Chapter Text
“Pidge I don’t know what to do,”
“Hit me with it,”
Keith would adamantly deny till the end of his days that he made an actual whining sound down the phone, but that would be a lie. He totally did.
“They’ve been arguing so much recently it’s…it’s actually freaking me out,” he said in low tones, hoping his boyfriend wouldn’t be able to hear him through the wall. He doubted it. Lance was still on the phone; Keith could hear the heated mix of Spanish with the occasional English curse drift through the closed door. It drifted closer, then farther away and Keith realised he must be pacing.
“Who? Lance” Pidge asked. Keith almost nodded before realising his mistake.
“Yeah, with his sister. She calls often enough but recently it’s just escalated to arguing and I don’t even know what they’re fucking saying half the time!” Keith clutched the phone
so tight he could have sworn he heard it creak.
“Dude, chill. I can hear your brain running to those conclusions,” Pidge interjects. Keith sighs.
“I know it’s just…”
“Look I understand Keith. I get why it’s freaking you out, Lance is literally shouting in the room over and with your…experiences, I totally get why you’re so on edge,”
Pidge sounds so concerned and Keith feels equal parts grateful and ashamed. He begins to drum his fingers lightly along the bare skin of his leg; he’s perched cross legged on the edge of his and Lance’s bed Lance’s jacket draped across his shoulders like a particularly drab dressing gown. The fabric of Lance’s oversized T-shirt feels soft against his skin and there’s a hole in his sock; he can feel it as he rubs his feet along the carpet.
“Have you tried…talking to him about it?” Pidge asks gently.
“No, not yet. It’s…it’s embarrassing Pidge, I should be over this by now it’s been so many years since you know…everything,” Keith’s voice sounds small even to him. He’s stopped drumming, his fingers now rubbing the fabric of his boxers. They’re red, slightly faded and covered in tiny cat faces. A prank gift from Lance.
“No, Keith that’s so…god I wish I could hug you right now but seriously what you went through when you were younger takes time to heal from. No one thinks of you any less Keith, like I said it’s healing not ‘getting over’ it. We just want you happy,” Pidge’s voice is soothing; Keith can almost ignore the automatic flinch his body makes as Lance’s voice hits a particularly loud angry note. Almost. His fingers curl into his thigh, his nails lightly scraping the skin.
“Okay I’ll talk to him,”
“You need to Keith, seriously. This is going to kill him you know, that he’s made you associate him with…urgh, he’s going to feel so guilty,” Pidge sighs. Keith groans. Of course it’s going to kill his boyfriend to hear he’d inadvertently brought back childhood memories of abuse. Lance had a protective streak a mile wide and though Keith pretended to be exasperated, he secretly loved it.
Being loved was such a beautiful sensation and he was secretly greedy for each loving and thoughtful gesture given to him. They’d been together three years, but feeling loved was still so new and alien.
“I don’t want him to feel guilty! I just want him to…” there’s a pause as Keith considers his words.
“Be more aware?” Pidge suggests. Keith hums in agreement.
“Yeah. I’ll talk to him I’ve just been putting it off because I know how guilty he’ll feel and he’s not even doing anything wrong! If anything is wrong it’s me,” Keith’s voice trails to a whisper. There’s a brief silence.
“Keith you’re not wrong. You could never be wrong. You’re Keith. You’re stubborn and hard-headed and carry your pocket knife in your left boot for some reason, even after the time you stabbed yourself in the foot with said pocket knife. You wear the same jacket all year round, and text me conspiracy theories at three in the fucking morning the night before an exam, but there is not a single thing I would change about you. You’re the bravest person I know,”
Pidge’s voice leaves no room for argument and Keith smiles, a warmth spreading through him.
“Thanks Pidge,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes with the back of his gloves. He burrows deeper into Lance’s jacket, weighing his options.
“I kind of want to do it now, get it out the way. I’m also kind of interested in what they’re arguing about,”
“Wait, you don’t know?”
“I don’t speak Spanish very well. I tried, early when we started dating and Lance even tried learning some Korean, but we both kind of sucked,”
“Dude, as long as it’s not something super private you have to let me know what he’s shouting about; in all the time I’ve known Lance I have seen him get legitimately angry precisely five times. I mean he’s indignant about five times a day but a truly angry Lance is a rarity,” Pidge muses.
“Five times? I’ve only seen it the once…well until now. He’s never done anything like this before to be honest,” Keith begins to shuffle back, stopping when he reaches the middle of the bed. He crosses his legs.
