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Keith could hear Pidge laughing far too loudly and far too obnoxiously behind the bathroom door. Wincing, he placed a small band aid on the tiny red hole starkly contrasting with the pale skin on his thigh. He put his jeans back on and and wrenched the door open glaring at his very red best friend, now wiping tears from her eyes.
“Oh this is glorious Keith,” Pidge said, “I can’t wait to see Allura and tell her you put a fucking hole in your thigh with your pencil.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “I was nervous, okay?”
“So you forgot that you had a sharpened pencil in your hand before impaling yourself?”
“I was fidgety and literally about to take my hardest fucking final you ass, so yeah I forgot,” he huffed as the two made their way off campus. The trees had just begun to gain some of their leaves back, and the bite of winter had started to make way for sunnier spring afternoons. He took a deep breath in and felt infinitely lighter, despite the mammoth backpack he had been toting around that entire week.
“Well, dear Keith, I’m ready to get so drunk I forget why I decided to be friends with a trypophiliac.”
“Shut up,” Keith laughed, “But yeah, I need a good Irish coffee and forget that I had to sit through almost 7 hours of testing this past week.”
“Ugh, you’re so weird. Why can’t you have a fucking normal drink like a normal college student? Jesus Keith, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if the blood you gave last week is unusable because your caffeine to blood ratio is toxic to the average human being .”
“Pidge can we get to Altea without you being a shit just this once?”
“Not a chance,” she sneered, “And why the rush? Eager to see Mr. Sex God Guitar Player again?”
Keith could feel his ears warm. “Can you maybe not say that out loud, and in public?”
They crossed the street and could see the fluorescent “Open” sign of Altea Bar and Grill blink invitingly as they neared.
Pidge shrugged as she entered the bar, “Hey I’m just using your own inebriated and lovelorn words against you.” She looked at Keith, a twinkle in her eye. “What else did you say? I think you mentioned something about wanting to know if his fingers were that skillful when he-”
Keith clapped a hand over Pidge’s mouth, looking around to see if the subject of their conversation was nearby. He felt Pidge lick his hand, and rolled his eyes.
“Mature Pidge, and nice try. Our moms let us take baths together so you’re going to have do better than tha-FUCK.”
Keith stepped away and cradled the thumb Pidge had bitten as they strolled towards the bar stool, near the elevated stage. She sat down smugly, as Allura came out from behind the storage room behind the counter. She looked between Keith and Pidge curiously.
“Do I want to know?”
Keith held out his throbbing thumb. “She bit me like a heathen!!”
She let out a loud laugh and grabbed one of the bottles from the high shelf. “I’m sure Pidge felt threatened in some way and was just defending herself.” She handed Pidge her drink and began to make Keith’s.
“I was,” Pidge said nodding. “He attacked me because he was afraid that Lance was going to hear about how much Keith appreciates his finger picking. Which I thought was perfectly innocent. It is a rather intricate style of guitar playing-”
“Fuck you.”
He sat down and took a long swig of his drink, choosing to ignore Pidge’s teasing and allow himself a moment of respite.
Altea had always been a constant in their collegiate years. Pidge and Keith first visited the establishment for a night out during freshman year. The laidback atmosphere, Allura’s fantastic drinks, and convenient location made for a solid hangout to blow off post-exam steam. It also helped that the bar had live music, allowing local bands and artists to sign up weekly and serenade the drunken masses. Keith himself was urged by Pidge to sign up and rekindle his high school love of performance, but ultimately decided against it. The musicians that played were all quite good, but Keith only had eyes for the alternative rock group ‘Blue Lion,’ or rather their guitarist, Lance McClain.
Lance was an aeronautical engineer Keith had met briefly on club day his freshman year. He was the president of an engineering club and had managed to snag Keith’s attention amidst the hordes of extracurricular booths in an attempt to persuade the other to join. Lance was tall, all smiles, tan skin, and on the verge of giving the younger boy a heart attack. Keith had tried to listen to what Lance was saying but all he could focus on were long, dark lashes framing ocean blue eyes that pierced Keith’s own. He ended up taking a pamphlet and making an empty promise of checking the club out.
He never did.
