All Of The Stars Chapter 2: I’d Rather Be Me
Word Count: 4217
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15378726 (HunterWizard, All Of The Stars)
“A diner?"
Lance and Pidge stand in front of the purple-lit sign reading 'Vrepit Sal's diner'.
"Hope you weren't expecting a club, McClain," Pidge raises an eyebrow, smiling a little as she pushes through the doors. The diner is nearly empty, save for a tall, hulking man standing behind the counter.
"Well, I was hoping to, you know, meet a couple ladies, get on the dance floor, knock back a few-"
"-Katie Holt!" booms the man, completely ignoring Lance's presence and high-fiving Pidge. "Good to see you back here! What's it, the fifth time this week?"
She grins, gesturing behind her back to a booth away from Sal. Lance slips away.
"Not that I'm counting, Sal," she starts, nodding her head towards the happy chef, "but I think it's the sixth."
Sal claps his hands together happily. Lance zones out of the best-friend conversation while the two trade barbs about 'oh, that Hunk!'
"Whaddaya want?" Pidge appears out of nowhere suddenly, slapping a menu in front of him.
"Uh-"
"Two minutes. I've already ordered."
Lance flips feverishly through his menu, which admittedly looked better the more he flipped. Burgers, fries, shakes, waffles, pretty standard diner fare.
"Uh-um, I guess I'll take the garlic knot set?" he stammers, under too much pressure. To his relief, Pidge seems to approve of his choice, nodding and taking back the menu.
"Excellent choice. I'm Italian, did you know?"
She blitzes off, kicking up another storm of conversation with Sal. And no, Lance did not know. She'd always skated for America.
It all seems so...surreal.
Somehow she's everything he expected and completely different at the same time. Definitely a lot more snarky than he expected.
Was it possible that she would have watched him while he was competitive? Adored him, even?
Nah. No way.
But he watched her. A lot. Something about her skating was...curious. Her skating was remarkably different to his. In too many ways to describe.
His eye catches sight of the little dab of smeared black rimming her eyes. It can't help but remind him of the first day he watched her skate.
¬3 YEARS AGO¬
"And that was an excellent start to the senior Ladies' event! Up next, we have a first-year senior, who's done impressively getting into the final at only 16. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, from the United States...Katie Holt!"
Lance stands on the side in the exclusive skaters' area, a glistening silver medal hanging around his neck. Damn Lotor. Whatever.
The first thought he has when Katie Holt skates on the ice is about her dress. Outlandish. Most of her bodice is a sweet, innocent, sparkly white, but wrapping around her left and down her skirt is a stark, shimmering black, swishing around her almost hypnotically.
What song is she skating to?
Suddenly, Lance's heart skips a beat, because for a moment-and just a moment-she looks up, right into his widened eyes.
She nearly falters-but continues skating on, arms open, acknowledging the crowd.
Barely even warming up, Katie Holt settles into place, bowing her head between crossed arms.
Damn.
The music starts, a barely discernible tinkle of bells.
She doesn't move.
Loudly, a famous descending scale of chords rings out, and she leaps into action.
Of course.
Phantom of the Opera.
Katie skates fast, powerfully, cutting across the ice with large crossovers.
"And she's setting up for her first jumping pass..."
Without hesitation, she picks straight up into a triple lutz, swinging back up with a triple loop right after.
Lance gaped. An almost non-existent combo for both men and ladies.
Double axel from difficult entry. Landed. Triple sal. Easy. Even in the air she looks bored.
The music softens, blurring into a lyrical section just as she moves into the step sequence.
Think of me,
Think of me fondly,
When we've said goodbye...
Fast steps, deep edges, plenty of upper body movement. Beautiful. Lance himself was strong in the steps too, but she...was she an ice dancer or something?
Remember me,
Once in a while
Please promise me you'll try...
Her eyes glisten a little. Hmm.
