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ambivalentangst · 7 years ago

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Skewed Magic and Lucky Hearts

After having to deal with way too many misplaced commas, I’ve finally finished my piece for @vldshipexchange! This fic was created for @breeeliss, who asked for some plance! Taking into consideration the fact that I've never written romantically for the ship before and the point of this particular exchange, I’m pleased to present you with approximately 9.5k of modern witch!pidge and parkourer!lance. It was a pleasure to create for this exchange, I hope you enjoy it!

tw: mentioned verbal abuse

Pidge was not expecting to be plowed over by a lanky mess of flying limbs, cracking the plastic cauldron she’d gotten from a pop-up Halloween store in the process, but Wednesdays had been awful ever since Pidge had accidentally blown up her color-coded and star aligned magic calendar in a spell gone wrong. She’d liked Curtis a lot, as she affectionately dubbed the enchanted and dog-eared pile of paper and ink, but he was the spiteful sort (half the reason they got along). Pidge cursed her luck and the stranger who was hurrying to pick up the scorpion tails that had fallen out of a Ziploc Pidge hadn’t sealed properly. It had gone flying from its place in her cauldron in the collision.

Pidge placed two small hands on her hips, scrunching down the fabric of her oversized NASA tee, a gift from Matt who originally had taken it from Shiro and was then stolen by Pidge because it was already spaghetti stained, and was therefore ideal for when her magic exploded in her face. The stranger who had knocked into her was looking a little sheepish, holding out the baggie.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. You dropped--er--I guess I dropped these--uh--things. Here you go.” Pidge snatched it from his grip, stuffing it hastily back into her cauldron despite the offset crack she could see going down the side.

“You are so lucky nothing happened to them,” she snapped, doing a headcount to be sure she had as many as she needed. Allura made fair trades, but never for even a little less than she was owed. Upon finding herself one short, she huffed and got down on her hands and knees. When she looked up she saw the face of the stranger staring down at her in bemusement. She huffed irritatedly.

“Are you not gonna’ help? I need one more of these,” she announced, pushing her useless glasses up her nose. Matt claimed they’d helped him get a feel for his magic when he was younger, bought from a store across town to service him like training wheels on a bike. Pidge was just glad that mostly nobody knew their purpose because while it was embarrassing to still have to use such rudimentary techniques, her already poor abilities only got worse without them.

The boy dutifully stooped down to her level, scanning the dirty concrete for any spillings strewn across its grey surface.

“Charming, aren’t you?” he asked as Pidge’s continued search came up empty handed, letting out a colorful stream of curses as her chosen method of coping. She still thought it was better than what Matt would’ve come up with in all of his “jinkies” and “funky fudge nuggets.” When Shiro was over and the three of them played video games together he preferred to listen to Pidge, or so he claimed. Pidge resisted the urge to snap her cauldron in half.

“I’ve been told,” she grumbled. The stranger laughed, and she wanted to snap him in half too. It had taken a damn long time to find a troll willing to part with what could make a very nice dinner.

“Where can I find somebody else as lovely as yourself?” Pidge reached for her Ziploc, counting again while her tongue poked out the side of her mouth in concentration.

“Try the local sewer,” she replied and grinned as she found she had merely miscounted. That nugget of luck wasn’t enough to brighten her interaction with the stranger, but it sure did make her future better.

“Aha!” she exclaimed. “Miscount.” She blamed the glasses. They were good for magic, not so much for when she actually needed to see. Still, Pidge got into enough standoffs with the goblins living in the nearby dumpster to warrant wearing them constantly. She turned back to the stranger who, to his credit, didn’t appear too put out by her snark.

“Again, sorry about running into you and spilling your stuff. I’m Lance.” He stuck out his hand, flashing a crooked smile. Pidge crossed her arms.

“I’m marginally satisfied despite the state of my,” she glanced down at her shit excuse of a container, “Bag. Thank you for your help,” she told him stiffly. Lance blinked a few times in response but shrugged.

“Whatever. Good luck with whatever you’ve got there, sewer rat,” he told her with a nod to her wares. “Also, I think you missed your chance to walk.” Pidge looked over her shoulder to see her last two out of thirty seconds tick away and was annoyed all over again. She swiveled back to glare at Lance but was interrupted by a blur of red slamming onto the rooftop of a neighboring Thai restaurant.

“I’m winning!” the blur yelled, and Lance lit up again, a devilish grin crowding his cheeks.

“Oh you just wait until I get back up there, mullet!” he shouted, and Pidge dazedly watched him shimmy up the pipe on the side of the wall to chase after him. She shook her head. Boys were dumb, and she needed her ingredients for her potion. She irritatedly slammed her hand back onto the button to the crosswalk in a motion that was most certainly not painful. She waited for another turn, and in the meantime clutched her cauldron to her chest. She didn’t care who she had to watch jump across rooftops as long as she got to Allura’s in one piece.

Pidge had the hindsight to know that she needed to buy more than one brew’s worth of ingredients, but it still didn’t make it any less frustrating to be smelling broiled newt for the third time that week. She had plenty of magic in her--everyone said she had potential, why it couldn’t be accessed was beyond her--it just happened that most of the time it blew up in her face rather than doing anything useful.

She sighed as she took her spoon and stirred the pot. Pidge didn’t actually have a cauldron, other than the one that had been reluctantly retired to a shelf of other odd trinkets in her room after the incident with Lance. Matt and her dad did, but both Pidge and her mom decided that was just because they were nerds, and that some containers they picked up from Walmart would do the trick.

She perked up as she heard the doorbell ring. Matt had mentioned Shiro was coming over with a friend or two, and she nudged Gunther, who was sprawled at her feet. Her mom’s familiar, and even he was better at magic than Pidge.

“Could you get that, boy? I really wanna’ make this batch work.” The dog rolled over on his belly and wagged his tail in the general direction of the door. It unlocked with a click, and Pidge shouted over her shoulder.

“It’s open!” Upon doing so she was greeted with the sound of Shiro’s typical, polite entry, and then a bickering that reminded her precisely why she couldn’t use her awful excuse for a purse. She knew those two, or three voices since they’d apparently roped Shiro into the discussion along with them.

“C’mon Shiro I totally beat him. Just because I was on ground level doesn’t mean I didn’t win,” Lance argued, bustling into the kitchen while Pidge gripped her spoon so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“I told you and Keith to stop doing that,” he argued, completely ignoring Lance’s point. “Just because you’ve got luck doesn’t mean you aren’t going to fall, especially across all the balconies and piping you guys like.” Lance emitted a dramatic sigh, draping himself over the chair.

“I’m fine! You and my mom, really. Where’s Matt anywa-” Pidge’s eyes narrowed, meeting his own. Lance smiled.

“If it isn’t the sewer rat.” Pidge sighed, turning her back to her brew for a moment.

“And pray tell, what brings you here?” she asked and yelped as a bubble from the frothing mixture popped and a few drops landed on her arm.

“What are you doing here?” Lance responded, and Pidge smirked.

“I asked first.” Lance sighed, sulking as he looked to Keith and Shiro for guidance. Shiro shrugged, and Keith was no help to his cause.

“She did.” Lance pouted, turning back to Pidge.

“I’m meeting up with Matt,” he explained, going to stand at Pidge’s side while he stared down at the faintly glowing green goop she was stirring. “But I am far more interested in whatever the hell that is. Keith, Shiro, come look! What kind of magic Pinterest bullshit is this?” Lance didn’t seem to mind the atrocious smell wafting up from the concoction--a result of the fermented lemur oil that was a necessary ingredient.

Shiro walked over at a respectful pace, and Keith ran a little faster to let himself slide into position via his socks on the linoleum. Pidge gritted her teeth and did her best not to laugh upon watching Shiro’s face twist up into something that said he was trying to be supportive but was finding it difficult with the stench accosting his nostrils. Keith was not as diplomatic in his response.

“What the fuck, Pidge?” She shrugged and reached for a pinch of fly legs. Matt always made her add that when it was needed in his own work, so she made fun of him for it. Still, even she couldn’t claim the texture was pleasant.

“I’m trying some vegan recipes out,” she lied as a chunk of some indiscriminate meat floated up to the surface before going back under in a manner that probably did not abide by the rules of physics. It was most likely her thumb of a goblin, harvested herself. The little shits could grow them back in a week or so and stuff like that didn’t cause them pain, so she didn’t feel too bad about it. Besides, they’d gotten plenty of bites in during the scuffle that broke out as a result of her gathering, not to mention the sardine cans they often launched at her when she walked by. As far as Pidge was concerned, they were even. Lance raised a brow. “I cheat sometimes.”

