Chapter Text
Lance walked through the bay doors and took a deep breath as he looked up at the imposing spacecraft that loomed in front of him. This is it, he thought , swallowing down a rush of nervousness, Don’t be a chicken, Lance. Man up. Go to space school, learn to fight aliens. Maybe even date some hot aliens. He took another deep breath and hoisted his backpack up onto his shoulders and began the walk towards the ramp, doing his very best not to think of the family he left behind back at the security checkpoint.
“You’re going to be amazing , Lance.” His mother had said proudly, her small hands on his shoulders, smiling even as tears streamed down her face. “We’re so proud of you.”
His father had nodded in agreement, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he grinned broadly. “We’ll miss you, son. Especially your brother. Especially when it’s his turn to wash the dishes.” Manuel sent a sly look over at his younger son, who stuck his tongue out.
“I’ll make sure to send lots of postcards.” Lance assured, a smile spreading across his face. “Any space souvenirs you guys want me to bring back?”
“Your sister wants an alien pet.” Gabriela said. “But don’t bring one back, please. You’ve seen how she is with animals.” Lance snorted, and exchanged a knowing glance with his brother. They’d both been witness to Bella’s long running list of ‘exotic’ pets, and the chaos they’d caused.
The intercom speaker crackled to life, startling the family into motion. “Garrison flight A-160B will now begin boarding. All new recruits head to gate A-6 for flight confirmation and check in,” the voice announced. “I repeat, Garrison flight A-160B will momentarily begin boarding at gate-”
Lance chewed on his lip as the announcement continued, and looked at his family, a wave of homesickness crashing over him. “I’ll miss you,” he said quietly, all joking gone from his tone. The smell of homemade meals and spice washed over him as his mother pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “I’ll miss you too, mi hijo.” Gabriela said, burying her face in his shirt. His brother joined in on the hug, wrapping his skinny arms around both his mother and Lance. “Go kick some Alien ass for me, bro.” Sam whispered fiercely, and Lance felt the sharp sting of tears.
Last but not least, Manuel enveloped the whole family in his arms. “Make us proud, son.” He said. “And make sure to come home safe.”
Lance extracted himself from the warm embrace of his family and swiped at his eyes viciously. “I’ll come back,” he said firmly, trying not to let his lower lip wobble. “I promise.”
And then Lance turned away from everything that he had ever known, and walked through the bay doors towards his future, telling himself that he didn’t regret it at all.
He squinted down at his ticket, and then looked up at the flashing board in front of him. “Gate A-160B..” He muttered, scanning the screen for any matching numbers. “....A-106B….”
A flashing red notification popped up at the lower left half of the screen and Lance choked on his own spit. ‘Last call for flight A-160B, Departure in T- minus 10 minutes ’ He spun around to look for the gate signs, and stumbled as he nearly tripped on his own feet. “Mierda!” He hissed, and bolted down the A corridor, his jacket nearly flying off his shoulders. “No way! No fucking way am I missing this flight!!”
Already visions of disaster flashed in his mind. I’ll have to go into hiding! Lance thought dejectedly. I could never face my family again! Lance pictured himself slinking back out of the spaceport, skulking in the shadows like a fugitive. He’d have to live under bridges, and eat food from McDonalds dumpsters! An extra burst of terror upped Lance’s speed, and he practically flew down the hallway, narrowly avoiding crash collisions with innocent passerby. Finally a sign that read Gate A-6 flashed above him, and Lance skidded to a halt, his skinny chest heaving. A small trickle of Garrison recruits were still coming in from all around, and he heaved a sigh of relief. There were no McDonalds dumpsters or bridges in his future.
He shouldered his backpack and straightened his jacket in an effort to compose himself. After all, a future fighter pilot had to make a lasting first impression. He flashed the pass check attendant a winning smile and pulled out his ticket and Garrison ID. The waiting attendant held out his hand for his ID badge, and Lance handed it over with a smirk. “I’m Lance, Lance McClain-”
“-All Earth recruits to the corridor on my right.” The attendant said tiredly, raising one unimpressed eyebrow at a rapidly deflating Lance. He handed the badge back to the brunette recruit and ushered him into the ship with a final order to stow his bags in the storage lockers. Lance discreetly stuck out his tongue at the attendant when he was sure he wasn’t looking, and sulked down the hall. So much for a first impression. Granted, being late probably hadn’t helped him much. Whatever. I’ll just have to blow them all away during training. The thought cheered him up a bit, and he whistled a merry tune on his way down to the ship.
It was…………. It was kind of a hunk of junk. Lance couldn’t help but feel a stab of disappointment as he looked at the shuttlecraft that was supposed to carry him to his bright and glorious future as a fighter pilot. It was dented and scratched, and the paint job was flaking away at the edges. ‘Nita’s toy jet could probably fly better than this scrap metal . Lance thought, appraising the craft with a critical eye. But there on the right side of the craft was the Garrison logo that Lance had dreamed of since he was a little boy. Despite the less-than favorable condition of the ship itself, the logo was flawless and brightly painted, and it filled Lance with a renewed sense of determination.
