#pidge cackles

[justaz]

shiro definitely laughs like chris evans. just falling out of his seat, full chest guffaws that eventually turn into silent wheezes

[morgana-ren]

You guys want to see one of the comments of all time about Baldur's Gate?

Guess where it's from.

It's on Gribbo's page. You know. Gribbo. That little nymph Gribbo. GRIBBO.

[bosspigeon]

🎵 Pyre, 🎵 Jude ?

And I came on a ship on fire To the seas you call your home Climbed down from the highest spire I disappear with the ocean foam

My mother said You don't know sacrifice Do you? My father said Just turn off all the lights And look

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

“You did what.”

Keith coughs. “We, uh, we got married.”

“Accidentally,” Lance pipes up, because he can see the Stress Muscle in Shiro’s eyebrow start to twitch, and doesn’t want him to start freaking out which will make Keith get defensive and put his foot in his mouth — he’s as bad as Lance, really — and then the whole thing will be more difficult to handle than it already is. “It’s a whole big thing.”

Shiro stares at them for several minutes, then sighs, sitting heavily onto the kitchen floor with his bowl of goo. He shovels a bite in his mouth, then reaches blindly for the intercom switch on the wall, slapping around until he finally manages to hit it.“Team,” he says tiredly as it crackles to life, “please make your way to the kitchen. Keith and Lance made something stupid again.” He drops his hand back down, returning his full attention to his goo, committing to pretending Keith and Lance aren’t in the room.

Which.

Fair.

“I resent that ‘again’,” Keith mutters petulantly. “We’ve been remarkably well-behaved lately.”

“No,” Shiro says, without a second of hesitation. He doesn’t bother arguing.

It doesn’t take the rest of the team long to get here — Hunk and Allura have appeared to have sprinted, drama loving bastards — and they join Shiro on the floor, turning expectant eyes to the Red and Black Paladins. After a look of deliberation, Keith and Lance sit down, too.

“Tell them what you just told me,” Shiro says, voice garbled through his food goo.

Here’s the thing.

Lance knows he should feel nervous. Or worried, or scared, or embarrassed, even, about getting literally magically bound to his self-proclaimed rival (once a rival always a rival) because he got brained by the jacket that he left unattended. It is, objectively, a sitcom-level ridiculous situation. He knows that he is going to be shamed, and possibly gently bullied.

However.

Keith’s hand still grips him tightly. Lance doubts the Black Paladin has noticed, but every so often he runs his thumb over his knuckles, and every time he does his lips twitch up in the slightest smile. Lance couldn’t feel anything but ludicrously happy if he tried.

Plus. He and Keith just, like, made out in the hallway a bunch. If Lance is being honest, his brain is still kind of fuzzy. He’s half focused on everyone else and half focused on replaying the feeling of Keith’s hands pressed to his cheeks, cupping his face, kissing him like he was drowning and Lance’s lungs were the only place he could get oxygen. He’s still kind of lightheaded, and keeps having to fight off giggles.

“We got married,” Lance says, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

As much as the team is used to their shit, that visibly shocks them. Coran squints at them and types something rapidly into his tablet. Pidge cusses and hands Allura a handful of GAC, which she pockets with a cackle. Hunk is the only outlier, the only one with a reaction Lance can’t place: he straightens up, looking between them with narrowed eyes, mouth flattened into a line.

“Explain yourselves.”

“It was an accident,” Keith assures, much like Lance did earlier. But instead of expressing is understanding, Hunk’s eyebrows only climb higher. Lance gets the same distinct feeling he gets when he knows he pressed the Wrong dialogue option in a video game.

“I hope you didn’t marry my best friend on accident, Kogane.”

Lance puts his head in his hands. He can physically feel the panic leeching from his husband’s (!!) body. He considers all the ways he can murder his best friend and make it look like an accident. He honestly doesn’t think he’s ever been this mortified in his life.

“No no no, I didn’t mean accident, well I guess I did —”

“Hunk,” Lance says through grit teeth. Hunk gives him a ‘what did I do’ look, stubborn set to his shoulders. Lance vows to take a seam ripper to his shirts.

“— like it was technically not a planned sequence of events, per se, if you want to look at things technically —”

Hunk continues to stare at Keith with his eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. Lance digs around in his pockets for something to chuck at his face.

“— if it went according to how I’d planned it in my head there would be more flowers involved, probably, and we’d be on Earth at least, but it kind of just happened, you know? It was so fast I swear I couldn’t have done anything —”

Lance tears his gaze away from Hunk and stares at his rambling mess of a husband. Any annoyance practically evaporates from his system as the implications of Keith’s words set in.

“You thought about marrying me?”

Keith flushes redder than he already is. “I’m not answering that.”

Lance barely manages to shove down the giddy laughter that bubbles up his throat. Keith, his crush, his rival, his husband, spent time daydreaming about marrying Lance. And kissing him, probably, and holding him and building a future with him. Keith maybe even got just as flustered as Lance did when they got too close, back off when sparing got a little too close, breathing heavy. The knowledge is exhilarating. Lance leans over, pressing his beaming smile to Keith’s lips. He softens immediately.

“I thought about marrying you, too.” He smirks. “Among other things.”

Keith’s gloved hand finds it’s way back up to his cheek, for the second time today, and the blood rushing in his ears downs out the sound of Pidge gagging.

“Gross. Can we force them to divorce? This is worse than the pining.”

“Physically impossible for me to divorce him,” Lance murmurs, distracted. “Since he technically owns me, now. Kind of.”

Keith makes a face. “I hate that a little.” He presses one last chaste kiss to Lance’s mouth before pulling away. It’s casual, and small, but the novelty of it is not lost on Lance.

He was not kissing Keith this morning, that was for certain.

It’s not until Lance manages to blink away his ga-ga eyes that he realizes that the rest of the team is looking at him in shocked confusion, and it clicks that his sentence would, sans context, be kind of horrifying to hear.

“Oh,” he blurts, without thinking, “I’m a Selkie.”

“You’re bad at this whole revelation thing,” Keith notices. “I think my Galra thing was somehow handled better.”

“Shut up.”

To his credit, Keith’s observation isn’t too far off. If anything everyone’s shock has only worsened, and it’s clear that Lance’s messy, half-explanations aren’t going to do much. The Alteans could probably do with some actual historical context, but for now, Lance thinks a demonstration is the wisest choice. And since he doesn’t have an ocean available to him, he decides to do the next best thing.

He slips his jacket carefully over his shoulders, spreading it out over his legs and gently running his fingertips over the rough canvas. Just as in his room, the fabric begins to blur, warp, change. He understands the change that is happening — it is his coat, after all; his own flesh — but he cannot find the words to describe it. There may not be. The coat simply changes in a way that is not comprehensible by non-Selkie eyes, as evidenced in the various strangled noises of bewilderment around him. Even Keith looks at the pelt in awe, unused to Earthen magic.

“How long have you been a seal person?” Pidge asks, hands twitching like she’s itching to touch.

“Two decades,” Lance says drily.

It doesn’t take long for the shock to melt away. That’s due in part to everyone’s curiosity, and the rest is because, as Lance suspected, their lives are just so goddamn weird — this Selkie thing just doesn’t even make top ten.

“So was that what the whole dramatic running out of the common room was about earlier?” Hunk clarifies.

Lance nods. “Yeah. I didn’t…I got too comfortable. Left my pelt out, Keith tossed it at me, boom, it’s not longer mine. Luckily I was wrong about how dangerous that is, ‘cause I didn’t lose my free will or anything, but I am essentially married to Keith now. So.” He turns to his husband and grins. “I don’t think he minds.”

Ignoring Pidge’s mutter of “here we go again,” Keith smiles back, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t comfortable before.”

Lance looks up at Shiro, startled by the seriousness in his voice. His tired look from earlier is gone, replaced with something narrow-eyed, serious.

“Huh?”

“You said you got too comfortable.” He gestures to Lance’s lap. “With your pelt. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell us.”

“And I’m sorry for threatening you, Keith,” Hunk adds. “Well, it was barely a threat, but still.”

Keith reaches over to pat his shoulder. “All good, man. It was understandable. Lance probably warrants some threatening on his behalf.”

Lance narrows his eyes. He’s sure that’s an insult, somehow.

“Hunk, do not scare my husband away with your foolishness —”

“I know you’re just saying that to have an excuse to say ‘my husband’, you whipped simp —”

“Fuck off, no one asked you —”

“Pardon my interruption,” Coran says, holding up a hand. “But what is a Selkie?”

Allura raises her hand as well. “I would also like to know!”

“If I’ll be honest, I’m not that familiar with the legend either,” Pidge admits.

Lance pauses for a moment, considering. He knows that explaining everything would take a long time, and he knows he doesn’t have the energy for that. It’s something you learn over time, anyway, over years of stories at the right time. He can simplify some information, though. Get the point across.

“I’m not human,” he starts carefully. “I’m also not alien, not not-human. It’s complicated.” He runs his hand over the soft fur of his coat. “My pelt is like…a physical manifestation of my soul, I think. My quintessence? I’m not entirely sure. But when I wear it, I become another form of mine. Kind of like your shapeshifting, maybe? I turn into a seal, but I’m still very much me. And it’s not like I’m a seal with a human brain, or whatever. I’m a seal, I’m a human, I’m a Selkie. I’m never not those three things.”

Pidge cocks her head. “So you’re a seal right now?”

“Yeah. I’m a Selkie, I have to be. Unless my pelt were to be truly lost, I guess. If someone set it on fire I wouldn’t be a Selkie anymore. I’d lose my soul.”

“Jesus,” Pidge shudders.

Keith looks determinedly at him. “I won’t let that happen.”

“No shit,” Lance says, raising an amused eyebrow. “That’s your job now, Mullet. The pelt is yours to guard. You took it, it’s your responsibility.”

Keith’s determined expression does not change. Lance is just a little endeared but it. As unconventional as this has been, Keith genuinely seems to be excited to be with him. And if Lance trusts his word — which he does — then Keith has wanted to be with Lance for a while. With his space family’s approval, and the certainty that he will have the same from his Earth family when he makes it home, the weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying finally drops from his shoulders.

“God, I can’t wait to human marry you.”

Shiro sighs. This time, it sounds significantly more amused. He gets to his feet, dusting off his hands. “I guess that falls to me, huh,” he says, waving them over. “C’mere.”

Keith and Lance scramble up, running over to where Shiro stands, at the head of the table. He holds two twist-ties in his head that he has formed into rudimentary rings.

“I feel contractually obligated to remind you about Adam’s stance in elopement,” he says, looking pointedly at Keith. “And Lance, I don’t know your mother personally, but your sister and I were colleagues. You are also going to get into leagues or trouble when we get home.”

Lance grins brightly. “I am going to get in leagues of trouble anyway!”

