The Rules Of Robotics (And Love)

Chapter 6

Pidge's eyes widen, and she grins wide. Then, all of a sudden, she throws her arms around Lance, pulling him in for a hug. 

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice sounding vaguely like crying. 

For a moment, he freezes, and Pidge wants to let go, but then he places his arms around her and squeezes tight too,

"You're welcome."

Pidge closes her eyes, reveling in the comfort of Lance's embrace. 

~~~

"Hey, Lance?" Pidge says, calling him from the room phone. "Are you done packing yet?"

Lance, frantically trying to search for clothes that actually looked decent and didn't have some hipster slogan or cuss word on them.

"Uh-yeah, totally!" Lance exclaims, pulling out a flannel with triumph, hand clutching flannel and resting in the air for a while. 

"I forgot to tell you to pack rebel kid clothes in case mom or any random family member pisses me off too much," Pidge says. "And hey, don't worry, it's only two days."

Lance can feel the beads of sweat rolling down his face. How the hell was he supposed to stand 'dating' Pidge for two whole days without growing even crazier than he currently was?!

"Mhhmm, yep," he responds, keeping his voice as level as possible

"When you're finished, and it should be soon, considering you've been packing two hours for a two day trip," Lance doesn't miss the jokingly suspicious tone in Pidge's words, "come back over to mine. I've got something to show you."

Lance can pretty much see Pidge, building an image based on what he could hear.

"Roger that, sir."

Needless to say, Lance finishes packing in five minutes, throwing in a baby blue button down, a pair of non-ripped jeans he didn't know he owned and a shirt with FUCK printed largely in red. 

~~~

"Pidgeon, your knight is shining armour has answered your call!" Lance sings, returning to the conditionally-familiar door of Pidge's room. He hears messing about, noise.

"The door's open, Lance!" 

Lance walks in, startled and bemused at the great change from what it had been just a few hours ago. (not like Lance could say anything, considering the current state of his room). Books, clothes, shoes, were all strewn messily on the floor of the room.

Pidge turns, facing him as her hands continue scrabbling through a box of material under her desk.

"And hey, don't worry, it's only two days," Lance mimes, making air commas. "What's with all the robotics junk?"

"Mom called me and said Matt was coming, so it's my opportunity to have some quality brother-sister robotics time," Pidge says, eyes alight and sparkling. Her hands eagerly clutch the same manual she'd been reading earlier. "Maybe he can give some pointers for Voltron, considering he's in a club in his college."

Lance nods his head, making an approving face.

"So is that what you called me over here for?" he asks. She shakes her head, expertly tossing the manual into her duffel bag.

"No, I need your opinion on something," she corrects. She stands up, going to the closet and rummaging some more. After a little while, she goes, "What rebellious shit did you pack?"

"Well," Lance starts off proudly, "I have overly-ripped jeans, multiple cuss-word shirts that would make Iverson faint, and I packed some eyeliner. Just in case."