VOLTRON ONE-SHOTS

Lance - Scream

Word Count: 4,221

If Lance could say anything about his current predicament, he'd gladly go with the hard fact that he Hated decorating, and that's hated with a capital 'H'. He'd much rather be the one enjoying the decorations than being the one who suffers the headache of putting everything up in the first place only for the stuff to be torn down the second everyone leaves, all of that hard work just- just thrown in the trash like his hours of hard work meant nothing.

But.

If there was anything he hated more than decorating, it was decorating for a Halloween party. There were just so many decorations, it was almost as bad as helping his family decorate the house for Christmas (minus the tree, he always loved decorating the tree), if there was such a thing as Christmas parties that didn't involve dressing up in ugly sweaters in involved minimal decorating, he'd probably help decorate.

Probably, but not likely.

But Halloween? There were soooooo many decorations involved with Halloween, it was ridiculous.

Over the top.

Crazy.

And here's the best part: he wasn't even allowed to go.

What kind of torturous witchcraft was that?

A very crappy and agonizing one, that's for sure, Lance was almost positive if it hadn't been for the fact that he was helping decorate for his older sister's birthday/Halloween party, he wouldn't have even bothered with helping in the first place.

He'd much rather sit in his room, headphones in, tuning out the world while he tried out his new face cream before, most likely, putting it into his daily routine.

You know, important stuff like that

He'd much rather attend the parties he was actually allowed to go to, thank you very much, where he didn't have to decorate the crap out of the house before everyone got there.

Anything but this suffering.

He was only biding his time until Hunk got here to pick him up, he'd made arrangements the day before to go to a nearby haunted house along with Pidge and Keith. And then, if they weren't completely scared out of their wits, go over to Pidge's house until the party was over.

Which- from the looks of it, wouldn't be over anytime soon.

He was in for a very long wait.

As for what he was currently being forced to endure?

The dreaded job of trying to dig as far as he could into the storage closet (aka, the horror closet). There were probably bugs unknown to man hidden inside, and with his thin body currently shoved as far as he could go between two towers of boxes (he was not about to tear all of that down just to put it back again), he was left to blindly feeling for whatever he could manage to grasp and pull to the other side without tearing the whole closet apart.

It wasn't going very well so far.

Lance's fingers jerked as skin brushed against something clearly fabric, probably stuffed-

His thoughts came to a stop as he ran his hand across the thing, having a mild idea of what it might be before he gave an experimental tug-

Oh, and it was definitely heavy.

Crap.

He tried bracing his feet on the floor, before leaning back with all his might and pulled-