overs

Lance felt awkward on the block-and-a-half drive from his house to Keith's. He felt awkward when Keith hugged him hello, smiling broadly and smelling earthy and wonderful. Keith's hands were dirty and his knees were dirty and he'd been weeding his garden. Lance had never known Keith to be a gardener, never known Keith to get dirty and he secretly thought that this strange, smiling, messy, relaxed Keith was kind of scary. The fucker was glowing. Glowing! Like the fact that the war was over and they were here, on Earth, at home at long last and they wouldn't have to fight for the GG for a good long while (or at least a couple years), had turned on Keith's inner sun. Lance felt like he was going blind just looking at Keith's face.

Not like any of that -- the changes, the glowing Keith, the fact that Lance felt kind of like a tool because he knew he was really there just for sex -- stopped him from smiling back at Keith and sitting down at the little table in Keith's breakfast nook and taking the proffered lemonade. Or stop him from wanting to throw Keith down on the table and get himself some nookie.

Heh. Nookie in the Nook, Lance thought. And then, Lemonade? The fuck? When did Keith go domestic?

"Hey. Haven't seen you in a while." Keith smiled and sat down. His hands were clean, mostly, and when he brushed Lance's cheek, Lance could smell the soap Keith had used. It wasn't really sexy, but it was part of that Keith-smell so Lance got hard anyway. "You been avoiding me?"

"Eh. You know. I have to get my house in order."

And that was mostly true, even though that task had taken him all of five minutes. Besides, it wasn't exactly like he hadn't seen Keith; he'd come over every day since they'd come back and had an afternoon quickie with the new, oddly relaxed Keith who apparently didn't want anything more than a five o'clock blowjob. True, he hadn't come around last week, because it was. Well, quite frankly, it was just really weird to pop over and maybe screw around, maybe just make out. It wasn't like it had been back on Arus, where they hadn't really fucked so much but just kind of leaned on each other to forget the pains of the day.

Now though.

Well, now it -- them, their whole thing -- was weird. Because now their mutual buddy-fuck system had...well, it hadn't evolved, really, as it had just sort of redefined itself. Because they were doing couple-type stuff, now, like eating out and seeing movies together, which was really odd and maybe not so much fun because Lance fucking hated those weird ass French films Keith seemed to enjoy so much. But they also did normal buddy stuff too, like watching the game together, and going down to the corner bar and throwing darts and playing pool. Only the "normal" stuff felt strained, the jokes stale, their smiles too smiley and tight. And they seemed to be doing more couple stuff these days or just having a nooner at Keith's house, a drive by blow job, an oil change on Lance's way home.

He remembered when home was with Keith, and that made him feel sad because that time wasn't that long ago. Now fucking Keith felt like a habit that he'd out grown.

"So." Keith plucked at the dirt underneath his nails. In the old days, that used to mean Keith was trying to calm down before he went nuclear and did some serious carnage. Lance didn't know what the motions meant to this new Keith. "Do you want to do something tonight?"

Lance shrugged. "I guess."

"Okay." Keith nodded, slowly. "Okay. Um. How about dinner? I hear they do great ribs at that place down by the theatres. You know, Dixie's? They do seafood too."

"Sounds good." Lance took a sip of lemonade -- and it was honest-to-god real lemonade, made from lemons instead of that powder crap -- and wondered if maybe he should go. Or maybe he should kiss Keith. Or maybe he should just sit here and feel horny and uncomfortable and thinking unpleasant thoughts about what he was doing, where he was going, and did he remember to change the oil in his car?

He didn't know what he was supposed to do any more. He didn't know anything anymore.

"Okay. Hey. There's a game on." Keith nodded toward his living room and rose. He moved with an unconscious grace, one that Lance thought Keith had only recently acquired, because Lance couldn't remember Keith ever moving quite like that before.

Lance followed and they sat on the couch and watched the game. And then they watched a movie, and Jeopardy and they shouted out all the wrong answers, even to questions that they knew. And then there was a documentary on sharks, and then one on snakes and then Crocodile Hunter was on. Then Iron Chef, which Keith had always thought was stupid but Lance had the clicker so they watched it anyway. And when Lance looked out the window, the sky was a purple-rosy blanket and the day had drifted away.

We should go, Lance thought, and he looked down, and they had some how become entwined, and were lying side by side on Keith's couch. It felt like the old days, like the odd down period on Arus when there was nothing to do but relish the empty hours and each other's heat. He knows they make a beautiful pair like this, their long bodies bending around each other, fitting the other's curves perfectly, Keith's head resting comfortably on Lance's chest. Lance knew this because he has a picture of them like this that Hunk took of them in the rec room in the Castle of Lions; he kept it on his beside table. But he never really thought about how beautiful Keith was on his own until he saw Keith's hair spreading across his chest in ebony waves

Keith was absorbed by the documentary on vinyl siding they'd stumbled across in their random flipping, so Lance didn't think Keith realized how they've sort of...melded together. He didn't think Keith could feel his breath hitch, either, as he swallowed the sudden lump of undefined emotion that clogged his throat. He did think, though, that maybe Keith realized that he was absently stroking Lance's side, just barely avoiding the ticklish spots. Lance thought that they were strangely comfortable together then frowned because the way they fit so neatly together shouldn't be so strange.

