The third part of the Cinnamon Bagels and Peppermint Tea Series, in which Lance owns a cute marketplace bakery, and Shiro tries his damn best to make sure his delinquent brother knows about it. Alternative Title: Shiro is the ultimate wingman and Keith has a gay crisis.
For anyone who remembers this piece, I’ve decided to continue this AU (click here for part 2)! Read the full piece below the bar, or @/sleapea on ao3 or instagram 💕
Shiro was standing in the kitchen, coffee in hand, when Keith stormed into their living room. The room was dim, aglow with the light from the setting sun and nothing else.
Even in the fading light, the first thing Shiro noticed was that Keith looked… more put together than usual, to say the least. Shiro immediately dismissed the storming… that was the usual for Keith. But wearing his hair in a neat braid down the side of his neck, rather than his usual, messy bun? Now that was new. So was wearing a nice pair of black jeans and a grey, fitted crew neck instead of a hoodie and sweatpants. And, by the astonishing lack of wrinkles, Shiro could tell that they were from his closet, not his bedroom floor. The last time he saw Keith this neat, it had been at their mother’s second wedding. Two years ago.
He watched intently, knowing full well that Keith was pointedly ignoring him. He remained quiet as Keith shrugged on his leather jacket by the front door, and as he laced up his boots. It was only when Keith turned to face the door and wrapped his hand around the doorknob that Shiro asked: “Where are you going?”
Keith flinched, hand pausing around the knob. He slowly looked over his shoulder, expression guarded. Shiro grinned.
“To the bakery,” he grumbled.
Shiro shifted so that he could prop his hip against the kitchen counter. When he was comfortable, he took a long, slow sip of coffee. Under his unwavering gaze, Keith began to squirm, a small flush creeping up his cheeks. If Shiro didn’t know any better, he’d almost say that his baby brother looked sheepish.
“Do you… want anything?”
“Oh, no, no. I’m good,” Shiro answered casually. He waved him off, took another slow sip of his coffee. Keith prickled.
“What do you want?” he snapped. As usual, Keith didn’t try to hide how annoyed he was. Although, Shiro didn’t think Keith could hide how he felt, even if he did want to.
Either way, as usual, Shiro ignored it.
“Hmm? Nothing,” he shrugged, expression neutral.
“Shiro,” Keith deadpanned, finally taking his hand from the knob and turning to fully face his brother. “I’ve known you my entire life,” he paused, taking the time to breathe in heavy, collect himself. Then, he crossed his arms and raised a frustrated brow, exhaling as he levelled him with a stare. “I know when you’re full of shit.”
“Easy there, cowboy,” Shiro chuckled. He raised his mug to his lips again, but paused before taking a sip, as if deep in thought. “How many times have you gone to the bakery this week, Keith?” Keith’s eyes widened, like the question caught him off guard.
“...why?” he asked slowly.
“Humour me.”
Keith narrowed his eyes at him, holding his gaze. Shiro met his eyes easily, amused smile on his face all the while. It never took long for Keith to crack— usually, his impatience or his curiosity had him caving right… about...
Keith broke their eyes with a loud huff, an exaggerated eye roll. “Fine, you win,” he mumbled, cheeks flushed and frustrated. Shiro tried to stifle his laugh behind his mug, but if the glare Keith shot him was anything to go by, he didn’t do a very good job.
“I went on Monday… after finishing a commission,” he began tentatively, gaze shifting in concentration. “Tuesday when you worked late, because I didn’t feel like making dinner. Then… again on Wednesday becau—”
“Keith,” Shiro cut him off with an amused chuckle. "How many times?”
Keith let out a frustrated sigh and shot him a look, but Shiro merely laughed. Frowning, Keith began to count on his fingertips. “1, 2, 3…” he mumbled under his breath “...6?”
“What day is it today?” Shiro prodded. Keith paused.
“...Thursday?”
Shiro nodded, but kept quiet. Patiently, he waited until...
Keith’s eyes widened as the lightbulb flicked on.
“That’s way too many times, isn’t it…” Keith began, entirely to himself. He instantly took to pacing back and forth, back and forth, like he was trying to run a small line into the floor. “Holy shit. What does he think of me? Is that weird?” He stared down at the ground in horror for a moment before bursting aloud. “Who eats that many bagels, of course it’s weird!”
Shiro simply watched, content to let Keith talk this one out himself.
“I definitely shouldn’t go. You’re right, yeah, no way,” Keith continued, decidedly. He was silent for all of 5 seconds before he slumped, the reality of what he’d just resolved sinking in. “But… I want to see him,” he whispered, face fallen. He looked just like a kicked puppy.
“And the truth comes out,” Shiro laughed. His little brother was so smitten— it was sweet, if Shiro was being honest.
“What did you do??” Keith whirled on him then, eyes wide and questioning.
“Pardon me?” Shiro asked, stunned.
“What did you do with Allura?”
Shiro blushed, caught off guard for the first time that evening. “Oh, uh… that was a long time ago.” He tried to laugh light-heartedly, but it sounded more like a strangled cough than anything else. “Mmm… yeah. I’m pretty old. Can’t seem to remember.” Without missing a beat, he glanced down at the underside of his wrist. “Wow, look at the time. Better head to bed…”
He wasn’t wearing a watch.
“Shiro! Come on,” Keith whined, features morphing into his signature “Shiro caves every time I make this face” expression. And, he was right. Shiro did cave every time he made that expression.
Shiro groaned.
“You already know the story!” He appealed, a little indignant.
“Humour me.” Keith shot back, and Shiro flinched. Oh, how he hated it when his own tricks were used against him.
“I miss when you used to be cute, you know? Like when you were really small. And couldn’t talk,” he sighed, defeated.
“Shiro…”
“FINE. Fine,” he relented. “But only because I’m an adult who is mature now.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Psh, yeah. Okay.”
Shiro narrowed his eyes at Keith, but all his little brother did was shrug. Shiro huffed, took to pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He tried his best to act annoyed, but he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face.
When he was a senior in highschool, Shiro had been captain of the boy’s soccer team. Allura had been captain of the girl’s team. They’d hardly known each other until Shiro caught word that one of his freshmen had been heckling the girl’s team after practice.
To this day, Shiro isn’t quite sure how it happened. Somehow, the girl’s team ended up challenging the boys to a friendly match, an opportunity to put their money where their mouths were. And, Shiro could hardly refuse, given it had been his rookie who prompted the match in the first place.
The girl’s team ended up winning 3 - 2. Shiro will never forget the way Allura handled the ball, knocking him right off his feet, literally and figuratively, to score the winning goal. To this day, her graceful footwork was something he still marvelled every time he watched her play.
“I… well, you know how the match went,” Shiro said, and Keith snorted. Shiro elbowed him in the side before continuing, as though Keith hadn't interrupted. “Pretty hard to… look cool after someone knocks you down like that.”
Keith scowled as he rubbed at his side, but his eyes remained attentive.
“I went up to her after the match and asked her to prom.”
“Right there?”
Shiro smiled at the fond memory. “Right there,” he nodded.
“Right after she kicked your ass?”
“She didn't kick my ass—”
“She still said yes?”
“Well, first she laughed so hard she choked on her gatorade…”
“I can’t believe this worked out for you,” Keith mumbled.
“Me neither,” Shiro laughed, “but… she liked that, I guess. Said most guys would have been walking away with their tails between their legs by now. Which, they were. The rest of the team.” Shiro laughed to himself, expression gone completely soft. Keith made a face that he pretended not to notice.
“That didn’t help me at all,” he frowned, glaring at his brother as if his current predicament was entirely his fault. Which… in a way, it was.
“You wanted to know!” Shiro instantly sputtered, indignant.
