Work Text:
As strangers:
Lance can’t say he’s embarrassed walking into the barbershop with a little more shag in his hair than his mama would like. It doesn’t make much sense to him anyway since Marco looks like a string cheese mascot with even longer noodle-y hair, but as far as living under his parent’s roof goes, it looks like part of his rent is making himself look reasonably less homeless than his worn out clothes have to offer.
Anyway, no embarrassment. Shiro is a great barber, he’ll get this done in no time and soon enough, all the single ladies (or… polite moms ) at Nadia’s kindergarten performance will be absolutely swooning. He can already hear the sweet chorus of “That McClain boy” and “So handsome”s. After a good year or two of seeing Shiro, there’s no doubt he’d ever consider a switch in this routine.
That is, until he’s plopped in a cushy seat, right across from his usual spot, with that very man busy snipping away at someone else’s hair in an appointment that’s apparently run late, and the only thing that’s keeping Lance’s butt glued here is his determination to walk into that elementary school as the most dashing tio ever, along with this loose promise of Shiro’s brother being “just as good”.
He can’t say he’s too sure of it. This guy’s hair looks pretty choppy, not too off from one of the poor barbie dolls his sisters used to assault the hair of. It’s tied back, with bangs that frame a sharp and scowly face unlike the usual warm and patient smile Lance sees from Shiro.
This “Keith” guy gets to work in no time, only a quick glance and a hum at some last minute reference picture Lance pulled off Google since he’s used to Shiro mind reading him somehow anyway. He holds his breath through every snip, doesn’t have it in him to relax his shoulders or jaw or nervous fingertips tapping away at the armrests.
Keith’s movements are calculated and swift, he almost seems like he’s in as much of a hurry as Lance and with all this overthinking the latter is dealing with, maybe the bar is so low at this point he just doesn’t want his freakin’ hairline buzzed off, ya know?
After a handful of tense head tilts and this-better-be-worth-it looks at Shiro, the frays of clipped hair are blown off his cape and brushed from his neck one last time before Keith holds out a wide mirror right before his eyes and he—
He likes it.
Wow he looks really…
“Damn I— This looks great!” Lance tapers off into an all but impressed chuckle. “Uh, thanks man.” He cranes his head back to Keith, his first really good look at his guy who hums, gazing back at him with these sort of deep, dark eyes and—
Shoot.
Shiro sends him a knowing little wink as Lance finally makes his way to the door. He’s got a feeling this swap wasn’t so bad, a lot less than bad especially after almost walking straight into the door frame when he caught Keith’s tentative smile in a small wave goodbye.
Maybe he’s a little embarrassed walking out, but it’s not the hair. It’s the flush washing up his neck from an awkward stumble and oof, and the faint sound of that new barber’s laugh over buzzing razors and a chiming entrance.
As friends:
Safe to say a few months later, while keeping his hair in tip-top shape after probably his best cut yet (no offense to Shiro), Lance has made good friends with the new presence in the barber shop.
Maybe that switcheroo was well needed, more or less for the sake of Keith making a local friend after moving into town over Lance having a true hair crisis. Obviously he can keep himself looking handsome as ever with an exceptional array of products back home. Just a second or two of Keith’s fingertips tickling the clipped strands at his nape before murmuring “Your hair’s already pretty soft”, Lance knew he’d breached one of the man’s walls of social stubbornness.
That’s right, hair first and then, soon enough, this guy’s gonna notice how cool Lance is. Not that… it’s too important to him or anything, he just likes being an exception, alright?
And damn, an exception he’s become now, almost unfortunately sometimes with how his friend’s teasing snark feels just as eye roll-worthy as Shiro’s comments. Like a sneaky, too-slow trick on a high five that's got him deadpanning just the same way Keith had been the first few rounds of visits with Lance’s amazingly strung punchlines.
“Quit moving, this thing’s gonna make you go bald,” Keith says over the high hum of a close cut razor. He holds Lance’s head, right at the jaw almost like a caress but, ya know, it’s Keith, and works near his temples with the tip of his tongue poked out in concentration.
Lance scoffs. “If I end up bald from this then I’ll just have to make you wax my armpits in the back.”
The hold at his jaw is unwavering, even as Keith lifts a brow and continues on. “You say that like I wouldn’t enjoy you shrieking from the pain.”
Probably should’ve thought that through…
“I’ll just have to make you bald too then.”
