Chapter Text
“One coffee, please. No, wait, make that an espresso. Do you do double espressos?”
The waiter raises an eyebrow at Lance, probably judging the dark rings below his eyes. He nods without a comment, though, smiles, and turns to walk back behind the counter.
“Long night?” Tan asks, not looking up from his menu.
“Well, sort of.” Lance yawns and grimaces. “Not what you think, though.”
Tan raises his eyebrows over the edge of his menu and bats his eyelashes at Lance. “I wasn’t thinking anything, sweetheart.”
It had, in fact, been really harmless. After Lance and Hunk devoured their pizza while watching Hot Fuzz, they decided they should also watch Shaun of the Dead. Then they somehow managed to get into an argument over the best characters to play in Super Smash Bros – Lance will stand by Yoshi until the end of time – and then they ended up playing video games until four in the morning. They had quarreled and chatted until five before Lance finally got into bed.
Tan had notified him that evening that he would pick up Lance at ten for breakfast, so Lance had set his timer for half past nine. He had pushed the snooze button until Hunk had shaken him and screamed “Tan is here, hurry up!” and Lance had scrambled down the stairs, viciously pulling at the zip of his jeans.
Tan hadn’t said anything, just grinned widely at him and Hunk. Whatever that smile was, Lance didn’t really like the implication of it.
They are now sitting in a small café that is located right in city center. It is – cute. Dainty. Lance just can’t think of any other word to describe it. Everything is painted white and pale blue, the plates and cups and small pots are mismatched and in the background jazzy upbeat music is playing. At this time of the day the café is almost empty safe for a couple of mums with their babies sitting in the back, chatting away happily while drinking tea from flowery cups.
“Do you know what you want?” Tan asks.
Lance glances at the menu again. He hasn’t heard of eggs Benedict before, but there are eggs and avocados involved and that sounds amazing.
“Yes, I think I’ll try this,” Lance says and points at his menu. “Whatever that is.”
Tan leans over and nods. “Great choice, I think you’ll like it.”
Lance puts his menu down and looks over at the counter. The waiter is busy making their drinks at the huge and expensive looking coffee machine. There are plates with cakes and jars filled with cookies and brownies and other sweets that Lance doesn’t know pilled all over the counter. Lance’s gaze, however, catches on the display of cupcakes. Rows and rows of cupcakes, from plain chocolate and vanilla ones to the more outlandish oreo ones. The sign above the counter says that the cupcake of the day is a red velvet strawberry cupcake.
The waiter comes over and brings their drinks. “Are you ready to order?” He asks with a smile and whips out his notepad.
“Eggs Benedict for the young man here, and french toast for me,” Tan says, handing the waiter the menus back.
“Coming right up.”
For some reason Lance has the feeling that the waiter’s gaze lingers on him for a second too long, but before he can think more on it, he is gone and disappeared into the kitchens.
“What do you think of this place?” Tan asks, taking a sip of his latte.
“It’s cute,” Lance says, looking around him. “I didn’t know we had anything like this in Plath.”
“I was surprised, too, you now. When I was looking up cafés around here I came across this and I thought, as a Brit, it is my duty to take you here.”
Lance takes a sip of his double espresso. He almost chokes from the bitterness, fighting back the urge to spit it out immediately.
“Oh, is it too hot?”
“No,” Lance coughs, “just bitter. But at least I’m awake now. Anyway” Lance takes another sip and shudders while Tan laughs at him. “This is a British café?”
“Yeah, I think it belongs to a chap from London. They serve cream tea in the afternoon. Perfect for a date.”
Tan bats his eyelashes at him, and Lance scowls. “I try to remember that. Whatever that cream tea is.”
“You’ll love it, I promise.”
Lance doesn’t say anything but takes another sip from his espresso. The bitterness is still there, but it’s less violent than the first time. He smacks his lips. The espresso makes his mouth dry. He should probably order some water.
“So,” Tan says and puts down his latte. “Let’s have a chat. About your situation. Your clothes situation.”
Lance winces. “You know, since you’ve said my clothes are all way too short, I can’t unsee it.”
“That’s good.” There is definitely something of an evil glint in Tan’s eyes. Lance decides right then and there that Tan is someone to look out for.
“When’s the last time you bought any clothes?”
Lance opens his mouth to reply, but finds that he doesn’t know the answer. Across from him, Tan props his elbows on the table and gives him an expectant look.
“I don’t know,” Lance says honestly.
Tan nods. “Just what I thought.”
“Hey, my clothes aren’t that bad!” Lance protests. He clutches his shirt (a vintage Queen) protectively. He knows his wardrobe is kinda off these days, but he still feels like he needs to defend some of the old pieces that served him so well over the years.
“I’m not trying to be rude,” Tan says and holds up his hands. “It’s just that, as I mentioned already, most of your clothes don’t fit anymore, like you kept them from when you were a teen. And they look like something a teen would wear.”
Lance eyes Tan warily, still holding onto his own shirt. “I think there is nothing wrong with this shirt.”
“And I have to say, I really do like this one! But it’s just not your size.” Tan takes another sip from his drink and sighs. “Look, Lance, you are a young man in his twenties, I’m not suggesting you should dress in a pair of khakis and tartan jumper” - Tan actually visibly shudders at that mental image, and Lance can’t help pulling a face - “but wouldn’t you feel more like yourself wearing something that fits and complements you? As far as I can see, nothing you have in your wardrobe or on your frame does either of those things.”
