Lance sighs. “Dude, this isn’t going to work if you’re awkward about it.”
“I’m not being awkward,” Keith says, lying like a liar. He crosses his arms, setting his jaw like the stubborn ass he is. “I’m being normal.”
“Right,” Lance says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s why you keep looking at me and getting all flustered and looking away again. That’s certainly going to sell it for us.”
“It’s going to be fine! I’m not being awkward. You’re being picky.”
“Keith, the Ernlea are not going to believe that I’m your concubine if you go redder than a virgin every time you look at me. Come on, dude. You have to make it at least a little believable.”
Keith goes bright red. “I’m not a virgin! And don’t — it’s believable!”
Lance grins, brown eyes narrowed and teasing. “Could’ve fooled me.” He pulls at the red lace top (lingerie. It’s lingerie) and adjusts the see-through gauze harem pants the Ernlea attendants have set out for him to wear to the audience with the queen. “What, am I distracting you?”
“They didn’t even get you a sweater or anything. You’re going to freeze,” Keith says instead of answering, pointedly looking at Lance’s face and face alone. “It’s — it’s ridiculous. They gave me three shirts to choose from, and each of them goes to my wrist.”
“Because the queen thinks I’m your concubine,” Lance explains patiently. Again. “And this makes her trust you more, remember? You just have to play it off for the next couple hours. If they find out I’m not actually your concubine, they’ll feel all scorned, and then we’ll be in real trouble.”
“It’s disrespectful,” Keith insists.
Lance inclines his head. “A little.”
“Why are you so fine with it, then?”
“Because I don’t care what this queen thinks, Keith. I care what you think. I care what the team thinks. I care what my mom thinks. But this random queen who we’re going to meet for two hours and then maybe see again, like, twice in our lives? She can think whatever the hell she wants of it’ll get her signature on the Coalition papers. She has four thousand fleets to offer us, Red. I’d pretend to be the team’s jester if that’s what she fuckin’ wanted. That one might hurt my feelings, though. The concubine thing is hilarious. She thinks I’m too pretty to be a soldier. That is a compliment to the highest degree.”
“Yeah, well, it’s still dumb,” Keith mutters petulantly. “And I hate it and her.”
Lance tilts his head. He stares at Keith for a few moments, scrutinizing him. Keith shifts uncomfortably. He hates it when Lance tries to beam through his skull and read his thoughts.
(It’s very annoying, because he often sees right through Keith’s shit, and how dare he do that? Who gave him permission?)
Finally, Lance snaps his fingers, eyes bright with an idea.
“What?” Keith exclaims, startling. “No!”
“Yes. Kiss me. It’ll make it less awkward, give us more chemistry.”
“No! That’s not going to — no!”
“Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me —”
“No! I’m not going to do it like this!”
“Kiss me kiss me —” Lance blinks, cutting himself off. “What does that mean?”
Keith clamps his mouth shut. “Nevermind.”
“No, no, tell me. What do you mean, ‘not like this’?”
“Nothing. I didn’t — it didn’t mean anything. I just mean I’m not kissing you.” Keith glances down at his wrist, face burning. “We’ve got to — we’re almost late. Let’s go.” He hurries for the door, brushing by Lance and speedwalking away.
“Keith, you’re not wearing a watch! Hey! Wait for your concubine, you douchebag! God, what kind of leader doesn’t wait for his concubine?”
“Good job, team,” Shiro says, smiling softly at them. “The queen signed. Lance and Keith — good job on you two, specifically. I don’t know why she needed you two to play couple so badly, but you rolled with it, and I’m proud of you.”
“I’m just that pretty,” Lance preens, just as Keith mutters: “Define ‘rolled with it’.”
Lance rolls his eyes. “Oh, you big baby. So what I had to sit on your lap? I’m not that heavy.”
Keith harrumphs. “Whatever. I still don’t understand why she was so convinced that we’re — a thing, or whatever.”
“Maybe because on that call with her, after we saved her planet, you looked at Lance with the softest look in the world and said you ‘couldn’t have done it without your right hand man’?” Pidge suggests.
“Fuck right off,” Keith says hotly, ears going red as the rest of the team giggles. Only Lance is on Keith’s side, looking at Pidge in confusion.
“He says that all the time. How was that weird?” he asks.
Pidge stops laughing abruptly, blinking at him in shock. “You’re — you’re fucking with me, right?”
Lance continues to look at her oddly. Pidge exchanges a look with Hunk and Allura, and all three of them sigh.
