131Chapter Twenty-Eight: Logistics
"You knew I was telling you the truth?" Lance repeated, mostly to process, lifting the very top layer from this deeply tangled mess that had become his sort-of relationship with Allura. A relationship that was somehow more complicated now that they knew they had a mutual friend. The friend that Lance was already missing. That he hadn't wanted to leave. He understood that Keith wanted to give them some privacy, but what Lance thought this conversation needed most was a referee. Or at least someone who could back him up. He had never been good at talking to Allura.
"Yes?" Allura didn't seem sure of her answer. She stared at her coffee, held tight to the mangled napkin. "Certainly by the end of the call, when you hung up. Your voice had changed. You'd never spoken to me that way before."
"You could have sent me your email address," Lance prompted, trying to keep any hardness out of his voice. If he wanted answers, he couldn't shut her down before he got them. But his hanging up on her was a weak excuse. She had his number; she could have contacted him at any time. "I had the write-up for your report ready to send you," he added to soften what he'd just said.
"I couldn't do that," Allura explained, apparently mortified by the thought. "I'd just treated you abysmally. I called you a liar for needing to help your friend . . . to help Keith. I most definitely couldn't ask for your help, for a favor, after that."
Obviously, she hadn't understood what he'd been trying to say. The way she said the word favor reminded Lance of last night. She'd said it just now the way he'd said it to her then, and he wished he'd been gentler with her. He'd let his hurt get the better of him, allowed it to make him bitter towards her. Perhaps it was partly his fault that she had been avoiding him. He hadn't been all that kind to her before hanging up on her either. Still.
"Can I ask what happened?" Lance ventured, hoping Allura would know what he meant with that question. Because really? Where had they gone wrong? If she was sorry, why hadn't she felt safe enough with him to even say so? When had he given her the impression that he would ever hurt her? All he'd ever done was make sure that wouldn't happen, even afterwards, even last night. So little trust for all that effort. "How did we end up like this? I know we weren't exactly friends, but I thought that we could be."
Allura had turned shy now, her hands clenched in her lap, eyes sinking further from the table to the floor. She didn't look capable of answering him. He wasn't sure she'd understood the question again. Maybe they couldn't effectively communicate after all. Or maybe Lance needed to strip any kind of hint of suggestion from what he said. Hunk had told him that, hadn't he? If he wanted to get anywhere, he was going to have to actually talk. Just like with Keith, if he wanted her to trust him, he was going to have to trust her first.
"I was looking forward to it," Lance disclosed rather bluntly but not harshly, trying to show her by example what sort of information he wanted, astonished at the ease of the confession, how quickly it unstuck from his throat. "My roommates had been pushing me to ask you out for months, so it was a huge deal." This was the first time he'd ever felt so completely in control while talking with Allura. The first time he'd allowed himself to tell her things without worrying about how she'd take them, what she'd think of him exposing his feelings. And while he didn't like how unsettled she seemed to be, he was enjoying the freedom he had right now to say what he'd always wanted to say. "It was supposed to be a breakthrough where you could finally see me outside of work. I was so excited to talk with you where we wouldn't be interrupted by a machine. Where I wouldn't be in scrubs." He paused, looking down at himself and sighing, remembering Keith teasing him earlier. "Though apparently I'm always in scrubs," he said, wilting slightly. The comment curved the corner of Allura's lip, the tiniest of sorrowful smiles.
"I planned my outfit for an hour," Allura said in surrender, still unable to look at him, but the ghost of a smile had strengthened, as though talking were getting easier for her as well. "Something I'd never wear to donate plasma. Something I'd never wear to study either." Lance thought it best to keep silent, to not stare at her right now, even though he wanted to. He wanted to see every nuance of her expression for these words, as though he needed visual confirmation of the truth of it. She'd been excited to meet with him? Had she also seen it as something more than a study date?
"Romelle did my makeup," Allura continued, laughing in a soft embarrassed way. A little frightened that she was really telling him these details, laying herself open and vulnerable for Lance to tear her to pieces. Maybe she did have trust in him after all. "I had her do this fancy braid in my hair. I told my parents I'd be staying the night with her on campus because I wasn't sure what might happen." She stopped herself, rearranging her last statement. "Because I hoped that we might. . . well anyway. They didn't even want me to go to class that day, my parents. They were worried about the drive and the storm. Remember it was a blizzard last Friday?"
"Yes," Lance vocalized, knowing he'd likely never forget that night, the lightning on the lake, the thunder crashing into the base of his spine, Keith's secrets just beginning to bleed into his life. A week ago. That was only a week ago.
"They didn't want me driving in it. I almost had to beg, and in the end, they only let me go because they knew I was not going to even try coming back in it after dark. I only had one class that morning that didn't cancel, so I spent the rest of the day at Romelle's apartment, nervous and excited and watching the clock. The hours were just dragging interminably. And then you called."
"And ruined everything," Lance lamented, though he didn't actually regret his decision, just how he'd gone about telling her, how she'd taken it. Nervous? When was she ever nervous? He made her nervous? Lance looked at her, her posture, her hands. She was nervous right now. He hadn't expected that. Maybe all this time she'd used her silence and her book to hide that. Huh. She'd done a spectacular job. He'd never seen a hint of anything other than poised sophistication from her.
"I'm the one who ruined everything," Allura corrected.
Lance continued to monitor her, noticing that her long hair had fallen over her shoulders, obscuring her face. Feeling irrationally brave, he leaned closer to her, pushing the hair back. It was every bit as soft as he'd always daydreamed it would be. Allura didn't move, which Lance couldn't tell was a good or bad sign. He actually wasn't sure about any of this. What he wanted from her. Where he wanted this conversation to go. He remembered something else that Hunk had said. Nothing's ruined. At least not forever.
"I was so disappointed," Allura continued. "But that's no excuse for what I said, how I behaved. I think I stood in Romelle's room with the phone in my hand for twenty minutes after you hung up. I thought of calling you back immediately."
"Why didn't you?" Lance probed when she didn't follow through on that, and as he asked, she raised her eyes to his at last. Her shiny, pale-blue, crystalline eyes.
"Romelle asked me the same thing. I've asked myself the same thing, and the answer changes every time so it must not be real. Romelle told me all weekend to just get over myself and call you, like I couldn't do it because I couldn't admit to being wrong. And I . . . didn't want that to be the reason, didn't want to think of myself as that petty and prideful, but the longer I waited . . . the more impossible it became until it was Wednesday and I just . . . I'm really not who you thought I was, am I?"
Lance sighed, ignoring the open invitation to insult her. This was way more than he'd expected. He glanced toward the door, where Keith had gone, and decided that going back over the details, dragging this out of Allura, wasn't something he wanted to do to her. They couldn't change what had happened between them.
