The day started off warm and sunny, the McClain farm was glistening and booming with growth and buzzing with life. The plants were sunbathing and enjoying the fresh water supplied by the family as bees zipped through the lilac bushes and the chickens picked at the ground looking for remnants of breakfast. All the while, the watchful eye of the sun peered down at the lush fields with warmth and adoration. Even as the family shined with sweat, the sun did not move from its place high in the baby blue sky. The McClain property could always be described as teeming with life and growth, and, as it was passed down from each generation, the family did well to foster the earth. Each day they spent long hours working the land through intense heat and muggy weather, just for the satisfaction of watching plants emerge from the soil with the promise of providing for not just the family, but the whole town.

Lance, the loyal and dutiful middle child, was helping his mom weed the melon patch while his more mischievous little brother, Marco—who was supposed to be helping—was trying to lift the largest watermelons and show off his (unimpressive) strength. Lance shot him looks of disapproval, but his mom didn't mind as she laughed at the younger boy who was flexing triumphantly. While Lance wanted to be annoyed, his mother's laughter eventually spread and he let slip a toothy smile. His mom is a short Cuban woman with long, thick brown hair and large hot chocolate eyes. She's always sweet—except for when she isn't. She loves to sit on the back porch and read or host family gatherings, but most of all, she loves to tease her kids. Lance's father had left to take a fresh haul of strawberries and raspberries to the local grocery, which left open a small window to goof off just a bit. But his father returned a little sooner than anticipated and the tall farmer stepped onto the back porch and hollered for Lance.

"Ah, what now?" Lance hissed swiping his forehead on his sleeve. There was always something. His father always says a minute passing is a minute wasted.

"Get moving, don't keep your father waiting." His mom playfully swung a weed at him and he dodged it, hustling through the mud and kicking off his boots before entering the house.

"Hey, how're the melons looking?" His father adjusted his hat and gave him a friendly smile. Lance identified it as a farmer's smile, the kind that's extra toothy and extra cheesy. His father was raised a rancher and grew to be a farmer. It showed in the crows feet in the corners of his eyes and the roughness of his hands. But even though the man was calloused, he was gentle and kind. Though he was hard as steel when he needed to be, of course.

"Good. There's a lot this year." Lance answered shortly, ready to cut to the chase. He was never much for beating around the bush. Lance was in all aspects blunt and filterless—in the best way of course. His mother and father were similar in this aspect, they were always to the point. Though, Mr. McClain was hardly as talkative as Mrs. McClain, and Lance followed right suit with his mother. You could go as far as to say he was a yapper, even more so than his mom.

"Good. I have something for you to do." He continued without waiting for Lance's response, "The truck desperately needs an oil change. I would do it myself, but I still have a lot to do on the farm. My plate's full and I just don't have the time. I'd rather just pay someone." Lance had been waiting for that. The next task. The next project to distract him from his personal life. He'd gotten so use to it now, that by the time he finished this, he would be patiently awaiting the next task. His next excuse. He sort of resented that his family didn't even ask anymore, it was demands now. 'I have something for you to do'—never an ask.

"I don't know how to change the oil." Lance leaned on the counter. Sure, Lance can weed a garden, water some plants, and even maybe grow a thing or two. He draws a line at anything mechanical, it was never his strong suit. He could tell this had always disappointed his father, even if he never said it aloud.

"Oh I know," his father let out a hardy laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. "I was hoping I could give you some cash and you would take it in for me this afternoon."

"Uh, sure, I don't mind." Lance rubbed his neck, "I'll just run it over to that dealership in town..."

"Ah no, not them. Far too expensive. A friend of mine said to take it to this fella out of town. He doesn't charge a lot and he does good, honest work." He grabbed a pen and paper, "I'll get you the address." His father always believed in staying with local businesses, it's good to make sure the money goes back into the community.

Lance was given a wad of cash, the keys to the family truck, and a single paper with directions. So it's no surprise when he found himself driving down a dirt road feeling more and more like he's going the wrong way. Though, right as he was about to turn around, a small shack came into view. "What hillbilly bullshit is this?" Lance groaned. He's met this kind before, often they were old, senile, maybe racist and even homophobic. They'd spout off conspiracies and weird beliefs about the government, and Lance dreaded the idea of having to endure that for the next hour. Cheap local service be damned, he'd pay out of his own pocket just to avoid that bullshit.

He pulled up to the shack and knew it was the right place when he saw a small, faded wood sign: Keith's Auto Repair & Service. The shack was wooden and faded too, standing alone in the empty field with only a few trees accompanying it. There was a red truck parked out front in the grass—which was just a ring around the property before meeting a harsh line of brush and prairie. And the garage attached to the small house appeared just as sad as the rest of the place. Rusted and red, with signs of wear from the bright sun beating down and discoloring the once vibrant place. Metal scrap lay on the gravel driveway, patiently waiting its turn. There was a pile of chopped logs and an axe laying about and that was enough for Lance to rethink the situation.

"I'm getting murder vibes," Lance muttered as he stepped out of the truck hesitantly. Just then, there was a large wolf-like dog bounding out of the garage heading straight for him. Lance yelped and jumped back into the truck slamming the door behind him. "Down Cujo!" Lance yelled at the dog from the open window. The dog just circled and barked at him in response. "Vete! Vete!"

"He's friendly," called a voice from the garage. Now, Lance is fully expecting some senile old man, the only kind of guy you'd expect to live far outside of town alone in a shack of course. He was not expecting Adonis himself to walk out of that garage. "C'mere boy."

Lance was captivated. Keith, or so Lance assumed him to be, was tall and square jawed. His shoulders were broad and the black tank top he was wearing left no muscle to the imagination. He was covered in grease and he wiped his hands on a rag and slung it over his shoulder. Lance couldn't help but look him up and down. Dark black hair, the color of obsidian, was swept back into a low pony tail. And the way he cracked a sort of a half grin, or a smirk, as he sauntered up to the truck and leaned on the open window... it made Lance feel some type of way.

"What brings you this way?" He asked in a low voice that made Lance swallow thickly.

"Uh, ah..." Lance stuttered, what was he here for again? "Oil."

"An oil change?" Keith squinted against the sun at the nervous man in front of him. There was something seemingly familiar about him, but he couldn't place it. Besides, he'd surely remember a handsome face like this one. His chestnut hair and glowing tan skin were something distinctive. His eyes were a striking blue and Keith was sure there was a hint of amber in them too. He liked the way the man's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. Keith especially liked the way he could see just a bit of color rising to the tips of the man's ears, just as red as the truck Keith drove.

"That's the one." Lance spoke relieved and promptly pulled Keith from his spiral of admiration. If Keith stared any longer he might pick out the dust of freckles or the small scar only about a centimeter long just above the man's eyebrow.

"Well, I think I can do something for you..." Keith trailed, looking for a name to finish his sentence.

"Lance McClain."

"As in the McClain farm?" Keith tilted his head.

"Right," Lance nodded.

"Well, in that case, I'll get right on it." He flashed a handsome grin and Lance gaped at him. "The name's Keith, Keith Kogane." He held out his hand and Lance eagerly took it. Lance thought his hand fit nicely in Keith's own calloused one.

