#//which is basically what he ends up doing in his moonlight job anyway lmao

[xfilescat]

something else (steve harrington x named!reader

word count: about 3k

warnings: none except language (maybe not even language, i might’ve taken out all the swearing lmao)

preview: “You were so caught up that you barely registered Hopper speaking. ‘Have you two been drinking already?’

Joyce chuckled. ‘I don’t think so, Hop. That’s not alcohol. That’s something else.’

‘Drugs?’

‘Something else.’”

A/N: umm hey guys! guess who’s back w another attempt at being a good writer!!! i gotta tell you something: i’ve literally written and scrapped like five entire fics since i posted “a river in egypt” because i do this thing where i reread something i’ve written so many times that i start to despise it. i’m basically holding myself at gunpoint to post this one because i really wanna break that cycle!! also forgive me for completely ignoring the release date of “we built this city.” this fic is set around june 1985 & the song came out in august of that year, but it’s just such a good example of a bad ‘80s song (now there’s an oxymoron for ya) that i had to pretend it came out earlier!! also, there is one prerequisite for reading this fic: you MUST either listen to or look up the lyrics to “he’s the greatest dancer” by sister sledge before you read this, otherwise you’ll be a little confused about a few jokes. anyway, i hope you enjoy cuz i had a lot of fun writing this. oh, and i’ve included a list of all the songs mentioned in this fic because i love music and i think it will help you to kinda feel what i was feeling when i wrote each scene :) so take a look!

songs used/implied/referenced: “last chance on the stairway” by duran duran

“he’s the greatest dancer” by sister sledge

“wonderful tonight” by eric clapton

“we built this city” by starship

“train in vain” by the clash

“one more night” by phil collins

June 1st, 1985 was the Hawkins High School senior prom, and from the moment you zipped up your sparkly dress and stepped into your sky-high heels, you told yourself that you were going to stick it out for the whole night. Yes, prom was an archaic, overrated triviality, but you figured that after all of the stuff that had happened last year, you could use a little triviality. Plus, you were there with Steve, so you knew that even if nothing else lived up to your expectations, you’d have a good time. He was your best friend.

You had to admit that the Hawkins High School prom committee had done a bang-up job of turning the run-down gymnasium into something halfway gorgeous. There were glimmering paper stars and streamers hanging from the rafters, a big shiny disco ball was casting flattering beams of light across everyone’s faces, and they had even gotten one of those classic balloon arches under which students posed for Mr. Comenski’s camera. It looked like a cheesy movie, but in a good way, an “I’ll remember this forever” way.

About a half hour before the end of prom, one of your favorite songs started to play. You and Steve were mingling with some friends at a table when you heard the first few notes, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the dance floor so fast you nearly knocked a couple of people over. He had to have the patience of a saint for putting up with you, for just smiling good-naturedly whenever you did things like that—which was often. When it came to you and your antics, there was never any question as to whether or not he was along for the ride. He always was.

“I gotta say,” you said after a few minutes of dancing. “This night isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.” You took his hand and twirled under it.

“I know.” Steve had to shout to be heard over Duran Duran. “This is really fun. The only thing I’d change is your dancing ability.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wow. Sorry I haven’t mastered your signature move of standing there and bopping your head. We can’t all have your god-given talent.”

He grinned and nodded, easily sidestepping your sarcasm. “Did you know Sister Sledge actually wrote ‘He’s The Greatest Dancer’ about me?”

You laughed and placed your hands on his shoulders as “Last Chance on the Stairway” faded out and an old Eric Clapton song filled the room. “Ah, so you’re the ‘champion of dance.’”

“My moves would put you in a trance,” he confirmed as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You two began to slow dance, albeit a bit formally. There was a safe and friendly distance between you. Nothing like Carol and Tommy, who were literally making out with each other ten feet away from you. It was nice: you chatted as you swayed, joking around and singing along to the song. You shut your eyes and tried to memorize every single detail: how the way you were angled made the music sound a little louder in your right ear, how Steve’s hands felt around your waist, how badly your shoes hurt. In that moment, everything seemed special and everything seemed to be a part of something bigger and more beautiful.