“Alright, guys,” Shiro says, clapping their hands to get back their attention. His mouth is twitching. “I can tell you’re all done for today. Good job, again. Wind down for the evening, meet me in the common room at nine if you want to watch a movie. I think it’s Coran’s turn to pick — he said something about a home movie?”
He dismisses them to loud, half-playful groaning.
“Those are so embarrassing,” Allura complains.
“The embarrassment is the best part,” Hunk argues, because if nothing else then he lives for drama. “The issue is the length.”
“Nuh-uh. The issue is the camera quality! It’s, like, one pixel!”
Keith takes the opportunity to slip away as the team argues, walking quietly back to his room. Today was a — day, that’s for sure. He might skip movie night, just because Lance always sits next to him at movie night, and if he has to spend any longer pressed close to Lance and smelling his floral shampoo he might collapse into nothing.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Who is writing his life? When are they going to give him a fucking break?
“Hey, Lance,” Keith says, trying to keep the weariness out of his voice. It doesn’t work, but luckily Lance doesn’t think it’s about him.
Lance grins wryly. “All that politics wear you out, Oh Introvert Of All Introverts?”
Keith huffs a laugh. He is so grateful that for all Lance’s observational skills, sometimes he’s as dense as a brick wall.
“You gonna skip movie night, then?”
“Yeah. I need to sleep and contemplate what I did to deserve this life.”
Lance laughs, bright and high-pitched, and Keith has to physically fight the besotted smile that’s begging to force itself on his face.
Fuck. Why can’t he go back to being annoyed by that sound? Huh? This whole whipped-for-Lance business is getting out of hand.
“Dork. I’ll walk you to your room, then. Gotta get my Keith fill of the day.”
Keith firmly tells his brain to shut the fuck up and not make the dirty joke it wants to make. Lance is a horrible influence on him. He never used to make that’s-what-she-said jokes before they started hanging out, and now his brain thinks them on reflex.
“I think past you would shoot you in the head if he heard you say that.”
“You got me,” Lance teases back, grinning. They come to a stop at Keith’s door, and his smile gets softer around the edges. He looks up at Keith, and squints, because one of the sunlight-simulator lights is on right behind Keith’s head, shining right into his eyes. It makes the brown in his irises glow into something almost amber, like drizzled honey.
“Night, Fearless Leader.”
Keith can barely make his tongue work, mouth suddenly drier than the desert.
Lance reaches out and pats Keith’s bicep, turning slightly and stepping away. And Keith —
Something in Keith goes absolutely rigid, and then snaps.
He grabs Lance’s forearm, pulling him back towards Keith, then leans down and presses their mouths together so hard their teeth clank. His other hand cups Lance face, tilting it so their noses aren’t smushed together.
For a split second, Lance is tense, unmoving. Then he lets out the faintest “oh” noise, like it’s involuntary, like it came up from his chest without his permission. And then, faster than Keith can register, he moves his arm from Keith’s grip and wraps both of them around Keith’s shoulders, yanking him closer and kissing him harder. Keith curls his newly freed hand around Lance’s waist, squeezing tightly as he tilts his head again and opens his mouth to lick against the seam of Lance’s lips. He responds immediately, gasping on his next breath as Keith runs his tongue along Lance’s teeth, the roof of his mouth, just — anywhere he can reach. Tasting him. Devouring him.
Keith pulls back with a shuddering sigh, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on Lance’s. Lance’s hand shakes slightly from it’s place on the back of Keith’s neck, fingers smoothing out constant motions on the heated skin. He’s panting. He’s close enough that Keith can smell that damn floral shampoo, sweet and soft and intoxicating. He presses another kiss to Lance’s lips, close-mouthed and soft, because the scent makes him heady.
“I meant something like that,” he whispers. When he opens his eyes again, Lance’s are still closed, and his chest moves rapidly as he pants. Keith takes another moment to burn the image of Lance’s flushed face and wet mouth into his memory.
“Goodnight, Lance.” Carefully he pulls away, slipping into his room and closing the door behind him. He gets ready for bed without letting himself think of anything, just forcing his mind to be blank. When he finally crawls under the covers and shoves his pillow over his head, he realizes that the hand that was cradling Lance’s head still smells like him.
Outside Keith’s door, Lance is standing, frozen, brown eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Slowly, he brings his hand up to his lips, letting his head sag forward.
A small smile upturns the corners of his mouth.
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