#rivals to flirting

[writercole]

Manspreading

Summary: Public transportation comes with many potential hazards, including sharing a seat with someone you don't like.

Squares: Sat in their lap - spnfluff // Neighbors - Resa's 3k

Words: 2371

Warnings: Innuendo, Jake's cocky ass.

Credits: @ryebecca for the idea. @princessmisery666 for the beta and the squeal.

A/N: This was borne out of Bees complaining about riding with men on the subway. It didn't take long to figure out that it was a rivals to lovers. Gotta listen to the characters. It's their story after all.

It had been the longest day of my life. Traipsing up and down floors in LouBoutain pumps killed me, I hadn’t slept the night before, and lunch was a snickers bar. So when I walked onto my train and found that there were two empty seats beneath some jackass’s manspread legs, I snapped. 

I walked right over and sat on his lap. How I didn’t chicken out halfway there confounded me.

“Excuse me, this seat is taken,” his voice rumbled in my ear. I froze immediately. I knew that voice.

“Well, Jacob, if you weren’t manspreading across three seats, I wouldn’t have to be sitting here,” I spat, not turning to meet his eyes. 

“Come on, darlin, you knew you were just looking for an excuse to ride my thigh,” he drawled. I knew I’d see a cocky smirk on his face and refused to look at him.

Instead I shut my eyes and growled, regretting several decisions that led me here.

“Oh, that was sexy. Do it again.”

My eyes snapped open and I finally met his gaze, finding exactly the expression I expected, the one he used on female clients to get them to swoon and give him anything he wanted, a smug charm that made my stomach flip. “If you’d just move your leg, I’d be out of your hair.”

I wasn’t prepared for him to bounce his leg like  I wasn’t sitting on it , like I weighed nothing. God I hate this man. 

“I am not in the mood to play games with you, Seresin,” I grumbled. “I have had a long ass day, these heels are killing me, and I haven’t had anything but a Snickers bar and a protein shake all day.”

“Then I guess you have to let me buy you dinner.” The way he winked at me made my panties dampen and skin burn. I refused to let him know that, though.

“I’ve had enough of your insufferable face at work today, thanks.”

“Insufferable, huh? I bet I could change your mind in one night.” 

I looked him up and down and leaned in close, watching the amusement and victory in his eyes as our noses brushed. “In your dreams, asshole,” I whispered, pulling back with a satisfactory smirk at his bewildered stare.

Unfortunately for me, he recovered quickly.

“You’re in my dreams often enough, sweetheart. And believe me, I have no problem changing your mind there.” 

“Does that line actually work?” My patience was wearing very thin.

“I’ll tell you,” he promised,” Over dinner.”  

“I’m not hungry,” I shrugged. Of course at that moment my stomach decided to growl and betray me.

“You have had a protein shake and a snickers bar today,” repeated Jake, “let me buy you dinner. You can even continue to throw shade at me if you want.”

“Look, Jake,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, “I really just want to go home, order a large pizza and curl up in my armchair with my favorite blanket and a good book.”

“Tomorrow, then,” he suggested, his tone persistent but with a hint of what sounded like hope. The train started to slow, preparing to stop at the next station. “This is my stop, darlin. Unfortunately, I’m going to need you to get your pretty face up.”

Maybe I was more lethargic than I thought because that trace of genuine hope had me a little dazed. So much so, I almost didn’t realize this was my stop too. How had I never seen him on the train before?  

“Dinner, tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder as he joined the crowd of people gathering at the doors. 

I shuffled along behind them, running through everything that had transpired since I’d boarded the train. Somehow, my main competition at work took the same train and got off at the same stop and had an answer for everything I said. 

I was lost in my thoughts when a shove came from behind me and I was pushed into the solid mass of the person in front of me. He whipped around and I was prepared to utter a stream of apologies until…

“You could have just said something, darlin, you didn’t have to run into me.” I just wanted to slap that grin off of his face.

“I was shoved.”

“That’s one way to get my attention, though.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You’re doing enough of that for me.”

“I didn’t realize you were into degradation, Seresin,” I snorted as I made my way towards the stairs.

“I could be into a lot of things for you.”

“You have the opposite effect on me. You could drive me out of things I was into,” I chirped as I tried to get away from him.

“Oh really? And what would those things be?” It was infuriating how easily he was keeping up with me.

“Haven’t thought about it.”

“Fine, but I bet you’ve thought about me naked,” he called.

“Oh no, am I really that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby,” I sassed with a roll of my eyes, something that I’d been doing quite a lot today, and sped up through a gap, leaving him behind me.

