#flustered keith

Hunk cocks his head. “In what way?”

“They’re quite fixated on personal appearances. They have been known to refuse alliances in the past when diplomats don’t meet their… aesthetic expectations.”

Before Keith can make a slightly mean joke about keeping Shiro on the castle, then (it’s been too long since he has been humbled), Lance snorts. Without bothering to look up from his doodling, half slumped over his station on the bridge, he says, “Well, we better send Keefers. Only way we’ll get a guaranteed alliance.”

“Okay, asshole, real funn — wait.” Keith blinks. That’s not the insult he thought it was. “Did you just — are you flirting with me?”

Lance flicks brown eyes up to meet his, eyebrows raised, amused smirk on his face. “Have been for a year now, thanks for noticing.”

Keith’s jaw drops. He feels a blush climbing up his neck like he’s a fuckin’ kettle, boiling from the bottom up, because what.

“What.”

“Keith.” The rampant redness on Keith’s face must give Lance pause, because he finally turns his whole attention towards him, straightening up from his seat and facing him head on. “I thought you were just ignoring me. You’re telling me your dumb ass has just been — what, completely oblivious to it?”

“I’m not obvious,” Keith argues, strained. He’s well aware of the snickering behind him and chooses to ignore it. “Usually your flirting is horrible and obnoxious and gets you rightfully punched, so excuse me for not noticing.” He waits a beat, and then tacks on, “Or tied to a tree.”

He’s gratified to see Lance’s smug demeanour crack at the mention of the Nyma incident.

“That was four years ago, dipstick. I was seventeen. It doesn’t take away from the fact that you are so thick headed that you are incapable of taking a hint. Did you think I kept finding reasons to be shirtless around you for fun?”

Keith sputters. He had noticed that Lance was shirtless around him an awful lot, but in his defence he was putting his braincells more towards memorizing a broad back and a glittering belly piercing rather than, like, puzzling out why the fuck Lance wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“I thought you were — hot, or something!”

Lance grins wolfishly. “You think I’m hot?”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Is that what you want to see?”

Keith makes a hoarse screeching noise in the back of his throat. It is echoed behind him, by all of his friends, actually, but for entirely different reasons, and he hates them all and they are all written out of his will.

Lance slowly stands from his seat, soundlessly stalking over to where Keith stands, leaning against a wall. Keith considers braining himself against a hard surface so he does not half to deal with Lance stupid sexy leer and sparkling eyes et cetera.

“‘Cause if it is,” Lance murmurs, placing a hand next to Keith’s head and leaning in close, “all you had to do was ask, baby.”

“I am going to kill you with fire,” Keith croaks.

Lance chuckles. “Sure, caliente.” He kisses Keith’s cheek and saunters back to his chair. Keith considers asking his lions to help him change his bayard into an anvil and chucking it at Lance’s face. It does not help his situation.

Lance starts listening to the song Mayores by Becky G and Bad Bunny.

Keith knows damn well what's going on in the song.

That is completely fine. Even though this is an NSFW account. I don’t mind writing fluff and such. Like I said, I’ll write anything with Klance! Thanks for requesting!

********

Lance was going to kill Keith. Right about now, they had nothing to do. No one was attacking, and they basically had a free day of training.

So, Lance thought he could trudge around in short, short shorts and Keith’s sweatshirt. Which went down to the top of his thighs and was a little baggy on him.

Pidge had been barking at Lance all day to put some pants on because he was going to kill Keith. To which Lance responded with “He loves it. See!” And then proceed to sit in his lap.

Keith’s face was permanently red. His flush going to the tip of his ears and feeling it in his chest. And honestly, Lance wasn’t enduring because of his sexiness-even though he is sexy-he was enduring because of how cute he was.

His hair was slightly tousled because he hadn’t been bothered to fix it. And Keith always liked seeing Lance in his clothes. All in all, Keith was a very weak man, for a very pretty blue-eyed Cuban.

“Awww, look Pidge. The big kitty-cat is flustered!”

Pidge cackled at that and took a picture of Keith’s flustered face.

“Don’t call me a kitty.”