"If you're not, that's more my fault than yours," Lance mused, thinking of Keith again. Or still. He'd made assumptions about Keith that weren't correct and it had hindered their relationship at the beginning, before he set aside what he thought he knew and actually started learning who Keith was. He'd done the same to Allura, granted in a more positive light, but the outcome had still been damaging. "But you know. There is a solution."
Allura tilted her head to the side, intent, humble, coming to terms with her own arrogance and how it had almost taken something from her. Lance found himself smiling at her, remembering a time, such a short time ago, when he would have given anything to be with this girl. He offered her his hand, a traditional American greeting.
"The name's Lance," he said, as though they were truly just meeting here for the first time. In a way, they were. There was nothing substantial from any of their previous awkwardness, nothing to be learned in a stolen glance.
"Allura," she responded, her slim hand taking his steadily, the first time they'd touched without the barrier of gloves.
"Nice to meet you," Lance expressed, watching as Allura's shoulders rose and fell, as though a weight had been lifted from her.
Their conversation moved forward from there. Allura asked Lance questions about Dr. Farmer, about his childhood growing up outside the US, about his major and his schedule and his plans for the future. He asked her much of the same things, a verbal back and forth, getting all the requisite preliminaries out of the way, setting the foundation of getting to know someone. Allura was in political science. Her father was the CEO of a manufacturing company; her mother taught dance to children as a hobby and was involved in several charity organizations. Allura had no siblings compared to Lance's four. She'd been accepted at Columbia, but decided not to go that far from home for college.
Lance noticed as they spoke that Allura wasn't nearly as confident as she had always appeared. Her aloofness was part of her protection. If no one knew her, really knew her, then she could maintain that she was nearly perfect. There were hints that she'd been brought up with the expectation that she should be. Their misunderstanding made more sense to Lance, knowing this. She'd shown him something about herself that she never shared with anyone, a side she wouldn't want others to know, and she'd done it without meaning to. Channeling her disappointment about their missed date into an accusation of his character was something she regretted but somehow couldn't take responsibility for. She found it easier to pretend it hadn't happened, that she hadn't messed up, which meant not seeing Lance anymore, not having him remind her of how she'd behaved. A lie to herself that he'd forced her to accept by working Wednesday and Thursday nights, by following Keith into this coffee shop.
Though it was obviously good for her, apologizing, acknowledging that she'd gone about things the wrong way. She no longer held tight to the destroyed napkin. In fact, she laughed as she scattered the shreds of it across the table, feeling better, like she could be herself. That she no longer had to maintain any pretense around him anymore. They talked easily, without expectation or worry about how they were coming across. It was actually better than how Lance had pictured their first date would go. He found himself remembering all the things he had once admired about Allura – things that were still there to be admired.
"Lance, can I ask you something?" Allura asked after a while, once they'd run out of trivial bits of data. They'd been asking each other questions for a long time now, but this one felt different. She'd gone shy again.
"Sure," he invited, open, actually grateful to Keith for forcing them into this. It felt so much better to have all the inhibitions regarding Allura broken. It was such a relief to look at her and just see a girl. A beautiful girl, but still, a real, breathing, mistake-making human. He liked her better this way.
"It's . . . well, it's about Keith."
"Ah," Lance said neutrally, taking a deep breath as something in his chest tightened again. He hadn't forgotten about Keith, not for a second, but somehow he wanted to keep Keith and Allura separate in his head. "Ok," he said anyway. There's no reason you can't talk to Allura about Keith. You're not dating either one of them. You'll probably never date either one of them. This is not a big deal.
"I wouldn't normally pry like this," Allura prefaced, watching Lance for signs of disapproval. "But he said that you're his best friend and so I wondered . . . has he brought up Romelle to you recently?" The question came so hesitant, as though Allura thought it rude to ask, but also that she didn't truly want the answer. Lance also knew that the answer wasn't for her – she was asking for Romelle.
"He told me what happened," Lance admitted, knowing that was far from the answer that either of the girls wanted. "Nothing more than that."
"Oh," Allura sighed, disappointed. Lance knew why. He'd seen Romelle's face as she looked at Keith, saw how quickly she'd gone to him, how close she tried to get.
"He was really sick," Lance heard himself explaining, wondering what he was doing. Why was he giving her this? Why encourage them? "On top of everything else that's been going on." Stuff they hadn't even talked about. The hospital, the trial, getting adopted.
"I'm sure," Allura granted, nodding to herself. "I'd just hoped. It's been so hard for her, you know?"
"No?" Lance said, dubious about this. Hard for her? What had been hard for her? Did Allura even know what hard was? "In what way?" He didn't mean to sound confrontational, but he didn't know if he succeeded. Keith had saved her. Keith had ruined his life for her. What sort of difficulties could she possibly have?
"I've known Romelle my whole life. We grew up together," Allura told him. "All of us. David, Romelle, and me. She lived in the house next to mine, and we were always going back and forth. She had a TV in her room, but I had a swimming pool in my backyard. But after what happened with David, she hardly ever left her house. She didn't come to class anymore; her family started homeschooling her instead. And as soon as she was accepted here, she moved out, came to campus where no one knew her."
"Why?" Lance asked, intrigued. Allura gave him a sad, indulgent smile. Lance had seen this expression on Pidge before. It meant he was being stupid, but he couldn't help it because he was a boy.
"It was so terrible," Allura went on. "The Hunts blamed everything on Romelle, of course. She and David had dated for two years before she finally realized that she didn't have to let him control every piece of her life. He told her what she could and couldn't wear, what she was allowed to eat, how much make up she could put on and what parties she could attend. Everyone always told her how lucky she was to be his girlfriend, like it was something special. That's probably why she put up with it for so long, thinking that there was something wrong with her that she wasn't happy. When she broke up with him, it was bad. David made up all sorts of stories about her. Said she was bipolar. That she . . .," Allura paused, readjusting her thoughts, changing her mind about repeating any of the lies David might have said about her friend. "None of it was true, but the way he told it, it was like he was some sort of saint, that he was trying to protect her from herself, giving her something she didn't even want. He refused to leave her alone, which is, as you know, how Keith got involved."
Lance kept quiet, sensing there was more to be said. Allura gauged him, watching him for something. To see if he believed her? To see if he understood the injustice here? Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find it. Allura continued explaining how David had ruined more than one life.
"Then after David came back from the hospital, after Keith was sentenced, everything got so much worse. No one would even listen to the truth. Somehow the story got out that Romelle was cheating on David with Keith, who no one even knew. Another version said that she'd been selling herself to him for drugs. The girls we went to school with started calling her the most horrible names, shunning her, stealing from her. They blamed her for David getting hurt. And Mr. and Mrs. Hunt didn't help at all. If anything, they encouraged the behavior. They started poisoning the whole neighborhood against Romelle, repeating the lies that were circulating at school. The families we'd known all our lives wouldn't even let her babysit their children anymore. In the end, I think I was the only friend she had left. Sometimes she'd ask me what had really happened, as though she'd heard the lie so many times that she'd forgotten the truth."
