Keith and Shiro waited for Lance and Allura by the bar. Keith was drinking from a flask that his father had given him for his birthday (it had been in his mailbox at home), silver with constellations etched into it and Shiro had a vodka tonic. Keith didn't know what he'd do when he saw Lance, but he knew that bursting into tears wasn't an option. He was still thinking back to Lance's dance, still amazed.
The dancers started walking into the foyer, less crowded now because a lot of the attendees had left after the recital, and Shiro and Keith sat up straighter, looking for their significant others in the wave of dancers. Keith recognized all of the acts walking by, several of them still wearing their costumes from the last act, which had been amazing. The entire cast had come onstage and done a modern version of the last dance in 'A Chorus Line', complete with dazzling gold short shorts, fishnets, and tiny top hats. The eye-high kicks were Keith's favorite, and Lance even had a solo in the middle, which was pretty cool.
Allura spotted the two first, then dragged Lance over to the bar with her, sporting a black mini-dress and a large floppy witch hat. Her hair was regaining some of its curls as she bounced up to Shiro. Lance, in his fourth outfit of the evening, was wearing his Harley Quinn outfit as promised: a long-sleeved crop top, half black and half red, and then leggings that were the opposite, both with scattered patterns of the suit of diamonds everywhere. Lance's lips were black and his hair was damp, but brown again. Keith assumed that he had washed the paint out of it.
Keith smiled broadly at Lance, pulling him in by his waist. "You were amazing out there. I'm... so impressed." He kissed Lance on the cheek, not wanting to smudge his boyfriend's lipstick.
"Thank you," Lance said happily, hands on Keith's shoulders as he leaned into him, sighing. "I'm pretty tired, but a few shots should fix that. What did you think of my solo?" The couple ignored Shiro and Allura sucking face next to them as Lance hopped into the stool next to Keith's. Keith remembered his bouquet.
"I thought it was incredible. You're really talented, love." Keith pulled out the flowers and handed them to Lance, who buried his nose in the purple petals. He ordered a shot of whiskey for Lance and pushed a $10 on the table for the bartender.
"I'm glad you liked it. The flip was a little scary, so I'm glad I landed it." Keith nodded vigorously. The two chatted together until Shiro and Allura had stopped their make-out session, and then the four talked together with Allura sitting on Shiro's lap, his arms wrapped around her stomach. Shiro went to the snack table, returning with a mountain of sugar-filled sweets and punch, and the group took turns trying weird combinations, including mini hot dogs with frosting, ketchup on cupcakes, and pretzels soaked in punch. It was disgusting but good at the same time, and the drunken DJ cranked the music a little too loud, making the group have to shout at each other to get their words across.
Keith stepped back after his flask was half-way done- Shiro and Allura could take a cab home, but he had to drive Lance on his motorcycle. It was actually pretty funny to see Lance so drunk because he was the giggly kind of drunk, all smiles and kissing Keith on his ears and nose, leaving black smudges everywhere. At one point, Lance challenged Shiro to an arm-wrestling match, and after putting in a half-decent effort, nearly fell off his stool in defeat as Shiro easily pushing his wrist to the bar. Scrambling up to his feet, Lance pressed his palms into Shiro's pectoral's, eyes wide. Keith felt a flare of jealousy flare through his veins and his eye twitched.
"You're ROCK SOLID, Shiro." Lance squeaked, promptly punching Shiro in the stomach. To Keith's shock and immense relief, Shiro didn't even flinch, he just looked down at his stomach, then lifted up his shirt to modestly reveal a toned six-pack. Keith instinctively flexed his own stomach, self-consciously pushing his fingertips into his stomach to feel the hard surface. Allura was looking between him and her boyfriend, a small smile on her lips. Lance was now trying to push Shiro out of his seat, and failing miserably as Shiro just sat there, like a tall, hot rock with a bleached swatch of hair. Curiously out of breath, Lance finally slumped against Shiro, shouting over the music, "Concede defeat, sir! You have been conquered!" Keith broke into laughter as Lance's voice cracked on the 'conquered', and Lance was too drunk to be embarrassed.
