#im so grateful that one of my lecturers is letting me sit the test two fucking weeks early

[the-blaze-empress]

:D how's life

holy shit life is so life-y rn. so much of it. so little time. not necessarily bad i am just ridiculously busy atm, going on a trip in literally 12 days holy shit thats so close so i have to do a couple uni assignments two weeks early, which is fun, plus im helping produce a show this year for the uni's ancient theatre club so thats like an extra 5 hours a week of rehearsals and meetings on top of classes and the two early assignments, BUT I GET TO SEE MY PARTNER IN 16 DAYS SO ITS ALL WORTH IT

and ive become slightly obsessed with techno/missa/phil so. yknow thats fun i will be single-handedly canonising and populating the missa/technoblade tag on ao3 i feel

[aenxiome]

Chapter 4: Who do you call when the ghostbuster is on vacation?

When I awake, I find myself tangled up in the bedsheets, half lying on top of Jazz and the other half plastered against the wall. Somehow we ended up looking like a pretzel. When the alarm started to blare, we startled and accidentally crashed into each other. Some part of her hit me in the mouth while my head slammed into her own.

" Oww, Jazz, cant you keep your head to yourself," I whine accusingly while trying to rub away the pain. " ah, that's going to leave a mark," Wincing as I look at her, holding the side of her head rubbing her temple. We carefully separate ourselves from each other, taking in mind our new splitting twin headaches and my own lasting injury from the day before.

I look over at Sam and Tucker, who are also waking up. It seems Sam found a comfortable spot on the floor using a bunch of blankets and a few of my hoodies along with a pillow from who knows where. On the other hand, Tucker fell asleep in my desk chair with his head on his arms lying across the desk. Jazz reaches over and turns off the alarm. She sits up, still half asleep,p and makes her way out of the room. I continue to lay on the bed as Sam and Tucker finish waking up, with Sam going as far as to put away the bedding and hoodies.

"Hey," Tucker says when he sees that I'm awake, " Are you feeling okay? You're not going to pass out again, are you?" Sam turns around at his questioning and exclaimed, "Danny! Your awake!" I smile sheepishly at them, " I'm okay, a little sore, but I'm fine." I attempt to sit up, but a wince accompanies every move. When Sam notices, she comes to sit on the side of the bed and helps me. Once I'm finally up, she engulfs me in a gigantic hug. When she pulls away from the embrace, she puts her hands on her hips and starts yelling, " Do you know how much you scared us!" Finally, she shakes my shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes, " Don't you ever do something like that again!"

" I won't, and I didn't know that would happen." Tucker comes over and joins the conversation. His expression is serious, " Dude, when you fell, it was like we were back in the lab. I thought…" he brakes, choking up, " I don't know what I thought but seeing you like that again." blowing out a shaky breath he finishes, " I thought we lost you this time."

Sam moves out of the way as I reach over and clasp my hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye, " Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." Then, trying to lose the tension, Sam asks, " Hey, do we still have clothes here or," I cut her off, "Oh, yeah, look in the bottom drawer," I say referencing the dresser, "you both should have clothes left in there." They both go to grab clothes and rush off to go get dressed.

I hate lying to them, but I can't guarantee anything. That feeling, just knowing what to do without having to think about it. Just feels so right. It was almost as if, at that moment, I was complete. While, yeah, doing it in my human form was my bad, though. I didn't expect such a big drawback but ill be ready for that next time. Maybe in my ghost form, it won't be so bad, though? I'll have to test this, but where…. " The bathroom is free," Sam shouts as she goes by the door freeing me of my musing. Tucker leaves the room to get ready, and I attempt to get up.

Every mussel protests as I force my fist into the top of the mattress and gingerly force myself to stand. I fight my tight muscles and straighten myself trying to keep my balance. I force myself to walk around the room and get ready for the day. With every step I take and arm movement, I make pain shoots through me. Up through my legs and into my waist into my joints and up inside my chest, my core, I feel pain. When moving my arms, they feel like a ton of bricks, making them feel heavy. I wince as I change my clothes and then put on a neutral face and make my way to the kitchen.

When I get there, the three of them are around the kitchen table eating cereal, but no Mom or Dad to be seen. Jazz sees me first, immediately getting up and forcing me into a chair, which I am so grateful for despite my neutral deposition. " What are you doing down here?" She hisses, " You should still be in bed." I grab a box of cereal and shove my hand in while replying, "as I told them," gesturing to my friends, " I'm fine." Grabbing me a bowl, she says, " You could barely walk stand hours ago. Let alone walk on your own. I'm not buying it." I avoid looking at her while providing my defense, " Spead healing remember. Im better."

" If your sure, man, but wouldn't you rather stay home? Sam had to help you sit up earlier." Tucker says. Jazz points at me righteously, " See, you need your rest! Go back to bed." She demands. I shake my head in refusal, " I can't afford to miss any more school. I'll be fine, I swear." We all continue arguing about my attendance when eventually Jazz gives up but forces an ultimatum, "fine, you can go, but no ghost fighting! Not until your 100%." I groan in response, " Then what are we going to do if a ghost attacks?" I question.

"We can handle it." Said Sam determined. "But what if-" I start to interject but can cut off by Sam, " We help you all the time. Doing it by ourselves won't be hard, you'll see. After all, three is better than one." I relent and let go of my argument. It doesn't take long for us to finish eating and head to Jazzes car.

The struggle starts as soon as we get out the door. The box ghost has managed to get out again. Before anyone can stop me, I fire off a carefully placed ectoblast and force him down. A second later, I pull out my thermos, and he was immediately sucked up and defeated. Maybe it was a cheap attack, but with the way things are currently beggars, can't be choosers.