Keith looked ready to call her out for her lie, but Gunther suddenly sprang up and he went sprawling as a result. Lance laughed, Shiro told him he should be a little more observant, and Keith dusted himself off as he grumpily rose to his feet.

“Whatever,” he groused. “Where’s Matt anyways?” As if summoned, and maybe he was, Matt being so good at sensory spells, Pidge heard his clomping footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Here!” he announced, sliding into the kitchen in the same manner Keith had. “Sorry for letting these slinkydinkers into your workspace,” he told her, herding them out with a great sweeping motion of his arm. Pidge cringed. He’d been favoring the term a lot in the past few days, and she couldn’t decide if it was better or worse than tiddlebumps, which was what he’d been using for the fortnight or so previous.

“Out, out! Pidge is an artist, she needs her personal space,” he announced, and meandered over to the stove to see what she had working regardless of his own instruction. For once, despite the smell (which wasn’t bad, as far as potions went that weren’t made by Pidge’s grandma) it actually looked alright, better than alright if one was being generous, and Pidge was smug.

“Looking good. Did they ask anything about it?” Pidge hummed, pulling her spoon from the concoction and smiling as it dripped from the surface at the proper speed for the viscosity she was trying to achieve. She turned the burner to low.

“Lance thinks I’m a Pinterest vegan DIYer, but they seemed to buy it.” Matt laughed.

“I think he thinks you’re a lot more than that if the way he was talking about your incident at the crosswalk the other day is any indication, but whatever you say. You should probably apologize for that, by the way.” Pidge nearly dropped her spoon in surprise.

“What?” she snapped, pivoting to face him, but Matt was already moving past the doorway with a self-satisfied wave as his goodbye.

“See you later, Pidge!” he cried, and the door slammed shut behind him. Pidge wished she had Curtis available to remind her to grill Matt later about what he’d said, but for the time being she needed to bottle up the product of her work. For the first time in what felt like forever in her woefully unlucky experience with magic, things seemed to have gone right.

Pidge wasn’t quite sure how she’d missed the fact that Lance had been friends with Matt for awhile, but once he had shown up once, he kept coming back. Before, something had, apparently, always seemed to come up when they were supposed to meet at their house, so he’d never been mentioned. Pidge supposed she enjoyed the peace while it had lasted, or at least that’s what she said if anyone asked. Truth be told, sometimes it was fun to be on a walk to Allura’s and to see him hopping across rooftops, an alley cat out for a run. Pidge was aware that it was illegal and so was he, but he didn’t seem to care all that much. He told her one day,when Matt had invited her to join in on their Mario Kart game since Hunk and Keith were out on a date and couldn’t make it. Pidge grinned, settled in on the floor next to Lance, and grabbed a remote.

After arguing with Lance over the use of a wheel and if it was necessary--clearly not, the wheel was for quitters--she blue shelled him three times in a single course and while she was impressed with his ability to come back into first every time, she was more satisfied with stealing it out from right under his nose at the last second. Lance pouted, but Matt high fived her and they tucked into a half-eaten carton of Ben and Jerry’s they had lying around afterward so everything worked out alright. Besides, Lance got her back when he landed a nice clump of cookie dough right on top of her head, though he claimed it was by accident. Pidge wasn’t fooled and shook her spoon angrily at him while she swore vengeance.

“You’ll have to fight the security guard at the mall for first dibs on revenge” he teased in response. Shiro, the other addition to their party, leveled a disappointed stare his way.

“Lance, didn’t Varkon threaten to call the cops on you last time you did that?” Lance sighed, rolling his eyes.

“The food court has too many health violations, and I happen to know that he lets a particularly speedy pickpocket go when he’s not up to a chase. He can’t do shit.” Pidge interjected quickly while using a napkin to pat at the ice cream in her hair.

“How do you get away with any of that, anyway? Didn’t he catch you hopping up on the balcony after climbing the Christmas tree last year?” Lance waved her off.

“That was in the past, and yes. Keith thought I couldn’t make it without using the escalator as support, so I had to prove him wrong.” Matt’s spoon scraped the bottom of the carton obnoxiously, though he didn’t seem to care too much.

“Yeah, but be careful, dude. Just because you have freakishly good balance doesn’t mean you’re not gonna topple something over one of these days, and send you down with it.” Lance laughed.

“Yeah, I’m really worried about a traffic light caving under my weight,” he teased, Matt feigned upset, and they laughed. Pidge’s curiosity was piqued. Balance, did he say?

Pidge would just like to say, for the record, Matt was blind and she was gonna’ hold the Lance thing over his head for years. It had started on a rainy day when she’d found Lance scaling an apartment building, hands clutching at the brick and concrete while he perched atop a street lamp to get a grip. Pidge nearly had a heart attack on the spot, seeing him move with very inhuman grace on his way to the roof.

She was well aware that Lance liked the rain--he’d refuse rides home if they were close just so he could walk in it--but this was a little more then a preference for the weather. It was coming down pretty hard, and nothing could convince Pidge that the metal he stood on wasn’t slick, or that it was perfectly normal for him to keep standing, unruffled by the downpour.

She rushed over, standing at the base of the post without actually touching it. Even with her small stature, she wasn’t going to risk having Lance fall.

“What are you doing?” she yelled, getting Lance to look down as a result. It was hard to see in the rain, but she was almost certain that he took a hand off the wall to wave, which didn’t help her feel like he was any more secure.

“Hey, Pidge!” he shouted back, and Pidge cursed the way he smiled. She stamped her foot, a habit that she had picked up jokingly with Matt when they were bickering, but one that stuck. She thought she heard him laugh, and she resisted the angry grandmother in her that wanted to retort by shaking her finger aggressively.

“Get down from there! Are you insane?” Lance shrugged, or at least she thought he did.

“It’s fine! I’ve done this before!” Pidge didn’t like the sound of that. She wondered if there really was more merit in Matt’s claims about Lance endangering his own life then what she gave him credit for.

“Get down!” she commanded him in return, and the way he gripped the pole and slid down it set her on edge. Pidge was bad at pretty much all magic. Creating and casting spells, removing curses, brewing potions, the whole nine yards. However, she prided herself on what Matt affectionately called her “zero bullshit tolerance policy,” meaning that glamours as a whole were incredibly ineffective on her. Therefore, Lance wasn’t one of the fair folk, and she didn’t smell any wolf on him. He was far too fond of the beach to be a vampire, and he was certainly not a goblin or a troll or any other thing that had thrown a variety of rotten fruit at her. There were other options, but mostly Pidge was forming the opinion that Lance was just weird.

Pidge watched him walk over to her, a smile plastered on his face in spite of the fact that he was drenched.

“You know, that whole foot stamping thing might be endearing if you didn’t look like you actually want to murder me, sewer rat,” he announced, and Pidge glared sharply at him. Lance’s smile widened. “And you continue to prove my point,” he teased. Pidge sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose while moving closer to shelter Lance under her umbrella with her.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him playfully and quirked a brow when Lance moved out from under the cover she provided. At her curiosity, Lance shrugged.

“I don’t mind the rain. It’s nice, soothing, kinda’. I always feel better when it rains,” he told her in his defense. She sighed but figured it wasn’t her business if Lance wanted to ruin his hair and have it return to its natural curls.

“Where are you off to?” she asked, beginning to walk again towards the coffee shop that had been her intended destination. She could drive, she had her own car, but she didn’t do sports and her mom was a health nut, so unless she had a lot to carry she was firmly instructed to walk on down to where she wanted to be. With her newfound progress, she wanted to get a drink, sit on one of the funky little tables they had, and look through her spellbook to see if she couldn’t find something a little more complicated to test out. Lance responded, she could hear it as background noise, but Pidge’s attention was stolen away as her eyes slid back to him and she saw that he was glowing.

Not to a normal eye, he wasn’t, and it was subtle enough that she couldn’t notice without focusing out of the corner of her eye, but it was certainly there. Pidge was a smart girl--she’d understood all the technicalities of magic for years, it was the practical use that didn’t really work out--and she understood what was up real quick after the revelation.

She doubted Lance knew, but he or someone in his family must’ve gotten a boon from one of the fair folk at some point. A water inclined one if she had to hazard a guess based on what she’d seen of Lance. Element aside, it seemed to give him a good bit of luck that rubbed off on himself and others. Pidge hadn’t initially realized it because she did have some semblance of confidence in her skills as a witch, but it was always when Lance was lounging around the house that her spells and charms seemed to work right. Not surprising, and Pidge wasn’t sensitive enough to take it to heart. However, she was enjoying all that she could do with him around. With that in mind, she stopped in the street and placed a hand on Lance’s arm.

