#fic: picasso and street lamps

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps, Pt. 10: Oh, Boy, Your Eyes Betray What Burns Inside You

It’s been a while, huh? Sorry about that. But I’m back, and since it’s July (aka THE MONTH OF MY SON’S BIRTHDAY), every Monday I’ll be posting a segment of PaSL featuring Lance!

This segment is set about a month and a half after “We’ll Paint the Moon,” and the title is from Woodkid’s “I Love You.” It’s a really good Klance song, I recommend it heavily.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF-HATRED AND DEPRESSION.

Archive of Our Own | Rest of the series

Lance was usually so full of life and bravado that realizing he genuinely thought he was useless hurt Keith.

There had been signs for months, moments when the smile seemed forced and the swagger weak, but any fears were easily placated by quick kisses and murmurs of affection. It wasn’t until he and Lance had moved in together that Keith saw the true extent of his boyfriend’s self-loathing.

“Lance? Class got cut short, the professor has food poisoning,” he says as he opens the door to their apartment.

There’s no response, which scares Keith- Lance is never this quiet. “Lance? You home?” He drops his backpack by the fridge and checks the couch- nothing. Not even the remote has moved since them watching Cutthroat Kitchen last night. Eventually, he notices the door to their room is slightly ajar. “Lance?”

What he finds behind the door nearly breaks Keith’s heart. It’s his boyfriend, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, hair disheveled and eyes saggy. The lights are off, the curtains are drawn, and he’s staring at the ceiling, face morose. Tears stain his cheeks and the pillow. “Lance? Have… have you gotten out of bed at all today?”

“What’s the point?” comes the monotone reply. “Bet you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t come home early.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith says, sitting next to him and patting his knee.

Lance huffs and rolls onto his side, facing away from Keith. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

“It absolutely does matter. Come on, talk to me.”

Lance sits up abruptly, looking Keith dead in the eye with a pained expression. “I honestly don’t know why you’re keeping up this act. You don’t care about me, nobody does, and even if people did it wouldn’t matter because I’m so fucking USELESS!” he cries, breaking into heaving sobs. His knuckles practically glow white against his skin. “I’m nothing.”

Keith stares at him, mouth slightly open, before roughly grabbing Lance’s face. “Where in the HELL did you get that idea? Lance, you are one of the most spectacular human beings on this planet and I thought you knew that!”

“Yeah, well, news flash, I know I’m not God’s gift to humanity, if anything, I’m its curse!” Lance shouts back, leaning his head against Keith’s chest. They both pant.

Keith, surprisingly, is the first to calm down. “Alright, listen to me. You’re gonna tell me everything you think makes you so awful, and I’m gonna tell you why that’s complete and utter bullshit. Got it?” It comes out more forcefully than he likes, but Lance nods, rolling onto his back and laying his head in Keith’s lap. “OK, start.”

“I… I’m not smart,” Lance says, eyes cast downward.

Keith scoffs. “You’re in one of the most advanced programs in one of the most prestigious schools in the country. Next.”

“I’m ugly.”

“Try one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever laid my eyes on, including right now while you’re in stinky clothes and sweaty.” He combs his fingers in Lance’s hair, twisting it between his thumb and pointer finger. “And when you go out wearing makeup or a skirt or even just that one hoodie you love so much, with all that confidence… you know how hard it is for me to look away?”

“I miss home” is the next complaint.

“Not really a thing about you, but we can go to your parents’ for dinner on Saturday, if you want,” Keith offers.

“No, I mean home-home,” Lance says, lip wobbling. “Cuba. I miss the beach, I miss the food- you know how hard it is to find good tostones around here? And I know I haven’t lived there since I was ten but… but it’s still home, you know?”

Keith sighs, refusing to meet Lance’s gaze. “I… I can’t do much about that… I’m sorry. Anything else?”

Lance nods weakly. “I don’t… have a thing. Like, all of our friends have something that they’re really, really good at. Shiro is an amazing cop and has never failed a case- well, except us, but we’re the exception. Pidge is a certified genius, I mean she hacked her way into NASA when she was twelve! Hunk can fix literally anything electronic, not to mention he’s even better than Mami at cooking- don’t tell her I said that,” he hastily adds, and Keith can’t help but grin. “Coran’s not really a friend, but he knows so much about history that it’s honestly impressive? Allura is a top surgeon at 28, how the hell? And you… God, Keith. You’re a phenomenal artist, and you’re clever, and you can kick literally anybody’s ass if you wanted to. You’re the badass that I wish I could be.

“And what do I have? Nothing! I’m just a boring astronomy major who can’t keep a relationship for more than a year and a half whose only claim to fame is being on the high school volleyball team and being a fucking vandal!”

Keith looks at the boy in his lap, weeping, honestly believing himself to be worthless. “Lance Fuentes, listen to me. You have so many talents, it’s astounding. You went from being an OK student in high school to top of your class in college. You can wear literally anything, clothes, makeup, whatever- and look drop-dead gorgeous. When you played volleyball, you were the top spiker in the region, if I remember correctly.” They’re both crying at this point. “You never fail to make a room light up with your jokes and even if it fails, you really a pro flirt. And most importantly, you’re the reason that our group is the way it is. You’ve known Hunk since childhood, you’ve managed to convince Shiro to not arrest you, you knew Allura and Coran before we started dating, we had that rivalry thing in high school, and Pidge is like a sister to you.” Keith smiles wide enough for his cheeks to hurt, leaning down to capture Lance’s lips with his. “And you wanna know the most impressive thing you’ve ever done?”

