A, You're Adorable (Klance) [DISCONTINUED]

Eleven: K is for Kid

No, I don't like kids, especially those trapped in older bodies like you.

Hunk gifted Magikarp-et the first to Lance as a token of goodwill and luck. Fat chance it would help him with his issues with Keith. No offense to Magikarp-et the first, of course, but no digital fish could push the odds of the afternoon meeting in Lance's favor.

The Cuban kicked at the pavement with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The park was close enough to Keith's house to walk there, so he was probably taking his sweet time strolling along. Lance checked the clock standing in the park square. The Korean was late. Was he even going to come?

At that moment, Lance was jostled into by a mop of silky black hair. He put his hands up to stabilize them. "Hey, Keithy boy. Took you long enough."

Despite the uneven rising and falling of his chest, Keith spoke without a trace of breathiness. He crossed his arms. "Sorry I'm late; Eomma wanted me to study. Apparently you saying 'meet me at the park in 20' wasn't good enough. What's so important?"

"And I ra-a-an, I ran so far away," Lance grinned. "Uh, we need to talk."

"We could talk on Skype. There's more than just another reference."

A hurried half-landed kiss wouldn't work for Lance like it had for Shay. He held out his hand. Keith paused to contemplate it. Eventually, Lance learned how an edgy-gloved hand felt in his grip. As it happened, Keith's fingers were soft. Maybe he bothered to use the lotion Lance had recommended, despite denying it.

"What now?" Keith let his hand drop naturally to his side, forcing Lance to inch closer. With the free one, he combed through his hair.

Lance bit his lip to prevent himself from smirking before the right time. "You're pretty." He let himself exhale and smile.

Keith's lips quirked up. "I know that already. What else?"

"Maria thinks you're my boyfriend."

"Does she?" he took a step back, but Lance followed.

"Yeah. I don't want to let her down."

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down. Keith curled his fingers up. "Yeah, okay."

The Cuban tilted his head. "I know I can be stupid sometimes-"

"You mean all the time."

"-yeah, fine, all the time. But I'm not a kid anymore."

"You're not a legal adult yet."

Lance pouted. "Stop flaunting the fact that you can take me along on your edgy bike! I'm trying to say something."

The park was full of auburn, umber, and marigold leaves adorning oaks, maples, and birches. Vibrant organic litter swirled around the grass in mini gyres. It was like the pictures in Keith's mother's scrapbook that were framed by the kernels of chewy, semi-tasteless corn from her hometown.

"I'm not like those fourteen-year-old kids who might have to decide if they wanna go into space someday before they decide who they are," Lance elaborated. "It took me a while to figure things out, but I've got it down now."

There was no better reply than a nod, so that was what Keith did.

He didn't argue when Lance took his other hand. "Keith, you're an edgelord, but stay that way if it's who you are."

"Wow, so flattering."

"And you are really better than 'Loss'."

"I hope so."

Lance tightened his grip. "And I... I really, really, really like you. A lot."

Keith couldn't help himself. "Understandable."

"Keith-"

"I know. You're always messing with me, so I deserve to have revenge."

"Keith-"

And then Keith did something that was probably not proper by his mother's standards, or, for that matter, Lance's mother's standards, but he didn't care. Lance's chapstick was sugar-lemon-flavored. Yep, it was definitely not Lance's evil doppelganger or a very convincing prankster. No one but Lance would try something so outrageously unique. "I feel the same way about you."

"Well, um, that's- that's good," Lance stammered.

Keith smiled. "Tell Maria not to be disappointed."

And that was that. Nothing changed, to be honest. Keith was still Keith Ko-gay-ne, Lance was still bi-bi-bi, and Keith's mother was still overenthusiastic about his developing social life (though she didn't know why her son suddenly had hangouts every weekend). Lance reserved all his flirting for Keithy boy, and Keith found another motorcycle helmet for Lancey Lance. The leaves blanketed the ground, Allura's papers reached their due dates, and Shiro eventually gave a pop quiz. While passing him in the hallway, Alejandra slipped Miguel a Jackson, and he returned with a Hamilton for her.

One lunch period, Shiro held an "Anti-honesty Hour with Mr. Dad" in his room. The game stipulated that he would blatantly lie in response to or avoid any and every question (academic or otherwise) he was asked. Grace was, again, at the Voltron squad's table before they were. Ridiculous; what class did she have before lunch that she always got there so early?

"Whose turn is it?" Hunk queried.

"Chicken and rice's," Grace replied without looking up from her Chemistry notes.

Lance rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Grace from Math. Space Dad, do you like like Allura or Matt?"

"Allura is a strong, independent woman. Same for Matt," Shiro passed him the graded pop quiz. "Pidge's turn."

"What's your favorite Vocaloid song?"

"'Hajimete no Oto'."

Grace's highlighter rolled onto the floor. As he put it back for her, Keith paused. "Why don't you eat chicken?"

"Yeah, it is kinda weird to be Chinese and not eat it, but I have a pet chicken, so I feel bad, you know?" she underlined a polyatomic ion in blue.

"Are we gonna have the test right after Thanksgiving break?" Hunk rifled through his binder to find a hole punched flash card.

Shiro returned to his desk. "Sure. I love grading."

There was a chance that going to space required courses in organization and object priority, because Shiro's desk was amazingly uncluttered. His personal photos (of which there were a scant three) lined the corner by the wall, while his wireframes for papers lay along the edge facing the desks. Nothing but the pencil sharpener, stapler, and sign-out sheet rest on his filing cabinet. Keith knew from experience that there were exactly eight pencils and three pens in his pencil cup. There were four pencils and the odd pen in the cup Lance had on his desk at home. Keith kept all his writing implements in a drawer of his desk. Pidge's things were always rolling everywhere, and Hunk used the pencils he stuck in his pockets.

With a soft sigh, Keith leaned on Lance's shoulder. Finally, he had found a place that everyone was comfortable with, his mother included.