#anchoredtether

Lance pulled her a little closer, his nosein her braided hair and his steady heartbeat under her cheek. His fingerstightened around hers, his thumb sliding her new gold wedding band up and down.

Pidge sighed as she reveled in his warmth,in that strength and sweetness she loved him for. She lifted her head andcupped the back of his neck, and when his dark blue eyes met hers a gentlesmile tugged at his lips.

“What’reyou thinking about in that brilliant brain of yours, my love?” he wondered in alow voice.

“Otherdancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you…”

She could make a joke or tease him or sharea fact that would boggle his mind; instead she confessed, “I’mjust thinking how I can’t remember ever being this happy.” Heat rushed to herface - it was always tricky for her to discuss her feelings, even with him -but she held his gaze and watched his grin creep a little wider.

(She did not think on why they married in such a hurry with only theirfamilies and Hunk present to witness, about his first impending mission intospace - away from her.)

When Lance’s palm rested on her cheek, she cradled itcloser, her eyes slipping shut as he leaned down to kiss her. She hummedagainst his lips, her stomach flipping pleasantly, and murmured, “And what are you thinking about, my darling goofball?”

“Likea lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more…”

“Howdang lucky I am I met you,” Lance said. “How lucky I am to love you.”

She shivered when his nose brushed hers,his breath warm on her cheek, but teased, “You’re lucky I gave you the chance.”

(She almost didn’t,she thought regretfully. He was her nuisance of a teammate - a pilot who triedso hard to show off he made his crew fail - while they were cadets, so whatirony she fell so hard for him once she saw he could buckle down when he neededto?)

“It’sjust because I’m cute, right?” Lance teased, his thumb skirting under her eye.

“Makeme thrill as only you know how, sway me smooth, sway me now…”

Pidge slid her hand up and down his chest,over the smooth fabric of  his gray suitjacket before she plucks at his slender blue tie. “Somethinglike that.”

She’d tried to convince him to wear hisGarrison uniform jacket, to show off the new stripes in the pictures her motherand his sister took, but now she found herself grateful for the tie.

She tugged him down and kissed him, alittle longer than last time - long enough it left them breathless when theyparted.

Lance recaptured her hand and they resumedtheir dance, sweeping around in a wider circle while she followed his lead. Hisforehead fell onto hers, and he said, “I never told you earlier but…you lookbeautiful.”

“Likea flower bending in the breeze, bend with me, sway with ease…”

Pidge smiled, face warm. She swished herlong white hem around and sighed when Lance’s warm hand wandered up to where the dressleft her back bare. “It’s not exactly a wedding gown,” she told him, “but itdid the job.”

“Itmore than did the job,” Lance agreed. He kissed her, and when his lips partedover hers heat pooled in her stomach.

She gripped his tie again and tangled herfingers through his hair that was almost more carefully styled than her plaits.He cupped her face between his hands, kissing her like a man starved, like henever would again.

(She loved him so much - wanted him closeand with her - she couldn’tbreath when she thought of them parting.)

The air she needed to live was almost notworth it, but the smirk Lance flashed her once he caught his breath made hervery grateful she stood within the fold of his arms.

“Onlyyou have that magic technique, when we sway I go weak…”

His hands fell to her waist. “Youmust be glad Hunk talked me into wearing an actual tie.” He lowered his voiceand whispered in a tone of mocking horror, “I wanted to wear a bow tie.”

Pidge snorted but she couldn’tfight the laughter bubbling through her chest. “Why?” she demanded. She wrapped her arms aroundhis neck so they returned to their lazier slow dance. “Oh my God, that would’vebeen worse than committing murder.”

“Whatdo you have against bow ties, Pidge?” Lance asked. He raised an eyebrow, buthis attempt at being serious fell flat the instant he dissolved into giggles. “Youjust like tugging me down for one more, huh?”

“Whenmarimba rhythms start to play, hold me close, make me sway…”

Her face warmed impossibly more, but sherolled her eyes, fingers tightening around his tie, and grumbled, “Yes,so shut up and kiss me, Mr. Lieutenant Holt.”

“Withpleasure, Mrs. Lieutenant H—”

Kissing Lance was an easy - and pleasant -way to quiet him. Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice faded into the background,the candles burned low before their own wax quenched the flames, and Pidge lostherself in Lance’s arms as he unraveled her kiss by kiss and touch by touch.

“Whenwe dance you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me…”

What little Pidge can see of the dark videoblurs behind a curtain of tears she frantically wipes away. She can do withoutthem, without the awful tightness in her chest and the heaviness weighing downher very soul.

They’re useless to her, but not even her workdistracts her from the pain anymore.

A harsh wave of anger washes over her, herjaw clenching and her fingers tightening around her blasted phone. It takes allher self-control not to chuck it, still playing the video with its soft musicand softer, incomprehensible voices, across the lab at the far wall. At theleast she wants to insert it into the UTM and let the pistons crush it intoshards of fiberglass and silicon.

The empty shell - the non-cog - sitting onthe stool beside her is far from a comforting presence. The entire time thevideo played, she dared to glance at his - its- face, dared to hope for a sign of recognition or just a change in itsexpression.

But nothing - just a blank, flat affectwith not even a hint of the smile that, even in quiet moments, would playaround his lips.

“Youhave to be in there,”Pidge hisses, furious. She squeezes her phone, cradling it close to her chest,and wags an angry finger in the shell’s expressionless face.

It doesn’t even blink.

“H-how’reyou—you can’t be—but you haveto be—”Pidge cuts off with a strangled gasp. She stumbles to her feet, dropping thephone on the lab bench before rounding towards the shell with her headspinning. She feels as unbalanced as she did the last time she drank too much,as unsteady on her feet as she is in her soul, but without Hunk or Keith orMatt there to catch her.

“We’rebringing you back,” Pidge swears, not for the first time. Her fingers find theugly device protruding from its hair - once so carefully groomed, now unwashedand shaggy - and says, “I’m going to find a way to take this damn hoktril outwithout killing you even if I have to question every Altean neurologist in theuniverse myself.”