I finally reached the top of the staircase, ready to duck into the nearest shop I could find to avoid him further until I caught sight of Conner. My ex was heading my way with his arm around a beautiful, thin, perfectly proportioned blonde. Giggling. 

My eyes widened and I spun around, ready to head back into the subway, but instead found Jake cresting the top of the stairs. I grabbed his hand and pulled him close, silencing any protests when my lips met his. He hummed and his arm slid around my waist to pull me close while his other hand tangled in my hair. His tongue parted my lips expertly and he deepened the kiss, only to be interrupted by Conner calling my name. 

I gave Jake a look that screamed ‘please go with it’ as I wiped my mouth and turned. “Oh, Conner, hi,” I greeted, a little light headed. Perhaps it was the lack of sustenance, but I think it had more to do with the kiss from the man standing beside him, with a smug grin and a hand firmly on the small of my back.

“Uh, hi. You, uh, you look good,” he stuttered. His focus was on Jake by my side instead of me, instead of his date.

I guess I should have been proud. Or maybe offended?

“Who’s this, sweetheart?” Jake asked, tugging me tighter to his side.

“This is my ex-boyfriend, Conner,” I introduced, “Conner, this is Jake, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meetcha, Conner,” Jake said, extending his hand.

Conner just looked at it and then directed his attention to me. “Moving on, huh?”

“Looks like you did the same,” I quipped, turning to the blonde. “And what’s your name?”

“Alyssa,” she squeaked as she tucked herself into Conner.

“Conner, Alyssa, it was nice meeting you both, but we���re late for our reservation,” Jake interrupted. “Come on, sweetheart.”

“Nice to see you, Con,” I shrugged as I let Jake pull me away. We walked a block before I stepped out of his grip. “Thanks for that,” I told him quietly.

“It wasn’t a problem,” dismissed Jake. “But I think you should tell me what that was about over dinner.”

I sighed heavily before responding. “Fine, but I’m buying. It’s the least I can do for assaulting you.”

“That was assaulting me?” he grinned. “Where do I sign up for you to do that again?”

I just rolled my eyes before heading towards my favorite pizza shop. He caught up quickly and we walked in silence, Jake keeping his mouth uncharacteristically shut until after our orders were placed.

“So what’s the story with Conner?” he asked quietly.

“Um, so, we dated for a year,” I started, “maybe a little longer. He kept saying things about how he couldn’t wait to move in together and how excited he was that my lease was going to be up soon and maybe we should just buy a house for when we have kids. I kept thinking I’d find feelings like his one day but it never happened. 

“Then, during the last charity gala, he proposed. Very publicly.” I paused for a drink. Jake was there at the gala. He knew what had happened from there.

“Ah, yeah. I remember that,” he chuckled. “That was you?”

“Mhmm.” 

“That was the talk of the office until…until Jerry flubbed that presentation.”

“Anyway, I threw myself into my work and started pushing hard for that promotion. I couldn’t think of any better way to prove I was fine except succeeding in my career.”

“And you have. So why the panic?” 

“I may or may not have insinuated that I could do better than him,” I admitted, avoiding his gaze. 

I had no idea why I was telling Jake all of this. It’s not like I knew him, it’s not like he cared. But when I looked up, I wasn’t met with derision and mocking, I was met with a softness and understanding. 

“I get it. You wanted to show him up. But why me?”

“I was honestly going to go hide in the crowd. I didn’t plan on kissing you. I didn’t even know I was doing it until you hummed.” Might as well stick with honesty.

“Oh, so it wasn’t because you decided to take me up on my offer to change your mind about me?” he teased, wagging his eyebrows at me across the table.

I laughed and shoved his arm, making him chuckle as well. It surprised me how easily conversation flowed between us. For the longest time, he’d been a bitter rival of mine and now, here he was, almost like we were friends.

This was a different side of the Jake I’d see around the office. He’d ditched his jacket and loosened his tie, even going so far as to roll up his sleeves. He talked about tv shows he watched and criticized my taste in movies with a teasing smile. 

He asked questions about me and my life and friends and for every detail he learned about me, he dished out one about himself. None of it surprised me until he said he’d spent time in the Navy.

“You joined the Navy right out of high school? Why?”

“Family tradition,” he shrugged. 

“So you joined the Navy because your family wanted you to, you’re in the business world because your dad forced you into a business degree. What do you do because you want to?”

“What do you do?”

“Promise not to make a joke?” I asked. I’d never had a good reaction when I revealed my hobbies.

“I will do my absolute best not to make a joke but if you tell me you’re a mime, all bets are off,” he laughed, his hands up in surrender.

“I write.”