Fast forward a month, Keith found himself at Altea’s with Pidge after a particularly brutal final only to see that the hot engineering kid from club day was happily singing a livelier version of ‘Santa Baby’ with his bandmates. Lance had lost the bright blue polo and khakis from that day was decked out in in sinfully tight jeans, a school tank that stuck to his chest with perspiration, and reindeer antlers. Keith had choked on his drink.
It also didn’t help that Lance had recognized Keith when his set finished and teased the younger boy about failing to show up to the club meetings.
“It’s a shame,” Lance said playfully punching his arm, “I would have loved to see you there.”
Keith laughed a little too loudly and went home that night with Lance’s dimpled smile burned into the back of his eyelids.
From then on, much to Pidge’s delight, Keith may or may not have memorized when the ‘Blue Lions’ scheduled their gigs at Altea and scheduled his own bar trips around that. He struck up an easy friendship with Lance, but the banter remained an Altea Bar and Grill phenomenon. On the rare occasion the two saw each other on campus, Lance would send Keith a knowing grin and Keith would either blush and wave back or trip over his own feet. Or both.
He also may or may not have gotten drunk on quite a few occasions and declared to Pidge that he wanted Lance to play him like he played his guitar. These were not his finer moments.
“Just ask him out already,” Pidge would always say, “Jesus, I cannot take another day of your weirdly sexual music metaphors.”
“He’s too cool Pidge,” Keith would slur in response, often staring wistfully at his own reflection, “If I’m going to do it, its gotta be cool. Like him. Cause he’s cool. Ya know?”
“WHEEEEEN??!”
“Soon dear Gunderson, soon.”
‘Soon’ however, was a relative term as Keith found himself at a loss of when and how to go through with what he viewed as a Herculean task. And now, as he sat feeling the bittersweet taste of his drink coat his tongue and watching the blue lights hanging above the bar, he felt his heart sink wondering if ‘soon’ was just a another word for never.
Pidge, as if sensing the dark turn of Keith’s thoughts, turned to him with earnest.
“Keith buddy, stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop being emo about Lance.” Keith gave her a distasteful look.
“ Your’re emo about Lance,” he retorted childishly.
Pidge rolled her eyes. “Look man, I’m almost 100% certain if you walked up to him and just told him how you felt, you’d probably save yourself from an early, stress-induced grave.”
Keith blew his friend a raspberry.
“Mature, Keith, real mature.”
She turned back to Allura with sigh.
“Men,” she said forlornly.
Allura nodded in silent agreement.
---
An hour passed, and Keith was tipsy. He refused to acknowledge the advice being offered by both Pidge and Allura, and resorted to ordering three more drinks and watching the bar fill with the regular Friday night crowd.
Eventually Lance and his bandmates, Hunk and Shiro, arrived and began to set up stage.
Hunk was the ‘Blue Lions’ drummer and also an aeronautical engineer in the same year as Lance. Though he seemed physically intimidating, Hunk was quite honestly, the nicest human being Keith had ever met. He once offered to make Keith a congratulatory souffle upon overhearing that he and Pidge were celebrating perfect scores on their exams.
Shiro was the bass player, also in Lance’s year, and had recently been admitted to Johns Hopkins medical school. He also had successfully managed to ask out Allura about a month earlier and happily learned that she would be attending Hopkins on scholarship for grad school as well. The two were a perfect duo and also a constant reminder to Keith that anything could work out if it was meant to be. Not that he ever took his own advice of course.
The trio were quite exceptional together, both covering music with their own alternative twist and playing their own masterful creations. They would often collaborate with other regulars in the Altean music scene, as they were tonight with Rolo Sharma, an indie artist whose mellow rasp put the crowds at ease.
Keith would often find himself watching the band perform, and in the moments he wasn’t completely enamored by the beauty that was sweaty Lance McClain on guitar, he would think back to his primary school band years. He knew he was perfectly capable of signing his name on the bar’s live music sheet, but he always hesitated to do so.
His thoughts were disrupted when Lance glanced over at the bar and met his eye. He beamed.
Keith finished his drink and asked for yet another.
---
“SHIT.”
Keith turned his head sluggishly at the sound of Lance’s exasperated sigh. The taller boy made his way to the bar, frustration etched onto his face.
Allura walked over. “What’s up?”
“Rolo’s bailed on us for absolutely no goddamn reason,” Lance showed Allura his phone screen and continued, “This wouldn’t be a problem if ya boi wasn’t nursing a sore throat. I can do backup, but I’ll start hacking if I do anything more than that.”
