Work Text:
Lance is a modern-minded alpha and he’s doing well in their little pack. He doesn’t pick fights with the other alphas, he hasn’t scent-marked anything outside his own territory on the Castleship and the sting to his pride when he is still outclassed by Keith in basically every aspect of their lives as Paladins has nothing to do with the fact that Keith is an omega and everything to do with the fact that no matter what Lance does he can’t seem to catch up.
Still, occasional bouts of crippling insecurity aside, it’s nice now that their rivalry isn’t entirely one-sided. Keith will compete with Lance seriously despite the skill-gap, and he’ll tease and joke around in his own very Keith way. And Lance can’t deny that they’re close friends and teammates now and if he’s still entertaining late-night fantasies of more. Of being good enough for Keith to look at him like he wants him…well, that’s between him and his bedroom walls.
Of course just because they’re friends that doesn’t mean he’s prepared to walk into the Blue Lounge one day to find Keith curled up on the sofa there reading the only novel they have on the Castleship (Pidge’s battered copy of Harry Potter).
But there he is.
He’s tucked under Lance’s throw blanket, spooning around the pillow off Lance’s bed, and for once he’s barefoot and wearing pajamas.
Lance has to blink a couple of times to make sure he’s not hallucinating. But no, that mullet is unmistakable and so is that unique leather and almond-oil scent.
“Are you coming in or what?”
Lance takes a few steps into the room before it clicks.
“You’re in heat!” he accuses.
Keith goggles at him before hissing, “How can you even tell that, it’s suppressed!” sounding completely scandalized.
“Even if I couldn’t tell from your scent, this, this is a nest!” Lance snaps back, because honestly he’s not an idiot.
Except maybe he kind of is because Keith half-buries his face in the pillow and turns beat red from the back of his neck up to the tips of his ears, and it’s only just hitting Lance that this is a nest.
Keith, an omega on his cycle (suppressed or not), has made a nest almost entirely out of things that Lance has scent-marked, in a room that is acknowledged by all the alphas on-board to be the epicentre of Lance’s territory on the Castleship.
“Oh,” he says faintly.
Cause Keith has got to know that even to a modern-minded alpha this little display is a pretty bold if somewhat old-fashioned declaration of feelings, and intent.
“Now do you get it?” sighs Keith, who reeks of embarrassment but hasn’t let go of the pillow.
“You could have just said that you like me,” Lance points out making his way cautiously closer to the sofa.
“Fucking embarrassing,” Keith groans, his voice muffled and his face hidden.
Lance crouches down next to the sofa and reaches out a hand to touch Keith’s shoulder, nuzzling cautiously at the warm, red-tipped curve of his ear.
Keith reluctantly exposes one eye and tries to glare, it’s such a soul-meltingly adorable expression that Lance can’t help the grin that stretches his mouth in response although he tries to cover up the true extent of the meltification by shooting Keith some finger-guns
“I like you too, y’know, I wouldn’t get up at six for physical conditioning for just anyone.”
Keith graces him with a snort and a smile and tentatively lifts the corner of the blanket in invitation. And even though Lance is apparently slow on the uptake he’s really, actually not an idiot. Nor is he about to look this gift-horse in the mouth right this second. So he shucks off his shoes and jacket and climbs inside Keith’s little nest and lets the omega octopus himself around his lanky frame and prop the book up on his shoulder.
“What part are you at?”
“The Quidditch World Cup.”
And Keith starts to read Harry Potter out-loud while Lance lets his eyes droop to half-mast listening to the rise and fall of his voice and rumbling out a noise of pure alpha contentment.