Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Literal years (by anyone's counting) spent on a castle flying through space with, at any given time, only the same six people – at least on average – meant that you learned an awful lot about each person's habits and history, assuming they were willing to talk.

But every once in awhile, Lance learned something about one of his teammates – his family by circumstance if not by choice or by blood – that he hadn't known before.

"You...wanted to be a fighter pilot ?" Lance said, stunned.

"Yes," Pidge said, tone terse. She'd been on a call with her brother, acting as a liaison to coordinate efforts between Voltron and Matt's faction of rebels, but when Lance wandered into the Green Lion's hangar to ask her if she wanted to spar with him, their conversation had taken a turn away from professional.

Now Pidge faced Lance, sitting on her desk as she waited for him to get to the point. But his previous reason for visiting fled his mind at this new revelation.

"You?" Lance said, pointing at her. " Always wanted to be a pilot ?"

Pidge crossed her arms. "Didn't anyone ever teach you not to spy on people?"

"Pidge, all you do is spy on people," Lance retorted, mirroring her posture.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, glasses slipping up into her hair. "Fine, you got me," she grumbled. "I've wanted to be a pilot since I was...six or seven." She swung her legs, still too short for her toes to even brush the floor when she sat on the desk like that. "I even read all of the Garrison's flight manuals before applying."

Lance grinned and leaned on the desk beside her. "So you had to settle for second best then, huh?" he said, snatching her glasses away, carefully so her hair didn't get tangled in the frames.

Surprisingly, Pidge didn't stop him from taking them, but she shot him a confused glance. "Second best?" she asked.

"Yeah! You were a comms officer instead. Don't tell Hunk I said that, by the way." He chuckled, elbowing her in the side to show he was joking.

Pidge just raised an eyebrow at him. "Lance, I didn't settle for comms officer," she pointed out. "I would've applied for the pilot program if not for my family disappearing."

"Wait, really?" Lance brandished her glasses at her. "What about these?"

"What about them?"

"You have to have perfect vision to get into the pilot program," Lance said, prodding the side of his face with her frames. He smirked. "I ate plenty of carrots just to make sure."

"Carrots don't help," Pidge corrected reflexively. "That was just a myth perpetuated by--" She shook her head, cutting herself off. "Never mind, but there's nothing wrong with my vision, Lance."

"Uh, Pidge?" Lance said, poking her in the cheek with her frames. "These are yours."

Pidge laughed and nudged him with her shoulder. "Put them on."

Lance, wondering what he was getting himself into, did as she suggested. And sure enough, he could see... Just what he could normally, like he was peering through a small window of thin glass. "What," he muttered, all his assumptions about Pidge turned on their heads. Again.

"First you're a girl," Lance said, his fingers still pinching the frames and holding them to his face, "and now you have twenty-twenty vision?"

"I'm sorry?" Pidge said, not sounding apologetic at all. Instead she laughed again and hopped down from the desk. "If it makes you feel better, I am a little nearsighted now – I should probably ask Allura for something corrective – but I wasn't when this all started."

"I've been cheated," Lance said. He took the glasses off and returned them to Pidge. "All this time, you've been wearing them as an aesthetic ?"

"It was a disguise," Pidge said, shrugging. But rather than putting them back on like he expected, she tucked them into a desk drawer. "It still is, sometimes." Her voice was quiet when she said that, and Lance didn't know what she meant; it didn't feel right to ask, at least not yet.

"So what you're saying is," Lance mused, tapping his chin, "that if your family hadn't disappeared, I would've had to compete with Keith and you for a fighter pilot position?"

Pidge grinned at him. "Can't say I'm sorry about that ," she quipped, "especially since it never happened." Then she smacked his thigh, and when he jumped, startled, she said, "Get up. I was in the middle of something when you got here."

Lance grumbled but stood, stepping away. "Yeah, a call that you ended," he pointed out.

She sighed and turned to face him again. "What did you want then?" she asked. "It wasn't just to ask about my eyesight, right?"

"Nope. Want to spar with me?" He pointed to the hangar exit behind him.

Pidge looked from his face to the direction he pointed. "Why can't you ask Keith or Shiro? Or Allura?"

"Pidge, if I wanted someone to kick my ass, I would've."

She frowned at him, clearly unimpressed. "Are you trying to imply I can't kick your ass?" she demanded.

Lance put his hands up defensively. "Of course not," he said. "See, weirdly, you're better at hand-to-hand combat than I am."

" Weirdly ?"

"Poor word choice," Lance decided, "but we're better matched than I am with anyone else."

"And Hunk?"

Lance laughed. "He could sit on me and I wouldn't be able to do a thing." He deflated and added, "Also I already asked and he said no."

"You mean I'm your second choice?" Pidge said, tone gently teasing and hand to her chest. "I'm wounded."

"Fine, I get it," Lance said, turning to leave. "I'll just use the gladiators, though they can't give me pointers, and only really follow set algorithms..." He took one step towards the exit, then another, and another, and--

"Fine," Pidge said, her footsteps sounding behind him until she overtook him. "I'm coming."

Lance, triumphant, flashed her a grin as he followed.

It wasn't that Lance had never seen Pidge without her glasses, so the sight of her face now, without anything indicating visual impairment, should not have bothered him as much as it did.

Why did it bother him at all?

Pidge had tied her hair in a high bun, but a few strands escaped to brush her face. A face that, until now, Lance never really got a good look at since she always wore either glasses or a helmet. No, he'd never really noticed how big her brown eyes were, or the small bump on the bridge of her nose, or that maybe she actually did look her age and the round frames she usually wore shrunk her...

Pidge interrupted Lance's musing with a sound kick to the side. When Lance crumpled to the ground, groaning, Pidge looked down at him, hands on her hips. "For someone who wanted to spar, you're not really into it," she said.

Lance rubbed his side; it hadn't hurt so much as it shocked him. "I...got distracted," he mumbled.

"By...?"

Your face, he thought, frowning. Incidentally, once upon a time, your face might've been an acceptable, if immature, comeback. He struggled to his feet, trying to think of a less truthful response, but:

"If you don't want to spar after all, then how about you help me with my shooting?" Pidge suggested, bayard materializing in her hand.

"Sure," Lance agreed easily. If she wasn't going to press it, he wouldn't enlighten her.

In the last year or so, everyone collectively agreed – that is, Shiro and Allura strong-armed them into it – that learning some form of combat beyond their usual would make them more flexible in battle, even if they never became experts. Which meant that Lance tried his hand at close combat – hence the sparring – while Pidge learned to handle a gun.

Pidge called out to the training program for an exercise in shooting moving targets, her bayard morphing into a handgun. Lance summoned his own bayard, prepared to cover Pidge if she wanted it, but she proved not to need him, easily passing the first level on her own, her blasts hitting the drones near, if not quite at, the center.

So Lance, for lack of anything better to do, watched her. She alternated between dodging and shooting, and she almost always brought down the drones with a single shot. Between the seven of them living aboard the Castle, she had the best aim after Lance. She squinted when she aimed though, bringing to mind her almost idle comment earlier about her real nearsightedness.

She ended the simulation after completing the second level, groaning when the system informed them that she was a mere fifteen tics from beating Lance's high score.

Lance, leaning against the wall, chuckled. "Still convinced I'm not the sharpshooter?" he asked her, smirking.

Pidge glared over her shoulder at him. "Oh, you're something, all right." Her bayard shifted into its usual electrified grapple shape, and Lance stiffened, half-worried she would zap him.

She seemed to be contemplating it from the way her eyes drifted from her bayard to him. She smirked, but dismissed the bayard.

Lance slumped, relaxing.

Pidge wiped sweat from her forehead. "Why am I still wearing this?" she asked no one in particular, plucking at the collar of her sweater.

"You always complain the Castle is too cold," he pointed out.

"And now I'm too hot and soaked in my own sweat," Pidge complained. She reached for the hem and tugged it over her head in one smooth motion, revealing the black tank top she wore underneath.

Lance averted his eyes. Somehow, despite the lack of sunshine, freckles were scattered across her shoulders and upper arms. Her strong upper arms.

No one, not even Pidge, stayed scrawny defending the universe.

"Great, now I'm too hot too," Lance muttered.

"So," Pidge said, her bayard in her hand again, "your head clear for sparring?" She grinned at him, eyes bright and expectant, or, in a word, beautiful .

Quiznak.

Lance found Keith enjoying a rare moment of downtime in the common room, tablet in hand and probably reading a ten thousand-year-old Altean novel Allura recommended to him. Apparently, he was so absorbed in his book that he didn't even glance up when Lance stood in front of him.

"Got a minute?" he asked.

Keith didn't flinch, so maybe he had heard him. "Sure," he said, setting aside the tablet and giving Lance his full attention. "What's up?"

Lance crossed his arms, looking down at his one-time rival, who wore an expectant, if bemused, look. "You don't miss Earth, do you?" he finally wondered, sitting across from him.

Keith shrugged. "Not as much as the rest of you, I think," he admitted. "Everyone I have is in space."

Lance fought a grimace, uncomfortable at the admission, though Keith obviously was not. "So I take it you don't think much about...the Garrison?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Not at all. Why?"

Lance slumped further into his seat. "Pidge wanted to be a pilot," he said, not sure what else he wanted to say at the moment.

Keith nodded, slowly, but he frowned in confusion. "So what?"

"But when we were there, she wasn't," Lance explained, "but if not for her family's capture, she would've entered as a pilot."

"What's your point, Lance?" Keith said.

"I'm just wondering...would I have had to compete with you, and with her?" Lance smirked to show that he was joking. Mostly.

To his relief, Keith took it as such. "Oh, there would've been no contest," he said, grinning. "Pidge would've left both of us in her dust."

"I know, right? Smart, pretty, and a good pilot?" Lance snorted. "We wouldn't have stood a chance."

"Pretty, huh?" Keith said.

Lance's face heated up. He toyed with the hem of his shirt. It was frayed, and he'd have to either repair it or throw it out.

"Yes," Lance said, deciding to stick it out. "Pidge is... pretty ." Beautiful, intelligent, clever, strong in mind and in body... He frowned.

"So what's the real problem?" Keith wondered, leaning on the armrest, chin in hand.

Lance's mouth went dry. For once, he had no idea what he wanted to say, or how he wanted to say it. That he was attracted to Pidge? Was that even a problem ? He could handle an attraction; he'd learned to rein in his hormones sometime before his eighteenth birthday (though it didn't stop him from flirting every so often).

"Do you think Pidge is attractive?" Lance asked.

Keith shrugged. "Objectively," he said, crossing his arms, uncomfortable.

"Well, objectively , I think you've helped me as much as you can," Lance decided, standing.

"So that's the problem?" Keith said.

"I don't think so," Lance said, "but I'm pretty sure there is one."

Keith snorted. "Whatever it is, I hope you figure it out. We can't afford any distractions."

"Aye aye, Captain," he retorted, slipping out of the room.

What was his problem then?

The nice thing about traveling through space on a battleship that also doubled as a castle meant that you had a place to host parties , something that Allura did her best to take advantage of, wining and dining members and prospective members of their alliance.

Lance usually enjoyed the parties. He even looked forward to them, since it meant a break from the fighting they were still forced to do, when he could let loose and dance and even flirt a little.

For some reason though, he dreaded this one.

They touched down on Olkarion three quintants before the scheduled event, which allowed for almost more... relaxation time than Lance knew what to do with. He bothered Hunk and Keith in turn, and after an ill-fated attempt to bother Shiro – the poor guy was napping – Lance decided to seek out Pidge.

"You've been avoiding me," Pidge said, without greeting. She sat in the common room, messing with some kind of repair robot – a gift from Ryner. She narrowed her eyes when she spotted him, suspicious.

"Have I?" Lance said, smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck.

(He knew the answer to that.)

"You have," said Pidge. "You used to spend time with me more often, either begging me to spar with you or play a game or...anything, but I've only seen you at meals and meetings in the last week or so." She opened a panel on the robot in front of her to inspect its inner mechanisms. "Kind of a long time considering we're closer than neighbors."

Lance flushed. "Sorry," he said carefully. "I've just been...busy."

Pidge looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Really?" she said. "Because when I asked Hunk he said he still saw you like usual."

Absurdly, the fact that she bothered to ask Hunk about him brought a grin to his face. "Aw," he said, collapsing into the seat right beside her. "You do care, Pidge!" He ruffled her hair.

"Stop," she said, swatting his hand away. "I spent time on that this morning."

At her words, Lance inspected her a bit more closely. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and hadn't in the last week, but besides that... Yes, now that he paid attention he saw she was dressed nicer than usual, in pressed white pants and a loose green blouse that bared her freckled arms.

"So...hot date?" Lance teased, but it didn't stop something hot and unpleasant from curling in his gut.

It was even worse when Pidge's cheeks turned pink and she replied, "Sure, something like that."

The admission stunned Lance into silence, so he just sat there, his thoughts frantic and indecipherable. His hands curled into fists and he felt his lips twisting into a scowl. Jealousy, he thought. I'm jealous.

"What?" Pidge said, turning towards him more fully. "You're not gonna tease me?" She raised an expectant eyebrow at him.

"Sure, Pidge," Lance said, forcing a laugh. "Just don't stay out too late, right?" Unable to help himself, he reached forward and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and into her bun. When she pouted at him, he grinned. "So what's the Olkari's idea of a date anyway? Long nature walks? Building computers to make life easier?"

"Quality bonding time," Pidge said. "Like...humans." She shrugged. "They're not much different than us, really. Just more telepathic."

Lance chuckled at the mental image of a random Olkari man trying – and failing – to read Pidge's incomprehensible mind. "Well, have fun with your alien boyfriend." He stood up and walked to the door, allowing his face to slip back into a frown.

Behind him, Pidge quipped, "Here, we're the aliens."

"Right," he said, shooting a glance over his shoulder to see her smiling at him.

He left, wishing that the feeling of his heart being squeezed could be just as alien.

"Can you believe Pidge is on a date?" Lance asked Hunk.

"Like I told you the last five times you asked," Hunk said, sounding a touch exasperated, "yes, I can."

"I can't believe our little Pidge is growing up," said Lance. He sat up, balancing on his elbows and looking at Hunk, who held a puzzle in his hands. "Do you think her brother knows?"

"I'm sure they have more important things to talk about," Hunk said, his eyes still on the puzzle as he worked on untangling the interlocking pieces. "Like..." His gaze drifted to Lance. "Like the ongoing rebellion?"

"Right, right." Lance lay back again, staring at the ceiling. His whole body felt heavy, and not just because Olkarion had a greater gravitational pull than he was accustomed to. "Hey, Hunk?"

To his credit, Hunk didn't even sigh as he asked, "Yes, Lance?"

"What do you think of Pidge?"

Lance heard rattling as Hunk set aside the puzzle, apparently deciding to focus his full attention on their conversation. "What do you mean?" he said.

"I mean...do you think Pidge is..." Lance frowned, gesturing with his hands. "You know, good ."

"Well, she is a Paladin of Voltron," Hunk pointed out in his 'reasonable' voice. "Like you, like me, and Keith and Shiro. And Allura, sort of."

"Yes, but..." Lance sighed and sat up, crossing his legs. "Do you remember what I told you when Shiro and Allura announced their engagement?"

Hunk narrowed his eyes at him. "You said a lot of things," he said, "because you got drunk at the party. You couldn't walk without tripping over your own feet, and Keith and I had to help you to your room."

Lance waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, and I'm still grateful for that, but..." He rubbed his face, feeling it heat up already. "I swore I would never love again."

"Oh, that." Hunk grimaced. "I assumed you were being facetious."

"Oh, I was," Lance agreed, composing himself and dropping his hands into his lap. "But I did have a crush on Allura." In a slightly smaller voice, he added, "And on Shiro."

" Did ?" Hunk said, smirking.

"Yes, but...that wasn't a great feeling that night," Lance admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, Pidge wasn't too happy that night either."

"What?" Lance said, gaze snapping to Hunk.

Hunk shrugged. "I couldn't tell you why though," he said. "As far as I know, she didn't have feelings for either of them, unlike you. Honestly, I am surprised she's on a date tonight, since I don't think she's ever liked anyone except--" His eyes widened. "Never mind."

Lance leaned forward, eagerly. "What?" he pressed. "Who? Pidge likes someone?"

"No, forget I said anything," Hunk said.

