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MistleFOE
The First MistleFOE
“Lance, may I ask you a question?”
Lance looked up from his bowl of doctored-up food goo. Hunk had added some sort of ingredient to it to make it nearly palatable. The Princess, dressed in her usual lovely dress with her hair coiled elegantly at the back of her head, approached him across the kitchen. “Of course, Princess.”
“Would you have any idea why someone stuck a small plant on the ceiling in the lounge?”
“A small plant?”
“Yes. It’s quite curious. It’s on a string and hanging down right in the middle of the couches. It just showed up and when I asked Pidge about it, she laughed at me,” Allura said, a little pout forming on her lips. “Shiro did, too, and said it was probably you.”
Lance blinked a few times. “It wasn’t me,” he answered slowly. “It sounds like it’s mistletoe, but I didn’t hang it up.” He felt a little angry that Shiro automatically assumed it was him.
“Oh, alright. Shiro mentioned that I should stay away from it if you put it up. Is it poisonous?”
“No!” Lance said, his tone indignant. “No! I mean, well, the berries are, but you don’t eat them. At least they are to humans. Not, like, deadly, but can make you sick, I think.”
“Why would someone put something like that on the ship?”
Lance shrugged. “I honestly doubt It’s real mistletoe. Someone probably found something close to it and hung it up.”
“But, why?”
He shrugged, digging his spoon back into the goo mixture. “It’s an earth tradition thing. Most specifically for a celebration called Christmas.” His tone was now subdued. Was he missing the holiday with his family once again?
“Oh!” Allura said, her voice rising in excitement. She loved to hear about earth cultures, so she leaned against the counter, her hands clasped and lying on the smooth surface. “Tell me about it!”
“It’s silly,” he said after swallowing a blob of goo that suddenly felt like taffy. “You put it up somewhere and if you catch someone under it, you can kiss them.”
Allura pressed her lips together, her brow scrunching. “I thought Christmas was a celebration of a god being born,” she said. “How does forcibly kissing someone celebrate that?”
Lance hummed around another spoonful of goo. “Dunno,” he answered. “I honestly have no idea. There’s a bunch of Christmas things that don’t make sense. I think it was something like the pagans had a winter celebration and the Christians borrowed a bunch of their traditions. Something about making it easier to convert them.”
“What did they convert them to?”
“Their religion.”
“Why?”
“That’s what they did back then,” he said. His spoon scraped the last of the goo out of the bowl. “Pagan things were usually a little more,” he paused, “uh natural and connected to nature. Sometimes more, uh, frisky. Maybe that’s where the kissing thing came from.”
“Oh, I see,” Allura said. She unclasped her hands and tapped her fingers against the counter. “How fascinating. I can see why Shiro thought you put it there.”
“Nice,” he snorted. Sliding off the stool, he took his bowl to the space equivalent of a dishwasher.
She actually giggled. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sure.”
“I am! But, now I know that little, black plant isn’t your idea.”
“Black?” he asked, turning to look at her.
“Why, yes. The thing is black.”
“Huh. Usually mistletoe is green with berries.”
“This does have little berries, but all of it is black.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Most plants we’ve come across are still green.”
“Come and see. I promise I won’t stand underneath it,” she said, teasing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sure enough, the ‘mistletoe’ was black.
However, what was weird about it was that it was obviously painted black. It wasn’t a black plant. Lance stood under it, looking up and studying it. It was low enough that he could reach up and touch it, so he could see it clearly. He had no idea what type of plant it was, but they’d just been on a planet for a diplomatic visit, so anyone could have grabbed a local plant. But, why paint it black and hang it here like mistletoe?
Was it close to Christmas time? He had no idea. He knew Pidge kept track of things, but no one had mentioned it.
“Did Coran do this?” he asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the Princess. She stood against the wall to leave Lance no illusion she was under the kissing plant. He felt offended. “I know he has weird ideas.”
“Alteans don’t have any traditions that involve a black plant. At least, I never learned of one.”
“Then I don’t know.”
Just then, the door slid open and both Allura and Lance turned to see Hunk walk in. His face lit up when he saw Lance and Lance lifted his hand in greeting. Except, Hunk unexpectedly bounded down into the middle of the room and lunged at Lance, tackling him onto one of the couches. The hit caught him off guard and he screeched as Hunk body slammed him.
Allura rushed down toward them, hesitating at the edge of the couch backs. “Lance! Hunk!”