“What’s that?” Lance asks softly.

Their lips press together again briefly, and Keith pulls the tiniest bit away to whisper “you made me fall in love for the first time.”

Next week: You decide! Do you want klance fluff or Lance hanging out with Shay and Allura? Let me know in the tags/replies! (The other option will be posted the week after, don’t worry.)

[yongjae37]

“It’s Leo,” he observes, “constellation of the lion. And it’s absolutely gorgeous, babe- even if it wasn’t on me,” he adds with a wink. Keith flushes and Lance sniggers. “Mind telling me what the assignment is now?”

Keith takes in a shuddering breath, and Lance notes how his shoulders hitch and eyes shut in anxiousness. “It’s… it’s like with my sprays, I went a bit… meta. I painted the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, but I also…” Another deep breath; Lance squeezes Keith’s palm. “ Literally painted the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“Picasso and Street Lamps”, Chapter 7, by N00dl3gal My piece for the Art Fic Swap with @n00dl3gal​

Go over here to check out the cute fluffy fic she wrote me !! https://n00dl3gal.tumblr.com/post/163057300862/klance-i-forget-myself-i-want-you-to-remind-me

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps, Part 11: Self-Care is Giving Your BF Pigtails

One person (@plumeriafairy14) commented on what they wanted, and they wanted Shay-Allura-Lance bonding, but I was so busy last week, I didn't have a chance to finish it. I'll try to have it done for next week, though. This takes place after "Be My Canvas" (aka chapter 7).

This chapter is loosely inspired by this piece of fanart by @calilee.

Also: @7imothysucks and I are working on another Klance AU! You can check out the details here.

Archive of Our Own | Rest of the series

“I dunno, Lance,” Keith says nervously, looking over the tubes and jars on the coffee table. He gnaws at his lower lip. He feels exposed- his bangs are pushed back with hair clips, a few stray strands wisping around his ears. “This seems a bit… excessive.”

Lance exhales softly, rolling his eyes but never losing his fond gaze. “You used me as a canvas, now I use you as mine.”

“But-”

“Keith,” Lance interrupts, voice firm. He grabs his boyfriend’s shoulder and squeezes. “I’ll talk you through each step, and if you’re uncomfortable with any of it, tell me and I’ll stop. I promise you, you’re in charge.”

There was no way Keith would ever say no to that face of pure affection. “Alright. I trust you. What’s first?”

The grin Lance gives him is worth anything that might come out of his mouth. “Facials!” Lance answers, grabbing a tub with a green lid. “Sit down on the couch, put the towel on your lap.”

OK, Keith thinks, I can do this. It’s the same stuff he uses on the weekends. Nothing huge. He follows Lance’s instructions and the other boy sits across from him. “Close your eyes, babe. It might tickle, it’s a little cold.”

The first glob on his skin makes Keith shiver. He’s about to complain but then he feels Lance’s fingers rubbing circles along his cheekbones and he lowers his haunches. Lance is gentle but deliberate, humming to himself as he works. Keith’s flesh tingles both from the cream and Lance’s touch. It’s careful and calming and maybe he could get used to it.

“You already look more at ease. You need to relax more, babe.”

Keith shrugs. “If you’re the one teaching me, maybe I will.” There’s a pressure on the tip of his nose, and Keith recognizes the heat and smoothness as Lance’s lips. A small laugh bubbles up.

“God, you’re so cute. Gonna be even cuter when I’m done with you,” Lance says gleefully, continuing to apply the facial. “Aaand… there. OK, it has to sit for half an hour before we can rinse it off.”

Keith can feel his blush beneath the cream. “So what do we do until then?”

Lance smiles and something about makes Keith gulp. “I’m gonna do your hair!”

The other boy’s eyes snap wide. “Oh no no no,” he says quickly, crawling backwards on the couch. “You are NOT messing with my hair.”

“Aww, c’mon! Why not?”

“You’re just gonna cut it all off cuz you hate it!” Keith yells.

Lance blinks and frowns. “Wh-why would I cut it? I mean, I could if you really want me to but… babe, I love you hair!” he explains, voice cracking.

Keith pauses and cocks his head. “Then why do you always tease me about it?”

“I, I, um…” Lance stutters, face blossoming in red. “I… oh man, it’s embarrassing… I’m jealous, alright?” he confesses.

If anything, Keith looks even more confused. “Jealous?”

Lance rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I… I had longer hair, kinda like yours, in middle school. But I couldn’t pull it off. You do,” he whispers. Keith wonders idly if the heat from his cheeks will ruin the facial. “So, if you want me to cut your hair, I could but I’m not trained and I think you look great just the way you are.” He huffs and blows his bangs out of his eyes. “Nowadays I just have to settle for colored tips.”

Keith nods. “If it helps any, I like them. The blue matches your eyes.” Lance’s smile is contagious and any remaining tension evaporates… until Keith remembers his question. “Then… then what’re you gonna do? To my hair, I mean.”

“I was planning on brushing it out, styling it a little. Use some clips and maybe some product.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s OK.”

Lance brightens further, nose crinkling. “Yay! Alright, turn around,” he instructs. Keith grins a little more at his boyfriend’s enthusiasm before obeying.

Keith’s hair is soft, much softer than it outwardly looked. Maybe a touch greasy, but nothing a few uses of conditioner couldn’t fix. Lance makes a mental note to buy a bottle for Keith. He combs through the handful of tangles and then tackles the smaller, more stubborn knots. He massages them gently with his fingers and his toes curl at the pleased noise Keith makes.

