https://instagram.com/p/BZq4uudjfYO/

"Okay, okay I get that public indecency is illegal, but this is a hypothetical situation. So would I technically go to jail?"

"Matt, I'm pretty sure that if you mooned your boss for firing you, she, one, wouldn't find it attractive at all, and two, would definitely call the cops."

"It's hypothetical!"

Lance snorted with laughter, and Keith even cracked a grin. The five of them sat around a bonfire on the beach, lounging in plastic chairs as the stars poked through the night sky above them. The sun had set an hour ago, and after dinner Shiro had decided to make a fire, just to prove to Matt that he could.

Now they were seated with long, metal, pronged forks, golden marshmallows on each point. Pidge had thrown away any and all techniques and was just shoving the fork into the fire, letting it burn for a second, and then smooshing it between the graham crackers and chocolate.

Lance felt woozy from the amount of s'mores he'd eaten, but they were so good, he couldn't help himself. All the while, Keith had been spending a good 6 minutes on a single marshmallow, moving around the fire for the perfect little oven to cook it. Shiro laughed at him- he and his superior dad powers could make the perfect mallow in mere seconds.

"Shiro," Lance called across the flames, "Are you looking for a relationship?" He was thinking about Allura.

"Woooah!" Shiro laughed suggestively, and Matt slapped his thighs.

Lance flushed in embarrassment, "Don't be a dick, I meant that I have a friend." He looked at Keith nervously, gauging his reaction. It was too dark to see, but if Lance had looked closer, he would've seen the slight relax in Keith's features as relief washed over the lines in his face.

"Oooh~," Matt commented, "who?" Shiro looked interested as well.

"Her name's Allura. She's a mer, of course, and she's seen you before."

"Allura," Shiro said, rolling the name over his tongue. He smiled to himself.

"Also, she's pretty much royalty- or the closest you can get to it in a community. Her dad is the chief elder of the council, so she'll be taking over soon."

Shiro nodded, "Well, if she's ever available, bring her up. I'd love to meet her. She can stay here, if Matt's alright with it." Blind date, check. Lance did a small victory dance in his head.

"Speaking of mers," Shiro said, "I know this is a tough subject, but when are you going home?" Lance blinked, and he saw Keith look up from the fire at the mention.

Reclining in his chair, Lance sighed heavily. "I really don't know, to be honest. Alfor never told me how long I was supposed to stay, he just wanted me to be up here until I had enough information. I didn't really know what I was getting into, to be honest. But, it wasn't like I was going to..." Lance paused nervously.

Keith leaned forward, "It wasn't like you were going to what?" Lance's face crumpled like paper, but he looked Keith straight in the eye, taking him off guard. Lance's deep blue eyes flashed with fire.

"It wasn't like I was going to let you die."

Keith's heart was racing, and he felt like everyone around the fire could hear it, over the flames, over the waves on the shore beside them, over the night breeze that trailed through his hair. Lance's skin was amber in the firelight, and his eyes were wide and serious. Keith didn't know if he could look away. "What?" he managed to say. Breaking out of his trace, he noticed that Shiro, Pidge, and Matt had all gone silent too.

Lance stood, feet sinking into the sand, eyes downcast.

"When a human sees a mer, the council finds out one way or another. Alfor has an odd ability to force you to speak truthfully, there's no way you can lie to him. Once it's been confirmed, the mer is banished and the human is," Lance gulped, looking down into the flames of the fire, "killed." He held his hands over the flames and fell silent.

Keith shifted uncomfortably, letting the meaning of Lance's sacrifice sink into his skin. Lance had left his home, the comfort of his village, the safety of the sea, felt the wrath of the mer community and put his own life at risk for Keith.

Matt seemed uncomfortable, and Keith watched as his eyes shifted around, trying to come up with something to say to break the fragile atmosphere. Slowly, the tension lessened, and they were able to start up a new conversation, but Keith was still reeling from Lance's words. Ordinarily, he'd paint his feelings away, but- Oh. That's it. He could paint his feelings away.

