No, no, no, no, no…

Pidge knelt beside her dresser, frantically dumping the contents of its drawers onto the floor. She didn't have all that many clothes, but out of necessity they'd had the aliens at this one coalition planet make them a few spares. The paladins had had to spend several hours in their armor while the Daminarini examined and measured their clothes—and then, because apparently their new allies were extremely literal, they got exact duplicates of said clothes.

Go figure.

But, okay, they hadn't been exact duplicates. Pidge could tell which were her original clothes by texture, little snags and idiosyncrasies here and there… and sure, they all looked the same, but she still preferred her old clothes. It sort of felt like wearing a little piece of home.

But at the moment, that was the problem. Because her sock was missing.

Not one of the alien-made replacements. She couldn't care less about those. But only one half of the genuine article had been there when she'd opened her drawer to get dressed this morning, and there was no way she was going to let this stand.

Drawers emptied. No sock. She sat back on her heels, glaring at the clothing mixed into the piles of gadgetry she'd dumped on the floor in the course of her search. Think. Okay. She'd had it yesterday, she'd taken it off, and—

Lance.

The blue paladin had visited her room as she was getting ready for bed the night before to see if she wanted to play a video game. She'd been tempted, but had ultimately declined on the grounds of the late hour and the training regimen the team had planned for the next day. He'd only been in there a couple minutes, but he'd picked up several things from her piles, she remembered. Mostly just looking them over, but…

I think I'd taken my socks off. What if he—?

Lance, pass up the opportunity for a prank? Yeah. It fit.

If you took my sock, Lance, you are going to regret it.

She leaped up and stormed out the door, grabbing her lone sock on the way out. The castle floor was chilly under her bare feet as she headed for the kitchen. Green sensed her fury from the bay and reached out, questioning. Pidge shook her head. "No, it's not something you need to worry about. It's just someone being irritating."

The Lion withdrew, satisfied, leaving only a feeling that translated as don't do anything too crazy.

Well. Guess we'll have to see about that.

For all their sleek tech-ness, sliding doors sometimes just didn't cut it. For example, they didn't allow you to slam them back for dramatic effect when you were in a temper. Pidge settled for the next best option, folding her arms and fixing her face in a dark glower as the door to the kitchen slid open and afforded her a view inside.

Breakfast at the Castle was usually a relaxed affair. Nobody bothered going to the formal dining hall, and although Hunk often prepared something to serve everyone came and went as their morning routine permitted. At the moment everyone except Keith was gathered around the island, apparently in the middle of a funny story courtesy of their resident chef. The conversation stopped, however, as the green paladin stalked toward Lance with menacing purpose. The tall boy saw her coming and tried for a grin. "Morning, Pidge, how're—"

"Where. Is. My. Sock."

Lance blinked. "Uh… what?"

"My sock." Pidge leaned forward with narrowed eyes and jabbed him in the chest. "You were in my room last night, and now it's gone. I want it back."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Lance held up his hands. "I never touched your sock!"

"Well, it's gone, and you were the last one around it besides me!"

"I didn't take your sock!"

"Oh really? You think it's funny?"

"Seriously, Pidge, it wasn't me!" Lance put his hands on his hips and glared back. "Why would I take your sock anyway?"

"I don't know, a joke? You hid Keith's jacket before!"

"That was different, it's Keith! And what's the big deal, anyway? I thought you had plenty of socks."

"I've got the ones the Daminarini made, but this is the real one! I want it back!"

"Okay, sure, fine, except I can't give it back, because I didn't take it." The blue paladin leaned in to glare almost nose to nose with his teammate. Pidge stuck out her chin, and shoved him.

"Nobody else came in last night, so you—"

"Guys!"

The two paladins jumped and turned, a bit guiltily, toward Shiro. The older man frowned at them over his plate of space eggs. "Bickering like that won't solve anything. Pidge, I understand you want your sock back, but yelling at people isn't going to help. Now, where was the last place you had it?"

"My room!" Pidge snapped, ducking her head. "It's not like I undress anywhere else!"

"Wait, didn't you take your shoes off in the lounge last night?" Hunk chipped in. "I remember you had your legs crossed but you said your shoes were uncomfortable."

Pidge opened her mouth to contradict him—and then closed it. "Oh. Um… yeah. I did. I… I guess I took my socks off, too."

"See?" Lance flung up his hands. "I didn't take your stupid sock!"

Shiro raised a warning eyebrow. "Lance…"

"Sorry." The blue paladin folded his arms, looking belligerent but chastened. "I didn't mean to snap. Just… don't go around accusing people of stuff and yelling at them, okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry." Pidge frowned, looking into memory. I was sitting on the couch, and Coran was telling us about that thing at the academy, and the boots were pinching… "I just… I really want to find that sock."

"Why is this sock so important?" Allura inquired. She hadn't done her hair yet, and it fell like a confused white cloud over her shoulders and nightgown. She kept having to push a few strands out of the way in order to take bites of her breakfast. "I thought the Daminarini made you several pairs."

"They did, but this is the original one. It…" Pidge swallowed. "It was a gift from Matt, the Christmas before he left for Kerberos."

