#drunk babbling

This morning you woke from bed planning to do just what you do every day in the castle of lions. Train, eat, train, save the universe from certain peril, try not to stare at Lance, train some more and pass out.

But somehow you’d lost track of the days.

Well, not somehow, you’d been actively avoiding considering the days for some time now. In fact, the second you got Shiro alone you were going to chew him out for even mentioning it to the others because why on earth—or anywhere else for that matter—would you want to celebrate your birthday?

You spent so many of them miserable and alone and it was just a constant reminder of your useless existence—

“It won’t be too bad Keith, I promise, you might even enjoy yourself a little,” Shiro says over breakfast while Hunk goes on about tonight’s “Party Menu.”

“I don’t want a party Hunk, I mean—thank you, really. Just. Can’t we just act like it’s any other day?” You try.

You try but Hunk just rolls his eyes at you, “Uh? No. Besides, we could all totally use the break. Just relax and enjoy it birthday boy.”

“No one gets out of being fawned over Keith, it’s your turn,” Pidge volunteers bluntly.

You spare her a scathing glance because you remember her birthday and how quickly she’d gone from, “It’s no big deal” to “I’m the birthday princess bitch!” after some choice “fawning” that you were absolutely certain was not going to work on you.

Just because she eventually got into it did not mean you would.

“It will be fun,” Allura pressed, the warmest of her smiles ebbing away at your very soul. Most days Allura’s overwhelming warmth was a welcomed intrusion into your head but today you quietly wished you’d never left your room and thus never had to look at any of them.

“Gah…!” you groan to no one in particular, vaguely resigning to your fate. The last birthday had been Lance’s and that had actually been a pretty great night spent playing games and laughing and—okay, maybe you just enjoyed the excuse to be around Lance while he was in too good of a mood to let himself get annoyed by whatever you could possibly do to annoy him.

Which was plenty, you’d been told.

Speaking of, “…Where is Lance anyway…?” you say out loud, awkwardly betraying the fact you’d been thinking of him.

Thankfully, the only one of your friends who catches the slip is Pidge who lets out a little throaty scoff and says nothing.

It’s Coran, over a mouth full of something that once resembled Hunk’s attempt at space pancakes, that answers you, “He ran off looking for the mice this morning.”

“The mice?”

Coran shrugged, “s’what he said.”

“Don’t worry about it Keith,” Pidge started after Coran’s words left you quiet and slightly confused, “I’m sure he’d never miss your party.”

None of them thought this statement was at all strange but you felt your chest cease up a bit and you really wished she’d stop.

…

It was her fault, after all, that you were so actively aware of Lance now. She’d come into your room one night, scared the artificial daylight right out of you, and went on a small very personal tirade sitting on the floor next to your bed before you could even register it was her.

“I think,” she’d said finally, “I think I’m ace.”

This woke you up and you immediately crawled off your bed to sit next to her on the floor.

“Well. That’s. uhm. Cool?”

“Is it though? I mean—I used to see people get a lot of flak for it. And I mean, just cause I’m not like… super into kissing anyone or anything doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally want someone to hold my hand or anything and like… wouldn’t my being ace… I dunno, turn people off to wanting to be like that with me? I mean. When they inevitably realize that I don’t… want…” She was so small here next to you and the doubt leaked into her voice so surprisingly easily you weren’t even really sure you were talking to the same girl you fought alien armies with.

Frankly, it bothered you tremendously, but you were not the priority that night, she was and for some reason she had come to you. So.

“Well first off you’re like fifteen and I don’t think you should even be thinking about sex,” you say, hypocritically because you’ve been thinking about it for years when you first noticed how attractive certain classmate’s lower abdomens were in the middle school locker room and how everything would get sort of fuzzy around the edges of your brain for a while after that.

But this was different because this was Pidge and in the short amount of time you’d known her you’d grown to see her as a little sister to be protected and kept far away from terrifying things like penises.

She laughed lightly and rolled her eyes but didn’t look at you.

“Secondly,” you continue, “Sex really isn’t everything. Pidge, you are brilliant and strong and kind and beautiful and someone is going to be made giddy just for the gift of holding your hand.”

“But what if they want more and I don’t—”

“Then they will respect you and not do anything or they’ll meet the business end of Voltron’s sword.”

She chuckled again.

You love that sound. Hell, you love any positive sound coming from anyone of your new family members, bonus points if you helped them make it. It made you feel like you were actually doing something right for a change.

“And third,” you reached for her hand, intertwined your fingers, and held it tightly in yours, “You can hold my hand whenever you want.”

“Yeah,” she laughed outright, a little snort at something she secretly found so funny, “Never have to worry about you wanting something from me, huh?”

Nope! Of course not because—

Wait.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You hope you sound as incredibly confused as you are rather than in any way annoyed or accusing.

“Well, cause I’m a girl, duh?”

You blink at her.

She blinks back.

“…Are you trying to tell me you’re still in the closet?” She croaked out suddenly.

Then it makes sense, why Pidge would come to you with this kind of thinking.

“Oh.” Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

“I-I mean I won’t out you or anything!” Pidge squeaked suddenly, probably realizing all the toes she could have been stepping on. Eventually you just shake your head.

“Ah. Well I mean. I’m not hiding it or anything I’m just. Surprised you knew? I mean, it’s not like I wear a big ol ‘gay orphan’ sign or anything.”

She flinched at your wording but you’re the one who said it so you can’t bring yourself to consider it.

Her turn to shake her head, “You actually kind of do though? Cause like- I could have sworn from the second we got all these lions together and started our great big mission to defend the universe that you were just—you know. Into Lance.”

Whoa there.

Whoa.

You’re being gay was one thing, not a new development at all, not something you actively felt the need to advertise because it was as much a part of you as your hair being black or the freckles on your shoulder. But being into Lance?

“w-where did you get a crazy idea like that?”

“The way you look at him?”

“Uhm?”

“talk to him?”

“…”

“study him”

“--!” was it getting warmer in here??

“You also get this really cute stutter sometimes.”

At this point you have to release her hand so you can cover your face.

“I-I don’t have any-any idea what you’re t-talking about.”

“That. That stutter. It’s diabetes inducing adorable and it only comes out around or about Lance. Keith come on, you can’t possibly expect…” She twisted herself to look at you head on but suddenly you can’t really think anymore.

You’re just.

