Chapter Text
Keith is awoken by the sound of someone continuously and insistently ringing his buzzer.
He pries his face from the crease in his pillow and stares with disdain towards the front of his apartment. Keith usually enjoys living by himself but it’s moments like this where he wished he had a roommate to save him from this cruel and unusual torment. He groans as he launches a spare pillow in the general direction of the noise and prays to whatever holy entity exists that he could just go back to sleep . The pillow connects with a bookshelf, piled high with miscellaneous items, sending several of them tumbling to the floor with a clang. Keith, propped up on his forearm, listens.
Silence.
Keith sighs in relief.
Then: four more, almost angry sounding buzzes.
Keith groans and flops back onto his pillow, groping blindly for his phone on the coffee table beside him. He flicks away his lock screen and squints at the god awful number staring him in the face: 08:13.
“What the actual fuck ,” he says out loud. The buzzing continuous while he considers the many inventive ways he could murder the person behind the noise and, with superhuman willpower, hoists himself out of bed. His feet guide him through his small apartment towards his buzzer (which still screams at him) and he practically slams his finger down on the mic button.
“What,” he says through gritted teeth “do you want.”
He realizes a second later that he doesn’t even know who’s at the door and, in all honesty, he doesn’t really care. He just wants to go back to sleep where there is no obnoxious buzzer to ruin his life.
A voice crackles through the speaker in his wall, low and irritated.
“Keith, it’s Shiro. Let me in.”
Keith glares at the speaker with as much ferocity as he can manage after being woken up five hours earlier than he had planned.
As if sensing the look he shot him, Shiro continues.
“Let me in or I will keep ringing this thing until you do.”
Keith slams his finger down on the mic. “You wouldn’t dare.”
A beat of silence passes followed by one loud and prolonged buzz.
He is not one to give up so easily but, having just been dragged out of bed and feeling a lot like a recently revived corpse, Keith gives in and defeatedly lets Shiro have his way.
Being on the first floor, it takes only a few seconds before Shiro is at his doorway, coffee in hand and gym bag slung around one shoulder. Keith, on the other hand, is sporting a scowl and a pair of boxers.
Shiro does not wait for Keith to address him. “You,” he starts with a jab of his index finger. “Are coming with me.”
“Shiro.” Keith runs his hand over his face and takes a few long strides back over to his bed - well, futon - where he falls backwards onto it. “It’s too early. Please don’t do this to me.”
“Early?” Shiro turns his wrist over to glance at his analog - that’s right, analog - watch. “It’s barely past eight! We should have left half an hour ago!”
Keith lifts his head to stare at him in disbelief. “What is wrong with you?”
“Currently: you.” Shiro sets down his coffee on a stack of books by the front door and moves over to stand, looming over Keith. “You and I both know that I will drag you out of here so you might as well make this easy for both of us.”
“Uuuuggghhhhh, where are we even going?”
“The rink. You are joining the beginner class today.” Shiro folds his arms over his chest stubbornly.
Keith blinks up at him. “You’re joking.”
Shiro just raises an eyebrow in response.
“You’re not joking.” Keith sighs heavily. “Look, I appreciate you wanting to help but, really, I don’t need it.”
“Keith,” Shiro grabs a hold of his ankle as he speaks. “As your brother and former coach, I can tell you that you do need it. This will help you, I know it. And not only with your hockey and skating skills, but with your temper, too.”
Keith turns his face into his arm and mumbles.“I don’t have a temper.”
“Do you want to look at me when you say that?”
“No.”
Shiro sighs and gives Keith’s leg a small tug. “Just try it. You don’t have to commit to anything more than one lesson but I really, really think it will do you well.” Keith looks up at him, frown still plastered on his face. “Please, Keith. Trust me on this.”
Keith stares him down while he mulls over his options: agree and attend an awful figure skating class, refuse and get dragged to an awful figure skating class by force, or lie here and pretend to die.
He is almost certain that Shiro would drag him to the lesson even if he chose the last option.
“Fine.” He huffs. “I will go to your stupid lesson but do not expect me to be excited about it.”
“Oh trust me,” Shiro grins at him and yanks him off the futon with one strong pull. Keith’s ass collides with the ground followed shortly by his head but Shiro doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest. “I won’t.” He marches over to his gym bag and slings it over his shoulder once more. “Now, get dressed. Lesson starts at ten and we’re taking the subway.”
After Keith gets dressed and Shiro practically force feeds him a bagel, they finally find their way to the subway station. The station is surprisingly quiet - usually it’s packed tight with business people at this hour, with pinched faces and polished shoes. Odds are a train just left and saved them from having to deal with the crowds. The station isn’t empty by any means but at least Keith doesn’t feel like he’s going to suffocate.
“But, I don’t even have the right skates.” Keith says from behind his travel mug of coffee still trying to convince Shiro that this was an awful idea. The older boy isn’t having any of it.
“You can borrow some from the rink.” He doesn’t even look at Keith as he answers, instead focuses on a train that’s just coming into view.
Shiro pushes past a group of people to where the train doors are opening with a groan. He squeezes in, Keith in tow, beside a gentleman in a well tailored suit, gesturing for Keith to move in next him. He is suddenly acutely aware of the contrast between his grubby sweats and the pristine, pressed fabric of the man’s jacket. He averts his gaze to stare at the grimy floor, self consciousness growing in his gut.
“Honestly, Keith.” Shiro starts. “You can’t get out of this one. Even if you managed to convince me to let it go, I don’t see how you’d avoid Allura’s wrath. She is more excited about this than anyone else. Trust me , you don’t want to get on her bad side. Which reminds me...” He reaches into the front pocket of his bag and pulls out his cell phone. “I should let her know I’ll be late.”
“We’re not going to be late,” Keith frowns.
“Maybe by your standards, sure.” Shiro types into his phone as he talks then brings it up to his ear. “And certainly not by Lance’s. But as a coach I have certain expectations I have to meet. Keith ignores the subtle dig as Shiro stares down at his feet and he talks into his phone. “Allura? Yeah, hi. It’s me.” A pause. “No, no. I just stopped by Keith’s place to pick him up.” He smirks as the person on the other side of the line speaks. “Yeah, he’ll be there. But, listen, I’m going to be a little later than usual today. We’re just on the subway now so I should be there in about twenty minutes.” He laughs, then, at something she says. It’s a short lilted sound unlike anything Keith has heard him make before that catches his attention. “Of course. Anyways I -- Yeah, me too. Well, I’ll - um - see you soon. Okay. Bye.”
Shiro keeps his eyes on his phone as he hangs up and swipes through some messages on the screen. Keith squints suspiciously at him.
“So,” he starts, catching Shiro’s attention. He notes the slight flush of his face. “Allura.”
Shiro blinks at him, flush growing ever so slightly as he gulps. “Uhm… What…. about her?”
“Yes. What about her, indeed.” Keith raise an eyebrow at the older man. “I’ve never actually met her, you know. Which is strange considering she’s been your partner for -”
“Skate partner.” Shiro corrects.
“Right,” Keith smirks. “ Skate partner. ”
Shiro finally catches on, there, and sighs at him. “No, Keith. None of that. Allura is my coworker in several ways and that’s just -” he waves his hand noncommittally in front of him. “ - not right.”
The subway lurches to a stop and the doors open as Keith stares him down. The man in the suit abandons them but is quickly replaced by three other people. It’s not nearly as packed as it usually is but it is still by no means private. Keith pushes on, nevertheless.
“That is the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.” Shiro rolls his eyes at him as he talks, trying to brush off his words. “I haven’t even met her and I know you’ve got it bad. It’s been years that you’ve been skating with her. Why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask her out to dinner or something?”
