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Day one
It was a normal Tuesday, within a normal hour. That's what Lance, or Mr. McClain to his students (the formalness was a requirement, according to Shiro), thought before he looked across the hall.
The wooden door was left ajar, showing the black metal desk that Mrs. Speil normally occupied. Today, on this normal Tuesday, within a normal hour, a young looking man with a jet black mullet sat in the uncomfortable teacher’s chair.
He looked distraught.
Lance noticed that the man’s hands we holding each other, and, if he were to look closer, he’d see the white knuckles. His forearms rest on the ugly, peanut colored wood surface, eyes glued to the ground in front of the heavy desk.
How many years of experience did this guy have?
None, Keith would reply. His eyes would look as dead and doomed as he felt. And the rumors? Oh, he heard the rumors.
Apparently, he got assigned to substitute the worst fucking class in the goddamn galaxy. Life is great, huh?
Keith looked up, at the wrong moment apparently, to find an almost boyish looking, sun kissed man smirking at him. The bell rang right as they made eye contact, and Keith was scrambling to get his papers in order.
First period. First period was okay, and Keith was thanking the gods he didn't really believe in.
The kids were probably just tired from waking up before Satan was even awake. But he was still thankful. Now just three more blocks. Everyday. For the rest of the week.
He'd 100% sacrifice himself if a shooter entered the school.
“Mr. Cocaine?” Well that wasn't his name, but Keith supposed it was close enough.
“Density equals mass divided by volume, right?” Keith gave a curt nod to the redheaded girl, her hair tied in a long braid.
“Yes…?” What did this have to do the quadratic formula?
“So if we got a graduated cylinder, a balance, and some scissors, we could find the density of your hair?”
“What the fuck, Claire.”
The class erupted with laughter, encouraging Claire to continue.
“Yeah! All we have to do is cut off your party in the back, set it on a balance, throw it in a graduated cylinder, and bam! We have the density of Mr. Cocaine’s magical mullet!” Before her substitute could cut her off with a firm ‘no’, she added, “It’s math, sir. It would be a great math project.”
Keith swore that 1st graders were much more tolerable than a 10th grade algebra class.
And, as if the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse, some strange(ly attractive) man entered his class, kids crowding around the door to watch.
“Well hellooo, Mrs. Speil’s class. How’s your day going?” Keith recognized the grinning teacher from across the hall once he snapped out of his silent rage. He tried to peer around the gathering teenage heads before spotting the plaque in front of the man’s door.
‘McClain’
Well, that was useful information, especially since the guy was about to ruin his (already barely existing) confidence.
Keith tuned back into what was happening around him, Mr. McClain making conversation with his students. Didn’t he have a class to teach?
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Freddy. Where’d you learn your multiplication skills? Eight times nine is seventy two, not sixty nine. One plus one, though, does give you sixty nine. Don’t get too excited just yet.” The dorky looking teacher threw a wink at the student he had been addressing before another was tugging on his shirttail.
The next five minutes continued like this until Keith cleared his throat, rocking back and forth on his heels. Lance just happened to noticed, turning around.
“Oh, hello. Are you the substitute for this wonderful class?” Lance wore a sly grin, inching closer to the shorter male.
Keith just snorted. Wonderful. Yeah.
But then Keith was reminded that he had no reason to catch the teacher’s attention, and he had no idea what to say now.
Thankfully, Lance continued on without an answer.
“How long are you here, mullethead? How thick is that thing anyway?” Keith flinched when a hand reached out to stroke it briefly.
“That’s what the class was about to try to figure out..” Keith murmured, shying away from Lance’s tan hand.
That earned an obnoxious laugh out of him, holding his stomach, head thrown back. The hairs on the top of his head bounced with everything chuckle, bangs pushed to the side.
Keith inwardly groaned, either out of new despise for this man-child, or adoration.
After the other settle, wiping away tears, breathing out, ‘hoo boy’s, he turned back to Keith.
“I’m Lance McClain, I teach Algebra riiight,” he spun on his heel to point past his own students crowding around Keith’s door. “There.”
A grunt of acknowledgment followed that, Keith's arms folded across his chest.
“Well,” he started, agitated that Lance interrupted (though honestly, he was quite grateful) his class, and that was apparent in his voice. “I suppose you should get back then, huh? You don't want your own wonderful class feeling neglected, Oh-So-Great Mr. McClain.”
