Archive of Our Own

Lance

Rachel was a believer of fate. She had always spoke of the ‘red string of fate’ or ‘twin flames’ or whatever derivative or rendition of soulmates that she could find from any corner of the world and it always drove Lance nuts. She believed, with every fibre of her being, that everyone in the known universe had a match and she also - rather vehemently - believed that his match wasn’t with Allura.

But Rachel had also believed the Earth was flat. When Lance and his friends had disappeared mysteriously years ago, with no explanation from the Garrison, it only reinforced her convictions with conspiracies. Once he'd returned to Earth, and indulged her with a ride on Red, he never heard a peep of the “flat Earth” again. But the fact that she even considered the notion made Lance sure that whatever his sister convinced him to be true, was probably best taken with a grain of salt.

“Look, I’m just saying. Your vibes and her vibes just don’t match.”

“That’s a weird way of saying she’s way out of my league.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and retorted as she punched his shoulder lightly, “I was not even remotely implying that. I’m just saying you two aren’t suited for each other and I just feel like there’s someone else nearby that you’re missing out on.” She gave him a knowing look with that and handed him a small white envelope. On the front of it, in gilded cursive, were a pair of familiar initials.

And even though his intuition agreed with her for once, Lance chose to ignore her.

“Why are we here again?”

Walking before him, his best friend merely shrugged. Their entire journey to the planet, Pidge had been unusually quiet. It was out of the norm for her, especially since he’d figured she would be excited to be back on Olkarion.

“I wanted to show you something.” 

Fallen leaves and branches crunched beneath their space boots as she led him through the dense forest; the lights of the Olkarion city behind them gradually fading into the horizon. The skies had dimmed as the twin suns had set. Distant galaxies and nebulas glittered over them; the air comfortingly cool and the winds soft. Had it not been for their paladin suits, he would have thought they were back on Earth.

“Just trust me,” she said, with a smile thrown over her shoulder.

He always had, many times without question, so he followed.

Her footsteps stilled and Lance nearly bumped into her small form. She looked out to a clearing and turned to him with a bright gleam in her eye that sent a jolt to his heart. There was the girl he knew. 

Her voice was soft as she gestured him closer.

“Watch.”

Pidge

Pidge sighed and perched herself on the ledge of the roof. It had been awhile since she'd been up there. Her hands were tucked into her lab coat as she took in the vast, sprawling horizon of Plaht City. More buildings had been erected since she'd last sat there as a teen, listening for alien voices from the skies, listening for her family. 

But she'd come a long way since then, and so has the city. The rocky barriers that once shielded the Garrison have been chipped away, allowing more of the city and it's sparkling buildings to spread towards them.

New suburbs quickly sprung, as did schools, shopping districts and other places where people carried on with their lives. The war was put behind them, laid to rest to give way to a new era. But as humankind - and now, alienkind as well - moved on, Pidge found her heart firmly in the past.

She'd watched people she went to school with fall in love, break-up, marry and was already at a stage of her life - much to her annoyance -  where she received invitations to baby showers. Her own ring finger twitched, where an elegant oval diamond ring laid; lovingly placed by her fiancé.

She hated it.

Since the end of the war, Pidge barely had time for herself. She'd spent most of her waking hours within the Garrison compound and even spent some nights there. It was only inevitable that she would lose contact with her friends.

That was, until she bumped into James Griffin. James was the sort of boy that Pidge would have avoided like the plague in high school. He had a certain 'untouchable' aura to him that some may read as arrogance, but truly, it was his charisma that had rubbed her the wrong way.

He, on the other hand, thought she was utterly fascinating.

She figured she had just been a challenge to him; he was far too accustomed to girls throwing themselves at him, that to have a girl find him utterly boring stoked some sort of caveman instinct to chase after her. She didn't know why she obliged him.

She didn't know why she accepted going to dinner with him, letting him hold her hand in the cinema, allowed him to walk her home and kiss her goodnight on her porch. She didn't understand why he told her "I love you" when he was sent away on his first long-term mission, and she couldn't for the life of her understand why she said it back.

And one year later, she wore his mother’s ring when it should be on another girl's hand - someone who actually loved him - a girl who wasn’t using him to get over someone else. He was a sweet man, she'd have to admit. Beneath the splendor of a hotshot Garrison pilot, he was a closeted romantic. He respected her and was nothing but her biggest advocate. He'd take good care of her, would make any woman extremely happy.

But he just wasn't... him .

