Archive of Our Own ^beta

"So, when you say you're Italian," Lance says one night, while they're spread out on the couches in the lounge. She's lying down while he sits, her feet in his lap and his hands tracing circles into her ankles and calves. They'd been wrestling earlier and that had just been how they had ended up. "Do you mean that, like, your great-great-grandmother was Italian but you've lived in America your entire life, or...?"

Pidge snorts. "I live in Italy, Lance," she tells him. "We'd been in the United States for two or so years before I joined the Garrison. It was never a permanent thing, though. Dad just got the job offer and it paid so well that moving made sense. We were probably going to move back home once I graduated."

"It's kinda the same for me, except not at all," Lance says, as if that makes even a little bit of sense. "I got accepted to the Garrison and went out by myself. My family's all back in Cuba waiting for me."

"I don't know much about Cuba," Pidge admits. She knows some stuff from history class, but Cuba was never a focal point - always brushed over in relation to other wars or influences. "What's it like there?"

"I'll take you," Lance says lazily, as if it's the first thing that's come to his head, "when this is all over. You can meet my family - you'll love Veronica, though she'll probably rope you in to burning all my hair off."

Pidge stares straight up at the ceiling and blushes. Isn't taking people to meet your family, like, a romantic thing? Especially if they live halfway across the world? She supposes that the idea of going home is so foreign and impossible that Lance is allowed to make any promise he wants. "Then I'll take you to Italy, too!" she decides. "Or the house in Arizona, whichever."

She's still too scared to look at him, in fear of him realizing that her cheeks are still bright red, but she can hear the tone in his voice. "That sounds good," Lance says, sounding somewhere between hopeful and amused. "Hey - who would visit who first?"

Pidge allows herself to dream up this scenario. "You can visit me first," she tells him, closing her eyes now to picture it all. "I can take you around Italy and you can meet my grandmother on my mom's side, since my mom and dad would probably still be in Arizona. Then we could fly together to Cuba."

"We have plenty of bedrooms," Lance says, grinning, hopping onto her idea without a second thought. Lance has become someone that Pidge can say almost anything to, and she never has to worry about seeming bizarre because there's always a 90% chance that he'll follow through with it. "We have a guest bedroom, and the rooms for my siblings are empty ever since Marco and Veronica moved out. Luis still lives at home, though. There's the basement, too, which is basically a futon with a TV. It's like a man cave, but you could sleep down there if you wanted. I could take you to all the great restaurants, and - oh, you'd probably like the Castillo de la Real Fuerza..."

(In the morning, she doesn't remember falling asleep. She wakes to her empty bedroom, blankets tucked underneath her as if she's in elementary school again.)

She forgets about the entire conversation. It would be hard not to, as she and Lance have many conversations in the dead of night that never come back up again. They've talked about if a unicorn or a pterodactyl would win in a fight, if Hunk is ever going to start going steady with Shay, if Shiro's ex boyfriend will take him back or not. The duo sure do gossip a lot, but the serious stuff never leaves the two of them. Teasing Hunk about Shay, however...

It's why she's so surprised when, after they decide that they're going to Earth, Lance asks, "so, Pidgey, how long should we wait at our homes before visiting each other?"

Hunk splutters from next to where they're sitting. "You two made plans without me? Aw, guys, I thought we were a trio!"

"Hunky, don't be upset," Lance coos, crawling over from where he and Pidge had been taking inventory on the ground to console his friend. "Allura said we could be on Earth for a minimum of six months, and that most of it would be with the team! I'll see you loads."

Hunk shrugs, facial expression going from slightly irritated to a full-blown grin. "It's alright, dude, at least now you'll have an opportunity to-" Lance slams his hand over Hunk's mouth, and Pidge is so baffled by the past thirty seconds that she has no idea how to react.

"Lance," she says, voice not unkind as she tries not to stutter, "not that I don't want to, but when did we make these plans?"

Lance recoils from Hunk, who chortles now that his mouth is free. Now Lance is crawling back to her, and jeez, his knees are going to be covered in dirt. "Paloma," he says, and she only knows it's the word for pigeon because he's said it a thousand times, "you forgot that lovely talk? The one where you fell asleep on me and I tucked you in?"

Hunk whistles while Pidge tries to wrack her brain for the memory. She wishes that she could remember, and she thinks that she remembers a few vague pieces, like his hands tracing circles into her calves. "Dude, are you guys sure you're not dating already?" Hunk asks, raising his eyebrows at them.

Lance tucks a stray piece of hair behind Pidge's ear, causing her to bite down on her tongue, hard. He only did that to show off, she thinks, but that doesn't change the fact that it was electrifying. The knowledge isn't even sad to her. Whenever Lance crosses the romantic border with her, making her think that maybe, just maybe, he likes her, its softly, quietly, and when it's just the two of them. Gestures like this are surely just for show. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hunk," he answers, but his eyes say differently. "So, Pidge? Are we still on for our transcontinental visits?"

Pidge looks at him and forgets how to say no. "Sure," she says. "How about we wait a month first? That way we'll have time with our families after, too."

"Sounds fantastic - holy shit, is your tongue bleeding?"

Pidge goes to Arizona first. She'd been able to communicate with her father that she was on her way, but it had been short notice. She hopes beyond all hope that they're there. She hopes that they didn't go across the country for some mission, or that they're not visiting Italy...

Her worries are put to a halt when she gets to the front door. The house looks exactly the same as it did before she left, perfectly manicured, wonderfully taken care of. Pidge takes a second to look around at the garden and the sky before she can will herself to enter. However, she doesn't even have to knock before the door flings open, and, God, there's her mother. Her mother who she hasn't seen in over a year. Her mother who she abandoned. "Mammina," Pidge cries, and then she's actually crying. The two of them fall into a heap right in the doorway, crying and hugging and laughing. It seems like they hug for an eternity, but it still isn't enough. She hears footsteps go down the stairs, hard, and then there's two more people in their cuddle pile. Her eyes open to see Matt's face and the side of her father's chest, but they're all so closely held together that she can't see much.

"Matt," she says, more than a little out of breath. She hadn't even known that he was on Earth.

It's okay, though, because she's here. And they're here, too, and everything is going to be okay.

After what could either be a few minutes or an hour, they all withdraw. Pidge is the last one to get off of the floor, too numb and exhausted to force herself up. Matt offers her his calloused hand, which she accepts for no real reason other than the fact that she's touching a family member.

Her mom wipes away the tears fruitlessly as they keep coming down her cheeks. "Oh, Katie," she says. "Come in, do you want any hot chocolate? Tea?"

Nothing has ever felt so right so fast. "Cocoa please, mammina," Pidge says, and part of her wants to be here forever.

from: pidgey <3333
How's your first night home? 

from: Lance
To be completely honest I haven't stopped crying in the past 5 hours
How's the US?

from: pidgey <3333
Same. I miss Italy even more now that I'm at my home away from home.
It was nice seeing my mom. I haven't had hot chocolate in a long time.

from: Lance
Noted. Think Allura will let us stock up on Earth goods this time since we can actually prepare?

from: pidgey <3333
God I hope so. Not sure we'll have contact with her for another few months though. I guess Shiro's our best bet for that

from: Lance
god i still can't believe i have Takashi Shirogane's phone number

The month with her family flies by fast. She waits a week to ask them if she can take Lance to Italy and fly back to Cuba with him. Her mom looks a little pained at the thought of being separated so soon, but all it takes is reassurance that Pidge will be back in Arizona in no time. Since their house is so close to the Garrison, Pidge will be with her family for the majority of the six months. She feels badly for Lance, who won't get that same luxury.

