[AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fan fiction was intended to sit somewhere between the events of seasons 4 and 5. Certain events in season 5 somewhat invalidate it in the Core Reality of Legendary Defender, namely Pidge finding her Father. Whilst I prefer that my fan fictions feel at least vaguely possible in the Core Reality canon, there are potentially infinite alternate realities. I guess that's what this is. Also, this was supposed to be out in time for April 3rd. Oops. Missed that by just a bit. Real world stuff, multiple stories on the go, way too much editing and the ever-present foe of procrastination. Hope you enjoy regardless! In addition, now that Season 6 has ended... I guess I'm encouraged to finish this even more...]
A Gift
Fool's Day
It was supposed to have been soft mountains by now. Instead it stubbornly remained a white lake. Sugar, eggs and a good whisking. Simplicity itself you would assume, to turn such a simple set of ingredients into their desired form. Of course, being in deep space in a part of the universe that Earth probably can't even see much less have a name for makes the procurement of ingredients somewhat difficult. Sugars are simple enough. Common throughout the universe, much to the dismay of the dentists of the universe. Eggs though, chicken's eggs. Knowing the exact chemical composition of an egg would be tricky. It's not something you usually take with you on the average night out. Even if that potentially average night out ended up with an adventure in deep space, few people will ever have the forethought to take along such an oddly specific bit of data just in case. It was of course, far trickier to try then to explain your best guess of the chemical composition to a multiple millennia old machine whose primary language is far more complex than your own. The task was made more difficult again factoring in having to work through a translator who only partially understands Earth himself. The translator who in turn tried to relay his fragmented understanding of your best guess to said machine. To put it simply, making an artificial egg substitute was pretty quiznaking hard and Hunk was almost at his wits end. The fact the mixture - which was now mysteriously turning purple and starting to smell distinctly of feet - provoked a low groan from the Yellow Paladin. He hurled the latest batch of failed meringue into the waste disposal with an outward breath of frustration, turning his attention to his current helper, an Altean whose splendid moustache curled with his smile.
"What's the Earth expression?" Coran offered with an upbeat tone, "Third Time's the charm...?"
Hunks tired expression sank further, "You must have really lost count, Coran…" He groaned, "That was already the eighth attempt…"
"Oh, I know that!" Coran still beamed, "But that means that the next attempt is nine. The third third attempt! That must be like...the charm squared! Cubed even! There's almost no way we can screw up this time!"
"I'm going to take a break, Coran..." Hunk groaned once more as he took a heavy flop into a nearby seat. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if somewhere in the cosmos he might somehow, some way, chance upon another chicken-like species. It seemed possible but knowing the universe…they'd either shoot jets of boiling acid, be allied with the Galra or both.
Coran nodded, stretching himself out and clicking a few joints in the process, "I'll just have a little jog then, grab me once you're ready to get cracking again! Ha! See, little shell humour for you there…" The Altean gent broke into a sudden jog on the spot before taking off into the corridor.
Narrowly avoiding a collision, Lance shot Coran a confused expression before returning to an oddly introspective one. Seemingly lost in thought, the once Blue now Red Paladin looked uncharacteristically downbeat as he slowly made his way into the kitchen, perching alongside Hunk.
"You look just like a freshly kicked puppy..." Hunk's joke not even provoking a smile, "So what's up man...?"
Lance shuffled uncomfortably, an obvious expression of anxiety on his normally placid features. "I'm not sure that I've got my Altean time to Earth time right... But, today's April right...?"
Hunk nodded, "Yeah. April 1st, and I think either the computer or Coran must be playing me for a fool…" Hunk could still almost taste the foot scented meringue. "We've been gone for a lot longer than it feels some days... And some days it feels like a long long time... So, you're homesick. That it...?"
"No, well, yes but...just a little...ok a lot…but never mind that…I just know that... Well, there's…someone who's got it way worse than I do... I just...I... I can't get this out right…"
Hunk needed to do a double take just to make sure he was seeing this right. An already nervous Lance wasn't just struggling with his words he wasn't even making eye contact, and was he...blushing? "Oh! You must mean Coran and Allura I suppose...?"
Lance shook his head, "I guess they do have it worse after all... But I don't even know how you'd start trying to help someone whose planet is gone... Not even sure if this will help someone whose planet is just really really far away now I think about it... Actually..." A fake smile on his face, Lance stood to leave, "...thinking about it, this whole thing is probably a really bad idea..."
As Lance began to retreat, Hunk spotted something curious shoved into his friend's pocket. A roll of obviously heavily scrawled upon papers, most of the rolled length poking free. With a swift motion, Hunk nabbed the roll and began to examine it. He chuckled softly to himself at the hasty scribbles and Lance's famously awful handwriting. "Oh Laaaance...?" His tone a teasing song, Hunk turned to his friend with a smug smirk.
Lance stopped in his tracks, immediately reaching for the now empty pocket. He spins himself around, a look of fear on his face. His eyes rest on the unfurled papers, "H-How much of that have you read...?"
"I can barely read a word of it..." Hunk grinned, "But you kindly provided illustrations...is this what I think it is...?"
Lance looked away, "I guess that depends. What do you think it is...?"
"Ambitious, considering the time frame we have... A less positive person might call it impossible… Maybe you could have been a little quiznaking quicker coming to me…?" Hunk sighed.
Lance nodded, "I know... I know… I've just been…way overthinking this…"
"That doesn't sound like you…" Hunk chuckled, before his tone and expression turned serious. "There's also the very real chance that this could all backfire... You do get that…right...?"
Lance pouted, "I just wanted to get it right… And also, I was embarrassed to ask, ok? Can you blame me…? And yes, it may still screw up… But I guess if that happens then I can just take all the blame for it... Right? Easy to blame the stupid moves on the team goofball…"
"Lance, grab a shuttle, go to the space mall. Find something techy. Something green, maybe. Just don't waste your time with anything too cute. And don't bother with a dress. She will burn it. Probably." Hunk continued to examine the plans, "It really would be so much easier, y'know? I figured that's what you'd do anyway... Probably you'd get a few extra things just in case you weren't sure of getting the exact right gift…"
Lance furrowed his brow, "How's that…? You're kidding right? One, we have like zero ZAX… Two, between the great Kaltenecker caper and the emptied wishing fountain, how are we ever getting back in there…?"
"GAC." Hunk corrected, "Galra Approved Currency… And did you forget we went back already? First stop on Coran's round the cosmos Voltron Show…?"
Lance nodded, "Yeah, right…" He shrugged with a nervous smile, "Still doesn't help with a lack of GAC…"
Now it was Hunk's turn to look nervous, "Well…" He laughed, "See technically you've got quite a bit of GAC to your name… We all do… After the Voltron Show's initial run, there's still merchandise being sold, home recordings on some worlds, streaming services on the more advanced ones, a few still have syndication… Coran says there's even a planet taking the fight scenes, dubbing over us, adding in their own actors and calling it Super Taskforce Go-Lions! I'm kinda looking forward to seeing that…"
Lance was growing impatient. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of any of this!?"
Hunk smiled as innocently as he could manage, "Coran's exact words escape me… Something about responsibility and a lack thereof came up in the conversation… But, I'm sure he'll be happy to let you spend a little… And if not, I'm making a little on the side from Sal's sales…"
Lance was bewildered but set aside the newfound knowledge for now, "Look, space cash is great and all. Being able to actually get her something cool is…it's ok… But I don't know, if it feels like enough... I just know how hard it is for her right now and... Even if this only works for an hour or two... I just... I don't know..."
