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Keith leans on his elbows against the counter and only barely resists lowering himself entirely to collapse on it. It's just after ten in the morning, a slow point for the coffee shop, so he doesn't feel too bad about ignoring the girl plugged into her laptop at the corner table, or about letting out a soft noise of annoyance. She doesn't look up, so he indulges himself and sighs again.
It's only his second week here, the second week of summer, and he's already bored. Shiro's been in and out all morning, checking on him, nudging him if he's too short with a customer or doesn't remember to smile, ruffling his hair when he gets an order right the first time. He's in the back of the store right now, checking inventory, humming along to the typical indie music playlist they've got streaming through the speakers in the shop.
It had never been Shiro's plan to own a coffee shop. Since he was little, he'd wanted to go into space, to become an astronaut and discover new worlds, to fly beyond the farthest stars in their system. Keith can remember sneaking into his room at night just to stare at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, trying to pick out constellations that Shiro would whisper to him.
When Shiro was eighteen, months away from heading to college, he lost his right arm in the car accident that killed their parents. There had been nothing anyone could do for anyone, except be grateful that Keith had been with the babysitter at the time. Shiro had taken the loss better than Keith would have, both losing their parents and his dream of flying among the stars -- it was only after he'd grown up that Keith had realized he'd reacted that way in order to keep from losing Keith, who was only ten.
Keith can still remember creeping downstairs just before bed to find him sitting at the table where dad used to sit, kitchen lights dimmed while he read through all of the legal documents that kept springing up as they dealt with their parents' estate, turning pages awkwardly with his left hand. He can still remember Shiro waking him up bright and early the next morning, a smile on his face and his lunch already packed, sending him to school with a wave goodbye. He'd always be there waiting when the bus pulled up again that evening, ready to help Keith unload his backpack, talk about what happened in school. He hadn't mentioned going to college once, and Keith was too young and blinded by his own grief to really question it.
The coffee shop had been almost an accident of sorts, but a happy one. Shiro had taken the job part time that next spring and then full time as Keith finished up middle school, and had grown to love it. He came home smelling of coffee and cream and had a real smile on his face for the first time in months. Over time he'd taken on more and more responsibility, until the owners had passed on the shop to him when they retired, affectionately telling him that it was his in every other way already.
Shiro's only owned the shop outright for the last two years, but he's been basically in charge of it for seven years. Which means Keith's spent a lot of time in here, sitting in the corner doing homework or listening to Shiro chat with regulars over the counter as he made them the same drink over and over. Keith's managed to get out of working here up until now thanks to school taking up the majority of his time, but now, in his summer before college, he doesn't have excuses anymore. And Shiro has been pressing at him to make some money before he does go to school, even if he'll still be living with Shiro.
So here he is, a Tuesday morning in early June, watching people walk around outside on their way to the various stores, walking to and from the government building across the street. They get a steady stream of people from the other business owners in the area, and there are a few government employees who come through regularly, but the presence of a chain coffee shop just down the street means Keith isn't actually too familiar with the people he watches coming and going. There's an abundance of posters on street poles advertising for deals in shops for the princess's upcoming coronation, flapping slightly in a gentle breeze. The sky is sunny and bright, with only a few clouds dotting the canopy of blue to make it as picturesque as possible, the ultimate ideal compared to the air conditioned building he's trapped in for the next six hours. He scowls as Shiro cheerfully taps his pencil along with the drumbeat of the song, audible even through a closed door.
"Your face will get stuck like that, dude," Pidge says. He tilts his head to look at them, leaned up against the far counter, tapping idly at their phone. They have smudges all over their apron, and their hair is disheveled as always, but they look completely at ease, barely sparing him a glance when he sighs exaggeratedly again. "I don't know why you want to be out there anyway," they say, grinning. "The wifi is in here. The air conditioning is in here. The smooth stylings of some guy with a deep voice and an acoustic guitar--"
"This is a good track, Pidge," Shiro calls out, proving he's been listening to Keith's dramatics without saying anything.
"Sure thing, boss," Pidge says, rolling their eyes at Keith.
Pidge is Shiro's best friend's younger sibling, so when they'd started bugging Matt about getting a job, he'd asked Shiro if they could work with him. Pidge is surprisingly good at making drinks, somehow able to avoid burning themselves with steam the way Keith always does, and usually doesn't bother with talking to the customers, which is good for everyone involved. Somehow Keith is better at presenting a friendly front than Pidge, who usually is only saved from getting yelled at by the fact that they're facing away from the customer when they make faces over their intricate or impossible demands.
"It's just -- boring," Keith admits. "Being in here while it's so nice out. Some of us like the outdoors, Pidge."
"Just think of all the sweet, sweet cash," Pidge intones. "That's what gets me through the day."
"Pidge, you're playing a game right now. This is what you'd be doing anyways," Shiro says, walking through the door from the back with a clipboard tucked under his arm. "Okay, Nyma's about to come off her break so I'm gonna go ahead and go to the bank while we're slow, alright? Call me if you need anything. I'm gonna grab lunch from that sandwich shop you like so much, too, Keith."
"Get me--"
"I know," Shiro interrupts. "Italian with wheat bread, got it. Pidge?"
They grin at him. "Surprise me."
"You know he'll get you something gross just to see if you'll eat it, right?" Keith asks.
They shrug, and Shiro removes his apron and hangs it up in the back, smiling innocently. "Sometimes the stuff he brings back is actually really good. Plus, Nyma's face when I ate that corn and spaghetti thing was hilarious."
"Behave, you two," Shiro says, shouldering his messenger bag and waving a hand behind him as he walks towards the door. "Don't get into trouble while I'm gone."
"How in the world are we supposed to do that?" Keith mutters, waving his hand back at Shiro, who flashes a grin before he passes in front of the shop window and is gone. Keith stares out the window a little while longer, tapping his finger along with the drumbeat of the overhead music, then glances sideways at Pidge.
"You'd find a way, I'm sure," Pidge says, returning to their phone. Keith goes back to staring out the window, watching people pass by with lazy eyes. After a minute of that, he looks around the shop again. The girl in the corner keeps her gaze locked onto her computer, ignoring them entirely as she steadily types -- her cup of black coffee is either finished or cold by now, but she shows no signs of moving. She's probably writing a paper, Keith thinks. Or maybe not, since it's summer. Maybe a novel? Or maybe she's just chatting to someone, and Keith should mind his own business.
He goes back to looking out the window. A short woman passes with her phone pressed to her ear, chattering away continuously and gesturing wildly with one hand. A very young boy with what looks to be an older sister walk their huge dog down the other side of the street, passing by a man walking briskly in a business suit towards the government building. A tall boy with a dark blue cap and sunglasses passes in front of the coffee shop, trailed by an even taller boy with shaggy hair and a girl with short hair who are holding hands. The hat boy's eyes are shielded but Keith can see the curve of his mouth from here, pulled down into a frown. It's still a nice mouth, though.
Keith shakes himself a little guiltily and idly scrubs at the counter with a washcloth, waiting a minute before he looks up at the window again. There's no one on the street at first, then the tall boy passes back past the window, glancing across the street fervently. The other boy and girl continue to follow him, seemingly indifferent to how strange they look. The girl, whose dark skin is contrasted by the pale pink sundress she's wearing, showing off fairly intimidating muscles, leans in close to whisper to the other boy. He laughs a little and shrugs, and then says something to the hat boy, who glances back and then into the coffee shop so quickly that Keith can't even pretend he wasn't staring. Keith can't see his eyes through the sunglasses, but he knows that the boy is staring at him, and he drops his gaze to the counter immediately, flushing hot. The bell above the doorway chimes as it opens, and the three of them spill into the shop. Keith forces himself to lift his gaze and smile, the way Shiro has asked him to.
The boy is still in the front of the group, but he doesn't take off his glasses so Keith can't tell what he's really looking at -- either the menu or Keith. Keith feels a flash of annoyance but smothers it and pins his smile in place.
"Can I help you?" he asks. Pidge has slipped their phone into their pocket, standing ready. He can feel the amusement pouring off them in waves -- Pidge can probably tell how uncomfortable he is with the fact that he can't see this guy's eyes, but they mercifully stay quiet.
"Right," the guy says, crossing his arms. "A drink. I want a -- um--"
"This isn't a chain, dude," the other guy says. "Don't say a venti anything, please."
"I wasn't going to, Hunk," Sunglasses retorts. "Uh. Just -- a medium coffee, whatever you have brewed is fine." He glances over his shoulder, like he's distracted or something, and Keith bites down on his tongue. The girl also scans the room, but she seems more purposeful about it, like she's looking for something in particular. The taller guy, Hunk, is examining the menu with interest, eyes bright under his dark hair.
"I'd like the light roast," the girl says, turning back to face him and smiling shyly at Keith. "You do a French press, correct?"
"Yep," Pidge says. "Coming right up. What about you, big guy?" Hunk tilts his head to watch as Pidge starts gathering the ingredients for Shay's drink, looking curious.
"Caramel macchiato," he says, grinning. "Shay, should we grab the window seat and let him pay?"
"Yes," Shay says, flashing a wider smile. "Good idea." She touches Sunglasses' shoulder briefly and then walks with the other guy to their window seat, the one that affords the best view of the street. Shay sits in one neat motion, legs crossed neatly at the ankles, hands folded on the table. Hunk leans forward with his head on his hand, slouched in his seat -- they're opposite angles but they look like a complete picture. She tilts her head towards him as he murmurs something but looks outside where the steady stream of traffic ebbs and flows.
Sunglasses makes a coughing noise and Keith flushes, pulling his gaze back towards him, irrationally annoyed again that he can't see his eyes.
"Sorry," he mutters, and Sunglasses just tilts his head and looks at him. Or maybe he isn't looking at him. Keith hates sunglasses. He tells him his total and accepts his cash without saying anything else, even though Shiro likes him to make small talk when he can. Sunglasses doesn't say anything either, spinning in place to look out towards his friends. Keith takes a moment to look over him, taking in the plain dark blue cap, the contrast of an orange and yellow windbreaker over a plain white shirt, the dark gray cargo shorts showing off brown, toned calves. His shoes are surprisingly neat and clean, black with starbursts and studded faintly, with blindingly white laces. Keith jerks his eyes away from his legs as Sunglasses continues to pivot in place, turning back around to face the counter. He watches a slender eyebrow raise above the sunglasses and forces himself to smile blandly at the register.
Pidge finishes the drinks quickly and pushes the three cups across the counter towards Sunglasses, who murmurs a quiet, "Thank you." Keith watches his fingers curl around the handles of the cups, sure he's going to spill them, but he picks them up and turns in place without pause. He sits next to Shay, pushing their respective drinks around the table, and pulls a small notepad out of one of his pockets, immediately scribbling on it. The sunglasses remain on.
Pidge steps on Keith's foot, not quite gently. He looks at them to find them with pointedly raised eyebrows. They flick their eyes towards the table and back at Keith quickly, a smirk starting to curl their lips. Keith kicks, not quite gently, at their ankle and shakes his head vehemently.
There's a shuffling noise from the back and then Nyma emerges, settling her apron back over her head, pulling the ends of her pale yellow hijab out from under the straps. "Did I miss anything?" she asks, coming to lean up against the counter next to Keith, looking out over the room. Her eyebrow lifts as she takes in the window table, but she doesn't say anything.
"It's been slow," Keith says, ignoring where Pidge is still tapping at his ankle with the toe of their shoe. "Shiro went to the bank and to get food. Did you want me to text him to grab you something?"
"Nah," Nyma says, still unabashedly looking at Sunglasses, who doesn't seem to have noticed her. There's something curious in her gaze, her casual demeanor betrayed by her slightly furrowed brow. "He asked me earlier and I told him I was getting a late lunch with Rolo." Her gaze flicks to the floor and her mouth curves. "Nice shoes."
Keith looks at her, confused, and she looks back at him. Her eyes narrow and then her grin gets wider, more sly. "I guess?" Keith says, tilting the statement into a question. Nyma shakes her head and taps her nails on the counter in a steady rhythm, flashing pale gold.
"Don't worry about it," Nyma says. She pulls her gaze back to Keith and Pidge, still tapping her nails. "So, do you guys have plans for the coronation? Going to try and catch a party?"
"It's not for a few weeks," Pidge says dismissively. "I don't plan that far in advance. Although Matt and Shiro will probably try and make some kind of big event out of watching it on TV."
"Princess Allura is basically already the queen," Keith says, looking back out the window, trying to pretend he's not watching Sunglasses murmur something to Shay and then scratch through something on his notepad roughly. "I thought she was pretty much running the country while her dad was sick anyways. I don't see the point of having a big ceremony."
"It's tradition," Pidge says, at the same time Nyma says, "It's a party." They trade amused expressions.
"A traditional party," Keith says, and Nyma laughs. Her laugh draws the attention of the window table briefly, but they go back to talking to each other soon after.
"Exactly," Nyma says. "It makes things official. A new ruler of our little country. I think Plax is gonna go all out, so I'll be at her place. I'm sure you guys would be invited."
"Maybe," Keith says noncommittally, while Pidge just shrugs. Nyma's friends are all older than Keith, aloof and effortlessly pretty, but they've been mostly welcoming the few times they've come to the shop. Keith doesn't know how to say he'd just prefer to sit at home and absently watch the coronation in his underwear on the couch without sounding weird, so this seems the best option.
They get a few more customers in, then a brief push as people go on lunch and stop by to indulge in a better cup of coffee than the pot at their office; through it all, Sunglasses and crew remain at the window seat, conversing quietly among themselves. Sunglasses himself scratches at his leg, taps his pencil on the table in a bouncing rhythm, sips his coffee in big gulps -- but he never takes off his glasses or his hat.
When they finally leave, Keith feels a bizarre mixture of relief that they're gone and frustration that he still doesn't really know what the guy looks like. Nyma watches them go as well, her eyes thoughtful. Keith stares at her, and when she notices he's looking, she murmurs, "That girl was really beautiful."
"It looked like she was dating the tall one," Pidge says, stretching their hands above their head until something pops.
"I can appreciate a cute girl even if she already has a boyfriend," Nyma says tartly. Shiro chooses this moment to walk through the door, a couple of bags in hand, hair windswept slightly. A few regulars at one of the side tables call out a welcome, and he returns it warmly.
He sets the bags on the counter in front of Keith, smiling at them. "Sorry, the lines were longer than I thought. You guys were okay, right?"
"Sure," Keith shrugs, trying not to remember the way Sunglasses’ mouth had been pursed while he wrote. "Nothing really happened."
The next day, he's busy with another customer when the bell chimes and they walk in again. It's the same formation, Hunk and Shay at the back, Sunglasses in front -- still wearing sunglasses. His hat is white now, and his sunglasses have deep blue frames and reflect Keith's own face back at him. He's wearing a loose white shirt and green pants and the same shoes. They hang back when they see Keith is with another customer, lingering a few feet away.
Nyma's voice is full of laughter when she says, "Welcome to Topped Off." Keith focuses on ringing up the order correctly, handing the woman her change and smiling, passing the ticket on to Pidge. Sunglasses steps up, tilting his head up at the menu, face unreadable, but he seems less distracted today. His mouth is curved gently, arms crossed as he presumably reads over what they're offering. Behind him, Shay and Hunk are already settling at the same table they used the day before. Shay looks with interest at the couple of other regulars sitting scattered around, smiling brightly when they look back at her. Hunk is unloading a backpack, packed with the same notebook from yesterday and a laptop.
He looks back at Sunglasses. "What can I get for you today?"
"Well," Sunglasses says. "Keith," he says after a pause where he presumably checks Keith's nametag, "I would like a hazelnut latte, a caramel macchiato, and -- uh, whatever Shay got yesterday."
"Light roast, French press," Pidge chimes, already working on it while Nyma gathers mugs.
"Yes," Sunglasses says gratefully. "That. Thank you, uh, Pidge."
"Couldn't resist coming back, huh?" Nyma asks, smiling at him. Sunglasses smiles back, and it's almost uncomfortably bright, revealing soft divots in his cheeks. Keith taps irritably at his register, accepting the money he absently passes him.
"It was delicious. Hunk wouldn't stop talking about how good it was. We had to come back." He leans forward towards Nyma on the counter, long fingers tapping against the wood in a playful pattern.
"Are you guys studying?" Nyma asks, setting the latte down in front of Sunglasses, who pulls it towards himself with a pleased grin.
"Yeah, doing a bit of research," Sunglasses says. "We're, uh, writing a book. Together."
