You say oneshot but I have a HS au in the works, so consider this a preview of that :D
EDIT: The paragraph formatting was off and I just noticed, so that's fixed now
Lance spent his entire day at school dreading the end of last period. He kept looking at the clock, willing it to slow down. But every time he glanced, it seemed to have sped up instead.
When the last bell finally rang, Lance stood up from his seat, still not mentally prepared for the walk of shame to the math classroom. He slung his bag over his shoulder, said emotional goodbyes to his best friends Hunk and Pidge, and set off.
It was just his luck that detention was being held in Iverson’s class, which was on the opposite end of the hallway from Lance’s final period. The whole school would see him going to detention. This was all Keith's fault.
“Hey, wait up.”
Speak of the devil. “What do you want?” Lance bit out. He refused to slow his pace even as his heart skipped a beat at the sound of the gravelly voice.
“I have detention with you, remember?” Keith fell into step beside him, letting their hands brush. When Lance didn't pull away, Keith tentatively took a hold of his fingers.
Lance peeked at him to find his expression mostly neutral except for the tiniest upward quirk to his mouth. “Keith,” he whispered. “Everyone’s watching.”
“You telling me to let go?” Keith sounded way too smug for comfort.
Lance huffed but didn't answer. They'd been doing this for a while now—teasing, flirting, going around each other without actually taking a step closer. Lance wasn't even sure if it was flirting in the first place.
Just then, as they passed one of the lesser used stairwells, Keith opened the door and pulled him inside. Lance found himself with his back against the wall, facing one of Keith's rare smiles—except that they'd gotten less rare ever since the two of them had started hanging out more. Lance tried his best to hold back a grin of his own; he wasn't supposed to be encouraging Keith's impulsivity. He was the impulse control in this friendship…relationship?…whatever.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Keith shrugged. And was it just Lance or did that come out much more flirty than necessary?
“I'm already in trouble because of you,” he accused, managing to put some bite behind the words.
“We’ve already got detention, what else could happen?”
Lance glared at him.
“I'm sorry,” Keith said, taking a step closer, but there was still mischief in his eyes and Lance could feel his face heating up.
“Why'd you splash that paint on me?” he demanded, still salty over getting detention for it.
Keith raised an eyebrow. “You started it. I think it was because it was art class and you were bored.”
“I discreetly painted a cat face on your hand,” Lance exclaimed. “You splashed a handful of paint on my face!”
“Ah yeah, that was because you were being really cute.”
Lance gave up trying not to smile. He pushed Keith away playfully and reached for the door. “If we're late to detention we’ll get more of it and I am not doing this again. My mom’s face when she heard,” he shook his head as he led the way back out into the hallway, “she was so disappointed.”
“Okay I really am sorry about that.”
They got to Iverson's room just in time. He was settling in at his desk when they took their seats near the back of the room, Lance behind Keith.
“So you losers have to stay late because you've behaved irresponsibly,” Iverson barked, peering out at them with his one good eye. “I'm only getting paid to sit here, so that's what I'm gonna do. So just do homework or study, and don't bother me.”
Keith took out a notebook to doodle in. Lance crossed his arms on the desk and rested his head on them, sighing. He was already bored. After a while, he took out his binder, flipped to a blank page and tore off a corner. ‘Your hair looks stupid from the back :P’ he scribbled, folding it and sticking into Keith's hood with a soft tug.
Keith reached back for it, chuckling when he read it, then pocketed it. A moment later, he dropped a scrap of paper back in his own hood.
Lance took it out and unfolded it.
passing notes in detention? tsk tsk
Lance smirked, turning it over and writing, ‘pot? kettle??’ He dropped it into the hood again.
Keith slid his next note directly onto Lance's desk; reaching into his hood every other second would get suspicious pretty fast.
Iverson's closed eye looks like a mouth
It took all of Lance's self-control not to snort out loud. ’how long have you been staring at it??’ he wrote back, reaching under his desk and slipping the note into Keith's hoodie pocket this time.
By the time the next bell rang signaling the end of detention, Keith's pockets were overflowing with slips of torn looseleaf paper, as was the inside of Lance’s desk. Lance swept the notes into his bag, telling himself he'd throw them out but knowing he'd just read them again later.
“Lance.”
Lance looked up to see the principal calling out to him from the doorway. “I'll catch you later,” he muttered to Keith, walking up to her as Keith and the rest of the students filed out. “Hi, mom,” he greeted her sheepishly.
“Lance,” she said, in that stern but reasonable voice of hers. “He's gotten you into detention, and you're still hanging out with him?”
“It wasn't his fault!”
“Lance.” The finality in her tone already stung. “He's a bad influence!” She sighed, adding more softly, “You have big dreams. You're not going to get into that aerospace engineering program you've been after if you spend your time with troublemakers.”
“Mom, you can't say stuff like that about your students,” he protested.
She half-smiled at that. “At least I didn't call him a delinquent.”
Lance groaned.
“What? He's the one with tattoos already at age seventeen, dressing in leather and growing out his hair.”
“He's a good guy. And it's one tattoo.” And Lance was discovering he had kind of a thing for bad boys with good hearts. Or maybe it was just one good-hearted bad boy in particular.
“I never said he wasn't. But Lance, these are your formative years. If you're really serious about your goals, you need to get your priorities in order.”
Lance’s retort died on his tongue because over his mom's shoulder he saw a flash of leather and black hair as Keith walked away from his locker—which was just next to the doorway where Lance and his mom were talking—toward the exit.
He couldn't explain to her what it was about that boy that drew him in like a moth to a flame. But he hoped he could show her that he had room for both Keith and his career goals in his life.
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My @voltronvalentinesexchange gift for @crystalklances You had some really awesome prompts, and my idea got a little ahead of me, so this is the opening to what will be an ongoing story. I hope you like what’s going on so far ;)
Happy Valentine’s Day Robin!
Summary: Lance’s crazy ex is back in town, and what better way to get her to leave him alone than to have her think he’s dating someone else? Enter Keith, who’s taken on the brave role of Lance’s fake boyfriend for a week.
