If you did 32 or 34 for plance that would be AMAZING
I got you. Also I did both. (32) is a college AU, (34) is post-season 4. Enjoy!!
(32) I think you are beautiful and I would like to kiss you. I can think up some clever lines, if you’d prefer. But I wanted to say that, first. (None of those lines seemed to be about you or me.)
Flirting is one thing, courtship something entirely different.
It takes Lance too long to realize it, when he somehow nets himself his first girlfriend. Plaxum is pretty, and smart, and passionate, but within days of going out - fun days, undoubtedly, of holding hands and stealing kisses between classes - he starts seeing their mutual attraction as something shallow and not what he thought he wanted, not when the butterflies in his stomach stop flapping their wings every time he sees her, not when she frowns at one of his jokes and asks him to explain it, or when neither of them can muster much feigned interest in the other’s favorite subjects.
Their relationship fizzles out quickly, and Lance tells Hunk and Pidge, “Maybe I just liked the chase.”
“Or maybe,” Hunk says with a pointed look, “you were with the wrong person.” He glances at Pidge, as if expecting her to add something, but she just shrugs, her attention fixed on her computer screen.
“What are you doing anyway?” Lance asks her. He sits in the chair next to her and leans into her space to inspect the screen, raising an eyebrow when he recognizes the site. “Pidge, are you on reddit?”
Pidge doesn’t shrink away from him; in fact, she seems to shift closer. But she scowls deeply and complains, “Some asshole on the Internet is bitching about women in STEM fields.”
Lance laughs, reaching up to ruffle her hair fondly. “Yeah, you would,” he says.
Pidge bats his hand away, but the fact that she smiles feels like a victory.
When Hunk rolls his eyes, Lance shoots him a questioning look, but he only smirks.
Whatever; his friends are allowed to be weird sometimes.
—
It creeps over Lance like most important realizations do: slowly building, then all at once.
It starts familiar, the jealousy that he feels too often burning in his chest when he sees Pidge talking to a boy in one of her classes. He’s walking with her, or really just behind her, while they discuss a group project. She makes a joke about their professor, and the boy laughs.
Lance doesn’t get the joke - it’s programmer humor - but he wants to, only so he can laugh with Pidge.
He brushes off the feeling when her classmate bids them goodbye, and she waves. When Pidge turns back to Lance, she smiles and asks him what he wants to eat for lunch.
It’s such an innocent, ordinary question, but the warmth of fondness fills his chest, pushing away the jealousy until he’s giddy for a reason he can’t quite explain.
They eat at a place off-campus since they both finished classes early that day. Hunk doesn’t join them though since he has a class early in the afternoon, and Lance, absurdly, is happy he has Pidge all to himself.
She chatters about her classes, about her family, and complains that she can’t go home for her brother’s birthday because she has an exam right after. Her foot brushes Lance’s leg as she talks, and he twitches involuntarily. She apologizes and is careful it doesn’t happen again for the rest of the meal, and Lance, disappointed, stretches his legs towards her, trying to tempt fate.
“Hey, since you can’t go home this weekend,” Lance suggests idly, “we should do something. You, me, and Hunk.”
“Oh, yeah?” She leans towards him, munching a French fry. “What do you have in mind?”
“Movie? You’ve been wanting to see that new superhero movie, right?”
Pidge stares at him for a heartbeat, lips parted, but then she says, “How did you know that?”
Lance shrugs, face hot as he flicks the crust on his sandwich for something else to put his attention on. “You mentioned it a few weeks ago and complained you didn’t have time?”
She blinks, surprised. “Oh,” she says. “I don’t remember that.”
“So…do you want to?” He steals a French fry off of her plate - she never finishes them anyway - and as he dips it into her ketchup, he continues, “And before you say you don’t have time, just consider it a study break. Two hours for a movie, maybe another hour for ice cream afterwards.” He smirks, as if he’s already won. “You don’t have to burn yourself out before every exam, you know.”