Thinking about him and your heart might be beating a little faster and you are suddenly so fucking aware—

“G-god no I… I don’t…I can’t…”

Okay you’ve been in space for a little while and maybe your options on who to think about while laying alone in your bed at night may have been pretty limited and you knew it was wrong and you knew that their being your fucking comrades in arms really wasn’t going to make for acceptable ways to think about them so maybe you’d limited yourself to the one and maybe you thought it was safe because in the waking hours he was just too much of a pain for you to accept how stunning he was but then—

Then he started behaving and then his sarcasm and his jokes and his flirtatious tendencies became endearing. And he was interesting and fun and his smile could light up the room and grazing his arm while walking down the hallway together would send sparks of electricity down your skin and maybe your nights weren’t spent thinking about him aesthetically anymore but instead you were thinking about how he said your name and how his eyebrows would knit together and the sweet encouraging things he could say and—

“…I need to be ejected into space. Good bye Pidge, it was nice getting to spend this time together.” You announce, dropping your hands from your face and staring at the wall straight ahead of you.

She punches you in the shoulder, “Don’t even joke you can’t leave me here.”

You stare at her, sure that your face is conveying how distraught you are at the softening look on her face before you shout, “why the hell am I into Lance?!”

And then she grins.

You really, really wish she hadn’t.

“If it helps,” she starts slyly, “I’m pretty sure he’s into you too.”

You shove her so hard in the side she topples over, “SHUT UP. No he doesn’t. Wow. Pidge.”

Pidge rolls onto her back, holding her side and laughing like a small bespectacled hyena, “Oh my god you just did that. You should see your FACE.”

“PIDGE.”

She wipes the imaginary tears off her face and holds her hand out to you, her shoulders still shaking with her restrained giggles, “Still wanna hold my hand?”

You bite your lip, grab her hand and pull her back up to a sitting position. You don’t let go.

“You’re a jerk.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“Not as much as you love Lance.”

“Pidge. Please for the love of all that is holy don’t ever say those words in connection to each other ever again.”

…

It’s been a few months since then but your face still burns furiously at the stupid thing your heart decided to do to you. Pidge seemed to be doing just fine coming to terms with herself, and whenever she felt particularly affectionate she had no issues cuddling up to one of her boys, even Allura had gotten an awkward nuzzle that had surprised her but otherwise gone quite well considering Allura’s immense desire to bond with Pidge. But that was a different story altogether.

One your way out of breakfast, Shiro jogs to catch up with you.

You’re still prepared to slaughter him and grin broadly when he says he wanted to go train with you.

Yes, Shiro, let’s make it look like an accident.

Of course, you would never purposefully hurt your closest companion in the entire universe but sometimes you allowed yourself little innocent daydreams where you for once have the upper hand and he’s screaming uncle.

Especially when he starts talking.

“I actually told Allura about your birthday months ago. There really was no way to avoid it.”

“Really? Really? All you gotta do is not say it. Why was that hard?” You growl out.

He rolls his eyes, “Nah you’re right, clearly I should have lied and said you didn’t have a birthday, you are a figment of our imagination and thus were never actually born yeah?”

He nudges your side and you roll your eyes this time, “The correct response is, ‘It’s no big deal, you don’t need that information.’ Shiro.”

Shiro wraps an arm around your shoulders and though you’re still talking he pulls you back so you’re pressed against his chest. You can hear his heart beat, steady and strong and it’s so soothing to you it almost causes you to melt into him on the spot.

Shiro is alive. Shiro’s existence is the one worth celebrating. Shiro is warm and safe and so many wonderful things.

“It is a big deal Keith, we five paladins of Voltron are defenders of the whole goddamn universe and every single one of us is so incredibly important we should stop and thank the stars in celebration that we were all born. You, most of all, the one who fought so hard and brought us all together. You deserve a happy freaking birthday, Keith.”

Your mind wanders to Allura and Coran, sure that either of them could take your place if need be, sure that it all would have gone the same without you, maybe better without your emotional wreckage self mucking everything up.

But then Shiro kisses your forehead and you breathe deep through your nose and he smells like home.

“Enjoy today, okay?” He says, lips still pressed lightly to your skin.

“Fine.”

“Hey guys, is Keith being a big ol’ grumpy pants again?” Your heart jumps into your throat and Shiro pulls up quickly but doesn’t release his hold on your shoulder.

“When isn’t he.” Shiro started with a chuckle in his throat before changing the subject, “we missed you at breakfast today, Lance.”

The blue paladin stands at his ridiculous height in his ridiculous pajamas and nods, “had some stuff to do. Hunk saved me some grub I’m sure. Right?”

Shiro laughed and you pull out of his hold, for some reason painfully aware of how that might look to someone who didn’t know how close the two of you were. Despite, you know, Lance does know how close you are. It shouldn’t be an issue but you feel the tension ease once your adopted brother’s arm is off your shoulder.

“What were you doing Lance?” You ask carelessly. Maybe a little short. Maybe a little suspicious.

“None of your business, Mullet.” Lance answers back without missing a beat before clapping Shiro on the arm, “Alright, I’ll see you guys tonight. Enjoy whatever it was you two were heading off to do yeah?”

Then he rounded the corner and was gone as quickly as he’d come.

Your heart did not recede from your throat but you don’t think Shiro noticed.

...

You retreat to your room after sparring with Shiro. He works you hard and you are desperately in need of a shower and maybe a nap. Once clean of the sweat and your muscles are starting to relax you flop yourself down onto our bed wrapped in a towel and hear the faint squeak of a mouse that had been disturbed.

It’s the little angry looking blue one that if you were honest was probably your favorite of the three.

“Hey little guy, what are you doing in here?”

It scowls a little bit but reaches up with its little hands and you see there’s a small piece of purple felt stuck to its skin. It tries to pull it off with one hand but it just gets stuck to the other as it wiggles and tries to swat it off.

Must be some really soft material you think, before offering the mouse your finger and easily removing the cloth, one calloused finger against a little prickly rat paw.

The rat beams at you, offers its thanks with a bowed head, and then bounds under the bed.

A few minutes later it returns with more stuck to it and expects you to help him again.

“…” You do, of course, but this time you decide to follow him under the bed and there you find something extremely strange.

It is, for all extents and purposes, a small stuffed hippo.

The other mice as sleeping on it, one opening its eyes every time the little angry one tries to make himself comfortable and ends up getting stuck again. He rips his hand free and pulls the hippo apart a little more before realizing you’re watching.

“What do you guys have here…?” You ask finally before reaching under your bed and picking it up.

The sleepy mice get to their feet, startled at being tossed off their new bed and there’s some stuffing leaking out of the hippo’s arm were the first rat had kept trying to make itself comfortable.

The material is extremely sheer and not appropriate for being made into a stuffed animal at all, but the stitching is solid and its very clearly a hippo which brings a small smile to your face.

“Well. This is pretty cute…”

There’s a knock on your door and without waiting for a reply the person on the other side simply lets themselves in.

Its in this millisecond you remember you are only wearing a towel that is choosing just now to fall loose what with all your maneuvering to get the hippo out from under your bed.

You try to tighten the towel but only manage to pull it lose and the ridiculous shriek that breaks from Pidge’s lips as she immediately shuts the door behind her is something that will follow you for the rest of your days.

