The Book

"What are you reading now?"

"Catcher in the Rye," Keith responded, not bothering to look up from his book.

"Ugh, why?" Lance asked, flopping onto the couch next to Keith.

"I've told you before. It's my favorite book…"

"It's literally the most boring book ever," Lance stated, reaching behind him for the comfy throw which rested on the back of the couch when not in use. It was fleece and covered with sharks.

"It's literally the best book ever," Keith deadpanned, settling the blanket over his knees as Lance shook it out and fluffed it over them.

"I had to read it in high school," Lance said, plucking the bowl of popcorn off the coffee table. "I ended up getting those…what were they? Sparky things?"

"Sparks notes?"

"Yeah, those."

"So you didn't read it?"

"I read, like, a page."

"I have no idea how you even passed school," Keith complained.

"The Sparky things worked!"

"Sparks Notes," Keith reminded him. "And they are supposed to help you understand the book as you read it. Not stand in for the entire thing." He carefully placed a bookmark into the dog-eared, much-loved, much-beat-up book and set it aside. Lance was settling in for movie night, obviously, and Keith knew trying to delay it with the excuse that he wanted to read would get him nowhere.

And it's not as if he didn't know the book by heart anyway.

"You know I don't like to read," Lance said, flicking through the apps on the TV. "Disney or Netflix or Hulu?" he asked. "What're you in the mood for?"

Keith reached his hand under the blanket to place it on Lance's thigh, his fingers tickling a little as they slowly moved up. "Not a movie."

Lance sent him a 'look' and shrugged. "Oh, so you want to read more?"

Keith rolled his eyes, huffing a small, fond laugh. "I'm up for whatever you want, tonight, sweetheart."

"Too bad they don't have Catcher in the Rye on Netflix," Lance said, choosing the Disney Plus app. "Maybe I'd be interested then."

"A movie would never be able to capture the mind of Holden," Keith objected, removing his hand from under the blanket (and Lance's thigh) to nab some popcorn. "Besides, Salinger didn't want it made into a movie and wouldn't sell the rights. His estate carries on his wish."

"Bo-ring," Lance intoned. He selected Coco, as Keith suspected he would. Lance had been singing the songs most of the day as they did their Saturday chores.

Despite his seeming reluctance, Keith enjoyed movie nights, cuddled under their shark blanket together, Keith's head on Lance's shoulder, brief touches under the blanket – enough to spark some interest they could later kindle into something more in the bedroom, sharing popcorn and buttery kisses. It was the most blissful part of Keith's week, much preferred from the first days of their dating. Not that Keith didn't enjoy spending time with Lance in any aspect but this settled, domestic life was much more to his liking.

It was close to ten when the movie ended. Lance got up to put the empty bowl in the kitchen and Keith stood up to fold the shark blanket and drape it over the couch. He could hear Lance busy with dishes, so he sat back down, grabbed his book, and tried to get a few more pages in before Lance came back to drag him to the bedroom.

"I swear you like that book more than you like this," Lance said, pout evident in his tone. Keith glanced up to see that, yes, Lance wore his best pout as he pointed at his own body.

"It's a really good book," Keith agreed, more to rile Lance up than anything. A Lance riled up usually meant a little more fun for Keith in the bedroom.

Lance stomped his foot, huffing loudly. "I see how it is. Well, then, I'll take this," once again pointing to his body, "alone into the bedroom." With that, he stalked toward their room.

Keith gave him a minute, or two. Enough to read to the end of the page. The longer he waited, the more riled up Lance would get – the more aggressive he'd be to 'show' Keith. He chuckled, poking the bookmark back into the pages. His heart beat with anticipation as he jumped up to go and soothe his boyfriend.

"So, seriously, what is it about this book?" Lance asked Monday morning, picking said book up and flipping the pages with his thumb.

Keith shrugged, which only served to bump his head on the underside of the table he was currently under to retrieve one of his shoes. "Ouch. It's just…I guess I get Holden. He seems a lot like me."

