Work Text:
Lance would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited. Keith had invited him to Olive Garden for valentines day a week ago, his dumb mullet pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. Lance had stared at it. Keith had been sweating from practice. Lance had gulped when he shifted his weight and his exercise shirt rode up his hips. It was all a bit embarrassing when Lance recalled it but he had decided to mentally edit out his laughable actions.
His eyes surveyed the shirts hung in his closet. He had been staring into the small area for close to an hour and as his small alarm clock ticked away menacingly on his nightstand he grew frustrated. He needed help, and he knew just who to ask. His feet slid on the carpet as he jutted out of his room.
“MARIAAAAA!” He yelled, opening her door with a jerk. Her room was literally five feet down the hall from his but time was of the essence! Throwing his hands up in exasperation he slumped against her computer chair. She eyed him wearily.
“Keith is picking me up at 5 and I’ve been trying to decide what to wear for like an hour and I need helppp.” He whined. Maria sighed and stood up suddenly, knocking Lance onto the floor. Beaming down at him she said.
“Okay. I’ll help you, but you owe me you little lovestruck turd.” Lance jumped to his feet and dragged Maria through the hallway to his room.
His sister was a good bit older than him, and was studying fashion at their local community college. Lance would never admit it to her but he looked up to her a lot. She had always been there for him and he knew he could trust her when he had a problem, even if he had to take her chores for a week.
Sitting on his bed as Maria threw shirts onto the floor Lance could feel his nerves bubbling up. He and Keith had been dating for several months, and they had only kissed once. His thoughts were all over the place and he wondered if Keith would kiss him again tonight. He hoped so.
“Perfect!” Maria exclaimed as she rushed over to Lance and ordered him to start stripping.
______________
Lance had just finished doing his hair when the doorbell rang. He rushed out of the bathroom in the hopes that one of his younger siblings wouldn’t beat him to the door but he was not so lucky. He watched in horror as young and impressionable Ria opened the door with her tiny hands.
Lance was taken aback when he saw Keith, fixing his sleeve where it was rolled up to his elbows. He was dressed casually, but it was more formal than what he usually wore. Lance licked his lips.
“Lance! The mullet bastard is here!” Ria called out. Lance’s mouth fell open.
“Ria! Where did you learn to say that?” He quickly moved to usher her away from the door in case she started spewing something worse. He smiled sheepishly at Keith, who looked almost as shocked as Lance felt.
“Keith! Hi! Sorry about that, I don’t know who taught her that.” He furrowed his brows at the young girl, who was frowning up at Keith. She stuck her tongue out. Lance blanched.
“Go eat your nasty in-tail-end food you damn mullet bastard. Get the hell out of my house.” She spat folding her arms as she strutted away. Keith and Lance watched her leave, then exchanged a look. Keith was the first to start laughing, his hands holding his stomach as he doubled over. Lance’s anxiety disappeared and he laughed as well, feeling tears well in his eyes as he sucked in air.
“Lance I didn’t know your sister had such a colorful vocabulary.” He managed, trying to calm down from the laugh attack. He looked happy.
“Me either, it’s kind of worrying.” His tone said he wasn’t worried. Lance stepped outside and closed the door, noting the way Keith looked him over. His cheeks burned as he stepped into Keith’s space.
“Ready to go, Loverboy?” Lance smirked as he took Keith’s hand in his. Keith nodded and escorted Lance to his truck.
At the restaurant Lance felt his earlier nerves creeping back into him. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt under the table. Neither of them were really saying much as they looked at the menu. Lance could barely focus on the choices, his eyes drifting to Keith constantly. The waitress came back. Lance panicked.
“Are you boys ready to order?” She said with a smile. Keith returned it, glancing back down at his menu as he told her what he wanted. She turned to Lance. Uh oh.
“And for you?” She was nice, and if he weren’t full of butterflies he would put on the charm. He looked at the menu and said the first thing he saw. Which was spaghetti. She nodded and excused herself. Lance was dead inside. Nobody orders fucking spaghetti when they’re on a date what the fuck. Lance smiled nervously at Keith, who seemed to not think much of the meal choice. Damnit Lance.
