Whispers of a shot (but you didn't hear it)

2

Saturday came incredibly fast.

Slightly too fast, Shiro thought, as he stood in front of a floor length mirror trying to work out which shirt he should wear to dinner that night.

"Shiro, quick question," Keith asked from the doorway, smirking and leaning on the wooden frame, "what the hell are you doing?"
Shiro spun around, shocked. "Jesus, Keith, haven't you ever heard of knocking? It's this thing normal people do."
Keith shrugged. "We share this place asshole, knocking is for losers."
"Keith!"
"You still haven't answered my question," Keith prompted with a quirked smile.
Shiro sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "I was wondering what shirt to wear to the date tonight."
"Your options?"
Shiro held up the shirts that were in his hands. "White or purple?"
"Is the purple one the tight one?" Keith asked bluntly.
"I think so, why?"
He hoped he wasn't blushing as much as he felt like he was.

Keith shrugged again, rearranging his position against the doorframe. "It'll make you more hot, and he'll probably like you more."
"I don't think he's in this for the looks, you know," Shiro said with a sad laugh, quickly slipping the shirt over his vest and doing up the buttons.
Keith frowned. "You're plenty attractive, so why not?
"Well, y'know..." Shiro trailed off, holding the metal arm out lamely in front of him. Even in the mirror he could the the faint bumps and ridges of the scars that tracked his upper body. Would Lance notice them like he did? Would Lance object?

He didn't even realise he had unbuttoned the shirt until he felt Keith's hand on his arm, looking up at him with a worried look. "Shiro, you're not ugly, and he's not gonna' fixate on them," Keith assured, turning to the mirror, "he probably won't even notice."
"What if he asks?"
A glove appeared in his line of sight. "Just tell him you don't wanna' talk about it," Keith stated with a shrug, "if he keeps going, he's not the right guy for you to be with."
Shiro took the glove out of Keith's hand, slipping it over his prosthetic and rolling the cuff of the shirt down. "Am I doing the right thing?"
"You can only try."

Deep down, he knew Keith was right.

"I'll see you later then," he finally said, spinning round with a slight flourish once he had retrieved his jacket off of the top of the mirror. Keith nodded, before walking over and pulling the taller man into a hug which Shiro happily reciprocated.
"He's picking you up right?"
"Yeah, He's driving us there."
"Well, you know the code," Keith murmured into his shirt, "if you're uncomfortable, I'll come and get you, just say the words."
"Thank you, really Keith."
A soft hand clapped his back, and he felt Keith pull away as the buzzer ripped through the silence. "Now, go and get your man, I think he's waiting."

~

"I hope you like this place," Lance mused as they turned onto the main road through the city, "its the place I always take my parents, and they love it, so I hope you like it too."
Shiro laughed under his breath, relaxing into the passenger seat of Lance's slightly bashed-up car. "I'm sure I will," he said quietly, turning to look at Lance, "what kind of food is it?"
Lance hummed in thought, hissing slightly as the clutch refused to bite. "It's a bit of everything, really," he explained, never once taking his eyes off the road, "but I'd really recommend the chicken burgers or the chorizo tortellini- Wait, you're not vegetarian, right?"
Shiro shook his head, and Lance sighed loudly in relief. "That's good," he said, slightly breathlessly, "their vegetarian stuff isn't too great."
"Well," Shiro said nonchalantly, "I won't have that then."
Lance laughed, turning the car down a side street. "Like, they have these salads that are decent, but the dressings?" He pulled a face, causing Shiro to laugh under his breath. "They've got so much vinegar in them, I can literally feel my skin burning as I eat them."
"That bad, eh?"