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Chapter Text

Seventeen Christmases Ago 

The first thing Keith learned about Christmas was how fast Christmas trees burn. 

“Just like that,” Keith’s father snapped in front of Keith’s face with a chuckle. “And it’ll go up.” 

His father had come home that night smelling like burnt paint and Frasier fir. It was the fifth Christmas tree fire that week. The trees had been dry that year, his father said, and it was causing them to go up like Roman candles. 

“Do your old man a favor,” he ruffled Keith’s hair. “Don’t get a real tree. The fake ones are nice enough.”

Whenever his father came home from fighting fires, he always smelled like candy canes. Keith would later realize this was a body spray in order to try and get rid of the smell of smoke, better their house smelled like mint than something burning. 

Keith was five years old and knew that Christmas meant the smell of burnt pine needles and peppermints. And his father never wanted him to have a Christmas tree.

That was all he felt necessary to know about Christmas. Sure, there were presents and songs and traditions, but none of that felt as important. Most of the stereotypical Christmas things also had a kid with a mom and dad, and that wasn’t how life went anyways. 

His mom was never really in the picture and his dad didn’t like Christmas trees so Keith was pretty used to his holidays being a little different. 

He didn’t mind it, not until much later that year. 

When his dad didn’t pick him up from school and instead there was a police officer and a stern-looking woman with a bunch of papers, that was strangely his first thought. 

The first thing he knew was that holidays were about to be even more different. And a whole lot worse. 

Fifteen Christmases Ago 

Keith tried to give the foster home credit. 

Thanksgiving had come and gone with dry turkey and watery gravy. It was a forgotten holiday, intentionally set aside so his foster parents could focus on providing a decent Christmas for the eight kids in the house. 

Keith was seven years old and didn’t think they had to worry because the boys that were in the room across the hall were definitely getting coal. 

His foster mother reassured him that Santa would know that his living situation had changed and bring his presents to the right address. She also said that sweet little boys got great gifts and he didn’t need to worry. 

Keith was relieved. There was a lot of innocence still clouded in his head, despite the hurt that came from being shuffled through his remaining family the past two years. There had been a handful of great-relatives: great-aunts and great-uncles that tried but slowly realized they didn’t have the ability to watch a growing boy. Keith didn’t blame them, he never expected any of their homes to be permanent, with that constant smell of mothballs and pet food. 

Nevertheless, he was a little surprised to find out that Santa had been able to keep track of his location through the chaotic mess of months. 

His foster mother suggested he write a wishlist and she would take it to the post office the next morning so Santa would see his address, just in case.

Keith was quick to follow her suggestion, darting upstairs to his room and pulling out his nicest notebook paper. 

Keith was seven years old and more concerned with Santa finding him than other things, so he never thought to lock the door of his bedroom. After all, it was a fire hazard. 

(Keith had become a little obsessed with fire safety over the past twenty months, but considering the circumstances, it was understandable.) 

So the mean boys that deserved a mountain of coal stomped into his room, spotting Keith tucked at the old wooden desk, writing in his neatest penmanship. 

One of the boys let out a rude laugh. “Are you seriously writing to Santa?”

Keith looked up with surprise. “Yes?”

Another boy snatched up the list, reading it with his tiny eyes and keeping his nose upturned.

“Dear Santa,” he read out, voice sharp and taunting, “I hope that you are still able to give gifts when there is no chimney. If you can, I would please like a Hot Wheels fire truck and the new race track. My foster mother also wants me to read more, so I’d like a book as well.”

“You idiot,” the other boy snarled. “Santa isn’t real .”

Keith felt his stomach hollow. “That’s not true.”

“You are such a baby,” the other sneered. “Did you seriously think that a fat man in a red suit came to everyone’s house in one night?”

“But, but–”

They cut Keith off, grabbing him by the arms and hauling him out of his room and down to the basement. While one of the boys kept watch, the other picked the lock to the storage closet.

“This is stupid,” Keith crossed his arms to hide their trembling. “You two are just mad you are going to get coal.”

That earned ugly barks of laughter. With a hoot, the boy wrenched open the closet. 

Keith stared at the mess of toys. He recognized dolls and toys from the Dollar Store, books and clothes from Walmart, a clear attempt of his foster parents trying to do their best. 

“But–”

Keith was still hoping, still clinging onto that last morsel of childish naivety, until he saw the bright red of a firetruck hidden under a pile of dresses.

Then he felt something break open inside him. 

Thirteen Christmases Ago 

Keith was nine years old and knew he was being a bit of an asshole. 

Asshole was moderately new to his vocabulary and he only knew it from overhearing the older boys. He knew it was an insult, meant for people with a bad attitude, so he figured it fit. 

“Come on, Keith,” Mrs. Elise said gently, nudging him further in the line. 

The other kids around him were hopping around excitedly, chattering loudly about inconsequential requests they were going to ask.

They were sandwiched in a tight line. The cold air was cut by the body warmth and Keith felt sweaty and uncomfortable. One of his foster sisters was screeching excitedly in his ear and he could feel himself start to get angry. And the angrier he got, the more frustrated he became.

Because he liked Mrs. Elise. She was nice and pretty and her blond curls always smelled like flowers. She never yelled and was super nice to the children. And he didn’t want to ruin this one. He wanted to stay. 

So he needed to not freak out. 

The red carpet was unsteady under his feet, kicked up and dirty from snow and grass and God, he hated this, hated it, hated it, hated it.

With more rage than a nine year old should be able to summon, he glared at the grand armchair, when an old man in a fat suit sat dressed as Santa. Kids were bouncing everywhere, excitedly telling the man what they wanted for Christmas. The man was listening eagerly, nodding with a lot of ho, ho, ho’s. 

Phony. 

“I am not doing it,” Keith snapped.

Mrs. Elise frowned. “Why not?”

Keith mustered as much venom in his gaze as possible as he looked up at her. “Why do you think?”

Realization dawned on her face. 

She knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Did you find out our little secret?”

“Like two years ago,” Keith scowled. “I’m not some baby that believes in–”

“Now hold on,” Elise cut him off gently. “I’m sorry that you were introduced to the secret without learning the secret about The Secret.”

Keith frowned. “There’s another secret?”

“Of course!” She said with a smile. “You see, you were given a super important job once you were told The Secret. Because now you join the rest of us that keep it. And the keepers are in charge of keeping the Santa magic going. It’s a big responsibility.”

Keith chewed his lip. “I didn’t want to be told.”

Ridiculously, he felt his eyes start to burn. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He knew that there was no way he was about to start crying about knowing Santa wasn’t real. This was stupid, he was being such a wimp, if the older boys found out–

Elise smiled sadly at him. “I know, Keith. No one really wants to. Because it’s so much nicer thinking that it’s all magic. But guess where the magic actually comes from?”

She gently tapped his chest.

“It comes from us,” she said gently. “Isn’t that so much cooler?” 

“I guess.”

Elise touched his cheek gently. “I think you will be one of the best secret keepers.”

Keith studied her face, wondering if she was right. 

She ruffled his hair and rose to her feet, gathering the other kids with a warm smile. Keith looked up at her and thought that this was what a mom should look like.

Someone that smiled a lot and wore perfume and gave good hugs. Not a blurred memory of stiff arms holding him, so distorted that he wasn’t sure if he made it up.

He realized he loved Mrs. Elise. 

And vowed to be the best secret keeper, even after he was moved out of her house, five days before Christmas.

Eleven Christmases Ago

This was stupid. 

Keith’s fingers dug into the corners of his book, the spine creaking as he forced himself to stay put.

“A letter to Santa?” An older foster boy, Warren, crooned, leaning over Caroline with a dangerous smile. 

Caroline was six years old and probably the cutest kid Keith had ever seen. She still had eyes clear from damage and was relatively well-adjusted. Keith had become strangely focused on keeping her that way.

But he also knew when to pick his fights.

So he tried to keep to the smart decision to not challenge the biggest kid in the home.

“Hey!”

Warren ripped up Caroline’s paper with a grin. 

“Dear Santa,” he said, voice pitched high with mockery. “I hope you will still give me presents if I don’t have a chimney.”

Keith’s fingers went cold. 

“If so, I would like a Beach Barbie,” Warren continued, titters from the other kids rising at his rolled eyes. “And a car for her to drive in. I can use the sink as her pool but I would like to have a ladder for her to use.”

“Give it back!” Caroline was on her feet, face flushed with embarrassment. 

Keith closed his book. 

Warren leaned down close to her. “Let me tell you a big girl secret, Caroline. Santa’s not–”

I think you will be one of the best secret keepers. 

Keith’s book smacked Warren clean across the face. 

The sound was sucked out of the room. All of the kids watched with wide eyes as Warren slowly rose to his full height, cheek swelling red.

Slowly, he faced where Keith sat calmly. 

“Warren,” he said, carefully keeping his voice even. “Don’t be a dick.”

“You’re gonna eat shit for that, Kogane.”

“Okay,” Keith agreed. “Just don’t, don’t do that.”

Caroline, eyes brimming with unshed tears, looked curiously between Warren and Keith. “What?”

Warren sized Keith up. He apparently decided he was no concern.

“Santa’s not–”

Warren was a big kid. He was fifteen and stocky and planning to try out for the football team at their high school next year. But Keith was eleven and skinny and fast . 

It was almost too easy for Keith to get out of his seat, get across the room, and shove Warren as hard as he could. The kid stumbled, arms pinwheeling, and Keith took that opportunity to snatch Caroline up. 