“I thought you’d be more useful!” Keith snapped back, and Shiro felt downright scandalized. He gaped in the silence that fell over them both as Keith took to pouting, arms crossed and brows comically furrowed.
“Hmm, well, if I'm not useful, I guess I’ll just keep this next part to myself,” he spoke slowly as the thought hit him, grinning at Keith as his little brother perked his head up.
“What next part…?” He asked, tentative. It was hopeful, despite the lingering pout he wore.
“The part where I met Lance’s sister this week,” Shiro admitted, grin turning from playful to downright devilish as Keith’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“WHAT— and you didn’t tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d…” he waved a hand, gesturing to Keith and his current state. His face was flushed a deep red, the heat dispersed in messy patches across his neck and cheeks. His eyes were still comically wide, and his body was wound taut like a spring. “Freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out!” Keith blurted, tone loud and splintering at the edges.
“Obviously.”
“Shiro,” Keith whined. He didn't say anything more aloud, but his eyes were practically screaming "help me." And, oh, he was making the face again.
“She’s worried about him,” he looked down at his mug as he spoke, raised it to his lips. Immediately, he made a face— to his dismay, his coffee had gone cold. He set his mug down on the counter with a frown. So much for enjoying a nice, relaxing cup of coffee after dinner.
“Worried, why?” Keith drew him back to the present with his quick response. His posture had completely deflated, all anger having dissipated into genuine concern.
“She says he works too hard. Hardly ever leaves the bakery,” he continued, and Keith’s frown deepened.
“Oh...” he whispered.
“Yeah. She wishes he’d…” Shiro paused, contemplating for a moment. “Take more time for himself.” Keith looked utterly defeated, expression alight with worry. Shiro, on the other hand...
“Why… are you smiling?” Keith accused. He asked the question like he didn’t want to hear the answer. Of course, Shiro provided it anyway.
“I told her we could help,” he said simply.
“We can?” Keith blinked, incredulous.
“Well, I told her you could help,” Shiro reached out a finger and lightly poked Keith in the centre of his chest.
“Me?” Keith choked, staring down at Shiro’s hand in disbelief. “How am I supposed to—”
“Take him out this Saturday,” Shiro cut him off quickly, knowing his brother’s propensity to panic spiral. Keith looked like a boiling kettle, flushed and steaming and ready to—
“WHAT!” he burst. Shiro shrugged, doing his best to feign nonchalance.
“The bakery will be closed. She said Lance should have a free day,” Shiro explained, doing his best to stay casual for the sake of his brother’s quickly fading sanity. “You can help him clear his mind.”
“Why would Lance want to go anywhere with me?” Keith mumbled under his breath. Shiro sighed.
“Do you want to help him?” Keith looked up at him in surprise. His expression was earnest and genuine, making him look like a little kid again.
“Of course I do, but—”
“No buts. Do you want to help him, or not?” At that, Keith’s brows creased, and he flushed a little deeper.
“Yeah…” he averted his eyes, speaking to the fridge instead of Shiro. It didn’t matter, Shiro had what he needed.
Summary: “Alright. Why do you keep telling me all of this stuff about Lance, then?” He huffed in frustration, the conversation beginning to feel a lot like pulling teeth. Shiro looked up at the mention of Lance’s name, a coy smile playing at his lips as he popped a piece of broccoli into his mouth. Keith stared, utterly lost.“
Just seems like an interesting guy is all.” He ate with a cheeriness Keith couldn’t place, like he was up to something. But for the life of him Keith couldn’t figure out what it was, and he had his upcoming commissions to focus on, so he let it go and continued to eat. If he had to listen about Lance in order to keep eating his bagels, he resigned, it was a small price to pay.
_____
Lance owns a cute marketplace bakery, and Shiro tries his damn best to make sure his delinquent brother knows about it. Alternative Title: Shiro is the ultimate wingman and Keith has a gay crisis
So I wrote a thing for my friend @joker-ace inspired by @tetramancer and their lovely artwork. It is not the best thing but it had a lot of heart put into it so I hope you enjoy!
The thing that Lance loved most about baking were the smells. In his mind there was nothing better than starting the morning off with the smell of fresh bread wafting in the air. He sighed as he pulled out the fresh loaf of garden tomato bread and was transported back to his abuela’s garden. He had loved just laying out in the sun, the smell that he could only describe as crisp freshness surrounding him.
He laid the loaf on a cooling rack, took off his oven mitts and untied his apron. The puff pastries weren't ready just yet so he had some time to bum around.
“Ah, Lance that smells absolutely lovely,” Allura called out as she pushed the swinging doors open. She took a deep breathe and gave Lance a grateful smile as he grabbed one of the two heavy produce boxes from her arms.
“Thanks Allura I’m just waiting for it to cool down before I put it in the front”.
“It’s just as well, I think today will be one of the slower ones.” Lance nodded in agreement, Thursdays were always slow for some reason. As they put the produce in the refrigerator Lance froze. Allura looked at him worried.
“Lance are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, it’s just...”
“What?” Lance’s lips began to stretch into a smile the wobbled with barely concealed mirth.
“Allura if you were a vegetable, you would be a CUTEcumber!” Lance yelled brandishing one of the cucumbers from the fridge. Allura screamed in mock outrage before whacking Lance with a carrot.
“Why did I ever hire you?” Allura asked between giggles, still trying to get at Lance.
“Because of my beautiful face of course!” Lance screamed as he tried to avoid the huge carrot Allura wielded like a club.
“I’m pretty sure it was because I asked her to.”
Lance grinned happily as his bestest bro came through the doors. He ran towards Hunk before jumping into his already waiting arms. Pidge who he just noticed was trailing behind Hunk rolled her eyes at him. Lance stuck his tongue at them before turning back towards Hunk.
“Hunk! Dude you’re late! What’s with?” Hunk shrugged before placing Lance gently back on his feet.
“Me and Pidge ran into Shiro on the way and we stopped to talk. Did you know his brother is in town?”
Lance would swear everyday after that Allura’s eyes had become bigger than her head when she heard the news.
“What! He’s here early? I thought that I would have more time to prepare!” Lance looked at her quizzically.
“Haven’t you guys already met? Why are you so nervous?” Allura whirled on him so fast he was surprised that she didn’t have whiplash.
“Yes, but that was a quick dinner when he came to visit! He’s going to move here to work in Shiro’s parlour. What if he doesn’t like me once we actually have to spend more time together?”
Allura looked so worried that Lance almost felt bad for breaking into hysterical laughter. Almost. Besides Hunk and Pidge were doing it too.
“What? Why are you laughing?!” Lance weakly pushed up from where he had doubled over laughing. He tried to get his giggles under control before clearing his throat and staring straight at Allura.
“Allura you're the smartest person I know-”
“Hey!” Pidge shouted.
“You're the second smartest person I know,” he saw Pidge nod in approval, “but if you think he isn’t going to absolutely adore you once he gets to know you then you're pretty stupid.”
Allura’s face calmed into a kind of sheepish happiness. She looked towards Hunk and Pidge who both shrugged.
“He’s right you know,” Pidge said adjusting their glasses. Hunk nodded his head in agreement. Allura moved to look at Lance again, who had a smug look on his face. Just this once she would let him keep it.
“Thank you Lance”. Lance would have told her that he was just telling her the truth if a little alarm hadn’t started to ring.
“Oh the pastries are done! Hunk can you take out the bread while I get these out?”
“Sure, no problem”
As Hunk took the bread to the front Allura and Pidge took the time to change into their uniforms. Pidge was their resident barista and was strangely possessive of the role. Lance was pretty sure it was because they were in love with the fancy coffee machines they had helped build. Well that and they had access to unlimited cups of coffee. It was a mystery how they hadn’t died yet.