"Hunk!" Lance said, getting to his feet and sitting on the sofa beside him. "Tell me."

"It's really none of my business," Hunk said, reaching for the discarded puzzle.

"Really?" Lance raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Hunk, you read her diary ."

"That was like four years ago, dude!" Hunk retorted. "And fine, so I know, but it's none of your business. Okay?" He glared fiercely at Lance.

Lance smiled ruefully. "Fine, you're right," he said. "You're a good friend, Hunk."

"If it was in both of your best interests to know, I would tell you." Hunk frowned. "Actually, I did suggest she tell."

Lance, still confused, decided to drop the topic, at least for now. He didn't want to add another person to the growing list of targets for his jealousy.

"So...you were saying about never loving again?" Hunk prompted him.

Lance slumped. "Yeah, joking or not, I feel that way again now."

"Because Pidge is on a date with someone that isn't you?"

"Because Pidge is on a date with someone that isn't me."

Hunk patted his shoulder and smiled. "It'll be all right, buddy," he promised. "You'll see."

"Yeah," Lance said, unable to believe it.

When Pidge returned to the Castle, she paid a visit to the common room, where everyone but Coran was spending a quiet evening.

Lance did his best not to glance up at her. He didn't really know how Olkari dating or courtship or whatever worked, despite his half-hearted joking with Pidge earlier, but he'd rather remain ignorant and avoid seeing anything even resembling a hickey.

"Hey," Pidge said to everyone.

"Hey," everyone but Lance chorused.

Finally, he couldn't resist any longer – how did Pidge's presence alone draw his eyes like a magnet? – and looked at her, to see she...looked no different from how he saw her earlier. She had not a single hair out of place, though her eyes drooped tiredly.

She smiled when they briefly made eye contact, and Lance's chest filled with a pleasant warmth.

He coughed and returned his attention to his knitting, ignoring Pidge's eyes still on him.

(Allura found out he could knit – though she hadn't known what it was until he and Hunk explained – and asked him to make sweaters for the mice, the Castle's equipment providing the machinery to design the needles and even weave yarn from Arusian wool.)

Hunk shot a sharp glance at him as Shiro asked Pidge, "How was your outing?"

"Outing?" Pidge said, looking over at him. "It was a date."

"All right," Shiro agreed, sounding just a bit terse. "How was your date ?"

Lance snickered, drawing both Hunk's and Keith's attention, but cut himself off when Pidge said, "It was good. I had fun."

"What did you do?" Allura wondered, sounding curious, unlike Shiro.

"He showed me around the capital," said Pidge. "Some of the improvements they've made in the last deca-phoeb." Her voice took on a dreamy quality when she added, "Everything is so sleek and elegant."

"Did you speak in binary?" Lance quipped, unable to help himself.

Pidge's gaze snapped to him. "Yes, yes we did," she said, tone dripping with sarcasm, crossing her arms.

"Well, I guess you didn't hear that the new language of love is binary," he added. His attention to the conversation cost his knitting, and he dropped a stitch and scowled.

Pidge snorted but didn't dignify him with a response, which was probably for the better considering Lance's souring mood.

"Did you eat anything interesting?" Hunk asked. Yes, leave it to Hunk to diffuse a tense situation with foodie talk .

She shrugged, sitting in the empty space between him and Shiro. "Nothing we didn't try last time we were on Olkarion," she said, but then she grinned. "But we did have some of those dumpling things again!"

"Ooh, did you get an ingredient list this time?" Hunk asked. Even Keith perked up with interest.

"Ah, no, I forgot," Pidge said, groaning. "I was a little distracted."

"I bet you were," Lance muttered snidely, quietly enough that only Hunk heard him, and from the look on his face he was not at all impressed.

Lance grew tired of the talk of Pidge's date, and even when it slipped into a discussion about the party in two more quintants, he claimed exhaustion and left for his room. After slipping into his pajamas and sitting in bed, his knitting still in hand – he had yet to recover the single dropped stitch – he considered.

Lance was self-aware enough to hate how jealousy made him lash out. But Pidge's Olkari boyfriend – the real target – wasn't available, so Pidge got the brunt of his irritation.

And Pidge didn't deserve that. And he didn't deserve her either.

Lance sighed and gave up on knitting for the night. He turned off the light and tried to go to sleep, but his brain was too wired, his mind still buzzing with unpleasant thoughts and the sort of insecurities that hadn't plagued him in months.

Chapter Text

Lance didn't see Pidge again before the actual party. No, in addition to deliberate avoidance – and pretending he didn't feel Pidge alternately smiling and glaring at him during breakfast – Allura decided to enlist him in assisting in the preparations, which included everything from making sure the centerpieces on the tables were at the, well, center , to supervising the Castle's cleaning systems in furnishing rarely used guest bedrooms and washrooms. Tiring though it was, it also served the purpose of distracting Lance from his new dilemma.

Everyone else was kept just as busy though. Hunk, a master of at least twenty alien cuisines, monopolized the kitchens, ruling them and the other cooks with an iron fist that would've impressed Zarkon himself. Keith performed the same tasks as Lance did, while Shiro and Pidge – who had the closest personal ties to the Olkari – showed their guests around.

When Coran, who supervised them all, finally dismissed them to ready themselves, Lance's bed looked awfully inviting, tempting him to take a power nap. Instead, he splashed cold water on his face and reminded himself that maybe – maybe , if she wasn't angry with him after his behavior two nights ago – he could ask Pidge to dance with him.

If she didn't spend the entire evening with her date .

Lance glared at his reflection. Why did he care? Pidge was a grown woman, she could do what she wanted. It had nothing to do with him.

Except every time he imagined Pidge with someone, his gut twisted miserably and his heart felt heavy.

Lance dressed quickly in his formal wear – an outfit that somehow managed to look like a cross between Coran's usual attire and an Earth tuxedo – and left his room after making sure he hadn't a single hair out of place. Sure, sometimes Allura bemoaned his lack of decorum, but at least he could look the part.

In the actual ballroom – what's a Castle without a ballroom, even if that Castle also doubles as a battleship? – guests were already trickling in when Lance arrived, tens of different cultures and races and species in their own finery. A small troupe of musicians with the strangest instruments Lance had ever seen were setting up in the corner on a stage, and Allura and Coran were greeting the guests as they arrived.

Lance tried slipping past them, only offering Allura a wave, but she thwarted him by pinching his ear and dragging him to the side. "Ouch," he said, though she wasn't using enough force to actually hurt him.

Allura didn't stop until they stood in a quiet corner of the large, and relatively unoccupied, chamber. When she finally let go of him, he saw she was dressed to the nines in a pale blue ballgown, her arms bare except for a pink wrap. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she was looking a little taller for the evening, though she might've just been wearing high heels.

And underneath her usual glittering tiara, she fixed him with a sharp gaze.

"Uh, what?" Lance asked, for lack of any spoken accusation.

"I won't have discord amongst my Paladins, Lance," Allura said, crossing her arms.

"Discord?" Lance said, rubbing the back of his neck. "What discord? We're as harmonious as ever! Keith and I haven't fought in...quintants."

Allura narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not speaking of you and Keith," she said. "I meant you and Pidge."

Lance blinked, then smiled. He reassured her, "Oh, that's nothing."

"Really?" Allura said, one perfect eyebrow raised skeptically. "Because I spoke with Pidge, and she's feeling quite neglected."

"Neglected?" He shook his head, despite the legitimacy of the accusation. "Look, Princess, it's really not a big deal."

"Are you sure?" Allura pressed, her eyes round with worry. "Because discord in the team aside, I am worried about the two of you. You've been distant from all of us since we arrived on Olkarion, and you hurt Pidge's feelings the other night."

Shame made Lance stiffen. Maybe she hurt my feelings too, he wanted to say, but he knew that this time, he was the one in the wrong. "I'll apologize to her then," he decided.

Allura rested a hand on his shoulder. "Good," she said, smiling. "I know you're unhappy that someone else is courting Pidge, but--"

"Wait, what?" Lance said, forcing himself to laugh. "Who said that's what I'm upset about?"

Her eyes sharpened, and her smile turned wry. "Really, Lance?" she said. "You're trying to deny that you're jealous?"

It was one thing to confess it to Hunk, his best friend since childhood, but an entirely different thing to admit it to Allura, his last major crush. "I'm not," Lance said, hesitating for too long.

"Lance, I know what your jealousy looks and sounds like," Allura said. She patted his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Really, you're not as subtle as you think you are."

Lance stared at her, stunned into silence. If it was obvious to Allura, then it would certainly be obvious to everyone else aboard the Castle...including Pidge.

Allura sighed. "Just try to enjoy yourself tonight," she told him. "And please make nice with Pidge. I can't stand to see any of you arguing."

"Right," Lance said, voice strained. "You too, Princess." He forced himself to smile as she left him to return her attention to the guests that still entered the ballroom.

The musicians on stage, done setting up, struck a lively tune that reminded Lance of the classical music his father liked listening to, but with less strings and more wind instruments. No one danced yet though – unless the two Cnidarians swaying in the center considered their motions dancing – so Lance walked around the edge of the room, searching for someone to talk to.

Usually, he could strike up a conversation with almost anyone, including complete – and alien – strangers. Finding common ground with someone that wasn't human was easy, at least when he was in the mood to socialize. For now, he preferred to find his friends.

Unfortunately, the first one he ran into was Slav, who looked odd and diminutive sitting at a table with a masked member of the Blade of Marmora. Slav explained something about the multiverse to the Blade, but then he caught sight of Lance before he could escape.

"Aha, Blue Paladin!" Slav waved to him. "I was just telling Nika about the chance of a ground tremor destroying the Castle here!"

Nika, the Blade, had their arms crossed over their chest; mask or not, Lance thought they looked wholly uninterested in Slav's conversation. But still, trapped, Lance approached, plastering a cautious smile to his face.

"That sounds...delightful," he told him.

Nika's face angled towards him, and they nodded a greeting.

(Honestly, compared to the majority of the Blade, Keith was chatty .)

"It's really not," said Slav. He picked up a cup of wine left at one of his many elbows and peered into it. "There is a sixteen percent chance that someone is trying to poison me."

"In...a different reality?" Lance wondered cautiously.

"No," Slav said mournfully.

"I can taste it for you," Lance offered. He needed a drink, never mind that he wasn't of legal drinking age according to Earth – or American – standards yet.

"No, that won't work," said Slav, "because there's a seventy-three percent chance that your physiology makes you immune to a poison to which I am still susceptible."

Sometimes, Lance hated his life.

"Oh!" Lance said, glancing up and waving across the room at no one. "I think I see Keith!" He stood, amused by the way that Nika managed to look interested despite their mask.

"There is an overwhelming chance you would be safer here than with the Red Paladin," Slav protested, but Lance ignored him and left.

He actually did find Keith, though not all the way on the other side of the room. Instead he found him on his own, a drink in hand and looking very much like he'd rather sink into the wall.

"You okay?" Lance asked.

Keith glanced at him. "I'm avoiding someone," he admitted.

"Aw, Keith, did someone invite you to dance?"

"Yes," he said, sipping absentmindedly at his drink.

Lance peered into his cup. "What's that?"

"It's not intoxicating," Keith told him immediately, narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he wondered, crossing his arms.

"Because you're not happy," Keith said, "and unhappy people like getting drunk."

Am I that obvious? Lance leaned against the wall, trying not to look too sullen. Keith, at least, didn't require conversation, so he could wallow in his thoughts.

Except sometimes things did not go the way Lance expected them to.

"So...seen Pidge yet?" Keith asked nonchalantly.

"No," said Lance.

"Good."

Lance whipped his head around to look at him. "Why's that?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Because she's with her boyfriend."

Lance followed Keith's gaze until his eyes fell on Pidge, standing with a short Olkari and her brother. Both, though dressed as finely as anyone else, looked plain beside Pidge, who wore a green ballgown shot through with shimmering streaks of yellow and white, the hem brushing her ankles. She smiled as she hugged her brother, and, yet again, she wasn't wearing glasses.

Keith reached over and tapped his chin, and Lance realized his jaw dropped. He blushed, and scowled when he shot a glance at Keith and saw he was smirking.

"So..." said Keith. "Do you think Pidge is attractive?"

Lance covered his face with his hands. "Subjectively," he admitted.

Keith laughed, but he calmed quickly and nudged Lance. "It'll work out," he promised.

"What do you know?" he demanded, glancing at him.

"Enough," he said, shrugging. He offered Lance his drink, and when he took it he added, "Don't drink too much tonight. None of us wants a repeat of Shiro's engagement party."

"I'm starting to think more happened that night than I remember," Lance joked. He sipped at the drink, but spat it out immediately and glared at Keith when he realized he'd passed him a cup of nunvil. "That was cruel," he accused.

Keith smiled. "But it distracted you, didn't it?"

Lance then glanced back towards Pidge. Her brother had disappeared, and now she danced with the Olkari man. He was short enough, even compared to Pidge, that her eyes happened to meet Lance's when she looked over his shoulder.

She looked away too quickly, her lips twisting into a scowl.

"No, but it was a good try," Lance conceded, setting the cup – that neither of them was going to drain – on a nearby table.

Keith did have a point though, so Lance tried to spend the next varga distracting himself. He even asked a few attendees to dance, and since it was obvious that he was the Blue Paladin – and had Princess Allura's ear – most of them took him up on his offer.

Lance even started to have fun, laughing and joking with people he didn't know, though he stopped to chat with those he did. But he couldn't help looking around for Pidge every few minutes, and whenever he spotted her with her date or any of the other Olkari – since Allura and Coran suggested they socialize beyond their usual friends – he glanced away before she could spot him.

Somehow, he found himself sitting with Pidge's brother, resting his feet from dancing while Matt toyed with a silver bracelet that had the initials S.H. engraved on it. Lance knew Pidge had an identical one on her own wrist, memorials to their father.

"I'm surprised at you, Lance," Matt said.

"Why?" asked Lance, tapping his fingers on the table. He resisted the usual urge to search out Pidge and instead watched Coran showing off his cape to an audience of five.

"From what Pidge and Shiro have told me, you don't miss a chance to flirt with anyone."

Lance glanced at Matt, who smiled hesitantly at him. "Is that an invitation?" he wondered, trying for teasing.

Matt frowned, unimpressed. "Sounds forced," he observed.

"You caught me," Lance said. He waved at Keith, dancing with a Cnidarian, though from the look on his face it resembled a hostage situation. "I can't muster much enthusiasm tonight, for some reason."

"Sure," said Matt, sounding skeptical, but Lance didn't look at him, since something else captured his attention.

Pidge leaving the ballroom, head high even as she frowned and tightly gripped the fabric of her dress, drew Lance's gaze. His heart clenched, and he looked in the direction that she left to see the Olkari she was dancing with just a few minutes ago. He stood with a few fellow youthful Olkari, looking sullen and tugging at the collar of his robe while one of his friends spoke to him.

Lance's attention flicked back to the door, then he glanced at Matt, who also frowned. "Uh...?"

"Are you asking permission?" Matt said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Are you giving it?" Lance retorted.

Matt laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Nowadays," he said, now sounding a little sad, "I think you all know my own sister better than I do."

Lance took that as a tacit sort of approval. He offered Matt a polite smile and walked away, the sounds of music and two hundred people conversing fading as he traveled down the corridor, only to realize he had no idea where Pidge was.

On a whim, he decided to head outside, where the air was fresh, if a little humid, rather than stuffy and recycled. He passed clusters of people getting away from the crowd and noise of the ballroom, and once he was outdoors, among the trees that reminded him so much of a tropical rain forest on Earth, he spotted a short, slight figure in a green dress standing with her hand resting against a tree trunk.

"So you hug trees now?" Lance asked, approaching her from behind.

Pidge didn't flinch, though her eyes were closed and his footsteps soft even to his own ears. "My Lion is the Guardian Spirit of the Forest," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but...you hate nature."

Pidge shook her head. "I don't hate it," she said. "I just prefer to admire it from afar."

Lance smiled. "You're not very far now," he pointed out.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him. "What do you want, Lance?" she demanded. Her voice had been so soft before, almost contemplative, but now it dripped with hostility.

She remembered. Of course she did.

"To apologize," Lance said, looking at the ground between their feet. "I've not been...nice to you lately, so I'm sorry." He looked up to see she was still frowning.

