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Sleep crusted eyes open to the sound of a programmed cell phone alarm. An uncharacteristically uncoordinated tanned arm reaches out to switch it off.
For a full 30 seconds, his brain doesn’t register the numbers displayed on his phone, on why the hell he’s waking up this early on a holiday. They never wake up this early on day off. When there’s a holiday they’re almost always gaming way too late into the night. Probably way too late for heroes of the universe, and definitely way too late for people who have paying jobs, and mortgage and places to be.
Oh right; Holt holiday brunch. Thank god they’re just a 15 minute drive to another area of the Garrison base.
He wouldn’t mind a couple more winks and continue just lazing around in bed but he and Pidge are one of the parties charged with booze requisition and you can’t have brunch sans mimosa ingredients, and lord knows the grocery store will be awful today of all days.
Surprising no one, Pidge is an utterly useless muppet after a late night gaming sesh. Said muppet’s arms are firmly wrapped around his chest and continues to snore into Lance’s ear.
With their height disparity, you’d be surprised to find out that Pidge is always the big spoon. No matter how they go to bed, come morning she ends up wrapped around his back like a barnacle, their legs impossibly tangled up. He mistakenly told Hunk and is made fun of mercilessly for it by their entire friend circle.
As Lance makes to get up, the goal of brewing a pot of coffee priority one on his morning to do list, he hears/feels a rather cute “Hrmph” and feels her arms tighten around his torso.
“Cuuuuuuudddles…” protests Pidge’s sleep-addled brain.
He sighs, this is every lazy morning with her since they began sharing a bed, “Come on Pidge, we’ve gotta go pick up some things before we get to your folks’ place and the grocery store is going to be a clusterfuck.”
Either she doesn’t hear, or more likely she ignores him. A still cute, but now more territorial noise escapes her lips and gives way to her boa constrictor-like grasp tightening again. He would definitely never say it to her face, but he often thinks about how ants are deceptively strong for their size and able to lift twice their body mass...
Again like a zombie, Pidge gives her best argument for them to continue sleeping, “Cuuuuuudles…”
His utterly useless-in-the-morning, surprisingly-ant-strong, sleepy girlfriend is ridiculous. Pidge buries her face further into his neck hoping to drag him back into slumber even when they have little time to get ready, make their grocery store stop and to get to her parents place.
With a free arm, Lance checks his phone again to see the time and, with the little progress he’s made getting out of bed, they are going to be late.
There was always bribery, and Lance figured it couldn’t hurt, “I’ll make coffee.”
She grunts in response and throws a leg around his hip, perilously close to diggin a heel into crotch, before constricting again to squeeze out the last air space between their bodies. As if to continue her counter-argument she begins to nibble deliciously on his ear-lobe.
She will be the death of him or at the least lead to them missing out on the first round of mimosas.
Lance is getting desperate because he knows if this goes any further, he knows this ends with them showing up on her parents doorstep, late AND obviously freshly fucked.
He tries again, doing a strange mental calculus to appeal to his half-asleep horny girlfriend, “I’ll make coffee!” he blabbers on, “Just the way you like it, too much cream & sugar; too little coffee, and some of that fake pumpkin syrup shit you love!”
Her response is one of her hands snaking up his shirt while the other dips in his waistband to palm and firmly tug on his member through his boxers.
In a much higher pitch, almost a falsetto and entirely too fast, he delivers his last bargaining chip, “And one of Hunk’s cookies we saved up, warmedupintheovenmygodletgoofmewoman!!!”
She pauses her ministrations and in the sweetest voice that Pidge only uses when she knows she’s gotten away with murder, she responds, her mind laser suddenly laser focused, “and you’ll bring them to bed?”
Now it’s his turn to pout, “Ugh,yes you brat.”
Pidge’s handsey...hands... untangle from around his chest and dick (not before giving him an gnarly nipple twister) and with the aid of her legs she roughly shoves him out of their bed and he lands with a thump on the floor.
Lance internalizes the feeling of carpet against his face for a second before he picks himself up off the floor and looks at his gremlin of a girlfriend who has now rolled over onto her side away from him and hogged the whole comforter and has cocooned/burritoed herself on the other side of the bed, the only part of her he can still see are her freckled legs and underwear clad bottom.
This. Fucking. Gremlin. Or is she a goblin? Aren’t goblins the super smart ones that love to tinker and engineer? Whatever.
Before heading to the kitchen he gives her rump a firm swat that elicits a squawk from Pidge. Lance misses the middle-finger laden hand emerging from the Pidge-ritto directed as his back.
