Archive of Our Own

“Yeah, yeah, rice is good. No, chicken fried rice. Wait, scratch that, beef. Hang on.”

Lance cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder, reaching for the doorknob and sticking his head into the communal kitchen. “Hunk! Was it beef that was your favourite, or chicken?”

“Beef, but I’m in a chicken sorta mood today. Can you get me some seafood pancakes too if they do those? Or actually maybe dumplings? I should have had a closer look at the options, it’s such a difficult call because chicken says I’m ready to seize the evening but beef is red meat so it’s a productive choice but can also lead to food comas-”

Lance shut the door, though Hunk’s protests were still vaguely audible through the wood. Putting the phone back to his ear, he took the takeaway leaflet off the desk again and eyed the options, flipping it over to see what noodles they had on offer.

Do I feel like noodles? We should probably sort through our takeaway drawer; I don’t even remember where half these places are. The page for prices is missing too, hope it’s not too expensive. Are noodles usually cheaper than fried rice? Forget it, I’ll just get the same as Hunk.

A cough sounded from the other end of the phone and Lance jumped. Oh yeah.

“Sorry about that! Where were we?”

“I still don’t have anything written down for you.” Lance could hear the guy’s irritation through the phone, and felt himself bristle.

“Well well, someone’s testy! Spring has sprung, lighten up buddy.”

“It’s January, you managed to call 5 minutes before the end of my 8-hour shift, and I should have been home half an hour ago. Order something.”

“It’s a new year! And you have got an attitude problem. To quote my father-” Lance sang this part, gesturing dramatically as though the guy could see him, “-Learn to love your workplace, and it will love you back.”

“Cute sentiment. Are you ready to order now?”

Lance knew he was being a jerk, but something about this guy just made him want to keep prodding. He tugged over a swivel chair and collapsed onto it, propping his feet up on the bed with a sigh.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Is your service going to improve?”

“For fuck’s sake...” The guy muttered it under his breath, but it was just loud enough for Lance to hear anyway. He could all but see the guy eyeing the clock, could virtually hear him tapping his phone to check the time as it got closer to 10. Lance smirked.

“I’ll take that as a no. Luckily for you, I’m a waiter myself and friendly enough for the both of us.”

The voice made something between a scoff and a dry chuckle. “Who would want to tip you? They’d die of old age before you could get their order sent out.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent waiter, better than you anyway!”

“I’m not a waiter. We’re just a takeaway, not a restaurant, which it says on the leaflet if you’d bother to pick it up.”

“Ha, think again Mr. Takeaway, it’s in my hand as we speak.” Lance flapped the brochure next to the handset. “S’not my fault that most of it’s in Korean.”

There was a loaded silence on the other end, and Lance faltered. Fuck. Hunk would kill him if he didn’t sort out some food soon.

“Uh… hello? Mr. Takeaway?”

“So you mean to tell me.”

Lance swallowed. Takeout guy couldn’t be any older than him, so why was his harsh voice sending a shiver down his spine?

“…that you’ve been holding the leaflet this whole time, probably with choices circled? When you know that I’m here overtime?” He was noticeably tired; and Lance almost felt bad. Hell, his own eyes were feeling tight and he hadn’t even been working today.

“Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a jerk. But you’re offering a service here my man, ordering takeout is a sacred ritual. I’ve never even tried ‘Goo Man Doo’ before-”

“Goon mandu.”

“-Whatever, sounds gross, but that’s exactly why you’re here! To give advice to the customer!”

“Maybe I’ll just send you some tear-inducing kimchi. With any luck the spice will kill your voice as well as your taste-buds.”

“You know… you have kind of a nice voice, even when you’re sneering at me. Have you ever considered working in the phone sex industry?”

The receiver clicked, and Lance sputtered indignantly. He hung up on me! The nerve of this guy, whatever happened to ‘the customer’s always right’?

When Lance eventually slinked back into the kitchen, turning over the handset in his hands with a sheepish grin on his face, Hunk groaned.

“Uargh, Lance! Seriously? Couldn’t you have picked a fight with the delivery guy on a day we weren’t revising for class tests? Everyone knows that brain food is essential to student survival and grades; it’s virtually scientifically proven.”

“Sorry Hunk, though I doubt that guy delivers. Too much road rage - local animal shelters would riot at all the stray dogs he’d kill.”

Lance chuckled at his joke, but Hunk only frowned.

“I can’t steal from the group fridge again dude! Our neighbors never leave their room but I get a bad vibe from that end of the corridor, they’ll probably cast some witchy voodoo on me.”

“Relax, Hunk. I’ve got the pizza place on speed-dial.”

 ❂  ❂  ❂

It’s not like Lance hated his degree, or picked it because physics was the only subject he was decent at in school. Space had always interested him, and despite having a large family his mother had always encouraged each of her children to pursue their dreams – however far-fetched it had seemed at first looking at Lance’s math grades.

There was something so comforting about the infinite possibilities of space, the idea that the universe wasn’t just humanity and all its shit. Lance had grown up by the beach, and he had fond memories of going down to the shore at twilight once the touristy rabble had calmed.

Sometimes it would just be him and the ocean, endless and still, and he’d find himself wondering how far he’d have to swim to reach land, what kind of people he’d meet in Europe, or Africa. When night fell he’d lie on a towel and gaze upwards, or maybe he’d grab one of his siblings and they’d climb up onto the roof of their house for a better look.

His brothers and sisters would focus entirely on the pretty stars; they’d mimic comets streaking across the sky with their hands like children with glittery pens. Lance would stare into the blackness instead, and wonder how far he’d have to go until the Earth would blink out of view.