The brunette only grinned ear to ear.
“You're adorable, did you know that? Quite feisty, too.” Fingers pinched Keith’s cheek, the other receiving a weak backhand slap to the instead of his forearm.
Chuckling once again, Lance took a step back, both hands in his blue jacket pockets. Keith just glared.
“Alright, alright. I'll leave you alone. For now, at least.” Before the ravenette could make a retort, Lance was gone, leading his own class in a march. The door shut behind him, but not before Lance winked at him.
Day Two
Lunch.
Lunch was when Keith finally saw the other algebra teacher on his second day.
Not like he was happy about it or anything! He wasn't happy at all, he promised himself. He was irate, actually. Livid.
He was sitting on a table in the teacher’s lounge, where Keith had gone to get a sandwich. He ran out of time this morning to make his own. He regretted it.
He regretted it, right?
On Lance’s lap sat a salad, cherry tomatoes and kale standing out in the dull room. He stood out in the dull room. Sun kissed skin, dorky laugh, ridiculous flirting, and all together, his bright aurora.
The only thing holding Keith back from looking taut (for reasons he refuses to admit) was the fact that Allura, the assistant principal, was not putting up with Lance’s flirtations. That provided comfort. Comfort he definitely didn't need for any ‘wrong’ feelings he had.
Keith was so close, so close, to escaping with his sandwich. Lance takes pride in showing up at the wrong moments and, most of all, annoy people. That's what Keith concluded to as he heard an obnoxiously familiar voice screech his name.
Assuming ‘mullethead’ was his name.
“Yes..?” He gritted out, turning in his heel slowly, angrily. Wipe that grin off your face, shithead.
“How ya doing, buddy? Your second day going okay?” Keith knew Lance honestly didn’t care about his day. Just wanted to annoy him.
“I’m just fine, Mr. McClain,” he murmured as calmly as he could. It wouldn't take long for Keith to blast out some punches, so he turned to leave again.
“Hey, it’s just Lance, ya know!” The cap of his poor water bottle was going to shoot straight off if Keith squeezed any harder. He kept walking (more like stomping) towards the classroom he was in charge of.
Why was this guy trying to be all ‘buddy-buddy’ with him Keith would never understand. He didn't want a friendship with anyone, anyway. Especially not from a school he was substituting for. Especially not with someone who was odd and funny and dorky and cute.
Keith didn't want to be Lance’s friend.
And Lance crushed any chances of them being even acquaintances.
Sixty seconds of Lance’s annoying voice pissing him off would never be nearly as bad as the fifteen seconds he opened his mouth in last block.
Lance decided to intrude in Keith’s class again.
It was an odd day of the week, which meant Lance’s last period was empty. He was allowed to leave, go home, do whatever and still get paid. He normally hung around, entertaining other teachers and their classes.
Or Keith’s case, annoy the teacher, entertain the class.
The brunette was standing in front of the whiteboard, talking about who knows what. After the wild gestures started up, Keith retreated back to his desk in fear of being smacked in the face.
Perched on the top of the metal, ankles crossed, he took a moment to really look over his class.
It sure was a diverse bunch. But what really caught his attention was the fact that they were all staring at Lance like he was some storytelling god. Like they were Jewish people in death camps and Lance was Captain America.
Keith would've liked to make a more historically accurate, maybe cooler analogy, but that was all that he had.
Shaking his head, hair dancing behind him, Keith pulled out his phone. It appeared that Mr. McClain had taken over Mr. Cocaine’s job, so he didn't need to pay attention.
"But Mr. McClain?" An olive-skinned, short boy spoke up, raising his hand until Lance's attention was on him.
"My aunt said that liking the same sex isn't right."
"Well, do you live with your aunt?"
"No..."
"Then why should it affect you, Marcus?"
"Because she's family.."
"That's right, but that's no reason to not be accepting of it yourself. Your parents support gay rights, correct?"
Keith lifted his head up from his phone, now curious in what the conversation was about.
"Er.. yes, I think so," Marcus nodded his head after, confirming that they did support it.
"There ya go then! See? At least you're not a gay orphan. That's where real trouble starts."
Black eyebrows pinched together at that sentence, phone quietly being set on the desk. Keith stared at the other teacher, grey eyes hard.
