Jesus Christ, I'm so hungover. Lance groaned as he rolled over onto his back, squinting as he opened his eyes to harsh light. The first thing he noticed was this was not, in fact, his bed. Nor was it his room. In fact, Lance didn't recognize the space at all. 

He frowned as he slipped out from under the blankets, padding over to the window to look outside. This wasn't even the right district. He pressed his palm to the windowpane and shivered, recoiling. He wasn't used to the cold- the Pixie district never snowed, as it was basically a giant greenhouse, and even the sight of the falling flakes made him shiver. Where the hell was he?

Lance tried to think back to the night before. He and Allura, his fellow pixie and best friend, had gone out into Central Square to go shopping and had somehow ended up in a club. Lance could recall the thumping base of the music and the sweaty bodies plastered against his.

He'd left the fray of the dance floor, leaving Allura, who was dancing with a few mers, to her own devices as he ordered a few shots of Dew, the only Pixie alcohol he'd recognized on the menu. 

Just as he'd downed his first shot, he'd heard a gentle, smooth voice whisper in his ear. "Hey."

Alarmed, he'd turned, only to be met with red eyes framed by long, thick lashes. A vampire. 

Lance was pretty sure he'd squeaked or made some other unpleasant honking noise, but the man's lips just slid into an easy smirk. 

"Have you ever been with a vampire?" the man had asked, his eyelashes fluttering innocently.

Lance coughed, blinking hard. "Pardon?"

"Oh, you are cute. Come spend the night at my place, gorgeous."

Lance knew that that was something he didn't want. Flirting was okay, but that was out of the question with a stranger. 

"Uh, no thank you," 

The vampire's eyes had grown a bit harder, squinting a bit. "C'mon, pretty one. Let's go." And suddenly, there was a vise-like grip on Lance's wrist. 

Lance opened his mouth to call for help, but suddenly, the vampire's eyes went wide, his whole body shrinking down as he backed off. "He said no."

The voice had come from behind Lance, but the pixie didn't dare turn. The vampire let go of Lance's wrist and scurried away, leaving Lance and his savior alone at the bar. 

Upon turning, Lance nearly toppled backward. The young man who stood before him was stunningly attractive (except for the mullet) and his pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the bar. 

Lance recognized him instantly. The infamous Keith Kogane, leader of the Blade of Marmora, a group of vampires that acted as the police force in the four districts of the city. He was just about the same height as Lance, but his presence was powerful and strong. 

Lance managed a small wave. "Thank you," he managed to say. 

Keith looked at the pixie with dark, red eyes, his composure calm and serious. "It's not a problem...?"

"Lance," the pixie hurried to supply.

"It's not a problem, Lance," Keith replied, hand outstretched. Lance shook hands with Keith slowly, a little bit in awe.

He hiccupped. The Dew had hit him hard. 

"Are you here alone?" Keith asked, scanning the dance floor.

Lance shook his head, sneaking another shot. "No. I'm with Allura." he felt a little drunk already.

"Allura?" Keith asked. 

"My friend," Lance said, pointing vaguely in her direction. 

Keith sighed, shaking his head and laughing a little. He leaned forward and caught Lance's chin between his fingers, bringing their faces close together. "You pixies really can't hold your liquor, can you?" he asked rhetorically. 

Lance felt his face flush. Keith's deep eyes were gorgeous this close up.

"I'll call her a cab for when she's ready to go, but if that vampire is here, that means the rest of his gang is too. I'll get some of the Blade to come check it out, so she probably won't be staying for very long anyway." 

That was all that Lance remembered. Everything after that, he couldn't place. 

The room was nice, he guessed. It was pretty barren, though. Just the basics. Lance decided to go find the owner of the room and demand to know where the fuck he was. 

Lance stepped out of the room and peeked down the hallway. There was a stairway to his left and a few more rooms to his right. From here, he could hear the sounds of soft jazz playing from downstairs, so he chose the left.

Upon entering the kitchen, Lance saw one of the strangest sights he'd ever seen. Keith Kogane, shirtless, wearing boxers and an apron as he flipped pancakes on a flat griddle on the counter. He was humming along to the jazz that played over the speakers in the room.

Lance slowly entered the kitchen, looking at how spotless everything was, how state-of-the-art it seemed to be with its island in the center and its pots and pans hanging on a rack above the sink.

Lance cleared his throat and Keith barely even flinched, flipping another pancake before turning around to view Lance.

"Good morning," he greeted smoothly, nodding at Lance. "How are you feeling?" 

Lance yawned, "I'm okay. Is this your house?"

Keith nodded, then held out a plate of steaming, fluffy pancakes. "Breakfast?"

Even though the pancakes did smell amazing, Lance shook his head. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I really should be getting home. Are we far from the pixie district?"

Keith shrugged, "Half a mile."

Lance nodded, "I'll walk. Thank you for everything, Mr. Kogane."

Keith turned, going back to his pancakes. "Door's to your left."

Lance turned and went to open the door, but was met with a solid bank of snow. Lance immediately slammed the door shut, terrified that the huge bank would fall on him, and locked it just for good measure. 

"Keith?" He called.

Keith peeked his head out from the kitchen doorway. He smiled. "Pancakes?"