The after-party went on for about an hour and a half before people started to leave, and Allura and Shiro walked with Keith and Lance out to the parking lot. It was cold out so Keith gave Lance his hoodie which caused a chorus of "Awww!"'s from Shiro and Allura, their arms around each other for warmth. Keith was lucky that the studio wasn't that far away from his apartment, but he still felt bad that he would have to make Lance cold. He was used to the cold air, but he knew Lance preferred warm weather.
After arranging plans for the next Voltron practice (three days later), the two couples parted and Keith watched Shiro and Allura walk quickly to Shiro's heated car. He felt bad for Lance, but he hoped to be able to make it up to him the next day with a hot bath or something. Maybe he'd even let Lance paint his nails, a weird dream of his boyfriend's. The two boys hopped on the motorcycle and Keith sped home, one hand on Lance's arms around his stomach to make sure he didn't slip or do anything stupid. Lance was known for doing stupid things, so Keith was very careful now, especially because of the factors a.) Drunk Lance and b.) Exhausted Lance were added in.
Keith weaved quietly through shortcuts he'd discovered, something he normally wouldn't be able to get away with in the daytime, and they were at the apartment in no time. Keith helped Lance off the motorcycle, getting the flowers (once again) out of the hatch in back, and carried both his boyfriend and the bouquet inside, giving into Lance when he asked for a piggyback ride up the stairs. Keith's legs shook two flights in, but he was determined to get to the top, even if it meant he'd be sore the next day. Lance was warm on his back, as usual, and his breath on his neck tickled. Keith finally reached his apartment, and he let Lance down to unlock his door.
"Where are my-" Keith dug into his pockets, but the only things that met his fingers were gum wrappers and a tube of chapstick. Keith almost had a mini heart attack before Lance suddenly stepped in front of him, dangling his keys in front of his face, and Keith remembered that he had given Lance his hoodie, which, surprise, surprise, had his keys in it. Lance laughed, high and breathy, before insisting that he unlock the door, which took several minutes with his clumsy hands, but Keith wasn't going to rush him. It was a relatively reasonable time (almost midnight), but Keith only had one class the next day, Wednesday, and it was in the afternoon so he and Lance would be able to sleep in because Lance didn't have classes in general since it was the day after the recital and the studio knew that the dancers needed rest. Keith thought that was considerate.
The two walked into Keith's apartment (or, more of, Keith walked and Lance stumbled), and Keith gently helped Lance out of his clothes, wiping his makeup off with a wet dishcloth, then kissed him on the cheek and tucked him into bed, feeling embarrassingly like a mom, before taking care of himself. It took a good amount of time to scrub off all of his face paint, and Keith's face was beet red by the time he finished. He shrugged off his costume, letting it fall to the bathroom floor, then walked to his bedroom, sighing as he slipped into bed. Lance was immediately on top of him, warmer than the blankets themselves, arms over Keith's chest, just like how they had slept back at Keith's house.
Keith wondered if they would be sleeping like this all the time now. He wasn't complaining- Lance's bare chest felt smooth and satiny and his stomach rose and fell against Keith's in a weirdly calming way. Keith traced over Lance's back with his hands, and he felt the birthmarks and ripples of muscles. Keith closed his eyes and held his breath, just listening. The sound of Lance's breathing... that was probably the most relaxing, relieving sound in the world.
Keith curled his arms around Lance tighter. He never wanted anything bad to happen to him, and right there, as the moon was in the top of the sky, shining over the apartment complex and Keith's shabby sheets, with Lance's caramel brown skin against Keith's pale complexion, Keith promised that he'd do all he could to keep Lance happy and safe. He wanted to stay with this boy. He wanted Lance to stay with him too.
Sighing into the curve of Lance's neck Keith felt sleep drift over him, and his mind eventually gave in.
...