Katie speeds up again, exiting a flying spin and cutting across to the center, gliding backwards, and hitting a triple lutz right on the beat, the music abruptly banging back into the iconic theme.
From here on, she's a majestic blur, jump after jump landed with remarkable ease. Triple flip. Triple flip, half loop, triple sal. Double axel, triple toe. No problem. No underrotation, shaky landings. None.
Finally, as the music builds, she enters a layback spin, pulling into a haircutter, into a beautifully arched Biellman. And as she exits, she reaches her hand upwards, bringing it in to her heart and crumpling to the ice.
Remember me...
Nothing short of amazing.
Lance couldn't tear his eyes away.
She won that day.
~~~
"Lance? Lance?" Pidge waves a hand in front of his face, finally eliciting a startled response. "Good, thought I lost you again."
"No-no, you didn't. Oh wow!"
Pidge proudly beams, holding two plates of food that materialized much faster than Lance had anticipated. One filled with garlic knots, the other with a burger. And damn, did the food look good.
"Do you like peanut butter? I got us a milkshake to share, but I'm perfectly capable of downing a whole one on my own if you like-"
"-I like peanut butter-"
"-great!"
Pidge can only pray that Lance can't see how skittish and nervous she's been acting. Can you blame her?
"Mmm, this is good..." he mutters, hungrily tearing into his garlic knots. Pidge takes this as a cue to dig into her burger, the beefy juices making her sing mental hymns. Ah...good food feels doubly great on an empty stomach.
"Yeah, I got the food free because my pal Hunk helped Sal get a bunch of regulars," she responds, amidst chews.
"Aw man, Pidge, I was going to pay! Make a good first impression on my new colleague!" he jokingly whines, pouting dramatically. Pidge scoffs.
"Sure, you can just go over there and pay. No problem."
Pidge doesn't like how she goes a little red when he gives her a small, amused smile.
"What brings you to Castle Rink, Lance McClain?" she starts. Okay, admittedly she's pretty crap at small talk, but she should make an effort. It's Lance McClain, for god's sake, its not every day she gets the chance to befriend such a guy. (though admittedly, her impression of him was rapidly...changing.)
He takes in a deep breath, letting it all out in a surprisingly dramatic sigh.
"You know, once you've seen it all, the big cities and the fast life, I just really wanted to settle down-"
"-cut the bullshit, no offense-"
"-okay, Shiro and Allura are two of my biggest skating heros, so of course I was going to take the opportunity," he admits, looking defeated. "I mean, wouldn't you? Plus-"
Suddenly, he cuts himself off, eyes bulging and stuffing a garlic knot in his mouth.
"Plus?" Pidge raises an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Nufin'!"
Hmm.
"They were part of my motivation too," she adds on, still looking skeptical. "I was lucky they took me."
Pidge remembers it solidly. There was no one else that she had even considered when making the switch to singles. It had to be Shiro and Allura. No one else. And they had taken her on faster than she had even hoped for. Back then, it all felt like a dream, to be coached by two skating legends. Now that she's witnessed Shiro falling on a waltz jump and Allura tripping on a backspin, it's...less idolatry.
"Wonder if its too late for me," Lance jokes, looking up wistfully, voice going noticeably softer and quieter.
An awkward pause.
Pidge did hope he would return, but so many seasons of inactivity? She'd lowered her expectations. The men's field hasn't been interesting, with Lotor winning everything unopposed. Ugh.
"Ah, lets cut the serious anime backstory talk," he dismisses, much to her disappointment. "Give me the gossip! Tell me about Castle Rink! Who's the playboy, the emo, the uncle, the mom friend? You got any loooove going around?"
Pidge blinks.
"I'll-I'll let you form your own opinions when you meet them tomorrow," she answers, mentally berating herself for sounding so stiff.
"Fine," he answers, with a mockingly offended tone. "But you owe me the secret gossip after I meet them."
"Deal."
Lance looks up, eyes brightening.
"Is Allura single?"
