Keith loved to cook. It relaxed him after a long day of stressful work. Well, his job as a teacher at the local community college wasn't that stressful - usually. He taught Art classes. They generally went fairly well, but being in a classroom with a bunch of artistic personalities sometimes took a toll on his patience. Especially now that the semester was coming to a close and the students were frantically trying to finish their final projects.
Cooking saved his sanity. There was something about taking a few ingredients and making something special. He thought of it as an extension of his art. Both forms were similar. Using only a few things, he could create something beautiful. Cooking was the same, only it tasted good and you ate it.
The college where he taught was in a college town, home of a much larger university – a place where Keith hoped to teach someday. Not that he didn't enjoy the laid-back atmosphere of the smaller community college at the edge of the town. He just knew he would be able to make more money at the larger university. Maybe buy a house instead of living in a small apartment in a building full of loud students. Finally get that privacy he craved. Maybe a dog or four.
That thought caused him to glance guiltily at the majestic large and fluffy animal perched on the kitchen table watching him intently. On the way to the trash to throw out the packaging the pork shoulder had come in, he reached out to scratch behind the ears of the large Maine Coon lording it over the apartment. Keith knew Red was the boss of the house, and he gladly acquiesced to the cat's whims.
Red rewarded Keith with a purr as he stood and sinuously turned around to indicate that Keith should scratch above his tail, which the young man did. "Good kitty," Keith praised him before he threw out the trash and went to the sink to wash his hands.
He was making pulled pork in his crock-pot, something he often made on Sundays. The recipe made a large amount, but he could use it throughout the week for sandwiches or other recipes. Not like Keith had anyone to share it with or to cook for. He sighed, slicing the onion that he pulled from the sack of fresh produce he had picked up the day before at the farmers market.
Keith would love to cook for someone, especially a special someone, but that didn't seem to be in the cards for him. Since he had moved to this town, he had gone on quite a few dates, mostly guys he met on a dating app, but they were all wrong for him. Even the ones that sounded promising over the initial texting and talking on the phone stage all seemed to want one thing - him in bed. Not that he was opposed to sex, but he wanted it to mean something and he wanted it with someone he connected with. Pidge called him demi sexual and he would just laugh at her. He didn't care about labels or anything like that. He knew what he wanted and he wouldn't settle for less.
"You'll die a virgin, Keith. Guys aren't interested in romance, ok?" she insisted.
The memory of that conversation brought a slight smile to his lips as he dumped the sliced onions into the pot before heading over to his large spice rack. That's one of the many things he loved about Pidge, her blunt and direct way of speaking. Keith hated people who talked in circles and were dishonest – which was probably why he hadn't connected with anyone except the snarky friend who he met when he was a kid. His brother, Shiro, also had a direct way of speaking, though it wasn't as salty as Pidge.
However, they were a four-hour drive away in his hometown. Keith didn't see them as often as he would like. His weekends were filled with lesson plans and grading, painting, cooking, and maybe a pointless date on the Saturday night. Pointless because, again, they went nowhere.
Keith made a face as he carried his chosen spices over to the crock-pot. Last night's date was a disaster. The guy, annoyingly named Brock, didn't even bother to come to his door when he picked Keith up. He sent a text and then beeped his horn with impatience when Keith came out of his building. Brock hadn't even bothered to dress nice, which Keith had. Not fancy, but at least clean clothes and what might be called business casual. They went to a diner, which Keith thought quaint and would have thought romantic if Brock hadn't told him that he hated fancy food and spending that much money on something he was just going to shove into his mouth.
Keith didn't picture himself as a snob, but he believed in first impressions. He even would have considered the diner romantic with the right person, but Brock obviously wasn't going to be that right person. Still, Keith tried. He wasn't great at small talk, but he tried. Brock turned out to be as shallow as Keith feared, and it soon became clear that Brock's main goal was getting into Keith's bed, or getting Keith into his. The guy hinted at it enough, which just turned Keith completely off.
They ended the date early, Brock's attitude becoming angry after it was clear to him that he wasn't going to get anywhere with Keith that night. He barely said goodbye when he dropped Keith off, then sped away. Keith felt a certain amount of relief when he let himself into the quiet lobby of his apartment building. These things were so awkward and he thought, as he had thought many times, that he should just give up.
He turned to the wall of mailboxes when he realized he hadn't grabbed his mail that day. Keith shook his ring of keys to get his mailbox key, opened the box and pulled out the mail inside. He absently closed it, turned the key and went to the other door that led to the first floor hallway and the elevator. He was distracted as he looked at the stack in his left hand and reached for the door with his right. The door opened as he reached toward it and it hit his hand.
"Oh my God I'm so sorry!" a contrite voice gasped, making Keith look up.
And Keith's heart practically stopped. The most beautiful man he'd ever seen was standing in the doorway, propping the door open with one hand while the other rested against the opposite door jam. His face was scrunched into a worried expression, which did nothing to make the perfect tanned skin dusted with freckles unattractive, and his eyes reflected his panic. They were wide, which Keith noticed because he couldn't stop looking into them. Had that shade of blue ever existed? Keith knew he would never be able to reproduce that color in his studio.
"Are you ok?" the man asked him anxiously.
Keith looked down at his hand and shook it. He hadn't been hit that hard. The doors were heavy and not easy to shove, so it had basically just bumped him.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah. It's fine," he managed to say.
"Are you sure? I'm such a klutz. I'm so sorry."
"No, it's fine," Keith assured him. "I, uh, barely noticed it."
"Must be fascinating mail then," the man said, finally grinning and sending Keith's heart into another nosedive.
