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The desert is little colder this time of year.
It’s chilly in the morning, the desolate land unable to retain heat through the night, so Keith made sure to put his civilian jacket on before he left the warmth of his room behind to make his way to the restricted access area on the roof of the Garrison. He rests his forearms on the metal railing, stares up at the sherbert clouds overhead, enjoying the near-wintery haze in the air and how it clears his head of all ill-thoughts forced upon him by his restless slumber.
The sound of the door opening behind him shatters the silence, boots scuffling against the roof as he’s approached. He lets out a low breath as a pair of arms wrap snugly around his waist, a face pressing into the hollow between his shoulder blades.
“Why did you leave? You made me look all over the dorms for you,” comes the sleepy voice, adorably disgruntled as the arms hold him tight. After a pause, there’s another complaint, softer and mumbled into the fabric of Keith’s jacket. “It’s cold out here.”
“Couldn’t fall back asleep,” Keith says as he drops his eyes to look at the expanse of red dirt and distant rock outcroppings, broken up by deep grooves in the earth that are the only remnants left of the Galra occupation. As quiet and familiar and stunning as it is, Keith thinks he hates it. “Sorry if I woke you when I left.”
Lance’s head nuzzles into his back. “Just missed you.”
Keith shifts so he can run his ungloved hand over the fleecy sleeve of Lance’s coat tight around his waist. “Sorry.”
“S’okay.” He thinks Lance might drop a kiss there between his shoulder blades. “You okay?”
Keith considers that for a moment and then spins in the circle of those arms. Lance leans away slightly to allow the movement, his hair sticking up every which way, the thin turtleneck under his jacket hanging loose around the delicious curve of his throat, his eyes jeweled in the soft-pink of the sunrise. Sleep still clings to his face, warm and soft and heart-achingly sweet, making the expression he fixes on Keith both gentle and creased with concerned.
“Mm,” Keith hums in affirmation, slowly taking in the sight before him, slowly appraising and admiring and committing it to memory. He raises a hand and lays it over the curve of Lance’s cheek, brushing his thumb along the crest of his cheekbone. It still feels like a dream sometimes, that Lance looks at him like this. The muted pastel colors of the early morning give the moment a hazy quality and the only thing he’s really sure of is the dark, vibrant blue of Lance’s eyes beneath the cotton-candy clouds.
Lance flushes under the intense attention but he doesn’t waver. “You sure?” He rubs his palm up and down Keith’s back, nose slightly wrinkled, frowning, as he waits for confirmation. “You look kind of broody. Did I hog the covers again?”
Keith is quiet for a long moment, one arm slowly wrapping around Lance, the other hand still pressed to his cheek. He takes the time to appreciate the warmth of Lance against him and how it chases away the last of his discomfort from the night before.
“You ever think about running away with me?” Keith murmurs, heart full to bursting when Lance leans into his touch.
Those blue eyes meet his with shades of amusement hidden inside. “Where would we go?”
“We could go home.”
Lance leans his body more heavily into him, still pressing his face into Keith’s hand with unadulterated affection.“At the risk of sounding disgustingly cheesy and hopelessly in love with you - which you know I already am - you are my home, Keith.”
He’d been talking about Cuba, and they both knew it but...that’s such a Lance thing to say - so heartfelt and genuine - that Keith is unsurprised to find his face becoming hot with a blush, half-delighted and half-embarrassed. How, after all these years, Lance still has the power to make him fall , is beyond him. His heart feels warm and full in his chest, though, as he smooths his thumb again over the edge of Lance’s cheekbone.
Lance grins a little, the bunch of his cheek settling so well into the palm of Keith’s hand. “Oh, look, I broke you.”
Keith moves his hand from Lance’s face, lets it travel down to his waist before curling there and keeping the other boy snug against his chest, finding Lance suddenly quite irresistible. Without reply, he leans in and gives him a peck on the cheek, and Lance accepts it with a hum of approval.
“Fine, since you insist on being difficult,” Keith says, with fondness, “where would you take me?”
Lance shakes his head before fixing his blue eyes back on Keith. “Why does this gotta be all about me? What about you, Kogane? You must have some place in mind. When you were a kid, where did you picture yourself living in your wildest little Keith dreams?”
Keith considers that for a moment. He doesn’t think he’s ever been asked that exact question and it’s been years since he thought about anything so wildly unrelated to the war. However, the answer isn’t as far buried as he expected it to be, and the memory comes to him warm and nostalgic, falling easily from his tongue. “When I was a kid, my pa and I went on a camping trip in East Texas every year. I loved it there. Always begged to stay when it was time to go.”