Keith nods. “I left Earth against Adam’s specific instructions. I’m toast no matter what, so I might as well do the best thing I will ever do in my life before then.”

Lance’s ears burn. He glances down at his sneakers, embarrassed and pleased all at once.

He’s the best thing that Keith will ever do in his life. God.

“Well, that answers my first question, then.” Shiro turns to Lance. “Since Keith obviously does, do you, Lance, wish to take Keith as your lawfully wedded husband, so long as you shall live?”

Lance grins. “I would love nothing more.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the five dollar certificate I got online, I pronounce you wed. Congratulations. You may kiss the groom.”

Neither of them wait for Shiro to finish his sentence, surging forward immediately, colliding in the middle like magnets. Lance feels the weight of his pelt on his shoulders and Keith’s hands on his face in equal measures. It feels like swimming free.

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 08)

Soap/Reader — MDNI 18+

Sorry for the wait as usual. Hope y’all can forgive me!

/:/:/:/:/:/:/

FEBRUARY — FRIDAY: 7 days until the wedding

In the month or so after Christmas, your relationship with Johnny had progressed considerably. He was on a particularly challenging tour, but you only heard about his work in sparse mentions. Most of his conversations were centered around your relationship “after we tell Pidge”.

It was all he wanted to talk about.

“After we tell Pidge, we can look for a place together in Glasgow. What do you say, lass?”

“After we tell Pidge, we can take trips with them. Always wanted to see Iceland.”

“After we tell Pidge…”

And on and on and on. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited to be with him. You adored him, and he seemed to feel the same way about you. But, telling Pidge was scaring you out of your damn mind. In the worst case scenario, you’d be losing your best friend and the man that you…

Careful, that dark voice was back in your head , don’t want to say the word, huh?

The man that you… liked a considerable amount. Not love. Love was a commitment. You were not in love.

The dark voice cackled. You ignored it.

You were going to see him this weekend for the combination stag and hen party, and you could think of little else. But, you had plenty to work on. As the maid of honor, this was your time to shine. You needed to prepare for more than just seeing Johnny. In fact, you were about to have six girls at your tiny apartment for a slumber party tomorrow night. The whole 600 square feet of your place was decorated in gold glitter and streamers. There were big B-R-I-D-E letters above your bed, and a giant inflatable diamond ring was propped up on your futon. You’d already sprayed Marlowe twice with the water bottle for threatening it with her claws.

Tonight, though, you were alone. You had asked Johnny if he would fly in early, but he hadn’t been able to confirm. So, you were sitting on your bed, staring at your phone, dressed only in his shirt, praying for some miracle.

You stayed up as late as you could, but still no call.

SATURDAY — Early morning: 6 days until the wedding

Your phone buzzed where it lay against your chest. You slowly awoke, and it was still dark outside. Bleary and only semi-conscious, you picked it up without looking at the screen,

“Hello?” You croaked.

“Mo mèirleach,” he whispered, “Open the door, hen. It’s fuckin’ frigid.”

“What?” You didn’t understand. Johnny was outside? You looked at the clock. It was 0311.

“I’m downstairs! Buzz me up.”

You did, and then you waited, waking up more and more as you stood in the kitchen, drinking some water to clear your dry throat.

He knocked softly, and you let him in. Immediately, and without so much as dropping his rucksack, he pulled you into his arms. You smelled his sweat, a strong hint of fire or smoke, and something you couldn’t quite place. It was almost like gasoline, but not quite. He’d come straight from the field.

“Hey,” he pressed his forehead to yours and kissed you gently, smelling your skin and nuzzling into your hair.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him, hugging him a little tighter.

Having him back was making you feel like no time had passed at all. He held you just as he did when he told you goodbye in December, and now, all of January felt like some wasted dream.

You looked behind him,

“Where are the others? I thought you said they’d be coming to the party this weekend.”

“Put them up at a wee hotel. The Indigo, just a few blocks away. But, I’ve been sleepin’ on the fuckin’ floor too many nights, now. And I wanna be in my woman’s arms instead.”

His woman. Your heart clenched in your chest. He noticed your emotional response to his words; always the observant one. His smile felt so good, even though he had caught you in his snare,

“Aye. You’re my woman, aren’t you?”

Huge, rough hands warmed your skin as they snaked underneath your shirt, reaching up across your belly, finding your hanging breasts and squeezing them ever so gently.

“Shower with me, lass. I’m right filthy.”

“Alright,” you nodded, and he pulled your shirt off the rest of the way, discovering the nothing you were wearing underneath.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Johnny lamented, holding you at arm’s length to study your skin and curves with a deep admiration, “Look at you, mèirleach. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m dreamin’.”

You led him to the bathroom, which you doubted was big enough for the both of you, and he stripped off all of his dirty clothes. You helped him, peeling him apart, layer by layer, discovering him in pieces.

His broad chest filled your vision in the tiny washroom, and you latched onto his nipple, tasting the salt from his sweat as you did and listening to him moan. He laughed from the sudden sensation of it,

“It’s sensitive, lass. Easy…”

Your eyes found his, showing him that you knew what it felt like, and you did not relent. You enjoyed watching him squirm beneath you, his hands resting on the side of your neck, threatening to pull you away when he became overwhelmed.

You gave him a break, kissing across his tattooed ribs and over his belly. He lifted your face up to his, pressing you against the bathroom counter, growling in whispers at you,

“Careful, thief. Don’t go givin’ me ideas.”

“What kind of ideas, Johnny?” You teased, dragging his boxers down over his plump ass to squeeze his cheeks in your hands.

“Ideas about what I’d like to put in that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

He grabbed your hand and shoved it onto his hard cock, still covered by his boxer briefs, the fabric askew and taut, ready to come off.

“See what you fuckin’ do to me, thief?”

You smiled, staring down at the evidence of what you had done to him. You took his hand and slowly moved it between your legs, letting him curl and experimental finger up just far enough to dip into your wetness.

“See what you do to me?”

He shuddered, his body falling forward, and he caught himself with his free hand on the countertop, pinning you beneath him. He was playing inside of you with his fingertip, as achingly slowly and gently as could be, barely moving it, basking in your warmth. His face contorted into a twisted grimace, and he grunted,

“Fuckin’ hell, mèirleach. Get in the damn shower, or I’ll have you right here, lass.”

The shower curtain rings hissed across their metal rod as he followed you inside. You washed your hair, and you used your soapy hands to wash his. The soap turned brown with dirt and sand, and you made a face, laughing,

“Johnny! You are filthy.”

“Yeah, we ran into some trouble at the end of our mission. Lost contact with base. Had to camp in the wee mountains for a few nights, tryin’ not to freeze to death.”

“Holy shit…”

You pitied him, using your vanilla scented soap to scrub down his body for him, letting him be treated to your sudsy massage.

“Knowin’ I was comin’ back to you kept me goin’. I dreamt about this wee shower, hen. Even Ghost was surprised that I was able to keep my whingin’ to a minimum. But, I knew you were here and I wasnae gonna let anythin’ stop me from comin’ home to you.”

He bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back, letting the water wash over you both, bathing you in the heat of each other. He pulled away, grinning like he’d won something, and you felt the blush rise into your cheeks.

You made the hand signal for him to turn around and he spun, giving you his wide back, planting both of his hands on the wall like you were going to search him.

You started at his neck, washing away days of dirt and grime, feeling his swollen muscles pull and push against his bones. He had a new tattoo on his spine. It was a little Gaelic word that you couldn’t read.

With your fingertip, you traced over the black ink, softly rubbing over the raised skin, healed but fresh. He stilled, realizing you’d noticed it.

“Gealladh. It means ‘promise’.”

You wiped it clear of soap and lay your lips to it, kissing it softly, making him tremble beneath you. You tried to pronounce it, whispering it against his skin.

The rest of the shower went quickly, and by the time you were clean, he was ready to get dirty again, fondling you and rubbing across his curved length hungrily.

He wrapped you in your towel and watched you braid your hair, kissing your neck and sharing your toothbrush. You tried not to be grossed out by it, but you made a face and he rolled his eyes, spitting out the paste into your sink and trying to kiss you with his messy lips. You giggled, leaving him in the bathroom to finish up.

The cool air in your apartment made you clamber to get under the covers, eager to warm up and anxious for him to join you. He sauntered out of the bathroom looking like some Greek god, wet and tanned, tattooed and scarred, fresh from the bonds of war.

He threw his towel down with yours and climbed into bed next to you, curling you up in his arms, sighing with the most delighted contentment. His big jaw pressed into the side of your neck, looking for purchase, and he began to suck and lick at your skin, traveling down your shoulder to your nape, sending shivers down your arms.

“Did you miss me, mo mèirleach?” His voice was so quiet, you could barely hear him.

“I did, mo chridhe,” you whispered back, turning your body to face him.

He took both of your hands in both of his and kissed your forehead. All of his sexual overtones and lurid advances in the shower had somehow been washed away, and as the orange blush of dawn came through your window, he looked changed. His hair was soft, the mohawk all grown out and curling at the tips, his eyes glassy and full of something that looked suspiciously like hope.

“I know this has been hard on you, lass. I’ve been more than just a wee bit selfish, and I want you to know I’ll make it right. I promise you that. Do you hear me?”

You nodded, pressing your cheek to his chest, inching closer to him. He wrapped you in a tight hug, holding you too close.

Did you believe him? Would everything work out for the best? Or were you continuing down a path that would lead to ruin? How easy it was for him to convince you of the opposite. He could lead you like a lamb to the slaughter, and you’d go willingly, bleating up at him with all your love and affection as he pushed you into the chute.

His arm became heavy, and you heard his breaths lengthen in his chest, and you knew he was asleep. You had an alarm set, so you curled up in his warmth, letting him doze, allowing yourself to sink into the murky blackness of sleep along with him.

SATURDAY — Lunchtime: 6 days until the wedding

Johnny had changed into something clean and left you in bed, kissing your face and promising all sorts of filthy things to you after the bar crawl tonight. He begged you to dance with him when you wound up at the club, washing away your worries about Pidge, claiming she’d be too drunk to notice. You rushed him out, warning him she’d be here for lunch, and washed your sheets.

Sure enough, your phone rang and Pidge was outside your apartment, screaming with six other girls to be buzzed up not an hour after Johnny left, and you breathed a sigh of relief they’d missed each other coming and going.

You had the whole day planned out. Lunch was at a little cafe near the river, perfect for a photo op or two. Then, you’d booked a nail salon for mani-pedis for the whole squad. After that, it was back to the apartment to put on your faces before going “out-out”.

For the most part, the day had been a wild success. Pidge was already a little tipsy from the non-stop mimosas, and even though your bank account had seen better days, it wasn’t that bad. Now, you were in the middle of the evening ferality. Someone had ordered a pizza and there was hairspray in places you didn’t think hairspray could go. Marlowe was hiding in her cubby under your bed, and you were already done getting ready.