Keith looked at the mail in his hands. Bills, a few circulars, and a catalog for art supplies. "Uh, not exactly," he said, cursing himself for his inability to merely talk to someone so good-looking.
"I'm in your way," the man said, making no move to shift himself to the side.
"Uh, yeah. Just heading back to my apartment," Keith answered.
"You look all dressed up."
Keith nodded slowly. "Date," he said shortly.
"Awful early to be in from a date."
"Bad date."
"Ahhh, the duck out early thing. Been there, man. It sucks. Sorry it didn't work out."
Keith shrugged, still feeling awkward. Could he say anything a little more fascinating than 'bad date'?
"The night's young," the other man said, and Keith finally looked away from the beautiful face to see that he was dressed as if ready to go clubbing. "You should go back out." The easy smile that accompanied the remark completely unnerved Keith for some reason.
"I'd rather just watch a movie in my place with my cat," Keith said a little bitterly, then felt mortified. How much more pathetic could he sound?
"My friend, Hunk, and I are going to check out this new club over on Fifth."
"Nice. Have a great time," Keith said.
"You sure you don't want to join us?"
Keith blinked a few times in surprise. He didn't even know this guy and here he was inviting Keith out clubbing? Obviously, another guy out for a one-night stand or something like that, so he shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm all in."
The other man frowned, but did step through the door, holding it open for Keith. "Ok." He did sound disappointed, more so than Keith would have thought he would. The guy was going to a club after all and would probably hook up. Guys that beautiful always hook up. Keith was nothing special, so why would this other guy care? "If you change your mind…it's that new club Splash."
Keith nodded, trying not to show how disappointed that fact made him. Splash was a new gay club in their district, so that meant this beautiful creature was either gay or bi, seeing as he was dressed to kill. Keith mumbled something; he wasn't even sure what he said, as he rushed to the elevator.
Bringing his attention back to the present and the process of making his dinner, Keith snapped the top of the cayenne container open and sprinkled a generous amount into the crock-pot. His cheeks warmed a bit thinking of that guy in the lobby. He was so gorgeous and out of Keith's league. Keith talked himself out of thinking about him because it would just cause him anxiety that he didn't need. The other guy seemed like a flirt and probably woke up in some strange bed this morning, or woke up in his own bed with a complete stranger. Keith shuddered at the thought. Not that he cared much what other people did; it was just something he couldn't imagine himself doing. And, he found, he didn't want to imagine that beautiful boy doing it either.
Red meowed loudly to remind Keith that he hadn't been fed his breakfast yet. Keith chuckled as he finished prepping his pork shoulder. He put the lid on the crock-pot and set the time for eight hours. Plenty of time to feed Red, go to the gym, run to the store, then come home to clean and do laundry. Such was his exciting life, he thought with a small frown.
When he returned after one, the smell of the pulled pork was already strong in his apartment and he breathed in the spicy and rich smell. Nothing smelled better than slow cooking pork to him and he felt his mouth water for his own cooking. It still had three hours of cooking though, so Keith threw himself into cleaning and doing laundry, which occupied him for at least an hour. A quick shower followed and he threw on a t-shirt and shorts, pulled his longish back hair into a ponytail and went into his studio area.
His apartment was a typical one-bedroom apartment; the main room was large and contained the kitchen, dining area and living room. Keith chose this particular apartment because of the light. A sliding glass door led to a balcony that let in a great amount of sunlight during the afternoon, which was perfect for painting. His easel was close to the balcony, turned so that his back was to the world as he sat on his stool. The light on the canvas was strong and bright, allowing him to see the colors he painted perfectly.
The easel didn't take up much room, but the only other furniture was an old futon he 'borrowed' from Shiro and his TV on a stand. A tiny Ikea dining table with two chairs was next to the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the rest of the room. Keith settled onto his stool and positioned his palette in his hand, looking at the half-finished painting in front of him. It was of a brook he had seen on a hike last year with Shiro. Keith had tacked the picture on the side of the canvas, but he took some liberties with the colors; he made them more intense and ethereal, though the picture certainly had that quality itself.
He squeezed a few blobs of color onto his palette and picked up a detail brush. He was working on the brook itself, painting it in soft blues and purples, indicating a sort of twilight look to the landscape. The painting was going in a fairy-like direction that he hadn't planned on, but he was letting his inner muse have her way with him and he was pleased with how it was turning out.
Keith was lost in his painting, barely paying attention to anything but the color in front of him, when he was startled out of his art trance by a loud knock on his door. He looked around his canvas at the door as if he could see through it. Knocks on the door were rare. To get into the building you needed a key, so residents usually never had to deal with door-to-door salespersons or anything like that. He contemplated not answering, but the knock sounded again.
Sighing, Keith stood up and put his palette on his stool, making a mental note NOT to sit on it when he returned to his painting. Wiping his hands on his shorts, he approached the door and peered through the peephole. He saw an eye looking back at him, all distorted from the fisheye lens, so he couldn't see who it was. He didn't want to open the door, but he figured that he was strong, knew karate, and wasn't afraid, so he pulled the door open, leaving the chain latch on so that there was just a few inches for him to peer out.
A man was leaning towards his door, looking into the peephole and he jerked back with a guilty smile. Keith was surprised to see the beautiful man from the lobby. "Can-can I help you?" Keith asked faintly.
"Yeah! Sorry to bug you, but I live next door to you. I didn't know it was you," he said in a charming and friendly tone.
Keith shut the door so that he could undo the chain lock and once again pulled the door open, only all the way this time. Not only was this guy standing there, with a big smile on his face, but Keith noticed that he held a plate between his hands. Keith was confused, so he looked back up into the man's eyes. "Was there something you wanted?"
