Archive of Our Own

"So here's the plan."

Pidge leaned in so close that her hair brushed against Lance's face, and close enough that he caught a whiff of the perfume Allura gave her as a present over a year ago. Is this the first time she's wearing it? he wondered.

He pushed that thought from his head; he could fixate on that later, but for now...

"You talk to the scientists," Lance said, right into her ear.

"And you talk to the dignitaries," Pidge said, nodding. "And then later, when everyone's well and truly drunk, we chat up the military officials together."

"Exactly!" he said.

She looked up, meeting his eyes. "Good skill, Leo." She grinned mockingly at him, likely remembering him scolding her a few quintants ago for not calling him by his alias.

"And good luck to you too, Aries." Lance smiled, briefly resting his hand against the small of her back.

Pidge reached up and touched his shoulder as she walked past him. He followed her with his eyes, watching her approach a Canid scientist and ask her about the robot riding on her shoulder. Well, at least Pidge was probably having fun...

"Is it wise to separate from your wife, Leo?" someone asked from just behind him.

Lance jumped, wrenched out of his thoughts, and spun around. "Why wouldn't it be?" he demanded of Nike, the Blade that had infiltrated the Canids' moon ahead of them, worming her way into their police force as a sign of 'goodwill' by the Galra Protectorate, which was just a fancy name for the Galra Empire, Part Two.

"You know how the Canids are about their spouses," Nike said. She sipped from the glass in her hand, making a good show of pretending to drink with everyone else at the gala.

"They already think - I mean, know we're married," Lance pointed out. He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, uncomfortable. He glanced towards Pidge, doubting their plan, but she seemed fine, already in the midst of a conversation with three other people - two Canid scientists (likely also a married couple) and a Galra officer.

"Fine, if you think so," said Nike, "I'd be happy to introduce you to Minister Collie."

Lance snorted in unwitting amusement, and when Nike glanced at him questioningly, he waved a dismissive hand and said, "Sorry, I had something in my throat."

Nike shrugged, unbothered, and led him towards a Canid official in a black and white suit with long, floppy gray ears. No, this wasn't funny at all, Lance told himself, but at least it made his greeting smile seem genuine.

"Minister Collie," Nike said, tapping the Canid's shoulder. When Minister Collie turned to them, she gestured towards Lance and said, "This is Leo, my colleague from the Protectorate."

Minister Collie's brown eyes reflected light as they regarded him. "I didn't know the Protectorate had non-Galra operatives," she said.

"Oh, I'm...a quarter Galra," Lance lied, smile frozen on his face. "The non-Galra genes are very"--what was the word?--"dominant."

"Hmm." Collie still scrutinized him with the sort of focus that only a dog transfixed by possible prey could hold. She idly reached out and grabbed a glass of liquor from a passing waiter. "So what is it you do for the Protectorate?"

"I...protect it," Lance said. Quiznak, quiznak, quiznak. "From the outside. Gather intelligence, write reports, all that boring stuff."

To his surprise, the minister barked a laugh. She lapped at her drink, and then turned towards Nike. "I never met a Galra with a sense of humor, Nike," she said.

Nike shot a glance at him, and he gave her the most minuscule of shrugs. "I assure you they exist, Minister," Nike reassured her.

"Hmm, you say you're part Galra," said Minister Collie, her attention returning to Lance, "so what's the other part?"

"I--"

"Oh, let me guess!" Collie said, clicking her claws together on her free hand. "You're part human."

Lance's brain ground to a halt; they knew about humans? "You know any other humans?" he asked.

"Not personally, no," Minister Collie said. She tapped a claw thoughtfully against her jaw. "They must be fascinating though, since at least four of the Paladins of Voltron are human, right?"

Lance's heart sank, disappointed, while a prickle of fear ran down his spine. What if she recognized him then? What if she put the facts together? Why was the quiznaking Voltron Show still circulating?

Before he could ask her any other questions, his eyes fell on Pidge, who was back in his line of sight beyond Minister Collie. She stood alone, her arms crossed and face drawn into a scowl, while a male Canid spoke to her, head leaning down. They were too far away for Lance to hear, but hot, irrational jealousy still filled him, not to mention indignation that someone could insist on annoying Pidge when she so clearly didn't want to talk to them.

"Excuse me, Minister," Lance said, keeping his tone even despite his rising anger. "I need to go rescue my wife from unwanted attention."

The minister nodded, following his gaze. "Yes, by all means," she said cheerfully. "Honestly, this is why it's good to marry young..."

"Right," he said, skeptical, but otherwise ignored her as he stalked towards Pidge and the Canid.

Pidge spotted him immediately, a smile breaking out across her face. "Hello, Leo," she said, smoothly interrupting the Canid man mid-sentence. "Fenrir was just telling me about--"

Lance kissed her.

What are you doing? his mind screamed at him, though his hands cupped her face almost of their own accord, tilting it back for a better position. And maybe he would've listened to his brain, telling him it was not the right time, if Pidge didn't almost immediately kiss him back.

They parted breathlessly, and Lance barely remembered their presence at a diplomatic gala on a moon that the Galra was eye-balling for conquest. "Uh, Pi--"

"Leo!" Pidge hissed, cutting him off with a quick kiss to the cheek. Her face was flushed, but she seemed more collected than him as she withdrew from his grasp - though she kept a tight grip on his wrist, as if to hold him in place. She cleared her throat and said to the stunned-looking Fenrir, "This is my husband, Leo, since you didn't seem to believe me earlier when I told you that I'm married, you son-of-a-bitch."

Lance covered his mouth, muffling a snort, amusement and horror that she'd just insulted another party guest warring within him. "I'm sorry I interrupted your conversation, sweetheart," he said, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.

"You interrupted nothing," Pidge said, for once not expressing any irritation at the pet name. Instead, her hand slipped down into his, and she tugged him away from the offender. When they were reasonably secluded, she said without looking at him, "Talking to him was useless, by the way. I thought that, since he's the son of an engineer that couldn't attend himself, he might have information about--" She cut herself off, inhaling sharply, before wrapping her arms around Lance's abdomen. "Thank you," she said, voice muffled by his shirt. "That was...timely of you."

Lance rocked her gently and, despite the disappointment at her lack of reaction, quipped, "What else are friends for?"

---

Despite the steady encouragement of intoxicants, the gala guests - scientists, government officials, and Galra military officers alike - proved to be impressively tight-lipped, which was how Lance and Pidge found themselves in Nike's guest bedroom in the city, with Lance pacing the tiny amount of floor space while Pidge sat on the bed and worked on expanding the range of the Canid communication device that Nike had smuggled to them.