Lance put on his mitts and pulled the pastries out of the oven, taking a deep breath to savor their sweet strawberry smell.
“Breads in the display case. I’m gonna start on the cookies now, unless you need anything else Lance?”
“Nah bud, I got these.”
Lance made his way to the front of the store carefully holding the tray. He was in front of the counter when he heard the door chime open. He turned, huge smile in place to greet the first customer of the day.
“Hey! Welcome to Alteaaaaaaa...”
Is this what having a stroke feels like? I think it is. Am I really having a stroke because a gorgeous guy walked through the door?
As if he could somehow hear Lance’s thoughts Gorgeous guy swept his hand through his hair, showing off his muscles and the ink adorning them.
Yep, I am definitely having a stroke. Lance vaguely heard what seemed like Allura’s voice yelling at him, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Lance! Not the pastries!” At the word pastries Lance sprang back to consciousness, only to find half of his lovingly baked sweets littering the floor.
“Ahhh!” Lance put the tray on the counter and hurriedly started picking up the stray sweets, a red flush quickly making it’s way up his entire face.
Great now gorgeous guy is going to think that you're an idiot! Way to screw up your chance before you even had one!
A pale hand was suddenly holding a pastry in front of his face. Lance’s almost fell backwards from shock. He looked up to see Gorgeous guy still holding the pastry, one eyebrow now quirked up in confusion.
“Uh, are you okay?”
“Huh?” Lance answered dumbly. Seriously real smooth lance, ugh!
“Oh! Uh, yeah thank you.” Lance softly grabbed the pastry from the guy’s hand. He almost felt like the princess in one of those cheesy bargain bin fairytale cartoons. He might have said something else if Allura hadn’t started shrieking in what Lance guessed was surprise and joy.
“Keith! I wasn’t expecting to see you!” Allura sprinted towards the man, who Lance now knew as Keith, and wrapped him in a hug so strong Keith’s legs were actually lifted off the floor.
“Wow, I did not know you were that strong,” Keith said as he tentatively returned the hug. Allura blushed a little before setting him down.
“Not many people realize how many muscles you build up kneading dough,” Allura said proudly flashing one of her ripped arms.
“Huh you're right I didn’t really think of that. Um I just came to pick up some coffee for me and Shiro before we open the shop.”
“Oh of course! Pidge get Shiro’s regular and... how do you take your coffee Keith?”
“Black.”
“One large black!”
“Coming up!”
While Keith waited for his coffee Lance took the chance to drop some of the pastries that hadn’t fell on the floor into a take out box. He took one last passing glance at Keith, took a deep breathe and walked towards him.
“Um, hi.” Keith stared at Lance quizzically, probably wondering why Lance had come over.
“Hi.” Lance took another steadying breath before pushing the box into Keith’s chest. Keith grabbed it out of what Lance assumed was instinct.
“Uh as a thank you for helping me clean up that mess.” Keith frowned at him.
“You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t really do much-”
“It’s the thought that counts. Besides you can also think of it as a welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Lance by the way.”
Lance stuck out his hand towards Keith who spent about half a minute staring at it as if his hand was going to bite him. He eventually reached out and clasped his hand around Lance’s, pumping it firmly before quickly yanking it back towards his side. Lance awkwardly did the same. Thank god he was saved by Allura telling Keith that his coffee order was ready.
Lance walked towards the display and started setting up the display with the remaining pastries that were left.
“Um Lance?” Lance whipped his head up at the sound of Keith’s voice. His was looking at Lance in what would have been a kinda scarily intense way, if it wasn’t for the way he was awkwardly shuffling around the rest of his body.
“I’ll uh, I hope I see you around.” Lance was pretty sure his jaw was breaking he was was smiling so wide.
“Yeah, I’ll see you around man”.
Keith gave a awkward little smile and half wave before walking out the door. Lance watched until he was out of eyeshot before swooning onto the floor.
Meanwhile at the Black Lion Tattoo Parlor
Shiro was calmly setting up for the day, making sure the inks and supplies were out and cleaned. He yawned wondering when Keith would get back with the coffee. Then again knowing his girlfriend she might have kept him there a little while longer so they could talk.
He was glad Keith had decided to come work for him, it would make things a lot calmer.
Suddenly the door was almost knocked off of its hinges as Keith came barreling in like a hurricane.
“Whoa Keith! Calm down! Where’s the fire?” Shiro looked down at his little brother whose face almost blended with the ink that was crawling up his neck.
“And why are you so red?”
At that Keith looked up and fixed him with what was perhaps the most intense look he had ever seen on his face.
“There’s an angel in the bakery and his name is Lance.”
The second part of Cinnamon Bagels and Peppermint Tea, in which Lance owns a cute marketplace bakery, and Shiro tries his damn best to make sure his delinquent brother knows about it. Alternative Title: Shiro is the ultimate wingman and Keith has a gay crisis.
For anyone who remembers this piece, I’ve decided to continue this AU! Read the full piece below the bar, or @/sleapea on ao3 or instagram ✨
“Ver, what’s that look for?” Lance asked, back facing his sister as he balanced atop a small step stool. He didn’t turn around to face her, instead, he continued to focus on his writing, letting his chalk glide neat and curved against the chalkboard menu hanging from the back wall of his shop. Today’s Special.
Besides, he didn’t need to turn around to know what kind of expression she was making— it was the same expression she’d been wearing for the past 15 minutes as she watched him open up shop, arms folded and leaning against the top of the display case behind him.
“What look?” she asked simply, coating her voice in sugar as if she hadn’t a clue what he meant. He scoffed, and Veronica hummed a sweet, inquisitive note, like his annoyance amused her.
“Ver,” he levelled, eyes still glued to the board as he leaned back to study his work. Dulce de Leche Cheesecake.
He frowned at it, as if it was his looping cursive that was causing him grief and not his stubborn older sister.
Deeming his writing acceptable with a small nod, he stepped down from his perch and tucked the stool into a cupboard below the countertop. Then, he rose back up, finally turning to face his sister in a flourish. Promptly, he reached forward and pressed the pad of his index finger lightly against the obvious crease in her brow.
“This one,” he said, withdrawing his hand with a chuckle. Veronica looked nothing short of taken aback as he studied the white fingerprint he left between her brows.
“If you want to say something, just say it,” he shrugged, brushing his hands against his apron to rid his fingers of extra chalk dust. He flicked his eyes up to her forehead and back down again, a slow smile spreading his lips. “And, sorry, but I might have gotten some chalk on your forehead.”
Veronica huffed, breaking from her daze to hastily rub at her forehead with the back of her sleeve. Lance tried and failed to stifle a laugh, turning his attention to wiping the counters as Veronica took to glaring daggers in his direction. The counters could use a quick cleaning anyway, he reasoned; no matter how many times he wiped the surfaces in here, they always seemed to be covered in a thin layer of flour.
“Lance…” She said, and he could hear the frown in her voice.
“Yes, dear sister?” He asked, keeping his tone light and airy. He continued cleaning without pause, as if he hadn’t the faintest idea as to why she was really here. God, they really were related.
Ever since he’d taken over the bakery, it had become routine for Veronica to stop by at least twice a week and hang around as he opened up shop. She claimed it was simply to keep him company, but Lance knew better— Ver never did anything, bless her heart, without a motive, and Lance knew she didn’t miss him that much. It was that, as well as the fact that she always arrived bright and early with a bag full of food— pastries, fruits, homemade meals— anything and everything, that gave her away. This had mamá McClain written all over it.
Today, she’d brought him a bag full of his mamá’s homemade empanadillas along with enough servings of ropa vieja with rice to feed a small army. Although he worked around food for a living, his mamá was still somehow convinced that he’d starve.