Words: ~3k
Rating: G
Love’s reach extends far and wide. Lance learned that the hard way, which was why he was sitting in the bleachers waiting for basketball practice to end. He’d been done with his classes for hours now and could’ve been chilling at home if it wasn’t for love. Love’s reach is so long, in fact, that it follows you across state lines even after the breakup.
The coach’s whistle sounded, and Lance looked up just in time to see the team hi-fiving and back-thumping.
“Hey Keith!” he called to the point guard who'd just started jogging off the court. Lance ignored the other players’ interested looks as Keith scrutinized him for a moment before jogging over.
“What's up, Lance?”
Keith's words were casual, but Lance thought he sounded suspicious. Or maybe Lance was just overly conscious of what he was about to say. “Will you be my boyfriend?” Wait, that came out wrong. “Just for a week!”
Keith gave no reaction other than to stare at him with a gaze that promised death. Rolo, one of the other players, was keenly watching them over Keith's shoulder, and Lance shifted to block his face with Keith's head. But that meant he now had to focus on Keith again. He was now looking bemused.
“This is why you waited for me for two hours? To make fun of me?”
“You think I'm making fun of you?”
“It's what you've done since the day we met.”
Lance thought about this for a moment. “You're right, and I'm proud of that. But that's not what this is.”
“Oh?” Keith's tone turned sarcastic, and he crossed his arms. But he was still listening. And that was all Lance needed.
“It’s Nyma. She’s gonna be in town for a week, to visit Rolo.”
“What's that got to do with me?”
“I'm getting there. I came to you because you know the whole drama and won’t judge me for this. Or, well, you probably will, but I’ll have less explaining to do than if I asked anyone else. So it’s just a matter of convenience, nothing else. And it’s just until Nyma’s staying.”
Lance caught his breath after his rambling and looked up to find Keith regarding him blankly again. “Fine,” Keith said shortly.
“Wait what? Just like that?”
Keith merely shrugged. “Text me whatever details you need to.” And before Lance could wrap his head around what had just happened, Keith was gone.
Nyma had been a transfer student to Lance’s high school in the final year, a sensation at their boring old school. And Lance had been in love. He’d gone up to her after their first class together to flirt, fully expecting a rejection, but knowing he had to try. And she’d giggled and blushed and called him cute. So he’d asked her out on the spot.
Lance went overboard at every stage of their relationship, and none of it scared her off. In hindsight, that should’ve been a red flag right there, but at the time, it had only convinced him that they were soulmates.
It had taken two whole years for Lance to accept that she was manipulative and that he wasn’t happy with her. The couple of times he’d tried getting out of the relationship, Nyma had managed to convince him to get back together. He’d waited until the second year of college to break it off for good. Even now, he knew that the only reason he hadn’t gone back to her was that they were separated by state lines.
But now she was coming back. And Lance was screwed. He knew he’d go back to her unless he could give her a reason to back off. Like if he was dating someone else. Someone tough enough that Nyma wouldn’t want to mess with.
Lance had first met Keith when he was still with Nyma, and she had come to his campus to visit him during winter break. Her cousin Rolo went to the same college as Lance and was on the basketball team. He’d invited Nyma to one of his games, and she’d brought Lance along. Keith was the team’s point guard, and Rolo introduced them. Keith and Lance had taken an almost instant dislike to each other, though Lance couldn’t really put his finger on why. He figured it was the mullet that first turned him off. And then the stuck-up attitude didn’t do the guy any favors. But why Keith disliked him so much was still a mystery to Lance.
When Lance had long-distance dumped Nyma, Rolo had very nearly picked a fight with him over it, so naturally the whole team knew about it. Lance could live with the notoriety, but he couldn’t live with the emotional drain of being Nyma’s boyfriend again. So when she texted to let him know she’d be in town again, he’d done the most rational thing he could think of. How hard could it be to pull this off? It was just pretend…. Pretend that Keith McBroody Mulletface was his boyfriend. For a week. Lance wondered if he hadn’t just dug the hole deeper trying to climb out of it.
Lance was a guy who always did things at the last possible second. He gave everything his all; it was just that he worked best under a little pressure. So it wasn’t until the morning of the day Nyma was due to arrive that he shot off a text to his new (fake) boyfriend.
>She's coming this afternoon
>You need to come with me to meet her for lunch
Keith's reply was instantaneous.
>What?
>What?
>We can't just show up unprepared
>Uh
>I think you're taking this too seriously ;D
>You're not taking it seriously enough. You really think she's gonna buy that we're dating if we know nothing about each other?
Lance stared at the question. Well shit.
>Well shit
>Just meet me at campus cafe in 15
>Wait what if I'm not free until later?
>Be there.
“Okay so what do we need to know about each other?” Lance asked through a mouthful of penne.
“You're asking me?” Keith marveled as he sat down across from Lance. “You've been in a relationship before. What kinds of things do you want to know about your partners?”
“The shape of their ass?”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
Lance swallowed and grinned back. “I'm kidding! Okay so what's your favorite color?”
“Red.”
Lance looked at the red scarf Keith had around his neck which accented the black leather jacket. That made a lot of sense. “Cool! See now we’re getting to know each other! Now you ask me.”
“How long have you liked me?”
“What?” Had Lance been unknowingly giving off signals here? He thought he'd made it pretty clear that this was just pretend. “I'm not—”
“You do realize it's the first thing they're gonna ask us, right? Because Rolo knows we weren't together even last week when you came to see me at practice.”
Oh. Right. That was solid logic, now that Lance thought about it. “They'll wanna know how we got together, won't they?”
“And if you don't want them to see right through this, we should have stories that check out.”
“Right. Okay. So how did we get together?”
Keith fixed him with a stern glare. “You gonna make me do all the work here? I'm the one helping you.”
“Okay so when I came to see you after practice, I confessed my crush that I've been harboring ever since…” Lance looked around the cafe as if he'd find the answer among these students getting a late lunch. His eyes fixed on a girl wearing an oversized bomber jacket. “Ever since you ran into me walking back to my dorm without a jacket and gave me yours.”
