All For You {College AU Klance}

A Taste of Home

(Lol motivation has actually found me today).

{Lance's POV}

He was fucking exhausted. Not even 24 hours after his group had been assigned the project, and with three weeks left to finish, he was stressed as hell. His group was a literal, all-over the place bunch. Of course he got landed with them. He couldn't have been with reasonable people. Or even people who would actually end up contributing to the project. At least he had Emerton. He should actually probably be thanking the stars that he had Emerton. While the les wasn't the best at coming up with ideas, at least he could talk to his roommate about the project. And she would pull her weight when it actually came to work.  And speaking of the project...                            His phone was buzzing, the contact 'Mega Bitch' on screen. That meant it was Madison. Lance sighed loudly, before accepting the call. "Hey, Lance." Lance cringed, already hating her high-pitched voice. "Hey, Madi-" "So, we need to talk about the group project." Madison interrupted. "I have this favorite coffee place, it's called Paladin's. I was thinking everyone could meet there at nine. K? Bai!" The call ended, and Lance groaned. That was Madison, but that didn't make it any better. Lance pressed his phone's homebutton and checked the time. 8:40. At least he had time to get ready. Oh, wait. Lance had slept in his clothes, to anxious and wound-up to get rid of them. Yeeting back into his room, Lance grabbed his lucky jacket and shrugged it on. Wow, look at how prepared he was. Lance went back to the kitchen, picking up his phone and texting Emerton. She was either flirting with some hotties, jogging, or aimlessly riding around town. Hey fam.' 'Hello you weird man' 'WEIRD LES' 'HOW DARE YOU, YOU BI TRAITOR' Lance laughed. Now this is why he was thankful for her. 'Madison got u fam?' 'Ye ye, Em. You heading over there?' 'Ye ye, Lan man'. Lance smiled, and opened the door of their dorm. 'Look out Madison. I'm coming.'

*                                                                                                   *                                                                                             *

After a half-hour walk, Lance finally got to the cafe. It had taken google search many attempts, but it had finally found the local store. Lance saw his table, and pretended to actually be excited to approach them. Madison was on her phone, probably on Tinder or googling Dr. Phil's latest video. Oh yeah. And then there was Chad. Madison might be a bad slacker, but she was nothing compared to her asshole of a boyfriend. Chad was the kind of person who would write an essay about a bad rumor of you, print it up, and then pass it up to your crush. There was no amount of profanity that could sum up how much Lance hated Chad. But at least he already had Emerton here to help him. She had already been here a while, which was indicated by how furiously she was turning her rubix cube through her hands. She looked up at him, blonde-black hair whipping and searching for a distraction. The pure relief and joy in Emerton's green eyes was enough to make him chuckle. Lance slid in the booth seat next to her, and whispered "Make any plans with the idjits yet?" she shook her head. "No, they've been talking about 'Desperate Housewives' for the past twenty minutes." Normally, she liked that show. But apparently after sitting to two dumb-asses talk about whether it actually had promise or not, her opinions were up for consideration. That's when Lance decided to step in. "Hey, guys." he stated, drumming his fingernails on the table. Both looked at him, obviously annoyed. "What were you thinking we would do for this assignment of ours?"  "I dunno" shrugged Chad. "Don't we like- have to make a presentation on a famous artist or whatever." "Yeah." Lance was amping up his patience, using one of his most charming smiles. "I was gonna ask which artist we wanted to do- and what materials we would need to make the art that we would make to go along with the presentation." "Umm..." Madison was obviously deep in thought, probably overworking her brain's small capacity. "Hello, my name is Keith, can I take your order?" Lance looked up, only to find their extremely hot waiter. He had raven-black hair, pale skin, and was wearing a red shirt with the restaurant's logo under his gold and green standard apron. But his eyes. Damn. His eyes. They were violet, extremely rare.  And now that he saw it, beautiful. The bright pop of color contrasted again his paleness, making them stand out even more. They mixed in with the dark color of his hair, making him look older than he probably was. "Yes, can we have a basket of biscuits to split?" Emerton asked, snapping Lance right out of his trance (ha that rhymed). "Sure, anything else?" Lance distractedly ordered Cuban Espresso, just wanting to make fun of it and compare it to his mama's. The other man left, and Lance felt his bi panic subside. "I think I'll do a collage." Madison said, breaking the stranger's leftover spell. "I'll do a mandala." Chad shrugged. Emerton was still twisting her rubix cube furiously, anxiety still prominent. "I have all the things I need to do a regular painting, so I think that's my best option." Lance was the only one left, expectant eyes falling on his figure. "Watercolors and pastels. Those are easiest for me." The awkward silence proceeding that statement was broken by the extremely hot waiter returning to their table and bringing them their coffee. Lance, suddenly parched, reached out for the fresh liquid. He wrapped his fingers around the mug, and took a sip. Excitement and confusion filled Lance, as the taste of the coffee filled him with familiarity. The taste brought him back to the soft beaches, his mom's cooking, and the loving embrace of siblings. Not being able to control himself, he started gulping down his coffee, wanting more of that incredible, nostalgic taste. By some luck, he didn't burn his tongue, though it would have been well-deserved. He stopped when the mug was halfway gone, and finally looked up. The waiter had just broken eye contact, and was now looking shamefully down on his ankle boots. He then walked away, going toward what Lance now assumed where the kitchens. Emerton just looked concernedly over at him, obviously confused. A quick figure ran to their table, dropped a basket of biscuits, and left. Lance looked, and saw it was their waiter. As the rest of the group discussed what artist to research, Lance thought about the coffee. And the waiter. And the home-y atmosphere he hadn't even noticed when he walked in. Lance thought he'd come back. Y'know, for some coffee.

(Ice Cream awaits me. Goodbye.)