"This is, like, really awkward and probably really forward of me, but you've been driving me crazy for hours!"
Keith's mouth dropped open slightly. "What?"
"That smell!" the guy said, his eyes bright with suppressed laughter. "Oh my god that smell is delicious! I came over to beg for some food!"
Keith blinked a few times, completely at a loss of what to say.
The man continued. "Look, we're neighbors and whatever you're making is coming through the vents or SOMEthing and my mouth has been watering ALL day. I couldn't take it anymore, so I began to hope if I came over and begged hard enough, whoever was in here would take pity on a poor, broke grad student and share a small bit. I miss my Mamá and Abuela's cooking so much. I haven't had a decent meal since I moved here! I can't take one more night of Ramen!"
"You want my food?"
"Just a teeny tiny bit! Pleeeeaaaaase," he drew the last word out in a long whine that Keith wished he didn't find so adorable. "Just a small bit on my plate. See?" He asked, holding up his plate reminding Keith of Oliver Twist. "I even brought my own plate. Then I'll go back to my lonely apartment and never bother you again. I promise."
"Do you even know what I've made?"
"No and I don't care. I literally eat anything. I mean, this IS your fault after all."
"My fault?" Keith exclaimed, thoroughly confused.
"YES!" the guy practically yelled. "I've only been here, like, two weeks and there's always so many delicious smells coming from here and it's been pure torture."
Keith was beginning to see that this guy was a bit of a drama queen, and that was oddly endearing to Keith, who could see the humor in the whole situation. No one had ever accused him of torture before, especially not with his cooking skills. He stepped back slightly, opening the door even wider. Keith was kind-hearted and the guy was cute after all.
"Um, come in. You can join me for dinner if you want. You don't have to take your plate and leave."
The other man looked surprised for a brief moment before his smile returned full force. Keith warned himself not to look at it. It would probably prove to be deadly.
"Seriously, dude? Oh my God you're the best!" His right hand let go of the plate and he held it towards Keith. "The name's Lance, by the way."
Keith shook Lance's hand quickly, dropping it like it was a hot. It was. Keith tried not to think of how smooth the skin of Lance's hand was, or how firm and sure his grip was. "Keith," he said shortly.
"Nice to meet you, Keith," Lance said happily as he walked inside. He took a moment to look around curiously at the apartment, his smile settling into a pleased expression.
"Um, likewise," Keith said awkwardly. He ducked behind the breakfast bar into the kitchen area to check on the crock-pot. It still had half an hour to go, but he lifted the lid to check on the pork shoulder. He figured it was finished and he turned to say that he would have it ready in a minute and was surprised to see Lance already seated comfortably at the kitchen table watching him.
"This is a nice place," Lance mentioned. "My place doesn't get near this much sunlight. I think a tree blocks the sun most of the day. You're lucky."
Keith nodded, and then remembered he had been painting and should probably take care of his oils. "Shit," he hissed under his breath. "Excuse me, I need to put my stuff away."
Lance turned, watching Keith as he moved over to his easel. "Oh, you paint? Can I see?"
Keith looked over his shoulder, feeling shy suddenly. "Um, sure. It's not finished."
Lance jumped up and bounded over to the canvas, circling the easel so he could see the painting. "Holy shit, dude! You did this?"
"Uh, yeah," Keith answered, nervously running his fingers through his hair. He normally had no problem showing his work to others, but Lance made him anxious.
"This is amazing. I mean, I don't really know art or anything, but this is just gorgeous!" Lance leaned closer, his eyes taking in all of the little details. "I take it you're re-creating this?" he asked, pointing at the picture attached to the canvas.
Keith nodded. "Yeah. I saw that stream on a hike with my brother last summer. I can't seem to get it out of my mind, so I figured I would put it in a painting."
"You somehow made this beautiful scene even more beautiful. I love the colors you chose. Gives it a sort of fairy tale look to it. Like a scene out of some Disney movie or something."
Keith had to laugh at that. "Thanks? I think?"
"That's a compliment!" Lance assured him, grinning that cheeky grin. "There's not much better than Disney movies!"
Lance straightened as Keith moved to put his brushes into the can of citrus thinner he used to clean them. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked.
Surprised, Keith shook his head. "No, no. It'll take me a few minutes, but it's nothing difficult." Lance watched Keith self-consciously scrape off his palette and clean it with the paint thinner. "I just need to wash these out," he added, picking up the can and gesturing with it to the kitchen.
"Cool!" Lance started to follow Keith, but stopped, looking at the walls. "Are all these your paintings?"
Keith, who had turned on the water and was washing his brushes with soap answered in a loud voice. "Yeah. Just a few things I did this year."
"Dude, you are really talented," Lance remarked, moving from wall to wall as if he were in a gallery. Keith was just glad that he had cleaned the apartment that day and that everything was neat and in order. He blushed slightly from the praise, however.
"Thanks," he said, turning off the water and patting his brushes dry with paper towels. "I just need to put these on the balcony," he said carrying his painting tools across the room.
Lance made a vague noise. He looked fascinated by Keith's paintings and the rest of Keith's things placed around the apartment. During the past year, Keith had invited two dates to his apartment, once where he made dinner, and once invited someone up for a drink. Neither of them had taken any notice of his paintings or his things. The one didn't even appreciate his dinner. The guy had shoved his food quickly into his mouth and then put his moves on. The guy invited up for drinks didn't even wait for Keith to pour the wine. Keith kicked out both men rather quickly. So Keith was pleased that Lance actually seemed interested in his work.
Keith returned to the kitchen to wash his hands. He then took out the pork roast and put it on a cutting board in order to shred it.
"So what did you make for dinner?"
