#WHIPPED I tell u | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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“Oh, I love spring.” Lance’s voice is soft, breathy, sighing. He veers off the path, heading towards one of the campus’ many gardens. “Everything’s just so hopeful, y’know? And the hills — they get coated in little springs of gold. It’s beautiful.”

“It snowed yesterday,” Keith deadpans, but joins Lance in looking at the blooming flowers anyway.

Lance rolls his dark eyes at him fondly. “For, like, twenty seconds!”

“Snow, Lance. In April. Disgusting.”

“Yeah, yeah, party pooper.” He leans in close to a yellow pansy, inhaling deeply. The slightest of smiles pulls at his lips, long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes close in serenity. Freckles sprinkle over his nose and cheekbones, darker now that the sun is starting to shine brighter.

Keith has to shake himself out of staring like a fool. Even then it’s no easy feat — Lance is ethereal, in the spring sunshine, surrounded by budding flowers and melting snow.

Keith clears his throat, ears a little red. “I thought you were more of a summer person,” he says, a little loudly, a little telling.

“I do love the summer, Lance agrees, inhaling one more time before straightening up. He turns the full power of his smile towards Keith — Lord help him — and takes a step away from the garden. “But there’s just something about the flowers, I guess. Something about so many colours finally blooming after the endless grey of winter, y’know?”

Keith snorts. “Right, Shakespeare.”

“I’m going to take that as the compliment it is, you butthead. Ready to head out?”

“Yeah.” Keith pauses, glancing back at the flowers. He thinks of Lance’s soft look as he smelled them. He thinks of how badly he wants to see Lance look like that again. “Why don’t you bring a couple flowers back to your dorm?”

Lance glances back at the flowers. For a minute Keith thinks he’s going to pick a couple, but then he’s shaking his head. “Nah.” He chuckles a little, scratching the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “It’s stupid, but I get genuinely upset when flowers die? I used to pick them all the time as a kid and then cry when they started to droop. I never really grew out of it, I guess. Embarrassing, huh?”

Oh my God, that is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Keith thinks, screaming internally.

“A little,” Keith teases instead. Lance gasps exaggeratedly, clasping his hand to his heart in mock offense.

“Why, I never!”

The two of them joke and tease their way to the dining hall, only getting worse as they meet up with the rest of their friends. They devolve into ridiculous chaos almost immediately, as they usually do — Pidge barely catches sight of Lance before she starts some ridiculous argument over the dorky video game they’re both obsessed with, and then the rest of them choose sides just for the drama of it all — but honestly? Keith’s heart’s not in it. All he can think of is Lance’s slight smile as he smelled the flower, and the barest hint of sadness Keith saw flash through his dark brown eyes when he stepped away from them.

Keith is going to get Lance his flowers, and flowers that won’t die on him. He will.

Anything to get that smile on his face again.

———

“Keith, it’s four in the goddamn morning.”

“Allura if you help me I’ll get you those caf cookies you like every day for a month.”

That gives her pause. “The coffee caramel one? That’s always gone before I get up?”

“Yep,” Keith says, grinning despite his frustration. Got her. Allura would do anything short of human sacrifice to get those cookies.

“…Make it two months.”

“What?” Keith protests immediately. “That’s sixty whole days!”

“I’m getting more and more tired by the second, Gyeong.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus. You’ll get your cookie, you tyrant.”

She hums. There’s a creaking noise in the background, like she’s shuffling around, then the unmistakable sound of a thump and muffled cursing.

Keith shoves his knuckles into his mouth to keep from cackling. “Did you fall, you dumbass?”

“Fuck off. Mention it again and the deal is off.”

“Alright, alright,” Keith says,holding up his hands in surrender even though she can’t see it. (One can never be too sure with Allura. Sometimes it’s like she’s a fuckin’ witch, or something. She knows all.)

“Anyways, dorkus. Why’d you call me in the dead of the fucking night?”

Keith sobers quickly, frustration building back up when he catches a glance at his supplies. He takes a deep breath. “So, you know how you’re an art major?”

There’s a beat of incredulous silence. Keith can feel her judgey look through the phone.

“No, that’s news to me, actually. Must have missed that memo on my way to class this morning.”

“Oh, piss off. You know what I meant.”

She snorts, but answers anyway. “Yes, Keith. I am aware that I’m an art major. I take it to mean you need some artistic advice?”

“Yeah,” Keith confirms. He holds up one of the canvases he’s been working on, frowning deeply. “So, I have this…project. I need to paint a really, really good — almost perfect, honestly — picture of a flower. No, a bouquet of flowers. Yeah. And —”

“You,” Allura interrupts slowly, “a physics major.”

There’s a long moment of silence — incredulous on Allura’s end, panicked on Keith’s.

“You need to paint a flower? For a grade?”

“I’m…applying the physical sciences of viscous fluids acting upon a dry powdered surface such as canvas,” Keith lies hastily. “Yeah. Lots of science in painting, you know.”

That’s a pretty decent excuse, if Keith says so himself. And he does! He’s found that if he just throws out enough science words into one sentence, and uses the words ‘acting upon’ at least once, then people usually just go along with it. It has yet to fail on him before, at least.

“This is about Lance, isn’t it.”

Of fucking course Allura’s annoyingly smart ass can see right through him.