Exhaustion rolls off of Shiro’s posture in waves. “I already get this every day from Lance. I don’t need it from you, too.”
“You don’t even deny it!” Keith throws his hands up in front of him. “Tell me - tell me - you don’t like her! ‘Cause I don’t think you can.”
“Drop it, Keith.” Shiro seems to be trying for intimidating but, oh man did he miss that mark.
“You can’t, can you?” Keith steps closer to him. Yeah. Definitely blushing.
“I -” Shiro is practically crushing his phone in his hands at this point. “- don’t have to answer that.”
“SHIRO.”
“It doesn’t matter, okay!” The subway grinds to another halt and this time Shiro moves towards the doors. Keith follows. “She is my co-coach and my skating partner. I won’t jeopardize my current relationship with her for selfish reasons. It’s not fair to her.”
Keith puts on his best ‘are you kidding me’ look as he starts up the stairs beside his brother.
“If I find out that you are being a giant baby about this - that she is just as stupidly obsessed with you - I will have your ass , Shiro.”
Shiro doesn’t answer him now, just pushes up off the last step and through the doors leading to the busy outdoor streets. Keith rolls his eyes at him as he follows, hoisting his bag higher up on his shoulder.
Keith has been to the rink before, once or twice maybe, so he vaguely remembers the route to it. Still, he lets Shiro lead, if anything so he can hang back several paces and sulk. This is not how he had hoped to spend his Wednesday morning and he intends to let everyone know.
The busy main streets are left behind as Shiro leads them down a suburban neighbourhood where almost every house had children’s toys strewn across the laneway. It’s painfully domestic and Keith suddenly realizes he has not been in an environment like this for many years. Even when he had lived with Shiro, they had stayed in a shitty apartment downtown near the hockey rink. It was definitely a step up from what he has now but nowhere near these kinds of houses. Seeing them now, stirs up a bittersweet kind of nostalgia that Keith winces at. A lot has changed since he’s lived in a house like this and seeing them now reminded him so much of that.
Thankfully, Shiro turns off of the boulevard of broken dreams and leads them onto a slightly busier street within plain sight of the rink. Unlike the rec centre that hosts his hockey rink, this arena was only a rink. No connected weight rooms full of frighteningly buff people, no forty year old women in yoga clothing strolling through the hallways, no seniors wadding towards the shallows for water aerobics. Keith briefly wonders if Shiro prefers this privacy over their old rink. Obviously he must, seeing as he practically co-owns the place.
“So,” Shiro says, breaking him out of his reverie. “You’re in the nine thirty tadpole class.”
“Tadpole…?” Keith raises an eyebrow at his brother.
“It’s what we call new skaters.” The parking lot is full of minivans and doting parents clinging to their children’s hands. Shiro waves at many of them, smiling warmly at them as they pass. “Because ‘soon you’ll be hopping around on the ice like frogs’.”
“ Oh my god .” Keith stops dead in his tracks. “You have got to be kidding me. That is single-handedly the most cringeworthy and embarrassing thing I have ever heard in my life . I refuse to be a part of this.”
Shiro huffs out an annoyed sigh and barely turns to face him. “Stop being dramatic, Keith.”
“No way. I am not going to be a - a - tadpole. ” Even just saying it sends waves of embarrassment rolling over him. This isn’t happening.
Keith can see Shiro flip into older brother mode and is just about to kick his ass when the front door to the arena swings open and a dark skinned woman with silver hair (which Keith assumes is dyed even though he sees no roots) and, honestly, the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. Based on the way Shiro reacts - for reference: starts, turns, blushes, and smiles a god awfully cheesy smile - Keith guesses this must be Allura. She’s taller than he imagined, seeing as most female pair figure skaters are usually quite short, but the gracefulness with which she moves is more than enough to compensate for it. If she moves like this on the pavement Keith can only imagine how she must look on the ice.
He also suddenly understands his brother’s infatuation; you don’t have to be into girls to know when someone’s a 50 on a scale of 1 to 10. And Allura was most definitely a 50.
“Shiro!” She calls, waving her hand excitedly above her. Keith notices the English accent in her voice and wonders if she came overseas to train.
“Oh, hello!” Shiro raises one hand sheepishly. “Uh, Allura.”
“Smooth.” Keith says under his breath which earns him a warning glare.
Allura pads over to them, politely nodding at a passing family, a dazzling smile plastered to her face. Keith risks a glance over at Shiro who simultaneously looks constipated and like all of his limbs have turned to jello. Keith barely suppresses a snort. Allura, on the other hand, seems well composed and definitely not like a 13 year old with a crush, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.
Once she’s within comfortable conversational range, Shiro rubs the back of his neck and stammers out yet another eloquent sentence.
“Sorry for, y’know, being late. I was outside of this one’s -” he jabs a thumb over at Keith. “- apartment door for almost 10 minutes before he finally decided to answer.”
“‘This one?’” Allura fixes her gaze on Keith who squirms under her intrigued gaze. “Oh! You must be Keith!” She extends a hand in greeting which Keith takes, surprised by her firm grip and strong handshake. He gets the distinct feeling she could take him a fight with both arms tied behind her back. Oh boy, his brother is doomed.
“Yeah, nice to meet you.”
“I have heard so much about you! Shiro has told me many stories about you two - I especially loved the ones from when you were kids.” She lays a hand on Shiro’s arm with a tender smile and he just about combusts. “They made several long plane rides at least somewhat endurable.”
“Hm,” Keith smirks at his brother’s current state. “I’m sure I could think of a few more you’d find entertaining.”
“Keith...” Shiro warns.
“Oh?” Allura perks up, hand still gingerly placed on Shiro’s arm, and turns to face Keith more fully. “Such as?”
“Well, when Shiro was in high school -”
“Keith.”
“- he had this one girlfriend -”
“ Keith .”
“A girlfriend?” Allura looks over at Shiro with a coy grin. The latter almost goes white with fear, any attempts at intimidation vanishing into thin air.
“Oh yeah, she was really pretty. But, see, one time Shiro took her out for dinner at this fancy restaurant. He saved up for weeks to pay for it.” Keith watches Shiro look desperately between him and Allura then out towards the arena door for help. Keith continues. “Well, it turns out that she was allergic to seafood! Neither of them knew this, at least, not until they got back to her place where - “
“ OKAY I THINK THAT’S ENOUGH.” Shiro slings his arm over Keith’s shoulders, squeezing tighter than the average side-hug. “ Story time is over .”
Keith would normally be scared for his life if Shiro’s face wasn’t currently the shade of a tomato and his eyes weren’t saucer-sized. He wonders if his brother will ever return to his normal skin tone after what he just went through - probably not. Allura seems just as amused as he is, a delicate hand held in front of her mouth as she tries to smother the giggles bubbling out of her.
He stares up at his brother’s pleading expression. “Are you sure? But it’s such a great story!”
“I am absolutely certain . Now is not the time for stories.”
Like an angel sent from the heavens, Allura swoops in (still slightly giggling) and saves Shiro from any more torment. “As much as I’d love to hear the ending of this tale, we do have to get to practice. The lesson starts in fifteen minutes and you -” she looks Keith up and down. “- probably need a set of skates. Come on, we’ll get you sized and laced up quickly so you can stretch before the lesson.” She places a hand on Keith’s back and all but pushes him in the direction of the rink. He finds it hard to resist her, as much as he wants to.
As he is lead forward, Shiro whacks him on the back of the head, his face still visibly burning with embarrassment.
Worth it.
“Do they fit alright?”
Keith wiggles his toes around inside the skate, staring down at them with a frown. They are painfully different from the bulky hockey skates he’s used to, so tightly fitted and formed, that they feel alien in comparison.
