Chapter Text
Keith squinted, heat engulfing him as he opened up the oven to remove the pastries. He set them down on the cooling rack before putting the next batch in at a rather swift pace. It was a quarter past seven and he would be opening in less than an hour, yet he was nowhere near as prepared as he wanted. He had meant to get there by 6:00, it being the first day and all, just to be ready. He had slept in, though, and hadn’t arrived until nearly 6:50. So here he was, sloppily icing slices of carrot cake while he managed to check on the last batch of pastries still in the oven.
Keith had spent a good portion of his last 4 years saving to open this bakery, but now that he was here he wasn’t sure how certain he was about it. After all, it could all be for nothing. No one could show up, or he could have outrageous competition, or maybe he just won’t be as good at this as he thought he’d be. He pushed that thinking in the back of his head, however, as he stocked the display case. Half-way there.
He began mixing the dough for the cinnamon rolls, which honestly he should have done earlier, keeping a careful eye on the clock. He had time. A timer went off and he popped the pastries out of the oven, making his way through the kitchen as if it were an intricately choreographed dance. Put powdered sugar on those, put that in the fridge, turn down the oven, ice this, plate that, and—and someone was knocking? He frantically whipped his head around, glaring at the clock. 7:34. He wasn’t open for another half hour! Who the hell was knocking at his door?
“We’re closed!” He shouted, hoping the culprit would hear him and leave. Apparently not, because the knocking continued. With a sigh, he wadded up his apron and trudged over to the door, raising his eyebrows out of irritation as he pointed at the closed sign. A tall, tan man with vibrant blue eyes incessantly knocking on the glass doors. “We’re closed.” He repeated, louder, frowning.
“I know!” The man said, smiling cheekily. “I brought flowers! I’m from next door, The Greenhouse!” He brought a bouquet of lilies out from behind him, surprising Keith. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”
“Uh, thanks,” Keith said awkwardly, not looking the man in the eye, “but I’m pretty busy. Could you come back later? I’m still preparing.” Just then, another timer went off and Keith gave the man a small wave before jolting back to the kitchen.
Luckily, preparations went off without a hitch. He opened in time, and actually had a surprising amount of people for his opening day. He had to work frantically to keep up with stock, and with only him working the shop, it was rough. “I need to remember to print out that help wanted sign,” Keith mumbled to himself, switching out trays in the display case. Just then, a man caught his eye. The man from earlier that morning.
“Hey!” He called, bounding over to him. Up close, Keith could see he had freckles, and his nose was slightly upturned. He was cute.
“Hi,” Keith said with a strained smile, wiping his forehead. “Sorry about this morning.”
The man made some expressive gesture with his hands Keith couldn’t interpret, along with an odd “pshhaww” sound. “No worries man, you look swamped.” He held out his spare hand, an olive branch between the two of them. “I’m Lance, owner of The Greenhouse. Nice to make your acquaintance.” The man, Lance, added a wink for flourish and Keith tried not to get too flustered.
“Keith,” He said, taking the hand and giving it a firm shake. Lance’s enthusiastic shake was eccentric, but weak compared to Keith’s firm, business like grip.
“Well Keith, I brought you flowers for your opening!” Lance said, laying the bouquet from earlier down on the table. Just then, an irritated middle aged woman cleared her throat to make them aware of the growing line.
“Thanks, just a minute,” he told Lance, jumping back to the register. “What’ll you have today?” He took the woman’s order and boxed up her cookies, hoping he hadn’t made a bad impression on his opening day. It was always good to have repeat customers. Lance was still there, and though the man was nice, it was rather distracting. “Don’t you have to be at your own shop?” He asked in between customers. Lance shrugged, still standing right next to the counter.
“My friend Hunk is watching the store right now, so I’m good.” Lance leaned back on the counter, stretching his arms. His shirt rose, showing some of his midriff. “So, cats or dogs?”
Keith appreciated the guy introducing himself, but he was beginning to get annoying. Today was incredibly important, and Keith should really be focusing on his customers, but it turned out this guy was intent on getting to know him. “I’m actually pretty busy, we can talk on my lunch break if you want,” Keith told him, counting out a kid’s change from the register.
Lance frowned, looking back towards Keith. “Am I in the way?”
“You are kind of bugging me, yeah.” Keith grunted, not looking at the other man. As soon as the words left his mouth, he wondered if he should have said something else. Saying the other man was ‘bugging him’ might have been a bit much.