"Nah Man, you know..." Hunk examined the papers more closely, "You're worried about a friend, they've been distant, quiet...more so than usual anyway...we've all noticed it Lance. We've all noticed how worried you are about her as well... To be honest I think you care a lot more than you realise..."
Lance shrugged, "It's not like that Hunk..."
Hunk pointedly examined the plans in his hands, "Riiiiiight... I'm sure..."
"No, seriously!" Lance insisted, "I mean, sure... I care... I care a lot, but this isn't some attempt at...y'know..."
Hunk looked to the plans again, "This isn't you trying to hit on her…?"
"Right..." Lance confirmed, "That's not what this is... And honestly, I really don't want it to seem that way. She's down and I want her to smile... Hunk, she's just a friend of mine..."
"Yeah, I bet she tells herself that same lie..." Hunk mumbled to himself, "Alright Lance. Sure. I can help with all this, but we're going to need more than me. We have...wow, less than two days to get it all ready... I know I already said this, but you really are cutting it pretty fine... At the very least, you need to speak to Allura... Coran's always good as an extra pair of hands. Shiro will probably need to know if only to keep everyone's story straight... I mean, it's supposed to be a surprise, right...?"
Lance looked even less comfortable with every word Hunk spoke. "Maybe I should just stick with a bought gift...fire those plans into a star or something... I don't want everyone to know about this... Especially if they all get the same idea as you...about it being some cheesy pick up attempt…"
"What's this I spy?" Coran cheerfully asked, jogging in as his first lap around this floor of the castle ended, "Is there some benevolent conspiracy afoot? Or perhaps... Does Lance know how to make eggs? Can Kaltenecker make them too?! What part do we need to tug on for that to happen...?" His paled expression straddled the line between terror and curiosity.
Lance moved to grab the plans from Hunk, only to spot at the last second the tumbling cylinder of papers thrown like a baton to the waiting Altean. Unfurling the plans, Coran began to tilt them at various angles and distances from his confused face. Finally, a smile sneaked onto his features, as he turned to Lance, "Well, isn't all this sweet of you, eh lad...?" Lance's obvious embarrassment was steadily turning to simmering frustration. "Ambitious..." Coran echoed Hunks earlier sentiment, "I reckon that everyone pulling together could get this all arranged in time... Though, I don't see any meringue in the plans...?"
Lance gave Coran a suspicious look, "Why would there be any meringue...? Pidge hates the stuff... Says it's a waste of perfectly good sugar..."
Hunks face darkened, "Now you tell me... How can anyone hate meringue?! And how the heck has that even come up in conversation with you two...?"
Lance shrugged, "I guess we just talk about a lot of stuff on game nights… And usually we have a lot of game nights… Where do you think I got all these ideas from...? Anyway, it's not like she hates the taste of the stuff just, I dunno…the idea of it..."
"Right, because a conceptual hatred of meringue makes so much more sense…" Hunk whined.
"Probably need to make sure the Blue Lion wouldn't have a problem with this... I can't really imagine Lance's old partner being against it…she probably already suspects… You know, now that I think about it with that whole psychic link thing, those poor lions must see a lot more than they might ever want to... Just imagine all the stuff coming out of your human minds… Your human teenaged minds…" Coran thought out loud, shuddered a little. "We'll definitely need to speak to Allura..."
"If you must speak with me, then this is indeed good fortune." Allura announces to the room as she enters, "Are we all here to see how Hunk fares with his newest batch...?" Her eyes fell upon the anxious wreck that was once called Lance. He was trying to hide it, despite his crossed arms, furrowed brow, concerned expression and his nervous shifting from foot to foot. "Lance? Are you alright? You look as though a Byrean Colon-Crawler is dancing badly within you..."
"More like butterflies..." Hunk teased.
Before Allura could express her confusion at the Earth expression, she looked to a set of scrawls handed to her by Coran. "This is…most difficult to read…"
Lance swallowed hard, glaring at Hunk, "Why don't we just invite the Blade of Marmora along to help as well?" He hissed, "Maybe show that to the whole Coalition to get their help as well...?"
"It is not quite so ambitious that we need call upon all of our allies, Lance..." Allura reassured him, "Though I must confess, I am surprised to see as much thought and care put into this. Your writing is truly awful, but your kindness is moving..." Her expression soured suddenly, a single eyebrow raised, "I assume it is purely kindness that motivates you in this case...? There is no... Lance kind of motivation?"
Lance's blush deepened, "Why does everyone keep assuming that!? And what do you mean, Lance kind of motivation!? There's more to me than just a guy who's after girls! Right…?"
Silence.
Lance sighed, "No. There is nothing like that going on, Allura. No hidden plan, no Lance kind of motivation… I just want to do these nice things for a friend who is having a hard time of things right now..."
"Wait a sec, who else is having a hard time...?" A stern commanding voice asked from the corridor, Shiro walking purposefully into the dining area. He looked to Lance, reddened in the face and obviously distressed, his expression softened. "I see. Would it help to talk about it, Lance? We're all here for you."
Allura handed Shiro the notes, "Hunk assures us that Lance is suffering only with butter that flies. Whatever that may be. This should help explain matters."
As Shiro scanned the notes, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face, Lance felt his stomach turn in knots. "Your handwriting really sucks..." Shiro finally said, "Seems like it'll be tricky to pull everything off...ambitious..." He continued, "Oh and just so we're clear...this isn't some attempt to...well... woo a certain someone...?"
"Woo, Shiro? Woo? Come on man, you're not that old and nobody says woooooo anymore except for moaning ghosts in kid's stories..." Hunk groaned.
Lance gritted his teeth, "No. For the last quiznaking time, this isn't supposed to be anything like that. I just want to cheer up my friend who's feeling really down right now..."
Shiro made an uncertain expression, "Even considering this...last part...?" He lifted a page for the crowd to look at, drawing their attention to a smaller part of the doodle away from an elaborate though simplistic diagram. There was a quiet murmur of "aww" from all but Lance and Shiro as they looked at a blue stick figure with one arm around a green stick figure. "Did you just forget to draw on the little x marks…?"
"It's called comforting, Shiro." Lance clarified, despite his embarrassment being obvious, "Not making some kind of move, no x marks, just a way to comfort someone... That goes for the rest of you as well..."
Shiro smiled knowingly, "Alright then. Our roles seem pretty clear to me. We only have two days to get all this right. Allura, have a word with Blue, not that I expect Lance's former Lion will object to helping out with a totally platonic gesture meant solely for comforting a friend. Coran, star charts. Once you're done with that you and I will gather up some spare parts, hopefully we can find something suitable. Hunk, that leaves you here. There's a lot to do and almost no time to do it. Everyone up to it?"
The room, aside from Lance, responded with an energetic shared "Yeah!" before peeling off to their assigned duties.
Shiro looked to Lance before leaving, gesturing that Lance should follow. The two walked into the corridor, Shiro keeping conspiratorially quiet until he was sure the two were out of earshot from the kitchen. He turned very seriously and very sternly to Lance. "I need to be clear on something. I need you to be 100% honest with me, Lance." He was firm but steady, "You do like her, don't you? And please don't try to be smart, you know what I mean by like in this case..."
Lance was right back to be squirming and uncomfortable, barely able to look at Shiro, sighing deeply in an attempt to gather himself, "Ok, Shiro... Look…" Lance breathed deeply in and out, "To be 100% honest with you...I'm... I'm not really 100% sure… I mean, I know that I care about her...I care a lot about her... And she's... Well… You know…" He paused, Shiro s gaze urging him to continue. "Come on, man…" But reluctantly he obliged, with a quiet mutter, "She's cute alright? She's really really cute..."
