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The Garrison's New Year's Eve party was in full swing by the time Keith arrived, fashionably late as always. He'd debated not coming at all—parties weren't really his thing—but Shiro had given him that look. The one that said you need to spend time with people who aren't your motorcycle.
Keith scanned the crowded rec room, decorated with silver and gold streamers that caught the light from a slowly rotating disco ball someone had dug out of storage. Groups of cadets and officers clustered around tables laden with snacks, their laughter mixing with the bass-heavy music pulsing through the speakers.
He spotted his friends immediately. Pidge was engaged in what looked like a heated debate with Matt about something technical, their hands gesturing wildly. Hunk stood near the food table—naturally—explaining something to Shay with his characteristic enthusiasm. And there, leaning against the far wall with a cup in his hand and that insufferable smirk on his face, was Lance.
Their eyes met across the room.
Lance's smirk widened into a full grin, and he raised his cup in mock salute. Keith felt something twist in his chest—the same feeling he'd been trying to ignore for months now. Maybe longer. He looked away first, pretending to be interested in the nearest decorative banner.
"Keith! You made it!" Hunk's voice boomed as he approached, pulling Keith into a one-armed hug that nearly lifted him off his feet. "I was starting to think you'd bailed."
"Shiro wouldn't let me," Keith admitted, accepting the cup of punch Hunk thrust into his hands. He took a sip and immediately regretted it. "Is this... alcoholic?"
"Only slightly." Hunk winked. "Garrison-approved levels of fun."
"That's an oxymoron."
"You're an oxymoron."
Keith snorted into his cup, and when he looked up again, Lance had materialized beside them like he'd teleported. Or more likely, he'd been heading toward them the entire time Keith had been distracted.
"Mullet! Didn't think you'd show." Lance's voice carried that teasing lilt that used to annoy Keith. Used to. Now it just made his stomach do weird things. "Did Shiro literally drag you here?"
"I came voluntarily," Keith said, defensive.
"Sure you did." Lance's eyes sparkled with mischief. He'd done something different with his hair—styled it up a bit more than usual—and he was wearing a blue button-down that brought out his eyes. Not that Keith was noticing. "Bet you've got your bike keys in your pocket right now, planning your escape."
Keith's hand instinctively moved toward his pocket before he caught himself. Lance's grin went supernova.
"Called it!"
"I hate you," Keith muttered, but there was no heat in it. There never was anymore, not really. Not since the war had ended and they'd all come home and Keith had realized that the feeling in his chest when Lance smiled wasn't irritation at all.
"No you don't," Lance said confidently, and the worst part was that he was right.
The evening progressed in a blur of music, laughter, and increasingly ridiculous party games that Pidge had somehow talked everyone into playing. Keith found himself relaxing despite his best efforts, drawn into the warmth of his friends' company. And if he was hyperaware of every time Lance laughed, every time their shoulders brushed as they sat together on the overcrowded couch, every time those blue eyes found his across the room—well, that was nobody's business but his own.
By eleven o'clock, Keith needed air.
He slipped out onto the balcony, grateful for the bite of cold December wind against his flushed cheeks. The Garrison's desert location meant clear skies, and above him, stars scattered across the darkness like spilled diamonds. He could still hear the party behind him, muffled through the glass doors, but out here it was quiet enough to think.
Quiet enough to panic.
Because the truth was, Keith had been feeling this way about Lance for a while now. Long enough that he couldn't dismiss it as a phase or confusion or some weird post-war adrenaline crash. Long enough that it had become the first thing he thought about in the morning and the last thing keeping him awake at night.
He liked Lance. Maybe more than liked. And he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
The balcony door slid open behind him.
"Knew I'd find you out here."
Of course it was Lance. Keith didn't turn around, just gripped the railing a little tighter. "I'm fine. Just needed a minute."
"From the party or from me?" Lance's voice was closer now, and then he was there beside Keith, leaning on the railing with his shoulder almost touching Keith's. Almost.
"The party," Keith said automatically.
"Liar."
Keith's head snapped toward him. Lance was looking at the stars, his profile outlined in silver from the light spilling through the doors behind them. He looked thoughtful. Nervous, maybe, which was unusual for Lance.
"I'm not—"
"Keith." Lance finally looked at him, and there was something in his expression that made Keith's words die in his throat. "We've been dancing around this for months. Maybe longer. And I'm tired of pretending I don't notice."
Keith's heart hammered against his ribs. "Notice what?"
"The way you look at me." Lance's voice had gone soft, almost vulnerable. "The way I can't stop looking at you. The way we both keep finding excuses to be near each other and then acting like it's coincidence."
"Lance—"
"I like you, Keith." The words tumbled out in a rush, like Lance had been holding them back for so long they'd built up pressure. "I've liked you for a really long time, and I know we started off rocky, and I know I used to drive you crazy, but somewhere along the way that changed and I—" He took a breath. "I needed to tell you. Especially tonight. New year, new chances, all that cliché stuff."
Keith stared at him, his mind reeling. Lance liked him. Lance had just said, out loud, that he liked him. All those months of Keith thinking he was alone in this, that these feelings were one-sided and hopeless and—
"Say something," Lance pleaded, and Keith realized he'd been silent for too long. "Even if it's to let me down easy, just—say something."
"You're an idiot," Keith said, and Lance's face fell. Keith grabbed his hand before he could pull away. "You're an idiot because I've been losing my mind trying to figure out how to tell you the exact same thing."
Lance blinked. "Wait, what?"