"What good will that do?" Lance asked, hands on his hips as he faced Pidge. "Who will we talk to? Princess Allura ordered radio silence unless there's an emergency, and--"

"If I can expand the range," Pidge explained with a long-suffering sigh, "I might be able to use it to contact the Galra surveillance satellite."

That shut Lance up. "Then what?"

"Then I ask for Sam Holt."

Lance stared at her, stunned into silence as he came to understand. "You're doing this based on a hunch?"

"Yup." Pidge fiddled with a few wires, doing something that Lance could barely even hope to wrap his head around. "There are rumors of a human officer in the Galra ranks," she explained, not for the first time, "and since we've so far been unable to confirm those rumors here on the moon, then--"

"And what about that makes you think he's on a Galra satellite?" Before Pidge could argue, he plowed on, "I'm sorry, Pidge. I know you want to find your dad, but what makes you think he's here of all places, other than the rumors?"

Pidge set the device aside and stood up to face him properly, putting up one finger. "First of all, unlike with Matt, I haven't found a single bit of surveillance of my father since he was separated from Matt and Shiro. It's like he"--she threw up her arms, frustrated--"disappeared off the face of the whole quiznaking universe! Second of all"--she put up a second finger--"my father is brilliant, and Lotor is the sort to take brilliance from whomever, without caring if they're Galra or not. So if he found my father and decided he was useful, why would that stop him from forcing him into his field? And third of all"--Pidge put up a third finger--"at this point, a rumor is all I have, so forgive me for pinning my hopes on it." She crossed her arms and sat back down with a huff.

Lance opened his mouth to speak, but for once he hadn't the slightest clue what he wanted to - what he should - say. "I'm sorry," he settled on, sitting down beside her. "You're right; of course you're right."

Pidge snorted, but she leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder - the sort of casual affection that had become second nature to them in all their years in space. "Yes, I am," she said. "Thank you for acknowledging it."

Lance wrapped an arm around her and rested his chin in her hair. "Well, you know what they say, right?"

"What?"

"Your wife is always right."

Pidge elbowed him, and when Lance gave an indignant ow, she laughed.

---

The room that Nike provided them barely fit a low sort of cot - a 'nest', Nike called it - large enough to sleep two people, and that was fine since their combined wariness - and Pidge's constant combing of the Canids' and local Galra communication channels for information - kept them on edge. Neither of them got much sleep, least of all at the same time.

Naturally the evening after the gala was the one they wanted to sleep at the same time.

"Why, exactly, did Keith feel the need to tell Nike we actually are married?" Pidge demanded.

"Because it's Keith," Lance offered, which wasn't an explanation that Pidge would accept, but it was enough to satisfy him, at least.

They stood at the foot of the 'nest', staring down at it. Lance's thoughts drifted to the kiss, which they had yet to discuss properly, like the adults they were.

But if Pidge wouldn't mention it, then that was perfectly fine with Lance. No, he definitely didn't want to think that her enthusiasm was faked for the benefit of the Canid harassing her, anymore than he wanted to think about how much he wanted to kiss her again.

(And he did; oh, how he did.)

Lance glanced sideways at Pidge. "I can sleep on the floor?"

Pidge shrugged. "It's fine," she said, sighing. "It was only a matter of time until we had to share the bed."

"I'm so glad that's so unappealing, sweetheart," Lance couldn't resist scoffing.

To his surprise - unlike the last time he'd made a similar comment - Pidge didn't get annoyed. No, she only frowned and asked, "Is that really what you think?"

Yes, he thought, but out loud he said, "Please, I'm just joking." To show he meant it, he forced a laugh.

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical, but to his relief she didn't question him. "Well it's not very funny." She turned her back to him and rummaged through their belongings - when did they get so mixed up? - for a set of pajamas.

Wanting to give her privacy, Lance mumbled something about going to the bathroom and shoved the door open, letting it swing shut on squeaky hinges behind him. It was remarkable, really, how low-tech the Canids' homes were, but when Pidge made that observation to Nike on their first quintant on the moon, she'd admitted that she lived in the slum.

If this is a slum, Lance thought after he'd washed his face with warm water, I'd hate to see what Nike and the Canids would think of the slums on Earth.

It was only when he stood outside his and Pidge's bedroom again that he realized he forgot his pajamas inside. He sighed and muttered, "I guess I can sleep in my clothes."

Pidge opened the door. "Did you say something?" she asked.

"Give me my pajamas," he said, holding out his hand to her. "I forgot them."

"Just change in here," she said, stepping aside to let him in. "I'm done."

"But you--"

"Going to the bathroom." She sidestepped him and walked down the hall without another word, leaving Lance to wonder why he had to try so hard to make things awkward when they obviously weren't.

Pidge returned within a few minutes, after Lance finished changing out of his dress clothes, but rather than settling into the bed-nest-thing to sleep like he expected her to, she brought the communication device with her.

"Seriously?" he said, standing over her with his hands on his hips. "I thought you were actually going to sleep at a reasonable time."

"Well, I was, but I had an idea."

Lance sighed and sat down beside her. "Fine, let's hear it, and for your sake, I'll pretend to understand what the quiznak you're talking about."

"Gee, thanks," Pidge quipped, rolling her eyes.

Lance smiled and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows and throwing his head back. "Tell me all about it, sweetheart."

"Stop calling me that, Lance," Pidge said.

"Why? We're married, aren't we?"

"Not really," she pointed out. She started fiddling with the exposed wires, reaching into the equipment bag open at her bedside and rummaging for some tool. "I mean, fine, when we're around others, it makes sense, but we're alone now." Her cheeks turned the faintest shade of red, and she didn't look at him.

Lance cleared his throat, feeling his own face heat up. "It's just a pet name. Isn't Pidge a nickname?"

"There's a difference between a nickname and a cutesy pet name given to me by...you."

He rolled his eyes and sat up, leaning towards her to look over her shoulder at what she was doing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

If he drifted just a bit closer, he could smell the perfume that still lingered on her skin...

Lance leaned away instead, and Pidge shot him a look. "It just feels different," she said. Before Lance could retort, she finally set aside her device and laid down, dragging the blankets up to her chin. She rolled onto her side so that her back was to him and said, "Good night, Leo."

The alias stabbed him in the gut, reminding him why they were here - and how. He and Pidge weren't married, anymore than they were entangled romantically, no matter how much he might want to be. It was just a facet of the mission, something that allowed them to move through Canid society more easily than if they were two single people.

And besides, Pidge had other things on her mind, namely finding her father.

