The Bad Bad World [Klance AU] [DISCONTINUED]

Five

A/N: Warning for slight sexual content. It also might help if you go back and reread the end of the previous chapter, since it's been a while.
"Can you sleep with me tonight?"
     "Um..."  Lance wipes the tears from his eyes.  He smiles nervously.  "...Yeah.  Uh, yeah, sure."  He stumbles over to Keith awkwardly, not quite sure what he's getting himself into.  It's all happening kinda fast, but he's too tired to care anymore.  He's surprised when Keith grabs his hand and tugs him into his room.  Lance tries to keep in the jumbles of words spinning through his head right now as he looks around Keith's room.  In it is nothing but a nightstand, adorned with its alarm clock and framed family photos, and the bed itself.  Keith pulls back the covers and climbs in, shooting Lance a harsh but almost pleading look that tells him to do so as well.  
     Lance gets in on the other side of the bed.  Though it's big, it's a little crammed for space between Keith and Lance.  Lance looks at Keith, who is looking away, biting his lip and his brow furrowed.  Refusing to look at Lance, he scoots closer and nuzzles against the chest of the Latino.  Lance stiffens up, but he can't say he hasn't missed that warmth.  It's when he feels Keith's hot lips sucking on his neck that things get weird.  "Keith?!" Lance yelps, his voice high and near soundless.
     Keith breathes out against Lance's neck in acknowledgement, nose tickling his skin. 
     Lance moans softly in submission, moving his hands to Keith's hair.  "What is all this about...?"
     "Just hold me..." Keith murmurs.  Lance sucks in a breath at the response.  He entangles his hands in Keith's soft, black hair.  Keith buries his face in the crook of Lance's neck and tenderly kisses the skin, and Lance tugs on his hair lightly.  Keith looks up at Lance through half-lidded eyes.  The Latino gulps at the sight, Keith's pale face flushed to a pretty pink, his dark eyes glossed over, his bottom lip between his teeth.  Something feels warm in Lance's chest.  He moves his hands down to Keith's neck, caressing him as he leans in and locks him in a kiss.  He isn't sure what's come over him, but Keith sure doesn't seem to mind.  The raven haired man presses his lips into it passionately.  Lance probes his tongue into Keith's mouth.  Keith welcomes the movement, and Lance uses the opportunity to flip Keith onto his back and hover above him.  His dark, raven-like hair splays out on all sides of him.  Lance runs his hands up the back of Keith's head and tugs, tongue immediately back in his mouth.  Their lips smack together disgustingly until they have to part for air.  Each take heavy breaths that leaves the room feeling hot.  Lance leans in to run kisses over the crook of the other's neck.  Keith runs his hands over Lance's chest, slender hands sliding under his shirt and touching the warm skin beneath.  "Mm...Lance..."

     Keith wakes up slowly the next morning.  He shifts slightly, then becoming aware of the warm presence beside him.  His eyes go wide and he flinches in place, feeling against him what must be Lance's arms around his waist.  The Latino, apparently a light sleeper, shifts around when he feels Keith stir.  "Keith...?  What's wrong?" he mumbles.
     Keith sits in silence, a grimace on his flushed face.  Still just waking up, he can hardly remember the details of the previous night.  "What happened last night...?"
     Lance nuzzles his face against Keith's back.  "Fuckin' make out session of a lifetime."
     Keith grunts, his cheeks burning.  He tries to scoot away from Lance, who only tightens his grip.
     "Don't leave, you're too warm."
     "I'm hungry," Keith hisses bluntly.  He detaches Lance's hands from himself and crawls his way to freedom, drawing a whine out from the other.  Keith rolls his eyes, stepping out of bed.  "I'll make something for you, too, you big baby."
     Lance smiles into his pillow.  "You're gonna make a great wife."  Keith growls and snatches up a pillow to chuck at Lance.  The Latino whimpers over dramatically, tossing the pillow away from himself.  Keith ignores him and walks out to the kitchen.
