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People often assumed that Keith disliked Christmas, hated it even. But if you really knew him, you’d know that was far from the truth. It was little things, mostly—small gestures that most paid no mind to. He wasn’t one to go all out and extreme like Lance was—Lance who had his sweaters and lights ready at 11:59 PM on Halloween and changed all their music to being something Christmas-y immediately after—but he still took a careful time arranging the Christmas tree in their living room—a bright plastic purple thing that held more random sentimental ornaments than anything for real aesthetic—and let Lance teach him to pick Deck The Halls on the guitar.
He hummed along whenever All Time Low’s Merry Christmas, Kiss My Ass or Fall Out Boy’s Yule Shoot Your Eye Out played—songs that Lance had put on the playlist at first to appease his boyfriend’s emoness, whatever that was supposed to mean, but in the end left on because he admittedly found them to be excellent. When Keith went with Shiro and Pidge to go shopping, he stood there and marveled at the lights strung up and grinned at the wreathes crammed into street lights and store windows. When groups of small children came to their door and sang off key renditions of Frosty the Snowman, he praised them and gave out candy canes. He liked scooting slowly around the ice rink at night and teaching Lance how to ice skate.
So yeah, Keith rather liked the winter holidays and all the activities that came with it. But there was one that he excelled at, one where his spirit was completely unquestionable—cookie decorating.
Their friends had long learned not to be there for Keith and Lance’s Great Christmas Cookie Clash. It had become a tradition back when they’d still been juniors in high school, Lance had innocently invited Keith, Pidge, and Hunk to his house to make cookies with his siblings, niece, and nephew by his mother’s suggestion. Things had begun fine, sprinkles were dumped onto stars and yellow squiggles of hair were drawn onto gingerbread cookies.
And then Lance had looked over at Keith’s cookie.
Since middle school Lance had created some sort of ongoing rivalry between them. It had significantly mellowed down into a friendly competition by that time but still burned strong, which was probably why he’d practically screamed when he saw that Keith’s decorating skills were not complete shit—something that was a surprise to both boys.
He personally didn’t think it was anything too extreme, just a few different frostings and some snowflake sprinkles to make a snowy forest on his star-shaped sugar cookie. It was the first time that he’d ever done something like this willingly and with frosting that actually came out of the tube not entirely dried up, and he’d expected to end up with a brown blob of sadness like Nadia currently had. Apparently that wasn’t so, because the next thing he knew Lance was shouting, “This isn’t fair! Hunk, look at this? How does this look so
nice
and
neat
and—Keith you’re not supposed to be good at this too, what the hell man?”
Keith had blinked in surprise. Was that supposed to be a compliment or an angry jab? His cookie decorating clearly wasn’t shit though if Lance believed it was enough to rival his own though, which made him smirk.
“I’m sorry, is something wrong?” he replied innocently. It was obvious what he’d done wrong; he’d made an actually decently done cookie and he was feeling threatened.
It seemed that he was just going to have to get more intricate with them, then. Teasing Lance was fun, the way that the other boy stuttered and included small compliments in his ranting and the way his attention completely focused on Keith alone.
“Oh, it’s so on, Mullet,” Lance said, wagging a finger.
They didn’t talk to each other except to toss empty insults about their decorating skills back and forth, the sole objective to make a cookie that looked better than the other boy’s. It was completely ridiculous, but Keith had never been able to say no to a challenge—or to Lance, for that matter. By the end they had each made five bakery grade cookies that were devoured by Lance’s nephew the moment after Lance’s mom was able to take a picture of them.
That had been the year that what Hunk dubbed as ‘Keith and Lance’s Great Christmas Cookie Clash’ —later on shortened to the Klance GCCC after the two got together in senior year—began. Even now, five years later, the fight went on. Over time the materials became higher grade, Hunk’s frosting tips went missing and debit cards were strained for fancy frosting and sprinkles and other cookie making necessities.
They woke up every Christmas Eve at four in the morning to bake two dozen cookies, one sugar and one gingerbread, would spend the day not speaking and entirely focused on making the best twelve cookies, then invite their friends over later to judge them. From the outside it was a cute couple activity—and perhaps it was, considering that afterwards they’d cuddle on the couch and watch shitty Christmas movies while feeding each other M&Ms. But at the moment it was a war.