Hunk was laughing and Lance was squirming, trying to shove at the bulk holding him down. “Hunk, what the fuck?!”
After a moment, Hunk sat up, using Lance as leverage and pushing the air out of his lungs. Lance scrambled away along the couch, glaring at his friend. “Sorry!” Hunk said, running a hand over his hair. “I got excited!”
“You literally saw me a varga ago!”
“No, not to see you!”
“Nice!”
“It was you under the mistlefoe!”
Did he hear that right? “You mean the mistleTOE?”
“No!” Hunk’s voice was so light and full mirth that it made Allura smile. “MistleFOE!”
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s black, see?” Hunk said, pointing up. Though Lance already knew it was black, his gaze moved up to the plant. “You don’t kiss under mistlefoe. You tackle!”
“Who the fuck came up with that?”
“Not sure. It just showed up!”
“Then how do you know what it is?”
“Pidge! She got me earlier!”
“So Pidge put it up?” Allura asked.
“She said she didn’t. But I thought it was cool.”
“Warn a guy next time,” Lance grumbled, rubbing at his chest. Hunk seemed like a soft marshmallow, but he was solid muscle and strong.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
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The Second MistleFOE
Lance decided to avoid the lounge, because why put himself in the position for Hunk to tackle him again? Worse yet, Keith? Though, he didn’t honestly think Keith would participate. Not that Lance would mind being tackled by Keith, but yeah. No chance of the Mullet having fun. Or coming anywhere near Lance in order to attack him.
Keith rarely let himself pair up with Lance in the training deck, so why would he initiate any contact with Lance outside of it?
Too bad it wasn’t really mistletoe, though. Maybe Lance would try to hang around under that in order to get kissed.
No chance of Keith doing that either.
Apparently, however, the evil entity that hung it in the lounge didn’t rely on it staying in the lounge. The next victim was Shiro, tackled by an enthusiastic Princess, who had spent the last few days learning all sorts of Christmas traditions, though Lance explained to her many times that tackling under the mistlefoe wasn’t a thing. She thought it was a wonderful tradition, and when she noticed someone had hung up the black plant in the training room, she ran full force at poor, unsuspecting Shiro and flipped him in the air shouting “MistleFOE!”.
Okay, it was hilarious. Shiro’s expression of shock, fear, and, ultimately, betrayal made all the Paladins, Coran, and Krolia fall over laughing. Wiping tears from his eyes, Lance was awed at the sight of Keith and his visiting mother both lying on the floor with their own tears flowing from the strength of their laughter. He rarely saw Keith laugh like that. He didn’t think Krolia knew what laughter was, but the sight of Shiro flying through the air was too much even for the stoic Blade member.
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The Third MistleFOE
Pidge was the next victim. Lance’s suspicions fell to Coran after that incident. Coran had to have known the black plant was in the linen closet. Okay, linen closet might be the wrong word for the vast room filled with blankets and pillows and cushions enough to keep the otherwise sterile castle soft and warm. Lance thought that after ten thousand years the original items there had probably dissolved or rotted away. Apparently not. Not only were the textiles of Altea super soft and cuddly, they lasted forever.
Coran had directed Lance and Hunk to the linen storage that first day and the pair thought they’d stepped into heaven. Specifically, pillow fort heaven. Dreams of the massive pillow forts they could make immediately popped into both of their heads, dwarfing their sketchy, little forts made of thin blankets and flat pillows at the Garrison.
No, these would be epic and have multiple rooms.
Not that they ever had the time to build the epic pillow fort. They kind of kept busy with the whole Paladin thing. Still, it was nice to know it was a possibility, and Lance and Hunk kept the thought of it in their heads for some day in the future.
Coran suggested that Lance and Pidge head to the linen room to fetch some blankets for their guests. Some of the Blade and coalition members were coming to the castle for…something. Lance thought it was some sort of meeting to plan their next major push against the Galra. Allura was vague when he asked about it when he and Hunk went on a food supply run. No one seemed sure of the specifics and it irritated him, but he went with the flow of things. What else could he do?
Now, he was trekking down the dim hallway leading to the linen room, listening to Pidge complain about doing such a mundane task when she could be working on her current project. When Lance asked about the current project, she gave him a startled look and mumbled something incoherent that he didn’t understand. It wasn’t something strange – he rarely understood what she talked about.
They’d arrived, so he mentally shrugged to himself and opened the door for her. “Coran said the blankets were vacuum packed in the back to the left. Second shelf.”
