Chapter Text
Howdy.
Howdy.
Lance had completely forgotten the fact that Keith was from the South—that he was, in fact, Texan, and had a very prominent accent. He was at a loss for words, caught between wanting to say, I never knew a southern active was so attractive, and, YOU'RE REALLY FUCKING PRETTY.
Lance must've been staring, jaw slack and eyes wide, because Keith's sheepish smile only spread wider into one of fondness. Concern, or at least what Lance thought to be concern (if he somehow managed to read his expression correctly in his stunned state, that would be a miracle), crossed Keith's face. "Lance? You a'ight?"
A'ight.
Lance's mind became the embodiment of a key smash, if that made sense.
He couldn't keep him waiting, though, and definitely didn't want to seem like he was some weirdo who had never heard a southern accent in real life before their meeting (though, he may add, Lance had never heard one so handsome). "Yeah," Lance said, a bit too breathlessly for his liking, but Keith didn't seem to notice—or, if he did, he didn’t comment on it. "Um, it's nice to meet you in person, Keith." He felt like he was going on his very first date all over again. Lance remembered his stuttering, the racing of his heart, the infatuation of the person sitting across from him.
It was like that situation all over again, except this time his date wasn't poking fun at his nerves.
"Likewise. Your pictures don't do you any justice."
It sounded a lot like, "Yer pitch-yurs don't do yuh enay justice", or maybe Lance's mind was just over-exaggerating, as per usual.
Either way, Lance thought his accent was really attractive.
Keith looked surprised for a second, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. It took Lance a moment to realize that he had said his thoughts out loud. "Well, thank you," he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. "You'd be the first to think so."
Lance decided to roll with it. "There's no way. Your accent is like, really nice to listen to. ASMR-tier." Keith laughed, and Lance now found himself with a new goal: try to hear Keith's wonderful laugh again by cracking jokes whenever possible. "No, honestly! I’d listen to Texan accent ASMR—only if you made it, though.” He was slowly working his way back into his casual self as he became accustomed to the ever-present fact that his date was very attractive, voice and all.
Lance’s flirt earned him an amused smile as Keith spoke. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
They entered the restaurant together, and Lance already felt welcomed by the warm lighting, the pleasant smiles sent their way from staff. Keith told the hostess the name for their reservation, and before Lance could make some kind of comment about Keith’s full name, they were already on their way to their table.
“Kogane, huh?” Lance asked, raising a brow. It was the first time hearing the other’s last name, considering they had only really introduced themselves with their first names. Lance absently wondered what his name would sound like if he had the last name ‘Kogane’. He wasn’t thinking of marriage—no, not yet, Lance still had to get to know Keith before he even considered that—but it was just something he did with people’s last names.
Though, Lance Kogane did kind of have a nice ring to it. Or, maybe Keith McClain.
“Yeah, Kogane. It ain’t very Texan, huh?” Keith smiled, and Lance couldn’t help but return it.
Ain’t. God, Lance really liked Keith’s accent, probably on an unhealthy level already.
Lance chuckled to hide his new infatuation with his date’s voice. “Guess not. I think I beat you with the whole… Texan last name, thing.”
“Oh yeah? Well, what’s yours then?”
“McClain.”
Keith nodded as he opened his menu, agreeing that Lance’s name was definitely more Texas-sounding than his own name, despite being from Texas. Various amounts of small talk pursued, with Lance leading the way with his flirty jokes, sometimes breaking off into a story he could relate to whatever he happened to be talking about. And Keith listened, full attention on Lance. It was only after they had gotten their drinks that Lance realized that he’d been talking for most of that time.
His face radiated heat, and Lance averted his gaze down. “Sorry,” he excused. “I get excited and ramble a lot.”
“Why’re you apologizin’? I like listenin’ to you talk. You’re pretty cute when y’git all excited, so don’t be sorry ‘bout it.”
Lance looked back up, only to meet Keith’s gaze directly. Whoever said the eyes were the window to the soul was absolutely correct, because Lance could see how honest Keith was being just by glancing into his eyes. He felt his face flush hotter than before, mostly because, well, Keith was complimenting him on his never-ending one-sided conversation. It felt nice that Keith didn’t mind his talking. Sometimes Pidge would make an off-hand comment about how much he just talked and got off track with the conversation topic, and that made Lance conscious of it.
Don’t get him wrong—Lance loved Pidge, he really did, but he also took a lot of things that she said to heart. God forbid he ever became a burden or an annoyance. God forbid.
A hand was resting atop his when he broke free of his trance-like state. It was Keith’s hand, of course, and it was warm. Callused as they were, Lance wanted to hold them—hold them while they walked, hold them while they embraced, kissed, while they made—
“Lance? You okay?” Afraid that his voice might crack if he spoke, Lance simply nodded. “Are you sure I didn’t break you?” He nodded again. “Well, I’m gonna use the restroom. So I’ll be right back, okay?” His hand—the one that he totally wasn’t daydreaming about—pulled away from Lance’s as he moved to get up from the booth.
