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“Keith, my dear old boring friend,” Lance begins one day, intruding Keith’s personal space and flinging himself down on Keith’s bed like he owns the place. “You know what’s been bothering me? There is absolutely no one in this solar system to kiss. How sad is that?”
Keith glances up from his book, frowning. “Leave.”
“Oh, dear. Is someone upset today? Shocker.” Lance stretches his arms up above his head, yawning. “You probably haven’t even kissed someone. How sad.”
It’s obvious bait, but Keith falls for it anyways. “Of course I’ve kissed someone,” he protests automatically.
Lance snorts, rolling over on the bed. He rests his chin on his palm, a perfect picture of laziness, and raises an eyebrow at Keith. “Sure you have.”
Keith rolls his eyes. “As if you have?”
Lance shrugs. “I’ll have you know that at the garrison, I had my fair share of lady friends.”
“Poor girls.”
“Maybe, but that’s their choice.” He angles one finger over at Keith. “You, sir, are missing out.”
“I don’t care about kissing anyone,” grumbles Keith, holding his book higher with the hopes that Lance might just get the message that he’d prefer the conversation to end. But, because his mouth is a traitor, he continues anyways. “It’s not like I didn’t have any chances when I was at the garrison either.”
Lance sits up, mouth agape. “You mean you’d have the opportunity to kiss someone and you wouldn’t kiss them?”
“Sure, yeah. Didn’t really matter to me.”
Lance groans. “Of course you would, you probably had girls throwing themselves at your feet. Typical. God, I hate you sometimes.”
Keith sighs, slamming his book down on the desk. “Do you have a point with this, Lance? Are you just here to bother me?”
Lance pulls a face (Keith wonders sometimes where he comes up with all his expressions), crossing his arms defensively. “I don’t care if it’s bothering you, I needed someone to complain to and Hunk locked his door and Pidge said she’d punch me if I annoyed her any longer.”
“I’m sure Shiro’d lend you an ear.”
“Shiro?” Lance places a hand to his chest, looking offended at the suggestion. “I don’t want to bother him.”
Keith sighs for what must be the millionth time; Lance quirks an eyebrow. “So, what, you don’t mind bothering me?”
“‘Course not.”
“And you’re here to—what, complain about not kissing people? On a spaceship in the middle of—er, space? With seven people on it?”
“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds stupid—“
“It is stupid.”
“—but yeah, exactly. That’s exactly what I’m here to do.” Lance crosses his arms, puffing up his chest just the slightest bit. “And I’m going to make you sit through all of it.”
Keith frowns. “I can just leave.”
“You haven’t.”
He holds Lance’s gaze for a second, in some kind of pathetic stare-off, a battle of wills. Deep down, he knows Lance isn’t as stubborn as he is, but really—is it worth it? He shakes his head eventually, lifting his book back to his face. “Alright, enlighten me, Lance.”
Lance makes an appreciative noise, sitting back against the bed and kicking his shoes up onto the blanket as if Keith doesn’t sleep there. “Oh, please, make yourself at home,” Keith snarks.
“Thank you,” Lance chirps, rolling onto his side to better face Keith. “Now, my kissing expertise may be minimal—Sheila Jones, bless her soul and her brief lapse of sound judgment, I wonder what she’s up to since I’ve been space-ing around—but from what I do know, it happens to be one of my favorite activities, maybe just behind eating and sleeping—you know, the basics.”
There’s a pause, and Keith figures Lance is expecting him to reply, so he manages a dry, “Fascinating.”
“And up here, killing monsters and piloting giant magic lions, life is great and all, but you know what it’s missing?” He pauses, and when Keith doesn’t reply, he sighs and finishes, “Kissing. Life’s missing kissing.”
“Tragic.”
“Okay, you know what, Keith the Chief? I guess you just simply couldn’t understand because you’ve never kissed anyone.”
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter,” Keith protests, swiveling in his chair to face Lance. “What’s the problem?”
