#but boy howdie is this another area where i expect even a victory to leave me to die

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

.

[thetolkiengeek]

we could turn the world to gold - a Klance Road Trip AU

we could turn the world to gold by thetolkiengeek

Chapters: 4/8

Words: 18,568

Summary: 

At twenty-four, Lance isn't where he'd expected to be, working some mindless job at a decent company, bored out of his mind and trying not to feel like the tedium was slowly choking him to death. So when he gets the opportunity to transfer to a position all the way out in California, he jumps at the chance. With all his life packed in his car, he's ready to leave.

But then, Shiro calls in a favor, and suddenly he's got an unexpected guest on his grand, solo, cross-country road trip. He and Keith could barely stand to be in the same room together in college, and he doubts that three years apart will have made a huge difference. But being stuck in a car for days on end with his ex-rival leads to some unexpected discoveries, on both sides.

---

Or, the Road Trip AU that no one asked for.

Snippet:

Lance had been hoping that maybe, just maybe, the fact that they agreed on something was a sign that he and Keith were going to get along just fine, that his fears that the next several days were going to be tortuous and horribly awkward and full of meaningless arguments, were unfounded.

Boy howdy was he wrong.

They were barely out of the state, and they’d managed to fight about pretty much everything .

Where to stop for gas, where to pee (“ Those require two completely different venues, Keith! ”), which drive-thru to hit, appropriate road trip snacks, whether or not Lance should actually be in the left lane.

“Dude, I’m telling you, stop at Love’s,” Keith said, gesturing at the blue highway sign advertising the gas station.

“And I’m telling you, not gonna happen. There’s no way in hell I’m going to a place called Love’s. It’s probably covered in Hepatitis.”

“You’re impossible,” Keith groaned, crossing his arms and sitting huffily back in the seat.

“I think you mean impassable,” Lance replied.

“If you keep camping your slow ass in the left lane where no one can pass you, then yes.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s a reference to Alice in Wonderland , you philistine, and I’ll have you know I am driving well above the speed limit here.”

“Five miles is not ‘well above’ and everyone on this road, including me, hates you.”

“You say that like I care,” Lance scoffed, though he flicked on his blinker and slid into the middle lane.

To be perfectly honest, Keith’s words cut deeper than he was letting on. It was no secret that they didn’t get along, and the first couple hours of this trip alone spoke to the fact that three years apart really hadn’t changed much between them. But Lance never thought that they hated each other, not really.

Keith probably didn’t mean it beyond commenting on Lance’s driving, but it didn’t stop Lance from dwelling.

He sighed and signalled, veering off onto the exit.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked as Lance followed the signs.

“Going to Love’s,” Lance said. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

Keith snorted. “You’re so magnanimous.”

Lance decided not to dignify that with a response, instead pulling onto the sparse stretch of road with the only true landmark being this miraculous gas station that supposedly was good for snacks and had consistently clean bathrooms.

“There’s nothing else here,” Lance murmured as he pulled up to the pump.

“Hmm?” Keith unclicked his seatbelt.

“The road is empty,” Lance said. “Usually there’s like...five billion fast food places, and it all looks the same no matter where in the country you are. You know, American Gothic. This is just plain cursed.”

“You think everything is cursed,” Keith huffed. “I’m going inside for snacks. You want anything?”

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but Keith held up a hand.

“Do not say sour cream and onion because that’s not going to happen.”

“You’re no fun,” Lance pouted as he cut the engine and popped the gas cap. “At least get me an Arizona Iced Tea?”

Keith rolled his eyes and nodded before shoving out of the car.

Lance opened the door and climbed out into the late August heat, relishing the opportunity to stretch his limbs. They’d only been driving a few hours at that point, but he figured they shouldn’t push it this early in the trip. California was a long way away, after all.

He watched as Keith stomped towards the store in his red combat boots. How he stood to wear those in this heat was beyond Lance--though he really couldn’t remember a time when Keith wasn’t wearing those monstrosities. He wouldn’t be surprised if he slept in them.

Lance shifted his gaze towards the numbers on the pump, wondering how much gas would be in California, if he’d actually be able to afford it.

It hadn’t been easy, deciding to leave basically everything he’d ever known. Though his family was originally from Cuba, they’d moved to Florida when he was young, and then when he was twelve his dad had gotten a job in Atlanta, and he’d lived there ever since. He had even stayed in state for school, where he’d met Shiro, Keith, Pidge, and Hunk.

After graduating, he’d gotten a job at a tech company in the city, and he’d decided to pull a true millennial move and stay with his parents. It had seemed like the right thing at the time--he could stick around to see his younger sister graduate, keep in touch with Pidge and Hunk, who had both gotten research positions at one of the big universities in the area, and even occasionally go visit Shiro in one of the nearby suburbs.