Until she says to the door and potentially those beyond the door, “NOPE. NOT TODAY. YOU SAW NOTHING.”

With your heart beating a mile a minute you cover yourself properly, put the hippo down, and turn to stare at her in absolute shock.

“…Pidge…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Pidge.”

“I’m sure he didn’t see anything.”

Your heart stops like it crashed into a wall at its breakneck speed, “W-who…!”

“He just wanted me to check your room for the mice. I’msorry.” She says the last bit without a breath and is still facing the door because she clearly doesn’t realize you’ve covered up again but that really doesn’t matter.

“Ch-check for t-th-the mice?”

Who was looking for the mice earlier.

Who was outside that door and got a flash of—

“….I need to be ejected into space.”

“Keith, no!”

…

It had been a couple hours since the crowning moment of your mortification shooting through the castle of lions roof and it probably should have concerned you that you hadn’t seen the object of your miserable affections since but you’re just too relieved that you don’t have to look him in the face.

“Am I—I’m not… unattractive or anything…right?” You mumble to Pidge over dinner. You two are the only ones in the dining room right now as for whatever reason everyone else is off doing “party preparations” and your dear friend Pidge, destroyer of your life, has opted for not leaving your side.

At your inquiry, she pauses over her space juice, straw between her lips.

Slowly, she opens her mouth in an almost slack jawed expression. She lowers the juice to the table and turns to look you straight in the face looking for all the world like you’d just grown a second head for a solid minute before she finally speaks.

“Keith…have you seen yourself?”

“Right…” you mumble dejectedly, “You’re right. I’m too pale. And short. And weirdly proportioned and maybe I’m not working out right—”

Pidge throws her now empty space juice at you, “WE ARE NOT DOING THIS.”

You flinch at the space juice but otherwise you’re sure your expression doesn’t change from your general dread and self-deprecating thoughts.

She seems to notice your sincerity finally and looks utterly dumbfounded.

“Oh god there is no way you don’t realize you’re pretty. No.”

“Pidge, I’m a guy. I’m not supposed to be pretty.”

She groans deep in her throat and turns her incredulous look up at the ceiling, “I can’t believe this. Look. Keith. I just saw you naked. There is nothing wrong with you okay?”

You look at her for another long moment before sighing and looking down at your plate of food goo.

You then jump onto the next train of miserable thoughts. What if there’s nothing wrong with you but Lance still just doesn’t find you attractive? What if you’re just not his type? What if it doesn’t matter if you were drop dead gorgeous like Shiro or Allura he just can’t stand you point blank. What if—and this was long shot because you were pretty damn sure about this one—he actually was straight?

You push your plate across the table and lay your head down where it used to be, “Yeah okay. I don’t even know why it matters it’s not like it makes a difference one way or another.”

“Makes a difference to what?” She asks you softly, noting your discontent.

“You know,” you start, the faint blush building in your cheeks judging from the vague temperature change, “Lance…?”

She scoffs, “Anyone ever tell you, you think too much about nothing?”

“Ouch Pidge.”

You nearly jump out of your skin as the object of discussion lets himself in to the kitchen carrying a large box in his arms.

“I’m totally not nothing. But I digress, what were ya’ll talking about me for?”

He puts the box down on the table and stares pointedly at Pidge who simply smirks at him in response, clearly trying to play off the conversation to avoid the point.

“It was just like I said, nothing,” she laughed.

Lance looked thoughtful for a moment before finally letting his eyes dart over to you and you feel your pulse quicken.

His cheeks darken just the slightest bit and he immediately looks away from you and back at Pidge.

“Oh, right. You guys are talking about what happened earlier right?”

Pidge twitches, clearly having hoped to avoid this. You start to rise from your seat, prepared to bolt out of the room.

“L-Listen, Keith, I didn’t see anything okay? Just. You know. Just a flash of white. Maybe a little bit of pastey ass but I promise it was just a second yeah? No big deal.” He laughed, put emphasis on the words “pastey ass” and scratched behind his neck.

You can feel your soul departing from your body as Pidge slams her palm onto her face.

“God you did not just say that.”

“P-P-Pidge. I’m gonna. I’m gonna go now. Okay? Yeah?”

“Keith no—”

“It’s no—nothing, we can hang out later okay??”

You can’t look at him. You can’t even walk out the door he came from and immediately turn and bolt out the back exit. As the door slides shut behind you Pidge starts to shriek and you can barely make out the words: “You utter IDIOT Lance!”

…

It’s another hour before Pidge is back to bother you again. Knocking on your door this time.

“It’s time for your little. Party. Family bonding time. Thing.”

You groan and pull a pillow over your head from your position moping in your bed.

“Come on Keith this isn’t optional, and you know it!”

“I thought we already got him to agree earlier? Did something happen?” That was Allura’s voice now.

You briefly wonder if you can crawl through the vents to the airlock.

But this is Allura, and Allura always wins. (You have high hopes for this war really.)

So somehow you’re sitting in the common room while Hunk offers you baked confectionaries, Shiro relaxes on the couch some paces away, Coran and Pidge are trying to rig what looks like small radio to play the music off of Lance’s phone while the blue paladin himself is sitting on the floor next to Allura taking miscellaneous objects out of one of the boxes he’d been carrying around earlier.

“Why didn’t you get the music set up earlier with the rest of us?” Lance called to Pidge absently.

You should have been paying attention to Hunk and his soft smile and all the effort he put into making cookies in space, but Lance’s voice just cuts through most things lately.

Pidge growls out her retort, “I was actually hanging out with the birthday boy unlike some people.”

Lance scoffs, “We’re gonna do plenty of hanging out now. Yo Mullet! You done over there?”

You cringe, noticing suddenly that your still vaguely holding a cookie and haven’t finished chewing the bite that’s sitting, deteriorating, in your mouth.

You swallow, thank Hunk, and then the two of you walk over to Allura and Lance who have set up a board game.

“Okay so I have no idea what this game is called but-”

Allura says something that may have been a cross between a sneeze and bird squawk.

“Yeah, that.” Lance laughs before continuing, “But! I figured a way we could just play Clue using the pieces.”

You raise a brow, “…Clue?”

Lance blinks at you and Hunk reaches over to place a steadying hand on your shoulder. There’s pity there, you note with vague annoyance.

“Well. This is gonna be a long night. Alright Keith, let’s talk about Mr. Body.”

…

Much to Lance’s annoyance, you win four out of the five rounds you play of the game. Lance wins the first one because it was mostly instructional. A small part of you wishes you could stop being a dick and let him win but once you get the hang of it you’re just having too much fun figuring out what’s in the little yellow envelope.

Hunk doesn’t really care about the game, too amused that you’re both playing female characters.

“Bro, they’re color coded. We have to be Mrs. Peacock and Scarlet. It’s just. How things are.” You mumble idly. Lance nudges you good naturedly in the shoulder.

