#Blue Sharpshooter Boi (VLD: lance) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quintessenceofdust73 · 2 years

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STEAMPUNK’D

A VLD Plance AU (WIP)

I am writing this as a gift for my friend @niazelki and all of the other wonderful people at the Idyll-Chatter Discord. Feedback and questions are welcome.

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“Well, how did it go?” Pidge Gunderson heard Hunk Garrett ask when Lance took his usual seat upon the long bench at the far end of the galley’s last dining table. The three friends had favored this table because it was nearest to the large starboard portals of the HMS Atlas, and the view from the airship at this altitude was spectacular.

“I didn’t ask her,” the young man replied. “She wouldn’t have said yes anyway.” Lance had removed his heavy brass-studded leather bandolier of ammo and set it beside him on the bench. He wore it nearly all the time when he was on duty. He seldom went anywhere without it or the twin double-barreled pistols that were holstered low upon his slim hips.

“You don’t know that for a fact,” the burly young mechanic replied. “She might not have rejected you. Anyway, we’re all expected to have dance partners for the Prince’s cotillion. You should try asking her after supper.”

Lance glared at his friend. “Hunk, have you forgotten that I’m nothing more than a poor farm boy and she’s a princess?”

Pidge shuffled nervously and adjusted the tweed newsboy cap and goggles that he always wore. It was warm in the galley that evening. Hunk had the sleeves of his sturdiest work shirt rolled up beneath his orange mechanic’s bib overalls, and Lance wore only a lightweight blue vest over his white high-collared work shirt. He had left his usual navy long coat in his quarters. Pidge, however, had taken to wearing his bulky, oversized grey coat over his dark green vest and mandarin-collared work shirt all the time, no matter the weather conditions. Hunk had often wondered if his young friend suffered from some ailment, but then abandoned that notion. Perhaps Gunderson was just an eccentric, the way many brilliant people often were.

“What do you know, Gunderson?” asked the lanky sharpshooter suspiciously.

“Yeah,” said Hunk, glancing down at their young companion, who was far shorter than most boys his age. “What is it that you’re not telling us, Pidge?”

“Lance,” the young boy began, “I’m not sure you want to hear this, but...”

“Out with it, Pidge,” said Lance impatiently.

“Princess Allura asked Commander Keith to escort her to the ball, and he said yes.”

“WHAT?!” Lance exclaimed.

“See, Lance? Commander Keith started out as a poor orphan but he had a chance with the princess—“ Hunk began.

“Were you listening, Hunk?” Lance asked angrily. “The princess asked him! That means she likes him! I never had a chance with her.” Lance huffed in annoyance, then crossed his arms and stared at his bowl of stew while his two friends ate in silence, knowing that Lance had been grappling with his unrequited infatuation with the Princess of Altea since the day they first met.

After several long moments, Hunk broke their silence. “Have you considered asking Miss Romelle?” He asked carefully, hoping that he wouldn’t further upset his friend. “She’s a real beauty, that one.”

Lance chewed upon a savory morsel beef stew before replying. “Captain Sven Holgersson has already asked her.”

“What about Miss Jenny Shaybon?” asked Hunk. “As I recall, you really used to fancy her.”

Lance frowned. “She made a complete fool out of me when we were younger. I was ready to lay the world at her feet, but all she cared about was taking advantage of my devotion to make all of her other wealthier suitors jealous.”

“You shouldn’t waste your time on women like that,” Pidge observed. “A manipulative minx like her isn’t worth your time.”

“Hunk is escorting Lady Shay of Balmera,” Lance said. “The princess is going with the commander, and everyone else we know has a dance partner except me.”

“And me,” Pidge said in a small voice. Hunk thought he may have been imagining things, but the boy seemed embarrassed by his own admission. When had their little Pidge cared about cotillions or romances? The boy seemed to have a mind only for alchemy and automatons, mathematics, and all of those mad scientific experiments he had set up in the airship’s laboratory.

Lance chuckled. “Don’t tell me that our little Pidgeon is finally starting to take an interest in the fairer sex!”