Keith raised a contemplative eyebrow, gaze unfocusing for a moment, before the corners of his mouth turned up very slightly. “That's good,” he mused. “And I've liked you ever since I realized how caring and good you are under that annoying exterior.”
“Uh, thanks?” Backhanded though the compliment was, something stirred deep in Lance’s belly, and he thought it best to avoid Keith's eyes.
“This was while you were still with Nyma,” Keith continued,” so obviously I didn't do anything about it. But when you confessed to me, well, let's just say I'm a lucky guy.”
Lance nodded, committing the story of their love to memory. “I still think you should know my favorite color too.”
“Is it blue?”
“What? How did you…?”
Keith shrugged. “There's blue in your bag, your shirt, even your nail polish.”
Lance grinned. “Good eye.” His phone vibrated loudly on the table, and he looked down. “Oh shoot. Time to go!”
“We should, like, hold hands or something.” Lance wished he could stop feeling so awkward about this; he was just setting a convincing scene. He looked over at Keith to find him wearing a look of disbelief. “What?” Lance asked defensively.
“You'd be okay with everyone seeing that?”
When Lance didn't give off the impression of having understood, Keith continued,
“You aren't actually gay, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, but most straight guys don't want people thinking…you know, I mean I know you asked me for convenience but…”
Lance thought only for a second before saying, “I'm bi actually. And yeah it's fine if, people see. We're trying to convince everyone, aren't we?”
Keith went completely silent. Lance got the impression he'd blown the guy’s mind. Just as Lance was about to ask if everything was okay, warm fingers slipped into his hand, fitting perfectly. Lance had to resist the urge to squeeze; it was silly but waves of comfort washed through him from the point of contact, like everything was going to turn out fine.
They got to the pizza place on time but Nyma and Rolo weren't there yet, so they picked a table and sat down next to each other. Every moment they waited, Lance fretted a bit more. He bounced his leg, he drummed his fingers against the table, he drank the ice cold water and shivered.
“Will you relax?” an irritated voice hissed in his ear.
“You relax!” he shot back, more wound up than ever. “And do something about that hair.”
“Excuse me?”
“It's a mullet.”
“Okay, and?”
“It's 2018.”
Keith leaned closer and deadpanned, “Okay Lance, would you like me to pull out my knife and chop it off here at this table, or would you prefer I step into the bathroom for that?”
The sarcasm dripping from Keith's voice was not lost on Lance, but he had just found something more interesting to focus on. He leaned in too. “Do you seriously have a knife on you right now?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
Keith rolled his eyes. Neglecting to answer the question, he reached into his jeans pocket and took out a hair tie. Then, in front of Lance's very eyes, he tied his hair back into a low ponytail.
Lance stared before insisting urgently, “No, put it back!”
“Lance, what?”
“I can't deal with this right now!”
“I don't—”
“Hey lovebirds!” a cheery voice cut in from behind them. Nyma was here.
“Cool it with the PDA!” Rolo added with a laugh, as the two approached the table.
Lance and Keith drew apart and got up to greet them. There were hugs and greetings all around before they all sat down. At least there was no need for introductions.
Rolo offered to go get their orders, and once he left, Nyma turned eager eyes on Keith. “So, dish! Tell me all about how you two became a thing!”
“Wait for me,” Rolo called out. “I wanna hear this.”
Keith and Lance exchanged a look, and launched into their spotty story once Rolo returned.
“That’s so sweet, oh my God,” Nyma gushed. “You waited for him, Keith!”
“I didn’t have much choice,” he pointed out, reaching over to hold Lance’s hand on the table.
“You were hardcore pining,” Rolo chuckled. “I still don’t believe it. You two just seem so at odds. The only times I’ve ever seen you guys interact, it’s been nothing but bickering.”
Keith turned to Lance and smirked. Something mischievous twinkled in his amethyst eyes as he leaned closer and tilted his head. “We have our moments,” he whispered, answering Rolo but gaze fixed on Lance’s lips. His breath ghosted over Lance’s skin, but he came no closer.
Lance recognized it for what it was: an open offer. Warning signals were firing every which way in his brain; this would be taking it way further than it needed to go. But something else shot all those signals down in one fell swoop. He leaned across the couple of centimeters of distance remaining between them and pressed his lips to Keith’s in a chaste kiss.
“Hey, woah, cool it,” Rolo warned, but it was good-natured.
Keith looked away wearing an extremely smug look. And Lance really did not want to think about why his whole face was tingling, why his cheeks were on fire but his lips were ice.
“Oh, before I forget,” said Nyma, clasping her hands together, “I need to do all the touristy things while I'm here, so I booked seats on the ferry! Obviously I'm not going alone, and Lance you're the only person I know here besides Rolo, so you have to come. And of course you're welcome too Keith! But I didn't know about you beforehand so I didn't get you a ticket.” She looked sheepish as she reached the end of her eager announcement.
Keith started to reply, “It's oka—”
“I'll buy you a ticket babe,” Lance cut in. There was no way he was getting dragged onto a ferry with Nyma without a buffer.
“Thanks, babe,” Keith grinned; the smug look was back. Or maybe, it had never left.
The ferry, it turned out, was actually kind of boring. There was only so many times you could look out at a seemingly endless expanse of water in the dark before you needed something else to do. Nyma joined some impromptu dancing that had broken out, and Rolo ran into some friends.
Meanwhile, Lance and Keith ended up out on the deck, leaning against the railing and just talking. It started with Keith stepping out for some air and Lance going after him to tell him off for not putting more of an effort into his performance.
“I'm on a date with you,” he shot back, “I deserve an Oscar.”
“Um, rude! Anyway joke’s on you; they don't give Oscars for Most Unconvincing Portrayal of a Boyfriend.”
Keith snorted. “Are you serious?” He was smiling now, and Lance briefly wondered why that made him feel accomplished. “So what else should we do?” Keith asked. “Hold hands? Kiss? Make out?”
“No need to be extra.” Lance rolled his eyes, grateful that the night was dark enough to hide his rising blush. “Holding hands is fine. Kissing is good, too.”
