Dirty Laundry [REPOSTED]

Chapter 8

Sunday, December 18th

8:37 A.M.

It was 8:37 a.m. when Keith woke to an empty bed, and in his groggy state, he panicked.

Mornings were always a surprise for Keith. He was never sure what kind of person he'd become when the sun came up, and often he was forced to roll with it. So when Keith's eyelashes unglued themselves to look at the ceiling that morning, he took in a breath of morning air and realized a few things.

One, last night had actually happened. He wasn't sure if it had been an insanely vivid dream or not, but the logical part of Keith's brain told him he definitely wasn't making their heart to heart moment up.

Two, he had slept in a bed with Lance McClain. All night in fact. And it was a twin bed, so there was a 90% chance of unintentional cuddling. Or spooning. Or both.

Three, Lance was not in said bed, which either meant the cuddling had gotten too intense and he had left to sleep downstairs, or that he was just awake and Keith was delirious.

Keith rolled onto his side in search of his missing sleepmate, sticky sweat and long red sleep marks tattooing his skin. He only found a wrinkled indent in the sheets, with lingering slobber stains left on the pillow. Lance, where was Lance?

In his attempt to leave the bed Keith tripped, eyelids still heavy and legs like wet noodles. His knee rammed against the bedside table, almost knocking off the lamp and shooting a pain through his sleepy nerves.

"SHIT-" He yelped into the morning, his first word very eloquent. "Shit, shit fuck shit-" He gripped onto his knee tightly, hoping the pain would subside. He let his body roll onto the floor, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw.

As the pain slowly disappeared, Keith's surroundings began to clear. Soft light faded through the blinds, and he noticed the door open a crack. Standing up and running a hand through his morning hair, Keith peeked his head out the bedroom door.

The hallway only held one sign of life; it was the offkey singing that echoed from behind the bathroom door. Keith immediately recognized them as Lance's horrible vocals; their long car ride had left an imprint in his mind that he could never escape.

"I heard that you were talkin' shit and you didn't think that I would HEAR IT-"

Oh god. Was Lance singing Gwen Stefani? In the shower?

Keith slipped out of the bedroom in his pajama t-shirt and shorts, making the short trek to the bathroom. The closer he got to the steamy door, the more he heard, and the more blackmail worthy his situation was becoming. Lance's phone must've been playing the original song, but Lance's rendition? Far better. It was loud, and entirely ridiculous, and it was obvious he knew every single line. How often did Lance even listen to Gwen Stefani?

"Few times I've been around that track so it's not just gonna happen like that-"

Keith's fingers went fumbling with the phone in his hand, hoping to capture the moment as a gift to the group chat. He opened the iphone's camera and immediately began recording.

Lance belted out the lyrics, probably confident that no one was listening. Was he an idiot? Alright, Keith already knew the answer to that. Still, Lance had five siblings, he should know better than to sing such an awful song out loud. Someone could take the opportunity to use his vulnerable state against him. Just as Keith was doing now.

"Few times I've been around that track so it's not just gonna happen like that-"

Oh God, Pidge was going to be so pleased.

"CAUSE I AIN'T NO HOLLABACK GIRL-"

Keith suppressed a giggle, amazed that he was actually getting this recorded, but even more amazed that Lance was still singing. How did he even know all the lyrics?