Allura sighed. “Crap, I was counting on you guys to perform a whole set. No one else signed up this week...”
Pidge looked sideways at Keith and he watched with gears turning as Lance rubbed his temples.
“Would they be fine if we did, I dunno, instrumental covers?”
“I guess, it’s just...it’s a Friday and it’s late and remember last time these crazies didn’t have live music to sing along to?”
Lance visibly shuddered. “Your windows took the brunt of that, yeah.” He groaned dejectedly. “Okay,” he started, “I guess instrumental it i-”
“I’ll do it.”
There was a beat of silence as Lance's, Allura's and Pidge's widened eyes trained on Keith. Before he could backpedal, Pidge piped up.
“He was a frontman in a band in high school, and I must admit,” she looked at him eyes shining, “they were pretty damn good.”
Lance’s face was split into a blinding grin.
“Alright Keith, let’s figure out what we’re doing then.”
He shot up from his bar stool and let Lance to lead him backstage. When they were away from prying eyes, Lance wrapped him in an enveloping hug.
“Thanks man,” he pulled back to look at him, “You sure about this though?”
Keith forced himself to maintain eye contact.
“I haven’t done this in a while, but..yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”
---
Keith glanced around the dark mass of people beyond the stage lights with wide eyes. There was a soft murmur of conversation, of glasses clinking and being set down. A loud, “GO KEITH!” rang from the left side of the stage and he shook his head, grateful for Pidge’s over enthusiastic cheer.
The twangy echo of the guitar rang out as Lance started to play the opening notes beside him. Keith risked a look to find the other gazing back at him with a reassuring smile. Keith smiled weakly back and turned to the microphone in front of him. He listened attentively as Lance’s guitar intro ended and Shiro’s bass and Hunk’s drum began to set a steady but rhythmic beat. Taking a deep breath, he sang the first line.
I think I talk too much.
His voice was clear and low, earning a whistle from Pidge’s side of the room. Lance’s guitar and Shiro’s bass continued on weaving together sonically, burying themselves into Keith’s skin as he sang.
I need to listen, baby
I need to listen, baby
I need to listen good
He felt his once still foot, start to tap in beat with Hunk’s drumming and suddenly his stiffness melted away like discarded sheet music.
I think I try too hard
How I look, what I do, what I'm sayin', ah
He did usually try too hard. Not that day though. Not right then.
I spend too much time explainin' myself
I hope there's some time to change it
Wrapping one hand around the microphone, he smiled at an audience he couldn’t see. He was just going to let himself go for however long this lasted.
I can taste it, my heart's breakin', please don't say
Lance’s voice harmonized with Keith’s, and the latter found himself turn slightly to see Lance sing the line with him, smirking when he met Keith’s gaze.
That you know, when you know
Keith sang alone, eyes still locked with Lance, wondering if the other was as warm as Keith felt.
I can't take it, I'm impatient, tell me baby
Now I know, you should go
They sang together as Keith turned back towards the front hoping no one could see the red that flooded his cheeks as he tried not to dwell on the guitar player’s cocky smile. Both hands wrapped around the microphone as he leaned the stand forward and delivered the chorus.
I know I'll fall in love with you, baby
And that's not what I wanna do
He heard both Shiro and Lance join him as the drum beat picked up. Keith could feel his entire body vibrating with an energy that wasn’t there in the beginning of the performance. He leaned his stand back, both hands still wrapped around the mic, and continued to move with the music.
I hope you won't ever lie to me
And if you do, I know I won't be your cry baby
Keith effortlessly removed his microphone from the stand and made his way to the side of the stage he had heard Pidge whoop and cheer from. He couldn’t quite see her, but sang to that side nonetheless.
I think I worry a lot
I need to take it easy
“Damn straight.” He heard her call out. He smiled as he finally spotted her standing on a chair towards the back, giving him a thumbs up as she downed her glass.
I got this anxious feeling
He placed his hand on his chest. His shirt was soft and he could feel his heartbeat thrum rapidly under his fingertips.
But it goes away for a minute
When I'm with you breathing
He winked at the now swaying Pidge and stepped away from that side of the stage. He began to make his way to the opposite end, revelling in the way his footsteps matched with Hunk’s drumbeats, and the way Lance’s bright eyes followed him as Keith crossed in front of the guitar player to sing to the audience.