Plowing his elbow into Warren’s stomach, Keith spun and notched Caroline on his hip, marching out of the room. 

Caroline was crying, maybe because she was scared, maybe because she figured it out. 

“Ignore him,” Keith muttered. “He’s just mad because he’s getting coal.”

Caroline’s sobs were interrupted by a surprised giggle. Keith felt his heart rate slow ever so slightly. 

There was commotion behind him. It would be a matter of minutes before the foster parents found out and Keith would have a pair of very angry adults to deal with. Maybe he would be even told to pack his bags. He wouldn’t be surprised. If he got moved this close to Christmas, he was pretty much guaranteed to not have any presents. It would probably seem like a fitting punishment to them. 

This is stupid , a venomous part of him whispered. Warren can just tell her tomorrow and you probably lost Christmas.

A more reasonable part of Keith didn’t care. He had already lost Christmas years ago, while Caroline could maybe have one more day of it. 

***

Warren told her on their way to Elf Night.

Keith wanted to jump out of the cart the instant he did. Keith had already been stuck with babysitting duty after starting a fight with Warren. He was going to be in charge of Caroline and the other six under six. He was already stressed about watching them all. Now watching Caroline’s face fall in confusion and quickly screw up with tears, he wondered how badly getting road rash actually hurt.

They crammed into the crowd, tight and too warm, and Keith pressed his lips so tight together they hurt. 

The older fosters immediately disappeared, leaving Keith with the little ones. 

The other kids were arguing over where to go first. Caroline cried against Keith’s hip at every sight of Santa. His head already pounded from the music and constantly counting off the kids. 

He tried to think of what Mrs. Elise would say.

He bent down and scooped up the sobbing Caroline and hitched her on his hip. She cried into his neck, the tears and snot scraping against his freezing skin, and Keith felt his own throat tighten.

He herded the other kids, confused why Caroline was so upset, and pointed them to the nearest stall with a game. 

He dumped a handful of quarters in their pink fingers and sat with Caroline at one of the benches. He rubbed her back and pushed back the sour feeling of stress and annoyance and tried to calm down.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry you found out about the secret, but there’s a secret to The Secret.”

Nine Christmases Ago 

Keith trusted Takashi Shirogane about as far as he could throw him.

And considering Shiro was tall and strong with about seventy pounds on Keith, he trusted him very little. 

He spent the first two months after the Shiroganes adopted him in his room. His room was nice, larger than the ones he would share with two to three other boys.

It was kept relatively simple, a blank canvas for Keith to make his own. The closet was stocked with new clothing and fresh bedding was folded on the dresser. The Shiroganes had assured him that they would take him shopping for paint colors the second he asked. 

He didn’t.

He read and paced and eyed the stash of new clothes and bedding as if it would bite him.

He continued to wear his old clothes and use his old bedding, retrieving it all from the canvas grocery bags he carried them in. 

Touching the clothes prepared for him would make it all permanent. Would connect him to this place in a way that would make him too vulnerable.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t get attached because then he would be back in the group home the second he dared to let his guard down. He was sure that the Shiroganes were just looking for something to do with Shiro in college. Something to keep their minds off of their son living so far away, where there were snowy Christmases that Keith found bewildering. Rachel Shirogane was loud and laughed loudly, while Tony was quiet but kind. They were sweet people, caring, so Keith couldn’t let them in. 

Keith was thirteen and expected they would just keep him and clothe him for a couple years, then dump him once his sob story got him a decent scholarship at the local university. 

So he didn’t get close. Didn’t open the closet and smell the clean detergent and crisp new clothes. 

They gave him his space, for the most part.

Shiro was annoyingly persistent whenever he came home. He had even made Keith come up to stay with him in his apartment during Thanksgiving break. It had been fairly uneventful, the two of them spending most of the time in a moderately comfortable silence. But Keith had enjoyed it, had liked the way snow felt on his face or his boots.

Not that he would tell anyone that.

But Shiro was persistent. Was determined to crack Keith. 

And he finally did, though likely not in the way he intended. 

***

He should have known the moment he smelled pine needles. 

Keith staggered back, bile arching up his throat. His mouth burned as his back hit the wall. His stomach heaved and chest rioted as he gaped at the Christmas tree. 

The real Christmas tree. 

“Do your old man a favor.” 

It was huge, massive branches with vibrant green needles. The shining star at the top just about scraped the ceiling.The branches were strong, laden with ornaments and string lights. 

The Shiroganes were all grinning, watching for his reaction. 

But Keith could taste smoke and fire. 

“Don’t get a real tree. The fake ones are nice enough.”

Their smiles started to drop. 

Shiro leaned forward, reaching out. “Keith?”

Keith lurched away, head spinning. He accidentally kicked the couch, pain springing up his foot as he stumbled out of the living room.

He broke out into the cold air, sucking in lungfuls of icy wind to try to force back the vomit. His hip knocked against the porch railing and he stayed there, digging his nails into the wood. 

He was still trembling when the porch door slid open. The heavy footballs told him it was Shiro.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said through chattering teeth. “I know it was supposed to be a good surprise.”

“And it was a bad one instead,” Shiro leaned next to him, exhaling and watching his breath cloud. “Want to tell me why?”

Keith picked at his nails, sliding his jaw side to side. It felt too stupid to say, childish and ungrateful and assholish.

“I’ll get over it.”

“Keith,” Shiro sighed, turning to face him. “This is your house too. We are your family. We don’t want to make your Christmas suck.”

Keith dropped his head, raking his hands through his hair and swallowing back the urge to shove Shiro back and scream that he didn’t care, there was no point because at this point, Keith hated Christmas. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the smell, the songs, the taste, the artificial feeling pasted over a world that was so sad and depressed it relied on obnoxious cheer and capitalism to keep spinning. 

But the words were terrible and awful and cold and Keith didn’t want to seem that cruel to Shiro. That broken. 

“Keith,” Shiro repeated gently. “You have to tell us your triggers. Otherwise, we won’t know what to do.”

Keith caught the recoil in his teeth. “I’m fine.”

Shiro shot him an unimpressed look.

Keith suddenly realized that he wouldn’t be getting out of this without giving Shiro something. He tried to think of something simple, something relatively clean and good. 

“Christmas trees are a fire hazard,” he said finally. “My dad didn’t like them.”

Shiro nodded instantly. “Then we will get rid of it.”

And that was that. 

***

So Shiro coaxed Keith open. 

Made him a human that was able to begin to communicate with other humans. And Keith began to trust him. Maybe got a little too attached, much too dependent.

Because then Shiro was talking about a boyfriend up in his college town. Maybe he could come down for the end of their winter break and Mary and Tony agreed. Keith had never been madder.

Because having a boyfriend meant that Shiro was planting roots in that town with snowy Christmases. 

And that wouldn’t do. 

***

“You suck, you know that?” Sihro asked goodnaturedly.

Keith scoffed, crossing his arms and sulking from where he was sitting in the bathtub, stubbornly watching Shiro fish out Adam’s keys from the toilet.

Adam had been annoyingly cool about it. They had all been searching for Adam’s keys for like thirty minutes, temperaments dropping while Adam began to check his watch more consistently, ensuring that he didn’t miss his flight. 

Keith watched all of this with a poker face that had been honed for a decade. 

It was Mary who had found them, letting out a shout of surprise when she checked the bathroom to see the keys in the toilet. Ever the kind soul, she had thought they had fallen out of Adam's pocket while he was in there.

Keith was willing to go along with that story. It was Shiro who had turned and given Keith a hard look that clearly said are you for real right now ? 

No one got mad at Keith, which had pissed him off even more. He wanted them to yell at him, to cause a commotion, but all they did was sigh and apologize to Adam, who laughed it off. 

His punishment had been to fish them out, but Shiro didn’t even let him. 

No. He was a sick bastard and made Keith watch him get them out of the toilet. Keith was stuck in the bathtub, sitting with his rising guilt as Shiro ruined a pair of kitchen tongs. Adam was being served another hot cider in the living room. 

Keith hated everything. 

Shiro turned, dangling the tongs holding keys in Keith’s face. Keith snapped his teeth and looked away.

“Good, you got them,” Keith said, punching out each word. “Now I can go to my room.”

He grabbed the edges of the tub, making to lift himself out.

“Nope,” Shiro let out a soft groan as he dropped off his knees and sat against the wall. “We are going to sit here and talk about it.”

“Or?”

Shiro raised his eyebrows and twisted the tongs to dangle the keys back over the toilet. “Or I’ll drop these and make you actually get them this time.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“The fob is already ruined,” Shiro said. “Don’t try me.”

Keith crossed his arms more firmly across his chest, glaring at his boots. “I’ll pay for the fob.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I said I will –”

“It’s going to be like two hundred dollars,” Shiro said evenly. “I am going to pay for it and you are going to pay me back.”

Keith slid his teeth together, furious.

“Don’t even start with that. Do your breathing.”

Keith wanted to put a hole through the wall. He squeezed his hands into fists but did what he was told, shutting his eyes and beginning the deep breathing technique his therapist had taught him. 

It was a way to calm him down and give him a second to think before he spoke.

Shiro waited patiently for Keith to open his eyes again.

“Now,” he waved the keys. “Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know,” Keith grumbled. “I just wanted to scare him a little.”

Shiro looked unimpressed. “You are seriously playing the damaged little brother card?”