Keith fumbled around the dark room now, for the sketch pad where he’d planned out this year’s designs. It was 4:02 in the morning and he was still mostly trapped on the bed, Lance’s legs intertwined with his own and an arm around his waist that seemed to only get tighter as Keith tried to pull himself out. It was warm in their bed and he’d only gotten maybe five and a half hours of sleep, but their alarm had gone off twice already and the oven wasn’t about to preheat itself.
“Lance,” he muttered, poking at the other man’s hand. “Off. We gotta get up.”
“Mmm, how about no,” Lance replied sleepily, rolling over to press his face into Keith’s neck.
Scoffing, Keith turned to face his boyfriend and giving up on his blind search. “Fine. Guess I’ll just get a head start today and kick your ass again. Never thought you were one to surrender so easily.”
Immediately Lance sat up, eyes narrowed but clear of sleep now. “Like hell you are, babe,” he said, pressing a small kiss to Keith’s lips before sliding out of the blankets and into the fuzzy blue lion slippers waiting on the ground. “And besides, I totally won last year.”
Keith almost laughed. Being together so long and being friends for even longer, Keith knew Lance far too well, so he knew exactly what would get him up. “Alright, whatever helps your ego at night,” Keith replied, rolling off the bed on the other side. He tucked the journal under his arm as he pulled a hair tie off his wrist and pulled his hair into a loose ponytail and walked out of their bedroom.
The tile was cold on his as he entered the kitchen but Keith continued to the stove, squinting at the buttons until he set the oven for 450°. It was December and he should not have been so surprised to be immediately freezing his ass off out here, and still he quickly shuffled over to the woven basket in their main room for a blanket. Perhaps he should’ve listened to Lance and just stayed there in his warm arms. Instead he tossed his sketchbook on the couch and walked back into the kitchen.
He was pulling out the ingredients and supplies they’d need—trays, bowls, spatulas, measuring cups, cookie cutters, vanilla, eggs, flour—and the cookie mixes when Lance wandered into the kitchen. His bathrobe was buttoned crookedly and he hadn’t yet brushed out his hair, the natural curls still visible. Keith couldn’t help the small smile on his lips as he watched Lance trip over the uneven gap between the carpet and the tile. He was allowed to watch right now and admire how beautiful Lance looked even at this ungodly hour.
Lance hooked his phone up to the speaker sitting in the corner, far from the center of the counter where it’d be coated in flour and other ingredients. The beginning notes of Jingle Bell Rock began and he waltzed back over to Keith and picked up the box of sugar cookie mix.
Keith always made the gingerbread cookies, Lance made the sugar cookies, a silent tradition that had developed over time. It was something oddly domestic that Keith had never imagined for himself, and certainly not with Lance. And still here they were, baking cookies at four in the morning on Christmas Eve while flicking flour at each other and slow dancing to the My Chemical Romance cover of All I Want For Christmas Is You only half jokingly. It was so dumb and
cheesy
but he couldn’t help but love it.
They quickly had their respective dough mixed and rolled out, and Lance eagerly dumped out the bag of cookie cutters. Keith scoffed as they spread them out, catching numerous stars and snowmen and—
“Is that supposed to be Spongebob?” he asked, pointing to the Spongebob shaped cookie cutter made of bright yellow plastic, eyebrows furrowed. “When the hell did you get
that
?”
Lance’s smile widened and reached out a flour coated hand to poke at Keith’s cheek. He ducked away easily. “Aw, cheer up, Keith, where’s your Christmas cheer? I personally
love
the Spongebob one. And look, this one is Patrick!”
He pointed to another star shaped cookie cutter and Keith scoffed. “Is that one Patrick too, then? They all look like stars to me.” He took the Patrick cookie cutter from him and pressed it into the cookie dough anyway.