Lance exhaled hard; he'd never even thought about this. Probably because it was so wrong. And yet, knowing what he did about the Hunts, he wouldn't put it past them to be so unkind.
"That's terrible," he acknowledged, feeling sorry for Romelle for the first time since he'd found out about her. He wondered if Allura had decided not to go to Columbia, not because she hadn't wanted to go that far from home, but that she felt that she couldn't leave Romelle to face these challenges alone.
"It was getting better once she moved to campus, away from everyone," Allura said, trying to brighten her tone. "She's made some new friends here, good ones. Real ones. She was starting to move past it, even starting to let go of Keith a little bit. But then we were called in last week for Keith's trial, and it brought everything back to her. Like no time had passed at all. The poor thing. The Hunts' lawyer was so cruel to her, too. He wanted every single second of that night replayed in graphic detail. He wanted it from both of us, really, but it was much harder for her. He kept trying to get her to admit that it had been her fault somehow, as if that were even possible. I think the only way she got through it at all was because Keith was with her again, looking directly at her, never took his eyes off her the whole time, as though he was holding her together from where he was sitting."
Oh. So Lance wasn't the only person who Keith stared at that way. He knew that shouldn't hurt his feelings, but it still did. He thought of Romelle grabbing on to Keith when she'd seen him, the relief in her face, the contentment as he leaned his head over hers, how he'd held her. The familiar gesture of him pulling her from the table, handing over her bag.
"She's in love with him," Lance said.
"Of course, how could she not be?" Allura questioned, and Lance tragically agreed. How could you help but fall in love with the person who came out of nowhere and saved you? "She's been completely dedicated to him from that night he helped her. He's her hero, truly. She wrote him letters while he was in the facility, called him every day to check on him. She even went to visit him a few times. I was worried about it at the beginning. I mean, the first time I'd ever seen this boy he was . . you know . . . and Romelle had already been through one abusive relationship. But Keith has always been very gentle and sweet to her. Polite and kind. He told her over and over that it wasn't her fault, that he didn't blame her, and that he would do it again the same way. Well, you heard him. She told me they used to talk for hours. I thought for sure they'd get together once he was released, but she lost touch with him after that. It's like he vanished completely."
Lance glossed over this, knowing that part of the story already. The lost years of Keith Kogane when he was never where he was supposed to be. Where he'd been thinking that no one wanted him, despite the growing evidence to the contrary. Lance had already heard about that. He was more fixated on what he thought was the most important thing Allura had said so far about Keith and Romelle.
"They were dating?" Lance clarified, surprised that he was surprised.
"Well, sort of," Allura answered. "They couldn't really go anywhere, but they were close. Romelle was devastated when he disappeared. Before Keith, she'd never been with anyone except David. And she hasn't been with anyone since. I've been trying to get her to move on forever, but it's like she was waiting for Keith. I was truly horrified by the situation that brought him back to her, but awful as it sounds, I was happy that they'd found each other again, that she hadn't been waiting for nothing. Though it got a little strange with the trial. He stopped answering his phone rather suddenly last week. It looked as though he were disappearing again."
"No," Lance denied on Keith's behalf, shocked and dazed, a strange ache in his soul. "I found him in his apartment on Friday, sicker than I've ever seen anyone, and then he wasn't in any shape to talk until after the trial ended Monday afternoon. He's been busy since then too. He's not trying to avoid anyone; I just honestly think he doesn't have time."
"Still - I want to help them get back to how they were. Don't you think they belong together?"
"I . . I don't know," Lance stuttered, put on the spot. Was he really sitting here with the girl he'd fantasized about, making plans to create a relationship for the boy he was suddenly infatuated with? Or was it recreate? They'd already been together. At least as much together as it had been possible to be with Keith in the detention center and Romelle becoming a social pariah. Funny how Keith had forgotten that part when he'd been explaining it all to Lance earlier. Though, those personal details hadn't really meant much to the trial, which had been the main focus of the discussion. Lance hadn't even thought to ask if Keith had kept in contact with her. Never thought for a second that she'd become his girlfriend, even though it made sense for it happen that way.
"Oh, is he seeing someone?" Allura changed direction as she monitored Lance's expression, crestfallen at his lack of enthusiasm for her idea. "Is he dating someone else?"
"If he is, he didn't tell me," Lance said, all the ease of their chat falling apart at this new direction, thinking of Keith and Romelle. About them being together. Her hands around his waist, burying her face into his chest. "But it's really up to them, isn't it?"
"I suppose that's true. I guess we'll just have to see what happens," Allura said, shrugging, disappointed but not daunted. "At least they've found each other again and everything is finally over. It might work out wonderfully well."
Lance swallowed, swirling the last few sips of his coffee around in the bottom of his cup. It had gone cold a long time ago. Wonderfully well, she said, though Lance was struggling to see Keith and Romelle together. Though she probably had a better chance than he did, what with her having a longer history with Keith. Oh, and being a girl probably helped a lot. God, Lance was so stupid. He might be the only idiot in the world who could confuse being vulnerably and deathly ill with being gay. He should have known better.
"Lance?" Allura called to him, bringing him back to where she was still seated next to him at the table, the sun glinting off her white hair. She had reached forward to touch him; he just now noticed. Her hand was resting carefully on his arm.
"Yeah?" He asked, wondering if she'd asked him a question that he hadn't heard, feeling so helplessly ungrateful. How long had he wanted to be here, exactly here, with Allura? And now he had it. She was sitting next to him at the table, touching him, talking with him, and he was barely paying attention. What was wrong with him anyway?
Allura pulled back, noticing him staring at her hand. "Nothing," she stated. "You just . . . seem rather sad all of a sudden."
"No," Lance contradicted, not wanting Allura to even suspect why he might be sad about her optimistic comments for the romantic future of their friends. "Just tired. It took a long time to clean up last night."
"Oh," Allura said, her eyes going unfocused momentarily as that scene replayed in her memory. She'd been sitting right across the aisle from that whole disaster. She'd seen everything. "You were absolutely brilliant last night, by the way. I meant to tell you, but somehow we just didn't . . . Do you know if she's ok? The girl?"
"She's fine," Lance confirmed, liking the change in topic. He didn't want to talk about how perfect Romelle and Keith were together anymore. He was going to have to think about that later, when he was alone and could process it properly. Seal his heart up about Keith in private. "Brett's been reassigned to the front desk, though."
"I . . have questions about that," Allura hinted, and Lance understood why. Looks like Allura wasn't the only one who was going to have to admit to screwing up today. "You gave my file to him."
"I was being . . . I shouldn't have even thought about it," Lance let her know. "I didn't know I was holding your folder until I got out into the waiting room. I wasn't expecting to see you; it wasn't your normal day. And when I saw your face, I knew you didn't want to see me, so I decided to let Brett take you back."