Lance turned off the bedside lamp - a luxury, Nike claimed warningly when she loaned it to them - and snuggled into bed, pretending that the sound of Pidge's breathing didn't fill him with longing.

Instead, he allowed her warm presence beside him to comfort him, and he smiled as he fell asleep.

---

"It's not too late to end our vacation, sweetheart," Lance said while he and Pidge anxiously waited for some kind of acknowledgement of the query she sent to the Galra satellite orbiting the moon.

She declared the modifications she made to the device complete early that morning, when he woke up and found her already upright, dressed, and working on it. He, on the other hand, wasn't woken by a pressing matter so much as the sun shining through the bedroom window.

"It's nice sleeping somewhere and being woken up by sunlight," Lance had said on the first morning of their mission.

Pidge, still not much of an early riser unless she had something urgent to occupy her mind, had only grumbled, but she managed a bright face when Nike came to check on them and announce that they were heading up to the capitol building that morning.

"It's not too early to find what we're looking for, darling," Pidge corrected him with a spare triumphant grin.

Lance blinked, surprised, as his face warmed; it was the first time Pidge treated him to his own medicine.

A burst of static from the device spared him the need to respond, and Pidge held it up to her face and calmly said, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"From what station are you calling, Cadet?"

Cadet. Lance rolled his eyes, though he supposed that was technically their rank at the Garrison, Voltron shenanigans notwithstanding.

"Zeta Station," Pidge said, her script already prepared. "I'm calling from Zeta Station in the third quadrant."

The correspondent on the other end didn't reply, and Lance held his breath, waiting. Pidge grabbed his hand, her fingernails digging into his skin.

"What is the name of your commander, Cadet?"

Lance exhaled in relief while Pidge replied, "General Fenrir Yard." When he raised an eyebrow at her, she muttered, "Different guy. It's a pretty common familiar name here."

Lance snorted but he couldn't help cracking a smile, despite the tense situation.

"And what information does General Yard need?" they asked.

Pidge grinned, but from the way her fingers tightened around his she knew the mission wasn't accomplished. "Captain Yard wants to speak to Sam Holt."

"Very well," the correspondent said almost immediately. "I'll connect you to him." The static quieted as the call was changed to a different frequency.

Pidge stared at Lance, her eyes wide. "Lance," she said, "that could be--that is my dad."

He could barely believe it either. "I-I know, Pidge," he said, squeezing her hand. "Just...they're probably monitoring the call."

Pidge rolled her eyes. "I know; I'm not an idiot." Her face fell. "He's a prisoner, Lance, and the sort that only officials with a high security clearance would know about. So if--"

"General Yard?" a male voice asked. "It's Sam Holt speaking."

Pidge cut herself off, a hand covering her mouth to muffle a gasp. "It's D--Sam Holt," she said.

"Yes? You needed to speak to me?"

Pidge withdrew her hand from Lance's grasp to cradle the communication device as if it was a precious, fragile thing. "Yes," she said. "I just need you to answer a question for me." She looked up, meeting Lance's eyes, and despite the unshed tears building in the corners of hers, she didn't falter.

Lance nodded, resting a hand on her shoulder and giving her silent reassurance.

"What question, sir?"

"What is your daughter's zodiac sign?"

Lance heard the confusion in Commander Holt's voice when he automatically replied, "Aries. What does this have to--"

"Be ready, Sam Holt," Pidge said. She inhaled sharply and clicked off the device before Commander Holt - her father - could say anything else. The device slipped from her fingers, landing on the floor, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead she reached up and wiped her eyes.

Lance gave her a minute to collect herself, rubbing her back in slow soothing circles. "What do you want to do now?" he asked quietly.

Pidge looked up at him, her face tear-stained. "What do you think?" she asked.

"We're going to bust him out?"

She grinned, something mischievous in it as she said, "We're going to bust him out. But first we need to get to the satellite..."

---

"This is officially the worst thing you've ever forced me to do," Lance told Pidge, not for the first time since they hatched the plan to infiltrate the Galra surveillance satellite.

"Please," Pidge said, her voice sounding a bit tinny through the ear piece he wore, "you were born to play this part."

Lance sighed as he stood outside Minister Collie's office, where one of her bodyguards kept watch at the door, sizable fangs poking out from between his lips and gleaming. "Which part involved me getting mauled by a man-sized German shepherd again?" he asked.

"Come on, Loverboy Lance," Pidge teased. "Where's that confidence, that charisma?"

"Pidge, she is a government official, and twice my age."

"So's Allura," Pidge pointed out, tone considerably less teasing now. "Actually, she's definitely way more than twice your age. Now go in there and work your magic!"

Lance allowed himself a grumble, but then he steeled himself, straightening his posture and approaching Collie's bodyguard. "Hello, good sir," he said, smiling at him. "I'm an acquaintance of Minister Collie's, and I'd like to speak with her."

The bodyguard pulled back his lip warningly. "Do you have an appointment?" he asked.

Lance smirked. "As a matter of fact, I do." He showed the guard the note the receptionist gave him downstairs. Nike helped him arrange the meeting that morning, and according to her Collie was so charmed by him at the gala that she agreed without much pressing.

(Pidge laughed so hard she started wheezing; if Lance wasn't so annoyed he might've gotten worried.)

The bodyguard scrutinized the note - written in the Canid script, which looked like incomprehensible chicken-scratch to Lance - and reached back to knock on the office door. At a word from within, he cracked the door open and said, "You're expecting a Galra named Leo, Minister?"

"Part-Galra," Lance corrected.

The bodyguard ignored him, but at a quiet word from the Minister, he pushed the door open wider and nodded towards the room. "She will see you now, Leo."

"Thank you, good sir," Lance said, unable to resist bowing mockingly towards him.

He growled softly, but closed the door once he stepped inside.

"Good day, Leo!" Minister Collie greeted him brightly, standing up behind her screen and paper-littered desk. "I was hoping we'd meet again before you left. But where is your charming little wife? I was hoping to meet her too!"

Lance had to fight a smile at Pidge's indignant snort, instead composing his face into an expression of solemnity. "Well, that's the thing, Minister," he said, taking the chair across from the desk. "I hoped to speak with you alone."

Collie blinked at him, surprisingly long doggy eyelashes casting shadows across her snout.

Lance's mouth dried, palms sweating unpleasantly. He couldn't plan flirting; it just sort of...happened. He had to go with the flow instead.

What did Canids consider flirting anyway? Smiling? Sniffing each other's butts?

(Which was definitely not an option for Lance.)