"Nice to meet you," Lance thought about the way Keith's hands were larger than his own and showed signs of hard work. Lance knew because his own hands would be worse for wear without the mass amounts of moisturizer and care he puts into them. Keith didn't seem like the kind of guy to do that though.

"Likewise." And then Keith was pulling away from the window. "You gonna stay in the truck?" He teased.

Lance stared at him a moment. "Uh, ah no." And then Lance was hurrying to get out. He was quickly met by the dog, Cosmo, as Keith called him, and Cosmo licked at Lance's fingers and nuzzled into his legs. Lance bent over and gave Cosmo happy pets and scratches behind the ear. "Buen perro... buen perro..."

Keith disappeared into the garage and when he came back, he held out his hand. Lance looked at it strangely a moment. "The keys?" Keith raised an eyebrow.

"Oh! Right!" He pushed them into Keith's hand and felt his face grow warm with embarrassment. Lance has flirted before, and with very attractive people he might add, yet, he'd never been this nervous and scatterbrained. The dog looked up at him and gave him a pitiful stare which made Lance deflate, "Mierda..."

He watched Keith drive the truck into the garage and followed after him. The garage itself was messy and disorganized. Did this guy even bother tidying the place? Tools were strewn about, and dirt and grease covered every inch of the garage. "Feel free to sit anywhere, I'll be quick."

Lance looked around and located one lonely chair... ratty, old, and dirty. He grimaced, and decided he'd rather stand. In the meantime, Keith popped the hood and tampered with some of the stuff inside. "So, uh, you live alone out here?"

"Dipstick." Keith said with a finality that made Lance snap his mouth shut. Had Keith just insulted him? The dog trotted and grabbed a thin metal rod in his mouth and brought it to Keith. "Thanks boy." His gave the top of Cosmo's head a pat and took the tool. "Uh yeah, I guess, unless you count Cosmo." He answered Lance.

Lance realized he was first talking to the dog and mentally cursed himself. "Huh,"

"How's the farm? You guys always have excellent produce." Keith slid the stick down under the hood. Lance tried to ignore Keith's arms, the way they shifted and flexed beneath porcelain skin.

"It's good, we try to stay local, but we're growing. Just bought a few more acres last year." Lance made small talk as he watched him work.

Keith took the dipstick out and whistled. "Yeah, you're due." He wiped it off. "Your whole family works there right?"

"Yeah, for the most part. We have a few outside employees, and everyone in the family pitches in somehow. When I came back from college I got an apartment in town, but I spend most all my time helping on the farm." Lance watched as Keith grabbed a plastic container and slid under the truck. The view allowed him to appreciate the way Keith looked in the flattering jeans he was wearing. He didn't mean to stare, and quickly he moved his attention to the dog to pet him.

"Huh, what's your degree in?" He grunted as he worked under the truck.

"Uh, marine biology. With a minor in organic agriculture of course." Lance rubbed his neck.

"Marine biology?" Keith slid out from under the truck and wiped the oil off his hands onto a rag. Lance nodded self consciously. "Hm, cool." The corner of Keith's mouth twisted up into a pleased smile.

"What about you?" Lance avoided looking at him as he asked.

"Well, I have a degree in astrophysics, but haven't really put it to use yet. Just been sticking around here fixing anything people bring me." Keith said with a shrug, but Lance picked up on the disappointment in his tone. "There's a space program in Florida that's offered me a job."

"I know what you mean. I haven't done anything with my degree. A sea life program offered me a really good position in Florida." Lance took a daring glance at Keith.

Keith studied him a moment. "Why haven't you taken it?"

"Why haven't you?" Lance sighed.

"Touché," Keith got up to change the filter and he couldn't help but keep sneaking glances at the Cuban. He was standing awkwardly, clearly not wanting to sit on the ratty chair. He really needed to throw that out. It made him chuckle to see Cosmo sidled up next to him happily receiving pets. Cosmo rarely took such a liking to a stranger, Lance must be something special. "Where'd you graduate from?"

"Altea University." Lance answered.

Keith fumbled with the filter and his eyes flicked up to Lance. "Me too. What class?"

"No way, 2314," Lance grinned widely.

"We graduated the same year." Keith said in disbelief.

"To think, we probably passed each other a dozen times." Lance laughed, but he felt a little thrilled at the new discovery, it sent a buzz of electricity down his spine.

"Yeah, probably." Keith smirked, he doubted he saw Lance, he would remember a guy like this. He was a hard thing to miss. Bright blue eyes, chocolate brown hair and a radiant smile—Lance was someone that, after passing, you turn around to make sure your eyes didn't deceive you, that someone that outstanding and bright really did walk by.

On the other hand, Lance recovered a memory that had him reeling. Mind you, he was a flirt, especially in college. He had been in the library and saw Keith studying by himself, so naturally, he sauntered up to him and asked for his number. And Keith turned him down big time. "You! That was you!" He blurted aloud, his face turning a bright red.

"Huh? What was me?" Keith tilted his head.

Lance wasn't sure he wanted to bring up the memory, that was not his finest moment. Then again, he was petty as fuck. "The library ring a bell?"

Keith raised an eyebrow, definitely not.

"Can I get a reference number..." Lance recalled the pick up line he used to jog Keith's memory, "so I can look you up and check you out."

Keith's eyes blew wide. "That was you?"

"Yes! How could you forget?!" Lance scoffed.

"That pick-up line was terrible." Keith grimaced.

"It was genius!" Lance defended.

Keith finished changing the filter. "Whatever you want to tell yourself. It'll take a little while longer for the rest of the oil to drain, want a glass of iced tea?"

"Please," Lance nodded (albeit still grumpy Keith had wrote him off so quickly) and watched Keith slip out of the garage. Some time later he returned with a glass of ice cold tea. "Thanks," he took it and swirled the drink before taking a swig. And it was delicious.

Keith slid back under and pulled out the container of old oil. Lance watched in silence as he grabbed a funnel and container of new oil and poured it into the tank. When he was done, he shut the hood and stood next to Lance. "Looks like you're all set."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it." Lance happily took the keys. "How much do I owe you?"

Keith rubbed his chin, "Uh, thirty bucks should do, assuming you want to pay in cash and not with something else." He winked.

"What?" Lance's mind immediately went to the worst of places. How else would he pay him? What is he implying? His face turns red with embarrassment.

"T-that's not what I meant!" Keith stuttered.

"What exactly did you mean then?" Lance held a threatening tone in his voice.

"Uh, I mean, not like that. Just... I mean you're fine and all, but I mean... no you're..." Keith rambled trying to clear the awful misunderstanding. But the offended look on Lance's face only deepened the more he talked. And finally somehow the word 'ugly' slipped in there as Keith tried to overcorrect, and next thing he knew, Lance was throwing a glass of iced tea in his face.

Not Keith's finest moment.

Lance huffed, set down the glass with gentle grace, slapped $40 next to it (because he couldn't be bothered to count) and slipped into the truck. He rolled down the window, "Thanks for oil change, asshole!" And then he was speeding out of the garage, onto the dirt road, and leaving behind a trail of dust.

Keith looked down at Cosmo who just offered him a judgmental stare. "That's not what I meant!" He yelled, wiping the tea from his face.

