Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was totally Pidge’s fault even though she probably didn’t do it on purpose. Lance couldn’t bring himself to get mad at her for being so happy to see Keith, because—relatable, but her enthusiasm had caused Lance to end up with a lap full of, well, Keith.

“Oof! Wait, wait, wait, Pidge— wait!” were the words that made Lance look up from his phone and watch the scene unfold with a startled yelp. 

Hilarious from an outsider’s perspective, horror in Lance’s eyes.

Keith’s arms were flailing in a desperate attempt to regain his balance while the back of his knees were about to hit the couch Lance was sitting on, Pidge was clinging to him for dear life and making panicked noises, and poor, naïve Lance reacted instinctively by grabbing Keith’s waist – something he’d have to get over later – but it was futile.  

Sure, he was strong, but the combined weight of those two was way too much. His arms caved and Keith landed on top of him. With Pidge.

And Lance was dying.

“Ow, ow, Pidge, please get off— you’re crushing my— ow!”

“Sorry, I’m trying! Hold on—”

“Wait, we’re…”

It was as if Keith had just realized he was sitting on someone’s lap. One of his swinging hands had landed on Lance’s leg and was grasping it tightly for some reason and Lance was already halfway through writing his will when Keith looked over his shoulder, horrified.

At least now Lance was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who was embarrassed beyond saving because Keith’s eyes were a dead giveaway, along with the redness on his nose, which was slowly spreading to his cheekbones. Cute.

“Um.”

Yeah, that. Lance didn’t know what to say, let alone do, either, so they opted for staring at each other like a bunch of idiots. It wasn’t like Keith was that heavy, or anything, no, it was actually quite nice, like a comfortable weight grounding him. The fact that his fingers were still right under Keith’s ribs was something he probably had to worry about, though, but it wasn’t like Keith was trying to get away from him.

No, instead of throwing himself off him like Lance had expected him to the minute he fell, Keith’s eyes darted towards Lance’s hands, then his own hand that was holding Lance’s leg and Lance truly wished he could read minds at that very moment.

Maybe Pidge had casually removed herself from the somewhat tense situation and had scurried off to do whatever, leaving them in their awkward state, because he vaguely realized the weight had become lighter.

Aside from the “Um” from Keith, there’d been no dialogue between them and Lance was starting to worry he’d swallowed his tongue. The only sound in the room came from the speakers, which were connected to his phone and playing random songs of his favorite Spotify playlist, much to everyone’s chagrin. Anyway, other than that, no words, nada, zip.

“Lance?”

Talk, Lance.

He’d felt that. His name spoken in that soft, laced-with-worry voice against his cheek. Now it was his turn to feel hot and oh no, his face was red, wasn’t it.

There was no way Keith would not notice.

“Hi.”

Good one, Lance.

“… Hi,” Keith greeted back in a small mumble, smile crooked, and Lance noted that he smelled like fresh snow and his cologne. And that he was still touching Keith. “You okay?”

No, but Keith didn’t need to know that. How long were they gonna sit like this? For the rest of the night? Lance was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to handle that, even though he really liked being this close to his crush, but on the other hand, nu-uh. Nope.

His legs were gonna be dead within the next hour or so, which honestly didn’t seem that bad, like, that was the least of his problems here. They were allowed to die. It would be a pretty sweet death if it meant keeping Keith there. In his arms.

Oh.

Lance felt like his hands weren’t supposed to be there, so he loosened his grip a bit and, in a sheer moment of gay panic and uncoordinated thoughts, dropped them down to Keith’s hips. It was only a split second before he realized what he’d done and quickly pulled them back to his chest with a forced chuckle.

“… ‘m good, all’s good,” he squeaked out and wrung his guilty hands together, not daring to bring back their eye contact. “Not that I uh, don’t think we’re having a good bro moment here, or anythin’, but I um— could you—”

“Oh! Sure,” Keith somewhat awkwardly mumbled and pushed himself back onto his feet and, to top it all off, held out a hand for Lance to grab. “Let’s go get a drink.”

Yes, exactly. Good idea. Lance could use a drink.

Or five.

So, yeah, that happened. Lance was permanently hiding in his room, recovering from that wild experience like, Keith had been in his lap, okay. That was not nothing and he still couldn’t really believe it actually happened.

Of all things that could’ve gone wrong—

Okay, he had to calm down. It was an accident, everyone knew that. Of course Pidge had given him looks, damn her, because she knew about his crush and wouldn’t let him have one moment of peace and quiet. Hunk, bless his heart, had pretended the whole thing never happened to make sure Lance wouldn’t have a mental breakdown about it and uh, Keith.

Either that guy was pulling a Hunk, too, or had been too awkward to bring it up, which was honestly understandable, because Lance was feeling the exact same way. They’d had more movie and/or game nights where they would simply sit next to each other and talk like everything was totally cool and that they didn’t have some…

Accidental gay moment.

Not that sitting on someone’s lap couldn’t be platonic, but y’know.