“It doesn’t matter because you’ve never tried it! Once you’ve kissed someone, you—you—“ Lance clutches his fist, making a frustrated noise.
Keith raises his eyebrows. “As fascinating as that sounds, Lance, it’d probably be better to talk to someone who cares.”
Lance groans, smacking his face with both hands. “You’re hopeless, Keith. What a sad, sad life you live.”
“Okay?” Keith scowls, putting his book down on the desk and crossing his arms. “Then just—I don’t know, go kiss someone and stop complaining.”
Lance’s voice comes muffled from beneath his hands. “‘Course I’ve considered it, but Princess Allura does not want anything to do with me.”
Keith snorts. “Imagine that.” He shrugs. “Kiss someone else then.”
Lance freezes, and Keith shrinks down a bit in his seat, realizing the implications of what he’d just said. Kiss who exactly? Like he’d said earlier, there are only seven of them on the entire ship—Allura’s a no, Hunk’s a no, Pidge’s a definite no, poor Shiro wouldn’t know what to say, Coran would probably humor him, and that would be a disaster alright—
“Kiss who?”
Keith looks up to see Lance staring right back at him, face a strange mixture of confusion and something else. It’s pretty apparent that he’s already followed Keith’s train of thought as well.
Keith balks. “I’m sure Coran’d—“ Lance snorts, but this time, he’s not just laughing at Keith in general. Keith bites his lip, swallows, and tries again, feigning confidence. “I mean, it’s really not a big deal—“ He shrugs. “I’ll kiss you if it’ll shut you up.”
Lance’s reaction is instantaneous. “As if I would ever kiss you—“
“Then go find Coran.” Keith turns back to his desk, pulling his book up to his face, hoping it covers the red in his cheeks.
It’s quiet for a long moment, and Keith could swear he hears the gears in Lance’s head turning, underneath the heavy thud of each of his own heartbeats. Is this what hell feels like? he wonders absently.
“Well,” Lance starts slowly. Keith keeps his head buried behind his book. “I mean—if there’s no other option, I suppose—I mean, it can’t be that bad, if I just close my eyes and pretend you’re not, y’know, you—it’d almost be like kissing anyone, like Allura, in that case—“
Keith pinches his eyes shut, slamming the book down again and swiveling to face Lance. “Oh my god,” he groans, standing up and crossing the two feet between them before Lance can get out a word. He grabs Lance’s face between his hands (perhaps a bit rougher than needed, but hey, he’s always wanted to slap Lance’s stupid face) and the last thing he sees is an expression of pure surprise before he leans down and presses his lips against Lance.
It’s a peck, and it lasts a second, and then it’s over. Keith leans back, releasing Lance’s face, and hisses, “There.”
He counts his blessings at the fact that his voice doesn’t stutter or waver as he plops back down in his desk chair and turns pointedly away from Lance. Swallowing, he bites his lower lip between his teeth, hoping that the tingling feeling is just a kissing-people-thing and not a Lance-thing.
Lance breaks the silence a moment later, and Keith doesn’t know whether to be grateful or vengeful for it.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait one second.” Keith turns to look at Lance, and sees him sitting up on the edge of the bed, eyes wide and one hand running through his hair. “What the hell was that?”
Keith opens and closes his mouth. “A—a kiss, what the hell did you think it was?”
Lance raises his brows. “That—that doesn’t even count, that was barely a peck!”
“But it was a kiss.” Keith scowls, crossing his arms.
“Are you twelve?” Lance holds Keith’s gaze, and then rolls his eyes at the lack of response. “That barely qualifies as a kiss.”
“So? You just wanted a kiss—“
“Yeah, a real one, but glad to know you’re a middle schooler deep down, thanks so much for that, Keith.”
Keith throws his hands up, exasperated. “Well you should have told me, and I wouldn’t have kissed you!”
“I’m just saying you should do it again!”
Wide eyes meet wide eyes. Keith can practically feel the dust settle in the room through the quiet, and swallows. He glances to his left, chewing his lip, and then takes a breath. Lance is the first one to break the silence.