Then, they cut Clapton short and started playing “We Built This City” for the second time that night and you opened your eyes the same reluctant way you do when you hear your alarm go off in the morning. You and Steve looked around at your fellow students kicking up their heels and then locked eyes in mutual confusion. You shrugged. Maybe nearly dying a couple times gave you and him a lower tolerance for bad music: life was too damn valuable to spend any second of it listening to Starship. Steve said something to you, but you couldn’t hear him. You leaned in closer. “What?”

“I said, do you wanna get out of here?”

You smiled in relief. “Yes, definitely.”

He immediately took your hand and led you off the dance floor. You made a beeline for the back door and to your surprise, he didn’t let go right away. Not even after the door swung shut behind you and there were no more crowds to get lost in.

It was tranquil outside. You could still hear the music from the gym, but other than that, there was no sound save for your heels clicking against the pavement. It made being on campus at night feel all the more surreal. So did holding Steve’s hand. “Hey,” you said, peering up at him. He looked almost unreal in the moonlight, and you had to tighten your grip on him to make sure that you weren’t dreaming. “Is this something we do now?” You started swinging your still-entwined hands. As close as you had become in the past few months, holding on this long was new.

He chuckled. “Sure, why not?”

“Alright, then. Cool.”

“Cool.”

You listened to your footsteps for a little while longer. Once you reached Steve’s car, you leaned against the passenger side while he unlocked the doors. You watched him fumble with his keys in the low light before he glanced across the roof at you. “Shannon?”

“Mhm?”

“Where are we even going?”

You rested your chin on top of your folded arms. “I dunno. Anywhere but here?”

“We could go grab some food to kill time before Tina’s party.”

You sighed. “Right. That. I forgot about that.” You knew that an after party was part of the whole prom deal, but you’d let it slip from your mind. Or maybe you’d blocked it out because it was too unpleasant to think about. Standing around in some stranger’s trashed house while your classmates did dumb, drunken shit wasn’t exactly your definition of a good time. You opened the door and slid into the passenger seat with another sigh.

Steve sat down behind the wheel and met your eyes with an authoritarian, knowing look on his face. You knew that look. You called it his “dad face.” It was usually aimed at one of the kids—or you—when they tried to do something stupid. “You don’t wanna go?”

“Don’t give me that damn look.” He laughed, and you fought back a smile before continuing. “It’s not that I don’t wanna go, it’s just that…” You trailed off.

“You don’t wanna go,” he finished for you.

You grinned. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “In all honesty, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about going, either. It’s just gonna be more of the same. Plus, Hargrove may not have shown up here, but there’s no way he’d miss out on free booze and I reeeally don’t want to deal with him tonight.”

“Exactly. So can we just ditch it?”

“Please.”

“Thank goodness.” You leaned back in your seat and sighed for a third time, this time in contentedness. “Now, what are we gonna do with all this free time?”

He thought it over for a moment as he started the car. You watched as a smile eventually spread across his face. “I have a great idea, Shan,” he said matter-of-factly, pulling out of his parking space.

“What is it?”

“Put your seatbelt on first.”

You complied. “Where are we going?”

“To a disco on the outskirts of Frisco.”

“Steve,” you giggled. “Come on.”

“Okay, okay. I know a couple of people who’re throwing a very exclusive party tonight, and it just so happens that we’re on the guest list.”

When you walked up to the front yard of Chief Hopper’s cabin, he and Joyce were sitting on the porch enjoying the weather. “You kids are back early,” he commented. You were far enough away that he had to shout for you to hear him.

“Yeah,” Steve called. “We skipped out on the whole after-prom thing.” He was helping you hold up your skirt so it wouldn’t get dragged across the forest floor. You were still in your dress and he was still in his tux even though you both had brought a change of clothes for Tina’s party. You knew that the kids would love to see you guys all dressed up.

