#all we need now is keith having a baby and the ritual is complete | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

That’s The Way

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: none, this is kind of an introductory/fluff chapter if you will :)

Story summary: Y/N Y/L/N, an ordinary seventeen-year-old girl, gets pulled into the world of rock and roll on a fateful night at the Marquee Club in London when she experiences the musical phenomenon of the Five Live Yardbirds. She grows up fast, navigating her way through the downfall of The Yardbirds, the legendary skyrocket of Led Zeppelin, era-defining decadence instigated by the ‘60s and ‘70s mindset of free love and personal gratification, and finding the courage to express how she fell deeply in love with one of modern music’s greatest guitarists.

Author’s notes (from Molly of rebel-without-a-zeppelin): Hi everyone! A little disclaimer on my part: this is the first story I’ve ever shared for public consumption. I’ve been toying with this idea in my mind for a very long time now, and I’ve finally mustered up the courage to share it with you all. I hope you like it. I am incredibly honored to collaborate with Syd on this project; this is truly our baby, as it has a very long, detailed, intricate plot, so saddle up for lots (and lots) of drama! This is also a sloooowwwww burn, like really, really slow lol. Over the course of the story, please feel free to send me your theories and comments; I would absolutely love to read them. Please enjoy, and happy reading!

---------

3 May 1965

The sound of a car horn beeped incessantly from the front of Y/N’s house. Dropping her backpack down on her bedroom floor with an annoyed huff, she sprinted down the steps. She never did get enough time to prepare, and it was no different today. With her friend Carolyn in tow, Y/N made a beeline for the front door, the click-clack of her Oxford shoes pounding across the hardwood floor. Y/N’s mum, who nonchalantly strolled out of the laundry room with an armful of freshly washed and folded bath towels, leant against the doorframe.

“Now remember Y/N: no drinking, no drugs, no sex. No going home with strange musician guys, nor are you allowed to go to their hotel,” her mum instructed calmly, knowing she’d receive an eye roll from the girl. Her stern expression at home on her gracefully-aged face, the girls receive the speech they get every time they go out. “You too, C. Even though I’m not your mother, I still worry about your safety.”

Both Y/N’s mum and dad had a very protective instinct over their eldest daughter, just like their other three children. Even at Y/N’s healthy age of seventeen, she longed for the freedom and trust that her older brother had gained at her age.

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Carolyn replied with a little laugh.

“Mum! This is literally the fourth time I’ve been to a Yardbirds gig, and nothing bad has happened,” Y/N huffed. Her mum raised her eyebrows.

Lillian, Y/N’s little sister, walked into the foyer and surprised Y/N with a big, tight hug around her waist. Y/N gasped at the sudden contact, but chuckled when she realized it was her younger sister, and reciprocated the hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Y/N. Boys are icky. And stupid!” Lillian said in a whiny voice, her face muffled by being buried in Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N ruffled her sister’s muss of dirty blonde waves affectionately, rubbing her back to soothe her worries. “I promise, I will come back perfectly fine! I won’t let any boys mess with me, Lil,” Y/N said with a smile, “And when I come back, I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

Lillian gazed up at Y/N with a similar smile, her small teeth shining a bright, pearly white and her chin resting on the taller girl’s stomach. “Okay,” she said, content, before releasing from Y/N with a stuffed animal tucked under her arm.

“Where’s Charlie?” Y/N asked, hoping she could say goodbye to her younger brother before she left.

“I think he’s riding around the neighborhood on his bike with his friends,” Y/N’s mum replied with a shrug. Y/N felt a little disappointed, but she figured she’d talk to him tomorrow at breakfast about her night out.

Thomas, Y/N’s older brother, continued to honk the horn rather obnoxiously, growing quite impatient. It’s a wonder the neighbors weren’t at arms, knocking on their door. He was forced by his parents to be Y/N and Carolyn’s chauffeur to the Marquee Club in London.

“We have to go, or else Tommy will have my head,” Y/N said as she started to open the front door.

“Wait!” her mum said, sloppily placing the towels down on a nearby counter to dash to the door and give Y/N a hug and a kiss on the head goodbye. Finally pulling away her weathered hands flew to Y/N’s shoulders, and gripping them firmly, she continued, “Be good. Love you.”

“I know, I will. Love you too,” Y/N smiled, before dashing down the steps and to the passenger seat of the car. Carolyn was in quick pursuit, following her to the car and taking a seat in the back.

“It’s about time,” Tommy huffed impatiently, tapping his fingertips on the top of the steering wheel as he put the transmission into drive.

“Sorry. Mum was giving me and C a safety brief,” Y/N replied apologetically.

“Why are you two still in school uniforms?” he snorted, shifting to look over at the girls; their studious appearance of white oxford shirts, sweater vests, plaid kilts, white knee socks, and smart oxford shoes would be quite out of place among the audience at the show.

“No time to change, just like usual,” she replied, turning on the radio, soft melodies pouring out at a low volume.

The three drove in silence, except for the sound of the radio playing, until Carolyn had dozed off on the somewhat lengthy car ride. Occasional small talk between Y/N and her brother permeated the quiet that fell over the group, but it picked up when they were only a few blocks away from the venue.

“You gotta stay safe in there, Y/N,” Tommy said, looking straight ahead. His teeth clamped down sharply on his bottom lip: a dead giveaway to the nerves he must have been feeling.

“I know, Dad,” Y/N joked, punching him lightly across the shoulder. Her bright smile wavered and fell when she saw his grim expression.

“I’m serious, you know. I don’t want my sister being pestered by some wankers in a blues band.”

Y/N smirked at her brother’s sudden defensive behavior. “I can take care of myself. Trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo. You should’ve seen the first Yardbirds gig we went to. Utter chaos...” The tilt of her lips signalled that she was joking, and Tommy huffed out a laugh.

Carolyn, stretching with a grunt, had miraculously woken up just as Tommy pulled up to the front door of the Marquee. Glancing at the venue with awe dancing in their eyes, Y/N and Carolyn disembarked from the car, walking closer with the façade of calmness and competency.

“I’ll be back later to pick you girls up. Have fun, but not too much fun,” Tommy rolled his window down as he said this, winking playfully.

Y/N waved to her brother as Carolyn thanked him graciously for the ride. Arms linked, Y/N and Carolyn entered the famous Marquee. Nervousness and anticipation began to pool Y/N’s stomach as she was greeted by the decadent atmosphere of the club: the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat hung in the air as her eyes were flashed by many people mingling about, dressed in typical mod clothing. Y/N and her friend looked at each other, feeling like aliens in their intelligent dress. They tactfully made their way through the crowd as they found their way to their usual spot, a small leather-upholstered booth set against the wall near the stage.

“Today might be the day, Y/N,” Carolyn said as they settled into their seats.

“I don’t know,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt, “the idea of that is both scary and exciting to me at the same time. We’ll just roll with the punches, I guess.”

“Which Yardbird do you have your eye on?”

Y/N smirked as she thought for a moment. “Hmm...I’m not sure. I guess they’re all pretty cute in their own way. What about you?”

“Yes, I agree. But I must admit, I do have a very soft spot for Chris Dreja.”

“I’ll pray for ya, C,” Y/N chuckled.

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, backstage, five live Yardbirds were performing some pre-show rituals in the hopes of easing the preliminary anxiousness. Jeff, Keith, and Jim were peeking out the little sliver of curtain that allowed them to see their gathering audience.

“Look! It’s those two schoolgirls again!” Jeff pointed to the two teenage girls in school uniforms, chatting in their booth waiting for the show to begin. They were huddled together in conversation, legs daintily crossed as their faint giggles floated over to them. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the sound, though he recovered quickly, not wanting his bandmates to get any ideas.

“What’s wrong with that? They must like us,” Keith replied.

“I think they’re both really pretty, especially the one with the Y/H/C hair,” Jim pointed out, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yeah, maybe we should invite them backstage after the show… have a nice little chat,” Jeff winked at the singer and the drummer cheekily.

After taking a final glance at the two conversing girls, the three returned to the backstage area where Paul and Chris were. Jeff immediately enlisted Giorgio, their manager, to complete the agreed-upon mission. Jeff loosely draped an arm around Giorgio’s shoulder before bestowing the request as politely as possible. Not trying to be suspiciously polite, of course, because everyone in the band and its entourage were firsthand witnesses of Jeff’s temper and stubbornness. Yikes.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” Jeff said to Giorgio with a mischievous smile.

Giorgio rolled his eyes, knowing this “favor” would have to do with scouting girls from the audience. “What d’ya need, Jeff?” he sighed exhaustedly.

“Don’t complain, please,” Jeff deadpanned. “There are two pretty birds in the audience, wearing their school uniforms. They’ve been coming to our shows for a little bit now, and they seem nice—”

“You want me to bring them backstage after the show?” Giorgio interrupted, somehow telepathically knowing, by routine, what the guitarist’s request would be.

“You finish that sentence like you know what I’m about to say.”

“That’s because I do, Mr. Beck,” Giorgio retorted sarcastically, “this happens a lot more often than you think it does.”

“Whatever,” Jeff grumbled moodily, knowing he was right, before walking back to the group of musicians in preparation.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Carolyn continued to gossip happily about what was happening at school, not a care in the world. They felt the stares of older men in the club, who silently disapproved of their knee socks being scrunched by their ankles, because that wasn’t the “proper” thing to do. But they didn’t care. Who are they to judge?

Every teacher scolded girls at school who did the same thing, because they didn’t want their long legs to be “tempting” or “distracting” any boys. A bloody nuisance, is what it is.

The girls were snapped from their thoughts by the sound of a heavy guitar tone being blasted through the speakers in an opening riff. Their eyes were stapled, almost transfixed to the stage as they took in the five sharply-dressed men in front of them, singing their songs and playing their instruments.

As much as Carolyn enjoyed The Yardbirds and music in general, Y/N had a rather deep connection to it, odd enough as it was. She could play the piano fairly well, so she understood where these musicians were coming from cognitively and creatively. From what she’d read in magazines about current popular musicians, like The Yardbirds for example, she liked the same music they did. Y/N understood dynamics, tempo, tone, key, and musical notation, just like they did. Perhaps she’d be able to get into an intelligent musical conversation with at least one of them one day.

Two straight hours of hits, obscure songs, and blues covers from The Yardbirds’ catalogue were played for the Marquee Club patrons, hypnotizing its drunk and high onlookers with polished musicality and instrumentation.

As the final song concluded, both Y/N and Carolyn, unbeknownst to the other, felt a sinking feeling of disappointment that fell like a pit in their stomachs. They wouldn’t have the chance to meet the band. No one from the entity had approached them yet, and momentarily the five live Yardbirds would be exiting the stage for the night.

After they said their goodbyes and thanks to the crowd, they disappeared behind the curtain. The main lights of the club brightened to signal that the show was over, as the voices of all the patrons raised in rave of the spectacular show they had just witnessed.

Discouraged, but still in light spirits at what they had just seen, Y/N and Carolyn stood up from their seat and headed for the front door. Y/N expected her brother to be waiting in front; it was late, so might as well not make him wait longer than he needs to.

Y/N and Carolyn were merely a few feet from the door when Y/N felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around to see a man with a dark beard already baring a jovial tight-lipped grin at her, the girl was quite surprised, maybe a little weirded out, but she reciprocated the gesture as genuinely as she could.

“Hello sir, what can we do for you?” Y/N greeted, discreetly nudging Carolyn to help her out and become a united front with her in front of this stranger.

“Good evening ladies, I was sent by Mr. Jeff Beck to offer you an invitation backstage to hang out with the band.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and her face broke out into an obvious mad blush, much to her dismay. She was internally screaming. The Jeff Beck had spotted them in the crowd?! This had to be a dream. Wait, this could be a complete drunken buffoon trying to trick them. Y/N remembered what her mother had said, and took the proper precautionary measure.

Y/N smiled in the most composed way she could. “Thank you for such a gracious invitation! Could I ask your name, if you don’t mind?”

“Giorgio Gomelsky, manager of The Yardbirds,” he replied, in a seemingly proud manner.

Okay, this was real. Y/N knew that Giorgio was definitely the manager’s name. She turned to Carolyn, who looked just as excited as she was.

“What are your names, dears?” Giorgio asked, pulling them out of their daze of what seemed like a fake reality.

“I’m Carolyn, and this is my friend Y/N,” Carolyn piped up, excited that she finally got an opportunity to speak to someone close to The Yardbirds.

She internally agreed to let Y/N handle the “diplomacy” part of the introduction, knowing that she was best at that. Carolyn knew her friend was quite shy, so she knew to step in when Y/N was starting to feel anxious. She noticed Y/N starting to fiddle with her fingers while talking to Giorgio in the most collected way she could muster; as excited as Y/N was, Carolyn knew she was growing very nervous.

“Well, it is certainly lovely to meet you both. So, what do you say? Would you like to meet the lads?”

After one final glance of excited mutual agreement, Carolyn replied, “Yes, we’d love to.”

