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An excerpt:
“He hasn’t dated anyone since...” Allura’s name went unspoken. “...you know.”
“I know,” she replied to Hunk. “But aren’t you normally his wingman?”
“Yeah, of course! I’m the best wingman there is.” Hunk looked incredibly pleased with himself. He winked at her. Pidge frowned, perplexed by how strange Hunk had been behaving lately. In recent weeks he had been bombarding her with the most personal and embarrassing questions when she least expected it. “But you know I have an important diplomatic mission to Cyan III, so I can’t be there to help him get back into the dating scene. Pidge, please, do this for me. I don’t want Lance to get his heart broken again—“
She exhaled. “Fine. I’ll steer him away from the crazies and the stalkers. What time do I have to be there?”
“Seven o’clock sharp. And wear something nice. You know, maybe get your hair done, put on a little makeup—not that you need it—it’s just, Lance—- uh, I ,mean, that club is really upscale, okay.”
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15378726 (HunterWizard, All Of The Stars)
"Rise and shine, Pidgey!"
No answer. Lance knocks again, louder.
"Rise and shine, Pidge!"
Still no answer.
Dang. Does she always wake up this late? How the hell does she get to work on time? Even Lance, who adores his beauty sleep, wants to be punctual. Totally not afraid of Allura. Totally.
Pidge still isn't responding at all. Fine. Last chance. Lance relentlessly bangs the door with all the strength he's got, ignoring how the hinges squeak and door bends slightly under his force. He's forced to continually bang the rapidly-weakening door, nails biting palms and fist shaking, praying there's no pissy neighbours in the building. And finally, finally, the elusive hermit makes some sound; Lance hears a little shuffle, a muffled groan, the rubbing of slippers on bare floor.
The door clicks, and opens a crack.
"Lance? What are you-" Pidge yawns mid-sentence, blearily looking up, "-what are you doing here?"
The door opens a little more. Everything about her screams 'night owl that hates morning'; untidy hair, hastily-worn glasses, dark circles hanging under half-opened eyes, dry face. Something about her little yawn, sleepy smile, and the childlike way that she rubs her face just strikes Lance as so, so cute.
But the thing that stood out most to Lance could only be the jacket Pidge is wearing. Large, swallowing her small frame, a vague smell of sandalwood. His jacket. Something tells him that she woke up exactly like this, too, wearing his jacket. Is he flushing?
"Lance?"
"Oh, sorry." Sobering up, he thrusts a paper bag and drink in her direction. "For you. Just thought a morning perk might be good."
Pidge takes the paper bag, opening it and peeking inside. The smile that grows on her face makes Lance glow.
"You remembered I like peanut butter," she says softly. "Thanks, Lance."
"No problem. Coffee?"
"Definitely."
~~~
"So no assignments yet?"
Lance's menu of conversation topics hasn't exactly grown. He still doesn't know what she likes, the short list looking something like this; punk rock, peanut butter and figure skating. Not very expansive.
Pidge shakes her head, sipping the black coffee.
"I know I'm getting two, but that's about it."
"Which are you hoping for?" Lance asks, picking up the pace a bit. Pidge sig, needing to take double the number of steps to keep walking beside him. Heh.
"Skate America, of course. Cheaper, home country...and NHK. I love Japan," she says, the hint of a wistful, nostalgic smile appearing on her face. Lance adds the fact to his mental list: 'loves Japan'. He also starts a new mental list; 'Things Pidge and I have in Common', and adds Japan to the list.
"Can I guess...anime?" he jokes. Pidge scoffs dismissively, as if saying 'hell no', but the little smile that she can't hold back makes Lance think otherwise.
"Sure, whatever you say," she answers, "but more for the video games."
Wait.
What?
"You like video games?" Lance manages, a bit too stunned to be coherent, coming out breathy. His expression, the epitome of enthusiastic disbelief, makes Pidge raise an eyebrow and adjust her glasses.
