Work Text:
“Puppetry, Hunk,” Lance said with palpable distaste. “She was a puppetry major and she tried to tell me that sculpture was useless. PUPPETS.” He hoisted himself up onto the wooden tabletop, ignoring the cloud of clay dust that billowed out once he dropped down on the table. His ripped, clay caked bleached jeans were very accustomed to the amount of abuse he often put his clothes through, and his paint splattered form fitting cream colored cropped t-shirt and long red plaid flannel shirt were no different.
“Like she made the puppets or she just performed with them? Or both?” Hunk asked glancing up at his friend from the pottery wheel where he was currently forming a very large vase.
“I don't know, both?” Lance shrugged running a moderately clay dusty hand through his short hair. “Well either way it was a bust. No more dates for me, I'm done.”
“Yeah you said that last time,” Hunk scoffed, tossing the excess wet clay into the bucket next to him, easing his foot off the pressure on the pedal, reducing the speed of the wheel to a slow crawl.
“No but I mean it this time,” Lance frowned leaning back on his hands on the table. “I am completely, 100% never ever going to date while I'm here ever again. Because there is no one that I'm interested in that isn't totally crazy.”
“Yeah ok,” Hunk chuckled skeptically, turning back to his vase with a small wet sponge. “We'll see.”
“I'm serious,” Lance continued. “There's no one that I could possibly—”
“Excuse me, but is anyone else using the other wheel?”
Lance fell completely silent, staring blankly at the guy who came in and spoke. His mouth ran completely dry as he took in his tight, light wash jeans with a loose dark red tshirt tucked in just in the front, making Lance’s eyes dip right to the black silver studded belt around his waist. The guys hand held the strap of his backpack up on his shoulder, where his hair had been pulled back into a small ponytail, showing off the series of piercings dotting his ears. The one lip ring on the side of his mouth drew Lance’s attention the most and he found himself fixating on that one spot.
“Yeah it's free man, go for it,” Hunk smiled friendly at him, gesturing to the other pottery wheels in the ceramics work room they were in.
“Thanks,” he said walking over and dropping his bag by a wheel a few away from where Hunk and Lance were sitting.
Lance still couldn’t speak as he watched the guy walk back and forth around the room, gathering his clay and water and other materials to sit at the pottery wheel. He couldn’t help himself as his eyes followed the flex of his arms as he sliced the wire through the block of clay, or the curve of his unfairly perfect ass in his unfairly perfectly tight jeans as he bent to fill the bucket with water from the sink that was unfairly low to the ground.
“You alright there Lance?” Hunk asked smirking up at him.
“I'm— I'm totally fine,” Lance said recovering quickly, looking away as the guy put on headphones before throwing a chunk of clay at the center of the wheel.
“I'm sure you are,” Hunk scoffed, turning back to his wheel.
Lance frowned down at him, but he couldn't ignore the fluttering in his stomach as he watched the guy nimbly shape the clay with ease as the pottery wheel spun. He had a fleeting thought that this wasn't going to be the last time he saw this guy.
Even though he had never seen that guy before in the year that he'd been going to college, it was like the dam had broken, because Lance saw him everywhere. From the sculpture rooms, to the library, to the cafeteria, the guy was everywhere Lance was, and it only made it that much harder to ignore the hot buzzing he felt inside every time he saw him. He even saw him once at the convenience store off campus at 2am buying an ungodly amount of energy drinks; though Lance was in no place to judge as the items that he had run in there for were a gallon sized container of Hawaiian Punch and 4 boxes of double stuffed Oreos.
But it seemed like he couldn't avoid this guy at all. Especially as he walked into the department's largest sculpture room, and there he was, sitting at the far end of the room by the large windows, padding out a life sized armature, taking from a comically tall stack of newspapers on the stool next to him. Lance froze for half a second, staring at the look of pure concentration on his face as he ripped a piece of painter's tape with his teeth and placed it on the armature. Debating on wether or not to stay, Lance quickly pivoted and exited the room, deciding that he could sketch just about anywhere.
And that's how things developed for a few weeks. Lance would see the hot guy (as Lance had taken to referring to him in his head) and he'd get so weirdly nervous he'd just leave. Naturally as soon as he was out of the vicinity, he'd beat himself up for chickening out, but he was never able to convince himself to go back and talk to him.