"I see... Well, be that as it may, but she is also the daughter and sister of two very close personal friends of mine..." Shiro reminded him. "Close personal friends who would be very concerned for her well-being. In their absence, I share that concern. She deserves better than to be a passing fad to someone. Although she's more than capable of taking care of herself, I would prefer she not have to. Especially among fellow Paladins..."
"I get that...and you don't have to worry... I could never hurt her. She's like a best friend to me... I'd be too scared to lose that, scared she'd feel betrayed... Like she'd assume all those nights spent helping her unwind gaming were just...well, me being a different kind of player. But that's not true and I'd hate her to think that way about me... I guess I just don't even think of anything else ever being possible... And then there's the war, the team... Matt would kill me, her Dad would kill me once we find him, even seems like you would kill me now too… Look, whatever this is… I know it's probably better left alone... So, that's what I do…"
Shiro paused, silently considering everything Lance was saying, very carefully. "I believe you're being sincere Lance, but I'm not sure how all of that fits in with how you are around Allura...or the female population of the rest of the universe for that matter..."
"It's just bravado, man..." Lance shrugged, "It's safe, y'know...?"
Shiro frowned, "I'm not sure that I follow. It has literally left you in danger before."
"Sure, but... it's safe because... I'm not scared of losing some girl I just met that same day. I'm not really bothered about being turned down by them either... I even kind of expect it…" Lance found himself looking away, visibly frustrated to be telling anyone this, "As for Allura... Look, I know I don't really have a chance with her. I don't think that I have a chance with any girl really...but it's fun to pretend, right...?"
Shiro shook his head, "That is ridiculous, Lance. You're a good man. Maybe if you were less Lance the over the top act and more Lance yourself the results would be different? Maybe you're not space prince material, but… Are any of us, really...? Would we even want to be...? Coran is over 600 and he still looks what, 40, 45? When you think about an Altean lifetime, a human lifetime doesn't even come close. Would that ever be something anyone in that situation could accept...? Would it be fair on any human? Would it be fair on Allura...?"
Lance nodded, "It sort of sounds like you've given that more thought than I ever did..."
Shiro's expression was unreadable, "I guess so. But listen to me, Lance...lacking confidence, and I mean real confidence, it doesn't suit you. There's a big difference between the kind of role you play as and the kind of real sense of self-worth you should feel. The crazy thing is, you have every reason to feel confident in yourself. You don't need to go seeking a dose of self-worth from every alien female on every mission. You know that though, don't you? You called it pretending. You know deep down that the act is hollow, unfulfilling. Lance, I know that you deserve a lot better than that." Before Lance could object or pull away, Shiro took him into a firm hug.
Lance was silent. Stunned. He was used to being corrected, disciplined and generally chewed out by Shiro. He was used to being supported, knowing he could rely on Shiro as a friend and as a teammate. For the first time though, he felt as though he was genuinely loved by Shiro. Loved like a close friend, like a brother, like a Space Dad, like his family who were so far away on Earth. He fought back a struggling lump in his throat and a stinging at the corners of his eyes. "Thanks, Shiro..." His tone wavering.
"Ok now…" Shiro pulled away, placing a hand to Lance's shoulder, "None of that or you might just set me off... Lance, you are not any number of extra unnecessary wheel. You are not our weakest link. The only person who thinks any of that bull is you. You prove more and more every day how capable and dedicated you are. I've felt privileged to watch you grow before my very eyes. Allura may be the heart of Voltron, but as far as I'm concerned, you are the heart of our team. Goofball perhaps, but I think laughter helps keep us all sane..." Shiro cleared his throat softly, "Now. That said, we all have things to do. Assuming we can decipher your scrawls and hieroglyphics. Naturally, I've left you with the most important task of all. Running distraction."
Lance nodded, felt the uncertainty return to a warmth in his chest, a smile on his face. "I won't let you down."
Shiro patted him on the back as he walked off, "More important than that, McClain...don't let her down."
The quiet was an illusion, a really bad attempt to hide. No sounds coming from her room wasn't a great sign, everyone knew that. The clatter of keystrokes, the smell of soldering, even the soft sound of instrumental music were good signs. The illusion of silence meant that a single sound was being hidden. It was a sound Lance hated to hear from anyone, especially when he was powerless to help. If he listened carefully he could just make out the shuddering breathing, the whimper of pain. That was precisely why he didn't listen carefully. He knocked softly at the automated door. There was a short, shocked intake of breath from within.
"Pidge...?" Lance said softly into the metal door, "Feel like some company?" Silence responded. "Ok, fine..." He laughed, "You caught me. I'm the one who feels like company. Thought I could hide out with you while Shiro puts everyone else through extra training. If anyone asks, I sprained my ass. Sounds believable, right?"
An almost silent sniff, "I'm..." A small wavering voice responded, before it became more stable, "I'm...not dressed." It sounded just a little like a hasty lie.
"Ok, I can wait..." Lance responded, "You've been cooped up in there since breakfast. Huh. Pidge. Cooped up."
Her frustrated sigh, he knew it well, "Did it not occur to you that perhaps there's a reason that I want to be left alone, Lance...? Could you maybe just... I don't know, just do that...? Please...?"
The Red yet still fond of blue Paladin pressed a hand gently to the door, knowing full well it would be locked from within. "Of course I know that, Pidge. That's why I'm worried. That's why we're all worried... But if you really want to be left alone... I guess I'll just come back in…a little shy of a varga maybe...?"
That same sigh, now followed by a groan, "There's a difference between persistent and just being a stubborn ass... Fine, if I'm not getting rid of you, just hold on..."
Lance heard shuffling, the rustle of sheets and the soft slap of feet against the hard floor. The door opened just enough for the irate face of Pidge to poke out and for Lance to tell the room was completely dark. Her hair, usually unruly, was now a mess of random tufts and curls in every conceivable direction. Her lips were likewise curled into a clearly frustrated grimace. The frown wasn't quite as cute as the bed-hair. The worst and best part all at once were her eyes. Usually they were hidden behind a pair of decorative glasses, but not so now. Their subtle shades of brown, amber and gold all the more obvious, striking and just plain beautiful as her pupils contracted against the light of the hallway. Yet also, the tell-tale redness in the whites, soft pale skin irritated by rubbing, hastily dried stains, the gaze drifting away. Lance felt his heart sink in his chest, his hand twitching for a half second as he thought better of reaching out to embrace her.
"Well...?" Pidge's soft question hung in the air, "I'm alive. Just tired. Satisfied...?"
"I think you need some distraction..." Lance felt the heaviness in his chest twist as he fought against it, "Must be some project you're working on...? Maybe you could bounce ideas off me...?"
"Sure thing Lance. How about we talk about superluminal communication methods? Any ideas on that?" Her tone was spiteful, the anger rising at each suggestion. "How about a really big aerial so we can get a decent Wi Fi or radio or Bluetooth signal? Or Telegraph? Telegram? Carrier Pigeon? Message in a bottle maybe...? Semaphore!? Light the fires for Rohan...!?"
Lance looked sadly away, "Alright, point taken I guess..." He found himself leaning on the door in resignation.
"I'm sorry..." Pidge heaved a sigh, turning from his sad expression, "I just..." She pushed a panel letting the door slide open, Lance half tumbling in. "Damn it Lance, why do you do this...? How do you do this...?"
"Do what...?"
