Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Dude, this is kind of embarrassing.”

Hunk looked down into the cage. He pulled his lips up at the corner, until his half-smile looked a little more sarcastic than sincere, and gently moved the cage to get a better look inside, where the small rat scuttled about with barely a care in the world. It was pure white with the longest tail that Hunk could ever recall, with a little tuft of fur on its head that looked almost like a mullet. The rat looked okay, but it was clear it lost some weight.

The cage currently sat by the bedroom window; a great deal of light shone through, reflecting off the metal bars and burning lines in Hunk’s vision, and – as he wiped at his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket – he looked over to Lance sat cross-legged on his bed. Lance was clearly distressed, so much so that he was quiet and sullen. He folded his arms and looked down at the floor with a frown, while his brown hair was slick to his skull in places with sweat, and his brown skin looked pale in comparison to usual. Hunk sighed and asked:

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it to Shiro?”

Lance winced and fell back upon the wall. He stretched out his legs and stared up at the ceiling, while Hunk sat on his bed just opposite and clasped his hands between parted legs, and the two of them sat in companionable silence. The dozens of family photos that littered the wall on Lance’s side of the room, staring down with hundreds of eyes in judgement, and he wondered whether Keith ever had trouble from others because of Lance’s grudge. It was possible the entirety of Lance’s family hated Keith based on hearsay alone.

He shuddered and listened to the thrumming sounds of music through the wall, as Keith belted some heavy-metal music loud enough that the bass could be felt through the floor, while – on the other side of their room – there was the loud clangs and bangs of Pidge working on some engineering project or other, likely with headphones to blot out the sounds. It was nice to never be alone, but the downside was . . . he was never alone.

Lance was also a messy roommate. The desk between the two beds was littered with various beauty products, luxury towels, and herbal remedies, so that Hunk was forced to study in the college library, as there was no space in their room. The kitchen was his only real domain, but even that could be a chore when his rare shitake mushrooms would be chopped up into a microwaved pasta-bake in which half would end up in the trash, and to which no one seemed to recall having cooked. Lance broke him from his grumbled thoughts with a saddened:

“If I take it to Shiro, Keith will know.”

“So who cares?” Hunk asked. “You’re training to be a vet, right? I always kind of thought that you guys had some sort of code, like doctors have with all that Hippocratic Oath stuff, and I really think that little fellow needs to eat something soon. Why not just take him to Shiro and get him looked over? You work for the guy! He’s like . . . legendary.”

“He’s also Keith’s half-brother!” Lance pouted and groaned. “If I go in there all ‘hey, my rat is sick and I need some help’, Keith will find out and be all ‘duh, my name’s Keith, and I smell, and I’m just an engineering student, but I’m still better with animals than you’.”

“Okay, so what about Coran? He’s good with animals.”

“The guy who runs the animal shelter?”

Lance blushed and sat up straight. It brought a smile to Hunk’s lips, as he laughed under his breath, and watched as Lance scratched at the back of his neck and looked down to a stack of magazines underneath the desk. They looked innocent enough, but Hunk knew – after searching for some reading material after a bad stomach bug one day – that there were a lot of explicit magazine featuring women, which honestly didn’t make his time in the bathroom past any quicker. He also knew there were at least a handful featuring men.

If Lance didn’t want to out himself, that was perfectly fine. Hunk knew. He knew and he also knew how close a friendship developed between the college student and middle-aged manager, and he also saw how Coran always softened around Lance and how Lance always opened up to him. He just wished they saw it, too. Hunk lay back on bed and stared up at the ceiling scattered with glow-in-the-dark stars. He asked innocently enough:

“Didn’t you get your rat from him, too?”

“Yeah, I guess,” mumbled Lance.

Hunk yawned and listened to the music. It quietened down, which meant that it was probably nine o’clock on the dot, and Hunk smiled at the strict routine obeyed by Keith, which always made organising their home life so much easier to achieve. There was clacking from the other room, as Pidge continued to bang away on her keyboard, now apparently on the computer instead of with machinery, and Hunk drifted into sleep with the intent to remind her to eat and sleep, but the thoughts lost themselves to dreams. He half-mumbled to himself:

“Go see him and see what he says.”

