Hunk merged but did not blend in with the crowd, moving through the tight knots of chatting aliens with ease. Narrowing his eyes, Keith stared him down until his meandering path took him back to Shay, but not once did Hunk turn back.

With a sigh, Keith leaned against the wall. He was not going to take Hunk’s advice, because it was obvious that there was no dancing happening, nor would there be. Besides, Pidge had been occupied all night. He looked down at the ruined napkin still on his plate.

He was just contemplating a resumption of his prior activity when a lizard-like quadruped skittered up to him and bent down in what looked like a quick approximation of a bow. The creature raised a clawed foot.

“Please allow me to take that from you, Red Paladin of Voltron.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

It shook its head and looked up at Keith through bulbous, orange eyes. It was difficult to tell with it’s strange, cross-shaped pupils and lack of discernible mouth, but Keith thought it looked like the creature was almost pleading. “It would be my pleasure, Red Paladin of Voltron.”

Keith wordlessly handed over his plate and the alien waiter shivered in delight.

“Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, Red Palad-”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Rather than seeming put off, the waiter bobbled its head and dipped back into another bow. Keith watched as it and his last distraction slithered away.

Diplomatic affairs like this one always made Keith antsy. With the war against Zarkon’s empire ended and the Altean Galactic Alliance victorious, the meetings, galas, parades, negotiations, dinners, and displays were endless. He understood the necessity of them, just as he understood the necessity of displaying the Blade of Marmora’s sigil on the breast of every uniform and fancy outfit it had been necessary to have tailored for him, but that didn’t mean he did more than tolerate them. Making small talk and kissing babies were more Shiro and Hunk’s specialties.

It was fortunate that Allura understood that much; unless there was a situation where the Alliance required the “unique charms” of their only Galran Paladin, Keith was left free to stick to the outskirts of the party, where he could exchange snide comments and, when the meeting allowed, overdrink whatever fermented alien beverage was available with Pidge.

And that, he allowed to himself, was a part of his problem. His solitary ways weren’t often commented on at gatherings like this, because it wasn’t often that he was alone. As useless and uncomfortable in large social settings as he was, Pidge had become Keith’s party partner in crime. Nights on end had been spent smuggling edibles from various kitchens back to their rooms in the Castle, inventing names and elaborate backstories for the hundreds of alien beings that attended these types of events, and, when eventually approached by the more curious of said aliens, challenging the other to speak in the most ridiculous Terran accents they could come up with. Pidge currently held the title for “Most Unique” accent with her blend of Swedish Chef and New New Jersey; Keith, however, won “Most Times Making The Other Crack Up” with his finest, thickest Texan drawl. Some nights, however, they sat back, content to watch the universe turn around them as they shared a glass of nunvil and childhood memories from Earth. They kept each other sane, and, more importantly, kept the other from starting any interplanatary incidents.

But tonight was different. A dinner arranged and hosted by the finest scientists and academic minds of the Alliance required the attention of Voltron’s Green Paladin, legendary across systems for her improvements and modifications of the technologies of some of the galaxy’s most advanced societies. Less than a month ago, Pidge had rigged up a machine capable of filtering from air the lethal products of the non-Druid quintessence refinement process using some old Altean circuitry and Lance’s shoelaces; Keith was pretty sure he’d spotted one of the dinner’s attendees salivating as she spoke about it with another guest. In fact, everyone he’d passed or overheard throughout the evening seemed near-rapturous at the prospect of even being in the same room as Pidge.

As far as he could figure, the only advantage of Pidge’s fame was that it made her easy to find. Although the crowd ebbed and flowed throughout the room, conversing, eating, exchanging data, their motions all seemed fixed in orbit to Pidge’s presence. As she moved, the room moved with her. Keith rose up on his tiptoes and spotted her in an instant.

In a large group, Pidge was awkward at worst. At best, she was a passionate, rambling whirlwind, flying from thought to topic to query and back again in a jumble of half-questions and incomplete sentences. Pidge could be difficult to follow sometimes even in one-on-one conversations; nerves and an acute self-awareness of just how she sounded when she got worked up had a tendency to make her incoherent.

But tonight, it didn’t seem to matter if her thoughts tripped up her words on their way to her mouth. The audience of doctors, scientists, and historians absorbed every syllable; rapt eyes took in every gesture. What’s more, they probably understood it all. She was as in her element as Keith had ever seen her.