Keith nearly jumped at how close Lance had moved to him. He hadn't even heard the other man approach him. "Uh, pulled pork."
"No wonder I was drooling. I love pulled pork!" Lance grinned at him, which Keith saw out of the corner of his eye. "That's a lot you made, though. Expecting more than me for dinner?"
"I wasn't expecting you," Keith said, though his tone indicated he was joking and it did get a small chuckle from Lance. "But no. I usually make a lot when I do. I can put it in other recipes or eat it as leftovers all week."
"Makes sense," Lance said, and then sighed. "I really wish I knew how to cook like that. I help my Mamá and my Abuela, but I can't make anything turn out tasting good. I usually burn it or undercook it. Though I have mastered Kraft Mac N Cheese."
"That's a start. It's actually the first thing I remember cooking."
"Really?" Lance asked, seeming interested.
Keith nodded, his hands working with a pair of forks to separate the pork into chunks and strands before putting it into a large bowl. "My brother was furious that I used the stove when he wasn't home, but I still did it. I'd seen him do it often enough."
"How old were you?"
"Thirteen."
Lance chuckled. "Is that your brother?" he asked.
Keith looked up and saw Lance looking at the few pictures stuck up on his fridge. He was pointing to one of Keith and Shiro from their hike last year. "Yep. Shiro."
"Who are these?"
Keith thought he should be offended or put off by Lance's curiosity, but he wasn't. He glanced over again to see which picture he was pointing to. "Pidge and her brother Matt. Pidge is my best friend and Matt is Shiro's. They were our neighbors. Well, they lived on our block."
"Cool. My best friend is Hunk. We met in high school, then went to college together. He's the best."
Keith smiled as he put the last of the pulled pork into the bowl. "Can you put this on the table?" he asked, holding the bowl out to Lance.
"Sure!" Lance said, grinning. Keith washed his hands again, then retrieved the coleslaw and potato salad he had made the previous day before his date from the fridge. "Where are your plates and silverware?" Lance asked.
Keith nodded to the cupboard. "Up there, and the silverware is below it in the drawer."
Lance moved over to the kitchen and took out a plate for Keith and some silverware for them both. Keith, taking the foil covering off the bowls, watched him. For being a complete stranger, Lance seemed to make himself right at home.
"What can I get you to drink?" Keith asked.
"Uh, I don't know. What do you got?"
Keith tried to remember the interior of the fridge. "Some Coke? I think I have lemonade. Beer or wine if you're more adventurous."
Lance laughed. "Good wine?" he asked, then when Keith nodded, said, "Why not wine?"
Lance came over to take the bowls from Keith to put on the table and Keith opened the cupboard to get out two wine glasses. This was starting to feel like a date, which made Keith uncomfortable. His dates never went well, and he didn't even know this guy. At least he usually got to know someone over text or phone calls before agreeing to go out. There was an unopened bottle of wine in his fridge already chilled. He took it out and carried it and the glasses to the table. "It's from a local winery. Bay Ridge. I think it's pretty good."
"Oh, I've been there for tastings. I dragged Hunk once." Lance seated himself and watched Keith open the bottle. "He's a good sport, you know. Will do anything if I beg hard enough."
Keith chuckled, pouring out the two glasses. "Why do I have the feeling you beg him for a lot of things?"
Lance pretended to look offended. "I will neither confirm nor deny that," he said airily, waving one hand in front of himself.
Keith just hummed as he slid one glass toward Lance, then sat down opposite the other man. He couldn't quite bring himself to look at Lance – the guy was just too good looking and Keith didn't want to spend the entire dinner gawking or blushing. "The pork can be eaten plain, or I have buns to make sandwiches, if you want," he said faintly. Why was he suddenly shy?
"Sandwich sounds good. Man, I can't thank you enough. This all looks delicious."
"Well, you did beg…"
"And I'm good at it! See why it works on Hunk?" Lance asked, laughing.
Keith smiled, not quite meeting Lance's eyes. They fixed their plates and Keith picked up his fork to start eating when he saw Lance take up his glass and lift it. "To new friends," Lance said, a soft smile gracing his lips.
Keith tried not to fixate on those lips and wondered how Lance could label him a friend so quickly. They met less than an hour ago and didn't even know each other's last names. Still, Lance already knew more about Keith than most of the guys Keith had dated over the last year. He didn't even realize his hand picking up his own glass and lifting it as well. The table was small, so neither of them had to reach far to tap glasses. Lance's eyes sparkled at Keith with amusement over the rim of his glass as he drank. "Oh, you weren't kidding. This wine is good."
They began eating, silent at first, but as anxious as Keith felt, it didn't quite feel awkward. Just strange. Lance looked to be enjoying the meal immensely, and Keith, who didn't have anyone to cook for anymore, felt pleased that something he did gave this stranger such a happy expression. Lance, however, was apparently one of those people who couldn't remain silent for very long.
"So, I didn't see you at the club last night. At Splash? I'm taking it you did stay in and watch a movie with your cat?"
Keith nodded, "Yeah. I mean, yeah I stayed in."
"It's a gay club," Lance mentioned, his eyes suddenly focused intensely on Keith. "Is that why you didn't go?"
Keith thought it an odd question, but he shook his head. "Um, no. Just. I guess clubs aren't my thing? I'm not a great dancer and I get tired of being hit on."
"You don't like getting hit on? You mean by guys?"
"No," Keith was frustrated, not explaining this the right way. "I'm…I'm into guys. Just I guess I don't like the club scene. Too many people there for one thing? That's not me."
Lance's features softened and he smiled. "Yeah I can understand that."
"Did you and Hunk have a good time?"