“Hey Lance,” she drawled carefully and did her best to pretend that she wasn’t trying to schmooze him into spending time with her for no reason other than to help with what he presumed were random homemade medications. He looked down at her, and she pretended not to notice that her shirt was getting soaked too simply from contact with Lance. “I realize we kinda got off on the wrong foot, mostly because I was an asshole, sorry about that.” Pidge had been trying to get him alone for weeks to apologize, but she was never sure how to phrase it right. She hoped what she’d put together in the three minutes they’d been talking was alright. She wasn’t great with that sort of thing.

“Putting that aside, how do you feel about helping me with some of my, uh, DIYs?” She hoped she didn’t stumble too badly over her words. It was weird referring to things from her mother’s prized spell book--worn and creased in all the right ways from years of careful use--as mere crafts. She expected to have to persuade Lance, but to both her surprise and delight he merely shrugged.

“Sure.” She grinned, and Lance held up a finger to stay her enthusiasm for a moment. “But, we have to stop at my house first. I need a change of clothes. You should probably stay down the block for that one.” He paused for a moment, and Pidge supposed he was thinking. “I want my good blanket too. I figure I’m just moral support since I have the artistic skills of a five year old holding a crayon in their non-dominant hand, so at the very least I want to be cozy.” Pidge nodded. The detour was not convenient, exactly, but it could be expected.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, deal,” she agreed, and only just paid attention to Lance’s warnings as they worked back to his house. Pidge was beyond excited to finally have working magic.

Magic was not worth it.

Lance had told her to stay put, but Pidge was stubborn and insisted upon coming along to help him carry his things. Lance tried to argue with her, but Pidge put her hands on her hips and leveled him with a stare that told him any resistance was a waste of time, so he sighed and brought her along for the ride.

The first thing she registered upon entering the house was that it was loud. There were kids running around, that almost instantly plastered themselves to Lance’s legs. From the kitchen, she heard someone yelling in Spanish, far too fast for her two years worth of classes to make out. The kids, a boy, and a girl unlatched from Lance’s legs, and swarmed Pidge instead, yelling questions out of gap-toothed smiles.

“Tío has a girlfriend!” The girl shouted, brown eyes sparkling. Pidge’s eyes widened, and Lance was quick to slip his hands around her waist, fingers moving to tickle her. She dropped to the floor in a fit of giggles.

“Don’t be rude, Ceci,” he admonished, but the quirk at the corner of his lips betrayed his lack of intent. Pidge was startled to hear footsteps, and then a commanding voice, though it was not unkind in nature.

“What are you two little bugs doing?” The kids--and the male was still crowding Lance, shaking his shoulders while he tickled Ceci--startled, looking up towards the source of the sound.

“Mama!” they cried and abandoned the two of them to rush her. “We weren’t doing anything bad, promise!” The woman who had spoken laughed and ruffled their hair.

“Sure, you weren’t. Who’s this, Lance?” she asked. Lance straightened up, brushing the dirt off himself after landing on the floor. His clothes were still sopping wet.

“Veronica, Pidge. Pidge, this is my sister Veronica, and her kids, Cecilia and Emil,” he introduced them. Veronica waved, seemingly oblivious to her kids teasing one another on either side of her.

“Nice to meet you,” Pidge greeted politely, unsure of how to deal with the whirlwind of commotion. Her own house could get rowdy and she understood that it was summer, but that didn’t stop her shock upon being thrust into such an environment.

“Likewise,” Veronica replied, and shooed the kids towards the kitchen. “Go on, Lance will be around later,” she promised, and they ran off with a last glance back at them. She didn’t miss the way Ceci cackled after an indignant cry rose up from Emil, or so Pidge assumed, somewhere beyond where she could presently see.

“I gotta’ get a change of clothes,” he confessed, motioning to himself. “Keep an eye on Pidge for me while I get dressed?” he asked, and Veronica nodded quickly.

“Yeah, no problem. Hurry up, though. Mom’s gonna get mad if you leave a puddle on her new rug.” Lance yelped and tore off and up the stairs while his sister laughed.

“Sorry about intruding, I didn’t think I’d cause such a commotion,” Pidge admitted a little sheepishly once Lance was gone. Veronica waved her off, leaning against the wall.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. The twins get excited about Lance no matter the circumstances. You’re just a bonus,” she teased, and though they’d only just met Pidge found she didn’t mind. She laughed, and after a bit of silence that followed once the utterance quieted, Veronica spoke again.

“So, how’d you stumble across him?” Pidge shrugged and decided to skim over some details in her explanation.

“Oh, we bumped into each other around town, and then had some mutual friends. Nothing all that exciting.” Veronica nodded and stared down the way he’d gone.

“He doesn’t bring people around here too often. Kinda’ cool that he let you in, not gonna’ lie,” she admitted, only to be overpowered by some commotion in the background. A rougher, more irate tone. Pidge could hear the twins’ names being mentioned somewhere in the midst of the scolding that appeared to be taking place, all in Spanish. Veronica’s mood soured, if the scowl on her face was any indication.

“Hey, Pidge, why don’t you wait outside?” she asked, but Pidge knew it was the sort of demand that was more politely phrased as a suggestion. It was still raining, but Pidge was good at telling when she wasn’t wanted. Veronica practically pushed her out the door, hands warm on her shoulders as she steered her. “I’ll send Lance out when he’s done,” she told her quickly and slammed the door. Pidge frowned. She’d always been too curious for her own good, but she at least respected Lance enough to tamp down her own inquisitive nature. Her foot tapped impatiently, and she did her best not to let her interest show when Lance stalked out the door.

“Let’s go.” He took her wrist in his, not a tight grip, but not idle either, and where Veronica’s palms had been soft and smooth on her freckled skin, exposed from her tank top, his were a little calloused. Like the rest of him, his fingers were long and nimble, skin pale under his finely curved nails. They looked worlds better than Pidge’s own, bitten from nerves and stained with different ingredients. She didn’t argue with him, and soon his grip faded to a mere memory while he made for her place.

They walked in silence for a ways, and Pidge watched as the farther they got away from his house and whoever the voice had belonged to, the tenseness went out of his shoulders and his posture slackened. She’d never seen Lance, who waltzed into her place and flopped on the couch like a sack of potatoes, uncomfortable before, and it set her on edge.

“You know if you ever need to get out for awhile, you can always come over.” Pidge tried to force a casualness into the pitch of her voice that she didn’t feel, kicking a puddle to top it off. She stole a glance at Lance out of the corner of her eye and was pleased to see his lips curl just enough to form a real smile.

“Thanks, Pidge.”

Pidge tried to squash down the happy little thrill that ran through her as he moved closer to her for the rest of the way.

They spent the rest of that afternoon, and many more, holed up in the Holt family kitchen and basement, where Pidge finally was able to do some magic and Lance pet Gunther a lot. Lance didn’t ask questions, just laid back and let her leech off the luck that seeped from him in waves. Pidge had tried to figure out what he had done to win such a fantastic boon, but as it turned out, Lance was more altruistic than previously thought. She had asked him once, shortly after going to get coffee together during a break, and seeing him pay for the other three customers in line behind them with a fifty, as well as telling the cashier to keep the change as a tip.

“Do you do stuff like that often?” Lance merely shrugged, sipping his latte on the way back to her house, stomping purposely in a puddle that had formed from a dip in the old sidewalk. Pidge found she didn’t mind too much when some of the splashes hit her ankles. Lance liked making messes, especially if it involved water. Pidge was a fan of organized chaos herself and had gotten used to it after a time as long as Lance cleaned up after himself.

“What do you mean?” he asked, and she both stopped and stared at him disbelievingly as he continued to walk, seemingly oblivious to the strangeness of his own answer. She had to pump her smaller legs fast to catch up with him again.

“You know, doing nice stuff out of the blue.” Pidge had originally felt guilty for using him, even if he wasn’t aware, to make her spells work, but when he started raiding her stash of water bottles and protein bars in her room--supplied by her parents for when she got wrapped up in her latest hyperfixation, and wouldn’t come down for meals--she figured he was getting something out of it after all. Besides, he seemed to like playing with Gunther, and Pidge bought him Pixie Sticks too as a bribe. She didn’t understand how he could so easily eat the pure sugar--she liked salty snacks herself--but when she asked he merely shrugged and dumped another one down his throat. Candy aside, she’d realized pretty early on after her initial irritation had faded, that Lance was a good person. He just didn’t seem to be aware of the fact.

“Nah. Back there really wasn’t a big deal, don’t worry about it too much, sewer rat,” he told her flippantly, but Pidge was skeptical. One night when she and Hunk were left at her house after Lance and Keith went out for a run together, she inquired into the subject again. This time, she got the answer she was looking for.