* * *

Lance stood at the counter.

The rat curled up in the corner of its travel cage, where it looked far more peaceful than Lance, and he almost envied it for how it slept with little movements of its chest up and down, until his racing heart slowed just a little and he chanced a nervous smile. He nearly missed when Allura came to stand before him, as he found himself lost within his thoughts, but the beautiful woman smiled and quirked her head to one side with long hair cascading downward.

He held back the urge to flirt, as he knew from experience that she held no feelings for him other than mild irritation, moderate respect, and a large amount of amusement by his antics and jack-of-all-trade talents. The white uniform she wore bore a large stain on the left arm, while the dogs out back yipped and yapped with increasing volume, and he also noted a tear in the sleeve of the white arm, which made him tempted to slip a suggestion into the suggestion box about maybe not wearing white uniforms in an animal shelter.

There was a heavy smell in the air that reminded him somewhat of a zoo, like a mixture of iron and sweat and Pidge’s cooking, and the noise from the various animals blended together in a total cacophony of noise. He looked over to the office door, but there were no shadows or sounds from within. Lance slumped his shoulders. He looked to Allura and smiled, while she looked back with a smile in turn and asked in a kind voice:

“How may we help you, Lance?”

He looked down to the cage and shrugged. A flush came to his cheeks, as the ID badge for the ‘Shirogane Clinic’ weighed down his pocket, and he chanced a glance to the door that led to the kennels, only to see nothing but a couple of cages through the square of glass. There were leaflets for Shiro’s clinic stacked next to pamphlets for the next adoption run, with a promise for a free health check-up and vaccinations for any pet adopted, and Lance bit into his lip to think about how he adopted his rat only for it to suffer. He whispered:

“My – er – rat’s sick.”

Allura quirked an eyebrow, as she looked down at the cage. He watched her fold her arms across her chest, while she drew in a deep breath and let out a long exhale, before shaking her head and staring at him with a stern expression. The young woman leaned forward. There was a flush to her black skin that made it clear she had worked hard, and he was sure he detected sheen of sweat to her forehead. Allura asked in a firm voice:

“Should you not seek the help of a vet?”

“I – ah – didn’t want Keith to find out my rat’s sick,” admitted Lance. “I actually got the rat just to piss him off, but it turns out he likes rats! I named it ‘Keith’ to get back at him, but he thought I’d named it that as a compliment! I kind of gave up in the end, but . . . well . . . I guess I grew attached to the thing. It’s . . . cute, you know?”

“So . . . er . . . what seems to be the problem?”

“He won’t eat.” Lance blinked rapidly and pursed his lips. “I only got him a few days ago, but he’s got such a distinct personality, you know? Like, he gnaws at the bars when he’s bored, and he always climbs up but never climbs down, and he always sleeps for an hour at three o’clock even though he sleeps all erratically. He’s also got such a cute and pointy nose, but . . . he just won’t eat. I – I don’t want him to starve to death.”

“Hmm, well, that is a bit of a pickle, I shall admit.” Allura lowered her head, but raised a closed hand to touch upon her lip. “I myself have four beautiful mice, which I cannot imagine seeing suffer in any form. Shall I fetch Coran for his opinion?”

“Do you think he’d be able to help? Hunk said he might.”

“Oh, he is one of the brightest minds I know!”

Lance smiled and perked up. He stood straight and ran a hand through his brown hair, as he chanced another glance to the door, and this time his heart raced for a whole new reason. It was a pretty warm day, enough that he hoped he hadn’t sweated much on the way to the shelter, and he winced a little at the long walk from college to work and then to the shelter, even if it was a worthy sacrifice for his beloved pet. He swallowed hard and said:

“If it’s not too much trouble, that’d be great.”

“In that case, I’ll be right back!”

