Chapter Text
It started innocently enough between them—though that lasted all of about twenty minutes.
Keith wasn’t sure who could rightly take the blame: him for not understanding how to take out his frustrations in a healthier way, or Lance for even suggesting it. Maybe he could blame his team for causing his angst in the first place, a subpar performance earlier that day that could’ve been avoided if the rest of them were as laser-focused on the season as he was. Though perhaps they couldn’t help that their schedules weren’t as free as his. None of them had chosen their school specifically for the rugby program, after all, instead choosing it for academics and then walking onto the team after hearing about it from friends or posters.
He on the other hand had always wanted to play rugby at Garrison University—to win at Garrison University, specifically. He’d worked his ass off all through high school to get the grades just to get accepted, all the while traveling with his club team and further honing his skills. Rugby was more than just a sport to him, it was everything. He fully intended on going professional at some point in his life, would’ve even skipped the whole college thing if he hadn’t been accepted to GU, but much to his parent’s relief, he would at least get a quality education as a bit of a back-up plan. He’d certainly had offers outside of GU, both from other schools and minor league teams, but he turned them down in favor of becoming a Lion.
It was only the first game of the season, but for some of their players, it was their first rugby match ever. Keith was by no means a patient man; he’d already had his fair share of reprimands from their coaches and trainers in the few short weeks since the start of school for chewing out several fellow freshman—and in some cases upperclassmen—for messing up at practice. He’d barely kept his cool through the match, and it was only thanks to his teammate Shiro that he hadn’t lashed out too much.
On top of all that, midterms were upon them, and he was hardly prepared. He went to class, at least, turned in his assignments on time and was responsible in that regard. But he hadn’t spent any of his free time studying the material, instead using it to get in an extra workout or training session. His coaches had allowed him use of the pitch outside of training hours for that exact reason, as he didn’t think their triweekly practice schedule was sufficient.
Despite it being a Saturday, Keith was going to be spending the night cracking open his overpriced textbooks for the first time. Shiro had recommended a tutor to him in order to guide his work, which is how Keith met Lance.
Keith thought it clear from the beginning that they would not get along outside of Lance’s duties as a tutor for his calculus 1 class. Lance was too loud, too friendly, and had a smile that was too trusting. Keith was immediately taken aback when Lance had thrown an arm around his shoulders, welcoming him into his dorm room’s common space with a huge grin, offering him water, snacks, or beer. Keith had raised a brow at the last suggestion, and Lance only laughed.
“Should you be encouraging drinking while studying?” he had asked.
“One or two beers isn’t gonna hurt you any! Where I’m from, it’s completely normal to have as much everyday. I’m not gonna pressure you, but would it be alright if I had some wine during our session, at least?”
Was that allowed? Keith had wondered. He only shrugged, accepting a beer. It’s not as if he wasn’t familiar with drinking, after all, it being a staple in the rugby community.
That was another odd thing about Keith’s whole situation: why exactly rugby? Someone like him, closed off and easily moved to anger at the slightest provocation… sure, sports were a good outlet, but team sports? Especially when it was often expected to socialize with the opposing team just after the match, no matter the outcome?
But there was something about the game itself he’d always admired. The power required, the skill, speed, and grit… and unlike some sports, everyone was expected to be able to perform any job, be it rucking or passing or running. He himself was a back, not quite big enough to compete in the scrums, and he was damn good at it. In high school, he’d been the backs captain, often playing as the scrumhalf. He wasn’t a fan of that position, preferring to stay out on the wing and make the longest, hardest runs, usually forced to outmaneuver the enemy’s biggest, strongest forward instead. The challenge, the rush… At those times, it felt as if it was just him cutting across the field—though of course he could go forward with the confidence that someone would be backing him up should he fail.
Well, he’d had reliable back-up in high school, but apparently not at GU.
Through all his brooding, Lance was working through problem after problem, showing Keith where he’d made some mistakes on the homework that his professor had so generously marked up in red.
“Dude, are you even listening?” Lance asked. Again, apparently.
“Huh?” Keith looked up from his contemplation of his beer can to meet Lance’s exasperated stare.
“You seem a bit distracted… we can reschedule to tomorrow if you want?”
Like that would do any good, Keith thought. They had their second match against the same team the next morning, after all, and he was sure he’d be in a similar state. “No, sorry, I’ll pay attention.”
“Alright. Here, let me give you a problem similar to this big one that you missed, but with different numbers. I’ll watch how you work your way through it and help if you get stuck, okay?” He scribbled a new equation on a sheet before passing it across his small card table to Keith.
“All the parts?” he asked.
“Yup,” Lance smiled before taking a sip of his wine—had he brought wine glasses with him? What a strange freshman.
Keith picked up his nearest pencil, looked at the problem, and had no idea how to proceed. Still, he wrote a few symbols beneath it, things he’d vaguely recalled being written up on the chalkboard. In an attempt to retrieve any memories from that particular class period, he found that he was much better able to picture what had happened at practice that day just after his class, but not the content of the class itself.
“What are you writing?” Lance asked. “You got through the first two parts well enough on the assignment, I know you know it!”
Keith grumbled, reaching for his homework. “Let me see my old work, then,” he said.
Lance swiped the paper and held it behind him. “Nuh-uh, no way, mullet. You won’t be able to ask Professor Smythe to look at your notes and homeworks during the exam!”
He groaned. “I just need, like, a starting point.”
“Try and think back, then. Figure what you’re actually supposed to find, what you’re given, and then,” Lance snapped his fingers. “Math it out.”
Keith huffed. “Ah, yes, ‘math it out’. Thanks so much, tutor,” he rolled his eyes.
Lance glared in response. “Hey man, I’m getting paid for this time. If you wanna waste it daydreaming and not trying, it’s no skin off my nose.”
Turning back to his paper, Keith tried his hand once more. He made his way through the first part, Lance nodding encouragingly at him when he showed him his work. On part b, however, he dropped his pencil, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arm. “Look, I don’t know. Can’t you just tell me what to do?”
“But you did it before!” Lance pouted.
“Yeah, ‘cause I had my notes with all the example problems.”
“Those won’t—“
“Be on the exam, I know! Look, you’re the tutor, so just… teach me!”
Lance inhaled sharply through his nose, looking like he had every intention of tossing Keith out right then and there. Instead, he snatched up Keith’s paper, writing alongside his chicken scratch the correct solution, steps clear and well-marked.
“There,” he said, flicking it back across the table. Keith eyed the numbers over. Well, when it was in front of him, it made a lot of sense. He just had to memorize it, then, and just plug in different numbers on the exam. Easy.
“See, was that hard?” he asked, tucking the paper into his folder.
“Excuse me?” Lance’s mouth fell open. “That’s not learning!”