Pidge dropped her hand from the tree trunk and instead leaned against it. "Why have you been avoiding me?" she asked, tone mild rather than accusatory.

"I honestly have no excuse," Lance admitted. Uncomfortable, he rubbed the back of his neck, stuffing his other hand in a pocket.

She stared at him for a moment, as if looking for insincerity, then sighed and rubbed her arms. "Fine," she said. "I accept your apology, I guess."

"That's...good enough," Lance said, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. From the look she shot him, he wasn't successful.

"Is that why you followed me out?" Pidge wondered.

"Partly," he said, shrugging, "but also partly because you looked upset." He leaned on the trunk beside her, though not so close their arms would brush accidentally, and was grateful when she didn't move away.

"Oh," Pidge said. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Lance said, poking her bare shoulder.

"Yes. I'll be fine."

"See, that's a totally different thing," Lance said. "Because I believe it."

Pidge just hummed noncommittally.

"Look, I know breakups are tough," he started, "but--"

"I declined a marriage proposal."

"Wait, what ?" Lance snapped his head around so fast he thought he might've given himself whiplash.

Pidge stared up at him sheepishly. "I guess the Olkari move quicker than I thought?" she offered with a shrug.

"How long have you been seeing this guy?"

"We met a year ago," she said, a blush visible on her face despite the dim lighting. "And kept in contact, but not very regularly. I was...planning on ending things anyway."

"Why?" Lance asked, though a part of him wanted to dance in triumph.

"I was interested in him for a while," Pidge explained, "but it's not fair to him."

"Uh, what's not?" Lance wondered.

"There's...someone else," she admitted, voice so quiet Lance had to strain to hear.

He fought a sigh. Of course there was someone else. But Pidge looked so miserable about it that Lance's heart ached for her rather than for himself.

"Here," Lance said, shrugging out of his jacket and offering it to her.

"What?" Pidge said, staring at it.

"You look cold," he said, shaking it.

Pidge accepted it without hesitation, putting it on and snuggling into it. Lance smiled at the sight and inched just a bit closer to her.

"Sometimes--" she cut herself off, sighing.

"What?" Lance said softly, nudging her with his elbow. "Tell me."

"Sometimes I wonder if I deserve to be happy."

"Of course you do, Pidge," Lance protested immediately, staring at her in shock. "Why wouldn't you?"

"My father," she said, hugging herself. "My brother."

"He's safe now, thanks to you," he reminded her.

"But is he happy?" Pidge demanded, rubbing her face. "And my mother...I haven't seen her in years , Lance! What if-what if she's dead too?"

Lance, frowning, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her in for a hug. She buried her face in his chest, clutching at the back of his shirt. "None of that is your fault, Pidge," he said.

"I know," Pidge said, voice muffled. She sniffled, and he ran his fingers through her hair, heedless of the careful styling, trying to soothe her. "God, I know , but it still feels like it's my fault. What if I found them sooner?"

"Hey, look at me," he said.

She did, eyes red and shining, tear tracks on her cheeks. She held his gaze, and he wondered what she saw there.

Love, he hoped. What use was there in hiding it?

"Your brother doesn't blame you," he told her.

"I know," said Pidge, her voice cracking.

"From what I know about him, your father sure as hell didn't blame you either."

"I know ."

"Then why the quiznak are you blaming yourself?" Lance said, a touch exasperated.

Pidge's arms tightened around him, and her nose dug into his collarbone. "You're like this too, you know."

"What?"

"You complain that you're not fast enough, or strong enough, or smart enough." She glared up at him. "But you are. You're plenty ."

Lance, stunned, couldn't respond to that, because she was right. She always was.

Her hand rubbed circles onto his back, and he wondered when she became the comforter rather than the comforted.

They stood like that for more time than Lance bothered to keep track of, holding each other close. Music, something slow and steady, streamed out of the Castle, and they swayed to it. The tune sort of reminded Lance of the lullabies his mother sang to her grandchildren when they were babies in need of calming, the ones she sang to him in his family's home videos.

"Think we should go back inside?" Pidge asked him.

Lance glanced down at her. She leaned against him, her ear to his chest, and he wondered if she heard the pounding of his heart.

He found himself smiling. "If you want to," he said.

"We should," she said, stepping out of the fold of his arms.

Lance tried not to feel too disappointed as she took off his jacket and returned it to him. But he offered her his arm as they turned to go. "Shall we?" he asked.

Pidge rolled her eyes but grinned, a trace of her usual humor back on her face, and accepted his arm. Her eyes were still red, making it easy to spot that she'd been crying, but she didn't mention wanting to wash her face.

They walked back into the ballroom, though by now some party goers were already leaving, bidding one of the hosts goodbye. Lance spotted Shiro and Allura standing together, speaking to Ryner, Kolivan, and a member of the delegation from Podex, with Matt hovering nearby, frowning in boredom, though he brightened when he saw Pidge.

He didn't approach them, and Lance wondered why, at least until Pidge grabbed his hand and said, "You want to dance?"

Lance's heart picked up its pace, and he grinned. "Ha, you beat me to the punch then," he said.

Pidge grinned in return and dragged him to the dance floor. The music picked up, something fast and almost like pop that wouldn't be out of place at a high school-type dance, but Pidge held him in place.

"I'm going to teach you how to waltz," she decided. She lifted their joined hands until they were raised to the level of Lance's shoulder, and she grabbed his other hand and placed it on her waist.

Lance's face heated. "Uh...this is waltz music?" he asked as Pidge rested her hand on his shoulder.

"No," she said. "Step on every third beat. Lead me in a circle, since that's easiest."

"What?" Lance said. "I'm not ready!"

"Too late," Pidge said, flashing him an impish grin. " One -two-three, one -two-three, one -two-three--" She nudged one of his feet with hers, and Lance moved.

He stepped on every third beat like she instructed, and she started humming something that sounded suspiciously like the Blue Danube Waltz. When he faltered, she was there to make up for his shortcomings, taking control until he found the beat again. By the time they made several circles, almost running into other dancers more than once, they were both in giggles despite Lance tripping over his own feet multiple times.

When Pidge got to the end of her song, they stopped. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" Lance asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged. "Everything you said. I think I needed to hear it."

"Of course you did," he said. "You know I'm here for you, right?"

Pidge smiled. "Yeah, I know."

The next stop on the Voltron Tour of Diplomacy was a planet straddling the boundary between space liberated from the Galra and still within their grasp. It was by no means a safe sector of the universe due to the warzone surrounding it, but Allura wanted to see the Nicrosilians fulfill their side of a bargain before Voltron took out the active Galra base on Nicrosil's surface.

Usually Allura only took Shiro with her to diplomatic meetings that weren't on the Castle, since he had that impressive presence, not to mention his resume now included 'Consort to the Princess of New Altea'. But this time, after a strange appraising look – and another secretive one exchanged between the princess and her husband – Allura said, "Lance, I would love it if you joined us for the meeting with the Nicrosilians."

Lance gaped, his spork slipping out of his hand and clattering onto his nearly empty plate. "What? Why?"

Keith and Hunk also stared incredulously, Hunk at Lance and Keith at Shiro, who stood to the side already in his Paladin armor, something that looked awfully like a smirk on his face.

"Well, I think if anyone can stand in for Shiro should the need arise, it will be you." Allura smiled at him, the light seeming to shine on her white teeth.

Lance wasn't falling for it. "So...what are you up to?" he asked suspiciously.

"Like Allura said," Shiro said, "it will be a good experience for you. And you're much better at diplomacy than Keith." His eyes zeroed in on Keith, who scowled and looked away.

"But...Hunk?" Lance pointed to him.

"Just go put on your armor, Lance," Shiro said impatiently.

"Yes, sir," Lance said, and he could hear the confusion in his own voice. But he still stood up and left the kitchen, returning to his room.

On the way, he passed Pidge, eyes drooping with exhaustion and late for breakfast as usual. "Hey," he said, smiling and raising a hand.

She raised her hand to wave back, at least until she yawned.

Warmth bloomed in his chest, and words that he wasn't ready to say fought to fall from his lips.

I love her, he thought. Quiznak, I'm in love with Pidge.

Pidge, unaware of his realization, asked, "Is breakfast over already?"

Lance recovered from his shock quickly and replied, "No, no. I'm just going to change. Shiro and Allura want me to meet the Nicrosilians with them."

A new alertness entered Pidge's gaze, and she didn't look so tired anymore. "You?" she said, sounding skeptical. "Really?"

"That's what I said!" Lance agreed, gesturing to himself. "Hunk would be a better choice, right?"

"With the Nicrosilians, even Keith would be better," Pidge added, crossing her arms and scowling.

"That's a joke, right?" Lance narrowed his eyes at her, though she didn't seem to be joking. "I take offense at that!"

"You should," she said.

"Hey!"

"Lance!" Shiro called from down the hall.

"Sorry!" Lance tossed over his shoulder. To Pidge, he said, "Gotta go. Enjoy breakfast."

"Sure," Pidge said, rolling her eyes at him. "Enjoy diplomacy ."

For the life of him, Lance couldn't imagine why she was so annoyed about this.

They left the Castle in orbit around Nicrosil, inside the orbit of its single silvery moon, while Shiro piloted the Black Lion into the planet's atmosphere.

Nicrosil had skies of an even lighter blue than Earth, and its gravity was greater. When they disembarked the Black Lion, Lance's life support read that the atmosphere here was poorer in oxygen than was safe for his physiology, at least for an exposure of longer than two vargas.

Where they landed just outside of a city of skyscrapers with bridges connecting upper landings, the planet's surface was dotted with scrubby bushes blooming with pink and red flowers, much like a desert, though the soil was a silvery gray – metallic rather than silicon like sand on Earth. If Lance remembered Allura's briefing correctly, Nicrosil's entire surface was rich in metallic elements, which was why the Galra persisted in colonizing it despite the Nicrosilians' deca-phoebs of insurgency.

Allura wore her pink Paladin armor, which, at least in Lance's opinion, looked more impressive than a dress or her old space suit, though if she wanted she could probably be imposing even while dressed in a plastic black trash bag. She led the way to the waiting Nicrosilian representatives, who wore impressive – though perhaps not functional – shining armor of small overlapping metal plates.

The last time Voltron met with the Nicrosilians, Lance and Hunk were on a different mission, so seeing them now momentarily stunned him. They were humanoid in appearance, but with silvery skin. Two of the delegation had gold – not bright yellow, not blonde, but gold – hair, that shimmered mesmerizingly in the sunlight, while the other three wore braids of gray. All five members were women, or looked like women, tall and willowy and devastatingly attractive.

Shiro shot him a suspicious look, but Lance just shrugged. Did he really think he would try his luck on a diplomatic mission?

Besides, lately, monogamy was starting to look more and more appealing, and beautiful though the Nicrosilians were, they weren't Pidge.

Lance's eyes widened, and he paid no mind as Allura broached the topic of the treaty they signed last time they met. Instead, he remembered Pidge's last words to him, and had to resist the sudden urge to cover his face, shamed for once in his pathetic life.

Even if maybe – maybe – Pidge wanted to be with him, that she might reciprocate even a fraction of the feelings he had for her, she couldn't possibly think so positively about him as to want him, not when he'd been practically throwing himself at other women – and men too, occasionally – for as long as she'd known him.

"--our Blue Paladin himself will lead the attack on the base," Allura was reassuring the Nicrosilians when Lance tuned back into the meeting.

What? Lance blinked under the scrutiny of one of the gold-haired Nicrosilians. She smiled at him, and he offered her a cautious one in return.

"He doesn't look as strong as your lifemate, Princess," one of the gray-haired delegates commented.

"He's strong enough for the task, Prime," Shiro said, clapping a hand on Lance's shoulder.

The smile plastered on his face fell slightly. Enough, he thought. That's me. Just enough .

The one paying particular attention to him leaned forward and whispered something into the Prime's pointed ear. The Prime glanced down as she listened, then looked at Allura. "It is agreed, Princess," she said. "Your Blue and Green Paladins will take the base, and I will have fifteen hundred troops on standby ready to support them. My own daughter will be on call; the troops are under her command." She gestured to the gold-haired Nicrosilian beside her.

Lance didn't like the way her coppery eyes gleamed when she looked at him again. "It is a pleasure to know you, Blue Paladin," she said, clasping her hands together as if giving herself a handshake. "You may call me Ferra."

After a quick glance at Shiro, who wore an inscrutable expression, Lance, mouth dry, imitated her gesture and replied, "Likewise."

But all he could think was quiznak .

Allura and the Prime Nicrosilian scheduled the joint mission in two daytime cycles' time. After that, it was a matter of agreeing to allow her and a few of her fellows aboard the Castle of Lions to monitor the attack.

When they were free to go, Lance felt unusually lightheaded, though it might’ve been only because he spent over a varga on a planet with an atmosphere poorer in oxygen than he was accustomed to. He sat down inside the Black Lion's cockpit and took off his helmet, running his fingers through his sweaty hair.

"You did well, Lance," Allura said, sitting down beside him.

"Well, you kinda...sprang it on me," Lance pointed out.

"Sprang...it?" Allura stared at him, confused.

"I mean, you didn't say anything about me leading the mission until now." Lance forced a grin. "But your confidence isn't misplaced, Princess."

Allura smiled. "I'm sure," she said, "but to be fair, the Prime Nicrosilian requested you specifically."

"All that about asking if I was as strong as your lifemate ?"

Allura blushed and cleared her throat. "You were her second choice, after Shiro," she conceded, patting his arm.

"Always second choice," Lance muttered.

"Oh, Lance, that's not true at all!" Allura said.

Damn, Lance forgot how sharp Altean ears were. "Have I ever been first choice?" he asked her, not sure he actually wanted an answer.

"You were the Blue Lion's first choice," she reminded him.

"Not for long." Sometimes, the memory of Blue shutting him out – even if it was for a good reason – still hurt.

"Oh, stop," said Allura. "You're more valuable to Voltron than you think you are, Lance."

Lance glanced at the back of Shiro's head. Of course, he sat in the pilot's seat, and likely too far away to hear them distinctly. "I'm sure," he said skeptically.

Quiznak , he'd thought he was over this. Shiro had returned to them, the Black Lion welcoming him back with open arms (or jaw). Keith took back the Red Lion, with which he was much happier, and Lance... Well, he knew Blue loved him as much as Black loved Shiro or Red loved Keith, but he also felt how much she missed Allura, and knew Allura must miss her too.

It was hard not to be jealous sometimes, even when he knew he was being unreasonable.

The whole meeting including travel only amounted to just over two vargas, and Lance was quick to head towards his room to change back into civvies while Allura and Shiro lingered in the Black Lion's hangar.

One of the mice climbed his leg and hitched a ride on his shoulder, while another curled up for a nap in his helmet.

"Really?" he said, looking into the helmet at where the large yellow one curled up. "It's not enough that I feed you? I have to provide a bed for you too?"

The green one on his shoulder chirped in his ear and tugged on his earlobe. "Hey!" he said, prodding it with his finger. "What?"

He offered the mouse his hand, and it accepted, sitting there and pointing in a different direction from the one he'd been heading in.

"You want me to go...where?" he asked it, as if it could respond.

The mouse pointed more insistently, but Lance rolled his eyes and said, "Can it wait until I change?"

It was remarkable how human the mouse's mannerisms were, Lance thought as it smacked its forehead in exasperation.

"Fine," he said, sighing. He lowered it to the ground and added, "Lead the way, my tiny furry friend.”

The mouse scampered off, pausing to look back and make sure he was following it. Lance kept a leisurely pace, curious but not so curious that he wasn't enjoying frustrating the poor critter. When, after stopping and turning to him for the fifth time, it squeaked indignantly, Lance said, "Alright, I'll pick up the pace. How's this?" He sped up, and the mouse didn't seem so annoyed.

It quickly became clear that the mouse led him towards the Green Lion's hangar. Lance froze outside the doorway. "Why am I here?" he asked the mouse.

A squeak from his helmet reminded him that the yellow one still slept there. It made kissy faces at him, and Lance blushed.

When did his life turn into a Disney movie?

"Not a word of this to the princess," he warned the mouse, bending down to let it out of his helmet.

The mouse squeaked, and Lance knew it wouldn't be promising anything. Actually, they were probably leading him here on Allura's request, which meant she knew.

Lance sighed, stiffened his shoulders, and walked into the hangar.

Pidge was nowhere to be seen.

