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There were some things you could count on, aboard the Castle. Things like the kitchen always smelling of Hunk’s latest culinary adventure, or the Gladiator bot creating a new set of scratches in the training deck, or the mice popping up when you least expected them to. Chief among those things was knowing that you could find Pidge sitting in her self-proclaimed lab at odd hours of the night tinkering away at Altean tech or Galran schematics.
Sometimes she sat alone, dwarfed by the cavernous walls and reflective surfaces. But more and more often, now, she had company. She had been defensive at first, withdrawing further into herself and hiding behind her laptop, but as day after day went by and battle after battle was fought, Pidge felt herself relax around her teammates, let her shoulders lower and her fingers uncurl.
Sometimes it would be Hunk who joined her, and they would have competitions on who could design the most ridiculous robot in an hour (Hunk was the current champion, with a robot that did nothing except say “Get out” in gradually increasing volume whenever it detected a pun — testing that one had left the both of them giggling on the floor with tears streaming down their faces). Other times it would be Lance, and the two of them would play video games and try to out-sass each other (Pidge won more often than not), before Lance proclaimed the need for his beauty sleep and moonwalked away with finger guns. To be honest, Pidge wasn’t sure how her head didn’t hurt from the constant eyerolls. Shiro would drop by occasionally and chastise her for still being awake, but he at least had the decency to look embarrassed when she inevitably pointed out that he was just as awake. Eventually he’d settle down next to her and ask her to teach him some Altean or he would teach her some Japanese, and they’d laugh as they tried to maintain a semblance of a conversation in the unfamiliar languages.
Today it was Keith that dropped by, walking into the room with feather-light steps and sinking to the floor in one fluid movement once she gave him the okay to enter.
Keith was the quietest of her visitors, but she didn’t mind it. It was often welcome, actually, after a hectic day of saving the universe or planning to save the universe. The silence that stretched between them was comfortable, and Pidge was content to let it envelop her. From the periphery of her vision, she saw Keith pull out his luxite blade and a whetstone. Pidge let a small smile dance on her lips as she watched him begin to sharpen his knife. Keith’s visits were special in another way, too — these were the rare moments where he seemed to let his guard down, if only a little, and allowed his body a rest from its constant state of fight-or-flight. Some nights she and Keith would trade conspiracy theories, or wax mock-philosophical to each other about the meaning of life and the state of the universe. But most nights with Keith were spent just like this: simply enjoying the presence of the other, the universe seeming completely quiet except for the gentle hum of the Castle, the rapid tapping of Pidge’s laptop, and the methodical ring of Keith’s blade.
They sat like this for about an hour, or long enough for Pidge’s foot to fall asleep. She gingerly set aside her laptop before uncrossing her legs and wiggling her toes until she could feel the pins and needles sensation recede. As she stretched her arms above her, she glanced at Keith and saw him scowling at a lock of hair that had fallen across his face. His brows were furrowed in deep concentration, and Pidge couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped at the sight.
Keith immediately turned to look at her, his scowl morphing into an angry pout. It would be adorable if “Keith” and “adorable” went in the same sentence. Sometimes Pidge wondered if his face ever got stuck that way. “Can I help you?” he asked, eyes challenging.
Pidge snorted. “No, I’m good, thanks. Can I help you, though? You looked like you were trying to burn a hole through your hair through sheer force of will.”
The other paladin huffed. “Thanks for noticing my futile attempts. It’s just getting a bit long, is all,” he responded, brushing the offending lock of hair behind his ear.
Pidge tilted her head to the side, considering. He was right; his hair reached well past his shoulders now. How long had they been in space? Pidge shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that. “You could cut it,” she offered instead.
At that, Keith grabbed more of his hair between his fingers and scrutinized it. One moment later and he has his knife against the strands.
Pidge spluttered. “Not right now! And not with a knife! Have you ever heard of scissors?” (Though, Pidge had to admit she was now a little curious how a haircut with knives would go, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.)
Keith lowered the knife a few inches and cocked an eyebrow at her. “What’s wrong with my knife? Besides, scissors are basically just two knives glued together.” Before Pidge could retort, he raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll cut my hair later.” Pidge crossed her arms. “Fine, with scissors.” Pidge nodded, though she wasn’t completely sure he would keep that promise.
Without thinking, she added, “If it’s bothering you, you could tie it up or braid it or something. That’s what I used to do.”
“Really?” Now it was Keith’s turn to tilt his head at her. She got the sense that he was trying to picture her with long hair and she flushed.
“Yeah, it used to go down to my waist.” Pidge reached up to run her fingers through what remained of her hair. “It got in the way a lot, and wow was it a pain to wash and dry, but... I loved it.” A wistful smile tugged at her lips.
“Do you miss it?”
Pidge looked down and played with the hem of her shirt. “Yeah, sometimes. Cutting it off was hard. Really hard. This is... this is going to sound silly, but it kind of made me feel like a princess, you know? All the princesses in the movies I watched when I was growing up had long, beautiful hair, and I guess I wanted to, too.” And my dad — he would call me his little princess. She bit her lip, trying to push the memory away, trying to not think of her dad twirling her around the room singing old Disney songs—
“I don’t think that sounds silly.”
Pidge jumped a little at his words. Keith was staring at her in that intense way of his, like he was looking right through her. She noted that he had put away the luxite blade and had scooted a little closer, only two arms length away now instead of three. He rested a chin on his fist, blowing away a stray strand of hair. “Why don’t you grow out your hair again?”