Actually, everything Keith is doing makes Lance’s toes curl. The black-haired boy has let his shoulders slump, posture curve, defenses down. He sits with his knees propped up, arms tucked underneath his legs. It’s the most at ease Lance has ever seen him, and it unleashes a herd of gymnasts in his stomach.

Once the hair is brushed and smooth, Lance begins to separate it into two bunches. In doing so, he uncovers something on the back of Keith’s neck. He sniggers.

“What’s so funny?” Keith asks.

“You never told me you had another tattoo,” Lance says, touching the skin gently. He knows about the ink reading “The Truth Is Out There” on his boyfriend’s ankle, but this green, stereotypical alien face was a secret. Until now.

Keith shrugs, exhaling sharply when Lance kisses the tattoo. “Oh yeah, it must’ve gotten hidden under my hair… it used to be a lot shorter.”

“How short we talking?”

Lance can’t see Keith’s toothy smirk, but he knows it’s present. “Let’s just say Shiro wasn’t the only one with an undercut.”

“Babe, you better have pictures of that… holy cheese.”

This was originally going to be longer, or in two parts, but the second half (where Lance does Keith's makeup) never got written. It would always end up with Keith's dysphoria being triggered and an unsatisfying conclusion. I hope this is enough.

Next week: Shay and Allura gossip, and Lance just wants to show off his legs.

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps, Part 7: Be My Canvas

Y'ALL WANT FLUFF? Y'ALL GOT FLUFF. HAPPY INTERNATIONAL HAPPINESS DAY.

This takes place about 9 months after BAW, and at this point, Keith is enrolled at the Altea Institute again (studying art).

Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9524369/chapters/22942020

EDIT: THERE IS NOW BEAUTIFUL ART, GO LOOK AT IT

“Are you ever gonna tell me what the actual assignment is?” Lance asks, spreading newspaper across the floor of the kitchen. He places a towel on top and rolls his shoulders.

Keith makes a “mmm” noise, mixing the proper shades of paint he needs. “I will afterwards, I promise. It’s more your reaction to the assignment than anything…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “But it’s nothing awful or degrading, I swear.”

Lance nods, sitting down cross legged on the towel. “And you swear it’s not just an excuse to see me without my shirt on?” His eyebrows wiggle up and down and Keith chokes back a snort.

“It is a nice bonus, I’ll admit that,” Keith says. He places the paints next to him. “Roll onto your back, please?”

Lance obeys, smirk growing. “Ooooh, going in from behind, are we?”

“Lance, I swear to God-”

“I’m kidding!” Lance laughs, and he twists his head to look up at his boyfriend chuckling alongside him. “I trust you, babe. Mind if I put on some music or watch a video?” Keith tells him it’s OK and pulls out his phone. “OK. Ready whenever you are.”

The sensation of paint- body paint, Keith was sure to clarify- swirling across one’s body is cold and hardly soothing, but something about it makes Lance feel at ease. Maybe it’s the intimacy and trust that came with the activity. Maybe it is lack of sleep on Lance’s part. He also thinks the heat that constantly radiates from Keith’s body has something to do with it. The boy is as warm (and as hot) as a summer day on Veradero Beach.

Lance notes how Keith starts to hum along to his music, even though he’s fairly sure Keith isn’t a huge fan of Enrique Iglesias. Admittedly, Lance isn’t that much of one either, but he’s too lazy to press skip. He’s too lazy to do much of anything. Not when Keith is so close, breath heated and careful across his neck. All he can do… is keep his eyes… open…

“Lance? Hun? I’m finished.”

If hearing Keith calling him wasn’t enough to stir Lance from slumber, hearing him use a pet name- a rare occurrence that never failed to make his spine tingle- certainly does. “Hmm… can I see?”

“The paint’s still wet, but I took a picture,” Keith says, lying down on his back, perpendicular to Lance. “Here.” The artist hands his boyfriend his phone and Lance smiles.

The image on the tiny screen is of a night sky, larger stars lining up in a pattern that Lance easily recognizes- but what really draws him in are the little details scattered across his body. The distant cosmos on twin shoulders. The small of his back transformed into a ringed planet. Purples, blues, and reds align in harmony, creating gradients and galaxies. Smaller specks of stars on what must be every single freckle on Lance’s back.

“It’s Leo,” he observes, “constellation of the lion. And it’s absolutely gorgeous, babe- even if it wasn’t on me,” he adds with a wink. Keith flushes and Lance sniggers. “Mind telling me what the assignment is now?”

To his surprise, Keith only turns a brighter red. “It’s… God, I can’t believe I did this… the assignment was to paint the most beautiful thing we’d ever seen,” he mumbles.

Lance nods and grabs Keith’s hand. “Still seems like there’s more… I mean you could paint space on any old canvas and have it be a masterpiece.”

Keith takes in a shuddering breath, and Lance notes how his shoulders hitch and eyes shut in anxiousness. “It’s… it’s like with my sprays, I went a bit… meta. I painted the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, but I also…” Another deep breath; Lance squeezes Keith’s palm. “Literally painted the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

It takes a moment for Lance to fully process it: OK, so Leo is beautiful to him, but literally? He literally painted- “me.”

