“We did it. We are a good team.”

“I gotta go.” 

“Lance, no.”

“Lance, yes. Dude, I’m literally about to piss myself.” 

“Then fucking do it! At least you’re not turning your fucking insides to outsides right now!” Pidge interrupts the two from the bathroom, still glued to the toilet. 

Lance bites his lip and presses his hands on his crotch, doing his peepee dance while staring desperately at Hunk. You see, Lance had eaten one of his roommate’s leftovers a few days prior, and when he went to his parent’s house earlier in the day, his mom had been insistent that he took the flan she made him, telling him to make sure to share with his roommates and to not eat it all. Turns out she didn’t have to worry about him eating it all, since Pidge had eaten the entire thing while he was at work out of spite for eating her food. The problem now though? Pidge is lactose-intolerant, and the main ingredients to flan are sweetened condensed milk and evaporated milk. Safe to say she had been in the bathroom fighting for her life for the past hour after Lance had returned from work. 

“Well, how much longer are you gonna be in there cause I think I might explode if I don’t piss, like, right now.” Hunk sighs and rubs his eyes, most likely tired of his shenanigans for the night. 

“Dude, I already told you. Just go pee in a bottle.” Lance, just like he did earlier, makes a face. 

“No way! That’s gross!”

“It’s not any grosser than peeing in a toilet!” 

“Yes, it is!”

“How?” Hunk asks exasperated. 

“Because it’s undignified and demeaning! I am a gentleman, Hunk!”

“Then be a gentleman who uses a bottle!” 

“No!”

“Would you two stop squabbling and give me some space to shit in peace?” Pidge hollers, anger and annoyance clearly laced in her tone. The two men go quiet at that and quickly scurry away from the bathroom door, going into the living room. Lance never stops his potty dance the entire way. 

“That’s it. I’m going over to a neighbor’s and begging them for mercy!” Lance decides, already dancing to the door. 

“C’mon, Lance. Just pee in the sink! I’m pretty sure you did that when we were freshman once,” Hunk offers, following after Lance with a sigh. He almost runs into Lance though when the Cuban suddenly screeches to a halt and spins around to face Hunk. 

“How dare you? I did no such thing!” Lance cries, gaping at his supposed best friend. 

“You did! We were at that frat party that was hosted for all the newbies at uni and you got so drunk that you pissed right in the sink.” Lance squawks and removes his hands from his crotch to smack at Hunk’s arm repeatedly. 

“No, I didn’t! Stop putting lies on my good name!” 

“I’m not!” 

“You are!”

“Am not!” 

“Are too!”

“Lance, don’t go over to the neighbors. We don’t know them. What if they’re cannibals?” Hunk rushes out when Lance starts heading for the door again. 

“Then they’ll be the nicest cannibals I ever met!” Lance declares just before slamming the door shut behind him. Lance scurries down his driveway before turning left on the sidewalk, marching right up to his neighbor’s house and placing a succession of three knocks onto the oak. Lance goes back to his potty dance while he waits for them to answer. Lance leans back a bit to double-check the driveway, finding a motorcycle parked there. C’mon, someone has to be home. 

Just as he goes to knock again, the door swings open to reveal a god. Or, well, he might as well be. For one, the dude is smoking hot and for two, he’s about to let him use his bathroom. “Hallelujah,” Lance praises, grinning at his savior, “Hey, man. I-”

“No, I don’t want any boy scout cookies, nor do I want to hear about your lord and savior, nor do I need car insurance,” the man states bluntly before slamming the door in his face. Lance’s jaw drops, stunned for a moment in disbelief that this guy could be so rude. He huffs and raises his hand to pound on the door now. The door opens a few seconds later to reveal the (very) attractive, but rude, man. “Listen, I just said-”

“No, you listen! I was just trying to use your bathroom and you just so rudely-”

“Why are you trying to use my bathroom?” he interrupts, his black brows furrowed in confusion and, god, why is that so cute? 

“What?” is Lance’s immediate response from being so suddenly cut off. After a second or two of processing what was just said to him, Lance scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Uh, because I have to piss? Why the fuck else would I want to use your bathroom?” Lance sassily replies. 

The stranger scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest now, mirroring Lance, in which Lance definitely doesn’t stare at the dude’s chest through his tight, black shirt that has been chiseled by God himself. “Well why, the fuck, would I let you use my bathroom with that sort of attitude?” Keith replies, copying Lance’s use of foul language. Something tells Lance that he always talks like this though, unlike himself. Before he can reply though, he feels a sharp pain in his lower abdomen, reminding him of his crisis. 

“Ow-wow! Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Just, please, oh god man, please let me use your bathroom! I’ll do anything!” Lance cries, feeling close to actual tears. He’s never had to pee so bad before in his entire life. The handsome stranger hums and looks him up and down, completely emotionless other than the sly smirk that’s starting to creep on his face at the sight of Lance’s peepee dance. 

“Alright, fine. You owe me though,” he decides before stepping aside, letting the brunette inside his home. 

“Oh thank god. Thank you! I could kiss you right now!” Lance cheers, his mind not catching that loose-lipped moment of his since it’s too preoccupied setting off alarms in his head that he’s about to piss himself like a baby. His very sexy neighbor says nothing, but his smirk gets bigger as he shuts the door behind Lance. 

“Go down the hall. It’s the first door on the left,” Keith says as he points towards the hallway. Lance barely gets out a ‘thank you’ before he’s taking off in said direction. He whips the door shut with a little too much force before hurrying to the toilet. He lets out the loudest groan known to mankind as he drops his head back, relief filling his entire body. 

After finishing up and washing his hands, he exits the bathroom with a relaxed smile. He could take on the world right now if he wanted to, that’s how good he feels. Now that he isn’t about to wet himself, he actually lets his eyes take in his surroundings. 

There’s a well-used skateboard by the door he came in through, stickers of bands and shows he’s never heard of covering the underside of it. By the door is a small table that has keys and other miscellaneous things all over it, including an empty flower vase. Just as his eyes find a family photo in the hall he’s exiting, someone clears their throat. 

He turns his gaze to his savior, an embarrassed smile coming to his face as he rubs the back of his neck. “Hey, sorry about...well, all of that. Our house is one story and only has one bathroom. My roommate was, and probably still is, currently blowing it up, so I figured I’d come ask to use yours,” Lance explains sheepishly, avoiding the attractive man’s eyes. 

