Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The office, for a mob boss, was one of the most important places he or she could be. With strong locks, sound proof walls, and important people in and out of it, the office was the lifeblood of any Mafia boss worth their salt. And Keith was worth his salt, sugar, and possibly also the pepper too.

So if there was one place on earth that Keith actually felt safe, secure, and most importantly productive , it was his office.  It had been his solace for years now, ever since he took over as Branch Head for this district.  It was where he went whenever he needed time to think, when he needed to get work done, when he needed to vent his frustrations.  The lock was good, the walls were soundproof as per regulation, and with a full picturesque window behind him, he could look out at the city, the nighttime lights dancing and flickering. It was his favorite place other than his apartment, and he felt like nothing would be able to take that comfort away from him.

That was, until they showed to to try and forge some kind of alliance with a “rival” Branch Head.

"You're insane if you think that anything good will come of this," Keith said, his hands still resting on the shiny mahogany surface of his desk from where he had slammed them a few minutes earlier.  "You come in here, distract me from my work, make a mess of my evening, then tell me the only way to solve ‘things’ is to form an alliance with him ?” Keith drew an offended breath. “ No, not a chance."  

“Err… don’t you think that maybe you could work something out with him?” one of the cowering gang members asked, raising a tentative hand.

Pointedly, Keith ignored him. Standing straight once more, the noirette raked a hand through his hair and used the other to tap a button on his receiver.  "Acxa, come and get these guys out of here."

"Yessir.  One moment." came the reply not even seconds later.

"But, sir, just hold on a mom-!"

"Hell, no!" Keith burst out, his voice raising once again.  "There's nothing you can do and nothing you can say to convince me that being friends with him after all this time will solve anything!"

The door to his office swung open, and Acxa silently walked in.  "These two, sir?"

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose and waved a hand in their general direction before turning to look out the window, at the glittering lights of the city he watched over.  "Yes, these two."  As if he would ever agree to that.  They'd been at odds, he and particular Mob Boss, for years.  You couldn't just fix a series of explosive and frustrating altercations with a sudden alliance.

Acxa put a hand on the shoulders of both of the men before rotating them to face her and pleasantly saying, "Follow me, gentlemen, I'll show you the door."

"If you would just listen to what we have to say-!"

The woman kept pushing them out of the the room, and it wasn't long before the door to his office was once again shut tight.

Keith let out a breath and yanked his gloves off, a habit of his when he was particularly irked.  It was getting late, and he still had mounds of paperwork to finish. As he undid the top two buttons of his shirt, the noirette turned to sink into the plush leather of his desk chair.

Honestly, what could those two idiots have been thinking?  No, that wasn't quite it.  It wasn't just the two he’d dealt with just now, they weren’t the first, and they definitely weren’t the source of this idea. They wouldn't have been able to come up with something like that on their own, they weren't smart enough for that.  This was the work of someone higher up, someone from the Main Branch. It was the only way.

Keith growled low in his throat before shoving the file they had left behind off of his desk.  As it crashed to the ground, papers as several photographs fluttered out, making a mess of his floor. Staring at them in frustration, Keith glared at one particular photo of a brunet in a suit, smirking at the camera with a gleam in his cerulean eyes. Fuck. That.

He wanted nothing to do with Lance McClain and he probably never would.

But there was no use in getting so angry over it.  Keith took a few cleansing breaths and stared down at the back of his hands. His soulmarks caught his eye and he stared at them for a few moments. Ah, that's right.  Sometimes he even forgot that they were there.  It wasn't like they were ever of any use. Soulmates...soulenemies?  I don't have time for that load of crap.  I don't need anybody, least of all a soulmate .

But there were some things you could only ignore for so long.

"You did what? "

The man before Lance cowered a little.

"Erm, we thought that maybe, you know, it would cut down on the out and out violence in the streets if maybe... we were too...." His voice died away pathetically.

Lance's eyes darkened and his hands clenched around the surface of his glass. "What have I told you about talking to anyone who's associated with him!?" The usually laid back man was leaning over the table, his thundering aura darkening the smokey room. Even the other officials at his table leaned away from him instinctively, knowing how touchy this particular subject was.

"Get out of my sight, and tell whoever sent you that any idea of an alliance is off the table. I'm not putting up with him, ever."

Pushing his way past the other men sitting with him, the Branch Head let out a disgusted sound and pushed his way out of the club, needing some fresh air. Not him, anyone but him. It wasn't that Lance didn't want there to be peace, but he had his dignity, and there was nothing on earth that would ever let him get close to Keith Kogane.

As the doors opened, a bouncer pulling them out of his way before he could slam into them thoughtlessly, the brunet drew in an angry lungful of evening air and walked away from the glowing exit of the club, choosing to lean against the wall a few yards down. Staring up at the skyline, the man took another, slightly less irritable, breath and let his head fall back against the brickwork.

"Complete bullshit," he muttered under his breath, only slightly more tired than annoyed. And I was having such a good evening too... Tiredly, his eyes fell on a certain high rise that lay in his sights, his building. Frustrated at the world, Lance let out a puff of air. It wasn't his fault he couldn't stand Keith, he'd never been able to stand the man. What with his stuck up, standoffish attitude and his habit of always trying to get ahead of Lance in everything and succeeding. The whole situation pissed him off.

All he wanted was to stand out a bit, was that too much to ask? Apparently, it was, if this was any indication. Slowly, the brunet lifted his right wrist, framing the side of the office building with it. Well, look on the bright side Lance, at least you'll hate your soulmate even more.

Yeah, small comfort indeed.

Keith had finally settled his mind down and dismissed his anger enough to start working.  He'd gotten through maybe, maybe , three pages before there was a triple beep from his receiver.  "Oh, for fuck's sake, what now?" Jamming his finger on the button, the noirette ground out, "What, Acxa?"

" The men have left, but there is a call for you on line 3.  I believe it's your brother. "

"Shiro?"  What could he want this late at night?

Taking his finger off the button, Keith took a moment to sigh before grabbing the phone and tapping into line 3.  "What's the matter, Shiro, talk to me.”

" Keith?  Oh thank God you’re up and still at the office.  We, uh...we have a slight... problem ."

The noirette ground his teeth together. "What kind of problem?"

"Okay, look,” Shiro began, and immediately Keith felt a wave of aversion for what was to come. His brother only ever used that tone when talking about one thing. “I know it's not your favorite thing in the world, but I think you should just get down here.  I can't handle these guys on my own."

Resigned to his fate, Keith was already standing back up.  Resting the earpiece between his shoulder and ear, he yanked his gloves back on and grabbed his suit coat.  "Where are you?" he asked, despite already sort of knowing the answer

"At... his club. Some of our guys and his guys are...not getting along.  I think it would be best if you handled it. They aren’t listening to anyone else."

"Alright, alright," the noirette grumbled.  "I'll be right there." After just barely resisting the urge to slam the phone back into its spot, Keith shoved his arms through the coat sleeves and stalked to the doors of his office.  "Acxa! Call my car. I need to go."

The secretary looked at him over the frames of her glasses.  "Where to?" When Keith just gave her a peeved and impatient look, she nodded and said, "Ah, yes.  It will be ready when you get downstairs."

Of all the fucking things that Keith would have to deal with, of course it would be this.

Sometimes, the universe hated him.

Chapter Text

Altea, being a city filled with your usual rabblerosers, low life, criminals, independant gangs and a mob to top it all off, was hardly ever quiet, especially at night. If there ever came a day when something didn’t happen, no one would know what to do. Violence and anger were kind of par the course.

However, as Lance listened to the sounds of discord coming from inside the club, he sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, wondering why, of all places, did most of the noise have to come from his territory.

There was a loud crash, and he could hear someone screaming in rage.   Oh boy, of course things would go crazy the moment I step out. Turning towards the exit, deciding that he might as well do something about the potential damage the club was about to incur, Lance was stopped as someone else made their presence known.

Raising his eyebrows as Pidge, the owner of the club, came crashing through the door, Lance leaned back on his heels and watched in amusement.  Clearly irate, the small blond stomped over to Lance, shoved a finger in his direction and yelled, "HoW MANy TImeS Do I HAve TO tELl YoU TO keep YOUr peOPLe UNdER ContROL!?"

Rolling his eyes at Pidge’s outburst, Lance calmly drawled in response, "Well it's not my fault people are idiots.” Then, since he was genuinely concerned, he asked, “What's going on?"

Brushing their hair out of their eyes, the small blond exclaimed, "I turn my back on these two for five seconds, and the next thing I know they're trying to break beer bottles over each others heads and everyone else is joining in!" Crossing their arms, Pidge glared at Lance from under their almost comically large glasses and muttered, "It's your fault that this place is a battleground, so go in there and fix it ."

There was just something about this tiny human ordering him around that made Lance want to burst into laughter.  But knowing that that would probably cause more harm than good, the brunet shrugged and turned back towards the club.  Unfortunately, just as he was about to start forward, he saw an all too familiar black car come screeching around the corner. "Oh fuck no," the man muttered under his breath, already feeling his heart start to pick up the pace. "What the hell is he doing here?!"

Turning as well, knowing all too well the look that Lance currently had in his eyes, Pidge muttered, "Well, fuck me sideways..."

Across the street from the club, Keith shoved the car into park.  Just as he opened his door and stepped out, the senior mob boss heard a familiar voice call to him.  "Keith! Thank god !"  Looking over, the noirette tried to keep his annoyance in check as his older brother came running up to him, pausing for only a moment as he glanced to either side of the road.  "I've tried my best to stop them, but they're idiots and won't listen to me, so please do something."

Keith let out a breath.  His eyes had already caught on the form of Lance McClain, the brunet's face screwed up into an expression that was something akin to a mixture of anger and annoyance.   Yeah, like I was totally okay with this, either.  But instead of getting into that, Keith took a few steps forward, making his way towards the owner of the club instead of Lance himself.

"What's going on?" he called out as soon as he was within reach of the small blond that currently wore the expression of someone who was about to have an aneurysm, already dreading what was sure to be a riveting tale.  

Oh hell no, the brunet’s mind growled out.  Lance wasn't in a good enough mood to put up with Keith's bullshit, and he certainly wasn't about to let the man disrespect him like this. Getting in his face, Lance leaned over Keith and said, "It appears that one of your men decided to go throwing bottles at mine."

"Okay, hold on," Pidge attempted, getting in between the two as best they could. "I never said who started it Lance, you have no-"

" Excuse me!?"  Keith turned his attention to the annoyance that was Lance and grabbed onto the front of his shirt, wrinkling the edges, before throwing the man backwards.  "I wasn't talking to you , so beat it!"  And maybe that wasn’t the best way to handle things, but when the noirette had had frustration after frustration dropped on top of him, his patience could get a tad... thin .

Hardly giving the other man an inch, Lance pushed Pidge out of the way before shoving Keith back, his eyes blazing.  A sound of offense whipped at him from Pidge’s position, but he chose to ignore it. "Oh yeah? Well guess what asshole, I was talking to you! This is my territory, and you'll damn well treat me with respect for once in your goddamn life."

Keith laughed, but it was completely devoid of mirth.  "Oh, sure !  Like I would ever give you any respect!"  The noirette lifted a hand and pointed a finger at the brunet, jabbing him hard in the chest.  "I give respect to those who give it to me in return, and from what I can remember, the most you have given me is annoyance and frustration!   You obviously don't deserve anything from me!"

"Keith...please..." Shiro mumbled from behind him, his hands held up as he looked at Pidge in apology. “Can we not start this argument again-”

"And for the record, this section of territory isn't yours just yet!  Technically, it still belongs to Matt, who has actually earned my respect!"

"You know this has been my club for a year , asshat," Lance growled, hating how easily Keith could dismiss him, treat him like a bug under his boot, and then come in here and expect the brunet to respect him. "Don't give me that bullshit about respect, you haven't ever deserved respect. They should never have put you in charge! You're not a leader; you're a complete bastard."

"ChiLDREN!" Pidge yelled, but Lance ignored them, his eyes burning into Keith's. He hated this man, hated how damn inferior he could make Lance feel just by existing. It wasn't fucking fair. He was a far better leader than Keith would ever be, and if he had to listen to much more lip from this person, Lance was ready to say to hell with the bar fight entirely. Because this was far more pressing.

"Get out of here, Mullet, and you'll be lucky if I don't send your men back in body bags," Lance spat.

Keith scoffed and yanked at the edges of his gloves, pulling them back into position before turning on his heel.  "I'll deal with my men on my own. I don't need any help from someone who can't even start to keep his men in line."  Glancing over his shoulder, he sneered back at Lance and said, with finality, "Better learn some manners, kid, or you'll get yourself into all sorts of trouble."

