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He was running late. Awfully late, might I add. And okay fine, maybe he wouldn't be in this slightly troubling situation if he had woken up at the time that his alarm clock had so cordially woken him up. Well, actually, he did wake up at the right time. His eyes had reluctantly opened, his senses had shot up, his throat had automatically demanded for a glass of water because God why had he gone to bed without even having had a sip of a healthy liquid... and after experiencing what could be described as the worst morning ever, he had gone back to sleep, burying his face in his fluffy, squishy pillow, after having turned it over to make contact with the cold texture. Aw, the little pleasures of life.
Fortunately, and because his sense of responsibility had apparently prevented him from immersing himself in too deep a sleep, Lance had woken up again after a specific hour, suffering exactly the same symptoms as the first time his blue orbs had been opened to give a warm welcome to the daylight. He had gotten out of bed, almost tripping over a blue toy car he had lying around (don't ask why, I doubt anyone knows the answer), and then he had gone to get some healthy breakfast, because good Lord, his stomach had been complaining since the night before.
It probably hadn't been the best idea to have nachos and melted cheese for dinner, but in his defence he'd say it was all, entirely Hunk's fault.
Last night was a special occasion, as his best friend, Hunk, had finally managed to ask Shay out after chatting about how smart and beautiful and adorable she was behind her back (talking behind someone's back... Wow, rude much?). He and Pidge had encouraged him over and over again to man up and ask her out, because it was pretty obvious that she felt the same way. Believe me, the looks they exchanged when they were dissecting some poor unfortunate frog in physics class should be illegal. So pure of worship and love... ew.
So how could they not celebrate when a miracle had practically happened? It had certainly been a crazy night. Well, it depends on what your definition of crazy is. There had been no alcohol, no girls in bikinis, no... big party that all the popular boys go to. Just the three of them, lying on the couch, eating nachos and buttered popcorn, enjoying whatever Netflix recommended. The machine never fails when it comes to guessing your guilty pleasures.
So yeah, he had gone to bed... late, and he had woken up late, and maybe, just maybe, he had a job interview in... 5 minutes, but it didn't matter, because everything was going to be fine, perfectly fine. Lance just had to come up with a plan to go faster. Uh, it probably wouldn't hurt to mix his cereal with his toothpaste... practically both were designed to keep them in your mouth for a short amount of time, right? Perfect, he had already devised how to eat his cereals and brush his teeth at the same time, now he had to get dressed, comb his hair...
Keith wasn't happy. Of course, according to Shiro, he was never happy, judging by his apparent permanent scowl. But despite what his brother said, this time, one hundred percent, he wasn't happy. Did he have a reason? Of course he had a reason, he wasn't a complaining child who got upset by any small and unimportant little fuss.
Now, before I reveal the cause of his anger, I see it necessary to mention that... it was not serious. And certainly, the reaction the black-haired man was showing was exaggerated, but he couldn't help it. Yeah, well, maybe now he was acting like a whiny kid who always, always gets away with what he wants, and when his plans look crooked, he rebels and makes a fuss. But... He was 21, so... you know, he wasn't a kid in the middle of a tantrum, he was an adult in the middle of a tantrum worthy of adults.
Basically, Shiro had thought it was a good idea to cancel the afternoon plans he had already arranged with Keith, so that he could take advantage of his suddenly free time and go out with Allura. And hey, he wasn't opposing to the relationship they had built step by step, he wholeheartedly supported them. He'd even make t-shirts with their faces printed on them if he cared enough. The problem was that Shiro had not even mentioned it to him in advance.
It had slipped out while they were having breakfast, involuntarily, meaning he wasn't planing on telling him anytime soon. Keith, of course, had acted rationally, accepting that his brother had other plans, a life in which he had nothing to do with anything. But, funny thing, that... that's not how it went. He hadn't exploded or anything like that, he was working on controlling his temper, but he had frowned, abandoned the untouched bowl above the kitchen counter, and went to his room, slamming the door shut with a remarkable slam.