Keith’s eyes are clamped shut. “Y-yeah.”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to blush, biting down on his free fist to prevent from happy-crying and squealing at how adorable it all is. “B-babe… you can’t j-just… holy crow…”

Keith doesn’t answer, so Lance slips out of his grasp and guides their faces towards one another. “Hey, hey, it’s OK. Don’t be nervous,” he says, cupping the side of Keith’s jaw. “It’s… it’s fantastic. The colors, the details, the medium… and you wanna know a secret?” Their noses brush, and he can feel Keith’s smile on his skin. “I’m looking at the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen right now.”

The kiss is gentle, sweet, languid, lasting. They ebb and flow into one another, each kiss punctuated with a laugh. And while Lance isn’t 100% positive that Keith knows what Lance tried to say, he’s not going to push it. They have plenty of time for that truth to come out.

There will be other chances for Lance to tell Keith how much he loves him.

Next week: Allura is quick. Shiro makes a few confessions.

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps, Part 6: The One Downside.

Keith comes clean, Lance tries his hardest, and Shiro needs a break.

A continuation to the last chapter.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR DYSPHORIA!

Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9524369/chapters/22759562

 Don’t get him wrong, going on T is probably the smartest decision Keith ever made.

 If he could get his body to be more like how he pictured himself in his head, he would. It’s a positive he would bear any negative for, and fortunately there aren’t that many.  

 But while the injections are annoying and a little painful, the other downside is a complete and utter BITCH.

 It’s the days when the binder suffocates him, when he wants to take a weed wacker to his longer hair, and the words “dude” and “sir” are answered with a forced smile.

 Dysphoria.

 Shiro, bless his heart, knows the tell-tale signs- Keith struggling to get out of bed, arms wrapped around his chest, baggy sweatshirts and pajama pants- and offers to call him in sick. Keith nods, too weary and anxious to argue. He’s about to go back to sleep when he shoots up, eyes the size of donuts.

 “Lance is coming over tonight!”

 Shiro hums in thought. “Does he know about you?”

 “No… not yet,” Keith admits. He wants to tell his boyfriend, but… Lance is accepting, even if his past lovers weren’t.

 “Maybe today you should,” Shiro says, shutting the door, leaving Keith alone with painful thoughts.

 …

 “Babe? Shiro let me in, where are you?” Lance yells from the opposite end of the apartment.

 Keith groans, stirring from his slumber. “Bedroom.”

 “Oh-ho, gettin’ cheeky are w- Keith? You OK?” The tone in Lance’s voice abruptly shifts when he sees Keith. “Are you sick? Why didn’t you tell me? I could come back some other time-”

 “No, stay,” Keith says, reaching out for Lance weakly. “I-I need to talk to you.”

 Lance sits up on the bed, grabbing Keith’s outstretched palm and squeezing it. “What’s up?”

 Keith plays with the blanket in his spare hand, not meeting Lance’s gaze. “I… today, my d-dysphoria is really bad…” Something hot and wet drips onto the cotton. Shit, he was crying.

 “Dysphoria… wait. Keith, are you trans?” Keith tries to answer, but his voice comes out as nothing but a croak. Instead, he nods, sobbing and rocking as Lance pulls him against his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” the Cuban boy whispers.

 Keith buries his head under the curve of Lance’s neck. “Wasn’t sure how you’d r-react… my past boyfriends, they-they got-”

 Lance makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “And you think I’ll dump you over that? C’mon, man, gimme more credit,” he says, pressing a kiss to Keith’s hair. “Babe, you’re a boy. Doesn’t matter what parts you have. ‘Sides, I’m pan, this is win-win.”

 “Not helping, Lance.”

 The taller boy blushes, mumbling an apology. “Point is, I’m not gonna break up with you just because you’re trans. Alright?”

 For the first time all day, Keith smiles. “Than you… you mind staying with me for a bit longer?”

 “Not a problem,” Lance answers, kissing his boyfriend’s lips.

 Dysphoria would always be a problem, and Keith knows this. But being in Lance’s arms… maybe it would be less of one in the future.

For what it’s worth, Lance isn’t trying to insult Keith- because he is pan, he’s cool with his partners having any type of genitalia. He just phrases it wrong.

Next week: I’ve tortured you all long enough, so back to our usual klance fluff.

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps, Part 8: Check, Please

Shiro and Allura go on a date.

It might have gone better if Shiro would shut up about his brother.

(it sounds like the date goes badly but it doesn’t)

Anyway, this chapter actually takes place during BAW! It’s when Shiro arrives late from his date to find Keith on their couch. We pick up before hand, while the date is still going…

One more thing of note: in this AU, Shiro and Allura meet through Keith: she is his doctor helping him through his transition. Shiro, meanwhile, is a police officer.

Archive of Our Own | Rest of the fic

Allura, as it turns out, has quick reflexes- arguably quicker than Shiro’s. She snatches the bill from the waiter before he can even protest. A credit card somehow appears between her fingers. “You’ll need to be faster than that,” she teases.

Shiro laughs, trying to grab the bill from her, but she keeps it just out of reach. “I’m not about to fight with you, but I’m also not one to make a lady foot the bill. At least, not without paying my share.”

“It’s my treat, I insist,” Allura says, “but you could make it up to me with dessert and a ride home.”

“I think I can manage that.”

He takes her to a bakery not far from the coffeeshop Keith works at- in fact, Keith’s fairly sure they supply most of the pastries served there. “I used to get donuts here for Keith when he got a good report card,” he explains as he holds open the door.

“Perpetuating those cop stereotypes, I see,” Allura observes.

The man flushes but chuckles slightly. “Maybe a little.”

