Work Text:
“Iii” = speech
Iii = thought
----
Though he was typing at a moderate speed and his corner of the bullpen was pretty quiet for once, Keith still felt his bad mood was souring little by little no thanks to the noisiest detective he’d ever met. How the hell Lance McClain had ever gotten promoted up from patrol was a question Keith asked often, usually to himself as inquiring other people about it didn’t always get him a straight answer. Most of them had to be the tall tales Lance told everyone about his exploits, and yet there had to be some kind of redeeming quality to the skinny Latino if he had a gold badge.
He would simply be glad to go home on time for once, all the times he’d bucked for paid overtime hopefully worth it once he could attend his standing appointment. One he intended to keep, the bad luck that was his coworker be damned.
His timing couldn’t possibly be at a worse time for his new precinct, either: there was a new captain too, a Takashi Shirogane who was supposed to be a big deal in the city but as a newcomer, Keith had to do the research himself. Learning the man was married happily to an Adam Wolanski at the university had been interesting, and very new-age if Shirogane not only still had his job with no real issues but a promotion to boot. His prosthetic arm looked to be a marvel and rather expensive, though Keith was far too polite and nervous about bridging the gap to even look at it.
Times like that were when he cursed his knowledge of engineering and missed chances, by and large happy that he had a decent job either way. At least being a cop paid well enough for his needs, and unlike his old town all of the otherwise absent amenities were much closer. And often cheaper, when doing price comparison all the time, saving money slightly better than before. A visit to the doctor still felt like you were getting something amputated but worth it for the better care and expertise available. Maybe it would hurt less if it was all for one person, not that many knew that.
As it turned out, you couldn’t keep secrets forever.
Being the nosy, annoying bastard he was, it should’ve been no surprise that Lance was the one to put the various clues together. As his boss, only Shirogane knew outright but at least chose to humor his desire for the knowledge to be kept close to the vest. Keith wasn’t about to mix personal issues with work ones just to stand witness to disaster. But enough clues must’ve gotten past his cautious action to at least make the excitable Latino suspicious. So it should’ve been no real shock to end up with the man in question on the doorstep of his apartment, looking very irritable even when flanked by Hunk and Pidge. No doubt for support or simply roped into the whole thing, but Lance was the only one glaring as if personally offended.
“Dude, the fuckin’ hell! Why didn’t you tell us you had a kid?!” he was hissing before Keith could shove him out back into the hall, his invasive coworker’s attempt to get past him leading to being able to spot Haylie. The exact way Keith hadn’t planned on any of them finding out why he avoided their offers to eat or drink out like they were diseased.
In his mind, Lance’s irritated tone only added to the caustic effect the man’s presence had on Keith’s once-fair mood. “No one gave a shit before?”
“That’s insane! She’s adorable!”
“I’ll rephrase: you didn’t give a shit.”
“What?! I--the audacity!” the sun-kissed Latino stammered, blue eyes wider enough to be real saucers. “How is this my fault or whatever?”
“Let me think.” Keith snarled as he finally shoved the man far enough out of the way to step out into the hall with the trio, glaring at the source of his ire with mounting fury. “The time you put cherry-bombs in the bottom drawer of my desk.”
“That was just--.”
“Her birthday present was in there and I’d spent most of my lunch break wrapping it, so you’re lucky I could re-wrap it with some paper left over and it didn’t stink like burnt powder.”
Only then did Lance’s expression fall, his shoulders losing their defensive bunching, his companions silent as they too realized what had probably been a group prank had actually gone over worse than they’d thought. “Oh.”
“Now let’s think back to the time you tried to send that strip-o-gram guy to my apartment in the middle of my day off, in the middle of July.” the raven snarled, as that particular attempt had really been a proper insult, his coworker’s ignorance be damned. “Right after you learned what my address even was. A day when she was definitely home.”
Behind Lance, Pidge’s face was changing colors while Hunk appeared mortified. Clearly they’d not known about this, but at least Lance was actually sweating now. “Uh, that was--.”
“Then there was how someone from our office took the candy I’d hidden in a different drawer and filled the bags with black licorice. Which neither of us like and are thankfully not allergic to, but was still forced to go out for a new supply before the stores closed.”
“That wasn’t--.”
“And none of us can really forget about the whole anthrax scare. Three weeks ago.”
“Dude--.”
“Shut, the fuck up.” Keith snapped with the right amount of heat and wrath that Lance’s teeth clicked audibly, he shut his mouth that fast. All the better to all but force his unwanted visitor toward the far wall as he continued to scowl while snarling more. “You are my coworker, not my friend. You are a menace, and probably shouldn’t be a detective. I don’t even know how you became a cop! For all any of us know, that’s a case that will definitely never be solved, you are so damn impossible to get rid of.”