They didn't have the shared trauma of being thrown into an intergalactic space war. He didn't know, after one year with her, that her favourite snacks were peanut butter cookies. Least of all, he could care less about video games. It was not that he cared enough to know, it was her own fault. Her own fears of accepting the reality that by opening herself to him, she was moving on from him . She didn’t want that at all.

She knew what she was about to do could be interpreted as imprudent; any girl would be lucky to find a man like James. A man with a career, stable income and a good family – his family found her unrefined but liked that her legacy added shine to their name – with a caring personality to boot. But she just wasn't that girl. She could never appreciate him; not when her heart just wouldn’t let go of the young man that she'd been in love with for nearly five years.

She wondered if James knew.

Did he see the longing in her eyes whenever she caught sight of him and the Altean princess together? If he knew how sometimes, she woke up crying to a nightmare of him taking a laser beam for her and seeing his body go limp. If he knew how desperately she wanted it to be him to be the one to comfort her, to soothe her and dry her tears by bringing her to his chest to listen to his still-beating heart.

James wasn't him and would never be him.  She was being selfish.

Her hand lifted decisively and tugged off the delicate ring off her finger. She rested it on her palm and inspected it as it sparkled brilliantly in the muted light of the setting sun. 

Her predicament was entirely her doing. She'd felt no emotion when he'd gotten down on a knee and asked her the question. There was none of the joy in her heart that she'd anticipated, or the tears and the unmistakable "yes" on her lips. Only shock, and a quick meek nod that was more out of fear of disappointing him than anything else. 

And as each day passed, with each “congratulations,”  and worried looks from her mother whenever she tried to prod her for wedding details, the heavy weight in her heart only grew.

"You wanted to talk, love?"

Her heart was in her throat  and whatever courage she’d managed to gather dissipated in  an instant. She turned slowly and took a moment to take in his features. His perfect hair, his sharp cheekbones, the sculpted jaw; down to his broad shoulders and his lithe, muscular frame. He wore his white fatigues; he must have just returned from a drill.

Her eyes met his gentle brown ones. She loved how they always softened upon resting on her and especially the twitch to his lips that gave her the warmest kisses. She walked over to him, her black boots making soft clicks as they reached his own. His arms wrapped around her and his head bent for a gentle kiss. She allowed herself to close her eyes, committing to memory what could be the last kiss of the man that genuinely adored her with all his heart.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips, allowing her to rest her head on his chest. Her eyes clouded with tears and she parted her lips to say the words that pained her.

“James…I- “

“Ssh, it’s okay,” he held her tighter and Pidge could have sworn she heard him gulp. “I know what you’ve been meaning to say, Katie. Don’t worry, I’ve known for a while.”

For a moment, she was deathly silent as his words registered. The first of the tears finally fell and she let out a soft sob. He stroked her soothingly, resting his cheek on the top of her head as she cried her fill. He hushed every apology and brushed away every tear.

He did know, and he cared for her despite it all.

“If you will allow me to…I’m willing to wait.”

“Why?” she whispered, one of her hands loosening from his shirt to wipe her eyes.

“I’ll be honest…I don’t know the exact reason why," he looked apprehensive but his gentle look towards her never wavered, "I've loved you for a while. You see right through me, you make me want to be a better person."

His hand lifted, and a thumb stroked away the tears from her cheeks. “I…I’m myself around you. I can relax, be at ease.” His fingers moved to tilt her chin upward, “I want to do the same for you. I want to make you feel like you have nothing to hide from me. I want to work on us, Katie. I just… know that I’d be a fool to let you go.”His hands combed through her hair again as whispered. “Let me be selfish.”

“You’re the furthest thing from selfish, James.” She  sniffled and pressed a lazy kiss over his chest.

He shrugged and smiled warmly at her. James lifted the ring and he held it out to her, “I pushed you too soon. I’m sorry. But I still want you to hold on to it. When you’re ready, or when you know that you want out, give it to me. I’ll ask you again, properly this time. Or, I’ll let you go.” She looked at the ring and back at him. “But I need to remind you: I can never be him and I will never be.” His voice was carefully soft.

“I never expected you to be,” she insisted.

“I’m here for you Katie, and I hope you’re here for me.”

And she decided to give him – and herself , really - another chance.

Even if her heart screamed no.

The clearing would have been pitch dark if it weren’t for the millions of stars above them. But as far as his eyes could make out, there didn’t seem to be much besides a meadow of tall grass. Ripples ran through it wit the soft, cool wind as Lance squinted around, looking for the object that so fascinated Pidge.

He turned to her in confusion but stopped himself from speaking as she slipped her black gloves off and stepped into the grass. The change was immediate - around her hips, a circle of bright, navy flowers glowed. Her fingers trailed across the tips of the grass and, like an ocean wave, the clearing quickly became an ethereal, glowing meadow of blue.