---
Having kicked her sexy alarm clock out the door, Pidge savors the extra minutes of shut eye, only stirring as her ears pick up the clink of a coastered coffee cup and another plate, likely cookie laden being placed on their dresser.
Damn it, that wasn’t the deal, “What happened to bringing them to be-”
Pidge knows she’s still waking up but her world begins to take on a level of verticality she’s not used to at this hour of the morning. Moments before gravity wins out over friction and she tumbles to the floor she could swear she hears Lance murmur “Long live the king”
She tumbles to the ground like a Pidge sized sack of potatoes as she hears Lance releasing his grip on the edge of the mattress and letting it land with a thump back on their bed frame.
From her side of the bedroom floor, she groans, “Lance McClain, you fucking wang rod.”
She peels herself up off the ground and hears Lance’s chuckle and retreat into their bathroom and shuts the door, the sounds of the shower head turning on soon after. Pidge gives herself a moment of peace sitting at the end of their bed sipping her coffee and nibbling on one of Hunk’s cookie creations. She squints at the mid morning sun trying its best to cut through the blinds in their room.
She checks her own smart device and realizes they probably should get going soon if she wants to avoid her Mom’s ire. Her parents absolutely adore Lance; If they’re late, her family will (rightfully) blame her. Pidge rubs sleep from her eyes, downs the rest of her coffee and shoves the remaining cookie half in her mouth and makes her way towards the sounds of water and Lance’s indistinct Cubano warbling.
Lance pauses his singing briefly when through the foggy shower door he sees Pidge make her way to the sink. He resumes singing as her toothbrush turns on. His attention drawn to the shower he doesn’t notice that Pidge has finished or that she’s now moved to the toilet and sat down to relieve her bladder; the sounds of the shower, bathroom fan and song lyrics the only sounds for a moment.
FLUSH
“OWW FUCK!” screams Lance as he feels like his epidermis is being peeled away with a blowtorch.
“Really Pid-,” he’s cut short as his nekkid girlfriend brusquely invades his shower space and hip-checks him out from the shower flow. (ANT STRENGTH?!)
“Move over,” she begins lathering up and misses Lance’s incredulity scarred face, ”we’re going to be late.”
This isn’t the first time they’ve showered together. This is however one of a handful of times they’re actually focusing on showering and not other activities. Lance works his lanky frame back underneath the spray of the showerhead to finish his shower. Katie feels his naked body press against her back and behind. It’s far from innocent but aside from his lingering hands on her hips and hands casually getting to second base, he hops out of the shower without incident.
...and flushes the toilet on his way out, “GOD DAMN IT MCCLAIN!”
--
Pidge’s towel clad body pads it’s way back to their bedroom. She’s greeted by the welcoming sight of her boyfriend's bare ass as he stands in front of their closet clearly debating what to wear to Thanksgiving. She walks behind him and grabs a handful of each bootylicious cheek and places a kiss between his shoulder blades before walking to stand in front of her section of their shared closet. His side is organized like a compulsive organizer, her side looks like it’s organized by someone on LSD.
She looks over to see how he’ll respond to the casual grope. (and look at his naked form in profile)
His hand snatches the towel and throws it across the room far from either’s reach.
He looks over to see how she’ll respond to the theft. (and takes in her naked form)
Both forget that they’re in a rush and start an impromptu staring contest and make it 10 seconds before it devolves into silly faces and then another 15 seconds before they both break as they realize they’re both very naked.
Their laughing fit dies down as they share a hug that would in any other situation devolve into a lot of sex just 2 strides away in their bed but they chastely kiss and resume getting dressed.
“Happy Thanksgiving Goblin.”
“Happy Thanksgiving you asshole.”
--
Fully dressed; Lance in a pair of black chinos and a navy sweater over a simple collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Pidge in black leggings, with a dark green, thigh length sweater/hoodie dress, her shoulder sling bag crossing her chest. Both Paladins step into their trainers, throw on coats and make their way out the door.
The short ride to the Garrison base mega store is punctuated by Christmas music that has already monopolized the radio stations.
Eyes absently scanning the houses scrolling by, Lance comments, “Is it me or does it seem to get earlier every year?” He attempts switching to another station and could swear he’s still hearing the same song.
Pidge’s eyes continue to scan the mid-morning roads as she makes a turn towards the store, “No kidding, you’d think they could at least wait til tomorrow.”
