Alastor’s flock was a small, odd collection of hens. There was Charlie, the head hen, a plucky little Buff Orpington, and Vaggie, the Barred Rock that always followed her around. Niffty, the tiny Bantam Red Cochin who always followed Alastor around, Angel, a Silke, and her friend Husk, the grumpy Black Copper Marans. Finally, there was Penni and Cherri, the pair of ridiculous Polishes that Alastor had to pay close attention to, since their crests made them more vulnerable.

Alastor may have been considered an odd rooster, thanks to his lack of interest in actually breeding the hens, but none of them had complained.

Alastor hopped up on the fence, threw back his head, and crowed, reminding the yard of his presence. The hens shuffled around, scratching in the dirt. Penni wandered too close to Vaggie, and received a sharp peck on the head from Charlie. A petty squabble that Alastor left them to sort out themselves.

He spied a dish of corn, and strutted over to it. He put out a wing, dancing around it and clucking at his flock, making sure they knew he’d found them a tasty treat. They obediently scurried over. He waited until the flock had eaten before pecking a few kernels up for himself, whilst keeping an eye out for threats.

The threat came in the form of a White Leghorn strutting through the gate like he owned the place. Alastor’s feathers bristled. The other rooster made his way through the yard, clucking to the hens as he passed. Alastor expected his head hen to shoo the interloper away, but she simply watched him. The white rooster scratched around a tomato plant, plucking a fat hornworm free. He dropped it at Charlie’s feet, clucking excitedly.

Charlie eagerly accepted the worm, slapping it on the ground to kill it, before swallowing it whole.

Alastor flew at him. This was his flock, and this newcomer would not be tolerated.

The white rooster met him in a flurry of feathers and spurs. They clashed with brutal kicks and pecks, until Charlie got fed up and pecked both of them into submission.

The red rooster kept a sharp eye on the other male, but he seemed subdued after Charlie’s show of authority. As Alastor watched, he found another hornworm. He plucked it from the leaf it clung to, and shuffled over to Alastor.

Lucifer dropped the worm near Alastor, put out a wing, and tidbitted for him. Ordinarily Alastor would’ve called one of the hens to accept the treat, but the other rooster had brought it to him. He was still tidbitting around. Alastor slapped the worm on a rock, once, twice, three times, until it broke in two. He gulped down half, then clucked at the other male.

He wouldn’t be tidbitting back or submitting to the white rooster, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to share.

Alastor’s flock was a small, odd collection of hens. There was Charlie, the head hen, a plucky little Buff Orpington, and Vaggie, the Barred Rock that always followed her around. Niffty, the tiny Bantam Red Cochin, and her friend Husk, the grumpy Black Copper Marans. Finally, there was Penni and Cherri, the pair of ridiculous Polishes that Alastor had to pay close attention to, since their crests made them more vulnerable.

Alastor may have been considered an odd rooster, thanks to his lack of interest in actually breeding the hens, but none of them had complained.

Alastor hopped up on the fence, threw back his head, and crowed, reminding the yard of his presence. The hens shuffled around, scratching in the dirt. Penni wandered too close to Vaggie, and received a sharp peck on the head from Charlie. A petty squabble that Alastor left them to sort out themselves.

He spied a dish of corn, and strutted over to it. He put out a wing, dancing around it and clucking at his flock, making sure they knew he’d found them a tasty treat. They obediently scurried over. He waited until the flock had eaten before pecking a few kernels up for himself, whilst keeping an eye out for threats.

The threat came in the form of a White Leghorn strutting through the gate like he owned the place. Alastor’s feathers bristled. The other rooster made his way through the yard, clucking to the hens as he passed. Alastor expected his head hen to shoo the interloper away, but she simply watched him. The white rooster scratched around a tomato plant, plucking a fat hornworm free. He dropped it at Charlie’s feet, clucking excitedly.

Charlie eagerly accepted the worm, slapping it on the ground to kill it, before swallowing it whole.

Alastor flew at him. This was his flock, and this newcomer would not be tolerated.

The white rooster met him in a flurry of feathers and spurs. They clashed with brutal kicks and pecks, until Charlie got fed up and pecked both of them into submission.

The red rooster kept a sharp eye on the other male, but he seemed subdued after Charlie’s show of authority. As Alastor watched, he found another hornworm. He plucked it from the leaf it clung to, and shuffled over to Alastor.

Lucifer dropped the worm near Alastor, put out a wing, and tidbitted for him. Ordinarily Alastor would’ve called one of the hens to accept the treat, but the other rooster had brought it to him. He was still tidbitting around. Alastor slapped the worm on a rock, once, twice, three times, until it broke in two. He gulped down half, then clucked at the other male.