After flashing his recruit ID at another waiting guard, he cautiously stepped onto the ship, wincing as the floor creaked underneath his feet. He squinted down at his ticket again, and then looked at the branching hallways that spread before him. His ticket information stated that he’d be grouped together with Squad 3, so Lance eyeballed the corridor numbers again, and went down the hallway on his left. He passed several other recruits on his way, and after (unsuccessfully) charming the hell out of several students, he managed to find Squad Room 3.
Lance stowed his bags in one of the available lockers, and swallowed down a burst of nervousness as he went to unlock the door. These were going to be his teammates, the people he was going to work with for the rest of his academic career. What if they’re all assholes? What if they hate me?? What if-
His internal monologue of panic was interrupted as the door slid open to reveal a tired looking kid with a mop of brown hair. “You coming in or not? The ship won’t lift off unless we’re all here and accounted for.”
Lance stared down at the kid, his eyes wide. “You’re short,” he said intellegently, and the kid raised their eyebrows.
“You’re staring,” The kid responded, their eyes narrowing. “I’m Pidge, and you’re blocking the traffic.”
Pidge then stepped back and took a seat one of the chairs, buckling themselves in with a smooth kind of efficiency. Lance stared, still to surprised to move, as they pulled out a small gadget (weren’t all unauthorized electronics prohibeted?) and began to tap furiously at the screen.
Lance uttered a very manly squeak as someone gently tapped his shoulder. “I’m Hunk,” a voice said from behind him, and lance scrambled into the room and faced his attacker, and immediately cowered. Hunk was large and imposing, with hands that could probably smush Lance’s face in one go. But his eyes were kind and a smile was spreading across his face. “Yo, dude, I didn’t mean to startle you but you were blocking the door.” Hunk said apologetically. “I was grabbing my chips from the locker before they shut the door for good.”
Lance chuckled and stepped aside, allowing the bigger man to pass. “Nah man, I get you. How’d you sneak the chips though? They confiscated all my food at the security checkpoint.”
Hunk waggled his eyebrows mysteriously and said nothing. Pidge looked up at the two of them for a moment, then resumed their mysterious tapping, but there was a faint smile on their face. “Hang on,” Lance said, looking around the room. “Isn’t there supposed to be four of us?”
Pidge nodded, still engrossed in their tech, and said, “Yeah. I was hoping the other guy would be with you. Maybe he’s a no-show.”
Hunk glanced over at the door, and popped a chip into his mouth. “Or maybe he’s just late,” he said. “But whoever he is, he’d better hurry. They close the shuttle doors in just a couple of minutes.”
“I bet he just chickened out.” Lance scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “Not everyone is cut out for this kind of a mission. It takes a real man to go out into space.”
“Thanks,” said an unfamiliar voice from the doorway, and Lance stifled another manly noise as he swung around. The newcomer was glaring down at him with a pair of unsettling dark violet eyes. Lance bristled, immediately set on edge, and began sizing up the competition. Tall, dark and (reluctantly admitted) handsome was tall, maybe a bit shorter than Lance himself, and sported an impressive black mullet. He was clutching a faded red jacket in one hand, and a water bottle in the other. Lance was not impressed.
“Where’ve you been?” Pidge questioned, scowling up at the newcomer. “You’ve been delaying departure.”
The new guy shrugged and slumped down in the seat farthest away from lance. “I ran into a few complications with my boarding pass.” He said, and buckled his seat belt. Hunk offered the stranger a chip, which was politely declined, and then held the bag out to Lance who gratefully grabbed a handful.
“I’m Lance.” He said, and extended a hand. Lance had been raised right, and even if the stranger was a bit standoffish and quiet, he deserved a proper greeting.
“Keith.” The stranger said, and then turned away towards the window, completely ignoring Lance’s outstretched hand. Lance’s face morphed into an expression of disbelief, and he exchanged a dubious look with Hunk and popped another chip into his mouth. Can you believe this guy? He mouthed, and Hunk shrugged, mournfully staring down at his now-empty chip bag.
The ship rumbled to life, and a voice came over the intercom announcing departure. Lance plastered himself to the window as they took off, watching his whole world dwindle into a tiny speck behind him. He bit his lip and then turned away from the window, not trusting his eyes to remain dry. He caught Keith watching him with a raised eyebrow, and his earlier words floated back through his mind. It takes a real man to go out into space…
Lance realized right then and there that he hated Keith. I’m gonna kick this dude’s ass, Lance decided. God help you Keith, cuz you and your stupid fucking mullet are going down.