“Good,” Hopper replied. “I don’t need any more drunk and stupid teenagers running around my town tonight doing drunk and stupid things.”

Your high heels were turning the leaves into a treacherous obstacle course, but you were determined to make it to the cabin without assistance. You stumbled once and steadied yourself, then another time, and then another time before Steve finally rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around your waist. You looked up at him and raised your eyebrows. “Is this something we do now?”

He burst out laughing and you couldn’t contain yourself, either—you were overcome by that inescapable, long-lasting kind of laughter that only inside jokes brought about. Steve’s dress shoes weren’t ideal for traipsing through the woods, either, so with all your giggling, neither of you were very surefooted. About thirty feet from the porch, you stepped onto a particularly slippery patch of leaves and went down, taking Steve with you. This only served to exacerbate your laughing fits. It suddenly seemed like absolutely everything was funny, from the leaves in your hair to the awkward position you had landed in. You were so caught up that you barely registered Hopper speaking. “Have you two been drinking already?”

Joyce chuckled. “I don’t think so, Hop. That’s not alcohol. That’s something else.”

“Drugs?”

“Something else.”

“Ah.”

After a few more seconds of mindlessness, Steve stood up and helped you to your feet. “Alright,” he said, dusting himself off. “We’re gonna make it this time. Are you good?”

You winced as you stretched out your arm and felt a fresh soreness in your elbow. “I’m good enough. I just need to…” You grabbed his shoulder and reached down to take off your shoes. “There. Now I can walk.” You bunched up your skirt so it wouldn’t drag and started toward the cabin. Steve fell into step beside you and muttered something under his breath about how you should’ve just taken your shoes off earlier. You went wide-eyed. “Oh, okay! Keep it up, Steve. Keep it up and you’ll be wearing these shoes.”

He laughed and looked at you like you were crazy. There was something else in his eyes, though, something intense and admiring, that threatened to send you reeling back down to the forest floor. “What the hell does that even mean?” His playful tone of voice was completely out of sync with that look.

“You heard me,” you replied, but you said it to the ground so he wouldn’t see you blush.

Once you reached the porch, you made small talk with Hopper and Joyce until a cacophony of voices drew you inside the cabin. The kids were huddled in front of the television watching some old soap opera. From what you could tell, they were parroting lines from the show in ridiculous voices and completely losing their minds over it. “Alright, kids,” Steve called as he took a seat at one of the chairs at the kitchen table and kicked off his shoes. “Party’s over. We’re back.”

El turned around first. When she saw you, her jaw dropped and she immediately ran over. “You look so pretty,” she said emphatically, twisting the skirt of your dress so that it sparkled in the light. You beamed and ruffled her hair.

Steve watched this interaction with that same dazzled look on his face from a few minutes before. When you met his eyes, however, he cleared his throat and turned to look over at the rest of the kids. “So, what have you guys been up to?”

Max leaned over the back of the sofa. “Never mind what we’re doing. Why are you home so early?”

“Yeah, it’s prom,” Lucas said. “Aren’t you supposed to be out all night?”

“I bet they got kicked out,” Dustin teased.

Mike scoffed. “They didn’t get kicked out. They’re not cool enough to get kicked out.”

“We didn’t get kicked out,” you confirmed. “Prom’s over. We just didn’t go to any after parties ’cause we’d rather hang out with you guys.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “And by the way, we are so cool enough to get kicked out.”

He and the kids then launched into a ridiculous debate about what you two would’ve had to have done to get yourselves thrown out of prom. You stopped listening after Will posited that you guys could have been shown the door because you only hung out with middle schoolers. You instead focused your attention on El, who was still studying your dress. “Shannon,” she said thoughtfully. “What is prom like?”

You motioned for her to follow you over to the couch. “Prom is really cliché, but really fun. You get to dress up and see your friends and just have a great time.” You set your high heels on the floor and relaxed into the cushions.

