Shut Up And Dance With Me//Klance//Complete

Step With Me

[ THURSDAY ]

Keith is already regretting his life choices.

"To be honest, with your mullet, I was expecting a lot more eighties songs or emo remixes." Lance says from his seat against the mirror. Both of their bags have been tossed to the side, and Keith's phone is in Lance's hand, hooked up to the speakers as Lance browses through his music. Keith had made a playlist specifically for today with all the songs he has full or partial choreography for.

They're in room 4D, which had taken a lot of stubbornness on Keith's part and a lot of whining on Lance's. Keith insisted that he wasn't going to practice in a room with a shoddy auxiliary cable. Lance had eventually given in when Keith reminded of him of his promise about no complaining.

"I don't listen to that much eighties." Keith grumbles, stretching an arm across his chest. He knows he can't deny it completely. Lance had heard him listening to Billy Idol after all.

Lance looks up at him, eyebrows raised. A small smirk curves his lips. "I don't hear you denying the emo music."

Keith glares at him, switching arms. "I don't listen to emo music either."

Lance scoffs, lifting Keith's phone and dangling it between a thumb and forefinger. "So you're saying that if I go through all the music in your phone, right here, right now, I won't find any music that classifies as emo?"

Keith holds his glare and purses his lips. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks. "It was a phase."

Lance's face breaks out in a wide grin. "Aha! I knew it! You do have emo music on here!"

"It's only there for nostalgic purposes."

"Oh yeah? Like what? When you get all moody and broody?"

Keith snorts, rolling his eyes. He throws an arm behind his head, putting a hand on his elbow to stretch it. He looks away, turning so his side is to Lance so he doesn't have to look at him. "Like when Pidge and I go on road trips."

The silence is uncharacteristic. After a few beats of it, Keith glances back, eyebrow raised. Lance's eyes are blown wide, his jaw practically on the floor. He's not really sure what would warrant that reaction.

Keith blinks. "What?"

"No. Way." Lance breathes, blinking out of his stupor. "Pidge had an emo phase?"

Oh. Oh. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Did they never tell you that?"

"No!" Lance is grinning now, and Keith isn't sure how his cheeks don't hurt with the sheer size of it. "I cannot believe— You're kidding me, right? This has to be a joke."

Keith shakes his head, switching arms. "Nope. Pidge went through the emo phase with me. Dyed their hair and everything."

"Oh. My. God." Lance throws back his head and laughs. The motion rocks him backwards and he hits his head on the mirror, cutting off his laughter abruptly. "Oooow," He whines, but he's still grinning as he rubs the back of his head. "You have to give me pictures."

Keith shakes his head, letting his arms drop. He swings them, crossing them in front of him before pulling them back. "Nope, not gonna happen."

"Keith, please. This is a need."

Keith shakes his head again, giving Lance a small smile. "Nope. They would kill me. Or at least try to maul me. You can't dance with me if Pidge breaks my legs. Besides, they have too many photos of me to retaliate with."

"Ugh, why must you ex-emos always stick together." He groans, slumping against the mirror and letting his arms flop to the sides. He pouts, glaring at Keith. "Hunk is my best friend, and I would totally sell out his embarrassing high school pictures for a donut and some coffee."

Keith rolls his eyes, but he can't help the small smile on his face. He turns his back to Lance to hide it, walking out into the center of the room. "I don't know why Hunk puts up with you."

"Hey, Hunk loves me."

"He's too good for you."

"Would Shiro have embarrassing pictures of you two in your emo phase?"

Keith freezes, his smile instantly disappearing. He turns around slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Don't you dare."

Lance's grin is back, along with a wicked glint in his eyes. "Oh, I dare."

Keith sighs, waving a hand at him. "Just pick a song. We only have this room for an hour."

Lance huffs and mumbles something that sounds a lot like, "Party pooper." But he does as he's told. Keith stretches out his legs as he waits, doing his best to ignore all the muttered comments about his music taste.

Unfortunately, there's only so much he can take.

"Just pick something." Keith groans.

Lance scoffs. "How about you cool your jets, hot shot? This is a big ass playlist, and a big decision! Besides, how am I supposed to know what dances are good or not?"

"They're all good." Keith huffs.

"Pfff, yeah, okay. But they need to be regionals worthy."

"Just... pick some songs and I'll demonstrate them for you."

Lance looks up at that, eyebrows raised and eyes wide as he blinks. Then his expression settles into something more... suggestive. His eyes go half lidded, a smirk curves his lips, and he tilts his head to the side as he waggles his eyebrows. "Oh ho ho, gonna put on a personal show for me?"

"Lance," Keith says flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. He ignores the heat that's crawling up his neck. "Don't make this weird."

"I take offense to that. I never make things weird."

"You're the epitome of weird."

"Rude!"

"Just pick a song."

"Fine!" He looks back down at the phone in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen. "This one. It's go time, mullet man. Show me what we're working with."

The opening to Rather Be starts up, and Keith immediately lets it wash over him. A small smirk tugs at his lips as his eyes drift closed as he takes up his position in the middle of the room. His head bobs loosely, and his foot taps to the beat. He breathes deep at the pause, and then the lyrics start and Keith is moving.

The muscle memory comes easily, and he's a little thankful that he's practiced this one a lot recently. He hates to admit it, but he really does want to show off a little for Lance. And this is the perfect song to do just that. Lance couldn't have picked a better one to start off with. This is the song he had been planning to do for solo auditions. He won't tell Lance that, though. He'd rather let the guy think that he's usually this smooth remembering all of his choreography.

Still, he's glad he actually gets to do this dance for Lance. Make him watch. Prove to him that he can dance, and he can do it well. Hopefully make him shut up for once. It's just like he wanted it at auditions: Lance's eyes on him. His undivided attention. Lance being forced to watch as Keith shows him what he's capable of. Impressing him. Except unlike auditions would have been, they're alone, and that adds a whole new level of intimacy that Keith expected to be awkward. Instead he feels a little thrill run through him, and—

And now he's the one making it weird.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he lets the music and lyrics tug at his muscle memory, dragging his body around like a puppet. In a way, he has perfect control. In another, he's a complete slave to it.

His arms alternate between rigid and flowing movements, jerking and locking into place before sliding into the next movement. His steps are precise, shifting and altering his body weight and balance to better accommodate the movements his arms make. He spins and steps. Flow, stop, move, pop. There's big movements and small, more precise ones. He grabs at his clothes, slides his hands along his body, gestures widely with his arms, rolls his hips, all the while his feet carry him around the dance floor.

He doesn't watch Lance. There's too many movements to focus on one place for long. His body is constantly turning, spinning. His head whips around. This way and that. He runs his hands through his hair, tugging some strands loose from his pony tail. He looks up, whips his head to the side, then back front, looks down, flips his hair. He has no time to focus on anything. Not Lance. Not himself in the mirror. So he goes through the movements with his eyes half lidded and unfocused, putting all of his concentration into not second guessing himself, letting his body react the way it had been trained to. He knows this dance. He knows it like the back of his hand. And he just needs to trust his body, his instincts, to follow through.

This dance has a lot of movements in it. One constantly flowing into the next. A lot of emotion shown in the way his whole body gets into it, his head, his limbs, his hips. He ends up on the floor, legs and arms crossed as he rolls his shoulders. It's a slow enough moment that he takes a second to look up at Lance.

What he sees makes his heart jump into his throat.

Lance is staring at him with wide eyed awe. His lips are parted slightly, face relaxed. He looks... completely blown away, and Keith feeds on that. But then the seconds have passed, and he's throwing himself across the floor, legs and arms getting into it. Then he's on his feet again. The chorus builds. He jumps. The beat picks up with it, and his feet dance quickly in measured steps. He alternates between fast movements and slow ones, rolling his hips and running his fingers through his hair. He can't bring himself to look at Lance again.

When the song ends, Keith is left panting. He puts his hands on his hips, chest heaving with every breath. He bends at the waist a little, letting his hair fall in front of his face. A lot of it has come out of the small ponytail. He would be lying if he said he hadn't choreographed that dance with his hair in mind. He has the length to flip it around, so why not? It keeps him from having to look at the audience for too long.

He straightens, running a hand through his bangs to get them out of his face, and looks at Lance. As soon as they made eye contact, Lance's mouth snaps shut and his brow furrows. He looks down quickly. "That was, uh..."

"Yeah?" Keith prompts when he trails off.

"Uh, good. I guess. Yeah, pretty good."

Keith is grinning. "Now try saying that without looking like you're having a tooth pulled."

"Yeaaaaah, that's not gonna happen."

Keith sighs. "Laaance."

"I'm trying, okay? Yeesh, get off my back." Lance still hasn't looked up at him. He's scowling down at Keith's phone, thumb scrolling through the playlist.

Keith sighs, giving up trying to make eye contact. He walks over to his stuff and grabs his water bottle, guzzling several mouthfuls before lowering it, gasping for air as he wipes his mouth. He pulls out his hair tie and puts it between his teeth as he gathers up his hair. Once it's secured behind his head again, he turns to look at Lance.

He's staring at him again, face contorted into a glare.

Keith scowls. "What?"

Lance shakes his head, looking down again. "Nothing." Before Keith can push it, Lance continues talking. "Why don't you have like, any of my girls on here?"

Keith raises an eyebrow. "Your girls?"

"Yeah! Like Shakira—"

"No."

"Lady gaga—"

"No."

"Rhianna—"

"No."

"Oh, come on, Keith!" Keith is never sure how he manages to pull off his name like an insult, but he does. "Live a little!" He scowls down at Keith's phone, scrolling, when suddenly he stops. His scowl melts into the largest shit eating grin Keith has seen to date. "Oh, man, you have Anaconda on this list? Are you serious? You've got to be shitting me right now."

