Loosen Up My Buttons

This had to be perfect.

Keith had it in him. He knew he did. He wasn't completely hopeless.

He didn't think.

His right leg bounced up and down, the ball of his foot pressed into the faded old carpet of their apartment. It only did that when he was nervous and he frowned down at the offending limb. Why should he be nervous? There was no reason to be. This was Lance, for goodness sake. His fiancé.

His gorgeous, sexy, beautiful fiancé.

Who had rhythm and sexy moves.

Keith slapped his hand on his knee, halting the bouncing movement. This wouldn't do. He had to be confident. Or appear to be confident, because Allura said, it had everything to do with confidence. You project how good you are and everyone will believe it.

Of course, he grumbled to himself, easy for her to say with her naturally graceful movements, innate sense of rhythm, and ability to become one with the music. This was going to be a disaster.

No. No. He spoke firmly to himself in his mind. It wasn't. He was going to blow. Lance's. Mind.

He'd practiced. He had his routine. Allura had shown him some good moves. So, he wasn't as…loose…in his movements as her, or Lance for that matter. He could still do them.

He glanced over at the clock on the side table on his side of the bed. 6:14pm. Lance should be home by now, unless he missed his train. Lance was forever missing his train and coming home ten minutes late. Leave it to Lance to come home late on the anniversary of the day Keith proposed. Keith felt a lopsided smile slip onto his face as his leg started bouncing again.

Lance probably forgot the date. Sure, it wasn't as important a date to remember as the first time they went out. Or the first time they kissed. Or the first time…Keith felt a slight blush. That had been years ago, and it still made his cheeks warm up. But maybe the day you made a commitment to spend the rest of your life with someone wasn't as much an important day. Ugh. Keith slapped his hand down on his knee again.

'Was it too much?' he thought, glancing around the room. He'd turned off the main light, but the lamp next to Lance's side of the bed was on. Keith stared at it, wondering if he should take off the red piece of gauzy fabric he'd put there to change the light to a sexy red tone to try and set the mood. Candles flickered all over the room, placed on every flat surface that wasn't already covered with the detritus Lance always left behind him in his private areas – face cream, styling products, masks. Keith would put them back in the bathroom where they belonged, but things always migrated back into their room.

Keith had also put that gauzy red fabric everywhere, tacking it up on the wall above the bed, over the bed itself, draped over the chair he currently occupied, over the curtains at the window. He was convinced it would soften the plain room and give it a sexy character to go with his plans. The fabric had been on sale, so it was a great bargain!

And he was sure it would look incredibly sexy when done.

No, this looked like the idea of a whorehouse from a movie director who'd never been in a whorehouse. And a cheap one at that. He really should take it down.

Scrap this whole idea.

But it was for Lance, and he would do anything for that goofy, loving, beautiful man he was set to marry in five months.

Before he could stand up and change everything in the room he'd set up, he heard the front door open and close. Lance's muffled, but still sunny and bright voice, called out for him. Keith didn't answer. He was, in fact, frozen for a moment at his impending doom. No. Confidence. Not doom. This would be great! Not the biggest mistake he'd make with Lance. No no no.

He stiffly got up from the chair placed in the center of the open space of their small bedroom. Ugh, he had to loosen up. He tilted his head from side to side, shook his arms a bit, and jumped up and down a few times. Confidence, Keith, he told himself. Confidence.

"Baby?" Lance's voice was clearer now as his steps eventually directed him to the short hallway to the bedroom.

"In here!" Keith squeaked. Dammit, that did not sound confident.

"What are you-?" Lance began when the door opened. Keith saw his fiancé's silhouette framed in the doorway from the light of the hallway. "Babe? What's going on?"

Keith put on his most sexy and seductive smile, which he feared looked more like a sick whale grimacing. "It's a surprise." Ok good, at least his voice was naturally gravelly, which Lance found sexy.

Lance stepped through the door and closed it. Now, in the dim light of the room, Keith could see the details of the man opposite him. Lance, dressed for work in a light blue button down, tie, and gray slacks, had tired eyes lit up with curiosity. A couple of emotions flitted across his face – Lance wore all his emotions plainly for everyone to see. Prominent at this moment was confusion.

