Plance One-shots

The Queen of Wishful Thinking

"What?!"

Pidge stared back at him, dumbfounded. Her lips dried instantly as she tried to speak. "I- urm.. You see- Hunk..."

Both an overwhelming rush of emotions and intoxication fell over her, sending Pidge's lungs and stomach into overdrive. Tears hazed her vision, threatening to dusk her cheeks as she got to her feet.

"Pidge, I-" Hunk started apologetically. Before he could finish, the woman fled from the table, hand pressed over her mouth. Behind her she left the four men, each one as equally bemused as the next.

Hunk ran his fingers through his hair, evidently agitated as his gazed remained fixed on the back door.

"Should I go after her or-?" He asked, looking sorrowfully for any kind of help from the others. Keith and Shiro spared a glance at one another, before they collectively peered across at the Cuban man. Lance still had his beer firmly in his grasp, staring off in the direction Pidge disappeared. An odd silence fell upon them for a second, only to be interrupted by Hunk's panicked tone.

"I should really go see if she's-"

"No, no. I'll go." Lance said firmly, finally sitting upright to look at his friends. "We've obviously got something to talk about..." He got to his feet, padding towards the back door. Hunk groaned audibly, hands on hips.

"But I need to apologise," he started, turning to follow Lance. Shiro held out an arm, blocking his path as gently as he could.

"You can do that later, Hunk. For now, we should just leave them to sort it out. Okay?"

There was a sigh, followed by Hunk taking his seat once more.

"Yeah... I guess you're right."

____________

The back door swung open with ease, revealing Pidge sitting on the porch, knees pulled up to her chest as she stared into the dimmed fire pit.

"There you are." Lance remarked, taking a seat by her side. His attempt at conversation was met by an uncomfortable silence. Lance shuffled in his spot, eyes wandering around the beach before them as his brain tried to piece a sentence together. Once he had decided on his next word, Lance turned his head to look down at the woman. Pidge continued to stare at the fire, her arms crossed tightly on her chest to try and mask the fact her torso was shivering.

"Here," Lance said as he pulled his jumper over his head, offering it across to Pidge. She was hesitant at first, then outstretching her hand and taking it from him. Lance watched intently as the she adorned his old jumper, heat prickling his cheeks through the cold air.

"Why are your sleeves so long?" Pidge chortled, eyeing the long arms that surpassed her hands by quite some length. Lance blew a laugh through his nose, helping her to role up the material.

"Because I'm not ridiculously short."

Pidge almost laughed at his comment, hiding her weak smile behind her hand. The man chewed on the inside of his lip, his mind grasping at any form of words that would make a coherent sentence.

"It's a nice night isn-"

"Lance, your small talk is awful. Can't we just acknowledge the elephant in the room?"

"Not possible."

"Why?" Pidge scrunched up her nose, her brows creasing along with it. Lance kept a deadpan expression plastered on his face.

"We're outside."

"You're an idiot." Pidge sighed, resting her head in her hands. Lance shook his head, pointing a finger in her general direction.