Why Keith Isn't Allowed To Drive A Car
Part I

It was a calm day on Arus. Thanks to someone actually figuring out how to make a defense system work there hadn't been much call for Voltron and the Voltron Force were taking the time to catch up on some more mundane variations of work. For most, that meant filling out paper work and updating insurance claims. But for Keith, whose analness had left him bereft of paperwork, that meant something else entirely: his long over due drivers test. Which was why he was now standing in the mechanical bay beside a rather large car that seemed a throwback to 1950's America and the land-barges. Lance, who was the only member of the Voltron Force that had a driver's license and was free to teach Keith how to drive, had a jaunty air to him. After all, the back seats in these land-barges were notoriously large.

"Do we really have to do this?" Keith asked in an almost whine.

"Well, unless you prefer to go galloping about Arus on a white horse (without a saddle or bridle, mind) and foster Allura's notions of fairy tale endings, than no. We don't have to do this."

Keith grimaced, remembering what exactly riding horses did to his more sensitive parts. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll learn how to drive."

"Good." Lance slid into the passengers seat. "Hope you don't mind learning how to drive stick."

Keith blanched and slowly sat down behind the wheel. "Stick? Why can't we use automatic? The less things I have to work with the better."

"And you're one of the people piloting the lions?" Lance grumbled. "Well, don't worry. We'll be taking back roads so if you flood the engine we won't have to worry."

"Flood the engine?" Keith gulped. Lions he could handle. Small, maneuverable space crafts he could handle. Machines with buttons and levers up the wazzu he could handle. But this? It was insane! Sighing, Keith pulled the key out of his pocket. Using a complex pattern of hand movements and sweeping gestures, Keith prepared to start the car. "Insert keys. All systems are-"

"Keith. This isn't your lion. Just put the key in and lets go."

"Oh. Right." Feeling mildly foolish, Keith turned the key, starting up the car with a low purr--and tore out of the Vehicle bay like a bat out of hell. Lance, who hadn't bothered to put on his seat belt, flew into the back seat with a startled yelp.

"KEITH! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" he yelled over the rushing wind, while trying to get back into the passenger seat.

"WHAT? WHAT SPEED AM I GOING? IT SAYS 150. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?"

"150! THIS CAR CAN'T GO 150! STOP! STOP!"

"STOP? OKAY!" Keith slammed on the breaks. Lance flew forward and slammed into the windshield.

"Ow..."

"Lance? Are you okay? You know, you really should put your seat belt on," Keith said in a concerned tone.

"Seat belt. Right." Slowly straightening from the contorted mess that he had become, Lance sat himself down in the relative safety of the passenger seat and buckled in the seat belt. "Right. Okay. Lets go. Only, slower. Much, much, slower."

Keith nodded, and started up the car again, edging forward in small spasmodic leaps.

"You can go a little bit faster than that," Lance added after the fifth such jerk. Keith nodded again and actually began to drive smoothly. "Good. Very good. Now, lets head towards that road right there."

"You know," Keith began conversationally, turning his head to look at Lance. "There's a lot of people who call the passenger seat the death seat. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Keith! Watch out for that tree!"

"What? Oh!" Swerving hard to the right, Keith narrowly avoided the large, thick, painful-if-run-into tree. "Now why did they go and put something like that here?"

"Because this is a bloody forest, that's why!" Lance sighed and surreptitiously looked for some sign that the passenger seat had an air bag. "Great. The one car on this bloody planet that doesn't offer dual air bag seating."

"Hey Lance, there's a fork in the road."

"Already? Well, take the left fork."

"Left?"

"Right."

"Right?" Keith questioned.

"No, left."

"Make up your mind!"

"What do you mean?" Lance asked blankly.

"First you say left, then you say right!"

"I meant correct."

"Oh. So, which is it?"

"Left."

"Left."

"Right." Lance nodded emphatically. Keith looked at him oddly, then shrugged and took the right fork.

"What they hell do you think you're doing, Keith? I said left!"

"No, you said right."