"I've never seen you look at me like that before. You looked so angry," Allura said, sounding sad, knowing that he had every right to be angry. Even though angry wasn't the right word. "Seeing you that way made me certain I'd wrecked everything."
"More hurt than angry," Lance corrected her. "I figured you were still mad at me, didn't want to have anything to do with me because you still thought I was a liar. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you that way. I shouldn't have switched folders. Not with Brett."
"Why do you say it like that?" Allura speculated, curious. "Like you knew he would hurt me."
Lance hesitated for a moment before deciding to show her what he was talking about. He pulled back his left sleeve, displaying the dark bruise that covered the inside of his forearm – all the way down to his wrist and going halfway up his bicep. The bright sunlight coming in from the windows made the contrast to his regular skin tone extreme. Allura gasped and reached out, as if unable to stop herself from softly resting her hands over the damage. Lance's muscles tensed, but her touch was too gentle to hurt. Her fingers were cool as they rested lightly against him. She stared at him with her mouth slightly open, concerned and horrified at the same time.
"This is how Brett does venipunctures," Lance explained.
"How . . . Lance, I didn't even know this was possible. How is it that he's even allowed to work there if he does this kind of damage consistently?"
"Well, that's the thing. It's not consistent; it all depends on the person. Brett's not a bad guy," Lance defended him. "His technique is correct; he's just inexperienced. He needs more practice, and there's only one way to get it. His biggest problem is trying to go too fast. He's never done anything dangerous; he's never screwed up like he did last night before. But he's not very gentle. So yes, I knew he'd hurt you, even when he does everything right, his venipunctures hurt. I don't let him start new donors, or let him touch anyone with difficult veins, the ones who bruise easily. Mostly, he takes donors off machines instead. Or if no one is available, he takes the experienced, easy sticks. But I just couldn't let him touch you no matter how hurt or angry I was. It would be like I'd hurt you myself on purpose and . . . no. I couldn't be responsible for that. That's why I sent him away. I'd changed my mind about it at the last minute."
"You were protecting me?" Allura asked, her voice warm, touched and guilty. Lance slipped his arm carefully out from under her hands, tugging down his sleeve again.
"Yeah," Lance said, wondering where to go from here.
"Lance, I don't know what to say," Allura fumbled. "Thank you. I'm so sorry."
"So am I," Lance replied, picking up pieces of the shredded napkin and stuffing them into his cup. Their conversation felt as though it were coming to an end. Lance wanted to start walking, moving, processing everything that had happened this afternoon. When he stood up, Allura also rose with graceful speed, as though afraid he were abandoning her forever.
"Lance, wait. You're right - I don't deserve it," Allura began, rather quickly, wanting to get it out before he left. Lance paused in the process of picking up his bag. "You've already been more than gracious, but . . . do you think you could you give me another chance?"
Lance met her gaze, looked hard into her face, and thought about what she'd just said, what she'd offered. A week ago, he'd been a stuttering disaster at the very idea of being with her. Now he wasn't sure. But if he couldn't be with Keith, and he'd known that wouldn't work even before he'd learned about Keith and Romelle. Since he couldn't be with Keith . . . why shouldn't he give Allura a chance? He'd wanted her once, and he knew if he turned her down this time, there would never be another opportunity.
"Ok," he heard himself agree, quietly, reserved. "I'd like that," he finished, willing it to be true. Being with Allura was a better choice logistically anyway. It was a match that would be more acceptable to his family. It was better for his own protection, really. Keith was unpredictable and unobtainable on so many levels, and the sooner Lance got that into his head, the healthier he would be.
Allura beamed at him, and he smiled softly back at her. She took it as an invitation and stepped closer to him. Lance opened his arm to her almost on instinct, allowing her to embrace him, testing it by folding her against his chest with both arms. They'd never been this close. She had a floral scent to her hair; he could feel the sculpt of her shoulder blades. She fit into him as perfectly as he'd always fantasized that she would. Her five-nine frame exactly right for his six-one. It's right, he told himself, forcing his heart to believe it.
"Thank you," Allura whispered, close to his ear.
"Thank you," Lance echoed, stepping away from her. This is good. This is everything I've always wanted. He found her hand and purposefully interlocked their fingers, leading her out of the coffee shop. Away from the music and the little ghost on the door, wondering if they could cross the threshold and not have everything that had just happened burst apart, like waking up from a dream.
But no. Even in the brightly lit corridor of Mandel Hall, Allura still stood beside him. They let go of each other only so Lance could properly put on his backpack and Allura could button up her white peacoat and put on her mittens, which were pale blue wool with an intricate cable knitted up the backs. It matched her hat. When they reached for each other again, there was a slipperiness to the grip, their hands shifting beneath the wool. Lance held on tighter as they walked together outside, back towards the Quad, waiting for the part where this would feel real.
"So . . . what do we do now?" Allura asked him.
"Well," Lance speculated, trying to sound like he knew exactly what they should do now, as if he were completely in control and not half-dizzy in confusion as to how the world had suddenly rearranged itself in the last few hours. "Right this second, I have to go to Spanish class."
"Ok," Allura accepted, smiling at him. "Maybe I can see you after that?"
"I have one more class right after, but I'll be done by five. We can," Lance paused, wondering what would be an acceptable proposal for them. He thought of his apartment, how Hunk had already been planning on extra people for dinner tonight, how that might be the best start to whatever this might turn into. He wanted Hunk to meet Allura, that would be the most reliable test of her character. If Hunk liked her, then it would be ok. Then it might just work out.
"Do you want to come back to my place for dinner after class?" Lance suggested, sounding more sure of himself now. "You can meet my roommate."
"Well," Allura started, looking worried. "I'd love to, but I'll need to drive home before dark, before the roads freeze over. I didn't bring anything with me this week to stay the night with Romelle."
"Oh," Lance said, slightly disappointed. This was harder than he'd thought it would be. Allura laughed, though there was no humor in it.
"Don't worry," she assured him. "I'm sure we can find somewhere in our schedules to pencil each other in."
"Allura, I think . . . before we go any farther . . . that we should talk about that," Lance said as he stopped walking. He just wanted her to understand what this might be like. He wanted her to have all the information before he disappointed her again.
Allura turned serious, studying him.
"I don't think I'm going to be the easiest person in the world to date," Lance confessed. "I'm not home much. Seventeen credits, a part-time job, and my volunteer EMT requirements don't leave me a whole lot of free time. I just want you to understand that situations like last week can happen again. I may have to cancel plans, sometimes at the last minute, especially since I'm considering being mentored by someone in the ER and she's . . . well, she'll probably own my soul if I agree to that. But the point is it's not fair to ask you to wait for me, and I won't be offended if you change your mind about starting something with me now that you know."
Lance wasn't sure what he expected after disclosing all of this. Maybe that Allura would agree with him, shake his hand, and wish him luck in his loneliness. But when he turned his head to look at her, she was looking back with a soft kindness in her eyes. A new patience.