Lance cooed and started playing with Keith’s hair. And even though Keith wouldn’t admit it. He purred at Lance’s touch. Pidge, of course, got video.

Eventually, the two boys fell asleep on the couch like that. Pidge snapping plenty of pictures for blackmail, and Hunk cooed at the cute scene laying out before him.

What a great day.

********

Keith can’t deal, lance is so bendy. I had no reference, I tried. Hands are still the devil

———

Lance smooths down the pleats of his new black skirt, trying to focus on how nice it feels and not the anxiety churning in his stomach.

It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s totally not going to make a fool of himself and then be forced to quit Voltron due to his own humiliation.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Hunk laments dramatically, poking at Lance’s lockpad like he’s itching to take a screwdriver to it. “Keith is so whipped for you that it’s actually embarrassing. I dunno why you’re worrying about anything.”

“The person who’s fault this is doesn’t get an opinion,” Lance says pointedly. He glares at his best friend through the mirror, who only shrugs in defense.

“You don’t work through your shit unless you’re forced to. Remember the Garrison applications?”

Lance sighs. Hunk’s right, which is annoying. Lance had dreamed about becoming a pilot since he could think, basically, but as soon as he was old enough to fill out the forms, he chickened out. Worked himself up into a frenzy about not being good enough, and managed to convince himself not to bother. It was Hunk, aged eleven, who forged Lance’s application for him and sent it in with his own.

Lance does, unfortunately, need to be pushed into things he’s nervous about. That’s why he and Hunk are friends, even though Hunk is a horrible secret keeper.

“I still think you should be begging for my forgiveness,” Lance grumbles. He takes one last look in the mirror and can’t quite help a smile.

He does, if one were to think completely objectively, look fine as hell. Red is his colour, and damn any conflicting opinions to hell — the belly button piercing is pretty. The tramp stamp is a classy kind of trashy.

And the lipgloss Allura convinced him to get?

Damn. That’s all he has to say about that.

“Finally,” Hunk grouches when Lance turns to the door, but he’s grinning, and he keeps an encouraging hand on Lance’s shoulder the whole walk to the dining room.

“I think it’s really excellent that we’re doing this as we eat,” he says conversationally. “I’m looking forward to watching Keith forget how to use a spoon.”

Lance snorts. “Keith will not forget how to use a fuckin’ spoon, dorkbrain. Besides, he’s seen it all, remember?”

Hunk grins. “I do remember you telling me about the shower incident. Allura and I like to bring it up to each other randomly and laugh until we cry.”

Fortunately for Hunk, they make it to the doors before Lance can kick him for his insolence. Hunk half-yanks Lance through before he can talk himself out of it.

“Oh, no fucking way.” Pidge is the first to notice. She looks at Lance with wide, gleeful eyes, as if Lance has just informed her that her birthday comes twice this year. She looks at his midriff, then back at his face, and grins, adjusting her glasses. “I fucking love it here. Everything about my life is a gem.”

“I mean, we are fighting fascism,” Allura mumbles. She shoots Lance a smile and turns back to trying to sculpt the castle out of food goo (it is not going well, thus her stuck-out tongue and intense concentration). Lance tugs on her hair as he walks by, just to be a nuisance. She tries and fails to trip him.

“My, dear, you look wonderful!” Coran says. He beams so brightly at Lance that Lance can’t help but smile back, accepting the chair Coran pulls out for him — swallowing down the twinge of pain he gets when he remembers his siblings doing the same teasing gesture back home, whenever he dressed up for no reason, the twinge of pain he gets when his space family and his Earth family occupy the same space in his heart — and sitting carefully so as to not flare up his skirt.

“Thanks, Coran.”

He glances at the rest of the table. Shiro shoots him a wink and a thumbs up, and Hunk, who’s sat down next to Pidge, is openly sniggering.

Keith is completely frozen, spoon halfway to his mouth, goo sliding off of it.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance says. He hears the slight slyness in his voice, the nerves making butterflies turn in his stomach but kind of exciting him, too.

Keith opens his mouth, then closes it again, and does that several times before he finally makes himself speak.

