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Lance yawned as he pressed the button on the coffee maker, inhaling the sweet aroma it gave off. He rubbed his eyes as he shuffled his way to the fridge. He took out eggs and cheese and—he shook the carton the barely there splashes of milk echoing in the container.
He shook his head and sighed. Closing the door, he uncapped the magnetic dry erase marker on the side of the fridge and wrote—in slightly passive aggressive strokes—MILK so it encompassed the whole side of the door.
Slightly more awake he mumbled to himself about annoying roommates who always put empty cartons back in the fridge and just because it has a little in there doesn’t mean it’s not empty—
“What are you mumbling to yourself about now?”
Lance looked up to see said roommate who was inconsiderate of proper fridge etiquette. He planted a hand on his hip and glared right at the sleepy sight. Wrinkled sleep-shirt, half-lidded eyes, and mussed hair altogether making an illegal amount of cuteness from his normally grumpy roommate. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper and darker than normal; he must have stayed up late again.
Lance shook the container, the disappointing splashes echoing the emptiness of his milk-less tum. “Keith, two mouthfuls of milk do not qualify for it to go back into the fridge. Just finish it!”
Keith squinted at him. “Lance…I’m lactose intolerant.”
He reared back for a moment, shaking his head and blinking at his one and only roommate. “Then who the hell’s been drinking the milk?”
Keith made an ‘I dunno’ sound and shrugged, shirt falling off his shoulder leaving his collarbone exposed. He walked over to the cabinet and took out one blue and one red mug. He didn’t bother to smother a yawn pouring coffee into the blue mug.
“It’s two sugars, right?”
“Yeah…” Lance decided to put the milk mystery on the shelf for now. He gathered his ingredients in his arms and set it on the counter next to the stove. Keith handed his mug over, leaning against the counter to watch Lance cook, cheek squished in his palm from where he braced himself on the counter.
Too cute. Too cute. Too cute.
He took a sip of his coffee, the rich, perfectly sweet coffee waking him up enough to make him confident in his ability to handle a gas burner. He sighed, setting his mug with the precious liquid to the side.
Looking at Keith with his own mug in hand, the cartoon ninja glaring at him from a red background, and smiled. “Eggs good?”
Keith nodded, taking another deep sip. “Eggs sound great.”
-
Keith shivered and huddled further into his thin jacket, the leather was good keeping out wind but it was not very insulated. He just hadn’t got the chance to get his winter stuff yet, so he just had to deal with trudging through the thin coating of snow on the ground in tennis shoes and thin jackets that did nothing against the early-morning wind.
He sighed, breath steaming in front of him and looked up. It was a gentle snowfall of flurries, tiny snowflakes that disintegrated not long after landing. While he wasn’t a big fan of waking up so early it was pretty. Quiet. Like he was in a snow globe.
His breath misted around him again, head tilting back to stare at the sky, mentally groaning. Why he thought he could do an 8 AM class he didn’t know. Why he took this class in general he didn’t know.
Footsteps crunched up behind him, arm slinging around his shoulders.
“You look a little frozen there, Mullet.”
Despite the fact that he told himself he shouldn’t, Keith leaned into the warmth, absorbing Lance’s body heat like he was a corn snake. “Gee, I wonder why. It’s not like it’s winter or anything. What’re you doing here anyway? Your class isn’t until one.”
“I have a meeting with my professor. I was on my way there when I saw you turning into a Keithsicle.” Lance teased, not missing a beat. He adjusted his scarf more firmly around his neck. How the hell was Lance so warm? He was just in a sweater, scarf, jeans and his jacket. His jacket that was a lot more suitable for fall might he add. He wasn’t even shivering, the jerk.
Granted, he wasn’t that much better, he didn’t even have a scarf, but Lance should be just as cold as he is. The fact that he’s not was just plain rude.
“Why aren’t you wearing something warmer, you knucklehead?” Keith felt a few taps on the side of his head.
Okay, he might be freezing his tail off but like hell he’d let Lance know that. “I’m just fine. I’m not cold.”
