Chapter Text
It had all started with Keith: one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder, hair tied loosely back so that less of his face was hidden than usual, standing over the table where he and Lance had originally set up camp in the library to study.
“I’m driving home this weekend to see my brother and drop off some stuff I don’t need,” is what he’d said, gripping the strap and hiking it further over his shoulder. “He says he’d feel more comfortable if I had someone with me since it’s a bit of a drive. Would you want to come with?”
Lance might have stuttered a little bit, but Keith either hadn’t noticed or had been gracious enough to let it slide. “Go with you—uh, sure thing! I’d—yeah, of course I would. Definitely. No sweat.”
“Cool,” Keith beamed. Literally beamed, eyes sparkling, posture straightening, even showing a little bit of teeth when he smiled. “I’ll text you later about when we need to leave and stuff.”
“Great,” Lance agreed, a little too loudly for a library setting. “Cool. Awesome. Sounds good.” He watched as Keith turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder before slipping around the corner to offer Lance a quick wave goodbye.
Lance waved back, Keith disappeared around the corner, and Lance promptly thumped his head against the table and tried not to scream.
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
Lance walks into his dorm room later that night, drops his backpack onto the floor, flops face-first onto his bed, and promptly screams into his pillow. It feels amazing, honestly—he’d been holding that in for nearly five hours, through multiple classes. Being this gay is hard work.
Hunk pushes his chair away from his desk and spins around. Or at least, that’s what it sounds like. Lance doesn’t actually see him do this, on account of his face is currently still buried in his pillow. “Keith?”
“Ughhh,” Lance groans.
“Is this a good or a bad Keith freak-out?”
“Bof.”
“What?”
Lance turns his head to face the room and sees Hunk peering over at him, head tipped to the side. “Both,” he repeats miserably.
Hunk just crosses his legs and settles further into his chair, because Lance has had enough “Keith freak-outs” by now for him to know the drill. “What happened?”
Lance reaches up to scrub at his face and then lets his arm dangle over the side of the bed, fingers brushing the floor. “He asked me to go home with him this weekend.” His cheeks instantly heat up when Hunk’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline, and he scrambles to put it into context. “Because he’s visiting his brother, and his brother doesn’t want him to make the drive by himself.”
“Oh,” Hunk says thoughtfully, because he’s the only person in the entire universe who can make a single, virtually meaningless syllable sound thoughtful. “And?” he prompts, when Lance only continues to stare forlornly at the wall on the other side of the room, without making any indication that he plans to explain any further. “What did you say?”
“I said yes,” Lance scoffs, chagrined. “Obviously. I’m not a total moron.”
Hunk’s brow creases, expression morphing into one of complete and utter confusion. “Ooo-kay,” he agrees slowly. “So… what exactly is the problem?”
Lance flings himself up into a sitting position, face incredulous. “The problem is that he lives three and a half hours away.”
Hunk stares at him, gaze momentarily flicking sideways before returning to Lance. “... So?” he repeats hesitantly.
“So,” Lance begins, as Hunk’s shoulders deflate and he sinks back into his chair, most likely to prepare himself for the inevitable height of Lance’s freak-out. “that’s three and a half hours in the car with Keith, alone, and three and a half hours that I have to keep myself from doing something stupid, like trying to hold his stupid hand, or tuck his stupid hair behind his ear, or kiss his stupid face—”
“Please don’t kiss and drive,” Hunk interrupts concernedly, as if that is the most pressing matter at the moment.
“Or even worse, from saying something stupid like how much I like him and want to take him out on a real date and buy him dinner and kiss his stupid face!”
Hunk hums sympathetically (his patience for Lance’s antics is endless, bless him). “Would that really be so stupid?” Lance lets out a dramatic, affirmative huff, and Hunk raises his hands in defense. “Just saying. It’s been what, six, seven months now? Haven’t you ever thought about, I don’t know. Actually telling him how you feel?”