"I like you too," Keith said, and saying it out loud felt like jumping off a cliff and discovering he could fly. "I have for—I don't even know how long. Months, definitely. Maybe since we were in space, or before that, or—the timeline doesn't matter. I like you, Lance. A lot. Maybe too much."
"There's no such thing as too much," Lance breathed, and his smile was radiant, brighter than any star. His hand tightened around Keith's. "So we're really doing this? We're—this is happening?"
"I guess it is."
From inside, someone started counting down. "SIXTY! FIFTY-NINE! FIFTY-EIGHT!"
Lance glanced toward the doors, then back at Keith. "We should probably go inside for midnight."
"Probably," Keith agreed, but neither of them moved.
"Or," Lance said, stepping closer, "we could stay out here. Just the two of us."
Keith's breath caught as Lance raised his free hand to Keith's face, fingers gentle against his cheek. This close, he could count the faint freckles across Lance's nose, could see the uncertainty and hope warring in his eyes.
"THIRTY! TWENTY-NINE! TWENTY-EIGHT!"
"Is this okay?" Lance whispered.
Keith's heart was racing. "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay."
"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"
Lance's eyes were so blue, reflecting the light from inside, full of hope and nervousness and something that made Keith's breath catch.
"FIVE! FOUR! THREE!"
Keith's hand came up to cup Lance's cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.
"TWO!"
Their faces were inches apart now, both of them trembling slightly—from the cold or anticipation, Keith couldn't tell.
"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Keith closed the distance between them.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like they were both afraid of breaking something precious. Lance's lips were warm despite the cold air, and he tasted like the overly sweet punch and something uniquely him. Keith's free hand found Lance's waist, pulling him closer, and Lance made a small sound of surprise that quickly melted into contentment.
Cheers erupted from inside as midnight struck, the celebration exploding around them. Fireworks began shooting into the sky, painting it in bursts of color. But Keith barely noticed, too focused on the way Lance was kissing him back, on the feeling of finally, finally doing what he'd wanted to do for months.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, foreheads resting together, Lance was grinning—of course he was—and Keith felt an answering smile tugging at his own lips.
Cheers erupted from inside as midnight struck, the celebration exploding around them. Fireworks began shooting into the sky, painting it in bursts of color. But Keith barely noticed, too focused on the way Lance was kissing him back, on the feeling of finally, finally doing what he'd wanted to do for months.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, foreheads resting together, Lance was grinning—of course he was—and Keith felt an answering smile tugging at his own lips.
"Happy New Year, Keith," Lance murmured.
"Happy New Year," Keith replied, and kissed him again.
This kiss was different—deeper, more confident, full of all the promise of fresh starts and new beginnings. When they finally pulled apart for the second time, both smiling like idiots, the fireworks were still going, and Keith thought maybe they were a decent metaphor for what he was feeling.
"So," Lance said, threading their fingers together, "what's your New Year's resolution?"
Keith pretended to think about it. "Probably to spend more time with this annoying guy I know. Blue eyes, terrible pickup lines, thinks he's funnier than he actually is."
"Hey!" Lance protested, but he was laughing. "My pickup lines are amazing."
"You've never used one on me."
"That's because I was saving them." Lance's expression turned playful, mischievous. "Are you a star? Because you're out of this world."
Keith groaned. "That's terrible."
"Are you the Red Lion? Because my heart is roaring for you."
"Please stop."
"Do you have a map? Because I just got lost in your eyes."
"I'm going back inside," Keith threatened, but he was smiling, and Lance knew it.
"Wait, wait, I've got one more." Lance pulled him back, wrapping his arms around Keith's waist. His voice dropped, sincere now. "Are you New Year's Eve? Because I want to spend every moment counting down to you."
Keith felt his cheeks heat. "That was... actually kind of smooth."
"I know." Lance looked insufferably pleased with himself. "So, boyfriend, what do you say we head back inside before everyone comes looking for us?"
"Boyfriend," Keith repeated, testing the word. It felt right. Perfect, even. "Yeah. Let's go back in. But Lance?"
"Yeah?"
"If you tell everyone what happened out here before I'm ready—"
"Your secret's safe with me," Lance promised, pressing a quick kiss to Keith's cheek. "We'll tell them when you're ready. Even though Pidge is definitely going to figure it out within five minutes of seeing us together."
He was probably right. Pidge was terrifyingly perceptive. But as they headed back inside, hands still linked, Keith found he didn't care as much as he thought he would. His friends would be happy for them. Shiro would probably say something embarrassing about how he "knew all along." Hunk would cry. Pidge would demand to know why it took them so long.
And Keith would endure all of it, because Lance's hand was warm in his, and when they stepped back into the party, Lance's smile was blinding, and this—this new beginning, this leap into something terrifying and wonderful—was the best New Year's gift Keith could have asked for.
"There you are!" Pidge appeared in front of them immediately, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Where did you two disappear to?"
Keith and Lance exchanged a glance.
"Just getting some air," Lance said innocently.
"Uh huh." Pidge's gaze dropped to their still-joined hands. Her eyes widened. "FINALLY!"
And just like that, the secret was out.
But as their friends swarmed them with questions and congratulations and Hunk actually did start crying ("I'm just so happy for you guys!"), Keith couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not when Lance was laughing beside him, squeezing his hand like an anchor, looking at Keith like he was the only person in the room.
"Happy New Year, Keith," Lance said again, softer this time, just for him.
Keith squeezed back. "Happy New Year, Lance."
It was going to be a good year. Keith could feel it.
The best one yet.