Lance wanted to be an astronaut. He needed to be out there, himself, get away from religiously checking the NASA video feeds. There were only so many space-walks he could watch until he went crazy, the longing to explore himself settling like an itch under his skin with every passing day.

So here he was, studying exoplanets and planetary transits on a Thursday morning. Lance knew that he was somewhere in the middle of the spectrum here, between the outright alien conspiracy-theorists and those who stuck firmly to the textbook.

He’d never measure up to Pidge, and he was fine with that. They were already scribbling annotations and extensions on the handout, despite the fact that it had only been five minutes and the lecture hadn’t even started yet.

Lance knew that to be an astronaut meant nailing these theories, but that didn’t make staying awake during class any easier. He sighed, propping up his cheek on one fist and rearranging his pencils on the fold-out theatre desk. It was the start of the year and he was drained already, but last semester had been a bust so he’d have to make up the module credits in this class somehow.

His darkening thoughts were interrupted by a boy throwing open one of the lower doors and doubling over, bracing his arms on his knees as he panted and calmed down.

The guy probably thought he was late; little did he know that most lecturers in the astronomy department didn’t even consider showing up before their morning coffee, usually 5 or 10 minutes past the scheduled time. Lance knew this because he often ran into them, being something of a caffeine junky himself.

This new guy seemed to have been getting a lot of beauty sleep, judging by the reactions of the girls in the front row. It was only when he stood up and looked around that Lance realized he had a mullet which instantly took him down a few points.

Lance hadn’t been on a date in weeks and now he had competition from a guy with a mullet? He was well dressed in a deep red scarf and a black leather jacket, but still. Ridiculous.

Mullet must have sensed Lance’s eyes boring into his head because he looked up then, scanning the theatre for a seat. Eventually he settled for just sitting at the front, and Lance reckoned that the blonde on his left was dangerously close to fainting when he asked her for a hand-out.

“Lance, if you keep glaring like that you’ll get premature frown-lines.”

Lance relaxed his features immediately, he wasn’t about to get wrinkles because of this guy. Before he could bitch to Pidge about the horror of 80s hairstyles Professor Coran walked in, leafing through his notes and almost tripping over the stage on his way up to the podium.

“Ah, here we are!” He held up a page triumphantly, before promptly folding it into a paper plane and tossing it into the audience. It landed unceremoniously a few feet away, by the new guy’s feet, but Mullet just stared at it and made no move to pick it up.

“Today’s topic – Black holes! Which means, escape velocity. What velocity would a vehicle need to leave a black hole, I wonder?”

Lance couldn’t really hear much outside the mic from this distance, which usually wasn’t a problem. Unfortunately for him, the new guy seemed to have taken this lecture as an opportunity to test out some new theories. Throughout the class he’d pitch in and Coran would lap it up like he was worthy of a Nobel prize, the front few rows twitching their hands as if they wanted to clap.

Here he was, failing, and this guy didn’t even have to try. To add insult to injury, it didn’t look like Mullet was bothering to take notes.

It irritated Lance to death. His only consolation was that Pidge seemed pissed too, but he had a feeling that was more because they couldn’t hear the details of these stellar new equations being thrown out.

By the end of the class Lance was ready to kill, shoving his sparse notes into his bag sulkily as Pidge rushed down the stairs to ask Coran for details. Trudging down behind them to wait, he was surprised to see that Mullet was still there and taking his sweet time packing up.

He obviously wasn’t in a hurry to be anywhere, so Lance took a moment to consider him. From this distance he could see what had gotten all the girls into such a state. Dark eyebrows and a chiseled jawline meant that his mullet really didn’t matter at all, as much as Lance hated to admit it, and suddenly he could appreciate how the guy had managed to win over virtually the entire lecture theatre in less than 50 minutes.

His scrutiny was purely objective, of course. Lance was a scientist.

At that thought Mullet turned around, and Lance felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the weird expression he was giving him. He guessed he’d been watching too long, but wouldn’t let himself back down. The guy stared back for a few more seconds before looking away abruptly, finally leaving the room.

What was that about?

Pidge leaned over then and Lance jumped, he hadn’t realized they’d come back already.

“Lance, you’ve gone pink. Got a little crush on the new guy?”

“No.” Lance coughed and Pidge raised an eyebrow, they’d been joking but his reaction wasn’t helping his case. “Let’s just go, you’ve held us up long enough and there’s a pre-shift chicken wrap calling my name.”

 ❂  ❂  ❂

7pm on a Friday night - prime time for predrinks with friends - and yet here Lance was, skulking around town to avoid going back to his dorm-room. He loved Hunk, but facing all those post-it notes and deathly memories of studying for a class test he probably just failed was too much.

It was a nice time of day to be here, anyway, as the daytime street vendors packed away their wares and gave way to food stalls. Under the dim glow of the street lamps he could see restaurants filling up, couples laughing over beers under awnings, groups of teenagers perched on stools fighting over pizza.

The sights and smells were almost too much; Lance didn’t know where to direct his attention. He wasn’t unused to markets back home, but he’d never get tired of the bright colours and easy feeling of just being one of the crowd as people went about their daily business. The smell of barbeque duck was thick and tasty, and an elderly lady lifted her tray of dumplings out towards him as he passed, nodding towards it for emphasis. Lance smiled kindly and shook his head, moving on.

Turning down a side-street he reached a row of Asian fusion restaurants, decorated with an array of bold neon signs and photos advertising the dishes on offer. As Lance went deeper into the heart of the district places became more specified, and his mouth watered at one dedicated to Vietnamese.

Pho was just what he needed after a day of crippling doubts and bad grades, and Lance had sworn to treat himself. He reached for his wallet, flipping it open and inspecting the damage. Before he could make good on his promise, a loud shout sounded from his right, and Lance startled.