You’d told everyone it was black and white themed. Ham and Pidge would be in white, with all of you in black, and the goal at the end of the night was for them to find each other by hopping from bar to bar. The stag would chase the hen through downtown Glasgow, and you’d planned to have them all end up at The Berkeley Suite.

There were girls everywhere. It was like a bomb had gone off in your apartment, and there wasn’t really a space for privacy except for the bathroom (as long as you shooed everyone out of it first).

“I’ll just be a second!” You shouted over the thumping music, closing the door behind them.

You took care of business and spent a brief minute checking your phone. You had two texts from Johnny, and when you opened them, your breath caught in your throat.

Mo Chridhe: open this when youre alone thief

Mo Chridhe: blacksuit.jpg

Johnny had sent you a mirror selfie of his outfit, and he looked stunning. You couldn’t believe it was him. You’d never seen him so dressed up. His hair was shaven on the sides, the mohawk back to its full potential, and his suit was a gorgeous black with velvet lapels and a gold chain between the button holes. He wore no tie, instead letting the first two buttons hang open rakishly, showing off his tanned chest.

You texted him back:

You: you are still so damn hot lol

Mo Chridhe: show me you

You obeyed, taking a racy selfie in the bathroom mirror just like he had done. You showed off your cleavage , and the short, high cut of the dress as it hugged your ass. You tried your best to be pouty, just like all the Instagram models, but you weren’t sure if you succeeded.

Mo Chridhe: i might be the luckiest cunt alive or im dreamin

You: lol ;)

Mo Chridhe: ham might be chasin pidge all night but ill be chasin you

You smiled down at your phone before closing the app and returning to the fray.

Glittered, glammed, and ready for a night of debauchery, you took your phone off its charger and made your way out into the cold evening air. Pidge had brought a jacket, but Cherise had decided to go without, claiming that hot girls didn’t get cold. You were definitely cold, so you wondered what that implied.

The first stop was The Variety Bar. You had texted Johnny and told him to warn you before their first bar choice so that you could pay the tab and bolt before Hamish could put his hands on Pidge. But, it didn’t really work out like that. You had all ended up as one big group, and spent most of the time jokingly keeping them from kissing each other. Price held up a wet coaster between their mouths which sent Pidge coughing and spitting, causing enough of a ruckus that you decided to move to the next spot.

Johnny sat with you at the bar while you paid, trying his best to keep his hands off of you.

“Lookin’ like a right goddess tonight, you are.”

“Stop it,” you smiled, “No flirting allowed while your sister is literally right behind us.”

“Och,” he shook his head, “She’s in her own wee world. Where to next, lass?”

You slid the check back to the bartender and thanked him, turning to Johnny and smirking triumphantly, knowing he still needed to pay before he could follow you,

“Don’t you hunt people for a living? Come and get me.”

You left him at the bar, frozen with a delightful look of surprise on his face. You found Pidge and the other girls outside.

“Alright,” you smiled, “Onward. Let’s head over to Max’s.”

“Oh, God,” Anjali sighed, “You really want her to blackout, huh?”

“Fuck it! Max’s it is, ladies!” Pidge screamed.

Everyone cheered and marched on after her. She cuddled into your arm as you walked,

“Thank you so much for this, babes. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for, you know that?”

“You are, too,” you kissed her on her temple and squeezed her arm a bit tighter.

By the time you’d had two drinks at Max’s, Hamish’s clan found you again. Gaz was the one who spotted you through the window, holding his hands up to the glass and pointing you out.

“Uh oh,” you smiled, “Last call, girls.”

Cherise laughed,

“I don’t know why we’re running. Might as well just party with them.”

“It’s tradition, right?” Bekah rolled her eyes.

“Well,” Pidge shrugged, “You all can wait here then, if you prefer the boys to me.”

“No! Pidge, that’s not it, babe,” Cherise protested.

Pidge drunkenly waved her off,

“It’s fine, no worries. See you at Berkeley’s. How about that?”

Pidge stormed off out the door, and you followed behind trying to get her to calm down. She eventually did, drinking the water you had bought for her. But, that was how the group got split. Half the boys ended up with you and Pidge and Anjali, and the other half waited at Max’s until the happy hour rounds were over.

You’d gotten all settled in at Berkeley, listening to the loud club music, letting the high of your buzz wash over you, trying not to think about how nice it would be to have Johnny here, dancing with you like he promised.

Then, Pidge realized she forgot her jacket, so she sent you back to the other bar. You left her with Gaz and Ghost, and Price wandered out into the street with you.

“‘Bout time Hamish finally caught his hen anyway,” you speculated as you walked with him.

“Aye,” he agreed, “And maybe your stag as well.”

Your eyes darted up to him and then checked over your shoulder, just to make sure Pidge wasn’t behind you.

Price continued,

“Are you sure keepin’ him a secret is the right thing? He’s dyin’ to tell her. Fuck, he was tellin’ people he didn’t even know about you.”

You smiled,

“Yeah, I know. I just want the wedding to be about her. Nothing is ever about her, you know? She deserves to have a day where she doesn’t need to consider other people’s feelings for once.”

“What about your feelings?” Price asked.

You didn’t answer him. You just shrugged and kept walking. Suddenly, you heard screaming behind you,

“Wait! Wait up!”

Pidge and the rest of the crew rushed over to you and Price.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“We’re gonna surprise Hamish this time,” Pidge smiled, pulling out a big confetti popper from her purse.

“Oh, God,” you grinned, looping your arm through hers and dragging her along.

Nothing was going according to plan that night, but you were so tired that it was hard for you to care. You weren’t even sure if Hamish’s group was still at the other bar, and you hadn’t heard a thing from Bekah or Cherise.

Finally, you made it back to Max’s. Just as you were about to open the door, it burst open and out poured Johnny, tangled in Bekah’s arms. She was giggling and kissing his cheek, leaving streaks of purple lipstick all over his freshly shaven skin. He was holding her close to him, his fingers digging into her side so tightly.

You knew what that felt like.

You gasped, stepping back, stunned. He looked right into your eyes and stopped. The whole world came to a grinding halt. All of the time that you had spent together seemed to lay out in front of you, prostrating itself, and being found unworthy. You felt nothing. Just a creeping numbness that leaked into your core, a fire burning without kindling, unable to be extinguished.

“Och, Jesus and all the fuckin’ saints,” Pidge threw her hands up, “Couldnae even wait until after the party to get your hands into one of my mates, could you? Arsehole. Get outta the way.”

“No, tha’s not it, Pidge!” He frowned, “Bekah doesnae —”

“Bekah, what?” Pidge spat in his face, “Bekah doesnae care that you’ll turn up next month or next year or next week in a box with the wee Scottish flag draped over it? Okay. Now, move yourself from the door, Jonathan.”

Bekah was sort of octopusing herself around him, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders, sucking on his earlobe, caring very little about the Scottish flag no matter where it was draped.

Johnny was trying to fight her off now, suddenly angry at Pidge,

“What did you just say to me, Brigette?”

“Oh, shut up! You’re just like your da, and you’ll end up dead like him, too. See?” Pidge turned to you suddenly, eyes wild with fury, “This is why I warned you, Johnny MacTavish is a fuckin’ widowmaker. And that’s all he’ll ever be.”

She finally made it around her brother and wrenched the door open, disappearing into the club. Johnny still had Bekah in his arms, and you couldn’t be there anymore. You turned and walked in the direction of your apartment, miles away but hell-bent on getting back there.

“Hey! Wait! Thief, please. This isn’t what it looks like,” his voice was cold and distant. You didn’t turn around to listen. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you didn’t need to see it to know how it felt.

Johnny could have Bekah. He was allowed to have her. He was not allowed to have you, and you couldn’t have him. That much was clear now. You should’ve listened to your friend. You’d known all along, hadn’t you?

“Wait, mèirleach!”

You spun on him like a snake, striking out sure and true,

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

He could see in your eyes that you were serious, venomous as you were in your delivery. His eyes looked desperate, like a kicked dog, but he didn’t let her go. She smiled and waved at you, looking drunker than you’d ever seen anyone look. You tasted the bile in your mouth from your disgust.

Price jogged to keep up with you, and he grabbed your arm,

“Wait, girl. Just wait a second.”

You jerked your hand away and hailed a cab that was pulled over on your side of the street. You climbed in and shut the door, begging the cabbie to drive quickly, and he did. You stared out the window, watching all of the lights blind you as they seared into your eyes, burning the images you’d seen that night brightly into your memory.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Chapter 09

[electricsynthesis]

"You're going back to Earth," Lance insists, unceremoniously shoving the tablet into Keith's lap. He sticks his nose in the air and sniffs with exaggerated superiority. "And I'm incredibly jealous. So let me live vicariously through you, come on."

"By writing a list?" Keith replies, irritated. He picks up the tablet to find open to a notetaking program. He leans back against the plush couch of the lounge in cursory defiance. As if sinking into the fabric will get his teammates to leave him alone. Hardly.

"By writing a list of Earth things," Pidge stresses. She reaches over Lance's lap to pull the stylus out of it's sleeve on the side of the tablet. She holds it out to Keith, big, young eyes uncompromising.

"It's like, team bonding," Hunk says reasonably, eyes smiling even if his mouth isn't. "Besides, have you thought about what you're going to do with your time on Earth?"

"Uh," Keith mutters. "No? I figured I'd figure it out when I got there. I'll be focused on the mission anyway."

Lance cries, "Diplomacy with the Garrison is not going to take you that long--"

Pidge says, "You'd be insane not to do something--"

And Hunk says, "Well, Allura's coming with you." When everyone else falls silent, he raises an eyebrow. "Don't you want to show her some cool Earth stuff? I know she wants to get to know it better--"

"Fine," Keith snarls. He snatches the stylus from Pidge's fingers and scoots himself until he's sitting up. He positions the stylus over the paper, getting ready to write, and then,

uh, and then nothing.

He sits there, mind utterly blank. Like a still pond in there. Not a single breeze of thought. Keith just stares at the empty page, limbs frozen.

"Keith?"

What do I want to do on Earth?

His mind races. Races, and still gets utterly nowhere. Like a stalling car, his brain stutters and buffers and grinds itself nowhere. "I don't know,"

"What?"

"I don't know what I want to do on Earth."

Lance makes an irritated noise. "You're insane. You must miss something about Earth."

Keith does not move.

"Like, what about the food?" Lance cries. "Or the music? Or the clothes? Or TV? Movies? Concerts? Shopping?"

"Yeah," Hunk agrees, "don't you have a favorite Earth food? Something there's no substitute for out here. Something that just," he sighs, a little wistfully, "is so quintessentially Earth that it just..."