El sat down next to you and folded her legs. “What do you do there?”

“You dance, mostly.”

“Like at the Snowball?”

You half-smiled, half-cringed as memories of tense, uncomfortable slow dances with nervous preteen boys at your own Snowball flashed through your mind. “Yeah, sorta. But dancing at prom is different.”

“Different how?”

You thought about it for a minute. “Honestly, I can’t explain. It’s just different.”

“Geez, Shan. Don’t be so cryptic,” Dustin interrupted as he flopped onto the adjacent sofa. The debate must have been resolved because Steve and the others make their way over, too. Steve joined Dustin on the couch while Mike, Will, Max, and Lucas sat down on the floor.

You chuckled. “I’m not being cryptic! It’s just different. Here, you know what? We’ll show you.” You stood up and held out your hand to Steve.

He tore his eyes away from the television. “We will?”

“Just get up.”

He grinned, stood up, and took your hand. You started to pull him into the kitchen where there was more open space. “Wait,” he said, trying and failing to dig his sock-covered heels into the wood floor. “We’re gonna dance to this?” Something by The Clash was playing.

“No, not this.” You dropped his hand when you reached the kitchen and walked over to the radio. “Something more like…” you let yourself trail off as you tuned through different stations looking for an appropriate song: something slow, something sweet. You stopped when you heard the beginning of “One More Night” and turned it up loud. “Something more like this,” you said, walking back into the kitchen.

“Okay, everybody,” Steve said to the kids once you’d reached him. “Pay attention.” Five out of the six of them regarded you two with a casual interest, but El looked completely engaged. “If you’re leading, you’re gonna keep your hands right about here,” Steve said, putting his hands on your waist.

“That’s right,” you said. “No higher, no lower. Now, if you’re not leading, you’re going to put your hands on the other person’s shoulders like this.”

“We already know this stuff,” Mike interrupted. “We’ve all danced before.”

“Yeah,” Dustin agreed. “Hey, Mike, remember when your sister practically begged me to dance with her at the Snowball?” Mike whacked the teasing smirk off Dustin’s face with a pillow.

Steve shrugged. “Well, then consider this a refresher course.”

“And I told you, dancing at prom is different,” you added. “It’s a lot slower.” You began to move to the music.

“And closer,” Steve said, guiding you toward him until you two were pressed right up against each other. You looked at him and widened your eyes a little. That wasn’t how you had danced together at prom.

“So, uh, from here on,” you said quietly, “you just sorta sway.”

Steve nodded. “It’s easy.”

After that, neither of you spoke for a while. You just held each other and stepped from side to side. During the silence, Phil Collins sang the lyric “I will always be with you” and you realized that this wasn’t how best friends were supposed to dance with each other. The kids seemed to have picked up on that, too, because they’d all pointedly fixed their gazes back onto the TV. Out of nowhere, you began to laugh. You laughed because you were nervous, and you were nervous because you were young and a little in love. Steve leaned back and looked down at you. “Are you okay?” He spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.

You moved your head in some semblance of a nod. You had stopped dancing by then and you started to sink down to the floor. Steve sat down, too, eyeing you cautiously. “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know,” you managed to say. “I have no idea.” You squeezed your eyes shut and took a few deep breaths. Once you were calm, you opened your eyes and looked over at Steve. When you saw how utterly confused he was, though, with his face all scrunched up the way it gets when he’s doing his math homework, you started to giggle anew. This time, he did, too. You let yourself fall against his chest, your shoulders shaking with the force of your laughter. You felt giddy and weightless; you imagined that this must be what it felt like to be drunk. At some point, you lifted your head up just as he bent his down and your lips gently and innocently brushed against his.

The laughter stopped instantly as if someone had flipped a switch. At once, you drew his face to yours and kissed him again, this time on purpose and with fervor. He clutched you closer and reached one hand up to cup your cheek. Kissing him was like laughing with him: it was easy, it was intoxicating, and it was incredibly hard to stop. You only paused to pull away when you felt him smile against your lips. “What?”

