#but this fic is so long that im losing track 😭😭

[autisticlancemcclain]

wip tease

i got an ask about childhood friends to lovers klance and i got SO carried away with it so here’s a piece of the fic. 

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Lance cries a lot. More than Keith has ever known anyone to cry. He cries every time they watch Bridge to Terabithia (which is frequently, and he also made Keith pinky swear the first time they saw it to never swing over an overflowing stream in the spring). He cries when he sees someone kill a bug (at least three times a week). He cries when Keith has to go back from his house to the group home (he won’t tell anyone, but Keith kind of likes that Lance is so sad about Keith going back. He doesn’t like that Lance is sad, of course, but he likes feeling wanted. It’s nice).

One place where Lance doesn’t cry so often anymore is the supermarket, though. Keith vividly remembers the first time he had gone with Lance and Marcela one Saturday morning — Lance had made up a whole silly song about running errands with his mom (he still hums is every time they go. Keith won’t tell Lance — he’ll get all smug about it — but he finds it kind of funny).

It had started out fine. Marcela opened up her grocery list (it was really long, Keith noticed. He imagined it unrolling to the floor and bouncing down the aisles, like in the movies), idly narrating to the boys what they needed. 

“And, if you two are good, I’ll get you a treat,” she’d promised. Lance lit right up, immediately chattering about all the different candies and chocolate bars they could get. Keith wasn’t yet sure if he should get his hopes up. 

Everything was fine for the first twenty minutes. Lance started up their space game, and they pretended every other shopper was a trickster alien pirate in a space mall, and they had to pretend to be one of them to get special parts for the castle spaceship. Marcela found their game amusing, and occasionally piped up with suggestions. Keith particularly liked her idea where they had to use ‘disguises’ consisting of silly hats and sunglasses from the clothes department. But after those twenty minutes, Marcela turned the cart into the meat aisle, and Keith saw Lance’s chin start to tremble.

Oh, boy.

You see, Lance loves all animals. All of ‘em. He likes the birds and the cats and the cows and the fish. He especially likes bugs (he even likes mosquitoes, which Keith thinks is bonkers. Lance isn’t the first person he’s met who likes bees or spiders, but he’s the first person he’s met who’d rather endure a mosquito bite than kill the stupid pest). He loves them enough that the idea of killing and eating them makes him incredibly sad. And looking at meat… never bodes well for him.

Marcela sighs quietly, having likely anticipated the tears, and Keith gets an idea.

“Mrs. Marcela,” he started politely (she won’t let him call her Mrs. Esposita-McClain, but he’s not comfortable enough to drop the title. So they compromised), “can Lance and I take a piece of the grocery list and go get them for you? And then we can meet up with you later?”

Marcela glanced over at Lance, who was staring forlornly at the beef with watery eyes, and back at Keith. A slow smile spread across her face.

“Do you have your watch on you?”

Keith nodded, holding up his wrist.

“Okay, then. Watch my purse for a sec.” 

Keith dutifully stood by the cart and her purse, reaching over to pat Lance gently on the head without looking. Marcela stepped over to the end of the aisle, grabbing one of those plastic grocery baskets, and hurried back.

“Here,” she said, handing Keith the basket. She tore off a piece of the grocery list and gave him that as well. “You boys go grab what’s on that list. Meet me at the self-checkout in 25 minutes. Don’t talk to strangers except for employees, and even then, only if you have to. Okay?”

Keith nodded, tugging Lance along to the first aisle he sees. Lance sniffled, turning to face Keith for the first time. 

“Where’re we going?”

“To get groceries.”

“What about mamá?”

“She said it’s okay. We have to meet her in 25 minutes, though.”

The independence seemed to light a fuse in Lance, tears evaporating off his face. 

“Really? We get to get the groceries?”

“Some of them,” Keith replied, smiling a little. 

Lance beamed back, and something settled in Keith’s chest. He liked it better when Lance was smiling.

“Woohoo! Let’s go!” He grabbed Keith’s hand and tugged him away, chattering about their ‘new mission’. He was so excited he forgot to say goodbye to Marcela, so Keith waved for both of them. She was laughing.

Twenty-five minutes later (on the dot), they met Marcela at the self-checkout, Lance pointing out all the things they got “…and the cheaper ones, too, we checked the prices and everything —“

Marcela smiled softly, reaching an arm out to pull Keith close with a squeeze. 

“Leandro’s little protector, huh?” she asked, ruffling his hair.

Keith scoffed, about to remind her that only one of them got into regular fistfights in the schoolyard over insults and bullying and it sure as heck wasn’t Keith, but he paused. 

Yeah, Lance was the one who went feral when some idiot at school insulted the two of them. He might be small and scrawny, but he’s certainly scrappy. Ethan was not the first or last time Lance made someone bleed (he tended to bite). Lance is the one who comes up with revenge to inflict on bullies or mean older kids. Keith’s favourite incident was the time he brought his Nana’s sewing kit and seam ripper to school, along with a container of beaten eggs. He snuck into the classroom during recess, opened the bottom of Nell’s — she was a mean girl who often made horrible comments about Keith’s eyes and Lance’s tendency to wear skirts or pink — backpack, and carefully brushed the beaten eggs all over the fabric. Just enough to cover it, but not soak it. He sewed it back up and stashed the evidence. Over the next few weeks, the eggs in Nell’s bag rotted, but she couldn’t figure out where it was coming from and reeked for days before she finally convinced her parents to get her a new backpack. But by then, the damage was done — she was Smelly Nelly to everyone who knew her. It didn’t exactly stop her teasing, but it certainly made it easier to bear.

But their friendship certainly wasn’t one-sided. Keith might not use his fists, or come up with revenge plans twisted enough to get him sent to the guidance counsellor, but he definitely helped Lance in other ways. He thinks back to every time he wrote down notes for Lance when the lights and sounds were hurting his head and he can’t pay attention. To every time he was a shoulder to cry on, or a distraction.

Maybe he is Lance’s protection, just as much as Lance is his.

“We protect each other,” Keith decided eventually. He’s a little surprised at the conviction in his voice.

Marcela laughs, brushing the mop out of his eyes and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“You’re absolutely right, mijo.”

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