Chapter Text
The speakeasy had the strangest name Keith had ever heard. Who would name an illegal alcohol club The Yellow Lion? It just didn’t make any sense. Keith shook his head as he ducked under the low doorway into the dark bar. It wasn’t his job to name the damn place, though he probably could have done better than ‘The Yellow Lion’.
He was just the delivery boy. He delivered everything from alcohol to a bullet in the head, depending on what Allura asked of him that day. What he would deliver to the owner of The Yellow Lion would remain to be seen.
Keith pushed the black fedora a little lower on his head, and pulled up the collar of his coat. It wasn’t that it was that cold in the bar, Keith just thought that it added a little to his mystique.
The Korean man smirked as he looked around the crowded room. Cigar smoke hung heavy in the air, clinging to his coat and skin. He spotted a couple of folks that he knew, underlings from some of gangs he had dealt with before. No one very important.
Allura’s gang was the strongest in New York, making Keith the most dangerous person there. As a member of The Paladin Gang, he held a lot of respect in places like this. A few guys who recognized him made a hasty retreat as he made his way through the room towards the bar. A small form was bustling around behind it, moving so quickly Keith could barely keep track. Keith pulled up and lowered himself onto one of the barstools. Finally, the figure paused in pouring glasses and just doing general bartender things, Keith didn’t know. His specialty was in the alcohol before it hit the bar, not after.
“What’ll ya have champ?” Asked the small individual, coming to rest in front of Keith.
“A meeting with your boss, little man,” Keith said, taking a guess at the person’s gender because he honestly had no idea.
“I’m not a man,” they said, “Not a girl, just Pidge.”
Keith nodded. Not unusual in his line of work, people just being themselves and not a gender. “Well I still need that meeting Pidge.”
Pidge pushed at their glasses. “Can I ask why?” They said impatiently, obviously itching to get back to their other customers.
Keith smiled blithely, “Just tell him its Allura’s delivery boy, would ya?” Pidge’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of Allura’s name, and nodded briskly as they turned to another, obviously less experienced bartender.
“Hold the fort, I’ll be back in a minute.” They said as they headed towards the back of the bar and disappeared through a doorway.
Keith leaned back in his seat, wishing he had asked for a drink before sending the small bartender running to the back. His eyes swept the speakeasy, bored with how familiar it all was. Keith sighed. After working this job for years, it all got a little old.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” came a voice from the small stage located at the back end of the dancefloor. “My name is Hunk, the humble proprietor of this little shack,” This was met with a few cheers. “Thanks for the love folks, but I know it’s not me you’re here to see. Please, put your hands together for the legendary Cuban beauty, El Leon Azul!”
This announcement was met with considerably more applause as Hunk stepped of the stage and one of the most beautiful people Keith had ever seen took his place in front of the microphone. True to his name, El Leon Azul was dressed completely in blue, down to the sparkly blue headband on his head, surrounded by silky looking waves.
The bar was especially quiet, waiting for the boy to start singing. Keith found himself almost breathless in anticipation to see how this beautiful man would sound.
El Leon Azul opened his mouth and started singing as the band joined in.
“You don’t own me,” he crooned, “I’m not just one of your little toys,”
Keith found he couldn’t take his eyes off El Leon as he continued his song, singing about being young and free. The man moved like his body was made of music, hips swaying and head tilting just right along with the song. Keith’s breath caught in his throat as El Leon’s eyes met his. Stunning blue framed by inky black lashes. The song never stopped, but Keith could have sworn his heart did.
Keith had no idea how long the song lasted, it could have been 2 minutes or 2 hours. The spell was finally broken when the little bartender returned. “Hey,” they barked, snapping Keith out of his reverie. “The boss will see you now.”
Keith cleared his throat, shaking his head in an attempt to get the Cuban beauty out of his mind. With a lingering glance at El Leon, Keith followed Pidge behind the bar and into the dingy hallway.
The red wallpaper was faded, and the carpet was worn, but there was a well-loved feel in the air, like someone had really put an effort into making the shabby place look a little more presentable.
At the end of the short hallway, Pidge opened a door and turned back to Keith. “In here,” they said, gesturing for Keith to enter.
