Chapter Text
“Hakuna Matata! What a wonderful phrase. Hakuna Matata! Ain’t no passing craze.”
Groaning, Keith patted around for his phone, finding it next to his left ear, and checked the time. 7:21. Today was the day, the day he was finally going to crack and actually murder his next door neighbor. Singing in the shower was one thing. Singing at 7:21 in the morning was another thing entirely. Both were irritating, one induced homicide.
Pounding his fist hard against the wall that he wished was thicker, Keith waited to see if the singing would stop.
“…Why, when he was a young warthog. When I was a young warthog!”
If Keith could hear him singing, then his neighbor sure as hell could hear him pounding on the wall. Stumbling out of bed, Keith pulled on a pair of black jeans, and stomped out of his room. Shiro and Allura were in the living room, sitting at the small kitchen table, and eating bowls of cereal, reading the newspaper. Sparing them a glance, just so he could roll his eyes at their disgusting domestic antics, Keith made for the door of the apartment.
“Keith,” Shiro called. “Where are you going?”
“To kill our neighbor.”
“It’s 7:30 in the morning. Maybe you should wait until…”
“Oh, I think he knows exactly what time it is,” Keith said, pulling open the door and ignoring Shiro’s protests. It occurred to Keith as he was slamming the door behind him that his neighbor was still probably in the shower. But he’d had it and he was already standing in front of their door, a welcome mat beneath his feet. Rapping his fist on the door, Keith crossed his arms and waited. When it didn’t immediately open, he knocked again.
The door swung open and a large man in a yellow shirt blinked at him, his mouth opening. The piece of pizza that had been dangling from it fell to the floor with a splat. “Ah,” the man whined, staring down at the piece of pizza, “That was my last one.” Considering it for a moment, he reached down and held it in front of his face, inspecting it. “I’m sure it’s fine,” he declared, taking a bite. “What can I do for you, buddy?”
“I want to talk to whatever asshole in this apartment think it’s okay to sing at the top of his lungs at 7:30 in the morning. And I’m not your buddy.”
The man scratched his ear and mumbled, “I think Lance’s still in the shower. I can tell him to cut it out, I guess, but that’s about all I can do for you.”
“Oh no. I’ll wait.”
“Whatever floats your boat,” the man shrugged. Sticking out a hand, he said, “I’m Hunk.”
Ignoring the hand, Keith said, “Keith. I’ll wait out here.”
“You live next door?”
Keith nodded, watching Hunk take another bite of the pizza. The cheese looked disturbingly white and still. “Is that cold?” Keith asked.
“Yep.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Listen, man, the only way to eat warm pizza is if it’s come directly from the oven. I don’t have the time or energy for that right now.”
It went silent between them. Typically, that wasn’t something Keith strictly minded but the longer he stood out here not yelling at a certain someone about their singing, the faster the anger that had carried him here dissipated. With a sigh, Keith said, “Look, I don’t have all day. Just go drag him from the shower.”
“I’m not sure…”
“I could go do it myself.”
“Nope, that’s not necessary,” Hunk said, shuffling backwards slightly. “I’ll just, uh, go get him.” He disappeared back into the apartment, leaving the door open. Leaning against the wall beside the door, Keith crossed his ankles and waited.
Before long, a man popped his head out, short brown hair two or three shades darker than his skin. Grinning, he said, “And what can I do for you?”
It took a minute for Keith to remember what he was going to say because this guy—Lance, presumably—was kind of gorgeous and so very shirtless, his damp hair dripping onto his shoulders. And Keith was so very gay. The guy’s grin subtly widened and that was enough to snap Keith out of his unhelpful interest in a drop of water that was making its way slowly down Lance’s chest. “You can go fuck yourself,” Keith said succinctly.
“Hey, now. You were the one that forced me out of the shower. I’ll have you know it was very warm and very wet.”
Feeling himself flush, Keith crossed his arms harder and said, “Well, if you want to enjoy a warm and wet shower ever again, I suggest you stop fucking singing while you do it. At least when it’s 7:30 in the goddamn morning!”
“I should’ve brought the swear jar out here with me. Happen to have two dollars? I can put them in for you.”
“Goddamn isn’t a swear word.”
