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Chapter Text

Sure, Lance sometimes felt like fluffing plastic Christmas trees was shockingly tedious and would certainly give him contact dermatitis, but he never looked at them like they were Satan incarnate. 

And that’s exactly what Keith was doing, nose hitched in a permanent wrinkle of disgust and teeth bared. 

Lance sucked in his lips, trying to hide his smile as he leaned against the counter, folding his arms over the chest of his Christmas sweater.

Keith straightened and bent the plastic limbs of the tree with a grimace, doing his best to avoid eye contact with the three other trees that needed to be fluffed. 

“They aren’t going to bite you, Keith.”
Keith shot him a glare, venomous even for him, and turned away.

Lance snorted, returning to his attempt of untangling the ribbon spools.

It was December 1st, twenty-four days before Christmas, and Castleship Toys was preparing for war. 

The toy store was snug between a local cafe and a bookstore, walking distance from the nearby college and subsequently ravaged by college students and the other stores’ patrons the second they realized it was Christmas shopping time. 

The expected onslaught required two employees to come in earlier to decorate the store. Lance, both a Christmas and overtime pay lover, was the first to sign up. Keith signed up as well, likely because he seemed to put a lot of effort in ruining Lance’s general good mood. 

Despite their occasional squabble, the store looked fantastic. The interior was all warm hues, old dark wood flooring, cream walls, large beaming windows. On every surface were toys. Their stock varied from hand stitched dolls or stuffed animals from small or local businesses to the latest VR headset. It was a chaotic mess of anything a kid could want and Lance loved it fiercely. 

So he did right by it for his favorite holiday.

String lights gleamed above them, throwing glints of colors from the garland wrapped around the windowsills and great staircase up to the second floor. The fake Christmas trees stood tall and proud in each corner of the shop, yet to be fully decorated but glittering with lights. Lance had tried to argue a case for real Christmas trees but Allura, ever the smart owner, had insisted sweeping pine nettles was the last thing they needed to add to their busy schedule. Bright red bows were pasted to their storage cabinets and Lance had half a mind to just start tossing glitter everywhere. 

Lance planted his chin on his hand, yawned throatily, and watched Keith struggle with the tree. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why Keith decided to work here. 

Keith Kogane had been at the toy store longer than Lance had, scowling and grumpy since Lance’s first day. He had even trained Lance, which had led to a flirting incident that they agreed to never bring up again. 

(Lance will silently argue his point that when they aren’t glinting evilly, Keith’s eyes are still a little dreamy and he stands by his decision to comment on it. Just maybe check that your new cute coworker doesn’t have a stick up his ass.)

Despite his bad attitude, Keith was a pretty solid coworker. He was focused and smart and gladly handled the worst customers.

Allegedly , he was nice to the others. Lance had yet to witness it, but Hunk and Pidge swore up and down that he was a decent guy to chat with when Lance wasn’t around. 

Which, ouch, but Lance didn’t linger too long on it. Keith was quiet and a bit of an asshole and Lance tended to be loud and a gracious creature, so he supposed it was a little natural they wouldn’t mix.

He was happy to coexist. 

Until it was ten minutes to opening and almost all the fake Christmas trees were still uneven and lumpy. 

Lance groaned dramatically, abandoning his ribbons and stalking over to Keith. 

“You know, I’ve hung up all the Christmas lights, turned on the Christmas music channel, switched to our Christmas bags, and prepared our gift-wrap table in the time it took for you to stretch out half the limbs on one tree. Me thinks you are trying to get out of work.”

Keith’s nose wrinkled. “That was way too many Christmases in one sentence.” 

Lance rolled his eyes, hip checking Keith out of the way and making quick work of the branches. 

“You would be a Scrooge.”

Keith raised his eyes in defeat, stalking back towards the tangled ribbon. “Guilty as charged.”

Lance froze, hands full of plastic nettles. “Wait, actually?”

Keith shrugged, nimble fingers making quick work of the tangled ribbon, asshole, he had so been stalling with the trees. “Whatever, it’s not my thing.”

Lance blinked. “Not your thing ? You’re wearing a red-and-white striped apron and a Santa hat, for god’s sake.”

Keith winced, clearly not enjoying a reminder of their holiday uniform. Lance thought it was hilarious, Keith’s pinched face and mop of dark hair rebuked by a cheerful hat and apron. He should have looked ridiculous, with his ear piercings and dark clothing stuffed into Christmas attire. 

(But, naturally, as the gods predestined, Keith looked hot even when he looked like a candy cane.) 

Keith checked his watch. “I’ll get the doors.”

“Whoa,” Lance held out his hands. “We need to talk about this. You don’t like Christmas?”

“Yes, Lance,” Keith groaned as he marched to the front doors. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is,” Lance insisted as he moved to the next tree. “You work in a toy store, dude. You’re like two steps removed from Santa.”

Keith stopped, turning on his heels with raised eyebrows. “I really hope I’m not going to be the first one to tell you this, but–”

Lance squawked, waving a hand his way. “Don’t even say it. The spirit of Santa lives on in these hallowed walls, especially considering we are about to be chatting with little kids about their wish lists all month.”

Keith looked unimpressed. 

“How can you not like it?” Lance asked, moving on to another tree. “It’s cold and there’s snow and fun music and hot people acting like idiots on the Hallmark channel.” 

“Sounds like I’m really missing out,” Keith drawled, unlocking the doors. 

“And presents!” Lance continued eagerly as Keith hefted their sign outside. “I love shopping for gifts, it might be my favorite part.”

“Figures,” Keith shivered as he walked back inside. “I’m not one for gifts, or cheesy movies, or, you know, snow.”

Lance stared at Keith in disbelief. “You’re serious. What the hell are you doing working here, then?” 

Keith shrugged, nonplussed. “I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”

Lance opened his mouth to respond, actually intending to get to the bottom of this, but a haggard mom burst in with her two kids and the first day of the Christmas season began. 

***

“When you say you don’t like Christmas…”

Lance trailed off as Keith shot him an exasperated look.

But he couldn’t help it. 

He had been tortured the entire first hour of their shift, doomed to look at a Christmas-hater in the eyes every time the line to check out grew a little too long. He supposed he should have been grateful that Keith was pausing stocking inventory to help him, but he could barely look the man in the eyes.

“Is it the holiday or just the single day?” He pushed on, watching as Keith tried to find the barcode on what looked like a robotic mermaid. “Because I could get behind at least one of those.”

“I don’t know, Lance,” Keith sighed tiredly. “All of it, I’m not a fan.”

Lance shared a shocked look with the customer. 

“You can’t hate all of it.”

Keith gave him a challenging look, his eyes glinting. “Oh, I assure you I do.”

Before Lance could argue, Keith had turned to the customer with an irritatingly good customer service smile and the conversation was finished for him. 

***

 “So,” Lance leaned against the counter as Keith unwrapped another spool of receipt tape. “What about hot chocolate? Peppermint mochas?”

Keith made a face as he plugged the tape back into the printer. “Too chocolate-y.”

Lance gaped at him. “You’re a monster. Apple cider?”

“Too apple-y.”

“Now you’re just fucking with me.”

***

“Did you know Keith’s dirty little secret?” Lance demanded the moment Pidge walked into the store.

They offered him a tired blink as they joined him at the counter, reaching for their apron. “There are too many. You need to specify.”

Keith shot them a dirty look, but said nothing as he pointed a kid towards the mountain of stuffed animals. 

“That he doesn’t like Christmas,” Lance said in a hushed whisper. 

“Oh, yeah,” Pidge yawned. “He’s never liked it.”

Lance’s jaw dropped.

Pidge had known Keith for years, something about their brothers being longtime friends. He had been hoping that Keith was just fucking with him, only for Pidge to confirm it. 

“What is his deal with it?”

“Not sure,” Pidge said airily, walking past him. “I like to mind my business. Has anyone put on a pot of coffee?” 

***

“Tell me you’ve at least watched Love Actually ,” Lance called up the ladder as Keith wedged out another box of coloring books. “Because you can’t form your opinion on the holiday until you do.”

“Never seen it,” Keith said dryly, turning and passing the box to Lance.

“C’mon,” Lance complained. “You’ve never seen Hugh Grant as a sexy Prime Minister? Had Emma Thompson rip your heart out to the dulcet tones of Joni Mitchell? You’d sob your eyes out, my man.”

“It’s like you’re talking in a foreign language,” Keith lifted another box. 

Lance stared at his shoulder blades as they shifted and lost the plot for a fraction of a second. 

“What about A Christmas Story?”

“Is that where Scrooge comes from?”

“Dear God .”

***

“Mariah Carey?”

“Who?”

Lance dropped to his knees. 

***

“Carol of the Bells,” Lance said out of the corner of his mouth. 

“No,” Keith sighed. 

“Jingle Bell Rock.”

“Nope.”

Lance glared at the ceiling of the staff lounge, a small room tucked upstairs in the Castleship and mainly meant for the sporadic meeting or employee catnap. 

And Lance had spent the past five minutes before their weekly staff meeting trying to find a holiday song that Keith liked. 

“Joy to the World.”

Keith lolled his head. “Assume that any song sung around a nativity scene isn’t my thing.”

“Fair enough,” Lance considered this. “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.”

Keith shrugged at that one. 

“Yes!” Lance fistbumped. 

“He likes the hippo part,” Pidge said, not bothering to look up from their phone. “Not the Christmas part.”

Lance groaned, dropping back in his chair. 

“What is this bothering you so much?” Hunk asked with a bemused smile. 

“That’s what I keep asking,” Keith said.

“Because it’s impossible for someone who truly doesn’t like Christmas to work at a toy store,” Lance said matter-of-factly. “They are required to run into their high school ex at a Christmas tree farm while the aforementioned ex is taking a break from the big city. Then they fall in love and have a bunch of babies with names like Holiday or Evergreen.”

Keith looked bewildered. “ Sorry ?”

Hunk patted his back kindly. “You should check out the Hallmark channel.”

“It sounds like not my thing.”

“Shocker,” Pidge added.

Before Lance could throw out another song title, Allura glided into the cramped room, followed by the assistant manager, Coran. 

“Good morning everyone,” Allura smiled at them and Lance tried to not drool. 

Allura was probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He was thankful he had blundered through flirting with Keith on his first day of work, otherwise he might have been stupid enough to try flirting with her instead. 

Despite how beautiful Lance found her, Allura’s partner Romelle probably thought she was even prettier. 

Allura was a kick-ass boss, no-nonsense when she needed to be and fun when she could afford to. 

“Bad news,” Allura sat on a chair opposite them, daintily smoothing out her own peppermint apron. “The block is throwing a holiday event on Christmas night. The stores are opening and contributing to a sort of block party. I looked at this in every way I could, but we simply can’t afford to miss this event.”

Lance winced.

As loved as the toy store was, selling in-store was an antiquated business. The Christmas season was their most profitable time and Lance didn’t blame Allura for not wanting to miss an event. He slowly, with mounting horror, realized where this was going. 

Pidge and Hunk looked equally hesitant, while Keith hardly looked bothered at all. 

“So,” Allura smoothed out her apron again. “I will be here, obviously. Coran as well.”

The man in question offered a cheery grin in response. 

“But we will need at least one more person to work in the store,” Allura said softly. “From three to eight on Christmas night.”

Lance’s eyes widened at the very blasphemy of it. 

“Now,” Allura’s smile looked surprisingly nervous. “Thoughts on drawing straws?”

***

Lance tried to lean closer towards Allura’s closed fist, but Pidge swatted at him.

“No cheating!”

“I’m not cheating,” he protested. “I’m just getting a better look.”

“It’s supposed to be luck,” Keith said boredly.

“Yeah, but,” Lance squinted at the four coffee stirrers in her hand, “you never know.”

Allura smiled indulgently at him, tightly holding four stirrers, all cut off at different sizes. The employee who picked the shortest would have to work the Christmas shift. 

“Keith,” Allura said warmly. “Since you were the first to sign up for today’s overtime opening shift.”

Lance sputtered in outrage, he had been certain he was the first to offer. But he obliged, stepping back so Keith could reach the stirrers.

With a whiff of spicy cologne and a frankly insulting lack of concern, Keith gently pulled a random stirrer free. 

It looked short, short enough that Lance let out a sigh of relief. 

“Lance,” Allura offered them towards him.

Lance looked over the remaining three carefully, gauging how she was holding them, their stability, the way he felt about them, the way they maybe felt about him–

“Oh my God,” Pidge groaned. “Lance, pick one or I will kick your ass.”

“Hey,” Allura cautioned lightly, but Lance took the hint and carefully tugged one free.

Immediately he could tell it was shorter than Keith’s. He cleared his throat, trying to not Freak Out, and ignored Keith’s attempts to fold back a smile.

Hunk went next, chewing on his lip, and pulled out an entire coffee stirrer. 

Lance couldn’t even fault that, considering his best friend was actually an angel. But Pidge was a little gremlin and could survive a little working on Christmas. 

“I can feel you praying on my downfall,” Pidge muttered as Lance watched them reach for the last stirrer. 

And it stretched and stretched out of Allura’s hand.

“ No !” Lance dropped to his knees as Pidge and Keith let out matching snorts.

“Sorry, buddy,” Hunk said sympathetically. 

“Did I mention you get holiday pay?” Allura asked kindly. 

 ***

The instant Lance got his bearings, distracted himself with a couple really cute kids, took a well-deserved nap on his lunch break, he went in for the kill. 

“Keith,” he slammed his palms against the counter, causing Keith to nearly drop a bundle of ribbon.

“Jesus, Lance,” Keith snapped. “You scared me–”

“Trade shifts with me,” Lance said. “Name your price.”

Keith arched an eyebrow. “No.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “ No?”

“Just because I don’t like the holiday doesn’t mean I have places to be,” Keith said calmly. “Shiro’s hosting a whole thing, I told him I’d help.”

“Three shifts,” Lance said desperately. “No, no, four .”

Keith looked at him with pity. “You’re insane.”

“Five.”

“We all are working overtime all of December,” Keith crossed his arms. “When would you even work these shifts?” 

Lance thought this over. “I’ll do your laundry.”

Keith chuckled as he tucked the ribbon into the drawer, sliding it shut. “That’s just gross.”

“Name it, I’ll do it.”

“Why are you even asking me?” Keith asked.

“Because Hunk deserves a good Christmas,” Lance said, earning a nod of agreement from Keith. “And Pidge took me to kick rocks.”

“And you aren’t badgering them?”

“No, because I fear them.”

Keith tilted his head, showing every inch of his impressive jawline and dark hair. “And you’re not scared of me?”

(Lance ignored the sharp jut of his collarbones that, on most days, made his mouth water.) 

“I’ll make you lunch every day this month.”

“Lance,” Keith let out a shocked laugh. “This is crazy. Just work the shift.”

Lance scowled. “I can’t. I have a whole family thing that night.”

“Well, I do too.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “It’s bullshit that you get the day off. I bet you secretly like Christmas but you don’t want to admit it.”

Keith chuckled coldly. “I can assure you that there is nothing on this planet that would make me like Christmas.”

And that was when an insane idea formed.

“Okay,” Lance grinned. “Fine. You won’t take any favors for the shift. I get it.”

Keith nodded, shoulders relaxing as he turned away to tidy up the gift wrapping station. 

“How about a bet?”

Keith froze.

“If I can make you like the holidays by Christmas night, you’ll take the shift.”

Keith snorted, turning to face Lance. He kept that vaguely annoyed smile on his face, but nothing could hide the gleam of interest in his eyes.

“You’re not going to make that happen.”

“Okay,” Lance shrugged. “Then what’s the harm of taking the bet?”

Keith’s eyes rose to the ceiling, thinking. 

“And,” Lance rushed in, “ and I’ll sweeten the deal. I’ll work New Years as well.”

Now that got Keith’s attention. 

They had drawn straws for who would work New Years Day weeks ago. It was one of the worst shifts for a toy store. Being deathly hungover while listening to kids scream and toys screech was the stuff of nightmares. Keith had lost and was stuck with the shift. 

A slow grin tugged at Keith’s lips. “You’re insane.”

“I have a couple rules,” Lance held up three fingers. “First, you can’t just hide away in your little vampire coffin all month. You have to do Christmas things with me.”

“Fine.”

“Second, you can’t be a Grinch the whole time,” Lance said. “You need to be open to trying new things.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “And the third?”

“Easy,” Lance smirked. “You can’t fall in love with me. This is straight out of a Hallmark movie, so I would be careful.”

Keith let out a huff of a laugh. “God, you are going to be so pissed working New Years.”

Lance smiled innocently. “You are going to cry like a baby when you have to work Christmas.”

He held out his hand. 

“Do we have a deal?” 

Keith slicked his tongue over his teeth. 

And then his warm hand slipped into Lance’s and shook. 

Shout out to robylovi for this art! Check them out here!

Thank you to carterfarts on Tumblr for this art!  Check them out!

Thank you love_kl for the amazing cover art! Check them out!

Thank you medusagorgongirl101 for this playlist!: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0nHE3RGMJLRoViSDG9Lmaf?si=W7QZZB-8T_Kuj_ewJyPjzg

Thank you lesbiansofvoltron for this playlist!: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0nHE3RGMJLRoViSDG9Lmaf?si=W7QZZB-8T_Kuj_ewJyPjzg

Chapter Text

Lance was up half the night drafting his plan. 

Twenty-four days to make the most stubborn person he knew like Christmas. 

Not an easy task but Lance was equally, if not more, stubborn than Keith. He would win the bet even if it killed him. 

So, after a night of looking up the most Christmas-y things to do in their town, Lance waltzed into his shift with a spring in his step. 

Keith had enough sense to look worried, eyeing him cautiously. He looked especially ridiculous with his ripped jeans and hoodie wrinkled under the striped apron. His Santa hat had mysteriously disappeared and Lance made a mental note to buy him a new one. 

“Good morning,” Lance said sagely as he reached for his apron. “Or, should I say, Happy Holidays.”

Keith slowly slid his eyes shut. “I knew I would regret this.”

“Oh, now that’s not fair,” Lance said cheerfully. “We haven’t even begun. Spending the shift with me is just the appetizer, the soup before the salad.”

“Now I’m getting scared–”

“What are you doing tonight?”

Keith recoiled, blinking quickly. “What?” 

“Tonight,” Lance repeated expectantly. “Are you free?”

“I, uh–”

“Remember our rules,” Lance waggled his finger at him. “You can’t just hide away.”

Keith huffed. “I’m free.”

Lance grinned. “Perfect.”

With that, he glided towards the stairs to clock in. 

“You aren’t even going to tell me?” Keith called impatiently after him. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

***

“I’m gonna let you in on a secret,” Lance crouched next to the little girl as she wistfully peered down at the doll. “Santa actually stops by here on Christmas night.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really,” Lance nodded emphatically, ignoring Keith’s scoff from the gift wrapping table. “How else would he be able to deliver all the gifts for everyone? He has to stop at toy stores on the way to load up.”

Lance tapped the plastic box in her hands.

“And I’ll make sure to ask him to bring this to you, deal?” 

The girl nodded eagerly. 

Lance laughed and high-fived her, shooting a wink towards her relieved mom. 

He whistled his way back to where Keith was grumbling and savagely cutting a strip of wrapping paper. 

“Do you enjoy lying to children?” Keith asked. 

“Of course not,” Lance leaned on his elbows, smiling as he watched the girl and her mother continue shopping. “I do enjoy giving parents an out rather than having them explain to a four-year-old how they know Santa is already giving them that exact present.”

“Well, I think it’s stupid.”

Lance’s smile dropped. “Of course you do, because you hate all things fun and cheery.”

Keith continued his rather disastrous wrapping job. “Just tell the kid no and move on. They don’t need a fancy story about Santa everytime they can’t get a toy they want.”

Lance stared at him. “Did you take your personality straight from the Grinch or are you just a fan of him?”

Keith rolled his eyes. 

“Fine,” Lance held up his hands in defeat. “They may not need a story, but it’s nice. It adds to the Christmas magic.”

Keith hummed dully, slapping tape on the corners of the box.

“Make sure to get that chip off your shoulder before tonight,” Lance sang before darting away. 

Keith seemed determined to be in a bad mood for the rest of their shift. Lance would have been more annoyed if he wasn’t actively contributing to it. 

Every chance he could, he brought up Christmas in front of Keith. 

Whether it was chatting about wish lists or Santa or mentioning how poor Keith was definitely getting coal, he talked about it as much as possible. All to gauge Keith’s reaction, see exactly how much he could get that eye to twitch. 

Pidge and Hunk left him to his antics other than offering the curious glance towards him or Keith. Allura was thankfully too busy to hound him to stock faster and leave Keith alone. 

Finally, it was five in the afternoon, and the two of them were off the clock. 

Lance tried to not look so excited, rocking on the heels of his feet as Keith clocked out. 

“Look less like you are walking to a death sentence.”

Keith sighed, shouldering on his coat. “Will you finally tell me what we are doing?”

Lance grinned. “The first step to celebrating Christmas. I hope you like Christmas trees.”

***

Lance could hear Keith’s teeth chattering and thought that was a little overdramatic. 

“It’s not even snowing, Keith,” Lance sent a look his way. “Don’t get all Grinch on me.”

The glare Keith shot him would have been withering, if half his face wasn’t hidden in his hoodie, leaving only his big, sparkling eyes– 

Lance turned away, cleared his throat, and walked further into the Christmas tree farm. 

It wasn’t technically an actual farm, more of a pop-up shop where trees were presented. Lance had a feeling that if he took Keith to a place where they would have to actually cut down a tree, he would have the axe used against him. 

Families milled around them, all smiles and cheer as they pointed out different trees. String lights flickered above them and space heaters kept the cold night from being too miserable. Christmas music fluttered from speakers and it was all gorgeous and enough to make Lance grin. 

Keith didn’t look all that pleased but Lance had thought through everything. 

“Here,” he handed Keith a thermos from his bag. “Apple cider.”

“I don’t like–”

“ Heavy on the cider.”

After another pointed look, Keith got it. A whisper of a smile passed his lips as he unscrewed the lid. 

“I didn’t know the bet allowed liquoring me up.”

Lance shrugged. “You didn’t clarify that it wasn't allowed.”

Keith smiled into the thermos, taking a long swig.

He handed it to Lance with a nod of thanks. 

“I had to account for the screaming kids and smell of fertilizer,” Lance added.

“I was going to be gracious and not mention it.”

Lance snorted and Keith had a thin smile.

“Alright,” Keith rolled back his shoulders, looking around at the row of trees. “Let’s find a tree and get the hell out of here.”

Lance nodded in agreement, turning in a slow circle. 

“Let’s see,” he mumbled, tapping his chin. “Douglas is dense and soft, but can’t hold heavy ornaments. Noble is classic, sexy, strong limbs, but I doubt we will find any left. Frasier has never let me down but– what?”

Keith was gaping at him. “You know that much about Christmas trees?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Keith blinked. “This is bordering on a dangerous obsession.”

“Anyways,” Lance said impatiently. “What do you think?”

Keith squinted at him. “What do I think?” 

“Yes. I’m peer reviewing.”

Keith’s eye twitched. “They all look the same.”

“They do not,” Lance scolded.

He grabbed Keith’s shoulders and steered him further into the maze of trees, barely missing bowling over a little girl in an enormous puffy jacket. 

“Look at the branches,” Lance said. “The needles. Smell them. Feel them.” 

Keith’s shoulders were to his ears and Lance realized he probably wasn't all that into Lance being all over him.

“Look,” he released Keith and took the branch of a Douglas Fir. “Feel this.”

Keith doubtfully grazed his fingers over it. 

“And this one.”

Keith trailed his hand over a Balsam.

And they continued like that, walking through the farm and examining the trees. Keith eventually stopped fighting Lance on it, resolving to a quiet resignation. 

Once they had managed to agree that the Frasier trees were superior, Lance realized they hadn’t thought of the most important part.

“Oh shit,” he said loudly. “I didn’t even think about the height.”

“What do you mean?” Keith asked, lifting the thermos to his lips.

“Well, how tall are the ceilings in your apartment?”

Keith choked on the apple cider. 

He moved the thermos from his mouth, eyes streaming. “What?”

Lance stared at him. “This is for you.”

Keith gaped at him. “I thought we were shopping for you!”

“Please, I’ve had my tree since Thanksgiving.”

“You’re insane,” Keith’s face was getting that pinched look again. “I don’t want a tree.”

Lance frowned, crossing his arms. “You promised you wouldn’t Grinch.”

“This isn’t me Grinching,” Keith said hotly. “You don’t want to see me Grinch.”

Lance narrowed his eyes.

“I’m playing the part,” Keith argued. “I’m being nice and walking around with freezing toes and listening to ear splitting Christmas music but I’m not getting a tree.”

“Keith–”

“ Lance ,” Keith snapped, voice as sharp as a knife. 

Lance took a step back. 

Because this wasn’t the typical annoyed Keith. His cheeks were flushed and lips thin and Lance could tell that he was working really hard to keep things appropriate enough for the little ears around them. 

“They make needles go everywhere and are sticky and they are a terrible fire hazard,” Keith continued, each word clipped. 

“Okay,” Lance held up his hands in defeat. “Okay. No tree. You got it.”

Keith glared at him for a moment longer before his shoulders lowered. He gave one resolute nod, spinning on his heel and marching back through the farm. 

Lance watched him for a moment, a bead of sweat running down his back. 

It was the first day of the bet and things were already crashing and burning. He didn’t realize that Keith hated Christmas so much . He had to fix this, and fast.

“Keith!” He called after him, breaking into a jog and following the black hood through the crowd. 

Gravel crunched under his breath as he finally caught up to where Keith was walking quickly towards his car. 

Rather than angry, Keith now just looked tired.

“Listen,” Lance stumbled to get in front of him, slowing Keith’s determined pace. “That was a flub on my part. My bad. Give me one more hour.”

Keith’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Another hour ?”

“Please,” Lance said desperately. “One hour.”

Keith stopped short. He folded his arms across his chest and slid his jaw from side to side, deciding. 

Lance’s brain decided at that moment to very inappropriately mention how cute Keith looked with a nose red from the cold. 

“Fine,” Keith groaned.

Lance grinned. 

***

“God, you really know how to make a guy enjoy the holidays.”

“ Can it, Scrooge.”

Keith looked ready to retaliate, until a haggard mother wheeled past them with at least three under three in her cart. 

They shared a glance, decided to both can it, and turned back to the array of plastic Christmas trees.

Target was in a reckoning, loud and chaotic and far too busy for eight at night. 

Lance swallowed, hoping he hadn’t blown it completely. 

But Keith was at least used to the madness of a store near Christmas, looking almost unbothered as careful gray eyes scanned the cardboard boxes.

“I could get a rainbow one,” he deadpanned. 

Lance felt his lips twitch. “Bring some pride to Christmas.”

“Funny,” Keith shuddered. 

“How about the one with the lights so LED they are blue?”

“Don’t make me vomit.”

“Oh,” Lance pulled out a cardboard box depicting a tree that was the most violent shade of orange he had ever seen. “It’s perfect.”

“Nasty.”

Keith was smiling now too, a small turn of his lips but Lance felt a surge of excitement. 

Especially since that haunted anger had left his eyes. 

“Maybe I’ll keep it simple and get a silver one,” Keith drawled, jabbing his thumb towards a box. “It’ll bring out the color of my eyes.”

“Are you admitting you’ll show off your tree?” 

“Sure. There’ll be an entry fee at the door, of course.”

Lance laughed, loud and free.

Keith turned away but Lance swore he spotted his smile turn into something pleased.

But then Keith paused, looked up, and let out a small laugh.

“It’s perfect.”

He pointed at a beaten up box tucked in the corner, emblazoned with a picture depicting an unmistakably black tree. The needles, branches, stand, everything, as black as the night outside. Silver lights were threaded into the branches, all Keith would have to do was stick it in a corner of his apartment and fluff it. 

Lance felt a slow grin cross his face. “As black as your soul.”

“Definitely.”

Keith was smiling, eyes flashing with mirth. Lance watched him strain for the box, looking happier than he had all night. All from a mashed up black plastic tree. 

Smiling looked good on him.

Keith hefted the tree onto his shoulder and looked at Lance expectantly. “This is on you, right?”

Fair enough. 

“Sure.”

Keith nodded, satisfied as he turned to walk down the aisle.

“Need anything else?”

“Nope.”

“You sure? I’m sure we could find a hippo ornament.” 

“Shut up.” 

Shout out to remithestankyrat for this adorable art! Check out more of their stuff! https://www.tumblr.com/remithestankyrat

Chapter Text

“Right, okay,” Hunk nodded slowly. “Run this by me again.”

“Okay,” Lance leaned forward, aligning his fingertips together. 

“So you are just so bothered that Keith doesn’t like Christmas that you have personally inserted yourself into the thick of it.”

“Right.”

“And in a misguided attempt to get your Christmas shift covered, you are instead going to spend the rest of your free time in your favorite season convincing a lovable but self-admitted stick in the mud to like Christmas?”

“You’re all clear so far.”

“And if you manage the small miracle of making him like the holidays or if he just takes pity on you, he’ll work the shift for you.”

“Yup.”

“And if he stays a hater, you’ll not only work Christmas but also New Years?”

Lance grinned. “You’ve got it all down.”

Hunk stared at him. “And why are you doing this?”

“Because he’s obsessed with Keith,” Pidge called from the couch. 

“I am not!” Lance spun in a self-righteous circle on the stool to glare at them. 

Pidge leveled a look over their Nintendo Switch. “You spent the elevator ride up to your apartment talking about how hot he looked when he was close to strangling you.”

“So? I call Hunk hot all the time. I flirt with Allura every second I have space to breathe. I would compliment you if I didn’t want a shin to the crotch.”

“Fair,” Hunk allowed.

Lance grinned in victory as Pidge squinted at him.

“It feels different with Keith,” Pidge said slowly, scanning him up and down. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Look,” Lance leaned back, resting his elbows on the counter. “The way I see it, it’s a win-win. Keith and I have been doing this strange dance for over a year now–”

“By strange dance, you mean genuine dislike of each other–”

“ And ,” Lance cut Pidge off, “it’ll be good for us to hang. Put some of that ol’ tension behind us. And I’m certain I can get him to like Christmas. I already got him to get a tree. How hard can it possibly be?” 

***

Keith looked incredulous. “You’re asking me if I’m free again ?” 

“Well,” Lance tilted his head. “Yeah.”

To emphasize his point, Lance rolled the sparkly white ornament closer to Keith. A silent reminder of just how seriously he was taking this. He had a feeling that Keith wouldn’t decorate his tree on his own, so Lance made sure to pluck one off his own tree. No biggie, he had a million of them and this one in particular didn’t fit his color scheme for the year.

Keith looked at the ornament as if it would bite him. 

“We hung out yesterday. I have a tree.”

“We’ve got a tight schedule,” Lance said patiently. “You’ll be seeing a lot of me this month.”

Keith could have maybe looked a little less disappointed at that.

“Lance!” Allura called over Castleship’s balcony. “I could use your help with inventory!”

“On it!” Lance clapped Keith’s shoulder. “We will chat later!”

He bounded up the steps, leaving Keith sputtering behind him. 

Allura watched him with an amused smile as she handed him a clipboard. “You’ve been particularly interested in Keith as of late.”

“Well, of course,” Lance said with an emphatic nod. “The poor guy doesn’t love Christmas. He’s not good for our brand.”

“Ah,” there was something strange in Allura’s smile. “Well, I appreciate you being so focused on our public image.”

“What can I say?” Lance extended his arms. “I’m a team player.” 

Allura merely laughed and left him to it. 

Lance set to work accounting their products and comparing it to future deliveries. Their order size had almost doubled in size to prepare for the holidays. The time went by quickly, all things considering, mainly because Lance spent most of his inventorying thinking about Keith. 

Or, to be more accurate, what to do next with Keith. 

Things had gotten tedious while Christmas tree shopping, so Lance had to be careful. If he just plunged Keith into a mess of Christmas cheer, he would get all prickly and closed off again. 

And Lance really didn’t want to see that again. 

They could start off easy. Maybe they could make paper snowflakes or bake cookies or wrap presents. Something that was just a taste, just a little dip. 

Lance frowned at the clipboard. 

But he couldn’t play it safe all month. There was no way he would win the bet if they just hung ornaments all of December. 

Besides, he wasn’t showing Keith Christmas for the first time. No, he was changing his mind. 

Lance chewed on the end of the pen, knocking his teeth in tune to the Christmas music that streamed from the speakers. His eyes trailed down from the balcony to where Keith was stocking a shelf of dolls. 

His hands carefully organized the row of plastic dolls, turning them at an exact angle. A pair of little girls hovered behind him, gaping up at the dolls with big eyes. 

After a moment, Keith noticed them. For a moment, he froze, clearly unsure what to do. 

Then, he bent down towards them. 

Intrigued, Lance found himself leaning towards the balcony for a closer look, wishing he could hear what Keith was saying to them. 

Until Keith pointed them to the stack of colorful cardstock they kept for children to use for Christmas lists. 

Lance grinned. Maybe that ice cold heart was melting a little. 

His eyes trailed to the windows at the front, long panes of glass glimmering and glittering with–

Lance let out a cry of delight, pulling the eyes of every customer and employee in the store towards him. He didn’t care, grinning wildly. 

“It’s snowing!”

***

The rest of the work day was essentially useless. 

Which was to be expected, when Lance was glancing at the windows every other minute to gauge the snow. The staff had to work fast when the snow first began to fall. They pulled out mats for their entrances and arranged their positions in the store to make sure that customers were kindly advised to stomp off the snow. Customers rushed in, smiling and excited from the snow, causing the store to get a lot louder. 

Lance wasn’t the only one distracted. Hunk and Pidge kept glancing towards the windows, peering down at the growing piles of snow. Coran looked more cheerful than ever and even Allura seemed a little excited for the day to end. 

Sure enough, white was billowing down in promising heaps. It was sticking to the ground for now, long enough to guarantee at least one solid snowball fight that night. 

The only person that wasn’t desperately waiting for the shift to end was Keith. 

He looked barely affected, continuing with his shift without a care in the world that there was a winter wonderland blooming outside.

Once they closed their doors, all stuffed in their thick winter jackets for the night, the staff of Castleship Toys braved the snow. 

The gust of damp, cold air ripped through Lance’s bones, sending a hoarse chatter between his teeth. But he hardly cared, chattering through a grin as he tilted his face up towards the snow. The snow brushed along his face like cold fingertips, with the gentlest bite from the chill. 

The street was alive with families, some laughing and enjoying the snow while others hurried into shops to avoid it. 

Speaking of avoiding it– 

Lance snatched the back of Keith’s hoodie.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

Keith groaned, tilting back his head in resignation. 

“I can’t believe you tried to sneak away,” Lance scolded. 

Keith’s hair felt soft as it brushed against his hand. 

Lance focused back in. 

“You can’t just scamper away while it’s actively snowing, I mean–”

Lance was cut off by a freezing ball of mush that hit him in the back of the head. 

He let out an affronted gasp, dropping Keith’s hoodie and whirling around to where Pidge was cackling. Hunk looked decently sheepish next to them.

“I told them not to do it.”

“Oh, you are asking for snow down your shirt!” 

Lance raked up handfuls of snow, ignoring the sharp tingle in his fingers from the cold, and lunged towards Pidge. With a shriek, they batted his hands away but not before he got a decent handful up their sleeve. 

“You– suck–,” Pidge fought out between laughs. 

“Yeah, that’s what all the boys say.”

“Ew, Lance!” Pidge groaned before pelting another handful of snow at him. 

“Stop hitting me! Hit Hunk, look at him, standing there all tall and handsome.”

“Whoa, don’t drag me into this!”

It was too late, Hunk ducking away from two snowballs thrown his way. 

The battle ensued. There wasn’t a lot of snow, Lance’s fingers were already beginning to scrape through to the pavement below the freshly fallen white, but he didn’t care. 

It was snowing and Christmas heaved in the air. 

He spun around, remembering that there was a new guest to their post-shift snowball fights. Keith had turned away, hands shoved in his pockets, walking towards the bookstore to the left of Castleship. 

Lance stared at him, heart rising to his throat, and took the risk. 

He balled the snow up in his hands and threw it as hard as he could. It smacked against the back of Keith’s head. 

Keith froze. Hunk’s and Pidge’s gasps of shock could be heard over the chatter in the street.

“It was Hunk,” Lance said.

It was a ridiculous lie, so clearly not true it was a little funny. 

Lance waited, palms facing the ground, ready to either hold them up in apology or drop and hastily collect snow. 

He waited and hoped that Keith took the first two rules of the bet to heart.

He waited and started to get a little nervous and turned to Pidge and Hunk for help and–

Snow smacked against his ear and jaw. 

“Sorry,” Keith called. “I was trying to get Hunk back.”

Keith’s face was the picture of innocence, a furrow in his brow expertly faking guilt and concern. But there was that clever gleam in his eyes that Lance had grown quite fond of.
Pidge and Hunk stared at Keith like he was a stranger. 

Lance let out a wild cackle and dove towards the snow. Keith followed, the two of them dropping to their knees and feverishly balling up snow. They didn’t even bother rising to their feet before proceeding to pelt each other with snowballs. 

Keith got Lance in the nose, leaving him sneezing as he aimed between Keith’s eyes. Keith ducked, underhanding a snowball into Lance’s laughing mouth. 

Lance choked on snow and staggered towards Keith with a bloodthirsty cry. His face was numb, lips chapping at a rapid rate. But he could still feel the wild smile growing on his face. 

He flung two handfuls of snow at Keith, who hopped to his feet and easily darted away. 

Lance spun, dipping towards the ground and blocking with his back to hastily cake snow together. 

With three in the crook of his arm, he whirled back to Keith and pelted his neck and ear, just hoping some of it would slip down his shirt. 

Behind him, he could hear Hunk bellowing at Pidge to not soak snowballs with water.

He probably could have helped his best bud stop Pidge from turning snowballs into deadly weapons, but he was more preoccupied with getting a solid amount of snow down Keith’s pants. 

Keith must have followed his line of vision and thinking and smirked.

“Don’t even try it, you’ll get snow up your nose for your troubles.”

With that, he threw a snowball he had hidden behind his back right into Lance’s face. 

“ Of course you are good at this!” Lance yelled, wishing he could be angry but found himself grinning like an idiot. 

“Is it possible to be bad at throwing snowballs?” Keith returned. 

“You’d be surprised,” Lance threw another snowball just to have Keith swat it away. “Apparently I’m ass at it.”

That caused a genuine laugh to leave Keith’s mouth and it floored Lance so violently he was essentially defenseless. His freezing hands dropped into the slush around him as he gaped at Keith’s wide grin and flushed cheeks. 

Pidge and Hunk finally took pity on him. The three of them descended onto Keith with a storm of snowballs. Keith at first was able to duck away and knock the snow back with surprising agility. 

Keith finally threw up his hands in surrender, his smile returning to something small and indulging. 

All panting and soaked through, they staggered to their feet.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Lance told Keith, “I’d say you were having fun.”

“Maybe,” Keith shrugged. “Too bad it doesn’t count.”

Lance’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “ What ?”

“A snowball fight has nothing to do with Christmas,” Keith said, face a little too smug. “It’s a winter activity.”

“Oh, you suck.”

“Probably,” Keith agreed. 

He offered Lance one of those rare smiles, hesitant but real. 

“Good night, Lance.”

“Night.”

Lance turned to where Pidge was shivering and begging Hunk for a piggyback ride home. 

When he looked over his shoulder, he saw Keith walking away.

Twirling the sparkly white ornament around his finger. 

Thank you love-kl!!! Click here to view @love-kl's art!

Chapter Text

Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Lance knew how to read a room. 

He knew when to watch his step, when to be quiet, when to kindly fuck off to avoid getting punched.

Which is why he abruptly stopped cheerfully whistling the moment he turned into the staff lounge to see Keith sitting on the floor, face buried in a textbook. 

The staff lounge was a common study spot. It was relatively quiet with a comfortable ambience from the store, soft furniture, and a coffee pot that was probably older than Coran. Lance had even come when he wasn’t working to study– it was close enough to campus that he could stop by and not have to worry about searching for a free spot in the library. 

Hunk even kept one of his textbooks here, while Pidge’s locker was always filled with random harddrives filled with practice code for their classes. Allegedly, there were energy drinks hidden somewhere in the room for anyone desperate enough to pay Pidge for one. Lance had had his fair share of school-related mental breakdowns in this room. 

But none of the studying he had witnessed looked as frantic as this. 

Without looking up from the page he was hunched over, Keith threw out his hand towards Lance.

“Don’t.”

Lance held up the hand not holding his coffee. “Wasn’t gonna do anything.”

“Don’t even think about doing anything,” Keith flipped a page, chewing on the end of a highlighter. “Don’t even breathe near me today. I have a final in twenty-two hours and I’m so screwed.”

Lance gave a decisive nod. 

Fair enough. 

Lance wouldn’t want to see himself either, considering he was bright-eyed and drunk off freedom. 

He had just finished his last final for the semester with enough time to spare to stop by the cafe next door before his shift. He had walked to work with a skip in his step, happily noting that the snow had stuck around and was continuing to gather on the corners of the sidewalk. Now he had over four weeks of pure Christmas bliss.

Keith, on the other hand, looked awful. 

He looked exhausted and stressed, chewing on his bottom lip and flipping hastily through the textbook. He was wearing joggers and a hoodie that looked suspiciously like the one he was wearing yesterday (not that Lance was cataloging his outfits or anything). His apron was thrown on the couch, clearly carelessly ripped off the second he got on break. 

Lance scanned a few lines of the passing pages of the textbook and saw a lot of brain-melting sentences about philosophers. 

He took a long, considering, look at his coffee.

A longer look at Keith. 

He sighed, chiding God for making him such a giving person. 

Finally, he leaned down and placed his cup on the coffee table next to where Keith was sitting. 

Lance had already leaned away, out of Keith’s bubble, and took two steps back before Keith seemed to notice. He blinked, looking at the cup strangely before squinting at Lance.

Lance shrugged. “You need it more than I do.”

Keith tilted his head, lips parting in surprise. “No, I can’t–”

“Please,” Lance was taking long steps to the door, shrugging off his coat and tossing it in the general direction of the coat rack. “I insist.”

“Lance–”

“I can’t hear you!” Lance called on his way down the stairs. “Too busy not thinking about doing anything!”

***

And Lance continued his day. 

His shift was going pretty well. Kids were back in school for the week, so the day was slow aside from the determined parent clutching a phone full of screenshots of requested toys.

He didn’t mind these shifts. Sometimes it was nice to chill, twirl on the stool behind the register, organize the key chains by color order, alphabetize the dolls, so on. 

Things were quiet, snow was falling, and “All I Want for Christmas” was playing on the radio. Life was good. 

Lance bobbed his head in tune to the beat. “God, kill it, Mariah. How much do you think she makes during December?”

Pidge drew an X on the sheet in between them, brow creased in concentration. “Enough to make me sick.”