"Huh, thanks guys," Lance said snidely in case the mice were still in earshot. "Guess I'm going back to my room after--" He cut himself off when the Green Lion lowered her head and opened her jaw. "Oh," he squeaked.

Bracing himself yet again, he entered the Green Lion, spotting Pidge sitting in the pilot's seat once he walked into the cockpit.

"Thanks, Green," she said, sounding sarcastic, as her seat pushed itself back and she stood to face Lance.

"Hey, is that my jacket?" Lance asked, pointing at her.

Pidge blushed and took it off, dropping it in her seat. "Green let you in without my permission," she complained.

"Don't you hate it when they do that?" Lance said, smirking.

She ignored that and added, "And Shiro just commed to tell me we're going on a mission together in two days?"

Lance's heart sank as he realized she was determined to be all business at the moment. "That's the word on the Nicrosilian street," he confirmed.

"Sounds...good," Pidge said. She picked up his jacket and handed it to him in a strange echo of the night of the party, only this time, something felt...off.

It didn't help that Pidge wouldn't look at him.

Lance took his jacket and asked, "So two of Allura's mice brought me here, and I doubt it was just for my jacket." He looked pointedly at Pidge. "What's up?"

"I'll be fine," she said, crossing her arms.

"Like I told you the other night, I'm here--"

"I don't want to talk about it," she interrupted without any bite. Her eyes darted up to his face, and she added, "At least, not yet. Okay?"

"Okay," said Lance. He left the Lion and the hangar, but he loitered by the entrance until she overtook him. He watched her go, thinking...

It wasn't something that he did this time, at least he didn't think so. But the last place he expected to find Pidge was sulking in her Lion, and wearing his jacket.

For some reason, Pidge keeping something from him – especially something bothering her – hit uncomfortably close to home. It reminded him of the days back at the Garrison, when Pidge Gunderson was his team's aloof coms officer, secretive and resistant to his and Hunk's friendship.

It was fine though, Lance told himself. Pidge could have time to herself, and he would be there when she needed him.

Inside the hangar, the Green Lion rumbled, something nonthreatening between a purr and a growl. Lance knew without being told that it was directed at him, a directive of sorts.

"Don't worry," Lance reassured Pidge's Lion. "She's stronger than we give her credit for."

Pidge kept to herself for most of the next day, only emerging for meals, and even then not saying much except for the most basic of pleasantries. And a quick conversation with Hunk revealed that it wasn't just Lance that she avoided.

Except Shiro. After lunch, he spotted her talking to Shiro, who had a hand on her shoulder and a frown on his face. Lance tried to eavesdrop from around a corner, but he'd never been good at reading lips.

In any case, neither of them looked happy, and whatever upset Pidge must have also upset Shiro from the way Allura treated him, her mouth turned down in a sympathetic frown as she held Shiro's cybernetic hand in both of hers.

Despite that, Lance couldn't help but make a poorly timed quip at dinner.

"You know, Pidge," Lance commented, stabbing his spork into the pastry on his plate and unable to disguise the impatience in his voice, "if I didn't know any better, from the way you've been avoiding all of us lately, I'd think you and Keith swapped bodies."

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Keith stared at him, a look of disbelief on his face, and Hunk subtly shook his head disparagingly. Shiro set his spork down, face darkly angry and looking ready to get up and kick his ass, something he could've handled...if not for Pidge.

Her face was oddly serene, lips drawn into a flat line, though she glared at him. "I thought we were past this," she said, voice dangerously soft.

"Me too," he said, stubbornly – and unwisely – digging his heels in.

Pidge pushed her chair back and stood, her plate almost untouched. "Thank you for the meal, Hunk," she said. "It was delicious." She turned on her heel and left the dining room, leaving an explosion of chatter in her wake.

"Are you an idiot ?" said Keith.

"Yes," Lance said, voice small.

"I thought you were past this too," Hunk added, eyeing him.

"I know," Lance agreed.

"Why are you like this?" Keith demanded, gesturing at him with his spork.

"I don't know!" Lance retorted, pushing his plate away from him.

The door slid open again, Shiro leaving them probably to comfort Pidge, and Coran entering, a tablet in his hands. He glanced around at the three of them, taking in the tension and Keith and Hunk staring incredulously at Lance.

"Have I interrupted a strange Earth ritual?"

"Yes," said Hunk. "It's called the dinnertime argument."

"Oh!" Coran said, much too cheerfully for the atmosphere. "We had those on Altea too. Why, I remember an especially nasty one between my mother and my grandfather..."

Lance tuned him out as he spoke. He picked at his food, appetite vanishing, then decided he was better off leaving. "Thanks Hunk," he said, quietly so as not to interrupt Coran's story – though from the glazed over look in Keith's eyes, he might've done them a favor if he had.

Hunk sighed and patted him on the shoulder. "She'll talk to you when she's ready," he said. "She always does."

"I know that... conceptually ," Lance admitted, "but not so much in practice."

"I noticed."

"Well, I'm going to bed, I guess. Big day tomorrow." He stood, stretching, and waved goodbye.

Coran plowed through his story, only sparing him a glance, while Hunk pretended to listen attentively and Keith rested his forehead on the table and groaned.

Lance laughed, smug about his escape, but his humor vanished as soon as he was outside.

When he passed Pidge's bedroom door, he paused, wondering if she would want an apology from him tonight or if it was too soon, except...they were going on a mission together the next day. What if they didn't clear the air before that?

Every mission could be their last.

His insides freezing with fear, Lance raised his fist to knock on her door, but he lowered it when he heard indistinct voices inside:  Shiro and Pidge.

Lance sighed. Likely as not, whatever was wrong, Pidge wished her brother was with her rather than with his rebels, and Shiro would be the next best thing to Matt. So he decided against disturbing her. Instead he took off his jacket and hung it from a hook nearby on the wall, knowing she might find comfort in that, at least.

(Why though, he wasn't sure.)

He returned to his own room, trying to put Pidge from his mind.

No matter the time of the Castle's daily (or quintant-ly) cycle, it always looked like night outside the windows. But the heaviness in Lance's body told him it was sometime after midnight.

Relatively, anyway.

He wandered around the Castle's empty hallways, activating motion-sensing lights as he walked. He opened doors that he passed at random, though by now the Castle's mystery no longer appealed to him, solved over the last three years when he convinced one of the other Paladins – usually Pidge or Keith, though Hunk could sometimes be persuaded to forego sleep as well – to explore with him...lest the Castle prove haunted again.

Usually when sleep refused to come despite the drooping of his eyes and the drowsiness of his thoughts, Lance wandered. Sometimes, he learned or saw things he'd rather not – Coran crying in the bridge, one time, and Shiro sneaking into Allura's bedroom another – but most of the time he spent alone, or down in the Blue Lion's hangar, or, if he felt particularly reckless, the Red Lion's.

(She still talked to him, sometimes.)

Tempted as he was to seek Blue, he decided against it. They'd have plenty of quality time soon enough.

Instead Lance ended up on the observation deck, knowing he could see Nicrosil from up there if the Castle faced the right direction. What he did not expect was to find someone else trying to do the same thing.

"Hey," he said cautiously when he caught sight of Pidge, wearing his jacket and sitting in front of the large window, her knees drawn up to her face and arms wrapped around her legs.

Pidge jumped, startled, and glanced over her shoulder at him, looking as exhausted as he felt. "Hey," she said. She scooted over a little, so she wasn't as close to the center of the window, and Lance took it as an invitation and sat beside her, mimicking her position.

"You're wearing my jacket again," he commented.

"Finders keepers," she said.

Lance smiled, grateful for the trace of humor in her voice. But his face fell when he remembered dinner. "I'm sorry," he said. "Again. I took it personally when I shouldn't have."

"I'm sorry too," Pidge said. "I just needed some time."

"For what?" Lance asked warily. He darted his eyes towards her and met her gaze.

"My brother got injured on a mission," she told him.

"How--"

"It's bad enough that it should've killed him," she explained, hugging her legs closer to her body. "Last time Fallan contacted me, he was still sleeping in a pod, healing." She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders starting to shake. "But it might not be good enough; the injury could leave him brain dead."

Everything snapped into place, and he realized she'd been struggling to hold it together for the sake of their mission. She pushed her grief aside in favor of something else.

Lance reached for her, cautiously in case his affection wasn't welcome, but was glad when she didn't pull away. Actually, she all but jumped into his arms, wrapping hers around him.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Lance tried to joke as she cried into his shirt again . He rubbed her back and sighed.

Pidge let out a strangled laugh at his joke. " Quiznak , you've seen me at my worst in the last few days," she said, voice trembling.

"What else are friends for?" Lance asked, his chin in her hair.

"Helping you miss out on your much loved beauty sleep," Pidge quipped through a sniffle.

"Worth it," Lance assured her quickly. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

"I never can before a mission either," Pidge agreed, disentangling her limbs from his and leaving Lance cold . "I was working on updating the Castle's security systems, but I couldn't focus."

"Then let's not focus," Lance suggested.

"What do you mean?" Pidge said, shooting him a curious look.

"What do you miss most about Earth?"

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you just want to see me cry again?"

" Quiznak , Pidge, what kinda guy do you take me for?" Lance demanded.

"It was a joke," Pidge said, rolling her eyes, "but the reassurance is nice." She sniffled again and rubbed her eyes.

"So...?"

"My mom," she said, playing with the zipper on his jacket. "Still doesn't know I'm alive, and Matt..." She shook her head.

"Yeah, let's not talk about that," Lance decided. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his hands, trying to get comfortable. "I mean, I miss my family too. Who knows how many nieces and nephews I have now?"

Pidge laughed. "Busy family," she commented.

Lance, warmed at the sound of her laughing at something he said, added, "Okay, what do you miss about Earth besides your mom?"

Pidge shrugged, humming. "My video games and books," she said. "Mostly comic books, to be honest." She smiled. "Peanut butter, and my grandmother's cooking, my..." She sighed heavily, her eyes unfocused. "My innocence."

Lance elbowed her, trying to lighten the mood despite the heaviness in the air. "You're awful at this, Pidge," he said. "I'm trying to cheer you up."

" You were the one who asked," she pointed out, glancing at him. "So what do you miss, Lance?"

He snickered. "Well, that's easy," he said. "I miss Spanish."

"Spanish?"

"Yeah, just...hearing it," he said, shrugging.

"Not speaking it?" Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Lance narrowed his eyes at her. "The Castle, the Lions, and our armor have those translators, right? Those algorithms you found so fascinating when we first ended up in space?"

"I still do," Pidge amended, nodding.

"So what if I told you"--Lance lowered his voice in suspense as he peered at her--"that I've been speaking Spanish the entire time?"

"Then wouldn't you hear Spanish too?" Pidge wondered. "Well, I guess the translators pick up on the most common languages and transmit those to limit how much they have to output. Otherwise maybe Shiro would hear Japanese since he probably favors it over English, or--"

"Okay, now you're starting to sound humorless." Lance rolled his eyes.

"I know you're joking, Lance," Pidge said, "but you do raise a puzzle."

"Nerd," Lance teased, prodding her shoulder.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she retorted, smiling at him.

Quiznak , there went his heart.

"So you miss hearing Spanish..." Pidge nodded. "Maybe we can find some way around that?"

"Hmm, how's that?"

"Well, we'd have to shut down any translators nearby, for one. Then, well, sadly, I took French in high school, so I can't offer my conversational services."

Lance smiled. "Nice of you to try though," he said, ruffling her soft hair. "It means a lot."

"On the other hand, the translators don't pick up on recorded songs for some reason, and I think I have some old Shakira songs on my computer?"

Lance, unimpressed, raised an eyebrow at her. "You're trying to woo me with Shakira?"

Pidge blushed. "Not woo you, just..." She waved her hand, trying to explain herself. "I don't know. You don't have to take it seriously."

"I'm touched," he said, and he was. He gently flicked Pidge's ear and added, "And like Shakira's hips, I don't lie."

"Sure," Pidge said, glancing sideways at him.

Something about that look had his heart racing, the way she peered from under her eyelashes. Their hands rested on the ground, barely a centimeter apart; in fact, if Lance so much as twitched his pinky he would brush hers.

Quiznak , he really wanted to kiss Pidge.

He breathed, slowly and deliberately. "Pidge--"

"I'm tired," she interrupted, standing in one smooth motion. "I think I'll try to sleep." She offered him her hand, and Lance took it.

As usual, her strength impressed him when she tugged him to his feet.

"Thank you," she said, smiling. She didn't drop his hand.

He didn't drop hers.

Lance leaned down.

The lights flashed red, the Castle's alarms blaring half a tic later.

"Quiznak," Pidge hissed, and they jerked apart.

"Quiznak," Lance agreed as Coran's voice came over the intercom:

"Paladins, there's been a change of plans!" he alerted them. "The Galra occupying Nicrosil have attacked their capital. Lance and Pidge, deploy now! The rest of you provide support and help evacuate the city! We need to move! Princess, I need you in the bridge!"

The intercom cut off with a hiss of static, the alarms quieting, but the Castle's lights still flashed.

Lance looked at Pidge, and despite his exhaustion, he smiled bracingly at her. "You ready?" he asked her.

"You bet," she said.

It was time.

Chapter Text

"Hello, Bluetiful," Lance greeted his Lion. "How are you this fine evening?"

Blue growled, vibrating beneath his feet as he collapsed into the pilot's seat. Her presence filled his mind, warm and welcome, and he wondered how he could ever doubt her love for him. And with his hands on the controls, Blue lifted off the ground and shot out of the open hangar doors.

"So...been a while since we saw any action, huh?" Lance said. He was already jittery with nerves, but despite a sleepless night he was wired and alert. He suspected it had something to do with his and Blue's bond, that maybe her quintessence fed his.

She wouldn't confirm it when he asked though. In fact, every time he mentioned it, she seemed almost coy .

It didn't stop her from scolding Lance for his lack of sleep.

"I know," he told her. "I made a terrible decision, but I couldn't sleep." He narrowed his eyes, spotting the Green Lion.

The original plan involved both him and Pidge traveling in Blue. It wasn't meant to be a difficult mission, despite the precautions they took while coordinating with the Prime Nicrosilian.

"I'm afraid the two of you will be on your own for this," Princess Allura said through the comms. "The troops the Prime Nicrosilian promised are needed defending the capital, but--"

"Princess Allura?" a new, familiar voice interrupted.

"Oh, General Ferra!" said Allura.

"Who?" Pidge muttered, her face flickering onto his console's video feed across from Allura's.

"I will accompany the Paladins personally on their mission," said Ferra, voice confident.

"Are you sure, General?" said Allura.

"We can handle it, General," Lance said, frowning. "If your city needs you--"

"Our troops have it in hand," said the general in a voice that brooked no argument.

Distinctly, Lance wondered if she didn't trust them to see the job done, and a growl from Blue proved that she shared his concern.

"Pidge, you all right?" Lance asked. "You're being awfully quiet."

"Pidge?" said Ferra.

"Pidge is our Green Paladin," said Allura. "Your other partner for the mission."

"Yes, well, I am sending the schematics our spies obtained of the base," said General Ferra. "I am waiting at the southeast entrance. Hide your Lions in the trees."

A new image uploaded itself into Blue's computer, with entry points and weaknesses in the base's defensive systems highlighted.

The Blue and Green Lions breached Nicrosil's atmosphere south of the base. They flew slowly as they approached an alpine forest.

"What do you want to bet it's cold here?" Pidge asked.

"Uh, what?" Lance said, surprised at her question.

"I mean, sure," Pidge continued, as if he hadn't said anything, "the sun is shining, but look at the trees! They look like...Canada."

Lance laughed. "If you're worried about getting cold, I brought my jacket." He winked at her, and was rewarded with the sight of her blushing.

"No thanks," she said brusquely. "I'm good."

They hid their Lions in a clearing in the trees, emerging on their speeders. Before racing towards the base, Pidge downloaded a map of the surrounding geography directly from the Castle onto her cuff, along with the schematics that General Ferra shared.

"So I don't think the general trusts us," Pidge commented as they finally sped away through the trees, leaving their Lions with particle barriers up and cloaking devices activated.

"Maybe she's just a hands-on general," Lance said, dodging a low-hanging branch. "You know, like Prince Lotor's."

"That's not a positive comparison," Pidge pointed out, "since they were, you know, with Lotor ."

"Ha, fair."