“How many did he say?” she asked as she stepped in, nearly tripping over the cushions strewn about the floor. “What the hell?” she exclaimed, trying to catch her balance.
“MistleFOE!”
A blur of orange and mustache rushed past Lance and pounced on Pidge, sending her tumbling to the floor. Her scream would have been more robust in the training room or lounge, but all the fabric and padding in the room muffled it. It still must have satisfied Coran, who stood over her with a pleased expression and twirled at his mustache as if he just hadn’t terrified Pidge.
“Coran!” Lance gasped. “You’re the one?”
“The one what, my boy?”
“The mistlefoe elf?”
“I don’t know what an ‘elf’ is, number three. Is it like a Yelmore?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Either way, I had nothing to do with the mistlefoe. I noticed it hanging here when I came down for the blankets.”
“You already have the blankets?” Pidge fumed from her undignified seat. Her glasses were askew and her wild hair was in more disarray than normal.
“Well, of course. I set this up as a trap. I was hoping to attack Lance here, but you were the one under the little plant,” he reasoned, pointing up above Pidge’s head.
Pidge proceeded to tell Coran exactly what she thought of him in language so colorful that Lance had to flee. He wanted as much space between him and the mistlefoe as possible.
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The Fourth MistleFOE
“We’ve narrowed it down to two people,” Lance said. “Three if you count Krolia.”
“I highly doubt Krolia has the sense of humor to do this. I don’t think she could pull a prank if her life depended on it,” Hunk reasoned.
“Still, she was rolling on the floor laughing when Shiro got it.”
“True.”
“And Keith’s dad banged her. She must have had some attractive qualities.”
“Other than being incredibly hot?”
“Hunk! Ugh! That’s Keith’s mom!” Lance protested.
“Mom or not, she’s hot. You can’t disagree.”
“Well, no, I can’t.”
“Especially since Keith looks like her.”
After a bit of sputtering, Lance tried to steer their discussion away from Keith and back to the matter at hand. Who the fuck was leaving this damn mistlefoe everywhere? “Anyway. We’re down to three if we count Krolia.”
“Three?”
“Krolia, Keith, and Shiro,” Lance listed, ticking them off on his fingers.
“But Shiro got tackled,” Hunk pointed out.
“That could have been to throw us off.”
“Dude, he looked totally surprised.”
“Maybe he’s a good actor.”
“Shiro can’t lie to us, though. Have you seen him try?”
That stumped Lance, because, yeah, he’d seen Shiro try to lie to the other Paladins. Even white lies were impossible for their leader. “Still, maybe he forgot he put it there. Because if it’s not Shiro, it’s Keith and Keith has a sense of humor worse than a block of wood.”
“Oh, come on. That’s not nice.” Then Hunk grinned. “You know you think he’s funny.”
Lance glared at his friend. “So?”
“He could totally be behind it.”
“But, why?”
“He likes to attack things. Maybe this is his way to attack us?”
“He hasn’t attacked anyone yet. Other than the time in the training room, he hasn’t been anywhere near the mistlefoe.”
They turned the corner in the mazelike hallways of the castle. They were heading toward the healing pod room, which Coran wanted cleaned. Why, Lance had no idea, but it was something to do. This main hallway was large, with high ceilings where the light shone dimly. It was Lance’s least favorite hallway to walk through, full of shadows and drafts. It may or may not have anything to do with when the castle went freaky and seemed to want to kill them.
His wariness was not helped by the shriek of “MistleFOE!”, followed by a scream. Lance stumbled back, though it was apparent he wasn’t the target. A green blur fell from the ceiling to land on Hunk, causing the big guy to stumble to the side. Luckily, Hunk kept his balance and put his hands up to secure Pidge, who somehow draped herself now over his shoulders.
Lance leaned against the wall, hand clutching at his heart. “Pidge!”
“Gotcha!” she yelled between giggles.
Hunk’s scared face settled into a laugh. “You did! Again!”
Lance glanced up and, sure enough, the black mistlefoe hung from the end of the open vent screen. “Were you waiting in the air ducts for someone to walk by?”
“Yeah!”
“You seriously need to quit lurking in there.” Lance pushed off the wall, though his heart was still racing. “You could have hurt one of us.”
“Nah, I know what I’m doing,” she assured him. She stayed perched on Hunk’s shoulders and lifted her head enough to grin at him.
“So you hung the mistlefoe?”