“It worked last time.”

“That’s because my last boyfriend was shallow and a bit of an asshole,” Shiro leaned forward. “Adam’s not. If anything, this probably made him like you more.”

Keith scowled.

“Why did you want to scare him?”

Now Keith was getting a little flighty, because his eyes were starting to burn. “Because.”

“Because why?” Shiro asked gently, kinder after he heard the wobble in Keith’s voice.

Keith swallowed a couple times, not speaking until he was sure his voice wouldn’t crack. 

“You are going to move up there, aren’t you?”

Shiro opened his mouth, and hesitated. “Yes.”

Keith cleared his throat, looking away as his gaze blurred. 

“Hey,” Shiro leaned forward, gently resting a hand on Keith’s knee. “That’s not Adam’s fault. I would want to live there even if I didn’t know him.”

“What’s the big deal?” Keith asked thickly. “Why do you like it so much?”

Shiro smiled at him. “Why don’t you find out?” 

Five Christmases Ago

Keith didn’t really need anything added to his Christmas hate arsenal.

But watching Shiro struggle to hang an ornament with one arm was going on the list.

He looked away, something sour rising in his gut.

It had been about three months since the car accident. Shiro’s arm had been pinned and was too messed up to be saved. He was recovering well, annoyingly positive in that annoying Shiro way, but they came up to celebrate Christmas, rather than making Shiro travel. 

Keith shoved his feet under the couch cushion, pressing his teeth tightly together as Shiro stumbled and then tried to hide it.

Shiro’s parents were at the hotel, making what they could of a Christmas dinner in the tiny kitchenette to bring over to Shiro and Adam’s apartment. Keith gladly took Shiro’s offer to crash on their couch rather than the hotel. 

Keith hated hotels, he hated feeling stuck in places full of people. It reminded him of group homes and caused all types of ugly instincts to roll back. But now he was regretting it, because he was sitting there, watching his brother struggle to decorate his tree, and needed to get some air before he punched something.

He was so sick of being angry. But it was impossible not to.

How could he not hate the world that seemed to ruin everything ? That burned his father to a crisp, made his mother disappear, ruined the childhoods of so many children, and pinned his brother in a car. 

The world reeked of hate and bad luck and Keith was feeling pretty fed up. 

His grades had dropped, which wasn’t great considering he was a junior and needed to start looking at colleges. His teachers were understanding enough, considering the circumstances, and Keith cynically knew that the college essay of an orphaned, gay Asian-American would do numbers. 

But it was hard to focus on his future in a world he despised.

He knew he wanted to go to college, wanted to pursue something in understanding how people think, but the first steps felt so impossible.

He watched Shiro take a moment, breathe, straighten his posture, and step to the side to accommodate his difficulty leaning.

Keith’s nails dug into his palms.

“Hey,” Adam had at one point walked up behind him. “Keith, I’ve been meaning to show you this bird nest on the fire escape.”

Keith opened his mouth to say something rude enough to get Shiro to yell at him, but Adam’s firm look caused his voice to die out.

He grumbled under his breath but got to his feet and followed Adam to the window.

“No leaning, babe!” Adam called before stepping out onto the fire escape. 

Shiro muttered something in assent before Keith followed.

It was freezing out on the metal stairs. Adam immediately sat on one of the steps, letting out a long breath that fogged out in the winter air. 

Keith shoved his hands in his pockets. “Where’s the nest?”

“Oh, there’s not one.”

Keith blinked. 

“Shiro can’t come out here anymore,” Adam said with a shrug. “So I figured it would be the easiest white lie to get you out here.”

“Well, I’m out here,” Keith said rudely. 

“Nice,” Adam said calmly. “Now, take a breath.”

“Excuse me?”

“Probably more than one,” Adam continued. “Considering how close you are to starting a fight.”

Keith sucked in a tight breath, spinning away from the challenging look on Adam’s face.

On most days, Keith could see why Shiro liked Adam so much. He didn’t scare easily. He was deceptively tough considering his penchant for glasses and sweater vests.

While Shiro and his parents tended to be maybe a little too accommodating with Keith’s issues, Adam wasn’t afraid to meet him head on and tell him when he was being an asshole.

The first time he did it, it was because Keith was arguing with nurses in the hospital. They hadn’t been listening to Adam, not understanding that yes, Shiro’s parents were here, but Adam was Shiro’s partner and would be his primary caretaker. Adam had his phone out, quickly typing what they were telling Shiro’s parents, despite Tony and Mary’s attempts to direct them towards Adam. 

Keith had been upset and the room smelled like antiseptic and cotton and Shiro looked a hundred miles away with stony eyes and a missing arm and he snapped. 

He had told the nurses to pull their heads out of their asses and talk to the person actually taking notes. 

The room had dropped into a stunned silence.

“Keith,” Adam had finally said. “Thank you, but please put your head in your ass and let them do their jobs.” 

They had glared at each other, the Shiroganes looked horrified, but it was the first emotion that had crossed Shiro’s face all day.

And Keith had done what he was told. 

So, from that day on, Adam didn’t deal with Keith’s bullshit.

And he certainly wasn’t going to now, considering the defiant look he had on his face.

“You can’t do this,” Adam said. “You can’t turn into this.”

“Turn into what?”

“Into a miserable bastard that hates the world only a little more than he hates himself.”

Keith snarled. “Really not pulling your punches today.”

“I can’t,” Adam said sternly. “Because I’m exhausted and stressed and upset and trying to give Shiro a good Christmas but I can’t when his little brother looks like he wants to punch something every time Shiro stumbles.”

“How do you not want to punch something?” Keith demanded. “It’s fucking terrible to watch. Shiro is the best person I know and now he has to relearn how to put ornaments on a tree!”

“I know,” Adam said patiently. “But you need to get over it.”

Keith glared at the metal platform. 

“Can I be shitty for a second?” Adam asked suddenly.

That took Keith off guard enough for him to look up. Adam was staring out over the railing, looking at the tiny, snow-dusted town below them. 

“Sure.”

“Where are you going to college?”

Keith recoiled from surprise. “What?”

“Are you considering here?” Adam asked, holding Keith’s gaze. “Because I’m going to be shitty and request that you consider it. Because I’m dying out here. I’m dying out here because Shiro is so determined to not be a damn burden that it’s driving both of us insane. And I need help.”

“Wait, but how would I–”

“Not with him,” Adam shook his head. “Never with him. I am happy taking care of Shiro, I’m fine with helping him to the shower on unsteady days and getting him through the tough nights. But sometimes I need a bird nest to look at. I need someone else to drive me insane.”

Adam watched Keith. 

Keith thought it over, surveying the snowy town below them. 

And slowly, hesitantly, maybe a bit of that future peeked through the haze. 

***

Keith was walking around the block, looking for something to do while Adam and Shiro were preparing dinner. The streets were almost empty, everyone tucking themselves in for the holiday. 

He studied the building that Adam had dreamed of buying. He wanted to own a bookstore and cafe, and his degree in business and Shiro’s in hospitality was the perfect combination. 

Keith wondered how far the dream would be pushed back now. 

He wandered a little further before coming up to one of the few lit buildings.

It was a simple white building, more long than it was tall, with gleaming brass letters above the large windows.

Altea Community Center.

Curiously, Keith poked his way inside.

It was warm. There were a couple of workers milling around a set of indoor playgrounds, smiling and laughing with the little kids running around. Picnic tables bordered the walls, filled with older kids either scrolling on their phones, reading or doing some sort of craft. 

“Hi! A short woman with a bright face and a name tag that said Patty came over. “Can I help you?”

“No, sorry, I was just walking,” Keith took a step back.

“Need a family break?” Patty asked with a laugh.

Keith paused. “I-I guess.”

“Well,” she shrugged. “We are open for a few more hours. We have a ton of holiday coloring sheets.”

Keith stared at her. “I’m seventeen.”

“So?” She smiled sweetly. “You’re never too old to color.”

Keith realized she reminded him of Mrs. Elise.

“I don’t think I’ve ever colored before.”

She smiled. “Well, now would be a great time to start.” 

Three Christmases Ago

It was a cosmic certainty that Keith would one day witness a Christmas tree fire.

His fate was tied to it, considering how often his father’s words rang in his ears. 

“Do your old man a favor. Don’t get a real tree. The fake ones are nice enough.”

It felt like supremely bad karma when his roommate, Rolo, probably pretty flammable already from the amount of cannabis he seemed to always have in his pockets, placed what looked like a painfully dry tree in the living room. To make it extra unsafe, he threw on cheap lights that looked one bad bulb away from sparking a fire. 

Keith couldn’t quite believe it. He already hated the dorms with a white-hot passion, waking up most nights soaked with sweat and expecting to see Warren or another of the older kids looming over him. 

And now he had to deal with a Christmas tree? 

He gave the thing a massive berth. Didn’t put anything near it. 

Stayed in his room and grew more bitter and paranoid and slowly started to hate the smell of pine needles.

He knew such intense hatred and fear of a tree wasn’t healthy. But it felt like a ticking time bomb. Rolo and his friends teased him, taunted him about being scared of a Christmas tree.

But they got real quiet when it did catch on fire.

A bulb broke and ignited one of the dry branches. Keith heard the panic from his room.

He threw his legs off his bed, hit the ground running, and bolted down the hall. The fire was slowly consuming the left side of the tree. Rolo and a couple other of his friends were staring at the fire, unsure of what to do. 