He knew he wasn't normally like that, he was far from afraid to go and talk to someone. Usually he had no problem seeing someone he found attractive and just marching straight over to them until he either got a date or got slapped. But with the hot guy it was different. He felt intimidated and nervous and so not like himself, and he kicked himself for it all the time.
And he thought he'd never ever really get over it. Not unless he was forced to. Which is exactly what happened to him.
“His name’s Keith by the way,” his friend Pidge added as she set up the paints on her pallet.
“Wha–what?” Lance asked, startled. He looked up at her from where he was on the floor, organizing his box of acrylics where he could subtly (not a chance) check out the hot guy from across the room as he painted on a mid sized easel. Feeling caught off guard by his small friend suddenly speaking at him, Lance had jumped in place slightly, sending tube of paint crashing everywhere.
“The guy, the hot guy as you call him,” Pidge smirked dipping her paintbrush in the small container of water before cleaning it on the paper towel in her hand. “His name is Keith. He's a fine arts major with a concentration in installation.”
“Oh,” Lance swallowed watching the way the hot—Keith, was painting with sure, precise movements. “How come I've only seen him this year?”
“He's a transfer student,” Pidge said like it was obvious. “Used to be a business major at his other school, but now he makes the most beautiful art, honestly it’s really good.”
Lance made a face. “No I'm serious go look at his work.”
“And how do you know all this?” Lance asked dubiously. “Like about him and stuff.”
“Because I asked,” Pidge laughed. “He's in a lot of my freshman classes since he's a transfer. But he's really good. Go talk to him.” Lance made another more doubtful and grimacing face. “I'm serious.”
“Fine,” Lance sighed heavily, dropping the last of his acrylic paints in his art box before standing up from the floor. He adjusted his clothes, brushing off the back of his jeans and fixing his blue and white striped t-shirt so the hemline sat just above the waistband of his jeans. “Watch the master.”
“Whatever,” Pidge scoffed, turning back to her painting as Lance sauntered over across the room where Keith was painting.
“Hey,” Lance said in his most low and attractive voice. He draped himself over the unoccupied easel that was next to Keith's, hoping to look at devastatingly hot as he could. “I'm Lance.” He gave Keith a seductive grin, raising his arm and folding it behind his head, letting the short shirt ride up and expose his taught stomach.
Keith did not look up one second from his painting, and only continued working. He was perched up on the highest stool in the studio, painting without pause. Briefly, Lance’s eyes took him in, taking advantage of being so close to him for the first time. Keith wore a rather beat up, old black sweater that had paint and gesso caked all over the sleeves which were pushed up to his elbows. His black jeans also had flecks of paint on them which matched the paint on his white headphone wires that came from the large white headphones that sat around his ears. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but because of his concentration on his work, he hadn’t noticed a few strands falling in front of his face.
Feeling weirdly foolish, but glad that he wasn’t being purposely ignored, Lance tried speaking again in a louder tone hoping to attract Keith’s attention.
“Hey,” Lance said again, pushing his hand through his hair in a way he hoped looked attractive. “I’ve seen you around a lot, thought I should introduce myself.” Not one moment of a break in Keith’s focus. Lance felt embarrassment burn hot at his cheeks, and made the decision to cut his losses before he could be ignored for a 3rd time.
Curling in on himself from where he had spread his body leaning against the easel, Lance pivoted in place, and marched back over to Pidge, feeling rebuffed and small. He plopped himself down on the floor again, his back facing Keith behind him so he wouldn’t have to be reminded of how he utterly failed to talk to the hot guy he’d been crushing on for weeks. The sting of rejection seeped into his back, frustration and humiliation filled his mouth as he went back to organizing his art box on the floor.
“So how’d it—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lance interrupted before Pidge could ever finish her question.
Embarrassment wasn’t something that Lance liked experiencing. In fact, one could argue that his bravado and attitude was designed specifically so that he would incur the least amount of embarrassment as possible. But on the occasions where he felt small and embarrassed, he would go into himself, sprouting the prickly barbs on the edges of his personality that would protect his already bruised ego from further harm.
This time was no different. He sat in the library, a myriad of textbooks on east asian art spread around him, trying to memorize the exact order of The 8 Fold Path for his Buddhism quiz the next morning, when he heard a backpack drop on the table across from him. Pulling out one of his earbuds, Lance looked up to see who was sitting down across from him to see none other than Keith, pulling book after book out of his bag.