“Kind of is, actually.”
“Whatever. That isn’t the point. The point is that I’m getting tired of your singing waking me up. Keep it the fuck down.”
“That’s three dollars now,” Lance said, still smiling. What an absolute dick.
Stepping forward, Keith said, “I can make your life hell. Either shower later in the day or stop singing.” With that, Keith turned around and headed back to his apartment.
Lance called after him. “That might actually be threatening if you didn’t sport a mullet, mullet-head.”
“Oh, there’s one I haven’t heard before,” Keith said, glaring at him from his door. “How original.”
“How about fun-killer? Have you heard that? Because that’s what you really are.”
Scrambling for words, Keith said, “Yeah, well, you sing both parts of a duet. Guess who does that? Fucking nerds.”
“I bet I sang them well, though.”
“Did not.”
“Totally did.”
“Only shitty singing is capable of waking me up,” Keith shot back.
“I think you’re up to six dollars now.”
“Oh my god,” Keith yelled, opening the door to his apartment in a rush. “Stop singing and stay out of my life.”
“That might be difficult if you’re going to keep your promise to make my life hell!”
Slamming the door again, taking extreme pleasure from the sound, Keith rounded on Shiro and Allura who were eating their cereal just as calmly as when he’d left. In a casual voice, Shiro said, “Do I need to help bury a body?”
“I wish,” Keith said on his way back to his room, not missing the soft giggling Shiro and Allura were sharing. He didn’t have work until ten. And since Lance was out of the shower, there was hope of getting more sleep. Taking his jeans off, he got back into bed and hiked the sheets up around his shoulders.
Right when he closed his eyes, he heard Lance singing, “Stylin’, whilen, livin’ it up in the city. Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent. Gotta kiss myself, I’m so pretty. Too hot…” It was louder than it had ever been. The asshole was probably right on the other side of the wall.
Sitting up in a flash, he pounded his fist against the wall, and shouted, “I’m researching how to murder someone and not get caught as we speak.”
Very distinctly, he heard Lance cackling, the laughter trailing off the further Lance moved away from the wall.
Seven long hours of waitering later, Keith trudged back to his apartment, Pidge walking beside him. She was the only friend he’d managed to make in the years he’d worked at the small local diner her family owned. They’d started talking because her dad forced her to help out sometimes, pulling her away from her computer. “I’m just saying,” she said, “It might be worth being an insect once just so you can breathe through your sides. Like, how cool is that?”
“I need a lifespan longer than five days.”
“Actually, even flies have a longer life span than that.”
“Whatever. I need a longer lifespan and less legs,” Keith said, leading the way up the stairs of his apartment building. When they got to his door, he found Lance sitting in the hallway between their two doors, arms hanging off his knees, head leaning back against the wall. He was wearing a jacket Keith kind of wanted to steal, despite it’s ugly brown color. Black would’ve been better. Or red.
“Keith,” Lance said, jumping up. “It’s Keith, right?”
“Yeah.”
“My buddy, my pal, I need your help.”
“Oh, really?” Keith asked, smirking.
Lance paled slightly and glanced at Pidge. “Surely you could show mercy in the presence of a lady.”
“Who is he calling a lady?” Pidge asked, studying him with interest. “I don’t know this guy, Keith. Which is weird, because you don’t have any friends.”
“I have friends.”
“There’s me and there’s Shiro. And Shiro’s your brother.”
Handing Pidge the key to his apartment, Keith said, “Why don’t you go inside, Pidge? I’ll be right there.”
She shot him a searching look and then shrugged, unlocking the door and stepping in. Although she shut the door behind her, Keith suspected she was standing right behind it, ears perked in interest. Shifting his gaze back to Lance, Keith said, “Ah, how the tables have turned.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“You should’ve thought of that while you sang ‘Uptown Funk’ just to spite me this morning.”
“How could I have predicted what was going to happen?” Lance asked, waving his arms wildly. This guy was very emotive. It would be kind of adorable if Keith didn’t hate his guts.
“That’s not my problem, is it?” Keith said, opening the door of his apartment, not at all surprised to find Pidge within five feet of it, her expression slightly guilty as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. As he turned to shut the door, Lance was still there, eyes pleading.