He let out a slow breath, almost forgetting to breathe as he looked about him in awe. It was akin to looking out onto a mystical, glowing ocean. The flowers swaying in the manner waves do in the wind. A softly sweet scent that reminded him of fresh lilies filled the air.

“W-what are they?”

“Ranora flowers.” 

She turned to him and gave him a bright smile that was just as breathtaking. 

Pidge

Pidge smiled and twirled in the dress. It was nice to wear a beautiful gown. It had been a while since she wore something so lovely. The dress was relatively simple compared to the ones on the racks, but it hugged her where it needed to be hugged and flared out into a decadent embroidered skirt.

"Is it supposed to trail out like that?" Hunk wondered aloud, pointing to the fabric that dragged on the floor as she walked.

"No, it's because the sample dress is too big."

"The dress can be altered for petite frames—that isn't a worry," the bridal consultant chirped with a bright smile. She had returned with a veil and already, Colleen Holt began to tear up. The claws of the clip dug into her scalp, but she ignored the pain as the consultant arranged the veil, letting it trail behind and fall around her shoulders beautifully. Delicate flowers were embroidered along its border, framing her form in a manner that, she had to admit, made her feel beautiful.

 "You look gorgeous, Pidge." 

She turned to give Hunk a grateful smile and her eyes went over to her mother, who was doing everything in her power not to burst into tears in public.

" Mom ..." Pidge sighed tiredly, but her own vision had blurred. Her mother accepted Hunk's handkerchief and blotted at her tears.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I just never thought I'd...when you disappeared...oh goodness." She waved her hands but allowed Hunk to hug her. After she had collected herself, she continued, "I never thought I'd see you grow up, see you graduate college, help you get ready for your first date…But here you are, about to get married." 

Pidge picked up the hem of her dress and went over to her mother. Their hug was met with soft sighs and sentimental sniffles around them. Pidge wondered if the people around her knew that this wasn't another mother-daughter bonding moment. She wondered if they knew it was a mother realizing her only daughter was back from the dead and was trying desperately  to return to a life of normalcy. 

With one last squeeze, her mother released her. She gently adjusted her veil and Pidge felt a pang in her chest that she desperately hoped wasn’t panic. Everything suddenly felt real. She was going through with this. She was marrying him. "You look so beautiful, honey. It’s absolutely perfect for a spring wedding."

But to the wrong person . A voice whispered in her head. She squashed the meddling whisper as soon as it came.

"Thanks Mom," and the look in her mother's eyes told her that she knew exactly what she was thanking her for. 

"Would you like to try another style?" the consultant prodded carefully, wary of interrupting an emotional moment. Pidge turned back to the mirror and returned her gaze to herself. The veil was actually beautiful; she didn't ever think of herself liking the floral embroidery let alone the small amount of lace.

Maybe because the flowers reminded her of Ranoras.

She took in a deep breath and turned to the bridal consultant with a wide smile. "No, I think this is it."

As her mother went off with the bridal consultant to discuss her own gown for the day, Hunk came up behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

"...Are you sure?" The tone of his voice was careful, and Pidge knew he was not talking about the dress. Matt had posed the same question to her when she announced her engagement. Even then, and now, she chose to play dumb.

"Hm? Of course. It's a pretty dress."

"You know what I’m talking about, Pidge."

She gulped heavily and broke eye contact, fingers running over the delicate petals embroidered on the veil. 

“I’m sure.”

The quiver in her voice gave her away.

“Do you know... what I love about them?” he tilted his head in her direction, interested, and she finally drew her eyes up to look at him. She bit her lip, as though thinking of what she was about to say. A crease formed between her brows and her shoulders slumped. “The bioluminescent compounds in the petals converts the heat energy in our bodies to light,” she sighed, returning her gaze to her fingers as she caressed the glowing petals. “Olkarion couples wear them at weddings because they symbolise pure love and hope for a brighter future.”

She was not telling him the truth - no, he didn’t doubt what she said was true. But he was fairly certain she was about to say something else entirely and had thought better of it. 

Pidge

"Pidge."

The voice made her stop. It was breathy and awestruck, but she'd recognise it anywhere. She reminded herself to breathe before slowly turning to her side. There he was, handsome as she remembered; navy suit pressed perfectly, boutonniere straight and brown hair coiffed impeccably. Pidge giggled as his jaw dropped. His eyes widened as he whispered a soft "wow".

"You look handsome," she quipped with a sly smile. He broke out of his trance at her coy remark and lifted his gaze to her eyes. One end of his lips quirked up as he stepped forward to take her hand. 