Veronica sighed from behind him, but otherwise remained silent. The clock on the wall ticked an entire minute before Lance stilled, turning to meet her gaze with a questioning one of his own.
“You look tired,” her expression softened as she spoke. Lance flinched.
“Ouch.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she rolled her eyes at him, but Lance didn’t miss the way the corner of her mouth quirked like she was trying to hold back a smile. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Of course,” he supplied without hesitation. Still, she looked unconvinced. He ignored it, returning his attention to the remainder of the unwiped countertop.
“Leandro…” she coaxed, and for a second, he felt like he was back at home.
“Hey,” he snapped, attention instantly back on his sister. “Don’t go acting like mamá, you know I’ll cave.” Ver really wasn’t letting it go today.
“Yeah, that’s the point,” she smiled, sly, and Lance tried to keep his expression neutral as he set down his cloth in favour of turning toward the shelf at his back. He surveyed the shelf before lifting a large mug from its surface. It was pink and blue, the colours melting together like cotton candy, shiny glaze glinting in the soft light of the shop. He turned it over in his hands a few times, appreciating its shine with a small smile. Veronica hummed from behind him, this time inquisitive, but he paid her no mind.
He took his time dispensing water into the mug so that he could watch the steam swirl from its mouth in hot, lazy puffs. Once the mug was full to the brim, he plucked a cinnamon apple tea bag from his supply, her favourite, and set it into the water. When he turned to hand her the mug, she eyed him warily, but took it nonetheless.
“Now who’s acting like mamá,” she whispered, and Lance couldn’t help but laugh. He even managed to draw a small smile from Ver as she stared into her mug, watching as the tea slowly seeped into the water, painting it a dark, cider red. Lance did nothing but wait as she raised the warm mug to her lips and took to softly blowing over the top to cool it down.
Finally, his sister sighed. “Mamá’s just worried about you,” she started, chewing at her bottom lip. “Actually… we all are. You haven’t visited home in over a month.” Now, it was his turn to sigh.
“I’m fine Ver, really. Just a little busy,” he crossed his arms and leaned against the back counter. From this angle, he could see that the marketplace was slowly beginning to fill with morning customers through the large window at the front of the store. “You know it’s no problem for me to run this place by myself.”
“Of course not,” she immediately supplied, before deflating slightly. “You’re just like papá.” Lance stiffened at the mention of his father, bit at the inside of his cheek. Ver continued on like she hadn’t noticed. “But... we want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too.” He’d heard this conversation before, as a child, sitting at a table in the bakery, legs swinging below him, too short to touch the floor. “Cariño,” his mamá had said, “You’re working too hard. You need to take care of yourself.”
“Ver, honestly,” he huffed, exasperated, raising his arms in defeat. “I close late one night and you act like it’s the end of the world!”
“Wait…” she brought the mug up to her lips once again, but this time, she paused to raise an eyebrow. “You closed late last night? What time did you get home?” She blew at her tea, the steam dispersing into the air in short whirls.
“Around 11:30–”
“11:30?! Lance—” Her voice faded to the back of his mind as he zeroed in on a familiar figure just outside the shop. Without a second thought, he began to move. “Wait, what are you—”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal,” he brushed as he rounded the counter, eyes still focused outside the shop. He passed the small set of swinging doors that separated the main area of his shop from the back, and began to walk towards the front door with a smile.
“Hey, Shiro!” He swung the door open, smiling wide as Shiro turned to face him.
“Lance!” Shiro’s surprise quickly melted as he saw him, transforming into a bright smile of his own. “Good morning.” Although the marketplace was indoors, the airy space was often chilled with customers coming in and out. Lance took in Shiro’s figure— he was scantily dressed for this time of year, wearing nothing but a thin coat and gloves. Lance tsked under his breath.
“You look cold. Want to come in?”
“Oh, no, I can wait! I know you don’t open for another 10 minutes—”
“Oh, hush,” Lance cut him off immediately. “Come in.” It wasn’t a question. He quickly moved to the side, gesturing for Shiro to step inside the shop.
Shiro huffed, but relented with a smile. “Thanks, Lance,” he conceded, “I appreciate it.” He stepped into the warm, sweet air of the bakery with a contented sigh, and Lance couldn’t help the pleased smile that spread across his face.
“No problem. It’s the least I can do for someone out saving the city,” Lance said cheerily, letting the front door slide shut. Shiro scoffed at the comment. “Late call?” He started walking toward the back counter, ushering for Shiro to follow him into the store.
“Yeah... I figured I’d stop by on my way back,” Shiro followed without question, absorbed in his train of thought. Then, he smiled something sly. “Thanks for keeping my brother company last night.” Lance chuckled, waving him off with a small flick of his wrist.
“No problem at all,” he turned to Shiro, pretended to miss the way Shiro’s face lit up at his easy admission. “It was fun. He had... a lot to say about you.”
“I’m sure he did,” Shiro laughed, full-bodied and warm as they reached the back counter. For about the 100th time, Lance appreciated how close Shiro and Keith were, and how fondly they spoke of each other.
Speaking of siblings...
“Is that why you closed shop so late?” Veronica interrupted, causing both Lance and Shiro to startle.
Luckily, Lance was quick to recover. He cleared his throat, shot Veronica a look as she patiently sipped her tea. Her stance was all too casual as she leaned against the display, hip propped against its surface. “Ver, this is one of my regulars, Shiro. Shiro, this is my sister, Veronica.” He gestured between the two, bowing slightly in theatrics before stepping behind the counter. She shot him a look, one that Shiro either missed or was polite enough to pretend not to notice. Lance suspected it was the latter.
“Nice to meet you, Veronica,” He said, offering his hand. She observed him quietly, taking in the polite tone of his voice, his firm, gentle grip as she accepted his handshake. The palm of his hand was rough and calloused, but the handshake was warm. Despite having a strong jaw and large scar across the bridge of his nose, he smiled large and sweet. Veronica hummed under her breath, smiled at him in earnest.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“I didn’t know he kept you late,” Shiro turned his attention back to Lance with a slight frown. Lance shrugged, smiling still as he handed Shiro a black coffee.
“Black, right?” This time, the mug he chose was a deep, forest green.
“Yeah. Thanks, Lance. It smells great,” Lance beamed at the compliment, brushing Shiro off with another small wave. “I’m a big boy, I can handle a late night or two.” Veronica made a low noise of protest, but Lance ignored her. “Besides, as I said, it was fun.” A different sort of smile crept onto his features then, expression softening at the memory. The bakery fell completely silent, both Veronica and Shiro raising their brows in tandem. With a small shake of his head, Lance slowly came back into himself. “Anyway… I’m going to go see if the muffins are done.”
Lance didn’t notice the look Veronica and Shiro exchanged as he turned to leave the room, nor the quiet “I haven’t seen that expression in awhile,” his sister whispered under her breath. But, as he reappeared around the corner, he did notice that both of them were, very clearly, eyeing him.
“Another five minutes and they should be ready...” he said, tentative, quirking a brow in their direction. “What, do I have something on my face?”
“No,” Shiro smiled wide before tipping back his mug for a long 5 seconds. He finished his coffee with vigor, set his mug back down on the counter with a loud, pleased sigh.
“Perfect, as usual,” Veronica added with a wink. A wink. He made a face, something between surprise and disgust, and Veronica almost choked on her tea as she took a sip.
“Alright… what’s going on?” He set his hands on his hips, levelling them both with his best mamá Mcclain, no nonsense stare.
“Veronica just offered to show me around the marketplace,” Shiro said, nonchalant. “Still haven’t had a chance to explore the whole thing since moving in.”
