Lance knows the tradition. And as much as he often rolls his eyes about doing things just because “that’s how it’s always been done”, there are some things about it he really loves. Someone on their knees, in front of friends and family in some beautiful location, asking you to give them the honour of marrying you?
Absolutely fuckin’ dreamy. Lance would love that shit. He would be unashamedly riding that attention high for years. He used to daydream about it, to; talking to his siblings when they were up late, painting their nails and talking shit about whomever for fun. He knows he’s definitely explained ad nauseam his preference for a pretty diamond ring placed on his finger to the backdrop of the sun setting on the waves.
But, as it always does, life does not go according to plan.
His faceless daydreams were only fantasies. There’s nothing wrong with them — fantasies are fun, and can even be a basis for reality — they just didn’t match up with where he ended up! At no point in his life could he ever have expected to fall so deeply in love with the man he’d sworn so vehemently to hate. At no point could he ever have predicted being swept up into a war beyond his greatest comprehension with that man at his side, or to lead a war with that man. He could never have predicted the softness that would bloom between them, the gentle moments that would be just as frequent as the intense competitions.
Honestly, he never could have predicted Keith. Who could have? Keith is… he’s just so much. Of everything. There’s not a single thing he does that he doesn’t do with his whole heart and soul. He cares so deeply and intensely; his love is so all-encompassing… sometimes Lance lies in bed and is rendered breathless by the force of it; of him. He can scarcely believe that he is so lucky, that the universe aligned so carefully, that he has the chance to love Keith and be loved by Keith, in every day and in every way.
It’s a lot. It’s everything, really.
And so that’s why it has to be perfect. Away with the small crowd of friends and family, with the public space and pomp and circumstance — as much as Keith loves their family, and loves indulging Lance (seriously. What Keith wouldn’t do to make Lance happy… it makes Lance giddy just to remember it. He is so, so fucking lucky. He scored), Lance knows he values his privacy. Hell, it took nearly an entire year for anyone else to know that they were dating. Not because Keith was ashamed of him, or because either of them were afraid, but because Keith kind of likes to keep things to himself. He likes it when it’s just him and Lance, when they have inside jokes and secrets and moments that are just theirs.
Lance likes it too, frankly. Plus, there was nothing funnier than the pure outrage on all of their friends’ faces when they realised they’d been blind to Keith and Lance for eleven whole months. Truly a moment Lance has cherished.
All this to say that Lance has been preparing to finally ask Keith to be his husband. He’s told no one — not even Hunk — but several weeks ago he measured Keith’s ring size as he slept, and worked carefully with a jeweller to design something he knew Keith would love. That was the easy part. The harder part has been carving out the right time in both of their schedules; a time when they can give each other their full attention for long enough that Lance can do the asking and then have some time after for… ahem, celebrating.
(Lance has been looking forward to that part especially.)
But finally all the stars aligned — the two of them had a week off after spending three months on a Balmera with restoration efforts — and Lance can put his plan into motion.
The first thing he does is send Keith on some random errands. That buys him a few hours to set up the alcove by their front door — a collage of pictures of them over the years, pinned artfully to the wall; bundles of Keith’s favourite flowers, poppies and California lilies and sunflowers and desert roses; and perhaps most ostentatiously, a goofy banner that Lance hand-painted with the magic question. Is it elegant? Not really. A little tacky? Possibly.
But although Keith would rather surgically remove his tongue than admit it, he eats this shit up. He grew up with Shiro, for Christ’s sake. The man as watched every romcom ever made, and loves them all to pieces. Lance has watched 10 Things I Hate About You with him more times than he can physically count.
Once he’s satisfied with how the alcove is set up, he digs the velvet box out of its hiding place, tucking it carefully into his jeans pocket and settling into the truck to go pick up Keith.
If Lance was following his daydreams, they’d both be dolled up to the nines and heading to some fancy restaurant. Instead, Lance is wearing his dark red shirt that he knows makes Keith cross-eyed and his good jeans that make his legs look long. He knows that Keith is wearing his favourite flannel and his rattiest pair of converse, which Lance has had to literally patch back together because Keith refuses to throw the damn things out.
It fits better, somehow.
“Where are we headed, Casanova?” Keith asks, after trying (and failing) to convince Lance to let him drive. (As if. It’s Lance’s turn. The schedule says so and everything.)
“Surprise,” Lance says vaguely. He glances as surreptitiously as possible into the backseat, making sure that he did, in fact, remember to pack the food and the blankets.
(He did. He has also checked fourteen billion times. He is, although he knows it’s silly, the slightest bit nervous, apparently.)
“C’mon,” Keith prods, sliding a free hand into Lance’s hand. “Can’t I get a hint, baby? Just a little bit?”