Lance grumbled to himself the entire way home. He walked into his parent's house and dropped the keys and leftover money on the counter. "What's got you in a mood?" His mother asked, immediately able to tell something has him upset.

"Keith! He's a pig-nosed, stuck-up, smooth-brained... gragh! Give me another insult!" He screeched.

"Mouth breather?!" His sister chimed from the living room.

"Yes! Thank you! Mouth breather! That too!" Lance ranted.

"Woah, woah, calm down mijo." His mother laughed.

But Lance continued to curse Keith under his breath for the span of the evening. That was until his sister, Veronica, finally said later that night, "It's sweet that you have a crush."

"A crush?! On who?!" He squeaked.

"Keith of course."

"What?! I loathe Keith! Haven't you been listening?!" Lance stomped about the kitchen, washing the dishes from their family dinner.

"Yeah, I have, for three hours." She cracked a grin. "If you hate this guy so much, why are you still talking about him?"

Lance glared at her but couldn't find an argument. So instead he picked up his keys, stuck out his tongue, and left to go back to his apartment.

The next day, Lance's father and him loaded up the truck with a large haul of grapes. "You can take it on your own right," his father said, but it was less of a question and more a statement.

"'Course." Lance started up the truck and headed into town. Every grocery in town had the McClain goods, but that also meant a lot of driving out new product. When Lance arrived, the owner was already outside to greet him with a large smile.

Lance and two other employees unloaded the crates of delicious grapes. With the added help it only took about ten minutes start to finish. "Lance, I have some crates from last time, if you don't mind waiting a few minutes." The store owner scratched his beard.

"Yeah, I don't mind." Lance leaned on one foot as he stood idly in the produce section. He watched one of the workers stocking the fresh grapes, but his eyes wander to a man carefully inspecting the peaches (also supplied by the McClains), and it took him a moment to comprehend who he's looking at.

Keith fucking Kogane.

Lance quickly turned around and panicked. He was not supposed to run into this douche canoe of all people. He snatched up a magazine and held it open about an inch from his face. Lance squeezed his eyes shut and silently begged the owner to hurry his ass up.

"Lance?"

Maybe he's talking about another Lance, he thought hopefully. He held the magazine still and watched as a pair of boots stopped in front of him. Keith's hand curled over the top of the magazine and he pushed it down. "Oh Keith! What a surprise! I didn't know you were here!" Lance's voice raised a few octaves as he made awkward dramatic gestures with his hands.

Keith's head tilted and a lopsided grin spread across his cheeks. "That so?"

Lance nodded and cleared his throat as he tried to suppress the light fluttery feeling in his stomach. Gosh that smile could make a nun blush. "Not here to call me ugly again are you? I got the message the first time."

"I didn't mean—" Keith quickly stumbled to right what he had said.

"Here are those crates Lance. Thanks for waiting." The store owner wheeled around a flat stacked high with wooden crates. "Hi Keith!" He nodded at him, and then left. Meaning he had no intention of helping.

"Ah, thanks." Lance deflated at the sight of having to haul more crates. At least they're empty this time, he mused.

"Would you like a hand?" Keith asked when the owner walked off showing no intention of doing so.

Lance faltered. And then he was turning to look at Keith with dizzying speed. "I threw my tea on you last time, in case you forgot." Which was a shame, because the tea was delicious. He moved to grab the handle of the flat but Keith beat him to it.

"Uh, yeah, about that..." he let out a nervous laugh, "I wanted to apologize. I have a tendency to say things without really thinking them through first. That was one of those things."

Lance eyed him carefully before sighing. "Porque esto siempre me pasa a mi¿" He muttered under his breath. "Alright."

Keith grinned and started wheeling out the flat, Lance walking beside him. "You see, when I said 'paying with something else' I didn't mean... that." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Then what did you mean? You winked." Lance scowled at him.

"I'm not that kind of guy! I swear! I just meant—people often pay me with other things. Like Mrs. Baker!" He pointed to an old woman pushing her cart who gave him a friendly smile. "She pays me in pies. The best pies I might add."

"Oh sweetheart, I'll make an extra pecan pie next time for your McClain fella." Mrs. Baker rattled a delighted laugh.

"Fella?" Lance scrunched up his nose.

"How cute, I was beginning to worry how much time you spent alone in that shack with Cosmo. I noticed you talking to yourself last time I came in for a tire rotation." She grinned.

Keith's cheeks turned a bright fire truck red and he kept pushing the flat trying to get far far far away from Mrs. Baker. "As I was saying, she pays in pies, I have some people pay me in motor parts, a few that pay me in casseroles, and some even do repairs on my house for me. Mr. Fuer even knit me a sweater once."

"So you were thinking I might be paying you..."

"In produce." Keith finished nodding to the crates. "A-actual produce." He clarified just to be sure.

"Oh." Lance let out a breath. "Well that's a relief. Especially since I'd rather die than sleep with you." He walked ahead of Keith, pulling out his keys as they neared the truck. Lance would admit, he's a whirlwind of emotions and not all of his reasoning is sound. So his anger that Keith would propose fornication as payment now shifted into annoyance as to why Keith didn't want to have sex with him. So of course, he might as well strike first to get the upper hand. But Keith's reaction was nothing short of satisfactory.

Keith hurried to catch up. "You'd rather die? I mean that's a bit harsh isn't it? Surely you wouldn't rather die—" Keith tried to amend with a nervous laugh.

"Dead as a doornail, Kogane." Lance said solidly. He had to turn away to hide his smile as he heard Keith sputter. He reveled in the way Keith took him so seriously. He reveled in the turning of tables. "Surely you feel the same Keith. After all, you did say you think I'm ugly." Lance continued to tease the oblivious man. Keith had turned him down, insulted him, and all around given him a run for his money. So Lance is perfectly content teasing Keith. Especially when Keith is just so damn gullible.

Lance enjoyed the panic that took Keith. "You are not ugly. That was... that was an accident!"

Lance grinned smugly and opened the bed of the truck. "So then what am I, Keith?" He tossed a look over his shoulder to watch the mountain of a man crumble before him in an embarrassed red mess. Lance rejoiced that he got some of his edge back.

"I-I don't... what-I—" Keith stumbled, his cheeks set ablaze. Lance broke into laughter and it was then Keith caught on that Lance was making fun of him. "Insufferable. That's what you are." He said with a growl, irritatedly picking up a stack of crates and shoving them onto the truck.

"Aw, Keith, what's the matter?" Lance innocently tilted his head to the side.

Lance tried not to dwell on the fact Keith could comfortably move a few more crates in one go than Lance, and all without breaking a sweat. Keith grunted as he deposited a rather large stack into the truck. "Nothing!"

But Lance hadn't missed the way Keith's voice cracked at the word. A devious grin curled across Lance's lips. "Alright cowboy."

There was a loud bark that had them both freezing and looking up to Keith's red truck across the parking lot. Cosmo sat in the bed and was looking at them indignantly. He let out another angry bark.

"Cosmo! No!" Keith shouted, warning the dog, but it was too late. Cosmo leaped from the truck (it was magnificent, really) and he came bounding toward them, sights locked on Lance.