It was gay to Lance ‘cause he was gay for Keith. Nothing more, nothing less.

So yeah. Lance had issues. And their current predicament wasn’t helping him in the slightest.

“I knew I should’ve brought my own car.”

Shiro and Adam were going on a trip together and their gang wanted to be nice and drop them off at the airport, meaning that everyone— everyone was gonna come with. A rational person would’ve thought this through, but no. Shiro had told them that there was nothing to worry about and that they would all fit in his big, gigantic, tank of a car.

“The four of you will be able to sit in the backseat, no problem,” he said.

Ha. Funny.

That genius and his boyfriend were sitting in the front while the other four, poor unfortunate souls were trying their best to squish themselves into the backseat. Even Pidge’s petite frame wasn’t small enough to make it happen, which was just sad.

“Okay, I’m— this isn’t— we’re not gonna—” Lance kept trying to say while trying not to get crushed under Keith’s and Pidge’s weight. A particularly painful jab into his side from someone’s elbow made him snap.

Turned out that Keith had had enough as well. “Fuck it, I’m taking the bus.”

“No, we gotta be there in thirty! You’re never gonna make it on time,” Shiro reasoned and had the decency to sound apologetic. Alas, Keith was unimpressed and was about to— climb over Lance, sure, okay, muttering under his breath. “Wait, guys, can’t one of you just…”

Why was Keith’s hand on his thigh. Again.

“Just what?” Keith asked, eyed him suspiciously.  

There were a few beats of silence in which Lance was slowly dying from the inside because of Keith’s warm hand. He still hadn’t moved and was stuck in this rather awkward position, half-leaning over Lance and, of course, holding onto his leg for leverage because why not.

Adam was the one to break the silence. “Pidge, you’re the lightest. Can’t you sit on someone’s lap, or something? It’ll only be for twenty minutes.”

“Not mine, I have a very small bladder,” Hunk pleaded with his big brown eyes and Lance could feel his blood running cold when Pidge oh so slowly turned to him with a look.

Oh, he knew where this was going and he didn’t like it. His thigh was still on fire by the way.

“Keith’s then?” Shiro tried meekly and ugh, why did he agree to go with them.

“Why do I have to sit on someone’s lap? Keith sure was comfortable sitting on Lance’s the other day.”

And there it was. Such abuse of power. Lance did his best to shoot her down with his eyes, but she didn’t even flinch, probably already used it thanks to Matt, dang it.

Both Lance and Keith responded to this by exclaiming “What?!” at the same time, as if that wasn’t suspicious and had to suffer through everyone’s snickers. This was so, so cruel and he couldn’t believe that his friends were being such assholes about this.

After everyone was done laughing, there was another moment of silence, this time even more awkward than before and Lance could’ve sworn that Keith had made this really weird, yet cute noise in the back of his throat. The endless grip on his thigh tightened for a couple of seconds, maybe subconsciously Lance couldn’t tell, but oh god.

Eye contact.

With Keith.

“… That okay with you?” Keith broke that damn silence and Lance was sure his spirit had left his body in that very second because how was he supposed to react to this?

He couldn’t just happily oblige and say, “Oh yeah, sure, bud! Have a seat!” ‘cause that’d be stupid, but he didn’t wanna sound repulsive, either, ‘cause he didn’t wanna be an ass. Plus, they were on the clock here and he didn’t have time to mull this over.

“Uh—”

“Lance,” Shiro urged and— sternly looked over his shoulder. “like Adam said, it’s only for twenty minutes. C’mon, dude, we’re all adults here.”

Except Pidge because she was doing her best and failing to hide her massive smirk behind the back of her hand, that traitor. Sadly, Lance didn’t have time to hate her because Keith was already pulling some weird gymnastic moves to shove his legs between Lance’s legs and Adam’s seat and Lance… wasn’t sure how to help except for laying a hand between Keith’s shoulder blades to make sure he wouldn’t fall.

Some grunting and yelps of pain from Pidge later (Lance was like 89% sure Keith’s kick to her shins had not been an accident), Keith was once again, sitting on his lap. It was a little less comfortable this time due to their limited amount of space, so their legs were permanently pressed together and Lance was forced to look to the side because Keith’s nape was in his face.

And to think this couldn’t get any worse—

“Make sure to hold on tight because you guys can’t put your seatbelts on,” Adam warned with only a hint of humor in his voice as Shiro started the car and took off.  

Yes, Adam. Of course, Adam.

Honestly, Lance needed a lawyer. The first time was probably not on purpose, but after the third time of Shiro practically slamming the brakes and Lance having to circle his arms around Keith’s waist to keep him from breaking his nose against Adam’s seat, it couldn’t be a coincidence anymore. (Un)fortunately this had led to Lance permanently having his arms around Keith’s middle to make sure he wouldn’t tip over and hurt himself.

Everything felt hot. Like, way too hot. Keith kept switching between holding onto Adam’s headrest and letting his hands rest on his own legs and Lance couldn’t stop himself from staring at Keith’s fidgeting.  