“Oh,” Lance deadpanned, looking irked, “I see how it is.” Lance laid the flowers down on the counter rather violently, raising his eyebrows at Keith. “I was just trying to be nice, sorry fella.”
“I didn’t mean--” Keith started, but Lance was already walking away from the counter. Keith sighed, turning back to the sickly sweet couple giggling as they stared at the display case. “How can I help you?”
Keith didn’t think about the other man for the rest of the day. He managed to find a vase for the flowers and set them up on the display case. He managed to scrape through opening day and breathed out a sigh of relief when he turned the sign to ‘closed.’ Clean up took longer than he would have wanted, scrubbing down tables with sticky messes and powdered sugar, taking out a rather heavy trash bag, wiping grubby fingerprints off the display case, and worst of all, cleaning the kitchen. He washed the bowls and utensils, made sure all the ingredients were safely stored, and spent way too much time sweeping up spilt flour. He was just about done when he remembered to put up the help wanted sign. He placed it in the window, right beneath the closed sign, and smiled. A successful first day.
He did one more sweep of the store, hung his apron up, and went to lock the store. It was then he got his first look at The Greenhouse, his third look at Lance. Lance was closing up as well, watering his plants and adjusting his displays. Keith felt bad for insulting Lance, and decided to make up for it. He ran back into the shop and grabbed a spare cinnamon roll, glad he had decided to keep them. He made his way over to the store, feeling a little anxious. “Hey, Lance?” Keith called, knocking on the open door frame, “It’s Keith.”
He heard a surprised grunt, saw some rustling leaves, and then Lance appeared out of nowhere. “Hello Keith,” Lance said bitterly, sticking his tongue out at him. “What’re you doing here?”
Keith bristled at the rude, obnoxious behavior. “I was going to apologize,” he began, watching as Lance’s face hardened. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t going to work. “You weren’t bugging me, I was just… busy?” He tried, but Lance was already smirking maliciously.
“Shut up mullet, I don’t want to hear it.” Lance stood, hands on his hips, and glared at him. A real death glare, staring right into his soul. Forget it. If Lance was going to get so worked up over one little comment, Keith didn’t want to befriend him.
“Well that’s just great, ‘cause I don’t want to say it anymore!” Keith held up the cinnamon roll, making sure Lance got a full understanding of his implications when he took a bite out of it. “See you tomorrow!” And with that, Keith stormed out of the stuffy flower shop and stalked home. Maybe the first day didn’t go so well.
Keith arrived earlier the next morning, before Lance or anyone else had arrived. His preparations were a bit over the top, but he had some extra time and decided to bake while he could. He was icing small, intricate yellow flowers on a cupcake when a clatter from the front of the shop made him jump. Just great. His steady hand was pointless when he leapt two feet in the air, and the icing on that cupcake was a mess. Keith closed his eyes and focused on his breath, doing his best not to lose his temper. “What would Shiro say?” Keith mumbled, wiping off the sloppy icing. “Patience yields focus.”
His patience was ruined, however, by more banging from the front of the store. “For the love of—what is it?!” He shouted as he stomped to the front of the bakery, spotting an all too familiar face. It was Lance, bundled up in a light jacket and carrying a Starbucks as he rapped on the glass obnoxiously. He grinned when he saw Keith. It wasn’t a friendly grin, but a knowing smirk, and it scared Keith.
“Hey mullet!” Lance called, that awful shit-eating grin on his face. “Remember Hunk? My friend who was watching the shop yesterday? Okay, so we had this deal, right, and I remembered he’s a really good chef! So! I decided to sell his cookies along with my flowers, to give you a little competition. Just cuz.” Before Keith could respond, Lance was gone, galloping over to his store. Keith was puzzled. He had a pretty good feeling people would go to the bakery to get their culinary needs rather than a flower shop, but he decided he didn’t need to go out of his way to point that out to Lance.
The flowers from the first day had begun to wilt, and looking at them soured his mood, so Keith threw them out and set out another display to replace the vase. He was ready for a successful day, as long as Lance restrained himself.
“You’re hiring?” The smaller boy—or girl, Keith wasn’t quite sure—asked, eyeing him over the counter. They had a mob of hair and oversized wire-rimmed glasses, and felt the need to stand on their toes to see eye to eye. Keith nodded, preoccupied with another customer to give the inquirer his full attention. “Excellent, I’d like to apply, please.” The person grinned rather mischievously and rocked back and forth on their feet.
