Hunk and Lance are both in their dorm sitting side by side. They have Hunk's phone between them and a plastic cup in hand. They just got back from sneaking into a nearby convenience store, buying vanilla ice cream, cups, and a twelve pack of pop.

"What's up 'Ro?" Lance asks after he dips his spoon into his ice cream.

"Nothing much, you two?" Cicero replies, his voice echoing from being on speaker.

"We both know that can mean anything." Hunk says

"Fine. Nothing major. Lou and Jose got into a fight down the cul-de-sac. Something about pranking the Jenkins family by leaving chalk messages on their driveway. Honestly Lou was so proud of her pictures that she thought the two of them could confuse the family by drawing the exact picture a few houses down." Cicero snorts, "Your brother thought it was genius. They just got yelled at by our moms, saying that they shouldn't play at other people's houses. 'Course she thought that they got in trouble because Jose was slow, but hey could be any of them."

Lance smiles. It definitely sounds like Lou, the girl thinks that something harmless is pranking, and that everyone on his side of the family made it a game to either corrupt her or keep her innocent. Personally, he thinks that Cicero's sister knows what she's doing.

"What about you guys? Off to a fancy shmancy space school, like holy crow I should have come with."

"I don't think so. You would have encouraged this one to sneak out more." Hunk pokes Lance's cheek, said teen puffs them out in retaliation.

"Hey I would have thought this place had better food, and we're like the only building out in this desert. Of course we are going to find the nearest town and hit it up. Maybe go to a club or go to the pool in the summer, I want to see some chicks, not these segregated swimming areas." Lance complains after shoveling a spoonful of ice cream and pop.

"And I want to stop sneaking out so I can sleep at a reasonable hour." Hunk confesses as he sighs.

Lance throws his arm around his friend's neck, "Hey, you got to admit, you love it."

Hunk rolls his eyes.

"Aw look at you two, having a bonding moment. Wish we can sneak out all together again, it'll be just like old times…I can't really see that, but I'll assume that it's so sweet that I want to vomit." Cicero fakes a gag noise as the two laugh at his ridiculousness.

"Yes, Hunk here is embracing me as I sit on his lap. He spoon feeds me like a servant does to his prince, and we are making out every two seconds," Lance says with a falsetto as he bats his eyelashes at his large friend.

"That doesn't sound like what normal people do." Hunk laughs.

"Yeah but that's what I wish my soulmate would do." Lance remarks before clamping his jaw tight.

Shit. He wasn't supposed to say that with Cicero. He and Hunk literally had a feelings jam a few minutes prior to calling their friend.

"Don't we all." Cicero laughs. "Doubt that I would want to do that with mine, but I have you guys to do some crazy shit."

"Hey what I do is tame, and I don't want a part of your little 'adventures.'" Hunk states as he gazes at Lance. He half hugs his buddy, and it would have been better if his arm wasn't currently around the other's neck.

The tall brunet looks over at Hunk's right forearm, and his friend happily shows it to him. He can't read the words, they look more like symbols, but it's nice to look at the yellow brown color. He sighs before sliding his arm back down to his side.

"That's true, but who would patch us up when we're being stupid?" Cicero inquires.

"Hey! Reckless not stupid. We literally tested all of the laws of physics." Lance inputs as he gets another spoonful of his treat. Hunk raises his eyebrow, "Correction. Almost all of them." He rectified his statement as Hunk nods.

"True that. Anyway, I should be going. Got an essay to write, and I don't want you guys to sleep in before someone wakes you up army style. I'll tell the folks you two said hi." Cicero said.

"Bye." Hunk and Lance said.

"Bye. You two better tell me about your infamous embarrassments later."

"Hey," Lance said before the call ended. "Rude," he mutters before looking at Hunk, "let's finish this up, and watch the old movie about Apollo 13."


Textbooks are stacked beside him in the library, towering over his head in two separate stacks. There were multiple books for some subjects such as biology, physics, first aid procedures, flight maneuvers, geometric, calculus, rules for syntax, and melee weapon cleaning. Needless to say, Lance is fully prepared for anything later in the year that his instructors may throw at him.

He just doesn't have the energy to actually open one up and start to read it. The teen sighs, it may be Day 2 after he declared his rivalry, but this is going to take a lot of work. He's tired from just looking at these piles of books.