Allura nodded to him and headed toward the back door. Lance waited until she was out of sight, with the door firmly closed behind her, and let out a staggered breath and ran to the ornate mirror that sat beside the bathroom doors on the opposite side of the room. He smoothed out his hair and checked his teeth, before he ran back and straightened his clothing, while he hoped that no one noticed how he ran back to the counter.

He looked over casually when Coran entered, although the smile that quirked the corner of his lips was unintentional and borne out of sheer instinct. Coran looked amazing. The door swung before him almost in slow-motion, like an actor making a grand entrance, and his blue-and-white uniform clung to him in a skin-tight manner, revealing that the middle-aged man was as toned and muscled as in his youth. He still wore thick and healthy red hair, with his purple-hued eyed bearing lines of age in the corners. Lance blushed.

A lump formed in his throat, which he swallowed back, and his heart raced so fast within his chest that he feared it would be audible to Coran. This was the one person he could never bring himself to flirt with, both out of fear of rejection and fear of outing himself, and already a sweat broke about under his arms and down his back. He moved from foot to foot, as he feigned a bright smile, and scratched awkwardly at his neck. Coran strolled over to him.

“Now then, old chap,” chirped Coran. “What seems to be the problem?”

Lance blinked and looked down to the rat cage. He slumped his shoulders, as a long sigh escaped his lips, and dropped down onto his heels to look into the cage and make eye contact with the rat that cocked its head to look back. Lance forced a smile, but the worry came back full force and his smile fell into a frown. He stood back up, cricked his back, and looked into that lively and passionate face, hoping that there would be some salvation there.

“My rat won’t eat,” mumbled Lance.

“Ah, you’ve grown attached to the little fellow, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Lance blushed and shrugged. “I – er – left all my family behind in Cuba, and I guess I didn’t realise how much I’d miss being a part of a family unit, you know? This guy is always there.  I know he can’t reply when I talk to him, and I know he probably wouldn’t care anyway, but he makes me feel less alone when there’s no one else around.”

“I have to warn, you lad, these critters only have a wee bit of time on this earth.” Coran smiled sadly with a sheen of water over his eyes. “I know what it’s like to be lonely, too, so I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to keep him well.”

“Huh? You left your family behind, too?”

“Aye, I used to live in Australia. I left behind everyone to work for Alfor in England, but then he passed away suddenly one day in a fluke accident. It’s when I took Allura and moved here to the States, hoping for a fresh start and to make a new family here, but instead it feels like we’ve traversed a whole universe. It’s a new culture, a new climate, and even a new language in some respects. These animals . . . they give us life, purpose, and great happiness.”

Coran looked over to the door out back. The lines about his eyes deepened, while his lips pursed into a white line, and that moustache – rather attractive and a defining feature – rustled as he ran a finger under his nose and blinked rapidly with a broken breath. Lance said nothing, but allowed the handsome man a minute of quiet. It didn’t take long for Coran to perk up with a bounce to his step and hands on his hips, as he swung around and winked at Lance with an exaggerated smiled. Coran asked in a loud voice:

“Tell me, what have you been feeding him?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Lance. “Just some generic food from a store.”

“Hmm, well then . . .”

The clock ticked by a little too quickly; Lance enjoyed watching how Coran quirked his head backwards, tapping out an unheard beat upon his chin, before clapping his hands together and running into the office with a clatter of sounds and a rattle of noise. He ran back out with a tiny plate filled with rather expensive looking rat food, before he twirled around and presented it on one hand like a platter waiting a guest of honour. Lance smiled and perked up in turn, comforted by the confidence of Coran and his excellent self-control.

“Right, let’s try him with this, shall we?”

Coran carefully opened the cage door. He slid inside the plate and closed the door with a soft click, until the rat scurried over and started to sniff at the food, and both men – eager to see the results – leaned down to watch whether it would finally eat. They were so close that Lance could feel the heat from Coran’s forehead and heard every breath he exhaled, and he looked up to see eyes only an inch from his and blushed profusely.

