Imagine Keith’s fucking surprise when he turns around, ready to throw hands with the idiot that had tossed a fucking can through his bedroom window, and instead comes face to face with the boy in the photographs that the McClains had set up on the table with the candle, a memorial for their dead son.
He opens his mouth.
“what the fu-”
“STOP THROWING OUT MY THINGS DUDE, COME ON, HAVE SOME FUCKING RESPECT,”
Keith considers that, maybe, Shiro was right, and the isolation was, in fact, fucking with his head.
Hm.
Whatever, this fucker just threw a can at him, and if his mama taught him one thing it’s to not take shit lying down.
“IF YOU DIDN’T WANT ME TO GET RID OF YOUR SHIT, WHY’D YOU HAVE SUCH BAD TASTE?”
Shit, he’s pretty sure you aren’t meant to indulge the delusion.
The boy, if possible, glares harder, form flickering in and out of existence as he raises his hands to his hips, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing.
Cute.
Ah fuck, wait, no-
“Bad. Taste?” the boy is seething now; Keith’s pretty sure if this was the looney tunes his head would’ve been steaming, “bad. Fucking. TASTE? I ONLY DIED LAST YEAR, AND ILL BET MY ROTTING BONES THAT UGLY MULLETS HAVEN’T MAGICALLY COME BACK INTO STYLE!”
Keith’s eye twitches. Oh this little shit was gonna fucking get it.
Aliens? Obviously. Cryptids? It’s his biggest special interest.
But ghosts no. In Keith’s professional opinion (professional meaning he read a book about ghosts in a half price books and found it boring) ghosts were bullshit.
Lance on the other hand is very superstitious about these things. He’s convinced at least three hallways in the castle are haunted and will freak out if he feels a cold spot.
Have you ever wanted to read a ghost!Keith and human!Lance fic where Keith is literally from the 80s. Do you love angst and heartbreak but also romance? Do you like kissing ghosts? This may be the fic for you!
Check out my fic, give me feedback (pls be at least a little nice) .-. The idea was bouncing in my head driving me crazy so here we are.