“Sure it is. Now that I know what to do, I’ll just copy it!”
“Hey, trust me on this, you have to know the reasoning behind everything. Coran’s a little shit on exams and the problems are usually nothing like the homework.”
“How is that fair?”
He shrugged. “Well, it’s doable if you cut through the random details. Easy, even.”
“How would you know, anyway? You tested out of the class, and you’re just a first year, too!”
“He’s a family friend, so I’ve known him and his techniques forever. Plus, in order to get the tutoring job, he made me take all the midterms and the final he gave last year,” he shuddered. “All at once. It was horrible!”
“So you have his old exams?”
“Yup.”
“Can’t I just look at one of those, then?”
Lance looked to the side, pensive. “Well… he’ll write new problems, of course, but I suppose it could be good practice for you. I don’t have any blank ones, though, just the one with my answers.”
“Perfect,” Keith nodded. “Then I’ll just take a few pictures of his first midterm from last year and be on my way!”
“Keith!” he whined. “That’s not learning!” he repeated.
“I mean, I’ll copy them down on my own at some point before the exam.”
“Just rewriting things in your own handwriting won’t teach you how to do them, dummy.”
He threw up his arms. “Look, I don’t even care about all this! I’ll never use it! Once I’m done with calc 1 and 2, I’m done with math for good! I don’t need to know how to do anything more than pass!”
Lance sighed, falling back and drumming his fingers over the table. “What are you studying?”
“Business.” He hadn’t yet decided on his focus in the business school, since he wasn’t quite sure what direction he wanted to go. He was hardly passionate about business, but he’d heard the first year business curriculum would be the least time-consuming, allowing him more time to focus on rugby.
Lance scoffed.
“What?” Keith snapped.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just, you’re aware that business majors have like a shit ton of group projects, right? Presentations and networking are a huge deal. Most of them are usually a bit more… personable?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he almost growled.
Lance gestured toward his whole body, his leaning, his snarl. “You’re hardly a charmer, you know.”
“I can be nice!”
“Then why are you yelling at a total stranger who’s just trying to help you?”
He huffed, leaning back. He took a few, calming breaths. “I’m… look. I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”
Lance, still frowning, nodded. “I mean, we’re all stressed. Midterms and all… do you wanna talk about it?”
“With you? Hardly.”
He hummed. “Yes, so nice, wow.”
“I’m not gonna open up to you!”
“Well, do you have someone to open up to, at least? You can’t just bottle up all your frustrations, you know. I may just be your tutor, but I mean, I’m your classmate, too. We gotta stick together,” he offered a smile.
Keith rolled his eyes. “It’s none of your business.”
Lance sighed loudly. “Mi abuela passed away yesterday.”
Keith balked. “Huh?”
Lance continued. “It was expected, and she passed peacefully, at least. When I left for school, I visited her,” he looked off to the side, eyes growing watery. “No one said it, of course, but it was kind of our goodbye.”
“Uh…” Keith cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Was he? Sure, it was sad, but he didn’t even know Lance, know his relationship with his family, or anything.
“It’d be easier, I think, if I could afford to go home for the funeral. As it is, though, my family just can’t do that.”
“Oh,” Keith said. “Uh… where are you from?”
Lance brightened at that. “Cuba. Havana to be specific. Born and raised.” He frowned. “Even if we had the money, though, the way my visa’s working, I can’t just fly back. So I’ll be stateside till I graduate. I’m hoping at least to take summer classes so I can finish a bit earlier.”
“What brought you to GU?”
“It’s a top academic university, you know. I want to be a doctor, too, and their pre-med students have like a ninety-nine percent acceptance rate to med school.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” Keith nodded.
“What about you?”
“Huh?”
“See, I opened up, now you do.”
“You tricked me! Is your grandma even dead?” he asked, then froze. That was probably insensitive.
“She died a few years ago, actually. It’s okay, though, she was a regular bitch,” he laughed. “But, look, we’re conversing. I’d almost say we’re friends.”
“Hardly.”
“Answer my question, Keith, ol’ buddy ol’ pal.”
He huffed, but didn’t feel the urge to disobey. “Fine. I came here for rugby.”
“That’s cool!” Lance smiled. “I don’t know a lot about rugby, other than that it’s super physically demanding.” He glanced over Keith, then nodded, humming appreciatively. “You sure look like you work out.”
Keith was a bit too distracted to notice the comment. He was brought back to the game, replaying each mistake like they had been captured on tape. “It’s annoying, though. I knew it wouldn’t be the top program in the country, but I wasn’t expecting them to suck so much.”
“Why’d you come here, then?”
“Back when I first started playing, GU was unstoppable. Rugby’s not super big in the states, even less so back then. But, they had a huge following, and they kinda started the trend of rugby stateside. They had a match in my town against a local professional team, and they swept them! It was amazing, how good they were!” he smiled fondly at the memory. “But, after that class graduated, it kinda went downhill. Still, I guess I’ve just… always had this dream to come here, to be a part of another era of… of greatness.”
“That’s amazing,” Lance reached across the table, then seemed to deem the motion inappropriate. He settled with leaning forward on his arms.
“We had our first match today…” Keith began.
“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” Lance probed.
“That’s an understatement. The freshman have no idea what they’re doing! My eighth-grade self could probably give them a run for their money.”
“I’m guessing it’s not like a sport that recruits people to come here? I gotta admit that I didn’t even know GU had a rugby team.”
“Yeah, they don’t. When I applied to GU I reached out to the coach, but he told me the same thing he tells all the rookies, to come out for try-outs. When I told him I actually played before, I was allowed to practice with the upperclassmen a bit earlier. Though, they’re not all that great, either. The only person I can trust to have my back is Shiro.”
“Oh, Takashi Shirogane?” Lance asked.
“How do you know him?”
“Coran’s niece is dating him, I think. I moved out here early in the summer and lived with Coran, so I met them all. Shiro’s hot as hell,” he mused. “So is Allura. Ah, such a beautiful couple!”
“I suppose he’s attractive,” Keith said. He shrugged at Lance’s shocked expression. “He’s my teammate, so… I've never really looked at him like that.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I guess that’s why I’m so… pent up. Just frustrated with the whole thing, the team… myself? Like, should I have even come here? Should I have just played somewhere else, or gone to school somewhere else?” His shoulders tensed, and his face was set in an uncomfortable expression. “Maybe it was just a dumb dream of a little kid. I should’ve grown up, been more realistic. I’m clearly not even smart enough to be here.”
“Don’t say that,” Lance said. “You got in, didn’t you?”
“But I don’t care about any of this school stuff!” he repeated, hand gesturing toward the stack of papers between them. “I’ll literally never use it.”