He wouldn’t be tidbitting back or submitting to the white rooster, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to share.

Alastor:

Charlie:

Vaggie:

Niffty:

Angel:

Husk:

Penni:

Cherri:

Lucifer:

Fantasies aside, Lance was glad to see Keith. He’d known how much leaving had agonized his friend. After eighteen years, his mother had finally come back into his life, had wanted to have him spend the summer with her to reconnect in the Caribbean. He remembered looking at Krolia Kogane, the dark brown of her skin under a mop of dark hair, a pretty face like Keith’s, eyes like Keith’s, and a heart bared to her son for a simple chance.

Lance remembered how withdrawn Keith had been leading up to graduation. The way his quiet nature had taken on a dangerous and discomforting edge. His mother’s presence had left him conflicted and angry and wanting; caught between wishing to freeze her out and reconcile all at once.

Lance remembered the way he’d been curled up with his friend, back to back in Lance’s bed, hearing the agony of decision rocking Keith.

In the end, between Shiro and Keith’s dad, Keith had accepted. He’d gone back to Krolia’s home country with all but a knapsack, a typical Keith move, and had probably taken Lance’s heart with him. At some point, Keith had video called all of them and said - he’d be staying longer than a summer.

Then two years had passed.

Time had done nothing to quell Lance’s feelings or his attraction. So here he was, pretending like he wasn’t hiding in the Kogane’s bathroom, a place he’d been in tons of times when he and Hunk slept over at Keith’s place. He looked at himself in the mirror, cursed the faint scar his zit had left behind, and inhaled deeply.

“Just because Keith is back, and he’s grizzled and - and buff, and really, really, super hot,” Lance swallowed. “Does not mean that you cannot handle this, Lance McClain!”

Making a slight distressed noise, Lance steeled himself and hurried out of the bathroom. Behind Keith’s bedroom door, Lance could hear the tell tale signs of the video game Lance had left Keith playing. Lance laid his forehead against the wood of the door. His heart was beating loud enough that he was sure Keith might think he was knocking. Three days back and Keith had been the one to text Lance to sleep over. He’d promised him videogames and pizza, just like they used to do, with the edge of something unspoken in between the lines. Lance feared he was letting his fantasies get the better of him. Regardless, he’d agreed, and now he was just standing outside his crush’s door trying not to melt. Lance shouldered his way in.

“Took you long enough,” Keith teased. He was flopped back on a mountain of pillows on the floor, a greasy paper towel on his honest-to-god abs where his shirt had ridden up, and he was too busy killing Blighters with Jacob’s brass knuckles to care.

Lance tsked. “You know perfection like this takes time , Keith. I had to be thorough.”

“You look perfectly fine to me. Always have.” Lance could only hope Keith didn’t see the way his face bloomed red. He settled back next to Keith, one leg flung over his knee. “Hey, you want to do the next mission?”

“Hell yeah,” Lance said, switching to Evie.

-

Lance hadn’t even known when he’d fallen asleep. One moment he and Evie were ziplining across rooftops, and the next his cheek was cushioned against Keith’s shoulder. It wasn’t a new thing, leaning into Keith’s space like that. He’d done it enough times when they were growing up that it felt natural. When exhaustion had started to set in, Lance had curled himself against his friend, tucked the heels of his feet into Keith’s thighs where he’d thrown them over his lap. Keith, as usual, had barely even batted an eye, only stolen the controller when he’d deemed Lance too lazy.

Lance woke slowly, groaning as he struggled to open his eyes. He raised his head up, catching the underside of Keith’s jaw in his line of vision. The shadow of coarse hair there made Lance pause. From it, a faint scar hugged Keith’s cheek. He wanted to run his fingers along the curve of Keith’s jaw, trail along the scar. He became aware of where his hand was cradled. Right against that firm chest he’d been fantasizing about lately. A hand smoothed the hair at the back of his head.

“Finally up, huh? Guess I can finally change my shirt,” Keith teased, a cheeky grin on his face.

It made all types of heat flood Lance’s body like molten lava. Just when he thought the cool of the ocean had quelled the fire, there Keith was, grinning his lopsided little grin, still the same, and yet so different, and igniting Lance into ash with the barest of lilts. Unfair.

“Whuh?” Lance muttered, looking back down. Yup, a drool spot. “Oh my gawwd, why didn’t you wake me up? Dude!”

Keith snorted. “It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve done it.” Tenderly, almost like a secret to himself, Keith said, “Won’t be the last time, either.”