“Hmm think about it Keith. I’ve known him a lot longer than you and as far as Lance rage-fests go you’ve been there for a quarter of the occasions and the reason for three of them,” Pidge replies. Keith briefly feels his heart enter his throat.
“…where are you going with this?” Keith asks cautiously.
“ No, no I don’t mean he’s like…angry at you,” she back peddles “I’m saying it’s similar to that one time you saw him get angry,” she responds impishly. Keith is almost embarrassed at how relieved he feels.
“Wait, what? You mean he’s done that more than once? That time was bad enough Pidge seriously,” Keith groans. Pidge giggles.
“He was defending your honour Keith,” she mocks.
“Nope. Never happened,”
“Oh really? Should I text Hunk? I’m pretty sure I remember him being there. And hey, wasn’t Shiro there? I’m sure he can give us a blow by blow account. Allura may even have video evidence” Keith can hear the grin in her voice.
“Don’t you dare,” he warns.
“Hey I’m just kidding. But you gotta admit it was pretty sweet how defensive he got,”
Keith can feel his face heat up just thinking about it. He doesn’t ever find out what the guy had said about him, just remembers the way Lance’s face switched. He’d never seen his boyfriend look so serious but it was only for a split second before it had morphed into rage.
Keith remembered his heart dropping into his stomach because what had he done, why was Lance mad, oh god he’d fucked up, fuck, fuck, and there was there that instinctive fear in the face of anger, survival instincts aching to kick in because oh god I don’t want to get hurt… and then Lance literally launched himself into to space of the guy standing just off to their right at the bar and Keith could hear snippets of ‘what the fuck did you just say?’ And ‘I swear if you even so much as look at him’. He heard slices of ‘Lance you need to step back’ and could have sworn he heard a ‘did you hear what he fucking said about him Shiro? This guy’s lucky I’m not ripping his dick off’.
Before he knew it Keith was…well he was really fucking embarrassed. And angry at that guy, because fuck that guy. He was also floating. Mainly floating. He remembers feeling so warm and uncertain in himself, and he wanted to say something to Lance, that he could fight his own battles (it’s what he was used to), he didn’t need anyone else defending him (he’d never had anyone else) but Lance had turned to him eyes full of concern, face fond, smile so so beautiful as he’d asked ‘you okay babe?’ and Keith…Keith gave in. He felt loved. Wanted. Safe. God he loved this man.
Keith smiles remembering it. He’s aware the silence has probably dragged too long and hastily clears his throat.
“Yeah, he was,”
Lance is still on the phone. Keith can hear his pacing and the muffled anger. He sighs.
“I might do it now Pidge, I can’t stand waiting,”
“Up to you dude but isn’t he still, you know, on the phone arguing?”
“Well yeah but maybe I can, I don’t know, interrupt?” he says, the lilt at the end making it sound more like a question. Pidge’s voice is flat.
“Interrupt,”
“Well yeah, I just…I don’t want to lose my nerve,” Keith says, running his hand over his face. At this point he’s flat out on his bed, his toes curling in distress. The hole in his sock has probably tripled in size.
“I guess so. Maybe just walk in and try talking to him?” Pidge suggests. She doesn’t sound hopeful.
“But what if he just…keeps arguing? Will he even hear me? He’s pretty loud. God pidge what if he hears me and carries on arguing anyway? What would I even do?” even Keith can hear the panic in his voice.
“Look I doubt he’d do that Keith, and let say he did all you’d need to do is like, fake faint and he’d stop pretty much instantly,”
“…what?” he asks, confusion clear in his voice.
“Yup. Walk in there and give it your best swoon, proper ham it up like in the movies.” Keith’s mind is briefly bombarded with images of fainting women in corsets and for some reason Lance riding bareback on a horse. “Lance won’t be able to resist running to your aid like some valiant knight and for fuck sake Keith do you seriously think he will just ignore you?”
The sudden change in tone makes Keith’s head spin.
“What?”
“I wasn’t being serious Keith…oh god did you think I was…oh Keith,” Pidge dissolves into giggles, and Keith can’t help the quiet laughter that escapes him. Pidge coughs and Keith can imagine she’s wiping an imaginary tear from her eye.
“Trust me Keith Lance wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t just ignore you if you started speaking to him,” she reassures.
“Yeah I know,” he concedes. Damn his brain, always jumping to the absolute worst case scenario. Lance is late home from work? Oh he must be dead. Shiro hasn’t replied to a text? Oh he must hate him.
“Anyway I need to go dude, make sure you tell me everything that he says…you know, providing it’s not deadly per…sonal,” Pidge says, her voice cracking as she yawns. Keith glances at his phone; it’s 1am.
