Summary:

"Do you want to go to regionals?"

"You know I do..." He grumbles, still hiding his face beneath his arm.

"So then you should go and apologize and beg him to give you a chance."

.............................................................................................

"How much lasagne did you say you made?"

"Like, enough to feed a whole family."

"And he ate half of that?"

"Yup."

"And now he's on a tub of ice cream."

"Yup. Good thing I just went grocery shopping. Though if we don't stop him we may need to go replenish our ice cream stock soon."

"Under normal circumstances I would fight him for that ice cream, but... I'm not willing to get between him and that tub."

"Yeaaah, me neither, to be honest. He may only have a spoon, but I don't trust it. Maybe he'll tire himself out eventually. You know, like a food coma."

"I've never known him to hold a scowl for this long before. Do you think his face will get stuck like that?"

"Oh man, I hope not. It's gotta be taking a lot of his energy to keep it up though."

"That's probably how he can manage to eat so much. Where does it even go? He's like a bean pole."

"I'm kinda worried, PIdge. If he keeps this up I just know he's gonna get sick. I'll rock, paper, scissors you for who has to go take that from him."

"No way, I'm not taking that chance. What we need is a replacement so he can keep up his anger munchies but not make himself sick off that ice cream."

"Oooh, yeah, that's a good idea. What'd you suggest?"

"Popcorn?"

"Alright, yeah, that's good. Good plan. But should we, like, ask him first or just start popping it and see if he comes around?"

"Definitely just start popping it. I've never known him to turn down popcorn. I'm not sure he'd answer us right now anyway. He kinda looks like he's in a weird... comatose state."

"Is it possible to even be in an angry coma?"

"I don't think it's all anger. I think half of it is embarrassment and disappointment and repressed feelings."

"I can hear you, you know." Lance says, turning his head to glare at his friends. He's sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest with a tub of good old rocky road resting on them. His words are slurred slightly by the spoon in his mouth.

Hunk and Pidge both jump, turning to stare at him, wide-eyed.

"Oh, uh, hey buddy, how you doing?" Hunk says, but the last of his question is drowned out by Pidge's loud and dramatic declaration.

"He liiiives!" They throw their hands up, fingers curling.

Lance continues to glare at them, spoon in his mouth.

When they don't get a reaction, Pidge sighs, hopping off the counter where they had been sitting and moving toward the living room of the apartment.

"How do you feel about popcorn, Lance?" Hunk asks from the kitchen, but Lance can already hear him rummaging through the pantry.

"Movie theater butter?"

"Is there any other kind?"

"I guess that's fine then..." He grumbles begrudgingly, pulling the spoon form his mouth and staring at the ice cream. He doesn't really want more, but it's right there, so he might as well...

"Oh no you don't." Pidge says, reaching out to snatch the tub from it's precarious perch on his knees. Lance makes a wordless, pitiful sound of protest, reaching out to grab it back. Pidge slaps his hands away and holds out their hand. "Spoon."

"Métetelo por el culo..." He mumbles as he reluctantly hands them the spoon.

Pidge snorts as they walk away. "I heard that."

"Doesn't mean you understand it!"

"Except I do."

"You took German in school!" He snaps, crossing his arms over his chest, shoulders rising to his ears.

Pidge waves the spoon over their shoulder as they near the kitchen. "I've picked up a few things after being friends with you for so long."

"Chingate..."

"Que the la pique un pollo." They reply smoothly, despite their terrible accent and choppy pronunciation.

Lance gaps at them as they put the ice cream back in the freezer. Hunk lets out a burst of surprised laughter, throwing his head back as he pulls the box of popcorn bags from the pantry. "Pidge!" He tries to sound chastising, but it doesn't quite work.

"You need to stop talking to Sophie!" Lance snaps.

Pidge tosses the spoon in the sink and grins at him. "No way, Sophie is the best. She teaches me things that are actually relevant."

"How is that relevant?!"

Pidge shrugs. "It was useful, wasn't it?"

Lance huffs, turning away from them both, staring at the blank TV instead. The couch in Pidge and Hunk's apartment is a corner couch that they got cheap from Hunk's parents. One edge is pressed against the wall while the other has it's back to the small area designated as the dining room, complete with a small table, before giving way to the bar counter that separates the dining room from the kitchen. Lance sits in the corner of the L-shaped couch, knees pulled up to his chest. He rests his crossed arms overtop them and puts his chin on his forearms.