Lance shrugged, "Yes and no. I mean, the club itself was cool, but way too crowded. We could barely move. That's the problem with new places. But you're right; it was full of guys looking for a quick hook up."
Keith thought about Lance's tone as he said that. It sounded almost disgusted or disappointed at least. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "So did you?"
"Did I what?"
Now Keith blushed. Why would he ask this of a complete stranger? "Hook up," he said in a low, embarrassed tone.
That made Lance laugh, which made Keith blush even more. "No, man. I don't go to clubs to hook up. I go to dance. I love dancing. I know I'm not gonna find what I'm looking for in random hookups at clubs or bars." He actually lifted a hand, placing his fingers against his chest in a classic 'clutching-the-pearls-in-horror' pose. "I'm NOT that kind of boy!"
Keith laughed in spite of his burning cheeks. What did he care if Lance hooked up with random strangers or not? Only...he found he kind of did. "I didn't mean to pry."
"It's ok," Lance said easily. "So anyway, we couldn't really dance, and we were both getting hit on pretty badly, so we sort of stood at the side drinking a lot and watching everyone. That part was pretty funny. I like people watching, but they played such awesome music and I just wanted to dance."
Red decided at that moment to make his appearance. The large cat entered the room in his majestic way. He must have been camped out on Keith's bed for the afternoon, taking a nap as only a regal cat can. Red jumped up onto one of the chairs at the breakfast bar that gave him a good view of the table, and especially of Lance, whom he proceeded to stare at with a baleful glare.
"Beautiful cat," Lance said softly, making kissing noises at Red. "No wonder you preferred staying in with him rather than go out to a stinky, crowded club. It is a he, right?" Lance asked, looking at Keith.
"Yeah. This is Red."
"Hey Red," Lance greeted the cat, who continued to stare at Lance. "I think he likes me."
Keith laughed. "He doesn't really like anyone but me. He never even liked Shiro when I lived at home. And everyone likes Shiro."
"Shiro sounds like Hunk. At least, everyone likes Hunk. I can't wait for you to meet him. You'll love him. He is, like, the perfect human being. A god among men."
"Meet him?"
"Yeah! I can't wait to tell Hunk that you can give him a run for his money."
"What?" Keith asked.
"Hunk's like the best cook I know. Until now, anyways. Hunk worked his way through college working as a cook. When we were in undergrad here, he worked for a little diner. It was the cutest place you ever wanted to see. You ever been there? University Diner?"
Keith actually laughed. "My awful date took me there yesterday."
Lance's eyes widened. "You didn't like it?"
"No no, the place was nice. I would have even thought it romantic with the right person, but this guy turned out to be a douche," Keith said with a shrug. "He kind of spoiled it for me."
"You need to go with me and Hunk," Lance said. "Then you'll love it. He still helps out sometimes when he has time. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a lot of that. His grad program is pretty intense. He's into Aerospace Engineering because he's a genius!" Lance ate a few bites of his sandwich before asking, "So what made this guy a douche?"
Keith shrugged and felt his cheeks warm up again, "It was pretty obvious he was only doing the date to get more from me afterwards."
"Ahh, one of those. Those kind of guys drive me crazy."
Keith nodded, "He seemed ok when we were texting. Sex never even came up. But he kept pushing to come home with me and it totally turned me off. That and he didn't even dress nice and said straight out he wasn't taking me to any fancy place and spending a lot of money." Then Keith looked up, his eyes wide, "Not that I require that. I'm not like that. A diner would be great for a first date, I think. A guy doesn't have to spend money on me at all. It's just, I don't know, rude to TELL me that, you know?"
"No man, you're right. Totally shallow move. Who honestly does that?"
"I'm a simple guy, so it wouldn't take much to impress me. Just, I don't know, make some effort? To expect me to go to bed with you just because you bought me dinner? No thanks." Lance was listening intently to him, with a slight smile. Keith was surprised with himself, because he never opened up like this to anyone except Shiro and Pidge. There was just something about Lance, though. It was easy to talk to him. "You said you're not looking for a quick hookup, yeah?" he asked Lance, who nodded silently. "I'm not either. Maybe I'm old-fashioned? I don't know. I just don't want to do that with random strangers. That's not me. So I guess staying at home, watching movies with my cat, is the better option? Maybe it's stupid of me to expect that."
"I don't think it is," Lance said, and the tone of his voice sent Keith's heart into his throat. "So you have high standards. That's not a bad thing, Keith."
"I don't even think it's high standards though," Keith argued. "I guess I just want someone who respects me? Maybe TWO dates before expecting anything?" he joked, which got a short laugh from Lance. "I'd be perfectly happy with simple dates, make me dinner, or go on a hike," he stopped abruptly, blushing again. "I'm talking too much."
"No you're not. I like listening to you," Lance said, reaching for a bun to make another sandwich. "So what do you do? Work? School?"
"Both?" Keith answered. "I mean, I teach at Altea Community."
"Let me guess. Art?"
Keith nodded.
"Do you like it?"
"I do. It's fun and pretty laid back. I've only been there two years, but I really enjoy it. What do you do?"
"Grad student at Altea U. Well, I'm starting this summer to work on my PhD."
"PhD?" Keith asked, impressed. "You don't seem old enough to be that far ahead in school."
"Is that a way to ask how old I am?" Lance teased, but answered before Keith got too flustered. "I'm twenty-three and got my Master's pretty quick. I went to Altea for my undergrad, then to UC San Diego for my Masters. Now I'm back for the PhD because I missed home and Altea has a good grad program in my field."
"What are you studying?"
"Marine Biology. Sharks are my specialty. My Masters' thesis was on Mako sharks, so I'm hoping to continue my studies for my dissertation."
"Wow, that's awesome!"
