Chapter Text
Keith lives in a haunted house.
Not the "ha-ha toy skeletons drop from the ceiling" kind of haunted house, it’s the "weird sounds in the attic and things moving on their own" kind of haunted.
At first, Keith tried to play off the weird noises with excuses of rusty pipes and just misplacing his things; but once he saw his keys thrown across the room from their spot by the front door to behind the living room couch, he was convinced the place was haunted.
He tried to bring up the topic of ghosts to his landlord casually, just to gauge his reaction. His landlord started to visibly sweat, laughed, then quickly changed the subject. Well, no wonder rent was two hundred less than anywhere else in the neighborhood.
It left Keith with two options: move, or stay and deal with it.
After a few weeks of living in the house of horrors, Keith realized that it wasn’t so much 'horrors' as it was 'mildly annoying inconveniences'. There were noises in the attic at night; loud bangs that would wake him up, and that got worse if it was hot outside. The downstairs bathroom would occasionally flood; Keith hadn't figured out the trigger for that one yet. Any personal items he left on the table by the door would get thrown across the room, but decorations were fine. There was definitely something in the basement, but whatever it was just liked to go through Keith's unpacked boxes. One spirit liked to make the classic 'rattling chains' noise in the dining room. All of the entities left his bedroom alone, which Keith appreciated.
So Keith learned to deal with sharing his space. He no longer leaves his wallet or keys by the front door, he got a white noise machine to block out the wails and rattling at night, and he leaves the board games he isn't using in the basement, along with a note telling whatever is down there to repack what it goes through. The person who lived there before him had the flooding bathroom floor sealed with a small drain in the corner for easy clean up; Keith will be eternally grateful that problem was solved for him.
All in all, it isn't so bad. Keith works, goes to school, and doesn't have anyone over to his house.
It works.
Until it doesn't.
"Alright guys, I'm going to school, don't break anything while I'm gone." Keith calls out to his empty home. He pats his pockets to check for his keys and wallet; no keys. He could have sworn he left them on the front table last... oh.
Keith walks over to the couch and fishes into the cushions until he feels the cool metal of his keys. Sighing, he glares in the general direction of the hall table, "Do you think I could leave one thing on that table without it ending up in the couch?" Shaking his head knowing he won't get an answer, Keith leaves for school.
Walking into his English class, Keith sees that his desk partner Pidge is already at their table near the back of the room. They wave at him, then turn back to the conversation they were having with the table partners that sit behind them. One of the boys glances up and locks eyes with Keith, a flirty smile lighting up his face.
"Hey Mullet! Ready to get your ass kicked at literature for the third day in a row?"
"Hey Lance, ready to figure out that class isn't a competition?" Keith snarks back, holding his dead pan stare.
Lance doesn't let that phase him, "We'll see. I think we're getting last week's test back today, so we can compare scores; definitively proving that I'm the best at iambic pentameter." He smirks, arching an eyebrow trying to bait Keith.
"What if I don't show you my score?" Keith retaliates.
"What if you two stopped flirting for two seconds and started paying attention?" Pidge mutters under their breath, earning a snicker from Lance's partner and best friend Hunk. Class had started while the two boys were talking.
Professor Coran did end up handing back their tests. Keith quickly flips his over after glancing at the perfect score marked at the top in green ink.
Something (Lance) pokes him in the back, "Keith, what'd you get?" Lance whispers.
Keith just shrugs, keeping his attention on Coran who is starting to tell the class about their next project.
The exuberant mustached man claps his hands together and addresses the class, "Alright! For the next assignment I want to mix it up. You lot are going to pair up, but not with your table partners; no! You're going to be working with the person sitting behind you on a take home project, the details of which are on the handout being passed around now." The red haired man seems overly cheerful about his newest plan as he continues, "You have six weeks to put together a presentation on your choice of one the topics listed at the top of the sheet in relation to one of Shakespeare's works. That gives you time to read the play, collaborate on ideas, and put together a truly stunning presentation."
Keith freezes, his mind stalling on the idea of having to work with Lance for six weeks. Part, if not most, of that time outside of class. Possibly at his house. No. Library. Lance can't come over to his house; no one can. Not to mention they are always bickering and rarely get along long enough to have a normal conversation.
Coran keeps talking, bouncing around the room and telling them about the time they have to work in class and what else they will be working on besides the project. Because one assignment at a time just isn't enough apparently.
Then Coran gives them the okay to start talking to their new partners and Keith feels another jab at his back.
Sighing he turns around.
"So partner, looks like it's just us for the next six weeks," Lance's expectant grin is all the forewarning Keith needs to know that nothing good is going to come of this.