Click My Buttons

If truth were to be told, Lance would say he hated his Thursday morning class. Not only was it the most boring class in the world (who would be excited about statistics?), but it was also an eight am class. To be fair, he had more faith in his ability to wake up early and hike across the entire campus from his dorm to the lecture hall before the semester started. What he hadn't counted on was being given the closing shift on Wednesday nights. As it was a school co-op kind of thing, he had to work it to supplement his tuition.

It royally sucked.

Not that Lance hadn't had boring classes before. Who hadn't? Just, the combination of a professor who droned on about numbers and percentages and whatever else he droned on about…a lack of sleep (Really? Closing the cafeteria at one am? And he had to clean up?)…and never enough time to stop and grab a coffee as he stumbled out of bed for the run across campus to rush into his assigned seat.

It was an intro class, so it was large and, in order to take attendance, each of them had to log on to the class 'Blackboard' online. That's where his nemisis was, something he dubbed in his mind as "THE CLICKER". Lance had come to hate the thing – a part of their online Blackboard that looked like a box with A, B, C, and D buttons. With so many students, it was easier to test how much reading they had done and how much retention there was in their brains by asking questions and waiting for the entire class to select the answer.

Lance logically understood it. Of course, he did. He simply hated it.

Because he had to stay awake for it. He couldn't rely on the ancient tape recorder type of device his mother had dug out of God knew where to loan to him. It worked for his History class. In that class, he hit record and dozed off. No one saw him in the back row, and he could take notes before his shift. Easy peasy.

Not so much with statistics. If he didn't select answers to the presented questions, well, he lost class participation points. While they weren't a huge percentage of his grade, earning no class participation points could bring his grade down from an A to a B.

He couldn't let that happen. Not when his parents did what they could to keep him in college. Not when he worked so hard in his work-study to keep himself in college. Not when he had to keep his grades up to maintain his scholarship to stay in college.

It was just hard to stay awake in Statistics class.

Just over a month in – near the beginning of October – he caved. His eyelids were incredibly heavy this morning. It was one of those rainy fall days, perfect for staying inside under the covers. He'd had a paper due for English that afternoon, so he'd stayed up to put the finishing touches on it after his shift. He didn't drag himself into bed – fully clothed – until after four in the morning. That left him three hours of sleep before a quick shower and dash across the campus.

The slight jolt of adrenaline from the early morning, unintentional jog, ebbed away as soon as he slid tiredly into the chair and logged into Blackboard to show he was here. He wearily set up his laptop to see both "The Clicker" and the document he used to take notes on his screen. Lance mobilized his energy enough to flash a bright smile at the redhead who sat on his left, though he couldn't muster any more energy for a flirty remark for her.

Pressing the keys on his keyboard as he typed the date felt like he was pressing against cement. Gods was he tired. Damn this class and damn the participation. He thought of his narrow bed back in the dorm and Hunk's loud snores and the cozy quilt Abuelita made for him. He'd give anything to be back in there, slipping into dreamland where he was a space hero or dragon slayer or something equally cool. No. Here he was, seated at a long desk, wedged between a pretty redhead and…he looked to his right…oh yeah. Emo Boy.

Lance had barely exchanged a dozen words with Emo Boy. Perhaps calling him Emo Boy in his head wasn't fair, but if anyone fit the stereotype, it was this guy. Long and shaggy dark hair, pale skin, dark circles under his eyes (which made Lance think he probably stayed up all night playing Minecraft, drinking energy drinks, and listening to whatever Emo Boys listened to now), and generally well-used clothing. 'Well-used' in the sense that his always-black jeans were ripped in places, his Docs were scuffed up, and his t-shirts were worn.

Yeah, it was pretty hot, to be honest, but Lance never picked up on any sort of friendly vibe from the guy. A cheerful good morning was met with a grunt on the first day, and after that Lance was also reduced to grunted noises for conversation once his late night shift began.

He looked back at his screen, now blurry from the way his eyes were crossing. Maybe if he put his head on the desk for just a moment? Catch three minutes of slumber before the lecture began? All of a sudden, his head felt heavier and his eyelids felt as if weights were attached to them. Just one minute. That's all. He promised himself this as he lay his head wearily on his arm.