The look that Lange gave him told him exactly how much he believed that bold-faced lie. “You’re only in a jacket, a cropped jacket. Keith, I can practically see your lips turning blue. You’re cold.”
Keith pouted and started to walk faster, kicking up small bits of snow. “Well, I’ll be warm when I get inside then.”
Lance scoffed and held Keith back by his shoulders. Keith mourned the warmth when Lance removed his arm. Holding him still Lance stepped in front of him, snowy clouds a pretty misty background behind him. Small snowflakes clung to his eyelashes, which fell when he blinked warm blue eyes that crinkled at the corners.
His lips, somehow, were still soft and pink despite the cold winter air, compared to his own dry and cracked lips. And he’s not going to lie when he has no idea what Lance just said for the last minute.
His roommate looked like some sort of summer deity that took a wrong turn and got lost in some winter wonderland. Hell, he might just be the epitome of summer; he was so warm.
He’s just going to let himself have this one.
“Keith?” Lance laughed, breath floating up around them in a wreath. “Did the cold freeze your brain?”
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry, late night.”
Lance’s eyes took on a sympathetic edge. “Again?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I said that I can’t have you freezing all the time, so as soon as you’re done with class we’re getting you a proper jacket.” He started to take off his jacket. “In the meantime, take this.” Before Keith knew it Lance wrestled his backpack off to drop soundlessly on the snow-covered concrete and wrapped his jacket around his cropped one.
“Wha—“ His arm was maneuvered into a sleeve. It was so much warmer than he expected, the smell of cinnamon and a muskier scent making him dizzy. “Lance, what the fuck, I can’t take your jacket.”
His other arm was wrangled into the sleeve. Two brown hands snuggly brought the ends together and zipped it up all the way to his chin, lingering on the collar before dropping. White teeth peeked out to bite down a smile. “Of course I can, you’re cold.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“Nah, New York raised. I can handle the cold more than you southerners.” Keith’s brow furrowed, regretting telling him of his Texan heritage. He opened his mouth to quip back—
“It looks good on you.”
His jaw snapped shut.
Lance was looking at him, small smile and eyes round and soft before widening. “Uh, in like, um, a completely aesthetic way of course.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I should go, got that meeting and all.” He turned and jogged away scarf ends trailing behind him. “See you after, Keith!”
Keith smiled to himself before making his way to his class again. It was only when he was certain Lance was gone that he let himself bring the collar of his jacket over his nose and inhaled deeply.
Yeah, he’s going to let himself have this one too.
-
Lance didn’t know what would greet him when he came back from work at 11 PM on a Tuesday night but he certainly didn’t think it would be his roommate’s butt.
He blinked slowly, shaking his head because it might possibly be a fever dream. It wasn’t the first time Keith’s butt starred in one. But, nope, it was still there, hanging over the back of the couch his face groaning into a cushion, notecards scattered everywhere. Lance let his backpack drop to the floor with a dull thud, kicking the door shut behind him and wincing at the noise. Hopefully, their neighbors didn’t hear that.
Keith stopped his groaning for a brief moment and, knowing he had an audience, knowing it was Lance, groaned louder. He splayed out his arms; grabbing what notecards he could, before throwing them. Not even looking up to see them flutter down like broken butterflies.
Lance huffed out a laugh, kicked off his shoes, and walked over to sit on the back of the couch, right next to Keith’s butt. He patted the perky rear. Laughing at the bodily flinch at the unexpected touch and Keith’s half yelp half screech he let himself fall back. Knees hooked around the back of the couch he stared at the ceiling waiting for Keith to speak.
A minute or two later of grumbling Keith turned his head, facing Lance. He wasn’t looking at him but at the notecards between them, face slightly pink and unintentional pout in place. “Remind me why education is important?”
Lance turned his head, his face was just inches from Keith’s. It was quiet in the apartment. A peaceful sort of quiet with the comfortable hum of the refrigerator and the occasional whoosh of water in the background. The dim light of the lamp flickered, dancing over Keith’s tired face.
He shrugged, hands flicking out. “To earn a degree that would give us good jobs to be able to live?”