Pidge couldn't meet his eyes, "How do you always make me let you in...?"
The room lighting slowly turned to a dull glow. Pidge took her hand from a holographic display by her bed. She was dressed in a baggy pair of green boxer shorts, a white vest a size or two larger than she needed and her green lion slippers. Slowly and carefully she stepped over a few piles of junk, grabbed her duvet and tossed a pillow at Lance. Catching the soft object wrapped in a forest green case, Lance caught the faintest scent of a fragrant shampoo. He couldn't place it exactly, but it was somehow sweet, warm and familiar.
"Nowhere to really sit..." Pidge remarked, rolling her duvet onto a small patch of clear floor beside Lance. "Fart on that and you will suffer a wrath untold by any saga..."
He smiled kindly, shuffling himself closer beside her, propping himself upon the pillow. From above his head, a pair of Space Caterpillars curiously cooed from their perch atop their oddly familiar seeming climbing frame. "So…you're homesick." Lance said simply.
Pidge nodded, "Wretched homesick..." She confirmed, "Doesn't help that my..." She fell suddenly silent. "Never mind..."
Lance already knew what she meant. Despite her keeping it from everyone on the team, Shiro thought he had remembered and Matt had confirmed his suspicion about a week ago. April 3rd. Pidge's 16th Birthday. Millions if not Billions of Light Years away from home, her Father still missing and her Mother alone in an empty house. Lance knew it all. Had heard her muffled sobbing too often, felt powerless to do anything on the other side of the door too often. Now, sat beside her, he still felt equally powerless. Just as one barrier falls another takes its place. "I get it..." Lance reassured her, "We all get it... Some days we just think of it more than others... Try to put it aside, try to pretend it isn't real... Other days, reality catches up with us..." He found himself trailing a finger over the forest green duvet. "It's weird, the things you take for granted...it feels like it's been forever since I last just sat on some real grass. Ate something that I could pronounce or tell you where it comes from... Saw someone in the street I wanted to avoid... Even getting ticked off by that one song they won't stop playing this week... Things you never expect you'd miss..."
"Garlic." Pidge nodded, "Dad...whenever he tried to cook, whenever Mom let him that is… He'd always either drown out the other flavours in garlic or barely add enough to be able to taste it. There was never a middle ground... But I miss his garlic Russian roulette..."
"Man, now I'm missing garlic too..." Lance whined, "I haven't had a garlic knot in...I'm not even sure how long it's been..."
"Pretty sure you'd like my Mom's...she bakes them with a little molten pocket of mozzarella... Touch of fresh...basil..." Lance heard the crack before he saw the tears, "She's all alone Lance... Dad, Matt and Me... Mom watched us all just...disappear from her life... For all she knows...we could...be..." With not quite a shudder and not quite a snarl, Pidge turned her head away. "I think I want... No, I need to be alone now..."
Lance was hearing none of it. He closed the space between them, taking Pidge gently in his arms.
She bristled, tried to shrug him away, she began to shudder, sucking back unsteady painful gasps. "Please... Lance..."
"Let it out." Lance whispered as he pulled her closer, resting her head to his shoulder. He placed a hand to her head, gently soothing her, "I'm not going anywhere..." The scent of her shampoo was clear now. It was Coconut and Mango, or at least the closest chemical approximation the castle could produce. In an instant, Lance's memory brought him to warm white sand, clear blue water, the calm of the crashing surf. A kind smile he hadn't seen in such a long time. "Quiznak..." He murmured, the first tears already tumbling, his body already shuddering. He rested his head against Pidge's, the scent was so close to a hazily remembered shampoo his mother had sometimes used. He would smell it when they hugged. He didn't fight the tears any longer.
Pidge couldn't hold back either, between his insistence, his warmth, his own tears running hot to her scalp, she felt her will falter and her wall once again collapse. She sobbed hard into him, grasping him tight into her arms, tears flowing freely with every shuddering choked breath.
How long they cried for, neither was sure. Though it came in bursts of intensity, some so overwhelming they threatened to crush a spirit beneath them and others a vague numbness sucking out all but the ache of despair. By the end of it though, each turned to the other, tear stained cheeks already drying. Eyelashes still slick from the last of the tears, eyes and faces ruddy. The ache of their homesickness was far from faded, but they were just too exhausted to cry any longer. Blinking her eyes together to clear her blurred vision, Pidge offered Lance the smallest and slightest attempt to smile. Even though he could still see the pain in her eyes, Lance found solace in that smile as he returned it. It may not be a fact right now, just an unspoken promise. We will be ok.
"I'm sorry..." Lance blurted, unable to find any other words.
Pidge looked to him in silent confusion.
"See, I came here to make you feel better..." He explained, "And instead..." A fresh wave threatened, a single shimmering gem of pain rolled forth. With a swipe of a gentle thumb, it was gone. The sensation of her touch was sudden, unexpected, calming, wonderful in a dizzying surge of emotion.
"It's ok, Lance..." Pidge whispered, holding Lance close once more, "Usually, I feel ashamed to cry... Like it makes me weak for giving in to the pain... Everyone else around me just seems to cope..."
"Just masks..." Lance sighs, returning the comforting hug, "We let them down when it's safe... Crying is nothing to be ashamed of...everyone needs to now and then... And believe me, all of us do… But, I do want you to try something for me. Can you try?"
Pidge nodded against his shoulder, "What did you have in mind...?"
"When it hurts the most, promise that you won't shut me out." Lance stroked her hair gently, "I'm right down the hall. Well, I guess we're all close by...so it doesn't need to be me exactly, but I do have the Gameflux... And I..." Lance considered his next words, a little scared to admit it, but still, "I won't ever turn you away. Day or night, whatever. I will always be there for you... I promise..."
Two space caterpillars, one green, one blue, cooed happily above them.
Pidge seemed to freeze in his arms for a moment, as though the world was in the middle of rebooting in her head. Her lips seemed to silently waver for a moment and with a tiny whisper, replied, "Copy...and paste..." Lance felt the heat of her blush, as she wrapped her left pinkie finger to his right, "That sounded a whole lotless lame in my head... What I mean is... I'm there for you as well... I won't shut you out… I even pinkie promise..."
Lance felt his heart lift, "Fine. I Pinkie promise as well... Pidge, mi casa es tu casa..." He daringly, softly added, "Mi…cariño..."
Pidge lifted her head, giving him a sideways glance, "My Spanish isn't perfect, in fact it's pretty non-existent… But I get the distinct impression I should be a little concerned about that last part... Right?"
Lance shrugged, smiled.
"Well, I'm guessing your Italian is much worse..." With a playful smile, Pidge said in a lilting and soft tone, "Lance, sei duro come il muro...eppure...potrei guardarti tutto il giorno. Sono pazzo a di te..." Realizing what she had just said, Pidge lightly blushed and found herself very much hoping that Lance hadn't been hiding another language in his repertoire.
Lance just tilted his head in confusion. "Yeah, not a clue..." Though a stunned smile crept to his face. "Still...I think I could listen to you read the phone book in Italian...wow..."
Pidge rolled her eyes, shoving him a little, "Enough. Besides, where would I even find a phone book outside of a museum...? I think I want to do something a little more fun. How would you feel about an afternoon of being my punching bag on Cogs of The Sinful X5?"
Lance smirked, "Been practicing with Kysol. You don't stand a chance."
Pidge shook her head, "Practice all you want. You're strictly scrub tier until you learn to frame count..."