     Keith quickly whips up some pancakes, transferring them from pan to plate and setting them down on his little dining table.  He walks back to his bedroom to fetch Lance.  He's already managed to fall back asleep, smiling blissfully.  Keith wants to be mad at him, maybe a side effect of the anxiety caused by what he may have started last night.  Instead, he can't help but to smile gently to himself.  Keith shakes his head.  He sits on the side of the bed and shakes Lance by his shoulders.  "Wake up already."  Lance hardly stirs.  "I made pancakes, you ungrateful-"
     Lance sits straight up, surprising Keith.  "Pancakes?!"  He scrambles out of the bed.  Keith scowls against an oncoming laugh, following Lance back into the kitchen at a much slower pace.  In the two seconds it takes for Keith to get there, Lance has already scoffed down half of his pancakes.
     Keith sits across from him with a sigh.  "Careful.  You're going to choke."  And then under his breath, "This is the most I've ever seen you move."
     Lance swallows thickly on half a pancake before snapping childishly, "What was that last bit?"
     Keith smirks playfully.  "I said you sure do like my cooking."
     "Mhm," Lance hums suspiciously.  Lance continues to clean his plate, Keith relishing the short lived silence.  "So..." Lance starts again, plate cleared, "Were we, uh, going to talk about last night?"  He asks the question weighing heavy in the air.  Lance looks at Keith through peripheral vision, gauging out his reaction nervously. 
     Keith's mouth twists into a distasteful frown, face lighting up like a stop light.  He looks away.  "Wh-What is there to talk about?" he stutters out stupidly.
     "Keith," Lance begins in an uncomfortably serious, almost fatherly, tone.  "I need to know.  What all that meant."  Keith shifts around in his seat, refusing to look at him.  "Unless you're just embarrassed.  I can assure you, it was very hot.  Does that make you feel better?"
     Keith half-growls, wishing he had another pillow to throw at Lance.  He looks up at Lance to glare at him, saying nothing, until the tension becomes too much again.  The silence does not help.  "Um..."
     "Um...?" Lance repeats questioningly, trying to draw the words out of Keith.
     "I don't..." Keith begins, looking at his hands, which have found their way to his lap.  Lance's stare burns into his skin.  "What do you want me to say...?"
     "The truth," he replies sharply.
     Keith fidgets with his hand, the blood not leaving his cheeks.  He shoots a glare at Lance, suddenly raising his voice.  "Nothing!  It meant nothing!"
     Lance's lips drop into a deep frown, a million negative thoughts invading his mind at once.  He told himself he was hoping that Keith would say that, so that he wouldn't have to worry about hurting him or being hurt.  His last experience was a damaging one.  But even so, it hurts to just hear that.  Lance wanted to feel something more, and he wanted Keith to feel it, too...It's all dumb, anyway. 
     Keith's eyebrows raise in worry, getting a good look at the other's crestfallen expression.  He looks distraughtly back at his lap, clenching his hands into fists.  "Dammit..."   He bites down on his lip, and hard.  The silence, the tension, they itch at his skin.  The feeling crawls over him like centipedes casting his arms and long legged spiders hiking up his back.  "I'm sorry, I-"
     "No, it's okay," Lance intercepts.  Keith looks up at him in surprise, noticing the Latino's tan arms folded over his chest and his blue eyes trained on his lap.  "I'm...glad you told the truth." 
     Keith lowers his gaze dejectedly, looking down at his plate.  His pancake had gone untouched.  He mimics Lance's pose, crossing his arms around himself.  "Did you want my food...?"
     Lance sighs, pushing himself out of his chair.  "No, thanks; I'm full."  He grabs his own plate and drops it in the sink.  He then goes to sit on Keith's plain couch, switching the television on to watch the History Channel programs.  Another episode on the modern alien theories.
     Keith muffles his own sigh and stands up, leaving his full plate behind.  He might walk by and eat it later.  He plops down next to Lance on the couch.  Keith studies the Latino's profile, dazed blue eyes focused lazily on the television screen.  He doesn't know what to say, but he wants to say something.  "Lance?"
     He turns to look at him.  "Keith?"
     He looks deep into the other's blue eyes, devoid of all life and energy.  It seems so wrong.  Lance isn't supposed to be like this.  "What can I do?" he breathes out.
     Lance's eyes widen a bit in surprise, blinking deeply.  Keith finds too much happiness in just that little movement that seems so Lance.  Said man pauses a moment in search of a good answer.  "You're fine just like that," he decides simply, turning back to his show.