It wasn’t like he had much else to look at. The eh, view was nice, he supposed, and he refused to look at Pidge since she wouldn’t stop giving him those annoying looks, knowing fully well what she had done.

At least Keith smelled good.

… Fuck.

He was gonna die, wasn’t he.

“We there yet?” Lance said to his window.

Thanks to the loud engine of the car, Keith was the only one to have heard him. And oh no, turned to frown at him. “What?”

Without moving his head, Lance dared to look up. “I asked if we’re there yet.”

And for some reason, Keith laid a hand on Lance’s without breaking eye contact, his frown deepening, worry lacing his voice as he spoke, “You okay?”

No. “Oh, yeah, totally.” His legs had fallen asleep a long time ago. “I uh, gotta pee, that’s all.”

Obviously Keith didn’t buy it, Lance could see it in the small eyebrow raise, but Keith pivoted and called, “Shiro, how much longer?” while still— holding Lance’s hand.

“Almost there!” Shiro shot a quick grin over his shoulder, which Lance totally didn’t buy.

Great. “What’s almost?”

“Oh, hey,” Pidge interrupted their useless banter and used Hunk as leverage to look out the window. “Pretty sure this is a detour, Shiro.”

What.

“Really?” Shiro’s tone said it all and Lance could not believe he and Keith were poor victims of some evil masterplan. “Oh, yeah, now that you mention it. Doesn’t matter, though. We’ll still get there on time, won’t we?”

“Definitely!”

Surprisingly, Keith leaned all the way forward until his forehead was pressed against Adam’s headrest, somewhat lightening the weight on Lance’s dead legs.

Was this… was Keith angsting, or something? What was he doing? Lance had no idea and was about to ask when Shiro blindly reached backwards to pat Keith’s knee.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you. We’re almost there, I promise.”

Shiro was right. One mishap and Keith would probably break his nose, so he opted for going all the way back until Lance had to duck to make sure his nose was safe. The angle was a little awkward now that Keith was using Lance’s chest as a pillow for his back, but at least he wasn’t running the risk of getting a bad nosebleed.

Instead of questioning it, Lance shyly looped a single arm around Keith’s stomach and folded his hands together to secure his grip because, well, he still had to make sure his lap buddy wouldn’t get thrown against the chair. Keith didn’t seem to mind. Not even when Lance rested his cheek against his arm to make the angle a little less painful.

Their position didn’t change for the rest of the ride. Sometimes there would be a bump or Shiro would do that stupid brake thing again, which made Lance instinctively tighten his grip until he and Keith would practically become one. His face would be buried in Keith’s bicep, his hands would probably dig painfully into Keith’s hip, but ‘twas all good.

All good, all good.

Except it wasn’t.  

Getting out of the car was a whole ‘nother experience.

When they finally got there, Keith had to pull some very interesting acrobatic moves to make sure he wouldn’t land face first onto the pavement while avoiding bruising his cushion, a.k.a. Lance.

Luckily, Shiro had a heart and helped him get out of the car. Lance needed a little help, too, because his legs were beyond numb. Wasn’t sure whether he could ever use them again and shamelessly stretched them all the way to the gate, much to everyone’s entertainment.

And of course, to top it all off:

“Wait a second… can you give me the ticket?”

“Here, babe. Everything okay?”

“Yep. Like I thought, our flight’s tomorrow.”

Lance had to psychically restrain Keith once Adam revealed it was just a joke and that no, Keith wouldn’t have to sit on Lance’s lap again.

Oh, yeah. Definitely part of an evil masterplan.

Another one of those nights where Lance could blame everything on the alcohol.

The reason why he was sitting so close to Keith and barely grazing his thigh with his fingertips was because Lance was tipsy and had kind of stopped caring about personal space. Keith didn’t seem to mind, though, and simply sat there, watching as Pidge got up from her chair to stand in the middle of the small living room and do a rather hilarious attempt at dancing to The Ketchup Song.

Both Hunk and Lance started singing along, or at least, Lance was singing and Hunk hummed along and yelled the lyrics when the chorus came along, which encouraged her to truly turn it into a performance, dramatically moving her arms and hips to their slurred lyrics. It didn’t take long for Lance to jump off the couch and join her, trying to drag Keith with him, who very much declined, sadly, but he shimmied over to Pidge anyway.

“All right, turn over!” Pidge said after the song ended and bowed dramatically to take the loud applause. “Next one is… Allura!”

Allura, who was getting some water from the kitchen called out, “Truth!” resulting in everyone, except for Keith, to groan in displeasure.

“Boring!” Lance leaned his head all the way back against the couch so he could look at her upside down. “We’re, like, on round four and you haven’t even picked ‘dare’ once!”

His words didn’t seem to have any effect on Allura as she went back to their spot and placed a few bottles of water on the table in the middle. “Pidge?”

“What’s the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done?” she read from her phone.