Pidge curls up on the couch with her favorite ugly blanket, a cup of hot chocolate in her right hand. Her free hand is holding her phone, which she had just used to text various people - Lance about when they should buy tickets, Hunk about whether or not he's settling back in okay, her grandmother about whether or not she can bring a friend to Italy. Lance says "tomorrow, I'm about to pass out," Hunk says "I love cooking with Earth ingredients," and her grandmother says "Of course. Is he just a friend?"  in Italian. Pidge is embarrassed by the fact that it takes her a second longer than usual to translate the easy message -  even though Italian is her first language, she hasn’t spoken it in over a year. 

It feels a little sad. She doesn't want to become so disconnected from her home language.

"Hey, Pidge," a voice says, and she looks up to see Matt coming from down the stairs. She grins at him. It's nice seeing him in a t-shirt and gym shorts rather than his rebel gear. He must think the same way about her. Though it's so cool what both of them have done in space, and Pidge wouldn't change any of that for anything, it is nice to... be a teenager again. Hell, just to feel human again. 

"Come sit next to me," she tells him, locking her phone with her thumb and putting it on the coffee table. Her hot chocolate teeters towards the edge of the cup, but with a small woah and a jerk back, she saves the day. 

Matt slumps down on the couch with such force that the hot chocolate spills anyway. "Matt," she says, but since most of the spill just lands on her blanket, she's not actually upset.

"Sorry," he says, sheepish but not actually apologetic. He fumbles around for the remote. "Wanna watch a movie? I can't remember the last time that we had a nerd movie night."

Pidge grins. "Sure," she says, and she's so excited for something that used to just be mundane, "hey, the new Star Wars movie must have come out while we were gone, right? Let's see if it's on On Demand."

While Matt is trying to find the movie, Pidge's phone buzzes and lights up. On the screen is Lance's contact name. "Not even gonna say goodnight to me? Rude." reads across the screen, making Pidge's cheeks go red. Matt stills next to her, and it takes a second for her to realize that he's connecting some dots.

"So, Katie," he says, overly cheerful and Star Wars temporarily forgotten. She grimaces. "When were you going to tell me about Lance?"

Pidge opens her mouth to lie to him, but doesn't want to do it. She used to tell Matt everything. She still does, but there's this whole gap in his knowledge from the time he'd been missing. Sure, she'd caught him up to speed on the cool science stuff, but... "It's not what you think," she says instead. "It's... he's so confusing. That boy just makes everything so friggin' confusing."

Matt laughs at her, but it doesn't seem to be in bad taste, so she laughs too. "I'll fight him if I gotta," he says. "Shiro and Keith will back me up, I bet!"

Katie sips her hot chocolate, mulling it over. "I don't think you'll need to fight him. I don't think that he knows there's anything to fight about." The words twinge a little sad to her, but it's true. "Um, anyway, speaking of Shiro, have you heard anything from him?"

Matt shrugs, allowing the conversation to switch at the first sense of discomfort. "I saw him yesterday. He and Dad were going over the blueprints with the Alteans. Keith was around at some point, apparently, but not when I was there. Dad said Shiro was torn up about something personal but didn't pry."

"Oh," Pidge answers. She knows what that's about. Shiro never really mentioned Adam on the Castle of Lions, but it was pretty well-known that the two were a couple before the Kerberos mission happened. Knowing that Matt must know it, too, Pidge says, "regardless of whether or not they get back together, Shiro deserves the best. I hope it works out for him."

"Me too," Matt says. "Now text your boyfriend back so I don't have to hear your phone blow up during the movie."

Pidge chokes on air and spills the rest of her drink.

Lance's flight is about an hour longer than Pidge's, but she wants to meet him at the airport to help him, so their flights are about the same time. They text each other a billion times throughout the process, from "omg help my suitcase handle hit someone in the nuts" to "If one more person gets in my way i will die."  Pidge is so incredibly excited to see him again, as if she hadn't seen him just four weeks ago.

She misses the team. She misses them all so much. 

She's seen Shiro and Allura around a few times, but Hunk and Lance have been too far away to see in person. Keith's technically been around, but she hasn't seen him. She'd Skyped with Hunk once, but he seems to be too busy to do it more often. Pidge has debated asking Lance a few times if he would like to, but it feels weird. She's not entirely sure why.

The flight is too long to do during the day, so Pidge boards at about midnight. She's already tired from spending the night packing and repacking and double checking everything, so she falls asleep before the plane even takes off, slumped against the window and using her hoodie as a pillow.

The TV on the back of the seat in front of her shows that there are three hours left in the flight. Pidge rolls her eyes back, not wanting to make any sort of upset noise that would startle the person next to her.

Three hours until she's in the country she loves again. Four hours until she's with the person she-

Ahem.

Pidge speaks Italian for the first time in a year when she orders a coffee at one of the airport shops. It takes a second to slip back into, but after a few minutes she's thinking in Italian, too. It's not something that will last, since in a little less than an hour she'll be talking to Lance and translating for him, but it feels so right. 

She settles in by one of the seats next to the gate and refuses to move. She hadn't checked a bag, opting for a slightly larger carry-on instead, so she doesn't have to go back into the area before security yet. The gate isn't entirely crowded, but she wants to be in plain sight when Lance gets here. She wants to see him as soon as she can and show him around Italy immediately. She's been through this airport a few dozen times, so she knows what to do.

It takes forty-five minutes before her phone goes off. 

from: Lance
Landed and deboarding! You will see my handsome face in like ten minutes

from: pidgey <3333
I have suddenly decided that I must immediately go back to the US

from: Lance 
You're mean. I'm going to go visit Hunk instead.

from: pidgey <3333
RUDE, YOU ARE ALREADY HERE

Before he answers, Pidge looks up to see that people have started to get off of the plane. Too excited to look back down at her phone, Pidge shoves it into her pocket without even locking the screen. She waits, eyes darting from person to person. There's an elderly couple, a young child, a teenage girl, a -

A Lance. There's a Lance. 

He looks different and the same, somehow. His face is very much the same, but his hair seems to have been cut and styled a little neater. She's never seen the outfit that he's wearing, but it seems so Lance, a black-and-gray baseball tee under an unzipped hoodie. He hasn't seen her yet, and is looking in every single other direction, eyebrows just slightly furrowed -

God, she loves him. She loves him. She loves him.

The observation comes swiftly and repetitively, the thought being the only thing that can enter her mind for a few ticks. It's not a shock, since she's been thinking about it since the conversation with Matt, but seeing Lance in person has brought it all into full force. 

Pidge will deal with it later, the way that she deals with everything. But for now, she has to stop Lance from getting lost. Simply standing up is enough to draw his attention, and after a moment of surprise, he beams, bright and with shining white teeth. He stops in place, causing disgruntled murmurs from the people behind him. It's enough to make Pidge giggle as she abandons her luggage in favor of getting to a spot where the two of them aren't separated by belt barriers. 

He abandons his roller suitcase the second that he gets out of the way, pushing it over to an unoccupied spot. Pidge isn't sure who starts moving first, but they meet somewhere in the middle, her arms wrapping tight around his waist and his hands against her back. They fit well together, but she forces herself to push away after a few lingering seconds. "Hey," she says, trying to sound casual. "How was your flight?"

"Long," Lance says, exaggerating with his arms as if it can somehow clarify the time spent on the plane. "I slept for half of it and then looked out the window for the rest of it. The lady next to me got mad at me for letting light in, but, hey, what's a guy who's never flown over Europe to do?"

Pidge laughs at that. It seems quite Lance to get excited over the view from a plane window when he flies in space every day. Not that he'd ever admit it to a pretty girl, but Pidge has noticed that he's quite excitable, even about the small stuff.

She can almost imagine him trying to play it off. "Oh, this view?" he'd say, voice an octave lower for no reason at all. "Please, babe, this is nothing. I'm a Paladin. The best one." Imagining him saying all that both makes Pidge feel incredibly fond and lonely. It's weird, this whole crush thing.