“Oh, he’s notorious for that sort of thing. He downplays it, but he’d do anything for anyone, as long as he sees they need help. I was with him one day and he found the weirdest cat in an alley. I mean, it looked alright aside from the weird ears--they were all pointed and bald--but its eyes were blue, like, really blue. It had a paw stuck in a mousetrap, don’t ask me why, because I don’t know, but Lance took it home to fix it up.” Hunk’s nose wrinkled.

Pidge liked disorganization, but Hunk was a fan of order and cleanliness, which made sense considering his handmade labels for everything in his kitchen. He did most of the cooking around his house since his mom had gotten injured at work. He didn’t appear to mind much, at the very least, and Pidge listened as he went on. “I told him not to, disease and all, not to mention his dad hates animals, but he wouldn’t listen. I think he managed to hide it in his room for a week or something before his dad found the cans of food in recycling, but Lance said the cat was gone before he ever saw it in person.” Pidge frowned at the mention of Lance’s dad. What was with that? Still, Hunk wasn’t finished.

“I mean, that’s probably a good thing. You should’ve seen the teeth on that thing, looked like a shark, I swear. I mean Lance said it was sweet, but I don’t trust that. He’s weirdly good with animals.” Pidge took the information in stride, aside from a concerning detail that kept popping up. She interrupted Hunk, who was still going on about the cat. Definitely one of the fair folk, and an apparently predatory one at that. How Lance wasn’t dead, she didn’t know.

“Lance is safe with his dad, right?” she blurted and flushed resultantly at her own brashness. She was never very eloquent, and everyone, including herself, knew that. Hunk startled for a moment at her words, and she saw his eyes narrow, hands balled into fists.

“He’s never hit him, or anybody else in his family, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied, but wouldn’t meet Pidge’s eyes. If she could’ve frowned harder, she would’ve.

“And?” Hunk balked, his eyes going to the door. Pidge presumed what he was thinking.

“Knowing them, they’ll get into some sort of race and they’ll be another ten minutes,” she suggested. She wanted to know what was going on. Hunk looked back at her, sighing.

“If you ever tell him I told you, I’m gonna’ tell him you have a crush on him,” he threatened. Pidge blushed to the tips of her ears, shoving her face into a decorator pillow her mom had on the couch, handmade by a banshee friend she’d had in college.

“I do not have a crush on him,” she protested. Hunk hummed knowingly, letting Pidge in on exactly what he thought of her denial.

“Maybe you haven’t admitted it yet, but I’ve read your diary. You show all the signs,” he declared smugly. Pidge gasped, glaring at Hunk from across the couch.

“You read my diary?” She didn’t understand how, she had several nasty hexes just waiting to be unleashed if anyone other than herself tried to open it, but Hunk was nosy and meticulous and she wasn’t surprised that he’d found a way around that, even unaware that the spells were there. Hunk nodded unashamedly.

“And I’d do it again. Promise me you won’t tell Lance.” He held out his pinky for good measure. Pidge sighed and wrapped her own around it without complaint.

“Say you promise.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Fine, I promise,” she huffed at last, and that seemed to finally placate Hunk, who pulled away and gathered his thoughts for a few long moments before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Lance’s dad isn’t violent, physically, but he’s always been pretty harsh on Lance’s family, and Lance receives the brunt of it. When he was a kid and even now then and again, he made him do all the yard work by himself, made him stay up way too late studying, and then would yell at him when he got a bad grade anyway because he was so tired.” Pidge knew Hunk to be petty over small things, knew he bickered lightly without too much prompting, and knew he and Lance had some sort of weird friendship that let them have entire conversations via incomprehensible hand gestures, but Pidge did not know him as someone prone to anger. When she stared at him at present his dark eyes smoldered with it, his hands clenched into fists while the muscles in his arms strained dangerously.

“Lance can get out of the house a lot more now that it’s summer, but still.” Hunk still looked livid, and Pidge was secretly grateful he didn’t get mad more often. Hunk was outwardly soft, but at his core, he was undeniably strong. They lapsed into silence after that, and when Keith and Lance came back in, arguing over the pronunciation of milk (which Lance said he was the superior authority on, since Keith couldn’t even drink it without locking himself in the bathroom for an hour), Pidge paid a little more attention to his little quirks and oddities. She didn’t want to miss anything that big again.

Not that Pidge would ever tell Hunk, because as angelic as was when hefting Keith onto his shoulders or cuddling up to Lance along with his boyfriend on their group movie nights, he held onto information that proved his points, and she definitely had a not so small crush on Lance. In her defense, she wasn’t sure when it had started. They spend a lot of time together, having him hold down the reeds she was working on twining together for a charm, or letting her prop her spell book up on his back.

He’d informed her that his opinion of her had changed from Pinterest fanatic to boho hippie, and apparently stuck with that line of thought despite the fact that Pidge insisted that her assortment of stained overalls and graphic tees--with the occasional dress, she liked the way they felt swishing around her legs--was more grunge than anything. He waved her off and kissed Gunther’s forehead.

“Hippie,” he told her, completely disregarding her use of logic. Pidge couldn’t even take another stab at refuting the claim, because she was sprinkling crushed unicorn hoof around her room as a ward. She’d been pestering the goblins more than usual lately, and they were getting more persistent. She probably deserved a good mud clod to the face, but she was avoiding that for as long as she could. It wasn’t until she’d finally decided he was really and truly oblivious enough to take to Allura’s shop that she noticed how cute he was, curious face illuminated by the faintly luminescent crystals she had hanging on her walls.

As to what they were, Pidge wasn’t sure. Allura officially called herself a witch but she had a good shot of faery in her, and that kind of heritage let her use all sorts of freaky magic that Pidge didn’t even want to know about. She supposed it didn’t matter in the end because soon enough Lance caught her staring like an idiot, and flashed a smile that had his cheek dimpling in the most perfect way. Pidge knew she was a goner. When she went to check out, Allura seemed to see her blush still remaining from the incident, and grinned devilishly, shoving one of the crystals at Lance.

“Here!” she proclaimed, wrapping it up with some cord, faster than what Pidge had previously thought possible, to form a necklace. “It’s on the house. Pidge shops here all the time, it’s the least I could do,” she reassured Lance when he tried to protest. When Pidge glowered at her on the way out, she merely winked while her scales--passed off as tattoos to those like Lance--flashed in the light.

Lance then proceeded to crush whatever shreds of Pidge’s dignity were left, by wearing the pendant constantly, claiming it brought out his eyes. Pidge’s sudden interest in potions again, which she’d abandoned quickly after her luck turned in search of more exciting opportunities, had nothing to do with the fact that any redness in her face could be chalked up to heat from steam, if anybody went asking. When Hunk did, she flipped him off and buried her face in another pillow. Why her?

Pidge was not prepared, in any way, shape, or form, for the panic she felt on her walk back from Coran’s--Allura’s uncle, for all intents and purposes. His shop was farther away for her, but also had a wider variety than his niece’s, mostly because Coran somehow made friends with nearly everyone he met and had about every ingredient under the sun as a result. She had her phone on mute most of the time, almost entirely because she got distracted easily when whatever she was working on smelled bad, and then things burned and everything just got ten times worse. She wasn’t planning to check it, taking the three bags hanging off her arms into consideration, but she started wondering about how long one of her poultices had been fermenting and got it out to check. Instead, she was greeted with a wall of texts and missed calls, from Shiro, Hunk, Matt, and Keith, but no Lance. Had they planned to meet up today and she’d forgotten? She scrolled through the messages and clicked Shiro’s contact to call at random. He picked up halfway through the first ring.

“Do you know where Lance is?” he asked before Pidge could even ask what was going on. Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins.

“What, no! Why? What’s wrong?” she took a detour into an alley, setting her bags down to press her free hand over her ear in order to hear Shiro better. There was a pause on his end of the line, and when he finally spoke he sounded frantic

“Hunk got a call from him about a half hour ago, and he sounded like a mess. He’d been crying, by Hunk’s guess, and he could hardly understand a word Lance was saying. He hung up pretty quick, apparently, and nobody’s heard word from him since.” Pidge felt a drop of water hit her cheek shortly after Shiro finished filling her in, and looked up to see that the clouds that had been lurking towards the edges of the sky earlier in the day were now knitting ominously together. Pidge gathered her bags again, crushing her phone between her shoulder and her ear. Shiro was still talking.