Lance gapes at him. “Uh, hello? Aren’t you forgetting a little something?”
“No?”
“Hunk, dude. We still don’t even know if the dude is, in fact, into dudes.”
Hunk makes a strange sort of face, one that Lance isn’t able to decipher. “I mean—”
“Heck, we don’t even know if the dude is into ladies!”
“Then telling him how you feel would be a great way to find out!”
“Huuunk,” Lance groans, falling flat onto his back, the mattress bouncing a bit underneath him on impact.
“Lance, c’mon,” Hunk says gently, chair squeaking as he uncrosses his legs and plants his feet on the floor. “You have to admit, this is getting a little old.”
Lance opens his mouth to retort, because hello Hunk, you’re supposed to be on my side here— but all that comes out is a defeated sigh. He slips his pillow out from behind his head and clutches it to his chest, wrapping his arms around it and squeezing as he stares up at the pale glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling. “I’m just—I’m scared, okay? We’ve gotten so close this year, I don’t wanna ruin that by telling him how I feel. There’s just no coming back from that, you know? It makes things awkward, and even after the initial phase of weird awkwardness has passed, it’s never really the same.” He squeezes his pillow a little tighter, tucking his chin into it. “Losing him isn’t worth the closure,” he finishes quietly.
The room falls into silence then, except for the sound of Hunk’s desk fan whirring softly, and music thumping from somewhere down the hall. Lance absent-mindedly rubs his fingers along the seams on either side of his pillow, gaze tracing the outline of some of the stars above him, trying his best but ultimately failing not to look as miserable as he feels.
“Alright, let me get something straight,” Hunk says after a moment, speaking slowly as if he’s choosing his words carefully. Lance glances sideways at him without bothering to turn his head. “I get that you’re worried, but is all of this based on the… assumption. That Keith doesn’t like you back?”
Lance frowns, turning fully to face Hunk, who’s peering across the room at him through narrowed eyes. “I thought that was implied.”
Hunk looks a little bit like he wants to lay on the floor and take a nap. “You do realize that out of all the people Keith could’ve asked to go with him, he asked you.”
“I don’t see the point you’re trying to make here.”
Hunk sighs, long and wistful, voice full of sympathy as he shakes his head. “Oh, Lance.”
“And I don’t appreciate your tone!” Lance squawks, his face burning even though he truly, genuinely doesn’t understand why Hunk is looking at him like that. “Just—whatever! I’ve made it this long without saying anything. What’s another weekend?”
He rolls over onto his side to avoid Hunk’s long-suffering gaze, hunching his shoulders and curling up into a ball. Hunk sighs again. “It’s your choice, man.”
Lance chews on his lip and focuses on a pen mark on the wall as he listens to the sound of Hunk spinning back around in his chair to resume work at his desk. Yes, Lance has made it this long—barely. But it’s sucked. Like, supremely sucked, and now he has to spend three and a half hours in a car, plus the entirety of the weekend, plus another three and a half hours in a car on the way back, all of it with Keith.
Alone. Together. By themselves.
Lance shoves the pillow over his face and muffles a long, drawn-out groan.
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
Here’s the thing: Lance already knew that he was doomed.
But he didn’t know exactly how doomed until the weekend arrived, much sooner than he was ready for. Suddenly it’s Friday morning, and his small handful of back-to-back classes are the only thing standing between him and a three and a half hour car ride with Keith. He doesn’t even have time in between to prepare—Keith gets out of his last class at eleven, meaning he’ll already have his car packed and ready to go by the time Lance gets out at noon.
Needless to say, it’s unsurprising that Lance spends less time paying attention in class and more time spamming Hunk’s phone with panicked texts.
