#admittedly it's basic calculations but i was still muttering 'all those high school classes for this' as i wrote this xD

[iristial]

Recording some Ace’s true origins speculation before they drop the revelation bomb in my lap, which I don’t need to go insane because I already have

An old soul

- As a child Ace was given a coin with Julius Caesar on it by Mitsume. He last sees her dressed in robes stereotypically associated to ancient times before entering a (presumably) ancient building

- In the first arc Ace often quipped about past events/historical figures and how things in the DGP have been like this for a long time

- Claimed he’s been fighting since 1 A.D. Either his guaranteed entry in the DGP gives him immortality, he’s of a long-lived species, he’s participated since the games’ conception, or a DGP round took place in 1 A.D. and Ace somehow followed it there

...or not?

- He mentions a previous DGP round involving the cactus Jyamato had wiped out all the players, an entire area and its inhabitants. However, it’s set in modern-day Japan, and Ace states this occurred prior to him joining

- We never see what clothing he’s wearing when Mitsume left him. The same goes for when he wrote his true wish but the Desire Card rejected it

- There’s a 2008 elementary school entrance photo of him with a completely different mother (Mika Ukiyo) and father

- Gene/Ziin/Jean’s admiration started when he first watched Ace fight the Jyamato as a modern-day high schooler. He’s went as far as to dig up Ace’s history and discovered said photo

- Mitsume’s a former DGP navigator - and Tsumuri plus the executives are from the distant future, not the past. Speaking of which, said staff never knew she had a son and that’s what gets them to change up the game’s format, in hopes of Ace slipping up

- Who says you need to be over two thousand years old to talk about the Sengoku period and quote Greek philosophers as times gone by? Basically Ace is a history geek lol

- Neon’s father is a previous DGP winner. His prize? A child aka Neon. While we don’t know if he never had a child to begin with or the original Neon died during the kidnapping + he sought a “replacement”, that places his participation somewhere between 10~18 years ago (as of 2022; 2004-12). Ace's confirmed to have never lost one of his entries before Girori’s sabotage. This also implies former champions become DGP sponsors who fund the game and provide media play, should the DGP setting fall into their lifetime

- Going back to high school - Ace (“b. 2001″) first became a DGP participant at 16~18 years old (2017-19). He’s currently 21 (as of 2022), so he’s been fighting for the last 3~5 years. In episode 10 we see Tsumuri with four fulfilled Desire Cards:

Guaranteed entry until he dies (est. 2017-21)

No need to work and earn money (est. 2018-21; he dropped out or graduated)

Become the Star of the Stars of the Stars (est. late winter - Sept. 2022)

Playing family with the DGP staff (est. Sept. - Oct. 2022)

- The Sakurai siblings’ parents died in a DGP round when Sara was in high school, yet they weren’t revived. Either because they were eliminated DGP players or NPCs within a now erased area aka the previous cactus Jyamato game. And if Sara’s born in 1998 like her actress - making her two years older than Keiwa (22) (b. 2000) - she would’ve been in high school during 2014-16; placing this event before Ace joined

Other ramblings

- Considering how much influence DGP supporters have, perhaps NPCs who catch the audience’s eye are invited into the next game. Given how meticulous, intuitive and sharp Ace tends to be, I wouldn’t be surprised if he approached the Jyamato specifically to get someone’s attention. Even if he doesn’t know about his mother being a goddess, surely he knows a few tidbits

- The last few DGPs have happened consecutively, but it isn’t impossible for the DGP show to go on “hiatus” + Ace wanders around for a while

- Going by the Dawn DGP’s length and Ace’s 1 A.D. claims, each game takes an average six months to complete, two per year; a total of 4044 games. If going by Encounter and Scheme - roughly two months, six per year - he’s completed 12 132 games. But we’ve seen less than four fulfilled Desire Cards, and why would it take that long to test the prize’s limits? At that point he might as well live out his life with friends and figure out the existential crisis himself

What if he’s selective in the games he participates? His first wish was to always be given an invite to the DGP + he’s set up countermeasures in case he loses

What if each game has varying time periods to complete? No word on that. Also, as boring as the supporters claim the distant future is, I doubt most audiences would watch a reality television season lasting several years. At least I wouldn’t

What if his win streak isn’t what it is? Niram confirmed Ace has been unbeatable since his entry

What if Ace traveled across time, seeing how DGPs take place in different eras? The staff would get suspicious as there’s only so many identical strangers and descendants/ancestors you can encounter. Unless being trapped in the DGP, regardless of where you’re from, makes that commonplace. Plus we’re talking about the same staff who had a bored, sadistic high schooler hijack their television series despite confirming she isn’t the first to attempt this, but I digress

- Some off-topic timeline stuff: Michinaga (b. 2001) and Tohru have been friends since high school, maybe longer. The latter was 20 years old when he died; placing his participation in 2021, roughly during Ace’s second DGP. So Michinaga’s first DGP would’ve been the Dawn round in 2022, age 21

Actual Ace’s true origin theories, ranging from debunked to logical to pure nonsense but it’s fun to think about

- Ace was an archaeologist who unearthed the DGP and broke its seal several centuries/decades ago. He’s trapped in the game, hence his eternal youth, and watched his co-workers despair/get destroyed for the DGP staff’s entertainment. Even when he tried wishing for the game’s destruction, his Card got rejected, so he fights back by testing the system’s limits + winning as fast as possible to prevent more lives from being lost. He’s memorized every possible setting, Jyamato tactic, etc. and is a walking DGP manual

- Ace and a certain town have been stuck in a DGP-inflicted time loop. He met Keiwa and Neon in the past and forged a connection, but they’ve forgotten about him

- Our Ace is a highly evolved Jyamato born from original Ace Ukiyo soil during Mitsume’s navigator tenure. If they can recruit grandpas in a death game, then children aren’t out of the question. While he’s not meant to exist, Mitsume took pity on him and raised him in secret; thus he considers her his mother. Eventually she had to leave him behind in an unknown time period, and so he grew up, waiting for her return. Fighting in the DGP partially quells his species’ innate bloodlust + it explains his existential crisis

- Mitsume’s the Goddess of Creation who created Ace through the future’s advanced eugenics technology or her powers. If the latter, the staff considered the personal use as a violation and resolved to strip her of autonomy. They also implemented security measures like requiring supporter and Producer approval for wishes. This also means Ace was born in the future + his remarks about things long past would still hold ground. But before the staff punished her, Mitsume left Ace in the hands of a modern-day family. There he grew up while waiting for the DGP to use “his” era as the current setting again

[ddproductionsw77]

The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love

Fandom: Girl Meets World

Pairing(s): Riarkle (enemies to hinting at romance?)

