Welcome to the Family - Chapter 3
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Word Count: 2,151 (Total Word Count: 6,340)
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Story Summary: Lance had been excited about his family taking in a foster kid, eager to get to meet his brand new little brother or sister, who would surely adore and idolize their super cool Big Brother Lance. What he got instead was a sullen, quiet, temperamental teenage housemate with a criminal record and a disastrous haircut.
Lance: hes here. car just pulled into the street
Pidge: Tell him hi from us.
Lance: he doesnt know u
Pidge: So that means we can’t be friendly?
Hunk: what’s he like?
Lance: idk hes not even thru the door yet. text u back soon
Lance shut off the screen of his phone and shoved it into his pocket as he got up to bound down the staircase where he’d been perched on the top step. “Rachel!” he called as he descended. “Keith’s here!”
“You don’t need to yell,” Rachel spoke up from where she’d been lounging across the couch in the front room. She sat up, closing her laptop and setting it aside before she stretched and looked over to where Lance had landed and was now trying to peer into the driveway through the frosted-glass window of the front door. “You spotted him?”
“Yeah, he’s getting out of the car now,” Lance answered, face still pressed to the glass.
“What does he look like?”
“Blurry.”
“Should have guessed. Step back from the door, would you, Lance? You’re gonna freak him out.”
Right as she said it the doorknob began turning, and Lance jumped back, narrowly avoiding being hit in the face by the door as it swung inward to usher in his broadly smiling mother. “Lance, Rach- oh, good, you’re both here,” she said. “You two ready to say hi to your new brother? Come on in, Keith, come meet the family. Well, two of the family.”
She stepped aside to make room for the other figure walking up the front steps, and Lance got his first good look at his new brother.
The first descriptor that crossed Lance’s mind at the sight of Keith was ‘emo’, but that wasn’t quite the right fit. The pale skin and black hair looked to be their natural tones, not makeup or hair dye, and he also didn’t have any jewelry or nail polish or decals on his clothes to indicate that he may have been going for that sort of aesthetic. He just had the colors right, what with the black of his tee shirt and scuffed shoes and jeans that looked to be growing too small on him, and the red of the red zip-up sweatshirt he wore over it even in the middle of August in Arizona.
He did, though, do a great job of pulling off that distinctly emo ‘don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t look in my direction, life is pain’ scowl that he wore across his face - a face which, with its smooth features and bold indigo eyes, could have been good-looking if it weren’t for the thick brown-pink mark slicing through one of his cheeks and the surrounding mane of hair that was so uneven it looked as if it had been cut with gardening shears.
Still, Lance had seen worse, and appearances could be deceiving; this could still be a great, fun guy to have around. So he kept up his smile as he said, “I’m Lance, nice to meetcha.”
Keith nodded silently in greeting, and did the same to Rachel when she introduced herself as well, but didn’t offer his own name in return. “So, uh,” Lance said, “Mamá said that you’re going into sophomore year too, yeah? So the two of us, we’re gonna be classmates as well as brothers. That’ll - that’ll be fun.”
Again Keith was silent, just shrugging in reply, and Lance frowned and turned to his mother. “¿Puede él hablar?” he asked her. Can he talk?
“Sí,” she answered. “Y él no habla español, así que no seas grosero.” Yes, and he doesn’t speak Spanish, so don’t be rude. A glance back toward Keith confirmed this, as his eyes were narrowed and darting back and forth between the two of them, brows bunched in confusion. Lance simply clicked his tongue, settling back with hands on his hips. There was nothing rude about speaking his own language in his own home.
“Now, Keith,” his mother continued, “Do you want me to give you a tour of the house first, or do you want to start unpacking your things?”
“Um, tour’s fine,” Keith mumbled, faint but still loudly enough for Lance to finally get to hear his voice. It was low and just a little raspy, although the rasp may just have been from the low volume.
“Excellent!” his mother said. “I could have Lance or Rachel drop you duffel into your room so you - ”
“No,” Keith said sharply, pulling his bag back and moving to grip the shoulder strap with both hands.
“Suit yourself,” she said with an easy shrug, as if there was nothing even remotely unusual or suspicious about that sort of response. “We’ve got the family room here, and you’re free to use the family Netflix account on the TV as much as you want, and there’s a Nintendo Playstation hooked up to the - ”
“Those are two different things, Mamá,” Rachel interrupted. “And we have an Xbox, which is neither of those.”
