whatever. You better come out in five minutes or I’m using my lockpicking skills to break into your room.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Keith retorts.  

Lance’s voice turns wheedling and devilish. “What makes you think I haven’t done it before?”

“What?”

“I know you sleep shirtless.”

“Lance…. ”

“Just come out in five minutes, okay?”

“Fine.”

When Keith walks into the living room, he sees Lance perched on the edge of the fuzzy couch, wearing his electric blue Christmas sweater and practically vibrating with excitement and holding a large box. He jumps up as soon as he notices Keith and presses it into his arms.

“What’s this?” Keith asks.

Lance nods enthusiastically. “It’s a present for you! Open it up!”

“But you already got me Vixen,” replies Keith. “You got me another one?”

“It’s a surprise to you from my mom and me!” Lance crows, clasping his hands together.

Keith feels a rush of both gratitude and guilt flooding through him. He’s not used to receiving or giving presents, and he’s not sure if Lance expects anything in return.

“It’s for being such a great last minute partner,” says Lance. “I told my mom how you totally just took charge of our dance, and she was so impressed she wanted to make something for you.”

Keith smiles in spite of himself. “Thanks, Lance. You didn’t have to tell her to get me a present. But thanks.”

“Enough thank yous,” huffs Lance. “More opening!”

Keith laughs. “Okay, okay!”

He sits down and places the box on his lap, and as soon as he opens it up and unfurls the tissue, he realizes what it is: a Christmas sweater of his own, made of rich crimson wool with a large K knitted into the front, in ivory and black.

He looks back up at Lance in confusion.  “But you told me it usually takes your mother a really long time to make these! Are you telling me she made this for me in two weeks?”

Lance, for some reason, flushes.

“Well...I might have asked her to make one for you the day you told me about how you got Red when you were a kid. Which is why I told her to make the sweater red too. You, uh...you might want to pick it up and flip it over.”

Keith raises an eyebrow and turns back to the sweater and turns it over.

In the same ivory white as the K is “Sir Keith”, knit in calligraphic letters across the back. Underneath is the animated version of Red that Lance had pulled up on Google and shown him after he had confessed to having no idea what Lion Force was, standing on two legs and holding a sword, surrounded by a ring of fire. As Keith brings it closer to his face, he discovers that the flames almost resemble orange and yellow roses. It occurs to him that this sweater is somehow even more detailed than Lance’s sweater, and that it must have been Lance himself that told his mother to make the sweater as intricate as it is.

It is more over the top than anything Keith has ever seen in his life, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His brain interprets this confusion by making him double over and burst into uncontrollable giggles, laughing so hard that tears start streaming out of his eyes.

Lance stares at him in alarm. “Keith?! What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

With great effort, Keith stops laughing and turns to look at him.

“This is the greatest present I’ve ever gotten in my life,” he manages to choke out. “Bar none.”

Lance sinks onto the couch next to him, clearly relieved.

“Thank god. You seriously had me freaking out that I totally fucked up, jesus.”

Keith shakes his head. “No — no. I just — I don't know. Thanks — this is...this is great. Yeah.”

Lance rubs the back of his neck and nervously taps him on the shoulder.

“Um. Keith? The sweater comes with one more thing.”

“Don't tell me it’s a reindeer antler headband like the one you gave Hunk.”

“What? No. Those are a special gift for Hunk.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“It’s a matching pair of socks to go along with the sweater. And my mom wants you to wear both to the brunch.”

“No. ”

“Get changed quick, my friend. We have to get out of here in twenty minutes if we want to beat the crowds on the highway. My mother and Clara can’t wait to meet you.”

Lance is uncharacteristically quiet during the car ride to the restaurant where the McClains are hosting Clara’s pre-wedding brunch, and Keith falls asleep almost as soon as Lance merges onto the freeway, only waking up when Lance gently shakes his shoulders and tells him they’ve arrived.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty, we’re here,” says Lance, amused, but gentle. “Wake up.”