Hunk trails off when Keith begins to write. Something's occurred to him, spurred on by Hunk nostalgia for food. Something that is nostalgic to him, but hadn't entered his mind until Hunk said those words...

Keith wants to hide it from them, but Lance is already bullying his way into Keith's personal space to get a good look at the screen. Keith tries to tilt it away, but Lance's hand jerks out and grips it by the side so he can drag it to his face. He gets right up against it, blinking, as if he can't believe what he's reading.

"Pink Monster?" He says, in utter bewilderment.

Pidge gags. Hunk's mouth drops open.

Keith rips the tablet from Lance's fingers and cradles it defensively against his chest. "What?" He says, more snappishly than he intends. Hunk closes his mouth, Pidge covers her's, but Lance's expression blooms into a smile. And then a grin. And then he's laughing.

It starts out as a snicker; a snort. Then it devolves into giggles, and then further into little laughs that he tries and fails to smother with a hand. And then he gives up, and throws his head back and cackles, lips parted and chest shuddering in wild laughter. He smacks his palms to his cheeks loud enough to make Keith flinch.

"Shut the fuck up!" Keith shouts, despite the fact that Lance hasn't actually said anything. His cheeks are warm with embarrassment. "It's good! I like it!"

Lance drags his hands down his face, still laughing. And, he gasps for breath, face twisted into a smile it seems he almost can't help. He laughs through the words, "You gotta," a breath, "you gotta give it to him, Earth is the only, the only place in the galaxy that would invent pink Monster,"

And then Hunk and Pidge are laughing, too, fondly. Keith himself cracks a smile, shame easing into something warmer. Lance shakes his head, regaining control of himself. His cheeks are still flushed, and his eyes still sparkling. Smiling widely, he asks Keith, "Why do you like it?"

"Every 7/11 had it when I was a kid," he shrugs. "So when I'd get tired of the other kids, I'd skip school to go, and I'd always get a monster. Pink is just my favorite. I did it like three times a week."

"Where'd you get the money?" Pidge asks, narrowing her eyes.

Telling her about the time he got sent to juvie for a stolen candy bar, of all things, was a mistake. "I didn't." It wasn't about the candy bar, anyway. And he never got caught with the Monster.

"No wonder you're insane," Lance says. He pokes Keith's temple, which causes Keith to startle back, glaring at him. "It's all the caffeine."

"It make me feel sleepy," Keith defends.

"Caffeine made you sleepy?"

"Yes--!"

"No, yeah, that happens sometimes," Hunk interjects. "It's called an erroneous response and--"

"So is that it?" Pidge says, loud enough to interrupt the brewing lecture. "That's all you want on Earth?"

Keith narrows his eyes in thought. Then, he shrugs. "You think Allura would be down to go to a concert?"

All three of them yell, loud enough to startle the mice awake across the room: YES!

[sunriserose1023]

Point of Ignition [seven]

WARNINGS: Illness, fever, taking care of sick people, medications WORD COUNT: 3112

masterlist

The door opened before you could knock on it, revealing Bucky standing there with a huge smile on his face. 

“Welcome home, Pidge.”

He took your bags, carrying them down the hall to his room as you took your shoes off at the door. Natasha was sitting in Sam’s lap on the couch, a smile on her plump lips. 

“Nice to see you again.” “Oh, shut up.”

Sam cackled at you, giving Natasha’s thigh a squeeze. Bucky walked back into the room and straight to you, hands going to your hips as he lifted you and twirled you around. 

“I’m so glad you’re home!” “Put me down!”

Natasha laughed as Bucky set you on your feet, throwing an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close. 

“I say pizza to celebrate. Who’s with me?”

You stepped into the apartment, soaked to the skin from the thunderstorm that caught you without an umbrella as you walked back from class. Bucky had offered to drop you off and pick you up, but no. You’d refused in an effort to try to get more exercise. 

Stupid. 

You shivered as the cool air in the apartment blew over your dripping form. Not only had the thunderstorm come out of nowhere, but it brought with it rapidly dropping temperatures. You sneezed, making a face as you trudged down the hall to the bathroom, not worrying about the puddles you were leaving behind. 

You turned the shower on and let it warm up, making a face as you wrestled out of your soaking wet clothes. You left them in a pile on the floor and climbed into the shower, shivering at first, then moaning softly as the warmth of the water finally started to warm you. 

“Pidge?”

You jerked your head up, turning around and covering your naked body. 

“Bucky, what the hell?!” “Oh, relax. I can’t see anything. You’ve got everything steamed up in here.” “Get out!” “Relax, pigeon. Did something spring a leak or—“ “No, that was me. I got caught in the rain. “You walked all the way from campus in this storm? Fuck, Pidge. Why didn’t you call me?”

You hung your head, creeping further under the warm water. Your voice was soft when you answered. 

“I don’t know.”

Bucky didn’t respond for a moment, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him gather your clothes in his arms. 

“I’ll get you some warm clothes and throw these in the wash. Jesus, Pidge, these things are soaked.” “Buck—“

The door closed and you sighed, sniffling once before you grabbed the shampoo on the soap ledge. 

You dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants and one of Bucky’s hoodies that he’d left out for you on his bed. It practically swallowed you, but it was warm and smelled like him. You made your way down the hall, sniffling once and swallowing, then making a face. You went for the kitchen and got a bottle of water, then turned to see Bucky sitting on the couch with a blanket beside him. He tore his eyes from the TV and glanced your way as a soft smile came to his lips. 

“Come cuddle with me and watch a movie. Let me warm you up.”

You raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. 

“I did not mean that as sexual as it sounded.”

You made your way to the living room, shaking your head. 

“I’m not sitting on that couch.” “It’s been cleaned and sanitized.”

You stared at him and he shook his head, eyes wide. 

“What? I’m serious!”

You held your ground, narrowing your eyes and he sighed. 

“Alright, I sprayed some Febreze and flipped the cushions. It’s the best I could do.”

You sighed, but smiled as you made your way to him, sitting beside him and tucking your feet under you. Bucky reached over you, grabbing the blanket and tucking it around you. 

“Did the shower help?” “A little. I’m still kind of cold.” “Well, come here.”

He all but scooped you up, tugging you close to his side and keeping an arm around you. You started to shake your head, but instead, you leaned into him. 

“God, you’re like a furnace.” “I’ve always run hot. Want me to take my shirt off? Oh, you know body heat is the best way to warm someone.” “You’re a comedian, I swear.”

Bucky chuckled, giving your arm a gentle rub. He picked up the remote, pointing it at the television. 

“Disney movie or that new murder doc on Hulu?” “Disney. Can we watch Tangled?" “Sure you don’t want to watch Lady and the Tramp, Pidge?”

You gave a quiet laugh, laying your hand on Bucky’s flat stomach.

“Put that one on next.”

Bucky smiled. 

“You got it.”

Natasha stepped into the apartment and pulled the hood of her rain jacket back, shaking her head. 

“It’s a monsoon.”

Sam was behind her, shaking out the umbrella and leaving it outside by the door. 

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s stopping anytime soon.”

He started to go into the apartment, stopping when Natasha was in the way, completely still. 

“Nat, it’s cold out here. Go in.” “Look.”

Sam leaned around her, eyebrows raising when he saw you and Bucky on the couch. Bucky was stretched out across the cushions, head on the armrest, one arm behind his head. You were curled around him, head on his chest, huddled under a blanket, and his other arm was around you. 

Sam lifted Natasha by her hips and set her inside, giving himself enough room to close the door behind them. Sam glanced at the TV, chuckling under his breath when he noticed the Disney Plus login screen. He shrugged his jacket off, hanging it on a hook near the door, then looked at his watch. 

“Should we wake them up to eat?” “I don’t know. Does her face look flushed to you?”

Sam walked a little closer to the couch, stopping when Bucky shifted, arm tightening around you, holding you a bit closer. He leaned down, then stood back up. 

“Uh oh. Yeah, it does.” “Crap. I hope she’s not sick. When she gets sick, she gets hospital sick.” “Maybe it’s just because she’s got a hoodie on under that blanket. Plus, she’s all up on Buck. He’s like a damn furnace.”

Natasha nodded, biting her lip. 

“Yeah, maybe.” “Come on. Let’s let them rest and make it an early night.”

Bucky opened his eyes to find the apartment dark, save for the light above the stove. He closed his eyes again and sighed, opening them and smiling when he saw you sleeping on his chest. 

“Pidge, let’s go to bed.”

You made a soft noise, and Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he noticed how warm his chest was. He lifted a hand to brush it against your face, eyes widening when his fingers registered the scorch of your skin. 

“Shit, Pidge, you’re burning up. Hey, baby, wake up.”

You moaned, slowly blinking your eyes open. Bucky swallowed at the look in your eyes and how flushed your cheeks were. 

“Can you sit up?”

You did, with his help, groaning at the ache in your bones. 

“Bucky, I don’t feel good.” “I know, pigeon. Hang tight for a second.”

You whimpered as he climbed off the couch, closing your eyes and shivering. 

“Open your mouth, Pidge.”

You did, keeping your eyes closed as Bucky slid the thermometer under your tongue. You jolted when a beeping noise sounded, opening your eyes to see Bucky’s widen as he stared at the thermometer. 

“Oh, you’re sick, honey.”

He turned the thermometer to show you where the display read 102 degrees. You met his eyes and he held up a finger, leaving you to go into the kitchen. You closed your eyes again, waking when Bucky sat on the coffee table in front of you. 

“Take this.”

He placed two pills in your hand and you stuck them in your mouth, swallowing them with a glass of water. You winced at the ache in your throat and Bucky nodded. 

“Drink it all for me, Pidge.” “Buck—“ “I know. Drink it anyway.”

You nodded, sipping from the glass until it was empty. Bucky took it from you, standing to his feet and holding out a hand. 

“Let’s go to bed.”

You put your hand in his and stood up, leaning against him when your knees buckled. 

“Easy, Pidge. Let’s just stand here a minute.”

You rested your head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you. 

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” “I don’t feel good.” “I know."

You moved closer to him, putting your forehead against his neck. 

“Jesus, Pidge. You’re so hot.” “Stop trying to … get in my pants.”

Bucky laughed. 

“I meant it literally, but whatever you say.”

He rubbed a hand up and down your back, taking a step forward. You moved with him and together, you slowly made your way down the hall. 

Hot. 

You were so hot, but that must have been because you were huddled under a pile of blankets. You managed to fight your way out from under the blanket pile, a feat which exhausted you so much you fell asleep. 

Cold. 

You opened your eyes to find yourself curled into a ball, entire body trembling. Your teeth were even chattering. You slowly turned your head to see blankets in reach, but your arms hurt to move them. Your legs were the same way. It felt like your entire skeleton just ached, and all you could do was moan softly. 

“Hey, everything’s okay. You cold?”

