st. patrick's day

There was beer.

There was a lot of beer, in fact. There had been multiple cases and perhaps even a keg, so far as Keith could remember. He should know how much beer there was, because he was the one who had actually had to buy it. The total had been somewhere in the double digits. Twenty sounded like a good number. Which meant something like four cases a pilot, but not really because Hunk could knock back a glass like it was water, and Sven was there with his higher tolerance, and Allura had managed to get away from Nanny long enough to get a little 'tipsy' and start stripping. Keith thought that she was currently trying some of Hunk's 'special' brownies and would soon start streaking through the forest to commune with nature. At least, he hoped she would, because Keith really didn't want to be the only one to do that after eating Hunk's doctored food.

He wondered if there was anymore beer left.

In a supreme act of will, Keith managed to lift his head off of the kitchen table and wipe away the drool that formed a sticky string connecting his cheek to the table. He counted four other bodies in the kitchen in various stages of drunkenness. That probably wasn't good. Keith couldn't think of a good reason as to why in particular that wasn't good, but he was vaguely aware that it had something to do with Doom and Voltron and the image of a robeast and a decidedly drunken Voltron fighting. Although, if that happened, they could get lucky and cause the entire Doom armada to die from laughter.

Still, Keith didn't really want to risk fighting while drunk--and he doubted he could put up with the noise from his lion and all flashing buttons.

In another incredible act of will, Keith managed to get into a standing position. He took a moment to regain his balance, before proceeding onward in search of something that could sober him up. Or, failing in that, finding Lance, because if he had to fight a battle drunk, he'd rather fight it with a drunken Lance, if only to take his mind off of his impending death by watching Lance make a fool of himself while heading to his own impending death.

Lance made a fun drunk.

And Keith desperately needed to feel happy.


There was a rain bucket outside and Keith decided that it would probably do to sober him up. Gripping the iron bound rim, Keith dunked his head into the cold water. He opened his eyes once underwater, marveling at the dark moss that grew at the bottom. His chest was starting to feel tight and Keith wondered if that might be a bad thing.

His head felt light, and he had to breathe. Keith opened his mouth, and water filled him, slightly metallic in taste like the air inside of his lion. His chest stopped hurting and there was just a dead weight instead and light was around him and Keith was starting to realize that maybe he should get out of the water before something happened that he couldn't reverse.

But instead he just slipped down further until he could see his hair waving in the blue-black light of the water.

Then a pair of hands gripped his waist and heaved and he emerged from the rain barrel in a shower of cold and pain and instead of metal in his mouth he tasted the tang of blood and dusky leather. Coughing, shuddering, more sober then he really cared to be, Keith fell to the grass, shoulders shaking as he expelled water and bile and a little blood. Long fingered hands rubbed his back, and a thick warmth descended on him, wrapping him up in heavy comfort until he stopped coughing and could roll over to lie on the grass with the heather cushioning his wet hair and his eyes blinded by the slowly setting sun.

That was when Lance started in on him. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What the hell do you think you were trying to do Keith? Drown yourself?"

"Nope. Just sober up." Keith coughed again, and turned his head to smile at Lance, inwardly pleased with the concern in Lance's eyes. "Hey, you're not drunk."

"Yeah, I thought somebody should stay sober just in case Doom decided to attack. I'm surprised you didn't decide to do so as well."

Keith shrugged, ignoring Lance's biting comment. He didn't really want to think about his responsibilities right then. "Well, shit, that means my math is off. See, I calculated how much each of us drank mathematically so I could get an average so I could know how many cases to get next year and I had us down for two cases between the both of us."

"Sorry. I had two bottles. The rest of it was all you."

"Shoot. Now I feel even drunker."

Lance laughed softly. "I wouldn't call you exactly drunk right now. It's more like mildly inebriated."

Keith grinned and propped himself up on his elbows. "Really?"

"Keith, you're trying to figure out the average beer consumption of each team member. I wouldn't call you sober, but you're not exactly drunk either."

"Good." Keith let his smile widen and propped himself up further, turning until he could clearly see Lance lying beside him in the soft grass, face lit by the golden glow of a dying day. "I want you to remember that."


"Because I want to have sex with you."

Lance blinked and sat up, surprised by the request but not entirely displeased. "What, right now?"

"Well, yes. And then later, too. Hopefully on a regular basis."

"You want a fuck buddy?"

"Oh no. If I wanted just that, I'd take Allura up on her offer. No, I want a relationship. Hopefully one with you."

"I see." Lance lay back down. "I don't think so, Keith."

"Why not?"

"Because you're drunk."

"No I'm not. I'm only 'mildly inebriated.'" Keith rolled over further until he was completely on his side and he could use his free hand to brush Lance's cheek. "I'm serious here, Lance."

"So am I. You're drunk and horny. You don't want to have a relationship with me and I don't want to be a fuck buddy."

"Lance, I'm not drunk." Lance snorted and Keith sighed. "Fine. I'll ask you tomorrow."

"No you won't. You only want to have sex with me when you're drunk. it's a documented thing, Keith."

"Whatever. I'm going to ask you tomorrow." Keith stood and brushed down his pants, a little more depressed than he had been before. "Look it's getting late. We should probably go back in."

"All right." Lance stood as well and slung his arm around Keith's shoulder. "Ten bucks says Hunk and Pidge are playing 'Find the Nipple Ring'."


"Happy St. Patrick's Day, Keith."

"Happy St. Patrick's Day, Lance."

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