"I meant correct!"

Keith laughed. "Silly, there is no correct. There's only left or right."

"Ahh!" Lance buried his face in his hands. "Lord, why me? What did I do to deserve this?"

"Hey Lance, what do I do if there's a dip?"

"Avoid it if possible."

"Um...I don't think I can avoid this one."

Lance looked up, eyes widening in fear as he observed the steep, shale covered gully that loomed before them. "Turn around! Turn around!"

"How? Which peddle to I push?" Keith asked, flustered. His foot hit the gas peddle and sent the car lurching down the gully at a breakneck pace, rattling and bouncing, throwing the inhabitants of the cab around like little human shaped jellos. Lance's scream of fear followed them down, as he realized that this was merely the beginning of the driving lesson.

***

Several hours later, the car limped back into the mechanics bay. Keith emerged with a stretch and a grin. The lesson hadn't gone nearly as bad as he had thought. There were even some enjoyable bits, like when the car actually flipped over. Or when they had driven on two wheels so they could go around a cliff. Of course, Lance's screaming hadn't been so pleasant, but he had shut up sometime during the breakneck race with a landslide. In fact, he had only whimpered when the car ran down several trees.

Hunk, who had been waiting nearby just in case the car caught on fire, winced at the damage that had been done to the nearly indestructible vehicle. In fact, as he watched, the tires finally gave in to the beating they had taken and deflated, and the engine dropped through the metal frame and onto the concrete floor.

"So, how' d it go," Hunk asked.

Keith shrugged. "I don't know. I think I did pretty good, even if Lance kept saying something about how making Lotor drive with me would end all of Arus' troubles. At least Lance is still alive. My last driving instructor had a heart attack."

"Well that's something at least." Hunk peered into the car's cab at the trembling Lance, whose grip on the dashboard had actually left dents in the plastic. He gulped. "Lance? Hey Lance? How you doing buddy?"

Lance refused to move. Keith frowned in worry. "Hey Lance? Are you feeling all right? Maybe you should go get some rest. After all, I want you in good shape for my lesson tomorrow!"

Fin.

Moral of the story? Todesengel should never write at midnight.

Why Keith Isn't Allowed To Drive A Car
Part II

Keith turned the ignition key slowly, wondering once more why the hell he was in this thing again anyway. After all, who went around driving in cars anymore anyway? There were so many more interesting and ecologically safer methods to be had now. And yet, for some stupid reason, driving a car was still a requirement in the GG. He could fly, wasn't that good enough?

"Okay, Keith, check your mirrors."

Sighing, Keith did as he was directed and looked over at his instructor for the okay. He supposed he could understand why they had insisted Sven teach him this time--after all, Lance still had screaming fits every time he saw something that even vaguely resembled a car. Still, he couldn't understand all the comments about Sven being the only one who could possibly survive such an assignment.

The shiny, new, black corvette hummed pleasantly beneath him. It almost sounded like a cat. Keith smiled. Maybe if he just pretended that this was just his Lion he'd do better. Besides, he liked black. Black was a good color. It went with everything, and could describe so many things and if this tangent got any longer he'd have wasted enough time that going out driving wouldn't be a viable option. Yeah, right. Like Sven would let him get away with that.

"Ready?"

Keith nodded and clicked his seat belt in.

"Hey." Hunk tapped on the window, then leaned down to glare at Keith. "You hurt the 'Vet and I will hurt you, understand?"

Keith swallowed and nodded.

"Good. Glad we understand each other. Go get 'em, Tiger."

"Get who?" Keith blinked, confused.

Hunk sighed. "Never mind." He glanced across at Sven. "Good luck, buddy. We'll have the 'medics waiting here for you."

"Oh come on, my driving isn't that bad."

"Yes, it is. Now get going." Hunk stepped away and crossed himself, murmurring a quick prayer along the lines that Keith wouldn’t put the car in reverse and hit the half-repaired lion that currently took up most of the space in the mechanics bay. Keith slowly moved the gear shift down into drive, silently thanking whoever had made this car for making it automatic. He pulled smoothly out of the landing bay and onto the roads.