They halted their speeders at the edge of the trees, where a large swath of land – the same silvery gray as much of this planet's surface – lay open, and likely under surveillance, between them and the entrance where General Ferra waited.

"You think security's light since they're attacking?" Lance wondered, glancing at Pidge.

"Only one way to find out," she said, pressing something on her cuff. "I dropped a BLIP detector on our way over."

"You don't think they spotted us already?" Lance said, frowning. "Not that I'm worried, since we can take them."

Pidge snorted. "If they did, they would've tried to shoot us down. This feels too easy." She narrowed her eyes towards the gate that was their entry point. "It only has about a hundred live troops stationed here, but only about twenty are at the base now."

"Let me guess:  the rest are attacking the city?"

"Yup," said Pidge, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "But there's no telling how many sentries and drones."

Lance summoned his bayard and grinned. "Those are easy when you have a sharpshooter on your side."

"Uh, newsflash, sharpshooter ," said Pidge, rolling her eyes. "You can only shoot down one at a time, so what happens when they mob us?"

"Close the gates," Lance said, shrugging. "Or, alternatively, run like hell."

"Sounds like a plan."

The moment they stepped beyond the boundary of the trees, at least twenty drones emerged from the gate, shooting laser fire down at them. Lance activated his shield and did his best to shoot them down, while beside him Pidge did the same, her bayard forming into a handgun. Neither of them could properly aim as they rushed, trying to avoid the shots – though their armor did wonders to deflect the worst of the blasts – while they were in the open.

At the gate, Lance shoved Pidge in ahead of him, firing at the remaining drones until she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in after her. Then the gate slammed shut, Pidge already hacking into the base's system, and with the sun blocked, the only light source was the dim red lighting of a tunnel.

A figure in metallic armor – much more practical than what the Nicrosilians wore to the meeting – emerged from the shadows. The translucent visor lifted, and General Ferra smiled grimly at them.

"Well met, Paladins," she said, nodding.

"Hi," Pidge said. "You're General Ferra?"

"Yes." Ferra eyed her doubtfully. "You have a plan for destroying the base?"

"Of course she does," Lance interjected loyally.

"Like Zarkon's central command," Pidge said, smirking, "but much easier." She exchanged a glance with Lance, and he smiled back.

Hell of a time for that pleasant warmth to blossom in his chest.

General Ferra cleared her throat, and Lance felt himself blushing as he and Pidge returned their attention to the mission at hand.

Since she was most familiar with the layout, Ferra led the way to the central systems. Her brusque and professional demeanor was a stark contrast to her friendliness at the meeting before, but Lance dismissed it as a feature of the mission.

They dodged around corners and down hallways, doing their best to avoid sentries that, from their more sporadic patrolling patterns, were well-aware there was an intruder inside the base.

Close to the central energy units, Ferra held up her hand, bidding them pause. She put up all six fingers, then flashed three, then two. Lance narrowed his eyes in confusion, until Pidge interpreted, "Nine sentries, two Galra soldiers."

"Great," Lance breathed, hefting his rifle. "Should I...peek around the corner and take out the soldiers?" Not that he wanted to.

"No," said Ferra. "I may know another way around."

Pidge verified this by bringing up the schematics on her cuff. "Hmm, yes, but that way might be worse ."

"Why?" Lance asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Because--"

"We will use it anyway," Ferra said, grabbing them both by the arms and tugging them back the way they came.

"General!" Pidge said, alarmed. "I really don't think--"

The sound of blasters interrupted them, and Lance had his shield up in an instant, pushing Pidge behind him as he fired back. A whole wave of sentries rushed towards them, and despite Pidge shooting her grapple bayard and tearing through them, they just kept coming.

"We run," Ferra said, her footsteps retreating back down the hall.

"Yeah," Lance agreed. "Go, Pidge. I've got your back."

"But--"

"I'll follow, just go !" he said, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder to make sure she listened.

He finally rounded a corner, almost tripping over it, but he kept his footing and, while sheltered by something firmer than his shield, at least for the moment, he tried peering around sentries to living soldiers. If he could bring them down, they would be leaderless...

He took careful aim, inhaling and exhaling, then fired. The Galra soldier fell, his fellow running to his side while he commanded several sentries to surround them in a protective ring.

"Good enough," Lance decided, and turned to chase after Pidge and Ferra.

"Take a right," Pidge said.

"Paladins," said Coran into their helmets, "status report?"

"We encountered a road block," Lance told him as he caught up with Pidge and Ferra. He panted, struggling to catch his breath, his lack of sleep from the night before finally starting to pay off. Quiznak.

"We're going around it," Pidge offered. She crouched by a security console, her computer connected to it. "Quiznaking security..." She glared at Ferra, who hovered, lips turned down in worry. "This hallway has better security than that other one," she grumbled. "Not just cameras and alarms, but sentries waiting to deploy, and gas, and--" She cut herself off, frustrated. "I'll deactivate the sentries, but we don't have the time for me to disable the gas." With that, her visor slid shut, and Lance and Ferra followed suit by activating their own.

Lance sighed and told Coran, "You got all that, right?"

"Yes," said Coran. "Be careful Number Five, Number Three."

"Will do," Lance promised, his attention returning to the hall from where they came in case they were approached by more security forces. Ferra joined him, standing silently behind him with her own sleek blaster in hand.

"Ah, finally!" Pidge exclaimed, and the door in front of them slid open. "Huh, the gas might actually do us a favor where the living soldiers are concerned."

"It's not...deadly, is it?" Lance asked, peering into the hall – which looked the same as any other, if a little more narrow – ahead of them.

"No," said Pidge. "Actually, from its chemical composition, it's carbon dioxide."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," said Pidge, chewing on her lip. She retrieved her computer and the wires from the security console. "But if it's in a high enough concentration and for a long enough exposure time, it will be deadly." She eyed him, and then Ferra, making sure to drive the point home.

No one was disabling their visors.

A shot fired and struck Lance right in the knee.

"Quiznak!" he shouted, crumpling at the sudden impact to a weak point in his armor.

"Lance!" Pidge said, lunging for him. Her bayard morphed into a handgun, and, squinting, she aimed over his shoulder, shooting towards something behind him.

Lance put a hand to his knee. "I'm fine, Pidge," he said. He activated his shield and struggled to his feet. Though it hurt, he could still put some weight on his leg. "I'm fine," he repeated when Pidge tried to grab his arm again. "What...?" He turned his head to see a single stray sentry collapsed in the hall, a hole torn through its head. "Nice shot."

"Thanks," said Pidge. She turned to Ferra. "Make sure he doesn't fall behind."

"Of course," Ferra agreed.

This time Pidge led the way down the narrow hallway, with Ferra hovering almost at Lance's elbow, ready to reach for him should he stumble. He still managed to keep up, despite his limp, and did his best not to expose his discomfort.

That was all it was, he told himself. He wasn't in pain; he was just uncomfortable .

As Pidge predicted, his helmet picked up on dangerous concentrations of carbon dioxide and warned him to be cautious. Beside him, Ferra kept throwing glances over her shoulder, tense while she gripped her weapon tightly in two hands.

"Almost there," said Pidge, looking back at them. She narrowed her eyes as they fell on Lance, and frowned. He read the unasked question there, and he smiled reassuringly at her.

They came to a door, and Pidge summoned her bayard, stabbing the grapple through its console.

"Uh...what about security?" Lance asked as they stumbled into the room beyond.

"Not as tough as it should be," Pidge scoffed, dismissing her weapon.

The systems chamber resembled a round cavern, with spiraling stairs winding around the walls to the ground. Red and violet lights provided some illumination, but most of the lighting came from the machinery lifted from the ground.

Lance couldn't make heads or tails of it, but when he looked at Pidge she wore a look of determination.

"All I have to do is download a virus," she explained, "and the whole place will blow once it activates. Don't worry though, I'll give us enough time to escape."

"But not enough for the settlers to evacuate?" Ferra pressed, something fierce in the gaze she fixed on Pidge.

Pidge nodded. "You two guard the door while I go down."

"Wait," said Lance, reaching for her shoulder before she could leave. "There's another entrance, isn't there?"

Pidge shrugged sheepishly. "I locked that up tight last time we stopped," she admitted. "Just stay here and cover our exit, all right?"

Lance stared at her, and she stared back, scowling at him. She could do this, he reminded himself, and he was already injured. He sighed and nodded, leaning against the door he'd blasted open. "Fine," he said, "we'll stay."

"Very well, Green Paladin," Ferra agreed. "Just perform your due diligence."

Pidge descended into the cavern without another word, her posture stiff. Lance watched her until she was out of sight, and then his mind provided him with terrifying scenarios. Pidge alone, Pidge attacked, Pidge unconscious or suffocating or...

Lance felt a warm rumble in his head, like a mental hug; Blue comforting him, or pulling him back to the present and away from possibilities.

"I feel like Slav," he mused.

"Who?" asked the general.

"Slav," said Lance. "Odd guy. Super smart, but hopelessly paranoid."

"I see," said the general, glancing at him. "I have an uncle like that."

"Does he talk about percent chances and other realities all the time?" Lance wondered, raising an eyebrow at her.

Ferra frowned. "Perhaps not," she said, "but he is ...eccentric."

Lance hummed. He looked in the direction Pidge left. "You doing okay, Pidge?" he asked, activating the comm link between their helmets.

"Yeah," she said. "There was a tricky encryption and some weird translations since they use a mix of Galra and Nicrosilian alphabets – probably some of the Galra here intermarried with the Nicrosilian – but I think I've almost got past the firewalls."

"Great," said Lance, not quite sure what else to say to that. "If you need anything--"

"You'll hear me, Lance," Pidge said, sounding a touch exasperated. "I'm not that far."

"Right, just--"

But a loud crashing interrupted him, and when Lance shot up and ran, heedless of the pain in his knee, for the stairs, his gaze immediately fixed on the doorway across being blasted open in an explosion, metal debris flying everywhere.

"PIDGE!" Lance hobbled down the stairs as fast as he could. "Stay there," he told Ferra, who frowned in concern. "Pidge?" he said directly into his helmet. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Pidge said, huffing. Lance spotted her on the floor, her shield up and her bayard in hand. "Peachy."

"I'm coming, okay?"

"No need," said Pidge, "but...quiznak."

"What?" Lance said, alarmed. He took the last steps quickly and sprinted towards Pidge, firing at the sentries that climbed down the stairs after him. Then he saw Pidge's helmet.

A huge crack rent the visor down the middle, smaller ones spreading from it like spider webs. "Is it leaking?" he demanded as he approached.

"No," said Pidge, reaching for the bottom. "But I can't see . Quiznaking hell..."

"Wait, Pidge, what're you--"

Pidge took off her helmet and set it aside.

Lance's still told him the air wasn't safe to breathe.

"Pidge, what're you doing?! This isn't a simulator!"

"Well, that's good," Pidge quipped, her fingers moving in a blur. “You always wrecked that.” She smirked triumphantly and muttered, "Aha!"

A violet light bled into red.

"Virus uploaded," said Pidge. She coughed, and added, "I've set it to overload the system in fifteen doboshes. That should be enough time to escape." She stood, her helmet in hand.

Sentries started flooding the room, and Lance scowled. He wanted to strangle Pidge, but the carbon dioxide would do it for him soon enough.

He grabbed her hand. "Okay, let's go, now !" he said, leading her back to the stairs as they dodged blasts. "Now put on your helmet!"

"I can't see ," she complained, coughing.

"And pretty soon you won’t be able to breathe, Pidge, so put on your helmet . Do you want to end up like your brother?"

Lance knew immediately that was the worst thing he could've said, even without looking at Pidge's face. But when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw her expression was thunderous.

"Pidge," he said, heedless of the firefighting going on around them, and even tuning out Ferra's shout of Paladins! "I will trade--"

"No," said Pidge. She wrenched her hand from his grip and hefted her helmet in both hands. "Happy?" She was about to put it on, when she lurched forward.

Lance reached out, dropping his bayard, and caught her before she fell. "Pidge?" he said, frantic. "Pidge?!"

"'m fine," said Pidge, raising her head and putting a hand to the back. Her eyes locked on his face but didn't focus. "Fine, I'm putting on my helmet."

"Good," Lance said, but he caught sight of blood trickling into her hair. He breathed a sigh of relief when she securely wore the helmet, but he didn't miss the way she stumbled as they sprinted back up the stairs.

She couldn't aim her bayard properly either.

Quiznak.

"Lance, what happened?" Shiro said into his helmet. "Report! Is Pidge all right?"

"Fine," Pidge said, voice faint.

"She'll be fine," Lance said, trying to reassure himself as much as Shiro. "Just have fifteen doboshes to escape, that's all!"

"Fourteen," Pidge muttered.

They caught up to Ferra, who headed off several sentries before they overtook them. "What happened?" she demanded, gaze snapping to Pidge's cracked visor.

"Mishap," said Pidge. "I'm fine. But..." She yawned, and fear chilled Lance. "Sleepy."

"Pidge, you might have a concussion," Lance realized.

"I can...heal from that," she reassured him. She gripped his arm tightly, almost pulling him down, but she loosened her grip when he winced. "Sorry! I forgot about you-your knee."

"I'll carry you," said Lance, "but you have to stay awake. General, can you cover us? We need to hurry."

"I can...can walk," Pidge protested as he placed his arms under her knees and back.

"Not straight you can't," he disagreed. He picked her up; she was light, light enough that he felt he could carry her around all day if he had to...if he wasn't exhausted and running on next to no sleep and injured.

He took one step, but before he could crumple, Ferra slipped her arms around Pidge. "I will carry the Green Paladin," she said. "You cover our retreat."

Lance, reluctant to let someone else hold onto Pidge despite his bad knee, nodded grudgingly. "Alright, go." He turned his back to them, firing on a sentry that made it up the stairs, then followed them down the hall.

He made sure to stay close to Pidge and Ferra the entire way out, only pausing to aim at the soldiers, sentries, and drones that dared to challenge them. And everything was fine, and Pidge still spoke when prompted, and it looked like they would escape within their allotted time...until they reached their final door.

"Locked securely from the outside," Ferra said after examining it, since she had more technical expertise than Lance, and Pidge, who leaned listlessly against the wall nearby, couldn't be relied upon in her current state.

"How much time do we have?" Lance asked Pidge.

Pidge brought up the display on her cuff. "Uh..." Her eyes still drifted, and Lance wasn't sure but he thought one pupil dilated more than the other. "Th-three doboshes," she said. "B-but we need to get into the trees if we want to make it to safety before."

"Quiznak," Lance hissed, crouching beside Ferra. "Hey, Hunk buddy? I think we need your help. You available?"

"Sure," said Hunk immediately, and despite the sounds of shots fired transmitted from his end, Lance exhaled, relieved. "What's the problem?"

"I need to override a door's security," he explained. "I'm looking at the console, and it looks like it's touch activated."

"Sounds like you need a Galra soldier," said Hunk. "Or Pidge. Is she okay?"

"She's...not so good," Lance admitted.

"Oh, uh, okay, and you don't have time to get a severed arm, do you?"

"We do," Ferra said, standing and leaving.

"Uh...General Ferra is on it," Lance told Hunk.

"Well, in case she doesn't get back, open the console. If you rewire it correctly, you might be able to activate it without a spare limb."

"Right," said Lance. He followed Hunk's instructions as closely as he could, aware of the passage of time and the danger Pidge's injury posed. "You doing okay, Pidge?" he asked.

"Lance," she said softly.

"That's good, Pidge," he soothed. "Just stay awake, right?" Then, his tongue between his teeth, he found the wire he needed. "Now what?" he asked Hunk.

"Arm!" Ferra called before Hunk could respond. She shoved Lance aside and pressed the dismembered hand – Lance averted his eyes from the sight – to the panel.

Nothing happened.

"Quiznak!" Lance grumbled. "Hunk, the hand thing didn't work, and I'm not sure why."

"The rewiring is working," Hunk said, though he sounded uncertain.

"Here," said a soft voice from behind him, and Pidge reached over Ferra's shoulder to punch her bayard into the door, tearing through the metal with an electrified screech.

Lance grimaced in discomfort as he struggled to his feet. Pidge dismissed her bayard, swaying, and he grabbed her firmly by the shoulder before she could fall.

"I think...we have our problem sorted out," Lance informed Hunk.

"Good, quit dawdling!" Keith interjected. "We're all done out here anyway."