Another typical Truth/Dare question, but Lance wasn’t complaining. Honestly, this was their last week before classes started and he had insisted on a night to themselves. He and Hunk had brought the alcohol, Allura, Romelle and Keith were responsible for snacks and other drinks and Pidge would take care of the music and games.

And of course, Shiro and Adam were there to make sure things wouldn’t get out of hand.

Lance glanced around the room as Allura started telling this vanilla story of her and Romelle which was far from dirty, and his eyes fell on Keith again.

The problem was that Keith had barely had anything to drink, except for that one empty beer bottle that he was holding loosely, and that he, too, had only picked ‘truth’ so far. In these past three rounds, he’d at least answered every question so far: yes, he watched porn every now and then, no, he wasn’t interested in having a threesome and no, he’d never had sex in public.

Even though Lance was obviously interested in hearing these things, something had to happen.

“Want another drink?” Lance asked him in an almost believable casual tone. The alcohol had affected his acting skills as well.

Keith looked at him, casually, and blinked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk.”

The amount of sarcasm hit Lance right in the chest and he clutched his shirt in mock offense. “Keith, my man, buddy, amigo, I’d never. Here, hold my beer.”

Without even waiting for a response, Lance shoved his drink into Keith’s free hand and reached for their alcohol stash on the table in the middle. Allura had finished her story and started downing her bottle of water like the responsible woman that she was, and Pidge looked over at Lance.

“Your turn, loverboy.”

“Dare, what else,” Lance mumbled as he continued to mix all sorts of drinks together and smirked up at her. “You know what they say about people who can’t sit in chairs like a normal person, right?”

Not the least bit impressed, Pidge tapped on her phone and slumped even further until her legs were dangling off the arm of the chair. “Do tell, oh wise one.”

“Means you’re gay.”

Pidge pursed her lips and shrugged. “Your dare is to kiss the person on your left on the back of their neck.”

… Oh. It was a good thing Lance had just finished the drink and quickly swapped it with Keith’s beer. Keith, that dude who was sitting on his left. “Here. Drink. Sounds like you’re gonna need it.”

“Lance,” Shiro warned and Lance waved him off. “don’t tell me you made that extra strong.”

“Don’t worry,” Lance drawled and practically glugged his beer, slamming it on the table and reaching for another one. “’s all good.”

Keith was watching the large cup with a skeptical look before he took a small sip. Pidge was watching everything curiously from her curled up position on the chair, the smirk still on her face, and waved her phone around. “We’re waiting, Lance.”

Again, the alcohol made everything a lot easier. They were already sitting pretty close and it would be really easy to just— lean in and go for it. Keith, however, noticed him inching closer and stopped in the middle of his sip.

“What’re you doing?”

“Kissing the back of your neck, what does it look like I’m doing.”

Apparently Keith hadn’t been paying attention earlier and moved so far back he nearly fell off the couch. “’scuse me?”

Awkward silence. Literally no one talked and Lance knew he should’ve been embarrassed but the alcohol soothed his nerves like the great friend it was. “Y’know, the dare.”

Keith’s mouth fell open and he gaped at Lance for a solid three seconds before he glanced over at Pidge who waved the phone around to back up what Lance had told him. Everyone else stayed silent, either bored or endlessly entertained at the scene, Lance couldn’t exactly tell since he was so focused on Keith’s freak out.

“The two of you will have to have to drink if you’re not gonna let him do it,” she declared and oh, Lance had totally forgotten that there was a way out of this.

Not that he wanted to get out of… getting to kiss the back of Keith’s neck.

Anyway.

To clear things up, Keith sat up and, holy shit, threw his head back to gulp down a good amount of alcohol.

“Man, that kinda hurts my feelings,” Lance pouted, but followed Keith’s example nonetheless. Like a champ. A champ who desperately needed to get his mind out of the gutter.

He barely paid attention to Romelle’s turn because he was too focused on watching Keith slowly but surely taking more and more sips of his drink, which stroked his ego big time. He knew he was good at making drinks and heavily enjoyed watching Keith enjoy it.

Another turn went by and Lance was so distracted by Keith biting the edge of the cup that he jumped when he heard his name.

“What, what?”

Didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Keith, um, draped himself over Lance’s lap like a cat, or something. “Have to sit on someone’s lap for an entire round. Too lazy to get up, so this’ll have to do.”

Okay. Okay. Even the alcohol could not prepare him for Keith using his thigh as a pillow. For Keith to be so cool about this. For Keith to… exist in the same space as him. In this tiny little space.

Itty bitty living space.

Lance, not knowing what else to do, laid a hand on Keith’s shoulder in some sort of lame attempt to make this a little more bro friendly. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

“It’s only for one round,” Pidge chirped, eyes never leaving her phone. Eyes that sparkled with nothing but mischief. “Hm, although, I’m craving some ice-cream right now. Anyone wanna join me to go to the store real quick?”

Heathen.

Thot.

Devil.

“Lemme guess,” Lance began even though he already knew the answer. “the game will still be going while you’re gone.”

