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~~~
Lance spared a look down at the dashboard clock. 9 pm. He sighed as the traffic began to slow on the highway, aching from his extra late night at work, and longing for home.Â
âHey, Iâm on the road, Iâll be there in a sec,â he says when his twin sister called a moment later. âOf course, some idiot caused a wreck⊠Itâs not like I wasnât already late enough. Lance glanced out over the cars in front of him, all rolling forward inch, by inch. The red taillights stretched on before him and around a bend, way off into the distance.Â
âItâs okay, Lance. Iâll tell Mama youâre on your way. See you soon, bye.â
His family always has a large celebration on New and heâd already settled for being late. Heâd be there way before midnight, so it wasnât a big deal. Well, he was supposed to be. Eventually, Lance just shoved the car into the part. Soon enough, with a defeated heave, he turned off the ignition. Everyone on the road had stopped.Â
âCome on, come on, come on,â he whispered down to his phone, the shitty blackspot he was stranded in making the traffic app on his phone load at snailâs pace. Some news sites say a pile-up, some say a breakdown. Either way, every traffic app shows one big red line across the stretch of road he was on. It was already 10 pm.
Lance was pulled away from his phone by an overhead light flicking on in the car next to him. He looks over, wondering if the other person looked as fed up as he felt. Lance gasped a laugh as he spotted a familiar mop of black hair ducked down as gloved hands struggled around a tangled phone charger. Keith.Â
That gorgeous frown on his face. That mysterious furrowed brow. The guy who works one floor below him in their office building. And the guy heâd been thinking about for over a year. A year and one week, to be exact.Â
He and Keith had gotten flirty at a company Christmas party the year prior. Lance pushed down the way his stomach flipped at the memory with a quick bit to his lip. It had all been going well until the lichee martinis theyâd been ordering for each other caught up to Keith and he got super trashed. Lance had to help him home.
Lance leaned forward in his chair, then hesitated. They barely talked, since then. But still, Lance thought as he looked around at all the stopped traffic. It seemed theyâd be there a while. He winded down his passenger window, waving his hands a little in the other guyâs direction.
âHey, Keith. Keith?â he tried. Eventually, the man looked up, the furrow in his brow deepening a little until it relaxed with realisation. Then his face twisted into something Lance couldnât quite interpret. Alas, he winded down his own window.Â
âFancy seeing you here,â Keith smiled politely. Lance wanted to laugh at the sarcasm, but his mind was short-circuiting. Keithâs voice was so smooth, so deep without the slur of alcohol turning him giddy. His smile! It was even more enchanting than his pout. Lance coughed.Â
âHa, yeah. Hope the traffic clears soon, hey?âÂ
âYeah,â Keith replied. âIs there a party waiting for you?âÂ
âOh, yeah, no party could start without the chief of good times!â Lance smirked, rattling off his own plans. It was nice, thinking about Veronicaâs desserts, Marcoâs loud singing. He felt a little closer to them, even if he was so far away. It was a moment before Lance realised heâd zoned out a little. âHow come you stayed back so late, too?âÂ
âOh, you know,â Keith shrugged, leaning his elbow out on his windowsill. âGot nowhere else to be but home.â Lance nodded. He felt bad, going on about his family now. Was Keith really about to go sit at home? Get to sleep before the clock tick over, or watch the television specials all alone?
He could taste the stale air that had lingered into their conversation as Lance fell silent once more. Keith must have too, as with a curt nod, he wound up his window, his phone flashing on to life.Â
Lance tried the radio. Emergency vehicles were struggling to get to the scene through all of the cars. It would be a while yet.
It was 11 pm.Â
Lance typed out a message to his family group chat, saying that he didnât know if he would make it. His finger hovered over send, a lump forming in his throat. He looked around. The highway is a total shit show by that point. People had stopped their cars, gotten out, and started making friends with the people around them. Where has that group gotten beers from?
Lance sniffed back the sad knot in his chest, knowing that his family was having fun together. He wanted more than anything to get home to them. He thought of Keithâs home, empty, still. Lance pressed send, before winding down his window again and flagging Keith down.Â
âSeems everyone has made themselves comfortable,â Lance said with a half-hearted laugh. Keith looked around with a gentle, disinterested yet considerate nod.Â
âYeah, I wonder how bad the incident is. Do you reckon anyone died?â Keith hummed. Lanceâs eyes widened.Â
âOh, um. I⊠I hadnât thought about that,â Lance said, feeling his stomach drop. Keith grimaced.