He had tried, and failed, not to watch her all night as he circulated the edges of the room. With Pidge busy, there hadn’t been much else for him to do. Even Lance, who would join their shenanigans on a regular basis, was busy practicing his charm on the two lithe aliens who had approached him not long after the start of the event. Keith had expected Lance to strike out with the no doubt brilliant beings he was sandwiched between, but from the looks of things, their interest in him was more than academic.

Shifting from foot to foot, Keith  glanced down at the slim ticker on his wrist. About two vargas to go.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could make it, an issue no doubt. The bigger part of his problem, however, was the bipedal alien who loomed at Pidge’s shoulder, nodding as she spoke. Tall and red-skinned, their humanoid features were more unusual than handsome, though there seemed a mathematical symmetry to the wide, high cheekbones, arching brow, and diamond-shaped eyes. And while Keith most certainly hadn’t been charting Pidge’s movement throughout the party, if he had, he’s sure he would have noticed how closely they seemed to stick to her side, ignoring the understood patterns of meet, converse, and move on that everyone else was obliged to follow.

It was obvious from just a few doboshes of watching that they were itching for Pidge’s undivided attention. More than once, they had rested their hand on her elbow and attempted to steer her away from the crowd, only to have more new faces appear and request an introduction. The alien was polite to be sure, never interrupting an introduction or talking over another guest, and attentive in the extreme, parting from Pidge only to bring her food or drink, but it didn’t matter: everything about them set off every red flag in Keith’s head.

Keith turned away just as they turned their head to look at him. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been caught outright staring, but he nonetheless ambled over to the food table and went through the motions of saying a few words to an Arusian ambassador he recognized from one of the earliest Alliance meetings. If he snuck a couple of glances over to Pidge and her new shadow, well, it wasn’t more than two or three times.

It didn’t help that she looked good. It didn’t help that, when he’d said as much outside the doors to the massive dining hall, she’d gone pink, jabbed an elbow into his ribs, and reminded him that she was expected to remain semi-coherent tonight. And it definitely didn’t help to be struck with the grueling realization that she could be covered in garbage right now and he would still be fixated on her.

Pidge isn’t covered in garbage though, and even Lance had seemed impressed at how well she cleaned up. She’d finally allowed the mice to comb through the rat’s nest that occupied the space above her skull. Somehow they’d spun soft, loose waves of burnished gold from the mess, a sight Keith had been privy to for a few ticks before Hunk whisked her away and wove her hair into thick braids that curled crown-like atop her head. She’d donned the single outfit she liked out of all special ones made for events like this, a pair of doe-colored leggings worn under a tunic of diaphanous, moss green material. Even with the tunic cinched low on her waist with the toolbelt she insisted on wearing at all times, Pidge looked like she’d appeared from between the tall roots of some ancient, otherworldly tree and stepped straight into the room’s clearing.

Quiznak, now he was thinking in similes.

Tearing his eyes away, Keith slumped against the wall and crossed his arms over her chest. No one would mind that the Red Paladin of Voltron was standing in a corner not brooding. His reputation as the intense, stoic defender of the universe would be easy to uphold tonight.

He tapped his foot. Looked down at his ticker. Scanned everywhere in the room but where Pidge stood. Ran his tongue over his teeth to feel for any stray bits of food. Checked his ticker again.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of deep red and looked up. The alien who had been glued to Pidge’s side passed him, making their way to the food table. Against his will, his eyes shifted to locate Pidge and found her making a beeline towards him.

“We’ve got a problem,” she said the moment she was within hearing range.

Years ago, Keith and Pidge discovered their uniquely mutual ability to pull the longest, world-weightiest eye rolls from one another. Keith drew on this ability now. By the time his eyes fell back on her, she’d started on her own exaggerated roll.

“Seems like you’ve been doing fine all night,” Keith said.

“Quit being petty-”

He threw his hands up with a tight “I’m not!” but his protests fell limp at Pidge’s raised eyebrow.

“Okay then quit being jealous and a liar,” Pidge continued with a smug grin, “and help me with this problem.”

They paused and passed off serene smiles as a delegation of Ukkarian physicists neared. The moment the group passed, Pidge locked arms with him and spun them both around so that they faced the corner.

“I’m not being jealous,” he grumbled.