“I think so?” He presses his foot onto the ground, putting just a little more weight onto the skate. “I don’t really know how they're supposed to fit.”
“Hm,” Allura props her hands onto her hips. “I guess they are quite different from your usual skates. They look like a good fit, at least from what I can see, and I have a pretty good eye for these things.” Keith looks up at her as she winks. “I’ve been doing this for a while.”
Keith looks out towards the ice where Shiro stands talking to a few people. He had excused himself earlier, saying he had things to take care of before the lesson, and left Keith at the mercy of Allura’s authority. She wasn’t mean by any standards, in fact she was one of the most welcoming people Keith had met, but she had a… presence about her. She carried herself differently than everyone else. Not like she was better than them, but like she wasn’t one to be pushed around. Shiro was right when he said Keith stood no chance against her; even though Keith still desperately wanted out of this, there was no way she was going to let that happen.
“Well,” Keith pushes himself onto his feet. “I’ll trust your judgement, I guess.”
“One way or another, you’ll know by the end of the lesson. If they’re wrong we can always fit you again next time.” She smiles warmly but Keith almost snorts at the word ‘next’. That’s a funny joke, Allura. She saunters over to the rink door, swinging it open and gesturing towards it. “Let’s try them out, shall we?”
Keith gathers his wits and takes the first few steps slowly so he can test out how they feel. Allura glides onto the ice first and turns to face him.
“Now, there are a lot of differences between your usual hockey skates and these ones. A lot of it is in the blade,
but the overall fit of the boot is also very different. You may have some trouble adjusting to them at first - that is completely normal.” She extends a hand towards him as he places one skate on the ice but he shakes his head at it.
“I don’t think they’re that different, Allura. I’ve got this.” He says confidently.
Evidently, he does not got this.
The second he puts weight on both skates, he practically slams into Allura. Thankfully, she expected this and was prepared to catch him, steadying him with a hand on his bicep and a knowing smile on her lips.
“As I said: I’ve been doing this for a while.” She pushes him slightly more upright but never removes her hand from his arm. “Figure skates have flatter and longer blades when compared to hockey skates so your whole approach to skating has to change. Firstly -” She begins to pull Keith out a little further onto the ice. “- you hockey players tend to rely on the inside edge of your skates. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, these skates have a toe pick so you need to focus on using the outer edges to skate. This means you can’t use a toe push like most hockey players do. Fortunately, we get more power with each stroke so once you make the switch, you’ll have to work less for more.”
Keith experiments with his weight placement, all the while clinging desperately to Allura’s arm. He occasionally feels the scrape of the toe pick against the ice and is momentarily thrown off balance, but doesn’t face plant. Yet.
“Secondly -” She taps Keith’s chin, forcing him to look up. “- your posture. The hockey stance has you all hunched forward and leaning towards the ice. We stand upright: shoulders back, chin high. Elegance is key.” She emphasizes this by squaring her shoulders back with a grin. “This will also help keep your weight off your toes.”
Hesitantly, he stands up straighter. He expects to fly backwards onto his ass, but that doesn’t happen. In fact, it somewhat helps to keep him more balanced on his feet. His weight now shifted towards the center of his feet, he isn’t slipping on the strange curve of the blade.
“Ha!” He lets out a small nervous giggle as he pushes off with a little more strength. “This - I guess this isn’t so bad. I think I’m getting the hang of it, actually.”
“You’re doing very well, Keith!” Allura beams. “You will still have to remind your body of its new movements until it solidifies into your muscle memory but, until then, me and Shiro will be here to help. Want to try skating on your own?”
Nerves briefly flutter in his stomach, but he pushes them back down. You’ve spent most of your life on a rink. This is nothing.
“Oh - uh- yeah. Sure.”
Allura slowly lets go of his arm but doesn’t stray far. “Now remember,” she adds. “You want long, fluid strokes. Elegance.”
“Y-yeah. Right.” Keith has a hard time focusing on his words when he has to concentrate so intensely on every single one of his movements . For someone who has been skating for at least ten years, he looks a lot like a baby gazelle learning to walk. He tries to takes one more glide forward but catches his pick on the ice, which forces him to take several panicked steps to catch himself. He huffs out a breath as he straightens up.
“You’re alright.” Allura, her movements so fluid compared to his, keeps one hand slightly stretched out towards him. “You’re doing incredibly well. Why don’t we move over to Shiro?” She nods her head towards the man behind her, not even looking away from Keith as she does so.
Looking up, Keith takes this moment to admire her abilities. She was so incredible agile off the ice but, with her skates on her, it’s like her movements extend past the surface and out into the ice. It’s hard to explain exactly how she moves, it’s unlike anything Keith has seen before, but damn is it impressive.
“Keith?” She raises her eyebrows at him expectantly.
“Um, yeah - let’s go.”
She smiles another brilliant smile and loops her arm through his, slowly guiding them towards her co-coach. Shiro is several feet away and seems to be wrapped in a conversation with a pair of people, looking visibly annoyed. As they approach Keith starts to make out a few words.
“But Shiro, imagine how much it would add to the lesson!” The person has their back turned to Keith so he can’t quite make out their features but they are several heads shorter than his brother. This, however, doesn’t seem to stop them from defiantly folding their arms at him.
“I do not care how ‘cool’ it would look, Pidge, you can’t do that.” Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose as he talks, glancing over at the similar looking person beside ‘Pidge’. “You can’t seriously be siding with them, Matt?”
‘Matt’ practically jumps at the direct attention from Shiro and begins to wring his hands in front of him. “I - I can’t say that I am. But you know how Pidge gets… There’s - there’s no arguing with them.”
“I am right here .” Pidge waves their arms above their hand, the movement just reaching Shiro’s eye level. “And I’m telling you it’s a great idea. ”
Shiro glares down at Pidge, whose face is slowly coming into sight as Keith approaches, but somehow the glare is not nearly as intense as when it’s directed at him. What is this person doing to dissuade his stubborn brother? And where were they when Keith was a child, getting multiple punishment noogies a day??
Shiro lets out a long, drawn out sigh. “No way. You are not allowed.”
“But, why not?” Pidge huffs back at Shiro, clearly annoyed.
“Because there will be children in this lesson, Pidge!”
“They need to learn how to navigate in this cruel and unforgiving world! They need thick skin if they’re going to get anywhere in life! You would deny them this opportunity to learn?” They shake their head. “You’re cruel.”
Allura, still dragging Keith closer, pipes up then. “What devilish plan have you concocted now?”
The whole group turns to face them now, having just noticed the mismatched pair of skaters inching towards them. Keith’s feet are unsure and clumsy in these new skates, whereas Allura, despite having 90% of Keith’s weight dumped on her left arm, is still nimble and exquisite in movement. It seems a miracle, honestly.
With their faces in full view, Keith notes the large, round glasses perched on Pidge’s nose, which slightly magnify their eyes. Their hair is a light shade of brown, wild in nature, and contrasted against their pale skin. They look nearly identical to Matt - who stands only slightly taller than Pidge but, otherwise, has few differences from them. Pidge has a large sports sweater draped over their shoulders, accents of green lining the edges, and thick electrical wire hung around their neck. Both they and Matt are in sneakers, somehow still leagues more steady than Keith is on his skates, but Matt looks uncomfortable standing on the ice. Pidge seems like the kind of person who has spent many hours on the rink, whereas Matt seems to glance longingly towards the door every few seconds - like he’s eager to leave.
Pidge opens their mouth to say something but Shiro clamps a hand down on their shoulder, speaking for them.
“Doesn’t matter because it’s not happening.” He sends one more half-hearted frown at the tiny person beside him before addressing Keith. “Well - don’t you look… wobbly.”
Keith wants to say something snarky but the majority of his concentration is still fixated on his feet. Thankfully, Allura speaks for him.