Where he stood halfway down the street, Lance could see the last few eateries start to taper off under the rows of flickery lights. Outside the last one he could see two figures, one shrinking away slightly as the other gestured wildly, raising their arms.

Slowly replacing his wallet in his back pocket, Lance started walking briskly down the street, breaking into a slight jog as the situation became clearer.

It was Mullet, of all people, wiping his hands on his apron as a short stocky man (his boss?) reprimanded him. It didn’t look like there were any customers around, so the older guy didn’t seem to be holding back, spitting out criticisms in quick-fire Korean.

Lance had no hope of understanding what they were saying, but with the way Mullet was yelling back it didn’t take a genius to see that he was about to get fired.

Lance had worked for three years in customer service and knew all too well the dangers of talking back to a boss. He’d come close to death even just at home when he’d dared to speak out against his grandmother’s authoritarian cleaning regime, so Lance was no stranger to skirting the line.

Mullet was not toeing this line but rather trampling it, their voices growing so close in volume and pitch that he could hardly distinguish who was talking. If Keith didn’t attack his boss first the man would surely go into cardiac arrest, judging by the veins on his forehead. Before Lance had the chance to reconsider he stepped in, placing a hand between them.

He could feel Mullet gaping at him in shock, a great image, but instead Lance directed his attention towards the older man.

“What’s going on here?”

“Keith, do you know him?” The boss didn’t address Lance, instead turning to his employee, Keith? What a name.

Keith opened his mouth, probably to deny it (honestly, Lance would have done the same), but before he could speak Lance intervened again.

“Yeah, Keith is well known at my university. He’s very prompt and good with customers, that’s why lots of people go to –“ Lance tilted his head subtly around Keith to get a better look at the sign, “- ‘Tohbang’ for their late night meals.”

Keith’s boss didn’t seem convinced, so Lance continued, throwing an arm around Keith for dramatic effect and feeling him tense. “It’s true. A lot of us wouldn’t even know about Korean food otherwise but Keith is always talking about it in class. We’re both astronomy students which means long periods of study in the evening, he swears by your noodles to get through it.”

Keith’s boss nodded solemnly, “Yes, our food is very good for improving brain-power. If people would stop putting the local pizza place on speed-dial then they’d see our food is much better, and cheap too.”

Lance laughed woodenly, probably shouldn’t mention I’m one of those people, and felt Keith loosen up a little beside him.

“Okay. I’m letting you off the hook. But you’ll be right back here at noon tomorrow, understand?”

“Yes sir, thanks.” Keith had been fuming earlier but now he just seemed mildly relieved. Lance couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done at work to prompt such a beating.

The boss sighed, before retreating back into his restaurant, rubbing his temples tiredly.

“Phew, tough luck buddy! Are you okay? Name’s Lance, by the way.”

“I’m fine.” Keith brushed him off, unfastening his apron and going back into the restaurant to get his stuff.

When he came back out Lance was still there, eyebrows furrowed and a hand on his hip.

“Are you sure? Because you didn’t look fine, and your boss just went three shades of red. Seriously, what did you do to piss him off so much? He was borderline purple.”

Keith ignored him, shrugging on his leather jacket and rolling his eyes. “I said I’m fine, you can go now.” Keith’s unimpressed look only riled Lance up more, his tone growing stiff.

“Look, I’m just trying to help. Aren’t you going to say thanks?”

“Thanks for what?”

Lance threw his hands in the air at that, getting up into the other man’s space. “He was totally going to fire you!”

“He was not going to ‘fire me’. I had it under control.”

“Righttt.”

Keith dropped his bag, shoving his face closer like Lance had and glaring. “What is your problem? You want me to get on my knees and kiss your feet? I’m not going to, so just get over it.”

Lance was fuming now, the nerve of this guy? I was only trying to help, which is clearly needed if he’s opting for a mullet. His attitude might even be worse than…

Lance backed off, groaning in despair.

“It’s you. You’re that jerk on the phone! This is that Korean ‘not-a-restaurant’ takeout place, and your customer service is clearly still shit.”

Keith’s eyes widened slightly at that. “And you’re the guy who can’t get through a simple food order without being a total asshole. You can’t seriously expect me to thank you now.”

Lance was already turning to go, shaking his head.

“Fine, you don’t need my help. Have fun getting fired.”

It’s not like I care what Mull- Keith thinks. I’ll just go back to hating him in class, but with added incentive.

Keith seemed to have other ideas, though, because Lance had only made it 10 feet before he felt a strong grip on his shoulder.

“Hey… wait! Lance, was it?”

“Congratulations.”

“Look, uh…” Keith had the decency to look guilty, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his eyes. “Sorry for blowing up like that.”

Lance merely sniffed, turning up his nose and crossing his arms. Keith’s eyebrow twitched in irritation, but he pressed on.

“Since you helped me, how about I do something for you. Then we’re even.”

“Okay… I’m listening.”

“I’m not in a good place with my boss so I can’t offer you free food, but we’re in the same astronomy class, right?”

Lance turned around fully, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, we are. So? I actually turn up on time to lectures, so I don’t need your ‘perfect’ notes.” Keith seemed a bit shocked that he had noticed his late arrival, and there was a brief pause. Lance looked away.

“…I wasn’t talking about notes. Look, I know that you’re failing.”

“I am not failing.”

“I overheard your friend talking to Professor Coran at the front, she wrote out extra details to give to you because of your grades.”

Lance blushed violently in embarrassment, floundering for an excuse before eventually grumbling under his breath, “I guess that gross mullet of yours doesn’t affect your hearing.”

“My hearing’s just fine. The point is, how about I talk you through a few concepts? We could go over x-ray astrophysics, quasars, anything you’re finding difficult, and I have textbooks I can lend you at home.”