"I'd hope so—I was standing in front of the mirror admiring myself for so long that Hunk had to drag me out here." His thumb brushed over her knuckles and it helped soothe the nerves she felt since waking up that morning.

"I'm so glad you're here," and she meant those words with every quark of her being. The resentment in her heart was long gone and forgotten with the relief that flooded her at that moment.

"I wouldn't miss this day for the whole universe.” His voice was painfully soft as his fingers played across her smaller ones.  It made her heart squeeze with an emotion she couldn't name. She hadn't even noticed that his other hand was hidden behind his back. Lance's eyes wandered down; taking in her dress, her bouquet of white flowers - carefully picked by her groom from his mother's garden - in her hands and then finally to her veil-covered face.

"You look breathtaking," and with a more strained smile, he whispered, "James is a lucky man."

"So, I tell him," giving him another forced smile before casting her gaze away. A small part of her had hoped he would not come, but the greater part was relieved that their friendship wasn't completely far gone.

"Hunk told me you couldn't find something blue..." His  hidden arm stretched forward, and he extended his hand to her. On his palm, was a small bouquet of flowers with delicate blue petals that had a familiar mild, sweet scent.

Ranora flowers.

"Oh... Lance ," her voice quivered as he stepped forward and carefully arranged the small flowers into her bouquet. The small, tanzanite blue petals stood out in a beautiful contrast between the stalks of white orchids, roses and hydrangeas.

“I remembered what you said about why you loved them and I couldn’t think of a more perfect occasion for you to wear them,”

She wanted to tell him how much of that was a lie. The cultural sentiment that made her favourite flowers special was true. But the real reason why she loved them, she was going to keep close to her heart. Nevermind how plainly obvious it was.

"There we go." He stood back and inspected his work. It was impressive how he'd managed to insert them so seamlessly. It was as though he'd arranged the entire bouquet himself. "It's beautiful," she whispered, tenderly touching one of the flowers. They were still fresh, meaning that he had either arranged for someone to drop them off on Earth, or had gone all the way to Olkarion on his own and plucked them himself the night before.

She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his and found that he was looking right at her. A brief thought flashed in her head, and something in her throat welled, begging for her to speak. She firmly pushed it down. The glint of silver on his ring finger was enough for her to force a smile on her face and offer him an affectionate hug. His scent was as she remembered, but his sharp cologne clung to her nostrils grounding her back to reality. 

"Ready, Katie?" her father's voice came behind. She reluctantly released her arms from him and stepped back to look over at her father. Sam’s brows lifted, and he smiled warmly at his daughter's friend. "Lance! You look well. Ah- should I call you Prin-"

"Oh quiznack, not at all Mr. Holt," he waved it off with a flush on his cheeks. He returned his gaze to her, giving her a look that made her heart flutter with longing. There was a pain in his eyes that disappeared with a blink, replaced with his easy smile. He lifted her knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss and squeezed her fingers. Slowly, he released them as he walked back into the chapel to join the bridal party by the celebrant.

She didn’t know why her hand still reached out to his retreating form.

Lance

He wasn’t sure if it was the glow of the flowers, the dim lights or the billions of stars above them— but whatever it was, Pidge looked especially beautiful that night.

His best friend had always been beautiful. Even when he’d used to think she was a boy, he’d found the feminine curves of her face and her eyes so attractive that it made him rethink his sexuality. But it went beyond the physical. Pidge was an enigma. One who was so self-assured, but guarded her heart like no other. Someone who on first glance, appeared abrasive and unfriendly, but in reality had quickly become his dearest friend. And, at some point, something much more. 

He fiddled with his wrist computer until he found the right track. The first soft notes of the song played and Pidge turned to him in curiosity.

He wordlessly raised the volume, letting the music reverberate in the small clearing about them, the trees ensconcing them in their small, enchanted meadow.

“May I have this dance?”

“Sinatra?” she asked with a ghost of a smile on her lips. She let him pull her into a slow, lazy dance, with her arms around his shoulders and his hands on her waist. He found it increasingly difficult to turn his eyes away from her lips.

“I’m a classy man, Pidge.”

Her eyes darted to his lips and away.

“Extremely sappy, you mean.” 

He scoffed at that, but eventually found himself smiling. 

“It’s a sad song,” she breathed after a few minutes, flushing as he leaned his head lower to hers. “But it’s beautiful.” 

“It is,” he murmured. 