"Well, why didn't you tell us that in the first place?" Lance snagged her shoulder and headed for the door, making her stumble as she tried to keep up with his long legs. "Come on, let's go look for it!"

They went straight to the lounge and began a top-to-bottom search, lifting cushions and peering into cracks. The others gradually drifted in and joined them, and if she hadn't been so focused on finding her missing sock Pidge probably would have laughed at the sight—an alien princess, her assistant, and the five pilots of the most powerful warrior in the universe all on their hands and knees, looking under furniture and behind panels on a quest for an unimportant piece of clothing. Keith, who'd wandered in from the training room, finally sat back and ran frustrated fingers through his hair. "If this wasn't the last place you remembered it I'd swear it wasn't here. We've must have looked everywhere. Maybe you took it off in your Lion's bay or something? You were down there most of yesterday."

"No, I always keep my shoes on there in case I need to climb up to check something." Pidge chewed her lip and surveyed the room, the couch cushions now in disarray. "Maybe one of the mice took it?"

"I can ask them." Allura's eyes went distant for a moment. Then she shook her head. "They haven't seen it, but they're coming here to help look." She slanted a glance at Pidge. "What does it look like, exactly? That might help."

"Oh! Sorry!" Pidge reached into her pocket and pulled out the sock she did have. "Here's its match."

The others gathered around to see. Hunk's lips twitched. "Are those… pigeons?"

The sock was the sort that comes halfway up the shin so as to better hide under the tops of her shoes, with a dark grey heel and toe and a lighter grey body. The color was a bit faded from use, and the ball was by now rather threadbare, but the pattern was still obvious—a veritable flock of thread-made pigeons, flying and perching and preening from hem to toe. Pidge blinked a the bit of cloth in her hand and had to smile, just a little. "That was his nickname for me—I got my Garrison name from it. Used to drive me crazy, or at least I pretended it did. Mom and Dad always called me Katie, but…"

"Hey." Lance bumped her shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll find it."

In the end it was Shiro who spotted the missing sock. The black paladin was flat on his stomach, face squashed up against the base of the couch as he peered through one of the support panels, when he waved a hand at the others. "Hey, guys, I think I see it!"

They all crowded around, trying—and once or twice failing—not to step on their leader. Allura pressed an eye to a crack in the seat. "I can see it too!"

"Can anyone get a hand in there?" Lance asked, trying to squeeze in next to Shiro.

"I don't think so." The eldest paladin grunted as Lance's knee bumped his ear and pried himself up onto his elbows to look up at Allura, blinking as some of her wild mane of hair fell into his face. "I have no idea how it got jammed so far down there, but there's no way I can reach it. Maybe the mice…?"

"Good idea!"

The four little furred creatures squeezed their way under the couch. For retrieving a haphazardly dropped piece of clothing the removal took an impressively long time, and Hunk, Lance, and Allura all applauded when the mice finally reappeared with Pidge's sock in tow. Pidge gratefully picked up the bit of cloth and scratched behind the mice's ears, grinning at the circle of smiling faces around her. "Thanks guys. I really didn't want to lose that."

Coran twirled his mustache and winked cheekily at her. "Not a problem, Number Five! Just, you know…" He waved a hand. "Be a little more careful where you put things next time?"

Hunk pried himself up from his seat on the couch. "Well, I'm super glad Pidge has her sock back and all, so if you don't mind, I think I'm going to go have another round of breakfast. All that crawling around has me hungry again."

"Dude, you're always hungry!" Lance flashed Pidge a grin and hared after his big friend. "Though I wouldn't mind another waffle. If you're making them, anyway."

"So you're gonna mooch off me, huh?"

"No, I'm going to savor your amazing cooking. Tell him, Coran."

"As one chef to another, young paladin, I have to second Number Three. There is nothing quite like someone taking real delight in the fruit of your labors."

"Which is just a fancy way to say that you're gonna mooch my food."

"Is not!"

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really!"

"Well, I will make you waffles—"

"Whoo! Yes!"

"—but only because I don't want you ruining my waffle iron by burning stuff in it."

"That was one time!"

"You know," Shiro chuckled as he watched the green paladin happily pull on her matching socks, "I don't think you've had breakfast yet yourself."

Pidge blinked at him, then grinned sheepishly as her stomach rumbled. "Oh yeah, I haven't. Guess I just didn't notice."

"I only had a couple pieces of toast before training." Keith stretched his arms, wincing as his elbows popped. "How about we all go get some of Hunk's waffles?"

"Would that mean we're all…mooching?" Allura asked, looking between them all. "And what does that word really mean, anyway?"

Shiro laughed and held out a hand to help her off the couch. "It means pretty much exactly what Coran said. Just, you know, someone else does all the cooking, and then you eat it."

"How is that any different from any other meal?"

"Not sure. You'd have to ask Hunk about that one."

"So." Keith stood by the door, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Waffles?"

Pidge fell into step alongside her friends, her socked feet slipping a bit against the castle floor.

I don't think I'm going to put on shoes today.

"Yeah, I could go for that."

A/N: Written because I'm pretty sure socks have superpowers, and they use them to be super irritating.

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