Lance takes a sip from his espresso and furrows his brow. Not because of the bitterness in his drink, but because of the bitterness of the truth. “I guess you’re right.”
“I know I am,” Tan says with a bright smile, and Lance rolls his eyes.
The waiter comes back with their orders, placing their plates in front of them with a flourish.
“Enjoy,” the waiter says, but Lance doesn’t really listen. He looks at his plate, unable to repress a little sound of awe. He suddenly realizes that he is ravenous, so he takes up his fork and knife and digs in.
“This is amazing!” Lance exclaims. The toast of his eggs b
Benedict is just the right amount of crunchy, not soggy at all. The avocado has been pureed and spread like butter underneath the poached egg (Lance never had poached egg before but he decided that it is the best way to eat your eggs). The hollandaise sauce is thick and creamy, complementing the egg-avocado combo nicely. When Lance cuts into the egg, the egg yolk oozes out, and he quickly cuts a piece of toast and dips it in there before shoveling it into his mouth. “This. Just this. So good.”
Lance can’t help make all sorts of appreciative noises throughout his breakfast. Tan giggles through all of it, making only slow progress on his french toast.
“So, I guess you’ll be coming back here at some point?” Tan asks when Lance finishes his last bite of toast.
“Definitely,” he says. He extends one finger and drags it through the remainders of the hollandaise sauce. He licks his finger and smacks his lips. “You think I could do this at home?”
“Absolutely! Antoni would love you forever if you asked him to help you makes this.”
Lance leans back in his chair and smiles. He feels a lot better after some caffeine and a good meal. He even thinks he can take on whatever Tan has planned to throw at him today.
“Can I’ make a suggestion?” Tan asks.
“Suggest away!”
Tan puts down his cutlery, puts his elbows on the table and places his chin on his hands. “Could it be that the last time you bought clothes – or maybe even anything at all – was before you went to space? Before Allura died?”
Well, Lance had been ready for a lot, but not for that.
Maybe because he knows it’s true and he doesn’t want to ponder why it’s true.
But then he remembers the conversation he had with Bobby yesterday. And Hunk. And the promise Lance made to Tan on that very first day. He knows that he needs to be honest. He knows that he needs to face his demons. It’s just a lot easier in theory.
Lance feels this familiar automatic reaction build in his shoulders and neck, his muscles contracting and making him lower his head and stare at the empty plate in front of him.
“Yes,” he says to the table. From the corners of his eyes, Lance can see Tan nod.
“I think the last time I bought anything for myself was before we found the blue lion,” Lance says. He doesn’t know what makes him say this, what urges him on to be so open and honest, but he just takes it in his stride and keeps on talking. “I mean, we had other things to worry about when we were Voltron.”
“Naturally,” Tan agrees.
“And then, I don’t know… I didn’t get around to it? I didn’t feel like I needed anything? I didn’t feel like I deserved it? I mean there was a huge shortage for a while...but also...well...after Allura died...”
Lance’s voice breaks of. Tan reaches out and gently places his hand on his wrist. He must have noticed the shift in Lance, a sudden realization, connecting the dots to show Lance the picture of a life after death that Lance had been living up until now.
“I think,” Tan says, voice gentle, as if not to startle Lance out of his seat. “I think you are holding on to the past. Both physically and mentally. I think you are holding on to a version of yourself before everything that happened.”
Lance keeps staring in front of him, eyes unseeing. It’s suddenly so clear his head begins to swim. He is only faintly aware of Tan rubbing his thumb over his pulse point.
“I do not want to suggest that you should forget about everything – and everyone – to move on. On the contrary. But you also have to realize that it is important to move on and live your life. And, even though I have met you literally two days ago, I have to say it pains me to see such a bright young man like yourself so sad.”
Tan’s voice actually hitches at the last few words, and Lance whips his head up. Tan’s face is sad, genuinely sad, and Lance can’t help but feel dumbstruck at that. How can someone who knows him for an overall amount of a few hours care so much so quickly?
“I’m not saying that clothes are everything. They certainly aren’t. But I believe that we often hold onto physical things because they represent something for us. Clothes are just one of those. I want you to shed those protective layers of yesterday and take a step into today. You think you can do that for me?”
Lance’s mouth hangs open a bit. Even if he wanted to, he can’t do anything but nod. Tan’s face instantly brightens and he lets go of Lance’s wrist. Lance can still feel the warmth and compassion tingling on his skin. It feels foreign in a way that he is sure it shouldn’t.
“Great,” Tan beams at him and sits back in his chair. “So today we are going to take care of that one step in the right direction.”
“Right,” Lance says a bit dazed.
Suddenly the waiter is back at Lance’s elbow and picks up their empty plates. “I hope you liked your food?” he asks.
“Splendid,” Tan says.
“Yeah,” Lance says, remembering his manners. “It was fantastic, thank you.”
The waiter beams at Lance, who remembers to smile back.
“Can I have another latte, please?” Tan asks, then gives Lance a Look. Lance doesn’t really know what that means, but he sure as hell could use some water after that double espresso.
“And some water for me, please?”
“Anything for you.”
Lance blinks. Did the waiter just...wink at him?
The waiter is gone again before Lance can react in any way, the tails of his crisp white apron flying behind him.
Tan leans over the table, his mouth agape. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know,” Lance says truthfully, still very much confused when the waiter comes back and places the drinks in front of them, flashing Lance another dashing smile.
“I think he likes you,” Tan says, stirring his latte and giving Lance a look and face that just screams gossip girl.