I can taste it, my heart's breakin', please don't say
That you know, when you know
Keith could burn forever in the memory of how wonderful his voice sounded when paired with Lance’s.
I can't take it, I'm impatient, tell me baby
Now I know, you should go
He made his way back center stage and adjusted his mic back on the stand. He sang the chorus, this time making sure to clap his hands in beat to the music, encouraging the audience to follow suit.
I know I'll fall in love with you, baby
And that's not what I wanna do
Some audience members had begun to sing along. He encouraged it by turning his mic towards them, urging them to finish what he had started. They obliged enthusiastically.
I hope you won't ever lie to me
And if you do, I know I won't be your cry baby
Keith pulled the stand back towards him. The music had softened slightly and he gazed serenely into the blue lights hanging above the bar.
The sun's coming out but I'm feeling colder
He grabbed the microphone with both hands and brought it close to his chest.
I can't wait 'til the drought is over
He felt his eyes close and head lean back, his long hair sticking the nape of his sweaty neck. He was drunk from the thrill of performing, of Lance now picking haunting notes on his guitar, and hell, probably of the several drinks he’d chugged before climbing onstage. A smile curled onto his lips before he could help himself. God, this was almost euphoric.
The whine of the guitar seemed to get louder with each passing note and Keith could feel eyes boring themselves into the side of his face. He opened his eyes slowly and turned to find himself almost impossibly close to Lance. The other boy was only inches away from him, eyes lidded as his gaze remained unwaveringly locked onto Keith’s. Keith could count the moles on Lance’s exposed neck, feel Lance’s breath softly fan over his own face, and see his own extremely red face reflected on the aviators perched atop the guitarist’s curling brown hair. His breath hitched, as Lance began to smile his crooked smile while playing the last few notes in the instrumental bridge.
‘Oh yeah.’ Keith thought. ‘Two can play at that game.’
And call it spur of the moment, his exacerbated pining over the past few months, or even his own alcohol impaired judgment, but Keith let his inhibitions take a backseat as he took a step forward and pressed his forehead against Lance’s to sing his next lines.
I know I'll fall in love with you, baby
There were no harmonies here, so Keith did everything to sing this line as slowly and deliberately low as possible. Lance’s eyes fluttered and Keith dared to press even further. Lance let out an almost inaudible “Jesus Christ” and Keith couldn’t help but smirk at the reaction. His gaze fell to Lance’s lips and he continued.
And that's just what I'll do
His eyes flitted back up Lance’s face, and he grinned at the other boy’s wide eyes and the faint flush that now colored his high,brown cheeks. In one fluid motion he reached up to grab Lance’s glasses to put them on, remove his mic and walk away downstage to sing as the music picked up once more.
I hope you won't ever lie to me
And if you do, I know I won't be your cry baby
Lance didn't miss a beat and quickly strode back to his mic to sing with both Shiro and Keith. But even behind darkened lenses, he could see the seemingly permanent blush that decorated the guitarist’s face. This only invigorated him to sing the last chorus with as much energy his adrenaline would allow him.
I know I'll fall in love with you, baby
And that's not what I wanna do
The audience clapped rhythmically and raucously sang along, their mismatched voices sounding so beautiful to Keith, seeping as deeply into his bones as the vibrations from the music onstage.
I hope you won't ever lie to me
And if you do, I know I won't be your cry baby
He placed the mic back on the stand and used Lance’s aviators to push his bangs away from his forehead.
Cry baby, cry baby
I need to cry, baby
Cry baby, cry baby
He held onto the mic with all he had, clutching onto the dregs of adrenaline that he could feel slowly but surely leave his body.
You need to cry, baby
Cry baby, cry baby
We need to cry
Hunk’s drumbeat was all but gone, and Shiro’s last bass note rung in the air so that Keith’s only accompaniment was the beautiful boy on guitar to his right. He locked eyes with Lance once more and sang the last line.
And if we do, I know that would be alright
The crowd was deafening. Keith wasn’t sure if it because it was a Friday night and everyone was drunk as the moon, or because he legitimately delivered a performance worthy of such a response, but he sheepishly grinned and took a bow.
“THATS MY BEST FRIEND EVERYONE. THAT PIECE OF SHIT IS MY FRIEND.”