Keith sighed. His breath fanned across Lance’s face smelling of peppermint. He must’ve just been ready to study and go to bed before his existential crisis. ”Great, that’ll help in the future.” He turned his head back into the cushion.
“…You know I fart there right?”
Keith flung himself back, arms out and ramrod straight to be as far away from the fart cushions as possible. “EUGH!”
Lance laughed as he did a half sit-up and brought his legs down to sit crisscross on the couch. “You don’t have to stay, you know. You could drop out if that’s what you really want.”
Keith let himself fall forward and twisted his body to mirror Lance’s, except he was hunched over and resting his chin on the heel of his palm. “I can’t though. I’m already committed; I only have a year left. I just have to get through this dumbass class I’ll never use again.” He rubbed his forehead, a pinched look on his face. “I’m just burnt out.”
“First off buddy, it’s because you’re shit at time management and self-care.” Lance said holding up a finger. He pressed that finger against Keith’s lips when they parted, argument sure on the tip of his tongue. “Don’t argue with me it’s true. You keep trying to do all these things at once, which only makes you not do them, which causes you to stress, which causes you to be lying face down over the back of the couch at midnight.” He ignored Keith’s glare. “Second, as soon as finals are over it’s you, me, and a movie. Third,” he removed his finger and spread out his arms like he was demonstrating a marvelous gift, which he was. “I’ll help you study.”
Keith smirked, amused. “You’ll help me study.”
“Well, why can’t I?” Lance demanded, squinting at him, arms crossed.
The boy across from him scoffed. “The amount of knowledge you know on this subject could fit on a paper airplane.”
“Hey!” Lance exclaimed before snatching up a notecard. “I’ll have you know I don’t need to know the subject to help you study and—I have no idea what any of this even says.” He held the card up to his face as if that would help him process it better. “I thought you were majoring in microbiology not words that I can’t pronounce.”
Keith laughed, low and intimate. He reached forward and plucked the card out of his hands. “It’s easier if you break them up.” He fiddled with the card before looking up at him through his lashes, mouth twisted to the side. “You really wanna help?”
“Of course, Keith! Though,” Lance took out his phone and tapped the screen. “We might want to do it tomorrow, it’s like twelve thirty.”
Keith nodded, mouth hitched up to one side. “Thanks, Lance.”
Lance could feel his heart slow down and skip a beat at that smile. “Anytime, Keith,” he whispered.
-
Keith frowned into the fridge. He could have sworn that he had leftovers in there. Well, Lance’s leftovers. Ever since the fire Lance forbade him from the stove, so he just cooks for the both of them. But he could have sworn last night’s supper was right there that morning! He shook his head; maybe Lance ate it.
He had to peek at the milk though, ever since Lance freaked out about it a few weeks ago he felt paranoid. He knew he wasn’t drinking it, and so far as he knew Lance only used it for cereal and coffee. Not enough to justify an entire gallon disappearing once a week with one person drinking it.
He shook the container. Yup, a lot less from that morning too. What the fuck.
The front door slammed shut. “Honey! I’m home!”
Even if Lance couldn’t see him he had to roll his eyes, smile playing at the corner of his lips. Clearing his throat he forced his voice in a falsetto. “In the kitchen, Ricky! Have you seen Ethel and Fred?”
He turned around just in time to see Lance drop his backpack on the floor, pointing a finger at him. “Okay, we’ve discussed this. I appreciate you playing along with my bits but don’t do the voice. That shit’s creepy.”
Keith smirked. “Why do you think I do it?”
Lance squinted at him, mouth pursing but playful. “Jerk. And to answer your question I haven’t seen Pidge or Hunk. I think they still have finals. Which, by the way,” he flung his arms up and stood straight, like he was starting the routine for YMCA, “I’m done with finals!”
Keith nodded and held out his hand, which was enthusiastically slapped. “Nice.”
“Do you know what that means, Keithers?”
“What does that mean, Lance,” it was not phrased as a question.
“It meeeans,” Lance drew out, “ That we’re going to the movies!”
Keith’s mouth dropped into a small o. He almost forgot. He ignored the slight fluttering in his chest, choosing to smile instead. “I almost forgot.”