âSorry, I made it weird. Iâm not a very good conversationalist. Lance snorted.
âSee, now you said that last year at the Christmas party, but if I remember correctly, we babbled on for hours.â There. Heâd done it. Ripped the band-aid. Heâd brought up the party. The party where that thing almost happened. The thing Lance stopped. It felt good for a second, really good. Until Keith brought a hand up behind his head, rubbing his neck.
âOh yeah, I donât really remember that night if Iâm honest. Not a lot of it.â
Lanceâs tongue caught in his throat. His face heated from his neck to his ears. All this time, he thought Keith had been avoiding him. Embarrassed for what had happened. Hurt, even.Â
But he really just didnât remember. Maybe he never cared to.Â
âOh,â Lance said. âOh. Right. Of course.â The conversation went dead again quickly after that, yet neither man made to wind their windows back up. After a minute or two, the pair sitting in tick, tense silence, eyeing each other like they were in a polite reaction showdown, the people around them start counting.Â
Lance couldnât help it. The cheering, the making do. Lance let out a little sob. He wanted to be home. With his family. And here he was. Feeling like an idiot, stuck on the highway In the last ten seconds of New Years with a bunch of strangers and someone who he really wished wasnât one.
The people around them scream âHappy New Yearâ and Keith presses the overhead light in his car, casting him into darkness. Lanceâs heart swirled down into the abyss with it, as the singing crowd around them sends Lanceâs world crashing and churning with each mellow note. Heâd missed it. And he was all alone, really, truly alone.
But then Keithâs car door opened. He leaned against it for a moment, hands in his trouser pockets, jacket abandoned, leaving him in a light blue button-up. In the glow of hundreds of headlights, Keithâs small smile shone like stars. Slowly, he took a step forward and opened Lanceâs passenger door, sliding into the seat.
âHi,â he whispered before leaning over and just kissing Lance, pulling them close together over the centre console. Lance remembered when Keith had tried to kiss Lance last. Lance had pulled back instantly, Keith was wasted that night. Lance surged forward, kissing Keith back so passionately that everything bled out between them. Everything Lance wished heâd been able to do that night. Everything he wanted to do so many times since. He gave Keith everything heâd been holding in for a year. A year and one week.
They pulled away softly, the crescendo of midnight fizzling away into the new morning. The singing around them bubbled up into cheering and suddenly the crowds around them were dissipating, people were crawling back into their cars as engines around them roared to life. Lance looked ahead, where the bend gave way to sight. The cars way in the distance were starting to move. t Keith motions sheepishly with a thumb over his shoulder that he needed to go back to his car. Lance nods, wordlessly. Keith makes for the door handle but Lance catches his hand.
âCome to my house. Donât be alone. Just follow me,â He says.
âAre you sure, you want me there?â Keithâs beautiful thick eyebrows were raised in surprise. Lance shrugged.Â
âMy familyâs parties go on until morning. The countdown is just the beginning.â The karaoke and the beer pong, the children stacked top to toe in beds upstairs. It no longer brought a tear to Lanceâs eye. Just a burn in his heart. A firm beat that told him to get there. The fun was nowhere near over.Â
âOkay,â Keith nodded, then slid back into his own car, the old truck rattling into gear. Lance began to drive, watching Keith eagerly in his mirrors as he pulled in behind Lance. They caught eye otherâs stare. Keithâs eyes were so warm and deep. They maintained eye contact until Lance was forced to look at the road. What a great start to the year.
Heroes' Journey is proud to introduce one of our amazing writers, @teddyylou (Instagram | Ao3)
If you could have any superpower, what would it be?
My fun answer would be fly, but I think manipulating probability would be cool.
Whatâs your favorite superhero moment or trope?
Two people who know each other in real life being rivals as a superhero and a villain on a world stage and finally having that moment where they figure it out.
Excerpt
âYou should probably go now,â Keith weighed the unfortunate words on his tongue. Lance groaned in response, snuggling deeper under the mountain of soft blankets where the sting of the outside couldnât get him.
âKeith, baby. You canât possibly make me ride home out there in the rain,â Lance begged, holding him and rocking him like a half-hearted shakedown. Keith huffed, considering his options for a second.
He peeked his head out of the covers, hair still a mess over his face. His skin prickled just at the thought of the cold beyond their haven. But then he thought of the people downstairs. Each rattle of closing kitchen draws made his heart pound. But in the end, it wasn't was a tough choice.
HEY GUYS! I'm not mentioned here as I was only put on recently as a pinch hitter, but if any of you were interested, my writing will be featured in this zine!!