Keith nodded sagely. “Got it.” He looked in through the windows. “Doesn't look like she's watching us right now though. It might help if we actually go inside… Anyway, I'll go get us something to drink.”
Lance was leaning against the railing waiting for Keith when Nyma stepped out and came up to him. She'd been socializing, and Lance recognized the high of human interaction in her eyes. He got that same boost of good feelings when he met new people or hung out with friends; though oddly enough, he’d felt no inclination to talk to anyone except his date all night.
“Having fun?” Nyma asked.
Lance grinned. “I really am. I can't believe it never occurred to me to do anything touristy here.”
She leaned her elbows on the railing next to him. “Hey, remember that time we went to that lighthouse together back home?”
“Yeah.” He remembered very well. “You made me climb all the way to the top and then left me there.”
Her smile turned reminiscent. “We had some good times, didn't we?”
“You left me there and took my car to go home.” Was this what she considered a fond memory of their time together?
“Look, I just want to say that I don't really like how we ended things. And I know you're not single right now, but I just need you to know that I miss you, and if you ever wanted—”
“Hey babe.” Keith had found his way back to Lance. Not having turned around fast enough, Lance was entirely unprepared for Keith to slip an arm around his waist and pull him into a deep kiss.
Lance's eyes fluttered shut, and he didn't care to open them again even though the kiss was going on way too long and Nyma was still watching. Keith was…a really good kisser.
“Uhhh, guys?” Nyma called.
Keith broke away to answer her. “Just saying hi.” He didn't let go of Lance's waist.
“I guess I'll leave you to it,” she suggested, sounding amused.
Lance only half registered her receding footsteps.
When Keith finally turned his attention back to Lance, Lance did his best not to look as dazed as he felt. “What was that?” he asked, holding back a cringe when it came out breathless.
“She was talking very animatedly,” Keith replied matter-of-factly, letting go and taking a step back, “and you looked like you were about to freak out.”
“Yeah I was probably two seconds away from caving.” He smiled when that pulled a chuckle from Keith. “Thanks, man.” Lance had completely known the entire time that the kiss was for show. It wasn't even his first kiss with Keith at this point. Now if only his heart would stop acting like he'd just ran a marathon.
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Okay just hear me out, Peter Quill Lance and Gamora keith
I hear you and I love it.
"Hey come on! We had a deal!" Lance kicked at the metal shutter but he already knew it was useless. The buyer he'd stolen this orb for had just backed out, slammed the door in his face and everything. Lance groaned in frustration, kicking at a pebble on the ground. He turned away from the storefront with a scowl and found himself being scrutinized by striking violet eyes.
"What happened?"
Lance froze. The violet eyes belonged to a dark haired man with pretty lavender skin. The man's question went right over Lance's head, transfixed as he was by the leather-clad, toned body leaning against the wall. It wasn't until the guy raised an elegant eyebrow that Lance got back in the game.
"Oh, uh." He pointed at the shutter. "This guy made a deal with me, and now he's backed out."
"How disgraceful," his audience commented, now turned fully toward Lance.
"Right?" Lance exclaimed, shining under the undivided attention of a gorgeous purple alien. "What happened to the honor in the galaxy?" He shook his head gravely. "My name's Lance, by the way."
The man gave a small smile, and stepped closer. Lance felt his heartbeat running way ahead of him.
"You're an honorable man, Lance."
"I- well, I wouldn't say- I mean people have said that about me but I—" Lance was still floundering, still wondering how one single person could be this sexy just standing there, when said person reached into Lance's pocket and then bolted.
It took Lance a second, but he cursed under his breath the moment he realized it. The guy had grabbed the orb. He should've known better than to let himself get distracted. Seriously should've known better given his past experiences. Plus with how he was dressed like an assassin, again, Lance really should've known.
In the split second it took Lance to start giving chase, the assassin had a solid head start. Lance followed until he had a clear line of sight and pulled out his gun. The thief's leather-clad legs were a blur as he ran, but they didn't call Lance sharpshooter for nothing. He took aim and fired. A bola of pure blue energy tangled in the guy's legs, and he fell to the ground with a crash, nearby marketgoers scattering with startled screams at the sudden end to the sudden chase.
Trying and failing to keep his grin from looking too smug, Lance sauntered up to where the thief now sat on the ground trying to break the bindings.
"Oh how the mighty have fallen," he murmured as he bent down to retrieve the orb. That thing better be worth all this trouble.
In hindsight, it was for the best that he'd gotten his gloating in early, because the next moment, cops descended from who knows where, arrested them both, and confiscated the orb to boot. And that wasn't even the worst of it.
The arresting officer turned to his partner and announced in amusement, "We've been trying to arrest this guy for a while, you know. He even has a code name; calls himself Sharpshot."
"It's not— I don't call myself…" Lance sighed. One day it would catch on. He knew it would. "It's an outlaw name. They call me 'Sharpshooter' not Sharpshot; that's just dumb."
"Yeah okay, sharpshit."
Oh boy. This was all that damn assassin's fault. Lance took comfort in the fact that he was getting arrested too. From what he could overhear from the officers, the guy was a henchman to a major galactic criminal. Figures. Lance shot him a dirty look as he was led past, wishing he didn't care as much as he did when he was ignored.
pansexual keith who really loves the band skillet. he thinks its hilarious and nobody gets why.
So I saw your prompt and when I finally started writing, it turned into this. Just a slice of life college au scene~
“Uh guys?” Hunk looked up from his laptop in concern. “Is the internet out?”
Keith, Lance, and Pidge looked up from their own work, tired bags under their eyes. The four of them were gathered in one of the soundproof group study rooms at the college library, preparing for the final that would surely be the death of them all.
And now Hunk’s music had stopped playing.
“I don’t know,” Lance said. “I haven't gone online since I downloaded the lecture notes. Let me check the wifi.”
“Yeah it's out,” Keith confirmed, already pulling out his headphones from his laptop and plugging them into his phone.
“What? No!” Hunk exclaimed, clicking frantically. “How do they expect me to study without my playlist?”
