Chapter Text
12 shifts ‘till Christmas
“Guys, I’m gonna do it.” Lance declares. “For real this time!”
“Do what?” Allura asks, looking up from the same page of her textbook that she opened to forty minutes ago with bleary eyes.
“Hey, that’s awesome, man!” Hunk punches him lightly in the arm.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Pidge grumbles without tearing drying eyes from her computer screen.
“Come on, Pidge,” Hunk chastises them. “Have some confidence in him.”
“Yeah, Pidge!” Lance agrees. “Have some confidence in me!”
“Confidence to do what?” Allura asks again, more alert and focused now than she has all evening.
“I’m gonna ask Keith for his number!” he says with far more bravado than he feels.
“Keith who?”
Pidge starts to answer, “The guy Lance has been crushing on since—” Lance’s pencil flips through the air and bounces off their head, effectively interrupting them. “Hey!”
“Allura doesn’t need to know that part!” he hisses.
“Whatever,” Pidge grumbles. “I’m keeping the pencil.”
“Well, I’m excited for you,” Hunk says.
“I mean,” Lance backpedals, suddenly anxious, “don’t get excited yet — I don’t even know if he’ll say yes! What if he says no? What if he laughs at me, oh man, what if—”
“Hey!” Hunk interrupts him, grabbing his shoulders and giving him one firm shake. “Don’t psych yourself out, you gotta try and psych yourself in.”
“What does that even mean?” Lance laments, slumping dramatically into Hunk’s grip.
“It means, what if he says yes? What if he laughs because he’s excited? What if it goes well!”
“He barely even knows who I am!”
“Only because you keep chickening out of talking to him!” Pidge reminds him. Turning to Allura, they explain, “Lance and Keith were in the same dorm freshman year and have had a few huge gen-ed lecture classes together over the years and Lance kept crushing on him from afar like a weirdo.”
“I see,” Allura laughs. “This is surprising, Lance. Usually you’re so confident when you’re getting to know new people. I would have thought asking someone for their phone number would be a breeze, for you.”
“There was an, uh, incident in their second class together,” Hunk says delicately.
“I sat next to him, and he said ‘do I know you?’ like a jerk!” Lance pouts.
Allura hisses sympathetically. “I remember that story now, you’ve mentioned it once or twice.”
Lance knows she’s being generous — he’s sure he’s told her at least ten times over the year or so that they’ve been friends.
“Yeah,” Lance deflates. “I dunno, maybe I shouldn’t ask him. He’s Keith Kogane, and I’m just Lance.”
“Keith Kogane?” Allura asks in the same moment Hunk and Pidge both cry “No!” in protest.
“I can’t listen to another semester of this,” Pidge groans.
“It’s the perfect time to ask him,” Hunk adds, far more encouraging. “You’ve had that seminar class together all semester!”
“Yeah, the one he bolts from the second class ends,” Lance reminds him. “I haven’t had any luck talking to him before or after class. It’s like he’s trying to avoid me!”
“Does that class happen to be at 12pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays?” Allura asks.
“How on earth did you know that?” Lance gapes.
“Because Keith Kogane works at my uncle’s cafe off campus,” she says, “and he’s always a few minutes late for our afternoon shift together on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
Silence falls over their small group as the three friends gape at Allura in various states of disbelief (Hunk), glee (Pidge), and terror (Lance), each of them taking several seconds to process the information.
“Well, that’s one mystery solved,” Pidge remarks eventually.
“Lance, this is perfect!” Hunk declares.
“Perfect how?”
“Now you know where to find him to ask!”
“That doesn’t help me much now,” Lance complains, aware that he’s being unnecessarily difficult but unable to stop himself. It’s amazing Hunk and Pidge have put up with this for as long as they have, truly. “The last class of the semester was yesterday!”
“Lucky for you,” Allura smirks, unlocking her phone and tapping decisively for a few seconds before presenting her phone triumphantly. At a quick glance, all Lance can register on the screen is a colorful calendar starting with tomorrow’s date. “I have his work schedule.”
“Allura, no!” Lance protests, trying to shove her phone aside. “That’s creepy, I’m not gonna stalk him!”
“Oh, right,” Pidge rolls her eyes, “you’ll just continue fantasizing and watching him from afar without ever saying anything to him directly, Which is like, totally different. That wouldn’t be considered stalking at all.”
Lance contemplates this for a moment.
“Give me the phone.”
Allura’s gleeful laugh seems a bit unearned for someone who only learned about Lance’s pathetic crush a few minutes ago, but Hunk’s victory whoop feels well-deserved.
All of them crowd around the cellphone, their studying materials entirely forgotten, and scroll through Allura’s work schedule for the next two weeks.
“Looks like he has 12 shifts left until Christmas break,” Pidge notes. “That’s 12 chances to get his number before your final semester.”
“Piece of cake!” Hunk waves a hand in the air. “Right, Lance?”
