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English
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Published:
2016-08-05
Words:
1,546
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
14
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246
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1,483

Spite Date™

Summary:

Lance probably should’ve suspected something was up when Pidge set him up for this blind date. Pidge never does nice things for him. Never.

Well at least, not explicitly where Lance can hold it against them and prove they do have a heart, the little devil spawn. So, really, this was kind of his fault. Except no one had to know he was admitting that. Besides, he’s pretty sure he can blame Keith for this too.
--
Based on that one text post about: Two people who hate each other meet by chance in a typical date venue and refuse to leave because it would mean the other person won. It turns out to be a lovely evening, if you ignore the glaring and the refusal to change seats or split a dessert

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Lance probably should’ve suspected something was up when Pidge set him up for this blind date. Pidge never does nice things for him. Never.

Well at least, not explicitly where Lance can hold it against them and prove they do have a heart, the little devil spawn. So, really, this was kind of his fault. Except no one had to know he was admitting that. Besides, he’s pretty sure he can blame Keith for this too.

The café he walked into was full, but not crowded. There was a kid hunched over his coffee in front of his laptop near the counter, a girl by the softer chairs by the side window with a book on her lap, at least two groups of friends letting out an occasional hoot, but mostly the café was full of pair of people chatting over their lunch. It was a soft, gentle murmur of white noise behind the louder welcome greeting from the counter. The place was well lit; its big giant windows covered the front and the right side of the shop, letting in the afternoon shine. Lance stood by the doorway, careful not to block as his eyes landed on Keith.

‘Near the back, beside the wall with no windows wearing a white tank and a blue beanie,’ just like Pidge’s message had said.

He was gonna sit on that cunning little midget.

Keith hadn’t seen him yet, too busy thumbing through his phone. Aside from the muscle tank and beanie, he was wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans with his black combat boots and a red plaid tied around his waist. Lance tugged at his own suddenly-too-tight black shirt.

He figured there was no way Keith could have known he was his blind date. At least, at that moment, Lance had the upper hand of the Unfortunate Situation™. Fake it ‘til you make it.

“Hey hipster, been waiting long?” he says as nonchalantly as he possibly could when he neared his table—their table, and pulled out the vacant chair.

Keith visibly tensed up, to Lance’s shallow delight, and narrowed his eyes at him. He plopped himself down before meeting Keith’s glare with a smirk.

“Go away Lance,” he scoffed and looked towards the entryway, “I’m waiting for my date.”

“Well you’re in luck old buddy, old pal, old friend—”

Keith interrupted, “We are none of those.”

“Today,” Lance ignored him and continued, “You have been gifted with my amazing presence for your date.”

Keith’s big round eyes got even bigger and if Lance wasn’t starting to feel the frustration of the situation ebbing in his bones, he would have laughed at him. He dropped his smirk, and glared at Keith as if it was his fault they were in this mess right then.

“What the fuck?” Keith murmured mostly to himself and paused, “I am never trusting Allura ever again.”

Lance hummed and waited for Keith to make an even bigger explosion and stomp right out of the café. At least he would have the satisfaction of watching Keith lose and bail out.

Keith narrowed his eyes at him as if knowing exactly what Lance was thinking about.

“I’m not leaving,” he said and crossed his arms.

Lance narrowed his eyes at him and grabbed for the small menu by their side, flipping it open all the while maintaining eye contact at the grumpy boy.

“Well neither am I.”

 

---

 

The thing about their Spite Date™—Lance changed its name—was that it was actually… pretty nice. All things considered.

The silent glaring didn’t let up until their food arrived; baked rice for Lance and some sort of cream-based pasta for Keith. The two boys took one look at the food in front of them, looked back up to each other, and silently nodded a truce while their stomachs let out small little rumbles. When Lance bit into his spoonful of steaming rice, chicken and stringy cheese, he swallowed a yelp at his now-slightly-burnt tongue and closed his eyes when he swallowed.

Ugh, so worth it.

Conversation flowed easily enough after that, surprisingly. After Keith showed as much appreciation for his food as Lance did, they fell into an easy rhythm of banter on rice versus pasta. There was only so much rice benefits Lance could list out on the top of his head. Eventually the two started a competition on how many rice and pasta dishes were on the menu (they tied at 5) and currently ordered in the shop (they tied at 3 each but only because the staff cleaned up ridiculously fast and they were getting weird looks from an old couple beside them). They kept scores on the napkins using the things they picked out of their food as markers; onions for Keith and peas for Lance.

