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"KEITH!" Lance hammered on their bathroom door, the loud booms shaking the floor slightly. "KEITH HURRY THE HECK UP! I have on a clay mask and I can feel my skin dying!"
Keith sighed as he ignored his boyfriend. Lance was always yelling and complaining about something and ordering Keith around.
Keith, stop getting real milk and get that lactose free stuff we have a coupon for! You're lactose intolerant; stop hurting yourself!
Keith, wash your pillowcases every week! I sleep with you and don't want my face to be contaminated by your greasy sheets!
Keith, don't run away at work because you think you made the project fail!
Keith, don't throw grass at Pidge! She has allergies!
Keith! Keith! Keith!
Keith shuddered. Sure, Lance had his best interests at heart, but god could he be annoying. Hypocritically, Lance became a sourpuss whenever Keith tried to reprimand him.
“Lance, don't sleep with dishes in my bed anymore.:
“Oh, so it's your bed now? Just yesterday when I begged you to change the sheets because I was busy and unable, you said if I wanted my sheets changed, I had to do them myself.” Lance threw his arms in the air.
“Lance,” Keith sighed, “you spooned with actual spoons last night. And bowls.”
“Nuh uh uh uh!” Lance waggled his finger in Keith’s face. “If you want the dishes cleared out of your bed, do it yourself!”
He had quickly learned to ignore Lance’s many demands. Even if some made sense, sometimes. Rarely, though.
As water cascaded down Keith’s back, Lance continued yelling. “I’m only supposed to have this on for fifteen minutes, max! And it’s been twenty already! Get your ugly ass out of the shower, or at least unlock the damn door!”
“You know,” Keith called as he slowly shampooed his hair, “We have another sink. Wash the dirt off of your face in the kitchen.”
He could almost see Lance’s face twisting into a glare. (It did not. The clay mask was so dry he could not move his face.) “I would do it in the sink, but SOMEBODY didn’t do the dishes like they were supposed to! Not naming any names, but I did them yesterday, and you're the only other person who lives here. The sink is overflowing and I am not subjecting my flawless complexion to the stink of your mess!”
Oh shit, he had a point. Keith could see it. His name on the chore calendar, written in big, bright, red letters, right next to the word dishes. They were very particular about cleaning.
“Can you not just stack the dishes in the sink?”
“What else would I do with them?”
“Umm. I don’t know, Lance, maybe wash them? It’s not my job to clean up after you.”
“Actually, Keith, it kind of is. You signed the lease with me! You pay half the bills! You better clean up after me every now and then! Hey! You know what else is yours? The job of washing the dishes!”
“Since when?!” Keith gaped.
“Since two weeks ago! You said, and I quote, “I’ll do the dishes!””
“I MEANT THAT DAY!”
After that day, they kept a calendar and filled it out together every month, marking who had to do what chore on what day. It was Keith’s dish day. And he had forgotten.
“I’ll do them when I get out of the shower!”
“So you’ll do them in thirty seconds? My face is splitting, Keith. Don’t be a dick. Oh wait, that’s probably impossible for you to do!” Lance was only a little bit actually angry. Mostly, he was in pain. Bits of clay were flaking off of his forehead, and he feared for himself.
“I’m not clean yet, though!” Keith teased. “I’m conditioning! Oh look, exfoliator! I worked really hard at the gym today; I bet my body would really appreciate some extra love!”
“I’m gonna exfoliate your dick when you get out!” Lance screamed.
“I’m already exfoliating though! Didn’t you just say that I’m a dick? I wouldn’t want to rub myself raw or anything!” Keith began scrubbing himself with the Bath and Body Works sugar scrub. He smiled at the roughness. “Wow! This feels great! Do you want me to exfoliate your face for you, Lancey-poo?”
Lance’s knocking grew weaker. “Keith,” he begged. “Please. My face hurts so bad. It’s winter and my skin is already dry and now it’ll be double dry because this mask is actually hurting me and I’ll hurt my face even more if I use the sink and I can even get in the shower with you! Please either come out or let me in or I may actually die.”
Keith actually felt bad. Lance sounded really distraught.
He shook some water off of his legs before stepping out of the shower and unlocking and opening the bathroom door. Lance… looked… crazy. The mint green clay mask Keith had watched him smear on had dried to almost white, and cracks and missing flakes littered Lance’s face. “Oh Lance.” Keith sympathetically touched his wet hand to Lance’s face, cringing at how uncomfortable it looked.
Lance pushed past Keith, tore off his robe, and jumped into the shower, frantically turning down the water temperature until it was cold enough for his face. Keith stepped in behind him and massaged his back while Lance gently rubbed circles into his cheeks as cool water softened the clay. He breathed a sigh of relief.
