1. Yours Truly

Pidge glared at the letter in her hands, as if willing it to spontaneously combust from the heat of her eyes alone. Lance wearily watched her from the other side of the table they'd commandeered for lunch, unsure if he should ask her what was wrong, or just wait until she told him. One would lead to her yelling at him and the other... would probably also lead to her yelling at him.

He slowly leaned back to sneakily take a look around, praying Hunk would show up with their food soon and save him from death by tiny, angry friend.

Lance would really like to live, please and thank you.

He fought not to smile and wave his arms when he spotted his boyfriend making his way towards them, carrying two trays of food. Any sudden movement could be the thing that made Pidge snap. Unless, of course, you were Hunk, who was the only person in the universe who was immune to her fury. (Probably because it was impossible to be mean to him without feeling like a horrible human being immediately afterward.)

Hunk slowed down as he approached and when he reached them, he gently put down one tray and then the other before sitting down next to Lance. "Is Pidge okay?" he quietly asked.

Lance shrugged. "I haven't asked yet," he whispered back.

"I can hear you," Pidge grumbled, tossing the letter down on the table for her friends to see.

Hunk peered at it closely. "Is that..."

"A love letter?" Lance finished, looking to Pidge in concern. All at once, her anger made sense to him.

While he hadn't met her until their final year of high school and had never seen first hand the sort of torment her classmates put her through, he'd heard stories of the young girl genius who didn't quite fit in and the "pranks" her peers had played on her.

"You can read it. I don't care," Pidge muttered, reaching for the food Hunk brought for her. "It's just another stupid joke. Someone left it on the windshield of my car."

Lance carefully picked up the letter, scanning over it quickly. It seemed like a pretty standard love note. Maybe not as flowery as some of the ones he'd exchanged with Hunk, but it was sweet. The end was simply signed:

Yours Truly,

K

"Aww, that's cute!" Hunk said, leaning over to read along with Lance. "You've got a secret admirer, Pidge!"

"It's not cute," Pidge snapped, jerking the letter out of Lance's hand. "Some jackass found out what car I drive and wrote this stupid letter, just to mess with me on Valentines Day. It's nothing more than a joke."

Hunk watched, stricken, as she crumbled up the paper and stuffed it deep into her bag, where it was likely to be fully destroyed later. "Pidge..."

She refused to say anything more on the subject, focusing on her food instead. Lance picked up on her less-than-subtle cue and changed the topic to classes, nudging Hunk into going along with it. He'd explain what he knew later.

Writing that letter had been one of the most nerve-wracking things he'd ever done. He'd spent weeks agonizing over the exact wording and then discovered he had a bigger dilemma: how to give her the letter.

He could have asked someone to deliver it to her or sent it through the mail, but that felt... wrong. And he didn't really want anyone else involved. The very thought of personally handing it to her made him want to call the whole thing off, as it made his heart race in a way that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable to him.

In the end, the best way Keith could think of was to tuck it under a windshield wiper on her car, where she would be sure to see it.

He knew it was cowardly.

He knew it could go utterly, horribly not in his favor.

But it felt... safe.

Confessing to her in person would mean that she would know how he felt about her. It could ruin their friendship. The letter gave him a safety net. If she rejected it, she wasn't rejecting him. He could live with only being friends.

And if she accepted...

Hope fluttered to life in his chest.