Shut Up And Dance With Me//Klance//Complete

Geronimo

"Lance—"

"Shhhh!"

"—What are you doing?"

"Shhhh!" He glares at him, squinted eyes, pout, and everything. Keith just stares back, face blank and unamused.

When it's clear he isn't going to say anything, Keith raises one pointed eyebrow.

Lance sighs, rolling his eyes before once more lying flat on the dance room floor, ear pressed to the polish hard wood. "I'm trying to listen, if you would just be quiet."

Keith's eyes narrowed. "Listen to what?"

"Listen to music! We're in a dance studio, Keith. Keep up."

He doesn't look impressed. "Why are you trying to listen to music through the floor?"

Lance sighs, giving up for the moment as he props himself up on his elbows. "Because, Keith," He says, calmly and rationally, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Because it is. Why else would he have his ear pressed to the floor of room 4D unless Pidge and Hunk were in room 3D?
"I'm trying to figure out what song Pidge and Hunk are practicing to."

Keith, however, looks more confused than ever. He's sitting close by, the two of them pretty dead center on the floor. Keith has his feet stretched out, leaning back on his hands. Lance actively ignores his stupid fucking ponytail and the way it exposes the long curves of his neck. He's reallystarting to hate that thing. He's said it before, and he'll say it again: Keith's hair is stupid.

Keith's brows pinch just a little, his lips puckering in that way that's so adorably confused and yet infinitely endearing. Lance wants to hate that, too, but that one's a little harder to hate. "Why are you trying to do that?"

Lance sighs, loudly and rolls his eyes, letting the imaginary momentum of it roll him over onto his back. He sprawls out, eyes fixed on the ceiling and the familiar tiles. And it's only partially so he doesn't have to stare at Keith. Staring at Keith has proved to be a dangerous activity lately. If his mind wanders while he's doing it, his thoughts can get into some dangerous territory. Territory that tends to make his insides squirm. Which is notokay when he's in the middle of one of Shiro and Allura's lessons and Keith is like... two fucking inches from his face.

He's had more heart attacks in the past two weeks than he cares to admit. One of these days his heart is just gonna skip a beat and straight up stop. Rest in pieces, Lance McClain. Here he lies and here he died, killed by Keith's stupid mullet and those stupidly beautiful eyes that seem to change colors like a shifting storm.

Man, fuck Keith.

But not like... not like fuck Keith. That's a whole different can of worms that he really doesn't want to open up right—

"—ance."

"What?" He says a little too quickly, head rolling over to stare wide eyed at Keith, like he can somehow manage to read his thoughts.

But Keith is just staring at him, one eyebrow raised. "I asked why you're trying to hear their music through the floor."

"Oh, that." He laughs a little, a nervous sort of chuckle that he internally winces at. "I'm trying to figure out what they're dancing to for regionals."

"Why don't you just... ask... them?" He asks slowly.

Lance scoffs, rolling his head back to look at the ceiling to avoid looking at him. There's a water stain in the corner of that one tile. Fascinating. "Because they won't tell me."