"Danny!" Jazz shouts accusingly. " What?" At the angry looks, I sigh and continue, "It was only the Boxxy." Tucker tilts his head in question while sam voices their confusion, "Boxxy?" I nod my head agreeing with the name, "Yeah, Boxxy." Tucker looks as if he has swallowed a lemon, "you're giving the ghost nicknames now?" Great something else for us to argue over, "So? Why does it matter? They give me nicknames, So I can give them ones." They still don't look happy, but we are running out of time. "Can we talk about this later? Were going to be late." Tucker takes a look at his PDA and shows it to the others. The conversation is done.

For now.

They may not like what I did, but in my opinion, it is well worth it. One less ghost for them to worry about.

We all pilled in and traveled in silence to the school, barely making it in time. Before we get out, Jazz stops us to give a lecture, "Danny, no fighting today. Not with the ghosts, not with Dash, not with anyone. Understood?"

"Yeah, Yeah," I reply, sulking, "I know."

Then she turns to Sam and Tucker, " Now you two, keep Danny out of trouble. If anything gets out of hand, let me know, and I will take care of it." They answer simultaneously, " We've got it." Then, she turns back to me once again, " if the pain gets too bad, let me know, and I'll take you home."

" I'll be fine," I reassure her.

"If you say so," she says, not in the mood for an argument.

We enter just as the warning bell rings, making me feel a bit bad. While anymore I'm habitually late for just about everything, that doesn't mean that they are. We rush to homeroom and make it just in time to reach our new assigned seats and get ready for class.

The day is just beginning.

How hard could one Friday be?

A lot harder than expected.

As soon as the class finished, I headed out for my next class when I felt something. I was pulled by the back of my shirt into another hallway, separating me from Sam and Tucker. I get pushed up against the wall making an echoey thump in the hallway. I look around the hall, empty, then look up at my kidnapper. Lo and behold, it's just Dash again. When is this guy going to give me a break? I mean, this is ridiculous. Doesn't he have a life? This whole hallway meet-up is starting to become a cliche at this point. So instead of paying attention to Dashs' pathetic reasonings for his grab and go, I drown him out and internally ask the really important questions like:

Does this count as Kidnapping? While yes, I have been taken without my consent, I haven't left the building. So maybe this would be a forced separation? Abduction? Couldn't this be considered as a criminal ac-.

My thoughts get cut off as his fist lands in my stomach. I blanch from the sucker punch feeling my cereal trying to make its way back up. I manage to swallow it back down just as another punch makes contact. I try to keep my composer, but my body just can't take it. A small dribble of vomit makes its way out of my mouth and onto Dashs' arm. " Ew!" He exclaims, "Did you just spit up on me! Uggh, what's wrong with you, Fenton." With a look of disgust on his face, almost as he can't believe I got sick on him, he turns around and goes back into the main hall while I book it to the nearest trash can.

I manage to spit out what I had come up without losing any more of my breakfast. I lean up against the wall trying to pull myself back together. The punches, while weak, still hurt. The force made my core pulsate as if trying to come forward to protect me. When it pulsated, I could feel how strained it is. Even with its call for me, my core is weak, throbbing for reprieve.

The minute bell starts to ring as I force myself down the hallway, gritting my teeth, trying to stop the pain. It takes longer than usual for me to get there, oh how I wish, scratch that (you never know when you-know-who is listening *cough* Desiree *cough*), would love to be able to float right now. Thankfully I didn't get in any more trouble than a simple tardy on my record when I showed up. Being known for bathroom issues can come with its perks.

Classes so far today have been my saving grace. Especially since we have health instead of P.E this week, if I had to move around much more, it would have become the end of me. Not that the hallways aren't trying to get to me first.

To make it even better, So far, the only ghostly activity has been a couple of blobs. Hopefully, by the end of the day, I will somewhat be back to normal.

Once we are let out for lunch, I slowly make my way to the cafeteria. Once I get there, I spot Sam and Tucker near the back of the room already with their food. Sam, of course, has some kind of green thing. I can't tell what it is, but I know it's the opposite of Tuckers. I can identify his food, a leftover pork chop, and other assorted non-veggies make up his lunchbox.

After the Lunch Lady incident at the beginning of the year, they started to favor meals from at home rather than the schools. Sam for the issue with her not being able to eat what they serve as it is not to her taste, and Tucker for his issue with " stinky ectoplasm messing with beautiful meat." Apparently ecto- contaminated meat is where he draws the line with his obsession.

Me on the other hand, I am more than willing to risk it. A meal that Jazz and I didn't cook with less than a 70% chance of coming to life, sign me up. On the off chance that I do bring something from home, it is always factory-sealed junk food. I don't want to be known as the guy who brought murder hotdogs to lunch.

"Danny!" I hear coming from their spot, calling me over to them. I sit down across from them, letting out a relieved sigh. "There you are," Sam says, relieved, " we were getting ready to come to look for you. We thought Dash cramped you into a locker again." Thankfully not, I can't help but think. Those things are cramped. When I got to class after Dashs' interference, they weren't pleased about what had gone down. Tucker looked almost murderous when he found out what kept me.

" Aren't you going to get any food, dude?" Tucker asks between mouthfuls of food. "Nah," I reply and gesture to the line, " there is no way ill be able to get anything before lunch is over." The lines go down the walls of the cafeteria until right before the door. " I'm not hungry anyway," I say, lying through my teeth. " Are you sure?" Sam asks, quirking her eyebrow at me. " Yeah, I'm sure. If I change my mind, I'll get something." Satisfied, we turn our attention to small talk.