Giorgio led the pair of girls back the way they came, through a sea of inebriated people, but this time through the backstage door. Y/N made an appoint to walk behind Carolyn, in an attempt to collect and relax herself. She was starting to sweat a little, her stomach doing flips and her hands becoming cold and clammy.

~~~~~~~~

“Our guests should be arriving any minute now,” Jeff said as he was placing his guitar back in its case.

Chris was standing and chatting with Paul in a corner when he turned around in surprise at the news. “Guests? What guests?”

“We had Giorgio invite two girls from the audience to come back here,” Jim replied, walking over to sit down in a metal folding chair.

“And why weren't we made aware of this?” Paul asked, as he walked to get another metal folding chair to place near Jim.

“It was their idea,” Keith replied, pointing two fingers between Jeff and Jim. Paul and Chris just nodded in recognition.

“I didn’t hear you disagree, Relf,” Jeff clapped back. He then told Chris and Keith to get some chairs for themselves and the two girls that would be walking through the door at any second.

Before Keith could respond, a couple knocks resounded in the room, signalling the arrival of the guests. Jacket lapels and ties were quickly straightened, even though each person was still glazed with quickly-drying sweat from the show they had just played, before the room fell unnaturally quiet as Giorgio opened the rather squeaky door.

The initial tension in the room that lasted a split second could be cut with a knife. Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, a cold sweat already running down her back, as five pairs of eyes landed on her, Carolyn, and Giorgio, warm smiles following suit.

She felt like internally combusting.

“Boys, this is Y/N,” Giorgio broke the momentary silence by introducing her, “and Carolyn.” Y/N smiled shyly and sent them a little wave, a dusty shade of pink seeping its way to her cheeks. Carolyn’s greeting was much more exuberant than Y/N’s, as she took the initiative to go over and shake all of their hands amiably. Y/N realized she had to follow her friend in order to make a good first impression.

Knowing that the boys wanted to spend time with the girls without being chaperoned, Giorgio left the room to attend to other business affairs.

Upon first glance, Y/N was the most beautiful girl that four of the five Yardbirds had ever seen. Perfect features, long legs, a calm, gentle, sweet demeanor… Just an absolutely angelic young woman; a vision.

Jeff had obviously recognized her beauty, from seeing her at multiple shows, but he thought she was way out of his league. He decided to focus on getting her to laugh and relax around them, because he noticed just how nervous she looked. She was turning pale right in front of his very eyes! Paul and Chris began to internally question themselves, how have I not seen this girl before? She is so gorgeous! Jim had been glancing at her sporadically throughout the show, soaking up her faraway presence. He noticed how her eyes glistened in childlike wonder as she watched them do what they did best: perform the Chicago blues.

“Well, it is very nice to meet you both,” Keith replied enthusiastically. “I’m Keith,” he alluded to himself, then pointing to the other members of the group while giving their names, “and this is Chris, Paul, Jeff, and Jim.”

“I mean, we know who you guys are, but it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Carolyn replied. Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Come and sit down! Make yourselves comfortable. We don’t bite,” Jeff joked, motioning to the open chairs. The girls smiled and accepted his invitation, Y/N taking a seat between Jeff Beck and Jim McCarty, while Carolyn took a seat between Keith Relf and Chris Dreja. The chairs were arranged in a circular formation, so each person could talk to the other with ease.

“Tell us about yourselves!” Paul initiated, “I think Y/N should go first though, because you haven’t said too much yet,” he laughed at the last part. Y/N giggled (a little too idiotically for her own liking), but she felt herself become starstruck at how her name sounded coming from one of their voices.

Y/N clenched her cold, clammy hands in her lap as a method to ease her anxiety before starting with a smile. “Well, I’m from Saint Albans. This is our fourth time, I believe, coming to see a Yardbirds gig. Carolyn and I came to see you with Eric Clapton once, and then this is the third time with Jeff.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I guess I see where your favor lies in terms of guitarists,” Jeff responded playfully.

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N laughed, “I will admit that I love what you’ve done with the body of work. Clapton was a blues purist, which I respect, and he’s great, but I think your playing is much more interesting and unorthodox.”

Paul, Jim, and Jeff all raised their eyebrows at Y/N’s comment. They were impressed with how she understood their musicality.

“Are you a musician?” Jim asked Y/N.

“Not in your sense of the word,” Y/N chuckled, “But I’ve been playing the piano for most of my life, so I understand music. Probably more than your average female audience member,” she added with a grin.

“That’s so cool! Are you classically trained, or is it just a hobby?”

“Classically trained,” Y/N admitted to Jim shyly.

“Oh wow, so you’re the real deal,” Jeff added.

“I’m not a professional, so I’d say no,” Y/N laughed.

“You probably know more about music than all five of us combined!” Paul said.

“Well, I know that you know much more about the blues than me!” Y/N answered playfully.

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Paul smiled at Y/N. She cursed herself in her mind for feeling weak at Paul’s simple sentiment, but tried to keep her composure as best she could.

The four of them, especially Jeff and Y/N, began to bond over their love for different musicians. Y/N expressed her love for Chet Atkins and his fingerpicking style, Scotty Moore’s lively soloing style, and Robert Johnson’s slide technique and open tunings, rendering the three men shocked at her knowledge on the subject. Y/N loved how easily Jeff could make her laugh, and how interested Paul and Jim were at whatever she had to say, significant or insignificant. Chris Dreja, who was in a little group with Keith and Carolyn, occasionally spaced out of his conversation to hear what Y/N had to say.

They bonded for about an hour and a half about everything and nothing, until Y/N abruptly realized that Tommy was probably waiting for a while outside for her and her friend. She apologized to the band profusely for such a sudden departure as she and Carolyn walked towards the door.

“Say you’ll come visit us again after the show?” Jeff called to Y/N as she turned towards him in the doorframe.

“Absolutely,” she smiled brightly.

---------

Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @y0uth--anasia @reincarnated70sbaby

#jimmy page #led zeppelin #that’s the way #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page x reader #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

59 notes · View notes

dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 170

170

Lance lavished Keith with extra attention as they got ready for the day ahead. Today was finally the day that Curtis was freed from his curse. Waking feeling ill, Lance kept it to himself. Keith was fighting his own dose of anxiety, coupled with lingering pain from bottoming though that had been a good 15 hours ago now. Making extra coffee, Lance had cooked a few of Curtis’s favourite foods, and comfort food for Shiro, assuming being an anchor for his boyfriend’s soul would be quite taxing on their friend. They weren’t allowed on the same floor as their friends, so Pidge and Hunk were coming with them to Platt, told by Coran to be a few hours late.

When Hunk picked them up, Lance was glad he was the one driving. Keith had hit that angry stage of anxiety, a little snappy and overly apologetic. Lance unable to keep from thinking about the house and Curtis on the drive. Hunk trying to cheer them up as he and Pidge talked tech. The house was clearly an unsaid no go topic for the day. Plans shifting to making the most of the road trip down to see Keith’s father once Curtis was up for it. Keith barely contributed. Lance ignoring safety in favour of sitting in the middle back seat with just a lap belt to be able to hold Keith close to him. Honestly having so much in his head distracted from the discomfort in his belly. A growing feeling something was wrong left him teary, though he knew he’d done everything he was supposed to be doing to keep the pregnancy progressing smoothly.

Parking in the staff parking under Pidge’s direction, Lance was hit with vertigo as he climbed from Hunk’s car, resulting in him tripping on his own feet as his left ankle rolled. Something felt very wrong. Again, he knew it was his anxiety blowing things out of proportion... Embarrassingly, Lance found himself on all fours throwing up. Keith yelling his name as if he’d been shot or stabbed, and not something as damn common as him falling over. Grabbing him around the shoulders, Lance hacked, spitting in his puddle of mess with his nose scrunched up

“Babe?!”

“I’m okay...”

“You collapsed. Do you have a fever?”

Keith smacked him in the head as he tried to check. Lance sighing heavily

“I’m fine. I tripped...”

“You...”

“I tripped. I’m okay”

Ugh. Stupid ankles. It didn’t matter how fast and how strong you were, ankles would get you every time

“We should get Coran to check you”

“Babe, I’m okay... help me up”

Keith hovered. Hunk hovered. Pidge had a bounce in her step as she led them to her office. Everything within VOLTRON was running smoothly. People going about their jobs. No blaring alarms. No one was hurt. No big bad jumped out them. He was being stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The only thing around to fear was Lance and his paranoia... and his paranoid anger loaf who’d made Hunk carry the picnic basket, then started “helping” him along as if he was old and decrepit, reducing him to shuffling along. Thank god no one else was there to fuss, his anxiety hadn’t settled as it was, now it’d decided to kick into overdrive there’d be no settling it until Keith finally stopped fussing and they could see their friends again.

Keith couldn’t stop thinking about Shiro. He hadn’t called him. He hadn’t wished him good luck today. He’d said nothing to his brother and he hoped his brother took it to mean he trusted things to go smoothly, and not that he was giving up before things had started.

Settling in in Pidge’s office, she shared her space with three other technicians. Keith would have gotten lost if he hadn’t been following her as she confidently led them to the lab. With his arm around Lance, he found himself torn between who to fret over more. His boyfriend who’d fallen over and then promptly thrown up, or Shiro who would acting as Curtis’s anchor right about now. Thank fuck that the fellow lab techs weren’t in at the moment, because he wasn’t sure he could keep his damn temper in check over the situation. He didn’t blame Lance for throwing up. It’d been a while since it’d happened outside... His boyfriend had spent the morning trying his hardest to be reassuring, but when his rock started crumbling, Keith didn’t know what to do. Lance kept him grounded. Lance had to be okay. Plus Lance had totally nailed him the night before and he worried the slip of his ego had somehow upset the twins. Keith had been swept up in Lance’s scent and the way his boyfriend’s body moved. He’d rushed in, over sensitised and flipped some kind of switch inside Lance. He didn’t regret it. Even with his vampire side showing, Lance hadn’t hurt him. His grip firm, without being painful, pleasure pounded into him until he had to touch himself for relief.

Now Lance was sitting in a chair Pidge stole from another technicians desk, his boyfriend rubbing his stomach as their little gremlin grabbed a case for him to rest his feet on. Keith had seen plenty of those cases before. Normally they contained things that someone shouldn’t be putting their feet on. “Dusting” her hands off, Pidge beamed

“Okie dokie, guys. Lance has decided he needed the royal treatment, but do you guys want to see my lab?”

Pidge and Hunk had showed they were they’re for them, by being physically there for them. Pidge was keeping them smiling, as she’d done at the house, using her “gremlin powers” as a force for good. Going to the house had been a sobering experience for them, and Keith had let his duties as the cool mature older friend slide by providing very little comfort to her, despite the fact both her brother and father had been held there. Leaning back in his chair, Lance nominated him

“Keith would love to. I’m going to chill here and be pregnant. Maybe think about breaking into the locker room and appropriating some toothpaste... the options are endless”

Pidge poked Lance in the back of the head, Lance swatting at her hand. How could the pair of them act so normal? Hunk seemed the only one worried outwardly. Lance letting Pidge tease him only served to annoy Keith. His boyfriend might be clumsy, yet he felt there was more going on with Lance that what met the eye

“If you’re feeling that much better, you can come on the tour too”

“I’m busy growing two humans at the moment...”

“You’re on a roller chair. Hunk can drive you”

“Piiiiidge, I promise I’ll listen, but I’m not feeling great. Show Keith and Hunk around, brag about your job. You deserve it”

There was no one there that Keith trusted Lance’s health too. Allura helping in the summoning ritual, and Keith now realising he hadn’t been worried about the two faes. He should be worried. A demon against Coran and Allura... That wasn’t as simple as a werewolf with a cavity. They could be seriously hurt if the summoning went wrong. Catching him staring, Lance held his hand out of him, Keith moving to automatically grip it

“I’m going to be okay. You’re not leaving me. You’re not leaving the room. It’s all psychosomatic from what I can tell”

“So something is wrong...”

He’d known it. He fucking knew it. Now Lance was admitting it so it had to be true

“Just a little pain in my stomach, and a little bit of dizziness. I’m fine now I’m sitting”

“You should have told me”

“I know. But I’m in the best place I can be and I’m like pretty sure that maybe it’s because I’m worrying about our friends. They’re going to be okay. Coran knows what he’s doing. They’re going to be okay and we’re all going to in relief once it’s over, you’ll see”

“But what if something’s wrong?”

“The most important thing we can do is be calm. Go check out the tech. I packed my phone, so maybe Pidge can play with that?”

Keith had forgotten about Lance’s phone. His head felt foggy from the moment he’d woken up. Too many thoughts were taxing his brain power. Crossing her arms, Pidge huffed

“I do not play. You guys should appreciate my genius”

“Trust me, Pidgeon, we do. Hunk, Bud. It’s all going to be okay. You’re allowed to be here, so you don’t have to be nervous. Kolivan isn’t here to kidnap you guys, and Coran loves you. I’m sure that engineering side of you is dying to tinker. You’ve already signed a non-disclosure, and as your amazing legal advisor I’m telling you it’s totally fine to relax”

Hunk worried his pointer fingers together

“I’m worried about you. Oh, man. I said it. Dude, are you sure you’re okay being here... You’re pregnant and pregnant people should be resting and we went to the house and you didn’t look very well then and...”

Lance gently interrupted Hunk

“Sunshine of my life, all bromo and no homo, I’m okay. You don’t need to worry. I’m older than you, remember, plus I’m a vampire. A little trip isn’t going to hurt the babies. My stomach didn’t even touch the ground. Go forth and tinker. Maybe you can swipe something useful?”

Lance liked to think he was magically easing everyone, but Keith could tell differently. He felt it, that Lance wasn’t being completely honest, yet Lance did like to stress and worry too much... He felt kind of weird being in the labs without being at work. He’d start back tomorrow, provided everything went well today. Lance had probably already thought about that too. His boyfriend being so thoroughly himself by trying his hardest to support him. Leaning down, Keith kissed the top of Lance’s head. He was being silly. He was letting his anxieties blow things out of proportion

“I’m sorry. I’m not handling this very well”

“Babe, none of us are. But we’re all not handling it well together. We’re a pack remember, it’s natural we’re worried for our family. Now, give me a kiss...”

Keith did as he was told, Lance smiling at him toothily, before continuing

“... and don’t go touching anything”

“Why not? You said Hunk could”

“Because Hunk could probably rebuild anything he broke. We have to face it, babe, we’re a little bit dumb when compared to these two. Not that you are dumb. I have no doubt you could rebuild any weapon you get your hands on, I’m just saying there’s no way I could fix a microscope if I broke it”

Keith got it. He was no wiz when it came to tech

“That’s true. We’ll be... somewhere in here, if you need me call me”

Lance slowly rubbed the underside of his swell

“You know I will. Me and our cupcakes are just going to chill”

Not knowing how long the summoning would take, the wait dragged on. Keith had taken to borrowing a roller chair, keeping himself preoccupied as Pidge worked on Lance’s phone with Hunk. Rolling over to his boyfriend, Lance raised his leg, pushing lightly and sending him rolling across the room. Yeah. They’d hit level of boredom. “Running” back across the room on his tip toes, Pidge pushed her chair back to stop him

“If you two keep this up, I’m going to evict you”

Lance sighed at Pidge, pulling himself up in his chair

“Don’t get snappy at him”

“Then don’t get mad when your phone explodes!”

Lance rolled his eyes, not phased by an angry Pidge

“Is it just me, or does our gremlin sound like she needs another dose of coffee?”

Coffee sounded great. Plus it’d give him something to do with hands

“I’ll go!”

Pidge huffed at Keith’s enthusiasm at leaving. He could have brought Kosmo and taken him for a walk while they waited

“Say how you really feel. You’re supposed to be helping me with the interface”

“I can’t help you until we get there”

Lance wheeled himself over to Hunk

“Hunk, the coffee nerds are fighting. Want to come get the coffee with me?”

Hunk nodded, playing along as he whispered loudly

“They’re scary when they fight”

“I know. I’m surprised Pidge hasn’t invented a Roomba that knives ankles when someone gets between her and coffee”

“Man, don’t go giving her ideas!”

Pidge pushed her chair back, crashing lightly into Lance and Hunk

“You two suck. I hope you both know that”

Lance raised his hand to ruffle her hair

“So Pidgeon doesn’t want a coffee? I guess I shouldn’t get cookies either”

“If you dare come back without cookies, I will end you”

“Many have tried. I’m having cupcakes with the last hunter who came to do just that. You might be a gremlin, but you’re facing a creature of the night”

Pidge sighed at Lance

“You’re a dramatic arsehole, you know that, right?”

“I have been told my arsehole is very dramatic and I don’t even know what that was. Hunk, do you want to come for the walk?”

“Sure... are you up for walking? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’ve rested and I need to pee. Besides, Keith is cranky. He needs sugar and caffeine”

Keith scowled at the pair of them. He should be the one going for coffee, not his pregnant lover

“Why don’t I get to go?”

“Because Pidge might need your help. We’ll be back soon, babe”