“Ver did?” Lance repeated, incredulous. “My sister?” he pointed for effect, “The one standing right there?” Veronica’s expression was so indignant that he had to choke back a laugh.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did,” she clipped, turning away from Lance with a loud huff. “Come on Shiro, let’s go.” She spoke his name with a surprising amount of familiarity, given that they’d met just 5 minutes prior.
Shiro did nothing but smile, turning to face Lance with a small shrug. “See you later, Lance. Thanks again for the coffee.” He promptly turned to follow Veronica, who froze at the doorway just to send him a look over her shoulder. “Be sure to eat what I brought, I’ll be back Thursday with more.” Before Lance had time to protest, Shiro and Veronica were already gone, the door sliding shut behind them with a tiny click.
Lance owns a cute marketplace bakery, and Shiro tries his damn best to make sure his delinquent brother knows about it. Alternative Title: Shiro is the ultimate wingman and Keith has a gay crisis.
Lance
Out of all the regular customers that frequented his bakery, Lance hadn’t met one as peculiar as the man he’d come to know as Shiro.
There was the little old lady who always visited early in the morning for a fresh croissant, often keeping him company with an endless stream of chatter as he opened. The owner of the deli across the indoor marketplace always appeared around lunch to order whatever Lance had on special, whether it be something simple or a new recipe Lance had been experimenting with. The small, single person table in the back corner of the store was almost always occupied by the same local college student, who’d sit for hours and hours typing away and ordering nothing but black coffee. Before his exams, Lance had slipped him a donut for good luck. He’d passed with flying colours.
But Shiro was different. Lance had first seen him about a month ago, and was instantly struck by his appearance. He was tall and muscular with a strong jaw and rough features. Most noticeably, his arms were ravaged with several large scars that had healed white and jagged in long strokes. Most of the indoor market’s customers were fairly average and local, and to be frank, Shiro looked like he was from another world. It wasn’t only his appearance that Lance noticed as out of the ordinary, but his behaviour as well. After his first visit, Shiro began to stop by several times a week. Unlike Lance’s usual regulars who visited routinely and in predictable intervals, Shiro came sporadically. Sometimes he’d rush through the door just as Lance opened, and others he’d catch him just before he was about to close up for the day. Regardless of when he came in, he always ordered the same thing: a toasted cinnamon bagel, one half covered in cream cheese and the other in butter, and a medium peppermint tea. He never once saw Shiro eat it.
“The usual?” The door of the bakery opened with the soft tinkling of a bell, Lance spying the familiar face from the corner of his eye. It was about a half-hour to close and, with the amount of customers quickly thinning, he’d recently began cleaning up shop.
“Yes, thank you.” By now, he was used to Shiro’s voice. It was always soft and polite, although it had a certain ring of authority to it. Somehow, it always managed to sound reassuring. Lance set down the cloth he’d been using to wipe the counters and began prepping his order.
“You ever going to get tired of eating the same thing?” Lance hummed, looking up from his quick work to raise a single brow in Shiro’s direction.
“Oh no, definitely not. He’s been eating the same thing since he was 6.” He chuckled and leaned one hip against the bakery counter separating him and Lance, a fondness creeping into his expression and softening his features.
“He?” Lance’s curiosity piqued. They’d had several conversations about Lance himself, mostly about the bakery, but he’d never once heard Shiro offer up a piece of information about himself.
“Oh!” He brought a fist up to cover his mouth in an attempt to stifle another laugh. “I haven’t mentioned him yet. All of these orders have been for my brother, Keith.”
“Hmm.” Lance contemplated for a moment, spreading cream cheese over the top portion of the bagel. “Is he part of the reason you decided to move out here?”
“Yes, actually.” Shiro settled once again against the counter, crossing his arms as he relaxed. “After I told him about my job offer in the city, he jumped at the chance to come with me. He just finished art school, I think he’s looking for more opportunities.” Lance finished packing up his order, handing him the usual neatly wrapped bagel and steaming cup of tea.
“That’s nice.” A warm, genuine smile spread across Lance’s face, revealing two small dimples. “Family should stick together.” Shiro had hit his soft spot; family had always been important to him, and he couldn’t control the fondness from creeping into his expression at the mention of it. Shiro beamed, returning his smile with one of his own, big and excited and slightly… mischievous? Before Lance could process his reaction, Shiro had already placed money in his palm.
“Keep the change!” Shiro called from behind his back, quickly leaving the store with a skip in his step and a bemused Lance in his wake.
Keith
The first time Shiro brought him a cinnamon bagel from Lance’s bakery, Keith was lying on the floor of their new apartment surrounded by unpacked boxes and crumpled newspaper.
He continued to lay motionless as he heard Shiro’s footsteps approaching their unit from the outside hallway. He didn’t stir when he heard the click of the door unlocking, or when Shiro walked inside. It was only when Shiro nonchalantly tossed a warm package across the room, landing on top of his stomach and square above his bellybutton, that Keith turned his head to look at his brother.
“Breakfast.” Shiro shrugged, responding to Keith’s raised brow. “I also brought you some tea.” He watched as Shiro weaved through the maze of piled boxes the movers had carelessly placed, easily reaching the kitchen counter and setting down the steaming cup. Being a firefighter had its perks, one of them being the ability to move and coordinate a large, muscled body with inhuman grace. “You’re lucky that I remember to feed you, or else you’d starve.”
Keith huffed, sitting up slowly with a long, drawn out breath. He stretched his arms up high above his head, letting the paper bag roll down his stomach and fall into his lap as he straightened. He flinched as a strip of unexpected morning sunlight caught his eye, vision turning spotty. They’d both spent the entire night unpacking, but only Shiro had managed to keep track of the time. How Shiro was always able to remain awake and aware was beyond Keith, and he’d stopped trying to understand his brother’s innate and God-like ability to completely Have His Shit Together™ long ago. Which is why he didn’t question him any further as he reached for the package in his lap, heavy lidded and in a sleep deprived haze. He shivered as he took the paper bag in his hands, its absence leaving his lap feeling empty and cold. With clumsy fingers he unwrapped his breakfast, and without pausing to question what it might be, took his first bite. Immediately, his eyes fluttered wide. A warm flush of pleasure crept up his neck and warmed his cheeks as he began to chew.
“Oho,” Shiro cooed from across the room “Looks like Mr. Picky actually likes his breakfast.” Keith scoffed, crumpling up the bagel wrappings and launching them across the room. His aim was perfect, but so was his brother’s ability to dodge. Shiro side stepped the throw and caught the empty package with ease, shooting Keith a cocky grin that he returned with a scowl. Shiro answered with a light-hearted laugh, grabbing Keith’s tea and heading over to join him at his makeshift newspaper picnic.
The second time Shiro brought him a bagel, he set it down next to him without a word. The small action startled him, tearing him away from his work and bringing him sharply back to reality. It took Keith a moment to adjust, vision blurry from staring for too long at his laptop.
“You haven’t eaten yet today.” Shiro stated, matter of fact.
“I…what?” Half of Keith’s focus was still swimming in the colours and swirls on his computer screen, hands still poised to draw. He’d spent the entirety of the day working on overdue art commissions, completely sinking into his work and losing track of time. He leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to adjust to his surroundings. The sun, which had been high above the horizon when Keith had started work, was now setting, painting the room with vibrant pinks and reds. He slowly came back into his body, the hunger that was once distant now clawing at his stomach, desperate in its chance to finally be heard. Keith turned his attention to his desk, eyes travelling to where Shiro had set down a small, familiar brown package and peppermint tea. “Oh,” he stammered, the full reality of the situation finally hitting him “Thanks man.” They let the silence grow for a few moments, Keith taking the opportunity to unwrap his food.