"Really? Who's Holden? Is he the catcher guy? Like a baseball player or something?"

"Oh my God, are you serious?" Keith asked, dragging his shoe out from under the table.

"Yes!"

"Holden's the main character. And he's not a baseball catcher."

"And what the hell is rye? Like rye bread? Is someone throwing bread at him?"

"Apparently the Sparks Notes didn't take," Keith said wryly. He'd sat on one of the chairs to tie his shoe.

"I'm playing the part of interested boyfriend, Keith," Lance said, waving the book in front of him. "I want to know about this bread catcher guy."

Keith dropped his foot back to the floor and sighed. "It would take me longer to explain the book than it would for you to read it."

"Then, I'll read it!"

Keith stared up at him, taking in Lance's anxious, honest expression. "Why would you do that?"

"It's an important thing to you," Lance explained. "And you're important to me. Besides, I want to read about the bread catcher who is so much like my boyfriend!"

"Once again, not a bread catcher. That's not even a thing."

"Then why's he catching rye bread?"

"Catcher in the Rye is a song he mentions."

"Oh!"

"I'm sure the Sparks Notes mentioned it."

"Keith," Lance whined in the way that made Keith do anything Lance wanted, "that was a million years ago in high school. I can't remember that long ago!"

"I'm pretty sure you don't understand the concept of time," Keith said, standing up and grabbing his backpack. "I'm off for work," he said, giving Lance a kiss on the cheek – only Lance stopped him and made him give Lance a proper kiss.

"Okay, baby. Love you!"

"Love you!"

"Here."

Lance glanced down at the book Keith held between them. It was The Catcher in the Rye book. "What's this?"

"You said you wanted to read it," Keith said.

Lance looked trapped. Keith knew Lance didn't actually want to read it, but Keith pretended to take his insistence at face value. So, sacrificing his precious book, he'd decided to make Lance take up the offer. Besides, he had plans with it.

With a little sigh, Lance took the book in hand. "Seriously?"

"Yep! This is my precious," Keith said, placing his hand on the top of the book in Lance's hands and imitating Gollum's voice. "That means you read it only in my presence and you do not eat or drink anything while holding it."

"Keith…"

"I'm serious. I figure you can make it through one chapter a night. We'll sit on the couch together after dinner and you can read. There's only twenty-six chapters, so we should be done in a few weeks."

"That's gonna take forever," Lance whined.

"It won't take long to read each chapter," Keith argued. "And I'll be here to answer any questions. You might even get a reward for each chapter."

Lance's face lit up with that. He'd do a lot for little rewards. He still tried to act as if this was a heavy burden, however, with a dramatic sigh. "Fine…"

"Alright," Keith said, pointing to the couch. "Let's get started."

It didn't take long and, soon enough, Lance had turned to the last page of the chapter, where the bright pink of a sticky note shone. "What…?" he whispered, pulling the paper out and reading, in Keith's blocky handwriting, "Can't beLieve the coLor of your eyes is reaL. They are the most beautifuL shade of bLue – I've never seen that shade anywhere in nature. It's aLmost unnaturaL."

He glanced at Keith, who was curled up next to him with another one of his books. "Hmm?" Keith hummed, not looking up.

"This…" Lance said, waving the sticky note under Keith's nose.

"Oh, that." Keith smiled at him. "Your reward."

"A compliment?" Lance asked, doubtful. He thumbed through the pages to the end of the next chapter. "But it's the only one."

"Because I knew you'd look ahead. I'll put a new one in every night. Incentive to finish the chapter."

Lance turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. "Is that the real reason you're sitting here while I read?"

"Yep," Keith admitted. "I know you too well."

Lance huffed.

"What did you think?"

"Oh. Not too bad, I guess. A lot more serious than I remember."

"Interesting, at least?"

"I guess so. Still not my cup of tea, but I'll do this for you."

"Be still, my heart," Keith intoned.

