#stripper!lance

The song had ended with neither of them gaining the metaphorical upper hand in their stupid competition. They had both laughed and shot insults at each other before Lance had finally wandered off to do his actual job with a parting “Fuck you, mullet!”

It had been over an hour since then and Lance was missing it. He had been run ragged since that dance, and then…

“Fuckin’ arsehole.” Lance was muttering to himself as he stormed through the staff door into the back alley behind the club, trying to light the scabbed cigarette between his lips. “Fuckin’ sleazebag piece of shit. Who the fuck does he think he is? I’ll cut his fuckin’ dick off myself-”

“Someone pissed you off, clearly.”

Lance yelped, startled, causing his cigarette to fall into a puddle. He stared at it for a moment, pouting. Just his luck. An amused huff reminded him that he wasn’t alone and he nearly yelped for a second time when he looked up and recognised the figure standing there. Keith was leaning against the brick wall, blowing his own smoke up towards the sky.

“Here.” Keith’s hand was outstretched, another cigarette between his fingers.

Lance accepted the offering with a small smile, lighting it and taking a long drag. As he released it back out, he felt tension leaving his body with it. Smoking might kill him of cancer one day, but right now he was young and believed himself indestructible.

“Thanks, man.”

“Keith.” Lance hummed.

“Yeah, I know. Shiro’s brother, right? Lance.”

“Shiro’s an arse and I’m angry at him right now. But yeah, he already mentioned your name.”

Lance joined Keith in leaning against the wall and they smoked in silence for a few moments.

“So, who’s dick is getting cut off?”

Lance’s scowl returned and he groaned.

“Dickhead client inside. There’s a group of them, business men who make far too much money but never leave good tips. One dude in particular apparently can’t get the words ‘hands off’ through his thick skull.” He saw Keith cringe slightly. Though whether it was in sympathy or fear of having crossed a line earlier, Lance wasn’t sure. He waved his hand in a vague dismissive gesture.

“They’re drunk, as usual, and I thought it’d be okay. They’re spending a lot in the bar, so it was worth keeping them happy. But, like… I got trapped and hands went where I didn’t want them, so I bolted. I’ll be alright, just pissed off.”

“I can see why. Fuckers.” There was concern lining Keith’s face, but he wasn’t looking at Lance. “I can punch ‘em for you if you want. You’d risk your job if you did it, I suppose.”

Lance snorted. “I appreciate the offer, but I hear you’re in need of a job too and I’m pretty sure it would interfere with your prospects too. Allura’s pretty good as protection, anyway.”

“She can’t be everywhere at once though…” It was said quietly, almost a murmur, like it wasn’t quite meant to be heard, so Lance didn’t answer. Even if it was true.

The pair of boys seemed to fall into a comfortable silence. Keith seemed content to enjoy the quiet of being outside and Lance didn’t want to go inside just yet.

“You look like you’re freezing.”

“I’m fine.” Keith must have caught Lance shivering. It wasn’t warm out, and he his clothing wasn’t exactly designed to keep him warm, but he would die of hypothermia before he admitted weakness in front of this guy.

The metal in Keith’s ears glinted in the light as he shifted, pulling off his red jacket. He didn’t even give Lance a chance to object, simply throwing it in his face.

“Put it on, moron.”

His voice held a tone that seemed to cut off Lance’s arguments before he could make them. Lance grumbled under his breath, but shrugged into the jacket, instantly warming up. Though that may have been Keith’s lingering body heat… And that was the beginning of a dangerous path that he was going to ignore for the moment. Instead, he giggled.

“This is like one of those terrible rom-com movies.”

Lance internally cheered as Keith let out a soft, breathy laugh.

“You mean the ones where the stripper had to be ‘rescued’ from their shit life my some dumbass rich man?”

Lance grinned.

“Yeah! They’re always pathetic and weak and just need a man to care for them.”

“Who only falls for them because they look sad and pretty.”

“And then, depending on the route you want, he either teaches her - because strippers are never men - how to be a ‘real lady’ or-”

“-or he’s involved with some sort of trouble and protects her from the shit he got her into?”

“And then she falls for him because he’s strong and possessive.”

“Fuck, man.” Keith shook his head. “Surely there’s a movie that doesn’t shit on strippers.”

Lance hummed in thought.

“Magic Mike?”

“I’ve honestly never seen it.”

“Me either, I’m just guessing.”