Shiro had apologized, and had also asked where such a reaction was coming from, for Keith usually showed no such outbursts, and the younger one knew it, he was aware of it. But... lately, since Allura had entered their lives, he had been feeling out of place, like a stranger in his own home, and he didn't understand it, nor like it.
Keith liked Allura. She was an optimistic and attentive woman who always helped Shiro in every way she could, it would be a crime to say that he did not like the woman, or that he did not appreciate her efforts to care for his brother, who more often than not forgot to eat or dine because he was too focused on his current jobs. Extra jobs he had because somehow he had to pay for the mortgage on the house, a problem Keith was contributing to, but not enough to get Shiro to keep just one job, instead of having to do horrible, awful jobs all the time and get crappy salaries in return.
Maybe it was fear... maybe he was afraid that Allura would end up replacing him. After all, she did everything he had done for Shiro since they were children, and it was now quite evident that Shiro no longer needed him, having someone by his side who loved him and did not cause him as much trouble as Keith had involuntarily caused. Well, if the day came when Shiro no longer needed him, the man... would give his place to Allura, or whatever. She'd do a better job than him, that's for sure.
"And why do you think you're fit for this job, son?" questioned a middle-aged man, watching every reaction Lance gave through his transparent glasses. More than once he raised his chubby hand to the bridge of his nose, so that he could lift them up after they had been sliding to the bottom. That, for some strange and mysterious reason, caused the nerves that had initially settled in his stomach to multiply by a hundred.
"Uuuh... Because I know how to use a coffee machine without breaking it?" the Cuban winced to his own tone, realizing that his answer had sounded more like a question. But let's be real, what could anyone answer to that? They were looking for staff for a coffee shop, all you had to know was the different and varied types of coffee that existed in the vast universe, as well as how to use a coffee machine. And if there were more things to know, well, he'd learn them along the way. Not that being a barista seemed so difficult...
The man raised an eyebrow as he received such an answer, and noted any nonsense in his blue notebook. Lance scolded himself internally. He had blown it, he was sure of it, and now there was no way he could get a job for the summer, unless he went to all the coffee shops he knew, which, believe me, wasn't on his to-do list.
"We'll be in touch" were the last words Lance heard from the man, before he smiled formally at him, indicating that the interview was over and that he had to leave his office before he called security to drag his sorry ass out.
We'll be in touch, a polite way of saying: I'm sorry, but you screwed up.
Lance groaned, mourning for his bad luck and for the null sense of humor that the man possessed. Seriously, what had he expected his answer to be? 'Oh yes, I think I'm qualified to work here because I have a gift for people, I know how to convince them to buy coffee for a ridiculously high price, leaving out the fact that there are cafés that would make much better coffee for a price that fits all wallets'.
Uh... now that he thought about it, that might have been helpful. Why couldn't he have thought of such an attractive phrase in the moment of truth? Another groaning added by another curse directed at every known God.
Keith was sitting on a bus, in the back where fortunately no one else had decided to settle down, his forehead leaning against the window, his headphones occupying an important place in his ears. He wasn't sure where he was going, where he wanted to go... but at least he had completed the first and most important phase of his plan: leaving the house.
Allura had arrived only a few minutes before the Korean had left, so they had met, briefly. Smiles had been exchanged, plus greetings, and she had entered and he had left. Then he had marched to the nearest bus station, and here he was now, sitting on the first bus that had come by to pick up potential passers-by...
Keith barely noticed that the bus had stopped, letting more people in, and he probably wouldn't have noticed it at all, if it hadn't been for someone else's brilliant idea of sitting next to him. From the corner of his eye, he could more or less see his unwanted companion. A lump of brown hair and tanned skin, which was delicately covered by a blue suit, but not the blue you see when you look at the sky, the blue color that dyes the sea at sunset.
Keith looked around, realizing that the whole bus was full of people. Some of them were busy on the phone, others sending angry looks to those who didn't seem able to stop talking. Ah, so that's why the stranger had decided to sit next to him, mystery resolved.
The black-haired man turned his gaze away from the rest of the bus and landed it on his companion, so that he could look at him fully. Browned hair, smoothened complexion... he did not concentrate too much on those two features, as he had already confirmed them before. Instead, he decided to focus on what his vision had not allowed him to see minutes earlier.