“Hey, now! Keith is doing very well for his first time in figure skates! There is no need to be rude.”
If the frown he gave Pidge was half-hearted, then the frown he gives Allura is sixteenth-hearted. He is wrapped around this woman’s finger - how is he going to survive?
“Keith…” Pidge fixes their gaze on him then, squinting slightly like they’re sizing him up. “So you’re Shiro’s brother.”
“Yes?” Allura pulls Keith to a shaky stop by the group, relinquishing her grip on his arm at last. “Jeez Shiro, I didn’t realize you talk about me that much.”
“I don’t.” Shiro rolls his eyes. “Pidge just knows everything.”
This puts a smug grin on the young person’s face. Keith isn’t quite sure how much younger they are than the rest of them but he’d probably guess around four years. Enough to make Keith feel strange, seeing as he’s usually the youngest in a crowd. The smugness seems out of place on such a young face, but something tells Keith it’s not empty gloating. Maybe it’s the mischievous glint in their eye or maybe just how they carry themselves - he isn’t sure.
“Well,” Matt cuts in, patting Pidge affectionately on the head. “Not everything .”
“Don’t start with me, Matt. I have so much blackmail against you.”
Matt laughs at his sibling’s (not-so-empty) threats and extends a hand to Keith. “Matt - I’m this twerp’s older brother.”
It takes a lot of mental fortitude to shake his hand and not fall over, but Keith manages it.
“Keith - this twerp’s younger brother.” He says nodding at Shiro.
“You and I need to join forces, Keith.” Pidge pushes their glasses further up onto their nose. “Us younger siblings need to stick together, right?”
“When you’re both aggravating troublemakers, you’ll need all the help you can get.” Shiro remarks. Pidge rewards him with a ‘that was such an awful dig why do you even try?’ look and Matt practically giggles at Shiro. Keith shakes his head and sighs. He forgot what it was like to spend so much time in public with his brother. “Anyways, the lesson starts soon and I need to get the kids lined up.” Shiro brushes the hair from his face and moves to leave, but Keith raises a hand.
Wait. What?
“Kids?”
Shiro turns to look at Keith, an eyebrow raised. “Yes. Kids. It’s the stage of life that comes before adolescence and after infancy.”
“Uuuugh,” Keith groans at the intense dadness that was that joke (and takes note of the similar groan Pidge makes). “No, I mean, why are there kids on the ice right now? Isn’t my lesson at nine thirty?”
“It is. But, so is theirs. It’s the same lesson.” Shiro starts to push away from the group to where a few children make their way onto the rink, watching Keith as he stares in disbelief. “Who did you think would be in a tadpole class?”
And with that, he’s gone. Leaving Keith to absorb the fact that he, a 22 year-old man, will be skating alongside 6 and 7 year-olds who are, no doubt, better than him at figure skating. This already terrible situation just became infinitely worse.
“Keith,” Allura presses in beside him, probably sensing his sudden urge to run very far away , and grabs a hold of his arm once more. “Why don’t we skate a lap or two to get you warmed up before the lesson?”
Keith knows the difference between a suggestion and an order and this - this was an order.
He nods unhappily and accepts his demise.
“Good. Oh and Pidge, a few things before you go.” Allura fixes her gaze on Pidge and it seems to have a much stronger effect on them than Shiro’s did. She jabs a finger in their direction. “Firstly, no tech nonsense during this lesson. I will not have you terrifying these children during their first ever lesson - no matter how helpful you say it will be.” Pidge’s posture sinks down as they hunch over in disappointment but Allura pushes on. “And secondly, have you heard from Lance? We asked him to help us with today’s lessons, but he has yet to show up.”
Despite the exaggerated pout that they have adopted, Pidge answers her. “I haven’t heard from him yet, no. But you know Lance: he needs at least four hours every morning to get ready.” They roll their eyes in disgust. “It’s a wonder Hunk can live with that creature. I’d sooner drink bleach than spend even a single night with him and his prima donna nonsense.”
Allura ignores their complaining entirely, propping one hand on her hip in mild frustration. “I know Lance is usually late but I asked him to keep an eye on the clock today. It is important he be on time for this lesson.”
“It’s Lance , Allura. Honestly, what do you expect?” Pidge scoffs but they look up at Matt anyways and nudge him in the arm. “How about you, Matt? Have you heard from Lance this morning?”
Matt, who is looking off across the ice to where Shiro has kneeled down to greet the hoard of children, suddenly starts, realizing that he was still technically part of the conversation.
“Oh - Um - Uh, no. No, I haven’t.” He scratches at his neck as Keith watches a blush grow across the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.”
Pidge gives their brother an almost pitying look before turning back to Allura.
“I’m sure we’ll see His Royal Majesty soon enough.” They grab a hold of their brother’s sleeve and take a few steps away from Keith and Allura. “Anyways, we have things to do before tonight’s practice. We’ll see you later.”
Allura waves them off with her free hand and gives a slight tug on Keith.
“Alright,” she says, all smiles as she waves them off. Her intense gaze fixates back on Keith. “Now: one lap.”
Keith mumbles something that could be taken as an agreement and allows himself to be pulled along by the confident woman. He is slightly smoother on the ice this time. He catches his toe pick on the ice a few times and Allura has to continuously remind him to ‘stand up straight’ but, other than that, Keith is starting to feel slightly more comfortable in these skates. Allura has even moved away from his side so he can start to add some arm movements into his body language. Maybe he’ll get through the day not completely hating his life afterall.
Keith hears his brother’s voice, annoyed and accusatory, ring out from across the rink and, thinking the remarks are directed towards him, looks over to him. He manages to just see a tall, lanky individual with tanned skin all but float across the ice towards Shiro. His movements are so smooth and effortless, it barely looks like he puts any weight on his skates. These are the movements of someone who has spent years perfecting their skills and it shows.
Keith may or may not be slightly mesmerized by how he skates. Watching how he glides in circles around his brother, rolling his eyes and waving his hands dismissively at what he’s being berated for, he looks like he belongs on the ice. As he circles, Shiro doesn’t even bother turning to face him, just waits for him to come back into view so he can jab his finger at him accusingly. The tall boy comes to an easy and fluid stop in front of him, hands on his hips, and Keith can practically see the eye roll in his body language.
Still somewhat focused on the task at hand, Keith continues to skate towards Allura but keeps his eyes glued to the newcomer on the ice. He almost wishes he was a little closer so he could get a better look at him - just to see his technique, of course.
It’s then that Shiro gestures across the ice towards him and the boy’s gaze follows.
It’s also then that Keith shifts his weight just a little too far forward, catches his toe pick, and slams his chin down into the ice.
Allura is there in a flash.
“Oh! Keith - I’m sorry! I was distracted and wasn’t there to catch you!” She places a hand delicately on his shoulder, eyes doting and concerned. “Are you alright?”
If Keith’s face wasn’t burning like he’d just fallen straight into a mound of coals, he’d look up at her, but it most definitely is. So instead, he keeps his head tucked down and only gives her a slight nod. Here he was, admiring possible the most graceful skater he’d ever seen while he looks like the ugly duckling on skates. Nicely done, Keith. I’m sure that was very attractive.
To make matters worse, Shiro decides to slide in beside Allura and kneel down to get a look better look at his moronic brother.
“You okay, Keith?” He forces his chin up and inspects his face, letting out a relieved sigh when he seems pleased with how it looks. “You look alright - no serious damage from what I can tell. How do you feel?”
“Uhm,” Keith, having been pried for his cocoon of shame, now notices that the lanky skater has also glided along behind Shiro, with his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets, to peer down at him with a curious, albeit, annoyed look. Keith blushes fiercely but still manages to push himself up. “F-Fine. I’m - I’m fine.”