“Why would I make a joke about you writing for a hobby?” he questioned.

“Because it’s dumb that I write stories when there are so many that I could just go read,” I explained, using the words that several people had used to devalue my likes and the way I spent my time.

“Who cares if there’s a bunch of stories you can go read? The ones you write are going to be in your own voice and reflect your own experiences,” he countered.

“Well, what do you do?”

“I draw,” he shrugged.

That surprised me. “You draw?”

“Yeah. I started in high school when I needed to escape from the insanity of the perfect world my father wanted. My art teacher said I had a talent but it never felt like something I wanted to do for other people. It was more…”

“Something you wanted to keep for yourself,” I supplied, nodding along with the words.

“Exactly!”

I checked my watch and saw that we had been in the pizza parlor for three hours. “I should probably get home. It’s getting kind of late.”

“Oh damn,” Jake exclaimed when he checked the time. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that, Jake,” I protested, “You were at the office before me this morning. You have to be exhausted.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he rebutted, “but I want to walk you home.”

I paid the bill and we stepped out into the night. The streets were closer to empty than they had been all day and the temperatures had dropped enough that it was almost chilly. A shiver crept up my spine and before I’d finished shivering Jake’s jacket enveloped me. I looked up at him, seeing him in a different light, both literally and figuratively.

“What?” he questioned. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

“You’ve surprised me at every turn tonight,” I admitted with a smile.

He just hummed as we walked along, his hands in his pockets and his jacket wrapped around me. 

“This is me,” I mumbled as I drew to a stop in front of my building.

“Well, at least it’s a short walk home for me,” he quipped. I furrowed my brow and he gestured across the street. “The only dark apartment on the fourth floor.”

I looked up at my building and laughed. “Same.”

Jake joined me, his deep chuckle rumbling through the space between us. “I can’t believe we live across from each other, on the same floor.”

“Seems crazy, right?” 

“Yeah, crazy. Or maybe…” he trailed off.

“Maybe?”

“Walk you to work tomorrow?” he offered.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t take up three seats with your manspreading,” I demanded, a slight smirk creeping onto my face.

“How am I going to get you back in my lap again?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

He nodded, his expression contorting to one of ponderance. When his gaze met mine again, he smiled and stepped closer, his hand cupping my cheek before his lips met mine, softly asking permission for a real kiss. 

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back, melting into his warmth. He smiled softly when he pulled back, caressing my cheek with his thumb.

“I should go,” he whispered.

“Or you could stay.”

“I don’t want to rush into anything. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Progressing from dinner to breakfast seems to be moving pretty quickly buuuuut..I’ll allow it,” I giggled. “Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 271

“Grandmother is visiting,” Damian suddenly said with no warning and with his usual not-quite demanding tone. 

“Who?” Tim wasn’t the only one to startle, seeing as Bruce had practically froze, a downturn to his lips in a silent show of confusion. 

Damian scowled. “Are you deaf Drake? Grandmother is coming to Gotham to, quote, make sure I am being properly cared for.” None of them had known that Ras was with anyone actually. At least Tim was pretty sure that would have been in the files. 

“Oh?” Dick didn’t quite crouch to Damian’s height but it was a near thing. “She-” “He,” Damian corrected, interrupting him. They all exchanged a glance before Dick continued. 

“Is he coming to the Manor or…” 

Damian scoffed again, a tiny bit of a flush against his face. “No, Grandmother will most likely be staying with Akhi-”

Now wait one moment-

“YOU HAVE ANOTHER BROTHER?!” 

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

A procession of confessions.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[sweepingboy]

mu qing, pierced by arrows like a human kebab: bet you're jealous you didn't penetrate me first

feng xin, trying to stop the blood: SHUT UP AND DON'T DIE

[jesterjaxx]

Gah

Aughagh hakc wheeze cough its been 84 years

[seaside-writings]

Prompt #1,291

"Deadly and mouthy, you're just the entire package, huh?

[daftmooncretin]

so i watched the will ferrell nascar movie and now i cant get nascar! dean winchester out of my head (feat disgruntled sports journalist cas who does not want to be here)

[joznii]

morning after (.2 seconds before they wake up all the way and try to kill eachother)

[euko-going-insane]

Send help to Gerhard

[cringefailvox]

okay you guys got me to talk about staticrose enough that i started a sequel to my qpr fic, hope you're proud of yourselves

[jorrated]

umm bingo for knuxouge? curiouse 🤔

[scoop-loop]

I haven’t even watched far enough into s7 to experience mayor scar

[lupizora]

I still can't stop thinking about the M27 teaser trailer. Honestly, when the very first teaser (that had played after the credits of M26) became available online without subs or translation, I thought the new movie might have an amnesia sub-plot. Like something happened that would make Kaito forget everything related to Kaitou KID and Heiji and Conan would have to deal with that along with the rest of the movie's plot. Of course, that idea was shot down from the translation, but I got attached to it for fanfic purposes lol.