Frowning at him, Lance could feel all the annoyance that had been building up inside him from the past weeks bubble to the surface. He scowled at Keith, he watched as he settled down on the table, flipping to various pages in a multitude of books, a handful of different colored pens laying on the table next to him as he began to take notes on the thickest book in front of him. A quick glance around the room told Lance that not only were they the only ones there, but they were the only ones there and both occupying the exact same table. This brazen ignoring of basic social cues to sit at an already taken table only served to annoy Lance further.
“Seriously,” Lance said flatly, glowering at Keith across from him. “Keith, you could have chosen any table and you sat here.”
“What?” Keith said looking up at Lance. Had Lance not already been annoyed and stressed and oh so tired, he might have actually gotten a small fluttering in his stomach from being addressed so directly by Keith for the first time. But 3 hours of studying and the memory of being snubbed was far too fresh in his mind for his usual level of flirtation.
“You. Sitting at my table,” Lance said gesturing to the square table they both occupied. “There’s like, a thousand tables here. And you came and sat at mine. What gives?”
“Oh,” Keith blinked, like he just realized he was sitting at the same table as Lance. “I didn’t even think about it. I just always sit here.”
“Well, I’m kind of sitting here now,” Lance pressed hoping Keith would get the point.
“I would move but the outlet is here and I’m charging my phone,” Keith said gesturing to the outlet on the floor where he had plugged his charger in. Lance frowned further.
“Fine,” Lance gritted, putting the other headphone back into his ear and forcing himself to ignore Keith’s presence across from him.
Their mutual studying silence lasted a long time, way longer than Lance had expected. Keith was surprisingly quiet when he studied; didn’t move around or fidget much, unlike Lance who needed to roll and crack his neck every few minutes. Lance had nothing to complain about; Keith didn’t tap his pen against the table, or drum his fingers, or chew loudly, or sigh heavily, or do anything that Lance could pinpoint as annoying. All of which annoyed Lance to no end.
All he wanted was to be able to do was to have a reason to say something to Keith. Anything at all— Lance was willing to reprimand him for any sort of irritating habit or something just so he can break the silence. He kept glancing up at him to see if he even acknowledged his existence past their brief conversation, to no avail.
After over an hour of quiet, diligent note taking, Keith carefully packed up his books and charger into his bag and left the library without so much as a cursory glance back at Lance. The exit was abrupt, and stung him as if Keith had purposefully wanted to make Lance feel snubbed. The feeling was like sandpaper on his skin, only serving to send a pang of annoyance down Lance’s spine.
Lance was surprised to find that was not an isolated incident. The next time he was alone in the library studying for his next brutal art history exam, he found Keith dropping into the seat across from him, using the outlet to charge his phone and taking multicolored notes on a plethora of textbooks which were flung out all over his side of the table. Occasionally he’d have a small MacBook Air covered in decals out in front of him, but he seemed to prefer taking notes by hand.
At first Lance was very opposed to having Keith become his unofficial study buddy. After being rejected weeks ago, his ego hadn't exactly healed from being bruised. And having Keith sit across from him regularly was like putting a glass of water in front of a parched man, if the water had totally ignored the man’s existence and also probably still didn't know the man's name.
But after a few times of them studying in relatively companionable silence, Lance started to warm up to him. Besides the fact that he liked glancing up at Keith every so often, watching him unconsciously bite at his lip ring while he read, or tie and untie his hair to tie again in a ponytail as he wrote. Lance liked having someone there while he studied. He even loosely thought of it as their “thing” just sitting in the library quietly.
After a few weeks, Lance even started bringing in snacks, enough to share between the two of them. The first time he offered Keith some of his Doritos, he swore he even saw him smile as he took a few. There was a swooping in Lance’s gut as he watched Keith grow comfortable around him enough to bring snacks of his own for the both of them. And by the end of the semester as they studied for their finals, they had a veritable smorgasbord of food on the library table between.
“Can you pass the cookies?” Lance asked motioning to the open box of soft baked Chips Ahoy next to him.
“Sure,” Keith said absentmindedly, passing him the box without looking up from his notes.
As Lance reached for the box, his fingers accidentally brushed Keith's, sending an aggressive blush coursing through his body. He was mildly embarrassed that he could see no such reaction on Keith's face, but he shook his head free of his thoughts and went to focusing back on his test notes.