Lance could only let out an 'eep!' as two paws the size of dinner plates knocked him to the ground and he was suffocated by a soft wet tongue lapping at his face. "Cosmo!" Lance grunted trying to push the dog off him but he succumbed to the kisses and broke into a fit of laughter.

"Cosmo, get off him!" Keith panicked and tried to pull the moose off. "Cosmo! You're not getting a puppuccino on our way home!"

At that, the dog stepped off Lance and plopped down next to him. He whined, his ears laying flat as he looked guiltily up at his fur-dad. Puppuccinos were his favorite thing in the world.

Lance sat up and glared at Cosmo, but the dog's tail wagged with a happy thump thump thump. "I am so sorry, I don't know what got into him." Keith quickly tried to help him up. "He's never done that before."

Lance took Keith's hand and when he finally stood, he stretched his back out. "It's okay, he was just excited to see his favowit pewson." He cooed and leaned down to give the dog attention.

Keith coughed, "I'm his favorite person."

"I didn't see him tackling you with kisses." Lance raised his eyebrows as if to make a point.

Keith opened his mouth to argue and settled with a pout instead. He was Cosmo's favorite! He looked down at the dog and mouthed 'traitor'. Cosmo whined and walked to his fur-dad and circled him happily. "Cosmo is too smart for his own good." Keith shook his head.

Lance grinned down at the furry bear. "Yeah, Cosmo knows what's up."

But Lance and Keith would happily take those words back, because they could not have anticipated the dog's next move. Cosmo kept trotting around them, circling them with a delighted prance. And one moment the two are talking, and the next Cosmo is jumping, though not quite with the previous amount of force. Lance gasps as two paws land on his back and send him spiraling forward. And Keith is quick to reach out and save Lance from falling for the second time that day (that Keith is aware of—Lance is the local klutz after all).

And Lance is all too aware of the way he's pressed against that sturdy chest and strong arms are holding him, one looped under Lance's own arm and the other clutched the back of Lance's flannel. Lance's free arm is slung over Keith's shoulder and gripping his shirt tightly. Lance's posture was most definitely not what was holding him up, and the thought dawns on him that it's purely Keith, which was immensely hot and had Lance scrambling to right himself. He could feel the burn in his cheeks, creeping all the way up to his ears, and when he looked at Keith, he could see a similar response.

Keith had a constipated look on his face and he was quick to help Lance regain his footing. "C-Cosmo! What has gotten into you today?!"

Lance swallowed and despite barely trusting himself to speak, he knew he had to say something. "W-well I-um, better, uh, get g-going, um... thanks for the help!" Lance stuttered out nervously as he walked backwards toward the family truck. His back touched the vehicle and he awkwardly felt for the door and the moment his hand found the handle, he was scrambling inside. He sat in the front seat trying to catch his breath and slow the erratic heartbeat that was thrumming loudly in his chest. "Holy shit." He breathed. Where did Keith learn to make men swoon like that?

As soon as the truck door slammed shut, Keith glared down at Cosmo. "You mangy mutt. No puppuccinos for two weeks." Cosmo whined and made the walk of shame back to Keith's truck.

As Lance drove out of the parking lot. He watched Keith open the truck bed and attempt to push Cosmo back in who begrudgingly listened. Then Keith turned and walked the flat back inside. Only then did Lance's heart rate lower to something humanly normal.

Keith was flustered throughout the rest of his shopping trip. He was jumpy and clumsy, and during his endeavor down isle 12, he dropped a jar of pasta sauce. So of course Cosmo wouldn't stop licking his face the whole ride home because he could smell it on him. He also had an inkling it was Cosmo's retailiation for being grounded from his favorite treat.

Lance was quick to turn to the love experts.

"You did what?!" Hunk shouted over Skype.

"Lance, if you like this guy, throwing tea on him seems counterproductive does it not?" Pidge chimed in.

"See, normally you'd be right; however, at the time I wasn't exactly sure about him and it was really a misunderstanding, as I said." Lance rolled his eyes and continued to crochet. "And like I said, our next meeting was really good! He apologized and helped me load crates, and then we had a whole romcom moment!"

"See, but Lance, you have a tendency to make unromantic things seem romantic when you like someone. Remember when you were interested in Allura? You thought she liked you back because she said your ears looked hideous." Pidge grimaced at Lances very tragic romantic life.

"Or that time you dated Nyma and you thought she was avoiding you because she was planning a big surprise for your birthday and really she was... you know... cheating." Hunk seemed a bit regretful bringing this one up since the wound was a wee bit fresh despite it happening two years ago.

"I hear you both, but I really think this is different." Lance paused the blanket he was crocheting and looked pleadingly at his friends.

"But, didn't you say he already turned you down years ago back at university?" Pidge spoke softly like she was hating to be the voice of reason.

"Things change! I mean, maybe he wasn't looking for a relationship then, or he just went through a bad breakup." Lance wished Keith had said yes all those years ago, maybe then he never would have dated Nyma and had to go through his first real heartbreak. It turns out, when someone cheats on you, whether you were in love with them or not, it alters your brain chemistry entirely and you never fully recover from that.

"Lance..." Hunk began skeptically.

"Look, you both know I've flirted around, but I've refrained from dating anyone since Nyma. And Keith... I feel like even if it doesn't work out... he wouldn't do something like that." Lance averted his gaze back to the blanket. He picked at the thread, accidentally undoing a few stitches in the chain.

"You've only spoken to him twice though Lance. We... just don't want you to get hurt again" Hunk was wringing his hands. Lance got the feeling this conversation was going to drive Hunk to stress baking.

"Okay, okay... I won't pursue." Lance gave in. Yet, there was a nagging feeling and Lance wasn't entirely sure he meant what he was saying. He just couldn't shake the feeling that the interest has a sliver of hope at being mutual.

Lance felt lucky to live in a small town. Especially when he had been aching to run into Keith again. It was a whole month before Lance was blessed with another chance encounter with Keith. But, he was not blessed enough to have the encounter at a good time. You see, Lance loves to keep up with donating blood regularly. Every eight weeks, he makes an appointment to get his blood drawn for the good of people in need. It's especially helpful because Lance has O- blood which is relatively uncommon yet one of the most sought after. Lance was adamant about donating due to a traumatic experience when he was young. That being said, as a regular blood donor, Lance was used to pulling up at eight in the morning on a weekend in his pajamas to give blood and return to his apartment to watch trash reality TV and do a face mask. But just when Lance was settling in to the dialysis chair, Keith walked in. And when Keith saw him he smiled, and Lance had to pretend that his soul wasn't leaving his body. Lance's hair was a mess and he was wearing pajamas, and Lance couldn't believe he wasn't waking up from this nightmare.

Keith got checked in and when he was taken back to one of the dialysis chairs across the room he actually asked to sit in the one next to Lance instead. Coran came in to finally start drawing the blood and strolled up to Lance first. "Good morning my boy!" Lance watched as Coran prepared the needle. Lance has known Coran since he was in his early teens, and like it goes in all small towns, Allura is Coran's niece. "Ah, and Keith too! Good idea bringing your fella!" Lance felt his anxiety skyrocket at 'fella' being used to describe him and Keith's relationship.

"Morning Coran." Keith said rolling up the sleeve of the black hoodie he was wearing.