Pidge

As she took her first step down the aisle, the anxiety in her slowly ebbed away. A hush fell over the congregation and they stood as soon as the first notes of the wedding march played. Her father's grip on her hand tightened gently and she felt his hands shake as he guided her down the aisle, and she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze as soon as she heard him sniffle. 

James's eyes were as warm as the first day he asked her out on a date. Instead of the practiced handshake during rehearsals, he gave her father a hug and whispered a promise to love her as much as he did. Her father's hug with her lingered and her eyes misted over as he kissed her forehead before gently joining her hand with James'.

Her heart raced and she took quiet, discrete breaths in an effort to calm herself. The voice of the officiant faded into the background as she forced herself to focus on her beau’s eyes.

 "... speak now or forever hold your peace ."

She didn't know why she held her breath as a deafening silence fell over the congregation. There was a palpable tension behind her and the one person she’d managed to successfully keep out of her mind her journey down the aisle, returned to haunt her. She felt herself tremble but her soon-to-be husband sensed it and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

She handed her bouquet to Lance and ignored the electric touch of his warm fingertips and joined her other hand with James’.

She looked into his serene eyes – ones that promised stability, devotion and patience, and she forced the hesitant voice in her to quieten once more.

The vows were brief and not much different. James's family was a stickler for tradition and it made her antsy. James too, looked like he was weary of the procession and pageantry, but his eyes were entirely on her while his thumb rubbed reassuring circles over her small fingers. His eyes said everything – she just wanted this to be over with and fall asleep too.

Even after they exchanged rings and her husband’s strong, sure hands surrounded hers, it did little to quell the light quiver in her body as he guided her back up the aisle, rice raining over their heads.

It was still relatively recent that Lance became attuned to his instincts; and if they were ever trying to tell him something, it was then.

“ Do you think soulmates are real, Pidge?”

He watched her consider the question, surprised that it took her this long to reject something so non-scientific. 

“Who knows,” she whispered, eyes dimming as she tore her gaze away from him. Something overcame him and he found his hand on her chin, gently lifting it so she would look at him again. Her small body melted to his and her eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed over hers. The song had ended seconds ago, it was only the quiet stillness of the meadow and their soft breaths. Then, as though she’d been electrocuted, she pushed him away.

“We should go.” 

“But-”

“No,” she clasped her hands to her chest and turned to him. “We pretend nothing happened here, okay? I won’t tell Allura if you don’t tell James.”

His heart bled, but he nodded.

Pidge

“May I have this dance, Mrs. Griffin?”

Her heart skipped several beats at the familiar voice behind her. But she managed to keep her voice full of mirth, “It’s Mrs. Holt -Griffin, Lance.” 

Hunk twirled her one last time and she laughed delightedly as he kissed her cheek before handing her off to Lance. 

As her hand grasped his, the other resting lightly on his shoulder, she couldn’t help the feeling of deja vu as the song changed. Both of them stilled, but knowing eyes were on them, Lance pulled her into the slow, soft dance.

“Hey, it’s our song,” she laughed nervously, forcing what she hoped was an amused smile. Her cheeks already ached from all the fake smiling.

“It’s spooky,” he remarked, laughing a little nervously. In the dimmed lights of the ballroom, his eyes glowed exactly as they did that night. But there was a certain cast over them - as though they were losing their lustre. 

“Spring songs in a spring wedding, I’d say it’s basic probability,” she offered weakly, even though she barely believed it herself.

The rest of their dance was quiet but they looked nowhere else but each other. For the first time that whole day, Pidge didn’t feel apprehension nor fear. Just calm and the feeling of warmth - it was as though they were on that Olkarion meadow again.

As the last bars of the song faded out, a hand tapped Lance’s shoulder and the mirage was broken. 

“I’d like my wife back,” James complained lightheartedly. Lance chuckled and stepped away from her. His hand squeezed hers, one last time, and he let go. She watched him walk away from her, looking back at her only once with a soft smile on his lips before joining his own wife at their table.

Lance

“Rachel?”

“Mm?” his sister paused from sipping her champagne.

His eyes fixated on the newly-weds; the groom twirling his beautiful bride through a waltz.

Lance let out a slow sigh, leaning back against his seat, “I think you might have been right for once.”

P idge

He had left at some point in the night without saying goodbye.  Allura had been the one to come to her personally to apologize, citing an Altean matter which Pidge had brushed off without much of a thought. The newly coronated Queen of Neo-Altea hugged her warmly, congratulating her and offering her sincerest wishes. She accepted them with the same practised smile, feeling her heart droop at the finality of it all.

And that night, as she slowly drifted to sleep in her husband’s arms, she watched the glow of the Ranora flowers in her bouquet slowly fade through her drooping eyelids.