Work Text:
“Hey, Shiro? Anytime soon?”
Keith picks lazily at the tree bark he leans against, feeling the rough texture catch under a stubby fingernail. A gentle breeze flicks at his hair until he gives up and tucks the loose black strands under his cap where it can’t tickle him. He rolls his neck in a bored stretch as his walkie-talkie buzzes.
“I found the groundskeeper. We’re on our way to get some tools. Shouldn’t be too long now,” Shiro says through the static.
“Roger that.” He clicks off the radio. “Hey. How’re you holding up?” Keith calls into the blackberry bush. It’s a thick patch growing out of a ditch in the unused part of the golf course, prickly and unyielding.
“Oh, ya know. Ow. Peachy-keen, my man. OW. I’m great. ”
The call came in almost an hour ago when a couple of country-club-goers spotted “one of those latino-looking guys” suspiciously running around the grounds in search of something. The clubbers assumed a heroin stash; Keith assumed racism.
Though, he really enjoyed the looks on their faces when two asian cops pulled up to take control of the situation. That was nice.
Keith never really expected his day to get all that lively. He and Shiro have been working outside of the downtown area over the past couple of weeks while the department goes through some changes. But, he also hadn’t guessed that he’d have to babysit some weirdo trapped in a blackberry bush while Shiro scrounged for a pair of shears on the opposite side of the course.
“How’s Blue doing?”
Keith glances down at the cat rubbing against his leg and the tree. “Just as fine as she was when you asked two minutes ago.”
“Someone’s – ow – sassy. Sergeant Sassy Pants.”
“I’m not a sergeant.”
Right. The weirdo, Lance, got stuck while he was trying to catch his cat. After an elaborate chase sequence that involved nearly getting run over by a golf cart and falling into a sandpit, Blue led Lance near the edge of the course. She climbed the tree, lured Lance out onto a branch over the blackberry patch that was more fragile than it looked… Snap. He tumbled into the spiky hell below just as Shiro pulled the squad car into the parking lot.
The country club people actually wanted him to climb the tree to check for drugs. For real. Like Keith was their suburban home security system or something. Shiro stepped in to politely insist that they had everything under control and cleared the area. They definitely have a good cop/bad cop thing going on, although Keith isn’t so much a bad cop as much as he is impatient with nosy civilians and tattletale neighbors. And racists. Keith does not like racists.
“You like donuts?”
He gently nudges the cat to pet her soft belly with his foot. She does not look remorseful about eating away his afternoon. Not that handing out tickets was much more exciting. “Is that supposed to be a cop joke?”
“No.” A pause from within the patch and several more small cries of pain. “Okay, maybe a little. But, hey, I love donuts! My best buddy, he runs one of those food trucks, like, the most well reviewed one in the whole city. Anyway, he makes these cinnamon sugar sprinkle things that are to die for.”
Sarcastic bone headedness aside, Keith can admit that the guy is a little charming. Has a nice voice. He can’t see Lance through the thicket, but he imagines that he’s a bit of a cutie. Not that it makes a difference. This is work, and at this point it’s been over half an hour since Shiro left and he’s starting to get bored.
So he’s just entertaining himself.
“Okay. And?”
“Uh. I don’t know, really. I guess I’d like to take you there as a thank you once my pretty face is all healed up.”
Keith blinks and tries to ignore how loudly the cat is purring beneath him. “Your tax money takes care of payment. I’m not exactly charging here.” Oh my god, don’t even think about it, Kogane. Shiro would tease him for weeks.
“Ow! Shit that hurts!”
“What? Rejection?”
Totally just entertaining himself.
An undignified squawk. “What?! No! I mean, well, yeah, a little, but I meant the thorns.” Keith chuckles and the branches stop moving as Lance tries to keep still. “Okay, proposition then: I take you to eat my friend’s donuts as an act of civil service.”
“Civil service?”
“Yeah. I’m contributing to the greater good by sharing the euphoria of Hunk’s food. You’ll understand once you say yes.”
Keith can’t help but grin at the guy’s antics. He’s certainly lively for a poor sucker who was bested by his own house pet. “I’ll have to pass. I get more than enough civil service every day.”
Lance groans loudly. “Oh-my-God! Can you please make this easier? As a date then. I’m asking you out on a date , you obnoxious cop.”
Keith’s heart stammers a little with excitement. Blue meows next to him as if in encouragement. When was the last time he flirted with someone? “Are you serious?”
This is kind of...fun. Actually.
“As serious as the Hello-Kitty bandage job I’m gonna need once I’m out of here. Or as a heart attack. My first analogy might have been unclear.”
