#alternatively: sugar saddy shiro 2.0

[phaltu]

How about Doctor/hospital/vet AU? Whether you do this prompt or not - you are amazing and talented and beautiful and none of us deserve you! Thank you for doing this prompt-a-thon!

prompt-a-thon, day 1 out of 7

Ahhh thank you so much sweetheart!! I’ve never had as much fun in a fandom as I have in this one ;_; I’d like to thank everyone for sending such lovely prompts AND so many kind words in as well! I really do appreciate it and appreciate every single one of you so much, this fandom has been a bottomless well of support and love!! My apologies if I couldn’t get to your request but know that if I could, I’d do each and every one of them!!

without further ado here’s a Doctor AU!!! ….kinda…

900 words, rated T or S for stupid, read the rest of the prompts here

Keith doesn’t believe in divine intervention, not to the degree that others do. Not normally anyways. Divine intervention might have prevented him from ending up at Denny’s at 3 A.M with Lance as they try to stuff hashbrowns into their face. They’ve sobered up from a shitty house party, and Keith’s never been this hungry in his life.

He chugs down some of his orange juice while Lance says something about having forgotten his mickey of Cuervo at the house party, and the door rings as two new patrons step in. One of them flies right over Keith’s head; he’s lanky and tall with sandy hair and what looks like an ever-present smirk. The other one is proof that maybe divine intervention is what brought Keith to this diner to begin with.

He’s tall and big. The first two are generally all that one needs to get onto Keith’s radar, but his face looks like God spent a little extra time on him. Keith’s never seen kinder eyes nor a sturdier jaw, and he doesn’t know what to do with either piece of information. The tequila might still be in his system but Keith knows that even sober, he’d be going googly-eyed over this white-haired man that’s asking for a table for two in a low, luxurious voice.

“Keith?” Lance waves a hand in front of his face. “Hello?”

Keith nods and Lance narrows his eyes, looking over his shoulders.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he says, turning back to Keith and looking pointedly unimpressed. “Are you still drunk?”

“What?” Keith says absent-mindedly, watching the man. He’s wearing dark grey scrubs, matching the shorter man, and has a small logo on his side that matches the local university hospital. He watches as the two take a seat three tables down from Keith. The waitress takes their order, and Keith ignores Lance’s indignation in favour of hearing the man’s low rich voice ask her for a Santa Fe skillet.

“What about your diet, Dr.Shirogane?” The other man says, and Keith thinks he’s ready to ascend. He’s hot and a doctor. Dr.Shirogane chuckles, and Keith goes a little cross-eyed.

“Hey ugly,” Lance snaps his fingers in front of Keith’s face. “I’m talking to you.”

“Don’t care,” Keith deigns to give Lance one flat look, sticking his tongue out at him. Lance gives him the middle finger, and Keith ignores him, looking back to the current object of his still-slightly-tipsy desire.

And the man looks up while Keith sticks another hash brown into his mouth, and catches him staring. Keith’s eyes widen, and he sees the corner of the man’s mouth tick upwards.  Two things happen.

First, the man winks. Keith’s never had a man this hot wink at him before which leads to the second thing. The hashbrown Keith swallowed has decided to go down the wrong way, probably too overwhelmed by the wink.

Keith starts making a choking sound, and gestures wildly towards Lance. Lance looks unaffected.

“If you’re making noise then you’re fine,” He says, and for a good measure, adds a “Bitchass.”

Keith gives him the middle finger, but the act of it makes the hashbrown lodge itself even weirder down his throat. Keith goes silent and he grasps his throat, and Lance finally realizes that something is in fact going wrong.

“Fuck,” Lance says, eyes widening. “Fuck oh fuck oh fuck dude, what the fuck?”

Keith flails, and out of the corner of his eye he sees a large figure darting towards their table. He thinks it’s perhaps the grim reaper, eager to pull Keith into an early end, but said large figure yanks Keith up and thwacks his back five times, hard. Keith would be into it, if he wasn’t dying. Well-muscled arms wrap around him and clasp into a fist over his abdominals, and Keith feels the hands pound into his gut.

He chokes again, and on the third thrust, the hash brown spills out of his mouth, tumbling onto the ground like the pathetic piece of shit potato it is. He coughs, and it takes him a second to register that he’s on his tip toes before the large figure lets him down and turns him around. Keith finds himself getting pushed back until he’s sitting on the counter top of their table and is face-to-face with the unreasonably hot doctor from before.

“Holy shit,” Keith breathes, and he feels a large hand placed on top of his shoulder. He looks up, and notes that Hot Doctor’s face up close is significantly hotter than it was from a distance. “I almost died.”

“Not quite,” the man smiles kindly, and Keith can see his dinner companion try to get a glimpse of Keith over the man’s shoulders.  The man elbow him out of the way, and his friend makes a noise of protest.

“He choked because you’re hot,” Lance supplies helpfully from where he’s still seated and munching on his peameal bacon. “Just to let you know.”

“Maybe it’s better if I did die,” Keith grimaces, and the man goes a little pink around his ears. “Give me another one, let it finish the job.”

“Hey now,” the man’s hand is still on his shoulder, Keith realises. “Maybe you should try eating something that goes down a little better.”

“Yeah?” Keith asks, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. He’s going to kill Lance barehanded when they get back to their dorm. “Like what?”

“Why don’t I take you out to dinner and show you?” the man asks, his friend snorts, Lance makes an ooooh noise,  and Keith decides that just this once, revenge can wait another day.