He was already snickering. He could barely get the words out. “Is this—is this something we do now?”

You both fell back into hysterics and collapsed against each other. Your stomach was killing you and your eyes were watering and your bruised elbow was caught between Steve and the cabinet behind him, but you didn’t care. Especially not after Steve threw his arms around you and kissed you urgently. In that moment, you knew you weren’t just best friends anymore. You were something else.

[boxofdvds]

wow okay so i saw an early screening of Blindspotting tonight @ LACMA....is it too early to say it might be my favorite movie of the year???

yes, it’s a comedy. yes, i laughed really hard. yes, it also deals with gentrification, racism, PTSD, the male friendship dynamic, police brutality, raising children of color in todays society, the traps of probation, the aging of childhood friendships, and prejudice.

below the cut are some initial thoughts, post-first-viewing - i will definitely be seeing this again (and again) in theaters once it opens july 20th !!!!

{spoilers ahead}

okay so!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! five motherfuckin stars !!!!!!!! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

the q&a that took place after the screening (moderated by Moonlight’s Barry Jenkins!!!) gave some gr8 insight into the film and anyways i just have a lot of Feelings about it so here we go

- one of those movies that you can’t stop thinking “oh my god, this is so good” throughout the whole thing

- seeing it in a packed theatre was perfect: everybody laughed, gasped, and groaned together

- rafael kept emphasizing in the q&a that what he hoped would most get across to audiences is empathy. and blindspotting does the job. so much so, in fact, that he points out that at the end of the film, you are seeing a “black man with dreads pointing a gun at a police officer - and you’re rooting for him”

- daveed also mentioned the way this film deals with male friendship: specifically how when men get emotional, they will either use comedy or violence to avoid those feelings. this film truly demonstrates that, so much so that even in the end, when tears run down collin’s [daveed diggs] face and miles [rafael casal] asks if he’s okay and collin finally comes to terms with his pain and says “no”, miles’ first instinct is to make him laugh.

- there were moments that the film began to allude to trouble for collin and i could feel my heart fill with dread because i knew the implications it had in our society (ex: when collin takes miles gun away from him & walks away and still! has!! it!!! and ur worried about him because you know if he gets fucking pulled over he could go back to prison or get shot like the man we saw get gunned down who later is said to have had an ‘unlicensed concealed firearm’ just like he now has)

- but there were also times when the film rlly surprised me (ex: when the kid has the fucking gun!!!!!!!!!!! - felt like i was in miles shoes, bc as an audience, we didn’t think through the at-home consequences of him having that gun)

- which brings me to: well-written female characters. when ashley (played brilliantly and beautifully by jasmine cephas-jones) confronts miles about the gun, she points out that if he had told her about it, she would have foreseen the possibility of their kid getting his hands on it. also: val isn’t just the Bitch who collin is still hung up on even tho she didn’t visit - we see why. her 2nd phone call with collin reveals that after the fight, that’s all she could see him as. we understand these women; we empathize with them. (also: shout out to collin’s mom just being wonderful and funny and kind and thoughtful)

- “the talk” pamphlet that collin’s mom gives to him to give to ashley; we think it’s a sex talk pamphlet, but it turns out to be a “how to talk to your child about the police” pamphlet, for ashley and her son. this was one of those small things that REALLY fucked me up; it felt like the type of reveal that introduces the rules of society in a dystopian film - but it’s not. it’s reality. and that really fucked with me. (esp after seeing Sorry To Bother You this wknd and freshly being aware of dystopian cinema)

- the entire phone call scene with collin and val where 1.) she describes what blindspotting in a way that feels natural in the dialogue, provides the audience with an open discussion rather than an absolute definition, and proves to be a showcase of her character development/backstory. and 2.) i loved the way the dual screen worked, especially when collin hangs up and instead of her side filling the screen, there is a empty, silent black void where his call was - and you feel it as much as you see it.