—
[11:06 am] lanceroo: hunk
pls i have been sending texts since my 9am ANSWER ME
I’M IN A CRISIS
also i know you’re not in class >:(
[11:07 am] hunk o’cheese: the only way to make sure you’re paying attention in class, like the amazing friend that i am, is by ignoring your texts
[11:07 am] lanceroo: did you forget the part where i am IN CRISIS
[11:08 am] hunk o’cheese: sigh
[11:08 am] lanceroo: don’t you digitally sigh at me
huuunk :(
[11:09 am] hunk o’cheese: okay, okay, i’m sorry. i guess i still don’t understand why you’re so nervous?
you’ve hung out with keith on your own plenty of times
[11:09 am] lanceroo: idk
this just feels so much different
like, we’re gonna be spending the entire weekend together
away from campus
ughhh idk!!! do u think i’m overthinking it
[11:10 am] hunk o’cheese: maybe a little, but you know i can’t say much
[11:10 am] lanceroo: after the shay incident? you can say nothing <3
[11:10 am] hunk o’cheese: that was already implied okay!!!! you didn’t have to bring it up!!!!!
[11:11 am] lanceroo: <333
omg wait 11:11 make a wish
[11:11 am] hunk o’cheese: let me guess. you wished that keith would kiss you
[11:12 am] lanceroo: SHUT UP
not that you’re wrong. that would be nice actually
WAIT NO STOP I AM NOT DISCUSSING THIS WITH U
[11:12 am] hunk o’cheese: thank god
[11:12 am] lanceroo: u are so mean to me </3
[11:13 am] hunk o’cheese: i love you!
[11:13 am]: i love you too <3
[11:15 am] hunk o’cheese: i gotta study for my test at 2. try not to worry too much, okay?? text me when you’re leaving
[11:16 am] lanceroo: ok :(
[11:17 am] hunk o’cheese: <3
[11:17 am] lanceroo: <3
—
[11:53 am] lanceroo: oh god it’s happening
keith just texted he’s picking me up outside
[11:54 am] hunk o’cheese: go get him buddy!!!
[11:54 am] lanceroo: DUCK
ok autocorrect
u know what i meant
wish me luck :’(
[11:54 am] hunk o’cheese: good luck!
—
As planned, Keith is waiting outside in his old beat-up Chevy Camaro, chipped red paint and dented bumpers and all. (If he’d had his way, he would’ve brought his motorcycle to college—Shiro had convinced him otherwise after his grandfather offered to fix up an old car from the shop, just for Keith.) Lance can see him through the passenger seat window, gaze fixed on his phone and mouth mumbling along to the music he’s probably playing. It’s cute and a little too much for Lance to handle at the moment, so he lingers for another moment on the front steps of the building, stalling.
Hunk is right—Lance and Keith hang out by themselves all the time, so what’s one more weekend? Regardless of his feelings, they’re really good friends, and that’s the important part. He’s pretty sure he can handle it, and either way it’s not like he was about to pass up the chance to spend more time with his college crush. Alone. For an entire weekend. It’s fine.
“Okay,” Lance mutters, shifting his weight back and forth and clutching at his backpack straps to steady himself. “I can do this. It’s just one weekend. What could possibly happen?” Then he takes a deep breath, and starts down the steps.
Keith doesn’t even look up when Lance opens the passenger side door, still tapping at his phone and reaching forward to turn down the music on instinct. “Are you hungry?”
“Well, hello to you, too,” Lance answers amusedly, climbing in and tossing his backpack into the backseat. “What if I was actually some random stranger?”
“I have a knife in the center console.”
“That felt vaguely threatening.”
Keith laughs then, finally looking up from his phone, and maybe it’s just the sun shining through the windshield in front of him but have his eyes always been that bright? “Just answer the question.”
Lance shrugs. “I guess I could eat something.”
“That’s Lance code for ‘I’m starving and if we don’t get something to eat within the next fifteen minutes I’ll start eating your fingers’.”
“Hey! That’s not tru—” Lance’s stomach chooses this exact moment to growl loud enough to rival that of the average house cat, and his shoulders slump in defeat as Keith bursts into laughter. “Okay, okay! Maybe I’m a little hungry.”