"What's it about?" Keith asks, surprising himself and the others, judging by the way they all look at him. He stares back, unflinching; after a moment, he realizes that Sunglasses is slightly red, pink dusting his cheeks -- he looks the way Keith remembers looking as a child when a teacher called on him and he didn't know the answer.
"We're -- we're still deciding," he says, sounding flustered. "We're thinking a mystery."
"Sounds fascinating," Nyma says. "Here you go."
She hands him the other two cups and he grabs them quickly, walking back towards their table. Pidge snorts quietly, wiping their hands off on a towel and tossing it at Keith, who catches it easily and scowls at them. "What?" he asks. "Nyma was asking questions, I can't?"
"Nyma is nosy," Pidge says. "It's in her nature."
"True," Nyma says peaceably.
"You, on the other hand," Pidge says, trailing off meaningfully. Keith can feel his face heat and rolls his eyes.
"I was being friendly," Keith says. "You know, the way Shiro asks us to be."
"Yes, you've always cared about your customer service," Pidge says, faux serious. "I totally forgot it was your number one priority--" They squawk and dodge the washcloth as it goes flying towards their face; normally Keith would be impressed with their reflexes, but unfortunately Shiro chooses that moment to pop through the door, and it smacks him wetly in the chest. Shiro gives Keith an unimpressed look, bending down to pick up the cloth.
"I was gonna ask how it's going but nevermind," Shiro says dryly. "Keith, I have to stop by the store on the way home, do you wanna come with or do you have plans?"
"Plans," Keith says immediately, although he has none, because shopping with Shiro always turns into an event. Shiro makes lists that he ignores, impulse buys and discards snack foods at the drop of a hat, and usually spends about ten minutes per aisle just comparing prices. It's a process that Keith isn't interested in being a part of.
"Okay," Shiro says. "Nyma, you're off at three, right?"
"Yep, leaving early," Nyma says, brushing a hand over her apron. "Big date tonight."
"Okay. I'll be in my office, let me know if you guys need anything, okay?" Shiro says, rubbing a hand affectionately over Keith's head before he heads into the back again. The bell chimes as another person enters the shop, distracting them all briefly, but once the man's cappuccino has been handed over, Keith finds himself looking again at the window table.
He doesn't know what it is about them that makes him want to look. There's something noticeable about each of them; the straight line of Shay's back and her friendly, alert eyes, Hunk's quiet voice and deceptively gentle hands -- and this boy with ridiculous sunglasses, hidden away from view. Keith doesn't even know what color his eyes are. They're all looking out the window now, murmuring to each other. Occasionally, Hunk will type something in the computer and squint at it. Sunglasses continues to write, and whisper, and sip at his latte.
They linger today as well, purchasing new drinks around the time Nyma clocks out, seemingly content to keep writing and gazing out the window and talking among themselves. When Sunglasses pays for the drinks, he tilts his head at Keith but doesn't say anything, mouth pursed consideringly. Keith hands him his change and resists the urge to scowl back at him.
They leave a couple of hours before closing, and very few people come after, which means that Keith and Pidge clean up and lock up with one of Pidge's playlists blasting, an eclectic mix of literally every genre because Pidge hates uniformity. Keith is taking the trash out back when he hears something metallic roll over in the alley where the dumpster is, and he narrows his eyes into the darkness, trying to figure out where it's coming from.
"Keith!" Shiro calls out from inside, "I'm heading out. You have the keys, right?"
"Yeah," Keith replies, still staring into the alley. "Yeah, I've got them."
"Be careful on your way home!" Shiro says, and then there's the sound of the bell as Shiro leaves again. Keith lingers outside for a moment longer, listening to the sound of cars on the street and people chattering as they pass by, but he can't see anything. He heads back inside, locking the door behind him, listening to Pidge jokingly wail along with the country song blasting from the speakers.
"Stop that," he says, watching them twirl the broom around like it's a dance partner. They ignore him and lower the broom tenderly into a dip, and then drop it unceremoniously to the ground. He can feel the edges of his mouth tugging into a smile despite how uneasy he still feels. "Are you ready to leave?"
"Been ready," Pidge says, gathering the broom back up and heading into the back room to shut down the speakers. Keith dims the lights, checks the door to the back is properly closed and locked, and heads towards the alarm while Pidge gathers up their bag and jacket. When they step outside, there's only the barest hint of the sunrise left, peeking over one of the taller buildings in the distance. Pidge shoulders on their jacket, and Keith shivers a little; Altean summers tended to be mild, and grew cooler early in the evenings. He wishes briefly for his own jacket, and then remembers the one Shiro keeps in the back room.
"I'm gonna grab something really quick," Keith says. "Are you headed home?"
"Yeah," Pidge says, peering out into the darkness. "It's mac and cheese night."
"Matt's cooking?" Keith asks, grinning.
"No," Pidge shudders. "Dad is. I honestly don't know how Matt survives living on his own. I'll bring leftovers if we have them though."
"Thanks," Keith says, and watches them leave, waiting until they turn the corner to head back inside. The jacket is hanging on a hook in the back, one of Shiro's old letterman jackets from high school. It slips comfortingly over his hands as he grabs his backpack and heads back out, resetting the alarm and locking the front door behind himself. There's a few people on the sidewalk, heading home themselves, caught up in phone calls or listening to music, paying him little mind. He shoulders his backpack and starts walking himself, thinking briefly about stopping by the bookshop to see if there's anything new.
He's only a few steps down the sidewalk when there's another sound from the alley next to the shop, and he stops.
"Hello?" he calls out, taking a tentative step into the darkness. "Who's there?"
There's a shuffling noise, and then a flash of white -- a white hat. It's Sunglasses, only now he's actually taken them off. His eyes are shadowed by the hat and by the falling night, but Keith can see them flashing in the soft moonlight when he steps forward. He can't tell what color they are, but they're focused on him sheepishly.
"Sorry about that," Sunglasses says, grabbing the back of his neck. His lashes flutter as he looks around the mostly empty street, avoiding Keith's gaze.
"What are you doing?" Keith asks suspiciously. "I thought you left a while ago."
"I was -- waiting to meet someone," Sunglasses said. "Hunk and Shay -- we were gonna use this place as a meet up to hang out tonight, but you guys were closing, and I don't like being on the street."
It doesn't sound believable but Keith can't exactly pinpoint why. It's technically possible, but something about the way Sunglasses is shifting nervously puts Keith on edge too.
"What's your deal?" Keith finds himself saying. Shiro would probably hate him speaking this way to a customer, but Keith isn't on the clock, and Shiro isn't here, and he's been annoyed and intrigued by Sunglasses for two days now.
"What do you mean?" Sunglasses asks, squinting at him.
"With you -- with everything about you," Keith says, folding his arms. "You're hiding something."
"You don't even know me," Sunglasses says, laughing slightly, the sound echoing in the alley.
"Lance," Keith hears, and turns around to see Shay, slightly out of breath, Hunk a few steps behind her. "There you are. You did not tell us that you were -- oh! Keith the barista." She smiles brightly at him, white teeth flashing. "Thank you for standing with him. We should go now, though."
"Sure, Shay," Lance says. His name fills in the gap Keith has been substituting with 'Sunglasses' easily, a common name in the kingdom that fits an uncommon person. Lance, Keith thinks. "See you later, Keith the barista," Lance adds, stepping past him and slipping in between Shay and Hunk, who close ranks around him immediately. They start walking the opposite direction from Keith, and there's little he can do besides watch them leave. Lance glances back over his shoulder at Keith, those eyes glinting in the darkness before he turns around again. They turn the corner and disappear, leaving Keith standing next to the coffee shop, with cold fingertips and churning thoughts and the sound of Lance's laugh still ringing in his ears.
Something in his gut is tugging at him. He wonders if they'll be back the next day.
"Okay," Pidge says grudgingly, "That sounds weird."
"It is weird," Keith says firmly, tucking another receipt into the cash register and absently smiling at a little girl grabbing her hot chocolate. She smiles back, a gap in her teeth from a missing tooth showing clearly, and then follows her mother to a table. "He said something about meeting up with the other two but then they acted surprised to find him there."
"So he was just skulking around in the alleyway?" Pidge asks, topping a cappuccino with foam and spinning the handle around to face the man standing at the counter waiting.
"I don't know about skulking," Keith says, remembering his smile and laughter again; he hadn't seemed like a bad person, just kind of weird. "There's just something strange about him."
"You think he's hot," Pidge says bluntly, "What do you know?"
Keith flushes red and fumbles the change he's grabbing, dropping a quarter on the ground. "I don't--" He ducks to pick up the coin and then raises up again, glaring at them. "I don't think he's hot," he hisses through his teeth.
"Sure you don't," Nyma says, passing by with an armful of dishes. "You think he's pretty."
"Is there a difference?" Pidge asks, wrinkling their nose.
"Can you both stop it," Keith says, and mercifully they do. It's probably only because they're in the middle of a rush, the early morning commute keeping them busy well into midmorning, but Keith takes what he can get. After the rush is finally down to a trickle and then stops, Keith sneaks away to take his break in the back, sprawling on the couch in Shiro's office while Shiro taps away at the computer. Keith has passed hours in this room, most of them when he was too young to stay home by himself while Shiro was working. The old owners had been indulgent about letting Keith spread his homework out on the floor and study, giving him hot chocolates and chai lattes, sneaking him cookies when Shiro wasn't looking. The familiar feel of the couch beneath his shoulders soothes him into a false sense of security.
"Sounds like you guys were slammed this morning," Shiro says with a strange tone in his voice, and Keith looks up from his book, tucking a finger into the page to keep his place. Shiro is peering curiously at him over the top of the monitor, and Keith shrugs.
"Not too bad," Keith says, already opening his book back up again.
"That's good. Hey, did I hear Pidge say something about you thinking someone was hot?" Shiro asks innocently, and Keith drops the book into his lap in shock, scowling when Shiro bursts into laughter.
"Pidge is full of shit," Keith says, looking sideways.
"They do have Matt as an older brother, so that's possible," Shiro says thoughtfully. "But speaking as your older brother, I can tell when you're hiding something. You've got a tell."
"What?" Keith asks petulantly, crossing his arms. Shiro's mouth curls into a smirk.
"You look to the left and down when you're lying, and when someone presses you on it, you cross your arms just like that."
Keith immediately uncrosses his arms and plants his hands in his lap, annoyed at Shiro, at Pidge, at Lance, at himself. He doesn't know what to say -- he knows Lance is pretty, or hot, or whatever. It's not why he's interested in him, though. There's something about him that's pulling at Keith, that makes him want to figure him out. He doesn't know how to articulate that without sounding creepy, so he settles for glaring at his hands.
"Hey," Shiro says, waving his own hands peacefully. "It's fine. You don't gotta talk to me about it. Just don't scare off any of my regulars and I'll be fine."
Keith rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders and settling back onto the couch and flipping through his book to find his page again. "I doubt I'll ever see him again," Keith mutters, rolling his shoulders against the couch. Shiro hums absently, already caught up in his numbers again, and Keith passes the rest of the chapter in peace. When he heads back out, pulling his apron over his head, he can hear Nyma talking to someone. There's suppressed laughter in her voice, which means she's probably making fun of someone without them knowing it.
"Oh, here he is now," she says, looking over her shoulder at Keith as he closes the door behind him.
It's Lance, sans sunglasses but with yet another cap, which is pulled down low. Hunk and Shay are already at their table, and they smile at Keith when he walks out.
"Morning, Keith the barista," Lance says cheerfully. Keith is close enough now to see his eyes, flashing despite the shadows cast by his hat brim -- they're bright blue, the color of the sea on a cloudless day. He's smiling at Keith, and it's curved strangely with a mixture of wryness and humor.
"It's almost noon," Keith says stupidly. Lance's smile widens.
"Observant as usual," Lance says. "Nyma already took our order. I asked if you were working today."
"I work every day," Keith says. "My brother owns this shop."
"I see," Lance says with interest. Pidge places the cups on the counter in front of him, but he doesn't look at them. Nyma has already moved on to grabbing more clean mugs from the back, and Pidge turns their back on the two of them, seemingly disinterested, but Keith can tell they're listening intently. "So," Lance says.
"So," Keith repeats. "How's the book coming?"
"Book? Oh! It's fine," Lance says, waving a hand through the air. A ring on his finger sparks in the light, a bright white gem set in the band. "We're almost done planning it out. Just a few more days maybe. The ambiance here is perfect for putting the plot together."
"What did you decide on?" Keith asks. Lance is leaned onto the counter, tilted towards him, and belatedly he realizes that he's mirrored him, leaned in so that they're only a foot or so apart. "The genre, I mean."
"A mystery," Lance says. "A political drama. With some action thrown in for good measure. Maybe some romance." His smile widens imperceptibly, but Keith is close enough to see a small divot form on his cheek. "Still deciding."
Keith feels himself flush, but before he can reply, Hunk call out, "Lance, our drinks are getting cold. Come on!"
Lance jerks back from Keith, looking over his shoulder at Hunk with a look on his face that Keith can't interpret. "Sorry, buddy," Lance says sheepishly, grabbing the cups. "Thanks, Keith the barista."
"You're welcome," Keith says, feeling off balance. He watches Lance take his usual seat next to Shay, who whispers something to him that makes him laugh at her.
"Gross," Pidge whispers loudly at him. They're looking at him out of the corner of their eye, a mischievous smirk on their face. Nyma is thankfully still out of sight. When Keith dares a quick glance at Lance, he's looking out the window, tapping a pencil on his notebook. The only thing visible are the tips of his ears, which are slightly pink. Keith feels his own flush, which was just starting to subside, return full force.
"Shut up," Keith says, turning his back on the window table and shoving his hands into his pockets. Pidge snickers at him but doesn't say anything, pulling out their phone and opening a game. Keith listens to the sounds of Lance and his friends murmuring to each other, more desperate than ever to know what they're talking about.
When they leave after a couple of hours, Lance catches Keith's eyes, smiling briefly before the door closes behind him. Pidge waits until they're out of sight before they burst into muffled laughter.
"Dude," they say. "You've got it bad."
"I don't have anything," Keith protests, but it sounds weak to his own ears. "I don't even know him," he adds, repeating Lance's words from last night. It's still true. He doesn't know anything about Lance except that he's suspicious, he's not great at lying, he wears a lot of weird clothes, and he has really, really blue eyes. And a nice smile. Keith sulks into a cup of tea until the next rush distracts him from thinking about Lance again until closing.
When Shiro and Keith shut the door behind them as they leave, Keith stops to peer into the alleyway, listening hard, even though Shiro gives him a strange look. There's no movement, no sounds, and Keith tucks his hands into his pockets and follows Shiro, swallowing his disappointment.
"So," Nyma says, interrupting him from watching the next day as Lance makes a face at himself for getting foam on his upper lip. Keith jerks guiltily and then turns to look at her. "Make any decisions on coming to the coronation party?"
"Uh," Keith says, "Not really."
Nyma's smile is wicked at the edges, like she's telling a joke he isn't aware of. "I'm sure a lot of people will be having parties," she says, flicking her eyes to the side pointedly. Keith deliberately doesn't look towards the window. "Perhaps ones of different caliber though."
"Why are you both so obsessed with this," Keith says, rolling his eyes. "There's nothing going on." Which is maybe not entirely accurate, but Keith doesn't know what to say about what is happening.
(Today Lance had handed him exact change for the drinks, winking when Keith raised an eyebrow at him.
"Just trying to make things easier for you," he'd said. "It's the least we can do for such great service."
"Thanks," Keith had replied, flushing at the slow curve of Lance's smile, and then tried not to feel too self-conscious about giving away three cranberry oatmeal cookies. Lance had looked at him questioningly, and Keith had said, unconvincingly, "They were -- we made too many. And you guys have been coming for a few days now, so. It's on the house."
"Like a rewards program?" Lance had asked, biting into one of the cookies and making a soft, pleased sound at the taste. Keith felt his ears heat up and shrugged his shoulders. "Well," Lance had said, taking another bite, grinning, "We'll just have to keep coming back to find out what else we might get.")
"Hmm," Nyma hums, tapping her mouth thoughtfully. "I think there's something going on. But hey, you're a smart kid. I'm sure you'll figure it out."
"Gee, thanks," Keith mutters, sneaking a scone out of the display case and biting into it roughly. "I'm glad you're having a good time."
"I'm having a great time," Nyma corrects. Keith scowls at her and she passes a cup of tea towards him, still smiling.