A noise jolted him out of a dead sleep. Lots of noises, actually. The general noise of his fellow students' voices raised in conversation and the scraping of chairs as people got up from their seats. Class was over? He'd slept two hours? Emo Boy and Redhead were gone, he noticed, as he swiveled his head back and forth. Why didn't one of them wake him? Oh, shit! He felt his heart race in panic. The participation grade! He hadn't been clicking answers all throughout class.

He groaned, his face dropping into his upraised hands, elbows propped on the desk. He was going to fail the class. Or, at least, drop his grade down. He was used to getting all A's, and didn't want to contemplate getting a B on what should be an easy (albeit boring) subject. Fuck fuck fuck.

Maybe if he explained it to the professor? Professor Smythe seemed like a jovial type of guy, so maybe he'd be sympathetic just one time to poor Lance, if poor Lance explained the situation to him. He reached for his recording device – just because he had to stay awake for the class, he still used it to record the lecture. If he missed anything taking notes, he'd have this as backup. His heart sank, however, because he didn't remember to hit record before he fell asleep.

Only. He looked at the thing. It was still recording. Huh. He didn't remember turning it on. 'Strange,' he thought as he pressed the button to shut it off. He could have sworn he hadn't hit record.

Maybe his sleep-deprived self had done it.

The Blackboard was, of course, still up on his laptop, along with the painfully blank document for his notes. That wouldn't be an issue. Since he had recorded it, he could take notes later. Lance leaned forward, peering at his screen with red-rimmed, sleepy eyes.

All his questions had been answered. Correctly, too.

He had no idea what was going on. How did he participate? Did his sleep-dead self understand the lecture better than his awake self? Was there a gremlin in the class pressing his clicker buttons?

Then it hit him. The cute redhead girl. His laptop was on the desk close to her. Relatively, anyway. Maybe she had taken pity on him and pressed the buttons for him. That was…incredibly sweet…and he had to think of some way to thank her.

"Just wanted to thank you," Lance said, shooting a tired smile at Redhead as he placed a coffee on the desk in front of her. "I didn't know what you like to drink, so I got a vanilla latte. Hope that's okay."

She stared at the drink, a small cup with Lance's name on it. The barista had put it there when he ordered it. "Uh, thanks?" she said, her tone confused. She did pull it to her, however. "Vanilla is my favorite. After caramel."

"Maybe I'll grab caramel next week," he said. He tried to flirt, but once again, his energy was completely gone. Inventory last night, combined with transcribing his history notes that he hadn't gotten to after class because of his long shift the day before, combined with a nightmare of failing his class, left him sleepless and heavy-lidded once again.

She simply nodded, a slight frown on her face. Lance slid into his seat, situating his own coffee on the corner of his space before pulling out his laptop. He could feel his brain tugging him to sleep as he sluggishly went through the motions of setting things up. Maybe a big gulp of his coffee would help. He'd added a couple shots of espresso. But the cup looked far away and heavy and it seemed like a lot of effort to make for just one drink.

He was out before Emo Boy arrived.

A nudge on his side and a muttered "Class is over" in his ear woke him. By the time he was fully awake and blinking like an owl at the chaos around him, whoever had woken him was gone. Lance glanced at his laptop and saw, once again, he'd answered all the questions. All of them had a green check mark, noting he'd gotten them correct, and his recorder was still recording. Redhead came through for him again.

He turned to thank her, but she was gone. 'Huh, she must be shy or humble or something,' Lance thought, reaching for the coffee left neglected on the corner of the desk. Only, it was on the other corner and he was sure he'd left it on the right. Oh well. His mind was a mess of confusion, so he shrugged it off, taking a swig. He made a face as the cold liquid hit his tongue. He should have drank it before he slept.

Lance gathered his things and wearily shoved them in his bag; he made a mental note that Redhead liked caramel lattes and to get up early enough next week to snag her a thank you coffee once again.

"I'm grateful," Lance said, rubbing at his temples. His elbows framed his statistics book and numbers floated in his vision, wavering on the page. "I mean, she doesn't have to click for me."