Keith is still struggling to contain his giggles, holding up his phone. “Want me to order lunch?”
Lance perks up. “Sal’s Burgers?”
“Done.” Keith taps a button on his phone, and Lance realizes he must have been putting their usual orders in via the website when he got into the car. “We can just pick it up and take it with us.”
“You got my stuff, right?” Lance asks as Keith puts the car in gear and starts to slowly navigate his way out of the parking lot, making sure not to hit any other unconcerned college students.
“Yeah, Hunk brought it for me from y’all’s room. It’s all in the trunk. Wanna pick the music?”
Lance’s mouth quirks up into a mischievous smile. “You sure you wanna let me do that?”
Keith rolls his eyes, but he’s wearing a smile of his own. “Just take the aux cord before I change my mind.”
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
One hour in and Lance is proud to announce that he hasn’t done or said anything stupid yet, thank you very much.
Yet, being the operative word. (Blushing like a tomato while feeding Keith a few fries because he’d asked him to doesn’t count. That was all Keith’s fault, and either way he didn’t see Lance’s face, so he thinks he’s in the clear.)
Namely, something stupid like purposely blasting Carly Rae Jepsen’s I Really Like You on repeat in a desperate attempt to get the message across. Although, Keith is pretty oblivious considering the fact that he doesn’t know already, so Lance isn’t sure that Carly would do any better. He’d settled for Queen, because Queen is a safe bet and also the best bet. And if Lance grins like an idiot and spends way too much time looking at Keith and wondering what it would be like to reach across the console and shamelessly lace their fingers together while they sing their lungs out to Bohemian Rhapsody, then that’s no one else’s business.
He’s busy scrolling through his music selection to queue up more songs when Keith glances over at him. “Hey, Lance.”
Lance hums distractedly, not looking up from his phone. “Eyes on the road, buckaroo.” He can practically hear Keith rolling his eyes at him.
There’s a brief moment of silence. “I know we just ate, but we’re gonna need gas soon.”
That gets Lance’s attention. His head snaps up and Keith stifles a laugh with the back of his hand. “Gas station snack raid?”
Keith grins, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “I’m down if you are.”
“Gas station snack raid!” Lance cheers, and smiles as the sound of Keith’s laughter fills the car.
Fifteen minutes later, they’re pulling into a small gas station just off the side of the interstate. Lance shoots Hunk a quick text while Keith climbs out to fill the tank.
—
[1:34 pm] lanceroo: one hour and eighteen minutes done, one hour and forty-nine minutes to go
we just stopped for gas and snacks
[1:34 pm] hunk o’cheese: and? have you done anything stupid
your words, not mine
[1:34 pm] lanceroo: not yet, but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult
he has his hair pulled back
[1:35 pm] hunk o’cheese: oof. how are you holdin up buddy
[1:35 pm] lanceroo: the thought of holding his hand has only crossed my mind about several hundred million times so far
[1:35 pm] hunk o’cheese: you are so brave
—
Lance startles and nearly drops his phone when Keith unexpectedly opens the door, poking his head into the car. “You can go ahead inside and start picking out your snacks, if you want. I’m gonna finish filling up and then I need to call Shiro and update him on our ETA.”
“Oh! Yeah, sure. I’ll grab yours too, what do you want?”
“If I don’t get my Cheddar Jalapeño Cheetos I’ll actually die.”
Lance laughs, but he makes a mental note to pick out the biggest bag he can find. “Okay, drama queen. See you in a sec.”
He hops out of the car and makes his way to the entrance of the gas station’s small convenience store, making sure to grab his wallet from his backpack beforehand. A woman holding her child is leaving so he holds the door open for her, smiling and nodding when she thanks him and then stepping inside. He shivers slightly at the sudden change in temperature, much preferring the sunny warmth outside than the air conditioning blasting throughout the store, but he shakes it off and slips into the nearest snack aisle.