Lance flushed, resisting the urge to tuck his face into the curve of Keith’s neck, fingers playing with the fabric of Keith’s tight ass shirt. Had he not gone shopping for new clothes or something? Or was he determined to drive Lance wild? No way he was asking.

When Lance didn’t say anything more, Keith moved his shoulder under his hands, and then motioned his chin towards the bunk beds. “You wanna turn in then? We made pretty good progress on this game.”

“Yeah, why not. We can get more done tomorrow after breakfast if you want,” Lance agreed.

Groaning, he rose to his feet and stretched. Keith crossed in front of him, peeling his shirt off his body and making his way to the dresser in the corner. Lance nearly swallowed his tongue. His eyes followed the lean muscles of his back, the peek of his v when Keith turned, disappearing under the waistband of his pajama bottoms. His shoulder were even wider than his t-shirt seemed to imply, molded to his skin as it may be. A faded scar cut across his shoulder. Without thinking, Lance reached out to touch it. Keith turned to him.

He rested his hand over where Lance’s fingers traced the raised skin. “It’s an old thing. I got it fighting my uncles. They don’t pull any punches, but - they taught me a lot I’m grateful for.”

“Like getting your ass handed to you?” Lance asked, cocking a brow.

Keith laughed. “Well, yeah. Uncle Antok used to grab me by the back of my shirt and just - throw me. I did a lot over there, worked on Uncle Regris’ farm, helped Uncle Kolivan in town. They kept me busy, but they also welcomed me in. Scars mean little in the long run.”

“You really changed, huh,” Lance murmured. “I’m glad you got to go. You look - happier. I’m proud of you.”

Keith squeezed his hand, grinning faintly, shyly. Lance bit his lip. Keith took Lance’s hand in his, eyes lingering on his knuckles as his lips parted. He pulled away to tug his shirt on haphazardly, leaving a bit of skin just below his navel.

“So, top or bottom?” Keith asked.

Lance choked, feeling his palms drench. “Uhm, what?”

Keith tilted his chin at the bunk beds, eyes dark under his lashes. Dangerous. Lance looked away, stuttering around his next words.

“Uh, b-bottom. Good ole bottom bunk. Yep.” Lance gave an awkward laugh.

“Yeah, that sounds right,” Keith said, making his way to the bed. Their hands brushed as Keith passed, igniting Lance like a match. Keith put his foot on the first rung of the ladder. Something like a smirk crept across his face. “Kinda happy to know you’ll be under me.”

He wants to destroy me , Lance helplessly thought.

Then, Keith ascended to the top bunk. “Cuz, the only roommate I had was Uncle Antok and he was the worst. At least I know you don’t snore.”

Lance only just barely contained his internal screaming before he was diving into the bottom bunk. He twisted himself up into the fabric of his sheets, cursing the existence of mullet-haired boys and the way they made him damn near stupid. The Keith from two years ago was an awkward, angry thing, who sometimes had trouble just ordering a drink at a coffee shop. The Keith of now was calm where his other self was not, confident, and dare he say it, charming.

Keith’s knuckles rapped on the metal barrier of the top bunk. “G’night, Lance,” Keith softly said.

Burying himself further against his pillow, Lance gently replied, “Night Keith.”

Sleep wasn’t as easy after that. Not like it had been cradled up against Keith.

-

Lance rolled over. He stared into the darkness of Keith’s room, tracing the familiar outlines of the posters on the wall, and the old glow stars still stuck there. He ran his fingers over the indent he knew was there, the K + L that Keith had etched into the wall when they were eight, and Keith had declared them best friends. Attached not too far from it to the wall was a walkie talkie.

Countless hours over the years spent using them in the still of the night. Telling stories and secrets, and one almost confession the day before Keith was due to leave. Lance took it in his hands. He flipped it on. A hum of static sounded. Lance pressed the button down, gathering his courage.

“Hey, Keith, you awake? Over,” Lance whispered.

Above him, he could hear the other walkie talkie gargle his question. He felt the bed shift, Keith rolling over towards his own. Lance squinted, laughing quietly to himself at the way Keith’s feet apparently hung over the edge of his bunk. Oh boy.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Keith replied. “Uh, Over.”

“You nerd. No I just. I just wanted to tell you, I’m happy you’re back.”

"I’m happy to be back.” Keith’s voice was a gentle thing, warm in Lance’s ear. Chased the silent little fears he didn’t realize he’d had away in an instant. It made him think back to all those nights before, falling asleep together on the phone. (This time without Antok’s snoring as background music). Lance breathed out, pressed his hand over his heart and willed it firm as he let his thoughts tumble free.