“Yep,” Pidge continued to gloat and hopped off the chair. “Guess you two can’t come ‘cause you have to stay like that until it’s Keith’s turn again. Okay, who’s sober enough to walk?”

Ugh.

Only a few minutes had gone by and Lance hated his life more than anything. He couldn’t breathe without thinking that he’d somehow bother Keith or somehow make it even more awkward than it already was. Well, it wasn’t that awkward, since Keith was not really sober and didn’t seem to mind this position all that much, which actually made Lance even more nervous.

Besides, it wasn’t like they were alone or anything. The rest of the gang was still there, pretentiously minding their own business while Lance was tragically starting to sober up and becoming more and more aware of the fact that Keith was laying right there. He’d closed his eyes after a while and was absently playing with Lance’s loose pockets.

Not good.

“You can sit up, y’know.”

“Pidge told me to tell you that you’ll have to drink if you do.”

“Fuck off, Hunk.”  

Keith, that traitor, laughed along with Hunk and patted Lance’s thigh, of all places. “Don’t worry about it. Your legs make a pretty good pillow.”

Oh. “Really?”

“Yeah, ‘s fine. Also you smell kinda good.” Hmm. Keith was nosing his jeans. This was so not healthy. This was a personal attack on whatever was left of Lance’s dignity. “And it isn’t like this hasn’t happened before. You should be used to it by now, don’t you think?”

Not in the way Keith thought, but sure.

Lance kinda hummed along and stroked Keith’s back because that was most likely the safest option. Sadly, Keith didn’t really respond to his touch and instead snuggled further into his pants, which was just… yeah. At this point, Lance was worried that Keith was gonna fall asleep, but did he truly not want that to happen? It’d be so cute and definitely not a problem, or anything, but if Lance wanted to survive, then he’d have to keep Keith awake.

If Pidge ever decided to come back of course.

(She did.)

(Keith ended up falling asleep and Lance was forced to sit there for the remainder of the night and power through it.)

(He had officially fallen asleep on Lance.)

(Yeah.)

What was worse than crunches? Sit-ups. Lance hated sit-ups more than anything and yet, there he was. His feet pinned to the floor by Keith’s hands as he heaved and forced his upper body up for the—

“Fff— am I at 50 yet?”

“34. Keep going,” Keith grinned because of course that bastard was enjoying this. Enjoyed seeing Lance in pain and ugh, that iron hold on his feet was so annoying. Like, sure, that was how sit-ups needed to be done and all, not to mention that Lance was pretty sure he’d cheat his way through if it hadn’t been for Keith, but still.

His core was burning. He was panting like he’d run a couple of miles already, there was sweat everywhere, and heat teasingly crawled up his neck. In other words, he looked like a mess in front of Keith and it was the worst.

Keith, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit and tapped his bare ankle with his index. “Almost there. No breaks.”

“God, stop enjoying my pain,” Lance panted and brought himself up once again, touching his knees with his chest before going back to the floor and ignored  Keith’s stupidly cute laughter. “Why am I doing this. I don’t wanna be ripped anyway.”

“This is not gonna give you a sixpack, don’t worry,” Keith reassured him and grinned when they were at eye-level again. “36. Doin’ great.”

Was he? Really? ‘Cause he was starting to feel like he was actually dying. Like, legitimately dying, which is what he pretty much felt like every time he worked out, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle it.

… Right?

Never mind.

Another tap on his ankle. “Stop tryin’ to cheat. Don’t make me put my whole body weight into it.”

“I can’t help it! My legs are my friends and wanna help me out. Unlike you,” Lance defended without blinking and pulled himself up again. Their eyes met and he made a show of puffing out some much needed air. “How you can plank for fifteen minutes is beyond me.”

“Training everyday will do that for you— Lance. Easy on the neck. Feet and lower back stay on the ground.”

Damn, Keith was putting his foot down. Literally. Wasn’t exactly helping the heat, ha. Oh, god.

It wasn’t like Keith was putting any effort into pushing his feet into the floor. The guy was just sitting there on his knees, fingers wrapped around his ankles, giving him an encouraging squeeze every time he managed to pull himself up and hm, Lance hadn’t quite realized the severity of the situation until now.

Anyway. Holding his feet down. Pain. Sweat, burning abs. As if someone was squeezing the life out of his stomach and then some.

“Ten more. C’mon, nearly there!” Keith gave his lower legs a little tug and shit, that was cute. It motivated Lance to drag his body up a few more times, exhaling every time and trying not to pull on his neck. “Nine… eight…”

Seeing Keith’s excited smile every time he raised himself up was enough to keep going and going and going until um.

“Okay, hold on…” Keith’s smile turned malicious and that asshole sat up and oh god, pushed Lance’s feet into the floor with his whole upper body and frig, this was so not okay. “Go.”

Damn, Keith was good. Lance hadn’t even realized he’d been dividing his weight like that and holy mother of—

Nope, nope, nope. Couldn’t do one more. Now that Keith was doing everything he could to hold him down, Lance figured that he wouldn’t be able to continue unless he lifted his feet just a teeny tiny bit? His current angle wasn’t doing him any favors as he was stuck halfway through the sit-up and couldn’t push himself up any further.

