Klance - Beat Drop (Complete)

Chapter 9 Mullet and Weirdo

Remember, 5:30

Keith scoffed, and texted back.

dont worry i know

Keith knew that he was the one to be nervous about meeting Lance's parents and family, but the brunette's constant reminders on when to pick him up from the dance studio proved that Keith wasn't the only one.

It had been a week since Lance had slept over, and the two had bumped into each other a few times at Hunk's, laughing it off, and Lance had even stopped by the flower shop when Keith was at work to say hello.

It turned out Lance hadn't been kidding about meeting his family, and so they had made plans. Lance had told Keith a few things over the week to know about his mom and how to impress her. When Keith had asked about Lance's dad, he had merely brushed it off, saying that his father would be fine.

It was a Saturday, so business at the flowershop was running smoothly from customer to customer, especially because of the new products Allura had ordered, including floral beach totes, Vans, and various school supplies for the college students.

Time passed quickly, and honestly, Keith was okay working on a Saturday. Better than sitting at home doing nothing. Keith was closing early, though, because he had to leave to get changed for dinner at Lance's, but he got held up for nearly half an hour, trying to help an indecisive senior wobbling through the aisles of flowers, trying to pick the right one for her granddaughter, who was pregnant, which, while Keith thought was adorable, also ended up making him change into his nice clothes in the back storage room, checking his hair in the floor-length mirror in the dressing room before locking the door and kicking off down the street towards the studio.

Lance had given Keith the address, so it was easy to find, but Keith didn't really come down to this part of town often so he decided to venture inside the studio. He checked his phone. 5:26. He was early.

A skinny receptionist with a tight bun like the ballerinas pointed Keith in a direction down a short hallway when he asked for Lance, and Keith walked slowly down it, peeking into every door. On the third door on the right, Keith found them.

However, his eyes were met by something both beautiful and strange. Lance was dancing, but it wasn't like before. He was dancing ballet. With pointe shoes. Keith watched as Lance, the weird, loud, slightly obnoxious teenager lifted onto his toes, and then over, onto the flat of the pointe shoes.

He twisted to the side, arms arched, then stepped forward, stooping low, one arm behind him. Then off, Lance balanced on one arch as his other leg lifted up, one arm in front, one in back in what Keith only knew from Allura was an arabesque.

Keith pushed the door open, and Lance dropped onto flat feet, surprised.

"Keith," he said, eyes wide. He looked down at his pink shoes and grinned sheepishly, "Lemme change."

Keith quite liked his outfit. Blue leggings with mesh over his calves to his thighs, a periwinkle off-the-shoulder shirt. Lance looked pretty.

Lance walked to the changing room, and Keith looked at his own reflection in the studio's wall-length mirror, a wooden bar cutting across the middle. He messed with his hair a bit, then realized it was just gonna get messy again when he put on his helmet.

A few minutes later, Lance emerged, wearing a grey shirt with dark blue sleeves, jeans, and a white hoodie, unzipped. He carried his jacket, olive green with a large orange stripe on each sleeve.

A duffel bag and his jacket hung from his elbow, and he had swapped his pointe shoes for Adidas. The two walked outside, and Keith turned to Lance, quirking an eyebrow.