“That’s Mr. Peacock to you!”

Hunk laughs, “You want to be Mr. Scarlet Keith?”

You look at him like the concept is ludicrous, “I’m totally fine with being Miss Scarlet.”

Allura takes it one step further by claiming Professor Plum but stating that a professor can be whatever gender and she has no obligation to specify anything.

Pidge shouted from the radio, “Mah Babe!”

The princess shot her a smile and a few minutes later what with the princess having suddenly inspired her, Pidge shouts again “Got it!”

And now there’s music, something Spanish you’ve never heard before but Lance’s eyes light up in that way that makes your heart race and he’s standing and pulling Hunk away from the board shouting that he should dance with him.

You stay on the floor, arm tossed over your bent knee carelessly while you watch them. Hunk is a little clumsy but he seems to be used to this while Lance is a flurry of arms and hips swaying to the beat.

You imagine it would make you jealous that he’s dancing with Hunk.

But you’re just so distracted by the smile on his face and occasionally the thrust of his hips that you can’t be bothered.

Allura coughs into her fist off to your side and suddenly you realize your mistake.

You feel the heat rush to your face and you peel your eyes away from the boy of your dreams, mentally rushing through words to try and deny how he’d just been caught ogling his teammate.

Allura just smiles that knowing softness warming your chest as the two very different heats rage in your system and all you can do is huff and wheeze like a deflating balloon.

She giggles, “Don’t worry about it Keith, I’ve known for a while. And honestly, Lance probably likes the attention.”

You choke and glance back at Lance just in time to catch his head turning back to Hunk, a laugh breaking out of his lips and it makes you weak.

…

You’re so tense you don’t know what to bloody do with yourself. You also don’t know where they got the sheet with the colorful dots and you absolutely do not want to play.

“Can you believe Alteans had Twister?!” Lance gleefully shouts as he lays the sheet down in the open space of the common room.

Coran interjects, “We called this game “Back Breaker Lite”, the full game involved specific poses on a third spinner that was just splendid fun! But they were a bit suggestive, when Allura wanted to play I had the spinner burned.”

The group takes awkward note of the bright grin on Coran’s face, but no one says anything.

Well, almost, but it doesn’t look like Lance can help himself, “I wanna see suggestive poses people had to do while playing Twister. I mean. It’s twister. It’s bad enough.”

Coran blinked at him.

You turned around and wandered back to the table covered in snacks and opt for chips this time. You have no idea where the chips came from, but they are not home made and look like your regular lays potato chip.

They are not, your regular lays potato chip.

You choke and shuffle for the closest cup of questionable liquid before downing its contents to try and sooth the burning in your throat. The drink somehow manages to burn more but in a very different way.

You feel the twitch in your eye as you look down at the cup and the big L scribbled on the side of it, decorated with one large slanted star at the end of the letter.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Lance shouts suddenly.

Of course, you know this now.

“What… what the hell is this, Lance?” You mumble, on second thought you realize he probably can’t hear you from his distance as you stare at the star and consider Lance’s signature, but when you look up there he is, right in your face, the game completely forgotten.

“It’s whiskey. I think. At least it tastes like it. If you wanted some you just had to ask,” Lance explains, taking the cup and casually taking the rim of the cup between his teeth.

As if that same rim hadn’t been in your mouth two seconds ago.

One of his brows raises suggestively for just a second and you imagine it must be in response to the shock on your face but as soon as you notice it it’s gone, and Lance is shuffling away with another cup in his hand and a sharpie in the other.

You realize too late he’s shuffling away because Shiro is suddenly perked up and walking over, “Whiskey? Lance?! You’re drinking!?”

Lance has wandered over to one of the boxes on the other side of the table and is kneeling before he takes one long finger and hooks it over his cup, releasing it from his mouth and rolling his eyes at Shiro.

You can’t see him roll his eyes, too distracted by his fingers, but you can hear it when he talks.

“The legal drinking age in Cuba is sixteen. Also, we’re in space. Chill Shiro.”

Pidge decides this is the opportune moment to slip herself into the conversation, “Oh! Can I have some then?”

Lance and Shiro immediately and in perfect unison shout back to her, “No!”

The girl sulks, “Fine then. I’ll just steal some when you’re not looking.”

“Left foot green Allura.” Hunk’s voice starts. Apparently, they’ve started the game without you and this makes you feel far more relieved than it should.

Allura is standing on the sheet with Coran but she waves at Pidge, “Pidge get back here, I need to put my foot on you.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” but she returns to the game anyway. Coran is already making things difficult by leaning over Allura to put his right hand down on the farthest yellow circle.

“Lance are you playing?” Hunk shouts and you turn your attention back to him, only now realizing exactly what he’s doing as he is now holding two full cups.

“Next round for sure,” Lance announces. He makes his way back to you and offers you the new cup, scrawled across the side you can see the K and another star. It makes your heart a little fluttery, if you’re honest.

“I uh- I didn’t really…” You try but Lance simply pushes the cup into your hands. Finally you manage, “The chips were hot. I wasn’t…”

Lance blinks at you for a minute, putting the pieces together before he shrugs, “Well that doesn’t mean you can’t have any now. Besides I poured it for you. It’s yours now.”

If you’re really honest, finishing Lance’s drink earlier was already starting to make your head feel fuzzy. You don’t drink. So you say this.

And that’s when Lance’s eyes light up. Not in that unbridled joy or soft affectionate way but in surprise and understanding.

“Oh! Oh, okay. I mean I can just give it to Hunk that’s not a problem, you don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.”

Lance reaches for the cup that’s still held in your outstretched hand but you reflexively pull it back. This confuses him. It confuses you too really.

But in that moment the only thought in your head is: He got it for me.

You take a sip, it’s slightly sweeter than what his drink had tasted like. It’s still harsh and biting, but you know there’s something else in the drink.

“Did you put space juice in here?”

Lance smiles. Yup, there it is. “Well yeah. I actually put in a little bit of effort for yours.”

You’re so unbelievably warm and you’re sure you haven’t had enough to drink for that to be the cause.

Then you realize Lance is drinking it straight.

You’re slightly frightened by this prospect and reflexively take a longer drink from your cup. Lance grins, “Is it good?”

You’re not sure how to answer that. It’s still better than earlier…

You’re sure you’re getting fuzzy though and you watch Lance take a deep swig from his own and the wetness on his lips as he lowers the cup makes you light headed.

You don’t initially like the taste of it on your tongue, but you figure if he’s doing it then it’s got to be worth it, right?

It burns on the way down and you’re feeling even more inclined to stop, but you glance up at him through shy lashes and there’s that stupidly endearing smile on his lips and your heart thuds loudly in your chest and you just want to feel closer to him.

So you take another drink.

It is kind of good, you guess.

He licks his lips.

It is very good.

“It’s… Okay.” You feel something in your head just shut off. Your shoulders go slack.