Pidge plops down on one side of the couch, leaning their back against the arm and the back cushion and stretching their legs out along the length, one knee bent. They're staring at Lance, but he's pointedly refusing to look at them. A silence stretches between them.

"One popcorn bag or two?" Hunk asks.

"Two." Both Lance and Pidge say at the same time.

There's a hum from the kitchen. "Right."

The silence is back, and it's starting to get under his skin. Pidge hasn't even taken their phone out. They're just... staring at him. He knows they want to talk about what happened earlier at the park. He knows they both do. One moment they had been dancing, and the next Keith had stormed off and Lance was moping. Not even dancing could pull him out of it. Pidge had even tried putting on more Shakira and Hunk had tried Nikki Minaj. Lance had been uncharacteristically silent for the whole ride back to their apartment, and throughout the preparation of dinner. He knew he was just making it worse for himself. He had known that his friends would pick up on it and corner him later but... he couldn't quite help it.

When he needs to wallow, he needs to wallow.

And he knows the moment he's been dreading is here, but he refuses to cave first. Unfortunately, so does Pidge. They end up sitting like that for several long minutes while Lance tries not to visibly fidget. All the while listening to the microwave hum and beep in the background.

Then Hunk is there, plopping down on the other side of Lance and handing him a bowl of popcorn. He takes it gratefully, unfurling from his position to sit cross legged with the bowl on his lap. The crunch of popcorn, warm and salty, is exactly what he needed after all that ice cream. He chews loudly to fill the silence.

"So..." Hunk says slowly, conversationally. He props both feet up on the coffee table and settles his own bowl in his lap. "Wanna talk about it?"

Lance scowls down at the bowl in his lap. "No..."

Hunk leans over, nudging him with his own shoulder. "Come on, Lance..."

Lance lifts his chin, casually tossing back a few pieces of popcorn. "I'm sorry, Hunk. I can't hear you over the sound of complete and utter betrayal." With this, he shoots a nasty look at Pidge.

They roll their eyes and their head, rolling it back along the couch cushion. "Laaaance!" They groan.

"Hunk, did you hear something?" He says, turning away from Pidge but putting his hand to his ear and leaning toward them a fraction.

"Dude," Hunk says flatly, and there's probably a warning in there for him to cut his shit, but he ignores it.

"It must be a ghost, cause that is definitely the voice of someone who's dead to me."

"Laaaance!" Pidge groans again. He looks at them and meets their bright amber gaze. Their brow is knit in the middle, and their lips are scrunched up in such a way that they seem to find the words they're trying to say to be actually painful. "I'm... I'm sorry, okay?"

Lance continues to stare, but his eyes narrow.

Pidge waves a hand in the air aimlessly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I know Keith. I didn't think it would be this big of a deal. I still don't really get why it's such a big deal, but I should've told you sooner."

Lance nods, looking down into the bowl on his lap. "You should've."

"To be fair, though, I didn't realize the 'mullet-head Keith' you were complaining about was my childhood friend Keith."

Lance snorts, rolling his eyes. "How many Keiths do you think there are? And how many of them have mullets?" Lance waves at the back of his neck for emphasis.

Pidge shrugs. "I've never really thought of it as a mullet."

"Pidge, it's totally a mullet!"

"Yeah, okay, I can kind of see it now. But it suits him." Lance isn't about to agree with that, but he can't exactly deny it either. So he stays silent. "Anyway, I didn't really think about it. I just saw it as you being you and challenging a guy you barely knew but admired—"

"I don't admire him!"

"—To a dance contest at auditions. It's not exactly out of character for you. Hunk told me he was some guy you guys were in a class with last year that you were totally obsessed with—"

"Hunk!"

"You were, dude."

"Was not!"

"—But I didn't really connect him to my Keith until I saw his name on the sign ups for auditions."

"You should have told me then!"

Pidge shrugs again. "I didn't think it was a big deal. It was right before auditions, and I thought it would distract you. Hunk told me to wait until after auditions."