As he spoke, more and more of Lance’s natural bronze faded away to an unhealthy pallor but he didn’t care. What he did care about was giving the rambunctious idiot what for, even if their own squad watched on as the perfect witnesses. “You are chaos. You’re the idiot I hate and the one who always hates me, someone usually does. That’s just fine. You each take some measure of enjoyment in making my life hell. That’s fine too, it’s nothing new, really. Now go the fuck away so I can spend a quiet holiday with my daughter, away from you, before I have to suffer your presence again at work.” turning on his heel, Keith offered them one last glare once back through his door, ignoring how the trio were in different forms of shock. “Merry friggin’ Christmas.”
Having been thankfully oblivious to the whole thing from where she’d been in the kitchen, his young daughter called out once the door slammed shut. “Who was that, Dad?”
“Just some drunk that got past the security door. I’ll deal with him if anyone calls here to complain.” he chose to call back while turning the deadbolt, hopefully a signal to the people still outside that he wasn’t going to answer the door again.
“Dad, no shootings. It’s a holiday!”
“That’s what a taser is for, kiddo.” Keith was glad to reply, knowing full well that his nosy visitors could hear every word. “At full voltage.”
Quiet mutters sounded off from the other side of the door, followed by a small stampede of differing sized shoes on the hallway floor. Knowing Lance, he was leading the way like the clumsy gazelle he was, and Keith could breath a little easier. For the evening.
----
Early the next day, Lance is perfectly aware that he’s fucked up. Bad.
People scurry out of the elevator in the wake of Keith Kogane, their newest detective of almost a full year, coming out behind them to practically march over to his desk. Ravenwing hair and pale skin against dark clothing make him doubly intimidating, only threefold now that he’s glaring at everyone and everything in sight. Not even Hunk bothers to raise his head and maybe offer the surly man a share of his donuts of which Keith rarely partakes but usually offers a soft word of thanks before moving on. Katie ‘Pidge’ Holt could sometimes get his mouth twitching into a smirk with a story or joke she had to offer when working on some gadget wasn’t taking up her attention.
Allura and Romelle seemed to be on decent enough terms with the man, but nothing more, same with Matt and a few others around the floor. It was clear now from what Lance had experienced the day before that Keith had merely abided his antics for a reason, stood his ground with whatever form of indifferent tolerance the raven seemed to have. But from the dark cloud over his head, fat with energy and just as pissed off, Lance McClain had really stepped in it and gotten it right into his mouth.
The amount of quietly seething hatred became clearer than before later that week after two days of avoiding each other passed when asked to sit in Lance’s car together for a stakeout of a small drug house. Not just to break up a hiding place for addicts but maybe catch a big enough fish to bust up the operation at higher levels. With radio and engine off, they were left with a silence Lance couldn’t stand for longer than an hour. He had to say something and his nerves were painfully obvious when his words failed to come out smoothly as planned.
“So… a daughter.” Lance stated aloud, but almost above a stage-whisper without even thinking about it. “I mean… that’s pretty huge.”
Silence reigned until a spark of hope filled him at finally seeing Keith move… until he saw it was to speak into the radio he had. “Caucasian male, dark hat, black jacket and blue jeans, entering the premises.”
“Copy.” an officer helping them on another corner out of sight replied, a sign they too had seen the nameless person enter the premises. Probably to join the ‘party’ inside.
“Keith--.”
“Are you still talking, or are you even bothering to do your damn job?” the harsh answer was like a barbed whip, very different from the calm statement made into the radio, which had fallen back into his lap until something else happened. Keith had been a pillar of ice until right then, which meant he’d been holding back his fury in order to be professional.
Lance sighed heavily as he turned away, looking rather put out. Keith didn’t care, so long as the scrawny man actually proved his worth for once and didn’t annoy him the entire time they were trapped in a car together.
“What if I--?”
Click.
“Okay.” the Latino muttered aloud, not needing any other clue to know what the sound might be, and the implication behind it. He knew that once Keith pulled his weapon, he wasn’t in a good mood or playing around. Very rarely was his handling of any object a joke, and tended to result in something getting broken. Good reason for his partner to know that chatter not even close to being work-related wasn’t going to be humored any further. The subject was closed, welded shut too. Especially when it never should’ve been up for discussion to begin with.
The raven waited to the count of thirty, mostly as a test of his unwanted partner’s restraint, allowing his thumb to ease the hammer of his gun back into position with a duller set of clicks. In the driver’s seat, the Latino visibly relaxed and for once, kept his mouth shut. Turned his blue eyes forward to focus on the lamp-lit doorway they were supposed to be watching regardless.
Lance didn’t need to know that the safety on Keith’s gun was on, or that he was more likely to use his taser on the man instead of wasting bullets.
He might need them for the suspect they might end up chasing before the night was over.
----
Escaping into the briefing room with half their floor was what Lance needed to cool down and warm up at the same time. Warm up from the snippy temperature from all the snow falling outside, cool down from dealing with the oppressive heat wafting off his partner at the slightest motion or word that drew his offense. And for the past few days, everything about Lance seemed to give the raven damn good reason to act like his very presence was blasphemy. Which almost didn’t make sense given he was damn sure Keith was an atheist.
“How did it go?” Matt is keen to question him first, and from any other group it would be a painfully stupid question, Lance is somehow sweating a little still.