“
No
, there’s obviously a difference. See this one is clearly longer on the bottom which is his legs and the top one is also thicker. You’re all artsy shouldn’t you notice these things? See and
this
one…”
Keith grinned as Lance went on explaining the difference between the two cookie cutters, hands throwing flour everywhere and eyebrows equally animate. It was a miracle Lance had so much energy to debate with him this early but still Keith didn’t stop him, instead flicking at a bit of flour that had ended up on Lance’s cheek and taking both cookie cutters. “Alright, sorry, you’re totally right,” he said. “But it sure would be a shame if I were to, I dunno, make this normal star into a Patrick later on, wouldn’t it.”
Lance elbowed him lightly and took one of the mini Christmas tree cutters. “You wouldn’t dare,” he replied. “If you did, I think I’d have to make this tree thing into a… snake thing?”
Keith snorted. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever I guess.”
“Goddammit Keith.”
The rest of the cookie cutting went about the same, light banter and more flour throwing as the sun slowly rose. At seven. There was a reason they started at four, it was rather easy for Keith and Lance to get distracted, whether that be for coffee or a tickling fight or something equally as stupid. And, for Keith, to delay finishing. Because it all stopped when the last of the dough was cut out and placed onto a cookie sheet.
Sure Lance was cute now, all affectionate and adorable, but once the cookies were in the oven, that was not the case. After the cookies were in the oven, they were no longer lovers but enemies. And maybe Keith was being a bit dramatic about it, but for the record Lance was
far
more so. Once the cookies went in the oven Lance was all narrowed, suspicious eyes and random jabs at everything in the form of terrible holiday puns and constant declaration of rivalry. Keith wanted to be annoyed by it, but it was kind of cute when he wasn’t stealing from his dishes of sprinkles. Not that he’d tell Lance that, of course.
Inevitably though, the last cookies were crammed onto the sheet and it was finished. Keith slid the trays into the oven and set the timer. When he turned around, Lance was sitting on top of the counter and completely disregarding the flour that was bound to be coating his pajama pants right now. There was the familiar gleam of competition in his eyes. It sent a shock of excitement down Keith’s spine and he knew the look was mirrored in his own smile.
“You ready to be completely destroyed this year, Kogane?” Lance asked, crossing his arms. “My designs are, as the kids say,
lit
.
Keith grimaced, hiding his face in his hand so Lance couldn’t see the smile. “Oh my god why,” he said in the flattest voice he could manage. He could practically hear Lance’s smug grin. Fine. Let him think that he was going to win this year, he had no idea what Keith had planned.
Saying nothing, Keith picked up his mug of coffee and walked the whole two feet back into their living room, stretching out across the couch and not reacting when Lance sat on his feet and turned on the TV. The best way to irritate Lance when he was trying to irritate
him
, Keith found, was to act indifferent until the other man did something about it himself. And soon enough he did, pushing Keith’s feet off and coming up to snuggle into his side instead
They watched whatever cartoon was on in silence, but when a commercial came on Lance leaned over, whispering into Keith’s ear, “My cookies are gonna sleigh yours, my deer.
Without hesitation Keith replied, “Don’t flatter your elf, we both snow mine are going to be
fir
better.” He tapped Lance on the nose with an innocent smile, relishing the look of shock before turning back to the TV. Why it still surprised Lance when he sprung puns back on him was beyond Keith, but it was nonetheless amusing.
Finally the timer for the cookies went off and both boys sprung up from the couch, practically tripping over each other to get to the oven first. One would think they were two six year olds rather than full grown men.
In the end Lance did, with his stupidly long legs, but Keith had grabbed the oven mitts first and was the one to pull the trays out of the oven. The apartment smelled amazing by now, the back-of-the-box cookie mixes never failed them. He picked up one tray in each hand and set them on the stovetop, ignoring Lance’s muttered
showoff
. And perhaps he was, he didn’t spend all that time at the gym for nothing, after all, and even as alleged enemies he still enjoyed seeing Lance look at him in amazement like that. It was kind of addicting, really.
Lance set the microwave timer for ten minutes and walked over to the pantry to pull out their decorating supplies. “Nine minutes and twenty six seconds until I’m going to completely crush you like ice, candy cane,” he called over his shoulder. Keith just rolled his eyes and pulled bowls out of the cabinet—the dumb Christmas themed ones that Lance insisted on buying, of course.