“Ah, that makes more sense, though you should’ve just gone outside, but whatever. I was just hoping you weren’t flushing drugs down my toilet.” Lance laughs at that, surprised by his neighbor’s odd train of thoughts. Then again, he’s not exactly sure how he’d react if some weirdo came knocking at his door and begging to use his bathroom. 

“I refuse to pee outside. But nah, don’t worry. All my cocaine is at home,” Lance jokes, finally turning to face him now. He’s surprised to find him with wide eyes and even taking a step back away from the Cuban. “Dude, I’m kidding! Jesus, do you have no sense of humor?” Lance laughs. He scoffs in response, his arms crossing back over his chest as they had done earlier. 

“I do have one. I can’t help it that you only tell shitty jokes,” he hisses, way too defensive for Lance not to laugh at him. 

“Listen, Mullet-”

“That’s not my name.”

“Okay, Emo Tea. What is it then?” Lance asks with a roll of his eyes, placing his hand onto his hip while waving his other hand forward to show Keith he’s waiting for him to fill in the blank. Keith seems to hesitate, eyeing Lance up and down just like he had done earlier for a moment before finally replying. 

“Emo what?”

“Just answer the question, Mullet Man.” Keith huffs at all the nicknames he’s coming up with for him.

“Keith,” he states plainly. 

“Keith,” Lance repeats back to him, trying the name out on his tongue. And though they had just met, Keith can’t help but like the way this odd stranger says his name with that accent of his. “The name’s Lance, though I go by many nicknames. Sharpshooter, The Tailor, and, of course, Lancey Lance,” Lance says confidently, offering a hand that Keith takes cautiously, rolling his eyes at the man in front of him.

“Dare I ask why they call you ‘Sharpshooter’ and ‘The Tailor’?” Keith asks with a sigh. 

“I’m glad you asked! I got the nickname Sharpshooter from my killer aim. Trust me, you want to be on my team if we go play laser tag or paintball. I’m also super good at those carnival games where you shoot water into the target to fill up the gauge or shooting bottles, cans, or whatever else. Basically, I’m a god at winning prizes,” he rambles. Keith doesn’t look even remotely impressed, doesn’t even let out a chuckle, which makes Lance deflate a little. He probably sounds like a cocky bastard. 

“Uh-huh. And ‘The Tailor’?” Lance smirks at this question, jumping right back in with his normal gusto. 

“They called me The Tailor because of how I thread the needle,” Lance replies with a wink, waiting for Keith to blush or to laugh. He gets neither. 

Instead, Keith tilts his head to the side—which makes his bangs sweep into his eyes, not that Lance noticed and wanted to tuck them away behind his ear or anything, what are you talking about—and looks at Lance like he’s grown a second head. He stays like this for a long moment before shaking his head and righting himself again. “Never mind, forget I asked,” he says with a sigh. Lance doesn’t know how to reply for a moment and then they’re standing there in silence that stretches on for a little too long. As he racks his brain for what to say, he suddenly remembers that Keith said that Lance owes him. Ah, right. 

“So, what do I owe ya? A nice massage? A friendly ear to listen to your problems? A blo-”

“Can you cook?” Keith interrupts, raising his brow at Lance. Lance is surprised by the sudden question, his face showing as much, before suddenly grinning at Keith. 

“Why, you’re looking at the best cook in Cuba!” he exaggerates, already sauntering over towards the kitchen. He hears Keith’s footsteps follow behind him, and Keith lets out a sound of doubt at Lance’s overzealous nature but doesn’t comment on it. 

“Well, I don’t have much to cook at the moment. I’ve been working a lot recently, so I haven’t really had time to go to the store,” Keith explains, sounding almost uncharacteristically sheepish all of sudden (well, in all the time that Lance has spoken to him). Lance pauses in front of the fridge to glance back over at Keith, flashing him a reassuring smile. 

“That’s okay. We can go get stuff if you want,” Lance offers, turning away from the fridge. 

“As nice as it sounds to be in your company even longer, I actually have to go to work,” Keith explains with a sigh, leaning against his counter. And, for some reason, Lance feels his face flush in embarrassment, though he definitely didn’t have any reason to be as embarrassed as he was. 

“Oh! Yeah, totally, of course! Sorry. Jeez, here I am inviting myself into your house and overstepping my welcome. Uh, I’ll just go ahead and leave now. Um, I’m the blue house to your right, by the way. I guess, uh, I’ll see you later?” Lance practically stammers out, barely getting the confirmation that he will indeed be seeing more of Keith later before he’s rushing out the door to make his exit and back to his house. 

What Lance thought was one meal has turned into several meals, sixteen meals to be exact. Keith asked if Lance could cook because his way of getting Lance to pay off his debt is by having the Cuban make dinner for him until he deems that Lance’s debt is paid off. Every time Lance comes over to cook, Keith is always by himself in the big house. He starts to wonder if maybe he just has a good enough job to where he can live like this without worry, or if maybe he has roommates that are never home. They could just be always locked up in their rooms and that’s why he’s never seen them? If that’s the case, then they’re probably just as rude and sour as Keith, and they get along splendidly. Lance had the thought that Keith might be one of those rich kids that get money from their parents, but the longer he’s gotten to know the dark-haired man, he finds that his personality instead screams ‘bad boy with mommy issues.’ 

So, after knowing each other for almost two months, the enemies are finally becoming lovers (“You’re not enemies, Lance.” “Shut up and let me dream, you gremlin.”). They haven’t really spent time together outside of making meals and hanging out a bit after, but Lance would say that he’s getting Keith to open up more about himself which is progress! Lance now also has his number, and Lance, if anything, is great at coming up with excuses to talk to Keith (‘So since you don’t like spicy food what food do you like??’ ‘Do you like sweets?? I could bake us a cake or smth’ ‘What kind of foods did you grow up eating??’).

Lance smiles to himself as he thinks about Keith while running his towel through his hair before wrapping it around his waist. He then walks out of the bathroom and to his bedroom, feeling the cool air of their house soothe his heated skin. Of course Lance’s train of thoughts ended up going to Keith while he was in the shower. He’s just thankful it didn’t go in that direction. 

Lance hums a song to himself as he walks around his room getting his clothes out for the day. Today was his one day off and he wasn’t swamped with homework, so he had quite the lazy day. He wanted to ask Keith to hang out since neither of his roommates were home, but Lance was worried that they weren’t quite there yet. 