“Already?” Keith murmurs groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“Yup. I hope you’re ready to meet my family. They’re dying to meet you.”

Keith has known about this brunch ever since Lance sent him the itinerary for the wedding weekend, but he still braces himself and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“I think I am.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Keith feels like all eyes are on him when he enters the restaurant, when he is suddenly surrounded on all sides by a cloud of pearls, lace, and fragrant perfume in a hug that is so tight it rivals Hunk’s embraces.

“Bienvenidos, Keith!” shouts Mrs. McClain as she pulls back. “I am so happy you were able to join us today. Lance has told all of us so much about you, we’ve been so eager to meet you! Do you like your sweater? You look so wonderful in it, thank you for wearing it! Actually, I had wanted to make Lance’s sweater red, but he told me to make his blue instead and to make yours red- he said it was much more of your color, and I must say, he was right. Red really suits your complexion.”

“He...he told you to make his blue and mine red?” asks Keith, confused. “But he said he only asked you to make a sweater for me recently  — ”

“Okay, Ma, that’s enough, I’m going to take Keith to meet the rest of the family!” Lance interjects, his ears lobster red and his voice squeaky as he tugs Keith away by the arm.

Keith quickly forgets the detail of the sweater as he is enveloped on all sides by Lance’s family, who all seem to possess the same gene that he does of having the ability to capture the attention of an entire room and making their presence known. Concentrated in a small restaurant, it’s a heady dose of extroversion, and Keith is actually relieved when Mrs. McClain pulls him and Lance aside.

“Boys, can you please do a favor for me?”

“Of course,” replies Keith, as Lance whines.

“Only if you keep an eye on my chocolate-chip pancakes,” says Lance, crossing his arms. “You know Clara’s going to eat them if I don’t!”

“Hush, Lance. Don’t be a child. You’re going to be 22 years old in March,” says Mrs. McClain, in a voice that even Keith recognizes cannot be questioned.  

“Fiiiiiiiiiiine ,” Lance replies reluctantly. “What do we need to do?”

“Be a dear and get the spare umbrellas and ponchos from your father’s minivan for everyone, would you? It started raining half an hour ago and the forecast says it won’t stop until after we need to leave, and I don’t want all the girls to get their nice brunch outfits wet.”

“And what about us?” protests Lance. “The girls can’t get wet, but it’s fine if we do?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Lance. I brought my old umbrella with me. The two of you will have to share, but something tells me you won’t have a problem with that,” she adds with a wink. “Anyway, get to it. We need to get everyone buttoned up and out of here in 20 minutes. Father Coran is already waiting for us at the church for the dress rehearsal. We don’t have much time.”

Mrs. McClain hands the umbrella to Keith and bustles away without another word.

“Should we go?” he asks, sounding more uncertain than he means to.

Lance nods and opens the door. “After you.”

They walk silently towards the minivan, twin circles of red flushing across their cheeks.

They’re not dating; but the McClain clan seems to be under the impression that they are.

And Keith can’t blame them for thinking so; somewhere in the past few weeks, he and Lance have silently shifted into the fuzzy gray space beyond friendship, but they haven’t talked about it.

It seems obvious to Keith now that he thinks about it, that whatever the relationship is between the two of them, they’re something more than friends.

And less than lovers.

Because though he secretly wishes for more, Keith still doesn’t know what Lance wants himself.

Then again, Lance doesn’t know what he wants either. Because he’s never had the courage to tell him.

And as he stands next to him, holding the umbrella above Lance’s head as he opens up the trunk of the van and starts gathering the bags filled with spare ponchos and umbrellas, it briefly occurs to Keith that this might be the perfect moment to confess his true feelings.

But he doesn’t.

Because confessing now means confessing while they are still surrounded by Lance’s family, and as nice as they all seem to be, Keith wants to give Lance the chance to react in a private space, where he can process everything away from the curious, nosy eyes of his family members.

