i bet you look good on the dancefloor

Chapter 4: of déjà vu & excessive flirting

Chapter Text

Lance's first sexuality crisis happened all the way back in junior year of high school.

He was known as the Ladies Man, the Beast in Bed, the guy your mother warned you about and your father pushed out of range with a long broomstick. Lance had the looks and the game, and whenever those failed, well, he had the sick guitar skills. The ladies sure appreciated a boy who knew how to play. It was super romantic whenever he played under their windows or something like that. He honestly never fully grasped this concept in particular.

Yet when he had his first... thoughts about the guys around him, he wasn't really that shocked. Not as surprised as he thought he'd be, really. Almost disappointing.

When a guy from his parallel class pulled Lance into the bathroom stall – they were talking about something beforehand but for the life of him Lance couldn't remember what it was about – he was almost excited. He had his fair share of stall adventures but never with another dude and that made his heartbeat faster due to anything but fear. He was so ready to give his first BJ - or receive one, didn't matter, the guy was really damn beautiful even if he looked like one of those basic bass-playing emo stoners – that he almost whined in overwhelming sadness when that guy only pulled out a folded piece of paper containing the answers of their upcoming physics test and asked if he was interested in buying it.

Wow, way to leave a guy hanging.

Lance had emerged from that bathroom as a brand new man and when he told Hunk about it, his friend merely shrugged and they continued talking about their history project like nothing happened.

When Lance first meets Keith officially, he somehow knows for sure that the other won't really care if he decides to pull some choice moves on him. Keith seems just like his best friend in that aspect: uncaring of social norms, desensitized, and completely immune to the finer aspects of Lance's flirting.

A few minutes into their one-on-one routine practice, Lance knows that he can get away with shameless flirting, 'accidental' physical contact. Keith only rolls his eyes at the lame pickup lines and continues teaching him like ten variations of a smooth slide-out and overly-complicated locking. The black-haired man doesn't bristle as much as he did on the first day, sometimes drops incredibly sarcastic remarks – "if you have the time to run your mouth, you have the time to learn these moves, faster, McClain" – but makes no move to pull out the sound system's cords and strangle Lance with them.

That knowledge leaves the brunet's blood pumping and mind reeling, coming up with all those smooth one-liners, all the while working up a fine layer of sweat and trying not to die. Exploring what makes Keith tick is the fun part.

Comments regarding the instructor's appearance don't affect him at all – it's like trying to pour water on geese, absolutely impossible. Whenever Lance so much as insinuates that Keith has thighs meant to crush a man's skull, the other writes him off as another mouthy fuckboy who's all about talking big and speeds up his movements just to spite him. Lance can keep up, sure, but he's still lacking.

(Keith's eyes don't miss the fact that Lance is getting better and faster with every repeat.)

Keith snorts when the brunet fucks up a rushed slide-out and throws a smug 'again' over a naked shoulder, eyelashes fluttering innocently. Lance sticks out his tongue at that and turns his attention back to the mirror to observe the instructor's fluid movements, the beats of 'Needed Me' too far away.

They have a stare-off, gazes stuck on the reflective surface – honestly, if they were looking at each other directly right now, Lance suspects that there'd be a whole lot more eye sex involved – and Keith commands him to get into position, this time to dance to the song from the very beginning. Damn, Lance sure loves that bossy side of him. In certain situations, of course.