Dirty Laundry by Gibslythe

Day 0 Ch. 2

Thursday, December 15th

2:54 P.M.

"Jesus, how much shit are you even bringing?"

Lance poked his head out from behind the car's trunk, now filled to the very brim with both their luggage. "It's two weeks, Keith. I'm being smart about this."

Keith scowled. "You're never smart about anything. "

Lance's head had disappeared back behind the trunk to continue his ridiculous luggage organization, but not before he flipped Keith the bird.

The car was small and old as shit, a nasty Corolla from 1987. Lance had defended her proudly, calling the car his 'Little Lady'. Obviously Lance knew nothing about cars, the thing was an ugly sight. Three dents, several scratches, and an ugly shade of beige. Keith couldn't believe they'd be driving the thing all the way to Arizona.

Nineteen hours with Lance. Nineteen terrible, long, ridiculous hours. That was one thousand, one hundred and forty minutes of dealing with Lance's obnoxious music taste. That would also include off key singing, bathroom pit stops every other hour, and the decision to eat at McDonalds for every single meal. Keith was close to death, he could feel it.

"I thought the driver was supposed to pick the music," Keith mentioned when they switched positions at a pit stop near the edge of the Oregon border. They'd been driving since three, and Keith was ready to listen to anything other than Beyonce, Kesha, or Nicki Minaj. Why hadn't he brought headphones?

"Nope," Lance answered in response, popping the 'p'. He hopped into the passenger seat and began to lean his seat back. "Owner of the car chooses the music. And that's me, I'm the owner."

"Well, that rule is bullshit."

Keith didn't protest much else, hoping that Lance would fall asleep so he could steal the aux cord from his phone.

His plan worked well, driving for five hours had truly worn Lance out. After Keith listened to Beyonce's 'Halo' for the fourth time that trip, Lance was out cold. He slobbered onto the pillow that lay smooshed between the car window and his head, soft snores vibrating from his lips.

For another hour and a half Keith drove, happily content with Lance's soft snoring and his preferred music at low volume.

"Mm.." Lance mumbled into his pillow, wiping at the dried saliva that had stuck to his chin. "What time is it?"

Keith sighed, realizing his happy peace was over now that Lance was awake. "Check the clock."

Lance peered over at the analog clock. 9:39 P.M. He wiped at his eyes like a baby and became accustomed to his surroundings, until Keith noticed him scrunch his nose up in disgust.

"What?" Keith questioned, referring to the look of revulsion.

"Are you listening to Depeche Mode?!" Lance muttered, sitting up straighter in his seat, now fully awake. "Like, unironically?"

"Yeah? So?"

Lance snorted. "That's fucking cringey. Depeche Mode is emo '80s music."

"And your music taste isn't cringey?" Keith scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You listen to Beyonce. What are you, a mom in her late thirties?"

Lance gasped as if Keith had muttered sacrilege. "Beyonce is a wonderful gift to mankind! How can you not think so?"

"Oh my God," Keith groaned, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "You're so gay ."

"What!? You're the gay one. I'm bisexual!"

Keith opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't think of any words to say. Lance was technically right on that one.