Lance takes a big gulp of water and stares into the glass. This was definitely too much for one sleep-hungover morning. And Tan’s prolonged gaze on him makes the tips of his ears go all hot. He quietly sips his water, avoiding Tan or the waiter that he can feel hovering somewhere behind him.
Lance searches his brain frantically for something to say to distract Tan, but before he can do that the waiter is back at their table.
“These are on the house,” he announces, placing plates in front of Tan and Lance with a flourish.
“Cupcakes?” Tan squeals and claps his hands together. “Whatever do we deserve this for?”
Lance stares at his plate. Sure enough, they both received today’s special, the red velvet strawberry cupcakes that Lance had been eyeing earlier.
“Well, er...I’m a huge fan,” the waiter says. Lance whips his head up. The waiter, however, is looking at Tan, clutching his notepad and pen to his chest while nervously brushing a stray strand of blond hair behind his ear. “Would you be so kind and sign this for me, Mr France?”
“Oh my gosh of course,” Tan says and reaches for the notepad. “Always pleased to meet a fan! Especially when they give me cake. Which isn’t necessary, but I appreciate it a lot.”
They both laugh, Tan signing the notepad and even posing for a quick selfie.
“Thank you so much,” the waiter, who turns out to be called Darren, says. “Your show actually inspired me to go back to college.”
“That’s so lovely to hear!”
Darren beams. “You know, living my best life. Thanks for that.”
Tan cocks his head to the side, his eyes going soft. They exchange meaningful glances, and Lance can see the emotion bubbling up behind Tan’s eyes. Lance got a taste of that just the day before at the restaurant, and he can’t help but feel just as pleased to hear that Darren seemed to be inspired by the work of the Fab Five.
“Anyway, sorry to bother you,” Darren says, seemingly shaking himself out of his fanboying-intermission and going back to professional waiter-mode. Before he leaves, though, he turns to look at Lance. “Enjoy your cupcake.” There is that glint in his eye and that smile again. Lance can’t help but stare at him, completely forgetting to thank him before Darren vanishes into the kitchen again.
“What a nice lad,” Tan says, picking up his fork. “This looks delicious!”
Lance looks down at his own plate, feeling a bit guilty. “I don’t think I should -”
“Nah-uh, Lance, life is too short to say no to free cake. Or to say no to cake in general. Life is too short to refuse cake, period.”
As if to emphasize his statement, Tan cuts a big piece of cupcake with the side of his fork and shoves it into his mouth. The noise he then makes is downright obscene.
“Oh my gosh,” he says around a mouthful of cream.
Lance can’t really argue with Tan’s logic, so he takes his own fork and cuts himself a piece of cupcake. The explosion of flavors that hits his tongue are making his eyes roll back in his head. He closes his eyes and just enjoys this for a moment. The sponge of the cupcake is soft, chocolate and strawberry mingling and fighting for dominance, but not in an unpleasant way. There is also a hint of something else, like vinegar, but coupled with the cream on top that adds just that hint of sweetness it complements the sponge perfectly.
“This place,” Lance says, his eyes till closed, “is my favorite.”
“I agree,” Tan says and shovels more cake into his mouth. “I’m just glad Antoni isn’t here. But, honestly, after we left the camps, I decided that I’m going to indulge in the small pleasures of life, and cake is one of them.”
Lance stills in his motion to haul another bite of cupcake-goodness into his mouth. He lowers his fork, unsure of how to approach that topic.
“Was it bad?” he eventually asks.
Tan looks up from his almost empty plate. There is cream smeared on his lower lip and somehow it reminds Lance a lot of his niece, Nadia.
“Was what bad?”
Lance hesitates. “The work camps.”
“Oh, those.” Tan eats the last bit of his cupcake, wipes his mouth with his napkin and puts his fork down before he continues. “Yes, they were. But not for the reason you think.”
Lance furrows his eyebrows. “Care to explain?”
“The work was hard, I’m not gonna lie about that. But we managed. The bad thing was that we all knew that we were building weapons to basically destroy ourselves. Working on your own destruction every day is hard.”
Lance swallows. He didn’t know that before. Just like the Galra – and that thought makes him want to throw up in his mouth – he thought that everyone was unaware of what they were doing in the camps. It didn’t make them any better, but knowing that you are working towards your own death every day is a thought that shakes Lance to the core.
“But you know what was even worse for me?” Tan continues, his mouth set in a tight line. For the first time since he picked up Lance at Hunk’s place, Tan averts his gaze. “The worst thing was not knowing what had happened to my husband.”
Tan visibly swallows, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, messing it up a bit. “It was agony to not know where he was. Whether he was still alive. We hadn’t been in the same state during the siege due to work, and as communication was none-existent no one knew how much destruction the Galra had rained upon earth. We didn’t even know whether we were the only work camp or not. We were so closed off. The thought of seeing him again kept me alive, the thought of not seeing him kept me awake at night. It was a good old fucking Schrödinger’s cat, that whole business.”
Tan huffs a laugh at that, trying to lighten the mood again. Lance manages a weak, empathetic smile in return.
“But I kept going. We all kept going. I was not the only one having lost someone during the siege. Some had it way worse.”
Tan’s eye glaze over, his gaze going distant. Lance can see the barely repressed pain behind them. He can see, all too clearly, the destruction and loss and sadness, the loneliness and defeat. Things he has seen on so many planets, on the faces of so many species. Things he has experienced all too closely himself.
Lance opens his mouth to say something, but Tan’s eyes snap back to the present and at him. “You are not gonna apologize, are you?” he says with narrowed eyes.