Lance nodded in agreement. He was in the middle of a pretty intense game of tic-tac-toe with Pidge when Keith marched down the stairs. 

His brow was furrowed and he looked almost angry. And he was headed straight for Lance.

As he got closer, he lifted up the cup Lance left. 

A noticeably empty cup.

“Hey Keith,” Lance checked his watch. “You’ve got enough time left on your break to go and be scary somewhere else so–” 

“What was this?” Keith demanded.

“Coffee?” Lance drew a circle in an open square. 

“That studying really dug into your brain, huh?” Pidge commented, drawing a X.

“The flavor,” Keith insisted. “What the hell was it?”

“It, uh, oh .”

Lance sucked his lips into his mouth to curb the smile. In his move of generosity, he had forgotten that he had gotten the most Christmas-y drink on the menu as a treat.

And the drink was gone. Drained completely.  

“Why?”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “I’m curious.”

“First,” Lance knitted his fingers together and dropped his chin on them. “Admit it was good.”

Keith’s lips thinned stubbornly. 

“C’mon, Keithers,” Lance said, voice lifting with delight. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that there was a Christmas drink that actually tastes good.”

“You’re insufferable.” 

“Share your dirty little secret,” Lance was on a roll now. “Tell me how delicious it was. Did it make your day? Did it melt a little bit of that ice around your Christmas-hating heart?” 

“Oh good,” Pidge deadpanned as they drew a line through their X’s, winning their third game in a row. “The two most stubborn idiots I know in a standoff.”

Keith didn’t acknowledge their comment, too busy eyeing Lance’s bright smile with doubtful consideration.

“If you don’t tell me,” Lance sang. “I won’t tell you what it is or where I got it.”

Keith puckered his lips in response. Lance smiled brightly at him. “Joy to the World” blared from their speakers and Lance had half a mind to join in. 

“Fine,” Keith grumbled, crossing his arms. “It wasn’t bad.”

Lance spun in victory. 

“Well, Keith, that would be a Candy Cane Dirty Chai Latte with oat milk and extra peppermint. It’s from Balmera’s . Tell Shay to put a little extra love in it and it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever drank.”

Keith looked gobsmacked. “I swear you are talking in a different language.”

Pidge snickered but Lance was beginning to feel a little smug.

Keith looked down at the cup, enlightened. 

“So,” Lance stroked his chin. “You’re a peppermint guy, but not with chocolate. Fascinating.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Shut up. What do I owe you for the coffee?”

“Oh please,” Lance only grinned further. “Don’t worry about it. I’m feeling the Christmas spirit.”

***

Every moment he wasn’t helping customers, Keith was poring over his textbook. 

And he had drunk not one, not two, but three of the lattes. He had bribed both Pidge and Hunk to stop by the cafe on their breaks. Hunk was happy to oblige, planning to visit his girlfriend anyways. Lance didn’t even want to know how much Pidge charged for the trip. 

He would have felt bad for Keith, if he didn’t feel victorious. The poor man was addicted, eyes scanning the pages rapidly with the cup never too far from his mouth. To think, the Christmas-themed item Keith liked the most so far was introduced completely by accident.  

“I think you may have a problem,” Lance said mildly as Keith took a long swig. 

Keith shrugged, leaning his arms against the counter and stretching his shoulders. “It’s your fault.”

“If anything, I’m an accessory,” Lance grinned. “A sparkly one.”

Keith offered him an unimpressed look before returning to his notes. 

The store was dead. It was too close to dinner and a school night’s bedtime for them to see many customers, and Pidge was doing inventory upstairs with Allura. Hunk and Coran had been blessed with the morning shifts and were long gone. 

That left Lance, hopelessly bored, and Keith, hopelessly boring. 

It didn’t help that Lance’s thoughts kept drifting to yesterday. It was almost impossible to match the snow-soaked, laughing Keith with the quiet, stressed coworker he was seeing today. His head couldn’t seem to get it together either. Whenever he thought about Keith, grinning like a wolf as he shoved snow in Lance’s face, his stomach swooped like a bird. It must have been the excitement of Christmas snow and his bizarre bet with Keith getting all tangled up in his feelings. 

“Why are you so stressed about this exam anyways?” Lance asked, sliding the broom lazily against the ground. “You’re like the smartest person I know.”

“Well, it’s apparently long as hell and,” Keith cut himself off, looking up with a confused look on his face. “You think I’m smart?”

Lance froze. The sleepy quiet of the store had caused him to get a little too relaxed, a little too sloppy. 

But it was true. Keith’s major was some humanities degree that he had explained once and Lance gave up understanding and instead hastily nodded along. While Lance was barely trucking through his third year in a biology major, Keith was due to graduate in May. 

He had this quiet brilliance about him. He didn’t rub it in (much), Lance only realized how smart he was by eavesdropping on his conversations with Pidge or peeking at whatever homework he had in the staff lounge. 

And now here he was, throwing out compliments like they were candy. 

“I mean,” he tried to stay casual, sweeping with a little more intention. “Yeah.” 

He could feel Keith’s eyes on him and stared extra hard at the pile of dirt he was making.

“Thanks?”

Lance wanted to dissolve into the dirt pile, actually.

“So,” he said, desperate to move on, “tell me about this exam. Why does it have your knickers in a twist?”

Keith huffed. “It’s almost seventy percent of my grade.”

“Yikes,” Lance winced. “Why did you take a double shift the day before it?”

Keith’s hesitation caused Lance to remember that was None of His Fucking Business.

“I’m trying to save up money,” Keith offered simply, picking at the corner of his textbook. “Get something cool for my brother.”

Lance’s jaw dropped into an open-mouth grin, leaning eagerly against the broom. “For Christmas?”

Keith’s lack of answer was enough of a confirmation.

“I didn’t realize you were such a precious angel.”

“Funny,” Keith said dryly. “And relax, I’m just following societal expectations.”

Lance raised an eyebrow but Keith seemed content to end the conversation there. 

Lance’s shift ended as quietly as it started. He finished sweeping and took most of the cash from the register up to the vault, leaving Keith with enough to manage a couple more cash sales.

He entered Allura’s office with a wry wiggle of his fingers, earning an obliging smile from where she was sitting at her desk, flicking through sales reports. 

“Is the Christmas spirit being kind to us?”

“Very much so,” her eyes twinkled as she shuffled the papers. “Will still need you on Christmas, though.”

Lance groaned dramatically as he trudged towards the vault. 

He deposited the cash and left her office, a soft giggle trailing behind him.  

As he clocked out and slid on his coat, he hesitated. His fingers slipped into his pocket and wrapped around the cool glass of the ornament.

Don’t even think about doing anything. 

Did that still count? After Keith had three candy cane lattes and much more relaxed shoulders? 

Lance thought it over, then decided that since his risk yesterday paid off, it was worth a try.

So as he left, without saying anything, without looking at him, Lance rolled a bright red ornament across the counter towards Keith. 

As he left the store, Lance found that he was holding his breath. 

Which was stupid, really. Keith didn’t like Christmas, Lance knew this. So he probably wouldn’t give two shits about the ornament, probably only took the one Lance gave him yesterday to be polite.

But Keith didn’t really do polite.

“Good luck tomorrow!” He called over his shoulder in an attempt to soothe the sharp silence. 

As he walked out into the snow, Lance heard the dull chime of the ornament being carefully picked up. 

Chapter Text

Castleship Toys was under siege.

Or that’s at least what it felt like.

“Oh, wait!” Lance lunged, Santa hat slipping into his eyes as he snagged his arm around a three-year-old attempting to run away with hands covered with glue. 

Theo leaned into his knees, giggling as Lance pulled out a wet wipe from the pack in his jeans and cleaned his hands.

“I think your mom wouldn’t be a fan of gluey hands all over her car,” Lance chuckled, carefully wiping each tiny finger. “Hunk, get rid of the glue.”

“On it!” 

Hunk reached over two little girls invested in organizing their sequins by color order and plucked up the spilled bottle of glue, quickly replacing it with a handful of glue sticks. 

The typical display in the middle of the store had been pushed to the side to make room for the long wooden table, outfitted with a dozen colorful stools that were currently either abandoned or turned over. The kids were either so focused they were now standing, leaning so close to their projects their noses were nearly touching, or trying to flee covered in glue or paint. 

Once a week, they offered an arts and crafts class in the afternoon. It was always fully booked, parents more than happy to drop off their child for an hour and get some shopping done in the area. It was an easy cash grab and not that hard to pull off. 

As long as Hunk or Lance were available to run it, at least. Pidge outwardly refused and Keith often was quick enough to think of an excuse. It was typically for the best, Pidge and Keith typically ran their craft sessions like the navy. 

With Hunk and Lance, it was more loose and fun. That was how Lance liked it. He didn’t mind working the crafting shift, it was fun and the hour-long class, including set-up and clean-up, caused half his shift to fly past. 

And he liked the kids and, after babysitting his niece and nephew so many times, was a pro preschool handler. 

But even this craft threatened to defeat him. 

Lance steered Theo back towards the table, looking at Hunk with wide eyes. Hunk looked equally as shell-shocked, paint covering his hands from hastily blocking spill after spill.

“Never again.”

Hunk huffed out a laugh. “Never again.” 

Lance sighed and continued to help the kids build their ornaments. 

To be fair, it was a cute idea. They had small wooden circles and just about anything you could use to decorate: paint, sequins, feathers, fabric, glitter, pom-poms, ribbon. 

Admittedly, they probably should have limited the selection. 

“Stacy!” Hunk leaned over the table. “Stacy, do not eat the pom-poms.”

It was like whack-a-mole. The second Lance had a kid seated and crafting, another popped up, eager to show him their ornament so far or asking for help. 

There was a dull pop and Lance felt a lot of something hit his back. 

“Oh Lance,” Hunk winced. 

Lance didn’t even have to look. “Glitter?”

“Yep.”

“Covering the entire back of my jeans?”

“Looks like it.”

Lance hung his head.

“We need reinforcements,” he said grimly.

Hunk held up a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors, on who has to call them.”
 

***

It felt like a miracle the moment Keith and Pidge walked into the store. 

The kids paused in their chaos, immediately spinning to look at them. 

“You so owe me,” Pidge huffed, marching overing and taking a stool. 

They had made that quite clear on the phone. Lance’s wallet was already weeping. 

They reached for one of the wooden circles and grabbed a handful of sequins. The kids around them peered at them curiously. 

Lance felt his shoulders relax. This was all they needed. Just a couple adults to craft with the kids and shift the power balance back to their side. 

With incredible dexterity, they started to glue each sequin in what looked like a DNA strand. Stacy watched with awe, ribbon tangled in her pigtails. 

“Hey,” Keith dropped on the stool next to Lance. “Were you aware you have glitter all over your a–”

“Shh!” Lance cut him off. “Little ears.”

Keith leveled a smirk his way. “New fashion statement?”

“Sure,” Lance said dryly. “I’m calling it ‘losing control of my workplace’.” 

Keith let out a soft laugh at that. “Theo, glue me.”

Theo, looking a little starstruck, handed Keith a glue stick.

“No,” Keith shook his head. “I’m an adult so I get the cool glue.”

Theo’s little face grew pinched before trudging to where the confiscated glue sat on the counter.

Lance fought a laugh as Keith took it with a nod of thanks.

He watched Keith lazily weave glue along the edges of the ornament before flipping it over and sliding it along the mess of glitter and sequins. The kids watched with wide eyes, all quiet and attentive, as Keith flipped his ornament back up to show a chaotic splash of shining color. Somehow crafting and keeping the kids entertained while cleaning up at the same time. 

Lance was still a little shocked he even got Keith to come in the first place. He had expected him to be either in a post-finals coma or drunk. He definitely hadn’t expected for him to pick up while hanging with Pidge in the bookstore next door. 

And he certainly didn’t think he would actually come. 

He looked so comfortable, wearing sweatpants and a college sweatshirt with battered Converse. Most of his ear piercings were in, which only enchanted the kids more. Typically, he took some out while on shift. 

“Thanks,” Lance said quietly as Keith helped Theo stick a pom-pom on his ornament. “I was losing the room.”

Keith cracked a smile. “I figured.” 

Keith moved his finger from the pom and Theo hesitantly flicked it. It stayed on. 

“The magic of glue when it’s not all over your hands,” Keith said. 

Theo nodded in amazement. A soft smile crossed Keith’s lips. 

Lance tore his gaze away. His stomach was twisting in a strange flip. He needed to chill out, it was probably just him coming down from a hectic shift. 

But his stomach kept shifting, sliding, somehow in time to every time his and Keith’s elbows brushed. 

Keith and Pidge saved the day, keeping the kids preoccupied while Hunk and Lance carefully wrapped up each ornament in plastic wrap for the drive home. 

Once every last kid was picked up, Lance turned to thank them again, maybe drop to his knees and offer them his firstborn in payment. 

Only to watch Keith carelessly toss the ornament he made in the trash. 

“No!” Lance cried out, causing three pairs of eyes to snap to him. 

“What?”

“You just threw away your own craft?”

Keith looked at him like he lost his mind. “Yes?”

“You could have put it on your tree!”

“I’ll survive, Lance.”

Lance had an uncomfortable vision of Keith’s weird black emo tree being shoved in the back of a closet or in a car trunk. 

“You’re Grinching.”

“I’m not!” Keith sputtered. “I just made an ornament. With children. I’m damn near Santa Claus.”

“Santa Claus would never throw away an ornament he made.”

“Well, Santa would be too high in the corporate hierarchy of the North Pole to even see the manufacturing, so–”

“Are you seriously making Santa capitalist right now?”

“Is he not ?” 

“As fun as this is,” Pidge cut in, Hunk and them watching the volley with wide eyes. “Hunk is buying me several drinks for saving your sorry asses. Care to join?”

“Sure,” Keith said, jerking a thumb towards Lance. “He’s buying.”

***

“So,” Hunk said, his voice barely decipherable over the rush of noise in the bar. 

Lance arched an eyebrow, noting that his best friend was currently fiddling with a straw wrapper and doing his darndest to not make eye contact.

“Yes?”

“Keith is here,” Hunk twirled the wrapper around his finger. 

Lance’s eyes involuntarily darted to where Keith and Pidge were waiting at the bar to order their drinks. Pidge was talking quickly, hands moving as they spoke, and Keith was listening with a small, indulgent smile. 

“Lance.”

Keith’s teeth glinted as his smile widened ever so slightly. 

“Lance.”

“Hm?”

“Keith’s here,” Hunk repeated meaningfully. “With you.”

Lance blinked. “With us, you mean.”

Hunk shrugged his large shoulders. “Do I?”

Lance stared at Hunk, confused. “Hunk, I’ve lived like ten lives today. It’s like you are speaking a different language.”

Something exasperated crossed Hunk’s face and he opened his mouth to respond. But before he could say anything, Pidge and Keith returned, each holding two beers. 

“Lance,” Pidge said. “You won’t believe what’s on the menu.”

Keith groaned as he slid into the booth next to Lance. Their arms touched and Lance swore he could feel Keith’s body heat through the fabric. 

Pidge’s grin grew. “Eggnog.”

Lance straightened, attentively scanning the menu and, sure enough, there it was emblazoned on a chalkboard dotted with drawings of snowflakes and holly.

“Well,” Lance said matter-of-factly. “We have to get it.”

Hunk and Keith chorused in sighs while Pidge laughed evilly.

“Welcome, Keith,” Hunk said forlornly, “to the most intense debate of our friendship.”

“It’s not a debate,” Lance said. “You’re just wrong.”

“Eggnog is gross,” Hunk said firmly. “And I like everything, so, I think I’m probably right.”

“I’m siding with Hunk on this one,” Keith took a sip of his beer.

“Well,” Lance turned to him, “have you ever actually tried it?”

Keith slicked his tongue over his teeth, and took another sip of his beer.

“That’s what I thought,” Lance slapped his hands eagerly against the table. “Let’s pop Keith’s eggnog cherry.”

“ Ew , Lance.”

“Don’t get more than one,” Hunk warned him.

Lance was already scrambling out of the booth, hurrying to the bar. He felt like he could breathe better, focus more as he offered a brilliant smile to the bartender. 

“Four eggnogs please.”

His wallet wept louder. 

The groans that met him when he returned with four heaping glasses of eggnog were a little dramatic, in Lance’s opinion.

“I’m so gonna puke,” Hunk muttered dejectedly. 

“Don’t be a coward,” Lance slid back into the booth. “Bottoms up, Hunky.”

Keith was grimacing down at his own glass. 

“Don’t listen to Hunk,” Lance reasoned. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Keith shot him an incredulous look. “Hunk is almost a completely certified chef. I know for a fact that he knows what he’s talking about.”

Hunk paused from his disgusted faces and looked up in interest. “You know that?”

Keith looked surprised. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Rather than answering, Hunk plugged his nose and took a swig of the eggnog. Lance followed suit, Pidge right behind. 

Lance took a long, satisfying gulp, relishing in the sweet cream and bite of liquor. 

Keith, with a deep suit, took a tentative sip.

Immediately, his face went green. 

“Bullshit, no way people like this.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. 

Hunk nodded in agreement. 

“No way,” Lance said in shock. “It’s not that bad.”

Keith looked horrified as Pidge took another eager sip of their own. 

Pidge started giggling hysterically, an eggnog mustache on their lips.

“Look at that,” Keith shuddered. “Hunk is right and Lance is a masochist, who is surprised?”

Hunk patted Keith’s hand consolingly. 

Lance lifted his glass. "To the end of finals and a hell of a Christmas."

The resulting toast of Hunk and Keith clinking their glasses with matching winces was a little unnecessary, in Lance's opinion. 

***

A couple redeemable drinks later, the four of them were walking back to Castleship . 

Lance felt a lazy happiness bubbling up from the drinks, shoving his hands in his pockets and tilting his face up towards the flutters of snow. 

“So, when you work the Christmas shift,” Keith said, falling into step with him, “should I bring you some eggnog? To soften the blow?”

Lance looked at Keith in shock. “I’m insulted that you think I’m going to lose.”

Keith smirked at him. “If eggnog and losing snowball fights are your best attempts at getting me to like Christmas, I’m feeling pretty confident.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started.” 

“Are you?”

"You're counting out the most important part of falling in love of Christmas," Lance reached into his pocket. "Sentimentality."

With that, he dangled Keith's ornament, a mess of glue and glitter, in between them. Plucked from a thankfully empty trashcan.

Keith scoffed. "You're impossible."

But he took the ornament and got a little closer and Lance could see the snow flutters catching on his eyelashes. 

And that caused Lance’s brain to do something weird. Something miscalculated or glitched because, for a second, because it was Christmas and Lance was feeling a little funny

about everything, Keith looked pretty. 

Maybe a little beautiful, with his eyelashes of snow and cold nose and dangerous smile. 

So Lance panicked a little and forgot every word in the dictionary. 

Keith pocketed the ornament, turning towards the bookstore. Lance noticed a large form in the door, silhouetted by the light beaming out from the cozy interior. The figure waved. 

Keith waved back . 

Lance watched in confusion as Keith jogged towards the bookstore. He knew Keith often went to the bookstore, he liked to read, often bringing books to the staff lounge so people (Lance) would leave him alone, but he never figured that he was that tight with the staff.

“Shiro!” Pidge called. “Did you catch our legendary snowball fight the other day? You’ve never mentioned your brother is deadly with snowballs!”

Lance recoiled. “Brother?”

“Yeah, he does that,” the mountain of a man chuckled. “Why don’t you guys come inside? Get out of the cold.”

Lance turned to Pidge. 

“Brother?” He repeated.

Pidge gave him a hard look. “Don’t tell me you don’t know Shiro.”

“How do you not know Shiro?” Hunk joined in. “He’s over six feet tall, has limbs the size of tree trunks, an amazing smile, you should have sniffed him out years ago.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Lance’s eyes were so wide they were watering as he watched Keith enter the bookstore and duck away from Shiro’s attempt to ruffle his wet hair. “Someone enlighten me.”

“Shiro is Keith’s foster brother,” Pidge said slowly. “You idiot.”

***

Hunk elbowed Lance hard. 

“Major staring problem happening,” he warned Lance out of the corner of his mouth. 

But Lance didn’t care. They were standing in the tiny cafe tucked into the corner of the bookstore. While Pidge, Hunk, and Lance were all shoved against the space heater, Keith and Shiro were brewing cups of coffee with eerily similar looks of concentration.

Lance knew he probably looked insane, his mouth open as he watched Keith and Shiro move in synchrony behind the bar. He couldn’t help it, his world was shifting into a completely different shape. 

He knew Keith’s parents had died after Keith had mentioned it way too casually on Mother’s Day. He knew Keith had a foster brother. But how had he worked with Keith for over a year without knowing that his brother worked next door? Had he just been tuning Keith out whenever he mentioned it? No, he couldn’t have missed that. 

And Hunk had a point, Lance was a little ashamed that a Greek god was working a few steps away without him knowing. 

Shiro was dazzling, all white teeth and strong lines. He favored his left arm, using his right arm mostly and allowing Keith to assist when needed. 

As the shock faded, the sting cut in. 

How had he not known? Why hadn’t Keith told him? 

Lance tried to push the flash of insecurity away, tuning in to Pidge and Shiro’s conversation. 

“Keith has always been ruthless in snowball fights,” Shiro was saying as he handed Pidge a cup. “I think it’s a trauma response from when I shoved him in a snowpile when he was eight.”

“Okay,” Keith scowled. “Enough story-telling from you.”

Shiro chuckled, not scared in the least.

What could scare a man of that size?

Suddenly, Shiro’s eyes were on Lance and Lance felt like he definitely needed to be warned to have such a warm smile directed his way.

“Lance, right?” Shiro asked. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Keith’s elbow made an impressive thud against Shiro’s ribs, but he looked hardly winded. 

“Oh god,” Lance shuddered. “I promise I’m not as bad as he says.”

Shiro opened his mouth but a strong smack against his left arm caused him to simply laugh in response. Lance barely paid attention, zeroing in on the sound that Shiro’s arm made when Keith hit it. 

It… almost… rang. 

Lance watched the brothers a little harder as they prepared the coffee. 

Shiro was chatting happily, smiling and nodding at something Hunk was saying while hanging Keith a bottle of creamer. Barely glancing at it, Keith automatically unscrewed the lid and handed the bottle back to Shiro. 

Once he was finished, Keith was screwing the lid and nudging a mug back on the counter that Shiro’s left hand brushed and holy shit that wasn’t a real arm. 

Lance felt his throat spasm at this realization, immediately schooling his features as he cataloged even more mind-boggling information. 

Keith’s brother that worked next door also had a prosthetic left arm. 

He thought back to what Keith first said when Lance had begged him to take his Christmas shift. 

“Just because I don’t like the holiday doesn’t mean I have places to be. Shiro’s hosting a whole thing, I told him I’d help.”

Lance felt his stomach sink as he watched Keith snap the lids on to their coffee cups. 

Maybe Lance just needed to spend the holidays in hell instead.

Shout out to tamaytsuki for their amazing art! Check them out here: https://www.tumblr.com/tamaytsuki

Chapter Text

Lance knew that he needed to get his shit together.

He was only an hour into his shift, and he had dropped three boxes, shattered one snowglobe, and made an irreversible knot in the ribbons for gift-wrapping. 

Judging by the looks sent his way by his coworkers, it was clear he was off his game. 

He ignored them and, most importantly, he ignored Keith. 

He ignored the constant raised eyebrows and attempts to catch his eye because he needed to think. Decided whether he was truly the biggest asshole on the planet.

“Just because I don’t like the holiday doesn’t mean I have places to be. Shiro’s hosting a whole thing, I told him I’d help.”

Lance flashed back to meeting the brother in question last night, the way that Keith immediately hopped in to compensate for Shiro’s prosthetic left arm. 

Lance was sure that Shiro was more than capable to do all the things, considering he ran a pretty damn successful bookstore, but he probably appreciated his little brother chipping in to help host a party. 

And here Lance was, bartering a way to force Keith to work for him instead.

God , he sucked.

A small finger poked the middle of his back, causing him to flinch and spin around. 

Pidge looked at him impatiently. “Dude, what is wrong with you today?”

A flare of anger snapped up his throat.

What didn’t Hunk or Pidge tell him? They clearly knew Shiro, and they let him roll around their apartment, proclaiming the rules of the bet. 

“I’m fine,” Lance said, a little sharper than intended. “Just spacey.”

Pidge searched his eyes and Lance really didn’t need their rare soft side to come out right now. “Are you sure?”

“Yep!” Lance said with a chirp in his voice that was not convincing at all. 

“Because now Allura is questioning having you near hot appliances.”

Lance’s eyes widened and he dropped his head with a groan. 

He had completely forgotten that today was cookie day. It had been on the staff calendar for weeks, Lance, Keith, and Hunk were going to go over to use the Balmera’s kitchen to make over three hundred cookies to sell at the local school’s bake sale. 

All of the local businesses participated, showing up and showing out to raise money for gifts for families that couldn’t afford. 

Typically, Lance would have been looking forward to it. 

But the idea of being in a confined space with Keith while Hunk made heart eyes at his girlfriend sounded like hell.

“She’s right,” Lance said quickly. “I’m in no shape to handle an oven.”

Pidge snorted and clapped him on the back. “You’ll be mixing, then!”

***

Keith’s eyes were damn near burning a hole through Lance’s spine. 

Lance tried to not react, carefully spooning out each ingredient. Balmera’s kitchen was abnormally quiet, Shay and her brother Rax normally had some cool underground radio station playing. 

But aside from the low hum of cafe chatter, it was disconcertingly quiet. 

When Hunk wasn’t carefully pressing cookie cutters into the dough, he was looking between Keith and Lance. Clearly wondering what was going on. 

Lance paused for a moment to close his eyes. It was hot and his back itched with a bead of sweat sliding down his shoulder. Keith’s glare grew a little more pointed. This was hell. It had to be. 

“You put in too much butter.”

Lance’s eyes opened and he scowled, looking down at the bowl. “The recipe said two sticks.”

“No,” Keith said impatiently. “It’s one and a half. You’re confusing it with two cups of sugar.”

Lance inhaled deeply through his nose. “I double checked the recipe.”

“And I triple-checked it,” Keith snapped. 

They glared at each other, hands on the hips of their dirty aprons. Keith would often have a flick of amusement in his eyes when he was correcting Lance. But there was no hint of it today, leaving behind only a cold stare. 

Hunk swallowed. “Guys–”

“And how would you know?” Lance said tightly. “Spend a lot of time making Christmas cookies?”

Keith’s eye twitched. “These are sugar cookies. Everyone has made sugar cookies. It’s not that hard to remember the ingredients.”

“Evidently it is, considering that you are currently spouting bullshit–”

“O-kay,” Hunk clapped his hands together. “I’ll make the dough, you two use the cookie cutters.”

“ Why are you giving Keith a weapon?”

“That’s it,” Keith snapped. 

He grabbed the back of Lance’s hoodie and tugged it forward, herding Lance out the back door like a misbehaving pet. 

Lance was nearly spitting the second they were in the freezing alleyway between Balmera’s and Castleship , the trashbags nearly frozen and drenched with snow. 

He whirled around to face Keith. “What?”

“What?” Keith repeated coldly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing!”

“You’ve been weird ever since last night,” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t make me connect dots I don’t want to connect.”

Lance felt his heart drop. 

Keith glared down at his boots, and Lance could see the sting in his face. He didn’t even think about how Keith could take it, Lance being weird and aloof right after meeting his amputee brother. 

“Fuck, Keith,” Lance rubbed his forehead. “Sorry. I just, I didn’t know about Shiro and I got weird.”

“I got that.”

Lance bit down on the corner of his lip. “Look, we can just drop the bet.”

Keith looked up at him, his anger sliding into shock. “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, let’s just forget it,” Lance said. “Ignore me being a giant asshole, I mean, Shiro looks incredibly capable, I’m pretty sure he could crush me with one hand, but I just– I don’t know man, you would be much more helpful to him than me on Christmas.”

Keith stared at him. “ That’s what this is about?”

Lance gaped at him. “That I tried to pilfer you from helping your disabled brother on Christmas? Yes!”

“While Shiro is capable,” Keith shrugged easily, “sure, he needs help with some things. But his husband, Adam, is almost always there. And will definitely help on Christmas. And Pidge’s brother is going to be there too. I would be helpful on Christmas, but I’m not necessary.”

He fixed Lance with a hard stare. “I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”

The simplicity of his words knocked the air out of his chest.

While Lance had spent the morning torturing himself over this bet, he hadn’t thought about how Keith willingly agreed to it. Had shook Lance’s hand with a competitive glint in his eye. 

And as they stood in the freezing, gross alleyway, with Keith holding his gaze defiantly, Lance wondered if maybe there was a small part of Keith that wanted to be proven wrong. 

Wanted to fall in love with the holidays.

Lance swallowed.

“Well,” he said hoarsely, offering a small smile. “Let’s not miss anymore of the classic Christmas tradition of making cookies.”

Keith arched an eyebrow. “It’s a tradition to mass-produce cookies for an elementary school.”

Lance couldn’t help the rush of relief that came from Keith fighting back. 

“Sure it is, you missed out.” 

***

“Now,” Lance said kindly, “what is that meant to be?”

Keith was immediately on defense. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to the lump of dough with the cookie cutter. “It’s a snowman.”

It most certainly was not. 

Lance didn’t know it was possible to be bad at using a cookie cutter, but their cookies were quickly proving him wrong. The sheets of cookies meant for the oven were rows of undecipherable lumps that Hunk and Shay were attempting to salvage. 

“It looks like ass,” Lance tilted his head. “Mine, to be exact.”

“Too much information,” Hunk piped in from where he was carefully frosting the cookies, trying to make the carnage Lance and Keith sent his way into proper cookies. 

Shay giggled from where she was sectioning the cookies into neat lines on metal sheets to go in their industrial fridge. They would have been so screwed if Shay and Hunk weren’t madly in love. 

“It’s too much information from me, while Keith is using my ass as inspiration?”

“You wish ,” Keith pointed to Lance’s cookie. “I don’t want to even know what that is.”

Lance lifted his cutter with a wink. “They are jingle bells, obviously.”

Keith looked personally insulted. Shay leaned over and let out a loud laugh.

“Lance, no .”

“What?” Lance crossed his arms. “What’s wrong with my bells?”

Hunk couldn’t help a snort. Shay bit the inside of her cheek. 

Keith jabbed a hand at the cookie. “You can’t take those into a school.”

Lance let out an affronted gasp. “Once Hunky does his magic, my cookies will look beautiful. Stunning, gorgeous, significantly less phallic–”

“Did you take inspiration from yourself for those bells ?” Keith cut in, grinning.

“Don’t encourage him, Keith,” Hunk sighed.

“So you admit it?” Lance pressed. “I was the muse for Frosty?” 

Keith threw a stick of butter at him. 

***

“Interesting,” Lance squinted at the recipe for the first time that afternoon. 

Keith paused from where he was vigorously stirring the dough. “You can’t say interesting after we’ve made two hundred cookies.”

“It appears we were both wrong,” Lance rubbed his chin. “It asks for two and a half sticks of butter.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. 

In unison, they both turned to the rows upon rows of cookies ready to be sold. 

Hunk looked up at them dully, a little bit of the light in his eyes gone. 

“Please,” he huffed. “You think I’d let you two have control of the ingredients? I threw in whatever you missed.”

Keith’s shoulders relaxed. 

“And this is why I love you,” Lance said.

Hunk shook his head, returning to frosting as Shay laughed and kissed his cheek. 

It was only fair that Lance and Keith were stuck with the delivering job. While Hunk went to happily clock out early, they trudged down the street hefting enormous containers. All the donations for the bake sale went to the local library at the end of the street. 

Shoppers passed them, hefting colorful bags and chatting happily with their friends. The snow had slowed, leaving a pleasant white bordering the sidewalks and the roofs of establishments. Christmas lights began to flicker on as the sun neared setting. 

As they walked, Lance tried to think of something to say. 

It was easy when they were messing around, throwing barbs or taunts at each other. But when it was quiet and just them, that’s when Lance’s heart went a little funny. 

He blamed it on the cold wind rifling through his clothes, sending a shiver down his spine. 

(Not the pink of Keith’s cheeks and nose and the way his brow was creased as he peered down at his massive bundle of cookies, seemingly lost in thought).

Lance, suddenly desperate for a break in the silence, nudged him lightly with his elbow. 

“Cookie for your thoughts?”

Keith took a moment, looking up at the cookies to stare straight ahead. 

“I was thinking about selling these,” he said. “The school is going to sell them for what, a dollar each?”

“Probably.”

Keith frowned. “That’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. All that work and all we cough up is a bit over two-hundred dollars? Nowadays, that’s only a few gifts for a few kids.

And it barely covers a decent coat for a kid who can’t afford it. Especially if they aren’t an only child or in a foster home.”

Lance wasn’t sure what to say to that. 

“I guess I didn’t think about it like that.”

Slowly, his eyes slid to Lance’s. Something was different in his expression. Something that made him look a little older, a little wiser, a little more fragile. 

It was new and open and a little terrifying. 

“All I ever do is think about it.”

Lance’s breath caught. 

Because this was new. 

This was uncharted territory. 

Keith never talked about himself. He never talked about his past and what little Lance knew was from bits and pieces. He knew that Keith used to be a foster kid before he was adopted. But Keith never expanded on it, never threw it out like this. 

But the way he spoke about it, the conviction wrapped around his words, caused Lance to slow to a stop. Keith stopped as well, brow still furrowed, still lost in his thoughts. 

“Okay,” Lance said softly. “This isn’t enough.”

He took a step closer. 

“What are we going to do about it?”

Chapter Text

Lance couldn’t sleep. 

Snow had blanketed their town and made everything so quiet. Drowning out the sounds of the rest of the world until all Lance could think about was Keith’s faraway gaze and his quiet words. 

“All I ever do is think about it.”

Lance sucked in a breath, rolling over and pressing his face into his pillow. 

A clock somewhere in his apartment ticked. 

“Okay, this isn’t enough. What are we going to do about it?” 

Keith and Lance had left the conversation at that. Had delivered the cookies and acknowledged the multitude of smiles and thanks that now felt stale and undeserving. 

Because Keith was right. 

They had spent an afternoon making cookies that would barely make a dent in the funds needed for a decent holiday. They had no business patting their own backs and considering themselves set on Christmas karma. 

And there was no chance of curbing Keith’s cynicism towards the holidays if they didn’t find a way to get some. 

Lance turned again, glaring at his ceiling. 

This was a bit of a speed bump. 

He groaned, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

And now what? 

***

Lance had the day off.

Used to college classes and work shifts, he was up and moving by eight in the morning.

By nine, he had cleaned his room, did a load of laundry, swept and vacuumed the floors, filled the dishwater, and was left with nothing to do. 

His skin itched.

He thought about how Keith had the day off. 

He had ideas, what felt like millions of Christmas tropes floating around his brain. But after yesterday, after all I ever do is think about it , it all felt a little less impactful. 

But he still had a bet to win. 

And a whole lot of Christmas cheer to bring. 

Decisively, Lance rose to his feet and snatched up his keys. It was a guess, a swing in the dark, but Lance knew of one place that Keith spent his days off. 

So he hopped into his car and drove the familiar route to the shopping district. Parked and wiped sweaty palms on his jeans and marched right into Garrison Books. 

Lance was a little surprised to hear Christmas music crooning from the speakers. 

People milled along the rows of books, talking and laughing in hushed tones. It was warm and cozy, no wonder Keith liked to spend his time here.

Lance shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and wandered further into the store. 

A couple of little kids were sitting reading at a small table tucked into a corner filled with children’s books. Older tweens were slumped in beanbags, coats and hats on the floor next to them as they flicked attentively through whatever they were reading. Some teenage girls giggled into the romance section.

It was peaceful and Lance felt his heart rate slow. 

He walked in further, a couple books actually catching his eye until–

“Lance?” 

Lance spun to see Shiro standing at a shelf, a cart of books in front of him. His smile widened and he waved happily at Lance. 

“Nice to see you,” his massive shoulders rippled as he leaned against the cart. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Yeah, actually,” Lance fiddled with the inseam of his pocket. “I was looking for Keith? Is he here?”

Shiro’s grin got even larger. “Keith?”

“Is he here?”

Shiro jerked his chin towards the stairs behind him. “Last I saw he was bickering with Adam about one of our latest releases. You’re welcome to look.”

“Thanks,” Lance sidestepped Shiro, glancing back in time to see Shiro’s grin turn into something teasing, and crept up the stairs. 

The second floor was much messier, books still packed into boxes and inventory reports lying everywhere. He could immediately hear the sound of two people talking. Intermixed was the confident lilt of Keith’s voice and the sound of someone Lance didn’t recognize.

“Adam, put that book on the “Staff Picks” shelf and I will disown you,” Keith said as Lance came closer. “I fell asleep while reading it like three times.”

“That’s because you are the most chaotic reader I know,” a voice said patiently. “And you don’t trust the classics.”

“Because why would I trust someone from two-hundred years ago to know how to keep me entertained?”

Lance felt his own lips twitch at such a Keith argument. 

“That, kid, is a crazy take.”

Before Keith could respond, Lance rounded the corner. 

Two heads snapped his way. They were in what looked like a living room, if it weren't for all the boxes scattered over the furniture. Keith was sitting on the floor, a stack of identical, wildly colorful novels, neatly placed next to him. He was wearing what Lance supposed was his standard wardrobe off the clock: dark and ripped jeans, a leather jacket, and sturdy black boots. 

(It looked really good on him.) 

A tall man with a sweater vest and glasses was hefting a box of the same books to the coffee table. He looked friendly, smile lines creasing his tan skin as he nodded a friendly dip towards Lance.

“Lance?” Keith asked. 

The other man, Adam, broke into a wide grin. “This is Lance?”

Lance blinked in surprise. Keith tilted his head back with a groan.

“You guys have got to stop doing that.”

“What?” Now Adam looked eager. “I can’t be excited to meet your friends?”

“I’m not twelve,” Keith grumbled before redirecting his attention to Lance. “What’s up?”

Lance now realized that Keith looked in fact very busy. “Sorry, I just wanted to see if you were free.”

“Oh,” Keith looked down at the books surrounding him. 

Adam moved so fast he nearly upset a massive stack of hardcovers. “He can be!”

Keith shot a look his way. “Adam–”

“Go and play with your friend, Keith.”

Lance was starting to see why Shiro married this man. He had almost an identical teasing smile on his face as Keith rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

“Don’t move the new delivery without me!” Keith called over his shoulder, brushing past Lance. “You’ll throw out your back.”

Behind them, Adam threw out a dismissive mumble as Keith lead Lance to the stairs. 

“Sorry,” Lance said, feeling a rush of embarrassment. “I didn't know you were working.”

“I’m not really,” Keith shrugged. “And it’s probably best that Adam and I get some distance, we have opposite tastes in books. Shiro thinks it’s hilarious to force us to create the staff recommendations.”

Lance offered a laugh as they walked out the store and into the brisk December cold. 

“So, you are part of the staff?”

“I suppose?” Keith said, voice reaching high in question. “I help out a little, mainly during the holiday season since their shipments are so large. Adam talks a big game but he had a back spasm trying to move a new James Patterson shipment inside last year.”

Lance cracked a smile. “So you’re just the muscle?”

Keith’s lips twitched. “I guess. Which is just pathetic.”

Lance chuckled and Keith smiled indulgently. 

“They seem cool,” Lance said awkwardly. “Adam and Shiro.”

Keith hummed in agreement. “They are. I’m shocked they still keep me around.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Keith looked up at the clouds above them, lips tilting up. 

“Well, I know I seem like a super well-adjusted and mature adult nowadays–”

“Not entirely, but live your truth.”

“Well, I was a nightmare for most of my childhood,” Keith said. “And teen years. And early adulthood.”

Lance nodded, listening. 

They were walking down the street, muscle memory causing them to slow in front of Castleship Toys. 

Lance took a risk and kept walking. After a stutter in his step, Keith followed.

“I was a nasty kid,” Keith continued hesitantly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just had an ugly personality, if I’m being real. I came by it honestly. I mean, I was stuck with the triad: no proper role models, unpredictable housing situations, and childhood trauma, blah, blah, blah.”

Lance’s heart clenched, but he stayed silent. 

They passed the striped tent where their block’s Santa was tucked inside, a line curled along the block waiting to see him. Keith watched a couple kids scamper around with candy canes in their mouths, something a little lost in his eyes. 

“So,” Keith’s voice was soft, as if in a trance, “when I did find those things, I sunk my nails in.”

He stared at the line of kids for a moment longer, before blinking quickly, yanking himself back and fixing those gray eyes on Lance. Lance felt something inside him jump at the sudden look his way, but he kept his face schooled, attentive. 

“When I first met Adam, I tried to flush his keys down the toilet.”

Lance let out a stuttered laugh at the abrupt change of tone. Keith was smiling now, but there was an intense look in his eyes, a championing plea for Lance to roll with it. Keith had let out a little but was closing up again and needed Lance to step back so he could shut the door. 

So Lance took what he could get, and rolled with it. 

“ What ?” 

“Yeah,” Keith’s shoulders loosened, grin turning into something more real. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was, like, eleven. Maybe I thought it would scare him off. Shiro fished out the keys, but I totally ruined the fob.” 

“That definitely would have scared me off.”

“Right?” Keith chuckled. “He just laughed it off. Told me that he was a lot harder to scare off than that.”

Keith’s eyes distanced. 

“And I didn’t think he was telling the truth, I thought if I terrorized himself enough, he would run off. Until Shiro’s accident,” Keith said quietly. “And then he proved he was right.”

Lance felt his breathing shift.

But Keith looked away, buttoning his lip, and Lance knew that was that. They reached the end of the street and turned in synchrony. 

“Thank you,” Lance said. 

Keith let out a huff of a laugh. “For what?”

“For sharing that with me.”

Keith shot him a suspicious look. “I don’t think anyone has ever thanked me for trauma-dumping on them.”

“You’re not. You’re sharing a little bit of yourself. So, thank you.”

Keith gaped at him, a little shocked, more unsure, and offered a short nod. He looked away from Lance and watched the line to see Santa sweep around the block.

“Make me sit on Santa’s lap and I’ll slit your throat in your sleep.”

Lance laughed, accepting the change of subject. 

“Seriously, that’s what pisses me off,” Keith shoved his hands hard in his pockets, “we just have this random man dressed in a fat suit and a mildewy beard and have the kids tell him what they want. And what does he do with that information? Just forget it immediately? Nod and smile while kids with broke parents ask for an iPad?”

“It’s fun for the kids,” Lance reasoned. “Besides, their parents know, that’s what Christmas lists are for.”

“If only the lists got shown to people who actually exist instead,” Keith said snidely. “Put those on a tree, not shitty art projects your kid made.”

Lance sighed and nodded, pushing aside his Christmas spirit and agreeing.

And then it hit him. 

Lance gasped, grabbing Keith’s shoulder.

“Oh my god, that’s it .”

Keith looked over curiously. “What is?”

