[He stands just after, doesn't even spare a moment to adjust himself (because he's fucking gross all over as well). What he does do, is: closes the front door, since they left it wide open for literally anyone to wander in.
After that, he's just gonna quietly follow Lance. They're like two prisoners of war being lead to their chambers...but they're leading themselves and instead of wartime it's just gaytime.]
anyway, here they go. about to do a totally normal thing. after a totally normal night. no big deal. noooo big deal.
once he enters the bathroom, lance doesn't even bother to turn on the light since they're just going to turn it off anyway. it's not like he really needs to see that much to finish tugging off his wet shirt, which feels about five times heavier from all the marsh it dragged back in. since he's ahead, he can easily keep his back to the other, quietly working on toeing off his boots... and then his pants next, wincing when the zipper is a little too loud. (in reality, it's just that everything else is a little too quiet.) he keep his underwear on for now, kicking the rest of his discarded clothing off to the side. leaning over into the shower stall, he starts the water up, trying to get it to just the right temperature. ]
[He comes in second and hesitates, thinking to flick the light on? But Lance doesn't...so he's torn? Maybe, uh...
Backtracking a tiny bit, he'll turn the hallway light on, then proceed into the bathroom, boots squeaking to mark each step. He'll be shedding those first and foremost; they've been a source of discomfort since they filled with swampass water. He's pointedly ignoring Lance, too. Aware of him to know where he is, exactly, but nothing beyond that. Two bros, stripping in a bathroom five feet apart because they're not gay.]
[ he glances over his shoulder when he hears the light switch flick on, and spares a tight frown keith's way. they agreed no lights! but at least the light from the hallway only barely pools in, casting half-tone shadows in random spots of the bathroom. content enough with that, he turns back around to just. finish stripping down, and then just as quickly slipping into the shower stall. maybe if he gets a head-start, he can finish before keith even gets in. (haha fat chance)
he debates on which way to face for a full minute, not sure which one would ensure less eye contact. in the end, he faces the front, letting his face tip up towards the spray of the shower to try and wash what he can from his hair and face. ]
[Conditioner has to it in your hair for at least two minutes, that's fifteen in Lance Beauty Care Time. (LBCT for short). Keith's undressing with less reservation; not because he's been naked enough in front of BOTH roommates at this point where it ain't even a thing. The...entire process isn't a big deal. Acting odd about it will only make it odd.
He is, deep down, a liiiiiiiiittle bit nervous, which says a lot. Keith doesn't usually get nervous. Any survival skill he should possess has been replaced with CHARGE IN HEAD FIRST.
Which is practically what he does, shoving the curtain aside and almost walking directly into Lance. Shows how much he'd been paying attention. More importantly...]
Why do you get to face the spray?!
[Of course he'd pick the good spot. The fact that his whole ass and pebis is out matters so little now. Like, remember when nazis ran over that girl or are we still losing it over antifa?]
[ frankly, it's better this way. the arguing, that is, because it at least gives lance something to focus all this weird energy on, and not, for example, the sudden weird urge to look down and then maybe do something about it.
so have a glare tossed your way, keith, just a little diluted by the water pattering down over the side of his face. [
You snooze, you lose, mullet.
[ a true sign of just how desperate he is for a confrontation if it'll be a suitable distraction: his regression into tired old taunts. ]
[There's a lingering glare; he's so much more than a mullet.
He's not getting any more endeared to standing there outside of the tub; the floor's cold and he stinks. Once he's sure he's reached a suitable quota of glaretime (read as: gotten his point accross, except Lance is a pain and will incur his wrath again in no time) he's stepping in behind Lance, facing the wall, arms crossed...
HE'S BARELY GETTING ANY WATER?]
Just move the nozzle, you're taking up the whole tub.
[While reaching for the shampoo, which is entirely useless unless he can get his hair soaked in clean, neutral-smelling water rather than the triple-E contaminant currently in his hair.]
[ how can he take up the whole tub, he's a noodle?? don't be so unreasonable, keith, that's lance's job.
case in point: he totally freaks out when he sees that hand come out of nowhere (except not really out of nowhere, since it's very obviously coming from behind him, at his side) and he yelps, nearly jumping away from it. ]
Hey hey hey [ abuhbuhbuhbuh ] stay on your side of the tub!
[ in his panic, he just swipes up the nearest bottle (it's his shampoo, cries) and shoves into the blindly groping hand. ]
[why would you abba him in this thread, in this tub? The Gasp™ happens followed by permanently furrowed brows.
At least he gets some shampoo out of it.
Also, he's not TECHNICALLY taking up most of the tub, no, he's just in direct line of the shower and it's making Keith upset.]
Thanks.