"Well, you'll never have to see her again," Pidge responds after a long beat. "Come on, my nonna's waiting, and we still have to go through customs. You wouldn't make my grandmother wait, would you?"

"She'll love me," Lance says, grabbing his suitcase. "I'm sure of it."

Pidge's grandmother does love Lance, which is a surprise to absolutely no one. Her hip had been too bad to meet them inside of the airport, so Pidge and Lance find her standing next to her car. "Children!" her grandmother says in thickly accented English. "Oh, Katie, you look very older." She draws her into a hug, pressing the side of her chin into Pidge's temple. It's a warm, loving gesture, and it makes Pidge want to cry.

When they pull away, her grandmother goes after Lance, too, who accepts the hug with enthusiasm. "You must be Lance," she says. "You are so handsome!" It's more English than her nonna usually ever speaks, and a fleeting thought that she practiced saying that in preparation for Lance's arrival drives Pidge to giggles.

"Aw, thank you, ma'am," he answers, grinning. "Look who's talking! You're as stunning as your granddaughter."

Pidge flushes while her grandmother smiles at Lance, fond but not having understood him. With just a quick glance to Pidge, she translates: "He says you're good-looking, too." No point in making her grandmother think that there's something there.

"Flattery! Come into the vehicle!" her grandmother says, opening the backseat door for Lance to climb through. Pidge takes the passenger seat, and notices Lance scooting over a seat so that he's in her line of view. Dork.

The conversation that ensues is sincere but a bit awkward, since Pidge's grandmother speaks only a handful of English words and Lance speaks absolutely no Italian, but they make it work. Pidge hasn't done much translating before, but she tries, even though it's quickly becoming exhausting.

"Katie, passerotto," her grandmother says in Italian, "ask Lance what type of food he likes! I made dinner for you both, even though it's late at night."

"Do you like risotto?" Pidge asks him, turning back to look at him. His face is blank for a moment before he starts laughing. Her grandmother starts laughing, too, but they don't leave her in the dark for long.

"I have no idea what you just said," Lance says. "Stuck between two languages, huh? It happens to people not as cool as me."

Pidge doesn't even give him the luxury of making her embarrassed. "Let's see what you're saying when we're in Varadero," she tells him, slightly fumbling over the words. God, translating is hard. How do people do this for a living? "Also, I asked you if you like risotto."

Lance's eyes twinkle with mirth, not contradicting her prediction. "I'll eat anything," he says. "Except for Hunk's failed experiments that come out black."

"Fair."

They lay low for the rest of the evening. It's already nearing midnight in Italian time, even though the both of them feel like it should be the early afternoon. 

Her grandmother's house is a quaint two-bedroom with a back porch that overlooks the mountains. Lance had tried to take the couch, but after a few minutes of arguing, Pidge had forced him to take the guest bedroom. The couch isn't that bad. Pidge had slept on it sometimes as a child with Matt on the other end, so sleeping on it by herself seems immensely comfortable. Plus, the living room overlooks the view outside. She has always been grateful that her family comes from southern Italy, with the rugged landscape and the beaches just a few miles away.

Sitting on the chairs on the porch, she and Lance go over a few tourist ideas for the next few days and eat risotto. They're here for eight days, and intend to make the most of it. Lance wants to go to the beach, the nearby volcano, and almost every physical landmark. "We're on Earth, Pidgey," he says, as if she hasn't noticed. "Who would I be to not do as much of the hippie nature stuff as I can? Oh, and we should go to a museum or two, too. Being more cultured helps me with the ladies," he says, but for some reason it feels like he's only saying it for show, so she laughs. He forges on without letting her make fun of him. "Hey, want to point some places out to me from the railing?"

Before she can answer, he bounces out of his seat and leans over the railing. Pidge rolls her eyes even though no one can see her and moves to follow him, resting her elbows on the wooden fence and her chin in her hands. He's to her left, and when she looks, he seems to be mesmerized by the view. The scenery is dark in the late night, with only the city lights in the distance allowing for lighting. If she squints, she can make out one of the larger mountains on the horizon. 

She tells him the landmarks with ease, sometimes having to gesture to larger areas in the lack of light. She tells him about the first mountain that she ever hiked, about the ghost story surrounding the cabin at the base of a hill, about the shopping center that's bigger than anything she's ever seen. She talks and talks, and Lance doesn't. At first, she loses herself in her explanations, but after five or so minutes she realizes that he hasn't said a word.

"Sorry," she apologizes. "I guess I kind of rambled there. It's just so nice being here. I haven't been here since a year before we left."

A beat passes. Wind blows through her hair, causing her to shiver and run her hands over her arms. "I'll be much worse when we go to Cuba," Lance tells her. "I want to show you everything and introduce you to everybody."

"That sounds nice," Pidge says, mainly because she doesn't know what else to say. It does sound nice. She wants to meet who turned Lance into the person that he is. She wants to learn if any of his little catchphrases come from his family, and what parent he gets his eyes from. She wants to know all of it.

She feels the cold on her wrist before she recognizes that it's Lance's hand. She turns towards him to realize that he's already looking at her. Even in the dark, she can see his eyes searching hers, flicking back and forth from left to right.

"Pidge," he says. She waits for him to elaborate, but it seems that nothing's coming.

"Lance," she counters, feeling a bit lame. The moment has intensified, and it would be so easy to break it with a laugh and a step back.

So easy.

"I have a question," he continues, leaning just a little bit closer. Pidge's breath catches in her throat, so she squeezes her right hand into a fist to stay grounded.

"Go ahead," she tells him, wracking her mind for what it could be. It could be anything, from asking if she liked chocolate or vanilla better to asking the question that she dreads most: if she likes him.

Moments pass in silence, and she watches the expressions on his face shift. His eyebrows go up and down, his lips purse and then flatten back out. It's like he's worried.

"Can I call you Katie?" he asks, and it's so far from what she had been expecting. She releases her fist, which is aching a little bit now.

It's a good question on his part. Pidge has never even thought about any of her friends calling her that. The only person who has recently is Shiro, but that was only when they were alone and she was still looking for her family. Things have changed, and only family calls her Katie anymore. "Why do you want to?" she asks instead of answering.

Lance shifts a little, finally breaking their eye contact to look at the ground, and then at the mountains ahead. "Because the others call you Pidge," Lance says, voice low enough to make Pidge's heart beat faster. "And because... I like sharing things with you, just us."

She decides, right then and there, that Lance counts as family. "Okay," she says.

"Okay," he agrees. It's that moment that an especially strong breeze comes through, blowing Pidge's hair all over her eyes and face. He looks back at her, then, his earlier expressions traded for a smug one. "You cold, Katie?"

It's the first time that she's heard her given name leave his mouth, and it feels foreign and right at the same time. "A little," she admits. "Maybe we should go in soon?"

She sees the move coming before he even does it. Lance slides his jacket off of his shoulders and hands it over - bunched up into his fist. "Just a little longer," he says. "You can wear my jacket in the meantime."

(It smells like him.)

When they go to the beach the next day, Lance doesn't even say a word. He just puts down all of the beach equipment that he had insisted on carrying, yanks off his shirt, and then marches straight into the water, dunking his head under almost immediately.

Pidge rolls her eyes and sets up the beach chairs, placing the bag full of snacks and towels in between them. It seems that they're going to be swimming first. 

"Katie!" he calls from the water, as if there's nobody else on the beach. The area is actually quite crowded, but he still acts as if it's just the two of them. "Come swim! It's so refreshing!"

"Someone could steal our stuff," she says back, coming closer to the water's edge. Not that she actually thinks anyone would steal from them, but it's nice to give Lance a little trouble every now and then. "Do you want our banana chips getting stolen?"

Even with the distance between them, she can see him pout. "No," he tells her. "But I can keep an eye on them from here! I promise! Come swim!"

