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“You should light the fire,” Lance suggests, purely out of boredom.
“Hmm?” Keith hums without looking up from his book.
He’s had his face buried in the thing for the past hour, while the summer air mellowed and the crickets’ chirps slowed to match. As nice as the sight is—his husband stretched out in the folding chair, hair pulled back into a messy bun to keep the frizz out of his face—Lance is dying for attention.
“The fire pit. Are you planning on getting it started before the sun sets?” he repeats with just enough sass to pique Keith’s interest.
The remark gets Lance the exact reaction he was looking for: a quirked eyebrow, a small smirk, a spark of challenge in Keith’s eyes. “And what’s stopping you from lighting it?”
Lance shrugs, playing coy in the way he only ever does to get a reaction out of Keith. “You’re better at it than I am.”
Keith rolls his eyes, already shaking his head at his partner’s nonsense and turning back to his book. “Bullshit. You're just bored and too lazy to get your ass out of the chair,” he chastises, but his voice is too fond for Lance to take any offense at the low blow.
“Uh, rude,” Lance gasps in feigned indignation. “Have you considered that I might want to see your ass out of the chair, being all rugged and resourceful?” Lance tries, resorting to full-on flattery now that Keith is totally onto his schtick.
“Sweet talk isn’t going to work. I just started this chapter and want to finish it tonight.”
So Lance turns to bargaining.
“I’ll make the s’mores so your gloves don’t get sticky.”
“Or I could take them off and make my own—just like I did last night,” Keith retorts, as he turns the page.
“I’ll pack up the whole tent while you walk Kosmo in the morning,” Lance offers.
(The word walk spurs the usual flash of blue fur as the space wolf materializes between them, eager to rejoin Lance in their endless battle for the half-galra’s attention.)
Honestly, Lance knows it’s a bad deal. It’d be much easier to just light the damn fire rather than get up at dawn to wrangle their tent back into its bag by himself. But, at this point, Lance is mature enough to admit that he’d talk his way into any number of tedious chores just for the privilege of bickering with Keith for a few minutes.
“You say that now, but you’ll still be asleep by the time we get back,” Keith scoffs, letting one hand fall to the side to soothe Kosmo.
(Lance would never be able to prove it—he’s tried, and made himself look crazy in the process too many times to bother anymore—but he’s sure Kosmo is giving him a smug look right now.)
Lance sighs, knowing Keith is absolutely right. It leaves him with no other choice but to bring out the big guns.
“How about I convince Kosmo to sleep in the bed of the truck, so we have the tent all to ourselves.”
That gets Keith’s attention.
Kosmo whines in confusion when Keith’s hand stills. It’s kind of cute how torn his husband looks at the proposition, as if Lance were talking about making an actual child sleep outside instead of a 200-pound space wolf that literally fought alongside them in a war.
Keith closes his book, and it’s enough of a confirmation to make Lance's heart jump in excitement.
“We have to be on the road by seven…” Keith states as if he hasn’t already made up his mind.
“Hmmm,” Lance acts like he’s considering the counterpoint as he stretches out in his chair, making a point to look as comfortable as possible to help his case. “You should probably hurry up and get the fire going in that case…”
But Keith stays put, the book long forgotten. His eyes are too busy boring into Lance with that intense stare—the same look that used to piss off the former blue paladin to no end, until he eventually realized it wasn’t a challenge.
The look that had still confused the hell out of him for a few more months after that, until Keith finally decided to use his words instead of glaring at Lance from across the breakfast table every morning.
Needless to say, Keith was not glaring.
Now that Lance knew what to look for, he could see the gears turning. Keith was weighing his options, calculating his next move. And Lance had a sneaking suspicion that none of the ideas floating around in there involved making campfires anymore.
“I’ll throw some blankets in the back of the truck and get Kosmo set up,” Keith decides, moving into action as soon as the words leave his mouth.
Lance can’t help but laugh, a little flustered but mostly delighted by how well the silly flirting still works on Keith. He has absolutely no qualms about getting more attention than he bargained for, but just for fun, he still sticks his leg out to block Keith’s way.
“Slow your roll, hotshot,” Lance teases, “what about my fire?”
Keith wrinkles his brow in confusion, like he's already five steps ahead and can’t understand why Lance is still on the topic. “We had smores last night,” he states.
“True, but what about for warmth?” Lance asks, even though it’s the middle of June.
Keith must catch on to his game then, smirking as he leans down to give Lance a peck on the cheek and whisper, “I’ll keep you warm.”