“They'll get it back up pretty soon,” said Pidge, stifling a yawn. “Just try reconnecting a few times.” She turned to Keith who was already back to his textbook. “You're prepared for this,” she observed, pointing at his headphones.
Keith looked up, eyes long since dead. “Don't you guys have music downloaded on your phones? Just listen to that.”
He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Except…“My phone doesn't have my study music separated from my rock-out music!” Hunk explained, incredulous.
“Yeah man, do you just study to any music?” Lance asked. “What are we, animals?”
Keith merely shrugged, turning to his notes again, when Hunk leaned forward and grabbed his phone, pulling the headphones right out of Keith's ears in the process.
“Hey!” Keith protested, reaching out a split-second too late to hold onto his phone.
“So what're you listening to?” With his own music stopped, Hunk was now fully distracted. Besides, they'd been at it for hours, working in silence, and surely they could all use a few minutes of break.
Lance and Pidge leaned over to peer at the phone now dwarfed in Hunk's hands.
“Guys what the hell! Give it back,” Keith insisted. But his demand fell on deaf ears.
“Skillet?” exclaimed three voices at once.
“Dude,” Lance marveled, “like half the songs on here are by Skillet.”
“Is there something you'd like to tell us?” Pidge asked, in that super serious tone of hers that meant she was making fun of you.
“What?” Keith's voice was full-on defensive now.
“Nothing!” Lance assured him. “It's just, I never thought you'd be…”
“We never knew you were into them, that's all,” Hunk finished reasonably.
Keith's eyes were still narrowed, but his shackles seemed to be going back down. “I just like their music,” he said finally.
Pidge raised her eyebrows. “Seriously? They always struck me as kind of generic. What do you like about their music?”
Keith leaned back in his seat as he thought for a moment. “Their lyrics are pretty good and the music itself is nice to listen to. I mean what other reasons do you need?”
“Haven't they had like a bazillion changes to their lineup?” asked Lance, really getting into the discussion, even though his current studying was not at all internet-dependent. “Are they even the same band at this point?”
Keith looked genuinely offended at this. “That doesn't mean they're not a good band!”
“Hey wait!” Hunk interrupted. “That one time I studied with you in your room…I didn't recognize it at the time…you have a poster of the lead singer on your wall, don't you?”
Keith colored a bit at that. “Yeah,” he admitted, “so? He's hot.”
“If you're into that,” Pidge supposed.
“I used to have a poster of the drummer before I switched it for the one of John. She's pretty hot too,” Keith added.
“Okay, die-hard Skillet fan,” Hunk began.
“I'm not—”
“So let's listen to a song while we wait for the wifi to work again. What's the one must-listen?”
Keith held out a hand for his phone, and Hunk handed it over. Keith only scrolled for a moment with his thumb before he found what he was looking for. “Falling Inside the Black,” he announced, pulling out his headphones and playing it out loud.
They listened to three more songs after that before they realized the internet was back on.
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The first of my inbox requests! I’m getting to these now that my deadlined events are mostly over~ This one is for @rumbarn from Feb. 2017 (I’m so sorry it took this long!)
Prompt: Really sweet fluffy falling in love klance
Words: 3.3k
Notes: Canon-compliant; begins in season1 and ends after season4
5 times Lance was surprised by Keith’s touch, and 1 time he wasn’t
~1~
“The only time someone should wake me up is if an intergalactic emergency is happening.” Being the blue paladin of Voltron is awesome, but Lance needs his beauty sleep. And rest. He's a growing boy who's in pretty good shape overall, but the sudden physical strength (and early mornings) expected of him since coming to space is taking its toll on his body. These days he aches in places he didn't even realize he had.
So when Keith very unnecessarily calls him out with a “We’d probably be better off fighting without you,” Lance is reasonably pissed. Bickering with his rival over breakfast, he forgets about some of the pain in his arms.
That night Lance goes to bed thoroughly exhausted. Face mask on, he lies comfortably on his back and instantly drifts off. He doesn't know how long he sleeps before Keith is there, standing by his bed, his hand warm on Lance's shoulder. He wonders vaguely if it's normal to dream about one’s rival so frequently.
I thought I told you not to wake me up, he says and wills the dream away.
Suddenly there's a hand in his that isn't familiar but feels like it should be, and he tugs it closer because the contact feels good. He's so comfortable now that he turns over, awareness of his face mask banished to the far recesses of his mind as it smears onto his pillow. If he could just stretch his leg out, that would be perfect. So he does. And his foot connects with something.
And a deadweight drops onto him with a grunt.
Not even a little bit sleepy anymore, he jolts up and shoves whoever just tried to kill him onto the floor, and when the person hurriedly stands up, Lance sees that it's…Keith.
Keith, pouting and looking very flustered, won't look at Lance. He barks out something about how they're being attacked and need Voltron and that he was sent to retrieve Lance. Then he bolts out of the room.
Lance, still sitting in bed breathing hard, registers the pressing urgency of the situation but only vaguely. Because finding Keith on top of him, as if he's materialized right out of one of Lance's most confusing dreams, is pulling heat and color into his face. And he's glad the room is dark because that means Keith probably didn't notice his blush and his messed up facemask and his bedhead.
He forgets about the facemask again and runs his hands over his face, groaning when they come back all green and creamy.
Keith has all but forbidden Lance from bringing up the ‘falling on top of him’ incident. Lance can live with that. It's hard but he can do it, making up for it by teasing Keith with other things—from his fashion sense to his hair—every chance he gets. The longer he keeps this up, the more he notices little changes in Keith. Like how he used to be all stiff around Lance after the ‘incident’ but now he's more chill. He still stands with his arms crossed and broods all the time, but he doesn't radiate hostility anymore. In fact, more than once, Lance has been at the receiving end of fond smiles from the mullet man. But this happens just as often as the scowling, so who even knows.
~2~
The blue lion crashes.
It's during a battle. Lance gets a little distracted with blasting the fighters getting too close to the castle and doesn't notice the ones closing him in from behind.
The others finish the fight without him by the time he regains consciousness. He gets back in the air only to touch down again. He's upright but his head is still swimming, and when he touches the side of his forehead, his fingers meet something warm and sticky. Good thing the battle is over and won.