The road’s are relatively quiet. Lance suspects it’s the divide between the early/late Thanksgiving diners. He’s annoyed about having to go to the store early on a holiday but he certainly doesn’t mind having the whole day to eat, drink, digest and repeat.
As they pull into the parking spot Pidge and Lance start mentally going over the menu items that Hunk sent out last week.
Pidge pinches a bit of the fabric of her sweater dress between her hands and pulls, “Super glad we decided to go with stretchy clothing.”
Lance loops a thumb into his waistline and gives it a gentle tug in agreement as the fabric deforms to his ministrations, “We’re gluttons.”
“Totally Hunks fault.”
“Agreed.”
--
The actual, you-should-never-go-to-a-supermarket-on-thanksgiving stop isn’t terrible; mostly due to just needing to pick up booze and not more critical Thanksgiving dinner items.
Walking through the store hand-in-hand, Pidge & Lance beeline it to the beer and wine section. They pick up several bottles of sparkling wine, two six packs of craft beer and the nicest brand of orange juice because “It’s the holidays,” and proceed to the checkout.
Surrounded by clearly every last minute shopper, they wait in line. They exchange envious commentary on other people’s shopping carts:
“Look at the pies!!”
Or snarky ones...
“Who buys a turkey the day of?”
“...clearly a psychopath.”
As they inch forward in line, Pidge pulls her phone out of her shoulder sling bag (She’s not a purse girl ya know) and mindlessly scrolls through stupid memes while Lance watches over her shoulder. An animated gif causes them to break out in laughter and earns them a few raised eyebrows that they don’t see.
As they reach the front of the line they exchange a quick peck on the lips before breaking apart to pay and leave the store.
Soon enough they’re back on the road and will only be 10 minutes late to the Holt household, not nearly enough to arouse suspicion or ire from her parents. They’re met at the door by Colleen, champagne flute in hand and she wraps them both up in a hug, somehow avoiding spilling a drop of her mimosa.
As Colleen pulls away she goes back in for a second motherly hug to Pidge and fondly cups Lance’s cheek and shoots him a welcoming smile before welcoming them inside.
Noticing the blush on her Mom’s face, Pidge narrows her eyes, “You totally started drinking without us!” noticing the depth of red flush on her cheeks, “you’re at least two flutes in!”
Colleen Holt blows a childish raspberry at her daughter, “Get bent daughter of mine.”
Matt comes from around his Mom & Sister’s laughter and wraps his lil sis in a huge hug. He then takes their jackets and makes sure they’re on their way to catching up by handing them their own mimosas. They cheers Colleen and Matt before sipping the first drink of the day.
Scanning the rest of the room, familiar faces greet them; Allura, Keith and Kroila are chatting quietly at one end of the couch, Allura and Keith hands linked between them. By the fireplace Coran and Sam burst out laughing, Shay is standing by trying to decipher the joke that’s flown over her head. By the large entertainment center Curtis and Shiro are wrangling their children and watching the Macy’s day parade on the television. Lance catches Veronica as she’s ferrying a plate to the serving table for Hunk and gives her a huge hug.
Lance & Pidge take the time to say hello to everyone but soon find themselves ensnared by the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen and beeline it to the kitchen knowing full well Hunk would be likely putting on last minute touches to the meal and they’d have the best chance to steal food while he was distracted. They find Cosmo has strategically layed down in the kitchen. He’s a bit farther away from the noisy bipeds and also very close to food scraps should they fall to the floor. Lance and Pidge make sure to give him scritches in greeting.
Hunk places down the piping bag he was decorating a cake with long enough to nearly crush the wind out of both of his best friends, “Happy Thanksgiving!!!”
He places them back on the ground as he hears a timer go off in the background and sends them one of his megawatt smiles before he resumes his finishing touches on the meal.
He quickly shoos them out once he catches Lance trying to pilfer a piece of the already sliced turkey but shows mercy and shoves a small plate of hors d'oeuvres into their hands to share, “Scram ya ingrates!!”
The pair walk back to the living room and unlink hands, Pidge annoyingly grabs a lion's share of the hors d’oeuvres as she pecks Lance’s cheek before heading over to say hi to Keith, Allura and Kroila. Curtis, Matt and Veronica let out a juvenile “oooooooooh” as Lance and Pidge shoot them dirty looks.
Veronica makes her way over and snags her little brother in a headlock. The two siblings are soon rapid-firing in their native Cuban, catching up on the mundane as well as discussing how in less than a month’s time they’ll be heading to Varadero to see their side of the family. Shocking no one with his in-grained Altean ability to quickly assimilate languages, Coran jumps in and soon the 3 are juggling a conversation getting caught up on how the Altean and the Princess have been as well as their travel plans for the following month.