A smirk formed. “Long hair isn’t the most practical thing when you’re constantly fighting aliens and piloting giant robot lions. Well, I guess there’s Allura, but she’s a literal kickass alien space princess, so she doesn’t count.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s just easier for me to keep it short. And it reminds me of—” Pidge stopped herself in her tracks, feeling the smirk drop. The memory of her dad barreled back, and her brother was there too, now, laughter on the tip of his tongue. She could almost hear it—
Pidge clenched the fabric of her shirt tighter between her fingers. The room felt several degrees colder, and the abrupt change in the atmosphere was almost electric. Even the silence felt charged, coursing through her veins.
“You don’t have to say anything,” came Keith’s voice, cutting through the static. His tone was gentler than she had ever heard before. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” Pidge took a deep breath, trying to find her center, trying to slowly release her iron grip on her shirt. “I was just going to say— having short hair. It... it reminds me of Matt.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, Keith was listening patiently. He would wait however long it took for her to compose herself, she knew. He would leave and drop the subject entirely if she gave the signal. For some reason, knowing she could stop talking made her not want to. She took another deep breath and hugged her knees before continuing.
“Matt and I are only a few years apart. Back before I grew my hair out, people would mix us up all the time if they didn’t take a close enough look. We’d play pranks on people because of that, sometimes. Could never fool Mom and Dad, though.” Pidge let out a low laugh at the memory, before biting her lip again. “When... when I look in the mirror, it’s almost like I’m seeing him instead. I can imagine it’s him waving to me. And he’s alive and safe and just a foot away. And— it’s nice, you know, for a little moment. I feel closer to him.” Suddenly her voice seemed too loud; It bounced back at her through the quiet of the night and echoed in her ears. Her breathing hitched and she curled her toes. She snuck a glance at Keith and saw him with one hand hanging hesitantly in the air, almost like he wanted to reach out to her but didn’t know how. She couldn’t read his expression very well — frustration, maybe? Sadness? Anger?
Regardless, she took another breath and straightened her back. “Anyway,” she said hastily, clearing her throat and eager to change the subject. The quiet was suffocating now. Her words hung heavy in the air, suspended and trapped. She couldn't bear the silence, even for a few moments, had to break it, had to keep it from pushing down on her. “I was serious earlier. About tying up your hair or braiding it.” Keith didn’t respond, so she rambled on. “It gets it out of the way, and braiding it is actually really fun. I used to braid my own hair all the time. My hair is too short now to do anything fancy with it, but yours is a decent length.”
There were several more beats of silence, save the Castle’s ever-present humming, and Pidge began to fidget again. Goosebumps were creeping up her skin. And then, so quietly she almost missed it: “Do you want to braid my hair?”
“What?” Pidge mentally slapped herself when she saw Keith flinch. She hadn’t meant to sound so incredulous.
“Never mind,” Keith said, already turning his head away to hide the rising blush. His whole body tensed and he looked ready to get up and leave at any moment. “Sorry. You were just talking about how much you used to like braiding hair, so I thought— never mind. Sorry.”
She knew he was just trying to help, that this was his way of saying it’s okay, Pidge, we’ll find your family, and the thought brought a whisper of a smile to her face. She shifted a little closer to him. “That actually sounds really nice,” she said softly. “Could I?”
Keith looked back at her, surprise evident on his face. There was a brief pause before he gave her a jerky nod and closed the distance to sit next to her. Pidge grabbed a nearby crate, pulled it behind Keith, and scrambled to sit on top. Keith settled against the box hesitantly; his head came up to her chest now, and Pidge could trace the controlled breaths that he was taking. Her fingers stopped a few inches from his hair, uncertain. It occurred to her that this was possibly the closest she had ever been to Keith in a non-battle setting. “Are you sure this is okay?” she asked.
Keith nodded, and Pidge watched the tufts of his hair bob with the motion. “Yeah. I trust you, Pidge.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice.
She smiled back, even though she knew he couldn’t see it.
She began braiding a small section of his hair and marveled at how soft it was. She worked slowly, but could feel the muscle memory returning to her as she continued. Layer by layer, she teased apart his curls and twisted them back together. She could feel the tension dissolving bit by bit from her body and her movements becoming steadier. She could feel Keith relax too, his shoulders dropping and leaning farther back.
Silence reigned again, once again comfortable and welcome. It was no longer charged or smothering; it was simply quiet. The familiarity of it draped over the two of them like a blanket. Pidge continued working, her fingers deftly weaving the hair into delicate patterns, letting the stillness seep deep into her bones. Her movements were methodical, calming. At last, when there was no more hair to braid, she smoothed it all down with one hand and got up to admire her handiwork. “Okay, I’m done. What do you think?”
When no response came, she walked around to stand in front of the other paladin. She held back a laugh when she found him sleeping, eyes shut tight and head tilting slightly to the side. Careful not to wake him, Pidge went to the closet in one corner of the room and emerged with a thick quilt. She’d fallen asleep enough times in this room to keep bedding nearby, especially after realizing how cold it could get. After tucking Keith in, she bustled around the room, putting away her stuff for the night and feeling her own eyes begin to droop. She winced when one of the cabinet hinges creaked, but a glance at Keith showed that he was still fast asleep.
Done putting stuff away and ready to go back to her room to sleep, she lingered in the doorway with a yawn, watching Keith’s sleeping form.
One second. Two seconds. Three.
She huffed.
Pidge walked back to where Keith was slouched on the floor, hair now carefully braided and pulled away from his face. With some maneuvering, she put another crate next to the one Keith was leaning on. She took off her glasses and put them on the ground, before lifting one corner of the blanket and sliding herself under them. Leaning slightly against the new crate and wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, she curled into Keith’s side and rest her head on his shoulder.
She let the gentle hum of the Castle and the rhythm of Keith’s breathing lull her to sleep.