Characters: Riley Matthews, Farkle Minkus, Maya Hart

Prompt from riarklespirfire: Funny story actually… I kinda lost the prompt, lolz, but it was along the lines of ’We hate each other but now we’re project partners so I guess we’ll just have to not kill each other’, AU (obviously)

Author’s Note: So, I am still taking Riarkle/GMW prompts for short stories if you like this one… I honestly did not plan for this to get so long and crazy, I just loved writing this version of Riley and Farkle. It just got to the point where I had to end it somewhere, so I did. However, if you really want, I am thinking a part 2 might be in the future. Let me know if anyone would want/read that…

“Well, it appears the sun has risen once again on our blessed Abigail Adams, my young chemists. Good morning and welcome back from your last Spring Break!”

Riley Matthews felt the familiar sharp stab of a bony elbow her side and turned to her best friend with an exaggerated look, eyebrows raised in questioning.

Maya Hart, beautiful, blonde, and bold, quirked one of her own dainty eyebrows and muttered, “Is he for real?”

Dropping her expression to an endearing smile, Riley rolled her eyes and pointed to the front with her pencil, “Pay attention.”

“-Last project of your high school chemistry careers.” Mr. Hudson was introducing, to be met with a round of cheers from the chunk of Senior class residing at their desks.

Waving, the elder man silenced the crowd, “Please, hold your applause until the end. Now, this last project obviously has to be something to stick in your minds and motivate you all to pursue chemistry in college!”

“Neeever gonna happen,” Maya mumbled for only Riley, resting her chin on her palm and leaning forward.

The brunette bit back a smile and shook her head.

Mr. Hudson continued, “So, I’m gonna let you blow something up.”

Again, the class erupted into cheers and even Maya sat up straight, a smirk playing at her lips.

“Yes, yes! You and a partner will be designing, creating, and lastly igniting your own fireworks.” The teacher barely managed to call across the room of giddy students.

Instinctually, Riley and Maya knotted their arms together. No one around them even glanced over to ask for a team up. Riley Matthews and Maya Hart were only ever not partners when they were forced to go without. It went without saying that this project would be no exception.

…Until Mr. Hudson spoke next.

“Now, everyone get up and sit in alphabetical order by the last name. Whoever you end up next to, you will be spending the rest of the school year with.”

Riley’s heart stuttered, her smile sliding from her face.

No, no, no! Please, God, no!

Maya whirled around to look at her, wide-eyed as everyone else began to move around the classroom. She knew exactly why her best friend was still sitting on her original stool, frozen. She knew and yet she still looked slightly…amused?

Traitor!

“Ms. Matthews?”

Swallowing, Riley turned to see Mr. Hudson standing beside her (well, she guessed, not anymore) desk.

“Yes?” She squeaked out.

“Is there a problem?”

“…No?”

“Ah, good! Then, I think you’ll find your new seat is over there.” He pointed to a desk a few rows behind Riley. Slowly, the girl turned on her stool to follow the path of his finger.

There, exactly two tables back and one to the left sat a desk with only one boy currently occupying it.

The boy was sitting up, his posture as rigid and awkward as Riley imagined her own was at that moment, and he was fidgeting with the pencil in his hands, whirling it around his long digits expertly.

Farkle fucking Minkus.

His lighter brown hair was styled up in that annoyingly attractive spiked-up way that made it incredibly easy to get a good look at those electric blue eyes. Electric blue eyes that were currently boring back at Riley, cold and calculating and so damn intense.

God, does he always have to look like he’s plotting my murder?

Turning back to Mr. Hudson, Riley opened her mouth.

“Nuh-uh, Ms. Matthews. Your partner is your partner, now get moving.” The chemistry teacher grinned and passed her the stack of books that had been sitting before her. He gestured for her to move along.

Pouting at Maya as she passed, Riley ducked her head and trudged back to the table two back and one to the left. She slammed her books on to the desk and dramatically threw herself down onto the stool.

There was a long, long silence and then…

“Impressive display of maturity, Matthews. I’m in awe, truly.”

Narrowing her eyes, Riley spun on the boy and pointed at him, angrily. “Listen here, you don’t talk to me. You don’t look at me. You don’t breathe on me. Do that and we might actually get a decent grade.”

Quirking an eyebrow and otherwise remaining expressionless, “And followed up by a completely rational reaction, not at all excessive. Color me surprised.”

“Shut up, Minkus.” Riley hissed, turning back to the front as Mr. Hudson began to go on about the project.

The hatred between Riley Matthews and Farkle Minkus began on the very first day of Freshman year.

Riley, bright and shiny with sunlight sown under her skin, had strolled in through the double doors of Abigail Adams High School with high-in-the-sky, apple-pie hopes. She’d been the top student at John Quincy Adams Middle School and had been working on her valedictorian speech since her 351st ‘A’.

It was her beginning, the true start of her path to excellence and Ivy League.

Farkle, darker and more empirical with some dents and scratches in his packaging, stumbled through the doors of Abigail Adams because an upperclassman had rammed into him. He’d been bullied and beaten in elementary school, transferring to Einstein Academy the second his parents said he could. He had excelled there, top marks and every teacher’s favorite, and he was ready to keep the momentum going through high school.

Princeton, as his father constantly reminded him, was calling.

Riley hated Farkle from the moment she heard him cursing under his breath in latin while fumbling with his locker combination.

Farkle hated Riley from the moment he watched her recite Pi to the 28th digit when she’d only been asked for the basic 3.14.

The only thing the two seemed able to agree upon was that Abigail Adams was definitely not big enough for the both of them.

The bell rang, sharp and shrill, and Riley wasn’t sure if she had ever heard anything as sweet as that sound. It had only been a week since Farkle Minkus had been assigned as her partner and she’d already wanted to kill him more times than she could count.

Shooting to her feet, she scowled and ignored Farkle as he opened his mouth to speak.

Once to the door, Riley took comfort in Maya’s waiting presence.

“Are you okay?” The blonde asked, tugging at the lapels of her combat jacket. There was something in her tone that made Riley shot her a questioning look like she found the brunette’s suffering funny.

“Oh, I’m great, Peaches!” Riley grinned painfully, forcing her cheeks to remain locked. “Why on Earth wouldn’t I be? Because Farkle said that he should take charge on our project because we aren’t ‘writing fanfiction about rainbows and butterflies’ so my expertise aren’t required?”

“Ouch.” Maya frowned.

Riley scoffed, wrenching her locker open, “Or maybe because he turned our work packet in after doing it all alone and without letting me see it?”

“Admittedly unnecessary.”

“Oh, oh! Maybe you think I’m not fine because Farkle insisted on checking my work on balancing our chemical equation for gunpowder and, fuck him by the way, actually found one tiny, little mistake?!” Riley’s voice rose and she slammed her locker back shut, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Puckering her lips, Maya eyes widened at her best friend, Riley Matthews, cursing aloud and glanced around to see that the outburst had called the attention of some of their peers.

“Move along, ya stalkers, nothing to see here!” She snapped at two passing freshmen, who immediately cowered away and raced off. She turned back to Riley to speak, only to be interrupted by a third party coming to stand a few feet from them.

Farkle stood with his shoulders slouched, hands shoved in his pockets. Riley noticed his shirt was hanging a little haphazardly and his hair was messier than it'd been just before in the chemistry lab. Meeting those cold, blue eyes, she found them looking worn and tired.