They fell silent again, Lance staring at a crack in the pavement while he considered an idea.

“Hey, Keith?”

“Hm?”

“You, ah…” How was he supposed to ask this? “You know how you said before about punching that guy for me? Can I ask you a favour?”

Keith didn’t say anything, but he nodded for Lance to continue, brows furrowed slightly.

“Can I… ah… can I use you as backup?” He felt awkward, not even sure if he was phrasing what he wanted correctly. “Like, I have to get back to work and I can’t avoid him, but I’m honestly a tad nervous and… I don’t even know…” What did he want from Keith?

“Lance. It’s fine.”

Lance snapped his head up to look at Keith. It was?

“I’ll stick close by and keep an eye out. You can use me as a shield if you need to and I’m happy to step in if you want me to.”

The breath Lance let out this time was one of relief.

“Thanks, man. And… thank you, in general.”

Lance pushed himself off the wall and Keith followed suit, both of them heading back towards the club.

“For what?” He sounded confused.

“For like, being nice? Treating me like a fuckin’ human being? I dunno. Not making bullshit assumptions about who I am. Not being one of the creeps that I deal with every other day.” Lance suddenly grinned as he opened the door. “Even if you do keep staring at my arse.”

He heard Keith start coughing, like he had choked on air and giggled at it. He glanced over his shoulder to see Keith looking anywhere but at Lance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not even that good.”

Lance cackled.

“Liar! You couldn’t tear your hands from it, earlier.”

“Shut up, fucker.”

Lance stopped just past the doorway, spinning to face Keith.

“How long as we known each other?”

Keith raised an eyebrow.

“About two hours.” ‘Why’ was the unspoken question.

“But we’re friends now, right?”

There was a beat of silence, and then Keith laughed. A proper, genuine, happy laugh.

“Yes, you dipshit. We’re friends now.”

Lance was starstruck. Dear god, he was so fucked. The way Keith smiled, his sharp eyes, his messy, long hair. He was the definition of gorgeous. And Lance was weak to the bad-boy look. He couldn’t believe that this was playing out like some stupid movie? At least he wasn’t some random; he was Shiro’s brother. Shiro had always said they would get along, and Lance was willing to swear he would never doubt Shiro ever again.

“Awesome. You’re gonna have to stop insulting me though.”

“Not a chance.”

“Fuck you, mullet.”

“How do expect to earn a tip with that attitude?”

“You’re not even paying me!”

“Move your arse, Lance.”

“I’m keeping your jacket.”

“I've changed my mind. We’re no longer friends.”

“Wow, rude.”

--------------------------------------------------

Keith glared. Hard. He wondered if he could set someone on fire if he glared at them with enough hate and anger. Unfortunately, that particular ability eluded him at the moment.

He now understood why Lance had been so hesitant to come back inside. And why he'd asked Keith for help. It wasn't that Lance couldn't hold his own in a fight, both physically and verbally (he'd heard stories from Shiro), but it was complicated when it came to club patrons. Lance wanted what was best for Allura and the club - he was completely loyal to it, a trait Keith admired greatly - but that meant he wasn't willing to piss of the pig that was currently tormenting him.

Keith was seconds away from exploding.

It was weird, really. He really had only known Lance for the shortest time but they had clicked in a way he hadn't expected. They were both, stubborn, competitive, trouble-makers who would do anything for their friends. They swapped insults like they were compliments and found joy is trying to annoy each other. But in mere minutes they had developed an understanding that it held hidden affection. Sure they were different people, but now they had met, it felt like there had never been a time that they hadn't known each other. They were friends. And Keith was protective of his friends.

Which is why he was seriously considering tearing another person’s arms off.

He wasn't exactly a stranger to confrontation and fights. It was an ongoing problem in his life that violence seemed drawn to him. But he was trying to hard to not make it difficult for Lance, or anyone else that would have to deal with the consequences of his lost temper. The problem was, it was hard when Lance was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. More than uncomfortable. He was hating it. Which was a shame; Lance shouldn't be made to hate the job he enjoyed so much.

The man who was the cause of Keith’s anger was a reasonably average looking business man who had way too much money. His blonde hair was slicked back, his tailored suit jacket slung over a chair, shirt half undone and stained with expensive champagne. And he was teasing Lance with a decently large wad of cash while his buddies surrounded them, effectively trapping Lance in the middle.