"LANCE-"
~~~
It's cold outside. But Pidge's face is rapidly getting hotter, and hotter, with her brain neurons firing-
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"Is it that bad? Is it a sketchy area? Pidge?"
Pidge glances down at the piece of paper, rubbing her eyes and face, and looking again. Nope. Still the same address.
"What is it?"
She lets out a sigh, slapping the little paper back into Lance's hand and starts to walk.
"Well, Lance," she starts, turning back. "You're living in the same apartment block as me. In fact, you're my neighbour!"
Lance raises an eyebrow.
"Hoo...ray?"
Just her luck. Now she has to live, breathe and literally sleep freaking Lance.
She's not sure how she feels about this.
"C'mon, I usually walk home. Doesn't take long to walk, and I'm too cheap for taxis," Pidge gestures. "You'll learn the way back easily."
"Whatever you say, Pidge."
Lance follows her, just a little ways behind. But he notices her shiver, rubbing her arms, and realises she's wearing oddly little, her shoulders exposed to the biting cold.
"Hey, Pidge-" he calls, tapping her shoulder. She stops and turns around, and Lance is suddenly struck by how tiny she is. Like an elf.
"-yeah?" she breathes out, now unable to hide her cold. He yanks off his jacket, thrusting it to her.
"Here. You're cold."
For a moment, she looks like she's about to protest, but finally gives in and lets him slide the too-large jacket onto her, his fingers just barely brushing the cream skin not covered by her flimsy knit sweater.
Pidge covers her face, a little flushed (from the cold?), burrowing into the jacket.
"T-thanks."
She pauses, turning to Lance.
"You still want to hear that gossip?"
Lance smiles.
~~~
Lance's jacket is warm. Cozy. She likes how its too big, enveloping her small body. And most importantly, it smells really good. Some kind of musky sandalwood. Shit, did Lance see her face go all red?
"You're telling me that they haven't fixed this lift for how long?!"
"Three years, no less," Pidge responds, casually and nimbly bounding up the stairs. Lance groans.
"This is my off-ice conditioning," he complains. "I thought they were going to fix this."
"If there's one thing I know, Lance, it's to never trust landlords."
She's up to their floor much faster than him. With a tinge of regret, Pidge slides the cozy jacket off her shoulders, slinging it over her arm. Lance appears, panting dramatically.
"How did you skate a near-whole program with this kind of stamina?" Pidge laughs, giving him a hand and yanking him up. Jokingly, Lance keels over, coughing and hacking.
"Oh, stop it-"
"-I'm an old man, Pidge."
Again, she pulls him up, Lance's fingers lingering for a touch too long.
"Goodnight, Lance," she laughs, thrusting the jacket to the panting boy. "Here."
To her surprise, he waves her off, turning and heading to his door.
"You-you can keep it. Think of it as my replacement first impression gift."
Smiling doofishly, he salutes, unlocking his apartment door. Pidge stands still, eyes open wide and face definitely a little red.
"I-uh-"
"Good night, Pidge. See you tomorrow!"
And just like that, he's gone.
Pidge is left staring at his door, slowly putting the jacket back on.
What is this random smile?
~~~
The Castle Rink bustles with hordes of teenagers, kids and freezing parents.
"And now children, follow me! Push just like I showed you!" crows a redheaded, mustached man, stooping on the ice and gesturing wildly to a bunch of giggling kids.
"Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs!" Lance hears somewhere in the distance, a voice that's very vaguely familiar.
"That's the best you can do? You have to try harder, kids!" scolds a...mulleted guy, leaning on the wall with crossed arms and barking at a bunch of kids doing push ups. "Hockey players need some kind of arm stamina!"
Lance rolls his eyes at the hair, thinking how it could do with some relaxation treatments, or maybe a deep-conditioning? Either way, that boy needed his ass dragged to the salon-
"-I can't believe you beat me here!"
Lance looks in horror as a panting Pidge speeds towards him, her shrill exclamation breaking his train of thought.
