Chapter Text
Keith would never be able to describe perfectly the feeling he had during his first flight. His first time in a helicopter, he was the one controlling it (of course, his instructor was doing most of the work, but still). Twenty one years old and he was flying a helicopter! It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t too loud. It wasn’t even that hard. He spent the entire flight just thinking how cool it was that he got to be a thousand feet in the air. And the cooler thing was that school’s helicopters were one of the smallest kinds of helicopters there was, which made them more dangerous. But Keith was told “if you can learn how to fly these little Robinsons, you can fly anything.” And God , that was just the most exciting thing he’d ever heard. He’ll remember that first day for the rest of his life.
But right now. He would do anything just for that spark of adoration again. The feeling of flying with the doors off, his hair flying everywhere. The thrill of his instructor starting an autorotation and Keith having to land without engine power. Last semester, Keith felt unstoppable. Now though, now Keith would do anything just for someone to let him stop.
He’s burnt out. Exhausted. He’s done nothing but eat, sleep, and breathe helicopters for the last year and he just wants a goddamn break.
His study at the library is interrupted by the slam of books on his table. Pidge is here. She must be early, they weren’t supposed to meet until five. He checks the clock behind him and oh. It’s thirty minutes past. How long has he been here? Too long.
“Sup nerd,” she greets. “Ew are you drawing systems? Yuck.”
Keith throws his marker at her. He had been doodling the fuel system on one of the library’s whiteboards, not because he really needed to, but because pictures were easier to memorize than words.
Pidge was also a pilot but dual rated, meaning she has a few licenses in both planes and helicopters. Her dad had flown planes in the military and her brother was a helicopter instructor at the school they were at. Pidge had almost unlimited training opportunities because her dad’s veteran bill was paying for everything and she decided to take advantage of it and was knocking out certificates left and right.
“Quiz me on airspace?” Keith asks her.
See, the flight program was set up into five semesters, Keith was in the middle of his third. There were both flight tests and ground tests taken throughout each semester. The flying parts were way easier than ground knowledge, Keith thought so at least. The ground knowledge consisted of how to read weather charts, each internal system of the helicopter, emergency procedures, rules and regulations both from the school and the FAA.
It was overwhelming. And the worst part? Keith had passed his first big test. Which meant he had gone straight from feeling like the smartest, best, most knowledgeable pilot ever, into feeling dumb again after being given brand new material. He’s being crushed. He also has a reputation as one of the best first year pilots the school has seen in a long time, not that he really gives a shit about it, but it’s hard not to feel the stares of the other students, even instructors, when he’s in the hangar.
He and Pidge spent an hour quizzing each other back and forth. Although he didn’t feel he was very helpful to her, considering she’s a semester ahead of him and also a tutor, meaning she already knows the answers to his questions before he can even finish asking them.
“Your rival just got here.” Pidge said, looking up from Keith’s notebook.
They were not rivals. Lance joked about how he was going to be better than Keith and outfly him (whatever that means– it’s not like you can measure flying). But they were friends. There was banter and teasing and insults, but they were friends. Recently, the friendly bullying had kind of started to feel more like flirting, but Keith did not have the brain power to figure out what Lance means by it and it is currently taking everything inside of him not to overthink it and let hope take control. Lance is just a flirty guy. He probably isn’t actually attracted to Keith. Just dudes being bros.
“You guys busy tonight?” Lance starts. Keith finally looks up, Hunk is next to Lance, both of them holding their backpacks. Hunk gives Keith a small wave when they make eye contact, Keith raises his hand slightly in response. “A Twilight marathon and mimosas will be at my place if you’re interested.”
Lance says this last part looking right at Keith, but Pidge answers. “You know, just walking into the library with your backpack doesn’t count as actual study, you actually have to open your books.”
“Oh ha ha,” Lance responds, directing his attention back to Pidge, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Yeah, Hunk and I walked all the way here with our heavy ass books just on the off chance we might run into guys so we could invite you to come over and get drunk. No dumbass, we were studying upstairs and saw Kevin’s stupid hair on our way down. And this seemed safer than texting while walking down more stairs. Are you guys coming or not?” Lance looked back at Keith. His eyebrows were raised just slightly, and a small, expectant smile was playing on his lips.
About a week into Keith and Lance coming to the mutual understanding that they’re friends, Lance told Keith that he doesn’t look like his name should be Keith. Lance then proceeded to greet him differently almost every single time they were in the same general area. The most annoying thing about it was the lack of structure. Keith never knew when he would be Keith or Issac or Sheldon or Jackson or some other bullshit regular white guy name Lance picked out, despite Keith not being a regular white guy. And, yeah, he supposes he could just stop responding to Lance unless he calls him by his real name, but Keith secretly thought it was funny. Also, he tried that once and Lance became a hundred times more annoying.
“I’m in, if we skip the third movie,” Pidge says.
“Deal. Conner?”