The razor switches off and Keith huffs a little indignantly, the way Lance himself does, like those little quirks in their behavior have rubbed together in a strange friction of friendship. Keith cocks his hip with an attitude at Shiro, Lance manages to talk with just a glare in his eyes, Keith winks once in a blue moon and despite the mock behind it Lance finds his throat shutting anyway.
“We’ll just be at square one together then, huh?” Keith says. It’s not like him to go with the groove of a conversation like this, then again…
An exception.
So it makes Lance smile, and the nice spritzes of water to his scalp lighten the moment just as well. He watched the sprinkles of stray mist glint under the shop’s fluorescent light, pointedly ignoring Shiro’s amused smirk in their direction because all his brain wants him to say is “It’s not like that” but he can’t even say what “that” is. Just that Shiro must know, and it makes his oh-so-casual behavior feel annoying as ever.
I’m not stupid, Lance thinks after the bajillionth innocent glance from Shiro. Reminds him of his own dang mother anytime he brings a friend over. Like, any time since he’d come out as bisexual. Maybe it’s just disappointing being the only kid left in the fam without someone to be mushy with at family reunions or whatever. At this point he may as well bring Keith and just get it over with. God would that be entertaining at least…
Keith sweeps away more snips off the cape with a thick brush when Lance turns his head, a perfect pause from cutting as he nags some more. “Kinda cute of us, don’tcha think?” He smiles. “Hashtag couple goals ‘n all that jazz.”
Aaand straight up air to the face, blasted from Keith’s holy blow dryer he uses like a spray bottle on a cat when Lance is just being funny, thank you very much.
But he sees a blush in his friend’s face through dry, squinty eyes, and maybe this has just become an honorable step in his client-to-companion development.
“You’re an idiot,” Keith says as he combs Lance’s hair, wearing a pinched little pout. Heh, it’s almost kind of cute or something.
“Am I a handsome one, at least?”
Just— Okay just listen. The words slipped through before really thinking and— and maybe it’s not all that questionable with anyone else he’s got the pleasure to annoy—
but Keith looks at him.
And leans down the barest bit but it’s close and makes all his fidgety limbs go still and Keith brushes away just a single, loose strand and says:
“After my hard work, I suppose so.”
And freakin’ winks.
Not that it really means much cause, of course, Lance is a hit with the ladies —with everyone— and he’s had his great share of winks sent his way. Keith doing it is just… weird. The little butterflies that come from it are simply conditioned.
He swallows. “I guess I’ll take it…”
But mayyybe, just maybe he hopes to take more of it in the future.
Whatever “it” might be.
As crushes:
Apparently Lance has not aged past elementary school. At least his brain hasn’t, nor the way his feelings function.
The word “crush” calls for something a lot different than his typical ventures as a flirt. It means the smug feeling stirring in his gut is replaced with fluttery anxiousness, like a gurgling spring that flows dangerously close to a field of budding flowers. If they grow, he’s toast. That means it’s real, and there’s no denying it when his heart has sprouted twelve times the bouquet he’d given Jenny for Valentine’s Day in middle school, with a grip clenched tight enough to suffocate its stems.
‘Go friggin’ do something about it!’ he can hear that frantic spring of emotions shouting at him. Or more like just… blasting water at his hopeless self, then throwing all those Keith flowers to his face till he’s sputtering from the petals. It’s not real, but it feels like it.
It feels like it even when the sprays of water here in the shop are gentle, damp, and soak Lance’s hair while he nervously wonders how he’s gonna go about taking care of the… the actual bouquet in his car outside.
That’s right, he’s a hopeless idiot. But he’ll do something, alright? Just… after the appointment.
It’s currently 6:45pm, Keith steadily wades through their regular routine with Lance as his last client before they’re meant to close up in fifteen minutes. And honestly, he could’ve just given Lance a “Screw off your hair hasn’t grown one bit”, but the thing is— he’s the one who offered. Hah! Keith wants him to stay! And Lance over here will happily take it, even if it was just a lousy onceover the boy made before patting the chair as an offer. Free time goes to Lancey-Lance.
“Is this punishment for annoying you all day?” he asks. Annoying as in prancing into the shop early in the afternoon with food as redemption for the amount of gossip he was ready to put Keith through the wringer with. Didn’t matter if the client in his seat was 6’7 with feet big enough to crush Lance, or just a toddler with feathery hair and a grease-covered iPad blasting YouTube compilation remixes, Lance still talked, and perhaps it even saved Keith some sanity to tune in on something else in the meantime.