Pidge shook his head vehemently. “No, there definitely aren’t any girls that I am interested in waltzing with.” Pidge’s wide hazel eyes met Lance’s deep blue gaze for a fleeting moment, then the boy blushed and looked away. “I may know someone you could escort to the cotillion though,” Pidge’s eyes darted back and forth as if his brilliant mind was rapidly calculating the solution to a very complicated equation. “I’ll let you know for certain when we make port at the Garrison.”

*****

“Princess, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go through those before you give them to charity,” Pidge said as the strongest pair of the airship’s automatons picked up the battered old brass-bound trunk. The two metal men wore matching military-style caps and coats, similar in the style to what most of the Atlas crewmen wore.

“But those a girls’ things,” Romelle observed, commenting on the assortment of ruffled blouses, corsets, skirts, hats, and boots that the Princess had worn when she was a younger teenager. Some of Romelle’s old discarded things from her schoolgirl days were packed away in the heavy trunk as well.

“Well, there’s a market for clockwork girls these days, and I can’t sell my latest automata in public without a proper wardrobe. It would be decent” the young inventor replied. “Good day ladies! And thanks again, Princess.”

*****

“Pidge! There you are!” Lance exclaimed happily when he barged into the laboratory unannounced. There were cogs, wheels, springs, and tools strewn about on nearly every table and workbench, along with the torsos, heads, and limbs for half-completed automata. Beakers and tubes of brightly colored, glowing liquids from several alchemical experiments bubbled and fizzed, while clockwork miniatures ambled about on their little mechanical legs upon the lab tables, performing tedious, repetitive mundane tasks, such as stirring or pouring. There was an assortment of miscellany in every corner: leather bound volumes of facts and formulas, complex diagrams and schematics, a silver-tipped lion-headed walking stick, what appeared to be the handle and metal skeleton of an old parasol, leather belts and pouches, a beaded bag, shell casings, a few grenades, and several brass contraptions that emitted little puffs of steam as their tiny gears turned.

Pidge slammed the lid of the old trunk he had been rifling through with a muffled bang and a startled gasp. “How many times have I told you—“

“Not to barge into your lab unannounced? I’ve lost count,” Lance replied with a broad grin that only accentuated his handsome features. Pidge blushed when he saw that a fancy corset was hanging halfway out of the trunk, preventing the lid from fully closing. He lifted the lid hastily to shove the it back inside before closing and locking the trunk. “Coran already has the game board and dice ready. Come on, Pidge, you don’t want to miss Pike and Meklavar’s latest adventure.”

Pidge grinned impishly at Lance, then followed him as they exited the laboratory. The Monsters and Mana adventure game was one of the diversions that Lance and Pidge routinely enjoyed when they weren’t busy working. It was one of the few things that would lure Pidge out of the laboratory besides mealtimes or Lance presenting a dramatic reading from the latest issue of The Killer Phantasm penny dreadful.

*****

Author’s notes...Some possible scenes that can go here:

Keith with a katana, sword practice with samurai Shiro. Shiro has a clockwork arm.

“Sharp work, samurai,” said Lance sarcastically. (This line has to be used somehow.)

Keith and Allura swordplay and lowkey flirting. Lance leaves to visit Pidge.

*****

“Ay, she’s a looker!” Lance exclaimed when he barged into Pidge’s laboratory unannounced, as usual. “Don’t worry, Pidge. Your secret is safe with me.”

Pidge gave a startled gasp. Secret? What had Lance discovered?

The female automaton that Pidge was currently building was deactivated and standing as still as a mannequin, apparently one being used for modeling a ruffled lavender blouse and skirt, a fancy white embroidered bodice and apron, a few layers of white ruffled petticoats, silk stockings, and a pair of low-heeled white lace-up ankle boots.

“What secret?” Pidge asked while raising one inquisitive brow, trying to remain calm.

“You don’t have a date for the Prince’s ball, so you’re building yourself a secret clockwork girlfriend!” Lance grinned broadly, thinking his observation was quite hilarious.

Pidge glared at him. “This is an automaton, not a secret girlfriend, you dolt, though I could always build you a clockwork girlfriend to flirt with since you always seem so desperate for female companionship.”

