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It was a small little shop.
Your typical at-the-counter service, the cashier there usually a person around his age, with bags under their eyes that looked too old for their youthful face, big windows that let the cool spring breeze through, decorated with succulents of all sizes interlaced with small flowers, pots of lavender and lemongrass on the windowsill outside.
There was this constant smell of coffee, beans roasting and milk frothing, sounds of clinking metal and soft voices, the worker’s cheerful mechanic greeting and the customer’s sometimes tired and sometimes loud orders of caffeine, the buzzing of the shop even louder at this time of the evening, where each small wooden table and stool were occupied with people talking to one another, people typing away on their phones, or in his case, with a book in their hand and glasses resting on their nose.
Altea, they called it, and Lance found it befitting-it reminded him of that little Spanish city he’d visited before with his family, back when his little brother was still too young to walk and his sister wasn’t even in the picture yet.
He sipped his coffee and tipped the book away from him, lazily looking at the bold letters of the title.
“Do you believe in aliens?”
Lance raised an eyebrow, peeling his eyes away from the book in his hand to look at the source of the odd question.
He looked up to find a pair of dark eyes staring at him, wide and beautiful and for a moment Lance was certain he forgot how to breathe, hell, he probably forgot how to exist.
“I-what?”
“You’re reading Alien Agenda? By Jim Marrs?”
He glanced back down at the book now sitting by his coffee, the pages cracked on the corners from folding and wear, words highlighted and with little hand-written notes on the sides.
Oh.
Oh.
“I-no, this is-“
The boy cocked his head, lips pursing and Lance would be damned if he tried denying that that was the cutest thing he’d seen in his entire life (yes, even cuter than that little puppy video he saw on his Facebook feed the other day, okay? He was still figuring out how that was even possible himself).
Lance gulped and looked around, fearing that one more look into those eyes would have him swirling in black holes and jumping between stars with no way down. A dive into the depths of space without oxygen, pretty while it lasts but suffocating as it goes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. Guess I just kinda got excited someone else read this.”
The boy shrugged, bringing a hand to the nape of his neck, only to then move and fidget with the hem of his red leather jacket.
Red leather jacket.
This dude was going to give Lance a heart attack faster than you could say ‘cool biker boy with a mullet that shouldn’t work but does’.
“It’s my friends’, actually. She lent it to me to…’get woke’ or so she said.” Lance laughed, his own awkwardness fading when he managed to get a small huff of laughter from the boy standing beside him.
“You can sit here if you want, by the way.” he continued, glancing around at the packed coffee shop, “My friend Pidge-the one who lent me the book”, he said, nodding his head to the books’ white cover and burgundy letters, “she went ahead to go order some coffee but uh, she’ll probably be really excited to discuss alien conspiracies with someone.”
They stared at each other for a minute, before Lance stumbled over his words and peeked down, bringing a hand to the sleeves of his sweater and tugging, suddenly self-conscious of his casual appearance-his old blue hoodie and ripped jeans.
“I mean, that’s only if you want of course, you could totally have somewhere to be or something-“
Through his rant, he never noticed the boy taking a seat beside him and snorting a laugh, bringing a hand out to greet Lance.
“I’m Keith, Keith Kogane.” he greeted, his own gaze averted from Lance’s-a good thing if you asked Lance, he didn’t know yet what to do if he met those eyes one more time.
“Lance Sanchez. Nice to meet you Keith.” he smiled, putting his best smirk on his face and shaking Keith’s hand lightly.
“Now, tell me more about this book-I say we freak Pidge out a little with little details she could’a missed.” Lance smirked and Keith laughed, the sound like crystals chiming and hitting onto Lance’s heart with each breath.
It had been a total of two minutes and Lance was already homesick for a person he’d just met.
*****
“Here again Kogane?” Lance quirked an eyebrow, the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose dipping down along with the tilt of his head.
“You’re the one sitting in my seat Sanchez.” he gritted back with equal spite, only to catch glimpse of Lance’s smirk that signalled the facade was over.
The facade was. The teasing wasn’t.
