Star Crossed

Chapter 2: Out and About

Summary:
Lance grows bomb-ass tomatoes, Keith is really exhausted, Adam and Shiro are honestly OTP, Shay is a sweetheart, Hunk is so pure, Pidge swears a lot, Allura has such a big stupid crush, and the path of fate for our boys get a little bit more narrow.

[LANCE]

Lance did not speak a word that morning to anyone. Well, no, that's not true - he whispered praise to Kaltenecker for being the best, most lovely cow in the entire world, and he cursed under his breath at a chicken that tried to nip him - but he didn't talk to any person. Avoidance seemed like the right thing to do for now.

Aunt Hira had gotten angry with Lance before - mocking, usually - but last night had been different. Something about the venom in her tone, the lack of compassion with which she looked at him - looked at him like he was less than nothing. It wasn't the contempt that bothered Lance, not really. He could handle that. He'd gotten used to that. It was something else, something that Lance wasn't quite ready to admit to himself yet, so he punched down the uncomfortable feeling deep into his throat, willfully denying its existence.

Needless to say, Lance at least made a point of preparing everything perfectly the next morning, not exactly jumping to be on the receiving end of that wrath again.

Much to his relief, tea and breakfast passed with little trouble. Lance continued his day in stony silence, doing his best to stay out of the women's way while he worked on his morning duties. The bedrooms, staircase, and Aunt Hira's study were all on his agenda to be cleaned, and Lance was still was hoping to slip back up to the city today, so he did not waste anytime getting started.

By eleven, he had made his way to the garden. Humming to himself, Lance weeded and cleared the lawn of the first few brittle leaves that lost their luster to the autumn air, and he was glad for the manual labor. It had his heart working, chasing away the brisk chill that morning settled on any of his exposed skin - hands, ankles, the back of his neck. It would not be much longer before Marmoran winter hit, and while the frost snap was brutal when it came, Lance at least appreciated that it wasn't as long or as intensely snow-ridden as it was in the mountains.

When he finished, Lance grabbed up a large haul of tomatoes for Hunk, hoping his friend would appreciate them; Lance still owed him in more ways than he could count on both hands.

It was hard to know exactly how long he'd been working outside, but it was long enough to start to wear him down. Lance's back was starting to ache and his limbs strained, tense from the confusing experience of sweating in crisp air. He released a low groan, taking a quick break by stepping back to appreciate his handiwork - a well-manicured, personal Arcadia, grown and maintained and well-loved by him. It was easy to take pride in his work, even more as he grew older, as it all became a part of him. The lush, defiant grass that stayed green despite the cold, the heavy fruits and vegetables that managed through the heat of summer and into the grips of autumn, the sort of imperfect slope of the drive up to the front door... It wasn't home, but it was something of his.

Stretching, Lance pressed his hands to his lower back, groaning with each pop of his joints. A little marimba of aches and pains radiated from the spot, and he was so absorbed in the momentary release that he almost did not notice the sound of a horse beyond the front gate.

His brows shot up high into his hairline in surprise, and watched the road - the women of the house very seldom had visitors, and when they did, it was usually someone he was sent to fetch. The approaching unmistakable clopping of hooves grew louder -- it sounded like more than one horse? -- and Lance drifted in the general direction of the gate, a mild mixture of anxiety and excitement bubbling in his stomach.