“Well… maybe not,” he shrugged. “But that’s kinda what first year is, just trudging through all the basic shit. Once you get deeper into your major, it’s a lot easier ‘cause you’re taking classes you’re passionate about.”
“The only thing I’m passionate about is rugby.”
“I see…” he hummed. “Well, still, you have to keep up with your work. Won’t you, like, get cut if your GPA falls too low?”
“Don’t remind me,” he grunted. “See? I just need, like, Cs or better to keep my spot on the team. Learning is hardly a priority for me.”
“I get that, and it’s cool you have something you’re so passionate about. But I feel like you need to, like, separate these parts of your life. Like, school can be a minor thing, but when you’re actually studying or whatever, you need to commit. Right now, you’re too focused on your match to even remember what I’m teaching you.”
He sighed. What was Lance not getting? He couldn’t filter rugby out of his life like that—it was his life. “It’s not as easy as you seem to think,” he said. “How can I focus on this dumb stuff when my whole life plan is at stake?”
“It’s just one game, isn’t it?” he asked. He winced at Keith’s responding glare. “Okay… sorry for stating the truth.”
“Look, you probably just wouldn’t understand. And it’s not just one game, anyway, it’s two, technically, since the team isn’t gonna improve before tomorrow morning when we have to play them again. And then it’s more games because the team isn’t getting better!”
“Despite all your yelling at them?” Lance guessed.
“Precisely!”
He chuckled. “Not much of a captain type, then?”
“That’s not what I'm concerned about,” he said. “I’m not here to make friends.”
“But, team sports are all about trust, aren’t they? You train because you don’t want to let your teammates down during games, even if it hurts sometimes. Because at the end of the day, your team’s like your family, and you’d do anything to help them succeed.”
“That’s a very idealistic way of looking at it. My teammates are just as much my competition as the other team!”
“Yikes,” Lance shook his head. He sighed, shutting his math book. “Seems to me like you need an alternate outlet for your frustrations. I mean, you can’t just go on abusing your teammates. Even if you are some super talented star, eventually they’ll come to resent you if all you do is yell at them. Saw it in an anime once.”
“And what would you suggest?”
“Have you tried, like, jerking off?”
Keith flushed. “Excuse me?”
Lance shrugged. “Could help, you never know.”
“That’s hardly any of your business. And it’s not that kind of frustration!”
“I mean, maybe not, but what would it hurt? If you prefer to not be alone, I’m sure someone like you could easily find a willing partner, too! I know a number of lovely ladies who—“
“I’m gay,” he said flatly. Wait… why was he even humoring Lance? This topic was completely inappropriate. “Again, not that it’s any—“
“—okay, then get on Grindr? It’s pretty hoppin’ at GU, I’ve found.”
“Wait,” Keith eyed Lance. “You’re gay?”
“Bi, actually.”
“Oh.”
Smiling, Lance stood from his seat, plopping down on the bench next to Keith. He threw a lanky arm around Keith’s shoulders, leaning closely.
“In fact,” he murmured near Keith’s ear. “I could think of one particularly willing guy who’d love nothing more than to help you in your time of need.”
Keith swallowed audibly. What the hell was going on? It was like some poorly thought out porn plot, he thought. He’d just come for tutoring, not sex!
And yet, minutes later, the pair were desperately rutting against each other in the comfort of Lance’s bedroom, shirts and pants discarded. Keith’s tongue and lips seemed set on touching every last bit of Lance’s warm skin, while Lance’s hands couldn’t seem to settle on one place, sometimes clenching at his sheets, other times clinging to Keith’s arms or his hair.
“Touch me,” Lance managed through strangled moans. “Please.”
Keith relented, taking Lance’s dick in his hand and pumping. Lance copied the motion, his long fingers wound skillfully around Keith’s own cock, setting a pleasant pace. It was fast and raw, dirty and unrefined. In only a few minutes, they came together, guttural cries of pleasure on both their lips.
Lance came to first, pushing Keith’s body off with a complaint of “Heavy”. He retrieved a towel and wiped his stomach before folding it and tossing it to Keith.
“Alright, Keithy boy. Now let’s see if that head of yours is in a right place to study.”
Apart from his head wanting to pull Lance’s still-naked body back toward him, he was much more in tune with his surroundings. Thoughts of the game were far from his mind; whenever a stray memory flitted across his brain—why didn’t Shiro make that run? Or why did half their forwards get dumb penalties?—instead of wanting to tense up and lash out mentally, he just… let them go.
For the next hour, he actually listened to what Lance had to say about math, only getting distracted by his lips three times, which he thought was quite impressive. He was even able to answer one of Coran’s trickier problems, and Lance had reached out to squeeze his hand with a warm smile on his face.
On his walk home, Keith found himself simply content to be in that moment. He wasn’t dwelling on rugby, on math, not even on Lance, oddly enough. Leaves crunched beneath his feet, cicadas chirped around him, the sun was setting, overlaying the whole scene with a hazy glow. His brain wasn’t annoyed by the rays that managed to cut through the branches and temporarily blind him, or the incessant buzzing of bugs, or the leaves sticking out of his worn soles. They were just inconsequential occurrences, things that didn’t impact him and so didn’t require him to exert any negativity their way.
Even the next day, while his team was slowly being rolled—at least by a smaller margin than the day before—he was more level-headed. He walked up to a teammate after a bumbled pass, and they shirked away, reflexively bracing for his tirade. A few others looked on as well, expecting Keith’s usual loud show of disappointment.
“You keep doing the same thing when you pass,” he said.
“I’m so sorry! I’ll—“
“I know it’s kinda tricky to get the hang of,” Keith continued. “If you want, after the game we can stick around so I can show you the right technique.”
His teammate gaped openly, as did a few others.
As the game continued, Keith spoke more than he had in all their practices. He still barked orders—with notably less malice—but he also doled out compliments when due. Without his berating tone, the team’s overall dynamic improved; people weren’t so afraid of making mistakes, and ended up playing better due to a lack of crushing pressure.
Afterwards, while eating pizza with the other team, he even exchanged numbers with a few of them who he thought were particularly talented. They, too, recognized his skills and were happy to talk about the sport they all loved.
“You did good today,” Shiro said to him as he packed up his bag.
He smiled. “I always do,” he joked. “I didn’t get as many tries as yesterday, though.”
“No, but you really helped your team out. That’s important too. Not just your stats.”
“Yeah, sure,” he replied, glancing at his phone.
“So what got into you?” Shiro asked.
Unfortunately not Lance, he thought, snickering.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, as long as it’s not drugs or anything too risky like that,” Shiro nodded. “Glad you found your chill. Oh yeah, how was tutoring? I hope Lance didn’t rub you the wrong way—he can be a bit lively for some people. He’s a good guy though.”