Keith obviously expected Lance to reject him, and he opened his mouth to do just that, before pursing his lips, reconsidering. The proud side of him wanted to tell Keith where he could stick his quasars, but the offer seemed sincere, and maybe stupid to pass up. Pidge would have been jumping at the chance to study with young Einstein here, and at this stage Lance needed all the help he could get.

Lance scrutinized him for a few more moments, and Keith shifted awkwardly under his gaze. He felt himself relenting. “Okay… sure. But I have to get home first to pick up my stuff, and if you turn out to be an axe murderer I’m getting way out of there.”

Keith let out a breath, and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

“Well, that goes without saying. Come on.”

Keith disappeared around the back, beckoning for Lance to follow. He did, and watched as Keith took one of two company motorbikes stacked against each other, chucking him the helmet. Frankly it looked worse for wear, red paint peeling in places and the front basket rattling as Keith positioned himself on the seat expectantly.

“No way, uh uh. I am not helping you steal a bike.”

“Relax, Lance. I do this all the time, it’s fine. They never lock these things up.”

Lance was still unsure, but placed the helmet on his head anyway, tightening the strap of the bag across his chest. “If you say so.” Just as Lance swung a leg over the seat, Keith revved the engine, laughing lowly when Lance jolted behind him.

“You’ve never ridden a motorbike before, have you?”

“Of course I have! Loads of times, I was the resident bad boy back in high school.” Lance’s lie fell flat even to his own ears. Keith swiveled around in his seat to shoot Lance a dry look, but was met with a defiant glare.

Shaking his head, Keith turned back to the front, gripping the handlebars tighter. “Okay, ‘if you say so’ Lance. Grab on.”

“I’m not going to-”

Lance was cut off as Keith sped down the alleyway, clinging to his waist on reflex and yelling out something about Keith trying to get them both killed.

How did I end up as the schoolgirl in a clichéd romantic comedy? This guy is crazy, should have guessed it from the hair.

“Lance!” Keith yelled over the noise, the takeout bike swerving left and right as his bag perched precariously on the front basket. “Where do you live?”

“Couldn’t we have had this conversation five minutes ago? Before I was on the verge of death?”

The bike skidded over a curb and Lance gripped tighter, trying not to focus on the fact that he was now pressed against his mortal enemy.

“It’s not far from here, take two rights and a left!”

“This coming right?”

“Yeah!”

Keith swerved to the right harshly and Lance yelped, closing his eyes. Leave it to Keith to do something like that when Lance was already terrified – he could virtually feel the guy’s smirk.

Clenching Keith’s jacket harder, Lance tried not to smile.

❂  ❂  ❂

After Lance had picked up his stuff, offering some vague excuse about studying at the library to Hunk, the situation somehow got even weirder.

With two bags now perched unsteadily on the front basket, Keith insisted that Lance had to move closer - something about the balance of the bike. So now Lance had his head virtually resting on Keith’s shoulder, arms once again wrapped tightly around his waist.

Added to this, Keith was driving slower, so there was less of a racket to drown out Lance’s embarrassing noises whenever they hit a speed-bump.

Lance’s life sucked sometimes.

It was around the second or third street when Lance realized that he’d seen these places before, the familiar lights of his own borough thinning out until they were back by the food stalls he’d noticed earlier in the evening.

Elderly dumpling lady chose that moment to wave at Lance, indicating to him and Keith and doing some kind of lewd motion with her empty tray.

Oh my god...

Lance groaned, turning to hide his face in Keith’s back. If Keith noticed the woman, he didn’t say anything, though Lance thought he might have felt a laugh through the leather of his jacket.

When they turned down the Tohbang side-road, Lance really started to get suspicious.

I was joking about the axe-murderer thing, but he didn’t deny it…? Maybe we’re just ditching the bike and then we’re going to walk to his place? In the dark... when we barely know each other…

Rounding the corner, they weren’t even able to pull in behind the building before Keith’s boss was on his case, lifting their bags out of the basket and shaking his head dynamically.

Second time today, good going Keith.

“No, no. You can’t stay. I can’t let you off the hook this time, no.”

“Come on sir, please let me off this one time! It was an emergency!”

Lance felt his chest skip, but tried not to dwell on it. Time with me is an emergency? Jumping in, he hunched his shoulders and let his lip start to quiver.

“Keith’s right! My grandmother is very ill.” Lance lowered his tone, willing tears to his eyes as he continued the ‘tragic tale’.

“She was a heavy smoker, and a binge drinker. She probably dabbled in drugs on the side, we can’t be sure. Addictive personalities run in my family, all five of her sisters died in similar circumstances, it’s a terrible curse really. She’s at the hospital now, but we don’t know how much longer it will be until she… you know...” Lance motioned across his neck with a finger, choking out an ‘ack’ noise until Keith elbowed him in the ribcage.

“What he means to say is that it won’t happen again.”

Keith’s boss frowned, but didn’t back down. “That may be so, but I still want you to pack your things and be out by next month.”

Pack his things? Are hours that long even legal?

“How about if I work overtime on Saturday and Sunday for a fortnight?”

Keith’s boss made a humming noise, rubbing his chin.

“And…” Keith winced, shutting his eyes. “…I could clean the employee bathroom while I’m at it?”

“Done.”

“Thank you, sir.” Keith took Lance’s hand, picking up their bags and dragging him quickly up the fire escape stairs that wound around the restaurant. It was a high-rise building, maybe 7 or 8 stories, and Keith’s place was right at the very top. Typical.

Lance could hear everything from domestic disputes to running showers in the various flats they passed, an interesting contrast to the steady backdrop of cars on the street below. Ducking under hanging rows of laundry as they climbed higher, the pair eventually reached a side door that took them into the building itself.