Isn’t that the sixty-five thousand dollar question? He wants to drawl but instead allows himself to fall into the nearest chair, offered charitably by a worried Hunk. Lance almost wishes he could vanish through the floor to avoid Keith properly for the rest of the week. “He is super-mad at us. I don’t think I can take another stakeout with him cursing me to the devil in the next seat over.” at this point, it’s his right to grouse about being stuck in the same car with an angry detective and his hair-trigger. Good reason for Lance to almost toss his coat to the floor just to feel cooler. “For a minute there, I was actually sure he was gonna shoot me just for asking questions. Or trying to.”
“You can’t be serious--!”
“He cocked his gun before I could get more than three words out, Allura.” Lance said in his most level voice, perhaps ever. His girlfriend looked a bit silly with how her eyes popped but the matter was just too grim for him to laugh at her expense. “The dude is pissed. Mount Keith out there is turning Curtis into a fuckin’ puppy. See?”
It’s not long before they’re all at the windows where he’s spotted the scene and pointed it out, to watch their new recruit try to sidestep the desk in question. A normally casual choice but tonight was risky for the young cop and its ebony-haired occupant giving him the stink-eye over the edge of his monitor. This wasn’t helped by how quiet and sweet the sun-kissed man was most of the time, timid in the face of such powerful anger that wasn’t even his fault.
Obviously he’d tried to be patient, sneak around Keith but the glare leveling the visible floor had made him wait. Even on their side of the glass, it didn’t look like Keith was going to stand up and take his rage out on the poor man, but possibly still suspected even Curtis might have a different motive for getting so close. Craning his neck, Hunk was definitely sympathetic to the plight unfolding. “Hope he goes downstairs to the other restroom before he bursts. It doesn’t look like he can hold it in.”
“Oh, there he goes.” Pidge announced from where she’d gone to get a closer look, shaking her head woefully. “Good luck, dude.”
Knowing Curtis, he’d keep things together pretty well until he reached a stall. He was a very neat and considerate man, and none of them could really imagine him making any sort of mess that wasn’t a pure accident. The suffering of their coworkers aside, Lance sighed heavily. “Seriously, this is getting out of control. We have got to find a way to calm that guy down before he burns this place to the ground with his glaring.”
“Why do we have to help when you’re the problem, Lance?” his best friend-turned-traitor remarked in a dry tone, due cause for Lance to offer a glare of his own.
“Me?! It was you and Pidge who did the candy switch, and the anthrax thing was because of that pissed off tech, not me.” he protested with a glower to the normally laid-back cop he’d known since elementary school. For Hunk to be this disappointed with him wasn’t exactly new but at least Lance knew for certain the blame didn’t fall completely on his shoulders.
“We still have to do something or he’s going to drive everyone to the other side of the room before he leaves.” the stocky detective pointed out, as it was going to come true eventually if Keith’s ire persisted for the entire day like they feared. “For home or something, who cares? This is just gonna get worse.”
Allura, his pale-haired beauty, was settling back into a chair but her words kept Lance from getting distracted like the fool he could be. “What, though? He’s not gonna talk and he’s definitely not gonna let us visit his apartment.” she remarked with open worry, blue eyes mirroring her unease. “Not after he threatened you guys last time.”
“Or look through his car. He’ll go on a rampage for sure if we do that.” Matt grumbled, like a child feeling put-out when told ‘no’.
“You’re right. Has he ever let any of us ride in his car?” Romelle is pointing out from where she’d mostly been listening in. The blonde woman had a tendency to make herself noticeable but today she seemed fine with simply being the observer for the most part.
They’re still for a moment, realizing the answer quickly. “Actually… no. He just rides with someone else and leaves his in the lot.”
Something must’ve been on his face because Hunk was growling--actually growling--at him. “Lance, no.”
“There could be secrets in there!” he protests, quickly annoyed that his latest plan was foiled so quickly.
Hunk is of course backed up by the smallest of them, the young woman’s golden eyes not the least bit impressed as they stare him down. “Or you piss him off even more to where he murders you, gets you both suspended to where he can murder you or gets you both fired, so he can have ample time to murder you.”
“That’s dark, Pidge.”
“Just sayin’ man, you gotta back off. Keith hasn’t told us a single, personal thing in the eleven months he’s been here. And it’s not just because of us, or you.” she pointed out and of course she was right. Pidge was rarely ever wrong, even if Lance hadn’t always wanted to hear some of the things she was about to say. “He just doesn’t want us in his life for some reason, and maybe the fact he has a daughter isn’t his only excuse.”
“Meaning?”
“Think about it: we’re all cops or people who work with cops, we’re all single--.”
“Allura, tell her that’s a lie.”
“Not now, so shush.” the woman chided patiently, Shiro giving a slight cough in the background with his left hand notably visible. In her chair, Pidge quickly amended her statement.
“--almost all of us are single, and we deal with crazy people, weird substances and various weaponry all day long. Who in their right mind would want any of that near their kid? Even if you weren’t a cop?”