Lance gaped at him. “Dude! How could you forget? It’s a celebration! A victory! We fought this semester and won! We need to go out. Go on,” Lance herded him out of the kitchen, “get dressed, in fifteen minutes we’re leaving.”
Keith braced his feet against the linoleum, pushing against the hands at his shoulders. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Well, we’re going out! Let’s actually make an effort or something.”
“Okaayy?” Keith drawled.
Thirty minutes later they were ready to go. Keith bit his lip as he buttoned up his shirt. He’s never worn it other than for formal events, but…going to the movies with Lance felt like something to dress up for. He was right, after living in his sweats for the past month it felt nice to actually put forth an effort into something, like taking a shower after a long day.
He was debating on whether or not to roll up the sleeves when Lance left his room. Keith looked up and all he could really think was
“Wow.”
Keith blushed, rubbing his palms down the sides of his pants inconspicuously. “Uh, you too.”
There really wasn’t any other way to describe it. Lance looked good. Really good. It might have been the impact of actually wearing clean fitted clothes after the tornado of old sweats and holey and stained T-shirts but he looked good. A white T-shirt peeked from under the soft knitted sweater clung to his lean frame, actually showing off the nice V torso that he worked hard to get, his skinny jeans dark and doing wonders for—ahem.
A flush made its way across Lance’s cheeks a pleased smile making an appearance. “Thanks,” he murmured. He reached out and pulled out a new jacket, a dark grey wool trench coat with large buttons sealing the front, a collar instead of a hoodie like his previous jacket making him more mature. Shrugging it on he asked, “You ready to go?”
Keith grabbed his newly acquired jacket, hands drowning in the overly large sleeves, scent of cinnamon and musk surrounding him, and slipped it on. Pulling the hood over his head he said, “Whenever you are.”
Lance held the door open for him. “You know we could’ve gotten you a new jacket than my old one.”
“Nah, I like this one.”
-
“Lance! Could you watch Rosie and Miguel for me?” his sister asks, batting big blue eyes so similar to his own.
He sighs. There was no saying no to those eyes. He should know, this is the master he has learned it from. It was about time to see his niece and nephew anyway. “Sure, no problem Nat.”
She sighed in relief. “Ah, thank you, Lance. I’ll drop them off now.”
A few minutes later Lance heard enthusiastic knocking banging on the door. He was greeted with strong little arms wrapped around each of his legs with cries of, “UNCLE LANCE!”
“Whoa!” Lance laughed, arms wrapping around his family. “How’re my favorite little ankle-biters?”
Rosie frowned up at him, mouth pursed at the insult which was remedied when her younger brother literally bit his ankle. “Ah!” He glared at his sister who just shrugged as if to say ‘what can you do?’ the innocence was ruined with the cheeky smile that she couldn’t hold back. She darted forward to press a kiss to his cheek.
“I’ll pick them up in two hours, thanks for doing this.”
He shrugged and waddled into the house with a squealing niece and nephew still clinging to his legs. “What family for? See you later, Nat.”
With a final wave goodbye, he waited until the rumble of the car dissipated before turning to the kids. “Who wants ice cream?!”
They punched their tiny fists in the air. “YEAH!”
Those kids ran him ragged. It’s amazing how much energy a four and a three-year-old can have. Aren’t they supposed to be at the age where they have naps? One uncle can only take so many games of airplane.
“Again, again, again!” Rosie chanted.
Lance slumped, hands on his knees, panting. “Again?” he wheezed, “We’ve been doing this for a half hour!”
She grabbed his arm while her brother captured the other, swinging the limbs trapped in their arms. “But it’s so much fun! Do it, do it!”
He turned the tabled and captured both of their writs in his hands, their squeals of delight deafening him. “Okay, first, what do you say?”
“Pleeeaaase?” they sang.
“Good. Second, don’t you guys wanna watch Moana or something?” He tried not to beg, they can sense weakness but he’s petty sure he’s never used some of the muscles he had to use that day.
Luckily for him Rosie gasped and clapped, her brother following suit. “Yes, yes, yes! Please?”
He breathed a silent breath of relief. “Okay, if you guys sit quietly on the couch I’ll set up the movie and make popcorn, deal?”