Pidge of course was not wrong. Lance was soundly trounced, round after round after round. He was however also fiercely competitive and refused to quit until he had at least secured a single victory. Even a single round of victory would do. He was even at this stage willing to take denying Pidge a Perfect as a very minor moral victory. A very minor moral victory which he was far more often than not denied. His frustration was being somewhat lessened however by the growing smile and excitement from the girl beside him. She was, perhaps, a bit of a bad winner. Smug, mocking, posturing with each win. It reminded Lance a little of himself, except Pidge could back up her boasts with genuine ability. A flash of a glowing smile and the sparkle of her eyes made Lance feel like his chest melted into a warm puddle of contentment. There she was again, her spirits lifted, the girl he knew he was falling for. It had crept up on Lance slowly, before he even realised he was feeling it, there it was. Unbidden, unheralded, unexpected. Unwanted, perhaps, if only because it was so sadly impossible to ever act on it. To risk losing their precious moments together forever wasn't a possibility he even wanted to imagine. Still, he kept falling deeper. No, in fact he had already fallen deep and he knew it. So badly and so deeply fallen that he dared not admit it, rarely even to himself and never to her.
"Screen's that way, Lance." Pidge mockingly nodded toward it, "At least pay attention as I pummel you... Do I have something on my face or what?"
"Just the best smile in the sector..." Lance said nonchalantly, as he turned back to the battle. Pidge's flow had momentarily broken. Lance was able to sneak in three entire hits which may in fact have been a personal record. Pidge still mercilessly beat his ass, even performing an absurd combo of 80 odd blindingly fast hits long after Lance's health bar was depleted.
"That was cheap." Pidge grumbled.
Lance snickered cheekily, "It almost worked though..."
Pidge remained unimpressed, "It's one thing if you're just being Lance and throwing around lines like you do with everyone else...but that..." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter..."
"You understand that I can tickle the truth out of you, right...?"
"Try it and you get a Bayard in some very delicate areas..." Pidge threatened, "Lance, what you said there... It just caught me off guard. I'm not really used to getting that sort of remark off you...or anyone really…" Though it wasn't just that bothering her. It was that the remark sounded genuine rather than a well-rehearsed pick up line, like it was just a casual statement of fact.
"I'm sorry..." Lance smirked, "I guess I should just make more remarks like that... Get you used to them…?"
Pidge decided it was best to ignore him, she wasn't feeling particularly patient enough to deal with this kind of teasing. "Considering how much training you must have missed, by now, I'm shocked that no one's come looking for you..."
Lance didn't take long to find a suitable excuse. It was one of the few extracurricular skills he had picked up in his years in education, "I told Coran I'd pulled a muscle in my..." He glanced downward to his crotch and wolf whistled, "It's the kind of thing nobody would want to come and check up on."
Pidge smiled, "Well, you got that right, based on your track record... Nobody wants to check on that..."
"Ouch." Lance gripped a hand to his chest, "You really know how to cut a guy deep... Point is, we're pretty much guaranteed to have all the time we want to ourselves... Though, I guess I am getting a little hungry..."
Pidge went to adjust her glasses, realizing with slight embarrassment that she had left them in her own room. "We should grab some lunch then…" Correcting herself as Lance showed her the time on her own borrowed phone, "Ok, dinner then… Lost track of time… I need to drop by my room anyway..."
Lance realized that could be a problem very quickly. Chances were high that Hunk would still be hard at work on his appointed tasks in the kitchen. "You're still in your PJs Pidge, let Lance care of it. You just relax, ok?"
The being waited on thing seemed suspicious, but she could get used to it. She'd let it slide. For now. "Fine. See if you can find my glasses in my room. Touch nothing else. I will know. I'll see if I can find a game where you stand a chance against me... There's bound to be something among the 86,000 odd ROMS that provide a suitable handicap for you..."
"Well, thank goodness for your pirated software having some use..." He goaded.
"ROMS have been a perfectly legit way of video game archiving since the 20th century." Pidge rattled off her usual defence, "Really, you should respect me as the curator of such an awesome museum."
Lance nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I guess you are pretty awesome..."
He left through the automated door, leaving Pidge to contemplate his words. Another case of honesty, a casual statement of fact. Maybe she was just reading too much into it. Seemed likely. Math, Science, the fundamental forces of nature and reality, all child's play. Dealing with human feelings and emotions...not so much. Better just to avoid them entirely. Just distractions after all. Stupid distractions. Stupid smiling distractions. Stupid smiling, stupid handsome, stupid blue eyed...utterly infuriating yet undeniably adorable stupid distractions... Flopping her back to the floor, Pidge exhaled deeply. "It's just a dumb crush, Katie. You know that... That's all it is, all it will ever be and all it ever was..." She whispered. Six curious little eyes meet her gaze from the far corner of the room. Sometimes she wondered if the Altean mice could phase through solid walls. Given everything humanoid Alteans were capable of, it wouldn't have entirely shocked her. Their twitching ears and growing expressions of joy seemed to suggest an unavoidable fact. The mice had heard her little attempt to convince herself. They know. Distracted. Stupid. Careless. "Quiznak…"
Platt began to strut and pose, puffing out his ample chest and preening his yellow and green fur. The grin and finger guns he directed to Chuchule were almost spot on. Meanwhile, with an unmistakably haughty pose, the pink mouse and object of Platt's pantomime of passion, turned in exasperation away from the overt displays of posing, grooming, smiling. Chulatt, forepaws crossed over her fuzzy blue chest fur glared at the two before angrily tugging at Platt's tail. Platt of course remained oblivious as Chulatt walked away and silently fumed. Their act finished, the three took a bow.
Pidge couldn't decide if she should be impressed or embarrassed. She opted for a combination of the two. "Ok… Guessing you won't believe, April Fools will you…?"
The mice looked momentarily confused, before shaking their heads.
"So, what is your silence going to cost me…?" Pidge sighed. "And don't get any ideas, by silence I mean you may not speak, psychically communicate, mime, interpretive dance or make any other form of communication about this topic to anyone or anything in the universe…"
The mice huddled together, chittering softly. They all nodded as one before standing in a line smallest to largest. Platt mimed holding an object between his forepaws, offering it to Chulatt and Chuchule. Each of the two smaller mice mimed taking something from between his paws, exaggerating bites and contented smiles.
"Hunk's cookies." Pidge guessed, being answered by affirmative chirps, "Ok… How many…?"
Returning to their line, all three held up their open forepaws for a short while, each of their eight little digits wiggling. Chulatt then scampered to the end of the line, making a fierce expression and standing as tall as she could, also opening her paws wide.
"Eight each, not forgetting Plachu. Fine. You guys realise that's 32 right…?" Pidge felt her heart sink.
The three looked to each other thoughtfully. They nodded before they all at once sprawled onto their backs and extended their hind paws as well, doubling their order in one fell swoop.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
Platt, a smug grin on his features as he stood, simply shook his head.
"And how long do I have…?"
Chuchule shrugged, tapping at a mimed watch impatiently. Chulatt made an impatient gesture of shooing Pidge. The three fell about with squeaks of laughter.
Pidge grimaced. Wonderful. Now she had to secretly put in an order without bumping into Lance on the way there or back. Comms were too loud. Too easily overheard, especially if Hunk was in the kitchen. She turned to a ventilation grate. Ideal, if perhaps a little bit space dusty. Still, this wasn't her first time in the vents. Hunk would most likely be in his room or failing that the kitchen. Easy enough route to take. Clambering up and inside with a well practised manoeuvre, the grate opened easily to her deft hands. "Note to self, seriously consider a space cat…or a whole army of space cats…"
Lance had barely stepped into the corridor before his jeans were being tugged at by insistent little paws. A tiny figure scurried up and along the fabric, hurling itself to his jacket and finally coming to rest on Lance's shoulder. Fierce - yet somehow still cute as a button - eyes fixed Lance in a cold glare. Plachu extended an authoritative paw, emphasising it with what was probably supposed to be a low and commanding squeak. Though Lance had to stifle a laugh as the critter attempted the feat.