“His name is Lance.” Shiro finally spoke, leaning against the side of Keith’s desk as he did. Keith paused, bagel in hand, mouth gaping around the ghost of what was going to be his first bite.
“What?” He spoke after a few moments, drawing out the silence. He must have looked completely bewildered, as his expression had Shiro laughing within seconds.
“The owner of the bakery.” He said, smile still etching his features. Keith blinked twice, utterly lost. Shiro held in his laugh this time, eyes travelling to the bagel and back to meet Keith’s. “Where I keep getting the bagels, Keith. Jesus.” Keith’s expression quickly turned skeptical, questioning. He let his eyes linger on his brother for as long as his hunger let him, but it was only a matter of moments before he shifted his gaze and took his first bite. He was immediately contented as the warm pastry settled on his tongue. He could feel Shiro’s eyes on him as he chewed. “First man I know who’s been able to win over your taste buds on the first go.”
“I’m not that bad!” Keith snapped, forgetting that his mouth was full, words cascading out sharp and messy. A blush quickly spread from his neck to the tips of his ears and he shot up a hand to cover his mouth. He refused to look at Shiro, who kept his eyes trained on him and watched in quiet amusement. Mouth still covered, he took a few moments to chew and swallow properly. Afterwards, blush still bright and patchy, he cleared his throat. “I mean… I’m not that picky.”
“Whatever you say.” Shiro straightened, deciding to let Keith eat and resume work in peace. “All I know is that I’m grateful to the man, he’s making my life a lot easier.”
This time, the crumpled bagel package caught Shiro on the side of the head as he turned to leave the room.
Every time Shiro brought him a bagel thereafter, it came with new information about Lance.
The third time, after Shiro had placed the bagel directly on top of Keith’s keyboard, he’d said: “Lance looks like he’s about your age.” When Keith responded with a gruff “What does that have to do with anything?” he’d simply shrugged, turning out of the room with a casual “Oh nothing, just an observation.”
The fourth time, he learned about Lance’s business. “He took the business over from his father, isn’t that interesting?” Shiro spoke from where he sat next to him on the couch. He’d just returned from picking Keith up his now go to meal, and was binging on some Chinese takeout himself.
“Mhm,” Keith hummed, mouth full and attention glued to the TV in front of them, buzzing with the evening’s news. He felt an elbow dig into his side, quick and abrupt, causing him to choke on a piece of bagel.
“Runs the whole place by himself. Seems like he’s doing pretty well.” Shiro continued a little too casually, prodding the contents of his takeout container with his chopsticks as though he hadn’t just elbowed Keith in the ribs.
“Shiro, why do you keep telling me all of this stuff about that baker? Last time I checked, you and Allura were in a long-distance relationship.” He drew out the last word for emphasis, knitting his eyebrows in frustration as he looked over at his brother.
“Yes, and a happy one at that.” Shiro continued to prod at his food, withholding eye contact. “Also, his name is Lance.”
“Alright. Why do you keep telling me all of this stuff about Lance, then?” He huffed in frustration, the conversation beginning to feel like pulling teeth. Shiro looked up at the mention of Lance’s name, a coy smile playing at his lips as he popped a piece of broccoli into his mouth. Keith stared, utterly lost.
“Just seems like an interesting guy is all.” He ate with a cheeriness Keith couldn’t place, like he was up to something. But for the life of him Keith couldn’t figure out what it was, and he had his upcoming commissions to focus on, so he let it go and continued to eat. If he had to listen about Lance in order to keep eating his bagels, he resigned, it was a small price to pay.
Keith leaned back in his chair, locking his fingers and stretching his arms far behind his head. He proceeded to rub his eyes, which were, again, overworked and tired from the strain of looking at a computer screen all day. He’d finally finished his work, and as usual, was having trouble adjusting to the reality that now surrounded him. The sun was almost below the horizon, the only light that remained in the sky burning like an ember about to go out. He didn’t know exactly how long he’d been working, but he did know that when he sat down to start, it was just after lunch. He put a palm to the back of his neck, stretching his muscles and cracking his tired bones. Now that his focus was shifted away from his work, his stomach had turned indignant, nagging and nagging to be obliged. He sighed, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone.
Keith: Where are you?
6:47p.m.
Shiro: Still at work, what’s up?
6:51p.m.
Keith: Can you bring your favourite brother a bagel on your way home? Haven’t eaten since lunch…
6:52p.m.
Shiro: Won’t be home for another hour or two, you’re on your own kid
7:00p.m.
Shiro: Also… you gotta start taking better care of yourself
7:00p.m.
Keith: I know I know
7:02p.m.
Keith: I don’t know where the place is tho…
7:03p.m.
Shiro: It’s in the indoor marketplace about a block away on 5th, fourth store to the right. Can’t miss it – but hurry, he closes at 8
7:05p.m.
Keith: I can’t believe you’re making me go outside
7:06:p.m.
Shiro: Tell Lance I said hi ;)
7:14p.m.
Keith had been in an art haze for days. He’d been able to take complete advantage of it, as Shiro was usually home early, but they were starting to trust him more at his new job, which incidentally meant more work and longer hours. He shuffled around his room in the dark, spying a bright red hoodie among the wreckage that was his bedroom floor. He sniffed it quickly, deemed it okay, and threw it on over his t-shirt. He tied his hair into a messy bun, swapped his pajama pants for a pair of dark jeans, and grabbed his leather jacket, keys, and wallet before heading out the door. He was a bit of a mess, the bun being a necessity to contain his second day hair, and his clothes wrinkled and disheveled after having spent God knows how long crumpled on his floor. His skin was pale from lack of sunlight and his eyes were heavy lidded and tired, but, he thought casually, swinging his keys on one finger and walking out onto the street, it’s not like he had anyone to impress around here anyway.
The Meeting: Keith
It was a little before quarter to 8 when Keith finally made it to the bakery. He opened the door to the subtle chiming of a bell, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty room. The place was small, but it was clean and nicely decorated. The shop consisted of a large counter and display case, which housed an assortment of equipment and a large chalkboard menu from behind, and a few quaint tables to eat at. However, his attention was instantly drawn to the walls that were painted a nice, airy blue. The bakery was warm in comparison to the crisp fall air outside, and yet being surrounded by such a soft blue reminded Keith of a cool sea breeze, or the mist that cascaded from breaking waves. The cool contrast of the ocean blues and the warm, homey smell of baked goods was a little disarming, and yet Keith found himself instinctively drawn in by the unique marriage of them both. As he made his way further inside, he could hear the distant sound of music coming from somewhere deep in the store. It was cheerful and bright, and although he knew he must have been imagining it, he could almost make out the sound of a sweet ocean breeze swaying along to each note, only drawing him further into the sea. He walked up to the display case, peaking in at what remained after the long day. The display was near empty, so he busied himself by combing through the assortment of labels marking empty rows. Strawberry Cheesecake, Coconut Cream Pie, Pecan Banana Bread… At the sound of hurried footsteps rounding the corner from what appeared to be the back baking area, Keith reflexively began to speak.
“I’m not sure if you have any left… I know I’m here pretty late. But, any chance you have any cinnamon bagels?” He remained partially lost in thought, mind still adrift at sea. His gaze continued to fixate on the display rather than meet the eyes of person he now spoke to.
“No worries!” The voice from behind the counter rang clear and bright. “We do, you won’t find them in there though.” Keith looked up as he continued to speak, following the voice. The sound carried his focus to a tall boy with a wide, goofy smile and kind eyes. He watched as the speaker cocked his head to the display, gesturing toward the empty case as he spoke. “I’ve been keeping a few extra in the back for-“ the boy continued, pausing for a moment “Well, they’ve been pretty popular lately.” Keith’s eyes continued to drink him in, utterly fixated. He wore a white apron over a light purple t-shirt, both garments sprinkled in powder. Despite slight bags under his eyes, he beamed down at him. Keith realized with a start that his eyes mirrored the soft blue of the walls. “What would you like on it?” Keith sucked in a breath.