Lance whips his head around to look at his best friend of nearly eight years. "Hunk?" He gapes at him, and at least he has the decency to look abashed.

He busies himself by shuffling the popcorn in his bowl, but he won't meet Lance's eyes. "Look, we both know how you get. You would've been even more obsessed and trying to learn about his 'weaknesses' or something from Pidge, and you would've been so wrapped up in knowing that Pidge is friends with your 'enemy' that it might've... you know, distracted you from doing your best at auditions?"

Alright, so maybe Lance feels a little bad now. His friends were only looking out for him. And yeah, he has a tendency to get a little obsessive and a little distracted, and it might have affected his performance. Not that it mattered in the end anyway.

Lance sighs, reaching out to pat Hunk's arm. "Thanks, man." He says softly, giving Hunk a small smile.

He returns it. "We were only trying to look out for you, man."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why you didn't tell me after." He says pointedly, swinging his gaze back around to Pidge. They jumped a little at his sudden swing back to a sharp tone. He sees their face scrunch up defensively as they sat up straighter.

"I didn't think it mattered. It was over, you didn't get in, you were moping and upset that you hadn't made it and Keith had, and I didn't want to rub salt in that wound and make it worse."

"What about after Shiro said—"

Pidge throws their hands up in the air with an exasperated groan. "It all happened so fast! One day, you miss auditions. The next, Shiro suggests duoing with Keith. That night you mope around at our apartment. The next day we try to cheer you up with some street dancing. When exactly did I have time to bring it up and not send you back into another mope spiral?"

"Anytime before I found out in front of him would have been nice!"

"It's not my fault you freaked out when you found out."

"Pidge, you're supposed to be my friend!"

"I am! And as your friend, I have to admit, your reaction was hilarious."

"Pidge!"

"What's the big deal? You always embarrass yourself, and you always bounce back."

"Yeah, but— but this is different! This was Keith."

Pidge's expression changes then. They look like they've got a glimpse of gold, and Lance really doesn't like the look they're giving him. They tilt their chin down, looking up at Lance with a small smirk tugging the corner of their lips. "What's so special about Keith, Lance?"

Lance presses his lips together, eyes widening as he tries to keep his face neutral and fight down the heat that's rising up his neck. He knows it's a losing battle, so he scowls down at the bowl in his lap. "Nothing! He's the worst!" To avoid talking further, he shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

"Mhmm, sure he is. You know, this wouldn't be such a big deal if you just—"

"Pidge," Hunk cuts in, and when Lance glances up at him, he can see Hunk frowning at Pidge. Hunk is his hero.

They sigh and cross their arms over their chest, sinking further into the couch as they scowl at the coffee table. "Right, anyway, I'm... I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, okay? I didn't think it would affect you this much." Lance glances up at them, and they honestly look apologetic.

He feels his scowl fading, and he sighs, relieved. He hadn't realized how much tension had been in his body until he relaxes, sinking back against the couch. "Thanks, Pidge."

They relax, too, and then the corner of their lips twitch upward. "The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math."

Lance throws back his head and laughs, and Pidge's smirk widens. "Pidge! Do you really think that I'll forgive you just because you meme in your apology?" He asks, looking at them and unable to smother his grin.

Pidge shrugs, still smiling. "It was worth a shot. So...?"

"So?"

"Do you forgive me?"

Lance makes a show of humming in consideration, tapping his chin with a finger, and looking up at the ceiling. "Hmmm, I dunno..."

Pidge rolls their eyes, stretching out their leg to kick his thigh with their foot. "Lance, come on!"

He laughs, dropping his hand to pat their leg. "Yeah, yeah, I forgive you."

"Good." And the smile on their face is genuine.

Hunk sighs, tilting his head back against the couch cushion. "Thank god that's over. I hate it when you guys fight."

Lance snorts. "We weren't fighting."

Hunk shrugs, reaching for the TV remote. "Close enough."

Pidge nudges Lance's thigh with their toes. "Now that we're good, pass some of that popcorn."

Lance raises an eyebrow. "Why didn't you reach for it earlier?"

"And risk you biting my hand off? I don't think so."

