Chapter Text
Keith thanks the cashier, swinging the large bag - the white logo of ‘Marmora Eats’ contrasting boldly against the dark purple of the material - over his shoulder and exits the takeaway, the smell of curry disappearing as the door clicks shut behind him. He checks the address and shakes his head. How could one house order so much food so often? And why was he always landed with the job? Grumbling to himself, he unlocks his bike and takes off in the familiar direction.
After a few minutes of cycling through the streets in quiet bliss, a loud bell rings from behind him. Keith’s chest tightens. That obnoxious bell could only belong to one person: Lance, from Voltron deliveries. A moment passes before Lance - in his windswept, ocean eyed glory - pulls into line beside him, his white helmet gleaming from the glow of the streetlamps.
Keith had come to know Lance through a rather unusual series of events.
“Yo!” Keith turned his head to see another cyclist behind him. “Is that a mullet?”
Keith glanced at the road once before fixing his eyes back on the stranger.
“Excuse me?”
Apparently this guy took that as a ‘I can’t hear you’ rather than a ‘why the hell are you trying to have a conversation with me’. Before Keith knew what was happening, he was face to face with the random cyclist who, Keith observed, was donned in fluorescent pink gear.
“I said ‘is that a mullet?’” He repeated. Keith just peered at him curiously. Obviously frustrated, the stranger gestured to his head. “It’s poking out from under your helmet. It’s not the eighties y’know.”
“I’m sorry, do I know you,” Keith asked incredulously. The stranger shook his head.
“Nope! Just trying to make some conversation. I’m Lance. Voltron Deliveries.”
“Keith. Marmora Eats.” Keith’s reply was blunt but he didn’t care. The sooner he shook this guy the better. He had work to do.
“Marmora Eats? We’re rivals right?” It takes Keith a minute to realise what he was trying to say.
“I guess?” He shrugged, eyes glancing down to his phone screen - which was attached to his handlebars - to check he was going the right way. Lance noticed this.
“Where’s your stop?” His eyes fill with panic suddenly. “Shit, wait, is that confidential? I’m new to this, sorry--”
“Wait, no, you’re fine. Street names don’t really matter,” Keith sighed, accepting he was going to have company for a while. “I’m headed to Arus Gardens. Super rich family - I’ve ended up there a few times.”
“Lance let out a gasp. “Mine’s for Arus Gardens too! Not your exact house, I’m sure, but the same area at least. This is so cool, who’d have guessed it?”
Not me that's for sure, Keith thought.
When they reached Arus Gardens, both cyclists split off halfway down the main street of the cul de sac. Their customers lived straight across the road from each other. Typical.
“Here you go ma’am, enjoy your evening.” Keith handed over the bags to a stout, older woman who thanked him and gave him a generous tip. Keith loved rich neighbourhoods.
It wasn’t until the next week that he saw Lance again and, sure enough, both of them were headed to Arus Gardens.
”Marmora mullet man!” Keith could not believe this guy. Once again he pulled in beside him on the thin cycle path, fluorescent pink gear replaced with bright green which made Keith’s eyes hurt for a few seconds.
“Hi. And it’s Keith.”
“Right. Sorry, names take a while to stick for me. I’m Lance, if you’d forgotten as well,” Lance explained. Keith, to his surprise, hadn’t forgotten. Flashes of blue eyes and wide smiles had been living behind his eyelids rent free that week.
“I know who you are. What do you want?”
“Hey, no need to be so grumpy.” Lance scowled but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “I assume you’re dropping off at Arus?”
“Yup.” Keith nodded reluctantly.
“So am I, once again. This is fate, Keith, I’m telling you.” Lance smirked. He cleared his throat, “Anyway, why don’t we race? I know a few shortcuts. It’ll be fun.”
Keith shot him a look.
“Are you joking? Lance, we’re working right now.”
“You’re just scared that you’ll lose,” Lance pushed, eyes locked with Keith’s. “No one can beat Blue.”
He gestured to his bike. Keith felt a streak of competitiveness spark in his gut. He was going to leave Lance in the dust.
“Fine,” he grumbled, ignoring Lance’s cheer of victory. “Let’s go.”
Both of them sped off in the direction of Arus Gardens. Both households were rather impressed with the delivery time and Keith received another lovely tip. Nice.