“It’s alright, Shiro. You’re a good brother.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I try.”

They sit and chat idly over tiramisu, occasionally falling into a comfortable silence. Allura tells stories about her pet mice and eccentric guardian, while Shiro recalls escapades as a police officer. But in the back of her mind, Allura keeps mulling over Shiro’s reaction to being called a good brother. They’re in Shiro’s car when she finally breaks. “Shiro? Do… do you not think you are a good brother to Keith?”

He doesn’t answer. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. “I-I’m sorry, Shiro, I did not mean to-”

“I… I wasn’t around Keith much while I was at the police academy,” he says suddenly, “and during that time, he was really struggling. Getting bullied, starting his transition, and some other personal stuff. He… he didn’t do so well without me there to help him,” Shiro elaborates, voice quiet. “And I still blame myself for that.”

“Shiro, none of that is your fault,” Allura reassures him, touching his shoulder. He nods weakly. “Is that why you live together? As penance?”

“What? No! I mean… maybe a little? My apartment was closer to his school than our parents’, so… it felt like a way to make up for abandoning him. ‘Course, then he got kicked out for behavioral problems, but.” He sighs and pulls into Allura’s driveway; she hadn’t even realized where they were. “That’s also why I was so hesitant to agree to this date, even though I’m very interested.” He turns and looks at her, cupping her cheek. “I don’t want to betray his trust again. I mean, dating his doctor? That has to breach some code of confidentiality,” Shiro jokes, but there’s no humor in it.

“Shiro. First of all, it’s completely legal, I’m happy to say.” Allura’s lips turn up some, and she places a hand on top of the one he’s holding her with. “Secondly, the fact that you care so much about his happiness, even sacrificing your own… that’s proof enough that you are a fantastic brother.” She leans forward some, enough for their breaths to intermingle. “So let yourself have this- or you may let me down.”

He chuckles, for real, and whispers “well I can’t have that,” and finally captures her lips in a sweet, gentle, overdue kiss.

We’re beginning to unlock Keith’s backstory… hmm.

Next week: Hunk and Lance refuse to believe they’re in relationships.

[n00dl3gal]

You're the person who wrote that spray paint au!!! Someone had told me about the fic but this is the first time I read it! And I love it and the series its a part of!! They said u were taking a break I can't wait to read more of this series omg!!

Thank you so much anon! It means the world to me that you (and your friend, holy crAP MOM MY FIC WAS REC’D) are enjoying the series! I promise more will be out soon- in about a month- so hang on just a little longer! Thank you again!

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps, Part 5: I Wanna Be Keith

A bit of a shorter update today, but it’s spring break for me so… hell if I know.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR DYSPHORIA AND MISGENDERING IN THIS SEGMENT. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9524369/chapters/22549406

Kimmy is easily Shiro’s favorite foster sibling, and he’s betting he’s the same for her.

Out of all the families Kimmy had stayed with, the Shiroganes were the first to take her seriously. They worked with her anger issues, entertained her fascination with aliens and urban legends, showed her what a real family should be like. In turn, Kimmy opened up, revealed her wit and passion. She smiled and laughed and seem genuinely happy.

So when Shiro noticed her closing off again, he was terrified.

“Kimmy? Do you mind if I come in?” Shiro asks, knocking on her door.

There’s a muffled sob and Shiro knows he has to go in. He enters her room and gasps.

It’s dark- the blinds are drawn, the lights are off. There are clothes and books thrown haphazardly across the floor. And on the bed, sniveling and buried in blankets, is Kimmy. As Shiro approaches, he sees that her hair is chopped off at the neck, strands uneven and jagged. “Kimmy, what’s wrong? What did you do?” He reaches out to hold her but she jerks away. “Alright, I won’t touch you. But you have to explain what happened to me,” he says softly, kneeling in front of her bed. She nods, face mostly hidden in the sheets.

“OK, first question- what did you do to your hair?” he starts. Kimmy whimpers and reveals a pair of scissors in her hand. “You cut it?” Another nod. “Hey, hey, that’s OK. I’m not mad. Now, second question- and you don’t have to talk- what’s got you upset?”

With a shaking finger, Kimmy points to a book on the floor. Shiro picks it up. LGBT And You. When he opens the book to the dog-eared page, Shiro reads aloud: “‘gender dysphoria is the sensation a person experiences as a result of the sex and gender they were assigned at birth does not match their gender identity-’” is this the problem, Kimmy?”

At the name, the girl shudders and cries. “K-Keith,” she chokes out.

Shiro grabs her hand and squeezes. “What? ‘Keith?’”

“D-don’t call me ‘Kimmy.’ I-I wanna be Keith. I’m… I… don’t hate me.”

“Oh… you think this will make me hate you?” Shiro whispers, climbing onto the bed and taking the shaking teen in his arms. “You’re gonna need to try a lot harder than that.” He kisses the mop of butchered hair and smiles. “So, Keith, what do you say we calm down and clean up that haircut of yours? I’m not having my brother look like a hobo,” Shiro says.

Keith just cries harder, burrowing further in Shiro’s grasp. “Th-thank you… w-will you h-help me tell mom and d-dad?”

“Of course, Keith. Of course.”

Next week: Keith is coming out (of his cage and he’s… not doing fine).