He barged into the kitchen, elbowing everyone out of the way, and yanked down the fire extinguisher from its notch near the oven.

He pulled the pin, aimed the nozzle, and sprayed the entire left side of the tree, from the trunk to the star.

Once the crackle of flames was a low hiss and his heart stopped racing, Keith lowered the fire extinguisher and surveyed the damage.

The fire hadn’t gotten big enough to cause any true damage, but the foam spray from the extinguisher was everything. Specifically, it soaked all of the presents under the smoking tree. The gift wrap, untouched by the fire, was sodden and ruined.

Keith scoffed, dropping the extinguisher with an air of someone who knew they were about to be blamed for something that was hardly their fault.

As everyone stared at him, the smoke alarm finally went off. 

***

He was pounding on Shiro and Adam’s door before he even registered where he was. 

The door opened to a half-asleep Shiro.

“Keith, what–”

“I hate Christmas trees,” Keith hissed through his teeth, shouldering past his brother. “Where’s your alcohol?”

“Um, you are nineteen, so–”

“Where’s Adam?” Keith demanded.

“So that sounds like Adam supplies you with alcohol.”

“You bet he does,” Keith leaned towards the hallway. “ Adam !”

Shiro looked like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or yell. Adam stumbled out of their room, glasses lopsided and a robe halfway slung over his shoulders.

“What’s up?”

Keith was already making quick work of examining their liquor cabinet.

“Are you giving alcohol to my little brother?” Shiro asked his partner.

“Of course I am,” Adam said with a yawn, trudging into the kitchen. “How else did you expect him to get through sharing a dorm with someone without killing someone?”

Shiro frowned.

“Relax,” Adam patted his shoulder. “He likes vodka crans and is such a lightweight he’s giggly after one. It’s adorable.”

“Fuck you, I heard that.”

“What happened?” Shiro sighed heavily as Adam swatted Keith away and pulled out the ingredients.

Keith glared at the counter. “I need to move out.”

“I got that. What happened?”

“I ruined all the presents Rolo and his friends were taking home.”

That caused Adam and Shiro to freeze, gaping at him with wide eyes. 

“With a fire extinguisher,” Keith added. “So it’s technically not my fault.”

“There was a fire? Or were you just in the mood to become a Christmas Dr. Seuss character?”

“The stupid dry-ass tree caught fire,” Keith took the drink Adam made for him. “It’s almost like they are ridiculous fire hazards that should be kept out of houses.”

He took a large gulp and rubbed his forehead. 

“I need a job,” he said tightly. “I need to save up to get my own place or I’m going to jail for homicide within a year.”

Shiro and Adam looked at each other.

“Well,” Shiro said slowly, a grin rising on his face. “There’s a new store that opened up right next to the Garrison. ”

“It’ll be a perfect fit,” Adam said with a grin. 

“Pidge works there,” Shiro added on. “You like Pidge.”

Keith did. He met them a couple years back. Their older brother, Matt, was buddies with Shiro. While Matt was like a golden retriever, Pidge resembled a black cat. No-nonsense, aloof, but easy to like.

Keith frowned. “Pidge works at a toy store.”

Adam and Shiro smiled at him. 

“You cannot be serious.” 

One Christmas Ago 

It was December 23rd and Keith checked his teeth in his phone’s mirror for the third time. 

He scowled at himself, not entirely thrilled with the splattering of acne over his forehead from finals week, but it would have to do. 

He shoved his phone in his back pocket and tapped his fingers on his coffee mug and tried to look like his skin wasn’t crawling from the Christmas music blaring in the coffee shop.

He had been dating James for five months, long enough to have each other’s bodies memorized, but to know very little of what was inside.

That was fine to Keith, he had spent close to fifteen years neatly pinning everything together and snapping it shut. The therapists that the Shiroganes paid for had done a decent job making him a capable adult. He knew when to advocate for himself and his feelings and respect when his body and mind told him that he was actually In A Moment and needed to Take A Break. 

Just, things got a little slippery around Christmas. A little loose.

But James was nice and handsome and funny and Keith really didn’t want to unleash a tidal wave of December trauma on him.

In an effort to appear normal, he even bought a Christmas present for him. One of his favorite books, wrapped neatly in the backseat of his car. He had it all planned. If James had a gift for him, then he would go out and get it from the car. If he didn’t, then no harm done and the present would stay hidden. 

Things already felt off when Keith had run into James and his brother Christmas shopping the other day. He had waved quickly, a mildly uncharacteristic and embarrassing thing for Keith to do, only for James to stare at him blankly for a second too long. 

Then he seemed to snap to it, hugged Keith, introduced him, and then they moved on to their own shopping. 

It felt weird .

But it was Christmas and Keith got a little weird himself around this time so he tried to ignore it. 

Thankfully, before he could spiral any further, James entered the coffee shop. He looked gorgeous in his navy coat and thick scarf, peeling off his gloves as he approached the table with a smile.

That smile was what had lured Keith in. 

He had come into Castleship with that same blinding smile, looking for a birthday gift for his niece. Keith had helped him the best he could and James asked for his number and the rest was history.

“Hi,” James said in that seductively low murmur. “How are you?”

He smiled a little more and Keith got all mushy inside and the conversation moved on from there.

They talked about normal things, how finals went, what classes they were taking next semester, what they were doing for Christmas.

“Seriously?” James asked, stirring sugar into his coffee. “You only get, like, three presents?”

Keith shrugged. “Yeah. I’m sure my foster parents would give me more if I asked but I–I don’t know. I’m weird with Christmas gifts. So they give me one and Shiro gives me one and then Pidge sneaks one into my car or something.”

James looked incredibly shocked by this. “You work at a toy store and you are weird with Christmas gifts?”

Keith shifted, growing more uncomfortable by the second. This was why he should have just kept his mouth shut. He needed to stop unloading on people, it just got awkward.

“I was looking for something for Pidge the other day,” Keith said, hastily changing subjects. “That’s when I saw you at the mall.”

“Oh,” James rested his chin on his palm, a bemused smile growing. “That. Yeah. That’s a funny story.”

Keith leaned forward with interest.

“I, well,” James chuckled. “I was kinda on acid.”

Keith paused. Blinked. Blinked again. “Oh!”

“Yeah,” James said, spinning his mug handle in careful circles. “That’s why I was a little out of it. But it was an incredible experience. There was this moment where I–”

What followed was at least a fifteen minute monologue of James explaining the truths he discovered while on acid. He talked about how he felt like he knew what to do with his life, how he could practically see his future. Keith nodded mindlessly, never one to be all that intrigued by drugs. Maybe it was from watching Shiro’s recovery, but he never wanted to be that dazed and unaware. 

At some point they moved to Keith’s car, sitting in the dark parking lot as rain dribbled down the windshield. Keith’s knees were tucked up to his chest, trying to keep his eyes on James and not involuntarily drifting to the poorly-wrapped present in the backseat.

“So listen,” James said, right when Keith was about to suggest making out. “This has been like, weird, right?”

Keith tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, us hanging out,” James said lamely, words long and stiff as he offered a fake smile. “Like, I think it happened a little fast, right?”

Keith was having a hard time following. “You mean–”

“I just, I never got to get to know you as just a guy, you know?” James licked his lips nervously. “A friend.”

Oh. Okay. Keith was being broken up with.

He sucked his lips into his mouth, fighting back a ridiculous urge to laugh. It was all just nonsense. Here he was, two days before Christmas, getting dumped all while praying for James to not look in the backseat and see the gift. How humiliating, bringing a gift only to get dumped. 

James prattled on about staying friends and getting to know each other better while Keith just silently chanted for his eyes to remain on Keith. 

But this was getting long and tedious and stopped being as funny. Keith started to pine for a drink on Shiro’s couch.

“So,” he said, to speed things up. “You saw your future and I wasn’t in it, huh?”

That expedited the process a little quickly.

***

And then there’s this idiot who started to work at Castleship. 

This absolute fucking tool.

Keith couldn’t believe his ears when all of thirty minutes after Keith’s tutelage of how to use the register, Mr. Big Blue Eyes asks him out.

“ Balmera’s looks good,” World’s Biggest Dick said with a slow smile spreading over his annoyingly cute face. “Want to check it out after I manage to not break this thing?”

Keith was thunderstruck. He couldn’t believe this kid’s audacity. And he was also still admittedly a little sore from James’ breaking up with him a little less than two months ago. What had started as a funny story settled into humiliation. 

Of course the one time Keith tried to get his shit together around Christmas, he would get dumped.

He had decided that Castleship had a bad omen regarding men, and this new employee was no different.

Keith stared hard at him. “I would rather eat glass.”

New Hire stared at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

He nodded thoughtfully, taking it with shocking grace. “Cool, can we never bring this up again?”
“Sounds great.”

***

Okay.

So Absolute Fucking Tool’s name was Lance. 

He was a biology major and one year below Keith and, quite unfortunately, kinda a cool guy. Not that Keith would tell him that, he was more than happy to continue their semi-awkward comradery during work hours.

But he worked hard, was great with customers, and could talk down an angry mom in seconds. Just one flash of that smile and the customers would be the one apologizing.

Pidge and Hunk were close with him, which pissed Keith off a little because he thought that he had dibs on Pidge. But then he realized that was probably one of those possessive urges that several therapists pointed out, and tried to ignore it. 

Even Allura and Coran liked him. 

Keith didn’t necessarily see the hype until it was May and there had to be a hundred kid birthday parties that weekend and the store was swamped.