Another flight of stairs and they were there, Keith kicking the door open when the lock was too stiff and dumping his own stuff to the side. Lance stepped in, allowing himself a second to marvel at the state of the place.

It was barren, with the kitchen and mattress only divided from the rest of the room by thin metal dividers, and tall neon lamps doing nothing to hide the peeling paint of the walls. Various books and records were piled neatly in assorted corners of the room, but Keith’s relative lack of belongings meant that what really drew Lance’s attention were the flat’s two defining features.

The first was its tall windows, which offered an impressive view of the city beyond - huge skyscrapers with their various gaudy company logos and winding alleyways beneath. Lance squinted, following the trails of lights marking out the bridge to try and pinpoint his dorm in the darkness.

When Lance turned, quietly taking back his bag, his eyes were drawn past Keith to the huge mural plastering the ribbed metal behind. It was of some vintage martial arts movie, and when Keith shut the front door Lance recognized it as being one that Hunk had pestered him to try out with subtitles.

It couldn’t have been more different to Lance’s own room, crammed with family memorabilia and Star Wars posters. Speaking of space, Keith seemed to have dedicated one of his windows to just that, with a wide beanbag and stacks of books situated in front of it. Between the two was an impressive looking telescope, probably the most expensive thing in this place.

Lance didn’t really know the guy, but Keith’s apartment struck Lance as fitting his personality completely. As Keith disappeared into the kitchen, sorting through a pile of magazines to find a slim notebook, Lance considered whether it was lonely for him, living up here.

Where the fuck did that come from? Lonely? He has his ego to keep him company, dumbass.

“C’mon, grab your stuff.”

Following Keith around a corner, Lance was overjoyed to find yet another steel staircase - this time leading up to a hatch in the ceiling. His annoyance melted away when he climbed up out onto the roof, and was met by a flawless starry sky and more notebooks scattered over a blanket.

“Sorry if it’s a bit cold, I don’t really feel it much and I didn’t expect to have a visitor.”

“No it’s… fine.” Lance’s voice was faraway as he settled onto his knees, staring up above him at the clearest view of the sky he’d seen in this over-polluted city.

Keith was quiet for a moment before joining him, leaning back onto his hands and shaking the bangs out of his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s really something. For my budget there isn’t much I can afford in the city, so this was my best bet.”

Lance turned to Keith then, suddenly irritated by his impulsiveness. He and Hunk regularly broke onto the student accommodation roof when the wardens weren’t around, just to get a view of the sky that wasn’t anywhere near as good as this, and Keith was willing to risk it all, for what? A few textbooks?

“You could have lost this place, to drive me around. Which, by the way, was a terrifying experience! I bet that’s the reason you almost got fired earlier, too.”

Keith made no effort to deny it.

“So, let me get this straight.” Lance shook his head, hardly believing there was someone out there who made worse decisions than him.

“You stole a bike from your landlord, who is also your boss, even though he works right underneath your flat? Then you did it again, for me, and that’s why you’re one burnt noodle away from being fired?”

“Among other things.”

“You’re impossible, it’s no wonder you’re stuck cleaning some manky toilet.”

“It’s not that bad. He’d never actually kick me out, this place is dirt cheap and he’d struggle to find another tenant who works the hours I do. No one else wants to live in a seedy district with people like you partying right outside, especially with the smell of rotisserie chicken wafting upstairs 24/7.”

“Firstly, 24/7 eau-de-meat doesn’t sound awful. Secondly, I’ll have you know that my parties are nowhere near this district.”

If Keith rolled his eyes again Lance was sure they’d fall out of his head, so he asked something else that had been nagging at him.

“Uh... if you don’t mind me asking… why didn’t you take out a maintenance loan? If you did, you could be away from the gross chicken odor and ‘people like me’ partying outside.”

“You probably smell pretty similar.”

“Shut up, Keith.”

Keith grinned wryly at Lance’s attempt to mask the question in humour, rubbing the frayed edges of the blanket with his fingertips.

“I didn’t want to take out any other loans aside from tuition. If anything went wrong, I don’t exactly have anyone I can go to for financial help, but I need this degree more than anything.”

“Oh… that makes sense. I’m sorry for asking.”

“S’okay.”

There was a comfortable silence, both of them turning back to the stars overhead. They sat like that for a while, neither moving to pick up the textbooks. Surprisingly, Keith was the next person to speak up.

“So, what about you?”

“Me? Oh, yeah. I actually share a room, with Hunk, we’re really close.”

“Ah… sounds nice. Are you two...?”

“What? No! God, no. We’re best friends.”

The unspoken question lingered in the air, but much like in other areas of his life, Lance was too afraid to address it. Instead, he felt himself start to ramble.

“It was a bit touch and go at the beginning, I was pretty disorganized around that time.”

Lance sighed at the memory, truthfully he’d been a complete state. Trying to find affordable accommodation during a housing crisis was difficult at the best of times, and for every good place that came up, another group of better organized students got there first. Eventually the guy Lance was supposed to live with bailed to go back into student housing, and Lance decided to do the same.

The trouble was that even finding the paperwork for that had been a struggle, as his first year documents were buried under his bed amongst a frankly terrifying number of empty pot noodles. By the time he’d found the stuff he needed the accommodation officer had told him that he’d have to room with a stranger, who luckily turned out to be Hunk.

Honestly? If Hunk hadn’t been his roommate, Lance wasn’t sure what might have happened to him.

“I, uh… I lost my father 7 months ago. We didn’t get along very well, he was the head of a big family, and more mouths to feed means longer hours at work. Still a bit of a shock, though.”