“I really missed you, Samurai. You were only supposed to be gone for like two months and here it is two years.” Lance chuckled, a genuine affection in the tone. “Leave it to you to pull such a Keith .”

“You can’t be the only dramatic one in this family,” Keith joked. An edge tinged his voice, one Lance knew well. “Sorry if I made you worry or anything.”

Lance chewed in his lip. He was never mad at Keith, never upset. He needed his friend to know that, understand that. All this time, he only wanted what was best for him.

“Don’t be. I mean, yeah, I worried. I know how much it was - was bothering you before you left. I worried that you were unhappy. But I’m glad I was wrong. I’m glad you’re okay. Better than okay.”

“Me, too. I was...prepared to hate it, to be honest. I was always looking for some reason to just hate everything. Mom and I grew closer, we came to understand things more. She’s even moving back.” Lance could hear the joy in Keith’s voice as he continued. They don’t think I know, but Dad’s going to propose to her all over again. Can you believe it?”

“Who knew Kogane men were so romantic? Maybe it skipped you,” Lance teased.

“Why don’t you come up here and find out?” Keith shot back.

Lance’s heart leapt into his ears. Loud thumps rocking against the inside of his head, Keith’s words a hammer against them. He couldn’t have heard right. A silence fell over them, with just Lance’s aching chest screaming at him and his fingers yearning to hold Keith’s hands in his. He heard Keith shift.

“Lance?”

“Th - There’s no way we’re both fitting up there, you egg.” Good job, Lance. Fake it till you make it. “So, come down here and - ”

Lance jolted at the speed of Keith’s feet hitting the metal ladder, whipping around to watch his friend swing onto the bottom bunk. He tackled him against the mattress, sending them into a painful heap of limbs. Lance pulled at Keith, forcing him to lie side by side with him, his eyes bright

“I love you,” Keith blurted, still the awkward kid Lance could remember. Lance couldn’t help his smile. “I’ve been in love with you and being away only made it worse. If you’ll even just give me one chance, I’ll never let you regret it.”

“I never regret anything with you,” Lance admitted.

Keith gathered Lance’s hands in his, locked eyes with him as he brought his knuckles up for a kiss. The moment his lips touched the skin of his knuckle, brushed the backs of his hands, Lance couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him.

“Keith, I’ve loved you since we were twelve .” Lance reluctantly took his hands from Keith’s grip, weaseled them around Keith’s neck, and flung a leg over his hip. “Why are you always so late to the party?”

“Better late than never,” Keith muttered petulantly around a lopsided grin. He darted his eyes to Lance’s lips, deliberate in his motions. Lance nipped his finger when he tapped at the plump of his lower lip.

“Gonna kiss me, Chief?”

Cupping Lance’s jaw in his hands, the rough pads of his fingers gentle against the skin of his cheek, Keith drew Lance in. He looked at him from under the cover of his lashes, dark and inviting, committing the high flush of Lance’s cheeks, and the faint freckles hiding at the corners of his eyes to memory. Keith smiled and said, “As you wish.”

No kiss could ever compare, Lance though, melting under Keith’s fire, and pulling him in again and again, until they seemed to collapse and become one. Two stars chasing each other on an endless orbit. Lance pulled away to catch his breath before letting Keith pull him under, breathless and wanting, and greedily rewarded.

-

“Hey be real with me. Were you actually asking about bunk beds earlier?”

“No. I really just wanted to mess with you. I already knew you were a bottom.”

Any attempts at overpowering Keith only ended with Lance pinned. The weight of Keith’s hands on his wrists, the ghost of his teeth nipping at Lance’s lower lip, was more than enough for Lance to melt, and surrender. Raking his fingers through Keith’s hair, Lance parted his lips and accepted defeat.

-

AN: my best bud is feeling not the best. so I hope this is okaaay.I also wanna say I've been Buff Keith since s1 and I am in Heaven. I also stan Lance and the Others calling Keith "Chief" :D.

Nothing about this fic is meant to be taken seriously, it just for fun. I was headcanoning to myself and then with Jas about some silly banter concerning KL and bunkbeds and jokingly how Keith gets Lance to admit he's a bottom lmao. Then this idea popped up in my head. Also, I'm really obsessed with AC Syndicate and I'm late to the party by some years but whatever. So that's why Keith is playing Syndicate. Walkie talkie idea for this goes to Jas.

It was either going to be a modern au or a canon divergence where the castleship (SPOILER) hadn't been blown up /yet/ and Lance got to be tortured by Keith's buff existence a little more. Lance totally gets wrecked at a later point.

as said before this is for my friendo, who is not feeling so great. I hope this can take your mind off things for a little while, love.