Lance passes them his bowl, and they settle it on their stomach as Lance leans into Hunk, reaching for his bowl before shoving his face with more popcorn. Hunk's got the xbox controller in his hand and is pulling up Netflix. Several moments pass as they scroll through the options before he speaks.

"So...Now that that's over, wanna talk about what's got you in this mood?"

"I'm not in a mood." Lance grumbles, hunching his shoulders slightly as he leans against Hunk's arm. His protest sounds weak, even to him.

Pidge snorts, waving a couple pieces of popcorn around in the air. "Yeah, that's why you've been angry eating ever since we got back from the park."

Lance shoots them a glare, but doesn't say anything. He knows there's nothing he can say because they're right. Eating just makes him feel better, okay? And it's something he can put his energy into.

"This has to do with Keith, doesn't it?" Hunk prompts, he's idly scrolling through things on Netflix, but none of them are really paying attention. Lance knows he's not going to pick something until they've had this talk.

Lance sighs. "Yeah, it does." He admits, taking the popcorn bowl from Hunk's lap and sitting up straight again. He pulls his knees up, cradling the bowl between his knees and his chest. He doesn't look at either of his friends. "I wasn't... expecting to see him there. He blindsided me." He says it like Keith meant to do it. Like it's his fault, and he caught Lance off guard on purpose. Like it's his fault that Lance was so completely floored by seeing all those fucking soft expressions and smiles.

"What did he want?" Hunk asks.

Lance raises an eyebrow, glancing up at him. "He didn't tell you?"

Hunk shook his head. "Nah, we just got introduced and talked to him a bit about dancing and what we were doing and stuff."

"Then our song came on," Pidge says. "And we wanted to see if we still remembered it."

"And we did."

"Of course, we did."

"Up top!" Hunk leans over Lance, holding up a hand. Pidge sits up and leans forward to clap his hand with theirs. Hunk leans back into his original position, but Pidge shifts, scooting closer to Lance and turning to lean their back against his arm and shoulder.

"Then when we got back, Keith was gone and you were moping on the bench." Pidge finishes, shoving popcorn in their mouth and speaking around it. "So what happened?"

Lance groans, long, loud, and wordless. Hunk pats his arm. "Come on, buddy. The sooner you tell us the better."

"For all of us." Pidge adds.

Lance huffs in defeat. "Well, Mr. High and Mighty decides to show up and tell me about how Shiro wanted him to talk to me about dancing together for auditions." He tries to sound indifferent, offended, maybe even a little angry, but he can't help the grumpy defeat that's layering his voice.

"That's good, isn't it?" Hunk says, perking up. He looks between the two of them, smiling. "This gives you another chance to get to regionals. Right, Lance?"

Lance refuses to look at him, instead slouching a little more. He wonders if he can find a way to get the couch to absorb him. Just kinda disappear into it. It's a pretty comfortable couch. It's been his bed on many occasions. Surely a lifetime being stuck in a couch void wouldn't be too bad...

"Right, Lance?" Hunk repeats after a moment, but his smile has dropped and his tone has become wary.

He winces and curls a little in on himself, hunching over the popcorn bowl as he picks through it. He can feel the gazes of both his friends on him.

"He wanted to talk about duoing?" Hunk repeats.

"Mhmm..."

"Lance..." Pidge's voice is pitched low. They sit up straight, turning so they can reach out and grab Lance's face in both hands. Lance tries to jerk away, but their grip is surprisingly strong. They force him to meet their gaze. He tries to look casual. Casual and confident and totally not guilty or scared. Pidge searches his eyes for a moment before their own gaze narrows. "You said yes, didn't you?"

Oh no, that's their warning voice. Lance winces out of reflex. Looking anywhere but at Pidge's face, he bites his bottom lip.

"Lance..." Ugh, that's Hunk's warning voice! It isn't fair when they gang up on him like this! A small whimper escapes his lips.

"Did he offer to duo with you and you fucked up and told him no?" Pidge presses further, still not letting go of his face.

"Noooo..." Lance says slowly. "Not... exactly?"

Pidge's glare sharpens. "What happened?"

"He may not... have gotten the chance to... ask? At all?"

Hunk groans. "Lance, what did you do?"

"Did you piss him off and make him storm off?" Pidge is shouting now, scowling at