“Uh…” Under his gaze, Keith immediately felt self-conscious about his appearance, remembering in grueling detail how long it had been since he had washed his hair, the carelessness with which he had thrown his hair up. He could feel his ears and cheeks, which were already rosy from the brisk walk to the marketplace, begin to warm. “If it’s not too much trouble… cream cheese on one side, and butter on the other.” His sentence trailed off in a low mumble and his eyes fell to his hands. He nervously began to thread his fingers together, palms quickly clamming. “Oh, please!” He tripped over his words, practically shouting them. He looked back up, surprised to see that the boy hadn’t moved, but was instead staring at him like he’d just stumbled upon something interesting. He laughed loudly in response to Keith’s outburst, face creasing and dimples appearing on both sides of his cheeks. For a moment, Keith felt like he was floating. The laugh wasn’t patronizing but kind, and it cascaded over him like ripples drifting outward in a pool. Their eyes met, and Keith thought for a moment that he might burn up on the spot.
“You must be Keith,” the boy smiled, dimples digging deeper into flushed cheeks. “Shiro’s your brother, right? He’s told me a lot about you.” He chuckled before continuing “Nobody but him ever asks for that order.” He turned slightly, craning toward the door that led to the back of the shop. He stopped mid-stance, however, to pause and look at Keith. Waiting, Keith realized, for a reply.
“Uh, y-yeah. Shiro’s my brother.” His throat felt like it was choked for air, words coming out low and patchy. In response, Keith received quite possibly the softest smile he’d ever seen.
“I’ll be right back with that bagel.” He chirped in reply, walking happily out of the room and into the back. After a few moments, Keith let out a long held breath, the tension in his body causing it to sound more like a strangled gasp as it escaped his lips. Suddenly, the entire set up of the bakery made sense. The ocean blues, the music that had him day dreaming of the sea, the warmth that somehow tied it all together. He felt like he’d wadded too far into the ocean, only to be swept helplessly away by an over zealous undertow. He saw light purple quickly come back around the corner, bagel in hand. Humming quietly to himself, the boy began to prep Keith’s order. Keith squirmed, desperately trying to figure out what to do with his hands.
“My name’s Lance, by the way.” The boy, Lance, spoke. His eyes remained trained on his work, but his voice carried the same smile that was spread across his lips. “I was wondering if I’d ever get the chance to meet the person who keeps ordering my cinnamon bagels… or if Shiro would play delivery boy forever.” He laughed quietly to himself as he said so, quickly adding “Not that I mind talking to your brother, he’s very good company.” Lance. Lance. The name hit him like a pound of bricks, heavy and sudden. The baker, the one who’d won over his tastes buds on the first go, who had taken over his father’s business, and who Shiro had been on and on about for weeks was here, standing in front of him, with nimble fingers and ocean eyes. The threads began to unravel in his mind one by one; why Shiro had mentioned his name so much, why he hadn’t been letting Keith eat in peace, why he stood here now. His mind spun and spun, the sudden buzzing of his phone from his hoodie pocket snapping him back into reality. He whipped it out, chasing the sensation that had temporarily anchored him. He unlocked his screen to see a picture of Shiro shooting him a peace sign, tongue stuck out. He was in their living room, clearly not still at work, caption reading plain and clear underneath: “Just kidding.” Before Keith could process the new information, his phone buzzed again, a new message popping up from his brother: “My final delivery: one cute baker, get em’ while he’s hot. ;)”
“I’m gunna kill him!” He stammered, mouth speaking before his mind had the chance to catch up. His eyes remained glued to his phone in utter disbelief, mouth falling open in a comical gape. Somewhere deep in his gut, he could feel a small fire begin to spark. The smoke rose and rose until it reached his cheeks, and –
Oh, Lance was staring at him. He was holding a paper bag in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. Had Keith asked for a tea? He’d wanted to, but had he forgotten? He figured he might have… so how had Lance known? It was probably because of Shiro… Oh, Shiro. Wait, Lance was staring at him. Realization flooded over him, Lance’s perplexed gaze effectively dousing his fire and completely deflating him. His arms shot up immediately, palms facing out and waving frantically. “Not you!” he blurted, a violent blush sprouting up his neck “U-uh… my brother!” Lance continued to stare, expression unreadable as he set down the package and tea he was holding. At this point, Keith figured his face must match the colour of his hoodie. “Not that I’d actually kill him!” He stumbled and stumbled, wracking his brain for anything he could use to explain his way out of this. “I mean, I spoke without thinking… he just sent me a text and-“ oh no, you can’t tell him what it said “Uhhh…. well, he sort of tricked me, and it surprised me… and…” He was interrupted by a burst of laughter. For a moment, Keith thought he had absolutely lost his mind. But Lance was laughing, loud and clear and without reservation. He clutched at his stomach with one hand and attempted to wipe at the tears spilling from the sides of his eyes with the other. His laugh filled the room in waves, lifting and breaking, until it bubbled all around him. For some reason, all the tension in Keith’s body eased at the light, carefree sound.
“I’m sorry.” Lance gasped between laughs, still holding his stomach. Once he’d calmed enough to speak clearly, he continued. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” His cheeks were patchy and rosy, and his face was still creased and bright with hints of laughter. “I have siblings… I get it, they mess with you. It can get pretty crazy.” Still smiling, he glanced at the watch on the underside of his wrist. He made his way over to the front of the shop, wiping at his eyes again as he did so, and flipped the sign on the door from “Open” to “Closed.” When he was back behind the counter, he spoke again. “Your order’s ready.” He glanced down at where he’d set the items on the counter. Keith followed his gaze, and felt his shoulders slacken.
“Oh, right, sorry.” Keith fumbled with his wallet, searching for change. He didn’t blame Lance for wanting him to leave, he had come in late… and probably freaked him the hell out. He tried not to appear too dejected as he handed the amount displayed on the register to Lance.
“I still have to close up shop.” Lance spoke suddenly, sentence trailing as though he was thinking aloud. “But, I’m pretty interested in hearing about how the ever-polite Shiro tricked his little brother…” Keith’s entire body perked without his consent, and Lance’s expression softened. “You can stay and eat here as I close, if you want to tell me.”
“If you don’t mind the company.” Keith replied, a little too quickly. “I jump at any chance to ruin Shiro’s spotless reputation. Man’s not as innocent as he seems.” Lance laughed again, this time low and quiet.
Sorry for the wait!! I’ve been super busy not studying for my finals... running from your problems is hard work yanno.
I’ll be posting the full version of this prompt on my ao3 for anyone who’d rather read it there. Thanks for being patient with me!
It was a little before quarter to 8 when Keith finally made it to the bakery. He opened the door to the subtle chiming of a bell, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty room. The place was small, but it was clean and nicely decorated. The shop consisted of a large counter and display case, which housed an assortment of equipment and a large chalkboard menu from behind, and a few quaint tables to eat at. However, his attention was instantly drawn to the walls that were painted a nice, airy blue. The bakery was warm in comparison to the crisp fall air outside, and yet being surrounded by such a soft blue reminded Keith of a cool sea breeze, or the mist that cascaded from breaking waves. The cool contrast of the ocean blues and the warm, homey smell of baked goods was a little disarming, and yet Keith found himself instinctively drawn in by the unique marriage of them both. As he made his way further inside, he could hear the distant sound of music coming from somewhere deep in the store. It was cheerful and bright, and although he knew he must have been imagining it, he could almost make out the sound of a sweet ocean breeze swaying along to each note, only drawing him further into the sea. He walked up to the display case, peaking in at what remained after the long day. The display was near empty, so he busied himself by combing through the assortment of labels marking empty rows. Strawberry Cheesecake, Coconut Cream Pie, Pecan Banana Bread… At the sound of hurried footsteps rounding the corner from what appeared to be the back baking area, Keith reflexively began to speak.