“Ah, forget it, it’s not supposed to be in that way—“
“Okay, sure.”
Lance blinks. “What?”
Keith crosses his arms, already feeling the regret seep into his bones. “Well, I offered, didn’t I? I’m not exactly gonna go back on it. If it’ll shut you up, then whatever. Like I said, it’s not a big deal. It’s just—you know, just a kiss.”
Lance nods, furrowing his brows as if trying to convince himself just as much as Keith is currently trying to convince himself. “Okay, then—“ He flails a hand weakly. “Let’s do this.”
Keith raises an eyebrow.
“What?” Lance frowns. “Are you gonna—er, come here?”
With a slight sigh, Keith pulls himself up from his desk chair and sets himself down on the bed beside Lance, fidgeting with his fingers. He glances away from Lance, and then back, and then decides that he really has no idea what he’s doing.
“I don’t—“ He chews his lip, throwing his hands up. “I don’t really know how to—y’know.”
Lance inflates, jabbing a thumb at his chest. “Then I’ll lead!”
Keith wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want your tongue in my mouth.”
“That’s—er. Okay, I guess.”
“Don’t make this any more gross than it has to be.”
“I’m not the gross one here, thank you very much. Besides, it’s your own fault for not kissing anyone before, so you don’t even know how to— Hey, wait a second, was that your first kiss earlier? Because if so, I’m totally holding that above your head for ages, you know—“
“Lance, just—seriously. Stop talking.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
Keith debates saying something else, but isn’t sure what. (Some disclaimer? Some warning that he’ll kill Lance if Lance tells anyone? Some order for Lance to hurry up already? He doesn’t even know anymore.)
Lance bites his lip, and then leans, nose scrunching and lips puckering comically.
“Whoa, wait,” Keith breathes, putting his hand on Lance’s chest to bring him to a halt.
Lance peeks open one eye. “What’re you doing?” he whispers.
“You can not make that face.”
“Then what face am I supposed to make?”
“Not that one!”
“Oh my god, stop complaining!” Lance hisses, hands fisting in Keith’s t-shirt. Keith feels a sharp tug, and lets himself be pulled forward. Whatever complaint was next on his tongue is forgotten when Lance closes the distance between them and kisses him. Keith swallows back his surprise and lets his eyes flutter shut, because it only seems natural.
It’s not bad. In fact, if he’s being completely honest with himself, it’s—well, good.
Even when Lance starts moving his mouth (which, although Keith wasn’t expecting it, seems pretty natural too), he has to admit that the feeling is good, and better, even, than what he had expected.
He lets Lance lead, despite every tiny fiber of pride telling him not to, because Lance (and god, he’ll never live this down) might seem to know what he’s doing. Lance swipes his tongue against Keith’s lower lip, making Keith suck in a hasty breath. Okay, scratch that. Lance actually does know what he’s doing.
The thought makes him scrunch up his nose in discomfort, but any semblance of that disappears when Lance somehow captures his lower lip between his teeth, and then bites—
Keith yanks back, hand covering his mouth. “What was that?”
Lance blinks back with wide eyes. “S-sorry, I just thought—uh, you might—I don’t know,” he finishes lamely.
“That—er, biting is a normal thing? Not just you being weird?”
Lance shrugs. “Depends on the person. I guess you don’t—“
“No.” Keith slowly drops his hand; it lands on Lance’s shoulder. “Uh, I mean, it’s fine.” He sees the realization dawn on Lance’s face and scowls. “Shut up.”
Lance snickers, an action that is so inherently infuriating to Keith that Keith does the only thing he can think to do: kisses him again, because that seems to work wonders when it comes to shutting Lance up.
Lance kisses him back, slowly picking up speed, and Keith is suddenly struck by the fact that he has no idea where to put his hands. The one on Lance’s shoulder seems awkward, lame; he moves it and finds himself cradling the back of Lance’s head, fingers tangling in hair and—yes, okay, that seems much better.