So, after seeing the new teaser, that first silly impression is slowly becoming a fully fledged fic (is it HeiKai, HeiShin, HeiKaiShin, idk haven't reached that far yet 😅)

Like yeah, I want the dissonance of KID being aware that Heiji knows Conan is Shinichi, and Heiji not really knowing that Kaito looks like Shinichi (because Kudou never tells him any details that are not important for the task at hand). If anything, Heiji probably heard that's an option from Kazuha because Ran kept complaining to her about all the times KID had disguised as Shinichi before (or given recent manga spoilers, even from Hakuba and his suspicions).

That's why when Heiji unmasks him by cutting through his top hat, KID still slips into his Shinichi disguise (after doing it so many times, I'm convinced he can without a mirror at this point). Not because Heiji will believe it, since Conan is right there, but to buy time.

Heiji, of course, is pissed off about it, and given the whole Kidzuha fiasco, he wants to cut KID in half more than play along.

But KID says that he can't help it if disguising as the people that Heiji loves will keep him safe from his wrath. While Heiji has a crisis over what kind of love does he mean, KID makes his escape (recently stolen sword and all). Heiji throws his sword after KID, like a javelin, and unbeknownst to him, actually hits the handglider. KID drops out of the sky, fate unknown.

Next day, Iori shows up to bring Heiji to Momiji's temporary place (will the plot remain in Hokkaido, dunno) as there is a sensitive matter to discuss. Turns out, they found KID somewhere. While they recognize this person looks like Kudou Shinichi, it's still pretty obvious the clothes he had been wearing was KID's outfit. Heiji manages to convince them to bring Conan along, since the suspicion for KID's real identity will fall on his "cousin" and who's better to dispel these kind of rumors.

What neither of them expects when they are left alone with KID though is that one, he doesn't know who he is; two, he doesn't recognize Conan; but three, he remembers Heiji.

For now, I think the sword has something to do with this temporary amnesia (like holding a part of Kaito's soul or sth) since he feels more like himself whenever he's close to it. I also like actual magic shenanigans in the DetCo universe because it means I can make Akako appear (if the magic is real, she can exist. That's my rule lmao).

But that's pretty much what I have of this idea.

[arcsin27]

“Shadows favorite album is fearless”

[kuzure-collapse]

childhood rivals to lovers prompts

because it took me until high school to realize that the annoying boy i knew in 7th grade might've liked me

—-

being the top of their classes but only having eyes to compete with each other

being nerds and doing homework together after school but only to compare answers and smugly correct each other

X finds out Y's favorite color and starts wearing more of it, Y secretly likes it

having insulting nicknames that only THEY can use on the other

neither of them know how the beef started, could be that X already liked Y and didn't know what to do with feelings + Y being friends with kids that liked to argue with X

they end up hanging together bc of mutual friends and Y ends up enjoying this group more than their old friends

or X is friends with Y's sibling so they end up encountering at Y's house unexpectedly

maybe teachers note the rivalry and seat them together/pair them for projects. the class likes to watch their back-and-forth

"you look dumb with your hair up like that" "fix your chapped lips" "short" "weak" other immature digs at each other

losing contact as they end up at different high schools and eventually go to different colleges, maybe out of town

both were too stubborn to get each other's contacts, or didn't have ways to personally contact each other after middle school

neither said anything at middle school graduation, last they'll ever see each other

maybe one cries, or X randomly hugs Y before running away, maybe a small picture together taken by their parents who don't know about the rivalry

cut to college, they return to their hometown during a school break. maybe the breaks happen to line up

see each other in passing on a crowded bus/train, almost don't recognize each other

"was X this attractive?" sort of thoughts. maybe one notices and the other doesn't, or both make awkward eye contact for a split second before looking away

maybe they end up visiting the old bakery/cafe they always went to as kids and see each other on line, or X is working register as a summer job

brush it off bc maybe they've been thinking about their crush for so long that they're hallucinating the scenarios they made up

do they keep feigning ignorance? at this point, haven't there been too many coincidences?

one decides to take a chance and calls out to the other with the old insulting nickname

it works and they respond in kind with a smile

"It's been almost a decade now"

"you look different"

taking a closer look and seeing how the other has developed. the awkward baggy clothes have been replaced with better fitting stylish clothes.

