Lance buys Allura something shiny.
She knew he had no idea what he was doing when he laid the cold charm over her clavicle and fastened the chain at her nape, but her insides still thrilled at the brush of his fingers, at the way his hot breath ghosted over the nape of her neck.
“Thank you, Lance,” she sighed as she let her hair fall back into place. “It’s lovely.”
And it was. If he’d been Altean, she would have kissed his wrist in gratitude, or maybe have started to think about the matepairing bracelet she could weave for him in return—goodness knew they’d grown closer over the years.
But Lance wasn’t Altean. He was human, oddly shaped ears and sharp canines and all. He wasn’t even around at the times that the ways Alteans flirted would have been common knowledge.
He had no idea what this trinket meant to her.
“No problem,” he said, helping her resettle her locks back into their voluminous glory while Allura’s heart pattered at the assist. “Sorry it took me so long. Coran said it might cheer you up.”
Allura’s gut lurched, her face heating. “D-did he?”
She’d forgotten that there was one more person who’d know about Altean dating etiquette.
“Something about traditions?” Lance’s voice made it clear that he had only the vaguest idea of what that meant. Tangling his fingers in Allura’s hair and tugging out the tangles, he added, “And about it being a good ‘thanks for training me in the way of the sword’ gift. So, you know. Thanks.”
This gift just had a few more connotations than that.
“You are… welcome,” she murmured, her tumultuous emotions settling into a painful blend of guilt and delight.
Before she could lose her nerve, she half-turned and caught his wrist.
Lance faltered, startled, and looked to her for explanation.
Pulse throbbing in her mouth, she gave him one: “This, also, is tradition.”
With that, she brought his wrist up to her mouth and kissed the faint blue lines that marked his veins.
His skin was warm, soft under her lips, ribbed with lingering creases at the heel of his hand and vibrating with his own erratic pulse.
Drawing back before she could give into the temptation to taste it, a smile crept up her face at the slack-jawed shock on his.
“So!” Lance squeaked, his voice cracking. “Traditions, huh? G-got any more of those?”
Letting go of his hand, she relished in the flush rapidly overtaking his exposed skin. “Ma-aybe. I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see.”
He might not know what it meant, but hey. What was the harm in dropping a few hints, right?