Without thinking, Lance grabbed Keith’s hand and tugged him towards Castleship. 

They weaved through the shoppers, Lance’s heart racing like a hummingbird’s as he led them through. He flung open the floors, shouting a hello to where Coran spun to greet them with a confused grin, and dragged Keith up the stairs. 

“If you clock me in, I’ll throw you off the balcony.”

Lance only had a second to clock the feeling of Keith’s cool, callused fingers, and hastily dropped his hand, his own fingertips tingling.  

“No, listen,” he busied himself with opening their disaster of a craft closet, the mess where they dumped all of their supplies. “You’re a genius .”

“I mean, sure,” Keith leaned against the doorframe as Lance dug, sending a wave of spicy cologne Lance’s way. “But is there a specific reason you’re reminding me today?”

Lance finally found what he was looking for and let out a cry of triumph. 

With two good yanks, he tugged out the container holding the hundreds of wooden ornaments left from their crafting session that week.

“We were going to use these all month for our crafts,” Lance said. “But that was such a disaster, I hid them in the back and was planning to think of something else. If Allura is cool with it, we could use these to do it.”

Keith stared at him. “Do what?”

Lance grinned. “Do what you said. Put the Christmas lists on a tree .”

Keith looked between Lance and ornaments, confusion twisting his face until realization dawned. A glimmer of excitement flashed in his eyes as he grinned. 

“The community center has a discounted after school program just for families in need,” Keith knelt next to Lance, clicking open the container and picking up one of the ornaments. “We could get wishlists from those kids and write them on these.”

“Then we can put them on our trees downstairs!” Lance tacked on excitedly. “Customers can pick up one and donate the gifts!” 

“It’ll be a lot of work,” Keith said, hesitation sliding in his voice as he glanced at Lance. “Organizing it and delivering the gifts back to the community center.”

Lance shrugged. “Well it’s a good thing we’ve both dedicated our month to our love of Christmas?”

Keith shook his head but couldn’t help a smile as he examined the ornament. 

“How did you know about the after school program?”

Keith shrugged. “Because I was in it.” 

***

Getting approval was pretty easy.

While Lance talked to Allura, Keith went to the community center. Lance was trying hard to not think about a smaller Keith, a more fragile Keith, sitting stubbornly and quietly in the center after school. 

Was that when he started to hate Christmas? Watching the decorations go up and writing out his Christmas list and whispering his requests to Santa and getting nothing in return? 

Allura looked up from the ornaments and fixed Lance with a curious look.

“This will be a lot of work.”

“I know,” Lance admitted. “But Keith and I can do it.” 

Something indecipherable crossed Allura’s face. “That’s going to be a lot of time spent together out of work hours. Sure you won’t kill each other?”

Lance winked. “I think we will manage.”

Allura pushed the container towards him with a small laugh. “Yes, I bet you will.”

Within twenty minutes, Keith returned with a pleased smile and pink ears.

“They are in,” he said once he saw Lance. “We will get their wish lists in a couple days.” 

Lance grinned with excitement. “Well, then, I need to get myself together. Prep for the amount of work coming our way.”

Keith looked confused as Lance walked towards the door. 

“Come along, Keith,” Lance beckoned. “I’m not done with you yet.”

(Neither noticed the fond smile Coran had watching the two traipse back out into the cold.)

***

Bringing Keith back to his apartment was such an adrenaline-inducing experience that Lance wasn’t thinking rationally until he was unlocking his door. 

His key was in the lock when he considered three things. 

1. He hadn’t told either of his roommates he was bringing Keith over and both Hunk and Pidge were evil little elves and would certainly make life harder for him. 
2. He cleaned this morning but didn’t even touch his bathroom where there were certainly clothes on the floor. 
3. This was insane of him. 

“Don’t get cold feet now,” Keith teased, way too close to him. 

There was a split second where Lance’s brain took the situation of Keith standing right behind him at his front door, taunting him quietly, and dropped the circumstances into a vivid fantasy that Lance clocked as natural for a hormonal college student. 

He dismissed the thought hastily and unlocked his door.

“Roomies?” He bellowed. “Anyone here?”

There was no response and Lance bit back a sigh of relief. Selfishly, he didn’t want Pidge to accidentally hijack the afternoon, considering Keith was much closer with them. And precious Hunk would have insisted on making them an entire meal, which would just prove awkward.

He walked further into his apartment, side-eyeing Keith’s polite but curious gaze sweeping the living room. It was decent enough, a neat albeit small kitchenette, a faded green couch they scored from Facebook Market, chipped coffee table, large TV, all the essentials for a college living area. 

Including the Douglas Fir tree that took up a sizable part of their living room, tucked into the corner. 

Lance walked over, clicking on the switch.

The tree exploded with light, twinkling with dazzling string lights and reflective ornaments. 

Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa.”

“I know, a little on the smaller side this year.”

Keith let out an incredulous laugh. “Small? It’s as big as Hunk!”

“Last year we could barely fit ours through the door,” Lance shook his head in dismay. “It set unrealistic standards.”

Lance waved a hand at Keith. 

“Stay right there.”

Lance power walked down the hallway, hurrying into the bathroom and finding his suspicions were correct. 

“Left your boxers on the floor?” Keith called from the kitchen. 

Lance froze, arms full. “Just some dirty laundry!”

He shoved it all hastily into the washing machine. 

“Did you just invite me over to do your laundry?”

“How’d you figure it out?” Lance did one more glance, deemed it good enough, and reached for the linen closet. 

At the top was a large green tub. Lance pulled it out carefully, muscles spasming at the weight of it. With a grunt, he hefted it towards the kitchen. 

Keith was shouldering off his jacket, delicately draping it over the couch armrest. He turned, jaw dropping when he saw the size of the container.

“Jesus, how many Christmas decorations do you have?”

“Well, most of them are hand-me-downs,” Lance said as he unclicked the lid. “And considering the size of my family, I have a lot.”

Keith leaned down and lifted up what was admittedly a creepy-looking Santa with paint-chipped eyes and bedraggled beard.

“Lance, you have a problem.”

“Most people would be enchanted by him.”

“Most people are lying to you.”

Lance tugged out a string of tangled lights and garland. With a smile, he handed it to Keith. 

“Get to untangling, my dear friend.”

***

“You know, I’m starting to think that this whole bet is just to put me to work.”

Lance snickered. “Maybe. Lift it a little higher.”

Keith shot a dubious look his way. “I’m going to break your couch.”

Another wildly inappropriate, intrusive fantasy at those words spiraled through Lance’s mind. “It’s seen worse.”

Keith carefully moved from standing on the cushions to the armrest (his socks had little cats on them, adorable, really) and lifting the garland a little higher.

Instead of gauging whether the garland matched the height where it was notched on the other side of the windowsill, Lance’s eyes were involuntarily dragging to where Keith’s sweater had lifted, revealing an inch of pale skin above his waistband. 

Lance’s mouth suddenly grew very dry.

What was wrong with him? 

Lance blamed the stupid flutters of Christmas excitement for the weirdness in his hormones for most of the afternoon. 

Lance had already caught himself staring at the jut of Keith’s shoulders as he lifted decorations or the tendons rippling in his hands and wrists as he untangled the lights. Or the messy ponytail he had tied his hair back in, revealing the cartilage piercings that Lance was rarely fortunate enough to see. 

Fortunate enough? What was Lance on ?” 

“Lance?”

Lance blinked quickly, forcibly dragging his eyes back to the garland. “Yup, that looks good.”

He handed Keith a tack and Keith reached up to pin the garland in place. His sweater rose higher, revealing the curve of his hip bone. 

Lance felt his eyes bulge and turned quickly. He looked around the apartment living room and felt himself relax.

It looked amazing. The Christmas tree twinkled in the corner, lights of the exact same hue flickering along the windowsills around the room. A village of porcelain Christmas knick-knacks decorated the coffee table and a couple of bookshelves. Lance intentionally unpacked those on his own, knowing Keith would never let him hear the end of some of the admittedly unsettling figurines. 

His great-aunt’s ceramic elves were a little eerie. 

There were red bows fastened on the cabinets in the kitchen and Christmas tea towels hung on the oven handle. Garland framed doorways and the entire house smelled like cinnamon and cranberry from the candles Lance only pulled out in December. 

Keith dropped on the couch with a sigh. “Tell me that’s it. If there’s another box of Christmas lights somewhere, I’m running.”

Lance grinned broadly, stepping back and outstretching his arms.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that this isn’t a vibe.”

Keith hummed thoughtfully, dark eyes scanning the room. 

He shrugged. “It smells good.”

Lance’s grin dropped. “That’s it? That’s all you got?” 

“Decorations aren’t my thing.”

“Oh, right,” Lance slumped on the couch next to Keith. “I forgot that you are the most boring person ever.”

Keith snickered. 

“Well,” Lance looked around his apartment, a satisfied smile returning. “Pidge and Hunk are going to be stoked. Thanks for helping.”

Keith nodded in acknowledgment. 

For a moment they were quiet. Sitting in a dark room twinkling with Christmas lights as Keith lazily knocked his socked feet together, comfortable and splayed on his couch, Lance's chest started to feel a little floaty again. 

Then Keith dipped his head back, meeting Lance’s gaze with those dark, intelligent eyes, and the corner of his mouth tilted up.

“Buy me a drink?”

Lance could nearly chew on his heartbeat. 

***

In retrospect, there was a part of Lance that knew he was in denial. 

He could feel his subconscious pushing something down, cramming a door shut with a strong shoulder and locking the door. Swallowing the key for good measure.

He could feel it building, mounting as he watched Keith work hard to hide his displeasure at the Christmas karaoke in the bar Lance dragged him too. 

Keith may be a dick to him sometimes, but he kept his face as impassive as possible as a middle-aged woman belted the lyrics to “All I Want for Christmas”. 

Keith’s chin rested in his palm, fingertips sliding up and down his beer as he listened to the pitchy notes. 

Lance, needing to keep pushing a myriad of things down and, most importantly, distract himself from Keith’s long fingers, leaned forward.

“How many times would you kill me if I requested “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas”?

Keith didn’t even bat an eye. “At least six.”

Lance leaned back, trying to decide if it was worth it. 

Keith kicked him in the shin. “Do it and I’m leaving the country.”

“But then you would forfeit our bet and would have to be back to work my shift on Christmas.”

Keith shook his head in disbelief, biting back a wince at the lady’s rather horrific ending note. 

The crowd cheered, drunk off Christmas and its themed liquors.

Lance verified the list of signed-up singers and grinned. 

Lance leaned in again. “Do you know what Christmas is all about?”

“Capitalist endeavors?”

Lance ignored him. “Making a fool of yourself.”

With that, he downed the rest of his drink, put his hands on the table, and pushed himself to his feet. Keith’s jaw dropped in shock before it warped into an incredulous laugh as Lance strutted to the make-shift stage, raising his hands to amp up the crowd. 

They responded as he hopped onto the stage. 

“Hello everyone, hope everyone is having a good night,” he said, alcohol leaving a lazy amusement in his veins as they cheered. “This is for the surly ponytail in the back.”

Keith immediately dropped his face into his hands as half the bar turned to him. 

With that, Lance started the most ridiculous performance of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” he had heard. The crowd responded immediately, going wild and immediately joining along. 

It was a bit of a blur, the lyrics flying out of his mouth. He was an expert after watching the movie at least a hundred times with his sister’s kids. He dipped the mic stand, shimmied, danced, did all the things he could to pull reactions from the crowd.

And most importantly, to get the smile growing wider on Keith’s face.

Keith looked embarrassed for him. Even in the dark of the bar, Lance could see how red his face was. Keith watched him attentively, as if scared to look away, hiding his grin in his hand. 

Lance was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. 

And the moment he finished, Keith straightened, stuck his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, and let out the loudest wolf whistle Lance had ever heard. The crowd’s applause and cheers rushed after, but Lance could only stare at Keith with that something hauling up his chest.

Keith was shaking his head in disbelief, a crazed smile still growing on his face. His eyes were shining as he finally let out a laugh. 

Lance felt his cheeks grow hot. He ignored it. 

So yeah. 

Lance was very intentionally remaining in denial. 

Thank you for dyerink for this amazing art!!!! Check out more of their stuff here! https://www.tumblr.com/dyerink 

Chapter Text

A pillow smacked against Lance’s jaw, jerking him away. 

Pidge was leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom, casually sipping a mug of coffee. 

Lance blinked blearily at them, smacking his lips sleepily. “What if I slept naked?”

Pidge raised their mug casually. “What if?”

As Lance grew more awake, he realized that not only was Pidge awake before him, a rare feat in itself, Pidge was also completely dressed in a thick winter coat and snow boots.

Lance shot into a sitting position and lunged to his bedroom window.

“That’s right,” Pidge laughed. “You’re welcome for waking you. It’s a fucking winter wonderland.” 

***

Lance’s phone said that they had gotten four inches of snow overnight. White draped over everything, roofs, mailboxes, grass, cars. When Lance broke into the freezing morning, the silence drenched him, the snow soaking in all the sound. 

Lance sucked in a mouthful of the cold air, grinning as his exhale clouded.  

Children were beginning to tumble out of the apartments, stuffed in massive snow suits, skidding to a stop and shrieking at the sprawl of white. They were already starting to scoop up the snow, either throwing it at each other or beginning to mould it. 

Lance needed to work fast. 

He spun on his heel, darting back up the stairs to his apartment.
“Hunk!” He hollered. “It’s time!”

Hunk poked his head out of his room, already zipping up his jacket. “My snowman is going to beat up your snowman.”
“Your snowman is going to be begging for mercy,” Lance shot back as he tugged out the mop pocket and shoved it under the sink.

He grabbed ice from the freezer and began tossing it into the bucket. 

“Don’t use all the ice!” Pidge shouted from their room. 

“There’s enough outside–”

“ Lance !”

“Fine.”

Lance and Hunk have had an annual snowman building contest ever since they were in high school. What had started as a hearty activity was now a cut-throat competition. The loser had to scrape ice off the other’s car for a month. 

Lance hefted the bucket out of the sink, groaning at the effort and carefully hefted it down the stairs.

His feet sunk into the powdery snow from the weight of the water and he quickly tipped it over and poured the water into the snow. Once it sank in, Lance knelt and began packing it together. 

He grinned as the snow stuck together. 

“God, you’re toast, Hunk.”

By the time Hunk came out to join him, Lance already had a decent mound for the body. Hunk’s eyes widened and Lance smirked. 

The neighbor kids were watching curiously at this point, surprised to see two grown men hastily building snowmen. 

As Lance pushed the snow together, he tried to think about the possible accessories that could be a selling point. They always judged the contest winner by hovering on their balcony with hot chocolate and watching to see which snowman had the most photos taken of it. 

Last year, Hunk had barely won, sealing the deal with a snowchef, complete with a chef hat, apron, and spatula. 

Lance needed to be more creative this year, his snowman more cursed. 

He went back up and down the stairs with a fresh bucket. Packed more snow. Another bucket. More snow. Kneed Hunk when he tried to snag some of Lance’s freshly watered now. Packed more snow. Another bucket. 

By the time the basic shape began to appear, Lance’s arms were trembling from exertion. He could feel sweat beginning to build under his layers and debated stripping off his heavy coat. 

“Time?” Lance hollered.

Pidge consulted their watch from where they were watching from the balcony. “Thirty minutes.”

“Fuck.”

Hunk muttered nonsense under his breath, probably veering into hysteria like Lance was. They had caused several onlookers to linger, watching with interest.

Lance’s snowman looked sturdier than Hunk’s, but since Hunk had beaten Lance with the costume last year, Lance wasn’t getting too confident. 

He balled up snow in his hands, trying to think of something good, something clever–

“This is a new low.”

Lance’s head snapped up to see arguably the last person he would want to see him face down, ass up in a pile of snow. 

Keith smirked down at him, looking rather thrilled by this find. He was holding two coffees and had a messenger bag notched on his shoulder. He was wearing a thick black overcoat and fingerless gloves with black sunglasses for the hint of sun peeking behind the clouds and, Jesus Christ, he looked effortlessly cool while Lance still had his pajamas on under his coat.

“Hey Keith!” Pidge called.

“Hey Pidge,” Keith waved. 

“Hi,” Lance offered.

“Hi,” Keith’s smirk widened. “What’s going on here?”

“Just the annual snowman competition between me and Lance,” Hunk called.

Lance didn’t even want to know what Keith’s eyes looked like behind his sunglasses. “Annual competition? Sounds intense.”

“This is no joking matter, Keith,” Lance replied. “The winner gets a car free of ice for a month.” 

“Whoa.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“You wish,” Keith said easily.

“What are you even doing here?” Lance asked, carefully lifting the last mound and placing it on the top of his snowman. 

“I got the Christmas lists.”

Lance’s eyes snapped to his. “Really?”

Keith nodded, smirk fading into something more sincere. “Eight-three kids.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded to his bag. “I stopped by Castleship to get the wooden ornaments. I figured we could write the information on them today.”

He trailed off, taking a step back.

“No!” Lance said quickly. “No, I’m almost done. And we can write on them while counting the score from the balcony?” 

“Counting the score?”

“Listen,” Lance fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his keys. “Go up to my room.”

Keith blinked at him. “ Sorry ?”

“Go through my closet and find the funniest shit to put on a snowman.”

Keith gaped at him. Lance wiggled his keys for emphasis. 

“You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

Keith shook his head, a smile growing. “You’re ridiculous. Trade.”

He extended a hand with a coffee towards Lance. Lance looked at Keith in surprise, slowly taking the coffee. 

“Wow, thanks.” 

Keith shrugged it off. “I stopped by Balmera’s on the way here. Figured it would soothe the blow of me crashing your day off.”

“You’re not crashing,” Lance said. “You’re joining.”

Keith pressed his lips together at that, as it to push back a bigger smile. “Alright, I’ll go and find some stupid shit in your room.”

“Thank you!” Lance knelt back in the snow before freezing. “Don’t look in my nightstand!”

“Knew that already!” Keith called over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs. 

Lance smiled despite himself as he patted more snow along the bottom. 

“So,” Hunk said as he carefully positioned the head. “That was cute.”

Lance frowned. “What was?”

“That,” Hunk said. “You know, Keith coming here. Bringing your coffee. The two of you creating Christmas miracles. Cute.”

“We are just working together on a project, Hunk.”

“And you giving him permission to find all your silly stuff in your room. Cuter.”

Lance leveled a look Hunk’s way. His best friend shrugged.

“Just commenting on the cuteness I’m seeing.”

“And it makes me want to barf!” Pidge called.

Lance shook off their words, returning to the work at hand. As he stabilized his snowman, Hunk’s words kept poking at him. 

Keith did come here without texting at all. Like he knew Lance would be cool with it. Which he was, obviously , but it was new. Something different between the two of them. 

Lance just wasn’t sure entirely how to feel about it yet. Or how different he wanted it. 

Keith returned just a couple minutes later, hefting a tote bag and a wicked grin. 

“Oh God,” Lance leaned back on his feet as Keith walked over. “I’m terrified.”

“Hear me out,” Keith said. “I have a vision. And you have some explaining to do.” 

With the evillest smile Lance had ever seen, Keith then proceeded to pull out a bikini.  

*** 

“Listen,” Lance said. “Our principal was like a million years old and an ass about dress code, so for our senior prank all the guys bought bikinis and–”

“I actually don’t want to know,” Keith cut in. “Shit, my gloves are catching on the snow.”

Holding the bikini straps in one hand, Keith lifted his fingerless glove to his mouth. With a flash of white teeth, he pulled his hand free of the glove and shoved it in his pocket. 

Keith returned to tying the straps. Lance’s mouth had gone a little dry.

“It’s a funny story,” Hunk hopped in, as if knowing Lance had been stunned speechless. “If you’re ever interested, I may be in possession of some photos of Lance sunbathing on the front lawn. Solid blackmail material.”

Keith snorted. “I may take you up on that.”

Lance deigned to response, too focused on fastening the towel around the snowman’s midriff.

“You didn’t participate in the senior prank?” Lance asked. 

Keith chuckled. “Please, I was too busy self-sabotaging and getting into fights.”

Lance looked over at him curiously. Keith waved him off. 

Fair enough. High school lore didn’t need to be dished over a scantily-clad snowman.

Once Lance pinned the towel together and shoved it into the snow midriff, he stepped back and admired their work. 

Keith’s vision was funny as hell.

The snowman now had a floppy hat, a bikini top, and a towel tied around its lower half. Keith stepped back next to him and considered the snowman.

He glanced at Lance. “We will be watching the snowman from the balcony?”

“Yes,” Lance said, electing to ignore the shiver that went down his spine at we . 

Keith gave a decisive nod. He walked back to the snowman and took off his sunglasses. Carefully, he pushed them into the head, adjusting them until they were straight. 

Lance grinned. “Perfect.” 

***

Hunk groaned as another family slowed to take pictures of who Lance lovingly named Becky the Bikini Snowman. 

Lance grinned. “Becky is sweeping your Santa.”

Hunk grimaced. Keith offered a consoling pat on the back. 

The four of them were sitting on the balcony, swaddled in blankets and equipped with steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

Lance let out a short laugh as he read from the list. “Little Tony wants a three-foot gummy worm.”

Keith laughed, lazily watching the spectators of the snowmen. “Someone will definitely find that online.”

Lance nodded in agreement, grinning as he copied the wish in neat lettering on the ornament. 

With the better penmanship, Lance was writing the wishes and the information on delivering the presents to the Castleship by Christmas Eve. Keith was tying ribbon along the top and organizing them by age group to keep track.

“I can’t be the only one wondering,” Pidge leaned forward, their hair mussed from the three blankets surrounding them. “Keith, how did you find that bikini top?”

A slow (unfortunately sexy) grin crossed Keith’s face, pink fingers looping ribbon through the notch in the top of an ornament. 

“I just figured that Lance’s weirdest shit would be on the top shelf of his closet, shoved in the back.”

Lance’s jaw dropped because, holy shit, he was right . 

“And?” Pidge giggled. “What else did you find?”

Amused eyes darted to Lance. “Let’s see. There was a pirate hat, an eyepatch, at least three feather boas, two pairs of spandex, three bras, and an antiquated box of condoms.”

“Vintage,” Pidge cackled.

Lance laughed through his blush. “Listen, high school was a time and a half.”

“That is evidently clear,” Keith said with a teasing smile. 

***

An hour passed and Lance won by a landslide. 

The competition was over, the ornaments tied up, Keith’s sunglasses on his head, and they still didn’t go inside. 

Tangled in blankets, Keith and Lance sat on the bench in a content silence, watching kids run out in the snow with cheap sleds and boards. Their hot chocolate had grown cold, Pidge and Hunk had long since left them be, but neither moved.

Maybe Lance was being a bad host. Maybe Keith was waiting for him to tell him to leave. Maybe he was hoping for Lance to release that moment, to free them from this strange contentment. 

But Lance was feeling quite selfish, and said nothing. 

“You know,” Keith said after a moment. “I didn’t see snow until I was fifteen.”

“What– really?”

Keith nodded, gray eyes studying the clouds above them, as if trying to discern if more would come. “I lived in Texas for most of my life.”

“Texas?” Lance couldn’t help a surprised laugh. “Really?”

“Really,” Keith cracked a smile. “So it was hot as fuck, most of the time.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Oh, it majorly sucked,” Keith said. “But most of my childhood did, so, you know, who was counting.”

Lance studied Keith’s profile, the dip of his eyelashes, the cut of his nose. Wondering Keith wanted him to ask, wanted him to start prying open those walls.

“But Shiro went to college here,” Keith continued before Lance could push any further. “And I followed. I came to visit him over Thanksgiving break and it was snowing. Blew my fucking mind. I loved it.”

His eyes trailed along the sprawling white. 

“Still do.”

“I used to hate it,” Lance said. “But that was probably just a protest from moving.”

Keith looked at him with surprise. “You moved here too.”

“Hell yeah. I used to live by the beach.”

“Wow,” Keith studied him. “I always assumed you were born here. You fit here so well.”

“And you don’t?” Lance laughed.

Keith shrugged. “I used to think I didn’t.”

Lance hesitated, tuning in to the feeling of Keith’s body heat, the shuddering warmth under the blankets. 

“And now?”

Slowly, Keith’s eyes met his. 

“I think I’m finding my place.” 

Chapter Text

“ How does James Patterson write so many books?”

“Ghost writers, probably,” Keith chuckled. 

Lance hummed, flipping the novel over to read the back. 

They were sitting in the Garrison, reviewing the latest shipment. Well, Keith was, and Lance was giving him his company and thoughts on each book he pulled out. 

They had swung by the bookstore to grab a label maker to use for the donations. But Keith had spotted Adam hefting massive boxes of hardcovers down the steep stairs and promptly dropped what he was doing to help. 

Lance joined in as well and the three of them hefted the shipment to the office upstairs. 

Now their curiosity had gotten the better of them. 

Sprawled on the couch, Lance opened the Patterson book and skimmed the first page.

“Whoa, talk about a cold open.”

Keith pulled out some bubble wrap and groaned. “Why do we have an order of Fifty Shades of Grey ?”

“Someone really needs their bells jingled.”

Keith shuddered, dropping the books on the pile next to him. “You need to put away some of those holiday innuendos.”

“Why would I when they make you that uncomfortable?”

Keith rolled his eyes as he broke down the box. 

The stairs creaked and Shiro rounded the corner, a box of receipt tape tucked under his arm. He grinned at the two of them. 

“Good morning, Lance. Good to see you.”

Lance waved. 

Keith glared at his brother through his bangs. “You don’t have to act like I never bring people around.”

“Well, I’m not acting because–,” Shiro cut himself out, chuckling as he avoided the kick Keith sent towards his shins. 

Shiro danced away, placing the box with the others. “Can I get you two anything?”

“We’re good,” Lance and Keith chorused.

Shiro shot them a salute and headed back down the stairs. 

Lance wiggled his shoulders, settling himself further into the couch. The office was warm and smelled like peppermint and book spines. Snow was gently falling against the window panes and Chritsmas music floated up from the bottom floor. Lance found himself smiling. He could get used to this. 

It took another couple of Patterson pages before Lance felt Keith’s eyes on him. When Lance looked his way, Keith turned his head, busying himself with the order.

“You don’t have to stay.”

Lance paused. 

“You know,” Keith waved aimlessly. “It’s your day off. I totally kidnapped you.”

“Happy to be kidnapped,” Lance shrugged.“What else would I do?”

“I don’t know,” Keith stacked a pair of Harry Potter hardcovers. “Go and find some Christmas thing to do?”

Lance grinned. “Don’t you worry, we have a Christmas thing to do.”

Keith groaned. 

***

For the longest time, Lance had a working theory that Keith was good at everything. 

That theory was disproved today.

Keith’s nails were digging into Lance’s coat, the weight of his entire body stretching it down.

“Hey man, this is cashmere.”

“Fuck you,” Keith hissed. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”

The venom behind his words would have been more threatening, if it weren’t for the fact that Keith looked like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.

Lance didn’t bother to hide his shit-eating grin as Keith’s knees wobbled.

“Who would have thought?” He teased. “Keith Kogane, absolute shit ice skater.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. Two girls, no older than six, skated by, gracefully balanced and holding onto a rolling reindeer.

“We can get you one of those.”

“I would rather fall on my ass,” Keith spat. “And I’m taking you down with me.”

Lance snorted.

Keith looked murderous, all while clinging onto Lance’s arm with a death grip. The ice rink was packed, most patrons being families with kids under ten. There was an underlying hum of the controlled air keeping the ice cold. String lights beamed above them. Vendors sold hot chocolate, apple cider, candy canes, and hot chocolate on every side of the rink. It was loud and chaotic and a little delightful. 

Lance was having the time of his life.

Keith had been complaining the whole drive, and now Lance knew why. 

His ankles wobbled as the skates skirted uncertainly beneath him. Keith couldn’t decide between glaring at Lance or glaring at his feet. 

“Lance, I’m going to kill you for this,” he fought out through his teeth. 

“Keith,” Lance chuckled. “You gotta trust me on this. First, you need to relax.”

Keith’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “How am I going to relax when there are a million little blades on little, unpredictable feet around me?”

Lance smirked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were intimidated by the little kids skating better than you.”

Keith’s eyes were like slits. Lance looked at a random patch of ice to bottle back a laugh.

“Fine,” Keith’s voice was sour. “Fine. Show me how to fucking skate, you asshole.”

“Okay,” Lance snickered. “For starters, you barely tied your skates right.”

With Lance’s help, Keith half-hobbled, half-hopped to the end. Once he was seated safely on a bench, Lance knelt down in front of Keith’s feet.

“You need to tie them tight,” Lance yanked off a glove with his teeth and looped his finger through the laces, pulling them as hard as he could. 

A strange noise came from the back of Keith’s throat, but Lance ignored it. 

His fingers were cold and a little clumsy, but he managed to tie Keith’s laces much tighter. 

“There,” he patted Keith’s knees and got back to his feet.

Keith’s cheeks were even redder from the cold and he averted Lance’s eyes as Lance helped him to his feet.

“Okay, stand up straight, keep your posture decent.”

Keith scowled, but did what Lance said.

“Bend your knees a little, wait, a little less, there .” Lance gently nudged Keith’s skate with his. “Okay, tilt out your shoes, nice.”

He glided back with a grin. 

“Now, you are ready.”

Keith looked extremely doubtful. 

“Push your right foot back, slowly.”

Keith hesitated, before following Lance’s directions. He moved forward ever so slightly. Holding his breath and staring at his feet, Keith moved his left back. 

He crawled forward.

Pushed his right back. 

He leaned a little too far and pitched forward. Lance swung in, catching Keith around the shoulders.

“Whoops!” 

Lance laughed as Keith grabbed at his arms, teeth gritted as his feet scrambled under him. 

“Okay, hold on.”

“You are finding this way too funny,” Keith hissed.

“How could I not?” Lance said lightly. “Before this, I thought you were perfect.”

Keith went still. Lance hardly noticed, too focused on taking Keith’s arms in his hands. 

“Alright,” he wrapped his hands around Keith’s forearms. “Hold on.”

Once Keith blinked hard and held on tight to Lance’s arms, Lance began to skate. Keith’s eyes bulged at the sight of Lance skating backwards. 

“Don’t let me run into someone.”

Keith nodded quickly. 

“Just get used to the feeling,” Lance said calmly. “Get balanced.” 

“Don’t let go,” Keith said tightly.

“Hey,” Lance’s shit-eating grin faded sincerely. “I won’t.” 

Keith held his gaze for one pulse and then nodded stiffly. 

For one lap around the rink, Lance just kinda dragged Keith along. Keith’s feet teetered back and forth but, for the most part, stayed even and balanced. He kept his back straight and knees bent and slowly, ever so slowly, began to unclench his fingers around Lance’s sleeves.

“I would have thought you did this before.”

Keith shook his head. “Shiro’s balance is good, but it never came back perfectly after losing his arm. So he doesn’t really like stuff like this. Adam doesn’t like communal shoes, so, never really had anyone to drag me here.”

Lance offered an award-winning grin. “Well, aren’t you blessed now.”

Keith let out a dry huff. 

“So,” Lance kept talking as Keith’s eyes darted to their feet, trying to distract him. “Tell me about Shiro.”

“What do you want to know?” Keith asked distractingly. 

“I don’t know, what was he like when you guys first met?”

“Oh, annoyingly perfect,” Keith said immediately. “I couldn’t stand him at first. I thought he was just being nice and inviting as a joke.”

Lance winced. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Keith offered a small smile, eyes finally lifting from his feet. “But then he told me to stop being an asshole, so I realized it wasn’t a bit.”

Lance grinned. “Like a true brother.”

“I guess.”

A trio of kids skated past them, shrieking with laughter. Keith’s eyes followed them. His cheeks flushed redder and he glared down at his feet. 

“And what about your foster parents?”

Lance began to sway slightly, pulling Keith’s right arm towards him and then his left, trying to guide Keith’s body into shifting body weight. 

“The Shiroganes are great,” Keith said, following Lance’s momentum shift. “Good people.”

Lance studied Keith. “I’m glad you have them.”

Keith offered a small smile. “Me too.”

Hesitantly, Keith began to push back his right foot, then his left, then his right. It was awkward and slow, but Keith was beginning to skate.

“So, Shiro listens to Christmas music full blast in his store,” Lance said. “He didn’t get the anti-Christmas bug?”

“The Shiroganes love Christmas,” Keith replied, his grip loosening on Lance as he grew more comfortable. 

“Couldn’t get you into it?”

Keith let out a dry laugh. “Nope.”

Lance studied him, trying to decide whether this was a moment to push, to try to peel back another wall. 

Keith was getting faster, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. His cheeks were flushed and nose pink and there was a flash of teeth in his smile and Lance couldn’t bear to risk ruining it.

“Okay, I’m going to let go of your arm.”

With a flourish, Lance dropped Keith’s left arm. 

Keith’s satisfied grin dropped into a panicked gasp as Lance cheerfully grabbed Keith’s hand and tugged him along.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Lance whistled. “Keith Kogane is skating.”

Keith didn’t seem to believe him, staring down at his feet. 

He looked up at Lance in amazement. “Holy shit.” 

Lance grinned. 

Together, they looped the rink. Lance orbited around Keith, light touches to keep him balanced, sliding behind him to get out of the way of other skaters. The entire time, Keith kept a tight hold of Lance’s hand. 

“How are you so good at this?” Keith asked as Lance expertly shimmied past a couple teenagers. 

“I used to take my niece and nephew here all the time,” Lance said. “They are twins, and were rambunctious little assholes and I used to watch them for most of Christmas break while my sister and brother-in-law worked. Only ice skating could tire them out.” 

“What are their names?”

“Cam and Sophie.”

Keith smiled. “Cute.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“You must be close with your sister.”

“Oh, Rachel and I are thick as thieves,” Lance slipped along the border of the rink, his arm brushing along Keith’s. “But I think her and my other sister, Veronica, are closer. I

suppose that’s to be expected.”

“Two sisters?” Keith tilted his head, giving Lance an exclusive show of his jawline. “I suppose that tracks.”

“It’s why I’m so intune to feminine allures.”

“Oh, of course.”

Another circle around the rink.

“What do you guys do for Christmas?” Keith smirked. “When you aren’t working Christmas, I mean.”

“Funny,” Lance rolled his eyes. “We honestly don’t do much on Christmas. We open gifts, have breakfast, and then chill together for the rest of the day. It’s the week leading up to it when most of our festivities happen.”

“Festivities,” Keith repeated thoughtfully. “Sounds scary.”

“You’ll see, since I’ll definitely be dragging you to some of them.”

Keith’s concentration slipped and he fell right into Lance. Lance locked his skates, arms flying around Keith’s waist.

“Whoa, dude–”

“You’re taking me to what ?” Keith demanded, looking up at Lance in abject horror. 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Lance chuckled, helping Keith balance. “Nothing crazy. Making gingerbread houses, baking cookies, caroling–”

“Take me caroling and I’ll make you regret it.”

“Ooo, scary,” Lance teased, tugging Keith into a slow spin. “Scary words from a scary guy.”

“You’re a dick,” Keith said with meaning, as a smile threatened to peek through.

“I told you I’m making you fall in love with Christmas,” Lance said. “There’s no way I can manage it without some good ol’ quality time with the McClains.”

“You can bring me around your family,” Keith said in disbelief. “I am grumpy and awkward.”

“They’ll love you!” Lance insisted.

Though he did make a mental note to correct the reputation he had made of Keith in his household as a grumpy, awkward, brilliant asshole. What could he say? At their weekly family dinners, he tended to talk shit. 

“Alright,” Lance moved his hands from Keith’s waist. “One more lap and I’ll consider you a pro at skating.”

“Oh, brilliant–”

“Uncle Ants!”

Lance froze. 

Keith stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lance turned, looking over his shoulder and scanning the crowd curiously. “I swore I heard something, but there’s no way.”

“Uncle Ants!” 

With that, two small bodies skidded into the back of his knees. His legs nearly gave out, if it weren’t for Keith wrapped a (strong) arm around his waist and keeping him up.

“Whoa!” Lance spun in Keith’s hold to beam down at two mops of curly brown hair. “Were your ears burning?”

Cameron and Sophia McClain-Samuels’s brilliant grins faded into confused looks. “Ears burning?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance beamed down at them. “Hey guys!”

“Uncle Ants?” Keith murmured in his ear.

“They called me that when they were two,” Lance said out of the corner of his mouth. “And it stuck.”

“Evidently.”

“Are you here to skate with us?” Sophie asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh, well–”

“Uh oh!” 

Lance’s blood ran cold at the sound of a voice working hard to smooth motherly tones over smug excitement. Rachel McClain slipped through the crowd, grinning broadly at her brother. 

She looked good, long brown waves tucked firmly behind her ears as she skated. Her coat was dusted with snow and ruffled from little hands grabbed the edges, but she looked as beautiful and confident as normal. 

And a little sly. 

“Looks like Uncle Ants is on a date right now,” she said to her kids. “He’s not here for twin time.”

“I’m always ready for twin time,” Lance protested. “And I’m not on a date.”His sister arched an eyebrow and that’s about when Lance realized that Keith’s arms were still wound around his waist and Lance had a handful of Keith’s coat in his glove. 

Lance slicked his tongue over his teeth. “Rach, funny story.”

***

What followed was the most awkward hot chocolate break of Lance’s life. 

Keith felt like a burning weight next to him, the two of them shrinking until Rachel’s curious gaze. Cam and Soph were thankfully oblivious, too preoccupied with fighting for Uncle Ants’ lap and chugging their hot chocolate. 

Keith seemed to get along with Sophie and Cam surprisingly well. Once they asked him a million questions about his ears full of silver and his chipped nail polish, they seemed very content to have him join the party. 

The small talk was painful. Rachel thankfully rolled with the punches, not batting an eye when she recognized ice rink Keith as god, my coworker is such a hot asshole Keith. That was what Lance liked about Rachel. She was the oldest and level-headed and pretty solid with social cues. 

What Lance didn’t like about his sister was that she was probably the most notorious gossip of the family.

The moment Keith left to find the restroom, Rachel slapped her palms excitedly against the table.

“Oh my god, Lance, spill .”

“There’s nothing to spill,” Lance said defensively, busying himself with finishing Sophie’s braid.

“You are on a date with the coworker I thought you hated.”

“It’s not a date and I never hated him,” Lance sighed, tying off Sophie’s braid. “It’s a bet.”

“A bet?”

Lance nodded as Sophie hopped off his lap. He patted his knees and Cam scrambled on. 

“It’s a long story,” he said. 

Rachel checked her watch. “You’ve got time. Keith went the wrong way to the bathroom.”
As quickly as he could, Lance gave Rachel the rundown. Her eyebrows grew higher and mouth fell further the more he talked. 

Once he finished, Rachel sat back in her seat in disbelief. 

“Lance.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re insane.”

Lance rubbed his forehead. “Yeah.”

“Let me make sure I’ve got this right.”

“Go for it.”

“You’ve got about two weeks to make someone who had heartily hated Christmas their whole life to admit they like it? All in time to get a shift covered?”

“Yup.”

Rachel stared at him, before her eyes slid to where Keith had disappeared. “He seems like a sweet kid.”

“He is.”

Lance couldn’t help but notice the wistful ache to his tone and really hoped his sister didn’t pick up on it. 

She was still looking behind him, seemingly lost in thought. 

“It looks like he needs a good Christmas.”

“I think he does,” Lance’s throat was tight.

Rachel looked at him, eyes sparkling. “How can I help?”

***

“Rachel so owes me,” Lance said dramatically as they walked to the car. 

Keith shot him an amused side-eye. “I would have thought you would be excited.”

Oh, Lance probably needed to dial it back. “I mean, I am, but I didn’t really want us to get saddled with babysitting duty.”

Keith shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to do tomorrow morning.”

“Even if it’s visiting a capitalist impersonator?”

Keith studied his boots as they walked. “Even then.” 

Lance’s smile was wide and genuine. 

Everything was going according to plan. 

It had been Rachel’s idea for Lance and Keith to take the twins to see Santa tomorrow. Lance had hesitated at first, considering Keith made his opinions of visiting Santa quite clear. Rachel had insisted, pushing that there was no way to embrace Christmas if they didn’t see Santa .

Lance had relented, but was admittedly a little surprised Keith didn’t put up more of a fight.

He glanced at Keith as they reached the car. “I’m surprised you’re down to see Santa.” 

“I remember the rules,” Keith said as he opened his door. “No Grinching.”

Lance grinned. “So, caroling?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Thank you dye-rink for the amazing art! Check them out!

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Chapter Text

“So, Ants.”

“Not funny.”

Keith’s lips twitched and he shrugged innocently. “Just wondering what Uncle Ants is going to ask Santa for Christmas.”

“Be like that and I’ll make you sit on Santa’s lap.”

Keith let out an entertained laugh. “Do that and you’ll live to regret it.”

Lance wondered why Keith constantly threw out threats while looking like the least scary person in the world. For instance, he was currently talking mad shit while trying to free Sophie’s zipper from a snag. 

He was crouched in front of her, fingernails with chipped nail polish wrapped gently around the zipper of her puffy jacket. Sophie was staring at him, a little starry-eyed, gaping at his piercings and dark hair. 

Lance was a little busy with Cam crawling around his shoulders, fidgety and uncomfortable in the line. 

To be fair, the line was long . 

They had been standing in the cold snow for nearly twenty minutes at this point, and the line had barely inched forward. Lance looked wistfully over his shoulder to the Castleship , warm and beaming with light. 

With a sigh, he turned back to Santa’s Workshop, a makeshift wooden cottage hastily built in the middle of their block. Kids were sniffling and whining around their exhausted parents. Lance heard a baby screaming somewhere in the line behind them. 

Cam, not nearly as much of a trooper as Sophie, let out a soft sigh and dropped his face into Lance’s neck. 

This was just about as not-Christmassy as you could get. 

Judging by Keith’s smirk, he was thinking the same thing. 

Keith freed Sophie’s zipper and closed her jacket up to her chin. Sophie looked away, blushing.

Lance felt for her. 

The twins were dressed in matching red puffy jackets and jeans with Santa hats jammed over their dark curls. Lance could tell that Rachel was aiming for a Christmas card photo. But considering Sophie’s nose was running from the cold and Cam was fighting tears in his neck, he wasn’t too hopeful. 

Keith rose to his feet and stretched. “This is really fun.”

“Can it.”

Keith snickered, leaning into him. “Do you think Santa is on a smoke break?”

Lance elbowed him, inhaling a mouthful of his cologne and suppressing a shiver. 

Steam exhaled from Keith’s mouth as he laughed, grinning as he rubbed his side. “This is really fun, really Christmassy.”

“You aren’t cute when you’re smug.”

Keith grinned innocently. “So, there are times when I am cute?”

Thankfully, Cam took the moment to sneeze into Lance’s neck. 

“Oh!” Lance spun away from Keith in attempts to hide his ears growing red. “Bless you, buddy.”

Cam sniffled as Lance handed him a tissue. 