"See you soon," said Lance.

This time he resisted Ferra's attempt to take Pidge and carried her out of the base himself, gritting his teeth at the effort and the pain in his leg. "You're still awake, right Pidge?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said, her eyes not quite focusing on his face.

"Hurry," said Ferra, nudging him. "If we are not to the trees by the time the base explodes--"

They crossed the threshold of the forest as the words left her mouth. A few tics later, they were at their speeders. Another few tics, Lance heard the concussive blast of the base blowing behind them, the surrounding trees rustling in the hot, artificial wind.

"Oh, good," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He lowered his helmet's visor. "We survived."

"Idiot," said Pidge, her own visor lowering. "Still not the greatest air," she observed.

"No kidding." Lance carefully helped Pidge onto her speeder, only to realize she wouldn't be able to drive in her state when she slumped in her seat. "General, do you mind driving the green speeder? I'll take Pidge behind me."

"I can--"

"No, stop right there," Lance interrupted. "Don't be an idiot, Pidge."

Pidge grumbled under her breath, though she let him help her off the green speeder and onto the blue one behind him, while Ferra took hers, an inquisitive frown on her face. Lance led the way through the trees back to the clearing where they stashed the Lions, Pidge holding onto him surprisingly tightly, her forehead resting against his back.

Maybe, if she wasn't possibly concussed, he would've enjoyed this moment.

At the Lions, Pidge stashed the green speeder into Green and rested her hand against her paw. "I...can't pilot, Lance," she admitted regretfully.

Lance blinked at her, surprised she could confess as much. "We'll come back for her," he promised, then looked at Ferra. "I'll give you a ride to your city, but we can't stay to debrief your mother." He took Pidge's arm and slung it around his shoulders, but he almost stumbled.

"I've got you," Pidge told him, and she held him up as much as he held her.

"That is acceptable," Ferra said in response to Lance. Her gaze flicked from him to Pidge, and she smiled.

The Blue Lion lowered her jaw to accept them all in, her warmth inviting. "Hello, Blue," Lance said. He helped Pidge settle against the wall. "Stay awake."

"I'm trying," she said, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

"Hello, beautiful," Lance greeted his Lion as he limped to the pilot's seat and slumped into it. "Let's make this quick."

Blue growled and took off, and a quick glance at Pidge told him she wasn't pleased about leaving her Lion behind. But as he angled towards the capital of Nicrosil, smoking in the distance, he noticed the sun setting on the horizon.

"Beautiful," he said, smiling.

"What is?" Pidge asked.

"I'll show you on our way back."

He dropped General Ferra off with her people with a rushed promise that Princess Allura would invite them aboard the Castle soon to discuss the alliance, then soared towards the sunset. While Blue coasted, Pidge approached him and stood at his shoulder, her hand gripping it tightly.

"Oh," she said, and when he looked at her he saw her staring at the sunset. "It is beautiful." She blinked. "Quiznak, I'm still alive."

"Look at you," Lance said, smirking, "admiring something that isn't tech. And if you stay awake, I'll show you a mill--"

Pidge cut him off by pressing her lips to his.

Quiznak .

His brain short-circuited, and he felt Blue laughing at him, at least until he focused only on Pidge...and her lips...kissing his. So he kissed her back, his hand finding her cheek. When Pidge sighed, his chest filled with warmth.

Pidge pulled back, smiling softly at him, her pupils still dilated unevenly.

"Pidge," he said, "I--"

"Fuck," said Pidge. Her eyes slipped shut and she collapsed to the floor.

"Pidge!" Lance said, shooting out of his seat to crouch beside her. He turned her onto her back and felt for a pulse. Present, but faint.

His stomach clenched, heavy with dread, as he directed the Blue Lion back to the Castle.

Shiro waited in the hangar to meet Lance and climbed into Blue the moment she dropped her jaw. He picked Pidge up without any effort when he saw him struggling and said, "Keith, tell Coran to prepare a healing pod."

"He's already got one," said Keith, his voice sounding tinny coming from the speakers in Lance's helmet.

Lance followed Shiro out, slowly since his knee stiffened while he flew. "See you later, Blue," he said, voice quiet.

Blue purred, but her concern cloaked his mind like a warm blanket. Lance smiled, at least for a tic.

Hunk, still in his armor, ambushed Lance with a hug the moment he left the hangar. "Oh, buddy," he said. "You're okay!"

Lance, voice strained with the force of his embrace, said, "I'm not worried about me."

"Right, right," said Hunk, letting him go. "Except, well, you're limping."

"Yeah," he agreed, hobbling past Hunk to follow Shiro to the med bay.

"You could probably use a nap in a healing pod too," Hunk pointed out.

"Someone should tell Allura about how the mission went, Hunk," Lance said, staring at the floor. "And it won't be Pidge."

"Lance, if you don't do something about your knee," Hunk said in his 'voice of reason', "you're going to be limping for the rest of your life."

Lance halted and stared at Hunk. "I don't really care about that right now," he said.

Hunk sighed and rested a hand on Lance's shoulder. "I know, but how can you sweep Pidge off her feet when you can't even keep yourself upright?"

That gave him pause.

"I'll tell the princess what I know about your mission," Hunk offered. "Then you can fill her in when you wake up. I doubt you'll need to spend more than two vargas in a pod anyway."

Lance sighed. "Fine."

"And buddy, it wasn't your fault."

He narrowed his eyes at Hunk. "You weren't there, Hunk," he said.

"Yes, but I know you're blaming yourself," said Hunk sternly.

"For a good reason," said Lance, rubbing his eyes. Quiznak, he was exhausted, his knee stiff and his entire body filled with a bone-deep weariness such as he hadn't felt in over a year.

"Lance, get this through your thick head," said Hunk, resting a hand on the back of that thick head. "Pidge's injury is not your fault."

He didn't believe it, but said, "Fine, it wasn't my fault."

"Good," said Hunk, but Lance could tell he didn't buy it.

Hunk walked with him to the med bay, even when Lance told him he could find his way on his own – probably tagging along to make sure he actually went. There, Coran stood in front of another open pod, while Shiro, Keith, and Allura spoke quietly in front of an occupied one.

Pidge, asleep and frozen. There was still blood in her hair, staining it a darker brown. Her head was positioned angled downwards, lips turned into a frown.

Lips that she pressed to Lance's not long ago.

"Alright, in you go," Coran said, pointing to the open healing pod.

"Thanks, Coran," Lance said, forcing a smile. Hunk helped him out of his armor and into the pod.

"We'll speak when you're healed," Allura promised. She held hands with Shiro, who kept glancing back and forth between Lance and Pidge, as if torn about who needed his concern more.

As the pod closed around him, he saw them – his family – looking at him. Allura, Coran, and Hunk smiled reassuringly, while Shiro and Keith frowned worriedly.

Lance wondered which group Pidge would be in, if she wasn't also in a medically induced coma.

He stopped wondering when the cold oblivion swept him under.

Chapter Text

When Lance woke up, Shiro stood just outside the pod, waiting to catch him as he stumbled out. His memory was even slower to catch up than his body, and for a moment he couldn't remember why he needed healing at all, until he caught sight of Pidge across the room, still asleep in her own pod.

"How long was I asleep?" Lance asked Shiro.

Shiro frowned, as if that wasn't what he expected to hear. "Only three vargas," he said. "It's the middle of the night per the Castle's cycle."

"And Pidge?"

This time, he offered Lance a tired smile as he helped him to the door. "Coran promised she'll be awake in two quintants, maybe a little less." When Lance scowled at the ground, his stomach churning with guilt, Shiro added, "Head injuries take longer to heal, but she'll make a full recovery. Chin up, Lance."

"Hey, my chin is up," Lance said, injecting humor into his voice.

"Sure it is," Shiro said, actually prodding his chin with the hand that wasn't supporting Lance. "Just remember something."

"What?"

"Even the best laid plans go wrong," Shiro told him, smiling, though this time there was a trace of bitterness in it and in his voice. "No matter how easy or straightforward a mission might seem, something you don't expect will happen. Someone can get hurt, or disappear." Quietly, he reached up and ruffled Lance's hair, something his older brother might've done once upon a time.

"That doesn't mean something can't be my fault," Lance said.

"Maybe," Shiro conceded, pausing outside Lance's bedroom door, "but if someone gets hurt, and you didn't strike the blow, it is definitely not."

Lance pried himself away from Shiro, not quite ready to accept his reasoning. Of course, logically, he knew Shiro was right, but Lance never was the most logical of people, and his words didn't quite stop the memory of Pidge's concussion from replaying in his head.

"Thanks for the pep talk," he said. "I'll...keep that in mind."

"Please do," said Shiro. "And tomorrow we're meeting with the Prime Nicrosilian to debrief her on the mission."

"What time?"

"Right after breakfast," Shiro told him. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming that's enough time for you to catch up on your beauty sleep?"

Lance laughed, blushing at his one-time idol's gentle teasing. "It's going to take more than five vargas for that," he said.

"Just do your best." Shiro patted him on the shoulder, then left, heading in the direction of the bridge.

"Hypocrite," Lance muttered, and opened his door.

Inside, his room looked as usual:  clothes either lying on the floor or hanging neatly from hooks, souvenirs from different planets arranged randomly on his desk, his Blue Lion slippers poking out from underneath his bed, Pidge's green headphones – the ones he stole from her years ago – resting on his pillow, plugged into a music player from Earth that still worked.

His jacket, on the other hand, was glaringly absent, and for a moment Lance hoped Pidge took it again, until he remembered he left it in his Lion. He sighed and flopped onto his bed without bothering to change out of the pod suit. He put on Pidge's headphones and aimlessly scrolled through his music library for a few minutes, until deciding he wasn't in the mood.

He lost track of time until he finally drifted into a restless doze.

Tiny claws dug into Lance's cheek, and the chatty squeaking of a mouse filled his ear. Lance groaned, reaching up to nudge the mouse off his face, and sat up.

It was the blue mouse, he noticed, staring up at him from his pillow. "Let me guess," Lance told it, smiling through his lingering exhaustion. "I overslept."

The mouse nodded and hopped down from his bed. Lance followed suit, dashing into the bathroom to at least brush his teeth and wash the sleep from his face.

"So did I miss all of breakfast?" Lance asked the mouse, which followed him into the bathroom to perch on the edge on the faucet.

The mouse shook its head, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He dressed quickly, not bothering with any kind of 'formal' wear, and made a mental note to retrieve his jacket from the Blue Lion later. After stuffing his feet into shoes, he sprinted out of his room and down to the kitchen in time to see Keith cleaning up after the meal.

"Where's everyone else?" Lance demanded.

"Shiro, Allura, and Coran are preparing for the meeting," Keith said while he rinsed dishes in the sink, "and Hunk wanted to visit Pidge, so I volunteered to clean up." He nodded towards the lonely plate left on the breakfast table. "That's for you. Hunk tried something new last night."

Which meant that Hunk hadn't slept much either.

Instead of sitting down, Lance grabbed the plate and stared at its contents. "It looks like...stew," he said, poking at it suspiciously with his spork. "Or maybe fruit salad," he amended, unveiling a piece of something that looked like pineapple.

"It's actually good," Keith said, drying his hands.

"Why do you say actually ?"

"I mean, even Hunk didn't think it would be...palatable, is the word he used."

Lance snorted and scooped up a bit of 'fruit', and sure enough, it tasted like almost anything Hunk made from alien ingredients:  better than it had any right to be.

Keith lingered rather than leaving after finishing, and Lance, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, said, "If you want to go, I can clean up my own dirty dishware after I'm done."

He shook his head, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. "That's not why..." Keith trailed off, narrowing his eyes at Lance. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," Lance said. "Just like this fruit salad." He continued eating, waiting for Keith to say something else – anything, really, so long as it wasn't about--

"I've never seen or heard you that bad right after a mission, Lance," Keith said. "And the comms were on the entire time, so we knew--"

"I don't want to talk about this now," Lance interrupted, annoyed. He set his half-empty plate aside. "Just go to the meeting; I'll catch up with you."

"Fine," Keith said, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Be that way." But he left, leaving Lance alone with his guilty thoughts.

"Oh, what're you looking at?" he said, catching sight of Allura's mouse. "I thought you'd gone too."

The mouse pointedly rested its front paws on its hips (did mice even have hips?) and stared him down.

Lance scowled at it, something about being in a staring contest with a colorful, too-intelligent, telepathic alien rodent rankling his nerves. Then he frowned and asked it, "Do you think there's enough time for me to visit Pidge before the meeting?"

The mouse shook its head.

Of course.

Appetite vanishing as if it never was, Lance put the plate on the ground. "Share that with your friends," he told the mouse. "I have places to be."

The mouse squeaked, satisfied, and dug into the food. Briefly, Lance wondered if all this was just some ploy on its part to get him to feed it.

(Not that Allura didn't feed them more than enough already.)

When Lance slipped into the conference room for the debriefing, everyone else already stood around the table in tiny groups, chatting. Hunk spoke with a Nicrosilian man – dressed in a copper-colored robe rather than the ceremonial armor the women seemed to favor – while Coran kept a tight grip on Keith's arm as they conversed with the Prime Nicrosilian herself. Shiro, though, caught sight of Lance, offering him a small smile as he rested a hand on Allura's back to get her attention.

Allura cleared her throat, and everyone sat at the table with her at the head.

Usually Lance could at least feign interest in these meetings, but in the chair beside him sat a gaping hole where Pidge should be. He fidgeted, trying to focus on Shiro recounting the battle over the capital. The Nicrosilian man – introduced as the Prime's 'lifemate' – explained what they planned to do with the Galra captured during the attack.

Then, General Ferra spoke about the botched infiltration and destruction of the surface base, and Lance was obliged to fill in the gaps. Though to his relief, he didn't have to relive the mission as much as he feared; Ferra's recollection was thorough, but the only input she needed was for the worst part, when they separated and Pidge suffered her injury.

Lance managed to keep any tremor from his voice as he said, "Pidge successfully downloaded the virus and gave us plenty of time to escape, but..." He laughed forcefully. "We had to cut through the door to get out."

Hunk, who'd tried his best to help at the time, rolled his eyes.

"If it wasn't for Pidge, we would be dead," Lance added, exchanging a glance with General Ferra, who nodded in agreement.

"Where is the Green Paladin?" the Prime wondered, eyes flicking to the empty seat beside Lance.

"Healing," Coran said. "She'll be in there for at least another quintant, unfortunately."

Lance swallowed, his smile frozen in place.

"With that," said Allura, "I must ask your permission to remain in orbit for another one or two quintants. The Green Paladin was forced to leave her Lion behind on Nicrosil's surface, and we won't be able to retrieve it until she wakes."

"Of course," said the Prime Nicrosilian. "We are allies, per our agreement."

"Thank you," said Allura, looking relieved as if she hadn't expected that to be so easy. Maybe she thought the Prime feared they would be another occupying force after the Galra.

Politics.

The princess ended the meeting with a promise to keep in touch, although the Nicrosilians lingered for another few doboshes. And to Lance's surprise, General Ferra sought him out.

"My condolences for the Green Paladin," she said politely, bowing her head.

"She's not dead," Lance said, more harshly than he should have.

"For her injury," Ferra amended, resting a hand on his arm. "I will admit, when we first met and Princess Allura presented you as the Blue Paladin and a warrior in your own right, I was...interested."

Was this general... hitting on him? Once, Lance might've been ecstatic, but now he was just curious to see where it was going.

"But then I saw how you and the Green Paladin comported yourself together in battle," Ferra said, smiling at him, "and it is quite inappropriate to seek companionship with someone that already has a lifemate."

"Uh..." Lance said, gaping at her and blushing. "Pidge isn't my--I'm not--we're not--" But he cut himself off. Wasn't there something between them, or was it just his hopeful imagination? She did kiss him, but what if--

"We're friends," Lance insisted.

General Ferra just looked at him, one golden eyebrow raised while she smiled knowingly. "Of course," she said. "It was a pleasure working with you, Blue Paladin." She bowed her head politely again, then left with the rest of the Nicrosilian delegation, her assumptions still ringing in Lance's brain.

Hunk snatched Lance away the minute the Nicrosilians disembarked the Castle in their pod. He wrapped him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, man," Hunk said when he let Lance breathe again. "Shiro wanted to talk to you alone, and I was...cooking."