“I was here first and there’s no ‘property of Keith McMullet’ written anywhere so you can’t just go on telling me this is your seat now can you?”
“Cut the crap you space meme, I’ve been sitting here every damn time we meet so yes, it’s my seat, move” he grumbled, pushing Lance with the side of his thigh as if to emphasise his point.
“Make me mullet!” Lance grinned and the fight was on.
How did they get here, Keith wondered?
When did they go from strangers talking about a random book to this?
It took all his courage to go up to Lance that day, noticing the book in his hands with a soft gasp of excitement-he’d heard Shiro’s voice in his mind, his brother chiding him to ‘go talk to him, don’t be afraid!’
There was no godly force driving him there, no pull or attraction to the beautiful boy with the ocean in his eyes.
It was no romance movie first scene, not by Keith’s records.
He was just curious and eventually curiosity overtook awkwardness, until he went for it-with the most Keith-esque way possible, of course, by prepping a massive pep talk for himself, only to stumble over it the moment he took notice of the boy’s profile, the curves of his face and the thick lashes that posed shadows onto his face, the angle of his jaw and the lazy curiosity in his eyes.
His pep talk put it’s coat on and said goodbye forever the moment he laid eyes on one Lance Sanchez, and all he had left, all his mind could conjure up was just that.
Just a quick, hurried, terrified, ‘Do you believe in aliens?’
He never realised how one mere question would lead to this.
Would lead to Keith, now half his body onto Lance’s lap, dramatically arguing with the boy over a seat in a half-empty coffee shop, trying to pay enough attention to not spill the coffee on the table behind him yet forgetting anything about his surroundings the minute Lance’s smile was directed even remotely in his direction.
Would lead to Lance’s number, tucked into his Contact list with a silly selfie he took sometime after they started texting each other and meeting up in that very same coffee shop, often enough to become friends with the staff, the younger ones calling them the ‘coffee shop’s cryptids’.
Would lead to Keith’s heart jumping out of his chest and doing cartwheels at the gym each time he heard Lance’s laugh, loud and chipper and heartfelt, the feel of caramel syrup swirling in his coffee and sugar sprinkled gingerly over froth.
It led to Keith feeling more and more for the sun-kissed boy and his dumb blue eyes and his dumb pretty face that Keith caught himself daydreaming about more than he’d care to admit.
It led to Keith falling in love, or so Shiro had called it when he started describing the butterflies in his stomach and the thudding of his chest-“No”, Shiro had laughed, “You don’t have heartburn Keith. You’re just a boy with a big fat crush on someone.”
A flick on his forehead grounded him back into reality, wincing and rubbing at it before opening his eyes and meeting Lance’s, the boy finally settling for the seat across Keith’s, dark iced coffee in hand whilst the other pushed another cup into Keith’s hands.
“Here’s your sugar rush coffee-wannabe. I owed you one from last time, although I don’t ever, ever, ever want to have to mention a name like ‘Caramel Syrup creamy latte’ ever again.
Keith shrugged but thanked him either way, taking a sip of his sweetened coffee before scrunching his nose in distaste.
He hummed, making Lance cringe.
“Keith? No.”
“But-“
“No.”
“It’s not sweet enough”
“I refuse to get off of this seat just to bring you more sugar to put into that disgrace you call coffee.”
Keith rolled his eyes at Lance’s dramatic antics.
“You drink yours like milk and sugar don’t exist, don’t patronise me you bitter monster.”
“I happen to enjoy good coffee and want to taste it without defiling it” Lance put a hand to his chest, mocking offence.
“And I happen to enjoy my coffee without judging yours. Maybe you could follow my lead for once.”
“Never” Lance wheezed.
“Look man, life happens, coffee helps. Who are we to judge anyone else’s coffee choice of coping?”
Lance hummed at that, suddenly thoughtful.
“What’s your way of coping?” he asked.
“Mine?” Keith asked, remaining silent when Lance nodded.
“Come on you brood, you gotta have something. We all got that one thing that gets us through the day, a little thought or ritual or something. I’m asking, what’s yours?”