If that was Lance rubbing him the wrong way, then he didn’t want it to be right. Keith smirked, though hid his look by turning his back. He and Shiro were close, admittedly. Team captain as well as the most competent player, in Keith’s opinion? Of course he respected him, looked up to him. But, were they friends? Bros who talked about hook-ups with one another? Shiro was dating a girl, too, and Keith didn’t even know if he would be comfortable with the whole gay thing.
“He’s pretty cool,” Keith said. He looked at Shiro, shocked to see his shit-eating grin. “What’s with that look?”
“Easy on the eyes, don’t you think?” Shiro asked.
Blushing, Keith averted his gaze. “What’s it to you?” he spat. “Aren’t you dating his friend?”
“Oh, of course,” Shiro continued. “But, I mean, doesn’t mean I can’t look. Legs for days, and his face? Plus I hear he’s into guys and girls, so—“
“Don’t even think about it!” Keith snapped. “He’s mine!”
Shiro paused, then burst into laughter. “I knew it! Oh my gosh you totally banged your tutor! No wonder you’re so mellow today!” He held up his hand.
Keith stared at it, confused.
“Dude, high five?”
“Oh,” he mentally chided himself before completing the ritual.
“I’m not actually interested, by the way,” Shiro said. “Just wanted to get a rise out of ya. So… Lance, huh,” he waggled his eyebrows. “Did you even learn any math?”
“I did, thank you very much,” he sniffed, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “It was… nice. I was a bit upset yesterday.”
“Yeah,” Shiro scoffed. “No shit.” He clapped Keith on the back. “When are you gonna see him again?”
“Uh…” he began. They hadn’t exactly talked about that, had they? He didn’t even have his number, as Shiro had been the one to arrange everything through the tutoring center's online portal.
Shiro sighed loudly. “You’re completely useless, aren’t you?”
“Only a little!” he insisted. “And, I don’t know… I kinda pegged it as a one-time thing? We’re both freshman, you know… And it’s not like I went in there expecting anything at all like that!”
Shiro hummed, nodding. “I’ll text you his number after I shower, how’s that? Your exam is Tuesday morning, isn’t it? Maybe you could use a bit more ‘tutoring’ before then,” he said, bumping his elbow against Keith’s, though given the height difference he hit Keith’s shoulder instead.
True to his word, an hour later Keith had a new contact in his phone. After hyping himself up for a few minutes, pacing his room and debating what to say, he hit send on his first message.
Hey. This is Keith.
3:24pm
He’d already showered, so he slumped on his futon while he waited for a response. He waited. And waited.
Eventually the vibration of his phone on his chest roused him from his light snooze, and he may have accidentally flung the device across the room in his surprise. After collecting it, he smiled at the response.
Hey, Keith! :) How’s it going?
4:18pm
Good. We lost, again, but it was fun. –had it been? Or was he just making conversation? He didn’t usually call his losses “fun”. He’d grown out of the whole, “it doesn’t matter whether you win or lose so long as you have fun!” mentality ages ago, after all. Actually, looking back, he'd always been hypercompetitive and that phase had been very short-lived in his youth. Well, he supposed it had been enjoyable, and there were even a few times where his team had a good rhythm going, too.—Are you busy?
4:20pm
No, not really! Well, technically I guess I’m always busy, like I should always be studying? Which is just ??? so rude??? Like hello profs I’d like time to eat and socialize please? Haha, but I just got back from a long day at the lib. Why?
4:20pm
He took a deep breath. Shoot your shot, Keith, he said to himself.
Well, my test is Tuesday. I was wondering if you could help me out again.
4:21pm
He winced at the wording—hadn’t Lance used that exact terminology before they’d hooked up? While he wasn’t opposed to that kind of thing happening again, he also kind of needed math help, too.
Are you free later? I’m dropping my shit off in my room then my roomie and I are going to the DH. Have you eaten already?
4:22pm
I’m stuffed with pizza, ha. And what time? I’m usually up early so I can get a run in, so I like to be in bed by like 10.
4:23pm
EXERCIIIISSSEEEEE????? And lmao you’re an old man!
4:23pm
How does 6:30 sound? My place again?
4:23pm
Says the guy getting dinner at 4:30
4:24pm
And okay. See you then.
4:24pm
Keith got his math help as well as another enjoyable makeout session followed by a handjob. Lance had ensured him that his roommate, Hunk, knew to keep out of the room for the next few hours, so they were better able to take their time while pleasuring one another.
He felt high as a kite all day Monday and Tuesday, even after his exam. Who knew studying actually helped you learn? he thought. They should really tell all the other students that little tidbit of information.
He didn’t really have an excuse to see Lance for the rest of the week, though they kept up a daily correspondence. On Thursday, after sending Lance a picture of his graded exam—an unexpected 94%—he received more Beyoncé gifs than he’d ever seen, most of them saying things like “SLAYY” and “YASS QUEEN”. It was outlandish, but it was very Lance. After the torrent of congratulatory messages, Lance insisted that he come over so they could “review the problems your dumbass fucked up”.
Instead of reviewing, Keith only managed one step into Lance’s apartment before Lance’s lips were on his. He was uncomfortably pushed against the door, which wouldn’t have been a problem if he wasn’t crushing his backpack with the motion. So, he pushed away from the door, tossed his backpack aside, then backed Lance up till he fell on his couch with a disgruntled “oof”.
Keith hovered over him, eyes raking hungrily over his body. Shiro had been right—Lance had legs for days.
“Wait, wait,” Lance said, moving to sit up while pushing Keith back. “I wanna do something. As a reward for your performance,” he purred. While Keith settled against the cushions, Lance slipped off the couch, falling to his knees and parting Keith’s legs forcefully. The position alone was arousing, and Keith fought the urge to reach for his dick.
Of course, Lance had no such qualms and immediately palmed over Keith’s crotch, smiling while Keith groaned at the too-weak contact. Chuckling, he made for Keith’s zipper, and in no time at all, he had his hand directly on Keith’s dick, working the shaft too slowly for Keith’s taste. His cocky smirk suggested that he knew just how aggravating he was being.
Before Keith could make a comment about the quality of his “reward”, Lance’s tongue met the tip of his dick, and he shuddered. Finally, after minutes of painful teasing, Lance sank his mouth over Keith’s length, boldly swallowing down to the base on his first movement.
Keith couldn’t help thinking that Lance would be the death of him. He set his hand on Lance’s head, breathing growing erratic with each passing minute as Lance slobbered over his lap with a passion Keith had never known one could show during a blowjob. His fingers played idly with the soft strands, too timid to grab with any more force.