After a surprisingly long amount of time, much longer than Keith would have thought it should take for someone to take off a face mask, Lance turned around, his skin finally a dark brown again. His cheeks were tinged red, but Keith thought nothing of it as he kissed his boyfriend. “Sorry for being a dick and not letting you in.”
“And?” Lance prompted.
“And?” Keith repeated, confused. Lance raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, almost condescendingly. “Oh. And sorry for not doing the dishes yet. Like I said, I’ll do them when I get out of the shower. I may be in longer than expected, though.”
“Oh yeah?” Lance teased. “Who said I’m going to let you do anything to me after the rude treatment I just endured?”
“I say. Because you love me.” Keith smiled softly. “And because I love you.”
“Sure, buddy,” Lance murmured, but the fact that his lips were already on Keith’s discredited any sarcasm.
-
Lance woke up the next day with his face on fire. Was he sick? No, his body felt fine. But, god, his face felt like Keith had actually set fire to him. Speaking of, his stupid boyfriend had already gotten out of bed. Lance noted with a smile that Keith’s pillows had no cases, and he could hear the dryer running in the distance. So he did listen.
“Lance?” Keith knocked gently on the door, holding a glass of ice water and advil. “Are you feeling okay? I noticed that you’re a bit red, so I brought water and medicine.”
“I feel fine. Except that it feels like my face skin is currently on fire at this very moment. Is our apartment on fire?”
Keith looked concerned. “No? Do you think you have a fever?”
He reached out to feel Lance’s forehead, but when he made contact with the skin, Lance howled and shoved away his hand. “Devil! Demon! Alien! You have some burning alien pain hand!”
Keith grew frantic, looking closely at his palms before turning back to Lance. “What do you mean? They might be a little calloused from training or lifting weights but they’re no warmer than usual, are you okay, do you need to go see a-”
“NO!” Lance gasped suddenly, his own hands flying to his cheeks. He hissed and removed them when the touch burned, but kept wailing. “The clay mask! My poor, dried out, sensitive, burning skin! I feel like I've been sunburned! I'm brown; I don't know what sunburn feels like! I shouldn't be feeling this! My complexion! I’m not glowing! Oh god, it’s gonna get flakey and gross and uncomfortable and…” his watery eyes lifted to meet Keith’s and turned cold. “You,” he snarled, jumping up and holding out a finger, jabbing it at his boyfriend. “You did this to me! If you had let me in the shower earlier, or if you had unlocked the door, or if you had done your chores, we would not be dealing with this!” All through his rant, he had slowly pushed forward, until Keith’s back was on a wall.
“We?” Keith asked. “I can’t deal with this. I have class.”
“And I have burning skin! What if I die! What if you come home and the pain had been too much or my skin was so dry my whole face fell off! Would you like that?!”
Keith shook his head, a little afraid for his life.
There were three things Lance cared enough about to kill for.
1. Keith (who prided himself on being number one)
2. His family (including his tight-knit group of friends who were pretty much family)
3. Skincare.
If any of these were threatened, Lance grew irrationally angry. Keith being at the top did not protect him from the wrath. He held up his arms in surrender. “Hey, what if I take you to-”
“I cannot go out like this!” Lance gestured wildly to his red skin.
“Alright,” Keith amended. “How about I go to Sephora by myself, and buy you some fancy ass moisturizer? Or I could have Shiro come over! He knows things.”
Lance’s lip curled into a snarl. “If you think you can bribe me… you definitely can. Only if you buy me some Fresh brand hydrating cream.”
“Done.”
“And some rosewater.”
“I don’t think Sephora has any affordable rosewater, but also done. I’ll find some.”
“And if you call Shiro so he can lecture you into being nice to me, always, all day every day.”
“Of course, Lance. You’re my world. I’ll do anything for you.” Keith smiled. It was not very reassuring.
Lance narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I love you. You are not forgiven, however; until I am better.”
“Understandable. I will call Shiro at Sephora.”
“Keith, don’t do that. He’ll want you to buy him some eyeliner. Speaking of, I used your mascara and it’s pretty much done.” (Again with the ordering around)
Keith sighed. “Maybe I’ll take him to Sephora with me.”
“You do that. Don’t sugarcoat what you did to me, mullet.”
“It’s not- oh my god, whatever. Bye.”
-
Two days later
-
“Oh god,” Keith whimpered as Lance gently patted on the expensive moisturizer. “Oh god, this hurts. I’m sorry. I have never been sorrier.”
Lance grinned evilly. “At least your pores are clear. Imagine how much more it would hurt if you were forced to yell for the last seven minutes you had it on.”
Keith just groaned again.