Unbeknownst to Lance, he left his curtains open a bit, not enough for someone from the street or their yard to look in and see him, but just enough for Keith–whose window just so happened to be right across from Lance’s–to look in and see the half-naked man. Keith was sitting on his bed–which just so happened to face the window–and sharpening his knife when he glanced up to see what the movement was from the corner of his eye. This wasn’t the first time it had turned out to be Lance, but it was the first time that it had been a glistening, half-naked Lance. 

Keith was frozen in place. 

What is the proper etiquette for a situation like this? Obviously not what Keith is doing, seeing as how he’s just staring Lance down and shamelessly ogling him. Keith wasn’t close enough to see the details of Lance’s body, but he was close enough that he could see the water droplets glisten in the sunlight and see the scar stretching across the middle of Lance’s back. 

 For some reason, Keith didn’t expect Lance to casually glance in the direction of his window as he’s about to remove his towel just to find grey eyes meeting his. Keith can’t hear it, but he can tell by the way Lance’s mouth rounded and the way his chest jumps that he gasped dramatically. Lance also, of course, dramatically threw his arm out in Keith’s direction to point at him. 

Keith flushes red and quickly looks away, only now realizing just how creepy and wrong it was for him to have been watching Lance like that. The taller man practically jumps out of his skin when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He quickly takes it out when the vibrating affects his–uh, situation. 

He tenses up when he sees Lance’s familiar name (“Personal Chef”) take up his screen. He glances at the window to find Lance right in front of his own window, one hand holding his phone to his ear as he expectantly waits for Keith to answer his while his other hand is placed on his hip in a sassy manner. 

Keith sighs as he pushes the green button and places his phone to his ear. Before he can even mutter out a ‘hello,’ Lance is speaking. “So, have you always been a Peeping Tom or is that just a new hobby you picked up recently because of me?” Lance asks. Keith would’ve thought he was being serious if he hadn’t had seen the smirk staring right back at him. Keith scoffs as he stands up, walking towards his window to get closer. 

“I’m not a Peeping Tom,” he snaps defensively. Lance’s eyes flicker down and Keith is embarrassed to realize that he’s hard and he’s now showcasing that. To his surprise though, that wasn’t what Lance was looking at.  

“Is that a fucking knife?” Keith looks down to see that, yes, he still had his knife in his hand. God, Lance is going to think he’s such a weirdo. “You know what, you’re right. You’re not a Peeping Tom. You’re a psychopath.”

“I feel like I’d be more of a sociopath than a psychopath,” Keith corrects despite the fact that he’s neither. Lance’s jaw drops at him at his reply, making Keith laugh at his surprise. “Dude, I’m joking. Calm down.”

“That’s what all psyc–sociopaths would say!” Lance argues, pointing his finger at him again. Keith rolls his eyes as he chuckles, leaning against the windowsill as he goes back to shamelessly eyeing Lance’s torso. “Dude, you’re hard.” 

“What?” Keith asks, acting as if he didn’t hear him perfectly clear and wasn’t currently trying to adjust his pants to hide the fact. 

“Too late to hide it now, Mullet. You’ve been caught redhanded,” Lance teases, making Keith huff and glare. “So, do you always go around holding knives while staring at guys get dressed, or am I special?” Keith tries not to smile, but Lance is just so ridiculous that he finds himself smiling despite himself. 

“You’re special,” Keith humors him. Lance coos as he places his hand over his heart, acting like he’s touched. 

“Awe, that’s so romantic. Go on. Tell me about how you’ve fantasized about butchering me into pieces and gutting me like a fish while jerking off.”

“Dude,” Keith grunts, making a face of disgust at imagining such a thing. Lance laughs at his furrowed brows as he brings his arm up to rest on the wall beside his window, making the lean muscles beneath his skin roll. Keith’s breath might’ve hitched a bit, but who’s to say. 

“Not your thing? That’s cool. I can do whatever you want, baby,” Lance half-jokes, giving Keith a sultry look. And though he was only kidding when he said it, once the words were out there, he remembered that Keith was in fact hard right now. Or at least he was. 

Lance’s eyes flicker down to confirm and, yup, still there. Either Keith is one weird dude who actually has a thing for knives (spoiler alert: he does), or he’s just super into Lance (spoiler number two: it’s also that). “Whatever I want, huh?” Keith asks, smirking back at the Cuban man, and Lance swears that he can practically feel the butterflies starting to erupt in his belly. 

Oh yeah, Keith could tell him to wear a collar and sleep in a dog cage, and Lance would respond with ‘woof’ before being his little bitch. Lance bites his lip at the idea of being Keith’s bitch. Not necessarily in the way he just thought of, but just in general. “Yeah,” Lance breathes more than says. Keith hums as he eyes Lance’s form before slowly backing up and sitting down on his bed again. 

“Put on a show for me then,” Keith says casually as if they’re discussing the weather or what they had for breakfast. Lance can’t say he didn’t see that one coming, but he chokes up a little anyway. 

“What? Right here? With my window open?” Lance whispers despite the fact that he’s home alone and the only person who can see or hear him is Keith. He can’t lie, he likes the idea of someone watching him, especially if that someone is Keith. Keith’s smirk grows as he leans his free hand back onto the bed. 

“Yup,” he replies, making the word pop. Lance gulps and shifts his eyes all around outside before meeting Keith’s gaze again. He takes a deep breath as he trails his free hand down his neck and chest before stopping at the top of his towel that’s hanging on for its life right now. 

He grips the blue towel but stops himself from removing it, suddenly getting an idea. “Take off your shirt first,” he bargains, biting his lip as he waits for the older man to do so. Keith lets out a short laugh through his nose before dropping his phone onto his bed, along with his knife, before tugging the material over his head. After it’s off and on the floor, he picks his phone back up and then places his knife somewhere safe. 

“Alright, your turn,” Keith says lowly into his phone’s receiver. Lance almost whimpers at how deep his voice is getting but manages to swallow it down. Lance shakily undoes the little knot sitting at the front of his waist, taking a deep breath before letting the blue cloth drop to his wooden floorboards. Well, Lance’s cards are all on the table; this is what he has to offer. Lance knows he isn’t super big or anything, but he has some length and girth to him, okay? So, if Keith’s going to back out, he better do it now. 

To Lance’s surprise, and joy, Keith actually groans and then brings his hand to the tent in his sweatpants. Lance bites his lip as he watches Keith touch himself. Fuck, he’s only half-hard right now but if Keith keeps that shit up, he’ll be fully hard in no time. “Touch yourself for me, baby,” Lance hears Keith’s voice coo in his ear, making chills run down Lance’s spine. Mm yeah, Lance could get used to hearing his voice like that, especially if it’s saying stuff like that. 

