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6. “I’m sorry” kiss
“Talk to him,” Shiro had said, giving Keith a sharp look when he’d grumbled under his breath. He remembered the impatient sigh his older brother had given him, his legs absently bringing him down the hallway towards the common room. “You started this, Keith. You finish it.”
He froze in the doorway, eyes landing on the neat swaths of brown hair that belonged to his course of strife. His head turned, hearing the sound of Keith’s shoulder accidentally hitting the doorway as he stopped, and his eyebrows jumped to his hairline before crossing down again. He almost growled, and Keith tried not to flinch, keeping his expression flat.
“Well look who it is!” Lance said, his voice snappy and gruff, and Keith could feel the guilt he’d roiled inside himself churn. “The guy who basically told me I’m trash and a worthless asset to the team. How do you do? Ruin anyone else’s day?”
“Lance-” He started, taking a step into the common room before the other abruptly stood up, snapping the book he’d apparently been reading closed and tossing it to the cushions. The sound made Keith freeze again.
“No, don’t you Lance me,” He snapped, eyes fierce on Keith. “You are such an asshole, thinking you’re so much better than me just because you don’t have to work hard at anything you do, when I have to spend hours in the training room to even reach your warm-up level.”
“Lance, I just-” But the brunet cut him off again.
“No Keith, I really don’t wanna hear it.” Lance growled, turning to leave, and something akin to panic bubbled up in Keith’s gut.
“I’m sorry!” He blurted out, and he hated that his voice cracked. Lance stopped, and turned to look at him with nothing short of malice. Keith dragged his eyes away, forcing down the tremble trying to overtake his shoulder. “Just… I’m sorry. For what I said. I didn’t mean it and I get it if you hate me now. I’m sorry.” And with that he forced himself to turn away and retreat back the way he came, boots echoing loudly in the hallway around him.
He heard another pair of shoes trot after him, and Lance calling his name but he ignored it. He picked up his pace, but the other broke into a run to catch up to him, and he felt fingers wrap around his bicep to turn him around.
“Keith, I said wait!” Lance said, but Keith smacked his hand away.
“Why? You already hate me because I can’t keep my mouth shut when I’m angry. Why should I wait.. for you..” He ducked his head and took a step back, and Lance’s hands faltered as he reached for him again.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” His voice was soft, and Keith let him slide his fingers under his jaw and drag his head back, thumbing away gentle tears Keith hadn’t realized he’d started shedding. Keith sniffled, Lance leaned down, and that was all it took for Keith to lean into him and let their lips collide in a tentative kiss, deepening it as they both tried to pour apologies into each other with teeth and tongue and spit. Keith’s fingers reached up and tangled themselves in the front of Lance’s shirt, and Lance held onto his shoulders, nails biting crevices into his skin that Keith could feel through his sleeves.
“I’m sorry,” Keith murmured when they broke apart and Lance dragged his sleeve over his hand to dab at the dark-haired boy’s face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Lance shook his head, “It’s okay, I knew you were having a bad day. I shouldn’t have antagonized you so much. I should apologize, too.” And when Keith tried to apologize again, Lance shushed him with another brush of lips, free hand wrapping around Keith’s back and pressing him protectively against him.
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