- characters based off people they grew up with

- alternate ending: they talked about an alt ending they wrote that they ultimately didn’t use because “you guys wouldn’t be able to handle it” lmao and honestly? we wouldn’t have. collin’s job at the halfway house is to clean the bathrooms, which he forgets to do. however, they knew a guy who was in prison for 7 years, and on his last day of probation, he forgot to clean the bathroom and got sent back to jail for seven months. basically, they said they were going to write collin to do everything right & still get sent back - which would have absolutely Broken me

- there’s a lot more but i am tired and will finish this in the AM lmao

- go!!! see !!!!!! blindspotting !!!!!!!!! support this film!!!!!

[2towels]

Roll Check [V:LD]

A Voltron: Legendary Defender fic, Klance.

Theme: DnD AU, KlanceWeek2017

Pairings Klance (Keith/Lance)

Rating: Rated E for Everyone, swear warning

Words Total: 2128

Tags: mutual pining, living vicariously through dungeons and dragons characters, dungeons and dragons dating lmao, lots of dialogue

Summary:

"Wait," Keith paused in their conversation, gesturing towards Lance with a loose hand while the other crossed over his chest. "You DM?"

---

Lance reveals a part of his backstory to Keith, who doesn't want to go through with his destiny.

Klance Week 2017 Day 2: Sacrifice

Alternate Title: Shut up and ask him out roll the dice

Read on AO3 (please)

The tense silence ended with Allura's deep breath, signaling the relaxation of everyone around the table. The Galra were reestablished as horrible, but at least they had delivered their bounty and received their reward. That was all they could ask for, with a campaign as long and exhausting as the ones carved by their current dungeon master.

"Thank space it's over." Pidge mourned, standing with a startling screech being made from the chair below her. "Allura's not allowed to DM for at least three Shiro-level campaigns. I'm done."

Shiro blanched. "I'm not doing three campaigns in a row, before any of you ask. My next one isn't ready, so who wants to step up?" He asked, mentally ticking off all he needed to do to properly prepare for the next adventure he had lined up. Without warning, his gaze shifted to Keith expectantly, who immediately tensed.

The reaction wasn't missed by the rest of the group, Allura especially. "Have you written something up, Keith?"

Shiro smiled encouragingly, but Keith didn't seem receptive of the notion. "Sure." The younger brother conceded slowly. "I could...you know." His nose scrunched and he looked back up at the group. There was no nervousness in his tone, but he certainly seemed disinterested.

Lance, from across the table, watched the scrunch of his nose with overt interest.

"Excellent. We'll meet at Shiro and Keith's place, then?" Allura asked for confirmation, folding her partition and stacking books as the rest of the table followed suit with their clean up.

Shiro nodded and answered for them, Keith distracted by his listless gathering of his own character notes. "That sounds fine. We'll text the group chat with any change of plans, but remember guys: we don't provision as well as Coran, so make sure you bring some of your favorite snacks on your own."

Together, Hunk and Lance grumbled, but they were ignored. As the rest of the table stood, Lance wandered off to find Coran, calling for a space juice order for the next week to hold them over. Hunk eyed his friend from behind with a true disdain, unable to fathom his ability to consume the syrupy product.

"Keith, you'll be okay, right?" Shiro asked quietly, glancing at his watch, "You're not too tired to ride?"

He huffed in response, noting the time himself. "I'll be fine, Shiro. I'll see you at home." Despite having so few papers and items to pack up, he took his time pulling on his coat while Shiro left, lingering if only to keep conversation steady with his closest friends while they were all gathered.

"I'm bringing my new documentaries for you next week, Keith. Later!" Pidge and Matt were the next to leave, tending to carpool despite their different living situations, and Allura patiently lingered in her dining room with her stacked books while the remaining guests shuffled around. When Lance wandered back from the kitchen to his awaiting best friend and the shuffling Keith and Allura, he was humming pleasantly and moving to finally gather his things.