The pain in his upper abdomen was out of this world and if Keith didn’t drop that attitude right fucking now.

“Seven more, you’re almost there!” that asswipe called and gave his ankles another one of those stupid squeezes. “C’mon, you gotta push yourself.”

Lance was so done with life as he pulled through with an over-exaggerated groan, his core trembling like no tomorrow. When their faces were only inches away from each other, Lance decided to be mean and shove his right foot forward the moment he sensed a point of weakness.  

The worst thing happened, though. Keith, not having expected that whatsoever, fell forward and ended up sprawled all over Lance’s shaking body. Lance made the hottest (read: not) sound ever and, like the first time, automatically reached for Keith’s sides, grasping them tightly in an attempt to minimalize the damage, which did exactly nothing of course.

Damage was already done. Keith was groaning into his stomach. Their upper bodies were somewhat aligned and Lance couldn’t help but stare at Keith’s toned arms that ended up on either side of his body in an impressive attempt to avoid smacking him in the face. Not to mention that Keith’s legs were caged between Lance’s and ugh, Lance should’ve thought this through. Should’ve thought about the consequences of having Keith lying on top of him.

“Lance!”

“Sorry!” he squeaked back. “I thought you’d fall sideways or backways— I mean wards, backwards, or whatever, I’unno, I’m sorry!”

Keith pushed himself up with his arms in one fluid motion because Lance couldn’t have nice things and crawled forward until his face was hovering above Lance’s collarbone. “Fine. Wanna try something different?”

What. Lance wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what that meant. Their current position was very dangerous, doing exceptionally bad things to his blood pressure and he didn’t know if he could take much more. Didn’t know if he would make it out of this one. His life had become a complete disaster ever since Keith accidentally fell right into his lap and, at the time, Lance was pretty sure he’d never be the same again and boy, he was right.

You’d think he’d be used to having a lap full of Keith right now, but no.

Instead of getting used to it, his panic only rose up to a boiling point. Their proximity wasn’t exactly helping, either.

“… Different?” Lance dared to ask.

“To make sure you won’t cheat your way through it.”

Really. Keith was still talking about the damn work out. Things couldn’t be more ironic, Lance thought dumbly, until Keith shuffled backwards until he was—

Straddling him. As in, sitting on his thighs— no, Lance was not making this up. Keith was right there, his offensive ass pulling this shit and Lance honestly couldn’t believe that he was still breathing. It was a good thing that Keith let him do fifty sit-ups otherwise all the blood rushing towards his face for different reasons had been a dead giveaway.

(Lance thought his crush was pretty subtle.)

“What are you doing.”

“Making sure you can’t cheat.”

Lance stared at him with the widest eyes. “You’re saying you want me to do another fifty? Uh, no, nu-uh. Not gonna happen.”

“Well, technically,” Keith started, his tone playful yet misleading, as the pads of his fingers touched his stomach, right where his abs were currently burning. “you never reached fifty ‘cause you used your legs for that last one. So, you owe me at least one more.”

Ha, more like, Keith owed him a new heart because Lance’s just dropped out of his chest, through the floor, through the ground, somewhere buried and to be never found again. Did that guy seriously expect Lance to do another sit-up with him sitting— there. Like that. Fingertips burning holes into his shirt with their warmth, strong thighs keeping him secure and immobile and uh, not to mention those eyes challenging him silently.

They were playing a very dangerous game that Lance would’ve been all for if it wasn’t for Keith bending the rules into submission.

And Lance was dumb enough to go with it. He was seriously dumb enough to reach for his neck, fingers barely brushing against his sweaty skin as to not hurt himself, take a deep breath through his nose and push himself up one last time. Keith’s hand immediately retreated as soon as he realized what Lance was doing and bit his lip on a grin. To make things even more difficult, he blindly reached for Lance’s shins, pushing them into the floor, too.

Dumb, stupid, dumb. It was a lot more difficult for various reasons. Main reason being that Keith’s body heat was seeping through their clothes, making Lance’s legs feel like they were being roasted. Not to mention that Keith was right about him not being able to cheat his way through it this time.

It was all up to his abs. His poor, poor abs. His core was trembling so bad that it was honestly a miracle he managed to pull himself all the way up until— oh god.

Until their noses touched.

This was officially the best and worst day of Lance’s life.

Yeah, he dropped right back down.

“At least tell me I have a sixpack right now.”  

And the cherry on top of this gay ass cake was Keith pinching the hem of his shirt, lifting it up with fake curious eyes and poking the still trembling abs.

Lance did not squeak, shut up.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

Lance’s eyes were mocking as they glared up at him. “Guess I’m suing your ass.”

But Keith didn’t take the bait and, almost delicately, let his shirt fall back down, patting his aching muscles with a smile. “In all seriousness, you did really well. Keep this up and,” he paused and let both of his hands fall on Lance’s stomach, closing some of their distance, which wasn’t good for his fallen heart. “maybe you’ll get that sixpack. If it’s your genes, that is.”