Seriously?! What’s the matter with him now?

“Minkus.”

“Matthews.”

“Can I help you?” Riley asked after Farkle didn’t continue.

He groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his head back, “Help is such a strong word.” Looking back down at her, he pulled a folded packet of papers from his pocket and held it out before him. The previously mentioned work packet. Huh.

“Hudson said that the point of having a partner is working with them and not against them, whatever that means.” Farkle shrugged.

Riley smirked, “So, he could tell that you didn’t let me work on it?”

Farkle just stared at her in response and she was once again struck by how exhausted he looked like he was too tired to even be annoyed by her as usual.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” She asked, glancing over at Maya. The blonde was watching the chemistry partners back-and-forth as if they were a tennis match.

“We have to redo it.” He sighed and noticed Riley’s drawn eyebrows, “Like together. It’s due first thing tomorrow, the start of class.”

“Wait, what?!” Riley exclaimed, dropping her arms, “But that means-“

“Meeting up after school, yeah, I know.”  Farkle shoved the packet back into his pocket and twitchily tugged at his hair. So that’s how it was suddenly all messy… “Believe me, I’m about as excited as you, Matthews.”

Rolling her eye because the whole situation was his fault, Riley grabbed Maya’s arm and pushed past the boy. She threw over her shoulder, “Whatever. Be at Topanga’s at 5!”

“So, your mom owns this place, right?”

Riley glanced up from her chemistry textbook to see Farkle inspecting the little cafe. They’d been working for about an hour already in near silence, having created a rotation system where they completed the work and then exchanged it for the other’s approval. It was actually working quite nicely, and now Minkus had to go and talk.

Following his gaze, Riley’s chocolate eyes took in the familiar atmosphere of her second home. The scent of coffee and fresh croissants hung in the air, filling her nostrils and heart with nostalgia.

Tapping her pencil against the coil of her notebook, she nodded and returned to working, “My family, yeah.” Scrunching up her face, she amended, “Co-own.”

“It’s nice.”

Riley froze, wondering if she’d heard right. Farkle Minkus had never complimented anything about Riley. Never once in the four years that they had known of the other’s existence. And sure he hadn’t said she was pretty or smart or anything but he’d still said something nice about something dear to her.

Weird.

“Uh,” Riley slowly meet his eyes, which were now zeroed in on her, “Thank you.”

“I thought your mom was a lawyer? And your dad’s a history teacher. Where does entrepreneurship come into all that?” Farkle asked.

She shifted and blushed, recalling her mother’s attire on the day they had bought half of the cafe and bakery. A small laugh slipped past her lips as she shook her head, “Actually, it was going to go out of business and my mom has this freakish moral compass so she couldn’t let it go down. And it’s Auggie’s favorite.”

“Your little brother?” Farkle nodded, looking down at his hands fiddling on the table before him.

Confused, Riley nodded, “Yeah. How did you-“

Farkle cut her off, shifting in his booth, “Scientists observe.”

“Sort of comes off like stalking.” She quipped without thinking. Oddly, she hadn’t actually meant it as an insult, just a joke, like she’d tease Maya.

And then something even odder happened.

Farkle laughed.

And not like a breezy, cool-guy chuckle either but a real honker, reminiscent of a car alarm.

It was silent for a moment before Riley burst into her own full out, gut busting laughter, bending over the table with tears forming in her eyes.

“Was,” She gasped between giggles, “that your laugh?!”

The lingering smile that had befallen the boy’s lip instantly slipped away and he slunk down into the booth, glaring at the table, “Shut up, Matthews.”

Rolling her eyes, Riley half-hearted tried to smother her bubbly laughter, “Oh, don’t pout! It was actually kind of cute.” She shrugged, not realizing what she’d said at first.

Once the words did register in her head and she noticed Farkle freeze across from her, however, she viscously backpedaled with a horrified expression, “Not cute! I mean,” She let out a squeaky attempt at a scoff, “I obviously didn’t mean that you were- I was just-“

Riley forced her mouth shut, her cheeks burning as she looked anywhere but at Farkle Minkus.

Her stomach twisted when after several long, long minutes of returned silence and work, she glanced up to see Farkle looking once again at his fidgeting hands, the corners of his mouth curved into the smallest of smiles.

Oh fuck…

Weeks passed and following the evening at Topanga’s, Riley found that Farkle Minkus wasn’t quite as unbearable as she’d always thought.

Nope, that’s not the problem with him anymore… She thought, looking up as the boy in question whirled into the chemistry classroom. Like her, he always seemed to prefer arriving long before the bell rang. Her heart hammered as he approached, head down and eyes on his feet, and she smiled to herself as she looked back at her notebook.

In fact, Riley’s new problem with Farkle Minkus was, ironically, just how very, very bearable she was coming to find him.

Sure, she still wanted to throttle him a few times a class period and, yeah okay, she would still never, ever admit aloud that he was probably, maybe, just a little smarter than her but… something had definitely shifted in the last month she’d now been his partner.

Farkle’s usual remarks that once made her blood boil now made Riley bite back smiles, as she slowly began to realize that most of the time the boy wasn’t being intentionally rude, just incredibly socially inept, which was honestly so endearing.

The effort he had begun putting toward their partnership was another thing to draw her in, and while she figured he was probably just committed to a good grade there was a part of her that liked to think maybe he just trusted her opinion more.

And it didn’t really help how damn adorable he was.

Seriously, Riley had always known that Farkle Minkus was objectively attractive; it had once made her even more infuriated with him. It was just different now. Now, she didn’t feel the need to talk herself out of finding him attractive, to talk herself out of ‘observing’ him.

Observing him just a scientist would, of course, She reasoned. Taking notes on all his nervous ticks because goddamn the boy could just not sit still. Listing alphabetically the names of the important people in his life that he so very rarely mentioned: Jennifer, Lucas, Smackle, Stuart, Zay. Cataloging into a mental database every expression, every curve of a lip or quirk of an eyebrow.

“Matthews.”

Riley pulled herself from her thoughts and turned to give Farkle a nod in greeting, “Minkus.”

“Your weekend?”

“Good. Yours?”

“The usual.”

This was another new routine for the pair. They now actually asked each other, in their own way, about each other’s lives, weekends, and days. Riley relished the small interaction as it not only made her feel like just maybe her endearment was possibly mutual, but it was also teasing enough about Farkle’s life to satisfy her mounting curiosity.

Farkle’s cell phone, set face up on the table between them, buzzed and the screen lit up with a text.

From Jennifer Bassett Minkus: You are not the center of my universe, Farkle.

A pause and then a second buzz and text.

From Jennifer Bassett Minkus: Call your father or get over it.

The boy, who’d been busy hanging up his jacket and backpack on the back of his stool, dropped the bag to the floor and scrambled to grab the cell phone. Shoving it hastily into his pocket, he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.

Another nervous tick. Riley noted before what she'd just seen really registered. Her eyebrows drew together as Farkle silently took his seat and kept his head bent.

