Chapter Text
Luck never was on Lance’s side.
Standing in the middle of a creepy, worn out, maybe serial-killer induced gas station wasn’t exactly what Lance had in mind when he had the sudden urge for a cherry-flavored slurpee this morning.
Not only that, to his utmost degree of luck, his car had broken down, and his keys fell into the sewer when he tried to fish them out of his back pocket thinking he looked cool in front of these hot chicks in a convertible; so, of course, he had to throw them up in the air watching them (the keys) slip down perfectly between a slit of iron.
Channeling his feelings towards the sad-looking gas station, Lance felt utterly and completely stumped. What was he supposed to do now, now that his keys were lost at polluted sea, and his slurpee almost drunk; wallet scraped bare and hair losing its signature bounce. He sighed. Because in situations like this, you just needed a good ol’ fashioned sigh. A really long one, one that exhaled all of his woes and sorrows of unluckiness.
Then that sigh turned into a good ol’ painful groan. Nice and loud. For the whole world to hear him. All of the two people now filling gas, the cashier in the window staring all weirdly at Lance, not feeling sorry for him at all; no one was feeling sorry for him to point that out, this was all because he had no good, dirty, rotten luck.
Stinky, stupid, putrid, old, dirty, dirty rotten luck. And it all belonged to Lance, every single ounce of it, till the very last drop had fallen. He held it all inside of him, and he could never let it go. Peas in a pod, him and his luck. Kind of like him and his twin sister, Rachel, but the luck was more amicable to him than her. He couldn’t go anywhere unless his luck rammed him over with today’s fiasco, which always promised to include him on the ride.
Sandwiched between the two cars drinking up their fuel, Lance sourly put his hands on his hips, scoping out the deserted road. Quiet. A little too quiet, all of it. He hated the quiet so much he felt like screaming.
Speaking of screaming, a hissing screech scratched out of him once a shiny, red car pulled in brusquely like it came from a Fast and the Furious set almost ramming Lance over with its front. The car hit the brakes stopping a breath’s space away from Lance’s feet, his sneakers barely being covered in cement dust blown by the speed of the car.
Luck, as said, never was on Lance’s side.
Twiddling his hair back into place, Lance shot his gaze up when he caught hold to whom the car belonged to. No need to look twice, Lance would recognize that mullet anywhere. Not only that, the red tone and the shininess of the luxurious car was enough to make it clear that this car belonged to the one and only: Keith Kogane.
Everyone’s sweetheart, Keith Kogane; the golden boy, the nice guy, mister the right man at the right time, the one with all the dimples. Gah. Keith freaking Kogane. That’s what he went by at their high school, but Lance knew that his real name was Keith Jonathan Kogane. How did he know? Don’t ask. Keith Kogane was a touchy subject to Lance.
“Oh shit!” Lance heard Keith shout over the radio he had blasting music from in his shiny, red car. He opened the door in a haste, looking all kinds of high school sweetheart. And by high school sweetheart, Lance meant his personality, because the boy dressed purely as a future punk rocker, and yeah, Lance lived for it. But, so did everyone else.
Keith was wearing his signature tight black, ripped skinny jeans, the ones with the large holes on his knees and rips made by key-teeth along his thighs. His quite muscular looking thighs. Lance had to slap himself silly sometimes to remind himself not to flaunt his disaster bi-ness—his secretive disaster bi-ness—to the entire world. Especially not in front of Keith.
Not that he would have noticed anyways.
“Hey, man. I didn’t see you there. I could have run you over…” Keith stopped yammering at Lance when he took in Lance’s face; his expression, one made from pure shock.
Keith Kogane was looking at Lance. Keith mother-effing Kogane was looking right at Lance.
This ladies and gents and non-binary queers.
This was a first.
What the hell is happening today?
Keith’s car rumbled to a silent, purring kitty. “You go to my school, right? Altea High?” Keith pointed a finger at Lance as he leaned a strong, leather-cladded arm over the ledge of his stunning red-hot convertible. Lance looked down and saw Keith was wearing those leather, fingerless gloves he never took off. No one knew if he was hiding something underneath, because he just never took them off. Seriously, someone had even gone as far as writing their own lore behind the fingerless leather gloves of Keith Kogane on Tumblr.
“Hey man, you’re looking a little pale there? Want me to fetch you some water?” Keith said, plastering his cheeky, white-blinding smile. His famous dimple peeked through wanting to say hi.
Not the dimple.