Wheeling herself back to her desk, Pidge mocked him

“Yeah, babe. He’ll be back soon, babe. Don’t worry, babe”

Pidge could pull off being a summoned demon with ease. Keith glad she was using her powers for good instead of running a top class criminal racket

“You’re evil”

“I know”

“Guys, we’re all family and we all love each other. We’ll be back soon. Babe, it’s okay. I love you and I promise I’ll get your order right”

“I know you will. Love you, too. Make sure Hunk doesn’t get lost”

What the heck was that? “Make sure Hunk doesn’t get lost”? What a time to be awkward... Lance snorted

“Pfft. I’ll make him hold my hand and look both ways before crossing the road”

Hunk groaned at them

“Why am I being treated like a kid?”

Lance smiled happily at Hunk

“Because you’re our Hunk and we love you. Pidge, do you want any real food?”

“Nope. I’ve got my own fridge with adult food and everything. You two losers go get the coffee already”

“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am”

Lance shot Pidge a sloppy salute, Pidge over exaggerating rolling her eyes at him

“Go already! Keith, why do you put up with him?”

“Because I love him”

“Acceptable answer. Okay, come over here and pretend to make yourself useful”

The bad feeling Lance had hadn’t left. Leaving VOLTRON the world felt warmer. The sunshine and busy streets distracting with their overness. So many people were talking he couldn’t narrow in on one particular sound. With each step away from the building, he felt better. The pains in his stomach hadn’t abated at all. Yet if something was wrong, all he could do was wait for Coran as it was. Noticing his distracted mood, Hunk held his hand, Lance smiling and he shook his head when it first slipped into his.

Unable to stop from over ordering, Hunk was on coffee carrying duty, as Lance carried the two bags from the bakery back. The pain now starting to get to the point when he had to slow down, and rest every few metres. Reminding himself he only had to make back to the next block, he tried his hardest to ignore it. It’d pass. It’d pass and the twins would be okay. He didn’t so much care for himself, he’d heal, but them... He couldn’t lose them. He’d give himself an hour. If things hadn’t improved in an hour he’d head down to the infirmary and let them poke at him.

Hunk noticed the stops, the big man slowing to a snails pace to match his. Making their way through the bookshop and into the elevator, Lance dropped the bags as he grunted, staggering into the elevator wall. Something was wrong. Something was very very wrong. These... this felt like... his fake contractions but a hundred times worse

“Lance!”

“Call... Keith...”

Gripping his stomach with one hand, Lance held himself up, bent over with his hand against the elevator walls. A second wave of pain made him moan in misery

“Fuck, okay, okay, okay. It’s only a little further...”

Wetness trickled down his legs, Lance immediately panicking at the warmth

“Call Keith!”

Behind him Hunk had hit the button down to the labs, the elevator doors sliding shut. They’d only just started moving when elevator shuddered, some kind of barely audible boom causing it to shudder around them as it came to a stop. Shit. This couldn’t be good

“I can’t get through to Keith. The call won’t connect!”

“What do you mean you can’t reach... agh!”

Gripping his stomach, Lance’s knees bent, nearly buckling under the pain. A wave of something evil seemed to tear through the air, the hairs on his skin standing upright as his body erupted into goosebumps

“It says no signal! What do I do?!”

Hunk was freaking out. Lance was freaking out. He hated being trapped. He hated elevators but knew the doors would open, so ignored the discomfort of being in one. Above the lights flickered, red replacing bright white light as an alarm started ringing. Something had gone wrong. Something had gone wrong with the summoning. That was the only thing Lance could think of... fuck... fuck it hurt... it hurt so much his head dropped as he swore violently in time with the wave of pain

“Fuuuuuck!”

This couldn’t be happening. He’d done everything right. Every demand placed on him, he’d done it. He’d stabbed himself over and over with those damn injections. He’d drunk Keith’s blood. He’d eaten until he started to hate food.

Coming to his side, Hunk had set the tray of coffees down. Placing his hand on Lance’s lower back, he leaned around him

“Lance? What do I do?”

“Hunk, I need... need you to check... if I’m bleeding...”

“Wha...”

“Just put your hand on my arse and tell me if you see blood”

Hunk moved, his moved hesitant as he pulled down the back of Lance’s pants exposing his underwear. Thank god for elastic maternity pants

“N-no...”

Okay. Okay. That was good. Forcing down a deep lungful of air through his nose Lance released it slowly through his mouth

“I think I’m in labour. The summoning’s gone wrong... I need you to check the elevator doors. See if you can get them open”

It didn’t matter what floor they were on. Coran had built the place with a labyrinth of hidden stairs. If they could get out, they could get help. He could send Hunk through the car park to call Krolia, Matt and Rieva

“On it... Dude, do you want to sit? I don’t know what to do...”

Poor Hunk. Lance had to keep strong for him, but fuck... He needed Coran, like right now!

“No... no... standing... is better... fuck... fucking fuckery fuck...”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

7 notes · View notes

sierraraeck · 4 years

Text

Betrayal (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Partially inspired by 8x4 God Complex. Aundreya finally figures out who Spencer has been calling on the payphone. Story ten.

Category: Fluff at the beginning, then angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Normal CM stuff. Mentions of drugs. An internal identity crisis.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Please welcome Tara Lewis everyone. I know that she was never a part of this particular team, but she now has a guest appearance because I wanted her to have one.

“You have zero manners,” Morgan said.

“That is not true!” I snapped back.

“Yes. It is. You literally inhale your food in under ten seconds and just now you walked in here and basically yelled ‘I’m back, baby’ to the entire bullpen,” he pointed out.

“Okay, sure, but that doesn’t mean I lack all manners completely. I just have unconventional ones,” I countered.

“Unconventional?” Prentiss snorted. “You are one of the most uncivilized people I have ever met.”

“Fuck you, I’m civilized!” I said, flabbergasted. They both just stared at me with a knowing look and I wanted to hit myself. I slowly nodded my head, and clicked my tongue. “Yeah. I hear it now.”

Morgan gave a single laugh shaking his head and Prentiss just rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Ah, who cares? At least you keep things interesting,” a voice behind me said. I turned around to see a tall, gorgeous woman I didn’t recognize standing behind me.

Prentiss jumped up and hugged her, “Tara! It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you could join us for this case.”

“I’m happy to be here,” she said.

“Derek Morgan,” he introduced, holding his hand out. She shook it and then turned to me.

“Aundreya Chambers.”

“I know,” Tara said, extending her hand. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered, but I just brushed it off.

I was about to reach for her hand when Morgan interrupted, “Woah, woah, woah. You might not want to do that.”

I turned to glare at him, knowing he was going to make some dumbass joke about me ‘rubbing off on people’. But then I decided I’d not only go along with it, but I’d take control of it.

“Wait, why?” Tara asked, hand still floating in mid air.

“It’s because I have a highly contagious, chronic disease. I hope you have all of your vaccines,” I said before Morgan could jump in. He gave me a wide-eyed look, but shortly after, I saw him suppress a smile.

“Oh, really?” Tara’s expression was a mix between confusion and worry.

“Yeah, I’ve been battling it for pretty much my entire life. It’s gotten worse over these past couple of years, though,” I said. Emily frowned at me, but Derek was definitely enjoying himself.

“What disease?”

“It’s uh … It’s called uh,” I started, snapping my fingers like I was trying to recall the word. “Derek, what’s it called?”

“Being a bitch?” he offered, eyebrows raised.

“Ah! That’s the one!” I said, pointing my finger over at him like I’d just had a revelation. I winked at him and he couldn’t hold back his grin any longer.

Tara started laughing, but then quickly composed herself. “That sounds really serious, I’m so sorry to hear that. How are you doing?”

“You know, I manage,” I said, smiling at her.

She nodded, returning my smile. “Well, I actually lived with someone fighting that very same disease, so I’ve built up the antibodies. I don’t think one handshake will hurt.”

“Few. That’s a relief,” I said, finally shaking her hand.

“You will have to excuse her and her occasional antics,” JJ said walking by.

Spencer was right behind her, gesturing toward Morgan. “Yeah, and his. He’s not much better.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Morgan was quick to defend.

“Sure it is,” Emily said sarcastically.

Rossi walked into the room, already knowing that we were being unprofessional. “Guys, behave. Agent Lewis, I apologize for anything they may have already said or done.” He looked pointedly at Morgan and I. We both put our hands up in defense.

Tara still had a smile plastered on her face. “Don’t worry. I already like your team. I’m going to have no problem working with you all on this case.”

“And we already like you,” I told her. “I’m glad you have a good sense of humor.”

“What can I say? I enjoy trying to keep the mood as light as possible. Gotta have some sort of balance working a job like this,” she said. We all nodded profusely at her words.

When we arrived at the round table, Hotch was already there.

“So I see you’ve met Doctor Lewis,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Ooh. Doctor. Be careful Spencer, she’s coming for your title,” I joked.

“Oh, no! Definitely not. Under no circumstances do I want to compete against the genius,” she quickly corrected. Reid just shyly smiled.

“I think you should at least try and give him a run for his money,” I entertained.

“Aundreya?” Aaron intervened.

“Yeah?”

“Focus.”

“What is it with you people today, coming at me like this,” I let my hands slap against my thighs.

“Aundreya.”

“Yes, okay, I’m focused, god.”

He gave me that signature stone face and I gestured for him to continue. I saw Derek smirk out of the corner of my eye, so I swiftly made eye contact with him, scratching my temple with only my middle finger. He blew air out of his nose in a small laugh.

“We are going to be flying to Phoenix to revisit the Ken Keith case. As you all know, he was one of Phoenix’s most prolific serial killers and at some point we thought he had a partner, but the killings stopped after he was incarcerated, so we figured we had it wrong. Last night, there was another killing that partially matched Keith’s MO and signature,” Aaron explained.

“Partially matched?” Prentiss asked.

“When the body was found, they had all of their limbs, except their leg had been amputated and replaced.”

“Okay, so a copycat?” JJ asked.

“That’s what the local PD initially thought, but the victim had traces of tomato soup in her stomach, a ritual that was never released to the public,” Hotch said. “Doctor Lewis will be aiding us in speaking with Keith considering that is her area of expertise.”

I leaned over and whispered, “Have fun with that.”

“I always do,” Tara replied.

“If this partner is anything like Keith, we need to catch him as quickly as possible. Wheels up in 30.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Ken Keith is what you would call a mad scientist. He spent five years amputating one of his victim’s legs, and then trying to replace it with someone else’s. When it didn’t work, he would cut off all of their limbs and dump their torso with their head. We never knew what he did with the rest of the limbs. After he got arrested, he refused to tell us why he did any of it. Hopefully Tara could change that, but if not, the rest of us basically started over with the profile.

On the plane after we had already discussed all of the information we had, I saw Rossi fumbling around with a Rubik’s cube.

“I didn’t take you for a Rubik’s cube person,” I commented.

He set the cube down in front of him with a frustrated sigh. “That’s because I’m not. I had an old friend give me this, challenging me to figure out how to solve it before he could. As you can see, it is not working out so well for me.”

I laughed. “I can help you.”

“You know how to solve a Rubik’s cube?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I have a variety of odd skills.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said, relinquishing the cube to me. “Have at it.”

Within the next thirty or so seconds, I set the cube back down, completely solved.

“I have to say I’m impressed,” Rossi admitted, picking up the cube to evaluate it, “I don’t know how you do that.”

“It’s really just all math,” Reid said, sitting down next to us, “See, there are a variety of algorithms that are used at various steps in the process, and many people have come up with numerous different ways that work. For example, there is one that solves for the entire first and second layer, then moves on to completing the top before the corners, and then there are others that do the reverse, completing the corners before the top.”

Rossi just stared at him, and if I had to guess what was going through his head, it was somewhere between ‘I have no idea what the hell you just said’ and ‘I’m not quite sure I care’.

“In other words, there are patterns you can learn that will help you solve it. We can teach you, if you want,” I offered.

“I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m not sure I’d be able to keep up,” Rossi said. He slid the cube back over mine and Reid’s way.

Reid scooped it up and started fidgeting with it. “I didn’t know you could solve a Rubik’s cube.”

“I can. Not only that, but I can solve a two-by-two, and a four-by-four,” I said, content with my answer.

He looked at me with furrowed brows. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Tara. “Prove it.”

I looked up at her. “Gladly. When we get back, I will show off my cube-solving skills.”

She smiled, “I look forward to it.”

“Or she can just prove it now,” Spencer said, retrieving three cubes from his bag.

“Of course you would have those in your bag,” I chuckled. “Go ahead, then. Mix them up for me.”

“Okay, now I have to get in on the action,” Morgan said, reaching over Reid from the seat behind him and grabbing the biggest cube. I rolled my eyes.

Once the three of them thought that the cubes were sufficiently mixed up, I started solving. I solved the two-by-two first, then the three-by-three, then the four-by-four. I set them down in a row next to each other.

“I’ll be damned,” Morgan said, shaking his head.

“What? Did you ever doubt me?” I feigned offense.

“Definitely not,” he said with a wink.

“Well, it looks to me that you are now the one giving the genius a run for his money,” Tara said.

I scoffed. “Nope. I’m sure he could still kick my ass.”

“Willing to test that theory?” Derek asked.

“Absolutely,” I said, looking at Spencer expectantly.

“Sure.”

Tara messed up one of the three-by-three cubes for me, and Derek messed up the other for Spencer.

“Okay, I want you both to start at the same time when I say go,” Tara said. She teased us, making us wait on the edge of our seats in silence before finally saying, “Go.”

We both started solving and according to the lovely commentary provided by Derek, I was in the lead. Soon though, too soon, that started to change.

“Oh no. He’s catching up,” I said.

“How do you know that? You haven’t taken your eyes off of your own,” Emily asked. To her point, I hadn’t even realized she was there.

“I can hear it.”

“You can he-” Morgan started, cutting himself off. “Of course you can. Naturally.”

A few seconds later, I put my cube down, just moments before Spencer put his down.

“That’s unbelievable,” Rossi teased. He was resting his chin on his hand, an amused smirk on his face as he watched Spencer and I compete. All he was missing was a bowl of popcorn.

“I almost had you!” Reid exclaimed.

“You’re outta practice. Maybe next time, champ,” I said, patting his shoulder.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Three days into our investigation, we had a possible partner’s name and body language confirmation from Keith. Garcia sent us his work and home addresses like the lovely queen she is, and we split up into two groups. Spencer, Emily, Rossi, and myself went to his work address while Hotch, Morgan, JJ, and Tara went to his home address.

“Can I help you?” asked a tall, black haired man.

“Yes, we are looking for Caleb Wheelan,” Prentiss said, holding out her badge.

“He’s not in today,” the man responded. “Is there a problem?”

“We just need to ask him a few questions. Do you know where he would be?”

“I’d assume at his house because he called in sick this morning,” the man told us.

We asked him a variety of other questions about his co-worker and even searched his cubicle and computer and found nothing.

“Thank you. Please give us a call if he turns up,” Prentiss concluded, handing the man her business card. The man nodded and we walked away, Reid already on the phone with Aaron.

“He wasn’t at his house, but there is nothing there that points to him being our unsub,” he said once he got off the phone.

“Okay, so we keep digging, and hopefully we’ll be able to find him and ask him some questions,” Rossi said, and we headed back to the precinct.

The next day, Caleb Wheelan called us.

“I just got off the phone with Wheelan, and he claims that he knew Keith before he had his psychotic break. They worked together and Keith tried to rope Wheelan into his experiments, but once Wheelan realized what was actually going on, he backed out,” Emily said, walking into the conference room.

“Do you believe him?” I asked.

“Yeah. The rest of the details he gave me, the fact that we found nothing at his home or work, and he only fits portions of the profile, suggest that he’s telling the truth,” Emily stated.

“Okay, great. What now?” JJ asked.

“Now we revisit the profile. Lewis is still having trouble getting Keith to tell us anything, so we should start coming up with ideas as to why he did this, and why this new unsub hasn’t escalated as much as Keith, only removing their leg not the rest of their limbs,” Hotch said.

We didn’t have much time to brainstorm because the deputy came in, informing us that there was another body.

We raced to the crime scene, a small, trashed alley, immediately noticing the change in MO.

“The victim’s name is Maria Rodriguez,” Morgan said.

“First time he’s operated on a woman,” Reid pointed out.

“And he transplanted the left leg this time,” Morgan said.

“She died from blood loss, there’s no gangrene on the transplanted leg which means the surgery’s fresh.”

“You think he still has the other woman?”

“It justifies his haste in dumping her here. Why didn’t he go to the desert or a hospital?” Spencer’s voice slowed on the last word, realization taking over his face.

“It also means he’s speeding up his surgeries,” Derek deduced. Without another word, Spencer walked away from us, reaching for his phone in his pocket. “Reid, where are you going?”

When he didn’t answer I called after him, “Reid!”

I turned back to look at Morgan, puzzled.

He shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s going on with him?”