Who would have guessed? After all, she had seemed to be the poster child for 'straight-laced', only skating to classical music and warhorses, giving perfectly articulated answers in interviews and being perfectly polite to fans. And now, apparently, poster child might possibly like violently taking down enemies and cutting off heads.
Brilliant.
"Well, yeah. I mean, I've been playing Killbot Phantasm and pretty much every game like it since I was what, six? I kind of blame-I kind of blame my brother. He was the first geek in the family. He got me into video games, in fact."
Why does she suddenly look so wistful? She bites her lip, furrowing her brow and looking down, kicking at the pavement a bit. Lance wants to scream, because Katie Holt could probably beat his ass at any of the fifty games in his current collection.
"What?" she suddenly says, narrowing her eyes. "You like gaming too, or you think girls can't play or something?"
"N-nonononono, not at all, I love video games, and I just got the Mercury Game Flux-"
Pidge yelps, nearly knocking her own glasses off.
"-No way! How the hell did you afford that on a coach's salary?!"
Lance smirks proudly at the wide-eyed, stunned Pidge.
"I only ate bread and margarine for a month. No joke. Would have died for garlic knots, but it was totally worth it." Lance puffs up his chest, laughing at a gaping Pidge. Anything for the newest consoles.
"Ohhkaayyy..."
~~~
Castle Rink's main, enclosed office-small, but functional-is starkly quiet in comparison to the buzz of the public outside.
Each coach has a small desk, immediately identifiable; Shiro's desk possesses military-like organisation, the stacks of papers perfectly lined up, a small picture of Shiro and a man in glasses right on top. Allura's is equal in organisation but twice as aesthetically pleasing, toned in pinks and purples and marbled whites.
Lance notices how Keith's desk is completely empty, imagining Shiro yelling at Keith for not doing his paperwork. He could totally see Mullet doing that. Hunk's is decent, not the tidiest, with occasional burger wrappers strewn around.
But Pidge's.
Oh, god.
Pidge's.
Her papers cover the entire desk, an incoherent mess, multiple open pens and empty coffee cups strewn around carelessly. Crumpled papers surround her chair, which happened to have a broken leg, two little fluffy plushies acting as rudimentary paperweights.
"I know, right?" Allura laughs, noticing Lance staring at Pidge's desk. "I've tried to get her to clean it up for two years now. Doesn't work at all."
"Hey!" Pidge protests, crossing her arms and pouting. "I know where everything is. Test me."
"Your class attendance records from last year."
Pidge takes one second to stick her hand into the mess and pulls out a set of stapled papers.
"Here!"
Holy shit. Last year's class records.
"Anyway," Allura says, looking impressed, "Let's get down to business. Along with the private classes, you'll teach a joint intermediate group class. Just work improving the kids in all areas. You should have all bases covered between you two. Simple enough?"
Kids! Lance's favourite to teach, because they normally liked him and respected him-okay, more of saw him as a friend that they listened to. But it was undeniable that his unorthodox methods usually worked, his students progressing faster than most. He'd always liked kids.
"Yep! No problem." Lance reaches for Allura's papers, flipping through the student profiles. Hmm...no double jumps, probably needs some help with spins...should be fine.
He only now notices how Pidge looks, less than happy, lips pursed and eyes squinted.
"Allura? Can I talk to you for a moment?"
Allura shrugs behind Pidge's back, her silvery hair bouncing after her.
The two ladies at the side speak very quickly and very quietly, their eyes flitting between each other and Lance, the only words he could catch being 'Lance', 'ship', 'seriously?!'.
But finally, after Allura finishes hissing, Pidge relents, heading back over to Lance and holding out her hand.
Handshake?
Lance slaps it. Like a bro.
"What the hell, dude?" she yelps. "I just wanted the papers!"
Lance feels his cheeks burn.