Keith only hums, like he always does, but Lance still manages to get it anyway. He’s tired, he’s ready to close, and his neck probably hurts like hell.
“I’ve missed you,” he says suddenly. Maybe the reason he visited wasn’t just to irritate Keith (though that’s completely valid enough), his friend had also gone on a two week long vacation to visit his mom, and the last time Lance was separated from him the same amount was… months ago. Their first awkward stage of regularly scheduled cuts before he’d finally summed up enough guts to ask Keith to hang out in the first place because he was… yeah he was cool or whatever. So what? It’s not like anyone else would think any differently… Doesn’t matter because Keith is still a loser underneath it all.
A really attractive, intimidating, could-punch-Lance-in-the-face-if-he-wanted-to type loser…
You know what they say, distance makes the heart a bigger simp or something like that.
“Well I’m here now,” Keith says, but it’s low enough to read as gentle.
“Yeahhh, I guess…” he trails. Just freakin’ ask him out or something you big idiot— he’s home now and all tan and— and fine as hell like seriously say adios to your attraction to women because those thighs could seriously kill y—
“We should do something,” he finally says. Wow, a great way of actually stringing together a train of thought. Something.
Keith combs through his hair, its line of teeth tickling across his scalp through every gentle stroke. “Like what?”
‘Like I’ve thought that far ahead…’ he thinks to himself. ‘Maybe hold hands or cuddle at my place or furiously makeout in the back… Whatever works.’
He shrugs.
“Ion know, but you’re back now and I’ve been deadly bored sooo we can grab some dinner?” he suggests.
The combing almost stops short, his heartbeat along with it because he’s really wondering if it’s that obvious but this is what shooting your shot means, right? Maybe Keith’s oblivious self will say some crap like “I’m not hungry” or “Sure I don’t care”. Not like he’ll actually be able to—
“Wow Lance,” Keith says, a playful lilt in his voice. “Talking? Eating?” —Oh god, not this— “Are you asking me out on a date? ”
Alas, his logic (and Keith’s stupid memory) comes back to bite him in the ass.
“So you thought your lesbian coworker was asking you out on a date…”
“I didn’t know she was lesbian! A-and talking? Eating? That is literally the definition of—“
“Of normal human interaction?” Keith had finished while choking back his laughter, but the bubbles of it floated right through his lips and Lance would’ve rolled his eyes at his friend’s stupid smile, poorly hidden behind a hand, if the sight wasn’t already so distracting. “So why’d you say no anyway?”
And despite it all, while looking at Keith in that past moment with like, the biggest heart eyes ever, he only had it in him to answer “Beats me.”
But Lance now, in the present , is forcing his big boy pants on even with the crippling anxiety that comes with it as he turns his head to peer at Keith’s curious, devilish smile (because they’re one and the same at this point) and answer—
“Yeah, I am.”
Like really, he is, if those stupid flowers in the car are anything to go by, which holy crap would that be a whole new type of downer if Keith said no because what’s he gonna do with ‘em? Probably give them to his mama, honestly, which is gonna bring about a huge wave of guilt because he’s some sort of disappointment, single child before a mama’s boy. And then what? Another family reunion with no partner, no Keith to cuddle away on the loveseat with in Abuelita’s living room. His friend— his hopeful boyfriend saying how Lance is totally the handsomest of the bunch and planting a smooch on his head, and sealing the fate of the last McClain grandkid. Finally all his mother’s attempts at setting him up with another random young lady (or man) at the next wedding are batted away.
It won’t happen if Keith says no, but it also won’t happen if he doesn’t stick through this, dammit.
However difficult it may be, especially with Keith turning the chair of his own accord, making Lance face him like a cowering bachelor on the judgement seat while a flush blooms across the apples of his own pale cheeks. Right under the bright lights. Lance has officially stupefied his barber, and Shiro’s hand smacked over his own mouth in the mirror’s reflection is doing absolutely nothing to help.
“A-Are you serious or just…” Keith asks as his fingertip grazes down the comb’s teeth, and water droplets slide down Lance’s neck the same way nervous sweat would if he had enough time to freak himself out that much.
Well, Shiro did tell him Keith was gay, right? Like clearly this dude’s been trying to set something up anyway, and maybe for once Lance is grateful for matchmaking that leans in his favor.
