Keith works out, Lance ogles happily, Pidge tries to analyze the nature of their PDA ... she swiftly regrets all the things.
Some very kind people have sent me some very kind asks and made me feel better about being sick lately — and suddenly, my fingers were doing a thing on the keyboard? This thing, specifically? Just, everyone is so very nice, and I hope you like this silly little one-shot about silly space boys :) (Special shout-out to the anonymous person that called out this idea before I posted! Such amazing psychic powers! :D)
“But seriously, if my calculations are correct — shut your mouth, Lance, they are always correct — then Keith is initiating fifty two point seven percent of the times you make me want to invent brain bleach.” Pidge pauses to push her glasses up her nose. “Keith, care to offer some insight into this?”
“No.” Keith resumes lifting weights. Really, discovering the Castle’s weight room was one of the worst things that could have happened to Lance — now his boyfriend split his free time between training simulations and tossing around heavy things/running on treadmills.
The Red Paladin had become a gym rat. The Blue Paladin was not surprised.
Also, Keith didn’t need more muscles, as Lance didn’t need that kind of heart attack. Even if watching those bicep strain was … nice.
“My boo is just too hot to trot for my banging bod,” Lance says proudly, flexing his own (not quite as big but still very impressive) biceps.
Keith stops lifting weights so he can face palm. Pidge stares up towards the heavens in supplication.
“That’s going in my notes as one of the top five worst things you’ve ever said. Maybe top three.” Pidge actually takes out her computer to write it down.
Keith, with his face still buried in one hand, points with his other and says, “I don’t know if I can kiss that mouth at all today. That was horrifying.”
“Fifty two point seven percent, querido,” Lance cheerfully reminds him. “Ain’t nobody buying what you’re selling.”
Keith shoots Pidge a despairing glance. “I mean, was the pining that bad, really? Would it be so terrible to go back to that?”
Lance has taken a seat directly across from Keith, lifting a set of weights (they were barbells with rocks on either end — Coran had said something about how one could alter the density, thereby making them heavier/lighter, but Lance had immediately gotten distracted by challenging everyone to a weight lifting competition and somehow it ended with Hunk bench-pressing Lance and Pidge, and Shiro trying to throw Keith over their heads? Lance still doesn’t quite understand what happened there).
“I feel like the reason Keith is macking on me in public more is because he’s kinda into the fact that he can,” Lance explains, grunting a little as he tries to mimic Keith’s moves. “I mean, the pining was so real — he had been staring lingeringly at me from afar for so long, and now it’s like, free pass to grope all the time.” Lance winks at Keith, who is venturing to peek at him from between his fingers. “Because you do. Have a free pass. To grope. Put your hands any —”
“I know.” Keith lifts his weights with relative ease, a small smile pulling on his lips. “And yeah, Pidge. Maybe that’s part of it.”
“Part of it?” Lance asks, somewhat breathlessly as he switches arms since his right one was starting to ache from the effort. “Dude. All of it. Your thirstiness is not to be denied.”
Pidge rolls her eyes, jotting down a few more notes from her perch on the jungle gym (like, with actual vines for swinging and bouncy giant lily pads — Lance could not get over how cool Alteans were). “Believe it or not, I actually came to that conclusion on my own — Keith is now thirty six point four percent more affectionate with everyone, not just you, Lance.”
“That’s … really sweet,” Lance says, feeling vaguely proud of both himself and Keith. The idea that he’s making Keith more willing to show his love to the rest of their space family … It’s a little humbling, and a lot of awesome. He can feel his cheeks heating up.
The weights Keith had been lifting are now on the floor as he walks over to Lance, lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. Lance is grinning at the flash of a still slightly soft tummy (Keith has muscle definition, but there’s a small bit of cushiness around his middle that Lance really loves). Lance stops grinning when Keith suddenly drops into his lap, straddling him on the bench without any warning.
“You’re forgetting something key, Pidge,” Keith is saying, glancing over his shoulder at the Green Paladin, who is looking annoyed and amused in equal parts.
“All right, enlighten me.” Pidge grimaces. “With as a little trauma as possible, if you please.”
“I think I’m gonna expire in a minute here, Pidge, mi hermanita querida, would you please spare me the humiliation and not witness this? Keith, whatever it is that you’re thinking —”
Keith covers his mouth with one hand, and Lance tries to speak past it, yelling his objections into the palm of a fingerless glove.