~~~
It's almost adorable, watching a bunch of tiny, overeager, sugar-high kids surround the cartoonishly tall and lanky Lance; some wave their hands, begging for attention, others yelling for 'teacher to start class!'. It's almost a relief, having Lance; she's never been good with kids, more with teenagers. Pidge leans on the sideboards, sipping water and watching from the side.
"Nice to meet you all! I'm Coach Lance, the gal drinking water over there is Coach Katie. I'll learn your names as we go along? Okay, kids, we'll begin with some basic stroking, and work on our back crossovers!" Lance says, bending down to their level. "And if you're good, and you work hard, Coach Lance here might just teach you something cool." He claps his hands together loudly, standing back up. "You ready?"
"YEAH!!!!!!!"
"Let's go!"
Pidge skates forward to join Lance as the children start speeding in large loops around the rink, scaring off the other public skaters who slip and slide on their blue rental boots.
"You're good with kids," Pidge remarks, gently correcting the posture of one of the little girls.
"Thanks. I grew up with a lot of them-one second-" Lance quickly calls the children, splitting them into two groups and setting them off into practicing crossovers, finally rejoining Pidge after yanking one happy boy off his shirt. "Yeah, I've got a really big family. Two sisters, two kid nieces and nephews, a brother. You get the gist."
Pidge blanches. How does one survive in such a large family? She can't honestly say she can understand, considering her suburban four-member family. "Sounds nice, with-with so much...company."
She leaves the conversation hanging, skating to one of the groups and demonstrating the back crossovers. Children-scratch that, most skaters-never bend knees enough. Arms must be in the right position, lead hand slightly lowered, back hand raised. Eyes always to the back. Pidge's philosophy has always been that little details need to be attended to, should be drilled in from young.
Maybe that's why Allura assigned her the class. Her military mentality does complement Lance's concept of being 'Tio Lance' to the kids. Maybe it wasn't all about the shipping or whatever...Allura usually tried to set her up with the guest coaches to no avail, usually jokingly. Hopefully different this time.
"Yeah, it's pretty great, but you don't get much space or privacy," he yells out from the other side of the rink. Pidge thinks about how much of her free time was spent holed up in her room, alone, binging animes and doing work.
"Sounds great!"
"Coach? Why do you keep yelling to Coach Lance?" asks one of the little girls, looking up curiously. Pidge, slightly taken by surprise, jolts, but bends slightly.
"We were just talking. About...stuff."
"Stuff."
"Do you like Coach Lance? Like in a like-like way?" She tilts her head to the side. The girl couldn't have been older than eight, nine, with little plaits, the biggest brown eyes, and a little knit cap, the very picture of innocence. And she's asking about romantic attraction.
Pidge sighs.
"What's your name?"
"Lorelai Kaltenecker!" she answers with surprisingly strong diction. "But you can call me Rory."
Cute name. "Look, Rory, it's not very nice to ask about people's personal li-"
"-what's going on over here?" Lance asks, slinging an arm on Pidge's shoulder, around her neck and leaning on her. Shit. Pidge is startled to realise that he's somehow gathered all the kids in the center.
"Nothing really." Lance doesn't need to know.
"See! He does like you!" Rory pipes up, pointing at the arm. Lance winks exaggeratedly, making Rory giggle.
"Only between you and me..." He winks again, nodding. "Go on, go join your friends." Lance gestures, Rory still giggling as she quickly skates off to join the gaggle of children in the center. Pidge turns to Lance incredulously.
"Lance!"
"Can you blame me, Pidgey Poo?" He mockingly bats his eyelashes, making a kissy pout right in her face. Pidge rolls her eyes, making the same face back, ignoring how the children laugh at their stupid antics. Maybe they would like her better if she played along.
"Flirt."
~~~
Pidge holds her edge, sailing backwards at a fast, controlled speed. Shiro watches on the sidelines, observant eyes never leaving her as she cuts across the rink.
One.
She takes a breath in, relaxing her upper body.
Two.
She sends her left leg back, left arm following, right knee bending deep into an outside edge.
Three.
