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It’s a relatively cool afternoon at the park, overcast clouds providing just enough shade to relax without worrying about sunburn. Lucky for Keith, then. Rounding a cluster of trees along the sidewalk path, Keith spots Lance at their designated meeting spot. He offers a small wave as Lance jumps up from the bench to greet him, skidding to a halt in front of Keith.
“Hi, there,” he beams, brown skin somehow magically radiating despite the cloudy shade.
“Hey,” Keith replies awkwardly. He does his best to not clear his throat, instead shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “That’s, uh...that’s a lot of bandages.” It really is. Lance’s face and neck are covered in an obscene number of Hello Kitty band-aides that curve around his smooth cheekbones and peek out from the collar of his blue shirt. His grin is that cocksure twist Keith remembers from two days ago.
“Dude, this is just my face. You should see the rest of me,” he jokes, pointing to the bandage spread across his nose.
Oh. Given what he saw earlier, Keith would absolutely like to see the rest of him.
Trying to shove his demonic alter-ego, Horny Keith, into the abyss of his psyche, he smiles and starts to follow Lance along the path that will take them out of the park and into the downtown area. “So, where are you taking me?”
“Only for the best donuts of your cop-life,” he boasts.
“Are you going to bring everything back to my job?” Keith asks. They cross the street to the block of food trucks. Lance guides them through the crowd until they’re in line at a bright yellow truck with orange lettering.
“I mean, it’s cool and basically the only thing I know about you, so...yeah. For now, pretty much.” They step into line, other customers around them eager and hungry. It smells wonderful, even a few yards away.
Keith rolls his eyes “What about you? All I know is that you’re dumb enough to get stuck in a blackberry patch chasing your cat.”
Lance gasps, offended. They inch forward in line and he clutches his chest. “Excuse you, I love my cat enough to get stuck in a blackberry patch trying to save her. I’m not dumb, I’m valiant.”
Suddenly a voice cuts in from above them. “No, yeah. He’s dumb. In a good way, though.” Keith looks up to see that they've reached the truck. A large man with rich dark skin and a friendly smile extends his hand down from the window. “I’m Hunk. You must be 'the dreamboat.'”
“Hunk,” Lance whines, voice cracking. “Dude. You’re breaking bro-code.” Keith chuckles and shakes Hunk’s hand, fighting a small blush.
Without delay, Hunk presents them each with a warm, fresh, cinnamon sprinkled donut on the house. They quickly wave goodbye so the massive mob behind them doesn’t attack. The tissue paper crinkling in his hands, Keith inhales the wonderful fresh aroma. At Lance’s urging, he takes a bite and seriously considers ditching Lance to go hit on Hunk if it means eating like this for the rest of his life.
“Oh my god.”
“I know.”
“Oh my god.”
Lance only preens, devouring the rest of his treat and smirking with victory. “Told ‘ya.”
Keith just keeps staring at it, his raging sweet tooth just about breaking into song like the creepy Chip Skylark teeth from that cartoon Shiro always watches when he can't sleep. “I’m so sorry I doubted you.” Lance laughs loudly, his nose crinkling up under the Hello Kitty bandage. Keith nearly chokes on his food at the sight. God, he’s adorable. “So,” he manages, masking his flustered state. “You.”
“Me?”
Keith bites the inside of his cheek and screams in his head. His demanding and abrasive tone is great in the interrogation room. It sucks for wooing. “Job,” he barks. “Family. Background that isn’t too personal yet.”
"Oh," Lance nods sagely, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Um." He wipes the remaining sugar sprinkles off on his jeans to start counting off fingers. “Born and raised in Cuba until, like, fifth grade I think? Youngest of three. I have one niece and one nephew, Hunk is my best friend, and I’m a dance instructor. How's that?”
“Dance?” Keith asks, throat suddenly tight.
Oh no.
Lance keeps nodding like he's a bobble head. “Yup. Aerial silks and pop. Sometimes I take over the Zumba class if Penny’s out sick. Let me tell you, middle-aged moms get into it. Guess they have a lot of stress to work off. Man, the stories I hear about the complex drama of suburban life could blow your mind.”
Oh no.
“Silks?” Keith hedges. “Like from the circus and stuff?”
“Pretty much, yeah. That’s my specialty. Me siento tan lindo en el aire,” he adds with a wink.
Oooooooh no.
Lance can do things . Probably things with his hips. He’s hot. He’s so, so hot and Keith is so, so fucked (hopefully). Don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t picture it. Begone, Horny Keith! It’s the first date please calm the fuck down. “Wow,” he finally says. “That’s pretty, uh, unique.”
With a shrug, Lance chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “It’s alright. Not nearly as important as saving lives, but I have fun at least.” Just as he moves to lower his hand again, Keith spies a bandage that’s peeling off the back of his wrist. Without thinking, he reaches out and gently grasps Lance’s fingers, smoothing the adhesive back down onto brown skin.
Then they both freeze. Keith stares at the place where Lance’s skin touches his own, long fingers loosely curled around his calloused ones. “Um.” Shit shit shit shit. “Your band-aide was… I was just fixing it.”
“Oh,” Lance says, glancing down where their fingers were still joined and why the fuck is Keith still holding on? “Well, thanks.” The air between them is tighter somehow, charged, the white noise of the city around them fading as Lance only returns Keith’s grip and shyly interlocks their fingers. He pauses, an uncertain quirk to his brow, and Keith holds his breath. “This okay?”