“Nope. I saw it there, nice and convenient, and figured I’d wait and pounce.”
Hunk laughed, jiggling Pidge a little. He slid her off, steadying her on her feet. “Good one. Scared me almost senseless, but good one.”
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The Fifth MistleFOE
This was ridiculous. How the fuck did the evil elf get the mistlefoe here? From the castle and into this forest and up in that tree and hanging there all innocent as Hunk and Lance trekked through looking for some sort of fruit that Coran said he needed for the big diplomat dinner or whatever it was.
Hunk was at one end of a clearing a good distance from their lions. Their bayards were in their hands, though not engaged into weapons. They had been told the planet had few apex predators, and those weren’t especially dangerous. “Of course,” Coran informed them, “it has been ten thousand years, so who knows?”
They moved cautiously, eyes scanning the ground for the vines indicating the presence of the fruit. Lance’s eyes darted from the hologram projecting from his wrist device to the ground, cursing the fact that one vine looked much like another and he couldn’t tell if this vine was the one for the fruit or the one with the poisonous leaves. Was this fruit that good that it was worth the risk?
Come to think of it, they were going all out for this fucking dinner. He still hadn’t ferreted out what the purpose for it was. Hunk, who was doing the majority of the cooking for it, didn’t even know. Or said he didn’t know. Lance suspected a lie there, because Hunk said he didn’t know without meeting Lance’s eye. Hunk did that when he lied. He had said the other day that Shiro was a terrible liar. Hunk was worse.
It was annoying.
He scanned the ground again and decided it was the right vine. Lance glanced over his shoulder to look at Hunk and tell him that he’d found the fruit (he hoped) but before he could open his mouth, someone screamed “Mistlefoe!” and the next thing he knew he was on his back and flailing his arms and legs to squirm out from beneath the person on top of him.
“Keith, you ass!” he yelled, shoving at the solid form above him. He felt his face flush bright red and hoped that the visor of his helmet hid it. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Mistlefoe’ing you!”
Lance froze as he focused on Keith’s face. His helmet was off and his hair hung down, framing his face, but not hiding the huge grin, shining eyes, and openly joyful expression. Lance became conscious of Keith’s weight atop him, the way Keith's knee was wedged between his knees, the arm that pressed across his chest, which he swore he felt the heat from despite his armor, the other hand that clasped his bicep to hold him to the ground. All these points battled in his mind with the overarching thought that Keith was pinning him to the ground and that sent his mind into places it shouldn’t go.
Hunk’s laughter broke the spell he’d been put under. Lance’s heart started beating again, a little too rapidly, and he felt the blood rush through his body. “Ass,” he called Keith again. “There’s no mistlefoe here! Unless it’s buried in that rat’s nest on your head!”
The insults didn’t seem to bother Keith. He simply kept grinning down at Lance. “Sure there is,” he drawled, letting go of Lance’s arm and pointing up.
Lance couldn’t help but follow the direction he pointed. Sure enough, that fucking bundle of black plant was hanging directly above them. How!? “You did this!” he accused, taking advantage that Keith had let go of him and shoved the Red Paladin off him (as nice as it was he was there). “You’re the evil monster that’s planting this stupid thing everywhere!”
“Says who?” Keith said, lying on his side, head propped up by his hand.
“Says me,” Lance said, sitting up and staring at the grinning idiot. “How else would you know it was there?”
“I saw it,” Keith answered. “Couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
“How’d you put it there?”
“Why do you think I did?”
“Who else?”
“Anyone could have,” Keith shrugged. He rolled to his knees and got up. “I got you anyway,” he said, laughing and pointing a finger at him. “I win!”
With that, he spun and marched out of the clearing leaving a spluttering Lance sitting on his butt and a Hunk rolling with laughter on the ground.
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And The MistleTOE
Lance couldn’t believe it.
He. Could. Not. Believe. It.
A tree! Decorations! Presents! Food!
Christmas.
He was overwhelmed.
And all a surprise for him.
“We knew how much you missed your family last Christmas,” Hunk said, his arm heavy around Lance’s shoulder and squeezing in a side hug. “You’ve been doing everything to take care of us since this whole thing started. We wanted to thank you and give you Christmas as best we could.”
Lance wasn’t ashamed of the tears that kept falling too frequently. He was so touched at all the effort. The tree wasn’t exactly a pine tree. The food was not the traditional Cuban food Abuela made. There were no Santas, snowmen, or reindeer. But, there was love. A lot of love. Lance didn’t think his heart had ever felt so full.