Keith groans, crossing one arm over his chest while the other goes to his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. He should have known not to put that song on there. But it had been late, and he had just hurriedly slapped together everything he knew he had a dance for. "It was on a dare." He says, sounding exasperated.

"Do tell." Keith really wants to just punch him.

Keith sighs, waving a hand around in the air and avoiding looking at Lance. His face is on fire and his ears are burning. "I was experimenting with choreographing different dance styles. Matt and Pidge said I wouldn't, so I did."

"Oh my god, that's literally all it took?"

He can just hear that grin in his voice. He makes some kind of noncommittal grunt in the back of his throat.

"In that case, I bet you won't do it."

Keith looks at him, face blank. "What? Now?"

God, how is it even possible for him to grin that wide? There has to be some sort of regulations on this shit. How can something so bright piss him off so much? Keith can barely look at him. But he does, because he's stubborn. He holds his gaze steadily, feeling his expression morph into a scowl in an attempt to smother the blush he feels. The itch beneath his skin is back. It only seems to happen around Lance.

"Yup! Right here, right now."

"You're kidding."

"I'm dead serious, Keith. Dead. Serious." He tries to darken his expression, but he can't quite hide that grin.

"No way."

"Yes way! You said you were going to demonstrate any dance I wanted to see! What if I want to pick this song for auditions?"

"You don't. You literally just want to see the dance."

"Okay, guilty, but what's the harm?"

"I'm not doing it, Lance."

"What's wrong, Keith?" He tilts his chin downward, gazing up at Keith with a smirk that makes his blood pressure rise and his stomach boil. "Scared?"

"I'm not scared!" He snaps.

"Prove it!" And then he's hit the track and the music starts playing.

Keith glares at him, but Lance holds his gaze, smirking with all the confidence in the world. Fine. Lance wants to see it? Fine. Keith is going to wipe that fucking smirk off his face.

The beat starts along with Nikki's lyrics, and Keith is in motion. He steps sideways, shaking his hips twice before he's shifting back, dropping slowly on the balls of his feet, knees out and hands sliding along his thighs. Be bounces twice before he's standing again, hips cocked and rotating while his arms go through the motions.

Honestly, he's surprised he even still remembers this dance. It's been years. He guesses his muscle memory is better than he realized. He shouldn't be too surprised. When he comes up with a dance, he practices it step for step, move for move, dozens, if not hundreds of times. He beats that shit into himself until he can practically do it in his sleep. He refreshes a lot of his favorite dances occasionally, but this one he hadn't done in ages.

Under normal circumstances, he would be a little hesitant, a little worried that he wouldn't be able to remember the moves. He might even get a little in his own head, probably stutter step a little.

But... there's just something about Lance that brings out his grim determination.

Eyes locked on Lance's, he feels a strange calm come over him. He doesn't think. He just lets the oddly familiar beats tug his body into place like a mannequin. He doesn't question himself. He trusts his body to do what it needs to. It's... a strangely freeing feeling. It's not often he gets into a zone like this, but damn, does he love it when he does.

Lance doesn't look away, and even if he tries, Keith won't let him. Eyes locked, face relaxed, he goes through the dance. It has a lot in common with his usual choreography: the sharp, quick movements interspersed with slower glides. The main difference is there's a lot more... hips in it than he's used to. A lot of thrusts and grinds and struts than he usually does. But it fits the song.

When he first preformed it for Pidge and Matt years ago, he had been nervous. He felt awkward doing the moves, like he was somehow doing them wrong, despite all his practice and despite it looking fine in the mirror. He wasn't sure if he could actually pull them off. Eventually, the laughter from his friends was enough for him to get into it, laughing at himself and the sheer ridiculousness of it. Pidge assured him later that it was actually really good, even if they found it funny.

Now, however, Keith doesn't feel nervous at all. He feels nothing but the fire that rolls and boils in his gut. His moves get quicker, and he hits them all. There are a few times where he forgets the exact positions, so he improvises with a few body rolls and hip movements to get him into the next part he remembers. His hands slide through his hair, and at some point he pulls out his hair tie all together, flipping his hair and letting it fall in front of his face.

He expects Lance to laugh. He expects some sort of joke. Instead, he gets to watch with increasing satisfaction as Lance's jaw drops, eyes widening. It's similar to the look he had given him earlier, but there's something... different. He looks transfixed. The awe is definitely there, but there's also something unreadable in his eyes. Surprise? Probably. Keith doesn't know what it is, but he doesn't care. As long as that stupid fucking smirk isn't there anymore.

Keith closes his eyes for a moment, breaking eye contact for the first time since the song started. He rolls his body, turning sideways and tilting his head back—

And then the song cuts off.

His eyes snap open. He's mid turn, and he freezes. Without the music playing, this pose feels incredibly awkward, and something akin to self consciousness starts to seep in. It's covered immediately by a flash of anger.

"Lance, what the—"

"Nope. Enough of that. We're done."

Keith straightens, leaning his weight to one hip as he crosses his arms over his chest. "You were the one who wanted me to dance to that stupid song—"

"And now I'm saying that we're done." Lance's words are clipped, his voice oddly strained. His eyes are downcast, looking at Keith's phone, lips pursed and brows furrowed. His tan complexion is made darker by the flush settled onto his cheeks. He's shifting restlessly where he sits.

"Lance, what are you—"

"Done!"

"What—"

"Moving on!"

"Fine!" He throws his arms up in the air, spinning on his heel to turn his back to him. Lance doesn't make any sense, and he's done trying to figure him out. They're not even halfway through their practice, and Keith is already done. Whatever. Fuck him. He wonders if it's too late to back out. Shiro would probably kill him, but it might be worth it to keep his sanity.

He puts his hair back up, scowling at the back wall. "Just pick something else then. We need to settle on a song."

"Aye, aye, captain." Lance says mockingly.

They don't end up picking a song.

                                                               --------------------------------------------------------

[ FRIDAY ]

Lance bursts into the room with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step.

Okay, yeah, so the day before had been a total shit show, and they hadn't figured anything out. They had spent the entirety of their practice time arguing over music and Keith demonstrating dances.

He refused to do things Lance's way, and had somehow managed to notice the moment Lance put his playlist on shuffle. Quite frankly, it was creepy. He could have sworn his poker face was better than that.

Point is, none of the songs or dances really spoke to him. Yeah, they were good. Yeah, he might admit that he likes some of the music on Keith's playlist. And yes, okay, Keith is a good dancer with some wicked awesome dances up his sleeve. But none of them had seemed... right.

Keith had complained that Lance was being picky, and he is! This is a very important decision and it needs to be something that works well for bothof them!

Lance slams the door to room 4D open wide as he bursts into the room. "Keith!"

Keith is already there. He's standing by the front mirror, stretching. At Lance's entrance, however, he jumps, spinning around to face him, eyes wide and a hand on his chest. "Jesus fuck, Lance!"

Lance ignores him, slamming the door shut as he strides into the room. "I've got an idea!"

Keith's look of surprise has already reset into a familiar scowl. "Whatever it is, I'm against it."

"Oh, haha, just listen, alright?" His smile never falters as he strides to the center of the room, tossing his backpack across the floor so it slides over to bump against the mirror. "Here, plug this in." He says, tossing his phone to Keith.

"Lance, what the—" He snatches Lance's phone out of the air with minimal fumbling. He should probably be grateful for that. Keith scowls at him, shaking his phone in the air. "I could have dropped this!"

"Yeah, but you didn't." Lance says, grinning with his hands on his hips. "Thanks for that, by the way. Now plug that in and play the first song there."

Keith sighs, but walks over to the auxiliary chord. "What are you up to?" He asks, sounding tired.

"Okay, okay, so I was thinking about how we were going about this, how I was looking through your phone and randomly clicking songs so you could show me the dance, right?" Keith nods, eyeing him silently. He still looks suspicious, but Lance definitely has his curiosity. Good. "Alright, so I was thinking that that probably isn't the best way to go about it? Cause we have to find something that you have a foundation for, but something that fits both of our styles and skill sets. But like, there's no way for me to know what kind of dance goes with a song until you show me. And if I'm picking the songs, then we could end up wasting a lot of time. Like yesterday." He's gesturing wildly and vaguely while he rambles, getting more and more excited. "And let's face it, yesterday was awful. We got nothing done. And I don't know about you, but that makes me a little anxious. I mean, Pidge and Hunk already have everything down pat, and I'm sure Shiro and Allura are already ready to go, cause they're both annoyingly perfect. I mean seriously, where do they even get off—"

"Lance," Keith says calmly but sharply, holding up a hand to make him pause. Lance drags in a lungful of air he hadn't realized he needed. Dang, had he said all that on one breath? His older sister has always said he's longwinded, but damn. "Breathe. Do you even have a point to this?"

Lance rolls his eyes, huffing indigently as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Of course I have a point, Keith. Just listen." Keith raises one eyebrow, but remains silent. Lance grins, spreading his arms wide. "You're going to watch me dance."

There's a beat of silence. Two. Three. Then Keith speaks, voice flat. "What?"

"You're going to watch me dance!" Lance repeats, arms still outstretched.

Keith just stares at him. "Why?"

Lance groans, flopping over and shoulders slumping as his arms fall to his sides. "Keeith, try to keep up! You're going to watch me dance, and then you're going to show me the dances you have that you think would fit us both. Brilliant, right?"

"That's—" Keith cuts himself off, brows furrowing. He presses his lips together into a small frown. He looks almost surprised. "That's not a bad idea."