"A surprise?"

Keith gestured to their rickety kitchen table chair, a dumpster find a month after they moved in together. Lance was the king of dumpster diving, and much of their apartment was furnished from curbsides. "Have a seat and find out." Yes, smooth, Keith, smooth.

Lance looked at the chair, looked at Keith, looked at the chair, then back to Keith again. His eyebrows drew together and Keith pictured that one meme where the calculations are all in the air around a confused woman. He liked that meme because it was one of the few he actually understood.

"Why does the room look like a cheap whorehouse?"

Keith groaned inwardly. He knew it. He just knew it. Lance would have made this look romantic, sweet, and soft. Lance's aesthetic: romantic boudoir. Keith's aesthetic: cheap whorehouse.

"It doesn't," he protested, though, yeah, it did. "It's romantic."

Lance blinked a few times, then looked around the room. With his eyes finally landing on the bed itself, innocently sitting pressed up against the wall, but covered in red fabric, he said, "It certainly is something."

"Just sit down," Keith said, the pleading tone negating the sexy one he'd tried for earlier.

"Sure, baby," Lance said, giving him another strange look as he took the few steps to the chair and settled himself in. His hands grasped the seat on either side of his thighs and he looked expectantly at Keith, though with a slight resigned expression in his eyes.

Oh, shit. Show time. Keith was not ready, but here was Lance sitting there looking up at him while Keith pressed his lower back against the dresser, unable to move. They stared at each other for a good minute. Keith's fingers nervously pulled at each other and he shifted his weight from one foot to the next. He was fully dressed, down to his nicest dress shoes with the least amount of scuffs on them.

"Babe?" Lance said, giving him an encouraging smile. "You had a surprise…?"

"Ye-yeah. I did. I do," Keith stammered. He swallowed against a dry throat. "Yeah." It spurred him to motion, and he turned to his phone, sitting atop the dresser. "Yeah," he repeated, unlocking it and pressing play on the song he'd picked.

Nothing.

"Um. Hang on…" He fiddled with the phone a moment, glanced at the Bluetooth speaker he'd moved to the dresser. "Uh."

"Are you trying to play something?" Lance asked.

"It was working before," Keith said with a pout.

Keith was bad at figuring out the Bluetooth. It never worked for him. Fuck. Pressing play, then pause, then play, then pause didn't fix it. The speaker was on. There was the fucking green light. He heard a slight rustle.

"Here, let me look," Lance offered, taking his phone gently from him. A few moments of pressing the screen and Keith heard a click through the speaker. "There. I just reconnected it."

"Okay. Okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Lance said, then returned to his seat.

Keith navigated the phone back to his playlist and his selected song. Once it was ready, he put the phone back on the dresser, cursed his shaking hands, took a big breath, and hit play.

The speaker must have been set too loud, because the first beat drop of the song made him jump and spin around, catching the surprised lift of Lance's eyebrows. He leaned back against the dresser, his hands sliding in opposite directions along the edge away from him. That looked sexy didn't it?

Wait. Hips. Allura told him to use his hips. So he did, swinging them to one side, then to the other – almost in time to the music. Close enough he thought, anyway. How long did the intro to this song go on, anyway? Despite practicing all week, he couldn't remember under Lance's stare.

Okay, now to the routine. He pushed off against the dresser, congratulating himself on improvising the use of that piece of furniture. A push with a sloppy roll of the body. Not sloppy. Confident and sexy. Wasn't Lance's mouth dropped open now as he stepped oh-so-sexily closer to him?

"I'm telling you to loosen up my buttons babe
But you keep frontin'"

"Keith…" Lance exclaimed as Keith slid to his side, running his hand over Lance's upper arm and shoulder. At least Keith thought Lance said his name. That music was loud.

He stepped around behind the chair, trailing fingers over Lance's shoulders, then on the other side; he turned to rub his ass against Lance's arm as he passed to position himself in front of his stunned fiancé. That was nice. Good move, Keith.

Spinning around in a move Allura showed him, arching his back and running his own hands down his front to his crotch he realized he was facing away from Lance when he did it. Shit. He turned again and tried the move, swaying his hips while he did.

Lance's eyes were wide and his lips were pressed together. This was working!