“Yeah,” Lance said once he had recollected himself, pulling his hand close to his chest. “Don’t die in there.”
Keith let out a laugh as he stood, “Yeah, I’ll try not to, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Queue the chuckle from Keith, and Lance smiled out of nervousness.
As soon as Keith was walking to the restroom, Lance busted out his phone, quickly turning to his group chat between he, Hunk, and Pidge. The chat was named chocolate water (don’t ask why because Lance wasn’t too sure himself).
To: chocolate water
GUYS HE HAS AN ACCENT
IM EIAHOGTIUSHDJRUITHURSH
From: chocolate water
Pidgeotto
o h
weary emoji
inb4 lance gonna get laid tonight ;)
From: chocolate water
Hun k
Didn’t need to picture that Pidge
From: chocolate water
Pidgeotto
hey im just sayin
To: chocolate water
HE SAYD HOWDY AHGITKEJHIKRTSJH
HES SO FUVKING CUTE YOU GUYS DONY EBEN KNOW
HE LIKES HEARING ME TALK
From: chocolate water
Hun k
Aaawww
From: chocolate water
Pidgeotto
howdy folks y’all ready tah do sum square dancin
From: chocolate water
Hun k
Lmao Pidge
To: chocolate water
LISTEN OK
He’s so wholesome it makes me wanna cRY,,,,
From: chocolate water
Pidgeoto
well then why are you messaging here instead of like
idk
talking to him ????
From: chocolate water
Hun k
Did you scare him off somehow?
From: chocolate water
Pidgeotto
OOF
To: chocolate water
No
You guys are honestly the bEST supportive friend group -_-
From: chocolate water
Pidgeotto
we are aware
By the time Pidge had replied, Lance spotted Keith walking back, so he quickly sent a goodbye and pocketed his phone, set to do-not-disturb so their responses didn’t distract him from the time he had with Keith, with his date. Lance, even as he sat in the booth with Keith directly across from him, occasionally bumping feet underneath the table, still had a difficult time wrapping his mind around the fact that he was on a date with someone he thought to be so handsome and beautiful—inside (as far as he could tell) and out.
“Welcome back,” Lance said after taking a sip of his coke to lubricate his dry throat. Dry from nervousness, it seemed to be.
“Why thank you, Lance.” And Mother Mary (he might’ve made the sign of the cross, too, if given the chance), if Lance didn’t feel like swooning when Keith said his name in his rural Texan accent. “So, we were talkin' 'bout your sister, right? Veronica, I think.”
HOT DAMN, Lance inwardly shouted, all the while looking completely sane. HE EVEN REMEMBERS WHAT I TALKED ABOUT.
He had really scored with Keith, hadn’t he? Lance made a mental note to email whoever made FarmersOnly.com and thank them for leading him to find someone who actually listened to him when he talked on and on.
“Yeah, Ronnie…” Lance trailed off, far too distracted by the fact that he had been listened to rather than heard. He was being watched instead of seen. And it felt really nice. “I like you a lot, Keith,” Lance admitted, truthful and upfront. “I really do.”
Keith’s contagious smile appeared again. “Well, I like you too, so we’re on the same page there, at least.”
The food was amazing, and that all made sense when Lance saw the bill. Keith didn't seem fazed one bit, as if he ate expensive food every day, and this was nothing. Being the absolutely sweetheart he was, Keith refused to let Lance pay, and he was going to fight it—really, he was—but remembering that he was currently out of a job and only had about a hundred bucks to his name meant he could only cover half, and that was if he didn't want to spend a large majority of said money. "At least let me cover the tip," Lance argued, but Keith shook his head, told the waitress to keep the change so Lance didn't even have a chance to get out his wallet.
"I'm going to pay next time," Lance stated firmly. He wasn't even embarrassed to admit wanting to go on a second date after this, despite this first one not even being complete yet.
"Next time," Keith seemed to agree, but then he had more to say. "we can split the bill."
"No, I'm going to pay for everything next time, and you can't stop me. I'll pay for all the next times."
"How is that fair?" he asked slowly, and Lance was too flustered to think of a comeback.
"It just is, okay?" Lance got up from his seat, and a laughing Keith followed. At least he was able to hold the door for him. "I can pay for the museum—" he began but was interrupted by Keith.
"I already did."
Lance wanted to be mad, but Keith's grin erased any ill feeling he might have had toward not being able to pay. While they walked, their hands kept brushing against each other, and Lance decided to just grab hold of it. "Next time, I'm going to pay," he stated firmly.
Keith stared at him for a moment before he spoke, glancing at their hands but saying nothing in protest. "Okay."
"Why did that sound like a sarcastic 'okay'?"
