Tuesday
6 Days Until The Deal Expires
—
Keith had left he and Lance's meetup with an uneasy feeling at the bottom of his stomach and a bad taste in his mouth. Removing his glasses and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, he had walked back to his dorm blurry-eyed and mentally exhausted.
Face-planting onto his bed, he fell into an elaborate dream. But just as he began to make sense of the flashing lights and flailing limbs, the dream detached itself from his grasp as he blinked back into the real world.
His face was buried in one of his pillows, drool pooling onto the case. With a groan, Keith lifts himself onto his elbows and wipes his hand across his wet cheek. He kicks away the sheets—his white sheets, thank gosh—from his body and sits up.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Shiro greets when he notices Keith had finally awoken from his death-like slumber.
"Shiro? What time—"
"Uh...one thirty seven," his roommate answers as he glances down at his phone. He looks back up at Keith with a bemused expression. "And how was your one thousand hour nap?"
Keith frowns, faintly remembering he had gone to bed right after meeting up with Lance. He practically slept in the entire day with an exception of Shiro shaking him awake to eat some "lunch" (a ham sandwich) near 5 PM and dinner (two slices of pizza) around 10 PM.
"Shut up. I had a rough morning," Keith retorts with a glare.
Unaffected, Shiro smiles and nods, looking down to the MacBook in his lap. "Of course you did—I mean, after that party on Sunday and all,"
Keith's eyes widen, all his tiredness suddenly seeping out of his body. "What party?" He asks frantically.
Shiro sends him a confused glance, cocking his head to the side. "The one I assumed you went to?" He answers.
Keith's shoulders slump as he lets out a sigh. So Shiro doesn't know anything then. Damn.
"Oh, right," Keith mutters.
Shiro only hums in retaliation, clicking at his keyboard before shutting it and shuffling out of bed. "I'm gonna head out. There's still pizza in the mini." He says as he swings his bag over his shoulder.
Before Keith could say anything, Shiro is out the door and slamming it shut.
Sighing deeply, and rather melodramatically, Keith drags himself out of bed and forces himself to change out of his clothes he had only worn to one class yesterday. (God, that's gonna bite him in the ass later, isn't it? He had missed two other classes.)
His hoodie, which he had sweat feverishly in amidst his sleep, was tugged off and his jeans were thrown into the dirty laundry pile forming at the foot of his bed. He pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and some random band t-shirt he found not to be as dirty as any of the others. (He desperately needs to do laundry soon.)
Glad (and much relieved) he only had that one economics class later this afternoon, Keith grabbed his MacBook from his desk and crawled back into his bed. Legs crossed underneath him, he places the MacBook in his lap and flips it open, fingers hovering over the keys expectantly. He types in his password quickly, eyes squinting as he did so.
"Shit," he mutters when he instinctively goes to push his glasses up his nose, only now realizing he didn't even have them on. He abandons his laptop for a quick second, placing it down onto his bed as it began to boot up.
He leans over the end of the bed and lifts his sheets, searching for his glasses. When he doesn't find them, he gives out a frustrated huff, whispering, "I don't have time for this!" in an annoyed tone.
He gives his sheets a shake, pulling them up and about into the air. Unceremoniously, the glasses plop down onto the mattress, the metal frame clinking against itself softly.
"Eureka." Keith blurts uselessly, grabbing the pair of glasses and slipping them on. His eyesight improves immensely as he scowls at himself, embarrassed for not having noticed their obvious absence earlier.
He settles back into his previous position, legs crossed and MacBook on his lap. His finger dances over the mousepad gently before stopping on safari and giving it a double click. Immediately, Keith starts to type. I-n-s—
Instagram pops into the search bar with only three letters, redirecting Keith to the website when he presses enter. Already logged in, Keith goes to his profile, searching for any clue to what happened on Sunday night.
He only finds one blurry picture he must've drunkenly uploaded—one of him and Lance, their cheeks flush against each other as they both sported face-splitting grins. The caption is only a jumble of letters and one decipherable word.
werghot machibf tattoos.
Keith cringes, an embarrassed blush reddening his cheeks as he scrolls through the comments. They're mostly all playful jabs from other classmates, saying things like "i didnt know keith could have fun." A good handful of them, however, were awfully...lewd.
Shuddering, Keith shakes away the thought that just came to him and deletes the picture. Him and Lance? That's...no. No, thanks.
Quickly, Keith makes over to Lance's profile, snooping. He scrolls down a couple of recent pictures from yesterday and finds some from Sunday.
There's one of Lance and Allura in a dimly lit hallway and Keith finds himself faintly recognizing their outfits as they posed for said picture. (Caption: party time!!) The next one is Lance holding a red solo cup to his lips, mischievous glint in his eyes. (Caption: refreshing ;))
The last one, well...the last one is what gets Keith to bury his face in his hands, cheeks glowing hotly.
It's their tattoos. Broadcasted shamelessly to the people of Instagram—Lance's hefty thousand-something following. Their shirts are lifted up their torsos and their jeans are pulled down slightly, showcasing their v-lines.
Their hips, Lance's right and Keith's left, are pressed against each other, tattoos on full display. LANCE on Keith and KEITH on Lance.
The caption is a simple heart emoji, one that stirs something deep inside Keith—frustrates him to no end. He doesn't know how to feel about this anymore. He wants to be angry. He wants to feel bad about what he's done.
Right now, he just feels...not much of anything.
A loud knock on his door is what catches his fleeting attention, being followed by the calling of his name. Blinking, Keith unfreezes and peels his eyes away from his laptop, picking it off his legs and setting it back down on his bed. He pads over to the door and swings it wide open, just wanting the knocking to stop already.