Due to a lack of enough applicants for the zine, mod applications for Agridulce, a Klance whump zine (with the theme of angst with a happy ending), have been extended a second time. Mod applications will now close on August 28!
If we do not get enough mod applicants by then, we will unfortunately be unable to continue with the zine, due to not enough interest in those helping to run the zine
Once again, we are looking for at least one beta mod, one finance mod, one shipping mod, one or two graphic design mods, and one formatting mod. On top of that, we have decided to open up a spot for a social media mod as well, if that position interests anyone!
The duties of each mod position are listed below:
Finance mod duties:
Work with shipping mod and formatting mod to create zine specs
Set the budget and stretch goals for the zine
Determine which merch can/should be produced
Set up the store for preorders
Shipping mod duties:
Work with finance and formatting mod to create zine specs
Order physical copies of the zine content
Label and ship out physical copies of the zine content
Manage and observe any tracking of zine packages
Graphic design mod duties:
Create graphics unique to the zine
Keep a consistent aesthetic and color palette among the graphics as a whole
Help out the formatting mod with any graphic design related tasks in the formatting of the final zine
Formatting mod duties:
Work with finance and shipping mod to create zine specs
Determine which readable font and text formatting to use for the zine
Format the art and writing pieces into a booklet
Maintain an aesthetic and color palette consistent to that used by the graphic design mod
Beta mod duties:
Monitor the grammar and word count progress on all written pieces
Go through written pieces and make (constructively) critical comments
Social media mod duties:
Post announcements, graphics, and updated
Answer questions on social media accounts for the zine
Consult other mods beforehand
Keep decorum and politeness
Check and frequently maintain/update social media(s)
Stay on top of schedule
FINANCE AND SHIPPING MODS MUST BE AT LEAST 18 YEARS OF AGE. ALL OTHER MODS MUST BE AT LEAST 16 YEARS OF AGE
Remember that mod applications for Agridulce, a writer-focused (but not exclusive) Klance whump zine (with the theme of angst with a happy ending), have been extended to August 28!
Make sure to apply before the deadline if youâre interest in helping run this zine!
âYou really canât come out of one day without a new purple mark on you, can you?â Lance called behind to Keith, his hand intertwined with his, hastily leading him over to a table in the observatory to tend to his bruises.
They were probably better off in the hospital wing, but everyone was still buzzing from the mission, giving everyone else a look over to make sure each team member was still intact. They liked it better when it was just them. Lance had stocked up a storage compartment by the lounges with some first aid, so that they could look at the stars and just sit with each other, alone, out of the way of anyone elseâs gaze. They could process the fact that theyâd lived to see each other another day, in peace.
Lance smiled as he helped Keith sit up on the table, eyes bright and tone casual and chipper, pretending that he didnât tremble as he opened the first aid kit, or that he didnât almost drop the box of band-aids he picked up.
Keith did the same: He pretended it didnât hurt his back to sit up, and that he wasnât completely and utterly exhausted both physically and emotionally. It had been a rough battle, theyâd both been scared beyond their wits, but for the moment they could set it aside and purport the idea that everything was fine.
âItâs my body itching to be Galra, what can I say,â Keith shrugged, a giddy smirk on his lips as sarcasm bled into his words. Lance sighed a laugh.
âNo, itâs you being impulsive and you can say sorry?â Lanceâs tone was still upbeat for the sake of their juvenile ritual, but the seriousness of his words weighed down on Keithâs aching shoulders. Lance really wasnât alright, even if they both were pretending not to know it.
âWe won, no one got hurt,â Keith assured him. Lance raised a brow. Instead of retorting, he jabbed a finger into Keithâs rib, casing an immediate jerk reaction from his boyfriend who slapped his hand away. Lance pressed his lips into a think line pointedly. Keith stared back for a moment.
âNo one got badly hurt,â He corrected. He could feel the weight of reality weighing down heavier, but it was easier for the both of them to ignore it for a little while longer. They were both so drained from the fight, it was better to keep up the loving banter, shovelling the dread off to future Keith and Lance. Lance rolled his eyes with a huff, eager to let it go for the moment as well.
Lance sponged a disinfectant wipe over Keithâs cheek before placing a band-aid on his wound, a small cut under his eye. He shook his head to himself, breathing out frustrated words under his breath that he didnât let Keith hear as he used another part of the wipe to sop up the blood that had dried under Keithâs split lip.