“Uh,” Keith starts, graceful as ever. He supposes it is Friday. He’s got nothing going on the rest of the night or tomorrow. And he had spent roughly seven hours at the library today, he could use a break. Also, maybe the most important thing, he really liked orange juice. Also also, he really liked Lance. But no one needs to know that part. “Sure, I’ve never seen them though, so if we’re skipping one, you’ll have to fill me in.”
“Excellent, let’s go.”
Keith was given a few minutes to pack up his books and supplies before following the rest of them down stairs and out the doors into the brisk evening air.
Keith either had a much lower tolerance than he thought since the last time he drank, or Hunk was heavy handed when pouring the mimosas. He liked being tipsy, it was fun. He wasn’t a huge fan of being drunk. Right now, he was sitting somewhere in between, leaning towards drunk. And also leaning towards Lance.
They were halfway through the second movie. Keith had no idea what was really going on with the plot, but the soundtrack was good so he wasn’t complaining. Everything was also funny. He was pretty sure these movies weren’t supposed to be funny, but Keith was snorting after almost every line.
No one had really stayed sitting in one place throughout the night. Hunk had set out a small snack tray in the kitchen and they all sort of rotated between pieces of furniture in between their journeys to refill drinks or grab more snacks.
Currently, Hunk, Lance, and Keith sat on the couch while Pidge was curled up in the armchair on Keith’s other side. They had been like this for about twenty minutes if Keith had to guess, but it felt like an eternity.
Being in this kind of tipsy, mostly drunk state that he was in, Keith was hyper aware of every little touch between him and Lance. Their arms were pushed up against one another and Lance had tossed some of his blanket onto Keith’s lap which only made Keith extremely conscious of the slight tapping of Lance’s knee, each thump sending sparks from Keith’s own knee up to his lungs, making it hard to breathe.
There was no reason for them to be sitting this close to each other. Keith had plenty of space between him and the arm of the couch, and he doubted Lance and Hunk were pressed this close. And normally this kind of contact would make Keith a little uncomfortable, but something about Lance just made it easy. Or maybe it was the alcohol. It was probably the alcohol.
Keith could feel himself getting hot. This was why Keith didn’t like being drunk. He just felt touchy and warm the whole time and it usually wasn’t an issue but one more drink in him and he might do something stupid like hold Lance’s hand. One of the characters in the movie took his shirt off and cradled the main girl after she crashed a motorcycle and Keith felt his temperature rise even more. He lifted the blanket from his lap, snickered a little as he gently put it over Lance’s face, and made his way to the kitchen with his cup.
He poured the world’s slowest glass of water and took one sip before Lance walked into the kitchen slowly, wobbling just slightly. He touched Keith’s hip and gently pushed him until he was turned away from the counter, towards Lance, still holding his cup of water up to his mouth with both hands. Keith giggled as Lance pushed him further into the counter, crowding his space.
“What are you so smiley about?” Lance was grinning. So was Keith.
This is why he shouldn’t be allowed to get drunk. This is not a situation that should be funny. He should not have a thrill of heat run up his body whenever Lance holds eye contact with him for just too long. In the back of his mind, he knows this. He should push Lance aside and let all their flirting be done sober until Keith had more control over himself and his feelings. But the back of his mind was not in control right now. The front part of his mind was. The horny, silly, giggly, drunk part of his brain that tracked Lance’s eye movement go down to watch as Keith bit his bottom lip instead of answering Lance’s question.
Lance’s eyes flicked back up to Keith’s own. His hands were on the counter on either side of Keith’s hips. There were merely inches between them which seemed to get smaller with each passing second. Their noses touched; Keith’s pulse skyrocketed. He let his eyelids flutter closed. Lance rested his forehead on Keith’s, Keith tilted his chin up, just slightly. Their lips brushed for a fraction of a second before Lance was pulling all the way back, grabbing his own cup from the counter and filling it with just orange juice, no champagne.
“Fuck, Keith,” Lance says, taking a sip, looking directly into Keith’s eyes. “You’re too cute, it’s not fair.”
And then he’s gone. Back into the living room as if he hadn’t just made Keith’s heart rate spin faster than the main rotor of the helicopters they fly. Shit. Keith needed to get a grip. He really thought Lance was going to kiss him. He’s too far gone to spend any more of his limited brain power trying to figure out what Lance wants from him, he should wait and think about it tomorrow.
He brings his cup back to the living room, everyone was still sitting in the same places as before. Keith sits down next to Lance, intentionally not as incredibly close as they had been previously. Lance ignores that and scooches closer as soon Keith touches the couch. He even takes it a step further and wraps his arm around Keith, which is almost uncomfortable until Keith slouches a bit more to give Lance more space between the couch and Keith’s back to not have his arm crushed into Keith’s spine. Keith could feel Lance toying with the hem of the shirt on Keith’s hip, but since he has already made the decision to do nothing about it, he doesn’t.
Keith leans his head onto Lance’s shoulder and falls asleep to the feeling of Lance’s fingers tracing over the skin of his hip.