"I appreciate the offer, but after watching you yesterday, I think I have a better understanding of what being with you means. I know I handled last week badly, but I promise that I will never do that to you again. You saved Keith's life; you knew exactly where you needed to be last night and exactly what to do. You're very skilled, Lance, and I won't be so selfish as to deprive you from using those skills to help people. I waited for you last night, and I'm prepared to keep doing that. I'll be satisfied with whatever moments you can give me. I want to support you."
"Allura," Lance began, wondering if she had any idea what she was saying. How long this promise could possibly last when the reality of what she'd just agreed to hit her. When she realized how easy it would be for her to find someone else, someone who could dote on her the way that Lance couldn't. But at the same time, what right did he have to tell her that she couldn't keep her promise? How could he tell her that she would fail him when he'd never given her a chance to even try?
"I do have a question for you, though," Allura continued, her expression playful, as though the situation had been somber for long enough.
"What is it?" Lance asked, preparing himself.
"Am I an 'easy stick'?" She asked, rather teasingly, and tension broke off of Lance in a heavy clump.
"Actually, you're not," he told her, smiling, which caused her to pout just a little bit. He took her arm, though she was wearing too many layers and it was too cold outside to expose her skin so he could explain properly. He rested his hand against the inside of her elbow anyway, the place on Allura's body that he was most familiar with. "Your skin is dark, which makes the veins harder to see so I have to go by feel more than anything, and you've had needles placed into the same vein over fifty times on a regular basis, so there's quite a bit of scar tissue that's built up, which makes it harder to cannulate without hurting you. So, no, you're not easy at all."
"But I never even feel it," Allura said, which prompted a bit of pride to warm Lance's chest.
"That's because I don't allow anyone to touch you but me," Lance told her, more serious than playful. He could tell that she understood what he was saying, but it was something that she'd never really thought about until just now. Gratitude filled her eyes.
"Who was the hardest patient you've ever done?" Allura wondered as they began walking again, holding hands, shoulders brushing up against each other.
"Keith," Lance answered without hesitation, feeling the cold seeping into his neck. Saying his name sort of hurt now, the memory of being with him still fresh and tragic. Especially because Lance had never truly been with him. His loss a brand-new wound in Lance's heart that Allura's presence at his side was only barely keeping from bleeding out.
"Keith donates plasma?" Allura followed up, her tone disbelieving.
"No," Lance scoffed, knowing that Keith's iron levels wouldn't have got him past the front desk. It'd be months, maybe years, before he'd be healthy enough to donate plasma. "I'm the one who placed his IV when he was crashing in the ambulance on the way to the ER. Hardest thing I've ever done."
"Oh," Allura sounded sorry that she'd asked these questions now. "I guess I didn't realize that you'd be the one to do anything like that."
Lance shook his head. He didn't want to go into how he really shouldn't have. He didn't want to remember that ride at all. Not now, or ever. Allura suddenly snuggled up close, clinging to his arm with both hands, resting her head against his shoulder.
"He's ok," Allura reminded him, as though she could tell that he was back in that ambulance, watching Keith gasping for breath, watching his numbers fall so dangerously low. "You were there for him when he needed you, and now he's fine."
"You're right," Lance acknowledged, forcing himself into the present again. He leaned his head on top of hers momentarily before straightening up as they reached the front of his building. "Thank you," he said, grateful to her for more than one thing.
"Go on," Allura released him, nodding toward the door. "You don't want to be late for your class."
"What are your plans tomorrow?" Lance asked, a sudden burst of a question as Allura turned to leave. "It's my roommate's birthday, so we're having a little party for him. I'm cooking Cuban. If you're free, maybe you could come? Bring Romelle." He didn't know why he said that. Maybe he thought it would be a good way to test himself, or maybe he just wanted everything to hurt all at once. Or maybe it was a last, weird and desperate attempt to keep Keith in his life. If Lance were going to date Allura, and Keith was dating her best friend . . . then they could all stay together. Maybe it was a normal that Lance could get used to.
"That sounds perfect," Allura agreed, coming close to him again.
"It'll go until after dark," Lance warned her, thinking of her winter restrictions. "We aren't even starting until six."
"Then I'll go home with Romelle," Allura answered smoothly, showing him that she could be available. It would take just a little forethought is all. "Text me your address?"
"Sure."
Allura had tucked herself up against him, looking up into his face, smiling with that serene sophistication that he'd admired for so long. Lance timidly brushed the back of his hand down her cheek, staring at her like she wasn't really there, like this wasn't actually happening.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow," Allura promised, and Lance realized that her hands were wrapped around his waist. This is a good start. This is good. This is what I wanted.
"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," Lance told her, reminding himself that this was the truth. His words made her break eye contact, like she didn't believe him, her head tilting downward as she looked at the slush at their feet. "Drive safe, ok?"
She nodded, turning her face up. Lance felt her lift onto her tiptoes, felt her arms tighten around him to help her reach. As soft as a snowflake, she kissed the corner of his mouth before dropping back to the ground, letting him go. He took her arms before she took a step away, recovering from the surprise of what she'd just done. He bent down, giving her a longer kiss, her lips smooth and wonderful. We can do this. This is going to work. I'm going to do right by her. I'm going to make this right.
He wasn't sure about his kissing abilities, it wasn't like he had a whole lot of practice, but Allura seemed rather dazed and extremely pleased when he pulled back. She squeezed his hand and then deliberately gave him a little push, making it clear that they couldn't keep standing out here saying good-bye. Lance had to get to class, and even though he knew that, he watched her walk away from him for a few more seconds. You are the luckiest Cuban in the world, he told himself fiercely, wishing that it felt that way.
His Spanish class didn't leave him any mental space to even think about the events of the afternoon. The professor gave an assignment that would require them to record a ten-minute conversation with a native Spanish speaker, and he was the only one in the room. When the thirty-five other students all turned to him simultaneously, he gulped, wondering how he could possibly accommodate them all when his teacher saved him with the mandate that he was only allowed to do five. He was also exempted from the assignment since he would be helping out his classmates. Everyone else would have to broaden their search, but that almost made it harder as he was pounced on immediately after class with requests to be one of the five. It felt strange, to have so many people clamoring for his attention. And none of them was the one he really wanted.
He'd barely shaken off the last hopeful as he closed the door to the ballroom for his dance class, grateful for the movement the next hour promised him. It was impossible to be broody while learning the foxtrot. Or at least, he used to think so. He had to concentrate, so he tried not to think much past Sinatra repeatedly singing "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square."
Whenever they were required to pair up for practicing the new steps they just learned, Lance usually made it a point to ask the girls who normally did not get asked, though now he wondered what Allura might think of this activity. Would she be ok with Lance dancing with other girls like this? It was just a class, but he'd never had a girlfriend to worry about before.