Lance stood back and thought for a second, he tugged his lip to the side as if to shrug saying, âcanât put a band-aid on thatâ. So instead, Lance leaned down, offering a warm smile before pecking Keithâs bottom lip gently. He relaxed his shoulders as he stood. âAll betterâ.
Lance placed his palms flat to the table, one either side of Keithâs legs. He looked down for a second, eyes darting back and forth, the previous few hours swimming in his head so impactfully Keith could almost pinpoint what part of the mission he was reliving. âYou didnât have to jet off away from the group though,â Lance told him. His voice was suddenly dull, gently being drowned out by the growing feeling of tension building up in the small space between them. Electrical currents zapped around in the mere foot that separated their faces. It was still a quiet hum, but it was also them. The dull roar was almost at its tipping point, like the muffled speaker of a house party that would become clear if someone just opened the door.
âI knew I would have him if I just pushed red to full speed, I had to take the chance,â Keith explained, his tongue the wistful hand that turned the knob.
âYeah well, we couldnât see you,â Lance shouted suddenly, his voice dark and deep as he slammed his hands down on the table where they laid. Keith jumped a little where he sat, not expecting the outburst. They were usually pretty good at keeping their cool until they settled their object permanence. Lance took a breath, closing his eyes in silent agreement. They were not about to fight. âAre you feeling okay?â He asked, voice calmer, quivering slightly, eyes darting to all the bruises he was yet to rub Altean healing cream into.
Keith could feel the tension under his voice like it was lacing his throat, sticking to each word as it passed but not quite willing to bubble over again. It was a really stressful battle when it could have been easy. They hadnât been prepared. Keith knew how scared Lance got when they werenât prepared.
They were best as a team when they all knew exactly what they had to do, saving some room for someone, usually Keith, to break line for some improvisation. He could see it in the tight miosis of Lanceâs pupils, small with bright piercing blue irises showing like he was shell-shocked. Lance was angry at him. Very angry. And he probably deserved it too. But right now, they both just wanted to be close.
âYeah, the hand-to-hand left me a little dusty though,â Keith said casually, not wanting to alarm Lance any further, attempting a last-ditch effort to lull the unrest back to sleep.
âLet me see your wrist,â Lance said flatly.
âMy wrist is fine.â
âLet me see itâŠâ he repeated sternly. âI told you to keep the brace on for longer.â
Keith hesitated but reluctantly held his hand out to Lance. The brunet took it gently and Keith watched intently as he pressed down on different parts carefully. He was afraid of another flashover. He never used to let people help him, scared to show people that he needed it. But Lance was so kind and understanding. He made things feel less serious than they were. But that spark of trust could ignite a conversation to come alive. The delicate circuits they kept insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounded by the emotional charge of tension. Theyâd get heated like they always did. Theyâd fight. Keith didnât want another chance to lose him.
Lance trailed the pads of his fingers up over Keithâs palms to prod the centre of his wrist joint. Keith flinched, feeling the pain shoot straight up his arm like a jolt of electricity. The sudden movement pulled a hiss from him as his entire forearm was encased in pain. It was silent for a moment
âYou just donât listen, do you?â Lance looked up at him from where his head hung, depleted. There it was, the flashover. He wasnât yelling anymore but his tone was so cold Keith would have preferred it if heâd gotten heated. Heâd rather be screamed at by Lance than have to stare into his eyes as the truth settled in that Keith had lied to him, to everybody.
âI tell you,â Lance pushed himself off the bench to pace on the floor in front of Keith. His hands were clenched tight like he was trying not to punch something. âI tell you every. Single. Time. Keith. Donât push yourself or youâll be out of commission and no help to anybody, but you just donât listen. Itâs like my words donât even matter!â Keith winced, he sounded exasperated.
Keith drops his eyes to his lap. They do. You know they do,â he grumbled, face red hot with shame and trepidation.
âYeah, right,â Lance muttered as he came to a stop in front of Keith again, catching his wrist before he can pull it away. He took some bandages and began to strap the injured limb. Keith felt the heat in his face subside a little. Even when furious, Lance still took care of him, still showed him he loved him.
âListen⊠You have to take better care of yourself. If not for you, then for the team. For me. So I know that you arenât going to get hurt, the kind of hurt we canât just fix.â Lance went on as he wrapped another layer of bandage, pulling it securely tight. âLook, I know youâre reckless, thatâs you and I have learned to love you for it. You like to have a stab,â he even laughed a little. âBut being reckless is about not knowing if you can do something and trying it. Thatâs basically how we run in Voltron. But when you know you canât do something then doing it anyway isnât reckless, itâs stupid. You are human Keith, even if itâs only half. You have limits and itâs okay to not be able to do everything. You have to stop this silly one-man team bullshit. You could hurt yourself and get in some sort of trouble that I canât pull you out of.â
Lance took a deep breath, finishing his work. âI canât lose you, Keith.â And the fighting was done, the banter was done. The pretending was over as Keith pulled Lance into a desperate kiss, afraid to ever let him go again.