Lance is grinning smugly. "Thank you. Now, DJ, let the music play."

Keith does as he's told, finally, and taps on the song. It immediately starts to play over the speakers. He sets Lance's phone down on the small table and leans his back against the mirror, one leg propped up behind him and arms crossed over his chest.

Lance would be lying if he said he wasn't a little nervous, what with Keith watching him like this. But he's nothing if not a performer, and he thriveson attention. So he embraces the surge of adrenaline that pulses through his veins when he meets Keith's curious gaze. Oh yeah. He's going to knock this guy's socks off.

As soon as the beat starts, he's moving from side to side, feeling the tempo as he slides, getting his arms into it. "This was my audition song, by the way." He says, shooting a grin at Keith.

Both of his eyebrows go up at that, and his expression is unreadably blank. But before he can say anything, Lance is moving.

He kicks, brings his foot back, hips rotating with each step and arms going with the lyrics. He snaps, he points, all the while he steps with each beat. Crossing, spinning, crouching, stepping. His gestures fit the music and the lyrics. It's upbeat, it's fun, and he finds himself mouthing along with the words, facial expressions getting into the groove with him. He knows his footwork is impressive with this dance, quick paced and fun, and he wants to show off a little.

Judging from the look on Keith's face, it's working.

He owns the dance floor, and he makes use of his space. There's not a moment when something isn't moving, whether it's his arms, legs, hips, feet, hands, head. As usual, he doesn't have a set choreographed dance. It's more like... a guideline. He knows vaguely what to do, and he rolls with the rest. It's like, eighty percent planned and twenty percent improvisation. He has fun with it, feeling the music and trusting his body to move in a way he knows will fit.

This is his element. No partners to fit to. No one to tell him how to move. He just does what he knows he can, what feels right. Nothing and no one can touch him.

When the song ends, his chest is heaving with every pant, and his cheeks hurt with the force of his grin. He puts his hands on his hips, looking back to Keith. He hasn't moved from his spot, and his face is still mostly blank, but Lance likes to think he sees something in there that means he's impressed.

He's not scowling at least. Or frowning. He's not smiling either, but that might have been too much to hope for. It definitely looks like he's putting some effort into schooling his expression though. Whatever. Let him continue to be mysterious or whatever the fuck. Lance knows he did, and looked, good.

He bows dramatically, sweeping his arms to the side and bending at the waist. "So?" He says when he straightens. Keith just blinks, staring at him. Lance sighs, slumping dramatically. "Keith, come ooooon, humor me."

He seems to come out of his stupor then, shaking his head. "It was, uh, good." He's not meeting his eyes.

"Just good?" Lance prompts.

That gets Keith to look at him. Or rather, glare at him. Especially after Lance smirks and waggles his eyebrows. Keith huffs. "That's all you're getting, Lance. Don't push it."

"Why you gotta be so ruuuuude!" Lance sings dramatically, putting his hands to his chest and stumbling backwards. He holds one hand out to Keith, twisting his torso and hips as he throws his head back. "Don't you know I'm human, tooooo!"

When his antics don't get a reaction, he straightens. Keith isn't looking at him, and he's not leaning up against the mirror anymore. He's at the auxiliary chord, which is now inserted into his own phone as he scrolls through it. His brows are pinched slightly, and his lips are pursed in concentration. He doesn't look mad, or even annoyed. Maybe like... a Keith version of thoughtful?

"Whatcha doing?" Lance asks curiously, coming to stand next to him and eyeing his phone over his shoulder.

"I... I think I have an idea." He says absently, finding a song and tapping it before setting his phone down. He steps out toward the center of the room.

This time it's Lance's turn to lean against the mirror, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Is that so, McMullet?"

Keith ignores him, taking up a starting position as the song starts. "Just tell me what you think. This one's a work in progress, but we might be able to work with it. And you have to imagine it with two people."

"Just dance, Keith." He says, rolling his eyes. Lance is a little skeptical, to say the least. He doubts Keith can just come up with the dance first thing when they had already spent a whole practice session and came up with nothing.

Then he watches Keith move, the steady beat filling the room and— yeah, it's not much with just one person, but— but with two people, specifically him and Keith, this could be—

The song isn't even over, in fact it's only been roughly a minute, before Lance is pushing off the mirror and rushing forward. Keith seems him coming and flinches away, stopping his dance as Lance's hands come down on his shoulders.

"Keith!" He says loudly, grinning at the other.

"What?" Keith snaps without heat. He looks bewildered. "Lance, you didn't let me finish—"

"I don't care, this is it!" He says quickly, volume probably a little too high, but he's excited. "This is it! This is the one! This is brilliant! Let's do it! It already looks awesome!"

Keith's expression finally cracks, relaxing as a small smile tugs at his lips. Lance feels his heart rate pick up, and blames it on his excitement. "Really?" He asks, voice soft and a little breathless.

"Really!"

Keith's resulting grin is blinding.

                                                     ------------------------------------------------------------

[ SATURDAY ]

coo coo motherfuckers added vive la lance, uptown hunk, last resort to this conversation

coo coo motherfuckers: GUYS
coo coo motherfuckers: GUYS
coo coo motherfuckers: CHECK THIS OUT

coo coo motherfuckers has sent an image

vive la lance: PIDGE!!
vive la lance: YOU TOOK A PICTURE??!
coo coo motherfuckers: of course I did
coo coo motherfuckers: I had to document this momentous occasion
coo coo motherfuckers: who know when this'll happen again
vive la lance: I cannot belieVE
vive la lance: delete that riGHT NOW!!
coo coo motherfuckers: not a chance
uptown hunk: :O !!!!
uptown hunk: omg
uptown hunk: is that ???
coo coo motherfuckers: rigHT??
last resort: uhh what am I looking at?
coo coo motherfuckers: LANCE IS READING!
uptown hunk: I'm so proud :')
uptown hunk: our little boy is growing up
vive la lance: I hate you both
uptown hunk: <33
last resort: I take it he normally doesn't read
vive la lance: who tf is that anyway?
vive la lance: wtf is that screen name??
vive la lance: is that keith??
vive la lance: fuck you keith
last resort: what gave it away
vive la lance: maybe its my brilliant deduction skills
vive la lance: maybe its your sass ass mouth
vive la lance: maybe I can just SMELL your mullet through text
uptown hunk: maybe he's born with it
uptown hunk: maybe it's maybelline :O
last resort: why're you smelling my hair lance?
vive la lance: hard not to
vive la lance: you reek dude
last resort: sure you're not smelling yourself?
last resort: p sure you insist on dancing on the 4th floor so no one can smell your sweat
vive la lance: gaSP!!
vive la lance: I do NOT smeLL!!
vive la lance: yOU take that baCK!
last resort: make me
uptown hunk: hate to disagree with you, dude
uptown hunk: but Lance smells like any variation of coconut, honey dew melon, mint, peaches, vanilla, or lemongrass :/
coo coo motherfuckers: sometimes brown sugar or cinnamon
uptown hunk: he went through a flower phase too
last resort: what the actual fuck
coo coo motherfuckers: sadly it's true
coo coo motherfuckers: he's got a very intensive skin care routine and like 5 bottles of moisturizer on him at all times
last resort: do I even want to know?
coo coo motherfuckers: no
uptown hunk: no
vive la lance: B)
uptown hunk: speaking of things people should know
uptown hunk: we should add shiro and allura
vive la lance: whAT?? WHY??
uptown hunk: they need to see this
uptown hunk: it's a very special occasion
coo coo motherfuckers: on it

coo coo motherfuckers added Need-A-Hand, LLunarGoddess to this conversation

coo coo motherfuckers: SHIRO
coo coo motherfuckers: ALLURA
vive la lance: DONT LISTEN TO A THING PIDGE SAYS
Need-A-Hand: Um? What's this?
coo coo motherfuckers: it's a group chat, dad, get with the program
Need-A-Hand: >:(
Need-A-Hand: I know what a group chat is, Pidge
uptown hunk: pidge, leave dance dad alone, he's trying
Need-A-Hand: Thank you, Hunk
Need-A-Hand: And stop calling me dad
vive la lance: no can do daddy-o ;)
LLunarGoddess: what's going on?
coo coo motherfuckers: alright, prepare yourselves
coo coo motherfuckers: you might need to sit down for this
vive la lance: pidge no!
coo coo motherfuckers: pidge yes

coo coo motherfuckers has sent an image

vive la lance: ugh
Need-A-Hand: Um...
Need-A-Hand: Am I supposed to be looking at a picture of Lance... laying on the couch?
coo coo motherfuckers: well yes
coo coo motherfuckers: but notice what he's DOING
vive la lance: UGH
LLunarGoddess: oh
LLunarGoddess: oh my god
coo coo motherfuckers: allura's getting it ;)
vive la lance: pidge why are you LIKE this?
last resort: because pidge is an evil little demon
vive la lance: THANK YOU
vive la lance: Ive been telling them that for years
vive la lance: tho I prefer the term gremlin
coo coo motherfuckers: pleASE
coo coo motherfuckers: like you're one to talk keith
last resort: I'm innocent
Need-A-Hand: I, for one, would like to put in that no, you're not
coo coo motherfuckers: HA!
last resort: Isn't it past your bedtime, old man?
vive la lance: ooo shots fired
uptown hunk: guys, I think we should get back to the matter at hand?
uptown hunk: I mean, I'm seriously tearing up over here I'm so proud???
vive la lance: hunk pLS!
uptown hunk: what? I never thought this day would come
Need-A-Hand: I still don't get what I'm supposed to be looking at?
LLunarGoddess: he's reading, Shiro
LLunarGoddess: READING
vive la lance: ALLURA! NOT YOU TOO??!
LLunarGoddess: what? I'm proud of you :)
Need-A-Hand: Ooooh I see it now
Need-A-Hand: Congratulations, Lance!
vive la lance: shirooooo
Need-A-Hand: I'm proud of you
coo coo motherfuckers: (son)
uptown hunk: **son
coo coo motherfuckers: lol
uptown hunk: nice
LLunarGoddess: hold on, I'm adding Corn
Need-A-Hand: Corn?
coo coo motherfuckers: corn
uptown hunk: corn
last resort: corn
vive la lance: pls dont add corn
vive la lance: Im on a corn free diet
LLunarGoddess: ugh
LLunarGoddess: I'm adding him
vive la lance: WHYYYY
LLunarGoddess: he'll want to be in on this too
vive la lance: why cant you let ONE PERSON keep their respect for me??!
last resort: you can't lose what you never had
vive la lance: exCUSE