“Oh, well, whatever it is, if you want to play video games, you can use that. The dining room’s this way - mind that coat rack, dear, it tips easily, I keep saying that we need to get a new one, maybe hooks on the wall instead or something, just never do get around to it - and through here is the kitchen, I’ll show you where everything goes - ”
She guided Keith through the dining room, initially trying to put a hand on his shoulder to steer him, but simply leading the way touch-free after he grimaced and shrugged the hand off of him. Lance followed, idly pulling his phone from his pocket to see a handful of new texts from Pidge and Hunk asking for more details about Keith. He shot them a quick response.
Lance: hes quiet
He watched as his mother opened and closed drawers and cupboards one after another, showing Keith where they kept the cutlery, bowls, plates, canned goods, cereal, pots and pans, instructing him on what goes where in the fridge and demonstrating which burner on the stove didn’t work, all while Keith maintained that perpetual scowl, answering only with soft grunts, before adding:
Lance: and kinda grouchy
He shut his phone’s screen off and tagged along as his mother and Keith moved on to the home office and bathroom and then downstairs to the basement, waiting until the tour had made its way to the laundry room and his mother began explaining how their washer and dryer worked before looking at Pidge and Hunk’s two very different replies.
Pidge: Of course he’s grouchy, he just discovered he’s going to be living with YOU.
Hunk: He’s probably just nervous.
Lance made a face and texted back.
Lance: im a DELIGHT to live with jsyk. & hes def giving off sort of an emo vibe
Pidge: How emo?
Lance: what do u mean
Pidge: On a scale of 1-10.
Lance: u cant quantify emo
He nearly didn’t notice the laundry crash course wrapping up and his mother and Keith heading out the door of the laundry room, so he saved the texting for later and hastened to follow as they started upstairs toward the bedroom.
His mother didn’t give a thorough tour of the rooms, to Lance’s relief, just quick peeks inside and naming which room belonged to whom. “Excuse the mess,” she said when she opened Lance’s door. “I swear, mijo, you have more clothes on your floor than you wear in a year.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. Honestly, his mother had once seen Pidge’s room when the Holts had had the McClains over for dinner; she should have forfeited all rights to complain about messes on that fateful night.
“And here’s your bedroom, Keith,” his mother said, reaching the door at the end of the hall and opening it to reveal the skeleton of Luis and Marco’s former room, now empty with bare surfaces on the dresser and desk and bookshelf from their long lack of occupancy. “Once you’re settled in we can do a bit of decorating to help it feel more homey, if you’d like. I mentioned that shopping trip we could take sometime soon, get some new things for you?” She glanced toward Keith’s duffel bag before asking, “Does this room work all right for you? You need anything?”
“I’m fine,” Keith said softly.
“That’s good, that’s good. Well, now that you’ve got the lay of the land, I’m going to get dinner started up. Veronica should be coming home any minute, and Manuel will definitely be home for dinner, so I’ll make sure they stop and stay hello when they show up. Lance, be a lamb and help Keith get his stuff unpacked and in their places, would you?”
“Sure, Mamá,” Lance replied as his mother sidled out the room. “There more bags in the car for me to bring in, or - ?”
“No, just the one.” Lance raised a brow, about to ask why Keith would need help unpacking just one bag, but his mother leaned in to whisper, “Talk to him, okay? Just make him feel welcome.”
That made more sense. Lance eased his way into the room as his mother left. Keith had already set his bag onto the bed and was removing a little stack of shirts from it. “You, uh, need any help with that?” Lance asked.
Keith scowled over at him. Which was fair; that stack of shirts probably weighed two pounds at most. “Ah, I just meant, you know where that stuff goes?”
“... The dresser?”
“Yeah. You - you got this, sorry.” Lance rocked on his heels as Keith moved toward the dresser, the latter still eyeing him cautiously. “So, uh,” Lance tried again, “Where you from?”
“Around,” Keith answered with a shrug.
Right. Foster kid. Probably moved around a lot. He was on a roll with stupid questions. “Well, uh, where are you from, like, most recently? Before here?”
Keith paused, frozen halfway through setting his clothes down in a dresser drawer, and it was several seconds before he quietly answered, “Holbrook.”