At the window, Shay stands up suddenly, looking at her phone -- her chair squeals as it slides back and distracts them both. Her face is rigid with some tense emotion. She leans down to whisper to Lance and then hurries out the door, talking on her phone and pacing in front of the shop with short, agitated motions. Lance watches her avidly, half out of his seat himself until Hunk murmurs something to him and he sinks down again. They both watch her wordlessly; the shop is transformed from peaceful to anxious in a moment.
Keith wants to ask what's going on but he can't bring himself to go closer. Through the window he watches with Nyma as Shay ends her phone call and comes back inside with a tense smile on her face. Her flat shoes make no sound as she hurries back towards Hunk and Lance and bends down to whisper to them.
"We should go," Shay says, just loud enough for Keith to hear.
"Is she--" Lance asks, looking stricken, and Shay shakes her head. He slumps in evident relief and then helps Hunk gather their things. This time, when they leave, Lance doesn't look back.
Nyma watches them leave with a furrowed brow, chewing on her lower lip. Keith feels something heavy twist in his stomach, and wonders, yet again, if this will be the last time he sees Lance.
After the midafternoon rush, Shiro comes in to check on them, freshening his own cup of coffee. People always expect for Shiro to be a purist about his coffee, to only drink it black, but for all that Shiro will drink basically any kind of coffee, can appreciate the flavor notes and subtle tones, he usually adds something to his drinks in the afternoon. He pours a generous amount of cream into this cup before he says, "How's your day been going?"
"Fine," Keith says, halfway to crossing his arms before he remembers and hurriedly stuffs them into his pockets. Shiro smirks at him over the rim of his mug but doesn't say anything.
"Hey Shiro," Nyma says, "Are you planning on doing anything special for the coronation? For the shop, I mean."
"I've been thinking about that," Shiro says, adjusting his prosthetic a little absently. "I wanted to make a drink in honor of the princess? And if there's a good reception we could put it on the menu. I'm still figuring out exactly what to do, but I think that would draw some good attention."
"Personalize the princess her own drink?" Nyma says, raising her eyebrows. "Is this really our boss, who took forever to admit we needed an online media presence? Coming up with an idea for a promotion all on his own?”
Shiro's cheeks go red. "This is gonna be the first coronation a lot of the country sees. Maybe the only one a lot of us see. It's a big occasion, of course I'm gonna try and use the shop to celebrate it," he says.
"Sure thing," Nyma says, cutting her eyes towards Keith nonchalantly. "Maybe we could do a whole line of drinks for the entire royal family."
"Allura's the only heir," Keith replies, frowning at her. "Why would we bother with anyone else?"
"It's an idea to honor the princess," Shiro says firmly, "Not a marketing ploy. I'm still working on it." He sighs a little and then takes a sip of his coffee, closing his eyes. He looks a little tired, which might be because of work, or might be because sometimes Shiro can't sleep at night. He has bouts of insomnia that leave him pattering around downstairs, watching television or working on paperwork for the shop -- he probably thinks Keith doesn't know about it. He hasn't heard him lately, but that might mean he's just learned to be quieter. This time of year is always hardest for the two of them -- the car accident so long ago had happened around the start of summer, and sometimes the anniversary goes by without a fuss, and sometimes the two of them struggle to keep everything together. This might be a bad year for Shiro. Keith makes a mental note to check up on him when they get home.
"Go get something to eat," Keith says, pushing gently at Shiro's shoulder. When Shiro opens his mouth to protest, Keith says, "I know you haven't eaten, so go do it. We'll be fine without you for a little while." Shiro's mouth closes, and he quirks his mouth guiltily at Keith. He probably knows what Keith is thinking, but neither of them will say anything in front of Nyma.
"Fine," he says. "I'm heading to Jay's and grabbing some pizza, then. I'll bring home extra for dinner."
"Sweet," Keith says, pushing harder at him. "Go take a break now."
"Okay, okay," Shiro says, laughing as he stumbles along. "Call me if you need anything while I'm out. Nyma, Pidge is on break for another five minutes but so if they don't show up, they're probably caught up on their phone and lost track of time."
"Naturally," Nyma says, smoothing out her apron. "We've got things handled here, Shiro."
When Shiro heads out the door, leaving behind a waft of fresh summer breeze, Keith leans forward with his elbows on the counter, closing his eyes. In his head, the last few days whirl like a kaleidoscope of memories, confusing and messy. It feels like it's been longer than it really has, but that's probably because most of his thoughts these days are centering on the same thing. On the same person. He's never fixated on anyone like this before, but there's something about Lance that keeps dragging at him, like he's missing something right on the tip of his tongue.
There's a shuffling sound behind him, someone hurriedly pushing open the door, and he turns around in time to see Pidge brandishing their phone with a worried look on their face.
"You guys," Pidge says breathlessly, "Some guy tried to break into the palace to get to the princess."
"What?" Keith asks, just as Nyma makes a startled noise and then covers her mouth. "Who was it? She's okay, right?"
"She's fine," Pidge says. "She was in her own office, apparently, and the guy was nowhere near her. They're saying he's Galran, even though no one can confirm that."
"Is this more of that conspiracy that they're trying to start a war with us?" Nyma asks, wrinkling her nose. "Plax buys into that too."
"I don't know what's going on, but there have been all kinds of incidents like this. And the Galra have been acting out. They're not happy that Allura is probably gonna keep her father's sanctions on them." Pidge shoves their phone into their pocket and sighs. "The Secretary of Defense is making noise about formally rebuking them."
"He's not in charge," Nyma says, shrugging. "The princess is."
"There's no way they're gonna do anything to upset people before the coronation," Keith says. "She doesn't have the authority yet."
"After that, though," Pidge says, trailing off meaningfully. "I know the princess doesn't want a war, but--"
"We're not gonna start a war with Galra over borders, Pidge. They know we're bigger and more powerful. There's no need to do anything but give them a slap on the wrist and ignore them." Nyma fusses with a pin in her hijab and then sighs. "I'm gonna take my break. I'll be at the record shop down the street."
"Say hi to Rolo," Pidge says. "And tell him Matt's gonna grab that album tomorrow, probably?"
"Sure," Nyma says, grabbing her purse. "Be right back."
She's already gone from view when Keith realizes that she forgot to clock out. "I'm gonna go swipe her card real quick, okay?" he says to Pidge, and they nod, messing around with the cups and the espresso machine absently. He heads into the back, towards the time card reader, where their individual cards sit waiting to be swiped. They've done this for each other several times, since they're all absentminded, and Shiro isn't worried about them abusing the system, so Keith quickly runs her card through the reader and turns around to head back up front, but he suddenly hears raised voices. It's coming from the alley again, which makes him think of Lance, so he tentatively pushes the door open, peering around the edge as quietly as he can.
It is Lance, with his hat and sunglasses again, although his hat is skewed to the side and his glasses are almost falling off of his nose. He's got a scowl on his face, facing a taller man with dark hair and hooded eyes, wearing a black suit with red trim.
"You should not be here," the man is saying, "Especially after--"
"You can't tell me what to do," Lance snarls. "I'm allowed to go where I want, I'm not even in line so it doesn't matter what I do--"
"You need to return home immediately," the man insists, reaching out to grab Lance's arm, and Keith steps out of the doorway with something hot bubbling in his chest, anger and worry warring with each other at Lance's desperate expression.
"Hey," he snaps. "Leave him alone."
Lance turns in place, his furrowed brow immediately turning into an expression of shock. He recovers quickly, though, wrenching his arm away from the man and moving to step close to Keith. He grabs hold of Keith's shoulder and clings, his nails digging through his shirt. His voice doesn't waver even though his grip is tight enough that Keith will probably have marks.
"I'll be here with my friend, if you're so concerned with my whereabouts. You can tell your boss that she's not the boss of me, and that I'm not going to be caged up."
The man straightens up with a frown, casting a blandly annoyed look at Keith, who edges his way in front of Lance pointedly. "Fine," the man says. "But you should contact Ms. Balmera immediately."
"I'll call Shay when you leave me alone," Lance says acidly.
The man dips his head in acknowledgement and then turns and walks out of the alley, leaving them alone. Keith's heart feels like it's pounding in his chest at twice the normal speed, like he's run a marathon and then jerked to a halt. Lance still hasn't let go of his shoulder.
"What the fuck," he says as soon as the man is gone, looking sideways at Lance, who looks furious and resigned all at once. "And don't give me some bullshit answer, what is going on, Lance?"
Lance loosens his grip on Keith and drops his hand, but before Keith has a chance to wonder what he's doing, Lance is grabbing his wrist and tugging him back towards the shop. His fingertips are warm against Keith's pulse, which trips unevenly still. "Let's go inside," he says, looking over his shoulder. "I'll tell you everything inside. And I probably actually should call Shay."
Once the door has been closed and locked behind them, Keith raises an eyebrow at Lance, who sighs heavily. He takes off the glasses and hat, running his hand through his hair until it's standing on end.
"I don't know how to say this," he admits, his mouth quirked up in a self-deprecating smile.
"Generally you use words in a specific order," Keith prompts, which brings a more genuine smile to Lance's face. "Just tell me, Lance. It looked like you were in trouble, maybe I can help."
"I'm a prince," Lance says quickly.
It's so blunt and unaffected that Keith almost doesn't understand what he's saying, but when his brain catches up to his ears, he can't do anything but stare at Lance, who shrugs his shoulders wryly. The gesture is familiar, as all of Lance has been familiar this whole time, and everything slots into place as he realizes he's seen Lance do that on television, during an interview with a news station. Now that he can see his whole face properly, now that his eyes know what to look for, now that he's not distracted by Lance's pretty mouth or his long legs, Keith recognizes him -- he's Prince Lance of Altea, cousin to Princess Allura.
"Also a duke," Lance adds, when Keith doesn't say anything and just continues to gape at him. "I have a few other titles but those are just honorary, really."
"You're -- you're the -- I can't believe I didn't recognize you," Keith says, clutching his forehead. Lance laughs a little, the same rich laughter he'd heard in the alleyway that night. "Everyone knows who you are, you're -- you actually live at the palace, you're--"
"It's actually not that uncommon for people to not recognize me," Lance says reassuringly. "Well. I mean. It's not common. But I'm not Allura, or anything, I'm like tenth in line, and I'm only living at the palace while I go to school--"
"You're in every magazine," Keith says, barely hearing him, annoyed at himself for how stupid he's been. Every sly comment from Nyma about Lance reverberates through his head, and he realizes she probably recognized him from the start. Pidge probably hasn't recognized him because they rarely look closely at any of the customers, but Keith had -- Keith had spent hours at this point sneaking glances at Lance, and he hadn't realized that this was the same prince who appeared on countless magazine covers, who charmed children at hospitals with jokes, who had an actual fan club at the high school Keith had gone to.
"I'm never going to live this down," he says wearily to himself.
"There, there," Lance says, patting his shoulder. Keith's slight hysterics seem to have had a positive influence on his own nerves. He's smiling genuinely again, which is good to see even if it is a little wicked around the edges. "I was trying to blend in, it's not your fault I was so good at it."
"You wore sunglasses and a cap," Keith says, rolling his eyes. "You didn't even change any parts of your face."
"I've been spending my time in a coffee shop during the slow hours when the only people who might recognize me were the employees," Lance counters, "And none of you ever said anything, so."
"Fine," Keith says, "Whatever. What are you doing? Why are you hiding out in my brother's coffee shop in the first place?"
"You're across from the Hall of Lions," Lance says, referring to the building across the street that holds offices for several branches of the government. "I can see who's coming and going at what times, I can get an idea of who's meeting with who."
"And why is that necessary?" Keith asks, bewildered.
Lance's jaw tightens, and he exhales slowly before he answers. "Someone in there is trying to overthrow Allura."
"What?" Keith asks, stunned.
"You saw what happened earlier today, right? At the palace? That man was supposed to be assassinating her. He's not saying anything but everyone is assuming he did it on behalf of the Galra Empire." Lance crosses his arms, almost hugging himself. Keith feels his fingertips itch with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he's not sure if it would be welcome. "I don't think he was. I think someone is trying to steal Allura's throne, and they're willing to start a war with Galra to do it."
"If she dies, the throne goes to your other uncle though, doesn't it?" Keith asks, frowning.
"He's living in France right now, and if we're in a state of emergency, they'll take control and put off crowning a new king," Lance says. "Once they have power, it would be too easy for them to keep it. I don't know their whole plan. I don't even know who they are, I just know that Allura's life is in danger, that Altea is in danger." His expression is grim, his fists clenched at his side, blue eyes flashing with dark fire, and Keith swallows.
"So why haven't you gone to someone about this? Why are you playing Nancy Drew?" Keith asks.
Lance's serious face does something complicated and then he laughs again. His eyes are bright blue again, flashing the color of the sky in the dim hallway when he says, "Nancy Drew? Of all of the detectives you could have compared me to--"
"She was my favorite," Keith replies defensively. "When I was younger."
Lance's smile goes teasing, and his voice is warm. "Well then, consider me flattered."
"Shut up," Keith says, and then realizes that he probably shouldn't tell royalty to shut up. He grimaces, but Lance is already laughing again. His smile is infectious, unbridled and pleased. He's the Lance that Keith has only seen glimpses of so far, and he's in front of Keith, laughing because of something Keith said. He hopes the poor lighting in the hall hides his flush.
"I liked her too. Well, her and the Hardy Boys. I'm not choosy." He winks a little, his smile widening with Keith sputters a little. It grows smaller as he sobers again, finally saying, "I can't trust anyone who could actually help. Only Shay and Hunk, really. I know Allura suspects something but she doesn't have any more evidence than I do. So I've been trying to figure out the best way to sneak into the Hall and track down something, anything to prove that there's something going on."
"That sounds," Keith says, "Like a really stupid plan. Just -- really stupid."
"I never said it was a good idea," Lance says, scowling. "It's just the only thing I can do right now. Hunk has been trying to get into the security for the building, but he's more of a hardware guy than a software one."
"What makes you think someone in there is behind it?" Keith asks dubiously. This is starting to sound like something out of Pidge's conspiracy theories, or maybe actually the convoluted fake theories Matt and Shiro make up to tease them with. Keith is still trying to catch up to the fact that Lance -- the boy he's been thinking about almost nonstop for days now -- is actually a prince . The rest of this on top of that is too much.
"Coran," Lance says, and then stops at Keith's blank look. "Allura's steward," he explains. "He's been with the family for years, his whole family has been serving ours for decades. He basically runs the entire palace, and some of the staff have heard rumors. No one knows who's involved in what though, and Allura can't openly order an investigation or they'll just go into hiding."
"So she asked you to--" Keith cuts himself off at Lance's immediately change in expression, serious eyes turning sheepish. "Wait. Does she even know you're doing this?"
"No," Lance admits. "She thinks we're just enjoying my last summer before college, so she hasn't really questioned why I'm not hanging around the palace much."
Keith stares at him for a long moment. "You're -- you're--"
"Incredibly selfless? Stunningly clever? Cunning beyond belief?" Lance suggests, smiling cheekily.
"Ridiculous," Keith finishes firmly. "If all of this is true, you're putting yourself in danger, you--"
"Keith?" Pidge calls, and they both freeze. There's a shuffling noise from the front, like Pidge is setting something down, and Keith realizes all of a sudden how close they are in this hallway, Lance's body only a foot or so away from him, their heads angled together from their conversation. Keith's pushing Lance into Shiro's office without really thinking about it, just in time for Pidge to poke their head around the door. "Who are you talking to?" they ask suspiciously.
"Um," Keith says. "Myself." He crosses his arms and leans against Shiro's office door, trying his best to look casual and unassuming, but Pidge just squints at him. Lance, thankfully, stays silent.
"Okay," Pidge says slowly. "Are you coming back up front? Nyma will be back soon."
"Yes," Keith says. "Let me just grab something from Shiro's office really quick, okay?"
"Sure," Pidge says, still peering suspiciously at him. Keith awkwardly waves a hand at them and then ducks into the office, where Lance is hovering close to the wall, looking vaguely amused.
"You pushed me," he whispers. "Just -- shoved me right in here--"
"Focus," Keith says, prodding Lance in the chest. Lance looks down at where Keith is touching him and raises an eyebrow; Keith flushes and jerks his hand away. "Is that guy gonna come back for you?"
"Guy?" Lance asks, brow furrowed. "Oh, him. He's just one of the palace security team guys. They're not technically responsible for me since I have Shay, but their boss is a real pain in the ass about keeping track of us. He won't come back for me."
"Since you have Shay?" Keith echoes.