“That toe pick is annoying at first,” Shiro grabs him by the hand and pulls him to his feet. “You’ll get used to it soon.”
“I was doing just fine before -” Keith clamps his mouth shut, cutting off whatever embarrassing sentence he was about to say. He risks a glance over at the stranger. He seems to be no longer interested in Keith at all, now staring off towards the growing group of children with his arms crossed and bottom lip jutted out.
“Before?” Shiro raises an eyebrow.
Keith pries his eyes off the tall figure and shakes his head at his brother. “Nothing. I was just - distracted.”
“Well, it’s best to get it out of your system now; the lesson starts in a few minutes.” Shiro pats him on the shoulder encouragingly. “I’ll try to go easy on you today - nothing too intense for my tadpole little brother.”
“Now, now, Shiro.” Allura bats him gently on the arm. “You were a beginner once, too. In fact, I seem to remember you struggling more than Keith during your first lesson.”
Shiro smiles over at her, his chest puffed out slightly. “The difference is: he wasn’t there to witness it. It’s my duty as an older brother to hold these things over his head.”
“Yes, well… Don’t be too hard on him.” Allura furrows her brows at her partner before pushing away from the three remaining boys.
“Yeah, Shiro.” Keith grins devilishly, raising his voice as he talks. “Otherwise Allura will have to punish you .”
Keith tries to shove every possible innuendo into that comment with his tone alone and, clearly, it seems to have worked. Shiro’s face turns an intense shade of red once more and he desperately looks to see if Allura heard the remark. No dice. Keith is only a little disappointed.
His comment also earns an amused snort from the mystery skater a few steps away. Keith catches his eye and, when he sees barely contained laughter bubbling from behind long fingers, his disappointment fades ever so slightly.
“You- ” Shiro says through clenched teeth, fixing Keith with a pointed and flustered glare. “Shut it. And you -” The next jab is directed towards the other laughing boy. “You are in enough trouble as it is. Don’t dig yourself into a deeper hole.”
“What can I say, Shiro?” He shrugs, hands held out in front of him defensively. “I take pleasure in seeing you embarrassed. Especially after all the torment you put me and the team through.”
Shiro runs a hand down his face, exasperated. “Uuuughhh, I don’t deserve this.”
Keith goes to nudge his brother in the ribs but ends up losing his footing and falling forward into his chest. Keith can see the brief moment where he contemplates letting him fall but, in the end, Shiro grabs him by the arm and hoists him back up. The lanky skater appraises Keith’s shaky legs and awkward stance with a raise of his eyebrow - obviously not impressed. Keith tries to ignore his judgement but it only serves to rile him up slightly.
“I guess I should introduce you two.” Shiro gestures between the two of them as he speaks. “Keith, Lance. Lance, Keith.” Keith nods mutely in Lance’s direction, receiving another judgemental look in return. “Keith is my younger brother and one of your students today, Lance.”
Keith blanches, his heart stopping mid-beat. No way .
“You can’t be serious.” Lance groans, throwing his hands in the air.
“What? I told you I needed a hand teaching the tadpole class and you agreed to it. I need you to focus on getting Keith on his feet while I handle the young kids.” Shiro turns to address Keith. “Lance is one of my top skaters here. He’s competed in championships for many years now and knows his stuff. He is more than capable to teach you the basics.”
Keith doesn’t need Shiro to tell him that. Lance’s comfort on the ice is enough evidence that he knows what he’s doing. Keith suddenly feels very uncomfortable with the idea that someone so talented will be watching him flop around on the ice like a fish.
“Uh, Shiro. You know - I just - I really don’t feel good. I don’t think I can go through with this.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Shiro holds a hand up in front of him, stopping Keith’s words right there. “You are doing this.”
Keith goes to respond with another complaint but Lance beats him to it.
“Hey, if he doesn’t want to do it, then you can’t force the guy.” Lance spins on his heels and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Guess I’m not needed anymore, so I’ll just head home. Nice meeting you, Mullet. Try to not smash your face on the ice as you leave.” He presses his right blade into the ice and pushes off, but Shiro snags his shirt and drags him back.
“Nope. This is happening. Both of you are staying.”
“Shiro -”
“Just give up. You will not get me to back down from this.” Shiro places one hand on Keith’s shoulder and the other on Lance’s. “I know this will be good for you. Both of you.” His expression softens just slightly as he looks them each in the eye. “Give it a shot, okay? Trust me on this one.”
Lance holds his gaze intently - Keith notices something deeper imbedded in the look they share, something he isn’t privy to - but Shiro doesn’t back away, holding steady under the heavy look. Eventually, Lance sighs.
“Fine.” He shrugs off Shiro’s grip and folds his arm across his chest. “Fine.”
“Good.” Shiro shifts his attention away from the sulking skater. “Keith?”
Arguing with Shiro when he’s stuck on an idea is a lost cause - Keith had learned this a long time ago - but, with the twinges of anxiety still plucking at his gut, he briefly contemplates doing it anyways. He bites the inside of his lip as he thinks. One lesson , he reminds himself. It’s just one lesson .
“Whatever.” He admits defeat, and goes to mimic Lance’s pose. He still doesn’t wrestle out of his brother’s grip, though, in fear of falling over.
“Great. Now,” Shiro nods his head off towards the entrance of the rink. “Keith, you can line up. And Lance, you go stretch before we start.”
“Oh come on, Shiro - we won’t be doing anything difficult. I don’t even need to stretch.”
Shiro barely even reacts to anything he says. “Stretch. Now.”
With another huff, Lance rolls his eyes and heads over to the boards to get ready for the lesson. Keith watches him as he swings one long leg up against the boards and bends forward over it, pressing his nose to his knee. Shiro bumps him on the arm and gestures for him to follow. He leads them towards the group of children, now lined up against the boards thanks to Allura. She is talking to each of them, in turn, smiling broadly at whatever they say and they are just lapping it up.
Shiro points Keith towards the end of the line where a dark skinned girl stands. A curly poof of hair is gathered at the top of her head and she continuously twirls her skirt in her hands, smiling to herself. The embarrassment flares in Keith’s chest at being in a line up of people so much younger than him, but he ducks his head and wobbles his way over to her. She beams up at him once he gets close enough, crinkling her nose in amusement.
“Hi!” Her voice is like a squeak compared to Keith’s and it takes him by surprise.
“Uh, hi.” Keith rubs at the back of his neck and leans against the boards, hoping they’ll collapse on top of him and he’ll be sent to the hospital instead of having to stay here. Unfortunately, this doesn’t happen.
The little girl squints at him and Keith stares back. He notices a cloud of freckles adorning her nose and cheeks, faint against the dark tint of her skin. Her eyes are just as dark in colour yet they are bright in spirit. She may seem cute but something tells him she’s a troublemaker. She places her hands on her hips and furrows her eyebrows together when she finally addresses him.
“Your hair is funny looking.” She says in as serious of a tone that her squeaky voice can muster.
Keith is taken aback by the sudden insult, especially by someone that only comes up to his waist, and he sputters in shock. Hwaves his hand uselessly in front of him while he searches for a proper response but never manages to come up with something before she continues.
“It’s really long for a boy. It’s weird.” She seems genuinely perplexed by his choice in hairstyle, which Keith would find funny if she hadn’t so earnestly insulted him three seconds earlier.
“W-well,” Keith stutters. “Boys can have long hair, you know. A-and I happen to like my hair long so - uhm - yeah.”
How very eloquent, Keith. You’re one heck of a role model.
She, however, ignores how much of a mess he is, and actually considers what he’s said. She taps the front of her skate thoughtfully on the ice as she mulls it over.