"Relax, Pidge-"
Lance gently takes hold of her arms, stopping her in her tracks. Her hair is messy, loose strands flying everywhere, crystal beads of sweat dotting her brow and face painted with a ruby flush.
Pidge stops, bending over and looking up, near to hyperventilation.
"-ah-I told myself-oof-that I would-ah-show you around first," she breathes out. "But you know, it's-oof-okay, totally didn't-"
Suddenly, she cuts herself off, eyes widening and face somehow going even redder.
"What?"
"Nothing!"
"What is it, Pidge..."
"I said-"
"Lance! Welcome!"
It takes Lance every fiber of his being to not immediately scream and faint on the spot when he sees Takashi Shirogane wave, grinning at him. At him. He's got the amazing build, two-tone hair, and most notably the prosthetic arm. As perfect as he looked on a screen.
Instead of that, he settles for a cool nod of acknowledgement, smile, and offered hand.
"Ni-nice to meet you, Mr. Shirogane."
Pidge snickers from behind Shiro.
"Call me Shiro. I see you've met Pidge," he notes, turning around and playfully mussing up her hair even more. "Such a ball of energy, isn't she?"
"Y-yeah," he answers, still a little dazed.
"I was very glad to see your application, Lance. Not only did you have a pretty good resume, Pidge here-"
Pidge's eyes flash angrily-suddenly, she's leaped on Shiro's back and slammed her tiny hands on his mouth with surprising force. Shiro laughs, a muffled sound behind the iron-grip, and all Lance can do is stare with bewilderment at the very odd scene.
Is this what it's like to be friends with your co-workers?
And as if it wasn't enough, watching the demure-sized Pidge grappling on his truck-sized idol, attempting to literally shake Pidge off, Lance's rapidly weakening heart has to take a literal goddess waltzing in the room.
Freaking.
Allura.
The Allura.
She looks like she's glowing, with the great wide smile, bright white hair, and glittering blue eyes. Almost floating on air...
"TAKASHI SHIROGANE! KATIE HOLT!"
And all of a sudden, the goddess metamorphs into a blazing, raging, hellish ball of fire, her mere presence terrifying enough to turn Pidge and Shiro into a cowering pair of whimpering children.
"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT TUSSLING IN THE ENTRANCE-oh hello, Lance, good to see you here!"
Lance blinks. She's smiling again, speaking in a perfectly pleasant British accent.
Wow.
"Um-uh-yeah, Pidge told me the way, we happen to be living across each other-"
"-LANCE!"
"-oh, is that so?" Allura ignores the outburst, merely sending Pidge a sideways smirk. "Excellent. You've got to meet Hunk, and Keith, and Coran-come on over here!"
Wait.
The redheaded man, mullet, and a guy in an apron-wait-
This was the Hunk of Castle Rink?
Shit.
The three slowly sidle over, Coran literally leaping over in one bounce. The second Hunk sees him, Lance notices the little flash of recognition which soon dissipates; Hunk looks downwards, twiddling his thumbs.
"This is Coran," Allura introduces. "He's our resident expert speed skater, won quite a number of medals in his day. Our most jovial coach."
Coran gives Lance a quick one-over, much more dramatically than most with squinted eyes and multiple moustache twirls, finally offering his hand, apparently satisfied.
"Good to meet you, Lance. I'm Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, and I hope you like our humble rink. Belonged to Allura's father, you know, since-"
Allura's tinkling laugh cuts Coran off.
"Let's save him the exposition, shall we? Okay, this is Keith. He-"
Keith holds up a (very edgily) fingerless-gloved hand.
"Let's save him the exposition, shall we?" Pidge, Shiro and Coran snicker, much to Allura's obvious annoyance. Keith smirks, pleased. "Hi, I'm Keith, I play hockey, I teach hockey, I don't like small talk."
He doesn't offer his hand, simply tilting his head in acknowledgement. Lance raises his eyebrows.