A woman, flushed from both the heat and rage, was all up in Keith’s face, waving around a receipt and yelling at him. 

“This is ridiculous!” She sneered in an ugly, raggedy voice. “I’ll be calling your supervisors! This toy broke almost instantly, what do you mean you can’t get me a refund?”

Keith inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

He could feel himself getting angry, flighty, about to do that thing when he lost his everloving shit and typically needed Shiro to coax him out of a tree or something.

“Hi!” 

Suddenly, Lance was in front of the woman, smiling brightly at her and gently taking the receipt from her hand. “How can I help you?”

Keith’s thundering pulse began to slow. 

“Oh, yeah,” Lance winced. “This sucks, I know, but electronic devices need a warranty if you want to return them. See here? You didn’t click the option, I’m afraid.”

The woman sputtered. 

“How about this?” Lance asked. “Let’s take a look at this toy. Our assistant manager, Coran, is a whizz with a screwdriver. Maybe we can fix it up!”

Lance walked the woman away without a second thought.

Allura stepped up next to Keith.

“He might be perfect,” she said thoughtfully.

***

Imagine Keith’s rage when he started to regret turning Lance down. 

December 1st 

Lance could chill the fuck out a little.

Walking around the store like a lost puppy ever since Keith dropped the Christmas bomb on him. 

He had tried to be casual about it, make it seem more like a disinterest rather than genuine hatred. But Lance did his Lance Thing where he inserted himself into it and demanded all these answers that would only upset him more.

And Keith knew that Lance was a fierce lover of Christmas. He wasn’t entirely sure why he told him, considering it would be a recipe for disaster. 

He had thought that he would never tell him. He had a lot of feelings regarding Lance, most of them disgustingly gushy and involving his eyes and smile and arms. He had done his best to package them away, shove them back and throw away the key because there was no universe where perhaps the happiest person in the world even looked twice at him. And he certainly wouldn’t help matters showing exactly how much of an asshole he was. 

But he told him. For some fucking reason. 

Because now Lance wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone. 

Was following around asking all these questions that only made Keith feel more prickly and annoyed.

So maybe Keith was a bit of an asshole when Lance got stuck with the Christmas shift. It served him right, considering how annoying he was being. 

So maybe Keith felt like he had something to prove when Lance offered the bet. He probably still would have shrugged it off if it wasn’t for Lance sweetening the deal, offering to take the New Years shift of Keith’s hands. 

Maybe he wanted to make Lance eat his words a little. He wanted to get rid of that smug smile on his handsome face, so sure that he would make Keith like Christmas.

There was no getting Keith to like Christmas. You couldn’t like something that you wouldn’t let yourself truly experience.

Keith scoffed at the rules. No hiding, no Grinching, no falling in love.

Lance didn’t need to worry. Keith knew his place. 

December 2nd 

This was already a nightmare. 

Keith had expected for Lance to get a rude awakening to the length of Keith’s hatred. He just didn’t expect it to be this soon. 

He was freezing and embarrassed and could smell burnt pine needles and his father’s words were ringing in his ears. It was the first time Lance and him were ever alone out of work and it was all because of a stupid bet.

“I’m playing the part,” he argued. “I’m being nice and walking around with freezing toes and listening to ear splitting Christmas music but I’m not getting a tree.”

“Keith–”

“ Lance .” 

Lance took a step back and Keith hated the surprised hurt on Lance’s face. The way his big blue eyes were studying Keith, not mad, just trying to figure him out. 

And Keith didn’t want to be figured out. 

“They make needles go everywhere and are sticky and they are a terrible fire hazard,” Keith said tightly.  

“Okay,” Lance held up his hands in defeat. “Okay. No tree. You got it.”

Keith nodded simply and turned away. 

He began to walk quickly to the exit. Maybe they could forget about all of this. It was a stupid idea. He thought that he could play along enough to prove Lance wrong, but it was clear that wouldn’t happen.

Not when he was so tightly wound, so uptight, so stubborn, so damaged.

“Keith!”

Keith was shocked to see Lance hurrying to catch up with him, apparently not willing to let him disappear into the crowd. 

Keith opened his mouth, ready to tell Lance to forget about this entirely. 

“Listen, that was a flub on my part. My bad. Give me one more hour.”

Keith stared at him, not able to quite believe it. Lance considered it his fault?

He was so shocked he had to cave.

“One hour.”

***

Keith stared at the box on his living room floor. 

The fake black Christmas tree.

He had never had his own before, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.

After another moment of looking at it, he turned on his heel and marched into his bedroom. 

December 3rd 

Keith stared at the trio as they threw snowballs at each other. He dipped his chin further into his coat, taking a hesitant step back. His hand wrapped tighter around the ornament in his pocket.

He remembered the excited look on Lance’s face, the way that he practically glowed while handing it to Keith.

An instinct in Keith begged for him to refuse it, but Lance looked so excited and hopeful. Keith had taken it. 

He had tried to duck out of the ensuing snowball fight challenge earlier, but Lance had stopped him.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about being stopped. While he couldn’t deny the flutter in his stomach, this was the kind of thing he wasn’t good at. He wasn’t good in social situations, didn’t have the tiniest of ideas of how to participate in a snowball fight.

Pidge knocked snow in Lance’s mouth. Lance staggered back dramatically, grinning and laughing with his eyes shining.

Something clenched in Keith’s chest and he turned away. Wondered why he thought he could actually fit in with the others.

Soft slush so cold it burned smacked into his neck.

He paused, mouth dropping open as the snow slid down into his coat. He could hear that the others went quiet behind him. 

“Sorry,” Lance called finally. “I was aiming for Hunk.”

There were millions of things Keith felt clueless about. But getting back at Lance? It was his first language.

Keith dropped to the ground, hastily piling snow together. 

He spun around and threw the ball. Lance was turned away, looking at Hunk when it hit him. He staggered back, eyes wide. He gaped at Keith.

Then smiled like the fucking sun. 

Lance let out a wild, challenging laugh, and dove to the snow. 

Keith immediately followed, cramming snow together in his hands and throwing it as quickly as he could. Lance, it turned out, was terrible at throwing snowballs.

It only made him more endearing, him hopelessly chucking snow Keith’s way, hollering for his friends to help him as Keith nailed him over and over.

Keith realized he was grinning, panting excitedly as he ran out of breath. He didn’t know the last time he had done something so childish, so fun.

His chest felt lighter every time Lance smiled at him. 

December 4th 

Keith had been up so late studying that he completely forgot that Shiro was bringing him coffee the next morning.

He was just barely pulling himself back to consciousness, groaning in his pillow, when he heard the sound of Shiro using his key to get inside Keith’s apartment, step inside, stomp the snow off his boots, and then–

“No fucking way.”

Keith’s eyes shot open.

He vaulted out of bed, only in boxers, stumbling out to where Shiro was standing with a coffee carrier and an open mouth, staring at the fake tree box on the floor.

Keith hadn’t moved it from where he first put it in the living room. 

“Listen–”

“You got a tree?” Shiro asked excitedly. “Oh my god, this is fantastic. I need to call Adam, he will freak out, we need to celebrate–”

“Lance got me a tree,” Keith said, plucking a coffee from the carrier Shiro held. “It’s this, uh, thing we are doing.”

Shiro looked even more delighted. “A thing? With the guy that you definitely don’t have a crush on?”

Keith scowled. “Fuck off, I don’t.”

“Sorry, Keith!” His brother sang cheerfully, walking over to the couch. “No gay man talks that much about the eye color of someone they dislike.”

He dropped onto the couch with a grin and patted the cushions next to him. “Tell me all about it.”

Keith grumbled, snagging a hoodie he left on the couch and tugging it on.

“It’s nothing, he just thinks he can get me to like Christmas. We made a bet, if he gets me to admit it, then I’ll take his shift on Christmas.”

Shiro nodded slowly. “And what will you be doing for this bet?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “A whole bunch of annoying Christmas things, I guess.”

Shiro nodded some more. “Probably, like, pretty romantic stuff, huh?”

Keith glared at him. “No.”

Shiro snorted. “Christmas is the most romantic holiday of the year, Keith.”

“What? No, it’s not!”

“Uh, yes it is.”

“You’re making something out of nothing.”

Shiro laughed, jerking his chin towards the tree. 

“That’s not nothing.”

***

And then Lance had to go and be all respectful of Keith’s boundaries.

And get him what was maybe the most delicious drink Keith had ever had.

And Lance’s eyes looked really, really blue when there was white snow everywhere. 

So. Keith may have fucked himself with this one. 

December 5th 

Keith trudged through finals. Rather than going out and partying, he instead collapsed in bed by eight PM and slept until his phone was ringing. 

He fumbled for it in his blankets, pressing it against his cheek.

“Hello?” He mumbled.

“Keith?”

Keith sat up, suddenly much more awake. “Lance?”

“Oh thank god, I was worried you would be under someone or over a toilet after finals. Listen, I need help.”

Keith wondered if there was any world where he would have said no to him.

***

“So then my classmate says that my program would only work if I was looking to take over the world,” Pidge said. “And I told her, great, so it works!”

Pidge burst out laughing and Keith chuckled, smiling down at the bar.

The pub was crowded, blasting Christmas music, and smelled like a bunch of artificial holiday scents all crammed into one. Before, Keith would have made an excuse to leave as soon as possible.

But now, Keith found himself happy to stay.