As the noirette ran a hand through his hair, he stomped his way into the club, where sounds of glass shattering and bodies thumping against objects could be heard.  Eyes darting around, it didn't take him long to identify who was fighting.

"Griffin!  Jameson! The hell are you doing?"

Almost immediately, the fighting stopped and the two looked up in horror.   Yeah, that's right, you had better shape up.  They stepped out of the fray and were in front of their Boss in a matter of seconds.

Giving them both a snarl thinly veiled as a smile, Keith said, “I believe I need to have some words with you two…”

It was as if Lance was rooted to the spot, his feet becoming melded into the concrete of the sidewalk.  He felt an overwhelming knot of frustration and bitter anger pulse through him to settle in his gut as he watched Keith walk into the club. Even as the sounds of fighting quieted down, the brunet just stood there, unable to make himself move. God, he was so done with Keith's shit. The man treated him like dirt, like he was nothing when Lance was just as competent as he was in almost everything. He hated it.

As his head began to throb, Lance spun on his heels and marched away from the club, too disgusted by the situation to bother to go inside and posture at the infuriating noirette any longer. -wish I could slam his head through a window, maybe knock some decency into that skull of his-

Frustrated, Lance kicked an empty trash can and winced as his boot clanged loudly against the  metal.

It wasn't that he wanted Keith to notice him or just treat him like he wasn't somehow sub-human scum, but maybe once wouldn't be bad. Just a hello without things turning into a fucking shit-show? But no, that was impossible because Keith was so far up his own ass, he was seeing out his mouth.  And Lance was too proud to admit that maybe it was even slightly, partly his fault.  

Anyone else in the goddamn town, Lance could get along with them as if he’d known them since they were in diapers. Hell, even people on Keith's side weren't that bad. Sure, he was naturally a bit suspicious of them, that’s just how these things went, but he could smile and laugh and even drink with them, no problem. But Keith? Fucking Keith Kogane?

No, no he couldn't put up with him. Not for one second.

Sometime later, Keith’s voice cut through the near silence of the club, everyone there hanging onto every word he spoke.  "Now go the fuck home, and stop disgracing your superiors!"

"Yessir..."  The chorus of voices was filled with not just his own men, but those of Lance's group as well.  Apparently, their brave leader had taken off, leaving Keith to deal with the aftermath.  As the men shuffled off in their respective directions, Keith sighed and raked a hand through his hair again.

"Thanks for dealing with them, Keith," a short blond said as they walked up to him.   Pidge, huh?  Matt's younger sibling.  "I know it wasn't easy.  And..." They paused, shuffling their feet a bit.  "Sorry...for Lance. I don't know why he's always like that.  You've saved his ass more times than I can count."

Keith shrugged.  "Don't worry about it.  Not like I would have been able to just leave them there.   Someone had to deal with it."

Pidge looked off to the side.  "I know, I know. But still."

"Anyway," Keith mumbled as he looked around, the night going back to as peaceful as it could be in the middle of the city.  "Don't worry about the damages; I'll pay for them. Just give the bill to Shiro, and I'll make sure it's all settled. However," he grunted, looking longingly at his car.  "I do need to find Lance. His men have hospital bills that will need to be paid, and since my men are the ones who started it, idiotic bastards , I want to talk over paying the bills with him.  Do you know where he went?"

Pidge's face fell, and their eyes grew a little darker.  "Uh, that....that way, although, are you sure you want to do that?  I can just as easily figure out how much it would be..."

Keith followed the trajectory of their finger and shook his head.  "Nope, gotta do this myself. As much as it pains me-" He winced and drew in a breath, "I need to try and be... civil with the guy.  Now that I'm a bit calmer, I'm at least gonna try and get shit figured out."

"Okay..." Pidge said, frowning. “Just… don’t break each other, alright?”

Well, he could certainly try.

A block or two away, Lance slumped against a park bench and stared up at the cloudy sky. Fuck, I just left Keith there to take care of it. Now they're going to think I'm weak. Just fucking great... Well, maybe he was. If Keith couldn't see anything worthwhile in him, someone who was supposed to be his equal, then maybe he really was worthless at this whole thing. Maybe they should have made someone else the leader of his Branch…

Gritting his teeth, Lance held up his arm once more and stared at that stupid mark he usually kept beneath his sleeves. If there had been two of them, he'd have easily picked one of them out as referring to Keith, but as it was... It just left him feeling a little worse. Because even his soulmate despised him. Nope, stop thinking like that, you're being stupid, don't think about it.

Sitting up, Lance drew a breath and glanced back down the road. At some point, he should go back to the club, just to tell his men to for the love of god not hit people over the head with glass bottles no matter how much they deserved it , but he felt like by this time, it was a rather moot point. After all, now he'd just look like a coward, slinking back in after all the damage had been cleaned up.

If only Keith hadn't shown up and fucked him over like that.

But that was hardly fair.  Lance knew that. He knew that he wouldn’t have been able to reign in Keith’s men on his own, unless he wanted to make the altercation even worse.

Maybe, if he could just stop exploding every time he saw Keith, then things would be better. But it wasn't Lance's fault! He avoided the man! It was Keith who seemed to seek him out, just to rub his face in the fact that he was the favored Branch and therefore was considered the better leader. Lance might have turned his own group around from the brink of being completely absorbed by the other branches into something respectable, but that didn't mean that anyone gave a shit about him.

But maybe, if he could just get himself under control, he'd be able to at least talk to Keith calmly. Hell, maybe he'd look like the better person if he did that....

It didn't take Keith long to find the brunet.  In actuality, he hadn't even gone that far, maybe a block over.  From Keith's vantage point, Lance wouldn't be able to see him just yet, so he observed the man that was Lance McClain.

It wasn't that Keith hated him, per se.  They'd just never gotten along, no matter how much Keith had tried to help the brunet in the past.  And he really had tried, but what’s one to do when one’s help is outright refused?

Keith kind of felt like Lance was too in over his head, too reckless sometimes, and it was annoying that Keith had to be the one to fix his mistakes, just because the noirette was higher ranking.  But he didn't... hate him.  No, in fact, Keith kind of admired the man.  He always seemed to be able to get right into the thick of things and make people laugh, make them less nervous, while Keith was stuck being the overlord who couldn't get his men to actually like him for shit.

He was jealous.  He wished he was able to make friends .

Sighing, Keith watched as Lance lifted his arm to stare at his wrist.  The shorter man was too far away to really see what it was, but he guessed that Lance was looking at his soulmark.  It wasn’t that strange of a thing to see. These marks were a part of them, part of their souls and their futures, so it made sense that people would sit and stare at them sometimes.   Huh, I wonder if he's met his soulmate yet…

Shaking his head, Keith stepped forward out of the alley.  He was here to talk to the man, not watch him from the alley like a creep.  Besides, soulmates weren’t really a topic he enjoyed thinking about.

"Yo."

Oh, yeah, Keith... great idea.  Best greeting ever…

Almost instantly, a flame of hatred licked up Lance’s throat at the voice.  However, as he turned his head, he felt the usual anger sputter and then peter out as he noted Keith's subdued attitude. Still unable to stop himself from getting defensive, Lance let his arm fall back to his lap and asked, in a gruff tone, "Sup?" Oh yeah, like that's the way to get him to treat you like an equal. How very fucking smart of you. Shifting his sleeve back down over his arm, Lance furrowed his brows at Keith as the man drew up beside him.

The noirette looked as crisp as ever, like he hadn't just dealt with a bar fight. With that impeccably tailored suit and that neatly slicked back hair and those cesious eyes that saw right through you whether you liked it or not, Keith was the very picture of a mob boss.  It made Lance's own suit feel cheap, and his mussed hair feel knotted and unsightly. He just has to exist, and I feel like I'm not good enough.

Keith blew out a deep breath and flopped down onto the bench next to the brunet, sinking low against the wooden slats to sprawl his legs forward.  Throwing his elbows over the back of the bench, he stared up at the starless sky. The light pollution was too much to see them, even in the dead of night.  When was the last time he’d actually seen the night sky? Had to be at least ten years now, not since he left that house and tried to make it on his own.

Yeah, great plan that was.

"Your men are on their way home.  They'll be heading to the hospital to check for any lingering injuries in the morning," Keith informed the brunet, grunting as he mussed his hair up, getting his bangs to fall forward onto his forehead.  He wished getting rid of his thoughts was as easy as getting rid of his mob boss persona, despite that not being particularly easy either. "All the damages are paid for, so don't worry about it."

Of course he'd do that, just like always, cleaning up my messes. Bitterly more than anything, Lance muttered, "Yeah, thanks." He sounded like an ungrateful asshole, but it was too late to walk back the words now, so he just stared out of the corner of his eye at the senior Branch Head.

This... was the first time in a long while that they had shared space without fighting tooth and nail. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Lance found the experience to be less satisfying than he'd initially hoped. At the end of the day, they'd still be enemies, and Keith would always be one step ahead of him.  As usual, the thought that of course he’s a step ahead of me, he’s been in this business his entire life, I was just thrown into it never crossed his mind.

Clenching his fists in his lap, Lance turned to look at Keith and said, "Y'know, it's my Club; I can pay for the shit on my own. You don't have to bail me out." Again, he sounded aggressive, but he was sincerely trying to be more even-keeled for once.  Regrettably, he didn’t think he had succeeded.

Keith looked over at Lance and saw frustration in the man's cerulean eyes.  "I know." Those eyes suddenly went from frustrated to shocked and Keith waved his hand, dismissing the man’s surprise.  "My men started it, so technically, it was my responsibility to fix what they broke. The money you have, you'll need for other things.  That's part of being 'the boss'" he airquoted the words before snorting and continuing, "So lemme take care of this one."

Taken aback by Keith's blunt honesty, Lance sat up and stared at the man, his brows furrowed distrustfully. The words I don't need your help were at the tip of his tongue, but after a moment of wrestling with them, he let it go. Keith wasn't fighting him, or calling him dirt, and Lance hadn't snapped yet. So... Maybe he could just let it go.

"Thanks," he said again, his voice stilted, but at least decently polite. "It probably wasn't their fault, my guys are territorial." Why he was arguing with Keith, Lance didn't know, it was sort of just instinctive at this point.

A rather violent snort escaped Keith's nose before a loud peal of laughter ripped from his chest.  Why he found that statement so funny, he didn't know.

"No, no, no!  Don't take the blame for this.  Fights over territory are normal; it’s what we do! " Keith leaned his head back farther and laughed again.  "No, Lance, it wasn't the fault of your men, at all.  They were fighting back against Griffin for saying something nasty about Pidge.  And Jameson is just a goddamn idiot who jumps at any chance to fight, usually whenever Griffin jumps in.  Nah. It was all my men. Your guys had every right to try and get them outta there."

Keith took a few deep breaths, the laughter fading to give him a rather satisfied sting in his stomach.  Almost instantly, though, another feeling caught his attention. He frowned slightly, because the back of his hand was starting to itch. Keith attempted to scratch through the leather glove, but that wasn't working.  Yanking the damn thing off completely, he scratched at his soulmark. Weird, doesn't usually itch like that.  He flicked his gaze up to Lance and smiled lightly at him.  For some reason, he felt like his mood had shifted immensely.  "Get the estimates for the hospital bills for your men to me by tomorrow night, and I'll take care of those, too."

Distantly, Lance knew that Keith had said something, but his brain had stopped working. Everything had sort of ground to a halt as his eyes became irrevocably fixated on Keith's hand and the familiar mark that decorated it.

Familiar.

Familiar.

Lance did his best not to choke.

Keith asked him something else, something like, Did you hear me? and all Lance could do was dumbly nod his head as his eyes slowly traveled up to Keith's face. The man's brows were furrowed, and his blue-grey eyes dully reflected the streetlights as he asked, in a voice that Lance could finally make out, "Lance?"

"I'll send them," he muttered, before jerking to his feet suddenly and announcing, "Actually, I've got something, thanks for talking, it was nice, bye." Spinning quickly, the brunet walked away, his hand already reaching for his sleeve to pull it up. Keith called something after him but the blood was rushing in Lance's ears too loudly to hear a damn thing because he was staring at Keith's soulmark.

Except, it was his soulmark. His only soulmark.

No, no fuck no, fuck fuck fuck- NO Shoving his sleeve down, Lance ducked into the nearest alley and sped up, his heart racing faster than his feet. Because while he was perfectly fine with surviving life with Keith Kogane as his enemy, he didn't want that same person to be his soulmate instead.

Blinking, Keith could almost see the trial of dust Lance had kicked up in his hasty retreat.  "What the fuck...?" Confusion penetrated his mind. He'd been entirely civil to the man, but it was like it hadn't done a thing.  Lance was already gone, while Keith stood frozen to the bench. He looked down at his hand. It didn't itch anymore, so he pulled his glove back on.   That was...weird...it was like my soulmark spooked him or something.  