Interlocked as they were, Pidge couldn’t elbow him in her usual fashion, but that didn’t stop her from trying. They scuffled for a few moments, never releasing the other’s arm or moving away. Both got in a good shot before Pidge cheated by going lax and draping herself over him. He propped her up with one arm and sighed.

“I could drop you.”

“You could,” she mused, “but then I’d have to add ‘rude’ to the character traits list in your file.”

“I’m shocked it’s not already there.”

“That’s because most of the time when you do rude shit, it’s hilarious.”

Her deadweight against his arm was beginning to prick at his muscles; sliding his hand down to her waist, he adjusted his hold on her. Even with their awkward arrangement, Keith felt more at ease now than he had since he and Pidge parted at the beginning of the night. No one would notice if he kept the star guest of the evening to himself for the rest of the event, right? It’s not like he was the only one trying to.

“The jealous-broody streak is hilarious, too,” she added. If her smirk got any more knowing, Keith decided, he’d drop her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, even as his fingers flexed against her side.

Pidge laughed and gave him a pointed look, but was ready when he yanked his arm out from underneath her. She barely even wobbled before straightening herself back up to standing. Nonetheless, she let out a pained sigh as brushed flat invisible wrinkles on her tunic.

“Didn’t you have some kind of crisis in the works?” Keith said before she could get going again.

It was like an electric current had run straight up her spine. She sprung into motion, bouncing from foot to foot as she looked over both shoulders.

“Yes, and it’s serious, and I can’t *believe* I got distracted from what’s possibly the biggest intergalactic crime this side of the war,” she said. She smacked her forehead and then ran her hand up through her hair, where it met new resistance from her braids. Needing something to do with her hands, Pidge dropped them on Keith’s shoulders. She crowded in. His entire body went rigid. Her lips brushed his ear as she spoke. Sparks shuddered in the space below his ribs.

“Keith, they don’t know about Star Wars,” she hissed.

Keith didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised; she was always talking three steps ahead in a conversation.

“What?”

“I know, right? Star Wars! Not a single one of these scientists and so-called Terran experts have ever seen Star Wars. Jyxlyx said something about how nice I looked, and I told them I was just copying Carrie Fisher, and then everyone around just looked at me like-”

He realized his mistake a tick too late: she’d already caught his blank stare.

“Like that. Like you’re looking at me now.”

Her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed to sharp slits. There wasn’t much of a height difference between them, but she nonetheless stood up on her toes and leaned in until their noses bumped.

“Keith?”

“Pidge?”

He went cross-eyed trying to focus on her face. Freckles and tiny flecks of scars did dizzy spins across his vision.

“Keith Kogane?”

“Yes, Katie Holt?”

Her huffed exhale crossed the non-existent space between them, heat on skin.

“Have you- are you telling me that you’ve never-?”

Keith entertained the notion of letting her carry on her fake indignation, but he knew she’d be even more put out if he ended her dramatic reaction before she could escalate to her usual goofiness.

“Never seen Star Wars? Yeah.”

But Pidge’s intentional overreaction was not to be deterred. Keith bit at his bottom lip to try and stop his grin as Pidge threw up her hands. “Blasphemy! Do aliens not know about Star Wars?”

She rocked back on her heels, still gesticulating wildly. Keith breathed for what felt like the first time in years. “Such disgrace! How are we even friends?”

“It’s truly one of the greatest mysteries of the known universe,” he replied dryly.

“We’re rectifying this immediately,” she said. She grabbed his hand and turned towards the entrance of the dining hall. “Shiro downloaded them all last time we were on Earth, we can use his drive-”

“What about the rest of the party?” he asked, as if his heart hadn’t begun to dance in delight at the prospect of finally getting to *leave* with *Pidge*.”

“Screw the party,” she snapped, tugging at his hand. “We can’t continue to associate for much longer if you haven’t seen at least one Star Wars movie, and that’s just not going to fly. Besides, you’ll love them.”

He let Pidge pull him along the outside edges of the packed room. More than once he heard one of the guests call for Pidge; Keith did his best to wave or nod as they passed, as Pidge, on her warpath, was far from paying attention.

Which is how he ended up with a chestful of stopped Pidge a tick later. He grunted as her head knocked painfully against his chin.

“Oh, please excuse me, Green Paladin of Voltron. I did not realize you were occupied. I have brought refreshments.”