Shit, he forgot how to take off his shoes in a sexy way. What did Allura tell him? He couldn't remember the move, so he lifted his foot up and yanked at it until it clattered to the floor. He did another turning spin before he did the other, except that the one already off got in his way and he nearly tripped. A hand on the dresser stopped a complete fall. Lance had reached forward to help, but Keith waved it off.

Ok. Shoes off. Now the rest.

The chorus. That's when he was supposed to undo the buttons of his shirt, because that made sense in a song about loosening up the buttons. And the song was on the chorus again. He danced closer to Lance, biting his lower lip as he held eye contact and slowly undid the buttons one by one.

He felt himself getting into it. Lance looked exactly how he hoped he would, wide-eyed and stunned. That was worth everything, even at the cost of Keith's reddened cheeks. With the buttons undone, he turned again, with his back to Lance and slowly drew the shirt down his arms, shaking his ass the whole time.

The shirt dropped to the floor, leaving Keith in a tight black t-shirt. Keith hugged himself, rubbing his upper arms and looked over his shoulder at Lance, eyes half-closed with his best come-hither look. Man, this was going better than he thought!

He thrust his arms above his head, executing another sexy turn with a swivel of his hips. Again, not exactly in time to the music, but it had to be hot the way Lance's eyes were dancing now. Belt now. Unfortunately, it was a struggle to undo it the way he'd practiced. He fumbled with the buckle. Fuck. Dammit. Not now.

"Need help?" Lance offered in a voice loud enough to be heard over the music.

Keith ignored him since the buckle gave and he straightened with a satisfied smirk to pull the belt slowly through each loop, hips again moving back and forth. Perfect. Except, when he went to twirl it above his head, he miscalculated how far he was from the wall and knocked one of their framed pictures to the floor. Shit.

Lance's lips were pressed together again. He must really be into this! Oh, that 'loosen up my buttons' chorus again, which was a perfect time to undo the button of his pants, so he did, stepping closer to Lance while he slowly pulled down his zipper.

His knees bumped against Lance's and he stumbled a bit, letting go of his pants with one hand to steady himself on Lance's shoulder. Lance made a small noise, but quickly schooled his features again. His gaze was intent on Keith, so Keith gave him his sexiest smile, feeling like it was more a grimace than anything. Lance did sort of look turned on, or something else he couldn't quite place.

He decided to flip his hair in a sexy way. Allura had encouraged him to do it ("Lance loves your hair…he goes on and on about it…"). Keith agreed because Lance did always did have his fingers buried into his long hair. So, he flipped it and at the same time ran his fingers through it with his mouth half open. He directed his hair kind of over his shoulder and out of his eyes. Except…it got in his mouth and spitting it out probably wasn't that sexy.

He thought the song was almost over, so he had to get the rest of his clothes off right away. How to do this sexily fast? As part of one of the moves Allura showed him? Yeah. Keith stepped back from Lance, trying to do that spin move with an arched back while he grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up – sensually, of course.

Only…he didn't count on the vertigo caused by spinning and blindness with the fabric of the shirt over his face mid-takeoff. He felt his feet tangle in themselves and the swooping sick feeling of falling back.

"Keith!" and there were strong arms around his torso guiding him backwards. He landed on what felt like Lance's lap, his arms sticking straight up and caught in the t-shirt stuck on his head. "Baby, you okay?"

"Fuck," he said, struggling with the shirt.

"Here, let me," Lance's voice said, muffled as it was.

Keith stopped squirming and let Lance guide the shirt off. Or wait, no…Lance was pulling it back down to cover him up. "Lance…" he protested after his face was uncovered.

Gentle hands slid their way over his front, smoothing out his t-shirt, then the arms tightened, hugging Keith closely. He felt Lance's face burrow into his hair, lips searching out the nape of his neck for a little kiss. "Mmm?"

"I'm not done…"

Lance was silent, holding him tightly. Keith sat, frustrated, because the song was almost done. Then Keith heard a stifled giggle. Then another. Then, without warning, Lance's arms clenched tighter and he started laughing whole-heartedly behind Keith.

"Why are you laughing?!"

"Oh, sweetheart," Lance gasped.