God, she was his girlfriend. Was she really his girlfriend? Lance tripped in a twirl and barely caught his partner before she fell completely wrong on her ankle. He apologized, taking her into his arms again, even as he was remembering that he'd kissed Allura good-bye. He'd kissed her. And it had been nice.
They switched partners and started the routine again. Lance extended his hand to a girl without even really looking at her, closing his eyes as he pulled her unresistingly into position, lifting their elbows high as his palm settled into the correct spot on her back. He tried to imagine dancing with Allura like this. Did she know how to dance already? Her mom taught dance, but not this style. Maybe he'd teach her.
As he went through the steps, his mind was moving forward, picturing how things were going to go. He started with what might happen tomorrow, when he had Allura, Keith, and Romelle all in one spot. How he was going to be careful to keep his feelings for Keith strictly friendly, how that was going to be so important for him not to make it weird between them. How he was going to be attentive to Allura. How he was going to get used to this.
He danced without thinking about it, hands changing in his hands as new partners came to him without being invited, the words to the song repeating over and over in his head along with the plans for tomorrow. Keith and Romelle. Lance and Allura. Perfect partners. He had to start believing this. He wasn't going to the be one who destroyed the dynamic, who wrecked the synergy. He was going to play his part until it became effortless. Until it became real. Until he'd forgotten that there had ever been a hint of it being a different way.
By the time he'd made it back to his apartment, the sun had completely set, and so had his resolve. He'd almost convinced himself that he was truly happy about how things had worked out. It was going to be fine. He was smiling as he opened his door.
Though it slipped from his face as he entered, feeling immediately that something was very off in these rooms. There were no lights on, no music. Normally it would be bright. Pidge would be sitting at the table, or standing near Hunk in the kitchen. The whole place would smell warmly of whatever Hunk had made for dinner.
"Hunk?" Lance called, closing the door and pulling off his mittens, kicking off his shoes. "Anybody home?"
He glanced at the table, looking for a note, surprised to find it clean. Not so much as a stray bit of wire to be seen. Where was the radio? Where was Hunk?
"Hunk!" Lance repeated, louder this time, making his way to the back, down the hall to Hunk's bedroom. Here at last, he could hear something. Music playing inside the room. Metallica. Oh no. Lance knocked for the politeness of the thing, but he was already opening the door before he'd finished. "Hey, big guy, how's it going?" Lance greeted as he peeked inside, worried by what he might see.
Hunk was sitting morosely on his bed, a stack of computer games by his desk, random piles of clothes and tools all over the room. The organized chaos that Hunk preferred to live in. Lance carefully picked his way through in order to get at Hunk's desk chair, inviting himself to sit. Hunk hid his face in his hands. And here Lance thought he'd had a strange and disappointing day. It took a lot to damage Hunk's good spirits.
"A Metallica kind of bad, huh?" Lance asked, hoping that would break Hunk open into explaining what had brought this on. "Want to tell me about it?" Hunk groaned in response, which got them nowhere.
I'll, um, order us a pizza, ok?" Lance offered, waiting for Hunk to get it together enough to tell him what had happened. Or maybe he should call Pidge. He might have better luck getting information from her. Unless she was the reason Hunk was so unhappy. They did bicker a lot, but it never went anywhere near a real argument. "What do you want on it? Pineapple?"
"I'm not hungry," Hunk murmured, deepening Lance's worry. He couldn't remember a time when Hunk had turned down pizza. This was serious.
"Aw, buddy, pizza fixes everything," Lance said softly, unconvincingly, all thoughts of Allura and Romelle pushed aside for the moment so he could prioritize Hunk. He was thinking back to this morning. Had Hunk been normal this morning? What had changed? Or had Lance just not noticed. It could have happened so easily. He'd been so distracted lately. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Instead of answering, Hunk pointed to his computer, where he'd set his screensaver as a series of gears turning in never-ending circles. Curious and overwhelmed, Lance jiggled the mouse to wake up the machine, the last webpage that Hunk had been looking at brightening enough to read.
It was the JPL website. The one Hunk checked multiple times a day, waiting for the outcome of the internship. They'd still received no word. Lance scanned the page for what was so upsetting. The title of the position was at the top, right under the official logos and seals. The required credentials for applicants were there as was the deadline for submissions. But there was new wording on the page today. Toward the bottom, in red.
This position has been closed and all successful applicants notified.
"Oh, Hunk, I'm sorry," Lance breathed. Apparently, Hunk was not on the successful applicant list. Which meant that Pidge wasn't either. "Does Pidge know?"
"Yeah, she was here with me when I brought it up," Hunk managed, still distraught. "She didn't come back after her class, though."
"Should I go get her?" Lance offered, wondering what sort of shape she was in if Hunk was this low. He was trying to think of how best to cheer up his geeky friends. Especially if pizza didn't sound appetizing. This might take something intense. Somehow the only thing coming to Lance was some kind of movie marathon. Miyazaki maybe. Oh, no wait, this might be bad enough for all of Star Wars.
"She said she was going to stay home and play the most violent video game she owns," Hunk said, and Lance's soul eased about Pidge a little. Being pissed and taking it out through a first-person shooter game seemed better than how Hunk was taking this. Lance felt horribly guilty about being so relieved. If they hadn't been accepted, it meant they weren't moving. They weren't going to leave him. He was sad that Hunk was so upset, but Lance truly didn't know what he'd do if he found out that he'd lost Keith and Hunk and Pidge all in one day. There wasn't enough Metallica or pizza in the world for that.
"Hunk," Lance repeated helplessly, clicking the webpage closed and trying to figure out where the music was coming from. He wanted to turn it off, but decided not to. He'd have to let Hunk process this his own way, but that didn't mean he couldn't encourage him a little. "I'll be in the living room, ok? Come out when you're ready."
He patted Hunk encouragingly on the shoulder as he left the room, mentally preparing the bait that would lure Hunk from his own despair. First, he did order the pizza – the one with the weird toppings that Hunk liked best. He'd just finished when his phone rang. Keith's number.
"Keith?" Lance answered, surprised to hear from him. When had Keith ever called him?
"Hey. How'd it go?" Keith asked, getting straight to the point. "Did you work everything out with Allura?"
"Well, everything is sort of a tall order, but she's not mad at me anymore." Lance decided he loved the sound of Keith's voice. It had a richness to it now that it wasn't slurred with fever, and Keith had a tendency to linger over vowels, opening them more than Lance was used to. Damn it, Keith.
"Good," Keith quipped, sounding rather satisfied with himself. He'd been trying to give Lance a gift with that conversation after all, so of course he'd wanted it to go well.
"You could have told me you knew her," Lance accused, wanting to ask Keith a ton of questions about all of this. About Romelle, especially. He should have asked before, when Keith was weak and tied to a hospital bed. He might never have a chance now.
"If you'd ever said her name, I would have," Keith defended himself, and Lance knew he was right. He paced around the living room, trying to figure out the correct cords and remote buttons that Pidge and Hunk and rigged to the television. It somehow talked to a device that got them access to pretty much every movie ever made. Or as they liked to say – every movie ever made that's worth watching.