Studying to be number one is going to be a struggle.

Lance gives a side glare at the devilish textbooks. Maybe he should just be number one for the flight simulators, and flight theory. Basically anything that is the core of the piloting program, and not the core of high school education. He nods at the thought and reorganizes the books on the table, everything not essential to his program to the right, important to the left.

He's not going to lie, his eyes watered a bit when he had only four books to deal with and not the other twenty-three. He placed the books on the cart, making five trips all the while the librarian staring at him with half lidded eyes. He can feel her eyes on him as he makes his way back to his table, and she continues to stare at him. God he's so uncomfortable, and he shifts in his seat before taking the books to the circulation desk. The woman continues to stare at him, rarely blinking, she doesn't even greet him or make small talk like the other librarian who is on her break. He hands her his id and she scans the books. He takes his things and leaves the torturous tomb of archaic books with her all-seeing guardian.

Lance actually shivers when he steps out of the room, and put as much distance between himself and the place. He needed to leave anyway, having to go to his next class, which is flight theory. He finds it strange for it to happen right after testing out the simulations, or just doing exercises the first half of the block before getting into the simulators. He can go pester Iverson about his score the other day, find out when the next placement test is. That way he can be prepared.

He checks the clocks on the hallway, and its thirty after noon. He has half an hour to kill until the next session, he could grab a bite to eat, can't forgo meals is one of Hunk's many mottos he lives by. The others are, "make time for yourself," and "don't do anything that could cause you to panic." He tweaked the last one, "don't get caught so don't panic," quite clever on his part.

Lance jogs to Iverson's office, and it is quite big in comparison to the other instructors since he is the head honcho in the Garrison. A couple of times he received his demerits with the man, but he managed to use the old McClain charm to knock down the first few. He still had to report to the man even if he managed to weasel his way out from the other instructors, a punishment instead of having a mark permanently on his record. He's just a first year, he cannot start off with such a bad rep, and his parents will know that he was there. His mama can give a tongue lashing and his papa will be so disappointed.

The cadet knocks on Iverson's door, his shoulders squared back, and he gives a proper salute.

If he is going to sway anyone he has to get on their good side. Iverson is known to be a strict instructor.

"Come in," the instructor said in a bellowing voice and the door opened.

Lance steps in, lowers his arm, and says, "Commander, I would like to talk about the other day's results, sir."

"Speak Cadet McClain, I don't have time here." Instructor Iverson tersely states as he keeps his eye on his paperwork.

"I was wondering sir when the next placement test is, sir." Lance said, being direct as possible, but trying not to be demanding.

He does not like being here. Iverson knows his name from the other times he came here to receive punishment, and whenever he called him out in class. He is sweating at the nape of his neck, he does not do confrontations with a senior officer with semi demanding tone. The last time that happened, he had to suffer through a humiliating conversation in front of the rest of his classmates. God he hates Instructor Kyle's guts for that.

"Hoping to get into the fighter class eh," Iverson said, finally glancing up.

"Yes sir."

"Too bad. Placements are annual so it looks like you have to wait." Iverson gives him a condescending smile, "Statistically those who are cargo class pilots rarely make it to fighter."

Lance's fingers twitch, but he refuses to clench them into fists. "Is there any way to take the test early?" He inquires. "Sir," he says as an afterthought.

"Why do you want to do that cadet." He phrases it as a sentence rather than a question.

"I want to beat Keith sir!" He firmly states his reasoning.

Instructor Iverson barks aloud. "Cadet Kogane? Cadet, you say the darnest things. He is way above your skill level, now if you said Cadet Dauphin that is a thinner skill gap."

Lance's face feels hot and he clenches his jaw momentarily before releasing it. He just needs to calm down, and get through with this.

"Now if that is all, get out of my office. I will see you and the rest of the cadets at one hundred hours."

With that Lance leaves. He walks straight to the canteen fuming, purchases an apple, and walks to flight theory. The door is open, and he tears into the remainder of his apple before disposing it in the reciprocal. He takes his seat in the middle, and glowers at the back of his rival's head, who is a row ahead of him and to his left.

God he really hates Keith's guts.

If you want people to leave you alone or show that you don't like them, make direct eye contact while saying nothing. Creepy but efficient.