“Hmmm… Well… my mom always says that people might make fun of my hair even though there’s nothing wrong with it. She says that some people don’t like things that are different and as long as I’m happy, then it doesn’t matter what they think.” Keith blinks at her in shock. Christ, how old is this kid? “So I guess if you like it, then it’s okay!”
“Uh, wow. Your - your mom sounds like a really cool person.” Keith says dumbly, somewhat floored by her mature response.
“Ugh - No she’s not. She embarrasses me all the time and it’s annoying.” And, just like that, it’s forgotten. She moves on from the hair discussion and takes the opportunity to spin in a quick circle on the ice. Oh great, she’s already better on the ice than he is. “Do you like my dress? My mom just bought it for me!”
The bright pink of her skirt sparkles under the sharp fluorescent lighting and then fades into an almost obnoxious amount of sequins on the bodice that extend all the way down her arms. She does one more twirl for good measure, making sure to show off every inch of it.
“It’s -- very pretty.” Keith tries his best to mimic Allura’s warm smile. “I really like it.”
She accepts this as an adequate answer and grins happily up at him. “Thanks! I like your…” She looks him up and down, taking in the dark sweater he found buried under a semi-clean pile of laundry and the same black jeans he’s been wearing this whole week. “...uhhhh... skates! I wanted pink ones but the salesman didn’t have any. So now we match!” She wiggles one foot in the air, showing off her white leather skates, identical to his in everything but size.
“Uh - thanks.” He can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. He still viciously wants to leave this god forsaken arena but she has managed to take some of the nerves out of his system.
So, of course, that’s when Shiro, standing in front of the lineup, claps his hands twice to catch their attention.
“Alright everyone!” He puts one hand on his hip as he talks, a kind smile playing at his lips. “My name is Coach Shiro and I’m going to be teaching all of you for the next six weeks. Now - have any of you ever skate before?”
A few of the children, including Keith’s conversation partner, nod excitedly. Keith doesn’t answer that question for several reasons, but most of them are: embarrassment. In fact, he tunes out most of what Shiro says - something about trust and teamwork - and looks around the rink. Several parents are seated out on the rafters, watching their children eagerly and snapping a few shots on their cellphones. Keith cringes and turns his back to the crowd so he can avoid having his face in any pictures. He lets his eyes drift across the rink once more, this time landing on Lance.
He has one arm pulled out across his chest, stretching out the muscles in the back of his arm and shoulder. He spends only a few seconds on that before twisting his back from side to side with his arms held loosely beside him. He thinks for a few seconds, reaching down to grasp his left knee where he massages it gently. Even from far away, Keith can see a small wince as he does so, but Lance ignores it and carries on. He pulls that knee up to his chest, giving it a few strong tugs that last several beats longer than he gave his arms, before grabbing his ankle and pulling his leg back and above his head in a long arc. He leans his weight forward on his foot, his other hand coming to rest on the boards. Slowly, ever so slowly, he stretches into a standing split and Keith swears he might pass out. F-fuck he’s flexible . Once he’s satisfied, he lets go of his leg and switches to the other side.
Keith snaps back to reality as Shiro claps once more.
“Okay! That’s all! Let’s get started.” Shiro pushes sideways towards Keith as the kids slowly make their way to one end of the rink. Before he reaches him, Keith feels a tug on his hand and looks down to find his pink-clad companion holding onto him
“By the way,” she gives their joined hands a small swing. “My name’s Tia!”
Keith blinks down at his hand gripped tightly in hers and smiles faintly. “Keith.”
“Keith..” She tests out his name with a furrow of her brow. It doesn’t last long, however, and she smiles once more before letting go of his hand. “Are you gonna skate with me?”
“Uhh,” Keith watches how confidently she pushes herself away from him and suddenly panics. “I’m -”
“Actually, Tia,” Shiro arrives then and squats down to her level. “Keith is going to be skating with one of my other students. You’ll have to find him later so you can show off all you’ve learned.”
She pouts at the two men in front of her. “But I wanted to skate with Keith!”
“No can-do, tadpole.” Her pout increases but Shiro moves on. “Tell you what, you can skate with me instead. How does that sound?”
She takes a second to appraise him. Her gaze stalls on the scar on his nose and his prosthetic arm but they don’t seem to bother her too much because she nods mutely, her hands clasped behind her as she rocks on her heels.
“Alright then - you head over to the rest of the group and I’ll be there in a minute. Okay?”
She agrees again and makes it a few smooth strokes away before stopping to look at them again.
“Keith! You can’t leave until I say goodbye, okay?” She stares Keith down, somehow managing to look just as intimidating as Shiro can be even though she’s barely four feet tall.
Shiro looks expectantly over at him, eyebrows raised like: You gonna answer her?
“Uh - sure. Okay. I’ll be here.” He raises a hand in a quick wave, which she accepts and begins skating off again, pink skirt flapping against her legs.
“So,” Shiro cuts in, looking across the rink towards Lance to wave him over. “I’ll have Lance teach you the same stuff as the rest of the group and then a few other things on top of that. You’ll probably pick things up quickly so you can graduate onto the next few moves.” Lance halts next to them with a sharp skid to the side and Shiro greets him with a nod. “All stretched out?”
“Yup! I even got a little further on my back bend today.” Lance shakes his arms out at his side and rolls his neck. “It’s not like I needed it for what I’ll be doing today but whatever.”
Shiro ignores that last comment and gestures towards the opposite end of the rink.
“You two can work over there so you won’t be bombarded by twirling children. Lance - work him through bunny hops, pumps, lunges, mohawks, and some two foot spins. Once he’s got those down you can move onto chassés, crossovers, waltz jumps, and one foot spins.”
Lance glances over at Keith with a judgemental stare. “Are you sure he’ll get through all that?”
“Laaance.” Shiro draws out his name in a warning. “Don’t be an ass.”
“All I’m saying is he’s barely able to keep himself upright when he’s not moving.” Lance addresses Keith directly now. “Are you sure you’ve ever even been on ice before?”
Keith shoots him the most lethal glare he can manage. Flexible or not, this guy didn’t seem to care about anyone other than himself. “Shut up.”
“Lance. Play nice.” Shiro scolds. “You too, Keith. I’m counting on you guys to behave for the next hour and a half. Just - don’t kill each. That’s all I ask.”
Neither of them respond but Keith isn’t confident he can keep that promise.
With a long, drawn out sigh, Shiro gives up and leaves them alone to glare at one another.
It only really lasts a few seconds before Lance, obviously very put upon by the situation, rolls his eyes and skates away with one strong push.
“Let’s just get this over with.” He barely puts any effort in his movements and, thankfully, keeps his back to Keith as he has to put way too much energy into his movements. “Show me what you can do, Helmet Hair.”
Figure skating, Keith learns, is very, very different than hockey.
Well, he already knew that. Figure skating has no nets or pucks or players trying to slam you into the boards. But the technique - Keith has to ignore almost everything he was ever taught by his current coach. It’s aggravating, to say the least.
Lance makes him skate around in pathetic circles for a few minutes before he finally deems him capable of trying actual figure skating moves. Keith’s stomach flip flops nervously.
“So, the bunny hop.” Lance says, spinning around Keith in lazy circles. “You start with a one foot glide - I usually use my left foot - and swing yourself into a jump with your free foot. Then, push off on that toe pick and go back into a glide.” He straightens out on the ice and demonstrates. “Glide on one foot, pick with the other, glide back on the first. Left, right, left.” He skids to a halt and stands in front of Keith, clearly bored. “Your turn.”
Keith takes one deep breath, focuses on finding the right balance on his skate, and pushes forward. Tentatively, he lifts his right foot off the ice and makes a pitiful attempt at jumping on the ice. He feels his toe pick dig into the ice but uses too much strength on the push off and goes careening forward, nearly wiping out in the process. He stands up with windmilling arms and faces Lance who has a hand pressed to his face.