"And this is Hunk!"
"He already knows who I am, Allura," Hunk waves off, suddenly seeming a bit unsure. "Right?"
Lance couldn't ever forget about Hunk. Who could forget about a happy, kind, friendly middle-school best friend?
"How could I forget you, buddy? I always regretted leaving the Garrison," Lance sighs, moving in for their secret handshake, still remembered after so long. But either Hunk doesn't remember it, or Hunk rejects him completely, because Lance finds his hand floating unrequited in the air. So he slowly brings it back down to his side, feeling the burn in his face.
"No, no you didn't."
Hunk doesn't look up at him.
Allura, as if sensing the tension, cuts in with all her British-cheeriness.
"All of you better return to your classes before we get World War Three up in here, Shiro and I will take Lance and get him oriented with our schedule. Pidge, go warm up, class soon!" she trills. Shiro and Allura both grab Lance, pulling him off to the office.
Pidge frowns.
Lance never mentioned knowing Hunk.
¬¬¬
"Long day, huh?"
Pidge laughs as Lance flops back on the couch, long legs and arms dangling everywhere.
"Allura never mentioned my work hours when she hired me," he groans. "I don't think I've ever taught twelve classes in a day before!"
"You probably should have asked," Pidge snarks, yanking at an arm and pulling him back on the ice with her, suddenly smiling. "or were you too tongue-tied?"
"I was-I was not!" Lance flushes bright red. "I was more tongue tied with Shiro, if I'm being honest!"
Pidge chuckles softly, skating a round of the rink effortlessly, clearly enjoying the freedom of an empty rink. Lance couldn't help but notice how pretty her auburn hair looked as it splayed out, trailed behind her. She does a spin, nice and centered, before lazily doing some footwork, a slow but elegant twizzle.
She looks...happy.
So he joins her, enjoys the free ice. Lets the tension of the day go away. Just him, Pidge, and the ice. Soon, what started as a free and easy skating session escalates, Lance absentmindedly transitioning into the step sequence from-
"-is that a short program?" Pidge softly wonders aloud, but it's enough to stop Lance, which Pidge immediately protests.
"Yes it is-was-was," Lance corrects, smacking his head. He'd liked that program. A lot.
He'd always been thinking too far into the future, huh? Came back and bit him on the ass.
"Why didn't-why didn't you use it?" she asks, almost shyly. With a single push, she glides right beside him.
"My injury. I don't know if you know-"
"-trust me, I know-"
"-oh?" So she does know his competitive career. "I just-just couldn't find it in me to go back."
Pidge is a confusing mix of emotions, flitting from sad, disappointed, to confused, annoyed.
"Who choreographed it? It's really good. Suits you."
"I did," Lance answers, a little surprised-and pleased-at the praise. "I was getting into that."
"You should choreograph for the kids," Pidge suggests, starting to skate around again. Lance follows her, the two falling into an easy and surprisingly comfortable pace and rhythm. "It's a waste."
Lance tosses his phone over to Pidge, heart nearly dropping out of his chest when she fumbles the catch.
"Just kidding."
"You're evil. Pick a song. Whatever you like."
Pidge frowns questioningly, but skates off, connecting the phone to the system. It's perfect timing, really, because the song only starts once she's rejoined him.
It's just another night And I'm staring at the moon I saw a shooting star And thought of you
"Didn't peg you for a cheesy love song girl," he laughs, making Pidge stick out her tongue at him. He holds a hand out, which she reluctantly takes.
"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me, especially my elusive music taste. So why did you ask me to pick a song, again-ah!"
Suddenly, Lance spins her around with alarming speed, breaking into a series of crossovers, her grip tightening with every movement.
I can see the stars From America I wonder, do you see them, too?
"Try and improvise!" he laughs. As the chorus begins, Lance lets go of her, moving into a series of steps, leaping up into a simple delayed axel, perfectly timed to the music. It's alarming to Pidge. How does someone be so free and easy? Just make everything up on the spot?