Keith passed Pidge, nodding a small thanks, and surveyed the room. It was small, but again, well-loved. The same red wallpaper decorated the walls, along with old fashioned candle sconces and a few paintings. Red velvet furniture peppered the room, which would have made it look opulent if not for the faded quality of the fabric. A large desk dominated the room and was by far the nicest piece of furniture there. A good, solid walnut, Keith mused. A large man sat in a plush looking chair behind the imposing desk. His longish hair was pulled back from his face with a cloth band, and he held a lit cigar in one hand, though he did not appear to be interested in smoking it.
Keith stepped forward and sat in the velvet chair on the other side of the desk from the large man.
“Hunk, I presume,” Keith droned, adopting the bored but in control work façade he was famous for.
“Indeed” replied the man- Hunk. “And you are-“
“Keith,” he supplied. “I assume you know why I am here.”
“I have a few guesses, but why don’t you enlighten me,” Hunk leaned back in his chair, still not even looking at the cigar between his fingers.
“I represent a certain individual who would like to do business with you,” Keith also leaned back in his chair, though he didn’t look nearly as impressive doing it as Hunk did, he noted with annoyance. Blame it on the shabby chair he was seated on.
“Business?” Hunk raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else.
“Did I fucking stutter?” Keith snapped, then bit back a curse. Usually he was more unflappable than this, but something about this large man caught him off guard.
“No need to be rude,” Hunk smiled a little, “though it is nice to see the real you under that ‘too-cool-for-you’ persona you wear.”
Keith’s gaze sharpened. The man was more intelligent than Keith had originally given him credit for. Hunk sighed, and stubbed out the cigar still without taking a hit from it.
“Look,” he said, crossing his hands across his chest, “I’m not gonna say no to a business deal from the leader of the most feared gang in New York. What is Allura interested in?”
“Merely in expanding the business. You sell alcohol, and so do we. It seems we could benefit from each other.” Hunk nodded.
“Buying alcohol is getting riskier by the day. But how would buying from The Paladin’s benefit me?” Hunk asked, his eyes never leaving Keith’s face.
“Protection, naturally,” Keith said, “as well as some of the best tasting alcohol to come out of this damn prohibition, if I do say so myself.”
Hunk smiled, “Allura’s moonshine is one of the best I’ve tasted.”
Keith smiled wolfishly back. “So do we have a deal?” Hunk thought for a moment, then nodded.
“I believe we do,” He said, leaning over the desk to shake Keith’s hand, offering the boy a small smile. Keith returned it without thinking, then quickly squashed it with his signature frown.
“I’ll send someone tomorrow night with the first shipment,” He said, standing. Hunk stood as well and made a noise of confirmation.
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” he said.
“And you,” Keith stopped in front of the door, hand inches from the handle. “I have to know one thing first.” Hunk paused in the act of sitting back down.
“Anything for a new business partner,” he said cautiously. Keith turned back to him.
“Why the cigar?”
Hunk laughed, actually laughed, in front of one of New York’s most dangerous men. “I can’t stand the smell or the taste, but I’m told it makes me look more intimidating, what do you think?”
Keith smiled, he couldn’t help it. What a ridiculous reason. “I think it works quite well for you, Hunk.”
***
As Keith headed out from behind the bar, he spotted Pidge, who had resumed their dizzying motion behind the bar. They paused as Keith entered the club, nodding at him solemnly. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of you from now on,” they said, eyeing Keith, not without a bit of suspicion.
“I guess you will,” Keith tipped his hat at the bartender as he made his way through the crowded room. He was tired, it had been a long day. All he wanted to do was get home, put some music on and settle down with a nice book. He was almost to the door when it happened. He was so distracted with the thoughts of a lazy evening in that he didn’t see the person crossing in front of him.
The collision was pretty spectacular, as crashes go. Both of them ended up on the floor, legs tangled, the glass of alcohol that had been in the other person’s hand shattering on the ground.
“I am so sorry,” came a familiar voice in Keith’s ear. Keith looked up and found himself nose to nose with those spectacular blue eyes. “Are you okay?” El Leon Azul asked, attempting to untangle himself from under Keith.
“Oh, yes,” Keith found that he could, in fact, speak, and he quickly jumped into action, standing and helping El Leon up. The assistant bartender was already there, sweeping up the broken glass. With the crash over and done with, the club goers had stopped staring and resumed their activities.
Keith’s hand lingered on El Leon’s for a moment, reveling in the feel of silky brown skin against his. He was jolted back to reality when El Leon cleared his throat loudly. Keith dropped his hands, an uncharacteristic blush staining his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly, attempting to get whatever shred of dignity he could back. El Leon smiled at him, and in that moment, Keith didn’t care about dignity.
