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You could hear the music in the frat house from the parking lot outside-- the heavy, beating bass mixed with the laughter and shrieks of the people inside. Keith regarded it carefully. Pidge had told Keith and Lance in the car that he wouldn't have accepted the invitation to the party if the person who'd invited him hadn't gone out of his way to specify that the frat "only played good music". 

"Not that there's anything wrong with regular frat music," he'd said quickly, "but if I'm going to be sober all night, I might as well enjoy the soundtrack." Keith had told Pidge insistently that he didn't need to be the designated driver, that he wanted the freshman to be able to live a little for the night, that his apartment was a mere 10 minute walk from the frat house, but Pidge had been adamant that he'd be the sober one for the night because he had to be at his job early the next morning. 

Keith himself had never really been much of a drinker-- his mom had been an alcoholic in her college years and had constantly told him how much it had fucked up her life in the long run, but he secretly thanked her for her genes when he could hold his own in drinking games. 

The three walked up to the frat house and noticed a tall, buff dude standing in front of the door with his arms crossed over his massive chest. Keith hid a smile- he reminded him of Shiro. The guy looked down at the boys as they approached, his eyes walking over each of their outfits as if determining their worth. For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, he rolled his eyes and grunted something like "come on in", swinging the door open for them. Perplexed, Keith entered first, followed by Pidge and Lance. 

"How did he-" Keith started before turning around and noticing Lance had put on a baseball cap with 'NYC Pride 2016' written in rainbow letters on it. Pidge and Lance were snickering to each other maniacally. 

"Girls and gays get in for free," Pidge giggled uncontrollably at Keith's dumbfounded expression. Lance's face was getting red from laughing so hard. Now it was Keith's turn to roll his eyes. 

"You guys go explore, I'll get us something to drink," he said, setting his bag and sweatshirt down behind the door where no one would be tempted to rifle through it. Lance and Pidge put their things with Keith's before wandering off together, arm in arm. Keith was relieved that they were getting along so well-- his friends approval was really important to him and he liked Lance too much to let go of him. 

The frat house consisted of three main rooms downstairs: a screened-in sunroom area where a beer pong table was set up with a crowd of rowdy teenagers surrounding it, a dark kitchen set-up with a long counter serving as a bar and a cooler filled to the brim with water and Capri-suns, and a third room beyond that where most of the people were, dancing in a sweaty, comfortably cramped sea of bodies. The third room was also where the strobe lights were coming from and where Lance and Pidge had disappeared into. ,

Keith approached the bar and asked the bartender, a muscled, tough-looking woman with her hair in two puffy space buns, for two White Claws. As she went to the fridge behind the counter to get them, he also grabbed a Capri-sun from the cooler for Pidge. 

After getting the drinks, Keith began to make his way through the crowd to the third room. As he passed the last seat at the bar, a tall, gorgeous man with long, silvery hair pulled up into a slick ponytail breathed a plume of smoke into his face, smirking. Keith was immediately transported onto Hunk's back porch, where Shiro had let him take a drag from one of his cigarettes his senior summer. Cigarette smoke smelled nothing like the warm, musty scent of the weed Hunk hid in his basement and pulled out on special occasions. It was sharp and noxious and it made Keith's lungs recoil in his ribcage. 

He gave the silver-haired man a dark glare, but the offender just laughed in a low, amused voice. "Adorable," he purred, delicately flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the floor with long, lithe fingers before turning back to his conversation with the bartender, who regarded him with guarded yet intrigued eyes. Keith shook the interaction off, heart-set on having  good night no matter how uncomfortable other people made him. 

It didn't take him long to find Lance, dancing completely obliviously in the center of the crowd. Pidge was off to the side by the DJ, looking with wide eyes at the wires and computers woven and connected together. Keith smiled, he was glad the freshman had found something to entertain himself with. After giving a thankful Pidge his Capri-sun, Keith carefully waded into the pulsing crowd of drunk, dancing teenagers. 

Sweat was already starting to glisten off Lance's skin when Keith finally reached him. The brunette had ditched his sweatshirt, wearing a ribbed (and slightly cropped) tank top. Droplets of moisture sparkled like embedded diamonds over his collarbone and shoulders and his eyes were mostly lidded, his eyelashes brushing his perfect freckled cheeks. Keith slid his hands over Lance's hips to turn him so they faced each other and Lance's eyes flew open, then softened when he realized it was only Keith. Keith held out the White Claw to Lance and the boy took it thankfully. 