Lance scratched his arm, sneaking a quick look at Keith. He’d fallen silent, but wasn’t backing away in discomfort, which was a good sign. It wasn’t unusual for people to change the subject, to force a laugh, when Lance told them why him and his father hadn’t gotten along.

He considered elaborating further, but he didn’t want Keith to take that particular detail the wrong way.

(A small voice in his head wondered if that would be so bad.)

“Anyway, so now I work with Hunk at Walmart to make up the deficit from my student loan.”

“I thought you were a waiter?”

“I am, but that’s just a side job I work two or three evenings a week. It’s not ideal, but Hunk makes the daytime stuff way more bearable.”

Lance’s face lit up at the memory of their last shift, snickering lightly to himself. “He’s got so many crazy ideas; I don’t know why he’s studying at all. The guy’s a genius, but creating things is his passion.”

Lance leaned into Keith conspiratorially, as if he was breaking Hunk’s trust.

“Never tell him I told you this, but I know he’d rather inspire others about space than go up there himself. He’s been telling me stories about these insane dreams he’s been having - giant metal lions that form this ultimate spaceship called ‘Voltron’.

Last week, I got back from work late and found him asleep on a bunch of sketches, he used to make the most awesome comics but I hadn’t seen him do any since we were kids.”

Lance sighed, shifting his whole weight so that he was lying on the blanket.

“I know we’re starving students, but it’s so awful that he’s having to do this in the dead of night. They’re really good, if I could encourage him to try I think he’d get them picked up in a heartbeat.”

“Well, he’d have a paying customer in me. I love comics.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

Keith changed positions, and Lance definitely wasn’t hyper-aware of the fact that they were now lying next to each other like old friends.

“So, Walmart.” Lance could hear the teasing lilt in Keith’s voice and his hackles raised, screw bonding moments. “I bet blue suits you.”

“Whatever, Keith. I’m still better at serving customers than you with your attitude problem.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen you in action? I could have been that lost high school student you pointed in the wrong direction, or that man in the sunglasses you knocked into a display case.”

“Pssh, as if. I’ve never seen you in store before, I’d definitely remember if I had.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at that, and Lance realized how that sounded. Stuttering, he immediately tried to backtrack, wishing he’d sat further away so Keith couldn’t see his cheeks start to heat.

“Not that you’re memorable or anything! It’s just your stupid mullet, anyone could spot it from a mile away. You probably cause car crashes with that thing, 80s haircuts lead to blindness in the elderly.”

Keith smiled softly, and Lance should probably stop talking but he couldn’t help it, something about this guy had unfurled the knot of unease in his chest and now his thoughts were spilling out like loose threads.

Besides, who knew if him and Keith would hang out after this again? The thought caused him to slowly dwindle into silence, and Keith must have sensed the change in mood because he coughed awkwardly, sitting up.

He probably thought that he’d pushed too hard, that Lance thought he was over-sharing. What Keith didn’t understand was that Lance wanted to share, he wanted to get to know him.

When had that happened?

Lance moved to join him, reaching for a notebook and flicking through it idly. He tried to keep his tone casual, letting Keith know that it was okay to drop his guard. He wasn’t ready to get stuck into Newtonian theories just yet.

“So… if you don’t shop at Walmart, where do you go for that?”

He gestured over to a stack of dirty bowls by the air vent at their feet, with bits of vegetable crusting to their sides. Keith grimaced, swatting Lance’s hand away.

“I usually go to the market a few subway stops from here. Fresh fruit and vegetables are so cheap, and there’s some supermarkets around for essentials. Plus, my boss gives me a discount on meat so I’m pretty much set.”

“That’s a pretty sweet deal! I thought this area was the only place with a market, and the stalls here are pretty much priced the same as where I work.”

“You know, if you’re strapped for cash, I could show you sometime?” Keith phrased it as a question, avoiding Lance’s curious look. “The market, I mean.”

Lance’s stomach absolutely did not flutter at the thought that they might actually meet up after this, outside of class.

“Sure, Mullet.” Lance couldn’t keep the grin off his face, and he was rewarded with Keith offering a small smile of his own.

❂  ❂  ❂

It was another few days before Lance had class again, and he felt a weird tinge of excitement as he stepped into the lecture building - a decidedly foreign feeling for a Monday morning.

Must be the caffeine. Didn’t see Coran getting his coffee this morning though, he must be even later than usual.

Slipping through the doors behind a throng of students and being careful not to spill his drink, Lance scanned the theatre for Pidge, who was supposed to have met him earlier but slept in. It was a bit uncharacteristic for them, but Lance shrugged it off. He supposed that much brain power probably demanded a lie in every so often.

Instead, he saw Keith moving to sit a few rows down from Lance’s usual spot. Their eyes met, and Lance paused. For a moment, the look they shared was uncertain, but before he knew it they’d met in the middle and Lance was mumbling something about mixing things up today and Keith was saying something similar.

So Pidge and Lance had sat in that spot for a year and a half? No biggie. There’s no way they’d comment. When Pidge did arrive his guess proved correct, but their eyes said everything.

Filling in Pidge on his little study session had been a mistake. He’d been complaining to Hunk, (“You’ll never guess who that asshat on the phone was the other day, Keith, the other asshat from Astronomy 202.” “No. way!”), when Pidge had stopped by to pick up a textbook and ‘accidentally’ heard the whole thing. He hadn’t heard the end of it for the whole weekend, eventually just relaying everything he’d picked up from Keith until Lance never wanted to discuss another theorem ever again.

Pidge leaned over now, gesturing between the two.

“So, new friend?”

“Who, this guy?” Lance made a show of eyeing Keith up and down, before waving him away. “Never.”

Keith scoffed, but both of them were smiling a bit when the lights dimmed.