Keith didn’t have to think of an answer. It laid itself out behind his eyes, a starry field with sand and sky meeting in a gentle dance, going as far as the eye can see.
Only this time, amidst the stars, he saw more than just dark skies and cold nights.
He wasn’t’ ready to admit that just yet, not to Lance and not to himself.
“I don’t know. I guess I never thought much about it.” he shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee-still not tasting sweet enough. “What’s yours?”
“I guess, it’s probably thinking about the ocean. Like, just thinking about being there, in the middle of it, surrounded by the sea and seeing the sky above?” Lance smiled, soft and fond at the thought, “It’s perfect. I love it.”
Keith looked at him, at the way Lance’s lips tugged, how his eyes softened, glowing under the warm light from the windows besides them, the way his fingers wrapped around his drink, long and smooth with his nails painted blue.
He thought he and Lance were nothing if not exact opposites.
He was starting to re-think that.
******
There was just something about brewing coffee, something in the strong scent of it, or maybe in the bitter taste, he wasn’t sure.
Whatever it was though, it gave him the most bittersweet of feelings, a lingering sensation of nostalgia on his lips.
Maybe that was why he preferred his coffee black, much to Keith’s dismay.
Maybe it was because of the sensation, less than the taste.
Maybe Keith took his sweet to drown out the bitterness that oftentimes overtook his eyes, the one he let seep through whenever he thought Lance wasn’t looking.
Lance wished for nothing more than to reach up to those eyes and take that look away, let only the sugar of his coffee swirl in the dark-haired boy’s mind.
He shook his head with a sigh, leaning over the countertop, suave smile in place.
“Hey gorgeous!”
The girl turned to him with an exasperated sigh, yet soon after smiled at him, hands on her hips.
“Must you say this every time you see me Lance?” she chided, rolling her eyes at Lance’s hooded eyes and pursed lips.
“You’re pretty, and I have eyes. What can I do?” he shrugged.
Through his and Keith's copious visits at Altea, they sooner than later became friends with pretty much everyone working there, more thanks to Lance’s vibrant character than Keith’s awkwardness.
They met Hunk, a sweet boy with soft features and a gentle voice, his mind working so fast Lance saw no wonder when he had instantly hit it off with Pidge, soon enough joining them in their daily adventures.
They met Coran, the manager of the shop, an old cheerful man whose age did nothing to dull the brightness of his smile and the ginger of his moustache.
Lance’s favourite person though must’ve been Allura, Coran’s niece and probably the most gorgeous girl he’d ever laid eyes upon, her long silver her and chocolate skin making Lance insist she’s probably a fallen angel rather than anything else.
She was as cheerful as she was sassy, her whole demeanour calculating and wise, making him sometimes forget they were the same age, her British accent and loud laugh bringing a smile to Lance’s lips.
In another time, at another setting, Lance knew he’d had definitely fallen heads over heels for her.
Perhaps he would even now, had he not already fallen for….
“What is it today Lance?” she smiled, tying the blue apron with Altea’s logo behind her back and coming closer to him, “the usual?”
He nodded, not failing to give her a wink once he got the chance.
It was still early, the shop nearly empty save for a few people at the back, mainly students already buried deep in their books, their coffees already growing cold.
“Where’s Keith today?” she hummed, working on Lance’s coffee.
“Ah, you know him-I’ll bet my entire month’s worth of coffee that he’s still sleeping. I swear, that guy’s actually nocturnal” Lance shrugged, ignoring the thumb of his heart just at the sound of the boy’s name.
Allura hummed, side-eyeing Lance with a knowing gaze.
He tried ignoring her at first, he really did, but he eventually relented, her gaze turning into a devious smirk that resembled his way too much.
“What?!” he asked as she handed him his coffee.
She put her hands up in surrender, laughing all the while.
“Nothing! Nothing. It’s just…” she leaned closer, her smirk growing, “Did you tell him yet?”
Lance stilled.
“T-tell who what? I swear if it’s about that time we pranked Coran I already apologised to him for it, and frankly? Putting mothman stickers on the coffee cups was Keith’s idea okay?”
There was a moment of silence, Allura’s eyebrow raising in question.