the baby fat is gone but the smile's undoubtedly the same

noticing the changes they made in appearance and remembering the old insults they threw. maybe one did change their hairstyle and looks way too attractive, maybe one got muscular and is much stronger than the other

even better with height differences, especially if the one who used to be shorter grew way taller

or the shorter one stayed short and the other grew substantially

making snarky but lighthearted remarks mentioning inside "jokes" from the past

"still got chapped lips?" "still looking at my lips?" even better if one knows about the other's crush

one has the courage to ask for the other's contact info, finally arrange something close to a date (they never specify)

reminisce about old times, maybe meet up in the old playground/cafe/bakery near the middle school

realize they get along well as adults, talk about high school and college and where they're going in life

sad if one is going abroad, or if their careers are so separated that they probably won't have time to see each other a lot

maybe they secretly kept mementos of each other. if not that graduation picture, then the mean doodle Y drew in X's notebook, or the post-it X left in the book Y lent them, or the hat that Y never gave back, or the pen that X stole from Y's bag, etc.

"are you with anyone?" "no, you?" "me neither"

"i used to like you when we were kids" "used to? what about now?"

or "what am i supposed to do with an expired crush" to be sassier

meeting again is stirring up old feelings

happy end, they get together and have a strong long distance relationship or smth

sad end, they part ways for the final time

[autisticlancemcclain]

“The point isn’t for you to win, or for me to test you. I just want to see where you guys are at, in terms of hand-to-hand.”

Hunk shifts nervously. Shiro’s making a lot of sense — he can’t help them learn new things if he doesn’t know what they already know.

But still. Just, like, fighting Shiro? Practice or not, it’s scary. Shiro’s a badass dude. Hunk has complete faith in him, obviously, and he knows Shiro wouldn’t hurt them, but still.

“Any volunteers? Not you, Keith. I know where you’re at.”

Keith huffs, rolling his eyes, but doesn’t say much else. There’s a beat of silence, and Shiro looks like he’s about to say more, before Lance raises his hand.

“So we’re just supposed to fight you?”

“Yes, essentially.”

“Until when? Until one of us passes out?”

“I’m not going to knock you out, Lance. Promise.”

“What if I knock you out?”

Shiro laughs — not necessarily mocking, or mean, but Hunk watches as something steely flashes in Lance’s dark eyes as everyone else chuckles.

He hides a smile in his hands.

Hoo, boy. This is gonna be good.

“Sure, Lance,” Shiro says, grinning. “We’ll fight until I pass out. You ready?”

Lance nods and gets to his feet hesitantly.

Well. It looks hesitant. But Hunk has seen Lance pull the same shy bullshit several times over their years of friendship, and recognises the quiet excitement pouring off his friend in waves.

As expected, Shiro and the rest of the team read the excitement as nerves.

Lance leans into that, because he knows exactly how to play this.

“Can you attack first?” Lance asks, after they’re stretched and standing on the mats in the corner. “Um, I know it would make more sense if I attacked first, for, like, assessment purposes and everything, but I’m not really sure how to —”

Shiro smiles softly.

Oh, that poor man. Sometimes Hunk forgets that other people don’t know Lance as well as he does. If he heard Lance being all bashful and nervous, he would assume immediately that Lance is planning something and he is in grave danger. Obviously.

“Sure thing, kiddo. I’ll go first. You ready?”

Lance hums, shifting his balance so he’s on his toes, arms held protectively in front of him.

“This is gonna be fast,” Keith comments.

Hunk looks at him in surprise. Has he picked up on Lance’s con?

“His stance is all wrong,” Keith clarifies.

It takes all of Hunk’s strength — and, admittedly, the excitement he feels at seeing Lance back in the ring — to hold off a bark of laughter.

Lance’s stance is off — yeah, right. If Lance was a conventional fighter, sure. But Lance has never followed to rules of a single goddamn thing in his whole entire life, and brawling is no exception. He’s going to do this his way, and his way is by no means traditionally.

“I’m ready.”

No sooner do the words leave Lance’s mouth that Shiro lunges forward, aiming a heavy punch for Lance’s sternum. It’s probably a feint — he’s not trying to disguise his aim, so he must be expecting Lance to block so he can hit wherever Lance leaves unprotected — but what he doesn’t expect is for Lance to do a full back handspring, nimbly tumbling several feet away from Shiro’s outstretched arm.

Shiro’s face drops in shock, and before he can recover Lance sprints forward. Shiro tenses and holds his hands up to avoid a blow, but Lance slides through his crouched, open legs, somersaulting to his feet faster than Hunk can blink and kicking Shiro hard in the small of his back.