âIâm sorry,â He whispered against his boyfriendâs lips. They ended up on the floor against the table, sitting side by side to look at the stars and revel in the aftersome of the war. How they ended up loving each other so much.
Keith was astonished to think of the bizarre sequence of accidents that brought them to that momentâas if heâd spent years bouncing down a Plinko pegboard, passing through a million harmless decisions, any one of which mightâve changed everything. It made that moment feel so impossible.
âYou know, itâs 5 pm home in Texas, all the cadets would be heading down to the mess hall, classes and training done for the day. Life was so easy when you didnât have to think about it,â he said, almost in disbelief that heâd ever been one of those cadets in this lifetime.
âItâs 4 pm in Havana,â Lance replied.
âHmm,â Keith hummed, âhappy hour.â Lance snorted at that, shrugging as he opened another storage compartment in the table. He pulled out two beers, handing one ice-cold brew to Keith before uncapping his own.
Keith woke to gentle kisses being pressed to the shell of his ear. Wrapped up under the warm covers of his bed, he pulled the strong arm that was hugged around his middle even tighter, pressing his boyfriendâs hand, which had crept up under his shirt as they slept, to his chest, kissing his knuckles.Â
âHmm, morning, baby,â Lance hummed, burying his nose snuggly into Keithâs mess of black hair. Keith felt him breathe out happily, the way their feet brushed together at the foot of the bed adding to the serene feeling that was swiftly taking over all of his senses. Every place on him that Lance touched tingled with a warmth that sent goosebumps all over his body, and every breath they took in unison as they snoozed well past Keithâs alarm made his heart swell and his smile grow exponentially.Â
âMorning, Lance. Mmh, itâs so sunny and nice you could almost forget that itâs Monday,â he mumbled, rolling over so that he could face his boyfriend. âAnd your sleepy voice is just so sexy,â he giggled, pressing their foreheads together.Â
Lance scrunched up his face, still yet to open his eyes, simply holding Keith closer to him to stop him from wriggling around so much. âYeah, you can even hear the birds chirping,â he replied with a content sigh, purposefully skipping over Keithâs crass sentiment.Â
âAw, you also say really sappy, cliche things when youâre half asleep. Did you know that?â Keithâs aimed a toothy grin at Lance as he opened his eyes to lour, who merely pulled the pillow out from under Keithâs head and gently smack it back down over his face which a âwhumpâ.
Keith tossed it aside, rolling over to share Lanceâs pillow so that he could press a kiss to his lips. âThe first one of the dayâ he thought to himself, closed mouth to avoid Lanceâs nasty morning breath.
âHey Lance, you know you have terrible morn-â
Knock, knock.
âKeith, are you up? I heard your alarm go off. Breakfast will be on the table in five; donât make me come and get you.â Keith and Lance froze as Keithâs mother spoke gently through the door from the hallway. Keith even heard Lance hold his breath.
âYeah, uh, coming mum,â he called back. They waited for her footsteps to disappear down the hall before Keith could even tear his eyes away from the door, relaxing against his bed as Lance let out his breath with a disappointed sigh. He knew what was coming.
âOkay, Romeo, out you go.â Keith patted Lanceâs thigh as he pulled back the covers. Lance, left only in his sweatpants, laid firmly on the mattress shaking his head.
âNooo, I donât want to go. Let me stay,â he whined, attempting to pull Keith back against his chest before he could reach for the hoodie heâd stolen from him about a week prior.Â
âMum would kill me if she knew youâd been sneaking in at night, you have to,â Keith pleaded, eyes wide as he tried to force Lance out of his bed.Â
âKeith, Iâve been staying here about three nights a week for the last two months! You donât think she knows?â He asked, leaning over the bed to put his socks back on, tying his converse with a huff.Â
âNope,â Keith said frankly, shaking his arms until his hands poked out of the ends of Lanceâs hoodie. He climbed out of bed, catching one of Lanceâs arms as he grabbed his shirt, pulling him to his feet. âAnd she isnât going to find out. Now, window. Out.â Keith gave Lance a gentle push towards the second-storey window, an easily slidable roof just underneath it that would drop Lance in the front yard of Keithâs house. Lance held his hand up to his heart, scorned.Â
âNine whole months Iâve loved you and here you are, forcing your dear, sweet boyfriend out of a window to ride his bike the whole way home. How you wound me,â he feigned. Keith raised an unsympathetic brow, arms crossed over his chest.
