Bloody Texas

Would You Fuck Someone in a Library?

Lance watched Keith through the phone screen. "Come on, you're not looking! I wanna take a picture together."

"Do you want me to crash this car?"

"Just one look!"

Keith turned his head toward him for a second as he took the picture. Cat ears and glitter stickers decorated their faces. Lance lowered his phone down and inspected it with a satisfied smile. He leaned over to quickly kiss Keith's cheek, "Thank you, babe."

Keith didn't respond, only smiled. A bright aura emitted from his darkened figure. As he drove, the sun filtered through his hair and irritated his eyes. In the natural light, Lance could make out the imperfections in his skin: his nose was dotted with blackheads, puffiness surrounded his eyes, his eyebrows were unruly and reached toward each other. It wasn't surprising with how adamantly he refused hanging out in the spa.

Lance's eyes traced the lines of Keith's face. Every feature was molded in harmony; Lance fell in love with every curve and every scar. His cheeks tinted red as he leaned over the console to wrap his arms around Keith's neck. "Babe," he chimed and bent his elbows to ruffle his hair. "Babe." He brought one hand down over his left eye and traced the bridge of his nose. "Babe," he drew it out in a long whine. He nuzzled his forehead into Keith's shoulder, "Ba-"

"Oh my god, what?!"

Lance paused for dramatic effect, taking Keith's head in his hands. "Your face is like a god's art project."

Keith's face scrunched up in confusion, as if he was registering what the fuck he just said. He shot a couple glances over at him out of the corner of his eyes. "Are you drunk?"

Lance's eyes drifted in thought, "I might be a little high off my meds."

"Of course you are," he let out a snarky laugh. Lance played with Keith's ear as he inspected his face. Keith kept checking on him with quick glances, "I—uh—I don't know how to handle you right now."

"Oh," Lance giggled, "it'll wear off in a little bit."

Keith picked up his phone to look at the screen, "Okay, we're gonna be stoppin' in about an hour, so" he returned the phone to the cup holder, "try not to kill us before we get there."

"Okay," Lance dragged his reply out and ended it with a drunk snicker. Plopping back down in his seat, he continue his dramatics. "Hey, you are, like, major difficult with the whole," he motioned with flamboyant hands, "thing."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Lance brought his legs up to rest on the dashboard, "With the relationship thing." He leaned his tilted head toward him in thought, "I never know what you're thinking."

Keith raised an eyebrow, "I think you should stop before you say something you don't want to."

Lance rubbed the windshield with his foot, "Yeah, you're probably right."

Keith leaned over and pat his thigh, "Just get some sleep while it wears off."

Lance dropped his hands in frustration, "See, like that!"

"What?!" Keith's voice sounded angry, but his face looked amused.

He leaned his seat back and closed his eyes, "You make it hard to not touch you." And he quickly drifted off to sleep in the silence that followed.

Keith shook him awake, "Lance we're here."

"Hm? Oh." Lance had grown accustomed to waking up in the car. His body reacted out of mundane habit as he stretched and stepped out of the car. To his surprise, he was immediately greeted by a wave of the late sun and rush hour traffic noises. They were in a parking garage lit up by artificial yellow light. "Keith?"

Keith retrieved the suitcases from the car with a strained grunt, "Yeah?"

"Where are we?" Lance turned around to scan the area. It was evening, but he could hear the city bustling with activity.

Keith smirked and shut the trunk of the car, "Keep the book close, you'll need it here."

"Okay," he reached into the back seat to retrieve his backpack. He pulled out the copy of Me Before You, "But where are we?"

Keith held out a hand for him and motioned to the luggage. "New York City."

Keith led Lance into a building with a cozy lobby. Beside the front desk was a wall of books; beside that was a little reading nook with two chairs on each side and a painting above a matching couch. Keith took care of the talking like he usually did and they went up to their room.

It was petite and cozy; windows displayed the view of the city from the top floor. A large desk with a small bookshelf and vase of red flowers sat along the opposite wall. Lance loved every bit of it, but there was a small issue. In the middle of the room, under three decor frames, lied a king-sized bed. One king-sized bed. Lance inspected the space, but it only held the pretty bedroom and an elegant bathroom off to the side.

Keith tossed his bag onto the bed, "You like it?"

His face lit up with a smile, "I love it." The thing he loved most about it was how much he knew they were going to be forced to be around each other, but he would never tell Keith that.

Keith took Lance's suitcase from him to put it on the bed beside his own, "This place is called The Library Hotel." He motioned to the room, "This is the Mythology Room." He pointed to the book in Lance's hand, "I told you to pack your favorite love story, and you did. This is where that comes into play."

Lance inspected the book, watching the light glare across the shiny covers, "And how exactly?"

Keith sat down in the small armchair next to the bathroom doorway. He motioned for Lance to join him with a stoic hand, "Come here."

Lance giggled and sat down in his lap, wrapping one arm around his neck and dangling his feet over the armrest. Keith moved the hair away from his eyes and cupped his cheek, "You'll see tomorrow."

Lance groaned and rolled his eyes, "I'm tired of waiting."

When he tried to stand, Keith latched onto his waist and held him down. Between their laughing and playful insults, they wrestled in the tiny armchair. Eventually, Lance held his hands up in surrender and begged for mercy.

Keith laughed and kissed his forehead before returning to unpacking. Lance took a shower first and put on the robe and slippers. When he was successfully comfortable, he retrieved his bag of beauty products and started his skin care routine. Every few seconds, he would watch Keith in the room through the bathroom mirror. He maintained a content grin on his face as he walked about the room to get settled in. Lance was opening his moisturizer when he walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Lance stood there in an stunned panic, unsure if he should leave or just pretend Keith wasn't taking off his shirt right in front of him. Eventually, he couldn't resist letting his eyes drift over and admire Keith's skin anymore.

Keith's back was muscular and his shoulder blades were chiseled from his body. Lance thought his skin was much too light for someone who had lived in Texas their whole life, but he didn't mind it. His hair framed his neck and tapped his shoulders as it clung to the fabric of his shirt collar. Lance was kicked from his daze when Keith started to unbuckle his jeans. He quickly turned his blushing face away and shielded his eyes until he heard the shower curtain open and then close. He struggled to hurry up and finish so he could leave and shut the door. Embarrassment had replaced the wonder in his veins—one he had never had to deal with.