"You should still try and stay awake," Hunk suggested. He sat across Lance at the library, tapping away on his laptop.

"Believe me, I want to. It's just so boring," Lance said, regretting the whine that colored his tone. "But, I kinda feel bad. Like, how am I going to ace this midterm? Professor Smythe probably thinks I'm some Stats savant. Or I'm cheating, if my answers are all the same as the girl next to me."

"Well, either way," Hunk said with a shrug, though he didn't bother to explain what he meant, much to Lance's irritation.

"Not helping."

"Get her another coffee this week, and then apologize and ask for her help studying. Midterms are next week. Maybe she can help this weekend."

Lance perked up, focusing his cross-eyed gaze on his roommate. "That's a great idea! Then she can see me when I'm, well, still not my best. but better than I have been in class."

"Yeah. Awake probably would be a better look on you."

A wave of sleepiness tugged at him once again as he trudged up the stairs to the lecture hall, messenger bag banging against his hip as he balanced a cup of coffee-to-go in each hand. They both had his name on them, but one had the addition of his number. He had a slight flutter of hope in his chest. Redhead was cute – not quite his type, but who was he to knock it when he ran into someone who was not only cute, but also kind? Who knows? Maybe she was awesome all around, and this proposed study date could turn into something more? Like a real date, if he ever had time.

Redhead sat at her usual spot at the row of desks, her space already organized for her note taking. She was scrolling through her phone and looked bright-eyed and proverbially bushy-tailed. How did some people do it? The bags under his eyes were nearly as large as his messenger bag. He'd opted to put a beanie on his head, telling himself it was totally because it was slightly chilly (it wasn't) and not because it would hide the bedhead state of his hair. He'd slept until the last possible minute, rolling out of bed into yesterday's clothes and didn't bother with anything more than brushing his teeth.

"Thank you, again," he said, trying to inject some element of brightness to his tone, though he could hear how flat and rough his voice sounded.

She glanced up at him, gave him a look up and down, and then focused on the coffee in his hands. "For what?"

"For your help the past couple of weeks," he answered, lifting the cup with his number on it. "You said caramel was your favorite, right?"

"Dude, you're weird," she replied, giving him a frown. "Why the fuck do you think I'm helping you?"

"Wha —?"

"You can't even stay awake you loser. Why would I help you?"

Lance blinked a few times, mouth dropped open. His tired brain couldn't process what she had said to him. The main thing it supplied was that she was insulting him, but he didn't understand why. If she'd helped him, why would she insult him? She was kind, wasn't she?

Wait. She said she didn't help him? Or rather, asked why he thought she did. Who else could it have been?

Lance, whose brain didn't communicate well with his mouth on the best of days — and seeing how he wasn't remotely at his best this morning — blurted, "Why'd you take the coffee last week?"

She shrugged. "Free coffee."

Well, now he felt like a total fool, standing here behind his chair with this girl glaring up at him. The coffees were warm in his hands and he felt his face heating up to match. "Oh," was all he managed. "So who has been helping me?"

"With what?"

"The clicker thing."

She rolled her eyes. "If you stayed awake, you wouldn't have to ask. Weirdo."

He ignored the insult. He had to know. "Who?"

"That emo guy," she answered, waving her hand toward the desk on the other side of him. "He has to lean over pretty far for it."

As his brain caught on to what she was saying, he swiveled his head to look at the empty chair next to his. Emo Boy was his savior? Wow. That was. That was awfully nice of him. Lance hadn't pegged him for a nice, helpful guy, but if he was saving Lance's butt two weeks in a row, then he had to be. Other than noticing how hot Emo Boy was, Lance hadn't put much thought into him. He just figured the monosyllable answers and caveman grunts he got from attempts at conversation meant that Emo Boy wanted nothing to do with him.

Maybe he had to rethink that.

Maybe later, when his brain wasn't sludge in his head.

"Sorry, then. My bad," he said, putting the two cups down on his desk.

"And, quit falling asleep. Your snores are annoying," she huffed, turning her attention back to her phone.