“I…was not aware you did that, and you should now expect coffee prices to double for both of you for the next week-“ she ignored Lance’s audible gasp, “but that’s not what I meant.”
“Then I don’t know what you meant.”
She shook her head, smirk fading. “Lance, it’s obvious enough. Hiding behind your thumb is childish, and highly unnecessary at this point.”
For all her playfulness, Lance often forgot just how observant and careful Allura could be. He sometimes swore she must’ve implemented spies around the shop, spies that kept tabs on him and Keith.
Maybe it was Pidge-she was tiny enough to hide in plain sight, although he’d never dare say that out loud, he valued his life quite enough thank you very much.
There was no room for pretending, no room for his usual antics.
So he sighed, shoulders slumping and hands falling onto the countertop.
“Allura, how do I even tell him? The guy’s the literal embodiment of perfect, even with his broodiness and sugar craze and I’m just-I don’t want to ruin this”
Allura gave him a sympathetic look, bringing a hand over his but said nothing.
“He’s just-we’ve got this really good thing going and if I lose him from my life I don’t-I don’t know, we’ve been friends for so long now. I’m..I’m scared.” he whispered the last words, only just admitting them to himself.
“Lance…” she breather, her grip on his hand tightening.
“Lance, look at me.” he complied, turning his head to meet her bright eyes and stern expression.
“Is this what you really want? To just stay in this sort of skinny love, without one person making the first move? Don’t you think not telling him how you feel is enough of a taint to your friendship?”
She brought a hand to his cheek, resting it there and giving him a soft smile.
“I know it’s scary, terrifying even, but you need to be honest. Both for your sake and his. Besides,” she continued with a grin, “I’d bet an entire year’s worth of coffee that the feeling is very much mutual.”
She patted his cheek and moved away, turning back to her work as the bell by the entrance rang, signalling the coming of another customer.
Lance stood by the counter for a moment, eyes wide and dumpfounded, before he found his footing again.
“Allura, sweetheart, have I ever told you how awesome you are?” he sighed.
“I already know love” she grinned, winking at him before fully going back to her post, the conversation officially ending.
Lance knew she was right.
He knew what he had to do, felt it as clearly he felt the warmth of his coffee in his throat, in his chest.
He knew what he had to do.
He was just too scared to do so.
Far too scared of never seeing Keith’s laughing face again.
Even more scared of seeing that pained expression, directed at him.
It’d be far more than what he could take.
******
NEW MESSAGE
From: Space Mullet
>hey
>are u at home?
Lance knew it was late.
He wasn’t certain how late exactly, but the silence of his neighbourhood, save for the chirping of crickets singing in the summer heat, and the occasional car passing by, were tell-tale giveaways of the deep hours of the night.
So when the message came from that one certain boy that had been running laps in his mind all day, he knew something was up, even more-so when picking up the phone revealed to him that it was, in fact, nearing four a.m.
He typed in a hasty reply, suddenly worried.
>>ye, im just chilling @ home. what’s up?
The reply was almost instantaneous.
From: Space Mullet
>do u wanna come out for a while?
>with me i mean. us. going somewhere.
Lance corked an eyebrow, worry slowly easing to the side to allow room for curiosity to come into play.
What could Keith possibly want with him this late in the day?
>>sure? like, right now?
From: Space Mullet
>yeah. meet me in front of Altea in 20 min
He sent a simple ‘ok’ in reply and got dressed, a dread building its way up from the base of his stomach, bringing the taste of bile to his throat.
Still, he got dressed and walked out the door within a span of five minutes, his feet hurried and steps heavy as he neared their frequented coffee shop, it’s atmosphere so much different when it wasn’t adorned by blinking fairy lights and the constant chatter of the shop.
Keith stood outside, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, back leaning over the main door to the coffee house.
He took notice of Lance and nodded, gaze distant in a way Lance had never seen him be before.
“Hey, what’s up?”
Keith said nothing in response, opting instead to moving closer to Lance and taking hold of his wrist, grip gentle enough that he could break off of it at any time, yet also firm, as if asking, pleading Lance to stay there within an arm’s reach.