Lance is still looking at the darkening red on his fingers when suddenly, Keith is out of his lion and rushing forward. He shouts Lance’s name and wraps him tight against himself, burying his own face in Lance’s neck.
Lance is too stunned to react at first, except for the heat he feels in his face, which he doubts has to do with the exertion. His arms slowly come up to return the hug. But the slightest touch from Lance jolts Keith, and he breaks away, muttering something that sounds like a very embarrassed apology, before running back to his lion.
Still stunned, Lance watches until the red lion disappears into its hangar.
The following days are especially confusing. Lance's brain replays the hug over and over again. His entire body plays along and keeps reminding him of the sensation of being held in Keith's arms. It felt so safe, and Keith's labored breath fanning against his skin felt…. Lance blushes, not wanting to give that particular feeling a name.
Meanwhile Keith avoids Lance entirely now, out of embarrassment Lance figures. The most direct effect of this is that Lance is no longer able to tease Keith to his face and has to settle for watching from afar. He watches as Keith pours himself into more training and flies off in Red sometimes to blow off steam. He gains the ability to tell when Keith is feeling down because when he is, he spends more time with the training bot than usual. He notices how Keith's nose turns up at Coran’s special lunches and how his eyes twinkle at some of Hunk’s specialties. And without meaning to he learns all of Keith's most and least favorite food goo varieties. And the moment when he realizes that he is in fact noticing all these things is Lance's undoing.
He's holed up in his room, bouncing his legs—left then right then left again—as he sits uncomfortably on the edge of his bed. He should be asleep, but how can he be? ‘Dios mio,’ he thinks to himself, not yet ready to say the words out loud, even alone in his room, ‘I like Keith…like, like like him….’
Even saying the word four times doesn't make the fact that Lance likes Keith any easier to digest. Sleep doesn't come to him that night.
~3~
Lance has had crushes before. Loads of times. He loves being in love. But this time, his crush isn't like any of his previous ones. It's a boy. And not just any boy; it's a boy he thought he hated, a boy with awful hair, a boy he's forced to cohabit a castle-cum-spaceship with. It's Keith. Keith is the boy Lance is crushing on, and it's driving him crazy. He's not sure yet if it's in a good way.
His own internal panic aside, there's another problem. Keith has been keeping his distance and, well, Lance wants to go back to the whole making fun of each other dynamic they'd had going on. Which, now that he's listening to his inner voice, might actually have been flirting this whole time. Is it possible to flirt without realizing it?
Lance's brain is a bit scattered as the team plans their trip to the Unilu trading post. Coran brings out containers of old clothes and tasks them with finding stuff that fits so he can help them put together pirate disguises.
Playing dress-up like he used to as a kid with his sisters, except now it's for a good cause? Sign Lance the heck up. He rummages through the containers, tossing too large items to Hunk and too small ones to Pidge. He pulls out another item and is just about to throw it to Pidge when he pauses. The waist would be too big on Pidge; it looks more like his own size, really. But the length…. He looks down at the container and pulls out an accompanying top. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, he stares at the blue and white clothes in his hands. He's sorely tempted. They're his size and color; he should at least try them on. He knows he can totally rock the look.
Hunk turns to him to ask for his opinion on a grotesque spiked overcoat, and Lance quickly tucks his find behind his back. “Yeah looks great Hunk,” he says carelessly. “I'm gonna go try something on,” he announces, dashing out of the room before anyone can stop him.
He puts it on in the dressing room, and boy was he right. He’s totally rocking it. He turns in front of the mirror, looking at how it brings out all his best features. with a broad grin, he steps out to show Hunk and Pidge…and runs right into Keith. When did he get here?
Keith’s face twists into an irritated grimace at being bumped into, before his eyes take in the sight before him: Lance in tiny deep blue shorts and a long-sleeved thin white top that ends just below his chest.
Keith's eyes widen comically. For a stiff moment, he stares; then his finger comes up, seemingly of its own accord, and pokes Lance's exposed belly as if to check that it’s really there. Lance lets out an embarrassing noise in surprise. He's blushing under Keith's attention, he can feel it; and as much as he's trying to hold it back, the touch, however brief, is making him smile.
Keith keenly watches it all play out on Lance's face. He looks pleasantly surprised—and encouraged—by Lance's flustered reaction. “A crop top and booty shorts? Really?” he finally says with a hint of amusement and something else in his tone. “I thought the point of the disguises was to blend in,” he adds with a smirk. “Don't know if these will cut it.”
Lance, normally a master flirt, looks away. Keith’s smug look is annoying him; it always throws him off when Keith gets like this. With a grimace, he remembers asking Keith to come untie him after the fiasco with Nyma. The memory of Keith's teasing is enough to increase Lance's internal temperature by a few degrees.
“I'm afraid Keith is right,” Coran muses, seeing Lance's outfit. “The pirates don't dress like that.”
“I just wanted to see if they would fit.” Lance shrugs and turns to go change.
“Well they fit perfectly,” he hears Keith mutter behind him and flushes all over again, hurrying out of the room.
At least he's shocked Keith into talking to him again. With a dopey smile, he puts his own clothes back on, carefully folding and keeping the eye-opening summer outfit. Just in case it…comes in handy at some point.
~4~
So Keith is Galra.
It happens so suddenly and it feels like no one has time to react properly because they're all going on their own missions. When Keith and Shiro first tell the team what they discovered at the Marmora base, Allura’s anger erupts so silently that the topic becomes an instant taboo. Keith walks around with a fallen face, doing his best to stay on task but unable to completely hide his hurt—at least from Lance’s astute gaze.
Lance wants to go up to Keith, wants to say that this doesn't change anything, that he's still their red paladin. Lance approaches him before they go off on their separate quests, and Keith stands before him, eyes lowered and head hung, posture resigned but impatient, as if he knows what's coming and just wants to get it over with.
“Just tell me I’m Galra scum and go, Lance.”