“Come on, man. Please. I left my keys in my apartment and my phone’s dead. I just need a place to crash until Hunk gets home. I’ll stay out of your way. If you need, like, payment or something, I can do your dishes or…vacuum,” Lance finished lamely.
“Vacuum.”
“I’ll do anything. This hallway is kind of creepy and this one girl has passed by me like three times and I think she thinks I’m homeless or something.”
“Anything?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow.
For some reason, that made Lance blush. When it occurred to Keith just how that could’ve been interpreted—how Lance had clearly interpreted it—he blushed, too. In a slightly more subdued voice, Lance said, “Yeah, anything. Just get me out of this hallway.”
“If you stop singing in the shower, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“And fun-killer is back.”
“I didn’t have to be up for another two hours.”
“Oh, cry me a river,” Lance said. “I happen to know it’s an absolute fucking delight to wake up to my singing. I’ve been told I have the voice of an angel.”
“By your mom?”
“Yes, actually. What’s your point?”
“That hardly counts,” Keith said.
“True. I bet your mom says your mullet is attractive.”
“My mom’s dead.”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Lance said genuinely. “That really sucks, dude. I don’t know what I’d do without my mom, even though I don’t see her as much as I’d like.”
Keith had absolutely nothing to say to that. Leaning up against the doorjamb, he simply waited to see what Lance would do. There was a moment of silence, Lance fidgeting, and then he sighed loudly. “I could try and avoid singing before nine in the morning.”
Shaking his head, Keith considered leaving Lance stranded. What Lance had proposed clearly didn’t benefit him in the slightest and it would be so satisfying to shut the door in his face. But if it was him out there, without a way to get into his apartment, he’d want Lance to help him. Rolling his eyes, he stepped out of the way and motioned for Lance to enter.
“Sweet!” Lance said, strolling in as though he owned the place. Peering around, he said, “Nice place. I like all the plants.” There really were plants everywhere, some hanging, most on every available surface. Keith didn’t hate them, but he did think there were far too many of them.
“My brother’s girlfriend likes plants,” Keith mumbled, seeing Pidge on the couch and slumping down beside her. He couldn’t interpret the look she gave him, so he just shrugged, watching as Lance made his way around the apartment, inspecting every goddamn thing and commenting on it. It was nice that he thought anybody cared.
When he’d finished with that, he sat down in a chair to the side of the couch, slightly angled so whoever was sitting there could see the television. “You said you had a brother?” Lance asked, eyes bright and curious.
“I thought you were going to stay out of my way,” Keith replied
“Yes,” Pidge said. “He has a brother. His name is Shiro. Basically, he’s this crazy gorgeous man with an equally gorgeous girlfriend and they’re both super nice.”
“Where are they?”
Pidge glanced down at the watch around her wrist. “Shiro should be home any second. It’s unlikely Allura will be with him, because it’s a Thursday. She’s never here on Thursdays. I’ve been trying to figure out why. Keith won’t tell me.”
“So he’s like this all the time? To everyone?”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
“Pretty much,” Pidge said.
“How does he keep it up? It’s gotta be a lot of work moping all the time.”
Keith flipped him off.
“I did an experiment on it once, actually,” Pidge said, pushing her glasses up her nose. It was a good sign she was about to talk for a very long time. “It wasn’t nearly as scientific as I would’ve liked, but it’s hard to quantify the emotions of a human being. At first, I thought it had something to do with the amount of sleep he got, but the number of bitchy things he said stayed the same, no matter how many hours of sleep he’d managed to get. Though, it’s possible he lied about the hours. Too many variables,” she sighed, shaking her head. “My second hypothesis revolved around whether Allura had spent the night or not and my third was…”
“Let’s not bore our guest,” Keith interrupted. The last thing Lance needed to hear about was his nonexistent sex life. Needless to say, Pidge’s third hypothesis had not even been testable.
“I’ll have you know that was utterly fascinating,” Lance said, though his eyes were slightly glazed over. “At least she treats me like a human being.”
“She wasn’t abruptly woken by “Hakuna Matata” this morning.”
“It’s a great song.”
“It is a great song,” Pidge agreed.