They were pretty familiar with this routine by now—the equal distribution of toppings to prevent as much stealing as possible, the parchment spread out over their table and the long Christmas playlist on Lance’s phone, which was also charging now. It happened quickly, and before Keith knew it, the timer was being set and it began.
He couldn’t help but feel like he was on one of those stupid Food Network shows whenever they did this, except for competing for a thousand dollars and making an obscure dessert out of gummy bears and avocados against a random stranger it was trying to be more artistically creative with his gingerbread cookie decorating than his boyfriend as the Killers blared in the background. Keith still wasn’t entirely sure how they still hadn’t gotten severe complaints from their neighbors every year, especially with all the shitty music and shouting, but he wasn’t complaining.
Keith peeked in his sketchbook at the page where he’d carefully scribbled out his twelve cookie designs, then back at the supplies before them. Lance had been the one to do the sprinkles shopping this year, but his cookies were still doable. He grinned. Lance didn’t stand a chance this year.
He glanced to the other side of the table and met Lance’s eyes. They exchanged a small smile before completely diving into their work.
Under normal circumstances, Keith didn’t have the patience to sit through a whole two hours doing
one
small thing, such as cookie decorating, but when it came to this it took all of his focus. Everything else disappeared except for the gingerbreads in front of him—the knives and the frosting and the sprinkles. There was no other thought in his head than to make his cookies the best that they could be, the prettiest and the most creative. Better than Lance’s.
Every time that Lance said something in the middle, his mouth replied on autopilot, barely paying attention to his actual words and more focused on a detail in his cookie. He said something somewhere, too, probably, and Lance had replied with an equal amount of distraction. A few times he stole some silver bead sprinkles from Lance’s bowl and snorted when he didn’t even look up from the face he was painting on a cookie with blue frosting. And though their bickering remained, they were still quieter than usual. There was no point in saying that he was going to be better when he was just going to prove it through cookie decorating skills, after all.
He was completely absorbed, startling when the timer went off and Lance shouted time. Keith let out a breath. Somehow he’d finished decorating all of his cookies—and they didn’t look like complete trash, either. He grinned and leaned over to see Lance’s cookies.
Quickly Lance shielded them, shaking his head and pulling another piece of parchment over his cookies. “Nice try, babe, but the rest of the crew isn’t coming for another tenish minutes so no looking. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really have to pee. Don’t try anything, mister, I
will
know.”
Keith scoffed as he watched Lance speed walk back down the hallway and into the bathroom. “It’s not like I
can
do anything,” he called, shaking his head. But still he didn’t try to peek under it and instead walked over to the sink to get a glass of water.
It was always fun making better cookies than Lance, but it always left him exhausted and ready to take a long nap. And that did happen, after their friends came over and judged their cookies. After Keith was crowned victor of the Klance GCCC again, he was going to eat a cookie and take a long fucking nap.
Keith shuffled over to the couch again, letting out a long sigh as he closed his eyes. There was a dip in the couch and he didn’t open his eyes as Lance leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. “You ready to be crowned Cookie Clash loser?” he muttered before squishing in and horizontally lying next to Keith.
“In your dreams, maybe,” Keith replied, letting out another small sigh as Lance combed his fingers through Keith’s hair slowly.
He’d often been told that he was like a cat, always grumpy looking—which, for the record, he was
not
—and independent as hell until he felt like cuddling up to someone. He vehemently denied it, but here he was willing to reluctantly agree with it. Because damn if this wasn’t nice.
They laid like that for a few more minutes, a small reprieve before the next storm began. And then the doorbell rang.
Lance sprung up from the couch, taking Keith with him, and practically skipped to the door. In stepped Hunk, Shiro, Pidge, Allura, and Romelle, each tightly wrapped in heavy winter coats and scarves. It was sort of weird to still be doing this now, the same stupid cookie decorating battle and the same friends—plus a few more that they had made in the past few years—dragged into it to judge the cookies.
“Please let us in,” Pidge said through her scarf. “It’s kinda cold out here.”
Lance stepped aside and the five stepped into the small apartment. Hugs and greetings of
Merry Christmas
were exchanged—
Happy Christmas
from Allura and Romelle though, who refused to use
merry
for just Christmas—and Keith slammed the door shut as to not let more frigid air in.