“Oh my god,” he mumbles. “This is going to be a long hour and a half.”
Keith manages to perform a mildly successful bunny hop after many attempts. Lance lets out an unenthusiastic cheer when Keith spins around with a small smile and takes the moment to remind him of how long it took him to get there.
Keith wishes it was possible to murder someone with just a look.
From there, he moves onto a pump - which is not nearly as challenging, lunges - also pretty straightforward, and mohawks - which stump him for a bit but he eventually suffers through a wobbly one and is given the okay to continue.
“Alright - the last one on the starter list is a two foot spin.” Lance begins to pivot around one foot before tucking his arms into his body and spinning at a speed that Keith is certain will make him hurl. He comes to an abrupt stop with a jab of his toe pick and looks at Keith with an eyebrow raised. “With your left toe pick in the ice, pump your right leg out to pick up speed. Once you’ve gotten enough momentum behind you, shift off of your pick and spin. Tadaa.”
“You say it like it’s so easy, but I’ll probably just end up face first on the ice.” Keith pushes his pick into the ice and slowly starts to rotate around it, arms extended to keep his balance.
“Yeah, probably.” Lance shrugs as he watches Keith turn in place.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Whatever, just start the spin, Mullet.”
Keith starts to push harder, praying that he doesn’t face plant, and slowly takes the weight off his pick. He does manage to get through a few full rotations but his weight quickly shifts too far to one side and he tumbles backwards onto his ass. He blows air through his teeth as he rubs at the small of his back with a wince.
“Well,” Lance appears beside him, squatting so he can look him in the eye. “At least it wasn’t your face.”
“ At least. ” Keith resists the urge to spit in his face.
“You know, this is honestly kind of impressive.” Lance watches him struggle to his feet, not offering any help as he wobbles. “We’ve been at this for the full hour and a half and yet you’ve barely managed to get through what those seven year olds -” he gestures across the rink. “- probably mastered in minutes.”
Keith clenches his fists at his side, eyes boring into the side of Lance’s head as he rises to his feet and skates backwards and twirls around Keith’s shaky form.
“I thought you were a pro on the ice, bro.” He clasps his hands behind his back as he talks, legs smoothly propelling him forward. “Scores hard, top player, golden child of the team. Did they mix up the names of something? ‘Cause I don’t see any of that here on this ice.” He folds his arms behind his head and grins teasingly at Keith as he moves. “You know, I teach four year olds who already skate backwards by themselves and yet here you are barely able to keep yourself upright.”
Keith can feel the anger pushing at his self control. He knows Lance is trying to get a rise out of him. He knows Lance wants to annoy him. But he can’t stop the knee jerk reaction that is his temper.
He notices that most of the kids have dispersed towards the rafters to greet their parents and Shiro is staring curiously towards the pair of them. Keith thinks of calling out to him, or just leaving entirely, but Lance continues to poke jabs at him.
“When Shiro asked me to help teach the tadpole class, I never thought I’d also get to teach a beached fish.” He rubs at his chin pensively, all attitude and conceit.
A higher pitched voice rings out from behind Keith’s shoulder and a familiar tuft of brown hair emerges to his left. “That doesn’t even make sense, Lance.”
“Shut up, Pidge!” Lance comes to a halt, eyes focusing in on the new comer. “Where did you even come from?”
“The depths of hell.” Pidge, now wearing skates, stops a few feet from the both of them, strangely interested in the drama unfolding. “You know, you’re usually a pain but today you’re being a first class ass.”
Keith feels a little relieved to have at least someone defending him, even though the aggravation still boils under his skin. He briefly wonders why Shiro didn’t intervene before Pidge.
“You’d be acting the same way if you had this mess dropped in your lap without warning.” Lance throws his hands up in the air dramatically.
Ah, and there it is. The metaphorical straw that breaks the metaphorical camel’s back.
Letting his growing temper get the better of him, Keith straight up lunges for Lance. He expects his feet to go flying out from underneath of him but, somehow, he stays upright and actually manages to snag the edge of Lance’s coat between his fingers before he’s backing away.
“Whoa! That was surprisingly nimble of you, Mullet. I’m actually impressed.” Lance comments. And damn him, he actually looks it. Genuine surprise lines his features. It only further fuels Keith’s anger.
“That.” he hisses. “Is not. My name.”
“Why the hell would you sport such an awful haircut if you didn’t want people to make fun of it?” Lance frowns at him. “There’s no way anyone actually likes that mistake of a style.”
This time, Keith manages to wrap his hand around Lance’s wrist and, man, does that wipe the grin off his smug face. He locks eyes with Keith and obviously sees the fury brewing there because he immediately starts moving away from him. Keith’s grip is strong, though, and his temper has fully taken over at this point so he just clings on as Lance drags them both across the ice.
“Ha,” Lance barks out a nervous laugh and starts prying at Keith’s fingers. “Well you’re, uh, improving quickly. Say - why don’t we try that two foot spin again?” Keith neither changes his expression nor removes his grip so Lance looks over to Pidge. “Pidge? How about some help here?”
“Mmmmm,” Keith hears Pidge hum to themself for a second. “Tempting, but no. Have fun, Lance.” And with that Pidge heads back over to the far side of the rink where Shiro still stands.
Lance locks eyes with Keith once more and, in a desperate attempt to break free, raises his arm to force Keith into a spin. By some miracle, Keith doesn’t fall back onto his ass. In fact, he successfully spins in place and cleanly stops himself with his right pick, locking eyes with Lance once more. Lance stares at him in disbelief, looking between his feet and his face in quick, panicked glances.
“Keith…”
Keith experiments with one push forward. Seems steady enough.
“ Keith. ”
Another step. Even better.
Keith’s lip twitches as he glares at Lance and -
“Don’t you dare.”
- speeds towards him.
Lance shrieks like he’s about to be skinned alive - which is a legitimate possibility at this moment in time - and speeds off across the rink. Keith, finally finally , steady on his feet, races after him. What Keith lacks in proper technique, he makes up for in speed. If there’s one thing he picked up from hockey, is how to get across a rink quickly. Sure, Lance is all elegance and grace, but that doesn’t mean anything when an angry hockey player prone to starting fights is hot on your heels. Keith nearly snags the back of his sweater a few times but Lance spins out of his reach just in time. As they near Shiro’s end of the rink, Keith realizes that his brother has left the ice and is leaning on the boards in amusement, chin rested in his hand.
Lance spots him only a few seconds later.
“Shiro!” He pants, his form breaking into a desperate flee. “Make him stop!”
Shiro makes no move to help. “You brought this on yourself, Lance.”
“I don’t want to be a teacher anymore!” He loops in a large arc around the ice but Keith follows a straight line across, cutting him off at the end.
“Nahhh,” Shiro’s voice carries over to them as they stand across from each other, both heaving in breaths, like two boxers in a ring. “You’re doing great! Besides, you got him out of his head and look - he’s skating perfectly!”
Keith takes one step forward and Lance all but jumps out of his skin.
“He’s gonna kill me !”
“Try not to get too much blood on the ice, Keith.” Keith doesn’t turn around to see his expression but he hears Shiro chuckle. He takes that as his invitation to beat the ever living crap out of this smart mouth in front of him and that-
That is something he does very well .
Keith is just about to fly towards Lance when a tiny voice rings out across the ice and breaks his focus.
“Keith!”
He glances over his shoulder to see Tia skating at full speed over to him, her hair no longer contained by an elastic and blowing around her face as she skates. Behind her, a concerned looking woman stands at the entrance of the rink, watching Tia race towards some stranger with bloodlust in his eyes.
