(Oops I meant) For the kiss prompt: #6 Klance please?? Thank you!!
Believe me, I knew it was Klance, no worries there; ONTO THE DRABBLE!
I got a lil carried away in the begining lmao, idk what happened. I ACTUALLY LIKED THIS ONE. What a nice surprise.
Excuse any grammar/typos/logic this may have or lack of but like, ya know, writer’s blog, I’m doing my best lmao.
6; lazy morning kisses before they’ve even open their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up.
Here’s the thing: Keith’s a light sleeper.
Here’s the other thing: Keith doesn’t give a fuck.
Sleep is precious, alright? It’s one of the few things that are vital for him to be an actual human being (or hybrid? Or whatever he was?) and something he doesn’t take slightly.
He goes to sleep early, he gets his six or eight hours and he wakes up on point to every day’s morning training before Allura can even harm his ears with the Castle’s alarms and he functions alright throughout the day.
All in all, though, as much as he loves sleeping, his entire life pretty much taught him that he must be in high alert, every single second.
It started when his dad had scooped him up one late night, barely explaining anything to him as he shoved Keith into the car and drove away from the only home Keith had known in his small three years of life. After that it felt like they were on a run, always on the move, barely giving Keith time to get attached to the four walls surrounding them, ‘protecting’ them, before they had to pack everything and leave.
It went on for a few years, Keith getting better and better at waking up by himself so his dad didn’t even had to step into his room, until one night when Keith woke up to several social workers, a crumbled note and no family.
The habit of being a light sleeper didn’t fade in the years to come. If anything, the time in his foster homes only made him more paranoid, something that came in handy when Ryan, one of his older foster brothers when he was nine, tried to dye his hair pink one fateful night.
Yes, he slapped the shit out of Ryan and got transferred to another foster home but at least he didn’t get pink hair. It had been a win-win in his book.
Now, life in the Castle? Simple, organized and oddly easily adaptable, having in mind they are floating in the middle of a galaxy it didn’t had a name that they (see: Hoomans) could pronounce.
Which brings him back to square zero: him lying on his bed, knowing full well that the glowing on his walls that lines up with their clock is not yet the color that would represent a sunrise. Keith knows this, and yet there’s a soft pressure on his side that dares to take his sleep away from him.
Keith’s awake at the first touch; the feathery touch if it could even be called that way. It’s enough to wake him up but damn him if his boyfriend thinks he will rise before his time.
Keith grumbles under his breath, pressing half of his face further down into his pillow as Lance’s fingers start stroking the small sneak peek of his pale skin that Lance’s shirt didn’t cover properly.
“Baby?” Lance mumbles, breathing against Keith’s ear and Keith swallows the gasp that almost leaves him. He’s not giving that little shit the satisfaction.
“No.” Keith whines, words muffled and still slurred so it might have sounded like a ‘Moo’. Lance’s low and husky chuckle only confirms his theory.
“Baby, come on, please wake up?”
Keith doesn’t even bother to answer. He just turns around and buries his face against his boyfriend’s chest, thanking every celestial power out there for making Lance to sleep shirtless because damn.
“Keith, amor? Wakey wakey, daisy?”
That one didn’t even make any sense but is Keith going to tell him that? Heck no.
But if Keith knows anything about his boyfriend, is that Lance is one stubborn son of a bitch and Keith can only re-confirm this as Lance takes out his big guns.
The other big guns.
Warm and slightly chapped lips are being pressed against his hair, lingering a tick too long before they move to his forehead. Then they attacked him just above his eyebrow before making their way down, slow and steady, pressing themselves against Keith’s closed eyes, one kiss on each of them, before one on his nose and cheeks.
God, it shouldn’t be this endearing. It should make him groan in annoyance and irritation because his sleep is slipping through his hands by every passing tick but Lance’s hands are on him, on the small of his back, holding him close and secure against his broad chest, lips traveling all over his face with so much care and gentleness and Keith’s a weak man.
“Wake up, baby.” Lance mumbles quietly and Keith can hear the small smug smile on his lips, “Keithy baby?”
Keith’s about to open his mouth when those same lips press themselves against his own and Keith can honestly wave sleep bye-bye as long as Lance’s lips stay on him.
Keith sighs on against the kiss, holding his breath for a second to ignore the classic moment of morning breath but he doesn’t really give a damn.
What he wants is Lance and more.
He press himself closer in the kiss, his own smirk growing on his lips as Lance gasps in surprise at the sudden shift but he welcomes it smoothly, slowly lowering himself back down on the bed as Keith rolls and ends up on top of him.
“One of this days,” Keith whispers, eyes still closed as he drops a few more kisses on Lance’s face as he catches his breathe, “One of these days I’mma stab you by ‘accident’ if you keep stealing my sleep from me.”
Lance chuckles and waves him off, saying something that if he didn’t did it six months ago when they started dating, he’s not going to do it now.
Well, yeah, duh, not if Lance keeps using those damn lips against him. Talking about playing fair, Lance.
“Baby, kissing? Me? Please?” Lance whines, lips turning into a small pout as Keith looks back at him and then he smiles fondly.
“God, you’re lucky I love you.” Keith whispers as he lowers himself once again.
“More than sleep?”
“Don’t push it.”