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Shiro was walking through the hallway, laughing at something sarcastic Keith had said about the opposite team when he meets the most beautiful person in the whole world.
Or more like he crashes into him and Shiro panics when the guy all but bounces off his bulk and into a wall.
"OHMYGODIMSOSORRY," Shiro rushes out going behind the man to check if he's alright.
The guy of short curly brown hair, sharp nose, blue eyes and freckles across his nose, turns to lean on the wall instead, squinting at him with contained rage.
"Watch where you're going, you-"
Shiro winces, but the man stops talking. His blue eyes look over Shiro's face carefully and then to the number on his uniform. Shock grows on his expression.
"Look," Shiro tries, hands up in a placating manner and about to apologize again.
"Oh, my god, you're Takashi Shirogane," the guy blurts out, and Shiro blushes because cute guy knows his name, "You're the quarterback of the Black Lions."
Shiro laughs, breathy, "Y-yeah, I am."
The guy huffs, awe in his voice, and then he blinks, clearing his throat, "I was told I might meet you here, but I never thought I'd actually stumble into you."
Shiro grimaces, "I'm sorry about that. Are you okay?"
"I'm alright," cute guy hums, stepping closer into Shiro and looking him up and down, "You're bigger than you look in TV."
Shiro chuckles, nervously stepping back, but cute guy closes the distance again.
"O-oh, thanks?"
Cute guy smirks, "It is a compliment, sugar. Take it."
Shiro gulps. "T-thank you," he repeats, a little more confident but still nervous.
"You're very welcome." Cute guy flutters his eyes and Shiro feels lightheaded, "Nice meeting you."
"Nice to meet you, uh-" Shiro frowns and cute guy blinks, smile frozen, "What's your name?"
"What?" Cute guy asks, brow pinched slightly.
"Your name?" Shiro asks, "You haven't told me your name."
"You don't know who I am?" he asks back, disappointment crossing through his eyes.
Shiro feels his heartbeat stumble with hurt, "Sorry, have we met before?"
Cute guy's jaw falls open, gasp falling from his mouth when he brings one hand to his chest, as if Shiro has directly harmed his heart.
"Excuse me?" Cute guy gasps dramatically, "Are you serious?"
Shiro panics. He looks extremely familiar, but he can't recall from where.
"Sorry," Shiro mutters, and Cute guy scoffs, "I'm really sorry. I think I don't remember you."
"Dios mío," the guy sighs exasperated, and his incredulous laugh sounds too bitter. Shiro doesn't like how it sounds, "I can't believe it."
"Hey, Shiro," Keith calls for him, trotting back to them. Shiro doesn't know when he left them alone, "We have to go."
"Yeah," Shiro answers, then turns to cute guy with an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry for crashing into you. See you after the game?"
Cute guy scoffs, crossing his arms, "How about at halftime," he corrects, giving a look at Keith behind Shiro and smirking, "At least I can see there's a fan in the Black Lions."
Shiro frowns, confused, and watches him walk away, trying not to ogle his backside.
When he turns to look at his best friend, he finds him jaw slacked, eyes bright in awe.
"Oh, shit," he breathes out, and Shiro's frown deepens.
"What's wrong?" Shiro asks, and Keith looks at him with a stunned smile.
"That was Lance McClain."
Shiro tilts his head, the name sounding familiar.
"Is he an old acquaintance of ours?" Shiro asks, turning his head to look over where the named Lance disappeared.
He doesn't expect Keith to punch his arm hard.
"Ouch!" He squeaks, jumping away from him, "Why?!"
"Lance McClain!" Keith hisses, "The Lance McClain."
Shiro blinks, and then he realizes.
"Oh."
He's an idiot.
By the time the clock announces half time, the Black Lions are losing 12 - 17 against the Galra.
Shiro is responsible for it, even if Keith pats him in the back saying that he's not.
