Keith comes over for Lance’s fifteenth birthday. Hunk is still in Hawaii, but he Skypes, and the three of them talk for two hours. It’s nice.
After Hunk hangs up, Lance decides he wants to make his own birthday cake. Keith decides he wants to help. Neither of them have ever baked by themselves before, but they figure it can’t be too bad.
And it isn’t – they make their way to Wal-Mart, buying six boxes of Betty Crocker’s yellow cake mix, because they don’t know if the box is telling the truth and it really does make a whole cake, so they figure a few extra boxes won’t hurt. They also buy eleven cans of icing, along with a bunch of blue food dye and sprinkles.
The next thing they do is try to put everything together. (They do, at this point, realise they have way too much shit. They only end up using two boxes for the cake, and one to eat the batter. And Lance will take no criticism on that – cake batter is fucking delicious.) That goes pretty well, too – they measure the ingredients and mix ‘em together. Easy. They even remember to grease the pan.
The… troubles, so to speak, come when they pop the cake in the oven and set a timer. Lance hoists himself up to sit on the counter while Keith does the dishes, because Lance is the Birthday Boy™ and is thus exempt from chores.
“In what world does being alive on a certain day mean you don’t have to do dishes,” Keith grumbles. Lance sticks out his tongue.
“In this world, where I am currently Queen of the Day, and you are subservient to me. Scrub the dishes in silence, mullet.”
Lance watches as the challenge visibly sparks up Keith’s spine. He straightens immediately, hands stilling. The sounds of scrubbing cease. Keith turns slightly to him, eyes dark and narrowed.
Lance gulps. He’ll deny it until his dying breath, but something stirs in his gut.
“What was that?” Keith asks carefully.
Lance has never been one to back down, even when he’s knee-deep in a pile of trouble. Especially not to Keith’s bitch ass, as objectively attractive as it may be.
“I said chop chop, get to work.”
Keith moves so fast he’s practically a blur. Water splashes everywhere, but Lance hardly notices. He’s too busy shrieking at the top of his lungs and vaulting over the counter. He sprints up the stairs, on all fours like an animal.
“Someone’s never seen a horror movie,” Keith growls, voice closer than Lance thought he was, and Lance chants in his head that it is not hot, it’s not, it’s lame and stupid and horrible and Keith is the worst. He is.
Lance finally makes it up the stairs and tears down the hallway, swinging into Veronica and Rachel’s bathroom and slamming the door shut milliseconds before Keith can follow him in. He turns the lock, panting heavily as the adrenaline hammers through his veins. The doorknob jiggles for a few seconds, as Keith turns the handle, but then stops abruptly. Footsteps fade as Keith walks away. Lance narrows his eyes. Since when does Keith give up so easily? (Once, Lance lied and said that he’s never once posted an embarrassing picture online and he has been carefully curating his online image his whole life. Keith pulled an all-nighter tracking down his old Tumblr account from when he was 11, and he didn’t even have his name on that thing. To this day Lance has no fucking clue how Keith found it, and lives with the constant shame that Keith has seen a picture of him posing in his room at like 3 in the morning, in front of his old Naruto poster, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue with the caption ‘im SO random XO RAWR XP’. If he thinks about the situation too much he feels like crawling into the nearest ditch and letting nature take him, so he shoves it quickly out of his mind, because it is his Birthday and he refuses to feel shame on his birthday.)
Suddenly the footsteps return, rapidly this time, and the handle jiggles again. A mounting horror washes through Lance as he remembers, abruptly, that the locks in his house are weird and every single one of them can be opened from the outside with a coin. Lance barely has time to even squeak before the door slams open and Keith comes barrelling through, colliding with him and sending them both tumbling to the floor. By the time Lance orients himself again, Keith is straddling him, pinning his shoulders to the ground and smirking at him.
“Who’s queen now, huh?” he taunts.
Lance swallows.
He swallows again.
He desperately prays his cheeks aren't as red as they feel, but he doubts God loves him that much.
“What’s the matter?” Keith asks, leaning closer. “Cat got your tongue?”
Lance isn’t even sure his brain is still working, let alone his fucking tongue. All he can feel is the length of Keith’s body pressed against his, the tensing of his muscles as he pins him down, the borderline fucking smoulder in Keith’s expression, two inches from his face –
A shrill beeping noise makes them both jump. They look around, then look at each other. What the hell is –
“Is that the smoke detectors?” Keith asks, and then they look at each other in horror.
“The cake!” they yell at the same time, and quickly untangle from each other and sprint back downstairs to the kitchen. The stove is billowing grey smoke, and a lot of it. Lance grabs a dishtowel and starts waving it back and forth, hoping to dispel some of it.
“Open the windows!” he shouts, and Keith rushes to comply. While he does that, Lance holds the towel in front of his face, slipping on an oven mitt with his other hand, and carefully opens the oven door. More smoke blows in his face, and he coughs, eyes burning. He blinks to clear them, and sighs in relief when he doesn’t see any flames. He carefully grabs the glass baking dish.