[Flat, but relieved. Not to suggest he's satisfied just with Lance's Patchouli Real Silk Shampoo. He's gonna back up and, more or less, shove himself against Lance in the most lewd of hipchecks just to access some of that water more precisely. It's a hipceck with his butt....there was some shoulder involvement too. Just get out of the way for a minute, Lance.]
[ suddenly butts?! touching?! only for like half a second, sure, but it still counts! and it's a total no-no!
he stumbles forward; thankfully there isn't much room to actually trip forward or anything, but he does lose balance for a second, only able to catch himself by slamming both hands on the opposite wall. ]
[Oh look at this, full access to waterflow. He's gonna take advantage of that, making sure to fully soak his head and shoulders (knees and toes, knees and toes) while Lance experiences a surge of gay panic.]
I wasn't touching you. [At least he seems completely distracted from the brownish swamp colored water flowing between their feet and swirling down the drain, which would have been the next thing he'd have to hear about...probably. He's a dainty girl deep down inside.] I told you, you're in the way.
[All's well, however. He's already stepping out of the spray to soap up his hair. Of course, he'll have to bump him again in a second...but for now their kingdom can experience some peace. On the other hand, Keith should maybe be less picky about who's standing where on principle of him suggesting this arrangement to begin with.]
[ if anything, keith's blase attitude about this whole thing only serves to further anger lance... which is honestly a much more preferred reaction than anything else that could be incited by the idea of a naked keith standing less than a foot away from him.
he grits his teeth, resolving to just bear with it for a few seconds. he's quick to remind himself keith takes like one minute to clean up, because he's actually a caveman. but a second later he gets a waft of a familiar scent — coconut and argan oil. (or the alien equivalent of them...) ]
Hey! That's mine!
[ despite having handed it to him himself, lance twists around, snatching the bottle from keith's hand to hold it protectively against his chest. ]
You're gonna use it all up trying to salvage that mess on your head...
[Keith's in the middle of single-handedly kneading his mullet with that stank ass shampoo when Lance snatches it back. There's an over the shoulder glance, an upward tug at the corner of his lips...]
I was finished with it anyway.
[Nearly complete without a chuckle. He does end up laughing midway through, because consistently owning Lance isn't something he does often. The setting somehow enhances the stupidity of it all.
Lance made him laugh in the same thread where he talked about his probably-dead family, and over how ugly his mullet is.]
[ NEXT TIME, HE SAYS which lance is wholeheartedly ignoring right now, thanks. there are more important things to be doing than having a gay panic over some distant, hypothetical situation.
such has having one about a current, very real situation, because when was even the last time keith laughed like that?
no no, there's no time for this!! he has to get clean, and get out, so he can curl up in bed and forget this night ever even happened. he's sorry billy, but you must remain a bleak moment in his past now. ]
Just for that, you can get the soap yourself.
[ HMPH. turning back around, lance goes about the sacred ritual of lathering up his hair, counting to three whole minutes while steadily massaging his fingers against his scalp, because self-care is important kids. ]
[Jeeze louise. Lance is the only one freaking out about shower essentials and trying to arrange who gets what and how. It's dark enough...it's fine.
In the middle of Lance's forty-five minute hair lathering technique, Keith's turned around to try and catch water between cupped hands, using whatever he can to rinse at his hair. Lance may've tried to establish a no touching rule, and while the tub's big enough to handle a full grown golden retriever (ish), it isn't that convenient. This isn't the Ritz. He may bump him with an elbow in one of his final collections.]
[ there he'd been, enjoying the comfort and peace of a nice shampoo... warm water running down his back.
and keith once again ruins it by reminding lance that he is very much right there, way too close for comfort.
he throws a glare over his shoulder in response to that, because he so totally doesn't believe you, but in the process part of his head falls under the waterfall, causing a lot of the lather to fall over his face which means—]
[Keith, literally facing the wrong way all the time, elbows all over the place.
He can't discern the glare, but he knows Lance is being shitty in his direction in some form. There's a stern look offered in exchange, it's a Mexican standoff--]
Huh? I didn't hit your eye!
[At least, he doesn't think so, and if he did, that's an incredibly delayed reaction.]
[ he's got his hands pressed up against his eye now, out of reflex, which was honestly a bad idea too because his hands had still been full of lather. ]
Move over, I gotta get under the water—
[ he surges forward, prepared to body check keith aside so he can hold his eye under the water... hope you listened to him. ]
[So, he kinda was prepared to move, but kinda not; he ends up being nudge-pushed a bit, which is marked by a gruff exhale. Forcing Lance to be aware of how annoying he is 24/7.]
What's wrong with it then?!
[Maybe if he didn't spend 15 straight days lathering it up......]