“So,” Pidge smiled at him. “You and Lance, huh?”

Keith’s entertained smile fell.

“Don’t look so freaked out,” Pidge punched his arm lightly. “I’ve known you liked him ever since he asked you out.”

“What? I hated him.”

“No, you didn’t,” Pidge said, a glint in their eyes. “You were a little impressed, don’t even lie. Besides, you had that hopeless look on your face when he first walked in, just like you did with James.”

“Gross.”

“Agreed,” Pidge said. “So don’t kiss in front of me.”

Keith let out a dry laugh. “You’re getting a little ahead of yourself there, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Pidge’s eyes lingered on something behind Keith’s shoulder. “But he’ll get there.”

Keith turned. Lance was sitting with Hunk, his chin rested on his palm as he listened attentively to whatever Hunk was saying. He always did that. 

Lance always looked at you as if you hung the moon. 

“See, there’s that look again,” Pidge huffed. “Hopeless.”

December 6th 

For the first part of the day, Keith was worried he had something in his teeth. 

That seemed like the only reasonable explanation for why Lance suddenly refused to look at him. 

Because the only other explanation was because Lance met Shiro, saw he was an amputee, and then got weird.

And that couldn’t happen.

That couldn’t happen because Keith would probably hate him forever.

He kept on trying to make eye contact with Lance all shift, but he was persistent in not looking at Keith. And then, at some point, as their shift transitioned to cooking in Shay’s kitchen, Lance started to get mad at him. 

Keith was never known for having the best hold on his temper and found himself herding Lance out into the alleyway.

He could barely hear the answers he demanded, the blood rushing in his ears, until–

Lance bit down on the corner of his lip. “Look, we can just drop the bet.”

Keith looked up at him, his anger sliding into shock. “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, let’s just forget it,” Lance said. “Ignore me being a giant asshole, I mean, Shiro looks incredibly capable, I’m pretty sure he could crush me with one hand, but I just– I don’t know man, you would be much more helpful to him than me on Christmas.”

Keith stared at him. “ That’s what this is about?”

He couldn’t believe it. Lance was being weird because he thought that he had taken Shiro’s aid from him on Christmas?

“While Shiro is capable,” Keith shrugged easily, “sure, he needs help with some things. But his husband, Adam, is almost always there. And will definitely help on Christmas. And Pidge’s brother is going to be there too. I would be helpful on Christmas, but I’m not necessary.”

Lance was worrying his lip, eyes big, not convinced.

So Keith did something uncomfortable.

He fixed Lance with a hard stare. “I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”

Keith felt the words rush out in a heavy roll of nerves. He didn’t like saying it, didn’t like acknowledging that there was the tiniest part of him that liked it. 

But Lance’s resulting grin was worth it. 

***

“All I ever do is think about it.”

Keith could safely say that he had never in his life planned to spill open like that to someone. But Lance held firm, stayed steady. 

***

“Okay, so what are we going to do about it?”

***

Keith sat, perched on the armrest of his couch, staring at the tree box.

It hadn’t moved since he first put it there.

Clutching his mug of tea, Keith slowly rose. He walked in a slow circle around the box, tapping his fingers against the mug.

Poked it a couple times with his sock. Tried to get over the ridiculous anxiety he felt looking at it. 

I don’t do things I don’t want to do. 

“Fuck it,” he said decisively, leaning down and ripping the box open. 

December 7th

“So,” Adam said airily. “Tell me about the boy.”

Keith scowled, handing him another stack of books. “There is no boy.”

“That’s not what my boy is saying.”

“Well, Shiro is a filthy liar.”

“Oh, so you’re not spending your December doing a bunch of Christmas activities that you had sworn off for life with a boy that just happens to be cute?”

“How do you know he’s cute?”

“You admit it? He’s cute?”

Keith ground his teeth together.

“Tell me about the boy.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Keith said as he broke down a box. “Lance is a friend that is hopelessly attractive, I’m screwed and planning a life in a monastery probably.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Adam, put that book on the “Staff Picks” shelf and I will disown,” Keith said as Adam tauntingly dangled A Farewell to Arms near the stack. “I fell asleep while reading it like three times.”

“That’s because you are the most chaotic reader I know,” Adam said patiently. “And you don’t trust the classics.”

“Because why would I trust someone from two-hundred years ago to know how to keep me entertained?”

Before Adam could respond, a figure materialized in the corner. 

“Lance?” 

Lance offered a shy smile. He looked adorable, nervous and tucked in the corner. 

“This is Lance?” Adam’s grin was downright devious.

“You guys have got to stop doing that.”

“What?” Now Adam looked eager. “I can’t be excited to meet your friends?”

“I’m not twelve,” Keith grumbled before redirecting his attention to Lance. “What’s up?”

Lance now realized that Keith looked in fact very busy. “Sorry, I just wanted to see if you were free.”

Keith prayed that Adam didn’t see the blush rise up his cheeks. 

***

Keith laid awake that night. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he said Lance’s excited smile, eyes flashing as he tugged out the wooden ornaments. The thrill that he was about to actually do something for the better. The wild grin he had while strutting along the karaoke stage.

How unbearingly hot he was while singing a stupid Christmas song. 

I don’t do things I don’t want to do. 

“Fuck it.”

He threw off his blankets, marching down the cold floor to where the black Christmas tree was laying half assembled on the floor. 

He knelt and began fluffing it with a groan of disgust. 

December 8th 

Keith’s therapist often told him to do uncomfortable things. 

He wondered if this was what he had in mind.

He already considered himself super brave for showing up to Lance’s apartment unannounced. He couldn't help it, he was too excited to start preparing the ornaments. Patty was still at the Altea Community Center and cried when he brought the idea to her.

Now, he had a list of kids that could have a completely changed Christmas.

So he did something uncomfortable. Go him.

And he didn’t turn around the second he saw a crowd lingering around two adult men hastily making snowmen and recognized them as his friends.

And he deserved a fucking award for not splitting the second Lance tossed his keys to Keith to go to his room and find something for the snowman.

Keith stood in Lance’s room, unsure of what to do.

It was relatively clean aside from an unnamed bed, a couple of Converse on the floor, a hamper in the corner overflowing a little. The walls were covered in posters from a bunch of TV shows and bands Keith didn’t recognize. But rather than being tacked on, they were neatly framed and hung. It looked good. 

Keith was studying the titles on Lance’s bookshelf when he noticed Pidge leaning against the doorframe, watching him.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Hi Pidge. I’ve been sent up here to find things for a snowman and I’m currently stalling so I don’t have to dig through Lance’s things.”

Pidge let out a bark of laughter. “Why are you stalling? I would have thought your gay ass would have leapt at the opportunity to snoop.”

Keith flushed. “No, I wouldn’t, I–”

“News flash, Kogane,” Pidge stepped back into the hallway. “Lance knows you’re going to snoop. Anyone would. It just means he doesn’t care if you do.”

Keith felt enlightened. He looked down at the keys, remembering that Lance had told him to not look in the nightstand. Was the rest of the room really allowed?
He turned in a slow circle, before taking two large steps to the closet. 

He opened it, sliding his hands along the button-downs and jeans, before rising on his toes and tugging at one of the boxes on the top of the shelf.

He tugged it open and let out a laugh at the contents.

Bingo. 

***

I think I’m finding my place.

Keith marched out of bed, grabbed the plastic tree by the scruff of its fluffed neck, and dragged it into his room. 

He shoved it into the corner and plugged it in. The stupid warm lights made his chest feel a little lighter.

Grumbling under his breath, he turned to his dresser and opened up his sock drawer.

Carefully, he pulled out the three ornaments and hung them on the tree. The action felt foreign, clumsy, but he made do.

He stepped back, eyeing the black tree tucked in the corner of his bedroom. And finding that he may actually like it. 

December 9th 

Keith knew he had made numerous mistakes in his life.

Getting on a sheet of ice surrounded by little kids that were skating circles around him was immeasurably high on the list. 

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” he hissed through clenched teeth. 

Lance laughed joyously, clearly having the time of his life. 

Keith’s stomach was rolling in circles, both from struggling to not fall on his face and from Lance’s flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes. 

He alternated between glaring at Lance and watching his own feet as if they betrayed him. Finally Lance took pity on him, leading him over to the edge and sitting him down on a bench. 

“You need to tie them tight,” Lance yanked off a glove with his teeth.

Keith felt a choked gasp in the back of his throat, staring helplessly at Lance’s fingers as he tugged the laces on Keith’s skates.

There was simply nothing to stop Keith from unabashedly daydreaming as Lance tied his skates. It felt startlingly intimate and Keith hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

Keith could barely follow Lance's instructions. He was sure that Lance was a good teacher, but he was too focused on not looking lovestruck while Lance gently guided him through the perfect ice skating form. 

“Whoops!” 

Lance laughed as Keith grabbed at his arms, teeth gritted as his feet scrambled under him. Lance was warm, steady under Keith. 

“Okay, hold on.”

“You are finding this way too funny.” 

“How could I not?” Lance said lightly. “Before this, I thought you were perfect.”

Keith felt his body seize. It was such an insane thing for Lance of all people to say. Because Keith was so far from perfect. He felt perpetually ruined, while Lance seemed as close to perfection as a human could get.

Lance was wrapping his hands around Keith’s forearms. 

“Hold on.”

As if Keith could let go. 

***

And then, because the universe hated his guts, Keith met the family. 