Keith scoffs. And then he scoffs again, and again, and every time it sounds just a touch more hysterical. “Ha! I don’t — ha! How ridiculous! Me, painting a picture of a flower for Lance, because he gets sad when cut flowers die! I would never — preposterous! Outlandish! Unbelievable, even! I —”

“You just let me know when you’re done,” Allura drawls.

Keith sputters. “I — you! What!”

“Look,” she says, faux-gently. “Please take full offense to this.”

“I probably will,” Keith grumbles. Allura has no problem plowing right on.

“There is not a soul on this campus who isn’t well aware that you are atrociously down bad for Lance.”

“I — yes there is! That’s fuckin’ — private information! How do you know that?!”

“You look at him like he’s the sun, dude. It’s as sweet as it is sickening, truly.”

Keith wants to fight that. He does. He’s kept his feelings for Lance under lock and key, thanks. Allura is talking out of her ass.

But then he looks down at his canvas and half-finished painting, and —

Oh.

Well.

“…Okay,” Keith admits, cheeks flaming. “So I get a little moon-eyed occasionally. Can you blame me?”

Allura chuckles. “No. Lance is cute as hell. You’re lucky I’m a lesbian or you would have some serious competition with that boy, let me tell you.”

“Thank Thor for that, then.”

“Damn right. Anyway. Details, Horatio. You’re painting him a flower?”

Keith sighs. He knows it’s incriminating as hell, but he truly can’t help himself. “Yeah. We were looking at flowers a couple days ago, and he was just so happy to see them, y’know? I suggested he should bring a couple back to his dorm but he said he got sad when they died, so. I’m painting him some that won’t die.”

“That is the gayest damn thing I’ve ever heard.”

Keith flushes. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. Can you help me or not?”

“Well, I won’t be painting it for you.”

“I know that! I just — I don’t know what I’m doing, ‘Llura. How the hell do I shape it right? What’s the deal with shading? How come half the colours look smudgy and brush hairs keep getting stuck in the paint? What —”

“Alright, deep breath,” Allura interjects. Keith listens. “Good.” Her voice softens. “He’s gonna love it, y’know? He loves you just as much as you love him — and don’t give me that ‘what if he doesn’t like me back’ shit,” she scolds, before he can protest. “Okay? He’s one of your closest friends. He’s going to appreciate the gesture regardless.”

“I know,” Keith says, exhaling deeply. “I know. But still. Help me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you.”

———

Keith takes a deep breath, glancing down at the gift bag he’s holding. It’s not too late, really. He can ding dong ditch. That way Lance can get the painting — and the stupid sappy letter Keith wrote him — and Keith can avoid the whole mortifying ordeal of being known or whatever.

Yeah. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. He can confess his undying love another time, right? Lance doesn’t need to know now. Keith can suffer in silence. He’s gone this far —

“Keith! Hi! I tried to wait for you to know but you took too long. Come in!”

Lance beams at him, dorm room door opened wide, stepping to the side to usher Keith in.

Curse him and his stupid bat ears. Of course he heard Keith’s heartbeat through the door, or something.

“Hey, Lance.” He accepts Lance hug, squeezing tightly and inhaling smell of sunscreen and lavender.

The smell makes him brave, makes him bold.

“I, uh, I brought you something.”

Lance’s grin only gets wider. “I was hoping that was for me.” He makes grabby hands towards the bag. “Gimme!”

It will be fine, it will be fine, it will be fine, Keith chants to himself as Lance tosses the decorative paper — ‘decorative paper’ being old homework because Keith has no idea where the hell he’s supposed to buy fancy gift paper — behind him, digging into the bag. He stills as he pulls out the canvas. He’s absolutely silent as he looks at it, face completely blank.

Keith cracks.

“I know it’s kind of ugly. I mean, I tried, and Allura tried to help, but I’m kind of a hopeless painter —”

Lance still makes no face, long fingers just tracing the bulky painting.

“— I tried to use your favourite colours! The blue and the red and the purple —”

Lance makes a choked noise. Keith can’t tell if it’s good or not; and it makes him a great deal more frantic.

“—peonies are your favourite, right? And you like dandelions too so I thought —”

“Keith,” Lance finally says, hoarse and quiet. “I —”

“There’s a letter, too, and — oh.” The letter is clasped tightly in Lance’s hand. “You’ve already read it. Cool. Awesome. It’s —”

“Keith —”

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal, right? I mean —”

“Keith —”

Keith forces himself to breathe properly. He is not successful. He’s not quite hyperventilating, but by God he is on his way.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll just dip and you text me whenever —”

“Keith!” Lance shouts. “I’m going to kiss you now. On the mouth.”

By the time that sentence registers in Keith’s brain, sunshine and lavender overwhelms his senses, soft, smooth lips pressed insistently to his. Lance’s cool fingers press the sides of his neck, a gentle but insistent pressure.

“Oh,” Keith breathes.

“I love you too, dumbass,” Lance whispers against his lips. “God I love you.“

“That’s — okay.”

He feels Lance’s smile.

Because it is pressed. Against his lips.

Holy shit.

“That’s okay?“ “Yeah. Yeah. I — love you too. Lots.”

Lance laughs. “Enough to hand paint me flowers that will never die.” He presses another kiss to Keith’s lips.

It feels like springtime.

———

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