"She's my bodyguard," Lance explains. "For like two years now. Her whole family kind of has a business, she's meant to be a lowkey undercover sort of bodyguard."
Keith thinks of her strong arms and friendly face, of how attentive her eyes were every time they came in, how she positioned herself between Lance and the window at every given opportunity. "Okay. I'm least surprised by this information out of everything I've heard today," Keith confesses, which makes Lance snicker. "So you're going to call her, right?"
"Yeah," Lance says. "I just -- I needed out of the palace and I've been coming here so often that it just felt natural, I guess. I asked Hunk to distract Shay because I knew she probably wouldn't let me go out, so now I owe both of them." He grimaces and then smiles crookedly at Keith. "I'll be out of your hair soon."
Something about the way he says it makes Keith's stomach clench. He wants to reach out again and grab Lance, but doing that on purpose feels a hundred times scarier than facing that man in the alley had. "You'll be back tomorrow?" he asks, hoping he doesn't sound as desperate as he feels.
Lance blinks at him for a long moment, and then says, mouth quirked, "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, Keith the barista."
"Don't call me that," Keith tells him firmly, and then closes the door behind himself before he can say anything else embarrassing. When he gets to the front of the counter, Pidge is giving him a strange look. He straightens his apron innocently and looks back.
"What were you doing?" Pidge asks, looking him up and down. "What did you get from Shiro's office?"
"It wasn't there," Keith says, waving a hand. "A book. I just got distracted for a minute, sorry for being gone for so long. Anything happen?"
"No," Pidge says, sounding unconvinced at his explanation. "A guy walked in but he was looking for directions to the park. Are you okay?" They tilt their head and look closely at him. "Your face is kinda red."
"I'm fine," Keith says. "It's just warm back there." When they open their mouth, he quickly interrupts with, "Did you hear anything else about the princess? Or that guy?"
Pidge shakes their head, still looking sideways at him. "No, they're keeping a lid on things while it's under investigation. I'm tempted to try and hack into the defense department servers to see what the real story is, but dad would probably flip out if we got another government agent at our house."
Keith nods absently, remembering what Lance had said about Hunk trying to find more information online about the Hall; he wonders if Lance would let Pidge help.
"Are you sure--" Pidge starts to say, but then there's the soft sound of the bell chiming as a customer walks into the shop. They both paste on their customer friendly faces and take the woman's order, and soon after her, another man walks in, and then Nyma comes back, and then they're hitting their steady flow of customers throughout the afternoon until it's almost time to leave.
Pidge, thankfully, seems to have forgotten what they were talking about, slapping his shoulder cheerfully before they head out the door, already looking at their phone again. Keith goes to toss the trash, stopping in at Shiro's office to knock pointedly on the door frame. Shiro looks up at him with startled eyes and then nods his head tiredly, twisting his neck from side to side.
"Okay, okay," he murmurs. "I'll be ready to go in five. Everyone else already leave?"
"Yep," Keith says. "I'm gonna toss the trash and lock up."
He pushes open the door to the alleyway, looking around even though he knows Lance won't be here tonight. When he turns around after putting the trash in the dumpster, he notices something blue stuck to the back of the door -- it's a note, hastily taped to the door, covered in a scrawling cursive. It reads, Keith -- Can't wait to talk more about the book tomorrow. Just in case -- L. Underneath the message is a phone number, and a small x. Keith stares at it, his stomach twisting in giddy knots, his face flushing red, long enough that Shiro calls his name before he finally reaches out and grabs the note, stuffing it into his pocket.
He can feel the note in his pocket the whole way home, through dinner with Shiro and all the way up to his room, where he tentatively pulls it out and reads over the message again, lingering on the Can't wait. He puts the phone number into his phone with slightly shaky fingers staring at the stark numbers on his screen for what feels like hours. He goes back and forth over whether or not it would be a terrible idea to actually text Lance, and falls asleep with the phone still clutched in his hands.
"You look awful," Nyma says, not unkindly. Keith grunts at her, taking advantage of a brief lull in the morning rush to chug some of his tea. He'd woken up late, with his phone dead in his hand from forgetting to plug it in; he'd forgone fixing his hair because he'd only had time to brush his teeth and get dressed before Shiro was calling for him to hurry up; he'd accidentally knocked a customer's cup of coffee all over the counter while handing them back their credit card, right in the middle of their busiest rush; and now he was starving, tired, and looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. He wasn't even sure if his pants were clean or not.
"Here," Nyma says, handing him a hair tie. He takes it from her gratefully, pulling his hair up and out of his face, letting her reach out and smooth his bangs to the side while he wrestled the rest of his hair into submission. "Did you stay up late or something?"
"Something," Keith says, finally feeling a little bit better, especially as he takes another sip of tea and it warms him from the inside out. He thinks of Lance, and the phone number sitting in his phone right now, and then remembers Nyma's pointed questions and amused looks. He glances sideways at her and decides to test the waters. "I got someone's phone number."
Nyma's face does something complicated and then settles on a slightly teasing smile. "Someone?" she repeats. "I thought you were all aflutter over that sunglasses kid."
"It was his number," Keith says, inwardly pleased when her eyes widen and she coughs a little, clinging to the counter.
"You got his -- you got his phone number?" Nyma asks, surprised.
"You're acting like that's hard to believe," Keith says, faking offense. He raises an eyebrow at her and continues, pointedly, "He's just some guy , Nyma."
"He's not--" Nyma stops herself midsentence and then looks closely at him. "Oh my god. You finally figured it out."
"What -- how do you do that?" Keith complains, glaring at her.
"You crossed your arms," Nyma explains. He looks down at himself to see that it's true, and he scowls and hurriedly uncrosses them. "Classic Keith trying to hide something. So how did you find out about him? What finally gave it away?" She leans in closer, even though the people at the tables around them aren't paying them any attention.
Keith sighs at her expectant expression and reluctantly says, "He told me."
"Oh my god," Nyma says, laughing. "He had to -- he told you?" She leans in closer, lowering her voice even further. "How does him being a prince come up in day to day conversation?"
"I just got fed up with the weird behavior and told him to explain himself," Keith admits. "If you've known, why didn't you say something," he adds, somewhat heatedly. "I was -- you could have given me a heads up."
"Where's the fun in that?" Nyma asks. "Besides, you got his phone number. Something clearly worked." Keith flushes and looks sideways as Pidge comes back from the back with an armful of coffee bags; they set their load down and then give the two of them a look.
"What are you two doing?" Pidge asks, pushing their glasses up absently.
"Gossiping," Nyma says blithely. Pidge makes a face and starts sorting the coffee without saying anything else, so Nyma turns back to Keith and raises her eyebrows.
"So you didn't call?" she asks.
"No," Keith says. His stomach is twisting again, less pleasantly than it had last night. Had Lance expected him to? What if he regretted giving Keith his phone number? What if he wasn't ever coming back here again, even if he'd said he would be? Was it too late to text? Too soon? "I don't know if I should."
"If someone gives you their number, it means you probably should use it," Nyma tells him. They both look up as the door chimes and a fresh wave of customers comes pouring in. "Just saying," she adds out of the corner of her mouth. Keith can't respond, already putting his customer face on as he smiles and asks for the man's order, but in the back of his mind he's wondering when or if Lance will be the one walking through the door.
Every time the bell chimes, Keith's head involuntarily jerks up and towards the door, but the morning rush comes and goes, as does noon, and there's still no sign of Lance. Nyma has taken to giving him slightly sympathetic glances from time to time, but Keith ignores her and clutches at his phone in his pocket, wondering if something has happened, if everything had been a joke, if it would be better to just delete the phone number and rid himself of the anxiety.
"You've been weird all morning," Pidge says. "Are you okay?" They push a cup of tea towards him, and he sighs and picks it up almost mechanically.
"Fine," Keith murmurs. "Just tired."
"Been there," Pidge says. "Hey, you wanna watch me practice doing latte art? Or hey, you could give it a try."
"What, like drawing art and stuff?" Keith asks.
"Yeah, I think it's cool. I'm trying to get it down myself so I can figure out how to program a robot to do it for me." Pidge pulls out a mug and starts fiddling with the espresso machine, and Keith follows them just to keep from looking at the door yet again. They steam the milk and tip the cup towards him, holding out the little jug. "You wanna try?"
"You do it," Keith says, spinning his own mug in his hand. Pidge shrugs and takes the steamed milk, gently swirling it throughout the espresso, finally building in the middle of the cup to form a heart. When they pull away the latte is almost entirely to the brim, wafting gentle steam and with an almost perfect heart in the center. "How much have you practiced that?" Keith asks, nudging them. They grin, pleased.
"Not that much," they say vaguely. "I'm really just trying to get a feel for the movements, so I can best replicate them--"
The bell chimes, and Keith looks up, still half-listening to Pidge talking, and locks eyes with Lance. Everything in him tenses and then goes loose with relief, and he thinks he must be smiling, because Lance's own face lights up. Behind him, Shay and Hunk exchange looks and then head to their table without saying anything. Lance walks up to the counter and leans across it, mouth curved warmly. He's wearing the hat and sunglasses again, but he takes the sunglasses off when he reaches the counter, so close that Keith can pick out flecks of gray and green in his blue eyes.
"You didn't text me," Lance says, faintly accusatory. He leans his elbows on the counter, crossing his arms.
"Um," Keith says, groping for a reason other than I was nervous, "My phone died." Technically not a lie. Lance's brow raises in disbelief, but he's still smiling.
"I thought maybe you decided it was too weird," Lance confesses. "The whole -- you know -- thing."
"No," Keith says, shrugging. "I mean, it is weird. But it's not -- not too weird." He looks at Lance from under his lashes. "Are you guys still, uh, working on your book?"
"Yeah," Lance says, sighing. "It would be a lot easier if we could get into the actual server, though. Hunk is trying, but." He shakes his head, his shoulders rising and falling under a dark yellow shirt that clings to his biceps. "So more uh, planning today."
"Actually," Keith says hesitantly, glancing sideways at Pidge, "I might know someone who could help you get in? Maybe?" Pidge is wrapped up typing something on their phone and taking careful pictures of the latte, so Keith leans in. "They're pretty good at it, they do that stuff in their free time."
Lance looks conflicted, eyes darting between the two of them. "I don't want to involve you -- either of you. It's probably not safe, and they could get in trouble."
"If you're right and the princess is in trouble, then shouldn't that be our priority? She's your cousin, and our leader." Keith asks, sneaking a glance at Pidge and Nyma to make sure they're not paying attention. There's a beat of silence, long enough that Keith looks back at Lance, confused. Lance's is staring at him, eyes wide like he's confused about something. He looks deeply at Keith, long enough that the urge to look away almost overtakes him, but Keith stares back unblinkingly.
"Uh, Keith," Pidge says, and he startles and looks at them, pulling back from Lance quickly. "Are they ordering?" they ask.
"Yes," Lance says smoothly, smiling at them. "The usual. But also, Keith was mentioning that you might be able to help us with something we're working on."
"The book?" Pidge asks dubiously. "I'm not sure what help I'd be--"
"I trust Keith's opinion," Lance says swiftly, sending fissures of warmth into Keith's stomach. "Could we talk on your break maybe? Or Keith has my number, we can do it when you're not working."
"We're slow right now," Pidge says. "Shiro won't mind. What's up?"
"So," Lance says, "I'm not sure if Keith told you already--"
"Some of us already knew," Nyma cuts in, waving her hand. Lance flashes a smile at her and takes off his cap, sweeping it beside him as he tips his head in a humorously formal bow.
"What gave me away?" he asks, straightening back up. After a moment of staring, Pidge makes a squawking noise and points at him, clearly having realized for themselves who Lance was.
"The two thousand dollar sneakers you wore here on the first day. I recognize Louboutins when I see them." Nyma tosses the ends of her headscarf over her shoulder and smiles wryly at Lance. "Plus, my girlfriend follows all of the royal family stuff. I literally probably know more about your family than you do."
"That's a distinct possibility," Lance admits. "Anyways," he says, looking at Pidge.
"You're Lance McClain," they say, not even bothering to stay quiet, prompting Shay and Hunk to look over at them sharply -- the shop is empty though, the way it always is around this time. "You're literally a prince and you gave Keith your phone number?"
Keith kicks out at them with his foot automatically, and they dodge just as quickly, hopping out of reach. Lance laughs, leaning on the counter again, looking between Keith and Pidge curiously. "Was I not meant to?" he asks, tilting his head.
"It's Keith," Pidge says bluntly.
"I take it back," Keith says sourly. "Pidge doesn't get to be in on the government conspiracy thing."
Pidge's ears practically perk up, and they immediately lean forward, eyes wide. "What do you mean?" they ask. "Conspiracy? Are the rumors true? It was a Galran guy that tried to break in yesterday?"
"Yes," Lance confirms. "But that's not the issue here."
"It's the government trying to start a war, isn't it?" Pidge asks, and Lance blinks at them in surprise. They smack a hand onto the counter, setting the latte they'd made trembling in its cup. "I knew it! Everything has been way too neat so far."
"Um," Lance says. "I guess. You already know about this?"
"There's lots of forums talking about it," Pidge says. "Of course, they all think that Allura is an alien, too, so I try to take things with a grain of salt."
"They think she's an alien?" Lance says, baffled. He shakes his head and presses his hands to the counter, leaning forward. "Listen, we need some way to access the government server that's hosting blueprints and information about where certain offices are for the building across the street. Can you do that?"
Pidge frowns up at them. "Of course I can do that. Is that all?"
"Well," Lance says carefully, "We may need future assistance in taking down a security system?"
Pidge's expression clears into a wicked smile. "That's more like it. Yeah, I can get you your information."
"Discreetly?" Lance hedges, and Pidge nods their head, angling to look at the laptop that Hunk has already pulled out. Lance's face is tentatively relieved but also wary, which is a good way to feel about Pidge helping you with something technical in Keith's experience. "Do you want to meet up after work?"
"Yes," Pidge says, pulling out their phone. "Bring any info you guys already have, but I'd rather use my own gear, so I'll grab that. We can meet at Keith's house? There's fewer people there, he just has Shiro."
"You want me to bring a prince to my house?" Keith asks incredulously. "Shiro is definitely gonna know who he is, it's just dumb luck they haven't met before now."
"He does tend to keep up with who is in charge of our government, like most other human beings," Nyma says. "He's probably pretty aware of who Lance is. Unlike some people."
"Not everyone can be as observant as you," Lance says, winking at her, "Although I like to think my disguise was just that good." Keith scoffs, and Pidge makes a short, dismissive noise. "Neither of you can say anything."
"Whatever, we can meet at my house," Keith says, waving a hand, grabbing a napkin and scribbling the address onto it. “Are you free at seven?”
Lance looks at him again and his mouth curves slowly, a crooked smile that shows off his dimples again. "That sounds good," he says, tapping his fingers on the counter. With a start, Keith realizes that his own hands have drifted dangerously close to touching Lance's, and he startles and pulls back. Lance doesn't say anything, just keeps tapping his fingers.
"I'll get your drinks," Pidge says, with a heavy tone of judgement in their voice. Keith can't look at them, or at Lance, aware that he's flushed pink, so he focuses on Lance's long fingers, still tapping on the counter. They stop only so Lance can get his money out to pay for the drinks, which he gathers up and carries over to the table where Shay and Hunk have been openly watching him the entire time.
"I can't believe you've been flirting with a prince," Pidge mutters under their breath.
"I haven't been flirting," Keith whispers back heatedly, watching Lance take a sip of his drink out of the corner of his eye. "And he's -- he's still the same person even if he does have a title, so it doesn't matter."
"We're about to break several laws in pursuit of evidence of a governmental conspiracy to commit a coup, so like, I think it matters a little bit," Pidge points out.
"You guys are doing all of that," Nyma says. "I'm hanging back and holding on to my plausible deniability."
"Thanks," Keith says dryly. He chances another look at Lance, who's looking out the window again, tapping his pencil against the table, listening to Hunk speak if the tilt of his head is any indication. He's got his cap back on, hiding his eyes, but Keith can track the line of his jaw, his smooth nails and the shifting of his muscles under the shirt -- he forcibly makes himself look away, but he knows it's going to be a very long wait until the end of his shift.
Keith doesn't think about what to tell Shiro until ten minutes until they're about to leave. Nyma has already clocked out, and Pidge is lingering close by, nearly bouncing on the tip of their toes in excitement. Shiro locks up his office, turning off the lights in the hallway, and Keith blurts out, "I have a few friends coming over later."