“I’ll grab you an application, just give me a sec,” Keith murmured, bagging the last blueberry muffin in the display case and moving to grab another batch. When he returned, he also had a crinkled sheet of paper and a pen for the kid.
“Thanks man,” they said, pushing their glasses up then waving as they sat at a nearby table to fill out the form. They seemed like a nice enough kid, and Keith was more than willing to give them a try.
“Keith what the FUCK!” A loud, irritable voice cried from the front entrance. Several heads turned and mothers covered their children’s ears, scandalized.
Keith bristled, glaring at the tall man. Lance, again. He waltzed in, clad in slim khakis and a pink polo with “The Greenhouse” embroidered in green thread. Keith ran out from the counter and quickly grabbed Lance by the collar. “Please DO NOT use that language in my place of business, there are children here and I’d like to have a pretty respectable atmosphere!” Keith whisper-yelled angrily, dragging Lance out of the main room and into his kitchen. “What is it that caused you to scream obscenities at me at 11 AM?”
Lance sniffed, holding back a chuckle and glancing down irately at Keith. “I was just shocked is all, ‘cause Hunk went and bought some of your carrot cake and damn! I was expecting subpar, stale, dry, flavorless, cardboard garbage,” Lance started, making Keith snort.
“Glad to know you thought so highly of me.”
“Lemme finish. So I tried it, so I could laugh at you, but it was the best carrot cake I’ve ever had! What the Hell do you do to it?”
Keith rolled his eyes, letting go of his grip on Lance and glancing out front. No one was in line at the moment, so he was good. “Lance, I didn’t go to culinary school for nothing. You really think someone would open a bakery if they couldn’t cook? It’s not like you opened your place knowing nothing of botany.” Lance opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it. “Lance, how often do you abandon your shop during the day?”
“I do not abandon my shop! For your information, it’s my break.”
“So you came to scream at me about my carrot cake?”
“Obviously.”
“Alright….” Keith gave Lance a concerned gaze, trying not to worry about the obsessive compulsive behavior the other man was displaying. “How are Hunk’s cookies selling?” Keith asking, surprising himself and Lance. Neither of them expected him to remember.
“Oh, we already sold out. Most people got them with whatever flowers they bought, and Hunk didn’t make too many. Guess we weren’t really big competition.”
“Lance, you run a flower shop.” Keith raised an eyebrow, not amused by Lance’s shenanigans. “Anyway, unlike you I’ve got a store to run, so good riddance.” Keith pushed Lance out of the kitchen just as a new customer walked in. Lance glowered at him, stomping out with his hands shoved in his pockets. Keith chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Something was wrong with that guy.
“Hey mister!” The little goblin from earlier said, prodding at his shoulder. “Where should I put my application?”
“I’ll take it, thanks,” Keith said, looking for the name on the form. Pidge. “I’ll call you back soon, Pidge.” Pidge gave him a salute then scurried out the door in a rather comical way, and that was when Keith realized they didn’t really scurry out—they glided out. On heelys™. Okay, he definitely had to hire that kid.
The rest of the day passed swiftly, and he received no more surprise visits from Lance until the evening. It wasn’t Lance at first, it was actually a big, Hulk like guy that seemed more like a teddy bear when he spoke. “Hi, I’m Hunk!” He said with a amicable grin. “I understand you and Lance got off to a bad start, but I’d like to vouch for him. Lance will hold a grudge for the smallest things for eternity, however he’s actually a really cool guy. I hope his pride doesn’t get in the way, you seem like a neat guy.”
Keith smiled, feeling touched by this kind, gentle man. “Thanks Hunk,” he said, smiling. “I definitely don’t have anything against you, but I don’t know if I’ll ever warm up to your friend. I’m not much of a people person to begin with.”
Hunk nodded understandingly. “No pressure, sorry for bothering you then. I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for drinks with us, but if you’re not comfortable with that then no worries.”
Keith paused, looking back at the man. He was inviting him to have drinks? That was so… nice. Unlike Lance. A small idea began to form in his head and he tried to hide his smirk. He had a feeling Lance wasn’t too pumped about Hunk’s invitation. “You know what? I’d love to go.” Hunk grinned, pleased he had swayed Keith’s opinion.
“Great! Just come on over to The Greenhouse once you’re done closing shop!”
“See you in a few,” Keith said with a nod. He was going to give Lance one hell of a night.