“Lance?”
Surprised, Lance looked up at Keith who was staring up at him. He swallowed, growing annoyed with himself that just hearing Keith says his name was enough the send his heart racing but, he was weak for the hot guy and he couldn’t help how he made him feel. Pulling out an ear bud from his ear, Lance looked up at Keith expectantly.
“Ye-yeah?” Lance said, eyes darting across Keith's face.
“Do you have another black pen? Mine just ran out of ink,” Keith asked shaking the empty pen between his fingers.
“Oh,” Lance blinked. “Yeah man, uh here.” He reached into his bag on the table, felt around at the bottom until he found the black pen he was looking for. “There you go.”
“Thanks,” Keith said, giving him a quick nod and taking the pen. Again their fingers brushed and Lance felt his face heat up from the skin contact.
“No problem,” Lance said watching Keith immediately get back to taking notes.
“It was brutal Hunk,” Lance groaned stretching out on Hunk’s dorm bed. “So, so fucking brutal.”
“It's one test,” Hunk rolled his eyes with a small smile as Lance rolled over to lay face down on the bed. He was practically engulfed by the oversized navy sweater he was wearing and if it wasn't for his white skinny jeans it would have looked like Lance was under a warm woolen blanket. “Come on get up man. Finals are over now. We only have critiques left and then you're golden until next semester.
“But I'm so tired,” Lance mumbled into the bedding.
“Ok, but like, are you too tired to go to a party?” Hunk asked knowingly. Lance hated how Hunk knew exactly what to say.
“What party?” Lance questioned lifting his head up from the mattress and twisting it around to look at Hunk who was sat at the desk behind him, sketchbook and markers out on the work space.
“Shiro is having his end of semester bash,” Hunk said selecting the prisma colors he was going to use on his sketchbook. “Its tomorrow night if you wanna go. We could go over after critique. If you wanna go. Keith is gonna be there.”
“Wait—what— how do you know?” Lance asked turning completely around and sitting up on the bed staring at his friend with a furrowed brow.
“Because he's the one who told me that the party was tomorrow,” Hunk said like it was obvious.
“You're friends with him!?”
“Yeah, we have Modern Art together on Tuesdays,” Hunk said selecting a marker. “He's cool.”
“I didn't know you guys were friends,” Lance mumbled mostly to himself.
“Well don't you guys like have study dates in the library all the time?” Hunk said with a grin.
“They're not dates!” Lance blushed, looking away from Hunk and folding his long legs up to his chest. “We just study...in the library at the same time. It's not planned or anything….”
Lance thought back to the last few times when they were cramming for finals and Keith gave him a small smile as he sat down across from him and pulled out a bunch of snacks to share with him. How he watched Keith die of stress and overworking, and just drop his head face first onto the the table on his notebooks and let out an exasperated groan. And just as they were packing up to go on the night before their final, Keith just gave him a small smile as they left the library and said “good luck” before walking off towards his dorm. Lance remembered how his heart palpitated and he couldn’t bite through his smile all the way back to his dorm.
“Lance?” Hunk said cutting through his thoughts.
“Hmm? Yes um— the party,” Lance stumbled, hoping he hadn’t been blushing or anything. “Yeah we should totally go.”
Walking towards Shiro’s house off campus, Lance could feel and hear the music long before he and Hunk turned the corner. Despite being almost Christmas, the last streams of warmth from the setting sun kept the desert temperature just below 70 degrees. Taking full advantage of the lasting warmth, Lance wore his favorite ripped acid washed jeans and a white crop top that said “cute as fcuk” in black, showing off the V on his lower abdomen that dipped into his pants. He knew by the stares and enthusiastic “heys” he got as he walked into the party that he looked as good as he felt.
“Yo,” Pidge said as Lance and Hunk walked over to her where she was sitting on the back of the couch with their other friend.
“Hey Pidge,” Hunk said plopping himself down on the couch beneath Pidge and next to their friend Shay who beamed at the sight of Hunk. “Shay,” He said smiling brightly at her.
“Hi Hunk,” Shay grinned, moving over so he could have more room on the couch. “I’m glad you came. I was wondering when you would get here.”
“Oh,” Hunk blushed, rubbing the back of his neck, almost pushing Pidge into the wall with his large hand. “I—I’m here now.”
