Dirty Laundry (Klance Fanfic)

Chapter 10

Day 2

Saturday, December 17th

9:42 P.M.

Spying on Keith and Lance wasn't something Cleo felt proud of. It hadn't been her original intent to pry, she'd only come down the stairs to grab a glass of water before bed. So did she feel guilty peering at them from behind the kitchen doorway? Yes, of course she did. But was she about to stop her spying? No, probably not.

She didn't consider herself the rebellious one of the family. That title had been bestowed to Lance ages ago, and it was slowly moving it's way to Josie, who most of the time thought it funny to play pranks, hide Benji's phone, and talk back to their Mamá . Cleo liked to think of herself as the responsible child, following Danny, whom the other siblings nicknamed 'the perfect child' due to his exemplary grades, law school scholarship, and american dream family.

So, spying? At almost ten at night? In her pajamas no less, body resting against the hallway wall. It felt ludicrous, and yet she was there, watching, prying, spying, smiling and giggling. What had made her stay?

Honestly? It was the smile on Lance's face.

Lance smiled all the time, that was the signature Lance look. He was a tease, a flirt, a dork, and a prankster. But Cleo was also Lance's little sister, she'd seen him struggle through thick and thin, watched from the sidelines as he attended high school, came out of the closet, attended college. They had pulled at each others hair and broken each other's toys, but at the end of the day she loved him. Cleo liked to think she knew Lance Sanchez. And she knew when he really smiled. She knew the difference between a fake grin and a genuine one, she knew him well enough to recognise when someone made him truly happy.

She hadn't seen him like that since before the Benji incident.

"You're stepping on my feet, idiot," Lance complained, though there was a giggle under his breath and that toothy smirk on his chin. The two boys swayed to the beat of an old eighties song, their hands intertwined and socked feet moving across the kitchen tile.

"Not my fault," Keith countered, his gaze focused solely on his toes to watch for any mistakes (which he was still making, but whatever.)

Lance groaned. "Well it's not my fault! Look-" Lance grabbed Keith's hand and placed it on his shoulder, moving his own palm to Keith's hip. "I'll teach you how to dance, but you're gonna have to listen to me."

"I don't wanna learn," Keith grumbled, though his words were lost to the song. "But whatever, fine, teach me. But I get to lead."

"Nope," Lance countered quickly. "I actually know what I'm doing for once? I'm reveling in this moment."

The song ended and switched to a new one, an old song Cleo recognised but couldn't recall the name of. A distant memory of watching her parents dance to the song on a home video sparked her memory. It had been their wedding, Rosa twirling in a red party dress and Jaime in a casual button up. Cleo wondered if Lance even remembered it's tune. He must've remembered watching it on the old VHS player when they were kids, right? This was her parent's song. And to share it? Keith must be really important. Keith may not have known the song's significance, but Cleo was positive Lance did. And Lance hadn't stopped them from dancing yet.

" Let's dance in style, let's dance for a while, heaven can wait we're only watching the skies..."

Lance swallowed as the song's vocals began, now flustered with red on his cheeks. Oh, Cleo thought, a smirk on her chin. So he does recognise it.

"N-Now when you dance," Lance began, moving to the tune in a slow motion. "You have to count the beats. See? One, two..."

Cleo moved her head a little closer across the door's threshold, watching more intently. They couldn't see her, the boys too preoccupied with each other and the song to ever notice her presence.

After more of Lance's instruction, and a few minutes of beat counts, the two were beginning to get it. Keith stepped on Lance's foot again, and Cleo expected Lance to throw a smart comment. Instead he brushed it off, continuing his lesson like the mistake was nothing. The two of them were blushing, maddeningly so, and it made Cleo giggle into a muffled hand.

"This is hard," Keith complained, and it was obvious he was growing increasingly frustrated. The hand on Lance's shoulder fidgeted, while the other squirmed in Lance's grasp. "I'm doing it wrong."

"No, you're just new." Lance chuckled and squeezed Keith's palm tighter. The two of them began to move at a more casual rate, no longer focused on perfecting the moves, but instead just swaying to the song itself. "Didn't you ever go to a high school dance?"

"No one slow dances at school parties anymore."

"True," Lance agreed, though, and for a few more beats of the song they swayed. Then, ever so quietly, Lance questioned, "We're Slow dancing, right?"

Cleo watched Keith visible stutter. "Don't make it weird, Lance. But, uh, yes. We're slow dancing."

There was a pause. Lance let his eyes wander over Keith's pale skin, trailing from his lips and up to his eyes. Their two gazes locked, and as they danced their eyes continued to stay glued. Neither one dared to rip away.

"Is this alright?" Keith whispered, anxious about pleasing Lance.

Lance nodded immediately. "Yes." Again, that smile, that one that Cleo saw and recognized as absolute, as a grin that Lance only shared with the most worthy. "You're fun to dance with."

Cleo expected them to kiss, she truly thought that's where they were headed. The body language had all pointed to it. The moment was obviously there, the tension was high, their breaths were held. Lance looked at Keith expectantly, afraid to make a noise. Their hands clasped together even tighter, bodies suddenly closer, Keith rubbing his bottom lip between his teeth.

And then they broke apart, both at an awkward three feet away from each other. Cleo let a disappointed whine escape her lips, all before she squirmed again into her own palm.

"What was that?" Lance called out, the radio now shut off and both boys alert. Cleo squealed, racing as quickly and quietly as she could into the hallway bathroom to hide.

Once she was safe, Cleo leaned her head against the locked bathroom door. She slowly came down from the short burst of adrenaline, her body sliding against the wall and to the floor.

Why had they refused to kiss? They were dating weren't they? That's what boyfriends did. Cleo wasn't stupid, she had seen the movies, watched the shows, witnessed the relationships between her older siblings and their high school sweethearts. Cleo knew that Lance and Keith, not kissing, being awkward, blushing red faces, walking around each other, it wasn't normal. This was a crush, not a relationship.

What were they hiding?