“Yeah, I-I am— Unless you'd prefer the uh, normal human interaction instead…”
Please don’t choose normal please don’t choose normal please don’t—
Keith laughs, but it’s more of a shocked chuff if anything, and Lance isn’t sure what to make of it, especially with his head hung this low now just to stave off any visible embarrassment.
“I think…” Keith says, the tip of the wet comb touching Lance’s chin as it lifts his head back up to meet his friend’s considerate gaze, framed by stupidly choppy bangs he still doesn’t know how this guy pulls off. “I’d prefer the date.”
“Yess,” Shiro hisses from behind, as just as quickly he scurries to gather all his belongings when Keith looks his way. “I mean I’m gonna uhh go put this stuff away and— stuff.”
He tells himself it’s worth awkwardness anyway, even after Shiro is gone and all Lance has left in him to say is “Okay… cool” with a blush before Keith goes out of his way to blast him with the hairdryer again before insisting “Don’t be weird.”
But he’s smiling, ohohooo boy Keith is smiling all throughout those snips and the fleeting touches in between.
He learns a lot about Keith that night after closing. Ya know, the stuff he’s wanted to know since forever and a haircut ago. Like how he insists to pay for the food on a first date, does the freakin’ thumb stroking thing when they hold hands, and actually lets Lance’s stupid pickup lines slide if they’re whispered in his ear.
He acts like he dreads getting gifts — flowers— in the car with a sweet song playing on Lance’s endless “im pining nobody touch me” playlist, but the kisses that follow prove otherwise.
As boyfriends:
“Dunno how this happens when you have barely any chest hairs,” Keith says as he wipes the remaining shaving cream off his hands and picks up a fine blade for his handiwork.
Lance scowls at him over the whipped white smears, like a disgruntled mall Santa wearing a ridiculously tacky beard, except any real facial hair on Lance’s own face is short and prickly. However many times his height has shot past nearly every McClain family member, or these limbs overcame their scrawniness after the last of his teenage years, there’s some other things he hasn’t— well, he isn’t exactly used to . Like actually shaving once day, or remembering that his broad shoulders —however dashingly attractive— aren’t well equipped for his clumsy habits, and an eager makeout session only ends with Keith holding an ice pack to his shoulder blade because they couldn’t even make it into the bedroom without smacking into its door frame. How pleasant.
“Well I thought you loved every inch of me, you’ve said it yourself,” he says haughtily.
Of course he’d remember, every significant little thing Keith does creates a tab in his mind. Honestly he thought the habit would stop when his crush finally worked itself into something more— but no, it got worse. Or better, or something. He can’t really describe it, just that he holds random moments dear to him like a kid collecting pretty rocks, and having Keith's eyes on him is a dark gemstone in itself.
“Your…” his boyfriend trailed just a few days ago, thick brows furrowed under the bright light of his apartment bathroom. “Your face.”
“My face?” Lance had immediately said with a panicked hand rising to his cheek. “W-What’s wrong is—?”
“No, babe—“ Babe, god let him collapse, “—seriously it’s okay. Just looks like you haven’t shaved in awhile.” Keith stroked his knuckles down the line of Lance’s jaw and sure enough, it’d left little tingles in its wake. How’d he not notice before?
But when he reached for the razor with a grumbly little “Ergh”, cursing himself for slacking off on a simple part of his morning routine, Keith hurriedly swatted his hand away.
“Hold on— let’s just… I can do it at the shop.” His weekday shift was just around the corner, and who’s Lance to deny some nice quality time with his boyfriend? After all, Keith seemed a bit eager anyway, another tab kept in that smug pocket of Lance’s mind.
Except now. Because Keith is being mean and stupid.
“Mmm only on the weekends,” Keith shrugs nonchalantly as he places the pad of his thumb onto Lance’s cheekbone and holds the skin taut for a proper stroke. Of course he jumps right to it without a second to spare for Lance’s affronted complaining.
Lance feels his eye twitch. “I don’t like you very much right now,” he mutters through the clench of his teeth, but it’s like a child feigning innocence next to a wall covered in scribbled sharpie. It’s a complete opposite of the truth and frankly he’s glad Keith’s one to keep up with their jokes— even lead the way sometimes. All those past setups with random dates were uh, boring, to say the least.