You opened your eyes to see Bucky standing over you. You nodded and he reached for the blankets, gently laying them over you. 

“Open your mouth for me, Pidge.”

You did, eyes drifting closed as he stuck a thermometer under your tongue. You jolted when it beeped, opening your eyes to see Bucky sigh. 

“Hanging steady at 102. It's time for some more Tylenol, okay?”

You just stared at him and he smiled at you. 

“I’ll be right back, Pidge.”

You winced as you snuggled your aching body down under the covers. You forced your eyes to stay open, teeth still chattering. Bucky walked back into the room and placed two pills and a glass on the bedside table. 

“I know this is going to suck, but you’ve got to sit up to take the pills.” “No, Bucky, please.” “Come on, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

You moaned as he helped you sit up, moving behind you so you could rest against him. You were breathing hard from the exertion, and Bucky held the pills to your lips. You opened your mouth and he slipped the pills in, the glass of water held to your lips a second later. You swallowed the pills, finishing the water at Bucky’s gentle coaxing. 

He set the empty glass back on the bedside table, and you took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you settled against him. 

“Let’s get you back comfortable, okay?”

You nodded, Bucky’s hands gentle as he helped you lay back down. He covered you with the blankets, gently brushing your hair off your forehead. You opened your eyes and stared up at him. 

“Stay with me.”

He blinked as he watched your eyes drift closed a few seconds before they opened again. You slid a hand from beneath the covers and Bucky smiled. He moved to slide in the bed on his side, inching up behind you until he was spooning you, holding you on top of the covers. 

“I can’t stay long. Nat and Sam need their meds in about an hour and it’s a fight every time.” “Mm-hmm.”

Bucky gave a quiet laugh, feeling your body relax as you fell back to sleep. He sighed, bending where his forehead was against your shoulder. He could feel the heat of your fever through his t-shirt you were wearing, and he knew he’d be back in an hour or two to give you another fever reliever. 

He’d been doing everything he could for the past two days, but your fever never dipped under one hundred. Nat and Sam had started running fever yesterday and last night respectively, and Bucky was constantly praying he’d miss this illness. He was pretty sure you all had the flu, and a campus-wide email of multiple classes being canceled only fueled his theory. Bucky had called the campus clinic, which was overrun with sick students, and when someone had finally taken his call, they told him to try to keep the fevers managed and to visit the ER if they got too high or any breathing problems arose. 

You were snoring softly, thanks to the congestion in your head, and Bucky snuggled closer to you. He wasn’t doing much to protect himself from getting sick, but you were his priority at the moment. He let himself close his eyes, just listening to you breathe.

“Pidge. Hey, sweetheart.”

You moaned, gasping when a cool, damp rag was pressed to your forehead. You opened your eyes to see Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, another cool rag in his hand. 

“I’m going to put this on your neck, okay?”

You nodded, gasping again when the cool rag touched your skin. You brought your fever-glazed eyes to his and Bucky sighed. 

“Your fever’s at 104. We’ve got to get it down, okay?”

You just stared at him and he licked his lips. 

“Come on, sit up for me.” “No.” “Yeah, come on.”

You moaned and whimpered as he helped you sit up, gasping again when he pulled his hoodie off of you. 

“Bucky.” “I know, baby. I know.” “I don’t feel good.”

Bucky nodded, then sighed. 

“This is probably going to suck, but I need you to do this for me, okay?”

You just stared at him, and he slid an ice pack covered in a dish towel under your arm. You shook your head, trying to move away, but Bucky gently caressed your face. 

“I know, Pidge. I know. Just for a little while. I’ve got to get your fever down, okay?” “Buck—“ “It’s this or the ER, and I don’t want to have to take you there, okay?"

You whimpered, moaning again when he put another ice pack under your other arm. You gave a pitiful whine and Bucky dragged a hand down his face. 

“I don’t even know if this will fucking work. Damn Google, but this was the only thing I could try. Maybe a bath? But you would be miserable in lukewarm water.”

He blew out a breath, going still and turning to look at you when your hand touched his. He gave you a smile, reaching to brush your hair away from your face. 

“You’re okay. I’m right here.” “Don’t go.” “Not a chance.”

You nodded, eyes heavy. Bucky picked the rag up from your forehead, turning it to the cool side before placing it back on you. You gave a shaky breath, but closed your eyes, linking your fingers with his as you drifted back to sleep.

Bucky shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment. Sam’s fever was at 100, Natasha’s at 101, but they both took the medicine he gave them with minimal fuss, falling asleep almost immediately after finishing the glasses of water he’d all but forced down their throats. 

He went to the kitchen and dropped off the empty glasses, washing his hands and just standing there for a moment. He looked at the clock on the stove, then made his way back to his room, where you were sleeping, a smile coming to his lips when he found you with the covers kicked off. 

“Thought you were freezing even after I took the ice packs.”

You sighed in your sleep and he shook his head, gathering the blankets and pulling them over you, reaching to push your sweaty hair off your face. 

Wait. 

He laid a hand against your forehead, your skin warm, but nowhere near as scorching as it had been. He fumbled for the thermometer and brought it to your lips, slipping it under your tongue without you waking. It beeped and he pulled it from your lips, nearly shouting with relief when he saw the 101. 

“Thank God, Pidge. Oh, thank God.”

He put his head in his hand, using the other to cradle your face, sparks flying in his heart when you leaned into his touch. 

The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was that you didn’t feel quite as bad as you had the past few days. You definitely weren’t ready to run any marathons, but you thought you could manage walking down the hall to the kitchen. As soon as you attempted to move out of Bucky’s hold, he was awake. 

“What is it, Pidge? What do you need?” “No, I … I’m okay.”

Bucky sniffled, running a hand over his scruffy face.

“Let me grab your meds.” “Hey, Bucky.”

He turned his head to look at you, eyes widening as he turned his body towards yours. 

“Hey. Your eyes look clear.”

You closed your eyes when he reached out a hand, gently pressing it against your forehead. 

“Oh my God.”

He rolled to grab the thermometer off his nightstand and you automatically opened your mouth at his silent prompt. When the thermometer beeped, Bucky took it out of your mouth and looked down at it, a laugh escaping his lips. 

“Holy shit, Pidge. Your fever’s gone.”

He laughed again, reaching to take your face in his hands and bringing you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead. He laughed again, gathering you into his arms and pulling you close. 

“Thank God. Thank God, Pidge, fuck.”

You smiled as you snuggled close to him, putting your nose in his neck. Bucky sighed, hand gently moving up and down your back. 

“You scared the shit out of me, Pidge. Don’t do that again.” “I’m sorry.”

He sighed again, shaking his head. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. How are you feeling?” “Better. Still kind of wonky, but much better than the last few days.”

Bucky nodded. 

“You hungry?”

You wrinkled your nose. 

“Not really.” “How about some toast? We’ll have breakfast and get your strength up and maybe you can try a shower later.” “You trying to tell me something?”

Bucky laughed, giving your arm a squeeze. 

“Never, Pidge. I’m just so happy you’re better.”

You moved the slightest bit closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as he held you just a bit tighter.

PREVIOUS//NEXT

[pidges-lost-robot]

The type of Keith I write, this would be the only time he'd salute, and it'd leave Hunk and Pidge cackling

[i-k-quotes-after-dark]

Matt: So, Keith came back from his 3 month expedition in the outer reaches recently, correct?

What did he think of your new longer hair? He's not the biggest fan of change. *laughs*

Pidge: He loved it actually.

Matt: Oh really?

Pidge: Oh yeah, actually as a matter of fact, he showed me exactly how much he loved it last night. My scalp still kind of hurts though if I'm being honest... not that I'm really complaining.

Matt: *confused*

Matt: *horrified*

Pidge: *cackles evily*

[silentwillowwhisperer]

"Hey Keith! Are you a parking ticket? 'Cuz you're got 'fine' written all over you."

Pidge shook her head. "That is so cliché, Lance," she muttered dissaprovingly.

Keith, however looked plain confused. "What? Do I look like a piece of paper to you? I know I'm pale, but is this a weird way of insulting me?"

Pidge choked on her own spit and cackled. "This is entertainment"

The next day, Lance tried again. "I think there’s something wrong with my phone. Could you try calling it to see if it works?"

Again, all Lance was rewarded with was a glare.

"Are you messing with me? You know we don't have phones out here."

"Oh. Huh, I forgot about that," Lance said to himself.

That night, Keith went through his usual routine to get ready for bed. He then slid under the covers, careful not to mess up the already made bed (because he was too lazy to mess it up and then remake it every morning). He eyelids drooped. Why was Lance acting so weird? Had he been drugged? Maybe Keith would have to ask Coran to give Lance a checkup in the morning...

"PARKING TICKET!" he gasped, bolting upright. (So much for not ruining the bed.) His face turned bright red with embarrassment.

"Damn it."

-------------------------------------------------

Wait I have more:

"I always thought happiness started with an ‘h,’ but it turns out mine starts with ‘u.’"

"That makes absolutely no sense Lance"

"Lance, buddy, it's hopeless."

*Shiro shakes his head in that disappointed dad way*

[haryuusart]

Okay but we just hit 5k hits and 170 kudos on If I Lose Myself.... Like WHAAAATTTT that's crazy thank you to everyone who checked it out and I'm so sorry I haven't posted an update in two months 😭😭 i promise I'll do it.... Soon......

For anyone wanting to check it out, here is If I Lose Myself ✨ and here's a summary:

-

At this point, Keith can’t take it anymore and starts cackling like crazy, his voice slightly raspy. Lance declares it the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. He’s never seen Keith laugh so hard, and it always feels so good knowing he’s the cause, in a good or bad way.

“Can you ever shut up?” Keith manages to utter between snickers.

“I can, I just don’t want to! What are you going to-”

Keith huffs and grabs his face, squeezing his cheeks to stop him from talking.

“Lance, close your fucking mouth and kiss me!”

Keith is a pianist haunted by dark thoughts and an even darker past. He attends Altea's Music Academy, but has never performed in public before; that is until his brother Shiro, who's a piano teacher, decides to promote the school with concerts at the Paladin's, the trendiest pub in town. His colleagues and friends, Pidge and Hunk, are excited: he can finally meet their best friend, Lance!

Their first encounter is… not good.

No one expects Keith and Lance to fall in love at first sight. Not even them.

(They also dance Single Ladies together. You're welcome!)

-

[bonkers-4-hatter]

Prince Lotor X Reader - Some More S’mores

“Starlight, what are these called again?” Looking up from the list you were writing, there was Lotor squishing a good sized marshmallow between his fingers with a perplexed look. You chuckled at his intense look as he looked at how the squishy treat would shrink down and then pop back to its full size. 

“Those are called marshmallows, they’re an important part of the s’mores we need for tonight.” He nodded and continued to squish the soft pillowy thing. You enjoyed seeing Lotor so curious about all of the new things that Earth had. After everything that went on, settling back down on Earth and starting to rebuild your lives was the most logical next step. 

