Work Text:
Keith's anger wasn't directed at him, Lance knew that. He was angry at the war in general, their own current inability to make much progress, hell, he was even pissed at Kolivan for not listening to them during the last video meeting. Lance knew all that, even when it had spilled over during their sparring session, and now Keith was in his face, not fully aware of how aggressive he was being. So, Lance decided to try to break the tension with his usual deflection method - humor.
Not that it was entirely a joke. Well, not to him anyway. Lance hated seeing Keith upset and this was the best way he knew to lighten the mood. Ever since Keith had come back from the Blades, Lance had been (unsuccessfully) trying to deal with how he felt about him, and it was anything but platonic. It hadn't been for a long time, and the bonding moment he was still claiming amnesia with had not helped at all. Neither did being pinned to the training deck floor under that very teammate, black hair disheveled, chest heaving, sweat rolling down his neck and disappearing under the t-shirt that fit just a little tighter than it used to. It definitely wouldn't be a joke on his end, but the art of deflecting was one Lance had mastered.
He tried not to let his eyes linger for more than a split second on Keith's pink, kissable lips (bad Lance! stop that!) before meeting violet eyes darkened with rage and frustration. He failed spectacularly at the attempt and really hoped Keith hadn't noticed. Lance realized that it wasn't the physical exertion from training that was making his mouth dry and flicked his tongue across his lips, something that Keith did notice, his eyes tracking the motion.
Right, comedic deflection. Breaking the tension. Lance felt like it was a bit late for that, but the tension had shifted to something more, something that wasn't related to hand-to-hand sparring, and with it, his brain-to-mouth functionality.
"If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were about to kiss me."
Why? What made him say that? What in heaven, hell, and the void of space caused that to be thing that came out of his mouth? Lance was mentally kicking himself the second he said it. Out of everything he could have said, this was probably one of the only things that could possibly make Keith angrier. …So why wasn't he? Why, when Keith's eyes widened for just a second at those words, did it look more like surprise at having been caught than irritation or annoyance, much less worsening anger? Lance wasn't given the opportunity to think about it before Keith answered him, heavy breath turning his usually dry, smoky voice raspy.
"What if I was?"
Oh. That was not at all what Lance was expecting. He had always expected Keith to flat out reject him, no matter what his 3am REM sleep had to say about it. Lance let himself look at Keith more closely. Saw the tiny crease between heavy brows that only appeared when he said something he truly meant. Caught those violet eyes flicking to Lance's lips and back, maybe a bit slower than he'd intended. Felt it when Keith's weight shifted, strong arms protectively caging him in rather than preventing escape. Only four words, but Keith had absolutely meant them all.
Lance's verbal centers shut down. Him, the loud, extroverted, talkative one, was at a loss for words. So he took a page from Keith's book of actions over words, one hand fisting into black fabric, the other wrapping around the back of a pale neck, pulling himself up and Keith down. Even though their lips fit together perfectly, as far as first kisses went, it was a mess. Teeth, tongues, and lips clashed as they fought for control. Hot and heavy, quick and dirty, and over far too soon as they broke apart. Lance let go of Keith's t-shirt as he let himself fall back to the mat, running his long fingers up defined arm muscles. His grip tightened as he hooked a leg around Keith's knee, flipping their position. Lance leaned in, lips skimming over a sharp, ivory jawline.
"I think I could get used to it."