"I'm glad your culinary experiments take precedence," Lance teased, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We were all worried, Lance," Hunk said, leading him out of the room. "We still are, to be honest."

"Why?" he wondered, shrugging. "We're safe, aren't we?" Not that he believed it just yet; regardless of Shiro's and Coran's assurances that Pidge would make a full recovery, he wouldn't relax until she woke up and spoke and behaved with her usual vitality.

Hunk seemed to detect this, because he shot a glance filled with skepticism towards him.

"So what was in that weird fruit salad you made?" Lance asked before Hunk could press the subject. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, feigning nonchalance as best he could.

"Well, it was a recipe I learned from one of the Nicrosilians," Hunk admitted, brightening as he spoke. "All the ingredients were from Nicrosil. Everything's pretty iron-rich, so I guess that's good if someone's anemic."

Lance laughed. They paused outside the common room. The door was open, and when Lance peeked in, he spotted Shiro and Allura inside, lounging comfortably for once in their stressful, war-torn lives.

Allura read aloud from a tablet, but from the bright expression on her face it was nothing for business. Shiro lay with his head pillowed on her thigh, smiling as he listened to her. It was the sort of sweet sight that had envy curling in his gut, but this time...

"I'm going to visit Pidge," Lance decided, changing direction.

"You...want me to come with you?" Hunk asked.

Lance shook his head and walked down the hall, mind churning with questions, his heart heavy with more emotions than he could name. He knew it was uncharacteristic of him to forego company in favor of spending time alone, but if he sat with Pidge, even if she was unconscious, he wasn't really alone.

That was what he told himself anyway.

Lance didn't know if it was only his imagination, but the med bay seemed poorly lit compared to most of the rest of the Castle. Shadows stretched long in all directions, seeming to coalesce around the only occupied pod – and the brightest point in the room.

Inside, Pidge looked exactly the same as she had the night before:  face drawn and pale, blood crusted in her hair, with a slight frown.

Lance sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the pod. "So..." he said, at a loss of what to say for once. "You missed a Very Important Meeting."

Of course, Pidge didn't reply.

"The princess isn't angry with you though," he reassured her with a smile. "Actually, it's probably better you weren't there, since I think General Ferra tried to hit on me. And I know you've never--"

Oh.

"There's…someone else," she'd said the night of the party on Olkarion, what felt like ages ago though it had only been a few weeks, when she explained why she ended a budding relationship – and declined a marriage proposal – with another man.

Lance buried his face in his hands, stunned with realization. Quiznak, he'd lost count of how many times Pidge smacked him – whether with her own limb or a robot's – with her mouth twisted into a scowl every time he flirted with or showed interest in a woman in her hearing.

"Why?" he asked, staring back up at her. "I mean, you've said it yourself:  I'm an idiot." He gestured towards the pod, since she knew better than anyone what his idiocy could've cost her. "I have nothing to offer you."

"Checking on Number Five?"

Lance flinched, standing up the moment he heard Coran walk up behind him. "Oh, hey, Coran," he greeted with a wave and a smile. A strained one, admittedly, but he did the best he could.

Coran stood next to him, hands clasped behind his back. "So what troubles you?" he wondered.

"I'm...worried about Pidge," Lance admitted. It wasn't everything, but it was plenty.

"She'll be fine," Coran said.

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," he said, crossing his arms.

"Hmm." Coran stroked his mustache. "Is that all?"

"Pretty much."

"Still homesick for Earth?"

Lance laughed. "Every day," he said. He remembered his and Pidge's conversation on the viewing deck right before the mission.

Quiznak , he almost kissed her then. It might even have been welcome.

"You know, Number Five thinks very highly of you," Coran told Lance, tugging him from his thoughts.

"Sure," Lance said, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice. "I'm a great guy, so why not?"

"A brave Paladin, a good friend, a worthy rival--"

"So Keith finally admits it?" Lance interrupted with a smirk.

Coran flashed him a grin. "If pressed," he said.

They fell silent, Lance buried in his thoughts.

He knew he was skilled at what he did, but he also suffered his fair share of flaws – flaws that Pidge in particular could be quick to point out, to tease him about.

It hurt to think about, not just because she was so often right, but because he loved her.

"Pidge wanted to be a fighter pilot at the Garrison," Lance said once the silence became too stifling. "And she got what she wanted when this all started."

"Odd how that happens sometimes," Coran commented cheerfully. "You want something, and you get it in a way you would never expect."

Lance smiled, cheered despite himself thanks to Coran's cryptic 'old man' humor.

"And this...Garrison was the school where you trained?"

"That's the place," said Lance. "All of us were students there once." He frowned, remembering when he used to give Keith grief for 'dropping out'...until Pidge pointed out they were all technically dropouts.

"So why wasn't she a fighter pilot before?" Coran wondered, shooting him a sideways glance.

"Because of her family," Lance said. "She was in disguise, and... She can explain it better when she wakes up." He crossed his arms, not keen on sharing Pidge's backstory at the moment, but then he wondered... Would he have even met Pidge, if she entered the Garrison as a fighter pilot?

Or would he still be in the cargo pilot course? Would Pidge have been just another girl he tried to woo with a cheesy pickup line?

All questions that he was glad he didn't have an answer to. Pidge deserved better than the teenage Lance, no matter how smooth he was, no matter how young she had been too.

"I think I need a nap," Lance decided, suddenly weary in mind and in body. "Good talk, Coran."

"Oh, of course," Coran said, twirling his mustache about his finger. "I'm always happy to provide conversation to any of you Paladins."

Lance smiled at the man that was the closest thing he'd had to a father since this whole ordeal began. "Thanks," he said, turning to go. "Just let me know when you expect Pidge to wake up. I want to be there."

"I'm sure one of Princess Allura's mice will fetch you," Coran assured him.

His smile wilted slightly. "Great," he said sarcastically. "I'm looking forward to that ."

Lance's nap didn't take up as much time as he'd hoped, so after only a few vargas, he found himself wandering the Castle again.

"Spar with me," he said when he found Keith alone in the common room.

"No," he said immediately.

"Why not?" Lance demanded, crossing his arms.

Keith didn't take his eyes from the tablet in his hands. (Seriously, what the quiznak was he reading?) "You're too distracted," he said. "It wouldn't be fair."

Lance snorted. "For you or for me?"

"Both," said Keith. And then he stood up and walked out without another word.

"Rude!" Lance called after him, but he paid him no more mind.

Then he rolled his eyes and left, not paying much attention to where his feet took him, until he ended up in the Blue Lion's hangar.

Every time he came for Blue, he half-expected her to have her particle barrier up, shutting him out again. It was a fear that he tried to push from his mind, a fear that Blue herself sought to soothe, but it was something that Lance suspected would never go away completely. Which was why he sighed in relief when Blue lowered her head and opened her jaw, her happiness at seeing him warming his mind.

Lance found his jacket in a back corner of the cockpit and shrugged it on before flopping sideways into the pilot's chair, his legs hanging over the armrest. "So how's it going, beautiful?" he asked his Lion.

Blue offered him a mental shrug, and he took that to mean that she was as good as she ever was.

"I'm sorry I don't visit just to chat with you as much," Lance said with a sigh. "I guess that makes me a less than ideal Paladin, huh?"

Blue rejected that right as the words left his mouth, but she accepted his apology quickly too, full of understanding.

"Ah, you're too good for me, Blue," Lance said. "Why is everyone in my life too good for me?"

Her response to that felt like she was trying to mentally slap some sense into him.

Lance grinned, content for the first time in what felt like days. "So...what do you think of Pidge, Blue?"

Blue growled softly in a parody of cat-like laughter and flooded his mind with images, from the Green Lion alone to Pidge herself.

The first time he flew Blue, with those who would become his closest friends, as close as family, and Pidge rested her hand on his shoulder. To every time they fought together that Blue witnessed for herself. To Pidge kissing him, right here in the cockpit, before her collapse.

Lance blushed at the memory and smiled. "You think she's brave too, huh?" he said softly.

Blue rumbled in agreement.

"Nice to know you approve, Blue," Lance said. His eyes drooped, and he yawned, feeling sleepier and more relaxed than he had since before the mission. He closed his eyes, thinking maybe he'd nap more properly here surrounded by the warm, comforting presence of the Blue Lion.

The next thing he knew, something tugged at his hair, and he reached up, groaning at the ache in his back and swiping at whatever was trying to hold onto his head. "Go away, mouse," he said. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to stay away from cats?"

But the mouse, insistent, grabbed his finger and bit him. Hard.

"Ah, quiznak!" Lance said, shooting upright. "Ow." He rubbed his back and neck, stretching to try and rid his body of the ache of an awkward sleeping position. He glared at the mouse, who'd let go of him and stood on the floor, waiting. "You're lucky I know you don't have rabies," he said, pointing accusingly at the red mouse.

The mouse seemed to glare back, then stood and started for the back of the Blue Lion's cockpit. Lance stood, wondering what it wanted from him, until he remembered.

"Quiznak!" he cursed, running from the cockpit past the mouse and leaping from Blue's open jaw before she could lower it to the hangar floor. He landed on both feet, the shock from the impact traveling up his body, but he ignored the unpleasant sensation in favor of sprinting to the med bay.

"I'm here!" Lance said, bursting through the door, breathless from exertion. Coran and Shiro, the only ones already there, turned from their waiting beside Pidge's pod to appraise him.

Shiro offered him a wave. "You missed lunch," he said.

"I fell asleep," Lance admitted, catching his breath and standing between him and Coran.

Shiro looked glad to hear that, and he placed his hand on Lance's shoulder, squeezing. "Good," he said. "You looked like shit before."

Lance gasped, pretending to be indignant about Shiro's cursing, but he only rolled his eyes. So he turned to Coran and asked, "How much longer, Coran?"

"Another few tics," he replied, examining something on the display on the healing pod. "Everything looks good, so--"

A hiss interrupted him as the pod slid open, mist curling out. Pidge lifted her head, her eyes flickering open and working to focus on something. She took one step forward, but her legs immediately failed her.

This time, Lance beat Shiro to her, and he caught her before she fell. She clutched his arms with surprising strength for someone who just spent two days convalescing from a concussion.

"Good morning," he said.

Pidge let go of his arm to rub her eyes. "There are no mornings in space," she grumbled.

Which was how Lance knew she was perfectly fine.

He hugged her, relieved when she returned it without hesitation. He was even tempted to kiss her but decided it would be unwelcome in her exhausted, just-escaped-death-and-emerged-from-a-healing-pod state. But he still held her close, his arms wound tightly around her and his lips in her hair. She held him just as firmly, without a trace of weakness, her face buried in his chest and hands clutching the back of his jacket.

Shiro cleared his throat, and Pidge disentangled herself from Lance's arms to look at him. She hugged Shiro, walking to him on her own power, and he heard her ask, "Did you hear anything about Matt?"

Shiro sighed and grimaced. "Not yet."

Pidge visibly drooped. Lance reached for her, to comfort her, but Coran held him back, a hand on his shoulder and a shake of his head. He crossed his arms, sulking, but didn't try again.

"I need to get my Lion too, Shiro," Pidge said.

"That can wait till you're feeling stronger," he told her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Eat something and sleep for at least a few hours, then one of us can take you to Nicrosil's surface to pick up your Lion."

Pidge inhaled, a hint of frustration on her face, but she agreed. She walked to the med bay door unassisted, but at the doorway she paused, her hand resting on the doorframe.

Lance approached her. "Need a shoulder to lean on?" he asked, smirking.

Pidge smiled. "Do you have one I can borrow?"

"For you? I always do."

Chapter Text

Pidge didn't mention the kiss, or initiate any kind of contact that hinted that she might. And Lance worried too much about her current physical state to press it.

But the more time that passed – between helping her to the kitchen, where Hunk greeted her with a dish of Nicrosilian fruit salad and a back-breaking hug, and guiding her back to her room – when Pidge didn't bring it up, the worse Lance felt.

"I can walk on my own now, you know," Pidge pointed out when they stood at her door.

"Are you sure?" Lance said, his arm still around her. "Because I'm pretty sure if I let you go, you'll fall right into the Green Lion's hangar to update the Castle's systems ."

Pidge snorted. "I still have that to do, yes."

"Come on, just relax for a bit," he advised her. "Sleep, or take a bath, or...do something other than work since you just woke up from a coma."

She sighed but reached for the door panel. "So after sleeping for two days, I should just relax?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Though that does sound like something you'd do."

Lance rolled his eyes. She stepped away from him into her room, and he stood in the doorway, unsure. She didn't say anything until he turned to go.

"Thanks for...worrying about me, Lance," she said. When he looked over his shoulder at her, she rubbed her eyes and yawned. "You don't need to, but." She shrugged, seeming uncomfortable.

"Hey, what else are friends for? Now, are you going to sleep, or do you need me tuck you in?"

"Ugh, screw you, Lance," she retorted without any venom. She climbed into bed, but still sat up with her arms crossed as she glared at him. "Happy?"

Lance could still see old blood crusted in her hair, which hung in sticky clumps besides. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked paler than usual.

But she was fine. Fine enough that if she cared to, she should've said something about--

Lance pushed it out of his mind. "Something like that," he said. "Sweet dreams."

A strange expression crossed her face, her eyebrows furrowed and her bottom lip sticking out, her cheeks gaining some color. "Right."

Lance wanted to ask about it, but instead he backed away, the door closing automatically behind him.

Lance lost track of time somewhere between the end of their mission (sunset on Nicrosil) and Pidge emerging from the healing pod, something that was always easy enough to do when the Castle was in space, despite the regular cyclical schedule they maintained...but it was worse now since he hadn't slept a full night in days.

Which led to him walking into the common room, seeking company, in the middle of the 'night'.

"Well, all right then," he said, resigned. He flopped onto the sofa, contemplating the gaming console that he helped Pidge buy years ago, before standing up and returning to his room.

There, Lance dressed in his armor, retrieved his bayard, and headed to the training deck. He felt wired, heart pumping too fast as if he'd just chugged five espresso shots in a row – a comparison he could make thanks to a regretful experience at the Garrison. He activated the solo combat level he'd been stuck on for months, trying to at least control his breathing as his bayard morphed into the usual rifle.

He lost himself in the mindlessness of exercise completely devoid of real strategy, focusing on not taking hits but dishing them out to the drones that descended from the ceiling and the gladiators that tried to close in on him. Each Altean drone or gladiator resembled a Galra drone or sentry that once hurt one of his teammates, each one that fired at him with lasers or swiped at him with an electrified blade looked like an enemy.

But Lance felt calm, despite the pounding of his heart. Keeping a cool head in battle was something he excelled at, especially compared to everyone else aboard the Castle.

He completed the level, dispersing the last drone with a final careful shot, and terminated his training. He sat down, winded, dismissing his bayard.

"Well, that was fun," he said to no one.

"You finally got through it?"

Lance jumped, startled, and turned to see Keith standing in the doorway. He scowled. "What?"

Keith wasn't wearing his armor, though he held his bayard in one hand and his Marmora knife in the other. But to Lance, he only rolled his eyes, walked in, and sat down on the floor beside him.

"Seriously, what's your problem, Lance?" Keith said, a touch of worry in his voice. "Pidge is awake now, so...?"

"Pidge kissed me."

Keith jerked his head around, eyes wide. "Congratulations, I guess?"

Lance laughed, amused by the response.

"Also, I thought you liked Pidge," Keith continued, "so why would that make you upset?"

"It happened right before she collapsed," Lance explained, running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "And she didn't mention it after she woke up."

"She's probably exhausted," Keith pointed out reasonably. "You know how it is after coming out of a healing pod."

"Maybe," Lance said, skeptical despite the perfectly logical assumption. "But what if she regrets it?"

"Why would she?"

Lance sighed. Confiding in Keith wasn't like confiding in Hunk, who understood him better than anyone else flung far from Earth. Hunk would know what was bothering him without him trying to explain it, though he was just as quick to tell him he was being stupid. Keith, on the other hand, needed explaining...and then would also tell him he was being stupid.

"Because, Keith, it's my fault that she got hurt in the first place."

"I don't buy that," he said.

"Okay, fine," said Lance. "Maybe it's also that she's better than I deserve and her rejection would be...reasonable."

"No."

"What do you mean, no ?" Lance demanded, turning his head to stare him down.

Keith, unfazed, shrugged. He set his weapons aside, training apparently forgotten. "I think you're being stupid."