Lance guiltily closes his mouth again. Tan sighs and flops back in his chair.
“As I said, it was horrible. I still have nightmares sometimes. I guess I’m not the exception for seeing a therapist these days. However,” and he leans forward again, fixing Lance to the spot with furious eyes, “We prevailed. Because, if anything, humans are stubborn in their belief that everything will turn out fine. We always got hope, even in the darkest of times. And look where we are now.”
Tan makes a grand gesture with his arms, indicating everything in the tiny posh café and beyond. “We all fought, and we all got through it. With Voltron, we managed to be free again, Without Voltron, we would have found a way as well. I believe in that.”
Lance stares at Tan. For some reason, the thought that earth would have, just possibly, found a way to take back their planet without Voltron, even if it sounded absurd, keeping in mind that the Galra were so much advanced in their tech – it soothed him. It soothed him to imagine a fight for freedom that succeeded in it’s own right. It soothed him to know that Tan believed in humanity so strongly.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate what you and the other paladins did. You are heroes, and will be forever. No one can take that from you.”
Lance nods, looking down at his half eaten cupcake, fork still poised against the rim of the plate.
“Thank you, Tan,” he says. “Thank you for staying strong.”
When Lance looks up Tan looks floored. He definitely didn’t expect that. He is speechless for the first time that day, and Lance can’t help but feel a bit smug about that. He flashes Tan a smile, a small, genuine one, and hopes that Tan gets what he means. Tan’s answering smile is small, but Lance can see gratitude written all across his face.
They look at each other for a moment, then Tan shakes himself and waves a hand at Lance’s half eaten cupcake.
“Enough of that, eat your cupcake so we can get a move on and make you look more gorgeous than you already are!”
Lance rolls his eyes but complies, shoving that neglected piece of cake into his mouth and humming appreciatively.
There is, however, one thing that Lance really needs to know before he can enjoy the rest of his very decadent breakfast.
“Did you…find him again? Your husband?”
Tan’s face brightens. “Oh yes, I did. And I don’t intend to let go of him anytime soon.”
With that information, Lance is finally able to fully enjoy the rest of his breakfast.
He gathers up every last bit of cream on his fork, unwilling to let even the tiniest bit go to waste. A small dollop lands on the table next to his plate, and Lance hastily takes his napkin to wipe it away. In the process he nudges the plate to the side and finds that there is a piece of paper under it.
Lance cocks his head to the side, takes the plate and peers underneath it.
Tan, who had been preoccupied with finishing his latte, straightens up and peers curiously at the folded paper. “What is that?”
Lace shrugs, takes the paper and unfolds it. Then he immediately feels his face go hot.
Call me if you want to grab some coffee ~ <3
Darren
Tan gasps. “Is it what I think it is?”
In one swift motion Tan reaches out and snags the paper from Lance’s hands. Lance splutters, unable to say or think anything coherent.
Tan reads the note and gives a high pitched squeal. “Lover-boy Lance! Turning heads left right and center!”
“Give that back!” Lance hisses, snatching the paper from Tan. He can practically feel his face going the color of a very ripe tomato.
“I wasn’t going to steal it,” Tan says, holding his hands up.
“That’s not what I mean,” Lance stage-whispers. “Can you please lower your voice?”
“Shy, are we?”
Lance mumbles some profanities under his breath. Tan just cackles.
Right at that moment, Darren walks past Lance. Their eyes meet for a moment, Lance feeling his face go impossible redder when Darren winks at him again.
“That Darren sure is living his best life,” Tan concedes and takes the last sip of his latte.
~*~
Lance stands in the middle of the shop, empty except for him and Tan, gazing at the rows and rows of clothes, cameras whirring to and fro his head.
The shop is called Second Love, and as Tan explained when they entered, it is a ‘vintage-slash-second-hand-slash-upcycle’ store and they have a lot of stylish and ‘young and hip’ pieces, as Tan put it. “You are not fifteen anymore, but you can still pull off some stuff I can’t anymore,” he said, patting Lance on the shoulder.
If Lance is completely honest, he feels lost and a bit intimidated by the sheer amount of clothes surrounding him. He hasn’t been in a clothing shop for quite some time (well, years, as it turns out), and he is surprised that there are actually still enough ‘old’ clothes around to sell as vintage pieces. Either that, or the definition of vintage has drastically changed in the last five or so years.
The shop itself is located in an old warehouse; one that, judging by the black and purple interior, once belonged to the Galra. It is a bit of a chilling thought, but then again, Lance feels a kind of childish glee at the thought of turning a Galran warehouse into something as fundamentally human and mundane as a clothing store.
“So,” Tan says, popping up in front of Lance and clapping his hands together like he means business. “Are you gravitating towards something?”
“Er, well,” Lance says, looking around frantically. There are rows and rows of colorful shirts to his right, tightly packed onto several rails on several levels; then there are denim jeans and skirts and dresses to his right; just behind Tan, he can spot jackets of all sizes and variations.
“Jackets,” Lance says. He steps around Tan and darts for the rails. It seems like the safest option, as there don’t seem as many rails in total. And Lance has to admit that he does like a nice jacket.
“Yes,” Tan says, drawing out the ‘s’. He sounds a bit surprised by Lance’s choice, but he follows him closely anyway.
When Lance stands in front of the denim jackets, he feels lost again. He just stares at them, unsure of what to do.
Tan seems to sense his discomfort and starts pulling out a few pieces. “Do you like denim jackets?”