Lance gaped at his friend, then snapped his mouth closed with a frown, pretending to be shocked into silence by the insult.

Pidge continued, “I’m equipping this female model with a proper wardrobe before before she goes to market as a lady’s maid. I made her a brand-new pair of silk bloomers to wear under her petticoats. Want to see?” Pidge grinned slyly. “She’s anatomically correct.”

Lance snorted. “How would you know? Have you ever seen a naked girl outside one of your anatomy textbooks?” He folded his arms and stared down at his young friend, smirking in satisfaction as if offering a challenge.

Pidge snorted, trying to hide a flushed countenance behind the automaton’s back. “I’d bet all the GAC in Fort Doom that I have seen more of the female physique au naturel than you have,” the young genius mumbled.

The heat rose to Lance’s face and his frown turned into a look of astonishment at his friend’s cheeky reply. Pidge was emboldened by Lance’s reaction. “Do you still have that medical treatise that you swiped from my library? You know, the one with the full color illustrations?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re implying. I borrowed it for a bit of light reading before bedtime.”

“Or to stare at the illustrations, more like. It’s the only way you’ll get to study the female anatomy outside of a visit to the bawdy house.”

“Listen here, you impertinent, pocket-sized urchin! I am a gentleman, not some low class—“

Pidge laughed. “I know that, you clodhopper. Anyway, what do you think of her?”

Lance tilted his head. “She’s got a pretty face, and I like the hairstyle you’ve given her, but...”

“But what? Isn’t she lifelike enough?”

“Well, she’s a bit chicken-breasted. You could have given her a larger pair of bubbies.”

Pidge picked up a small wrench from a nearby workbench and threw it in Lance’s general direction. He ducked just in time; Pidge succeed in merely dislodging Lance’s derby hat.

“What’s got you so riled up? Are you trying to damage these fine looks?” Lance asked while straightening his vest and picking up his hat, placing it back on his head at what he hoped was a rakish angle.

“No, but I am having second thoughts about you escorting my cousin Kate to the Prince’s cotillion. She’s a proper young lady, not some dollymop for you to ogle or attempt to swive.”

“Pidge, I can assure you that I am a perfect gentleman and your cousin’s virtue is certainly safe with me. Has she been presented yet?”

“She’s come of age, but has not yet been presented as a debutante. Times have been...very difficult for my family lately,” Pidge admitted. Debutante balls were very expensive was the thought that neither of them spoke aloud.

Lance nodded. “I know that feeling.” For a long moment Lance sat in silence, watching his friend work diligently on an tiny, intricate mechanism on the nearest work table. He let his mind drift, pausing to ruminate upon the predicament they were in at present.

Lance’s reason for joining the Garrison Air Corps wasn’t just to pursue a life of adventure. He hoped to do something important, to be of some help the Coalition in their seemingly futile resistance against the Galra Empire. Maybe someday the foreign invaders would be driven away, and his family could reclaim their vast acreage instead of working as tenant farmers on their own land. Still, their situation was preferable to what had happened to Hunk Garrett’s family. They had mysteriously disappeared one day, and with help from the Coalition’s spies, Hunk had had recently gathered enough evidence to support his theory that they had been abducted by a Galra slave ship. As horrifying as that was, Lance felt even greater compassion for the beautiful Princess of Altea in exile, daughter of a murdered king and queen, and last member of her royal lineage. After the Empire’s attempt at an Altean genocide, what remained of Allura’s people were living as refugees among the Terrans, that is, the ones who hadn’t been taken by the Galra as slaves. So many Alteans had been murdered that the Terrans looked upon them with pity, as if they were an endangered species that might soon become extinct. It was not surprising that Allura kept Coran and Romelle close to her at all times. She clung to them as a kind of surrogate family. In truth, she treated all the members of the Atlas crew as family, and that was one of the qualities that Lance found endearing about their princess. It had been very difficult for him to let go of his longtime infatuation with her, but he was making painful progress, especially when he saw her making doe eyes at Commander Keith.