“When he gets upset sometimes he does stupid stuff, tries tricks or to climb things that he needs someone watching his back for. Keith has checked all their usual spots, but he isn’t at any of them.” Pidge listened raptly, scouring her brain for anything that might remind her of where he could be. She swung by Allura’s shop--she promised to keep an eye out, but she hadn’t seen him--the coffee house they went when her house got too stifling--also nothing--and arrived back at her house a nervous mess, running her fingers haphazardly through her damp hair. Where would an upset Lance have run off to? She crouched on her bedroom floor, sticking her hands under her bed to drag out the tub of miscellaneous odds and ends she’d pre-made, or just things that she couldn’t use immediately.

She had to have something that would help, right? Something that could help her track, or even just keep Lance safe. Her hands delved into the mess, and at last, she came up with a few ear drops, or what was supposed to be used like ear drops, anyway. She twisted the cap off, ignoring the oddly colored flakes of dried goop that came with it. That likely meant she’d made it before Lance had shown up, but it wasn’t awful enough for her to throw out. She ignored the fact that that didn’t exactly mean it worked, let alone well. Pidge vaguely remembered that it had something to do with memory, and that was good enough for her. She tipped her head to the side and did her best not to cringe at the wetness that followed a light squeeze of the container.

When she straightened back up, she found herself surrounded by a barrage of clamoring voices, snippets of conversation she’d heard ever since Lance came into her life.

“Sewer rat-”

“Are you insane?”

“What kind of magic Pinterest bullshit-”

Pidge shook her head, though it pounded with the commotion and she bit back a whimper. She had to focus.

“Always been pretty harsh-”

“What the fuck-”

And then, at last, what she had subjected herself to the experience for.

“You know if you ever need to get out for awhile, you can always come over.”

At once her mind was calm, and Pidge let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. However, a thought occurred to her rather quickly. If Lance was supposed to be at her house, where was he? She glanced slowly around her room, but her eyes snagged on her window. Lance, for how obnoxious he was, was never rude. He wouldn’t have let himself in. She glanced out and down and saw what she was expecting. Huddled against the side of the house was a figure in a white shirt, plastered to his body from the rain.

Pidge launched herself down the stairs and out the back door, tripping over her own feet in the process, waving frantically to Lance to come in. When he stood in the kitchen, she draped towels and blankets over him while he shivered, and clutched the pendant Allura had given him so hard his knuckles shone white.

Pidge sat him on the couch when he was properly dried, shooting texts off to the rest of their friends to let them know Lance was safe. When she had finished, she looked at him. He avoided her gaze, but his thumb stroked the side of the crystal rhythmically. She didn’t try to reach out to him, not yet.

“You wanna’ talk about it?” she asked. She’d never been very good with emotions or words, and, of course, the two combined were even worse. Lance shrugged.

“What’s there to talk about? You said I could come over whenever I needed a break, right? Everything was just too loud over at my place.” His voice was sharp, wielded sloppily like a poorly balanced blade. It wasn’t like his normal easy laughs and crooked but well-intentioned grins. Pidge took that as her cue to offer a hand to him. Lance was touchy, she knew that well enough from all the times she saw him huddled up to Hunk, but they’d never done much. As it happened, Lance latched on without much hesitation.

“That’s fine,” Pidge told him with a shrug. “Sorry for assuming.” She knew very well Lance was lying, and after a second his lip trembled anyways and his eyes got glassy. He scooted a little closer, and when Pidge hesitantly dropped his hand to open her arms welcomingly, he moved into her embrace without further prompting. His hair was curly after being out in the rain, and Pidge decided she didn’t mind how it felt against the skin of her neck. She rubbed his back, unsure at first, and then more steady when Lance didn’t move away.

“I’m not too loud, right?” he asked after a moment. Pidge sucked in a breath and wondered if it was too late to make amends with the dumpster goblins, if only to send them on over to Lance’s dad.

“No, no, of course not, Lance.” She was planning on going on, but Lance had more questions.

“Am I useless? Stupid? Lazy? A nuisance?” It broke Pidge’s heart, hearing him go on while damp spots formed on her shirt, tears dripping off Lance’s chin that rested on her shoulder. His voice cracked on the last word, and she held him a little tighter.

“No, you’re amazing, Lance. A great friend and we all think so. We like having you around.” Lance sniffed, and Pidge wished she knew what to do other than continuing to press him to her, keeping him safe. It was a long time before Lance spoke again, long enough for Pidge’s eyes to grow heavy and for Lance’s shirt to dry out more. Pidge wasn’t great with physical affection, but she liked the feeling of Lance locked into place with her, the tips of his long fingers toying with the ends of her hair, short and strange as it was. His other arm was around her waist, not harsh in his grip, but firm. Like she was his anchor in a churning sea. Pidge wanted to be there for him, to be the one to keep him steady.

“You’re really something else, sewer rat” he whispered, and she could tell from the way his words slurred that he was tired too.

“So are you.” She let the name slide without complaint, the tension long gone out of her limbs, allowing her to properly relax on the couch with him. “Don’t let anyone, even for a second, tell you anything else.”

Matt had woken them that time when he returned home from Shiro’s several hours later, thankfully before their parents got home from work. Ever since the day they spent holding one another, there seemed to be an understanding between them. When Pidge got snappish, skittish and tired of having people around, Lance cleared room for her and set himself up a respectable distance away. When Lance was feeling particularly frustrated, stagnant and full of energy he wasn’t able to properly release, Pidge called him over to help her tie charms and organize ingredients. Busywork, but it gave Lance something to do and that was all he really wanted.

Still, Pidge was worried something was wrong. As of late, Lance had been shooting her looks when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, a kind she didn’t know how to respond to, or understand the motivation behind. His eyes would soften at the corners but grow dark, a little wild, and his brows knitted together, almost like he was concerned, but not quite. It sent Pidge’s stomach into a series of flips every time. She couldn’t seem to get close to him like she had that day, either.

She tried, rented movies they’d talked about seeing together, but Lance always sat on the floor with a blanket, despite how much room there was on the couch. Pidge was at a loss, and she bemoaned her struggles to Matt, who was a good big brother and let her waltz on into his room while he played video games or did homework for his online summer classes. She flopped onto his bed and vented her frustrations, which sent Matt into fits of laughter that she never expected, but was always frustrated by. She bit her lip, glancing at her phone every few seconds. It always made her lose her place in the spellbook she was finally getting around to using--she’d bought it forever ago, but without Lance’s luck had never been able to work with it--but she was expecting Lance, and he was late.

He was never late.

Lance was always on time, if not early, and it was not unusual to see him arrive with some sort of housewarming gift to boot. Pidge did wonder if that had anything to do with his upbringing but never asked. By the time the doorbell finally rang, Pidge was a jittery mess. She hopped up and all but sprinted to get it.

“It took you long enough!” she announced, seeing him standing on the front porch. It was raining again, and Lance’s hair was curling again. Pidge tried not to blush, and Lance stepped inside. Was it her imagination, or did he seem more put together than normal?

“Nice to see you too, sewer rat,” he told her with a laugh, and then shifted a little on his feet in a nervous manner that wasn’t at all like him. Pidge felt her stomach plummet. Had she done something? Lance did seem to be distancing himself, what if they hadn’t made as much progress as she’d thought? Pidge tried to smile despite her worries, motioning to the kitchen.

“Well, come on. I have this thing that-” Lance cut her off.

“Actually, I kinda had something in mind for today,” he admitted, and Pidge froze, already halfway to the stove. She threw her shoulders back, feigning nonchalance.

“Oh, yeah, that works too,” she agreed quickly. Lance flashed a quick smile, but it was nothing like his normal ones that could light up a room. Then, he looked at the ground and moved towards the door.

“The others should be here soon,” he informed her, and Pidge tried not to panic. Maybe she really had done something. They hadn’t discussed inviting anyone else along, it was supposed to just be them. The final straw was Lance’s hand on the doorknob, saying,

“Maybe I should just wait out-” Pidge raced forward, going to his side.

“Lance, are you mad at me?” she asked. She felt horribly childish doing so, but he was just being so weird, she couldn’t help it. His face went blank, before morphing into one of complete and utter surprise.

“What?”

“Are you mad? I know it’s a dumb question, but I thought we were close and recently you’ve just been, well, off I guess? I don’t know and I get that it’s probably dumb but I really like having you around and everything even just as a friend and I don’tknowwhatyou’redoingbut-” Pidge thought she might spontaneously combust, as Lance doubled over, laughing wildly.

“Hunk said you wouldn’t notice anything but I thought I was being so obvious, how could you not?” He snorted, and Pidge cursed herself for thinking it was cute. Over the top of his shirt, the crystal glowed steadily.

“I’m sorry?” She didn’t understand. What was he going on about? Why was Hunk involved? Oh, my god, had he told Lance about her crush?