“Don’t worry, Cammie,” Lance said, shifting his weight to a different arm. “We’ll see Santa soon.”

Keith and Sophie shot him matching dubious looks.

They shifted and swayed in the cold. The line crawled forward and cheerful Christmas music played mockingly from the speakers. Sophie pressed herself into Lance’s legs, tiny teeth chattering. Cam looked near the brink of a mental breakdown. Even Keith’s self-satisfactory grin faded into something almost concerned. 

“Here, Cam,” Lance lowered Cam down next to Sophie. “Twin time!”

Once the little ears were out of earshot, Lance grabbed Keith’s jacket and tugged him closer.

“Dude, I’m panicking,” he hissed into Keith’s ear. 

“I know,” Keith scanned the line with disbelief. “This is torturous for a five-year-old.”

Lance looked down at his niece and nephew as they leaned against his legs. 

“How about this,” Keith said suddenly. “You guys go into the Castleship and I’ll wait in line.”

Lance looked at him in surprise. “But you hate this stuff.”

“Yeah,” Keith said easily. “But I don’t want to watch little kids turn into popsicles.”

“I can’t make you sit in the cold and wait, I’ll do it.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “I counted you with the little kid popsicles. I got it.”

“While I’m honored that you don’t want to see me shiver, still–”

“Good morning!” A woman dressed as an elf, complete with the red cheeks and pointed shoes, waved enthusiastically at Cam and Sophie. “That’s so sweet that your parents brought you to see Santa!”

The argument died in Lance’s throat.

Both his and Keith’s head snapped to the elf. 

“Wait–”

“Hold on–”

“Don’t worry,” she winked at Lance, her voice much lower when she was talking to adults. “We are cool with all families here.”

Lance gaped at her.

“Well, can he stay with the kids while I wait in line?” Keith asked.

Lance’s mouth hung further, staring at Keith in shock from how smoothly he rolled with the elf’s misunderstanding. 

She frowned dramatically. “Sorry, no holding spaces to see Santa.”

Keith nodded with a low thanks and the elf skipped further down the line.

“Talk about a personality hire,” he muttered to Lance.

Lance couldn’t help a laugh at that.

“So,” Keith turned to face Lance. “What’s the plan?”

Lance studied Keith, the open curiosity in his face. The willingness to follow whatever bullshit he came up with. 

Lance felt his heart melt a little. 

He bent down towards the twins. Sophie was kicking at the snow while Cam was staring at the line with a pinched face, mouth working towards a cry.

“I think I saw a reindeer,” Lance said in a dramatic whisper. 

That got their attention. Cam strained on his toes as Sophie tried to run out of the line. 

“Whoa!” Lance laughed, grabbing the end of her puffy jacket. 

In a smooth, practiced movement, he lifted her up and on his shoulders. “Do you see it?” 

“Where?”

“It may have flown off after dropping off Santa,” Lance said thoughtfully. “Look up and see if you see him in the sky.”

Sophie’s hat nearly popped off her head as she quickly looked up. 

“Hm,” Keith bent down towards Cam. “Do you see it?” 

Cam’s face scrunched up in concentration as he scanned the sky. 

Keith shot Lance an impressed look. 

Looking for reindeer caused the rest of the line to pass by pretty quickly. 

Soon enough, they could see the top of Santa’s hat. Sophie nearly vibrated with excitement, while Cam looked a little nervous. 

Thankfully, the guy looked like Santa. Complete with the beard and suit and everything. He seemed kind and genuine with his “ho-hos”, listening attentively to what the kids were saying. When it was their turn, Sophie eagerly vaulted up to sit on Santa’s knee.

“I’ve never liked that,” Keith said out of the corner of his mouth. “Why do they sit on him?”

“Don’t make it weird,” Lance whispered. 

Small hands gripped Lance’s pant leg. 

“What’s up, Cam?” Lance asked as the little boy lingered at his legs. 

Big brown eyes stared up at Santa, unsure. 

“Look at Sophie,” Lance said gently. “She’s having fun. Why don’t you go with her?”

With some careful reassurance, Cam talked to Santa, standing at his feet while Sophie kicked her feet from where she was sitting on his leg. They got a photo, though Lance wasn’t sure how good it would be for a Christmas card.

Both him and Keith let out a sigh of relief as they broke out of the stuffy cottage.

“Alright, kids,” Lance patted their heads. “You’ve got an hour until your mom picks you up, so I’m putting you to work.”

***

“Careful, buddy,” Lance said softly. 

Cam’s brow was knit with concentration as he reached out and slid the wooden ornament on the Christmas tree. 

“Perfect,” Lance grinned, “you’re a natural!”

Cam’s light-up sneakers knocked against Lance’s chest.

“Sophie is trying to kill me,” Keith wheezed. 

Lance leaned over the tree and snickered. While Cam calmly hung ornament after ornament, Sophie seemed determined to place them as high as possible. One hand reaching out and the other firmly balancing in Keith’s hair, Sophie’s tongue was stuck out in concentration as she shoved the ornament on the branch. 

Her leg curled further around Keith’s windpipe and he choked out a wince, wrapping a hand around her ankle and gently pulling back her foot.

“You gave me the evil twin,” Keith gasped out and Sophie giggled.

“Maybe,” Lance said brightly. “Just to add a little adventure to your day.”

“Keith!” Sophie said happily. “Look! It’s almost at the star!”

“Good job, Sophie,” Keith said hoarsely. 

She settled back on his shoulders, satisfied as Keith handed her a new ornament to hang. 

They worked for the most part in a content silence. The store was mostly empty save for a few browsing shoppers. Pidge was enjoying the show from the register and Allura was in her office, which was probably for the best because Lance doubted she would approve this way of work. 

But it seemed effective. The trees looked beautiful, beaming with the simple wooden ornaments hung on the green branches. The customers in the store had already begun to look at them curiously. Lance tried to not get his hopes up too much, but he swore he saw a customer take one and put it in her purse. 

“Uncle Ants,” Cam asked quietly. “What did you put on your Christmas list?”

“Oh,” Lance blinked as he handed Cam a new ornament. “I haven’t sent mine in yet.”

“You haven’t?” Sophie gasped. “What if Santa doesn’t get it?”

“Well, it’s a good thing he works right down the street!”

“What are you asking for?”

“I don’t know,” Lance hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe a new book? A foot massager? A nose picker?”

“Ew, Uncle Ants!” Sophie shrieked.

“That’s gross,” Cam giggled.

“But we all need them,” Lance said proudly. “But I’m hoping Santa will make me a magical coffee cup that never gets cold. You know I need my caffeine with Keithy over keeping me on my toes.”

“Ha ha,” Keith deadpanned from the other tree.

“What are you asking for, Keith?” Sophie asked, looking down at him curiously.

Lance paused, turning to watch Keith freeze.

“I don’t know,” Keith said after a moment, taking her another ornament. “I typically don’t write a list.”

Cam frowned. “Why not?”

Keith opened his mouth, and nothing came out. 

For a moment, he looked horribly trapped. 

“He likes for Santa to surprise him,” Lance said quickly, jumping in to the rescue. 

Keith shut his mouth, looking a little relieved.

“Whoa,” Sophie said quietly. “That’s crazy. What if he gets you something you don’t like?”

“I’ll be okay,” Keith said with a small smile her way. 

***

Lance checked his watch. “Rachel should be here soon.”

“Good,” Keith exhaled, head lolling against the couch. “I mean, they are awesome, but–”

“I know,” Lance chuckled. “They take it out of you.”

The ornaments were all hung and Lance definitely saw a couple customers take them off the trees. Keith and Lance organized them alphabetically: children with last names beginning with A to F went on the first tree, G-L on the next, M-Q the one after, and so on. That way they were able to do a rough estimate of which ones were taken and what gifts to expect. 

Now Sophie and Cam were lying on their stomachs in the staff lounge watching a movie on Lance’s laptop, with Keith and Lance collapsed on the couch behind them. 

“You can go, you know,” Lance said after a moment. “This is just the boring babysitting part.”

“Nah,” Keith said, smiling ever so slightly. “I like this part. Seeing them so relaxed. I’m not used to it.”

Lance swallowed, taking a moment to carefully think through his words. “You’re not?”

Keith met his gaze, searching his eyes with those dark gray ones. “Not really.”

That small part of Lance lurched forward again. Wondering and daring to push forward, to ask what happened, who did this to you, what made you treat Christmas like a stranger?

But Keith pulled away, turning to watch the kids again. 

Lance cleared his throat. “Rachel is always looking for babysitters.” 

Keith’s lips twitched. “I may take her up on it.”

Lance kicked his feet together. “You know, we keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Giving the other an out to leave,” Lance said quietly, daring himself to look back at Keith. “And not taking it.”

Keith watched the twins for a moment before facing Lance. 

“We do, don’t we?” He murmured.

Lance’s heart rocketed to his throat. They were close, close enough that Lance could nearly count Keith’s eyelashes. He could see the purple specks in his eyes and the vibrant black tone to his hair. He could smell spice and coffee and the mint of chapstick and, god forsake him, his mouth watered . 

Lance opened his mouth helplessly.

Keith watched him, something open and equally helpless crossing his face.

“Hello?” A familiar voice called from the entrance of the lower level. “I’m looking for some double trouble!”

“Mommy!” The twins jumped to their feet, crashing into each other on their way to the stairs. 

Lance and Keith lurched apart, rising to their feet and walking over to the balcony. Lance made it to the edge in time to see Rachel bending down and accepting two tiny bear hugs. 

She looked up at the two of them, eyes sparkling. “Have fun?”

“Yup,” Lance managed.

Chapter Text

Lance’s apartment wasn’t the best living situation he’s ever had. Hot water could be sparse and the AC seemed to always be on the fritz. The floors creaked in all the wrong places and he swore the walls were paper thin. But he was living with his best buds and, most importantly, had the best hill in the entire town for sledding in his background.

The apartment complex was set at the bottom of a massive hill. Constant snowfall had led to an exquisite sledding ramp, grassy and slushy with snow. No rocks or branches, just a long, open expanse where you could really pick up speed.

And Lance had been saving it. Had been checking outside his window every morning to see how thick the snow had gotten and whether people had begun to take advantage of it. He considered seeing Keith’s accusation of the differences between winter activities and Christmas activities and withholding this secret spot from him. 

But Lance at his core was a sweet soul. 

So, when he woke up on a day off to see families beginning to gather at the top of the hill, he made three calls. 

First to Rachel to bring the kids over. 

Then to Veronica, who had the baby pools for sliding in her garage.

And then to Keith. Because he was just that nice.

***

If Keith was put off by the three McClains all surrounding him, he didn’t show it. He was too busy dubiously eyeing the stack of plastic, bright blue pools Lance helped Veronica carry from her car.

Families were running around them, dragging trash can lids, cheap sleds, nice wooden ones, and other cheap sledding options up the hill. Everyone was dressed in thick layers to both ward off the cold and cushion the fall. 

Lance was thankful that Keith took his advice and was wearing gloves and a jacket that looked decently padded. 

Lance put his hands on his hips. “That looks like a Grinchy, ungrateful face.”

Keith shot him a look. “It’s a calculative and afraid I’m going to break my neck face.”

“Lame.”

Rachel huffed from where she was bucking her kids into helmets and shin guards from Lance’s old soccer days. “Sounds like Keith is much safer than you.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Veronica said cheerfully, shooting Lance a wink. 

It was evident the second Veronica pulled up that she was made painfully aware of Lance’s bet.

Lance shouldn’t have been surprised, Rachel probably called Veronica and told her everything right after she left the ice skating rink. 

Behind her glasses, her brown eyes were sparkling as she looked between Lance and Keith. 

Lance avoided eye contact. 

“So,” Keith tilted his head, hands curling with uncertainty. “Where do I hold?”

“Well, you will have a little in between your legs,” Lance said, nodding to Cam and Sophie. “I typically dig my heels into the edge and then hold onto the sides.”

“The… sides,” Keith nodded slowly. “Right.”

Lance stared at him. “You’re acting like you’ve never done this before.” 

Keith offered him one long, unimpressed blink. 

Lance’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit, you’ve never done this before.”

“We’ve discussed this,” Keith crossed his arms, ears going red. “Shiro’s lack of balance, Adam’s not sporty, I don’t know why you are surprised.”

Lance felt a sharp stab in his heart. 

Sure, Keith made it clear he didn’t like Christmas. His knowledge of winter games was rudimentary at best. 

But to never go sledding? It sounds juvenile and silly in Lance’s head, but it felt like such a gaping hole in Keith’s childhood. And Lance was suddenly determined to fix it. 

“Oh, wow,” Lance said, hastily switching gears because, shit, Keith was starting to look embarrassed, “then, uh–”

“I’ll take a twin!” Veronica jumped in brightly, dragging a pool free from the pile.

“Oh,” Lance could have hugged her. “Right! Good idea!”

“And Rach can take the other,” Veronica’s smile was growing, which was concerning, “and Lance, you take Keith through his first ride.”

“Right– what ?”

“There’s room in the pool,” Rachel added, joining the dark side. “Veronica and I go down together all the time.”

Lance had multiple arguments to refute that.

For starters, Veronica and Rachel were moderately tiny for adult women. Also, they made it down because they were practically in each other’s laps.

“Rach, two grown men aren’t gonna–”

“Or don’t help your bro learn how to go sledding,” his evil sister cut in dismissively, already loading herself and Sophie in a pool. 

Lance sighed.

Keith was already protesting. “Lance, I don’t need help , just tell me how to–”

Lance turned to face him. “Get in the pool.”

“But–”

“You are learning how to go sledding. Get in the pool for the sake of Christmas.”

Keith scowled but marched to the last pool. Cam giggled up at him as Veronica situated him in her lap. 

“Have fun guys!” Rachel called out with frankly wicked laughter as she pushed off the hill. 

Veronica quickly followed, Lance’s siblings and niblings sliding down the hill with shrieks of laughter.

Lance walked over to where Keith was pouting in the last pool.

“Don’t sulk,” Lance said. “And don’t make it weird.”

Keith opened his mouth to probably make it weird before Lance decisively stepped into the pool and dropped down behind Keith. 

Keith made a sound that resembled a cat hissing.

“Chill out, man,” Lance said with a roll of his eyes. “Lean forward to go faster, backward to go slower, left, right, you get it, right?”

Keith’s gloves gripped the edges tightly. “We are so going to eat shit.”

“Probably,” Lance said. “All for Saint Nick.”

He balanced a knee in the plastic pool, digging his other heel into the snow. 

“Ready?”

Keith offered a stiff nod. 

With that, Lance pushed off hard and hauled his leg into the pool. He sat down hard behind Keith, nearly toppling the pool. 

Keith’s hands tightened. “ Shit .”

“Relax!” Lance slid his legs to bracket where Keith was curled in a tight ball. “This is going to be fun.”

Lance couldn’t be more wrong, considering they were sledding at a snail’s pace. 

The pool was traveling slowly, too heavy to gain speed. Veronica and Rachel were already at the bottom of the hill and currently laughing their asses off at them. 

Keith slowly turned to raise an eyebrow at Lance.

His shoulder knocked against Lance’s. 

Lance felt his face get hot. 

“Hold on.”

Bracing his weight on the edges of the pool, Lance jumped out of the pool and shoved his feet as hard as he could into the snow. It served as a proper send off, the sled speeding up. With a grunt, Lance hefted himself back into the pool, his knees knocking into the edges as he tried his darnedst to not body slam Keith. 

They were gaining speed and Lance heard a hiccup of a laugh leaving Keith’s chest as he leaned forward, trying to get the pool to go even faster.

Lance could have made fun of Keith for it. But instead he leaned forward as well. 

“Come on, baby!” He shouted over the scrape of the plastic bottom against the snow, pounding against the side.

Soon, they were flying. Rocketing down the hill. 

A wild gasp left Keith as he gripped the edges. The speed caused his body to tilt back, his shoulders knocking into Lance’s chest. His hair slipped into Lance’s mouth and tickled his nose. It smelled like lemongrass.

Lance felt his heart thrum in time with the sled skittering against the snow. 

There was a rocky bump at the bottom but slowly, they slid to a stop. 

Keith’s hair was a mess from the wind, his shoulders bunched to his ears and breathing coming out in fast, clipped pants. 

Lance held his breath.

Keith turned to face him, smiling wide. “We’ve gotta do that again.”

Lance grinned back.

They scrambled out of the pool, moving just in time as Sophie came down shrieking with glee in Rachel’s lap. 

“I want to go with Keith!” She demanded the instant she spotted the two of them, flushed and grinning. 

Lance raised his arms in disbelief. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“Let Keith practice a little more, Soph,” Rachel said, looking at Lance with a sly smile. “Uncle Ants can make sure he’s a pro first.”

Touche, dear sister.

Lance and Keith each took a side of the pool and dragged it up the hill. They occasionally had to side-step a sledder or two, but for the most part, it was quiet.

“So,” Keith said, still slightly out of breath. “Baby pools?”

Lance shrugged. “They are cheap and virtually indestructible. My mom also found out blood washes real easily out of them.”

“Nice,” Keith snorted.

“The three of us used to do some extreme tricks,” Lance said with a laugh. “But our mom made us stop after she caught Veronica trying to do a handstand while sledding.”

“And I almost made it!” Veronica called from where she was carrying both Cam and the pool up the hill. 

Lance laughed, snagging a shot of Keith smiling over his shoulder.

Per Rachel’s request, they went down again. 

This time, Keith was a little more relaxed, stretching out his legs and bending and turning to accommodate Lance’s kick start.

The third time, Keith started to get a little daring. Had that glint in his eye and began to turn left and right. 

“Hear me out,” Lance said as they trudged up the hill. “Follow my lead next time.”
Keith grinned and nodded.

As they sailed down the hill, Lance gripped the left edge tightly. Keith followed suit and the two of them threw their body weight to the side. The pool spun, ripping down the hill in a vicious curve.

Keith’s body knocked into Lance’s, their knees slamming together, but a giddy, unrestrained laugh left Keith and Lance didn’t care about his throbbing legs.

Keith’s head leaned against Lance’s shoulder and Lance stared blankly down at the mess of dark hair and glittering eyes. 

He didn’t have time to think about the physics of it. 

What would happen when two grown men hit a curve at the bottom of the hill. 

The pool smacked against the bottom and popped and the two of them went flying. 

Lance hit the snow first, the slush sinking under his jacket, and then most of Keith’s body weight slammed into him. A strangled laugh left his chest as Keith’s jacket softened the blow, Keith’s thigh smacking against Lance’s shin and his shoulder ending up in Lance’s chest.

He wheezed and giggled and realized he wasn’t the only one. 

Keith’s face lifted from the snow and he was laughing harder than Lance had ever seen. His eyes were squeezed shut, red nose wrinkled and mouth open in a wide smile. His chest shook against Lance’s and Lance thought he might choke on his tongue. 

“Holy shit ,” Keith gasped for air, his breath clouding around his grin as he pushed himself to his elbows. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Lance snickered. “Told you it would be fun.”

Keith’s laughter faded into a teasing smile. “And I told you we were going to eat shit.”

“Two things can be right at the same time.”

Keith grinned down at him and around that point, Lance fully realized that Keith was on top of him. He could feel the hitch of Keith’s laughter, the strength in his arms and legs and a bunch of other things he had previously left to imagination. 

Keith’s face relaxed, softened, opening up at the edges in a way Lance hadn’t seen. 

His hair tickled Lance’s cheekbones.

Lance swallowed.

A pool skidded a stop next to them. 

“You guys alright?” Veronica called.

Instantly, Keith was rolling off him. “Yeah, we survived.”

Lance felt much colder without Keith pressed against him. He wanted to close his eyes and dedicate the feeling to memory.

A shadow overtook him. He blinked his eyes open to see Veronica leaning down over him with a satisfied grin. 

“I can’t believe that worked.”

“Shut up,” Lance closed his eyes. “I’m in denial.”

Veronica snickered.

***

Once he started sledding, Keith wouldn’t stop. 

He was happy to go over and over, sliding down the hill then dragging the pool back up every time. This worked well, considering Lance got tired after taking a twin down for the tenth time. 

It was fun, listening to them shriek with glee, warm and tiny between his legs, but Lance’s arms were dead from hefting the pool. 

But Keith didn’t seem close to slowing. 

This time, he was taking both of them down, Sophie locked in between his legs while Cam was sitting on his lap, snug in his arms.

(Lance realized after a moment he was seriously sitting here jealous of his five-year-old nephew.)

“So,” Veronica said as they watched Rachel push the three of them off. “What’s his deal?”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked, voice defensive.

“Rachel said he didn’t like Christmas,” Veronica said, not deterred by her brother’s attitude. “But here he is, taking five-year-olds on a sleigh ride. He’s practically out of a Hallmark movie.”

“Keith would define this as a winter activity.”

Veronica shot him a confused look. “As in something not Christmas?”

“Yup.”

“So, it doesn’t count for your bet.”

“Exactly.”

“So, why did you invite him?”

Lance froze, a snappish response dying on his throat. Leave it for Veronica to hit him where it hurts. 

“Well, I–”

“Because he’s hot,” Rachel called from where she stood, hands shielding her eyes from the sun, watching Keith sled down with her kids.

Lance let out a squawk of disbelief as Veronica cackled.

“That’s– not– he’s going to take my shift!”

“Probably,” Veronica agreed.

“Really?” Lance’s outrage faded into excitement. “You think I’ll win the bet?”

Veronica’s entertained smile fell into something almost pitying. “Sure, Lance.”

The sound of tinny laughter caused them to turn. Sophie had fallen into a pile of powdery snow. Keith had both of her tiny wrists in his hand, lifting her out of the snow and swinging her with a grin. Cam was wrapped around his back like a koala, smiling down at his sister.

“You know Cam,” Rachel said after a moment. “Sophie will get along with everyone, but Cam? He never gets comfortable with people this soon.”

“Remember Nyma?” Veronica said with a wry grin.

Lance scowled. “Yes, dear sister, we all remember Nyma.”

“Remember how Cam hated her? One year old and would quite literally shit his pants when she came into the room. The amount of diapers we had to change!”

“As much as I love this trip down memory lane,” Lance drawled, earning giggles from his sisters. “I’m gonna take over twin time since Keith needs to go to work.”

He worked hard to ignore the kissing sounds his cruel, mean sisters made as he trudged down the hill.

Thank you to divine_phoenix for the amazing art! Check them out here!

Thank you to somethinginmybones for this amazing art! Check them out!

Chapter Text

Lance watched Keith roll the newest ornament Lance gave him, a bright purple metallic orb, between his fingers thoughtfully.

Keith was studying Lance with a small, curious smile, as if trying to decide if he was serious. 

“You are actually asking me to go with you to Elf Night?”

Lance’s excited smile dropped to a scowl. “Well, if you are going to put it like that.”

Keith sucked his lips inside his mouth to hide his smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s fun!”

“It’s also the busiest night of the year for this side of the town,” Keith said with arched eyebrows. “Insane crowds, deafening music, the works.”

“Christmas lights, games, desserts, alcohol .”

Keith snorted as he turned to the register. “Oh, so you are liquoring me up again.”

“If that’s what it takes,” Lance was getting a little desperate.

There was little he wouldn’t do to get Keith to Elf Night. Sure, it was a little chaotic, a bit crazy, but it was the climax of the Christmas season. A four hour Christmas festival where attendees pursued several blocks of light shows, all with games, holiday treats, holiday drinks , and so on. It was one of Lance’s favorite part of the holiday, and the bet was all but lost if he didn’t bring Keith. 

Keith shrugged. “I’m working.”

“We close at eight! That’s two hours of festival fun!”

“I have inventory after.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “Leave that to me.”

He found Allura in the back office, flipping through a stack of boxes. Romelle was there as well, scribbling down something on a clipboard as Allura rattled off numbers at her. 

Lance leaned against the doorframe, waiting as patiently as he could. 

He watched the two women work. Technically, Romelle didn’t work at Castleship , working as a second-grade teacher at the local school. But while on winter break, she often came a couple hours a day to kill time and help with the rush. 

Lance found himself smiling as he watched the two of them. They worked in synchrony, Romelle nodding and not faltering as she confidently wrote down the report. Through his time working at the store and catching glimpses of their relationship, Lance realized how much he wanted that.

That equal and steady teamwork. 

“How can I help you, Lance?” Allura asked as she surveyed the clipboard.

Romelle waved at him, earning an equally eager wave from him in return. 

“Before I ask this, I will say that I am willing to offer both goods and services to convince you.”

Romelle giggled as Allura sighed, looking at him with interest.

“Yes?”

Lance clasped his hands together. “Please let Keith get out of inventory tonight.”

Allura rubbed her forehead. “Is this because of that ridiculous bet?”

“Yes, wait, how did you know about that?”

Romelle laughed. “Lance, even I knew. You dragged Keith Kogane out of his hole for Christmas. Shiro found out and told Adam and Adam told my principal at their book club and my principal told my co teacher and here we are.” 

“So,” Lance said eagerly. “Even more of a reason why you should let the poor kid out for the night.”

“As much as I would love to help you,” Allura crossed her arms. “I need an inventory count tonight to finalize our final order before Christmas.”

“Can’t someone else do it?” 

Allura shook her head. “I’m not asking Pidge, they just did it last night. And Hunk is leaving early to help Shay move a load of pastries down to Elf Night. Sorry, Lance.”

Lance sighed, picking at his fingernails, trying to think.

Romelle watched him, silently urging him on.

Lance tilted his head. “Do you need inventory tonight? Or before we open tomorrow?”

Allura lifted a carefully sculpted eyebrow. “I don’t like saving it for the morning, Lance.”

“Just this one!” He wheedled. “Please, Allura. I’ll do it myself tomorrow morning.”

Allura stared at him. “You’ll come in at five in the morning to do inventory?”

“Yes,” Lance said immediately. 

“Wow,” Allura and Romelle shared an impressed look. “All this for a date?”

Lance’s mouth fell open. “ What ? No! It’s all for the bet!”

“Allura and I make random bets all the time,” Romelle said, slyly nudging her hip against Allura’s. “You don’t see me coming into work early to win it.”

“That’s different, you two are already together.”

Romelle’s eyes sparkled. “ Already ?”

Lance’s brain short-circuited, stunned by his own Freudian slip.

“Alright, thanks Allura, love you!”

With that, he scuttled out of the room, with the sound of their laughter behind him. 

***

“How did you break me out?” Keith asked curiously as they walked to Lance’s car. “Allura never skips inventory.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Keith shot him a curious look and Lance prayed he would let it go. He wasn’t a huge fan of Keith finding out exactly how much sleep Lance was sacrificing to get Keith here. 

“So what’s your plan on avoiding the hour-long traffic jam?” Keith asked dryly as they settled in Lance’s car. 

“Easy,” Lance said, turning to look over his shoulder as he reversed. “Moderately illegal driving.”

Keith snorted as Lance skirted out of the parking spot, quickly maneuvering down the backstreets in hopes of getting downtown before the real rush started.

Thankfully, they made it, snagging a parallel parking space with a meter that Lance knew would cost half a leg.

Before Lance could get out his wallet, Keith beat him to it. 

“I got it,” he said, scanning his card.

“But, I dragged you here.”

“Shut up,” Keith muttered. “I got it.”

The meter was paid and the two of them faced the crowd. 

Elf Night was already in full swing. Christmas music blasted from speakers, some of the overhead lights coded to the rhythm and glittering in time with the beat. Red and white striped stalls filled the courtyard, ranging from crafting activities to local businesses selling treats or trinkets. 

Kids ran around, screeching with hands full of popsicle sticks or cotton balls. 

The courtyard was filling fast, families coming in the dozens. Snow bunched up on the corners of the stalls, being kicked aside or stomped on.

Lance checked his watch. It had only been open for fifteen minutes.

“Wow,” Keith said softly. 

Lance felt Keith’s elbow brush against his side, Keith taking a noticeable step closer to him. In his insistence to have Keith experience Elf Night, he hadn’t even thought about how overwhelming it was.

Lance turned, preparing to tell Keith to forget about it, to apologize, to brush this off and take him back to the car as quickly as possible. 

But Keith’s eyes were full of stars.

Lights reflected in his irises as he stared, open-mouthed, at the fanfare. His lips tilted up into a stunned smile, letting out a laugh of disbelief. 

There was something fragile in his gaze, delicate as his bright eyes swept the Christmas chaos. 

Keith looked like a kid again. 

“So,” Lance said, trying not to have too large of a smile. “What do you want to do first?”

They trailed through the market stalls, nibbling on peppermints, cookies, and a suspiciously good piece of fruit crake. Lance bought a necklace from a stall for his mother, and Keith lingered at a sale of vintage books. Lance wasn’t sure what Keith and the seller were talking about, but it sounded just a smidge pretentious. 

Despite the lofty way he spoke about classic book binding, Lance couldn’t help but watch Keith. 

His head tilted in thought as he studied the books. The dark turtleneck tucked under his leather jacket caused his pale skin to gleam in the flickering lights. The cold caused his cheeks and nose to flush. The seller said something to him and one of those rare genuine smiles crossed Keith’s face as he nodded. 

His teeth glinted in his smile and eyes flashed blue from a Christmas light display flickering above him and Lance felt like Keith maybe had never fit anywhere like he did in the middle of a market, dusted with snow and holding books in his hands.

Around this time was when Lance started looking for the alcohol.

***

“You’re trying to get me drunk.”

Lance didn’t fight his growing smile, merely shrugging. 

“Uh huh,” Keith’s grin wasn’t faltering either, lazy and open from the alcohol. “That’s what I thought.”

“I have to drive us home,” Lance said defensively. “So you have to review all the mulled wine for me.”

Keith smiled into his sample cup, tilting back the rest of it into his mouth. 

Lance stared at the long line of his neck and felt his mouth go dry. 

Keith made a face as he lowered the cup, tossing it into the trashcan near them. “Ugh, that one wasn’t nearly as good as the–the–”

“Ah,” Lance consulted the paper menu they were given. “The Glogg.”

“Right!” Keith grinned, jaw loose. “The Glogg.”

“The Glogg is number one for you?” Lance asked, his smile tilting dangerously.

“Definitely.”

“Weird,” Lance tapped the description. “Because that’s the Christmas one.”

Keith let out a dramatic sigh. “Dammit.”

“I know. Try to be brave.”

Keith dropped his chin into his fist, smiling lips dark from the wine. “I may need another to summon the courage.”

Keith was close. They were already crammed in the corner of the stretch of tables, forced to stand with no available barstools. They had been sharing a table with a couple that seemed to have abandoned their trash, but neither Lance or Keith made a move to take over the free space. 

Instead, they continued to brush shoulders and Keith smelled like wine and cinnamon and Christmas and Lance needed to focus. 

He managed a laugh and slid their half-eaten plate of poutine towards Keith. “Finish this first and I’ll get you another.”

Keith seemed more than happy to rise to the occasion, eagerly snagging a fry. 

“So,” Lance knitted his fingers together. “How is your first Elf Night treating you?”

“Oh, I’ve been here before,” Keith said absentmindedly, dragging a fry through the gravy.

“What?” Lance asked. 

“Yeah, when I was, like, twelve,” Keith’s eyes scrunched as he chewed, thinking hard. “Maybe eleven? I came with my foster family.”

Time slowed.

Lance felt his fingers flinch, heat crossing his face as he realized Keith was actually openly sharing something about himself. 

He held his breath and waited.

“I don’t remember much,” Keith said, scooping up some cheese. “I know I was stuck on babysitting duty. I did something to get in trouble, I think I got in a fight with one of the other kids? Anyways, I was technically grounded, which normally meant you were in charge of the younger ones.”

Lance studied him.

“I remember,” Keith let out a soft laugh, “I remember being so pissed that I had to stay with the little kids because it was so stressful keeping track of them. I was freezing and one of the girls kept crying and the others kept bickering.”

He trailed off, eyes seizing on something in the distance, his expression changing as he realized that he was talking about something he normally kept private.

His eyes dropped to the plate, chewing stalling then speeding up. 

“Anyways,” he said quickly, retreating, wiping his fingers with a napkin. “It was a nightmare.”

“Sounds like it,” Lance said gently. “I’m sorry that happened.”

Keith shrugged, averting Lance’s gaze as he turned, tossing the balled-up napkin into the trash.

“Thanks for telling me.”

Keith let out a strangled laugh, shaking his head. “Stop doing that.”

“What?”

Keith’s smile grew forced, pinned on his lips as his eyes flickered up to Lance’s face. “Thanking me for unloading on you.”

“You’re not,” Lance said. “I’m asking.”

Keith held his gaze, defiance hot in his eyes for a moment before it simmered.

He turned away, stepping back. “Where next?” 

***

As they walked down the garden tucked next to the courtyard, admiring the lights, Lance wondered if he had blown it.

If he shouldn’t have acknowledged Keith sharing in the first place. 

Because now Keith was quiet, lip buttoned as they traversed through the gardens. He didn’t look angry, casually sipping the spiked hot chocolate Lance bought them, but he was definitely watching himself. 

It also didn’t help that they were surrounded by couples. Lance tried to avoid looking at them, but they were everything. All holding hands or linking arms or leaning all over each other.

All Lance could do was pray that Keith hadn’t noticed. 

“Oh look,” Keith gestured to a presentation of a snowman dancing. “Becky.”

Lance’s shoulders relaxed. “How did she get over here?” 

“Yeah, I thought she was still melting on your lawn.”

Keith’s arm brushed against Lance’s. His arm erupted into goosebumps. 

“I don’t know, man, holiday magic.”

“Oh, I bet.”

As Keith paused to try and figure out exactly how they hung a cascading line of stars over their heads, Lance chugged the rest of his hot chocolate and tossed the cup in a trash can. He needed to get a grip. 

Keith’s attention was diverted. “Oh, holy shit .”

Barely looking Lance’s way, he pushed his cup into Lance’s chest and disappeared in the crowd. 

Lance frowned, quickly following. 

The walkway got crowded, Lance nearly tripped over like six glowing candy canes, breaking free to see a massive gated playpen filled with puppies.

There were at least a dozen, all different colors and fur types, yipping as they tripped over themselves and each other. Some of them were attentively running around the edges of the pin, looking up at the giggling kids and smiling parents. Others were playing with each other, most were distracted with the lights.

As Lance got closer, he saw an adoption sign from their town shelter posted above the pin. 

Convince people already high off Christmas cheer to adopt a puppy. Smart.

The throng around the pin was growing thicker and thicker, to the point that Lance didn’t know if he would find Keith. 

“Lance!” 

A hand shot out, wrapping around his arm and hauling him through the crowd. 

Lance stumbled, righting himself but leaning into a warm side.

Keith’s warm side, their hips knocking together as Keith leaned even closer to point into the pin.

“Look at that one, tucked in the back.”

Lance followed Keith’s finger to where a small puppy, dark fur that almost looked like a Husky, was lying on his back, paws flapping as he swatted at the lights in the trees far above him. 

The dog was mainly being ignored due to the puppies already vying for everyone’s attention, but Keith couldn’t tear his eyes away.

His mouth was drawn in what looked like a permanent smile as he leaned against the gate, his body instinctively pushing to get closer.

“I think he thinks the lights are stars,” Keith said quietly, voice awed.

Lance hummed in agreement, looking up at the string lights. “Imagine thinking that you can touch the cosmos. Amazing god complex.”

Keith snorted. 

Lance leaned into him. “Reminds me of someone.” 

Keith shoved him with a grin. 

***

While Lance had been so focused on beating the opening traffic, he didn’t even think about the traffic when it closed.

He groaned as they turned a corner to find a sea of brake lights. Keith chuckled as Lance slumped back in his seat.

“Sorry,” Lance checked his watch. “It’s late and this is definitely going to take a while.”

“It’s fine,” Keith shrugged. “I don’t work tomorrow.”

(Lance resisted a shudder remembering his deal with Allura.) 

Stuck with his foot pressed on the brake, Lance really had nothing else to do but to watch Keith. 

Keith was loose and content from the alcohol, eyes lazy as he studied the Christmas lights.

“This was fun,” he said, so soft Lance almost thought he imagined it. “Thanks for taking me.”

Lance’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Of course.”

Keith’s head lolled as he turned to look at Lance. “Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“This whole stupid bet,” Keith said, words clunky in his mouth. “Making me like Christmas.”

“Well, I want my shift–”

“C’mon,” Keith exhaled. “Getting me to cover your shift doesn’t need this much work.”

“Maybe not,” Lance breathed. “But getting you to love Christmas does.”

Keith held his gaze for a moment longer before sighing and facing the windshield. 

“You have your work cut out for you,” Keith said. “I’ve enjoyed the past two weeks, but the holidays will always put a bad taste in my mouth.”

Lance’s thumbs dug into the steering wheel and the questions burned and boiled over in his mouth until he finally found no other option than to push.

“Why?”

For a moment, Keith said nothing. 

He looked up at the stars, the moon, the sprinkling of holiday lights around the lamp posts.

“I lied to you earlier.”

Lance’s breath caught.

“I told you I didn’t remember what fight I got in to have to babysit during Elf Night,” Keith let out a sigh. “But I do. It was because one of the foster boys tried telling one of the little girls that Santa wasn’t real.”

Lance felt his chest hollow. 

“Her name was Caroline,” Keith said quietly. “She was working on her Christmas list and, god , he just wouldn’t leave her alone. And he was about to tell this five-year-old that Santa wasn’t real and I put a stop to it.”

He lowered his eyes, picking at a rip in his jeans.

“The foster parents weren’t thrilled,” he closed his eyes. “And it was so stupid, I mean, he just told her the next day. And I was stuck with taking her through Elf Night, all while she had just figured out it all wasn’t real.”

“Keith,” Lance whispered.

“And that’s just one story,” Keith said, eyes still closed. “That’s just one stupid memory about the holidays. There are more. There are too many. So don’t ask me. Because you don’t want to know.”

“What if I do?” Lance breathed. 

Keith opened his eyes. “All for a bet?”

Lance wanted to scream.

Keith’s eyes felt impossible and the shadows cut a strong line over his cheekbone. He looked intolerably handsome and for a single moment, Lance allowed the denial to slip. He wanted to cup Keith’s face and sink his fingers into his hair and tell him that this all wasn’t for a bet. 

It was for something else, something building in Lance’s chest that he felt might burst out through his ribcage. 

Keith smelled like snow and pine and everything he hated and Lance just wanted to get closer. 

Lance wanted to know because he was quickly realizing there was nothing about Keith Kogane he didn’t want to know. 

And as the traffic began to move again and as Lance dragged his eyes back to the road and as Keith cleared his throat and straightened and as Lance watched the time ticking away to his 4 AM wake-up, there was one thought rattling around in his brain. 

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Lance had a lot of things to think about during his early inventory shift. 

He had the whole store to himself, the aisles and displays seemed longer and larger in the quiet morning.

Every sound he made felt like it ricocheted along the walls.

“And that’s just one story.”

He ripped open the cardboard boxes, checking the quality of all of the toys they had delivered. He paced the displays, counting the remaining products, making a note if it needed to be added to the last order before Christmas.

“That’s just one stupid memory about the holidays. There are more.”

Lance swore that inventory shifts always went by quickly, but this one seemed to crawl.

He was exhausted, eyelids heavy from spending too much time the night before staring at the ceiling. 

“There are too many. So don’t ask me. Because you don’t want to know.”

Normally, Lance didn’t mind opening the store. He typically left it to Hunk and Keith, the early birds, but sometimes he found the quiet a nice time to think. 

But he would have much preferred to not have to think at all. 

Because thinking meant remembering last night. Remembering the childish awe on Keith’s face, the loose turn of his smile after a couple mulled wines, the devastatingly open look as he studied Lance in the car.

The quiet of the store caused Lance to realize actually how deep he was.

He wasn’t sure how he managed to get this far without realizing.

Lance tapped the pen against the corner of the clipboard, letting out a low sigh.

He surveyed the store. Cracked his neck and yawned.

He moved to the next shelf. 

And tried his best to not think about the sharp cut of Keith’s jaw. 

***

Lance managed to focus enough to finish inventory before Hunk came to open. 

He placed his notes on Allura’s desk, drew a smirking smiley face on a Post-It note and pasted it on top, and locked up the store. 

The street was empty, most of the shops still closed. Lance yawned again. He needed coffee. 

Balmera’s was still closed. He rubbed his eyes, scanning the open signs in the windows of their neighboring stores. 

He paused at the Garrison , seeing the bright OPEN sign and the tiny cafe tucked in the corner. 

You know what, Lance thought, what the hell?

With a tremendous step forward, Lance walked into the bookstore.

It was empty, no one in sight, and immediately Lance regretted his decision. He took a step back, planning to quickly evacuate, until Shiro’s head appeared from around an aisle. 

He looked as insanely good-looking as ever, his strong figure tucked into a dark crewneck under the brown apron. 

He grinned at Lance. “Hey, Lance! What can I do for you?”

“Uh,” Lance hoped his face wasn’t too red. “Would it be a dick move to ask for coffee?”

“Of course not,” Shiro said warmly, walking over, wiping his hand on his apron. “That’s what it’s here for.”

Lance followed him, hesitating before sliding on one of the multicolored barstools. He watched Shiro slip on the other side of the counter, nodding at him expectantly.

“What were you thinking?”

Lance dropped his chin on his fist. “Something Christmassey.”

Shiro grinned. “I can do that.”

He set to work and Lance, now realizing that he was rapidly entering an awkward silence with Keith’s brother, turned the stool in a small circle.

“I didn’t realize you guys opened this early.”

“Not normally,” Shiro said. “I thought it would be good for the holidays. We are trying it out, seeing if we attract anyone.”

Lance nodded thoughtfully. It was cozy, warm and bright compared to the cold winter morning. 

“So,” Shiro said after a moment. “Heard you managed to drag Keith to Elf Night.”

Lance felt his cheeks go hot as he slowly swiveled back to face the counter. “Yes, I guess I did.”

Shiro smiled at him over his shoulder. “You must be a miracle worker. Adam and I have been trying to convince him to come with us for years. He had a bad experience at one.”

“Yeah,” Lance tried to not wince. “He mentioned it.”

Shiro looked over at him again, surprise crossing his features. “Wow. I’m glad he told you.”

Lance watched Shiro as he poured the coffee into a cup, frothing the cream with an expert touch.

“Do you think he could get over it?” Lance asked hesitantly. “His thing with Christmas?”

Shiro thought about that for a moment, pouring the cream over the coffee. 

“I don’t know if it’s something he gets over,” Shiro said finally. “I think it’s something he accepts.”

“Right,” Lance grimaced, hating his own words. “Sorry, calling it something to get over makes it sound like it's not a big deal. I didn’t–”

“Hey,” Shiro cut in gently with an encouraging smile. “I know what you meant.”

He handed Lance the cup, resting his elbows on the counter.

“And if I was a betting man, I would put money on you being the one to help him accept it.”

Lance smiled awkwardly, fiddling with the lid and a little unsure of what to say.

Shiro tilted his head, watching Lance. “Can I give you some advice?”

“Please.”