They cheered before launching themselves onto the couch. Rosie did it no problem but she had to help Miguel as he ran on the shorter side of the McClain spectrum.
He had to smile. They might be exhausting demons but they’re cute exhausting demons and he loves them. He puts in the movie and they’re sitting pretty like little angels, watching in awe as the ocean greets the young Moana. Using the distraction he pops a bag of popcorn in the microwave, Miguel shushed him for the popping but didn’t look away from the screen.
The smell of popcorn wafted through the kitchen when his phone chimed. Digging it out the message on screen, from Keith, stated:
You might like this.
Well, that’s not mysterious or aloof at all. Despite the silly cloak and dagger delivery his heart still decided to stand up and dance around. Swiping the screen he threw his head back and laughed.
“Uncle Lance, what’s so funny?”
“Yeah, what’s so funny?”
His niece and nephew were trying to climb all over him to take a look at his phone. Weren’t they watching Moana?
He looked over and saw that they had the movie paused. They’re both less than five and they already have life skills. They hold too much power.
He held his phone high above their heads, ignoring their whines at being left out. Setting his phone far back on the counter, too far for them to reach, he grabbed a bowl and took out the popcorn packet ten seconds early.
Gingerly, he opened the bag and dumped the contents into the bowl. “It’s just my friend Keith. He just sent me something that he thought I might like.”
Herding them back to the living room he grabbed his phone and stuffed it in his pocket before they could see.
On the couch he plopped the popcorn on his lap, the two kids crowding on either side, little hands grasping for the popcorn. He resumed the movie, Moana singing the song right before she set off on her adventure that had them all singing along.
It was relative silence when Rosie decided to snoop again. “Did you like what Keith sent you?”
He looked down at her with her big guileless eyes but still suspicious. “Of course I did, it was really funny.”
She plucked the nearly empty popcorn bowl to the side to flop across him to the remote, pausing the movie. Too much power this child. Rolling over onto her back, still on his lap she asked, “Could you tell us, Uncle Lance? Oof!” Her brother decided to flop on top of her, disgruntled, she gently nudged her brother off but he stayed on their Uncle’s lap.
They stared at each other, willing for the other to crack.
“…Okay, fine.” He dug out his phone to his messages. In the latest one is a selfie of Keith, in their apartment. He’s holding the phone from a high angle showing his smug little smirk and the person underneath him. Keith’s hair was wet and it clung to his forehead and to the sides of his face. His shirt was splattered with liquid but had such a self-satisfied look on his face it reminded him of the family cat from when he was younger. He was sitting on a struggling Pidge who was trying to crawl away in a pool of spilled milk, snarl on her face but was pinned down by the weight of Keith on her hips. Across the picture was the simple text of: Found the milk thief.
He showed the picture to the children on his lap. “This is my, um, Keith is myyy, uh, good friend and under him is our friend Pidge. Food and stuff were missing from our kitchen and we didn’t know who until now.” He chuckled, looking at the picture again. He’s glad that the mystery is finally solved, well most of it, why Pidge was raiding their fridge and how they got in is a mystery, but it can wait till their Skype call later.
Rosie gasped, loud and over-dramatic. “Uncle Lance!” she scolded, pointing to the phone screen. “You haven’t ans-ans-answerd back yet! Don’t you like it?”
“I love it! But we’re watching Moana now!”
Tiny feet stabbed into his thighs and sticky hands groped his face as she reached for his phone. “You have to say you love it then!”
Miguel moved to stand on Lance’s side, jumping up and down, while using his shoulder for balance. “Yeah! We should call Uncle Keith! Pleeeease, Uncle Lance? Can we call him?”
Lance was torn; it was kinda adorable for Miguel to call Keith Uncle Keith. Miguel has a tendency to call his Uncle’s close friends his “Uncles”—mainly just Uncle Hunk because he sends them cookies. At the same time though, he’s his uncle! That’s a status that has to be earned!
Lance valiantly tried to defend his treasure, switching hands over and over as fingers poked his eyes and feet stabbed his lap. “Hey, hey, hey! Whoa! No, we are not going to call, Keith!”
