Chapter Text
Lance let his head fall out of his hands and onto the bakery counter with a dull thud. “Ugh, I finally raise enough money, and I have no idea where to go.” Hunk glanced over at his pathetic friend and smiled. “Really, Hunk? Does my misery give you that much joy?”
Hunk ignored his question by asking, ”Haven’t you been wanting this for years? How is it that you haven’t done any research until now?”
Lance snorted. “Yeah, like I’m going to trust Yelp reviews with something that will remain on my body forever, great idea.” Hunk just shook his head.
“Anyway, I’m not smiling because of your misery, I’m smiling because I may have a solution to your problem.”
Lance’s head shot up, a horrified look marring his self-proclaimed beautiful face. “What the hell, Hunk?! You have a tattoo! Why is this the first time I’m hearing of this? Where is it? What is it? When were you planning on tell-”
Hunk quickly shoved his hand over Lance’s rapid firing mouth as he continued to express his outrage through wild gestures. “Relax, relax. I don’t have a tattoo, Lance. You were with me at the clinic. If I can barely get my flu shot without hurling, how do you think I would handle multiple needles piercing my skin over and over for a long period of time? And besides, even if I did get one, you know that I would force you to come with me in a feeble yet fruitless attempt to keep my vomit at bay.”
Lance visibly calmed, contemplating Hunk’s words. Hunk retracted his hand as Lance asked,”Then how come you know where I could get a good tattoo? Got any biker friends I don’t know about?”
“My neighbor is a tattoo artist. He may not have tattooed me, but I’ve seen pictures of his work and it’s all really beautiful. He works over at Voltron Ink a couple blocks over.”
“Hey, I think I’ve heard of that place. The one with the weird robot logo?”
“That’s the one. You should stop by and check it out. Just ask for Keith and tell him Hunk sent you.”
“Okay, maybe I will. I’m getting off early tomorrow, so I can probably find the time.”
“Allura letting you off early? That’s unusual,” commented Hunk with raised eyebrows.
Lance smirked and said, “Based on all my recent successes, I don’t find it too hard to believe.”
“Does she have a conference or something? A doctor’s appointment?”
“...She might have a conference to get to, and she might have told me to leave early because she doesn’t trust me to get anything done on my own. But I’m sure the main reason is because of how great I’ve been doing.”
“Whatever you say, Lance.”
Lance brushed off his skeptical friend and dug into the pastry he’d been neglecting in favor of venting. He hoped that this Keith guy was really as great as Hunk made him out to be and that the visit to the tattoo shop would be worth his time.
--
Keith had been having a long day. A very long day. Sure, he loved his job and was immensely grateful that he could do what he was passionate about everyday and get paid for it, but sometimes work sucked, no matter what the profession. First, a man came in at 10:30 in the morning already (or still) drunk off his ass and began yelling at the staff and demanding they tattoo Monica is a stupid cunt on his ass. Keith had at first tried to handle the situation himself which had proved to be a terrible mistake. He kindly and painfully told the man that if he still wanted it when he was sober, they would happily tattoo his left asscheek but that they did not give tattoos to drunks. The man began exclaiming loudly about what an outrage this was and proceeded to try to convince the other customers to leave.
Shiro, having heard the man’s loud and vulgar disruption, came out from the back and took control of the situation as Keith was gripping the counter with white knuckles, poised as if to leap over it and force the man to exit the building. Shiro lowered his voice and asked the man if he would like to discuss the details of the tattoo in his office. After about ten minutes, the man left the building without a word, refusing to look at Keith. Shiro came out after him with an innocent look on his face.
“What did you say to him?” Keith asked.
“Oh, nothing much, just the usual.” Shiro said suspiciously as he unrolled his sleeve to cover his prosthetic arm.
Keith smirked. They both knew that Shiro always used his prosthetic as a means of intimidation as, despite it being an artificial arm, it was solid metal and could inflict an alarming amount of damage. Not that Shiro would have ever done something to the man, but Shiro, with his excess of tattoos, gages, and Iron Man arm, could only be summed up in one word: terrifying. Nevermind the fact that Shiro was actually a giant teddy bear and the ultimate dad friend. Keith had known Shiro for years as he had become his apprentice when he dropped out of high school and came to the city to pursue a career as a tattoo artist. Keith had even lived with him for a while when his landlord kicked him out for being three months late on the rent. Shiro had taken him under his wing and become not only his best friend but a brother to him.
“Do you have anymore scheduled clients today?”
“Not unless that guy comes back sober,” Keith said, earning a chuckle from Shiro.
“Okay, well I have a couple of clients coming today so you can work at the counter until we get a walk in.”
Keith groaned as Shiro gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know you hate customer service but until we hire a new receptionist, the one with the least to do mans the front counter.