“Hey,” he croaks out. Lance ducks his head slightly to hide his grin. “You, uh. You look — I like your —” he struggles to find his words and gives up for a moment, gesturing vaguely to Lance’s person.

Poorly-hidden giggles erupt from all over the table. Keith goes redder than his lion.

“You like my…?” Lance tries, well aware he’s fishing for compliments and beyond caring.

“All of it,” Keith says, a little helplessly. He’s undoubtedly embarrassed — obviously — but his eyes are determined, and his voice is sincere. He takes a deep breath and then nods once to himself, like he’s solidifying a decision.

“All of it,” he repeats, voice steadier than before.

Lance’s cheeks start to hurt. “Thank you.”

Keith nods again, ears still red, and turns back to his goo. He scarfs his food down, not looking up, and practically runs to the sink when he’s done, washing his dish at lightspeed and rushing out the doors with a hasty wave and excuse.

“Oh, he’s going to be so embarrassing for the next few weeks,” Shiro says wistfully. He turns to Lance with the fondest expression. “Gold star for you, kiddo. Please continue to make my week.”

Lance thinks to the giant bag of clothes he and Allura brought back from the mall, and how absolutely none of them cover his midriff. He smirks slightly to himself

“Will do, Team Leader.”

Keith/Lance (Voltron), Shiro & Lance (Voltron), Shiro & Keith (Voltron), Getting Together, Fluff & Humour, 3.5k Words

Summary: Lance is pulling out all the stops to seduce Keith. Shiro is beyond amused, and as always a whore for drama.

@sleepdeprivedflower and I did an art exchange, and she asked for some dorky klance shenanigans with a side of broganes!

———

“Oh, wow, your hands are huge. I don’t know how I missed it, ha.”

Shiro whips his head up from where he was resting against the wall. No way. No way is someone on this good Christian castleship employing whore tactics of flirting.

“I mean, of course you had that growth spurt,” Lance continues. He’s giggling and everything, batting his eyelashes up at Keith from where he’s measuring their hands together, holy shit. “I guess I just never realised how big you really got. It’s not a bad thing, though, don’t worry. It’s cool.”

Shiro gapes at the two of them. Lance has one leg bent at the knee a little, and Shiro knows if the boy’s hair was longer he’d be twirling it around his finger. The kid’s fuckin’ blatant.

And it’s working, Lord God above. Keith is red. Like, flaming. His face is frozen, he almost looked constipated. One of his hands is still held captive by Lance, but the other is clenched so tightly around his bayard that his knuckles are completely white and bloodless.

Holy shit.

Look. Shiro will admit that he was a bit of a whore back in the day. Just a tad. He got around, one could say. And yeah, he flirted here and there. He was well versed in the art of batting his eyelashes and telling a man he was just sooo big and handsome, wow, just look at you –

Point is, he recognises what Lance is doing. Obviously. When the hardhead you’re attempting to seduce has failed to pick up on your incredibly obvious signals and has yet to make a move, you get a little desperate. A little showy, a little obvious. Shiro’s just shocked to see such bullshit happen right in front of his very eyes. And to his little brother, no less.

He scrambles to grab his phone, opening the notes app to write down some quick observations. This is a fucken’ investigation, now, okay? Detective-level shit. Here’s what he knows:

Keith and Lance have had the hots for each other for literally so long that it’s become annoying.

Lance has been passively flirting with Keith, shooting cheesy pickup lines and other stuff like that, for months.

It has gotten him nowhere.

Keith can be dense, and also has never had a boyfriend before.

Lance has clearly gotten frustrated enough that he’s done being subtle even a little bit.

Here’s the thing. When Adam’s dense ass continued to be oblivious to Shiro’s advances, back in the day, Shiro had gotten just as frustrated as Lance, pulling out all the stops. It had only taken the man a week to snap, and Shiro had gotten the fucking of his life and the man of his dreams. It was great. But Keith? Keith is at least three times more stubborn than Adam. Poor Lance has his work cut out for him, that’s for damn certain.