Keith looked out across the crowd, recognizing a few faces he knew from school but didn't know well enough to interact with. His eyes found Lance's again, which were trained on him intently. Lance took a long gulp of the hard seltzer and slung one arm up and around Keith's neck, pulling him closer. "I never really took you for a party person, now that I think about it, Mullet." Keith resisted scowling at the nickname. 

"I took you for one," he retorted dryly. Lance laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after taking another sip. He regarded Keith with low-lidded eyes. 

"You know, the "meeting the parents" step usually comes after the first kiss step. I don't think my mom was expecting to meet you this early on."

Keith quirked an eyebrow. "'Steps'? What is this, a recipe?"

"More like a videogame. 'Congratulations, Player Keith! You just unlocked 'Meeting the Parents!'" Lance giggled. "When do I get to unlock your Tragic Backstory?"

Keith scoffed. "I think we need to go back a few steps, did you say something about a first kiss?"

Lance's blush was as apparent as it was adorable. "It was hypothetical..."

Lowering his eyes to look at Lance's full, pink lips, Keith leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "I'll kiss you right now, if you want me to, Mcclain." He was pleased to feel the shiver than ran over Lance's body. It was like they were the only ones there, the crowd around them nothing but background noise. Lance's cobalt eyes were wide and the strobe lights that flashed around the room cast his skin in a myriad of bright colors. He was so pretty it almost hurt to look at him. 

All of the sudden, there was a surge in the crowd and the party-goers let out drunken shrieks as they stumbled and slumped into each other. The moment was broken. Someone behind Keith elbowed him firmly in the ribs and he tripped forward into Lance, overbalancing them. They would have completely toppled over if it weren't for the sea of bodies surrounding them that unconsciously pushed them back upright. 

Lance laughed, his hands on Keith's chest, downing the rest of the White Claw before stomping it down to a disk and frisbeeing it into the nearest trashcan with a deft flick of his wrist. Keith did the same (with nothing near the same amount of accuracy but the can still landed in the general vicinity of the trash) and left Lance to go get more drinks and check in on Pidge. 

Thankfully, Pidge and the DJ were bonding over some computer coding thing, completely nerding out, and the bar was nowhere near out of White Claws. Unfortunately, the white-haired dickhead from before hadn't left his post at the bar, sitting primly with his legs crossed and a beer bottle in on hand, lounging lazily against the counter like a cat. Keith could feel the man's eyes on him as he ordered the drinks and, when he couldn't fucking stand it anymore, he turned to meet his gaze. 

"I'll take two shots of Tito's, if you've got it, Zethrid," the man said to the bartender silkily, keeping eye contact with Keith. The bartender, Zethrid, rolled her eyes, but complied. After the shots were poured, Keith was vaguely surprised when the man slid one of them down the counter to him. What is this, 'The Greatest Showman'? What, asshole, you want me to be the co-director of a circus with you?

"On me," the man said airily, picking up his shot. 

Keith looked down his nose at the shot in disgust. Vodka wasn't the worst choice, but he didn't like shots to begin with. "Did you poison it?" he asked icily.

"No, but I can spit in it if that'll make it go down easier," the man replied in the same tone. 

Keith eyed the man suspiciously. In a swift moment, he picked up the shot, tipped it into his mouth, and swallowed as quickly as he could, the Vodka burning his throat the whole way down. It took serious concentration not to purse his lips like he'd just eaten a lemon. The man tipped his shot back too and licked his lips after swallowing. 

"Do I know you or something?" Keith asked, annoyance creeping into his voice. 

"Or something."

Keith grabbed the Claws and a water for Pidge. "'K, then. Thanks for the shot."

The man waved his hand as if to dismiss Keith and turned back to his beer. That was fucking weird. 

...

heheheheehe we love a good lotor cameo

i might get a new chapter in today or tomorow - we'll see

qotd #2: what's your favorite kind of autumn food or drink? like thanksgiving foods hehe

id die for a nice hot mug of apple cider ANY day of the week <3

luv u luv u lots n lots