Lance couldn't even dwell on the fact that Keith didn't bother correcting Coran because it was time for him to insert the needle. Remember how Lance said he did this every eight weeks? Well, he flips out at the idea of getting poked every time. Once the needle is in there, he's fine, but Lance can't watch the needle enter his skin or he'll faint like a Victorian woman. In fact, he has a sort of tradition with Coran. But he wouldn't dare do it in front of Keith.

"Ready?" Coran asked.

"Yeah." Lance swallowed hard. But he also didn't look away and start singing Beyoncé like he normally does. So of course, Coran questioned him.

"Come on, no need to feel shy!" Coran smiled.

"What's the matter?" Keith asked.

"Oh, Lance hates needles. Can't stand the sight of them!" Coran was quick to rat him out.

Keith nodded like he understood. "Lance," he said to get his attention, "do you remember professor Wallerman?"

"Yeah? Why?"

"Well, I was actually a TA for him, and I had to grade a lot of the assignments. There was one paper; however, that really stuck out to me. It was well written and it talked about ocean horticulture. I just made the connection after our run in that the paper belonged to you."

Lance felt the pinch, but by the time he looked, Coran had already poked him and started drawing the blood. "Thanks Keith!" Coran rolled the chair around to start Keith's turn.

"Hey wait, you two were conspiring!" Lance blinked.

"Well, you just needed a wee distraction!" Coran grinned and prepped the needle for Keith. And Keith, that terrible abomination, watched as Coran slid the needle through the fine, porcelain skin. Lance gasped and looked away, trying not to think about it. The last thing he wanted to do was pass out in front of Keith. Lance already had plenty to be embarrassed about, and he couldn't show his face again if he added another thing to the list. Thinking it was over, Lance looked back only to see Coran moving the needle around to prod for a vein and Lance nearly lost it. "Lance, look away." Keith reprimanded.

"What's taking so long?" Lance tried to push down the wave of nausea at the thought of the needle moving under the skin.

"Well, Keith here has some tricky veins! Unlike yourself!" Coran let out a sigh of relief. "Got it!"

"Are you saying my veins are easy? Should I be offended?" Lance still didn't dare look until Keith said he could.

"You should be. My veins play hard to get because my blood is top of the line." Keith chuckled. "You can look."

Lance snapped his head to Keith at such blasphemy. "My blood is far better than yours!"

"I doubt it." Keith leaned back in the chair and glanced smugly at Lance.

"Fine, what's your blood type?" Lance quizzed.

"What's yours?" He scoffed incredulously.

"Why, you're both O- of course! That's quite lucky!" Coran chimed in, "O- is uncommon and also the pickiest for transfusions!"

"If I'm dying and there's no O- blood in the hospital, I'm giving them your number." Lance laughed, tilting his head back and trying to relax.

"You donate so much, if you're dying, you'll likely be getting your blood back." Keith said with a faint smile, the kind that was really endearing.

"That's true." Lance chuckled. "Hey wait, how do you know I donate regularly?"

"What?" Keith's eyes widened just a fraction like he'd been caught with a big secret. And that's exactly how Lance knew he caught onto something worth prodding about.

"You said I donate a lot, how did you know that?" Lance inquired again.

"Did I?" Keith suddenly seemed interested in the silent TV on the wall that was playing reruns of Gilmore Girls. "Luke is the best character."

"Oh and Sookie! She was always so—hey wait. You can't use Gilmore Girls to distract me, but we will be revisiting that conversation." Lance jabbed a finger in Keith's general direction.

"Okay, okay," Keith relented, "it's a small town and someone let slip that you'd be in to donate blood Saturday. I guess you must have been yapping about it to some of the employees at the grocery store while waiting in line. Supposedly."

Lance snorted. "That sounds like me. How did you know the exact time?"

Keith took a dangerous glance across the room to Coran. "There's more than one yapper in this town." Lance's eyes lit up with delight at the idea of Keith going out of his way to run into him. "If I'm being honest, this is only the second time ever that I've donated."

"Ah, but you're healthy and young, you should be donating regularly too. Especially since you're O-, my life may depend on it someday." Lance chuckled.

"You see, it turns out... I'm a bit of a fainter." Keith whispered loudly.

"But, you're doing fine!" Lance peered at him suspiciously, trying to look for any signs of dizziness in Keith.

"I guess we'll have to see. I feel fine." Keith shrugged. "Why are you so adamant about donating anyhow?"

"Hmm, well, when I was younger—like maybe thirteen, fourteen—I was in a car accident with my family. Everyone was okay, but I received enough blunt trauma to cause internal bleeding around my heart and lungs. I was rushed to the ER and I needed emergency surgery. But the funny thing about living in such a small town and having the pickiest blood type... they didn't have any O- blood. They had to start testing family and even people from town came in to test their blood type to see if it was a match." Lance explained.

"What happened? Did they find a match?" Keith looked invested in the story as if he was concerned the main character would die, as if Lance wasn't alive and well telling him the tale.

"Unfortunately for me, yes, my sister was a match. So now, for the rest of my life, she will play the 'I saved your life card' and get away with it. I'm doomed to an eternity of doing favors for her. One year, she was in charge of my birthday cake and she had written on it 'you're welcome for giving you life' in pink frosting. It's really given her a complex."

Keith laughed, but it simmered as he seemed to ponder the story. "Did it hurt?"

"I think. I mean, brains are kind of funny like that when it comes to traumatic experiences, I hardly remember most of it."

"I understand." Keith nodded in such a way that Lance couldn't help the feeling that Keith really did understand, like he had his own baggage. "Sookie is good, but not as great as Michel."

Lance and Keith bickered as Coran came back to check the bags. "You're all done my boy!" Lance looked away when Coran pulled the needle out and quickly covered the spot with a cotton pad. He wrapped his forearm with the cohesive bandage and went to check on Keith's progress. "My, you're a much slower bleeder."

And Lance did not leave. Instead he sat across from Keith and continued to talk his ear off. They jumped to topics outside of Gilmore Girls surprisingly, such as the university they went to and some of the professors. Somehow they ended up talking about dorm life which led to crazy dorm stories. And then just stupid decision stories and so on. And Lance actually felt a little disappointed when Keith finished, even though Coran let them sit a while.

Though, a window of opportunity presented itself when Keith went to stand up and his knees buckled. "Hey dude are you okay?" Lance reached out, but Keith caught himself and sat down, looking a little... oh yeah, faint.

"I'm good, totally fine. Fit as a fiddle." Keith nodded albeit a little pale.

"The fitness of this particular fiddle seems to be a bit subjective." Lance said worriedly. He waved Coran down, and they had the opportunity to sit for another twenty minutes just sipping on juice and munching on snacks. This time, when Keith stood up, he was fine, and they walked out together. "Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Keith nodded. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," Lance smiled and they went their separate ways to their separate cars, both failing miserably to get anything started. The moment Lance sat down in the driver's seat, he cussed at himself for not asking to get Keith's number. Only, across the parking lot, Keith was doing the same.

It was a week before Lance made his next move. Or, better said, it was a week of festering and pacing and obsessing before Lance decided to do something about it. He got the idea when he was getting in his car to head to the farm.

He strolled into his parents' house and it was over a cup of coffee that he asked his father, "Theoretically, if I needed to take my car in for something, what could that something be?"