Lance heard someone on the other side of the line call to Keith, and he knew it was Shiro. That it was time for them to go and meet with Shiro's friends from the Air Force. That they were going out together tonight for the first time as legal family. Lance found he could be happy about that. Happy for Keith to have a family. That was something that everyone deserved.
"Shiro's waiting for you," Lance said, revealing that he'd heard and understood what was going on.
"Yeah, I've got to go," Keith said, but Lance already knew. "I just wanted to check on you. You're home now, right? Nothing crazy going on?"
"I'm home," Lance confirmed, looking around the empty front of the apartment. It didn't really feel like home right now. He wished he had time to talk to Keith about the crazy, but he was busy. And Keith deserved to have a night where everything was perfect for once. "Have a great time tonight, ok? I'll see you tomorrow." If there still was going to be a tomorrow. Hunk might not be feeling like celebrating anything, not even his birthday.
"See you, Lance," Keith said in farewell, hanging up before Lance could even respond. His three-word good-bye strangled Lance around the throat. He was going to have to get tighter control over this if he was going to hang out with him tomorrow. Practice, he admonished himself. It was just going to take practice and getting used to.
Hunk stayed in his room while Lance tried to guess which Star Wars movie might be his favorite. Had he ever told him that? Did he have a favorite? Maybe it would be safest to just start at the beginning, which Lance seemed to remember was actually Episode IV or something. Eh, if he got it wrong, Hunk could distract himself by re-educating Lance about the correct sequence. Lance started it up, setting the volume just high enough that Hunk could hear from the bedroom. Then he grabbed his backpack, spreading his homework out on the coffee table to work with the movie playing in the background. Though he hadn't made it very far into his child development reading when the pizza showed up.
Lance took a minute to have a slice of it, remembering as he ate that he hadn't texted Allura his address yet. Better do that now. Except he'd no sooner sent it then he wondered if he should have waited a little longer. The scent of the pizza and the dramatic ascending leitmotif of the Star Wars soundtrack wasn't bringing Hunk out of his room yet, which meant that this funk could last a while. Which meant that he could be canceling on Allura for the third time without ever actually having a real, successful date. Which meant that he was probably the worst boyfriend ever. Man, was it always going to be this complicated? He thought he'd better call her – at least get it all out in the open so if there did end up being no party, at least she'd know sooner.
"Lance," Allura greeted him on the second ring. Wow, she sounded so happy to hear from him. That was an unexpected surprise. Such a change from the tone she'd used last week, the first time he'd ever heard her say his name out loud. He wished he had a better reason for calling her. "I was just texting you. Should I bring anything with me tomorrow?"
"No," Lance said quickly. "No, you don't have to bring anything. I'm. . .actually not sure if the party's still on." Lance looked over his shoulder toward the hallway. The dark and empty hallway.
"Oh? What happened? Is something wrong?" Allura seemed to be getting better at reading Lance's voice, as though she were learning his tones like a second language. Lance discovered that he was impressed.
"Hunk got some bad news today. That's my roommate. He's pretty disappointed right now and not feeling like celebrating. I'm trying to cheer him up, but if he doesn't want to see anyone tomorrow, then I'll postpone the party for a better time. We can still do something together, though," Lance offered, almost as an afterthought, though he wasn't sure what they would do. "I'm not going to cancel on you again; promise. But we might have to alter the plan a little." Maybe he could talk her into coming over and doing their classwork together on the couch? Or should he take her out somewhere? But should he really leave Hunk in his misery like this? That didn't seem right. Especially after everything that Hunk had done for Lance just this last week.
"Let's just wait and see how things go tomorrow," Allura offered graciously. "I'm sure you'll have him feeling better soon; you're a very soothing person. What sort of bad news was it?"
"He wasn't accepted into the internship position at JPL that he'd been hoping for," Lance explained, letting the compliment slip from his heart without considering it too much. "Which doesn't make sense, honestly. They must have had some incredible candidates if Hunk and Pidge didn't make it in."
"You're talking about your roommates?" Allura hesitantly asked, and Lance realized that he was talking to her like she knew all about them. He may have gone on at length about Allura to Hunk and Pidge, but he'd never told her about them at all.
"Hunk is my roommate," Lance reiterated. "Pidge is his . . .um, partner? They do everything together, and they're the smartest people I know. I thought for sure they'd get in. You know they just finished building a radio? Supposedly, they can use it to talk to the space station. They were going to test it tomorrow. Oh! What'd he do with it?"
Lance stood up with the phone, scanning the apartment for the newly completed radio that had lived either on the table or in the cardboard box next to it for what seemed like months, though it had really only been a few weeks. He hoped Hunk hadn't decided to do anything he'd regret – like smash it with a hammer or throw it from the balcony. But it definitely wasn't here anymore.
"Do with what? The radio?" Allura tried to keep up with Lance using only the voice connection via the phone. The double question forced Lance to hold still, closing his eyes so that he was only focusing on one thing. The phone in his hand. The patient girl on the other side of it.
"Yes," Lance confirmed, slowing himself down. One thing at a time. "He put so much work into it. I hope he didn't decide to take it all apart, but I'll look for it later. How was the drive home? Ok? It takes you . . what? Half an hour?"
"A little more than that," Allura said, a nod in her voice. "I get a lot of reading done in the car, what with going back and forth every day." Lance smiled with his eyes still closed, still standing near the partial wall by the kitchen. Even when she was driving, she was reading. This girl.
"What are you listening to right now?" Lance asked.
"Napoleon Hill's Think and Grow Rich," Allura answered promptly, something like passion in her voice. "It's positively mind blowing. Or mind altering? Anyway, it's not anything like I thought it was. I'm enjoying it very much."
"That's . . . not your normal genre, though, is it?" Lance ventured, trying to picture a book like that on the same shelf as Jane Austen and the other popular books that Allura normally brought to her donations. "The last one I saw you with that wasn't homework was Gone, Girl, wasn't it?"
"Oh, that," Allura scoffed. "I didn't pick that. My book club did. I bring those fluffy things to donations because they don't take much concentration to get through. I love the girls in the club, truly, they're wonderful, but their taste in books is somewhat, well, I'm sure they think the same about me. The last time it was my choice I made them all read The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. I think I would have been kicked out a long time ago except they know if I left, Romelle probably would too."
For some reason, Lance found this intensely funny. "There . . there really is a book club?" He managed to say, struggling to get the words out because he was laughing too hard. That's what Pidge had always called it. Lance's stalker book club.
"Yes," Allura said, guarded, not understanding why Lance would be laughing about that. "Is that so amusing?"
"I've read every single book you brought in," Lance confessed, softening into snickers as he realized she might think he was making fun of her. "I thought it would be a good way to get to know you." Nope, no good, it was too funny. "I stayed up . . stayed up all night reading Pride and Prejudice!"