Lance’s mouth fell open when instead of Coran walking through the door, a beautiful woman with dark skin and bouncy white hair strode into the lecture theatre. She looked like she owned a company, or three, her well-tailored suit and flowery blouse a stark contrast to Coran’s questionable waistcoats.

Coughing slightly and reaching for a bottle of water on the podium, she began.

“Hello, everyone. Professor Coran is ill at the moment, so I will be taking over the topic for today. I’ve stuck with the notes he sent you, and have tried to structure my lecture around it as best as I can. If you could just bear with it for today that would be lovely, my name is Professor Allura if you have any questions later on.”

Lance leaned over to Keith, whispering as Allura continued.

“I will definitely be hitting up her inbox. Did you hear her accent? Like molten velvet. She probably takes tea with the Queen in her downtime, you reckon I could pass for a prince if I got a new jacket?”

“No.”

Lance turned to Pidge to ask the same, but they just rolled their eyes and ignored him. It was standard policy for classes with Lance and a hot professor. This policy proved difficult though when Lance began leaning over at 15 minute intervals, making quips about Allura’s hair and intellect until Pidge had to forcibly lift his writing hand towards the paper.

“- So if any of you are thinking about becoming astronauts, I want to press that a grasp on the basic theory is essential. Travelling in space is about more than just bravery, it’s about being prepared for any eventuality that might arise.”

“It’s like she’s talking directly to me! Is this destiny, Pidge?”

“Your only destiny right now is me shoving you down those stairs.”

“You wound me.”

Allura started talking about home comforts then, apparently tortillas are a good choice for space travel as they don’t create crumbs, and Lance fanned his face exaggeratedly.

“- And I think that’s about it for today! Thank you, and feel free to email me if you have any further questions.”

Keith got up abruptly at that, and it suddenly occurred to Lance that he’d been eerily silent throughout the majority of the lecture. No theories to offer, no points to dispute – he hadn’t seen Keith so much as raise his hand.

“See you around, Keith?”

Lance didn’t get a response, not even a terse one-word answer this time, and he didn’t miss the sour look on Keith’s face as he all but stormed out of the room.

“What’s his problem?”

Pidge rounded in their seat, giving Lance an incredulous stare. Lance’s words died in his throat, and he quickly felt put on the spot – a little like he was being scolded – but Pidge said nothing. They did offer him a sort-of-reply, if thwacking him on the head as they turned to walk down the stairs counts.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re really an idiot, Lance.”

 ❂  ❂  ❂

Lectures continued like that for some days, it’s not as if Keith was rude to him, and they still sat next to each other, but even Lance had pegged that something was amiss.

What happened to the easy conversation they’d had at Keith’s house? Or the light-hearted quips Keith had made before class? It didn’t make any sense. After exactly two weeks of lectures (not that Lance was counting or anything), Keith went to sit back at the front, without so much as a wave.

When Lance pointed this out to Pidge they only shrugged, leading him up to their usual spot closer to the back. Lance tried not to notice the disappointment in their eyes.

Pretending that his bonding session with Keith hadn’t happened would have been a lot easier if reminders of it hadn’t kept popping up all over the place. It was in Keith’s elegant annotations accompanying his own scrawled notes, the CDs he kept on his dresser that he’d subconsciously taken to stacking in Keith-fashion, the thin notebook Keith had lent him that was filled to the brim with diagrams and explanatory sticky notes.

Hell, Lance couldn’t even eat his favourite brand of pot noodle now without remembering how Keith had dragged him into his kitchen, opening the fridge to reveal stacks of pre-prepared meals and ranting about how pot noodle was humanities laziest creation and was probably fattening us up for alien harvest (which of course Lance argued against at first, before he had a mouthful of Keith’s cooking and promptly died a sweet death.)

For a guy that he’d only known a few weeks, and had only properly hung out with once (though it was for a solid 15 hours, both of them emerging from the flat the next morning like they’d just battled it out with a hoard of zombies), Lance was surprised at how quickly he’d grown to like Keith.

Even now, when Keith wasn’t talking to him, the glares Lance directed at his back had shifted into something else. He noticed how Keith had taken to lifting the microphone to his lips, clearly explaining each new point so that every student could hear, and voicing concerns that most were too intimidated to put forward.

He hadn’t thought he was depressed until Hunk pointed it out, which surprised Lance because Hunk was unusually perceptive and hadn’t felt the need to do so since they’d first met. Back then he’d been grieving, and Hunk had cooked him a big bowl of food as well as talking him through the first semester lectures that he’d missed. It didn’t seem like much, but for Lance, who was sick of being asked ‘how he was doing’ and ‘please send my condolences’ by people he barely knew, Hunk’s quiet support had been a blessing.

What was he grieving now, though? The death of a budding friendship that had barely begun? Or something else? Lance was tired of turning it over in his head, and tried to focus on things that relaxed him - space, or the ocean, but the bundle of nerves in his chest felt suffocating and wouldn’t go away.

I should have just ordered the takeout food, then none of this would have happened. Keith was right, only an idiot would strike up conversation with a random employee.

Lance was broken out of his thoughts when he realized where he’d ended up, the corner of Tohbang street. Keith’s street.

He should just turn around, go home. Take the subway and never look back.

Or… he could take a quick peek? To see if he was at work. If Lance treaded carefully enough he was sure that he could avoid being spotted. Keith had skipped class yesterday, these were the normal actions of a concerned friend, right?

Right.

Lance kept telling himself this until he was standing outside, trying to look inconspicuous as he snuck a look at Tohbang from behind a row of bins.

Real smooth, Lance. A real–life ‘Totally Spy’, truly.

The embarrassing hiding spot was worth it, though, when he saw Keith move into view.