Sadly, as with all good things, eventually his bliss had to come to an end, though he was comforted by the fact that his end was the most blissful part of the whole situation; Lance certainly knew what he was doing. Then he had the audacity to, after tucking Keith back into his pants, sit beside him grinning like nothing had happened. “How was I?” he asked.
Keith yanked him close, their teeth clacking in a clumsy kiss, Lance humming in amusement all the while. He wasn’t sure for how long they kissed, but soon Lance was humping Keith’s leg, seeking friction through his jeans. Not one to be ungrateful, Keith figured he’d be smart to return the favor, so he quickly put his hand to work, stroking Lance's cock while his mouth focused on biting and sucking various spots on his neck.
Even after Lance came, Keith lewdly lapping up the cum on his hand, they remained pressed together, lazily slotting lips and tongues, both happy to just remain as they were for as long as they could. Lance placed a particularly nasty bite in an obvious position on Keith’s neck, but he didn’t even mind.
They were broken from their trance-like dance by Keith’s phone, ringing persistently from his bag discarded by the door. He moved to pull away, but Lance surged forward, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth and prompting Keith to push back in retaliation. If his phone hadn’t have rung the second time, they may have been together up until Lance’s roommate returned.
“Sorry,” he murmured against Lance’s reddened lips. Finally free, he took a second to take in Lance’s disheveled appearance, blushing at the numerous reddening patches he’d left—he never was a fan of the marks, either on himself or his partners, as he thought they were a bit juvenile. Still, there was no doubt that they looked good against Lance’s deep tan skin.
Once across the room, he removed his phone from the side pocket of his bag. It was Shiro, and he answered, more than a bit upset.
“What?” he snapped, walking back toward the couch. It felt natural to put his arm around Lance’s shoulders, so he did just that, Lance nuzzling against his neck.
“Keith!” Shiro sounded worried. “Where are you?”
“Uh…” he replied. Lance directed his attention upward, nipping playfully at his earlobe. “What the heck, Lance?” he chuckled.
“Oh,” Shiro said. “You’re late for practice, you know?”
“What?” he stood quickly, pulling his phone away from his ear to check the time. Practice had started ten minutes previous—how long had he been in Lance’s room? “I’ll be there, sorry.”
“It’s not a huge deal, you can miss one practice to spend time with Lance!” Shiro insisted. “I’ll just tell coach you’re not feeling well, he—“ Keith hung up before Shiro could finish his statement.
“I totally lost track of time,” he said. At least he had his gear in his bag, but by the time he got changed and to the field, he’d be half an hour late. “I have to get to practice.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” Lance stood, waving his hand in front of him. “Hey, you have a game this weekend, don’t you?”
They did—and here Keith was being distracted by a hook-up! How amateurish. “Yeah, three of them, actually. Away games.”
Lance looked interested. “Oh, do you play at home soon? I think Allura mentioned it. She was gonna go to cheer on Shiro…” he began, eyeing Keith significantly. “I was thinking of going with her next Sunday, maybe?” he voiced it as a question.
It was hardly Keith’s business what Lance got up into in his free time. He shrugged. “Cool. Hopefully we don’t lose again. Thanks for, uh… all the help. And, you know…”
“The sex?” Lance supplied, laughing. “Sure thing. Sorry I made you late.”
“No, it’s not your fault. That’s my bad. See you around,” he waved, feeling awkward. He didn't think it appropriate to kiss Lance goodbye, that felt too intimate. Lance waved back, and Keith was gone.
It had been a perfectly good day up until he got to practice—ironic as usually the converse was true. It was tradition for the upperclassmen to give the new players nicknames, and while most were based on their names, such as with Shiro, or the three Johns who instead were addressed by their respective last names, sometimes a certain characteristic or quality was the source, such as with their scrumhalf who was called Gimli, due to his resemblance to a certain dwarf created by Tolkien. Keith had yet to earn his nickname, though a few people had suggested Mullet, Billy, or Killer; they kept their identities hidden so as to avoid any wrath he may have felt for the names, though he was actually impartial, knowing it was just part of the team’s tradition.
He earned it his nickname that day, however, when Shiro spotted him running up to the team and elbowed the other captains.
“Nice of you to show up... Hickey,” he snickered. The others too fell into fits of laughter.
Keith glared, hand reaching for his neck in a futile effort to hide his bruise—he’d checked it out briefly in the bathroom when he’d changed. Where he’d left a handful of smaller marks on Lance, Lance had focused on one spot repeatedly, and it was ugly. Grumbling, he fell into the lineup for their drill, and by the end of practice, even his coaches had picked up on the name. He had no choice but to accept his fate, though he supposed there was one positive thing that came out of the horrid nickname. Shiro had accidentally let slip the gender of Keith’s “mystery lover”, and everyone on his team seemed to be accepting about it. Sure, the teasing was annoying, but they were at the very least respectable of Keith’s preferences. Sure, they weren’t the best team—yet—but maybe they would prove to be good friends or even, as Lance had said, his family.
The weekend came too quickly, Keith thought, classes and assignments passing in a blur. They were bussing to a nearby school for three games against three different schools, and he was nervous—not for himself, he rarely was, but for his team. As he’d pointed out to Lance, a week of practices wouldn’t be enough to correct the major problems they had, so they’d be going into the mini-tournament in about the same state as they’d been in during the previous week's games.
He was pleasantly surprised, then, when they came away from their first match with a win. It had been a narrow victory, and they’d allowed more tries than Keith thought justified, but it was still a win. Perhaps the first years were slowly starting to come into their skills, having needed a few games to deal with their entry into the sport. Keith supposed he had been as much of a wreck back during his first game, however many years ago that was. He’d almost convinced his parents that he was too sick to play, but his mother—the strict one—had seen through his bullshit and forced him to play. He was glad she did, as he fell in love with the game in no time at all.
Their second game was still a few hours away, and most of the players were resting in the common room of the house they’d rented for the weekend. They’d stuck around after their match to watch the other two teams play, so they’d had a chance to scout out their future opponents. One team had completely annihilated the other, and they had a handful of talented players on their roster to worry about. Keith doubted they could beat the winners, though he hoped at least that they could make a better showing than the other team. As for the team that had lost, if GU played as well and cohesively as they had that morning, he thought it likely that they could win.
He knew he’d be wise to use his time to work on some homework, as he wasn’t one for working on bus rides—the motion of the vehicle, the noise of the road beneath the bus’s wheels, and his teammates’ incessant chatter didn’t make for an ideal study environment.
Instead, he reclined on a beanbag chair in what appeared to be something of a storage room and pulled out his phone. He had a number of emails from clubs he’d made the mistake of signing up for during the first week of school, professors posting grades for quizzes and homeworks, and an email from the tutoring office. He clicked that message, where a link to a survey was waiting for him. He’d do it later, he told himself; he assumed they monitored the need for their tutors via the surveys, so in order to preserve Lance’s position, he’d take the few minutes to give some generic review.
