Painted Hearts- Klance AU (Discontinued)

IV

Apparently, at Pidge's and Hunk's and Shiro's and Keith's house —Lance really needed to come up with a better name than that,— they had a large studio on the third floor, where a lot of the artsy stuff was done. It was a large room, that had a lot of open windows and canvases thrown all around it, some big, some small, some painted, some blank. There was many paint stains on the walls and floor, which was almost a feature of the room, not a flaw.

"So I just paint on it?" Lance questioned, looking hesitantly at the umbrella. He had had it for a couple days, but Lance has been busy trying to get his apartment in order, so he's been using a cheap umbrella that'd break any hour now.

"Yeah, like it's any normal canvas." Keith explained.

Lance dipped a paintbrush into the blue paint, and streaked it across the umbrella. He had painted many things before, but never an umbrella. A blue stripe streaked across the surface, then another, and another, as he painted the umbrella. He started adding swirling patterns and lines, and just let his thoughts flow through his brush and onto the umbrella's surface.

"Yeah, you're doing good," Keith complimented.

He's actually kind of nice. Maybe he was just grumpy yesterday or something. Lance thought, looking away from the umbrella and at Keith for a moment. He was wearing a crop top jacket, which was weird. His sense of style was about as odd as his mullet.

Lance kept painting, humming a tune to himself, and soon he had a blue umbrella, covered in navy swirls and white lines. He smiled to himself, and propped it up against a wall. "Lookin' good!" He admired, "Like me." He snapped his fingers and pointed finger guns to nothing in particular.

Keith rolled his eyes.

"I don't know about you, but I'm really craving a milkshake," Lance admitted, thinking of a nice soft chocolate-vanilla milkshake, the kind he made back in Cuba to enjoy on a sunny day. "You guys have ice cream, right?"

"I'm lactose intolerant," Keith stated.

"That sucks, sorry. Guess that means you don't want a milkshake?" Lance asked. 

"Make me two," Keith ordered.

"Don't you get sick?" Lance asked.

"Make me two," Keith reiterated, and that either meant he didn't care about his lactose intolerance or he was planning suicide via. milkshake.

Lance put the paintbrush in the water to wash off later, and started heading down the two flights of spiral staircases to the kitchen. He opened the stainless steel freezer, looking for the ice cream. "How many packages of Eggo waffles do you guys ask?" Lance thought aloud, after pushing a box of homestyle waffles aside to find more lying underneath.

"The ice cream isn't in there," Keith stated, leaning over the railing on the staircase, looking down at Lance.

"This is the freezer." Lance pointed out. Where else would the ice cream be?

"Shiro doesn't let us have ice cream since I'm lactose intolerant, but I have a stash in my room for us," Keith admitted, and started heading up the stairs, and down a hallway.

"What, is Shiro like your overly strict dad or something?" Lance asked sarcastically. He closed the freezer door, and started heading up the stairs to follow Keith.

"Older brother, actually," Keith responded. Their feet hit the stairs to a rhythm, one after another, one, two, one, two. 

"I think Pidge should be coming back from work soon, we should make them a milkshake. What flavors does she like?" Lance asked.