[ look lance doesn't have time to explain how soap + eye is not a good combination, okay, he's got an eye to save here. and he does so by walking right under the spray, tilting his head up and forcing his eye open right where the water hits. eventually the sting from the soap ebbs, even if now his eye is complaining about the pressure from the water. ]
Ahh...
[ he sounds so relieved, it's like he just peed or something. ]
Lance is all fidgety at the edge of his view (see he's not even facing him anymore), and it sounds like he's...fixed whatever happened to his eye. Glad it's not falling out of his skull.]
[ the only kind of quick math lance can do is the kind that conveniences him the most.
but fine, whatever. lance will hand the generic bar soap that he'd bought before, assuming that's the kind keith would use, and pointedly doesn't hand him the body wash bottle that he himself defers to.
[He takes the soap, though it immediately slips upward from his grip. It's caught soundly enough -- trapped between both palms before it can get lost between their feet or knock anyone out cold.
This is why he always wears gloves. The grip.]
Are you already done with it?
[Stupid question as he lathers himself up. Lance probably needs to soap up his entire body, let it sit for 25 minutes...blah blah...Keith's just trying to estimate how much time he's got with the soap.]
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After that, he's just gonna quietly follow Lance. They're like two prisoners of war being lead to their chambers...but they're leading themselves and instead of wartime it's just gaytime.]
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anyway, here they go. about to do a totally normal thing. after a totally normal night. no big deal. noooo big deal.
once he enters the bathroom, lance doesn't even bother to turn on the light since they're just going to turn it off anyway. it's not like he really needs to see that much to finish tugging off his wet shirt, which feels about five times heavier from all the marsh it dragged back in. since he's ahead, he can easily keep his back to the other, quietly working on toeing off his boots... and then his pants next, wincing when the zipper is a little too loud. (in reality, it's just that everything else is a little too quiet.) he keep his underwear on for now, kicking the rest of his discarded clothing off to the side. leaning over into the shower stall, he starts the water up, trying to get it to just the right temperature. ]
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Backtracking a tiny bit, he'll turn the hallway light on, then proceed into the bathroom, boots squeaking to mark each step. He'll be shedding those first and foremost; they've been a source of discomfort since they filled with swampass water. He's pointedly ignoring Lance, too. Aware of him to know where he is, exactly, but nothing beyond that. Two bros, stripping in a bathroom five feet apart because they're not gay.]
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he debates on which way to face for a full minute, not sure which one would ensure less eye contact. in the end, he faces the front, letting his face tip up towards the spray of the shower to try and wash what he can from his hair and face. ]
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He is, deep down, a liiiiiiiiittle bit nervous, which says a lot. Keith doesn't usually get nervous. Any survival skill he should possess has been replaced with CHARGE IN HEAD FIRST.
Which is practically what he does, shoving the curtain aside and almost walking directly into Lance. Shows how much he'd been paying attention. More importantly...]
Why do you get to face the spray?!
[Of course he'd pick the good spot. The fact that his whole ass and pebis is out matters so little now. Like, remember when nazis ran over that girl or are we still losing it over antifa?]
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so have a glare tossed your way, keith, just a little diluted by the water pattering down over the side of his face. [
You snooze, you lose, mullet.
[ a true sign of just how desperate he is for a confrontation if it'll be a suitable distraction: his regression into tired old taunts. ]
Might as well just wait till I'm done.
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He's not getting any more endeared to standing there outside of the tub; the floor's cold and he stinks. Once he's sure he's reached a suitable quota of glaretime (read as: gotten his point accross, except Lance is a pain and will incur his wrath again in no time) he's stepping in behind Lance, facing the wall, arms crossed...
HE'S BARELY GETTING ANY WATER?]
Just move the nozzle, you're taking up the whole tub.
[While reaching for the shampoo, which is entirely useless unless he can get his hair soaked in clean, neutral-smelling water rather than the triple-E contaminant currently in his hair.]
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case in point: he totally freaks out when he sees that hand come out of nowhere (except not really out of nowhere, since it's very obviously coming from behind him, at his side) and he yelps, nearly jumping away from it. ]
Hey hey hey [ abuhbuhbuhbuh ] stay on your side of the tub!
[ in his panic, he just swipes up the nearest bottle (it's his shampoo, cries) and shoves into the blindly groping hand. ]
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At least he gets some shampoo out of it.
Also, he's not TECHNICALLY taking up most of the tub, no, he's just in direct line of the shower and it's making Keith upset.]
Thanks.
[Flat, but relieved. Not to suggest he's satisfied just with Lance's Patchouli Real Silk Shampoo. He's gonna back up and, more or less, shove himself against Lance in the most lewd of hipchecks just to access some of that water more precisely. It's a hipceck with his butt....there was some shoulder involvement too. Just get out of the way for a minute, Lance.]