"Okay, okay, hold on," she says. She jogs back up to their stuff and strips off her shirt and shorts in exchange for her one-piece underneath - an olive green with a shoelace-like bow in the front. She'd been surprised while packing to see that it still fit her. Pidge stuffs her clothes back into the bag, making sure to go deeper to limit sandiness later. She hadn't bothered to bring Matt's glasses, knowing that bringing them to places like the beach must be a recipe for disaster. Pidge only has a moment to worry about whether or not the bag will tip and spill out before she turns and treads back towards the water. 

Lance stands in the shallow water when he sees her, waving as if she doesn't already see him. "You're looking good! Feel the water."

She obeys, sticking her foot in. She immediately withdraws with a hiss, feeling the uncomfortable tingles on her foot. "Oh my God, Lance," she says, "how do you-"

Before she can finish her sentence, he takes a few steps forward and grabs her by the waist. The second that she is lifted into the air, she realizes her own fate. "Oh, you jerk," she says, trying aimlessly to pull herself out of his grasp.

"I'm making it easier for you to get in," he tells her, wading deeper into the water.

"I hate you," Pidge tells him, and the last thing she hears is his laughter before he chucks her in. She hits the water with a scream and a splash, and it's so cold that it kind of hurts. Pushing off of the sandy bottom to resurface, she wipes at her eyes before glaring at him. He seems very proud of himself.

"You," she starts, running her hands through her hair to get the excess drops out, "are so going to get it!"

Pidge lunges for him, grabbing him by the shoulders and tugging him under the water. When he comes back up for air, she splashes him, getting water in his eyes.

"My eyes!" he cries out, way too dramatic. "Oh no, I've been blinded! How will I see!"

Him being unable to see for a split second does end up being an issue, since Pidge is facing the shore and Lance is still rubbing the salt out of his eyes. Therefore, neither of them see the wave behind them, which crashes onto their bodies and takes Pidge off of her feet to the point where she slams into Lance. She feels his hands on her hips, lifting her up, and when she opens her eyes again, it's to the sight of his smile.

"You saved me from eating sand," she informs him, a little dizzy. She's not sure if it's from the wave or from the feeling of his hands holding her up.

"That was the plan," he tells her, and then throws her in again.

Lance loves the nearest museum. They go after the beach, sand still in their hair even though they'd made use of the outdoor showers. Though he still seems to enjoy the paintings and the artifacts, he loves the sculptures. There's one in particular of a naked woman in a fighting pose, two feet in the air as she aims a bow. Lance marvels over it for minutes, though he does point out that boobs don't really look like that.

Pidge stifles a laugh and abandons him in favor of the old knives in a display case nearby. Some of them have leather sheaths that are long since faded and worn, but they do seem so pretty.

"I wonder who wielded that," Lance says from behind her, coming to be by her side. "Maybe it was a really badass guy with a dog that followed him everywhere and bit his enemies. Maybe it was the girl with the bow!"

Pidge shushes him, but her heart isn't in it. "Maybe it was," she says, inspecting the designs carved into the metal. "If I was cooler, I'd want daggers like that."

Lance frowns at her, seeming to be thoroughly confused. "But you are cool?"

"I appreciate the thought," she tells him. "And yeah, I kinda am. But dual wielding is for close-quarters combat, and I'm not the best at that."

"I'll help you!" Lance says immediately. Sometimes, Pidge wonders if his immediate offers are due to him not thinking them through, or due to him always wanting to do as much as he can for everyone. Maybe a little bit of both. "I mean, if you want to, but of course you don't have to. We can get you a pair of knives and you can be a cool thief, Monsters and Mana style!"

A lingering security guard shushes him for the noise, which Pidge takes as a cue to leave. She grabs him by the wrist and tugs him out of the exhibit.

Pidge's grandmother gestures her over to her chair the afternoon before she and Lance are supposed to leave. Their plans are to spend the evening packing and cleaning, and then they can eat junk food by the TV. It sounds like a pretty good plan to Pidge.

"Yes, Nonna?" Pidge asks, sitting down on the couch across from her relative. Lance is showering on the other side of the house, unable to take part. "Can I help you with anything?"

"No, no, Katie," her grandmother responds, waving away the offer. "I wanted to give you something. Open your palm."

Pidge does so, confused, and her mouth opens when a wad of bills makes her way into her hand. A quick count reveals that it's in the hundreds. Her grandmother isn't exactly rich. Pidge had overheard a few conversations before the Kerberos mission about finances after her grandfather's passing. "Nonna," she whispers, suddenly relieved that this conversation is happening in Italian, in case Lance is nearby. "This is too much. What is this for...?"

Her grandmother's eyes twinkle with the same shine as a young child. "Half of it is for saving the universe," she tells her, "and half of it is so that you can take that young man on a fancy dinner tonight."

Pidge feels her cheeks go hot. That sounds awfully romantic. "Oh! I'm not sure that he'd want to, but I can ask..."

"Katie," is the answer, soft yet firm, "I can tell that there is nothing that boy would rather do than accompany you to dinner tonight. Do it for your old grandmother. There's that formal place down the street, where your grandfather took me for our first date... He'd used half his paycheck on me."

The two of them cry together, half for the memory of old loved ones, and half for the knowledge that the Holts live too dangerous lives to promise any new ones.

Pidge wanders towards the guest room that Lance had been staying in, knocking on the closed door.

"Yes?" is the answer, and she hears shuffling around. The knowledge that he must be in just a towel lingers in the back of her mind, which she usually wouldn't care about, but it actually comes into play here.

"Don't get dressed yet," she tells him. A loud bang sounds from the room, along with a choking sound. "Um, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just peachy," Lance responds, his voice clearly strained. "Why can't I get dressed?"

Oh. She realizes why he's strained. Oops. "My nonna gave me some money to take you out for dinner," she says. "There's a pretty fancy place down the street, and, uh, I think you'd like it there?"

There's a beat of silence. "Katie," his voice sounds after a moment, sounding soft, "I'll be ready in thirty minutes, okay?"

She smiles, a little stupidly. "And I'll be ready in an hour," she responds with a laugh. "I still have sand in weird places."

He chokes again. Oops.

Lance cleans up well. He's not wearing anything overly fancy, but it's good enough for the restaurant, with a white button-up and a blue tie. Warmly, Pidge thinks about how much of the color blue she's seen added to his wardrobe in the past week. Even though he pilots the Red Lion now, he still embodies so much of Blue - his fun-loving nature, his empathy. It still suits him just as well as red does.

"So, Katie," he says, "I have absolutely no idea what this menu says, so you're going to have to help me out here."

"Oh, I don't know." She pretends to think about it, tapping her chin. "I think I might have more fun if I let you pick one at random and choose."

"Katie," he whines. "Help a dude out. Help a dude who is about to translate Spanish for you for over a week out."

"Oh, okay, fine," she grumbles, but she's biting back a laugh. "There's carbonara, polenta, steak, lasagna... Do you like pasta?"

"Have you met me?" he answers, the answer clearly a yes. "What's carbonara?"

That ends up being what he decides on, and Pidge thinks fondly of the fact that he's probably doing it in an effort not to be too picky. He jokingly brags sometimes about how important and deserving he is, but it's simple moments like this that truly define his character.

The waiter comes before she really has decided what she wants. "Would either of you like a wine to start off with?" he asks, mainly looking at Lance.

"I think we're okay, thank you," Pidge tells him, a touch worried by the fact that she'll have to translate and be fancy at the same time. "My friend here doesn't speak Italian."

The waiter laughs. "He can still drink! What are you two here to celebrate? An anniversary?"

The implication makes Pidge feel gooey. It must show on her face, because Lance is giving her a look somewhere in between surprised and amused. "No, no," she says. "We are visiting family here, but not staying. Tonight's our last night."

"Well, congratulations," is the answer, and the conversation ends after Pidge orders she and Lance a water. The latter who at least has the decency to wait until the server is out of sight before he talks.