If Lance had more energy, he'd vehemently object to the accusation. He didn't snore! Unfortunately, he had no energy to argue with this mean girl, so he kept his mouth shut and slid into his chair. He eyed the two cups in front of him thinking perhaps two cups of coffee would help him stay awake.

The scrape of a chair next to him roused him from his staring reverie. How long had he been gazing at the coffee? He turned to see Emo Boy slumping into the chair. Lance never noticed before that Emo Boy used a notebook to take notes — if Emo Boy taking out a notebook and pen was any indication. How old school, he thought with an inward smile. It was kind of adorable.

"What are you staring at?"

The raspy voice gave him a little jolt. Had he been spacing out again? Shit. He was so fucking tired. His eyes focused on the dark ones staring back at him. It took a moment for his blurry sight to clear enough to make out Emo Boy's expression. Lance couldn't decide if he looked angry or anxious. Maybe both? "Wha —?"

"You're staring at me."

"Oh. Um. I'm sorry?"

"Are you asking me if you're sorry?"

Lance snorted, too exhausted to try and make his laugh sound cute and flirty like he usually did to hot people. "No. I just. Fuck. I'm so tired."

"You're always tired."

"You noticed?"

"Kind of hard not to when you're snoring in lecture next to me."

"I don't snore!" Huh. Somehow, he found the energy to protest this accusation from Emo Boy.

Lips quirked up on the left side of Emo Boy's mouth. "You record the lecture," he pointed out, nodding his head at Lance's old school recording device. "You don't hear it when you play it back?"

Lance did hear it when he played it back, of course. But, his snores were cute, little ones! Emo Boy made it sound like he was doing big beast snores. "No!" he lied.

Emo Boy hummed, and then turned his attention to his notebook to open it to a blank page. "Sure," he muttered, but to Lance he looked amused at the whole thing, not mean-faced about it.

Class would start in a couple of minutes — the professor had just walked in — but Lance knew it would take a bit of time for Dr. Smythe to log in and set up the PowerPoint and clicker thing for the day. The thought of pounding two cups of coffee was tempting, but he knew he should thank Emo Boy for the help the past couple of weeks. He grabbed the one with his number and held it out toward his right. "Here."

Emo Boy looked at the cup with suspicion. "What's this?"

"Coffee. From that café just off campus. You know, by Bell Hall?"

"Yeah, I know the place."

"It's near my dorm, so I go there a lot. I got this. For you." Tired brain was not helping with his words today.

"Why?"

"For helping me. I know it was you helping with the clicker thing. You saved my butt with the participation grade."

If Lance didn't trust his tired eyes from playing tricks on him, he thought he could see a slight flush to Emo Boy's cheeks. "How'd you know I did anything?"

Lance jerked his head in a very inelegant gesture backwards in what he hoped was the direction of the mean redhead. "She told me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So, I got you this. To say thanks." Then, realizing he didn't know if Emo Boy liked coffee, he spluttered. "I-I m-mean if you want it. I don't even know if you like coffee. A-and it's flavored. Oh, fuck, do you like caramel? I didn't know. I mean. I-I didn't know what to get." Reality and his imagination were stirring together into a sludge in his head. Why was Lance saying he got this for him?

Emo Boy took the offered cup, looking slightly doubtful. "Thanks," he said. "Um, I usually just take it black with a bit of sugar. But I'll try this." He focused his dark gaze back on Lance. "You didn't have to do this."

Damn was his gaze intense. Lance wished he were more with it mentally so he could face it down. For some reason, the thought that all he wanted to do was see that gaze soften with laughter floated into his head. "Um, you didn't have to finger my button," he said, then felt his cheeks heat again when Emo Boy's one eyebrow raised. "I mean, click my button! I mean. Fuck. Do the clicky thing!"

"I know what you meant," Emo Boy said with a huff of what Lance hoped was laughter.

"Anyway," Lance spluttered, completely flustered. Where was his smooth, loverboy persona? Buried under no sleep, apparently. "I just. You didn't have to do that. I appreciate it."

Emo Boy shrugged. "No big deal. I didn't think it fair that you should fail because you can't stay awake."