"Hey," Lance said, though he really just wanted to snuggle down and hold Keith closer and never let go. "Hey. We should get going."

"Okay." Keith stretched back against Lance and rolled off the couch. "Lemme just grab my wallet."

Lance nodded and stood and went outside where it was cool enough for him to forget Keith's heat.

"What'cha doing?" Keith asked when he finally appeared. Lance glanced at him, briefly. Keith had changed and for a person who had spent a large portion of his life dressed in truly hideous red jumpsuits, Keith was actually a pretty snazzy dresser. And, fuck, Lance was hard now and wanted to drag Keith back into the house and fuck him senseless.

"Just, y'know, thinking."

"Hmm. You should probably stop before you hurt yourself." Keith grabbed Lance by the neck and pulled his head down and gave him a noogie. Lance swatted him away, laughing, and thinking about how much he had missed this.

"Let go. C'mon, man, you're messing with my look!" Lance pushed at Keith's body, not really serious about driving the other man away. Keith gave him one last knuckle-rub and then released him.

"Fucker," Lance grumbled, giving Keith a mock-glare.

"You know it, baby." Keith swatted Lance on the ass and smirked. "Let's take my car. Better gas mileage."

"Dude, it's like two blocks. We could walk if you're that concerned with saving money on gas."

"Okay, first of, it's about a mile from here to Dixie's and there's no fucking way I'm walking there. Second, well, I don't really have a second. So just get in the car, asshole, or else we're never going to get a table."

"Fine, fine, fine." Lance hopped into the back of Keith's jeep and assumed a slightly snobbish expression. "On ward, James."

"Fuck off, idiot," Keith said, but he was smiling so Lance didn't think he meant it. At least, he hoped Keith didn't mean it, because this was...nice. It'd been so long since their buddy-type stuff hadn't felt like some sort of elaborate foreplay, and since Lance's keen sex-detection skills couldn't find even the slightest iota of sex in the air, he had to assume that this was normal guy talk.

Just in case it wasn't, Lance hopped into the passenger seat because there was no way he was going to get into Keith's pants if he kept up the chauffeur thing.

They talked about nothing on the drive over, and through the five-minute wait, and over the bucket o' crab appetizer and most of their slab o' ribs, which were surprisingly good. They talked about what they were going to do before they were put back into active duty: Lance thought maybe he'd teach a flying class; Keith was going to try for a promotion. They speculated what the other guys were doing and agreed that they should probably call them at some point, check in and what not. They talked about Keith's plan to get a dog -- he wanted a Rhodesian Ridgeback, or maybe an Irish Wolfhound -- and Lance told him how stupid that idea was. Lance was really more of a cat person, and right as he was explaining to Keith that there was no way you could trust something that was always so happy to see you, Keith leaned across the table and kissed him.

Lance stopped talking. Well, actually, it was more like his mouth was still moving but he couldn't get his larynx to work properly because there were a lot of things he wanted to say. Like, what the fuck? And, are you nuts? And, wow. He really wanted to say wow. Because that had been a very nice kiss, kind of sweet and sexy and intimate all at once and Lance wished he known you could kiss like that when he was younger because he would have gotten laid a hell of a lot more.

Keith, though, just sat back and looked a little embarrassed and mumbled something about sauce and romance.

Lance mumbled something back about it being all right. He was blushing he just knew it.

They left not long after that, carrying a lot of uneaten ribs in a little Styrofoam container that said, "have a nice day" with a smiley face. There had been some uncomfortable conversation about the weather while they'd waited for their check, but Lance thought even uncomfortable conversation was better than this way too silent ride back to Keith's house. Lance didn't know what Keith was thinking about, but Lance's thoughts ran in the general direction of "maybe this was a bad idea" and "I think this is over." Because if Lance was going to be honest with himself -- and at this point lies seemed like a pointless exercise in denial -- and he was given the choice between fucking Keith and regaining the friendship they'd had before they'd screwed up the dynamics with sex, he would choose the friendship in half a humming bird's heart beat.