Shocked, Shiro stumbles forward, but he’s starting to drop his previous reservations about Lance — no longer is Lance some scrawny kid who’s never used his fists in his life, but rather someone who’s clearly happy to land a few bruises. He whips around and shoots a well-aimed punch at Lance’s stomach — obviously intending for him to block, now that he knows Lance has some experience.

But Lance doesn’t.

He absorbs the full impact of Shiro’s hit, and crumples to the floor with a pained cry.

Pidge gasps. Keith leans forward, eyes wide.

Hunk barely holds back a giggle.

Shiro shouts in alarm and drops to his knees to make sure Lance is okay, guilt written all over his face, but the second he’s close enough Lance flips himself forward, wrapping his legs around Shiro’s neck until he’s practically sitting on his chest. Before Shiro has a chance to throw him off, Lance vaults himself forward until his palms are flat on the ground, and uses that momentum to flip Shiro over his head, slamming him onto the mats, flat on his back.

Before Shiro can recover — or even breathe, really, the breath knocked right out of him — Lance scrambles to his feet, sprints to the wall, leaps as high as he can go, and then kicks off the wall to flip in the air, landing squarely on Shiro, who had just recovered and was attempting to stand.

Flattened to the floor again, Shiro tries to buck Lance off, but Lance has him pinned, cutting off his airflow.

“‘Till you pass out, right, Shiro?”

Panting just as hard as Lance, Shiro taps three times on Lance’s knee, the only part he can reach.

“Yield,” he chokes out, and Lance lets go immediately, scrambling a safe distance away.

Keith and Pidge are staring at Lance in open-mouthed shock. Shiro, rubbing the various parts of him that were just brutally attacked, does the same.

Hunk just grins, tossing Lance a water bottle. Lance smirks back, brown eyes bright and mischievous.

“You didn’t tell me you knew how to fight,” Shiro says, once he’s caught his breath.

Lance shrugs. “My main advantage was that you were underestimating me. If you walked into that fight prepared, I’d lose. Also, I don’t really know how to fight. I know gymnastics, and how to take a punch.”

There’s a lot of truth to that. Hunk knows Lance is no stranger to a brawl, but Shiro has actual technique combined with a helluva lot of practice. Plus at least a hundred pounds on Lance. And like Keith pointed out, none of what Lance did had any proper hand-to-hand form. Most of his moves were evasive, or reliant on Shiro’s emotional response.

Still, though. It says something that Lance was able to predict those responses.

“Don’t sell yourself so short, kiddo. I certainly felt that kick you landed. You have to have learnt that somewhere.”

Lance side eyes Hunk before responding — should I tell him?

Hunk shrugs. What’s he gonna do, get you in trouble?

“Uh, there was this…club, at the Garrison,” he says hesitantly. “TIC-TAC-FOE.”

Shiro furrows his brow. “How come I never heard of it?”

“Because it was technically an illegal fight club,” Pidge says, clueing in. “I can’t believe you were a part of that shit.”

“I had a lot of internalized rage,” Lance says primly. “Also, James was in that club, and I found a lot of peace in beating his ass concave.”

“There was an illegal fight club and I didn’t know about it?” Shiro asks, at the same time Keith gasps in horror and yells:

“Oh my God, you’re Taylor!”

Everyone turns to look at Keith questioningly, but he has his face buried in his hands. His ears are red.

“Who the fuck is Taylor?” Lance asks.

“Isn’t he that kid you were always sighing about?” Shiro says. “The cute one with the big smile?”

Keith screams. “Shut up, Shiro!”

There’s a moment of weird, confused silence, and then Hunk gasps, shooting straight up and swivelling his head between Keith in Lance in pure, unbridled glee. Pidge is the next to clue in, cackling.

“This is some good shit,” she says.

“What? What the hell is he talking about?”

Shiro’s the next to start grinning. “Oh, I see.”

Keith screeches again. “Shut up! Everybody shut up! No one talk!”

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk says, enjoying the general air of suffering Keith is giving off. “What was that tagline you had? About your piloting ability?”

Lance looks at him like he’s cracked in the head for bringing that up now, but nonetheless complies.

“‘They call me the tailor because of how I thread the needle,’” he recites.

Hunk can visibly see when it dawns on him. Keith, who has peeked through his fingers just in time to watch Lance’s jaw drop, moans in despair.

“This is not happening to me,” he whispers.

Lance turns to him immediately. “You thought my name was Taylor? We’ve been in the same classes since we were twelve goddamn years old! Our names are right fucking next to each other’s in roll call! I sat behind you! For five fucking years, until we split into the specialty piloting courses!”