âForsooth,â he mused, causing Lanceâs facade to crack with the upturn of the corner of his lip.
âAh, so you finally did your English homework,â Lance said, one foot already standing on top of the garage. He straddled the window sill as he slid on his shirt.
âI may has't,â Keith smiled before dawdling over to Lance, handing him his phone. âSee you at school.â
âDonât be late,â Lance said, standing fully on the roof so that he could lean back in, hands supporting him on the sill. âI love you.â
Lance kissed Keith sweetly, clearly not caring as much about morning breath as Keith did.Â
âI love you too,â Keith said before leaning in again, even if he knew that Lance did it on purpose, because Keith really just wanted to kiss his boyfriend. âBye.â
âBye,â they muttered to each other between short pecks before Lance pushed himself up, slid down the roof, and landed skilfully on the lawn. Keith watched him as he ran down to the street, pulling his bike out of the bush he had stowed it in, and rode off towards his own house. Keith watched until heâd disappeared over the crest of the hill that led to his street, actually enjoying the warm sun and the singing birds because Mondays were always good when he started them next to Lance.Â
âWhatcha lookinâ at?â Keith was startled back to reality by his motherâs voice. Heâd not even noticed sheâd come back up to find him.
âOh just⊠some birds,â Keith lied. Krolia stared at her son for a second.Â
âOkay,â she replied. âCome get breakfast, we have to leave soon.â
âCool, be down in a sec.â
***
Keith woke up tangled in sheets and all of the extra blankets he and Lance had thrown over themselves as they went to sleep the night before. His entire body was engulfed in the warmth of the strong arms holding him close, heat radiating off Lanceâs chest that was pressed tight to Keithâs back.Â
Lance groaned as they both stirred, instantly pulling Keith even closer as the raven wiggled around to face his boyfriend. Keith felt a sleepy kiss against his forehead as he tucked his face into Lanceâs neck. It was warm there. No need or desire lingered to go anywhere else.Â
Lance adjusted his feet to intertwine them with Keithâs. He, however, managed to pull the blankets with him as he did and for a brief moment, a gust of piercing cold air let itself into their safe cocoon. In unison, they gasped an indigent âAh!â and huddled in together, giggling as they found themselves safe from the dreary Monday morning weather.
They laid in silence, sharing soft, lazy kisses as the rain poured on outside. The windows were fogged and if they tried just the slightest it was as if nothing else in the world existed outside Keithâs bedroom.Â
Until they heard shuffling around in the kitchen below.
Keith let out a deep sigh, placing a few more kisses to Lanceâs defined collar bone before patting his side solemnly.Â
âHhh, you should probably go now,â he weighed the unfortunate words on his tongue as he spoke. Lance merely groaned in response, snuggling deeper under the mountain of soft blankets where the sting of the outside couldnât get him.Â
âKeith, baby. You canât possibly make me go out there. You wouldnât make me ride home in the rain,â Lance begged, holding him and rocking him, like a half-hearted shakedown. Keith huffed, considering his options for a second.Â
He peeked his head out of the covers, hair still a mess over his face. It looked so cold out there that his skin prickled just at the thought of it. But then he thought of his mother downstairs, catching them. Each rattle of a closing kitchen draw made his heart pound. It was a tough choice.
âOh my god, youâre gonna make me ride home. I canât believe my small, loving, sweet boyfriend is going to send me out like this. I could catch a cold Keith. Do you wanna be the one looking after this snotty-nosed bastard?â Lance persisted almost too loudly and pointed to himself.Â
Keith snorted and placed his hand over Lanceâs mouth to hush him. He thought about it for a second longer, eyes narrowed to a squint, shifting from the bedroom door to the window. Lanceâs eyes remained wide as he awaited Keithâs verdict.Â
âFine,â Keith said after a second. Lance whispered an elated cheer before pulling the both of them back under the blanket pile to cuddle.