“Cool. If this is your first-time drinking remember to pace yourself. Keep yourself hydrated and don’t drink too fast okay?”

You nod, and he continues quite to the contrary of what he just said, “Oh! We should totally play a drinking game after this!”

You try to tell him that is definitely not a good idea, but he ignores you for the sound of Pidge shrieking as Allura lands on top of her, Coran the only one left standing and cackling victoriously.

“Alright I’m in!” Lance then proceeds to finish his whiskey before slamming the cup down and shaking his head with a stupid little smile on his face and an attractive flush on his cheeks.

You lean back against the table then and watch him jump onto the pile of their friends, dragging Coran down with him.

Pidge shrieks again but it’s immediately followed by laughter.

Shiro eyes you curiously but doesn’t say anything about the way you keep your cup pressed to your lips and watch the next couple rounds.

…

You’re not sure what time it is or who’s the last to topple twister before everyone moves to sit in a circle on the ground to play Lance’s drinking game.

You’ve finished your cup and half a cup of water though you’re not sure where you left it. You really weren’t paying attention because your head was too full of the acrobat that was the blue paladin who only lost a round when someone else took him down with him and he was definitely giving Coran a run for is money.

Now they were playing never have I ever.

Which was fine. Simple. At first.

You informed them that you’ve never seen snow. Pidge had never owned a pet. Hunk never had one of those dreams where you went to school in your underwear.

“I did have a dream where I went to school with out my headband though! It was like being naked I guess.”

Lance glared at him, “It absolutely isn’t Hunk. It absolutely isn’t.”

But then it was Pidge’s turn again and she announced without a hint of shame, “I’ve never kissed a boy before.”

You wince.

Everyone else drinks.

Everyone.

Pidge stares at you bewildered. You try not to think about it, instead you consider how Lance did.

And your eyes dart to him and his eyes are shooting between you and Shiro and maybe if your head was less fuzzy you’d be wondering about that but you’re still just thinking about what other boy Lance could have kissed.

But then, of course, you were 900% sure they guy was bi. He could have kissed anyone, well before their trek out to space even.

“Guess no one has to question Keith’s sexuality.” Hunk jokes. Lance kicks him in the side though he knows Hunk doesn’t actually mean anything by it.

And the words slip out of your mouth before you can catch them, “Well I mean I’m gay so.”

Hunk is the only one surprised by this, “I guess you do…?”

Pidge rolled her eyes, “No you were right the first time. You really don’t.”

Coran and Allura eye each other like they don’t really know what the term “Gay” means and simply had no opinions in regard to boys kissing other boys.

Lance’s speaks next and he looks like he regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, “Yeah we knew that but how have you and Shiro not kissed yet?”

Shiro chokes on his drink which is more coffee than anything and tastes absolutely heinous. “Excuse me?”

You seem to have forgotten how to breathe.

“Lance! He’s like my brother!”

Lance eyes you then, his eyes somewhat sad. You’re not sure what your expression says to him but you know you don’t like where this conversation was going at all.

“I’ve never kissed Shiro,” You say with finality, not meaning for it to be for the game but Allura makes a show of taking a sip of her drink before smiling brightly in Shiro’s direction who goes beat red immediately. Clearly she does this to break the tension and she succeeds.

The circle burst into varied chuckles and laughs, and she looks quite proud of herself though Lance looks slightly confused and laughs the least.

Then it’s Hunk’s turn.

“Never have I ever… Gotten needlessly jealous and snuck whiskey into a totally wholesome party to chill myself out before.”

No one moves, confused by how specific Hunk had decided to be.

Lance’s eyes look a little darker if you think about it.

Finally Pidge reaches over and pushes Lance’s cup closer to him, “Drink up, Lance.”

You eye the blue paladin over the rim of his cup as he holds it up to his lips, shooting Pidge and Hunk dirty looks as he does so, “It’s not really whiskey, it just tastes like whiskey…”

While he drinks you eye his Adams apple and you feel your throat going impossibly dry again. You wonder why he was jealous. Then of course you remember Allura had at some point since their journey began kissed Shiro and you figure that’s as good a reason as any.

You sigh and idly take a sip of your drink while Lance takes his turn and it takes you a moment to realize why he’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“What…?”

“You have?”

“Have what—OH!” Right. Yes. You’re playing a game.  “What did you say?”

“Never have I ever danced on a bar.”

You choke. You eye Shiro who’s back to looking like a smug asshole. You take another drink.

“Keith!”

“There are reasons I don’t drink I guess.” You mumble to no one in particular.

Lance shuffles off to his phone which has been playing music at a lower volume since twister and proceeds to pick a particularly up beat song and raises the volume

“Guys, new task, gotta get Keith white girl wasted and see if we can get him to dance on the table. Birthday special. Come on,” He announces. Pidge grins like the evil little gremlin she is and Hunk feigns a sympathetic glance while Allura, dear sweet Allura, speaks up.

“And who exactly would that be a birthday special for? Certainly not Keith if he ends up so far gone he can’t remember the evening!”

Suddenly, without any kind of warning, you’re reminded that Lance saw you naked today.

Lance saw you naked and said you had a pastey white ass and then proceeded to get jealous because Shiro and Allura kissed.

You only realize you’ve finished your drink because Allura and Pidge are both looking at you with different levels of concern.

Then Pidge shrugs, “Well I guess that means Keith is down.”

Lance grin’s and takes his little KStar cup for a refill.

You notice Pidge steals a swig of Lance’s currently abandoned drink when Shiro isn’t looking and you start to wonder if that’s a good idea or not.

It makes sense though, since Lance’s drink is the hardest.

No wonder Pidge is as far gone as she is on stolen sips.

You wonder if you’ve departed somehow yourself, if you’re behaving any differently. It’s been a couple years since the bar dancing incident where Shiro had to come save your drunk ass with your fake ID and your extremely low tolerance.

Perhaps your lack of alcohol consumption had built your tolerance?

No it goes the other way.

Maybe it’s just the fact it’s space whiskey so it’s not really affecting you much.

Lance sits back down, closer to you this time and you can smell his shampoo.

His face is just So. Perfect?

That jaw looks edible.

God it’s hot.

He’s hot.

The room is hot.

“I think I wanna change…” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

Lance glances down just in time to see your fingers tentatively lift your shirt off the lowest part of your stomach and you might have noticed him panic ever so slightly.

Then he takes your hand and pulls it off your shirt and places it on the ground between the two of you. Your not sure if you turn your hand around and give his a squeeze before being released or not. You might have imagined it.

“Okay never mind to that last thing…” Lance mumbles, placing your cup down on the ground, “When was the last time you had some water Samurai?”

You’re about to say you can’t remember when you eye Pidge’s little grin as she skims more of Lance’s drink, he’s attention so completely on you that he doesn’t realize. She even goes so far as to give you a thumbs up. Shiro might be nodding off against Allura’s shoulder so she’s getting more brazen.