“Take your pants off,” Lance whines, wrapping his long, slender fingers around himself but not doing anything with them yet. Keith hums in acknowledgment before standing up to do just that, kicking the black sweats off and leaving him naked. Ah, so he was going commando. Keith’s dick was something else entirely. He didn’t have too much length to him either, but his girth was a little insane. Lance can’t help but to imagine Keith inside of him, moaning right behind him in his ear instead of through the phone like he is now. 

With both of them naked now, they both start pumping their bare cocks. Keith tilts his head forward and spits on his shaft, letting his saliva stretch down from his mouth and break off when it’s halfway to its destination. Lance watches entranced for a moment, and he doesn’t know why, but the little show that Keith displays for him causes his dick to twitch in his hand. He quickly follows his lead and spits onto the head despite the fact that he has lube ten feet away from him. This is a lot raunchier though, and Lance is finding that he likes how risque they’re being. In short, it’s hot as fuck. 

“God, look at you. I wish I was over there with you right now,” Keith starts talking, his voice even lower than before and now breathier since he’s panting. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself though,” Keith mumbles, tilting his head back and showing off his pale neck to Lance. It should be illegal that Lance isn’t currently covering the delicate skin of his neck–or everywhere, really–with purple and red right now, maybe even some teeth marks. 

“Yeah? Just what would you do to me, baby?” Lance asks in a breathy tone, doing his best to sound sultry. Apparently it works, if Keith’s hiss and quickening hand is anything to go by. 

“Oh ho, if I was in that room with you, I’d have you bent over by now. You’d be begging for me to touch you, to hurry, to fill you up with my fat cock,” Keith pants out, slowing his hand down to make him last longer. Lance whimpers and moans throughout his entire spiel and even as he adds on more. “I’d take my sweet time stretching that tight hole of yours too. I just know you’d be an impatient brat about it too. I’d bring tears to those pretty eyes and make you beg nice and loud for it before finally giving it to you.” Lance moans loudly when he says ‘nice and loud,’ unashamed about the noises he’s making at Keith’s dirty talk. 

“I think I’d overstimulate you, get you back for all those times you paraded around in short-shorts, came over to ask for sugar knowing good and well you just went grocery shopping, every time you’d leave your window open when you were having a one night stand-”

“You heard those?” Lance gasps, bringing his hand to a stop. He’s already flushed but now his face is burning from embarrassment. 

“Oh yeah, I was here every time you brought a girl over. You’d always make them moan and scream your name, and yet, I never heard you moan like you are for me right now.” Lance whimpers and immediately lets his hand continue pumping himself. He’s mortified that Keith has witnessed such moments in his life, but he’s also thriving. He’d have to ask him about that later when they weren’t in the middle of trying to cum. 

“No one’s made me feel as good as you do, Keith. Always wished it was you making me cum,” Lance admits through a choked moan, tilting his head back and using his shoulder to hold his phone to his ear so that his now free hand can tweak his nipple. 

“Don’t worry, baby. This is only just the beginning. I’ll make you cum harder than you ever have before. All you gotta do is give me a chance,” Keith promises, his hand sliding along his cock faster and faster. God, he was so close. He just needed one more thing to push him over the edge. 

“I’ll give you as many chances as you want,” Lance promises right back. Keith groans and closes his eyes, imagining his hands running down that tanned, lithe body and using it as he pleases. Keith curses as his orgasm rips through him, his hand and floor getting covered in his seed. He opens his eyes again when Lance lets out these cute gasps, his body jerking as he cums shortly after. 

They both pant as they enjoy their high, staring at each other through the glass and listening to their breathing slowly even out over the phone. “Great. Now I’ll have to take another shower,” Lance groans, pretending to be annoyed but the smile he’s wearing gives him away. 

Lance isn’t surprised when his phone vibrates, and sure enough, when he checks it, it’s a message from Keith. A small smile forms on his face as he sets his pencil down to reply to Keith. They hadn’t really talked since the whole I caught you staring at me through my window and then we masturbated together over the phone thing.

“Lance, no,” Pidge suddenly chimes. 

“Lance, yes,” Lance replies, his grin getting bigger as he hastily starts putting his studying equipment away. 

“Lance, c’mon! You’ve already canceled during three study sessions to go hang out with loverboy!” Hunk whines, watching Lance haphazardly shove papers into his bag, which he knows will become wrinkled. 

“Sorry, guys! A possible dick appointment always comes first!” Pidge huffs and sets down her pen, leaning back in her chair to look up at Lance with a bored look. 

“As if Keith would give his dick to you of all people.” Lance scoffs at what she’s implying. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lance asks incredulously as he tosses his bag to the corner of the room, placing his hands on his waist. Pidge sighs and uses her thumb and pointer finger to rub at her eyes. 

“It means that you two are polar opposites. From what you’ve told me, all you two do is butt heads and eat.” Lance huffs and moves to the door to slide his shoes on as he speaks. Yeah, he hasn’t told either of them about the whole window thing. He wants to, but it’s kind of embarrassing. Not that he’s ever really cared about embarrassing himself in front of his friends, he does it all the time. He really just doesn’t want to tell them about it because he’s afraid they’ll judge Keith for watching him. It was a very consensual thing and Lance definitely would’ve done the same thing if he were in his shoes, but he doesn’t think they’ll understand. 

“Pidge, haven’t you ever heard of enemies to lovers? Or, better yet, have you never heard of hate sex?” Lance asks with an impish grin. Hunk looks between the two helplessly as they continue to go back and forth. 

“Lance, do not start with your fanfiction crap. This is real life.” 

“You know, I bet if I piss him off enough, he’ll finally dick me down,” Lance says exaggeratedly, trying to gross out his short friend as he chooses to ignore her words. He shoots the scientific duo a wink with a slap to his ass before marching out the door. 

Pidge sighs and picks up her pen to get back to work, lightly shaking her head. “In those short shorts, he might just get his wish.”

Lance struts right on over to Keith’s house with his usual confidence. When he reaches his door though, he pulls out his phone to check his hair. After finding that it looks good, he pockets his phone and lays his usual three knocks on the door. Lance hears Keith’s feet rush to the door, a smirk coming to his face. He raises a brow though when the door doesn’t open. Is he checking the peephole or something? 