“Do you trust me?”
Lance contemplated for a moment, eyes flickering from the lamppost ahead of them to the gleam in Keith’s eyes, brighter than any streetlight.
“Yes.”
There was no further exchange of words-Keith laced their fingers together, the head of his palm radiating, warming Lance’s cold clammy fingers, and with that, he tugged Lance along, leading him to the parked motorcycle a few feet ahead.
If neither of them let go of each other’s hand, that was something neither boy would address.
*****
He wasn’t sure how long they were driving for, Lance’s hands grabbing at Keith’s waist, tightening with every curve of the street or sudden halt of the motorbike, Keith’s face heating up at the contact-even if he later blamed it on the hot weather.
By the time Keith killed the engine, there had already not been any lamp posts around for miles on end, only a nitty dirt road that kept going as far as the eye could see (which granted, in such a late hour, it wasn’t much).
To each side was nothing but sand, small dunes forming and splitting with each gust of wind.
There was one thing that caught Lance’s attention though.
With a tilt of his head, Lance noticed a shack, small and wooden with its windows wide open.
It was so surreal, standing tall in the middle of a desert, that Lance almost assumed he’d just imagined the sight, blog posts on luminal spaces and tricks of the mind coming forth in his head.
That is, until Keith tugged his helmet off of his head, running a hand through his hair and helping Lance off the bike, leather jacket tucked over his shoulder.
With hands still clasped, he lead him into the shack, opening it with a nudge of his foot.
“It’s nothing much but…come in” Keith breathed, standing by to let Lance through.
It really wasn’t much.
A sofa cramped on one side, a board with maps and red string on the other, little notes in crude handwriting and chains of photographs pinned here and there.
A small oil lamp on a desk covered in scattered papers.
That dumb, chubby plush toy Lance gave Keith a while back sitting atop a stack of books.
“Keith…?”
He turned to look at the boy, whose head hang low, arms folded over his chest and back slumped.
“I-let’s sit outside for a while.”
Lance nodded, following Keith out and around the back of the shack, a couple of folding chairs with their legs fitted into the sand waiting there.
The atmosphere was tense, more awkward than it’d ever been between them, even worse than their first odd meeting, more awkward then sitting there hearing Keith and Pidge talk non-stop about aliens and cryptids.
Lance hated this.
He hated the clench of his gut, Keith’s distance, the cold in the air.
He gave a loud yelp and let his body fall into the sand, flopping onto his back and propping an arm behind his head.
“Mullet! Come lay here. Let’s stargaze” he smiled, cocking his head to take a peek at Keith.
Keith halted, looking down at Lance with an unreadable expression, before slowly coming to a stand next to him, sitting down with his knees to his chest, curling inwardly.
He was scared, Lance figured, and something in his chest tugged at him to do something, cheer him up.
So he did the first thing he could think of.
Reaching out, he put a hand over Keith’s curled one, light touch bringing a spark to his whole being.
They'd touched casually so many times, but this felt..it felt different okay, a certain spark that Lance couldn’t, wouldn’t put a name to, not yet.
Keith turned to look at the offending hand, but to Lance’s surprise, he didn’t move to swat it away, choosing instead to relax and hold on to it tighter, interlacing their fingers with a soft sigh.
“I…I never really told anyone else about this place.” he started, voice coarse and deep form worry.
“My brother Shiro knows about it, kinda, but I’m the only one that comes here” Keith shrugged.
He kept his eyes locked to the horizon, sky slowly, painfully, tinting blue, and Lance wanted to tilt Keith’s head his way, see everything he’d been hiding.
“I guess I just…I’m a really closed off person. It’s kind of always been like this. And then you just..you just came along with that dumb smile and I’m not too sure what happened to be honest.”
Lance gaped, any words he’d meant to say dying instantly in his throat. Keith carried on, still not turning Lance’s way.
“I found this place one time I argued with Shiro and just wanted a place to hide away for a bit. It was this abandoned shack, broken and run-down and it felt…felt like home. So I fixed it up, and came here often ever since.”
The boy let out a breath, eyes fluttering closed.