He just knew he was going to make a giant fool of himself while trying to eat those slippery noodles. Keith placed his hand over Lance’s and Lance looked up.
“You look a little pale, are you okay?” Keith’s eyebrows were drawn together. He was concerned. Lance was panicking about eating spaghetti and Keith thought there might be something wrong. Lance nodded and held Keith’s hand. They eventually eased into a conversation about how to pronounce the word ‘phlebotomist’.
When their food arrived Lance had all but forgotten his poor meal choice. He glared at the pasta, but his face fell into a frown instead as he realised he only had one meatball. Keith was staring at the meatball as well, his confusion evident in his raised eyebrow. The waitress had walked away after placing Keith’s food. Lance gingerly touched the ball with his fork, looking disdainfully at all the noodles under it.
He hated it, sitting there, looking like a pasta mountain.
He cut the meatball in half, and then into fourths. He thought distantly that it looked like the dead bird their dog had threw up on the carpet yesterday. He also thought that was a bad thing to compare his meal to.
Keith had tucked into his own pasta, but his eyes kept going back to the meatball, sitting there on Lances plate, dissected into pieces. He offered to share his food with Lance. Lance laughed and said it was okay, shoving a forkful of plain pasta into his mouth. Keith cringed as Lance chewed.
Lance had eaten plain pasta before, he lived with lots of siblings and sometimes the younger ones wanted to make a meal for everybody. One thing Lance had learned was that kids didn’t know stuff should go on pasta. He ate several more bites of pasta and just as he swallowed the waitress came back around.
“How are things going? Do you need anything?” Her smile was pretty. Keith looked like he was about to say something but Lance cut in.
“Everything is great! But, can I get some extra noodles please?” He said, false cheeriness in his voice. Keith looked like he was about to die right there. The waitress glanced at his plate, full of noodles and little bits of meat, and smiled.
“Of course! I’ll be right back.” She said as she wandered back to the kitchen. Lance shoved another fork of pasta into his mouth.
“Lance what the fuck? You have too many noodles!” Keith whispered across the table. Lance was about to respond when the waitress appeared again.
“Here you go! Let me know if you need anything else.” She smiled as she sat the plate down, then walked away again. Now Lance was no chef, and he certainly didn’t know what the establishments rules were regarding extras, but he was pretty sure three noodles wasn’t considered extra? Keith was outright laughing at this point, confusion abandoned as he stared at the noodles lying limp against the plate. They were just there, sticking helplessly to the surface. Lance decided it looked like she had grabbed a plate from the wash pile that had a few noodles on it and brought it out. He couldn’t take his eyes off the noodles. Why was this a thing that was happening right now? What kind of Olive Garden was this?
Keith had apparently lost it, because he was splayed across the table, shoulders shaking as he laughed at the noodles. Those poor, cold, lonely noodles. Lance waved the waitress down and asked for the bill.
When it was all said and done and they were seated comfortably in Keith’s truck Lance completely lost it. He hadn’t laughed that hard in ages and Keith had broken out again at the sound of Lance snorting.
“Why were there only three?” Lance gasped out smacking Keith’s arm as he clutched his stomach. Keith sounded similar to a Hyena at the moment, but he managed to choke out the word ‘meatball’ and they both lost it again.
They were interrupted but the sound of Lance’s phone ringing. He picked it up and Keith caught several words, it was his mom. It sounded like she was asking how it was going. After several minutes Lance hung up and smiled at Keith.
“You wanna get frozen yogurt?” He asked. Keith nodded. They fell into easy chatter.
After ordering a birthday cake flavored frozen yogurt and moving to sit on the tail of Keith’s truck Lance felt himself relax. This was good. They talked about the projects they were working on, and how the end of the year was approaching, and Lance felt at home.
He smiled at Keith and moved into the touch as Keith ran his thumb along Lance’s jaw. Their lips definitely met but it was soft and sweet and Lance felt like it was the most natural thing in the world as a feeling of fondness filled him.
“FUCK I DROPPED THE YOGURT!” Keith yelled.
Fondness.