“I was finally gonna’ ask you out today, Pidge,” he told her slowly. Pidge blinked a few times, staring up at Lance in disbelief, and then she felt a patchy blush spreading up her neck and cheeks. She was going to die on the spot. End of story, no questions asked. How was she supposed to react? She’d never done this before, and her normally infallible mind was not computing. Lance’s expression fell.

“It’s cool if you don’t want to, though! I’ll just go, and we can pretend like this never happened or whatever.” Pidge saw him tearing up, and all of a sudden she had her arms around his neck, clinging to him like a koala on steroids, as Lance would say when he affectionately recounted the incident later. The only problem was that she had meant to just hug him, but she didn’t expect to jump quite as high as she did. In a grand clashing of teeth and also foreheads, Pidge and Lance shared their first kiss. Lance’s arms caught around her waist, keeping her in place when they pulled back to dissolve into laughter.

Between fits of giggles, Pidge reached out to examine Lance’s face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. You okay?” Lance nodded, despite the way his lips were starting to swell a little from the force of the impact.

“You’re something else, Pidge.” She gave him another kiss, not quite on the lips but it was in the general jurisdiction and that was good enough for her. About the time she started slipping from his arms--in all fairness, he didn’t have a lot of time to catch her before her koala grip would’ve failed her--Hunk and Matt burst through the door wiedling cameras, Shiro and Keith following shortly after with a massive bouquet of rubber rats.

Pidge fell on the floor because she ended up laughing too hard, and somewhere in the midst of Hunk’s string of expletives--they missed the whole thing goddamnit Lance--she caught Lance’s eye. The wink he threw in her direction upset Pidge’s growing, tenuous grasp on nonverbal magic and ended with a few slammed cupboards in the kitchen, but if anyone noticed, they didn’t say a thing.

#pidge #lance #plance #langst #vldshipexchange #ambivalentlangst #ambi exchanges

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10ratsinahat · 7 years ago

Photo

This is my gift for @princessmuk during the @vldshipexchange

It’s summertime and Keith hangs out with the local merman Lance who likes to talk a lot. They eventually enjoy each other’s company. Also Lance likes to sneak in a smooch once in a while. I enjoyed working on the piece! Also the water was fun to create lmao

#vldshipexchange #vld ship exchange #klance #keith vld #lance vld #laith #aquaart

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ecccentrick · 7 years ago

Link

I’m the pinch hitter for @manifestmerlin! To make up for how long you had to wait before a pinch hitter was assigned, I made you a playlist and a fic! I’d like to thank @belovedsheith and @ambivalentlangst for going over both of the fic and playlist (and helping me pick a title for the fic since it ended up being a mix of both suggestions), and @sir-scandalous for allowing me to use their edit!!

A Causality of Poetry – a Shance fic

Lance will never claim to be poetic, but he knows something about poetic irony. He was so eager to be a hero, to be loved by many, to inspire like Shiro had inspired him. He wanted to fly through space, to discover new worlds and new creatures. But, now, sitting in the cockpit of the Red Lion, eyes closed and head heavy with lack of sleep, the glamor and glory has long worn off. He’s gotten everything he wanted and more, but maybe that makes everything less somehow.

He’s not complaining. He loves being a local hero to many enslaved peoples, and fighting alongside his friends that have quickly become his space family. There is still an echo, a chasm, inside his chest that threatens to swallow him whole when he thinks of his Earth family, but it is dulled by the many battles and little rest. Zarkon may be dead, Lotor on their side (debatable), but a grip such as the Galran regime’s does not easily relent.

Cracking his neck, then his back, down to his knuckles, Lance opens up the comm. “I am alive and well! Tears are now no longer necessary. I know you all missed me.”

“Lance, you were gone for five minutes. In the hangar. We knew you were fine,” Pidge says. “You need to head out now, no more stalling.”

“Sure thing, Pidgeon.” He hears Red growl in his mind, protective. He pats her dashboard, “She’s just grumpy because she hasn’t heard back from that alien from Uaua.”

“I heard that,” she snaps. Her breath makes a whooshing sound against his ear. “Be careful, idiot.”

A small smile curves its way onto his lips, gentle as it is fragile. He is used to the subtle tells of emotions from his teammates, even from Keith. Pidge tells you she cares about you through a mouthful of glass, crunching it around the soft words until the sharp edges are worn smooth. Unless you were her family, of course. Hunk is always affectionate to those he cares about, with bear hugs and snacks and the way he can easily show you his anxiety without fear of ridicule. Keith is distant, but once he cares about someone (Shiro, the most) he will run headfirst into danger if needed. Allura tries to be tough, the princess everyone needs, but her warmth drips through the cracks of her facade in smiles and guidance. Coran, surprisingly, is strict with his emotions; his tells are when he refers to you with your name, not your given number.

Shiro…well, Lance is still trying to figure that one out. He has only had brief glimpses beyond those of a leader caring for his team, not the real Shiro who loses his temper and jokes around. But Lance has always enjoyed a challenge.

–

Lance catches a glimpse during training. Sparring is a common exercise nowadays, now that they have their teamwork mostly down. Lance is usually paired with Hunk, another long range fighter, forcing them to learn hand-to-hand more quickly since they’re not allowed to use their bayards. But this time, this time Lance is personally paired with Shiro, and allowed to use his Altean broad sword. He’s still not exactly sure how to use it, beyond muscle memory that he has to not be thinking to rely on, which is hard to ask of Lance on most occasions. Here, facing Shiro, he is thinking too much, mind racing. He was excited and now he knows he can’t come close to beating Shiro. But, perhaps, that is not the goal.

He immediately goes into his fighting stance, strong now, thanks to the many times Allura knocked him on his ass. Shiro doesn’t even bother activating his Galran arm; he thinks he can take Lance with just his hands, and as hot frightening that is, Lance wants to prove him wrong. Knock him off his feet.

Lance waits until Shiro comes to him, surprising the Black Paladin, and barely dodges the resulting jab. He blocks the next hit with the expanse of his sword, moving back and forward and to the side like a strange and primal dance. Over and over, until Shiro catches on, almost kicking Lance’s legs right out from under him. He uses his sword to balance, stands, and charges at Shiro with all that he has, legs burning. Shiro’s eyes widen, and he seems frozen there, captivated by something. The strange spell is broken mid swing, and Shiro uses his arm to block him, the force of it knocking Lance down and therefore defeating him.

“Heh,” Lance says, smug. “I got you to use your glowy arm! I lost but I still won!”

There is a resistant grin on Shiro’s lips, revealing his dimple and making it more pronounced. He offers a hand to Lance, and he takes it, his palm slotting against Shiro’s nicely. “Good work, Lance,” Shiro says, his opposite hand moving to Lance’s waist, gone as soon as it appears.

–

Later, he mentally catalogues it. Shiro is affectionate, in subtle ways, like a feather’s touch to your side.

Maybe he is a bit poetic.

–

Lance, despite outward appearances, is in touch with his emotions. This doesn’t mean that he doesn’t ignore said emotions, once he identifies them, of course. He packs them away in neat boxes of humor and deflection, until he’s alone and safe to process a sea of conflicting feelings. Today, he’s having issues keeping a lid on his self-pity, seeing the visiting Keith cosy up with Shiro. Being as in touch as he is with his offending emotion, he knows that he is angry at Keith for no reason, and Shiro deserves to spend time with his close friend. Very…very close friend.

Instead of badgering them, he overcompensates with humor; he should get a selfless medal, really.

“What do you call a haunted creamery?”

Hunk sighs. “What do you call a haunted creamery, Lance?”

“A screamery! Get it?! Because–”

“Because it’s scary, yes, we understand.” Pidge facepalms, on her glasses and all.

Lance blows a raspberry at her, rolling his eyes. “I see which sibling sucked all the humor outta the womb.”

“Matt wouldn’t even find that funny! That’s just going too far.”

“Actually,” Shiro says, standing next to Lance. Lance jumps, having not noticed the Paladin sidle up next to him. “Matt loves cheese, so he’d probably find that hilarious. On the Kerberos mission, he whined about how much he missed dairy.”

Shiro is smiling, a true smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling endearingly. He actually finds it funny, holy crow! Lance shares the grin, while Pidge looks on knowingly and Hunk talks about what he could make that could replicate cheese for the next time Matt visits. Behind Shiro, Keith nods at Lance, smiling the same smile as leave the math to Pidge. It feels strangely like approval. It doesn’t make sense.

–

Puns are a way to Shiro’s heart, Lance remembers later, when he’s alone. Another bullet point on an ever-growing list.