After a while, our conversation heads back to current events. " So, what do you plan to do about the ice thing?" Sam asks. I tilt my head a little in confusion, " What ice thing?" I get two looks of exasperation back before Sam slowly says, " You know the thing from the lot." Oh, that ice thing, " I thought that was all taken care of? It's not there anymore, so what is there to worry about?"

"Yeah, it's gone, but where did it come from? It's not like there are a lot of ghosts that can make ice." Tucker points out. A feeling of understanding rushes through me as I part my lips, " Ohh, did I forget to tell you?" Both of them look at me dumbfounded as I wait for an answer. I slump down farther in my seat as I reveal, " The ice is mine." Eyes wide, Sam questions, " You made a spike of Ice?" I nod my head then she continues angry with my omission, " why didn't you tell us!? We thought there was a new ghost on the loose!"

"I thought you guys knew," I say, throwing my hands up in defense. "I'll admit I've never done something like that before, but I thought you would have realized it came from me. As Tuk said, there aren't many ghosts who can make ice." Tucker comes to their defense, "It's not like we have ever seen you do that before." I sigh in understand then try to create the end of the discussion, " I plan to go to the Farfrozen to see Frostbite anyway. After what happened yesterday, I need to know what's going on with me."

"What do you-" Tucker gets cut off by a scream. The whole room goes dead silent. Then, another scream comes right after echoing through the room. After a second, just about everyone is jumping out of their seats in a panic. Sam and Tucker rush to their bags and start pulling out ecto-weapons. " Sit here," Sam orders, " let us take care of it."

"Yeah, Yeah," I blow them off, "well, at least the line is gone. I'm going to grab a bag of chips or something." Another scream echoes out, and they start running towards the door. "Be careful!" I yell out at their backs, but they are already out the door. I get up and go through an empty line and buy some pre-packaged foods and then make my way back towards my seat.

I take a few minutes to eat what I want then put the rest in my bag. I look towards a clock that's in the room and see that almost ten minutes have gone by. Against their orders, I pick up my things and go towards the chaos. Once I make it to them, I see something that I would never have expected. In the middle of the hallway are Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, tangled up with two Ecto-Octopi.

One of them has Tucker hanging upside down, holding him by his ankle. While another has Sam squashed beneath its tentacles and shaking her like a rag doll. Jazz, on the other hand, is the only one who is armed. She Is hiding behind a trashcan with a lipstick blaster.

I stare at the chaos in front of me and can't help but to say, " what in the zone is going on!?" My yell startles everyone. Even the Octopi.

"Danny!" They all holler simultaneously, the people, not the Octopi. " Getaway, we've got this!" Sam yells back. " This what you call handled?!" I say, hands out, gesturing to the scene in front of me.

I walk over to Jazz and take the lipstick blaster away and start over towards the ghosts. Using the lipstick blaster, I hit the Octopus holding Sam and the eye. The pain startled them, and they quickly released its tentacle from around her. Sam hurried away and rushed over towards me. " Give the blaster to me, let us handle it" I ignore her and push us away from the octopus just as a tentacle comes slamming down onto the tile floor.

" Get back, let me handle it!" I say in a rush, " You too Jazz," looking back towards her. I make my way forward with the blaster and go to the octopus keeping Tucker. I carefully point the blaster at its tentacle with a steady hand and fastly slash downward with it cutting it off. The tentacle and Tucker drop towards the ground. The heat from the blaster cauterizes the wound leaving only the ectoplasm from the cut limb to bleed out.

Tucker rushes over to safety as I use the blasters to hit them in the eye once again. While being temporarily blinded, they flail their limbs around, trying to hit everything around them. I, on the other hand, quickly reach into my bag and look for a Fenton Thermos. As soon as I find one, I quickly pull off the cap and suck the octopi up and seal them in.

Once everything is in the clear, I slump down to the floor, huffing for breath. Letting the adrenaline wear off, I stay sitting on the floor while everyone else comes to me. "What were you thinking!" Jazz exclaimed while slamming into me with a hug, " Are you hurt? You should have stayed away. Your powers are out. Don't you realize how dangerous this was?" Giving her an accusing look, I can't help but point out, " I am better off than you. A lipstick blaster? What happened to the weapons you guys took with you?" I ask turning to, my friends. Tucker, mumbling with a blush plastered on his face, admits, " They ate them."

I stare at them, starting to lose some color. Then, stumbling with my words, I stutter out, "Ate them? They ate the weapons, oh my, that's not good." Jazz and I both look at each other with a look of doom. "What, what is it?" Sam asks, now worried due to our reactions. " Those weapons weren't normal Fenton weapons." Jazz confesses. " What do you mean?" Tucker asks, confused, " Your parents made them, right?"

Jazz looks over to me for approval which I don't give before she answers, " Those weapons were advanced models. They aren't supposed to be available to the public." I interject, " Since the weapons are made of metal and not an organic ectoplasmic substance, the octopi won't be able to digest it. So meaning eventually they are going to spit the weapons back up." Looking at them and seeing that they are listening, I continue worried, " there is no way to tell when they are going to drop them, and whoever picks them up could hurt someone."

Before we get a chance to talk, any more noises start making their way through the hall. Sam, Tucker, and I go back towards the cafeteria, but before we get too far, Jazz calls out to me, "Danny," I stop to look at her, " I think its best if you go home." Then, giving her a betrayed look for her suggestion, she elaborates, "you don't look too good. Your really pale, and your barely moving."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I reply stubbornly. Sighing, she walks over to me and takes my bag, " Come on, I'll drive you home." Before I can get out a protest, she reminds me, " You need to go to the Farfrozen right? What better time to go than when Mom and Dad are going to be on a ghost hunt." With that, I stopped protesting and let her lead me to the car.