Pidge slams the toepick into the ice, tiny shards shattering, shimmering around her as she sails upwards into the air, pulling effortlessly into a tight air position. One, two, three rounds; Pidge lands solidly, exiting with just as much speed as she had entered with, running edge strong and secure, free leg swinging back into a high-held position.
Triple lutz. Done. Hopefully she's done by now, she's honestly lost count of how many times Shiro made her jump, skate a circle, jump, skate a circle, jump...her head now spins even faster than when she's jumping in the air.
Slowly, Pidge drags herself over to the side, needing to restrain herself from gulping down her entire water bottle. Sip. Sip. SIP-
"Not bad, Pidge." Shiro nods approvingly, arms folded and leaning on the side casually. "Remember to keep your upper body position in check while entering."
"Can I take a break?" she asks.
"Mmm...."
Desperate times call for desperate measures; the very-tired girl puts on the puppy eyes, pouted mouth, clasped fists shaking.
Shiro swallows. Mouth thins into a fine line, shaking his head in mock disapproval.
"...fine."
"Thanks!"
Pidge catches sight of Lance coaching a small new kid, just getting on for the first time, clearly nervous. And it's adorable how patient and joking Lance is, distracting from the fear and bringing a smile on the kid's face.
It's...cute.
"Hey, Shiro, wouldn't it be so weird if someone else choreographed my programs this year?" Pidge laughs, eyes still glued to Lance. She swipes sweat from her brow. "Ha, imagine if it were someone like Lance."
Shiro's face is unreadably calm, eyes traversing upwards in thought. Pidge really can't tell what he's thinking, but that's normal anyway, isn't it?
"That was random. What, are you bored of me already?" Shiro squints, poking Pidge's forehead. Pidge laughs, poking him back.
"You know it!"
Shiro sighs, pushing Pidge back to the centre of the ice and retreats to the edge, twirling his finger three times. Triples again, of course.
Over at the side, Pidge can just barely hear the chuckle of a familiar guy-
"-stop drooling over Lance and focus!"
"Okay, okay!"
Pidge almost swears she can see Shiro smirking.
~~~
"WHAT THE FU-"
"HAHAHAHA!"
Pidge and Hunk roll on the ground laughing non-stop at Keith, screaming and slamming his head into the DDR machine. The cheery, hyper music seems to taunt Keith as he complains that the game was "TOTALLY RIGGED BECAUSE NO ONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO LOSE BY TWO POINTS-"
Pidge and Hunk, still in peals of laughter, run off to the basketball game and leave Keith to vent his anger at the punching bag. The arcade is thankfully empty at the odd hour after dinner, leaving them with practically free rein of the place that Pidge could call her third home.
"You know, he might score so many tickets that I can get that big green lion plushie," Pidge hums, gleefully flicking through the tickets she'd gotten by absolutely destroying Keith at DDR.
"We've never gotten enough. We stockpiled and never got enough," Hunk points out. It definitely is a gorgeous plushie; Pidge had been seriously lusting after it since it had been put up, admiring the fluffy spring-green fur, a hint of sparkle shining where the light hit it.
Pidge slips in two tokens, rubbing her hands and taking a ready stance. Hunk twists the bandana on his head, punching his fists together.
"5,4,3,2...1!!!!!"
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Hands fly furiously, grabbing ball after ball and sending it right through the hoop, never resting. Hunk and Pidge fall into a simple rhythm, ball after ball after ball sailing in without collision.
After racking up a beautiful number of points, the number still steadily going up, Pidge's brain starts to wonder.
"Hey, Hunk?"
"Yeah?"
"What happened with you and Lance?" Pidge questions, quickly knocking her glasses back in place before grabbing another ball. "You looked like you recognized him yesterday..."
"He's famous. You showed him to me how many times before? Of course I recognized him."
He scrunches up his face, grabbing a ball and carelessly tossing it at the hoop. Bounces off.
"It was a long time ago. I don't even know if it's worth bringing up, you know? He probably doesn't even remember," he sighs, whole body slouching in the process.