“Or by “Single Ladies” practically every day like two months ago. Or by the Moana soundtrack whatever month that came out.”
“Those are all great songs!” Lance protested. “I mean, have you seen Moana? That girl is seriously inspiring. She started the movie not knowing how to sail and by the end she’s like best friends with a demigod, knows how to sail, and sang her own goddamn name off the end of a boat in the middle of the ocean. I want to be her.”
“Of course you do,” Keith said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you throwing shade at my masculinity? Because I’ll have you know, liking Disney princesses has absolutely no relation to…”
“Throwing shade?” Keith asked, laughing shortly. “Did you seriously just say that?”
“Yes I did, mullet head.”
Keith opened his mouth to throw another retort back, when Pidge spoke. “I need you two to stop. I’m going to get a headache.”
“Sorry, Pidge,” Keith said.
“So you are capable of saying something nice.”
“To people that matter, yeah.”
“God, shut up!” Pidge yelled. That brought both Keith and Lance to a sudden halt, Lance looking sheepish and Keith feeling the exact same way. “I’m going to turn the TV on and we’re all going to watch until Shiro gets here. In silence.” She grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned the TV on, flipping through channels, until she landed on PBS, where they were playing a special on the Amazon. Without thinking, Keith glanced at Lance and rolled his eyes. Lance smirked in return.
Realizing he was sympathizing with his enemy, Keith frowned and actually paid attention to the program. Within five seconds, he knew he’d seen it before. “Pidge, we’ve watched this.”
“So?”
“At least three times.”
“So? It’s better than listening to you two flirt.”
“I am not flirting,” Keith said, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping further into the couch.
“Yeah,” Lance agreed. “Me neither. You’d both know if I was flirting because Keith would be swooning into my arms.”
“I don’t swoon.”
“That’s what they all say,” Lance said smoothly, winking.
“Does that actually work on anybody?”
“I have game you can’t even comprehend.”
“Uh huh,” Keith said, unimpressed.
“How’s brooding working for you?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“Well, I hope you like Twilight because that’s going to be the favorite book of any girl who's interested in you,” Lance said, smiling like he’d won something. “They’ll probably try to call you Edward in bed.”
“I don’t give a shit about girls.”
That threw Lance off, his mouth gaping like a fish, and Keith was going to comment on how ridiculous he looked, because he couldn’t resist—an urge he would have to examine later when he was alone—when the door opened and Shiro walked in, book bag on his shoulder.
“Hey, Shiro,” Pidge said.
Smiling, Shiro greeted her and then his eyes landed on Lance. “Hey. What’s your name?”
“Lance. Cool scar, bro.”
“Thanks,” Shiro said easily, placing his book bag on the floor by the door. Walking into the kitchen, he washed his hands at the sink and then said, “You want to stay for dinner? I’m making macaroni and cheese.”
“Fuck yeah,” Lance said. “I love macaroni and cheese.”
“He can’t stay,” Keith said. “He’s only here until his roommate gets home.” Lance glared at him, but didn’t argue for once.
Shiro glanced back and forth between the two of them and then his eyes widened in awareness. “I thought I recognized your voice,” he said. “You’re the guy who sings in the shower. I’m surprised Keith let you in.”
“I’m impossible to resist.”
“Apparently,” Shiro said, smiling knowingly at Keith. It made Keith want to shove his face into boiling water. There was absolutely nothing to smile knowingly about. Lance was infuriating, with his dumb face and his dumb smile and his dumb hair.
There was a knock on the door and Shiro went to answer it, tying an apron in place as he walked. Peering around Shiro to see who was there, the unmistakable yellow of the shirt Hunk had been wearing this morning came into view. “Hi,” Hunk said nervously. “You are…wow. Incredibly handsome. That’s, uh…anyway, I know you don’t know me or Lance, but he should be home and he’s not and he’s actually pretty good about telling me where he is, so I was wondering if you’d seen him?”
“You’ve come to the right place,” Shiro said with a smile. “Do you want to stay for dinner, too? I can make a double batch of macaroni and cheese.”
“Lance isn’t staying,” Keith shouted.
“Shut up, Keith. I’m totally staying. Nobody cares what you think.”