“Yes you are,” Shay said with a smile.
“Well I’m here too,” Lance said cutting in, getting a glare from Pige.
“Keith isn’t here yet,” Pidge said flatly, reaching down to the side table next to the couch and grabbing her red solo cup.
“I didn’t even say anything!” Lance said defensively, throwing his arms up.
“You were thinking it,” Pidge said squinting her eyes at him.
“I didn’t say a thing,” Lance grumbled, taking a seat on the chair opposite them, crossing his arms, and trying not to look to disappointed.
A while later, Lance found himself sort of forgetting that he was looking for Keith at the party. Lance made his way around the party, chatting and drinking with all his classmates, glad that the pressure from their finals and critiques were over. It felt nice to socialize without having to think about how he had work to do.
It was well over an hour and a half after he arrived at the party when Lance finally saw Keith. Talking to Shiro and his girlfriend Allura in the kitchen, Keith was on top of the counter, smiling and talking happily. Lance’s stomach practically flipped when he saw Keith properly laugh for the first time, the sound of his laugh like soft wind chimes. He almost couldn’t believe it when he found his smile was being directed at him.
“Lance!” Keith called out to him from the kitchen. It took Lance a minute to move, but once he was in control of his feet, Lance walked over to them in the kitchen.
“Hey guys,” Lance said running a hand through his hair. “What’s up?”
“Keith was just telling us how you’ve been helping him pass his exams all semester,” Allura said gesturing between them. Confused didn’t begin to cover how Lance felt.
“I have?” Lance said looking over at Keith for confirmation.
“Yeah,” Keith nodded, smiling softly at Lance. “Our study sessions saved my life.”
“Oh,” Lance blushed, blinking owlishly at Keith. He felt like he had lost his footing with Keith all of a sudden. The quiet, furrowed brow hottie he was used to was now a soft, smiling and giggly marshmallow in front of him and Lance had no idea how to react. If his increased heart rate was any indication of how this new side of Keith was making him feel, Lance thought he wouldn’t survive the night. “Well, you know, I'm one of the best study buddies.
“I haven’t graded Keith’s final on renaissance art yet, but what I skimmed over looked good,” Shiro said with a grin. “I guess he can thank you for that. He’s usually a basket case when it comes to studying.”
“Oh of course,” Lance said haughtily, smirking at Keith who gave him a glare that was somewhat weakened by the smile he still had. “But it was nice to study with someone actually,” Lance added looking at Keith, the fluttering in his stomach picking up in speed. “And Keith’s pretty face is great to stare at when you’re procrastinating so…” Lance immediately wanted to return the words back into his mouth as he saw the look of surprise form on Keith’s face.
“Well then,” Allura said raising her eyebrows looking between them.
“Um,” Lance began, his usual bottomless bravado failing him now. “I’m gonna just—” and without another word he spun around and walked out of the kitchen, and away from the blank look on Keith’s face.
Lance walked until he was outside, sitting on the flattest rock he could find in the dark side yard of Shiro’s house, away from the thumping noise of the party inside. Hanging his head in his hands, Lance rested his elbows on his knees cursing himself for blurting that out loud. Normally he didn’t think twice about being overly flirtatious with someone he found attractive; it was kind of his thing to flirt with anyone and everyone. But there was something about Keith, it made Lance’s heart race, and just being around him made the hairs on his skin stand up on end, and thoughts of his dark hair in a small ponytail and his silver lip ring kept Lance almost permanently distracted.
Rubbing his eyes, Lance wished he never met Keith. He knew he was being dramatic, but what were the odds that the hottest, most interesting and devastatingly sweet guy was going to be interested in him? The self secured confident persona that Lance liked to portray would say that it was obvious that anyone who couldn’t see that he was an amazing catch didn’t deserve him anyway. But in reality, Lance’s insecurities were painfully crippling, so much that the thought he had just ruined things by opening his mouth and making Keith uncomfortable made Lance feel sick and angry with himself.
Lance was so involved in his self pity that he barely heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching where he was sitting. It wasn’t until the light from the street was blocked and Lance saw a two paint-stained black boots on the ground in front of him, that he raised his head. In front of him Keith stood, his hands deep in the front pockets of his black jeans, his red cropped jacket open to the soft cotton of the charcoal t-shirt underneath. Lance’s mouth ran dry.
