[ His throat feels tight. He hadn't expected--this. Hadn't expect Keith to open up this much. The moment feels vulnerable, even sitting here in an empty hotel bar. ]
Nobody's perfect at dating, Keith. We just...get better at dating each other.
[ Mutually not wanting to hurt each other is a good start, right? He lets his hand slide forward along the bar counter until it rests halfway between them--wondering if maybe Keith will pick up the physical cue before the verbal one. ]
[Keith's eyes widen at the extension of the hand, and he beats down the need to dismiss it, to act like it's not there. He might have before. Or maybe he would've waited for Lance to be more verbally obvious.
The reality is that in pretending it hadn't happened, he wanted to get rid of the hurt. He felt like an idiot. He couldn't communicate how it was that he wasn't ready, just that he wasn't. Navigating other people is hard.
He just ... honestly feels like Lance gets it. At least a little more. It's not something that needs to be assumed—it just is. It's out there. He needs help, and he's willing to put everything into something to make it work, whether it's friendship, or a mission, or a path he's been forced on (and forced off).
So—Keith's hand comes to cover Lance's, a little awkwardly, but fingers crossing fingers, before he squeezes Lance's hand.
There's a moment where Keith is thinking that he has to say something, but the words don't come. Probably because he's said enough already.]
[ Keith meets him halfway. It feels like that's been the theme since Lance got here, which--positive, right? He runs his thumb over Keith's knuckles, feeling a fizzy, elated feeling overtake him. He's practically giddy from the sharp release of nerves. ]
So. How about that drink, handsome?
[ He definitely just winked...but lets out a self-aware puff of laughter a moment later. ]
[There's a little bit of unspoken relief here, not at the touching of hands or anything like that, but the fact that Lance quickly reverts to some rather ... Lance-like mannerisms. Lance (before) hadn't felt comfortable doing that with Keith. It had been ... one of many bullet points on the list of things for Keith.
It is also one of the things that will likely annoy Keith the most before long. He has layers. Like an onion.]
Lance ... [Drawn out, just a tad.] Yeah, let's get a drink.
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Nobody's perfect at dating, Keith. We just...get better at dating each other.
[ Mutually not wanting to hurt each other is a good start, right? He lets his hand slide forward along the bar counter until it rests halfway between them--wondering if maybe Keith will pick up the physical cue before the verbal one. ]
no subject
The reality is that in pretending it hadn't happened, he wanted to get rid of the hurt. He felt like an idiot. He couldn't communicate how it was that he wasn't ready, just that he wasn't. Navigating other people is hard.
He just ... honestly feels like Lance gets it. At least a little more. It's not something that needs to be assumed—it just is. It's out there. He needs help, and he's willing to put everything into something to make it work, whether it's friendship, or a mission, or a path he's been forced on (and forced off).
So—Keith's hand comes to cover Lance's, a little awkwardly, but fingers crossing fingers, before he squeezes Lance's hand.
There's a moment where Keith is thinking that he has to say something, but the words don't come. Probably because he's said enough already.]
no subject
So. How about that drink, handsome?
[ He definitely just winked...but lets out a self-aware puff of laughter a moment later. ]
no subject
It is also one of the things that will likely annoy Keith the most before long. He has layers. Like an onion.]
Lance ... [Drawn out, just a tad.] Yeah, let's get a drink.