December 10th

Keith immediately liked Rachel and Sophie, but he just felt something resonate deep inside him with Cam.

Cam looked a whole lot like Lance. The same eyebrows and sharp nose. Though while Lance's blue eyes sparkled with mischief and ease, Cam’s brown eyes were worried and shy. Keith could relate.

He found himself constantly glancing at Cam as they waited in the line for Santa, wondering whether or not he was having a good time or freaking himself out like Keith used to. 

But Keith had grown up from a Cam and turned into maybe a bit of a dick. 

“Do you think Santa is on a smoke break?”

Lance shot him a withering look over Cam’s shoulder, elbowing him. 

Keith felt a thrilling ripple of goosebumps. “This is really fun, really Christmassy.”

“You aren’t cute when you’re smug.”

Keith blinked and smiled at that because that was a little interesting. “So, there are times when I am cute?”

Lance looked speechless, which was a rare but funny look on him.

Keith turned back to face the front of the line, smiling. 

But then Sophie started to get a little squirrelly. And Lance was quick to follow, his excited smile falling slightly as he scanned the line.

And Keith may be a Scrooge-esque asshole, but he had a couple soft spots. They were children and Lance.

“You guys go into the Castleship,” Keith found himself saying. “I’ll wait in line.”

Lance stared at him.  “But you hate this stuff.”

Keith found himself bristling a little. Sure, he hated it, but he also had a heart.

They bickered under the elf appeared.

“That’s so sweet that your parents brought you to see Santa!”

Keith wanted to crawl into a hole. 

***

“You know, we keep doing this.”

Keith was so tired from babysitting he could feel his eyes drooping. “Doing what?”

“Giving the other an out to leave,” Lance said softly. “And not taking it.”

Keith felt his heartbeat pick up. He turned to see Lance already watching him with those big blue eyes. 

“We do, don’t we?” Keith murmured.

They were close. Closer than Keith thought they had ever been. He could see the splash of freckles across Lance’s nose. The indent of his smile lines. The open, sprawling ocean in his eyes. There was something so welcoming in Lance’s face. Something that made Keith want to just tuck himself inside and tell him everything. 

Tell him all the things he was biting back, the ugly little secrets of so many bad Christmases to make Lance understand that by the end of this, it wouldn’t be because of him. He did this knowing that Lance could do nothing to fix him, but maybe he wanted to feel like he could.

But most importantly, Keith wanted more than anything to kiss him. 

He was desperate, starving for it. It would probably drive him crazy, how badly he wanted to kiss Lance McClain. 

Lance studied him and Keith felt his own guard begin to slip away, his eyebrows relaxed and lips parting and he was so close, he could do it, just once, just once and they could forget it– 

“Hello? I’m looking for some double trouble!”

***

Keith stared at the black Christmas tree in his bedroom and wondered when he would get a grip. 

December 11th 

“You’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”

Keith had definitely never been as embarrassed as he felt with Lance gaping up at him, his handsome face clouded with shock. 

Keith bit down hard on his tongue, trying to ignore Lance’s sisters gaping at him, trying to not feel like he had failed somehow. 

Veronica preparing the kiddie pools for them to ride down the hill made him even more nervous. For a moment, he debated breaking Lance’s second rule and just leaving. 

But then Lance got that glint in his eyes. “Get in the pool.” 

Keith felt like he could feel adrenaline pooling in his veins, digging his fingers into the sides of the pool as Lance settled in behind him. 

It was hard enough to move on from last night, he nearly bit his tongue feeling Lance’s thigh knock against his waist.

He couldn’t force himself to relax until Lance really got the pool going.

And then it got so fun. 

So fun that Keith forgot himself for a second. The rush of cold wind batting against your face, the vibrating of the plastic pool against the snow, the sound of Lance cheering as they rode down the hill. Keith was pretty sure that was what being a child was supposed to feel like.

And he got a taste and had a feeling he was going to be addicted. 

He would have done any trick Lance thought of, the two of them slipping and sliding along the hill. Veronica and Rachel constantly passed them with the twins, but Keith barely noticed. He was too focused on the rush, the slide, the warmth of Lance’s body. 

And then they hit that turn and went flying.

Keith had a split second to see Lance hit the snow with a wheeze and realize his body was headed directly towards him. 

He fell on top of Lance, both of them grunting. It was so ridiculous that Keith started to laugh. Laughing harder than he had in months. 

“Holy shit ,” Keith pushed himself to his elbows. “Are you alright?”

Lance was laughing too. “I’m fine. Told you it would be fun.”

“And I told you we were going to eat shit.”

“Two things can be right at the same time.”

Keith grinned down at him before realizing that he was on top of Lance. 

He could feel the strength in Lance’s arms and torso, the gentle way his fingers were wrapped around Keith’s upper arms. Lance’s teeth were blindingly white from the light reflecting off the snow and Keith felt that hunger take over again.

He imagined what would happen if he just closed the distance.

Just dropped his head and kissed him. 

A pool skidded a stop next to them. 

“You guys alright?” Veronica called.

Hardly. 

December 12th 

Keith didn’t know what he was thinking.

He blamed Elf Night. 

God. Anything but Elf Night.

Keith had been certain that he was going to get out of it. Allura was a hardass about inventory and he had never been happier to have been scheduled for it. But then Lance skipped over to him at the end of their shift, grinning like it was his birthday, and Keith’s heart sank. 

He begrudgingly agreed to go, on account of Lance liquoring him up.

He could feel how tense he was, hearing echoes of Caroline’s sobbing as they drove there. But Lance was just so happy and Keith couldn’t bring himself to ruin it.

So Keith told himself to deal with it.

When he stepped out, the rush of the fanfare took him off guard. He could only look up and up and up at the lights and stalls and endless people and think so, this was what he had missed out on. 

And eventually, he started to have fun. Started to feel a little loose, full and content from the food and the drinks. 

He let himself slip in ways that he would normally never allow. He started telling Lance things he swore he would never tell him, stories that only led to pity. But Lance didn’t pity him, only watching him with encouraging eyes.

Thank you for sharing .

Keith wasn’t sure what about that phrase irked him, but it drove him a little crazy. He supposed it was because he didn’t like being thanked for something he considered a burden. And considering it to not be a burden was too mind-boggling for Keith to even step into. 

Keith just smiled and drank his Glogg and tried to not openly ogle Lance’s sharp jawline. 

And then there were the puppies.

The one who could only look up and up and up.

And Keith felt himself open a little more. 

December 13th 

Shiro was a dead man for doxxing Keith. Keith opened the door to Lance’s cheerful face and thought he was still dreaming. 

Keith couldn’t believe his luck that he thought to put his Christmas tree in his bedroom. 

He couldn’t help a sigh of relief as Lance breezed into his living room, seemingly not noticing any appearance or lack of decoration. 

Keith had begun to feel strangely protective of the tree and its four ornaments. He had bought some gold tinsel and hung it on the branches, but he had a feeling he might take it off. Too many things on the tree would cause him to smell burnt pine needles again. The Christmas tree felt a little sad and dreary but it was his. It was where he funneled the little bit of Christmas spirit that brewed in the corner of his heart. 

It felt private.

So Keith kept his bedroom door shut as Lance made himself at home.

Keith watched him as he set up all the supplies. 

He looked good in Keith’s apartment. All soft and warm in his sweatshirt under the morning beams from the windows.

Keith could imagine it. The two of them spending mornings like this, quietly orbiting each other with gentle smiles and gentler touches until they were more awake. 

The fantasy made Keith’s heart clench. His teeth rattled from how badly he wanted it. 

He channeled his frustration into the best gingerbread murder house the world had ever seen. 

December 14th 

Keith drove through the neighborhood three times before summoning the nerve to park in front of Lance’s family home. 

His chest was so tight he felt like he could hardly breathe. This felt like something he was doomed to mess up. He would do something or say something that was wrong, he wasn’t house-trained, he didn’t know how to act around big families.

He chewed on the inside of his lip as he walked up the steps towards the house, nervously smoothing his sweaty hands over his sweater. He had even asked Shiro’s help on what to wear, which was something he would probably never live down. 

His knuckles rapped on the door and he immediately felt his stomach flip. 

He couldn’t do this. This would just prove to Lance that he wasn’t meant for this, wasn’t the right fit for a big family in a big house that cooked together and spent holidays crafting new traditions.

He took a step back from the door, then another, was about to tuck tail and run, and then the door opened.

And Keith was so flabbergasted he forgot to be nervous. 

“What is that?”

Lance’s head dropped in resignation. “Rachel is a savage beast and I owed her a favor.”

Lane was wearing an apron with glitter text that read kiss the Christmas cook. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a felt mistletoe branch was sewn over his stomach.

Keith let out a horrified laugh. “I actually can’t believe that.”

“I don’t recommend having sisters,” Lance said, an endearing blush rising to his feets as he waved Keith inside. “Come on in.”

Keith followed and immediately felt like he stepped into a family movie.

Christmas music rippled down the hall, intertwined with the sound of talking and children laughing. Keith toed off his shoes as Lance walked down the hall, surrounded by the sprawl of photos hung on the rich toned walls. There was a pile of shoes by the door, some of them used to prop up umbrellas. A laundry basket sat on the edge of the stairs. The entire house smelled like cookies. Keith couldn’t quite believe that houses like this existed. 

They walked into the kitchen and were greeted with chaos. It looked like a flour bomb had exploded in the kitchen. Rachel and Veronica were both mixing intently. Lance leveled a glare their way that Keith followed curiously. 