     Keith's face scrunches up in confusion, looking at Lance for a clearer response.  He's too focused on the show.  Keith comes to the conclusion that Lance meant for him to just sit beside him on the couch.  He can do that.  Keith gets comfy, staring at the television, though his mind generates enough thoughts per second to block it out.  It's just nice to be in someone's company, despite the subtle mutual awkwardness.
     Evening approaches quickly, especially for Keith, who managed to fall asleep on the old couch.  His long, black eyelashes tickle his pink cheeks.  His dark brows are knitted together, as though he's experiencing a bad dream.  His soft, pink lips are just slightly ajar.  Lance looks over at him longingly.  He wants him to be happy, and he wants to be happy with him.  He wonders what that kind of thing even feels like.
     Keith stirs slightly, groaning as he sits up straight and rubs his eyes.  Lance moves back.  Keith yawns, looking at the other through glossy eyes.  "What?"
     "You looked like you were having a bad dream," Lance states, watching Keith's face. 
     The raven haired man purses his lips, looking to the side.  "It was...nothing.  There's just a lot going on."  With a sigh, he pushes himself up on wobbly feet and walks to the kitchen.  The oven clock displays the evening time.  Keith opens up his refrigerator, greeted by near emptiness. "I need to go to the store," he mutters under his breath. It was that time of week. Louder, he asks Lance if he wants to come with. Later, he could only justify this by claiming he was still asleep.
"Me? Do I want to come to the store with you? You're asking me?" Lance sounds like an excited puppy who's about to be taken to the doggy park. Keith glares at him, as if warning Lance not to make him take back the offer. He hasn't moved from Keith's apartment in, what, a week? He can't see why not. "Of course!"
     With that, the two take a walk out to the market.  Luckily, it's only a few blocks away from Keith's apartment building, and the rain had even let up.  They walk silently, both men checking each other out through peripheral vision.  As they get closer, Keith ends the silence by coughing into his fist.  "So, let's go over the things we need."
     "You're asking me?" Lance asks.
     Keith shrugs awkwardly.  "I'm just kind of gathering my thoughts.  What kind of stuff do you eat, anyway?  I know we need milk.  You probably ate most of my cereal stock.  Some stuff to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches would be nice.  Anything else?"
     Lance smiles.  "I'll know when we see it."
Only a few minutes into their trip, Keith is pushing around a cart with his milk and cereal, trying to keep up with Lance as he races through the isles like a child. In go some Cosmic Brownies, Swiss Rolls, Oreos, Goldfish...all very necessary things, Lance says. Keith sighs, though it comes out more adoringly, as a parent to their babe. If Lance is going to keep smiling like this, he'll buy all this gross junk food. The Latino gasps suddenly, causing Keith to stop in his tracks in shock. He looks at Lance with worry. "Keith!" he shrieks. "We need frozen pizzas! That's what we've been missing!" Keith stares at him blankly before keeling over in laughter. Lance's smile grows ever brighter.
They walk back home with their groceries, Keith forcing Lance to hold onto the surplus of food he had picked out. Lance tries to play it off like it's nothing, but his arms are shaking a little.  They toss the groceries onto the kitchen counter, and Lance immediately crashes on the couch, complaining about his arms.  Keith rolls his eyes with a huff, starting to put the food away.
Lance turns the television on and starts flipping through the channels, looking for some variety. Something on the news catches his attention. He leans forward in his seat. "Um..." Worry laces his voice. "Keith, you're going to want to see this."
"What is it?" Keith half hisses, stepping out of the kitchen. His eyes land on the news reporter and the footage beside his head.
"This just in. Suspect Lance McClain, believed to be guilty of thieving vodka and consuming such underage, was caught in a local grocery store on security films alongside another unknown suspect appearing in the footage above." He continues on about the finer details of things.
Shit, this is why Lance shouldn't have left the house. Shit, this is why Keith can't be seen with him. Shit, how could he have let this happen? "Shit."

A/N: Tsk, tsk, these boys are always getting themselves in trouble. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, I kind of imagined Keith wearing a beanie in their little outing scene here. I don't know why. I just have some sort of weakness for cuties in beanies. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. I actually changed a LOT, because I had this chapter and the next written a while back, but I ended up scrapping most of it. I'll probably use a lot of it in the coming chapter, but I felt the need to slow this down just a bit and give Lance and Keith a more bond-y sort of chapter. Tell me what you think!  How did I do with characterization, story speed, anything?  Thanks for stopping by!  ;)