His father looked at him over the top of the newspaper. "I don't understand what you're asking."

"Let's say there's something wrong with my car, something urgent enough to bring it in, but not urgent enough that I can't drive it and that it's a quick fix. What could that be?"

"Uhh, oil change I guess?" He shrugged, "Lance, why are you asking me this?"

"But my oil's already been changed, I did it only like two thousand miles ago. I can't go in for that." Lance thought about it.

"Are you trying to find an excuse to take your car in?" Mr. McClain stared at him in confusion. But then understanding flickered in his eyes. "Ohhh, you want to see that Keith fella." He nodded with a smile, "I heard he was quite the looker."

"What?! No! I just... want to make sure my car is completely, one-hundred percent a-okay. Actually, never mind, this is stupid." Lance tried to rush away, but his father stopped him.

"It's alright, I did something similar when I fancied your mom. She was leading dance lessons in town and I saw her in the window one day teaching someone to tango. She was so beautiful. So I signed up for classes..." he coughed embarrassedly at the memory. "It was a senior class." Lance beamed hearing his father's side of the story. His mom had never told it this way before.

"It took three classes doing the salsa with seventy-year-old Ursula Gomez to get your mom to go on a date with me." He rubbed his chin recalling their meet-cute. Mr. McClain shuffled to the key rack and plucked off a set that had a blue Pom Pom keychain. "These are your sister's. I'm pretty sure Veronica said she needed to take her car in for an oil change soon too. I'm sure she wouldn't be opposed to you taking it for her. Be quick though, she's out in the field so she can't stop you."

Lance's grin grew a few times larger as he took the keys. "Thank you!" He hurried out, "Also I'm going to take a crate of fruits and veggies!"

"Wait, what?!" His father snapped back but was too late as Lance was already off. He shook his head and sighed, "Aye, malditos niños." He went back to the newspaper and sipped his coffee.

Lance packed a crate with one watermelon, a few apples and peaches, corn, a container of raspberries and a container of sunflower seeds, three cucumbers, and a few vines of grapes. He unlocked the car and put the produce in the back seat.

"Lance! What are you doing!?" Veronica yelled from the field. Lance quickly hopped in the drivers seat and Veronica caught on that he was taking her car and started into a full run. "Don't you dare Lance! I'll fuck you up! LANCE!"

He didn't hesitate to put it in drive and started backing out of their long gravel driveway. He rolled down the window and yelled: "LOVE YOU SIS!" And then he was leaving her behind in a trail of dust while she stomped angrily and spouted obscenities in his direction.

Lance pulled up to Keith's and stepped out of the car nervously, this time for a whole different reason. He had several opportunities to turn around and go home, but now it was too late. He took out the heavy crate loaded with goods and shuffled toward the garage. He peeked inside and found it empty. The truck was out front, so surely Keith was home. He then made his way to the actual house and awkwardly balanced the crate on his leg as he knocked quickly. It was quiet for a moment and then he heard barking coming from inside.

Only a moment passed and the door opened quickly. And then Lance was face to face with Keith, in all his mullet-headed glory. His hair was pulled back into a small bun with the hair at his nape hanging out, too short to join, and the same went with some of his bangs that were hanging loosely around his face. He wore a loose black t-shirt that said 'I believe' on it with a UFO and he had a pair of nicely fitted blue jeans. He folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Lance? What are you doing here?" His eyes fell on the crate of produce and his arms fell from their folded position and he stood up straight again.

"Uh... how about another oil change?" He held up the crate awkwardly.

A smile crept up on Keith and he nodded. "Uh, yeah, um... let me change quick." He glanced down at his shirt and flushed. "You can come inside." He took the crate from Lance and left the door wide open. Lance followed him inside and shut the door behind him. He was pleased to find the home much cleaner than the garage, though that was a given. It was rather homey in fact. The couch was old and worn but it looked soft, especially with all the blankets. It struck Lance that it was much like an old person's home because of the shag carpet and dark green walls. And there was a TV but it was beside a few pillars of books which a Lance picked out a few titles of: The Turn of the Screw, The Martian Chronicles, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and some strange copy of a book called Wieland by Charles Brockden Brown. The book selection was mildly pretentious; however, the spines of the books were worn in a way that insinuated they were all read thoroughly and with great interest, maybe even multiple times. There were a few pictures in frames, one of which had Keith and Cosmo smiling which Lance liked a lot, and another was of Keith and two men who both were holding hands. Another picture was of Keith, Cosmo, and one of the men from the previous picture, except, all three of them were in lobster costumes. Lance laughed and picked up the picture to inspect it closer.

Keith walked out of the kitchen and went to go up the stairs when he caught sight of Lance looking at the picture. "That's my brother and I a few halloweens ago." He smiled leaning on the railing.

"Cute." Lance smiled putting the picture back.

"Cute?" Keith quirked an eyebrow.

"I was talking about Cosmo. He looks so cute in his widdle lobster costume." He cooed. At the sound of his name, Cosmo appeared at the top of the stairs and his tail wagged. He let out a boof and ran down the stairs to nuzzle into Lance's legs.

Keith chuckled, "I'll be right back."

Lance would be lying if he said he didn't look at Keith's ass as he went up the stairs. And when he was sure Keith was gone, he took the furry head in his hands and looked Cosmo in the eyes. "Your dad is super floofing hot and I'm gonna romance the floof out of him." And then he added, "Don't tell your dad I taught you swear words."

Lance kissed the top of the dog's head who just panted and reveled in the attention. Lance let his eyes wander around the living room and he found himself exploring a bit. He perused some more pictures and an assortment of DVDs which had Lance reeling when he saw box sets of Star Trek, Star Wars, Gilmore Girls, and Karate Kid. Seriously, who was this guy?

Lance moved on and picked up the book Wieland since he had never heard of it and fumbled through the pages. He didn't even bother committing to reading the description before going to set it back down.

"Have you read it before?" Keith asked from the top of the stairs.

Lance startled and let out an exasperated "No," as he set it back where he found it.

"You should keep it that way. It's a strange book." Keith came down the stairs and Lance felt his cheeks grow warm. Keith was wearing a loose black tank top and athletic shorts and Lance could see everything. Well, not everything, but he could see the defined muscles of his arms, and the open armholes showed off pecs and if Lance got lucky... abs. It displayed his broad shoulders and he could see every back muscle flex and tense.

"How strange?" Lance asked peeling his eyes away from Keith.

"Very, very strange. I had to read it twice and the book still throws me. Also, I'm almost positive there's incest." Keith stopped just a few steps from Lance and nodded toward the book. "I've read better from Brockden Brown."

"So, I assume you like to read then?" Lance cleared his throat and ventured to look at Keith again.

"Yeah, there's not much else to do when you live by yourself in the middle of nowhere without cable. It was either reading or crocheting, and I already know how to read." Keith cracked a smile. "Oh and thanks for the produce, farm boy." He said as he walked out the front door.

Lance sputtered. "Who're you calling farm boy?!" He chased after Keith and followed him out to the car. "At least I'm not some country bumpkin!"

"Living in the country doesn't make me a hick." Keith snickered.

"Well... well... the 80s called, they want their mullet back."