The song ended and moved to the next. "Let It Go" from Frozen filled the room (it was on his playlist for Lance, okay?) and Keith swore. He scrambled off Lance's lap and rushed to the dresser to shut off his phone. Then he stood, his back to Lance and his hands flat on the top of the piece of furniture. He'd totally fucked this up. Lance was choking back laughter and Keith's whole face felt on fire.

Why was he so inept? Lance did stuff like this for him all the time. Little sexy dances to entice him. Lance knew how to take his clothes off in a way that made Keith's mouth water. Keith couldn't take his clothes off sexy. He couldn't dance. He couldn't even shake his hips. He side-eyed the door, wondering where in their small apartment he could hide himself away. He supposed he could sleep in the car for a few days.

A soft rustle of fabric, a creak of a floorboard, and Lance's hands slid around his sides. Little huffs of laughter, quieter now, but still there, puffed against his hair. He cringed, but Lance had a tight hold on him.

"Thank you…" Lance murmured.

Keith snorted, a particularly unsexy sound. But that was just par for the course tonight. "For what? Making you laugh?"

"For being the most…"

"Awkward, unsexy, pathetic excuse for a human ever?" Keith interrupted.

Lance squeezed him tighter, landing a kiss on the back of his head. "For being the sexiest, most amazing, most perfect excuse for a human ever."

"I can't even dance for you…and there was nothing sexy in whatever it was I just did."

Lance turned Keith around to face him, though Keith kept his eyes directed down, noting that Lance had on his favorite tie – the one with surfboards on it – and what looked like a little ketchup stain on the right side. Lance always dropped food on himself when he ate, because he ate so recklessly and enthusiastically.

"Hey," Lance said softly. "Hey," he repeated, poking his finger under Keith's chin and putting a little upward pressure there. "Look at me."

Keith tilted his head up, his cheeks flushed with humiliation. Lance was smiling down at him, his eyes full of amusement and love. "I'm sorry…" Keith whispered.

"That…" Lance said, nodding his head once, "was amazing."

"No it wasn't. It was…embarrassing and awful, and you probably think I'm the worst fiancé ever."

"Uh, first of all, you don't get to say that on the anniversary of the day you proposed."

"You remembered?"

"Yeah…" Lance frowned slightly. "How could I forget the day my dreams came true?"

Keith huffed out a small, unamused laugh.

"Second…baby, do you think I don't know how much it took for you to do that for me?"

"What?"

"I know you're not comfortable doing things like that."

"I just wanted to do something sexy for you. Since you do it for me all the time," Keith said. "I wanted to turn you on and I completely failed…"

Lance put his finger on Keith's lips. "So you can't 'sexy dance' for me. Do you think I actually care? When everything else you do just existing every day turns me on? I don't need a strip tease when I can watch you do dishes or look up at you when we cuddle on the couch. You're sexy when you don't even try to be."

"Lance…"

Lance reached behind Keith and grabbed his phone. He looked at the screen over Keith's shoulder and picked another song – a love song they danced to at Lance's sister's wedding. He dropped the phone back on the dresser and pulled Keith away, draping his forearms over Keith's shoulders and locking his fingers together behind Keith's neck.

"This is sexier dancing anyway," Lance murmured, giving Keith a little smile.

As Lance started swaying, Keith lifted his hands to his fiancé's waist, letting Lance lead him in the little dance. Dance only in name…it was more just slow moving with each other, but Keith started feeling that bubbling in his veins that he always felt in Lance's presence. That drunk, euphoric sensation that always coursed through him at even the mere glance at the handsome man in his arms. A handsome man that still looked at him with adoration even after five years. He had to agree, this was pretty sexy because it was them and it was all they needed to get in the mood. Lance being himself. Keith being himself. And being themselves together was all they needed to spark love and desire.

"I picked up a cake on the way home," Lance whispered to him. "It's why I was a little late. How about we eat the fuck out of that cake and binge some mothman docs?"

"That…that sounds perfect," Keith said, a grin finally popping onto his face.

"And then you can bring me into your whorehouse and have your way with me…"

"Ass!" Keith exclaimed, pushing Lance away with a laugh.

Author's Note: Written as a prize for Sampai, who won it during DWDK Keith's birthday party!