klance drabbles

cups

// nsfw //

Keith had never really been the "party" type. It wasn't that he didn't see the appeal - copious amounts of liquor and a continuous loop of loud music couldn't be that off-putting to the average college student. His hangup rested in standing around amongst a bunch of strangers all night, sticking to the walls and watching everyone talk in their small personal circles. He was lacking in any close to friends to laugh obnoxiously with as they took turns downing shots of whatever booze the sea of guests had managed to scrabble together. Easy to see why one wouldn't want to stand in a doorway crushing a red solo cup in their palm for hours on end.

Still, he refused to spend all of his time cooped up in his dorm with his face in a textbook (although that was admittedly where most of it went). Every once in a while, he'd force himself to throw on a pair of jeans and a decent sweater and go linger in some designated frat house's den for the night, telling himself that interaction would be good if it happened to occur and if not, at least he'd gotten a drink and a good walk out of it.

Tonight had been one of those nights. The boy drummed his fingers against the sides of his cup, cradled in his hands the way one might hold a mug of coffee, and let his back rest against the wood paneling of the wall. One hand uncurled to snake into his pocket, withdrawing his phone. The glowing display told him that it'd been about three hours since he'd ascended the stairs into tonight's frat of choice, following the heavy beat of the bass from the speakers blasting inside. His growing sense of boredom was telling him that it was about time to head out.

Keith was preparing to stick his phone back in his pocket when he felt a presence stop before himself. Surprised, he glanced up - and up some more. Whoever it was that happened to be blocking his path to the exit was built like a god damn pool noodle. When his eyes finally reached the face, he was met with a crooked smirk. The expression paired with the clear flush of intoxication over the stranger's brown cheeks sent his guard instantaneously shooting up, a look of annoyance spreading across his own face.

"Something I can do for you?"

"Yes, actually." Tall, Dark, and Hammered gave his head a rubbernecked nod. "Your number? Don't even try and tell me you don't have a phone because..." He pointed down at Keith's cell  still clutched in his fist, which was slowly turning white at the knuckles. He opened his mouth, prepared to give this douchebag a piece of his mind.

Unfortunately, someone else beat him to the punch. A rather large hand came swinging in to connect with the back of the offender's head, contorting his face for a moment. "Oww." The boy turned his head to see who had assaulted him before letting out a cry of glee. "Hunk, my man!"

"Leave the poor guy alone," the newest addition in a glaringly yellow polo - Hunk, Keith guessed -  scolded as he snatched the hat off the first's head. TDH (that was what Keith decided to call him until he learned otherwise) scowled as he reached for his cap, sporting a serious case of hat hair.

"I wasn't doin' anything wrong." His voice was a childish whine as he finally secured the hat, sliding it backwards onto his head once more before placing his hands on his hips. "Since when it is a crime to politely ask a painfully handsome individual for some digits?"

"Lance," Hunk said, his tone an affectionate warning, and Keith could finally place a name to the face. Lance. It didn't strike him immediately as a frat boy name, but he could definitely see it now, surveying the boy from his crooked blue cap to his huge white sneakers. Jesus, his feet were big.

Although he'd been temporarily dissuaded from his beeline for the door, he was reminded of the  plan as his eyes landed on Lance's face once more to find the boy already grinning at him. "Checkin' me out? No worries, I would too."