Keith's brow knitted together as he stared at his hands.  Maybe he was shocked that Keith actually had a soulmate?  To be honest, Keith was surprised he himself had one.  It couldn't see himself existing with another person so closely.

Sighing, the noirette stood up and turned in the opposite direction that Lance had gone in.  He had the urge to chase after the man, but he was sure that the brunet was probably long gone, and, given his state of unrest when he left, Keith would probably just make it worse.  So instead, he made his way back to the club, back to his car. He did need to return to the office to do even more paperwork after all.  Maybe he could ask Lance about it at the  next Branch meeting. It was in a few days, and all the Branch Heads would there, as well as the Patriarch.

That’s what he would do… Letting the matter slip his mind, Keith shrugged and kept walking.

After a while, Lance's energy petered out, and he ended up at the mouth of an alley at the edge of his territory, breathing heavily and trying to not think about the present and also think about it very hard simultaneously. Did I imagine that? No, he'd definitely seen Keith's soulmark,  but it had been more than that. He'd just known that it was the same. There wasn't any sort of wiggle room on these things.

Soulmates... the whole concept had always been one of superstition that everyone just accepted and got on with. Not everyone met their soulmate, not everyone cared. Technically, you could wander the world looking for this person you were supposed to belong with, and there were plenty of ways you could do that what with the internet and everything, but it was all rather variable. Because everyone had two marks, one for their soulmate, and one for their worst enemy, and technically, there wasn't a good way to tell them apart.

So your chances of finding one or the other were supposedly equal in their probability, or improbability…

Lance had just sort of assumed that he'd never bother to look for his because, well, he'd hate them anyway.

And he did, he really did, but fuck, why Keith of all goddamn people?

Dragging a hand through his hair, breathing in deeply before exhaling in a rush, the brunet let out a soft groan. This made things way too complicated. He could handle being treated like shit by Keith, he didn't have to like it but he could handle it. But this? No, he couldn't even contemplate what this was supposed to mean.

Does he already know? No, there was no way. Keith would be just as horrified as Lance was right now, if not more so. What am I supposed to do, tell him? He barked out a laugh. Oh yeah, like that'd go over well... I don't even want to do anything about it! Yeah, that was it, Lance decided, clenching his jaw. He just... wouldn't tell Keith. They were enemies, it wasn't like he'd have to do much hiding. And then things could just stay normal and not worse than they already were.

In his pocket, Lance's phone rang, and he reached for it numbly, his brain still trying to convince his body to chill out, because it was going to be okay. "Hey?"

"Lance, where are you, I swear- You told me to be there in your office at eleven!" At the sound of Allura's irritated voice, Lance managed a tired smile. It's not even that big a deal; people find their soulmates every day and no one freaks out, it'll be fine.

"Sorry, I'll be there in a moment. I just got caught up in some stuff." Yeah, things would be fine.

At least, he could hope.

Turning around, Lance headed back to his offices, his mind made up.

Chapter Text

..

"So before you leave, I need you to sign this here."

"Uh-huh."

"Initial here."

"Yep."

"And tell me what's on your mind."

"Sure, yeah- Wait, what?"  Keith blinked at the sudden change in orders and flicked his eyes up off the document to look at Acxa blankly.
Sighing, the blue haired women shoved her glasses up her nose and planted her hands on her hips.  "You've been in and out of focus, mumbling to yourself, and running into things for the past three days."  When Keith only blinked at her, confusion wrote on his features, Acxa flicked him in the forehead. "Focus, Keith!"

"I am!  I don't know what you're talking about!" he fired back, rubbing at the spot where her nail had caught on his skin.  "I promise you, there’s nothing on my mind!"

The woman scoffed and threw up her hands in surrender.  "Fine, fine! Don't tell me what happened when you ran off in a hurry to the club the other day."  Acxa crossed her arms. "I don't care if you fumble about in the office, but this meeting is important .  You know that.  Don't fuck it up for us.  They need to get the approval for the territory exchange."

"I know, I know."  And that was true, he did know.  But Keith's mind had been all sorts of wacky since Lance had ditched him the other night.  What was worse, he was kind of...hurt over the whole thing. He was loathe to admit it, but yes, it hurt to have someone just bail on you, even if you've never gotten along with them.  He sighed and initialed the papers Acxa had thrust before him.

It wasn't that he wanted to spend more time with the brunet, although it probably wouldn't hurt.  With this territory exchange, they'd have to work closely together to make sure it worked out, since it was territory that was directly between theirs.  They needed to be civil towards each other, if only until the exchange was finished. Then they could go about their own business and never have to talk to each other again.

"Your car is all set," Acxa mentioned as she picked up the file and turned her back, her voice pulling Keith out of his thoughts.  "I know it's not going to be easy, but if anyone can get the deal made, its you."

The noirette smiled at his secretary.  He honestly had no idea what he'd do if Acxa wasn't working for him.  At this point, it was more like she took care of him. She was the one that made sure he was fed and clothed, after all.  Keith might have been one of the most influential mob bosses in the area, but he was far too scatterbrained to really pay attention to his own wellbeing.  He had too much on his mind 24/7, too many things to do to worry about his own health.

Which is why she was there, to pick up the bits he forgot.

"Thanks, Acxa."

"Yeah, yeah, now get going.  You don't want to be late.”

Mob meetings were always tense, to say the least.

It wasn't that all of the branches fought, everyone more or less got along because, well, they were in charge, and someone had to set a good example. But it was never very much fun. Because between meetings, things always happened, and you had to deal with those things, and no one wants to deal with things.

Especially not Lance, who was tugging at his tie and mumbling something about this one stupid bakery while he was being driven to one such family meeting.

"Lance, would you stop fidgeting?  You're very distracting."

Allura squeezed the steering wheel tightly as they came to a red light, drawing Lance’s eyes for a moment before he went back to staring out the window. "If you're nervous, just talk about it."

"I'm not nervous," Lance insisted, finally letting go of his tie.

Scoffing, Allura hit the gas a little too hard before easing up and settling into a slower pace.  "I'm sure that you aren't,” she said, in a mildly condescending tone. “But you appear to be."

Leaning back in the seat, Lance waved a hand and said, "Me? Nervous? C'mon Allura, this isn't my first time at the rodeo. I know what I'm doing." A thought flashed through his mind and he added, "Erm, but y'know, just wondering, is uh- Is Keith gonna be there?"

"Well, why wouldn't he?  He's a Branch Leader just like you.  Plus, this meeting has to do with both of your territories, so again, why wouldn't he?"  As soon as the full sentence was out of her mouth, the woman pursed her lips, clearly regretting saying so much.

“Wait what?!" Shooting upright, Lance leaned into the front seat to demand, "What's wrong with my territory; my people need every inch of it. I swear, if that shortass tries to take any of it, I'm going to kill him! I'm so sick of him acting like he needs all that space, he's got half the people I do!"

Well aware that he was ranting but not particularly caring, Lance growled under his breath and muttered, "I swear, if this is some sort of fair trade for the fact that he paid for the damage to the club- Jesus, it probably is, isn't it! I knew I shouldn't have trusted him! Out of the kindness of his heart, my ass. There's not enough room in him for a heart; his ego crushed it!"

"Woah, woah, woah!  Lance, that's not what this is!"  Allura held out a hand and grabbed onto the brunet's shoulder.  “Please, calm down."

"And you know because?" Lance demanded, knowing he was being a suspicious bastard but not giving a damn because getting frustrated was easier. "Keith is always like this, Allura; I know him!"

"Yes well, I know what this is about because I read the damn file, Lance!" the woman blurted.  "Something you obviously haven't done yet!" Taking a breath, Allura attempted to calm herself.  Nothing good would come of yelling at him.

"Lance, listen to me, this meeting is to decide what to do with the fact that your influence is growing."  When Lance only gave her a raised eyebrow, the white haired woman rolled her eyes. "They want to fix the sizes of territory!  That's what this meeting is for, to decide where it should come from and who it should be given too. If anything , your territory will grow!"

Lance opened his mouth to fire back another tirade about Keith, but it died in his throat at her words. Huffing, he sat back down in his seat and glared into the rear-view mirror, hoping that Allura could see how irritated he was. "Yeah, well then he's not going to like it, which means more fighting." And it meant he actually had to talk to the man, which wasn't exactly the most exciting of prospects. "Keith hates me."

"Yes yes, and you hate him," Allura agreed dismissively, clearly frustrated with his belligerence.

Screwing up his face, Lance turned away and stared out the window like a petulant child. He didn't hate Keith. He just severely disliked him, but he had good reason to! There was so much history there, of put downs and dismissals and just straight up passive aggressive bullshit that Lance couldn't ignore.  So even if he did hate the man, it wasn't unjustified. And to have to go to him like this and basically ask for help was demeaning.

"I don't need his help with my territory," Lance muttered, fighting against the inevitable. "We've been making do just fine. Sure it's a little tight, and it can get pretty brutal with everyone elbow to elbow, but we survive. I don't want to talk to Keith."

"Well, too bad.  You're going to have to," the woman grumbled, pulling into the parking garage that would lead up to the Main Branch's Headquarters.  "The Patriarch is going to be here, and you know how he is about making sure everyone gets along, at least at his meetings." Allura pulled into a spot and shut the car off.  Turning in her seat, the white haired woman leveled Lance with a serious look. "Listen, just be civil for a few hours, and then you can go back to tearing each other's throats out.  It can't be that difficult."

Dropping his half-pout for a somber expression, Lance exhaled softly and caved. "Yeah, alright. I'll do what I can." It would be that difficult; he knew it for a fact, but he'd do it. Because if the head of the family was there, then petty disputes would only get them both in trouble. Straightening his tie once more as Allura got out and opened his door, Lance stepped out of the car and squared his shoulders.

"Thank you," Allura said, sounding partially relieved.

Grimacing, Lance muttered back, "Yeah, thank me after this is all over."

"So, as you can see, the western half of the bridge has adequate protection and should be finished with it's remodel by the end of the month."

You wouldn't have known it, but Keith hadn't heard a single word the man had said.

Sipping at his champagne, really, champagne?  What he wouldn't give for some scotch, the noirette nodded again, placating the obnoxious Branch Leader that had latched onto him the moment he had walked in the doors.  This was why Keith hated these things. He didn't like these people, and being forced to socialize with them?  Very low on his list of current priorities.

"So now that we're done discussing that, how would you like--"

"I am so sorry, sir, but Keith is needed elsewhere at the moment."

Both turning at the sound of the voice, the Branch Head made an irritated sound while Keith breathed a sigh of relief.   Shiro, thank god.  "Thank you so much for this riveting discussion, Thomason, but," Keith shrugged and flashed a grin, "Duty calls."  He turned quickly and grabbed onto Shiro's arm. "Quickly," he hissed, "Before someone else grabs me." Shiro chuckled.

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

They made their way to a secluded corner of the party and Keith slumped against the wall.  "Thank god that's over. When is this damn thing going to actually get started?" He turned cesious eyes up to his brother and bodyguard, who only shrugged.

"Whenever the guest of honor appears, I suppose."

Just as the words left Shiro’s mouth, across the large room from where Keith was standing, there was an influx of sound that caught the noirette’s attention.  Only seconds later, Lance pushed through the doors of the meeting hall with all his usual, easy charm. Sophisticated smile already high on his face, the young mobster called out greetings to the men and women around him, taking to his element like a fish to water.

If there was one thing that Lance was good at, it was being social, and so a place like this, despite the caliber of the people in attendance, was in his arena.

"Thomason! Hey, I hope the bridge project is working out alright."

"McClain, the baker's union is still on strike."

"Alright, Anderson, no need to get your pants in a twist, I'll make sure they start work again within the week~"

This is what meetings had been like since he'd started actually heading the branch, with all those connections he'd already made lending him more friends that he knew what to do with. To be honest, Lance was glad people were willing to put up with him, he'd been worried that his age would make everyone more hostile to him than needed.

Allura stepped in beside him, and with her usual thousand yard stare managed to push back some of the less important people who rushed to get in a word with Lance. "Alright, he's got places to be, you can talk to him later."

Lance spread his arms and cast one of the women that had been trying to get a word in with him a smirk. "Don't worry, there's plenty of me to go around."

His words were met with the simple clearing of a throat, a sound that Lance knew better than anything else. Instantly his head was swiveling and his spine was stiffening as his eyes fell on the one person he really didn't want to deal with.