“Er, I think,” Lance says, reaching out and touching the hem of a lighter piece. There is a round, red patch on the sleeve that caught his interest. “I think I never owned a denim jacket before.”
Tan’s gasp of indignation makes Lance jump. “Lance! Everyone needs a good denim jacket in their closet!”
Tan reaches over and pulls the jacket Lance has looked at from the rail. He holds it out in front of them and studies it with furrowed brows.
It’s light blue, with a few more patches here and there. Lance immediately notices that the colors are the same as they had been for Voltron, plus a NASA patch sewed to one of the front pockets.
“I like it,” Lance says.
“It’s a bit big, though,” Tan muses. Lance’s heart sinks a bit. “But I think we can either make it work as an oversize or tailor it to your size.”
Lance smiles but has to wonder at the prospect of having his clothes tailored for him. “Isn’t that expensive?”
“What, tailoring? Small adjustments are actually not that expensive,” Tan says, throwing the jacket over his arm. “It depends, but I’d say taking in a bit to slim it down doesn’t cost more than ten dollars, and that’s money well spent, let me tell you.”
“Yeah, doesn’t sound too bad.”
“So, tell me, when you look at this jacket, what would you style it with?”
Tan looks at him expectantly, and Lance panics. He can literally feel the sweat forming on his forehead. He doesn’t know why, but for some reason Tan’s look reminds him a lot of his elementary school teacher, Miss Ham. She was a sweet-looking person, but she was strict.
“I don’t - I mean,” Lance splutters and frantically looks around the room.
“Don’t panic, there is no right or wrong,” Tan says, putting a soothing hand on Lance’s shoulder.
Lance takes a deep breath and tries again. He looks down at the denim jacket in Tan’s arms and thinks.
“Simple white t-shirt, black trousers and white sneakers?”
“That sounds good!” Tan says, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Simple, classic, but really stylish. I know you had it in you.”
Tan turns and walks straight over to the shirts. “Come on, let’s get that!”
Lance follows Tan, and they manage to find a simple white shirt and a pair of black trousers. They are not so lucky in finding white sneakers that fit Lance, but he manages to find a pair of Nike’s with red and blue stripes that fit. Tan gives his blessing even though he feels a bit skeptical at first, but as he says, “We want to find something that works for you,” so Lance is given free reign in that aspect.
“We’ve got one outfit already!” Tan says, holding up the pieces triumphantly. “I’ll just put them in the changing rooms for you, I’ll be back in a tick.”
With that Tan is gone, and Lance is left next to a rail with all sorts of Hawaiian shirts. This first success of shopping has left him with more confidence than before, and he idly flicks through the shirts.
Then, without warning, something wraps around his side and squeals in his ear.
“Lance! Long time no see, old friend!” Coran exclaims.
Lance yelps and almost topples over. Coran’s Altean strength doesn’t allow that, though, and he squeezes Lance to his chest. Lance suddenly finds breathing very difficult.
“How long has it been? Must have been ages!” Coran says. He doesn’t let go of Lance, so Lance flaps his arms around to get his attention.
“Air!” he squeaks, and Coran immediately lets go of him.
“Right, sorry!” While Lance catches his breath again, Coran holds him at arms length and smiles down at him sagely.
“What the quiznack are you doing here?” Lance coughs out. He stares up at the much taller man, surprised by his sudden, stealthy appearance, and at the same time happy to see his familiar face.
Coran tuts, probably because at the use of the Altean obscenity, but then grins widely. “I am here to help you find the perfect clothes for the upcoming celebrations!”
Lance raises a skeptical eyebrow at him, but Coran is unperturbed. He lets go of Lance and twiddles the end of his bright orange mustache. “Yes, my dear boy, as one of Altea’s most exquisitely dressed bachelors, I have been invited to help out a friend in dire need of some fashion advice!”
“Were you now,” Lance says flatly. He can’t help but notice Coran’s combo of what he must assume to be ‘earth fashion’: bright pink shorts, a baby-blue shirt with tiny bananas printed all over, and an angler hat. It is a horrible sight to behold, but at least everything fit him just fine.
“Of course,” Coran says and puffs out his chest a bit. “I’ve been personally recruited by Tan France.”
Lance really doubts that.
“Coran!” Lance whips around to see Tan rounding the corner, his arms outstretched and surprise written all over his face. Lance looks back at Coran and wonders whether he has really been asked to join them or whether he just likes to hog the limelight.
“Tan France!” Coran exclaims, throwing out his arms. “I’m honored to be here today!”
In his usual exuberant manner, Coran grabs the much smaller Tan by the shoulders and places a kiss on each of his cheeks. Tan looks decidedly flustered and runs his hand nervously through his hair when Coran releases him again.
“I thought I was going to introduce you,” Tan says, looking over at Lance.
“So you did invite him to help me shopping?” Lance can’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.
“Well,” Tan says, and he looks sheepish. “He volunteered. We – and your friends – thought it might be good for you to have them help you out.”
“Coran? Helping me out with fashion?”
“Do I hear doubt in your voice?” Coran booms. “I’ll let you know that I have been elected the most fashionable engineer on Altea back in my days.”
It shows, Lance thinks.
“The point is,” Tan interjects, “that your friends want to help you. And I think it is important for you to accept that help, in whichever shape it comes.”