Scrolling through his messages, he saw that he hadn’t texted Lance back since they’d last hooked up—was he supposed to? What were they, anyway? Friends with benefits? Lance had called them “friends”, but Keith wasn’t quite on board with that name just yet. And still… his hand hovered over the call button—would it be weird? It probably would be, wouldn’t it? Why the hell did he even want to talk to him? He was feeling fine after their victory, and he wasn’t trying to have phone sex or anything. Was he? He shook his head. No, he just wanted to talk to someone. But, weren’t his teammates just downstairs? Hadn’t they bonded enough over the weeks of hard workouts for him to feel comfortable talking to them? Among them, Shiro stood out as the one he was closest to—should he go to him? What did he even want to talk about?
“Helloooo?” Lance’s voice cut through his musings.
“Shit,” he said, drawing the phone close to his ear. When had he hit send? “Uh, hello?”
“Dude, did you butt dial me?” Lance laughed. “A literal booty call, huh?” Keith could easily imagine his signature eyebrow waggle with the remark.
He supposed it had been an accident, and he could easily say as such. “No,” he said. “I meant to call.” Shit. What was he doing?
“Oh? What’s up? I’m in the library with Hunk and Pidge. Working hard, you know.”
“Cool. I’m in Ohio. We had a game this morning.” God, he was awkward enough in person, but phone calls exacerbated his curt speech style.
“Yeah, I saw that! Congrats on the win!”
“How’d you know?”
“Allura sent me a screenshot of Shiro’s Snapchat. You look good in uniform, I must say.”
“Oh thanks.”
Lance coughed. “I also followed GU Rugby on twitter, just out of curiosity. Whoever runs your guys’ twitter is super funny!”
Keith had no idea who that might be, honestly.
“How are you feeling?” Lance asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Uh… like… how are you? Is there a particular reason you called?”
“Uh, not really. I can hang up if you want.”
“No! It’s fine,” Lance replied, voice sounding almost… fond? “How was the rest of your week? You had an essay due Friday didn’t you?”
Had he told Lance that? He supposed he had. Lance had actually been listening? His chest felt funny, a fluttering sensation that he tried to swallow down. “Yeah. It was weird, we had to write a paper to hand in, then write like the same thing in class, but in only the fifty minute period.”
“That’s so dumb!” Lance said. “Which one counts for more points?”
“They’re equal, part of the same assignment. I thought it was stupid, ‘cause like we had weeks to work on one big thing, then only the class period to summarize it? The professor said it was to prove that we could be concise, or whatever.”
Lance chuckled. “’Weeks’ you say? I bet you didn’t start the paper till Thursday night.”
“That’s not the point,” Keith laughed. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
“Of course, always the principle,” he hummed. “Are you busy next week?”
“I think I have an exam for my intro anthro class, but I’m not worried. That class is super easy.”
“Maybe you’re just super smart?”
“Don’t be silly,” he scoffed. “We’re covering basic bio stuff, high school level shit.”
Lance groaned. “Ugh, biology, don’t mention the word to me.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I had a bio exam on Wednesday, and it was so hard! Then I've got a chem exam next Tuesday, and I am struggling over here!”
Those didn’t sound pleasant. Keith had heard one of his teammates complaining about the bio exam, though another had said bio wasn’t till next week. Were there two classes? “Sounds rough. What classes are you taking?”
“Gen chem for chem. majors with the lab, bio 1 for majors with the lab too, a history class on St. Petersburg, a Spanish lit class, and…” he paused. “Wait, I should remember this, shouldn't I? Ha… Oh! Yeah, I’m in this class that only meets on Fridays, so I tend to forget about it. It's an advanced 'Spanish for native speakers' class.”
What the hell was Lance even studying? Keith wondered. “That’s a lot of credits. Uh… What’s your major again?” Should he know that information? Had they discussed it? Looking back, it seemed as if Lance was much more aware of what was going on in Keith’s life than vice versa. Was it common practice to get to know the person you were hooking up with?
“Biochemistry!” Lance replied. “And my mom wants me to try and double major with Spanish, but that may not happen. I’ll be happy to minor in it, though, since all the classes sound super interesting.”
“You want to be a doctor, right?” Keith asked.
“Yeah…” Lance trailed off. “That’s been the dream forever.”
“That’s good,” he said. As often happened, his comment threw off the flow of the conversation.
Thankfully, Lance was up to the challenge. “It’s a lot of work, but my major is actually super cool! I’m going to try and join a lab sometime, that’ll help me with elective credits. And, if I can get grants, I could even travel places to do research during breaks!”
“Wow, sounds fun,” he said. “I’m not super into any of my classes. Well, my anthro class is cool. My professor wants to meet with me next week, though, to talk about a paper I wrote. Hopefully he’s not too harsh.”
“Maybe he just wants to tell you how awesome it was! You like the class? Then I’m sure he could see it in your paper!” Lance insisted, ever cheerful.
Keith found himself smiling. “You think so? I feel like he’s gonna yell at me. I don’t tend to censor myself in my writing.”
Lance laughed. “I’m sure he liked it even more for it. I bet professors are sick of all the boring shit freshmen throw at them. Yours probably stuck out! What was it about?”
“We’re going over like the foundations of anthropology, and we had to give a summary of the history in a chosen country. I chose the US, just cause, and since it was super racist in the beginning, I called that out.”
“Nicely done, Kogane,” Lance said. “Put those dead white guys in their place. Hey, maybe you should be an anthro major!”
“That’s a useless major.”
“Won’t any major be useless to a professional rugger? Is that a word? Do you call each other that? Oh shit, is it like, a thing only you guys can say and non-players can’t? If so, I apologize profusely.”
He chuckled. “It’s a word, and you’re allowed to use it. And, I don’t know. Upper level anthro classes seem like they’d be a lot of work.”
“But maybe it’d be work you enjoy? I don’t know, I’m just babbling here! Don’t dwell on it too much,” he laughed. “Aren’t you in, like, some intro business class?”
“Nah. For the business school you don’t take major classes till you declare, which happens right before sophomore year. So I’m just taking my generals.”
“That’s weird.”
“Is it? I haven’t noticed.”
“Hunk’s an aerospace engineer himself, and Pidge is comp sci. We’re all making our way through intro classes for the time being. They're tedious, but, it’s nice; gives you a chance to see if you actually like what you’re studying before you’re past the point of no return and have no time to change your major, you know?”
He didn’t know. “Sure.”
Another awkward pause. Keith really was terrible at asking questions. Yet as much as he tended to keep to himself, he had no qualms with answering any of Lance’s. “So,” Lance continued. “Tell me about your game. I see you scored two, uh… tries? Is that right?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s right. They’re like touchdowns.”