Eventually they made their way into the kitchen where Lance served drinks and presented this year’s cookies, beaming as their friends looked at them in awe. Keith wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was too. Lance had really gone all out this year, designs more intricate than Keith had ever seen and enough for his breath to catch. There was one in particular, though—a star with just a frosting galaxy and two silhouettes—that really caught his attention. Why, Keith had no idea, and so he moved it to the back of his mind.
“This is absolutely amazing,” Romelle exclaimed. “It’s like I’ve walked into some sort of BuzzFeed video! I am very impressed, I never knew you two had this kind of artistic talent, Keith and Lance.”
Keith was reminded then that this was just the first year that she was actually with them, that they had only known each other for a few months and had never witnessed the GCCC before. He smiled. “I’m glad you like them, it’s great having you here,” he said politely.
“Yeah, definitely,” Lance piped up. “Make sure you vote
me
for the best ones this year, though.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Smooth, Lance,” he said dryly. “Anyways, yeah. Cast your vote wisely and just remember that blue chocolate pearl on that one was stolen from my bowl even though Lance had plenty of his own and is therefore a dirty rotten cheater.
Their friends ignored their antics and began scrutinizing the two plates of cookies, Allura even writing down small notes on each one in her phone. Though it was mostly a Keith and Lance thing, there was no doubt that their friends took it almost as seriously. Cookie judging usually took around twenty minutes in total—probably more time that truly necessary for looking at twenty four frosted Christmas cookies, but nonetheless.
The two of them leaned back on the counter, watching anxiously. Keith watched as Lance’s eye twitched slightly when Shiro poked at a small frosting rose that he put on one of his gingerbread cookies, and he couldn’t help but smile a bit at it. Despite being enemies for the next eighteen or so minutes, until their friends’ votes were in and one of them was declared winner of this year’s GCCC, Lance’s anxious excitement was still adorable.
Keith leaned into his side a bit, not looking away from where Hunk was observing the craftsmanship of one of his better cookies and whispering into Lance’s ear, “I’m going to win this and make you eat the winning cookie.”
Lance bumped their hips against each other and sighed, though the fondness beneath it was still undeniable. “In your dreams,” he whispered back. “You’re just saying that because we both know that mine are
way
better than yours this year.”
“Cut it out you two, there’s nothing that you can say or do to gain a vote anymore,” Pidge said over her shoulder. “And if you’re actually like, playing footsies or doing that weird bicker-flirt thing, that’s not going to do anything either.”
“We were not!” Lance said, wrapping his arm around Keith’s shoulders and pouting. “We would never, right sugar sprinkles?”
Keith gave him a flat look, stuck between laughing and grimacing. “Sugar sprinkles, seriously? I feel like you’re just looking at a My Little Pony OC name generator at this point, what the hell. Please, just stop.”
“Oh, shut up, Keith, I know you love my My Little Pony OC names.”
“Alright, whatever makes you feel like you’re actually going to win this, I guess—gingersnap doodle.”
He said it in complete deadpan, looking directly into Lance’s eyes. It was hard not to crack when Lance stared at him for a moment, incredulous and looking ready to dump the still open bag of flour over his head.
“Keith, you weirdo, I love you so, so much but I—
gingersnap doodle
? Where did that even—? This is unacceptable, I can’t do this right now, I need a minute to process,” he finally said. “For that, you don’t deserve to win the GCCC. Hear that, guys? Keith is unworthy. Yeah, okay your cookies look super pretty and badass but that’s beside the point, you basically just—wow.”
There was a cough from the table, and Allura looked mildly amused when the two looked up. “If you are finished, we have all cast our votes. If you would like to see which of you has
actually
won. Though if not, of course we can just throw the jar out and call it a draw for this year.”
Lance jumped up at a comical speed, eyes wide. “No, no! Give me the jar, I need to
officially
beat him this year.”
“So you admit that I
officially won
last year’s then,” Keith said. Truth be told, he was also rather curious to know whose cookies were better this year, but God if teasing Lance over last year’s win wasn’t fun. Lance began to reply but Keith just shook his head and wrestled the mason jar with five folded up sticky notes out of the other man’s grasp and screwed it open.