“Give him something to do with his hands,” Shiro said. “He doesn’t like doing things only to be watched the whole time. It makes him overthink, he thinks you expect some kind of performance from him.”

Shiro tapped the counter between them. 

“Give him something to do and focus on, and you’ll get more honesty out of him than anything else.”

***

“It’s official,” Keith said the moment he opened his door. “Introducing you to Shiro was probably the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

Lance had a comeback prepared. He had something funny for the exact moment that Keith opened the door. 

But he hadn’t expected Keith to look so adorable after rolling out of bed.

He still looked half asleep, hair disheveled and pushed in his half-lidded eyes. He was wearing a faded college sweatshirt and boxer shorts, fuzzy socks shrugged up to his ankles.

Keith leaned against his doorframe, blinking sleep out of his eyes at Lance’s lack of response. 

“So,” he yawned. “What do you have to entertain me today?”

Lance wordlessly held up his hand with two Garrison coffees and lifted the other hand full of shopping bags.

Keith eyed them both, then opened the door wider.

“Make yourself at home,” he said dryly, waving at the living room. 

The rather nondescript living room. Lance tried to not snoop too much. It overall looked like the standard college apartment, mismatched furniture likely bought off Facebook market, chipped coffee table, TV sitting on a feeble stand. 

The kitchen looked decently stocked and Lance was a little impressed by the collection of coffee mugs he had stacked in the corner on the counter.

It was neat and organized and shockingly Keith. 

“Give me two minutes for a shower,” Keith yawned. 

As he walked towards the bedroom, he stretched, revealing a thin line of skin that Lance stared rather helplessly at. 

“Don’t snoop too hard,” Keith called over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. 

And just because he said that, just because he clearly knew Lance a little too well, Lance determinedly did not snoop. 

He sat the coffee and bags on the coffee table, quickly taking out and organizing his supplies. 

By the time Keith returned from his shower, with much brighter eyes and dressed in a crewneck sweater and sweatpants, Lance had it all neatly arranged.

The gingerbread house pieces were stacked in equal pairs, with tubes of icing laid next to them. Lance had a whole variety of candy decorated, all color-coded along the plastic tablecloth he spread over the coffee table.

Lance had thought of everything. Judging by the flicker of an impressed smile on Keith’s face, he agreed.

“Wow,” Keith said with a soft chuckle, taking a seat on the floor across from Lance. “You really pulled out all the works.”

“I take gingerbread houses very seriously.”

“I bet,” Keith examined the gingerbread closely. “You don’t believe in making the gingerbread yourself?”

“I try to give myself attainable goals.”

Keith snickered.

Lance thought that he would have to give Keith a gentle nudge. Do something to get him on his way to decorating. 

But not even a moment after, Keith picked up his tube of icing and began icing a foundation on the plate. 

Lance stared blankly at Keith for a moment, before coming to and beginning his own house. 

For the first ten minutes, they worked in silence.

There were only the sounds of icing being squeezed out of the bags and the scrape of gingerbread against the plate.

Lance shot glances at Keith whenever he could. 

Keith was locked in, completely focused as he assembled his house. His brow was knit in concentration as he carefully balanced two walls together. 

Lance swallowed. 

“You’re pretty good at this,” Lance said, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible as he lined his wall with icing. “Have you made one of these before?”

“Not a Christmas one,” Keith said immediately. “But the grocery store down the street sells a version for Halloween. Adam and I have been getting them for the past few years.”

“That’s cool,” Lance carefully placed his wall down. “Who’s better?”

Keith’s dismissive huff was answer enough. 

Lance tried not to smile. Shiro was right. Lance could see the difference immediately, the relaxed shoulders, contemplative expression. Keith just needed something to take the attention off him. 

“Fuck, marry, kill,” Lance said, earning a scoff from Keith. “The mulled wine from last night, the vintage books, or the surprisingly good fruitcake.”

Keith shook him an exasperated look. “What an insane question.”

“Indulge me.”

Keith slowly adjusted the roof on his gingerbread house, holding it while he thought. 

“Fuck the wine, marry the books, kill the fruitcake.”

Lance let out a gasp. “You would just dine and dash the Grogg?”

“Yes,” Keith said seriously.

“Hm,” Lance pressed his walls together. “I just feel like the Grogg needs more love than that. I could give it all the love in the world if I tasted it.”

“If the Grogg means that much to you,” Keith said, eyes locked on his roof, “I’m sure we can find somewhere that sells it.”

Lance froze. Nearly squeezed the icing so tightly it squirted everywhere because either he was hallucinating or Keith just volunteered to do a Christmas activity.

And judging by the way Keith blinked and slowly looked up at Lance, he realized the same thing.

Lance kept his face carefully neutral. “I may take you up on that. I’ll get crunk off the Grogg and you can take my messy ass home.”

Keith snorted.

Their houses were sound and built and Keith reached for the tiny gingerbread men that came with the package and a handful of other candy.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence again. Lance was ensuring that every single one of his gumdrops on the roof were in an appealing color scheme, and Keith seemed much too preoccupied in whatever he was doing.

Lance dared to push a little more.

“My family is having our Bake-Off tomorrow.”

Keith arched an eyebrow, eyes not moving from his house as he reached for a tube of red icing. “What’s that?”

“We all get into teams and make cookies. Whichever has the best cookies wins. Then we divide them and take them home.”

“Seems simple enough.”

“Oh, Keith, it’s anything but. It’s a warzone.” 

Keith shot him a dubious look. 

“It’s perilous,” Lance continued. “Last year, Veronica stole my recipe off my phone and leaked it to the others.”

“Really?”

“Can you believe that? All because I called her cookies trash or something like that.”

“Ah.”

Lance lined up another row of gumdrops, eyes flicking between Keith and his construction.

“You’re invited.”

Keith paused. 

“If you want to,” Lance quickly added. “It’s stupidly intense and we get competitive, but we aren’t that crazy, I promise. And Cam and Sophie would love to see you, since apparently you’re cooler than me now.”

Keith slowly met his gaze. “Sorry, I, uh, I work tomorrow.”

Lance clicked his tongue, realizing that he had forgotten to check the schedule before throwing the offer out. He nodded quickly, returning to his icing, trying to not wonder whether Keith had the early shift, whether he was busy the whole day or just using it as an excuse–

“But I could come after.”

Lance’s head shot back up.

Keith was now determinedly not looking at him, pink rising up his neck.

“I get off at two,” he said quietly. “If it’s still happening.”

“Oh,” Lance was smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. “It’ll be happening.”

***

“Keith,” Lance heard the horror in his own voice. “Now, what the hell is that?”

Keith smirked, crossing his arms. “It’s a gingerbread house.”

Lance gaped at it. “It’s a massacre .”

The two gingerbread cookies were broken in pieces with red icing splattering over the crumbles. He had even drawn out chalk tracings with icing and used half of a sour candy stripe for a crime scene.

“I told you,” Keith snickered. “I typically do the Halloween version.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared,” Lance leaned in closer. “Is that a Twizzler noose ?”

Thanks to tamaytsuki for this amazing art! Check them out!

Chapter Text

Lance could feel Veronica’s eyes on him as he checked his watch for the fifteenth time that hour.

“Don’t,” he said without even looking up. 

“I didn’t say anything!” Veronica said with a laugh.

“You were about to.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Try me!” He leaned over the counter towards the living room. “Mom! Veronica is sabotaging me!”

Veronica flicked a handful of flour his way.

“Play nice, you two!” Their mother called from where she was helping Sophie color a paper Christmas tree. 

“I’m always nice,” Veronica said matter-of-factly, earning a light laugh from their mom.

Lance was pretty sure that Ana McClain’s laugh was the best sound in the world. 

She laughed with her whole body, shoulders tilted back as she lifted her head, eyes squeezed shut and face lifted in a smile. It had always been a goal between the three siblings for them to make their mom laugh. It was probably what made them all so quick to make fun of each other. 

“Leave Lance alone,” Rachel said as she returned from the fridge, lowering her cookie dough on the counter. “Everyone gets nervous when they bring a boyfriend home.”

“ Rach. ” 

Veronica snickered into what was definitely her fourth spiked eggnog.

“You two suck,” Lance hoped he wasn’t blushing as hard as he thought he was, hastily rolling out his own dough. “We are friends.”

“Friends with…?” Veronica trailed off questioningly. 

“Benefits?” Rachel slipped in with a sly smile, elbowing Lance. “Potential? Unresolved tension? A proclivity for angsty and pining looks?”

“I’m returning your Christmas gifts,” Lance said. “Coal for everyone.”

His sisters cackled and Lance made a mental note to forbid alcohol at the next Bake-Off. Inebriated McClain sisters and an unaware Keith was quickly growing into a dangerous combination. 

“Name your price,” Lance sighed, resigned.

“For what?” Veronica grinned evilly.

“For you two to not ruin this for me.”

Twin looks of delight lit up their faces. “Ruin what for you?”

Lance glared at both of them until they sighed.

“What do you think?” Veronica tapped her finger on her chin, looking at Rachel.

“Oh,” Rachel smiled evilly. “I know exactly what I want you to do.”

***

Lance hated his sisters with a ferocity that would level planets.

The doorbell rang and the two of them dropped to their knees, laughing so hard they were red in the face.

“Mama!” Lance hollered as he marched to the door. “Stop with the heavy pours in the eggnog!”

Another delightful laugh from the living room caused his shoulders to relax a little as he opened the door.

“Hi!” He said. “Glad you found it.”

Keith looked even more amazing than normal. Instead of his typical uniform of a hoodie and ripped jeans that he wore under his work apron, today he was dressed in a dark garnet sweater and his jeans were neat and intact. Most of his piercings were taken out or replaced with studs.

Lance realized that he had actually, intentionally , dressed nice.

Which only made the humiliation worse. 

Lance smiled as wide as he could, mentally begging Keith to look at his face.

But instead Keith was gaping at his torso with the strangest look on his face. 

“What,” Keith’s throat spasmed in a clear effort to fight back a laugh, “is that?”

Lance’s head dropped in resignation. 

“Rachel is a savage beast and I owed her a favor.”

Keith continued to stare with an awed horror. 

Lane was wearing an apron that was such a vibrant red it burned your eyes. Emblazoned over the chest was glitter text reading kiss the Christmas cook. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a felt mistletoe branch was sewn over his stomach, the lewd intention clear as it hung over the lower part of the apron. 

Rachel’s husband won it at a White Elephant party years ago, and it had since been a staple of embarrassment at the Bake-Off.

“I,” Keith let out a laugh, “I actually can’t believe that.”

“I don’t recommend having sisters,” Lance said dryly, stepping to the side and hoping he wasn’t as red in the face as he feared. “Come on in.”

As Keith stepped past him, entering the McClain household, Lance tried to envision in new eyes.

He looked at the mess of shoes tucked by the door, leading Keith to automatically kick off his sneakers. The stained and worn wooden floors, the wobbly staircase railing from too many tugs. Bright blue walls covered with family photos, showing the family line from his grandparent’s to Rachel grinning and holding the twins.

Keith looked lost in thought as his eyes roamed the foyer. 

“Uh, kitchen’s down here,” Lance said, sliding past him and walking down the hallway. “The she-devils should be hard at work.”

True to their promise, Veronica and Rachel were calmly mixing ingredients, offering Keith friendly smiles. Rachel was still a little red around her cheeks and neck from laughing, but she mercifully said nothing. Her eyes dropped to the apron.

“Sorry, Keith, ignore Lance’s crude apron. He insisted on wearing it, saying it’s his lucky apron.”

“Was it his lucky apron?” Veronica asked curiously. “Or his get lu–”

“Ignore them!” Lance said loudly. “They are drunk.”

His sisters bit back their giggles. 

“Wow,” Keith’s eyes were wide as he looked around at the trays on trays of cookies. 

Just about every surface in the kitchen was covered with cookies, either bowls of dough or raw cookie shapes or ones cooling and waiting to be decorated.

“Let me show you ours,” Lance put a hand on Keith’s shoulder and led him to the corner of the kitchen. Under a cupboard covered with Christmas cards they received, Lance had his cookie trays resting. 

“Okay,” he pointed at each. “These are gingerbread, those chocolate chip, these are just sugar but I’m pretty sure Rachel sabotaged them.”

“How long have you been at this today?” Keith asked incredulously. 

“Too long.”

“Keith!”

The two of them turned to see Sophie excitedly running over, Cam shyly following. While Sophie had no qualms about throwing her arms around Keith’s legs, Cam settled with standing next to her and staring up at Keith. 

Keith stared back at them, clearly a little unsure of what to do. “Uh, hi guys.”

Lance’s mom followed the two of them, smiling. “You must be Keith.”

“That’s me,” Keith seemed to shrink into himself a little as he smiled sheepishly. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. McClain.”

“Call me Ana,” she said with a dismissive wave. “And we are happy to have you.”

His mother smiled sweetly up at Keith and Lance took a second to love his mom. She had rolled pretty easily with the whole bombshell of Work Keith actually isn’t that much of an asshole and he is actually kinda a close friend of mine now and can he join tomorrow? 

She had also dutifully ignored his sisters’ teasing, which likely wouldn’t last forever and Lance knew he should start bracing himself for that conversation.

“If Lance gets an assistant, I want one,” Veronica put her hands on her hips, surveying Cam and Sophie. “Who wants to help?”

“Me!” Sophie said loudly. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” Lance’s mom asked Keith as chaos unfolded behind her, the loud scrape of chairs being moved so the kids could reach the counter.

“I’m alright,” Keith said hastily. “Thank you though.”

Lance frowned at that but allowed it to slide. 

“So,” Keith asked as the two of them were left to their devices in their corner. “What’s next?”

Lance grinned. “Now we make the scones.” 

***

Baking, with four adults, two of them liquored up, and two five-year-olds crammed in one kitchen got chaotic quickly.

They ran out of flour, which in the morning had felt like an impossible feat. Lance’s father, a gentle giant of a man that was previously happy to mind his business in the living room, was all too grateful to have an excuse to leave the house. 

Veronica spilled an entire bottle of vanilla extract. Sophie had sprinkles everywhere. Cam’s face was smeared with chocolate. 

Lance was worried it would be too much. That his family, his life, was too much. He waited for Keith to flinch away, to find an excuse to leave.

But instead, Keith seemed to thrive in it. 

He took the competition seriously and was quick to move things to their advantage. Whether it was nimble fingers snagging the sought after cookie cutters, peeking at the other recipe cards, or egging on for their opponents to drink more, he was a brilliant addition to Lance’s side.

There was a fierce rock-paper-scissors competition for the oven, where Keith won against Rachel. 

Cam couldn’t stop eating the chocolate peppermint dough Keith made, little fingers swiping from the mixing bowl whenever he thought someone wasn’t looking.

“So,” Lance said, leaning against the counter and watching Keith mix in more peppermint flavor into the bowl. “Where did you get this recipe?”

“One of my old foster moms used to make them,” Keith said in that terrible casual way of his. “They were so good that I figured out how to make them even after I left.”

He rolled out the dough onto a sheet of parchment and shot Lance a sly look. “Peppermint is not a Christmas flavor, before you go down that route.”

“Oh really?” Lance leaned closer. “What time of year did she make them?”

Keith didn’t respond to that, pushing back a smile as he smoothed out the dough. 

“Look at that,” Lance said quietly. “We found one Christmas thing you did with your own free will.”

Keith huffed at that as he reached for his pile of recently pilfered cookie cutters. “Go and find something to sabotage Veronica.”

“Yes sir.”

With that, Lance backpedaled, spinning on his heel and cheerfully walking over to where Veronica’s orange gingersnap dough was not looking right at all.

“Maybe it needs a little more flour.”

“Don’t look at me,” Veronica said, glaring at her recipe. “Your smugness is palpable.”

“What smugness?” 

“Soph, Cam,” Rachel brandished a spatula towards Lance. “Behold, a sore winner.”

“I haven’t won anything,” Lance countered with a wry smile. “It’s not my fault I’m just good at everything.”

Veronica flashed him her middle finger, but not before their mother spotted her and shot her a stern look. 

Lance happily returned to Keith tucked in the corner, carefully cutting out candy cane shapes.

“I successfully psyched both of them out and got Veronica in trouble with Mom.”

“Wow, impressive.”

“What can I say?” Lance leaned against the counter, stretching. “When you grow up with two sisters, you get good at psychological warfare.”

Keith chuckled at that. “It’s cool, seeing you three together.”

Lance arched an eyebrow. “It’s cool watching me get mercilessly bullied?”

“You guys are so close,” Keith continued. “Shiro and I are too, but, I mean, we have only known each other for like nine years.”

Keith looked up at Lance through his fringe.

“We didn’t grow up together,” he said softly. “Makes me sometimes feel like I missed out.” 

***

By five in the afternoon, the Bake-Off was concluded. 

Rachel’s husband and Lance’s father were deemed the judges. 

Keith’s peppermint chocolate cookies won by a landslide. 

Lance watched as Keith left, clutching a Tupperware container filled to the brim off all the different cookies. 

His mom wrapped an arm around him. “What a sweet boy.”

“Yeah,” Lance leaned against her despite having almost a foot of height over her. “He is.” 

Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at him. “Can I ask?”

Lance sighed. He knew that this had been coming. “Ask what?” 

She patted his arm. “Your sisters had a lot to say about you and Keith.”

“Ignore them.”

“Okay,” she said easily before glancing at him again. “Are they right?”

“They are just trying to see something that’s not there,” Lance said quietly. 

“Hm,” his mother looked up at him. “If it’s not actually there, then why could I see it too?”

Chapter Text

Lance was trying not to panic. 

Castleship was unfathomably busy. Families were spilling in, frantically finding gifts before parties or traveling. 

Everyone was on the floor, Pidge and Hunk running the registers while Allura gift-wrapped. Coran was like a blur around the store, ensuring there were no spills or dropped toys. That left Keith and Lance to assist haggard and frustrated customers.

Lance could feel his Christmas spirit dying slowly as he finished explaining to a not-so-patient mother that, yes, they were out of the newest Barbie. He was exhausted, his feet hurt, and he had spent most of the night before awake and staring at his ceiling, thinking about what his mom had said. 

“If it’s not actually there, then why could I see it too?” 

He hadn’t decided whether there was something concrete to what she said, or whether she was just excited about meeting someone Lance brought home. He should have thought more of the inferences his family would make after meeting Keith. He also should have thought about how it would make him feel.

Lance’s eyes felt heavy and he fought back a yawn as he straightened a stack of plastic piano keyboards. 

Across the store, Keith was doing a much better job of hiding his annoyance, nodding calmly as a man spoke to him, pointing to the empty stand of toy drones.

Lance closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. 

If Anti-Christmas Keith could keep a lid on his attitude, then Lance could too. 

But the store was loud and Lance could feel the high-pitched young giggles and shrieks digging in and if he had to help a Karen one more time —

His phone buzzed. Quickly, he glanced at it.

rach: the twins are excited to see you! Let me know when you leave Castleship!

Lance’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He had completely forgotten he had agreed to babysit the kids. 

Dimly, he felt the slow rise of panic quicken. He was exhausted and getting close towards being unbearable and had no idea how he would be Uncle Ants after this shift.

“Excuse me,” a snappish voice cut in. 

Lance turned to see a short, blonde woman with a nasty look on her face, holding a crinkled receipt between her long, manicured nails.

“I have an online order,” she continued sharply, eyes narrowed. “And I cannot find the order anywhere. This is ridiculous! How do you expect customers to find their orders if you have everything in a disorganized mess?”

Lance honest-to-God tuned her out. 

His hearing tunneled, making her voice even more tinny. He could feel his blood pressure rising, face growing hot as he tried very hard to not rudely interrupt the woman’s tirade.

She was getting louder, cheeks blooming red, and Lance caught you should be ashamed and this is inexcusable and I will expect a refund if and then Keith was in front of him.

“What’s the problem?” Keith asked, not unkindly.

Lance blinked slowly, registering that Keith’s sweater looked much too soft and smelled a little like sugar from stocking the supplies for the portable cotton candy machines. 

Keith examined the receipt, nodding mindlessly to whatever the woman was saying. Lance stupidly stared at the way his hair curved along his neck, the way his jaw tensed as he pushed back whatever he wanted to say to the woman. 

“We keep our orders upstairs with the rest of our inventory,” Keith said calmly. “See here? On the order it explains for customers to come up to the register and give them the receipt.”

The woman sputtered for a moment.

“But don’t worry, mistakes happen,” Keith said with a smile that even Lance’s panic-addled brain was able to acknowledge was sexy. “We can help you instead.”

He handed Lance the receipt. 

“Lance, can you grab her order from upstairs?”

Lance nodded, taking the save for what it was. He nearly ran up the stairs, rounding the corner and marching into their storage with a groan. He shut the door, breathing out as the noise from the store silenced.

He took a moment, breathing carefully, clenching and unclenching his hands, before searching their orders. 

His heart was still racing and he still felt a little raw at the edges when he dug out the order, a stuffed caterpillar. The door opened and Lance turned to see Keith quickly shutting it behind him. 

“Hey,” Lance suddenly felt a cold slap of embarrassment.“Sorry about that, I found the order–”

“Are you okay?”

Lance stopped. Keith was walking over to him, searching his face with an uncharacteristic amount of concern on his face.

“Fine.”

“You don’t do that,” Keith continued. 

Lance’s throat felt dry. “Do what?”

“You are the best with customers,” Keith said. “I’m the one that always needs saving.”

“Well,” Lance hated how clipped his voice was. “I guess I just wanted to switch it up.”

With that, he brushed past Keith, reaching towards the door.

“Lance.”

Keith’s fingers, cool and callused, wrapped around his clammy ones.

Lance froze, heart ricocheting up from his stomach to his throat. He hated the way he choked around his heartbeat, feeling the exhaustion and panic and overwhelming feeling that he was on the brink of something return. 

“Don’t do that,” Keith said quietly. “Don’t brush me off.”

There was a lump growing in Lance’s throat.

“What’s wrong?”

Lance sighed, turning back to face Keith, pulling his fingers from Keith so he could somewhat focus. He looked at the ceiling to avoid big gray eyes watching him worriedly. It was too much to see that kind of emotion for him in Keith. 

He gripped the caterpillar with both of his hands. “I just didn’t sleep well and today has sucked and I forgot I have to babysit tonight and then that lady just completely knocked me off my game. I just need to get my shit together and prepare myself for being around Cam and Soph tonight. It’s fine, I’m fine .”

Keith tilted his head slightly. “When?”

Lance blinked. “When what?”

Keith shrugged. “When are you babysitting? I could help, if you wanted. If Rachel was cool with it.”

Lance stared at him like he grew another head.

“You are seriously offering to babysit after this shift of hell?”

Keith looked confused. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? It’s the least I can do?”

“Least you can do?” Lance asked. “For what?”

Keith’s smile veered into something shy. “For always saving me.”

***

Rachel opened the door with a bright grin. 

“Hi Lance– Keith!” She let out a happy gasp, pulling him into a hug. 

“We have got to stop openly favoring Keith over me,” Lance deadpanned as Keith awkwardly patted her on the back. 

“Must be a family trait,” Rachel winked at Lance over Keith’s shoulder. 

She stepped back and gestured them inside. 

“Thanks for doing this, guys,” she said, smoothing down the ends of her dress nervously. “Though, if I’m being honest, I would have been grateful for the out.”

“Heard that!” Frankie, Rachel’s husband, called down the hall. 

Rachel shrugged. “I’m not one for faculty parties.”

“Same,” Keith said with a sympathetic wince. 

“He’s just scared because Pidge and I were put in charge of our staff Christmas party,” Lance puffed his chest with pride. “I’m making the Jell-O shots.”

Keith and Rachel looked equally scandalized.

Right on time, Frankie charged into the room with two squealing twins, already dressed in matching Christmas pajamas. He grinned as he deposited Sophie into Lance’s arms before lowering Cam to his feet. 

Cam blinked up at Keith with a shy smile. 

“Okay guys,” Rachel knelt down towards Cam, smoothing down his curls. “Uncle Ants and Keith are going to hang out while Mommy goes and tries to smuggle in a flask to Daddy’s stuffy work party.”

Frankie sighed and Lance fist-bumped his sister.

“Pizza’s in the freezer, there’s a S-H-I-T ton of craft supplies in the closet,” Rachel winked at Lance. “We are going cheap this year and having them make our Christmas cards. Cheap, cute, and no one can say no to a mutilated paper snowflake from a five-year-old.”

“Clever.”

“She brought the brains,” Frankie said with a shrug as he opened the door.

“They will probably be dead on their feet by eight, but if you want to give them an extra thirty minutes as an Uncle Ants privilege, I don’t care,” Rachel waved at them. “Have fun, but not too much fun. I’ll know if–”

“Don’t scare them off,” Frankie chuckled, steering his wife out the door.

“Bye!” Rachel called. 

The door shut and the four of them stood there for a moment. 

Sophie beamed at Lance and he immediately felt himself start to relax.

Cam tugged on Keith’s fingers. “Do you want to see my trucks?”

“Oooo,” Lance said eagerly. “Cam’s truck collection is top secret. You’re a lucky man, Keith.”

Keith chuckled, following Cam into the twins’ bedroom.

“Let’s check out these crafts, Soph,” Lance swung Sophie over into the living room, eyeing the paper and markers on the coffee table. “I see my sister is a big fan of child labor this year.”

Sophie giggled as Lance sidestepped a fallen Barbie before setting her on the ground. 

“Okay,” Lance shuffled through the coloring pages. “Let’s see what colors we got.”

“Uncle Ants?”

“Yes?” Lance asked, tugging out a smiley Christmas tree for her to color.

“Are you and Keith going to get married?”

Lance froze.

Felt his heart explode and then crawl under a hole. 

Sophie stared at him with big, clueless eyes.

“What?”

“That’s what I heard Mommy tell Daddy,” Sophie said as she reached for the box of crayons. “She said that you and Keith are going to get married.”

Lance was going to murder Rachel.

“Mommy just got a little confused,” Lance said with what he hoped was a convincing laugh. “Keith and I are just friends. We like to hang out.”

Sophie frowned as she clumsily colored the trunk of the tree a vibrant purple. “But isn’t that what married people do?”

“Well, uh, that among a couple other things–”

“I verified that Cam does indeed have the coolest trucks ever.”

Lance jumped so hard his knees banged against the coffee table. He twisted to see Keith and Cam walking out of the room, and instantly stared down Keith to see if he heard anything.

But Keith looked unbothered, raising his eyebrows at the coloring sheets. “What are we doing here?”

“Child labor.”

“Christmas cards!” Sophie piped in.

“Uncle Ants,” Cam asked in a tiny voice, walking over to him and leaning against his shoulder. “Can we watch the skeleton movie?”

“The skeleton movie?” Lance asked, rubbing Cam’s back. “You're going to have to be more specific, bud, um, oh!”

Lance realized instantly, looking over at Keith. 

Keith looked cluelessly back. 

“You’re going to love this.”

***

“Keith, eyes on the five-year-olds with scissors.”

“Right, sorry,” Keith immediately looked back down at Cam’s work, but his eyes quickly drifted back to the TV.

Lance swallowed back a laugh, wishing that he could take a picture of Keith experiencing The Nightmare Before Christmas for the first time. 

He bought into the appeal of Jack Skellington quite quickly, the tiniest of eyebrow raises at his entrance. Now, he was clearly trying to follow the movie as closely as possible.

Cam and Sophie were surrounded by little pieces of white paper, kiddie scissors in their tiny hands as they made paper snowflakes. As vengeance for her gossiping, Lance was already planning on putting the paper bits in Rachel’s shoes. Cam’s snowflake was actually starting to really come together, while Sophie’s looked like it would unfold into a rather interesting shape.  

Even Keith was making one too, pausing every few moments to glance back up at the movie. A flicker of a smile crossed his face at something Jack said before his attention returned to the bundle of paper in his hands.

Lance smiled to himself, focusing back on his own paper snowflake. 

Aside from Sophie or Cam occasionally asking a question about the movie or Keith’s thoughts on a particular scene or character (the whole Keith obsession was clearly growing), they worked in silence. 

As Keith helped Cam gently spread out his snowflake, Lance attempted to untangle Sophie’s.

Lance checked his watch. “Oh, guys, it’s time to brush your teeth!”

A pair of groans chorused them before they turned and trudged to the bathroom. 

“I’ll be there to smell your breaths in a second!” Lance called. 

He finished the last couple of snips to his snowflake. 

“Ta-da!” He unfolded it proudly. “Look, Ke–”

Keith had unfolded his snowflake as well. Lance stared at it.

“Keith,” he said. “What the fuck is that, dude?”

Keith stared at him, holding an impressively cut paper spider web. “What?”

“That’s not a snowflake.”

“Wha– yes it is!”

“It’s– you’ve confused your holidays again.”

***

Once the twins had their teeth brushed and were tucked into bed, Lance trudged back into the living room. He found Keith standing in the foyer, studying the photos.

“I might sleep for a hundred years,” Lance said with a yawn as he joined him.

Keith hummed in agreement.

He was studying their family photo from last Christmas. Lance’s parents sat in the middle of the couch, with Cam and Sophie in their laps. Frankie was sitting next to them, with Rachel seated neatly on the armrest. Lance and Veronica were posed the same on their other side.

“You can’t see it in this photo,” Lance pointed to where Veronica’s hand was tucked behind Lance. “But her thumb is so deep into my shoulder it left a mark. Trying to get me to crack.”

“I can’t imagine it.”

“What? Getting attacked during a photo shoot?”

“No,” Keith stared at the photo in wonder. “Having this large of a family.”

Lance immediately wanted to make a fool out of himself. He wanted to open his big mouth and tell them that this wasn’t even his whole family, this was a branch on a massive tree that mostly resided in Cuba. That every holiday was loud and chaotic and tumbling with people. 

But then he remembered that Keith had spent so much time alone, and probably didn’t need to be reminded of the alternative.

“Well,” Lance said quietly. “Considering the way the rest of my family is obsessed with you, consider yourself a part of that mess.”

Keith smiled despite himself. “They are just incredibly nice hosts.”

“No,” Lance shook his head. “Trust me, I’ve seen them when they don’t like people. They have shit poker faces.”

Lance nudged Keith with a small smile. 

“People like you just because,” he said in a teasing whisper. “You’re allowed to be cared about.”

Lance hadn’t really realized the intimacy wrapped around his words until they left his mouth. But they left and carried themselves through the quiet room. 

Lance watched them hit Keith, watched the way he blinked and his lips parted.

Keith turned to him and there was something new there.

Something teeming with decades of uncertainty and hurt filled his eyes. There was an ache there, a want for what Lance said. 

And suddenly Keith was so close. 

He was so close that Lance could see the heave of that want in his expression, the earnest desperation. Lance swallowed shakily, lips parting as he slid his fingers against the sleeve of Keith’s jacket.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only smell spice and sugar and count Keith’s eyelashes.

He felt the lightest of touches against his waist and was sure his knees would crumble and his fingers wrapped around Keith’s wrist and he could feel a racing pulse and wondered if Keith could feel his and the door flew open.

Immediately, Lance was out of Keith’s space, spinning and coughing and finding something to look at. He didn’t know where Keith landed, didn’t know what even happened , and tried to fix his face before turning to his sister.

His sister who was looking between the two of them with a very interested look. Frankie seemed thankfully clueless, offering a red-faced Keith a handshake before disappearing down the hallway to check on the twins. 

“Hey guys,” she said, lowering her purse on the counter. “How did it go?” 

“Good,” Lance said, voice a little too high. “They were great, like normal.”

Lance could not look at Keith. 

“Awesome,” Rachel grinned at them. “I owe you two.”

She kicked off her shoes with a sigh. 

“You won’t believe what Sophie’s Santa letter says,” Rachel snickered, leaning conspiratorially towards Keith. “She wrote one at school and it finally got mailed to me. She said: Dear Santa. Can I still get presents if I don’t have a chimney?”

Something happened.

Keith went impossibly still. 

Still enough for Lance to pause, finally looking at him. 

Keith’s lips were white, cheeks rushing with color. His eyes were wide and unseeing, gaping at the empty wall. Rachel looked at Lance in confusion. 

“Keith?”

Keith blinked back, looking at Lance.

And then he was moving, reaching for his jacket. “Yeah, sorry, I just remembered, uh– I have to go.”

He slid past Rachel, beelining to the door.

“Thanks for, um,” he looked at Lance, eyes wild and a little haunted. “Thanks.”

And then he was out the door. 

Rachel slowly turned back to Lance. “What just happened?”

Lance stared at Keith, feeling something big and ugly and worried rise up his throat. 

“I have no idea.”

Thanks to diogi-oh for this amazing art! Check them out here!

Chapter Text

“And then he left ?”

Lance winced and nodded. 

Hunk blinked at him over two little heads shifting through sequins.

It was another craft day but admittedly less chaotic. They were making menorahs out of paper plates and colored paper, giving Hanukkah some love. Most of the kids had successfully glued their paper candles to their plate halves and Lance couldn’t keep looking at his best friend and not tell him about the night before. 

Lance couldn’t stop thinking about it. How close Keith got, how certain Lance was that they were about to kiss, the look in Keith’s eyes at what Rachel said. 

To make matters worse, Keith didn’t even work today. Lance hoped he would be able to casually run into him to check the vibe, but it wasn’t looking like that was going to happen. 

“Can I still get presents if I don’t have a chimney,” Hunk repeated in wonder. “Weird.”

“I know, right?” Lance handed a fresh glue stick to a very focused little girl. “I feel like I should ask.”

“Or you should give him some space,” Hunk said carefully. “He’s probably celebrated more Christmas this month than he has ever. It could be overwhelming.”

Lance knew that Hunk was probably right. He thought about what little information he was fortunate to receive about Keith’s Christmases. How it seemed like it was a blur of bad memories, not just one. 

“Beautiful job, Laney,” Hunk smiled down at one of the kids before looking back up at Lance. “So, you’re in it now, huh?”

Lance sighed. “Yeah.”

Hunk offered him a sympathetic smile. “I figured you’d get there eventually.”

Lance looked at him curiously. “What– you mean this has been a thing?”

“Oh yeah,” Hunk got to his feet, reaching for the dustpan. “There’s a betting pool.”

“There’s what ?”

***

Lance was on his hands and knees trying to sweep up the rest of the glitter when he heard the door chime. 

“Welcome to Castleship Toys !” He called. “I’ll be with you in a second.” 

“Don’t worry, I know my way around.”

Lance froze at Keith’s voice.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his heart jackhammering in his chest.

Keith was dressed in his typical all-dark ensemble and boots, studying the donation ornaments left on the Christmas trees. There weren’t many left. Lance counted that morning and estimated by now there were only about twenty.

“Hey,” Lance exhaled, trying to coolly knock the glitter into the trash can. “Didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“I was at Shiro’s,” Keith said, studying the trees hard enough that Lance was able to quickly catch that he was avoiding eye contact. 

“Oh, nice.”

Keith nodded and Lance nodded back. Keith dug his hands into his jacket, knocking the toe of his boot against the floor.

Lance had never wished for a customer more. The quiet store was making things ten times more awkward. 

Just when he was about to make up an excuse to switch with Hunk and clean the bathrooms, Keith finally looked up. 

“Sorry, I just,” Keith bit the corner of his lip, “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Lance stared at him. “Sorry?”

“For last night.”

Lance wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He felt his face go hot, then cold, rushing through about five different emotions at once as Keith apologized for nearly kissing him– 

“For leaving like that,” Keith continued.

Lance swallowed back a groan of relief and kick-started his brain back on. “Oh, right.”

Keith pressed his lips together. “Yeah. That was weird, sorry. I really liked babysitting the twins, and Rachel’s really cool, I just–”

“Have a thing about chimneys?” Lance asked hesitantly.

Keith let out a huff of a laugh. “I have a thing about kids being worried about not getting presents, I guess.”

He looked away, embarrassed.

“It was stupid,” he said. “I was tired from a long day and didn’t have my normal processing on, I think. Anyways, I just wanted to swing by and tell you that.” 

“Well,” Lance smiled softly. “Thanks.”

Keith nodded, folding his hands together and rocking on his heels.

After another second of looking at each other, Keith took a step back.

“I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Keith asked slowly. 

“Yeah,” Lance waved vaguely to the store. “I’ll be here.”

Keith nodded.

Another long look. 

Another step back.

Keith finally turned and started walking towards the exit.

Lance’s phone buzzed and he glanced at it. 

hunky: OH MY GOD LANCE HE WANTS TO HANG OUT WITH YOU

Lance choked on his realization. “Oh! Um!”

Keith froze, spinning around quickly. “Yes?”

“Um, later,” Lance managed, flustered. “Are you free?”

“Yeah,” a small, sweet smile curled across Keith’s lips. “I’m free.” 

***

“You don’t need to make a whole production of buckling your seatbelt.”

Keith looked at him with interest. “I didn’t realize car safety was a production.”

“It is when you look meaningfully at my blind spot and then do it.”

“Got it,” Keith was grinning as he settled in his seat. “My bad.”

Lance hummed in agreement, smiling as well. Keith tucked the new ornament Lance gave him, a paper snowflake hastily crafted during Lance’s break, into his bag. 

It was about eight at night and Castleship was closed and they had two of Shay’s best candy cane chais and Lance was ready to burn through a tank of gas.

Driving around and looking at Christmas decorations was one of his favorite things to do during the holidays. It was fun to imagine the family that set it up, carefully retrieving it from the attic every year and cursing through the broken bulbs and torn inflatables.

Whenever Lance and his father would put up the lights on the roof, it would be a miracle if neither of them fell off. 

“There’s a couple solid neighborhoods,” Lance said as he flicked on his blinker. “With decoration competitions, stuff like that. We will go there first and then try to find some of the classics to fill up the list.”

“The list?”

“Mhm,” Lance pulled out a piece of notebook paper from his pocket. “We can’t leave until we find all of them.”

“You’re kidding,” Keith unfolded the paper.

“Nope. McClain rules.”

That had been a tradition for at least as long as Rachel had been driving. Whenever the three of them were getting too annoying while their mom was trying to prepare for Christmas, their mom would write down a list of ten random decorations and tell them they couldn’t come home until they saw all of them. 

It was some of the best Christmas memories Lance had.

Keith turned on the mirror light to scan the list. “Okay, we need to see multicolored roof lights, three inflated reindeer, two sets of wise men, ten decorated trees, and one deflated Santa, that’s a reach.” 

Lance hummed thoughtfully. “That’s manageable.” 

Keith shot him a look. “You didn’t write this?”

“No, that would ruin it,” Lance said easily. “I had my mom text it to me. She always made lists for me and my sisters when we did it. You’ll forgive me for not inviting the she-devils.”

Keith’s lips twitched. “They are fun. I like them.”

“That’s because they like you. And don’t torture you like they do their poor brother.”

Keith snickered. “I’ve heard it builds character.”

“Right,” Lance turned into a neighborhood. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, scanning the houses around them. Lance drove slowly, looking out for the dog walkers and baby strollers. These houses all looked uniform, likely by request of a HOA. But it had a satisfying look, neat warm lights strung over ridges and window frames.

“Boring,” Keith said for the both of them, sipping his drink. “Where are the inflatables?”

Lance grinned. Now he was getting it. 

He crossed into another neighborhood with a more diverse scheme, lights streaming across trees with glittering balls hanging from the branches. They saw more of the standard snowmen and snowflakes until–

“Check it out,” Keith leaned forward, pointing. “Wise men.”

Lance fistpumped the air. “Cross it off.”

Keith looked quite pleased as he did. 

“Have you ever done this?” Lance asked as he turned down a street. “Go and look at Christmas lights?”

“Sometimes with Shiro and Adam,” Keith said. “But we never had a list or anything. This is cool.”

Lance tried to not smile too hard.

“I don’t know how your family does it,” Keith said. “How do you guys think of so many things to do?”

“You can’t give them all the credit, I’ve been very creative this year,” Lance said, shooting Keith a wink. “Stumbling upon a bunch of cute puppies in the middle of the Christmas market? That was all me.”

Keith snorted. “Don’t bring up the puppies. I already had to stop myself from going back.”

Lance perked up immediately. “Why did you stop yourself?”

Keith paused, hesitating. “I guess, I, well, I don’t really know.”

“You should go for it!”

“Lance,” Keith said dryly. “I can’t take care of a puppy. I can barely take care of myself.”

“You did a great job taking care of Sophie and Cam,” Lance said. “I’m sure there are times you take care of Shiro and Adam. And you definitely take care of –”

Lance would be forever grateful for whatever neuron firing in his brain caused his mouth to shut. Keith was watching him. 

Of me. 

“It’s a team effort,” Lance said quickly, clearing his throat and throwing him back to another topic. “We only did like a third of them when I was a kid. The rest got added in through the years. The list only started when my mom would get sick of us.”

Keith chuckled. “God, what a crazy thing to think about.”

“What? A list of Christmas decorations?”

“No,” Keith let out a laugh of disbelief. “A mom writing it in the first place.”

Lance paused, looking over at Keith. 

He was already frowning, looking out the window.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wreck the mood.”

“You didn’t,” Lance said gently.

“It’s not something I, like, get all that sad about,” Keith continued. “It’s like a fairytale to me. I don’t really know what I’m missing.”

“I get that,” Lance glanced at him. “Sorry, I’ll shut up about it.”

“No!” Keith said quickly. “Don’t. I like hearing about it.”

He smiled at Lance.

“It’s just a fairytale.”

Lance’s fingers twitched against the steering wheel, fighting the urge to do something stupid like pull over and tug Keith to him and maybe hug him and hold him and maybe kiss that sad smile off his face–

“What the hell?” Keith muttered. 

They slowed in front of a bunch of parked cars, families milling around a yard full of flickering lights.

“Oh, it’s the Reynolds. Yeah, they do this.”

Keith was squinting at the lights. “Is it synced to the music?” 

“Yeah,” Lance let out a huff of a laugh. “It’s pretty cool–”

Then Keith suddenly began laughing. Laughing so hard that Lance was a little starstruck. Giggling through a grin, Keith rolled down his window and faced Lance.

The lyrics from the song became discernable. 

“ There just ain’t no getting around this, life is hard, but look at me. I turned out alright.”

Lance’s lips parted. “Is this?”

“Hey Santa, why don’t we talk about it? Work it out.”

Keith nodded wildly. 

“It’s The fucking Killers Christmas album? ”

Lance slid his car into park as they dissolved into hysterics. Lance couldn’t breathe, the fact that the cookie-cutter Christmas house was currently blasting a choreographed light show to The Killers was so incredible Lance didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Do you,” Lance fought for air. “Do you think they knew you were coming?”

That sent them into another round of laughter that left stitches in Lance’s side.

Lance was so distracted it took him an agonizingly long moment to realize that Keith’s fingers were wrapped around his knee, steady as he curled up in his seat from laughing. His heart skipped and he watched Keith laugh, eyes crinkled shut, smile lines flashing as his teeth glinted in the dark car. 

He looked years younger as he drummed his free fingers to the beat of the song. 

Lance wondered what Keith’s laugh tasted like.