Lotor and yourself decided to stay close to the others and with everyone’s help, a new house was built for you both. It was cozy and perfect for you both and for the past few years, things were finally getting back to normal. This year was exciting because everyone in town was going back to doing traditional Holiday activities now that there was peace of mind.

The team was excited to have some normal fun for once and part of that fun was s’mores! You invited the whole team over to your guys’ place to catch up and have some s’mores. It was nearing the start of October and you thought this would be a good way to kick off the start of Halloween season which was something else you had to explain to Lotor and he was excited to celebrate as well especially after you explained the concept of haunted houses and horror movies. 

“Alright, I think we have everything for tonight!” You held up your list with a triumphant smile as Lotor finally popped the marshmallow into his mouth and his face warped into a bit of cringe. Laughing at his facial expression, he swallowed and blanched a bit most likely from how sweet it tasted to him. “Starlight, I adore you, but that ‘s’more’ was too sweet”. You shook your head and tapped your list. “That’s not the s’more hun, that’s a part of the s’more, that’s what will get gooey when put over the fire.” 

“So, it’ll be better once gooey?” You chuckled and nodded. “It’ll be the best thing you ever tasted when it’s all together!” You started making your way to the kitchen to start gathering all the things needed. 

“Best thing I ever tasted? That’s a momentous statement when the best thing I’ve tasted has been your lips, my love.” You could feel your face flush at his words. You swatted him with the list as he let out a deep laugh at your reaction. “Let’s get everything ready, the gang should be here soon.”

—

The cackling of the fire, the woodsy smell and the laughter that rang around the firepit was something you enjoyed, the normalcy of it all brought a smile to your face.

“Then Lance decided he didn’t need to listen to the professionals and now our basement is flooded, so construction’s on hold.” Keith glared at Lance after saying that, who just shrugged and grabbed another marshmallow to roast over the open fire. 

“Look, I thought knocking down that wall was fine, that just means we have more time to figure out what we want to do with the basement.” Keith waved his words off as the group laughed at the usual antics of those two. 

“So (Y/N), how’re things going here?” Pidge asked this as the others chattered happily around you. “Really great actually,” You looked over at Lotor who was mimicking what Hunk was doing with roasting his marshmallow and putting it in between the graham cracker and piece of chocolate that were ready and finally squishing it all together to make the iconic s’more. “Lotor’s been adjusting nicely and we’ve actually been thinking of possibly starting a family.” Pidge smiled at your words. “Well, I know you both will make great parents, I better be the first to know once you do find out.” Laughing, you nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else first.” 

Pidge started to talk to Shiro who was next to her as you enjoyed the atmosphere. Looking back over to Lotor, he was chatting with Hunk as they both enjoyed their s’mores. 

The way that Lotor has changed made you smile. He was more open and willing to do new things and make a life with you here on a planet that was foreign to him and seeing him enjoying a treat that he’s never had before with someone that used to be his enemy just solidified the fact that you made the right choice and you couldn’t wait to see what the rest of your lives had in store.

[ethereance]

Thoughts on an au where Earth also has alchemy but it's kinda like one in fma and Lance did the Human Transmutation?? (I don't think kid!Lance would initially be interested in studying nerd shit alchemy but if it's to bring someone he loves? Then yeah. This guy was in show equivalent of nasa/stem program so he can be a pilot, I believe in him)

Very very very much like where you’re going with this Anon. Because oh boy does this give one the opportunity to test Lance to his limits *insert one evil cackle here.* (As someone who loves fmab, but especially fma03 and what that particular version did with its homunculus, *fma spoilers here* and their relationship with identity, and the identity imposed upon them, the very essence of ‘came back wrong’ this could lead to a horrible no good very bad time for Lance should I start writing anything remotely like this. Which I’ve now begun. Whoops.)

I have many thoughts :))) Probably focused way too much on the fma alchemy part, but brace yourself.

So. Humans have alchemy. Maybe they’re naturally born with this ability, perhaps many years ago ancient Alteans arrived in hiding and brought the practice of alchemy with them. It’s just a thing that’s always existed.

Pidge and Matt are the obvious to go for if you follow the fma storyline. They’re the kid geniuses and honestly that sounds like an interesting fic following the pair of them resurrecting their Dad (or perhaps Pidge trying to and Matt only catches on far too late). But. But. But Lance going f*** it we ball and messing around with those mystic mumbo jumbo dark forces he doesn’t get, learning to understand them because he cannot handle a reality where this dead person isn’t around? Yes please. I write self indulgently.

You get it! Lance got into fighter pilot class because there was a spot, meaning he would probably have been the top of cargo class, and you don’t get there without at least trying. Yeah, he’d call it ‘nerdy’, but this guy will put in the effort if it comes to it, and who’s he fooling, he was very much enjoying himself in that M&m episode.

So, if the situation arises, if he loses someone he cares about, and he’s in a world where the solution is there seemingly in the palm of his hand (human transmutation)? Yeah, he’ll put in the hard work, and wouldn’t think twice about the repercussions on him if it means whoever he’s doing this for will be okay. Is it selfish? Is it selfless? Who can say? Lance cares so much for his family, something happening to them would devastate him, so in this kind of au they’ll probably be at the top of the list of resurrection. So I’m thinking:

-His mother (his family is in shambles and a kid Lance wants things to go back to normal). Totally not ripping off fma with this suggestion.

-Rachel (they’re the closest in age, she has a matching jacket with him/has worn a spare version of his jacket so I’m gonna use what little breadcrumbs I have to presume she’s the sibling closest to him. I also like the probably refuted by canon headcanon of them being twins, and how upon returning to earth those two would deal with this new 3 year age gap between them. The ramifications of that time skip and Lance trying to find his own place in his family again just seems interesting to explore but I digress).

-Veronica (have more of a feel for her personality as opposed to characters like Rachel, Marco, and Luis. And Lance was pretty protective of her, despite Veronica being older than him).

-Hunk (could even go the childhood friends route with them). There’s nothing Lance wouldn’t do for his friends, he values them so much.

-Allura if it’s set around the same time as canon is (I’m an allurancer at heart and can’t help adding her to the list. Besides, allura has healed/resurrected him in canon during omega shield. Lance would want to give back, and would probably rationalise it as something she would do, sacrificing herself for someone else. Mr I can’t imagine this world without you is going to great lengths to get her the heck back, even at the cost of himself aka the fic I’m currently writing now Anon what have you done).

-or to pull plots up from canon, it could be Shiro and this is how Kuron (homunculus Shiro) is born, but I kinda see Keith being the one more likely to pull off the human transmutation for this. Maybe they work together on this? It would mean that Shiro and Lance would have to have a stronger bond than they did in canon, but anything is possible in an au (not that they didn’t have small moments, but they weren’t a focus like Keith and Shiro were).

Of course, it doesn’t go to plan at all. Whatsoever.

To what lengths would he go for sacrifice?

It’s all about that equivalent exchange.

-an arm and a leg because this gives him the perfect coping with humour ™ opportunity to say it only cost him an arm and a leg. Plus, perhaps Lance brought this person back out of guilt, ‘if I had been fast enough—‘. His inaction to save them the first time now leaves him without an arm, or without a leg. Or both (he’s not tethering anyone’s soul to armour here, just depends on how much flesh is taken from him to recreate the deceased’s body). Also, also. It correlates to his two positions on Voltron. The very same arm he was, the very same leg.

Also. It’s about those parallels of being just that little bit more like his hero (Shiro) but knowing that the loss of his arm was self inflicted, making him feel like a false hero, a presense, and he couldn’t feel further away from Shiro. He failed to save this person.

-memories of him in the mind of people he cares about (If you’re feeling super mean).

-His memories of the deceased. Now he wants to know why exactly he risked so much to bring back this unknown person back. What do they mean to him?

-him unknowingly giving up his soul so they can have one. And they’re fine and Lance feels like he was the one who came back wrong ™ there is something missing in him and he doesn’t get it.

And then whoever it is comes back.

They get thrown in a healing pod. Lance probably gets berated by whoever is there (Shiro, his mother, Coran) for doing so reckless, so risky without telling anyone. He knew they’d talk him out of this, but it all worked out right? Right?

But this person isn’t right.

Something about their skin is like a reanimated corpse’. It’s a little too pale. And their eyes are a little too dead. But it can all go by the wayside, they can ignore it. Being gone for so long can’t have been easy.

Said person resents who Lance made them be.

He didn’t bring them back at all.

And so we go the route of them having been brought back but is it really them? Or someone else who has been left with Lance’s memory of who they’re meant to be?

A small part of this person cares for Lance as they did, as a son/friend/sibling/significant other, and they hate that.

Maybe they require quintessence to keep them alive. And oh no. Not this again.

Just. Lance learning alchemy for the purpose of saving someone only he doesn’t save them at all. He risks it all to create a person that never asked to exist, that never asked to be who he wants them to be.

He didn’t make them right.

[dewi205]

Keith HC

Keith’s propensity to punch first and ask questions later can create such interesting backstories.

What if Keith used to play vigilante on days he’s kicked out of his foster homes? Like on a midnight walk he comes across a drunk attempting to sexually harass someone and his first instinct is to knock the person out. Conveniently he had his hood up and it was dark enough that no one saw his face other than the purple glare of his eyes. The only words anyone has ever heard this mysterious vigilante say is “report the situation to the police”. And Keith just strolls back into the foster home. He is seen as a delinquent because he gets into street fights to protect small or vulnerable things like children and animals, women and sometimes men.

He ended up saving so many randos that there’s a legit reddit thread on him. He even saved one of Lances siblings once (and the story then became embellished af) so the entire family essentially fanboys Keith.

Now, see, Keith definitely does not have the time nor desire to deal with social media so he never heard about the stories and conspiracy theories revolving around him. Not even Shiro knew.

It was discovered when they were doing team building activities in the castle though. They were, idk, doing mind-melds or something with the prompt “when you did something nice for others”. And Keith’s vision was of him beating the living sh*t out of a rap*st and then politely asking the victim if they wanted to get a hit in. Which yes, they did. He was majorly gentlemanly to the victim too, escorting them calmly to the prone body and then bought them like a nice drink from a cafe then escorted them home.

Everyone came out of the mind-meld dumbfounded. Lance was blue screening considering that was one of the most famous stories of Keith vigi-sona. Hunk and Pidge was also shocked bc obviously Lance would rant about how cool the mysterious man was during their Garrison days. Allura didn’t know whether to be proud of her paladins chivalry or exasperated that he went so far. Shiro sat there in his crisscross applesauce position silently looking down in a failing attempt not to cackle. Keith was looking around like a confused bb, with the slight head tilt and everything.