Shiro pauses and looks at him with a furrowed brow. "Which friends?" he asks.
"Uh, Pidge," Keith says, ignoring Pidge's muffled snickers from behind him. "And a few other people I've met over the summer," he says, trying to be as vague as possible. Shiro's eyes narrow and then he starts grinning.
"Is one of them that guy? The hot guy?" he asks, and Keith groans and covers his face with his hands.
"No," he says firmly. "These are friends, we're going to be playing video games in my room, please don't make things weird."
Shiro ruffles his hair, ignoring his protesting noises, and laughs a little. "Fine, fine, I'll be nice. I’ll even be extra nice. I can go hang out with Matt for a while, he's been meaning to show me some of the music he's working on anyways." They all shuffle out the front door and Shiro locks it behind him, looking back through the glass automatically, checking to make sure everything looks right. "Do you wanna grab dinner?"
"Pidge and I can grab some burgers, if you wanna eat with Matt," Keith suggests, and Shiro nods, clicking a switch on his keychain absently.
"I'll probably be home in a few hours, okay? Don't trash the house," Shiro says, slapping Keith's back and rubbing Pidge's head before he splits off and walks in the direction of Matt's apartment. Keith watches him for a moment, glad to see he looks better than he had yesterday, slightly guilty he'd forgotten to check on him because he'd been so wrapped up in Lance. After this is handled, he thinks to himself.
Pidge splits off briefly to grab their own computer, while he grabs the food. When they finally make it to his house and eat, he can barely taste the food he's chewing, watching the clock tick closer and closer to when Lance is supposed to show up. Pidge watches him with barely concealed amusement, and he throws a fry at them. A miniature food fight almost breaks out, when there's a knock on the front door, and Keith freezes and takes a ketchup packet to the face.
"Oops," Pidge says unapologetically. "Are you gonna get the door?"
Keith flips them a finger and then hurries to the front door, absently smoothing out his shirt, hoping there's no food on him anywhere. When he opens the door, Shay is watching the street, Hunk is waving a hand at him, and Lance is there in front, looking down at the ground, evidently inspecting their welcome mat, which says Hi, I'm Mat , an unfortunate housewarming gift from Matt. He's smiling absently, and it widens when he looks up and sees Keith.
He's not wearing the sunglasses or the hat right now, his hair artfully disheveled and his eyes glinting in the setting twilight. Keith's heart leaps into his throat and lingers, but he swallows it back down and opens the door wider.
"Come in," he says, and inwardly cringes at how awkward his voice is. "Um, did you want -- a drink, something to drink?"
"Got an espresso machine at the house?" Lance asks, brushing past Keith and examining the house with interest, looking around the living room. He's wearing the same normal clothes he's always worn in front of Keith, but there's something about seeing him and knowing he's a prince, a real prince standing in Keith's home, that makes him worry about the threadbare couch, and the slightly crooked coffee table Keith had built out of wood he'd found on sidewalk curbs waiting to be hauled away. There are the pillows his mother had put on the couch at their old house, a dozen years old and clearly showing it, and his dad's favorite lamp, yellowed a little with age, sitting next to Shiro's armchair. It's not a hideous living room -- it's one of Keith's favorite places in the world -- but it is not a palace.
"Don't be rude," Hunk scolds him, and then smiles brightly at Keith. "Thanks for inviting us over. And for helping with the hacking stuff. If this thing required building some kind of robot or deconstructing some kind of machine or engine I'd be fine, but coding is a little bit harder for me."
"That's what Pidge lives for," Keith says, smiling back tentatively.
Shay hasn't said anything yet, shutting the door behind her and looking around the house as well, with much sharper eyes. Her gaze slides over the couch and lamp and pictures on the wall, lingering on the windows and the doors, until finally she looks at Keith. She clasps her hands behind her back, and her voice is warm when she says, "Thank you for helping, Keith. Lance is determined to do this, and I am determined to keep him safe, so this assists us immensely."
Pidge comes into the living room with their bag, slinging it onto the couch. "I'm ready to go when you guys are. There's some fries leftover if anyone wants any."
"We ate earlier," Hunk says, looking at the various bits of tech Pidge pulls out curiously. "How are you going to keep from being noticed?"
"I've got a program -- several of them, actually -- that lets me in the backdoor of pretty much anything," Pidge says, already tapping. "I've been testing it on government servers and websites for ages. This one shouldn't be much more difficult. Now, doing an actual security system during a real time break in--"
"That's still up for debate," Hunk says, giving Lance a look. "I don't know how likely it would be that there's even anything in there worth breaking in for."
"There has to be something," Lance says, tilting his head at Pidge's computer screen, watching them type so quickly their fingers almost blur. "I can't follow this," he admits, looking up at Keith. "I was joking about the espresso machine, but maybe a glass of water?"
"Sure," Keith says, grateful to have something to do, and hurries out of the room towards the kitchen. He's just debating on how much ice to put into the glass (one of their only nice glasses, one of the ones from their old house) when he hears someone follow him in. He glances behind himself to see Lance leaning against the door frame and watching him. "You didn't have to come, I can bring it to you," Keith says.
"They're having fun explaining all of that technical jargon to Shay. I'd rather hang out with you," Lance says. His mouth is a dangerous curl, his arms casually tucked into his pockets. He still looks out of place, bigger than the room somehow, the force of his gaze a physical touch. Keith is slowly growing familiar with this, the feeling of being over his head but kind of enjoying the sensation. It’s nearly constant when he’s with Lance.
"Hang out with me in the kitchen while I get you water?" he asks, filling the glass and sliding it towards Lance, who has to quickly pull his hands out of his pockets and grab the cup to keep it from sloshing over.
"I'm not much for computer sciences or for math," Lance says, taking a sip and smiling over the brim of his cup.
"You're in college, aren't you?" Keith asks, leaning back against the cabinets. Lance sets his cup down and moves a little closer, leaning back against the wall. His toes are pointed towards Keith, the same expensive shoes from that first day. Two thousand dollar shoes in Keith's tiny kitchen.
"Sophomore this fall," Lance says, shrugging. "I'm going to school for International Diplomacy. I don't need to be king to do something to help Altea, and I'm good at talking to people, at making connections." He looks at Keith, tilting his head. "What about you?"
"I'll be a freshman," Keith says. "I'm -- I'm undecided."
"You'll figure something out," Lance says, grinning. "Maybe you'll write the book we were pretending to come up with."
"A writer?" Keith asks, surprised.
"You like books, don't you?" Lance asks. Somehow they've drifted closer together, so that their shoulders are nearly touching. Keith can feel the warmth coming off of him, the hint of freckles on the tops of his cheekbones distracting him for a second.
"How did you know that?" Keith asks.
"I wonder, Nancy Drew," Lance teases, and Keith goes pink. "Plus I've seen you a couple of times reading when you get bored at work. And there are tons of books in the living room. I'm assuming at least some of them are yours."
"Most," Keith admits, strangely pleased that Lance has noticed so much. "Shiro gets too busy to read most of the time, but he likes the classics. I'll read pretty much anything."
"I like mysteries," Lance says. Their shoulders brush, and Keith gives into the urge to just lean in a little bit, pressing his shoulder to Lance's. Lance is tall enough that this close, he has to tilt his head just a little to look up at him. His stomach flutters nervously. "Or books about space. My mom and I used to stargaze a lot when I was a kid. It was kind of our thing, which was a big deal when you're the youngest of five. I always loved finding Leo, because lions were my favorite animal growing up."
"Shiro taught me the major constellations growing up, but I didn't have a favorite. He likes to tell stories about me coming up with my own constellations," Keith says, looking up at the ceiling. When they were young, Shiro would put a new constellation up on the ceiling of his room every week, teaching them slowly to Keith, and once a month, on a clear night, they would drive with his parents out of the city to stargaze. Those nights are some of the strongest memories of his childhood, some of the only memories he really has of his parents any more.
"You could write a book about space, then," Lance suggests, glancing sideways at him, bumping his shoulder so they rock together. "You know you'd have at least one fan."
This close, Keith can smell something spicy, like cinnamon gum. He can see the deep waters of Lance's eyes, the way his mouth forms a perfect bow when he smiles. Lance's lashes are long and dark, and they flutter as Lance looks down at him, eyes darting over his face as if he's studying him, looking for something specific. Keith's stomach feels tight with tension and anticipation, and he waits with bated breath as Lance leans in closer, his own eyes already lidded--
"We did it!" Pidge shouts, and they jerk apart fast enough that Keith smashes back into the cabinets. "We found something!"
"Sorry! Are you okay?" Lance asks, touching his shoulder slightly when Keith winces.
"Fine," Keith says, mortified. What had he been doing? Was he really going to try and kiss Lance , prince and relative stranger, in his kitchen while his best friend broke several laws in the next room? "We should go see what they found," he says, edging around Lance quickly. He hurries back to the living room, hearing Lance slowly follow behind him.
In the living room, Pidge is sitting with their legs crossed, balancing their laptop on top of them, while Hunk leans over one shoulder and Shay leans over the other. They look pleased with themselves, while Shay and Hunk are looking with furrowed brows at the screen.
"What did you find?" Keith asks, looking straight ahead as Lance comes up next to him. Pidge gestures to the screen, where a download bar is slowly filling up.
"I got in pretty easily, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't noticed, so all I had to do from there was find out where documents concerning the building were located. Found the blueprints after a bit of searching, but finding something regarding who works where was a little bit harder because it changes so often. I think I found something from one of the mail room computers that keeps track? That wasn't the best part, though," they say, tapping lightly. A screen pops up, an email with no subject. "This was from some unknown person to the Sec of Defense, that Zarkon guy who's been heading up all of the press conferences about Galra recently. I can't trace the person through their email, it's a burner account. Zarkon didn't respond, but I don't think they use this server to communicate usually, because I didn't find any other emails from this account or similar ones. This one I found through searching for references to Allura and the Galra empire, cross referenced with words pertaining to yesterday's attempted attack."
The email is short, with a series of numbers as the email name, and does not state who it is for or from.
We have given P his directions. I shall give the go ahead at the agreed upon time shortly after noon. Dove will be in her office at that time. Should draw sufficient attention. S will tip off relevant sources, including in Galra. Will meet with you later.
"Dove is Allura's codename for palace security, which is what Shay told me to search for," Pidge explains. "I think P is Prorok, that guy who tried to break in yesterday. His name is all over documents and conversations about yesterday. No idea who S is, or if it was meant to go to Zarkon, or if it was for someone else in the organization, or what."
Lance looks slightly shellshocked. "I knew it had to go pretty far up to be of any benefit to someone to try and stage a coup," he says uneasily. "But I didn't think Zarkon. He was one of my uncle's most trusted advisers."
"This is just circumstantial," Shay says, frowning. "We do not know who it is from or exactly what it pertains to, we do not even know if Zarkon was the one who received it."
"We have to get more evidence," Lance says firmly. "I've got to have something concrete to take to Allura."
"How do we know there's even anything to find in there," Keith wonders, and Pidge makes a face.
"There's some stuff on this guy’s computer that’s locked away, and I'd need to be physically there to access," Pidge says, "Or have someone else be there that I could talk through. I can see that it's there but I can't tell what it is. I can only assume that with this level of encryption it's important, though."
"And you still us think sneaking in is the best way to get it?" Hunk asks skeptically. "Lance, you're nineteen. Shay is the oldest out of all of us, and she's only twenty-one. Most of us are civilians with no experience. I don't think this is a good idea."
"It most certainly is not," Shay says, frowning a little.
"I know that," Lance says hotly. "I'm well aware of all of the things that can go wrong. But I'm -- I have to do something , don't I? I can't just sit back and wait. Allura's hands are tied, and besides she's trying to run the country and actually get crowned in two weeks." Lance's faces them with a determined look in his eye, bracing his hands on the back of the couch. "I'm gonna do this. I won't make any of you join me, especially Keith and Pidge. But Allura and Altea are more important that what might happen to me."
It should sound ridiculous. It should be the kind of speech you hear in a television drama, or read about in an action novel, but Keith feels his heart pound in his chest looking at Lance. He's backlit by the kitchen light, dressed in casual clothes in a living room with an awful picture of Keith in soccer gear on the wall behind him, but Keith can see the kind of person, the kind of king he might have been. Selfless, headstrong, confident in what was right and wrong -- Keith's heart does a slow twirl in his chest, aching behind his lungs.
"I'll help," he hears himself say. He can’t quite bring himself to think that it's a bad idea, especially not when Lance sends him a relieved look.
"I'm in," Pidge says excitedly. "This will be the first practical test of some of the algorithms I've made. It'll be amazing."
"I'm always with you, bro," Hunk says, reaching out and nudging Lance's shoulder with his fist. "You know that. Plus, someone's gotta be there to make sure you don't make a mess of things."
"Yes," Shay says, "That would be me."
"Hey," Lance says, laughing as they trade grins. "You're stepping on my cool moment."
"The moment has passed," Hunk says solemnly. "So what do you wanna do from here? We've got enough info to figure out where we need to go, but now we need to figure out how."
"I think--" Lance starts to say, but they all cut off at the sound of the front door opening.
"Keith?" Shiro calls, toeing off his shoes at the front door. "Sorry, I know I said I'd be out longer but I really have some paperwork I need to do." He walks around the corner and takes one look at the five of them huddled in the living room around Pidge, whose screen is open to blueprints and documents flashing past as the computer reads them. He opens his mouth and then closes it audibly as he catches sight of Lance, who smiles sheepishly at him.
"Hello," Lance says, a little awkwardly. "It's nice to finally meet you?"
"Keith," Shiro says faintly. "Are you -- is this the guy you've been talking about?" Keith inwardly winces at the way Lance glances his way at that, but nods his head. "He's -- you're the prince," Shiro says, as if Lance isn't well aware of who he is.
"One of the princes," Lance says. "I have brothers. And a couple of cousins."
"We're his friends," Hunk says, waving his hand. "But it's okay that you don't know us, I guess."
"Shiro," Keith says, "I can explain."
"Can you?" Shiro asks, frowning. Keith hears a small snapping noise as Pidge casually shuts the laptop screen, tucking it under their arms. "Because I really think I would remember if you'd said that literal royalty was coming to our house."
"I only found out yesterday?" Keith tries hopefully. Shiro gives him an unimpressed look, and Keith wracks his brain for something to say, coming up with absolutely nothing. Lance clears his throat and draws both of their attention back to himself effortlessly.
"I asked Keith to keep it a secret. I just wanted to spend some time with my friends, as a normal person. I rarely get to do that. I'm sorry for the deception." He smiles, an earnest and sincere smile, and Keith can pinpoint exactly when Shiro relents, because his shoulders loosen and he gives Lance a crooked smile in return.
"I'm sorry," Shiro says. "I just wasn't expecting to find you here, I suppose. I see you in the news a lot. It's like walking in and finding -- finding --"
"The princess, maybe?" Pidge suggests, when Shiro struggles for a few seconds to find someone to compare to, which makes Shiro roll his eyes and Lance laugh.
"Allura would love your coffee," Lance says brightly. "I could bring her along sometime."
Shiro stares at him for a long moment, and then sighs. "I'm going to my room," he says, long-suffering. "Let me know if you need anything, or if more royalty will be coming to our house."
"Will do," Keith says, slightly guiltily. He's relieved when Shiro rubs a hand over his hair as he passes, enough that he doesn't say anything in protest about him messing his hair up.
"That was close," Pidge says, as the door closes behind Shiro.
"We should talk about this somewhere else," Keith says, eyeing Shiro's room. Lance nods and taps Pidge's shoulder.
"Can you send what you have to Hunk, and we'll get started on figuring something out? We can talk about it tomorrow during your breaks or after work." He looks up at Keith with serious eyes. "Or you can change your minds about helping out at all. I won't mind."
"Not happening," Keith says firmly.
"Yeah," Pidge says, sticking their laptop in their bag and grinning up at them. "This may be my only chance to be a part of a heist."
"This is not a heist," Hunk says, grimacing. "Heist makes it sound scarier. Like some kind of movie where things explode a lot."
"It does fit the parameters of a heist, though," Shay points out. "Except for the exploding. So far."
"Good vibes," Lance says wryly. "Okay, we should head back. We can meet at the shop -- shit, wait, we can't -- we'll have to meet Monday, I have to meet with a bunch of people about my clothes for the coronation, as well as the speech I'm supposed to give." Lance makes an annoyed face, which makes Keith smile a little.
"That's fine," Keith says, shrugging. "We're closed on Sundays, anyways."