“I have no idea. I’ve been trying to ask him about it, but I keep getting a bunch of nothing.”

“You don’t think he’s back on drugs do you?”

“No. This is a whole different kind of strange,” I said. Derek just sighed and turned his attention back to the victim.

I glanced back at Spencer right as he hung up, making eye contact with me for only a second before turning away. “Tara! Lewis, wait. Where are you going?”

This caught Derek’s attention and he looked back over to where Reid was now jogging toward Lewis.

“Hotch called. He wants us back at the station ASAP,” Tara said. I checked my own phone, realizing I had just received a text as well.

“Can you give me a ride to 5th and Main? It’s on the way,” Spencer asked.

What the hell?

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Tara started wearily. “What’s at 5th and Main?”

That’s what I’d like to know.

“I need to talk to somebody,” Reid said, walking around to open the passenger-side door before any one of us could protest. Derek and I looked at Lewis, eyes wide, but she just shrugged.

“Oh, okay, sure.”

Not even concerned with personal privacy, I called Garcia.

“Hey Queen P. What’s at 5th and Main?”

“It’s a payphone. I don’t know why he asked for it either,” she responded.

A payphone? So he is back on drugs?

“Okay, thanks, girl,” I said, hanging up.

Derek and I got into the car and drove back to the precinct. The nice thing was that Spencer was right: 5th and Main was on the way. Once we got there, I decided I’d take a ‘bathroom break’. When I was out of sight of the rest of the team, I hauled ass to 5th and Main. I didn’t want to take any chances in case he was going to meet another dealer, considering how well that ended last time.

When I got there, I easily spotted him. I crept up the side of brick building just behind the payphone, getting as close as I could without being seen.

“Yes, thank you, exactly! That’s not an accident. He’s obviously using it as a cover to screen for something and that’s why I’m calling you. I’m hoping that you can help me figure out what he’s screening for,” I heard Spencer say.

What? Why is he discussing the case with this person? Clearly he’s comfortable with them because of how he’s addressing them.

My mind was racing.

“Yeah we worked doubling into the profile … I don’t know, actually … So you think this guy’s pursuing his own impossible cause …”

Who is this person? Who’s smart enough that Spencer’s going to them for help on a case? Not to mention close enough to him?

“Before he transplants, he turns them into amputees. That’s part of his experiment. What if there’s a condition the victim shares, something involving amputation?” he asked.

He’s calling them from a payphone like he did with his dealer, but this person isn’t a dealer. Could this be that friend I never followed up on that was being threatened?

“Unless it’s congenital, something that caused the amputation in utero?” A pause. “Exactly. So I guess the question is, what else causes birth defects?”

Okay, focus. He’s been calling someone on a payphone for at least a month, that I know of, so probably a bit longer. He has a secret friend that he really wants to protect. He was acting weird around Derek and I earlier tonight and asked Tara, the temporary member, to drive him instead of one of us. He’s showing no signs of relapse drug abuse.

I was racking my brain, trying to make sense of all of this.

Wait. If he’s calling this person on payphones, was he calling them right before we went to meet his dealer?

“What if we focused on what causes limb deformities specifically?” he asked.

This person is knowledgeable in the medical field. Surgeon, nurse, pediatrics, geneticist, epidemiologist, immunologist, infectious disease specialist…

“But there are a lot of different strains of herpes. You know, chicken pox, for instance. If a mother isn’t inoculated and she passes the virus in utero, can’t that cause birth defects?”

He’s literally solving this case with whoever the hell this is and the rest of us aren’t even included. He‘s talking with such passion and intrigue, his mind and mouth moving a million miles an hour, something he usually only did when he was bouncing ideas off of me or talking with me on the jet.

I checked my watch.

Shit. I’ve been out for five minutes.

I had to get back to the precinct and soon. The team was going to ask questions, and I couldn’t risk Reid getting back before me. I couldn’t wait to hear what else he had to say, quickly moving away from the side of the building, bursting into a full on sprint. I reached the precinct doors, somewhat out of breath, knowing the pink tint on my face was going to betray me.

I entered the conference room as casually as possible. Luckily, they were all deep in thought, wondering what we’d missed. I would’ve loved to jump in and offer what little information I heard from a one-sided phone call, but I knew I wouldn’t be helpful and all it would do would just let them know that I was eavesdropping. We’d just have to wait until Spencer got back.

When he did, he had the key information that we needed to narrow down our search. Apparently, we were looking for a man who married a woman that had limb deformities caused by chicken pox. The only one that showed up in Garcia’s search was a John Nelson. Rossi, JJ, and Reid headed over to his house to bring him in for questioning.

“What was that about?” Emily wondered aloud.

“I’d love to know,” I agreed.

“No, not that. Well yes, that, but I was more wondering about you.”

“About me?”

“Yeah. Is everything okay? You look stressed,” she pointed out.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I replied.

“You sure? You look a little flushed.”

“I’m good, I promise.”

“Alright. Let me know if that changes,” she said with a quick eyebrow raise.

“Will do,” I said. We both knew that was a lie.

Part 2

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

@kris-stuff

@wooya1224

15 notes · View notes

loveafterthefact · 4 years

Text

Love After the Fact Chapter 65: Broken Spell

Keith enjoys a morning out with Lance... Except for this one, *tiny* problem

First Previous Next

Keith wakes to a bare leg slung over his hip, fingers trailing from his shoulder and down his side, sliding across his waist to form teasing circles low on his abdomen. Lips flutter against the edge of his exposed ear, just a hint of teeth.

“Seriously?”

“What? I spent almost a decaphoeb celibate for you!” The Altean snuggles closer. “And now I find myself with a beautiful man in my arms who, unlike anyone else I’ve ever had, is entirely mine.”

The growl on Lance’s final word has Keith wavering, until he shifts and discovers the discomfort between his legs. He sucks in a breath between his teeth. “I think the fuck not, Lance. What did you do to my vagina?”

“Crude. Also, nothing. Discomfort is normal your first time. But I can fix it, if you like.”

“Please do. And how would you know that’s normal?”

“Well, I have an ass.”

“Gross.” Keith sighs as Lance’s quintessence slips beneath his skin. He’s come to associate that warmth slithering into his veins and nerves with Lance’s love and affection. It's familiar to him now, bringing him comfort, a sense of home and belonging. Basically, he’s a huge sucker.

“Hm… I’d love to have you in it.”

“Lance!” Keith roles over, discomfort gone, glaring at his mate. Lance raises an eyebrow. “I’ll... think about it. Thace says that I have to check and make sure my dick works anyway.”

“I’d be delighted to help, either way.” The Altean's smile is playful, easy-going.

“I’m sure you would.” Keith sighs. “So that’s the plan then? Have sex all day?”

“Mnh, no. We're going home before your season.”

“Lance, I need to have my season here. And stay two movements after that to see if I’ve conceived-”

“I meant your home, beloved. Your childhood home, remember? We said we’d-”

“Really?! You- Really?!” Keith’s face lights up like a thousand stars.

Lance beams. “Yes, really!"

Keith throws his arms around his mate. He'd never really doubted Lance's word, but that word still means worlds to him. Furry, plumed tail twisting around his ankle, purring loudly in his throat, Keith nuzzles into Lance's neck. He loves this Altean so much, couldn't think of a better place to be than right here.

Okay, maybe he's riding the high of being freshly mated, but he actually doesn't feel that different than before. Maybe a little giddy, but other than that... no more or less full of love. Still just as overflowing.

Laughing, Lance squeezes him tight, fingers running through his long, loose hair. He lets go all to soon- "Let’s go! Get your clothes on!”

Keith leaps up, scrambling for a fresh set of clothes. Lance flops back on the bed, chuckling as his spouse’s eagerness. The Galra pauses, turning back to meet Lance’s soft gaze. “What?”

“I love you,” Lance sighs.

“Well I should hope so, since I just gave myself over to you.” Keith grins, just a little cocky. “I love you, too.”

He pulls his shirt over his head, tucks the hem into the waist of his pants. Lance is still staring at him. “What?”

“Are we really gonna have a baby?”

“So that’s what you’re up to, is it?” Krolia leans in the doorway. Lance shrieks, pulling the blankets up to cover himself. “Making kits?”

“Well, we’re going to try. We’ll see what happens,” Lance squeaks. “Could you, um, let me get dressed?”

“Yeah, seriously, Mom. What the fuck?” Keith snickers, settling his circlet on his head. He hasn’t worn it in a while, but feels like it today. Lance wears his every day.

“Fine.” Krolia turns around, still leaning against the wall. “You do realize, don’t you Altean, just how easy it is for a Galra in season to conceive?”

“Uh… Not really, no. Altean females ovulate every ten movements -two phoebs-, and even then pregnancy is far from assured. It can take decaphoebs to-”

“During season, pregnancy is all but guaranteed, even for intersex people like Keith, though they do have a slightly lower success rate.” Krolia turns back, slow, slim smile on her lips. “So you’d better be damn well sure you want a kit with my son.”

Lance, fully dressed, slips an arm around Keith’s waist. “We have a responsibility to provide my kingdom with an heir. It’s an ugly thing, but it is something that we must take into account.” Keith’s tail twists around Lance’s ankle, squeezing tightly, approval of his honesty and forthright. “That said, I have wanted to be a father since I was a small child myself. I’m more than ready for it, and more than certain. Especially if I’ve got this one by my side!”

Lance beams, pressing their brows together. Keith purrs, soft and sweet in his throat.

“Right. So, we need elk, and supplies, and to meet up with hunters-”

“I want to visit the Sanctorium. I need to get an offering for my father.”

“You’re going back home? It’s almost your season!” Krolia frowns.

“Yes, which is why we’re going now,” Lance argues. “It’s not terribly far, it’ll give me a chance to see some of the wilderness, and we’ll be sure to return within a movement. In the meantime, we’ll send a message to Thace and inform him of our intentions to conceive, and he can begin collaboration with our own castle health care professional, Tavo, and Hunk, who is in charge of providing Keith’s meals. Additionally, I’ll have Adam and Pidge break into Daibazaal’s database and steal Lotor’s medical records. Honerva and Zarkon refused to unseal them for us.”

“Odd.” Krolia cocks her head, counting her coins, passing them to Keith. “Why would they refuse?”

“Not sure. Perhaps his records will tell us something. I intend to ask the man himself, as well.”

"Let me do it," Keith murmurs. "He's my cousin."

"Sure, of course! Do let me know what he says, though."

Krolia eyes them, gaze dark. “The Imperial couple is as morally dubious as Alfor is. Everybody knows that.”

Keith ties the bag of coins to his belt, scooping BleepBloop onto his shoulder. The primate works a hand into Keith’s hair, the other exploring his circlet. “Possibly even worse, though that is debatable.”

“Oh. Remind me to tell you about that later,” Lance mutters, suddenly looking nervous. “But for now, to the square! I want to see this 'Sactomium' you talked of.”

Arms linked, Keith leads Lance through the crowded streets, attention completely on each other save one moment where Lance murmurs something to Krolia, and she heads off with a nod, and something shiny in her hand...

The Sanctorium is a large structure, much like a den, but much larger, surrounded by gardens, vines creeping up the sides. Druids in long robes and masks walk among the vegetation, taking clippings and peeling bark from trees. Windchimes made of metal, wood, glass, and stone sing from tree branches and metal stands. There are Galra praying, meditating, simply walking about the grounds. Some converse with Druids, perhaps seeking spiritual council or advice on different rituals.

“So what are we here for?” Lance asks, gazing up at the structure. It’s clearly treated with respect. The stone is cared for and polished, painted with intricate designs, stained glass in the windows.

“Herbs. And a few different crystals. I need to make an offering spell for my father. For both a reunion and a goodbye.” Keith passes BleepBloop over to his mate, leading the way into the Sanctorium.

Inside is just as fascinating as the outside. There are shelves, arranged in a spiral shape, a single aisle through the middle to a desk, a Druid standing just behind. The shelves are lined with… stuff. Some, Lance can tell, are herbs, seeds, bits of stone and crystal. Some are definitely pieces of animals, like feet, claws, teeth, tails, and feathers. Others are… presumably one or possibly more of those things, but Lance can’t really tell.

“Hey, what do you think about this?” Keith holds up a clawed foot of some kind, only for BleepBloop to snatch and start munching on it. The Galra rolls his eyes at his uncooperative pet.

Lance shrugs. “I… Know nothing at all about your religion, either your magyks or your gods.”

“The basics are as follows,” Keith says, wandering through the aisles, grabbing seemingly random objects. “Different stuff does different stuff and only the druids know all of the stuff. And we have gods. There are hundreds of them, and everyone picks one or two to observe.”

“So who do you observe?” Lance leans over to inspect a box of he knows from his studies are shards of volcanic glass.

“Trija.” Keith continues selecting, measuring, gathering different objects, setting them all in a clay jar.

“Trija?” Lance’s brow furrows, a bit of forgotten knowledge tickling at his mind.

“She’s a star. A small one. She was our first empress, who supposedly married a sorceress and joined her in the stars when they both died.”

“I see… Why did you pick Trija?”

Keith pauses, fingers hovering over a box of dried fruits. Or maybe they were some kind of dead animal? He shakes himself, sets one of the dried… things in his jar.

“It was the only star I remembered. My father, he tried to teach me about the stars. I was really little, only six when he died, and I was a… precocious child-”

“Sassy. Opinionated. Stubborn. An adorable pain in the ass, no doubt.”

“Heh, yeah. Pretty much. But the one that managed to stick with me, no matter how unwilling a pupil I was, was Trija, because of the story. I held onto that, all those years. I was little, and alone, and I couldn’t sleep hardly at all. So I’d sit on top of the den, or in a tree, and I’d stare at her for hours, and it made everything just a little bit better. It made me feel less alone.”

“Keith…”

Keith’s fingers stop trailing over jars of herbs, turning to look at his mate, only for the Altean to latch onto him like a sucker eel, squeezing him tight. “I’m sorry. It was Altea’s fault you went through all that. My people took your father from you. I’m so sorry, Keith.”

“It’s not your fault,” Keith mutters, voice surprisingly thin. “Don’t apologize for them.”

“I promise I’ll ruin our childrens’ childhoods by spoiling them, not killing their parents.”

“Well, I am one of their parents, so…” Keith noses into Lance’s neck. “Let me buy this, and then we can-”

Keith’s eyes find Krolia, leaning in the entryway, glaring at Lance with absolute loathing. Something inside him breaks a little bit. She’d promised- Well, no, she hadn’t promised, but she’d agreed to give Lance a chance, to give him the opportunity to prove himself. And yet here she is, his mother, staring at his mate like she wants nothing more than to eviscerate him.

Something in Keith hardens, even as he squeezes Lance harder so he won’t pull back and see. He feels betrayed. It must reach his eyes, because Krolia falters in her glare, blinking at him in alarm.

Keith meets her gaze, stares her down as he rubs his cheek against Lance’s skin. Petty? Totally. Possessive? Oh, yeah. Necessary? Absolutely. He hates it, but yesterday, he would have chosen Lance, and today, it wouldn't be a choice at all.

“Come on, beloved.” Lance rubs his back, soothing circles. “Let’s get the stuff for your offering, and then get you home.” The prince draws back, lacing their hands together. “I want to meet Akira of house Kogane. I want to thank him for saving you.”

“Of course you do,” Keith murmurs, smiling, hand slipping up to link their arms. “I don’t remember him very well, but Dad would have liked you. He was the fun-loving, mischievous type. I think… That’s how I remember him, anyway.”

“If he made you, he must have been. You certainly didn’t get it from Krolia.”

“Yeah…” Keith grimaces, paying the druid behind the desk for his stuff. “You’ve no idea.”

“I mean… I’ve shared a room with her. For about a varga. I think I’ve at least some idea.”

Keith laughs. He just wants to enjoy Lance’s company, riding the high of their freshly consummated bond.

“But you know… Your mother has had a hard life, and one far from painless. It might just be taking her a while to remember how to do those things.”

“Yeah. I guess. Maybe.” They step together out into the sun. “Maybe she’ll loosen up as time goes on, huh?”

“Lance!” Krolia jogs up, like she just arrived. “I need to speak to you for a moment. Alone.”

“Very well.” Lance lifts their joined hands to indicate a pair of elk, laden with saddlebags, suddenly reminding Keith of his first night in the castle, when Lance gave him a tour of their quarters. “Your mother procured some supplies and elk for us, over there. Do you mind?”

“I guess not…” Keith eyes his mother cautiously. “See you soon?”

“Yes, and then we’ll leave.” Lance kisses his cheek, hurrying after Krolia.

Anxious, Keith heads for the elk, recognizing one of them as Lance’s doe from training, Bruna. He rubs her nose. “Hey, pretty girl. You’re gonna take good care of my dumbass mate for me, right? Assuming my mother doesn’t kill him first?”

Lance comes running up, a bag over his shoulder. “Okay, lets go!”

“What’s in the bag?”

“I’ll tell you later; let’s go!” Lance vaults onto Bruna, turning expectantly to his dazed spouse. “Kee-eeith. Let’s gooo-oooo.”

“R- Right!” Keith mounts his own elk -nameless, because he’s not an enormous dork-, urging him into a walk. “So we’re really leaving, then?”

“Yes, we’re really leaving! I can’t wait to see it! I want to see everything, remember? Remember when I-”

“You’re going to talk the entire way there, aren’t you?”

“Wha- No! No, I’m not! But I just want to mention-”

Keith smiles, shaking his head. His mother’s glare still stings, but it’s hard to be angry when facing off against Lance’s smile. He doesn’t see his mate like this very often -hardly ever-, so he might as well enjoy it while he can.

He does have a question though, one that’s been nagging at him for the better part of a movement now…

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

9 notes · View notes