Keith nods, letting their hands drop to swing between them as they start walking again, a quiet smile blooming on Lance's lips. Evening starts to crawl over them, the sky melting into soft oranges and pinks, the light catching in Lance’s hair. They circle back to the park where a group is setting up a large projector and fiddling with a drop-cloth screen strung between two trees.
“What’s this?” Keith asks, looking around at all of the people settling in on picnic blankets. Lance tugs him over to a more secluded spot in the back where a blue blanket with a shark on it is laid out.
“They do community movie nights here once a month. I got Hunk to drop this off for us.” They sit down, toeing off their shoes and sitting cross-legged next to each other. “I mean, if movies aren’t your thing or if you totally hate whatever they’re playing we can totally leave or you can just go home, but I thought that it might be kind of nice,” Lance rambles, his voice increasing in pitch the longer Keith stares at him. “Or whatever.”
Keith smiles. “This is good, Lance. I’ve never been to an outdoor movie before.”
“Oh,” Lance breathes, shoulders relaxing. “Then this’ll be a treat.”
It isn’t one for long though. Keith has settled in next to Lance at a comfortable distance where they aren’t quite touching, but could if they wanted to. Not even five minutes into the film - an old black and white drama - Keith sees it. Just up ahead, the silhouette of two people shifting about oddly catches his eye. Suddenly, one person’s arm shoots out to keep the other away. Before he knows it, he’s on his feet.
“Keith? What’s wrong?” Lance peers up at him from the blanket in confusion.
Keith just barely hears a harshly whispered, ‘just stop’ from ahead. He bristles and his jaw locks. “Stay here for a minute. I’ll be back.” Leaving Lance there, Keith walks towards the couple, fingers finding where his badge is pinned under his jacket. Hopefully he can just flash it and deescalate this before it gets worse. When he gets close enough, he sees that the boy has the girl’s wrist in his grip. She’s scowling as she leans away from him, maybe one second away from outright punching the guy.
“Come on, I just wanna kiss you. We’ve done it before,” the guy says, grip visibly tightening, making the girl frown harder.
“I said I don’t want to right now. Please don’t make a scene.”
“You’re just shy. Not like anyone’s watching.”
“Let go. I’m going home and I don’t want you to call me again.”
Keith reaches them just as the dude clamps down on her arm and leans to force her into a kiss. Before he can reach her, Keith yanks him back by his shirt collar and pulls him into a clean hold on the ground.
“Dude! What the fuck! Get off!” Well, so much for keeping things calm and quiet. Keeping his knee firmly planted on the guy’s back, Keith places him under arrest and rattles off the Miranda rights without missing a beat. “You’re arresting me for trying to kiss my own girlfriend? That’s bullshit, man. Get the fuck off.”
“You’re under arrest for sexual harassment. Stop talking.” Keith turns back to the girl to ask her to call 911 for backup, seeing as he doesn’t have cuffs or a squad car to transport the guy in, but is surprised to see Lance kneeling beside her. Putting the sudden glow of admiration in his chest on the back burner, Keith gets Lance to fish out his phone and hold it up to Keith’s ear while he calls in.
While they wait, Keith lets Lance coax the girl back over to their own shark blanket. From afar, Keith watches him ask if she’s okay. Within minutes, Lance’s arms are flailing in some wild story and she snorts through a loud laugh, hugging her knees to her chest.
“Better than a shock blanket,” Keith mumbles fondly, ignoring the squirming douchebag beneath him.
Within minutes two squad cars pull up. Funnily enough, Shiro steps out and sighs heavily. They load the entitled jerk into the car and Lance and the girl walk up. “Why am I not surprised?” Shiro chuckles, leaving Keith and Lance to shrug helplessly in unison.
They’re all driven down to the closest station to fill out police reports for the next hour. The girl thanks them and goes home. It’s late by the time they leave, turning down Shiro’s offer to drive in favor of walking in the cool night air. Lance’s apartment is close by anyway.
“Well that was exciting,” Lance says after a long minute, the folded blanket draped over his arm.
Keith winces a little. “Sorry about that. Not the best way to end the night.”
Lance faces him, eyes wide. “Are you kidding? That was super cool. I mean, not that she was being harassed. That part sucked. But all the rest of it? That was so great. Dude, I didn’t even realize what was happening until you pinned the guy - mega hot, by the way,” he finishes with a wink. Keith feels the tips of his ears getting hot.
“Then I guess I’ll have to take you on a raid or something next time.”
“Next time?”
Keith falters. “I mean, unless you don’t want to.” That would be fine. That would totally be fine, but Keith can’t help but anticipate the knot of rejection in his stomach. Even if it was cool to see some action in person, he knows cops are hard to date. He would understand if the bad schedules and danger are too much for a new relationship to bear.
“No, no, no, no!” Lance stops, waiting for Keith to do the same and face him. They’ve reached the apartment complex, blue buildings lined up together and casting shadows against the street lamps’ light. “I would love a next time.” Shyly, he lets his arm swing to link their pinkies together, and Keith’s stone cold badass hearts fucking flutters.
“Me too.” Determined not to let Lance steal all the moves for the day, Keith musters up as much courage as he can. He lifts Lance’s hand to his mouth and lightly grazes his lips over his knuckles. He restrains a victory smirk when he hears a small gasp from Lance. It’s too dark to tell, but Keith is willing to bet they’re at least equally red in the face.
Slowly, they break apart, Lance tugging his keys out of his pocket with a laugh. “Okay then,” he calls. “Next time you pick.”
When Keith gets home, Shiro is waiting in their living room with a knowing smirk. Keith is too happy to bother telling him to fuck off.