Both men jumped back. Coran entered a coughing fit, face red as he looked away, and Lance mumbled incoherently as his heart raced, unable to hold back his emotions as hands raised in a mock gesture of surrender. They both made to speak, but spoke at the exact same time. They both made to apologise, but apologised at the exact same time. Lance was ready to die from embarrassment when Coran’s eyes moved down, then – with a double-take – pointed to the cage with a bright smile. The rat was eating his food. He enjoyed the food!

“You – You did it,” chirped Lance. “Thank you!”

“Well, it’s a secret trick handed down from generation to generation in the Smythe family,” said Coran with a proud smile. “I tell you what, why don’t you come back again if it carries on being an issue. No charge! The animals must come first, after all.”

“I – I have to give you something to say ‘thank you’.”

“Your company will be ‘thanks’ enough.”

Lance blushed until his brown skin turned red. The heat burned at his cheeks, as he looked down sheepishly at his hands, and swallowed back the lump forming in his throat, while he blinked away happy tears and looked to Coran and saw another wink. It was too much to hope that Coran could mean for anything romantic, but to even be considered ‘good company’ and actually wanted was a huge compliment in itself. Lance looked to his rat and saw him going through the food at an astounding rate, and looked back to whisper happily:

“Thanks, Coran. I mean it.”

Chapter Text

Lance clutched at his backpack.

The rough straps left faint patterns on his palm, while the outer netting crinkled and creased with the pressure of his hold, and yet – as he looked across the counter – he struggled to let go and only held on all the tighter. It was warm inside the shelter. The sweat beaded under his arms and down his back, so that his shirt clung to his skin in an awkward manner. He listened to his heart race in his chest, while he gnawed at his lips and watched Coran.

Coran petted the rat upon its head, before he slid it back into its cage. The plate of food was immediately tended to by the rat, which gnawed and chewed with a happy expression, and Lance’s nervous smile fell as he thought to all the times it never ate back home. It was the longest week of his life. He looked to Coran, a question fresh upon his lips, but fell silent when he saw how Coran stood with a hand on each hip and chest puffed out in pride. Lance swallowed hard and fought back a stab of arousal, as he coughed and angled his body away.

“There,” chirped Coran. “He’s eating again!”

Lance looked to Coran, who poked at the cage with a gloved hand. He smiled and admired the sheer passion Coran held in all tasks; he would laugh at a good joke, or clap his hands together when excited, or glide about the floor with grace toward people he adored. There were times when he would flinch back in horror at a cultural difference, or whisper a sneaky aside when mischievous, and would wander into private rooms without knocking when distracted. Lance saw all those sides of him, each one a perfect piece of a whole.

He blushed again and drew in a deep breath. Lance leaned on the counter with one hand, as he half-lidded his eyes and half-smirked towards Coran, while making direct eye-contact and moving further into Coran’s personal space. The attempt at flirtation was met in turn by Coran mimicking his body language, as he leaned back and returned the look. They stayed a few inches apart, staring each other down with hunger, until Lance swallowed hard.

Lance listened to the echo of his heart within his ears, while a cold sweat broke over his body, and – for the first time in his life – he realised someone was actually reciprocating his affections, and his mouth grew dry and his muscles grew stiff. He jumped back and spluttered for breath, while Coran pulled back with a soft chuckle and brought a closed hand to his mouth. Lance rubbed the back of his neck and licked at his lips, while he watched Coran stifle back his laughter, and struggled to find words through his nervousness:

“Y-Yeah, but he never eats at home.”

“Well, it’s only been a week.” Coran reached over to pat his arm. “He eats every night here, though, eh? It’s nothing to worry about! He’ll be eating for you in no time, I promise. If it gets to that point, I’ll even teach you my secret recipe! It’s easy to make.”

“I – I really can’t thank you enough for your help.” Lance smiled and kicked at the floor. “I actually kind of got you a present to say ‘thanks’, but I just . . . you’re the only person that gets me, you know? You know what it’s like to be away from your family, as well as what it’s like for people to dismiss you as just a joker, and you . . . you understand.”