"The boys have it rougher, too. They always do, in and out of orphanages. You're instantly a target if someone suspects you're part of the LGBT community. Orphans? Most run away, live on the streets after that."
Keith couldn't recall when his feet hit the ground, but he knew when his fist hit skin.
Fire burned through him. Hate, anger, and the bittersweet taste of nostalgia. Except he didn't yearn to relive those damn memories. He wished to kill them, just like he wished to kill them idiot right in front of him.
He wouldn't, though. Keith knew he wouldn't. He had /some/ control over himself.
When Lance turned to look at Keith, his eyebrows were drawn together tightly in irritation and confusion, hand cupping his cheek. Right where the blow hit. A bruise was most likely already forming.
"Man, what the fuck!" He barked, hand moving from his face to run through his hair.
Keith didn't skip a beat. Didn't care that he had hit Lance.
"What the hell do you know about orphans, huh? You have no fucking right to say anything without knowing shit!" An accusing finger jabbed at Lance's Hot Wheels shirt. How old was he?
He didn't care how right or wrong the other was about orphanages, Keith was still pissed.
"No fucking right. Okay? Every foster house is different, every foster family, every foster child. None is alike in every single sense. You would know that if you knew your shit, monkey-face. If you lived in one, visited one for a day, talked to the kids. Knew the kids. Was the kid." Keith's voice dwindled the longer he spat out words.
His anger distinguished as he panted, trying to read Lance's expression. It was a mix of realization, chagrin, and guilt.
The pair stayed like that, even as the bell rang, gaping teenagers slowly leaving.
The last couple were dripping out of the door when Lance followed. "Have a good rest of your day, Mr. Kogane," he croaked in the doorway before turning out of sight. His stuff was in his classroom, but right now? He needed a walk.
Jello was the first thing that came to mind as Lance when walking out the door, down the hall.
The second word was Hell. He just created hell. He hoped Keith wouldn't stay much longer.
He hoped Keith would stay much longer.
‘Dammit Lance!’ he thought, fire pushing out of his feet with every stomp.
‘What the fuck were you thinking! First you think he’s cute and decide to annoy him, then you’re wondering if he’d go on a date with you but you decide to offend him!’
With a huff, Lance wrapped his arms around his torso and closed his eyes.
“Ah, fuck,” he mumbled, breathing normally now.
“Shit. Shit. I messed up big time.”
The burn in his legs, feet slapping the pavement, breathing harshly. It was all too familiar, and Keith couldn't decide if it was a comfort or a curse.
He was also running. He wished he could stop. He wanted to stop. He tried to stop.
He ran away from everything in his life. Just when he thought his life was stable, he still got screwed over.
Keith wasn't sure if the orphan comments had set him off, or the fact that it was Lance.
Lance.
What was it about him that made Keith not mind the odd jokes, the childish anticts, the constant toothy grins? He was ready to leave this school, to leave his stupid class, but he didn't want to leave Lance.
Fuck Lance. Fuck him and his odd jokes, childish antics, constant toothy grins, and cute face. Fuck all of that.
Jesus since when was Keith so.. he didn't even know what.
He had a crush on the most obnoxious man-boy in the entire universe and he didn't have the strength to care. And he was was grown man! Grown men don't have crushes!
Keith came to an abrupt stop, panting and falling into the grass on the inside of the track.
He would've liked to run through the woods, but he still had stuff in his classroom, and the school’s track was the closest option. He wasn't even sure how many laps he made before stopping. Enough to clear his mind.
Day three
The world felt surreal the moment Lance walked in the school. His body felt like it was working on its own, but he wasn't connected to it.
Keith’s door was shut tight, and he had no doubt that he had gotten there early to avoid Lance.
He didn't blame him. He had been an ass. An ignorant that should've never opened his mouth. Never should've met Keith.
Never should've felt his heart pick up speed when around him.
Lance made sure to shut his door quietly to not alert the other if his presence. After setting his bag down, he paced through his room, weaving between the desks.
Confrontation was a must. He just feared what Keith would say, how he’d even react to seeing Lance. He wasn't going to be able to do this. No way.
And that's when Lance found himself knocking on the door.
“What?” Keith’s voice was dripping with vexation, a sour expression on on his pale features. It was impressive at how door the swung open and how Keith immediately knew who was disturbing his peace. It was expected, though.