“Yeah,” he says, taking a steadying breath to try and quiet the sudden anxiety in his stomach. “Yeah, I can do that. Piece of cake.” but the words lack his usual confidence, and it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than any of them.
“Excellent!” Allura clasps her hands together. “I should actually start making my way over there for my shift this evening. Lance, would you mind walking me there?”
He’s only a little embarrassed to admit how stricken he sounds when he asks, “Why?”
“Because it’s unchivalrous to let a woman walk alone in the dark, isn’t it?”
“You’re a full head taller than me!” Lance protests.
“Not to mention, way stronger.” Pidge adds helpfully.
“Yeah!” he agrees shamelessly. “And what about Hunk?”
“Don’t drag me into this,” Hunk holds up both hands in surrender. “I’m still actually trying to study.”
“Lance, just walk me to the cafe,” she sighs, pouting. “Please?”
He has no clue what the hell she’s playing at, but pouting looks so bizarre on her usually-confident features that he caves within seconds.
“Fine.” he grumbles, standing to shove his study materials into his backpack. “I needed a break from studying, anyway.”
“Perfect!” Allura beams. “I knew I could count on you!”
Lance learns exactly what Allura is playing at the second they enter the cafe.
It’s rustic and cozy with dark wood and iron furniture, decorated with surprisingly tasteful orange accents and an entire wall of plants that seems terribly impractical. Lest he forget what month it is, the tables are peppered with small pine tree decorations and Christmas music hums at a pleasant volume throughout the room. In one corner, a larger pine tree stands decorated with strings of lights and a handful of gift wrapped presents underneath the lowest boughs.
But Lance knows instantly that Allura didn’t bring him here to admire their holiday decor — behind the counter, his dark hair pulled back into a half-up, lazy bun that should not be working nearly as well as it does, stands Keith Kogane, eyeing Lance with all the welcoming warmth of a snow storm.
He’s more dressed down than usual, which Lance’s brain takes stock of embarrassingly quickly. His work apron covers most of the design on a simple black graphic tee and there’s a noticeable absence of the usual silver rings on his fingers, and while most of his ear piercings are the same silver rods and studs Lance is used to, he’s only wearing small black studs in his lobe piercings where he often trades them out for different dangling charms or hoops.
Playing at obliviousness impressively (alarmingly) well, Allura guides Lance up to the counter, chatting amicably as if they were mid-conversation when they entered the shop.
“I know, the library cafe gets so crowded the two weeks of finals,” Allura laments, sounding even to Lance as if she is responding to something he might have said just outside the door. “You should come study here! It’s much more quiet, and our seasonal drinks are to die for. Keith and I came up with the flavors ourself this year.” she’s saying as they arrive at the counter. That smooth son of a bitch — Lance should be taking notes. Leaning comfortably onto the counter, she gestures casually at Keith as she mentions his name and he thankfully turns his ice-dagger stare on her. She continues. “Keith, this is my dear friend Lance, have I ever introduced you?”
Lance bites back a groan. He should have known better than to involve Allura — she’s a notorious pot stirrer. What was he thinking?
“No, but we’ve met,” Keith deadpans.
“We’ve met?” Lance parrots. “We have a class together!”
“Oh really?” Allura gasps, looking pointedly at Keith. “I had no idea! Which class is it?”
Allura’s leading questions and pointed looks being directed at Keith rather than him is throwing Lance for a bit of a loop, if he’s being honest. Lance thought she would be needling him like this; why on earth would she be needling Keith? Lance would doubt that he’s reading their interaction correctly if it weren’t for the way Keith is glaring at Allura like he’s seconds away from strangling her.
…is he that upset about seeing Lance here?
“It’s my sci-fi literature seminar,” he grumbles.
“Oh!” Allura feigns surprise, looking between Keith and Lance as if connecting dots for the first time. “Is this the class you’ve—”
“Yes, it’s the class I’ve told you about.” Keith says through his teeth. He’s practically steaming when he turns to Lance; he can’t help but flinch as the weight of Keith’s anger lands on him. “Can I get you anything? Allura was saying something about the, uh, seasonal drinks?”
“Oh,” Lance blinks. “Um, yeah. Could I get a medium iced gingerbread latte please?”
Keith’s lips press into a thin line in an unreadable gesture as he grabs one of the clear coffee cups and writes Lance’s order in black sharpie.
“Oh! Wait, can I get oat milk in that?”
Keith raises one eyebrow, adds an O to the cup without looking at it and passes the cup directly to Allura over the counter.
“This one’s on you, I’m taking my fifteen.”
Behind the counter, the door to the staff room is already swinging back and forth on its hinges, Keith having vanished behind it.
“Allura,” Lance hisses through his teeth. “What was that?”
“Just getting the ball rolling,” she shrugs. Then, louder, she adds, “So, see you here tomorrow for another study session?”
Lance sighs. “Do I have a choice?”
“Nope!” she chirps. “See you tomorrow!”