For a while, it was fine. Great, even. But an itch had settled under his skin and the air had felt too thick, and what once had been comforting quickly became stifling. He loved his family, he really did, and he’d do anything for them, just…

The pump clicked and startled Lance out of his reverie. He shook his head, clearing away the weight of his thoughts. He’d made his decision--he was moving to California and starting at the San Francisco office in a better position. That was all that mattered.

He twisted the gas cap back on and clicked the cover shut, locking the car doors before heading into the station.

Whatever he was expecting from a gas station called Love’s, this wasn’t it. It was a large building, clean, bright cheery signs indicating that the showers in the back were vacant.

Color Lance impressed.

Not that he’d ever tell Keith that.

Lance peered around and caught a glimpse of the telltale mop of messy hair in the curved security mirror hanging in the corner. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, leaving him in the chip aisle and heading towards the bathroom.

And okay, Keith was right. Those were clean, too.

He walked out to see Keith with an armful of snacks stomping his way to the counter--because Keith always stomped everywhere, as long as Lance had known him, seemingly incapable of walking normally.

He snuck up behind him, a wicked grin pulling at his mouth, and poked him in the side. Keith jumped, squirming away.

“What the hell, Lance?!”

Lance doubled over, laughing even as Keith hit him with a glare that should have vaporized him on the spot.

Keith slid a giant green can of iced tea and a bag of chips to his side of the counter. “If you’re gonna be an asshole, you can pay for your own snacks.”

Lance pulled himself together enough, wiping at his eyes for comedic effect before looking down and gasping at the familiar green bag of Lays. “Keith, you do care!”

Keith hit him with an unimpressed look as he handed the cashier a five dollar bill.

“Can you not be a drama queen for like...five minutes? That’d be nice.”

“Can you not be a stick in the mud for like...five minutes? That’d be nice.” Lance quipped, pulling out his own wallet and handing a wad of singles to the very tired cashier.

Lance counted it as a victory that Keith didn’t respond, just frowned before grabbing their snacks and pushing out the door.

Lance shrugged and followed, unlocking the car and climbing in, starting the engine and getting the air going again.

Keith was quiet as Lance pulled out of the station and made his way back to the highway, and the only sounds in the car were the crinkle of the chip bag and Queen’s “I Want It All” playing at half volume.

“So,” Lance said, turning down the music when he had successfully found himself in the flow of traffic once more. “As much as I love road trip snacks, I’m getting hungry for, like, real food. You wanna stop at--wait.”

Lance did a double take as safely as he could.

“Are you eating...pickle flavored chips?”

Keith shrugged and popped another one in his mouth. “Yeah.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Hang on, you gave me shit for sour cream and onion, which is a completely acceptable chip flavor, I might add, and you’re eating dill pickle-flavored chips ?!”

“Yup,” Keith said, continuing like there was absolutely nothing strange about pickle-flavored chips. “Now what were you saying about real food? Because I could really go for a sandwich right about now.”

“I--” Lance shook his head. “We’re coming back to this, mark my words--jesus are you licking the inside of the bag?! Keith what the actual fuck ?!”

Keith looked up from where he had torn open the bag along the side and shrugged.

“Okay, you know what, forget I asked. I don’t want to know.” Lance refocused on the road in front of him, shifting his hands on the wheel. “But yeah, I don’t really want to stop stop, but if we’re gonna get to Louisiana by dinner, I’m gonna need milkshakes and fries. So, Mr. I-Have-a-Wrong-Opinion-on-Everything, you got a preference for where we go?”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. I-Hate-All-Good-Music,” Keith said.

“Hey hey hey, we both like Queen, so you can just step off.”

Keith snorted, ducking his head, but then he fell oddly quiet, the only sound being his fingernail tapping on the door and the occasional whisper of Freddie Mercury hitting some insane high note.

“Keith?”

Lance glanced over to see Keith biting his lip.

“Okay, so feel free to revoke my gay card or shame me all the way to New Mexico but...I just really want Chick-fil-A.”

“Oh thank god, me too,” Lance said, giving a half-nervous, half-relieved laugh.

“Why the fuck does it taste so good?!”

“Those waffle fries?”

“With the Polynesian sauce?”

Lance very nearly crashed the car he was laughing so hard.

“We’re horrible people,” Keith said. “We’re bad gays.”

“We’re going to the Bad Place, for sure,” Lance said even as he scanned the highway markers for the Chick-fil-A logo.

“You wanna borrow my rainbow bracelet to wear when you’re paying?”

“Hell yeah.”

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