haha, then what?

“That, and we wanted to get as much use out of our new shirts as possible,” Hunk fills in, stripping off his own sweatshirt in a fluid motion. Oh god. Plastered across their baby blue shirts is what must be the ugliest picture of Lance alive. It’s so bad he doesn’t even remember it being taken, likely meaning he was captured at a moment of weakness. His eyes are half-open, hair slicked back to reveal his huge forehead (is it really that big?), nostrils flared, and his lips are pulled back as he smiles. His most un-award winning grin. “Nope. No. No, put the sweatshirts back on. Right now. Who made these?” Lance is scampering backwards like he’s being attacked. His path is stopped as he bumps into someone. “What’s wrong? I thought you always appreciated good fashion?” Rachel teases. She too, is wearing the terrible shirt, finger tapping over the huge fucking pimple that is beaming from shirt-Lance’s face. Like a beacon summoning the gods above. Lance claps his hands over his eyes. “Get the fuck out Rach, you did not—how did you all even acquire that?” “Good photographers never tell,” Pidge grins.

“This is why I am thankful that you’re an only child,” Lance rolls his eyes, but appreciating Keith’s help all the same. “Can you imagine? Another one of you? Or two? Hell, even five mini-Keith’s?” The former Red Paladin pulls a face. “I think I’ll just stick to Shiro.” “Ugh. Be grateful. He’s gone full old-man mode now. Look at him. All posed up with his reading glasses and a book.” “It’s non-fiction too. Something about ‘calming the mind.’” “Performative much?” Lance teases, and they both laugh, running up onto the sand as they catch Hunk opening up the cooler. “Hunk, those sandwiches better be for me!” “Sorry! Only for people who don’t hurt kids feelings by stealing their brother away!”

“Professor, your husband is calling.” “Keith’s what?” Lance’s head snaps back around, to where Kelsey is pointing one of her many fingers at Lance’s phone. Baby-Boo Pookie Keithers LoML XOXO is displayed on the screen, phone vibrating on the desk. Ah. It appears he is. Lance and Kelsey both stare at it as it rings out, watching his phone go dark. Pocketing the device quickly, Lance straightens up. “It’s quite unprofessional for you to know that my husband is calling me.” “No offence sir,” a voice calls out from one of the desks—Lei’lei, the class’ resident straight A student—head peering around to look at Lance. “But you talk about him all the time.”

Lance pointedly coughs, getting Keith to finally look up. His husband scoffs. “You’d never be too old to be a stripper.” “Oh yeah, eighty year old Lance swinging himself around on a pole. Could you imagine?” Lance tugs at the restrictive plates that seem to be attempting to crush his body. Standing up, Keith bats Lance’s hands away so he can pull up the zipper. “Mhm. I’d have front row seats. Rent out a whole stage for you. Be sexy.” “My dentures would probably fly out and hit you in the face.”

“What do you do at a ‘movie night?’” Allura questions from under a teetering pile of cushions she’s pulled from who-knows-where. He head pokes around the stack. Taking half the huge pile off of her, Lance begins chucking them down on the floor. “Well, watch movies, for one. Eat unhealthy food. If it’s gonna be a sleepover, we can give each other makeovers, do face-masks, nail painting, each other’s hair, all sorts of stuff. And then we talk really late into the night about our crushes and what we want to do before we die and play something like truth or dare where we do stupid shit we’ll probably regret in the morning.” “Oh, I have lots of things we can do in my room! Whenever my father hosted parties at the Castle I was always receiving gifts from other planets. I have so many things collected I hardly ever put to use. I shall fetch them after we eat our evening meal. Could the mice join in the sleepover too?”

Three points. Three points from achieving his dream. Lance could cry. The paper shakes dangerously in his trembling hand. What did he get wrong? Is it too late to let him re-take it? Summer only just starts tomorrow, and then he won’t have to be at the Garrison until after that—surely there’s enough time, right? There has to be.

“You could run right off this planet and I would spend every moment of my life trying to find you. I don’t want to lose you. It makes the hairs on my head go grey, worrying over you and your siblings.” “But your hair is so beautiful mama.” The arms around Lance tightened. “And this is why I get so worried. If you are gone, who will there be to complement me? Hm? The cows?” She pulls back, tickling him right under the armpits. “And the birds! The birds will tell you you’re so pretty!” Lance giggles, squirming to get away from his mothers wiggling hands. “And—and the sheepdogs! And the flowers with the blue petals. Those are my favourite flowers mama.”

summary: “Can you let go of me?” Lance shrieks, hands over his head. A mottled green face leans in inches away from his own. “Not until you die!” the kid screams, its razor-like teeth glinting in the light. Lance is quite petrified.

“Get ready to be wrecked, old man!” Lance hollers at him. “Be sure those dentures don’t fall out!” Shiro cups a hand to his ear. “What did you say? I think I left my hearing aids at home!” Lance laughs, flipping the visor on his helmet down. It reminds him a lot of F1 drivers back on Earth—except his is a boring black, just like the other odd forty or so people in this race. Over the tannoy, the host is speaking, the helmet translating the words. Three laps around the track. No going outside of the yellow lined sand onto the duskier orange hills. Hitting and bumping other competitors is allowed, but cause of injury leads to a thousand-GAC fine, so the host recommends not to risk it. Lance won’t. To anyone but Shiro and his annoying-ass brother of course. Lance has now made it his life mission to absolutely detonate the both of them.

Thirty minutes in and victory is so near she can taste it. The numbers flying across her screen have have sequence now. If she just drags this down here— “Ah-hah! I knew the two of you would be hiding out somewhere!” Her laptop lid is closed by a familiar brown hand. Lance stands in front of their protective pillar, his Altean diplomacy suit perfectly clean and unruffled. Pidge hisses at him, while Keith jumps, shrieking like someone shot him. It gets Lance wheezing with laughter. “Whoops. Didn’t mean to wake you Keith. Who knew that dirty caves would be just the thing to put you to sleep?” he glances around their hideout with a grin.