Shiro puts his phone away, notes gathered, and watches the disasters in question. He smirks, resisting the urge to rub his hands together like an actual supervillain. Hoo-boy. This is going to be excellent.

—

Shiro’s just about to go to bed when there’s a sharp knock on his door. He sighs, looking at his bed mournfully. So close.

Maybe he can pretend he’s asleep?

The knock comes again, and Shiro rolls his eyes, schooling his expression into neutral before walking over to the door. Apparently not.

“Lance,” Shiro greets, “hey. Come in.” He opens the door and Lance does not hesitate to stride in. Shiro closes the door, leaning against it. He looks at Lance with quiet amusement. The Cuban is tense, muttering in Spanish and avoiding Shiro’s gaze.

Fuck yes. Drama time.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asks pleasantly, knowing full well he’s being a cock. He knows exactly why Lance is here, and he’s enjoying drawing this out. He thought he was only going to see Keith lose his shit, but it appears that he gets to witness both sides of team Sexual Frustration go batty. Excellent.

Lance gives him a deadpan look, seeing right past the placid tone. “You know why I’m here.”

“Doesn’t hurt to get some clarification,” Shiro says, barely holding back a smirk. Lance glares harder, but eventually sighs, evidently deciding he wants Shiro’s help more than he wants to preserve his dignity.

“I need some advice,” Lance admits reluctantly, “of the seduction kind.”

This time, Shiro doesn’t hold the smirk back. “I see. Would this have anything to do with our resident Galran hothead?”

“Mr. Dense & Oblivious? Yeah. Unfortunately.”

Shiro laughs, shaking his head. “I dunno what you need me for. You seemed to have everything handled pretty well in training today. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Keith go so red.”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to smirk. “Yeah, that was great.” His smirk drops, replaced by a look of annoyance. “But it didn’t work. I’ve done that before, and it worked immediately! Zero problems. And I laid it on thick. I don’t know why I can’t get through to him.”

Shiro shoots Lance and exasperated look. “C’mon, Lance. You know how Keith is.”

Lance’s expression turns all romantic and moon-eyed, Shiro notices gleefully. Oh, this is wonderful. This is so embarrassing for them. And Shiro gets to witness all of it.

“Yeah,” Lance sighs, “impulsive until it comes to people he cares about. Then he thinks and overthinks.”

Despite himself, Shiro smiles a little too. His brother is a huge softie — as much as he loves to run headfirst into trouble, as soon as others are involved, it’s like he suddenly grows the ability to think ahead. He’s very protective of his loved ones. It’s sweet.

“Exactly. So if you want him to crack, and, from his perspective, risk his friendship with you…”

Lance deflates. “I’m gonna have to try way harder.”

“And that’s the understatement of the century,” Shiro snorts. “It’ll take you a month of this, at least.”

And boy do those words appear to be the wrong thing to say. Lance rears back, eyebrow high and judgemental.

“Excuse you,” he says, hands on his hips. “I absolutely do not need a whole-ass month. I’ll be surprised if I need more than two weeks.”

Shiro laughs, opening his mouth to argue, but pauses. “Okay, as much fun as I was having being a bitch, I think I’ll draw the line at betting when you’ll successfully seduce my brother. That feels mean.”

Lance rolls his eyes for what has to be the fifth time in the twenty short minutes they’ve been having this conversation. Shiro considers making a ‘careful or your eyes will get stuck’ comment, but he’s currently being the Cool Older Brother™, and isn’t super interested in being demoted to grandpa, so he holds his tongue.

“C’mon, Shiro, hop off the high horse. It’s not like I’m setting Keith up to get his heart broken, or anything. I’m in love with the asshole. I’m just trying to get the ball rolling this way, because nothing else seems to be working.”

Shiro chokes on his own spit a little. “Sorry. I think I misheard. What was that?”

“Oh, don’t act all surprised,” Lance chides. “I think I’m pretty obvious about it.”

“I knew you liked him, but I didn’t know you were in love with him!” Shiro exclaims.

Lance shrugs, but he’s avoiding Shiro’s gaze. “He’s very charming.”

