The Silent Kind

Adorkable( a chapter)

Art credit to however the hell made it

There is a coffee bar nestled in the posh, trendy shops of midtown Houston. The walls outside are a rustic brick covered in ivy and bougainvillea hedged by a wrought iron picket fence. The dark patio furniture sports black umbrellas and the path leading to the door is dotted with carpet moss growing between flagstones. Inside are dark wood panel walls, heavy leather furniture, and a mahogany bar that looks like it came right out of an old western - brass rail and all. Well worn board games and stacks of old books litter the low tables interspersed between loveseats and armchairs. The dull glass eyes of a nine point buck stare in judgement of blue haired hipsters that linger by the antique cash register. All in all it's not a terrible place so far as coffee shops go. The chairs are comfortable. The music is classical. No one's smoking cloves in the corner. And they make coffee for people who actually like coffee, not just the idea of it.

Of course Keith didn't much care about any of that. So long as he was left alone to read his book and drink his americano in peace he didn't give a rat's ass what the place looked like. Just so long as it didn't have a pair of screaming toddlers or hyper-judgemental Cuban mother to wreck his calm. The same could not be said for Keith's house at the moment.

Maria McClain had successfully turned her visit into an occupation and almost instantly wore out her welcome chiding Pidge for. . . well. For pretty much everything she did. From slouching sideways on the couch to not having a 'real' job. Nevermind that her work from home job pays twice what Keith's go try not to get shot job ever will. Pidge doesn't put enough effort into her looks. She doesn't even own make-up. Not that she needs it to impress anyone, she's morally opposed to that kind of deception anyway. Something Keith actually likes about her. But she never cooks. Not a thing. Ever. Nevermind that Pidge is the one who taught Keith how to cook with more than an iron skillet and open fire. She's a mess. She never cleans. Except for the end of the month when she alphabetizes the spice drawer and scrubs the walls. She's not Catholic. Not even Christian. Sometimes Maria forgets that Keith isn't actually her son. Or Catholic. Or even Christian. Usually he doesn't have the heart to correct her. He might if she brings it up again though.

Pidge was just one more passive aggressive reorganization of the kitchen away from sending Nyma a photo of Lance's twins hogtied in her trunk with the caption "Do you know where your kids are?" They would have a blast at it. Those boys loved pictures and even more playing pretend. Their mother on the other hand would not find it the slightest bit funny. She would raise holy hell about Maria taking the kids across state lines without her permission. Custody wasn't settled and the way things were going it didn't look like Lance would get it. Nyma was a grade A bitch but she had a steady job and had never been arrested. Things that could not be said of Lance.

And that is the only reason Keith hasn't kicked them all out by now.

He was stalling. He knew it. Pidge knew it. Even they knew it. No one said anything. Lance was more a mess than anyone wanted to admit. He refused to go back to New York and wouldn't explain why. Avoiding Nyma of course but Keith had a bad feeling it was more than just that. Call it a cop sense. Lance was being cagey. Like he had something to hide. Keith wasn't sure he wanted to know what. So he found himself sitting with his de facto brother-in-law nearly a hundred miles from home to avoid the issue.

"I meet your wager and raise-" Matt paused his silly accent to think of something ridiculous. "Why I think I shall raise you twenty guineas. Fowl. The bird. Not the coin."

The college girl sitting across from him giggled and Keith rolled his eyes but didn't look away from his book. You would think Matt should be better at the accent as much time as he spent with Coran and Allura but it was almost offensively bad. Keith sometimes wondered if that were intentional. Given the way it made the girl's cheeks flush and lashes flutter he was pretty sure it is. Matt just smiled as he laid down his cards on the little table between their coffee cups.