Sirens screamed in Lance’s head. Abort! Abort!
However, Lance was known to always cause some kind of mayhem without thinking.
Exhibit A:
Brainlessly, Lance re-planted two hands on his hips, leaning forward so that Keith Kogane could get a really good look at his face. His extremely sweaty face now that he noticed Keith’s deep, dark eyes that almost sparkled purple under the sun. Shit. Sirens going off again. Abort!!!
“I don’t need water… I’m not a dog.” Lance cringed because he never knew when to shut up.
Keith’s pretty, purple eyes darted away from Lance’s cringing. “Okay. Sorry I treated you like a… dog.” A small chuckle escaped him.
“You’re laughing?” Lance boasted, incredulous that Keith Kogane could actually crack a joke.
His chuckle slid into a new cheeky grin. He waved his gloved hand in the air as if he didn't know what to say to that? “I don’t know what else to do man. I was trying to be nice. You were looking a little parched, and really hot.”
“Hot?” Lance repeated, his eyes going wide.
“Yeah,” murmured Keith, his thick, black brows peered upwards to the sky. “The sun’s been cooking up pretty hot today. Although, it is the end of May, so no wonder it’s getting really hot outside.” His smile elongated; genuine but also a little concerned. “So, water?”
Lance’s breathing turned rigid. Okay, so Keith Kogane wanted to get water. Wanted to get him water. How did one respond to something like that?
Just say yes?
“No!”
Keith furrowed his brows. “No?”
“Oh shit!” screeched Lance. “I didn’t mean to say no to you.”
Looking amused, Keith crossed his arms. Have mercy, his biceps were building like mountain tops by the crossing. Yikes. “Then who were you saying no to?” he challenged.
It was odd. Seeing this side of Keith Kogane. Because at Altea, their high school, he didn’t do things like this. Usually, he was chatty with happy smiles, reserved with his hands placed in his back pockets. Keith Kogane, in Lance’s head, was never abrasive. Nor was he sharp. But boy was he being sharp with Lance now.
The nerve.
To be fair, Lance didn’t like Keith. Sure, he was hot. Like, put him in some scorching magma and he’d come out looking hotter than ever, but Keith was—ugh, how did Lance ever explain the real Keith. The Keith Kogane that… ignored him? That left him when he really needed help? Nope, not going there again.
The thing was that Lance just really hated Keith.
Erasing the past for the meantime, Lance waved off Keith’s offer. “It’s fine. I have water in my car.” Lance made a new cringe.
“What is it now?” Keith said, but sincerely.
Lance pointed to the sewer next to his blue mini cooper. “Funny story—”
“Oh, so now I can laugh?” Keith interjected.
Lance made a mocking grin. “Haha, no. Funny story …” he repeated, “I sort of lost my keys in that… that sewer.”
Keith’s eyes wandered to said sewer. His lips jerked.
“Don’t laugh,” challenged Lance with slitted eyes.
“I’m not…” Keith swallowed audibly, but his lips betrayed him into a loopy smile. “How about… I give you a ride home? You can call a tow truck to get your car and call the dealership where you bought your car to send you a new pair of keys.”
“God, my mom’s gonna kill me,” said Lance, throwing his hands into his now unruly hair. “I just got this car for my 16th birthday! You don’t get it. I’ve been begging my parents to get me this specific car and promised them that I’d be super responsible, and now—” He was hyperventilating.
A car door shut loudly and suddenly Lance felt a pair of hands cradling his shoulders. “Hey man, you gotta breathe. Follow my voice. Breathe in—deeply.” Keith made an audible inhale so that Lance could follow his lead.
Lance breathed in deeply, stifling the sucked-in air in his lungs thinking about how stupid Keith Kogane—ridiculously hot Keith Kogane—was touching him. He needed to remember that he hated the guy. But— no, no buts dammit!
“And out,” said Keith in an even, easing voice, breathing out slowly along with Lance. “That’s a good boy.”
Lance slid his blue eyes towards Keith’s purple ones, shimmering like an atmospheric eye-shadow palette. “You said that one on purpose, didn’t you?” He couldn’t contain it, but he chuckled and startled Keith when he made a small bark in his fair, blemish-free face.
The sun broiled as they both shared an unexpected, but also nice, laugh. “I’m sorry, man. I had to, it was waiting for me.” Keith held up a finger at Lance. “Just… wait right there.” He left without any further information, scampering towards the entrance to the gas station.
Two doors automatically slid open, welcoming Keith Kogane into the store. Then he was gone and Lance could finally breathe properly again.