"Mako's are the coolest sharks. There's not a lot known about them, because they're pretty elusive and hard to observe. I spent last summer on a boat running tests and experiments with them. It was pretty much the best time of my life!"
Keith stared at Lance in awe. The way Lance talked about his passion – his eyes lighted up and his face became even more animated than before – was beautiful to see. Thinking he should say something, he admitted, "I don't know much about sharks."
"There's a good shark week show about Mako's I have saved. I'll have to show it to you sometime! And you HAVE to come over and see some of the video I captured last summer. It's all saved on my computer and I used it on my thesis and during my defense."
"I'd like that," Keith said faintly. He was still a little shaken at how friendly and open Lance was.
"Where'd you go to school?" Lance asked.
"Um, back home. Garrison University. I got a BFA there. I've thought about maybe going for a Master's, but I wanted to start teaching, so…" he trailed off with a shrug. "ACC was hiring, so I jumped on it, even though I knew I'd miss my brother and friends."
"That's a pretty brave thing to do, just picking up and moving to a strange place. At least I had Hunk with me when I went to San Diego."
"I guess. It took a lot to push myself to do it. I don't…I don't make friends easy, so it was pretty scary in a way."
"But you do get dates easy," Lance teased.
Keith blushed again. He hadn't blushed this much since he was a teenager. "I guess? I mean, I use one of those dating apps and meet guys that way. It never works out though, so I don't really count it as dating."
"How far away is home?"
"About a four hour drive. I don't get to get home often and I miss Shiro and Pidge a lot."
"What about your parents?"
Keith looked down at his almost empty plate with a frown. "Um, it's just me and Shiro."
"Aw man, Keith, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so nosy," Lance said, his tone strained.
Keith looked back up at him, touched at how upset Lance looked. "No, it's ok. Our mom left a long time ago. Our dad died from cancer when I was twelve. Shiro was already eighteen at the time, so I was able to live with him. It wasn't easy – he had to work while going to school. But we managed."
"I didn't mean to bring that up. I'm so sorry."
Keith's lips lifted into a crooked smile. "No, it's ok, really. I don't mind talking about my dad. He was a good man and funny. I have good memories of him, you know? I miss him, but it's not painful to talk about him anymore."
Lance smiled a relieved sort of smile. "I can understand that. What's your happiest memory of him?"
Keith sat back and thought. It was an interesting question. "I remember him taking Shiro and me fishing once. Like a weekend trip in the woods. It was awful. Everything that could go wrong went wrong." He smiled at the memory. "It rained, we lost our gear, our tent leaked – like everything you could imagine. It was freezing and miserable, but we still had a good time. Dad told us stories of his parents and his growing up. We talked and talked and played word games and stuff like that. It was awful, but Dad still made it fun, you know?"
Lance's smile brightened, "That sounds amazing. He sounds like a good Dad."
"He was," Keith said, nodding, then took the last bite of potato salad off his plate. He saw that Lance was apparently finished as well. "What about your family?"
"They live in Miami, so I never get to see them. My Mamá and Papi migrated from Cuba and settled in Miami. They eventually got my Mamá's parents out as well, so we all live together – Mamá, Papi, my Abuelos and my siblings, three of them. It's a little crowded and loud and we're all in each other's space all the time, but I miss it."
"I can't imagine that many people in one house."
"It can get crazy," Lance admitted, "but you do get used to it. I mean, I guess that's all I've ever known, so…" he shrugged. "There's almost no privacy. And I didn't really have privacy at college either, since Hunk and I roomed together. At both colleges. Now I'm on my own and it's so weird. I thought I'd like the quiet, but it just makes me feel lonelier."
"I thought you said Hunk was here with you? Why aren't you rooming together still?"
"Hunk's moved in with his girlfriend," Lance said, grinning. "She's awesome. So nice and Hunk is SO enraptured with her. They are like those annoyingly perfect couples that kind of make you want to puke, but you can't because they're both so awesome."
Keith laughed. "Yeah, I know the type. Shiro's like that with his girlfriend. It's annoying, but you can't NOT like them."
"Exactly!" Lance said, leaning his elbows on the table. "I miss living with Hunk, you know, but I'm so happy for him and Shay. It took FOREVER for Hunk to ask her out. She was giving him so many clues that she liked him, but he can be shy. I had to help move things along."
"Why does that not surprise me?"
Lance winked at him, "It shouldn't. See, you're getting to understand me. Aren't you glad I came begging?"
"Actually, I am pretty glad you did," Keith admitted. He tried not to make more of Lance's pleased smirk than he should. Flustered, he stood up and picked up his and Lance's plates.
"Hey, at least let me clean up," Lance offered. "I mean, you did all the work and you did feed this poor, lost waif, it's the least I could do."
Keith looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Uh sure, if you want. You don't have to."
Lance jumped up. "It's not like there's a lot."
Keith and Lance carried the dishes and bowls to the kitchen. Lance dumped some dish soap in the sink and started filling it with water. Keith retrieved a fresh sponge for him, then pulled out some plastic bowls for the leftovers. He felt strange, standing there in his kitchen doing such domestic things with a good-looking man. Strange, but good and Keith yearned for this to be real, not just a weird encounter that started with the guy begging for food. He wanted this sort of domestic bliss, slow and easy Sundays spent doing nothing other than talking, cooking and eating together. Just like this. He thought, though, that Lance might be out of his league, but he couldn't help thinking that Lance wasn't like any guy he had ever gone out with. Lance listened to him and didn't make the conversation all about himself. He seemed interested in what Keith said, and Keith didn't detect any falseness in it.