Cerulean eyes, eyes that have the sweetness of a sigh, the sublime voice of the sun, powerful and soft at the same time, shaped jaw, pointed nose... lips drawn in a confused frown - Wait, what? Keith blinked repeatedly, thus returning to reality, to realize that the mysterious boy he had apparently been staring at for who knows how long had been talking to him.
"Dude, are you okay? You completely spaced out“ and his voice... - He should not concentrate on his voice, what he should concentrate on were the words that that voice produced.
"Wh-what?" eloquent, he was doing a great job at not looking like an idiot who stares at people he doesn't know on buses for a long, embarrassing amount of time. "Sorry, I-I was distracted" and he wasn't lying, he had been distracted, even when he didn't want to admit the reason for his inattention.
As if reading his mind, a smug smile appeared on the stranger's lips, who had not so subtly been checking Keith out. "Distracted? Well, not that I can blame you, I'm known for being a great source of distraction" and of course the cute guy on the bus had to be a real self-centered guy too. Actually, Keith had a very good taste in men, it was pretty obvious, ask anyone. Then again, his reputation with men was empty, because his introverted nature did not give him much opportunity to make himself known to the world, but... well, he was satisfied with his motorcycle and martial arts. Besides his family, of course.
Keith laughed humourlessly, turning his eyes to the now incredibly interesting window because he was definitely not going to deal with someone who thought he was a true Greek god - and, well, Keith had more or less admitted that it had been his face that had distracted him, but that did not give Lance permission to act so egolately.
"What? Hey, don't turn your back on me" the brunette practically complained as any 3-year-old would, before continuing: "You're the one who's been looking at me without saying a word for a whole minute, so correct me if I'm wrong, but the one who should turn around fearing you're some kind of sexual predator should be me, but here I am, trying to create a nice conversation for both of us, and meanwhile, you turn your back on me coldly!" Keith rolled his eyes at the other man's childish behavior, though it was impossible for him to contain a small, almost inaudible giggle. Almost.
The brunette practically glowed when he heard it, a wide grin drawing on his face. "The name's Lance" and then he offered his hand for Keith to shake. Keith dumbly stared at the other man's outstretched hand for a long time before copying his action. "Keith" he replied, giving him a short, courtly nod.
That fleeting action seemed to be pleasing to Lance, whose smile, though seemingly impossible, only grew. "Keith" he repeated, closing his eyes for a brief moment, as if tasting the flavor that pronouncing his name left on the tip of his tongue. "So, Keith, do you come here often?"
The black-haired man rolled his eyes once again, an action he suspected would be recurrent as long as he talked to Lance. "When I don't feel like driving," he replied, shrugging. Normally he'd rather drive Red than get on a bus that was loaded with a strong smell of humanity, but... I don't know, call it instinct. He just thought it would be okay to take the bus, at least for once.
They continued talking for a few minutes, a matter of time that Keith had firmly believed would last forever, but... it hurt him to admit that talking to the Cuban was surprisingly pleasant. He didn't know exactly what made it so easy for him to talk to the other male, considering that most of the time his non-existent social skills were needed, his mind blocked and he couldn't formulate coherent phrases, but... with Lance talking felt natural, like a second instinct.
Without knowing exactly how, he ended up admitting the problem he had been having with Allura, to which Lance wisely responded with a story of his own: "A similar situation could apply to me and my older brother Leo. We used to always go out together, do things that bro's do. But we had one special hobby that was ours alone, and none of our other siblings were allowed to participate. Every week we would climb to the roof of our house - before you ask, no, I never fell, for your information I have a perfect balance, worthy of a... tightrope walker - and we would look at the stars. He showed me all the constellations I know now. I used to get so excited about every night we spent looking at the sky, because it felt special, you know? It was something that only the two of us shared, or at least it was until Lorena, his now-fiancée, arrived. Leo cancelled many of our nights because he had plans with her, and the only time he was able to meet me, she was there too! The whole thing no longer felt so special, now that his girlfriend had also taken part in the experience. But... after a while, I didn't care, because I knew that he and I would always have the constellations, you know? We still do, even though I feared that after meeting Lorena he would forget about his family, the one that was there before her, mind you. Just-just give it time, I doubt your brother's gonna forget about you, especially when you have that mullet. That's the kind of stuff you don't easily forget".