Lance's words die in his throat. Is that what Keith thinks of him? expects from him? He forgets all the words of acceptance and sympathy he had planned and reaches out in the one surefire way he knows how. “I just came to tell you to watch that mullet. I heard you’re going to fight some giant beast and get scaultrite from its stomach so you know,” he fumbles; he didn’t think this insult through. “Your dumb hair would probably get in the way,” he finishes with an attempt at his trademark shit-eating grin.
Keith looks up at him, mouthing words that won’t come out. And then, the corners of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. Very slowly, a mixed look of relief and fondness lights his face, and Lance is reminded of that time Keith had embraced him with such suddenness.
“Yeah and you watch your back at that prison,” says Keith, having finally found his voice again. “Don’t get blindsided by another cute girl and compromise the mission.”
“Hey!”
But Keith is chuckling now and Lance feels like this talk hasn't been a disaster after all. He cracks a smile and says, “Good luck, Samurai.”
“You too, Sharpshooter.” Keith turns toward where Hunk is waiting for him by the yellow lion.
Sharpshooter? Lance’s smile grows bigger as he takes in the nickname. He hopes it becomes a thing because he really likes the sound of that. I'll make it a thing, he decides, making his way toward Shiro and Pidge.
The jailbreak from beta-traz goes pretty well, all things considered. The bottom line is they accomplish the mission.
Team Voltron is on the cusp of putting their plan to defeat Zarkon into action. If all goes well, Zarkon and his empire of tyranny will be history once and for all.
Keith and Lance are lounging on the observation deck. It's the night before the big day. Keith was watching the stars when Lance joined him, and now they're looking out at the vast expanse of space together.
“Hey, let’s swap war stories!” Lance suggests.
Keith rolls his eyes, but Lance catches the smile that reaches those violet eyes. He motions for Lance to go first, and Lance tells him all about busting Slav out of Beta-Traz. When he gets to the yupper and how she’d basically agreed wholeheartedly that Lance was useless, Keith bursts into laughter.
“You bared your soul to a yupper?!” he wheezes.
Lance's every instinct screams at him to be embarrassed, but he can't help the giddy delight settling in his chest at having made Keith laugh so openly. Keith's eyes crinkle at the corners as tears of mirth threaten to break free.
Drawn in by the way the dim light catches Keith's eyes, Lance keeps talking. “Yeah I told her all about how I thought I was a seventh wheel, and she just said ‘yup.’”
Keith’s laughter subsides a bit, but amusement still twinkles in his eyes. He gazes at Lance’s face, then leans forward and cups his chin. “Maybe you could try baring your heart to me someday instead of to a yupper.” Then Keith leans in closer, clearly with the intent to kiss him, but giving Lance every chance to stop it. It's like he's trying to convey just how special he intends to make Lance feel with the intense look in his eyes.
Lance merely holds that gaze, losing himself in the galaxies that are mere inches away. Is this really happening? Lance tries to swallow but his throat is paralyzed.
Keith tilts his head, his eyes drop to Lance’s lips…
An alarm blares, and they jump apart. Lance's heart feels like it's about to jump out through his mouth; and judging by Keith's labored breathing, he isn't faring much better.
Apparently it's time. Zarkon is going down. Lance's first kiss will have to wait.
~5~
The empire doesn't go down. They hit Zarkon but just barely. But more importantly, they lose Shiro.
Keith isn't the same after that. They don't get to continue their interrupted night by the stars. Keith moves through the motions of being a paladin but he has a singular focus: bring Shiro back.
And Lance is there. By Keith's side. Through the lion switch that tears Keith apart, the leadership role that threatens to break him before he finally accepts it, the return of a changed Shiro. And then Keith leaves.
Blade more than paladin now apparently, Keith leaves Lance behind. Never bothering to cut the thread Lance has been hanging on since that night under the stars.
Lance is bitter. He's irritated. A little angry even. But under it all, he's hurt. Is he really the only one who thought what almost happened that night was a big deal?
So when Keith comes in wearing his Marmorite suit, blasting through the vacuum of space like only he can, and flies himself into certain death, all of Lance's anger comes to a head. Keith would have perished, erased without a trace, if not for Lotor’s perfect timing; and Lance is pissed.
He's shouting. “I hate you!” He's dragged Keith off to give him a piece of his mind but all he can get out is something that isn't even true. Something that hasn't been true for a long, long time.
Keith considers him, incredibly calm, “But I love you.”
Lance is stunned into silence. He tries to stay mad, but his heart is melting. He turns away in anger and exasperation, muttering, “I hate how you’re always so willing to sacrifice yourself. I hate how you distance yourself so easily. I hate…I hate….”
He still has his his back to Keith, but he doesn’t storm off or leave.
That seems to be all the encouragement Keith needs. He steps closer to Lance from behind, and in a low, sincere voice, repeats himself,
“I love you.”
Lance can feel Keith’s words washing over him. He can feel his resolve eroding. His shoulders start to droop; he slouches, as if physically defeated.
And somehow, Keith is there. He grips Lance’s arms, anchoring him, holding him up. Lance sinks backwards against Keith’s chest. Keith is a rock behind him, steady, unmoving, comforting.
“I hate you,” he whispers again, no bite behind the words. “I hate your stupid hotheadedness and your stupid mullet and your dumb, pretty, intense eyes.”
Against the shell of Lance’s ear, “I love your soft skin and your smug grins. I love it when you’re flustered. I love your bravery and how much you care about everyone…not just everyone but everyone individually, enough to risk your life for someone you just met. You care so much about people, Lance, and I love that. I love how much you care about…me.”
Lance is gone. Has been since the first time Keith said it. But despite himself, barely audible, “I hate you.”
“I don't believe you.”
Lance doesn't believe himself either.
He takes Keith's hands from his own arms and pulls them around his waist instead, wrapping Keith against himself in an embrace says so much more than he can right now.
+1
Lance lies on the floor of the observation deck, a callback to that night so many quintants ago. Keith hovers above him on his elbows, leaning down to kiss Lance’s nose, cheeks, lips, pulling back to look at him after each kiss. Everything moves so slowly, gently.