LLunarGoddess added I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul to this conversation

vive la lance: sure just invite everyone!
vive la lance: let everyone enjoy my misery!
vive la lance: haha lets get a laugh at lance
vive la lance: why dont we just make a poster and put in on the greeting wall at the studio??
LLunarGoddess: that could be arranged
vive la lance: ALLURA NO
coo coo motherfuckers: I can print out the picture
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: As much as I appreciate being included on general Lance roasting
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: Might I ask what the topic is this time?
vive la lance: I feel so beTRAYED
LLunarGoddess: Coran, you have to see this
LLunarGoddess: Pidge, send the picture again
coo coo motherfuckers: gotchu fam

coo coo motherfuckers has sent an image

I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: It's just Lance laying on the couch?
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: Forgive me, friends, but I don't see anything out of the ordinary here
vive la lance: THANK YOU CORAN
vive la lance: GOOD TO KNOW I HAVE ONE TRUE FRIEND
vive la lance: coran is my new best friend.
vive la lance: Best Friend™
LLunarGoddess: wait for it
coo coo motherfuckers: -waits-
uptown hunk: -crosses fingers-
last resort: -sighs-
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: Oooooh good golly!
vive la lance: coran
vive la lance: think about what youre doing
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: Lance my boy is that a BOOK in your hands??
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: Are you reading??
LLunarGoddess: there it is ;)
coo coo motherfuckers: hA!
uptown hunk: boom
vive la lance: THAT'S IT! I TAKE BACK THE BEST FRIEND STATUS!
uptown hunk: awesome, my place is still secured B)
vive la lance: nope
vive la lance: I have no friends
last resort: so you finally admit it
uptown hunk: ooooo
coo coo motherfuckers: ooOOooOOo
Need-A-Hand: Keith, play nice
last resort: fuck no you're not my real dad
vive la lance: shiro is the only one who loves me <3
Need-A-Hand: I wouldn't go that far
vive la lance: RUDE 3
Need-A-Hand: I'll consider loving you more now that I know you can read
uptown hunk: hey! I've read WAY more books than lance has, do you love me?
Need-A-Hand: Of course, Hunk
uptown hunk: awww <3
coo coo motherfuckers: yeah, but lance reading is like a special occasion
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: A celebration is in order!
LLunarGoddess: a party!
coo coo motherfuckers: a "holy shit lance likes books" party!
last resort: at least now we know he'll be able to read the invitation
vive la lance: fuCK YOU
vive la lance: I thought you guys were my friends!
uptown hunk: we am
uptown hunk: **are
coo coo motherfuckers: we am
uptown hunk: and as your friends— you know what, go ahead, get it out of your systems
vive la lance: we am
last resort: we am
LLunarGoddess: we am B)
Need-A-Hand: We am ;)
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: We am B{D
uptown hunk: so as I was saying
uptown hunk: and as your friends, we're proud of you for finally joining the world of the literate
vive la lance: HUNK!
uptown hunk: okay that came out a little meaner than intended
last resort: rekt
coo coo motherfuckers: I'm so proud
vive la lance: I just came here to have a good time and Im honestly feeling so attacked right now
coo coo motherfuckers: tbh I thought he WAS illiterate
vive la lance: SO. ATTACKED.
coo coo motherfuckers: calm down lance we're happy for you
LLunarGoddess: they grow up so fast :')
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: I remember when he was just a wee lad, tripping over his own feet while dancing
last resort: that was just earlier today
vive la lance: KEITH
vive la lance: WHAT HAPPENS IN 4D STAYS IN 4D
coo coo motherfuckers: oh ho ho ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
uptown hunk: oh my
LLunarGoddess: hiding more secrets, are we lance?
vive la lance: NOT LIKE THAT OH MY GOD
Need-A-Hand: Lance, what are your intentions toward my brother?
vive la lance: OOOOH MY GOD
uptown hunk: I don't want to know what happens in 4D
vive la lance: kill me pls
vive la lance: let me die
coo coo motherfuckers: nope we like torturing you too much
vive la lance: gremlin
coo coo motherfuckers: gangly giraffe
coo coo motherfuckers: so now that your reading secret is out, is there anything else we should know?
vive la lance: WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO BELIEVE I WOULD READ??
uptown hunk: lance
uptown hunk: I've known you for what, 7 years? 8?
vive la lance: more or less yeah
uptown hunk: in all those years, I don't think I've ever seen you willingly read a book
vive la lance: DECEPTION
vive la lance: (an outrage!)
vive la lance: DISGRACE
vive la lance: (for shame!)
last resort: are you quoting the song from lion king 2?
coo coo motherfuckers: he is
coo coo motherfuckers: he's singing it right now
Need-A-Hand: How do you know?
coo coo motherfuckers: I may or may not be sitting on him
Need-A-Hand: You're together in the same room and talking in this chat?
coo coo motherfuckers: uh yeah of course
coo coo motherfuckers: I had to share this moment with you guys
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: I, for one, am grateful
LLunarGoddess: same :')
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: Thank you, Pidge
coo coo motherfuckers: anytime B)
vive la lance: they came in here and took a picture WITHOUT ME KNOWING
vive la lance: and then STOLE MY BOOK AND SAT ON ME
vive la lance: AND NOW THEY WONT GET THEIR BONEY ASS UP
vive la lance: IM GOING TO GAVE BRUISES FROM YOU YA SHIT STAIN
last resort: you're going to gave bruises from them?
uptown hunk: gave
coo coo motherfuckers: hA! gave
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: I don't think Pidge is heavy enough to give you bruises
uptown hunk: they're not, trust me, I throw them around when we dance
last resort: yeah but lance is a fragile child
vive la lance: WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU??
last resort: do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically?
coo coo motherfuckers: lol
coo coo motherfuckers: lance just asked me what chronologically meant
vive la lance: LIES
uptown hunk: aw buddy
vive la lance: ANYWAY
vive la lance: I apologized for that stuff already!
vive la lance: or do you keep grudges in that greasy mullet of yours?
last resort: pidge are you sure he was reading or was he just staring at the pages? Was the book even right side up?
vive la lance: I CAN READ YOU ASS
last resort: I'll believe it when I see it
uptown hunk: oh! lance can read out loud to us at the party!
LLunarGoddess: brilliant idea, Hunk!
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: A good old fashioned story time!
LLunarGoddess: let's make it a pajama party!
vive la lance: only if theres pillow fights ;)
Need-A-Hand: Lance.
vive la lance: whAT??
coo coo motherfuckers: dude that's creepy
coo coo motherfuckers: how do you manage to do the Dad Voice™ through text??
uptown hunk: I think it's the proper caps and punctuation combo
LLunarGoddess: he does that all the time when he's trying to be stern
coo coo motherfuckers: how often is he trying to be stern with you, allura? ;)
vive la lance: yeah, does he try to punish you? ;)
last resort: I'm going to barf
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: I don't understand, why would Shiro punish her?
LLunarGoddess: I'm politely refusing to answer this line of questioning
Need-A-Hand: Pidge. Behave.
coo coo motherfuckers: I just got chills
coo coo motherfuckers: Dad Voice™ too strong
vive la lance: its true, they just shivered
last resort: why am I even in this chat?
uptown hunk: cause you're one of us now, man
coo coo motherfuckers: there's no escape
vive la lance: you love us ;)
last resort: definitely not
Need-A-Hand: Now you see what I put up with
LLunarGoddess: we're not so bad once you get used to us
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: Welcome to the family, Keith!

coo coo motherfuckers has renamed the conversation "Family BBQ - Today's Menu: Roasted Lance"

vive la lance: HEY!
coo coo motherfuckers: ;)
Need-A-Hand: What've you been reading anyway, Lance?
vive la lance: nothing
coo coo motherfuckers: hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy
Need-A-Hand: Keith, isn't that one of your favorite books?
vive la lance: NO
last resort: yes
Need-A-Hand: Um?
uptown hunk: uuuh
LLunarGoddess: have I missed something?
vive la lance: YOURE NOT MISSING ANYTHING THERE'S NOTHING TO MISS
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: Methinks the Lance-y doth protest too much
vive la lance: corAN WTF
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: 8{D
vive la lance: >:(
uptown hunk: pidge? fill us in?
coo coo motherfuckers: lance doesn't want to admit he's reading this book cause keith told him to
vive la lance: he didn't TELL me to!
last resort: I just suggested it
coo coo motherfuckers: okay
coo coo motherfuckers: my b
coo coo motherfuckers: he's reading because keith SUGGESTED a book
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: I see
LLunarGoddess: interesting
Need-A-Hand: Hmm
vive la lance: Not. A. Word.
last resort: I'm out of here
vive la lance: YOU ARE NOT
vive la lance: IF I HAVE TO SUFFER SO DO YOU
uptown hunk: hey keith, can you suggest to lance that he clean our apartment?
vive la lance: Im done
vive la lance: Im done with ALL OF YOU
coo coo motherfuckers: go back to reading you piss baby
vive la lance: I WOULD if SOMEONE would GIVE ME BACK MY BOOK
Need-A-Hand: Pidge. Give Lance his book back.
coo coo motherfuckers: but daaaad D:
Need-A-Hand: He's doing a good thing by expanding his horizons and reading. Don't interrupt him.
coo coo motherfuckers: ugh fine
vive la lance: get rekt pidge
Need-A-Hand: Lance, go back to reading.
vive la lance: you cant tell me what to do!
vive la lance: why would I go back to reading after suffering all this abuSE??
uptown hunk: you're going to tho right?
vive la lance: not the point hunk
last resort: do you like it so far?
vive la lance: ... yeah its alright
uptown hunk: aww
LLunarGoddess: awww
Need-A-Hand: Awwww
I-Mustache-u4ur-Soul: Awwwww
coo coo motherfuckers: awwwwww
vive la lance: SHUT IT