“I’m bad with names!” Keith says, gesticulating frantically. “And you said that tailor line a million fucking times! How was I supposed to know?!”

“We have worked on group projects together. I have been calling you my rival since you got picked for the piloting program.”

“Excuse me for forgetting one thing!”

“This makes so much sense,” Shiro says, and he looks devious, which is an expression Hunk never expected to see on him. “I was wondering who that Taylor kid was —”

“—Shiro I am going to shank you if you don’t shut up —”

“I mean, you talked about him all the time —”

“— I promise you it will be a slow death —”

“—but I never saw him in any of your classes —”

“You talked about me all the time?” Lance interrupts, and now he’s grinning, too.

“Fuck off,” Keith says icily. “I did not. Shiro is a liar.”

“Aw,” Lance coos. “That’s cute. I bet you have the biggest crush on me —”

Look.

Look.

Lance is his best friend. His absolute best friend of all time, okay? They’re practically brothers. If anything happened to Lance, Hunk would be more devastated than he has the words to explain. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for the guy.

Including, you know, knocking him down a couple pegs, if that’s what he needs.

“I’d tone down the teasing, Mr. I’d Know That Mullet Anywhere,” Hunk drawls. “Clearly someone was spending a lot of time staring at the back of Keith’s head instead of paying attention during class.”

Lance sputters. “In — in disdain!” is what he decides on, and the excuse is made considerably weaker by the flush on his face, so bright it could probably be used as a beacon to Earth.

“Mhm. And all the excitement when Keith came to watch the TIC-TAC-FOE matches? Also disdain?”

“Obviously!”

This time, it’s Keith’s turn to look all smug.

“Looks like you had a crush on me, too,” he says, taunting. “So there.”

Lance’s eyes flash, and he stomps up to Keith, glaring heavily.

“Well, I bet your crush was bigger than mine!”

“No way! Your crush was bigger way than mine!”

“Well, I never gushed about how cute you are,” Lance says, which is technically true, but only because he talked about ‘annoyingly hot’ Keith was instead.

“So what? Lots of people think you’re cute. That’s an objective thing.” Briefly, Lance blinks and shock, and Keith realises what he said and goes red before doubling down. “Your thing is more embarrassing! You apparently recognised me from, like, a mile away! You’re practically in love with me!”

Lance makes a weird, high pitched sound, halfway between hysterical and apprehensive.

“Am not! You talked about me all the time!”

“So did you!”

“Well, I was just talking about your stupid piloting skills!”

“Ha! You think I’m talented! All I ever talked about was your laugh!”

“And his calculus grades,” Shiro adds, but is resolutely ignored.

“Obviously you’re fucking talented, you show-off, or else you wouldn’t be top of the class!”

“Well, thank you!”

“No, thank you!”

And suddenly they’re left there breathing heavily, glaring, entirely in each other’s space, both angrily going over the argument in their own heads.

It hits them both at the same time. Hunk can tell, because he’s never seen two people look so conflicted in his life.

“There’s no way that was a real thing that just happened,” Pidge mumbles, and Hunk is inclined to agree.

“Do we — do we like each other? For real?” Keith asks quietly, the first to break the silence.

Lance shrugs, a little helplessly. “You’re technically the person I spend the most time thinking about. If I had to count it.”

Keith ducks his head, shy all of a sudden, which is ridiculous, because Hunk just watched him scream half the reasons he was attracted to Lance at the top of his lungs and somehow think he was winning.

“Really?”

“Obviously, you dickhead. Don’t make me say it again.”

“I’m just checking, asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The next sixty seconds are possibly the most embarrassing and awkward seconds Hunk has ever experienced, which is saying something, because he has crippling social anxiety and gets embarrassed a lot.

“Alright,” Shiro says, clapping his hands. Both Keith and Lance jump, looking at each other before hastily looking away.

Dear God.

“I think it’s been long enough that my body is no longer screaming at me after that helluva beat-down. I think I know what we need to work on, Lance, in the future. Shall we move on?”

Thankfully, then do, and Shiro’s fight with Pidge is much less uneventful. Hunk’s turn is also pretty standard.

Keith and Lance, however, spend the entire time looking pointedly away from each other, except for the ten million times they try to sneak a glance at each other, make eye contact, and hastily look away again.

It’s honestly more painful than the one punch Hunk landed on Shiro, who is so muscled it’s akin to hitting a brick wall. (Lance had the right idea with all those evasive manoeuvres. Yikes.)