Keith nodded and trudged to the front of the shop, bracing himself for the annoying and awkward social interactions to come. Keith had never been good at dealing with customers directly. Coran said it was because he didn’t smile enough, but then Keith had never been a great actor either. When he was being himself, he came off as angry or scary, yet whenever he tried to put on a cheerful face, people always assumed he was being sarcastic or patronizing them. Since the former was the least painful for him and the most efficient in taking care of business, he opted for just being himself. Maybe he came off as too blunt and rude but it was better than the headache that came with trying to make small talk with people that he would otherwise never even share breathing space with, much less talk to.
Whatever he thought. Maybe the rest won’t be so bad today.
--
Lance entered the tattoo parlor and looked around. The interior of the shop was cleaner than he expected, seeing as the street it was located on was caked in grime and trash. The walls were covered in tattoo designs, showcasing the shop artists’ work. His eyes roamed the walls taking in the artwork and admiring the crisp, clean lines of the designs. One in particular caught his eye. It was a bird flapping its wings and the linework for it was amazing. The stark black lines wisped and swayed, perfectly capturing the elegant movement of a bird in flight.
“Can I help you?” A monotone voice came from behind him.
“Uh, yeah, maybe you can. Who designed this b--” Lance turned and the words died in his throat. Woah. Lance grinned. “Actually, you can help me. You can help me a lot. See, I seem to have misplaced something pretty important, and I think that you might have taken it from me.”
“What? I’ve never even met yo--”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure we met in my dreams when you stole my heart.” Lance winked at the hot guy behind the counter who was currently gaping at him.
“... Are you fucking serious?”
“About taking you to dinner on Friday night? Hell yeah, I am.”
Hot guy’s face was now an alarming shade of red which Lance decided to interpret as encouragement.
“I...uh...I-I.” Keith sighed. “You know what, no, I can’t deal with this today. Either tell me why you’re here, or leave.” Lance opened his mouth. “And for the love of God don’t say ‘to see you.’” Lance frowned and thought for a moment.
He pointed to the picture of the bird and asked, “Who designed that bird? If they work here, I’d like for them to design a tattoo for me.”
Keith sighed again. “This is just not my day…” he muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I designed that, though we have plenty of other talented artists that would be happy to assi-” Keith said hurriedly in a fruitless attempt to save himself from the terrible fate awaiting him.
“Beautiful and talented. I like it.”
Keith felt his face heat up even more, if that was even possible; a mixture of anger and embarrassment rose to the apples of his cheeks. He opened his mouth to give this guy a piece of his mind but then abruptly closed it. No. Shiro had already had to intervene before when he couldn’t control his temper. He wasn’t going to let that happen this time. He needed to stop making problems for Shiro and then waiting for him clean up his mess. Keith could do this. He just had to be professional.
“But, I did come here with a referral for a specific artist, so I should probably mention that first.”
Keith perked up a bit. Finally, a stroke of luck. “Oh, who is the artist? If they’re working today, you can meet with them instead.”
“Well, my friend Hunk told me about this guy Keith? I haven’t seen any of his work but I guess I should check it out before I make a decision, seeing as he’s the reason I came in.”
Well, it was official. Keith had, unbeknownst to himself, committed some terrible crime in his sleep last night, causing the universe to harbor a personal vendetta against him. Because, honestly, Keith could not think of any other plausible reason for being so unlucky today. He sighed, “...I look forward to working with you.”
Lance delivered a blinding smile and exclaimed, “Seriously? This must be my lucky day, if I get to spend more time with you. The name’s Lance.”
“Do you have anything in mind for your tattoo already? If you’d like, I can schedule a consultation so that you, and I can discuss it in detail,” Keith choked out through gritted teeth, attempting to steer the conversation away from himself.
Lance would not be deterred as he said, “Just the two of us, talking, getting to know each other… sounds like a date.”
This guy was impossible. “Well, as romantic as the cramped office in the back of the shop is, I’m not planning on discussing anything other than your tattoo.”
“That’s the same as getting to know me, though. I have to tell you the story behind it for you to get the feel of it, right? Can I come in on Saturday at 11:30?”
Hmm. Maybe he wasn’t completely stupid. It always annoyed Keith when people came in and expected him to know exactly what was in their heads without explaining anything to him. All of his best work came from helpful and specific clients who could describe their vision clearly or at least what the direction they wanted the design to go in. Keith understood more than most how difficult it could be to share private feelings or memories with a stranger, but it was necessary in creating a piece that captured the meaning they wanted it to have. Though, in all fairness, Lance didn’t seem like the type to be uncomfortable with sharing information about himself.
Keith’s poker face broke for a few seconds as he looked up at Lance and smiled after penciling in the appointment. “Alright, it’s a date, then.”