Picking out snacks is the easy part. True to his word, he grabs some Cheddar Jalapeño Cheetos for Keith and some Doritos for himself, then slips into the candy aisle to grab Sour Skittles, gummy worms, and unhealthy amounts of chocolate. The growing number of packages in his arms is pretty overkill, but a weekend is a long time for two hungry nineteen-year-olds, so he’s pretty confident that none of it will go to waste. Soon enough he finds himself standing in front of the lengthy selection of sodas and teas and coffees, intensely debating between getting orange soda or peach lemonade.
“You already had orange soda at lunch.”
Lance jumps at the sound of Keith’s voice directly behind him, nearly dropping everything in his hold. “Yeesh! Do you have to sneak up on me like that?”
“Sorry,” Keith chuckles, grabbing a few things from Lance’s snack pile to lighten his load. “You make it too easy.”
Lance sticks his tongue out at him and Keith sticks his tongue out right back. “What took you so long, anyway?”
A strange sort of look flashes across Keith’s face, but it disappears so quickly that Lance thinks he must have imagined it. “You know how chatty Shiro is.”
“Somehow I do,” Lance hums in agreement. “Even though I’ve never met him. Do you think he’ll like me?”
“Of course he will. From what I know, he was a lot like you when he was younger, actually.”
“Very charming and unbelievably handsome?”
“I was thinking something more along the lines of obnoxious, but sure.” Keith laughs and stumbles slightly when Lance bumps their shoulders together in retaliation. “Want me to choose a drink for you while you go use the restroom?”
Lance raises an eyebrow. “Who says I have to go?” Keith levels him with a deadpan look that Lance chooses not to challenge. “Okay, okay, I’m going! Hold these.” He dumps everything into Keith’s arms and hurries down the aisle toward the nearby restroom, not wanting to keep Keith waiting for too long.
He’s pretty sure he breaks his own personal record and yet by the time he comes back out, Keith is nowhere to be seen. Luckily his phone buzzes in his pocket before he wastes any time searching the aisles, and he pulls it out to find a text from Keith.
—
[1:43 pm] mullet man: i’m parked out front. hurry up
[1:43 pm] lanceroo: patience, young padawan
did you get your snacks already? where’d mine go :(
[1:43 pm] mullet man: i took care of it
[1:44 pm] lanceroo: wait huh
wym???
[1:44 pm] mullet man: come outside already!!!
[1:44 pm] lanceroo: did you pay for my snacks??????
[1:45 pm] mullet man: we’re losing daylight
[1:45 pm] lanceroo: KEITH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
—
Lance huffs at his phone and makes his way back outside, immediately spotting Keith’s car parked a few feet away and marching around to the driver's side. He knocks on the window and after a moment Keith slowly rolls it down, his expression carefully neutral. “Can I help you.”
“What the heck, Keith!” Lance throws his hands in the air, indignant. “You already paid for lunch. And gas!”
“It’s not a big deal,” Keith grumbles, his face slightly pink. It could be from the sunlight, or Lance could just be imagining it. “It’s only fair, I’m the one who asked you to come with me in the first place.”
“You planned this, didn’t you? You made me go to the bathroom so you could buy everything and I wouldn’t be there to stop you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Dios mío,” Lance sighs, ignoring Keith’s amused snort. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“You’d be surprised,” Keith mumbles.
“Huh?”
“Would you get in the car already? You’re causing a scene.”
Lance huffs—technically Keith’s the one causing a scene, since he’s the one being all cute and gentlemanly and altogether too perfect for Lance to handle—but he does as he’s told and finally goes around the car to climb back into the passenger seat. “I’ll get you back for this, you know,” he threatens light-heartedly as he straps himself in.
Keith just laughs, short and sweet. “Whatever you say, Lance.”
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
“Okay, let’s see. Favorite animal?”
“Shark. Duh. Even though they’re technically fish, but—”
“Be more specific.”
“Oh. Uhhh—the... the one shark. You know.”
“Of course I know, that’s why you’re guessing!”