Hunk was slightly dismayed at his friend's lingering, tire easy to see in the yawn he released loudly. "Hurry up, Lance." He bemoaned, watching his friend's disorganization.

"I'll give him a ride home." Keith blurted out, "If you want to head out, Hunk."

Lance, weirdly hesitant, flicked his eyes up towards Hunk. A moment passed of silence, and after, Lance's thin shoulders shrugged. "Alright then." Hunk said, a weird emphasis on his words, "I'll see you at home, Lance. Night, Allura! See ya, Keith." He moseyed to the door and tossed a wave over his shoulder, casting another meaningful glance to Lance before exiting fully and shutting the door behind him.

"Well." Allura hummed, "Lance, you know the house as good as any. Lock the door behind you and don't let the cats out. I'm off to sleep."

Keith watched their newly retired dungeon master wander away into the home, flicking the light dimmer off as she passed the switch, and took a deep breath. He was oddly calm, knowing he was being shoved opportunities by the dozens through his friends these days, but he didn't feel the need to follow through with their implications when he was so unsure, truthfully, of what he was doing in this situation. Lance was fine with being left alone, or so he seemed cheerful to pretend so, waving enthusiastically at Allura's retreating back and calling out, "Night, princess!"

A beat passed of Lance finishing his personal item gathering. "So," He said, "Giving me a ride, huh, Mullet?"

Keith bristled in response, feeling the pull of the bait and jumping at it anyway. "Yup. Hunk looked tired, you should stop joking around after games when he's had a bad run. It makes him mope and complain."

"That's just Hunk." Lance laughed, throwing his head back a little, "And he ignores my moping and complaining all the time, so I think that's fair."

"You're admitting you mope and complain constantly, then?" Keith challenged, maneuvering to the door and holding it open for his companion.

A snort came from him as he passed, lingering outside the door so Keith could come out and he could lock it behind them. "Excuse you. I'll admit I'm whiny when you admit you're emo and love that job at Hot Topic."

There was the bait he could actually resist. With a shrug, Keith shut the door behind him and descended the few steps that led from Coran's home to the street. "It pays the bills for now."

"It does not ." Lance gaped, "You love all the dramatic music and spinney racks of gauges and belly rings. That's the only reason you stay."

"You're right." He responded seriously, watching as Lance fiddled with his keys and twisted at the locks quickly. "I can't wait to put my gauges in."

Lance did a double take, not able to discern the tone Keith was using. "You're not getting gauges. Your mullet would get all clogged in the holes." He challenged, stepping down to meet him face to face, "And you would just look more like Red, proving you are a self-insert."

Unable to stop himself from retaliation towards comments on his dungeons and dragons character, Keith huffed, knowing full well his potato chip breath was fanned directly into Lance's general line of scent. He sputtered accordingly while Keith took another half-step closer. "I'm no more Red than you are Azulle." Keith accused, keeping his eyes steady with the finer gaze of his self-proclaimed rival.

Something seemed to shift with Lance in their proximity. "You know," He said, voice a little softer, "I'm actually pretty disappointed Red hasn't proposed yet. That's what you're doing, right? You can't keep me in suspense forever, here, Keithy."

"Don't call me that." Keith's flush was immediate, their positions intensified when he thought of how far he'd gotten in his character's adoration for Lance's. "Red will propose when he's ready."

A soft gasp. "So he will propose?" Lance asked gleefully, face falling as Keith stepped away. "I mean, if that's what Azulle wants, Red would probably know. He's pretty intuitive, like I keep telling you guys." Keith took another deep breath as he headed towards his bike as casually as he could.

Lance fell into step behind him easily. "That's true, but not when it comes to Azulle. Remember when they first kissed? Red has no idea what Azulle wants, like, ever. He just knows he wants to do it. Which is the sweet part." A wistful tone carried into the lankier boy's words, "They just want to make each other happy. What have you got in store for the party without Red next week? No more angsty knife hunt for now, I guess."