Tan’s eyes are pleading. He doesn’t really know why because, if Coran decided to help him out, he’s going to help him out. Lance sighs and points his weary gaze at Coran, but stops short from saying anything. All the jovial exuberance has left his face. He looks so earnest, and so much older that Lance suddenly wonders how old Coran actually is – compared to human years, that is. In any case, Coran’s eyes are so honest and caring, Lance is remembered of the time they spent together in space. Coran had always been a constant in his life, in all of their lives, during their time in space, at the castle of lions, and way beyond. If anything, he was the most loyal of all of them, and doubting that Coran had nothing but his best intentions to help Lance in mind would be an insult.
Coran places a hand on his shoulder, strong and reassuring. “Let’s do this.”
Lance smiles up at him. “Okay.”
Next to Lance, Tan exhales in relief. Coran’s grin comes back to his face. “Excellent! Because I think,” and with that he pulls a shirt from behind his back, “that this is going to look fantastic on you!”
“Absolutely not,” Lance says at the same time that Tan says, “Are those chicken legs?”
~*~
It was difficult to talk Coran out of the hideous red shirt with chicken legs printed all over it (how the devil that was deemed to even be produced Lance was still despairing over), but eventually Tan had managed to persuade him to go and wander the shop with Lance.
Lance and Tan were quietly going insane by Coran managing to find every hideous item in the shop and trying to talk Lance into at least trying it on. Some of the more memorable items were a bright yellow cowboy hat, a cropped pink t-shirt that said ‘Babe’, a collection of horse-themed neckerchiefs, and a flowery skirt.
“Come on, it does look nice!” Coran had wailed, swishing the skirt enticingly in front of Lance’s face. It wasn’t so much hideous as it was just not an item of clothing he deemed appropriate for himself.
“It’s for girls, Coran. Men don’t wear skirts on earth.”
“Well then they should!” Coran said, holding the skirt up to himself. “Just imagine how free you would feel wearing nothing but-”
“Too much info!” Lance had said and stalked to the opposite side of the shop.
But Lance has to admit that Coran had also found some gems among the heaps and heaps of clothing. He’d found a pair of denim trousers with small but stylish embroidery on each side of the legs, a vintage Queen shirt that was Lance’s size, and a pair of shoes that were maybe a bit garish for Tan’s liking, but Lance had loved them instantly.
Tan had also supplied a heap of clothing, but had never tried to talk Lance into something he absolutely didn’t like. Buoyed by his first find, Lance had browsed the shop more confidently and selected a few items himself.
Standing in the spacey changing room, clothes upon clothes hung up around the walls and piling up on the small chair in the corner, Lance has to admit that he once again doesn’t know where to start.
“Tan!” he wails.
Tan pokes his head into the changing room. “Yes dear?”
Lance makes a grand gesture with his hands. “I have no idea where to start!”
“There there, we’re going to sort this out,” Tan says and steps inside. His eyes quickly scan the items strewn around, then he swiftly picks up the denim jeans that Coran had found and a simple red t-shirt.
He thrusts them into Lance’s hands. “Try these with the Nike’s,” he says, grabbing a stray cheeky camera on his way out.
Lance quickly changes into his new outfit. The jeans feel a bit baggy, but the shirt is nice and soft against his skin.
“You ready?” Tan asks.
Lance steps outside, nervously picking at the hem of the shirt. Tan grabs him by the shoulders and turns Lance to face the mirror.
“Look at you! Doesn’t that feel a lot better?”
Lance examines himself in the full-length mirror. The man looking back at him looks uncomfortable, but the outfit does look nice on him. His face relaxes a bit when he realizes that the jeans aren’t as big as they seemed at first. Maybe that’s because he is not used to wearing anything that actually fits him.
“I just would...” Tan murmurs and falls to his knees, rolling up the hem of Lance’s jeans. He straightens up again with a satisfied look into the mirror. “Much better! See, the jeans are a bit too wide at the lower leg. We could fix that, or you can just roll them up. It makes your legs look longer and it elevates the look.”
Tan nods approvingly, crossing his arms over his chest. Coran comes up behind Lance and sticks his head up over his shoulder. He gives Lance a once over with furrowed brows, then nods once. “Not as impressive as it could be, but it seems to fit you very well. Approved!”
Lance laughs. “Well, if you approve it I really should take it.”
Coran grins toothily. Tan shakes his head, but he does smile, too.
“So this outfit is something you could wear on a daily basis, when you go out with friends, on a date” Tan winks at Lance, who just rolls his eyes without commenting on it. “When you want to dress it up a bit you can put on a shirt or a jacket on top.”
Tan darts into the changing room and emerges with a blue bomber jacket. He holds it out and Lance shrugs into it. It’s one of his favorite finds. Given that besides this one and his first find there are three more jackets and a blazer in his changing room, Lance wonders whether he has a thing for nice jackets.
“See, the red stripes of the jacket match the shirt nicely, but you could wear other color shirts, too. And just let me show you something that really makes the look.”
Tan steps in front of Lance and points at the hem of his own shirt. “This is called a french tuck. You just tuck the very front of your shirt loosely into your trousers and boom, you looks so much more stylish.”
Lance tucks in his t-shirt and Tan steps aside again. Lance glances at the whole tableau. He’s not really sure that this so called ‘french tuck’ actually changed anything significantly, but he makes a mental note to remember it anyway. If anyone knows anything about fashion and what makes the man, it’s Tan.
“That does look so much better!” Coran enthuses, coming around to stand next to Tan and give Lance an approving nod. “Who would have thought that even I don’t know all the fashion tricks out there? What a crazy world!”
“Who would’ve thought,” Lance laughs, and he realizes he is really enjoying himself, even with Coran. Maybe because of Coran. Definitely because of Coran.