Well, this isn't so bad. Actually, this is sort of fun. Hey, I wonder why the numbers on that dial go up to 450. What is that thing for, anyway?

"Okay, Keith, what speed are we going at?"

Keith shrugged. "How would I know?"

"Well, you're the one driving. Check your speedometer."

"My what?"

Sven sighed. "The dial that tells you who fast you're going. The one that goes up to a hundred."

Keith looked down at the dashboard, searching for a dial that only went up to a hundred. "Sorry, Sven, I can't find one."

"Keith! Watch the road!"

"What?" Keith snapped his head up and turned the wheel hard to avoid hitting the fence that ran alongside him.

"Damn it, Keith, don't ever look away from the road when you're driving."

"But you're the one who told me look for the speed-whatsit."

"You're supposed to keep you head up when you do that."

"Oh. Okay. By the way, I still don't know what you're talking about. The only dial I found with lots of numbers was the one that goes up to 450. And the little arrow-thingy is pointing to the 200 mark."

"What?" Sven leaned over and looked at the dashboard, eyes widening slightly as he saw that Keith was, indeed, correct. "Okay. Well, we're going a little fast, so what say we slow down."

"How do I do that?"

"Hit the brake pedal." Sighing at Keith's blank look, Sven amended his statement. "The one on the left."

"Okay." Keith felt around with his feet for the pedal and hit the first one he found as hard as he could. The car stopped with a sudden lurch and the engine made a distinctly unhappy grinding noise. Sven jerked forward, an inarticulate noise coming from his throat as his seat belt cut into his neck. "Like that?"

"Yes, but next time make it smoother. We didn't want to stop. Just slow down. Now, why don't we go on."

"Okay." Keith tentatively tapped the gas peddle, sending the car moving once more down the road. Beside him, Sven sighed and leaned back into his leather seat, rubbing his temples and mumbling something that sounded vaguely like "don't kill him, don't kill him".

"Now what?" Keith was rapidly growing bored with just driving down the flat stretch at a reasonable sixty miles an hour. He thought it best not to mention their speed to Sven.

"Now, we're going to turn into that circular area over there and practice your turning."

Panic flared up in Keith's breast. "Turn? I don't know how to turn! No one said anything about turning to me!"

"What did you think we were going to do, Keith?"

"I don't know! Maybe practice parking? Stop? Go back? Not even have a lesson?"

"Keith..."

"Fine." Keith pouted. "So. How, exactly, do you do this 'turning' thing?"

Sven cast his eyes heavenward, silently asking for strength. "Well, basically, you just turn the wheel in the direction you want to go and speed up slightly as you go around the 'hump' of your curve."

"All right..." Keith stuck his tongue into the corner of his mouth and turned the wheel. Hard. While stepping on the gas peddle. Equally as hard. The car spun around and around and around, like that old amusement park ride where centrifugal force kept you stuck to the walls so you could barely move and if you ever threw up it was forced right back down your throat.

"Stop! Stop! Stopstopstopstopstopstopstopstop!" Sven clung to his arm rests with a white knuckled desperation, yelling the command.

"I'm trying," Keith shouted back, hauling the wheel in the other direction. The car shuddered and, with a screeching whine, skidded to a halt. Sven sat perfectly still, breathing heavily and a pale, sickly grey-green. Keith grinned broadly, the adrenaline pumping through his veins like a drug. "That was fun! Lets do it again."

"Keith. Get out of the car." Sven's voice was too calm. Keith knew that calm. It was the dangerous type of calm. It was 'post pit-of-skulls' calm. It was the 'you-have-five-seconds-before-I-do-something-totally-insane-What-will-you-do-What-will-you-do?' calm.

"What?" Keith looked over at his friend in confusion, blinked at the shining, oil-slick gun barrel pointed at his head.

"Get out of the car, Keith. Now."

"Okay." Keith unbuckled at got out. Sven slid over into the drivers seat.

"We're going back. Get in."

