“Hmph.”
The sound comes from his lap, disgruntled and petulant. Lance holds back a smile, continuing to pet his boyfriend’s hair with one hand, the other one putting some finishing touches on his report for Shiro. (Does Shiro need the report to be quite so detailed? Probably not. But everyone else gives the driest, most bare-boned reports ever to be written, and it Stresses Lance Out. How are they going to improve if they don’t record the details? It’s simple!)
“You’re not giving me enough attention,” Keith whines, apparently done with just huffing and sighing about it.
This time, Lance lets the corners of his mouth quirk up. No one else gets to see Keith like this — needy, clingy, a cuddle fiend. Just Lance. Just Lance gets to have Keith at his most vulnerable.
(Cat-like, although mentioning it gets Lance bitten. Or laid absolutely flat on his ass during training, depending on how grouchy Keith is and how much Lance laughed as he said it.)
“Your head is in my lap and I am petting your hair, cielo. What more do you want?”
Keith huffs again. He lifts his head — glaring at Lance when he stops running his fingers through his hair, because he is spoiled, apparently — and glowers at Lance’s laptop.
“Don’t you dare,” Lance warns, mostly kidding. “I have to finish this report.”
“Or we could make out,” Keith says, looking at him hopefully. He makes his eyes big and round, basically one step away from fluttering his eyelashes. He’s pouting, because he knows exactly what Lance’s weaknesses are and has no qualms against using them for his own personal gain.
Lance, because he is a simp, leans down and presses a soft kiss to those pouted lips. He hums, moving his free hand from Keith’s hair to cup his cheek.
“I’m almost done,” he murmurs.
“Shiro can fucking wait,” Keith whispers back. “I want to cuddle. I want your attention.”
“You have it. You always have it. You never leave my mind.”
Keith laughs quietly. “You’re so full of shit. What romcom did you steal that line from, Romeo?”
Chuckling, Lance pulls away and hooks his chin over Keith’s shoulder, squeezing his arms around his waist. “I didn’t! That’s my own sentiment. You have my attention, my love.”
“I have some of your attention. I want all of it.”
Lance hums. He looks at his report. He’s probably got another five pages, maybe another half hour of writing. He’s fast. If he keeps working through he can finish, and then he’s done for the next couple days.
But… Keith is so warm.
And Lance’s fingers are cold.
And he really doesn’t want to finish his stupid reports.
“You are a menace,” Lance says, slumping forward into Keith’s chest. He can’t see his face, but he can feel Keith’s smugness.
“You’re just easy to manipulate.”
“Meanie.”
“Mhm.” Keith leans back on their pillows, so Lance is laying on top of him with his head on his chest. Lance shifts, wiggling around so his legs are in between Keith’s and his chin rests on Keith’s pecs, so he can look at said menace of a boyfriend.
“Is this enough attention?”
Keith grins. “Almost.”
“What else do I need to do?”
“Tell me you love me,” Keith says, brushing his thumbs across Lance’s cheekbones. Lance leans into the touch.
“Endlessly,” he breathes out, without a second of hesitation. “More than the sun and the stars. I love you more than I love to laugh and sing and breathe. You are the life in my heart, cariño. You’re everything to me.”
“That’s a lot. You sure you love me that much?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been of anything in my life,” Lance says, and he means it.
Keith smiles so wide his eyes crinkle. It’s Lance’s favourite expression of his.
“I love you too. That much. You make me happy, Lance. I didn’t know I could be this happy.”
Lance moved his hands to plant on Keith’s chest, heaving himself up, millimetres away from Keith’s face.
“Show me?”
“Gladly.”