There was also no big coalition dinner. It was a cover for the surprise party. Krolia and, surprisingly, Kolivan were there, as was Matt Holt. All the little supply missions they’d gone on the past few movements were for things for the party – or to get Lance out of the castle in order to set everything up in this out-of-the-way room.
Though Coran tried to pass around Nunvil to everyone, Kolivan had brought an alcoholic beverage from a planet the Blade had freed that tasted a million times better than the rancid shit in Coran’s hands. It was a mellow spirit, that didn’t get one drunk, but did give the drinker a pleasant, light feeling.
The party was so much fun; Kolivan had actually cracked three smiles throughout the evening. The spirit that Kolivan brought must have hit Galra harder than humans, because Kolivan and Krolia retired early. At least, that’s what Lance told himself, because he wasn’t prepared to think about Kolivan and Krolia getting it on in the guest room. He hadn’t had enough alcohol to deal with that. Shiro was by the tree, teaching Allura how to sing “Jingle Bells” and Lance stood by the food table with Hunk, watching Matt, Keith, and Pidge spin a makeshift Dreidel.
“So what was up with the mistlefoe?” he suddenly asked.
“Oh!” Hunk said, looking a little abashed. He was piling a plate with some of the little appetizers he’d made. “Yeah, that was all of us.”
“All of you?”
“Well, it was originally Keith’s idea. But we were all in on it.”
“What!?”
“Yeah, so, he painted it black,” Hunk said, waving a hand holding some sort of savory pastry. “And hung it up in the lounge. I wasn’t supposed to tackle you or anything, but man, when I saw you standing there looking at that thing, I don’t know what came over me.” Here, Hunk chuckled. “Okay, yeah I did. When Keith explained it, I thought it’d be so fun. I mean, come on! Tackling someone in fun? So much better than fighting robots and stuff.”
“I guess…” Lance said, uncertain.
“So, even though I wasn’t supposed to tackle you, I did. I couldn’t resist.”
“So, who was supposed…?”
“Oh my god, are you finally telling Lance about the mistlefoe?” Pidge’s voice interrupted Lance. She had left Keith and Matt to the Dreidel.
“Yeah,” Hunk said.
“I can’t believe Allura that one day. She wasn’t supposed to attack Shiro, but we’d been filling her head with this fake tradition and she got carried away!”
“Did you see Shiro’s face?” Hunk gasped between laughs.
“That was one of the most amazing things I’d ever seen!”
“Shiro flying across the room in a slow cartwheel!” Hunk crowed. “He look so betrayed!”
“Well, yeah! He wasn’t expecting it!” Pidge cackled. “Not when it was supposed to be…”
“Ah, yes, Paladins. Clueing Number Three here in on the mistlefoe, are we?” Coran asked, joining them at the food table.
“You didn’t help matters, Coran.”
Lance finally got a sentence in. “What did Coran do?”
“Well, he set up the linen room thing. He was supposed to just put the mistlefoe there and leave it,” Pidge said.
“I could not help myself,” Coran protested. “It was great fun to run in there and tackle you instead.”
“But I wasn’t the target!”
“No, and I regret frustrating Number Four that way. But, it was worth it to see the look on your face, Number Five.”
“Number Four? Keith? Why would he be…?” Lance tried, only to be interrupted by Shiro.
“I’m still not happy about being tossed around by the Princess. I knew she was strong, but dang,” Shiro said.
“Such language, Dad,” Pidge teased. Shiro shot her a sad look that had most of the rest of them laughing. Not Lance. This whole conversation had him thoroughly confused. Keith, it seemed, had planned all these things with some intention, but Lance couldn’t figure out what that was. It was so out of character for Keith. At least, on the surface. It didn’t surprise Lance too much that Keith had a fun and mischievous side. One could see glimmers of it if one looked past the serious and guarded expressions Keith usually wore.
Still, this mistlefoe thing was mysterious. Why would Keith go through all the effort, and get frustrated when the other helpful Paladins messed things up? What were they messing up?
“At least we didn’t fuck up the last one,” Pidge said.
“Now there’s a reason for a language scolding,” Shiro said in a stern voice that earned him an eye roll. “Hey, you called me out for ‘dang’.”
“‘Dang’ is a strong word for you,” she said. “‘Fuck’ is not one for me.”