Hearing this certainly gave everyone a reason to pause. Their jobs weren’t the easiest or even the safest in the world, dealing with all kinds of crazy things at any moment. “Plus, it’s almost Christmas and I’m betting the last thing he wants is you finding a reason to butt in so you can be your obnoxious self. Right up until he boils over and murders you.”
“We gotta face facts. He does not want us anywhere near him right now. Our only choice is respecting that.” Shiro decided right then to chime in, damn him, only giving the bare-bones of even tangible advice. He’d given up on ordering Lance or anyone to do or not do certain things once they got a hold of whatever it was. Their stubbornness was what made them detectives, even if Lance liked to play chicken against whatever dangers might exist in order to get the same truth they all chased after. His words were being supported by many a stern look, which definitely put the Latino on the spot.
“For real, man. Do not fuck this up.” Hunk told him, normally kind face twisted into a quite impatient frown. It was also rare for the gentle giant to curse too, so that kept Lance’s attention. “You always act like it’s Opposite Day but trust us, leave it alone this time.”
They broke apart to reclaim their respective corners of the room, able to drift into place without drawing Keith’s attention. Mostly because he’d gone back to glaring holes into his computer screen instead of someone passing by his desk, allowing the other detectives to settle in peace. Romelle, Shiro's assistant, passed by a bit too close but Keith didn’t even flinch. Of them all, he probably tolerated her the best other than Pidge or sometimes Hunk. If Lance tried to go while Keith was sitting there, who knew what the man would do about it?
No real options left, backed into a corner? No choice. He thought, steeling himself for what he’d need to do if not that night but the next day. Which he did since he was forced to work a little later than normal to catch up on filing his reports and then get up early to avoid suspicion for his lunch break. His drive to his destination was a quick and familiar one, for two reasons it seemed now, but worth it when his knock on the door saw him greeted with a warm smile.
Ever the cheery man he was, he’d smiled back with a hint of desperation in every fiber of his expression. “Abuela, I need your help.”
Maria’s warm face softened at his plea, wrinkles bringing out the mirth of her smile as she waved him through her door. “Come in, mijo. You don’t come by often enough.”
“Thanks.” he muttered, gladly ducking inside and did all the puttering in the kitchen himself to get a deli sandwich. Having been there before, he knew his way around and Maria was very accustomed to her younger guests moving like bees as she settled back into her chair. In minutes, Lance was perched on the couch and telling his story, due cause for Maria to click her tongue in mild disappointment. Then, no differently than a village scribe, she began to give her knowledge without pause.
Lance ended up learning quite a bit about his grandmother’s neighbor: Keith and his only child Haylie had moved in right before the spring semester at the local middle school with only a few boxes and a beat up futon couch to their name. Even Keith’s original car looked a bit like something only a cheap bastard would drive around town for nefarious dealings before trading it in for something newer, but still pretty cheap since it was only two years old. Over the months that followed, Maria had been blessed with the kind-hearted, sweets-loving Haylie for a pittance that a real babysitter might ask for since the child was so well-behaved. Whip-smart too, if most of her work came back with large B’s and A’s on them.
In almost complete contrast, Maria had found Keith was much harder to crack but once between them, he wasn’t that hard to figure out. Initially deadpan, the raven was in fact quite expressive but they were so minor you either missed them or could be explained away as slight tics. Meaningless, unless seen in context or with the right knowledge. Keith was in fact very kind, like his daughter but was far more reluctant about it. If there was a job to be done and he didn’t know how to do it, he either knew enough about it by the end of the day to get the experience or he found someone who could help out. He had an eye for quality and deals that Maria had to openly claim was not her doing, which surprised Lance a bit, as he knew his grandmother was quite frugal.
Another shock was how talkative Keith could get, but only in Haylie’s presence. Mostly about space and her schoolwork, offering incredibly vague scenarios about his police cases like it was a game of Clue. If Keith didn’t come to some conclusion himself by falling silent, then Haylie’s remarks either got him thinking or running for the door from the epiphany. He was a decent cook, and getting better each time Haylie pulled her father into Maria’s apartment instead of going back to their own for the evening. Always willing to be the old woman’s sous chef and watch cooking videos for anything Maria couldn’t properly explain. The fact Keith was a cop who actually lived in the building unlike Lance who only visited, the building had taken on a slightly calmer air. Not to mention a good deal of the occupants were grateful that both Keith and Haylie were relatively quiet neighbors unless there was an honest celebration going on, like the girl’s birthday. Another bit of information Lance actually wrote down, on the off-chance of actually getting to attend in the future.
It should’ve been not much of a surprise that Keith’s birthday, which was shockingly in October and another date the entire precinct had missed, had been spent in relative silence. Again in contrast to his daughter, who’d gotten a double layer cake and had invited her new classmates to enjoy the day with her. Nothing too fancy, as Haylie’s bright personality stole the show and helped everyone have a good time.