Shiro squints at him. “You are very casual about this,” he declares after a moment of judgemental staring. “Where’s the Lance who had a gay crisis and hid in his room for three days after panic-coming out to everyone in the middle of training?”

“...He had another crisis three days ago. I’ve made my peace with it now.”

Shiro grins, moving closer to ruffle Lance’s hair (much to his annoyance).

“I see. Well, in that case, I’ll take you up on that bet, Lance. There is no possible way you're gonna get my stubborn-ass brother to crack in less than a month.”

Lance grins, eyes devious and sharp. “Oh, you’re so on.”

—

Shiro has to hide a grin in his cup when Lance walks in to breakfast wearing Keith’s dorky cropped jacket, because his brother’s face is hilarious. There are a couple raised eyebrows from the rest of the team, as well, because last they checked the sleeves of Keith’s jacket were certainly not big enough to give Lance literal sweater paws.

“Where did you –” Keith’s voice cracks so many times that even Shiro, in all his amusement, starts to pity him (not Pidge. Pidge laughs and points at him.) “Uh. Where’d you get that jacket?” he finally forces out.

Lance smiles serenely, but Shiro isn’t fooled. He sees the mischief in his eyes.

Oooh, this kid is good.

“Oh, you know. I haven’t seen you wear it in a while, so I was trying to figure out why. I realised it’s too small for you, now, so I made some adjustments! It should fit you now.”

Keith blinks, and a besotted smile spreads on his face. Shiro meets Hunk’s deadpan look and they both roll their eyes in tandem.

“That’s really nice of you, Lance. Thanks.”

Lance smiles at Keith again, and makes his way to his seat. He grabs some space bacon and a bowl of goo, sitting in his usual spot right next to Keith. Shiro notices he subtly scooches his chair closer to Keith. Just the smallest amount, but still. Calculated.

“Can I, um.” Keith clears his throat. “Can I… have the jacket?”

Lance sighs, making his eyes all big and round and siccing them on poor Keith’s unprepared self. “Oh, I guess so,” he pouts. “Your clothes are just so comfortable. I was hoping to wear it for a bit longer, but if you need it back —”

“No!”

Everyone startles a little at Keith’s sudden yell, except for Shiro and Hunk who have been watching the exchange with interest.

“No, you can keep it,” Keith adds hastily. His face is a little blotchy. “It’s fine. Totally fine.”

Shiro nudges Hunk, who leans in. “Watch,” Shiro whispers, “Keith’s about to lose it.”

Lance grins at Keith, all sunny and bright, and leans in to peck Keith on the cheek.

The glass Keith was holding explodes into thousands of little shards, just as Keith turns scarlet.

“I’m gonna — gotta go clean — maybe I should — goodbye,” Keith stutters, and rushes out the door.

Lance huffs, scowling at his bowl of food goo.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters.

Shiro laughs at him.

—

To Lance’s credit, even Shiro’s surprised the next try doesn’t work.

They’re in the training room again, nearing the end of a simulation. Everyone’s a little tired and sweaty, as they’re rapidly approaching hour five of training and everyone’s kind of ready to wrap it up.

Lance makes the final shot, nailing a gladiator bot between the eyes and clearing the level. Shiro calls for a hydration break, sending everyone to the mini-fridge to grab a water pouch and chill out for a bit. Pidge and Hunk pair up, as per usual, idly discussing one of their projects but mostly just catching their breaths. Shiro makes his way over to Allura, handing her a water pouch. She accepts it gratefully, shooting him a smile as she does some stretches. Lance is a toss-up – he rarely sits with the same person twice in a row, preferring instead to spend time with different people every day or spend a couple minutes with everyone, like the social butterfly he is.

Today, though, he sits with Keith, as he has been doing for the past week or so. Allura inclines her head at the two, raising a questioning eyebrow at Shiro.

“Would you happen to know anything about that?”

Shiro shrugs, smirking. “I know enough to be sure that I will be treating whatever comes next as my own personal soap opera.”

“I see,” Allura snorts. “Alteans were not so complicated in their courting. I have never witnessed such foolishness before – I must admit, it truly is amusing.”