------------------------------------------------------------

[ SUNDAY ]

Lance stands with his hands on his hips, leaning forward. Keith's arms are crossed over his chest as he mirrors Lance's stance. Their shoulders are squared, foreheads pressed together hard enough to hurt. He can feel Keith pushing against him, but he pushes back with just as much force. There's no way he's backing down first.

Keith is scowling at him, but he scowls right back. Neither of them has blinked in nearly two minutes. Lance knows. He's counting. There's not much else to do in the tense silence.

There's a knock at the door.

"What?!" Both of them snap in unison.

Keith straightens, whipping his head around to look at the door. Lance isn't expecting it. He's still pushing forward. So when Keith's opposing force is gone, he's suddenly falling forward. Keith smoothly steps aside as Lance stumbles forward several steps, arms flailing and muttering curses as he attempts to regain his balance.

He doesn't manage. He falls, catching himself on his hands and knees. "Keith, what the fuck?" He snaps, glaring up at him.

Keith ignores him. "What's up, Shiro?"

Lance rolls onto his ass, crossing his arms and legs and letting his shoulders rise as he pouts. Sure enough, Shiro is standing in the doorway, one hand on the door frame and the other on the doorknob. He looks over the two, eyebrows raised and lips pressed together. "I, uh, just wanted to come check on you guys. We heard a lot of yelling from downstairs."

"We're fine." Keith says at the same time Lance speaks up.

"It's Keith's fault!"

He whips his head around then to glare at him. "How is it my fault?"

Lance ignores him, holding Shiro's gaze as he gestures to Keith. "He's impossible to work with! He's picky! He yells! Nothing is good enough for him! He can't take a joke!"

"You're not taking this seriously!"

"I am! It's been three days! Give me a break!"

"You're still fucking up things we've practiced a dozen times now!"

"Cut me some slack!"

"I thought you were supposed to learn quickly?"

"See what I have to deal with, Shiro?!" They're both yelling now. Lance looks back to Shiro, pointing at Keith. "He's a pain in the ass!"

There's a small smile on the older man's lips, and his brow has relaxed. He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. "Don't I know it. I grew up with him." He says playfully.

"Shiro!" Keith snaps.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Good to see you guys are getting along."

"We're not!" They both yell at the same time before exchanging glares.

"Seriously, Shiro," Lance says after a moment, looking away from Keith. "Have you ever tried to work with him? He's a more demanding teacher than Coran!"

Shiro tilts his head to the side, a thoughtful look on his face. "I have, actually. Though I don't remember him being that bad."

Keith scoffs, tossing his head to get the hair out of his face. Lance glares at him. Fucking Keith. "That's because you're not dead weight."

"Hey!" They both look at him: Keith annoyed and Shiro amused. Lance is struck suddenly with the thought that these two are brothers. They grew up together. He's not sure how he never noticed before. The dynamic between them is so obvious now. It reminds him of the vibe he has with his siblings.

He always saw Keith as some snobby wannabe badass with a superiority complex and a standoffish attitude. Next to Shiro, however, he's starting to see something else. He imagines young Keith, stubborn and pouty, and amused Shiro teasing him, poking at him. A serious and focused Keith trying to show his older brother the dance moves he came up with. Maybe he would be nervous? Shiro is good, after all, and maybe Keith would be aching for his approval. He imagines Keith snapping at Shiro, fixing his positions like he does with Lance, crease in his brows and frown of concentration on his lips. He imagines how Shiro would laugh it off and tease him, infuriate him in a way only older siblings can.

They're talking again, but he hasn't been listening.

"Show me," He says suddenly, getting both of them to turn their attention back to him.

"What?" Keith asks, voice flat and face blank.

Lance feels himself grinning as he sits up straighter, lifting his chin. "Show me a dance you two know."

Keith's brow furrows. "Lance, we don't have time—"

"We were getting nothing done anyway. Shiro's already here. We could use a break. What's the problem?" He tilts his head to the side, lifting his shoulder to meet it as he grins smugly, eyes going half lidded. "Unless you're scaaared—"

"Shiro," Keith says, cutting him off. He turns to his brother. Lance thinks it's hilarious how often that line works. "Do you still remember the dance we learned last year?"

"The Michael Jackson one?"

"Yeah."

"I believe so."

"Let's do it then."

Shiro nods, grinning as he steps into the room. "Alright then. But if Allura asks, I'm helping you two settle your differences."

Keith practically stomps over to where his phone is hooked up to the speakers and points at Lance. "You. Sit. Be silent for once."

Lance laughs, a cocky grin on his face as he practically purrs, "Sir, yessir." He doesn't miss the brief tensing around Keith's mouth, the flare of his nostrils, or the pink that settles on his cheeks. He doesn't know what to think about that, it's probably irritation anyway, so instead he gives Keith a mock salute and slides his ass across the floor so he's sitting against the mirror. He gestures widely as the two of them take up positions in the center of the room. "Alright, WOW me!"

Keith rolls his eyes, but Shiro smiles.

They start when the music does. He's not sure what he was expecting, but he's not disappointed. It's nothing big or flashy, nothing quick paced or wild. But it's together, quick small movements that are perfectly synced or in timed reactions to each other. It's mostly in their legs and body angles, but their arms are in it, too, adding slow movements to their quick steps.

Objectively, Keith and Shiro look nothing alike. Yeah, okay, so they both have some kind of Asian heritage, but their features are nothing alike. Black hair, dark eyes, whatever. Their faces aren't similar at all, and neither are their body types, despite the fact that they both obvious work out. But as Lance watches them dance together, he's struck with just how... similar the two are. It's obvious they're brothers, even if it's not by blood.

They're also both handsome as fuck, and that realization hits Lance like a sixteen wheeler going eighty-five on the highway. It straight up knocks the breath right out of his lungs. Leaves him for dead as roadkill. Flat as a pancake and bleeding out. No need to call an ambulance because he is gone.

He's always known Shiro is attractive. He'd have to be blind not to. Hell, even if he were straight, he'd be able to acknowledge the fact that the man is gorgeous. That's not the part of the realization that leaves him floundering.

No, that honor goes to Keith.

Fucking Keith.

Too bad his personality is ass.

It should be illegal for the two of them to dance together. Straight up illegal. Round 'em up, boys! Lock 'em away! Throw away the key! Let 'em rot in a dungeon forever for punishment of their crimes.

By the time they finish, Lance is reminded just how comfortable he is with his sexuality. He feels like his bones have turned to jelly and his stomach is doing these weird little flips like it's on a trampoline, but hey, at least he can breathe again. He's pretty sure his mouth is hanging open, though.

"Take a video, it'll last longer." Keith says, smirking. God damn, fucking Keith. Isn't Lance supposed to be mad at him?

Lance wonders if Allura has seen the two of them dance. He pulls out his phone. "Can I?"

Keith rolls his eyes, shoving Lance over as he walks back to his phone. Shiro just laughs.

---------------------------------------------------

[ MONDAY ]

"Oh man, I could really go for a milkshake right about now." Lance says, stretching his arms over his head.

Keith snorts, looking away as his shirt rides up, exposing tanned flesh. Lance would get way too much of a kick out of it if he saw Keith looking. Even if it was a natural reaction to look toward movement. That's just way too cliche, and he refuses to fall victim to it.

Is it just him, or is it warm in this stairwell? His throat feels weirdly dry. He must be dehydrated. They did just have a very intensive practice session. Probably their most productive one yet. Their choreography isn't nearly finished, but they got a lot of work done and they didn't devolve into yelling at each other like they normally do. It feels like progress.

"You work out and then immediately want a milkshake."

"Uh, yeah? It totally balances out the calories. Carbs? Sugars? I don't know. It works, okay?" He says, arms, thankfully, falling back to his sides. They're walking down the stairs at the studio. Well, Keith is walking. Lance looks like he's more trudging, putting way too much slump and effort into each step.

Keith rolls his eyes. "It doesn't work like that."

"Oh yeah? How would you know? Are you a nutritionist, Keith? Are you a doctor? Should I call you doctor Keith from now on?" He puts his hand up to his ear like a phone and puts on a high pitched and perky receptionist voice. "Hello? Paging doctor Keith. Come in doctor Keith. We need you in surgery. It's an emergency. The patient? Oh, that would be you. You're scheduled for a mullet extraction stat. We can't afford to wait! Immediate action is the only answer! While we're at it, we might as well get that stick out of your ass. It's so far imbedded that surgery is the only way."