[glowstickhaloboy]

klance roommates au

usual disclaimer: its long as hell

keith is the newly hired, up-and-coming sales rep of his office job. hes fresh out of college, determined, and as awkward as he is in real life, he knows how to make a sale because its all scripted. his boss, doris, a wrinkly old lady who brings in cookies for the office at the end of every month, adores this strapping young man with a real work ethic.

his brother, shiro, is an ethics professor at the local university, Bullshit University (BU). while shiro is glad that keith is doing really well in life for this age, he has this annoying habit of constantly asking keith if hes alright, or if he needs anything, or if theres anything he feels like he wants to do to make himself better. keith always says no.

BU has a bs program called Apprenticeship, wherein a student will be mentored/sponsored by a professor, and the ethics department is head of the program, so shiro also hand picks his own apprentice and its a Big Deal and there are so many kids who apply for it not only because professor shirogane is hot as balls, but because this program gives out credits like candy. this semester’s lucky apprentice is none other than lance mcclain.

lance, if you ask him, will say that this all went completely according to plan and he never once doubted that shiro would pick him. on the inside, he is in an eternal state of wtf wtf wtf wtf how did i do this??!?!?!!!

keith knows that this is something shiro does because shiro likes to update keith on his life, so he’ll call and they’ll chat for a while and usually there will be some mention of an apprentice and whats going on with their studies. as the school year comes to an end, keith obligingly asks shiro who his chosen apprentice is for the upcoming year.

the line goes quiet.

“shiro? did i lose you?”

“no, im still here.”

more silence.

keith says, “what is it.”

“i have a small favor to ask of you.”

lance, if you asked him, would say that his interview with shiro went very well. he would say that he had shiro eating out of the palm of his hand. in reality, there was a lot more crying about money and family matters and anxiety for the future, and when shiro offered lance a tissue lance mistakenly grabbed shiro’s tie and blew his nose into it. two weeks later, he was asked to submit a final letter of intent, which he almost didn’t do because he was too embarrassed, then stayed up all night before the deadline because he couldnt not take a shot at it.

the problem with an apprenticeship position was that it was not like a residency staff position, wherein lance could live on campus without being charged a room & board fee, and he could not be both a part of residency staff and an apprentice. (the residency staff made his decision easy by rejecting his application, but still, it was a bummer.) that being said, lance had absolutely no money to stay on campus next year, and he could not commute because he lived four hours away from the school.

keiths apartment, shiro had not failed to notice, was a convenient 32 and a half minutes from the campus.

“you want me to what?” keith asks shiro, paling, staring into his categorized fridge. he knows where everything is. he decides where everything is. he is not sharing his living space with some kid.

“hes not some kid,” says shiro. “hes 20 years old and he needs this. i really want to make this opportunity work for him, but the school wont let him stay with me. please, keith. i think this would be good for both of you.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“can you honestly tell me that you arent lonely all by yourself?”

“no, im not. im comfortable and in control of my own life. i dont want one of your projects from the projects ruining everything ive worked to get, and i think its bull-headed of you to assume that you know whats best for me, like you always try to do, and i think its rude of you to invite someone to live in my apartment.” 

“he likes mus-”

keith hangs up on shiro mid-word, fumes for a few hours as he gets some work done and eats dinner, then goes to sleep.

the next day, keith feels guilty, sure, but he stands by what he said. shiro would call him in a few days and initiate the apology, and they would both put it behind them without mentioning it again. until then, he would throw himself into his work and pretend that everything was fine.

at 6pm, doris knocks on the side of his cubicle, smiling down on him in all her wrinkly glory. shes 60 going on 80 with graying hair and a cozy southern drawl. “darling, why are you still sitting at that desk? its a friday night. youre young, youre cute, you must have a sweetheart you wanna spend it with, or some friends at least.”

keith smiles politely. “thats alright, doris. id rather work, honestly.”

“you sure, honey? i admire a good worker, but if youre working good for the wrong reasons, thats nothing to be proud of. dont you have a nice girl to go home to?”

keith isnt even going to touch the last part of that statement because he doesnt know doris’s political views and doesnt have the time nor patience for a lecture from her in case her warm hospitality is all a condition of keiths being a Model Young Man. he grimaces and says, “no, i dont. and if i did have someone to go home to, it wouldnt be the start of a night going out on the town, it would be someone to have a relaxing night in with.”

“that sounds nice,” says doris, with a minor suggestion behind it that keith should get his coat and get the hell out of here.

“but id really prefer to work,” insists keith. doris clicks her tongue and tells him to suit himself.

meanwhile, lance is panicking. here he has this amazing opportunity, and no way to make it happen. hunk, allura, and pidge all live on campus, apartments nearby are way too expensive, and nobody on the forums is responding to his roommate pleas. he has made it clear that he will take literally anything, and still, no bites.

“im sorry,” shiro says at the start of their meeting. “i tried to set something up, but it fell through. there are a couple of scholarships you can try applying for, but their awards arent given out until december, so youd have to find a way to make ends meet until then.”