Ever an optimist, if sometimes a delusional one, Lance hoped that somehow they would find a way to defeat their foreign enemies and reunite broken families against the seemingly impossible odds of defeating a technologically superior foe. The Galra ruled the diverse nations they conquered through intimidation and fear. Their airships were more heavily armed and faster, and their fearsome robeast clankers—gigantic, heavily armed automatons—were known to literally crush rebel cells underfoot the way a man might step upon an annoying beetle.

Glancing at the clockwork girl in the frilly dress for a moment, Lance turned his thoughts back to the prospect of the upcoming ball, hosted by the rogue Prince Lotor, a man who seemingly despised his cruel father, Emperor Zarkon. The Prince’s mother had been Altean, so Lotor hoped to forge and alliance with Princess Allura and her Altean sympathizers in an attempted coup against his father’s tyrannical rule. Lance was certain the ball was ruse to cover for many clandestine meetings and information exchanges between the Prince’s supporters and Allura’s loyal followers.

Lance hated politics so he chose to consider the more pleasant prospect: the upcoming flirting, fun, and frivolity at the Prince’s cotillion.

“So your cousin Kate has had no formal suitors then? No jealous ex-beaus?” Lance asked.

“None,” Pidge replied. “She‘s a good girl, but she’s no man’s fool. She knows how to defend herself too, so if you are thinking of trying anything—“

“I know how to treat a lady with respect, Pidge. Why do you keep implying that I am desperate dunderhead or a rake? It’s insulting.”

“Well there was that incident with Miss Nyma, and that other time with Lady Plaxum, or that one time with the ambassador’s daughter from—“

“Don’t remind me! I still have scars from that.”

“Emotional or physical?”

“Both.”

“You are a bent cog, McClain.” Pidge laughed. “I don’t know why I ever thought letting you escort my cousin to the ball would be a good idea—“

“It’s a good idea because deep down inside that tiny little cruel heart of yours, you know that I am a decent guy who just wants a nice girl to love and be loved by in return. That’s the only happiness I have ever wanted for myself in this chaotic world.”

Pidge pulled his goggles down over his eyes, and for a fleeting moment Lance could have sworn that the boy genius was touched by his heartfelt admission. Lance surmised that Pidge had hoped to conceal his emotional reaction by using the goggles to cover his wide hazel eyes to conceal how watery they had become.

Lance pressed on. “Is this virtuous Miss Katie Holt fair to look upon?”

Pidge gave a barely perceptible shrug and then murmured, “There’s some family resemblance.” The boy seemed suddenly shy, but then after a brief hesitation he added, “I’d like to think that all of us Holts—and Gundersons—-are a handsome enough family.”

Lance tilted his head this way and that, peering at what he could see of Pidge’s face that wasn’t concealed by the ever-present tweed cap and brass-rimmed goggles.

“She’s got a great sense of humor,” Pidge continued, once more engrossed in minuscule mechanical workings.

“Well, that’s another good attribute. She’ll appreciate my jokes!” Lance said cheerfully.

Pidge chuffed. “Only if they’re actually funny.”

“Hey!” Lance exclaimed in mock offense.

“She’s also a very clever girl. She knows a lot about science and technology. The spark of genius definitely runs in my family, so I hope her high level of education and intelligence won’t intimidate you,” Pidge added, looking up from the work table to see Lance’s reaction.

Lance grinned and tipped his hat back.

“I’m best friends with a sassy little swot like you, so what’s the difference? I happen to like intelligent people, Pidge.”

Pidge snorted once again, but gave him a half-smile and a nod of approval.

“Katie sounds like splendid girl, really. I am looking forward to meeting such a paragon of maidenhood. Does she have any flaws at all?”

“Um, well, she is rather...outspoken. And she’s sort of small and slender, not...” Pidge traced an hourglass shape in the air.

“Ah, so she’s chicken-breasted like that clockwork girl you’re building?”

Pidge glared at him so hotly that Lance thought the lenses of the lad’s goggles might shatter or melt before his very eyes. He howled with triumphant laughter that echoed through the corridors of the massive airship. Annoying Pidge was one of his favorite pastimes, but he could not fathom the reason why he was so clearly adept at it.

#plance #lance mcclain #katie holt #pidge #voltron Steampunk AU #steampunk

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