“Keith, my man.” Lance lifts one hand in a small salute. He no longer wore an abundance of bright colours but instead had his bike decorated with multiple flashing lights. They danced in the darkness of the street.
“Evening, Lance,” he replies, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead of him. “You off to Arus again?”
“Yeah,” Lance concedes. “How they can afford all this beats me. I have like… fifty dollars in my bank account and that’s probably how much they spend on takeout in three days alone. Where are you headed?”
Keith bites down a grin as he realises they’re going the same way. Again. He should probably expect it by now. “Their richer neighbours.”
“Yes!” Lance beams, “Guess you’re stuck with me for another few miles then.”
“Guess so.” Keith registers how close Lance’s front wheel is getting to his own. “You really shouldn’t be in the middle of the road; a car could appear at any moment and squish you. Or our wheels could collide and we’d both end up in a joint ward in the hospital with broken arms and empty pockets.”
“Here’s hoping,” Lance quips back, showing Keith his crossed fingers, his other hand steady on his handlebars. Keith fixes him with a frown and Lance rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Keith, how many times have I done this? Plus, I can’t see any death machines nearby so I think I’m good. And as long as you don’t purposely crash into my bike...”
Keith glances to him briefly before his eyeline drifts back to the street which is, indeed, empty. Silence passes between the two and Keith hears Lance’s fingers tapping out a rhythm on his knee as he steers the bike one-handed with ease. Keith knows he can’t stand silence. He has many a time been subject to Lance’s blabbering as he searches for something to say. Lance’s persistent tapping unlocks a memory from a few weeks ago.
“The band,” he blurts out, taking Lance by surprise (if the slight swerve of his bike is anything to go by) and he fumbles over his next words, “I mean-- how’s that band of your’s going? The...um…”
“The Blue Lions?” Lance smiles and Keith nods. “Yeah, good actually. My friend let us play in his garage, it’s massive so it works pretty well. Fits the drums and keys and the three of us, I mean, what else could we ask for? Pidge is bugging me for a smoke machine but I don’t think it would be entirely responsible letting one of those off in there. Shiro would come down and kick each of our asses personally.”
Keith almost flies off his bike he brakes so hard. Lance sails on, head whipping back in confusion. Keith’s eyes widen and he pedals swiftly to catch up with him.
“Did you say Shiro?” Lance nods hesitantly. Keith stares, “What’s his full name?”
“Um, Takashi Shirogane. Why?” Lance’s eyes are full of concern. Keith doesn’t know how to feel.
“That garage your band has rehearsal in? It’s my brother’s.” Now it was Lance’s turn to be shocked. His jaw goes slack.
“Are you kidding me?” Then he gasps, “Keith! We have a mutual friend!”
Keith raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t really know if friend really cuts it. He’s my annoying older brother who acts like he’s a forty year old when he’s really twenty seven.”
“But still,” Lance almost squeals out, “How did we not realise this until now? It’s been how many months?”
Keith watches as he counts out the time in his head.
“Three,” he supplies. Lance’s head whips around to him, both eyebrows raised. His expression melts into one of excitement.
“Aw, Keith, we’ve been rival delivery partners for three months! I should get you some flowers to celebrate. Get some champagne and a gorgeous Italian dinner.”
Keith freezes for a moment, trying to figure out if Lance is being serious. He doesn’t look any different than usual so Keith settles with:
“Yeah, maybe.” Lance’s face falters for a moment but he quickly gathers himself and focuses on his task. Another silence follows.
“I still can’t believe you know Shiro. It’s a small world, huh.” Lance pipes up. Keith catches his eye briefly.
“It certainly is. Here we are.” They reach the turning into Arus Gardens, Lance going first as usual, Keith tailing him.
Five minutes later, Keith is back on his bike, the satisfying weight of the tip in his pocket putting a smile on his face. He waits for Lance to meet him and they head back to the main road.
“Are you done for the day,” Lance asks him once they’ve safely turned.
“Yeah, you?”
“Yup.”
“Cool.” Keith stares at his handlebars for a moment, replaying their conversation from earlier. Three months. He takes a deep breath. “I can cycle home with you. Fill you in on some stories of Shiro in high school?”
He lifts his head to see Lance beaming.
“Yeah,” he replies. “That would be nice.”