KL post-canon sorta fwb/situationship AU where they rile each other up!!!!!!1!1!!1!
—
Lance is so fucking annoying. Keith has decided that his mindset from when he was 18 (and sexually confused—actually, maybe just repressed?) is now superior.
Keith hates how Lance flirts with anything that even remotely looks like a woman. He hates how he jokes around too much. He hates how extensive his skin routine is. He hates how he can’t decide whether he wants to punch Lance or kiss him senseless every single time he wiggles his eyebrows as an attempt to flirt or recites a crappy one-liner at him.
His Things I Hate About Lance list is about to be updated, because they’re at yet another diplomatic party on earth (which is actually more of a “celebrating the fact that the universe didn’t get destroyed” party) and Lance is wearing a navy blue button-down shirt which is very much accentuating his muscles, and it’s causing his brain to malfunction. I guess the constant labor at the farm paid off, Keith thinks.
He’s also flirting with a lady who also seems to be extremely appreciative of Lance’s outfit choice. They look like they’re about to decimate each other in the middle of the room with how their eyes are focused solely on the other. Lance’s eyes flick over to him for a second before he just smirks at Keith—the smug fuck—then he focuses back on the girl in front of him before settling his hand on her hip and leaning closer, his voice a hushed whisper against the shell of her ear.
Keith just rolls his eyes. Not that he cares about who Lance sleeps with anyways.
“You’re drooling.” Shiro says, which earns him a moderately hard slap from Keith on his non-prosthetic arm. “You look mad, too.”
“Shut up.” Keith grumbles, because apparently his 14 year old self’s attitude is now the best way to go, “Go away.”
“Jeez, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“I said, shut it! Or else telling Adam you made out with Curtis.”
“Please, they’re probably making out with each other as of this moment.”
“Gross!”
“What are you, 12?”
Keith does not go ahead and answer that question, mostly because he doesn’t want to admit that he’s acting more and more immature as the seconds that he stares at Lance and the woman go by.
Shiro, who has been a spectator of Keith pining over the Red Paladin since the early days of Voltron, sighs, before ruffling Keith’s hair, “Please just try and talk out whatever this weird sexual tension between you and him is. For me, please? I’ve already constructed a customized shovel talk for him if you ever do get with him, and let’s just say updating it over the years—”
“Alright, alright! I’ll do it!”
“Thanks, child.”
“Child? Is that what we’re doing now?”
“Just go!”
—
Keith, both fortunately and unfortunately, does not get to talk to Lance until after the party. He walks around the ballroom, and multiple people tell him Lance was last seen walking out eagerly with a girl, so he waits until the next day to talk to him.
What feels unsettling is that how most of the people who let him know about where Lance has gone were talking in an almost…disappointed manner; like they had expected better from him. Which is ridiculous, because for starters, Lance doesn’t need to be all serious and on guard all of the time, especially since they’re celebrating the fact that they had won the war—in fact, it would be out of character for Loverboy Lance to not flirt with at least one person at a party. Secondly, Lance is basically still a kid. Sure, he’s been through some stuff, but he’s still 20 years old. He wouldn’t even have graduated college by now!
Keith gets that they are the Paladins of Voltron, and their duty is to protect the universe, but sometimes the expectations people have for them make them look like flawless, error-free machines who never make mistakes or miss a beat, when it’s far from that. They’re human too. They mess up plans like half the time (maybe not half, but you get the point)!
When he’s walking to Lance’s house—somewhere about a 5 minute walk away from the city and a 10 minute walk from his own house—he stops in his tracks.
What is he even going to say to him?
He can’t be flat-out, outright straightforward with Lance and say, “Oh, I’m kinda in love with you, and have been for the past 5 or so years, so could we stop this friends-with-benefits situationship we have going on and just cut to the real deal?”, but he also can’t be too vague with it.
Though, if there’s anything that Voltron has taught him, one of the things would be, without a doubt, is that you always have to be prepared to improvise.
He knocks on the cold wood, and just when Keith is about to reconsider even coming here, the door opens.
—
In the course of 5 seconds, Keith goes from knocking on a door to being slammed against that same door. Not that he’s going to complain.
“Sorry—” Lance manages in between kisses, “—about—” a kiss on his forehead, “—yesterday.” He kisses Keith gently on the lips, adding more pressure when the smaller’s arms come to wrap around his neck.
Just as Keith relaxes, he breaks the kiss, genuinely confused, “Wait, what?”
“It’s just that you seemed genuinely sad when I was flirting with her, and—” Lance attempts to explain, only for Keith to cut him off.
“Hey, don’t apologize to me for that.” Keith protests. “I was just jealous that you looked fucking amazing in that dress shirt and she was the one who got to have you. Besides, we aren’t exclusive.”
He expects Lance to loosen up—maybe brag about how he wooed Keith with his dazzling looks, but he sure as Zarkon and Honerva themselves does not expect him say this:
“But what if I want to be exclusive?”
Keith’s heart catches in his throat, eyes widening like saucers, “What?”
“I said,” Lance looks straight at Keith, his gaze piercing,
“What if I want to be exclusive?”
Oh, fuck.
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