#kinance

lance in ryan's sweatshirt.

God, idk what i did but I sure let myself go with this. Also, don’t get me wrong, I love freaking Kinkade. Bless that man.

It’s stupid. It’s so childish.

It’s -

Keith gapes in disbelief and outrage when Kinkade steals the last of the pudding from the cafeteria’s and, with that hidden smug smile that apparently no one fucking sees ever but Keith, he makes his way to Lance.

Red Paladin Lance. Voltron’s Lance.

Keith’s Lance.

Oh, it’s on.

For the third time this week.

Keith’s a little unsure on how this entire thing developed, honestly. Being fair, it had been a rough couple of weeks since their fight with the strange robobeast that looked like a spider.

But he made it through, his entire team and planet made it through. He’s alive, his friends and family are alive and with him. Really, it was hard to put him in a bad mood.

Until, obviously, someone (Kinkade) seemed to pay too much attention to a certain paladin (Lance).

Keith didn’t even waste his own spit by denying anything. He cared. A lot. He cared a lot that someone was freaking hitting on the guy he liked.

Come on, man, Keith was even planning on confessing!

Soon-ish.

Someday during this century.

Or the next life.

But now he really was planning on doing something about since, apparently, he was going to lose his man! So, yeah, Keith wouldn’t have it. He wouldn’t have this fairly cool as shit pilot guy steal his man.

And he knows. Keith knows that Kinkade knows he knows.

It’s a mess, Keith knows.

It’s in the way Kinkade keeps sending him these…looks. He once brought it up with Shiro and the other man limited himself to arch an eyebrow at him and say ‘that’s his face, Keith.’

Yes, he knows that’s his face, Shiro. Such a helpful older brother figure.

But it wasn’t only the looks! It was on those lips too; the way they would curve on the edge once everyone’s attention was somewhere else but Keith would see it. He would see that smug sneaky shit-eating grin on the dark-skinned man and then said man would proceed by throwing his arm over Lance’s shoulders.

Wow. Wow, just - there’s no respect in this damn planet anymore.

Never fucking mind Keith saved it a few months ago with his team. No, please, go ahead and steal his crush.

“Keith, you’re, uh, almost to the point of being able to cook an egg on your skin, buddy,” Hunk whispers behind him, shyly poking him on the shoulder. “And not to be pushy but you gotta move, the line behind is us getting restless.”

Keith doesn’t answer. He just keeps staring at the far corner of the cafeteria where Lance sits with Romelle and Allura. He stares at the way his crush laughs freely, pressing a hand over his chest to calm himself down with little success.

It’s beyond endearing, something so enchantingly Lance that Keith just wants to frame the moment.

Until fucking Kinkade slides himself next to Lance and, with a proud grin, presents the last pudding on the cafeteria to the brunet.

God, it’s sickening that Lance’s sweet smile it’s now on Kinkade.

Kinkade. Not Keith. Kinkade.

Keith’s going to be sick.

“Oh, shoot,” he hears Hunk whispers behind him and Keith doesn’t understand his sudden quietness until he sees his own plastic tray broken in half.

“Huh,” Keith mumbles with a confused frown before he shrugs and passes the tray to Hunk. “Here, I will be back.”

“Um, where are you going?” Hunk asks carefully, eyeing his friend and then the tray on his hands with a nervous look.

Keith huffs as he shoves his hands on his pockets, face turning darker when he feels no money on them. “To buy more pudding. And borrow Shiro’s money from his sock-bank.”

Hunk, bless his soul, doesn’t even question him. “Okay, it’s under his underwear drawer.”

“I know.”

“And Lance likes the white pudding; get that and you will be on the lead, buddy.”

Lance gets attacked by ducks and Kinkade is Moronsexual.

AO3

-

It was the third day in a row.

Three whole days of Kinkade coming out to Arus City Park to eat lunch and watch this guy, like clockwork, feed some ducks his lunch then get attacked almost immediately after. Kinkade could pinpoint the moment both the guy and the ducks knew what was going to happen. The guy tried to brush away crumbs from his fingers, a sliver of crust in his other hand. The ducks advanced, a menacing quack coming from one’s throat. The others surrounding Sandwich Guy. He crawled back, cracking what Kinkade figured was a joke. With its wings raised high, Sandwich Guy was up and scrambling and there went the ducks after him.