“See, notice how he can still talk?” Keith tilts his head in Lance’s direction, speaking with infuriating calm. “It’s a bit of a problem sometimes. But —”
The hand is gone. Lance is pissed off enough to start shouting, “Hey, you jackass, wail till I —”
Keith’s lips are on his. His mouth falls open automatically, and Lance sort of loses the thread of … reality. Pidge whips them both in the head with a towel, which is when his wondrous boyfriend pulls away, leaving Lance gaping, licking his lips, and contemplating if he should still be irritated.
“Efficient, no?” Keith asks, his dark eyes glinting.
Pidge is glaring at him. “Except for the brain bleach aspect. Which I am going to go work on now. With Hunk’s help, he is one hundred percent behind me on this. There are cameras in here, by the way, not that that’s ever stopped you before …” She gets up and walks out, though not before ruffling Lance’s hair and saying, “You’re such a goner, hermano.”
When she’s gone, and Lance is left with nothing but a smug Red Paladin sitting on his thighs, he huffs, jabbing at Keith’s chest. “So you’re kissing me to shut me up most of the time?”
“Not most of the time,” Keith admits, his smirk easing back into a smile. “But Pidge would have probably gagged if I told her the main reason.”
“It’s not the ‘can’t resist my stellar good looks’?” Lance pouts. “That’s a little disappointing.”
Keith presses a quick kiss to his mouth. He’s flushed from exercise, but Lance swears his cheeks get a little bit darker as he speaks, “It’s because half the time I think I’ve made up this whole stupid thing, okay? We got together at a freaking ball. There was a duel involved. And dancing in fancy suits.” Keith waves his hands around for emphasis before crossing his arms. “And we still argue like … It’s fine, but it feels like before sometimes, so I just … need to make sure it’s not. Like before.”
Lance follows these words until he understands where they’re leading and then … He’s blushing, and smiling, and pulling Keith in closer. “You … you need to make sure this is real. That you didn’t … dream it. Because … I’m that good of a dream, huh?”
Keith groans, burying his face in Lance’s shoulder. “Crap. Okay, backtrack, I never said anything, especially not that stupid, sugary pile of —”
“No, no take backs!” Lance sings. “I … sometimes have the same problem. So, uh, a good chunk of my forty seven point three percent contribution is exactly that.” He smiles up at Keith once the Red Paladin pulls back and sits up a little straighter in Lance’s lap.
“Yeah?” Keith leans down, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Yeah,” Lance whispers against his mouth … which is when a painfully loud alarm goes off, and they are simultaneously soaked in freezing water as sprinklers kick in. Lance shrieks. Keith falls backward off his lap to the now slippery floor.
“You have rooms. Go get in one!” Pidge yells over the Castle comm.
“Please!” That sounded like Shiro’s voice, a little distant from the microphone.
Lance is laughing and shivering, and Keith is back to being mortified, but they adhere to Pidge’s wishes (who knew what she might pull next? Lance wouldn’t put it past her to space them at this point), and take off running. Keith yanks Lance into the gym’s showers.
“No cameras in here,” Keith says, raising an eyebrow. “And I need a shower anyway.”
Lance is rendered speechless. He wonders if this counts as part of Keith’s fifty two point seven percent of PDA. He wonders if Pidge is all-knowing. And then there’s a shirt coming off, and warm water pouring from a shower head, Keith kicking off his shoes from inside the cubicle. Lance can’t think as Keith’s hands reach for his shorts … and then pause.
“Yeah, so you just wait right here — you can take your turn when I’m done.” Keith grins and slams the shower door in his face.
Lance wonders if there’s a way to flush a toilet on a space castle to turn the water into a frigid torture. He says as much out loud, kicking lightly at the door.
Keith is laughing, and Lance may or may not adore that sound more than any other in the universe, except for his mom’s affectionate scolding … So, he decides to wait until the Red Paladin is done and then do his best to up his percentage. Forty seven point three percent simply will not do, Lance thinks to himself with a goofy smile.
Random one-shot after Objects in Motion? I think so :) If y’all wanna read about the ball, duel, and dancing, head over there. Thank you to all the wondrous people who have been so awesome to me! You’re all way too amazing for words, but I hope you guys enjoy these above words as a random “thank you!” :D