Jennifer Bassett Minkus, Riley knew from the limited data she had, was Farkle’s mother. Riley had seen the tall, gorgeous, intimidating blonde a few times over the years, walking next to her son in the hall at teacher conferences or whispering on her cell phone in the back row at debates. She’d seemed okay, even if a little terrifying.

Still, her words, seared into Riley’s brain in Helvetica font, seems so harsh. She couldn’t imagine ever having her own mother or father speak to her so brutally.

Thinking for a long moment, Riley swallowed hard and turned to Farkle before she could talk herself out of her next action, “Is everything okay, Farkle?”

His pencil paused mid-word and his eye flickered over to her before he pressed on, “It’s rude to look at other people’s texts.”

“Scientists observe.” Riley countered with an echo of the boy’s own previous statement and kept her gaze and voice steady.

That made him stop his writing.

Farkle remained bent over his paper for a moment before spinning himself around to come face-to-face with the pretty brunette. Like, really, really face-to-face. Like, with how close he was and how those intense, magnetic, electric blue eyes seemed to be taking in every inch of her face, Riley struggled to remember her original question or even the fact that she was current in chemistry and supposed to be copying the notes from the board.

But who would ever be able to think with someone looking at them like that? Like she was a nearly complete theorem that would unravel the mysteries of the stars. Like she was a riddle that he, for whatever reason, was positively desperate to solve.

Swallowing hard, Farkle looked away after a second, after an eternity, and yet Riley still felt completely out of sorts. She blinked several times and, like her partner, returned to copying notes.

“Topanga’s at 5.”

Riley didn’t acknowledge Farkle’s words. Somehow she knew she didn’t have to. He already knew she’d come.

Riley rushed into Topanga’s twenty minutes late and feeling incredibly guilty. Her father always had to stay after school on Wednesdays for bus duty, but this Wednesday her mother also had to work late unexpectedly and had needed her to keep an eye on Auggie until one of them could get home.

She’d practically run from the apartment the moment her father walked in. It wasn’t like she had Farkle’s number to explain and she was worried that he’d give up on waiting for her.

But there he was, sitting at their usual booth, and of course fiddling with his hands.

Riley flung herself down across from him, an apology already on her lips, “Farkle, I am-“

“Matthews.”

“-SO sorry! I swear I didn’t-“

“Matthews.”

“-Mean to leave you waiting. It’s just-“

“Matthews!” Farkle snapped, expression exaggerated and a little bemused.

Riley slammed her mouth shut, a light blush spreading across her face. Looking at the table, her stomach dropped. Farkle’s chemistry book and notebook were open and resting on the surface, obviously being actively utilized. “Oh no! I forgot my stuff!”

“Huh?” Farkle looked confused for a moment before he followed her gaze, “Um, actually, I just had these out while I was waiting, you know, for you.” He shrugged without meeting her eye and reached out to slam the textbook shut.

“Oh.”

Riley blushed more and worried at her lower lip, becoming very interested in her cuticles.

So, Farkle didn’t want to meet for their project… she hadn’t let herself really hope that he just wanted to spend time with her, just wanted to maybe talk to her. But now it seemed the logical conclusion and Riley tried to always be logical.

She waited for Farkle to begin, only he didn’t. He remained silent, slouching in his seat, and rubbing the back of his neck.

Apprehension began to creep into the girl’s bones. She’d never been alone with Farkle Minkus for any reason other than school work and she didn’t really know what to expect. Was this just how he was socially? He had friends, right?

Yeah, Lucas Friar and Zay Babineaux. They’re one mix-match threesome, but they are definitely friends.

Well, then maybe Farkle just didn’t want to talk after all. So, why ask her here? Why wait for her when she didn’t come on time?

Why?

Oh god, what if she’d been imagining his increasing kindness? What if he hadn’t changed his mind about her after all? What if he hadn’t changed his mind but had realized she’d changed her’s? What if he was now just messing with her, laughing at her?

Taking a deep breath, the girl made herself sit up as a display of completely false confidence and narrowed her eyes at the genius across from her, “Look, Minkus, if you just asked me here to mess with me-“

“Mess with you?” Farkle echoed, his head snapping up at an alarming speed, eyes wide.

Riley raised her eyebrows at him skeptically and gestured around them.

He shook his head, quickly, “For once, Matthews, I am honestly not trying to mess with you.”

Looking at him long and hard, Riley sighed and relaxed back into her seat. “So, what are you trying to do, then?”

“Talk to you, obviously.” He stated like she was stupid for not already knowing. She did not appreciate the tone.

“Then talk.”

“Well, shit, Matthews, why didn’t I think of that? They certainly aren’t joking about you being the second in our class.” Farkle snapped, his eyes cold in a way Riley had honestly forgotten they could be. Her chest tightened as his words and gaze cutting into her.

“Oh, yeah, I am so out of here!” She frantically slid out of the booth and started toward the door only to feel a hand grasp her arm, firm but gentle. She didn’t have to, but she followed the limb back up to the boy it belonged to, not saying a word.

Farkle, who always seemed to shy away, who always seemed so indecisive down to the way he couldn’t pick one position to keep his body in, who infuriated and yet enthralled her, stared at her with steady and certain eyes.

“Wait, I shouldn’t have said that,” He paused and let her arm go, “It was wrong.”

Drawing herself up, Riley nodded, “It was.” Then she stepped back and slipped back into the booth across from him, “But I’m going to let it go and give you another chance.”

Farkle laughed but it wasn’t the cute, real laugh Riley had heard that one evening in this same spot. This was hallowed and humorless. She wasn’t a fan. “Why? It’s not like I’ve ever really given you a reason to be nice to me.”

“I don’t believe that kindness should require a reason,” Riley said, simply.

Coming from anyone, anyone, else the statement would have sounded like complete bullshit. But this was Riley Matthews and Farkle had hated her from afar long enough to know that she really was just that idealistic. It was absolutely puzzling to him.

“You might want to start the talking, though. Wouldn’t want to waste my generosity.”

He found himself flickering his gaze back up to Riley without thinking. She was doodling with her finger on the table, a teasing and genuine smile playing on her lips.

So what? She’s nice, that’s great but it doesn’t mean she’ll ever understand. Go ahead, pour your heart out, cry her a river, it won’t change a damn thing.

Farkle looked back down at his hands and sighed, tugging at his hair. “So, my parents aren’t really home a lot…”

And no, he didn’t pour his heart out or cry a river, but he did talk.

He shared with Riley Matthews things that very few people knew, things Farkle had previously only chosen to willingly share with Lucas and Zay and over time Smackle. 

He explained how business kept his father away nearly constantly, how his mother took this as permission to never be around either because the money they had obviously needed spending, and how it was really better that way because it was never good when they were both home.

When he finished, he fished his phone from his pocket and flipped it over and over in his hands. “So, that was the text you saw. The academic honor awards for the senior class are next week and when I brought it up, my mom reminded me that I am not…”

“-The center of her universe.” Riley finished, her voice wavering slightly. She shook her head, “She shouldn’t have said that. That ceremony is where they introduce you as valedictorian before graduation and I’m sure you’ve earned more awards than just that this year. You worked hard and you deserve it, she should acknowledge that!”