“Don’t think I’ve heard of it,” Lance said. “You like it there?”
This time Keith didn’t answer at all, instead simply slamming the dresser drawer shut and moving back to his bag. He fished into it and pulled out a toothbrush and comb. “Where’s the bathroom again?” he asked.
“Second door on the left,” Lance answered, and Keith turned to leave the room without so much as glancing at Lance.
Lance simply rolled his eyes and strolled over to the bed, where he sat and glance into the open duffle bag. He nudged a gray sweatshirt aside to see a number of balled-up pairs of socks and boxers, a faded stuffed hippopotamus, and a few CDs in cases scattered across the bottom of the bag. He tilted his head to look at the titles. John Mellencamp, The Clash, Blue Cheer, a Chuck Barry CD with a spiderweb of cracks across the plastic case. Lance picked up ‘Janis Joplin’s Greatest Hits’, examining the remains of the garage sale sticker still covering the singer’s face. “So you’re into the old-timey, rock, huh? Funny, I would have pegged you more for MCR or Linkin Park or - ”
He hadn’t noticed Keith’s footsteps thundering down the hall until the other boy was already in the room, practically shoving Lance off the bed and yanking the bag back toward him. “Hey!” Lance yelped, grabbing onto the bedpost to keep from slipping onto the floor.
“Why were you going through my stuff?” Keith snarled, pulling the bag back further.
“Wha- I dunno, I was just, you know, seeing if you had, like - like, any interests or anything, that’s all. Calm down, man.”
That was probably the wrong thing to say, because Keith’s glare just darkened further. “Don’t touch my stuff,” he growled.
“I’m sorry. Is it, uh, is it because of the hippo? You don’t have to be embarrassed, I sleep with a stuffed animal too, lots of people do.”
Keith huffed and turned away from him. “I can unpack by myself. You can leave.”
“Are you… are you sure you don’t wanna, like, hang out, chat a bit?”
The scowl that Keith leveled in his direction was as firm a ‘no’ as humanly possible. So Lance sheepishly straightened up and headed out of the room, Keith shutting the door firmly behind him.
With a sigh, Lance pulled his phone back out, turning the screen on to see that Pidge had proposed an essay’s worth of criteria to quantify emo onto a ten-point scale. Ignoring that for now, Lance started to text.
Lance: hey hunk remember when u said keith was gonna be a cool friendly guy who will love hanging out with me?
Hunk: yeah? why?
Lance: guess what, im starting to think u were wrong
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all of them
D oh my fucking Gog
John Egbert: the time I was like nine and I hooked the chair out from under my sis when she sat down probably, I suck at pranks
Dave Strider: A car, a torch, a death and march to the sea by TØP and Bastille’s cover of basket case
Rose Lalonde: What’s your MBTI type? I. Don’t remember.
Jade Harley: What’s your favorite celestial body? PILLARS OF CREATION I LOVE TEM SO MUCH
Jane Crocker: How good do you consider yourself to be at baking? keep me away from the fucking oven
Dirk Strider: What technological advancements are you hoping to be accomplished in the future? can I just learn enough about programming to know why my tumblr looks like it does p l e a s e
Roxy Lalonde: What’s your favorite retro game? LoZ ocharina of time. Or pacman. Or pole position.
Jake English: What’s the last action movie you saw? uh…..hellboy ? Idk
Aradia Megido: Name your favorite historical site/sites. The Cahokia mounds in st Louis, they’re so big? You can see for literal miles from the top.
Tavros Nitram: Do you like collecting? If so, what do you collect? Hahaha….smuppets. Bones. Coins. Everything I can get my grubbly lil hands on, I’m basically a crow.
Sollux Captor:How sarcastic are you on a daily basis? potato
Karkat Vantas: What’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever witnessed? my friend joy and my other friend adyn when they were still dating
Nepeta Leijon: Do you consider yourself a cat-person? yes but please remember I’m also a dog person
Kanaya Maryam: What’s your ideal look when in comes to fashion? …on me? clothes.
Terezi Pyrope: What’s the weirdest craving you’ve ever gotten? does the time I ate a full jar of pickled jalapeños when I was like two count
Vriska Serket: Do you believe in luck and fortune? yeah definitely
Equius Zahhak: Do you consider yourself physically and/or mentally stong? I can pick up an 140-pound person but don’t ask me to perform social interactions or get yelled at rip
Gamzee Makara: Do you prefer comedy or tragedy? yes
Eridan Ampora:Magic or science? hahahaha give me a world where there’s both. Like piers Anthony’s incarnations of immortality series.
