Chapter Text
Keith didn't love his job per say. But Sal always catered to his availability and had given him enough raises over the years for Keith to feel loyal to Sal's Pizza. The building might've been a little too cramped for his taste. It might've smelled like the cigars Sal promised his wife he'd stopped smoking back in '89, but after two years of doing homework in Sal's office (a former supply closet) and perfecting his sauce spreading skills, Keith considered the shack a second home.
However, Saturday nights like these were Keith's least favorite shifts. Keith hated working Saturday nights so much that he told Sal to never put him on the schedule or he'd tell his wife about his unhealthy secret habits. Hunk need a cover, though, and Hunk never needs a cover. His co worker explained his bind Friday night during closing. Hunk's best friend told him about a last minute frat party, so he really needed a cover because he was positive this was a surprise party for him. Positive. So, Keith offered to take the shift off his hands.
One hour and 40 pizzas into the night, Keith was regretting his decision.
"Kogane, wanna switch to delivery?"
Keith's head whipped up from his thick crust pepperoni (light sauce) pizza to see Sal peering over the counter. "Kinda busy, why can't Shay deliver?"
Sal chuckled. "You know she can make 'em faster and better than you. Blindfolded. Come on, kid, hand over the apron."
"Screw you, Sal, you know I've been working on my dough flipping," Keith said, bringing the apron over his head and tossing it to Sal. "And I hate making deliveries."
"I know. You've got four pepperonis and two cheese to take out in two minutes. Here's the address."
Due to it being early September, the late night rose to the edge of blistering hot. And due to his car being old as hell, the AC didn't work. Keith's only solution was to roll down all the windows and pray for God to cut him some slack. Once parked by the vibrating, glowing, and scary frat house, Keith struggled to carry six pizzas to the door stop. Using his foot, Keith rang the door bell and huffed in impatience.
A childhood friend opened the door. Takashi Shirogane. "Keith! It's good to see you!"
Keith gratefully let Shiro burden the weight of the pizzas after he paid the bill. "LANCE! You lost the bet, you gotta cover the tip! Thanks, Keith." Shiro said before sauntering off with his pizzas.
For a few seconds, Keith just stood there, wondering if he'd ever get his tip or even his hearing back. The music inside was so loud, he couldn't even tell what song was playing. After a few more embarrassing moments, an attractive (but very drunk) boy stumbled to the door.
"Waaait, I'm here!" Lance chuckled to himself and pondered over Keith.
Will he ever get his tip?
"Hey, you look familiar. Do I know you?"
"No."
"Ohh, no. I would definitely remember a face that cute," Lance argued, pointing a finger at him.
Is this guy serious?
"Just keep the tip..." Keith grunted, heading back to his car.
"Hey, wait!" Was this guy following him? To his car?
Keith waved his hand towards the fraternity. "Just go back inside. It's fine."
"Noooo, Mister..." Lance eyed Keith's name tag. "Keithy Boy. I've got you tip right here."
Oh, god. Lance started to lean in, but Keith was not getting kissed from a stranger tonight. He kept inching away until his back hit his car. Lance kept getting closer and closer until...
Shit. Not his car.
Lance hurled into the back seat of Keith's car and crumpled to the sidewalk. Keith couldn't help but cringe. How was he going to get that out?
Coughing and wiping you-know-what from his mouth, Lance groaned. "Holy crow, I'm sorry, Keithy Boy."
Keith didn't know what to say. Definitely not "it's fine". So he lifted Lance from the ground and pushed back his hair so he could see better.
"Uh... you okay now?"
"Yeah, I'm all good." Lance started to wobble back inside before turning around to say, "I'll call you later." He attempted a wink and walked back to the house.
What the actual fuck?