“and i cant be a part time student working,” says lance, “because part time students arent eligible for the internship.”

shiro sighs grimly. “thats right.” for a moment, he does nothing but frown at the wall, and lance has nothing to say so he doesnt interrupt. slowly, without explanation, shiro picks up his desk phone and dials. after a moment of patience, he sets it back down and pinches the bridge of his nose. “i want to figure something out for you, lance. do you have any ideas?”

lance shakes his head, shrugging. “i asked a couple of my friends to get an apartment with me, but two of them are residency staff, and the other one takes too many classes a semester to be able to work enough to afford an apartment.

shiro is about to say something, but the phone rings. he snatches it up. “keith? i thought you were ignoring me. oh. no, thats not it. actually, um, i have him sitting in my office with me. i was hoping you had reconsidered.” there was a very long pause. “i understand that,” says shiro. lance’s organs are all mixed up. his heart is beating in his throat and his stomach is somewhere near his feet. “i understand that,” he says again. “im sorry for what i said. you know i didnt mean it that way. i worry about you, thats all, because im a worrier. im not trying to influence your life at all, i really am just asking for a favor. ive exhausted all my other options. keith, youre all ive got.”

he covers the speaker with his mouth and looks at lance. “are you comfortable talking to him?”

lance balks. “who is it?”

“my brother, keith, the person im trying to get to let you stay with him. he wants to talk to you.”

lance holds his hand out for the phone, and shiro passes it over. lance says, “hello?”

“give me one reason why i should let you stay with me,” says a voice that is not exactly what lance is expecting, but still intimidating. “its not a trick question or a test, but it is pass-fail.”

lance’s mouth is so dry, he isnt sure he’ll be able to speak. “i,” he starts, then decides that he cant, then realizes that he has to. “i dont know what im doing. everyones trying to tell me what i should do, or what i have to do, but your brother--um, professor shirogane--is the only person whos asking me what i want to do. that means a lot to me, and so does the fact that he chose me to be his apprentice. so i want to give this my honest to god best shot to repay him, and because i need to know for myself what im capable of. so, um, sir, if you can give me my foot in the door, i promise i would be grateful for that, and if it doesnt work out, then you can kick me out, and i’ll still be grateful that you gave me the chance. um, thanks for giving me the chance to talk.”

there was a long beat of silence. shiro’s mouth was covered with his hand, so lance couldnt tell if he was smiling, but his eyes were definitely shining.

keith said, “shiro always does make people want to be the best version of themselves. dont tell him i said that. put him back on the line.”

lance shakily handed the phone back. shiro put it to his ear. “keith? uh huh.” he chuckled. “i know.” he closed his eyes, the tension seeping out of his shoulders, and lance couldnt help but feel his hopes soar. “thank you, keith. i promise i’ll pay you back for this, and you wont regret it.” he hangs up. “lance, you have a place to live next year.”

come the end of august, keiths career is running itself. he clears out the storage room in preparation for a temporary guest with the help of shiro, whose job it is not only to set up the room, but to pay lance’s half of the rent if lance should default.

two days after the bed and desk are built, lance mcclain moves in. hes weighed down by bags when keith answers the door, looking boyish and disheveled. “whoa,” he says, and stumbles back, almost loses his balance, then manages to catch himself.

keith prickles. “what?”

lance’s eyes swoop up and down keith a clean once.

“youre shiro’s younger brother,” he says, blinking in surprise. “i didnt expect you to be so... you sounded older and mea-- um, on the phone. i thought i was going to be living with a forty year old dude or something, but you’re. um. hi, im lance mcclain.”

he sticks out his hand, strapped down by bags. keith shakes it.

“keith kogane. your room is down the hall and to the left. the bathroom is the first one on the right. my bedroom is the door at the end of the hall, the one thats always shut.”

lance nods. “right,” he says, sounding choked. “i’ll just put this stuff away then...”

he gets inside his room and calls hunk, freaking out about how the guy he has to live with is a lunatic and might also be a serial killer. how else did one explain his bathroom being so freakishly clean? hunk tells lance to calm down and that its just first-day jitters. everything will feel normal once lance gets the routine down.

but lance does not get the routine down. if keith isnt telling lance not to move the milk in the fridge (lance needed somewhere for his blueberries), then he was shouting through the bathroom door to shut up (lance sang in the shower! big deal!). lance was positive that keith hated him, which, between getting his ass kicked at school and feeling like a burden at the apartment, made for a hellish first month on lance’s part. he and keith never talked to each other, because keith was always leaving for work in the mornings before lance woke up, and lance would get back sometimes at 9pm or later, when keith was already showering and getting ready for bed. on weekends, lance booked it out of there to hang out with hunk and pidge, but keith was usually still awake when lance got back, either reading or watching something on TV.

the best way to describe the tension was frigid. keith didnt acknowledge lance so long as lance kept to himself. and the biggest mistake lance made was to break that tension while keith was home.

of course, lance didnt know at the time. he was pretty sure that keith was out, but too scared to check because the door at the end of the hall was daunting, and lance was pretty sure that keith was the only one who could pass through it without damaging his soul permanently.

lance had assignments, okay? he was a music major. that involved some instruments being played from time to time. usually, he was able to work around keith’s schedule, or quiet enough that he could do it when keith was sleeping, but when he wasnt worried about it, he wasnt worried about it. which led to a high pitched scream from a certain college student as keith banged on his bedroom door.

collecting himself, lance went to open it. “sorry, i-”

“what the hell are you doing?”

lance sighed. “look, keith, im grateful that youre letting me live here, but that means letting me live here. i have assignments, and music relaxes me. so if i can put up with your alphabetical cereal boxes, i think its fair that you let me get some work done.”

“im trying to get my work done.”