“Uh huh.” Lance wasn’t paying attention. Couldn’t. Not with Keith’s hands practically giving him tummy rubs like he was a dog or something.

But then one of those hands reached for his and grasped it tightly. “Time for stretching and cool off.”

“Ugh, Keeeeeith—”

“Now.”

“Fine.”

They were supposed to be at the café at ten, but Lance was running a little late. Blame it on his alarm for not blaring loudly enough to yank him out of his sleep. It wasn’t his fault for staying up so late the night before and his body reacting to it by grabbing every ounce of sleep it could get.

Nope. Totally the alarm.

And the puppy videos.

On his way there, he ran into the one and only Keith, who’d just rounded the corner.

“Hey!” Lance called, his voice still somewhat groggy due to only being awake for approximately ten minutes, and managed to catch up with him after Keith turned around and waited with a wavering smile. “Decided to join the late squad, too, huh?”

Rather than a verbal reply, Keith went with a small hum and, was it him, or was Keith a little closer than necessary? Not that Lance’s personal space bubble had stopped him before, ha, not after all that lap action, no. Wasn’t bad, or anything. Keith smelled amazing as usual and Lance detected a hint of his shower gel and, hello shampoo.  

Lovely.

“So, what’s your excuse?” was the attempt at small talk as they fell into a lazy stroll towards the café, which was a few minutes away still. It looked like Keith was struggling to find an answer to his very simple questions, so Lance decided to help him out by babbling some more. “Wait, wait, lemme guess. You spent all that time trying to find the right shade of red for your jacket? Or, oh, oh! Kosmo tried eat your gloves again?”

The small bump against his shoulder made him smile. “That was one time. And only because he was teething.”

“Mhm, so what about the first one?” Lance’s smile stretched out further into a grin and returned the shoulder bump. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re wasting away your time in front of a mirror.”

Not that he could blame him.

“Says you—”

“For your information,” Lance didn’t hesitate to counter and held up a wise finger. “I have my reasons for that. You don’t think that this,” a quick flick of the wrist towards his figure. “just happens like that?” Snap of the fingers. “No, my dear grasshopper. Beauty takes time.”

“Lance.”

“Yes.”

They stopped. Keith had shoved his hands in the pockets of his fluffy coat and oh, why hadn’t Lance noticed how incredibly cute Keith looked in autumn? With his thick coat, bright red beanie pulled over his ears to criminally hide a couple of his piercings, which was actually doing Lance a favor because now he couldn’t get distracted by those stupid things—

Never mind. Didn’t matter what Keith wore or didn’t wear (ha), Lance would forever be gay panicking in his presence and had issues with his appearance no matter what.

Like, the tip of Keith’s nose was cutely flushed due to the cold, along with his cheeks, and Lance was seriously having trouble not kissing all those red spots. They were right there, waiting to be kissed. If only Lance could lean in, just a teeny tiny bit, he’d be able to lay a couple of sweet kisses on Keith’s cold skin. They were already pretty close, anyway, so it wasn’t a total weird thing to do.

Wait, why were they so close? When did that happen? And why were Keith’s lashes so long and pretty?  

“Do you wanna go out sometime?”

Aha. Haha.

Funny.

Time to reevaluate his life choices again, because what.

Lance licked his dried up lips, smacked them, averted his gaze for a good two seconds before his eyes fell back on Keith’s. “Uh,” he began intelligently. “you mean, like, um.” Honestly, he didn’t know what that meant, other than the obvious of course, but Keith wouldn’t… couldn’t. “Out, out?”

It took a while for Keith to answer and during those annoying two seconds, his smile turned into a lazy grin. And it was not okay. “Doesn’t have to be out,” he spoke in a casual tone as if he wasn’t experiencing Lance having a mental breakdown right in front of him. “We could also stay in and watch a movie, or something. Up to you.”

How was Lance supposed to function. How. Was Keith actually— seriously asking him out? Right here? Right now?

“Dude,” Lance whispered, perplexed. “don’t play with a guy’s feelings like that. It’s not polite.”

A deadly chuckle. “Why would you think I’m playing with your feelings? Besides, you’re not answering my question, so that makes you the impolite one here.”

He’d taken another step closer, daringly and optimistically, and played with the sleeves of Lance’s jackets. A few inches lower would inevitably end up in handholding and Lance didn’t know whether he’d survive that.

Keith was right, though. Lance had been avoiding the question up until now, but that was only because he wasn’t sure how to formulate an appropriate answer other than, “Yes, please, I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time and I don’t know how to live my life anymore,” but, y’know, that would be considered inappropriate.

Tentative and shy fingers played with his and Lance was lowkey looking for some kind of sign that would help him through this. Keith’s fingers were so warm, so nice and soft, so dangerous, whereas Lance’s fingers were probably freezing, possibly clammy as well. Not sexy.

Damn, his fingers needed to step up their game as soon as possible.