Panicking, Lance paced back and forth between him and Keith’s cars. He muttered under his breath while smacking his head, “Stupid Lance. Stupid. Stupid. You can’t hitch a ride with Keith Kogane . Remember what he did to you forever ago? Or what he didn’t do.” Lance released a winded sigh of frustration, zippering up to his height and shutting up when he caught Keith running back out of the store with that smile on his face again and… a water bottle in his hand.
“Here man, you still need some hydration in you. It’s so freaking hot out.” Keith pushed the water bottle into Lance’s hands.
He took the water bottle with no complaint, but that went to show when one of his brows cocked up judgmentally.
Keith read his expression. “What's with the face?”
Lance shook his head then pushed a palm on Keith’s leather jacket. Which by the by scorched the flat side of Lance’s hand. He threw his hand back, waving it around in the air. “What the hell! No wonder you’re hot! Look what you’re wearing. The jacket needs to go, my good man.”
Another cheeky grin snuck its way to Lance’s jittery nerves and Keith started unzipping his leather jacket, shrugging it off then throwing it in the backseat of his car. He nodded at Lance. “Get in. I’m driving you home.”
“But?” said Lance.
“Come on,” urged Keith, opening up the passenger side door.
With a rearing gulp, Lance slipped into the passenger side of Keith’s red-hot convertible. Life buzzed from the car and My Chemical Romance blasted from the speakers.
“Helena,” pointed Lance out, nodding to the song and mouthing the lyrics, “good song.” He turned to look at Keith only to find him already staring at Lance.
Red tinged every cheek within their proximity. “Uhm.” Lance smacked his lips, daring to grip the stereo nozzle and turning the volume down. “Got any Panic! At the Disco?”
Keith smiled. “‘Course. Can’t be a real emo if we don’t have any Panic! on here.” He fiddled with his phone, the tension that had somehow slithered its way in, now gone. Keith pressed a button on his phone and Miss Jackson whispered its tune from the speakers now.
Silence encompassed the air around them and Lance didn’t know how to start a conversation with Altea’s sweetheart—the golden boy—without making a goddamn fool of himself, or being reminded of what agitated him about the guy.
They rode for a while, catching the cool wind in their faces. In Lance’s peripheral vision he spotted Keith’s longer cowlick whipping. A blush rose on Lance’s cheeks. Trying to hide his warm flush he angled his face to look out at the side of the road.
“...You go to my school, don’t you?”
Lance jumped when he felt a fist bump into his shoulder. “What?” he said, startled.
His eyes settled then onto Keith’s kind, although sharp features, noticing a faded white line streaking down his cheek. Drawing Lance’s attention away from the scar, Keith slipped through a soft grin. “You go to my school, right? Altea?”
For a second there Lance had started giving Keith Kogane the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he didn’t need to hate him anymore, but then the guy brings this up. A puckered brood stamped Lance’s expression. He looked away when he answered coolly, “Yeah, I go to Altea.” He leaned his elbow on the window frame and jutted his knuckles under his chin, peering at the blurring scenery passing by.
Taking the hint of Lance’s cold shoulder, he heard Keith mumble a barely audible okay and continued to drive towards Lance’s house without uttering a new word. Then a minute swept by and Lance felt his pocket vibrating.
“My sister,” he said, waving his phone at Keith’s nosy face. Phone smashed to his ear. “Yeah?”
“LANCE! Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be home by 4, and it’s… 4:35, did you decide to check out the guys on the football team again?” Lance flinched when he noticed Keith caught that last part amplifying from his phone’s speaker unit.
Shrugging off the embarrassing moment with a crass smile Lance yelled back, infuriated, “No, I didn’t. I went to the 1-2-3 because I was low on gas even though it’s your turn to fill her up this month, and then I… I lost my keys.”
Silence on the other end of the phone, then… “You for real now, baby bro?”
“I’m not a baby, Rachel,” Lance pointed out distastefully, “I’m 15 minutes younger than you.”
That brought out a small snicker from Keith. Ignoring what Lance didn’t want to think was cute, he angrily cut back to his annoying sister, “Listen, someone’s giving me a ride home right now, and just tell mom and dad that I parked my car at Hunk’s place and I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
“Who’s driving you home?” he heard Rachel ask, and he knew she was wearing her usual smug expression.
Lance recoiled hotly, “No one you know. Can you not tell mom and dad, please?”