Keith’s birthday was spent in general calm Maria told him, with movies and cupcakes, the older raven smiling at the one gift Haylie had managed to find and wrap for him. An honest to god smile and not some ghostly smirk, a vision his grandmother said she’d missed the chance to get his picture. Lance didn’t mind, as his abuela wasn’t a liar. Maria’s had been an updated copy of an old cookbook they’d taken a liking to, while Haylie’s had been a new knife set she’d bought with her own allowance when at the store with Maria on the same day. With the elderly woman there watching, the clerk had been very understanding about letting the eleven-year old make the purchase.
Having been inside the apartment and Lance had barely gotten to see the front hall along with everyone else, Maria had every right to claim the place was neatly decorated with only so much personal touches. Mostly Haylie’s better paintings and their photos on a wall or mantle, the rest was the nicer furniture they’d gotten over the course of several months and Keith having the time to have them moved in or the cash to buy them new. Even their clothes had taken a few weeks to rise to a better quality, suggesting that wherever they’d been before had only paid so much and most of what they had needed to be replaced regardless of funds. The only hint of anything truly distinctive of Keith’s past was a photo of an older man in the corner.
Someone Maria had never seen and had the mind not to speak of. Holding her tongue for once on the ruggedly handsome man captured in time, a man not even Haylie gave any information on. At all. Maria was also too polite to ask, knowing the information could be shared one day, when Keith was comfortable. A matter she won’t press even for Lance’s sake, she tells him, calm without any edge to her voice. Not when the photo had black ribbon in one corner and it stood alone, in obvious reverence. The man was in uniform but not from a station she recognized, making Lance shiver from a sudden chill.
A firefighter. Who died, probably in the line of duty. Keith’s choice of career was riveting thanks to this but did explain why he was more than a little intense when in the moment of finding or chasing a suspect. He wasn’t about to let them escape to cause more trouble that would lead to more people getting hurt. Spare some random stranger the pain of loss, which he still felt strongly if he was so determined all the time.
Lance thanks his grandmother with a smile and a sweet kiss that got her laughing, knowing to take the stairs back down in case Keith was in the elevator. He couldn’t move forward with his plan if the target ended up throttling him for being where he wasn’t welcome. A thought he’d never believed he’d associate with his grandmother’s building, but if he did things right, Keith would be more tolerant of his random appearances there in the future.
The very same chance he took a sixteen-hour ‘I swear I just survived Hell’ trial finding the pair something they would like, searching four stores to even find his prizes. He was jubilant on the drive home just to almost collapse on hour seventeen wrapping his new purchases that’ve probably put him a little in the red for once. And not the festive kind.
Feeling a bit like a salesman at the Kogane door with its modest wreath hanging with tasteful bits of ribbon poking out of the fake pine, he didn’t mind grinning when Keith did indeed answer the door. “Hi.” having maybe expected Lance to be standing there with his tired smile, the raven’s expression didn’t change as he started to shut the door again. “N-no, no, no wait--!”
Curses and pain were held back by years of gentle chiding to be polite as Lance managed to simply squeak at having his foot trapped in the door like in the movies. All the times shown on screen had to be fake for sure if he could barely stand the pain, Keith glaring at him from the other side. As per usual, the man was not impressed. “Get your foot out of my door or I will crush it like cheap plaster.”
“Please give me a chance, please, pretty please?” he shamelessly begged, grimacing a bit when the door’s solid edge dug into his shoe a little more.
The stare he was getting had the power of a brewing storm. “No.”
“Dude, I brought drinks--.”
“I don’t drink.” the blunt reply made Lance instantly regret coming over with a six-pack of beer as well as two neatly wrapped gifts. A real juggling act to perform from his car to this floor, without dropping any item in his effort to finally be somewhat accepted in Keith’s eyes.
So much for a friendly beer between coworkers, he thought, already scrambling to find some tiny hole in the man’s logic. Get him to finally warm up to Lance, as he’s already done mostly with Hunk and Romelle. “Then at least half is for me before I leave but seriously--fuck!” all politeness was forgotten when one’s toes are stepped on, adding to the abuse that leaves him jerking his leg away. He muttered more curses when the raven used the chance to shut the door properly in his face. “Keith, c’mon!”
No audible answer but he was sure the faint click echoing through was the deadbolt sliding into place. “Keith… please.” he waited, feeling like a mewling cat hoping his owner was awake to let him in from the rain. “Please?”
The response was quiet but resounding from the other side. “No.”
“C’mon, I’m not leaving.”
“No.”
“Just for a minute, then.” Lance pressed, doing his best not to sound desperate or annoyed with this man’s stubbornness. It was a holiday and the last thing they should do is fight.
“No.” Keith repeated, not budging.
“I come bearing gifts, so open up before my arms get tired.”
This seemed to be enough for the raven to budge, opening his door a crack once unlocked so a amethyst eye could peer out at him with almost the caution of a wary child. “Why?”
Don’t think about that, Lance told himself, as this wasn’t the time for any guesses on the man’s history as he stuck with using the moment. “Cuz it’s Christmas, dude!” he insisted, knowing better than to push in case Keith locked him out for good. “And I had to almost risk my life like, seven times, just to find something I knew you wouldn’t be able to hate.”