Plus, he needed to be subtle; just a few quintants on their moon showed him that Canids weren't as prone to - and much more openly disdainful of - cheating on their spouses. So Lance could easily offend Minister Collie by being too blatant about his...'intentions'.

Well, Pidge was counting on him, so he swallowed his pride - and his inhibitions - and leaned against the minister's desk.

"Collie - can I call you Collie? - I have a confession to make," he said, deciding to wing it.

"Oh, yes?" She looked at him, openly curious and quite unlike what he thought politicians were supposed to be.

"It's been so long since I've seen another human," he said, "other than my own wife. But you, well..." He trailed off, meeting her eyes.

"What about me?" she asked. She neatly folded her hands - paws? - on the desk and appraised him.

"We have this connection, you and I," Lance said, ignoring Pidge's muttered oh my God in his ear. "You wanted to know more about me at the gala, but unfortunately you didn't have the opportunity." He smiled winningly at her. "So tell me..." He rested his elbow on the desk and batted his own fairly long - or so he liked to think - eyelashes at her. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Minister Collie stared at him, her tail thumping against the floor. "Leo, are you trying to bribe me?"

Lance's jaw dropped. "What? No!"

"Lance," Pidge hissed. "It's an out. Go with it!"

"Yes!" said Lance then. "That's exactly what I'm doing!"

To his surprise, the mellow Minister Collie snarled at him with the ferocity of the wolf she resembled. "Then get out of my office!" She pointed towards the door. "I won't be lumped in with all my other corrupt colleagues, being bribed by the Galra so they can worm their way into our society, conquering us so quietly that we won't notice until we start intermarrying. Now go, before I call security!"

Lance froze, shocked by her tirade. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, no you don't!" Collie stood up, slamming her palms against her desk. "It's not been so long since the Empire fell that I don't remember what it was like, even if they never bothered this corner of the universe. Now--"

"I'm not Galra."

"Lance," Pidge muttered in warning.

Lance ignored her. Winging it, he told himself. This is what 'winging it' means. "Minister Collie," he said before she could react to his admission, "I'm not part-Galra. I mean, I do have another human friend that is, but I'm not."

He expected the minister to boot him out of her office anyway, but she sat again. "How do you know Nike?" she asked instead.

"The magic of networking," Lance joked, but when Minister Collie continued to look unimpressed, he amended, "That's kind of a long story, but my wife and I are actually--"

"Paladins of Voltron," Minister Collie finished for him.

"Oh, quiznak," Pidge said.

Minister Collie's ear perked up, turning towards him. "And you're wearing an earpiece."

Lance swallowed, chuckling nervously as Pidge practically shrieked quiznak. "You caught us," he said.

"Are Leo and Aries even your real names?" the minister wondered. "Are you and Aries even married?"

"No," he admitted, "but I wish we were." Wait, he hadn't meant to say that.

"What?" squeaked Pidge.

The minister's ear twitched, but she ignored Pidge. "What are you doing here, Leo?" she asked.

At this point, Lance saw no reason to tell her his or Pidge's real names. Instead he smiled apologetically and said, "We need to go to the surveillance satellite orbiting your moon."

"And what is it you intend to do there?"

"Well, we're looking for another human held there against his will."

Minister Collie stared at him, thinking, while Lance held his breath. Even Pidge was so silent he worried she'd removed her microphone.

"Very well," Collie agreed, "but on one condition."

"Yeah?" Lance said, smiling in relief.

"Any trouble you meet, anything you get up to, doesn't come back to me." She sighed, scratching behind her ear. "I have enough problems with the Galra without adding to it, you understand."

Lance grinned, unable to resist winking. "Perfectly."

---

"I can't believe that worked," Pidge said as they - and Nike - headed towards the shuttleport.

"I can't believe you befriended the only Canid minister not under the Protectorate's thumb," Nike said, sounding both stunned and impressed.

"Hey, it's all thanks to you, Nike," Lance pointed out, clapping her on the back. He glanced at Pidge, smiling at her, but she didn't look at him.

She hadn't looked directly at him since before he went to see Minister Collie, not even when he'd shown her the minister's signature on their new security clearance.

(She'd smiled though, and it was enough for warmth to bloom in his chest.)

"So what's the next stage?" Lance asked once the three of them stood in the entrance of the shuttleport where they 'parked' their pod upon arrival on the moon.

"We infiltrate a Galra satellite," said Pidge, staring at the small disk in her hand that contained their ticket to space.

"This won't end well," Nike said ominously.

"Sure it will," Lance said brightly. "We'll sneak onto a Galra base, find the person we're looking for, and sneak back out. We've done this so many times we could probably do it in our sleep."

"We've never done it like this before," Pidge pointed out, shooting him a skeptical glance.

"True," he conceded, shoulders slumping. "Usually we go in with Lions blazing, but that's obviously not gonna work this time."

"Yeah." Pidge grabbed his wrist, fingers warm against exposed skin, and towed him inside.

---

The pod launched, escaping the moon's atmosphere and rapidly approaching the surveillance satellite in orbit, and Lance took advantage of his and Pidge's brief moment of privacy inside the cockpit and said, "I think we should talk about what I said when--"

"Not now," Pidge cut him off, averting her gaze away from him.

Lance bit back his frustration and retorted, "Why not? It's important!"

"I didn't mean never, Lance," Pidge said. She finally looked at him properly, for the first time in what felt like way too long, eyes soft while she shot him a small smile. "Later, please."

His heart skipped a beat, and he said, "All right, later."

Before either of them could say anything else, the viewscreen displayed a transmission received from the satellite. Pidge allowed the transmission to play, and a voice said, "State your name, rank, and business, and transmit your clearance for review."

Lance set up Minister Collie's holodisk and recited, "Our names are Captain Leo, Sergeant Aries, and Sergeant Nike."

"Why do I have the lower rank?" Pidge grumbled, crossing her arms and slouching.

Lance smirked but continued, "We were sent for an inspection by Minister Collie." Pidge scanned the clearance badge and sent it to the satellite.

"We have no ministry inspection scheduled," said the soldier on the other end of the transmission.

Lance tugged on his collar and glanced at Pidge, who shrugged. "We're a surprise inspection," he said, "here to make sure you stay on your toes."

"I'm...not familiar with that expression, Captain."

Pidge muffled a giggle with her hand, and Lance flushed, alarmed. "It's a...Canid saying," he lied.

"Very well, your clearance checks out," said the soldier, ignoring Lance's clarification. "Welcome aboard, Captain Leo and Sergeants Aries and Nike." The transmission clicked off.

Lance smiled, relieved, and steered the pod towards the satellite's hangar entrance. The doors opened slowly, and he flew them in until he could land in a space clear of other spacecraft.