"Good to know," Lance says, "Because I definitely would have showed up without checking first. We'll meet Monday at the shop."
He looks at Hunk and Shay and they both stand up. Shay reaches them first, stopping on the door only to smile gently at Keith.
"Thank you for this," she says, tipping her head towards him, and then opens the front door to peer into the darkness, already on her phone.
"Yeah, hopefully your brother doesn't give you too much trouble," Hunk says, grinning at Keith. "I know my sisters were nonstop when they found out I was best friends with a real life prince, but that was like, twelve years ago, so maybe it's different when it's a fully grown adult."
"He's probably going to be torn between lecturing me and trying to figure out how likely it is that Lance really will ask Allura to come to the shop," Keith says, which makes Hunk laugh. He fist bumps with Pidge before he joins Shay out on the front step, leaving Lance to linger in the hallway.
"Sorry," Lance says ruefully. "About -- everything, I guess, but mostly the whole 'lying to your brother' thing. I panicked a little."
"It's fine," Keith says, shrugging. "He's used to me pulling stuff like this." He glances to the side, where Pidge is obviously eavesdropping. "It's probably better than anything I ever came up with, though."
Lance winks. "International Diplomacy comes in clutch." Keith laughs a little, and Lance's smile goes soft. He reaches out and touches Keith's arm, just his fingertips against the skin, and Keith shivers. "I'll see you tomorrow, Keith," he says quietly.
His voice, blanketed between them in the darkness of night, is like the feeling of the first sip of warm tea in the morning, of waking up to a rain shower, of burying your face in a pile of freshly washed blankets. Keith feels that same slow evolution of his heart in his chest, a little bit faster now, a little bit heavier. It scares him a little, but he swallows that feeling and nods his head.
"Be safe going home," he manages to say, and Lance flashes a grin and walks out of the front door into the night. Keith watches as they get into a black car and drive away, and then closes the door and leans against it heavily.
"I'm trying to decide how much shit I want to give you, versus how much I still want to be involved in this whole thing," Pidge says thoughtfully.
"Shut up," Keith says, covering his face with his hands. He feels like he's hurtling towards a cliff, a mixture of adrenaline and worry coursing through his veins. He wonders if he's making the right decisions -- he wonders if there is a right decision. All he can think of are Lance's earnest eyes and his confident smile. He can't decide if he's terrified or thrilled.
"Are you okay, dude?" Pidge asks, shuffling off of the couch with their bag, slinging it over their shoulder. "You know I'm just teasing, I think he's cool. They all are." They step close and nudge his shoulder with theirs, although their height means they just sort of bump his arm. "And I'm not too worried about anything going wrong when there's royalty involved."
"I know," Keith says, lowering his hands and quirking his mouth at them. "I'm fine."
"Sure," Pidge says skeptically. "Tell Shiro bye for me, see you in the morning." They push their way through the door as well, turning around and saluting him sardonically.
"Bye Pidge," he says, saluting back. "Be careful."
"I've got a taser," Pidge says, and then flashes a grin in the darkness and walks off. Keith watches them for a moment, and then closes the door and steels himself. He straightens his shoulders and makes his way towards Shiro's room, hesitating only briefly before he knocks on the door.
"That sounds incredible," Nyma says, far too pleased for a Monday morning, and Keith flips her off when she dissolves into laughter. "He just walked in on you guys? Totally unaware?"
"It wasn't that bad," Keith says exasperatedly. "We talked later and he was fine, it just took him by surprise. You know how Shiro is."
"Sure," Shiro says in his ear, making Keith jump in place and spin around to face him. A volley of curse words spew out of his mouth before he can stop himself, which makes Nyma laugh harder and Shiro break into a grin. "Sorry, did I take you by surprise?" Shiro asks innocently.
"No," Keith says, crossing his arms.
"Okay," Shiro says. "I assume we'll be having visitors again today?"
"Yes," Pidge says, busy tinkering with espresso maker. "Probably around noon. Are you wanting to give him the third degree? A shovel talk?"
"There's nothing to talk about," Keith snaps.
"Just curious," Shiro says, holding up his hands. "I just thought I might ask if he had any ideas about that drink for Princess Allura. A flavor that suits her or that she prefers."
"I'll ask him," Keith says, glaring at Pidge out of the corner of his eye. They unrepentantly smirk at him and resume pulling on what is hopefully a nonessential wire.
"Thank you," Shiro says, patting Keith's shoulder and grinning. Keith feels himself relenting, dropping his shoulders and his crossed arms. "Let me know if you guys need anything."
"Will do, boss," Nyma says. When Shiro is in the back, Nyma looks at them with raised eyebrows. "So Shiro doesn't know about all of the conspiracy theory war stuff?"
"He doesn't need to get involved," Keith says, pinning her with a look. She shrugs her shoulders at him and he sighs. "Shiro likes to solve things the right way -- through the right channels, with the right people. He wouldn't approve of taking matters into our own hands like this."
"He might if he knew all of the circumstances," Nyma says. "But hey, I'm not involved. There's nothing for me to tell."
"We haven't done anything yet," Keith says. "Maybe. Pidge might have done a little bit of something."
"Something that no one can reliably pin on me," Pidge agrees. "Barely anything."
"I'm not involved," Nyma singsongs, going to load up the sugar packets and the napkins.
Keith sighs. The last week, every morning has dragged on so long that he almost feels like time has frozen, which was never the case before. Even during the rush, Keith finds himself checking the door, or distracted wondering what Lance is doing, if he's okay. He realizes with a jolt that tomorrow will make it a week since the first time he met Lance, back when he was just a mysterious stranger in sunglasses.
A week seems too short a time for the feelings churning in his gut, for the exhilaration and anxiety that are attached to the number in his phone. Keith has always been impulsive -- he used to get into trouble for wandering off of school property during recess to go exploring, and he's used to coming home to disappointed looks from Shiro because he couldn't keep from mouthing off to teachers in school. This is a different impulse altogether, something Keith isn't used to feeling.
He's worrying his lower lip between his teeth when the bell chimes, and Lance walks in, talking to Shay who's just behind him. He glances up at Keith, still midsentence.
They lock eyes and Lance smiles and Keith is helpless. He smiles back.
"Good morning," Lance says. He casts his glance around the empty room and says, "Are you ready for some espionage?"
"I don't think that's the right word for it," Keith tells him. "Are you guys ordering?"
"Obviously," Lance says. "I think I'm addicted to coffee now. Yesterday was so difficult to get through -- it was definitely more boring than being here."
Keith rolls his eyes and accepts the exact change Lance offers him while Pidge starts on their drinks. "You got to try on clothes and stuff. I would have thought that was fun."
"Well, okay, that part was fun," Lance admits. "But there was a lot more boring bits than good ones."
"Did you guys talk any about how to get into the building?" Pidge asks, sliding the cups his way. Lance picks up his latte and takes a sip, sighing happily.
"A little," he says. "I think we're going to have to go straight to Zarkon's office, which is probably going to be difficult. There's round the clock security, even though the office technically closes at six. There's metal detectors and a sign in downstairs, and all of the public figure offices are on the third and fourth floor. Second floor is administrative stuff, so there shouldn't be anyone on that floor." He pauses, taking another drink. "There might be cameras though. We don't quite know yet."
"Will there be people in their offices on the third or fourth floors?" Keith asks.
"There shouldn't be, but some people do stay late. I've noticed the assistant to the secretary of the treasury lingering until as late as eight. A few others stay past closing but not too often. The night shift for security in the lobby is pretty lax, actually, there's only four or five people on ground floor, but we think that's because they have a really strong security system. Automatic locks on doors, alarms, motion detectors." He makes a face. "Hunk is working on whether or not it's possible to get into the building off the roof or something."
"How would you get to the roof?" Keith asks.
"Grappling hook," Lance says, grinning.
"You will not," Shay calls from the table, frowning at him. "Hunk, really."
"It's just an idea," Hunk says, covering her hand with his own. "Completely theoretical. Totally."
"What's theoretical?" Shiro says, popping through the door from the back with his mug in hand. Lance is the one who jumps a little this time, although he recovers more quickly than Keith had. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," Lance says, smiling weakly.
"We were talking about the drink for Princess Allura," Nyma says smoothly. "They were giving us ideas for the flavors that she would like in a tribute drink for her coronation."
It only takes Lance a moment of furrowed brows to follow Nyma's lead, and he says, "Yes, I was saying that she would really love something with a really unique flavor, maybe something with rose or lavender? Those are her favorite kinds of teas."
"Rose," Shiro says thoughtfully. "That might be doable. I know she likes the color pink, maybe I could make a rose-flavored latte that's pink...maybe some other flavor to balance it out..." He trails off, running his thumb over his lower lip in concentration.
"You'll think of something," Keith says supportively. He glances at Lance, who looks relieved.
"Thank you for the help," Shiro says, smiling. "I was just refilling my cup." He pours himself more coffee, leaving it black, and heads back to his office, still looking thoughtful. Keith lets out a breath and Lance cracks a grin.
"Stellar espionage," Nyma says dryly.
"I have had doubts from the beginning, but they have multiplied immensely," Shay says, prompting Hunk to laugh and Lance to break into a pout.
"It'll be fine," Lance says nonchalantly.
"I've got some ideas for how to get into building," Pidge says. "And I think I can circumvent some of the security measures."
"Can I have your number? I've got some gear that might help," Hunk says, coming up to the counter and handing his phone over to Pidge, who nods as they grab it and start tapping. "It would be easier to coordinate if we had all of our resources pooled somewhere."
"I've got loads of programs that work on security cameras, although the motion detectors might be a bit trickier to confuse," Pidge says.
"I've got security contacts," Shay says. "And experience with planning operations like this."
"I'm a prince?" Lance says tentatively.
"I'm a normal person," Keith says.
"We can work more specifics out later," Hunk says hastily, taking his phone back from Pidge. "If we're still committed to doing this."
"I am," Lance says firmly. "I think it's got to happen, and the sooner the better. I don't want to risk something happening to Allura before then."
"Okay," Hunk says, looking resigned for a moment and then straightening up. "Then we're in this together. I guess I'll keep looking over the blueprints with Shay for right now, Lance." He grabs the drinks that Pidge made for him and Shay and heads back to the table and sits down, this time next to Shay, who immediately leans against his arm and smiles at him.
Lance shows no signs of following him, choosing to lean against the counter and look with interest at all of the machines behind Pidge.
"Aren't you gonna go sit with them?" Keith asks before he can stop himself.
"I've been coming here for a week and I haven't thought about trying anything different," Lance says. "What do you recommend?"
"I don't actually like coffee," Keith says, which prompts Lance into laughter. "It's not like I dislike it," he amends. "I just prefer less bitter flavors. I drink the tea that we offer mostly."
"What do you recommend?" Lance asks, leaning closer.
Keith doesn't know how long they talk, about drinks and then books and then school and then sports, on and off as customers come in. Lance lingers around the front counter, sipping from his latte, accepting a refill from Pidge without stopping in the middle of a story about the time he got lost once while he was in Paris and had to nervously stumble his way through a conversation with high school French. Hunk and Shay interject from time to time, correcting a fact or objecting to Lance's creative retelling of stories, but for the most part it's Lance just talking to Keith while the rest of the world spins on around them. Keith tells Lance about growing up with Shiro, about ice cream for dinner and the thousands of cups of coffee he's sipped from, about his soccer team and the games they'd won this year, about the first time he read Nancy Drew. It's the most he's ever really talked with anyone without feeling nervous, except for Shiro.
It's almost three in the afternoon before Hunk interrupts Lance mid-story (about the time he was braiding Allura's hair and refused to stop even when an important document needed signing right away) and says, "We should probably head back."
"Oh," Lance says, straightening up. He had been toying with a napkin on the counter as he spoke, twirling it across the surface, closer and closer to Keith's arm. Keith also stands up, flushing a little. "I lost track of time," Lance says, a little guiltily. The tips of his ears are red.
"No prob," Hunk says, waving a hand. "I can catch you up. It was mostly just memorizing layouts and Shay suggesting blind spots to me. Then we kinda goofed off and started watching videos on my phone."
"Cool," Lance says, still a little pink. "Just -- give me a second." Hunk nods and goes back to gather up his things, which leaves Keith at the counter with Lance, who meets his eyes somewhat sheepishly.
"I didn't meant to spend so much time talking," he says.
"I did too," Keith points out, and Lance smiles, a slow curve of his mouth that transforms his face into something soft and beautiful. Keith's stomach squirms happily.
"See you tomorrow?" he asks, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear Lance confirm it.
"Tomorrow," Lance agrees. He reaches out and taps Keith's hand, still resting on the counter, with the napkin. "Serious stuff tomorrow."
"Of course," Keith agrees, grinning. Lance points a finger at him and walks backwards towards Shay and Hunk, somehow managing to not trip over his own feet.
Keith watches them leave, watches Lance glance back at him before they leave sight through the windows, only turning to look at Nyma and Pidge once they're completely gone. Nyma looks amused as usual, and Pidge looks somewhere between delighted and mortified.
"You really like him," Pidge says. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk that much."
"We've known each other for like four years and I've never heard that one story from you about Shiro forgetting you at the grocery store when you were thirteen," Nyma adds.
"I just -- he's easy to talk to," Keith says defensively.
"Sure," Pidge says. "And also easy to like, apparently."
"Leave him be, Pidge," Nyma says, waving a hand. "You should know by now how Keith works."
"And how is that?" Keith asks sardonically.
Nyma smiles; it's a smile he's used to by now, but it's no less infuriating. That smile that says she knows things he doesn't yet, that she's always four or five steps ahead. "You'll get there in the end."
He doesn't have anything to say to that. Pidge softens the blow by putting a cup of tea in front of him, and he sips it slowly, savoring the flavor and trying not to let his thoughts turn to princes or plots for the rest of the day.
The group meets up continuously over the next few days, but time restrictions in Lance's schedule mean they're shorter meetings than usual, so Pidge connects them to a secure group chat to discuss more aspects of the proposed infiltration. Keith doesn't have much to contribute, and Hunk and Pidge easily surpass them talking about technical aspects of taking control of cameras or rerouting alarms, so Keith finally gathers his courage one evening and texts Lance's number.
I was starting to wonder if you'd lost it, Lance texts back nearly immediately.
Keith flushes and says, I had it in my phone this whole time.
And yet you took so long!
Better late than never?
Very true, Lance says, and sends him a winking emoji. Keith lowers his face to his pillow to smother his smile.
They text early into the morning, until Keith is yawning wide enough that his jaw cracks and he realizes he has only about four hours until he has to be awake for work. Lance apologizes for keeping him up, and only teases him about the dark circles under his eyes a little bit later. Keith can't even be annoyed that Lance, by contrast, looks as fresh and bright as ever.
During the day, Lance crowds around the front counter when he’s not with Hunk and Shay, playing with the napkin dispenser, quizzing Keith on stars and constellations, asking endless questions about Keith’s life.
(“If you were writing a book, what would you write?” he asks, spinning his empty cup between his fingertips on the counter, his ring flashing in the midafternoon sunshine. Keith is almost too distracted watching it to answer, but then he thinks about it.
“The book you were making up sounds pretty good,” Keith admits, absently fiddling with the pen they keep next to the register. There are marks all over his fingertips from where he’s been flipping it between his fingers, trying to dispel his nervous energy.
“I can see you writing an action/mystery drama,” Lance says, grinning. “Would you write the romance?”
Keith crosses his arms, smirking at Lance. “I bet I’d write a better romance than you guys would have.”
Lance gapes at him, affronted. “Hey, I’m a romantic guy!” he protests.
“And I’m not?” Keith asks challengingly.
“I dunno,” Lance says, glancing up and down his body, making Keith flush. “I haven’t seen any evidence yet.”
“Ugh,” Pidge says from the other side of the counter. “I have evidence of how gross you both are, and so let's stop.”)
At night, they text each other; Keith messages him while he’s making dinner, or while he’s washing dishes, or while he curls up on the couch with Shiro watching the news. He stays up later than he has since he started working at the ship, even though it means losing precious hours of sleep, just to hear what Lance has to say.
(You’re on the news, Keith texts him, watching a news anchor show older footage of Lance making a little girl laugh by doing a poor job of juggling. The anchor is mentioning that Lance, usually so active in the public light during his free summers, has been strangely absent from the spotlight this summer, and speculates that he’s resting and relaxing before the coronation.
I know, Lance says, sending an emoji rolling its eyes. That footage is super old.