Keith easily pushed himself from the wall.  The easygoing way Lance had turned the conversations in the large room around to him was no surprise at this point.  Again, the noirette was hit with a pang of jealousy, but he swallowed it down. It was always like this; where Keith got annoyed by the sheer amount of people and the constant need of others to converse with him, yet Lance was right at home in the thick of it.  He slid his hands into his slacks' pockets and walked silkily over to the brunet that had commanded the attention of the room.

He could feel Shiro as his back, acting every part the bodyguard, and he could already sense the uneasy feeling his brother was getting from the two of them being in close proximity.  Keith supposed that shouldn’t have been surprising. They were always at each other’s throats, and as both Acxa and Shiro seemed adamant to drill it into his brain, this meeting was important .  

But how could Keith just not react to Lance when he was around.  It would have been impossible to just sit against that wall.  No, he needed to do this. Something in his chest told him so.

Tilting his head slightly, the senior mob boss smirked at Lance and pulled a hand from his pocket to offer it forward in a handshake.  "You're late, you know."

As Keith stood there, hand out, most other conversations around them quieted and the air thickened with unease, as if everyone there knew that something bad was bound to happen eventually.  At least when these two were involved.

The brunet let Keith stand there a moment longer, taking the time to look him over.  The man was as expertly dressed as always, in a freshly pressed suit that managed to leave Lance feeling under-dressed, even though they were technically wearing the same thing. His hair was slicked back, but for a piece that hung down over his forehead, it's artful curl framing those pale, cesious eyes that usually were calculating and intimidatingly intelligent. Even now they were narrowed carefully, as if analyzing Lance's every move and judging him for every misstep.

Instantly, Lance bristled. Facing Keith, the brunet stood up straighter and stared down at the mob boss, barely concealed disdain in his expression. "Actually, you were early," Lance commented, which was technically true even though these meetings tended to start a predictable fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. "What, Keith , feeling jumpy today?"

Pulling on a manicured smile, Lance took Keith's hand and shook it. For once, the man wasn't wearing his gloves. And even though it was probably because he'd taken them off to be polite, Lance still felt his insides jolt at the sight of the man's soulmark.

"Not at all, what would give you that impression?" the noirette said, grinning. His voice was the staple of politeness, but he squeezed Lance's hand tightly, waiting for that opposing strength that rivaled his own to surface.

"Keith, why don't you leave him be?"  Shiro's voice was quiet in his ear, but he ignored his brother.  Instead, he decided to give his rival , as Lance was inclined to refer to him as, a firm once over.  Since Keith was technically his former superior, he took it upon himself to make sure that Lance wouldn't embarrass their side of the city.

The brunet has his hair slicked back much like Keith's was, much like most of their colleagues wore theirs, but his seemed a little less staged, as if he was just naturally born with his hair in such a way.  Their suits were of the same make, same tailor. At least he has good taste.  But that had never been in question.

As his eyes traveled lower, Keith took a moment to appreciate Lance’s posture, the way he carried himself. The strength and the power in his stance. His gaze drifted over the man's waist, don’t go there, Keith, you don’t need to go there, before traveling to his shoes.  Italian, well made, well worn. It was no surprise; from what Keith knew of Lance, and one may be surprised to learn that he knew quite a lot about Lance, the man took good care of his belongings, making them last longer.

"What's got you so tense, eh, Lancey Boy?"

"Tense?" Lance gave a crocodile's grin and gripped Keith's hand tight enough that he could practically hear his bones starting to grind together. "I don't know what you're trying to say, Mullet, you're the one who looks like they've got a stick up their ass." Keeping his temper in check, Lance pulled Keith closer with their linked hands and amended, with words that he kept soft enough that only the noirette could hear them, "Oh wait, that's just your face. My bad."

He could tell that the people around them were watching to see the outcome of this conversation, and Lance hated to think that he'd look weak in front of them, so he didn't give an inch. Keith was just an asshole, and it was his job to ignore that and move on with things.

Keith chuckled darkly, gripping Lance's shoulder with his free hand.  Seeing the brunet flinch at the sharp pain of the smaller man’s nails digging into his nerves made something weird rise up in him.  "Hm, you seem mighty interested in my ass, Lancey Boy. Maybe you'd like to take it for a spin?"

It was no secret where Keith's attentions lay, so he wasn't even mildly concerned with how people would take that comment.

"Keith..."  Shiro's voice was low with warning, but to be honest, the noirette was having too much fun.

Gritting his teeth at the way the man's nails dug into his skin, even through his suit, Lance decided to use his height to his advantage and loomed over Keith, his eyes darkening as he stared down at his rival. "Careful, Keith, you might run the show around here, but I'd have you screaming in seconds." Something flashed in Keith's eyes, but even though it wasn't much, Lance felt a certain swell of victory that he could get a reaction out of the noirette.

Pushing his advantage, Lance continued, "But then, it probably wouldn't be hard, considering I wouldn't be the first one taking a ride." Lifting his eyebrows ever so subtly, the brunet's smirk turned malicious, and he poured the anger and frustration that always rose up when saw Keith into the words, enunciating each one clearly.

Allura said something behind him, and Shiro responded in an equally terse voice, but Lance only had attention for Keith.

If he thinks that that is gonna get me to back down, he is sorely mistaken.  Keith rose up on his toes slightly and got up as close as he could, breath ghosting over Lance's ear.  "You seem rather confident, but are you sure you could handle it? Because honestly, Lancey Boy, " For some reason even he couldn't fathom, Keith lowered his hand to trail over Lance's chest and added a breathy tone to his voice, "For someone who claims to hate me with a fiery passion, you don't seem intent on letting go of me, do you?"

"That's quite enough, Keith, McClain."  The change in atmosphere was immediate. He was here.

Clearing his throat and taking a swift step back, finally releasing Keith, Lance straightened his spine and took several breaths to wipe the flush in his cheeks away. Goddammit, he didn't usually get that close to Keith, but suddenly he couldn't get it out of his head, the way the man's breath had brushed against his neck and the way his fingers had pulled at his white shirt and the way that damn seductive voice had dripped past his ears. It wasn't fair! He doesn't even know we're soulmates, why on earth would he do this to me?

For some reason, that made Lance even more annoyed, because if Keith would talk like that to an enemy, what was he like to other people. How many people has he treated like that? But why was he even thinking like that, Keith was his enemy so it didn't even m-

"There's business to do," the Patriarch said, moving past them and pushing open the doors to the conference room, exuding power and dominance that made even Lance feel like he couldn’t turn the conversation around in this man’s presence. "Personal matters can wait."

Coloring once again at the way the man had phrased the words, Lance glared at Keith, tipping his head back and channeling his contempt into his eyes.

When Lance released him, Keith swallowed hard.  What the hell had he been doing? He didn't do shit like that.  Ever. Keith just wasn’t the outright, flirting type, if you could even call that flirting.  It seemed like it had been, the way they’d looked at each other, but to be honest, he couldn’t be sure.  Fighting the blush that threatened to drag it's way up his neck and into his cheeks, the noirette cleared his throat of the knot that lay there.

"Right away, sir."  He turned and made to follow their superior, but something dragged at his mind.  Stopping, he turned back to Lance, who seemed just as infuriated and confused as he was.  "We're not done here. I expect to see you after the meeting." He took a step, but stopped again.  "Please."

"What, can't help but beg?" Lance mocked, before biting his tongue and physically drawing back from his own words.

Keith glared at him, which was enough in character for the two of them to snap the brunet out of his weird daze. Frustrated at his knee jerk reaction, Lance walked back what he'd said and instead muttered, "Yeah, alright, we'll talk later."

Following the Patriarch, Lance walked into the room with the other leaders and took his seat at the oaken table. Keith, naturally, sat across from him, as he always did. Even though it was a stupid little thing, Lance wished Keith would put his gloves back on, just so he wouldn't have to look at that mark. As he stared, his own wrist itched terribly, and he scratched at it, wishing he could just stop thinking for a moment.

"Thank you all for showing up today. As I'm sure you all will know," the Patriarch's secretary began, standing up and turning on the convenient still image of the Mob's territory. "We're all here to discuss a very important matter of land, one that we haven't had to have in a long time. " Lance glanced at Keith, and was unsettled to find he was already staring at him.

Well, he doesn't seem to be too affected by what just happened.  Keith watched as the brunet scratched at his wrist.  Despite what the secretary was saying, he found his attention fixated on the motion.   Now that I think about it, that's where one of his marks is.  Have I ever seen the other?  He thought back to when Lance first showed up in town, an underling in his own group.  Back then, the taller male had always left his wrists uncovered, and as far as the soulmarks went, if one was on one wrist, the other would be on the other wrist, but Keith had never seen Lance's other mark.   Maybe he...doesn't have another…

Now, Keith wasn’t that well versed in the way this whole soulmates and soulenemies thing worked, but having one soulmark could only mean one of two things.  His soulmate or soulenemy could have died, thus making the mark duller, but still visible, if you knew what to look for. But then there was the...much rarer and less accepted option.  There was an instance a few decades ago where one soulmark was attached to both the soulmate and the soulenemy. It could have been another such occurrence, but given how rare it was, that didn't quite make sense.  So maybe he was just covering it up with makeup or something. There were quite a few people who did that. The noirette wasn’t the only one who despised the idea of a soulmate.

Keith's eyes travelled down to the table where his hands sat and stared at his own marks.  He hated them. He wished he didn't have them. He didn't want a soulmate...they'd probably hate him anyway.  He wasn't worthy of being given one. God seemed to be fucking with him at this point. The whole idea was unnecessary, and Keith wanted no part of it.  It's why he chose to ignore them.

"Keith, pay attention."  Shiro's voice yanked him from his thoughts, soft and close to his ear.  He whipped his head back up and blinked, trying to turn his utmost attention towards the Patriarch and his secretary, who was pointing out the boundaries between territories.

"-Because Kogane's territory is largely stagnating, it would be in our best interest to-" Lance's attention kept wavering. He was trying to focus, really he was, but it was hard. If I could just stay frustrated with him, this would be easier. Pushing out a harsh breath, Lance ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up before obsessively pressing it back down into place as best as he could. Keith kept staring at his hands, which he'd splayed out over the desk, and even when Shiro redirected his attention, he left them sitting there, right where Lance could see.

Stop thinking about it; stop thinking about him. He doesn't even take you seriously. Sometimes, it felt like his whole life revolved around Keith, and Lance hated it. Forcing himself to resist scratching at his wrist, Lance purposefully folded his arms and glared at the table. He really shouldn't care about Keith at all, or he should just stick with hating him. That was so much simpler than becoming obsessed.

"-So clearly, the best course of action in this would be for both parties to work together in making this transition as smooth as possible as an alliance between our two biggest factions would make everyone's headaches a little less frequent."

"Whoa, wait," Lance broke in, blinking as he tried to work through what he'd just heard. "Work together? With him?"

"And this is what I told you the other night," Keith said, standing up and leaning on his hands.  It was the main way he'd taken to responding to things in these meetings, because it usually made people pay attention.  "An alliance, as beneficial as you may think it would be, would just cause more infighting and even bigger headaches.  While it may not affect you as greatly, the tole it would take on our individual groups would make things far more complicated."  He felt everyone's eyes on him, which wasn't surprising, but when he glanced down to where Lance was, he saw that the man wasn’t even looking at him.

"And why do you assume it wouldn't affect me as greatly?" the Patriarch said quietly, as he usually did when Keith disagreed with him.  It happened quite often, and they were usually able to work through it without involving the rest.  But there was a difference this time; his eyes were darker, and there was a smirk at the edges of his mouth.   He knew I would be the one to stand up and take control.  Dammit, I'm playing into his hands.

"While we are the two biggest factions and thus have most of the sway in this group, apart from you and the Board, it is still far below your level of concern.  Knowing how this group has handled matters in the past, you would rather sit back and watch us burn ourselves to the ground."

"Kogane!  How dare--!"

"No, Elaine, he's right," the Patriarch interrupted, holding a hand up to the redfaced woman beside him.  "That's exactly what I was hoping would happen. I do admit, it's entertaining to see how you deal with things, Keith, as someone who is in line to take over for me someday."  There was an eruption of hushed whispers around the table, and Keith stumbled backwards. Wh-why would he bring that up now??  However, without giving anyone time to fully accept this fact, the man turned to Lance and held a hand out.  "McClain, how do you see things proceeding if there was indeed going to be an alliance between the two of you?"

Take over? Of fucking course- Pushing the sheer frustration out of his tone, unwilling to show just how unfair that revelation felt, Lance tipped his head back and said, "Well, I don't know about you using my people to entertain yourself, especially if it involves throwing them against Keith's men for fun to see how many are killed, but I do know one thing." His grin was as nasty as the thoughts squirming beneath his skin. "If you do pit us against each other, sir ,  under the pretenses of an alliance, then with all due respect, you're going to need to find yourself a new successor."

