Fake Mistletoe | Plance

9 (Hunk)

We woke up on Christmas Eve to Kinkade filming Lance wrestling Keith into a two-person Christmas jumper, one side of which had 'Nice' knitted in, with 'sharpshooter' scrawled underneath in permanent marker. The 'Naughty' side had received the same treatment, but with 'and a terrible shot'.

"I Sharpied it in before we left," Lance explained, still struggling with Keith.

"Lance, I'm not wearing your stupid sweater!" Keith whined, all the while fighting Lance off him. "I'm not even a bad shot!" The pair were doing some kind of awkward dance around the room, breathless and sweaty. "And before you say 'it's for Pidge' again, I'm never letting you use that as an excuse again," he seethed. From behind his camera, Kinkade's expression became quite bemused.

"For Pidge? What do you mean?" Keith didn't answer, as Lance had succeeded in getting him into the jumper. He stood, fuming beside Lance in the 'Naughty and a terrible shot' side of the jumper.

"Pidge and Lance made a bargain. If Lance could get Keith to dance, Pidge would dance with him," I explained. "Evidently, he succeeded, considering how he and Pidge were on the dancefloor for hours and how much later he arrived at the bedroom compared to everyone else."

"Does it matter, Hunk?" Lance asked, his face red, either from his scrap with Keith or embarrassment. Probably both. "And why the hell is no one congratulating me? I got Keith to submit!"

"Congratulations, Lance. You fucking fought me to wear a jumper," Keith's voice was bitter, his face twisted into an intense scowl.

"And somehow, you didn't win," Lance grinned slyly.

"I think it's a pretty great jumper," James piped up, finally saying something. "You totally rock it," His eyes narrowed in amusement as he leant over the side of his bunk.

*

We went to breakfast, Lance feeling very triumphant, Keith extremely disgruntled. Lance dragged Keith to sit between Pidge and Kinkade, who was still armed with his camera.

"So, uh, Lance and Pidge, Hunk," Ryan leant over to see past Keith and catch Lance's attention. They snapped their heads up, giving each other a quick uneasy glance before facing Ryan. "So the other day you guys said one of you would take me out in a lion? I mean, no pressure, but I'd love to if the offer's still open,"

"Oh yeah! I can do it, day after tomorrow?" Lance piped up, leaning towards Kinkade, dragging Keith to some extent across the bench.

"How did you sleep, Allura?" I asked, turning away from Lance, Keith and Kinkade and to Allura who sat, eyeing the butter suspiciously.

"Quite well, thanks. And you? May I also ask what this unusual substance is?"

"I slept well too. And that's butter. It's made from milk," I explained, spreading some on my toast. "You can use it for a lot of things, so you can spread it on toast, put it in cakes, all sorts of things. It's pretty versatile," I munched through my toast as I spoke.

"All of the Earth food is quite bland to anything you'd find on Altea," Allura mused, sampling her toast and deciding it was adequate for consumption.

"I bet," I swallowed my toast, studying Lance and Pidge across the table, who were engaging in a hushed mumbled conversation, away from the prying eyes - and ears - of the others. Except me, it seemed. I stared at my friends, zoning out until Pidge cleared her throat.

"All okay, Hunk? You seemed distracted,"

"I'm fine, yeah. How was the dancing? Lance seemed pretty pleased with himself," I taunted, eyeing Lance smartly.

"It was... nice," Pidge paused slightly awkwardly. "Yeah, it was good," She said simply before changing the subject to nearby nebulae.

*

The day passed quickly, the buzz of Christmas in the air seemingly making hours crumble into mere minutes. The evening arrived, and everybody was on edge. So the day after was Christmas and everyone would be exchanging gifts, kissing under mistletoe and eating a dinner, which I'd volunteered to help prepare.

I had to practically force Lance into bed as he complained that he wanted to see if Santa visited spaceships, if he could even play Santa for everyone on board, or if he could 'at least' go add some decorations around the Atlas before it was actually Christmas.

I shushed him profusely, told him that everything would be fine in the morning, and switched off the lights. The only light that remained in the room was a string of fairy lights above Kinkade's bed.