“Right. Thanks for the talk Pidge, you’re literally the greatest,” he replies softly.
“I know. Night dude,”
“Night,”
He ends the call, curling onto his side. He listens, no longer hearing Lance’s voice; the soft hum of the shower is coming from the bathroom along with the odd muffled lyric or hum. Keith grins. Lance was so cute.
Keith listens as the shower stops and a few minutes later the humming drifts closer and closer until the door glides open and Lance walks in. He’s gently towel drying his hair, another wrapped haphazardly around his waist. His face is coated evenly in one of his face masks and despite how ridiculous he looks, Keith still feels his heart speed up. Lance stops humming and finally looks at Keith.
“Hey beautiful,” he grins. Keith snorts.
“Says you,” he retorts. Lance winks.
“I do,” he says, giving his hair one last gentle rub before depositing the towel over the top of the door to dry. Keith rolls onto his stomach and wiggles towards the end of the bed. Lance sits down next to him, towel barely clinging to his hips, and gently threads a hand through Keith’s hair.
Keith debates starting the conversation about the arguments, but one quick glance at Lance’s soft expression has him biting his tongue.
“How was Hunk?” he asks instead “I forgot to ask earlier,”
“Hunk’s great,” Lance begins, his face lighting up “he says you definitely need to come see the flat when you’re not working, but seriously it’s gorgeous. Dead classy, just like Hunk,”
“He definitely is,” Keith nods, almost sagely “a man amongst moles,”
“Babe I’m not sure that’s how that…you know what never mind, wait here one sec,”
Lance leans over dropping a gentle kiss to Keith’s forehead, mindful of his face mask, before hopping up and striding out the room.
He returns moments later, his phone proudly displaying a photo of the new flat.
“Tada!” he cries, flinging himself back into position on the bed. Keith takes the phone and immediately begins swiping and zooming in on various photos.
“You weren’t lying, this is nice. Was Shay there today?” Keith asks, handing the phone back to Lance when he begins making grabby hands. He watches as Lance flicks through a dozen more photos before showing him the screen.
“This answer your question?”
It’s Hunk, the tall man’s arm wrapped proudly round his even taller girlfriend. They’re grinning widely and posed in front of what Keith guesses is Hunk’s new balcony. Keith raises a brow.
“Did you make them do a photoshoot?” he queries. Lance’s answer is to flick through more photos, each photo getting more staged and ridiculous until it’s literally just Hunk laughing, eating a bowl of salad.
“Really Lance. You memed him on your first official visit?” and Keith can’t help the smile breaking out across his face. Lance looks at him proudly.
“He said, and I quote, ‘not in front of my salad’,”
“…no he didn’t,”
“You’re right, he didn’t, but how great would it have been if he did?” Lance laughs, momentarily forgetting his face mask and rubbing his nose. He looks at his hand, a now slightly disgruntled expression on his face.
“I forgot about this, better wash it off,” and Keith watches as he stands, the muscles of his back rippling lightly with the movement.
Keith watched as the other man exited, listened to the faint sound of the tap and subsequent splashing. He chewed his lip lightly, his fingers beginning a steady thrum across the blankets. Should he mention it tonight? Or would it be better tomorrow?
As he lay there, half an hour later, his face pushed firmly into the crook of Lance’s neck and his boyfriend’s arm wrapped securely round his shoulder he decided it could wait. He felt too safe, too warm to break the soft atmosphere. Besides, he could tell Lance was nearly asleep; his breathing had become lighter, a gentle snore beginning to form. Keith just nuzzled in closer, closed his eyes and breathed in his boyfriend’s calming scent. Tomorrow. He’d mention it tomorrow.
His leg would not stop shaking. Keith was perched on the stool closest to the kitchen counter listening to Lance describe the latest thing Lotor had done at work to offend and aggravate him and as much as he enjoyed listening to his boyfriend bitch (he really did, it was always incredibly amusing) he couldn’t concentrate. He’d spent his whole day tense and irritated, terrified he’d drop something. Shiro had repeatedly asked if he was okay and he’d almost begun to regret agreeing to help out at the café .
He’d just been unable to stop playing each worst case scenario through his head. He didn’t want to make Lance feel bad or guilty, just aware and his heart clenched when he considered how responsible his boyfriend may feel. Not to mention how embarrassing it was. Here he was, twenty three years old and still not over his childhood trauma.
It was hard enough initially explaining to Lance the gist of his childhood and just seeing his boyfriend’s expression break. He’d wrapped him in his arms and whispered to him 'you’re safe now baby' and 'thank you for telling me' he may even remember him saying 'I won’t let anyone hurt you again Keith'. It was hard thinking of how Lance may feel realising he’d inadvertently hurt him, and Keith had spent the whole day ruminating.