“Hey,” Keith said rocking back and forth on his feet. “Mind if I share this bit of rock with you?”
“Uh,” Lance gulped, blinking up at him. “Sure.” He quickly moved over, wrapping his long arms around himself, distantly regretting not wearing something a bit warmer in the slight chill of the desert night.
“Um,” Keith began with a deep breath, looking in front of him as if he was searching for the words in the yard in front of him. “I’m not exactly sure how to say this…”
“...say what?” Lance swallowed, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.
“Did you, um…” Keith trailed off exhaling heavily. “Did you mean that? Back there? About, my face?”
“Oh that,” Lance said trying to play off his embarrassment. “Oh I was just, you know, saying, you know, stuff…” he saw the guarded hopeful look on Keith’s face and he thought twice about denying it. “Yeah I did.”
“Oh,” Keith nodded, as if he hadn’t expected that answer. Lance watched out of the corner of his eye as his teeth played with the silver lip ring, something he knew Keith did when he was thinking really hard. Somehow that gave him courage to say the words that had been sitting on his tongue.
“I think I really like you,” Lance said, almost like a question, as if he was tasting the words as they poured out of his mouth. Keith turned his head to look at him, eyes searching his face for any sign that he could be joking. “I know...we… aren’t really friends, or we aren’t...really anything. I’m pretty sure this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.” Keith let out a small breathy laugh, that gave Lance the courage to continue with more confidence. “But I really like you. And not just because I like to stare at your face— although that is a plus. You’re interesting in a way that I’ve never thought about anyone else. You made me like you without even talking to me, and I never shut up.” They both chuckled quietly. “I just like you.”
“Well you’re cute as fuck,” Keith said in a monotone voice. Lance’s cheeks immediately burned red, and he stared at Keith’s face. “Your shirt.” He pointed at Lance’s crop top and the black lettering that said exactly that on his chest.
“Oh,” Lance exhaled shakily. “Right, my shirt.” He couldn’t help but smile as he met Keith’s eyes, sharing a quiet moment.
“Lance I,” Keith began, leaning forward slightly, struggling to find the words he wanted to say.
“Yes?” Lance breathed, leaning towards him.
“I think…” Keith moved a bit closer.
“Yeah?” Lance whispered, just inches from his face.
“Um,” Keith swallowed, having moved closer, their lips just a breath away. “I think…”
“Keith,” Lance said quietly. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“Yeah?” Keith exhaled.
“If you’re gonna kiss me just do it already—” Lance barely got to finish his sentence before Keith’s warm, soft lips were on his.
The kiss was brief, but it sent Lance’s head spinning. Once their lips separated, they hovered close for a moment, taking in the lingering sensation before moving apart a few inches. The tingling on Lance’s lips was nothing compared to the lack of air in his lungs and the blood rushing in his head. He unconsciously brought his fingertips up to his mouth, thumbing at lips as his eyes focused on the pink of Keith’s bottom lip.
Moving his hand from his lip to Keith’s, Lance ran his finger along the edge of his lower lip, swirling the lip ring before swiping across again. He thumbed at the middle of his lip, before settling his hand on the side of Keith’s jaw and bring their mouths together again. This time, their kiss had more enthusiasm, nipping and pulling at each other’s lips. Hands found their way curled in the fabric of their shirts and fisted in hair at the nape of necks. There was a grazing of teeth and the swirling of wet tongues and swallowed moans.
With a breathy gasp, they separated, leaning their foreheads together, trying to regain their breath. Lance’s hands were still grasped on either side of Keith’s jaw, his right thumb gently touching Keith’s lip ring. Keith’s hands were fisted in Lance’s shirt, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin on his sides. Dragging his nose along side the length of Keith’s nose, Lance place a series of small kisses on his lips and chin, Keith could barely focus to return them.
“Sometime in September,” Lance whispered as he nuzzled against Keith’s skin.
“Hmm?” Keith hummed, unable to even open his eyes.
“I’ve wanted to do that since sometime in September,” Lance said softly. “What about you?”
“Since whenever I first sat across from you in the library,” Keith breathed, his eyes fluttering open as he looked up at Lance. “Since then.”
“I win,” Lance chuckled quietly. “I’ve wanted to longer.”
“Shut up,” Keith shook his head, biting a smile.
“Make me,” Lance whispered against his lips. Keith didn’t even bother responding before he slid their lips together again.