Lance slid his backpack down into the crook of his arm, as he fished around inside for the box of chocolates, and – wondering if it was worth a substantial chunk of his pay cheque for the luxury brand – he quickly handed it to Coran with head low and eyes scrunched shut. He heard a soft chuckle from Coran again, which forced him to look up at the man behind the counter, and his head grew light and vision spotty until he feared he would faint, but somehow he stayed on his feet and gave a trembling smile.

“Ah, here you go,” mumbled Lance.

He noticed a wince to Coran’s face. His heart sank. Lance blinked rapidly, as his shoulders slumped and blood ran cold, but said nothing as Coran took the chocolates from him with a smile that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. Coran held the box with a gentle touch, before he placed them upon the counter with a slight bite of his lip, and turned to look to Lance with a soft expression and a slow nod of acknowledgement. Lance let out a broken breath.

“It’s lovely,” said Coran. “Thank you, my boy.”

“You don’t like it, do you?”

“Oh, it’s not that at all!” Coran jumped back and raised his hands in surrender. “I – ah – it’s just that I’m a teensy bit . . . well . . . vegan. I – I very much appreciate the gesture! It’s the first real gift I’ve ever received from anyone since Alfor’s death . . . except from Shiro and Allura, of course! It makes me happier than I can express for you just to think of me.”

“I – I’m so sorry! I – I screw up everything, don’t I?” Lance dropped his head with a sigh. “I get everything wrong; Keith is everyone’s favourite, Pidge is the resident tech expert, and Hunk is a culinary expert, and I -? I can’t even thank you without making a mistake.”

“Now, don’t be too harsh on yourself, lad!”

Coran marched around the counter. He stood in front of Lance, a good few inches taller than him, and looked him sternly in the eyes. Lance looked away; he stared upon a display upon the wall, where dozens of photos of recently homed dogs and cats stared back upon him, but Coran firmly took his chin between his fingers and forced him to make eye contact. There was no hint of malice in those eyes, neither was there a sign of judgment, but instead his expression softened and his eyes watered, as he licked at his lips and whispered:

“The greatest gift you can give me is a smile.”

It was all Lance needed to hear. He fought back an urge to embrace Coran, although he raised his hands to his chest and clenched his hands tight, as a smile broke upon his face ear-to-ear, and he saw how Coran blushed and smiled in turn. There was a creak from a door nearby, followed by the start of a question from a female voice, but – in a matter of seconds – the door quickly closed to a ‘sorry’ and they were alone again. Lance laughed.

“I really do like you,” admitted Lance.

“Well, then let me say that I really, really like you.” Coran winked and nodded to the office. “It seems this little fellow is eating well, so why don’t we get a wee bite, too? I actually baked a chocolate cake today – ah – just for you . . . I didn’t want to show you, as it may have sank on one side and the picture I drew of you in icing somehow turned out looking a bit . . .”

“Handsome?” Lance suggested. “Cute? Gorgeous? Perfection?”

“Obscene,” admitted Coran with a blush.

Lance blinked in surprise. He remembered the time he accidentally burned Hunk’s shitake mushrooms to put into some pasta, so he knew that there was no way he could criticise another’s cooking skills, but there was something so wonderfully sweet about a man willing to bake for him despite lacking in bakery talents, and something so beautiful about how desperate he was to make sure it was perfect. Perfect for Lance. Lance wiped away his tears with the back of his hand, as he stepped one step closer to Coran and admitted:

“No one’s baked me a cake before.”

“No one’s bought me chocolates before,” confessed Coran. “I tell you what, why don’t you eat the chocolates and I eat the cake? The one thing we’ll share will be conversation, a bottle of white wine, and maybe – if you’ll permit me the liberty – a goodnight kiss goodnight?”