Pidge pushes her plate towards him, an unspoken invitation to have at the rest of her food, and as he helps himself, she says, “Fine, but I’m buying your ticket.”
“What? No way, I’ll–”
She nudges his shin and grins at him. “You bought my lunch today; it’s my turn.”
Lance slumps, crossing his arms, and sullenly agrees, “Fine.”
—
Hunk starts coughing Friday night, and by Saturday morning he’s used up half a box of tissues and drained two bottles of red Gatorade.
Lance rests his hands on his hips as he stares at his roommate, lounging on the couch with a textbook in his lap. “I’m going to guess you won’t be going to the movie with us?”
Hunk coughs, thick with phlegm. “You guess right,” he says, voice hoarse. He blows his nose and drops the used tissue into the waste basket next to the sofa. “Have fun without me.”
“As if that’s possible,” Lance quips, rolling his eyes.
Hunk laughs, right before it deteriorates into a brief coughing fit. Lance fills a glass with water and brings it to him, and after he drinks half of it, he says, “It is. Just go, and remember me in your vows.”
Lance raises an eyebrow at him. “What vows?” he asks.
Hunk shrugs, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re gonna be late to the movie, and I know you hate missing the trailers.”
“Hmm, true. Take care, buddy.” He shrugs into his jacket on his way out the door.
Pidge already stands outside the small theater that serves the campus population, two tickets in hand. “Is Hunk doing okay?” she asks him as soon as she spots him. “He told me he’s sick.”
“He’ll be fine,” Lance says. “He’s never sick for long.”
A part of him wishes Hunk could’ve made it, but a slightly bigger - and rather guilty - part of him is almost glad that he and Pidge are alone.
Pidge doesn’t seem to mind either, as she grabs his arm and drags him into the theater, her fingers leaving heat on his skin even through the fabric of his jacket. She grins in anticipation, and her excitement about the movie infects him and he finds himself grinning back. She rattles off her theories about the movie while they stand in line to get concessions, and he manages to follow along despite his limited knowledge about its prequels.
Lance beats her to paying for the popcorn, sliding a ten-dollar bill across the counter when her wallet is only halfway out of her purse. She narrows her eyes at him, pouting slightly, and he smirks.
Once they find seats close to the back of the theater - which is fairly empty since the movie has been out for weeks already - Pidge complains, “You have to one-up me already?”
“Fine,” Lance says, locking the bucket of popcorn between his knees. “If you don’t want me to pay for you, you don’t get any popcorn.”
Pidge ignores this and reaches into the bucket, pulling out a tiny handful. She then proceeds to grab his jacket’s hood and drop the kernels into it.
“Hey!” He makes a grab for her hand, almost upending the bucket, but she rescues it and sets it on the floor near her feet, laughing. He stands up and shakes the popcorn from his hood, glaring at her while she just laughs until she’s breathless, her face red and–
Lance’s breath catches and that’s when he knows he’s fucked.
He sits heavily, eyes wide while the realization creeps in. Pidge rests her hand on his arm, asking him if he wants to hold onto the bucket during the movie, but he barely hears her through the blood rushing in his ears.
The trailers start and Lance, who loves watching trailers, can barely pay attention. He’s conscious of Pidge’s presence in a new way, hearing her munch on popcorn, her arm brushing against his since they share an armrest. When Pidge points out a movie - an action comedy - that she thinks he would find interesting, he only nods, offering her a strained smile. She narrows her eyes at him, worried or suspicious or anything in between, but doesn’t question him.
The movie begins with pounding action music, Pidge tensing with excitement, but Lance’s mind still buzzes with facts that he never considered before.
He likes Pidge. Likes Pidge. Likes Pidge.
Why should that surprise you? a voice that sounds suspiciously like Hunk asks. You’ve been friends for years.
She’s not my…type, Lance’s mental voice shoots back.
So what? ‘Types’ are for favorite ice cream flavors and favorite books, not romantic partners.
Lance shoots a glance at Pidge, who watches the movie with rapt attention…until she turns her head to regard him, an eyebrow raised questioningly, a teasing tilt to her lips.
