When Keith came out of the bathroom, Lance, and all of his belongings, were gone. He just straight up disappeared. And it stayed like that. For weeks.

Kolivan had postponed the plan because there was a new shipment that Pidge had found was coming. It was expensive and they had to modify the plan.

So, Keith didn't go to Voltron. He went to class, then work, then the warehouse, then home. Then he repeated it all over again, never getting more than four hours of sleep. Keith was dead on his feet.

Keith was sitting against the wall in the warehouse when Acxa sat down next to him.

"You wanna get a drink?"

Keith's gaze slid over to her. Keith had thought that Acxa was his sister when he first found his mom all those years ago. They looked really similar; both Korean, slim faces, similar colored eyes. Acxa was older than him, though. By less than a year, so it wouldn't have made sense.

Acxa looked at him expectantly, her face a little pinker than before.

'Maybe it's the heat,' Keith thought.

"Sure."

And that's how Keith ended up in this situation. They went to a bar that was filled to the brim with college students. And they were both drunk.

"Keith. I like you," Acxa slurred after downing her seventh shot.

Keith had sipped second shot and was already feeling reckless, so he downed three more.

"I like you too," Keith swayed on his feet before looking Acxa in the eye. "I'm gonna go make out with someone."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, but Keith stumbled off and found the first guy he could see. It was a huge jock. The All-American type.

"You gay?" Keith slurred, to which the jock flushed and looked away. Score.

Keith flung himself forward and kissed the jock.

"Me too!" He sang and kissed the guy harder. The jock, who mumbled that he was Chad, kissed Keith fiercely.

The people around Chad and Keith cheered and they were promptly jostled away from each other and smack into other people. And the universe decided to say, fuck you, and Keith fell into Lance.

"Keith?!" Lance exclaimed, holding him at arm's length.

"Lance!" He exclaimed gleefully. "I made out with Chad." Keith tried to stage whisper but ended up just talking louder than normal.

"Who? Chad?" Lance looked around the room and saw the buff, blond Chad getting pats on the back. "Straight as a ruler, Chad?" Lance almost shouted.

Keith laughed breathily into Lance's ear. "Not anymore." Keith stuck his tongue out, grinning like the Joker.

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe," Keith shrugged, pulling Lance towards him.

"How many drink's did you have?"

"Five shots. Ac-Acxa, gave them to me."

"You've had five and you're already acting like this? Who's Acxa?"

Keith shrugged, before looking towards the bar and pointing. He pointed to a girl with sheared periwinkle hair and wearing tight leather pants.

"So, you don't know her?"

"I do." And Keith left it at that and toddled over to Acxa who was sitting surrounded by empty glasses and staring down at a glass of something murky.

"Acxa!"

Acxa immediately looked up and pouted.

"Keith? You said you liked me and then just walked off," Acxa said, with watery eyes before she saw Lance and her expression hardened. "Who are you?"

"I'm, um, a friend, I think?"

"You think?" Acxa stood up, but not before downing the rest of her drink. "Let go. I need to get him home."

"No," Keith suddenly piped up. "I want to make out with someone. I want sex."

Lance and Acxa both flushed.

"I, um," Acxa started off, biting her lip. "I can give you that."

Keith rolled his eyes and pointed at himself.

"I'm gay. I want to pound and be pounded," Keith pushed off of Lance, stumbling against the bar, and scanned the crowd. "Where's Chad? He-He'll be down."

Then three things happened at once. Keith promptly passed out, Acxa burst into tears, and . stopped computing.

When Keith woke up the next morning, his head was pounding.

"What the fuck?" He groaned, scratching his head. He groaned and tried to run to his bathroom but found out he was in a vaguely familiar setting and threw up on himself and the floor.

"Keith?" Lance called, opening the door.

"Shut up. Where am I?"

Lance bent down and took in Keith's vomit covered naked torso and the bags underneath his eyes and sighed.

"You're a mess."

"No shit, Sherlock. I need a shower. Do you—"

"Have a shower? Yes, actually. I do take showers, if you couldn't tell, Lance said with a grin too bright for that early in the morning.

"I was going to say, do you have a painkiller and water?" Keith paused. "Why am I here?"

Lance smiled and helped Keith off of the floor.

"Shower first."

Keith grumbled to himself as he stripped right then and there, not giving a quiznack. He felt nauseous and dizzy and sweaty and his head hurt. A little nudity wouldn't kill anyone.

"W-What are you doing?!" Lance shouted, spinning around.

Or maybe it would.

"Taking a shower, dumbass."

"I mean, why are you stripping in front of me?!"

"What part of 'I'm taking a shower' do you not understand?" Keith glanced back at Lance before shaking his head and walking to the bathroom.

Keith frowned as he looked at himself in the mirror. Scars covered his thighs and his hips. Bruises were on his hips strangely enough. He also had vomit on his chest. He shrugged. What could you do when you're hungover in someone else's house?

Keith climbed into the shower, letting the events from last night and this morning wash off of him. The hot water helped clear his head and relax him a bit. He rinsed out his mouth.