Once the hangar doors slid shut, an indicator in the pod declared the atmosphere inside the hangar safe, and Lance and Pidge stood and moved to the back of the pod to find Nike prepared to disembark, a blaster at her hip. She handed Lance and Pidge one each.

"I know you Paladins have your bayards," she told them, "but it will be suspicious if you're not carrying any obvious weapons. And if it does come down to a fight, it might be better if they can't immediately figure out you're Paladins of Voltron."

Lance and Pidge exchanged glances. "Good thinking, Nike," said Pidge, grinning sheepishly as she hooked the blaster into her belt.

"Yeah, thanks." Lance could feel his bayard, just out of reach and waiting to be summoned, but he was grateful to hold a weapon in his hands.

He just hoped they wouldn't have to use it.

"And now we start our inspection," said Pidge, clutching an information tablet close to her chest. "Ready?" She shot them each a glance, though her eyes seemed to linger on Lance a few tics longer than necessary.

"Born ready," Lance said, and he followed her and Nike out of the pod and into the hangar.

A Galra officer was there to greet them, trailed by four sentries and a drone. He saluted and bowed his head. "Vrepit sa, Captain. My name is Sergeant Uxor and I will be your escort." His yellow eyes swiveled from Nike, to Pidge, to Lance, and he didn't express any surprise at finding two non-Galra amongst the boarding party.

Lance, since he had the highest fake rank, took point and said, "At ease, Sergeant." His voice sounded calm to his ears, at odds with the blood rushing in his head. He glanced at Pidge, who wore a grim expression that seemed appropriate; if they had an escort on the satellite, it would be difficult to smuggle Commander Holt away.

Sergeant Uxor led them out of the hangar and into the satellite proper, down hallways lit violet and red; the Galra had a very consistent aesthetic, despite the fall of the Empire and the rise of the Protectorate. And Lance had to count their blessings that Minister Collie's clearance held up to such scrutiny, since Sergeant Uxor didn't question them too closely.

(Good thing they wore disguises.)

Lance clasped his hands behind his back, trying to mimic the posture he often observed on stoic military officers, while Sergeant Uxor showed them around the satellite.

"What exactly is it you are inspecting, Captain?" he asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

Lance blinked and looked at Pidge, who nodded and adjusted her glasses. She cleared her throat and said, "We're looking to make sure your communication channels are secure. There are rumors that Voltron is in the area, and we wouldn't want them intercepting confidential communications with the Protectorate's headquarters." She smiled at the Sergeant, something sharp and almost predatory in it, and Lance suppressed a shiver, thankful it wasn't being directed at him.

To his credit, Sergeant Uxor didn't react beyond a twitch of his eye. "Of course, Sergeant," he said. "Our main surveillance center is this way." He took them deeper into the satellite, deep enough that Lance grew anxious about being so far away from their means of escape.

Calm, he told himself. Everything is fine, and the Castle is just a distress signal away.

He hoped it wouldn't come to that though.

Nike was a silent shadow at his shoulder, the perfect image of a stoic Galra soldier, but Lance guessed that was thanks to her training as a Blade. As Pidge drew ahead of them, closer at the heels of Sergeant Uxor, Nike muttered to Lance, "I do not like the look of that drone."

He narrowed his eyes at the robot in question, how it hovered over Uxor's head...and how it turned to scan Pidge, and him, and Nike. "We have time," he reassured Nike despite a prickle of fear making the hair on the back of his neck rise. He walked a little faster to position himself closer to Pidge.

Uxor finally took them into a wide open room where at least ten Galra soldiers monitored communications and transmissions between the Canids' moon and the greater universe. A few spoke in low voices to someone on the other end of a transmission, querying approaching ships that wished to land on the moon, a problem that he and Pidge encountered on their own approach.

(Pidge had bluffed their way through it then, claiming they were newlyweds on their honeymoon that wished to see the sights of the famously beautiful and wealthy moon, and thanks to the holographic documents Kolivan and Nike forged for them, it worked.)

"This is our main surveillance center," Sergeant Uxor said, gesturing around the room at large and towards the viewscreen that faced the moon far below. "From here we monitor all communications coming to and from the Canids' moon; not a single transmission comes in or goes out without our knowledge."

Pidge scanned the room, her lips turning downwards into a frown almost too subtly for him to notice. "How do you communicate with Protectorate headquarters?" she asked, glancing at Uxor.

"There's a separate room for that," Uxor admitted. "It does not require as much personnel."

"Take me--I mean, us there first."

Uxor looked at Lance questioningly, and he nodded. The Galra soldier frowned but withdrew with them right behind him. Lance glanced back over his shoulder into the room and considered; this center was the reason Allura had mandated radio silence while on their mission.

Sergeant Uxor turned a few corners, enough that Lance soon lost track of their position relative to the hangar, which...could be a problem. But they finally arrived at a much smaller room, one without a viewscreen, that allowed Pidge to more directly access the satellite's systems - or so Lance assumed.

Nike stood guard over the room's entrance while Lance followed Pidge and Uxor more closely, watching. Pidge accessed the systems with the ease he'd come to expect from her, and he couldn't suppress a proud smile.

"What are you doing?" Uxor asked Pidge.

"I'm looking for your personnel files," Pidge said easily. She scanned through file after file. "Minister Collie has reason to suspect you have a spy aboard."

"That...can't be," said Sergeant Uxor, blinking slowly at her. "Everyone who serves aboard is not only subjected to a thorough background check, but also monitored closely by their peers."

Lance raised an eyebrow at him from behind his back. Stifling, he thought.

Pidge laughed. "Sergeant, I never said the spy was spying on you."

"Then what did you mean, Sergeant?"

"Captain Leo, would you mind clearing the room?"

Lance blinked at her, surprised, but decided to follow her lead. "Sergeant Uxor, would you mind clearing the room?"

The two soldiers in the room stood at attention, and Uxor narrowed his eyes at Lance. "May I ask for what purpose?"

"These aren't all your personnel, Uxor," Pidge commented, turning to face him, "are they?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Uxor said, looking alarmed for the first time.

"Who is your commanding officer?"

"That would be General Jork," said Uxor. He took an involuntary step away from Pidge and Lance.

"Take us to him," said Pidge, smiling dangerously at him. "Or better yet, bring him here."

---

General Jork was surprisingly short for a Galra, though he was still at least a few inches taller than Lance, and what he lacked in height he made up for in breadth, his shoulders so broad he had to shuffle to fit through a doorway. But of course, that didn't stop him from sweating when Pidge claimed his personnel files were incomplete.