“Wait! It’s like—um, the blacktip reef shark or something like that?”
“Correct. You may have a single Cheeto.”
Keith opens his mouth and Lance reaches over to pop one into his mouth, after which Keith immediately complains. “That was practically a crumb!”
“You dare question my methods?” Lance gasps dramatically. “I’m picking out Cheeto sizes depending on the difficulty of the question.”
“Easy for you to say. All your gummy worms are the same size.”
Lance shrugs. “You should’ve picked a better snack.” Keith grumbles but doesn’t complain anymore, which is how Lance knows he’s won the argument. He chuckles to himself and settles back into his seat, kicking his feet up onto the dash. “Okay, your turn.”
They’ve spent the last fifteen minutes playing their own modified version of the newlywed game (Lance tries not to think too much about that), where they basically ask questions they’ve previously discussed and therefore should know about each other. Every correct answer earns Keith a single Cheeto and Lance a single gummy worm, and at this rate they’re going to spoil their appetite for dinner because it’s a little scary how well they know each other (Lance tries really hard not to read too much into that).
“Alright, uh… do my favorite animal, I guess.”
“Hm, I might need a hint on that one. Should we ask your hippo-printed boxers?” Keith grabs a wadded napkin from the central console and throws it at Lance, who bursts into laughter. “Ew, hey! Stop throwing your spicy cheese napkins at me!”
“I give you an easy question and this is how you repay me,” Keith scowls, but there’s no real bite behind it.
Lance clicks his tongue, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard. “Fine, ask me another one.”
Keith sighs, glancing over his shoulder to switch lanes and pass a car going much too slowly in the left lane. “What was my first pet? Bonus gummy worm if you remember the name.”
“Oh, shoot. I know it was a lizard because I remember you talking about how you brought it inside from your own backyard.”
“Correct,” Keith confirms, a slight tilt to his mouth as if he’s still quite proud of himself for doing such a thing.
“But what was the name…” Lance hums, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Pretty sure you named it after some anime character. The one dude. Spike?”
“Dang. I didn’t think you’d get that one.”
Lance drops two gummy worms into his mouth at once, speaking around them. “My memory is impeccable. Ready for your next question?”
“Shoot.”
“Who’s my celebrity crush? Specifically the other one, not Taylor Swift.”
He honestly thought it was obvious—he’s pretty obnoxious about his celebrity crushes and isn’t afraid to fawn over them in the group chat—but Keith’s brow creases in that particular way it does when he’s thinking about something very carefully. Lance waits patiently, checking his phone for any new texts from Hunk and taking a quick sip of his peach lemonade. After a minute when there’s still no answer, he rustles Keith’s bag of Cheetos to get his attention.
Keith huffs, glancing over at him. “Sorry, I distracted myself. Steven Yeun, obviously.”
“Took you long enough,” Lance teases, digging a decently-sized Cheeto out of the bag and dropping it into Keith’s hand when he reaches out for it. “What’re you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” Keith says a little too quickly, and Lance raises an eyebrow at him. “Stop it. I was just—” He hesitates, shifting in his seat and adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Well. There’s something I wanted to tell you, actually.”
He seems nervous all of a sudden, shoulders stiff and eyes remaining intently on the road as he chews on his lip. Lance frowns slightly, kicking his feet back down and sitting forward. “What’s up?”
Keith seems to take another moment to think about it, opening his mouth and then hesitating like he’s not sure of what he’s about to say. It takes a minute, but at long last he sighs, glancing over at Lance and away just as quickly. “Uh… I’m the one who ate the last of your Girl Scout cookies last week.”
Lance stares at him for a solid ten seconds, unblinking. “You monster.”
And just like that, the tension melts from Keith’s shoulders and he’s laughing again, filling the car with the sound of his unabashed giggles. Lance suspects that’s not what Keith had been planning to tell him but he relaxes anyway, mostly just relieved that it must not be anything too serious if he’s still in such a good mood. Besides, they’ve been friends long enough that Lance knows he always opens up when he’s ready.