Quirking an eyebrow, Farkle gave Riley a look, “Matthews, did you just say that I deserve valedictorian?”

A grin broke out across the girl’s face and she shook her head, giggling and not even bothering to try and cover up her obvious affection, “Shut up, Minkus.”

“Hey, Matthews?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks, you’re actually not the worst person to talk to.”

“And you’re actually not the worst person to listen to.”

OKAY WOW, this turned into a total monster!!! I did not mean for this to get so intense and long and crazy. I have decided that I’m going to end this here, with this little hint of something hanging in the air between our favorite duo. However, I am thinking of a 2nd part if people are interested? Maybe actually explore this version of Riley and Farkle becoming real friends… maybe more? Would anyone like that?

[tokyoteddywolf]

An Armful Of Feelings, A Shance One-Shot

*wheezes* okay, this grew way over what i originally planned, but i also kind of like how it turned out, so here, have a Shance one shot with a lot of fluff, a splash of angst, and a bit of a surprise. :)

keep in mind: Lance is 22, Shiro is 26, Pidge is 20, Hunk is 22, and Keith is 23.

Enjoy! (This is 5,000+ words that got way out of hand....)

Prompt: “it seems we’re the only two people in this class that actually know what the fuck is going on want to team up for this project and ruin everybody’s lives” au

Lance yawned as the teacher droned on and on about some cellular structure, and sleepily scribbled down the notes. Even if he was twenty two, college could still make you feel like you were back in middle school. He took this Human Based Technology class mainly because he was a top student when it came to human anatomy and specialized in nerves and muscles, and planned to go into neurology. He figured it would be an easy class to pass, and boy was he right. His friend Pidge, who was an actual certified genius, flicked a small paper ball at him to get his attention. He looked over at her and snorted at the dead look on her face. Yup, she was bored too.

“Alright class! As you know, the Fall Semester is ending soon in a little over a month. Therefore, your final assignments shall be given out today so that you may have the entire month to work on your projects.” Lance perked up at this information. Final assignment? A month? Why would they need a month to work on a project? “The reason you have the rest of the semester to work on this, is because it is a contest as well. You must take some form of human based technology and either produce a study on it or improve it so as to better improve the lives of those who use it. If you decide to do a study paper, you are excused from the contest as everything is graded based on presentation. If you decide to improve the technology you've decided on, you must bring a model, blueprints, a speech on how it works, and a demonstration or slide. You may work in pairs for this project, and everything is due before the final day of class.”

Lance and Pidge slowly turned to each other and grinned like a pair of wicked Cheshire Cats. “Wanna team up since we're the only ones who know anything in this class?” Pidge asked, smirking. Lance's face matched her own. “Fuck yes, let's wreck these losers.” He purred, the two friends chuckling evilly as the rest of the class realized that there was no way in hell they would beat these two at their best subject.

“So, what should we try first? Wheelchairs? We could attempt hover technology...” Pidge said, idly nibbling the end of her pencil as she lay on her bed with a notepad in front of her, Lance eagle spread on the floor staring at the ceiling. “Nah, hover technology hasn't been researched enough yet, and people are already working on improving it.” The Cuban male huffed, waving his hand in dismissal. Pidge hummed thoughtfully, wracking her brain for any more ideas, and blinked as her phone dinged and lit up with a notification.

She unlocked her phone and checked the message, noting that it was from her brother's friend Shiro. Shiro went to the same college as her and Lance, actually. He was working on a Masters degree in veterinary practice after his break in the Military. He was four years older than Lance, six older than her. She glanced over to her bored meme loving pal, smirking slightly. Lance and Shiro actually knew each other through Shiro's younger brother Keith, though Shiro hadn't really talked with Lance much, and Lance had the biggest fucking crush on the Japanese-American she'd ever seen. It was admittedly kind of cute yet frustrating because when Lance pines, he pines hard.

Sighing, she read the message.

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

hey pidge my arm is acting up again, can you come over to take a look at it real quick?

Pidgeotto The Great

yeah sure give me a while tho im busy thinking of a project to work on for a class.

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

okay thanks. :)

Pidgeotto The Great

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

why are you like this

Pidge laughed and shook her head, grinning. Lance sat up. “What's so funny?” He asked, raising a perfect eyebrow. Pidge shrugged. “Just Shiro. He needs some help with his prosthetic. It's probably the inner joints again, probably just flexed something wrong and the attachment slipped.” She explained, blinking at the sudden thoughtful look on Lance's face. “I know that look. What idea do you have this time?” She asked, sitting up properly as Lance got to his feet and grabbed the notepad and pencil, scribbling something down and mumbling to himself.

Pidge knew better than to interrupt him while he was in Thinking Mode, so she settled against the wall lining her bed and watched him pace back and forth while he jotted down notes and was muttering something that sounded like calculations. When he finally turned to Pidge, she blinked in surprise as he suddenly shoved the notepad into her lap. “We can do this for the project! It's perfect!” Lance chirped as his small genius friend read over the notes with a critical eye. A huge grin split her face as she looked from the notepad to her beaming pal. “Okay, but if we do this, we're gonna have to ask Shiro for help. You gonna be able to control your awkward crush self around him enough to get any work done?” She teased, noting how he got a little red cheeked and shuffled in place.

“Yeah, as long as I focus on the project and not Shiro himself...” Lance explained, still a little flustered. “I'll give him a quick text and have him come over so we can chat about this in person!” Pidge cheered, picking up her phone and quickly typing out a message to the source of the project's idea.

Pidgeotto The Great

actually, do u think u can come over to my dorm real quick??? I need to talk to you about smth and id rather do it in person than over the phone. I'll fix ur arm while ur here, since I keep my tools with me.

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

Yeah, sure, I can do that :) What exactly do you want to talk about?

Pidgeotto The Great

u'll see when you get here, its nothing bad. I have smth to show you as well, so hurry up and get ur ass over here!

Absolutely Shiro-Done With Life

Language, Katie. But sure, i'll be there in a few minutes.

Pidgeotto The Great

ur not my dad (=^=) but yeah see you soon!

Lance was the one to open the door and let Shiro in, since Pidge was busy working on the blueprints Lance had roughly sketched out. “Hey Shiro! Glad you got here so fast, me and Pidge really need your help on this.” The skinny man said, grinning and thanking everything holy that he'd taken all those drama and acting classes back in high school, appearing as his normal, aloof self while Shiro smiled back. “Hey, been a while since we've talked, huh? So, what do you two want to talk to me about?” Shiro asked as Lance let him inside, shutting the door behind him and moving over to where Pidge was working at her desk.

Pidge looked up at the sound of Shiro's voice and grinned. “Well, you know how me and Lance have that Human Based Technology class? There's a big project we have to do, and me and Lance got to team up for it!” The small girl explained cheerfully, though the light malice in her smile had Shiro shuddering a little. Pidge had no mercy in competitions, she was a terrifying opponent in a battle of technology and wills. “And I'm supposed to help you how?” Shiro asked with a raised eyebrow, curious.