Lance let out a long sigh. "I work late on Wednesday nights. I didn't know what my shift was gonna be when I signed up for this class."

"You can't change it?"

"It's work study, so I don't think so? I don't know."

"Never hurts to ask. If it's through the college, they should be able to adjust according to your class schedule. I did work study my first year."

"You're a sophomore? Junior?"

"Soph."

"I never thought to ask. I figured I'd have to do what they gave me."

"You can always ask."

"True." A wave of relief swept through Lance, heightened because Emo Boy had taken his first sip of the caramel latte.

He caught Lance watching him and shot him a smile, which struck Lance firmly in the heart. The way his face transformed with the smile was breathtaking. "It's good."

Lance gave him a tired grin back. "I'm glad!"

Then, with a smirk that sunk Lance's heart into his shoes, he said, "I know you meant it for her." He nodded to the redhead on Lance's left. "But I still appreciate it."

He left Lance spluttering, but his protests died on his lips as Professor Smythe called the class to order to begin. Despite his determination to stay awake, and the large caramel latte he'd gotten for himself, Lance did drift off halfway. He woke only when Emo Boy shook his shoulder before he slipped out of the class, disappearing before Lance was awake enough to thank him for clicking again.

Emo Boy was a savior. Hands down an angel. A lifesaver.

Taking his advice on talking to someone about his hours, Lance approached his supervisor at his work-study position. The supervisor was sympathetic and explained he was under the impression Lance had a later class the day after his late shift. He looked over Lance's schedule and made adjustments. Lance still worked on Wednesday night, but was off by eight. The three hours he lost that night moved to Friday afternoon.

Lance lamented the loss of his Friday afternoon, but was so relieved that he would be able to study, do homework, and sleep on Wednesday nights he didn't care. Though he wouldn't be able to hang out with Hunk on Friday afternoons, they still had the night and the whole weekend.

Lance did feel a little stupid for not thinking about asking for the schedule adjustment himself. He would definitely have to thank Emo Boy, but couldn't think of anything other than getting him another coffee.

He fidgeted nervously at the desk, ignoring the mean redhead and keeping an eye on the door. Lance couldn't believe how awake and alert he was. He took notice of details in the lecture hall he never had before. He hadn't even known Dr. Smythe had a bushy mustache. His glance slid between the door and the desk next to him, where he'd placed a large cup purchased from the same café he visited every morning.

Emo Boy appeared and slunk over to the desk. Now able to function properly, Lance felt his heart constrict. He knew the guy was hot. He had been able to tell that much through his bleary-eyed glances. Oh wow, he hadn't known he was this hot.

His nerves keyed up; helped by the huge dose of caffeine he'd already gulped down. Lance had planned to get Emo Boy's name, at least, if not his number. He'd pictured flirting over text with said Emo Boy, charming him, and nabbing a coffee or study date in order to work his loverboy magic.

No. This guy was out of his league.

"Hey," the raspy voice jerked him from his spiral of thoughts.

"Oh! Hey!"

Emo Boy slid into his seat, glancing between Lance and the cup. "Caramel latte again?"

Lance shook his head, clearing his suddenly dry throat. "Uh, no. Black with two sugars. Oh, and since it's large, I didn't know if you meant you put two sugars in a small, so I grabbed a few more packets. They're in my bag. If you want. And, I grabbed some creamer things, just in case. You said you liked it like that, so I hope I got it right."

Emo boy listened with a raised brow, lips slightly parted as Lance rambled. After a bit of pause, he glanced at the coffee again. "Thanks. You really didn't have to."

"Dude, you saved my life!"

"Keith."

"Keith?"

"My name," Keith supplied, looking back at Lance, now with an amused expression Lance hadn't had a chance to get a good look at before. It was beautiful on Keith.

"Oh! Duh!" Lance felt like an idiot, and in a flat voice, said, "I'm Lance."

"Nice to meet you." Yeah, Keith's voice was definitely entering a teasing tone.

"You did seriously save my life. I talked to my supervisor and they adjusted my schedule."

"You do look a lot more awake today."