“I’m not sure if you have any left… I know I’m here pretty late. But, any chance you have any cinnamon bagels?” He remained partially lost in thought, mind still adrift at sea. His gaze continued to fixate on the display rather than meet the eyes of person he now spoke to.
“No worries!” The voice from behind the counter rang clear and bright. “We do, you won’t find them in there though.” Keith looked up as he continued to speak, following the voice. The sound carried his focus to a tall boy with a wide, goofy smile and kind eyes. He watched as the speaker cocked his head to the display, gesturing toward the empty case as he spoke. “I’ve been keeping a few extra in the back for-“ the boy continued, pausing for a moment “Well, they’ve been pretty popular lately.” Keith’s eyes continued to drink him in, utterly fixated. He wore a white apron over a light purple t-shirt, both garments sprinkled in powder. Despite slight bags under his eyes, he beamed down at him. Keith realized with a start that his eyes mirrored the soft blue of the walls. “What would you like on it?” Keith sucked in a breath.
“Uh…” Under his gaze, Keith immediately felt self-conscious about his appearance, remembering in grueling detail how long it had been since he had washed his hair, the carelessness with which he had thrown his hair up. He could feel his ears and cheeks, which were already rosy from the brisk walk to the marketplace, begin to warm. “If it’s not too much trouble… cream cheese on one side, and butter on the other.” His sentence trailed off in a low mumble and his eyes fell to his hands. He nervously began to thread his fingers together, palms quickly clamming. “Oh, please!” He tripped over his words, practically shouting them. He looked back up, surprised to see that the boy hadn’t moved, but was instead staring at him like he’d just stumbled upon something interesting. He laughed loudly in response to Keith’s outburst, face creasing and dimples appearing on both sides of his cheeks. For a moment, Keith felt like he was floating. The laugh wasn’t patronizing but kind, and it cascaded over him like ripples drifting outward in a pool. Their eyes met, and Keith thought for a moment that he might burn up on the spot.
“You must be Keith,” the boy smiled, dimples digging deeper into flushed cheeks. “Shiro’s your brother, right? He’s told me a lot about you.” He chuckled before continuing “Nobody but him ever asks for that order.” He turned slightly, craning toward the door that led to the back of the shop. He stopped mid-stance, however, to pause and look at Keith. Waiting, Keith realized, for a reply.
“Uh, y-yeah. Shiro’s my brother.” His throat felt like it was choked for air, words coming out low and patchy. In response, Keith received quite possibly the softest smile he’d ever seen.
“I’ll be right back with that bagel.” He chirped in reply, walking happily out of the room and into the back. After a few moments, Keith let out a long held breath, the tension in his body causing it to sound more like a strangled gasp as it escaped his lips. Suddenly, the entire set up of the bakery made sense. The ocean blues, the music that had him day dreaming of the sea, the warmth that somehow tied it all together. He felt like he’d wadded too far into the ocean, only to be swept helplessly away by an over zealous undertow. He saw light purple quickly come back around the corner, bagel in hand. Humming quietly to himself, the boy began to prep Keith’s order. Keith squirmed, desperately trying to figure out what to do with his hands.
“My name’s Lance, by the way.” The boy, Lance, spoke. His eyes remained trained on his work, but his voice carried the same smile that was spread across his lips. “I was wondering if I’d ever get the chance to meet the person who keeps ordering my cinnamon bagels… or if Shiro would play delivery boy forever.” He laughed quietly to himself as he said so, quickly adding “Not that I mind talking to your brother, he’s very good company.” Lance. Lance. The name hit him like a pound of bricks, heavy and sudden. The baker, the one who’d won over his tastes buds on the first go, who had taken over his father’s business, and who Shiro had been on and on about for weeks was here, standing in front of him, with nimble fingers and ocean eyes. The threads began to unravel in his mind one by one; why Shiro had mentioned his name so much, why he hadn’t been letting Keith eat in peace, why he stood here now. His mind spun and spun, the sudden buzzing of his phone from his hoodie pocket snapping him back into reality. He whipped it out, chasing the sensation that had temporarily anchored him. He unlocked his screen to see a picture of Shiro shooting him a peace sign, tongue stuck out. He was in their living room, clearly not still at work, caption reading plain and clear underneath: “Just kidding.” Before Keith could process the new information, his phone buzzed again, a new message popping up from his brother: “My final delivery: one cute baker, get em’ while he’s hot. ;)”
“I’m gunna kill him!” He stammered, mouth speaking before his mind had the chance to catch up. His eyes remained glued to his phone in utter disbelief, mouth falling open in a comical gape. Somewhere deep in his gut, he could feel a small fire begin to spark. The smoke rose and rose until it reached his cheeks, and –
Oh, Lance was staring at him. He was holding a paper bag in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. Had Keith asked for a tea? He’d wanted to, but had he forgotten? He figured he might have… so how had Lance known? It was probably because of Shiro… Oh, Shiro. Wait, Lance was staring at him. Realization flooded over him, Lance’s perplexed gaze effectively dousing his fire and completely deflating him. His arms shot up immediately, palms facing out and waving frantically. “Not you!” he blurted, a violent blush sprouting up his neck “U-uh… my brother!” Lance continued to stare, expression unreadable as he set down the package and tea he was holding. At this point, Keith figured his face must match the colour of his hoodie. “Not that I’d actually kill him!” He stumbled and stumbled, wracking his brain for anything he could use to explain his way out of this. “I mean, I spoke without thinking… he just sent me a text and-“ oh no, you can’t tell him what it said “Uhhh…. well, he sort of tricked me, and it surprised me… and…” He was interrupted by a burst of laughter. For a moment, Keith thought he had absolutely lost his mind. But Lance was laughing, loud and clear and without reservation. He clutched at his stomach with one hand and attempted to wipe at the tears spilling from the sides of his eyes with the other. His laugh filled the room in waves, lifting and breaking, until it bubbled all around him. For some reason, all the tension in Keith’s body eased at the light, carefree sound.
“I’m sorry.” Lance gasped between laughs, still holding his stomach. Once he’d calmed enough to speak clearly, he continued. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” His cheeks were patchy and rosy, and his face was still creased and bright with hints of laughter. “I have siblings… I get it, they mess with you. It can get pretty crazy.” Still smiling, he glanced at the watch on the underside of his wrist. He made his way over to the front of the shop, wiping at his eyes again as he did so, and flipped the sign on the door from “Open” to “Closed.” When he was back behind the counter, he spoke again. “Your order’s ready.” He glanced down at where he’d set the items on the counter. Keith followed his gaze, and felt his shoulders slacken.
“Oh, right, sorry.” Keith fumbled with his wallet, searching for change. He didn’t blame Lance for wanting him to leave, he had come in late… and probably freaked him the hell out. He tried not to appear too dejected as he handed the amount displayed on the register to Lance.
“I still have to close up shop.” Lance spoke suddenly, sentence trailing as though he was thinking aloud. “But, I’m pretty interested in hearing about how the ever-polite Shiro tricked his little brother…” Keith’s entire body perked without his consent, and Lance’s expression softened. “You can stay and eat here as I close, if you want to tell me.”
“If you don’t mind the company.” Keith replied, a little too quickly. “I jump at any chance to ruin Shiro’s spotless reputation. Man’s not as innocent as he seems.” Lance laughed again, this time low and quiet.