"It's not a mullet." Keith rolled his eyes and held out his hand for the keys.

Lance held them out of reach. "Admit that it's a mullet."

"Lance," Keith grumbled. When Lance showed no signs of caving, Keith made a grab for the keys and Lance yanked them away.

"Say it..." he dangled the keys.

"Fine..." Keith huffed, but then a mischievous smile formed on those tempting lips. He whistled, "Here Cosmo!"

The dog perked up and ran the few feet, jumping and making contact with Lance. Lance was sent forward slamming into Keith who didn't even seem to flinch at the impact. Instead he snatched the keys from Lance's hand and dangled them high. "Hm, good thing I'm taller."

Lance felt his competitive spirit burn in his chest, Keith knew the comment would rile him up. Lance wanted to spout a good comeback, make Keith grovel at his feet. Something. But all that came out was a stream of stutters and confused noises. "Using Cosmo is totally cheating!"

"What? No it's not!" Keith gave Cosmo a proud pat on the head. "You're not grounded anymore." He told the dog and Cosmo wagged his tail so much his butt wiggled with it.

"Traitor." Lance mumbled to the dog.

Keith started for the garage and Lance pouted. This wasn't necessarily bad, it just wasn't going the way he thought it would. He figured Keith would take the hint that Lance wanted to jump his bones by now. Unless Keith wasn't interested. That was a scary thought.

Lance watched Keith pull Veronica's car into the garage. He sidled up next to Cosmo and continued to pout as he watched Keith change the oil. Keith slid the tub under the vehicle to let the old oil drain and slid out.

"Can I get you a glass of iced tea? As long as you promise not to throw it on me this time." The corner of his mouth quirked up.

"I can't really promise anything." Lance said as he followed after Keith. He remembered how good the tea was last time, and how little he got to enjoy it. They walked up the porch—which Lance stumbled on but played it off expertly—and to the kitchen. It was cute, like in an old person house kind of way. Only it wasn't granny's house, it was Keith's, and Lance found that inexplicably sweet.

Keith pulled a pitcher from the fridge and poured a glass with a few ice cubes in it. He handed it to Lance proudly. "All it's missing is one of those mini umbrellas." Lance laughed taking it.

"Actually..." Keith opened a few drawers looking for something until he finally found them. He pulled out a mini umbrella, opened it, and set it in the glass. "I learned how to make puptails. It's like mocktails for dogs. So one night Cosmo and I... what?" Keith noticed the way Lance was staring at him.

"Nothing, it's just..." Lance sighed, "how are you even real?"

Keith snorted, "I'll make sure to invite you to our next boy's night."

"Please do." Lance was no stranger to the weird hobbies that come from being alone. Or just the strange nights when you realize that you're very much single. Just a few nights ago, he wound up laying on his kitchen floor in just his boxers eating Bugles off his fingers.

Walking out of the house, Lance was very much captivated by Keith. Lance wanted him bad, and could you blame him? Lance didn't want to just jump his bones, he wanted to do all the gross domestic stuff too. Like go grocery shopping together, or take Cosmo for walkies.

"Oh." Lance was hoping it might take a little longer at the least.

"What?" Keith cocked his head to the side as he wiped his hands off on a rag.

"Nothing." Lance teetered on his feet. He was hoping for maybe a little more out of this visit. "Um. But..."

"But what?" Keith looked like he was waiting for something too. Like he wanted Lance to make the first move.

"I think the car was making a weird noise while I was driving up here." Lance lied.

"Oh? What did it sound like?" Keith leaned against his tool bench and folded his arms.

"Uh, like a clicking noise." Lance hoped that was convincing enough. He knew jack-all about cars.

Keith licked his lips and waded over to Lance, standing a little close to be written off as just two bros talking about cars. "Was it now? Usually a clicking noise means the oil is dirty or low, and the oil wasn't bad enough to cause the sound when you got here. So that makes me think it's one of two things: either you need your CV joints replaced which is pretty serious and expensive, or you're making it up because you don't want to leave yet." There was that wolfish grin like he caught Lance. "So, should I check your CV axil?"

Lance swallowed. "I-uh..."

"Well, if it is your CV joints, it probably wouldn't be safe for you to drive. And I don't have the parts to replace it laying around." Keith smirked.

"So I guess I'll have to stay for a bit then?" Lance's eyes flicked down to Keith's lips which were looking incredibly enticing. "Darn."

Keith was the first to give in, his lips rushing forward to taste Lance's. Lance nearly buckled at the amount of pent up tension in the kiss. It felt like the damn finally fell apart and now a flood was rushing out of both of them. Keith grabbed Lance by the hips and pulled him against his taller figure. Lance reached up and buried his hands in dark wavy hair all the while his thumb ran along the small scar on Keith's jawline. Lance liked the neediness of the kiss, the demanding give and take was intoxicating.

Keith pushed further into the kiss until Lance's back was against the passenger side door of the car. Lance reveled in the feeling of being caged between Keith and the hard cool surface of the vehicle. A thought crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. He could never, he really shouldn't. But once the thought came, he couldn't really shake it. Lance's hand flew out and felt around for the backseat door handle. When he found it, he clicked open the door and pushed Keith around the door and to the backseat. The back of Keith's legs hit the lip of the car and he flopped onto his back across the cloth seats. Lance climbed in after him, straddling his sides. Lance felt satisfied to see the smile Keith was sporting, looking up at him like he was the best thing since sliced bread. But then Lance moved down against him and Keith's head tossed back and suddenly maybe Lance was even better than sliced bread. "God, how are you even real?"

"I know, I'm pretty amazing." Lance boasted as he shifted on top of Keith again.

Keith reached up and dragged Lance down to kiss him again. God, jeans were the actual worst. Lance couldn't feel much through the thick denim, just the satisfying pressure which had him aching for more. He envied Keith for his nylon shorts which were far more ideal in this type of situation. In fact, Lance could easily see Keith's arousal through the thin fabric which only amped Lance up more. Though, Keith seemed to have a brilliant and very original thought for a solution to the jean problem. His hands glided from Lance's thighs up and up until they were on his hips, and then he was pleading for Lance to take them off. And Lance does not need to be told twice. Immediately, his shaky fingers are working against the button and Keith took part by addressing the zipper. Taking off your pants in the cramped backseat of a car while balancing on top of a man who took up quite a bit more space than yourself is not an easy task, and Lance is worse off with just how jittery he was with excitement and arousal. Though once he was down to his briefs, he was immediately getting pulled back down for a hasty kiss from Keith. Sure, yeah, he could chill in his briefs.

Lance felt Keith moving up against him and it was so much better than before. He let slip a noise of relief and quickly began to reciprocate the movements. His hand tightly gripped the handle on the ceiling of the car and used it as purchase to grind down on Keith. Keith's hands wandered up Lance's frame and underneath his shirt, fingers gripping at the soft flesh.

Lance was on cloud nine, and just when he thought it couldn't get any better, Keith sat up, grabbed Lance, and flipped them. Lance had been doing most of the work, but now Keith was taking the reins and Lance let his head tilt back against the seat. His heart was pounding out of this chest looking up at Keith whose hair was falling out of the small bun it had been pulled into. He was handsome, and he was practically glowing with the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Keith's broad shoulders hovered above him and with each thrust, Lance was seeing stars. Keith tore off his shirt and leaned down to continue his onslaught of kisses. Lance couldn't resist touching, feeling the sturdy muscle under his palms and sighing with pleasure.

