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"Sooo," Lance said casually, leaning against the doorframe of Keith's art studio, "About that painting." Keith didn't turn to look at Lance, doing his best to highlight the melting swirls of an ice cream cone on his canvas. Hyper-focused, Keith didn't reply.

"Keith?" Sighing, Keith turned. Lance wasn't going to just go away like a normal person.

"What, Lance?" He said tiredly. It was late, 10 or 11 at night, and he really didn't have the energy to sort out all of his emotions right now.

Lance's face was alight with the soft rays of moonlight that flitted through the curtains of the studio. The hem of his shirt rode up above his low-waisted jeans, and his caramel brown skin was exposed. Keith looked away. "I wanted to know about that painting you offered, remember?"

Keith turned around to fully face Lance. "I didn't offer. You insisted." He crosses his arms.

"Well, whatever the case, are you still willing? I said I'd pay you." Lance's expression was serious, a rare occurrence.

"Fine," Keith said vaguely, flicking his hand to shoo Lance away.

Lance frowned, and flicked his hair out of his eyes. "Well if you're gonna be like that, maybe I don't want it after all."

Keith paused. His eyes drifted once again to Lance's stomach, wondering what shade of acrylic he could use for Lance's smooth skin. He blushed, involuntary, and shook his head, "No, seriously. I'll do it. Just let me know when you have a free few hours."

Lance smiled a little, "Now?"

The offer was tempting, but Keith was tired, and he realized he'd be up several more hours just getting the basic sketch done. "Tomorrow," he said finally.

Reluctant, Lance nodded, then said goodnight and headed to the staircase, up to the attic. Keith turned back to his canvas and sighed heavily. What the hell was he doing? The tide-like push and pull of his holed-up emotions tugged at his shirtsleeve, but he kept his brushstroke even, breathing in and out to the sound of the waves outside. Just keep everything in.

...

"Alright, Lance, take it slow. Reeeally slow." Tensing, Lance lightly rested his flip flop on the gas pedal, testing the sensitivity. The car tumbled beneath him, and he felt slightly disturbed at the destructive power he held in his hands, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.

Lance put some more pressure on the pedal and the car lurched, then slowly began rolling forward. "Good," Shiro commented, surveying the empty parking lot they were in, behind a small Walmart complex. "Turn the wheel, then," Shiro added, and Lance complied nervously, turning the car in a loose circle. He heard his heart in his ears.

The inside of Shiro's car was cool from the summer heat, despite its black seats. Lance felt awkward and gangly with his long legs, but the seat was comfortable and Shiro's comforting words lessened his anxiety. That morning, Keith had insisted that Lance go out with Shiro to learn how to drive, as neither had work.

"You can go a little faster now- don't worry so much, you're not going to crash, just keep alert." Lance nodded tersely, trying to relax. "Once you've got the feel of things, let's do some laps."

Shiro was right. After he'd warmed up a little, he found that he actually liked driving, the little turns he could make with a slight shift, along side Shiro's encouragement. Understanding struck him when he realized that Keith must feel even better driving, on his motorcycle that is, because it was so open and agile. The dips and sway of the bike must be even better than the confines of the car. Lance smiled to himself unintentionally.

Time flew rather fast, and after about two hours of pulling through the parking lot through back roads and suburban lots, accompanied of course by Shiro's commentary on different rules of driving (i.e. turn signals, on-ramps, stop signs, traffic lights, and whatever else he could think of that Lance wouldn't understand), they stopped in the same lot they had began in to trade places.

Lance agreed that Shiro was a really good teacher, just like Matt had said. He was easy-going and kind, sort of like an older cousin or something. Lance had so much extended family, he really didn't know where Shiro would fit in his hypothetical human family.

The California driving laws entailed that Lance had to have a driving class, then pass the test to get a provisional permit, and then have 50 hours of driving to get an actual license.

First, Shiro had friends at the car dealership that would likely give Lance the lessons he needed, which solved problem number one. For number two, Shiro would drill Lance with information once he'd gone through his class to make sure that he'd pass the exam on the first go, which took care of that. And three, if Shiro and Lance did an hour of driving a day, they'd be done by the end of August.

Speaking of which, when would Lance have to leave? Shiro frowned slightly. Would he go back to the ocean after the summer? Shiro knew that personally, he felt a growing friendship with the mer, no matter how weird his backstory was, what withal the mermaid village and Council. Shiro made a mental note to ask Lance about it later- he didn't want to ruin the good mood.

"Oh, by the way," Shiro started as he and Lance stepped out of the car to switch places, "there are a few errands we actually need to run and if you want, you need a phone." Lance's eyes lit up. He'd learned about phones in school and now observed as every human seemed to have one, blank-faced at the illuminated screens.

Lance had been meaning to get one and had actually wanted to ask Shiro or Matt to look at theirs just to see how it worked, what it actually was, but he'd been too nervous to ask, not to mention busy. Pidge, though, had shown Lance a computer, and explained the internet to him. They said that a phone was basically a compact computer, but they had an old phone, which they called a flip-phone (as well as several explicits), which Lance could tell was old and clinging to life. Pidge said they had an emotional attachment to it though, so Lance didn't judge. Plus, Lance had been excited to see the clunky old phone- as he recognized it.

Back in the village, Hunk had a collection of human appliances, and Lance remembered seeing one of the phones before, though not quite understanding what it was at the time. As much as Lance goggled over the tiny screen and clicks buttons of Pidge's phone, he knew he preferred something like Keith's, a slim tablet like the rest of the group's.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Lance said after a moment, slightly embarrassed at how he'd drifted off a bit.

"You can get anything you'd like, as long as you pay for it and you don't get a Samsung." Shiro leaned in closer to Lance, dark eyes serious, "I won't have you going to the dark side." Lance blinked.

...

"It's so cool!" Lance crooned, flopping over the console as Shiro sat down in the car, laughing to himself. Lance had settled on an iPhone after all, and had immediately found a light blue case with bling-y sparkles on it. Shiro had kind of let his inner-diva come out while Lance decided on a phone, making the two of them take selfies and buying Lance a coffee from the next door Starbucks while the mer signed paperwork.

"So shiny," Lance sighed, eyelashes fluttering. Shiro was trying to stifle laughter. Lance was too oblivious, too naive. It was adorable (in the most platonic way possible).

Shiro suddenly remembered something Keith had mentioned earlier that morning to Lance, and decided to ask, "By the way, Lance, is Keith painting you something?" Lance looked up from his screen abruptly at Keith's name.

"Yeah," he said slowly, thinking to their conversation the previous night. "I hope so. He said he would tonight," he added, shrugging. To be perfectly honest, Lance was very excited. Not necessarily for Keith's company, but more at the opportunity to understand the guy more. He felt like he hardly knew him.

Shiro smiled knowingly, "I hope so too." Being the dad-like, all-knowing queen he was, Shiro knew exactly what was going to happen between the two at some point or another. It was just a matter of time.