10 for klance
10. not wearing that | accepting
“No. Absolutely not.”
“What? What’s wrong with it?”
From the expression on Lance’s face the answer was everything. He was giving Keith that look, a frown with one brow raised and arms crossed over his chest, the same one the kids got when they were caught putting each other in headlocks and then played dumb with questions like, “What?”
Keith shrugged at himself in the mirror. Lance was still looking at him from the bedroom doorway. He was wearing a navy suit, the one that made his eyes look like the ocean, and a crisp white button up, collar open and no tie. His hair was perfectly coiffed, face cleanly shaved. Keith was sure he smelled good too, like that fresh cologne he saved for special occasions.
Keith thought he looked fine, too. Sure, not as good as his husband, but when had that ever happened? (Never, as Lance would readily attest.) He was wearing his good pants, the black ones Lance had made him get tailored, and a blazer. A blazer. He hadn’t done anything with his hair, but these days it didn’t need much, but a rake of the hand through the mop on top to muss it up. He didn’t have cologne, but his new deodorant smelled good.
Lance clicked his tongue. “If you make me say it out loud I swear I’ll divorce you and take the kids, too.”