Written on the Pumpkin (Klance Halloween Drabble)
Keith pulls the pumpkin impossibly closer to him, practically cradling the thing in his lap. His back is pressed to the cupboards behind him, a series of knives and napkins scattered at his sides. He looks focused— impossibly focused, like there could never be a more important thing for him to pour his energy into.
Lance pauses from carving his own pumpkin to just observe Keith, not even trying to hide the smile on his lips. They’d already carved pumpkins once this year, with Lance’s entire family, but Keith had insisted that they needed to do it again. Lance had obliged— partially because he always obliged Keith and partially because they had left their pumpkins with his family and he wanted some on their front porch, too.
“Alright over there?” Lance laughed when Keith adjusted, pressing the pumpkin firmly to his chest as he did so. Keith snapped his eyes up to Lance at the sound of his voice. “You know I’m not going to steal your design, right? Like, you won’t die if I catch a glimpse of it.”
“You can’t be completely sure of that,” Keith retorted, glancing down to ensure that no part of his design was visible. “And are you really willing to risk my life like that?”
“It’d be a great scientific discovery,” Lance teases, picking up his own knife and turning back to his own pumpkin. He continues, dropping his voice as if he’s mimicking a headline, “Local man dies because boyfriend looked at his pumpkin before he was ready to show it off.” Lance laughs at himself. “The scientific community would have a field day with it!”
“Oh, I see what’s important to you.” Keith glowers, but it’s clearly good natured.
With his most convincing pout— which, admittedly, isn’t anything close to convincing— Lance replies, “It’s all in the interest of science, babe! Don’t you care about science?”
Keith picks a few pumpkin seeds out of the bowl that resides between the two of them and flicks them over towards Lance who squawks and tries, unsuccessfully, to duck. “Will you stop distracting me? I have a masterpiece to finish!”
“A masterpiece?” Lance echoes as he pulls the pumpkin seeds off of his shirt.
“A masterpiece,” Keith confirms, turning his attention back to his pumpkin.
With a sigh—one that is somewhere between exasperated and endeared— Lance returns to his own pumpkin. They finish carving in peace, only the music that is playing from Keith’s phone and their quiet curses when they mess up their patterns filling the air in the kitchen. Lance’s legs are starting to cramp underneath him, but he’s so close to finishing his design that he’s determined to get it done before moving.
And that’s how the next few minutes pass— in a comfortable silence that makes Lance feel somehow, impossibly closer to Keith.
“Done!” Keith exclaims suddenly, stretching his legs out beneath him.
“Show me,” Lance replies.
But Keith shakes his head, a smile on his lips. “Go put yours outside and then I’ll bring mine out.”
“Oh my god,” Lance rolls his head back on his neck melodramatically, “This better be the best pumpkin I’ve ever seen with the fuss you’re making!”
There’s a strange look on Keith’s face— his smile isn’t quite straight and his eyebrows are pinched a little too close together— as he replies, “It will be.”
So, Lance does as he’s told. He stands from his spot, taking a moment to finally, finally, finally stretch his legs before grabbing the two candles off the counter. He drops one into Keith’s outstretched hand and deposits the other into his pumpkin before finally hauling it outside and setting it on their front porch. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork and wait for Keith.
Sure enough, a moment later, Keith comes trailing out onto the front porch and he looks stiff. “Turn around,” he says and Lance does, but he rolls his eyes first.
Lance hears Keith set his pumpkin down, hears him fiddling with the lighter to try and get the candles lit. And then, suddenly, Keith is standing in front of him.
“Can I look now?” Lance tries to sound wildly impatient but it comes off as anxious. And he is anxious. Anxious to see why Keith is making a big fuss, to find out why he’s biting at the corner of his lip like he’s terrified Lance won’t like it.
Keith nods and Lance spins around, all these questions still at the forefront of his mind. The moment his eyes land on Keith’s pumpkin though, he understands. Because there, in front of him, carved perfectly into the pumpkin in a way that somehow manages to look exactly like Keith’s handwriting, despite the medium, are the words ‘Marry Me?’
Heart in his throat, Lance turns back around to where Keith has just been, only to find him crouched down onto one knee in front of him, corner of his lip still between his teeth and ring box open in his hand. And suddenly, every moment Lance has ever experienced, ever romantic encounter, pales in comparison to what is happening in front of him.
The absolute love of his life, his other half, the cool, aloof, soft-on-the-inside Keith Kogane is on one knee in front of him and looking at him like he, personally, is responsible for every glorious star in the sky.
“Lance,” Keith begins and it’s immediately clear to Lance that Keith is choked up, “I love you more than anything else in this world— in this universe. Our love is written in the stars—“
“—on the pumpkin,” Lance interjects because otherwise he’s going to cry. Happy tears, but tears nonetheless. “Our love is written on the pumpkin. That one, right there.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate exactly what he’s talking about.
Keith laughs, still down on one knee and Lance can visibly see the tension dissipate from his shoulders. Keith shakes his head, a small but wildly fond gesture and Lance knows that he’s going to cry no matter what.
“Lance, our love was written on the pumpkin.” Keith resumes, amusement in his voice. “And there has never been a part of me that doubted this love. So please, please do me the honor of spending the rest of your life with me? Marry me, Lance, please.”
“Yes,” Lance breathes, and his eyes are wet. “Yes,” he repeats, as if it isn’t obvious in the shaking of his hands. And if he’d ever say anything else. As if his entire heart, his complete soul, hadn’t belonged to Keith from the moment they met. “Yes, yes, yes!”
And yeah, his eyes are distinctly wet. But his lips are suddenly warm with the press of Keith’s own lips. And his heart is full, so full, it’s overflowing, bursting at the seams. He’s never been happier. He’ll never be happier. Except, of course, when he’s standing at the altar, claiming Keith as his. Except the first fine he gets to call Keith his husband. He’ll be happier, then.
But for now, he’s content to just kiss Keith. To pull him closer and tangle his fingers in Keith’s hair. He’s content— more than content, thrilled, elated, off the charts happy— to watch Keith slide the gorgeous silver band onto his finger.
And when he finally gets to murmur, “I love you, fiancé.” He thinks that he won’t be happier in the future, because he truly can’t get any happier. But he knows, really, truly knows, to the core of his being, that he’ll always be at this level of happiness. Because he loves Keith and for some crazy reason, Keith loves him back.
