Solving Keith

Maybe.

Keith walks in, remembering to duck his head this time so he doesn't concuss himself.

Most things in Lance's room are blue: curtains, bedspread, his laptop case, his headphones- everything.

He hesitantly walks over to the queen sized bed in the corner, where Lance had already crawled back into the pile of pillows and stuffed animals, making room for Keith.

Keith can't help but notice how nicely his dark red sweatpants fit him in all the right ways, but he knows better than to say as much.

"Well... talk," Lance snaps, crossing his arms over his chest, the strap of his tank top almost sliding off his tanned shoulder.

Keith swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. "I'm, uh, I-I'm sorry."

Lance raises an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "That's it?"

Keith sits down in the navy blue beanbag by the bed, running his hands through his hair. "I... I thought you only got me a gift to make fun of me."

Lance's eyebrow raises higher. "Make fun of you for what? And how on earth did it even come across that way?"

Keith licks his lips, looking away. "I thought you were making fun of me for being an alien!" he says, throwing his hands in the air, his eyes wide like Lance should have known that's what he meant. "I thought you only got me a gift because I don't have a real birthday on earth."

Lance's brow comes back down. He scoots closer to the edge of the bed, looking down at Keith with a puzzled look. "Why would I do something like that?"

Keith shakes his head, distracting himself with the Rubic's cube he found on the floor. "I don't know. I just acted out like usual- I didn't even think about it."

Lance bites at his cheek and scratches his head, his brown curls a mess from rolling around in the bed. "Well," he sighs. "Just so you know, I really don't care that you're an alien."

Keith looks up at him for once, green eyes meeting blue. He tilts his head a little, seemingly searching for a punchline of some sort.

"I'm serious," Lance swears, a hand over his heart. "Honestly, I'm more upset about the mixed signals. I couldn't care less about the alien thing."

Keith's confusion grows, "mixed signals? What does that mean?"

Lance huffs, lying down on his back, his foot dangling over the edge of the bed. "You," he starts, rubbing his face in frustration. "You've been flirting with me! Or... it seemed like you were at least. Then, you go and act like you can't stand me! You're smirking and teasing one second- and a total dick the next!"

Keith blinks, his brows knitting together. He scratches his cheek as the realization sets in. "Oh."

Lance scoffs, "yeah. 'Oh'."

Keith slumps in the bean bag, scratching his cheek again. "I didn't know I was doing that. How was I flirting?"

Lance stares at him, jaw slack. "Are you joking?" Keith shakes his head, his eyes wide and curious. Lances sighs again, running his hands through his hair, "like, you act like you, you know, like me."

"I do like you."

Lance huffs, "not like a friend, like a partner, like you want to date me."

Keith's lips puff out, seeming to be thinking more than he'd ever had to before. "I was flirting?"

"It felt like it."