Yeah, nice hair, Keith sends, looking at the gelled up spikes of Lance hair, comparing it to the way messy soft fall of his hair now.
Like you can talk, Lance sends, and then quickly sends a kissy face emoji before Keith can be offended.)
The whole week goes on this way, conversations spinning out into topics that span their entire lives and interests, until on Friday night, Keith looks up from his phone to see Shiro watching him from his desk with a strange expression on his face. He looks like he's trying to figure out a puzzle, head tilted slightly, mouth pursed and brow furrowed.
"What?" Keith asks, lowering his phone into his lap.
"Nothing," Shiro says, smiling a little. When Keith gives him an unconvinced look, he laughs. "I'm just -- I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. That you've made new friends."
Keith frowns at him. "I had friends before. You've met them."
"Yeah," Shiro says, shrugging. "But this feels different. You never talked to them as much, or about them as much. Not even that last guy you had a crush on."
"Takashi," Keith says plaintively, "We agreed not to bring him up again."
"Yeah, well, we also agreed not to leave the milk cartons empty in the fridge, and I know someone who’s been slacking on that rule, so suck it up." Shiro raises an eyebrow at him when he scoffs, grinning, but then he sobers quickly. "Hey, seriously. You're good, right?"
Keith looks at his brother, so calm and familiar, his entire family in one person, and has to swallow the urge to spill everything at once -- this insane plot of theirs, the possibility that the princess's life might be in danger, his overflowing feelings for Lance that only grow every day, all of it scarier and bigger than he ever thought. He's grown so used to running to Shiro for everything -- skinned knees, silent comfort, advice on school and boys and everything in between.
But this isn't his secret to tell, and the further away Shiro is from everything, the better. Keith deliberately keeps his hands at his sides and says, looking directly at Shiro, "Everything is good. Really." And then, because he feels guilty not sharing everything, he says, "I think you would -- you'd like him, if you got to talk to him. He reminds me of mom."
Shiro blinks at him, and then laughs softly. "That's scary," he teases. Keith scowls at him, and Shiro laughs again, louder. "I'll make some more time and get to know him," he says. Keith settles back into the couch, satisfied. "Hey, you can head home without me," Shiro says, settling his hands back at his keyboard. "I'm probably going to be here another hour or so."
Keith glances at his phone, which is nearly dead, and grimaces. "Yeah, I'll head home. I'll start dinner. Is spaghetti okay with you?"
"Since it's one of three meals between us that we can cook without burning anything, yes," Shiro says, waving a hand at him. "Go on, enjoy your youth while you can."
"Will do, old man," Keith says, grinning. He gathers up his things and checks his phone one last time (it's on 14%, and there's a message from Lance complaining that the palace security detail is on him constantly about where he is nowadays, and what he's doing). He fires off a text saying he'll contact him when he's home in order to conserve power, and heads out of the back door, since the front is already locked down. He's almost to the end of the alley and back onto the street when he hears a noise, something shifting, maybe clothes sliding against each other, or someone taking a step against the pavement. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
He peers into the darkness, trying to discern anything but gloom. "Lance?" he calls, even though he knows where Lance is right now, even though there's a tugging at the back of his mind, telling him there's something wrong. "Hello?" He takes a step further into the alley again, clutching his bag closer to him, telling himself it's just an alley cat, or a rat, or someone throwing away their own garbage.
He only has time to turn back around and face the street again before someone grabs him and everything goes dark.
Keith wakes up to an argument, hushed voices scraping against his ringing ears and the ugly headache making space behind his forehead.
"You weren't supposed to grab him," someone whispers heatedly. "And you shouldn't have brought him here ." It sounds like an older woman, but Keith can't be sure. Everything is dark, and for a moment he's terrified he's blind, but then he feels something shift against his face and realizes he's been blindfolded. The awkward fold of his arms and the way his wrists hurt tell him he's also bound, but he can't really feel his hands that well. His feet are also stuck together, with something thin and sharp, like a zip tie.
"We need the prince, our future plans hinge on him being part of our image," someone with a deeper voice argues. "He's been looking into things he shouldn't, this kid is as good a reason as any to make him keep his toe in line."
"And bringing him here? " the first voice questions, barely concealed fury.
"It was closest, and we're well known here -- it's not suspicious for us to be here, or to use the back entrance," the other voice says. "This is just a holdover. We're not keeping him, he won't know who took him. This is just to prove to McClain that we're not fucking around, that he needs to do as we say. Did you think we were gonna ask him pretty please to be the smiling face of our campaign and he'd say yes? We want him to keep the people docile and unquestioning of our authority, he's a necessary facet of all of this, we need him to know we're not messing around."
"I know, imbecile, I'm the one who suggested him because of how popular he is among the people. But I thought we would keep him as in the dark as possible about our--"
"He already knows," the other voice interrupts. "We've been having him followed the last few days, and there's no doubt he's been digging into what we've been working on. It might have already reached the princess."
"She hasn't behaved any differently since Prorok got caught," the woman says. "And I keep an eye on her, she trusts me."
"It doesn't really matter what she suspects. She'll be dead in a few days anyways. We just can't have some snot-nosed kid and a bunch of his friends drawing attention to us. This will make him shut up."
"Allura is his cousin," the woman says. "You think he'll sell her out for this kid he's known less than two weeks?"
"I think this is his boyfriend. He's been at the coffee shop he works at for the last two weeks, the prince's number is in his phone. I read their messages -- this kid is important to him. At the very least, I think it'll make him second guess himself enough to give us our chance," the man says. "That's all we need."
"I don't like any of this," the woman says. "This wasn't what I planned--"
"Zarkon will have his kingdom," the man says. "That's been our entire plan. Anything that gets us to that goal is what we need to do."
"What are we supposed to do with this kid though?" the woman asks. "He's going to know something happened. He's got family."
"I texted the prince from the kid's phone. He knows he's been taken. From here it's just waiting to see if he'll be compliant with our wishes and keep his mouth shut. If he does, we drop this kid off in front of his house with him none the wiser about who we are, and the prince knows what we're willing to do if he says anything, and that we're always watching him and those he associates with. He'll have no choice. And with him as our mouthpiece, we'll keep public support well into Zarkon's rule." The man sounds confident; Keith can tell he’s grinning darkly even though he can’t see his face.
He stays completely still, mind racing, trying to think past the pounding in his skull. Most of him is furious, at these people, at their plans, at the sheer fucking gall of being so brazen, to talk about killing the princess and manipulating Lance as if they were items ticked off of a to do list. The rest of him is worried -- because of course Lance wouldn't listen to them. Keith has only known Lance a little while, but he knows his heart -- he knows the kind of courage and determination that moves him, knows that Lance would never in a million years sacrifice his cousin or his country, not even for Keith. Which means Keith, and maybe even Shiro, or Pidge, or anyone connected to them, is in trouble.
He's really fucked up.
He'd never considered being noticed this way. He'd never thought he might be considered important to Lance. And now he's probably going to get killed, and maybe get his brother killed. And the worst thing is, he doesn't want Lance to give in to them. He wants Lance to do what's right, because it's what's right for everyone. He just hopes Lance does something to keep Shiro and Pidge safe.
He takes a moment to selfishly wish, though, that he won't die tonight.
"Are we just leaving him here?" the woman asks.
"Yeah," the guy says. "No one will be here tonight, he'll be unconscious for at least another few hours, and by then the prince will have given in and made his promises. He's just some kid. He'll be out of our hair until we need him."
"I hope you're right," the woman says darkly. "This could blow up in all of our faces. Especially if this brat says anything."
"He won't," the man says confidently. "I'll make sure the prince knows that we're watching all of his friends very closely."
There's some shuffling around, and then the woman says, farther away, "You can stay here with him, since this is your plan. I'm going to update Zarkon and make sure we're still ready to move forward."
"Fine," the man says. "I'll call you with updates."
There's another shuffling noise, and then some thudding as someone walks across the floor, then a door closing. Keith closes his eyes and tries to think about what he can do. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, but the idea of sitting here waiting quietly is making him itchy -- he wants to stand up, to fight, to do something. All he has on his side at the moment is the element of surprise, since they were expecting him to still be unconscious, but what good was that when he couldn't move and didn't know where he was?
There are more shuffling noises, the soft tapping noise of someone using a phone or tablet, and then someone sighs. Keith lays as still as he can, swallowing his frustration, dying to do anything but unable to think of something he could do while the guy was still here. After an interminable amount of time in which he counts the pounding beat of his own heart about five hundred times, the guy shifts in his chair and murmurs, "What in the world--"
Keith listens as hard as he can, and faintly hears a soft humming noise, followed by something thunking outside of whatever room he’s in. A chair scrapes and there are more footsteps, moving away from him, and then all of a sudden, a loud crash and someone swearing under their breath very quickly. The sound of electricity and a thud of a body hitting the floor makes Keith freeze in place, mind racing, trying to figure out if he should make himself known or not -- this could be his only chance, or he could make things worse for himself.
After a moment of hard breathing, someone whispers, "Keith?"
It’s Lance, and Keith finally lets his body loosen, wriggling in place as hard as he can, trying to sit up despite the hands behind his back and his tied ankles. "Over here," he says, his voice scratchy and weak. Someone makes a relieved noise and several people hurry in his direction at once. Keith has just managed to get up onto his knees when someone grabs his arms and holds him up, touching him carefully along the wrists.
"Shay," Lance whispers, "Do you have a knife? Or are there scissors on a desk, something, his wrists--"
"On it," Shay whispers. Someone tugs at the blindfold and loosens it, and Keith finds himself squinting into the dim lighting of an office with only a desk lamp on. On the floor next to the door is a huge man, unmoving and unconscious, and Shay moves behind the desk, digging through its drawers. He can see shadowy movement in the doorway to the hallway that looks like Hunk; for a moment, Keith thinks he’s whispering to himself, until he spots an earpiece in his ear. He looks back to the person holding him up, fingers gentle despite the nearly incandescent fury on his face. Lance is looking back at him, his eyes storm clouds churning as they examine him.
"Are you okay?" he asks, touching Keith's face, his throat, his shoulder. His hands are moving nonstop over Keith's entire body, catching on his ribs and elbows, like he’s checking to make sure everything is still there. "Keith, say something, are you--"
"I'm fine," Keith croaks. "How long--"
"About three hours," Lance says shortly. "I texted your brother, I didn't tell him exactly what we were doing but I gave him Allura's secure line and told him to contact her as soon as possible--"
"Is everyone okay?" Keith asks, "Pidge, are they--"
"They're the one who got us in here. They were so pissed off, Keith, I've never seen someone so small get so upset," Lance says. "They did something with the security system to make it seem like we weren't even here, even though it’ll probably leave traces, and Shay found out about this secret entrance that the members use when they're trying not to be noticed, and I tased that fucking--"
"Why did you -- you broke in to get me?" Keith asks, dazed. Shay finally makes a triumphant noise and came to cut Keith's ties with a pair of scissors, and he straightens his limbs with a hissing noise. Lance makes a sympathetic sound as well, taking Keith's hands and rubbing gently at the red marks on his wrists. He looks wretched, closing his eyes.
"Keith, of course I did. Like I'm gonna let some asshole tell me what to do -- I would never not come for you." Lance opens his eyes and briskly reaches down to rub at the marks on Keith's ankles as well, clearly trying to help get the feeling back into them. His face is set with anger and worry, his hair messy and sticking up on the ends.
"He thought you would be too afraid to fight back," Keith says. "I heard them -- they thought you'd be too desperate to get me back to argue, and they wanted -- they were going to use you as the face of their whole movement. Because the people love you so much." Lance's face is surprised in the half-light, and then goes dark. "They were going to blackmail you to make sure you did what they wanted." Keith looks at his hands, flexing them, watching Lance's brown hands go still on his ankles. "They didn't know you very well," Keith murmurs.
"I'm glad we'd already had these plans ready to go," Shay says quietly. "Otherwise I'm not sure we could have gotten to you."
Keith blinks. "Wait, are you guys -- what about all of the information--"
Lance opens his mouth to say something and all of them hear a commotion from the end of the hallway outside of the office they're in. Hunk's eyes widen and he rushes into the room, almost tripping over the unconscious man. Shay immediately moves in front of all of them, her face set with concentration.
"Shay, it's--" Hunk starts to say, but before he can finish, a woman strides into the room, her bright hair a tumbled mess, her expression thunderous, followed closely by a man with a bright orange mustache.
"Allura!" Lance exclaims, standing up immediately. Keith stares in shock as the princess glowers at him, crossing the room in two steps and grabbing him by the ear. She’s shorter than he is, but she looms over him when he bends to meet her.
"Lance, you absolute idiot," Allura says loudly, "What in the world have you been doing?" He yelps as she tugs on his ear for emphasis, and then again as she lets go to hug him tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay," she whispers in his ear. Lance's arms go around her waist and he buries his face in her shoulder briefly.
"I'm sorry, Allura," Lance says quietly. "I was trying to keep you safe."
"That's not your responsibility," she says, frowning again as she pulls away to glare at him. "When Coran told you about his suspicions, that was not an invitation to do your own looking around. It certainly wasn't an invitation for you to involve citizens and plot some ridiculous heist."
"No explosions though," Hunk points out, which makes Allura turn her frown on him, and has him edging back behind Shay.
"I didn't mean for Keith to--" Lance begins, but someone pushes behind the man with the mustache -- it's Shiro, out of breath and slightly frantic, and he makes eye contact with Keith and immediately lunges for him.
"I'm okay, Takashi," Keith says quickly, trying to brace, but Shiro grabs him and hauls him up and into his arms, hugging him tightly with his left arm and burying his other in Keith's hair. "I'm fine," he repeats, even though his voice shakes a little. Shiro doesn't say anything, just holds Keith closely. His breath is ragged in Keith's ear, a harsh in and out exhalation.
"Shiro contacted me," Allura says, smiling slightly as she watches them. "He said you'd given him my number and that it was an emergency, and that he thought you were breaking into the Hall of Lions because something had happened to his brother." She turns her gaze back to Lance. "Why hadn't you come to me with any of this, Lance, especially if you'd found something that prompted all of this?"
"We didn't have anything that wasn't circumstantial," Lance says, looking abashed. "I knew that there wasn't anything you could do, and with your coronation so close--"
"Your safety is more important," Allura interrupts. "My citizens' safety is more important. I would have found a way, Lance."
"I thought--" Shiro murmurs in Keith's ear, seemingly not hearing the other conversation. "I was so afraid." Keith's eyes prickle hotly at the corners and he closes them quickly, swallowing hard. It's hard not to think of himself, only ten years old, watching his babysitter pace back and forth on the phone for hours trying to find answers, waiting with trepidation like a physical weight in his gut until they finally figured out which hospital Shiro was at. He hates that Shiro had to feel anything like that. He has to breathe for a few moments before he can find words again.
"I'm sorry, Shiro," Keith says quietly, just for him to hear. Shiro pulls away, sighing loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face.
"You're gonna be in so much trouble when I can feel my legs again," Shiro says. Contrary to his words, he stands up and pulls Keith with him. "The security downstairs has already called the police," Shiro tells Allura who nods at him.
"I'm having this entire building locked down," Allura says. "I don't know exactly who was involved -- if Sendak is part of this," she says, indicating the man on the floor, "then I have an idea of who may be behind this. But we'll have to take statements and examine as much as possible about what else might be here."
"A woman," Keith says, drawing everyone's attention. "Earlier, he was talking to someone, while they thought I was still unconscious. It sounded like an older woman. She said you trusted her, Princess Allura."
"Haggar," the man with the mustache says, looking sharply at Allura, who scowls. "She's been involving herself more and more in the discussions about Galra," Coran adds. "It makes sense."
"I should have known," Allura says, almost to herself. "That it would be her. She's always been hovering on the edges, she's made no pretenses about her feelings about the sanctions--"
"Allura," Lance says, "Zarkon is involved too."
Her eyes widen in shock; her dark skin flushes, and her fists clench at her sides. "You're sure?" she says tightly. "Absolutely sure, Lance?"
"Not absolutely," Lance admits. "That's what we came here to confirm. But there was an email Pidge found that looks bad." He stands next to Keith and hovers at his side, one hand carefully touching his elbow. "Can we -- can we get them out of here? Keith needs to go to the hospital."
"I'm not hurt," Keith protests. "I don't need to go to the hospital."
"Your wrists and ankles are hurt, and you don't know what they used to knock you out," Lance argues. "You should get checked out at the very least--"
"Alright," Allura says loudly. "Lance, please accompany him to the hospital -- tell them you're there under my orders and take some of my security team with you to keep an eye on him. Shay, please stay with him. Hunk, you need to get this Pidge person here as soon as possible and you two will help me fill in the gaps of what happened here tonight, understood?"