Keith shrugged and did as directed. Sven slowly turned the wheel and headed back to the Castle of Lions. A sort of pall-like silence descended between them. Keith waited for as long as he could, before speaking up.

"So. When's my next lesson?"

The muscle beneath Sven's right eye twitched and he mumbled something incoherent about blood, but other than that the Swede was silent, hunched over the wheel and driving with the utmost concentration. Keith sighed and reached over to flick on the radio. When Sven got like this, there was no telling when he'd speak next.

Wonder what made him so mad?

* * *

Hunk winced as the corvette pulled in. It seemed he was doing that a lot every time he saw a car pull into the mechanical bay. He could see the stress marks on the once gleaming metal, see where the poor thing had been pushed past its endurance, and he sighed. He really hoped Sven hadn't shot Keith inside the car. Blood was damn hard to get out of leather.

The 'Vet slid to a halt, coming to a rest with the soft pinging of metal. The driver-side door opened and Sven stepped out, the muscle beneath his right eye twitching. He walked stiffly over to Hunk and held out his gun. Hunk sighed and took it.

Damn it. Now I have to go get another bottle of 'Blood-Begone'(tm).

He grimaced and walked over to the passenger side, fully prepared to drag out Keith's dead body and find a nice, deep lake to dump him into. So, when Keith got out alive and well, Hunk was surprised to say the least.

"Hey Hunk! Sorry about the car." Keith was whistling some infectiously happy tune as he bounced over to Sven. "So, when are you going to go take me driving again?"

The tick increased and Sven just turned and walked stiffly away, muttering strange, dark things to himself. Keith turned back to Hunk, a confused look in his eye.

"Was it something I said?"

Fin.

Moral? Boredom is a bad thing. Boredom and an overly active muse are a very bad thing.

Why Keith Isn't Allowed To Drive A Car
Part III

Pidge nervously fastened his safety belt, wondering again why he was doing this. After all, he had seen what had happened to Lance and Sven and they were made of sterner stuff than he. He just hoped that he had finished his will; and that his bug would be able to withstand Keith.

That pitying look Hunk had given him when he had climbed in certainly wasn't helping his sense of well being.

"Ready?" Keith was beaming and that made Pidge even more afraid than he had been before. Not trusting his voice, the small boy just nodded and closed his eyes, praying to every possible deity he had ever heard of.

The car began to move.

Pidge froze and forgot how to breathe.

"Y'know, you don't have to act so tense, Pidge. I happen to think that I'm a very good driver."

"Based on what evidence? You put your last two instructors in the psych ward. You've totaled two cars. I think you'll have to forgive me if I'm a little tense."

Keith snorted. "Whatever. Look, you're going to have to open your eyes if I'm going to learn anything."

Pidge shook his head vehemently. "No I don't. All I have to worry about is surviving. I'm leaving the dodging of all potentially lethal and or damage inflicting objects to your discretion." Pidge swallowed, voice taking on an almost pleading quality. "Just...try not to hurt my car too much, okay?"

Keith sighed. "Why does everybody think that I'm going to wreck your car? Honestly, we all need to work on our Trust skills here."

"Oh no, it's not that we don't trust you, Keith. It's just that we don't trust you near cars."

"Gee, thanks for the distinction." Keith lapsed into silence and Pidge gave a small sigh of relief. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Pidge really should have known better, though, for the moment he had that thought, Keith cleared his throat and asked in a voice filled with hesitation, "what should I do about objects that can inflict harm that move as well?"

Pidge opened his eyes. "Huh?"

"There's a flock of sheep."

"Oh." Pidge blinked. "Well, then just wait for them to move."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I expected them to move first and we can't stop the car in time."

Pidge sighed and looked out the window at the fast approaching herd of sheep. They all seemed to have slightly confused expressions as to what the small green bug was doing speeding toward them, but it may have just been Pidge's imagination. The small boy braced himself for a spectacular crash.

He wasn't disappointed. The car hit the first sheep just as Keith braked in a nervous, last ditch effort. The car flipped over and hit the rest of the flock, sending a flurry of red and white up into the air.