But Keith doesn't understand, of course he is guilty that they are losing. He's been distracted. His thoughts full of strategies and plays have been replaced by blue eyes and a sultry smirk. Then by a disappointed look and an offended gasp.
Lance McClain.
Shiro doesn't even listen to much music but the name rings lots of bells. And now he can't get him out of his head.
He still can't believe he almost ran over the guy and had the audacity to not recognize him.
He's such a dumbass.
"Shirogane!" He flinches, straightening his back to an almost perfect posture, and then Coach Alfor is stepping in front of him, brow pinched.
"What's wrong with you?" He asks, coach-voice booming through the hallway and making Shiro's team flinch even from afar, "You ruined a perfect play back there!"
Shiro takes a breath and nods.
"I'm sorry, sir. Not going to happen again, sir."
Alfor sighs, shaking his head.
"Come on, boy," he says patting his shoulder and then guiding him back to the locker room, "We're going to fix this thing."
Shiro hums non-committedly. And then he pauses, looking over his shoulder to where the court has gone dark and the announcer presents the halftime show.
Something tugs at his heart when he hears Lance's voice muffled by the people's cheers, and he's not proud at how much he wants to be out there instead of being the Black Lions' quarterback —his biggest dream as a kid.
He's not a fan. Of Lance nor of music. But he wishes he was.
"Shirogane," Alfor insists with a squeeze Shiro can't feel because of the uniform, and Shiro follows him to the locker room, steeling himself to get this shit over with.
"Yeah, let's go."
The roar coming from the court when Lance flourishes at least five times is deafening.
Shiro stands in the end of the hallway, the lights from the show turning off to spare darkness for the court to be cleared of and for the dancers to run to the locker rooms. He takes a deep breath when he catches Lance pausing in his trot, and instead of following the rest of the dancers, he walks towards Shiro, stopping just a foot away from him.
"So?" He asks, chest heaving from the soft pants and temple dripping from sweat. Shiro admires his stamina, considering how much dancing and performing while singing must take from his energy, "You know who I am now?"
Shiro nods shortly and gulps when Lance just hums.
"Good thing, then," he sighs, eyes fluttering at Shiro and making him blush, "See ya."
"Wait," Shiro asks.
And to his relief —or mortification— Lance does wait, turning back to him again. He's devastatingly handsome, even with his eyeliner a little smudged and practically soaked in his own sweat.
"Can I ask you out?" Shiro asks, pleads really, and Lance's smile unfurls slowly.
"Can you?" He asks, tilting his head, "You didn't know who I was before."
"And I'm sorry about that," Shiro apologizes, "I don't really listen to music."
Lance makes a face and Shiro hits himself mentally.
He sighs, "Please, let me make it up to you."
Lance hums, and then looks at the score of the game, brow quirking. "Win this game and I'll let you ask me out," he says, and Shiro swallows.
"Only ask you out?" He asks, worried and Lance shrugs.
"The rest is up to you, Takashi," he drawls, leaning a bit to smirk at him.
It shouldn't be intimidating because Shiro is almost a head taller than him, but it still makes him nervous.
"Okay," he agrees, determined, "I will."
"Looking up to it." Lance winks at him and then turns on his heel, walking without care through the already bright court.
Shiro sighs, too charmed by how Lance waves and hops when the audience see him, screaming and cheering.
"Apologized?" Keith asks when Shiro arrives to the bench, and Shiro sighs.
"Now I have to win this shit," he mutters, looking over the other side to the opposite team.
Keith just raises his eyebrows, expression barely visible through the helmet.
"Not only because of Alfor?" He asks a bit later, and Shiro nods.
"I have an opportunity to make it up to Lance," he says simply, “But we have to win.”
Keith nods. "Let's to this, then.”
Shiro smiles at him and Keith pats his shoulder.
He watches him run towards the middle of the court, where most of the players are ready to start, but then Keith turns on his trot, running backwards, "Don't get distracted by pretty blue eyes, though!"
Shiro chuckles, "That's too late."