"Allura send you?" Plachu nodded sternly, "Ok, fine little guy. I just have a few stops to make first…" The space mouse frowned, "Awwww…" Lance gently bopped the creature on it's nose, "You're so scary…" Plachu's whiskers twitched in miniature fury.
A short journey along the corridor led Lance and his new passenger to Pidge's room. The door allowing him passage, much to the surprise of Plachu. The mice knew far more than perhaps they should about the private lives of the Paladins. The sort of things that even the mischief making spies knew better than to reveal. Until now they had only seen one person granted free access to Pidge's empty room, the Green Paladin herself. Even the mice had to be allowed in after their usual vent access had been blocked. Yet Lance seemed to be one of two people on the automated door's allow list. Plachu made a mental note to gossip about this with Allura later.
With a curious cooing, Pidge's pet Space Caterpillars turned to Lance as he entered. "Don't worry you two, just looking for a pair of glasses…" The green and blue space creatures looked to Plachu, gesturing to their perch with a twitch of their bodies. The green caterpillar shoved the smaller cylindrical top section around, the junk depicted face of the statue meeting the mouse's perplexed expression. As Lance hunted, Plachu hopped from one Lance to another.
Regarding the Junk-Lance with growing curiosity, Plachu gestured first to the statue and then to the searching Paladin. The caterpillars, partially hovering, dipped their bodies down as if to nod, their normally expressionless eyes lighting up as if in relief. Plachu squeaked loudly, startling Lance.
"What's up little guy, you find them?" Lance's brow furrowed as Plachu's squeaking grew louder. The tiny creature thrust its arms toward the Junk-Lance insistently, even fiercely, then back again to him. Lance's response was a simple, "Huh…?" Plachu's gestures and squeaks, already quite furious only seemed to double in intensity. Even the two space caterpillars began to gesture their stubby legs between the Lances. Scratching his head, Lance returned to a pile of promising looking junk.
Comforted by the gentle touch and soft chirruping of the Space Caterpillars, Plachu face-pawed.
The oblivious Lance meanwhile had finally found the spectacles, placing them upon his face. He had expected to be hit with a wave of nausea as the world warped, but quickly remembered that they were purely for decoration. And Pidge claimed she had no sense of accessorizing. "I look smarter, right?" His grin was particularly and deliberately goofy.
The three creatures nestled on the Junk-Lance glared silently back.
"Has Pidge even given you guys names yet…?" Lance directed to the Caterpillars as he clambered over what seemed to be a Jenga tower of mismatched and mangled machinery. The two creatures turned their bodies slowly from left to right, mimicking a shaking head. "Seriously? Ok… How about Blue, you can be… Little Lance. Green, Petite Pidge… Those sound ok…?"
The two caterpillars looked a little confused, a little less than impressed. Plachu meanwhile reluctantly hopped back onto Lance's shoulder. "Ok… I guess that would be a little lame…" Lance's tone was apologetic, "I'll give it some more thought…" A sudden flash of inspiration struck, a snippet of what for most would be a long-forgotten moment of childhood. Just a random science lesson about Radioactivity. It may have stuck with him for any number of reasons, though it was probably because the substitute teacher the school had brought in was a fox and even a much younger Lance knew it. Thinking about it, she was also a fiercely intelligent brunette. Pointing first to the green caterpillar, "Marie." And then to the blue caterpillar, "Pierre."
The two creatures, now named, turned to each other. They began happily chirruping and glowing their approval. "Nice." Lance grinned, "Now I need to get you guys a collar each… I guess that's one gift idea…" Sensing their uncertainty, Lance reassured them, "Don't worry, I'll find something stylish and comfy for you guys…" He gently ruffled their silken fur, provoking happy little peeps from each before leaving the room.
Plachu tugged at Lance's jacket, urgently urging the boy forward. "I said a few stops… Food goo calls…" Lance adjusted Pidge's glasses and smirked down at the grumbling space mouse.
Hunk was familiar with almost every noise the kitchen made. Every shrieking nureek, every errant squirlookal, every clang, clatter, rattle and bang. He had even grown quite used to the machine that goes bing that he was sure did very little indeed. Given that there was nothing being steamed, pressure cooked or even placed in a bain-marie – at least not yet, that was stage eight of recipe 12 according to his flow chart – he was quite confused where the hissing pssssst had originated from. He looked about curiously, flitting from dish to dish as he did. An almost overwhelming aura of clashing sweet scents vied for his attention. A caramel was busy turning brown, a chocolate substitute quivered, the freezer quietly hummed to itself with that tune that only freezers and fridges know. That same psssssst again, this time louder and more insistent, followed by a rhythmic tapping from above him. "Hello…?" Hunk asked the vent above him.
"Finally!" Pidge's voice responded, her eyes flashing in the gloom of the ventilation system. "Listen, I can see you're busy… I can smell you're busy… What are you even making…? Smells amazing…"
"Not busy!" Hunk almost squealed, whisking a mixture even as he did so, "Not making anything! Your nose lies to you!" The panic was settling in. Secrecy was hardly his forte.
Pidge decided not to press further, "Hunk, I really need a favour…"
Already hassled Hunk's face was a mask of acceptance, "S-Sure thing!" He stammered and bleated, "I'm not busy with anything, so a favour is fine! Sure!"
"It's a big ask…" The ventilation system echoed with her nervous tone, "A huge ask probably… But, I'll wash the dishes for a month… Two months even! I'll even give The Yellow Lion a wax and polish! Whatever crazy thing you need, I just need this favour super badly."
Hunk, scurrying over to a pot of caramel gave it a stern glare, "You burn, you will regret it…" He warned the confection with a low growl, "Ok Pidge!" Hunk said as loudly as he could, trying desperately to summon help, "Pidge in the vents! That's fine! I can do that thing you're asking, Pidge in the vents!"
Pidge was starting to wonder if Hunk had finally cracked. Cracked or not, he had already agreed… So… "Thanks buddy! That's 64 of your sugar cookies! I need them pretty quickly too! Just drop them off in my room! Don't let me down! Thanks!" Before Hunk could offer a protest to the vent, the rapid metallic thumps made it clear that Pidge was most of the way gone already.
"Quiznak…" Hunk seethed.
Lance arrived outside the doorway. A table had been set up, blocking the entrance. A polite note asked that nobody interrupt Hunk on pain of death. A slightly friendlier arrow pointing to several pre-pumped bowls of food goo and a haphazard pile of sporks. Maybe it was the barricade and the note. Maybe Hunk's scowling, sweating features. It may have been the chuntering tirade of Quiznaking Quiznak repeated over and over again. Maybe it was a combination of them all that led Lance to believe that leaving without a word was best. Clutching bowls and sporks, Paladin and Mouse held their breaths as they quietly sneaked away.
Allura's impatience and feelings of slight awkwardness were growing. She had run out of topics to talk about that were small. Weather had been mentioned more than once. She had exhaustively gone over as much of the plans as she could read. She smiled politely to the open communication hanging above her. "I am sure he will be along shortly…" The Altean Princess assured for what felt like the third or ninth time.