Allura and Coran appear to have noticed this but don’t seem to care.

“Uhm…” You mumble intelligibly, having forgotten Lance’s question.

“Oh boy.”

“OH! I’ve got one!” Hunk shouts, turning all attention to him. Shiro’s eyes even snap open but he almost immediately returns to slumping against Allura.

“Never have I ever flown someone else’s Lion!”

You briefly recall the time you had to pilot Black to save Shiro after the wormhole. That’s fair, you guess. You take a drink, much deeper than you probably should have.

Lance looks concerned, “Actually, Hunk, I think we should—”

“My turn!” Pidge cackles, “Never have I everrrr…” She stretches the R and taps on her chin, “oh! Never have I ever thought Lance was hot.”

Lance cranes his neck back and looks at her genuinely insulted before realizing that everyone in the circle is drinking. (Well, sans Shiro who’s brows furrow at the movement of Allura’s arm as he’s clearly trying to rest.)

You even manage to giggle for a minute before you can swallow yours.

Lance’s blush is euphoric.

“Sorry dude, I’m just not into you, but look at that shit,” Pidge chuckles as everyone is putting their glasses back down.

Allura laughs, “Don’t get too excited Lance, it was before I noticed your ears.”

“He does have a rather nice face, doesn’t he?” Coran starts casually, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Lance covers his mouth and his fingers are spread over his nose and cheeks and you briefly consider reaching up and taking those fingers into your mouth.

Hunk is gushing about how amazing his best friend is before you hear your voice going without you again, “For a guardian of water Lance is pretty…steaming.”

Pidge chokes and hits the ground so hard she almost knocks over her space juice.

Lance’s eyes go wide as he stares at you. You shrug, but your mouth keeps going, “I mean let’s be real, am I the only one who’s daydreamed about—”

Allura lurches forward and covers your mouth with her hands, Shiro lands quite hard on the ground and snaps to full attention while the princess laughs and smiles like it’s all some big joke, “Now! Now, Keith, let’s get back to the game shall we?”

You look down, painfully aware of how similarly colored Allura’s skin was to Lance’s, and you try to ignore the heavy fluttering in your chest at the idea of Lance’s hand over your mouth as she pulls away and sits back down. While she whispers to Shiro to try and fill him in on why he was so rudely awakened all you can think about is why Lance could possibly cover your mouth like that. What noises he could be causing that he’d be trying to silence.

He’s also still staring at you and that’s not helping the warmth traveling down your body.

“Maybe we should stop playing?” Lance offers.

Hunk and the Alteans look slightly disappointed as if they’re only now getting into the game. Pidge is still sitting crouched in a ball with her head on the ground stifling her giggles.

So you shrug, “Never have I ever…” God everything in you wants to say something inappropriate and make Lance blush again but you can’t think of anything good. Then Lance taps his fingers on the floor, a sign that he’s impatient for some reason. You wonder why if he was trying to end the game.

Ugh his fingers.

Ugh his face.

Ugh his mouth.

It’s just insanely hot in this room.

You sigh, you’ll go for bitter and lonely instead, “Never have I ever made out with anyone before.”

Allura and Coran take their drinks nearly immediately. Hunk raises his cup then stops and asks, “define ‘made out’? Like are we talking kissing with tongues or like…getting handsy?”

Pidge is back up and nodding, “Yeah! Which is it?”

You glance at her, a fuzzy thought in your head, “Why would it matter to you Pidge? You’ve never kissed a guy.”

The girl nodded, “But you didn’t say guy you said anyone. And I have made out with girls. For science.”

You groan quietly before flopping onto the nearest thing, “Damn even Pidge has gotten more than me.”

You don’t notice Lance take his drink but you’re fully aware he did. The memory of the very pretty alien from a couple months ago actually makes your chest tight and you feel utterly miserable.

Then there is an arm around your shoulders.

And you realize you slouched onto Lance’s chest.

And his face is so beautifully pink.

And his pupils are huge.

And god if he isn’t the most gorgeous human.

That flush gives you new life.

That arm around your shoulders is too encouraging.

Lance offers you a smile and you feel the grin spread on your face, “You wanna fix that for me Lance?” You make sure your voice is low and sultry as the words leave your tongue and your eyes are half lidded as you stare up at the marksman.

You can physically feel his heartbeat increase its speed from your proximity to his chest.

Lance croaks, “Wasn’t there like- supposed to be cake? And gift giving? I think we got a little carried away with the drinking you know like. We should totally call it a night. Shouldn’t we? Anyone?!”

At this you roll your eyes and pull away form him, sitting up straight and reaching for your cup.

Lance eyes this motion and reaches for it at the same time that you do. His limbs are longer and you can’t help but be distracted by the stretch of tan skin so he gets there before you.

He immediately takes a quick gulp of it before thinking better of it and passing the cup down to Hunk, “You or Allura or Coran I dunno who I don’t care as long as it’s finished and it’s not in Keith.”

“Do you wanna be in Keith?” Pidge snorts.

Allura gasps and Hunk almost drops the stolen drink. Lance appears to be having trouble breathing. Coran shrugs and Shiro appears to be very much asleep in this chaos.

You shrug, “I don’t think so Pidge. Pastey isn’t attractive ya’ know?”

Lance chokes.

Pidge continues her ridiculous snort/giggles, “Keeeeeith. We’ve been over this. Lance is full of shit and you’re super hot samurai man.”

You whine and you spare yourself a moment to consider that it isn’t attractive but you don’t care as much as you thought you would, “No, you said I was pretty.”

“Well you ARE.”

“But what if he doesn’t like pretty in guys? That’s not how they’re supposed to be.”

“Well screw that, Lance, tell him you like pretty and tell him you like him.”

You don’t even spare him a glance, so enveloped in your debate with Pidge, “You gotta let this goooo Pidgey.”

“Guys! Back me up here!” Pidge shouted, turning to the others in the circle who’s faces resemble those of innocent bystanders observing a train crash in motion.

You groan and finally glance back at Lance. Rather, you have to look at Lance because all you want to do is curl into his chest and you decide you’re going to. When you’re comfortable you realize that he’s breathing very heavily and that his lips are drawn tight and his cheeks are stained red and his eyes are so—so dark.

Gorgeous boy.

Judging by how his hand reaches up and grips yours almost vice tight as soon as you think this, you wonder if you made the mistake of saying it out loud.

His other hand is at your hip and his thumb is just barely brushing the skin under your shirt and it’s setting your body on fire.

“I.” Lance starts, low, clearly difficult for him to say. He swallows, and his grip tightens just a bit more. “I like. Pretty.”

You tilt your head and stare up at him, pressing into his body all the more though this involves tilting your waist so your hip juts out and is even easier for Lance’s hand to grasp.