Keith looked to Lance and stretched, "Lance, do you want to do that painting thing now? I have time." Lance's eyes grew with excitement, and he nodded eagerly. Keith felt a shiver run down his spine. How was this going to play out?

...

Keith fidgeted at his stool, pencil in hand, staring at Lance. The mer was in his true form, his slick blue tail curved to accommodate the width of the room, sail raised to its full height. Keith could hear Lance's breathing from across the silent room, coming short and fast. Lance had mentioned that it was because his lungs were so small.

The transition leading up to this moment had been awkward, but worth it. In order for Lance to remain in his mer form, he had to stay in contact with water. As long as he was at least partially submerged, no matter how little water he touched, he wouldn't change back. So, Lance had changed in the bathtub, then kept his pointer finger submerged in a glass of water as Shiro carried him back to the art studio, then laid him on an old quilt as Keith positioned him into his desired pose.

Lance swirled his finger in the glass of water as Keith mixed tones on his palette, relaxed and comfortable. He lay on his stomach, head propped up by one hand, gills fluttering. Keith had thrown the double-doors to the beach open as a background. A cool breeze off the ocean left Lance with goosebumps, and the edge of the quilt flipped up and brushed against his damp skin. Shirtless, the air was cold upon contact with his shoulders, back, chest, as water droplets still clung to him. He felt water drip off the ends of his hair as it dried. He shivered.

Keith's breath was coming faster now too as he glanced at Lance over and over, matching and mixing colors with the tones of his beauty. pressing tan and brown and blue and silver over his palette, he smoothed down his hair.

"Stay still," he murmured, and Lance turned to him, expression neutral. Keith, perched on his stool, began the sketch, eyes flicking back and forth between Lance and his canvas. He didn't want to spend too long on it- some paintings took him days to finish. He guessed this one would take him 3 hours at the most, as he wasn't going into extreme detail at all. He decided to use an impasto painting style with oil paint, where he laid the paint thickly and 3D, even if it took some time to dry. The effect would make Lance's scales look more realistic, though, and he hoped that Lance would like it too.

Keith studied the curve of Lance's back, the way his shoulders arched and the small of his back lead to his tail, how his sail rose from his back, grew in height, and then declined to sink back into this midpoint of Lance's tail. He observed how scales merged into skin, how Lance could illuminate the stripes and spots and freckles.

The air had a light tension in it, but it didn't feel negative. Keith began to accept it as a good kind of tension as he sketched out Lance's back in pencil. He slowly started to feel his admiration for the beauty of the being before him connect to the actual individual, and soon all he could think of was how pretty Lance was.

Keith froze.

What?

Keith looked up from the sketch and stared, wide-eyed, at the mer. Lance's tail flicked up every few seconds, and sometimes his sail shivered or twitched. Lance himself did not face Keith (Keith explained that he couldn't paint faces well, so he'd paint the back of Lance's head, plus, then Lance wouldn't be staring back at him), and the breeze ruffled his drying hair. Keith's hands took over his canvas as he began painting, and he let himself slip into a trance, his favorite part of painting.

Lance's caramel skin streaked across the canvas, blending with the deep blue hues of his tail, the dozens of small scallops of paint that created his scales, a small brush creating the texture of his soft brown hair, and then long strokes of navy paint, dotted with white specks of stars that created the night sky. Keith lightened the aura around Lance's body on the canvas, and it created the image that he was glowing.

Keith paused. Lance was glowing. Something about having this surreal, flawless figure in front of him, something he'd never thought to be real... it took Keith's breath away. He wondered slowly, could other things be this real too? A love, maybe. A connection. Keith looked again at Lance. He couldn't stop.

An hour passed. And another. Neither spoke, and neither wanted to. The silence was peaceful, and the ocean provided enough white noise for both of them. Keith didn't notice that Lance's figure had slumped until he looked up from his canvas to study the structure of Lance's arms. He'd folded, resting his head on his forearms, and his eyes were closed. Keith smiled softly and pulled from his memory the form he wanted to finish up Lance's pose.

The rest of the painting was easier, the sand, the waves, and floorboards. Keith had included the glass of water on the canvas, even if it looked a bit odd, and he was surprised that even while Lance slept, he still remained in contact with the water.