“Well, we're supposed to take a human based technology and improve it further, so Lance and I were thinking of doing prosthetics and wanted to ask you if you'd let us modify your arm!” Pidge declared, sitting up and pushing her glasses back into place. Shiro blinked, startled, looking over to Lance, who nodded, then focused back on Pidge. “You… want to make me a new arm?” he asked, a little confused and a slight bit apprehensive. His current prosthetic wasn't all that advanced, and often ached during cold weather or the joints would stick and refuse to bend, and would twinge painfully at the connections sometimes. Lance jumped into the conversation to explain. “No, not a new arm, a better arm, one that should work like it was your old flesh one instead of metal, at least according to my calculations.”

Pidge nodded enthusiastically, and picked up the notebook to show him the detailed layout of the arm Lance had sketched, complicated words and numbers scribbled next to the diagram. Shiro scanned the page, eyebrow raising higher and higher until he looked at both students with a conflicted expression on his face. “If I agree to this, what exactly do you need me to do?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. Pidge motioned to Lance.

“Well, all we'd need at first are measurements. Once the prototype is finished, we'd test how the cuff attachment fits on you, then make sure it was comfortable before connecting it to the actual prosthetic. Once everything is done and all the tests are finished, we'd have to take off your old prosthetic to put the new one on. The new arm is supposed to use extremely tiny needles to enter your, ah, stump, and connect to the proper nerves and muscles like how it is for a flesh arm, and connects to your neural pathways so that the electric impulses you use to move your body are used by the prosthetic as well. Basically giving you an arm you use with your brain rather than your muscles.” Lance explained in all seriousness, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to. We can always just do a model and some blueprints and just explain how it works...” He mumbled, scuffing at the carpet with a sock covered foot. Shiro hummed thoughtfully, turning the idea over in his mind for a few minutes.

“Pleeeeaaaaseee Shiro?” Pidge whined, turning big brown puppy eyes to the six-years-her-senior man. “You'd let me and Lance build you a new arm, right? I am the little sister of your best friend after all~!” Shiro wavered, before glancing over to Lance and immediately regretting it as the Cuban male also turned the pleading pout on him, big blue eyes and trembling lips and oh god dammit he was going to agree to this one way or another wasn't he?

Shiro sighed. “Alright then, I'll let you do this. But you better go all out. Anything less than an A and I'm calling Matt.” Pidge whooped and Lance grinned before yelping as he was yanked into a group hug by the excited girl, Shiro getting dragged in and pressing against Lance's side and oh boy he hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt- “Thank you thank you thank you Shiro!!! Me and Lance are gonna build you the best fucking arm this side of the moon!” Pidge declared, arms around both of her taller friends. Shiro laughed and contributed to the group hug, a quick squeeze, before pulling back. Lance missed the heat almost instantly.

“Come back over tomorrow and we should have some blueprint outlines done. I'll take your arm measurements then. For now, let me take a look at your current prosthetic. You said it was acting up, right?”

Lance sat on the bed, fighting down a blush and distracted himself with scribbling out more detailed sketches of the new prosthetic, listening to Pidge and Shiro chat as she fixed up his arm.

A week later, Lance hissed in pain as a piece of the metal arm shell he was working on slipped and cut his palm. Pulling back, he shook his hand, trying to work off the sharp throbbing pain. “Lance, are you okay?” Shiro asked from where Pidge was examining his arm again, the joints having been sticking a lot more than usual recently. “Just peachy. The metal doesn't want to work with me today.” Lance groaned, scrutinizing the blood welling up from the cut. It wasn't very deep, but not shallow enough that he wouldn't bleed.

Concerned, Shiro got up, moved over and took his hand to take a look, not noticing the sudden flush on Lance's cheeks as he clicked his tongue in worry. “That's going to need a bandage for sure… Hey Pidge, where are the bandages?” Shiro asked, turning to where Pidge was watching the exchange with amusement. “Desk drawer, third from the top.” She replied, and Shiro dragged Lance over to sit in Pidge's green swivel chair, rummaging around in the mentioned drawer and pulling out a box of large band-aids, the kind you use for knee scrapes.

“Here, let me see.” The larger man ordered, and Lance swallowed thickly before holding his bloody hand out, palm up. “Here, use this to wipe up the blood before he drips on my floor.” Pidge called, tossing an old towel over to Shiro, who caught it and started cleaning away the red liquid before unwrapping and carefully pressing the band-aid on. Lance was 90% sure his heart was about to jump out of his throat. “There, is that better?” Shiro asked, and released Lance's hand. The Cuban male laughed awkwardly and stepped back to breathe. “Uh, yeah, it does feel better. Thanks, Shiro.” He admitted with a wry grin, Shiro smiling back in relief.

“Okay, tender bro moment over, Shiro get your ass back over here so I can finish up adjusting that joint.” Pidge drawled lazily from her spot on the bed, amused when both men jumped, startled, like they'd forgotten she was there. “Ah, right. Sorry.” Shiro muttered, before moving away to go sit next to Pidge and her array of tools. Lance cleared his throat nervously before going back to working on the model prosthetic he was attempting to build.

To be honest with himself, that was probably the closest he'd ever gotten to holding Shiro's hand…

“No no, Lance, the blue wire connects to this finger, not that one.” Hunk directed his best friend gently, as Lance was working on the hand part of the prosthetic back at his own dorm. It had already been two weeks since the whole bandage incident, and Lance's crush had started to spiral out of control the more time he spent with the older man. Ever since then it just seemed to get worse and Lance had no idea how to fix it. Small encouraging comments as he worked on the wiring, smiles and soft looks, they'd even started trading stories on their families. (Lance had so much blackmail on Keith now, it made even Pidge impressed. And she was the Queen of blackmail.)

Sure Lance was known as the campus flirt, but he never really succeeded in any of his endeavors. He'd dated before, but it's not like he ever had to deal with a crush this bad, and he really didn't want to mess up the current dynamic he shared with Shiro, so confessing was a no go. Sighing, he set the tangled up mess of fingers and wires down and groaned into his hands.

Hunk, his roommate, best friend and mechanical genius, raised an eyebrow. “You doin' okay buddy? If it's too confusing I can always take a look for you...” He asked, concerned. Lance huffed out a short laugh. “No, it's not that. I'm just having some… problems with my feelings lately, that's all.” Hunk made a soft, drawn out 'oh' sound and smiled sympathetically, patting Lance on the back.

“Ah, I see, you're crushing hard on someone again. Still Shiro or do you have your eye on someone new?” Lance sighed. “Nope, still stuck on Shiro… and now that we're doing this whole new prosthetic thing, we keep spending more time with each other and it's doing bad things to my heart, Hunk! I don't know how many more looks or praises I can take from the guy before my heart decides to give up and die in my throat! I'm dying from love, dude!” he whined, slumping against his pal. Hunk chuckled and ruffled his roommate's hair affectionately.