Keith could also tell his bedroom wasn't Lance's end game. He truly just wanted the food. Maybe to meet Keith and get to know him and maybe make a new friend, but the main motivator was the food. Keith didn't know what he thought about that. On one hand, it was nice to get to know someone without that pressure, but that just told Keith that Lance wasn't and wouldn't be interested in him.
Keith was about to say something when he felt an insistent bump against his legs and heard the unmistakable demand from Red for dinner. "Are you hungry too, buddy?" he asked, directing the question toward the cat.
"MRROW!"
"I'd take that as a yes," Lance said, grinning down at Red, his hands still immersed in the sink.
"Don't let him fool you. He's well fed, but acts like he doesn't eat for weeks. He deserves an Oscar for his portrayal of a starving and abused cat."
Lance laughed. "Well he certainly looks well fed. He's huge!" Lance rinsed off the last dish and put it on the rack, then pulled the plug in the sink and washed his hands. "Want me to feed him? Maybe he'll like me then."
Keith wondered briefly why Lance wanted Red to like him, but then he shrugged, "Sure, if you want." He pulled out a can of Red's favorite food and handed it over to Lance.
Lance grinned at Keith again, then pulled the lid off and knelt where Red's dishes were. "This one, right?" he asked, pointing to the empty one. Keith nodded even as Red came up to rub against Lance's thigh. He snatched that moment to scratch behind Red's ears with his free hand. To Keith's surprise, Red batted his head against Lance's hand and purred.
"I think he likes you," Keith said, ignoring how happy this made him.
"Cats always like me," Lance bragged, dumping the food into the dish. Red immediately ignored Lance now as he focused on his food. Lance sat back on his heels for a moment watching him. "He is a beautiful cat. So fluffy."
Keith took the empty can from Lance to throw it away, and the other man got up to his feet. "It's nice until you're vacuuming up five tons of cat hair every week," Keith said.
Lance laughed, "Yeah I could see that." They stood looking at each other for a moment. Keith felt that he should feel a little awkward, but he didn't. This surprising afternoon left him confused, but feeling light and happy. Never had he made a friend so easily. Never had someone slipped into his life in a way that seemed as if he'd always been there. This was something Keith always dreamed about, but he didn't dare dream it would be anything more than now having a friendly next-door neighbor.
"Sorry I don't have any dessert," Keith said suddenly.
"That's ok, man. I mean, you did give me dinner. I'd be an asshole if I expected dessert too," Lance said with a small laugh, his eyes sparkling in the kitchen light as he looked at Keith. His eyes made Keith nervous. "Actually," Lance said, and Keith detected a little bit of doubt in his expression, "What do you say I treat you to some ice cream? To thank you for dinner?"
Keith's eyes widened slightly, "Uh, sure. You don't have to, though."
"I want to," Lance said. "I've had a good time today and to be honest, I don't really want it to end."
"Oh, then sure," Keith said blankly, then looked down at himself. "I should probably change, though."
Lance nodded, "Well, I mean, you do look pretty cute, but yeah."
Keith blushed and turned to go to his room, trying to ignore the soft chuckle he heard from Lance. Was the guy hitting on him now? No, that couldn't be. Though he did say he didn't want the day to end. And cute? Keith couldn't stop his heart from racing as he dug through his closet, thanking the gods that Sunday was his laundry day.
He threw on some casual clothes. Nicer shorts than the grungy ones he'd had on, and a fresh Avengers t-shirt. He left his room and ducked quickly into the bathroom to brush his teeth and check that he looked all right. "Stop hoping," he muttered to his reflection as he took out the ponytail and dragged his fingers through his hair.
Keith returned to the kitchen to find Lance petting Red, who was on the breakfast bar. "He jumped up here," Lance said. "Is it ok?"
"Oh yeah. Red pretty much owns the place. He just lets me live here." Keith was in awe that the normally abrasive cat was letting Lance anywhere near him.
Lance laughed, his fingers scratching above Red's tail, a spot the cat never let anyone but Keith scratch. "Are you ready?"
Keith nodded, tucking his wallet in his back pocket and grabbing his keys and sunglasses. "Where did you want to go?"
"There's that ice cream shop near the bookstore. It's only a few blocks away," Lance suggested.
"Cool, they're really good."
"Let me run into my place and grab my stuff," Lance said as Keith locked his door. "I won't be more than a minute."
Keith nodded and waited in the hallway while Lance dashed into his apartment. He returned a few minutes later and Keith could tell he'd also brushed his teeth. 'Don't read too much into this,' he told himself sternly.
The day was a beautiful early May day, the sun just starting to set, though it was still nice enough that both men put on their sunglasses. Keith felt a little more secure with them on, hoping that Lance wouldn't see any hopeful expression in his eyes.
"So, Keith. You have a last name?"
"Uh, Kogane."
"Mine's McClain. I know, kinda weird for a Cubano to have a Scottish last name, huh?" Lance asked, smiling. "Some ancient ancestor came from Scotland, or so the story goes. That's where I get my brown hair. It's lighter than my Mamá's. My Papi has red hair."
"I didn't know the Scottish went to Cuba," Keith remarked.
"I guess some did. Merchants and the like," Lance said. "I think that's what my many times great-grandfather was, according to the family legends."
The ice cream shop was crowded, so the two stood at the end of the long line and talked of inconsequential things as they waited. Inconsequential, but sweet things that gave Keith plenty of insight into Lance's character. Keith couldn't stop himself from thinking today would be a perfect date if that were the case. He was finding that he liked Lance. A lot. The other young man was gorgeous, of course, but it was much more than that. He was so easy to talk to and to be with. Keith felt like Lance had always been in his life even though he'd only known him for literally a few hours. He was a man who cared deeply about the people he loved – the way he talked about his family and about Hunk, Keith just knew that Lance was the type that would be there for whatever anyone needed. He'd be the one to take you to the hospital if you needed it, or the one to come pick you up at the bar at two in the morning if you called him drunk. In short, he seemed perfect.