“Can you open the back door?” he asks. “I’m gonna set this outside, see if that clears the smoke a bit.”
Keith nods, and Lance rushes over to set the pan down on the concrete stairs. Luckily, the glass doesn’t crack. They go back inside, closing the screen door behind them, and take a moment to stare in hopeless silence at the hazy kitchen in front of them.
“So much for that cake,” Keith says.
“Mamá is going to kill me,” Lance breathes. “I am going to die at fifteen.”
Keith grimaces. “Maybe we can scrape off the burnt parts?”
Lance thinks back to the block of char currently sitting in the backyard, and imagines him and Keith with a butterknife each, desperately scraping off the black in a vain attempt to find even a sliver of edible cake before Mamá gets back from work, and the image is so ridiculous he bursts out laughing. Keith was already cracking up a little at his own damn suggestion, and loses it when Lance doubles over. That’s how Mamá finds them, in a smoke-filled kitchen, leaning on each other, struggling to breathe from both their laughter and all the fucking smoke.
“Lance, must you make a mess every time you have a friend over,” she sighs, and Keith and Lance just laugh harder.
“You and Keith are cleaning this kitchen from top to bottom. No exceptions. I don’t care if it’s your birthday, or that Keith’s a guest. He’s here enough that that’s hardly true, anyway. Dios.”
She walks away muttering, and Lance doesn’t even correct her about his and Keith’s friendship status. He finds that he truly doesn’t want to.
To be fair, Keith is about to spend the next couple hours helping him scrub the kitchen after they basically set it on fire. That’s something friends do, he’s sure.
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childhood rivals to lovers prompts
because it took me until high school to realize that the annoying boy i knew in 7th grade might've liked me
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being the top of their classes but only having eyes to compete with each other
being nerds and doing homework together after school but only to compare answers and smugly correct each other
X finds out Y's favorite color and starts wearing more of it, Y secretly likes it
having insulting nicknames that only THEY can use on the other
neither of them know how the beef started, could be that X already liked Y and didn't know what to do with feelings + Y being friends with kids that liked to argue with X
they end up hanging together bc of mutual friends and Y ends up enjoying this group more than their old friends
or X is friends with Y's sibling so they end up encountering at Y's house unexpectedly
maybe teachers note the rivalry and seat them together/pair them for projects. the class likes to watch their back-and-forth
"you look dumb with your hair up like that" "fix your chapped lips" "short" "weak" other immature digs at each other
losing contact as they end up at different high schools and eventually go to different colleges, maybe out of town
both were too stubborn to get each other's contacts, or didn't have ways to personally contact each other after middle school
neither said anything at middle school graduation, last they'll ever see each other
maybe one cries, or X randomly hugs Y before running away, maybe a small picture together taken by their parents who don't know about the rivalry
cut to college, they return to their hometown during a school break. maybe the breaks happen to line up
see each other in passing on a crowded bus/train, almost don't recognize each other
"was X this attractive?" sort of thoughts. maybe one notices and the other doesn't, or both make awkward eye contact for a split second before looking away
maybe they end up visiting the old bakery/cafe they always went to as kids and see each other on line, or X is working register as a summer job
brush it off bc maybe they've been thinking about their crush for so long that they're hallucinating the scenarios they made up
do they keep feigning ignorance? at this point, haven't there been too many coincidences?
one decides to take a chance and calls out to the other with the old insulting nickname
it works and they respond in kind with a smile
"It's been almost a decade now"
"you look different"
taking a closer look and seeing how the other has developed. the awkward baggy clothes have been replaced with better fitting stylish clothes.
the baby fat is gone but the smile's undoubtedly the same
noticing the changes they made in appearance and remembering the old insults they threw. maybe one did change their hairstyle and looks way too attractive, maybe one got muscular and is much stronger than the other
even better with height differences, especially if the one who used to be shorter grew way taller
or the shorter one stayed short and the other grew substantially
making snarky but lighthearted remarks mentioning inside "jokes" from the past
"still got chapped lips?" "still looking at my lips?" even better if one knows about the other's crush
one has the courage to ask for the other's contact info, finally arrange something close to a date (they never specify)
reminisce about old times, maybe meet up in the old playground/cafe/bakery near the middle school
realize they get along well as adults, talk about high school and college and where they're going in life
sad if one is going abroad, or if their careers are so separated that they probably won't have time to see each other a lot
maybe they secretly kept mementos of each other. if not that graduation picture, then the mean doodle Y drew in X's notebook, or the post-it X left in the book Y lent them, or the hat that Y never gave back, or the pen that X stole from Y's bag, etc.
"are you with anyone?" "no, you?" "me neither"
"i used to like you when we were kids" "used to? what about now?"
or "what am i supposed to do with an expired crush" to be sassier
meeting again is stirring up old feelings
happy end, they get together and have a strong long distance relationship or smth
sad end, they part ways for the final time
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