Lance was doing a good job of playing his role, laughing and acting flirty while trying not to give in to ridiculous requests, like taking the money from the guys zipper with his mouth. It was totally degrading bullshit that literally no one deserved.

Suddenly Lance’s face changed. It shut down. His smile disappeared and he look on an expression of blank fury. With all the grace and dignity he had left, he spun on his heel, spotted an opening and shot away. He didn’t get far. The customer’s hand shot out, wrapping around Lance’s wrist like a shackle, yelling something at him, and Lance looked scared.

Keith was out of his seat and moving towards them before he even realised what he was doing, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause as he reached them. Years and years of martial arts and bar fights gave Keith a distinct advantage over the spoilt slug in front of him, but he held back from turning his face into a bloody mess. Instead he grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting it so his grip on Lance was broken. He held the arm in a painful position for probably a few seconds longer than necessary before forcing him backwards and away from Lance.

The man stared at Keith for a few beats, probably trying to figure what had just happened, before he launched into a shouted tirade. It was one of those ones filled with “Don’t you know who I am?” and “I will sue you!” and the like. Keith rolled his eyes, only half listening. He felt Lance’s presence behind him, his fingers curling into the bottom edge of Keith’s shirt. He seemed ok, if a bit shaken, so Keith returned his attention to the man in front of him. He was about to answer when a sharply accented voice cut through the noise like a knife.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Allura had arrived. Keith had no idea what that meant for him. He didn’t regret his actions, but he may have fucked his chances at a job. He flinched slightly as the businessman began talking first.

“You’re the owner of this establishment, correct? You’re fucking entertainer has been nothing but rude to me! And this boy, his boyfriend or whatever, fucking assaulted me! I demand-”

“I wasn’t asking you, sir.”

Keith silently guffawed as Allura cut of the rest of the rant.

“Lance, honey? What happened?”

Lance curled slightly further into Keith’s back. Keith relaxed slightly and leant back into him, trying to offer some form of physical comfort. He wondered if in another circumstance he would get flustered at having Lance so close, wearing so little, but right now it barely even registered. It already felt so normal for them to be defending each other.

“Um…” Lance took a breath and raised his voice slightly to be heard clearly. “Mr. Barnes here broke the contact rule multiple times, and then asked me to do something that I would rather not repeat. He then grabbed my arm and tried to…”

It probably wasn’t visible to anyone else, but Keith could feel Lance shaking.

“Ah, then Keith came and broke the grip. That’s all he did.”

It wasn’t quite but Keith was infinitely grateful to Lance for covering for him, even if it the truth only varied in the slightest detail.

The man - Mr. Barnes, apparently - tried to speak again but Allura didn’t give him the chance.

“Sir, I trust my dancers at their word. You were breaking the rules of this club. You will need to leave.”

“But his-”

“This man,” She gestured to Keith. “Is on a temporary contract as a bouncer here. It is his job to defend the dancers against people like you. Leave. This instant. Or I will physically throw you out.”

Keith was stunned. Allura had just lied through her teeth on his behalf. He didn’t even know her, not really. Across the room, he saw Shiro and Pidge watching the scene with concern. Keith sent his brother a look that let him know it was covered, which Shiro acknowledged and they wandered off. Keith knew Shiro would talk to him about it later, but that wasn’t his current concern.

“Ah, Allura, I-”

“Don’t be silly, Keith.” She was very good at being in control, it seemed. “Now, to the change room, both of you. I will meet you there shortly to discuss what occurred fully.”

She strode off, leaving Keith gaping like a fish.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Lance’s voice was soft behind Keith. He nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Come on, we’d better do what she says. Though I could kill for another smoke, honestly.”

“I’ll give you one later.”

“Awesome! You rule, man.”

Keith followed Lance as he headed towards the ‘Staff Only’ door that led the the back rooms, watching him closely. Lance’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, but it was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He kept wringing them, or squeezing his arms, or touching things that they passed. Keith guessed it was a anxiety trait. He wanted to do something to help, but he had no idea what.

“Thank you, Keith… again.” They had passed through the door now, which meant that Keith could hear Lance’s quiet voice; and the way it wavered slightly as he spoke. “Seems like all I’m doing at the moment is thanking you, eh? Don’t get used to it.” He tried to smile, like he was making a joke, but the mask didn’t stay up and he looked away quickly.

“Lance… Oh, fucking hell. Come here.” With a noise of gentle exasperation, Keith made a grab for one of Lance’s hands, curling his own around it.