“youre not even at work!”

keith pinched the bridge of his nose, a very shiro thing to do. “i dont have a problem with the music,” he said at last. “but we better not get any noise complaints from the neighbors.”

lance saluted him and shut the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

after that, tension melted a little more every day. lance’s outburst seemed to have triggered a chain reaction wherein keith and lance actually learned how to live with each other. after respectfully asking lance to remember to take his beauty products out of the bathroom when finished with them, he realized that what lance really needed was his own shelf, so he adjusted. when lance left on saturday mornings and saw keith taking his usual post at the coffee table with his stack of files, lance would ask if keith wanted anything from mcdonalds before coming home. slowly, surely, they became roommates.

until one day lance came home and saw keith watching his favorite show. it was a tidal wave of loud that keith had never had to experience before. youre only on the first season okay scoot over can i put my feet up im going to who do you like best so far what do you think of the villain isnt the actor who plays jack so hot-

they both freeze a little, lances face going red. “um,” he said. “its not like im going to be bringing any guys home, so we dont have to-”

“im gay,” keith says bluntly, because it looks like lance is about to have a heart attack. he feels a little like doris in that moment, although he doesnt know why. “yeah, hes hot.”

lance melts into the couch. “that makes that easy then,” he says. “that makes this the gay-partment. actually, we cant call it that, because im bi for real, and gay-partment doesnt sound good anyway, but you get what im-”

“i get it,” says keith, a mercy killing. he presses play with finality.

shiro checks up on keith frequently enough, but he never asks about lance any more than “is everything okay between you guys?” keith suspects that shiro does not want to push, and is waiting for keith to be the person who actually brings it up.

keith doesnt. even when he waits for lance to get home from classes so they can watch an episode together before keith goes to bed (because the last time keith watched it without him lance threw a fit), or when lance’s awful car craps out on him so they have to share for a week while the mechanic handles it, which involves a lot of carpooling and, as lance calls them “jam sessions” where he blares his horrible music and sings along (but isnt actually so bad because sometimes he improvises lines to the songs and he can be funny when he wants to be). 

keith realizes over the six days that lance is gone for thanksgiving break, not even a full week, that the apartment feels too quiet without him, and at the ripe old age of 23, he might have found his first genuine friend.

after thanksgiving, the barrier melts more. keith is cool with lance having friends over as long as he gets a heads up, and lance invites keith to his occasional open mic night performances at BU.

one day, lance comes home and sees keith hunched over some files on the kitchen table, tie loose on his neck, a half-finished bowl of leftover pasta abandoned near him. lance realizes that he has no idea what keiths job is.

“sales,” keith informs him. “i convince people that they need to buy eco-friendly plastic cups in bulk for their business or school.”

“sounds boring.”

“its not.”

“do you supply cups to my school?”

“theyre not one of my clients, no.”

“if you cant sell cups to your own brother’s school, how good of a salesman can you be?”

keith rolls his eyes and--hey, finally--looks up. “im the best in the department,” he says. “because i take my job seriously, lance. as seriously as you take your apprenticeship to shiro, which is the only reason i agreed to let you stay here.”

“wow,” says lance. “thats harsh. all work and no play makes keith revert back to his old angry self, i see.” he leaves. keith sighs, decides he can no longer focus, and packs up his files. he cleans up his wasted dinner and knocks on lance’s door. lance doesnt answer, so keith persists. when hes ignored again, he grits his teeth and says, “oh, real mature.”

he turns to go back to the living room and sees the bathroom door open. lance steps out, shirtless. “who are you talking to?” he asks, shirtless. he scratches the back of his head, shirtless.

“are you hungry?” asks keith. “i was thinking we could order a pizza and watch an episode or two.”

lance considers keith for a moment, shirtless, then rolls his eyes, still shirtless. “if thats the best you can do for apologies, mullet, then you have a lot to learn. i was going to take a shower.” he reaches around keith, shirtless, and pulls a towel off the inside of his bedroom wall. “call and order, i’ll be fast.” before he shuts the bathroom door again, he says, “i don’t are what else is on it as long as there are green peppers.” and then he’s gone, shirtless.

keith wakes up and wonders why he blacked out for a second.

the pizza arrives, and lance gets out of the shower, clothed, and one or two episodes become six or seven, with keith continuously having to pause because lance is talking and getting carried away because hes getting so excited. its thursday and keith has work tomorrow, he knows, and yet hes denying it. his stomach is full of warm pizza and lance has just stopped talking about the way it rained when they filmed this scene, but keith hasnt reached over to his play yet.

“you would be a good salesman,” he tells lance. “youve got the charisma for it.”

“keith, that is literally the meanest thing youve ever said to me. no offense, but to suggest i would spend my life sitting in a cubicle is unforgivable. to each their own, though. when all the little kids in your third grade class were saying, i want to be a firefighter! and, i want to be a princess! what made you snap up your suspenders and say, i want to sell eco-friendly plastic cups!”

“i dont wear suspenders.”

“thats not the question i was asking.”

keith shrugs. hes laying down more than hes sitting up, which as a rule, is frowned upon when using couches in this apartment. lance has been a bad influence in this regard. “its practical.”

“did you have to take business classes and everything?”

“i took them, yeah.”

lance throws his head back and groans, pokes keith’s thigh teasingly with his big toe. “man, i cant imagine going to school to actually learn a useful life skill. whats job security like?”

staring up at the ceiling, keith is unsettled to find that he knows the answer. “boring.”

lance sits up. “huh?”

“its too easy,” says keith. “every day, its just selling cups. a moron could do it. and my boss doris is a peach, but this morning she stood at karen’s cubicle across from mine for a straight hour talking about plants.”

“plants are so practical,” says lance. “you have a house plant in the corner.” he points at herman.