Keith has great instincts. It’s part of what makes him good at his job, and right now his gut is screaming at him to take this leap. What’s the worst that can happen? Heartbreak and therapy. Been there, done that, still managed to make a decent life for himself. Keith smiles to himself.
That doesn’t mean he can’t be a bit of a tease first.
“I don’t even know what you look like. What if you’re ugly?”
“Are you kidding me? Dude, I literally just told you I have a pretty face.”
“What if I’m ugly?”
“Nope. No way. I can tell.”
“What if I’m straight?” Lance just bursts out laughing uncontrollably. “Okay,” Keith answers with a snicker. “That’s fair.”
Over the hill, Keith spies Shiro riding shotgun in a golf cart that’s been modified for the groundskeeper’s tools. Rakes, shovels, and other gardening equipment rattle loudly as it gets closer. He hears Lance hiss in pain again before he sucks in a breath. A small note of uncertainty hanging when says, “So? I’m not hearing a no, Officer Kogane.”
Just then, Shiro steps out with a pair of shears in hand, breaking the spell. “Okay, Lance. Sit tight. We’ll have you out soon.” He points to the back of the maintenance cart for Keith to grab his own shears while he and the groundskeeper get to work.
“Ah, great! Thanks, man. I’m getting pretty scraped up here.” And Keith thinks he might be imagining things, but he almost hears a little disappointment in his voice.
It takes nearly another hour and the sun is starting to set before Lance begins to come free. First his legs appear, jeans torn up from the fall, and oh boy does he have long legs. That’s...promising. Keith tampers down a blush, ignoring Shiro’s raised brow.
“How’re you doing, Lance?” Shiro asks, because he’s one of those considerate cops that everyone loves. And because he’s actually articulate.
“Hanging in there, sir.”
Next comes his torso. And, okay. Keith might be a little screwed. Lance’s shirt is bunched up, revealing a nice section of brown waist and stomach. His belly button is freakishly adorable? Keith nearly spits because that is not a thought that he has had about anyone, ever.
“I think I can kinda wiggle out from here. I just need a hand,” Lance says, reaching his arm out blindly. Keith takes it before Shiro has a chance to, shoving down his rising mortification. Okay, flirting was fun, but now he’s having reactions to things? That are out of his control? Not cool.
He has to awkwardly brace Lance’s weight to keep his back off the thorns and slide him out horizontally at the same time.
Fuck. He wasn’t lying about his face.
Lance finally emerges with a relieved gasp. He’s covered in small scrapes that are all lightly bleeding, but he has a sharp jawline and smooth dark skin that frame his eyes wonderfully.
They’re left standing there, hands clasped and Lance finishes finding his balance. Shiro starts talking to the groundskeeper to thank them. The cat comes back to press against Keith’s leg with a purr.
“Blue!” Lance bends over to scoop her up, a bright smile flashing at Keith.
“I don’t see how she gave you so much trouble.”
Lance just shrugs and smooths her fur. He grins at Keith. “I totally called it. I knew you were hot.”
Keith feels his face flush but keeps his composure. He’s a professional, after all. “I guess your face is okay,” he teases. “Hard to tell with all the blood though.”
“Haha,” he deadpans back. There’s a small awkward pause. Shiro is about to finish up and then they’ll leave. Keith feels a twinge of anxiety.
“Well,” he starts, but doesn’t get to finish.
“I wasn’t kidding,” Lance interrupts hastily. He’s dropped his cocksure grin and Keith can only see burning earnestness there. “I really would like to, um, to take you out. If you’d want to.”
He takes in this tall gorgeous moron with a cat in his arms, a stray leaf in his hair, coated head to toe in scratches. This...could be really good, he thinks.
He takes a breath and waves Shiro off to go back to the patrol car without him. He reaches for his belt. “I’m Keith. You’ll have to use my first name when I’m off duty.” He pulls out his notepad. “Please don’t call 911.” He tucks his number between Blue’s paws and pets her ears once before stepping away.
Lance blinks down at it like he just entered a new reality. “Great.” he blinks again. “Uh, great! Yeah. Yeah, I’ll call you. Definitely. Donuts. Donut date.”
Keith snorts and bites his lip unconsciously. “Okay. Don’t get stuck in any more bushes until then.” With a parting wave, he wills himself to turn around.
He’s just set foot in the parking lot when his walkie crackles to life. “We’ve got a theft at the local country club off of Juniper Boulevard. Victim is male, late twenties, super gay. Reported stolen property includes his dignity and heart. Suspect has dreamy eyes and a cat. Over.”
“Shut the fuck up, Shiro.”