Broken

Push You Out, Pull You Back

Push You Out, Pull You Back

{A/N: Please someone correct my Spanish grammar. I hate Google Translate so I tried it myself. I'm only in Spanish 1, I know practically nothing.}

"And every time I'm about to walk away
Now I stay."

In which Keith and Lance have some bonding time.

"You're gonna love it," Lance grinned, tugging Keith down the sidewalk. At this point, it had been nearly six months since the two first bumped into each other and Lance hadn't backed down, seemingly determined to make Keith his friend.

"I don't even know where you're taking me." Lance rolled his eyes, saying something about how "that was the fun part" and Keith got the message that he wouldn't know where Lance was dragging him until they got there. And so, he let himself be pulled down the street by the teen currently acting like a five-year-old at Disney.

"Can't you just give me a hint?" Keith balked at a crosswalk, trying to keep Lance out of oncoming traffic.

"Nope!" Lance smiled, popping the "p." Keith groaned, though he wasn't minding Lance's hand so firmly clasped around his. Of course, he did nearly spontaneously combust when he was first grabbed, but now his body was back to normal human temperature and he could enjoy things while they lasted.

"Almost there!" Lance pulled Keith along even more quickly, and though Keith was fast, he was struggling to keep up. All the twists and turns plus trying not to trip over Lance's legs was putting a dent in his usual agility.

"Aha! There it is!" Keith looked around, trying to figure out what this magical place could be. He didn't have much time to look before he was practically shoved through a doorway.

The dim lighting of the room took a moment to adjust to after the bright sun outside. (It was odd weather, cold yet insanely sunny. Keith hated it.) When they finally did, he saw Lance making little jazz hands, having finally relinquished his death grip on Keith's hand.

"Welcome to El Taco Loco! Best Hispanic restaurant on this side of the Atlantic." Keith didn't know what to say, so of course, he said the most stupid thing possible.

"They named a restaurant "The Crazy Taco"?" Lance nodded proudly.

"That's because the tacos are crazy. Crazy good, that is. Though I'm partial to the empanadas..."

"You talkin' about my tacos again?" a voice boomed. A stocky man came up to the front seating counter. He boasted a wide grin and and a head full of curly, unruly hair.

"Enrique!" Lance smiled as the man clapped him on the shoulder. Then, turning back to Keith, he said, "He's the owner of this place. Runs the whole thing!" Enrique shook his head. 

"Eh, you know Carmen does more than me," he shrugged. "Anyway, how many today, Lance? The whole family coming in a bit?" Lance shook his head.

"Just me and Keith." He rocked back and forth on his heels. "He's my only friend that hasn't been here yet." Enrique studies the two.

"'Friend,' eh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Lance seemed to read the suggesting look perfectly, as he quickly waved his hands, shaking his head as he did so.

"Don't even start," he grumbled. "I've already got my mama peering over my shoulder, don't need the rest of the family starting." Enrique shrugged, peering down at the seating arrangements of the moment, a sly smirk never leaving his face.

A moment later, Keith was following Lance to a small table toward the back of the restaurant, glancing around at the walls. The whole place was decorated with what seemed to be little trinkets from various countries, several flags lining the walls. Lance was sure to point out the Cuban one to him, grinning as he did so.