When the door finally opens, Lance’s usual smile finds its way to his face. “Why hello there, handsome. Your personal chef has arri-”

“What are you wearing?” Lance pouts at being cut off but looks down at his attire despite his annoyance. 

“Uh, clothes?” Lance guesses, looking back up to Keith to find his eyes trained downwards. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Keith snarks back at him, sarcastically rolling his eyes and moving to the side to let Lance inside. Lance swipes his pout away to replace it with his usual scowl, which he’s found he really only uses around Keith. God, this guy has a way of grating on his nerves. He’s just lucky he’s pretty or else Lance wouldn’t come anywhere near the guy. 

“Funny, because I remember a certain someone saying they like my short shorts,” Lance sasses as he pushes past Keith to walk inside his home. 

“I never said I like th-”

“So, what am I making you tonight?” Lance asks, swiftly changing the subject as he heads for the kitchen. 

“You know I don’t care,” Keith replies as he shuts the door behind him, heading towards the kitchen after Lance and taking a seat at the kitchen island. Lance chuckles as he opens up the fridge to look and see what there is. 

“C’mon, Mullet. You and I both know that’s not true.”

“I told you to stop calling me that, and how is that not true?”

Lance smirks and shuts the fridge to look in the freezer, sending Keith a look as he does so. “Well, I remember someone making a delicious fricasé de pollo and someone thought it was too spicy,” Lance replies, now heading over towards the cupboard. 

“Because it was, Lance. It’s chicken stew. It didn’t call for that much spice.” Lance rolls his eyes as he bends over a bit to get a good look inside of the cabinets. What Lance doesn’t know (but seriously hopes) is that Keith doesn’t hesitate to check out Lance’s ass that is threatening to pop out of those shorts. 

“Jeez, a guy adds a dash of cayenne pepper and suddenly it’s the end of the world.” 

“It was way more than a dash, Lance!”

“It wasn’t! You’re just weak!” 

“I am not weak!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I’m not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Fine. How about I make you some Camarones a la diabla?” Lance asks with a smirk, walking back over to the fridge. 

“Lance, I don’t even know what you just said, let alone-”

“Great! I’ll make that for you then!” Lance cheers, pulling out the shrimp that he saw in the fridge. He stops closing the fridge door though when he hears Keith suddenly speak up, sounding quite frantic. 

“No! We can’t eat those!” Lance turns fully to face him and raises a brow at him.

“Why not?” Keith bites his lip and starts to rub the back of his neck. 

“We just can’t, okay?” Lance huffs and sets all his weight onto one foot. 

“Did you buy these?” 

“Well, yes, bu-”

“Did you plan on eating them?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then I’m making them!”

“Lance!” Keith hisses, sighing when Lance tosses the shrimp onto a large skillet to start searing them. God, can he be any more infuriating? Keith sighs and runs his hands over his face before running them through his hair. 

“Relax, babe. Let me take care of you,” Lance purrs in a fake sultry voice. Keith shakes his head with a roll of his eyes, suddenly pushing himself to stand up and starts heading towards the staircase. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles. Lance looks at him over his shoulder and bites his lip as he looks down at the pan in front of him. Maybe he went too far this time. What’s so special about this shrimp? Why didn’t he want him to make it? 

After hearing the water cut on, Lance sighs and pulls out his phone to play some music to fill the silence in. The rhythmic beat echoing in the almost empty kitchen helps to lift his mood and distract him from his thoughts. Lance hums along with each song that plays, his hands continuing to cook dinner. As he finishes up the recipe and tosses a few more ingredients onto the shrimp and rice, one of his favorite songs comes on the random shuffle from his playlist. 

“Tener tus ojos debe ser ilegal, y mas si cuando miras solo inspiras a pecar. Esa sonrisa peculiar de jugar a tentar letal,” Lance begins to sing along, his body swaying with the music. When the chorus comes, he starts to swing his hips from side to side, his hand going left and right with the beat to sprinkle more spices over the shrimp. He starts to turn in a circle once the spices have left his fingers, his body taking over as it moves to the music. 

It’s when he does another turn that his eyes suddenly meet grey ones and his entire body is seizing up, dropping the spoon in shock. A chill runs down his spine as he stares into the half-lidded eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. “Keith?” Lance finally squeaks out before quickly clearing his throat and trying again, coming back to his senses. “Keith! Hey, buddy! My man! Uh, when did you get down here?” Lance asks, feigning a cool and casual tone despite the fact that his cheeks feel a little too warm and his stomach is definitely doing flips right now. 

“Long enough to watch you dance through the chorus. Where’d you learn how to dance like that?” Keith replies, his usual monotone, indifferent voice suddenly being replaced with something a little more mischievous, sensual. Lance gulps when Keith promptly starts to walk towards him, but Lance doesn’t see it as walking. He feels like the man is prowling towards him, like he’s the predator and Lance is nothing but his next meal. 

“I didn’t learn it. I just…the music speaks to me,” Lance mumbles sheepishly, unsurely. He starts to move backward when Keith enters the kitchen, matching Keith step for step. A light gasp escapes him when his back bumps into the counter, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He sucks his lip into his mouth when Keith suddenly places his hands on either side of him on the counter, his body being caged in by the taller man (only by three inches, okay? He measured). 

Keith’s only response is letting out a low hum, the vibrations of it going through his chest and reaching Lance’s. Keith licks his lips and Lance’s eyes trace the action, his heart starting to beat louder and louder in his ears when Keith starts inching his way towards Lance’s face. Just as Keith’s lips brush against Lance’s, the front door is swinging open with a bang. 

“Keith? Can you help me carry this stuff in?” Keith jerks away from Lance like he’s been shocked, both of their eyes going wide at the sudden intrusion. 

“Yeah!” Keith calls, clearing his throat and backing away from Lance. Keith runs a hand through his pitch-black hair as he walks around the corner to help whoever it is at the door. Does Keith have a boyfriend? Oh my god, do they live together? Lance tenses up at the idea, his eyes shifting this way and that as he debates on which direction he should run. Should he run? Before he can make up his mind, two bodies are entering the kitchen now. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had a…friend over,” the man with starkly white hair says, seeming to hesitate and struggle with the word ‘friend.’ Oh god, oh god. He’s onto me! I need to get outta here fast!

