Chapter Text
To be honest no one on the team was really interested in finding out when... everything started. Mainly because none of them had even noticed what was going on until it was directly in front of their faces (because that would be humiliating to admit) - but even then they still didn’t quite grasp what was going on.
Maybe it started when that Galra ship tried attacking Blue after they left Earth- that probably did something for the “thrill of the chase” instinct most Galra (apparently) seemed to have. Or maybe it was after Sendak invaded the Castle, or on the Balmara, or the Galactic Hub, or on any one of the numerous Galra ships Voltron had raided and destroyed. There was no clear beginning for them to pinpoint, no singular moment where the tables began to turn.
All they knew was that suddenly the Galra they faced off against seemed to share one inexplicable trait, a quirk that was so unexpected and perplexing that they ,had at first, dismissed as nothing of particular significance- because it was just so implausible . But it was real. Holy shit it was real.
And to give credit where it was due- Pidge was the first among them to actually raise some speculation about the behavior of some of their Galra prisoners after the team had broken into a cargo cruiser for information about docking locations and ship routes.
It wasn’t even something that particularly stood out, Pidge would later note, it was just that the three Galra they tied up kept...stealing glances at Lance . They were split second gazes, not lingering long enough to draw much attention from anyone on the team….well anyone but Pidge.
Shiro and Keith were keeping watch outside the ship’s main bay while Lance and Hunk both guarded Pidge as they downloaded the information to the castle’s database.
One of the Galra would let their gaze wash over Lance every few seconds, scanning his body up and down before turning their eye to the rest of the room as if to cover up their staring.
Pidge didn't like it.
Nothing good ever came from Galra soldiers eyeing their teammates, it usually meant they were singling one of them out. And as much as Pidge hated the thought of the Galra targeting Lance, they could almost see why they may be more...inclined to choose him.
Pidge's eyes narrowed on Lance's back. The Blue Paladin was half sitting on a dashboard that wound itself around the control deck. His legs swinging idly as he whistled a light tune and fiddled with his bayard. He looked far too at ease, likely why the Galra seemed to be paying him special attention. Pidge quickly glanced down at the loading screen in front of them, irritatingly noting that only about 83% of the information had transferred.
“Lance.” Pidge called. Lance stopped whistling and turned his curious gaze to them, raising a questioning brow.
“Yes Pidgey?” He asked curiously. Pidge didn’t make it a habit of chatting up their teammates during missions so his confusion was well-founded. But Lance was their teammate, they had to look out for him.
“Watch your back, alright?” Pidge replied, tilting their head to subtly gesture to the three Galra tied up in the corner.
Lance stared at them for a second before switching his gaze to the Galra (who all avoided his stare). Lance smirks confidently, the same way he always does when he thinks he's got everything under control but is really about to massively tank.
“Don’t worry Pidge,” He drawled, waving away Pidge’s warning, “these guys won’t get the drop on me. I mean who do you think you’re talking to?” He brags, pushing off the counter, swinging his bayard around, and moving into various ‘heroic’ poses. Pidge scoffs and rolls their eyes at the theatrics, already accustomed to Lance’s brand of personality.
“Whatever.” Pidge mutters and proceeds to ignore Lance until they can finish getting the necessary information.
Pidge tries to put the staring out of their mind- Lance and Hunk are both perfectly capable paladins, they don’t need Pidge to play babysitter. Plus all three Galra are tied up with electra-bound cables, there’s no way they can break out of those with brute strength and both Shiro and Keith searched their bodies beforehand so it’s not like they’re holding any hidden weapons. Lance is safe and the Galra can't try anything, even if they wanted to.
Pidge nods to themselves silently at the thought and tries to speed up the process because even though the chances of anything happen were incredibly low...it didn’t mean they weren’t there.
The second the last of the ship's information transferred Pidge quickly slammed their laptop shut and jumped to their feet.
“We're done here, I got everything I could.” Pidge announced, turning to Hunk who was standing closest to the exit. Hunk shoots them a small smile and nods before turning towards the bay’s doors. Pidge is hot on Hunk’s heel, also about to leave the room when they hear Lance’s voice call out from behind them.
“Well gentlemen,” Lance announces, addressing their bound prisoners, “it’s been fun! But it’s time for us to make like a banana and split .” Lance grins widely at the captives, throwing in a saucy wink and finger guns before turning and dancing out of the room with a skip.
Pidge stares after him, the slight curve of amusement tugging at their lips. As Pidge turns, they only give the Galra a passing glance.
Keith and Shiro were both quickly alerted of the mission’s completion and before long, all five paladins boarded their Lions and were headed for the castle, another successful mission to tack under Voltron’s belt. Pidge listened ,silently, to the slight argument between Keith and Lance over the open comms, both of them were voicing their opinions about the exact amount they ‘contributed’ during the mission, with Lance arguing their own importance by pointing out he had guarded Pidge as they stole information from the Galra. ‘ While the Galra were in the room with us, Keith! ’.
Now normally Pidge would be inclined to mention how the Galra were tied up and that Hunk had been guarding them as well, but Pidge’s mind is clouded in thought. The same way it gets when met with a particularly puzzling situation- because the thing is that Pidge is smart. Really smart. Really really smart. Pidge tends to be the brain of the operation, so that means they end up seeing the small details the others may not see. But if Pidge payed attention to every single thing then nothing would ever get done...but...Pidge still can’t help but think….think of the way the Galra looked after Lance had pranced away like some show-offy doe. It wasn’t bad, or malicious, or really anything very negative it was just...weird. The way they were still watching the place Lance had been been only seconds before, their eyes fixed in widened shock and astonishment (Pidge could relate, Lance truly was his own character with his own brand of personality). But if Pidge didn’t know any better (and Pidge did know better) they’d almost compare the look on those Galra’s faces as being almost identical to every comically lovestruck person in every romantic comedy that was released every summer...ever.