“his name is herman.”

lance’s eyes blow wide. “dude! no way! you named your plant! i didnt think you were the type!”

“ive never said his name out loud with another person in the room before.”

lance covers his face with both hands and wheezes. “you talk to herman when no one else is in the room.”

lance does not say that he had been calling herman shelby.

“theres a smaller one on my desk at the office named sherman,” says keith.

“not judging, dude, but why would you give so much of yourself to this job if it isnt what you want to do?”

keith shrugs again. “its practical.”

“im a music major and i dont buy that shit. why dont you do what you love? like, how does the time that you spend not doing whatever it is you love not a giant waste?”

“because...” keith feels like a robot. “its practical.”

“if practicality didnt matter, what would you do?”

keith considers lance, considers himself. he finds the answer but decides that its too scary right now. 

“i’d sell cups on the moon.”

lance busts a gut. the seriousness of the topic derailed, keith presses play, and they go back to watching the episode. lance doesnt interrupt for the remainder of the episode, and when keith looks over, he realizes its because lance has fallen asleep. with his legs spread over keith’s lap. when had they gotten there? keith couldnt move now. he had work in the morning.

he was also already in his pajamas. and the sofa was warm enough, and the heating was on in preparation for winter. and keith was already up later than he normally stayed awake...

he woke up with sunlight streaming peacefully on his eyelids. that was usually a luxury saved for the weekends. SUNLIGHT? keith’s eyes popped open, and he remembered all at once talking with lance, falling asleep, lance. last night had been a lance-heavy night. his toes were underneath keith’s shirt, his face smushed into the cushions.

keith clawed his phone out of his pocket as he extracted himself from the couch, from lance. 9:08. shit shit shit shit. 2 missed calls from doris. he ran into his room, where his alarm clock had been screaming for two and a half hours now, and threw on a dress shirt, pants, and shoes, then he rocketed out the door, his phone already pressed to his ear. hi doris sorry sorry sorry i overslept im leaving now i’ll be right here this wont happen again.

his coworkers dont let him live it down. all day its, how ya doing, keith? hows that perfect punctuality youre always harping about? crazy hook up with your take-home pile, was it? doris is the only one who is understanding, and, luckily, her opinion of the situation is all that matters.

“whatever kept you,” she says, “i hope you had fun.”

keith is exhausted by the time he gets home. he unknots his tie on the way to his room, and as he passes lance’s door, he hears the soft tones of music from inside. he pauses. knocks. lance calls, “come in.”

keith pokes his head inside. theres lance, several instruments sprawled across his floor, and him in the center of them, a ukulele in his hands. keith smiles. “sounds good,” he says.

lance gives him a sympathetic eyebrow raise. “you look like shit.”

“thanks.”

“come sit down.”

grateful for the invitation, keith obeys, unraveling his tie all the way. he likes that lance doesnt make him say anything. he goes back to playing music, singing, a soft song that has keiths eyelids fluttering shut and his shoulders relaxing before they can help it.

the next week, lance’s semester ends. he heads home to swap the old year for a new model, see his family, catch up with neighborhood friends. theres the weirdest disconnect he gets where he turns to make a comment to someone, expecting them to be someone else, and gets frustrated.

keith, meanwhile, has resorted to calling shiro at night to somehow break this god awful silence. they get together on christmas, which helps. hes ready to spend new years alone with the LGBT section of Netflix when, at 10:14 PM, his phone rings in a way it doesnt usually. He presses accept, and suddenly Lance is grinning at him in a room full of shouting Cubans.

“Keith! My man! How’s it hanging! No, shut up Marcia, I’m busy. Hey, what’s up!”

Keith is a little bewildered. “Um. Hey.”

“hold on, its super loud in here. let me get to my room so i can actually hear you.”

“why did you call?” asks keith.

lance gives him a look as he enters a much more quiet space. “because my spidey senses told me that you were sitting alone on your couch like a loser right now.”

keith frowns down at his comfortable pajamas. “i am not a loser.”

“of course not,” lance agrees. “thats thanks to me, by the way, and my amazing ability to be in two places at once, thanks to facetime.”

“hows home?” keith asks, aware that suddenly they were chatting, and that the frown he’d been carrying around for days had magically lifted itself off his face. lance is as excitable as ever, even when hes miles and miles away, and keith wonders at the idea of all this distance theyve lived with between them suddenly closed. its an interesting thought.

he doesnt realize how long lance has kept him talking until 11:59, when lance brings his attention to the countdown clock. the inside of keith’s chest feels warm and calm knowing that lance didnt want keith to be alone on new years, and that he cared enough to sit in his room for two hours talking at a screen, and that he was choosing to spend the passover to midnight with keith.

at midnight, keith clinks a glass of champagne against his phone, as does lance, and they drink together. then, lance sombers.

“hey, um. i wanted to thank you for everything you did for me last semester,” says lance. “im still trying to put things together for the spring, but if you want, i could let you know how it goes. i mean, i dont want to stop talking to you, or knowing you.”

keith is utterly lost. “what are you talking about?”

now lance looks confused. “the end of the semester,” he says.

“what about it?”

“my apprenticeship.”

Apprenticeships only lasted a semester!

keith actually slapped his forehead. “lance!” he said, sitting up and clutching his burning phone tighter. He’d had to plug it in an hour ago. “why didn’t you remind me? are you trying to tell me you left? that you literally left to go back home without saying goodbye?”

“you didnt say goodbye!” lance defends, voice getting shrill. “i thought you werent the type!”

“i thought you werent leaving! or, i mean, i thought you were coming back right after!”

“I literally packed out my whole room, keith.”