“Haha, oh yeah. I was just showing off my wicked cooking skills to my pal Keith here,” Lance replies, once again faking casualness, putting extra emphasis on the word ‘pal.’ “I actually just finished up though and I was just about to start heading ho-”

“Is that our shrimp?” the mystery man suddenly interrupts. Jeez, people sure love interrupting him. Lance tenses though when he realizes what he just asked. Oh my god, was that why Keith didn’t want him to make the shrimp? Because his boyfriend had plans to make him a romantic dinner or something? First Keith didn’t want him to make the shrimp and now his bigger, cooler, grizzled, older boyfriend is about to pummel his face in because of it. “Keith,” the man whines, turning to pout at the younger man. Lance isn’t sure if it’s because he’s terrified that he’s about to get his ass whooped or the fact that this man looks like he spent ten years in prison, but a pout and the puppy dog eyes don’t exactly work for him. 

“You promised you weren’t going to use it, you know I had special plans for the shrimp tonight. It was going to be a surprise,” the burly man mumbles, looking down at the floor. 

Keith knows he’s just yanking his chain, but Lance had no way of knowing that, hence why he says, “Oh man, I’m so sorry. Keith tried to warn me about it, but I didn’t listen. I thought he was just being a stingy grump.” Keith looks over at the tanned man with raised brows, surprised that Lance sounds so earnestly apologetic. Keith finds that he doesn’t like hearing the usually upbeat, bubbly tone being replaced with something so sad and guilty sounding. “Uh, I hope you enjoy it though. I’ll pay you back for the shrimp. Um, sorry again.” Lance gives them both an awkward smile before swiftly starting to speed walk towards the exit. God, he’s such an idiot. First, he goes after a taken man, and now he’s running out of said taken man’s house after ruining his boyfriend’s surprise for him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should’ve known better. A guy as good-looking as Keith couldn’t be single, he knows that. 

Oh my god, he masturbated with Keith, who is taken by a man who could destroy his entire bloodline with his pinky alone. He’s going to die, oh my god, his life is actually ending soon. 

“Great, look what you did. You scared him off. I told you you’re too scary for your own good,” Keith huffs, watching Lance’s retreating figure through the window. 

“I’m not scary. I just work out and happen to be 6’1”.”

“I don’t know how you even attracted Adam. He’s, like, half your size.”

“He’s 5’8”.”

“Exactly.” Shiro sighs and heads over the stove where the delicious smelling food is awaiting his growling stomach. 

“Who’s your friend?”

“His name is Lance. He’s our neighbor.” Shiro raises his brow at this information. 

“Really? Which house?”

“The blue one.”

“Oh. Well, we should thank him for the dinner. It was awfully kind of him. Though, I feel bad that we’re going to eat it without him. I’m sure this took a while to make,” Shiro says as he starts making himself a plate. Keith doesn’t bother to let his brother know that Lance has been doing this for him at least twice a week for about two months now. 

Keith remains silent as he makes his own plate, listening to Shiro moan in delight as he practically inhales his food. “Man, that kid is a genius in the kitchen. I’ll have to go over and thank him for this.”

“Don’t make it weird, Shiro.” 

Instead of replying to his words, Shiro grunts and points at the pan that Keith is currently scooping shrimp out of. “Hey, make sure to save some for him.” Keith stops his scooping to turn and raise a brow at his brother. 

“What? Why? It’s not like he’s going to be joining us,” Keith sasses, walking away from the partially filled pan anyway despite his words. 

“He put a lot of hard work into this, I can tell. He deserves to have some.” Keith sighs and takes a seat beside him, making sure his glass of milk and water are ready to go. He glances at Shiro to find him almost halfway done with his plate without even glancing at his glass of water. This just further convinces Keith that Shiro is actually an alien. 

“You can take it over to him then,” Keith grumbles, picking up his fork. He doesn’t have to be looking at Shiro to feel his brow arching up at him. 

“Why would I take food over to your friend?”

“Because you’re the one that’s oh so concerned about him.” 

“Look who’s making it weird now.”

They continue to go back and forth until they’re both done, in which Keith had to drain two full glasses of milk to get through. Shiro all but shoved him out the door with their leftovers—that technically aren’t leftovers since they saved it on purpose—neatly wrapped up in a bowl to carry over to Lance’s place. He mumbles curses to himself as he awkwardly shuffles over to Lance’s place.

He knocks on the door just like Lance does to his but gets interrupted by a child opening the door—er, not a child, just a very short person. He doesn’t even get to force out a ‘hello’ before she’s sighing. “You must be Keith.” His eyes widen with surprise, shocked that she knows who he is. 

“Uh, yeah. How’d you know?” he asks curiously, stepping into the house once she moves to the side. 

“The mullet gave you away.” One hand leaves the bowl he had been clutching to comb through his hair, his fingers meeting the long strands at his neck. He nibbles on his lip as he awkwardly stands by the door, unsure what to say. God, this was a terrible idea. He’s so bad at social interactions and meeting new people. Lance’s roommate smirks up at him as she closes the door, starting to head for the hallway. “Feel free to take a seat. I’ll go get him.” 

Keith slowly moves to the couch and moves even slower when he sits down. He sits tensely on his cushion, his brain running a hundred miles a second trying to plan what to say, what to do, how to act. He turns his head when there’s a loud thump that comes from the hallway, his eyes widening when Lance suddenly appears looking disheveled. “Keith! Oh my god, Keith!” Lance screeches, his eyes shifting all around his house. Keith didn’t realize this, but Lance was looking at the trash and all the other shit that was littered around the house. Oh my god. Keith is going to think we are slobs. 

“What are you doing here?” Lance all but screeches, pointedly ignoring Pidge’s snickers from her room. 

“I brought you some leftovers. I know you worked hard on it, so I figured you’d want to have some,” Keith says softly, stealing Shiro’s words right from his mouth. He then holds out the bowl towards him, feeling awkward under Lance’s gaze. Lance stares at him bug-eyed for a minute before snorting and taking the bowl from him. 

“You did not, you fat liar,” Lance laughs, swiveling around to walk towards his kitchen to warm up his food. Keith scoffs with indignation and follows after him, hot on his heel. 

“How am I a liar? You saying that you didn’t work hard on it?” Keith argues, watching Lance put his bowl into the microwave. 

“No, I know I did a fantastic job on this. I’m saying you’re a liar because I know you didn’t think that. You probably just couldn’t finish it or felt guilty,” Lance replies, leaning back against the counter with a smirk. Keith huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Oh yeah? And how do you know? You weren’t there since you booked it out of there so suddenly.” Lance already had his quip on the tip of his tongue, but it suddenly died when he actually processed Keith’s words. Right. He left because Keith’s boyfriend showed up. He’s surprised that his boyfriend even let him bring it over here.

