Chapter Text
Day 7
If you didn't read the notes, go back and do that please! ;)
The Keith and Lance Playlist ;)
1. I'm too sexy - Right Said Fred
2. Lady Marmalade - Labelle
3. My Neck, My Back - Elle King
4. Aesthetics of Hate - Machine Head
5. What Makes You Beautiful - One Direction
6. A Whole New World (Aladdin) - Brad Kane and Lea Salonga
7. You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison - My Chemical Romance
8. Can't Fight This Feeling - REO Speedwagon
9. The Very Thought of You - Red Garland
10. I'll Make Love to You - Boyz II Men
11. Stellar - Incubus
12. Piano Concert No. 2, Third Movement - Rachmaninoff
13. You and Me - Lifehouse
Bonus:
Candy Shop - 50 Cent
Closer - Nine Inch Nails
Work It - Missy Elliot
Feel Like Makin' Love - Bad Company
Day 8:
Lance dragged himself out of bed with a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. He scrubbed a hand through his wild nest of hair as a yawn split his face. Keith had already gone to work, left early to prepare for a presentation first thing in the morning, and Lance was supposed to be meeting Hunk for drinks after work this evening. Keith had frowned a little at Lance’s suggestion that he open his advent gift today without Lance, but he’d agreed it was probably the only way to do it unless he waited until tomorrow - an option neither of them had considered seriously.
Shuffling into the bathroom, idly scratching at his stomach, Lance could admit to himself he’d only suggested it because he was a fucking coward. What Keith opened today seemed silly on the surface, but there was some real feelings buried in there and Lance was honestly glad he wasn’t there to see Keith’s face when he read what Lance had left for him. Except, now he didn’t know what to expect, and the uncertainty was eating him alive.
He hurried through his shower and other morning ablutions, words flitting through his brain. For some godforsaken reason he’d thought it would be cute to write silly little holiday haikus for one of the days. And it had been a cute idea - right up until the poems had taken a hard right turn into the realm of Serious Emotions TM . There were four of them in total and the words for each were seared into his brain, unforgettable at this point.
The first, titled Keith wasn’t too bad. It had stayed pretty close to Lance’s goal of being silly but well-intentioned. He’d really only wanted to make Keith smile with it.
Sexy, adorable
Unexpected best friend
Wrong about aliens
Lance didn’t think there was much in those three lines that would give his boyfriend pause. The second, Christmas was much the same. The only underlying truth it was likely to expose was that Lance really had no skill for writing haikus - the syllables/sound units thing honestly confused the shit out of him. So yeah, the poem was poorly executed, but heartfelt and cheesy - pretty much everything Lance aspired to be on a daily basis.
Lights, tree, warm cookies
Together with my family
Everything I enjoy
Selecting a suit from his closet at random, Lance dressed with just as little focus as he’d spared for showering. He couldn’t let go of his own irritation long enough to stop second guessing himself. Because if the first two poems had been exactly what he was shooting for, that all fell apart with the third, Tradition.
Old and comfortable
There is still room for one more
How we show we care
That was so much more revealing than Lance had planned to be, gave away so much more than he really felt comfortable with at this point. But instead of fixing it with the last haiku, he’d just fucking doubled down and practically served Keith his heart on a platter when he’d penned the last poem, Family.
None of your own now
Will share mine with you instead
Love making you smile
What in the fuck had he been thinking. And now he hadn’t been around to see how Keith reacted to those words, to what essentially amounted to a confession of much deeper feelings than anything they’d ever talked about. People said it all the time, often he even agreed, but right now, Lance felt it on a bone deep level - he was a fucking idiot.
He stumbled into the kitchen seeking coffee. If he was going to keep contemplating his complete and irredeemable stupidity, he’d damn well do it when he was properly caffeinated. However, he was immediately distracted from that pure and noble goal by a large yellow square stuck to the microwave. Stomach turning over in anxiety, he pulled the note off and read:
Princess,
There’s eggs inside; just need to be reheated. Hopefully you didn’t wake up too late to eat them. See you at work.
-Keith
P.S. These things are harder to fucking write than they look, but here goes nothing.
Lance
Insane but perfect
Gives me what no one else will
What no one else can
Luck
All are born and die
Only chance in between
Stars align; found you
Oh.
Lance’s hands were trembling and his eyes were stinging by the time he finished. Oh hell. It looked like Lance wasn’t going to have to tone down anything - he was going to have to up his game. Because against all odds, his boyfriend was a motherfucking romantic bastard.
Bonus: Set in Day -1
“How goes the baking?”