–

As cliche as it sounds, the realization he has been slowly walking towards becomes starkly clear when he almost dies. His sword is knocked out of his hands, a gash on his forehead dripping blood into his eyes, searing tears making his sight even more muted. A former Galran general grins, his fangs wet with red, a matching bite mark present on Lance’s shoulder. He’s never seen such an animalistic fighter, and it trips Lance up; he’s used to sequences, like dancing, sans freestyle. The steps to this dance of death are unclear to him, and it only makes his heart beat harder, pumping blood through the gash on his face. He has very little chance of turning the tide without help.

There is no rhythm to this Galran’s attacks. Lance stumbles, fighting to even stay standing. The battle seems already lost, but he can’t give up. He can’t let the others down. Not now. He searches his surroundings as quickly and sees his chance.

“What?” Lance asks. “No evil speeches or gloating?”

The General just growls, but takes the bait. As he runs towards Lance, Lance stays put, ducking at the last moment, going between the Galran’s legs, grabbing his sword. His line of sight is momentarily cleared, showing Shiro backed up to a wall by a druid. His decision is made, right then, as he throws his sword with everything he has, hitting its mark.

“LANCE!” Pidge screams, but he’s already knocked out, hit on the head from behind. His last moments of consciousness is the feeling of being dragged against the hard floor, and then being freed, cradled.

–

He comes to, not falling from the cryopod, but lying down. His head still hurts, cuts bleeding sluggishly, but at least his eyes no longer burn, and the smell of blood is faint, a metallic aftertaste. Shiro doesn’t look much better, his armor dirty and stained red from what Lance assumes is his blood.

“Hey,” Shiro says, relief coloring his voice. His hand is around Lance’s, splayed on his lap. Lance blinks.

“Hey back,” he replies. His voice is scratchy and not the least bit pleasant. That general will rue the day they battled if Lance’s beautiful voice is left tarnished. And he might’ve said that aloud, because Shiro laughs.

“Your voice will always be beautiful.”

Lance’s eyes bulge. He attempts to sit up, but gets dizzy. Shiro is there to steady him, leaning him back in his former position. “You hit your head, and Coran says that we have to wait a few vargas to make sure there isn’t too much damage, since the cryopod is finicky with head injuries.”

His face falls. The hand in Shiro’s feels leaden. “Oh, so I must be hearing things. . ,” he says, the pain and disappointment loosening his otherwise sealed lips.

“No, you aren’t mistaken.” To his grand surprise, Shiro blushes, down his neck and up to the roots of his bi-colored hair. A full body blusher, Lance thinks, almost choking on his spit. He has to do a double take, that not only is Shiro embarrassed, but he also isn’t denying the beautiful comment. And, even if that’s the only thing that Shiro finds beautiful, he can still make it work; look at all the babes Steven Tyler gets.

“Y-You don’t say,” Lance babbles, his own face heating until the strong gaze Shiro is sending him. He has never seen Shiro give anyone that look, not even Keith. Shiro glances back down at their joined hands, sliding his fingers through Lance’s.

He smiles. “I do say.”

And Shiro reaches down, smooths Lance’s matted hair, and cradles his face between his hands like something precious. “I do say. It’s not the only thing that’s beautiful.”

–

Lance now knows the shades of affection from Shiro. The gentle brushes of fingertips in meetings, the dimple invocating smiles, the heavy hand on shoulders. The readiness of soft kisses, in corners, much rougher in private. Big hands in his and puns and laughs too hard-fought, only rightly earned. Like casting aside a mask, affection warms the rough corners of him, the artificial sharpness foreign to everyone including himself.

Lance sees the fierce way he protects those he loves, including Lance. He sees how he tries every experiment of Hunk’s, despite the occasional noxious fumes that exude from them. The gentle way he talks to Pidge, when she tries to bulldoze her way through a meeting. He sees the way Shiro looks at them all, at Lance in particular, and can barely contain a smile of his own. He was wrong when he thought Shiro had no tells, had no vulnerabilities, especially when Lance knows he’s one himself.

No, now that he looks at it, Lance is totally a poet. The way he wants to capture every piece of Shiro he sees, from the good to the bad, to the in betweens.

#shance #playlist #lance mcclain #vld shiro #vldshipexchange

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shehungthemoon · 7 years ago

Text

cover art by the talented and sweet @rizurin

My gift for @deaththecat for the VLD Ship Exchange! If anyone wants a YOUTUBE version to listen to, shoot me the question through the comments or on my ask.

he looks just like you

spotify

~ Eyes Closed by Halsey

~Drive You Mad by Amy Shark

~Bloodstream by Ed Sheeran

~Together by The xx

~Mercury by Sleeping at Last

~Hold On by Chord Overstreet

~Go by Grimes, Blood Diamond

~Dandelions by Ruth B.

~Never Say Never by The Fray

~Recover by Natasha Bedingfield

#vldshipexchange #sheith #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #mine #playlist #deaththecat

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saltwife · 7 years ago

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Better Than Ice Cream

A Lotura @vldshipexchange gift for @strangernatural!

Better than Ice Cream Rating: T (for now) Pairing: Allura/Lotor Characters: Allura, Lotor Summary: The night after her trial on Oriande, Allura is restless. As she wanders through the darkened castle halls looking for something to satisfy her cravings, she finds she is not the only one unable to sleep...

Allura knew what she was doing was wrong. Disgusting. Unnatural, even… And yet, here she was. After all the excitement of her revelation at Oriande, she’d been unable to sleep; and as she lay awake, the temptation had crept up on her, whispering how good it would be, how delicious; until she could think of nothing else. Clad only in her robe and nightgown, she stole through the darkened corridors, praying that no-one else would be awake to question her nocturnal ramblings.

The Ancients smiled upon her, and Allura reached her destination unmolested. The room lights were dimmed, but after spending her whole life in the Castle of Lions, she could have found her way around blindfolded. Her mouth watered—she could practically taste it now. So sweet, so creamy; surely just one tiny spoonful couldn’t be so terrible… as long as she didn’t think about where it came from. She opened the freezer, reaching for the unassuming tub that contained the forbidden treasure. Just one spoonful. Just one little scoop —

...

Read it on Ao3!

#lotura #lotor #allura #voltron #vldshipexchange #fic #my fic #there will be a chapter 2 and it will be spicy #but this one can definitely stand on its own until then!

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the-squirrel-queen · 7 years ago

Photo

Here’s your art @mangofrappe for the @vldshipexchange

Explanations under the cut

Please don’t repost (reblogs are appreciated)

Dm me, I do commissions

Pallura piece: Pidge and Allura fell asleep while watching a movie on Pidge’s laptop

Sheith piece: Shirt discovers his Galra arm can make weird glowing spheres and shows Keith (it was as close to “magic” as I could think of)

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sasuhinasno1fan · 7 years ago

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Nail Art Confession

Hi @saltedsaltine, I’m your gifter for the @vldshipexchange. I’ve been watching this k-drama about a nail shop and I like the headcannon about Lance being really good at all the stuff like that. I also noticed that you like FFXV, Prompto especially so I thought, why not throw them in there? I hope you enjoy.

Keith knew he should be working on his homework, but his fingers were itching to get messy from charcoal in his sketch book. Of course, his usual suspect kept turning up on the pages.

Lance.

He and Lance were in the same friend group, friends themselves though not as close as Lance was with Hunk and Pidge and how he was with Shiro. Somehow they would usually find themselves hanging out more. Lance was loud and attention grabbing and Keith was sure that it’d be hard to really bond with him but Lance was extremely respecting of his boundaries. Whenever Keith would blow him off because of personal issues, Lance always made sure he was ok before telling him it was ok and to let him know when he was feeling better. Sometimes Keith would find himself going to find him even if he was sure he wanted to be alone but there was something about Lance’s presence that he found calming when it was just the two of them. He panicked when he realised how he felt about Lance, avoiding him at first until Shiro tracked him down, asking him what was wrong.

“Keith, having a crush is normal. It’s terrifying, don’t get me wrong but you know Lance. He understands and respects you so it’s not like it’d be a horrible idea to date him.”

“But what if I mess it up?”

“I somehow doubt that but I think Lance respects you too much to make your life hard if that does happen. But only do it if you feel comfortable ok? Don’t do it because you feel like you have to. I’m sure Lance is willing to wait.”

“Wait, does he know?” Keith asked panicked even more

“No, no, no. Just…tell him when you’re ready ok?”

Keith avoided Lance for just a bit longer before he decided Shiro was right. Lance respected and understood him, there was no way he’d embarrass Keith if it didn’t go well. Didn’t mean he’d tell him just yet though. Lance had been worried though, which made Keith feel bad but a hanging out session with some of Lance’s favourite foods forgave him.