"I feel a lot more awake!" Not only did he feel it, Lance had enough time to dress a little nicer and to put more time into getting himself looking…maybe not his absolute best, but at least much more presentable than he'd ever had for class before. His absolute best he'd save for a special occasion with Emo Boy…Keith.

Keith reached for the coffee and brought it to his lips for a careful sip. It had time to cool a little from blazing hot, so Keith's caution was unwarranted. "Awake looks good on you," Keith commented.

Lance's cheeks flared up. He expected to turn his flirting skills on for Keith. He didn't expect Keith to flirt with him. So smooth, too. Flustered, he sputtered, "It's amazing what a guy can do with enough sleep."

Quirking his lips into a smile, Keith put the cup on his desk. "Perhaps click his own button?"

Oh, shit. He was good. Gaining a little control of himself, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Sometimes I like other people clicking my buttons." Keith laughed and sent Lance's heart into orbit. It was such a pretty sight. He nodded his head toward the coffee. "Did I get it right?"

"It's perfect."

"You know that café by Bell Hall?"

"Mhm. You mentioned that's where you got it."

Lance must have told Keith when he was in a sleep stupor. "Been there?"

"Actually, I haven't," Keith responded, bending down to his backpack and digging through it. "I pass it on the way in," he continued, his voice muffled a little. He pulled out his notebook and straightened up. "Haven't stopped in, though."

Lance nodded absently, took a deep breath, and mentally encouraged himself. "So, I was thinking, since you're, like, such a nice guy and all." Keith sipped again at his coffee, listening with an eyebrow raised and his dark eyes giving Lance an intense look which did not help his nerves. "I'm afraid I'm a little behind, so I was wondering if you could help me catch up?" Ugh, he was annoyed at how nervous he sounded.

Keith's eyes half-closed, a little smile creeping into his expression. "You need a study buddy?"

Lance opened his mouth to say something, but Dr. Smythe called for quiet in order to start his lecture. Keith, still wearing that smile, turned his attention to the front of the class, pulling his notebook closer and clicking his pen open. Lance, his cheeks still warm, put his fingers on his laptop keys and prepared to take notes.

"You sure you need a study buddy?" Keith asked as he pulled his backpack on his lap to tuck his materials away once the lecture was over.

"Huh?"

"You clicked everything right," Keith said, nodding toward Lance's laptop, clearly displaying all correct answers. "You obviously understand the material."

"Oh!" Lance exclaimed, his mind working fast. Yeah, he knew the material backward and forward. He simply wanted to use it as an excuse to see Keith outside of class. He felt flustered again, which irritated him. Wasn't he 'Loverboy Lance'? The King of Flirting? How was this guy outdoing him? "I…um…"

"If you wanted to ask me out, just ask me."

Okay, now he was really spluttering; and upset, because he knew he looked like an absolute idiot. Lance was more awake now, so why couldn't he pull himself together enough to turn on his charm? He was not prepared for this smooth fucker playing his game. "Fine! Want to go out?"

It was not the sweetest or romantic way he'd ever asked anyone out. In fact, his tone was downright rude and demanding, with flashing eyes and flushed cheeks. He could feel the stubborn set of his mouth and had to force himself to unclench his fist.

Keith, however, looked unperturbed. He laughed; the crinkling of the skin around his eyes stabbed Lance in the chest. "Sure. Why not?"

Lance's mouth dropped open. He was genuinely surprised. "What? Really?"

Keith unfolded himself from his seat, shoving his chair in and shrugging his backpack over his right shoulder. "Yeah. You're cute. And funny."

"Wait!" Lance cried, going so far as to lift his hand, palm out, as Keith turned away from him. "Y-your number? I mean. I need. Text…"

"I have yours. It was on the cup last week," Keith said, shooting a grin over his shoulder at Lance. "I already put it in my phone. I'll text you later."

Lance stared at Keith as he left the hall, his shock having turned him into stone. What just happened? Did he have a date with Keith? Keith thought he was cute? Wait! Lance was the romancer in this game! The smooth loverboy! How the hell did Keith turn the tables?

His phone pinged with a text notification, but he was still staring at the empty space Keith had occupied for class. Slowly he turned in his seat and woodenly put his stuff away in his bag. The fuck?