"WEEE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, MY FRIEEEND, AND WEEE'LL KEEP ON FIGHTING, 'TIL THE END," Keith scream-sang into the microphone, and then Shiro joined in, smashing his drums with gusto.
"WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, NO TIME FOR LOSERS, 'CUZ WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS... OF THE WOOORLD." Shiro finished with an intensely loud drum roll before ending with a crash of the symbol. Pidge whooped loudly and Hunk nodded enthusiastically. Shiro wiped some sweat from his forehead.
"Queen is freaking awesome to play," Hunk admitted, having previously been otherwise opinionated.
"Of course it is!" Keith yelled, breathing heavily. His fingers ached but now, after not playing for a solid week and a half, he was eager to keep on practice.
"Guys, we're gonna crash Battle of the Bands," Hunk said confidently, setting his bass down.
Shiro nodded, "Hell yeah, we are. But let's talk about how we're actually gonna crash it." He stood up from his drum set and stretched. "Hunk, you've booked our spot, right?"
Hunk flashed thumbs-up, "We're playing second-to-last."
"Good, good," Shiro mused. "And we're taking your van to get there. We have..." he hesitated and counted on his fingers, then rolled his eyes, "Not a lot of time to get everything nailed. You're all off work the weekend we're going, right?" The group nodded. Shiro suddenly looked back at his drumset and frowned. "Don't we need 'Voltron' on the bass drum?" he asked.
"On it," Hunk said, running upstairs for what Keith assumed paint or markers or something artsy and crafty. Pidge flopped onto the couch.
"We knew what song we're doing, right? We decided?" Keith nodded.
"I hope I can pull it off," Keith said, sighing as he looked down at his guitar. Shiro put a hand on his shoulder.
"You'll be fine," Shiro assured him, smiling comfortingly.
"Thanks, man."
...
When Keith came home from practice, Lance was raking the lawn in front of their apartment. Keith stepped off his motorcycle, smiling at Lance, puzzled. "What are you doing?" He asked his boyfriend, curious.
"I'm raking, what does it look like I'm doing, genius," Lance said playfully, looking proudly at his pile of leaves.
Keith took the rake and kissed Lance's chin, "That's cute, babe." And so they ended up raking the entire front lawn of Keith's apartment building, but only to the promise of being able to jump in when they finished. It wasn't a very big pile, but Lance dove in anyway, followed by Keith, both laughing hysterically as leaves crunched up into their clothes and under their shirts. In the midst of autumn, they kissed each other hard and fierce before breaking up into laughter again, shoving leaves into the air like little kids.
When they finally crawled out of the leaves, they were covered in dirt and debris, which only made them laugh harder as they shoved each other up the stairs. At the top, Keith looked at Lance.
"How 'bout a bath?" Lance blinked.
"Like, together?" he asked, picking a leaf out of Keith's hair.
Keith bobbled his head, embarrassed, and he knew his entire face was red. Whatever.
Lance nodded shyly, then pushed Keith into the apartment.
...
Instead of leaves, Keith and Lance now settled in bubbles. Facing each other in the claw-foot bathtub in Keith's bathroom, Keith leaned his head back against the curve of the tub, soaking in the warmth of the tub.
"I can't remember the last time I took a bath," Lance said quietly, scooping up a mountain of bubbles in his palms. Keith peeked at him with one eye, then slid down further in the tub. He felt Lance's legs against his own and blushed. He hoped the bubbles hid his burning cheeks.
The entire bathroom smelled like rose petals, thanks to the bubble-bath solution Keith always had on hand. Lance had dunked his head under and now his hair was slicked back in a carelessly attractive way. Keith wondered how he had landed with someone so amazing. Lance leaned over and placed the bubble mountain on Keith's hair and grinned, shaping it with his hands.
"You're George Washington," Lance giggled, and Keith rolled his eyes, then stuck some bubbles to Lance's chin.
"And you're Santa." Lance slid forward and settled on top of Keith's chest. His skin was even warmer in the steaming bath, even if it was a lot more slippery.
The two dozed in the tub until the water was cold.