Standing from the couch and walking towards Shiro, Keith grabbed the crook of his arm, tugging him back into the kitchen. Turning his back to Lance, he murmured, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Making friends. What does it look like?”
“I don’t want to make friends. Especially with these people.”
All Shiro did was stare at him. Then he slapped Keith on the shoulder and went back to the door. “Sorry about my brother. So, do you want to stay?”
“That sounds great, actually,” Hunk said. “I haven’t been to the store in awhile and while I could probably whip something up from what I have, I don’t…”
“You cook?” Shiro interrupted, sounding genuinely interested. Keith just knew he was smiling. It was enviable, the way he could put people immediately at ease.
“Yeah. I’m pretty good at it or whatever.”
“He’s incredible,” Lance piped up, raising himself from the chair and coming to stand beside Keith in the kitchen. “I would actually pay him to cook for me, but on the bright side, he’s the bestest friend a guy could have and he offers me his food free of charge.”
“In that case, you should help me,” Shiro said. “If you want.”
“Sure,” Hunk said, strolling into the apartment. “Nice place. Lots of plants.”
“They’re Allura’s,” Shiro said, his eyes softening. Keith wanted to hurl. Looking to his side, expecting to see Pidge there, because she usually was—and always ready to complain about Allura and Shiro with him—instead he saw Lance. Their eyes met and Lance grinned.
“Why are you always there?” Keith said in a huff, escaping the kitchen and returning to his spot beside Pidge, who had proceeded to pull her phone out. She was probably researching something, because that was what she did with her free time. Keith would never admit it out loud, but he found it kind of adorable.
Knowing she was in an insect phase, Keith said, “Hit me with another obscure insect fact.”
“Aphids are born pregnant. They literally give birth ten days after their born. That’s reproduction done right.”
“Certainly efficient.”
Pidge nodded, her eyes fixed on her screen, clearly reading more about aphids. Presumably, how exactly being born pregnant worked scientifically. Pidge always spared him knowledge like that, knowing he wouldn't understand all the jargon she used and that, no matter how willing she was to explain, he wouldn’t want to understand.
Turning his gaze back to the kitchen, Keith absentmindedly listened as Hunk and Lance babbled to Shiro about cooking and the events that had led Lance to this apartment in the first place. Shiro smiled and laughed and asked questions in the rare moments that Lance actually stopped talking. If it was anyone else, Keith would accuse them of showing false interest, but it was Shiro. He did actually care about these random strangers’ lives.
At least Keith had Pidge. She was the one friend he’d ever had that didn’t immediately decide they liked Shiro better.
“You could try being nice to him,” Pidge said, breaking through his thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Lance.”
“Why would I do that?” Keith asked, tearing his eyes away from Lance.
“Because you just stared at him for fifteen seconds,” Pidge said, holding up her phone and showing him a stopwatch that did, in fact, read fifteen seconds. “Since it was longer than six seconds, psychology would say you either want to have sex with him or murder him.”
“I definitely want to murder him.”
“Sure, Keith,” Pidge said, patting his arm. Then in a quieter voice, she continued by saying, “Who am I kidding? Nice isn’t really in your wheelhouse.”
“I’m nice to you.”
“Sort of. And that’s because you love me.”
“Love you?” Keith teased, bumping his arm against hers. “Who said that I love you? I’m going to beat them up.”
Laughing, Pidge nudged him back and then reset her timer. “Stare at Lance some more, would you? I want to make sure those fifteen seconds weren’t a fluke.”
Dinner was…bizarre. Their apartment was rarely this crowded and they certainly weren’t prepared for the company. Though Shiro preferred eating at the table, there simply wasn’t room, so everyone spread out around the living room, some on couches, some on the floor. Lance, somehow, ended up next to Keith. He had a penchant for talking while his mouth was full of food and Keith quickly added that to the list of things he couldn’t stand about Lance. It was a very important list. It kept him from remembering the small bead of water winding down Lance’s bare chest, skin brown and smooth.
The real reason it was strange, though, was that they all got along. Pidge and Hunk hit it off right away with their mutual love of science and computers. Shiro and Lance hit it off with everyone. Keith didn’t talk much, but he thought maybe he was happy. It wasn’t in his nature to surround himself with people, but it was undeniably nice having his ears filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter.