When he fumbled for his phone and checked it, he saw the message wasn't from a contact of his.

Unknown Number: So cute

He finally laughed, a smile breaking onto his face. He opened his text app and saved the new number as "Emo Boy". It was nice to be the target of flirting. And if Keith thought he was cute looking at his worst, imagine how he was gonna knock that boy out when looking his best.

Me: free thurday? got free afternoon, no class

Emo Boy: oh I think you have class

Me: :) like you wouldn't believe

Emo Boy: I believe it

Me: I menat class class

Emo Boy: I'm free after 3

Me: cool. meet at that cafe?

Emo Boy: can't wait

Lance fidgeted nervously at his desk, staring blankly at the front of the class. His laptop and other materials were in his bag, sitting on the floor and leaning on his legs. Stats, figures, formulas, and a myriad of other bits of class material swirled in his brain like a tornado and he hoped that the winds in his head would settle enough for him to grab those bits and put them on the exam.

"You're gonna do fine, Professor," the raspy voice next to him broke into his thoughts.

"I hope so. I always get nervous before tests."

"We were up late studying. You know all the material."

Lance flushed. "We weren't just studying, you distraction."

Keith laughed, his warm and huffy laugh that melted Lance into butter. "I didn't hear you complaining between all those moans."

Lance sent a sidelong glare to his boyfriend, who just returned his look with a lazy smile. "Ass," Lance hissed.

"I did tap that ass, yes."

"I'm tapping yours tonight, then."

"Only if you pass the exam."

"Not fair."

"Motivation," Keith shrugged. He leaned over and planted a kiss on Lance's cheek. "Good luck, baby."

Lance turned back into a gooey lump. "You, too." He shook his finger at Keith. "Don't copy off me," he warned.

"Don't need to," the cocky ass answered. Lance would be irritated, but nothing Keith ever said or did truly irritated him. If he looked it, it was an act. He was completely and whole-heartedly besotted with the other man. The surprising thing was Keith was as besotted with Lance. And, even more surprising, was the most supportive and romantic person in the world. Lance had never felt as treasured as he had the past month and a half they'd been dating.

As he took the test with Keith's steady presence next to him, he smiled to himself. Lance breezed through the questions because, despite the previous evening's distraction, he had a solid hold on the dry and boring subject. This was his last final for the semester and, like the others, he'd ace this. And, get to tap that ass good tonight.

Which, he thought with a frown as he pondered one of the last questions on the exam, was probably the last time for a while. The frown quickly morphed into a little smile, laced with slight anxiety. They were leaving the next day for the four-hour drive to Lance's home to spend winter break. Meeting the family was a big step, though he knew they'd love Keith as much as he did. After Three King's Day, they planned to spend a few days with Keith's family – three hours in the opposite direction – before heading back to school.

He was sure Keith would find ways to 'distract' him despite their family being around.

Lance answered the last questions and sat back in his chair with a sigh. He'd miss sitting here with Keith every Thursday morning. They didn't have a class together next semester. Still, he consoled himself that he'd practically moved into Keith's private dorm, so he did see Keith every morning, not just Thursday. 'And every night,' he added to his thoughts with a little smile and slight blush.

He checked his answers, satisfied they were correct, then gathered his things with a quick murmur to Keith that he'd wait outside. Keith nodded without looking up; he was focused on the sheet in front of him, tapping his pen against his lips. Lance really wanted to be that pen. He chuckled as he made his way down to the front of the room to hand in his exam.

Free! Last exam of his first semester of college! He felt as if a huge weight had lifted. Lance loitered outside the room as he waited, scrolling through his phone to keep himself calm. He knew he'd aced the exam, so he would get to tap Keith's ass tonight, so he did a little victory shimmy in the hall, earning him amused or confused glances from other students. He didn't care.

"How'd you do, Professor?"

Lance looked up from his phone, a smile blossoming on his face. "Ass tapping good, I'd say!"

Keith laughed, reaching to twine his fingers with Lance's once Lance pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against. "Let's grab lunch first. Then you can tap away all you want."

Lance planted a kiss on Keith's cheek. "Deal!"