Chapter Text
If Lance had to list the 10 worst situations a human could get themselves into, #1 would be being lost in space and #2 would be being rudely interrupted during self-care time. Lance was lucky enough to never have gotten lost in space, and he thought he was lucky enough to strategically avoid scenario #2 for the rest of his life… and then in walked Keith Kogane–literally–and left Lance clutching his blue bathrobe around himself and screaming like a little boy.
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For Keith, today was a hell that started with a missed alarm and ended with him flacepanting into a lumpy pillow. Somewhere mixed in there was also his new roommate, Lance. He was the star of the (shit)show, and the thought pissed Keith off even more because he could just hear Lance gloating about being called a star. Like magnets, opposites did not attract, they repelled, and Keith was starting to regret letting Shiro fill out his dorm preferences.
Five weeks ago, when Keith finally read his email close enough and saw the written confirmation of a double room, Keith’s older brother and said brother’s fiancé learned–not for the first or last time–how much wrath could be crammed inside the body of a 19-year-old boy.
The top bunk was a little too hot, and the light penetrating the fragile curtains made Keith wish he could steal Lance’s luxury eye mask for himself. But sleep came easily enough, thanks to of a long day of driving, hauling, and complaining.
Keith was woken up by Lance belting Mariah Carey and what could only be described at shimmying around the dorm room, shirtless. He groaned and shut his eyes tightly, counting to 10. Satisfied with the level of calm that got him, Keith sat up on the mattress and opened his mouth.
“Shut the fuck up!”
Lance screeched and whirled around, eyes wide.
“What the hell! Shit, Kogane! I forgot you were there,” he gasped. Keith stared at him from his perch, one eye twitching with the effort of holding back a scoff.
“How the hell do you forget a whole person is living with you?”
Lance crossed his arms and huffed, “My mind probably blocked out the trauma of being so rudely interrupted during my skincare time and forgot you even existed.”
Keith was almost incredulous, and he couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice when he said, “How was I supposed to know you were…” He searched for the verb, “pasting your face?” There was a brief silence and then Lance laughed. It was a strange sound, a giggle with a certain hum around the edges that made it seem special.
“Pasting,” Lance mused. “Pasting my face.”
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Lance felt previously unprecedented levels of glee as the marker in his hand squeaked against the whiteboard, adding another tally to his own column.
“Aaaand… another win from yours truly!” He gloated, stepping back to admire the board. Keith’s stony, scowly face let out a huff.
“You’re only one point ahead.”
Lance tutted, wagging the marker. “Just one point can assure victory. Someone sounds like a sore loser.”
Keith threw his hands up. “There’s still two more games!”
True, but Lance wasn’t worried. He was, after all, the reigning McClain household champion of UNO, and no way was he letting Keith KoLAME take that hard-earned title from him. As it was, this competition had high stakes, and Lance didn’t have the best reputation for keeping calm under pressure. He would bet money that hot-headed Keith didn’t either, but that didn’t do much for Lance in the ways of ensuring his victory, and subsequent chores-free month. The only downside of having one of the highly coveted in-dorm kitchen and bathroom units? Having to clean said kitchen and bathroom. Luckily, Lance knew a little friendly, life-on-the-line competition was the perfect solution for deciding who would be sacrificed to the toilet bowl. And after having made Keith sign a 3-page I will not try to cheat, I will not complain about the punishment document, Lance could see no downsides.
Meanwhile, Keith was seriously fucking stressed right now. New college, new classes, new terminology. It was pretty obvious that, of course, going from a full-time doodler to a full-time art student was gonna be something to get used to, but what annoyed Keith was the lack of flexibility.
[Due October 16th @ midnight: 8x10 minimum canvas Chiaroscuro work featuring at least one human subject. Include any and all reference materials in your submission.]
Keith wanted to gnaw off his dominant hand for an excuse not to paint that.
“Look, the point of this is to broaden your horizons of capability and practice things you wouldn’t normally do. Find fun in the challenge!” Keith crossed his arms and glowered at his older brother.
“Shiro, I am this close to faking my own death and dropping out,” Keith said grumpily. Shiro sighed. An amused voice came from across the room, Shiro’s fiancé adding to the conversation.
“Ooh, faking your death. That’s a new one, buddy. What happened to the old reliable ‘I’m gonna kill myself’?” Adam quipped and then weathered not only one, but two dark-eyed glares. Adam just shrugged, taking a sip of his tea.
“Keith, I know you’re smart enough to see the purpose in annoying assignments,” Shiro said evenly. Goddamnit, Shiro was sneaking in a little compliment for Keith so any pushback would mean denying the compliment. An impenetrable (and overused) defense that meant Keith could only show his disagreement physically, and he didn’t hold back, sinking deeper into the couch with a huff. Shiro was kind of right, though Keith would only admit it in his head—and begrudgingly still. But there was still another issue…
“Who are you gonna use as the human subject?”