All the whispers around the table went silence at once.  Heads whipped around so quick, you'd think that they would have broken their necks.

Keith on the other hand, felt a sneer form.   I'd promised to be civil, but...  Turning slowly, he crossed his arms and looked down at the brunet across the table.

"Keith, for the love of God, please don't..."

"You really think that you can take me, don't you?" the noirette questioned, his voice low and sharp.  His eyes sparked as he smiled nastily down at Lance.

Lance didn't even bother getting to his feet. If Keith was going to treat him like dirt, then he'd return the favor. Because who said soulmates has to mean shit. Fixing the noirette with a peaceful look, Lance easily said, "Yeah, I know I would." The rest of the room started murmuring, obviously unsettled by this turn of events, but Keith maintained eye-contact, so Lance didn't look away. "I don't care how important you are, I'm not going to put up with my branch getting treated like dirt by you ."

The heel of Allura's stiletto was currently trying to grind a hole in his foot, but Lance wasn't about to react. She could get as annoyed as she wanted, he wasn't going to put up with Keith and by extension the Patriarch walking all over him. His people had been sidelined for decades , and Lance for one, was sick of it.

And he was a little past sick of Keith.

"When, in all the times you've actually talked to me like a civil human being, have I ever said I was important?"  His original plan was to say as little as possible in hopes that this could be turned back around to the original point of this meeting, but apparently that time was far past.  "When, in the three years you've been a Branch Head, have I ever treated you like less than you deserve?"

"Keith, please, just let it go."

The noirette leaned forward on his palms again.  "I don't know what in the world I have ever done to make you assume that I was treating you like dirt just for the fucking fun of it, but you need to stop acting like a petulant child and grow the fuck up."

"Keith!"

"Shut up, Shiro."  His voice was calm, quiet, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the people around him shrink away.  "If you would really like to discuss what's got your head so far up your ass that you can't even see how childish you are being, you can come find me.  Until then-" He paused and stood straight, leveling his eyes on the Patriarch. "I'll hand over a portion of my territory to one of the newcomers; see what they do with it.  That should downsize what I control and level the two of us out. As of right now, I don't see an alliance forming."

Despite knowing that his words probably wouldn’t solve anything, because he knew that handing over territory to a newcomer usually ended in disaster, the noirette didn’t care. He just wanted to get out of there, and it seemed a better idea than just walking out.  Keith looked back at Lance once more before turning and pushing past Shiro, fisting his hands. He never got this angry. He never spoke to people like this unless they deserved it.  He slammed the doors open and made his way to the terrace. Despite what had gone on in there, Keith still needed to talk to the idiot, no matter how angry he was.

So he’d wait. Hopefully, he’d calm down a bit.

That fucking bastard- As all eyes in the room turned to Lance, the brunet glanced up at the Patriarch, who let out a soft sigh.

"Seeing as handing territory over to a newcomer won't solve our problem," Elaine said, tentatively stepping in. "I guess we'll have to postpone this for a later time."

Without waiting to be dismissed, or anything to that effect, Lance rose to his feet, nodded once at the Mob's head, freed his foot from underneath Allura's, then calmly walked towards the exit. Except for once, he felt like he'd actually won something, because he hadn't lost his temper, Keith had. And yeah, he wanted to disprove every one of those points the noirette had made, and it pissed him off that he'd been robbed of the opportunity, but in the end, this was probably better for him. Because this way, he wouldn't look like a hot-headed idiot, his rival would.

Pushing open the door of the room, Lance stepped out into the hall and took a breath before glancing down at his cuff and pushing it out of the way. The mark winked back cheekily at him, but it didn't mean anything, because he'd just proved it didn't. Soulmates means nothing, he repeated, his gaze dull as he felt something uncomfortable curling in his gut.

"It's just a mark," he said out loud, before pushing his cuff back down. And if Keith hates me, then I'm allowed to return the favor.

Chapter Text

"AAARGH!"  The yell ripped from Keith and echoed back inside the gilded hallways of the Main Branch.  "What the fuck is wrong with me!?"  He shoved his hands into his hair and yelled again, bending over to take several, heavy breaths.  "He didn't deserve that! Nobody deserves that!" Sinking into a squat, he put his head between his knees.  "Why am I so angry!? He's right! I'm a self-important bastard that won't get a fucking clue!  And I was going to apologize to him!  No way I can do that now!"

His yells faded, and he fought to catch his breath.  His hands slipped limply from raven tresses, several strands floating to the stone floor.  He must have ripped them out. Dammit…

If he's right about that, then maybe everyone else was right, too.  Maybe you don't belong here.  Maybe you should just disappear.  

Keith stilled at the sudden thought that flipped through his brain.  "Shut up," he told his mind.

Why?  It's only the truth.  You didn't want to be here anyway.  Just hand it all over.  

" Shut up."  

Give everything to Shiro.  He could do a better job than you ever could.  NO one wants you here. They don't want you as their leader.   

"SHUT UP!"  He slammed his fist against the stone floor of the balcony, and he felt the skin over his knuckles split, the air stinging as it touched the fresh wounds.  "I know I'm useless, I know I'm not good enough, but I'm fucking trying."

“You’re not useless.”

Keith turned quickly, the sudden voice shocking him from his self-pitying stupor.  He lost his balance, falling on his ass on the cool stone of the balcony. "W-what...?"

Just as he was passing by them, Lance stumbled back at the sudden burst of noise that had come from one of the many balconies that lined the council building. Looking around, confused even though he knew exactly where the sound had come from, Lance quickly put a face to the voice. Keith? Hang on, what's going on? Is he alright?

As if to answer this, the man suddenly yelled, "What the fuck is wrong with me?" Tentatively, Lance took a step forward. His first instinct was to call back in response that everything was wrong with Keith, but he bit his tongue as he heard the words, "He didn't deserve that, Nobody deserves that!!"

Something in Lance's mind slipped off the rails. Is he- He's talking about me? Keith was upset because he'd treated Lance badly? But why? He might just be upset because he disrespected the Patriarch. Or something... But that was flimsy reasoning at best, and even Lance couldn't really believe it.

Then he heard Keith yell, "Why am I so angry? He's right! I'm a self important bastard that won't get a fucking clue." The brunet found himself instinctively clenching his fists. It didn't matter that Keith was finally saying what he'd sort of wanted him to say for ages, it made his stomach turn. Stop yelling at yourself, Mullet, it's not going to help anyone. It was making him feel sick to his stomach, which he didn't understand a bit, nor did he want to.

"And I was going to apologize to him!!"

Lance's insides flipped.

"No way I can do that now."

There were several beats of silence, nothing but panting breaths and the sounds of the city nightlife beneath the balconies themselves.  Lance was almost tempted to turn away. He wasn’t sure if Keith would want him to interfere, not that he actually wanted to in the first place.  But then he heard Keith’s voice again.  It started out quietly, just a whisper.

“Shut up.”

The next was slightly louder, more vehement in it’s cadence.

“ Shut up.”

The third and final was the loudest, the sound bouncing off the walls around them and out into the night.

“SHUT UP!!”  

The sound startled him. Lance couldn’t help but stumble back as he was hit with the vehemence and force of the words. There was such anger held in them, the brunet wondered if Keith was actually yelling at someone, but… there couldn’t have been anyone else out there. He would have...heard them, right?  Or at least, they would have rejected the yelling that Keith was doing, but the noirette’s next words stabbed into Lance’s chest, almost knocking the air from his lungs.

"I know I'm useless, I know I'm not good enough, but I'm fucking trying."

"You're not useless."

The moment the words had escaped his mouth, Lance's face went hot and he cursed his existence. Oh god, why did I open my mouth. Staring nervously at the door to the balcony Lance knew Keith was on, the brunet bit his lip. Maybe he didn't hear me?

“Wh-what?”

Well shit. Lance hadn't meant to say anything at all, but it hurt to hear Keith that upset. He knew what it was like to feel useless, and it pissed him off that the strongest of the mob bosses would be so blind to his own abilities that he'd think he wasn't worth anything.

Taking another few steps forward, Lance attempted to say something before clearing his throat and actually saying, "Look, don't make me repeat myself. You're fucking amazing at what you do, Mullet, so stop saying that bullshit."

Keith blinked.  At first, he had had no idea who had spoken, but only one person would call him Mullet .  "Lance?"  

Scrambling to his feet, the noirette took a step forward and opened the door to the balcony, indeed revealing Lance.  Keith's face screwed up into a pained and embarrassed expression as he grabbed his opposite arm with the hand he had only moments earlier smashed into the stonework.  His eyes lowered. "Sorry...I didn't mean to...I didn't think that...Sorry you had to...hear...that."

Keith looked like a mess, which, judging by the way he'd been yelling, wasn't too far off. Usually, Lance's first reaction to seeing Keith would have been hostility, but his frustration took a backseat to that uncomfortable queasiness that plagued him at the obvious distress on Keith's face.

As the man's feeble attempts at excuses petered out, Lance glanced down at Keith's hand. "You're bleeding," he commented, rather lamely. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that punching things wasn't the answer?"

When Keith didn't move, Lance swallowed his own discomfort at the situation and reached for Keith's hands without really thinking. As the noirette jerked them away, Lance huffed and said, "Look, people lose their tempers all the time, I wasn't exactly fair to you either. It doesn't- I don't-" Aggravated that he couldn't articulate his thoughts, Lance rubbed at the back of his neck furiously and insisted, "You didn't start this one, I did. I'm not happy about what you said, but it's whatever."

It wasn't that he had an aversion to being touched by Lance, if that's what you were thinking.  In fact, Lance was one of the few people that Keith didn't immediately shy away from if they came within touching distance, aside from Shiro, the Patriarch, and Acxa.  Either way, having someone grab at his hands when A: he was bleeding, and 2: his marks were in full view, it was...unsettling.  He faced his palms downward and looked at them again. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

Shaking his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts there, Keith let out a breath and attempted to relax a little.  "I'm..I'm sorry. What I said, and what I did earlier before the meeting...it was uncalled for, and I was being selfish and...well, an idiot.  I was angry, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He kept his eyes trained on his hands, not wanting Lance to see the discomfort on his face, not wanting to show any kind of emotion at all.  Keith had never been the best at controlling his anger, his pain, and it showed. He felt like all of his emotions and thoughts were whirling around in a monsoon of feeling, his anger fueling that churning in his gut.  But he wasn't even angry at Lance anymore. He was just angry at himself. "I'm...you don't have to accept the apology or forgive anything I did. I just wanted..."

He winced at his own inability to speak.  Taking a deep breath, Keith whipped his head up and looked Lance in the eyes, not caring that he had been completely unable to hide anything , as if his heart was on his sleeve.  "I wanted to let you know that I don't actually think those things."

Under any other circumstances, Lance wouldn't have believed him.

Of course Keith believed those things, of course he hated Lance and thought he was worthless and a child who didn't deserve the power he had. But here he was, saying that he hadn't meant it. Confused at the emotions that were beginning to race around in his own mind, Lance deflated and once again reached out for Keith's hands, mostly so he wouldn't have to look the man in the eye.

Seeing the soulmarks this close set Lance's mind into chaos, but he focused on the fact that Keith was still bleeding so he didn't have to think about his own shitty situation. "Don't- don't worry, really," he said lamely, finding the handkerchief Allura had stuffed into his pocket and ineffectually dabbing at the blood. "You're right, I was acting like a child. But I want to be treated like I'm your equal, because technically I am. And when you blow me off and shit-" It really fucking hurts. "It doesn't feel like respect. You never gave me a chance to earn any respect, and no one else has ever had to earn anything, it was just me."

Realizing that he was running his mouth, and it probably wasn't making Keith feel any better, Lance cleared his throat and added, "But I treat you like shit too." I just want you to actually notice me for what I've done instead of the idiot I make myself out to be. "So don't apologize for it, Mullet, it's just as much my fault as it is yours." Which was probably the most mature thing Lance had ever said to Keith in his life.

"Be...be that as it may...I still...Either way.  It was wrong of me to say that to you, and I take it back."  Keith winced at the fabric on his knuckles. A hiss of pain released from between his clenched teeth, but he didn't yank his hand away.  Instead, he used his free hand to try and mask the grimace that flashed over his features. "Jealousy and annoyance got the best of me. And despite..." He winced again and swore under his breath.  

"Listen, I think we should go back in there, and actually try to figure this shit out.  It's not gonna be easy. It's not gonna be fair. But if we want to solve the issues that have been happening, I think we need to set up that alliance.  The men aren't gonna like it, but if we keep fighting like this..." He paused, not sure of how this entire thing would go. He wasn't sure if things would get better or worse.  "I don't know what will happen, but we need to...to try."