Coran blushed until his cheeks were a dark red. Lance laughed, taking pity upon him, and stretched upward to place a chaste kiss to his cheek, before he pulled back down with a blush in turn, watching as Coran’s eyes widened and he raised a slow hand to touch upon the spot where Lance’s lips met flushed skin. They stood awkwardly beside one another, while the rat within the cage scratched about and Allura sang a song out back. Lance fought back the urge to kiss Coran again, as he said in a nervous voice:

“It sounds like a date.”

* * *

“He’s still eating pretty well, huh?”

Lance cuddled up beside Coran with a smile, as he looked over to the rat. The cage sat upon the desk within the office, next to a stack of paperwork and old files, and Lance smiled as he realised the old adage ‘cluttered desk, cluttered mind’ was not one that applied to his boyfriend in the slightest. Coran sat upon the reclining office-chair, while Lance sat upon his lap and leaned his head into the crook of his neck, and he cherished how those hands stroked light patterns upon his back and thigh. It was quiet after closing hours. It was comfortable.

They sat and listened to Allura in the kennels. Shiro laughed loud enough for the sound to travel through the walls, as their footsteps walked in unison, and the phone rang from within the reception only to go straight through to the voice-machine. It was a home from home. The warmth within the room, along with old Cuban music over the radio, almost was enough to fool him into thinking himself back in his old bedroom in the family home. He sighed.

“So – er – I had a question,” mumbled Lance.

Coran hummed in response, awakening from a half-sleep, while he reached up to push back a lock of hair from Lance’s face, and – unable to hold back his affection – Lance blushed and pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose. Coran chuckled and held him ever closer. It was warm and soft against Coran, with strong and toned arms holding him in place, and the office was their safe space away from the pressures of the outside world. Coran whispered:

“Oh? Is everything alright, love?”

There was a heavy scent of takeout in the air, as a few boxes littered the nearby shelves, and Lance chuckled to think how Hunk would absolutely murder him for not taking him on his offer for a homemade picnic for the two of them. He nuzzled against Coran, as he enjoyed how the slight stubble grazed against his bare chin. A few kisses were placed along his jaw, until Lance bit his lip and pulled back with a shuddered sigh, and he forced himself to hold back on his urge to make out in order to hold a serious discussion. Coran chuckled.

“Er, kind of,” muttered Lance.

“It’s kind of alright?”

“Well, usually Hunk clears out of the dorm once a month.” Lance swallowed back a lump. “He uses it as an excuse for a date night with Shay, but it’s really to let me have a few hours to video-call my folks back home, and . . . we’ve been dating for around two months now, right? I wondered if you’d want to talk with them? They’re dying to see you.”

“That’s a big commitment, lad. I’m absolutely honoured you’d want me to meet your folks, and I think I have the perfect suit and cape to dress for the occasion, but are you certain you want me to meet them? I am – ah – a teeny bit older than you.”

“Hey, I’m not asking for their permission.”

Lance pulled back just enough to give his boyfriend a firm stare, while he half-smirked and reached up to lightly smack Coran’s forehead with his fingers, and Coran – through his laughter – grabbed his wrist and firmly held it some distance from his head. Lance tried with his other hand. It was held in turn. A few seconds past with them staring each other down, until Coran gave him a devilish look and let go, and then . . . a tickle attack.

It brought out peals of laughter from Lance. He struggled to escape, laughing until tears ran down his face, and he soon slid off the chair and plopped onto the floor, where Coran followed him and sat beside him with equal laughter. They cuddled up and lay beside one another, until they struggled to breathe and their sides hurt, and soon Lance trailed kisses down Coran’s neck and cheeks and jaw. It wouldn’t be long before Shiro came back to discuss the adoption drive, with Allura in toe, and so Lance confessed:

“I know they’ll love you, though, because I love you.”

Coran smiled until his eyes crinkled and cheeks reddened, and a tear formed in the corner of his eye until it fell down upon his plump lips. Lance rolled onto Coran’s chest, so that he could play with the lapels of his uniformed shirt, and smiled when two gloved hands stroked up his back and rested in a rather respectable place. Coran said in a shaky voice:

“Then I shall be honoured.”

* * *

“Come on, Coran,” groaned Lance.