Needless to say, that was a comment that certainly won him a light punch on the shoulder.
After that, Lance continued to tell him funny and endearing stories and anecdotes about his family. Like the time Lorena and Leo proposed at the same time, or the time that Juan, one of his younger brothers, managed to get his head stuck in the stairwell after he had been putting it between the bars, hoping he could get it out if he believed he could.
Hearing about his life, for some reason, felt good.
They also talked about Keith, even when he refused outright at first, something stupid because after all he had already admitted to a complete stranger that he wasn't comfortable with the company of his brother's girlfriend at home, but unimportant details.
They talked mostly about his motorbike, which Lance seemed to be in love with. He even ended up promising him a ride if they miraculously crossed paths again. The conversation involving his motorcycle progressed just like this:
"Ooh, do you have a bright and fast car waiting for you at home, waiting for you to turn its engine on fire?" The question was... moderately innocent, but the suggestive tone plus the wink at the end made Keith think very different things, and for that very reason, the heat that rose to his cheeks was vaguely expected.
"Uh, a motorcycle, actually" he corrected, playing with the corners of his black gloves. He didn't know why, but the direction the conversation seemed to be taking made him nervous... was it a good thing? something bad? Who could know...
"Oh, that would explain your gloves- No wait, no, no, it wouldn't explain that abomination because you're not riding the bike, please tell me you're not wearing them as a daily accessory" Keith frowned, crossing his arms defensively, as if he could achieve some privacy doing so or... something.
"What's wrong with them?" he questioned, not understanding. They were comfortable, and they felt good against his skin, wasn't that what mattered?
Lance blinked, once, twice, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What's wrong with them? They're the opposite of what gloves should be. They don't protect you from the cold, they're practically useless. It would be like wearing socks, but without fingers, an outrage."
"That's different."
"It's not."
"It is"
"It's not."
"Oh look, here's my stop."
They hadn't... well, they hadn't stopped yet, and the stop Lance was referring to was still a few feet away, but Lance's distraction was effective and silenced him. "Can I borrow your phone?" Before Keith could open his mouth to protest because we're talking about a stranger who has just insulted his fashion sense, Lance continued: "I need to look at the closing hours of a store near here, I need to buy a present for my sister and I want to take advantage of my free time, but I don't remember at what time they closed so I don't wanna go and risk it being closed, which would mean me then going all the way back and- " and it seemed like he would keep talking, so Keith was quick to cut him off.
"Okay, take it, but if when I get it back I find a picture of actual gloves, I'll track you down and kill you, I'm not kidding" he was not serious, but no one could have thought he was joking when he looked so deadly serene. He gave Lance his phone and Lance was quick to write down what Keith assumed were store coordinates, while muttering something along the lines of 'so you admit they're not real gloves'.
After a few seconds, his phone was returned, and before he could say goodbye, Lance had already run down the narrow aisle of the bus, sneaking out through the half-open metal doors.
Keith sighed, feeling... disappointed, even when he had no reason to feel that way. They didn't know each other, and they probably wouldn't see each other again. Of course, it had been nice to meet him, because frankly it had been weeks since anyone had made him smile or laugh, even when the giggles or smiles that had involuntarily come to the surface in his time with Lance had been contained. But... it had felt nice, talking to him.
With another a plaintive groan, he turned his gaze to his phone, surprised to have the notes application open. Well, more specifically, surprised to see a selected note, where there was a little message written:
'so it probably would have been easier to write my number, that's what everybody does, but I wanted to be original so here we are. Of course you can easily delete this message, but you could also have deleted my contact from your phone so we're on the same page. call me back? I want my promised ride, pretty boy: xxx xxx xxx xx'
Keith smiled for the rest of the day, feeling dazed.