The voice was high, pleasant but choppy, like a flute run through a synthesizer. Keith looked up to see the red alien who had attended to Pidge all evening with puppy-like dedication. They held a small plate of food in one hand, and two glasses of potent-looking aquamarine liquid in the other.

Pidge took one of the glasses they offered. They held out the plate. Pidge looked from the glass in one hand, to the plate, to her other hand, still occupied by Keith’s. Her fingers tightened around his as his relaxed to let her go.

“Thanks,” she said, “I guess I’m not hungry anymore though.” She turned to Keith and her eyes scanned his face. Whatever she read there must have been amusing: her lips quirked up in a little grin. “Jyxlyx, I’d like you to meet Keith, the Red Paladin of Voltron. Keith, Jyxlyx, the Chief Scientist of the Rylyh.”

Jyxlyx tipped their head in greeting, and Keith pressed his free fist to his chest and bowed.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Keith. I have heard much of your innovation in field of defensive piloting.”

Their eyes slid to where Keith and Pidge’s hands were joined, and went the slightest bit wide.

“Given your reputation,” they continued, “I suppose it is no surprise that you and Pidge are-”

They cut off, brow furrowing. Their eyes slid to the ceiling, pensive. There was an intensity about Jyxlyx that made Keith’s palm sweat - or maybe that was Pidge’s.

“I am afraid my knowledge of your Terran dialect is lacking the proper term. How would you say that the two of you are-” The sound that issued from their mouth next sounded distinctly Altean. Keith didn’t recognize the word, but given the way Pidge stiffened, he bet that she did. Her jaw went slack.

“Ah, well, you see, on Earth it’s a little- you know it’s a lot like- well, ah-” Pidge tripped over her words. “There are a lot of different ways to express that, it’s just-”

Jyxlyx’s attention shifted to Keith. “Perhaps the Galran equivalent is that you two would be-” and then they uttered a guttural Galran phrase that Keith’s clunky interpretation skills could best interpret as “Bonded”.

Which wasn’t untrue, of course. Keith and Pidge were bonded, just as all of the paladins were. It was easy after all of this time for one of them to suss out the mood of another, or establish a psychic connection. The number of breakfasts spent with the entire group finishing each other’s sentences were impossible to count by now.

Keith nodded and repeated the Galran word Jyxlyx had said. “Yeah, we are.”

The reactions that crossed Pidge and Jyxlyx’s face couldn’t have been more different. Pidge launched into a perfect impression of a ripe tomato; Jyxlyx’s face lit up into a bright smile. Were their hands not full of food and drink, Keith thought they might have clapped in delight.

“So the close nature of the paladins is more than a rumor!” they said.

“Yeah,” Keith said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, when you fight side-by-side with someone for years, it happens.”

Pidge wrenched his hand, hard. He glanced down at her, curious, but the redness of her face and the tight pull of her lips told him nothing more than that he’d said something wrong.

“That’s wonderful,” Jyxlyx said. “But now you must tell me what the phrase would be in your dialect.”

Pidge glared at Keith. He shrugged. He’d had no idea exactly what Jyxlyx had said, and outside of Coran, Pidge was most qualified to translate.

“The standard word for-” Pidge mimicked the Altean word perfectly, “would most likely have two near translations. The closest predicate would be ‘dating’.” She stared straight at Keith as she spoke, and he could hear as well as hear the frustrated fire that licked at her voice. His stomach plummeted. “The closest ungendered subject would be ‘partner’.”

Jyxlyx nodded along, fascinated by her explanation. They seemed not to have noticed that Pidge was now crushing Keith’s fingers between hers, or that the blood had drained from Keith’s face.

“But the direct translation,” she continued, “would be *mating pair*.”

Keith kept his mouth shut, didn’t even breathe. Was he more shocked by what he had unknowingly suggested, or terrified of what wrath he would face as soon as Pidge was done exchanging good-nights with Jyxlyx? In some distant corner of his rapidly shrinking universe, he was aware that Jyxlyx had expressed their pleasure at having met them both, and wished them a joyful ‘dating’, and that they would leave them to enjoy the rest of their evening. He must have responded in a satisfactory fashion, for Jyxlyx left them a moment later.

“Outside?” he breathed.

“Outside,” she wheezed.