Carefully, he pulled each slip of paper out of the jar and unfolded it, sticking them to the table.
The first one, in the unmistakable chicken scratch that was Shiro’s handwriting: Lance. Keith huffed and Lance cheered. The second one was for Keith, Pidge’s handwriting. The third—Keith again, this time from Allura. The fourth, in Hunk’s neat scrawl—Lance.
Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath. So far it was a tie. Keith didn’t really care how it ended up, he was going to be able to curl up on the couch and eat all the cookies with Lance later anyway, but still his hands shook as he unfolded the last paper. It could go either way, Romelle was the most unbiased of the group, the one who had been there the smallest amount of time.
There, in small print at the center of the paper—
Keith.
He turned to meet Lance’s small pout with a grin. “Looks like I’ve won again, maybe next year I guess,” he said.
Lance shrugged. “At least Shiro and Hunk were on my side,” he said. “God this was rigged, I bet it was because you did that cool thing with those little orange things on your Christmas tree. I hate this.” Even as he said it though, Keith watched in amusement as Lance reached over and took said Christmas tree cookie with the orange sprinkles and took a large bite out of it. “Hmm, tastes good though. Probably ‘cause I made it.”
Keith rolled his eyes and took one of Lance’s Spongebob cookies in retaliation. It was scarily detailed, the eyes a vibrant blue with a glean and slightly darker spots around each hole in the sponginess. He shook his head, marveling at how good Lance had gotten at this over the years. Keith had always been pretty artistic, hell he’d gone to college for
art
but when the GCCC first began he knew that Lance could barely even draw a stick figure. And now they were here.
“Anyway, now that that’s over,” Hunk said, pulling the cookies from both his friends’ hands. “I brought chili and you’re going to eat it because I put effort and love into it.” He motioned to the crock pot that he’d carried in and smiled as Keith and Lance sighed and turned to pull bowls from the cabinet.
Through dinner Keith was still riding the high of winning the GCCC for the second year in a row, practically inhaling his chili and participating a lot more in the conversation than he’d normally be, though he knew that the best part was going to be
after
their friends left.
Finally, around seven, the crock pot was empty and Keith was standing at his door with a small wave as his friends descended the stairs and headed to their respective vehicles. Once Shiro had pulled out of the parking lot, Lance was slamming the door shut and unhooking his phone from the speaker. Keith was piling all their blankets and pillows onto the couch, turning the TV on to find whatever shitty Christmas movie he could find. In the end he settled on
Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer
, mostly because it was a better alternative to
Alvin and the Chipmunks: A Chipmunk Christmas
.
A few moments Lance joined him, leaning his head on top of Keith’s as he offered him a bowl of Hershey kisses, something that Keith accepted despite just having eaten. Now that the chaos of cookies was over—now that Lance had accepted his defeat and Keith had time to bask in his victory—they were able to just
sit
. No more cookie competition, no more stress trying to retain his title as the champion, just sitting with his boyfriend while they suffered through terrible Christmas movies and tossed chocolate into each other’s mouths. Yeah, call Keith a sap, but it really was one of the best things in the world.
“What was that about winning this year,” he said, eyebrow raised. He felt Lance breathe a small snort against his back, and Keith curled in further. Soon he was going to be sweating his ass off, with Lance’s body heat and the blanket and the heater cranked up in the apartment, but right now Keith couldn’t care less.
“I still think I won,” Lance replied, kissing the tip of Keith’s nose. “You know why?”
“Because you have a big ego and want to twist it so you’ve won somehow even though I got the most votes and therefore am still the winner?”
“
No,
because after all of it I still get to be here with you. Dork.”
Keith froze, staring at Lance in the dark and letting out a small squeak. Even now, after all this time, whenever Lance said something stupidly cheesy it managed to make his heart race and face burn. It was embarrassing but Keith would never tire of it either. “Oh my god, I cannot believe you,” he muttered into Lance’s side.
Lance only laughed, opening another Hershey kiss and tightening the firm hold he had on Keith’s waist. “Whatever you say, gingersnap doodle.”