Lips he really wants to kiss.
A blush rises to his cheeks and he whips his head around again, facing forwards, heart pounding so loudly it seems to fill the whole theater during a quiet moment.
Pidge sighs, her own attention returning to the screen, and Lance exhales a relieved breath.
The atmosphere feels tense, something Lance could be imagining, and he wants to say something. Something that will, maybe, take his mind off this new awareness of Pidge, and him, and Pidge and him.
For something to do, Lance reaches into the bucket - now on Pidge’s lap - and pulls out a handful of popcorn.
The movie manages to engage his attention for some time, and it feels more normal when he starts making his perfectly witty observations, elbowing Pidge’s arm and smirking when he hears her soft snorts and sees her rolling her eyes. But then she rests her head on his shoulder, and he’s back to holding his breath.
He wishes they hadn’t finished all the popcorn so quickly.
Lance taps Pidge’s elbow and softly asks, “Do you want more popcorn?”
Pidge shakes her head, her hair tickling his chin.
“Oh, well, I want more popcorn,” Lance says, grabbing the bucket from where it rests on the floor and standing up, displacing Pidge from his shoulder.
She grumbles and slouches in her seat, pulling her feet onto it and wrapping her arms around her legs. “You’ll miss some of the movie,” she points out.
Lance shrugs, unbothered; he hasn’t been paying much attention to the movie anyway. “I’m sure you’ll fill me in later,” he says.
Pidge shoots him a smile in silent promise, and Lance walks along the aisle of seats and down the stairs. He pauses just outside the theater, eyes adjusting to the brighter lights, leans against the wall beside the door, and reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone.
Out of desperation - and because this is just what he does - he looks up programming pickup lines. He scowls at the screen though when they all prove to be stupid, shallow, cringey, and stuffs his phone away. Something like that wouldn’t do him any good anyway, not with Pidge.
Lance gets the refill and returns to the theater, and Pidge is the first to take a handful from the bucket.
“I thought you said you didn’t want more,” he says, raising an eyebrow at her.
Pidge blushes, and it’s obvious even in the dimness of the theater. “I changed my mind,” she says.
Lance sits, and the rest of the movie passes without incident.
He’s still disappointed when Pidge doesn’t rest her head on his shoulder again.
Afterwards, when they’re just walking around the mall chatting, she summarizes the movie as if he wasn’t there watching it with her, and for the moment he’s happy just listening to her talk about something she enjoys, at least until she asks, “So what did you think about that plot twist?”
Lance’s heart drops into his chest. “Uh…” What plot twist? “It was…good?”
“Really?” Pidge says, frowning. “Because I saw it coming from the beginning.”
Lance forces a laugh and nudges her side. “That’s because you’re smarter than me, Pidge.”
Pidge looks skeptical but doesn’t call him out on his deflection.
He lets her buy him ice cream, but only because she glares at him with the heat of ten suns while she passes her debit card over to the cashier. They sit quietly on a bench while they eat, and though there’s only a few inches of space between them, it feels like a void after how close they sat in the theater.
Lance finishes his ice cream first, brushing his hands free of crumbs from the cone as Pidge polishes off hers. She bites into it, humming happily, and he pretends like the butterflies in his stomach don’t exist alongside an ache in his chest.
Hair escapes her ponytail in wisps of brown, her nose reddened from an old sunburn. A spot of chocolate sticks to her chin just under her mouth, and her sweater is wrinkled.
The second epiphany in a single day strikes Lance, and he knows why his heart now fixates on Pidge.
She’s his best friend, and he can listen to her talk about her interests for hours. She can drag him into a conversation even if he doesn’t know much about the topic. She laughs at his jokes, and he laughs at hers even if she has to explain it to him. When they argue, they’re always quick to mend fences. And they’ve known each other for years, so he knows he won’t grow bored of her company.
Their entire relationship realigns itself in his head, and Lance decides the chase is overrated anyway.