kallura-icedcoffee · 5 years

Note

Arranged marriage au?? But twist: she’s betrothed the Lotor, so Keith (and Allura, secretly) doesn’t like that

As a paladin of Voltron Keith has one job. Clock in, pilotthe lion, occasionally shake hands and kiss babies on behalf of Altea and thecoalition, clock out. Everything else, including the politics and formaltraditions of Altea, isn’t really his concern or his business. Just pilot thelion and protect the universe.

And yet…

He and the other paladins strut down the hallway, back fromtheir mission, his helmet tucked under his arm as he flanks Shiro. Lancefollows behind him with Pidge and Hunk on the other side. Approaching is theGalra Prince Lotor with his generals as well as several guards. Shiro and theothers give a polite nod as one group passes the other but when it’s time forKeith and Lotor to acknowledge each other’s presence there’s nothing politeabout it. Both men are throwing daggers, no bigger, broadswords? The tension ispalpable. Keith has no real reason to hate the guy, but he absolutely hates theguy.

“I can’t believe the princess is gonna marry that guy.”Lance pinches his nose theatrically.

“It’s archaic. You’re telling me their civilization isadvanced enough to build a giant semi-sentient kitty robot man, but you stillhave to marry off your daughter?” Pidge rolls her eyes.

“The princess is so nice she should get marry who she wants”Hunk adds.

“C’mon guys, it’s not our place, be respectful.”

Shiro turns back as he reprimands the group, tossing asympathetic and knowing glance to Keith who received it and quickly lookedtoward the floor.

“I am respectful. I’ll simply think he’s a greaseballwithout saying it out loud. Better?” Lance grins.

Keith’s mouth curls into a smirk. He wouldn’t give Lance thesatisfaction of finally agreeing with him on something, but damn if he wasn’tfeeling the same.

The squad enters the conference room where the Galra hadjust left to find King Alfor sitting there with Queen Melanor by his side. Theprincess was pacing the room growing more irritated by the second.

“He seems lovely.” Melanor was attempting the reassure herdaughter.

“You know who else is lovely? The gardener. Why can’t I marryher instead?” She asks, her tone snarky and full of sass.

“Because the gardener can’t ensure peace between Altean andDaibaz- oh paladins hello.” The king stands, initially caught off guard attheir sudden presence.

“Apologies for the interruption Your Highness.” Shiro bows.

“Don’t worry yourselves, we were just finishing up.” Melenorsmiles gently as she rose to her feet.

“We’re definitely done here” Allura hisses and stomps fromthe room but not before she stops in her tracks at the sight of Keith.

They lock eyes and her expression changes to flusteredconfusion followed by an audible huff from her nostrils then she’s gone. Keith’schest tingles ever so slightly.

“I’ll brief the king on today’s mission, the rest of you aredismissed.” Shiro orders and the group seemed to collectively relax theirshoulders.

“I’m hittin’ the pool” Lance announces the second they exitthe double doors.

“Same.” Hunk winces while rubbing his shoulders.

“Just don’t splash me this time” Pidge growls.

“Then don’t wear your glasses in the pool” Lance snaps.

“You comin’ Keith?” Hunk asks.

“Uh, I’ll catch up” Keith responds as if there was someimportant business he actually needed to attend to first.

And it was important-ish. After changing into his civilianclothes he decides to go patrol…in the middle of the day…in the library. Hestrolls past the stacks, peeking down each aisle until he finds what he waslooking for, what he knew would be there while pretending it was a completecoincidence.

“Oh hey princess” he says nonchalantly, hands in hispockets. “Funny seeing you here.”

“Keith?” Allura looks up at him from the floor as she sitsleaning against a bookcase with a novel in her hand.

“Uh I was just…looking for…um…this.” He pulls a random bookfrom the shelf, the cover of which he can’t read what with it being in Altean.

“The history of ancient Arusian mating rituals?” Alluratries desperately to hide her snicker.

Keith looks at the book, blushes profusely and fumbling,quickly put it back.

“It’s all right to admit you were checking up on me.” Shepats the spot beside her.

Keith shrugs and crouches down to join her.

“You seemed mad earlier.”

Allura grumbles and snaps her book shut.

“I don’t want to be married. At least not right now andcertainly not with that man.” She pouts.

“Oh?” Keith feigns concern while internally poppingchampagne.

“I know I’m not a normal girl, but I was sort of hoping Icould at least have a somewhat normal courtship with a man of my choosing.”

“You could still have that. You, you could say no.”

“Father would kill me. We’re signing a peace treaty but hefeels this marriage would ensure both parties commit to it. But I don’t wantit!” She whines and slaps her hands against the hard cover of the book.

“Just be honest. You’re his kid. Surely he cares about yourfeelings.”

Allura sits silently, pondering, suddenly her face lightsup.

“Hmm…you’re right Keith. I’ll tell him I can’t go throughwith it because I’m already in love with someone else. If he thinks I alreadyhave a suitor he couldn’t possibly force me into this marriage! Brilliant idea!”

“W-w-wait what? Allura that’s not what I said!” he stammers.

The princess is already hopping to her feet.

“Yes it is!”

“No I said be honest with him, not make up some boyfriend toget out of it!”

“I’m not making it up, I actually do have feelings forsomeone else.”

Keith’s heart nearly snaps in two and he halts getting up,sitting back on the balls of his feet instead.

“Huh? Who?” he blurts out, voice shakier than he’d like.

“You silly, do catch up” she says flippantly, almost insultedhe was so daft not to know all this time. “Well I’m going to go tell father.Gosh why didn’t I think of it sooner? You’re so smart Keith thank you!”

She giggles and whips around, jogging out of the library.Keith sits there, baffled, disoriented, struggling to piece together what justhappened. Did Allura just say she…with him…and she’s going to tell Alfor? Keith’seyes go wide and he scrambles to his feet bolting after her, part of him elatedbut mostly praying Alfor doesn’t strap him to Red and autopilot it toward thenearest sun.

#kallura #juniblade #forever rosegold #ficsbyKIC #drabbles

19 notes · View notes

breeeliss · 7 years

Text

[Voltron]: a little solace and peace

sooooooo......first voltron fic?

for @longhairpidge bc she’s recently been enchanted with plance and she cheered me up yesterday when i was feeling crummy. so here’s hoping that the rest of your day starts looking up :)

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Title: a little solace and peace Pairings: Place (Pidge x Lance) Summary: Pidge knows what it’s like to lose most of what you call yours and find yourself flung into space to fight a war she might not win. It’s not the time to want things that are silly and wish for things that won’t happen. But Lance knows that she deserves it.

a little solace and peace

Pidge cut her hair for Matt.

Sweeping her hair into the trash can, stealing Matt’s old frames, and becoming Pidge Gunderson was a manifesto to herself — a single-minded promise to bring her family back to her no matter the distraction, no matter the cost to her, no matter how long it took. If she ever lost sight of that promise, all she ever needed to do was look in the mirror, squint her eyes, let the edges of her reflection blur and soften, and wait until she saw Matt staring back at her, telling her not to give up.

So perhaps, on the outside looking in, it does seem rather ridiculous for her to be tearing her room apart, looking for a knife or some scissors to take to her hair after looking in the mirror that morning and seeing Katie — Katie who was letting her hair grow out too long, Katie who needed to remember Matt, Katie who made a promise — but this is all she has of him anymore. A worn photograph and his blurred face staring back at her in the reflection of her paladin helmet.

When she finds nothing, Pidge heads to Lance’s room because if there’s anyone who cares more about what stares back at them in the mirror every morning, it’s him.

He’s wiping off the last bits of his facemask with a towel when she opens the door, and he barely has time to ruffle her hair and spit out a dorky greeting before the words are flying out of her mouth, “I need to borrow a pair of scissors.”

Lance blinks at the volume and speed of her words, but looks back into his room — covered in facial products, old Altean lounge clothes he’s repurposed into robes and pajamas, gifts inhabitants from other planets have given him over the past year — and says, “I’m pretty sure I have some around here somewhere. Why, what do you need them for?”

Pidge swallows. “I just need them. Just for five minutes.”

Lance merely shrugs — it’s not the first time Pidge has asked her teammates for weird things to aid in whatever pet project is keeping her distracted that day — and invites her in, letting her sit on his unmade bed while he rummages around his drawers and produces a small pair of scissors that don’t look very sharp but will probably do the job just fine.

He takes the edge of his shirt to wipe the blades clean, but right when Pidge thinks he’s going to hand them off to her and leave it at that, he beckons her to the bathroom attached to his room. “Come on, get in here already. Breakfast is gonna be served soon, and I don’t want Keith stealing bigger portions again.”

“Wait, what are you doing?” she asks.

Lance smirks and points to his own head. “You need a haircut, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a beautician or anything, but I know an uneven cut when I see one and it’s been bothering the crap out of me since day one. I’m practically begging for you to let me even it out for you.”

Pidge frowns. “How did you know that I — ?”

“I mean, it’s obvious it’s getting longer,” Lance explains. “But you keep yanking and touching it like it’s annoying you. Plus I know how anal you were about keeping your hair short in the Garrison.” When Pidge doesn’t move, he grabs her wrist and walks her to the bathroom. “Come on, I’m not gonna fuck it up, I promise.”

As she’s sticking her head in the sink to wet her hair, Lance tells her that haircuts used to cost too much money back home, so he just learned to trim his hair himself to save the cash for the things he needed. He’s ridiculously thorough about it, going so far as to throw a spare towel over her shoulders and spin her around in the stool in his bathroom like she’s in a barber’s chair. Lance turns her so that she’s facing the mirror, strokes his chin, and walks around her stool completely. “So. What are we going for here? Rihanna? Miley Cyrus? Kristen Stewart? You’d look chill in an undercut, but I don’t think there are any shears in space. God, that’s such a shame. You’d be the most badass looking one out of all of us.”

Pidge smirks and adjusts the towel. “Just….how it looked before is fine.”

“How it looked before except not like your ends went through a food processor, right?”

“Fuck you, my hair didn’t look that bad.”

“Por dios, Pidge, language! And I love you, but you can’t cut your hair for shit. But don’t worry. Lance is here to take care of you. I won’t even charge you for the wash.”

Pidge rolls her eyes at him, but keeps her head straight as she lets him work. It’s gone to her shoulders in the months that she’s left it uncut, and Lance immediately cuts across just short of the length he wants before he pinches her hair between his fingers and cleans up the ends. Lance is rarely quiet — he’s all too big smiles, too loud voice, too much soul that fills the room like sunlight pouring in through a window — but with the exception of his occasional humming, he works on Pidge’s hair in complete silence. She lets herself close her eyes to the sound of his snipping and moving around her, trying to remember the last time someone had gently turned her chin, brushed her shoulders clean of hair, accidentally grazed her ear with their finger. She can’t quite find the moment, and it reminds her how long she’s been gone.

He’s leaning away from her and occasionally making small snips to make extra sure that he’s leaving her hair even when he says, “You’re like the spitting image of your brother, dude.”

Pidge smiles softly and gently moves a wet strand of her bangs out of her eyes. “Yeah. The two of us got that a lot. If you put our baby pictures side to side there’s legit no difference. Used to freak everyone out.”

“Oh my God please tell me you took tests for each other and stuff.”

“He’s older than me, you idiot, that would’ve never worked,” Pidge chuckles. “Although, I’m pretty sure we dressed up as the Hitachin Twins for Halloween one year.”

Lance tips his head back and cackles. “Anime twins! Classic! Please tell me you have pics.”

“Plenty. They’re all at home though,” Pidge says, and she doesn’t say anything more. She doesn’t want to promise Lance that she’ll show them to him when they get home because the concept of going home seems so far removed from them now she doesn’t want to go injecting false hope where it might do more harm than good.

Lance pulls a comb from his pocket and starts brushing through her short strands. She looks in the mirror and already starts to feel more like herself. “It’s tough, huh?” he asks.

“I just hate not knowing,” Pidge explains. “I know mom is at home and she’s safe even though she’s not here. But Dad and Matt….there’s a whole universe out there, Lance, they could be anywhere. And there’s no way to know for sure short of just carving through every planet and ship we find and hoping they’re there.”

Lance is done with her hair, using the towel to dry the ends and brush any last cut pieces off her shirt. “They’re closer than you think,” he promises. “You don’t have to look that far or for that long. They’re gonna come back to you soon.”

“You don’t know that,” Pidge replies. “Like, you actually don’t. None of us do.”

“I don’t have to know it. I can feel it,” Lance explains. “I’m going off my gut here and it’s never failed me before.”

“Your gut convinced you to flirt with a girl who tried to trick you into her planet’s weekly fertility ritual. I still do not forget what those fertility tents looked like, Lance. The crap we went through to save you…”

“ Okay ,” Lance says loudly, his cheeks warming in embarrassment. “So it’s not right all the time. But it’s right about the important things and this is important. This is all temporary, Pidge. Trust me. Besides, my mom always says ‘ a mal tiempo, buena cara.’”

“What does that mean?”

“Means put a good face to the bad times. When shit goes south, stay positive. Good attitude works wonders. And no matter what you think, I’m gonna have a good attitude for you and rub all the karma your way because I’m that generous.”

Pidge rolls her eyes. “You’re a regular humanitarian.”

Lance chuckles and puts his face right next to Pidge’s so that they can look at her hair together. He nods in approval and knocks his head with hers. “You know. Undercut or not, you’re still the most badass looking one out of all of us. I did a pretty good job.”

“It’s definitely not bad,” Pidge agrees. She smiles at him through the mirror. “Thanks. Even though I could’ve done it myself! But still, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Lance winks back. And then, quite out of nowhere, he shocks her by kissing her.

It’s just a quick one on her temple, and Lance treats it like it’s just as natural as if he’d just high fived her or ruffled the hair on the top of her head. Pidge wants to say something but he’s already turning around to put his scissors and towel away, and Pidge doesn’t want to blow up something that seemed so miniscule and superficial to Lance. But Pidge feels that entire side of her body warm up with one shocked shiver before mellowing out into a lingering warmth that demands an explanation but has none. On the other hand, this was Lance, and Lance tended to do things on the fly just because and for no other reason. It was possible that this was just another one of those times.

Her fingers reach up to the temple still holding onto the ghost of Lance’s lips against her skin, and she looks down at the ticker in her pocket. “Thanks again, Lance,” Pidge speaks up, trying oh so hard to sound casual and hoping she does the job. “Hurry up. Breakfast is probably on already.”

Pidge accepted long ago that being in space meant that there are things she won’t ever get to do now. Or at least, not anytime soon.

She won’t finish school and get that trip to Disneyland that her mother promised her as a graduation present. Despite the crash course on piloting she’d gotten this past year, she won’t learn how to drive — like actually sit in her brother’s old Subaru and stop short at stop signs, accidentally run over garbage cans, and complain about being too short for the pedals. She’ll never get invited to shitty house parties or have her first drink with Matt or finish that computer she was building or get a normal first kiss.

Pidge learns that when you’re in the middle of a war, there’s no clear end in sight, and it’s possible that she’ll be fighting and searching for a very long time, all while her life hangs precariously in the midst of battles that could quite literally kill her. But Pidge accepts this just like everyone else. Everyone has things that have been taken from them — things they’ll simply have to learn to live without or replace with whatever can be crudely fashioned out of parts scrounged from an existence spent in a castle flying light years away from home — but they put it aside in favor of picking up their weapons and pledging their lives to protecting an entire universe.

It makes no sense to wish for those missing things. They’re gone, and Pidge focuses on the now. She won’t go home without her brother and father. She won’t go home without fulfilling her duty to her team because they matter, they’re hers now, and she has to protect them too. But Pidge still feels herself wanting them despite that logic, and it makes her feel sick with guilt.

Lance is the only one who makes it known just how much he misses the little things he’ll never get to have — unapologetic in the way he wishes for comfort and simplicity but valiantly picks up the sword he never asked for in the first place. Lance tells everyone how much he wants to feel wet sand between his toes, take long drives along the coast, and dance salsa at family parties until his feet are sore. Even when they were in the Garrison together, Lance never felt guilty for being selfish.

Pidge’s first night in the Garrison — after their first failed flight simulation, after hacking the Garrison files led to no answers, after she stared at her photo albums for hours and felt the back of her throat aching from the effort of holding every sob and scream back — Lance found her curled up against the wall of her bunk, hugging a pillow to her chest, and staring at the walls while sleep continued to elude her.

Lance had snuck plates of food out of the mess hall to bring back for her because she had missed dinner. He left them by the desk next her door and sat cross legged by the edge of her bed, eye level with her tear stained face that she was too lazy to hide from him. “Homesickness?” he asked.

She promised she wouldn’t reveal anything personal to her crewmates. She was there to work, not get personal. They didn’t know about Matt, about her father, about her research into the Kerberos mission. But Lance wasn’t wrong , so she nodded and hid her face in the pillow when just that simple confession released a dam of frustration that even Pidge was too small to temper.