Shiro’s probing hadn’t helped; he knew his brother had his best interests at heart but today he could have done with the distraction and monotony that helping in the café was supposed to give. Instead his anxiety had steadily increased throughout the day until he was sure that Lance would notice immediately how jittery he was; as it turned out his boyfriend was equally distracted and frustrated by the events at his work and hadn’t yet noticed that Keith was practically vibrating with nervous energy.
“…so I told him that it was too much fabric, he knows that it’s calculated a set way and any leftover mean that we get charged, but he made me put the order though anyway and guess who gets called up about this!?”
Lance is pacing, swinging his arms wildly as he described his colleagues misdeeds; the lack of partition between kitchen and spacious living room means he’s just sort of wandering between the two rooms, walking round the coffee table then back through to the kitchen. Keith gnaws his lip wondering if now would be a good time to interrupt.
“Lance can…”
“He’s unbelievable I honestly can’t understand why he’s still working this department he’s fucked up so many times, and he has the audacity to look me in the face and criticise my work..”
“Lance can I just…” just as Lance looks up, finally hearing Keith’s interruption he hears the heavy vibrations of an incoming call. Lance sighs, reaching into his pocket.
“Sorry babe let me just,” his face immediately sours upon seeing the ID and Keith can feel his heart rate increase.
“I can’t believe she’s…” he hears him mutter, and the next second Lance has answered the call.
“If this is about what I think it is,” his voice is low and deadly. Keith’s breathe hitches slightly and he watches as Lance turns away, walking over to the other side of the living room, as though the distance will prevent Keith from being able to overhear.
“No…NO, we are not even discussing this, I can’t believe she’s put you up to this,” Lance’s voice steadily climbs in volume, as though matching Keith’s panic. He rises from the stool, walking closer to his boyfriend.
“Lance…”
“I understand she is upset but there is no chance that I am letting…I don’t care if he’s family Alex, I’ve explained this to Lia we are not coming,” Keith recognises the name of Lance’s sister and his sister’s partner.
He’s trying to concentrate on what Lance is saying, but his angry tone is still so distracting. Keith finds himself gripping his T-shirt, wringing the fabric between his hands.
“Put her on. No, I DON’T CARE, PUT MY SISTER ON THE PHONE NOW,” Lance is practically screaming into the phone at this point and Keith can’t help the flinch at the sudden increase in volume. He’s slightly aware that he’s shaking, quivering gently where he stands.
“Lance,” he says, tries to sound firm.
“In a minute Keith,” Lance replies, his voice terse. He’s still facing away. Keith tried to remind himself that it is nothing personal, that Lance was angry at his sister and partner not him, but his brain was working rapidly, making quick fire connections and all Keith could feel was guilt and nausea. What did I do, what did I do?
“Lia…NO…” and then Lance is breaking off into Spanish. Keith catches the odd word, he swears he hears homofóbico and his own name a few time, but it’s angry enunciation of each word, the aggressive stance that put him on edge. He takes a deep breathe, steeling himself.
“Lance,” it’s louder than the first time, sounding confident though he felt anything but. Lance pauses mid word and turns slightly, frustration practically dancing across his face.
“Later Keith I’m on the phone,”
His tone is clipped and unlike anything he’d heard in a long time. Admittedly they’d had…disagreements when first meeting, but as soon as they’d became friendly there’d been nothing but warmth. Even when they’d argued it felt different, perhaps as Keith felt like he was on equal footing. Here Keith felt as though the floor had been completely ripped away and he was panicking.
What did he do, what did he do? Lance wasn’t stopping he was…what had Pidge said to do? She’d gave advice what did she say?
Panicked Keith felt the conversation flicked before him.
“…all you’d need to do is like, fake faint and he’d stop pretty much instantly”
Nope. Nope that wasn't helpful. Except it was all his mind could focus on right now, she’d said not to do it immediately after but fuck Keith was panicking. Could it work? How would he even do it?
“…I don’t CARE if she’s upset, you put her back on the phone right NOW Alex….FUCK YOU, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE SUGGESTING,”
The sudden switch to English seized Keith’s attention. His palms were sweating and he felt his pulse in his throat and FUCK IT he was doing it, he needed the shouting to stop and he needed it to stop NOW.
Keith forced himself to relax his muscles and closed his eyes, letting his body fall whichever way it pleased. The urge to step out and catch himself was strong, but he ignored it.
It was only mid fall that he realised he probably should have stood further away from the coffee table and hey maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after….
THUD.