It was hard trying to have to hide how he felt but Keith was fine just hanging out with Lance. He didn’t want to lose him so he just kept his feeling under lockdown and drew them out on the ever filling pages of his sketch book. No one ever looked in it without his permission, so he didn’t feel so scared about filling pages upon pages of Lance’s profile or different expressions. They were mostly of Lance smiling. He had a really amazing smile that lit the whole room up.

‘God, I’m gay.’

Keith looked over at the sound of a phone buzzing to his roommate waking up from his nap and fumbling around for his phone. Noctis could sleep just about anywhere, yet somehow he was still passing all his classes. Honestly he only ever saw Noctis studying if he was being bugged by Ignis, one of his friends and apparently nephew to his dad’s secretary. When Prompto, Lance’s roommate and Noctis’ best friend, was over they played video games, watched movies on laptops or leave the room for hours on end doing whatever.

“Mmm,” Noctis mumbled sleepily, no doubt trying to get his brain to work, “Prom’s coming over.” He announced

“That’s fine.” Honestly Prompto hadn’t been to their room in a while. Something about a photography internship

Somehow Noctis fell asleep in the span of when he spoke to when Prompto came slamming the door open. Actually, he was still asleep.

“Sorry. Noct, Noct, wake up dude!” Noctis groaned and turned away from his best friend. Keith could sympathize. Trying to wake Noctis up was a struggle yet his phone going off got him up in a second. Prompto pulled the pillow from under Noctis’ head and wacked him with it. “Get up!”

“What?” he whined sleepily, finally turning to his best friend

“Look at what Lance did.” At the sound of his crush’s name, he paid more attention and watched Prompto shove his fingers in Noctis’ face. “They’re chocobos! Aren’t they cute?”

“He painted your nails?”

“Yeah, he said he usually does it with his sisters and he’s been feeling a bit homesick so he’s been looking up a lot of different designs and I offered to be a model and he did this.”

“It looks good. Can I go back to sleep?”

“No! Come on, I wanna show Iggy and Gladio and you’ve been in bed all day since classes ended. Come on! Sorry again.” Prompto apologized as he pulled a protesting Noctis out of bed and out the door, leaving Keith in silence.

Nail art? Keith knew Lance liked things most people would consider feminine, but he knew that his relationship with his sisters made him not care what people thought. He knew Lance could do hairstyles and was usually begged by the girls in his dorm to do their makeup but he didn’t know that he was also good at doing nails. He went with his mom once to a nail saloon once for her birthday and he had been impressed with the almost effortless skills the manicurist did his mom’s nails. Imagining Lance in that spot was almost as effortless. The desire to see the concentrated look on Lance’s face while doing it prompted him to pick his phone up.

Prompt came bursting into my room to show off his nails.

Oh yeah, here let me show you the pic I got

A picture came in of the art on Prompto’s nails. It was the top of the feathered head, the cartoon blue eyes just peeking over the cuticle. It was cute, and it was pretty amazing.

I had no clue you were so good at art

Not like you. Nails are more my canvas. Now that I think about it, I’ve done everyone else’s nails except yours. Would you be interested? There’s a design I want to try but I did mine last night and I don’t want to take it off.

Well, Keith had a habit of chewing his nails sometimes so it would stop him. It would also mean having Lance hold his hand for a certain amount of time.

Sure. Should I come over?

Yeah! Door’s open and I have mom’s cookies.

Like he needed anymore incentive. Lance’s mother’s cookies were to die for.

“I heard cookies.” Keith said after Lance called for him to come in.

“Hi, Lance. How are you? Oh fine Keith, do you want a cookie? Oh I couldn’t. I swear, I don’t know who’s worse. You, Pidge or Hunk and Hunk tries getting the recipe out of my mom while he does it.” Lance said, sitting at his desk and opening the window, no doubt to try and get rid of the smell of nail polish and nail polish remover.

“Your mom’s cookies are good. You can’t blame a cooking god like Hunk to want to learn the recipe.”

“What am I then? Just the delivery boy?” Lance asked annoyed, though Keith could see he wasn’t really.

“And my manicurist apparently. I would have come to see you anyway; the cookies just moved me faster.” Keith admitted, slightly embarrassed but not really. He liked spending his time with Lance.

“Aww, Keith. You’re the only one who cares.” Lance joked, holding up a Ziplock bag half-filled with assorted cookies. Keith was able to quickly find the double white chocolate chip and take a large bite out of it. “Consider that half your payment. You can get the rest after I do your nails.” Lance said, moving the bag out of the way and gestured to the other chair on the other side of the desk.

Keith sat down after shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth and took his seat. He watched Lance as he filled a small bowl with soap and a few drops of essential oil before pouring water from Prompto’s electric kettle, judging from the chocobo stickers on the handle. Lance brought it over with a towel to rest it on and guided Keith’s hands into the water, which was pleasantly warm.

“So I’m basing this design off something my sister told me. I think you might like it.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” Keith pried but Lance shook his head. “Fine, I’ll wait. When did you learn to do this anyway?”

Taking one of Keith’s hands out of the water and wiping it off before picking up a cuticle pusher and gently pushed Keith’s cuticles back, Lance launched into his tale of how when his aunts would come over, all the older girls would join them in the kitchen to gossip and talk, everyone doing their nails. Lance had one older brother close to his age but at that time he was more interested in trying to hang out with the older boys leaving Lance by himself. Like the mommy’s boy he was, he decided to latch onto his mother who sat in the kitchen with all the other woman. His sister Veronica told him if he was joining them, he had to do his nails as well and he agreed. Even as he got older, he’d join his aunts, sisters, cousins and mother in the kitchen learning the trade, mastering everything until he could do it just as good as getting it done at a salon. Keith had been intently listening, letting Lance move his hands however he wanted to, only really looking at his hands when Lance painted a red similar to Keith’s favourite jacket onto his left fingernails. But for the most part he’d been focused on Lance’s own focused face, committing it to memory to draw in his sketchbook later.

“Alright. I still have to do the design, but how does it look so far?”

Keith looked at his right hand, his nails rounded and red. There wasn’t a spot missing or any polish on his skin, Lance quick to remove it when it did happen.

“Better than I can ever do.” Keith said

“The highest of praise, thank you.” Lance turned on a small fan that sat on the desk. “Put that hand in front of the fan.”

“What about the design?”

“It’ll just be on the left hand.” Lance said, focused on the nails in his hand, strangely having Keith’s fingers curled so he couldn’t see them.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Keith didn’t believe him.

“Lance.”

Lance suddenly looked a bit embarrassed. “So my sister told me about this guy who paid for a girl to get her nails done, he just asked the manicurist to do a certain design. Thing is, he was just friends with this girl but he wanted to become more. So the girl got her nails done and was given the design of his name spelt out on her nails.” Lance put the top coat on and finally let go of Keith’s hand. When he looked at his nails, starting from his pinkie finger and going across, it spelt, L-A-N-C-E. “He told her that he wanted people to know that she was his and he was hers.” Lance put his own hand on the table and even though it was upside-down and backwards, Keith could still see his name spelt out on Lance’s hand.

1-How the hell did he miss that?

2-Oh. Oh!

‘So this is what Shiro meant.’

Keith didn’t notice his silence of his revelation was worrying Lance into thinking he made the wrong decision.

“You know what, never mind, I obviously made a mistake so I’ll just take it off and we can just-”

“I draw you a lot.” Keith burst out. “In my sketchbook. It’s half the reason I don’t like letting people look at it. Also, I really like being around you because you understand me and never push me and I really like you but I was scared I’d mess things up so I didn’t say anything.”

“I thought I’d mess things up with this.” Lance said, looking much calmer now. “I’ve been ranting about you for a while and it’s been annoying the others on why I don’t just say something and Prompto suggested that maybe I do it this way since its subtle and if it didn’t go well, I could play it off as a joke. Which it isn’t, because, you know, I do like you.”

“Me too.” this was new and strange and he was sure he’d need an hour or so to digest everything but Lance liked him, like, liked liked him. He felt strangely giddy. “So is this how you’re going to show me off to everyone else?”

Seeming to be back to his normal self now that he had confirmation Keith felt the same, Lance said as he pulled out a canister of quick dry spray, “absolutely. Just you wait; Pidge is going to never want to be around us with all our domestic love and everything. Ooh, you should let me braid your hair! I mean it’s long enough to put it into a ponytail. I think I can even braid your bangs. Plus I can finally take care of that dry skin of your.”

“Hey!”

“No point in denying it babe,” babe. The name already felt so right to Keith. God, he was gay.

#klance #vldshipexchange #prompto and noctis

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