“This isn’t funny, Keith! This is the ultimate betrayal! Stealing my Samoas, of all things?”
“I’m sorry,” Keith answers, and it sounds genuine despite his chuckles. “You had already left for class, and they were just sitting there—”
“That doesn’t make them free real estate, you animal!”
“I already said I’m sorry,” Keith laughs again, and Lance swears that if he had been the one driving, he would’ve gone swerving off the road at the sight of Keith’s dimples on full display. “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
Lance would say he already has, but Keith doesn’t have to know that. So instead he just grins, and somehow he manages not to blush even a little bit when he says: “I’m holding you to that, pretty boy.”
。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆
By the time that Keith pulls into the small parking lot of Shiro’s apartment complex, the sun is still shining brightly overhead. After so many early morning road trips that don’t end until well into the night, Lance almost feels strange arriving at their destination in the middle of the afternoon.
Keith parks his car in a spot directly outside of Shiro’s apartment and turns to Lance before turning off the ignition, looking a little nervous. “It’s, uh, it’s not much, just so you know. It’s kind of small, and neither of us are very good at decorating, so… not that it’s a bad place or anything, but—just, don’t expect too much.”
Lance dips his head and peers at Keith over the rims of the plastic sunglasses he’d found in the glove box thirty minutes earlier. “Dude. You know how big my family is, rooming with Hunk is practically like having my own room after sharing one with so many people for so long. I can handle small.”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. C’mon.”
It only takes a few more minutes for them to collect their things from the trunk. Keith reasons that since they’re likely to make a mess again on the way back in a couple days, there’s no point in cleaning out their trash yet, and Lance agrees, so they gather their belongings and start making their way up the steps to Shiro’s unit. Lance struggles a bit under the weight of his backpack and two large duffel bags, and Keith snorts when he nearly trips on the very top step.
“Why did you even bring so much stuff? We’re only gonna be here for another day and a half.”
“Hey now. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from college, it’s that you have to be prepared for everything.”
Keith rolls his eyes, but he’s clearly biting back a smile as he knocks on the door.
Someone shouts at them from inside, plenty audible but entirely unintelligible. Lance questioningly glances over at Keith, who just sighs and knocks on the door again, with much more force than seems necessary. There’s a loud thump followed by some footsteps, and a moment later the door is practically flung open to reveal Shiro, looking rather flustered and fully outfitted in a KISS THE COOK apron.
“You have a key for a reason,” he says, by way of greeting.
“I didn’t feel like digging through my bag for it,” Keith shrugs, unperturbed. “And hello to you, too.”
“Don’t you ‘hello’ at me,” Shiro scoffs, pointing a large wooden spoon at him. “You knocked on purpose, you know I’m busy.”
“You can’t prove that. Also, I think something’s burning.”
Shiro swears and dashes back into the apartment, leaving both Keith and Lance still standing in the doorway. Keith looks at Lance, who has been watching the entire exchange with both amusement and bewilderment. “Date night,” he explains, then grabs one of Lance’s extra bags and lets himself inside.
Lance follows slowly behind, stepping into the narrow entry hall and gently kicking the door shut behind him. The first thing he notices are the framed pictures hung haphazardly across the walls on either side of him. Most of them are of Shiro or Keith or both—Lance makes a mental note to take a closer look later, once they’re settled in—while others include an unfamiliar man that Lance assumes must be Adam, Shiro’s boyfriend, whom he remembers Keith mentioning once or twice in passing. The next thing he notices is the smell. Something is definitely burning.
