Work Text:
Sunday morning.
The birds were chirping. Sun was shining. The start of a beautiful normal summer day.
Lance sluggishly opens his eyes and stretches his long limbs out. Yesterday was amazing. He was suddenly saddled with babysitting duty for his favorite niece and nephew. (“But we’re your only niece and nephew, Uncle Lance!”) While he loves spending time with them, Shiro was supposed to take him out on a date.
Babysitting while on a date with your boyfriend of barely two months isn’t exactly what most people consider to be a fun time. So to his surprise, instead of taking a raincheck, Shiro showed up at his door with four aquarium tickets to a special family event and reservation at the new pizza place down the street.
If Lance wasn’t smitten before, he was full-on Jane-Austen-heroine swooning now. (If this wasn’t a family-friendly situation, he would have happily dropped trou and let Shiro have his way with him.)
After the event, Shiro ended up spending the night with him. (Sleeping. Nothing else happened. Get your mind out of the gutter.)
Speaking of Shiro, there’s a noticeably cold spot in his bed. Where could he have gone? Lance starts his slow transition from half-asleep zombie to semi-functioning adult by heading to the bathroom. Today should be good. The weather looks nice. He has plans with family that night. And there’s the subtle perfume of wonderful burni- oh my god. Someone set something on fire.
As he rushes to the kitchen, he hears halted curses and the clanging of kitchen utensils harmonized with sounds of childlike giggles. As he makes that sharp turn into the kitchen, he’s greeted by something he wasn’t expecting. (But wasn’t surprised to see.)
Shiro's wearing a tiny frilly princess apron definitely too small for him. His once black and white hair is now a healthy, powdery shade of white. In his right hand, he holds a smoking, once-silver pan. (He's gonna make buy him another.) His niece and nephew are sitting at the counter, hands dipped in batter and flour. They've not only managed to get it all over themselves, but also Shiro, the floor, walls, and ceiling. He's also pretty sure his cat Maple wasn't white when he adopted her. (He definitely had brought home a brown cat.)
Shiro might be good at being laying the law with his employees, but two seven-year-olds don’t exactly subscribe to the same logic as office workers.
"Uncle Lance! Happy birthday! We made you birthday pancakes!" Sylvio and Nadia scream at the top of their little lungs. Jazz hands go flying and as does a whole bunch of flour.
"Surprise?" Shiro says with a squeaky voice while presenting a stack of pancakes charred to a new plane of existence. The sheepish smile on his face contrasted with the beaming faces of the children (and one dirty but bemused cat) paints a picture that Lance wants to be forever engrained in his heart.
It’s more radiant than a sunset over the ocean.
Lance leans over and gives Shiro a light kiss before taking a huge bite of the charred pancakes.
“These could have been worse? I have certainly tasted worse,” Lance chewed thoughtfully.
Shiro’s eyebrows raise at Lance’s attempt to compliment the pile of pancake corpses. Before he could refute any claims, Nadia happily breaks the sweet moment between the couple.
“Uncle Lance! Look at Maple!” Maple, purring at the attention of the two young McClains, has been plopped on top of another stack of murdered pancakes. Sylvio doubles over with a furious fit of giggles.
“Because her name is Maple! Like maple syrup!”
As Shiro laughs wholeheartedly at the sight, the birthday boy knows he caught himself a good one. He has no plans of ever releasing Shiro from his thrall.
Lance knows that this birthday is just the prologue to some of the best years of his life.
(But before that can happen, Shiro is going to do some dish-washing.)