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“No,” Pidge said once Allura explained the sticking point. “Absolutely not. I don’t care if it insults them, I refuse.”
“Pidge,” Allura said, rubbing her temples in frustration, “it’s not simply a matter of insult - though that’s worrisome enough. It’s also that no one in the government will take you seriously if you’re not married.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” Pidge said. “Why do I have to tell them we’re married?”
“Wow, I’m so glad you find me so desirable,” Lance quipped irritably, crossing his arms.
The meeting was not at all going how he’d expected, not when Allura explained that Pidge would have to pretend to be married to whomever traveled to the Canids’ moon with her, and not when they’d all decided that Pidge would have to pretend to be married to Lance.
“It’s not–that’s not–ugh!” Pidge growled, covering her face with her hands. She hadn’t been so frustrated when Allura mentioned the ruse, no; she’d only reacted like this when they recommended her partner-in-crime be Lance.
It was hard not to feel insulted - and disappointed, his heart sinking unpleasantly as Pidge fought.
“Well, neither of you is the best diplomat we have,” Allura said, looking annoyed herself as she glanced between him and Pidge, “but you are the sneakiest. And you, Pidge, have the most personal stake in this to see the job well done.”
Pidge rubbed her face. “All right, fine,” she said. “Lance and I will act…married, whatever that means.” Her face colored, probably with embarrassment, but then she stood and stormed out of the conference room.
Everyone else followed at a slower pace to carry on the preparations, since Pidge and Lance would be leaving in a pod within the next two quintants, but Lance stared after her, frowning. “Is it really that raw of a deal for her?” he asked the room at large.
Hunk, still sitting beside him, raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think it has anything to do with you?”
Surprised, Lance turned his head towards him. “What the hell else would it be? Before the princess suggested I go with her, she was on board with it!”
“Eh, not necessarily,” Hunk said, shrugging. “You know Pidge, right? She spends more time with you than with anyone else.”
Lance blinked, surprised. “Wait, really? How do you know that?”
He waved a dismissive hand and smirked. “Oh, it’s just a guess, really. But don’t take her reaction to being fake married to you too personal.” He patted Lance’s shoulder. “I doubt she meant anything against you, so just be sensitive.” He then stood and followed everyone else out, leaving Lance to stew in his skepticism and doubt.
Nothing to do with me? Yeah, right…
“I’m piloting!” Lance called out, beating Pidge to the pod before she was even halfway across the hangar.
Pidge just shrugged, and when she caught up to him, she silently stuffed her bag overflowing with surveillance equipment in the back and took the co-pilot’s seat without complaint.
“Really?” Lance said, disappointed that hadn’t gotten a rise out of her. He buckled into his seat and fired up the engine, and after a word with Coran wishing them luck and reminding them only to reach out to the Castle in case of an emergency, he steered the pod out of the hangar and into open space.
“So…” Lance tried again. He glanced sideways at Pidge and put on his most charming smile. “We have about five vargas until we get to the moon. What do you want to do?”
“Take a nap,” Pidge said, pulling her feet onto the seat with her and pressing her face against her legs.
The silent treatment wore on Lance’s nerves within doboshes of flying - not that he even needed to fly that much, since the pod had an autopilot feature - and despite Hunk’s advice to be sensitive ringing in his head, he asked, “Why have you been avoiding me? If we have to pretend to be married, we can’t just…avoid each other, you know.”
Pidge groaned but didn’t lift her face. “I know,” she said.
“Then what’s the problem?” Lance said. He turned in his seat to more easily look at her, worry churning in his gut.
Pidge leaned back against her seat’s headrest. “You mean aside from the fact that my father might be a spy for the Galra Empire?”
“Well…yes.” Unable to keep the petulance from his voice, he added, “You haven’t avoided anyone else.”
“You’re about to wish I’d avoid you,” Pidge said. “We have to pretend to be married. That means we have to sleep in the same room.”
Heat clawed up Lance’s neck and he stared out the viewscreen. “See? We’ll have to spend lots of time together in the next few days. And who knows how long we’ll be alone in each other’s company?” His heart skipped a beat at the thought, and when he hazarded a glance towards Pidge, he saw her cheeks were red.
“So we need fake names, don’t we?” Lance said, deciding to change the subject.
“Why?” Pidge asked. To his relief, she seemed to relax, crossing her legs on the chair rather than holding them up. “No one knows the names of the Paladins of Voltron.”
“You never know, right?” he pointed out reasonably.
“Fine,” said Pidge, with a small smile. “What do you have in mind?”
“Hmm.” Lance smirked. “Sonny and Cher?”
“Nope.”
“All right, we can think of other couple names. Samson and Delilah?”
“You want me to shave your head in your sleep or something?” Pidge quipped, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Fine, bad example,” Lance said sheepishly. “Hades and Persephone?”
“What’s with all the mythology?” Pidge said, leaning towards him, amusement alight in her eyes. “Are you worried I’ll shoot down any pop culture-inspired names?”
Lance smiled, goaded by her attitude. “Beyonce and Jay-Z?”
“I’m divorcing you,” she deadpanned.
Lance laughed. He stared out the viewscreen, calm and happy despite the danger they were quite literally flying towards. The stars scattered across the wide universe, so far away as to give them an illusion of privacy: it was just him and Pidge, alone in this small pod, without anyone else around for lightyears - if anyone else even existed.
“What about…Leo and Aries?” he said.
“The constellations?” Pidge said. She glanced at him, and the fact that she didn’t immediately shoot down the idea encouraged him to explain.
“You know, our zodiac signs,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, though for some reason it was important that she agree. “I’m a Leo, and you’re an Aries, right?”
“Astrology is bullshit though,” Pidge said, sounding confused. “And the stars don’t look the same here.”
“I know,” Lance admitted, “but it’s…fun, right? It’s something to ground us, and easy to remember, and–”
“Okay.”
“What?” Surprised by her fast agreement, he smiled at her. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she said. She rested a warm hand on his arm and returned his smile. “Really.”