Keith can't help it. He laughs, throwing his head back and putting his hand out on the handrail to help him keep his balance. It takes him a moment before he can continue walking. When he looks back at Lance, he's grinning. "Are you going to be my surgeon?"

Lance nods sagely and seriously. "Of course. I would do that for you, Keith."

Keith rolls his eyes and tries his best to get his grin under control. He's pretty sure he fails, but he hops down the stairs two at a time to put distance between him and Lance. "Good! Cause then I can sue the hospital for malpractice and make a fortune!"

"Hey! I would be a good doctor! I'd save your big dumb head from being consumed by that evil mullet." He calls out, laughter in his voice as he throws himself down the stairs after him.

"Are you a surgeon or an exorcist?"

Keith isn't sure how, but they end up racing down the rest of the way. That tends to happen more often than not: a silent agreement sealed by a spark in Lance's eyes and a subtle smirk from Keith. He's stopped questioning it.

He ends up winning, but Lance's feet land not long after his.

"Seriously, though, haven't you ever like, craved a milkshake or ice cream or something after a good work out?"

Keith shrugs. "I haven't had a milkshake in years." He takes a few steps before he realizes that Lance has stopped. He turns to look at him, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"What'd you mean?" Lance asks, gaping.

"It means I haven't had a milkshake in years."

"Not even a Cookout milkshake?"

"Nope."

"Never?"

"Never.

"Never never?"

"Lance—"

"Oh no, no no no no, we're fixing this right now." And suddenly Lance is walking past him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him down the hallway toward the front doors.

He frowns. His bike is parked out back. "Lance, where are we—"

"I told you we're fixing this!" He says, dragging Keith past a very confused looking Coran who's currently pinning fliers to the main bulletin board. "Hi, Coran. Bye, Coran."

He watches them go, eyebrows raised. He lifts a hand. "Hi, boys. Bye, boys."

Keith shoots him a pleading look, but Coran only smiles and shrugs. So much for help.

Lance drags him out the front doors, slamming them open with way more force than necessary. "Hunk! Pidge!" He calls out, dragging Keith across the parking lot. The two in question are standing around an older looking gold car. Hunk is leaning back against it, arms crossed over his chest, and Pidge is sitting on the trunk, legs crossed. They both look up as they approach.

"Uh, what's up, Lance?" Hunk asks, eyeing Keith curiously. Keith gives him the same helpless pleading look he had given Coran. He actually gets some sympathy out of Hunk, judging from his expression.

"Oh great, what is it this time?" Pidge says

They come to a stop in front of them, and Lance glares at Pidge, lips pursed into a pout. "Hey, I resent that."

"I'll change my tone when you get a better track record for spontaneous ideas."

"Rude."

"So... Lance. Keith? What's up?" Hunk says, reeling them back in.

"Right. So can you guys believe that this guy has never had a Cookout milkshake?" Lance says incredulously, lifting up Keith's wrist and shaking it. "Never! As in never never! We need to fix this! As in stat. As in right now!"

Hunk grins. "A Cookout run? I could go for a milkshake."

"Hunk, my man! My dude! That's what I'm talking about!" Lance says, grinning as he pats Hunk's shoulder. He finally lets go of Keith's wrist, and he pulls it to him, rubbing it absently.

Keith's brow furrows, pressing his lips together. "Do I get a say in this?"

"Nope!" Lance practically sings.

"Sorry, buddy." Hunk says, but doesn't look or sound sorry at all. He pulls his keys out of his pocket, unlocking his car. "Alright, load up. We've got a mission now!"

Lance and Hunk are already opening their car doors when Pidge speaks up. They haven't moved from their perch on the trunk. "Keith, you're lactose intolerant." They say flatly, giving him a look.

He sighs, face twisting into something out of his control as he shrugs helplessly. "This wasn't my idea."

"What?!" Lance practically yells, causing them both to jump. He's staring at Keith with wide eyes. "You're lactose intolerant?!"

"Uh, yeah?"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?"

Keith shrugs again. "You didn't give me a chance."

"But—! What about— Does this mean—? Hunk? Keith!" He's whining and floundering, arms flailing around and gesturing wildly as his mouth opens and closes. He makes a lot of sounds that are probably supposed to be words, but they don't end up that way. About twenty different emotions pass over his expression before his arms drop to his sides, shoulders slumping as he deflates. He's pouting again. "Does that mean no milkshakes?" His voice is small and childlike and full of disappointment.

God dammit. How does he get wrapped up in this shit?

Feeling incredibly uncomfortable when faced with that small frown that looks so out of place on his face, Keith fidgets. He scratches the back of his neck, looking away. "Well, I mean, I have my pills. So it would probably be fine—"

"Really?" Lance brightens right the fuck up, and Keith knows he's not getting out of this one.

He sighs, his turn to be defeated. "Yeah, I guess."

Lance jumps, actually jumps, and fist pumps the air. "Yes!"

Pidge gives Keith a smug little smirk as they hop off the back of the car, eyes glinting. Keith glares at them. Hard. Daring them to say something. They don't, thankfully.

Ten minutes later, after two minutes of arguing over the auxiliary cable (which Lance wins), a terribly loud blaring of Milkshake by Kelis (which Lance and Hunk sing loudly and dramatically with the windows down, leaning Pidge and Keith groaning), another fight in which Lance wants to repeat the song and Pidge nearly comes into the backseat to get the cable from him (Pidge wins and Lance whines), and several more minutes of Pidge's music to drown out Lance's protests (they end up choosing Kamelot, which Keith thinks is pretty tame considering everything Pidge could have chosen from their personal music), they finally make it to Cookout.

"So what kind of milkshake do you want?" Lance asks, leaning across the backseat and getting a little too much into Keith's personal space. Keith can't really push him away though. The menu board is on his side of the car. Lance probably just wants to look at it.

Keith shrugs, leaning against the door of the car. "I don't know." He flounders. He hasn't had a milkshake since he was thirteen. What flavors even existed? "Vanilla?"

Lance gives him a flat glare, completely unamused. "Vanilla? Really?"

"What?" He bristles. "It's a classic." It is, isn't it? "Chocolate?"

Lance groans, sagging a little bit. "Keeeeith, come oooon."

"What's good, then?"

"Literally everything! Look!" Lance leans over him, pointing out the window at the menu board. Keith can smell him. He smells like warmth and sweat, deodorant and just... Lance. By all rights, it should smell bad, but it doesn't. It's making him a little uncomfortable. "Look at all of those flavors! They're so fancy!"

"I'm so fancy..." Hunk softly sings from the driver's seat. The car in front of them moves and they scoot forward a spot.

"Lance, that's not an answer—"

"Actually," Pidge cuts in. "It is, sort of. They actually call them 'fancy' milkshakes." Keith looks at the menu board and, huh, what'd you know. "Anyway, they literally have every flavor under the sun, assuming there are forty-six flavors under the sun, and you can mix and combine them. You can have anything."

Keith feels his lips twist into a frown. There's... a lot of choices. All of the words kind of just blur together. There's too many for him to focus on just one, let alone read and analyze all his choices. The car moves forward, and Hunk pulls up to the speaker.

"Hi, how're you doing today?" Says the crackling voice. Keith still has no idea what he wants. What would even be good? Some of these flavors sound ridiculous. And Lance is still leaning over him, staring intently at the menu board, brows pinched and lips screwed up in thought.

"Doing well, how about you?" Hunk says cheerfully.

"Fine, thanks. What can we get for you?"

"I'll have a chocolate, banana, pineapple milkshake."

Keith scrunches his nose up, lip curling. Lance catches his look, glancing at him sideways as he smirks. "I know, gross, right?" He whispers so the speaker won't pick up his voice.

"Is that even good?"

Lance shrugs. "Who knows. He's a weirdo."

Pidge pats Hunk's arm. "A lovable weirdo, but a weirdo nonetheless. I'm convinced he orders it so we won't steal his milkshake." Hunk snorts, but he's smiling as he points to Pidge. "Mocha oreo."

Hunk repeats the order, then points a thumb over his shoulder. "Lance?"

Lance puts a hand on the back of Hunk's seat, the other planted between him and Keith as he leans over. "Ummmm, Reese's Cup, no—caramel fudge, no! Chocolate chip mint."

Hunk groans. "Make up your miiiind."

"Deff chocolate chip mint." He must have caught Keith's look again, because he turns a playful scowl in his direction. "What?"

"Chocolate chip mint? Really?" Keith's lip is definitely curling.

Lance gasps loudly, putting a hand to his chest and leaning away, finally. "Keith! You're one of those heathens, aren't you?"

Keith snorts. "I could say the same about you."

"Chocolate mint is a godsend!"

"Then I'm going to happily go to hell."

"I knew you were a demon! Your history with Pidge suddenly makes so much more sense."

Pidge laughs, exchanging smirks with Keith.

"Not to interrupt or anything, but what'd you want, Keith?" Hunk says, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

"Uh," Keith looks back to the menu, eyes settling on the first thing that doesn't sound completely terrible. "Peach cobbler?"

That earns him a few curious "ooo's" from around the car.

"Adventurous." Pidge says.

"Living life on the edge, huh, mullet?" Lance adds, nudging him with his elbow.

They get their shakes, and Hunk insists on paying, waving off Keith's attempt to give him a couple dollars. They drive back to the studio with Pidge's metal music blaring, all happily eating their shakes with either a straw or a spoon. Lance is making horrendously inappropriate sounds with each bite, slouching low in his seat and throwing his head back. Keith twists in his seat and kicks him, earning an indignant shout, but they're both smiling.