You remember what he said earlier and you remember your questionable self confidence but between the whiskey and the way his hands shake but he wont let go you feel pretty damn desirable right then.

“I- I like…” Lance starts again.

“Cake!”

Suddenly Pidge bolts upright, dragging Hunk up with her. He downs a large gulp of your stolen cup before handing what’s left to Coran while Allura is casually picking Shiro up into her arms and the lot of them immediately make their way out of the common room. You also briefly consider how this leads them away from the cake they seemed to be looking for but you don’t care.

Lance seems to have snapped out of whatever haze he was in though, “I guess we’ll give you your presents tomorrow?”

You’re disappointed.

But not for too long because you’re sure Lance is attracted to you now. Not sure how he could be but you know he is. And you know how his hands feel excessively hot on your body and you really just can’t be bothered for too much.

“Can’t I have one now?” You mumble against his chest, scooching up just a bit to press your forehead directly into the crook of his neck, nosing his throat.

“Oh god. Keith.” Lance squeaks before reluctantly pulling his hand away from your waist and trying to pull his body back from yours enough to look you in the eyes. His face is practically glowing and you note with a bit of glee that he hasn’t released your hand, “I mean yeah sure I could totally give you your present except the space mice stole it so the second I find it I’ll give it to you okay?”

You make a low whimpering noise before pressing forward just enough to watch him squirm with your breath against his lips, “But Lance…I want you to give me something now…”

You press your free hand against his chest, holding yourself up on pure abdominal strength now as your fingers feather down his body toward—

“Oh boy! No. Nononono. Keith you don’t. You. Hahah. You really can’t handle your liquor well can you? Oh shit. Why the hell did they leave you with me fuck.” He nearly tosses you off at this point, getting to his feet and throwing his arms up in the air.

You immediately mourn the loss of his warmth despite your earlier desire to cool yourself off with a change of clothes. How did drinking make someone so damn conflicted?

No, that didn’t matter that much.

What mattered was Lance throwing you to the ground like that.

“Guess I took it too far huh…” You mumble to no one though you can feel tears prickling your eyes. “I was right earlier, you don’t want me…”

Lance hears this and immediately stops his ranting and looks down at you.

He opens his mouth to say something but then his eyes proceed to move up and down your body, pupils blown wide.

Why is Lance so conflicted? He can’t look at you like that and not want you right?

Lance takes a deep breath and finally says as much, “God, Keith, yes I want you. Of course I want you. Look at you! You’re- you’re so fucking—look at those thighs man I—can we just take a second to like mass worship them? Like just—just take my head and crush it with them please. Please I would die a happy man. And your hips are just so hot holy shit. And you have quite literally the best ass I’ve ever seen dude seeing you earlier today almost killed me I can’t my tombstone seriously could have read “Here lies Lance, dead of exposure to godly ass” can you imagine? My mother would die and find me in heaven para darme un cocotazo por ser tan estúpido a morir sin siquiera tocar la—”

Lance paused, possibly at the expression on your face as you blinked at him your mouth slightly open, unsure why you found his babble switching languages to be so endearing but you did. He slams his palm down onto his face and drags it down, pulling his lip in the process.

“And that’s just. Sexually,” he chokes out, “don’t even get me started on how just unbearably pretty you are. I think I’d literally give anything to wake up and see your beautiful fucking face every morning on my pillows. And shit, I should probably stop talking but I drank just a little too much you know and now it’s just—cono—it’s just gonna be word vomit everywhere.”

You chuckle.

He collapses onto his knees on the ground close to you, “Don’t DO that!”

You laugh again, “What?”

“That! Don’t—don’t chuckle or laugh or hell—don’t even speak. Don’t open your mouth when you’re laying there like that and I can’t—I shouldn’t—ah god fuck carajo puta madre you can’t just—”

His lips look freshly bitten, probably in his frustration.

You wish it had been you.

You bite your own lip to make up for it.

Lance screeches.

“Okay. Okay fuck this. Keith, I’m sending you to bed.”

“Yours I hope.”

“God- Why did you drIInK so MUchh?! Fucken—Do this when your sober?? Please??”

You sigh and allow yourself to lay completely on the floor, stretching in such a languid way you can hear Lance whimper. “I probably wont…” you start, “I’m too scared to do this kind of thing when I’m sober I think. You’re just so hot and so smooth and you flirt with everything…How could I possibly have caught your attention?” You can hear him about to rebuke that statement but you keep going, “I drank because you were drinking. Wanted to know why you were so into it. Then wanted to not think. About you. And how much I want to do awful things to you. And how it felt like you’d never really look at me like that. And—"

You hear rather than see Lance officially reach the end of his rope as he growls out a simple ‘Idiot’ before your being dragged up from the ground and into his arms. Your chest already feels so light at this simple motion, but Lance does one better and slams his lips onto yours and its like a dam breaking. The heat pooling low in your stomach shoots straight down and your hands immediately find his back to dig into his jacket as a sign that you will not be releasing him any time soon. You press yourself against him so hard you can feel his length pressed against yours and you chuckle to yourself at the idea that neither of you appear to have a problem with whiskey dick.

With the chuckle he groans and you take the opportunity to press your tongue against his mouth, testing the waters. You aren’t sure what you’re doing is right you’re just going with your gut.

And your gut is screaming at you that you physically can’t be close enough to this man.

Almost shyly he opens his mouth to you and you set to work pressing as deeply into him as you can, practically devouring him. It’s so desperate and so rushed and so strong you’re both moaning into the kiss in seconds.

He pushes you back down onto the ground back first, your legs come up to wrap around his waist and he uses gravity to help press himself harder against you.

You can’t breathe and you don’t really want to.

You grind your hips up against his and his hands find the hem of your shirt before his fingers can properly explore. His thumb brushes against your nipple and you gasp. His other hand finds your hip bone and grips you tightly again, just like earlier, and while the first hand continues its feathery ministrations your moans start to come out high, desperate, small, needy.

You’ve never been touched like this before and you never want it to stop. You don’t like how your voice sounds but he seems encouraged by it, based on how he takes control of the kiss, takes control of your writhing, just—takes complete control of you.

And that’s something you do like.

You like that a lot.

You feel so small and meek to him and you love that. You want to be small for him. You want to be compliant and desperate and needy. You want him to know wat he does to you. You want him to know how amazing he is. You want him to take care of you and make you feel…all of it.

He’s not letting you thrust your hips up to meet his anymore but he is steadily grinding down against you and your lips have parted so he can trail kisses down your neck and this is absolutely your wildest dream coming true all because you got a little flirty with a cup.

Lance freezes.

God damn it did you say that out loud again?!

His hands retreat and he lets himself flop down directly on top of you, careful not to rub your erections together too much anymore while he lets out he most ridiculous noise—something between a groan and a whimper and a cry, you really can’t tell.