Keith doesn’t want to spring a sudden confession on him right in the middle of a wedding; that sort of thing works in the romantic comedies Lance is always watching, but it’s not something that will work in real life.

Ultimately, he decides to wait until after they’re back in the apartment after the wedding, when they’re alone again.

Even though it’s getting a little harder to hide his true feelings every moment he stands beside him, especially when he can feel the self-satisfied grins from Lance’s family members every time they look at the two of them standing together.

And so they continue to collect the umbrellas and ponchos in silence. As Lance closes the trunk and joins Keith back under Mrs. McClain’s rickety old umbrella and they walk back to the restaurant, pressed together, it doesn’t occur to either of them to open up one of the spare umbrellas in the bag.  

Christmas morning arrives in a whirlwind of church music, multiple cousins piling onto the bed in Keith’s guest bedroom in the McClain household, and Lance starting to sob almost as soon as he sit down at the breakfast table and sees Clara already done up in her bridal makeup.

“Come on, man, we’re not even at the church yet!” shouts Arthur, one of Lance’s little brothers, punching him in the arm. “Stop crying!”

“I can’t believe Clara grew up so fast! How can she leave me? How can she leave our family?” wails Lance, waving his arms histrionically as Keith looks on with amusement.

Clara groans and presses a hand to her forehead. “ Dios Mio , stop acting like we’re living in a novela. You know I’m not going anywhere. Marco and I are literally only moving two blocks away. And you’re one to talk. Who’s the one who lives almost an hour away and almost never comes home?”

Lance presses his hand against his heart. “You wound me, Clara. I’m crying for the permanent loss to our family and you’re calling me out for never coming home? So ungrateful. So very ungrateful.”

Clara snorts. “Save the drama for your speech at the reception. Don’t you want to be the best one? Don’t forget, best speech gets a special surprise.”

“Damn straight!” shouts Lance, eyes sparkling. “I will have the best speech!”

“Good, I’m glad. Just...try not to cry as much as you did at the dress rehearsal, okay?”

Lance laughs. “I’ll make no promises, but I’ll do my best.”

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Lance blubbers through the entire ceremony, his eyes red and watery the whole time.

With an hour to go until the reception, Keith is alone in the dressing room, preparing for the routine. Lance is nowhere to be found, and though he is confident in the choreography, he suddenly feels nervous. He runs through the steps over and over again, twirling an imaginary Lance around the room.

But Keith still feels the frenetic rush of unease pulsing through his veins.

And when he feels that way, there’s only one person who can calm him down. Shiro.

He fumbles through his gym bag for his phone and speed dials him, hoping that his cousin will be able to hear his ringtone over the loud chatter and conversation that usually dominates Christmas dinners at the Shirogane household.

Thankfully, the call connects after the second ring.

“Hello? Shiro?” he breathes. “Are you busy?”

“Hello, Keith,” comes a distinctly feminine and British voice from the other side of the phone. “Merry Christmas!”

“Oh, hi, Allura. Merry Christmas to you too. Is my cousin there?”

“Yes, of course. Just hold on a tick, I’ll let him know you want to talk to him.”

Keith smiles into the phone as he waits. He’s glad that Allura is with Shiro for Christmas dinner. After nearly two years of dating in secret, it’s about time for the two of them to make their love known, and a Christmas dinner is a great place for them to start.

“Hey buddy,” says Shiro as he finally picks up the phone. “How’s the wedding going? Have you performed yet?”

“No, not yet. We go on stage in fifteen minutes.”

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be. But I’m still nervous.”

Shiro laughs. “Don’t be. I believe in you. After everything you’ve accomplished this semester, don’t tell me you’re afraid of one dance routine.”

“You know why I’m nervous,” Keith replies, petulant. “It’s not because of the dance.”

“I know, it’s because of Lance. But just give it a chance. You never know, it could end in romance!”

“You are such a dad,” grouses Keith. “Were you rhyming on purpose?”