"Oh, God, I'm sorry! I hated that book!" Allura burst out, and Lance could hear that she was laughing too. Lance leaned against the wall, weak from laughing. All those books, and she hadn't even picked them. He'd spent all that time in a roundabout effort to get to know her . . . and hadn't gotten anywhere with it. "Well, now you'll have to come to the next meeting. You've read more of the selections than two thirds of the girls, so we simply must have you as an honorary member."
"They wouldn't want me either," Lance said teasingly. "The last book I read for fun was the 1300-page Outdoor Emergency Care Guide."
"No, now I insist you participate," Allura encouraged with mock authority. "After a book like that, they'll be begging for my self-improvement titles. Oh, but please don't be offended. I think it's incredible that you put so much effort into learning. It's admirable."
Lance huffed, calming down, smiling. She really was amazing. He felt something like genuine affection taking root in his chest, replacing the icicle that had been there yesterday.
"I . . do what I can," Lance admitted humbly. "Just like you."
"Hmm," Allura hummed, pleased.
"And right now, I'm going to go do what I can for Hunk," Lance followed up, drawing their conversation to a close. "I just wanted to let you know that tomorrow is a little sketchy right now. But I'm not canceling. We'll figure it out.
"Thank you, Lance," Allura said, gratitude thick in her voice. "I'll see you tomorrow . . one way or another."
"Right. Good-night, Allura."
"Good-night." There was a pause after the final word, and Lance knew that she was waiting for him to hang up first. He thought about waiting, but in the end, he shook his head and clicked end on his phone. He would see her tomorrow, and right now he was pretty concerned about Hunk's missing radio. Lance knelt in front of the cardboard boxes, beginning to carefully pick through them to see if he could find it.
"Lance?"
Lance jerked his head up, relieved to see Hunk leaning against the opening to the hall, the place where Keith had been leaning yesterday morning.
"Hey, Hunk, want some pizza?" Lance invited, trying to be bright. Hunk was staring at him strangely, his arms folded across his broad chest, eyes narrow and calculating.
"Did I just hear you saying good-bye to Allura?"
"Oh, yeah," Lance said, realizing that Hunk had no idea what had happened this afternoon. That Keith and Allura knew each other. That Lance and Allura were dating now. "That was her on the phone. We were talking about books."
Hunk let his arms drop, staring around the apartment, confused. Like he'd fallen into an alternate reality. "She's talking to you? You're laughing about it?"
"Yeah. We're, um, we're sort of dating now?" Lance didn't know why that came out as a question. Maybe because it didn't feel real yet. Maybe he wanted Hunk's approval first before it could be a real thing. He watched Hunk's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
"Ok – that's literally the last thing I thought you were going to say," Hunk said, rather accusingly. "What is it with you lately and the dramatic revelations? Oh, hey, this stranger I brought home who almost died in our living room is on trial for murder but he didn't really do it, and by the way, I'm dating the girl who wouldn't speak to me yesterday. How does that even work?"
"You better sit down and have some pizza for this one, buddy," Lance warned him, and Hunk obediently perched on the couch near the food, staring at Lance, who figured this was probably a welcome distraction for him. It kept him from thinking about his missed opportunity at JPL. So Lance talked. Told Hunk all about Romelle and Keith and how they were all connected and how Lance and Allura had worked out their misunderstandings and now she was his girlfriend, sort of, maybe. They were working on it.
"Wait a minute," Hunk interrupted him at one point. "What about Keith?"
"What about Keith?" Lance repeated, stiffening up, knowing that even if he successfully tricked every other person about it, including himself, he'd never get it past Hunk – who was looking at him rather scoldingly for playing ignorant about his question.
"The way you two have been acting, I was expecting your dating announcement to be a little different," Hunk replied, putting it very tactfully.
"Keith's not like that," Lance blurted out, staring at the carpet. "He and Romelle dated after he saved her."
"And you were head over heels about Allura before you met Keith," Hunk pointed out, undaunted. "Who's to say Keith's not the same as you? Or maybe he's fighting it? Did you even talk to him about it?"
"God, no. How am I going to bring something like that up?" While Lance was grateful that Hunk wasn't acting so depressed, he wished there had been a better way to get him out of it.
"Easy. You look at him and say," Hunk stuttered, deflating. "You say –"
"You can't even say it and he's not even here!" Lance exploded, and Hunk shrugged in defeat. Lance decided to move on, softer. "Allura thinks that Keith and Romelle are going to get back together. And I want him to be happy. He freaking deserves it. So no, I'm not talking to him about it. I'm not making it weird between us. I'm dating Allura like I wanted to in the first place, and Keith is going to date her best friend, and I am going to be ok with that. Ok?"
Hunk looked extremely skeptical. "You're going to be ok with that?" He repeated, as sarcastic as Lance had ever heard him.
"Yes," Lance said emphatically. "Allura is fantastic. She's smart, ambitious, and beautiful, warm and kind. She's better than I even imagined her. It's so perfect it's like it's not even real."
"And there it is," Hunk said, a little smugly.
"Hunk," Lance pleaded. "Keith and I can't work out; there's nothing there to work with. It might have looked like something, but only because he was sick to death. The past couple days, he didn't want me to even touch him. He flinched when I put my hand on his head to check his temperature. Flinched. I don't want to embarrass him any more than he was already. I want him to stay in our lives, so I'm going to support him through however many girls he wants to date whether it's Romelle or whoever."
"I still think you should talk to him," Hunk advised, grating at Lance's heart. "I find it's the most efficient way of figuring things out."
"I don't think so," Lance denied, unwilling to talk about it anymore. He slouched dejectedly onto the couch next to Hunk, his eyes pulled toward the television where he had no idea what was happening in the movie that was still playing in the background. "What's even going on in this?" He asked, just to switch topics.
"Let's shut it off," Hunk suggested. "It's not the movie we need anyway."
"Fine," Lance agreed immediately. "What do we need?"
Hunk's normally soft brown eyes had a sharpness to them as he turned to look at Lance. "Pacific Rim," he said, pushing a button on his remote without breaking eye contact. Lance had never heard of it, but he'd rather watch giant mech robots than talk anymore. Though he had one thing left to say.
"Hey Hunk? Promise me something?"
"I'm not going to say anything to Keith," Hunk said, knowing exactly what Lance was going to ask. "But if you want to be fair to everyone involved, and I gotta say, the body count on this is getting high, then you should."
They stopped talking as the movie started, but Lance didn't think that either of them watched it.
Author's Note: Ugh . . I know. I'm sorry. I felt this chapter was too important to leave out. I'm trying to be quick, though. I think there's only about four chapters left of this. That's rather astonishing to me. Hang in there just a little longer. I know this chapter reads like dissonant chords, nails-on-a-chalkboard and it's supposed to. Have some faith. I know what I'm doing.