No one stopped them as they hurried out. The long hallway leading to the ballroom was empty, but that didn’t stop them from heading straight to the farthest, darkest corner at the end of it. Drenched in shadow, Keith’s vision took a moment to adjust. There were advantages to having Galran blood, and the ability to see even the smallest twitches of Pidge’s expressive face even in such darkness was one of them. Her expression wasn’t one he recognized as angry, but she kept pursing and drawing tight her lips, and her eyes were narrowed.

“Was it something I said?” he asked, because apparently he had a deathwish.

“Yes?” she started. “I mean, yes, but no? But also like, did you have any idea what they were asking?”

“They used the Galran word for ‘bonded’,” Keith said. He would have liked to have crossed his arms over his chest, a small defense against the woman only inches from him, but Pidge still had his hand, and didn’t seem like she would be letting go of it any time soon. “Which isn’t wrong.”

“Okay but they also used the Altean word for ‘fucking’, Keith,” she hissed.

He’d figured that much out by the end of their conversation with Jyxlyx, but hearing Pidge say it now made it all the more real. His brain took the most logical - and least helpful - leap, whispering ‘What if?’ as it teased him with the notion of what else could happen between the two of them in a dark, empty corner. Never before had he been so glad that humans had weak low-light vision.

“They did not use the Altean word for ‘fucking’,” Keith said, hoping to cover the sound of his heart blasting away in his chest. “I know that one, and they definitely didn’t use it.”

Pidge waved off what he was saying, then stepped closer so that he could hear her fast, low words. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips.

“There’s more than one Altean word for ‘fucking’, Keith, and now that’s what everyone in that room is going to think we’ve been doing.”

She stared him down, chest rising and falling in sharp jerks. Anxiety? Anger? Or was she mirroring him?

“Is there something wrong with that?” he dared.

“Quiznak no, I’ve been wanting- But if everyone’s under the impression that we’re doing the do when we’re not even doing *anything*- it’s like expectations, and then reality, and then-”

She seemed so caught up in trying to string together a sentence that she wasn’t fully aware of what she’d said. Keith hadn’t missed it, though it was possible his brain had stopped at ‘wanting.’

Keith pulled her hand to his chest. Her eyes grew large, and she looked like she was about to speak a tick before he said, “Then let’s meet their expectations.”

Pidge was silent for not more than two heartbeats, but it felt as though it stretched on into eternity. She slid closer until he swore he felt their very molecules meet.

“Right now?” she said. “In the middle of this party?”

He touched his forehead to hers. Brought their joined hands up and placed hers on his shoulder. Could she feel his pulse? They were near enough.

“We’ve done wilder things at an interplanetary gathering.”

“Point,” Pidge said, lips parting into a smile. “Then let’s do it.”

She gave his shoulder a gentle push, until his back bumped the wall. His hands slipped down her back. Her knee slipped between his legs. It was fortunate that she did; Keith wasn’t sure how long his knees would hold out, given how weak they felt with just this simple closeness.

“Really?” he murmured. Dipping his head, he let his lips ghost along the skin of her neck until he reached her ear.

“Yeah.” Her breath hitched. “But on one condition.”

“Go for it.”

“We watch Star Wars in my bed after this.”

Granted that there were many, many factors that brought this on (one of them was a loud mouthed moron and another was some mystical bond that connected their minds and beings along with said moron and two others) but it was still a dilemma nonetheless.

It could endanger the team if she finds out. Or if anyone finds out, for that matter.

Voltron was built on trust. That was for certain as soon as he stepped into their lions. Everyone was bonded, physically and spiritually, both to their lions and each other.

If Keith or anyone else on the team started showing signs of hiding things from each other now, it could jeopardize their whole mission altogether.  

It also just made things really, really awkward now that he was fully aware of his feelings.

The hell was he supposed to do now that he knew?

Avoid her? Be nicer and hint towards it? Say it to her face?

An irritating warmth crawled up the back of his neck and he quickly shrugged it off.

He didn’t have the obligation to tell her, per se, but being mystically connected in mind and being kinda put him in a tough spot.

Just the thought of it all brought about enough frustration to make Keith want to rip all of his hair out.

It's early in the morning and what does he do to blow off in alternative to that?

He goes to the training room and takes it out on the gladiator, that's what.