But...no. Just no. Because this was Lance they were talking about. Pidge has known Lance almost close to a full year and they would begrudgingly admit that Lance could be charming at times, what with his bright eyes and glowing skin (how did he do that anyway?), his compassionate and thoughtful nature. Pidge appreciated Lance and all he did, but these were Galra . In Pidge’s experience, all of them were too busy “Vrepit Sa-ing” all over the Universe to probably do much else and the thought of them having an interest...possibly an attraction to Lance was a big no-no. Because Lance was theirs , he belonged to team Voltron, he was Pidge’s friend and no one was going to take that away.
“Yo Pidgeon! You alive in there?”
Pidge flinched ,startled, at the sound of Lance’s voice flooding their comms.
“What?” Pidge asked, a bit too sharply. Lance’s head was suddenly projected onto their dashboard, his brow raised in question.
“You good?” He asked, the lightest touch of concern in his voice. Pidge nodded sharply.
“Yeah, duh. Why?” Pidge asked, rambling a bit and probably speaking quicker than normal. When Pidge got in the zone, they got in the zone and being pulled out of it so quickly always left them slightly disoriented. Lance’s eyes still shone with a gleam of concern.
“Um, because you’ve been sitting in your Lion for the last ten minutes? Usually you’re all ‘Oh boy! Encryption codes! Thanks mom and dad!’ and then you scurry off to your room until we drag you out for dinner.” Lance replies, doing his best impression of Pidge but he ends up sounding more like a gremlin breathing helium. Pidge is sure he’s doing it on purpose.
“I don’t sound like that!” Pidge immediately gripes. Lance shrugs and grins widely at them through the screen. Pidge feels their own face begin to betray them and mirror Lance’s expression.
“C’mon, I’ll meet you in the kitchen! Last one there is a rotten Keith!” He exclaims, his excited expression taking up the entire screen before it suddenly goes black, signaling the end of the connection. So Pidge immediately leaps up and races out of their Lion because Pidge can’t resist a challenge, even though they know they’ll likely end up being the loser because of Lance’s stupidly long legs and surprisingly ample stamina. But Pidge puts up a respectable fight, they almost crash into Lance in the hall and proceed to attempt to trip him. But Lance just laughs and leaps over Pidge’s so called “baby legs” before dancing away. Pidge watches Lance’s broad back as they chase him to the kitchen. As much of a... Lance as Lance can be he’s still very important to Pidge. Important...in the same way that Matt is.
Pidge is suddenly struck with the memory of Matt in his last few years at the Garrison before graduating. In that time, Matt became a hot commodity (much to his pleasure). Because not only was Matthew Holt a skilled technician and comms specialist but he was also the son of the revered Dr. Samuel Holt, one of the more prestigious Professors at the Garrison. Pilots and Engineers alike went after Matt like starving wolves his last year, looking to up their own careers through him. So Pidge was no stranger to beating off undesirables and suitors, but this was still Lance. Lance who always made it a point to invade Pidge’s work space once a day, who badgered Pidge about their latest project, who...always brought Pidge a snack whenever they stopped by, who offered a blanket and water pouch when it started getting late and Pidge couldn’t be persuaded to go to their room, who usually carried Pidge to a couch whenever they couldn’t convince them to retreat to their own bed for the night.
That’s right…
Lance always looked out for Pidge.
Tried to be there for Pidge.
Lance wasn’t just Pidge’s friend, he was their brother.
“Ha!” Lance suddenly cheered from in front of Pidge. Pidge’s eyes followed up the line of Lance’s body to his head where they were met with the sight of his brightly grinning face. “Better luck next time Pidgeotto.” He says excitedly as he slides to the kitchen counter and begins pawing through a drawer for water pouches. Pidge remains silent, taking in the sight of Lance’s relaxed smile as he punches a straw through two of the water packets, holding one out for Pidge to accept. Pidge does so wordlessly, blindly attempting to maneuver the straw into their mouth. Lance must find their attempt amusing as he snickers and pointedly takes a long sip before choking and dropping the packet on the floor where it explodes in a watery mess. Pidge grins as Lance bends over and begins hacking.
‘He’s such an idiot’ Pidge thinks absently as they make no move to help Lance and instead prop themselves up on the counter, distractedly swinging their legs back and forth as Lance coughs. ‘But he’s our idiot’ Pidge thinks fondly as Lance regains control of his breathing and begins whining at the mess he now has to clean up.
Pidge’s mind returns them to the expressions the Galra had worn just as Lance bid them a cheerful goodbye earlier that day and suddenly Pidge’s grip tightens enough to begin spilling water from their own pouch.
‘They can’t have him.’ Pidge thinks fiercely. ‘They can’t take Lance too.’
Pidge clutches the water in their hand tighter, their knuckles slowly turning white as water begins quickly dribbling out and over their hand, then onto the floor. ‘I’ll protect him.’ Pidge determines. ‘If they want to take him like they took Matt then they’re gunna have to go through me first’
“Pidge!” Lance suddenly screams, starting Pidge. “I just cleaned there!”