Premium Seats [Klance] ✅

16 - Just Talk, Buddy

A/N
One heartfelt chapter comin right up.

I appreciate your votes and comments, folks! Love u guys :')

LANCE

"That's cheating!"

"It's called 'tactic', Blue," Keith remarked slyly from beside him. "You obviously don't have one."

Lance scoffed. He shifted the gear so now it was at a full speed. On the screen, his BMW M8 began to zoom off from where it had smashed into a tunnel wall, having been jumped by Keith's Audi RS3 almost out of nowhere. That thing was a literal beast.

He had to admit; Keith drove like a real champ. For someone who personally thought that the boy's choice of racing car was wacky, Lance was beginning to doubt whether he himself had a poor judgement regarding cars in general. Either that, or he'd subconsciously underestimated Keith's driving style just because the boy rode a motorcycle in real life.

The two of them were on their fourth round by now. Really, they would've been playing air hockey or shooting some hoops if it weren't for Lance insisting that they go for another round. Admittedly, Lance just wanted to beat Keith, considering the latter kept on dominating the first place and giving him one of his rare, shit-eating grins. It was starting to become downright ridiculous; nobody can be that good. And Lance was beginning to wonder – inane though it was – whether the boy had some kind of magical abililty that he didn't know of that could make him win every racing game.

He accelerated; the finishing line was just around the corner; Keith's Audi RS3 expanded into view; Lance revved his engine; his blue BMW sped past the red Audi—

FIRST PLACE! blinded Lance's eyes as it flashed on the screen. He blinked, watching the rankings list replace the neon words, showing him that Keith had been nudged to second place, and below that some other kids he wasn't familiar with. He couldn't believe it.

But before he could jump from his seat and point a finger at Keith and say "Beat that, Mullet!" (because he wasn't dumb enough to be that cocky), he turned slowly to look at his friend. He blinked again. He blinked a lot more than necessary for the past few minutes. "What?" Keith said, a small smile playing at his lips. "You beat me at last – aren't you supposed to dance to it or something?"

"You let me win," Lance stated slowly, his voice accusatory..

"No, I didn't,"

"Yes, you did,"

"Did not,"

"Did too,"

"Because you won one out of four rounds?" Keith said, hopping off his seat. "Don't you believe in determination? Are we really gonna argue over this?"

"Of course not," Lance huffed, following Keith as the boy made his way towards the air hockey table. "I'm not five."

Keith inserted three coins into the slot and picked up a puck. The table began to hum. "Let's see if you can beat me," he said with a small smirk, looking almost smug as he cocked an eyebrow. This, Lance noted, was Keith's game-on face. And he was honestly kind of digging it.

It turned out they were both quite good at air hockey, so it was relatively a challenge to try to outscore one another; Keith scored after Lance and Lance scored after Keith and it went on in that order until the time was up. Eventually, Lance dragged his friend over to the two-player basketball, ignoring the latter's protests at how unfair it was, owing that Lance had more experience with basketball – not to mention how adept he was at shooting hoops.

Granted, Lance was having the time of his life as he watched Keith try to catch up with his scores. There was no other word for it; the boy sucked. He couldn't help but laugh as Keith, now palpably frustrated, shoved him aside and tried to shoot using both his hands. In return – and because riling Keith up was apparently his favourite thing to do – he elbowed Keith's arm, causing Keith to miss the target. "Asshole!" Keith yelled, though laughing now, and hurled a ball in Lance's direction.