Rosie gasped and stared at Lance, stalling her onslaught to hop onto the cushion free of her brother. She grasped his face and squished his cheeks. “You love him!”
How the fuck? “Wha-what? No, I—“
“You love him, you love him, you love him, you love him!” Rosie and Miguel chanted, bouncing on the cushions on either side of him, giggling and laughing. They linked hands over him and jumped a little out of sync. “You love him, you love him!”
Lance slapped his hand over his face and groaned at the loud yelling. God, this was like when his older sister found out he had a crush. Persistent, loud, well-meaning, but times two and ten times worse.
A little hand snatched his phone out of his hand. “Hey!”
His brain blanked when he heard ringing. The profile pic of Keith—furrowed brow and sticking his tongue out at the camera—on the screen. He reached to take back his phone when Rosie jumped off the couch and ran away giggling.
This child has too much power!
“Hello? Lance?” He could barely hear Keith’s voice from where Rosie held him hostage.
“Uncle Lance loves you!” Rosie screamed in the phone.
“Rosie! Give me back my phone!”
Abandoned on the couch Miguel started to wail, sliding off the couch to hurry after Lance. “Pick me up! Pick me up! Uncle Laaance!”
Lance groaned and picked up Miguel whose tears magically dried. “Keith! Just hang up!”
With a three-year-old in his arms, he raced after the missing four-year-old who was declaring his love to his roommate. God, he never thought it would be his niece to confess for him.
Loud beeps from where Rosie was pressing random buttons helped him find her. He jerked up the tablecloth in the kitchen. She squealed, phone in hand and wormed deeper under the table.
Just then the front door clicked open and his sister came in just in time to see her baby brother on all fours, one kid in his arm while her other child was under the kitchen table shouting to all heaven more and more elaborate ways that Lance loved Keith.
“He loves you more than cookie ice cream! Which is like the best—haah! Mamá!” She ditched the phone on the floor as she scrambled to her mother, Miguel squirming out to do the same.
Lance snatched up his phone to see Keith still connected. “Keith, oh shit, I’m so, so sorry. That was, that was just insane.”
A gentle laugh cut him off. “Don’t worry about it, kids will be kids.” He was silent for a moment and Lance breathed a sigh of relief, as his crazy family didn’t run him off yet. “I miss you, though. I honestly can’t wait till you come back. It’s been really…quiet.”
Heart warm he opened his mouth to answer when his sister came up, children clinging to her, and said in an overly loud voice, “Ooohh, is this Keith? The boy you never stop talking about?”
Lance screeched and pushed her smirking face away. “They’re just like you, demon woman!”
-
“Wake up you lump!” A pillow, with more force than necessary, nailed Keith in the face. He sputtered as he blindly batted at the assailant.
“Keith! Get up! I know you have a eight AM class today and I’m getting you up!” Another whack to the face. Keith blearily slitted his eyes open, glaring at the ocean-eyed boy that was way too awake for seven in the morning.
His hair was still ruffled from sleep and he still wore his PJs but his smiling blue eyes and playful smirk was too much for him. He groaned and buried his face into his pillow, ignoring Lance hitting his back. What did he do to deserve this kind of torture so early in the morning?
He grunted when a heavy weight squished him into the mattress. Lance.
Torture.
Long limbs wriggled their way under him to search out vulnerable sides. Keith curled into a ball, whine in his throat when fingers skittered over his sides. “Come on, man,” Lance laughed. “You asked me to wake you up. I don’t even have class until later, this is disrespect to me and my sacrifice.”
Keith hunched like a turtle when a hand tried to reach his neck, a few giggles escaping. “Fine, Jesus. I’m up.” He wiggled his limbs in effort to dislodge the body on top of him. When Lance finally let up after a few more jumper cables to the sides and a returning elbow to the ribs Keith sat up. He glared at the smiling idiot who had a hand resting lightly against his ribs. Cute, his mind supplied.
“You’re like a damn cat,” he said instead.
“Well,” Lance started, winking and shooting him fingerguns. “This cool cat got you to get up. Now come on you just wasted fifteen minutes being a grumpy cat.”