“I am trying to drive. Keep that shit up and we’re gonna crash, you walking distraction.”
Keith laughs — cackles, really — but pulls his hand away.
“Loser. If I drove, you could distract me all you wanted and we’d still be fine.”
Lance reaches over blindly to grab Keith’s hand back, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the tops of his knuckles.
“Not a chance, babe.”
———
When they finally make it to their destination (after an hour of Keith complaining about the drive, trying to convince Lance to tell him where they’re going, and switching through every available radio station twelve thousand times before he’s satisfied), Lance throws the truck in park and practically sprints to open Keith’s door before he has the chance.
“Dork,” Keith teases, flicking him on the nose as he hops out.
Lance grins. “You love it.”
“You’ll never prove it.” He takes Lance’s offered hand, then looks around. “Where are we?”
Lance hums, carefully swinging the backpack he brought over his shoulders and tugging Keith away from the truck.
“Well, you see, my boyfriend is this massive nerd,” he starts playfully. Keith rolls his eyes, grinning.
“Nerd, you say, as if you don’t have alphabetized samples of cool rocks from every planet we’ve ever been on.”
Lance ignores the jab, plowing right on. “And because he is this massive nerd, I figured he would appreciate frolicking through the desert until we come to a decent spot, then eating this dope ass dinner I made for us —” he pats the backpack — “while watching the meteor shower that’s supposed to be visible tonight.” He grins widely at Keith’s excited gasp. “I know it’s nothing we haven’t seen before a million times, but I thought it’d be nice.”
Keith says nothing, using their joined hands to yank Lance towards him and kiss him soundly.
“Sounds good to me,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Lance’s lips, his jaw, his throat.
“Keith,” Lance says, breathless. Like everything with them, this has rapidly escalated off-course.
Why are they like this, again?
“We’ve got an itinerary, babe, we’ve gotta — oh, God, do that again.”
He feels Keith’s smirk against the hollow of his throat. “Wouldn’t be the first time we messed our plans in favour of the truck bed, sugar.”
“Itinerary,” Lance tries again, weakly.
“Truck’s right there,” Keith reiterates.
Lance has a lot of discipline, okay?
But Keith is convincing. He knows exactly which buttons of Lance’s to press.
And, if Lance is being entirely honest, he loves indulging Keith as much as Keith loves indulging him.
———
Their food goes cold.
“This is your fault,” Lance says, pointing a fork at the perpetrator in question. “I had this hot and ready to eat, and you stubbornly decided to be a distraction, you dick.”
Keith is entirely unapologetic.
“There was something else that was hot and ready for me to eat,” he says, looking pointedly at Lance’s ass and grinning wolfishly.
Lance smacks the shit out of him with a pillow.
“You are a dog!”
He’s laughing, though, as he says it, so it doesn’t quite have the desired effect. Keith has no qualms with teasing him right back, either, both of them spending as much time eating as they do roasting each other.
God, Lance cannot wait to put a ring on this bitch. The meteor shower better hurry the fuck up so Lance can take them home and get down on one knee, already.
As soon as Lance thinks it, Keith gasps, grabbing Lance’s arms and pointing at the sky.
“Look! It’s starting!”
It’s slow going, at first, barely one flash of light every five minutes, but eventually shooting stars are racing through the sky as thousands of rocks burn to nothing in Earth’s atmosphere.
Lance nudges Keith’s side. “Bet you’re wishing that Hunk brings another dozen eggs to the next diplomatic meeting to throw at people when they say stupid things.”
“There’s no way you knew that!” Keith protests immediately. “I must have spoken out loud!”
“Nope! I just know you, baby.”
“Well, I bet you wished that Allura and Veronica will finally kiss this month so you win the betting pool!”
They spend the rest of the meteor shower like that — frantically shouting out what they think the other wished after each star that shoots by. They’re both right a good half of the time, too.
It makes something warm and fiery ignite in Lance’s belly, to have someone who knows him so deeply. Without even talking about it.
It’s the best thing Lance could possibly wish for.
———
By the time the meteor shower ends, they’ve eaten their food, and it’s something like three in the morning. Keith yawns every few minutes, and doesn’t even bother with the radio on the way home, simply resting his head on the window and closing his eyes for a while. He doesn’t fall asleep — his hand is tangled with Lance’s, and his thumb runs constant lines over the backs of his knuckles — but he’s too tired to be fully awake, either.
Not Lance. Lance feels like he’s buzzing, the breeze from his cracked-open window the only thing keeping him from going supernova. He’s so excited he can barely breathe.
When they finally get home, Lance rushes again to open Keith’s door, who grins tiredly at him and presses a kiss to his cheek before following him inside. Lance takes a deep breath before opening the door, stepping quickly to the alcove and grabbing the ring from his pocket as Keith walks in.