“This is insane,” Keith said with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Lance managed a laugh. “It really is.”

***

It was nearly midnight by the time they found a deflated Santa. 

Lance made Keith take a picture in front of it. 

They drove to Keith’s apartment in a content silence. 

“You know,” Lance said as he parked. “My family are caroling tomorrow. It’s a thing with my mom’s book club.”

Keith opened his mouth to protest. 

“Veronica and Frankie just stand in the back and drink out of flasks and judge us,” Lance jumped in quickly. “You can be with them.”

Keith sighed. “Lance.”

“Please?” Lance asked. “It’s not Christmas without going door to door singing corny songs.” 

Keith groaned. “Fine.”

“And I’ll pick you up so you can get crunk and– wait?” Lance gaped at him. “Really?”

“Yes,” Keith sighed, smiling slightly. “Alright?”

“Alright,” Lance repeated with a grin. 

Keith slid out of the door. “Thanks.”

Lance watched Keith trudge up to the lobby with the biggest, stupidest smile on his face. Keith was actually going to go caroling? It was unbelievable. 

Lance thought about that neat, plain apartment Keith was going up to, imagining the Christmas decorations he could stuff in there and then it struck him. 

When he was in Keith’s apartment earlier that week. 

There was no sign of the tree they got together. 

Or the ornaments Lance gave him. 

And then, Lance’s smile started to fall.  

Chapter Text

“So,” Lance said slowly. “You’re saying no to the Jell-O shots?”

Allura stared at him. “Lance, this is a staff party.”

Lance winced, crossing it off the notepad. “So, no keg?”

Allura leaned back into her chair, pressing delicate fingers over her eyes. “Why did I put you and Pidge in charge of the Christmas party?”

Lance grinned. “Because you love us.”

Allura laughed lightly. “I suppose so. Other ideas?”

“Uh, body shots.”

“ Lance .”

“Okay, fine,” Lance looked lower down the list. “Uh, White Elephant.”

Allura lowered her fingers. “White Elephant?”

“Yeah,” Lance nodded eagerly. “It’s a game where everyone brings a gift and then gets to choose one in a certain order. You can fight over gifts, trade, it’s a whole thing.”

Allura tilted her head in interest. “That sounds fun.”

“Right?” Lance grinned. “I was thinking we could use some of the damaged stock, you know, the stuff we can’t sell just because of a little miscolor.”

Allura smiled. “Now I remember why I put you in charge.”

Lance grinned, scribbling down a note to check their damage inventory. 

“So,” Allura tapped her nails against her desk. “Plus ones?”

“Sure.”

“Will you be, you know, bringing anyone?”

Lance paused, lingered, and then looked up with a wry smile. “Well, Allura, I’m flattered but–”

“Stop it, Lance,” Allura sighed. “Out with it.”

Lance extended his hands. “Out with what?”

Allura offered him an unimpressed look. “Are you going with Keith?”

Lance bit the inside of his cheek. The fact that even his boss was beginning to pick up on his pining was a little ridiculous.

He furrowed his brow. “Why would I? He’s already invited.”

Allura stared at him. Lance’s hands got a little clammy. He looked away and tried to find something through the office window to distract him. Naturally, his eyes landed on Keith. He was standing with a young couple near one of the Christmas trees, talking to them and gesturing to the donation ornaments. 

He paused, listening attentively before nodding, a small smile sliding across his lips as the wife eagerly took an ornament.

Lance found that he was smiling too.

“You know,” Allura said gently. “You won’t get in trouble.”

Lance blinked, head snapping back to her. She was watching him with a fond smile. 

“I don’t mind,” she said gently. “I trust you two to keep it professional.”

“Allura,” he sighed. 

Allura shrugged. “Fine, keep your secrets.” 

“Thank you,” Lance exhaled, getting up.

“But one more thing about the party,” Allura said, her smile turning sly. “We will be extending a couple more invites.”

“Meaning?”

“I was talking with Shay,” Allura curled a lock of hair around her finger. “What are your thoughts about a little joint party?”

***

“Stop checking your reflection.”

Lance jumped, spinning to see Veronica leaning against the bathroom door frame.

“Jesus, I’m going to get you a bell.”

“You look fine,” Veronica said, clapping him on the shoulder. “A responsible young man.”

“Bite me.”

“I’m sure the carefully coiffed hair really gets Keith going.”

“For that, I’m making you take a solo.”

Veronica laughed. “Over my dead body.”

With a salute, she stepped back. 

“I have to go and find my flask.”

“Wait!” Lance lurched out and grabbed her arm. “Veronica, don’t be weird today.”

“I’m never weird.”

“V, please,” Lance said desperately. “I can’t believe I even convinced Keith to come in the first place. He’s going to hover near you, don’t scare him off.”

His sister gave him a look. “Well, what’s in it for me? Because I have some gnarly baby photos of you ready.”

Lance gaped at her. “E tu, Brute?”

With that, there was a gentle knock on the door. 

“That must be him,” Veronica sang, stepping back with a grin. “I think I’ll start with the one of you crying with a sunburn on your–”

“Twenty dollars and I’ll wash your car!”

“You always did know your worth,” Veronica shook his hand with a smirk.

Lance slid past her, jogging over to the door. 

The moment Keith saw Lance’s nice jeans and button down, he stepped back. “I’m underdressed.”

Lance opened his mouth, probably to say something inappropriate about how good Keith’s ripped jeans and hoodie actually looked, until Veronica’s chin was digging into his shoulder.

“Nope, you look perfect for the flask crowd,” she said. “Frankie had to be talked out of pajamas.”

Keith smiled, relieved. “I would have loved to see that.”

“It was a sight,” Lance chuckled, remembering the look on Rachel’s face when her husband rolled up in flannel pajama pants. “Come on in.”

Keith walked inside, looking around. “Are the twins here?”

“No,” Lance grinned as Veronica mimed a dramatic swoon behind Keith. “It’s cute you asked, though.”

“Oh,” Keith’s cheeks reddened as he shrugged sheepishly. “Just curious.”

“Let me introduce you to the ladies,” Lance guided Keith to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind getting your cheeks pinched.”

“What?” 

Immediately, Keith was swarmed by the members of Ana McClain’s book club. The women gasped and chattered as they surrounded him. Rachel and Frankie were watching, trying not to laugh while Lance’s mom sighed good-naturedly. 

“You must be Keith!” Maria, a short, stout woman known for her legendary hugs, grasped his hand. “Oh, look at those ears!”

“Ana said they were pierced,” Catie said eagerly. “And don’t they look good on you? You must have all the ladies swooning.”

“Oh,” Keith swallowed. “Well, actually.”

Lily smacked Catie’s arm. “Catherine, we cannot take you anywhere. Remember, he’s Lance’s boyfriend!”

Lance felt his mouth fall open. Keith’s eyes widened. Veronica let out a sound between a snort and a honk. Rachel looked like it was already Christmas. 

“Ladies,” Ana said wearily. “We discussed this. He’s Lance’s friend .”

Lance didn’t even want to know how red his face was.

“Oh, of course,” Catie patted Keith’s arm. “Then I must introduce you to my granddaughter. She’s an attorney, very pretty, good job–”

“And to think,” Veronica said in Lance’s ear. “You were worried about me .”

***

Twenty minutes later Lance was regretting a lot of things.

For starters, his effort to look nice getting swiftly cut off by guarding Keith from the masses caused him to forget his gloves and his fingers were starting to go numb. Whenever he wasn’t looking at lyrics on his phone, he shoved his hands as far down his pockets they would go. 

He also managed to stick himself right in between Lily and Catie, which was especially hellish considering Catie couldn’t wrap her head around Keith’s utter gayness and Lily couldn’t believe he wasn’t dating Keith. 

They had only done two houses and his ears were already ringing.

The caroling was an event done by their neighborhood. Groups would go out and anyone willing to listen would have their porch light on. There seemed to be even more houses than normal, which would normally excite Lance.

But he was lastly regretting putting Keith in the back with the troublemakers.

He could hear Veronica, Frankie, and Keith whispering and snickering to each other. Whenever he dared to look back, he only got innocent looks and cheeks growing redder from the flasks that he had yet to catch them drinking from. 

“I just don’t get it,” Lily patted his arm. “He seems like such a nice young man.”

“He is,” Lance sighed.

“Then go for it!” She said eagerly. 

Lance fought back the girl, I’m trying, and instead focused on finding the lyrics for “The First Noel” to pass the time. 

“Frankie!” Rachel said loudly from where she was shivering between their parents. “Record me and you’re dead.”

Her husband looked around in mock surprise, as if unsure who she was talking to. Veronica’s arm was slung around Keith’s shoulder, leaning into him as Keith sucked in his lips to hide his smile.

Their eyes met and Keith’s left eye dropped into a lazy wink.

Lance’s chest burned. 

“My,” Lily sighed, as if starstruck as well. “He’s so handsome.”

Lance was pretty sure he would start screaming soon. 

After an admittedly solid rendition of “Joy to the World” and applause from a pair of grandparents and their grumpy granddaughter, they were off again. 

“Those piercings give off quite an intimidating look,” Catie whispered to him. “Do you think he’s ever gotten into a fight before?”

“Probably.”

Catie looked scandalized. Lily swooned a little more.

Two more houses and Veronica had to be talked out of beatboxing behind them. Lance heard the sound of an almost empty flask rattling and realized he chose the wrong group to be in tonight. Lance’s fingers were turning pink and his mood was souring further. Thankfully, Catie had moved to chat with Rachel and he was now in between his father and Maria.

Maria was probably the most level-headed of the three, and Lance relaxed, preparing to actually focus on the music and–

“So, when you say that Keith’s your friend,” Maria said thoughtfully. “You are insinuating something a little more adult, yes?”

Lance stared at her. “Maria, my father is next to me.”

“Oh,” she blinked. “Well, tell me later.”

Lance groaned inwardly. His father found it all much funnier than he did. 

They knocked “Silent Night” out of the park and Lance started to get a little bit of an attitude. If one more person asked him whether he knew exactly how hot Keith was he would probably shove himself into a snowbank.

“Hey,” Keith said suddenly. “Can Lance skip a house?”

The entire party paused, turning to look at Keith in surprise. But Keith looked unbothered, eyes sliding to Lance.

“He told me he’d show me a– uh,” Keith looked around before pointing at a half-melted snowman, “that.”

No one blinked twice. Veronica grabbed Frankie by the scarf and pulled him along. Lance’s mom paused to give him a knowing smile before herding her friends and husband away. Rachel made kissing faces before jogging after them. 

“What was that?” Lance hissed the moment the two of them were alone. “Now they definitely think we are hooking up.”

“Who cares?” Keith asked. “Let them.”

He took Lance’s hands and shoved them in his own pockets. Lance recoiled for a fraction of a second, now extraordinarily close to Keith, until he realized how warm his pockets were.

He let out a groan of relief, wrapping his fingers around the tiny bundles of fabric. 

“Pocket warmers,” Keith said with a grin, lazy and a little loose from alcohol and maybe a little sexy. “Open up.”

With Lance’s hands tucked in his pockets, Keith unscrewed a tiny flask and tipped it towards Lance’s lips. 

Lance eagerly drank the shot of what had to be Fireball, enjoying the warmth that rolled down his veins. 

“Ugh, thank god,” he gasped. “I’m coming back to life.”

“It hurt watching you,” Keith snickered. “Your little pink fingers and scowl as Lily told you how hot I was.”

Lance flushed. “You heard that?”

Keith’s grin only turned sexier as he tipped the last of the alcohol into his mouth. 

Lance then checked himself. Saw how his hands in Keith’s pockets brought them so close that Lance could feel Keith’s body heat. Their boots were knocking together, knees brushing, and to anyone watching from a distance, it would look like they were about to kiss.

Keith slipped the flask into his back pocket. “Give me your hands.”

Lance numbly pulled them free.

Keith cupped them in his gloved fingers, the fabric warm and soft.

“You’re not having fun,” Keith observed.

Lance looked away. “Maybe not.”

“Is it because of me?” Keith’s fingers slid gently over Lance’s cold ones.

“No,” Lance said quickly. “I’m just, I–I’m being weird. Ignore it.”

Keith hummed. “Well, how can we make it fun?”

Lance frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your mom gave you a scavenger hunt for lights,” Keith said. “You had Sophie and Cam look for reindeer while waiting for Santa. We just need to add a little something extra to tonight.” 

With Lance’s hands clasped in between his, Keith looked around, thinking hard. His breath clouded and his nose was red and hair messy and Lance felt something in him threaten to cave because he had never wanted to kiss Keith more than he did in that moment. 

Lance’s fingers twitched in Keith’s and Keith looked back at him with an excited smile. 

“I got it.”

***

“The first Noel, the angels did say, was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they slay.” 

Lance worked hard to keep his composure, eyes flicking to either side of him as he continued to sing. Rachel glanced at him curiously but Maria kept right on singing. 

He felt Keith lightly kick the back of his foot and tried not to laugh. 

Keith had challenged him to see how many times he could subtly change the lyrics to the songs without anyone noticing. 

It had been hysterical. He learned that Lily and his mother knew the lyrics better than anyone else, but Catie would blindly follow along. His father was an enabler and would only laugh, but Rachel was quickly catching on.

He would need to swap places soon, distance himself from the narc.

As they thanked the house and stepped away, Lance turned to face Keith.

Keith winked.

***

“Have yourself a dairy little Christmas. Let your heart be light.”

Maria and Catie didn’t notice. He could hear Veronica snicker behind him.

***

“Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her queen !”

Keith saluted him. 

***

“Silent night, holy night. All is balm , all is bright.”

Rachel side-eyed him. 

***

“So,” Keith asked lowly as they walked back. “Better?”

Lance smiled at him. “Perfect.”

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Chapter Text

Lance was going to give Keith the day off.

He had been hard at work trying new Christmas activities and making sure Lance had heart palpitations whenever they were together so, you know what, Keith could go and Grinch a little.

Especially considering the fact that Keith’s emo Christmas tree was still nowhere to be seen, maybe he needed to pull back a bit. 

Lance was fine with it.

But then.

“And so I fell and slid towards the stack of boxes, groin first,” Lance said. “And I totally thought that somewhere, Kevin McCallister was laughing at me.”

“Who?” Keith asked distractedly, wiping down the counter.

Lance paused. “You know, Home Alone .”

“Oh,” Keith nodded. “I never got around to watch that movie.”

“What?” Lance gasped. “You haven’t seen Home Alone ?”

“Isn’t it when you watch a kid beat up a bunch of adults in a variety of illegal, mildly sociopathic ways?”

“He is defending his house for Christmas, Keith, give the kid a break.”

Keith looked up at him, unimpressed. “Come on, it can’t be that good.”

“First, Love Actually , now this,” Lance dramatically draped himself along the counter. 

“I’ll survive.”

And then Lance got an idea. He straightened, grinning. “You don’t work tomorrow, right?”

“No?” Keith said cautiously. 

“Excellent,” Lance’s smile widened. “I know what we are doing tonight.”

***

“Please,” Keith deadpanned as Lance bustled past him, arms full. “Make yourself at home.”

“I will,” Lance said matter-of-factly, dumping the pile of pillows and blankets on Keith’s couch. “You can’t have a movie marathon like this.”

“Like what?” Keith asked, voice threatening to be offended.

“Hey,” Lance offered placating hands to Keith before continuing to spread out the blankets and pillows. “Your living room is nice. Clean, neat. Real bachelor pad. But it’s not a movie marathon if you aren’t close to falling asleep the whole time.”

“Well then, what’s the point?”

Lance groaned dramatically. “The point is that you are so comfortable and cozy that you could sleep there. But you don’t. You eat a bunch of junk food and popcorn and force yourself to stay awake as long as you can.”

He proudly lifted up a stack of five DVDs. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Keith leaned forward and scanned the titles with a groan.

“We are seriously about to spend like six hours watching this kid torture robbers?”

“It’s a new kid in the third one.”

“And Love Actually and Die Hard ?” Keith asked dubiously.

“Yes! We are talking about classics, Keith,” Lance snatched up a couple popcorn bags and marched to the kitchen. “You are going to root for Kevin, feel bad for his mom, wonder about the damage of childhood stardom, cry with Emma Thompson, laugh with Martin Freeman, and watch Bruce Willis kick ass.”

“Sounds unforgettable,” Keith said dryly.

“It is,” Lance beamed as he placed a bag in the microwave. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen these movies. I know you don’t like Christmas, but someone should have pinned you down and forced you to watch them by now.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “I’m not pinned down all that easily.”

Right. Okay.

That was rather insane for Keith to say that innocently. 

Lance cleared his throat, spun to face the microwave, and dropped a courteous look to his southern hemisphere. 

“Besides,” the couch springs creaked as Keith sat. “I’m not really a comedy or romcom kind of person.”

“Well, people can change,” Lance said wisely.

“We’ll see.”

***

Keith looked confused and a little horrified. 

“So we are just going to seriously move on from the fact that they forgot their child?”

They were tucked into the mountain of blankets and had started the first movie. Lance had ensured a wall of pillows between them because he really didn’t need any bad ideas.

Lance raised his hands in defeat. “Suspend your disbelief.”

“I can’t,” Keith grumbled as he sat back, continuing to hog the popcorn bowl. “I had foster parents in charge of, like, twelve kids. They didn’t forget anyone.”

Lance looked at him in shock. “Dropping lore like that in front of Home Alone is insane.”

“No,” Keith jabbed a finger at the TV. “Him not being immediately picked up by a family friend or a friend from school or a police officer is insane.”

Lance sighed. “This is going to be a very difficult series to watch with you.”

Keith looked a little too smug about that. 

And Lance proved himself right. Keith could barely shut up through the whole movie, constantly pointing out how many times the pranks Kevin pulled on the robbers would be considered cruel and unusual punishment or even manslaughter.

He winced and grimaced everytime the stressed out parents came on the screen and more often than that seemed to almost root for the robbers.

Lance would have probably found it annoying, if it weren’t for the fact that it was the most animated he had ever seen Keith.

“I didn’t know a comedy from the 90s would get you this bent out of shape,” Lance snickered.

Keith shot him a nasty look, shoveling popcorn into his mouth. 

“I would prefer death over being walloped with a shovel by some old guy.”

And the other two movies went by pretty similarly.

***

“Wait, pause, I’m confused. Who are they?”

Lance sighed. “Emma Thompson is friends with Liam Neeson.”

“No, what’s their character names?”

Lance shrugged. “I don’t know, no one knows.”

Keith hummed thoughtfully. “So, Emma Thompson is also married to Alan Rickman.”

“Right.”

“But she doesn’t know Keira Knightley.”

“Nope.”

Keith blinked at the screen. “How are we supposed to keep all the stories straight?”

“Oh, you’ll catch on quick,” Lance unpaused the movie. “Especially when you see Hugh Grant.”

***

Keith groaned, tilting his head back and throwing popcorn at the screen. “Fuck you, Billy Bob Thorton.”

“Right?”

“Of course the Americans in this are either sexualized, assholes, or unbelievably tragic.”

“As it should be.”

***

The later they got into Love Actually, the quieter Keith got.

For a moment, Lance thought he had fallen asleep. He dared to peek at the other side of the couch. 

Only to see Keith misty-eyed, gripping the blanket tightly as he watched Emma Thompson cry in her bedroom. “Both Sides Now” blared from his speakers and Keith’s chin gave the tiniest tremble. 

Lance felt victorious.

***

“So,” Lance said as credits rolled. “ Die Hard ?” 

Keith grinned. It was late and he had tucked himself further into the blankets, his knees pushed up to rest against the pillow wall.

“Bring it on.”

***

Lance woke up to his phone buzzing.

For a moment, he was so warm and comfortable that he didn’t want to wake up. Just wanted to sink back further and fall asleep. Blankets wrapped all around him, a comfortable weight in his lap, a stomach full of popcorn and candy. 

A few more buzzes and he peeled his eyes open. 

The living room was dark, the Die Hard menu screen glowing faintly on the TV. Lance blinked quickly, vision adjusting. 

He cracked his neck, stiff from falling asleep tilted back against the couch. He was drowned in blankets, two wrapped around his shoulders and another draped across his lap. But it wasn’t the blanket that caused the heavy warmth. 

Lance blinked a couple more times at the socked feet draped around his thighs. 

His eyes roamed up sweatpants and strong legs and a sliver of pale skin at the waistband and finally up to where Keith was fast asleep. His arms were flung over his head, resting on the armrest of the couch, causing his hoodie to ride up. His eyelashes fluttered as he slept deeply, soft breathing leaving his parted lips. 

He looked so relaxed and young, untouched by everything. 

Lance’s own hand was resting on a delicate ankle, the skin warmth underneath his touch. Lance tried to process it. At one point, somewhere in the blur between being awake and falling asleep, Keith had stretched out completely, kicking through the pillow wall, sliding his feet across Lance’s lap. 

And Lance had allowed it, leaning back and taking a comfortable hold of Keith’s ankle. 

He could imagine it, maybe remember it, like a dream.

Lance held his breath and slowly ran a thumb up and down the tendons underneath Keith’s soft skin.

And for a moment, he allowed himself to be selfish and imagine it.

Imagine a moment where this didn’t all derive from a ridiculous bet, where it was a normal day, maybe in January or February. And it was cold outside and they didn’t work the next day and they had nothing to do but be happy and be with each other. And this is where they would find themselves. 

Lance could almost see it. A sly smile as Keith reclined fully, shamelessly sliding his feet into Lance’s lap. Lance would maybe huff or puff for just a moment before adjusting to make room, maybe even kneading the knots from standing at the store all day.

Then maybe they would fall asleep, just like this. Or other times it could be different, maybe curled together, maybe pressed so tight Lance could feel the strength of Keith’s shoulder blades against his chest or even maybe he could fall asleep with Keith’s arms wrapped around him. 

Maybe he would shake Keith awake and guide him to the bedroom. Keith seemed like a deep sleeper, he would probably barely wake up, keeping his eyes shut and blindly trusting Lance to guide them. 

And then maybe they would slip into bed together and Lance would roll over and find Keith there already and just lean in for the smallest kiss goodnight.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore how his heart had started to race.

He hated himself a little for spinning away into futile fantasies. Because this wasn’t a moment of normalcy, this was new and unlikely and because of a bet about Christmas.

So Lance allowed himself to squeeze Keith’s ankle gently before releasing to reach for his phone. It was nearly three in the morning and he had several texts from his roommates. 

hunky: hey ! did you want dinner? 

hunky: I put it in the fridge :) 

hunky: so you coming home tonight? 

pigeon: LOL tell me you got condoms at LEAST 

pigeon: be a gentleman Lance

pigeon: jk tell me everything 

Lance tilted his head back with a soft sigh. It was clear that he had overstayed his welcome. A small part of him debated just going for it, leaning back and falling asleep.

But the idea of Keith waking up like this felt a little too real, a little too scary.

So Lance set to work carefully lifting up Keith’s legs. He moved slowly, holding his breath, sliding out from under Keith’s legs. 

The moment Keith’s legs were back on the couch, Keith started moving. He shifted, grumbling something incoherent as he rolled to his side. 

Lance froze, heart in his mouth as he tried to look through the hair that slid into Keith’s face, trying to discern whether he was awake.

A moment passed and Keith remained still.

Lance tiptoed to the kitchen with the popcorn bowl, dipping it in the sink and grabbing a sticky notepad and scribbling out a quick message.

Thanks for the movie night. Btw you snore. <3 Lance

He pulled out an ornament from his bag, one that he snagged from the damaged inventory, and rested it on the note.

He was almost at the door when he hesitated. Fucking faltered because he’s a weak, weak man.

Lance turned back to where Keith was now breathing heavily through his hair without a blanket covering him. 

Lance, oh-so-fucking-quietly, returned and draped one of the blankets over Keith. Tucked in his feet for good measure. With hands that were shockingly steady, he smoothed the hair out of Keith’s face. Gave himself an upfront show of exactly how perfect Keith looked. 

His hair was soft and cheeks were warm.

And then Lance got the fuck out of there.

Slipped on his shoes and twisted the lock on the door handle so it would lock behind him. He pulled the door shut and then hurried down the stairs. 

***

(The door clicked shut and Keith’s eyes flew open.) 

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Chapter Text

Lance had arguably not done anything more embarrassing in his entire life. 

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and let out the longest groan he could. 

This was actually ridiculous, and to make matters worse, he was starting to panic. 

It was all so stupid. The twins had slept over at Lance’s parents, and Rachel was driving them home when she realized she hadn’t moved their elf on the shelf. So she texted Lance to go over and move it before they got home.

Lance, ever the little Christmas assistant, happily agreed.

And he was going to get creative. He got out the flour and grabbed the elf, planning to make little footprints to show it climbing in from the window. 

He couldn’t get a good vantage point inside, so he walked outside. 

Locking himself and the elf out of the house.

He stared down at the fabric elf miserably, shivering. It was freezing outside and he couldn’t call Rachel. First, she would laugh her ass off at him. Second, he didn’t want to risk the twins finding out why he was over.

Frankie’s phone was off. Veronica was dead asleep and hadn’t responded to his twenty phone calls and he wasn’t quite ready to call his parents yet.

“Fuck,” he groaned. 

He was just in his crew neck and jeans, nowhere to shove the elf if Rachel pulled up soon. He could text her and just say to stall, but that would lead to too many questions. And, at this point, he was freezing his ass off.

Like a cruel joke, his phone rang.

Keith was calling him.

Lance groaned louder, squeezing the elf tightly. He had barely even had time to process last night, waking up with Keith draped over him, looking all relaxed and safe and trusting. 

Lance let out a pinched out breath between his teeth and answered the call.

“Hey, you left, um, your blankets and–”

“Keith, I’m in crisis.”

The tone change was immediate. “What’s going on?”

“I tried to get too creative with Rachel’s elf on the shelf and now I’m locked out and freezing my ass off and the twins are due to come home any minute to see Uncle Ants clutching the elf like a madman.”

There was silence on Keith’s end. 

Then a clear, definite giggle.

Lance scowled. “Shut up.”

Keith only laughed harder. “Sorry.”

“God, you suck.”

“No, no,” Keith snickered. “I’ll be there in like ten minutes. Tell Rachel to stall.”

“But–”

Keith hung up.

“She’s going to laugh at me,” Lance sighed to his phone. 

***

True to his word, ten minutes passed and Keith was bounding up the steps to where Lance was irritably pacing.

It was a little weird seeing his smirk and vague, assholish but also kinda sexy glint in his eyes after seeing what he looked like crying over Love Actually , but Lance tried to move on. 

“Here,” Keith tossed a black bundle towards Lance.

Lance caught it, then moaned in relief when he realized it was a hoodie. 

“You’re amazing,” he said, pulling the hoodie over his head. “Literally the best person ever.”

It smelled like Keith’s cologne and Lance’s stomach exploded in butterflies.

“Did you text Rachel?”

“Yeah, she’s taking them to Dunkin.”

Keith nodded, stepping back and thoughtfully looking around the house. After a moment, he stepped back, descending the porch stairs and walking around to the side of the house. 

“What–”

“Come on!” Keith called.

It took two laps around the house before Keith stopped, turning to Lance with a grin. “I’ll have you inside in two minutes.”

“Really? How?”

Keith pointed to a small, thin window a bit above their heads. “It’s unlocked.”

“How can you tell?”

“The window frame is old,” Keith said. “The wood is a little warped so I can see that it’s cracked open just a bit. Give me a boost.”

“W-what?”

Keith put his hands on Lance’s shoulders and pushed him onto one knee. Then, he proceeded to untie his boots.

“You know a lot about this,” Lance said dumbly. 

Keith kicked off a boot, revealing a sock covered with cartoon cats. “Yeah, I had a little breaking and entering phase.”

“ What ?”

“Emphasis on phase,” Keith said, sliding off his other boot. “And it was just empty houses in development. I don’t know, it was a weird orphan thing.”

Lance gaped at him.

Keith grasped Lance’s shoulder gently and then placed his foot on Lance’s knee. With shocking balance, he pushed himself up, pressing his other foot against the wall as he reached the window. Lance’s knee twitched under the added weight but he held firm, wrapping his hands around Keith’s ankle to help him balance. 

Two good pushes and the window shuddered open. 

Keith grinned, reaching up and wrapping his hands around the windowsill.

With agility akin to a cat, he began to pull himself inside, curving and shifting his body through the skinny window.

Lance watched with his mouth hanging open. 

Then his socks disappeared and there was a soft thud of his feet hitting the ground.

“Meet me at the door!”

Lance grabbed Keith’s boots and the elf and hustled.

Keith was leaning against the open door with a cocky grin that looked too good on him.

Lance let out a victorious shout and leapt inside, flinging his arms around Keith. Keith let out a tiny laugh, holding Lance’s elbows as they staggered inside.

“You are amazing and the coolest person I know,” Lance said brightly.

Keith chuckled as he pulled away. “Typically that’s not the response when people find out I’m adept at cat burglary.”

“I’m used to you being full of surprises,” Lance said with a wink, stepping backwards before vaulting down the hallway. “Come on! We got shit to do!”

***

They finished in the nick of time.

The second Lance heard the sound of tires squelching against wet gravel, he ran down the hallway.

He burst outside, excited shrieks leaving Cam and Sophie as their uncle barreled towards them.

“You guys won’t believe it!” He gasped dramatically. “We caught the elf trying to get out the window!”

“The elf?” Sophie gasped.

“We?” Rachel asked with interest.

“Come on in, guys,” Lance steered the twins up the stairs. 

They weren’t hard to guide, both breaking into sprints and tearing down the hall to the kitchen. 

Keith was leaning against the counter, doing a fairly impressive job of looking surprised.

The twins let out shared gasps when they saw the elf. 

It had been a quick construction, but still effective. They had taped the elf’s feet to the window and then wound a string around its hands. After taping the other end of the string to the window, it looked like the elf was using a rope to climb up the window.

Rachel snickered as she walked into the kitchen, dropping her bag on the counter and giving Keith a friendly nudge. 

“Was he trying to leave?” Cam asked shrilly. 

“Did we do something wrong?” Sophie asked, brown eyes wide and scared as she spun to face her uncle.

Oh. Well, maybe Lance hadn’t thought this all through. 

Rachel balanced her chin on her hands as she leaned on the counter next to Keith, clearly not helping him on this one. 

“Right,” Lance turned to the twins. “Well, um–”

“It sounds like he was just really jealous about the sleepover,” Keith piped in. “Maybe you need to bring him next time.”

Holy shit.

Keith’s face was impossibly earnest, an expert lie-teller if Lance had even seen one. 

Even Rachel looked impressed. 

Lance had probably never wanted to kiss Keith more.

“Oh,” Sophie looked satisfied by that response, turning to look at the elf. “Should we take him down?”

“Nah, let him stretch his quads,” Rachel straightened. “If you two are sticking around, why don’t you help us with salt dough ornaments.”

Lance grinned. 

“Salt dough ornaments?” Keith asked.

“Yeah,” Rachel walked over to the cabinet, pulling out flour and a huge box of salt. “You make the ornaments, cook them, paint them, it’s a whole thing.”

She glanced at her kids.

“It will keep them busy for like two hours,” she whispered theatrically.

“I’m in,” Lance turned to Keith. “What about you?”

Keith seemed a little stuck still on the impromptu invite. “I– if you’re sure.”

“Positive!” Rachel said happily. 

***

“I feel like we’ve been tricked,” Lance said morosely.

Cam’s elbow came out of nowhere and knocked the bowl of flour across the counter. Keith just barely managed to catch it while keeping Cam steady by clasping both of his flour covered hands with one of his.

“You think?”

The kitchen was a disaster. Flour was everywhere, all over their clothes and hands. Sophie and Cam both looked like little ghosts, busily scraping together the dough.

Keith had flour in his hair and eyelashes from Sophie slapping the flour bag shut and seeing a cloud of it in his face.

“Sounds like it’s going really great, guys!” Rachel called from where she was sitting on the couch, distractedly flicking through TV channels. “God, where is the Hallmark channel?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Lance grinned just as he moved the bowl of water out of Sophie’s reach. “Let me see a hot lumberjack teach a city girl how to love again.”

Keith rolled his eyes as he dumped the dough onto the counter, reaching his arms around Cam and showing him how to smooth it out. “You have a problem.”

“You’re the one with the problem, don’t go Grinching.”

“You’ve shown me the peak of Christmas cinema,” Keith said sarcastically. “I can’t go back now.”

“Says the person who fell asleep during Die Hard. ”

“Says the person who also fell asleep during Die Hard. ”

And suddenly they were both staring at each other and blushing. Neither of them had brought up last night until now.  

Lance tried to not think about the idea of Keith sitting up, blinking blearily and looking around his dark living room.

“So,” Rachel called oh-so-casually from the living room. “When did this Die Hard slumber party happen?”

Lance shot a glare her way. 

“I’m going to make all of Santa’s reindeer!” Sophie said happily, reaching for the reindeer cookie cutter. “Donner and Cupid and Dasher and Blixen!”

“Don’t forget Rudolph,” Cam said quietly, following Keith’s guidance to gently roll the rolling pin over his dough. 

“How could I?” 

***

“Hey,” Keith asked quietly, dipping his paintbrush into the red pain. “When did you leave last night?”

Lance froze.

Keith had been smart about it. 

Rachel had gone upstairs to do laundry. 

The four of them were sitting at the kitchen table, painting the cooled ornaments. 

Sophie and Cam were locked in on their own creations, Sophie was busy painting her fifth reindeer while Cam was carefully painting the edges of his snowflake.

Neither twin reacted. Lance rolled his paintbrush carefully between his fingers. 

“I’m not sure, I woke up and then headed out,” Lance forced a laugh. “Didn’t want to overstep my welcome.”

“Did I like,” Keith chewed on the corner of his lip, “do anything embarrassing or–”

“No!” Lance said quickly. “No. It was fun. I had fun.”

Keith looked up then, eyes searching and a little insecure. 

“Seriously,” Lance said gently. “I’d do it again.”

The smallest of smiles tugged at Keith’s lips before he looked back down at his Santa hat. 

Lance tried to focus on getting the edges of his holly branch just right. 

“You weren’t overstepping,” Keith mumbled. 

“What?” Lance asked, sure he misheard him.

“You,” Keith swallowed, “you could have stayed.”

The words hung between them, heavy in their power as Lance’s throat went dry.

Keith was still, paintbrush not moving, staring at his ornament, waiting for whatever Lance would dare to say.

And then Cam spilled his cup full of paint water.

***

Did you set them up to this?” Keith demanded.

“No!” Lance said quickly, grinning toothily.

Keith huffed out a laugh, looking down doubtfully at the baggie of ornaments. Two reindeer and one perfect snowflake. The twins insisted that he kept them. 

Lance felt a little sad not knowing where they would go. Whether Keith truly planned on hanging them anywhere or just slipping it somewhere out of sight and out of mind.

“That’s cute of them,” Keith studied them with a small smile.

“It’s the least they could do,” Lance said. “Considering you saved the day.”

Keith chuckled. “It was no big deal.”

“Come on, it was pretty spectacular.”

Keith opened his mouth to argue until something caught his eye behind Lance. Everything in his face softened, lips parting wider as a flash of longing crossed his expression.

Lance turned to see a young couple walking a puppy. The puppy was stumbling over the wet clumps of residual snow, too excited to be outside to stay balanced.

Lance turned back to Keith, to that look on his face.

And started thinking really hard. 

***

Lance practically ran into the Garrison once he ensured that Keith wasn’t there. 

He hurtled through the store, thankfully not that crowded due to being later in the day. Shiro was behind the cafe counter, turning around with a happy smile when he spotted Lance.

“Hey Lance, what can I get you?”

Lance slapped his hands on the counter. 

“Okay,” he panted. “I have a crazy idea.” 

Shiro raised his eyebrows in interest.

“And I need your help to do it.”

Chapter Text

It was five days before Christmas and Lance was feeling a little Grinchy.

His ears rang with the sound of talking and walking, customers piling into the store and taking whatever they had left on the shelves. 

Pidge, Hunk, Coran, and Allura were all running registers, Lance was manning the floor, and Keith had disappeared. 

Lance had seen him this morning, looking tired and pale, but he had barely seen him since. He wasn’t even supposed to be working, Allura had called him and asked if he could come in for a couple hours to help keep the main floor clear. 

Keith had come but Lance was wondering if maybe that was a bad idea. 

He was trying to not think about it, but he was finding that he rarely wasn’t thinking about Keith at this point. 

“Here, let me take this to the register for you,” he smiled at the woman, clicking the race car and scanning the crowd for a mop of dark hair.

He waded through the crowd, trying to keep a customer service smile on his face.

“This is for Kathleen,” he said, scribbling the name on a Post-It and putting it on the shelf behind Pidge. “Hey, do you know what’s up with Keith?”

“Do I look like I know?” Pidge asked irritably, waving to the line of customers.

“I just wanted to double check there wasn’t, like, some trauma I need to know about or something.”

Pidge paused in the chaos to stare at him. “You think I know about Keith’s Christmas trauma? You know more than I do.”

Lance blinked. “But–”

“Yeah,” Pidge turned back to the line. “Keith sharing anything is a pretty new development. Next in line, please!”

Lance stepped back, nervously checking the crowd again before sinking back into the throng.

This felt worrying. 

Keith wasn’t supposed to be freaking out right now.

He was supposed to be okay and processing things well. Otherwise plans Lance had currently in motion might age poorly.

Lance’s fingers twitched, itching to pull out his phone and text Shiro, when he spotted Keith.

He was tucked into the corner of the shop, restocking a display of Rubix Cubes.

Lance let out a sigh of relief, immediately sliding through the crowd towards him. 

“Hello, welcome, Merry Christmas, let me know if I can help you!” He fired off with hasty smiles as he weaved through patrons. 

He reached Keith.

“Hey man, how goes it?”

The withering look Keith gave him made Lance feel like all of December didn’t happen.

It chilled him to the fucking bone, the narrow cut to Keith’s eyes, his pursed lips and clenched jaw. He looked nothing like the man that had tipped the flask to Lance’s mouth or fell asleep on the couch. 

He looked upset and haunted and Lance didn’t know what the hell to do. 

“Keith,” Lance exhaled, finding there was nothing else to say. 

Keith clicked his tongue, turning away. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“God, your voice is just, like, soaked with pity,” he snapped. “I’m fine, alright? Just didn’t sleep well.”

Lance felt a lump in his throat grow.

“Okay.” His voice sounded tiny and scared and he wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

Keith paused, shoulder blades tensing as he glared at the stock, probably deciding whether to say something. Finally, he continued to stack the boxes, not looking at Lance.

And Lance took the hint.

He turned away and walked quickly back to the main floor. Allura caught his eye, glancing questioningly at Keith. Lance gave the tiniest shake of his head and Allura winced.

Lance, thankfully, was quickly swept away in the madness. He helped several grandparents find a gift for their grandchildren, wrapped at least a dozen gifts and got half as many papercuts, and lost his will to live a couple times over before Keith caught his eye again.

He still had that shaky, gaunt look to him, quickly running a broom along the edges of the displays to pick up any debris left by the rush. 

Lance watched him for a moment too long, because then dark gray eyes were on him.

Lance froze, hands crumpling up wrapping paper as he was caught.

Keith held his gaze for a moment longer before tearing his eyes away.

Lance tried to discreetly pull out his phone.

hey man, consider me now thinking this is now a bad idea. 

Shiro responded awfully quick. 

shiro: don’t get freaked out. Today’s a bad day for him. 

Lance’s stomach twisted. 

He looked up in time to watch a series of very not great things happen.

A woman threw open the doors, tearing into the store like she had a warrant.

Her searing gaze scanned the store and landed on Keith first. Like a vulture eyeing prey, she lunged.

Lance swore under his breath, scrambling to get out from around the wrapping station.

He tried to subtly move through the other shoppers. The woman said something indistinguishable to Keith, but clearly meant to get his attention.

Keith turned, eyebrows notched together in confusion.

She started talking to him quickly, obviously too fast for him to follow. She was mad and loud and overbearing and Keith, clever and biting Keith, wasn’t following. 

His eyes were glazed over, barely registering the woman. 

Lance tried to move fast.

“Excuse me?” The woman snapped her fingers in front of Keith’s face.

And Keith was back.

He was back and the blood drained from his face before returning with a vengeance. His eyes turned into storms and his teeth were bared and he looked angrier than Lance thought he had ever seen him.

Allura was moving quickly towards them. 

Keith took a step forward and Lance had two choices.

Choice #1: Let Keith eviscerate this woman and probably cause a block-wide scandal and get fired.

Choice #2: Touch someone who very likely would not respond well to it but save their job and the reputation of the store. 

Lance only had so much time to think.

“Oh!” He said loudly, trying to make his entrance as big and noticeable as possible to Keith.

Thankfully, Keith’s eyes flicked to him, recognizing his appearance before Lance wrapped a hand tightly around Keith’s wrist.

He felt Keith’s flinch.

It made him nauseous, the way Keith involuntarily spasmed under his touch. 

“I think our manager would be best suited to help you,” Lance said through the fakest smile he ever had. “Keith, help me in the back.”

With that, Allura stepped neatly in front of them while Lance dragged Keith upstairs.

By the time they were in the staff lounge, Keith ripped his arm away from Lance, whirling around with a snarl on his face.

“What was that?”

“What was that?” Lance repeated incredulously. “That was me saving your ass.”

“I don’t need you to save me,” Keith hissed.

“Oh really?” Lance was getting angry now. “Tell that to the woman you were about to swing at.”

“I wasn’t going to swing at her–”

“Keith, the last time you had that look on your face, it was when someone misgendered Pidge,” Lance said hotly. “And you then proceeded to tackle them, so–”

“I don’t need your help!” Keith said angrily. 

“Then don’t put yourself into a situation where you need it!”

“I didn’t!” Keith snarled. “I was working and just a little off–”

“Just a little off?” Lance gasped. “Keith, you’re barely functioning. If you are having a bad day, then don’t come in to work overtime. ”

“What was I supposed to do?” Keith protested. “Tell Allura ‘sorry, I’m feeling a little sad today, I can’t come in’?”

“Yes!”

They glared at each other. 

Keith’s eyes were like slits. “Don’t treat me like I’m some damsel .” 

“I’m not,” Lance said tightly. “I’m worried about you, there’s a difference. I want to help.”

“Don’t,” Keith stepped back. “Don’t do this shit.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t think that just because you’ve gotten me to eat a candy cane and make a gingerbread house that you get some secret in.” 

“Keith, I’m–”

“I’m not something for you to fix, alright?” Keith demanded. 

Lance studied him. “I know that.”

Keith was on his haunches, hair raised, eyes darting to the door. He looked almost unrecognizable. Too scared and vulnerable to even think straight. 

Lance could see when a person was about to run. 

He stepped away from the door. 

“I’ll call Romelle.”

“What?”

“I’ll get us some extra help,” Lance nodded to the door. “Go.”

Keith looked insulted. “I can’t leave.”

“For the love of God, Keith, go and take a nap!” Lance snapped.  