Then when Shiro finally broke and started to laugh, Lance began to splutter and Team Punk laughed at him. Keith still sat there confused until Pidge managed to get a coherent sentence out of her mouth.

Even post-war the fact that Lance fanboyed Keith is held over Lances head at every opportunity by all of the paladins.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Oh, I love spring.” Lance’s voice is soft, breathy, sighing. He veers off the path, heading towards one of the campus’ many gardens. “Everything’s just so hopeful, y’know? And the hills — they get coated in little springs of gold. It’s beautiful.”

“It snowed yesterday,” Keith deadpans, but joins Lance in looking at the blooming flowers anyway.

Lance rolls his dark eyes at him fondly. “For, like, twenty seconds!”

“Snow, Lance. In April. Disgusting.”

“Yeah, yeah, party pooper.” He leans in close to a yellow pansy, inhaling deeply. The slightest of smiles pulls at his lips, long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes close in serenity. Freckles sprinkle over his nose and cheekbones, darker now that the sun is starting to shine brighter.

Keith has to shake himself out of staring like a fool. Even then it’s no easy feat — Lance is ethereal, in the spring sunshine, surrounded by budding flowers and melting snow.

Keith clears his throat, ears a little red. “I thought you were more of a summer person,” he says, a little loudly, a little telling.

“I do love the summer, Lance agrees, inhaling one more time before straightening up. He turns the full power of his smile towards Keith — Lord help him — and takes a step away from the garden. “But there’s just something about the flowers, I guess. Something about so many colours finally blooming after the endless grey of winter, y’know?”

Keith snorts. “Right, Shakespeare.”

“I’m going to take that as the compliment it is, you butthead. Ready to head out?”

“Yeah.” Keith pauses, glancing back at the flowers. He thinks of Lance’s soft look as he smelled them. He thinks of how badly he wants to see Lance look like that again. “Why don’t you bring a couple flowers back to your dorm?”

Lance glances back at the flowers. For a minute Keith thinks he’s going to pick a couple, but then he’s shaking his head. “Nah.” He chuckles a little, scratching the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “It’s stupid, but I get genuinely upset when flowers die? I used to pick them all the time as a kid and then cry when they started to droop. I never really grew out of it, I guess. Embarrassing, huh?”

Oh my God, that is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Keith thinks, screaming internally.

“A little,” Keith teases instead. Lance gasps exaggeratedly, clasping his hand to his heart in mock offense.

“Why, I never!”

The two of them joke and tease their way to the dining hall, only getting worse as they meet up with the rest of their friends. They devolve into ridiculous chaos almost immediately, as they usually do — Pidge barely catches sight of Lance before she starts some ridiculous argument over the dorky video game they’re both obsessed with, and then the rest of them choose sides just for the drama of it all — but honestly? Keith’s heart’s not in it. All he can think of is Lance’s slight smile as he smelled the flower, and the barest hint of sadness Keith saw flash through his dark brown eyes when he stepped away from them.

Keith is going to get Lance his flowers, and flowers that won’t die on him. He will.

Anything to get that smile on his face again.

———

“Keith, it’s four in the goddamn morning.”

“Allura if you help me I’ll get you those caf cookies you like every day for a month.”

That gives her pause. “The coffee caramel one? That’s always gone before I get up?”

“Yep,” Keith says, grinning despite his frustration. Got her. Allura would do anything short of human sacrifice to get those cookies.

“…Make it two months.”

“What?” Keith protests immediately. “That’s sixty whole days!”

“I’m getting more and more tired by the second, Gyeong.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus. You’ll get your cookie, you tyrant.”

She hums. There’s a creaking noise in the background, like she’s shuffling around, then the unmistakable sound of a thump and muffled cursing.

Keith shoves his knuckles into his mouth to keep from cackling. “Did you fall, you dumbass?”

“Fuck off. Mention it again and the deal is off.”

“Alright, alright,” Keith says,holding up his hands in surrender even though she can’t see it. (One can never be too sure with Allura. Sometimes it’s like she’s a fuckin’ witch, or something. She knows all.)

“Anyways, dorkus. Why’d you call me in the dead of the fucking night?”

Keith sobers quickly, frustration building back up when he catches a glance at his supplies. He takes a deep breath. “So, you know how you’re an art major?”

There’s a beat of incredulous silence. Keith can feel her judgey look through the phone.

“No, that’s news to me, actually. Must have missed that memo on my way to class this morning.”

“Oh, piss off. You know what I meant.”

She snorts, but answers anyway. “Yes, Keith. I am aware that I’m an art major. I take it to mean you need some artistic advice?”

“Yeah,” Keith confirms. He holds up one of the canvases he’s been working on, frowning deeply. “So, I have this…project. I need to paint a really, really good — almost perfect, honestly — picture of a flower. No, a bouquet of flowers. Yeah. And —”

“You,” Allura interrupts slowly, “a physics major.”

There’s a long moment of silence — incredulous on Allura’s end, panicked on Keith’s.

“You need to paint a flower? For a grade?”

“I’m…applying the physical sciences of viscous fluids acting upon a dry powdered surface such as canvas,” Keith lies hastily. “Yeah. Lots of science in painting, you know.”

That’s a pretty decent excuse, if Keith says so himself. And he does! He’s found that if he just throws out enough science words into one sentence, and uses the words ‘acting upon’ at least once, then people usually just go along with it. It has yet to fail on him before, at least.

“This is about Lance, isn’t it.”

Of fucking course Allura’s annoyingly smart ass can see right through him.

Keith scoffs. And then he scoffs again, and again, and every time it sounds just a touch more hysterical. “Ha! I don’t — ha! How ridiculous! Me, painting a picture of a flower for Lance, because he gets sad when cut flowers die! I would never — preposterous! Outlandish! Unbelievable, even! I —”

“You just let me know when you’re done,” Allura drawls.

Keith sputters. “I — you! What!”

“Look,” she says, faux-gently. “Please take full offense to this.”

“I probably will,” Keith grumbles. Allura has no problem plowing right on.

“There is not a soul on this campus who isn’t well aware that you are atrociously down bad for Lance.”

“I — yes there is! That’s fuckin’ — private information! How do you know that?!”

“You look at him like he’s the sun, dude. It’s as sweet as it is sickening, truly.”

Keith wants to fight that. He does. He’s kept his feelings for Lance under lock and key, thanks. Allura is talking out of her ass.

But then he looks down at his canvas and half-finished painting, and —

Oh.

Well.

“…Okay,” Keith admits, cheeks flaming. “So I get a little moon-eyed occasionally. Can you blame me?”

Allura chuckles. “No. Lance is cute as hell. You’re lucky I’m a lesbian or you would have some serious competition with that boy, let me tell you.”

“Thank Thor for that, then.”

“Damn right. Anyway. Details, Horatio. You’re painting him a flower?”

Keith sighs. He knows it’s incriminating as hell, but he truly can’t help himself. “Yeah. We were looking at flowers a couple days ago, and he was just so happy to see them, y’know? I suggested he should bring a couple back to his dorm but he said he got sad when they died, so. I’m painting him some that won’t die.”

“That is the gayest damn thing I’ve ever heard.”

Keith flushes. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. Can you help me or not?”

“Well, I won’t be painting it for you.”

“I know that! I just — I don’t know what I’m doing, ‘Llura. How the hell do I shape it right? What’s the deal with shading? How come half the colours look smudgy and brush hairs keep getting stuck in the paint? What —”

“Alright, deep breath,” Allura interjects. Keith listens. “Good.” Her voice softens. “He’s gonna love it, y’know? He loves you just as much as you love him — and don’t give me that ‘what if he doesn’t like me back’ shit,” she scolds, before he can protest. “Okay? He’s one of your closest friends. He’s going to appreciate the gesture regardless.”

“I know,” Keith says, exhaling deeply. “I know. But still. Help me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you.”

———

Keith takes a deep breath, glancing down at the gift bag he’s holding. It’s not too late, really. He can ding dong ditch. That way Lance can get the painting — and the stupid sappy letter Keith wrote him — and Keith can avoid the whole mortifying ordeal of being known or whatever.

Yeah. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. He can confess his undying love another time, right? Lance doesn’t need to know now. Keith can suffer in silence. He’s gone this far —

“Keith! Hi! I tried to wait for you to know but you took too long. Come in!”

Lance beams at him, dorm room door opened wide, stepping to the side to usher Keith in.

Curse him and his stupid bat ears. Of course he heard Keith’s heartbeat through the door, or something.

“Hey, Lance.” He accepts Lance hug, squeezing tightly and inhaling smell of sunscreen and lavender.

The smell makes him brave, makes him bold.

“I, uh, I brought you something.”

Lance’s grin only gets wider. “I was hoping that was for me.” He makes grabby hands towards the bag. “Gimme!”

It will be fine, it will be fine, it will be fine, Keith chants to himself as Lance tosses the decorative paper — ‘decorative paper’ being old homework because Keith has no idea where the hell he’s supposed to buy fancy gift paper — behind him, digging into the bag. He stills as he pulls out the canvas. He’s absolutely silent as he looks at it, face completely blank.

Keith cracks.

“I know it’s kind of ugly. I mean, I tried, and Allura tried to help, but I’m kind of a hopeless painter —”

Lance still makes no face, long fingers just tracing the bulky painting.

“— I tried to use your favourite colours! The blue and the red and the purple —”

Lance makes a choked noise. Keith can’t tell if it’s good or not; and it makes him a great deal more frantic.

“—peonies are your favourite, right? And you like dandelions too so I thought —”

“Keith,” Lance finally says, hoarse and quiet. “I —”

“There’s a letter, too, and — oh.” The letter is clasped tightly in Lance’s hand. “You’ve already read it. Cool. Awesome. It’s —”

“Keith —”

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal, right? I mean —”

“Keith —”

Keith forces himself to breathe properly. He is not successful. He’s not quite hyperventilating, but by God he is on his way.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll just dip and you text me whenever —”

“Keith!” Lance shouts. “I’m going to kiss you now. On the mouth.”

By the time that sentence registers in Keith’s brain, sunshine and lavender overwhelms his senses, soft, smooth lips pressed insistently to his. Lance’s cool fingers press the sides of his neck, a gentle but insistent pressure.

“Oh,” Keith breathes.

“I love you too, dumbass,” Lance whispers against his lips. “God I love you.“

“That’s — okay.”

He feels Lance’s smile.

Because it is pressed. Against his lips.

Holy shit.

“That’s okay?“ “Yeah. Yeah. I — love you too. Lots.”

Lance laughs. “Enough to hand paint me flowers that will never die.” He presses another kiss to Keith’s lips.

It feels like springtime.