He missed Keith! He missed Keith so much that it hurt to have Keith sitting there beside him, humming tunelessly on the edge of hearing, because that wasn't his Keith. His Keith didn't hum. His Keith didn't lean across a table and kiss him. His Keith hated ribs, hated being messy, hated having to think about what he was going to wear. He missed his anal-retentive, over-protective, workaholic friend, because he had known exactly where he stood with that Keith, he had known just how far to push on their bond, how deep their friendship ran. And maybe this new Keith would let him go just as far, was, in essence, exactly the same as the old Keith. But Lance wasn't going to take this chance, because now Keith was nothing more than a familiar stranger, a man who resembled someone Lance once knew.

Lance sighed and watched the blurred scenery outside. There were too many changes going on right now. There were too many changes, and the one constant he thought he could count on had turned out to be the biggest change of all.

Keith's jeep jerked to a stop and Lance was out of the car before the engine had died. Right now, all he wanted to do was leave. He wanted to go to bed and hope that tomorrow would be better. But Keith grabbed his arm and hauled him into the house before he could even get his keys out of his pants pocket.

"Keith?"

"Shut up, Lance," Keith said before kissing him. And there was nothing sweet about Keith's kiss this time.

Lance didn't know if he was being led or if he was leading but, somehow, they ended up in Keith's bedroom with a trail of clothing marking their passage. Keith's hand were everywhere, practically, and where they weren't his lips were. Lance was burning, felt like he was being branded by Keith's touch, Keith's kiss, Keith's need.

As if he was a visitor, a peeping tom given only the briefest of glimpses, he watched himself get fucked until he screamed. It was a very strange experience on the whole, seeing the process in brief flashes of pleasure: his head thrown back, long neck exposed to Keith's needy, questing lips; Keith panting above him while he begged for...something, though whether he was asking Keith to never stop or to let him go he couldn't tell; their hair mingling together in long, sweaty strands; the look of tender concentration on Keith's face right before he made Lance think about creating a new religion based entirely around having sex with Keith.

Lance wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel when they stopped. He didn't know if Keith had sensed Lance's plan to break off whatever it was they had and had fucked him to get him to stay, or if Keith was just incredibly horny. Lance didn't really think the reasons mattered too much, or what he was supposed to be feeling, because that had to have been one of the best fucks he'd ever had.

There was another difference between now and Arus. Sex had never been this good on Arus, never been this intense.

And now he was...Sated. Yeah. That was the word. That was exactly how Lance felt. He was sated and sweaty and sleepy and ready for a shower.

"Lance." Keith stroked the side of Lance's face, and he mumbled more than spoke. "Lance. Lance, Lance, Lance."

"Yes, Keith?" Lance was very proud of the fact that he managed to string those two words together.

"You're here." Keith kissed Lance's chest, right below the collarbone. "It's nice."

"Hmm." Lance closed his eyes and thought about how easy it would be to stay here, let inertia keep him on this bed and below this beautiful, beautiful man who had fucked him just right. But inertia wasn't his friend, because it was inertia that was keeping him with Keith when he knew, he knew, that they weren't right for each other. Not like this. Not in this new way.

So, despite the fact that it took more effort than he really wanted to expend right now, Lance moved and forced himself to sit up and dislodge Keith, who looked at Lance with large, confused eyes.

"Lance?"

"I should. Um. I should go." Lance looked away. "Yeah. It's late."

"No." Keith draped himself over Lance, kissed that soft spot at the base of Lance's neck that sent a shock all the way to his dick, which popped up, took a look around and decided that there were things that were going on that were worth being alert for. "Stay. Please? Stay."

Keith kissed that spot again and Lance's libido won out over his good intentions. Besides, Lance could only find one sock and he didn't think his neighbors would appreciate seeing Mr. Happy at full mast as he streaked from his car to his front door. Why in the world did he buy a house on a hill?

So he stayed, and they fucked in Keith's shower, which was an interesting experience since Keith's shower was glass on three sides and granite everywhere else, and there was a big mirror opposite so they could see themselves. That was really not the best view in the world, and they both agreed, while they were slipping around on Keith's granite floor, that maybe they wouldn't ever screw in the shower ever again. And then they went back and screwed in the bedroom, and then the living room, and then outside because Keith had a nice big hedge, and that was the most sex Lance had had in one session, ever. He was even counting from about age thirteen to twenty-three when he wasn't getting any and had jerked off on an average of four times a day.

With all that sex, Lance should have been exhausted. In fact he should have been in something approaching a coma-like state, completely dead to the world. But he wasn't, because his thoughts were too loud. He still couldn't shake the feeling that what he was doing, what they were doing, was incredibly stupid, that they should have stopped screwing the minute they landed on Earth. That would have been the healthy thing, the smart thing to do.

But they hadn't and so now here he was, lying in Keith's bed at that dead time after one o'clock and before five, listening to the familiar sounds of Keith sleeping. It was strange, he thought, because this was the first time he'd stayed over since they came back; he used to sleep with Keith every night on Arus, mostly because Keith had better blankets and Lance's bed faced the air conditioner. They'd never been particularly romantic together, just comfortable and familiar. Like a good pair of old, worn in shoes molded to fit each individual bump and curve.