Hearing such a thing made the man blink, easily putting the puzzle together into one very familiar word. “Maria.” he grumbled right before shouting past Lance with a rare display of volume. “Traitor!”
“Just accept it, mijo!” the Latina cackled, having maybe been listening the entire time.
Keith glared at the woman’s door with nostrils flaring like an irked bull, shifting his gaze to Lance who did his best not to waver. “This isn’t a prank?” he questioned just as Lance assumed he might. “Or some shitty scheme you got into your head and didn’t think all the way through?”
“I’d tell you to strip-search me to be sure, but I think we both want me with my pants on in your apartment.”
The man’s face twisted into a sneer, the very idea repulsive to him. “I already don’t like you, but if she doesn’t like you then I definitely will never like you.” for a brief moment, he’s almost sure Keith will have them in the hall all night until he folds at long last. “Five minutes.”
“Perfect!” Lance cheered his victory, doing his best not to skip through the door now that it was fully opened for him.
Keith’s apartment isn’t that difficult to navigate, able to take the hall straight for a few yards until a doorway leading left shows the kitchen and a small figure likely standing on a stool of some sort to organize the trays of gingerbread with simple, white icing. Another glance to the left reveals that the counter makes a sort of G-shape to separate the space from the little area made into a dining space with a table and four chairs. Just beyond was the living room, a small tree already set up with modest decorations. It took up a small table but had a few presents underneath already, suggesting the tiny family was accustomed to a humble form of holiday celebration. Questions on so many things were kept under wraps as Lance focused instead on the kitchen’s only other occupant.
She’s under four feet tall, expected of a child under fifteen, fair skin a healthy pink when compared to her father’s almost paper-white. Her hair is the same shade of black though, long and in a simple braid over her shoulder to bring attention to the bright purple ribbon and her red and white snowflake sweater. The white turtleneck collar poking up from beneath the weave is more of a cream, instantly allowing Lance to believe this child knew a little about fashion if he was left wondering if he’d wandered into a movie set.
Then she’s looking up and Lance has to almost physically remember he’s a guest, this child is real and if he doesn’t get on with why he’s there, Keith might truly murder him.
“Oh, hi!” the girl remarks with a smile that’s impossibly blinding, violet eyes flashing with curiosity as a pink blush somehow adds to her youthful appearance. “I’m Haylie. Who’re you?”
Good god, they’re clones! Any shock he has at seeing this child properly is carefully put aside in the name of smiling at her with his natural confidence. Now was not the time to be tripping over the first stupid thing to pop into his head, not when this Kogane Copy was so damn cheery. “I’m Lance, I work with your dad. Hope you don’t mind me stopping by, even if you’re across from my abuela’s place.”
Amethyst orbs so much like her father’s spark brightly. “Oh! So you’re Unlucky Lance!”
Hearing all manner of strange epiphanies kept Lance from openly faltering at the sudden use of a new moniker, especially one for him. “What?”
“Dad really censors his bad words when he needs to vent about you! Not all of it’s exactly nice, either.” the young raven told him with very little preamble, the statements striking at his heart with the power of dull-tipped bolts. He used quite a bit of control not to yell every denial his brain is thinking up as this fair little girl went on unabashed. “He never listens when I tell him you might not be as bad as he thinks.”
“You know what? I tell him that all the time, but does he listen?” he turns to give Keith a sly glance, just to feel sweat form on his brow when seeing the other man is staring. The cloud is back but well-hidden if the child in the room doesn't seem to notice, making Lance struggle to keep his cool. “Right, why I’m here.”
“Oh, are you here for dinner?”
Lance fought to avoid freaking out in front of this adorable child at the burning sensation getting him square in the back of the head, a grim reminder that this girl’s father was losing patience. “Sadly, no.” he remarks with a somehow stable tone as he offers the wrapped boxes with a small flourish. “For the little lady.”
“Aw, really? But I didn’t get you anything!” the girl crowed as she abandoned her post to accept the packages, easily reminding Lance how she could easily be an older niece of his.
Warmed by the idea his coworker’s only daughter was so kind to even think of getting him something in full spite of being strangers, Lance shook his head. “That’s perfectly fine, I did drop by pretty much without notice. These look good, though!”
“Thanks! Have one?”
Yet again, he forgot that Keith was there just from how friendly the man’s clone was, gladly reaching with his free hand to snag a star. “As if I can resist!”
“Find a place for those under the tree, sweets.” Keith’s voice is quiet and offers gentle authority that gets the girl to look away from their visitor admiring the design piped onto the warm cookie right before sticking it into his mouth.
“I know just where to put them!” Haylie cheers as she scampers around Lance to do just that, before the tiny tree in a flash and seeming to be quickly occupied with adding the new gifts to the pile. It’s so adorable, the Latino is too busy chewing on the delicious gingerbread to laugh.