“Yeah, humans are messy,” Shiro agrees. “But these two are particularly disastrous. They’re just as stubborn as each other, so. Heaven forbid they communicate or something.”

“Mhm.”

The two watch on in comfortable silence, sipping their water and stretching lazily. It really is like a soap opera. Keith and Lance are talking quietly enough that neither Shiro or Allura can really hear, but both boys are so naturally expressive that it isn’t hard to infer the conversation. Lance is gesturing wildly, hands waving about, and Shiro’s lip-reading isn’t excellent but he’s pretty certain he sees Lance make several goofy sound effects. Keith is laughing and smiling and eating it right up, feeding into Lance’s energy.

After a few minutes the story must end, and both Keith and Lance settle into the same comfortable silence that Shiro and Allura are in, only with sexual tension.

After a few minutes, Shiro can physically see the switch turn in Lance’s face — he goes from excited and animated to devious in a nanosecond. Shiro scrambles to his feet, startling Allura.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have to get closer,” Shiro hisses.

“Why?” she asks incredulously.

“I know that look Lance is getting,” Shiro responds as they speed over to a spot where they can hear the boys better. “He’s about to make this soap opera 300% more interesting.”

Allura grins, and the two settle down again about ten or so feet behind the red and blue paladins.

“– so I guess I can’t call you Mullet anymore, huh?” Lance is saying. He’s much closer to Keith than he was before; kneeling right in front of him. Their faces can’t be more than eight inches apart.

“Guess not,” Keith says quietly. Breathlessly.

Lance hums, tilting his head. “I bet you still use 2-in-1 shampoo,” he teases, and Shiro knows exactly where this is going.

Some of the hesitance leaves Keith’s posture, and he leans forward a bit. They have this argument frequently. “It’s efficient!” he argues.

“It’s a travesty, is what it is. You’re gonna ruin your hair like that. I wonder –” Lance reaches forward, gently brushing his fingers through Keith’s fringe. Keith goes rigid, and Shiro can imagine his heartbeat thundering. “Oh, wow. It is soft, even without the conditioner.”

Keith makes an aborted, throaty noise, eyes closed and fists clenched. The poor bastard looks like he’s about to combust.

Shiro and Allura exchange smirks. Whipped.

Keith clears his throat, several times, and Lance pulls away with the tiniest smile on his face.

“Cute,” he murmurs, then sits back on his heels, re-establishing the space between them. He looks at Keith expectantly, and his thoughts could not be more clear: your turn, Keith.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Keith stands up, brushing off his pants. “We should get back to training,” he says, voice a little strangled. He holds out his hand for Lance to grab, and Lance sighs heavily before taking it and getting pulled to his feet.

Shiro and Allura look at each other, wide-eyed and incredulous.

“Yikes,” Shiro mutters.

“Yikes is correct,” Allura agrees.

—

On week three, Shiro is pretty sure he’s going to win that bet. Lance has pulled all the stops. He’s done the hand thing, the jacket thing, the oh-you’re-so-strong-I-bet-you-can-lift-me-up thing, on and on. Once Shiro even watched him climb right over Keith’s lap to get a remote. Keith had been flustered, but the attempt had been fruitless. Honestly, Shiro was starting to feel bad for him.

It wasn’t like Keith didn’t actually like Lance. He still came to Shiro’s room every night, like clockwork, to vent and moan and screech and swoon about the boy in blue and his pretty eyes and face and legs and everything about him is just so wonderful, Shiro, even when he’s pissing me off. And I swear he’s trying to kill me, Shiro, he must be, I swear I can’t even think around him sometimes –

Yeah. It’s as bad as it sounds. Sometimes Shiro just wants to shake him by the shoulders and drill it into his head that you need to go for it, your stubborn dork, Lance is so down bad for you it’s ridiculous, just please take that one step because for whatever reason Lance is just as stubborn as you are and refuses to make the step himself.

But, you know. He has a bet to win, so. Maybe he’ll knock some sense into Keith after the month is up.

The gist of the matter is that Shiro has watched Keith out-stubborn Lance for three weeks now. He genuinely believes that Lance is going to lose, and tonight’s scheme is no exception.