"Take your time…" The dreamy and distant tone of Matt responded. "I could spend the day here…" He grinned hopelessly and stupidly. Allura meanwhile was not blind to the second person in frame, stood toward the back of a rather dilapidated looking room among a jumble of boxes and containers. Nyma's look, her glare. If it could kill, it would have laid waste to several worlds by now.
"Not as though we have a resistance to deal with…" Nyma's complaint fell once more onto deaf ears.
The silence lingered. Allura's smile wavered. Matt sighed softly. Nyma silently fumed. A second before Allura was about to mention the weather again, the silence was broken by the sound of a door hissing open. Plachu, chittering fiercely, had taken to using the two sporks to spur Lance onward.
"Thank the stars…" Allura mumbled beneath her breath. "Alright! It's been lovely chatting we simply must do so again at some point!" Allura sometimes cursed her royal upbringing. Despite that being the correct, entirely appropriate platitude to use in this situation, the gobsmacked look on Matt's face implied he had taken it to be a much more personal invitation. Even as she walked away, she could still feel eyes both gazing and raging at her. "Lance!" She said perhaps a touch too happily, "I'm so glad that you're finally here… It seems Matthew would like a word! I have much more to do elsewhere!" Allura gave Lance a brief quizzical expression, smiled to herself and quickly departed.
Lance swallowed hard, gently placing the bowls of food goo to one side. Plachu clattered the sporks alongside them before scurrying together with the already retreating Princess. Hanging above Lance like a malevolent Oz, Matt's expression suddenly turned deadly serious. With a nod, Nyma removed herself from the room. Lance and he were alone. Lance smiled kindly. Matt did not. The younger boy shuffled uncomfortably in the older man's gaze. Matt tapped a finger to his left temple. Lance continued to just nervously smile. Frustrated, the elder Holt drew a rough shape about his eyes, his expression growing sterner. Lance blinked. He remembered what he was wearing. With a quick flourish he removed the Holt spectacles placing them softly beside the food goo bowls. He smiled back to Matt, nervousness turning to a distinct fear, Lance was sure he could feel himself sweating.
"Well." Matt's stern and sudden first word felt as though it would make Lance leap from his own skin. It was only with a supreme effort of will that the nerve-wracked younger man prevented himself from shrieking. Matt's expression was not entirely unlike a combination of a doctor examining a wart and a sniper steadying his breath. "Princess Allura tells me you've sparked quite the ambitious undertaking for a certain special day..."
Lance nodded mutely.
Matt nodded back, "Going through some of the details with her, I was quite… Surprised shall we say. Surprised at the lengths you seem willing to go to. Whilst you kept us both waiting, I had the time to have a little chat with Shiro as well. He assures me that I'm just…overthinking…"
Lance found himself blinking rapidly. He was certain that was sweat he could feel now.
"That I'm possibly being…a little over protective…"
Lance's heart began to pound against his ribs. It probably wanted to run away as much as the rest of him.
"You're an older brother yourself, so I suppose you know where I'm coming from…" Matt's tone was icy.
This time the nodding from the paling Paladin was far more rapid.
"Tell me, Lance…" Matt's scowl darkened, "Just what are your intentions toward my little sister…?"
Facing down an entire Galra fleet with nothing but a stick seemed a better option than this right now. Hands and fingers shaking, sweat now less a suspicion and more a close personal friend, heartbeat pounding upward to a rapid rhythm that would probably be considered too much for even the heaviest and most deathly of metal. Lance took a deep breath in through the nose, slowly out through the mouth. "…" That was supposed to be words, but instead it was a muted squeak. Lance cleared his throat, "I… Just want her to feel better…"
Matt's expression softened by a very small degree. A metallurgist might say it had softened from a Tungsten right down to a Titanium. A very small degree. "Go on…" Matt prompted.
Lance's shoulders slouched, "Pidge has been having a hard time of it… Wretched homesick she called it… All this time searching for you, still looking for your Dad after all this time… And hard as she tries, every attempt at super luminous communication seems to fail…"
"Super luminous…?" Matt regarded Lance with a confused expression, "I assume you mean superluminal as in faster than light… Something to help her get in touch with people back on Earth…?"
"Right, that's it…" Lance agreed, "I've lost count of all the ways she's tried…"
"She's worried about Mom…" Matt sighed, "Can't blame her. I've been trying to find a way to let Earth know we're ok as well. Something the Galra can't trace… It's… Well, I won't waste my time going over the specifics of it with you, but I'm sure you can see from Pidge's efforts that it's not easy…"
"Yeah…and she's no good at taking breaks…" Lance ventured, "Which I guess only makes it harder…"
Matt actually smiled now. Lance felt his stomach turn a somersault, "She never was good at that… Gets totally absorbed in her work, right…?"
Lance's smile was part relief and part fond memories. The number of times he'd had to act as food delivery for the younger Holt, always met with a solid resistance at first. Then just before leaving, after she gives in, being rewarded with the sight of her content and re-energised. The sight of her thankful smile. "That she does… Lost count of how many forgotten meals I've had to take to her..." Lance realised his tone sounded just a little too distant and dreamy a little too late.
"That so...? I'm surprised you even get close enough to give her a meal. Pidge can be pretty territorial at the best of times. She's several factors worse mid project…" Matt shook his head with soft sigh, "You can't be that much of a jackass if she isn't chasing you away… And she lets you wear those glasses… Assuming you were allowed…" He seemed thoughtful now, reflective, "Maybe this whole thing will be a much-needed way to help her unwind a little… Maybe I am just overthinking and being over protective…"
"Any chance you can make it?" Lance asked, hoping at last that the conversation might become a little more pleasant. "Pidge'd be happy to see you."
Matt shook his head sadly, "Can't. Stuck mid-operation over here, not exactly in a position to easily extract ourselves… Why else do you think I'm just talking to you…? If I could be there I wouldn't be worried…"
"I'm sure Shiro will fill in for you. Maybe chaperone or assassin…?" Lance only half joked. "If you can't be here, do you think you'd at least be able to drop a message…? Maybe I could get something, put your name on the tag…? Or not, I guess… I don't know…"
"You're babbling." Matt silenced him, "Yes. Shiro will fill in for me. Count on it. And I'm counting on him being both if necessary. Though, against my better judgement, I'm not exactly sure it will be…" Matt smiled, "I'll try to get in touch on the day… Nice idea about the gift, I suppose… But I'm not sure that I trust you to get something I'd be happy to put my name to…"
"That photo of you and Pidge needs a frame…?" Lance ventured hopefully.
Matt's expression turned bemused and thoughtful, "I guess it does… So I suppose you've proven me wrong. That is something I'dbe willing toput my name to. You're not as much of an idiot as I suspected… Clearly there's more to you if Pidge considers you her friend… I would hate to see her trust in you betrayed…"
Lance nodded, "If I ever did anything to hurt Pidge, you'll be fourth in line to kick my ass…"
"Pidge would, then Shiro would, then me…" Matt concluded. "Who else…?"
Lance pointed to himself, "Me. I'd be first in line…"
Matt rolled his eyes. "She is right about one thing… You really are a hopelessly cheesy goofball…" He grumbled, "So now we're on the same page, I've been at this far too long already…"
"Hold up a sec!" Lance interjected, "You're…Italian, right…?"
Matt blinked then stared confused to Lance. "Last time I checked, yes…?"
"You think you could…translate something for me…?" Lance asked hopefully.