“Pidge,” he says, quiet, and when she turns her head to look at him, he continues, “I…want to kiss you.”
Her eyes widen, cheeks reddening with a blush, and at first he fears that his impulsive declaration will chase her away, until she says, “Okay.”
Lance’s brain grinds to a halt. “What?” He stares at her incredulously.
“I said, okay.” She rolls her eyes and scoots closer to him. “Or would you rather I kiss you?”
“N-no,” he says. “I can do it.”
“Then do–”
Lance presses his lips to the corner of her mouth, her breath stuttering out of her in surprise. When she doesn’t pull away, he reaches up to cup her face - skin soft under his fingertips - and turn it towards him.
Pidge sighs against his lips, the sound sending a thrill through his blood, but before he can deepen the kiss, she rests her hand against his chest and gently pushes him away.
“Why?” she asks, meeting his eyes.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he blurts out. It has her raising an eyebrow at him, a disappointed twist to her mouth, but since it’s not exactly what he means to say, he backtracks, “And I like you a lot. Do you–”
She shuts him up with another kiss, and he feels her smile. “Yes,” she says.
“You don’t even know what I was gonna ask,” Lance points out, indignant. “I could’ve asked you if you wanted food, or if you thought it was going to rain, or–”
“We just ate two buckets of popcorn and ice cream,” Pidge says, laughing, “and it’s a clear day.” She rests her hands on his shoulders and makes sure his gaze is locked on hers. “So unless the question was 'do you want to go out with me’, the answer is 'no’.”
Lance laughs, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. “Yeah, I can see why you would think that.”
Pidge’s own arms snake around his back, but then she picks something from his hood and pulls away from him. “You missed one,” she says, frowning at a kernel of popcorn between her fingers. She flicks it, and it strikes his forehead and bounces to the ground.
Lance hides his face and groans.
—
“You weren’t faking, right?” Lance asks Hunk yet again on Monday.
Hunk rolls his eyes and coughs. “I’m still a little sick, Lance.”
“I know, I know.” He raises his hands defensively. “Just making sure since you seemed to figure out that I like Pidge before I did.”
“It’s about time though,” Hunk comments.
Lance smiles, and it only widens when he catches sight of Pidge approaching them, face glum. “That bad, huh?” he asks.
Pidge grabs him by the collar and tugs him down so that she can look him in the eye. “Why the hell did I let you convince me that I had this?”
“Because you decided you’d rather spend time with me than study?” says Lance, raising an eyebrow at her…and even feeling a little guilty.
She lets go of him and rubs her face. “I’m going to get a B and it’s all your fault.”
“What can I say?” Lance says, taking her hand. “I’m irresistible.”
—
Almost a week later, Pidge wakes Lance up to push her computer onto his lap. “I got an A,” she says, crossing her arms.
“I told you you’d be fine,” he says. He turns his head to look at his alarm clock, frowning when he sees how late - or how early - it is. “What the hell, Pidge?” he demands, glaring at her. “It’s three in the morning!”
Pidge smirks and takes her computer back, closing it and setting it on the floor beside the bed. She lies down and wraps her arms and legs around him and says, “Lance, it’s Saturday. And now that you’re up…”
Lance rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says, “but just know it’s your fault that I’m missing out on my beauty sleep.”
“Please,” Pidge scoffs, “you don’t need it.”
Now it’s Lance’s turn to smirk, but before he can make another comment, Pidge kisses him.
He’s wide awake for a while after that.
(34) When you’re around I don’t know how to hide my feelings. I count in binary, in my head. zero one one zero one one and you count clouds. (while you count clouds)
The clouds on this unnamed planet are wispy and gossamer and colored like cotton candy, in pastel pinks and blues, contrasting against an eerie white sky. They ride the wind like birds, winding and unwinding into impossible shapes, and Pidge wonders if she’s stepped foot onto a fantasy world.
Sometimes, her life feels more like fantasy than science fiction, space travel and giant robots aside.