"What was that all about?" he asks. "Your face went redder than the tomato sauce."

"Oh, um," Pidge says eloquently. She doesn't really know how to answer that. "It must be the heat in here, making me flush like that."

He squints at her, but lets it go.

"Do you want the window?" Pidge asks, looking down at the aisle in front of her. Lance, who had backed up in an effort to let her squeeze through, looks up. "I mean, I know it's my seat, but I figured that since I'm so short, I could lean on you and you could lean on the window. Makes more sense, right?"

Lance flails a little bit, though if you asked him, he'd call it moving majestically. "Oh, yeah!" he says, sliding through the seats. "Sure. I promise I won't get up to pee every five seconds and make you move."

She follows suit, slumping into the middle seat. God, she hates the middle seat. The line of people who had been annoyed at their pausing move past, not hesitating to scowl down at the two of them. Pidge looks at Lance, who seems to find the airport outside the window very interesting. "I think that we spend a lot of time in people's way," Pidge says. "I think the universe might riot against us."

Lance glances in her direction, smile plastered on. It seems a bit forced...? "To be fair, it only happens when I'm with you," he says. "It must be something about you that just turns me into a big immovable object."

"I think that you just get distracted by me," Pidge says pleasantly in an attempt to lighten the mood. It must be the travelling that's getting to him. "I am quite legendary, after all."

"Of course," Lance says, but he's teasing her.

She doesn't remember falling asleep, but she remembers waking up. Her cheek is smushed against something warm and soft. The warmth lingers alongside her left shoulder, too, the one away from Lance. Pidge opens her eyes just a crack, too tired to open them all the way. She sees Lance out of the corner of her eye, his own eyes closed as he leans against his own shoulder. She realizes, then, that his arm is around her, and that instead of leaning against the window, he was leaning back into her.

The thought kind of makes her throat catch a little, but she's so warm and sleepy that she doesn't care enough. She closes her eyes again and snuggles back into Lance's chest.

(She misses the sharp intake of breath above her.)

The first thing that Pidge notices about Cuba is the heat. Stepping off of the plane is like stepping into a sauna. In all honesty, she doubts that it's over 80 or so degrees, but the humidity is awful. There's dozens of people around her, speaking quick Spanish as they pass by. It's incredibly overwhelming, and she wonders if this is how Lance felt in Italy.

"Veronica dropped my car off this morning so we can just go straight to the house," he tells her as they walk through the airport, dodging bystanders. "It's not that far of a walk, but with luggage it is."

"Gotcha," Pidge answers, adjusting her hold on her roller bag. "Any plans for today?"

"Nah, not really," Lance says, and the answer is music to Pidge's ears. "You can meet the family, unpack, and we can plan out what to do for the week. My mamá is making paella. She in particular is really excited to meet you."

"I'm excited to meet her, too," she replies, allowing Lance to hold open the door to the parking lot for her. It's Lance's mother and Veronica that she thinks she's the most excited to meet. Veronica seems like the type of older sister that Pidge had always wanted - badass in her own right and a good role model. And Lance's mother, from the stories, always seemed kind.

Lance's car is bigger than she had expected. Pidge had actually expected some sort of sports car or "cool" car that Matt had fawned over with his straight boy friends, but Lance's is an SUV. Hell, it might even be considered a minivan.

"Don't laugh at me," Lance says, noticing her grin, but he starts laughing first. "I have nieces and nephews! I have siblings! Plus, I was the oldest out of my friend group at home, so when I got my license I was the designated driver for everything. I drove those bitches everywhere."

Pidge falls in love all over again, right then and there. Even in his jokes, the lengths that he would go to for friends is a little bit breathtaking. 

"I wasn't laughing," she informs him, and clambers into the passenger seat. Her roller bag is small enough that throwing it into the backseat is easy.

Lance gets in the car and immediately inspects it. "Ugh, Veronica's got so many iced coffee cups in the backseat. I swear, I'm the only one who takes care of Arlo."

Pidge looks at him in surprise, but he doesn't notice as he gathers the coffee cups and turns to exit the car in search of a trash can. "You named your car Arlo?"

"It was Luis's idea!" he exclaims, before ducking out of the car and heading towards a garbage bin. She watches in amusement as he throws them out, since apparently this is now the top priority.

When he climbs back in, he takes a moment to get reacquainted with the controls. "In complete honesty, I haven't driven a car in over a year. Think it's the same as piloting Blue or Red?"

"I wouldn't know," Pidge admits. "I was a horrible driver. I avoided it when I could."

Lance looks at her, not in surprise, but as if he's delighted that she's given him another detail to add to his ever-growing list of facts about her. "I didn't even know that you could drive when this all started."

"I had my permit."

With that, he hums, and focuses on getting out of the parking lot. During the short drive, he cracks a few jokes, but Pidge mainly focuses on how he only drives with one hand. The hand he doesn't use is resting on his knee, and she daydreams about tugging it over to her own knee and lacing her own fingers through his.

(God, she's so useless when it comes to him.)

When Lance had mentioned his house before, he had made it sound like a mansion. Pidge is almost pleasantly surprised to find out that it isn't one. Sure, it's a little bigger, but it doesn't seem to be one of those outrageously big and fancy houses that don't seem comfortable at all. Lance's family is waiting in the front yard when they get there. Pidge recognizes his mother and father from the pictures, and who must be his grandparents, but everyone else is kind of a blur. Once they're parked in the driveway, Lance's father opens the car door for her with a grin, beckoning her outside.

"Papi, I was going to do that," Lance complains, but it's lighthearted. He's beckoned out by his mother, a paler woman with a long ponytail, who tackles him in a hug. It's lovely to witness.

"Nonsense," his father says. Once they're out of the car, he shakes her hand. "You must be Pidge! I hear great things."

"I would hope so," she responds, smiling. Lance makes his way out of the car and opens the backseat, pulling out her bag. "Oh, Lance, I can grab th-"

"Shut it," he says, miming zipping his lips with his free hand. "You are a guest, and I shall treat you like one." And with that, he tugs her bag over towards the front door, being ambushed by his family on his way to put it away.

"Do not tell a pretty girl to shut it!" a voice scolds, and Pidge turns to see a tall and broad man approach her. "I'm Marco, Lance's oldest brother. My English isn't the best."

"You're fine," she assures him, shaking his hand as well. He has a ridiculously firm handshake. "English isn't my first language either, Italian is."

"Really?" he asks, voice laced with surprise. "I never would have guessed. My grandparents don't speak English very well, but the rest of us get along alright. We can translate for you."

"Thank you," Pidge says, and she means it. 

She likes the rest of Lance's family as much as she likes his father and Marco. Luis seems to be a bit of a stoner type, but he's smiley and tells her that it's good that she puts Lance in his place. Lance's niece and nephew both bounce around a lot and ask her a lot of questions, ranging from if her lion likes pets to if she has nail polish in space. His grandparents don't talk to her much due to the barrier gap, but both of them draw her into long hugs.

Veronica especially hits a soft part of Pidge's heart. She reminds Pidge of herself - the perfect combination of badass and nerdy. "You're the type of person I'm glad to meet," Veronica tells her, and introduces her to her girlfriend.

Pidge has never felt so at home so fast.

The inside of the house is clean but full of books and toys and furniture - busy but not overwhelming. The dinner table, already set, is huge, and Lance's mother leads her to sit down first. "You are a very special guest," his mother tells her, eyes full of an emotion that Pidge can't pinpoint. "We are so lucky to have you."

Dinner itself is an interrogation of the sweetest kind. Lance sits next to her, almost shoulder to shoulder with how close the seats are, and helps her answer some of the more complex questions. She's especially a good hit with the children, always having had a flair for storytelling. Pidge tells them some of the stories that are easy for her to talk about - like eating Hunk's inventions and going to the space mall with the team.