When they finally finish training, and Shiro dismisses them for the day, Hunk makes a beeline for the showers. He turns the water as hot as it will go, soaking his sore muscles — he can’t imagine how rough poor Shiro must be feeling after fighting three people, plus general paladin training.

Once he’s dressed, he decides to head for his room to chill out for a bit, reasoning that dinner is soon enough that he wouldn’t have time to messing around in the work room he found last week, but maybe he can take a quick nap or something.

He wishes he was more surprised to find Lance sitting on his bed when he opens the door.

“I am having a crisis,” Lance says immediately.

“Hi, Lance. Yes, I’m feeling much better after my shower. Training was hard today. How are you?”

Lance, as per usual, has no issue ignoring Hunk’s brand of sarcasm.

“This is serious,” he insists.

“Buddy,” Hunk says, sitting next to him. “You are not having a crisis. You are being a dumbass.”

“I am not! This is a difficult situation!”

“Well, let’s simplify it. You have a big, embarrassing crush on Keith. Yes or no.”

“He’s my rival.”

“Yes or no, Lance.”

“…Yes.”

“Okay, great. Next problem. Keith has a massive, embarrassing crush on you. Yes or no. Don’t get up in your head about it. Think objectively. Remember he called you cute and said that was obvious to anyone who looks at you.”

“Yes, then, I guess.”

“Great. And do you want to date him?”

This time Lance pauses a moment. Hunk doesn’t rush him. (He and Lance do this often, for each other. Both of them are prone to working themselves up into spirals of anxious overthinking, and it always helps to have someone talk you through it, but Hunk knows not to push him.)

“I…don’t know.”

“Well, you like hanging out with him, right? You always find an excuse to sit next to him at dinner, and somehow it’s always you two who are magically in the same room at the same time.”

“I guess so.”

“And we already established the fact that you’re attracted to him.”

Lance flushes, which is an answer in and of itself. Not that Hunk didn’t already know — he’s heard way too much about Keith’s ‘perfect face’ and ‘dumbass fluffy hair’ and ‘stupid crooked smile’ to be fooled otherwise, thanks.

“What’s your hang-up then, dude? This seems pretty over-and-done to me.”

Lance bites his lip. “I like being rivals.”

“That’s really gay.”

“Fuck off. I know. I just mean that I like arguing with him. What if we start dating and we stop arguing and it’s not fun anymore?”

Hunk thinks he might bash his head through a wall. “Lance,” he says, grasping his best friend’s shoulders and staring deeply into his eyes. “Dude. I don’t know how to tell you this, but you and Keith are very, very annoying. There is nothing either of you loved more than riling each other up. That’s the homoerotic tension. You think that when you start making out regularly you’re going to be less inclined to see Keith all hot and bothered?”

“That is an excellent point, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, you doofus. Obviously. Go ask him to date you already.”

Lance grins at him, still a little unsure, but mostly excited. “Okay. Thank you, Hunk.”

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me a hundred million dollars in therapy money.”

“As soon as I’m a millionaire it’s all yours, Hunky-bear. And Mamá’s.”

It’s a regular joke of their’s, and Hunk rolls his eyes fondly as Lance finally heads for the door, opening it with a flourish.

“Keith?”

Hunk blinks.

No way.

But there he is, the red paladin in the flesh, standing just outside the door with wide eyes. Because Hunk is a side character in their shounen anime, apparently.

“You’re actually here,” Keith blurts. “Um, you weren’t in your room, so I came here. Um. Obviously.”

“…You were looking for me?”

Keith swallows. “Yes.” A beat of silence. “Date me.”

Lance says nothing for a harrowing moment, completely rigid. But then he sighs, exasperated, and completely unable to keep the grin off his face.

“Have to beat me to everything, don’t you, mullet?”

“Everything,” Keith agrees, grin just as wide, and then he’s leaning over to press his lips to Lance’s.

And, like, Hunk is happy for them, and everything, but it’s escalating real fast and something tells him they’ve forgotten that they’re in Hunk’s doorway.

“Get a room,” he complains, whipping a pillow at them. “Not my room. Obviously. Go make out somewhere else.”

They startle apart, proving Hunk absolutely correct — as per usual — and shoot him identical sheepish expressions.

“Sorry, Hunk,” Keith says, and grabs Lance’s hand, pulling him away. Right before they disappear down the hallway, Lance waves giddily at Hunk, and then turns the gooiest expression Hunk has ever seen him wear in Keith’s direction.

Gross.

He walks over to the door to pick up his fallen pillow, and then crawls into bed, shaking his head fondly. His friends are weirdos.

He can’t wait to tell all of Lance’s siblings about this when they get home. It’s going to be hilarious.