Keith scoffed but opened his mouth as Lance tossed the chocolate in. They remained like that for the rest of the movie, occasionally making small bits of commentary whenever a character did something weird and easily finishing the entire bag of chocolate.
“Man, you’d think that for having so much hype and money put into this thing they’d have made this a bit better,” Lance said as he rose from the couch to get the plate of cookies.
Keith snorted. “I think it’s supposed to be a kids movie though, what’d you expect?” he replied.
“I dunno, effort?”
Keith shook his head and slouched into the couch again. He tried not to miss the warmth too much, telling himself that no, you are an independent full grown man not a cat, though he couldn’t deny that he practically shoved away the cookies when Lance came and sat down again. He picked up the sugar cookie that he had noticed earlier—the one with the two people sitting under a galaxy. The more he looked at it, the more details he noticed in it, and though beautiful he also noticed that it was rather different than his usual designs, with their bright, simple, and in your face themes and colors. He nudged Lance in the side.
“Hey, what’s this one?” he asked. “It’s not really within your usual theme. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really pretty, but… you know.”
Even in the dark, he could see Lance’s face flush as he averted his eyes and stared at the TV again. “It’s uh… it’s just a stupid thing, don’t worry about it.”
“Oh. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, sorry I brought it up. I really like it though,” Keith said quickly, going to take a bite out of it. As nice as the cookie looked, he knew it probably tasted even better.
Lance’s hand came to rest lightly on Keith’s wrist, stopping him from eating it. “No, no, it’s fine. I uh… I used to have this dream all the time that like, in some weird alternate reality that we were… astronaut warriors or something, fighting big purple aliens or something. And we were a team, a super badass team that completely destroyed the purple aliens. I haven’t really gotten it as much lately, but last night I did and I kind of just wanted to make it?” Lance looked away again, leaning into Keith’s chest. “Again, it’s kinda dumb just forget it.”
The corner of Keith’s mouth quirked up. “No, no, it sounds nice. I love it. But does this alternate reality have the GCCC?”
Lance laughed. “No, probably not,” he said in a soft voice. “Though we probably would do something else really stupid like, I dunno, try to take out as many evil robots as possible or something. But I like the GCCC. And that’s why I think I’ll stick around in this one with you.”
Keith split the cookie in half, handing one piece to Lance and shoving the other into his own mouth. “Oh my god, you know that sounded really cool but you just made it super sappy. Why do I stick around you, again?”
Lance tilted his head and placed another soft, sure kiss to Keith’s lips and gave him a small fond grin. “Hmm, probably because my culinary skills rival that of even the best bakers on Cupcake Wars,” he said.
“Oh yeah,” Keith said, shaking his head. “How could I forget.” This time he was the one to give Lance a small kiss as he leaned over and plucked another cookie from the tray. “Though it also might be because I love you,” he added, taking a bite of the Patrick cookie.
Lance’s smile brightened, and Keith felt his heart lurch in his chest. The prettiest LEDs in the neighborhood had nothing on that smile. He wanted to be able to see that smile for the rest of his life, to keep it and cherish it and never lose it. And hopefully, he wouldn’t.
“Oh yeah?” Lance finally said, voice breathless and scratchy. Keith only shrugged, swallowing the rest of the cookie in one bite. He hadn’t been lying—Lance had a serious talent for making cookies, store-bought mix or not. “Well first of all you’re an absolute heathen for not thoroughly appreciating the deliciousness of that cookie, but luckily for you, I love you too.”
Keith snorted but still his pulse fluttered—it fluttered like the first time that Lance said it, all that time ago. He let himself be drawn in again, felt so light as Lance placed another feather light kiss on his nose, on his cheeks, on his lips.
Against Keith’s lips Lance whispered, somehow in almost complete seriousness, “I didn’t think I was a snowman, but I think you’ve just made my heart completely melt.” And for once, instead of laughing or pushing away or any other rational reaction to the terrible pun, Keith only pulled him closer.
Yeah, terrible cartoons be damned—Christmas was definitely one of his favorite times of the year. And it was all because he was lucky enough to spend it here—here with Lance.