The next few weeks rolled on. Lance didn't read every night, so it dragged on longer than originally intended. There were social obligations – Hunk's birthday, for one – that required their presence. While they had fun, of course, it meant no reading that night. Or the night Keith's boss made him stay late and all he wanted to do when he got home was shovel down the dinner Lance made and curl up in bed with his sympathetic boyfriend pampering him with kisses and a little massage to get him to relax.

On most days, however, Keith would write out his compliment on the pink sticky note and press it into his beloved book at the end of that night's chapter. Then they'd curl together on the couch so Lance could eagerly read to get to his compliment. Surprisingly, Lance got into the book. It was an unexpected pleasure to argue over interpretation with Lance. Keith got a fresh perspective, because his boyfriend was rather intelligent and insightful in his own right, and looked at the book a completely different way from Keith.

Keith had never been unsatisfied in their relationship. He loved Lance for everything Lance was, but this new aspect – discussing literature with him – was a very welcome change. Keith was a book nerd; had minored in Lit in college, so he was happy to have someone to talk to about it. He'd never thought Lance could be the one – Lance didn't like to read – but this brought a whole new dynamic to them and Keith felt supremely happy.

Lance seemed to enjoy it, too. Part of their dynamic was argumentative. Not ever in a detrimental way, but in a give and take banter way they both loved. Lance seemed to thrive in this new way of arguing, apparently happy to show off to Keith his brains and his understanding of something Keith was into. Of course, the compliments Keith stuck into the book helped. Keith rarely voiced compliments aloud, and while Keith made sure Lance knew he loved him more than anything, he could see how Lance preened over every sticky note.

It was easier for Keith to write down the compliments than to say them. He'd labor over each one all day at work to make sure it was perfect, and that it perfectly conveyed how he felt about aspects of Lance. Not physical either. It satisfied Keith to see Lance tear up at Keith waxing poetically about his selfless nature, his kind heart, the way he approached life:

"I lovE you bEcausE you makE EvEryonE fEEl likE lovE is a simplE and possiblE Emotion."

"You bRought love in my life when I didn't think I would eveR find it. I love you foR that."

"Your sMile lights up the rooM, the sky, My life."

Yeah, Keith could be romantic if he put his mind to it.

Lance took to pressing all the sticky notes onto scrapbook pages, declaring he'd make it up into a special book once he'd finished The Catcher in the Rye. If he hinted around that he'd be more than happy to read other books as long as Keith kept up this insanely romantic gesture, Keith couldn't blame him. Maybe he would.

The pages ended up having summaries of the chapters written around that chapter's sticky note, as well as Keith and Lance's perspectives. A selfie or two of them reading also made it onto the scrapbook pages. Keith, who normally ignored Lance's scrapbook hobby, found himself glancing over these new ones frequently, smiling as he traced his finger over Lance's handwritten comments about Holden Caulfield.

"Last chapter!" Lance sang out as he eagerly took the book from Keith's hands. Keith had carefully placed the sticky note on the page after the last page of writing.

"No peeking," he warned. It was unnecessary. Despite the fact Lance couldn't stand not peeking and spoiling himself for everything else, he had behaved perfectly while reading. Never once did Keith catch him looking ahead for his compliment.

"I won't," Lance promised, giving him a little grin. "I'm a good boy."

"Riiiiiiiight," Keith dragged out.

"I'm gonna kind of miss this, to be honest," Lance said as he settled onto the couch with the shark blanket and a mug of hot chocolate Keith had made him.

"I've got more books," Keith offered. Lance beamed at him, until he added, "But I'll probably run out of compliments. Then you'll have no reason to read."

"I didn't read it just for the compliments," Lance protested. "I mean, I loved them, Keith, don't get me wrong. Even with all your weird writing."

"Weird writing?"

Lance put his empty mug down and gestured to the scrapbook, which lived on the coffee table now, within easy reach for Lance to immediately press the sticky note into it and write his thoughts. "Yeah, I never noticed it. Your writing is weird. You like…randomly capitalize letters."