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps, Part  4: It Always Hurts

BETCHA THOUGHT THIS SERIES WAS GONNA BE ALL SUNSHINE AND KITTENS LOL NOPE

OK but before we get to the good stuff, I want to show off this ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS art I commissioned from 7imothysucks!! It’s the scene from the end of “Banksy-Ass Wannabe” and if anybody else wants to create art based on that or any of my other fics, PLEASE DO!! I will literally die OMG please please PLEASE feel free, and make sure to tag me in it!

This bit takes place shortly after the end of BAW, around 1 to 2 months later.

Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9524369/chapters/22311881

It was inevitable, Lance knew that, especially considering their volatile and contradictory personalities. He also figured it’d be over something stupid.

But yeah, their first real fight hurts.

“All I said was it would be nice if someone was appreciative to my load of homework!” Lance yells, tossing his astrophysics textbook aside.

“Well sor-ry that spending a day serving bratty white girls hasn’t done wonders for my mood,” Keith grumbles. “Why the hell are you over here anyway if you have so much homework… God, for someone as smart as you, you really are a moron.”

Lance snorts. “You’re one to talk,” he says. “Dropout.”

The second the word leaves his mouth, he knows he’s REALLY done it. “Keith, babe, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry-”

Keith’s voice is scarily calm, but his fist trembles by his waist. “So that’s it, huh. You think you’re better than me.” His eyes narrow, maybe quivering with a tear, and Lance has never seen something so terrifying and heartbreaking. “Just because you’re still in college and have a loving family and can wear whatever the FUCK you want- YOU’RE NOT BETTER THAN ME!” he shouts, kicking Lance’s backpack.

“Keith, I swear-” “GET OUT!” Keith screams, pointing at the door.

Lance freezes. “Babe, I-”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Lance. Just get out.”

Choking back sobs and pleas, Lance grabs his things and scurries from the apartment.

When the door slams, Keith falls to his knees.

…

Shiro finds him like that seventy minutes later, crumpled in a crying ball on the floor. “Keith? Keith, are you alright?”

“L-Lance and I h-had a fight,” Keith whimpers, leaning into Shiro.

“Over what?” the older man asks, rubbing his foster brother’s shoulder.

In a jumbled slur, Keith explains everything. How a stressful day at work left him abrasive. Lance’s complaints about homework and how it sizzled into something greater. The dropout comment, Keith blowing up, shouting at Lance to leave. “He didn’t mean it, Shiro,” Keith sobs, “I-I know he didn’t but I didn’t let him e-explain.”

“You probably should,” Shiro says.

“B-but he most likely hates m-me now, God, my o-one good relationship a-and I fuck it up.”

Shiro hugs him a little closer. “You haven’t fucked it up. Not yet, at least. But you will if you don’t apologize.”

As much as Keith dislikes Shiro’s tough love, he knows he’s right. “But how? He’s p-probably gonna avoid me, and I know enough that a ‘sorry’ over text i-isn’t sincere.”

“If only there was a medium that you both used,” Shiro says dryly. He gives Keith a pointed look.

Keith gapes. “Are you- are you encouraging me to be a vandal?”

Shrio runs a hand down his face. “Go before I change my mind.”

…

Keith nearly breaks more laws on his way to commit a crime for the sake of affection- weaving in and out of traffic, speeding, running red lights. He probably would have forgotten to wear his helmet if Shiro hadn’t reminded him.

He pulls into the lot behind the 7-11: the spot where they learned their identities, the place they first kissed. Maybe not a romantic location to most, but Keith knows the message would be clear to Lance.

Perhaps a bit too clear, as Lance is already there, spray can raised. “O-oh. H-hey, Keith.”

“Lance? Why are you-” The words die in Keith’s throat as he realizes what Lance is spraying. The words I’m sorry in baby blue. “Lance…” he sighs, eyes watering. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s my fault.”

“No it isn’t! I’m the one who called you dropout!” Lance says, letting the can roll across the pavement. “I���m so sorry, Keith, I spoke without thinking- wait, why are you here?”

Keith laughs, watery and joyous, saying “I was gonna do what you’re doing, dumbass. God, I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

Lance’s eyes grow in comprehension as Keith speaks, and he’s barely done apologizing when Lance grabs him by the collar and kisses him.

Their lips are salty with tears. Lance eventually slings his arms around Keith’s neck, yanking him closer. Keith does the same with Lance’s hips. There are quiet moans and sobs, and when the break apart for air, Lance cups Keith’s face, brushing tears away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry for calling you ‘dropout,’ babe. I didn’t mean it.”

“And I’m sorry for blowing up and saying that you think you’re better than me,” Keith says quietly. “I know you don’t, I’m just… I’m jealous of you, Lance.”

Cyan eyes widen a fraction. “Wh-what? Why would you be jealous of me?” His gaze casts downward, a blush growing from his nose out. “I’m just a boy from Cuba,” he whispers.

Keith shakes his head, kissing underneath Lance’s eye. “You’re so much more than that. So much more.” Their lips meet again briefly. “C’mon, we should head home. You probably still have homework to do.”

“I… yeah. Do you… do you mind if I come over tomorrow?” Lance says it so meekly that Keith nearly breaks down again. “When you’re done with work, I mean. And I finish my homework.”

Keith smiles and kisses his cheek. “I’d think I’d like that, yeah.”

CAN YOU TELL THAT THE “I’M JUST A BOY FROM CUBA” LINE REALLY FUCKED ME UP

Next week: we head back in time.

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps, Part 3: Red Lion Has Tagged You In a Post

Happy Valentine’s Day.