And yet however blunt Keith may seem, at least he smiles when he smacks a pillow across Lance’s face after hearing “Keithyyy c’mere pspspspsps”. He does his own whistling to catch Lance’s attention just to get back at him— and no, he isn’t a dog or anything, he’s constantly in tune with his surroundings, of course. Not like he’s slept through a smoke alarm before… heh.
(Don’t leave Keith alone in the kitchen.)
“I don’t like you either,” Keith says, then blops a spot of shaving cream onto Lance’s nose.
“But do you looove me?” he asks with a smirk as Keith wipes the blade clean.
“I will have to think about that.”
Lies. Lance has already heard it before. Finally at a family reunion he’d practically dreamt of bringing his boyfriend to just to show off. Keith’s social fuse burned out and disintegrated by the end of the night, leaving him with only enough energy to curl up next to Lance on the loveseat and mutter “I love you” for the first time over the slow tune of Abuelita’s oldies music playing on CD. Lance could’ve cried.
He did, poor Keith thought he’d overstepped when Lance’s hidden sniffles were just from being emotional. Being happy.
“Thaaat’s not what you said last night,” he sing-sings a bit suggestively. Ah yes, because there’s a lot more to Keith than his modest couch cuddles to say the least. What a nice view Lance has got right now with the man turned around. Great thighs and ass and back and—
scowl, thrown right over his shoulder. Hah…
Keith wipes the spot off Lance’s nose with a little more pressure than necessary. “No talking.”
He resumes his work on Lance’s chin, and the space above his cupid’s bow while holding his jaw firmly. Lance should not be thinking it’s hot right now, especially when he could get a patch of skin sliced right off with one wrong movement. But then again… then again… Keith’s thumb is so close to his lip and he’s really wondering if the view on his boyfriend’s end looks just as tempting.
Except his reverie runs right through the shredder when he remembers they’re not in a bedroom, this is a barbershop, free to wandering eyes and ears and Shiro totally just overheard their conversation. Lance doesn’t even have to look to know that man is oh-so-chipper wearing a devious smile.
His facial hair is now successfully shaved away and the stray pieces are puffed off his skin with a brush. He honestly wonders why they’d never done this before (probably because he didn’t notice how fast this stuff is growing to begin with), the feeling of cool serum smoothed onto his skin and Keith’s noticeable humming is downright heavenly. If they were at either of their homes right now he’d be dragging this man into his lap pronto.
“Am I handsome now?” he mumbles. Uh duh, of course he is, except hearing it from Keith is like, the biggest ego boost ever.
Going by the face Keith gives him, his boyfriend is well aware of that too. “Yes, darling.” Aww.
“You love me?” he asks through smooshed cheeks.
“Mm still thinking about that one.”
“No you aren’t.”
Keith chuffs. “I’m not,” he says, then leans close to Lance’s ear as he unclasps the cape. “Now head to the back.”
No need to tell him twice.
He’s found himself here before, both for the sake of actual responsibilities like fetching Keith supplies or more uh, elective things that end with his lips glossy and a blazing trail up his back when Keith’s hand ventures across the bare skin past the hem of his shirt. It’s almost become this routine or something (not that he’s complaining), and although it’s not exactly spoken in the hot air between them, Lance knows he looks good. Good enough to jump at the end of an appointment at least, the same way Keith comes back to his apartment to find Lance readily waiting on the bed for a lousy night spent together, and Keith all but sprawls himself over Lance the second he changes clothes.
He never would've suspected it, honestly, since before he’d had the guts to ask Keith out to begin with, he’d always seen the man as untouchable. Literally, even the most fleeting contact made Lance anxious after seeing his friend get so… jumpy.
Turns out it’s because if Keith holds onto something, he won’t let go. It was downright suffocating at first, in a really, really good way. Now that it’s been long enough, Keith is comfortable, there’s room to breathe and take sweet time since Lance doesn’t plan on going anywhere so long as Keith says the word.
And when his knees have turns wobbly not long after Keith draws him in by the collar and a smooth pair of lips, he feels his heart stammer just like all those times before.
peck —“I do love you”— peck —“Am I supposed to make it any more obvious?”
“Who doesn’t need a little reminder?” Lance responds playfully, his thumbs smooth over Keith’s knuckles on either side, and although his boyfriend’s nose scrunches a little with a telltale eye roll to accompany it, he knows there’s a promise in there. Unspoken.
Because Keith came into Lance’s life with a snip—
“I suppose you’re right…”
—and stayed with a smooch.