Keith kept his eyes down.  He was fairly certain that Lance would deny him outright, not even give him a chance to explain why they needed to get along.

"We need to fix the issues between the two of us before we can fix the problems with the rest of them," Keith said, finally.  "That's the point I was getting at."

Tying the kerchief around his hand, Lance paused and stared at Keith's fingers. Fix the issues between the two of us... Keith didn't even know how deep those issues went, and yet he still was reaching out a hand, a hand of peace. Speechless, Lance flicked his gaze up to Keith's face and found the man looking away again, obviously uncomfortable about the whole thing.

He tried to pretend it was a hard decision, whether or not to give into what Keith was saying, but as Lance stood there, he realized that the noirette had just offered him the one thing he wanted. Respect, and a chance. So like, two things . "I- Yeah. Yes. " Clearing his throat, the brunet tightened his hold on Keith's hand, squeezing it ever so slightly. "It would be for the best and-" Pausing, he shook his head and firmly said, "I'm tired of fighting you, Keith."

Caught off guard, Keith let out a small squeak of surprise.  He turned his eyes back up to Lance, and he felt a strange kind of warmth blossoming in his gut, consuming his unfortunately squishy insides.  Maybe it was because the brunet had agreed? He honestly didn't know, but it was a pleasant feeling, and it made him quite happy. The noirette turned a bright grin Lance's way and squeezed the hand that had held his so gently in return.  "Okay! I'm glad, because...honestly...so am I." It wasn't until he spoke them that the mob boss knew just how true those words were.

"Yeah," Lance agreed, hoping sincerely that he could get through this without having to think about either of their marks at all. "I'm tired of fighting." And when he saw a smile twitch over Keith's lips, Lance knew that he'd said the right thing.

Suddenly, there was a crashing sound as Shiro burst through the doors of the conference room, where people seemed to still be talking business.  The scarred man whipped his head around, looking for Keith, the noirette assumed. He was proven correct when his brother laid eyes on him and yelled out, “Keith!  There you are!” Running over to them, he glanced at Lance before doing a double take. An eyebrow raised, but he shook it off and said, “Lance, good. You’re here, too.  Makes things easier.”

The two looked at each other before Keith stepped forward.  “What’s going on? What’s got you to upset?”

“The club!  Someone’s attacked the club!”

“What!?”  The noirette heard Lance yell with him.

“And Pidge is gone!”

“Slow down! What in the hell are you talking about!? What happened?” Keith insisted, grabbing onto Shiro’s shoulder to keep him from bolting as the man’s body twitched into movement.

“I, I don’t know!  Allura got a call from the club, saying that it got shot up by some unknown party, and Pidge is missing, and I guess Acxa was there going over finalization for the payments, and-and...”

Lance stepped in. "Okay, deep breaths. You're saying that someone -" Shiro nodded, clearly attempting to regain his composure. "Someone broke in. Okay, do we know who?" Though he was attempting to put on a pretense of chill, Lance could feel his blood starting to boil. Okay, sure, he wasn't the best Boss, but who on earth would have the gall to do something like that?

"The bartender didn't recognize any of them, and the descriptions weren't familiar to me either," Allura butted in, pushing her way into the conversation, her fingers still flying over her phone. "They weren't from anyone here, though I know some people who might... Well, let's not start in-fighting."

Glancing over at Keith, Lance couldn't help but think, Are you ready to work together, Mullet, because it looks like we don't have a choice anymore. Keeping it to himself, Lance squared his shoulders and announced, "I'll head over there with him right now." He jerked a thumb in Keith's direction. "He's got the most senior eyes of the two of us. But Allura, I want you there too. Explain what's going on to the council, but-"

"Then head over to the club, got it." Allura nodded primly. "I'll pull together some of Keith's men, too. Just in case. There are already Brass swarming the scene, but they'll let you in." Her expression was as sharp as the click of her shoes against the polished floor as she turned and walked towards the large wooden doors. "Now get out of here."

While Allura and Lance had been talking, Keith had brought a hand up to chew on his nail.  What in the hell? Who in their right mind would attack a boss's base ?  Just because he wasn't there didn't mean the rest of his men weren't.  The noirette glanced down at his soulmarks. The one on his left was itching again.

"Keith?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, the shorter man looked up quickly, gaze flicking between Lance and Shiro.  "We'll take my car. It's not in the garage, so it'll be easier to get to. Shiro." His brother nodded tersely.  "Go with Allura; you know the men. They'll have a hard time listening to her, but if you're there, they'll listen.  Get in contact with Hunk. His shift is on the other side of town, but if it involves Pidge, he'll need to know." He then turned to Lance.  "He's a cop, but he'll be able to help us, not hinder us."

Lance held up his hands. "As long as he doesn't try to play the good guy against the wrong people, I don't care." He'd heard the name before, probably from Pidge now that he thought about it, but he didn't know him well enough to say one way or another. But if Keith said he was cool, then he was. "What I'm concerned about is the fact we're taking your car? You think I'm letting you drive with your hand fucked up like that?"

Eyes widening suddenly, Keith looked down at his hand, which was still wrapped in the white handkerchief, although now it was starting to become stained from his blood.   Who knew knuckles could bleed so much?  Oh right, me, I knew that.  "Oh...yeah."  He chuckled nervously and brought his other hand to scratch at his neck.  "I forgot about that." Dropping his hand, the noirette attempted to put a more serious look back on his face.   "Either way, my car is still closer. You can see it from here. I don't mind you driving as long as you promise not to be reckless. It just got a new paint job after someone shot the shit out of it in last month's raid."

Without giving Lance time to answer, Keith grabbed onto his sleeve, yanking him through the doors.  "We don't have time to argue about this." After pausing for a minute, grey eyes flicking back to look at the brunet, Keith added, "And don't worry about Hunk.  He and Pidge have been together for years from what I heard, and he helps keep the rest of the force at bay for us. As far as I know, he’s the only cop that actually wanted to work with us.  We didn’t even really have to pay him off.”

Trotting along after the noirette, Lance didn't bother freeing himself. "Hey, I'm not worried. I-" He almost said I trust you , but stopped before he could. Not wanting to leave Keith room to question the dangling sentence, Lance finished, "As long as he's not too prickly, I'll be able to get along with him."  

How am I already so comfortable with the guy?  I thought I hated him. The first explanation that popped into his head was soulmates but he instantly pushed it away. No, it was just... a mistake. A fluke. Enemies was what he knew, an alliance was about as close as he was willing to get. Almost... regretfully, Lance tugged his sleeve out of Keith's hand before drawing level with the man, keeping pace easily.

"Don't worry about your paint job, Mullet," the brunet commented lazily, trying to keep the silence from becoming awkward or from devolving into another argument. "I've destroyed much more expensive things. I won't waste my time on your car."

"That...doesn't make me feel any better."  He turned a corner quickly, maybe a little two quick because Lance almost ran into the wall.  "Sorry." He threw an apologetic smile over he shoulder, watching as the taller man sidestepped the wall.  It almost brought a laugh bubbling into his throat. Come on, Kogane.  Get a grip. So what if you've never actually hated the guy.  He still dislikes you heavily. Stop trying to be all buddy-buddy.

"The exec. elevator is down this hallway.  It'll be the fastest way down to the lobby, since that's where they keep my car."  He sighed and kept moving. "I didn't even want the spot,” he began to mutter under his breath.  “I don't even wanna take over. I want nothing to do with it but does he listen, noooo. I have to be his goddamn favorite And all that bullshit."  He continued to grumble to himself, not realizing that he was scratching at his soulmark again.  Shiro had his gloves.

Lance didn't respond to Keith's rant, still too uncomfortable with the matter to deal with it. The exec. elevator? Of fucking course, he gets to use it. Fuck... He couldn't help the frustrated expression that crossed his face. No, no he wasn't gonna go off on Keith for something like this. It was stupid, it was immature, it was- "What, too good to use the normal elevator like the rest of us, Mullet?" Okay, fine , he was a child.

Keith turned and gave Lance an dumbfounded look.  "Really? We're gonna do this now ?" Right after we finally decided to call a truce?  Whirling back around, Keith dug in his pocket for his keys, shuffling through until he came to a small, golden key.  To be honest, it looked more like a wind up key for music boxes. "Stop acting like a brat. I never use this elevator.  I hate it with its too bright walls and stupid muzak." He shoved the key into the tiny notch underneath the number pad before turning to look at Lance and those infuriatingly bright baby blues.  "I never wanted any of this."

"Yeah, but you sure as shit never complain about it," Lance pointed out, standing away from the elevator just on principal. He hated the damn thing as much as Keith did, he'd only ever ridden in it once and that had been too much. How people could use it regularly and not feel sick was beyond him.

But fuck, Keith looked like he belonged in the damn thing as the doors opened and bathed him in bright light. He looked like the future of the Family, and that pissed Lance off because... Because why did it have to be Keith?

"I complain about it all the time! But you never stick around to have even a single conversation with me.  All you do is bolt, just like the other night in the park." Keith let the doors shut behind them and jammed his finger into the lobby button.  Crossing his arms, he winced heavily at the pressure on his hand, white hot pain lancing up his arm. Great.  That's gonna be so much fun to deal with.

He held his wrist in one hand and flexed his battered knuckles.  "Jesus fuck that hurts."  Glancing at Lance, he said, "If you bothered to sit and have a decent conversation with me you'd know how much I hate being in this position.  Maybe you should try it sometime."  His voice had softened; he could see how much his position bothered Lance, but really, what could he do? It wasn't his choice anymore, and it bothered him just as much, if not more.  Keith was being forced into being the successor.  He didn't want it; he hadn’t in a long time.

Despite the fact that Keith clearly didn't want to fight, Lance was already upset over it. Pressing himself against the opposite wall of the elevator, hating the whole situation even though it was stupid, the brunet muttered, "You know what, Keith, I never had anything against talking to you, but every time you looked at me, it was like I was the scum on the bottom of your shoe and I don't know, maybe I'm just an unpleasant person to be around but somehow, I get along with everyone else and you , you are the only person that breaks that mold."

God, that was mean ; he knew that was being cruel. But he was upset, and he wasn't sure where to put that anger besides into his words. Here was his soulmate, standing across from him, and the guy was calling him a coward. Fuck you, if I were a coward, I wouldn't be here.

Keith tried.  He really tried to stay calm.  But for some reason when it had to do with Lance,  he just couldn't. He let out a breath and took the two steps it would take to reach the brunet.  Grabbing onto his collar with his uninjured hand, Keith yanked Lance forward. "Because every single time I tried, you looked at me like I was some unreachable enemy that was only out to get you!! I tried but you never, ever let me in!  Not ONCE!!" He dropped the shirt collar and turned around.  

Tears were picking at his eyes.  The sensation, the way it burned, was a surprise to him.  Keith didn’t cry.   At least not in front of others, and especially not in front of Lance, but here he was, unable to hold back the flood of negativity and anger that pierced his veins.  It hurt, to be this furious, and maybe that was what had caused the tears. "I never wanted to be your enemy but you never gave me the chance to be anything different.  I'm a human being, Lance, no matter how much you may want to deny it. I get hurt just like everyone else. So try treating me like one for once."

Staring down at the man, at Keith , at his enemy and his soulmate, Lance felt something in him crumble. He could feel the raw pain and hurt in the noirette's words, practically see the hurt leaking out around the edges, and it hurt him, even though he'd been angry not seconds before. But in the face of this... hell, he wanted to stay angry but he couldn't. As the fire drained from him, the brunet lifted a hand and reached out, tentatively. "Keith, I-" The words died on his lips before he could speak them.

As his hand moved closer, he watched as his sleeve moved up his wrist, revealing the corners of his tattoo. Reflexively, he drew his hand back, only for Keith to flinch, like he knew that Lance had been on the verge of crossing a line. Pulling back, he let his hand fall to his side before huffing softly. "You're not fucking human, you're-" He ran a frazzled hand through his hair as he realized what he was saying. "We're mob bosses, both of us." Straightening, Lance continued, "And I've got a lot of emotions when it comes to our positions. So let's... try not to fight."

That was all over the fucking place, McClain, congratulations. What the fuck.

Keith tried to smooth away the hurt that was apparent on his face when the brunet drew back his hand.  It was insane, really, the feeling of wanting the other to touch him.  To cross over into a place neither of them had ventured into before.  They'd been at each other's throats for years now, ever since Lance had pushed him away that first time.  

And if Keith was being honest with himself, which he had a track record of not doing so, he craved every moment they were near each other.  He'd never had anyone hate him that much before, and where most people shied away when they were confronted with dislike that fierce, it just made him want to get closer.