How many anecdotes did Lance throw at her about his 'best-friend' Hunk? Always defended him from bullies, dried off his tears when girls rejected him, suddenly became super good at cooking, and so on, and so on.
He definitely remembers.
"Oh, I think he does," she says, anticipating disbelief.
Pidge tosses in a final ball, the game coming to an end straight after.
"Really?" Hunk's eyes widen, eyebrows raising slowly. Skeptical. Surprised. Worried. Annoyed. Almost pleased. All words Pidge can used to describe Hunk's mish-mash of facial expressions. "He used to forget everything. I'm telling you, man, he'd forget the quadratic formula two seconds after memorizing it."
"What happened?"
Hunk looks away. Pidge bends down, squinting at the string of tickets flying out of the basketball game machine. A lot, but not nearly enough. Oh well.
"He's a figure skater. He had to train to get this good, right? " Hunk shakes his head. "I used to research skating camps, because I liked hockey and he liked figure. That's how we became friends from kindy through middle school. So I happen to stumble upon some famous skating program, and me being me just shows it to Lance. And what happens?"
Hunk's frown deepens.
"He just left. Without a trace, no goodbye or explanation. I was his best friend...unless he didn't really care."
"Oh..."
"Look, Pidge, I don't want any pity, it's something I've accepted a long time ago. I mean, I also wondered if it was my fault, I also wondered maybe if I didn't show it to him...but we just went our separate ways, and that's all."
Hunk breaks out into his characteristic sunny smile again, ditching the melancholic tone, waving a sassy hand in Pidge's face. She giggles, slapping it away and shrugging nonchalantly. Sure, she'll forget about it now. Hunk obviously doesn't want to talk about it any more.
"One more round?"
He smiles.
"You're on."
Even with the steady rhythm and sound of the ball whooshing through the flimsy net, Hunk by her side and scoring faster than ever, Pidge can't focus, only wondering-
What the hell is Lance's side of the story?
¬¬¬
It's at least slightly scary, seeing both Shiro and Allura grin at him conspiratorially from behind Allura's desk, glancing between each other, bright eyes glinting with glee. Lance closes the door of the office hesitantly, toeing into the room as if the floor were littered with mines. It's very strange being at work after-hours, the office ominously dark without the outside lighting. Now that he thought about it, Shiro and Allura both looked like they were right out of the Godfather or something.
"Sit, sit!" Allura ushers, dragging his chair from his desk and plopping it opposite of her own. He plops down, gaze bouncing between the two head coaches.
"So...we've had this amazing idea recently. Involving you!" Shiro grins. "Pidge brought it up in class, and I thought-"
"-cut to the chase, Shiro!" Allura pipes up, smacking his shoulder, making a metallic clang. Right. Metal arm, Lance tends to forget.
"-okay, okay..." Shiro nudges her, both turning to grin at Lance.
"We want you to choreograph Pidge's programs for the next season!"
Wait.
What?
"Wait, what?" Lance raises an eyebrow. "Pidge doesn't want me to. I offered already, actually."
"Wow, proactive," Allura compliments. "But we don't really care that she said no."
Wait.
What?
"But-"
"-Look, Lance, I'm pretty sure all three of us know Pidge is relatively...safe with her programs," Allura cuts in, quite effectively shutting up an argumentative Lance. "She's had classical programs ever since she started singles and I don't think that's going to change."
"Phantom Of The Opera?" Lance tries, weakly. Shiro shrugs.
"I don't know why she decided on that, but come on, even that's a warhorse. She just happened to do it very...dramatically," Shiro says, "but Lance, I think even you, only knowing her for two days, can see she's not going to change. And frankly, the judges aren't liking it."
Definitely. Lack of variety, even with traditionalism, doesn't exactly lead to the best PCS. Pidge's hadn't been rising despite a few years in senior ranks now, even with stellar consistency. If she could just skate like she did that day...so much potential.