"How is it?" Lance asks, nodding toward his milkshake. His blue eyes are bright and wide and stupidly innocent with enthusiasm.

Keith shrugs, looking out the window. "It's alright."

"Keeeith!"

Truth be told, it's good, but he's not willing to relent to Lance that easily. As long as he remembers to take his pill, he should be fine.

Lance proceeds to poke at him, and he slaps his hand away. They end up slapping and kicking at each other until Pidge unbuckles their seatbelt and climbs into the back, despite Hunk's loud protests. Pidge ends up sitting between them, wiggling and elbowing them both as they get comfortable. Hunk grumbles at them all, complaining that he feels like a chauffeur now. Which, of course, leads them all to speaking in snooty British accents while backseat driving.

Keith ends up forgetting his pill. It's not fine. But he can't bring himself to regret his decision to go with them.

------------------------------------------------------

[ TUESDAY ]

"Come on, Keith, just jump in there!" Lance says, nudging Keith's shoulder with his own.

Keith barely moves. "Nope."

"Keith!" Lance is whining, and Keith is sure if he looks at him, he'll be pouting, too. Good thing Keith doesn't plan on looking at him. He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Hunk. He's dancing in the center of the loose ring of people, having a vague dance off with a couple of guys who had jumped in with them. Hunk doesn't seem to mind. He's laughing and keeping up with them, exchanging dance moves.

"No." Keith repeats.

"What's the point of even coming out with us if you won't dance?"

Keith has been asking himself that same question. He thinks the reason he didn't say no was because it had been Hunk and Pidge who had asked. He likes Hunk, and he misses hanging out with Pidge. If Lance had asked, he probably would have said no. The guy is beyond obnoxious, and Keith hates relenting to him. He feels like it goes along the lines of enforcing bad behavior with children or pets. He would have just said no out of principle. He wouldn't be here, standing awkwardly off to the sidelines as Hunk, Pidge, and Lance take turns darting into the dance circle, moving to the music in anyway they deem fit.

Unfortunately, it had been Pidge and Hunk who had asked, so Keith had said yes. And now he has to deal with Lance's needling.

Keith shrugs, but doesn't answer, earning a huff from Lance.

"I don't get you." He says, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from Keith. "You act all high and mighty about dancing, you're good at it, but you won't just... do it!"

Keith eyes him sidelong, lips curling into a small smirk. "Was that a compliment in there?"

Lance's eyes widen comically, lips twisting into a frown as he huffs again. "Don't change the subject, David Bowie!"

Keith tilts his head, looking thoughtful. "You know, I don't mind that one so much."

Lance sighs, scratching the back of his neck, other hand on his hip. "Yeah, not my best. I mean, who wouldn't appreciate being compared to David Bowie?"

"Exactly."

The song changes, and there's a brief lull in which the guys shake Hunk's hand and back out of the circle. Hunk waves them off, grinning. Lance perks up at the new song. It's something from Matt's newest playlist, he knows that much. This is the first time he's hearing it, but that's not too surprising. He doesn't usually keep up with Matt's music.

"My turn!" Lance announces, suddenly darting forward. He turns his back to Hunk, bending over and rubbing his ass on him in a dramatically comical way. Hunk throws up his hands, laughing as Lance backs him out of the circle. Then he poses dramatically, holding it for just a second before he's dancing.

Keith is... impressed. And if he's being honest, a little jealous. Lance doesn't look like he even thinks about how he moves. He doesn't seem to get in his own head when he dances like Keith does. He just... goes for it. It looks so free and so natural, and Keith can't help but feel drawn to it. He'll never admit it to Lance, the dude's ego is big enough as it is, but Keith enjoys watching him dance.

That is, until he's making eyes at a group of girls watching, shooting them finger guns and adding a flex to his dancing. Keith sighs, rolling his eyes. God, why does he even associate with this guy? Does he even see how embarrassing he is? He doesn't seem to, as he laughs off the rejection with a flirtatious smile and keeps going.

"Before you ask, he's like this all the time," Pidge says, coming up to stand alongside Keith, arms crossed over their chest. He glances down at them, but they're watching Lance, a small fond smile on their lips. "But he grows on you, I swear."

Keith shakes his head. "I don't know how you've put up with it for this long."

Pidge tilts their chin to glance up at him, smile turning sly. "I stuck with you for longer. That should speak volumes for my patience."

Keith snorts, rolling his eyes. "You had to. I was your only ally against Matt and Shiro."

Pidge hums thoughtfully, tilting their head back to look absently upwards. "We made their lives hell, didn't we?"

Keith smirks. "I sure hope so."

"Sooooo..." He doesn't like the way they say that. "Are you going to dance?"

"No."

"That's kind of the point of coming out here."

Keith shrugs. "I don't know the music."

"So you're saying if I put on some music that you do know, you'd dance?"

"I didn't say—"

"Look, Keith, you can cut the crap with me, alright?" Keith looks at them, eyebrows raised. Pidge is gazing up at them steadily, lips pursed into a small frown. "I know you don't really like dancing in front of others when you're not prepared, okay? Lance may buy your mysterious edge lord shtick, but I don't. I've known you too long for that."

Keith's face scrunches up, and he looks away. "So you know I'm not going to dance."

"Come ooon, Keith." Pidge says, bumping his hip with their own. This sounds remarkably similar, but unlike with Lance, Pidge doesn't fill him with annoyance when they do it. "We came out here to dance. You gotta do it at least once. Lance will never leave you alone if you don't."

Keith snorts, rolling his eyes. "I can handle him."

"Come on, buddy." And suddenly Hunk is there, laying a hand on his shoulder. He normally isn't too big of a fan of contact, but there's something about Hunk that just makes him relax, and he finds he doesn't mind.

He looks up at him, a small frown tugging at his lips as he tries to keep his expression blank. "How long have you been standing there?"

Hunk shrugs, letting his hand drop and scratching at his cheek as he smiles sheepishly. "Not long, but Pidge already told me about your, uh, hangups with freestyling."

Keith shoots a glare at Pidge, and they step back, hands up defensively and grinning. "Whoa, there, before you get angry with me, you should know that Hunk is trustworthy."

Keith glances back to Hunk, skeptical. But he only laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't worry, I'm not going to make fun of your or anything. I won't even tell Lance, if that's what you're worried about."

"Why would I care if Lance knows?" It comes out a little more defensively than he planned. He can't think of any reason why it would be a big deal, but he knows in his gut that he doesn't want Lance to know.

"Because Lance would definitely make fun of you and push you out of your comfort zone." Pidge says matter of factly.

Oh, right. That's why.

"But you should totally do something." Hunk says, nodding toward the dance circle. "Have some fun. It's the whole reason we're out here. You know, kick back, dance in a different environment, have fun with friends."

"Yeah," Keith says, shaking his head. "This isn't really... my thing." He waves a hand around vaguely, gesturing to where Lance is dancing.

"Then let's make it your thing." Pidge says, suddenly gone from his side.

He turns to watch Pidge walk over to where their phone is hooked up to the speaker. "Pidge," He says, voice pitched low with caution. "What are you doing?"

Pidge looks up at him, grin on their face. "Do you remember that dance to Happy by C2C that you choreographed for us a couple years ago?"

Keith wracks his brain for it. He nods slowly. "Yes."

Pidge tilts their head to the side, eyes wide with mischief. "And do you remember it?"

"No?"

"Keith."

He sighs. "Yes."

"Good! Because I do, too. Let's go, edge lord. Let's show these scrubs what we can do." And then they tap their phone and the song changes. The difference is instantly apparently. They had gone from an upbeat remix to something softer, quick, and with words.

There's a startled sound from Lance, and when he looks up, Lance is glaring at them indignantly, lips pursed into frown. He puts his hands on his hips, cocking them to the side. "Pidge! What the hell—"

"Step aside, bean pole." They say, grabbing Keith's wrist and dragging him into the circle.

His eyes settled on Keith, anger morphing into something surprised. He holds up his hands, stepping back to give them space. The cocky grin that Keith hates is firmly in place. "Alright, alright, but only because I gotta see this." And the way he says it doesn't exactly sound like a compliment. Keith glares at him, but his grin only widens. "Show me what you're made of, Keithy boy."

And Keith opens his mouth to say something, but Pidge is tugging at his arm, forcing him to turn around to face them. Their legs are already moving, taking tiny barely there steps with each of the fast beats. They point two fingers at their own eyes before spinning their hand around to point at Keith.

"Focus Keith," They say, face set in determination. A small smirk tugs at their lips. "We got this."

Keith breathes in deep, and lets it out in a long exhale. His feet are moving now, too, mirroring Pidge's quick, small steps. He feels his face relax, and his lips set into a small smile. "Yeah, we got this."

Pidge's smirk widens a fraction, and they lift their hands for a double high five. Keith gives it to them, and then they're both laughing, shaking out their arms and upper body in anticipation as they shuffle backwards with those small, quick steps. They set up next to each other, facing forward.

To be honest, Keith isn't entirely sure he'll remember the dance, but as the music plays, he can feel it coming back to him. Adrenaline floods his system in anticipation, and right as the hard downbeat happens, his body tenses and moves to just the right position: one step forward, shoulders up and back as his arms shoot out. Then they're moving with beat beat, quick precise movements that are jagged and sharp, emphasizing the tempo. His legs get into it, moving to the unique twang of the song.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Pidge moving, too, perfectly in sync with him. He had choreographed this a few years ago, when he was really getting into experimenting with choreography. Shiro brought up that organizing a dance for two was different than a dance for one, and he gave him the challenge of making a dance that would combine the overlapping strengths of his and Pidge's styles. He thinks he did pretty good. Pidge had thought so, too, and put all their effort into committing it to memory. He had thought they would have forgotten it, but he should know better than to doubt the abilities of Pidge's mind.