Keith’s hand tightened in his hold. "You're overthinkin' it, Lance."
LACMA wasn't too busy, thankfully, but maybe that was because not too many people cared about genuine traditional arts. People were too focused on modern art—the kind that had barely a dot on a canvas and received praise for its originality and depth. Lance didn't see what was so enthralling about a dot, let alone why people hung it in museums. Maybe he was just biased about modern art because his sister was an artist, and he'd witnessed the countless hours she spent on one single drawing; then other people splat paint on paper and suddenly it became something meaningful.
Yeah, maybe he was biased. Just a little.
Fortunately, LACMA wasn't a modern art museum, else his date with Keith might have been spoiled by his disdain for modernist artwork. Instead, Lance was more than happy to be there. And Keith could sense that, too.
"You seem excited," Keith said in a low voice, quiet enough for just Lance to hear.
"How can I not be?" he countered, smiling wider than before, turning his head to face Keith. "I'm at a beautiful place, walking hand-in-hand with a beautiful person."
"You think I'm beautiful?" Keith asked, sounding more curious than anything.
Lance didn't miss a beat. "Of course."
Keith slowly stopped walking, and Lance wondered if he had said something wrong. Maybe Keith couldn't handle the constant compliments he dished out. Maybe he should tone it down—
His thoughts were cut short when Keith pulled Lance closer by his hand, bringing them face to face, body to body. Keith's free hand found Lance's, and they intertwined fingers of both hands as Lance's face burned hot. "If I'm beautiful, then you're absolutely stunnin'."
His accent shone through his flirty tone, and Lance wondered for the 20th time that night how he had managed to get Keith on a date.
"I really wanna kiss you right now," Lance muttered, and Keith, albeit appearing shocked for a moment (Lance couldn't blame him, he too would be shocked if someone said that about him to his face), didn't seem to be too bothered that Lance was so open about how he felt. And currently, he felt like kissing the Texan man in front of him.
"Then, what are you waitin' for?"
Lance didn't want to seem braggy, but he was a good kisser. He'd kissed many girls and boys in his past, so kissing Keith certainly wouldn't be trouble. Of course not...
It proved to be more nerve-wracking than Lance had planned. After all, he didn't want to mess this up since the first kiss was what ultimately gauged their chemistry together. He leaned forward, glad that he didn't have to stand on his tip-toes to actually kiss Keith despite their small height difference. The last thing he needed was to do some kind of balancing act while trying to kiss Keith.
They met halfway. Their lips touched, softly at first, then with light pressure. His lips remained slightly parted, and he felt Keith's hand move to the small of his back. Lance moved on his own as well, releasing his hold on Keith's hand to wrap his arms around his neck. They kissed for maybe five seconds, if Lance had to time it, and it felt better than any kiss he'd ever shared with someone.
His eyes opened, half-lidded, and he met Keith's eyes. From this distance, Lance could tell with ease their color: dark, almost purple. It took less than half a second for Lance to decide he loved how Keith's eyes watched him. They remained like that for a while, just gazing into each other's eyes, until Keith's eyes shifted to look at something behind Lance.
Though he only glanced for a moment, Lance couldn't help but turn his head to see just what had caught Keith's attention. "Sorry," came Keith's unwarranted apology as Lance tried to find what it was Keith had been looking at, "I ruined the moment, didn't I?"
"Nah," Lance said, turning his head back to Keith. The only thing behind them had been the many lampposts, which were shining brilliantly amongst the darkening evening. The lampposts were an art installation, and Rachel would probably kill him for forgetting the name of said installation, but in his defense, he hadn't been to the museum since junior high. "I was just wondering what you were looking at."
Keith hummed, brought his hand up to cup Lance's face, brushed a few stray strands out of his eyes with his padded thumb. "I was just thinkin' that you'd look real pretty"—purty, it sounded more like—"in the light of them there lamps." He nodded his head toward the lampposts Lance had just been looking at.
Lance turned his head again, to see if he understood what Keith meant. "What, are you a photographer or something?" he joked, looking back to see Keith was actually serious. "I thought you owned a nursery," he commented, curious.
"I do." Keith's hand fell from his face and joined the one on his back. "But I like to take pictures better than caring for plants."
"Well, I just-so-happen to like having pictures taken of me. I'm an absolute natural—it's like I was born photogenic, Keith. No joke."
"You're very humble."
Lance laughed, pulling away from Keith (very reluctantly, he might add) to, instead, grab his hand again and drag him toward the lampposts. "Shut up," he teased. "C'mon, Keith Kogane. We're gonna make some memories right here, right now."
From behind him, Lance could hear Keith's laugh as he followed him. And Lance smiled wide knowing he was the one causing it. Keith's grip on his hand tightened. Lance could hear the smile in his voice. "Okay, Lance McClain. If you say so."