“Stop!” Lance yelled, reaching the point of frustration. “Seriously!”
“What, Lance?” Hunk asked.
“You keep saying Keith did these things deliberately, but not why! And why was he getting mad about you guys doing the mistlefoe thing? Wasn’t it the point of the mistlefoe? To attack someone who didn’t expect it? You guys were doing that!”
“Uh, yeah, dumbass. But we weren’t supposed to,” Pidge said.
“Pidge…” Shiro warned.
“I don’t get it.”
Now, each of their expressions shaded over with slight guilt as they all looked in turn at each other. “Uh,” Hunk started. “Well…”
“See, we weren’t the intended, um, targets,” Shiro said.
“I forgot about it when I saw Shiro under the mistlefoe,” Allura said.
“And I remembered, but couldn’t resist,” Coran chimed in.
“And I just wanted to attack Hunk,” Pidge explained. “I mean, who wouldn’t?”
“Twice!” Hunk protested.
“Who was the intended target?” Lance asked. All of them turned their gazes on him, which made him extremely uncomfortable. “Me?”
Like a synchronized unit, they all nodded.
“So Keith was setting it up for me to be constantly attacked?” That…kind of hurt, to be honest? “He wanted all of you to attack me? I mean, I know we’re rivals and all that, but wow!”
“Uh, not exactly,” Hunk said, shuffling uneasily on his feet.
“Then what?”
“It was for him to attack you,” Shiro said, his voice gentle.
“See? He got his way on that last one. On that planet,” Hunk said, trying to make it sound cheerful.
“Why did he want to attack me?”
Pidge let out a long-suffering sound of a sigh. “See? Told you he was a dumbass.”
“Pidge…” Shiro repeated in that same tone.
“No, really. Why would Keith want to constantly jump on top of you? Idiot. You’re both idiots.”
“Keith…” Allura tried to say.
“No,” Pidge interrupted, “if he wanted to climb all over Lance so bad, just tell this dumbass that he likes him. Then they can climb all over each other instead of making it so damn complicated.”
“Wait, what? Keith likes me?”
“Duh!”
“Why wouldn’t he just use mistletoe? Attacking me isn’t the way to tell me you like me!”
Pidge shrugged. “Maybe it’s some Galra thing,” she suggested, losing interest in the conversation and wandering away with a final muttered “Dumbasses”.
Lance spun to look at Hunk, his hands spread in front of him. “Buddy!”
“Uh, I need to grab some more appetizers,” Hunk hedged, nervously taking a few steps back. “So, yeah,” he added, pointing his fingers toward the door. “Imma do that.”
Coran and Allura also stammered excuses about checking out what was going on…somewhere else…and hastily rushed away. That left Shiro, who looked like a deer in headlights. His drink was lifted halfway to his lips, but he froze, staring at Lance with wide eyes.
“Shiro?”
“Uh…”
“Keith likes me?”
Shiro, of course, couldn’t lie for anything. He shifted a little, reached up his free hand to rub at the back of his neck, then cleared his throat. “I really shouldn’t say anything.”
“Yes, you should.”
“Lance, uh, if Keith likes you, he should tell you.”
“I’ll tell him if I know it will go somewhere!”
The deer-in-headlights expression morphed into something more excited. “Seriously? I thought so, but Keith never believed me.”
“So, he does like me?”
“I won’t confirm it. But, I will say you might want to go find him right now.”
Lance hated the way his heart lurched, but he couldn’t believe this unexpected development. Normally, he would want to take time to process this and, like Keith apparently, plan some complicated and elaborate plan to ensnare the attention of his crush. But, he didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to let this opportunity pass by. He didn’t want time to talk himself out of it. He took a deep breath and gave Shiro a determined look. “I will. I just need to find something first.”
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In the end, it was simple. Not a complicated plot such as Keith concocted over the past couple of weeks. Keith was the dumbass, wasting time when he could have been kissing on Lance this whole time. And why make it into something violent? When he cornered Pidge after declaring his intention to Shiro, she suggested that Keith did the mistlefoe to save face, in case Lance didn’t like him back. Besides, Keith probably didn’t want Lance kissing anyone else, so if it were mistleTOE, Lance might have used it to kiss someone else.
As if he wanted to kiss anyone else.
“So,” he drawled, sidling up to Keith and shoving an elbow into his side. He’d found Keith on one side of the tree, Kolivan’s drink in hand, probably hiding from too much social interaction. Keith huffed out an ‘oof’ as Lance hit him and lifted his free hand to rub at his side.
