Keith stared at himself in the mirror.
He didn't have a lot of clothes. Lance had said something about dressing up but Keith's closet consisted of his paladin uniform and sweatpants. And his one other outfit: black skinny jeans and a black t-shirt. He'd considered consulting Shiro but ultimately decided against it, thinking he was better off with his own clothes and his own opinion.
Well.
Maybe not the latter.
Okay. Maybe not either.
Keith shot a look at his red jacket, sprawled out on his bed. He'd taken it on, off, on again, off again, and went back in forth too many times to count before settling on no jacket.
But as he inspected himself in the mirror, he was starting to doubt the final verdict.
His exposed arms were covered in cuts and bruises, which wasn't unusual, but they were typically hidden behind his jacket or uniform. And his pale complexion didn't help. It made them all the more visible.
Keith started to think about the color of Lance's skin, how beautiful and rich it was, how much he liked the taste of it under his lips, and how he'd never get tired of looking at it.
Keith wondered what Lance was wearing. Whatever it was, he'd look great. He looked great in anything.
But Keith considered the fact that he might be underdressed. It was just a t-shirt, after all. It clung to his skin pretty much everywhere and didn't let go. Sure, his muscles were prominent, and he blushed thinking about how much he knew Lance liked that, but was it too...casual?
There was a knock at the door. Keith whipped his head away from the mirror. He gave one last look to his jacket. Another knock.
Keith decided to leave the jacket.
Making his way across the room, he took a breath and opened the door.
Lance's grin beamed back at him.
His smile widened, reaching his eyes, when he saw Keith.
He didn't even bother hiding the way he examined Keith's chest, which was fine by Keith, who looked at his.
Keith suddenly understood why Lance liked this shirt on him so much.
Lance was wearing his own tight t-shirt. A white v-neck, sticking to him like a second skin. It revealed the outline of each individual muscle, tight here and loose there, showing what was underneath without actually putting it on full display. It was like putting a tarp over a chiseled sculpture.
Keith swallowed, cheeks warming. "Hey."
Lance looked at him. "Hey yourself."
"Is this…" he gestured down at himself.
"It's perfect!" Lance chirped.
Keith smiled.
Lance cleared his throat, finding his confidence. He held out his arm, making a ninety degree angle with his elbow. "Shall we?"
Keith hesitated, unsure of what to do with it. But it became obvious Lance wanted him to hold on. So he looped his arm around Lance's.
"Are you gonna tell me where we're going?"
Lance's grin bubbled over into his voice. "Nope. It's staying a surprise until we get there."
Keith rolled his eyes without putting any real annoyance behind it.
Lance led him down the hallways, practically skipping every couple steps but slowing down when he lost pace with Keith.
He guided Keith to the dining room. Outside the door, Keith raised his eyebrows. "Uh…?"
Lance dropped his arm and pushed the door open. "Surprise!"
Together, they walked inside.
On the closest edge of the table, there were two places set up for a meal. Each had a plate, a napkin, silverware, and some sort of dish that looked alien but smelled delicious.
Between the plates sat a candle and a vase of flowers. The lights in the room were dimmed almost completely, so the candle's flame was the only source of brightness.
Amazed, Keith turned to Lance. "You did all this...for me?"
"With help from Hunk."
"Hunk?"
Lance nodded. "I asked Hunk to make dinner for us cause I...am actually not a good cook," he said. "I thought we were overdue for a real date." His smile slipped as his gaze fell to the floor. "Do you-uh...do you like it?"
"Lance…" Keith connected their gazes. "I love it."
Lance's eyes brightened. The tension in his face melted. "You do? Seriously?"
"Of course I do."
