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It started with an innocuous conversation. The kind of conversation that happens a million different times a day.
“Hi.”
“Uh, hi.”
“Do you know what you’d like?”
“Is the brown sugar latte any good?”
“I think it is, but it’s really sweet. Like, super super sweet.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll just have a mocha then. No whip, please.”
“What size?”
“Sixteen ounce.”
“One sixteen ounce mocha coming up. That’ll be five dollars.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
And then another.
“Hey there, what’ll you be having today?”
“Oh, I think an americano, with room.”
“It’s your taste buds buddy. Sixteen ounce?”
“Yeah.”
“Three-fifty.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you.”
And yet another.
“Hey, man. We’ve got a bourbon latte now that you might like.”
“Do I look like a bourbon guy?”
“I dunno. Kinda?”
“Does it actually have bourbon in it?”
“Nah, it just tastes like it, mostly in the first sip.”
“Ah. Cool, yeah, I’ll have one of those.”
“Sixteen ounce?”
“Yep.”
“Five-fifty.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you.”
Dozens of these little conversations, scattered through months of vague acquaintanceship. Keith knew Lance’s name because of the name tag. Lance knew Keith’s name because of his credit card. Finally, the conversation that mattered.
“I didn’t know you attended Voltron.”
“It’s not surprising, it’s a big school. Honestly, I’m only taking this class because I know the teacher.”
“Oh, that’s cool. How do you know Shiro?”
“He’s kind of a mentor? I dunno, our relationship is a little hard to define. He’s like the big brother I never wanted but got anyway.”
“Cool. I come from a big family, so if I don’t have a sibling the right age, I’ve probably got a cousin that fits the bill.”
Keith laughed. Lance was warmed to his toes.
Dozen of new conversations now, that don’t have anything to do with coffee.
“Do you really think there’s other people out there?”
“Of course I do. I can’t see how anyone doesn’t. There’s so much out there we don’t know about, it’s stupid to think that we’re the only sentient beings that exisist.”
“My abuela still thinks the Earth is only six thousand years old. People can believe anything they set their minds to.”
And then, when the time is right, when they’ve had enough of the easy conversations, the harder conversations come.
“I got kicked out of my seventh foster home because I came out.”
A long, stretched out silence.
“Honestly, I have no idea what to say to that. ‘That sucks’ is what immediately comes to mind, but that doesn’t really come close to what I really mean. That’s shitty, that’s what it is. I can’t even begin to comprehend what you went through. My big sister came out as a lesbian three years before I even knew what sex was, so me coming out as bisexual six years later was just another day in the life for my parents.”
“Yeah. I wish more people were like that. I mean, it isn’t great being told that I’m going to hell, or whatever, but sometimes I prefer it to the people are like, ‘I love gay people, I know so many gay people and I’m so accepting of them’, you know? It’s like... they’re working so hard to accept me, they’re not treating me like a real person.”
“It’s like they don’t realize that you’re more than who you’re attracted to.”
“Exactly.”
And then the conversation that feels like the hardest thing Lance has ever had to do.
“So like, I like being your friend.”
“Okay?”
“And like, I would be happy being your friend forever and ever.”
“Cool.”
“But I really like you. You know, like, like-like.”
“Like-like.”
“Yeah. Um, so like, I’m not saying you’ve friend-zoned me, or anything, I’d totally be cool with just being buds, I really would. I was just wondering if, um, maybe you might think of me in a similar way.”
“A similar way to like-like.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Oh yeah, totally. I don’t want to... you know, pressure you, or anything.”
And then the follow up conversation.
“So like, I do kind of think of you in a similar way.”
“You do?”
“Yeah but... I’m not exactly easy to date.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like, I get moody. Sometimes I don’t want to talk to anybody, even the person I’m dating. And sometimes I forget that you’re supposed to be romantic with the person you’re dating. I’m really not good at remembering anniversaries, or giving gifts, or anything like that.”
“Keith, buddy, I already knew you were moody. And I can be romantic enough for the both of us.”
“Okay, I guess. I just... I like you, Lance. Like, a lot. And I really don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either. So we can take it slow, and if something’s not working, we nip it in the bud, okay?”
The first fight.
“How could you say that to my abuela?”
“I didn’t know talking about my geology classes would cause a fucking problem! I was trying to make conversation!”
“I told you she only thinks the Earth is only six thousand years old! You can’t tell her that her firmly held belief is wrong!”
“But it is wrong!”
“She’s eighty! It’s what she’s believed her whole life, and telling her her belief is wrong just makes her feel bad!”
And then the resolution, many hours later.
“I’m sorry I yelled.”
“I’m sorry too.”
“You’re right, she is wrong, but maybe don’t talk to her about science anymore.”
“What should I talk about then?”
“I dunno. Fashion?”
A look is exchanged. Twin snickers.
“Okay, maybe not.”
And then they’re faced with the future, and a different sort of conversation happens over and over.
“I’ve got an interview on Thursday, and another next Monday.”
“That’s great!”
“Did you hear back from that one place?”
“Not yet, but I got a good feeling from the interview.”
That future seems brighter all the time, especially since they’ll be facing it together.
“That’s the last of the boxes, right?”
“Yeah. I’m still uncertain where you kept all those books while you were living in the dorms.”
“At Shiro’s, mostly.”
“That explains so much.”
But we all know living together can be difficult sometimes.
“I have shown you how to do it multiple times, but you still load the dishwasher wrong.”
“How can it be wrong if the dishes get clean either way?”
“But you can’t put those dishes on the bottom. If you put them on the bottom, they’ll warp.”
“But they take up too much space on the top.”
“But we want to keep using them, and so they need to be on the top.”
The good news is that time flies when you’re having fun.
“Can you believe it’s been three years already?”
“Three years? We’ve only been dating for two and a bit.”
“Yeah, but you first came into the coffee shop three years ago today. I remember, because it was the first of November, and I had gone to a Halloween party the night before.”
“You’re such a sap.”
“I told you, I’m romantic enough for the both of us.”
And then, the conversation that matters the most.
“Oh, the stars are gorgeous tonight. You were right, the drive out here was totally worth it.”
“There’s something else that’s gorgeous tonight. Well, I mean, you’re gorgeous every night.”
“You flatterer you.”
“Lance. You’re as gorgeous as the night sky, and brilliant as the sun, and my whole world.”
“Keith...”
“I’ve treasured every day we’ve been together. I want to make sure that I have millions more.”
“What... what are you doing? You’re on your knees, what?”
“Lance McClain, will you marry me?”
“Fuck yes... fuck.”
“Don’t cry.”
“Stupid. Don’t do super romantic things like propose to me under the stars then. Stupid... I’m supposed to be the romantic one. I was planning it. I was going to propose in the coffee house.”
“I would have hated that.”
“I know. I was trying to figure out how to do it without anybody there. But hey, you beat me to the punch. Now I can share my wedding Pinterest board with you and it won’t be weird.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Lance, it’s still weird.”