Lance realizes he’s been quiet for a little too long now and his cheeks fill with warmth. “Well, thanks for bringing it by. I’ll be sure to return your bowl,” Lance says as he spins around to face the microwave that’s about to go off. When he gets no reply and doesn’t hear footsteps retreating, he looks over his shoulder to find Keith giving him a weird look. “What?” he asks, wondering why Keith didn’t take that as his cue to leave. 

They stand in another pregnant silence just staring at each other, Keith seems to try and find the right words. Before he could though, Lance snaps his fingers and lets out a shaky laugh. “Oh, right! You must be waiting for the payment I owe ya! Let me go get my wallet!” Lance rushes out, walking away from the microwave just as it starts beeping. 

“Lance, stop,” Keith commands as he takes ahold of Lance’s arm to stop him. To his surprise, Lance actually stops to look at him. 

“What? Don’t y-”

“Stop it. Why are you acting like this?” Keith demands, his face twisting up in anger. 

“Acting like what?” Lance snaps, jerking his arm out of his hold. 

“Like this! Like you aren’t my friend!” 

“Your friend? Sorry but we’re not friends. Friends don’t use one another as a personal chef and only talk to them when they’re hungry. Friends don’t lie and let their friends flirt with them while they’re taken, and friends especially don’t jack off together when they’re taken,” Lance snaps. Keith looks hurt at first, like he’s been slapped, but then his features morph into those of confusion. 

“Woah, wait. Flirting? You were flirting with me?” Keith asks, shocked. Lance feels as shocked as Keith looks. 

“Um, yeah. Why else would I let you treat me like a slave and wear short shorts every time I come over to your house?” Lance replies with disbelief. 

“I never treated you like a slave. You could’ve told me no. Besides, I let you eat half of what you made!” 

“I couldn’t have said no though! I owed you and I used it as an excuse to see you!” 

Instead of verbally replying to Lance, Keith smashes his lips against Lance’s. It’s messy, full of spit and teeth, but, god, if it didn’t spark something alive deep down inside of Lance. Lance instantly moans and wraps his arms around Keith’s neck, bringing their bodies closer together. When Keith bites on Lance’s lower lip, the pleasurable pain sends a shock to Lance’s brain. He gasps and shoves at Keith’s chest, putting some distance between their bodies. 

“Hey! Woah! You can’t kiss me!” Lance shrieks with a red-hot face, one hand pointing at Keith and the other hiding his mouth. 

“What? Why not?” Keith asks, already stepping closer to Lance with clouded eyes. 

“What do you mean ‘why?’ You’re taken! Your boyfriend is right next door and would so beat my ass if he found out, and I don’t know about you, but I like my ass!” Despite Lance’s horror and fear, Keith starts to laugh loudly. Lance is so shocked that he drops his arms and just gapes like a fish at the man. It’s official. Keith has finally lost his mind. 

“So do I,” Keith teases. Lance just crosses his arms back over his chest and glares at Keith, trying to show him he’s serious despite the blush radiating off of his face right now. Seeing this, Keith huffs and rolls his eyes a bit. “He’s not my boyfriend, Lance.” Lance scoffs at the lie. 

“Right. Sure he isn’t. And my middle name isn’t Alvaro.”

“Your middle name is Alvaro?” 

“Yes, but that’s beside the point, Keith!” Keith lets out a laugh through his nose and moves to wrap his arms around Lance’s waist only to be stopped. Keith groans and drops his head back to look up at the ceiling. 

“Good God, Lance! I already told you he’s not my boyfriend!”

“Then what is he? Why does he have a key to your house? Why does h-”

“He’s my brother, Lance! For crying out loud, Shiro is so not my type. Ugh, just thinking about him in that way gives me the heeby-jeebies.” Keith brings his head back up to look at Lance, finding the Cuban pouting at him. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

Keith groans again as he runs a hand over his face. “Did you not look at the family pictures that cover our walls? He’s in every single one of him cause he’s known me since I was in diapers.” Lance falls silent at this, trying to remember the family photos that hang in the Kogane household. Lance zeroes in on one family photo, focusing on Keith before shifting his mental focus onto a guy standing next to him. He mentally stares at the boy, trying to put the pieces together. Then it clicks. That’s him! Well, kinda. He has black hair in that picture and is missing the scar running across the bridge of his nose, but it’s him! Oh, thank the heavens. 

Lance sighs in relief and slumps against Keith. “Oh, thank god,” he speaks aloud, letting Keith wraps his arms around his waist while his arms hang loosely by his side. 

“You’re such an idiot sometimes.” 

“Hey, don’t be mean to your boyfriend,” Lance whines, looping his arms around Keith’s neck. 

“Boyfriend?” Keith asks, his tone almost sounding teasing. Lance blushes furiously as he pulls away, staring up at Keith with wide eyes. 

“What? Pfft, no. I didn’t say that. I said…best friend,” Lance argues, pulling away to open the microwave. Keith chuckles and presses his front to Lance’s back, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist again. 

“Oh, really? What a shame. I was hoping that I could call this cute guy I know my boyfriend. Too bad,” Keith says, faking nonchalance as he pulls away. Lance spins around and catches him by the collar before Keith can slip away. 

“You should ask him then. I bet he likes you.” 

“Yeah? You think so?” Keith asks, his face growing nearer to Lance’s. 

“I know so.”

“Mm, okay,” Keith whispers, his lips ghosting against Lance’s. He then pulls back and suddenly takes out his phone, making Lance whine and huff. 

“What are you doing?” Lance groans, tugging on the arm that holds his phone. 

“Texting the guy I like,” Keith replies calmly, a smirk growing on his lips. Lance’s heart stops at this, suddenly confused. Doesn’t Keith like him? Why would he text someone else? 

Lance goes to pull away dejectedly when his back pocket suddenly vibrates. He perks up like a flower in spring, a smile coming to his face as he slips his phone out. 

‘Be my boyfriend?’ reads the text from ‘Mullet Man.’

Lance looks up at Keith with a smile that puts the sun to shame, his slim fingers swiftly typing a message back to Keith. 

‘No <3’

Keith scoffs and looks up at Lance, finding him dipping his finger into his soup to test the temperature. “Why you little-” Keith grounds out, wrapping his arm around Lance’s neck to put him in a chokehold. 

“Keith! Stop!” Lance shrieks with laughter, trying to pry his arm away. “I knew you’d be a kinky guy, but I didn’t think you’d be into choking!” Lance jokes, Keith’s laughter ringing like bells in his ear. 