Then the car burst into flames.

Pidge unbuckled himself and pulled off his helmet. The interior of the car slowly faded away, returning to the more mundane surroundings of the V.R driving model Pidge had built to teach Keith. He turned to glare at his pupil, who was holding his helmet with a rather embarrassed expression on his face. Smoke was some how improbably rising from the engine of the model. Keith's door fell off with a loud clang.

"Oops."

"Oops? OOPS?! Keith, you managed to make the car explode. I specifically programmed this damn thing so stuff like that couldn't happen. You're either the universe's worst driver, or someone tampered with the program."

Keith shrugged and smiled. "Ready to give it another go?"

Pidge shook his head and stepped out of the model. "No. No way. You're going to...to...well, I don't know what exactly you're going to do, but it's going to involve the wreckage of another car. You managed to wreck this car and it's a fake!" He snorted. "Now that takes talent."

"So how'd it go?" Hunk placed a comforting hand on Pidge's shoulder. The small boy glared up at the larger mechanic.

"He destroyed my car, Hunk. I think I'm going to go to the medical wing now. If I'm around him much longer I may have to shoot him just to put the both of us out of our misery."

"That bad, huh?"

Pidge gave a maniacal laugh. "Oh you'll see. He's all yours, Hunk. He's all yours."

Then the young pilot stumbled off in search of a sedative--or perhaps a martini.

Fin.

Moral? Keith just shouldn't be allowed anything even vaugely car like. Ever.

Why Keith Isn't Allowed To Drive A Car
Part IV

Keith was smiling.

Well, no, it wasn't really a smile. It was more of an insane grin. The sort that Hunk imagined his uncle George had on his face when they carted him off to the loony bin.

But it wasn't the smile that frightened Hunk, because he could deal with smiles. No, it was the car keys that hung on a swaying chain below Keith's hand. Looking at the small bits of metal, Hunk felt a chill wind pass through his soul; it was as though he looked into his yawning grave. None of the preparation that he had done could have possibly prepared him for this day and not even the thought of the emergency break he had installed on the passenger side of the car could bring him comfort.

"Ready to go, Hunk?" Keith bounced up and down, grinning madly, car keys jingling.

The large mechanic sighed and nodded slowly. He opened the door to his faithful old '87 Toyota van and slid in. As he turned to put on his seat belt, he saw Sven, Lance and Pidge, dressed in mourning black and holding flowers.

The image was not comforting. After all even though he knew--or at least thought he knew--the truth about Keith's abysmal driving skills, the sight of his three friends already mourning for his untimely end didn't sit too well with him.

Keith started the car and stepped on the gas, neglecting to remember that the car was in reverse. It was only quick thinking--and an even quicker foot--that saved Hunk's van from ramming into one of the lions. The three already scarred pilots scattered in fear, diving behind specially prepared shelters.

The van bucked for a moment, before shuddering to a stop. Hunk carefully turned his head to look at Keith, who grinned sheepishly.

"Oops."

"'Oops'. 'Oops' he says." Hunk shook his head in disgust, and took a deep, calming breath. "Okay. So, lets try that again, shall we? Now, put the car into drive, Keith."