Feferi Peixes: Favorite sea creature? MANTIS SHRIMP THEY CAN SEE LIKE TEM EXTRA COLORS AND PUNCH THROUGH GLASS and I’ll probably never see one in person since they break aquariums
Damara Megido: Do you consider yourself a vengeful person? ….uh. Not really but it’d depend.
Rufioh Nitram: If you could dye your hair any color, what would it be? deep blue
Mituna Captor: On a scale of 0-10 how would you rate your skateboarding? oh god I fall but 3 because I keep trying. Although last time someone tried to teach me I fell off, bruised my hip, the skateboard flew off at a tangent amd broke a pipe and I’m just lying on the garage floor laughing hysterically as water slowly floods the area and Brandon tries to shut it off.
Kankri Vantas: Are you prone to going off in lengthy rants? uh I want to but then I remember that I suck amd I don’t have enough friends to alienate people by ranting so yeah
Meulin Leijon: Approximately how long are you on the internet everyday? too many
Porrim Maryam: Your stance on feminism? …I am a feminist? I think?
Latula Pyrope: Favorite outdated slang word? all I can think of is “fuc” because mom’s watching deadwood and that’s literally every third word out of everyone’s mouth but. Groovy? All the old words for gay and lesbian? I don’t know
Aranea Serket: What’s your all-time favorite book? The entire dark tower series by Stephen king, which can new extended to include almost all Stephen king books written.
Horuss Zahhak: Opinion on horses? they,,, lorge :2
Kurloz Makara: Would you give up your voice for telepathy? On the one hand my voice sucks but on the other hand telepathy is a vague term I’d need more specifics
Cronus Ampora: Your favorite thing about the 50s? the fact that they’re nothing like happy days depicts them as and also pulp era sci fi
Meenah Peixes: Favorite fish-pun? shell phone
Caliborn: Any old pieces of fanworks you could share? if I get one (1) ask aboutbtjis I’ll GI through my deviantart and post anything presentable here
Calliope: Do you consider yourself to be an optimistic person? its complicated but on good things no amd bad things yes. Like I assume that the thing won’t happen.
Lord English: How far would you go to achieve your goals? ?? ????? ?????
Lil Cal: Do people consider you creepy or intimidating? probably yeah I’m weird as fucl
The Midnight Crew: Do you prefer brains or brawn? a blend of both fuck you
The Felt: If you could have one ability, what would it be? teleportation of a singular object or person from where it is to where I want it to be. Useful for getting my moirail where they belong.
Dad Egbert/Crocker: Would you wear a fedora? do u know how long I’ve been trying to get one fuck yeah I would
Bro: Favorite bro pun? Bromeo, bromeo, why the fuck are you bromeo
Mom Lalonde: Do you have any regrets? …yeah…lots.
Davesprite: Have you ever felt inadequate? have I ever in
Lil Hal: Favorite meme? I lik the bred
Davepetasprite^2: Nya? owo what’s this??
Jasprosesprite^2: Favorite color combination? Pfffft blue and olive, black and royal blue, red and grey
Arquiusprite: How helpful do you try and be to others? as much as I possibly can please let me be of some use
Erisolsprite: Are you called moody on a regular basis? ….by. some people.
Carapacians: Do you play chess? If so, do you usually play with the white or black chess pieces? no one will play with me :0( but I’ll take either
Doc Scratch: Ever ‘predicted’ the future? Okay so. There’s a book called…okay I don’t remember what it’s called. Something about a witch king, it’s by mark Anthony amd is in the harpers series of the forgotten realms series. In the emd they leave a character in the collapsing treasure room. Effectively killing him. I loved this guy okay? I wasn’t about to accept that shit. So I went “fuck you mark Anthony” and mentally composed an arc where he found a magic item and escaped. Turns out there was a second book and that’s literally what he did
Ancestors: What’s the kind of mark you want to leave behind you. just let me make someone hapoy
Hussie: Your zodiac sign and/or god tier? Virgo/leo and knight of heart.
goddamnit its done. Its done. D I love you but what the fuck.
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