"So, Pidge," Veronica says halfway through dinner. There's a tone in her voice that makes Lance pause from next to her. "You seem like such a catch. Has anyone swept you up yet?"

The whole table goes silent, waiting for her answer. Pidge sips on her water while trying to figure out a way to answer. There's not really a tactful way to say no, I'm single, but I'm also so in love with your brother that I don't think I'll ever be able to look at anybody else ever again, is there? 

"Er, no," she says, trying not to look at Lance next to her. "Not yet. I'm in a very loving relationship with my robotics. I plan to elope with the entire field of science."

Most of them laugh, Lance included, but Veronica narrows her eyes. "But if something were to come up?"

It's now that Pidge realizes that Veronica must know about her feelings for Lance. Either from Lance himself (a horrifying thought) or just from her behavior in the past ten minutes (an equally horrifying thought.) "Oh, uh... sure. I don't know. Probably?"

It's a ramble, but it seems to satisfy Lance's sister. "Interesting," she says. "Well, I know a bunch of Varadero lesbians if you want me to set you up with one."

Lance chokes on his paella, and on the other side of him, Luis thumps him on the back. Pidge, thankfully with nothing in her mouth, just snorts a laugh and smiles politely. "I think I'm alright, but thank you anyway."

Pidge wakes up in the guest bedroom to knocking on her door. She groans at the noise, turning onto her side in the full size bed. Now that she's awake, the sunshine shining through the window is more of a hindrance than it should have been.

"Katie?" Lance's voice echoes through the door. "Sorry to wake you - we're having breakfast and then going fruit picking. You might wanna start getting ready now."

She hums, to sleepy to answer. However, when Lance repeats her name again, she pushes herself to a sitting position, leaning on her hands. "Mmkay."

His laugh is loud, but not unkind. "You sound tired. How late did Veronica keep you up?"

"Late," Pidge answers, shaking her head in an attempt to wake up faster. She and Lance's siblings had spent a lot of the night out in the backyard, telling her stories of their childhoods and of Lance. Lance had gone to bed early, exhausted by the plane ride. "She and Antonia are my new favorite people. I'll be right down, caro."

"Oh, so you're playing dirty with words I don't know, huh?" Lance says, and it's only then that she realizes the pet name she'd said. Oh, shit. "Two can play at that game, mi reina."

Even though Pidge doesn't know the meaning, she can tell that it's some term of endearment, which -

"Pidge, what was that thump?" Lance sounds overly worried, as if Pidge could have somehow gotten killed in a room with only a bed and a closet. Perhaps all of the time spent in space with actual threats has made him extra on edge - the same thing has happened to Pidge.

"I'm okay," she says from the floor.

Call Pidge ignorant, but she hadn't really known that people went orange picking. Apple picking, sure. Berry picking, sure. Orange picking? She'd never heard of it.

That doesn't mean that it's not fun, though. Paired up with Lance's niece and nephew, the four of them go split up from the majority of the group and find their own set of rows, currently unoccupied from the other fruit pickers lingering nearby.

Lance and his niece have a quick conversation in Spanish that ends with Lance pointing at Pidge. Before she can ask what it's about, little Carolina tugs on her hand, which she hasn't let go of since they first got here. "Pidge, I can't reach the oranges. Can I go on your shoulders?"

"Of course!" she agrees, squatting down so that Carolina can clamber on. "I'm too short to pick them, either, so you'll have to pick for the both of us, okay?"

Carolina giggles. "Okay!" She throws her legs around Pidge's shoulders and puts her hands on the top of her head. "We will pick more than Lance and Eli both."

Pidge places both of her hands on Carolina's ankles, keeping her in place. "Lance, you're going down!"

"Oh, says the Italian!" Lance teases, crouching down to let Eli climb on his back, too. "You didn't even know that orange picking existed. We do this at least once a year, right, kids?"

"Yep!"

Even though they're technically competing, the four of them walk side by side. Carolina and Eli have their own conversation while Lance and Pidge hold their own. She can't tell what the kids are talking about, but the tone seems teasing. 

After almost a half-hour of orange picking, it becomes apparent that Carolina and Pidge are not going to win. Pidge loiters back, letting distance take Lance out of earshot. "Hey, Carolina," she whispers, devious smile on her face. "I think we should steal some of their oranges."

Carolina giggles at that. "But we gotta be sneaky," Pidge says, trying to look up but unable to see much of Carolina besides the legs dangling beside her. "Can you bat your eyelashes?"

"What's bat? The animal?"

The mistake makes her fondness for the little girl grow stronger. Quiznak, Pidge could really get used to this family. "No, not in this case! Let me rephrase: Can you look really innocent to distract them?"

Caroline laughs again, just loud enough to make Lance glance over. "Yes! I can do that!"

So the two of them waddle over towards Lance and Eli, who are currently trying to grasp a particularly high-up orange. "Hey, Lance," Pidge calls, trying to keep the laugh out of her voice. "How goes the fruit picking?"

"Oh, well, you could say that it's very... fruitful," he answers, giving her a wink. "Our harvest will be a very bountiful donation to the abuela overlord."

Pidge laughs. "I'm guessing there's a lot of orange juice in your family?"

"Oh, definitely-" he starts, but is cut off by Eli above him.

"Lance! Carolina tried to steal some of our oranges!"

"Escape mission!" Pidge cries, the laughs that she was trying to conceal bubbling up. "Run, run!" With Carolina on her back, she sprints out of the row of trees.

Lance is hot on her heels. She hears his gasp of betrayal, and wishes that she could turn around to see his facial expression. "You thief! You scum! Eli, let's get them!"

The four of them running and laughing warms Pidge's body more than any blanket ever could.

Veronica and Antonia take the kids for the next day. "You two should have some time to go out and explore," Veronica had told her, having pulled her aside after breakfast. "Plus, maybe talk about some of that important stuff."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pidge had said, but the tone in her voice had given away everything.

"Pidge, I really like you," Veronica had said, and had sounded like she genuinely meant it too. "I think that you two could be happy together, and I know there's something there. Just - please, do something about it before you leave? For his sake?"

So, with a little less than a week left, Pidge had promised to tell Lance before she leaves for Arizona. It's not a promise that she's sure that she can keep, but she also really, really doesn't want to let Veronica down. Not only because she's Lance's sister, but because she's someone that Pidge can relate to.

The conversation with Veronica was the main reason that Lance and Pidge end up at an aquarium about a half-hour from the house. It's huge, but doesn't seem to be completely overflowing with parking, which is promising.

"I bet you'll know a bunch of facts about all of them," Lance teases. They've parked but are hesitating on walking in. Pidge isn't entirely sure why, but won't say no to a few quiet minutes together. "Even the ones I've never even heard of."

Pidge laughs as she stumbles out of the car, still not used to the height of Lance's SUV, "Biology isn't my strong suit, especially marine biology. Unless they start making fish robots, I think I'll be pretty uninformed."

"I haven't been here since I was tiny," he tells her. "I used to go here with Marco and Veronica and follow them around... Luis never liked this type of stuff, he was always out of the house, even as a kid." For a few minutes, as they walk to and through the entrance, he talks. He talks about his favorite exhibit, he talks about the jokes Marco would make, and about the ice cream shop that they liked to go to after. Pidge, for once, listens more than she speaks, and finds that she likes this side of him. She likes knowing that he had a good upbringing.

After paying admission, the first thing that Pidge notices is the lack of crowds. Sure, they are a few people scattered at every exhibit, but the lack of loud and boisterous crowds is refreshing. Pidge had agreed to come here expecting to be annoyed by the loud atmosphere the entire time, but perhaps now she can actually enjoy the exhibits thoroughly, which is an exciting thought.