“Tia?” Keith turns fully now, to face her, his attention momentarily diverted.
“Look! Look what I learned!” Mid-stroke she moves into an effortless bunny hop, mohawks to change direction, and then pushes into a near perfect two foot spin. She’s slightly wobbly as she comes to a stop but the stark difference between her execution of those moves and Keith’s is so painfully obvious that he has to hold back a cringe of embarrassment. “I can do them all by myself! Shiro says I’m a natural!”
Keith glances over at Shiro who has joined the woman on the ice, patting her shoulder reassuringly before skating off towards the three of them.
“Wow - um,” Keith tries to push down the still-hot anger boiling inside him and force out a smile as he talks. “That’s really good, Tia.”
She beams a blinding smile at him and twirls on the spot. “Now it’s your turn! Show me what you learned!”
Keith stalls. “Uhh - ”
“Yeah, Keith.” Lance’s voice, although still somewhat shaky, sing songs behind him. “Show her.”
Barely moving, he sends another look of death over his shoulder at Lance which shuts him up. Turning back to Tia, he fumbles for an excuse.
“You see, Tia…. My, uh, my skates aren’t the right size so - my feet are really hurting right now.” She dons that same pout from earlier so Keith adds. “Maybe next time?”
“Hmph,” she folds her arms over her chest with a sigh but accepts his mediocre excuse. “Fine. But you have to show me next time! You have to !” And with that, she pushes off and away, not giving Keith the chance to come up with a reason for why he can’t do that. She grants him one last wave before her mom scoops her up and carries her towards the main entrance.
Shiro looks back at the disappearing pair with a smile. “Well, it seems you made a friend, Keith. I’m proud.”
“Shut it, Shiro.”
“I remember back in school when you’d fight with everyone who so much as looked at you.” Shiro puts a hand over his heart. “Oh, how you’ve grown.”
“He hasn’t grown that much, seeing as he still picked a fight with me.” Lance skates past Keith, keeping a large gap between them.
“Yes, but you deserved that.”
“WHY IS NO ONE ON MY SIDE?” Lance throws his hands up - dramatic seems to be a character trait of his.
“Do you really want an answer to that?” Shiro quirks an eyebrow at him.
Lance doesn’t grace them with another response, instead he crosses his arms and skates away with an angry huff. Shiro just shakes his head.
“Is he always like that?” Keith asks. Lance has now found Pidge by the rink entrance, who fiddles with the laces of their skates while Lance rambles animatedly. His pompousness is still palpable from this far away which honestly isn’t shocking. And to think, Keith was flustered over him just hours ago.
“Well,” Shiro rolls his shoulders as he talks, trying to work out some kinks in the muscles. “He isn’t that bad . Sure, he likes to poke fun at others, but he really is a good guy and an incredible skater.”
“I don’t know, Shiro. He’s kind of an ass.”
“Give it some time.” Shiro looks over at the skater in question, his gaze pensive. “He grows on you.”
“Yeah,” Keith snorts. “I’m sure.”
“Anyways,” Shiro continues, changing the topic. “How was the lesson? You looked pretty good at the end there.”
“When I was trying to murder Lance? Nothing like white hot fury to focus your mind.” Keith jokes but Shiro doesn’t react. He continues. “Don’t get too excited, though; up until then I hadn’t improved much from when the lesson started.”
“Mmm, well, just remember that you’re still adjusting to the skates. You’ll get there.” Shiro smiles. “And Allura was right: you’re better than I was when I started.”
“Okay who are you and what did you do with my brother?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Shiro rolls his eyes. “Honestly though, I think you should continue. I can already see a difference in your stance.”
“Shirooooo,” Keith whines.
“I’m serious, Keith.” He places a hand on his shoulder. “I really do think this will help you.”
Keith stares at his brother skeptically. Nothing about today makes him want to come back for another torture session. It was nothing but embarrassment, harassment, and frustration. What Shiro sees in him and in this sport, he doesn’t know.
Shiro holds up a hand, halting the thoughts rolling through Keith’s mind.
“Just think about it. Okay? That’s all I ask.”
Again, Shiro is stubborn. He has this way of getting you to do things you told yourself you’d never do. Not only that, but he makes you feel like it was your idea in the first place. It’s something Keith has both hated and admired in him for a long time, and it’s probably why he makes such a good coach.
So, with a heavy sigh, Keith nods. “Fine. But I promise nothing.”
“I expected nothing else.” Shiro smiles warmly down at him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Now, I’ve got another lesson to get to. You can stick around if you like, but I won’t be done for a few hours.”
“I’ll probably just head home and catch up on the sleep that was stolen from me .” Keith narrows his eyes but Shiro just laughs.
“You do that.”
Keith doesn’t do that.
He was going to leave but, after he pried of his skates, he looked back over at the rink to where Shiro was demonstrating a jump to Lance and Pidge and had gotten sucked in.
He’s never actually seen his brother compete. After Shiro left their hockey team, Keith started to harbour a lot of resentment towards him. They had grown up playing hockey together and it had become one of the major foundations of their relationship. So, when Shiro had left to skate with someone he met at a competition, it was hard for Keith to accept. They didn’t talk for a while after that. Keith had poured himself into his training and Shiro had done the same. It took a long time before they started talking again, let alone get back to the close bond they had before. Keith was sometimes still worried it would never quite be back to normal.
So Keith can’t really be blamed for not going to any of his competitions. Every invitation Shiro extended to him was just another dig into that open wound that had formed years earlier. But now, hidden at the back of the rafters, Keith finally watches his brother perform the sport he left years of talent and skill for.
And he is good.
Keith doesn’t know much about figure skating, but he can tell when someone knows what they’re doing and Shiro… He moves like he had been born to do this. With all the grace that Lance had, combined with the power from his hockey days, Shiro moves through complicated jumps like they were nothing. Keith watches him jump off the ice, spin so fast that he lost count of the rotations, and land smoothly, leg extended behind him. Keith could barely jump an inch off the ice and his brother could fling himself at least a foot, if not more, into the air with barely any visible effort.
The other two skaters are hardly any worse. Keith isn’t well-versed enough in the sport to spot the technical differences between them and their coach, so they look just as graceful, just as smooth, and just as impressive as his brother. It irks him to think this, but, now that he was doing more than beginner’s moves, Lance looks like a professional. And Pidge, despite being several heads shorter than the other two, completes everything they do with just as much perfection.
However, tucked in the shadows of the rafters, Keith starts to feel like he’s looking in on something he shouldn’t be. He peels his eyes away from the ice and begins to make his way to the front door. Allura is there, talking to a tall man with shock red hair and the most ridiculous moustache Keith has ever seen. She spots him as he reaches the front door, catching his eye just in time to grant him another bright smile before he disappears out into the parking lot.
The walk back to the subway is plagued with thoughts with his brother and his students gliding across the ice like it was nothing. He remembers how Lance barely needed to look where he was going while he skated, the movements second nature to him. He remembers the ease with which Allura moved and how talented she must be if she was the person that planted this sport in his brother’s heart. Keith barely registers when the subway doors close and he sways from side to side by the bumping of the train. Instead, he begins to wonder what kind of routines they’ve performed over the course of their training… What they look like in an actual competition, not just goofing around on the ice with their friends.
He wonders all these things but it isn’t until he’s back in the cramped and chaotic mess of his apartment that he pulls his laptop off his coffee table and hesitantly types four words into his search bar.
Shirogane Takashi figure skating
Several hours later, Keith can be found asleep on his couch, head propped up on an old, moth-eaten pillow, snoring softly. Resting on his stomach, his laptop plays a video of two skaters, hands linked, gliding across polished ice as a roaring crowd cheers them on.