THIS little segment here was what changed “Banksy-Ass Wannabe” from being a oneshot to a full series (hence all the exposition at the start). And I wouldn’t have done it without the help of Becky (@screwitanddoitanyway), who gave me the idea. Thank you… and also screw you, this AU has taken over my life.

Special thanks to @cubanbisexuallance for her help with names and the Spanish dialogue! Translations will be at the end of the post.

Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9524369/chapters/21897683

It was hard to believe he’d been dating Lance for six years now, but here Keith was.

They’d both graduated- it took some persuasion on Lance’s part, but Keith had finally returned to college and gotten his degree- and they were pretty content. Lance was suffering his way through grad school, Keith had traded in coffee for teaching art at a local studio, they shared an apartment with a busted radiator, and everything was fine.

That’s not to say they didn’t argue, but most of their frustrations towards the other was vented through their graffiti. Yes, they still sprayed- maybe less than when they were in college, but it was a form of relaxation for the both of them, and damn if teasing all their followers with their relationship wasn’t funny. If anything, they played up the rivalry between BluDude and Red Lion more than ever, just to screw with the fans. It made their reactions to the collabs they did all the sweeter.

Keith’s packing up from a shift at the studio- he’s been teaching anatomy for the past month, which is all kinds of awkward. Thank God he wasn’t one of the models, but seeing the naked men pose reminds him of his pathetic bottom surgery fund sitting in his bank account. He’s ready to head back home, curl up with Lance, and relax when his phone buzzes.

It’s Pidge. Not too surprising- turns out she and Keith had a lot in common, and that was before they realized their brothers had once been roommates. What does catch Keith’s attention is the text she sent:  Check Lance’s instagram.

Keith opens up the app, checking Lance’s personal account first. There isn’t anything new; the last post was a selfie he took a few days ago. Keith remembers groaning in the background.

He flips over to the BluDude account and-  oh.

It’s a familiar sight- the back of the 7-11 on Carson Street, where they were supposed to have a showdown and instead ended up making out. And Lance has decided to commemorate the location with a spray, over half a decade later.

It’s incredibly simple by Lance’s standards, just four words in bright blue lettering. But good Lord, do they carry a lot of meaning.

  Will you marry me?

Once he recovers, Keith dashes to the supply closet.

…

Lance paces across the apartment, constantly glancing between the clock, the door, and his phone. Maybe he was too forward. Maybe he’s scared Keith off, he’s not coming back, he’s fucked up this time-

His phone dings and Lance jumps a foot in the air.

The notification is simple:  Red Lion has tagged you in a post. His fingers shake as he opens Instagram.

It’s a photo of his proposal, with one word in red at the bottom:  YES .

As if on cue, the door rattles and Keith opens it, staring at Lance, expression unreadable. They watch each other, barely breathing, until Keith opens his mouth.

“Do you even have a ring?”

Lance puts his hand to his chest, face aghast. “I’ve been planning this for months babe,” he says, fumbling around in his back pocket. “Or, well, I’ve had the ring for months. Wasn’t sure what to do but… this seems right.” He kneels and Keith is already nodding. “Lemme say it out loud first,” he whispers. Keith drops to his knees, hands shaking and smile wide and trembling. “Keith Kwon, apple of my eye, the Aristotle to my Dante, love of my life- will you marry me?”

Keith grabs the hood of his jacket and kisses him, desperate and eager and wet. “Yes, yes, God, of course I will you dickwad, I fucking love you so fucking much-”

“I love you too,” Lance whispers against his fiance’s lips.

Eventually, Lance breaks off the kiss, Keith still chasing his touch. “In a minute, babe,” he laughs, patting his cheek. “I need to call my mom.”

Keith nods, still high off giddiness, and lays with Lance on the couch. As the phone rings, the Cuban man slides the ring on his fiance’s finger. It’s simple- tarnished brass, with a small stone that Keith assumes is a ruby. He’ll probably ask Shay for proper identification, though.

“Mami? It’s Lance- yeah, I did! And he said yes! I- what? She wants to be on speaker,” Lance says, pushing the button. “Wants to congratulate us both.”

“Keith? You there, mijito?” comes the voice down the line.

If Keith wasn’t already grinning, he’d be beaming now. “Yeah, I’m here, Mrs. Fuentes.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Hermosa- especially now, you’re family.”

Family- he hasn’t even thought about that. Marrying Lance and he’d join the Fuentes. People who already adored him, a group that welcomed him with open arms when Lance first brought him home. Something that he’d only really experienced with the Shiroganes for two decades.

And now he and Lance could start their own.

“Babe- Mami, you made him cry, how could you?” Lance says, pulling Keith closer and kissing the tears on his cheek.

“I’m gonna make him cry even more if he hurts you, Lancito,” Hermosa answers, voice tinny and threatening, but with a loving tone.

“Don’t worry, Mrs.- Hermosa,” Keith tells her, squeezing Lance across the waist. “I’m so in love with your son I’d probably die if I hurt him.”

“When did you get so mushy?” Lance asks, looking at him with glistening ocean eyes.

Keith pecks his nose. “When you proposed.”

“Boys, I’m still on. At least hang up before you-”

“¡Mami! ¡No vamos a singar!”

Hermosa laughs, bright and cheerful. “Oh yeah, sure, y soy la reina de la inglaterra. Asegúrese de usar un condón,” she adds, causing a flustered Lance to scream “¡Mami!” again.

“But in all seriousness,” she says after calming down, “I’m so very proud. Of both of you. You’re perfect for each other and I know you’ll have a happy life. Te amo.” The pair responds in kind and Lance hangs up.