Keith stared at him for a moment. He slicked his tongue over his teeth before snatching up his jacket. He marched out the door, not looking back.

The door slammed behind him. 

***

The rest of the shift was, to no one’s surprise, utter shit. 

Lance slogged through it, feeling more miserable by the hour. By the time they closed the doors and began mopping, Lance’s back felt like it was going to tear in half.

He had a pounding headache and wanted to sleep for a hundred years.

But he wanted a drink even more. 

“So,” Hunk said, dumping the mop in the bucket. “Going to talk to Keith?”

“Why?” Lance asked bitterly. 

He didn’t need to look at Hunk to know the exasperated look on his face.

“Lance.”

“In his words, I don’t have a special in.”

Hunk huffed. “Yes, you do.”

Lance tiredly turned to face his friend. “Hunk–”

“Nope,” Hunk shook his head. “I’m not hearing you out on this one. You are the one person that has gotten Keith to even remotely open up during this time of the year.

Don’t you get it? You do have an in. And Keith knows it. And probably hates it.”

Lance chewed on the inside of his cheek stubbornly. 

Hunk watched him for a moment longer before returning to his cleaning, dutifully leaving Lance to his own thoughts.

Lance probably should have texted Keith or called him. 

Could have easily swung by Shiro’s bookstore or checked the normal places.

But the day was so sucky and Lance was in such a bad mood that he trudged to the bar down the street, praying that there was some kind of holiday drink that could help a little.

It was crowded, people returning home for the holidays and catching up with old friends. Lance just had a moment to pray that he wouldn’t see anyone he knew before venturing further. He had almost walked completely to the counter before seeing him.

Keith was sitting at the corner of the crowded bar, staring hard at a beer that looked almost completely full. He looked calmer, but much more tired. Sitting quietly by himself, he just looked a little empty. 

Lance felt rooted to the spot, tugging at the inside of his pockets, unsure what to do. 

Finally, he forced himself to walk over.

“Hey.”

Keith glanced at him and sighed. “Hey.”

Lance slowly leaned against the bar, waiting to be told to fuck off. Keith said nothing, beginning to tear at the beer’s label. 

“How was the rest of the shift?” Keith asked.

“Shitty.”

Keith nodded. 

They sat in silence for a moment. Lance idly watched the soccer game being played on the television.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said softly.

Lance looked over to see Keith tearing the paper into little pieces. 

“You were right, I shouldn’t have come in today,” Keith muttered. “And I was stressed and overstimulated and took it out on you.”

Lance nodded slowly. “Thanks.”

Keith shrugged.

Lance pressed his lips together. “Can I ask? What’s going on?”

Keith sighed, rubbing his brow. “Nothing, truly. I’m just having a shitty day. I had a bunch of weird dreams, got all freaked out, and had to go to Shiro’s. It was a whole thing.”

Lance frowned. “Shit, man, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Keith waved him off. “It happens. I should have just told you in the beginning but, well, sharing is new for me.”

Lance thought about what Hunk had said. 

You do have an in. And Keith knows it.

“Thank you for sharing.”

Keith rolled his eyes. 

“If I had a dime for every time you said that,” Keith said, raising the beer to his lips.

“You’d definitely have a dollar by now.”

Keith waved the bartender over. “Hi, get him whatever ridiculous holiday drink he wants.”

“You read my mind!” Lance said brightly. “Because I must say I’m intrigued by this ‘Happy Holidaze’.”

“Disgusting.”

“Bold words for someone who will inevitably try it and probably like it more than me.”

Keith chuckled at that, taking another sip of beer as his eyes casually swept the bar.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped wide and he choked.

“What?” Lance asked wildly as Keith clumsily lowered his beer, coughing.

“Holy shit,” Keith sputtered quietly. “This is a sick joke.”

“You’re killing me.”

Keith stared at the bar in amazement. “My ex is here.”

Lance immediately turned to look, if it weren’t for Keith grabbing the scruff of his jacket.

“Are you insane?” He hissed.

“Who is he?” Lance whispered urgently. 

Keith’s eyes fluttered shut as he let out a low, resigned breath. “Tall brunette near the pool table, black jacket.”

Lance let his eyes slide over the patrons, looking, looking, looking, and fuck , he was hot.

“Oh, great, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome?”

“Yup,” Keith stared forward as he took another sip of beer. “That’ll be him.”

Lance didn’t know if he had ever felt this inadequate in his life. 

Keith’s ex was stunning, brown hair cropped in a haircut far too urban for most to pull off. His dark eyes glittered as he laughed at something one of his friends said. He leaned against the wall, long fingers wrapped around an old-fashioned, looking so effortlessly cool that Lance could immediately see the two of them together. 

They would have looked good, brooding in dark corners and looking hotter than everyone else.

“I can so see it,” Lance said in awe. “Name?”

“James Griffin,” Keith shook his head. “He’s supposed to be in New York.”

“Let me guess,” Lance huffed. “A model.”

“Yeah, actually.”

Lance wanted to punch something. “I was joking.”

Keith’s lips tilted up. “What can I say? I know how to pick them.”

“What’s the story?”

“Nothing much,” Keith turned his beer in a slow circle. “We dated for a handful of months, he took some acid and broke up with me.”

“Whoa, what ?”

“Not necessarily that fast of a timeline, but, yeah,” Keith’s eyes distanced, remembering. “He got high out of his mind, saw his future or whatever, and then broke up with me like a day later. Two days before Christmas.”

“ Sorry ?” Lance couldn’t believe his ears.

“I know,” Keith had a small smile now. “Can you believe it? How ridiculous is that?”

Lance didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

While it was an admittedly funny story, Lance couldn’t imagine it happening to him. Could imagine running into the guy even less.

“Okay,” Lance accepted his drink from the bartender with a nod. “We have to make him jealous.”

“What?” Keith asked as Lance guided him to stand, sacrificing his bar stool.

Keith turned to face him, his back pressing against the bar and chest inches from Lance’s. Lance was trying not to grin, this was going to make James Griffin fold. 

“Oh yeah, I mean, it’s practically required by law at this point. Don’t mean mug me, smile.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Keith asked through his smile as Lance bracketed him against the bar with his arms.

“I’m making you look hot,” Lance said through his own grin. “Trust me.”

“Why would I trust someone who is chronically single and asks out coworkers within thirty minutes of meeting them–”

“ This again,” Lance leaned in. “Trust me on this. Give me five minutes and I’ll make him come over. I promise.”

Keith studied him for a moment, chin tight.

Finally, he sighed. “Fine.”

Lance grinned. “Perfect. Get your conversation starters ready.”

He straightened, still bracing his arms on the counter around Keith, and flagged down the bartender.

“Turn towards the bar,” Lance murmured softly.

“Why–”

“Oh my god, just do it.”

Keith muttered something under his breath before following Lance’s orders. His hair brushed against Lance’s nose. It smelled like oranges.

Keith leaned against Lance’s arm, cocking his hip to the side with obvious attitude, definitely intending to annoy Lance but actually doing exactly what Lance was looking for. 

He knew for a fact that Keith no longer looked stiff and awkward, instead comfortable and lax against Lance’s arm and shoulder. 

Lance worked hard to push the smirk off his face as the bartender refilled his drink. He ducked forward to take a sip of his drink, nodding appreciatively at the heavy pour. 

It was easy for Keith to turn, hiding his face from the rest of the bar to talk in Lance’s ear. 

“What made you an expert on making exes jealous?” Keith asked. 

Lance chuckled. “Easy. I have two sisters.”

Keith thought that over. “Fair.”

“And I watch Hallmark movies.”

“This again.”

“You can’t say shit now,” Lance was beaming. “At a bar around Christmas with some pals? Running into a Christmas ex? You are literally in a Hallmark movie right now.”

Keith looked nauseated at that.

Lance risked a casual glance towards the pool table. James was doing a terrible job of acting like he wasn’t staring at them.

“Here, watch this,” Lance picked up his drink. “After this, you’re going to laugh. Then, if you will let me touch you for a sec, James will be over here in thirty seconds.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Keith threw out through a fairly convincing laugh. “Do it.”

Lance hummed, before casually nudging his wallet off the bar. 

Keith’s eyes followed the descent, brows furrowing.

Lance shifted his weight against the arm Keith was leaning on. He lowered his other hand to Keith’s hip. Choked on his tongue for a fraction of a second when his thumb slipped over the waistband and onto hot skin. Keith tensed for a moment before relaxing, allowing Lance to guide him further into Lance’s hold.

With Keith to the side, Lance leaned down and scooped his wallet off the empty seat next to them, pocketing it before returning his arms fully around Keith.

He glanced over and–

“Bingo,” he murmured in Keith’s hair.

“You’re so lying–”

“Keith!”

Keith froze.

Lance needed to get the shit-eating grin off his face. 

But the way that Keith pulled it together, looking over Lance’s shoulder with such a perfectly bored eyebrow raise, made Lance weak in the knees.

James was standing next to them, grinning at Keith in that way people do when they are unsure of whether they are missing out.

“James?” Keith asked innocently. 

“It is you!” James said, looking even more handsome up close. “I wasn’t sure, couldn’t see–”

His eyes lifted up to Lance. 

Lance knew what to do. Knew how to play the part. How to lean on his elbow and slide closer to Keith, lift his free hand for James to shake.

“Lance.”

“James Griffin,” James had a firm handshake, but Lance’s was firmer.

Keith watched this all with interest, a delicate smile on his lips.

Lance hadn’t moved from where he was wrapped around Keith. Not when it was doing such a good job. James didn’t seem to know what to look at, eyes darting from Keith to his back pressing against Lance’s shoulder to the smirk on Lance’s face.

“How have you been?” He settled for.

“Good,” Keith said simply. “What about you?”

“Oh, you know, busy,” James said with a dismissive wave. “New York is crazy this time of year.”

“I bet.”

Simple, to the point, no opening for details. 

Keith was only getting hotter.

James nodded slightly, watching Keith, waiting for him to prolong the conversation. Keith tilted his head, holding his ex’s gaze with a calm, knowing smile.

So unreachable that Lance almost felt sorry for James.

“Well,” Lance clapped James on the shoulder. “Nice meeting you, man, but, uh–”

“Right,” James stepped back, dipping his head. “Hate to interrupt. Just wanted to say hi.”

Keith nodded. “Hi.”

Lance had to turn away to not laugh.

James slipped back in the growing crowd of people and Lance finally broke. He unwound from Keith, giggling hysterically.

Even Keith looked pleased, sliding back on his barstool with red cheeks. “How the hell did that work?”

“Are you kidding?” Lance gasped for air. “How could it not?”

Keith looked back at the crowd. “I wonder if the acid ever prepared him for that.”

Lance busted out laughing. 

***

The street was dark and quiet by the time they reached Castleship. 

Keith cleared his throat, jabbing a thumb towards the light filtering from the upper floor of the Garrison. 

“I should probably run by, check in with Shiro.”

“Oh, right.”

“Thanks,” Keith said awkwardly. “For helping with James.”

Lance grinned. “Anytime.”

Keith huffed out a laugh, taking a step back. 

“Can I ask you something?” Lance asked suddenly.

Keith frowned. “I guess?”

“Okay, I’m trying to find a gift for Veronica,” Lance said. “And I have an idea, I think it’s something she really, really wants, but won’t get for herself. I’ve asked Rachel and my parents and her friends and they agree that she would want it. But it would change her own routines a bit.”

Keith frowned, thinking it over. “For the better?”

“Hm?”

“Would it change her routines for the better?”

Lance smiled softly. “Definitely.”

Keith nodded simply, as if that solved it. “Then do it. I think you know her well enough.”

He looked up at the flutters of snow.

“Isn’t that what this whole stupid holiday is about?” He asked. “Getting people things they wouldn’t dare to give themselves?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, smile widening. “I think so, too.”

Chapter Text

Lance hobbled through the doorway, glassware tinkling in the multiple bags wrapped around his wrists.

“Hello beautiful,” he said with a grin to Romelle, who giggled and lightly smacked his elbow. “Smells great.”

“Thanks,” she grabbed some of his bags. “It’s a candle.”

“Fantastic.”

Romelle was dressed in a simple Christmas sweater and jeans, blond hair tied back with a red bow that jingled gently with golden bells.

“You came prepared,” she said as she hefted the bags into the kitchen. 

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you guys decorated,” Lance trailed off as he walked further into Allura and Romelle’s house. 

Elegant garland of green needles and pine cones wrapped around the windowsills. Their coffee tables or mantles were covered in Christmas glassware and fabric slides. Bows fashioned red ribbon in great loops along the hallway leading to the bedrooms. A grand Christmas tree sat in the corner, beaming with bright lights and glittering ornaments.

Christmas classics crooned from a record player in the corner. 

Romelle winked at him. “You were saying?"

“Someone’s finally done it,” Lance said with wonder. “I’ve been out-Christmassed.”

Romelle laughed, placing the bags on the counter. “You thought the owner of a toy store wouldn’t be crazy about Christmas?”

“Fair.”

“And we still have a couple decorations to put up.”

Lance turned to see Allura walking from the hallway, wearing a stunning black pantsuit and striking red lipstick. She grinned at him as she fastened her hoop earrings. 

“How could you possibly have any more to put up?”

“It’s a surprise,” she said slyly. “Where’s Pidge?”

“Coming with the caravan,” Lance checked his watch. “I tasked them with getting Hunk and the turkey in the car on time.”

“Smart,” Allura glided into her kitchen and began to pull out Lance’s haul of holiday paper plates and napkins. 

She let out a delighted laugh, yanking out a handful of gold paper crackers.

“You know how to melt my cold, icy heart,” she said joyously, waving the wrapped paper at him.

“I had a feeling.”

Lance’s nerves began to abate as he helped the couple prep. He felt like he had something to prove with this Christmas party, showing that he wasn’t just all talk when it came to the holidays.

He would throw the best staff party ever. 

He wasn’t sure whether it was helping or hurting his nerves that just about the entire block was coming. It would be easier for any faux pas to melt away than if it was just the Castleship employees all sitting around and staring at each other. Especially considering that Coran had already flown home to be with his family. 

But he still felt a spike of anxiety thinking about exactly how many people were coming. 

“Lance, you’re perspiring.”

He blinked, returning to the present to see Allura smirking at him. “I’m fine.”

“Are you nervous about the party?” Allura asked. “Or–”

“Both,” Lance groaned.

“It’s going to be fine,” Romelle said with a reassuring pat on his back. “Promise!”

“You’re right,” Lance said quickly. “It’s going to be perfect.”

***

“You should know that Adam and Shiro pre-gamed this,” Keith said the second Lance opened the door. 

Lance would have heard him better, if it weren’t for the fact he was rapidly having to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Keith Kogane was wearing a Christmas sweater. 

It was black, naturally, with tiny little skeletons in Santa hats decorating the wool. Keith looked fed up already.

“Don’t say a word,” Keith grumbled. “Shiro looked like he would cry if I didn’t wear it.” 

He plucked Lance’s wine glass out of his hand and drained it all in one go. 

“Got it,” it had to be Christmas already. “And where is the happy couple?”

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are getting the presents out of the car.”

Lance watched Keith closely, trying to figure out if he was beginning to catch on to Lance and Shiro’s plan. 

Keith’s eyes scanned the living room nervously. It was already filling with people, Shay and Hunk laughing in the corner, Pidge and Rax talking seriously on the couch while gesturing to their phones. Allura and Romelle were fastening something on the entrance of the hallway. 

“There’s actually people.”

“People typically look forward to these types of things,” Lance teased lightly. 

Keith grimaced. “Right.”

Lance heard the sound of laughing and turned to see Adam and Shiro waltzing into the room, leaning against each other with ruddy cheeks. Under Adam’s arm were three gifts. 

“Hey Lance!” Adam said cheerfully. 

“Or should I say–”

“You should not,” Keith said immediately, turning to his brother with a downright murderous look.

Shiro pressed his lips together, fighting a smile.

Keith spun back to face Lance, annoyed. “I’m telling you right now to not believe a word that leaves either of their mouths tonight. They are filthy liars after four glasses of wine.”

“I’ve only had three,” Shiro taunted. 

“Shut up, they were heavy pours,” Keith took the presents from Adam and turned to Lance. “Where do we put these?”

Shiro caught Lance’s eye and gave him a long, hearty wink. Lance nodded ever so slightly.

“We are putting them in a spare bedroom right now,” Lance said, stepping back. “Here, I’ll show you.”

“You’ll need to explain this White Elephant game to me,” Keith said as they walked across the living room.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll love it–”

Lance was cut off by a sharp chorus of gasps ripping through the room.

He turned curiously, expecting a spill or broken glass, only to see everyone looking at them. 

Hunk was slowly raising a hand to his mouth. Pidge looked like they weren’t sure whether they wanted to laugh or exit the premises. Allura and Romelle were very noticeably examining their wine glasses.

Shiro was the one who finally broke the silence with a bark of a laugh. “Oh, it’s a Christmas fucking miracle.”

Lance realized that everyone wasn’t looking at them. They were looking above them.

Stomach twisting into knots, Lance looked up, and wondered if Allura had a death wish.

A branch of mistletoe twinkled above them. 

Lance was stupefied into silence. 

Keith was the first to move.

He snorted, grabbing Lance’s arm. “You guys are funny.”

With that, he blatantly ignored the mistletoe and marched the two of them down the hallway.

“Keith!” Lance hissed. “That’s bad luck.”

“I used up all my bad luck during my childhood,” Keith said dryly. “I think we will be okay.”

Lance could still feel the adrenaline bumping in his veins, swallowing his heartbeat as he pointed Keith to the bed covered in gifts.

Keith carefully set them down.

“You got stupid stuff, right?” Lance asked.

Keith looked at him with a devious grin. “I got the best stupid stuff.”

“Excellent.”

They walked down the hallway and Lance walked a wide berth around the mistletoe. Keith shot him a curious look and walked straight under it, to the shudders of the rest of the party.

“Fear is the mindkiller,” Keith said to Lance as they rejoined at the counter stacked with alcohol. 

“Being superstitious isn’t cowardice,” Lance offered the wine bottle to Keith, but he waved him off. 

“I’m okay,” he jabbed a thumb towards where Shiro and Adam were excitedly talking to Allura and Romelle. “Driving those losers home.”

Lance smiled. “That’s sweet of you.”

Keith shrugged. “I figured this would be painful, but significantly more so if I got drunk and lost my filter, so.”

“A damn shame.”

Lance refilled his glass as Keith reached for a cup and filled it with water. 

They surveyed the crowd. Everyone was mingling, the room reaching a comfortable volume. Lance felt himself relax a little.

“This looks like an actual party,” Keith said. “Good job.”

Lance glanced at him. He looked much better than yesterday, well-rested and calm. Lance had a flash of last night, the feeling of Keith pressed against him, the vindication of watching Keith coolly rebuke his ex. The residue of the thrill arched through him, causing that rising ache to grow a little more.

As per usual, Lance’s eyes were dragged to Keith’s lips before he forced himself to look away.

“How was the drive?”

Keith opened his mouth, hesitated, then looked at Lance with a confused smile. 

“You are seriously asking me about the drive over here?”

Lance closed his eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

Keith sized him up. “You’re nervous.”

“Shut up.”

“And awkward.”

“Okay–”

“This is new,” Keith seemed to appraise him with a new perspective. “So, what’s it like being around us mere mortals?”

“While I’m flattered you’ve noted my godlike powers, I’m not nervous,” Lance shot back. “I just want this party to go well.”

Keith stared at him. “It’s a Christmas party.”

“And?”

“They are always shit.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Keith. Very helpful.”

“What?” Keith asked, corners of his lips peeking up as he raised his hands in defense.

“I’m going to twist your attempts to reassure me into something more uplifting,” Lance sniffed. “How about, they are what you make it?”

“Sure, we can go with that.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Okay,” Keith said readily. “But you’re no longer nervous.”

Lance opened his mouth to continue arguing, before faltering.

Keith was right. Keith’s Christmas allergy had triggered Lance’s muscle memory to defend both himself and his favorite holiday. And suddenly, he felt a whole lot more capable of running this party.

Keith hummed knowingly before drifting towards where Pidge was sitting on the couch.

Lance sighed, trying to push back the urge to drag Keith under the mistletoe himself.

Romelle was trying to subtly hang another strand of it over the door.

Lance took a massive gulp of wine. 

***

Lance had to hand it to Keith. For a Christmas-hater, he was a pretty good guest.

He was quiet, orbiting from conversation to conversation with easy nods and attentive eyes, but would often step away. Find something to do to recharge, often taking dishes to the kitchen or forcing Allura or Romelle to give him a chore.

Lance found it hopelessly endearing.

His own eyes alternated from where Keith was shuffling in the outskirts of the party to where Allura and Romelle were hanging up what had to be the tenth string of mistletoe.

It was like navigating a minefield.

Sure, they all played into it. Adam had given Shiro a sweet kiss when they were caught under it, Hunk had fully twirled and dipped Shay. Lance gave Pidge and Hunk both kisses on the cheek and made it clear it would probably strike him dead if he was lucky enough to kiss the owners of the lovely home.

But he made sure Keith and him were on opposite sides of the mistletoe at all times.

Mostly because he didn’t want to have to see Keith brush off the tradition again. 

It had a surprising sting to it. Lance tried to blame it on Keith’s hatred of Christmas, but he could also feel some quiet hope inside him dying a little. 

“Alright, everyone!” Allura clapped her hands excitedly. “Time for White Elephant!”

There were excited murmurs as people approached the coffee table where Lance had neatly stacked all of the gifts. They were all wrapped in varying types of wrapping paper. Lance could tell Allura’s from a mile away, a box with neatly folded brown paper and a curled cream ribbon. While Pidge’s was a mess of garish paper with a box hanging off the edge.

“Okay,” Lance leaned forward from where he was sitting on the couch, trying to not look like he was too closely watching Keith lurking near the fireplace. “Here are the rules.”

Romelle handed him a jar of folded pieces of paper. 

“Everyone will grab a piece of paper,” Lance said. “They have numbers on them. Whatever number you get means the order you get to select a present. When it gets to be your turn, you can either choose a new present from the table or steal one. Once one is stolen from someone, then they can choose to steal or get a new gift. Gifts can only be stolen twice. The person who goes first can steal from the last. Make sense?”

Those around the table nodded. Keith settled on the couch next to Lance. His brow was furrowed, clearly still trying to understand the rules.

“So, I–”

“How about this,” Lance said quickly. “I’ll go first and show how it’s done?”

He got several nods from around the table. Shiro grinned at him. Lance could feel his pulse in his teeth. 

They drew the slips of paper. 

Lance was first, Shiro was second, Pidge third, Adam fourth, Hunk fifth, Allura sixth, Romelle seventh, Shay eighth, and Rax ninth.

Keith raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been forgotten.”

“Oh, sorry!” Romelle laughed easily. “I must have forgotten to write the last one. We will just make you number ten.”

Keith nodded, convinced. Lance wasn’t breathing. He didn’t dare look at Shiro across the coffee table. He was so glad he had given the job that involved lying to Romelle, because she didn’t even bat an eye. 

“Shall I start?” Lance asked.

He reached forward and swiped up the small envelope on the table, resting it neatly on his thigh.

Everyone watched him expectantly. 

“What?” He asked, hoping he looked innocent.

“Are you not going to open it?” Pidge asked curiously.

“I thought you were supposed to open it,” Keith said quietly, still trying to wrap his head around the rules. 

“Sure,” Lance flipped the envelope over to show his own neat penmanship. “But this one says to not open until the game is over.”

Keith stared at it. “That’s your handwriting.”

“Yup.”

“You took your own present?” Pidge asked.

“Sure did.”

“Is that not against the rules?” Keith asked. 

“Nope,” Shiro snickered into his wine glass.

Pidge and Hunk were looking at Lance suspiciously. He was sure they were already quickly figuring out he was up to something. Now it just hedged on them leaving it alone. 

As Shiro thankfully leaned forward to pluck a small package off the table, Lance did the quick math in his head.

It could be stolen twice. Adam, Shiro, Romelle, and Allura all knew his plan, so they could steal it from anyone who stole it. But then that meant it would take a little configuring to get it to Keith, but he could definitely suggest a random rule chance just to spice it up.

With a loud laugh, Shiro unwrapped “onion goggles”. The crowd exclaimed excitedly and Hunk grinned proudly.

Pidge looked curiously at the envelope when it reached their turn. Lance mentally begged them to mind their own business. They seemed to receive the message, because Pidge picked up another gift. 

It was a roll of toilet paper with a couple unsavory politicians on it. The room roared with laughter. Lance heard Keith's quiet huff of laughter next to him. 

Adam stole the toilet paper from Pidge. Pidge stole it back, earning wild shouts of laughter. 

“Is that allowed?” Keith asked.

“There are few things not allowed,” Lance said with a grin. 

He turned to face Keith, to see his eyes on the envelope.

Keith’s gaze slowly raised to Lance’s. “So.”

“So,” they were awfully close.

“What’s in it?”

Lance shrugged. “Sorry. It’s a secret.”

And thank the stars and heavens and a couple things in between because Lance saw what he was looking for. A sudden spark of curiosity and challenge in Keith’s eyes. He lifted his chin, eyes dropping to the envelope again as he let out a low, interested hum. 

Lance turned back to the game. Pidge had taken another present to find it was a wine glass shaped like a pickle. Hunk took it. Pidge let out a cry of outrage as Shiro nearly fell out of his chair laughing.

Muttering wild curses under their breath, Pidge snatched another gift.

Keith immediately stiffened and Lance knew it had to be his gift. Keith was attentively watching Pidge unwrap the box, before they let out a thrilled shout of glee.

“No way!” They immediately glared at Allura. “Steal this and I’ll quit.”

The party dissolved into laughter, all leaning forward to get a closer look.

Pidge flipped it around. It was a rubber band gun, a tiny device stocked with various colors of rubber bands to shoot. 

Keith practically glowed with pride. Lance thought it was adorable.

“Good job,” Lance whispered. 

Keith grinned.

Allura took pity on Pidge and got a candle that smells like popcorn. Romelle got a book of dad jokes. 

“You’re really not going to tell me what’s in it?” Keith murmured, the soft rasp of his voice sending chills down Lance’s spine.

“Nope,” Lance said, popping the P for emphasis.

Keith hummed again, eyes narrowing as he scanned Lance’s face for any tells. 

Shay got a wine opener the shape of a fish. Rax stole the dad joke books. 

Romelle smirked at Lance. 

Relief slammed into Lance so violently that he felt a little light-headed. Shiro and Adam were working hard to keep their faces even. 

Holy shit, this was actually going to work without any further meddling.

Romelle snatched up the second to last present, unwrapping it to find a calendar of sexy firefighters. Shay, Shiro, and Adam all squealed.

Keith was still watching Lance, head tilted slightly.

“So, Keith,” Shiro was working hard to not laugh. “Going to take the sexy firefighters?” 

Keith’s eyes dropped to the envelope. He held out his hand.

The room erupted as Lance gave a convincing show of regretfully handing it over. 

Keith grinned in victory, sliding his fingers over the edge of the envelope. He went to open it immediately.

“Wait!” Allura called out. “The game isn’t over.”

Keith’s smile faltered slightly. He had forgotten that Lance was first and could technically steal it back. 

Lance held his gaze and slowly reached out and picked up the last present. 

The look on Keith’s face was priceless. Interested murmurs grew as Keith looked between Lance and the envelope.

Lance made a big show of unwrapping the set of candy cane boxers, holding them out and examining them closely. He hoped it wasn’t obvious that his hands were shaking from relief.

Keith was processing things slowly, fingering the envelope as he studied Lance. 

It worked. It worked .

“Well,” Lance said, dropping the boxers to his lap and turning to Keith. “The game’s over.”

Keith stared at him. Gaped at the massive smile crowding Lance’s face and Lance knew that was the moment Keith realized he had been had.

Keith looked down at the envelope. “You–”

“Oh my god, open it!” Shiro hollered. “I’m dying over here!”

Keith gave Lance one last look before ripping open the envelope. He pulled out a card with an obnoxiously colorful Christmas tree.

His nose involuntarily wrinkled.

Lance could taste his heartbeat.

He opened it and something slipped out and fell into his lap. He groped for it blindly, eyes flickering along the words and mouth moving wordlessly as he read it.

He sat straight, shoulders rolling back and read it again.

And again.

Slowly, his eyes lifted up to where his brother was grinning toothily with misty eyes.

“No way.” Keith breathed.

“What does it say?” Hunk asked.

Keith swallowed. “Uh.”

He pressed his lips together. Lance saw that his hands were trembling and immediately leaned over and dramatically cleared his throat.

“You are the new lucky owner of a Mr. Kosmo Politan Kogane,” Lance read off before glancing up and winking at Pidge. “I thought of the middle name, by the way. Santa’s elves are currently giving him his shots but he is very open for visits up until his adoption date on December 29th.”

Wordlessly, Keith lifted up what had fallen into his lap. He flipped it so that everyone in the living room could see the picture of the very cute puppy that liked to look at the stars. 

The party exploded with noise. 

Shiro and Romelle threw themselves at each other with victorious shrieks, not believing the trick actually worked. Allura was patting Adam on the back as he grinned and dabbed at his eyes. Rax and Shay were grinning as Hunk openly cried with heaving laughs. Pidge was the only one looking at Lance. They held his gaze before giving him a small, proud nod.

Lance felt his eyes burn. 

Keith still looked frozen, stunned as he stared at the picture of the puppy. 

“This is,” he spoke like he was in a trance, “this is the puppy from Elf Night.”

“It is?” Lance leaned over for a better look. “It must be a Christmas miracle.”

Slowly, Keith looked up at Lance. “You did this.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Lance cleared his throat. “But this is a good Christmas miracle, right?”

Keith looked at him with wonder. “It’s the best one I’ve ever had.”

***

Lance excused himself to the kitchen to do the dishes, trying to get his adrenaline to die down. He was still a little shocked they pulled it off. 

He had been bracing for the worst, someone else stealing it and opening it, Keith hating it, Keith not even coming.

But it happened and it worked and Keith was happy . 

He let out a soft breath, cleaning a wine glass with shaky hands.

“Here.”

Hunk’s arm brushed against his as he took the glass, reaching for a microfiber towel to dry it. 

There was a scrape of a chair and Lance turned to see Pidge clambering up to begin putting the glassware back in the cupboard.

For a moment, they worked in comfortable silence. Lance felt so warm and content between his best friends, feeling the rush in his veins begin to slow down.

“So,” Hunk said. “That was awesome.”

“Yeah,” Lance exhaled.

He passed Hunk a stack of plates. Pidge stacked them on the drying rack. There was a comfortable rumble of talking from the living room. A champagne bottle popped and everyone cheered.

“That’s an incredible gift for someone,” Pidge said.

Lance could see what they were doing. What they were getting at.

Lance rolled back his shoulders. “Yeah. It is.”

His friends nodded. The unsaid words rang in the quiet kitchen, the three of them reaching a mutual understanding regarding Lance and his feelings regarding Keith. Lance felt an overpowering heave of gratitude, thankful he didn’t even need to say it. 

“I love you guys.”

Pidge’s eyes glinted. “Does that mean we are getting puppies too?”

Lance elbowed them and they giggled.

“We love you too,” Hunk said for them.

Lance grinned at him.

There came the sound of heavy boots and the three of them turned. Keith was leaning against the counter, a shy smile growing on his face. He looked exhausted, but happy. Lance knew that he was probably drained beyond belief, everyone else rushing to congratulate him and find out more about the puppy. 

“Oh,” Hunk said immediately, “Romelle! I want the herb garden tour now!”

“Me too,” Pidge said quickly, jumping off the chair and quickly following Hunk. 

And then it was just Lance and Keith in the kitchen.

Keith looked down at his boots, taking a careful step forward. “Shiro told me everything.”

“Did he?” Lance needed to do something with his hands. 

He turned and reached for another glass, quickly running it under the hot water.

There was an air of hesitance before shoes scraped and Keith was joining him.

“He did,” Keith pulled up his sleeves. “He said how you came to him and asked if I had been wanting a dog. How he told you yes but he doubted I would ever actually go for it.”

Keith dipped his hands into the sink, pulling the utensils out of the cup they were soaking in. 

“Shiro told me that he was sick yesterday,” Keith continued. “And that’s why he wasn’t at the bookstore. But instead he was driving around town, filling out paperwork and getting supplies.”

“Did you notice the puppy proofing done to your apartment?”

Keith cracked a grin. “No, Adam kept me distracted all day by dragging me on, like, a hundred errands.”

Lance laughed. “Thank god he knew.”

“Did everyone know?”

“No,” Lance groaned. “I was sweating bullets during the game. But I figured you wouldn’t like knowing everyone was keeping a secret all night.”

Keith paused washing the utensils, turning to look at Lance with a strange expression on his face. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

Lance found something in Keith’s eyes that was a little too knowing and intense and looked away. 

“Why did you do this?” Keith asked.

“What do you mean?” Lance asked quickly. “Any would have seen you with little Kosmo Politan and done it.”

Lance scrubbed a stubborn spot on a dish. He could feel Keith’s eyes on him. 

Finally, Keith returned to the utensils, letting it go. “I can’t believe you gave my dog the name of a cocktail.”

“I can’t help it that I’m naturally hilarious.” 

***

The party was wrapping up. Rax had left, needing to open up Balmera’s early, and Shay and Hunk soon followed. 

Everyone had resorted to cleaning duty, thanking Allura and Romelle profusely for hosting. 

And Lance was exhausted. He let his guard down.

Wasn’t even thinking as Keith and him dragged trash bags to the door until Romelle let out an excited giggle. 

“Oh, look at that!”

Lance only needed to hear the whistles and calls to know what they were standing under.

Keith didn’t even look up at the mistletoe. He stared instead at Lance. 

And Lance was tired. A little lovesick. Had a weaker resolve. 

He shrugged. “I mean–” 

Keith rolled his eyes and nodded. “If it’ll get everyone to shut up .”

He grabbed the front of Lance’s jacket and pulled Lance to him and they were kissing.

Lance felt his entire soul jolt. 

Keith’s lips were warm and a little chapped but determined. 

He had only one second, maybe two, of brain-emptying bliss, of scratching an itch that he had been clawing at for what felt like an eternity.

Keith was warm and smelled like pine needles and tasted a little like chocolate and Lance thought he could probably do this forever.

And then, the hand released his jacket and slowly pushed him away.

Lance stared helplessly at Keith’s kissed-pink lips, feeling his own buzz as he sucked in a breath.

Regretfully, he turned to see a gobsmacked crowd.

Pidge’s mouth was hanging open. Adam and Shiro looked a little shell-shocked. Allura was hiding a laugh behind her hand and Romelle was bouncing on her heels. 

“Happy?” Keith asked.

Romelle slowed, looking between the two of them. Now that they had kissed, it seemed like everyone wasn’t sure what to do. Lance felt something inside of him die a little. 

“Thrilled,” Romelle said, waving them off. “Now you may go.”

Lance slowly turned back to the door. His head was spinning. 

Keith cleared his throat and marched ahead, lugging the trash bag. Lance could only dumbly follow. 

He did it. 

He had actually just kissed Keith Kogane.

And it seemed like Keith hardly cared.

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Chapter Text

Seventeen Christmases Ago 

The first thing Keith learned about Christmas was how fast Christmas trees burn. 

“Just like that,” Keith’s father snapped in front of Keith’s face with a chuckle. “And it’ll go up.” 

His father had come home that night smelling like burnt paint and Frasier fir. It was the fifth Christmas tree fire that week. The trees had been dry that year, his father said, and it was causing them to go up like Roman candles. 

“Do your old man a favor,” he ruffled Keith’s hair. “Don’t get a real tree. The fake ones are nice enough.”

Whenever his father came home from fighting fires, he always smelled like candy canes. Keith would later realize this was a body spray in order to try and get rid of the smell of smoke, better their house smelled like mint than something burning. 

Keith was five years old and knew that Christmas meant the smell of burnt pine needles and peppermints. And his father never wanted him to have a Christmas tree.

That was all he felt necessary to know about Christmas. Sure, there were presents and songs and traditions, but none of that felt as important. Most of the stereotypical Christmas things also had a kid with a mom and dad, and that wasn’t how life went anyways. 

His mom was never really in the picture and his dad didn’t like Christmas trees so Keith was pretty used to his holidays being a little different. 

He didn’t mind it, not until much later that year. 

When his dad didn’t pick him up from school and instead there was a police officer and a stern-looking woman with a bunch of papers, that was strangely his first thought. 

The first thing he knew was that holidays were about to be even more different. And a whole lot worse. 

Fifteen Christmases Ago 

Keith tried to give the foster home credit. 

Thanksgiving had come and gone with dry turkey and watery gravy. It was a forgotten holiday, intentionally set aside so his foster parents could focus on providing a decent Christmas for the eight kids in the house. 

Keith was seven years old and didn’t think they had to worry because the boys that were in the room across the hall were definitely getting coal. 

His foster mother reassured him that Santa would know that his living situation had changed and bring his presents to the right address. She also said that sweet little boys got great gifts and he didn’t need to worry. 

Keith was relieved. There was a lot of innocence still clouded in his head, despite the hurt that came from being shuffled through his remaining family the past two years. There had been a handful of great-relatives: great-aunts and great-uncles that tried but slowly realized they didn’t have the ability to watch a growing boy. Keith didn’t blame them, he never expected any of their homes to be permanent, with that constant smell of mothballs and pet food. 

Nevertheless, he was a little surprised to find out that Santa had been able to keep track of his location through the chaotic mess of months. 

His foster mother suggested he write a wishlist and she would take it to the post office the next morning so Santa would see his address, just in case.

Keith was quick to follow her suggestion, darting upstairs to his room and pulling out his nicest notebook paper. 

Keith was seven years old and more concerned with Santa finding him than other things, so he never thought to lock the door of his bedroom. After all, it was a fire hazard. 

(Keith had become a little obsessed with fire safety over the past twenty months, but considering the circumstances, it was understandable.) 

So the mean boys that deserved a mountain of coal stomped into his room, spotting Keith tucked at the old wooden desk, writing in his neatest penmanship. 

One of the boys let out a rude laugh. “Are you seriously writing to Santa?”

Keith looked up with surprise. “Yes?”

Another boy snatched up the list, reading it with his tiny eyes and keeping his nose upturned.

“Dear Santa,” he read out, voice sharp and taunting, “I hope that you are still able to give gifts when there is no chimney. If you can, I would please like a Hot Wheels fire truck and the new race track. My foster mother also wants me to read more, so I’d like a book as well.”

“You idiot,” the other boy snarled. “Santa isn’t real .”

Keith felt his stomach hollow. “That’s not true.”

“You are such a baby,” the other sneered. “Did you seriously think that a fat man in a red suit came to everyone’s house in one night?”

“But, but–”

They cut Keith off, grabbing him by the arms and hauling him out of his room and down to the basement. While one of the boys kept watch, the other picked the lock to the storage closet.

“This is stupid,” Keith crossed his arms to hide their trembling. “You two are just mad you are going to get coal.”

That earned ugly barks of laughter. With a hoot, the boy wrenched open the closet. 

Keith stared at the mess of toys. He recognized dolls and toys from the Dollar Store, books and clothes from Walmart, a clear attempt of his foster parents trying to do their best. 

“But–”

Keith was still hoping, still clinging onto that last morsel of childish naivety, until he saw the bright red of a firetruck hidden under a pile of dresses.

Then he felt something break open inside him. 

Thirteen Christmases Ago 

Keith was nine years old and knew he was being a bit of an asshole. 

Asshole was moderately new to his vocabulary and he only knew it from overhearing the older boys. He knew it was an insult, meant for people with a bad attitude, so he figured it fit. 

“Come on, Keith,” Mrs. Elise said gently, nudging him further in the line. 

The other kids around him were hopping around excitedly, chattering loudly about inconsequential requests they were going to ask.

They were sandwiched in a tight line. The cold air was cut by the body warmth and Keith felt sweaty and uncomfortable. One of his foster sisters was screeching excitedly in his ear and he could feel himself start to get angry. And the angrier he got, the more frustrated he became.

Because he liked Mrs. Elise. She was nice and pretty and her blond curls always smelled like flowers. She never yelled and was super nice to the children. And he didn’t want to ruin this one. He wanted to stay. 

So he needed to not freak out. 

The red carpet was unsteady under his feet, kicked up and dirty from snow and grass and God, he hated this, hated it, hated it, hated it.

With more rage than a nine year old should be able to summon, he glared at the grand armchair, when an old man in a fat suit sat dressed as Santa. Kids were bouncing everywhere, excitedly telling the man what they wanted for Christmas. The man was listening eagerly, nodding with a lot of ho, ho, ho’s. 

Phony. 

“I am not doing it,” Keith snapped.

Mrs. Elise frowned. “Why not?”

Keith mustered as much venom in his gaze as possible as he looked up at her. “Why do you think?”

Realization dawned on her face. 

She knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Did you find out our little secret?”

“Like two years ago,” Keith scowled. “I’m not some baby that believes in–”

“Now hold on,” Elise cut him off gently. “I’m sorry that you were introduced to the secret without learning the secret about The Secret.”

Keith frowned. “There’s another secret?”

“Of course!” She said with a smile. “You see, you were given a super important job once you were told The Secret. Because now you join the rest of us that keep it. And the keepers are in charge of keeping the Santa magic going. It’s a big responsibility.”

Keith chewed his lip. “I didn’t want to be told.”

Ridiculously, he felt his eyes start to burn. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He knew that there was no way he was about to start crying about knowing Santa wasn’t real. This was stupid, he was being such a wimp, if the older boys found out–

Elise smiled sadly at him. “I know, Keith. No one really wants to. Because it’s so much nicer thinking that it’s all magic. But guess where the magic actually comes from?”

She gently tapped his chest.

“It comes from us,” she said gently. “Isn’t that so much cooler?” 

“I guess.”

Elise touched his cheek gently. “I think you will be one of the best secret keepers.”

Keith studied her face, wondering if she was right. 

She ruffled his hair and rose to her feet, gathering the other kids with a warm smile. Keith looked up at her and thought that this was what a mom should look like.

Someone that smiled a lot and wore perfume and gave good hugs. Not a blurred memory of stiff arms holding him, so distorted that he wasn’t sure if he made it up.

He realized he loved Mrs. Elise. 

And vowed to be the best secret keeper, even after he was moved out of her house, five days before Christmas.

Eleven Christmases Ago

This was stupid. 

Keith’s fingers dug into the corners of his book, the spine creaking as he forced himself to stay put.

“A letter to Santa?” An older foster boy, Warren, crooned, leaning over Caroline with a dangerous smile. 

Caroline was six years old and probably the cutest kid Keith had ever seen. She still had eyes clear from damage and was relatively well-adjusted. Keith had become strangely focused on keeping her that way.

But he also knew when to pick his fights.

So he tried to keep to the smart decision to not challenge the biggest kid in the home.

“Hey!”

Warren ripped up Caroline’s paper with a grin. 