“So unappreciative,” says Shiro. “At least Allura appreciates my jokes. Don’t you, Princess?”

“You call her Princess? ” Keith groans, pressing a palm against his face. “That’s disgusting. That is too much. Listen to yourself.”

“Hey, you’re the one who told us to be more open with our feelings. We’re just following your advice.”

“That’s right, Keith!” Allura trills. “Now follow your heart!”

“You heard the lady,” adds Shiro. “Faint heart never won fair knight, Sir Keith.”

“I can’t believe you two,” says Keith.

“We love you too,” Shiro replies. “Now go!”

Keith: Hey, where are you? Are you ready?

Lance: I’m in the hallway with Hunk outside the reception hall

Keith: Ok, I’ll be there in a minute  

Keith walks briskly down the hallway. There are less than five minutes for their performance, and despite the words of encouragement from both Shiro and Pidge, he can feel the nerves kicking back in.

And then, just as he is about to round the corner to where Lance says he is standing with Hunk, he overhears Lance say something that is most certainly not meant for his ears.  

“I’m so nervous. What if I’ve been reading the signals wrong the whole time? He’s going to be so pissed with me. I thought I was being totally obvious with him, but he hasn’t responded to anything. Like the other night when you walked in on us. My head was in his lap, Hunk. And he didn’t do anything. What if I’m making an idiot out of myself for no reason?”

Hunk chortles, and Keith can imagine him smiling. “I know, Lance. I was there. And trust me, it’s going to be fine. Just get through the reception and then confess, okay?”

“But I don’t want him to be mad at me! What if I screw up our friendship? It’s going to ruin everything forever if you’re wrong, Hunk.”  

“I’m never wrong about this sort of thing,” Hunk replies with confidence. “I’m sure Keith won’t turn you away. And anyway, your entire family thinks you’re dating already anyway, judging from what you told me happened at brunch.”

“I guess you’re right,” says Lance with a sigh. “But I still feel sick.”

“Channel your nerves into focusing on the dance. I promise it’s going to be okay. Trust me!”

Keith silently blesses Hunk as he treads heavily on the wooden floor so that the two of them have time to realize that he’s walking around the corner.

By the time he gets to them, both Lance and Hunk look totally casual and relaxed, like nothing has happened at all.

“Hey,” says Keith. “Are you ready to get on the dance floor and show everyone our moves?”

Lance’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps nervously, but his gaze is steady as he extends his arm towards Keith.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Keith smiles. “Then let’s go.”

Affirmation.

It’s an emotion Keith has rarely had the chance to experience, in a life that has been turbulent and unpredictable, with people who come in and out of his life like the tides.

Nobody ever stays; no home is ever forever; nothing is ever permanent.

But as he glides into the room with Lance, grasping tightly onto his hands and spinning him onto the dance floor as the music pulses through the room and the audience bursts into raucous cheers,  Keith feels whole in a way he has never felt before.

Affirmation.

Lance feels the same way he does. He feels it in their mutual breathlessness, the way Lance’s lips are slightly parted and his cheeks flushed as Keith moves closer and their hips move in sync, together in a way that’s true and real and pure fire as their legs interlock and intertwine at the speed of light.

Affirmation.

Even though Lance has yet to express his feelings in words, he’s proved it time and time again through his actions.

The sweater.

The constant attention.

The smiles.

The stupid nicknames.

The open invitation, welcoming him into his family — into his life.

Affirmation.

Keith can tell that Lance is bewildered at first by his sudden intensity. But as the dance goes on, it transforms into understanding, and then excitement that expresses itself like stars in his eyes. For three minutes, they weave an enchanted galaxy on the floor with their feet, sequins flying and sweat dripping down their faces until they press their cheeks together and raise their arms in triumph as the final note echoes across the room.  

An awed silence spreads across the room, until Clara gets up from her chair and starts whooping and spinning her bouquet in the air. Hunk immediately stands up after her and starts shouting as well. Together, their frenetic energy spreads across the room like wildfire, and soon the entire crowd is cheering for them in a standing ovation.