Keith's breathing changed from slow deep breaths to the shallower, hitching noises he made when he was waking up. Lance closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He didn't think he could deal with Keith right now.

He needn't have bothered. Keith didn't even look his way, just rolled off the bed and padded away on his surprisingly quiet feet. Lance waited until he heard the soft click as the door closed behind Keith's still naked body before he rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

What should he do? Should he leave? Should he stay? He didn't know.

Things had been simpler on Arus. There he had known exactly where he stood in Keith's eyes: right after Black Lion and, usually, right before Hunk's Death-by-Ten-Tons-of-Chocolate-Ultra-Fudge-Double-Scoop-Chocolate-Chip-and-Peanut-Butter-Sugar cookies -- although, really, sometimes it was touch-and-go with the latter, because Keith had a weird thing about cookies. And it had been really easy to not fall in love with a man who placed you after a piece of machinery. Besides, Keith had always been kind of...not all there on Arus. There was always a small part of Keith that was thinking about Arus' defenses, and boy was that hell on the sexual vibe thing. There was many a time when Keith would be whispering dirty little things into Lance's ear as the did the horizontal tango and right between growling "so fucking tight" and "you know you like it" Keith would suddenly blurt "fuel cell rotation! That's it! That's how we'll boost the energy output!" and then the mood would be ruined until Keith did that funny thing with hips that Lance had spent hours trying to figure out but never could, but the basic result was that it turned Keith's cock into a lodestone and Lance's happy button was its magnetic pull. Whatever else was going on when Keith did the hip-thing didn't really matter.

And that - -- what they'd had on Arus - -- had been perfectly all right because Lance wasn't looking to fall in love. He was looking for exactly what they had: a nice, comfortable, worn in friendship with really good sex as a happy fringe benefit. Now, though, Keith didn't have anything else to concentrate on but Lance. That. That was kind of scary actually. Lance didn't think he would like being the focus of all of Keith's attention. Besides, now that Black Lion was out of the picture, Lance had the sneaking suspicion that he was the top of Keith's little list, easily beating out Hunk's cookies.

He needed.

He needed to talk to Keith. He needed to know where he stood. He needed to stop thinking so he could actually have a think, as awkward and irrational as that sounded. He needed for everything to be over so something new could begin.

Mostly, though, he needed to know he wasn't alone.

So Lance rolled out of bed and followed his Keith-detect-o-meter to the kitchen where Keith stood, looking soft and beautiful in the yellow light of the open fridge, and ate cold, leftover ribs.

Lance stared for a good long moment as sudden understanding hit.

Keith had changed, but not in the way Lance had thought. Keith hadn't become a new, strange person once they hit Earth. He'd just become...soft, lost some of his need to know, to be in control, to be aware of everything that was going on around him. Keith had loosened up, let out some of the tight rein he kept on himself. He'd become more of who he was because he could. He didn't have to exist within the rigid lines of command anymore.

How easy it would be to fall in love with Keith, now. How easy, and how terrifying because love was terrifying and being in love with Keith frightened Lance so much he broke out into cold chills.

Keith turned, alerted by some sense to Lance's presence, and smiled a slow, happy smile.

"Hey," he said. "I was just getting a snack. D'you want something?"

Yes. Yes, Lance wanted everything. He wanted the sex, and the long afternoons on Keith's couch, and the sweet kisses in the restaurant. He wanted the noogies and the old, comfortable jokes, and the hours spent in the corner bar playing pool. He wanted Keith, all of Keith, even those anal retentive parts that had allowed Lance to fool himself into thinking he wasn't in love.

"I." Lance licked his dry lips and cleared his throat. He walked over to Keith in a dreamy not-there way.

"Here. Have a rib. I think they're best when they're cold."

"I. I'm sorry," Lance said. "For being an ass."

"Okay," Keith said. He had BBQ sauce in the corner of his mouth.

"I love you," Lance said. "I think I've been in love with you for a very long time."

"I know," Keith said. "I've always known. I was just waiting for you to figure it out."

"Oh."

Lance looked down at the rib Keith had given him. He didn't have to ask if Keith loved him back, because he knew already. Maybe he had always known. Maybe it was because Keith was the only one who fit him just right, in every way. Maybe it was just because only love could make Keith choose him over Hunk's cookies.

He looked back at Keith, who had turned away and was looking in the fridge again. For the first time in a long, long while Lance felt truly comfortable in Keith's presence. There were problems, sure, and there were things about Keith that Lance couldn't stand (his passion for French movies for a start) and that he didn't understand, not yet. But that was okay. Everything was going to be...better. Not perfect, probably not even okay all of the time, but better.

It looked like they weren't quite over yet.

Time Flies