“Dear Santa,” he said, voice pitched high with mockery. “I hope you will still give me presents if I don’t have a chimney.”

Keith’s fingers went cold. 

“If so, I would like a Beach Barbie,” Warren continued, titters from the other kids rising at his rolled eyes. “And a car for her to drive in. I can use the sink as her pool but I would like to have a ladder for her to use.”

“Give it back!” Caroline was on her feet, face flushed with embarrassment. 

Keith closed his book. 

Warren leaned down close to her. “Let me tell you a big girl secret, Caroline. Santa’s not–”

I think you will be one of the best secret keepers. 

Keith’s book smacked Warren clean across the face. 

The sound was sucked out of the room. All of the kids watched with wide eyes as Warren slowly rose to his full height, cheek swelling red.

Slowly, he faced where Keith sat calmly. 

“Warren,” he said, carefully keeping his voice even. “Don’t be a dick.”

“You’re gonna eat shit for that, Kogane.”

“Okay,” Keith agreed. “Just don’t, don’t do that.”

Caroline, eyes brimming with unshed tears, looked curiously between Warren and Keith. “What?”

Warren sized Keith up. He apparently decided he was no concern.

“Santa’s not–”

Warren was a big kid. He was fifteen and stocky and planning to try out for the football team at their high school next year. But Keith was eleven and skinny and fast . 

It was almost too easy for Keith to get out of his seat, get across the room, and shove Warren as hard as he could. The kid stumbled, arms pinwheeling, and Keith took that opportunity to snatch Caroline up. 

Plowing his elbow into Warren’s stomach, Keith spun and notched Caroline on his hip, marching out of the room. 

Caroline was crying, maybe because she was scared, maybe because she figured it out. 

“Ignore him,” Keith muttered. “He’s just mad because he’s getting coal.”

Caroline’s sobs were interrupted by a surprised giggle. Keith felt his heart rate slow ever so slightly. 

There was commotion behind him. It would be a matter of minutes before the foster parents found out and Keith would have a pair of very angry adults to deal with. Maybe he would be even told to pack his bags. He wouldn’t be surprised. If he got moved this close to Christmas, he was pretty much guaranteed to not have any presents. It would probably seem like a fitting punishment to them. 

This is stupid , a venomous part of him whispered. Warren can just tell her tomorrow and you probably lost Christmas.

A more reasonable part of Keith didn’t care. He had already lost Christmas years ago, while Caroline could maybe have one more day of it. 

***

Warren told her on their way to Elf Night.

Keith wanted to jump out of the cart the instant he did. Keith had already been stuck with babysitting duty after starting a fight with Warren. He was going to be in charge of Caroline and the other six under six. He was already stressed about watching them all. Now watching Caroline’s face fall in confusion and quickly screw up with tears, he wondered how badly getting road rash actually hurt.

They crammed into the crowd, tight and too warm, and Keith pressed his lips so tight together they hurt. 

The older fosters immediately disappeared, leaving Keith with the little ones. 

The other kids were arguing over where to go first. Caroline cried against Keith’s hip at every sight of Santa. His head already pounded from the music and constantly counting off the kids. 

He tried to think of what Mrs. Elise would say.

He bent down and scooped up the sobbing Caroline and hitched her on his hip. She cried into his neck, the tears and snot scraping against his freezing skin, and Keith felt his own throat tighten.

He herded the other kids, confused why Caroline was so upset, and pointed them to the nearest stall with a game. 

He dumped a handful of quarters in their pink fingers and sat with Caroline at one of the benches. He rubbed her back and pushed back the sour feeling of stress and annoyance and tried to calm down.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry you found out about the secret, but there’s a secret to The Secret.”

Nine Christmases Ago 

Keith trusted Takashi Shirogane about as far as he could throw him.

And considering Shiro was tall and strong with about seventy pounds on Keith, he trusted him very little. 

He spent the first two months after the Shiroganes adopted him in his room. His room was nice, larger than the ones he would share with two to three other boys.

It was kept relatively simple, a blank canvas for Keith to make his own. The closet was stocked with new clothing and fresh bedding was folded on the dresser. The Shiroganes had assured him that they would take him shopping for paint colors the second he asked. 

He didn’t.

He read and paced and eyed the stash of new clothes and bedding as if it would bite him.

He continued to wear his old clothes and use his old bedding, retrieving it all from the canvas grocery bags he carried them in. 

Touching the clothes prepared for him would make it all permanent. Would connect him to this place in a way that would make him too vulnerable.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t get attached because then he would be back in the group home the second he dared to let his guard down. He was sure that the Shiroganes were just looking for something to do with Shiro in college. Something to keep their minds off of their son living so far away, where there were snowy Christmases that Keith found bewildering. Rachel Shirogane was loud and laughed loudly, while Tony was quiet but kind. They were sweet people, caring, so Keith couldn’t let them in. 

Keith was thirteen and expected they would just keep him and clothe him for a couple years, then dump him once his sob story got him a decent scholarship at the local university. 

So he didn’t get close. Didn’t open the closet and smell the clean detergent and crisp new clothes. 

They gave him his space, for the most part.

Shiro was annoyingly persistent whenever he came home. He had even made Keith come up to stay with him in his apartment during Thanksgiving break. It had been fairly uneventful, the two of them spending most of the time in a moderately comfortable silence. But Keith had enjoyed it, had liked the way snow felt on his face or his boots.

Not that he would tell anyone that.

But Shiro was persistent. Was determined to crack Keith. 

And he finally did, though likely not in the way he intended. 

***

He should have known the moment he smelled pine needles. 

Keith staggered back, bile arching up his throat. His mouth burned as his back hit the wall. His stomach heaved and chest rioted as he gaped at the Christmas tree. 

The real Christmas tree. 

“Do your old man a favor.” 

It was huge, massive branches with vibrant green needles. The shining star at the top just about scraped the ceiling.The branches were strong, laden with ornaments and string lights. 

The Shiroganes were all grinning, watching for his reaction. 

But Keith could taste smoke and fire. 

“Don’t get a real tree. The fake ones are nice enough.”

Their smiles started to drop. 

Shiro leaned forward, reaching out. “Keith?”

Keith lurched away, head spinning. He accidentally kicked the couch, pain springing up his foot as he stumbled out of the living room.

He broke out into the cold air, sucking in lungfuls of icy wind to try to force back the vomit. His hip knocked against the porch railing and he stayed there, digging his nails into the wood. 

He was still trembling when the porch door slid open. The heavy footballs told him it was Shiro.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said through chattering teeth. “I know it was supposed to be a good surprise.”

“And it was a bad one instead,” Shiro leaned next to him, exhaling and watching his breath cloud. “Want to tell me why?”

Keith picked at his nails, sliding his jaw side to side. It felt too stupid to say, childish and ungrateful and assholish.

“I’ll get over it.”

“Keith,” Shiro sighed, turning to face him. “This is your house too. We are your family. We don’t want to make your Christmas suck.”

Keith dropped his head, raking his hands through his hair and swallowing back the urge to shove Shiro back and scream that he didn’t care, there was no point because at this point, Keith hated Christmas. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the smell, the songs, the taste, the artificial feeling pasted over a world that was so sad and depressed it relied on obnoxious cheer and capitalism to keep spinning. 

But the words were terrible and awful and cold and Keith didn’t want to seem that cruel to Shiro. That broken. 

“Keith,” Shiro repeated gently. “You have to tell us your triggers. Otherwise, we won’t know what to do.”

Keith caught the recoil in his teeth. “I’m fine.”

Shiro shot him an unimpressed look.

Keith suddenly realized that he wouldn’t be getting out of this without giving Shiro something. He tried to think of something simple, something relatively clean and good. 

“Christmas trees are a fire hazard,” he said finally. “My dad didn’t like them.”

Shiro nodded instantly. “Then we will get rid of it.”

And that was that. 

***

So Shiro coaxed Keith open. 

Made him a human that was able to begin to communicate with other humans. And Keith began to trust him. Maybe got a little too attached, much too dependent.

Because then Shiro was talking about a boyfriend up in his college town. Maybe he could come down for the end of their winter break and Mary and Tony agreed. Keith had never been madder.

Because having a boyfriend meant that Shiro was planting roots in that town with snowy Christmases. 

And that wouldn’t do. 

***

“You suck, you know that?” Sihro asked goodnaturedly.

Keith scoffed, crossing his arms and sulking from where he was sitting in the bathtub, stubbornly watching Shiro fish out Adam’s keys from the toilet.

Adam had been annoyingly cool about it. They had all been searching for Adam’s keys for like thirty minutes, temperaments dropping while Adam began to check his watch more consistently, ensuring that he didn’t miss his flight. 

Keith watched all of this with a poker face that had been honed for a decade. 

It was Mary who had found them, letting out a shout of surprise when she checked the bathroom to see the keys in the toilet. Ever the kind soul, she had thought they had fallen out of Adam's pocket while he was in there.

Keith was willing to go along with that story. It was Shiro who had turned and given Keith a hard look that clearly said are you for real right now ? 

No one got mad at Keith, which had pissed him off even more. He wanted them to yell at him, to cause a commotion, but all they did was sigh and apologize to Adam, who laughed it off. 

His punishment had been to fish them out, but Shiro didn’t even let him. 

No. He was a sick bastard and made Keith watch him get them out of the toilet. Keith was stuck in the bathtub, sitting with his rising guilt as Shiro ruined a pair of kitchen tongs. Adam was being served another hot cider in the living room. 

Keith hated everything. 

Shiro turned, dangling the tongs holding keys in Keith’s face. Keith snapped his teeth and looked away.

“Good, you got them,” Keith said, punching out each word. “Now I can go to my room.”

He grabbed the edges of the tub, making to lift himself out.

“Nope,” Shiro let out a soft groan as he dropped off his knees and sat against the wall. “We are going to sit here and talk about it.”

“Or?”

Shiro raised his eyebrows and twisted the tongs to dangle the keys back over the toilet. “Or I’ll drop these and make you actually get them this time.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“The fob is already ruined,” Shiro said. “Don’t try me.”

Keith crossed his arms more firmly across his chest, glaring at his boots. “I’ll pay for the fob.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I said I will –”

“It’s going to be like two hundred dollars,” Shiro said evenly. “I am going to pay for it and you are going to pay me back.”

Keith slid his teeth together, furious.

“Don’t even start with that. Do your breathing.”

Keith wanted to put a hole through the wall. He squeezed his hands into fists but did what he was told, shutting his eyes and beginning the deep breathing technique his therapist had taught him. 

It was a way to calm him down and give him a second to think before he spoke.

Shiro waited patiently for Keith to open his eyes again.

“Now,” he waved the keys. “Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know,” Keith grumbled. “I just wanted to scare him a little.”

Shiro looked unimpressed. “You are seriously playing the damaged little brother card?”

“It worked last time.”

“That’s because my last boyfriend was shallow and a bit of an asshole,” Shiro leaned forward. “Adam’s not. If anything, this probably made him like you more.”

Keith scowled.

“Why did you want to scare him?”

Now Keith was getting a little flighty, because his eyes were starting to burn. “Because.”

“Because why?” Shiro asked gently, kinder after he heard the wobble in Keith’s voice.

Keith swallowed a couple times, not speaking until he was sure his voice wouldn’t crack. 

“You are going to move up there, aren’t you?”

Shiro opened his mouth, and hesitated. “Yes.”

Keith cleared his throat, looking away as his gaze blurred. 

“Hey,” Shiro leaned forward, gently resting a hand on Keith’s knee. “That’s not Adam’s fault. I would want to live there even if I didn’t know him.”

“What’s the big deal?” Keith asked thickly. “Why do you like it so much?”

Shiro smiled at him. “Why don’t you find out?” 

Five Christmases Ago

Keith didn’t really need anything added to his Christmas hate arsenal.

But watching Shiro struggle to hang an ornament with one arm was going on the list.

He looked away, something sour rising in his gut.

It had been about three months since the car accident. Shiro’s arm had been pinned and was too messed up to be saved. He was recovering well, annoyingly positive in that annoying Shiro way, but they came up to celebrate Christmas, rather than making Shiro travel. 

Keith shoved his feet under the couch cushion, pressing his teeth tightly together as Shiro stumbled and then tried to hide it.

Shiro’s parents were at the hotel, making what they could of a Christmas dinner in the tiny kitchenette to bring over to Shiro and Adam’s apartment. Keith gladly took Shiro’s offer to crash on their couch rather than the hotel. 

Keith hated hotels, he hated feeling stuck in places full of people. It reminded him of group homes and caused all types of ugly instincts to roll back. But now he was regretting it, because he was sitting there, watching his brother struggle to decorate his tree, and needed to get some air before he punched something.

He was so sick of being angry. But it was impossible not to.

How could he not hate the world that seemed to ruin everything ? That burned his father to a crisp, made his mother disappear, ruined the childhoods of so many children, and pinned his brother in a car. 

The world reeked of hate and bad luck and Keith was feeling pretty fed up. 

His grades had dropped, which wasn’t great considering he was a junior and needed to start looking at colleges. His teachers were understanding enough, considering the circumstances, and Keith cynically knew that the college essay of an orphaned, gay Asian-American would do numbers. 

But it was hard to focus on his future in a world he despised.

He knew he wanted to go to college, wanted to pursue something in understanding how people think, but the first steps felt so impossible.

He watched Shiro take a moment, breathe, straighten his posture, and step to the side to accommodate his difficulty leaning.

Keith’s nails dug into his palms.

“Hey,” Adam had at one point walked up behind him. “Keith, I’ve been meaning to show you this bird nest on the fire escape.”

Keith opened his mouth to say something rude enough to get Shiro to yell at him, but Adam’s firm look caused his voice to die out.

He grumbled under his breath but got to his feet and followed Adam to the window.

“No leaning, babe!” Adam called before stepping out onto the fire escape. 

Shiro muttered something in assent before Keith followed.

It was freezing out on the metal stairs. Adam immediately sat on one of the steps, letting out a long breath that fogged out in the winter air. 

Keith shoved his hands in his pockets. “Where’s the nest?”

“Oh, there’s not one.”

Keith blinked. 

“Shiro can’t come out here anymore,” Adam said with a shrug. “So I figured it would be the easiest white lie to get you out here.”

“Well, I’m out here,” Keith said rudely. 

“Nice,” Adam said calmly. “Now, take a breath.”

“Excuse me?”

“Probably more than one,” Adam continued. “Considering how close you are to starting a fight.”

Keith sucked in a tight breath, spinning away from the challenging look on Adam’s face.

On most days, Keith could see why Shiro liked Adam so much. He didn’t scare easily. He was deceptively tough considering his penchant for glasses and sweater vests.

While Shiro and his parents tended to be maybe a little too accommodating with Keith’s issues, Adam wasn’t afraid to meet him head on and tell him when he was being an asshole.

The first time he did it, it was because Keith was arguing with nurses in the hospital. They hadn’t been listening to Adam, not understanding that yes, Shiro’s parents were here, but Adam was Shiro’s partner and would be his primary caretaker. Adam had his phone out, quickly typing what they were telling Shiro’s parents, despite Tony and Mary’s attempts to direct them towards Adam. 

Keith had been upset and the room smelled like antiseptic and cotton and Shiro looked a hundred miles away with stony eyes and a missing arm and he snapped. 

He had told the nurses to pull their heads out of their asses and talk to the person actually taking notes. 

The room had dropped into a stunned silence.

“Keith,” Adam had finally said. “Thank you, but please put your head in your ass and let them do their jobs.” 

They had glared at each other, the Shiroganes looked horrified, but it was the first emotion that had crossed Shiro’s face all day.

And Keith had done what he was told. 

So, from that day on, Adam didn’t deal with Keith’s bullshit.

And he certainly wasn’t going to now, considering the defiant look he had on his face.

“You can’t do this,” Adam said. “You can’t turn into this.”

“Turn into what?”

“Into a miserable bastard that hates the world only a little more than he hates himself.”

Keith snarled. “Really not pulling your punches today.”

“I can’t,” Adam said sternly. “Because I’m exhausted and stressed and upset and trying to give Shiro a good Christmas but I can’t when his little brother looks like he wants to punch something every time Shiro stumbles.”

“How do you not want to punch something?” Keith demanded. “It’s fucking terrible to watch. Shiro is the best person I know and now he has to relearn how to put ornaments on a tree!”

“I know,” Adam said patiently. “But you need to get over it.”

Keith glared at the metal platform. 

“Can I be shitty for a second?” Adam asked suddenly.

That took Keith off guard enough for him to look up. Adam was staring out over the railing, looking at the tiny, snow-dusted town below them. 

“Sure.”

“Where are you going to college?”

Keith recoiled from surprise. “What?”

“Are you considering here?” Adam asked, holding Keith’s gaze. “Because I’m going to be shitty and request that you consider it. Because I’m dying out here. I’m dying out here because Shiro is so determined to not be a damn burden that it’s driving both of us insane. And I need help.”

“Wait, but how would I–”

“Not with him,” Adam shook his head. “Never with him. I am happy taking care of Shiro, I’m fine with helping him to the shower on unsteady days and getting him through the tough nights. But sometimes I need a bird nest to look at. I need someone else to drive me insane.”

Adam watched Keith. 

Keith thought it over, surveying the snowy town below them. 

And slowly, hesitantly, maybe a bit of that future peeked through the haze. 

***

Keith was walking around the block, looking for something to do while Adam and Shiro were preparing dinner. The streets were almost empty, everyone tucking themselves in for the holiday. 

He studied the building that Adam had dreamed of buying. He wanted to own a bookstore and cafe, and his degree in business and Shiro’s in hospitality was the perfect combination. 

Keith wondered how far the dream would be pushed back now. 

He wandered a little further before coming up to one of the few lit buildings.

It was a simple white building, more long than it was tall, with gleaming brass letters above the large windows.

Altea Community Center.

Curiously, Keith poked his way inside.

It was warm. There were a couple of workers milling around a set of indoor playgrounds, smiling and laughing with the little kids running around. Picnic tables bordered the walls, filled with older kids either scrolling on their phones, reading or doing some sort of craft. 

“Hi! A short woman with a bright face and a name tag that said Patty came over. “Can I help you?”

“No, sorry, I was just walking,” Keith took a step back.

“Need a family break?” Patty asked with a laugh.

Keith paused. “I-I guess.”

“Well,” she shrugged. “We are open for a few more hours. We have a ton of holiday coloring sheets.”

Keith stared at her. “I’m seventeen.”

“So?” She smiled sweetly. “You’re never too old to color.”

Keith realized she reminded him of Mrs. Elise.

“I don’t think I’ve ever colored before.”

She smiled. “Well, now would be a great time to start.” 

Three Christmases Ago

It was a cosmic certainty that Keith would one day witness a Christmas tree fire.

His fate was tied to it, considering how often his father’s words rang in his ears. 

“Do your old man a favor. Don’t get a real tree. The fake ones are nice enough.”

It felt like supremely bad karma when his roommate, Rolo, probably pretty flammable already from the amount of cannabis he seemed to always have in his pockets, placed what looked like a painfully dry tree in the living room. To make it extra unsafe, he threw on cheap lights that looked one bad bulb away from sparking a fire. 

Keith couldn’t quite believe it. He already hated the dorms with a white-hot passion, waking up most nights soaked with sweat and expecting to see Warren or another of the older kids looming over him. 

And now he had to deal with a Christmas tree? 

He gave the thing a massive berth. Didn’t put anything near it. 

Stayed in his room and grew more bitter and paranoid and slowly started to hate the smell of pine needles.

He knew such intense hatred and fear of a tree wasn’t healthy. But it felt like a ticking time bomb. Rolo and his friends teased him, taunted him about being scared of a Christmas tree.

But they got real quiet when it did catch on fire.

A bulb broke and ignited one of the dry branches. Keith heard the panic from his room.

He threw his legs off his bed, hit the ground running, and bolted down the hall. The fire was slowly consuming the left side of the tree. Rolo and a couple other of his friends were staring at the fire, unsure of what to do. 

He barged into the kitchen, elbowing everyone out of the way, and yanked down the fire extinguisher from its notch near the oven.

He pulled the pin, aimed the nozzle, and sprayed the entire left side of the tree, from the trunk to the star.

Once the crackle of flames was a low hiss and his heart stopped racing, Keith lowered the fire extinguisher and surveyed the damage.

The fire hadn’t gotten big enough to cause any true damage, but the foam spray from the extinguisher was everything. Specifically, it soaked all of the presents under the smoking tree. The gift wrap, untouched by the fire, was sodden and ruined.

Keith scoffed, dropping the extinguisher with an air of someone who knew they were about to be blamed for something that was hardly their fault.

As everyone stared at him, the smoke alarm finally went off. 

***

He was pounding on Shiro and Adam’s door before he even registered where he was. 

The door opened to a half-asleep Shiro.

“Keith, what–”

“I hate Christmas trees,” Keith hissed through his teeth, shouldering past his brother. “Where’s your alcohol?”

“Um, you are nineteen, so–”

“Where’s Adam?” Keith demanded.

“So that sounds like Adam supplies you with alcohol.”

“You bet he does,” Keith leaned towards the hallway. “ Adam !”

Shiro looked like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or yell. Adam stumbled out of their room, glasses lopsided and a robe halfway slung over his shoulders.

“What’s up?”

Keith was already making quick work of examining their liquor cabinet.

“Are you giving alcohol to my little brother?” Shiro asked his partner.

“Of course I am,” Adam said with a yawn, trudging into the kitchen. “How else did you expect him to get through sharing a dorm with someone without killing someone?”

Shiro frowned.

“Relax,” Adam patted his shoulder. “He likes vodka crans and is such a lightweight he’s giggly after one. It’s adorable.”

“Fuck you, I heard that.”

“What happened?” Shiro sighed heavily as Adam swatted Keith away and pulled out the ingredients.

Keith glared at the counter. “I need to move out.”

“I got that. What happened?”

“I ruined all the presents Rolo and his friends were taking home.”

That caused Adam and Shiro to freeze, gaping at him with wide eyes. 

“With a fire extinguisher,” Keith added. “So it’s technically not my fault.”

“There was a fire? Or were you just in the mood to become a Christmas Dr. Seuss character?”

“The stupid dry-ass tree caught fire,” Keith took the drink Adam made for him. “It’s almost like they are ridiculous fire hazards that should be kept out of houses.”

He took a large gulp and rubbed his forehead. 

“I need a job,” he said tightly. “I need to save up to get my own place or I’m going to jail for homicide within a year.”

Shiro and Adam looked at each other.

“Well,” Shiro said slowly, a grin rising on his face. “There’s a new store that opened up right next to the Garrison. ”

“It’ll be a perfect fit,” Adam said with a grin. 

“Pidge works there,” Shiro added on. “You like Pidge.”

Keith did. He met them a couple years back. Their older brother, Matt, was buddies with Shiro. While Matt was like a golden retriever, Pidge resembled a black cat. No-nonsense, aloof, but easy to like.

Keith frowned. “Pidge works at a toy store.”

Adam and Shiro smiled at him. 

“You cannot be serious.” 

One Christmas Ago 

It was December 23rd and Keith checked his teeth in his phone’s mirror for the third time. 

He scowled at himself, not entirely thrilled with the splattering of acne over his forehead from finals week, but it would have to do. 

He shoved his phone in his back pocket and tapped his fingers on his coffee mug and tried to look like his skin wasn’t crawling from the Christmas music blaring in the coffee shop.

He had been dating James for five months, long enough to have each other’s bodies memorized, but to know very little of what was inside.

That was fine to Keith, he had spent close to fifteen years neatly pinning everything together and snapping it shut. The therapists that the Shiroganes paid for had done a decent job making him a capable adult. He knew when to advocate for himself and his feelings and respect when his body and mind told him that he was actually In A Moment and needed to Take A Break. 

Just, things got a little slippery around Christmas. A little loose.

But James was nice and handsome and funny and Keith really didn’t want to unleash a tidal wave of December trauma on him.

In an effort to appear normal, he even bought a Christmas present for him. One of his favorite books, wrapped neatly in the backseat of his car. He had it all planned. If James had a gift for him, then he would go out and get it from the car. If he didn’t, then no harm done and the present would stay hidden. 

Things already felt off when Keith had run into James and his brother Christmas shopping the other day. He had waved quickly, a mildly uncharacteristic and embarrassing thing for Keith to do, only for James to stare at him blankly for a second too long. 

Then he seemed to snap to it, hugged Keith, introduced him, and then they moved on to their own shopping. 

It felt weird .

But it was Christmas and Keith got a little weird himself around this time so he tried to ignore it. 

Thankfully, before he could spiral any further, James entered the coffee shop. He looked gorgeous in his navy coat and thick scarf, peeling off his gloves as he approached the table with a smile.

That smile was what had lured Keith in. 

He had come into Castleship with that same blinding smile, looking for a birthday gift for his niece. Keith had helped him the best he could and James asked for his number and the rest was history.

“Hi,” James said in that seductively low murmur. “How are you?”

He smiled a little more and Keith got all mushy inside and the conversation moved on from there.

They talked about normal things, how finals went, what classes they were taking next semester, what they were doing for Christmas.

“Seriously?” James asked, stirring sugar into his coffee. “You only get, like, three presents?”

Keith shrugged. “Yeah. I’m sure my foster parents would give me more if I asked but I–I don’t know. I’m weird with Christmas gifts. So they give me one and Shiro gives me one and then Pidge sneaks one into my car or something.”

James looked incredibly shocked by this. “You work at a toy store and you are weird with Christmas gifts?”

Keith shifted, growing more uncomfortable by the second. This was why he should have just kept his mouth shut. He needed to stop unloading on people, it just got awkward.

“I was looking for something for Pidge the other day,” Keith said, hastily changing subjects. “That’s when I saw you at the mall.”

“Oh,” James rested his chin on his palm, a bemused smile growing. “That. Yeah. That’s a funny story.”

Keith leaned forward with interest.

“I, well,” James chuckled. “I was kinda on acid.”

Keith paused. Blinked. Blinked again. “Oh!”

“Yeah,” James said, spinning his mug handle in careful circles. “That’s why I was a little out of it. But it was an incredible experience. There was this moment where I–”

What followed was at least a fifteen minute monologue of James explaining the truths he discovered while on acid. He talked about how he felt like he knew what to do with his life, how he could practically see his future. Keith nodded mindlessly, never one to be all that intrigued by drugs. Maybe it was from watching Shiro’s recovery, but he never wanted to be that dazed and unaware. 

At some point they moved to Keith’s car, sitting in the dark parking lot as rain dribbled down the windshield. Keith’s knees were tucked up to his chest, trying to keep his eyes on James and not involuntarily drifting to the poorly-wrapped present in the backseat.

“So listen,” James said, right when Keith was about to suggest making out. “This has been like, weird, right?”

Keith tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, us hanging out,” James said lamely, words long and stiff as he offered a fake smile. “Like, I think it happened a little fast, right?”

Keith was having a hard time following. “You mean–”

“I just, I never got to get to know you as just a guy, you know?” James licked his lips nervously. “A friend.”

Oh. Okay. Keith was being broken up with.

He sucked his lips into his mouth, fighting back a ridiculous urge to laugh. It was all just nonsense. Here he was, two days before Christmas, getting dumped all while praying for James to not look in the backseat and see the gift. How humiliating, bringing a gift only to get dumped. 

James prattled on about staying friends and getting to know each other better while Keith just silently chanted for his eyes to remain on Keith. 

But this was getting long and tedious and stopped being as funny. Keith started to pine for a drink on Shiro’s couch.

“So,” he said, to speed things up. “You saw your future and I wasn’t in it, huh?”

That expedited the process a little quickly.

***

And then there’s this idiot who started to work at Castleship. 

This absolute fucking tool.

Keith couldn’t believe his ears when all of thirty minutes after Keith’s tutelage of how to use the register, Mr. Big Blue Eyes asks him out.

“ Balmera’s looks good,” World’s Biggest Dick said with a slow smile spreading over his annoyingly cute face. “Want to check it out after I manage to not break this thing?”

Keith was thunderstruck. He couldn’t believe this kid’s audacity. And he was also still admittedly a little sore from James’ breaking up with him a little less than two months ago. What had started as a funny story settled into humiliation. 

Of course the one time Keith tried to get his shit together around Christmas, he would get dumped.

He had decided that Castleship had a bad omen regarding men, and this new employee was no different.

Keith stared hard at him. “I would rather eat glass.”

New Hire stared at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

He nodded thoughtfully, taking it with shocking grace. “Cool, can we never bring this up again?”
“Sounds great.”

***

Okay.

So Absolute Fucking Tool’s name was Lance. 

He was a biology major and one year below Keith and, quite unfortunately, kinda a cool guy. Not that Keith would tell him that, he was more than happy to continue their semi-awkward comradery during work hours.

But he worked hard, was great with customers, and could talk down an angry mom in seconds. Just one flash of that smile and the customers would be the one apologizing.

Pidge and Hunk were close with him, which pissed Keith off a little because he thought that he had dibs on Pidge. But then he realized that was probably one of those possessive urges that several therapists pointed out, and tried to ignore it. 

Even Allura and Coran liked him. 

Keith didn’t necessarily see the hype until it was May and there had to be a hundred kid birthday parties that weekend and the store was swamped.

A woman, flushed from both the heat and rage, was all up in Keith’s face, waving around a receipt and yelling at him. 

“This is ridiculous!” She sneered in an ugly, raggedy voice. “I’ll be calling your supervisors! This toy broke almost instantly, what do you mean you can’t get me a refund?”

Keith inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

He could feel himself getting angry, flighty, about to do that thing when he lost his everloving shit and typically needed Shiro to coax him out of a tree or something.

“Hi!” 

Suddenly, Lance was in front of the woman, smiling brightly at her and gently taking the receipt from her hand. “How can I help you?”

Keith’s thundering pulse began to slow. 

“Oh, yeah,” Lance winced. “This sucks, I know, but electronic devices need a warranty if you want to return them. See here? You didn’t click the option, I’m afraid.”

The woman sputtered. 

“How about this?” Lance asked. “Let’s take a look at this toy. Our assistant manager, Coran, is a whizz with a screwdriver. Maybe we can fix it up!”

Lance walked the woman away without a second thought.

Allura stepped up next to Keith.

“He might be perfect,” she said thoughtfully.

***

Imagine Keith’s rage when he started to regret turning Lance down. 

December 1st 

Lance could chill the fuck out a little.

Walking around the store like a lost puppy ever since Keith dropped the Christmas bomb on him. 

He had tried to be casual about it, make it seem more like a disinterest rather than genuine hatred. But Lance did his Lance Thing where he inserted himself into it and demanded all these answers that would only upset him more.

And Keith knew that Lance was a fierce lover of Christmas. He wasn’t entirely sure why he told him, considering it would be a recipe for disaster. 

He had thought that he would never tell him. He had a lot of feelings regarding Lance, most of them disgustingly gushy and involving his eyes and smile and arms. He had done his best to package them away, shove them back and throw away the key because there was no universe where perhaps the happiest person in the world even looked twice at him. And he certainly wouldn’t help matters showing exactly how much of an asshole he was. 

But he told him. For some fucking reason. 

Because now Lance wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone. 

Was following around asking all these questions that only made Keith feel more prickly and annoyed.

So maybe Keith was a bit of an asshole when Lance got stuck with the Christmas shift. It served him right, considering how annoying he was being. 

So maybe Keith felt like he had something to prove when Lance offered the bet. He probably still would have shrugged it off if it wasn’t for Lance sweetening the deal, offering to take the New Years shift of Keith’s hands. 

Maybe he wanted to make Lance eat his words a little. He wanted to get rid of that smug smile on his handsome face, so sure that he would make Keith like Christmas.

There was no getting Keith to like Christmas. You couldn’t like something that you wouldn’t let yourself truly experience.

Keith scoffed at the rules. No hiding, no Grinching, no falling in love.

Lance didn’t need to worry. Keith knew his place. 

December 2nd 

This was already a nightmare. 

Keith had expected for Lance to get a rude awakening to the length of Keith’s hatred. He just didn’t expect it to be this soon. 

He was freezing and embarrassed and could smell burnt pine needles and his father’s words were ringing in his ears. It was the first time Lance and him were ever alone out of work and it was all because of a stupid bet.

“I’m playing the part,” he argued. “I’m being nice and walking around with freezing toes and listening to ear splitting Christmas music but I’m not getting a tree.”

“Keith–”

“ Lance .” 

Lance took a step back and Keith hated the surprised hurt on Lance’s face. The way his big blue eyes were studying Keith, not mad, just trying to figure him out. 

And Keith didn’t want to be figured out. 

“They make needles go everywhere and are sticky and they are a terrible fire hazard,” Keith said tightly.  

“Okay,” Lance held up his hands in defeat. “Okay. No tree. You got it.”

Keith nodded simply and turned away. 

He began to walk quickly to the exit. Maybe they could forget about all of this. It was a stupid idea. He thought that he could play along enough to prove Lance wrong, but it was clear that wouldn’t happen.

Not when he was so tightly wound, so uptight, so stubborn, so damaged.

“Keith!”

Keith was shocked to see Lance hurrying to catch up with him, apparently not willing to let him disappear into the crowd. 

Keith opened his mouth, ready to tell Lance to forget about this entirely. 

“Listen, that was a flub on my part. My bad. Give me one more hour.”

Keith stared at him, not able to quite believe it. Lance considered it his fault?

He was so shocked he had to cave.

“One hour.”

***

Keith stared at the box on his living room floor. 

The fake black Christmas tree.

He had never had his own before, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.

After another moment of looking at it, he turned on his heel and marched into his bedroom. 

December 3rd 

Keith stared at the trio as they threw snowballs at each other. He dipped his chin further into his coat, taking a hesitant step back. His hand wrapped tighter around the ornament in his pocket.

He remembered the excited look on Lance’s face, the way that he practically glowed while handing it to Keith.

An instinct in Keith begged for him to refuse it, but Lance looked so excited and hopeful. Keith had taken it. 

He had tried to duck out of the ensuing snowball fight challenge earlier, but Lance had stopped him.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about being stopped. While he couldn’t deny the flutter in his stomach, this was the kind of thing he wasn’t good at. He wasn’t good in social situations, didn’t have the tiniest of ideas of how to participate in a snowball fight.

Pidge knocked snow in Lance’s mouth. Lance staggered back dramatically, grinning and laughing with his eyes shining.

Something clenched in Keith’s chest and he turned away. Wondered why he thought he could actually fit in with the others.

Soft slush so cold it burned smacked into his neck.

He paused, mouth dropping open as the snow slid down into his coat. He could hear that the others went quiet behind him. 

“Sorry,” Lance called finally. “I was aiming for Hunk.”

There were millions of things Keith felt clueless about. But getting back at Lance? It was his first language.

Keith dropped to the ground, hastily piling snow together. 

He spun around and threw the ball. Lance was turned away, looking at Hunk when it hit him. He staggered back, eyes wide. He gaped at Keith.

Then smiled like the fucking sun. 

Lance let out a wild, challenging laugh, and dove to the snow. 

Keith immediately followed, cramming snow together in his hands and throwing it as quickly as he could. Lance, it turned out, was terrible at throwing snowballs.

It only made him more endearing, him hopelessly chucking snow Keith’s way, hollering for his friends to help him as Keith nailed him over and over.

Keith realized he was grinning, panting excitedly as he ran out of breath. He didn’t know the last time he had done something so childish, so fun.

His chest felt lighter every time Lance smiled at him. 

December 4th 

Keith had been up so late studying that he completely forgot that Shiro was bringing him coffee the next morning.

He was just barely pulling himself back to consciousness, groaning in his pillow, when he heard the sound of Shiro using his key to get inside Keith’s apartment, step inside, stomp the snow off his boots, and then–

“No fucking way.”

Keith’s eyes shot open.

He vaulted out of bed, only in boxers, stumbling out to where Shiro was standing with a coffee carrier and an open mouth, staring at the fake tree box on the floor.

Keith hadn’t moved it from where he first put it in the living room. 

“Listen–”

“You got a tree?” Shiro asked excitedly. “Oh my god, this is fantastic. I need to call Adam, he will freak out, we need to celebrate–”

“Lance got me a tree,” Keith said, plucking a coffee from the carrier Shiro held. “It’s this, uh, thing we are doing.”

Shiro looked even more delighted. “A thing? With the guy that you definitely don’t have a crush on?”

Keith scowled. “Fuck off, I don’t.”

“Sorry, Keith!” His brother sang cheerfully, walking over to the couch. “No gay man talks that much about the eye color of someone they dislike.”

He dropped onto the couch with a grin and patted the cushions next to him. “Tell me all about it.”

Keith grumbled, snagging a hoodie he left on the couch and tugging it on.

“It’s nothing, he just thinks he can get me to like Christmas. We made a bet, if he gets me to admit it, then I’ll take his shift on Christmas.”

Shiro nodded slowly. “And what will you be doing for this bet?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “A whole bunch of annoying Christmas things, I guess.”

Shiro nodded some more. “Probably, like, pretty romantic stuff, huh?”

Keith glared at him. “No.”

Shiro snorted. “Christmas is the most romantic holiday of the year, Keith.”

“What? No, it’s not!”

“Uh, yes it is.”

“You’re making something out of nothing.”

Shiro laughed, jerking his chin towards the tree. 

“That’s not nothing.”

***

And then Lance had to go and be all respectful of Keith’s boundaries.

And get him what was maybe the most delicious drink Keith had ever had.

And Lance’s eyes looked really, really blue when there was white snow everywhere. 

So. Keith may have fucked himself with this one. 

December 5th 

Keith trudged through finals. Rather than going out and partying, he instead collapsed in bed by eight PM and slept until his phone was ringing. 

He fumbled for it in his blankets, pressing it against his cheek.

“Hello?” He mumbled.

“Keith?”

Keith sat up, suddenly much more awake. “Lance?”

“Oh thank god, I was worried you would be under someone or over a toilet after finals. Listen, I need help.”

Keith wondered if there was any world where he would have said no to him.

***

“So then my classmate says that my program would only work if I was looking to take over the world,” Pidge said. “And I told her, great, so it works!”

Pidge burst out laughing and Keith chuckled, smiling down at the bar.

The pub was crowded, blasting Christmas music, and smelled like a bunch of artificial holiday scents all crammed into one. Before, Keith would have made an excuse to leave as soon as possible.

But now, Keith found himself happy to stay.

“So,” Pidge smiled at him. “You and Lance, huh?”

Keith’s entertained smile fell.

“Don’t look so freaked out,” Pidge punched his arm lightly. “I’ve known you liked him ever since he asked you out.”

“What? I hated him.”

“No, you didn’t,” Pidge said, a glint in their eyes. “You were a little impressed, don’t even lie. Besides, you had that hopeless look on your face when he first walked in, just like you did with James.”

“Gross.”

“Agreed,” Pidge said. “So don’t kiss in front of me.”

Keith let out a dry laugh. “You’re getting a little ahead of yourself there, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Pidge’s eyes lingered on something behind Keith’s shoulder. “But he’ll get there.”

Keith turned. Lance was sitting with Hunk, his chin rested on his palm as he listened attentively to whatever Hunk was saying. He always did that. 

Lance always looked at you as if you hung the moon. 

“See, there’s that look again,” Pidge huffed. “Hopeless.”

December 6th 

For the first part of the day, Keith was worried he had something in his teeth. 

That seemed like the only reasonable explanation for why Lance suddenly refused to look at him. 

Because the only other explanation was because Lance met Shiro, saw he was an amputee, and then got weird.

And that couldn’t happen.

That couldn’t happen because Keith would probably hate him forever.

He kept on trying to make eye contact with Lance all shift, but he was persistent in not looking at Keith. And then, at some point, as their shift transitioned to cooking in Shay’s kitchen, Lance started to get mad at him. 

Keith was never known for having the best hold on his temper and found himself herding Lance out into the alleyway.

He could barely hear the answers he demanded, the blood rushing in his ears, until–

Lance bit down on the corner of his lip. “Look, we can just drop the bet.”

Keith looked up at him, his anger sliding into shock. “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, let’s just forget it,” Lance said. “Ignore me being a giant asshole, I mean, Shiro looks incredibly capable, I’m pretty sure he could crush me with one hand, but I just– I don’t know man, you would be much more helpful to him than me on Christmas.”

Keith stared at him. “ That’s what this is about?”

He couldn’t believe it. Lance was being weird because he thought that he had taken Shiro’s aid from him on Christmas?

“While Shiro is capable,” Keith shrugged easily, “sure, he needs help with some things. But his husband, Adam, is almost always there. And will definitely help on Christmas. And Pidge’s brother is going to be there too. I would be helpful on Christmas, but I’m not necessary.”

Lance was worrying his lip, eyes big, not convinced.

So Keith did something uncomfortable.

He fixed Lance with a hard stare. “I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”

Keith felt the words rush out in a heavy roll of nerves. He didn’t like saying it, didn’t like acknowledging that there was the tiniest part of him that liked it. 

But Lance’s resulting grin was worth it. 

***

“All I ever do is think about it.”

Keith could safely say that he had never in his life planned to spill open like that to someone. But Lance held firm, stayed steady. 

***

“Okay, so what are we going to do about it?”

***

Keith sat, perched on the armrest of his couch, staring at the tree box.

It hadn’t moved since he first put it there.

Clutching his mug of tea, Keith slowly rose. He walked in a slow circle around the box, tapping his fingers against the mug.

Poked it a couple times with his sock. Tried to get over the ridiculous anxiety he felt looking at it. 

I don’t do things I don’t want to do. 

“Fuck it,” he said decisively, leaning down and ripping the box open. 

December 7th

“So,” Adam said airily. “Tell me about the boy.”

Keith scowled, handing him another stack of books. “There is no boy.”

“That’s not what my boy is saying.”

“Well, Shiro is a filthy liar.”

“Oh, so you’re not spending your December doing a bunch of Christmas activities that you had sworn off for life with a boy that just happens to be cute?”

“How do you know he’s cute?”

“You admit it? He’s cute?”

Keith ground his teeth together.

“Tell me about the boy.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Keith said as he broke down a box. “Lance is a friend that is hopelessly attractive, I’m screwed and planning a life in a monastery probably.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Adam, put that book on the “Staff Picks” shelf and I will disown,” Keith said as Adam tauntingly dangled A Farewell to Arms near the stack. “I fell asleep while reading it like three times.”

“That’s because you are the most chaotic reader I know,” Adam said patiently. “And you don’t trust the classics.”

“Because why would I trust someone from two-hundred years ago to know how to keep me entertained?”

Before Adam could respond, a figure materialized in the corner. 

“Lance?” 

Lance offered a shy smile. He looked adorable, nervous and tucked in the corner. 

“This is Lance?” Adam’s grin was downright devious.

“You guys have got to stop doing that.”

“What?” Now Adam looked eager. “I can’t be excited to meet your friends?”

“I’m not twelve,” Keith grumbled before redirecting his attention to Lance. “What’s up?”

Lance now realized that Keith looked in fact very busy. “Sorry, I just wanted to see if you were free.”

Keith prayed that Adam didn’t see the blush rise up his cheeks. 

***