"Shiro, you've got to be kidding."
"Yeah, this is me joking," Shiro mumbled into his pillow.
"Fine, fine you're dying from the plague or whatever and can't go —"
Shiro groaned pitifully and dropped an arm across his fevered forehead.
"— but then why can't Adam do it?"
"Keeeith."
Keith let his head fall back so he groan himself and frown at the ceiling. "This is the most ridiculous — I'm willing to bet you got sick on purpose to force me to go in your place."
"He didn't get sick on purpose," Adam interrupted as he lightly elbowed Keith while squeezing past where Keith stood in the bedroom doorway. He set a tray covered with soup and medication on the bedside table so that he could lean in and check Shiro's forehead — tutting quietly when the back of his hand touched burning skin. "Need you to sit up for some medication," he said quietly.
Keith's face unknowingly softened as he watched Adam — who had come into their lives a few years ago and was one of the very few people who had ever felt like family to Keith, mainly due to how well Adam loved Shiro — do his best to take care of the patient.
Keith knew Shiro loved his kindergarten students, but no one in their household appreciated their habit of sharing all the germs, leaving his older brother on his figurative deathbed at least once a quarter. Keith had no idea how Shiro hadn't developed a working immune system by now, but sick or not, Keith wasn't about to forgive Shiro for the current situation.
Adam adjusted Shiro's pillows once he was upright and set the tray of soup in his lap, determined to get him to eat something before he dozed off again. His dedication to tending to Shiro didn't stop his mouth from pulling into a smirk as he side-eyed Keith.
"You're gonna be late, Keithers."
Keith had given up complaining about the nickname a long time ago. Instead, he just sent Shiro one more glare — illness be damned — and pushed off the doorframe to gather up what he needed.
"Couldn't resist coming back?"
That voice had his stomach swooping a bit — the exact thing he was trying to avoid and the very reason he'd told Shiro last time that he'd never accompany him to these things ever again.
Keith stood from his crouch and turned to face the photographer for today's shoot — Lance.
"Shiro is sick, so…"
"You don't have to make excuses to see me again, Keith."
Keith was momentarily stuck between being shocked that Lance remembered his name (he'd mainly stuck to the background last time they'd met) and wanting to make sure Lance knew that he was not here by choice.
"Shiro really is sick," Keith insisted.
The teasing glint disappeared from Lance's wide blue eyes (and why did Keith miss it?) as Lance switched to concerned. "Oh, I'm so sorry, man. I hope it's nothing too terrible. And, hey, if we need to reschedule for him, we can."
"Today is fine, it's just, like, flu," Keith murmured, kicking himself for already dragging down the room's mood. Whatever. It wasn't like he was about to admit to Lance that he'd wanted to see him again. 'Cause he didn't.
"Ready when you are, Lance," Coran stated as he approached them and handed Lance a camera.
Lance brightened as he accepted the camera and then turned back to Keith. "Is our star excited?"
The smile he flashed at Keith had Keith pinned where he stood for a moment, before physically shaking himself out the daze and crouching once again. He'd spent a solid fifteen minutes chasing the star down at their house earlier in order to get the resistant animal into his carrier. Thankfully, Jet allowed Keith to lift him up now — without any additional scratches — so that he could stand and turn back to Lance with the large, fluffy, black cat filling his arms.
"Where do you need him?"
Instead of answering, Lance leaned in close to where Keith stood, sending a pleasant whiff of cologne (or was that pleasantness just Lance's natural scent?), as he got eye level with Jet.
"You're ready to sit and look beautiful, you big, handsome stud?" Lance cooed.
And after watching the extremely energetic and charismatic photographer at work the last time Keith had been here with Shiro for one of Jet's photo shoots, Keith wasn't at all surprised by Lance's current interaction with Jet. If anything, it was Lance's genuine discussions with the cat that had had Shiro signing a contract with the photographer.
No, the surprise came when Lance met Keith's eyes and winked before straightening back to his full height and spinning on a heel to lead Keith and Jet to the set.
Keith squeezed Jet tighter to his chest so he could murmur quietly into that dark fur. "I'm going to need you to help me out here, Jet. I'd really rather not look like a dork in front of that guy, okay?"
Jet meowed and swiped a soft paw towards Keith's chin.
Keith took this as an acceptance.
"I trusted you," Keith hissed privately at Jet not five minutes later when Jet refused to sit on the couch situated in the center of today's set. He carried Jet back to the couch and did his best to gently place Jet back on the plush cushions. "Please just sit here," he whispered.
He'd already chased Jet around the set twice. And while Lance looked cool and calm where he stood waiting, Keith could feel himself begin to overheat (although he wasn't sure if it was from the running or from the small smile he could see on Lance's face as he watched Keith retrieve Jet once again).