However, as soon as he steps into the training deck, he realizes just how badly the universe wants to mess with him.

Of course after he's changed and more than ready for a couple of levels with the Altean bucket of bolts Keith found none other than Pidge herself on the training deck, doing stretches and warming up.

Keith never really bothered himself with clothes before, but he knew what Pidge currently had on was different.

Very different.

More specifically a green tank top with what he deduced to be a black sports bra underneath, and black shorts.

Probably stuff Allura lent her, he figured.

Her hair was also tied up too, in that same side ponytail he had ran his fingers through just the night before, and this, with the addition of her now more...revealing clothing, showed more skin than he ever thought he could have the privilege of seeing.

For starters, her neck was slender, now glistening with sweat out of the effort from the warm ups she was doing. Her arms were toned as well, obviously product from Garrison training coupled with piloting a giant mechanical lion. She may be small, but she had muscle in her system. Made her compact yet agile.

A force to be reckoned with, he mused. His gaze shifted a little lower.

Another thing was different too.

Her glasses were off. They were lying on the floor not too far from where she stood.

Keith wondered what her eyes looked like up close without them.

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he shoved the errant thought, thankful that Pidge had her back to him as she continued with her dynamic stretching.

And then she suddenly stopped and turned around.

"Keith?"

He lifted a hand in a weak wave. "Hey."

She offered him a small smile. "Hey."

Keith shook his head as he stepped over to her. "Fancy seeing you here."

Pidge only shrugged. "I figured I should learn to pull my own weight. Also Allura has been nagging me to train." She gestured around. "So here I am."

Keith nodded. He should just keep his cool.

Yeah.

He wasn't Lance, so that was something he could do. Keith jutted his chin to the the rubber mat.

“You. Me. Spar.”

Pidge only looked at him incredulously.

“Just like this?” She gestured with her bare hands, obviously referring to the apparent lack of weapons.

He nodded. “You won’t always have your bayard with you, Pidge.”

She thought for a moment. “True.”

Before long he felt himself smirk. “But if it makes you feel any better, you can go and grab yours.” The smirk widened to a teasing grin. “I’ll be fine without mine.”

Was he teasing or was he flirting? He couldn't quite tell.

Nonetheless it brought about an expected reaction. He found himself grinning wider at her scowl as he stepped onto the mat.

"I'll be fine without mine as well." She snapped. “And loser has to do the winner's chores for the next week.” She moved to posture herself in a fighting stance.

"That a challenge, Gunderson?" He asked, shedding off his jacket before getting into position.

"You're on, Kogane."

And she started sprinting towards him, fist up and ready to make contact with his jaw.

Keith didn’t even blink as he dodged her punch with ease.

The thing about sparring was that this was when his attentiveness increased ten-fold.

This wasn't like any other brawl where he had to think on his feet at a life or death risk.

Sparring sessions were for learning, to know where he and his partner fell short in and can consequently improve in. The kind of maneuvers should they pull for whatever situation, moves they could pull should they tag team, and more importantly spars served as time to polish their already existing skills to a brilliant shine.

These were what determined the life-or-death risk in actual fights.

And for this, Keith had to take notice of everything.

They could’ve fought for mere seconds or minutes or even hours.

None of that mattered.

There is only Pidge, his eyes intently focused on every movement of her body and what she could possibly do to him and how he could respond. Every punch and kick, every block and dodge, all blurred together to make room for attentiveness for the next, all while stored in the back of his mind for future reference.

Pidge was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

Her small stature combined with agility made her tough to barely even see, and while Keith had more experience under his belt, Pidge was a quick learner and a quicker thinker.

Perfectly fitting for the Green Paladin profile Allura had told them about not too long ago.

Keith narrowly missed a kick to his ribs as he stepped to the side, grabbing her ankle then tossing her back to the mat.

Unfazed, she started back up towards him.

He would be no pushover either.

Not wasting another second, Keith ran towards her head on, bracing himself for the impact of their collision.

If he did this right, she would be at the proper distance for him to wrap his arms around her fast enough to catch her by surprise and pin her to the ground.

Muscled as she was, Pidge still barely weighed anything. That he would use to his advantage.

But of course Pidge saw what was coming.

Instead of aiming a fist or kicking him, Pidge just full on pounced and tackled him to the ground, then shifted so that his arms were pinned under her knees.