Then he kisses your neck, once, lips closed, “Keith, Please.” He kisses it again. “Please, please, please,” Again. “I am begging you.” Again. You’re going to melt. Lance doesn’t need to beg. “Come find me when you’re sober.”

Oh.

He props himself up on his arms and stares directly into your face, his eyes are still heavily dilated, but he looks distraught. This is, quite possibly, the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

Pun intended.

You remember yourself.

“…But what if I forget?”

Lance’s face looks like he’s on the verge of a breakdown.

“What if this is your one chance to touch the butt and you’re gonna miss out?”

Lance whimpers again.

“What if…” You lean in close to his ear then, “What if… I forget this bonding moment.”

And just before he shrieks in outrage you run your tongue over the shell of his ear causing said shriek to come out in a ridiculous high pitched stutter.

“No though seriously, this is a concern, you’ll probably have to remind me.”

…

When you finally stand up—really stand up for the first time since the gang started playing never have I ever—you are immediately assaulted with vertigo and the whiskey now feels like a great big rock in the pit of your stomach. Lance’s arms are around you instantly and he works diligently to steady you as the two of you make your vaguely stumbling trek to your rooms.

You need to pee.

You need to pee holy crap do you seriously need to pee.

You’re glad the need to vomit has disappeared since Lance steadied you but wowwy has your bladder always been the size of a dime because that’s what it feels like.

You make it to Lance’s door first and purely on impulse to get to the closest restroom the fastest you place your hand on the door pad. Lance flails and attempts to catch you as you break away and make a bee line straight for his restroom.

When the door is shut and you’re sighing in relief you can vaguely hear Lance laughing.

God he just. Makes you happy.

Does the night really have to end?

You finish up, wash your hands, look at yourself in the mirror…

Your shirt is a little wrinkle and your hair is a little messy but generally you look normal.

You think about Lance and his ridiculous red face and the not subtle at all tent he’d been pitching their entire walk and it makes you giggle.

He’s perfect. He’s a perfect boy. He wasn’t even taking advantage of you despite how badly you wanted him to. Despite how you had probably already taken advantage of him.

It wasn’t like he was entirely sober. Sure, he seemed to have a way higher tolerance for it but still. He was drunk enough to babble that should mean something.

You should apologize.

You fucked up.

What if—

“Keith? You alright in there?”

You bite your lip but make your way out of the bathroom anyway.

Lance is sitting on his bed waiting for you, waiting to walk you to your own room. He looks so soft and so kind and so understanding. And you’re the son of a bitch who teased the hell out of him.

He ushers the two of you out and casually holds your hand, intertwining your fingers for the four foot walk from his door to your door.

When your door opens you panic.

“I’m sorry.”

Lance’s brows furrow as he studies you, “…For what.”

“For this. All of this.” You bite out, angry with yourself.

The boy you adore looks like he’s just been struck in the face, “Y-you…regret—”

Hold on no. No. Nonononono that is not what you mean that’s—

You lean forward and pop a simple chaste kiss on his lips and as you pull away you say you’re sorry again because that probably defeats the purpose.

“I don’t regret kissing you or anything like that I’ve wanted to kiss you for—well for a really long time. I just. I’m drunk. And you’re drunk. And I—”

Lance’s face is softening as he reaches out and grazes his hand over your cheek.

“Did I take advantage of you?” You finally manage.

Lance’s hand jerks to a stop before the taller boy smiles for a second and then starts to laugh. Then he lets his hand glide to your chin, tilts your face up, and kisses you again.

This one is longer than the last by a great deal, but it’s so much softer and you feel like your heart my burst, one hand stuck in Lance’s while the other is frozen in a loose fist between your chests.

When you part it’s only a couple inches as Lance is leaning his forehead against yours and his smile is still there looking perfect as always.

Then he says, “I kissed you first, Keith. And sure. It’s…pretty bad.” He chuckles lightly, clearly embarrassed, “But you definitely didn’t do anything wrong okay?”

He then motions for you to go inside.

“Go hop into bed, I’ll be right back with a glass of water.”

You do as your told, careful of the little purple hippo from earlier who still needs to be repaired at some point but your drunk self has decided it’s adorable and squishy and you are going to hug it until Lance returns.

So when Lance does walk in and finds you laying on your bed holding the hippo high above your head and shaking it around like it was in the middle of something you aren’t as embarrassed as you should be.

Especially when all Lance can do is babble about how positively adorable you are and how he’s never going to be able to sleep again knowing that there was this side to his Keith and—

That water looks so good.

You put the hippo down and take the cup. Lance sits down next to you and reaches for the hippo, casually giving it a once over before sighing over it’s battered arm.

“I guess it’s a Shiro hippo now. Totally not what I was going for.”

You throat is happier now, so you turn to look at him like he’s crazy, “What you were going for? You made this?”

Lance gives you an expression like he’s been caught doing something wrong and then bashfully turns away, dropping the hippo between the two of you.

“Yeah well. I wanted to try something. And when I found out your birthday was coming I maybe asked around…and yeah. Yeah I made that tiny purple monstrosity I’m sorry. The material is all wrong, I haven’t sewn in like six years and now thank to the mice he’s all damaged.”

You smack him lightly in the arm before grabbing the hippo and squishing it to your chest.

“No he’s perfect, shut up.” A bit of stuffing falls out of his arm as if to verify this.

Lance chuckles.

“I didn’t even get to wrap it…”

“Then we’re even.” You respond, thinking about how he saw you naked again.

“What?”

“What?”

The other boy blinks a couple times before finally getting to his feet, “Yeah. Okay then. I should probably get going now.”

He leans over to brush your hair behind your ear, placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, “Goodnight Keith.”

“G—Good—no wait.”

You really didn’t want this evening to end. You wanted it to bleed into tomorrow. And the rest of the week. And the rest of the month. And the rest of your life. You wanted to wake up in the morning and see the gorgeous boy in your bed and fine, fair, if you couldn’t really touch him but just—

“God, how do you call me that with a straight face…” Lance says, his face bright pink again.

You groan, because of course you were saying all of that out loud.

“Please stay.”

Lance is quiet for a few seconds.

You persist.

“It’s my birthday, please stay with me.”

Lance grins, “Oh? Using the birthday card?”

You nod and scoot back on the bed, tapping the empty space next to you.

He mumbles absently about pajamas as he glances at the door but at the sound of another whine from your throat his entire body seems to soften and relax, and he crawls into bed with you.

You curl up as close to him as you dare, the hippo still pressed to your chest. To your immense joy he reaches over and pulls you just a little closer before he ducks his head into your hair and breathes deeply.

He chuckles as a thought seems to occur to him and nuzzles the top of your head.

“Please don’t forget our bonding moment!” He says dramatically, and as you laugh he continues much softer, “So not a bad birthday, right?”