Lance has set the stage incredibly well. Everyone’s all cozied up for movie night, nestled in close with dozens of pillows and blankets strewn all about. Lance had quietly seated himself next to Keith, and it wasn’t even out of the ordinary, so no one bat an eye.

Well. Shiro did. But that’s because he is completely invested, at this point. He is going to see this thing through, dammit.

But anyway. Lance is wrapped up in at least 5 blankets (that boy is always cold. Seriously. Always. He claims it’s because the castle is constantly frigid and his ‘Cuban blood’ is not used to that kind of cold, but Coran told Shiro that Lance is just anaemic and has bad circulation. Go figure). He’s scooching closer to Keith by the second. Shiro resists the urge to turn down the volume of the movie they’re watching so he can hear the boys better, settling for simply straining his ears.

“Sorry,” Lance whispers, finally getting close enough to lean on Keith. “I’m just – wicked cold. And you’re basically a human furnace.”

Surprisingly, Keith doesn’t freeze up this time, or even get flustered. All he does is lift his arms so Lance can curl up under it, and smiles softly.

“Half-human furnace,” he teases, just as subdued.

Lance snorts, laying his head on Keith’s shoulder. “Half or not, you’re the hottest person here. In more ways than one.” He shoots Keith a wink, but Keith only rolls his eyes, smiling.

Hm. He seems much more comfortable with this quiet flirting, and it does not escape Lance’s notice.

Lance shoots Keith one more smile, and snuggles deeper into him, turning his attention to the movie.

Shiro smiles, soft this time instead of smug. Lance may not win their silly little bet, but he will be winning Keith’s heart. Of this, Shiro is certain.

—

The morning of the day before Lance’s month is up, he and Keith stroll into the kitchen holding hands. Both have hickeys straight-up littering their necks.

“No!” Shiro yells, barely restraining himself from slamming his hands on the table. “Fuck! Come on, Keith! You couldn’t hold out one more day? One?”

Lance winks at him, and Keith smirks, clearly having been let in on the whole ordeal.

“I honestly wanted to date Lance faster just to spite you,” he says. Shiro scowls at him.

“One fucking day,” he grumbles, but can’t bring himself to be too angry. He’s happy for the losers, after all.

“So what finally did it?” Allura, who knows all about the bet because Shiro can’t help himself, asks.

Lance shrugs. “Turns out honest communication goes a long way. I just told him I like him.”

Nothing could prepare Shiro for the volume of the scream Hunk lets out.

“Six! Fucking! Years!” he bellows, stalking towards his best friend.

Lance shrieks and hides behind Keith, who looks very amused.

“I have been fucking begging you to talk to Keith for six years! Over half a fucking decade! Half a fucking decade I have put up with the most down bad, horniest, mooniest commentary in the world!” His voice goes high and mocking, and he bats his eyelashes obnoxiously. “Oh, Hunk, he’s so pretty and mysterious. Oh, Hunk, he’s sooooo talented. Oh, Hunk, his smile is just breathtaking. Oh, Hunk, that growth spurt made him giant, god, his biceps are as big as yours. I want him to step on me. Six years of this! Six years of enduring this pain!”

Keith cranes his head to the side, raising an eyebrow at his (!!) boyfriend. “Seriously? Did you actually say all that?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you aren’t just as bad, Keith,” Pidge drawls. “I’ve heard more about Lance’s legs than any person should ever have to. Ever.”

That shuts Keith right up, making him go as red as his lion.

Hunk huffs. “You’re lucky I’m so happy for you, you fuckin’ punk, or I’d kill you.”

“I love you! Please don’t murder me!” Lance squeaks, still hiding behind Keith.

Hunk rolls his eyes, but walks over and pulls the couple into a bear hug so strong it lifts them both off the ground. Both reciprocate happily.

“I want in on the affection!” Coran calls, rushing over to join the hug. Pidge, Allura, and SHiro all look at each other and shrug, rushing forward to join them too.

Soon all seven of them are giggling, sharing in the joy of the couple.