“people need things when they go home.”

lance shook his head, dumbfounded. “i cant believe we’re having this conversation. what are you going to do without me? yes, keith, im back home and scouring the forums for a new roommate next semester. im trying to have a bonding moment where i thank you for everything youve done for me, but youre ruining it by being an idiot.”

“damn it, lance. you dont have to move out. youre more than welcome to keep living here. lance? did you freeze?”

“what? no. i just. i kind of thought you hated me.”

hate? the literal opposite. keith had to fight not to be sarcastic. “i dont hate you. i want you to stay here. not as a favor, but because this place feels weird without you here now. its as much yours as it is mine. we can put you on the lease if you want.”

“keith, that is the grossest, most adult thing youve ever said to me. of course i will legally sign a binding contract with my name next to yours.”

did lance just... keith’s smaller face went red next to lance’s bigger face. keith sat up a little straighter. “um, cool. cool. when you get back, then. so, you are coming back?”

“yes,” said lance. “and thank god it means i dont have to live with smelly jeremy and his flea-ridden dogs. just your flea-ridden mullet.”

keith narrowed his eyes and hung up.

he got a text from lance saying, see yr flea-tastic self on january 25th, then marked the day down in his phone. afterward, he opened the door to lance’s room, which was indeed empty. keith’s heart went a little spastic at the thought that january 25th could have come and gone, and he would have had no idea that lance had not been planning to return. he called shiro and berated him for not talking about the apprenticeship more often, so keith would have been prepared.

lance comes back and brings the sun with him. keith, who has been this close to quitting his job every time he walks into work, could not be happier. they move lance’s things in together, which involves a lot of stopping and making fun of lance’s possessions on keith’s part. lance grins and goes for the mullet, and somehow they end up wrestling on the floor.

keith thinks, i cant not kiss him.

and then his phone vibrates against his leg. he remembers that lance is living here because he has nowhere else to go, and that putting him in this position if he doesnt feel the same way about keith is a horrible thing to do. he untangles himself, guilty.

“where are you going?” demands lance. “i was winning!”

“its doris,” says keith. “gotta take it.”

speaking of doris, she notices. at 6pm the next day, she stops by keiths cubicle. “been a while since we last met here, sugarcake. trouble at home?”

theres no one else in the office, and keith is close to a meltdown. he swivels to face doris, hangs his head, and says, “i think im in love with my roommate lance.”

her face doesnt betray an ounce of shock, but rather, shes giving him the same look shiro used to when keith would talk about nightmares. keiths heart shatters from being touched by kindness. he doesnt leave the office for another hour, not because he was working, but because that night doris lets him tell her everything.

lance is still in class when keith gets home, eats, showers, and gets ready for bed. he almost doesnt know what to do with himself now that theres a whole other conscious entity living in this house--his fucking emotions. he has his hair pulled back, his pajamas on, and hes just getting ready to call it a night when the front door opens and lance tosses his bag in its usual spot under the window.

“hey,” he says, surprised to see keith up. “dont want to miss the early bird special tomorrow. what’re you doing up?”

“can we play?” asks keith.

lance is clearly doubly surprised, but he guides keith into his room. its as blissfully messy as it was before lance left for break. “you said we. do you play?”

keith picks up a lap-sized keyboard. “i used to.”

“i didnt know that. why didnt you say?”

“because you wouldve asked me to play with you.”

“thats true.” lance picks his ukulele, and they start to improvise together, each learning how the other plays, adjusting. “you werent kidding, you really play.”

“i wasnt kidding,” says keith.

suddenly, lance stops. “hey, is everything alright? youre acting weird. dont tell me youre regretting asking me to move back in.”

“no,” keith says immediately. “no, im just wondering if maybe... are you happy here? or is this just a roommate situation?”

“what do you mean, is this just a roommate situation?”

“you know what i mean.”

“no,” says lance. “i dont.”

“i mean,” says keith, “do you actually like living here, or do you live here because im your only option?”

lance sets down his ukulele. “i like living here because the bathroom tiles are cold when i get out of the shower so i hop to the rug by the door and pray to god i dont slip and break my neck. and because the sunset turns the kitchen wall purple while i make pasta. and because im the only one who can put my feet up on the coffee table. and because the cereal is arranged in alphabetical order and the plant’s name is herman. i like living here. here feels like home.”

keith kisses him. he stands up and backs away just as quickly, guilty, unable to believe he had just crossed the line like that. god, he’s going to have to tell doris about this. she would rip his head off so politely.

“what the fuck?” says lance, blunt and surprised. keith winces, about to apologize, when suddenly he’s being crowded up against the wall of his storage room, of lance’s bedroom, and kissed like his lips leaked chocolate. he melts. lance snakes one hand behind keith’s neck and the other around his waist, and keith tugs lance closer by the hips. the hand at keith’s neck digs into his hair and pulls out the hair tie. the hair tie disappears. keith pulls lance closer. 

lance pulls back. “finally.”

“you had the option to make the first move, you know.”

“nah, not me, i’m a coward.”

“yeah, right.”

they kissed again, with keith holding tighter and lance staying longer. keith thinks, doris isnt going to believe this one.

that night, the taboo on keith’s bedroom door breaks when keith invites lance to sleep on a queen sized mattress. it takes lance a full five minutes to stop laughing at the clear cowboy paraphernalia keith inherited growing up in texas, but he doesnt mind curling up to sleep by the potted cactus on the nightstand, whose name he politely asks for.

keith stops killing himself working to sell eco-friendly plastic cups, and with all his spare time, he and lance start writing songs together. shiro, in a display of good sportsmanship, never points out that he was right.