The last whistle announces the end of the game, the score a tight 31-32, and the Black Lions win the title for 7th time in a row. Shiro throws his hands up above his head, the adrenaline cursing through his blood keeping him from feeling the pain in his body, right shoulder still pulsing and hurting from a tackle he took to protect Keith while he had the ball.
The people in the stadium scream in cheers, and Shiro's team run over him to celebrate, carrying him over their shoulders and bringing him up and down.
When they hit the locker rooms, happiness coursing through the air between them, Coach Alfor steps in with a wide smile, patting congratulations every shoulder he could find.
"As past quarterback of the Black Lions," he started when he reached Shiro's, "I thank you for keeping the title."
The team laughs. Shiro rolls his eyes.
"As your coach," Alfor continues, making everyone go quiet, "I'm very proud of you."
"Thank you, sir," Shiro sighs and Alfor smiles.
"Hit the showers," he orders, coach voice on but a little too bright around the edges, "We have something to celebrate."
The team erupts in cheers and Shiro grins, turning to his locker to retrieve his clean clothes. When he pulls off his shirt, he starts to notice how the locker room goes quiet, a little "oh my god" resounding in the silence.
Shiro pauses, frowning, and looks over his shoulder.
"Lance," he exhales when he sees him standing there, arms crossed over his chest and giddy smirk.
"Hey," Lance greets, light and coolly, almost nonchalant, "Congrats."
Shiro swallows and nods, "Thank you."
They stare into each other's eyes for long, Lance's blue gaze being easy to get lost on.
"So," Shiro tries, looking around the locker room and finding all of his teammates staring at them in utter shock. Lance arches an eyebrow, "Um-"
"Ask him out, you dumbass!" Keith whispers heatedly from beside him.
Lance's gaze falls on him briefly, lips curling in a grin, "Better follow your right hand's orders, Captain Shirogane."
Shiro chokes, liking a little too much the way Captain Shirogane sounds on Lance's voice.
"Do you wanna get coffee sometime?" Shiro asks, shyly.
"Coffee?" Lance asks, brow arching, "Sometime?"
Shiro nods, quick and short.
"How about you invite him to the party we're having?" Someone behind Lance proposes, and the rest of the team agree with grunts and nods.
"You can go to the party if you like to," Shiro murmurs when Lance seems to like the idea, "But I also would like coffee? If you want?"
Lance looks him up and down, considering, "I'm more of a tea kind of guy."
Shiro deflates at that, "Oh, okay."
"But coffee doesn't sound so bad," Lance says with a roll of his eyes.
"Really?" Shiro asks, maybe too hopeful, but Lance seems pleased.
"Only if it's tomorrow morning," Lance conditions with a smirk, leaning up to Shiro and settling his hands on his bare chest, eyes going wider when he taps on Shiro’s pec. His grin is disbelieving and sharp, "At your place."
There's a round of wolf-whistling and suggestive 'Oh's, and Shiro feels himself flush up to his ears.
"That'll mean you have to stay at my place," he whispers, realizing what it means the moment he says it, "U-unless you want to head out there first thing in the morning."
Lance chuckles, rolling his eyes fondly.
"Okay, sent me the address," he teases, looking at Shiro through his lashes, "Or let's head there after the party. Whatever you decide."
Shiro nods, Lance's fingers tapping his chest and up to his shoulders making him burn up.
"Kiss him, you idiot," Keith hisses beside them, almost exasperated.
Lance tilts his head towards Keith, "You really are nothing without your running back, huh?"
"Shut up," Shiro grunts, pulling Lance closer and kissing him breathless.
The locker room bursts into cheers.
Shiro wishes he had some privacy with Lance when they first kissed. He wishes he had the opportunity to just kiss him until it was late enough for them to not go to the party. To just go to his apartment instead and keep kissing him until the sun raised again.
But the privacy he does have after the party, to kiss and kiss and kiss Lance until both of them are short of breath, makes it all worth it.
Shiro wakes up before him, hand keeping Lance's body tangled in the sheets snugly to Shiro's side.
