As much as Pidge loved to hurl venomous vitriol at her compatriots at regular intervals, she privately conceded that she was also susceptible to the bounds of mortality, fallibility, and stupidity. Most of her self-loathing stemmed from her 'crush' on Lance. (Allura insisted on referring to it as a 'crush' as opposed to her preferred term: 'affliction') She wasn't sure what mystical force from beyond the veil of reality planted the idea in her mind that Lance was anything other than abjectly awful. He was an obnoxious dolt who went out of his way to make an ass out of himself and piss off his teammates to no end. How, in the most far removed phylum of existence, could she be into someone like him?

Allura only made things worse. Ever since her confession, she would constantly catch Allura subtly smirking at her whenever Lance would make some dimwitted comment and once elbowed her in the stomach after he made some quip about using her sex appeal to seduce hostile aliens. She wasn't sure which party she wanted to brutally murder first. Perhaps there existed a possibility wherein she could use one's body to beat the other to death.

"I must say, Miss Gunderson, Allura's faith in your squad has been well placed. A few more training exercises, and you might just have a chance at supplanting my level of skill."

"Let's hope so, for the sake of everyone else," Pidge had done her best to avoid Allura's constant pestering about their shared knowledge. Despite Coran somewhat abrasive personality, recent events had made him a paragon of social etiquette, particularly in relation those in her immediate surrounding. "It's not like we have to-"

"Oh, hey. Sorry, guys, having a bit of a fashion emergency here."

Pidge was someone who liked to keep others at arm's length. She recognized that other people had their own share of emotional baggage, but one fear that consistently festered inside of her was looking weak or unstable in front of her contemporaries. She was a pilot on a quest to save the universe from an empire of amoral thugs, meaning emotions had little room for thought. Worse than that, however, was revealing that she could in fact be flustered, and having Lance take his shirt off in front of her gave her the Blue Screen of Death.

"I took a shower, then suddenly all my shirts are gone, but don't worry about me, I'll hunt down the culprit if it's with my dying breath."

Lance would often pull this stunt at the Garrison. He would strut around with a towel on his waist, his firm chest open for the world to revel in its glory. While it was terrible when he did it then, his current augmented muscular stature made it dread incarnate.

She had to be grateful he never managed to drop it.

"Ah, a mystery! One not unlike those by the human author Arthur Conan Doyle!" Coran was clearly excited by the possibility of assisting Lance. "I shall be the Watson to Lance's Sherlock Holmes!"

Lance smiled at Coran's enthusiasm. "Or the Robin to my Batman!"

The comment made something in Coran's brain go haywire, as his gaze was fixated on the petrified Pidge. "Oh my goodness…" He whispered.

"Hey, no problem. You can totally be Superma-"

"THE SLIPPERIES!"

The two Paladins incredulously looked at him.

"Not to worry, my dear friends, there is a simple solution: Lance, I would request that you refrain from removing your shirt around Miss Gunderson, for it clearly induces The Slipperies on the poor girl. Just look at her!"

They at last made eye contact. It was only under his scrutiny that she became self-conscious of the fact that she was in fact perspiring.

Curiously, Lance now appeared he was taken over by a similar illness. "Oh," He squeaked out. "S-sorry, Pidge. I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. From now on, it's all shirt, all the time." He concluded the joke with a nervous smile.

Suddenly, the possibility of never seeing Lance's stomach again mortified her.


Pidge was certainly not what one would call anti-social, but she also deeply valued personal space. Her room was like her fortress that protected her from the tendrils of the negative aspects of life. Here, she was free to do as she pleased. She could listen to music, work on her tech, and lament over Lance totally ignoring her in peace. One wouldn't think of her as the type to brood over a guy she liked, but that itself was sort of the problem. No one ever saw her as the type who would like a guy. It betrayed her persona to an extent, but what was so wrong with her harboring feelings for Lance? The others didn't give him credit, but he had a great deal of positive qualities; he was sweet, funny, far smarter than even he would admit, and, yes, exceptionally handsome.

Whatever. It didn't matter. She would take a nap and find something to take her mind off of things aft-

Knockknockknock "Pidge?"

There was no point in kicking this can down the road. She came to realize that Allura's persistence was endless, particularly when it came to this, for whatever bizarre reason.

"Yeah."

Allura and her brilliant smile swiftly made their way right up to the side of Pidge's bed. "Permit me to preemptively inform you that I require no thanks for the theft of Lance's clothing."

Pidge could only shrug. "Yeah."

The Princess arched an eyebrow. "It was my understanding you enjoyed it greatly when Lance removed his clothing. If I recall correctly, the precise verbiage you employed was 'hotter than a blue star in a furnace'. If you would prefer, I can steal his pants next ti-"

"No!" Pidge was grateful Coran wasn't around at present, as even the thought of Allura going ahead with such a plan of action gave her the most debilitating case of The Slipperies yet experienced by an organic lifeform. "I appreciate everything you've done, but I think it would be great if you just forgot all about this. Lance certainly has."

"I don't understand. You are seemingly implying that Lance is not attracted to you."

"I had to tell him that I was a girl." She wasn't sure if Lance was that thick-headed or she really was that unattractive, but after that disaster, Pidge concluded that the only way she could get Lance to consider her as a potential partner was thrusting her boobs directly in his gormless face.

That oh-so punchable smile reemerged. "I believe you will be quite pleased with a conversation I had with Lance earlier…"


"Lance! You will be quite pleased to hear I have located your lost shirt!" Following his chance encounter with Pidge and Corran, Allura mercifully handed Lance his shirt.

"Ah, you're the best, Princess," The compliment was muffled as Lance's head manoeuvred through the maze. "I know the ladies of the galaxy will be upset, but we've gotta have manners."

The time to strike arrived. "I assume Pidge is included among them."

The mere mention of Pidge clearly sapped a portion of his boisterous confidence. "Guh, well, actually, I don't think she was too happy with me walking around like that. Kinda why I'll be on my best behavior from now on."

She couldn't help but smile wickedly at her gentle deception. It was amazing how the two failed so spectacularly at deducing what everyone else already knew. "I was informed by Coran that your stomach gave Pidge a dreadful case of The Slipperies. Would you not consider that a good thing?"

As she hoped, the path of the conversation was clearly flustering Lance. "Why would I want to do that? I really like Pidge, and I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to he-" He instantly slammed his hands against his mouth to silence himself.


Pidge's heart grinded to a halt as her brain attempted to comprehend the information presented before her. "He...he really said that?" She still couldn't quite believe the words that just exited her form. "He likes me?"

Allura nodded. "And, as you requested, I will now forget about this. Given all the information you now know for certain, I firmly believe you have the courage and strength to confront Lance with your feelings."

She was indeed certain of her plan of action. "After a nap."


After an extensive nap followed by a brief search, Pidge found her target, staring into the vastness of space. The culmination of months of mental and emotional turmoil and preparation would soon come to past. Assuming Allura wasn't attempting to maliciously deceive her, Lance would be receptive to the prospect of her proffering her affection, but even that rock-solid logic coupled with her proclivity for empirical research did very little to quench the anxiety that made her stomach dance. She couldn't even figure out how to open up the conversation. Make some glib remark regarding his perceived lack of social graces? Pretend she just so happen to stumble upon him by happenstance? Scream her feelings to the void of eternal darkn-

"Pidge!" Lance was startled beyond belief by her sudden appearance. "What, uh, what's up with you?"