“So, what?” he asked shooting a suspicious glare at Lance while he steadied his drink.
“So,” he drawled again. “The mistlefoe was all you, huh?”
“Says who.”
“All your friends ratted you out.”
Keith snorted, turning his head to scowl in the direction of those friends. “I guess I can’t trust anyone.”
“Why mistlefoe, though?” Lance asked.
“Sounded fun.”
“Attacking people sounded fun?” Lance shook his head. “You’ve got a fucked up idea of fun.”
“Well…” Keith said, but didn’t expand any further.
“You should have just used mistletoe. Kissing is much more fun than attacking,” Lance said, side-eyeing Keith, who was still scowling but now with a faint blush. He waited until Keith lifted the drink to his lips. “Of course, it did get you on top of me eventually.”
Success! Spit take!
Keith spluttered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Lance reached behind Keith to pat him on the back as he coughed. “What?” the poor guy gasped out.
“If you wanted to be on top of me so bad, Mullet, you went about it the wrong way.”
Catching his breath, Keith straightened and looked Lance in the eyes, his expression wary. “Why do you think I wanted to be on…top…of you?” he asked, stumbling over the word.
“My informants,” Lance said, stressing the plural ‘s’ as he gestured vaguely, “informed me that you hung the mistlefoe up with the intention of me being the victim. I was informed that you were getting upset with everyone for spoiling your good time. I was informed by the look on your face when you finally got me on my back that you were smugly happy you succeeded.”
“That. No. That…it doesn’t…”
“Keith,” Lance said, interrupting whatever Keith was trying to deny. “You made things way too complicated. Let me simplify it for you.”
Lance, for all his fake bravado, felt his heart practically beat out of his chest. It took everything in him to appear smooth and confident while inside he was a puddle of food goo. He pulled the hand he’d been hiding behind his back forward, lifting it up above his head. Dangling from his fingers was something green tied with a red ribbon he’d borrowed from Allura. It didn’t look like mistletoe, but at least it wasn’t painted black.
Keith’s eyes followed Lance’s and narrowed when he saw the little green plant. “What is that?”
Lance looked up at it too. “What it actually is, I’m not sure. It’s part of the tree, but I figured it can play the part of mistletoe for now.”
Keith’s eyes jerked back down, meeting the sly smile Lance was now giving him. Lance hoped Keith couldn’t see how nervous he was, smell the sweat he could feel forming, hear the way his heart beat like a panicked bird in a cage. “Mistletoe?” Keith gasped out.
“MistleToe,” Lance confirmed, stressing the ‘t’ sound. “You do know what you do under mistletoe, don’t you, Mullet?”
The expected brow furrow and frown started to form. “Of course, I do, I’m not an idio…”
And Lance stopped him with a kiss.
And Keith dropped his drink.
And Lance dropped the mistletoe. It had done its job.
Anyway, they needed their hands to grab onto each other. Lance tangled his fingers (finally) into Keith’s hair where they felt at home. Keith grabbed at him roughly, as if he couldn’t believe it was happening, that Lance’s tongue was in his mouth, and that Lance was willingly in his arms. Lance had a fleeting thought about it being a good thing the tree hid them because they had a lot of pent up heat to let out.
After what seemed like a quick eternity, they parted to stare at each other, panting, with mussed clothes and mussed hair. Lance had so many things to say that he couldn’t pick one. And despite the fact that they’d just had their tongues in each other’s mouths, Keith looked uncertain and all Lance wanted to do was wipe that look from his eyes.
“Isn’t that simpler?”
Keith slowly nodded, his hands clutching at Lance’s shoulders. “Uh,” he said, licking his lips. “Yeah.”
“Good. Because I love you, and I think you feel the same?” Keith nodded, but before he could open his mouth to say it, Lance continued. “And some rascal hung the mistlefoe in my bedroom. Be a shame if someone were to jump on me and tackle me into my bed.”
The transformation in Keith’s eyes sent his heart out the airlock. Amusement, desire, and most of all, love, sparkled there. “You better be careful getting ready for bed, then.”
“Maybe someone should protect me,” Lance suggested.
“Count on me,” Keith said, letting go of his shoulders to grab his hand and tugging him toward the door.
“What?” Lance asked, his whole body feeling giddy. “To mistlefoe me or protect me?”
Keith grinned at him over his shoulder. “Both. Both is good.”