Lance looks back at his image in the mirror. He does like what he sees. He puts his hands in his pockets and cocks his head to the side. Not bad. He tries a smile.
“Just look at that!” Tan says, clapping his hands together.
Lance immediately drops the smile and goes red in the face. He looks down at the floor so he doesn’t have to see the embarrassment on his face.
“No no no, Lance, don’t do that! Give us your best cat walk, come on!”
“Yes yes, walk like a cat!” Coran says, making claw hands and ducking his head. “Show us how the cats walk!”
Lance, in a moment of madness, turns to Coran and Tan, extends one hand like a claw and meows. He also can’t help but add a little wink at the end.
Tan immediately gasps and puts a hand over his heart theatrically. Coran throws his hands in the air and whoops. “This is how the kitty goes!”
“Never, ever, say that again, Coran, please,” Lance says darkly, but he can’t keep down the giggle bubbling up.
Tan laughs and shoves at Lance. “Now come on, do it for me, do a little walk!”
Lance still feels a bit self-conscious, but he obliges and walks to the end of the hallway. He turns back, puts his hands back in his pockets and starts to walk. He makes sure to put a little swing into the movement of his hips. He holds his head high, gazing straight ahead at the end of the hallway, where the mirror hangs. He fully intended to keep a straight face, just like the models on an actually catwalk, but he can’t help himself and smiles the whole way down.
Tan and Coran cheer and whistle, making Lance laugh. When he rejoins them, he cocks his head to the side, pulls his hands out of his pockets and makes finger guns at them.
“Lance, stop it, I’m married!” Tan laughs, fanning himself with his hand.
Coran cackles. “And once again Loverboy Lance proves that no one is immune to his charms.”
“Now you’re exaggerating,” Lance giggles.
“Now, stand here again for me, please,” Tan says, motioning for the spot in front of the mirror. Lace obliges and Tan stands next to him again. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when you first came out and saw yourself in the mirror, you immediately stood up straighter.”
Lance looks at himself again. He can’t really tell if this is true, because he doesn’t have a full length mirror at home and avoids the small bathroom mirror. He can, however, tell that he feels a lot more confident than before. He doesn’t so much feel taller in the sense of gaining a few inches, but like something within him has decided to unfurl from a deep sleep.
He smiles. “Yeah, I can see that.”
Coran leans against the mirror, his face earnest once more. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes tells Lance that he does not only approve of the clothes he wears.
“You know this might sound weird, but I didn’t think that a set of new clothes could change that much,” Lance admits to Tan’s mirror self.
“But it does, so much. I mean, it only makes sense that when you feel comfortable in how you present yourself that you can actually be yourself.”
Lance ponders this. Tan is, of course, right. And for a moment, Lance remembers the things he liked to wear as a teen. Jackets and huge sneakers were his go-to, something he wouldn’t wear today, but things that made him feel like the person he was at that time. He becomes somewhat wistful at the thought of a younger, happier, and more carefree version of himself, but he stops himself short before he can go somewhere dark. He focuses on Tan’s smiling face and tries to stay in the moment. He wants to enjoy this. He wants to come back to the present day.
“Thank you,” Lance says simply.
Tan waves a dismissive hand. “All in a days work. Now, go and try something else!”
~*~
Lance tries on what feels like the entire stock of the store. Coran has a whale of a time commenting on the wearability of each outfit on different planets (“Green! I like green! Did you know that on Aurus green is the color of virginity?”), and at some point whacks some purple shades from his pockets, trying to find a way to make Lance wear them. They are a weird triangle shape and Lance immediately has to think of the 70s and discos and spandex outfits. He refuses every time, so at some point Coran runs out into the shop again and returns with an armful of shades and makes Lance look at each of them.
Lance eventually settles on a pair of slim black ones, just to make Coran shut up. He and Tan exchange secret glances, both annoyed but eternally amused by this strange Altean man. Lance wouldn’t have it any other way.
At some point Coran even manages to talk Tan into trying a Hawaiian shirt with pink and green palm trees all over it. Tan hisses at the camera that this has to be cut out of the final episode or else. Lance secretly hopes they won’t. Coran is just happy to have made The Tan France wear something he suggested.
“Last outfit?” Tan asks through the changing room curtains.
“Yeah, just a sec,” Lance says. He shrugs into the denim jacket and steps outside. It’s weird how the very first outfit he’s found is the very last one he tries on. He steps in front of the mirror, waiting for Tan and Coran’s comments.
“Hm,” Tan says, stepping up and tugging at the sleeves of the jacket. “The trousers and shirt are fine, but the jacket is a bit...I don’t know.”
“Too big?”
“Not really,” Tan says and tugs at the hem. “I think the sleeves are a bit too wide. But we can fix that, if you like.”
“I do.” Lance can’t help it but he really likes this denim jacket. And even though it does look a bit too big on him, he can still pull it off as intentional with his lean frame.
“You could wear this as a nightgown on Daibazaal!” Coran says brightly.
“Not helping, Coran,” Lance says with an eye-roll.
“Lance?”
They all whip around when someone speaks up behind them. Lance knows who the voice belongs to before he even sees him.
“Keith?”
Keith is standing at the end of the hallway, hair slightly tousled and cheeks flushed. “You still at it, are you?”
He walks down to join them. He’s wearing his black leather jacket and it’s doing something to Lance’s face that makes the markings on his face feel a lot hotter than they should. Lance also notices that Keith is carrying a helmet. He ogles it curiously when Keith comes to stand in front of the trio.
Coran waves at him while Tan gasps in shock. “Oh dear, have we been here for that long?”