Praying to the cat gods that Jet would be the professional he was trained to be and just sit on the damn couch, Keith took a few tentative steps backwards. He kept narrowed eyes on Jet and took advantage of his moment of freedom to pull the hair tie from his wrist in order to at least get his hair off the back of his neck by pulling it into a messy bun.
There was a sharp inhale behind him when he finished and he turned, alarmed, wondering what had possibly gone wrong now. Lance wasn't watching Jet, though, he was staring at him with wide eyes and an expression Keith couldn't read.
"Everything okay?" Keith asked slowly. He wasn't sure what Lance was staring at — it wasn't like he could've really embarrassed himself further just by taking a few backwards steps just now.
"Fine," Lance whispered out. "Uh, yeah, everything's cool," he continued, his voice returning to normal as he turned his attention to the settings on his camera.
"Well, he's actually sitting on the couch, so please tell me you're getting some of these shots."
"They don't call me the sharpshooter for nothing," Lance replied with a quick grin in Keith's direction.
"I'm assuming they is just the cats," Keith deadpanned, and then silently rejoiced at the sound of Lance's loud laugh in response. Keith was distracted, however, by a familiar furry being wrapping himself around his legs. Keith stumbled slightly (And, seriously? Had his legs suddenly forgotten how to maneuver after years of learning how to not trip when Jet did this?) before he caught himself by grabbing the first thing he could — Lance's upper arm.
"Jet, please," he whispered, although not quiet enough for Lance not to hear, as Keith watched another smile cross Lance's slightly pinkened face.
Plus, they were still, you now, pretty close considering Keith was currently hanging from Lance's bicep.
Keith found his footing and scooped Jet back into his arms so he could (gently) plop him back on the couch.
"Stay there," Keith growled before retreating off the set.
Jet trilled and quickly followed Keith. He bumped his head into Keith's shin and meowed again. Keith scowled at him. Shiro and Adam spent actual hours of their free time training this cat to sit and look where directed. He was famous nationwide (in the cat world) for his print ads. He was about to move into commercials. There was talk of a role in a sitcom. Keith was about to be an uncle to a real star.
Keith didn't care. They'd been here less than twenty minutes and Jet was being a real jerk.
He moved Jet back to the couch and threw his hand up, mimicking the motion Shiro and Adam used to get Jet to stay. Jet tilted his head in confusion (Keith was sure it was mock confusion) as he proceeded to act as if he'd never seen that signal before and trill again while happily following Keith off set, tail flicking happily as he went.
"Not that watching this isn't the absolute highlight of my week," Lance finally interjected after Keith and Jet went through this routine at least four more times. "But, you know" — now it was Lance's head that tilted as his eyes roamed up and down Keith's frame (and there was that stomach swooping thing for Keith again) — "that's a pretty great outfit, and since Jet clearly wants to be with you, maybe you could sit on the couch and just let him sit in your lap?"
Yes, it was a nice outfit — his favorite red sweater over his tightest pair of black jeans — not at all chosen because he knew he'd see Lance today (shut up). But he had zero interest in being in an ad for cat food (or whatever this was for) only because he was able to perform a cat trick such as sitting on the damn couch.
But, because Shiro was counting on him, Keith sighed, defeated. He picked Jet up one more time and sat himself on the couch with Jet in his lap. Similar to how they hung out at home, although their house wasn't this well lit, and he didn't have a cute guy aiming a camera at him.
"What am I supposed to do?" Keith asked, slowly.
"Actually, can you get Jet to just look up at you?" Lance moved to the side of the couch and shifted so that he could frame Keith and Jet's profiles.
"Jet," Keith called. Jet settled into Keith's lap and looked like he was going to take a snooze.
Keith sighed again. Sometimes Shiro shook a can of cat treats and used the noise to get Jet to look in a certain direction. Keith forgot the can of cat treats. He was going to have to resort to plan B.
Keith smacked his lips together a few times and made several kissy noises in a row.
Lance's laughter was immediate and loud and lovely, but Keith definitely hadn't been trying to make the photographer laugh that time and he felt his face redden in embarrassment. He began cursing his stupid brother's temperamental cat, and his stupid sick brother, and those stupid snotty kindergarteners —
"So, uh, you want to grab a coffee with me after this?" Lance asked, pulling Keith away from his private ranting thoughts. "I know a place where we can bring Jet in with us, that way we could go straight there, um, if you wanted to go?"
Actually, you know what? Shiro was a saint and kindergartens are notoriously adorable.
"Sure, sounds great," Keith managed to reply with a smile in Lance's direction.
Lance snapped the shot of the day. Jet bapped Keith in the nose with his soft paw.
A/N: I was gifted with an adorable story involving Keith's pet wolf for my birthday, so I'm hoping a birthday present involving pets works for you as well – happy birthday, Bluesarcelle!