"Of course they are!" he retorted, glaring at her through slitted eyes. "Who else--"

"Sam Holt," Pidge said. She brought up a file on the holoscreen. "His personnel record was triple encrypted, which makes me wonder: what else are you hiding?"

"Nothing!" General Jork said. "Chancellor Lotor wanted him here; I don't know why, though."

Lance found himself believing General Jork, and when he glanced at Pidge, he could tell that, from the confused frown on her face, she believed him too.

Before they could contemplate further though, a red light flashed on the holoscreen. "Oh, quiznak," Pidge hissed, eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"I missed an alarm while decrypting the file," Pidge said. She turned back to glare at the general. "Who does this alarm alert?" she demanded.

The general stepped closer to her, wary despite her being less than a third of his size, and leaned in. "Oh," he said, eyes widening in alarm. "Oh, no."

"What?" Lance said, hand going to the blaster at his belt. "Tell us."

"This alarm goes straight to the Protectorate's headquarters," General Jork said, clasping his hands together and holding them to his chin. "The Chancellor is coming."

Pidge stared at Lance, her mouth dropping open, and he stared back. "It was a trap," she said, voice thick with reluctant realization. Together they turned to Nike, whose natural stoicism had finally cracked.

"Call the Castle," Lance told her. "Or, better yet, I'll do it. You go find your dad."

"But if we split up--"

Lance touched her shoulder so that she looked at him. "Pidge, I'll follow you as soon as I'm done," he promised. "Take Nike with you and go, okay?"

Pidge met his eyes, but after a few heart-stopping tics, she nodded. "Okay," she said. She turned and pointed to General Jork. "Take me to Sam Holt, and you"--she pointed at Sergeant Uxor--"unless you want to eat my bayard, help him send out a distress signal." She summoned her bayard and it morphed into the grapple, flashing with electricity. Then she glared General Jork out of the room, following him closely.

"You will be all right here, Paladin?" Nike asked.

"P-paladin?" Uxor sputtered, eyes rapidly swiveling from Nike to Lance.

So the jig was officially up. Lance summoned his own bayard, which fit his hands more comfortably than a random Galra blaster ever could. "Yeah, I'm sure the sergeant and I will be best friends," he said. "Please go with Pidge."

"Very well," said Nike, and she left the room.

"So," said Lance, his attention returning to the alarmed Sergeant Uxor, "how do I send a distress signal?"

Uxor activated a hollow screen. "What frequency?" he asked, voice trembling. When Lance told him, he sent the signal, and within a dobosh Coran's static-filled voice rang through the room.

"...an undisguised Galra signal!" he was saying, sounding alarmed. "What could--"

"Coran," Lance interrupted. "It's me, Lance."

"Number Three?" Coran said, his voice coming in clearer as he got closer to the microphone. "Is that you? What the quiznak are you doing sending a Galra signal?"

"Uh, well..." Lance trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "We kind of have a problem."

"What is it, Lance?" Allura's voice entered the conversation. "It must be an emergency if--"

"Yeah, actually, it's worse," he said. "We're going to have company soon." He looked at Uxor and said, "Send our coordinates."

Uxor sighed and muttered, "Yes, sir."

"The 'sir' is nice," Lance was unable to resist quipping, "but unnecessary." To Allura and Coran he said, "Pidge found Commander Holt, but it was a trap. Lotor's on his way."

"Oh, quiznak," Allura hissed.

"You're telling me," Lance said, rolling his eyes. "So...?"

"We're on our way to intercept him," Allura reassured him. "Coran, locate those coordinates. And Lance, until we get there, be safe."

"I'll try my best," he said, cutting off the transmission. It wouldn't be long, he supposed, but Lotor could access wormholes too, which meant--

Lance turned to the quivering Sergeant Uxor, hefting his bayard. "Unless you want to eat the Green Paladin's bayard," he said, smirking as he remembered Pidge's threat, "you'll take me to her."

Uxor frowned. "Yes, sir."

---

They caught up with Pidge quickly.

"I called," Lance told Pidge once he stood in front of her, barely paying the others any mind. "They're on their way."

"Great," said Pidge. She grabbed his hand. "My dad is--Lance, my dad is here." Danger aside, she grinned and pulled him down the hall.

With a sigh and after a glance at Pidge's bayard, General Jork pressed a hand to the panel beside a secure door. "Holt?" he said as it opened. "There's someone here--"

"Dad!" Pidge called, barely past the broad general.

"Who--Katie?"

The general stepped aside, affording Lance a view of the long-awaited reunion. Commander Holt looked exhausted and way too thin, face drawn and pale, elbows and knees knobby, but he smiled as he clutched his daughter to his chest with surprising strength.

They separated, Sam Holt's hands on Pidge's face as he looked down at her. "How--"

"There's no time to explain now, Dad," Pidge said regretfully. "We have to leave, now."

"I--yes, we do," said Commander Holt with a surprising briskness. Pidge tugged him out of the small bedroom. When he stood in the hallway, his eyes fell on Lance and widened. "Another--who are you?"

"I'm--"

"That's Lance," Pidge said. "He's my teammate, and my...friend." The hesitation in her voice belied the soft smile on her face when she looked at him, and Lance didn't feel too let down.

But they did have places to be.

"Okay, now that we have who we came for," he said, taking Pidge's other hand without a second thought - like, oh, quiznak, that's the love of my life's father - "let's blow this Popsicle stand."

The floor jerked underneath them, causing them all to stumble.

"Poor word choice," Lance hissed. He pressed a hand to the wall to keep his balance as a second tremor shook the satellite.

"We're under attack!" General Jork cried. "Uxor, go alert the fighter pilots. Send them out, and--"

Another Galra soldier sprinted down the hall towards them, a drone trailing in their wake. "General," she said, saluting him half-heartedly in her alarm, "we're under attack by--"

"I know, you idiot!" Jork raged, throwing up his hands right as another blast almost sent him tumbling to the ground.

"No, sir," the soldier insisted, "we're under attack by Galra soldiers."

"What?"

Lance decided there was no time to waste and started running, tugging Pidge and Commander Holt along with him, Nike keeping pace beside him. "Do you remember the way back to the hangar?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said.

"Good because I don't," said Lance. "You lead the way."

Nike was in front of him with a few rapid strides of her longer legs, leading them past frantic Galra soldiers and engaged sentries. The satellite still shook, alarms blaring and flashing red all along the hall. A speaker crackled into life, calling for the Galra fighters to take flight and engage the attackers.