"You knew I was weird when you asked me out."

"True," Lance agreed, flipping to the bookmark so he could finish the last chapter. Keith buried his nose in his own book.

It didn't take long, however, before Lance fretted, glancing over the edge of his book at Keith. "Okay, this ending is not that satisfactory."

"You're done?" Keith asked, letting his own book fall into his lap.

"I am. I do not like the ending."

"I think it's the point of the book," Keith said, with a shrug.

"But Holden needs his happy ending."

"Not every book has a happy ending."

"Well, the next one you give me better have a happy ending or I'm going to mutiny. And I'm a little mad no one threw any bread in this," Lance said, shaking the book at Keith.

"I never promised bread."

Lance huffed, then grinned. "At least I get my last compliment," he said, flipping the page to the pink sticky and eagerly pulled it off, letting Keith's precious book fall into his lap.

"Careful with that!"

Lance ignored him, staring at the sticky note with a slight frown. "What is this?"

"What?"

"This!" Lance said, flapping the little square of pink. "There's no compliment. Only some weird instruction."

"What does it say?"

"'Look back at all your sticky notEs and look for the wEird'," Lance read. "Then there's a bunch of question marks."

Keith shrugged and lifted his book again. "Do what it says, I guess," he suggested.

Lance stared at him for a few minutes, then reached over to grab the scrapbook. "Weird, weird, weird…" he muttered to himself as he flipped through the pages. Keith pretended to read, but he peered over the top of his book, watching Lance. His boyfriend chewed on his bottom lip, reached up to scratch at his head, scrunched his expression as he puzzled over each page. "Keith, the only thing weird is the weird little capitalization thing you've got going on."

"Getting warmer," Keith said in a bored tone.

"Oo! You did a code for me? Cool!" Lance exclaimed. "Now how do I solve it?"

"You're smart," Keith said. "I'm sure you can figure it out."

Lance ran his fingers over each sticky note. "Hmm. Well. In each note, you capitalize the same letter. So…" He jumped up, ran into the kitchen, then came back with the pad of pink sticky notes and a pen. He sat on the edge of the couch, spread the scrapbook open, and leaned over the coffee table. He muttered as he worked. "The first note you gave me has all capital L's." He wrote an "L" on the pad. "And the next has all A's…"

Keith simply hummed. As Lance's concentration was on the scrapbook, he gently set his book down and dipped his hands under the shark blanket.

"N-C-E," Lance spelled out. "My name!" he said, laughing. "I'm on the right track!"

"Very smart, baby," Keith said, now resting his hands on his lap above the blanket.

"M-C-C-L-A-I-N. I bet the rest spells out YOU ARE AWESOME!" Lance teased, flipping to the next page. Keith watched him work – watched how Lance wrote each letter, turned the page, wrote the next letter. After another handful of pages, however, Lance gasped, pressing his left hand against his mouth. "Oh, my God," he choked out, turning the pages with a now shaky hand. "Oh, my God," he repeated. "M-E." At the conclusion, he stared at the pink square pad covered with his writing. "Oh, my God. And there's question marks on the last one," he murmured through his fingers. "Are you serious?"

Keith leaned forward to look at the pad, too. "Huh," he said. "Interesting."

"LANCE MCCLAIN WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

He smiled as Lance's head whipped around to look at him, meeting those beautiful eyes and holding up the velvet box in his hand he had hidden earlier that day.

"You're serious."

"I bought a ring and everything."

"You proposed to me over twenty-six days?"

"Well, thirty-two, actually. You didn't read every night."

"I can't believe this."

"I'm just glad you read the book," Keith said. "Or you wouldn't have gotten the question."

"Keith…" Lance's eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

"So…" Keith drawled out, lifting the ring box a little. "You gonna answer my question or not?"

"You are impossible," Lance said, his voice strained. He gave a loud laugh, pressing both hands now against his mouth. "Yes. Yes. Twenty-six chapters yes!"