Lance’s three-dozen questions were derailed yet again by turning around just to see that Keith is back to giving him a full-blown glower. Without Haylie there as a buffer, he was on his own with the grumpy version of Keith he was painfully familiar with. “So I don’t have to undo the tape later to make sure they’re not explosives?”
“Dude, trust me, just this once alright? I did not rig anything for any reason. This month.”
He squeaks indignantly when his hand is slapped away from the pile of cookies neatly stacked on a tray, pouting as his host just glares. “That is not reassuring.”
“Relax, I promise that they’re perfectly safe, tasteful holiday gifts and there is no ulterior motive whatsoever.”
“Other than having me act only slightly grouchy at work so everyone can stop walking on eggshells around my desk?”
Dammit, Lance thought but knew there was no real way to get around that particular truth after the long week of everyone in their office being wary of Keith. “Yes, other than that.”
The deep violet of the man’s eyes darken some as the raven refuses to budge with a faint bite in his tone. “So, this isn’t a forced attempt to somehow miraculously befriend me, insert yourself into my life and upend it like it’s a romantic comedy just to stop halfway through because you’ll be dead in my trunk?” he inquires without any heat or obvious irritation, just cool words that sting far, far worse. “We’re clear on that, correct?”
Doing his best not to fold like a cheap origami animal made from a used napkin, the sun-kissed man had to force his voice not to leave his throat as a strained squeak. “Clear as… a-as Waterford crystal, b-best crystal in the world, my dude.” he managed to get out without too much nervous butchering, even if his expression is now honestly anxious over the idea. “Y-you wouldn’t really--.”
“The night is still young.” Keith drawled, a clear sign that he was in no mood for Lance’s presence even for a minute longer, in spite of having at least two left. “And you probably know by now that I’ve got a new cleaver I haven’t had a chance to really use yet.”
“Oh my god, please stop or I’m going to destroy my pants.”
“Just so we’re clear.”
“Totes.”
“Don’t say that shit around me.”
“Sorry, I’m panicking.” Lance whispered, the admission truly the best he could do without spilling anything else that might only get him in more trouble.
The raven staring with nary a blink seems to twitch in a way that’s so minute that Lance almost thinks he imagines it. “Please leave.”
“You got it!” he agrees with more gusto, painfully grateful for the opening so he’s not standing there like an idiot for half the night. “Bye, Ms. Haylie, thanks for the cookie!”
“What? Oh, bye!” the girl calls from the living room and Lance waves at her through the doorway leading directly into the space right before the door’s shut behind him.
Outside in the safe loneliness of the main hall, Lance mutters a prayer or two under his breath at having survived what could only be described as harrowing and maybe shovel-talk. But he’d done what he’d intended and maybe in a few days, Keith would be friendlier. Or his brand of it, granted his offering was taken as the honest gesture it was. On the other side of the door, he caught a snippet of conversation. “Where’s he going?”
“To get drunk at his grandmother’s.”
“Ah. Hope he takes a taxi later. It’s too cold and he shouldn’t drive.”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping for a different miracle.”
“Dad!” Haylie admonished with shocking disdain at the comment. “Not nice.”
“Sounds like a nice present to me.” Keith grumbles as his voice and footsteps fade away, perhaps simply glad to have Lance gone at all.
“DAD!”
Lance didn’t really question if they knew or cared that he could hear them still, but gladly let himself into Maria’s apartment just across the hall to seek refuge in his snickering abuela’s presence. He drank four of the beers and left the last two in her fridge, had enough meatloaf that it was no surprise he woke up at four in the morning on her couch, still feeling stuffed and buzzed. He did end up taking a taxi in order to sleep off the rest of his hangover, clean up and take another ride back to drive in just a bit late for work.
Every device he read displayed that it was still the twenty-first, which meant he still had several days of waiting to see if his ambitious ploy even worked. Keith was still a snarling, grimacing pillar of irritation until they all damn near rushed the elevator to leave on the twenty-fourth, eager to have the night off just to enjoy a quiet day with friends and family. The most anyone could do concerning Keith was wait.
----
Stepping off the elevator on December twenty-seventh was like most any other day with the slight difference that all the Christmas decor had been pulled down at some point. Not that Keith knew when or cared, as the holiday was technically over and New Year’s would dominate for far less time. He doubted that he’d get to go home early and watch the clock tick over with Haylie but with Maria for company he wasn’t too concerned. Another difference was he had chosen something a bit new for his long drive to work in order to avoid being chilled, the banded scarf of varying shades of blue proving more comfortable worn than when he’d first got it out of the box. Long and thick to be wrapped around his neck a few times, Keith had marveled at how the soft weave shut out the offensive cold even before his car’s heater almost made him pull it off for the drive.
Haylie’s gift have been a set of gloves, a hat and her own scarf in rosy pinks, made of the same fluffy wool if he couldn’t tell the difference with his own. A cute ensemble his daughter adored and put on to immediately run outside and have a snowball fight with the other kids in the building where the snow had gathered in their tiny courtyard. Despite having only lived there for less than a year, Keith settled onto a bench to act as the peacekeeper over the rowdy children, given more than one mug of cocoa for his sacrifice by grateful parents. They all knew who he was and weren’t afraid he was just a strange man watching so many kids having winter fun.