And as Lance holds his hand, beaming brightly, Keith feels illuminated from within. This — this is love.

The rest of the night, Keith doesn't get a moment to himself, as people keep coming up to him and telling him how wonderful the performance was. He tries to be gracious and talk to people, but Lance’s family is huge and ultimately, it becomes too much to keep up.

He needs an escape, and the moment he finds an opening in the rest of the ceremony, Keith makes a break for the entrance.

He takes a deep breath of the winter air as soon as he gets outside, thankful to finally have a moment alone, even if it is in the bitter cold. The stars gleam bright in the darkness, but as beautiful as they are, Keith pulls his phone out of his pocket, for it’s been a few hours since he’s checked it, and he knows that there are people who are very curious about the events of tonight.

Sure enough, there are a flurry of texts from Pidge asking whether he’s confessed to Lance yet — and threatening to tell Lance herself if he doesn’t do it tonight — and a missed call from Shiro, who must be curious about how the dance went.

Keith decides to call Shiro first, but just as he is about to press dial, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

He turns around to find Lance, wrapped in a blue scarf made of the same neon blue wool as his sweater over his formal suit.

“Hey,” he says with a little wave, flushing in the dark. “I thought I might find you out here.”

Keith smiles. “How many things do you have in that color?”

Lance laughs. “I promise this isn’t part of a set. It just happens to match my other stuff. It’s one of the gifts Clara gave out to the members of the wedding party. You know, since it’s a Christmas wedding and everything. A seasonal sort of gift.”

“Right,” says Keith. “Of course.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that you did really good in there. And I wanted to say thank you for agreeing to be my dance partner for the wedding. I know it was really last minute and everything, and you’re super busy, so I really appreciate it. I just...wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Keith shakes his head. “ We did a good job. And I wanted to do it. I — I really enjoyed it, dancing with you.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance asks, his voice soft, but unsure. “So did I.”

Despite the bitter cold, Keith feels warm at the simple compliment. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Um, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“I — I actually had something I wanted to tell you.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah...um...it’s about you, and me.” Lance looks down and waves his arms back and forth between them.

“Like, Us. As a unit.”

Keith grins. “Something tells me this isn’t exactly how you were imagining this conversation. But I think I know what you mean.”

“Really?” Lance responds, lifting his head, his eyes suddenly bright and hopeful.

“Yes. I can put you out of your misery right now, and you won’t have to say another word.”

“Oh — ”  Lance says, his smile faltering, until he sees Keith’s gentle smile.

“Lance. Do I really have to spell out how I feel about you?”

“I mean. You haven’t exactly been responding to my flirting over the past few weeks. And I wasn’t even being subtle!”

Keith looks down, flushing. “I’m just not used to that kind of attention. And I thought maybe it was just you being you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know — just, being super friendly.”

“Keith, I don’t put my head in the lap of people who I’m just ‘super friendly with’.”

“I know that now,” says Keith. “After I overheard you talking to Hunk earlier.”

“You...you heard my conversation? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say? It was right before we had to go on stage. And I thought I got my point across in the dance.”

“So that’s why you were so passionate,” muses Lance. “I was wondering what happened. I mean, not that I mind, it was nice, I just — ”

Keith snorts. “Hey, listen. Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Lance bursts into surprised, merry laughter, lighting up from head to toe.

“Kiss me,” he whispers, his breath tickling the tips of Keith’s ear as he leans close.

Keith turns to face him, brushing their noses together as a small smile dances on his lips.

“Okay,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around Lance’s shoulders.

Lance winds his arms around his waist, his hands resting at the small of his back as the neon blue fringes of his oversized scarf press against Keith’s chest, a soft caress that mirrors the warm look on his face.

And as their lips finally touch, it’s not fireworks that Keith sees in the darkness, but two beautiful snowflakes — intricate and bright as they glow in the night, falling softly to the ground.