Keith pulls his phone out of his back pocket and looks at the screen. “I’ve been waiting outside for fifteen minutes already.”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” Tan says and waves his hands around.
“What are you doing here?” Lance asks.
“I’m here to pick you up,” Keith says, putting his phone back. “You are going to stay with me tonight, remember?”
“Oh, right” is all Lance can say to that. He successfully forgot that Keith told him about this the day before. He did not expect Keith to pick him up. His insides don’t really know how to feel about that, so he turns to look at Tan.
“I like the jacket,” Keith says.
“Thanks.” Lance doesn’t trust himself to look up. What the quiznack is wrong with him.
“We have to take in the sleeves, I’m afraid,” Tan says and goes about tugging at Lance again. Lance didn’t mind that all day but right about now he really could do without anyone touching him at all.
“Tan France says that but I think it’ll be the perfect nightwear on Daibazaal!”
Keith snorts. “When’s the last time you’ve actually been on Daibazaal?”
“I’ll let you know, even the people on Daibazaal were in awe of my fashion-knowledge!”
Keith rolls his eyes. Lance can see it through the mirror. He did have a lot of fun, but he does feel a bit faint now knowing that they have been in this store for quite some time. At least that’s what he’s telling himself.
“Wait, can I just...” Keith is suddenly standing closer, and Lance starts.
Keith looks up at Lance, eyeing the sleeves and the rest of the jacket. He has his lips puckered up ever so slightly. Lance feels a bit squirmy under his gaze.
“Extend your arms,” he says.
“Why?” Lance asks with a raised eyebrow. He can’t help it. Old habits just die hard.
Keith sighs. “Just trust me? Like with the cookies?”
Lance ignores Tan asking, “What cookies?” and extends his arms. Keith puts the helmet down and extends long, slender fingers and touches the hem of one sleeve. With quick, dexterous motions, he rolls up the sleeve right up to Lance’s elbow, then does the same on the other sleeve.
“There,” Keith says, letting go of Lance. “That should do it.”
Lance turns and finds that he likes this a lot. He flexes his hands and puts his right hand in his pocket.
“Ah yes, Keith, good idea! It shows off his arms!”
Keith coughs. “Guess so.”
For some reason, Coran starts to cackle, and Lance can feel his face grow hot again, right where the Altean markings are. A quick look in the mirror tells him that they are not glowing, though. He inwardly sighs with relief.
“Anyway,” Keith says, kneeling to retrieve the helmet. “Are you done?”
“I’ll just get changed,” Lance says. He sidles past Keith, barely listening to what Tan has to say.
“We’ll leave the denim jacket be, you can still change it if you want to later,” is all Lance can make out between a bunch of other things that his brain isn’t capable of soaking up anymore. It really has been a long shopping trip.
When Lance puts on his pair of scruffy old jeans and t-shirt he instantly feels a lot less comfortable than he had before all of this. Stepping out of the changing room facing Keith, who looks so effortlessly cool and collected in his leather jacket and black jeans combo, makes Lance want to crawl back into the corner of the changing room and not come back out. He doesn’t do that, but the can feel himself shrinking back a bit. Maybe that’s what Tan meant by standing up taller earlier.
“Ready,” Lance says, putting his hands in his pockets.
“You two go, I’ll handle the rest.” Tan is tapping away on his phone, waving them away with his free hand. “You boys go and have fun. But Lance,” Tan looks up with a twinkle in his eyes, “try to get more sleep this time, won’t you?”
Lance scowls at him. From behind Tan, Coran emerges and puts his hands on Tan’s shoulders, grinning like a madman at all of them. “I’ll stay behind and help Tan France! You have a lovely time.”
Coran waggles his eyebrows, and Lance really wants to smack him. When he turns to look at Keith, he has a similar expression on his face. They share an affectionate eye-roll and grin over their Altean Space-Uncle. Lance is sure that Keith as well doesn’t want to know what this ‘help’ will mean for poor Tan. Lance just hopes it won’t be too bad.
Tan, on the other hand, looks a bit frightened by the idea of being ‘helped’ by an almost 6 foot 5 alien. But then again, Lance can see that Tan also seems kinda into the idea. He has weird images flash before his eyes and he immediately decided that he doesn’t want to ponder on that idea for too long.
Before they leave, Coran envelopes them both in a bone-crushing hug. Tan doesn’t offer Keith a hug, because he looks way too flustered and uncomfortable from Coran’s overly generous effort; he does hold out his arms to Lance, though. Lance doesn’t think twice about it and gives the shorter man a tight hug.
“Thank you,” Lance says into Tan’s ear.
“Take care,” Tan says and let’s go of Lance, a warm smile on his face. “We’ll see each other at the end of the week.
Lance follows Keith down the hallway, giving Tan a last wave before they round the corner.
“Didn’t think you’d pick me up,” Lance says, eyeing the back of Keith’s head. It’s right at this moment that Lance realizes that he doesn’t even know whether Keith has a permanent stay here on earth. He can literally feel the blood leave his face when this fact hits him because, well, he’s been friends with Keith for so long and he doesn’t even know where he lives or doesn’t live when he’s not out there somewhere on Blade duty. Why is there so much he doesn’t know about his friends?
“Surprise!” Keith says, waving one hand in the air without turning around.
Lance remembers the helmet. “Did you come with a bike?”
They reach the entrance, and Keith stops with his hand on the doorknob. He turns to give Lance a smirk that does all sorts of weird things to his insides.
“I did.” He tosses the helmet to Lance.