Matt looked at him pityingly, "I think you're reading this situation a touch wrong, Lance. If you think I'm helping you write some kind of a sappy poem…"
Lance laughed a little, maybe a lot nervously, "Yeah, good one… But I just wanted to know what this insult was…" He paused, thoughtful, before repeating a hazily remembered earlier conversation. "Say do-row come in moo-row..." He paused again as he tried to recall the rest of the statement.
"Your pronunciation is horrible…" Matt shuddered, "But, basically she was calling you dumb as a brick wall." He laughed softly, "Bet it sounded a lot better before you understood it, right…?"
Lance sighed, "Yeah, figured it'd be something like that… Not sure I want to know the rest…"
"There's more?" Matt seemed to beam, "Well, now I am interested, Pidge's insults can be savage…"
Lance shrugged, thinking maybe this could help break some of the remaining ice between them. Worth a shot. "It was something like… He-pour-ay portray guard-arty two-toe eel-lay jaw-no… So no pants-oh ah dee tay…" Lance looked very pleased with himself, that feeling quickly fading as he saw Matt's sour and unimpressed expression, "Guessing I butchered the pronunciation again, right…?"
"If your pronunciation was meat, then even starving dogs would turn their noses up…" Matt sighed heavily, "As for what I think you just said… I get the feeling I should really have a polite word with my little sister…"
"Woah there!" Lance protested, "If it's really that bad then don't get too mad at her, ok? How was I supposed to know she was swearing like a trooper…?"
Matt rolled his eyes before cutting the communication off with a heavy press to the screen.
Lance wasn't sure if what had just happened went very badly or very well. Or a measure of both, with no certainty of the greater share. He was however glad it was finally over. He flopped himself to the floor like a rag doll, allowing himself a heaving breath of deep relief. It was only now that a pin from earlier in the conversation finally dropped. "Wait… Pidge talked to Matt about me…?"
"I talk to Matt about everyone…" Pidge's expression was inscrutable, her eyes hidden behind her glasses and the glow of the screen. This wasn't exactly a lie. She just needed to downplay how often she talked about Lance. About how he infuriated her and nothing else. She took an absent-minded nibble on a sporkful of food goo. "I talk to him more about how my projects are going… But of course, I need to vent to my family from time to time… When he's not deep in a mission for the resistance… But, why were you talking to him…?"
Lance shrugged, "Allura was mid-way through a conversation with him anyway, so…"
"I see…" Pidge sighed, "Asserting your territory again…" With a quick flurry from her darting thumbs, a burning uppercut confirmed yet another KO in her favour, Lance's last man twinkling to a distant star. This game was slightly less easy to frame count, but good situational awareness and proper item use was essential. Lance struggled even when she had let him grab a hammer or two first. She yawned, stretched, finally feeling tiredness creep up on her. "I must be getting sleepy, you knocked two entire lives off…even if it did take your whole stock of ten to do it…"
Lance smiled as she stood, "You never did explain where you picked up all of that space dust…" He nodded to her now mucky vest, "I know it wasn't from in here…"
"Keep telling yourself that, clean freak. Somewhere in this room, the dust bunnies with minds immeasurably superior to your own regard this room with envious eyes. Slowly, but surely, they draw their plans against you…" Lance laughed softly at her deflection, she shuffled herself away as he stood, gently adding, "Thanks by the way… For today… I guess I needed to be dragged out of my…"
"Nest?" Lance teased, "Yeah, you really did need that… And, you're welcome. Like I said, any time, day or night, I'm here." Taking a cautious step forward, he raised an arm, moving to hug. Pidge is not a hugging type, he suddenly realised before awkwardly turning the gesture into a grin and a soft pat on her upper arm.
If Lance had blinked, he would not have seen it. So gentle it could be mistaken for a breeze. Pidge, for all but a moment, hugged him and pulled herself away again. Letting him get close when she was upset was one thing. But this… Her initiating was rarer than eggs in deep space. Or at least it had been. "G'night…" She offered near silently before scurrying from the room.
Lance just smiled. The warmth in his chest rising to meet the brief and now fading warmth of her momentary embrace. "Sweet dreams…" He said to the now empty room.
Clustered in a rough circle about a still heaving pile of sugar cookies, four little creatures, bellies bloated and movements sluggish all groaned as one. The space caterpillars each took tiny nibbles of the cookies utterly unchallenged by the mice. Pidge tiptoed around the greedy space rodents toward her waiting bed. Coran must have let himself in to drop off the confections, letting the mice swoop in as well, she guessed. Try as she might, it was almost impossible to deny Coran access for all but a few handfuls of Ticks. He was probably cheating by using some archaic physical lock and key system. Perhaps finding that could be a challenge for tomorrow. Assuming the relative quiet remained so. She did need to make plans to distract herself after all. It wasn't as though she doubted Lance's sincerity in his promise – the earnest look in his kind eyes was enough to cast that doubt aside – but reality had a tendency to get in the way. Reality and Lance's occasionally flighty nature. For a moment, a small ache swelled as she wished she'd had the nerve to hold him for longer. It was however quickly replaced with irritation as she looked to her bed sheets.
Arranged in mess of crumbs and spelled out in an assortment of teeth-hewn letters, the remnants of nearly half of the cookie order asked her quite the blunt question in all capitals. WHY NOT JUST TELL LANCE HOW YOU FEEL? The fact the space mice knew English wasn't as surprising as how well they had depicted the question mark. Pidge squatted herself to the floor, poking a chuckling Platt in his distended little stomach. The chuckling soon gave way to a groan and a surprisingly loud belch for such a tiny creature.
"To answer your question, my bloated little blackmailers…" Pidge teasingly hovered a finger over Platt's stomach again, "I have this really bad habit of misplacing the people I care about the most…" Her smile hiding a sudden and unwelcome shadow of sadness. "But doing something as dumb as that could turn my usual habit of misplacing into losing… I know that I'll find my Dad and I'll see my Mom again… But some things, you just can't fix, not if you ever want them to be the same again... I don't want to risk that… Besides…" She sighed, "I know that I'm not really his type…" Her Dad wouldn't have been impressed of course. His mantra was always that one should take a risk rather than worry too much about the consequences. Inaction led to stagnation. Still, she wasn't worrying about what might happen if she were honest. She was simply avoiding what she knew would happen. The thought of her father and his favourite piece of advice made her heart ache all the more.
Sensing the growing melancholy in her, Green and Blue space caterpillars hovered over, nuzzling their soft fuzz to her face and cooing soothingly. Plachu, struggling a little, pulled himself atop the bed and began rearranging the letters. Watching the little mouse work, Pidge returned the affection of her nameless caterpillars with a soft stroke beneath their chins. YOU TELL. Plachu's message read, the Altean animal nibbling on the rest of the question mark. LANCE FEELS TOO the message continued, the other letters had been hurled – mostly quite accurately - to the plate on the floor.
Pidge smiled to the little mouse, a pitying gesture as she patted him on the head with a fingertip, "Nope." She shook her head softly, gesturing that the little critter should skitter his way down. "We're just friends…" Plachu stubbornly refused to move, still desperately pointing at his message even as Pidge poured mouse and cookies alike to the floor. "Keep the noise down guys. G'night…" As she settled down, she felt the sadness gnawing at her, hoping against hope that the night would bring pleasant dreams for the first time in weeks. Feeling her anxiety, two hovering fluff balls cuddle closer to her, soon taken into an embrace.
A more severe than usual look on his face, staring at his message, now shattered into sugary crumbs. Reassuring smiles from his family did little to appease him. For the second time that day, Plachu face-pawed.