Lance rubbed her back and squeezed her shoulder while she silently poured tears into her pillow case. “Yeah, man. I feel. It’s tough being away from home. Pretty sure I cried like a baby my first night here because I came back from dinner in the mess hall and nothing tasted like home. I mean, granted this school food is kind of crap, but you get my point.”

“They feel far away,” Pidge rambled, forgetting that she wasn’t supposed to be making anyone privy to her thoughts, wasn’t supposed to distract herself from what she went there to do. “I can’t get to them. And I hate that it gets me like this.”

“I mean, it’s not perfect, but there’s always FaceTime.”

Pidge snorted and felt herself cry harder, because if only it was that easy. She’d kill to see their faces even if it was through a spotty cell reception. But of course Lance doesn’t see the irony that she sees and just keeps rubbing her back, which is oddly more comforting than Pidge would’ve figured.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” he told her. “Like screw not being manly or being a baby about stuff you can’t change. You’re allowed to be sad about something even though it won’t change anything. Sometimes sitting and being sad helps to just get it all out.”

Lance is annoying when he complains, is annoying when he’s overly dramatic about little things, but when she stops to think about it, Pidge knows why he does it. He knows that sometimes you just need to sit there and complain about how unfair everything is — just to ease the ache and let everything unravel and breathe — before you picked up and started from where you left off again. Feeling the controls of her lion in her hands makes her feel like she has to grow up impossibly fast, pretend that she’s unbothered and focused. But Lance makes her guilt melt away and makes her feel like it’s okay to sit and pine for something simpler.

He sat with Pidge for hours that night at the Garrison, resting a hand over her forehead and kissing the back of it before he slipped out while she was still only half asleep, hoping that she woke up feeling a little bit better and reminding her to eat. Back then and now, Lance’s unspoken words always reach into her heart with a sincere reminder.

Feel for yourself. Cry for yourself. Hope for yourself. Want things that are silly and wish for things that won’t happen. You deserve it.

It’s amazing how quickly a routine mission made to sound so simple can turn into a complete fucking shitstorm in five minutes flat.

They’ve gotten into the routine of wiping clean the computers in every abandoned Galra base they find on the off chance they can pluck out any names, coordinates, or scraps of mission logs that might be useful to them. Any little bit helps when your mission is basically to liberate an entire universe from an alien race. Hunk, Keith, and Shiro were meant to scope the base for lingering soldiers or survivors while Lance covered Pidge as she wiped their drives clean.

Except their plan manages to fail spectacularly when the alarms to the base start blaring the moment Pidge hooks up her computer to their systems. Suddenly Keith is screaming into the comms, saying that the bay doors won’t open and they’re cut off from their lions. Pidge is at the Galra computers, pulling up their code, running it through her computer, and quickly forcing her brain to come up with an override for the bay doors. But the realization that this is most certainly an ambush doesn’t come until Galra start pouring into the communications room, and a self-destruct beacon set for ten minutes is echoing through the base.

Lance is already at her back, his blaster pumping continuous fire into the chests of all the drones that are rushing them from all sides while Pidge tries to disable the self-destruct program. It’s just walls and walls of codes and commands that seem much more complicated than your standard Galra defense system. She knows it’s been rigged specifically for a trap like this, and it’s brutal to break through. Pidge is running scripts and ripping down firewalls only to find that she’s sifting through endless layers of pure numbers and it feels like she’s not getting anywhere. There are seven minutes left, Lance is still shooting, Shiro, Keith, and Hunk are trying to blast open the bay doors, and she realizes she needs more time.

This is her thing. This is what Pidge does. Her teammates depend on her to be able to run the numbers, think quickly, let her mind run a mile a minute, and get them out of tight spots like this. So far she’s never failed, and it’s literally saved their lives. But every algorithm Pidge tries fails, and the countdown screeching out every thirty seconds is making the numbers mix up in her head and making her brain trip over her thoughts. She’s gritting her teeth and mashing her fingers down hard on the keyboard, as if this will all make the scripts run faster, make her thoughts run more efficiently. But then she hears Lance scream out in pain as a well-aimed shot singes the side of his thigh and he cripples into a heap against the control panel.

“Pidge,” Lance mutters, sounding calm for someone who’s got a leg bleeding out on the floor and is wincing through every pull of his trigger. “How are we looking?”

Pidge is shaking her head, and she can feel her fingers trembling. “I’m….I-I’m trying. But this is like breaking out of fucking Alcatraz.”

“Don’t worry, Pidge, you’ve got this,” Lance encourages, leaning over her to shoot down a drone coming up on her right. “You always do.”

Yes, she always does, because this is her thing, this is what she’s supposed to be doing, and she’s not allowed to fail at it. She can’t fail her family, her friends, the universe, things are too dire for that. But there’s five minutes left and they’re about to die and she still can’t override the security and damn it all she can feel tears pushing against the backs of her eyes because she’s trying and it’s not fucking working.

Lance must see the turmoil on her face because his gun is on the floor and he’s grabbing Pidge’s shoulders to turn her towards him and cup her cheeks in his hands. She’s only barely aware of the wave of Galra soldiers briefly ceasing and giving them a moment of reprieve but Pidge’s mind is still running numbers, desperately pushing through for a solution.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Lance is muttering and she has to work hard to drag her eyes up to meet his. “Breathe. In and out. Okay?”

“I don’t have time,” she’s mumbling, her thoughts sprinting and tripping right out her mouth. “It’s taking too much time, I’m doing everything I can, but I can’t do it in enough time, I’m not gonna finish and we’re all going to — ”

“Don’t you start doing that, Pidge,” Lance implores, pressing his forehead — slicked with sweat and blood — to hers.

“I can’t think Lance there’s no time to think because it’s not working!” she shouts at him, furious because he can weave all the pretty words that he wants but he doesn’t understand.

“Listen, listen to me,” he tells her, and his fingers are drawing circles on her cheeks and it’s grounding and she prays for it to help. “You’re allowed to screw up. You don’t have to breeze through this, you’re not perfect. But I know you and I know you can do this if you just….breathe. Please, breathe.”

He fills his chest with air to show her, and he’s not satisfied until Pidge is pulling in a breath through her nose and releasing in a shaky sigh. Lance nods in satisfaction, smiles, and presses a kiss to her forehead just as more Galra drones are marching down the halls towards them. “You’ve got it. I know you do.”

Lance is turning back to the drones, limping into position and staying in one spot to help him pivot around and not further injure his leg. Pidge doesn’t understand how he does that — how he’s bleeding from his leg and still managing to defend her even when he’s not entirely sure that they’re going to get out of this. It’s as if he has full faith in her but has already forgiven her if it turns out it’s just too much, and it shouldn’t be fair for someone to just be able to have that much blind faith in things that he can’t predict. But Lance is fighting for her and her teammates are rooting for her and she’s got four minutes to make this right.

His calm clears her head and the kiss he left on her skin feels like it sinks into her brain and invigorates it with purpose. Because suddenly she has an idea, and it’s an abysmally stupid one, but if she can nail it they’ll be able to get out of here in time. It’s a complicated stream code that she’s only ever tried once on Galra computers like this but it’s a beast of an override if she can force herself to remember it all. It takes her minutes to type in and she’s only got seconds left by the time she sends it and hopes that it breaks down what it needs to. Her heart is pounding and she’s sweating on the back of her neck as she waits for it to go through.

There’s only four seconds left on the countdown when it finally sputters out and the bay doors downstairs fly open. Pidge grins from ear to ear as she pulls out her bayard and helps Lance take out the last several drones still in the room with them, seeing the exhaustion that’s slowing him down. Once the last drone fizzles out into a hunk of metal on the floor, Pidge runs to Lance and wraps one of his arms around her shoulder. “Okay. Come on. You’re losing way too much blood and we need to get out of here.”

Lance chuckles, limps with her out of the comms room, and grips her shoulder tightly. “Knew you could do it. That’s all that matters.”

Pidge waits outside of Lance’s healing pod even though Coran promised it would only take an hour or two for him to be all fixed up. The wound on his leg was easily patched up and the blood loss was easily fixed with more food once he managed to get out.

But Pidge stays because she owes it to him. Not just for snapping her back to herself today or shooting down literally dozens of drones through his pain just to keep her safe, although it’s mostly for that. But Lance puts too much of himself into others to not have someone meet him halfway, even if it’s something as simple as waiting for him to stumble out of a healing pod and give him some food and lead him back to his bed.

It’s not the first time this occurs to her, but someone like Lance doesn’t deserve to be in space away from the people who love him, deprived of all the love he deserves and doesn’t get enough of in the middle of a literal war. In reality, none of them do, but Lance especially seems so out place here, looks so wrong sitting injured in a healing pod only to come out and have to repeat the process again when the chance calls for it. Lance cares too much. Pieces of him are missing and he still finds enough of himself to cut up and hand to others because he has so much damn love to give to people he doesn’t even owe that kindness to. He deserves to get it all back and Pidge knows that, to a point, it’s impossible for the universe to pay him back in return for it.

So Pidge stays. Because he's a goof that speaks in memes and sneaks up on her when she has headphones in and liked to lean his elbow on her head because he finds it funny how short she is. Because he didn’t even know her all that well when they first met and still managed to let her know that he understood and was there to give her his kindness. She's sure that Lance doesn't see that as a strength of his, but Pidge is starting to realize how much it breathes life into their team and into her. It isn’t her forte — she doesn't deal in unknowns unless she knows exactly how to arrive at them — but Lance deserves it.

She owes it to him. So she stays.

It’s exactly an hour and a half when the healing pod slides open and Pidge catches Lance as he trips out of the pod and groans from the vertigo. “God, I hate those things,” he mutters.

“Wouldn’t know,” Pidge smirks. “Keith tells me they’re freezing, and Hunk says he just feels claustrophobic the whole time. I feel like I’m the only one who hasn’t hopped into one of those things.”

“And it’s going to stay that way if I can help it,” Lance says.

Pidge rolls her eyes. “That’s not an invitation for you to get shot to hell just to save my neck.”

“You make it sound like a chore,” Lance winks, but ignores her glare and tests out his healed leg. “Jesus, I’m starving. Please tell me you’ve got some space goop.”

Pidge reaches down to the floor where her bag is and hands him a bowl of food. “Gorge down, my friend. Coran says you’ve gotta keep eating since your blood pressure basically plummeted back there. Thanks for almost dying, you idiot.”

“Ah, I didn’t almost die, it was just a bloody leg,” Lance shrugs, talking with his mouth full. “Besides, gave you time to save our asses, so is it really a loss?”

“That’s literally the definition of a loss.”

“Eh, details. We’re all safe so it doesn’t really matter, right?”

Pidge sighs and starts to lead them out the medical bay. “Well. It was almost for nothing. That base was a total bust. Their computers were already wiped when we got there. Guess they’ve been catching onto how we’ve been getting intel.”

“Typical,” Lance mutters. “This is a good time to bring up my double agent idea to Allura again.”

“We’re not doing that,” Pidge deadpans.

“I’m just saying ,” Lance insists with a smile, “we paint Keith’s face purple and get him to pull some 007 shit on a Galra ship and we’re in business.”

“Yeah you go tell Keith that. Maybe he’ll let you narrate his theme music in the comms while he’s on mission.”

“You think!?”

“Lance, shut up,” Pidge laughs.

The rest of the team is resting after their stressful mission, but Lance has been resting for hours in the healing pod and Pidge keeps terrible hours most of the time anyway. So she brings them into one of the comms rooms on the ship and spends an hour finally hooking up the video game that they bought from the Space Mall to see if they can get it up and running. It took Pidge, Hunk and Coran as a collective to figure out how to make the connection between the ship and the old console compatible through some clever wiring and a few upgrades to the console itself, but she finishes off the adjustments and grins when Lance cheers at the menu screen that shows up.

It finally feels a little bit like they’re just sitting in Pidge’s basement and playing video games on the weekend. They’re at it for ages and in between levels Pidge stares at Lance’s face to see him practically beaming at finally getting to have a tiny taste of home, even if it’s something silly like a video game. It’s times like this when she notices how his eyes sometimes get too big and too bright and realizes that this is how she wishes she could feel all the time — a carefree kid with her parents and her brother back on Earth with all of her friends where everything is simple and doing stupid things doesn’t have consequences like it does here.

It’s unrealistic, but Lance pulls enthusiasm from the air and makes Pidge believe that one day this will all be over, and they’ll be able to return home safe and sound and finally have the normality that’s owed to them. She owes him for that.

“Thanks for today,” she says as they’re skipping through the narration on the bottom of the screen as the story progresses. “I mean, having my back like that. I appreciate it.”

Lance turns to her with a shocked look on his face, but quickly allows it to melt away into a smirk. “You don’t have to thank me. Like I wouldn’t totally go and do it again.”

“I know. But you still don’t have to. And you do anyway. I just want you to know that I’m grateful for it, alright?”

Then Lance does something strange again — he takes her hand, rubs his thumb across the backs of her knuckles, and presses a quick kiss there. Like the kiss at the Garrison. Like the kiss when he was cutting her hair. Like the kiss when he was bleeding on the floor and begging her to focus on what he knew she could do. Quick, casual, like he didn’t even have to think about it before he knew that it felt right. Lance, the showoff, won’t even let her thank him without showing her up in a show of affection that she doesn’t even know how to comprehend.

He turns back to the game and Pidge decides to do the same, suddenly feeling like there’s a scale that they’re both standing on that Lance has unfairly weighted towards his side. They’re staying up late and laughing through the video game and acting like normal teenagers….and she owes him.

They’re sitting alone in the kitchens and having a late breakfast after sleeping in the next morning when she kisses him on the cheek.

She counts how long it lasts — as long as Lance’s first three put together — and doesn’t pull back until all the time is added up into a perfect balanced equation. Lance stops in the middle of lifting his spoon to his mouth and looks a little bit like a gaping fish, and Pidge suddenly doesn’t know why she even did that. But she’s learning that dealing with Lance is often an exercise in being comfortable with the fact that things don’t always have to make sense.

He blinks at her. “What was that for?”

Pidge shrugs and doesn’t look down at her food to avoid his gaze. She owns it because fair turnabout and all that jazz, and she tells him as much. “Payback. For all the kisses you’ve ever given me, and I’ve been noticing them.” Really, it’s for everything else that’s happened since they met, but that's not something she can make her mouth produce. Pidge works in numbers and evening out equations, and she tells him that this is just adding more mass to her side.

Lance chuckles and leans closer to her. “You don’t have to do that. I wasn’t doing it and waiting for you to even us out.”

“I know you weren’t,” Pidge nods. “But you deserve to be paid back for it anyway. Although I’m not sure why you’re doing it.”

Lance leans his chin in his hand. “Can you guess?”

“I don’t know,” Pidge frowns. “To make me feel better?”

“Sort of,” he grins. “I don’t know I guess….you’ve gone through enough crap, you know? And I guess….I guess it just seems important for you to know that there’s someone looking out for you and making sure you’re happy. It’s not my job or anything, but I want to do it for you. Because you’re….well you’re you , you know?”

No. Pidge doesn’t know. All she knows is that his kisses don’t feel like the times when Shiro hugs her and lets her rant about Matt, when Keith quietly sits with her and knows exactly when words just aren’t good enough, or when Hunk and her buckle down and make a list of all the human food they’re going to eat when they get back home. It feels deeper and it feels poignant in a way that she doesn’t expect from Lance. She knows that it’s all these things because it’s difficult to understand. It doesn’t tease itself apart in discernable pieces and it feels like there’s something he’s trying to tell her that she simply isn’t seeing. And Pidge can’t stand it when she has evidence that doesn’t neatly fit together into an explanation for her, and the only way to solve that is to get more proof.

So Pidge leans in and kisses him again, this time closer to the edge of his mouth and she feels it. Can’t explain it or put a word to it or understand it for the life of her, but it feels too heavy and too filled with things for it to be just something to make her feel better. Lance is closing his eyes and turning his head to face her when she pulls away again. She sees the blush on his face, his big eyes full of love to give, and then it all comes crashing into her because now she’s so close and he’s letting himself be vulnerable. Everything that she needs is so clearly written on his face.

Then Pidge remembers she’s a girl stuck on a spaceship for the foreseeable future, and there are things she still wants to do.