"Yes, your majesty," Hunk says. Shay bows her head deeply and gestures to Lance, whose grip tightens on Keith.
"Shiro," Allura says, drawing his attention. She pushes her messy hair off of her forehead, and Keith realizes for the first time that she's wearing an overlarge t-shirt and mismatched socks; she must have gotten dressed in a hurry, but she looks regal enough to lead a war even with the large cartoon cats on her chest. "It was very nice to meet you," she says, smiling softly. "Thank you for contacting me. This might have turned out very differently."
Shiro smiles weakly back at her, gripping Keith’s shoulder tightly. "It was nice to meet you too, your majesty. Thank you, for making sure my brother is taken care of."
"I'll meet you all at the hospital later, I'm sure," Allura says. "There will be many, many questions. Keith, please get some rest and take care of Lance for me?"
Keith startles a little at her steady gaze, but nods. Lance tugs him slightly, and they head out of the room, past a dozen guards who are on radios or phones, who stare at them as they pass by but say nothing. Keith lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when they step into the darkness of night, breathing in the cool, fresh air. The moon is full in the sky, casting a pale light over the four of them.
There's already a dark vehicle out front waiting to pick them up, and Lance gets into it after Shay nods at him, gesturing for Keith to follow. Shiro crowds his other side, and Shay sits up front with the driver, murmuring instructions to him. Sitting down, Keith is suddenly overcome with exhaustion -- his head is aching faintly again, and the blood in his veins pulses hotly in his wrists.
"It's okay to rest," Lance says quietly. "I'll wake you up."
Keith wants to argue with him, but his eyes are already closing, and the last thing he's really aware of is Lance taking his hand with his own and squeezing softly.
Keith pours the steamed milk carefully, but it still won't form a heart. Pidge snorts, and he glares at them, scowling at the messy swirl in the middle of his espresso. "Weren't you inventing some sort of robot to do this for me?"
"It's good for you to learn how to do it yourself," Pidge says, unsympathetic.
It's another Wednesday, a few days after everything. Keith had been released from the hospital after a few hours of observation and straight into a police station to give his statement; Lance had stayed at his side the entire time, but he hadn't held his hand again. After Shiro had insisted on taking Keith home, as the sun was rising over the horizon in bright golds and oranges, Lance had smiled and told him, "I'll see you, Keith."
It had been four days since then, and Keith hadn't heard anything from Lance, or anyone else. Shiro had kept the shop closed on Saturday, both of them barely conscious at that point -- they'd slept the day away and then slept most of the night as well, waking up on Sunday. By that point, Shiro was ready for his explanation, and Keith haltingly spilled everything out that had happened, having to stop several times for Shiro to cover his face with his hands and breathe. Shiro had grounded him for the rest of summer, and then hugged him for a solid five minutes, and then made them mom's favorite chocolate chip cookies, the ones they only baked on special occasions.
Monday had meant answering questions from Nyma, who had apparently only heard bits and pieces from Shiro when told why the shop wasn't open on Saturday, and Pidge, who had apparently been simultaneously chastised and grudgingly praised for their technical skills by the security team who handled the building. Keith kept looking at his phone, waiting for something, anything -- a hello, an explanation, an emoji if Lance was unable to offer anything else. The media was reporting that there had been a break in at the Hall of Lions, and that there were several people in custody for questioning, but for the most part it seemed that things were locked down, and Pidge was explicitly forbidden from fanning the flames in online forums.
Keith waited all day and most of the night Monday, but there was nothing. Around midnight he hesitantly texted Lance (I hope you're okay) and then threw his phone across his bed and tried to sleep, finally drifting off around two in the morning.
"I'm sure things are just really busy," Nyma assured him the next morning, when his phone informed him that his message hadn't even been received. "Restructuring your government probably takes time."
"Lance isn't involved in any of that," Pidge says absently, toying with some kind of circuit board with a furrowed brow. "He's a student, remember?"
"Pidge," Nyma says through gritted teeth. "You're not helping."
"It's fine," Keith says shortly. "I'm sure he's just -- he's busy." Nyma makes a face but doesn't say anything, patting his shoulder gently. Keith tries to smile at her, but he's not sure if it comes out right.
Part of Keith wonders if Lance's parting words had just been an empty promise -- maybe Lance had realized just how different they were, how silly it was to try and involve himself with someone like Keith. It wasn't like they were -- it wasn't like they'd even been together. Lance didn't owe him anything, really, and Keith had been the one to pull away in the kitchen that one night, so it wasn't like Keith had been clear either.
Wednesday he woke up determined to put the whole thing, Lance included, out of his mind. All it was doing was robbing him of his sleep and the remainder of his summer break, limited as he was right now, considering all he was allowed to do was go between work and home, Shiro escorting him both ways.
He'd volunteered to learn how to actually make some of the drinks to pass the slow period of the morning, since all he knew were basics. Pidge had explained to him that most of the drinks were made up of the same three ingredients added in different orders, but part of him still hesitated picking ingredients. He'd accidentally added two different syrups to the same drink, two completely different flavors that made Nyma actually stick her tongue out in disgust when she'd finished swallowing, which had made Pidge laugh so hard they'd snorted.
They'd moved on to practicing the latte art again, since he pretty much knew how to make a latte at this point. Pidge had showed him different designs they'd been practicing, then showed him how to do the heart again, but he couldn't get it. He couldn't focus on getting the right amounts, too distracted by the sight of people passing in front of the shop, hoping despite himself to glimpse someone tall and dark, someone with a smile that lit up an entire room, someone--
"Keith," Pidge says, "You're spilling the milk."
Keith jerks and straightens the cup, but not in time to stop the milk from going all over the counter. Pidge grabs napkins quickly, but is unable to stop it from hitting the floor as well -- it splatters up the sides of the counter and all over Keith's shoes, hot enough still that he can feel it seeping through.
"Great," he says dejectedly. "Perfect."
"I'll grab the mop," Nyma says, flashing him a sympathetic look.
"It's fine," Keith says, "I made the mess, let me go grab it." Nyma frowns at him, but he doesn't linger to hear a response, pushing his way into the back. He closes his eyes in the hallway for a minute, telling himself to get it together, to stop acting this way. He'd barely known Lance -- it had been a bizarre two week relationship, if you could call it a relationship, and he shouldn't be drifting off in the middle of work just because someone wasn't texting him back.
It was so stupid. He'd never acted this way about anyone before. Lance isn't just anyone, his brain whispers at him.
He shakes his head roughly and strides to the cleaning closet, pulling a mop and bucket from it and heading to the kitchen to fill it. He tells himself to just get through the day -- he should be able to get through a day without acting like an idiot in front of his friends over some guy.
The bucket sloshes as he carries it carefully back down the hallway, and when he opens the door, it's to Nyma saying coldly, "What are you doing here?"
He looks up from the bucket to see Lance standing there, slightly flushed, without his hat or sunglasses or anything. There are half a dozen other people in the shop right now, who are staring wide eyed at him, whispering to the person closest to them, but Lance pays them no mind. Shay and Hunk are nowhere to be seen.
The bucket drops out of Keith's hand, thankfully only spilling a little bit over the edges, but drawing Lance's attention immediately.
"Keith," Lance says. "Hey."
He winces almost as soon as it's out of his mouth, but Nyma repeats, "Hey? " anyways, sounding outraged. "Are you serious? You couldn't even text him back but you show up out of the blue and say--"
"Nyma," Keith says quietly, "It's fine."
"Keith," Pidge says, "Do you wanna--"
"Yeah," Keith replies. He gestures for Lance to follow him, because doing this in front of six strangers is the last thing he wants. Lance hesitantly follows him, giving Nyma a wide berth, until they're standing in the same hallway they had the conversation about who Lance really was in almost two weeks ago. Keith hadn’t known anything about Lance then, and now he knows Lance’s favorite ice cream flavor, the song his mother used to sing when she cooked dinner, what he looks like when he’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe. It’s still not enough.
Keith leans against the wall, grounding himself, and says, "I'm glad you're okay."
Lance makes a frustrated noise, stepping a little closer. "I tried to -- Keith, I promise I tried to contact you. They confiscated our phones, and we weren't allowed to leave while they figured out who was involved with Zarkon and his people, but I asked them to send you a message -- I didn't find out until today that they'd never delivered it, I swear."
Keith feels his lungs expand and then contract in his chest. Every part of his body feels particularly singular right now, like he's too big for his own skin. He doesn't think he's ever felt this nervous. "Okay," he says.
He looks at Lance properly for the first time, noticing his rumpled clothing, the dark circles under his eyes, the way he can't seem to settle properly, shifting from side to side. Lance looks exhausted, like he hasn't slept at all since that night.
He makes that agitated noise again, reaching out and grabbing Keith's hand. "You're okay, right? Allura had people watching your house the whole weekend, but we think we've figured out everyone who was involved in the coup, so you should be okay now."
"We're okay," Keith says. "Although I'm grounded until college."
Lance stares at him for a long moment and then laughs. "Me too," he admits, running his free hand through his hair. "I snuck out again, Shay and Hunk are covering for me. I just -- I couldn't not talk to you."
Keith's heart thumps painfully in his chest. "You didn't have to do that, I know you've got more important things to do--"
"Keith," Lance interrupts, looking deeply at him, "You're important." His voice is steady, even as he flushes a deeper red; Keith's own face feels like it's on fire.
"Oh," Keith says, because he can't think of anything to say.
"I know that I'm -- I know we're different," Lance continues, squeezing his hand, flustered. "And I know I almost got you killed, and I know that we haven't known each other long, and your brother probably hates me, and your friends definitely hate me, but -- but I really like you."
The words fall thinly into the hallway, and in the silence after them, Keith can just barely hear the plinky piano coming from the speakers in the shop as a woman croons about her long lost love. Lance's chest rises and falls rapidly, like he's run a marathon -- Keith's own pulse is similarly quick, and for a moment he can't think of anything to say because all he can think is, embarrassingly enough, he likes me?
"I--" Keith says, stumbling, "I mean I -- me too." He visibly winces at how weak his voice is, but Lance squeezes his hands tightly and smiles at him.
"Really?" Lance asks, "Because I know it's a lot. All of it, all of me. We wouldn't be normal, there's always going to be at least one other person with us, and I've got loads of fancy parties I have to attend, and one day I'm going to have to travel around a lot--"
"If I were a writer, I could write anywhere," Keith says. Lance's mouth closes audibly and he stares at Keith. Keith stares back unblinkingly.
"Can I kiss you?" Lance asks haltingly, and abruptly, Keith is tired of tiptoeing, of being cautious. This is Lance, the kid in sunglasses who chews his pens, the guy who teases him about his choice in books, who stays up late texting him about his favorite pets growing up. He's the same person Keith has known all along, who Keith has liked all along, and it was a mistake not to kiss him when he had the chance before. Keith doesn't plan on making the same mistake twice.
"Yes," Keith says, but instead of waiting, he grabs hold of Lance's shirt and tugs him down, pressing their lips together. Their noses bump, which hurts, but Lance is smiling into the kiss anyways; Keith can feel it, and he takes that as his cue to deepen the kiss. Lance presses against him until his back hits the wall, and then Lance's hand is sliding into his hair, curling around his jaw, and the kiss is stretching on and on and on, until Keith feels dizzy and flushed and has to swallow his giddy laughter.
Someone coughs, and Keith's head knocks against the wall roughly as he pulls away from Lance. Their heads both jerk around to see Shiro standing outside of his office, arms crossed and unsmiling. Lance's hands drop away from him immediately and he stands up straight, fixing his shirt where Keith had been clutching it and awkwardly smoothing his hair. His mouth is still red, though, and Keith is transfixed until Shiro says, "Good morning, your highness."
"Lance," Lance says, mortified. "It's just Lance, hello again, nice to meet you, sorry for--"
"Shiro," Keith says firmly, saving Lance from an early grave, "This is my new boyfriend. His name is Lance."
Shiro frowns at him for a long moment, and Keith tries to convey every ounce of emotion he can to his brother, calling on every silent conversation they've ever had to get his meaning across. Shiro raises his eyebrows and then sighs, resigned.
"It's nice to meet you, Lance. Keith is very grounded right now, but I'm sure we can work something out," Shiro says dryly. "Maybe."
"Thank you," Lance chokes out.
"Keith, you should head back up front," Shiro says. "Please fix your hair though." He gives Keith a pointed look and then heads back into his office, although Keith is sure he's listening at the door still.
Keith scowls at his brother but runs his hands through his hair quickly, glancing at Lance. "Are you gonna be okay to go back out there? I think some people recognized you."
"I'll call Hunk to come get me," Lance says, pulling his phone out and tapping at it. It's a different phone, an older cheap model, and after a few long minutes fussing with the keyboard, he manages to type the message out. "Shay found us some old burner phones to use while ours are confiscated. I would have texted you with this, but I didn't remember your number, and I thought you knew what was going on." He grimaces. "I should have known Coran would be too cautious to actually let stuff go out of the palace."
"It's fine," Keith assures him. "It was only a few days."
"After a kidnapping and a rescue attempt that was taken over by my cousin, actual future ruler of the country, a few days is too long," Lance says. "The only thing I can say is I doubt anything like that will happen again. No promises though."
Keith nudges him, and Lance nudges him back playfully. He keep glancing at Keith's lips, and Keith really wants to see just how long they can kiss before Shiro inevitably comes back out and rushes them along again, but he probably shouldn't push it right away, because he's already thinking of how to get Shiro to agree to invite Lance over to the house again.
"We can head out front," Lance says. "It should be okay for a few minutes. Plus, I think I'll be showing up here quite a lot in the future, and I don't want to keep wearing disguises every time I come see my boyfriend."
"Don't say a word," Keith tells him firmly. "I saved your ass back there."
"True," Lance says. He grabs hold of Keith's hand and raises it, smoothly planting a kiss on his knuckles. "How can I make us even?"
"Make sure I don't embarrass myself in front of the new queen of my country next time I see her," Keith tells him, pushing the front door open.
"Done," Lance says, winking at him. "She actually asked about you a few times. It was really sweet, she's usually never interested in the guys I talk about."
Keith opens his mouth to say something back but is interrupted by Pidge saying, "What took you so long?"
Nyma snorts, looking them both up and down, and says, "I can take a guess."
"Gross," Pidge replies. Keith lets go of Lance's hand to flip them the bird, only belatedly realizing that the rest of the people in the shop are still staring at them. Lance ducks his head a little and smiles at them, and the whispers break out again.
"Someone came up and asked if you were the prince," Nyma says, "and I told them you weren't cute enough to be the prince."
"Ouch," Lance says, clutching his heart, giving her a wounded look.
"Nyma, it's fine," Keith says, giving her a look. "Lance explained, we talked everything out."
"Did more than talk," Nyma says pointedly, and Keith resists the urge to try and flatten his hair more. "But okay, fine, I'll back off. But if you make Keith mopey again I don't want Shay to come after me because you'll have earned it."
"Agreed," Lance says. "Speaking of, Hunk will be here soon, and I'll have to try and sneak back into the palace before someone notices Shay is guarding an empty room."
"Here," Keith says, grabbing a napkin and a pen from next to the register, scribbling his number onto it. "So you'll have it now."
Lance tucks it carefully into his pocket, beaming at Keith. "I'll memorize it this time."
"Just text me, idiot," Keith says fondly. A car pulls up out front, the same black as all the others, and Hunk rolls down the window and gestures hurriedly at them through the glass.
"Guess that's me," Lance says, waving back. He looks down at Keith and hesitates, then drops a kiss onto Keith's lips quickly and heads around the counter, running out the door. "I'll text you!" he calls back, jumping into the car and blowing Keith another kiss before it pulls away.
"Your face, Keith," Pidge says, snickering. Keith pulls his hand away from his mouth, realizing he'd unconsciously touched his lips.
"Get used to this, Pidge," Nyma says dryly. "I have a feeling these two are gonna make this a long summer."
"Yep," Keith says unapologetically, even though deep down, he's planning to make it much, much longer than just a summer. He turns to Pidge and gestures to the espresso machine and grabs a fresh cup. "Let me try one more time, Pidge."
That night, when Lance texts him from the new phone, the first thing Keith sends him is a picture of a latte with a slightly lopsided but still recognizable heart. Lance immediately calls him, and Keith picks up just as quickly, already smiling.