"All right." The engine stalled for a moment before turning over, sputtering and vibrating with that particular surliness that comes to old, abused cars. "Let's see, the gas is on the right?" Keith slammed his foot down, and for a moment the car squealed in protest, the smell of burning rubber and over-heated fuel filling the cab. The van shot forward, careening wildly about the hanger; then Hunk gently eased down on the special brake he had installed and the vehicle settled down to a more leisurely pace. Keith frowned. This was not a good sign.

~~~

To say things weren't go per usual was something of an understatement. In fact, things couldn't have been less normal if Keith had planned it.

The problem was that it was all the small things that were off. And unfortunately, much of Keith's strategy depended on the small things. For example, instead of the normal feelings of fear and desperation that radiated from the passenger's seat whenever Keith drove, Hunk actually seemed to be enjoying himself. He was even--dare it be said?--whistling. He bet Hunk wouldn't have been so confident if that break wasn't there.

"Turn right here." Keith followed Hunk's finger, gunning the gas as he went. Hunk kept his foot on the brake and the van gently rounded the curve despite Keith's best efforts. Keith almost screamed in frustration. "Now bear left."

"Right frog." Keith gave Hunk his most innocent grin and turned the wheel to the right.

Hunk rolled his eyes and reached over, correcting Keith's 'mistake'. "The other right, Keith."

"Oh." Keith rolled his eyes, then swallowed as Hunk took his hand off of the wheel and placed it on Keith's thigh. "Hey Hunk--"

"Turn right here." The fingers were beginning to do strange things that were starting to make Keith uncomfortable.

"But--"

"And another right."

Okay. There was definitely some kneading going on down there and, while Keith couldn't say that it was all bad, it was definitely making the whole driving thing a little more difficult than originally planned. Especially the parts that where supposed to make Hunk gibber in fear.

"Hunk, what--"

Hunk's hand began to drift upward, fingers dancing along the suddenly hardening length that was currently tightening Keith's pants. It was infuriating; it was aggravating; it was irresistible, and undeniable, and breathtaking, and distracting and wonderful and tempting and erotic and--oh God, they were in his pants. The fingers were in his fucking pants and there was much stroking and--was Hunk singing "Like a Virgin"?

"Take a right again."

"But--"

The fingers squeezed slightly and Keith had to bite his lip to keep from moaning out loud--or creating a wet spot that would be a bitch to explain. Oh boy.

"Now put the car into park."

Keith's hands were shaking as he followed Hunk's command. The hand left his pants and he almost wept. "Hunk..."

"Keith, we need to have a little talk."

"Yeah. Sure. Just--can we go back to the stroking thing? Please?"

Hunk chuckled. "In a minute." The hand went back down and Keith whimpered in joy. "First, I just need to know one thing: You aren't really as bad at driving as you pretend to be, are you."

"No. I just--it gets boring sometimes. I mean, you have to admit, it is fun to see Lance and Pidge and Sven cringe whenever I jingle a pair of keys. Could you do the squeezing thing again? I liked that." Keith looked over suddenly, fear momentarily outweighing his lust. "You're not going to tell them are you? Please say you won't. I'll do anything."

"No. I don't think so." Hunk went back to the touching thing and for a long moment the only thing Keith could do was pant and want. Hunk smiled--evilly some would say, but Keith was really in no position to say anything at the moment--and let his captain have his moment. Then he bent in close, mouth right next to Keith's flushed ear and whispered, "the seats in the back can go horizontal."

Keith looked at Hunk with an expression bordering on wonder. "Really? Then what the hell are we waiting for?"

Hunk grinned and pulled Keith into the large rear of the van. He grabbed Keith's shirt and pulled up, attacking the pale flesh with sucking kisses. Keith groaned in the back of his throat, needy hands fumbling with Hunk's belt. The smell of sex and want quickly filled the van, exciting the two boys even more.

Forgoing the chairs, Hunk backed Keith into the wide trunk, pushing the thinner boy down onto the carpeted floor, covering Keith's soft, wet noises with his mouth. Somewhere along the way to the back, they had both lost their clothes, but Hunk didn't want to think too much on that. All he wanted now was to fill this need that came from deep within him. His mouth began to travel downward and Keith arched back.

"Wait." The soft word stopped Hunk hold and now it was he who wanted to scream. "This isn't going to be a one time thing, is it?"

Hunk looked up into Keith's velvet eyes, muscles trembling as he held himself back. "No. Don't worry. I think you're going to have several more 'driving lessons'."

"Good." Keith smiled and placed his hands on Hunk's curly hair, gently pushing downward. Hunk took the hint and--well, suffice to say that by the time he was done, there were more then a few very confused forest animals; and two very happy space explorers.

-Fin.

Moral? It's always a good idea to keep a tube of lube in the car.