The only thing Keith managed to do was freeze and stare.

.

.

.

In all his defense, there he was being straddled by the girl he liked and she had no business looking so damn gorgeous with messy hair, glistening in sweat and panting heavily on top of him.

.

.

.

So yeah.

.

.

.

Staring it is.

“I…got you.” She mumbled, yet the words had no weight of victory or relief.

If anything she was just as dumbstruck as he was.

.

.

.

So Keith just stared.

.

.

.

And stared and stared.

The weight of her on his hips, while barely even noticeable to begin with, was nothing compared to the pressure that sent his heart sprinting in his rib cage, right under where her hands suddenly found themselves resting on over his chest.

She blinked once. Twice.

Her eyes.

They were hazel. Flecked with gold near the irises and looked nothing short of beautiful as they peered down at him.

Keith swallowed a lump in his throat.

And suddenly Pidge moved, and for a split second he thought she was going to get off him.

She had every reason to.

But instead she only lifted her legs so that they no longer rested on top of his arms.

Keith felt his eyes widen.

.

.

.

She didn't want to get off him.

.

.

.

And in that moment he realized he didn't want that either.

.

.

.

Red started purring in the back of his mind.

.

.

.

You know what you want, though.

.

.

.

He knew it very well. There she was, right on top of him and so damn close without any sign of leaving.

.

.

.

Heat.

.

.

.

Slowly he lifted his hands, taking his time to trail up her thighs and rest on her hips.

.

.

.

There was only heat, and that was all he felt.

.

.

.

"Keith," she whispered.

.

.

.

Not the irritating kind that crept up the back of his neck, or the kind that set his face ablaze with embarrassment.

.

.

.

He slowly moved to sit up.

.

.

.

This bloomed deep in chest, set his bones with warmth that made him move without even thinking about it.

.

.

.

You know what you want, Red’s voice came again.

.

.

.

There was another feline voice that joined in his conscience.

.

.

.

She wants it too.

.

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Wait.

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Was that Greenie?  

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What was she doing in his head?

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It took a second for Keith to realize the presence and another for him to realize that it didn’t really matter.

.

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Not when he noticed Pidge was leaning down as well.

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Not when her hands clutched at his shirt for support, fingers digging spark to the skin underneath.

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Not when he flitted his eyes over to her lips and noticed the want in her own eyes.

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And certainly not when whatever space in between them was closing as well.  

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“Well look at what we have here.”

The two once again jumped apart at the sound of Lance’s voice, and Pidge quickly scrambled off his lap.  

It was like he was doused in cold water as the heat that pulled all throughout his body escaped in one fell swoop.

Keith shifted to sit up fully to glare at the Blue Paladin. Behind him Hunk looked apologetic, but he also had a knowing smile on his face.

He felt himself blanch.

Eject him. Eject him now. Throw him in a pod, set the course to As Far Away From Here As Possible, don’t bother with return coordinates.

Lance had always known, Hunk knows, Shiro had definitely figured it out for himself.

The mice would know, Coran and Allura know, the whole Voltron Alliance would know.

Hell, for all he cared, even Zarkon would know.

And Pidge would know.

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.

.

Or maybe she already did.

Lance only smirked at the two.

"Little early for training, don't ya think?" He waggled his brows suggestively at the word training.

Without even looking at each other, Pidge and Keith stood up and headed for opposite exits.

Keith cursed at the sound of Lance's laughter as it echoed throughout the halls.

"Did you really have to interrupt them like that?" Hunk asked as Lance composed himself. "I mean, yeah sure, I didn't want to sit through them making out on the training deck but we could've I don't know, left?"

"Oh, Hunk. My sweet innocent boy." He patted the other boy’s shoulder. "Keith and Pidge are easily riled up. But they both easily get caught up in their own emotions."

Hunk raised a curious brow. "Okay...?"

"So what do you do for two morons too stubborn to admit that they liked each other?"

He thought for a moment. "You wait it out?"

Lance nodded, ecstatic. "Yes, but you also you provoke them."

Panic rose in Hunk’s system. "Where are you going with this?"

"Not to worry, Hunk." Lance grinned at the floor where three little creatures innocently stood by. “Allura and I have everything planned. Isn't that right, little guys?"

Hunk heard a squeak before the mice scurried off.

He fought the urge to slap a palm to his face.  

Oh no.