“Ah, yes, American football terminology. My area of expertise,” he laughed. “Sorry, I’m more of a soccer guy. I guess I'll watch baseball on occasions, too. Was the team any good? They mustn’t have been, ‘cause, no offense, I thought you guys sucked.”
“We don’t suck!” he said, smiling, no bite in his words. “But, yeah, they weren’t very good.” Lance laughed—Keith found himself liking the sound. “I think we’ll win tonight, too. Tomorrow, probably not.”
“Aw… well, two of three is pretty good!”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine. The team we play tomorrow is pretty highly ranked. They got, like, fourth at Nationals last year and have a lot of returning players, so it’s not that big a deal if we lose.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that,” Lance said.
Keith was frankly surprised himself. “Yeah, well, we’re getting better.”
“That’s right! Plus, you have four years here. If your freshman and even sophomore year aren’t winning seasons, who cares? And the fact that you have so many freshmen means you have tons of people to build up the program with, right?”
“I haven’t really thought of it that way,” he nodded. “I guess… you have a point.”
“I bet you’ll be national champs yourselves your senior year! Maybe even your junior year! Then, there’ll be tiny little Keith lookalikes in the outskirts of Texas watching GU rugby, and they’ll be like, wow, I wanna be like that Keith guy, horrible hair and all.”
“My hair is fine, thank you. And how’d you know I was from Texas?”
“Oh, uh… Allura mentioned it!” Lance said hastily. “Plus, your accent is horrendous.”
“I don’t have an accent,” he insisted. He may have grown up in Houston, but his moms were both born and raised in New England. If he’d developed a southern accent, they would’ve appointed a speech coach surely. “My moms hate Texas,” he said simply. “No accents allowed.”
“Two moms?” Lance sighed. “The dream. I wish I could clone my mom. She’s the best. Does that get confusing? Like, you’d be like, oh my mom said I can’t go, but my mom said I can, so I guess I’ll listen to mom.”
Keith chuckled. “Well, the older one, she’s got black hair, she’s stricter, more traditional, more frugal. I usually describe her as Mom 1, simply because of age. Mom 2 is the opposite, kinda the fun mom, I’ll admit. Crazy, blond soccer mom—well, rugby mom.”
“How’d they meet?”
“They actually met at GU. They were both, like, mega legacies here. Really conservative families, sent their girls to GU to find nice husbands. Instead, they found wives. United two pretty wealthy donor families.”
“So you’re like royalty in these parts, huh?” Lance said.
“I mean… I tried to keep that hidden during the application. I didn’t want to get in just because their families have donated money, you know? I wanted to earn it. Of course, after the fact, the truth came out, or whatever.”
“Oh, shit! Any perks?”
“Just random emails from the president inviting me to lunch. Not that I care.”
“Dude, you should go sometime! If anything, just to do something crazy! Like, demand that he put AC in one Lance Sanchez’s shitty dorm room, maybe?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “I’m not one for schmoozing.”
“You know, it makes so much sense now, why you’re so bad at dealing with people! You never had to worry about it all your life!” his tone was teasing. “Why, I’m sure your butler was forced to play with all the little kids growing up while you stayed back and watched.”
“It wouldn’t due for the Kogane heir to be seen on a metal slide, would it?” he replied. “I never liked those rich kids. I wasn’t in the US till I was eight-years-old, anyway, and they always treated me differently for it. I’m adopted.”
He gasped. “What? Two white women didn’t manage to produce an Asian baby? I am truly shocked.”
“Shut up! I’m opening up about my tragic past.”
“Ooh, I feel honored. Should I pop some popcorn for this reveal? Does it involve any murder plots? Or perhaps ancient curses?”
“Nothing too crazy. I grew up in South Korea with my birth mom. I don’t remember her much, though. I guess we weren’t in a good part of the country, we didn’t have a lot of money. Eventually, she couldn’t take care of me anymore, so she had to give me up. I was shipped to Texas, where a nice lesbian couple adopted me despite my age.” Oh god, he was opening up. No one liked a sad, orphan story; he only hoped Lance didn’t think less of him for it, or worse, pity him.
“Wow, uh… thanks for sharing that with me,” he cleared his throat. “You seem like you’re okay with everything, so I won’t say ‘I’m sorry’, or whatever.”
“Yeah, I know she loved me, that she just wanted what was best for me. I always knew that. Still, I kinda wish I could see her again, maybe help her out if she’s still in danger? I mean, I have more than enough money to do so. But I haven’t been able to track her down.”
“The adoption agency doesn’t know where she is?”
“No. I told them that I was interested in reaching out to her, and they tried to contact her. But, she wasn’t at our home anymore. No one has any idea where she might be.”
“Damn. Well, my money’s on her being an alien.”
“What?” he scoffed.
“Hey, it makes sense! See, she came to earth, fell in love with a human, had you, then some crazy intergalactic war called her home. She knew it’d be safer to leave you behind, so she did. I’m sure she’s out there kicking bad guy butt in the stars!”
“Maybe you should switch your major to creative writing,” Keith mused.
“I watch a lot of space movies, I’ll admit it! I have no shame!”
“Why would you? Space is awesome!”
“Right? Can we just mourn the fact that you and I were probably born too early in human history to get to explore the stars? Think of all the alien sex we’re missing out on!”
“Really? All the knowledge of the cosmos and you’d spend your time picking up aliens?”
“Of course! Just imagine all the possibilities! Tentacles and horns and fur and weird appendages!”
“Are you a furry?”
He gasped. “I am not! Just ‘cause I’d fuck a vaguely humanoidish alien that maybe had some animal characteristics does not make me a furry. I prefer the term extraterrsexual, thank you very much.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “You’re ridiculous. And a furry. I hope you know that.”
“I am not!” he whined. “You’re a spoilsport. You’re like the Spock to my Kirk. Nay—the McCoy since you’re a southern belle.”
“Are all trekkies furries, or are you a special case?”
“I am quite special—but not ‘cause of that! Not that I am a furry! Or a trekkie! I’ve just, like, seen every episode and movie. It’s whatever.”
“Who has the time for that?”
“A young Lance who learned how to speak English watching American TV, that’s who. Hey, so you know Korean, right?”
“Yeah.”
“That may be the one language I don’t know how to say penis in, which really makes me upset.” He sniffled. “I thought I was a man of culture. Turns out I’m just a plebe like you.”
“What will we do with someone as unrefined as you?” he smiled.
“I only hope some wealthy gentleman will take mercy on my classless self,” he sighed dramatically. “Educate me on the ways of the world, such things I’ve never had the means to experience.”
“A wretch like you? You’d have to work hard to get noticed by someone so generous,” he said.