And Shiro's right that Pidge certaintly seemed very stubborn and fixed since the beginning. Everything military precision, like the crafted notes of a classical song. Nothing free, nothing loose, like a string pulled taut.
Time to cut that string.
"As her coaches, we want you to choreograph for her. We think that you can get her to come around," Allura says. Lance crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair.
"And what exactly makes you think that?"
She winks.
"Let's just say I have a feeling."
~~~
Pidge is literally drained once she reaches her apartment, stumbling through the cracked glass doors, legs and arms aching from pro skating and very pro basketball.
Green lion still seems so far away.
"Fancy meeting you here, milady!"
Startled, Pidge squeaks, spinning around to see Lance bowed in the style of a medieval knight. She laughs, the sight just too ridiculous but seeming ridiculously Lance at the same time.
"Oh, good Sir, have you come to escort me to my palace?" Pidge trills, curtsying. He straightens up, clearly surprised at the cooperation.
"Indeed, milady, that is my charge. Unfortunately, I lack my noble steed, so we must make this perilous journey uphill on foot."
Indeed, the walk up to their apartment after a long day was definitely perilous. Together, the two drained skaters drag their aching legs up the stairs, one by one.
"Dear heavens, whatever shall I do!" Pidge slaps a dramatic hand on her forehead, leaning on the railing. "I may simply faint at this unladylike exertion!"
Suddenly, Pidge's foot catches on the cracked cement, nearly flying backwards-
"Holy shit," she breathes out, heart beating painfully fast. An injury would have been a total bitch right now, right before the start of the season. Actually, an injury would be a bitch at any time in her life.
"No longer 'milady', huh?" Lance smiles.
"I guess not. Literally 'tripped up', didn't I?" she laughs, letting go of Lance's hand and straightening up. "Thanks."
"No problem."
In that silence, for a moment, just a tiny split-second, Pidge thinks about asking him everything she's wanted to for the whole day. It seemed strange that Lance would ever be so cruel to Hunk, even if it was as simple as never having closure. But something tells her it's not the time, it's not the place to try. Maybe it's how Lance grins right at her, doing that thing where he rubs the back of his neck, that stops her.
Hesitantly, almost regretfully, she reaches for the door of her apartment.
"Goodnight, Lance."
He waves, saluting.
"Goodnight, Pidge."
As he turns around, she catches the briefest of glimpses at his phone, left on the music player app.
Hmm.
Why is he listening to 'This Is Gospel?'
I hope you enjoyed! Check my blog for the next chapter soon :)
No. 6 “Wingmen” (not to be confused with my full length story “Wingman” which I hope you will read!)
Keith is too bashful to ask Allura to go on a date with him, but the fate of the universe depends on the two of them getting together. Bob decides to intervene, allowing Keith’s adorable little guardian angel, Pidge, to help Keith with his problem. Alas, there must be an equal opportunity for the forces of darkness, so Keith is also plagued by a tiny demon of lust who mistakenly thinks he’s an expert in the art of seduction...
Keith can’t have any peace with his two little supernatural companions constantly bickering and interfering with his love life. Will he figure out a way to be rid of both of them?
No. 7 A Thief in the Night
“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”
—J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit
No. 8 Ghost in the Machine
“There is music at the limits of my hearing. There are demons at the edge of my vision. There are ghosts in the machine.”
— Edgar Allen Poe
“You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.”
— C. S. Lewis
No. 9 A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
“No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
The dream that you wish will come true.”—Walt Disney’s Cinderella
“And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”
― Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars
No. 10 Remember the Titan
“As for me, I did the stupidest thing in my life, which is saying a lot. I attacked the Titan Lord Atlas.”
― Rick Riordan, The Titan's Curse
All of these were inspired by quotes, as you can guess. 📖 📚
All of these stories will feature fantasy AUs of Plance or Pikelavar. I am new to the world of AO3. Please share this with other Plance fans. Thanks!