So she stays. She waits for him to finish leaning in, finish shutting his eyes, finally kissing her full on the lips — gentle, uncomplicated, but enough to make her heart feel full with something that it had been deprived of for a very long time. It’s short, and her head doesn’t spin, and it doesn’t feel like everything is different and nothing will ever be the same. It feels like things have sharpened, because now she knows that Lance doesn’t do things just to do them. He’s frenetic but intentional, and everything was always going to coalesce and come back to this. Sitting together at the kitchen table, floating in space, not sure what tomorrow was going to bring, hoping for things they wished they could have back, and putting a good face to the bad times.

They laugh when they break apart, and the air feels sweet and light and like all the things Pidge didn’t think she’d be able to grab back for herself for a long while.

It’s nice. They deserve it.

#voltron #plance #pidge gunderson #katie holt #lance mcclain #plance fanfiction #voltron fanfiction #my writing #a little solace and peace

252 notes · View notes

this-book-has-been-loved · 7 years

Text

Singularity: Chapter 11

AU where instead of landing in the trash nebula, Pidge finds herself on the same planet as a certain Galra prison camp.

(Holt family reunion fic; no romantic relationships)

(Complete!)

Read it on Ao3

Read it on FFN

Chapter 11: Isometric

An epilogue of sorts Also a chapter told entirely in Matt’s POV cuz I love him

The liberation of Vallen was over before the castle even landed. And while Shiro and the princess—Allura, Katie said her name was?—spoke with the prisoners there, Matt and his father had been pressured into the infirmary. Katie had gone on about what she called a ‘healing pod’, insisting that they both needed to spend time in one. After weak protests, Katie had won, and the strange mustached man had helped each of them into a white bodysuit.

The last thing Matt saw before succumbing to the cold and to the sleep was Katie’s face, smiling happier than he’d seen her in ages. “I’ll be right here when you wake up,” she’d told them. “I promise.”

Then his eyes had closed.

Hours later, the cold air receded and he woke up as the pod opened.

The room was dark and still. Faint mechanical hums stood out in the quiet, and the only light came from the pale blue glow of the healing pods. Next to his own, his father rested peacefully.

He stumbled, disoriented, taking in the room around him.

Katie lay curled up on the floor. She wasn’t in her armor, instead wearing a baggy green-and-white shirt and a pair of gray cargo shorts. A laptop lay beside her, long since powered down, and one of her hands rested lightly on the keyboard.

Matt smiled, sitting down beside her. “Hey there, sis,” he murmured. He pushed the laptop away, closing it firmly. He took her hand in his, drinking in how peaceful she looked.

Safe. He reveled in the fact. We’re safe. She’s actually here.

“You’re awake.”

Matt looked up, glancing towards the doorway. A figure stood there—a teenage boy. He was wearing all black, and his dark hair hung loosely around his face. In his hands he carried a pillow and a large blanket.

Matt tried to remember his name, but he’d never seen any of the other paladins out of their armor. “Hi.”

“We weren’t expecting you to wake up yet,” the paladin (was this the red one?) continued, walking over. “Estimates said you still had a few more hours.” He knelt beside Katie, setting down the blanket. “She’ll be sorry she missed you.”

Matt relaxed, smiling. “I’ll still be here when she wakes up,” he murmured.

“She tends to do this a lot,” the paladin told him. “She’ll stay awake for as long as she can…and then she’ll just crash and fall asleep wherever she happens to be.” He gently lifted her head, slipping the pillow beneath. “We’ve all sorta gotten into the habit of finding wherever she’s passed out and then carrying her back to her room. But tonight…I thought she’d rather stay here with you.” He shook out the blanket, spreading out over Katie. He paused, glancing at Matt suddenly. “Do you, uh, do you want me to get you another blanket or something…?”

Matt laughed. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”

The paladin only nodded, seemly unsure of what to say next. “I, uh….”

“I’m sorry,” Matt said, shaking his head. “I don’t think we were properly introduced.” He held out his hand to the paladin. “I’m Matt. Matt Holt.”

“Keith Kogane,” he replied, shaking Matt’s hand.

Matt paused, furrowing his eyebrows. “Wait…Shiro’s little brother?”

Keith froze. “I…brother?”

“Yeah; you were at the Garrison, weren’t you?” Seeing Keith’s wide-eyed and flustered look, Matt nearly laughed. “Dude, he practically adopted you. So you may not be related by blood. Whatever. You’re still brothers.”

“No, no, I get that,” Keith hastened to assure him. “I just…didn’t realize he talked about me.”

Matt laughed. “Shiro and I were roommates, back at the Garrison,” he said with a smile. “He’s my best friend. Of course he told me about you.”

They settled into comfortable silence, sitting on either side of Katie, watching the stars go by through the window. Katie shifted in her sleep, burying herself deeper into her pillow, mumbling something about peanut butter and someone called Kaltenecker.

Matt chuckled, watching her fondly. “I’m glad she’s getting some rest.”

“Yeah, I think you can speak for all of us there,” Keith muttered. “She hasn’t really been sleeping well lately.”

Matt furrowed his brow. “Is…she okay?”

Keith exhaled, long and slow. “She’ll be fine,” he said eventually. “It’s just been rough, these past few weeks.” Matt was silent, and Keith took that as a signal to keep going. “She just wasn’t in the best place when we found her,” he continued. “She told us about what happened. We headed straight there…but you were already gone. After that, well, she was angry. At the Galra. At Zarkon. But mostly, I think, at herself.”

“Thank you for being there for her.”

Keith seemed a bit taken aback for a moment, but he quickly relaxed. “Of course. She…really means a lot to me.” He pulled his legs up against his chest, resting his chin on his knees. “I never really had much of a family back on Earth,” he confessed. “Team Voltron is about as close to family as I’ve got.”

Matt quirked a lopsided grin. “Well, any family of Katie’s is family of mine. So, in that case, welcome to the family.”

Keith let out a laugh, but he seemed a bit tense, uneasy about something.

Matt’s smile faded, and he looked at him curiously. “Can I ask you something?”

Keith looked at him askance. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Back on the ship, with Reggar,” Matt started, “Katie…she called you Galra.” Keith froze. “But you don’t look Galra,” Matt continued. “And you’re from Earth. Right?”

Keith sighed. “I don’t even know the full story, to be honest,” he said. “But to answer your question…yes. I’m part Galra. I don’t know how much, but….” He cast his gaze downwards. “I only found out recently. I’m still coming to terms with it myself.” He seemed to be bracing himself for the worst, closing his eyes, hugging himself. “If…if that makes you uncomfortable, I understand,” he whispered.

Matt’s eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. “No! No way.” Keith looked up at him in shock, and Matt cautiously reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Dude. You saved my life. You saved my baby sister’s life. I trust you.”

Keith melted. The look in his eyes was filled with such surprise, such compassion, such adoration. Then he smiled.

Well, Matt thought wryly. I guess I’ve got a brother now. But he found he didn’t mind the thought. Welcomed it, really.

Between them, Katie shifted again. “Would you nerds just cut it out already and go to sleep?”

Keith snorted, and Matt struggled to hold back his own laughter. “Sorry, Katie.” He glanced over at Keith. “You wanna just, like, crash here for the night?”

“In…the infirmary?”

Matt was already lying down, yawning. “Mm. Always liked slumber parties.”

Keith laughed. “I’ll go get some more blankets.”

The rest of the team had come to join them within the next few hours. Hunk had procured what tasted like the alien equivalent of hot chocolate, and Lance accused them of having a slumber party without them; but the two of them joined Matt, Keith, and Katie in their impromptu blanket fort, passing out mugs of the hot cocoa. Shiro had come into the infirmary not too much later, and, at the insistence of Matt and Katie, had sat down to join them. When Allura and Coran had entered, it was to the sight of their five paladins along with Matt all swaddled in blankets and contently drinking hot chocolate. “It’s a very important and common Earth ritual for unwinding after stressful events,” Katie told them, to which the rest of them dutifully nodded. And when Sam woke up, they had another blanket and steaming mug waiting for him.

Both Matt and his sister wrapped their arms around him, and the three of them embraced. “Hi, Dad,” Katie squeaked through her tears.

“Oh my little girl,” he whispered. “Katie, darling, I am so proud of you.”

As he pulled away from the hug, his eyes fell on Shiro, standing nearby with a soft smile. Shiro reached out to shake his hand. “It’s good to see you, Commander.”

Sam chuckled, completely forgoing the handshake to instead pull him into a hug. “How many times do I have to tell you this, Shiro? Please. Call me Sam.”

Shiro let out a laugh, reciprocating the hug. “Yes, sir.”

“Takashi.”

“Come on, I need to introduce you to everyone!” Katie bubbled, taking her father by the arm. “You met Lance and Keith earlier,” she said, gesturing to the group of boys, “and this is Hunk—”

“Doctor Holt, it is such an honor to finally meet you,” Hunk gushed, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “I’ve read all your books. Going Beyond Terrestrial Engineering is what inspired me to enroll at the Garrison.”

Sam laughed good-naturedly. “I’m glad to hear that!”

Katie’s eyes were comically wide, and she had both her hands pressed to her mouth, doing nothing to smother the massive smile on her face. “Hunk!!” she squealed. “You didn’t tell me you were a fan!!!”

Hunk’s flushed, his expression morphing into one of embarrassment. “I—”

“Dude,” Lance interjected. “I had a poster of Shiro on my wall. No one’s gonna judge you.”

Matt nearly choked on his drink. “You what?”

“Alright,” Shiro said firmly. “Enough of that.”

Sam laughed again. “It’s good to meet all of you,” he said. “Hunk, I would love to speak with you further on your studies.”

Hunk’s eyes were sparkling. “I—yes, wow, thank you!”

Sam turned towards the other two in the room, the Alteans, and he held out a hand to them. “And you must be Allura and Coran?”

Allura was wiping at her eyes, trying to compose herself. She clasped his hand firmly. “Welcome aboard the Castle of Lions,” she said. “We are all very happy to have you here with us.”

“Absolutely,” Coran agreed. “Number Five has told us a lot about you. And it’s always exciting meeting new humans!”

Out of nowhere, Katie’s eyes widened, and she gasped. “Oh my god, Matt, I almost forgot! I’ll be right back.” Without another word, she took off.

When she returned a couple minutes later, she was carefully cradling something in her hands. “Um, these are yours,” she told Matt, holding out her hands towards him. “I’ve been holding onto them for you.”

He glanced down, surprised. “My glasses?”

She nodded, almost sheepishly. “They were part of my disguise when I was sneaking into the Garrison,” she confessed, “and so I sorta brought them out here with me. For when we found you.”

He took the glasses almost reverently. “Katie, I—” His voice cracked. “Thank you.”

“Oh, hey,” Lance said suddenly. “That actually reminds me. Pidge?”

Katie turned towards him. “Yeah?”

“I know I’ve asked this before,” he began, “and you said Pidge was fine…but do you want us to start calling you Katie? Now that, you know, they’re here?”

She paused, then smiled. “I like being Pidge,” she told him. “I’ve gotten pretty used to it.”

Matt frowned, taking that it. He glanced at her curiously. “Do…do you want us to call you Pidge too?”

For a moment, she seemed taken aback. “I—I don’t know,” she fretted. “I mean. You can call me whatever? I guess? Either is fine. Katie’s fine. I mean, I haven’t been Katie in so long, it’s kinda nice, ya know? But I don’t want anyone to get confused or anything. And you don’t have to go out of your way to try to use a different name if you don’t really want to—”

Sam put a hand on her back, and she paused in her rambling. “Alright,” he said gently. “Katie. Pidge. You’re fine.”

She breathed deeply, relaxing into his touch. “Thanks, Dad.”

“While this has been a nice respite,” the princess said, “we really must get focused back on the main plan here.”

“The princess is right,” Shiro agreed. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Lance sighed. “Yes, sir, Space Dad.”

Matt frowned. “Right away?”

“That’s the life of a Voltron paladin,” his sister said with a shrug. “We do not get a break.”

“There is still some time before we reach our next position,” Coran said. “We need to get the castle to a point about equidistant from Olkarion, the Balmera, Beta Traz, the weblum…. It will take a bit for us to get there.”

Shiro furrowed his brow. “Can’t we do a wormhole jump?”

“Ah, we could,” Coran replied. “But it’d be best for Allura to save her energy. We’ll need that for later.”

“So what I’m getting here,” Hunk said slowly, “is that we do get a break?”

Allura sighed. “For a little while longer, I suppose. But please, be ready to go once the castle is in position.”

Lance was grinning, nearly bouncing up and down on his toes. “You got it, Allura! Alright, I wanna try to figure out that Altean pool. I’ll catch you guys later!” Before anyone could say anything, he took off.

“In the meantime,” Allura continued, glancing towards Matt and his father. “We should get the two of you a change of clothing. And would you like a tour of the castle?”

It was later when Matt went looking for his sister. He wandered the castle aimlessly, remembering what he could from the tour Allura had given them. Afterwards, she and Coran had headed to the bridge; the rest of the team had splintered off throughout the tour, mentioning other preparations they needed to do before they went on for their next mission.

When there was no answer at the door to Katie’s—Pidge’s—room, he frowned. This was correct, wasn’t it? He double-checked, seeing the telltale green light on the panel by the door, and nodded to himself. Yes, this was her room. So where was she?

He wandered a bit further down the hall, knocking on the next door he saw. A “Come in!” came from inside, and so Matt slid the door open. Lance turned to face him, pulling his shirt on. “Oh, hey, man.”

“Have you seen my sister?”

Lance frowned. “Did you try her room?”

“She wasn’t there.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Huh.” He left the room, coming to stand beside Matt in the hallway, clapping him on the shoulder. “Alright, she shouldn’t be too hard to find. Then again, knowing her, she could be asleep in a vent or something.”

He started wandering down the hall, and Matt paused, staring after him. “She what?”

“She falls asleep in the weirdest places,” Lance called, not even bothering to turn around. “If I find her, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”

Matt sighed. “Thanks.” He turned, heading in the other direction. After a while, he found himself back in another section of the castle he recognized. Wasn’t this near where he’d woken up? Yes, he was pretty sure that the cryo-pod chamber was that door at the end of the hall—

There were voices coming from one of the open doors ahead.

“We’ll need to take off your shirt so I can take care of this properly. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. I’ve got my binder on.”

He paused. Wasn’t that her voice? And…Keith? Matt poked his head through the doorway to check it out.

Pidge sat on what looked like an examination table from the doctor’s office. Her green-and-white shirt was lying beside her, leaving her in a strapless top of some kind––a chest binder, she’d said?

Keith was perched next to her, holding her arm in one hand and some kind of jar in the other. He was gently spreading a layer of salve over her left shoulder. “You shouldn’t have kept this to yourself.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “Barely feel it.”

Keith’s hand rubbed a bit closer to the red mark on her shoulder, and she flinched. He stilled, glancing at her and raising an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Shut up.”

He sighed, setting down the jar of healing salve and picking up a roll of bandages.

In the doorway, Matt stood watching in shock. “What happened?”

Pidge turned to him in surprise. “Matt!”

“Are you okay?!”

She let out a groan. “I’m fine!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that,” he muttered. He held up the bandages. “Now hold still.”

She kept her eyes downcast as Keith carefully wrapped the bandages around her shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet the frantic eyes of her brother.

“Katie,” he pleaded.

She broke.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she insisted quietly. “I don’t need a healing pod or anything. I had my armor on. And even then, it just grazed me.” She glared at her clenched hands. “Stupid Galra and their stupid laser guns.”

Matt sighed.

“Alright,” Keith announced as he finished. “We’ll need to replace the bandages periodically. Find me tomorrow morning and we can take care of that.”

She nodded, rotating her shoulder experimentally. “Thanks, Keith.”

He just smiled and ruffled her hair. “Next time, maybe tell someone when you get shot,” he admonished, standing up.

“Yeah, yeah, responsibility and stuff.”

He sighed, shaking his head. He clapped Matt on the shoulder on his way out. “Don’t let her over-exert herself,” he instructed Matt as he headed into the hall.

“I heard that!” Pidge called.

“Good.”

He wandered off, leaving Matt and his sister alone.

Pidge tugged her shirt back on sullenly, wincing a bit as she flexed her shoulder.

Matt was silent for a minute. When he finally spoke, he simply stated, “You got shot.”

She sighed. “I really am fine,” she assured him. “It’s nothing major.”

“Nothing major?” Matt repeated, flabbergasted. “It—you—,” he sputtered. “Katie!”

Pidge smiled wryly. “You know, that’s the same thing Lance said when I got back to the castle and he found out I’d fractured a rib.”

“KATIE!”

She winced. “Sorry. But that’s all taken care of. See? I’m all better now.”

“Except for the burn on your shoulder.”

She closed her eyes in defeat. “Yeah. ‘Cept for that.”

“Why didn’t you mention something earlier?” he asked, sitting down next to her.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Katie, I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“That’s just the thing!” she exclaimed. She paused, exhaling heavily. “When I left Serva, it was only a few hours before they all picked me up,” she murmured. “I managed to get a strong enough signal out and they found me pretty much right away. And after I told them all what happened….” She broke off. She pulled up her legs and hugged them to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. “By the time we got back to Serva, you were already gone,” she murmured. “And we didn’t know where you were, or how to find you. We didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “And it’s like everyone was trying to fill that hole. For days. They were just…always there. Asking if I was okay, if I needed anything, if I wanted company.” Her voice was rising in pitch, frantic. “And…on the one hand, it’s really nice. To know that they care about me like that. I mean, we’re a team, and we’re supposed to support each other. But it kinda goes deeper than that too.” She rested her forehead on her knees, burying her face. “But on the other hand…it’s suffocating.” She paused to take a breath, and sighed. “What I’m getting at here, is that I’m not fragile. I’m not gonna break. I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