———

based on this post

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

Coran getting hurt / being held hostage and Lance's going absolutely feral?? 👀

The inhuman noise i made when I saw this

Authors Note: 

I have a headcanon where bayard will also change if their paladin is under intense emotions (usually negative) so Lance may or may not get a new weapon 

-----

“We have to go get him!” Lance slammed his hand on the table, not caring how the others reacted to his outburst. For the past ten minutes, he has been silent, listening to everyone bicker back and forth. Listening to them argue about the best plan, who should do what, what should be done, etc. He couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“Easy Lance, we aren’t going to leave him there.” Shiro’s confident voice filled the room and Lance fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

Lance knew his place. He knew how to sit in silence, nod a bit and get into position when asked. But right now? Coran was captured and every second they spent “figuring” out a plan was another second Coran was getting tortured or being moved somewhere else. 

“I know that but we can’t just keep sitting here!” he crossed his arms, tapping his foot rapidly on the floor. Blue was trying to calm him from where she sat in her hanger but he pushed her aside. He didn’t want to be calm, he wanted Coran back. 

“Lance, we don’t know where he was taken. We can’t just go blow up every Galran ship we see.” Allura tried to rationalize with him. 

“Yeah...whatever.” 

“Incoming Message!” The castle voiced as a video call waiting to be answered. 

Allura swore under her breath and answered the call, Sendek waiting on the other side. 

“Princess Allura.” He smirk as he spoke. 

“Sendek.” She spits his name out like it was acid. “What do you want?” 

Sendek released a low laugh, “I want to discuss a trade. We hand your Altean and you hand over Voltron. Easy and fair trade.” 

Allura clenched her jaw, glancing at Pidge who was typing vigorously on their laptop. “Something tells me you won’t hold up your end of the bargain.” 

Sendek laughed again, clearly having fun dangling their team member in front of them. “Suit yourself.” He ended the call, leaving the bridge silent. 

Nobody knew what to say, was anyone even breathing? 

“Got it!” Pidge finally spoke, “I got Sendek's ship location. Uploading them to our lions now.” 

“Alright paladins, get to your lions, we’ll discuss the plan as we fly.” 

Lance had already left the bridge by the time Shiro finished his sentence. 

---

Lance landed his lion, unbuckling himself before she had even lowered herself for him to exit. He gripped his bayard tightly, immediately letting it shift into its rifle form. He could hear the team talking through the coms but he only had two thoughts cycling through his head. 

1. Save Coran 

2. Take down anything or anyone that get’s in his way 

Keith joined him as he left his lion, running a bit to catch up to him. “Lance, don’t rush. Getting spotted will only make the mission harder.” 

Lance didn’t respond, he just gripped his rifle tighter and chewed on his inner cheek. They moved quickly, but not quick enough for Lance. Keith had to keep pulling him back some, glaring at him each time he got ahead of each other.

He could feel the anger rolling off his fellow red paladin but for once he didn't care. He had to witness everyone on the team have their own intensity regarding something they were passionate about. Lance was just having his moment.

"Did you two see anything?" Shiro asked as they came to a skidding halt in front of the other three.

"No, not even a sentry," Keith dropped his hold on Lance; keeping him in his field of vision; ready to grab him at any moment.

"Same here," Pidge said.

"It's too quiet, right guys? Like a Galran ship would be filled with...you know Galrans!" Hunk began to blubber his anxiety, his helmet preventing him from chewing on his nails.

Lance tuned everyone out, the longer they stood here the more time they kept wasting.

A familiar voice cackled over the ship's coms, making everyone's blood go cold. "Paladins! Did you really think we didn't know you were tracking my ship the last time we chatted? We have your Altean here, and you are all completely surrounded."

Right on cue the hallways filled with sentries, all pointing their guns directly at the group of paladins. They fell for his trap. They brought him the lions and they were grouped together.

"Paladins! Please leave. Forget about m-" Coran's voice was cut off as he tried to send them away. A loud blood-curdling screaming filled the coms before they were shut off.

"Shit!" Keith took a fighting stance, the others following suit.

"Princess, we're in a bit of a bind here!" Shiro said as he activated his arm.

"I am too," her voice was a bit tense and there was a vague sound of lasers hitting the particle barrier of the ship. "Once I clear this fleet I'm coming to get you."

Lance vibrated with anger, Coran's scream replaying in his mind. He still hadn't raised his weapon to shoot, he hadn't joined their fighting stance. He stood still, hardly breathing as his mind tried to understand what was going on.

"Lance get in position!" Shiro barked out.

He glanced down at his gun, his finger resting on the trigger. He was shaking slightly, was he scared? No. Overwhelmed? Not that either.

He looked up at the sentries in front of him. Coran had to be on the bridge, that would make the most sense. Pidge and Hunk checked the holding cells before they regroup. No one checked the bridge.

"Lance! Snap out of it!" Keith grumbled as the sentries began to inch closer to them. Their mission was obviously to capture them since they hadn't opened fire yet.

Lance blinked, Coran was on the bridge. He lifted his rifle; Coran was on the bridge.

He fired the first shot, he didn't wait for the command, he simply did what he knew he could do. He aimed and fired.

The sentries moved at once and the battle began. Shots rang off the metal of the ship, the vague sound of swords moving through the air, and the low hum of Shiro's arm. Lance tuned them all out, he was unconfused on his team.

The more sentries he took down, the fast he could head to the bridge. And that's exactly what he did. He cleared his area quicker than the rest of his team; pushing his legs forward and running down the hallway; leaving his team.

"Lance! What are you doing!" Shiro borderline yelled at him over the comms.

Lance briefly felt a pang of guilt in his chest but it was quickly pushed aside. "Getting Coran, head back to your lions when you're done."

"Since when do you give the orders!" Keith said and Lance flipped his comms off. He knew he would get an earful later but all that mattered was getting Coran.

He kept his rifle up as he moved, shooting down every enemy that crossed his path. Some were Galran, but most were sentries.

He turned down another hallway, coming face to face with a group of soldiers. "Well, well, looks like the blue one came out to play with us." One of the Galrans said with a malicious smile.

"No, I'm here to kill you."

The Galran's laughed, and began to move at the paladin. Lance held his stance, opening fire on the soldiers in front of them. He rolled out of the way of some attacks, keeping his finger on the trigger at all times.

He felt his bayard buzz with energy, a feeling he only felt when he was in his lion and they formed Voltron. What the? His weapon began to shift, splitting in two as it changed.

Two pistols fell into his hands, it mimicked his rifle's color of white and blue. They fit perfectly in hands, almost naturally.

He lifted his new weapon up, and opened fire at the remaining soldiers, quickly dropping them. These bullets seemed a bit more powerful than his rifle or maybe he was able to hit them in quick succession. Whatever the reason, the hallway was silent, a faint smell of copper and smoke filling his lungs.

He walked over to the door they were guarding, stepping over dead bodies as he moved.

He pushed the door open, revealing the bridge of the ship. Sendek stared at him, a small smile on his face. There were a couple more soldiers on the bridge and behind him was who Lance was looking for.

Coran.

He was bound to a chair, his face dripping blood slightly from an injury Lance couldn't see. He looked pale and his breathing was labored. Lance couldn't tell if he was conscious.

“Bravo Blue Paladin, I would have never expected you to go that far to get your friend back.” 

“You underestimated me.” Lance stared at Coran, watching his chest move up and down; shallow. He could tell he was in pain, he didn’t want to know the internal damages he was facing. 

“Well, as much as it was fun watching you tear my soldiers down, your trip does stop here.” With that, the soldiers lunged at Lance. 

Lance stepped back some, lifting up his pistols. He aimed, dropping the Galran quickly. 

Sendek snarled, activating his own arm as he took another step toward Lance. 

Lance tightened his hold around the grip of his guns. Sendek lurched at him, using his arm to try and swipe him off his feet. Lance jumped up, letting himself roll to the side to buffer his fall. 

He propped himself up on one knee, opening fire at Sendek who stumbled back some. He took the moment to look at Coran, his head still slumped. He needed to get him out of here. 

Sendek moved to slam his arm down on top of him and Lance roll out of his way again. Sendek anticipated this move and managed to grab his leg with his other arm. He pulled him back, tossing him into a control panel a couple of feet away. 

Lance’s vision swam and he tried to stand up as fast as he could. He blinked away the dizziness, preparing himself for Sendek's next move; but it never came. 

He stood where Coran was, holding the older man up by the back of his shirt. “I could just kill him.” 

“PUT HIM DOWN!” Lance lifted his weapons. 

Sendek laughed, lifting Coran up some, “you humans get too attached to others.” 

Lance forced himself to stand, ignoring the ache in his head. Save Coran, save Coran, save Coran. The words repeated themselves like a mantra, the only coherent thoughts in his head. 

He knew he couldn’t take Sendek down, maybe if the rest of the team was here he could but he was at a disadvantage. He looked around the bridge, trying to find something that could guarantee Coran’s safety. 

Sendek said something that fell on deaf ears, his heart was beating too loud for him to concentrate. He needed to get Coran away from him. If he could manage that they could get to Blue and leave. 

Sendek lifted Coran higher, Lance wasn’t sure what his next move was so he tried to prepare himself for anything. Lance began to shoot at Sendek, trying to hit him low when he saw his first opening. There was a pipe above Sendek. 

Lance wasn’t sure if whatever was moving through it was flammable but he was about to find out. He aimed his left hand at the pipe and fired. White smoke came rushing out of the pipe and Lance rushed at Sendek; slamming into him with his body. Sendek screamed as he stumbled back, Coran falling with him. 

Lance held his breath as he moved, and reached for the older man through the smoke. He yanked him up, letting him fall behind him some; he would apologize for the roughness later. 

His bayard switched back to his rifle and he held it with one hand; taking a few more shots at Sendek. Who was still trying to stand up. 

Lance grabbed Coran’s arm, and pulled him close to him, wrapping his free arm around his waist. 

He did his best to run out of the room, trying to ignore the groan of pain Coran released at the movements. 

“It’ll be okay soon, I got you.” 

He switched his coms back on, “I have Coran.” 

His team immediately started shouting at him, asking him where he was, and what happened, telling him to not run off again. Lance focused on getting back to Blue. He could hear her moving through the ship; she was trying to get closer to her paladin. 

They made it back to his lion with minimal issues; only a couple of sentries firing at them. Lance quickly took them down. 

He placed Coran down on the bench in the back of his lion and slid into the cockpit. They made it back to the castle quickly; Allura met them in the hangar to help him move Coran to a pod. 

“He’ll be okay Lance,” Shiro placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder. 

Lance didn’t look at him, his eyes staring at his friend in the pod. Someone that was his family now. “Sorry for leaving everyone I just...I needed to save him.” 

Shiro nodded, “I understand. We can discuss it later. Go clean up.” 

Lance nodded but remained in the same spot; watching Coran. 

-----

Hehehe don’t touch Coran 

I hope I did this idea justice 

Thank you for reading <33333