The peace and tranquility of the Spite Date™ didn’t last very long though. The glares came back on when they were ordering desserts. Lance took too long to decide between a lava cake and tiramisu when Keith ordered both for the two of them.

“Dude,” he said almost fondly, “we can split them, I don’t mind.”

Lance had gasped and dramatically clutched at his chest, the image of a sacred lava cake defiled by the notion of sharing burned into his mind. As if suddenly remembering the person in front of him is supposed to be his sworn rival and not his actually-pretty-great date, he scrunched up his face at Keith.

“YOU’D LIKE THAT WOULDN’T YOU,” he accused loud enough for most of the people in the café to hear and turn their attention towards them.

Visibly ticked off by Lance’s childishness, Keith took the tiramisu when it arrived and just gobbled the entire thing down. All the while glaring at Lance with every chew.

Lance, shocked and begrudgingly impressed, leered at him over the table.

“Is nothing sacred anymore?” He hissed at him, “Not even dessert?”

“Shut up and eat your lava cake, Lance.”

 

---

 

The two were still arguing about Desserts and the Proper Way to Eat Them, according to Lance, when they stepped out of the café and into the soft evening breeze.

Lance had shivered while explaining the difference between muffins and cupcakes when Keith unknotted his plaid around his waist and handed it to him wordlessly. Too worked up during his rant—“MUFFINS ARE THE UGLY ONES KEITH HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS”— Lance put on the red plaid while he flailed around, trying to make his point.

Keith smiled behind his hand, far too amused that Lance had been too caught up in his own dessert-driven world that he didn’t even protest the gesture. It was almost cute.

The walk back home was pleasant enough, Lance had moved on from the dessert discourse and they started talking about Pidge and Allura.

“Since when did those two talk often enough to plot against us anyway,” Lance grumbled, burrowing himself deeper in the soft plaid.

Keith hummed and stuffed his hands in his jeans, looking away from Lance’s cold, hunched over figure.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” he shrugged, “they are dating after all.”

Keith had taken three steps before he realized Lance had stopped, jaw unhinged and eyes comically wide.

“What,” he deadpanned.

“What?” Keith asked, “You didn’t know again?”

Lance groaned and frustratingly rubbed at his face. He looked up at the dimming sky and threw both his hands up in the air.

“Why am I always the last to know anything?!”

 

---

 

Before any of them had noticed, it was already dusk. Even after taking a detour at the park after Lance had challenged Keith on who could stay on the carousel the longest. And then it was who could hang off the monkey bars the longest. And then it was who could climb up the jungle gym the fastest.

By the time they got to Lance’s apartment building, the sun had already started to set and the sky was painted in soft streaks of orange and pink. They stood in front of the building, suddenly hyperaware of the situation and the entire day that they just went through. It was silent and awkward, and Keith itched to break it with something.

Before he could, he startled when Lance had cleared his throat and looked straight at him with a glare.

“Today wasn’t so bad,” Lance grumbled, scratching the back of his head.

Keith’s lips twitched and he coughed to hide it, but he knew it was too late. Judging by the grin on Lance’s face, he had already the smile his traitorous face let out.

“You’re not such a bad date,” he huffed and then smirked, “And I did win most of your playground challenges so that was definitely fun.”

Lance’s jaw dropped before he gave one last cry and glare at him before stomping into the building. He let out a bark of laughter at Lance’s reaction and shouted goodbye over the slammed door.

Keith relaxed as he walked away from the building, full out grinning and chuckling to himself as he remembered random moments Lance was at his highest level of ridiculousness.

“Yeah, definitely fun.”

 

---


To: Keith
From: Lance

u left ur plaid. return u next time?

//

To: Lance
From: Keith

Sure, it’s a date.

Notes:

it's like 2.30am and i have an exam in 17 hours lmao i'm sorry if there are any mistakes or inconsistencies, i literally wrote this in one go because it wouldn't leave me alone?? also i haven't written fics in 2 years??

please let me know so i can fix it and stuff *finger guns*

this is the text post responsible for this

 
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