“..Keith?”
“This is the place that got me through the day” he continued, eyes still closed, “You asked me once what it was that got me through the day, what I’d look forward to and it was this place. Was.”
He turned to finally meet Lance’s gaze, his face electric, the slow rise of the sun casting shapes that made Keith look nothing less than ethereal in Lance’s eyes.
“Then I met you and I just realised that sometimes, sometimes it’s not a place that gets you through the day. It’s not a good cup of coffee or any specific thing.”
He brought their interlaced hands close to his face, gently nuzzling Lance’s clasped hand,
“Sometimes it’s a person that’ll get you through the day.”
Lance knew.
He knew that Keith, moody, broody, closed off Keith, Keith with a heart of gold and intentions pure, Keith the tongue-tied boy with a laugh like liquid ambers and eyes like newborn nebulas, knowing him, he’d probably had a whole speech planned.
He’d probably prepared everything in his head, the sugar in his coffee dripping sweetness into his blood, into his every action, making Lance’s mind run in circles like the spoon mixing the froth on the tip of his drink.
He must’ve only found the courage to put his plan to action tonight, feeling brave under the cover of the night, letting his feelings pour from their interlaced fingers, from that damn look in his eyes, from the full emotion in his voice.
But Keith knew Lance by now.
He knew he was dealing with the embodiment of spontaneity, he knew Lance, as much as he joked and laughed, kept his emotions at a distance, covered them under bitter tastes and wide grins, out of fear, or worry, or both.
He knew Lance.
So Lance didn’t think twice about throwing himself onto Keith, toppling both their bodies in the sand, the grains finding their way to their faces, clothes, hands.
Lance laughed, and through the laughter he felt the tears prickling at his eyes, clouding the perfect view; Keith, Keith’s gorgeous eyes and his gaped mouth, his eyebrows hidden into his hair from the shock yet still looking unfairly beautiful.
There were little streaks of pink, sun now fully rising, but neither boy cared; they were too busy looking at their own personal sunrise.
“You’re my way of getting through the day too” Lance whispered, no complaint leaving his mouth as Keith put a hand to the back of his head and tugged him down, lips meeting in a bruising force, the feelings they each kept locked in their own little Pandora’s box unwinding, swirling and mixing with one another’s.
They spent the rest of the sunrise just like that-listening to each other’s heartbeat and huffs of laughter, turning to see the sun whilst lazily laying in the sand hand-in hand, turning to one another every once in a while only to grin like love-struck fools (who were they kidding, that’s exactly what they were).
There was no further deep confession, no whispered ‘i love you’s; that was a given by now, and something neither boy would be able to say without spontaneously combusting with a furious blush.
But it was there.
The ‘i love you’ was in the way they looked at each other; in the way Lance laughed, saying ‘I owe Allura a year’s worth of coffee now!’, in the way Keith rolled his eyes and kissed Lance’s forehead.
It was in their every breath.
*****
“You know” Lance started, fingers tracing circles on Keith’s shirt, “I’ve been thinking..”
“You what now?” Keith joked, wincing at the flick of Lance’s fingers to his forehead, “I’m kidding. What’s up?”
“Well, I was just thinking-I’ll try your coffee next time we go to Altea’s.”
“You? With sugar?” Keith’s eyes widened, turning to fully look at Lance; they moved into the shack and onto the sofa a while later, making do with the small place with Lance laying over Keith, the dark-eyed boy lazily throwing an arm over his waist.
“I said I was thinking about it, not doing it. But…I do want to give it a go. Taste things from your perspective.” Lance shrugged.
Keith hummed, tilting his head to give Lance a chaste kiss.
“I guess I’ll try yours then.”
“You? Black coffee?”
Keith blushed.
“Well I mean, you said it right? Tasting each other’s perspective. If that’s even a phrase.”
Lance laughed, the sound pulling each and every string in Keith’s heart.
Perhaps this would be their thing.
Perhaps they could both learn to take their coffee a little different; look at it a little different; drink each other’s love and strengthen theirs.
After all, what’s life without a good cup of coffee and a hand to hold?
*****