Keith threw back his blankets, the chill of the room making him shiver. “You do realize it only takes me like ten minutes to get ready right?”
“It’s the first day of classes, Keith.” Lance got up to rummage through his closet. He heard a quiet mutter how about all he owns is black before a shirt was thrown in his face. He held up the simple red V-neck before a pair of jeans sailed through the air. “It’s the first day of classes, start off the semester like you’re trying. We haven’t our existential crises for the semester yet, dress nice before we don’t care anymore.” Keith’s face burned as a pair of underwear was added to the pile.
“Sure, help yourself to my clothes. It’s not like I can’t dress myself,” Keith muttered.
“Exactly!” Lance chirruped. “Now go wash that greasy mullet of yours.”
This… guy. Honestly. Waking him up in the morning and throwing his clothes at him just because he doesn’t want him being a schlub for the day. With anybody else it would have been irritating and overbearing but Keith actually felt…loved. He cared enough to do those things for him.
Keith sighed. He really did love that clothes-throwing idiot.
Keith runs his hands through his wet hair, fisting the strands and trying to wipe the stupid smile off his face before he has to go back out. Of all the people to fall in love with it had to be him. The guy with stupid pick-up lines, who was too loud, who whined when things didn’t go his way, who was overly concerned with his hygiene, who helped him with his homework, who he could talk to, who gave him his jacket.
He sighed and turned off the water. If something will happen it will happen. He’ll just let it unfold naturally. No pushing.
The only issue was that he wanted to push. Push until one of them said something and something happened. But, it already felt like something did happen. He didn’t know when but they fell into a routine or relationship where they, well, were.
He ruffled the towel over his head, drying his hair as best as he could. He ran a hand through the strands. Lance always called it a mullet—it’s not, he’s seen pictures, his hair does not look like a mullet—but Keith wondered before if he should get a cut only for it to be vehemently objected.
He smiled a small smile. Sometimes it really felt like they were in a relationship. He put on the clothes that Lance chose for him, jumping up and down to get into the skinny jeans.
Looking at his phone he realized that it took him way longer than ten minutes. He hurried out and grabbed his bag from the floor and his Lance jacket from the couch. Shoving his feet into his shoes he was almost out the door when a hand stopped him short by his hoodie.
“Where are you going?” Ocean blue eyes glared at him; hand on his hip.
“Uh, class? Didn’t you make me get up for that?”
“Dude! You didn’t even have breakfast! What took you so long anyway?”
I was too busy thinking of you.
“It took longer than I thought.”
Lance sighed with his whole body, shoulders slumping, head tilting back and rolling his eyes until his whites showed before pointing a finger at the ground. “Stay.”
Cupboards banged and drawers open with the distant sound of Lance grumbling about his bad habits. He probably didn’t think he could hear him. Keith couldn’t help the amused scoff when Lance came back out, determined look on his face, shoving a bag at him.
“There. Breakfast and lunch.” He crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one hip. “Next time you should probably listen to me about the time.”
Keith couldn’t help the smile as he accepted the bagged lunch. “Of course, dear.”
Lance just rolled his eyes and kicked him lightly on the butt, nudging him out the door. “Get to class, loser. Play nice with the other kids etcetera, etcetera.” Lance darted forward and kissed his cheek. “Bye, love you.”
“Love you too.”
And the door closed.
Keith stood frozen in front of the door. It was by instinct. It just happened. He just responded to what Lance said but Lance said…
He knocked on the door.
It opened slowly, creeping opened until it revealed a sheepish Lance, looking off to the side scratching the side of his head. “It, uh, felt like I was saying goodbye to my husband.”
Keith licked his lips, shyly looking up through his bangs. “Me too.”
Lance finally looked at him, faced flushed but hopeful. “So…?”
Quickly, he nodded, face hot and butterflies threatening to overtake his stomach. “We’ll talk more after class but… love you?”
Soft lips met his, a gentle hand cupping his jaw before retreating. “Love you too.”
Keith bit down his smile and tried to stop the giddy feeling effusing through him but it was useless.
He smiled all through class.