It would take a good two days for the paint to fully dry, so he hoped Lance would be alright with that, but the finished product was pretty good, in Keith's opinion, and he was genuinely proud of the piece he'd done.

Now to wake Lance without startling him... Keith hopped down from the stool, noticing that his hands and clothes were covered in paint, and walked towards Lance slowly. He knelt beside the sleeping mer and leaned down.

Lance smelled like a flowery mix of cherry blossom bubble bath (one of Shiro's products) and salt water, and its light scent was nearly intoxicating. Lance's freckles glowed light blue, which Keith admired, and his long eyelashes kissed his cheeks. Keith watched the rise and fall of Lance's back, the smooth brown skin moving with his breath, and his eyes drifted towards Lance's sail.

The thin webbing that held the spines together was translucent, and upon a closer look, tiny spots of luminescence dotted the skin. Keith felt a sudden urge to touch the sail, and slowly, silently, he reached out and let his fingertips touch the sinewy skin. A jolt passed through his hand and he jerked back, but it only urged him on.

Keith reached out again and placed his hand against the first spine on Lance's back. Pressing gently, Keith moved down Lance's tail, smoothing down the sail like dominoes until it relaxed flat against Lance's tail. Satisfied, Keith looked back to Lance's face. He really was a deep sleeper, Keith confirmed to himself.

Lance's breath blew over a piece of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, and Keith blinked hard. The sail had been one thing. Touching Lance's face... there was no guessing if he'd wake up at this. Steeling himself, Keith made up his mind. What other time would he be able to do this? Recognize this silent beauty? Lance still held resentment against Keith (or so Keith thought).

Keith reached out with one finger and slowly pushed the lock of hair out of Lance's face. His heart hammered in his chest.

And then Lance's eyes opened.

Keith heard his heartbeat roar in his ears as Lance slowly sat up, propping himself up with on hand, the other in the glass of water still. He didn't say anything. Neither did Keith. Lance's eyes were wide and slow-blinking, grogginess apparent. His lips were slightly parted, and his breath whistled through them softly.

Keith was frozen in place, stuck to the spot by Lance's giant blue eyes. Stubbornly, the lock of hair fell back in front of Lance's eyes, but this time, Keith was hesitant to push it back. He didn't move and was surprised when Lance looked down at Keith's hand, tilting his head to the side.

It all seemed so... primitive and awkward and weird, but Keith reached up again and gently pushed Lance's hair back again. The heel of his hand brushed against Lance's cheek, and the mer leaned into Keith's palm, eyes closing.

Keith was stuck to the spot. What was this? Lance couldn't possibly...?

Before he could think much more about it, Lance spoke in a soft, gravelly voice. "Bring me a robe, will you?" Keith stumbled to his feet, walking quickly to the bathroom to get it for Lance. His cheeks were hot and his mind was racing, but he focused on the task at hand, grabbing the robe from the door of the bathroom, fingers clutching the material as he tripped over his feet to get back to Lance.

Upon returning, Lance had sat up completely, pulling his tail in front of him, yawning. Keith handed Lance the fabric and stepped back, not quite sure what to do with himself. His eyes grew wide- seconds after Lance lifted his hand from the glass, the tip of his fin curled in on itself, losing its blue luster as the scales smoothed to mahogany skin. Lance hissed in pain as the tail split, and Keith looked away just in time as to not see anything R-rated, blushing profusely.

He heard the shuffle of fabric, and then the presence of Lance behind him. Keith turned slowly, and startled by how close Lance was. The mer was a few inches taller, so Lance had to tilt his chin to look down at Keith.

Keith's mouth went dry, and Lance brought his hands up to cup Keith's cheeks. They were shaking. Keith swore he could still see the light blue pulsing of his luminescence on his cheeks, and he had to blink a few times to see clearly again.

"As expected," Lance murmured, and Keith almost melted at the sound of his voice. Lance pulled away, smiled, and walked out the door, leaving Keith and his pounding heart standing in the middle of the studio.