This is all Nicollini and brawlerina's fault! Wouldn't have written this story without our constant voltron-talk, not to mention your amazing support, girls. So yes, this one is for you! You're awesome! *hugs*
Many thanks to Bookreader525 for her great beta-work!
Lance can see it in the way Pidge bites down on her lower lip, in the way she lowers her eyes. He knows what she wants to say. It's the same words he wants to say to her.
And he wonders if these words are dancing on her tongue like they are dancing on his, if they're prickling as much on her lips as they are prickling on his. He wonders if he leaned down and kissed her he'd taste them on her lips and if she'd taste the exact same words on his.
Be careful.
They have this silent agreement to never say them. Because they don't have the luxury, the right to do so. They are fighting a war, a war against an alien tyrant. They'd both give their lives for the greater good if they have to, and they both know it.
Be careful.
The words linger in the air between them, unsaid, unallowed, and so very urgent.
Lance places a hand on Pidge's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Because that's all the touching they allow themselves although all his body is pressing him to move forward, to enfold her in an embrace, to never let go.
That's something else they agreed never to do.
"Good luck!" he says with a smile as warm as he can muster, trying to keep all the fear, all the insecurity, all the sadness of not seeing her for a while out of his voice. And while he's sure he's doing a good job, he knows that Pidge caught it. She always does.
Yet she replies with a smile of her own and the same words he just said. "Good luck!"
It's all they permit themselves to say - good luck. They don't even say 'goodbye' or 'see you' because there is always this chance that they won't see each other again. They know it, yet even thinking it makes Lance's chest tighten, making the words they are never supposed to say almost hurt on his tongue.
Be careful.
He lets his hand rest on Pidge's shoulder for a little too long. It's a bending of their rules, but sometimes, he just can't help himself. And Pidge usually allows it. She does today, too, but after a while, she looks at him, her eyes pleading, and reluctantly, Lance removes his hand.
He smiles at her once more and she replies with a little wave of her hand. Then they walk to their Lions.
But before Lance enters, he stops, turning his head to look at her one last time. Pidge never does that. She can control herself better than he can. It's always been that way.
Be careful, Lance thinks the words again that have been waiting on his tongue for such a long time now. Please, Pidge, be careful!
The words press against his teeth, trying hard to pry his tightly pressed lips open, to finally make their way out. His lips part the tiniest bit, and Lance quickly turns away, pressing his lips together so much it hurts. He doesn't dare to breathe, doesn't dare to do anything that could make these words slip from his lips.
Once in his Lion, he takes a deep breath.
"Be careful, Pidge," he whispers because he knows she can't hear him.