“A happy life,” Lance muses. His fingers rub absentmindedly across the ring. Keith shivers at the familiar touch of flesh and the new sensation of metal. “What do you think, babe? Want to share the rest of your living, breathing days with me in complete and utter joy?” “You’ve already given me that,” Keith whispers, nuzzling his face in Lance’s neck, tears still pricking his eyes. “Thank you, Lance. Thank you so much.”

Translations: “Mijito” = a term of affection “¡Mami! ¡No vamos a singar!” = “Mom! We aren’t having sex!” “Y soy la reina de la inglaterra. Asegúrese de usar un condón.” = “And I’m the Queen of England. Be sure to wear a condom.” “Te amo” = “I love you”

When Lance mentions “Aristotle and Dante,” he’s referring to the main characters of the book “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.” It’s really good, I highly recommend it.

No new section next week; I’ll be working on stuff for Mercy76 Week instead. When I return, however, more klance. Also, sorry for not posting segment 2 on tumblr, things got a bit hectic and I forgot. I’ll try to upload it soon.

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps: No Gender Roles, We Die Like Humans

The sequel (of sorts) to Banksy-Ass Wannabe is here! I ended up getting so invested in this world that I couldn’t help but write more for it. Didn’t help that @screwitanddoitanyway​ kept enabling me with ideas. So, here’s a collection of drabbles set before, during, and after BAW, all part of what I’m calling the “Spray It, Don’t Say It” series.

First up: Lance and Pidge discuss sexuality, gender roles, and Lance’s shopping habits. (AO3 Link)

 “Lance, will you stop doing bicycle kicks in the air and listen to me?”

 “I can listen and exercise, young Pidge. It’s called multitasking,” Lance says, continuing to move his legs.

 Pidge sighs and throws a pillow at him off her bed. “Well it’s distracting me so will PLEASE stop it?! I have something important I wanna talk about!”

 With a huff, Lance pushes himself into a sitting position and looks at her. “Alright, alright. What’s the big deal?”

 That gives Pidge pause. She shrinks into herself, slowly shutting her laptop and pulling her legs to her chin. “Can you come up here with me?” Lance crawls up onto the bed, settling himself beside her. “You know how my real name is Katie?”

 “Um, yeah, but literally no one calls you that anymore,” Lance says, rolling his eyes. “I forgot that was even your real name.”

 “No, I mean… it’s not my real name.”

 Lance blinks a few times, raises one eyebrow, then shrugs. “OK? I… I’m not sure where you’re going with this, buddy.”

 Pidge shakes her head. “No, Lance…” A sigh, and- holy crow, is Pidge crying? Way to go, Lance. “My birth name was Evan. I… I’m trans. My family already knows, but… you’re the first person outside of them and the school faculty I’ve told.”

 Lance nods, tentatively reaching out to grab the younger teen’s shoulder. “You think that changes anything? You’re still Pidge, you’re still a robotics genius, and you’re still my friend. Alright”

 “Y-yeah.” Pidge grins back, a bit weakly, but it’s enough to make Lance stop feeling like a complete jackass. “Thanks, Lance. Oh, and I’m aro-ace, but that’s not really important.”

 “I’d say it’s a pretty big deal, but no prob. It ain’t no thang,” Lance replies, flicking his wrist in some odd sort of dismissal. He rolls off the bed again and resumes throwing his legs up and down in the air. “So I’m the first friend you’ve told?”

 Pidge hums in agreement before opening her laptop again. “Gonna tell Hunk tomorrow before class. Wasn’t sure how you would react, to be honest.”

 He freezes, legs suspended in a V shape. “Pidge! I am offended! You know that as a proudly pansexual man I would have no such issues with your gender!”

 “I’m kidding, dude!” Pidge laughs, snickering behind a screen of graphs and algorithms. “I knew you wouldn’t care. I mean, you don’t care about your own gender half the time. Least, you didn’t use to.”

 Lance twists and flops on his stomach, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “Don’t see you wearing your skirts and makeup anymore… I was wondering if something changed,” Pidge says, tapping a finger to her chin in thought. “I miss doing your lipstick.”

 Lance’s gaze flicks to the side. “That… that would be Nyma’s fault. She said I was her boyfriend, so I had to be… well, a boy. Never mind the fact that me wearing dress doesn’t make me less of a man, or that I could kill in more colors of eyeshadow than she could ever dream of,” he explains. His voice is bitter and cold, a stark contrast to his usual self. Under his breath, he mutters “puta sucia.”

 “Ah, fuck her,” Pidge tells him, focusing once more on her physics assignment. “You aren’t dating anymore- mostly cuz she’s a harpy and a bitch- so what does it matter? You do you, Lance.” There’s a momentary pause, then she continues: “besides, seeing you rock a skirt made me feel better about myself.”

 “Awww, does the little Pidgey look up to her big bro Lancey?” Lance teases, causing another pillow to be chucked in his general direction. “Jeez! Sorry! But you’re right. Besides, there was this cute little green sundress I spotted at H&M the other day…”

 “Lance, please, your tab there is nearly at $300,” Pidge moans into her hands.

 “Only because you keep giving me the employee discount. Speaking of which…” Lance wiggles his eyebrows, lips turning upwards in a smirk.

“Fiiiinnneeee, but I swear to Asimov this is the last time!” She shrieks a little when Lance jumps up and hugs her. “You are the worst friend ever.” “Love you too, Pidge!”