Keith didnât know what his next move was, but while he was laying so comfortably and soundly in Lanceâs arms he was sure of one thing. That move was not going to be for many, many minutes. He opened his eyes so that he was just staring blankly at Lanceâs chest as the brunet carded a hand through Keithâs knotty hairâââthe pair simply pretending that it wasnât as such due to Keith sleeping like the dead, and Lanceâs fingers totally werenât getting stuck and tugging on a knot every few strokes.Â
Keith was almost completely lulled back to sleep when he heard a knock.Â
âKeith, I called you already what are you up to?â His motherâs voice became increasingly clearer as the door opened ajar and without a second to lose he threw the blankets over Lanceâs head, holding them tightly up to his chin. He hoped it looked like he was just really cold, and that their entangled bodies just looked like Keith under a mass of about four quilts.Â
If Krolia knew anything, she wasnât letting on; Keith thought he was safe.
âOh, yeah, sorry. Bit hard to get out of bed today. I have to plan my course wisely to get from here to the warm shower with as little time in the antarctic hallway as possible,â Keith explained, trying to appear nonchalant as Lance feathered kisses to anywhere he could reach on Keithâs chest without moving. Krolia nodded inconspicuously.Â
âOkay, well, breakfast is on the table, get it while itâs hot,â she told him taking a step back out of the room. She stopped, however, just as she was about to close the door. âOh, and there is a place set for Lance too,â she eyed Keith smugly, a faint smirk on her lips as she closed the door.Â
Keith heard a quiet âoh fuckâ from under the covers and, well, yeah. That.Â
Here is my entry for @klfirstdatezine âs cute meet challenge. #klfirstdatezinechallenge
_____
âAllura, I really donât think I could pull this off,â Lance called through the change room curtain, the bright pink walls startlingly indifferent to the several others Allura had dragged him into that day.
âIâm telling you, youâll look hot,â she replied, her hand sticking through the side of the curtain to pass him more clothes, by the shrill sound of her voice, she was having way too much fun. Lance sighed, tugging on the end of the cropped sweater sheâd made him try; it barely covered his nipples, he couldnât go out like that!
âCould you at least get me a bigger size? You said I should show off my abs, not get arrested for public indecency,â Lance frowned at the mirror. Sheâd paired the blue and red article with white jogging bottoms, and Lance couldnât help but feel like he was in some bad 90âs music video.Â
Allura hummed and stepped away, probably waiting for him to come out and show her. He was usually really confident in what he wore â though to be fair his usual blue jeans and white and blue t-shirt were the best that H&M had to offer. Maybe getting more into fashion would help him step outside of his comfort zone, maybe ask that guy he always saw on campus on a date. Lance shook his head, stomach churning and a headache forming on right on the bridge of his nose. He was being silly.Â
He scuffed the floor with his shoe. âAllura, come on, how long do I have to do this for ââ Lance ripped the curtain open, coming within inches of vibrant violet eyes; Allura nowhere to be seen, The man smiled, his dark hair tucked behind his ear with a pen. NoâŠ
âWell, Iâm not Allura, but in my opinion, you can stop looking now. Damn,â he whistled. Lance felt his face heat up even more, his blush taking over his headache as he moved away to give the guy from campus some space. Lance had no idea he worked here! How had he not seen him when he walked in?
âUh,â Lance said, though he meant to say thanks.
âYou donât look happy,â the dark-haired Adonis said, brushing the hoodie with his hand quickly, right over Lanceâs almost exposed peck, with his head tilted. Ah, so he was clairvoyant.Â
âI just donât think I look good,â Lance admitted, hanging his head.Â
âWell, you already know what I think, but I think I can help you style it better. Put on those black jeans,â he instructed, pointing at the pile hanging on the hook in the change room, then he went over to a bucket of accessories placed on a husband-chair.Â
âOkay,â Lance said, closing the curtain behind him again, red-faced. How was this happening? âDonât let Allura hear you say that.
Cute campus guy sent chills through Lanceâs entire body as he wrapped his hands around Lanceâs waist to fix a loose belt with large grommets along it. Lance had to hold his breath as the guy came around to his front, having to stand on his toes to fix a plain black cap to Lanceâs head, almost losing his balance. Lance reached out a hand to steady him gently on his waist. Well, there went his stomach.
âWhat do you think?â The guy whispered before stepping back to look at Lance through the mirror. Lance checked himself out, then cute campus guy, shhh. But, then himself again. He looked⊠Good?Â
âI just donât have anywhere to wear it,â Lance shrugged. The clerk bit his lip.
âI think I know a place you would like. I could take you there,â he said. Lance looked at him, wide-eyed, and nodded, making him smile. âIâll put my number on your receipt. Nameâs Keith,â Keith told him. Suddenly, Lance didnât mind that Allura was still rummaging around the store for things to put him in.