Hunk’s voice was slightly tinny on speakerphone, but it was still warm and comforting and so Hunk that Lance almost couldn’t breathe with how much he needed to hear it right now. He groaned loudly and rested his head on the top of his kitchen counter to whine directly into the microphone. He manfully resisted the urge to bang it against the hard surface. “Why on Earth did I ever think this was a thing I could do?”
Used to Lance’s drama after this many years, Hunk just laughed low and easy. “Because it is? I mean your mom gave you the recipe and everything; it’s not even like you have to do this from memory.’
Lance pouted. He didn’t bother to lift his head off the counter. “I’ve already had a small kitchen fire,” he stated flatly.
An unidentifiable crashing noise sounded on the other end of the line. “What! Lance, are you okay? Is everything still operational? Do you need to come over and use my kitchen?” The questions were rapid-fire and alarmed.
Lance felt slightly guilty for worrying his best friend, but in all honesty he was worried too. He laughed humorlessly. “Nah, big guy. I’m good here.”
“Okay, if you say so.” Hunk sounded way more dubious than Lance thought was warranted. “Did you fuck your kitchen up? You know you don’t get the security deposit back if you light the place on fire.”
Lance made some pitiful noise that was the bastard lovechild of a whine and sigh. "Look it doesn’t matter. You could light me on fire at this point and I’d probably thank you for it.“ He was so far in over his head with all of this that death by immolation seemed like the only way out.
Hunk sucked in a breath, the sound staticy over the connection. “Oh no. Things are going that bad?”
Lance finally lifted his head just to bury one flour-covered hand in the nest of his hair and rake it through strands glued together with who fucking knew what at this point. “Hunk, at this point I’ve lit my kitchen on fire, I have chocolate literally everywhere, I still have seven days i haven’t thought of gifts for, my kitchen table looks like it’s either doubling as a gay nightclub or a kindergarten classroom with all the glitter it’s sporting, I had to call my mom,” He squeezed his eyes shut. “And-” He stopped to take a deep breath. “And I don’t even know if he wants any of this.” He thought that just about summed up the swirling morass of defeat and anxiety knotting his insides up.
“Do you?” Hunk wasted no time in firing back.
Confused, Lance’s nose wrinkled. “What?”
“Do you? Want this, want to do this for him?”
Lance laughed. “Yeah man, I thought that was well established.” He was resigned to his fate at this point, resigned to the fact that he was helpless to resist doing anything Keith would let him get away with just on the off chance that it might make him happy.
“Then it kind of doesn’t matter does it? You won’t know if he wants it until you do something and he reacts. But you want to do things like this for him and so, right now, in this moment, it doesn’t matter how he reacts. It makes you happy to be crazy and ridiculous and go all out for the people you care about, so do it! Forget about what Keith might think and let yourself find the joy in going crazy for your boyfriend.” The smile he was wearing was audible in his voice.
Grateful beyond what any words could convey for this huge man with the even bigger heart, Lance squeezed his eyes shut again and sucked in a shuddering breath. “I literally have no idea how I would survive without you, Hunk,” he said around the lump in his throat.
Like a good bro, Hunk stoically ignored the little hitch in Lance’s voice, breezing right past it. “I know. I’ll be there in about thirty by the way; I’m gonna stop at the liquor store for that vanilla whiskey you like.”
Lance jolted upright. “Wait, no. Man, you don’t have to do that,” he was quick to assure. He hadn’t called Hunk to guilt him into coming over. He knew he’d be knee-deep in work; he shouldn’t have to bail Lance out. This was a mess of Lance’s own making and he should damn well be the one to dig himself out of it.
“Lance, you’ve already lit your kitchen on fire once. I’ll be there in thirty.” Hunk’s tone brooked no argument.
Lance smiled stupidly at his phone. “Yeah, okay. Thanks man.” God, how was it possible for people as genuinely good as Hunk to exist? Lance was so lucky to have found him.
“Anytime.” There was a brief pause and some faint rustling noises, then Hunk went on. “Also, you should decide which is less dangerous for us to do after we’ve been drinking for a while - the baking or the gift brainstorming - because one of them is going to get a little precarious and I’m not deciding if your apartment or your relationship holds more value.”
Ridiculous grin stretching over his features, Lance shrugged. “Kitchen’s already been on fire once today. What’s a little more accidental arson among friends?” And there was no way in hell Lance was putting anything in that fucking tree for Keith after he’d been drinking. It would either be nothing but dic pics or shitty love poems - it could go either way for Lance when he got drunk.
“Copy that,” Hunk answered, clearly reading all the unspoken things in Lance’s answer, and then disconnected the call.
Lance surveyed his kitchen again and his shoulders sagged. This was a mess that even Hunk and copious amounts of alcohol might not even be able to save.