They entered the hangar along with pilots still struggling to put on space suits and helmets, right as another blast hit the satellite. The lights all flickered off, only dim red emergency lights remaining, and the ground slipped out from underneath Lance's feet.

The artificial gravity generator broken in the power outage, Lance floated aimlessly, the only thing tethering him his grip on Pidge's arm, Nike scrambling for purchase a few feet ahead. "Quiznak," he said.

"Lance, I need you to let go of my arm," Pidge said.

"What? No way!" he said. "You'll float away!"

"No, you'll float away," Pidge argued. "Now let go of my arm and hold onto my waist."

"What?"

"Trust me!" Pidge insisted irritably. "Dad, you too."

Lance had almost forgotten Commander Holt was there, but the reminder was enough to snap him out of his near-panic. He let go of Pidge's arm and wrapped an arm around her waist before he could drift away, Pidge's father mirroring him on her other side. Then she summoned her bayard.

"Oh," Lance said, smiling sheepishly.

"I told you to trust me," she retorted with a smug smirk. She shot the grapple towards Nike, winding it around her waist, and used the momentum to tug them towards her. "Hold onto me," she told Nike.

Once Nike gripped the back of her shirt, Pidge shot the grapple at a strut in the wall, and strut by strut she pulled them towards the pod, which also drifted a few feet off the ground. Lance glanced at Pidge, enraptured by the concentration on her face - an expression she wore when encountering any problem that required her full attention.

Lance used the key in his cuff to open the pod's doors, and Pidge pulled them in. Once the door closed behind them, the pod activated its own artificial gravity, and they fell in a heap to the floor.

Pidge laughed and hugged Lance. "Thank you," she said.

Lance hugged her back, smiling. "We're not out of it yet," he warned her. Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from her arms and said, "Everyone strap in. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

"Especially with you piloting," Pidge quipped. "This isn't a simulator, you know."

"Good thing," Lance said, shooting a smirk over his shoulder. "I always wrecked that."

"What?" Commander Holt said, sounding alarmed.

The last thing Lance heard before the cockpit's doors slid closed was Pidge reassuring him, "Don't worry, Dad. Lance is a better pilot than you'd think."

Wow, thanks. Lance rolled his eyes as he settled into his seat, but his fond smile morphed into a scowl when the pod's viewscreen showed him an image of the hangar doors, which would stay closed so long as the satellite didn't have power.

"Uh, Pidge?" he called into the back of the pod. "We have a problem, over."

"What?" Pidge appeared behind him.

"The doors."

"What about--oh, quiznak." Pidge sat in the copilot's seat and opened the communication channel to the Castle. "Allura? Coran?"

"Number Five, is that you?" said Coran.

"Yes," she said. "We're in our pod, but the satellite's lost power. Are you guys here yet?"

"Yes," Coran told her, "and we are already engaged. What do you need?"

"We need you to blast open the hangar doors," said Pidge.

"All right, I'm sending Number Two in the Yellow Lion right now," Coran reassured them.

"Great," Pidge said, sounding relieved. "Thanks, Coran." She closed the channel, and within tics the hangar doors blasted open, shooting defenseless Galra pilots and a few untethered fighters into the vacuum of space.

Lance grinned. "Thanks, Hunk," he said as he launched the pod into space, passing the Yellow Lion on their way.

Another channel opened, and Allura's pink-helmeted face appeared, smiling. "I'm happy to see you all right," she said.

"You know us, Princess," Lance said, waving a dismissive hand. "It takes a lot more than a trap engineered by Lotor to bring us down."

Allura raised an eyebrow at him, though she still looked amused. "I'm sure," she said. "As soon as you're inside the Castle, we'll follow and leave so we can regroup. Is Pidge there with you?"

Lance glanced over, blinking when he noticed she'd left the cockpit. "No," he said. "She's sitting with her dad." He smiled. "She found him."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear!" Allura said. "We'll contact Matt as soon as we're safely away."

"You bet, Princess," said Lance, slumping in his seat as Allura ended the transmission.

The Castle's hangar opened to admit them, and Nike entered the cockpit. He looked at her and said, "Sorry you had to abandon your post, Nike."

"It's nothing," Nike said, "though I dread explaining this to Kolivan."

"Eh," Lance said with a shrug, "Keith's gotten the same lecture from him more times than even Pidge can count, so I'm sure you'll survive it."

To his surprise and glee, Nike cracked a smile. "Yes, but Keith is special."

"Sure," Lance said skeptically, but any amusement he felt evaporated when he remembered something important. "Aw, quiznak."

"What is it?" Nike asked, blinking at him.

Lance buried his face in his hands. "I forgot my faithful jacket on the moon."

---

Lance and Pidge debriefed Allura, Kolivan, and the others as soon as the Castle was a safe distance away (undoubtedly Lotor was gnashing his teeth at another narrow escape). And of course, they - and Nike - apologized profusely to Kolivan for making it impossible for her to return to her post, though despite his obvious disapproval, Lance couldn't bring himself to be too remorseful, not when he saw how happy Pidge was.

She couldn't even fake an apologetic frown, despite Kolivan glaring down at her.

After the meeting, Pidge disappeared to contact her brother and to show her somewhat bemused father around the Castle. He'd been ecstatic to see Shiro there, and happy to hear that his son was just a single message away.

Hunk approached him as he watched Pidge leave. "So," he said, smiling, "mission accomplished?"

"Why is that a question?" Lance asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Hunk shrugged. "Pidge got what she wanted," he said. "What about you?"

"Seriously, Hunk," Lance said, rolling his eyes, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" Hunk sounded supremely unimpressed. "All that time pretending to be married, and nothing?"

"Oh," Lance said, face burning. "We'll...talk about it."

"So something did happen?"

"Yeah," Lance admitted, staring down at his feet and suddenly feeling exhausted; he hadn't realized how much adrenaline had sustained him on the satellite. "We kissed and a quintant later I accidentally admitted to a stranger that I wished we were married for real."

"Whoa, really?"

"You asked," Lance pointed out petulantly. "Anyway, we...agreed to talk about it later." He stared at the door, as if he could see Pidge through it. "There's something more important for her to worry about now."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Hunk agreed, patting him on the shoulder. "That's very mature of you, Lance."

He snorted. "I'm plenty mature," he said.

"Of course you are."

---

Matt Holt paid a visit a few quintants later, greeting Allura with an exaggerated bow and a wink, an uncomfortably familiar flush in his cheeks, but when he caught sight of his father with Pidge he charged towards him.

Lance tried not to watch, feeling like an intruder in their happy family reunion, but it was difficult since he'd barely seen Pidge since the conclusion of their mission. Instead he passed most of his time annoying either Hunk or Keith, or even Nike, who was fairly tolerant of him thanks to their time spent together on the Canid moon.