"I'm never drinking again," Keith groaned, putting his head against the cold tile. He took a deep breath and picked up the first thing he saw, which was a very fruity smelling shampoo. So, he washed his hair, face, and body with it. Then rubbed some conditioner in his hair. He usually just got a three-in-one, so he wouldn't have to spend so much money, but he was feeling special.

Keith waited a few more minutes before rinsing the conditioner out. Then he left the shower and dried off using a towel that was on a rack. It was probably Lance's.

He left the bathroom and went to rummage around Lance's drawers. He grabbed his, thankfully, clean underwear from the pile of his clothes on the floor. He had taken a shower before going to the warehouse.

Then he grabbed joggers from Lance's drawer and a sweatshirt from the closet and set out.

"Lance," Keith called, lethargic and in pain. He looked around and saw a hair tie on the stand of the tv. He pulled up his wet hair into a bun and pulled the hood over his head.

"Lance, I'm sore," Keith called out louder, turning around and seeing Hunk, Pidge, and Lance all staring at him. "…oh."

Pidge's eyes grew to the size of dinnerplates and a gleeful, sinister grin made it's way on her face.

"That's where that hickey came from!" She shrieked, cackling.

"Hickey?" Keith's eyebrows rose, and he looked at Lance, who did indeed have a hickey on his neck close to his collarbone. "Did I do that? Did we have sex?"

"No!" Lance cried out, indignantly. "You were too wasted anyway." Lance had grumbled the last part under his breath, but Keith still heard it. Keith flushed a little but kept his face impassive as he moved around to the cupboards to grab a glass of water.

"Here." Lance held out a glass of water and dropped some pills into Keith's hand.

Keith grunted in acknowledgement as he dry-swallowed the pills, then followed it with water.

Keith sat down at the table and pursed his lips.

"So…."

"So…," Lance replied, awkwardly.

"Well! We have a something to do at the place where the something is," Pidge blurted, saving then from more awkwardness, then she grabbed Hunk's arm and shoved him out of the door, with a wry comment of "Use protection!"

Lance and Keith looked at each other in shock before laughing. They laughed for a while both wheezing for air.

"Okay, then," Keith said, getting the last few of his giggles out. "So, I'm hungry and still kind of hungover. Should we go out or…?"

"Oh, no. I can cook. Just stay seated and I'll whip something up."

Keith blinked, before looking down and worrying his lip between his teeth. He couldn't remember the last time someone cooked for him. Maybe his dad?

"Okay so saying I can cook is kind of a stretch. This is just fried eggs and café con leche, which is literally coffee with milk. I mean I can make tamales and ropa vieja and waffles and pancakes, but that's about it," Lance said, putting down the eggs in front of Keith.

"My dad could barely cook either. He could only make eggs and a few Korean dishes."

"Oh," Lance sat next to Keith digging into his own meal. "He's Korean, then?

"No, actually. He's, um, he was a Texas man. Like, from a long line of Texan cowboys."

"Dios mío! That's what it was! You had an accent last night and it was really thick too and I couldn't figure out what it was!"

"Oh yeah. I'm a Texas-born half-Korean."

Lance laughed into his eggs. Keith smiled, taking a sip of his coffee.

"So, last night. I went out drinking, then gave you a hickey. What happened between that?"

"Oh, um. Well, you were wasted when I found you at the bar last night. You said you made out with Chad, who was apparently not as straight as I thought, even though he's like Mr. Straight. I'm actually kind of disappointed because I flirted with him plenty of times and he never did anything."

Keith blinked.

"I what?! I made out with someone?"

Lance nodded. "That's not even all you said. So, you came out to some Alex chick who was so super interested in you."

"Acxa?"

"Yeah. Anyway," Lance continued, amused at the growing horror on Keith's face. "You said, and I quote, 'I'm gay. I want to pound and be pounded.' Then you passed out and Acxa? Is that right? Acxa? Well, she cried, so I called her an Uber and I took you here. Then you woke up, tried to strip, and, um, get me to have sex with you."

"Did we?" Keith said, not really concerned.

"No! I told you earlier!"

"Okay! I was just wondering. I mean, it happens, you know. Sometimes you get wasted and you end up in someone's bed." Keith kind of shrugged, like it was no big deal, but Lance was a little worried.

"Does that happen often?" Keith looked up at Lance, alarmed at the soft look in his eyes.

"I-I don't know. I'm a lightweight, so I don't go out much," Keith's brows furrowed. "What else happened?"

"Um, you couldn't get your pants off, almost started crying, then pulled off my shirt and gave me this," Lance said, pointing to his neck.

"Oh," Keith's face was tomato red. "Anything else?"

"You tried to get my pants off too, but you passed out before you could get too far."

Lance and Keith both just sat, sipping their lukewarm coffees, with blushes on their faces.

'Well. This isn't awkward,' Lance thought, avoiding eye contact, fully aware that Keith was doing the exact same thing.