As the three of them dissolved into bickering, Keith felt tiny arms wrap around his legs. He looked down to see Sophie beaming down at him, Cam shyly following her. 

“Uh, hi guys.”

“You must be Keith.”

Keith looked up as a small, pretty woman walked into the room. Immediately, Keith knew this was Lance’s mom. They looked shockingly similar, the same eyes and smile lines. There was an elegance to her, something delicate as she folded her hands together and grinned so similarly to her son.

“That’s me,” Keith felt like bats were swooping in his stomach. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. McClain.”

“Call me Ana,” she said with a dismissive wave. “And we are happy to have you.”

And Keith actually believed her. 

December 15th

Something was wrong with Lance.

Keith frowned, peeking around customers and displays whenever he could. He looked tired and out of it, eyes dazed until a customer asked him something.

It didn’t help that the store was packed with customers. Keith tried to focus on his work, but his eyes kept drifting to Lance. 

And then he saw the customer marching towards him. Watched as she began to yell at him. But there was no signature smile, no magic words that Lance normally used to talk customers down. 

Instead, he looked angry.

It looked foreign on Lance, a mad blush rising up his neck. His blue eyes were searing and Keith panicked.

He practically tripped himself running over, sliding in between Lance and the customer. 

As he handled the situation, he felt a rush of exhilaration. He had finally done it. He had repaid Lance for all the times that he had saved Keith. 

But judging by the hunched curve to Lance’s shoulders in the storage room, he didn’t agree.

Keith hated seeing Lance upset. He honestly didn’t like seeing that look on anyone . It made him feel like he did something wrong and was going to get in trouble. It was stupid and juvenile but Keith could feel himself starting to get worked up as Lance snapped at him. This all felt wrong. This was supposed to feel different, they were supposed to be different. Or was this month truly nothing but a bet? 

Finally, Lance went to march past him and Keith grabbed his hand. 

Lance’s hand was warm and a little sweaty. It made him a little more human. Lance froze, eyes widening as he stared at the door. 

“Don’t do that,” Keith whispered, voice wobbling. “Don’t brush me off.”

***

Later that night, Keith flung himself out of Rachel’s house, clapping his hands over his mouth.

Holy shit, he had actually nearly kissed Lance.

His heart was jackhammering in his throat as he walked towards his car, hands winding his hair. 

What the fuck did he just do? Not to mention then freaking out and fleeing because Sophie’s Christmas list just sounded so much like his and Caroline’s that he felt like he would start crying. 

Keith let out a low breath that steamed in the air.

But.

Lance had leaned in too. 

December 16th 

Shiro listened quietly, nodding as Keith paced.

After spending most of the car drive looking for Christmas lights vomiting out his dark secrets, Keith went straight to Shiro’s house. 

He was beginning to panic now, this was getting too big for him, he could feel it growing in his chest and knew that it would shatter if he wasn’t careful. 

“What am I going to do?” Keith asked wildly. “Why can I not shut up and just chill out around him? I’m going to freak him out and scare him away forever.”

“Lance doesn’t seem like he scares easily,” Shiro mused.

“Everyone thinks they don’t scare easily,” Keith snapped. “But they do. They always do.”

Shiro studied him for a moment. 

“Have you considered that you wanted this?” Shiro asked.

Keith wanted to throttle him. Of course he wanted this. He wanted Lance harder than he thought possible. It was driving him crazy, laying at night and staring at the Christmas tree and wondering what Lance tasted like. 

“Have you been listening? I know I want Lance–”

“No,” Shiro shook his head. “Not Lance. This. This whole bet.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. 

“You wanted to learn what he loved about Christmas,” Shiro said gently. “Don’t you think maybe you wanted him to change your mind?” 

December 17th 

Keith was drunk.

It was Veronica’s fault. She probably saw the dopey look in his eyes as he tried to subtly check out her brother and decided to give the flask to him as revenge.

The two of them leaned against each other, giggling as Lance batted off Lily’s incessant questions for the eleventh time that night.

“Poor Lance,” Frankie said, ever the kind soul.

“Poor Lance?” Keith asked. “He gets to listen to how hot I am all night.”

Veronica broke down into cackles and even Frankie smiled at that.

Keith snickered into the lip of the flask. Lance’s ears had gotten red ever since Lily and Catie cornered him, and it had yet to abate. 

A small part of Keith felt vindicated. He had a suspicion that caroling was miserable and everyone was just lying to themselves. So watching Lance and his family try to give a convincing enough performance at each house.

But eventually Keith took pity on him. Lance looked cold and annoyed and Keith caved.

So he found a way to separate them and shoved Lance’s hands in his pocket. Lance’s sweater was cold against his own but he felt Lance’s groan of relief as he wrapped his fingers around Keith’s pocket warmers.

Keith couldn’t even tell if he was blushing, already so warm and giggly from the flask. 

There was a piece of him somewhere that was painfully aware that this was the closest the two of them had ever been and that same part screamed inwardly as he tipped the flask towards Lance’s mouth.

But another part of him thought that Lance was a little sexy when he was annoyed and revved his heartbeat up to an extravagant speed.

“Well,” Keith asked, resisting the urge to run his fingers along the smile lines on Lance’s face. “How can we make it fun?”

December 18th 

Keith woke up from Lance’s phone buzzing.

He laid there for a moment, disoriented and confused, trying to make sense of where he was. He was too tired and drifting too slowly from his dreams to open his eyes. He was more comfortable than he thought he had ever been, several different soft blankets tangled around his legs or under his back. 

His arms were stretched over his head and his legs– oh holy fuck his legs.

Keith’s face spasmed, waking up as he inhaled sharply and realized that his feet were in Lance’s lap. He could feel a warm hand resting on his ankle and that was so fucking impossible to believe he thought he was dreaming.

Lance’s hand on his ankle meant that there was some level of consciousness from both of them as Keith stretched out. Lance had made room for him. 

Keith felt heat rising up his face as Lance’s phone continued to buzz.

What was he supposed to do? Should he sit up? Move? Wake Lance up? 

While he quietly panicked, still too groggy to peel his eyes open and make sense of this with his own eyes, Lance shifted. 

Keith froze, heart leaping to his mouth.

He heard Lance jerk awake, letting out a soft hum as the couch creaked. Then Lance was still again. Keith could feel eyes on him and panicked. He tried to feign sleep the best he could. After a moment, he could hear the sound of Lance picking up his phone and tapping on it. 

The hand on his ankle absentmindedly squeezed. 

Keith waited, holding his breath. What was Lance going to do? Wake Keith up? Fall back asleep? 

Suddenly, the hand on his ankle tightened and his legs were being slowly lifted. 

Keith had a brief moment of panic over how heavy his legs were supposed to be as Lance slipped out from under them. 

Certain his face was about to crack, Keith shifted, rolling onto his side and letting his hair slide over his face. His heart rate lessened as he heard Lance quietly take the popcorn bowl to the kitchen, the soft rustling of plastic wrappers being placed in the trash can. 

And then he heard the sound of Lance walking back to him.

Keith didn’t even have time to devise a new plan before the blanket was being draped over his shoulders. Then, so lightly it tickled Keith’s nose, Lance brushed the hair off his face.

Keith could feel Lance hesitating there for a moment, as if deciding something.

Then he slowly stepped back and Keith heard the door quietly open and close.

His eyes opened.

He sat up and looked at the door. 

Because what was that? 

December 19th 

Keith carefully hung the salt dough ornaments on his tree, sliding his thumb over the hard edges. 

His tree was getting a little fuller now. 

But he wasn’t going to freak out. 

No. He refused to. 

December 20th 

Keith actually couldn’t even think about seeing James. Had elected to delete the memory of Lance’s cool smirk, the feeling of his body pressed against his. The hard lines of Lance’s hips and waist and arms and how he looked so confident and sure of himself in front of James.

But confirming that Lance looked that good wrapped around Keith would lead to some dangerous conclusions on Keith’s part so it was probably better for everyone if he just forgot it. 

December 21st 

And then he did the stupidest thing he could and kissed him. 

And Lance tasted like the Christmas he had been trying so hard not to miss for seventeen years. 

December 22nd, 12:01 AM

“Oh my god,” Keith whispered fiercely to himself. “Oh my god .”

He clenched and unclenched his fists. Swallowed the panic bubbling his throat because what the fuck did he do?

He could hear the sound of Shiro and Adam saying their goodbyes. Keith was walking determinedly to his car, cold fingers fumbling with his keys. 

He could still taste the wine Lance had drank, could feel how soft his lips were. He didn’t know why he did it, why he didn’t realize it was a supremely bad idea.

He had launched himself into cleaning duty right after, hefting out the trash quickly enough to avoid Lance altogether.

Which was shitty of him. After everything Lance had done for him, ignoring him was downright cruel. But that thing in Keith’s chest was beginning to break open.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Lance wasn’t supposed to unwrap him like this. He wasn’t supposed to know how to calm Keith down and pull him out of situations and show him all these things he has not experienced before. He wasn’t supposed to thank Keith for sharing or listen attentively with those big blue eyes and smile at Keith like he was important. He wasn’t supposed to see the way Keith’s heart burst seeing the puppy and figure out how to make it happen. He wasn’t supposed to do any of it.

Keith yanked open his car door and slipped inside.

He stared out the windshield, horror crashing in as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

He had done it.

He had broken the bet’s last rule.