When it appeared that everyone was finished, Keith silently walked around and picked up everyone’s dishes, taking them to the sink and beginning to wash them out. Their dishwasher didn’t handle cheese well, so he had to really scrub.
Halfway through the second dish, someone came up beside him and began loading the dishwasher. Peering over, Keith saw Lance. Before he could say anything, likely something snide, Lance said, “Your brother’s really cool.”
“Yeah,” Keith said.
“What happened to him? You know, with the scar and the prosthetic arm.”
“IED. Afghanistan.”
“Shit.”
Keith nodded, keeping his eyes focused on the task in front of him. When he finished, he was about to set the bowl on the towel next to the sink when Lance took it from his hands and placed it in the dishwasher. “You still can’t sing before nine,” Keith said, staring at him.
“Alright, first, I said try. Second, I’m not helping you so you’ll forget about the singing, although I gotta admit, if that’s a possibility, that would be great.”
“Why are you helping me then?”
“Because my mom taught me that if someone feeds me, I should help them clean up,” Lance said, smiling slightly.
“Momma’s boy?”
“Yep.”
A flood of questions bubbled to the tip of Keith’s lips. He could ask where Lance’s family lived, if he had any siblings, what their names were, if he missed them, but Keith’d woken up angry this morning and he was going to stay that way. Whatever it took to make this guy understand that he wouldn’t get away with waking Keith up again. So, instead, he just nodded and kept washing.
“I miss them, you know. My entire family,” Lance said, talking through the clattering of dishes. “I came here for the engineering program because it’s supposed to be really excellent or whatever, but sometimes I wonder if it was really worth it. I guess I have Skype.” When Keith didn’t respond immediately, Lance stared at him exasperatedly. “You’re either determined to have the last word or you aren’t speaking. It’s strange, dude.”
“I didn’t have anything to say.”
“Huh. Alright. Can’t say I know what that’s like, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Lance loaded the last of the dishes and then leaned his hip against the counter, staring at Keith, who suddenly had absolutely nothing to do. “What would you say to giving me your number?”
“I would say we live next door to each other. And that you woke me up at 7:30 in the fucking morning.”
“Yeah, okay, that’s kind of what I expected. Hunk,” Lance called. “We should get out of their hair. I have homework to do.”
“Ugh,” Hunk said. “Don’t remind me. Hey, Shiro, thanks for dinner. You’re a cool dude.”
“You’re welcome anytime.”
“I should go, too,” Pidge said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Keith.”
“Yeah. See you, Pidge.”
Keith watched passively as Lance, Hunk, and Pidge gathered their things and made their way to the door. When Hunk waved at him shyly, he waved back.
Once the door was firmly closed, Keith headed for his bedroom.
“Keith, come on, I haven’t seen you all day,” Shiro said.
“I’m really not in the mood.”
“Are you seriously upset about me inviting them for dinner? Because if you are, I won’t do it again. It just kind of seemed like you liked Lance,” Shiro said, eyes sympathetic and understanding.
“Liked Lance? Are you serious?”
“Alright, maybe not. I won’t do it again.”
Grimacing, Keith looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet. “I mean, it’s…it’s fine. If you like them or whatever.”
“Okay,” Shiro smiled.
“Oh, stop staring at me like that,” Keith said, heading into his room and shutting the door behind him. Throwing himself down on the bed, he wondered how he’d ended up here. All he’d wanted to do was get Lance to shut the fuck up.
The next morning, Keith woke to the sound of Lance belting out yet another song. “I’m so fancy. You already know. I’m in the fast lane, from L.A. to Tokyo…”
Finding his phone, he checked the time. It was 8:00. Shaking his head, smiling despite himself, Keith launched out of bed, found his iHome, plugged it in, and then scrolled through artists on his phone. Finding My Chemical Romance, he pressed on “Helena”. Then he stuck his phone onto the jack and kept pressing the plus button, increasing the volume, until he knew Lance would be able to hear it.
A mere fifteen seconds later, Shiro showed up in his room, yawning and saying, “I thought we were done with the My Chemical Romance phase.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Keith said. “My Chemical Romance is in again.”