Dinner that night was spent with Maria to ever-include the kind woman in not just being a part-time babysitter, her warm brown eyes lighting up at how much ham she was given. Mashed potatoes, steamed carrots and slices of canned pineapple round out the meal as stories and news is shared over their plates. A portion of the food wrapped to go with their neighbor when the hour grows late, and a slice of pudding pie for the next night, having devoured her first slice already. Ideas for New Year’s were in the air, but spending it together was cast in cement.
His bag let him carry his coffee in one hand and the bag of cookies in the other, freed from a pouch where they’d managed not to be slightly crushed or broken from any mishandling. In his left hand to avoid much in the way of mishap, the raven knew any who saw the cookies might have questions but wouldn’t ask. Keith was known for being tightlipped even on good days, and he could have any reason for openly holding cookies in a bag.
Pretty soon, he’s by his coworker’s desk, confident in his plan. “Hey, Lance.”
The man in question spun a bit as if being addressed by the raven at all is a phenomenon by itself. Allura is certainly wide-eyed from where she’s sitting across from her boyfriend, taking in the scene with silent awe. “Keith… uh, hi.” Lance managed after a few seconds, blue eyes having trouble staying away from the sandwich bag so plainly in view. “W-what’s that?”
“Cookies, we made extra.” he remarked to the Latino’s evident shock if he took the bag numbly. “Enjoy.”
“Oh uh, thanks dude.” the man stated but Keith had mostly turned away already to walk toward his desk, his show of goodwill completed.
Behind him, people were scrambling to surround Lance’s desk, Matt the loudest among them even when he was close enough to even speak in a hushed voice. “What the fuck?!”
“I don’t know.” Lance replied in the same weak tone, just as thrown by the odd display of kindness made without any real prompting.
The raven didn’t act like he could hear them on his way over to his desk to settle in for work, his new scarf finding a home in the drawer he kept mostly empty for his beanie and gloves during cold weather and they weren’t soaked with melting ice. It was a few days after Christmas and they’d get some time off again for New Year’s, but if anyone found out he had a peppermint mocha in his extra-large cup from his usual coffee spot, he didn’t care. He’d buy some every morning until they went back to regular flavors, keeping the whole holiday alive one cup at a time. Watching Lance and his observers take in the plastic bag and its innocent-looking cookies shaped like trees, stars and little men, he fought a smirk. Knowing Lance, the silly man wouldn’t take very long to uncover the secret of his gift.
Lo and behold, he allowed his mouth to stretch into a proper smile with a twist of impish glee at not only hearing, but seeing Lance cough and sputter in his shock. Such was the price of too much salt even in gingerbread cookies. Though at the moment, such things were utilized best when made on purpose. Across the room, the others were trying to uncover the mystery without tasting the newly revealed prank cookies as the Latino attacked his own coffee mug in order to clean out his mouth. Whatever he had chosen that morning had to be a sweet flavor to give him relief pretty quickly.
Keith’s dark chuckle carried a bit across the room, making the way his coworker turned at the noise more than perfect. His wicked grin was plastered on just for Lance and his teary-eyed stare, raising his to-go coffee cup in mock salute. One or two of them looked blank-faced, Pidge was turning almost as green as some of the lime-green things she liked. Even the captain was stiff, possibly unnerved by the vision.
They all knew Keith rarely smiled, least of all willingly. Even for photos. Not even Romelle has managed to get even the slightest twitch from him, despite using his favorite donut holes as a bribe.
Of them all, Lance simply looked shocked and maybe a little betrayed.
Perfect for Keith’s final word on the matter, meant to float across the room with as much arrogance as he dared. “Merry Christmas, and keep the change, ya filthy animal.”
Those normally excited blue eyes were comically wide, perhaps more shocked at having been tricked than hearing a slightly altered ‘Home Alone’ quote from Keith. Such a thing was mild compared to what he should’ve done to make Lance back off and behave but there was no real way to go back now. Simply yelling clearly hadn’t worked, so what better way to test their mettle than with underhanded methods?
No one went near his desk for the rest of the shift, and let him work in peace. He was even allowed to walk out unmolested, saving one last devilish cackle for passing Lance’s desk while the man was still sitting there. Catching a glimpse of the man’s nervous squirming made him smile a little wider even past the elevator and the lobby, in his car. His quiet holiday was practically a guarantee. He probably looked a little crazed when pulling out to drive home, grateful as ever that the late hour usually meant a smooth ride.
At the same time, Keith felt lighter than he had in a while. He was actually pleased about something that wasn’t Haylie’s doing, a rare thing. And he’d gotten one over on Lance for the first time in months. Knowing how much he’d probably just scared the man into backing off, Lance might actually not do anything until after New Years. This notion had Keith grinning like a maniac as a result.
Best Christmas ever.
----