Lance seems latched onto the memory, despite it not belonging to him. Interest keeps his gaze trained intently on Keith, eager to soak in these details of a childhood that have never been shared with him before. “What did you love about it?” he asks, reaching up to push some of the hair blown into Keith’s face by the wind away with a gentle hand.
“The smell,” he murmurs, half-caught up in remembering. Trees, tall and big and many and so green --oh god, how things had been green. Keith had never known so much of the color green could exist in the whole wide world, or that it could smell so good. “The air was so humid there but it smelled like pine needles.” It strikes him that he hasn’t smelled that scent since before his father died, and a pang of longing goes off inside him.
Lance smiles at him, pulling him back into the here and now on the roof of the Garrison in the middle of a war-scarred desert. He tucks a lock of hair back behind Keith’s ear. “Yeah, I can see you Davy Crockett-ing it up in a log cabin in the woods all by yourself. That’s a very Keith thing to do.”
Keith rolls his eyes affectionately. “I wouldn’t be by myself.”
Lance’s smile widens. “Oh really? Who’re you gonna take to your secret little forest hideout, Keith? Which lucky man will have the pleasure of being sufficiently and thoroughly wooed by you while surrounded by the sexy, sexy scent of pine needles, hmm? Do I know him?”
“Probably.”
Lance nods sagely, as if accepting the news. “And how do you plan to woo him?”
Keith shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. “In flannel.”
There’s a pause then as Lance peers up at him before patting his shoulder, one arm still wrapped tight around his waist. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, that’ll work.”
The distracted tone of his voice - entirely genuine now - has Keith breaking into a grin. “You’re too easy.”
His cheeks darken in color, just a bit. “Shut up! It’s not my fault you’d look really cozy and adorable but also extremely hot in a nice flannel shirt. You know exactly what you’re doing, so don’t even go there with me.” The words are accusatory but Lance’s expression is halfway to love-struck and really, Keith feels it deep under his skin, too.
“Hey.” Keith leans down and presses his forehead to Lance’s, suddenly serious. His breaths feel heavier in his chest as his heart thrums at the proximity, at the fullness and lightness of being allowed to be like this, with Lance. “You’d really follow me all the way out into the Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas?”
“Baby, I followed you across galaxies before I even knew I loved you,” Lance says softly, running a hand up to press at the hollow between Keith’s strong shoulder blades. “What makes you think Texas is a deal-breaker? Wherever you wanna go, I’ll go.”
Keith leans in, ghosting his lips over Lance’s for a moment. “I want to take you home , Lance.” Before he can get a response, he presses in more firmly, sealing their mouths together.
Lance sighs into him, immediately going pliant and soft in the circle of Keith’s arms, as though he’s finally getting something he’s been waiting for, a pleased little sound rumbling deep in his chest. Keith has the distinct and sudden thought that there are too many layers between them and pulls away slightly to begin unzipping Lance’s jacket.
Lance jumps at the sound of the zipper and places his hands firmly on Keith’s sides as he pushes back. “Nope! Nope, nope nope, no way, nuh-uh! It’s cold outside, Keith, I refuse--!”
His voice cuts out in a yelp as Keith leans in and nuzzles against Lance’s neck. “But I’m warm,” he mumbles, peppering gentle kisses there against his skin and turtleneck. “I’ll make you warm.”
“Keith, it’s cold,” Lance whines, but he tips his head back and grabs at the back of Keith’s jacket again as if to ground himself. “W-We could just go back inside.”
Keith makes a growly noise of discontent into the curve of Lance’s throat and unzips the front of his own jacket, guiding Lance’s arms under the material where it truly is much, much warmer. “If we go inside, they’re gonna find us and put us to work and I won’t see you again all day.” He groans and Lance shivers against him. “All day. God, that sounds awful.”
Lance sighs and tilts his head to nuzzle at Keith’s cheek, brushing his face against the ends of his hair as the wind teases at both of them with chilly fingers. “You really do wanna run away with me, huh? To Cuba?”
“Yeah,” Keith admits shamelessly, awkwardly shoving Lance’s jacket zipper down so he can feel the warmth of his chest against his. Lance seems to like that, leaning in heavily, no longer putting up a fight about trying to tiptoe back to their room unnoticed. Keith likes it too, likes the heat and the warmth and just being able to remind himself that this is somehow very, very real.
“You gonna marry me someday, Keith?” Lance is breathless, and he’s barely even been kissed yet. He slides his cold hands up under Keith’s shirt slowly, feeling the scars there one by one, reverently.
Keith kisses back up to his mouth with the same amount of attention. “Probably,” he whispers and he can feel Lance’s answering smile against his lips.