Keith slapped a hand over his face embarrassedly, simultaneously wishing Pidge wouldn't be so obnoxious while also feeling a blooming sense of pride. He felt a strong hand clap his back and he turned to see Shiro’s handsome face glowing down at him.
“Dude, you’re an amazing performer, and to be honest,” he leaned down to whisper, “You’re voice sounds way better than the smoker’s rasp Rolo thinks gets him laid.”
Keith smiled and shook his head, “Look, it was probably because I had a few drinks and finals were over an-”
“Bullshit,” he heard Hunk say beside him. The larger man, wiped some sweat off his thick brow beamed radiantly. “Here I was, wondering if you’ve ever done anything remotely close this genre of performance, and you knock that asshat Rolo, who had been doing this for months by the way, out of the water!!” Hunk crushed Keith into a bone breaking hug. “Seriously dude, you were great. Not to mention,” he let go to look deviously into Keith’s eyes, “You’ve properly stunned old wiseass back there into radio silence.”
He looked over Hunk’s shoulder to see Lance leaning his guitar against the back wall and reaching for a water bottle. The action made his shirt ride up a little and the strip of exposed brown skin made Keith’s mouth go dry.
Hunk shoved him forward. “Go on,” he said rubbing his hands together, “I wanna see his reaction.”
Keith took a deep breath and walked to where Lance was now emptying his bottle of water.
“Hey.”
Lance turned around and wiped the drop of water that had been about to roll down his chin.
Keith gulped. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew Pidge would be making some sort of thirst joke right about now.
“Hey yourself,” Lance said, smiling lazily.
Keith felt as if he was about to perform for the first time again, his knees were weak, his eyes were wide and was the room spinning..?
“I, uh, I really had fun performing with you-with you guys! You especially-” Keith added and
Lance’s raised an eyebrow.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, you’re a great performer,” Keith needed someone to step on him, “And you play guitar so...good. I mean well! You play guitar really well! I promise I know grammar, I just took my finals this week you see so I’m a little brain dead and you’re really attractive and Jesus I cannot believe I actually said that out loud-um... please feel free to run me over, free of charge-”
Lance stared at him for a beat and then started to laugh very loudly. It was almost as bad as Pidge, except he snorted and then covered his mouth as his face turned that lovely shade of red again. Keith felt like he was going to pass out.
“Well um, I should go find my friend Pidge, she’s uh, probably hanging from the ceiling rafters like the demon she is after she gets drunk-”
Lance grabbed Keith’s wrist as his laughter died down.
“Keith, wait.” Lance said, eyes twinkling. “You’re pretty adorable too you know.”
Keith felt his cheeks warm. “Don’t call me adorable,” he pouted, “That’s the worst way to let a man down.”
Lance’s deep blue eyes widened. “Who said anything about letting you down?”
Keith could feel his heart hammer in his chest as Lance took a step closer. “Besides, you’re right. I shouldn’t call you adorable. Especially with whatever I saw onstage. That was…something else entirely.” His eyes flitted to Keith’s lips.
Keith felt the the world around him mute as he stared at Lance’s face, once more so impossibly close to his. Keith felt a small spike of adrenaline resurface and before he could psyche himself out, he closed the distance between himself and Lance.
Lance’s lips tasted like how performing felt. Of salt, adrenaline, and the hum of an energy that had encased Keith in a euphoric-like high onstage and that now made its return as he moved his mouth against Lance’s. He tilted his head to get a better angle and curled his fingers against the soft hair on Lance’s nape, tugging on it playfully. Keith wanted to write ballads about the small moan that escaped Lance’s mouth right then. They broke apart, gasping and lightly pressing their foreheads together. Lance was red, but still managed to smirk laughingly at Keith’s similarly flushed face.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”
Keith eyed him incredulously. “Oi, that's my line.”
Lance chuckled softly, and Keith didn’t want that fondness to ever leave Lance’s face.
“Go out with me?” Keith blurted out.
Lance looked back at him with renewed confidence. “You think you get kiss the living daylights out of me and not follow up on it later? Bro, not only am I going out with you, but I’m also going to date the fuck out of you.”
Keith laughed and wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck.
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Counting on it,” Lance replied as he leaned in again.
As he kissed Lance under the dimmed stage lights, he heard a distant “Fucking finally” and smiled into Lance’s mouth.
‘Fucking finally,’ he thought.