I can hear your heart On the radio beat They're playing 'Chasing Cars' And I thought of us
PIdge can only watch in awe. Lance just...dances. A dancer on ice. While she was an ice dancer, everything was planned, every movement, every little step had to be perfect. She won with Matt because of how precise they were, and how she worked so well with him. But figure skating...figure skating is so different, that she cannot be rigid and win.
So I took your hand Back through lamp lit streets I knew Everything led back to you
Lance reaches out for her again, their fingers nearly missing, fumbling to meet. It's awkward and clumsy, their attempts to skate together. But Lance seems determined, and Pidge actually finds herself enjoying their dance, of sorts.
You're the song my heart is Beating to
The romantic implications of the song are not lost by Pidge, who can't help but wonder...but her thoughts are interrupted when Lance starts twizzling, almost like a challenge; so she joins him, twizzling just as fast, but completely out of sync, making Lance laugh.
Nearly feeling free, letting her mind and body separate...
"Sorry I'm not your brother!"
Something snaps.
Pidge goes and turns the music off.
"Wasn't that fun? C'mon, admit it!" he gives her a shit-eating grin, knocking her on the shoulder.
"Yeah...yeah..."
Pidge forces herself to smile. It was fun. Just...until it wasn't.
"Hey, you haven't got a program yet," he points out, a little breathless. "Shiro was mentioning choreographing you new ones this season?"
Pidge coughs, looking as if she'd rather not answer that question.
"Um-well, I wasn't sure if I was going to compete this season. Coaching-"
"-You're kidding, right?!" Lance interrupts, unable to control the outburst. "You're Katie Holt, you're-"
"-I'm what?" she questions, leaning in, tilting her head.
"-anyway, my point is you're still in competitive shape. You could still compete. Here's an idea, I'll choreograph your program for you! You said it was a waste if I don't choreograph, so this is a win-win situation, isn't it?"
Pidge freezes.
"But..."
"But what?"
It seemed a perfectly sensible idea.
"Well, you see..." Pidge huffs out, stuffing her hands in her jacket pocket, gaze trailing to her skates. "You and I, we're very different skaters, you see...I mean, you're interesting! I skate to friggin' Beethoven! Not even Shostakovich at least! And not to mention-"
"O-Oh-Okay, calm down here," Lance gently takes hold of her hands, flying around in a multitude of directions. "First of all, your skating is not boring. Second of all, it's never too late to try something new! Come on, Pidge, what do you say?"
Pidge pauses, looking down at her small hands in Lance's.
And slowly, she utters a single word.
"No."
She tugs her hands back.
"I'm sorry, Lance. I don't even know if I'll be competing, you know? So I'd rather not waste your time. I meant what I said, you should go choreograph, we've got some talented kids here that I know you'll love."
Lance can only think about how there might be a ton of talented kids rising up in the ranks, but none of them like Pidge. So what if she skated to classical music? He's seen what she can do. She could change it up. She could become a star again, goddamnit, instead of being the fifth place finisher at a random Grand Prix event. He has so much to say, but all he can muster up is:
"Yeah."
~~~
The walk back home is nothing like it was the first day. Awkward, silent. Boring. Towards the end, Pidge seems to warm up a bit.
"Hey, I'm sorry," Pidge apologizes, as they begin their long, long walk up.
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I kind of do."
When Lance doesn't respond, rather can't respond, Pidge takes it as a cue to stick in her earphones.
What she doesn't remember is their great height difference. What she doesn't remember is how easily he can see her phone. What she doesn't remember-or maybe, doesn't know yet- is how Lance is the snoopiest person in Castle Rink.
She's listening to Panic At The Disco, of all things. This is Gospel. A favourite of Lance-both of them, it seems.
Lance laughs.
He's going to make her one hell of a program.
Pidge doesn't even hear him.
I hope you enjoyed! Check my blog soon for the next chapter :)