Keith wasn't surprised that Lance got a double scoop of cookie dough. He, himself, ordered a single of butter pecan, though Lance told the bored looking teenage girl behind the counter to make it a double. He thanked Lance as they walked out of the little shop. They strolled down toward the park, a small green oasis in the center of the city. The park was full of people relaxing, playing Frisbee, and walking their dogs. They had to settle for a spot on a stone wall, as all the benches were taken, but Keith didn't mind. As long as he could people-watch he was happy. To know he was sitting there quietly watching the crowd with Lance was an especially nice bonus.
The light faded quickly once the sun started sinking below the buildings. Keith glanced at his phone and saw it was close to eight. "I probably should get back," he said reluctantly. The ice cream cones were long gone, but that didn't encourage either of them to leave. They had talked more about their families and friends and about Keith's teaching and art and Lance's schoolwork and research.
Lance sighed. "Yeah, we probably should," he said, sliding off the wall where Keith joined him a second later. They walked back to their apartment building, neither of them speaking. Keith felt a certain amount of disappointment and sadness. As Lance expressed earlier, Keith also didn't want this day to end, but he had no idea why he felt so emotionally invested. It wasn't as if they were dating, or even really knew each other.
When they walked down the hall from the elevator, Keith's apartment was the first. They stopped and Keith opened the door, before turning to Lance. "Thanks for the ice cream."
Lance smiled, a warm and fond smile. "Thank you for dinner. Sorry I kind of invited myself."
"I'm glad you did," Keith said quietly.
Lance seemed to study him for a few moments, his head tilted slightly to the side, and it made Keith incredibly nervous. "You said it wouldn't take much to impress you on a date, right?"
Keith's brow furrowed a little in confusion, "Yeah."
"Well," he said, his right hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck, "did I impress you?"
Keith's eyes widened and he blinked a few times. "What?"
"Did I impress you? It's a fairly simple question."
"Was this…was this a…date?" Keith asked confusedly.
"Can I be honest?" Lance asked, then continued when Keith nodded, his eyes still wide. "I honestly didn't know you lived next door. I noticed you when I moved in. I saw you in the parking lot," he said, waving a hand vaguely in that direction. "And a few times in the building, coming and going, and I thought you were really cute. I wanted to introduce myself so bad, but I didn't have the guts to do it."
Keith felt his mouth go dry. Was this really happening?
"I was really mortified last night that our first interaction came from me almost breaking your fingers." He waved off Keith's slight protest and went on, "I felt so bad and really wanted you to come to the club, but I figured I blew my chance. Imagine how surprised I was when you opened the door this afternoon." Lance then laughed, "I have no problem barging into strangers' places begging them for food, but I just couldn't manage to introduce myself to you and ask you out."
"You wanted to ask me out?"
"Well yeah. As I said, I thought you were cute. And you have really kind eyes," Lance explained. For the first time this whole day, Lance looked unsure of himself. "I just wanted to get to know you and see if you were as kind as you looked. Then there you were, opening the door, and I almost fainted."
"Lance…"
But Lance didn't let him say anything. "So there was my chance to get to know you, and I know this is really forward of me, but I like you. You're basically awesome, and it started feeling like a date, as crazy as that sounds. So that's why I'm asking. Did I impress you?"
Keith stared at him. Lance looked back at him with those pleading, puppy dog eyes that Keith knew would be the death of him. These were eyes that you just couldn't say no to…ever. The overly confident and flirty Lance was gone, and standing in front of him now was an unsure and awkward young man who just wanted to impress him. Impress Keith! Keith was blown away.
The way Lance's face lit up when Keith finally smiled melted Keith's heart. "Yes. You impressed me today," Keith said in a soft voice.
Lance reached forward and took Keith's hand and it looked like his confidence returned full force. "Well I am pretty impressive," he teased, getting Keith to roll his eyes. He squeezed Lance's hand and shook his head.
"Don't make me take it back."
"Can we do this again? I told you I can make a mean Mac N Cheese," Lance said. "Want to come over sometime this week and watch shark documentaries and have a fine dining experience at Chez McClain?"
Keith laughed. "That actually sounds pretty perfect to me. I'm out of classes pretty early tomorrow."
"It's a date!" Lance said, stepping a bit closer. "Um, I don't want to push things too fast, but I've really been dying to kiss you all day. And it is a good way to end a perfect first date."
Keith had to agree, and he had barely started nodding his head before Lance's free hand came up to cup his cheek. Keith held his breath as Lance lightly pressed soft lips against his. It was a brief and chaste kiss and over before Keith was ready for it. When Lance pulled back, Keith made a move to chase after another one.
"Tomorrow," Lance whispered the promise before he let go of Keith. He turned to go to his own apartment.
"Tomorrow," Keith breathed out, watching as Lance let himself into his own apartment, giving Keith one last cheeky grin before disappearing.
He gently closed his own door, leaning against the inside. Red jumped down from the futon and trotted across the room to Keith, weaving between his legs. Keith's heart was beating fast and he pressed his fingers against his lips where he still felt Lance's kiss. Did he finally find someone who honestly liked him? Wanted to spend time with him instead of just wanting sex? He thought so. He detected no sense of falsity from Lance at all.
He leant down and picked up Red, cuddling the cat against his chest, loving the deep purr that sounded in his ears. "I think I've finally found 'The One', Red," he whispered to the cat.
"Mrrrow!" Red voiced his approval.