Through the window Lance could see that Keith’s hair was tied back, his burgundy apron contrasting with a plain black t-shirt and emphasizing the firm muscles of his forearms. He was flipping noodles on the griddle, hands moving between ingredients with an efficiency that could only have come with practice.

Keith was completely in his element, and Lance couldn’t look away. The thudding of his heart was loud now, and the realization that maybe his obsession with Keith wasn’t to do with friendship at all came slowly and in bits, like oil glinting flecks of colour on a hot day.

Just as Lance was wondering what it might feel like to brush the bangs out of Keith’s face, he really needs a hair-cut or a hair-slide or something, Keith seemed to sense that he was being watched because he turned to the window abruptly.

They met eyes and Lance cursed, ducking back behind the bin and hoping to god that Keith didn’t see him crouched outside like a psychopath. He’d never live this down if Keith saw him, fuck, fuck.

No such luck, because his pounding heart almost leapt out of his chest when Keith stepped into his field of view, arms crossed and face tight with irritation.

“Lance, what are you doing.”

“I, uh. I’m just, looking for something! Apparently my older sister came by here to pick up some food and she said she’d dropped her bracelet, seems like I can’t find it though so whoops gotta go!”

Lance stood up, edging away, but Keith’s hard voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You know that we only deliver, pick-ups aren’t a thing here. Tell me the truth.”

Slowly spinning around with a grimace, Lance stuck his hands in his pockets. Guess he wasn’t getting out of this one.

“I... wanted to know why you hadn’t been in lectures. What the deal was.”

“What the deal was?”

Lance nodded warily, because Keith had gone from 0 to 100 in about 20 seconds and his fight or flight response was kicking in.

“Lance, why do you even care that I wasn’t in lectures? It’s not like you’ve ever checked up on me before.” Keith’s voice was bitter, and Lance felt familiar anger prickling through his veins in a wave.

“Once again, I’m just trying to be nice! I’m trying to look out for a friend. So again, what is your deal?”

“Look out for a friend, huh.” Keith laughed, but there was no humour in it. He unfurled his arms, moving closer and eyeing Lance incredulously. “Do you really not get it?”

Keith searched Lance’s eyes. When it became clear that no, Lance really didn’t get it, he sighed and gave him his full attention.

“Look, I obviously misinterpreted something here. I… I thought we had a moment, and I might not be that great with people but it seems like you’ve forgotten everything and it’s not fair.”

“We did! Have a moment, we had a great moment! You really helped me out with those equations, so why can’t we be friends? Do you not… do you not like me enough?”

Lance couldn’t keep the hurt and confusion out of his voice but Keith looked like he wanted to shake him, or smack him, or something; some violent mixture of the two warring in the lines of his face.

Wow, I finally managed it. I broke Keith.

Keith’s voice did break when he spoke, and he ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly.

“Ugh, you’re impossible! I’m angry because I do like you, Lance. I really fucking like you.”

Lance felt like his muscles had frozen up. Like… Keith, liked…

“And it sucks because you’re clearly into Allura, I haven’t ever heard you talk about a guy like you have about her, and I don’t think I can handle you idolizing her achievements anymore without tearing my hair out. Which I’m sure you would love, but I want you… I want you to like me. I know we barely know each other, and this is weird, and I’m sorry.”

Lance still hadn’t said a word, and watched as Keith turned to get his things, clearly not expecting a response. But Lance knew that Keith was alone in that stupid apartment as soon as he left, sitting up there on the roof and wondering what he did wrong, and he couldn’t let that happen, so when Keith moved to turn Lance grabbed his arm.

Keith startled but stayed shock still as Lance swallowed, trying to get a grip on his feelings.

“I... I have lavished praise on a guy like I did Allura. A lot, actually. I think Pidge was getting sick of it.” Lance laughed dryly, avoiding Keith’s dark eyes probing his own.

“When I’m nervous, I talk a lot. It doesn’t have a filter, and a lot of the things I say don’t really make sense, or they’re insecure, and people don’t know how to deal with it. When I’m really nervous about something, I crack lewd jokes. They’re usually about girls, but when no one else is around and I’m sitting in my bedroom, I imagine what I could say about guys in the lecture hall if I wasn’t so afraid.

With you sitting next to me, all I could remember was that night on the roof, and honestly? I just wanted to be back on that bike, lean my head on your shoulder and try to imagine that everyone in that theatre was a nice old lady who would accept me.”

Keith’s expression softened, and he stepped forward to take Lance’s hand. This wasn’t about him. Lance hitting on people superficially was just one way he coped with rejection, but he realized then that it wasn’t Keith’s rejection Lance was afraid of. It was his own.

“I get doubts too. You’re not alone, Lance. Do I strike you as a guy prone to public displays of affection?”

“No…” Lance laughed again, but it sounded wet and then Keith’s fingertips were brushing his cheeks, and he was pulling him into a hug.

“…Although you’re doing it now.”

“Because it’s you. I’m used to being alone, but with you filling the gaps I know things will be better. I like you Lance. I’m not going to force you to confront your feelings directly if you’re not ready. I don’t mind if you can’t ever return them, I’m happy just knowing you care.”

Lance pulled back, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and smiling.

“I do care. I’m sorry that you thought I didn’t. I wasn’t ready before to face this but I…” Lance breathed in, feeling the beginning of his doubts slipping away. “…I really like you too, Keith.”

It was like a weight had been lifted. Lance hadn’t felt this free since he’d left home to become an astronaut. He gave Keith a sly smile, stepping forward and slipping his hands back around Keith’s waist, angling his face closer.

“Do you… want to go on a date today? A market date?”

Keith smiled, pulling Lance towards him and leaning in.

“Sure, Lance.”

They closed the gap.