He steps out of the hall and finds himself in the small living space, complete with a comfortably worn couch, a small flat-screen TV, and a handful of movie posters tacked up here and there lit up by a few haphazard strings of Christmas lights. Keith is standing at the counter that separates the living room from the kitchen, not even trying to hide his amusement as Shiro scrambles around to save his dinner. He yanks the oven open and waves away the small plume of smoke that comes out, practically diving in with an oven mitt to retrieve the baking sheet. Lance stops at Keith’s side and they watch as Shiro drops the sheet onto the stove, waving away the rest of the smoke to see the damage. It’s a wonder the smoke alarm doesn’t go off.
Shiro’s shoulders slump after a moment and he sighs. “Adam is right. I can’t cook anything! I’m cursed.” Keith snorts and he shoots a glare over his shoulder. “Don’t laugh, this is your fault! You’re the one who distracted me!”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I thought you were cursed,” Keith points out, and Shiro grumbles to himself. “What were you trying to make?”
Shiro sighs again and turns, holding a tray of several utterly charred black lumps. “It was supposed to be baked salmon,” he says sadly.
The salmon is so charred and Shiro looks so dejected that Lance can’t help but laugh, slapping a hand over his mouth. This is when Shiro finally looks at him, eyes widening slightly as if he’s just now noticing that someone else is here. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize—you must be Lance.”
“The one and only,” Lance confirms. “Sorry for crashing your date night.”
“No worries. Looks like we’ll probably be going out tonight anyway,” Shiro grimaces, setting the baking sheet down and tossing his oven mitt onto the counter before wiping his hands on his apron and looking around. “Uh—wow, this is embarrassing. Sorry it’s such a mess, I didn’t have much time to prepare. Last minute arrangements aren’t my forte.”
An entire week’s notice doesn’t seem like a last minute arrangement to Lance, but Keith is already moving on from the conversation. “We’re gonna bring my stuff in now,” he says quickly, shooting Shiro a look that Lance can’t quite decipher. “You should probably call Adam.”
“He’s gonna be so smug about it,” Shiro groans. “Alright, I’ll be in my room. Let me know if you guys need any help.”
“We’ll be fine,” Keith insists, grabbing Lance’s arm and tugging him toward another hall that presumably leads toward the bedrooms. “C’mon, Lance.”
Lance follows without question until they reach the very end of the hall, where they turn left into Keith’s bedroom. He’s almost disappointed to find that it looks identical to Keith’s side of his dorm room, with only a few pictures and posters on the walls and books scattered everywhere, but then again he’s not sure what he was expecting. Maybe a bunch of baby photos and trinkets that would give him a glimpse into his embarrassing childhood or something. There is, however, a large empty space on the wall that looks like it’s missing something, but Lance doesn’t get the chance to ask about it before they dump their things onto Keith’s bed and head back out to the car.
It doesn’t take long for them to bring everything inside, managing to carry it all in just a couple of trips between the two of them. Most of it is books—stacks and stacks of them, Lance honestly has no clue how Keith reads so much on top of his classwork, much less has room for them in his dorm, which he supposes is why he’s bringing so many of them back home—some clothes, a few other things here and there that he doesn’t use enough to justify keeping them at school. Lance helps him put everything in its place, whether it’s stuffed in his closet or on his bookshelf or under his bed, and when it’s all said and done they stand in the middle of the room and look at each other.
“Well,” Lance says, placing his hands on his hips and looking around. “Uh… what now?”
Keith glances around too, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know, actually. I didn’t really think this far ahead.”
“Do you ever?”
“Uncalled for. Don’t make me bring up the time you tried to cook ramen on the sidewalk just for squirrels to steal it.”
“Hunk’s microwave was broken! How else was I supposed to cook it!”
Keith rolls his eyes despite the smile on his face, although it quickly fades and is replaced by a timid sort of expression, feet shuffling nervously. “I guess, since we have nothing else to do, maybe we could—I mean, if you want. I could just… drive you around? Show you the city?”
Lance lights up, his interest piqued. “Sure, that sounds fun! I’m in.” Keith opens his mouth to answer, looking relieved, then stops short when Lance continues. “Under one condition. We take your motorcycle.”
Keith blinks, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face. “As if there was any other option.”