Lance can’t decide whether to keep his eyes closed and savor the feeling of Keith’s chapped lips, or to keep them open so he can see the awe and intensity in Keith’s gaze. He settles for closed for now, but he doesn't know what to do with his hands either, until finally bringing them to rest on Keith’s waist. He has to resist the urge to pull, to draw Keith in closer.
Lance opens his eyes and takes in Keith’s soft expression. Feeling like the slightest movement on his part will break the magic of the moment. Lance all but holds his breath, not wanting to disturb Keith in his ministrations. His pulse quickens with every dip of Keith’s head; a sigh escapes him with every touch of Keith’s lips. Keith's touch leaves life in its wake. His fingers ignite little fires as they move across Lance’s skin.
“I love you.” He says it because it's true. And because Keith isn't pulling away anymore. And because they're still at war but now they have each other.
Can you do a headcanon where Keith walks in on Lance taking a shower and they end up making out?
I sure can! Only thing is it'll take me 9 months apparently 🙈 To make it up to you, I've done a 1k drabble instead of just a headcanon~~ I do hope you'll somehow see this anon 💝
Feeling alive after an hour of swimming, Lance hummed on his way to the showers. His mind was still back at the pool, which had a window overlooking some of the workout rooms. More particularly, his mind was on one specific kickboxer.
Distracted as he was, he didn't even notice the approaching footsteps. The gym had old fashioned showers without much privacy; the stalls were open except along the sides, where they were separated by thin, waist-down walls. Lance had just turned around to wash his back when he froze at the sight before him. The very kickboxer he'd just been daydreaming about stood in front of him in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. Lance felt heat rising to his face as the water poured against his shoulders and back.
The kickboxer was lean but muscular, his dark hair striking a sharp contrast against the expanse of pale skin he was showing. He was somehow making a mullet look good. They locked eyes, and Lance was suddenly very aware of his own nakedness. He gulped, realizing he was making this very weird by staring. He looked away from where his eyes were currently following a bead of sweat making its way slowly down the guy’s toned abs. He willed his feet to move and turned away, as the kickboxer nonchalantly made his way to the only other stall, right next to Lance.
A few seconds later, he spoke to Lance in a scratchy voice that did nothing for Lance’s quickening heartbeat. “Hey, this stall’s out of shampoo. Mind if I grab some of yours?”
“Sure, man.” Lance was proud of how little his own voice shook.
The guy reached over the short wall and took a handful of shampoo from the dispenser. Lance gulped as the toned arm nearly brushed his nose on the way back.
“Thanks,” the guy muttered, lathering the shampoo into his hair.
Logically, Lance should've just kept his mouth shut, finished his shower, and gone home. But Lance was not a logical man. “The gym’s shampoo is terrible on hair, you know.”
The guy’s hands froze for a second before he scoffed and resumed his lathering. “I've never had a problem with it.”
No, he probably hadn't. Even from a distance, his hair always looked so soft and touchable. Lance had been watching him work out for weeks now, looking away everytime he caught his eye. Lance chanced a peek now, and the guy was regarding him with a smirk on his chiseled face, apparently done washing his hair, which now looked very shiny.
“You're that swimmer, right?” he asked very suddenly. “I've seen you through the window.”
“The name’s Lance,” he whipped out his flirty tone automatically.
“Keith.”
Lance, finishing up with his own hair, looked over to find Keith undoubtedly checking him out.
The hot guy he'd been thirsting over was also into guys, and also into him? What were the odds? “See something you like?” he asked as he switched off the water.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Well, shit. The matter-of-fact tone threw Lance off his game for a moment, and he barely noticed Keith's shower turn off until they were suddenly plunged into silence. Jarred into action, he smiled slyly at Keith. “See something you want?”
Keith returned the look with another smirk and stepped closer to the wall between them. Lance took a step forward too, feet cold against the hard tile, and Keith kissed him gently. It was brief, just a taste. Apparently liking what he felt, he returned for another press of his mouth, this time more urgent.
Lance sighed, licking Keith's still-wet lips. Keith nipped at Lance's bottom lip in response before opening his mouth to admit Lance’s tongue. Exploring Keith’s mouth with his own, Lance let his hands wander. He slipped one around Keith's back and slid the other along his arm, bringing it up to grip Keith's shower-damp hair. He had been a fool for judging the mullet; it was the perfect length to tug on, which Lance quickly discovered got Keith to hiss delightfully.
Keith had broken the kiss when Lance pulled his hair, and Lance took full advantage, dipping his head to nip along Keith's jaw. When Lance reached his neck, littering hot kisses on the cool skin, Keith’s pulse fluttered against his lips. Keith bent his head and nipped at Lance's shoulder, one hand sliding down his back with a feather-light touch. With his other hand, Keith reached between them to flick and pinch Lance’s nipple. Encouraged by Lance’s moans, Keith bit down harder on his shoulder and chuckled when it made Lance buck against the wall still between them.
“Maybe we should continue this somewhere less…” Keith trailed off, but Lance picked up for him, slightly out of breath,
“Divided?”
Keith snorted. “Yeah. I, uh, live nearby.”
Lance didn't need to be told twice. He stuffed his legs into his shorts, not even bothering with his shirt as he pulled on his jacket. “Lead the way, Mullet Man,” he said, stuffin the rest of his clothes into his gym bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
“What?” Keith stared at him with the full force of his stormy gray eyes.
“Uh, nothing!” What was Pidge always saying about a brain-to-mouth filter? “Let's go, my man!”
Keith raised an eyebrow but nonetheless threw on his own sweatpants and tank top. “Someone's eager.”
“Hey, you solicited me, hot stuff, so shut up!”
“Solicited? Hot stuff? Are you for real?”
They bickered all the way to Keith's apartment.
Lance still couldn't believe this was happening, but he hoped he'd have lots of opportunities to convince himself.
aka the zombie fic I’ve been talking about for a while now!
The first draft has been released on Patreon! I will be posting publicly to ao3 once I’ve cleaned up the draft. But if you don’t want to wait, check out my Patreon to see how Pidge got started on her journey through zombie-infested space!