“I mean, Shiro was always like an overprotective mom. But the rest of them? Since when does Keith have feelings?!”

Matt laughed, thinking back on his conversation with the Red Paladin the night before. “Yeah, well, that’s what it’s like when your family gets hurt. And you told me yourself: they’re like family.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I guess so.”

They fell into silence.

“So…,” Matt mused. “Shiro mentioned you have another mission coming up.”

“Yep.” She made a popping sound with the ‘p’. “Beta Traz.”

“What’s that exactly?”

“High security space prison. Built specifically to contain one prisoner. We need to break in there and get him out.”

He nudged her playfully. “Is that all you guys do? Prison breaks?”

She huffed. “Feels like it sometimes,” she told him. “Jailbreaks and liberating planets.”

He paused, thinking. She was fourteen. And already, she was facing things that no one should ever have to. She was a child soldier conscripted into an intergalactic war that had been raging for thousands of years.

“So you’re going into combat,” he said softly. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? I mean. With your injured shoulder?”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised him. “Lance and Shiro will be there.”

“Mm.”

That’s another thing—the rest of the paladins weren’t too much older than her. Shiro was really the only adult. How old were the other three? Seventeen?

Pidge was watching him curiously, and after a moment, she reached out to take him by the hands. “Hey, Matt? I know that the stuff I do can get scary,” she murmured. “It gets dangerous. I’ve…I’ve had a lot of close calls. But also, at the same time, this is the most incredible experience I’ve ever had.” She sighed. “I know you’re always gonna worry about me. Cuz we’re family. But just keep in mind,” she instructed, a smile starting to tug at the corner of her lips. “I’m gonna do some insane stuff and you’re probably gonna freak out. But just know that I’ve already done a whole lot of insane dangerous stuff; I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s really not making me feel any better.”

She laughed, and the tension started to ease.

“The thing is,” she added after a moment, her smile falling. “Things are gonna get real crazy, real fast. I mean, we’ve got Beta Traz to deal with now. But it’s only gonna get crazier after that.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We have…a very extensive plan. Beta Traz is only one step.”

“So what happens next?”

She took a deep breath, looking him in the eye. “We find Zarkon,” she said. “And we take him out.”

Many thanks to all my readers for coming along on this crazy adventure!!!

And a HUGE Thank You to my wonderful beta @kabber!!! Seifert, my dear, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Love you!! Thanks for putting up with me and my constant rambles.

13 notes · View notes

thewebofslime · 5 years

Link

Sarah Edmondson spent a dozen years as a top recruiter in NXIVM, an executive success and self-improvement program that was later revealed to be a sex-cult catering to the whims of its secretive leader Keith Raniere. Now Edmondson is baring all in Scarred, a gripping memoir that details her indoctrination into the cult, her psychological enslavement, and the terrifying naked ritual that left her permanently scarred with Raniere’s initials, and determined to bring him down. “We took turns holding each of the other members down on a table as NXIVM’s resident female doctor dragged a red-hot cauterizing pen across the sensitive area just below their bikini line. The women screamed in pain as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air,” she writes. The branding felt like a traumatic assault. Her NXIVM superior, and closest friend, Lauren Saltzman, had told her the ritual that would ensure her admission to a secret sorority called DOS — short for Dominus Obsequious Sororium, Latin for Lord of the Obedient Female Companions — involved getting only a small tattoo. Edmondson knew she had a decision to make: “slip away quietly or blow this whole thing up.” She chose to blow it up. “I was determined to fix what I’d started,” said Edmondson of the dramatic actions she took in 2018 to escape NXIVM, and go to the authorities. As sheets of rain pour down outside the window of her Olympic Village condo, Edmondson offers up her body as a testament to what she has been through. “Do you want to see it?” She slips down the corner of her pants to reveal the scars where Raniere’s initials were burned into her skin. The initials KR are clearly visible. Although the scars have faded, they will never go away. “I thought I was healed, but I’ve got PTSD,” said Edmondson as her husband Anthony Ames brings over their six-month-old baby Ace. Sarah Edmondson is a former member of the NXIVM cult who has now written a book about her time with the cult. Photo: Jason Payne/Postmedia JASON PAYNE / PNG Settling in to nurse her baby, Edmondson says she is willing to share all, and do whatever it takes “to clean up my mess.” Cleaning up the mess includes going public, making sure everyone she brought into the group is out, trying to help others and establishing a fund for other victims with part of the proceeds of her book. “I’m learning to trust myself again, slowly,” said Edmondson, who has been through therapy with cult therapists to understand the journey she has been on. Edmondson said she was the ideal target for NXIVM’s system of indoctrination. “The system included manipulation and brainwashing, where Keith implanted his own beliefs by appealing to my values, and telling me that when I felt resistance I had an issue I needed to overcome. If I had an issue, his Executive Success program would provide the answer.” Edmondson’s outgoing personality and natural enthusiasm helped her proceed up the “striped path,” by selling the program to others, and eventually founding a NXIVM centre in Vancouver. “I had a big network of people, I was very social, I was a good salesperson. They enveloped me, made me feel like family and part of the community,” said Edmondson. Edmondson credits her Vancouver community of friends and actors for helping her keep “a toe in reality,” during her years in NXIVM. Her inner voice flagged Raniere as “weird” from the first moment she met him, and although she had been trained to ignore it, a sliver of resistance and independence remained. In Scarred, Edmondson reveals that she handed over a nude selfie to Saltzman as part of the “collateral” Raniere demanded to prove loyalty prior to her DOS branding. But when she learned that other women had been manipulated into handing over nudes, and that she was expected to recruit “slaves,” alarm bells went off. “I went into mama-bear mode. I wanted to protect others.” By November 2017, Edmondson was out of NXIVM, and had contacted the FBI. Her complaint triggered an investigation and culminated in the arrest of Raniere, actress Allison Mack, Seagram’s heiress Claire Bronfman, and other acolytes. Edmondson chose not to attend the trial, working instead to heal her marriage with Ames, an actor and former NXIVM member. Becoming pregnant with her second child felt like the promise of a new life. “The birth was an incredibly empowering, amazing experience,” says Edmondson, her eyes filling with tears. Raniere was found guilty on counts of racketeering, wire fraud, forced labour, sex trafficking, sex trafficking conspiracy and attempted sex trafficking and is slated to be sentenced on Sept. 25. His lawyers have said they will appeal the verdict. Edmondson doesn’t yet feel completely free. “Even though I’m healing, and have a beautiful new child and I’m focusing on family I still have fear. What if he appeals? What if he gets off? He could ruin my life.” It’s a risk she’s willing to take. “I feel so much responsibility, and I want to do everything I can to help others recover.”

#TheWebOfSlime

0 notes

torentialtribute · 5 years

Text

Sky Bet EFL Q&A: Michael Rose hoping to help Macclesfield complete great escape

Forget about rebelling without a cause, Michael Rose is a rebel with one.

The 36-year-old midfielder eats sausages, chips and gravy on a Friday night for home games and refuses to go to the gym, but does not doubt his passion and dedication to help Macclesfield Town maintain the Sky Bet

If Macclesfield wins this weekend in Port Vale, while Yeovil and Notts County failed to match them, the club failed to win one of the first 13 games of the season.

Michael Rose eats sausage, chips, and gravy on a home evening Friday night

and gravy on a home evening Friday night "

Michael Rose eat sausage, chips and gravy on a Friday night for home games

The first victory came on October 20, a 2-1 victory over Carlisle.

In Rose they had a player with many experience i n degradation, and they had to do the same with Morecambe on

They also brought in Sol Campbell, an appointment that was considered eleven brave and full of danger due to his absence of management experience.

Rose is central to the Macc revival and Campbell & # 39; s plans to make a passing game, no matter how dangerous the circumstances are.

It seems appropriate that Rose should be the subject of this week's Sky Bet EFL Q&A.

With 679 performances from the first team for 12 clubs, including Chester, Hereford, Yeovil, Scunthorpe, Stockport, Swindon, Colchester, Rochdale and Morecambe, the converted left back made a detour from Manchester to Macclesfield,

He received a football lesson from Trevor Sinclair, would like Roy Keane to pick up for him and remember that he was physically ill on the field during a 6-1 home defeat when

Hardworking.

Hardworking. Leader. Composed.

Describe yourself of the field in 3 words. Family man. Winning the League One final play-off at Wembley for Stockport.

That was against Rochdale (3-2 in May 2008).

I had been with old Wembley to watch a game, but never played clearly. But playing on the new Wembley was just something else.

As a team, we played very well. We were sure to go into it. We went 1-0 lower, but I always had a feeling and I think the rest would win the game anyway.

It was not like Rochdale was at the top. We went up 3-1 and Rochdale scored 3-2, but even then they didn't really have any problems or problems afterwards, so it was still a fairly comfortable win.

It was the whole day, the build-up, the going to the floor, the changing rooms and then playing in a bigger game than I had ever done before.

Seeing where Stockport the divisions then descends was like from one end of the scale to the other.

There was a lot that happened behind the scenes that you never get to know the full story, but they are now doing well and hopefully they are finishing it and being promoted (from National League North to National Competition)

I am still looking forward to their results, which I do for most of my old clubs.

The 36-year-old is central to the Macclesfield revival under Sol Campbell in League Two. A year old was central to the Macclesfield revival under Sol Campbell in League Two "

The 36-year-old was central to the Macclesfield revolution under Sol Campbell in League Two

Who is the most difficult opponent I was loaned to Scunthorpe from Yeovil, I entered in January and my second game was Man City in the FA Cup (a 3-1 defeat in January 2006). That was a nice intro, Trevor Sinclair played on the right side in the first half, which was interesting.

I knew we were going to be in a difficult game, but I don't think I would ever meet anyone before. He was strong and fast. You would think he would go there, but he would have to go another way.

It was difficult.

I played against Bolton for a year previously in the League Cup, I was 23. I was in my second year in Ye ovil and had just gone on loan to Scunthorpe, but I was not a cup …

My first year in Colchester was that I am not sure what to do, but I do not know what to do. embarrassing because I was horrible. I was just relegated when I was in Swindon and moved to Colchester.

We won our first game at Preston with 4-2 and I think: & # 39; Yes, this is great. , we are going very well this year. & # 39;

Then we played Wycombe in the League Cup on Tuesday-evening. It went to a penalty shootout (3-3 after an extension in August 2011) and I missed. Then the next league match was the home of Wycombe and I gave away a penalty.

The start of that season just went up and down. I did well, then I gave the ball away and scored the other team.

I lost my place, got my place back and then we played Stevenage at home and I was sick on the field in the second half due to illness.

It was a season that I could just write off and especially the start of it was just embarrassing.

I played the first half of the following season, did well and then left in January, but ironically I probably scored the best goal of my career while I was at the club, a 35-yard volley from a corner against Portsmouth

What song do you get in the mood for a match?

The boys put the music on in the dressing room, but I don't really listen to music for a game. It's just in the background.

I don't really listen to it in the car that goes to the ground, not even because I will have my missus in the car with me and the baby will be asleep in the back.

There is no real trigger to make up for a game. When I was younger, I was worried about playing well and I think it would affect me in some games. I thought I didn't play well, I didn't play the next week, that I had to play well.

I always thought too much about things, but now at my age, I just enjoy going outside and playing. It's not that I'm more worried because I know I'm 36 and I'm coming to the end of my career – although I'm not ready to finish. I am happy at home, I have a nice family and I just enjoy playing.

What is your guilty food pleasure? sweet really. Everything I shouldn't eat.

I always ate the pasta, ate all the good stuff, I have a Friday night ritual when we have a home game that I go to the chippy and have sausage, chips and gravy. & # 39; I need this, I need that for tomorrow. & # 39;

But one game when I was in Rochdale, I didn't play. Manager Keith Hill had done the team form on Friday and I didn't play.

I was alone in a flat. I thought, "I mean, I'm going to the chippy, I can't let it cook, I don't play tomorrow, so that doesn't matter."

I went and had sausages, chips and gravy. I came to the ground the next day and discovered that I was playing. I played very well and thought: & # 39; Well that's it. From now on I'm going to the chippy Friday … & # 39;

That has been going on for about four years now.

Which player in history would you like to play alongside? What would you like to play alongside? – And why?

Roy Keane. I played the left back for most of my career, but I now see myself as a midfielder.

I went to Rochdale as a leftover man, had a nightmare in one game, got booked and Keith Hill took me away after about 30 minutes and said: & # 39; I can't get my full back when booking have. & # 39; I said: & # 39; Great. & # 39;

On Monday we went back to the training. He went to my office and said: & # 39; You'll never play left for me again. & # 39; I thought I was out the door, but then he said, "But you're playing in the middle of Saturday in the middle, so get ready."

That was it then. From that day on, I played midfield midfield. He didn't tell me how to play in midfield, he just told me to go on.

I did well, we were promoted, then I left and went to Morecambe and had two years there as a midfielder and now here at Macclesfield as a midfielder center. I enjoy it. I wish I would have entered midfield earlier.

I now feel fitter than I felt as a person left behind. You are more involved. Everything goes through you.

I started with Man United, but I was only on a YT and never got involved with the first team, but you can clearly see that the first team players like Roy Keane are walking through the building. Watching him was just ridiculous.

He could take over what I do now, all the tackling, all the nonsense things, then just give me the ball and I could pass from it all instead of being crushed everywhere at my age like I am now.

I go and win the ball back, give it to the children, then they run away and try to do something with it. I need someone there to go and that for me.

Rose is well aware of degradation, and has done the same with Morecambe

Rose is well versed in relegation, tiring acts have done the same with Morecambe last year

It must be Pep (Guardiola). Just because of the way he lets Man City play, fit, fit, fit, everyone moves around. It's just a pleasure to watch and it must be the same to play for him. They should work so hard on it that they are so comfortable with how they do it.

We have Sol Campbell here. He has been really good since he came. We have to do what he says, but he has his own ideas about how he wants us to play and he has not deviated from it. He has an idea of how he wants us to play what we are working on.

He prefers to play the right way than he does, he wants to play football, but I am sure that during his career with Tottenham and Arsenal I had the right training facilities with perfect training places, the gym, the swimming pool and everything else.

When we come to a place like Macclesfield, the reality is that we don't have things like that. Some days we have to train in different places because the water is overflowing or the field is not good enough.

And I'm sure he doesn't have a big plush office like Arsene Wenger had.

We may be gone again to get rid of it, but the start we had – no one can win 13, 14 games without winning and expect to do well. If we go this weekend, we are safe.

I survived on the last day of last season with Morecambe and I didn't really want to be like that again. It is not easy for me.

I don't know. I went from Manchester United to Chester City, who were in the conference. That was literally at the last minute and I had nothing else, I had to work hard to stay in the game.

My brother Stephen was a year older than me and I went to Bristol Rovers after United released him. I was in United for another year.

Then he left Bristol Rovers, came back home, and we both signed to Chester.

So I would probably have done something like that, building or plumbing.

Tell us a secret that fans won't know …

I never go to the gym. Ever. All the boys think I am home from trouble, but I don't. I hate the gym. It is meaningless. Meaningless.

It's clear that clubs have structures to go to in the gym and all your gym work, but I've always pulled the fitness coach and just said, & # 39; Look, that's not for me I will look like I am doing something but not doing it. & # 39;

I got away with it for a number of years. And I'm not starting now.

As I said before, I now feel fitter than when I was 22 or 23. Maybe that was because I ate the right things and had pasta, but now I don't worry about what I eat and run around as a 21-year-old.

I would definitely not be a sports scientist if I were not a football player.

I think that warm-ups and diet plans are a myth propagated by sports scientists. Or if that was me, there would be sausage and chips every Friday night.

Sky Bet are the proud title sponsors of the EFL. Visit for a wide range of markets and price increases on EFL competitions

Source link

#Sky Bet EFL Q&A: Michael Rose hoping to help Macclesfield complete great escape"

0 notes