“Pretty,” Lance observes from beside her, eyes fixed on the sky. He points at a pink one that spirals into a point. “That one looks like a unicorn.”
In her head, Pidge counts, pretends that her heart isn’t warmed by the sight of Lance smiling, actually looks like he’s having fun for the first time since Naxzela, pretends that they’re not all worried about Keith or Lotor or any of the other things that keep piling on, weighing them down like the planet-sized bomb did.
She and Lance are out alone while the Castle undergoes repairs. She offered to help, but Coran waved her away with a twinkle in his eyes, and even Matt, busy with the rebels, didn’t have a minute to spare for her.
Pidge crosses her arms and kicks a pebble, which skitters away, scattering light across its crystalline surface. Lance wanders with her, but his eyes still focus upwards, and Pidge has to grab his arm when he stumbles over a piece of space debris.
“Thanks,” he says, smiling sheepishly at her.
Pidge blinks, shakes her head, and keeps counting.
When she reaches 011011, they return to the Castle at the predetermined departure time and walk to the bridge. Allura, in conference with Shiro and Coran, turns around to greet them with a smile. “How was your walk?” she wonders.
Lance grins at her. “It’s pretty outside,” he says. “The clouds make the weirdest shapes. I saw one that looks like a unicorn.”
“What’s a unicorn?” Coran asks, twirling his mustache.
“A horse with a horn.” Lance takes off his helmet, setting it on his station’s seat, and mimes having a horn protruding from his forehead with his arm.
Pidge hides a smile behind her hand while both Allura and Coran blink in confusion.
“And what’s a…horse?” Coran says.
“And is it anything like a Kaltenecker?” Allura asks.
(Pidge wonders if there’s a story behind the way both she and Coran blanch at that.)
Lance rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. “Kind of, actually,” he says. Then he brightens and suggests, “Hey, I can show you! It was still out there when we came in.”
“Oh, uh, all right,” says Allura, offering her own tentative smile. She grabs her helmet and follows Lance out of the bridge.
Pidge watches them go, then tears her gaze away from the door, looking around and around and around for something to do. She approaches Coran and asks, “Are the repairs done?”
“Hmm, yes,” Coran says with a sideways glance at her. “We’ll be leaving within the varga.”
Pidge nods in acknowledgement and slumps into her seat, suddenly exhausted. She messes with the display at her terminal, scanning for nearby hostile systems to avoid, wondering if allying themselves with Lotor will make them even more of a target for Zarkon than before…
“…and you think it looks like a what now?” Lance’s voice drifts into the bridge at his and Allura’s return.
“Like a pink willowy honfluz,” Allura says.
They walk through the door together, helmets under their arms as Allura mimes whatever a 'willowy honfluz’ is.
Lance still looks confused, but he shrugs, unconcerned. “But you have to agree that a cloud shaped like a unicorn is pretty cool, right?”
“Yes, I suppose,” Allura says, “though I’m still not quite sure what a unicorn is.”
“A horse,” Lance says, sounding exasperated.
Pidge muffles a snort with her arm, and she jumps when a hand rests on her shoulder.
“You okay, Pidge?” Lance asks her, leaning against the back of her seat and glancing at her over his shoulder.
“Great,” Pidge says. She tries to resume counting, but she’s lost track of the last number she stopped at. “Never better.”
“Really?” Lance raises a skeptical eyebrow, even kneels beside her so he can better look her in the eye. “You seem…distracted.”
“Do I?” she wonders, meeting his eyes. Good, she thinks.
“Yeah…” He narrows his eyes at her. “You know, it’s okay if you’re not doing so well, right? We had a tough time, and–”
“I’m fine,” she snaps, and when he flinches back, scowling, she adds shamefully, “I’m just worried about my dad.”
“You’ll find him, Pidge,” Lance reassures her, his hand returning to her shoulder. “You found your brother, so you can find your dad too.”
Pidge stares at him, mouth dry. His proximity is both dizzying and comfortable at the same time, and–
She starts her counting from zero again.