“Does everything have to be sexual with you?” Keith asks between chuckles as he pulls away from the shorter male, his arms moving to wound around Lance’s waist. 

“Yes, actually,” Lance sasses, giving Keith’s cheek a kiss as his arms find their way back around his neck. Keith hums and lightly massages his hips, his heart fluttering in his chest. After staring into each other’s eyes like lovesick fools and kissing each other breathless, Lance pulls away to reheat his food since it had cooled off while they were fooling around. 

“So, what is your type?” Lance asks as he pulls his rewarmed food out of the microwave, hopping up on the counter as he starts to eat. Keith is temporarily distracted from his weird question by the fact that his newfound boyfriend is sitting on the counter in front of him with his legs wide open, the limbs seeming to just be waiting to get bitten into. 

“What?” Keith replies very smartly, thank you. Lance snorts around his food and it should be gross that when he did that, a piece of rice flew out of his mouth, but Keith thinks it’s just insanely cute of his dork of a boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. God, he’ll never get tired of saying that. 

Ew, he really is whipped for him. 

“Earlier, you said that Shiro was so not your type,” Lance starts, attempting to mock Keith’s deep voice and failing miserably, “So what is your type then?” Keith hums thoughtfully as if he actually has to ponder the question, his feet idly taking him closer to the Cuban. 

“Well, I love…” Keith trails off, making a point to eat Lance alive with his gaze, “skin that has been kissed by the sun god himself. I love dark, curly hair that just begs me to touch it. I love eyes that are bluer than the ocean. I love thighs that I’d gladly let crush me any day of the week…” At that last part, Keith moves in between his boyfriend’s legs and places his hands onto the toned thighs that rest on the counter. He looks up from the meaty flesh when he hears a whimper, smirking when he finds Lance’s eyes clouded with newfound lust. 

“Shut up and kiss me already,” Lance begs, setting his food off to the side to wrap his arms around Keith’s neck. 

And who is Keith to deny the perfect man?

“What’s your favorite flower?” Keith looks up from the book that he’s reading at the question, raising his brow when he finds Lance staring back at him in anticipation. 

“What?” is Keith’s eloquent reply. 

“Your favorite flower. You have to have one,” Lance says as he places his head back onto Keith’s shoulder and looks around at the sunflower field they’re currently lounging in. 

“Oh, um…I’d say it’s…an Allium,” he replies after thinking for a moment. 

“What? Aluminum?” Lance jokingly repeats back to him. Keith laughs and turns his head to look down at Lance.

“No. Allium,” he repeats. Lance hums and then tries the word out on his tongue and Keith can’t deny that he likes the way Lance says it with his accent. 

“I’ve never heard of it. What color is it?” 

“It has more than one color, like most flowers. They can be blue, purple, white, or yellow.” 

“Oh. What’s your favorite then?” 

“Well, it used to be the purple one but now…” Keith trails off, suddenly gaining heat in his cheeks. His cut-off makes Lance pick his head up to look over at Keith. 

“But now what?” he asks curiously, leaning his face closer to his. 

“Nothing.” 

“C’mon, babe! You have to tell me!” 

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!” 

“Says who?” 

“Me!”

“That means nothing to me,” Keith replies with a snort. Lance scoffs and lightly smacks his arm. 

“I’m your boyfriend!”

“That’s precisely why I can’t tell you.”

“Don’t make me dump your ugly ass!” Lance shouts. 

“First of all, you’re too obsessed with me to ever dump me. Second of all, you and I both know that you don’t think I, or my ass, are ugly,” Keith replies with a smirk. Lance huffs before letting out a long groan as he leans against him dramatically. 

“Please,” Lance begs, carrying out the vowels. 

“No,” Keith bluntly replies. 

“Pretty please!” 

“No.” 

“I’ll give you a blowjob!” Lance offers. 

“You’d do that anyway.”

“Not anymore I won’t!”

“Lance-”

“Just tell me!” 

“The blue ones are my favorite now,” Keith replies with an eye roll. Lance pauses at this before huffing, flopping down into Keith’s lap and right over his book. 

“All of that fuss just for that?” 

“They’re my favorite now because of you, idiot.” 

“Oh,” Lance mumbles, stretching at the word out. 

“It’s an onion.”

Keith looks up from his computer when his boyfriend invites himself into his room without knocking. Luckily for Keith, he’s used to it. “What is?” he asks, closing his laptop since he knows that now his boyfriend is here, he won’t be getting any work done. 

“Your favorite flower!” Keith pauses and stares at Lance as if he’s grown a second head before realizing just what Lance is talking about. 

“Oh. Yeah, it is,” Keith says casually in response despite the fact that his boyfriend is gaping at him. Lance walks over to him and Keith swings his legs off the bed to rest his feet on the floor. Lance walks right up to him and Keith gently tugs him between his legs even though the Cuban looks hysterical. 

“Your favorite flower in an onion?” Lance asks again, wanting more clarification. 

“Yes,” Keith replies, not giving it to him. Lance sighs and rests his head on top of Keith’s, inhaling the scent of Keith’s shampoo (that Lance had gotten him since the heathen was using 2in1). 

“Just go look downstairs,” Lance sighs, giving up on trying to talk sense into Keith. He makes sure to make a note of this though and to constantly bully Keith about it despite the fact that he secretly thinks it’s cute. It doesn’t matter if it’s cute though, he’s never letting Keith live it down. 

Keith raises a brow and slowly stands up, gently taking Lance’s hand in his as he heads downstairs. The surprise is obvious since nothing is usually there. 

“You brought me some?” Keith asks softly, walking over to the door where the normally empty flower vase is currently filled with his favorite flower. 

“Yeah. I’m surprised they fit,” Lance grumbles but Keith is too busy being flustered over the fact that he brought him flowers to nag at him. 

“Thank you. No one’s ever gotten me flowers before,” Keith says softly, leaning down to smell them. He smiles when he feels arms go around his waist, leaning back into his shorter boyfriend (Only by three inches, Keith. Oh my god.) with a hum. 

“Well, get used to it, baby. I’m gonna keep buying you flowers,” Lance promises in his ear before spinning him around to give him a kiss. Keith smiles into the kiss, feeling his heart dance in his chest. “Only after you pick a new favorite flower though because these were hard to find.” 

Keith smacks his chest for that one, but he laughs nonetheless and agrees for his whining boyfriend.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Klance