a little post-canon Plance oneshot
Prompt: “I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.” (courtesy of Pinterest)
“Can I stay at your place tonight?”
“Hey Lance, nice to hear from you.”
“Look, Pidge, I’ve had a rough day and I really need a drink and an evening with my best friend.”
Ten minutes after the phone call Pidge buzzed Lance into her building. He turned up at her door still in his Galaxy Garrison officer’s uniform, hair a complete mess, and his messenger bag over his shoulder.
“Did you come here straight from work?” She asked.
Lance collapsed in a heap on the couch. “I stopped for a burger on the way.”
Pidge went into her room. The bottom drawer of her dresser was all Lance’s stuff, mostly spare clothes. She picked sweats and a T-shirt at random and tossed them at his face on her way to the kitchen. “Get changed then come and pick your poison.”
He shot her a lazy salute then hauled himself to the bathroom. Pidge considered her booze cabinet. Last time Shiro was here he’d expressed a lot of concern about how much alcohol she kept at her place. Once a space dad, forever a space dad, and it’s only gotten worse since he and Curtis adopted a baby a few months ago.
Really, she just liked having a variety to pick from. She’s had some of these bottles for three or four years.
Pidge poured herself a scotch. Lance emerged and sat himself on the stool across the counter from her. He seemed marginally less cranky.
“What can I get you?” She playfully tossed a kitchen towel over her shoulder like a bartender.
“Then a rum and coke, please.”
“Coming right up.” Lance just rested his head in his hand while he watched her mix the drink. Pidge half expected him to drink it all in one go when she slid the glass over. But he closed his eyes and took one sip, as if savoring the taste.
“Any time.” She picked up her own drink. “So what brings you down to the local watering hole tonight?”
“At least half my students failed their flight midterms.” He took a deeper swig of his drink. “The other faculty are riding my ass to improve their scores.”
Pidge frowned. “That sounds like it’s on the kids.”
He rubbed his forehead, eyebrows all scrunched together. “But I’m their instructor, right? Their work reflects mine. I’m worried I’m not cut out for teaching them.”
“These are recruits, right?”
“Half of them are getting weeded out of the program after this year anyway.”
She chewed her lip. Pidge wasn’t one for empty platitudes. It felt too much like lying and not substantial enough to be of any help. That said, she’d learned the hard way Lance was sensitive and didn’t always respond to super direct advice.
Actually that did give her an idea. “You haven’t been teaching long, Lance. Some of it’s going to be trial and error. So if you think they’re not learning, try a different method.” She took his free hand and rubbed his fingers where they curled around hers. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’ll figure it out. Also…I know you. I know you’ll be there for your students no matter what. There’s no way you’re not ‘cut out’ for this.”
Lance gave her such a soft smile her bones suddenly became like 30% jelly. He leaned forward a bit and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Pidge. I’m lucky you’re in my life.”
Pidge’s face heated. She awkwardly extracted her hand and downed the rest of her scotch. Then poured herself another. “Any time. Next time I have a robot explode I’ll come crying about it to you and crash at your place again.”
Lance held out his glass towards hers expectantly. She clinked them together and they both drank. “It’s practically a tradition now. I have like half of your pajamas at home.”
They moved to the couch and continued talking for a while. Catching up with him felt nice. Actually, nice wasn’t strong enough a word. His presence felt warm and comforting. A metaphorical fuzzy blanket. Both their schedules were so busy that Pidge hadn’t properly seen him in over a week. That was…too long.
When Pidge started yawning Lance tugged her up and led her to her bed. He collapsed on the other side. She liked to sprawl out at night and had spared no expense in getting a huge bed to do so. With so much room to spare, it seemed cruel to relegate Lance to the couch so this was their usual arrangement.
With a good foot of space between them.
Tonight, if Pidge felt Lance’s arm slide over her waist and his nose nuzzle into her hair, she didn’t say anything.
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
kianamaiart
andulkaphoto
gummygunk