The dance is quick with a collection of fast, sharp movements and gestures, precise steps. But it's fun. There's a flair of playfulness to it that only comes out because he made this made for him and Pidge. They spent weeks learning it perfectly, and their synergy brings out a bubbling of joy that Keith hasn't felt while dancing in a long time.

Dancing with Lance is fun, when the guy gets the moves right. When he wants to, Lance can keep up with him, locking into the right poses at the right time and synchronizing with Keith to a T.

But it's different with Pidge. He trusts Pidge. He's known Pidge. Pidge knows him. He knows he can trust Pidge to lock their body into each gesture, no matter how quickly it comes and goes. The dance is a perfect mix of their combined styles, but the synergy that brings it alive isn't something that comes from just knowing the moves. It comes from two friends doing something they love together.

When the music picks up, they're flying. Practically bouncing from foot to foot in quick movements that are perfectly aligned. They clap and kick and rotate. They bounce from toes to heels, quick steps and rolling hips.

The audience is screaming. They're loud and cheering, but their noise just blends into the music. Keith is grinning. He feels the ache in his cheeks. The shares glances with Pidge, and they're smiling just as bright, arms up as their feet move. There's a lull in the dance and they laugh, setting up for the next bit with tiny moves like fake playing the piano, feet tapping, building up.

Their movements get sloppier from then on out. Their perfect synchronization falls apart as they laugh and really start to get into it. The audience seems to fade away. And yet despite not being completely together, it doesn't seem to matter. They still go through the same vague motions, and their smiles bring a realness to it.

For once, Keith doesn't care when their choreography falls apart, ripping and faltering before syncing back up again when they both remember the next part. He's just... having fun.

As the last tinks of the piano sound, they go through large, exaggerated steps and gestures, falling back and down into kneeling poses, arms crossed over their propped up knees. And with the last beat, their heads drop.

The audience is cheering, and Keith lifts his head, recalling looking around for the first time. He climbs to his feet, spinning a little to take in the audience. His face feels warm. He's not used to performing in front of a crowd. All eyes are on him, but he doesn't recognize any of them.

And then he locks eyes with a gaze he does know.

Lance's grin is blinding in the afternoon sun. His eyes are crinkled with it, and Keith just knows that smile has to hurt. There's no way it can't. And the force of that gaze is focused solely on Keith. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, slapping Hunk's arm incessantly. His lips are moving, saying something Keith can't hear. Hunk doesn't seem to care. He has Pidge's phone in his hand and he's staring at it intently. Then he looks up and follows Lance's gaze to Keith, face breaking out into a wide grin as he gives Keith a thumbs up.

God, what was it with this group and having brilliant, warm smiles? They were just so... friendly.

Before he can think too much of it, Pidge is suddenly slamming into him. They leap at him, climbing onto his back as he stumbles for balance.

"Keith! That was awesome!" They shout in his ear, settling on his back and locking their legs around his waist. One arm clutches around his shoulders while the other shoots a fist into the air. "We should do that more often! That was amazing!"

Keith chuckles, loudly and freely, giving a little hop to adjust Pidge's weight as his arms locked around their legs to keep them up. "Yeah, that was great." He says earnestly.

"I forgot how much fun your choreography can be." They say, viciously ruffling his hair.

"Hey! Let up on the hair!" He ducks his head away from them as best he can, and they laugh. He tosses his head, trying to get his hair out of his face.

"Stand back, mullet!" And suddenly Lance is there, hip checking him toward the sidelines. "And take your shoulder gremlin with you! Time for the big boys to show you how it's done." As Keith turns to walk away backwards, Lance does the same, headed for the center of the circle. He shoots them finger guns and winks, and Keith rolls his eyes. From over his shoulder, he hears Pidge laugh.

"Someone got jealous of our bro dance." Pidge sings mockingly, wrapping their arms loosely around his shoulders and resting their chin atop his head.

"Hunk's the only bro I need! You're just jealous of our bromance." Lance shoots back, tightening the arms of the shirt that's tied around his waist and checking to make sure his snapback is on securely. He should look like a douche, but he doesn't.

Hunk puts a hand to his chest, the other still holding the phone. "Aww, bro!"

"Love you, bro!" Lance winks, making a heart with his hands.

Hunk's hand goes to his forehead and he leans back as far as he can go without falling over. "Bro! Love you, too, bro!"

Pidge makes gagging noises. "At least Keith and I aren't gross."

Lance puts his hands on his hips, smirking. "I don't know, have you two looked in a mirror lately?"

"Ooh! Good one, Lance!" Hunk laughs.

"I would, but your face cracked them all." Keith deadpans, and Pidge laughs.

They hold a fist over his shoulder and he lifts a hand from their leg to bump it.

"Whatever! Roll the track, Hunk!" Lance says, pointing dramatically at him.

Hunk does just that, and Uptown Funk starts to play.

Keith groans softly. "Not this one again."

"Again?" Pidge asks over his shoulder.

"Shiro made me and Lance do the dance to this we learned last year in that dance class we had together."

Pidge snorts. "I know exactly what they're doing. Lance didn't like the dance you guys learned for that. He said it wasn't hype enough, or something. Too easy. So he and Hunk tried to choreograph a new dance for it. Key word here being tried."

Keith exhales a short, sharp laugh. He can see Lance doing that. "It didn't go well?"

"I didn't say that. But they're not exactly the... choreograph type. Especially with Lance. Dude's the walking embodiment of 'winging it'."

Lance is skipping around the edge of the circle, clapping his hands with the music and encouraging the audience to do the same. They do, because Lance is oddly charismatic when he wants to be and crowds are suckers for a clapping beat. Even if they're terrible at keeping time.

The lyrics start and Lance practically jumps into the center, body flailing in dance-like movements that Keith thinks are supposed to go with the beat. Then Hunk is there, running past him and Pidge to jump in front of Lance to do his own quick set of moves. Lance even takes a step back to let him. After a moment, Lance surges forward, putting a hand on Hunk's shoulder to pull him back, making room for himself. Hunk does the same, like they're fighting for the spotlight, which honestly doesn't seem like Hunk at all.

Then they turn to face each other, arms out like they're going to fight. They freeze, look to the audience, and then they're doing body rolls at the same time, grinning wildly.

And that's when Keith realizes it's a planned back and forth.

They continue a lot like that. They take turns going through their own dance moves before the other steps forward to be the center of attention. Occasionally they exchange fake hits that miss by miles, but to which the other will fake stumble or whip their head around like it had landed. All the while neither of them stops moving to the beat.

Unlike Pidge and Keith, their movements are rolling and energetic, the flinging of limbs and bodies in a style that just seems so natural and uncoordinated. It's not precise. It's wild and loose. But Keith is impressed with how well they manage to keep their movements in time anyway. Neither of them ever drop a beat. It's all crazy gestures and cliche moves that fit together so perfectly and naturally, and despite each of them mostly doing their own thing, it clicks together in a form of synergy that leaves Keith baffled and impressed.

Then they're rolling their hips, taking steps to rotate in a circle, throwing their hands up with the "woo's", and the crowd is screaming and laughing. Pidge is cheering in his ear, and even he's smiling. The song builds to the chorus and they're flailing and gesturing in a way that looks partially planned but mostly improvised, but their gestures are so similar that it doesn't even matter.

They actually have a choreographed dance for the chorus, and Keith is actually surprised. The two of them manage to retain their loose and wild style but do so in complete sync.

As the song goes on, it starts to fall apart. They go back to dancing in a way that's so similar, but so unique. They're both laughing and grinning, high fiving and play fighting. It's clear that they're feeding off each other's energy in a way reminds Keith of him and Pidge. But it's different because they're different. Different people and so a different dynamic, but the feeling is the same. The way they dance together reminds Keith of their banter, playful and comfortable, both with wild energy and just general good vibes.

By the end of the song, the whole circle has devolved. Somehow the combined energies of Lance and Hunk, coupled with their combined relaxed style of dance, has managed to pull people into the circle until it's just a mob of moving bodies. Even Keith is bobbing up and down, stepping in side strides and purposefully bouncing Pidge on his back. Pidge laughs in his ear, clinging to him with their legs as they lean back to dance with their arms and hands. He turns in a circle, stepping with the beat and moving as much as he can with Pidge on his back. It's easier when no one is paying attention to him, when it's just movement of his legs in a half assed dance.

As he turns, he catches Lance's eyes through the crowd. His smile widens when he sees Keith, and he gestures them closer. Keith edges through the crowd toward them, and Lance sidles up in front of him. Their eyes lock and they mirror each other as they slide step from side to side. Lance's eyes are half lidded as he hold's Keith's, lips locked in a small smirk that has his stomach doing odd flips. With each step, he sidles a little closer, and Keith blames the warmth on his face on the sun.

Then Pidge is whispering in his ear, and Keith grins. He sees the moment Lance's movement hesitates, suspicion suddenly clouding his features as he looks at the two of them.

Before he can back away, Keith spins. In the middle of his turn, Pidge launches themselves off his back and onto Lance, who shrieks and stumbles backwards. They go down in a tangle of limbs, Lance continuing to shriek as he tries to push PIdge off, who only laughs and digs their fingers into his sides. Lance's desperate flailing increases tenfold as his shrieks go up in pitch. Keith laughs so hard that he has to lean on Hunk for support, though he, too, is bent at the waist, hands on his knees as a deep bellied laugh bubbles out of him.

Keith can't remember having this much fun in a long time.

Notes: 

Their audition song will be posted with the next chapter