The Pond Behind the Mansion: Klance Drabble - teddyylou
The pond behind the mansion was a nice little spot to sit by in the summer, even though it was just about frozen over at this point. And even without the swill of bird songs and the dandelions, Â Lance guessed that Keith was still probably out there anyway.
Many days heâd laid in the grass next to his lover, watching him daydream until the falling pollen itched his nose, sitting in serene silence and staring out at the rolling hills of the mansionâs estate.
His family was rich, it was their money, not his, Keith had said once. Lance had never heard something more true. Keith whiled away day and day by the pond behind the mansion, he treated every ant like an equal. Out of all the life in the area, there was no creature more gentle, sweeter, kinder of heart, than his boyfriend.
But as the grass curled up under the snow, and the only thing that fell were snowflakes that littered Keithâs jet black hair, the desolate white that stretched on further than the eye could see became a blank canvas for thought.
Lance walked through the halls, saw that painting that Keith liked to explain to him. He waved to the staff that heâd come to know, the staff that Keith treated like friends. It was quiet, the hallways still with the frozen emptiness of the barren winter air. The overcast afternoon hung heavy on the hallway, the corners dark as the skylights shed only a hint of the day into the large room.
Stepping out into the backyard, the snow crunched silently under Lanceâs boots. Not enough to disturb the peace of the wonderland.
He rubbed his hands together against the cold, breathing out a whirling cloud as he searched the grounds. Beyond the almost black bark of the oak trees, the only thing that stood out against the white was him. Old and worn skates tied in neat little bows, layers of dark clothing that almost made his small frame disappear beneath it. Lance frowned at his hung head, and hunched shoulders as he stood upon the frozen lake.
He watched Keith push himself to and fro, gliding slowly from foot to foot on the ice, a dawdle of a movement. Barely a scuff of his foot against the dark surface.
Lance tied his skates quickly, huffing out the cold air as it entered his lungs. He approached gently, not a twig or stone breaking as he drew near. Lance touched his blades to the bank of the pond, catching Keithâs attention. For a moment they just stood in knowing silence. For the pond behind the mansion was his now. All the money did belong to him. Out of the two things he had in that mansion that could be taken away from him, the world had picked the wrong one, leaving Keith with the thing heâd be happy to go without â stripping him of the other, which heâd held dearest.
Lance propelled himself gently towards Keith, stopping before him, and taking his ice-cold, pale hands in his gloved ones. He rubbed Keithâs cold knuckles under his concealed thumb, and soundlessly, he leaned down and rested their foreheads together.
It had only been days since his dad died. And heâd saved all his posters. Mere days since Lanceâs hoodies were replaced with someone elseâs. Keithâs fatherâs clothes hung off him loosely, pulling his usual strong stature to the ground. Keith crumbled under the sentimentality of the memory. Lance breathed in against Keithâs hair.
Keith didnât smell like Lance anymore, and it was like Keith didnât smell like himself anymore. But he wasnât himself at that moment. Lance didnât know if Keith would ever be the same self again. Keithâs dad was the best dad for him; he was all he ever could have needed.
He encouraged Keith to not be shy about his relationship at home or at school. He took Keith to concerts and hockey games. He let Keith be who he was, he let him be a normal teenager without the weight of everything that was coming to him. Cause money could be gone tomorrow, but his dad was gone today, and it was the only thing that couldnât be undone.
âIâm happy I got to have as much time as I did with Dad,â Keith said, his voice wavering against the cold -- soft, like he hadnât used it in a very long time. âI didnât lose him as a little kid, ya know. We had a real relationship where he saw me as another adult. We were best friends.â He said, his skates sliding between Lanceâs so that he could be pulled into his chest.
Lance could have said a million comforting things. But nothing could be said that didnât already hang in the hostile air. Nothing that wasnât being said in the way they stood together against it all. At the pond behind the mansion, nothing needed to be said out loud. It laid bare, it swam with the fishies. It was all they needed, so it was all they took.
âIâm so glad I have you,â Keith said, though he didnât need to.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
hey guys!! here is my newest drabble, both parts can be found on my instagram, but here is the whole version on ao3 xx
Iâve been pretty hit or miss with posting my work here but if you wanna catch all of it, my works first get posted to https://www.instagram.com/_teddylou/
i think iâm going to become an unreliable narrator. if you see me obscuring the full truth or saying things that directly contradict each other, donât worry about it.
It's a big will I won't I at this point @teddyylou - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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