They make their way through slowly but surely. Pidge laughs at the sea otters, and Lance imitates the turtle from Finding Nemo when they pass that exhibit. The jellyfish mesmerize the both of them for a good ten minutes, just staring at the colors and shapes under the glowing light.

Pidge has a fun time, but her favorite part is that she and Lance do it all together. Her never abandons her in favor of continuing to another exhibit when she takes a bit too long, nor does he even stray farther than a foot or two. They're side by side the entire time, cracking jokes and whispering comments of awe.

With her family in Arizona and her grandmother in Italy, Pidge realizes that there's nowhere she'd rather be than wherever Lance is.

The next few days are spent in historical landmarks - old famous buildings, valleys for hikes and walking, and a museum or two. Pidge finds all of it interesting, but finds the best part of it is spending it getting to know Lance's family. 

That's why Antonia's suggestion of going to a restaurant with karaoke night for dinner is specifically entertaining. Lance, of course, is immediately all in for the idea, teasing Antonia with whether or not she and Veronica will do a lovey-dovey duet.

The restaurant itself isn't overly formal, having more of a bar feel to it, letting Pidge feel perfectly comfortable in her brother's flannel and a pair of leggings. It's weird, wearing clothing specifically tailored for women after a year of her brother's old ugly cargo pants. She notes as such to Lance's mother, who pauses.

"Lance mentioned that you were pretending to be a boy," she says, hesitating as if she's choosing all of her words carefully. "He didn't tell us why."

The mere act of inaction is enough to make Pidge's heart swell up. "It wasn't really his place to say," she says, smiling at him from across the table. It's kind of funny, having a serious conversation while Lance's brother belts out a Spanish rap song a few feet away. "I snuck into the Garrison while I was searching for my family. My father and brother were falsely declared killed in action, and I felt that that was the best way to get answers."

The statement causes a brief moment of silence, and then everyone talks at once. Lance's grandmother, who must have gotten a translation from someone, places a gentle hand on Pidge's shoulder from next to her. "Oh, darling," Lance's mother says, and she looks like she's on the verge of tears. "That must have been so hard. I can't even imagine how I would feel if two of my family were ..." she trails off, firmly grasping Pidge's hand even though they're not directly across from each other. "But they're okay? They're both safe?"

"Yeah," Pidge agrees. She doesn't let the tears that make their way to her eyes fall, instead blinking them away with a bright smile. "They're both in Arizona right now. Safe."

Before anyone can answer, Luis slumps down in his chair and wipes sweat away from his forehead. "Man, that was rough! Which one of you is up next? Come blow our foreign guest right out of her seat."

"Pidge only gets a free pass because all of those songs are in Spanish," Lance huffs, but he's smiling, as if the heaviness in the air has immediately shattered. It seems like all he ever does anymore is smile. "I swear, if we ever go to one of these in America, Pidge, you are singing your tiny heart out."

"I will if you go belt one out right now," she teases. "I promise I won't use any of it for blackmail material."

Before he can even open his mouth, everyone at the table who understood her starts chanting his name over and over. For a second, Lance just sits there and rolls his eyes, but within a second he's back into his Loverboy Lance persona, standing up and bowing towards the table's occupants. "If the waiter comes, get me what Veronica gets. She has good taste in everything." He winks at Antonia, who gives him the middle finger. Pidge laughs at the exchange, noting that Lance seems to be more comfortable flirting with clearly unavailable people than anybody else.

Pidge diverts her attention away from the table conversation in favor of watching Lance get set up. He hesitates by the song list, going through the clipboard and occasionally looking up in confusion. It's enough to make Pidge light up. There must be one that he decides on, because he glances up at her, smirks, and then tells it to the attendant. Pidge watches the attendant laugh and then go to set it up.

"Ten pesos says that it's a love song," Marco mutters, and lifts an eyebrow at Pidge. "Have you two sorted that out yet?"

"We are working on it," Veronica answers for her, which is good, because Pidge is too busy going beet red to answer. "And no questioning about it in front of Lance is permitted at this time, thank you very much."

"Lance is all the way over there," Marco points out. "I'm just sayin'! No time like the present."

The first few chords of Lance's song plays, and the table lets out a collective groan. Pidge blinks at them, having never heard the song before and not understanding the reaction. "It's a very common song around here," Lance's mother explains. "Sort of repetitive. And, uh, Marco was right about his hunch."

Pidge doesn't think she'll ever stop turning red. 

Even if she hadn't been told it was a love song, she could have quickly deduced it by herself. She can't understand any of the words, but the way that his tone changes from soft and breathy to loud and unwavering in just a few seconds is a strong giveaway. The worst part of it all is that he keeps looking at her. And pointing.

Does this mean he has the same feelings? The sentence is bizarre to even think about. She doesn't seem to be Lance's type, right? Lance likes the girls that are more in touch with their own femininity, with makeup and dresses and whatnot. It's not that Pidge feels inferior to those girls, but they aren't her. Sure, she revels in being able to wear more feminine clothes on Earth, but she could never pull off the bright-lipstick and low-cut dress look.

But the way that he's looking at her just looks so sincere, eyes soft even as his voice belts out what must be the chorus. It's enough to fool her into the fact that maybe, just maybe...

He likes her too.

"I'm going to die," she whispers, barely audible. Veronica cracks up. 

The next morning, Pidge sits on a barstool with her morning cup of coffee as Lance packs up some food. Sandwiches, some leftover dinner from what his mother had made throughout the week, drinks... She had offered to help, but he had teasingly told her that with her limited knowledge of his kitchen, she would just get in his way. 

"There's a very pretty spot in the park over some cliffs," Lance tells her as he zips up some of his mother's garlic knots into a Ziploc bag. "Not, like - cliff cliffs, so they just go down a few meters. If we're lucky, we might be the only ones with the same idea."

Pidge hums. She hasn't been on a picnic since the escapades she used to go on with Matt. The two of them would watch the sunset over one of the hills near her nonna's house, and then sneak out to go prowl around downtown. Matt's rebellious phase never really died out, neither has Pidge's, but it was in full-force back then. 

"You're daydreaming, paloma," he tells her. "Is it about me? Do I have an eight-pack in it?"

"Oh, shut your quiznak," she responds. "I was just thinking about the last picnic I went on. Matt got stung by a bee and then told some American girl that it was a gunshot wound." They hadn't known what gunshot wounds looked like, back then. Sometimes Pidge wishes she still didn't.

Lance laughs, putting the last Ziploc into the cooler and closing it. Pidge watches as he opens a closet and pulls out a blanket, placing it in front of her. "It's weird thinking about him being a flirt," Lance says, "since now he's just so stoic. He and Keith could have a battle of glaring."

"Oh, Keith would win," she tells him, getting an idea but almost too shy to voice it. "The month before I left for Italy, Matt was almost the way he was before Kerberos. Hey, um, maybe when you're in Arizona for Voltron purposes, you could come over? Get to know my family a little more?"

Lance blinks. "I'd love to," he answers, and she can tell that he's being honest just by the tone of his voice.

The moment is broken by Veronica busting through the front door to the house, with the two kids on her heels. "Guys, I am so sorry," she says, "but I just got called into an emergency shift. Can you two take the kids on your picnic?"

Pidge wonders why this seems to be so apology-inducing. "Well, of course!" she says, and looks over towards Lance, who seems to have a second of something flash over his face before he pulls his features into an award-winning smile. "That's fine, right, Lance?"

"What would a picnic be without my two favorite troublemakers?" he responds. "Should we pack some juice boxes, then?"

Lance insists on carrying everything to the car, with the exception of Carolina's teddy bear which she refuses to let go of. Sitting in the passenger seat and twisting back to see two bright-eyed kids in car seats makes Pidge feel incredibly ... gentle. As if this is something she's never considered, a potential future that could await her after Voltron. She would never be a good stay-at-home mom type, of course, but plenty of parents could balance both. Children of her own, picking them up from school after a day of coding work...