The first time, Kinkade kinda thought silently to himself, dumbass and kept eating his sandwich. The second time, he kinda wanted to yell across the pond if he was okay.

(But Kinkade was never very good with words. He wasn't talkative by nature. He was more than content to let others do the talking for him. He had been half way into raising his hand before he’d let it drop, suddenly, strangely, embarrassed to even just say Hey .)

On one hand, he wanted to say maybe the guy deserved it. Ducks were evil. On the other…the guy was cute as heck.

He was thin with wide shoulders, a swimmer’s build, drowning in a big jacket with barely his fingers peeking out. When he tossed the ducks bits of bread, the prettiest smile stretched across his face. Wide and boyish, dimpled to the side, and everything Kinkade wanted to see up close.

Kind , Kinkade concluded.

It wasn't that Sandwich Guy was dumb, it was that he was kind. Kindness purely from the heart, nevermind the consequences. Why else would he risk being mauled by ducks to feed those ungrateful little demons?

Kinkade had come earlier than usual today. He sat at his usual spot, sandwich laying uselessly, uninterestingly in his hands. He watched the ducks at the pond floating blissfully along the water, a row of young, fuzzy yellow ducklings following behind their mother. He ignored the feeling of heat on his cheeks, eyes flitting around to try and spot the familiar olive green of an oversized jacket.

Five, then ten minutes passed, and from his periphery someone with a skip in their step and a brown bag full of sandwiches came to the usual spot by the pond. Kinkade hunkered down, trying to seem like he wasn't staring. (He was.)

Sandwich Guy plopped down, giving a little wave at the ducks. Having spotted him, they advanced on him, hungry and squawking, and unappreciative of the the kindness they were receiving. Kinkade would gladly show them how it was done.

Sandwich Guy took out two sandwiches and started to rip them apart. He cooed at the ducks, praising them when they gulped the pieces down. At times, he gestured at them, almost like he was telling them a story. He nodded when he got a quack in return, throwing another piece of bread. Kinkade watched, his own sandwich untouched as he tried to burn the image of that pretty face into his memory; he’d need it if he was gonna survive a shift between Griffith and Rizavi snarking at each other.

He felt himself tense, knowing that this was the moment the ducks would turn on their benefactor. Sandwich guy seemed to know, too. He shot them a nervous smile, rising to his feet. He gave a little salute, twirling on his heel -- and set off running as soon as the battle cry sounded. He tripped five steps away, instantly swarmed. Kinkade was running before he knew it.

Sandwich still in hand, Kinkade gave a shrill whistle, felt those evil beady eyes fall on him, and chucked his sandwich as far as he could away from the other man. When the ducks, and their demon spawn, had waddled away, Sandwich Guy peeked out from the haven of his arms, confused. He looked around until his gaze landed on Kinkade. He uncurled, sitting back and looking at Kinkade like he’d just seen a really great sunset. Kinkade awkwardly waved a hand.

“Dude, you just saved me!” He said. “I owe you one! I'm Lance, by the way.”

The corner of Kinkade’s mouth ticked up.

“...Ryan,” He greeted back.

He cleared his throat. “You know...you aren't supposed to feed ducks bread.”

Lance gaped. “For real??”

Kinkade nodded. “Hm.”

Lance glanced around at the ducks attacking the sandwich like starving piranha. He looked back sheepishly at Kinkade, a bit off color on his face; it looked good on him. Kinkade wondered if he held this guy’s hands if he would light up just the same way.

“Secret’s safe with me,” Kinkade said. “If you buy me a new sandwich.”

Lance grinned brilliantly. A set of fireworks seemed to go off, an array of colors that burst in the cavern of Kinkade’s chest and made him breathless. He held out a hand to Lance. With no hesitation, Lance took it, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.

“I’d like that,” Lance said, still smiling, gently swinging their hands between them.

Kinkade ducked his head. “Hm.” He would really like that, too.

With a playful tug, Kinkade let Lance pull him along, watched the way he kept looking over his shoulder, just to light up every time he set his eyes on Kinkade. He squeezed his hand again, giddy. Kinkade wasn't surprised to realize he was smiling just as widely.

-

AN: yeah don’t feed bread to ducks actually. 

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