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Sometimes, boring is just enough. Besides, being special is overrated.

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It's not a good or bad day. There is nothing special about this particular Wednesday night.


There is no momentous occasion, nothing that will change the world.


The closest to unique part of today is the fact that it is 20 degrees in April.


The morning was ordinary, noon was bland, the evening was grey, and the night was quiet.


Shakespeare wouldn't be inspired, Freddie Mercury wouldn't be excited, Carrie Fisher isn't looking down.


This night is nothing but that. A night.




Lance grinned as he pushed through the glass doors of Altea Gym.


This was his place. Away from the traffic from the busy streets, the stuffy polluted air that he no longer has to suffocate in. The grey gym to others was a silver savior to Lance.


This is his place.


Lance waves to the familiar man at the front desk, "Good Afternoon, my mustache man!"


"Same to you, Lance!" Coran said in a regal accent with a wink. He isn't British, but he sounds like it. He isn't Irish, but he looks like it. Whenever anyone asks where he is from, he just winks and smiles.


Lance swears he's from outer space but his friends think he's crazy for saying that.


He walks around the corner, seeing old, usual, faces running on treadmills and stair machines.


There are a few new people. A lady working with the trainer who looks like she wants to pass out, a man struggling to find the coordination to throw a medicine ball at the wall. 


Lance sees a group of teenagers fucking around on the ellipticals and ending up tripping in a synchronized fashion. They all end up groaning on the floor while an employee yells at them.


He smirks, That's what you get.


Lance finally arrives at the blank doors by the basketball court. He smiles and looks up at the crooked red words that read 'gym'.


Yelling, Lance throws open the doors and walks in, "Jesus Christ has entered the building!"


He waits a second for people to turn around before he hears laughs. Lance grins at them, wiggling his eyebrows. A crowd of about thirteen gather around him, all friends or familiar faces.


The group of people all clap for him and he bows, "Thank you, thank you all."


Lance sighs as he straightens at the waist, "I was expecting a bigger crowd, maybe a cake. But this will do, I guess."


The crowd laughs again and slowly disperse.


Lance walks to the wall on the left and starts to set his stuff down. He takes his bag off his shoulders and takes his water out. Taking a sip, he begins to unzip his jacket, revealing a tank top underneath.


He is interrupted before he can take off his sweatpants that cover workout pants.


There's Linda, the middle aged mom learning volleyball so she can play with her 10 year old daughter. Lance rushes over, hugging her tight, "Linda! Ah, it's been too long. With me being in Cuba and you having work, its been what, a month?"


She laughs and hugs back, "It has been a while. I expect many pictures after practice."


"Yes ma'am." Lance grins and salutes her. Linda smiles and walks back to where she was warming up.


Lance stretches out his arms. Hooking one behind his neck he rocks back and forth on his feet. He was anxious, but so fucking excited to be back on the court.


He sees Hunk approaching him and shakes out his arms.


This guy has been Lance's best friend since he moved to America in 8th grade. Hunk plays volleyball for fun, mostly because he and Lance played together as a bonding exercise.


"Hunkalicious, my beautiful man, how's your Momma?" Lance says, moving in for a huge hug.


Hunk smiles and brings Lance in close, "She's good. Mad because she couldn't pick you up from the airport, but she's good. I'm a little mad too, who picked you up?"


"Don't worry about it, Veronica came with me and we called her girlfriend Axca to drive us. Vero wanted so bad to see her girlfriend and I had to watch them give heart-eyes for the whole ride." Lance groaned, but smiled when Hunk laughed.


Hunk stepped away and saw Lance's baggy sweatpants, "You wearing your spandex?"


Lance blushed, "Not today, but I got some yoga pants I stole from Vero on so it'll be fine."


Hunk just rolled his eyes.


Then came Pidge, who had her arms crossed and a grin on her face. 


Pidge he met in college. She's four years younger, but has the wisdom of someone forty years older. She only started coming when Lance and Hunk would drag her out of the dorms from a lack of being social.


She's not the best player, but shes a damn good strategist and a good enough setter. Plus, her and Lance have a shit ton of set attacks so they play great together.


Lance mirrored the devilish look and said, "Sup my little Pidgeotto."


Pidge rolled her eyes, but she still moved forward and fell into Lance's arms for a big hug.


"Look guys, the Pidgeon actually missed me!" Lance yelled, a few regulars smiled fondly as Pidge slapped his arm.


Lance hissed in pain and glared, "Wow, you're just going to attack me. In my house too? The disrespect is hurtful, but not surprising."


Pidge just giggled with a devious smirk.


He drinks some more water when she walks away. He takes off the baggy sweatpants to reveal the yoga pants.


They're great for moving around, Lance always reasons.


Lance moved to stretch his calves on the bleachers. He felt at home when he saw his friends, his family, setting up the net and warming up together.


He takes a deep breath in. The smell of sweat and basketballs is comforting. The beige walls with red pads along the sides are so fucking ugly but so inviting. 


This is the place he loves. This is his place.


Lance just feels at home.




"Keith I swear to god-" Shiro said exasperatedly, head in his hands as his elbows rest on the table.


"God isn't here Shiro!" Keith screamed, slamming the door to his room as he stomped away. The sound was loud in the silence that followed.


Shiro sighed and dragged his hands down his face. He sits alone in the dimly lit kitchen, wondering when everything got so bad.


It all started so great, they were doing fine.


This was before Adam, Shiro thought, But he left and it's all Keith's fault.


Shiro may have won, but he doesn't feel like a winner. He stands up, grabbing the dirty dishes off the table and reluctantly begins to wash them.


The warm water stings a little, and Shiro almost feels like he deserves it.




What he had done destroyed all of Keith's defenses, breaking down everything till he won.


Shiro scrubbed the plates, trying to conserve water by hand washing them instead of using the dishwasher. He took this time to think, think about what he had done and what he would do now.


Keith had been so pissed, but then again, he hadn't been very good at ever stopping Shiro. Keith cannot complain, he let Shiro play him.


Sighing, way more than a man his age should, Shiro dried the last glass off, setting it in the cabinet. He cleans the counters, putting the leftovers in tupperwares and in the fridge for the next few days.


When he's done, he grabs his phone. Hoping that maybe Keith had cooled off enough to even talk. He also was wondering if Adam had drifted too far off already.


Keith hadn't.


Adam neither.


Grumbling all the way to his bedroom door, Shiro rolled his eyes and knocked on the door.


"I don't want to hear it, Takashi!" Keith hissed from behind the door.


"Please Keith, you knew the rules when you played me!" Shiro had to bite down his smile so it wouldn't be heard when he talked, "It was just monopoly, your dumb ass just had to bet something!"


"Ugh!" Keith screamed into a pillow before throwing the door open.


Shiro was standing, a shit eating smirk on his face as he stared down at his disgruntled little brother.


"I won fair and square, Keith, and now you have to pay the consequences." Shiro said in a no-good tone, the glint in his eyes gave him no comfort.


Keith crossed his arms, "You probably don't even remember what we bet."


"Ooh, trust me, I do. Especially since you basically robbed Adam of every last paper dollar. He was so sad that he fell asleep without cuddles." Shiro was out for revenge, and Keith was scared.


"Look, you're the one who made the bet. You owe me three favors whenever I want them. Be ready bro, cause I have no more sympathy for you."


"Not even a little?" Keith pouted, hoping to soften Shiro's resolve.


Shiro just glared, "Did you not hear what I just said? Adam went to bed without cuddles. You'll be lucky if I don't ask you to let me smack the shit out of you."