He was insane, completely batshit out of his mind crazy.  That was all he could think that would make sense as to why he wanted to be near the man that despised Keith with every fiber of his being.

"I won't if you don't," the smaller male said after an eternity stretched on.  The elevator dinged above them, and the doors slid open with a soft woosh that was almost inaudible.  Wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, he stepped out of the bright, florescent lights of the deathtrap that was that elevator.  From his pocket, he withdrew his valet ticket.

Numbly watching as Keith stepped away, seemingly composed though he couldn't possibly be anything close to that, Lance opened his mouth and said what he'd meant to say before he'd put his foot in his mouth. "You're better than me, Keith, and I'm jealous." The shorter man froze. "You've always had and done and been all the things I wanted to be, and you've done it far better than anything I could have. I'm sorry that I've let that get in the way of our lives." Taking a breath, Lance walked forward and snatched the ticket from Keith's hand.

Not looking at the other's face, Lance walked forward and said, "Lets get there before the police destroy the useful evidence."

A breath hitched in his throat, those tears that he was sure he was finished with welling up anew.  Blinking against them, Keith swallowed and forced his feet into action. Sniffling, he muttered, "If Hunk's there, I'm sure they haven't touched anything."  The noirette ignored the tightness in his throat, the crack in his voice as he followed after Lance. He wasn't sure if he should say anything in response to the brunet's confession, if you could even call it that; it was more of an admission than anything, actually.

"Good," Lance said, before turning and reaching out a hand. "Come on; keys, dude, I'm not letting you dri... ve..." His words died away. Keith looked up and glared at him, but it wasn't enough to hide the tears in his eyes. Taking a step back towards the noirette, Lance softly started, "Shit, Keith, I-"

"Not now, Lance," Keith said firmly, even though the hand that reached out with his keys was shaking. "We have work to do."

Then he dropped the keys, forcing Lance to lunge out to catch them. By the time he had his hands securely around the keyring, Keith was already walking away, leaving Lance to wonder what the hell he'd just done.

Chapter Text

Keith Kogane had never been one to keep his heart on his sleeve, never been one to show just how much certain things could hurt him.  He'd gone years without showing his true feelings to anyone save for Shiro. In his 26 years of life, Keith could count on one hand the amount of times he had fully broken down and cried .  The last time had been way back before he'd ever become a Branch Head.  Large displays of emotion were few and far between.

And yet...he had cried and had gotten so furious that he lost all control of his mental faculties all in the course of a few hours.

And the person that had caused all of this emotion to the surface just so happened to be in the driver's seat of Keith's newly refurbished Audi R8, letting his baby rumble to life around them.  You could say that this made Keith uncomfortable.  But that would be an understatement, a glaring oversimplification of a situation.  

This car was the one thing that the mob boss had gone out of his way to make sure he got, despite it not being readily available to the public. It helped when you had Family Money on your side.  Keith normally hated using the money he was given by his parents, but he wanted that car.  No matter what strings he had to pull, no matter the amount of grovelling he had had to do in front of that man.
Swallowing around the painful, uncomfortable lump in his throat, the mob boss kept a careful eye on the way Lance twisted in the seat to strap himself in.  As his eyes stayed glued to the other mob boss, his brain suddenly decided to use the excuse of he better be nice to my car to not-so-stealthily check the man out.  He watched the way the brunet’s white button down pulled taut against his chest as he put the car into gear.  The way his shoulders flexed as he put an arm across the back of the passenger seat to get a better view of what was behind them.  The smaller man shifted in his seat, and swallowed for a completely different reason.

"God, Keith, if your car was a person, I swear , I'd buy them dinner first," Lance muttered under his breath, his fingers slipping into the groves that Keith's hands had left behind from numerous vehicular excursions. That in and of itself was enough to fuck with his head, reminding him of the conversation they'd just had, but it was the way Keith watched him that made him feel like he had settled into a life he'd only ever observed from the outside.  Despite how long he’d wanted to be a part of that world, he felt even more as if he wasn’t allowed to be there.

"Careful, there, sharpshooter," Keith breathed as he leaned forward slightly to adjust the mirror, pretending like he wasn't still staring at the brunet, and he was sure that Lance was able to catch the meaning behind his stare.  This time, as he leaned forward, he caught a glimpse of Lance's collar bone, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Jesus, how can someone so infuriating be so attractive?  "That's my baby you're talkin' about.  Think you better buy me dinner first."

There was silence as Lance turned onto the road, and when the brunet slanted his gaze towards him, a smirk just barely hidden, the implications of what Keith had just said clicked in his mind.  Heat rising in his cheeks, the noirette stared down at the gearshift.

Clearing his throat, glad that Keith was able to put that vulnerable side of himself away so easily, Lance glanced at the noirette in the rearview mirror, and examined the way his flush traveled down his neck and past his collar. "Mmm, well I had better start wooing then, shouldn't I?" Feeling the shift of the car's speed as he pulled out of the roundabout that took up about more than half of the area in front of the building, Lance hummed under his breath and let out a soft laugh. "Listen to her purr, I wonder if she gets it from you." Okay, now you're just being a little shit; you just fought with him, asshole. Yeah, but... Lance felt his arm tingle. These are extenuating circumstances.

Keith's jaw dropped momentarily, snapping shut as Lance wiggled his eyebrows.   Oh, so this is how we're gonna play it, hm?  Fine, you need two to tango.  Angling his body so he was facing more towards Lance, as far as his seatbelt would allow, he leaned forward to prop his elbow on the center console, resting his chin in his uninjured hand.  

"You sure you really wanna know?" he said, his voice low, a slight rumble accentuating his words.  He wasn't sure how or what was happening, nor why his mind was suddenly traveling in this direction.  Sure, it could have been the stress getting to him, the fact that he was in his own space, which always made him less reserved, or, and this was the more likely one, that he'd always felt a weird fire between them.  Then again, that fire could just be the utter dislike that had lived between them for so long, bitterness and feelings of rejection that dug bone deep. "'Cause I'm sure I could give you a demonstration."

"Oh, what kind of demonstration are we talking about here?" Lance asked, enjoying the situation despite himself. Keith was leaning over the console, and for once, the brunet felt like maybe if they had possessed a different type of relationship, this is what they could have enjoyed. Purposefully keeping his eyes on the road, the man casually continued, "Because I dunno about you but I don't think the tint on these windows is that good.  Though, if you keep talking to me like that, we might find out the answer to more than one question, Red." The name dripped off of Lance's lips like candy, the syllable sweet on his tongue.

And then he realized just how far he was taking this and wondered if perhaps he'd lost his mind. Because look, just because he usually didn't like the guy didn't mean that Lance couldn't look, right? Oh boy, come on McClain, get your shit together; you have important things to do. Right?

Humming, Keith smirked.   Just remember...you started it, Lance.  "Oh really?  What other questions could you possibly have, sharpshooter?"  For some reason, the nickname came easily, as if he'd said it for years, the word rolling off his tongue in the most comfortable way.  "As for demonstrations, well, I'm sure something could be arranged." Lifting a shoulder in nonchalance, the noirette raised his head so he could use his hand to tuck his hair behind his ear.  "You'd be surprised the kinds of hiding places I know about."

Maybe he was out of his mind.  Maybe he had gone completely insane, but hey, who said insanity couldn't be a little fun?

"Why hide when you've got a perfectly good backseat?" Lance asked, his mouth moving without thinking, as if his brain had short-circuited completely. The moment he said it, the brunet almost hit his head against the steering wheel. Oh well, it's too late to back out now, he's the one who decided to make something out of  my comment. "And as for the questions I have-"

A car swerved out in front of them, startling Lance. Throwing on the brakes, both on the conversation and the car, the brunet swore loudly and put the car in reverse, quickly backing up before screeching out around the guy. "Jesus Christ!" he snapped, twisting his neck to look for the car, which was already pulling away into an alley. "Who the fuck was that?! It was like they were trying to get hit!"

Keith, meanwhile, was clutching his arm so tight that Lance was certain he would have bruises in the morning.

Keith felt his heart rise up into his throat so quick it almost choked him.  After the initial brake-slam, he'd had to keep himself from flying forward, almost bashing against the dashboard.  As his nails sunk into the fabric of Lance's suit jacket, the noirette shook him, his voice coming out low and terrified and entirely full of rage.  " IF YOU FUCKING WRECK MY CAR I WILL KILL YOU ."

Cesious eyes turned up towards Lance's and saw he was just as angry as the noirette was, if not more so.  Taking a deep breath before releasing it, the air shuddering from his lungs, Keith leaned his forehead against Lance's bicep.  "Fucking hell..." His earlier words, said in anger and far too quickly, sunk in and he added, "And before you get mad, I was talking to the asshole that almost killed us."

"I swear to god," Lance muttered. "Some people are unbelievable." Drawing a breath, Lance shook himself and attempted to slow down the car before he hit something. He glanced over at Keith, who looked more furious than anything, and the brunet asked, in a slightly stilted tone, "Are you... Are you alr-"

He would have finished that question, had not Keith grabbed the steering wheel and yanked the car to the side, riding the curb as he let out a yell. Staring in the rearview mirror, Lance saw the car behind them, the same one that had almost hit them before, and rolled down the window before he could stop himself. "IF YOU'RE GONNA KILL US AT LEAST DO IT WITH SOME FUCKING SKILL!!" Yanking the wheel back around, pulling them off the curb, Lance sped down the street and turned at the first available opportunity, decidedly getting away from the terrible driver.

"Jesus fucking almighty CHRIST !" Keith heard himself blurt out as he sat up to twist in the seat, glaring at the lights that flared up behind them.  "Lance, would you slow down a bit?" Watching to make sure that the car hadn't decided to follow them, his mind raced, trying to connect the synapses to whatever could have just happened.  When the brunet finally eased up on the gas a little, Keith glanced back at him, but mostly kept his eyes behind them.

No one would do that twice, not unless they had a purpose.

“Lance.” Reaching up a hand to Lance’s arm once more, Keith prodded at it to get his attention before muttering, "I think someone's trying to stop us from getting to Pidge."

"Nah," Lance dismissed, still shaken but already settling down. "They're probably just drunk. No one actually tries to hit you with cars, Keith. No one even knows we're in the same car." Taking a hand off the steering wheel, Lance unconsciously put a hand on Keith's shoulder, hopefully to calm the man down. "We're going to find Pidge whether they want us to or not."

Still, the fact they'd almost gotten hit had completely made him lose his train of thought, and at this point, he highly doubted he was going to remember it any time soon.

"No, Lance, people know my car.  I’m the only one that has this model.  It doesn't matter if both of us are in it or not.  As long as one of us is out of the picture, it’ll be easier to stop the other."  Looking at Lance, pulling lightly on his sleeve to get those blue eyes to turn to him, Keith continued, "I'm telling you, that kinda shit doesn't happen on accident twice.  Once maybe, but after that, it’s intentional, no matter how you look at it."

The weight of the brunet's hand on his shoulder was comforting, and it reminded the smaller man to center himself, but things like this were painfully obvious to him.

"This isn't the first time it's happened to me.  I know when someone is trying to kill me."

"I- most people just get along with me," Lance admitted, shrugging lightly and keeping his eyes on the road, decidedly not looking at Keith. Okay, sure, being a mob boss wasn't simple, and occasionally someone tried to stab you, but something like this had never happened to Lance before. He wasn't sure how to deal with the complete lack of shock in Keith's voice. How does it feel to always suspect someone's going to try and kill you? It couldn't be good.  Vaguely, he mused that maybe that was why Keith always seemed so...jaded, because he had to go around expecting to be on the other end of someone’s gun.

"It's alright; I'm not bad enough at this to get hit by an idiot," Lance said, though he was pretty sure he was reassuring himself. Okay, so people wanted to kill Keith, so what?  It was to be expected of someone so high up on the food chain. He really shouldn't be reacting to that fact, at all. Except he was, and he wasn't sure where to put those emotions.

Sighing, Keith looked out the back window once more before turning and settling back into the plush leather seat.  "You'd be surprised the types of idiots that manage to hit others." His side stung, and the noirette put a hand against it, against where the scar still tingled whenever it got cold.  "I managed to get pushed off an overpass by some low grade grunt last year. 53 stitches and three months in a hospital. Anyone can kill you if you let your guard down."

The brunet was silent beside him, probably trying to process what Keith had just told him.  Now that he thought about it, Keith had made sure no one knew about the incident, about his hospital stay.  Everyone had been told that he was on vacation in some tropical resort, on an island way out in the ocean somewhere.  The only one who had known was Shiro. Even Acxa had been left in the dark.