Except for when she asked him about Pidge.

"Are you and the Green Paladin not married?" Nike wondered.

He'd made her a milkshake, a sort of comfort since Kolivan was giving her the cold shoulder after her unfortunate - and excusable, Lance thought - abandonment of her station, and regretted his goodwill the tic that question left her mouth.

"No, Nike, we're not," said Lance.

"Really?" she said. She sipped from the straw, looking very much not like the fierce Blade she was. "Because you acted like it."

"No we didn't."

"You did," Nike said. She set her cup down and started counting on her fingers. "Casual affection, teasing, arguing--"

"That describes all of my friendships!" Lance pointed out. "Are you going to ask me if I'm married to Hunk or Keith next?"

"No, of course not," said Nike. "Keith is married to Princess Allura."

Lance almost choked on his own milkshake at that. "No, he's--" He cut himself off, considering Nike's criteria. "Okay, I see your point there. But Pidge and I--"

"You didn't let me finish my list," Nike said reasonably.

He sighed, leaning backwards against the kitchen counter. "What else then?"

"You follow her with your eyes a lot," Nike explained. She slurped her milkshake, surprising Lance at how quickly she'd drained the cup. "And she looks at you like you...hold the sort of secrets worth sacrificing her life for."

"That sounds surprisingly romantic coming from a Galra," Lance said, fighting to sound nonchalant in defiance of the heat on his face.

"Thank you," Nike said earnestly. She rounded the counter so that she stood in front of him and crossed her arms. "The Blade prohibits its members from gambling, but I will make you a wager."

"Oh yeah?" Lance raised an eyebrow at her. "What's that?"

"If you and the Green Paladin are not truly married by the end of this deca-phoeb, I will personally see to your washing at the ceremony."

"Washing?" Lance said, standing up straight. "What do you--"

"Galra weddings - particularly for members of the Blade - are usually small, but a display of good hygiene--"

Lance waved his hand, cutting her off. "Okay, fine," he said. He covered his face with his hand. "I accept your wager."

Later, when Nike complained of a bellyache and Kolivan scolded them both - and Keith, quite unhelpfully, informed him that Galra were lactose intolerant - Lance couldn't bring himself to feel too guilty.

---

Late in the Castle's night cycle - he would hazard a guess and say two in the morning - Lance opened his eyes to his dark bedroom, oddly alert despite being woken up from what he thought was a deep sleep. "What the quiznak?" he muttered to himself.

A soft knock sounded from the door, answering Lance's question, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. With a sigh he stood and walked over, pressing the panel to open the door.

It slid open to admit Pidge, who stared up at him, frowning. "Can we talk?" she asked.

Finally, Lance thought, though the frown on her face had worry churning in his gut. "It's...late," he pointed out.

"I know," she said, "but I couldn't sleep. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Eh," Lance said dismissively. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter his humble abode. "You can wake me up anytime, Pidge."

She smiled at him, looking oddly shy, and sat on his bed.

Lance sat beside her. "So...who talks first?" he asked her, glancing at her.

Pidge sighed. "This is harder than I expected," she admitted, hands clasped in her lap.

Lance wanted to take them in his, but instead he suggested, "You want to play a video game?"

Pidge looked at him, a relieved smile on her face. "Yes."

Lance turned on the system, the indicator lights from the myriad attachments and extensions illuminating his dim bedroom. He settled onto the floor in front of the screen and patted the spot beside him, a controller in his hand. "You can have player one"--he smirked--"sweetheart."

She stared at him, and to his satisfaction and relief, she grinned. "Oh, it's on." She sat beside him, close enough that her knee brushed against his, and took the controller.

They played for more time than Lance bothered to keep track of, losing themselves in the competition of a two-player game and in trash talk, only talking about what was in front of them rather than what sat between them, heavy enough to suffocate.

It was fun, Lance thought. It was always fun and effortless with Pidge, even when an elephant occupied the room with them.

Pidge paused in the middle of a game, but before Lance could ask her why, she said, "It's later."

Lance opened his mouth, then closed it, then settled on, "Oh."

She set her controller aside and turned so that she faced him. "I didn't know you felt that way."

He frowned, steeling himself for disappointment, but then Pidge touched his cheek, turning his head so that he looked directly at her. "This was a hard mission for me," she admitted, "and not just because it was for my dad's sake."

"Then--"

"Lance, I--" She cut herself off, scowling. "I had to pretend to be in love with you"--Lance swallowed, his heart plummeting, but forced himself to hold her gaze--"while also pretending I wasn't."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sure I follow," he said.

Pidge withdrew her hand, and he missed the warmth of her fingers on his skin immediately. She buried her face in her hands. "Quiznak, why is this so hard?"

Lance took her hands, tugging them away from her face. "Take your time," he said.

"That's the thing," Pidge said, frowning at the floor. "I've taken enough time. I have my brother and father back; I...well, I miss my mother so much I can't even breathe sometimes, but for some reason I just..."

"Pidge, now that you have your family back," Lance said, a horrifying thought entering his mind, "do you want to leave?"

"What?" Pidge said, her eyes snapping up to his face. "No!"

"Then what--"

"I love you, you idiot!" she said. "I love you!" She flung her arms around his neck, almost jumping into his lap and nearly knocking him backwards, and his arms wrapped around her reflexively.

"That's one quiznak of a confession," he muttered, burying his nose in her sweet-smelling hair.

"Oh, just say 'fuck', Lance," Pidge grumbled.

"That's one fuck of a confession?" he tried. "That doesn't even make sense."

Pidge drew back from him enough to look him in the eye, her forehead pressed to his. "You're ridiculous," she said.

Lance smirked. "So I still got it?"

She snorted, but the smile that stretched across her face was pure bliss. "You still got it."

Not wanting to hold back anymore, Lance leaned in and kissed her.

Pidge melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as their mouths slid together. She shivered at the touch of his tongue, and heat spread throughout his body. Almost regretfully, he pulled back and looked at her. "Is it too soon to ask you to marry me for real?"

Pidge smiled. "Yes," she said, though she shook her head and kissed him again.

Lance leaned back, laughing when her lips chased his. "Would it make a difference if I say that if we do it by the end of the deca-phoeb, we won't have a Galra ceremony?"

That took Pidge by surprise, enough that she leaned away from him, eyes wide in confusion. "Uh, what?

Lance pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. "I'll...explain in the morning," he promised, "sweetheart."

He could imagine Pidge rolling her eyes as she said, "There are no mornings in space, darling."