“Its okay, Mr.-“
“Keith, just Keith is okay,” he was stumbling over his words, looking like a prize idiot. What was wrong with him, he was usually much more smooth that this!
“Keith then,” El Leon’s smile never dimmed one bit. “I’m El Leon Azul, but my friends call me Lance.”
“Lance, that’s a pretty name,” Keith was captivated by this boy’s face, his body, his-
“Sorry, what?” Lance said, tilting his head in the most adorable fashion. “It’s kind of loud, could you say that again?”
For the millionth time that night, Keith jolted out of whatever dreamland Lance sent him to and came crashing back to reality. Like someone as beautiful as Lance would ever be anything but disgusted by a compliment from Keith. Keith was a gangster with a blood stained past and Lance was so beautiful and graceful. The only think Keith could do now was save a little face and then get out of there as fast as he could.
“Uh, I said that’s a shitty name, bye.” Keith half shouted as he pushed past Lance and rushed the door. Nice save Kogane, he thought, nice save.
***
Lance watched Keith’s back as he scurried for the door as if he had just been set on fire. A small frowned marred his face. It was entirely uncalled for to call his name shitty. Pity he was so rude, because he was the most handsome thing to walk into this damn bar since, Lance couldn’t remember. A long time, at any rate.
Still, a small part of him hoped the man would be back soon. Only so he could say that Keith was an even shittier name. At least, that’s what Lance tried to convince himself.
He wandered over to the bar, deftly avoiding grabby hands with the grace that comes from years of practice.
“So, who was that?” He said to Pidge as he leaned against the bar. He had been going for a casual vibe, but the look Pidge gave him said that he wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Keith Kogane, one of New York’s most feared gangsters, second in command of the Paladin Gang.” Pidge listed. “He’s a bad dude, you should stay away.”
“I wasn’t gonna do anything,” Lance protested. Again, Pidge gave him their patented ‘yeah-fucking-right’ stare.
“Sure you weren’t buddy,” Pidge drawled, wiping a glass with a dishtowel. “Like you didn’t do anything with the governor, or that one movie star who visited, or –“
“Ok, ok, I get it. So I have a terrible dating history.” Lance plopped his head onto his arms that were folded in front of him on the bar. “I just want a fairy-tail romance where my knight in shining armor rides up on his white horse and we dance into the sunset, eternally in love. Is that too much to ask for?”
Pidge snorted, “Yeah, I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” They said. “Now if you would please stop distracting me, some of us have actual work to do.”
“Yeah, yeah get to it,” Lance waved Pidge away, content to wallow in self-pity for a little while longer. His pity party didn’t last very long, though. There was a muffled grunt as someone took the barstool next to him. He didn’t look up at first, not caring until the scent hit his nose. He would recognize that cologne anywhere. He sat up so fast he almost fell off his stool.
“Sendak,” He said breathlessly, fear gripping his lungs in a vise, “w - what are you doing here?” Sendak turned one yellow eye on him. Lance’s body had gone cold.
“What am I here for?” Sendak said quietly, “You know why I’m here. Surely even you aren’t that stupid.”
“But, it’s too early, I still have four weeks,” Lance protested. Sendak huffed impatiently.
“Circumstances have changed. I’m moving the deadline up to three weeks.” He said.
“Three weeks! That’s too soon!” Lance protested, but his words choked off as a strong hand grabbed his arm and held tight enough to bruise.
“I think you’re forgetting who has the power here, slut.” Sendak hissed. “It’s me, in case that pea brain of yours still doesn’t get it. I decide what I want from you and when I get it. Not you. Comprende?”
Lance nodded shakily. “I understand, I’m sorry, sir.”
“Good,” Sendak flung Lance’s arm away and this time, he really did stumble off his stool. “Then we’re done here.”
Lance was happy for the dismissal as he took off in the other direction. He didn’t stop, not even when he heard Pidge calling. He ran straight to his room above the speakeasy and locked the door, shakily sinking to his knees.
Lance tried as hard as he could, but he couldn’t stop the tears that started trickling down his cheeks. Damn Sendak, he thought as he angrily scrubbed at the wetness on his face. Only he could get this kind of reaction out of Lance. It was pathetic. Lance clenched his hands against his knees. He could do this, he told himself. For his family, he could do anything.