The noirette let his eyes slid closed as the memory of that pain from the overpass barrier slicing through his side flared to life in his mind, reminding him must how fragile the human body could be.  "The longer you're a boss, the more people try to hurt you, and the more successful they become.”

He almost died. Lance couldn't quite form words; he just sat there, driving in silence. My soulmate would have died, and I would never have known. My mark would have just vanished, and I'd never have gotten to this point. And even though he was pretty damn sure he didn't care that he was soulmates with Keith, the thought of never knowing something that important was scary.

Tongue flicking out and wetting his dry lips, Lance softly said, "I'm glad you're alright." It was kinda pointless to say; he knew that it would probably happen again. Hell, someone had just tried to kill them, or at least kill Keith, so he couldn't do much to stop it, but the brunet still said the words, because he meant them. Even though he couldn't meet Keith's eyes, both because he was watching the road and because he was feeling rather out of his element, the man muttered, "I- I heard rumors that something bad had happened, but I-" Secretly reveled in the idea that you might be seriously hurt?

Shame pricked at his ears, and Lance put his head down, hand slipping off of the man's shoulder as he did so. Returning it to the steering wheel, the younger mob boss said, "I'm sorry that you have to go through this shit."

Lance's voice was quiet and strained, as if he was in pain, and it made Keith's heart squeeze.  Tightening his fingers in the fabric of his jacket, he swallowed hard against that sudden rush of feeling.   What the hell is this...?  The soulmark on his left hand started to itch, and then started to burn, but he tried to ignore it.  

While that surge of emotion rose up in his throat, Keith tried to put on an air of nonchalance.  "It's part of this life; we all have to deal with it. Yeah, it sucks, but you learn to live with it, or die because of it."  He tried to send a smile up at the brunet, but he was sure it came out as more of a grimace. Lance's eyes remained on the road, and the noirette was silently relieved that the taller man hadn't seen it.

"It wasn't the first, and it won't be the last," Keith said, but the words felt empty.  Then he murmured, "I say that, but it's actually pretty terrifying.” There was mirthless laughter bubbling in his throat.  

Bowing his head, previously slicked back hair falling over his eyes from hours of strain, the marks on the backs of his hands, still uncovered as a result of not having his gloves, caught his attention.  The one on his left was still itching, burning as if there was lava flowing under his skin. Soulmates...soulenemies?  Why does there have to be such an obvious, physical reminder of them?  Why do they have to exist at all? If I could just live in a world where they didn’t exist…  

But at that thought, icy pain stabbed through his chest, as if the words were blasphemous, and God was trying to punish him for them.  It reminded him of when he was a child, watching his marks appear for the first time, the feeling of love and warmth that filled his chest at the thought of someone out there with a mark that matched his own, to be his forever.  

Because of that feeling, new words fell from his lips.  “But...even though these stupid marks and the idea of a soulmate seems like too much of a hassle, like some kind of sick joke, its..."  He paused, not sure how to articulate the feeling, the idea of dying without knowing the person you were meant for, the person made just for you.  "Its...awful...and scary, to feel like you're going to die without...knowing? what it's like to be next to the person meant just for you..."

Lance's throat tightened and he choked out, "Y-yeah."

It was all he could say to the other’s words, because fuck, if Keith hadn't just articulated exactly what he was thinking. Suddenly, he was struck with the irrational urge just to tell Keith that he was the noriette's soulmate, just so neither of them would ever have to die without that particular matter ever being resolved, but just as he opened his mouth to do so, he stopped and promptly bit his tongue. No, don't be a fucking idiot for the love of god. If you tell him, you can't ever take that back.

Shit, would he want to take it back?

Frustrated with himself more than anything, Lance suddenly blurted out, "I only have one mark." When Keith didn't say anything, the brunet went a furious shade of red and stumbled on. "S-so the few times I have come close to dying... I- I guess I always figured that whoever my soulmate was, they probably wouldn't miss me. Because they'd be my enemy too. And- and if they died, then it'd just be my enemy dying."

As they came to a stop light, Lance clenched his fingers over the steering wheel and muttered, "I never even thought about the soulmate part of things; it was just...easier not to. But... now I'm not so sure."

So he really  does only have one...  "I've...heard about rare cases of only having one mark, but I thought it was just some crack story people tell.  That seems..." Keith knit his brows. "That sounds like God just being a fucking prick to be honest. Loving and hating someone that much all at the same time seems like too much."  He raised his head and pulled up his left hand to look at his mark, brushing the fingers of his opposite hand over the delicate swirls and sharp angles. "I never cared about soulmates or soulenemies or any of that bullshit.  I wanted to love at my own pace...not be thrown into something that I wasn't ready for. God sounds like a right asshole in my opinion."

He chuckled and looked up at Lance, attempting once again at a smile.  "But maybe it’s not so bad...if you fear losing someone you don't even know to that extent, then maybe...maybe it would be nice to meet them some day."

Faintly, Lance murmured, "Maybe someday," trying not to get lost in Keith's eyes.

Thankfully, the light turned green, giving him an excuse to extract himself from the uncomfortable feeling of staring destiny in the face.

But... But you couldn't get away from fate, could you?

"What if you met your soulmate and you hated h- Them. What if you hated them? What would you do?" Lance asked, tripping over his own words in the haste to get them out. "What if they hated you? What if you met them, and they just fought with you and didn't give a shit. Would you still want to meet them?" Needing to give an excuse for his questions, Lance quickly added, "I'm not sure I'd ever want to know. I'm still not sure." I'm not sure that I ever wanted to know it was you. "Because then I wouldn't know how to feel about them."

Humming under his breath for a moment, Lance firmly agreed, "Yeah, God is a fucking asshat sometimes. Because even if I were to end up in a relationship with my soulmate, I'd probably just fight over every little thing with them. And it wouldn't be a relationship at all."

When Lance turned his eyes towards his own, Keith felt a weird sense of something clicking inside of his mind, as if there was something physical there that tied them together.   No, that's impossible.  The only way you'd get a feeling like that...  

Mentally shaking himself, the noirette swallowed, just as Lance turned his gaze back to the road.  He mulled over Lance's words, eyes trailing along one swooping curve of his mark. "Even if I hated them...I would still want to know them.  Fate’s a bitch, and maybe all you'd do is fight and hurt each other, but it would be better knowing that they were there and real than never knowing them at all.  You wouldn’t have to die without knowing that part of your own soul." To be sure, Keith wasn't entirely well versed on soulmate lore and all the intricacies that came along with it.  But…

"If you think about it, a lot of people hate each other at first before later getting along and forging a bond that's stronger than it would have been if they hadn't hated each other in the beginning.  So I think it all has to do with how much you really want to be with your soulmate, and how much you want to resist God's ‘plan’, or whatever shit he's got cookin' up there."

"What if I don't want to be with them at all."

The moment he'd said it, the millisecond the words left his lips, Lance wanted to take it back, wanted to push that entire line of thought down into the bottom of his gut. But he couldn't, so he just sat there in silence, waiting for Keith to answer.

There was too much in his head. Keith's gentle insistence that he wanted to meet his soulmate, even if that soulmate hated him, was enough to make Lance feel like a monster. Because he wasn't sure how he felt about Keith, and yet the man seemed to already know how he felt about the brunet. I just wish I didn't have to dislike him so much half the time I'm around him. He's not a bad guy, he's just... an asshole sometimes.

But now he was starting to think that fighting with Keith for the rest of eternity would be miserable, because that was his soulmate . Fuck enemies, Lance didn't want to hate anyone, but he did want to find someone he could love, even though it was a stupid and naive thought to have. He'd always ignored it, because he didn't know who his soulmate was; he'd always known that he'd hate them, but his world was quickly shifting, and he wasn't sure which way was up or which way was down anymore.

Those words hurt .  But he didn't know why.  Keith felt like a piece of him had been ripped away, and he clutched his left hand to his chest.   What the fuck is happening to me?  Why did it hurt so much?  It made no sense. Lance was talking about his soulmate, so why did the noirette feel like the world was shattering around him?  "That..." He paused to try and swallow down the inexplicable pain. "Doesn't it hurt...to say that?"

"No," Lance lied, keeping his eyes resolutely fixed straight ahead. It did hurt; the way Keith had asked that question made the brunet feel like someone was clawing at his throat and tearing at his insides. It was bullshit; he did care. Maybe he hadn't before, but he did now . Though he couldn't explain why it mattered, Lance knew that it mattered very much.

Yet still he finished, as if his mouth was on a single track that couldn’t be stopped, "I can say it very easily, in fact. Because I don't think I want to be with my soulmate." He didn't even bother tacking on the whoever they are , he just left those words hanging there in the air; thick, heavy, damning, untrue .

"Then you're a fool."

The words caught in Keith’s throat, and it wasn't until he felt that weird clicking in his head again that he realized just how much he meant them.  It wasn't until then that he realized, suddenly, just how much he wanted to know who this person was that held the other half of his soul. He had an overwhelming urge to run like hell until he found them.  Hot, fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and Keith leaned over his hands, putting his head between his knees. The seatbelt cut into his chest, but he didn't care. Hearing those words from Lance cut him far deeper than any physical blade could, drawing uncharacteristic tears from the depths of his being.

He didn’t even understand why.

"You're a damn fool."

"C'mon, Keith," Lance muttered lamely, his voice rough and awkward. "Don't cry. Where's the asshole I was jealous of for years, huh?" Jesus, why had he said that to his soulmate? Even if Keith didn't know, it was still cruel. But...

"Maybe I am a damn fool, Mullet, but if I'm just gonna fight with them, I'd rather not know at all."

"Even assholes can feel pain," the noirette mumbled, trying to get the tears to stop.  His voice was muffled by the fabric of his pants. He wished he wasn't such a baby that night, but he was thankful that he was within his own space where no one could see.   Except for Lance .  He wished he could just brush off what the other had said, but there was something there that pulled at him.  It was like there was someone shaking him, trying to get him to see the bigger picture.  

And he was trying, goddammit he was trying.  "Even if my soulmate hated me, even if all we did was fight, even if there was more bad than good, going against something that is such a deep part of you hurts , even if you're just thinking about it."

He straightened, ever so slightly, and looked over at Lance, and his eyes went wide, looking at the brunet's face.  There was a light there, but not a physical light in the sense that he could see the other man's features. This seemed like a supernatural light, a light leading him home.  "W-what is..." Something called to him, to his soul; something made his hand move. The mark on his hand blurred as he reached out, the patterns carving a burning path into his skin.  He was just about to touch that light, and something in him told him that this was right, that this was what he was meant to do but…

The car came to a stop.  Lance put the vehicle into park.

They were at the club.  Keith could see the circling lights from the police.

Turning to look at Keith, who was staring at him like he was the worst person on earth, and yet somehow something more, Lance clenched his teeth and said, "Well, let's try to think about something else then. Come on, Keith, we've got work to do." When the man didn't move, just kept crying softly, with that stubbornly hurt look that made Lance feel like a monster, but with eyes that screamed for understanding, the brunet sighed and reached out with his sleeve in an attempt to dab away the tears.

As the cuff slipped away from him, Lance let out a soft curse and grabbed for the handkerchief in Keith's pocket before dabbing at the man's face, unable to think of anything else to do. "Look on the bright side, Keith, I'll bet your soulmate will worship the ground you walk on." The lie was through his teeth, but he said it all the same, and a part of him wished it were true. "And you'll love them. And it'll be great. So... don't cry over my bad choices, please."

Because you'll probably end up crying more if you knew the truth.

At first, Keith was sure he had imagined it.  He was sure that it was a trick of the blue and red flashing lights that streamed through the windshield.  But there was that click in his head again, that feeling of rightness that permeated his confusion, and the noirette felt the earth tilt, felt the air burst from his lungs.  Because there it was. His mark.  But not his, because it was on Lance's wrist.   Wh...what is...why....  His eyes blew wide, and it felt like the world around him faded like air sucked from a flame.   Lance is…

To be honest, with how things had been going in the past few hours, it wasn't that surprising.  As all the pieces fell into place, the light, the clicking in his head, the pain he felt at Lance's words, it all made sense.  Wonder and shock filled his senses. And then anger shattered it all away. He knew. Lance knew!  And he still said those words, still gave Keith that pain, still lied to him , right to his face.  "You--"

His words cut short, Keith watched as the brunet unhooked Keith's seatbelt, and pushed at his chest.  Before the noirette could even say anything, the door behind him opened and he went tumbling out, ass over feet to land in a sprawled out mess on the pavement.

"Uh...whatcha doin' there, Keith?" came a voice from above him.  He let his gaze slide up to the person standing just a few inches away, their visage upside down, hand still on the door handle.

Keith only sighed.

"Hey, Hunk."