Fuck. Someone needed to call 911 because he was pretty sure his heart stopped after that smile. How could someone be such a dick one second and then a heavenly angel the next? Apparently, that smile was not good for Lance’s confidence because he was so surprised at the sudden change in Keith’s response that all of the smooth lines that had been pouring into his head disappeared, leaving behind a blank canvas. “Um..I-I.” Keith waited for him to continue, but strangely he didn’t. What the hell? Was something wrong with him? Was he broken?
“I’ll see you on Saturday…?” Keith finished for him.
“Yes! Right, y-yeah, that’s what I meant. Well, then, good night. I mean goodbye.” Lance said, blushing at his embarrassing mistake.
“See you.” Keith laughed in the form of a cute little snort and waved at Lance, who had now walked backwards to the door.
“See you,” Lance said his voice cracking a bit on the last word as he flung himself out of the shop, trying to maintain at least a shred of dignity-- assuming he still had some left. He had completely fallen apart, but he couldn’t help it. Keith should not be allowed to look that cute. He was a serious danger to the confidence of innocent and sexy young men such as himself. One look from Keith and he had been reduced to a stuttering, blushing mess. He hadn’t felt this tongue-tied since his freshmen year of college when the first girl he’d talked to had been the beautiful (and evil) Nyma. Even compared to that time though, this felt different.
--
The bakery door burst open as Lance marched in with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance marring his normally carefree face. He stomped over to the counter, glad that for once the sweet shop was relatively empty because he had a few strong words to say to the man behind the counter. “Hunk, what the hell?! How could you let me go in blind like that? I thought that you of all people, my padawan, would know to give a guy a fucking warning!”
“Lance, be quiet! And what are you talking about? Did you not like his designs or something?”
Lance snorted. “His designs! No, they were gorgeous and guess what? SO IS HE! You didn’t tell me he was hot!”
Hunk looked genuinely surprised at this. “Really? I didn’t think he was your type. But I guess now that I think about it…anyone is your type.”
“No, it’s just that Keith is the type okay? He’s like supermodel level attractive and also by the way a total asshole which you definitely should have told me about but more on that later. The point is next time, I need at least a 24 hour notice. I could have come up with so many good tattoo related lines by then.”
“Then you’re welcome, because if you used a line like ‘nice tattoos, how far do they go,’ Keith probably never would have spoken to you again.” Hunk shuddered just at the thought of such a horrifying interaction. Good thing Keith had stunned him, or Lance would probably be in the hospital.
“Why didn’t I think of that? That’s genius! All my lines were terrible.”
Hunk sighed at his oblivious friend; he refused to learn from his past mistakes and the number of drinks that had been thrown on him.
“First of all, I hope you’re kidding. Second of all, it’s not about the lines, Lance. I mean, yeah, they were probably terrible but that’s not the point.” Hunk glanced up to see if Lance was absorbing anything he was saying only to catch him trying to sneak a dab of frosting from the cake he had just finished icing.
Smack!
“Oww! Hunk!” Lance whined.
“I don’t know Keith that well, but I do know that he doesn’t go for shallow pick up lines or casual flings. From what I can understand, he’s really intense and doesn’t befriend people easily. I mean, I’ve lived next to him for about a year now and we’ve only had a handful of conversations, none of which were overly personal.”
“So, what are you saying? I should just not show him I’m interested in him?” Lance asked, as if that option had never occurred to him.
“No, I just don’t think you should rush into it. Try being friends with him first. Otherwise, you aren’t going to get very far and your tattoo sessions will become increasingly awkward.”
“But his personality is awful!”
“So, you are only interested in his looks. If that’s the case, then you should definitely give up.” Hunk concluded.
“No, it’s just. Ugh. Talking to him is infuriating because he’s such an asshole but then I get distracted by how attractive and talented he is. Huuunk, how do I get a boy to like me?”
Hunk laughed as his friend whined about his newest “love.” Lance was always doing this, falling for someone at first sight and obsessing over them to Hunk. Honestly, Lance could probably have a partner by now despite his terrible methods of flirting because he was nothing if not persistent. The only problem was that whenever the current object of his affections started to warm up to him, he would give up on the assumption that it was hopeless and be crushing on someone else by the next day. If he just didn’t come on so strong at first and tried to befriend them first, he would probably have a much better track record for relationships. And maybe that was why Hunk was telling him to only hope for friendship with Keith.
“Hey, don’t you have work in like, ten minutes?”
Lance shot up from his slumped position on the bakery counter. “Shit! What time is it? Allura’s going to kill me!” Without waiting for an answer, Lance sprinted out of the bakery and down the street, dreading the tongue-lashing he would receive when he arrived at work.