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[ suddenly butts?! touching?! only for like half a second, sure, but it still counts! and it's a total no-no!
he stumbles forward; thankfully there isn't much room to actually trip forward or anything, but he does lose balance for a second, only able to catch himself by slamming both hands on the opposite wall. ]
Okay, new rule! No touching! Never any touching!!
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[Oh look at this, full access to waterflow. He's gonna take advantage of that, making sure to fully soak his head and shoulders (knees and toes, knees and toes) while Lance experiences a surge of gay panic.]
I wasn't touching you. [At least he seems completely distracted from the brownish swamp colored water flowing between their feet and swirling down the drain, which would have been the next thing he'd have to hear about...probably. He's a dainty girl deep down inside.] I told you, you're in the way.
[All's well, however. He's already stepping out of the spray to soap up his hair. Of course, he'll have to bump him again in a second...but for now their kingdom can experience some peace. On the other hand, Keith should maybe be less picky about who's standing where on principle of him suggesting this arrangement to begin with.]
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he grits his teeth, resolving to just bear with it for a few seconds. he's quick to remind himself keith takes like one minute to clean up, because he's actually a caveman. but a second later he gets a waft of a familiar scent — coconut and argan oil. (or the alien equivalent of them...) ]
Hey! That's mine!
[ despite having handed it to him himself, lance twists around, snatching the bottle from keith's hand to hold it protectively against his chest. ]
You're gonna use it all up trying to salvage that mess on your head...
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I was finished with it anyway.
[Nearly complete without a chuckle. He does end up laughing midway through, because consistently owning Lance isn't something he does often. The setting somehow enhances the stupidity of it all.
Lance made him laugh in the same thread where he talked about his probably-dead family, and over how ugly his mullet is.]
Don't give it to me next time.
[NEXT TIME, HE SAYS.]
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such has having one about a current, very real situation, because when was even the last time keith laughed like that?
no no, there's no time for this!! he has to get clean, and get out, so he can curl up in bed and forget this night ever even happened. he's sorry billy, but you must remain a bleak moment in his past now. ]
Just for that, you can get the soap yourself.
[ HMPH. turning back around, lance goes about the sacred ritual of lathering up his hair, counting to three whole minutes while steadily massaging his fingers against his scalp, because self-care is important kids. ]
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[Jeeze louise. Lance is the only one freaking out about shower essentials and trying to arrange who gets what and how. It's dark enough...it's fine.
In the middle of Lance's forty-five minute hair lathering technique, Keith's turned around to try and catch water between cupped hands, using whatever he can to rinse at his hair. Lance may've tried to establish a no touching rule, and while the tub's big enough to handle a full grown golden retriever (ish), it isn't that convenient. This isn't the Ritz. He may bump him with an elbow in one of his final collections.]
-- Sorry.
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and keith once again ruins it by reminding lance that he is very much right there, way too close for comfort.
he throws a glare over his shoulder in response to that, because he so totally doesn't believe you, but in the process part of his head falls under the waterfall, causing a lot of the lather to fall over his face which means—]
—ow, my eye!
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He can't discern the glare, but he knows Lance is being shitty in his direction in some form. There's a stern look offered in exchange, it's a Mexican standoff--]
Huh? I didn't hit your eye!
[At least, he doesn't think so, and if he did, that's an incredibly delayed reaction.]
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[ he's got his hands pressed up against his eye now, out of reflex, which was honestly a bad idea too because his hands had still been full of lather. ]
Move over, I gotta get under the water—
[ he surges forward, prepared to body check keith aside so he can hold his eye under the water... hope you listened to him. ]
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What's wrong with it then?!
[Maybe if he didn't spend 15 straight days lathering it up......]
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Ahh...
[ he sounds so relieved, it's like he just peed or something. ]
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Lance is all fidgety at the edge of his view (see he's not even facing him anymore), and it sounds like he's...fixed whatever happened to his eye. Glad it's not falling out of his skull.]
Are you done hogging the water again?
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but hmph. fine. lance will slowly start to inch away from the spray now, frowning over his shoulder. ]
Aren't you almost done? It's been five whole minutes.
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[How can Lance even know with accuracy?! If anything, it's taking him longer because of Lance's presence. He's barely had a fair shot at the water.]
I still need the soap. Are you using it?
[While inching back a bit, occupying the space Lance provided.]
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but fine, whatever. lance will hand the generic bar soap that he'd bought before, assuming that's the kind keith would use, and pointedly doesn't hand him the body wash bottle that he himself defers to.
make sure not to drop the soap...
jk this isn't that kind of game. ]
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This is why he always wears gloves. The grip.]
Are you already done with it?
[Stupid question as he lathers himself up. Lance probably needs to soap up his entire body, let it sit for 25 minutes...blah blah...Keith's just trying to estimate how much time he's got with the soap.]
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