"Oh my god, my sister is going to kill me." Lance said suddenly, his brain finally coming online after getting off with Keith. Lance was laying on top of Keith again and the realization had him jumping up.

"Why?" Keith asked, hardly coherent. He tried to pull Lance back down to where he was lying on top of Keith's warm, toned chest. Lance nearly gave in.

"I just—and I—" Lance hands flailed about in a dramatic expression, "in my sister's car!"

Keith's eyes snapped open. "What?" He sat up quickly. "Your sister's car? I thought this was yours?"

"No!" Lance shook his head. "I needed a car that was due for an oil change!"

"You brought your sister's car in for an oil change just to see me?" Keith seemed to forget the very urgent matter at hand with the new information.

"Yes, catch up!" Lance was trying to wiggle back into his jeans which was even more difficult than taking them off. "My sister already wasn't happy I stole her car, can you imagine if she finds out we just—" Lance gestured between the two of them, "in her car!"

Keith's cheeks were a bright red. "Well, I guess she won't find out right? I mean, the mess is in our pants, and as long as you don't leave anything in here..."

"You better hope she doesn't!"

Keith rolled his eyes, "It's your fault. You moved us to the car, and I was under the impression this was your car to defile."

Lance let out an offended noise and threw Keith's shirt as his face. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't have been so desperate as to do it in the nearest car if you had picked up the hint that I liked you sooner."

Keith scoffed and rolled his eyes, "You were the one sending the crazy mixed messages. One moment you're throwing tea at me and saying you'd rather die than sleep with me, and the next, you're giving me bedroom eyes while discussing CV joints."

"Hey! The tea was deserved at the time! And I only said that to mess with you. It's not my fault you're so much fun to tease." Lance folded his arms and he watched Keith slip the shirt back over his head.

Keith gave him an incredulous look.

"Alright, alright," Lance put up his hands, "I take twenty-five percent of the responsibility. No more, no less."

"Insufferable." Keith muttered, but there was a fondness to his tone.

"What's insufferable is how gross I feel. I'm going to have to drive back sitting in my own—"

"Unless,"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you wanted to shower. I could lend you some clothes." Keith offered.

"Oh I see." Lance gave a sly smirk, "You wanna grope for trout in a peculiar river."

"What?"

"It's how Shakespeare referred to bumping uglies." Lance wiggled his eyebrows.

"Oh my god, how do you even know that?" Keith tried to hide his laugh in his hand, but the way his shoulders were shaking gave him away.

"You're insinuating parallel parking. The ol' no pants dance."

"Oh my god, no I wasn't, shut up." Keith shook his head, unable to help the laugh bubbling through.

"I wasn't born yesterday. You want to Slytherin a Hufflepuff!"

"Lance! Oh my god, I'm begging you." Keith draped his arm over his face. "Separate showers."

"One more," Lance licked his lips, "checking the oil, if you will."

That one really got Keith. "Say any of those again and this will be the closest you ever got to getting laid."

Lance snorted and leaned forward to capture Keith's lips again. This lacked the haste and neediness of the previous kisses, but Lance somehow enjoyed it the best. It was sweet and the kind that left him breathless with butterflies. "Okay."

"Okay what?" Keith pulled back to look at Lance.

"I'll stay." Lance kissed him sweetly again, savoring the feeling of Keith so close. Veronica didn't need her car that bad. She could use his car if she really needed; he left his keys after all.

Keith seemed pleased with Lance's answer. And suddenly, Lance was eager to see what Keith had in mind for their evening.

While Lance showered, Keith made them dinner. When Lance padded out feeling fresh and clean wearing Keith's clothes which were just a bit too big, he felt like this was the start of something serious. Especially when he saw Keith, freshly clean holding out a plate of food. They sat together on the couch and ate and talked for hours. Then, Lance scavenged through DVDs before settling on a pick. He triumphantly held up Banshees of Inisherin.

"That happens to be my favorite film." Keith collected their empty plates and carried them to the kitchen.

"Well, that's a coincidence, because this happens to be my favorite film." Lance announced as he put the disc in the DVD player. He settled onto the couch and checked his phone seeing many unread messages from Veronica. Lance grimaced and sent her a quick text telling her to use his car.

Keith settled in next to Lance and draped a blanket over them. Lance felt cozy pressed against Keith's chest, while Keith's arm wrapped around Lance's shoulders holding him close. Cosmo hopped onto the couch and curled up at their feet.

Now that the sun had gone down, the room was pitch black and Keith reached up and turned on a lamp. The light was warm and it cast a glow across Keith's skin. Lance reached his hand up and turned Keith face to him so he could plant a kiss to his lips.

Lance felt so bad about stealing Veronica's car, he filled the car up with gas and ran it through a premium car wash. And while there was no remnants of their activities in the back seat, Lance still decided to vacuum and dust the inside of her car to make up for the guilt.

"What did you do to her?" Veronica asked as Lance handed her the keys.

"Nothing! I got her an oil change, a car wash, and I cleaned the inside of the car!" Lance's voice was a bit high pitched to be normal.

"Is that all?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Yes!" Lance bit his lip. "Well..."

"Did you and that mechanic fuck?" She glowered at him.

Lance cut a look over to his older brother and sister-in-law, and even their employee Beth, who were trying to enjoy their morning breakfast. Everyone was staring at him waiting for an answer.

"No, we did not fuck. Way to be crass." Lance scowled.

"Yes, because that explains why you're wearing clothes that aren't yours and never came back yesterday to give me back my car." She folded her arms cheekily.

"That's it, you asked for it. Keith and I got freaky in the backseat of your car."

Veronica erupted and began to chase him with a wooden spoon. Lance yelped and hauled ass.

"Guys! We got something in the mail from Lance!" Veronica announced to the house. Her fingers ran over the familiar handwriting of her brother, and while she wouldn't admit it, she missed him dearly. It had been a long time since Lance had come to visit from Florida. Within moments of Veronica's call, people began to emerge from the depths of the home. Little ones rushed down the steps and Mrs. McClain came out with curlers still in her hair. One of the younger siblings opened the back door and ran out into the field to get their dad and Beth. When the McClain clan was finally gathered, they opened the letter.

"Awww it's a Christmas card from him and Keith!" Mrs. McClain stared at the picture fondly.

"Ew, they're wearing the matching sweaters Mr. Fuer knit them." Veronica pretended to be unimpressed. "They even put poor Cosmo in a Christmas sweater."

"I think it's cute!" Her mother chastised.

"Look there's more!" One of the kids dug their fingers into the envelope, she pulled out more photos.

"It looks like they finally got their engagement photos back." Mr. McClain took them from the young one, and held them out for everyone to see.

"He sent me a picture of what their announcements are going to look like, so they should be coming soon." Mrs. McClain chimed. "Awww mijo looks so precious in this one." She snatched one of the photos in particular. "And Keith is so handsome." She took the photo and put it on the fridge.

"Great, now we get to see their mugs everyday." Veronica teased.