Keith turned suddenly, almost bumping into his shadow of a friend and leaning back against his bike to feign casualty again while he spoke. "It's a really basic dungeon. I know I can DM because I used to do it for Shiro and Matt between their competitive complicated backstory campaigns, but I..." A frustrated noise bubbled from his throat, and he was surprised to hear Lance's hum of understanding.

"You don't want to. You're a simple guy, Keith. I like that." In the dim moonlight, there was the smallest hint of color on Lance's cheeks, but he carried on, "Yeah, I always feel like I'm not doing anything right when I DM, so I haven't done it since the group became the whole group, you know? I can only imagine between Shiro's sad shitshow of tragedy and Matt's eternal moral quests that you just don't like to break into those types of stories. Oh, man, especially since you're the follow up to Allura's fallen kingdom story. Damn, that one was good. Did you see me crying an hour ago? I was hoping it wasn't obvious, but man...That was brutal."

"She's really bent on painting the Galra dirty." Keith commented quietly after Lance visibly realized he had rambled a little, shoulders bunching. "But yeah...I'm more so into the actual playing. I know I can do it, but it's not my thing."

Lance shrugged and moved to lean next to Keith on the bike gently. "It is what it is. You'll do fine, especially because Pidge complains the most besides me and she only wants a quest to move forward. You'll definitely meet that criteria if you're a hothead DM as much as you are a player."

"Wait," Keith paused in their conversation, gesturing towards Lance with a loose hand while the other crossed over his chest. "You DM?"

Soft blinking replied, and the dim hint of color came to his cheeks again. "Yeah. Blumfump taught me officially, actually, and I did campaigns with Pidge and Hunk mostly, but that's how I met Plaxum and Swirn and them in the first place." After a quiet second, he added, "I actually saw you, Shiro, and Matt at the Post playing a few years ago...Pidge caught me staring and that's how I met her. Then Blumfump eavesdropped and started forcing all the information about the game on me. Fun times."

"We haven't played at the Post in ages." Keith nodded, remembering back when they used the store-provided resources before they had all the books of their own. Coran had aided their collection, for sure, in the end. "You should DM next week." He said decidedly.

" What ?" An uncharacteristic squeak came to Lance's voice as he glanced fast at Keith's serious expression. "It's your turn, man."

"No. I don't actually have anything ready. Shiro just volunteered me because he knew I can throw things together last minute. You're really good at weaving stuff together, though, and I know you help Allura all the time, even when she isn't realizing it. You DM. We can still do it at my house." Keith explained, crossing his arms a little tighter when he realized the dampness of his palms.

"You don't have to sacrifice your DM moment just because you know I've done it before." The reluctant boy huffed, swinging his leg onto the bike at last, "You might never get a chance again. You know Shiro and Allura keep plots lined up months in advance. Allura would have started another tonight if Pidge hadn't been so salty about her new Dwarven pot."

Keith slid into the space on the bike in front of him, passing a spare helmet Hunk must have left on the handlebars to Lance as he pulled on his own. "I'm not sacrificing anything." He rolled his eyes, unable to fathom the concept of it being such a loss. Almost hesitantly, he added, "We can...do it together, if you want."

"Co-DM?" Lance scoffed but paused as soon as the sound had left him. "Well. Okay."

"Really?" Keith twisted in his seat just as Lance wrapped his arms around him, causing a proximity unprecedented by the physical contact. Realizing the intimacy as soon as it occurred, Lance flinched, but stubbornly did not move his hands from Keith's front. This close, and so focused on the other boy, Keith could clearly see all the color rushing to Lance's cheeks in a rosy bloom. "We can—" He swallowed, realizing his voice was thick and Lance was too close, "We can plan at my house sometime this week if you want."

"You have to let me know when you're not stuck in Emo City." Lance said, slow and quiet. The jab at Keith's job was lost as Keith gave a slight nod and turned again. His hand hovered over both of Lance's on his midsection before he seemed to right himself, feeling the bike rumble to life underneath them and blazing forward to take their new dungeon master home.