Aaaannd… right past him.
Lance’s jaw drops. Keith is so tired he doesn’t even notice the newly decorated alcove, or even Lance — he simply walks to the kitchen with their picnic supplies. Lance hears him hum as he starts to put their dirty dishes in the dishwasher, their leftovers in the fridge.
“Lance, babe,” he calls, “do you care if I eat the last of the pan frito? It’s better fresh.”
Lance glances down at the ring. He barely holds himself back from cackling with laughter, because of course Keith is so distracted that he didn’t even notice Lance down on one knee.
“How about you come in here for a second, first?” Lance responds, voice shaking with amusement.
“What? No, come here if you want some! I’ll share, but I just mopped the floor yesterday, I don’t want to get crumbs all over it.”
“Keith,” Lance tries again, “come here for a goddamn second, will ya?”
“Alright, Jesus,” Keith grumbles. In what Lance assumes to be spite, he takes a couple minutes, before he finally turns the corner and sees Lance for the first time.
His freezes, the dishtowel he was carrying flutters to the ground.
“L-Lance? What’s going — what —”
“I have a question for you, sweetheart,” Lance says. He grins teasingly. “Would’ve asked earlier, but you walked right by me.”
“Oh my God.”
“You paying attention, now?”
“Oh my God!”
Before Lance can blink, Keith rushes forward, tackling Lance to the ground and pressing kisses all over his face; anywhere he can reach.
“Yes! Yes! Yes —”
Lance sets the ring in his lap so he can grab Keith’s frantic, fluttering hands.
“I haven’t even asked yet, babe.”
“Well, get to it!”
Lance snorts, but complies. “Keith Kogane,” he says, smile softening and gaze steady. “Will you marry me?”
Keith laughs, holding his left hand out to Lance, his right hand wiping the tears that have dropped down his cheeks.
“Yes, Lance McClain, I will marry you,” he chokes out. Lance grins brightly as he slides the ring up Keith’s fourth finger. The second the ring is in place, Keith smashes their mouths together, knocking Lance flat on his back.
He doesn’t mind.
It’s way better than a traditional proposal, anyway.
———
based on this video (ninth slide)
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Another random Helluva Boss headcanon that you can pry from my cold dead hands:
tldr: Tilla uses aerial silks to de-stress & teaches a young Fizzarolli how to use them.
When Fizz was still relatively new to the Buckzo circus, he learned very quickly that he did not care for Cash, & would avoid being alone with him in the same place (usually dragging Blitzo along with him & vise-versa. He hated the smell of cheap booze that seemed to always radiate from the man).
After a rough week, Fizz has some trouble falling asleep, Cash’s harsh words still reverberating in his head. So, after a while of trying & failing to fall asleep, the young imp decides to go on a short walk around the circus grounds (avoiding Cash’s trailer).
Walking for a bit, Fizz eventually comes across a circus tent with light coming from inside it (odd, he thought everyone had gone to sleep for the night). Curiosity piqued, he slowly makes his way over & peeks through the curtain, only to see Mrs. Buckzo swinging around lazily in the air, held up securely by silken drapes.
He watches on in awe, seeing how at peace she looks, & whispers quietly to himself, but this ultimately reveals his location, gaining the attention of Tilla.
His instincts tell him to run, but she calmly calls out to him, a friendly greeting, & he resigns himself to staying put, opting to instead wrap his tail ‘round his legs. He hadn’t gotten the chance to meet her yet, so he could only hope that she was nothing like her husband.
He’s very surprised when he finds out she’s nothing like Cash at all, & insists he call her “Miss Tilla”. Ever the people pleaser, he does. They chat for a moment, mostly Tilla asking him if he’s adjusting to circus life okay, if Blitzo & Barbie are being nice to him, & other things of that nature.
Feeling more relaxed around her now, Fizz becomes very enthusiastic when she asks him about what acts he’d been practicing. He tells her how good he’s gotten at balancing on different objects, as well as his strength when climbing & holding onto a rope he would one day swing around the circus tent from.
At this, he mentions how he saw her earlier, & thought what she was doing was very pretty. Getting an idea, she asks him if he would like to learn, to which he immediately agrees.
Learning that they were called “aerial silks”, Tilla spends a bit of time teaching the young imp how to situate the silks so he wouldn’t fall (not that she had him high above the ground), she guides him through some simple moves, getting him used to it. All the while a wide grin of triumph never leaves the boy’s face, calling to her excitedly when he maneuvered himself into the ways she’d taught him.
After helping him get down safely, he thanks her, to which she gently smiles & says he’s welcome back anytime.
Fizz likes her, he decides. Way better than Cash.
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