Ah, there it is.

"Besides, Pidge will tell you to your face what she thinks of you," Keith added. "And you're friends, so you know she won't go out of her way to hurt you."

"I know that," Lance conceded. He activated his shield, messing with the settings on his gauntlet out of a lack of anything to do with his hands.

"Lance, you're blowing it up," Keith said, starting to sound frustrated. "And I may not always understand either of you, but I know she likes you." He rested a comforting hand on Lance's shoulder. "Even you've figured that out by now." He narrowed his eyes, something protective in them. " Right? "

"Right," he admitted.

Not that it would stop him from worrying.

They sat in silence for a few tics, at least until Lance said, "So, Keith, when are you going to fall in love?"

Keith socked him in the shoulder for his trouble.

Somehow, Lance found himself wandering into the kitchen at the right time for breakfast, tired and sore but in an almost pleasant way. He sat down beside Hunk, who patted him on the shoulder in greeting and offered him a pastry.

"So...what's next after Nicrosil?" Lance asked Allura, who sat at the head of the table paying more attention to a tablet than to her food.

Allura looked up at him, her eyes brightening. "New Altea," she said, grinning. "And perhaps the Balmera after that. We need to resupply the Castle with some essential crystals, and I would love to see how they're doing."

Lance nudged Hunk pointedly with his elbow at that, and when he smirked, Hunk just rolled his eyes and focused on his food.

The door to the kitchen opened, admitting Pidge dressed in her green Paladin armor, eyes bright and sharp and helmet tucked under her arm.

"In a hurry to go somewhere, Number Five?" Coran wondered from his seat beside Allura.

"I want to pick up my Lion," she said, approaching the table.

Lance used his foot to push out the empty chair next to him, subtly inviting Pidge to take it, but she sat on Hunk's other side instead.

"Can you take me down after you're done eating?" she asked Hunk.

Lance frowned. "I can take you, Pidge," he offered.

Pidge barely spared him a glance, but said, "You've done plenty, Lance."

His heart dropped into his stomach, and he narrowed his eyes at her, hurt. "Fine," he muttered, picking at his food, appetite gone.

Hunk looked between the two of them, eyes wide in confusion. "Uh, sure, Pidge," he said, pushing his chair back and standing. "I can do that. But don't you want to eat first?"

"I'm not that hungry," Pidge said. "I'll eat when we get back."

"All right." Hunk took his empty plate to the sink, then he and Pidge left.

Pidge didn't once look properly at Lance.

"What the quiznak?" he said to himself under his breath.

It was Shiro's turn to clean up after the meal, so Lance didn't bother lingering. Instead he made his way to the observation deck, where he could see Nicrosil's gray-green surface below, Hunk's Lion a pinprick of yellow that disappeared underneath a cloud.

So Pidge avoided him. Why? Did she regret kissing him, like he thought? Did she blame him for an injury that could've been fatal? Was she still preoccupied by her brother's health?

(Though if she was, that didn't explain why she insisted on Hunk in particular accompanying her to Nicrosil's surface.)

Lance sighed, leaning his forehead against the cool glass of the observation window. He stared down at the planet below, straining his eyes to see if he could make out the two Lions returning.

Sure enough, within minutes he spotted the Green Lion with the Yellow Lion on its heels. They seemed to grow as they drew closer, splitting apart to fly into their separate hangars. Soon Nicrosil would be behind them, though not the memories made there.

It was sort of poetic, Lance thought, almost regretting that he never bothered to keep a journal.

Once the Lions touched down in their hangars, Allura set a course for New Altea, a habitable moon in a star system on the opposite end of the galaxy where descendants of Alteans that survived Zarkon's genocide resided. The Castle's engines rumbled beneath his feet, the mechanisms humming just on the edge of hearing.

He didn't see Pidge much for the rest of the day cycle, and every time he considered walking down to the Green Lion's hangar, where she probably worked on updating the Castle's systems like she'd been wanting to, he ruled it out. Instead, he went to the bridge, thinking he'd ask whoever was on duty there if they needed help navigating...or something.

Lance paused outside the door, hearing two feminine voices conversing just inside.

"...you, Pidge," Allura was saying. "You finished these updates much quicker than I expected."

"Well, I get bored if I have nothing to do," Pidge said. "And...worried."

"Matt will be fine, Pidge," Allura reassured her. "He'll contact you the minute he wakes up, I'm sure of it."

"Quiznak, I hope you're right, Princess."

They fell silent, and Lance could imagine Pidge messing with something at her terminal. He was about to enter, to make himself useful, but then Allura asked, "Why did you decline Lance's offer this morning?"

"Oh, I, uh, guess I haven't properly spent any time with Hunk lately," Pidge explained in a rush, "so I wanted to fix that."

"Hmm, are you sure that's all?" Allura pressed.

"Yes," said Pidge, followed immediately by a quiet admission of, "No."

"All right, what's wrong?"

"Lance seems upset about something," Pidge said with a sigh. "And I want to ask him why, but--"

"I don't believe that either," Allura interrupted. "Oh, I believe he's upset--"

Lance frowned; was he really that obvious?

"--but I don't believe that's why you would go so far as to avoid him."

Pidge seemed to consider her next works, for she didn't reply immediately, leaving Lance's imagination to run wild as he held his breath, waiting.

"I need to get over him," Pidge said softly, so softly Lance almost missed it over the sound of his thumping heart. "So I'm limiting the time I spend with him."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Pidge demanded, terse.

"Why get over him?"

"We can't all be you and Shiro, Princess," Pidge said. "I'm happy for both of you, but--"

Lance, deciding he'd heard enough, turned and walked away. His thoughts moved more rapidly than they had any right to, processing Pidge's words. She avoided him in favor of spending time with Hunk, because she wanted to get over him ? Then why kiss him?

Lance did the only thing that made sense – one thing, at least, that he could agree with Pidge on, and went in search of Hunk, finding him alone in the common room.

"For the last time, Keith," Hunk said, his back to the door, "the last few times I tried to modify Red, she smacked me. Have you ever been smacked by a giant mechanical Lion? Because it is not fun."

Lance laughed. "Uh, I hate to disappoint you, buddy," he said, "but I'm not Keith."

"Oh, thank God," said Hunk, turning around to face him with a smile. Then he frowned suspiciously. " You're not here to ask me to modify Blue, are you?"

"Blue would let you though," Lance pointed out.

"Okay, this is true," Hunk admitted. He set aside his tablet, where it looked like he was drawing designs for something, and gave his full attention to Lance. "So what's up?"

"I need to talk to Pidge," said Lance, sitting down across from Hunk.

"So do it."

"She's actively avoiding me now," he said. He leaned his head back against the sofa cushion, admiring the plain ceiling. "You talked to her earlier. Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine, I think," Hunk said cautiously.

"Let me guess," Lance said, looking up at him. "It's none of my business."

"Eh." Hunk shrugged. "Honestly, it should be. I've been telling her she should come clean to you for years."

"Come clean."

"Yeah," said Hunk, nodding. "She loves you. She's liked you since the Garrison, which I think is dedication since you weren't exactly a catch back then."

"Thanks, Hunk," Lance said, scowling.

"You're a lot better now," he amended quickly, waving his hand dismissively. "She's just tired of it. Think of it from her perspective:  you've shown almost no sign of returning her feelings, so she just wants to be done." Hunk smiled teasingly. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with you as a person."

"Tired? Aren't we all," he muttered. He absorbed Hunk's words, but much of it was stuff he'd already figured out for himself, between thinking too much while Pidge was in her pod to overhearing a conversation he shouldn't have.

"I mean, it's sort of obvious to me ," Hunk continued, "and to the rest of us probably, but I know you love her too."

Lance buried his face in his hands, groaning. "But she's trying to get past it," he said, voice muffled.

"Yeah," Hunk agreed, "but if she knew you felt the same..." Lance looked up in time to see him shrug. "Just talk to her, Lance. She might avoid you, but she won't shut you out if you approach her. You know, nicely ."

"Hey, I'm nothing if not nice," Lance retorted.

"Uh huh, sure you are, buddy."

Lance had a plan, and that plan involved confronting Pidge and settling this whatever it was between them. But first he had to find her.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he said when he found the Green Lion's hangar empty in the middle of the day cycle. "So...do you know where Pidge is?" he asked the Green Lion.

Of course, she didn't reply, and Lance scowled and left. Could she still be in the bridge then?

He walked in that direction, but as he passed the training deck, some instinct made him pause outside when he heard the sound of a simulation running. Logically, he knew it was either Keith or Shiro or both in there since no mandatory training was scheduled, but Lance still reached for the pad to open the door.

Inside Pidge stood sparring against a gladiator. She wielded her bayard as her favorite electrified grapple, but as Lance watched she shot it towards the robot, the cord wrapping around its legs. Pidge grabbed the cord with her free hand and yanked, spinning and swinging her bound enemy around the room until it collided with a wall.

The gladiator defeated, it dispersed. "End simulation," Pidge called before the next level could begin, and she walked to the edge of the room, bending down for a pouch of water.

"Usually someone has to bribe you to train," Lance observed from the doorway.

Pidge flinched, spinning around with a water pouch in one hand and her bayard in the other. When she saw it was him, she relaxed and said, "Oh, hi Lance."

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"So you don't want to talk," Lance said, disappointed. "Do you want to spar instead?"

"With you?"

"Do you see anyone else here?" he said, gesturing around the room.

Pidge squeezed her water pouch enough that a few drops leaked out from the straw. "Fine," she said. "I will spar with you, but you're not allowed to whine when I kick your ass."

"Please, Pidge, who do you think you're dealing with?" Lance teased, shrugging out of his jacket and glad that he'd worn sweatpants instead of jeans.

Pidge didn't smile, but at least she looked at him now. She dismissed her bayard, and they started circling each other. Lance couldn't help smirking, happy that he'd managed to draw Pidge out of her own head.

(She spent way too much time there sometimes.)

"So...you gonna punch me or--"

Pidge kicked out, but Lance caught her foot, moving quickly. But she was just as quick, wrenching herself free from his grip and taking a step back, out of his reach unless he lunged at her.

Which he did, using his long arms to tackle her, and this time she wasn't fast enough to dodge him.

They fell from the force of his tackle, Lance landing on top of her, his face level with her shoulder.

"Ow, quiznak!" Pidge said, lifting her head and rubbing the back of it. "Are you trying to give me another concussion?"

"No," said Lance, "I just need your attention." Ignoring the way his body heated at every point of contact between them, he rolled off her and sat up.

Beside him, Pidge did the same, her hand still on the back of her head. She glared at him. "That's not sparring," she said.

"It is and I won," Lance retorted.

Pidge rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Aw, are you that mad about losing?" He poked her shoulder.

She smacked his hand away and moved to stand, but he grabbed her by the wrist before she could.

"Wait, can we talk?" he asked.

Pidge eyed him suspiciously but nodded stiffly.

"You're shutting me out," he accused her, “which is hypocritical since you accused me of doing the same not long ago.”

"And if I am?"

"Why?" he demanded. "We're friends! And maybe we don't have to 'form Voltron' as often anymore, but we're still teammates too!"

"I'm just tired," Pidge admitted, pulling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs. She frowned at her feet.

"You don't...blame me for your concussion, do you?" Lance asked, dreading the answer.

That got Pidge's attention even more quickly than tackling her to the ground had, with her spinning her head around to gape at him. "What? No! Why the hell would I?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't blame me, do you?"

Lance shook his head. "No way, Pidge."

To his surprise, she smirked. "Do you blame General Ferra?"

He frowned. "Uh, no?"

"So don't blame yourself," she said, crossing her arms. "It's not her fault, or mine, or yours. Especially not yours. If it wasn't for you, well..." She shrugged. "I may be hazy on what happened after I got hit in the head, but I know that I'd be dead if not for you."

A hopeful, pleasant warmth filled his chest, but he snorted. "So...how many times have I saved your life?"

Pidge waved a hand dismissively. "Please, who's keeping score? This isn't a video game."

"Yes, but you have yet to emerge from a coma to save my life."

Pidge scowled at him. "I had a concussion when I tore open a door for you," she pointed out, "so close enough."

"I thought you weren't keeping score?"

Pidge reached forward and jabbed him in the arm. He laughed, glad that, somehow, the atmosphere felt almost normal between them.

"So...you're a little hazy on what happened, huh?" Lance probed cautiously.

She nodded. "I think I remember the general carrying me out, and Hunk trying to help you hack our way through a door."

"Until you literally 'hacked' it open with your bayard."

Pidge giggled. "That's one way to put it. What else? I don't remember much after that."

Lance frowned, thinking. "General Ferra drove your speeder back, and you were with me. We left in my Lion, dropped the general off at the capital, and...admired the sunset."

"That's all?" Pidge said, propping her chin on her hand with her elbow on her knee.

"That's all," Lance said.

Pidge stared at him, eyes narrowed. "What are you hiding, Lance?"

He blushed at the memory. "Oh, nothing."

"Are you sure?"

Then he blurted, "So who was your first kiss?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'll explain," Lance promised. "Just humor me, please."

Pidge sighed. She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her ankles. "Ragnar."

"I'm sorry, who ?"

(Lance probably shouldn't have been so arrogant as to assume that Pidge's first kiss was with him.)

"My Olkari 'boyfriend'." Pidge rolled her eyes, fidgeting; she was back to not looking at him.

"Ah, I should've guessed," Lance said, trying to be facetious.

They fell into an awkward silence, with Pidge staring at her hands and chewing at her lip, and Lance scrambling for some other way to bridge the yawning gap between them.

"Aren't you going to ask me who my first kiss was?" he asked, put out.

Pidge snorted. "Hunk told me it was a mermaid," she said.

"Are you saying you didn't believe him?"

"No, I'm just saying that if you had told me, I wouldn't have believed it." She flashed him a smirk to show she was teasing.

Lance grinned, leaning back on his elbows. "I take offense at that."

Pidge leaned back beside him. "Good," she said. "You probably should."

"Then..." Now or never, he thought. "Was I your second kiss?"

Pidge sat up and stared down at him. "What?"

Lance felt himself blushing as he straightened and faced her properly. "You kissed me," he said, frowning. And then it dawned on him. "You don't remember that, do you?"

"I told you," Pidge said, rubbing her face, "my brain was hazy from the moment I got injured. What happened ?"

"You kissed me in the Blue Lion on the way back to the Castle, and passed out right after." He grimaced. "Really scared the shit out of me."

" Quiznak , I thought I'd dreamed that." Pidge groaned, blushing. "I'm sorry."

"Nope, no, don't do that, Pidge." Lance grabbed her hands in both of his. "Don't you dare apologize; honestly, if you'd remembered, it would've been the highlight of the mission."

"Well, anything beats being blown up."

"Which we weren't ," Lance pointed out. On impulse, he kissed the back of her hand. "I love you, Pidge, okay? Even if you're too smart for me."

She still stared at him. "I'm not...what? Oh, quiznak. Lance, you're a--I mean, you're not , but you are ." She shook her head, then dragged herself forward so that she sat between his knees, close enough that he felt her breath against his cheek.

"Thanks," Lance said, reaching up to run the back of a finger against her cheek. His whole body was warm, comfortable with Pidge sitting so close to him. "I'll remember you said that. But, uh, you want to...redo that kiss or--"

Pidge kissed him quiet, her hands slipping out of his to hold onto his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her back while she leaned into him, everywhere they touched electrified.

When they parted to breathe, Pidge said, "I love you too, even if you are an idiot sometimes."

"Wow, thanks, Pidge. We were having a--"

She pressed her lips to his again, and he'd never been happier to shut up.

The sound of footsteps interrupted them, and Lance looked up to see Allura staring down at them, hands on her hips. "Really? In a common area?"

"I've walked in on you and Shiro making out more times than I'd like to count," Pidge retorted without moving away from where she clung to Lance.

Allura flushed and cleared her throat. "Regardless, I came to let you know that Shiro received a call from Matt."

Pidge stood up, almost knocking Lance over in her hurry. "Is he okay?" she demanded.

"Yes," Allura said, smiling. "He's asked after you, and I came to get you myself rather than sending one of the mice."

"Oh, thank God," Lance muttered, ignoring the reproachful look she shot his way.

"I'll come right now," Pidge promised. She offered Lance her hand, a wide grin splitting her face.

He took it, and as she helped him to his feet, he froze this moment in his memory.