“I came to, uh-” the brunette realized how awkward he felt standing in the doorway.
“Can I come in?”
Keith scrunched his nose up in irritation and confusion.
“Okay..” he mumbled,an eyebrow raised as he stepped to the side. Once Lance was in and making himself comfortable (he wasn't comfortable at all), Keith let the door shut almost all of the way, sitting on a desk across from the other.
Seconds of silence passed and Keith grew impatient.
“Did you come to silently judge me? Think, ‘oh, he's just a bastard, orphan, son of a whore’? Maybe add immigrant on the list too.”
Lance's head popped up faster than lightning.
“You know Hamilton?”
Keith just scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“Of course, you dimwit.” Lance smiled a little at the new information about the other. Then he went back to staring at his lap, causing Keith to groan inwardly.
“I'm sorry,” Lance blurted out after a few long moments that seemed to stretch all the way to rainbow road.
“What I said was ignorant and rude and stupid and offensive. I never meant for it to be that way. I.. I don't have much of a filter. I say whatever my mind wants to. But that's no excuse. I'm really sorry. Really, really sorry. I'd like to take you out but I know I ruined my chances but I wanted you to know that you're cute.” Everything tumbled out of his mouth, but he only regretted 25 percent of it. His voice had been shaky, tripping over his own words, but it was all true.
Lance wasn't sure what he expected when he thought about how Keith would respond. But he knew one thing- he was definitely not expecting a blush to creep into his cheeks.
Keith sure did take him time responding. He slid back on the desk a bit, putting more distance between them.
“You're right. Those things are true..” he paused, chewing his lip before adding, “almost all of them.” He mumbled the last part under his breath, hoping Lance didn't hear him, yet needing him to hear him.
“...Huh?” Yep. He had heard him.
Keith sighed, glancing off to the side, tucking his hair behind his head.
“I'll go on a date with you.” He really wanted to.
Lance immediately perked up at that, wondering if he heard him correctly.
“A.. a date? You'll go on a date with me?”
Keith snapped his head back around to face Lance, nose scrunched up.
“That's what you wanted, isn't it? To go on a date with me? Better agree before I change my mind.” He wouldn't.
Lance took a minute to process everything wow was this really happening?
Once the words settled in Lance, a wide grin broke out on his face. Pearly whites and laugh lines in all their glory.
“Yes! Yes.. okay, um..”
“Tonight,” Keith interjected. “Do you want to go to Noodles and Company? I haven't been there in a while, but it's a favorite of mine.”
Lance didn't bother to hide his enthusiasm. He went ahead and nodded quickly. His excitement radiated off of him like a puppy when the doorbell rings. Keith found it endearing.
“That sounds perfect. Do you, uh.. should I pick you up or would you prefer to meet me there?”
“Meet you there,” was Keith’s quick response. He didn't feel comfortable enough to be picked up.
The other’s smile didn't falter one bit. Instead, it stretched even wider on his tan skin.
“Alright. I'll see you at 7?” Six was too early. Who had dinner dates at six? Unless there was more to come.. like a movie!
Keith’s nod was shy, his head tucked down. He wouldn't let Lance see his smile.
“See you then.”
Day four
There were no movements in the entire room, no sounds creeping through.
Everybody held their breath, wide eyes never leaving either Keith or Lance’s body.
Why were they both in the same room? Why was Lance just waltzing it like it was normal? Were fists going to be thrown again? Who'd win? When should bets be made?
No, no. The bets had already been made.
But would they be if any use?
Time seemed to slow down as Lance walked in, Keith seeming to have been waiting for him. It took too long for the class to realize that it indeed was not hard hatred in the teachers’ eyes. Rather, it was fondness, and damn! There was a hint of a smile on Keith’s face. That was possible?!
“I thought that.. maybe you'd want this?” Lance held a slip of paper ripped from a bigger piece.
Keith took it from him, tilting his head to read it. I'm Lance’s slanted handwriting was a series of digits, ones that made him smile just a tad bit more.
“We had a bonding moment, after all.”
The class was dead silent moments after Lance bent down to kiss the raven’s cheek. Then they were rioting. And Keith didn't care. His chest was too warm and fuzzy rather than filled with hot hatred.
Maybe he’d have to take over Mrs. Speil’s class.