“You'll live, buddy. Remember how bad I was with Shay before I told her how I felt?” Lance snorted. “Yeah, I remember. You kept baking foods that were a little too salty and binged on chocolate chip cookies. You were afraid of her brother and how he'd react if you tried dating her.” Hunk grinned sheepishly. “Don't get me wrong, he still scares me, but everything ended up just fine once I confessed and I now have the sweetest girlfriend on campus.” “Dude, you and Shay have been the reigning champions of the Cutest Couple title for two years running.” Lance deadpanned, and Hunk laughed. “I think you and Shiro would be cuter than me and Shay, honestly. But, if you're going to confess, you'd better do it in the best way possible.” The engineer said cheerfully. “Oh yeah? How?” Lance grumbled, tilting his head from his pal's shoulder to look at Hunk's smirking face.

“Why, in the most dramatic and Lance-like way possible, of course!”

The two boys didn't stop laughing for hours after that.

“So, exactly how is this supposed to work?” Keith asked the tiny technology expert as she finished adjusting the attachment cuff and corrected the size, looking intrigued by the now mostly formed arm. Pidge sighed.

“Well, this cuff keeps his arm from falling off. All we have to do is slide the inner mechanism parts into the metal casing we made from the mold we made from Shiro's left arm and hand, though we flipped it so it became a right arm and hand, and then we connect it to this cuff that's supposed to fit over Shiro's stump to keep the prosthetic from falling out or disconnecting, which would probably be a little painful. The cuff is designed to hold onto the skin around his arm, tight enough to stay but loose enough to be comfortable and not constricting the blood flow. The arm itself is going to basically use a bunch of tiny, dissolving needles to shoot wires into his body and connect to the proper muscles and nerves you use to move your arm. Everything is going to be secured so that it won't disconnect, and the wires are supposed to also attach to the bone so that tugging on his prosthetic won't make it pop off. The cuff is just an added measure to keep everything from aching, since even though it's lightweight it's still going to ache a little if left hanging for too long. The adjusting nanomachine fabric I added will prevent chafing and will adjust when Shiro flexes or moves his arm. It also covers the scarring, which is an added bonus, since we all know he doesn't like looking at the reminders...” Pidge trailed off, and Keith nodded grimly.

“Yeah… I'm just glad the nightmares have mostly stopped...” Keith muttered, flopping down onto the ground. Shiro had gone to the Military after high school, and had stayed there for a few years before being honorably discharged after losing his arm during his time as a POW. Army life had changed his brother, and Keith was pretty sure most of it was for the worst. Nightmares, PTSD, a lost arm and a changed personality. He wasn't as happy-go-lucky as he used to be, and had lost a few memories too. It took him a long time to go back to college, but Keith was glad he did. He seemed to open up more nowadays, and was much less closed off than before. The young astrology student sighed and tilted his head to look at Pidge with a sudden smirk, and the upside down girl at the desk turned to give him a raised eyebrow look.

“So, how's the plan going?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Pidge laughed. “Stop that you dork. And the plan is working perfectly. It's only a matter of time now~!” The twenty year old woman sang, as her partner in crime gave her a thumbs up. “Soon, my conspiracy theory comrade, soon.” Keith purred sinisterly, and Pidge giggled evilly. “They'll never know what hit them.”

Lance exhaled deeply and rolled his shoulders. Today was the day. The deadline was tomorrow, and they had finally finished building the prosthetic arm and put it through more tests than he'd taken in his junior year of high school. Every single test proved the arm was ready. Now all that was left was actually attaching it to Shiro. He knocked on the door, and when he was let inside, he was faced with Pidge, more serious than he'd ever seen her before. “You ready for this?” The gremlin asked, quirking a brow at him. Lance nodded firmly. “Let's get this show on the road.”

They started setting up everything they needed, like pillows, towels, adjustment tools and double checked the testing checklist they would use once the arm was properly connected to Shiro's body. “Okay, I called Hunk and Keith over as well, because we need to document this and I can't hold a camera while adjusting connections and you can't either since you're the one moving it into place.” Pidge informed him as she prepped the prosthetic for attachment, as Shiro would arrive with Keith. Lance nodded from his spot on the bed, where he was arranging the pillows for Shiro to sit with in order to keep him as still as possible while they put the new arm on.

Sure enough, less than a half hour later, an engineering student, an astrology student and a veterinary student walked through the door like the start to a weird joke with a bad punchline. “You ready for this, Shiro?” Pidge asked as said man settled onto the bed and clutched a pillow with his good arm. “As ready as I'll ever be.” He joked, though it sounded a little strained. “Okay, first things first, we have to take off the old arm. Try not to freak out, okay?” Pidge warned, knowing about his panic attacks and giving fair caution before she tried anything.

Shiro swallowed thickly and nodded. “Don't worry, it's not going to hurt, and I'll stop if it gets too bad.” Pidge soothed before she moved around him to start undoing the latches and connections to his stump. Shiro did really well, at least until she actually pulled off the arm. That's when everything went wrong. Shiro started hyperventilating, eyes darting around frantically and pained noises leaking through his tight-lipped mouth.

“Shiro, calm down, you're okay, it's just me, Pidge, see? I'm not hurting you, you're in my room, and- WOAH!” Pidge tried to calm down the former soldier, but ducked with a short scream when Shiro lashed out at her. Good thing nobody was in the dorms at this time of day. Lance was thankful for the soundproof walls as Shiro panicked through his flashback, the older man wheezing for the people he couldn't see to leave his arm alone.

“Shiro! Snap out of it! You aren't in the enemy camp, you're safe, it's okay!” Keith yelped, attempting to hold down his big brother, and ultimately getting hurled across the room. Hunk stepped in and managed to hook his arms around Shiro's shoulders to restrain him, but his legs still flailed and kicked frantically, and Lance was terrified that he was going to hurt himself like this. So he did a stupid, very Lance thing and stepped closer to the writhing, screeching man, ignoring the sharp flash of pain across his arm when nails sliced into them, and carefully put his hands on Shiro's cheeks to force him to look into ocean blue eyes. Hunk tightened his grip on the man.

Shiro panted and wheezed, chest heaving, his knee drove itself into Lance's gut but Lance was more durable than he looked, so he toughed it out and spoke as calmly as he could. “Shiro, you have to snap out of it, buddy. You are just fine, nobody here is taking your arm. You're okay. It's not real. Look at me, because I am real and whatever you're seeing isn't. Just, focus on me, okay?” He asked, though his stomach ached and was probably gonna bruise and his heart was pounding like crazy. Shiro slowly started to calm down, silver eyes unclouded and looking at him, and Lance could hear the background sound of Pidge helping Keith up.

Less than twenty minutes later had Lance sitting next to a prosthetic-less Shiro, rubbing small circles into his back as his crush quietly sipped a glass of water. Pidge was doing a minor repair to the new prosthetic, since it had gotten knocked over in the struggle, so they had a little while to breathe. Shiro cleared his throat gently. “I uh, I'm sorry for freaking out like that… you were all just trying to help...” He murmured, subdued and solemn.