The other one heads towards Lance’s hip, because that seems safe. But lounging around on the bed has caused Lance’s shirt to hike up, so when his fingers brush against Lance’s bare skin, Lance sucks in his breath and shifts subtly closer, his arms wrapping around Keith’s back.
Lance’s fingers splay wide against the fabric of Keith’s shirt; Keith leans forward from the pressure, using the hand in Lance’s hair to better angle his kisses. He mimics the motions, trying his best to do what Lance had done earlier, and earns himself and appreciative hum from Lance.
The sound breaks up the quiet, making heat rise to his cheeks, his chest—some other places he’d rather not mention.
Lance pulls back after a moment, and Keith’s only consolation is in the fact that Lance’s cheeks are about as red as Keith’s feel.
“See,” Lance starts, more than a little bit breathless. “That’s what I’d been missing.”
Keith swallows. “I think I understand now.”
Lance’s eyes drop lower. He licks his lip absentmindedly, and Keith follows the motion with his eyes, feeling rather hopeless. “Do you want to—?”
The yes is already on Keith’s tongue, regardless of what the question is, when a loud knock cuts through the air. Keith’s on his feet in an instant, hand clapped over his mouth and facing the door. He hears a thud and a yelp from Lance but doesn’t dare look.
“Hey, Keith—“
Shiro blinks, glancing around the room in confusion. “Oh, hey, Lance, I was looking for you earlier. Funny seeing you in here. Anyways, Allura wanted to see all of us. Just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks,” Lance whines; Keith risks a glance and almost groans at the sight of a red-faced Lance lying on the floor by his bed.
“No problem.” Shiro frowns, glancing in between the two of them. Keith squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the humiliation. After a short moment, Shiro brightens again. “Oh, hey, were you guys training?”
“What,” Keith gasps.
Shiro gestures at his face. “You guys look so red. Great to see that you’re training so hard, even on your off hours.”
Lance barks out a pathetic laugh, hoisting a thumbs-up into the air. “Thanks, Shiro, buddy, pal. Anything for the team. Go Voltron.”
Keith groans, covering his face with his hands. “Lance, shut up.”
“Well, I’ll meet you guys in the control room. I’m going to go find Pidge and Hunk.” Shiro waves at the two of them, and then disappears back out of the doorway, footsteps heading down the hallway.
“You are so unbelievably annoying.”
Lance jumps to his feet, mouth wide open. “Oh, come on, what did I do this time?”
“Shiro, buddy, pal?” Keith echoes. “Talk about obvious.”
Lance jabs a finger into Keith’s chest. “Well, at least I’m not as red as your lion, buddy, pal.”
Keith slaps the finger away. “Shut up, you are too.”
“Well, I can’t help it! I told you I liked kissing people! You’re the one who said you were indifferent to it.”
“Because I’d never kissed anyone before!” Keith glances around, lowering his voice. “So yes, maybe I like kissing people too. Don’t let your ego inflate anymore than it already has.”
Lance pulls a face (and this expression Keith knows rather well to mean nothing but trouble). “Well,” he says after a moment, stepping a bit closer. Keith convinces himself it’s just to whisper and that’s all. “If you like kissing and I like kissing and we’re the only willing people in the entire solar system…”
Keith scowls. “Allura’s waiting for us.”
“Oh, come on, don’t pretend you didn’t like that too—“
“Let’s go, Lance—“
Lance grabs his arm and tugs. This time, when he kisses him, it’s a bit more tender an action than Keith could picture coming from Lance. (Maybe, if he lets himself hope, he can convince himself the action means a bit more than just Lance liking kissing. Maybe, it means something along the lines of Lance liking Keith.)
Lance pulls away, leaving Keith just as red as he’d been minutes earlier.
“Some other time?” he tries.
Keith pulls his arm away. He chokes on the no, and balks at the yes, and finally settles on, “Maybe.”
(Maybe is, evidently, good enough for Lance, who sticks by his side and hums a happy tune as they go to meet the others. Maybe means trouble.
Keith doesn’t think he minds.)