Squeeze. “Lance?”

“Shh, my brain’s too busy shutting down.”

Another squeeze, a little firmer this time. “I take it that’s a good thing.”

“It is,” Lance affirmed helpfully and was proud to say that he returned the squeeze while managing a smile. “Are you really asking me out?”

Keith raised their linked hands, which shouldn’t be that cute, but it was. Their fingers were truly intertwined now, completely enveloped, swaying back and forth in the air as the two smiled at each other.

“I am,” was the final straw that caused Lance to let out a weird bird-like noise and drop his head onto Keith’s shoulder. And ignored the huff of laughter that brushed past his reddening ear. “Lance. You’re so fucking dramatic.”

“Dunno if you’ve realized, Keith, but a really hot guy just asked me out,” Lance reasoned after he pulled back and booped Keith on the nose, because that was obviously gonna put him in his place. “I have every right to be dramatic, don’t you think?”

It was stupid. So stupidly adorable to watch Keith scrunch up his nose in mock offense before snorting with even more adorable laughter and looking at Lance with those soft, dark eyes of his. They were giving him so many feelings all at once, unfairly so, and Lance could only smile at him and lay his arms over Keith’s shoulders.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this fantastic bro-moment we’re having (“Lance.”), but we should probably meet up with the others before they start thinking that we’re doing something that’s— well, y’know.”

“Mhm,” Keith unhelpfully continued to feed his never-ending gay panic. It seemed that his handsome face was permanently stuck in a smile and it wasn’t like Lance was complaining, most certainly not, no, it was just very distracting.

“Keith.”

“Hm.”

“We gotta go.”

“Then let’s go. I’m not doing anything.”

God, okay. Lance did his best not to combust on the spot and used his right arm that was still draped over Keith’s shoulders to drag him along to the café.

Lo and behold, everyone was already there, curious eyes following their every movement until they were standing at their booth. Still somewhat attached to the hip and everyone looked very happy with this.

Evil masterplan.

“Sorry we’re late,” Lance blurted out because no one was saying anything and Keith had put his arm around his waist at some point during their walk and he didn’t know how, when, where and— bluh.

“That’s okay,” Pidge drawled and her eyes scanned them up and down, lingering on Lance’s waist where Keith’s hand still was for a little too long to be subtle before they went back up again. “So, you guys together now?” And before either of them could even open their mouths, she added, “Fucking finally.”

It was probably better to ignore this and move on. Simply ignore Hunk’s proud grin, Allura’s and Romelle’s somewhat innocent gaze, Pidge’s look, and oh god no.

There was only one spot left. Of course. Because why not.

Yep, okay, no doubt about it. This entire thing was a set-up and Lance was not having it.

Gotta show ‘em who’s boss.

So, like a hero, he gently let go of Keith, sat down and held out his hands towards his— date. His guy. Keith, that guy. “You wanna sit here?”

There was a round of laughter, applause even, and yeah, the lovely feel of Keith’s back pressed against his chest once again, his fragrance, the grounding weight and that familiar snugness he’d admittedly missed a lot.

But luckily, probably, hopefully there’d be many more times to come.  

Just a few more minutes and Lance would be done with this stupid assignment. Didn’t matter that this was probably the biggest bullshit someone had ever put on paper and that he could already hear his teacher cackling from all the way across town, as long as he handed in something, right?

That was what Lance kept telling himself as his fingers flew over the keys, barely even touching them as he forced out sentence after sentence.

Almost there, almost there—

“Hey.”

Damn it.

As gracefully as he could manage with the last grains of energy he had left, Lance turned around in his chair and came face to face with his… heh, boyfriend. Which usually wouldn’t be a problem but said boyfriend appeared to be as tired as Lance felt and had this – dare he say it – pout on his face. And Lance didn’t know how to handle that pout or how to fix it without jumping off his chair and wrapping his arms around him.

Lance leaned against the back of the chair and gave Keith a lopsided smile. “Hi.”

“… Hi,” Keith mumbled and took a step forward. And another, and another until he was between Lance’s legs. Knees brushing against his thighs. The lovely smell of Keith’s trademark cologne, which he’d never get used to, taking over his senses and making him feel dizzy. “Wanna take a break?”

Which was Keith for: “I wanna make out.”

Which was, y’know, very tempting.

Especially because those dark eyes were practically hypnotizing him with their hunger, like, what. How could one person be so convincing with their eyes alone? Apparently said boyfriend because he had slung a leg over Lance’s and Lance was willingly letting him take a seat on his lap and— okay, this was seriously not good for Lance’s heart.

Arms laid themselves over his shoulders, just dangling there, not even doing anything. Except driving Lance crazy.

“You’re not playing fair,” he managed to choke out like a true soldier.

Seemed like Keith did his best not to laugh out loud, but was failing as the corners of his lips curled upwards and, hm, his nose did that little thing where it scrunched up. “Are you complaining?”

“No,” Lance’s mouth betrayed him.

“Good.”

Keith inched forward and slotted their lips together.