Lance laughed lightly. “Nah, man, it's okay. I've had worse from my siblings. Plus, we knew you might freak, going in. Nobody blames you for having the reaction you did, it's only natural after what happened to you back then… But, now everything is okay again, and once Pidge finishes up you'll have a new arm!” He reassured, smiling. Shiro huffed, mouth twitching up in a faint smile.

Keith and Hunk were currently in the dorm kitchen working on getting some food after the whole fiasco, so it was just Lance, Shiro and Pidge in the room for now. Pidge piped up from her spot at her desk. “Lance is right, Shiro! Though he still shot down my idea of getting a bulletproof vest.” She sounded like she was pouting, and Shiro blinked. “They only stop projectiles, Pidge, they don't protect you all that great from a kick to the chest. You'd still get tossed and bruised.” Lance defended himself, rolling his eyes. This led to an intense debate between the two on force, inertia, the density of padding versus the strength of a kick, the vulnerability of the human body, and a bunch of other terms that had Shiro feeling like he was in the middle of a scientific lecture on physics.

Luckily, the debate ended with the return of Keith and Hunk with a large plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and various other snacks. Pidge finished checking the wiring and nodded in satisfaction, moving over to Shiro. Hunk held up the camera. “Right, we're rolling!” The big man signaled. “Okay, on three, big guy.” She muttered, Lance getting into position to hold the arm steady. Shiro nodded, keeping as still as possible as Pidge unlatched the cuff and pressed it into place at the edge of his stump, lining up the tiny near-invisible needles to the correct marks Lance had traced onto a diagram earlier.

Lance's sharp eyes and steady hands guided the robot arm into place, and Pidge counted under her breath. “One...two...three!” On three, she and Lance moved and quickly attached the prosthetic, Pidge's quick fingers moving up to lock the cuff over the held position of the arm, which triggered the launching of the needles and wires.

Shiro grunted as a prickling feeling erupted all over his shoulder and stump as the needles did their work, attaching the wires to their assigned places and nerves. The needles were made of condensed nutrients that were absorbed by the body once their job was done. The cuff locked into place, keeping everything still as the tingly feeling faded away and Shiro now had a hunk of metal connected to him.

“Alright, now we just wait a few moments for the nerves to kick in… Shiro, let me know if you start feeling any phantom pains or anything like when you had your actual right arm, because that means it's starting to work.” Lance ordered as he and Pidge moved away to let the arm do it's work. Shiro nodded, his brain getting used to the new attachment, until he suddenly jolted and started staring at the arm in shock.

“Shiro?” Keith asked, worried. Shiro's reply was a near whisper. “I- It's like I can feel the wires like muscles…” Pidge's eyes lit up. “Okay, try telling it to move with your brain!” Shiro nodded and narrowed his eyes, concentrating, and the fingers twitched. A quiet gasp echoed in the room. “Try again, like, give us a wave maybe?” Lance asked, and Shiro complied, the arm twitching and suddenly moving up to wave at the camera. A grin started to spread over Shiro's face. Pidge bounced up and down on the balls of her feet excitedly as she whipped out the testing checklist.

Shiro then proceeded to ace every single test with ease, becoming more and more used to using the arm as each test went by. Soon he didn't even have to focus too hard in order to move it, as it worked just like a real arm. Shiro couldn't stop smiling, and it was honestly the most adorable thing Lance had ever seen. Once the final test had passed, Pidge declared him officially cleared to use it however he liked. The first thing he did was scoop the prosthetic creators up in a huge hug, laughing joyfully and spinning them around, much to  Pidge's loud squawking protest and Lance's surprised yelp.

Shiro actually even kissed the girl on the forehead and Lance on the cheek in gratitude before letting them go and practically bounding over to his brother like an overeager puppy to show off how his new arm moved. Keith had never seen Shiro like this before in his life, so he was a little blinded by the beaming smile on his older brother's face.

Hunk wandered over to Lance, trying not to laugh at how the biologist student was bent over, one hand supporting him on the desk while the other clutched at his heart as he wheezed and sputtered through a blushing face that put the color of a red bell pepper to shame. Hunk gently reminded Lance to breathe while Shiro practically sang praises behind them. Lance couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day, and neither did Shiro. Pidge had new blackmail material on Lance, and quite happily shared it with Keith. Lance also didn't sleep that night, at least not as well as usual.

They got an A+, and the blueprints were actually being sent to the top research facility in prosthetics! Pidge could not stop freaking out over this news, and was currently walking behind Lance and Shiro, babbling to her parents about it. They were on their way back from the last class of the day, as everyone was getting ready for the break between semesters since the last day of school was tomorrow. Pidge waved them ahead as she continued to talk with her brother over the phone, so it was just the two college students as they walked towards the dorm building.

Lance walked next to Shiro, humming idly as his eyes flicked over to the taller male now and then. “So, Lance?” Shiro started, and Lance jumped slightly, not having expected Shiro to start talking. “Uh, yeah? What's up?” He asked, trying not to seem a little panicked. “So, uh, I was wondering… are you free this weekend?” That was not a question Lance was expecting, and he stumbled over a loose chunk of concrete on the sidewalk, falling forwards with a yelp, scrunching his eyes in anticipation for the inevitable crash to the ground.

Which… never came, as two strong arms shot forward and caught him before he hit concrete, one smooth metal and the other firm, warm skin and muscle. “Woah, are you okay?” Shiro asked, concerned, and Lance blinked up at him and offered an awkward smile as he scrambled to stand back on his own two legs. “Yeah, I'm cool, just didn't notice the pothole, haha.” He joked, attempting to cover up his embarrassment. Letting go of his hold on the other, Shiro smiled warmly at him. “Oh good. So, about this weekend… maybe I could treat you to lunch or something?” Oh, they were already at the dorms...

Lance smiled at the slight flush over the taller man's cheeks. “Yeah, I'm free on Saturday, if you'd like...” Shiro's smile widened. “Great! It's a date then. See you around, Lance!” Lance's jaw dropped as Shiro gave him a friendly wave goodbye and started jogging up the stairs to his floor. Lance could practically feel his face turning redder and redder as he processed the words.

“It's a date then!…..It's a date then….a date….”

Later, Hunk came home to find Lance screaming into the thickest pillow they had, and laughed like crazy when he learned the reason why.

That year, there was a new Cutest Couple in the yearbook. Lance had never been happier in his life, and Shiro was just as pleased.

Two college students, finally free from school, sat next to each other on lounge chairs outside a cute little drink store and watched people walk by. Both were wearing clothes more suited for summer, the man in a tank top and shorts, the woman in a t-shirt and jean shorts. Oddly enough, both were wearing sunhats and sunglasses.

The shorter woman sipped her lime green syrupy drink and smirked at her phone where a picture of two men holding hands, laughing, popped up on a Facebook post. The man next to her mirrored the smirk, and reached out his fist to bump against hers while he drank his own cherry red Italian soda.

“What do you think, Keith?”

“Pidge, I do believe that we can proclaim this mission, accomplished.”

The plan had worked, and the two lovebirds were none the wiser.