The sight laid out in front of him is surprising, if not a bit embarrassing, to say the least.
Because it's Lance with a big, dumb grin playing his lips and a plastic bag clutched between his fingers. He stands not even a foot away from the doorway (he's so close), catching and holding onto Keith's stare with a knowing crinkle in his eye. (His eyes are blue. Like the ocean, but that's a bit cringe to say out loud, isn't it?)
"Lance. What are you doing here?" Keith hisses on instinct, feeling his face warm in a fumbling mess of emotions. God, what if someone saw him? Does he think this is funny?
"Hey, buddy. Nice to see you too," Lance starts with a drawl, voice high and teasing. Before Keith could bark out some default insult, he holds up the plastic bag in his hand. "Don't worry, I come bearing gifts,"
Handing the bag over, Lance slips past Keith and into the dorm. Keith, speechless and confused out of his mind, stares after him as he makes himself comfortable on Keith's bed.
Keith squints and finally comes to his senses, shutting the door closed and hesitantly making his way over to Lance. "What's this?" He asks timidly, raising an eyebrow.
Lance looks away from Keith's open laptop, pursing his lips. "Think of it as...a peace offering. I just—I don't want things to be...weird between us," he says honestly.
Keith nudges at his glasses. "It's kinda late for that," he says as he peeks into the bag. A pack of Oreos, Sour Patch kids, and two cans of Red Bull. "...But thanks, I guess."
Lance nods curtly, understanding. Things weren't just going to go back to normal after what happened. They weren't going to bounce back anytime soon and it seemed like Lance understood that these things took a bit of time, especially for Keith.
"I—I actually hadn't even thought to, uh, check anything...I—I should delete that, shouldn't I?" Lance then says as he points to Keith's MacBook. Keith follows his finger to the embarrassing picture on Lance's Instagram.
"There was a stupid picture on mine too. I deleted it, but...people...It's been seen. Yours too. It won't make much of a difference anyway...What's done is done," Keith replies gloomily, taking a seat next to Lance.
Lance quickly fishes his phone from his pocket, thumbing the home button. "I'll do it anyway, so no more people will be able to," he says.
Keith huffs and rips open his gifted bag of Sour Patch Kids, the material crinkling loudly as he watched Lance's fingers maneuver through his apps. His eyes fall for the floor. "Do...Do you think Allura saw the pictures?" He asks nervously, already dreading the answer.
Lance glances up from his phone, sporting an apologetic look. "Yeah," he says simply, not bothering to sugar-coat it. Keith's stomach lurches as he pops a candy into his mouth.
"Right...Have you talked to her at all?" Keith presses.
Lance clicks his phone off, setting it aside on the bed. "Not really. You?" He holds out his palm and Keith drops a few candies into it.
"Hell no. And I don't plan to anytime soon. I can't face her right now, not until I know it's safe. After you tell her," he answers automatically, lips curled into a frown as his eyebrows scrunched in distaste.
Lance then gives a melodramatic sigh, grabbing Keith's MacBook and setting it in his lap. "Whatcha' doing here besides stalking my Insta?"
Keith throws him a glare and takes his laptop away from him. "I was trying to figure out what the hell happened Sunday night. Why I went to a party, why I let you tattoo your name onto me, and why the hell I slept with you out of all people," Keith listed aggressively.
Lance snorts a laugh, raising his hands in mock defense. "Hey, I'm quite the catch. Plus, first one's easy. Allura and I convinced you to come,"
Keith purses his lips, staring at Lance incredulously. "Okay...well, how about the second one?" He asks.
Lance's expression turns sheepish as he nervously rubs the nape of his neck. "Ha, yeah...I have no clue,"
Keith lets out a frustrated sigh, wiping his face in an exhausted manner. "Never in a million years did I think I'd get someone's name tattooed onto me. Much less have them do it themselves. That's like, the number one rule when it comes to getting tattoos,"
Lance only offers a shrug and a small smile. "Honestly, me neither. Especially not drunk or high or whatever the hell we were that night."
Keith chuckles dryly, popping another sour candy into his mouth. "Yeah...Where'd we even get the equipment to do that shit? There had to be someone at that party, right?"
Lance furrows his eyebrows, nodding along. "Yeah..." he agrees, a faraway look in his eye. He had drifted off into some place in his mind in search for some type of answer.
Suddenly, he raises his pointer finger, shaking it vigorously as his eyes widen and he turns back to Keith. "Y'know what? I know someone," he says accusingly, softly patting Keith's shoulder with the back of his hand. "My friend Pidge has this brother—Matt, his name is. He's an amateur tattoo artist. An apprentice at Altean Ink,"
Keith blinks in surprise. "Matt as in Matt Holt?"
Lance nods enthusiastically. "Yeah! D'you know him?"
"Well, sort of. He's practically my roommate's boyfriend with how much they hang out," Keith replies, half-heartedly gesturing towards Shiro's bed across the room.
"Okay, well, I think I know where his dorm is, I've been there once or twice with Pidge. And if it wasn't him then he's bound to know who. He's always at those kinds of parties," Lance says, standing up.
Keith follows after him, plopping his "peace offerings" down onto his bed and quickly adjusting glasses. "Alright, let's go then." He says, remembering to swipe his keys from off his desk.
Lance nods and starts for the front door as Keith toes on his shoes, tucking the laces in to avoid having to tie them. When he looks up again, he freezes.
The door is wide open, a confused Allura and a surprised Lance standing at the doorway, eyes fixed on each other. Allura blinks away first. "Um, hi?" she smiles, letting her fist drop from the air and fall back down to her side. She stares Keith down in confusion, tilting her head. "What's going on?"
Keith's heart thrums in his throat.