Hunk’s booming voice announces from the kitchen that it’s time to eat. The adults are a couple drinks in and rosy cheeked as they settle into their seats. Lance and Pidge choose seats almost on opposite ends of the table to maximize catch-up time with their friends.
The room is filled with conversation as serving plates are passed around, refills of drinks or bottles of beer are passed around. Glasses are clinked together in celebration multiple times during the meal. The food is classic Hunk; otherworldly delicious, but the joy of their whole little family being back in one place and sharing a meal together has everyone’s mood flying higher than anything the alcohol and good food could do on its own.
With the first round of food down, everyone starts milling around the house, catching up on whatever sporting event is on in the afternoon, continuing to catch up and getting updates on what’s new in each other's lives almost like everyone doesn’t already keep in touch through frequent space transmissions and social media.
At some point someone starts up a Christmas adjacent kid movie and is firmly booed by everyone. Everyone gets over it and they all start half-watching the movie and half digesting the food baby from the first round of eating.
At some point Pidge passes out leaning against Lance, the food and drink putting her down for a quick cat-nap. Lance carefully extracts himself and lays her down on the couch and makes his way to the kitchen to grab a soda and walks in on Pidge’s parents slowly dancing in the kitchen to some Christmas Carol piped in through the kitchen sound system.. It’s disgustingly cute.
Noticing Lance they stop and turn towards him, each with a hand resting on their spouse’s hip. Lance suspects if it was Matt or Pidge that walked in they’d probably pretend to barf but seeing their PDA he can’t help but think of his parents and how he loved catching them taking a break from just being parents and remembering to be a couple.
The warm thought is soon ruined by Colleen AND Sam (clearly that 5th mimosa was working) assailing him with questions about when he’s going to propose to their daughter. Colleen keeps calling him “Future son-in-law” for the rest of the evening. He tries his best to ignore the awkward joy/anxiety in his gut as his likely future in-laws show no mercy making fun of him while Pidge snores away on the couch. He’ll make sure to put in a good word with his parents so she gets the 3rd degree from them come Christmas.
Later in the afternoon, Pidge has found her 2nd or 3rd wind as her and Matt compete on the Gamestation; the other guests cheering them on as Matt and Pidge trade smack-talk.
Lance eventually finds himself out on the back porch with a glass of water in hand and an empty dessert plate by his feet. His eyes drawn to the horizon watching the sunset.
Keith slides open the screen door and joins him. He has a beer in each hand and offers one to Lance. No words are exchanged. They clink bottles and both enjoy a quiet respite from the noise inside.
Before Lance can strike up a conversation he’s rudely interrupted by a sliiiiightly day-drinking level of inebriated Pidge’s loud proclamation, “SUCK IT MATT!! I WIN!” and everyone’s cheering from inside the house.
Lance doesn’t need to look back into the Holt household to know his girlfriend is mid victory dance and that it’s probably really embarrassing both for her AND her brother.
Instead he locks eyes with Keith as they both share the same smirk at the ridiculous family they’ve amassed over the years.
Their gaze returns to the red Arizona skyline. They hear what must be leftover fireworks from a family down the street and see the first couple fireworks shoot into the air and burst high in the setting Arizona sun.
Soon enough everyone’s come together into the Holt backyard, eyes skyward as they watch the amateur pyrotechnics presentation.
His eyes lock onto Pidge, her attention on the fireworks she doesn’t notice his gaze. He’s oblivious to the goofy lovestruck look on his face that everyone else notices.
His revelry is finally disturbed by Hunk’s beefy arm coming to rest on his shoulders. Hunk shoots a smile at his best friend and as their eyes mirror skyward as another fireworks bursts overheard he asks, “How’s everything?”
Lance isn’t sure if it’s the mimosas, or the 3rd plate of food, or the fireworks but he pauses to ponder his response. He sees Katie nestled in between her parents and her brother. She looks over at him and noticing him looking her way shoots him a flirty wink and one of her huge beautiful smiles before turning back to the fireworks.
Lance feels a slight shake from Hunk’s draped arm. Hunk inquires again, his smile even bigger as he realizes his 2 friends were busy making googly eyes at each other, “So…good I take it?”
Lance turns to his friend, noticing that Shay has moved her way over to grab Hunk’s other free arm, “Just perfect bro; just perfect.”