Pidge accidentally slams the metal of the seat belt buckle into her thigh when she realizes that the kids she's imagining have Lance's eyes.

I'm hopeless, she thinks. Even if he does have some sort of feeling for me, there's almost no way it's as intense as mine. I'm imagining having his babies and I haven't even told him I think that he's cute yet.

She doesn't realize that she's smiling until Carolina pipes up. "Lance, Pidge is blushing."

He grins, doing the soccer-mom maneuver of putting his hand on the back of the passenger seat, even though cars have been equipped with back-up cameras since the 2010s. "Now you're thinking about my eight pack."

"Oh, eat a-"

The picnic itself is as fun as Pidge had expected. They lay the blanket out on the rocky "cliff," which in reality just goes down to another area of the park. They eat their sandwiches and sip out of the juice boxes that they steal from the kids. It's ... nice. Calm. Peaceful.

Even when the kids are bickering a few feet away about who stole whose churro, it still seems like a type of calm that Pidge has grown way too accustomed to way too fast.

"I didn't have any," Carolina whines, hands on her hips and kicking up dirt. "You ate both of them!"

"Nuh-uh!" Eli huffs, throwing his sugar-sticky fingers in front of her face in an attempt to make her go away. "I only had one!"

As amusing as the interaction is to watch from the blanket, it's enough to make Pidge think. The weirdest things seem to bring Pidge into existential thought processes these days. "Lance?"

He looks up at her, churro stuffed in his mouth. "Yeah?" he says through the fried dough, some remnants spitting out of his mouth. It's so far from suave, but it makes Pidge grin at him like an idiot. He calls her a nerd, and then acts like that.

"Was I a jerk to you?" At the unexpected question, Lance looks up at her with bug eyes. He swallows half of his churro and coughs his way through the rest. For a brief moment, Pidge thinks that she's going to have to do the Heimlich maneuver on him, but he holds his hand up to her to say I got it and doesn't choke. "Sorry," she apologizes. "I didn't expect that question to be choking-worthy."

"It was, apparently," Lance says, grabbing for his bottle of water. After he takes a sip, he asks, "what makes you think that?"

Pidge shrugs. "I - I don't know. At first I was shutting you and Hunk out because I had to, but even after that... I feel bad. I feel like I owe you an apology."

"Apology accepted," Lance says, immediate. "Pidge, you're fine. That was the most stressful year of probably our entire lives. Shiro died and then un-died. We fought Zarkon. We fought Lotor. We found your family after you searching for almost a year. Look - we've all snapped at each other. It happens. Even if no apologies are spoken, we feel them anyway, right? Remember when Keith got on your case for thinking about leaving the team? Haven't you forgiven him?"

"Of course."

"So why is this any different?"

Pidge closes her eyes. She leaves the day after tomorrow. She told Veronica that she would tell him at some point. It takes almost all of the courage in her bones to say: "Because- because I hope that you and I have a different type of relationship."

With her eyes still closed, she hears Lance sniff. "Katie, I need to tell you-"

"Uncle Lance!" Eli calls, so close that Pidge's eyes fly open due to the surprise. His lower lip is wobbling. "I skinned my knee on the rocks!"

"Oh no," Lance says, and whatever emotion that was in his voice just moments before isn't there anymore. Instead, its replaced with the gentle ease that goes into his tone whenever he talks to the children. "Here, we brought band-aids. They have Thor on them, too!"

Whatever moment that was there just a second ago is gone, now, and Pidge leans back onto the blanket to look at the sky.

Pidge leaves Cuba for Arizona in ten hours, forty-six minutes, and twenty-three seconds.

It's almost midnight, and she's pacing around the guest room that she's been staying in. Her shoes are kicked off to eliminate noise, even though that just makes her socks slip on the floor.

She knows, logically, that she doesn't have to do anything right now. She can just go to sleep, and then see Lance in the morning when he brings her to the airport. If she did want to tell him about anything romance-oriented, it could wait until then. Or, hell, it doesn't even need to happen at all. She can go to Arizona, work hard for a month and get over Lance. Then, by the time he gets there, they can act as though they never tiptoed over the line between friendship and love.

Another thing that she knows, though, is that that won't work. She doesn't just have a crush on him - she feels so much for him, and so strongly. It isn't anything that she could get over in a few weeks. And if she was still acting distant by the time everyone was around, it would interfere with Voltron.

She wishes that she could leave all of her feelings for him in Cuba and go to Arizona free of her emotions. It would make everything so much easier... She should be excited to go home, but now it just feels like saying goodbye to another opportunity.

Pidge, she thinks to herself, rubbing her eyelids. Katie Pidge Holt, you owe it to Lance to get your skinny Italian ass up there and at least tell him how you feel. You know that he'll be good about it. Maybe him rejecting you now will make you get over him faster, and then Voltron will be safer by the time he gets up to the states...

Plus, another voice in her head whispers, quieter but no less important, there's a chance that he won't reject you, and you two can make out a little. 

Before thinking it through, Pidge opens the bedroom door. The hallway outside is silent, given the late hour, so she takes extra care in sneaking down the small flight of stairs to to Lance's room. With Veronica and Marco moved out, the rooms next to him are empty, so once she lands at the bottom she cares a little bit less about how heavy her footfalls are.

She loiters outside of Lance's door, hand poised to knock. However, the confidence that had taken her to his door has drained. If she knocks at his door, she'll have no excuse but to tell him everything. It will be obvious what she's trying to do.

Maybe it's best if I just go back to my room, she thinks. I can get some sleep before the flight. Forget about all of this.

Pidge sighs, and leans her forehead against the wood of his door. Why is putting her fist against a door so hard?

If she doesn't knock, if she just goes back to her bed, she'll be giving up any idea of being with him, at least for now. She'll be giving up his fingers tugging hair out of her eyes, his hands on her hips on the beach, his gentlemanly acts of going out of his way to do stuff for her. Not to say that if she doesn't tell him now, she'll never tell him, but the option seems so foreign. She worries that the second that she's without Lance for more than a few hours, any courage will disappear from her body and she'll be stuck in a limbo of never telling him, never saying anything at all.

Pidge realizes, mutely, that she doesn't want to give up on this. On Lance.

She knocks.

"Lance?" she stage whispers, trying to find the balance between too loud and too quiet. "Are you awake?"

No vocal answer arises, but the door cracks open. On the other side is Lance, who looks as though he hasn't gotten any sleep at all. He's in a muscle tank and plaid pajama pants, clearly not having expected to see her tonight. "What- what are you doing?"

She pushes her way inside, looking around Lance's bedroom. She hasn't actually been in here yet. The walls are a light gray and there are posters all over. Clothes are littered around, but no trash or food is really apparent. It's very Lance to border the line between busy and messy. "Your room's nice," she says, mainly because she doesn't know how to respond to him yet. "Your room on the Castle was a lot cleaner, though."

"Hey, rude," Lance says. "Your room on the Castle was a pigsty, so you have no right to be talking."

She beams at him, teasing and mischievous. "That's why we always had gaming nights in your room."

He chuckles at that, but doesn't continue the same line of conversation. "Katie," he says, and his voice is lighter than it was just moments before. "What brings you the Lance cave?"

Pidge has always been known for liking computers more than people. She could tell you any code, any line of programming that went wrong - but she can't do the same with lines in a conversation. 

Words are hard.

Actions? Not so much.

She takes a step closer to Lance, who doesn't back up. She takes another step until they're almost too close, her nose almost touching his as she looks up at him. Tentatively and slowly, she brings her hand to his front, curling her fingers into his shirt. He doesn't say anything, just watches her with half-closed eyes.

"Tell me if I'm overstepping," she murmurs. She forsakes his shirt in favor of bringing her hand up his chest, and then letting it lay on his shoulder.