'I'm so damn lucky,' Shiro thinks while he brushes Lance's short hair with his hand, curls soft to the touch, 'He's so beautiful.'
Lance blushes when he tells him so, when blue eyes flutter open and find his in the makeshift darkness of the room.
"Shut up," he hisses, leaning up to kiss him until Shiro gasps, "Coffee?"
Shiro blinks down at him, "I have tea if you want."
"Oh, no," Lance says, pulling himself up to look at him with a grin, "You promised me coffee, Captain Shirogane."
Shiro groans and pulls him down to kiss him again. Lance yelps when Shiro manages to turn their positions around, his eyes blue and wide blinking up at him from over the wrinkled blankets.
"Don't call me that," Shiro warns, and Lance chuckles.
"Maybe I will."
He does call him that, breathless and moaning, and Shiro is sure he won't be able to be called like that by teammates or the press ever again without blushing.
'I'm in love,' Shiro realizes belatedly, watching Lance pad barefooted through his apartment, one of Shiro's jerseys loose and hanging from his lithe frame, "I'm in love."
Lance whips his head around to him, wide-eyed, and Shiro's stomach drops. He said that out loud.
Fuck.
"I-"
But Lance is running towards him, putting his face just an inch or so away from Shiro. He's obviously standing on his tiptoes.
"Are you?" He whispers, eyes bright and cheeks aflame, "Are you in love with me?"
Shiro's first thought is to panic. Second is to deny it. To keep his feelings hidden to avoid scaring Lance with how deep they run. But there is hope in Lance's expression; Shiro has hope, too.
"I..."
"Because," Lance continues, frantic and breathless, "I've had the biggest crush on you ever since your first season with the Black Lions."
Shiro blinks. He wasn't even the quarterback then. Just some guy in the defense.
"And I know we just met," Lance keeps rambling, "but you're so cute and fun to be with and I know you might think this was just a one-night-stand-"
"I don't do one-night-stands," Shiro interrupts carefully, eyes wide. Lance blinks once.
"Oh," Lance sighs out, "oh."
"Yeah," Shiro whispers, "I wouldn't have brought you here if I hadn't-" felt something as strong as what I'm feeling, he doesn't say. He knows how hyper focused he can be when he has feelings for someone. "You're so fantastic, Lance. How do you expect me not to...?"
Lance huffs out a laugh, nervous and shocked, "What? Fall in love with me?"
Shiro looks at him. Really looks. And Lance's smile uncurls a bit, becoming wobbly.
"Fall in love with you," Shiro agrees, all his universe already orbiting around the guy standing in front of him, "It's impossible."
Lance mouths and looks away. "God, you know how to talk to a guy," he whispers, almost bitterly.
"You know that's not true," Shiro chuckles, "I suck at flirting."
"And this is not flirting?" Lance asks, finger reaching Shiro's hand with a tap.
"This is more than that."
Lance hums, eyes fluttering up at him, "A confession?"
Shiro nods, taking his hand.
"A vow, if you will."
Lance huffs, "You barely know me."
"And you me," Shiro reminds, "But you had the biggest crush on me, right?"
"This isn't a crush anymore," Lance mutters, suddenly shy.
"It's not," Shiro concedes, stepping closer, "Lance, would you be with me?"
Lance feigns to consider, a telltale of a smile already showing his answer. "For how long?" He asks, seemingly for good measure.
"For as long as you'd have me."
Lance smiles, "That's a long time, Captain."
Shiro smiles back, cupping his jaw gently, "Wouldn't have it any other way."
He feels Lance's smile into the kiss.
"Love you, too, by the way," Lance adds a bit later, steaming cup in his hands, after Shiro had kissed red his lips.
"Good to know," Shiro teases softly and Lance snorts, shoving him by the shoulder.
And considering the last 24 hours, maybe the 7th-time championship wasn't what he had wished for all his life, Lance's smile being the most valuable trophy he has ever had.