Rachel dragged out a playful vowel. “You do know that I have a set of keys, too?”
Shit. That’s right. Lance threw a single praying hand to the heavens and mouthed a thank you , but that wasn’t without noticing Keith’s lips still pulled back into a small smile.
“Thank you, Rachel. Thank you—”
“Who is it?” she interjected, coyly. “I ain’t giving you my keys until you tell me who’s hitching you a ride.”
Lance bowed down to the glove compartment, not acting subtle at all next to Keith. He whispered, “Keith… Kogane.”
“The Keith Kogane!” she shouted back.
Guess hiding from Keith didn’t work. Lance rolled his eyes, prying his head away from Keith’s side-eyeing him, his smile still there, although somewhat more amused than before. “Yes. He obliged to give me a ride home, that’s it. No shut up and I’ll see you at home. Bye!”
Before Rachel could say something, Lance cut her off. He released a sigh, putting his phone back in his pocket. He and Keith caught eyes. Lance didn’t know where to look or what to say, so he said the first thing that popped up in his head. “Sisters, ammiright?”
Keith’s bushy, black brows furrowed. “Sure. I wouldn’t know, I only have a half-brother.”
“Shiro, right?” Lance remembered Keith’s older brother. He was five years older than them, and back in elementary school Shiro would always pick up Keith after school.
He didn’t want to pry or anything, but mentioning Keith’s older brother sort of created a gloomy tension in the car.
Maybe Keith didn’t want to talk about him.
“My sister has a spare set of keys,” Lance shot in quickly to divert the conversation of Keith’s brother. “No need to call the tow company or the dealership.”
“That’s great,” said Keith, staring at the road. His gloved hands were gripping the wheel tightly, the small smile that was on his face earlier substituted with a sorrowful drag. “This your place?”
They rounded a corner on 6th and a two story, gray house stood at the end of the street. Three cars were parked out on the double driveway; his parent’s, his older brother, Marco’s, and his older sister, Veronica’s, cars. The missing link, his (and Rachel’s) blue mini.
Keith killed the ignition, parking by the curb of Lance’s house. Yellowcard now playing in the background. What was with the early 2000’s punk-rock, thought Lance. Awkwardly, Lance pulled up his bright-blue, Jansport backpack, pointing to his house. “Uhm, thanks for the ride.” He tried to give Keith—Keith Kogane, mind you—his best toothy smile.
It was quiet for a few seconds, leaving Lance with question marks filling up the spaces of his brain. Not knowing what to do or to wait for any response, he started opening the car door.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”
Lance turned slightly, surprise washing over him. “My sister can drive me, dude. It’s okay,” he tried to explain. “My older sister, Veronica. She can… drive me.”
One leg had stepped out of the car, his black Vans touching the grass. But for some odd reason, Lance felt pulled to the car. To Keith. His blue eyes searched Keith.
“Please,” said Keith. “I… feel that I owe you… another ride?”
And an apology . But Lance knew Keith couldn’t have remembered that night. Both of Lance’s feet touched the grass now, raising up to his lanky height. He placed a hand over his forehead like a visor, the sun still scorching down on the Earth.
He stared at his house, at the cars parked in front of him. Why, why Keith , he thought to himself feeling disoriented, as if the world decided to jump into a parallel universe. A disheartened chuckle left his throat. “You don’t owe me anything, Keith. If anything, you just did me a huge favor by driving me home. ‘Kay? Let’s go back to our lives and pretend this never happened.”
“But it did happen,” said Keith, matter of fact.
Lance sagged his shoulders, repressing a painful groan. He wanted to go inside and never see Keith again. Well, he’d see Keith at school, but you got the picture.
Suddenly, Lance said, with an attitude, “Why? Why do you want to pick me up? We don’t know each other! You’re the most popular guy at school, and I’m…God, you probably don’t even know my name!” He knew he was being a prick, but in all honesty, Lance was curious. Curious as to why, of all the people who exist in the world, did Keith Kogane want to drive Lance to school.
“Because… just because,” answered Keith. “You’re…” He scrunched his face gathering Lance’s incredulous face. “Leandro, right?”
“You can call me Leo.”
“Leo.” Keith smiled.
He really had forgotten Lance.
“But people who know me call me Lance. Be here by 7:30…” Lance started dragging his feet to his house, his back to Keith, one brown hand in the air waving, “See you tomorrow. Don’t be late!”
When Lance turned around, Keith was already speeding away, but with a glance, he noticed a gloved hand in the air waving back.