He sat astride his fiancé upon the king-sized bed. The bedroom was still decorated according to Coran’s tastes; the walls were bright shades of silver and blue, with various posters and ornaments from all over the globe, and – pride-of-display on the opposite wall – sat a huge framed photograph of Coran, Alfor, and Allura in front of a splendid vista. There was the scent of Coran’s cologne heavy in the air, with a tiny trace of incense in the mix.

Coran looked handsome splayed upon the sheets, with love-bites trailing his stomach until they stopped at the trail of hair that led to his softened member, and Lance smiled at the sight of a few stray grey hairs that marked his age and he still denied were in existence. They promised not to go all the way until their wedding night, but that hadn’t stopped Lance from exploring every inch of skin, to the point he memorised every freckle upon those shoulders and every little stretch mark upon those toned and muscular buttocks. Lance smirked.

He looked to the suitcases and boxes scattered about the bedroom. A stack of papers and textbooks were in an unorganised mess in one corner of the floor, along with a makeshift nest that was filled with cushions and chocolates and blankets, and – right beside the printed draft of his dissertation – sat his laptop running onto an old-fashioned screensaver. The cap ready for graduation hung from a hook on the back of the en suite door, a sign of things to come.

“We’ve got the wedding planned right after graduation.”

“I am well aware,” teased Coran.

Lance looked down to Coran and frowned. They were both too sated for him to try and extort the answer from him through edging and foreplay, but he needed to know and Coran would only ever press his lips into a tight line and hum some old British theme tune. It was vaguely familiar, something about ‘space’ and ‘more or less’ came to mind, and sometimes Lance would find himself humming alongside in a distracted manner. He sighed and collapsed down.

They lay side-by-side with sheets tangled about their legs, while Lance looked to the rat happily eating within his cage on a far side-table beside the sofa, and the sheer luxury was something Lance would never fully comprehend. The dressing room beside the en suite was bigger than his entire room back in the dormitory, and the en suite itself was bigger than the office back at the shelter or the veterinary clinic. The rat adjusted to the move pretty well, even in his advanced age, and ate happily at Coran’s secret recipe on a customised plate.

“We’ve been together for – what – nearly three years?”

“Three beautiful years,” sighed Coran.

“So are you ever going to tell me how you get him to eat?” Lance rolled onto his side with a childish pout. “You’re willing to share your house with me, willing to share your life with me, and willing to – which can’t come soon enough, by the way – share your body with me, but you’re not willing to share a recipe for rat food? Seriously? Come on, man!”

“Well, truthfully? You simply changed his food when you first adopted him. He’s a fussy little bugger, which is why I gave him back the original food whenever you stopped by, and – lo and behold – he was much happier! And, ah, maybe a little sugar to sweeten.”

“Sugar to sweeten? That’s it? All this time?”

Coran blushed. He looked away with his tooth biting into his lip, while Lance sighed and snuggled up closer with his fingers trailing through thick chest hair, and he soon rested his hand over where Coran’s heart beat and felt how quickly it raced. Lance furrowed his brow and wrapped his arms around Coran, kissing him upon his collarbone until Coran sighed and hugged him back, and soon then were entwined with one another. The warm and slightly sweaty body was a strong comfort against him, and soon Coran whispered in a shaky voice:

“It got you back into the shelter every night.”

“Yeah, I guess it did,” admitted Lance.

“It was the highlight of my night, just waiting for you to stop by after hours.” Coran sighed with a smile. “I was scared that you would stop coming once you knew the trick, and – well – at the risk of being a little sentimental . . . nothing is as sweet as you.”

Lance laughed, as he buried his head into the crook of Coran’s neck. The birds tweeted from the balcony, while Allura sang from somewhere in her rooms opposite theirs, and – for a brief second – Lance heard her song falter and laughter from Shiro. He blushed and wondered whether it would be too intimate to shower with Coran, all while imagining how the water would look dripping from that perfect body. He fought off an erection and smiled.

“I love you, Coran,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Lance.”