“Is that so? What would you have me do, then?”
He swallowed, noting the change in Lance’s tone. Were they… flirting? Like, not just teasing, but like, sexually progressing? On the phone? The same phone he called his moms with? He was going to hell.
“Depends on what you’d be willing to do for me,” he replied.
“Would you like me to describe what I’d do for you?” he asked, voice lower and even more sultry than before. "I could go on and on about all the things I'll do next time I see you..."
“Aren’t you in the library?” Keith felt his voice sounded too weak, and only hoped Lance didn’t notice.
“I found a private spot. We doing this or not, mullet?”
“Uh… I’ve never like, done this kinda thing,” he confessed.
“Have no fear, I’ve read all about it! You just gotta be comfortable and open. Are you alone?”
He glanced to the door. It would probably be wise to lock it, he told himself, crossing the room to do just that. Once he returned to his seat, he spoke. “Yeah.”
“Good." Lance sounded much more confident than Keith felt.
“Okay, uh, phone sex me up, I guess.”
Lance sighed loudly. “Alright, we’re going to ignore that verbage, and start now. Just follow my lead, rugger.”
One orgasm later, Keith said goodbye to Lance, promising that they’d try to meet up the next evening in order to, er, “act out” some of their fantasies. Who knew Lance had such a dirty mouth on him? After cleaning himself up, Keith decided to be social until their game, and he settled on the couch next to Shiro, nodding in greeting as others acknowledged him.
“Where were you?” Shiro nudged his leg.
“Oh, just needed to chill by myself for a bit.”
“I heard you talking,” one of the Johns, who they called Priz, noted. “Were you on the phone?”
“Uh, yeah. Had to make a call. Important school stuff.”
“Ooh, was it with the giver of hickeys?” their scrumhalf, Gimli, asked. “The man, the myth, the legend. Bless his soul for taming the tempest that is Keith.”
He blushed. “Of course not!”
“Ew, did you have phone sex? Right in front of all our salads?” Shiro asked.
“I did not!”
“That’s no fun,” Priz frowned. “Your hickeys are fading already, Hickey. Lance can’t give you more via the phone.”
“You’re disgracing your sacred namesake!” another John, known as Shey, added, shaking his head.
“What, I’m supposed to have a hickey 24/7? That’s so trashy,” he crossed his arms, scowling. “What would my professors say?”
“Well, what will our enemies think if we go on calling you Hickey and you’re unhickied?” Shiro asked. “That would be even more embarrassing, if you think about it.”
“What—who—“ he groaned. “That's horrible logic.”
His phone beeped, and he moved to shut off the sound. He may have had to put in on speaker so he could better, uh… focus on the task at hand as it were.
That was fun! ;) can’t wait to see you tomorrow! Good luck in your matches! Score some tries for me :D
5:23pm
He smiled at the message and started typing a response. Before he could react, Shiro swiped his phone from his hands. He quickly leaped at his teammate, but Shiro passed it off to Priz, who took on the task of reading the text with pleasure.
“Oh, Keith!” he batted his eyelashes. “I had so much fun phone-sexing you in front of your teammate’s salads!” Keith reached for his phone, to no avail. Shiro was much stronger than him, and his hold was sure. “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, when we’ll embrace passionately and I’ll give you more hickeys and, if you please, vice versa! Best of luck in your matches, I hope you remember me as you tackle other strange men. Love, your Lance, the giver of Hickeys.” Several teammates clapped politely, and Priz bowed.
“He doesn’t even sound like that!” Keith said. “You guys are the worst.”
“Hey, you’ll have to bring him around to a game sometime. Everyone’s girlfriends come to cheer us on,” Priz suggested.
“Yeah, Allura hasn’t missed a home game in two years! And, when she’s not too busy, she comes to away games too,” Shiro said.
“She’s the best team mom,” Shey nodded. “Always brings the best snacks!”
Hadn’t Lance mentioned coming to a game before? Keith chided himself for being so damn inattentive. “I mean, he’s not even my boyfriend, so that’d be weird.”
“Do you want him to be your boyfriend?” Shiro asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, it’s first semester freshman year. Aren’t freshmen supposed to, like, branch out? Mabye I'll want to go be social, meet other people.”
He was startled by the sheer volume of laughs his comment was met with.
“Keith, buddy, we love you, but no. You’re not going to suddenly become a social butterfly, hate to break it to you,” Shiro patted his back. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Sure…”
“And your sex lives seem to be thriving,” Priz noted.
“Jesus,” Keith rubbed his face. “This is so embarrassing.”
“I’m just saying, you’re attracted to each other! And, you called him after the game, it’s already like instinctual for you to go to him. Would you say you want to spend more time with him?”
“I mean, I plan to keep having sex with him, if that’s what you’re saying.”
The team groaned. “A barbarian.”
“Truly, unrefined.”
“We’ve got our work cut out for us!”
“Someone as charming as Lance? Keith will have to step up his game before Hicker is snatched from under his nose!”
“What the hell are you on about?” Keith asked. “And the fuck is a Hicker?”
“Geez, Keith, use context clues. You’re Hickey, the receiver of hickeys, and Lance is Hicker, the giver of hickeys,” Shiro rolled his eyes. “And what we’re trying to say is, maybe ask him out sometime. On a real date.”
“This really isn’t any of your business.”
He shrugged. “Lance is a friend of Allura's, alright? And I think you two could be good for each other. I just hope you’re not… using him.”
“What? You think I would do that to him?”
“Well, if you’re only interested in him for sex…”
“No… I mean… I just wanted a tutor, Jesus, I didn’t ask for a whole relationship! Look, we’re fine, okay? And we don’t need all of your meddling to work things out, so don’t even bother.” He stood, snatching his phone from Priz’s hands. “In case you forgot, we have a game in a few hours. Maybe if you spent all the time you use gossiping actually working on rugby, we’d have a better chance!” he snapped. He stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Shit,” Shiro said. “So that didn’t go well.”
“He’s so testy,” Priz noted. “Lance must certainly have his hands full.”
“Doubt he minds it that much,” Shey cackled, nudging Priz in the arm with his elbow.
“Alright guys, Keith has a point. Maybe we should focus a bit on the upcoming game. Of course, it’d be much easier to talk about strategies if our wing hadn’t run out of the room, but, whatever,” Shiro leaned back. He listened intently as Gimli commented on mistakes he'd noted during the morning game, though his mind was drifting. He knew he’d have to talk to Keith eventually, maybe without the whole team behind him, since the boy was clearly confused about what he wanted. He also knew that letting things fester would only spell bad things, both for Keith as well as for Lance, and he truly did want what was best for them; whether or not that was a relationship… well… only time would tell, he supposed.