I know, I know, "You have FOUR other stories in the making, Mockingbird, why are you writing this?!" Well, I have no good answer for that except, I got a writing prompt, and this came into mind, and I loved it, so I thought I would share. Enjoy the fluff!

Lance swaggered over to Keith, clearly having drunk those 2+ drinks Keith specifically told him not to drink. "How ya doing cutie?" He asked, winking lavishly at his raven-haired partner. His eyeliner was on fleek, Keith noticed. He had a dark smoky eye going on, and it looked really good on him. Keith was sure he'd fallen for his boyfriend, but his walls wouldn't let him tell.

Keith blushed, he didn't like public displays of affection; how much his Cuban boyfriend loves him is for him to know, not everyone else at this crappy bar. Said boyfriend was also very frustrating, as he was proving right now. "You shouldn't've taken those last two shots," he whispered to the brown-haired, male, bombshell, not feeling like the other people needed to know what he was saying, "you're all tipsy now."

"I'm tipsy and I know it!" Lance sung (shouted.) He started to sway his hips to the beat of the song playing in the background. "Work, work, work. You see me I be work, work, work, work…"

Never had Keith been more embarrassed. That's a lie. There was that one time in Venezuela Lance had… Keith shook his head, no time for back flash-ing, focus on the problem at hand. People from around the bar started cheering, Keith turned his head to see what it was about, preparing for the worst, and there he was, twerking on the table.

"Lance!" He hissed, he wasn't prepared for this worst. This was most definitely the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him. "Get down from there!" To answer, Lance smirked and kept "dancing".

"Dang it, Lance!" He thought. "People know I'm here with you!"

Of all the dances! He chose twerking! What the heck! Keith pulled his drunk boyfriend off the table and dragged him, by the ear, to a dark corner at the side of the bar. "What are you thinking? You don't just get up on a table and…" Keith blushed red at the word, he might be able to think many things, but saying them, not so much.

"Aww." His brown-haired lover cooed annoyingly loud. "He's embarrassed!" He reached down to pat the shorter boys head, Keith was over half a foot shorter than the 6'2" "giant", Keith's nickname for Lance when he teased about his height. But Keith batted it away.

"Yes," he whispered, stomping indignantly on the carpeted floor, "I am embarrassed! Now can we please go?" He pleaded, desperate to leave, it had been a bad idea to come here.

Once again, Lance smirked, and did the exact opposite than what Keith had asked him to do. "You know, Keith," He said, still not caring if anyone heard him sweet-talking his boyfriend, "you look really cute when you're all riled up." He then put his arms on Keith's shoulders and swayed back and forth like they were at a high school dance. "I love you… you know that, right?" He mumbled into Keith's black hair.

Keith awkwardly patted the back of Lance's head, obvious displays of affection weren't his thing, and probably never will be. This was his chance, he could tell Lance he loved him, to reply to his affections. "I… let's get you home, alright?" He kicked himself mentally, that was his chance, and he had turned it down.

"Okay shorty, but, I think you have to drive…" Lance drifted off again, even starting to snore this time.

"What if he hates you tomorrow?" That little voice in his head whispered. "He just confessed the big one, the all amazing L-word, and you didn't reciprocate."

The taller boy had started drifting off on Keith's shoulder, which was probably extremely uncomfortable and terrible for his neck. Keith shoved all his worries in the back of his brain and pushed his beautiful boyfriend of him. "Ya think? If I let you drive we'd be dead within seconds!"

"What!" Lance cried indignantly, jumping up immediately. "Challenge accepted!" With that, he sprinted out the bar towards the car. Keith ran out after him, knowing that Lance would most definitely, 100%, drive the car. "Anything is a challenge if you look at it that way" could be his moto.

Later that night, Keith looked at his sleeping boyfriend, loving the way he slept with his hand over his pillow, his legs snuggled up tight, as if he was spooning someone. His face soft and peaceful, his mouth, that, when he was awake, seemed to never stop moving, curved into a delicate almost-frown. His flawless eyebrows perfectly topping his eyes. Keith got up to leave for his house, looking forward to his own bed, but regretting already to have to leave Lance.

As he shut the door, he heard Lance mumble. "There's plenty of room for you." Keith looked back into the room, the pillow Lance had been spooning was thrown on the floor, and the attractive Cuban was in that cheesy, lying-on-one-side-because-it's-"sexy", pose. The brown-haired boy winked, although looking as if he could sleep for days, and was probably fighting off sleep.

Without saying a word, because he would've mumbled incoherently for hours on end if he did try to speak, he climbed into the bed. Within seconds Lance had snuggled up to him and his arm was around his waist. Keith immediately felt a hard day's work fall onto him, and his eyelids fluttered shut.

Without thinking, he whispered, as he drifted into La-La Land. "I love you too."

The next day he would be woken up by an elated, jumping-off-the-walls Lance who had cake with candles on it, the icing spelling out "HE FINALLY SAID IT!" in bold letters.

Alrighty, before y'all say anything more about starting yet another story, this is a one-shot, nothing more. I hoped you liked it!

THE PROMPT:

Two people in a relationship are at a bar having a fight; one doesn't care about the public setting, the other hates it.