Your Cheap Cologne

Wow man. I think you really fucked up.

Pidge walked home clutching her burnt hand. She didn't run like she had on the way to the building, or to the secondary location about half a mile away. She checked her phone for the time. Just after 1 a.m. The boys wouldn't be awake at this time. Hunk had work and Keith had class. Lance was probably out for the night.

Pidge walked slowly towards the dorm building, not in any rush to get home now. As she looked at the rain falling from the sky, she failed to notice Lance running to her.

"You're so fucking stupid!" he cried as he lifted her in a hug. Pidge's legs involuntarily wrapped around his torso and she cried into his shoulder. They stood like that in the doorway for a moment before Pidge pulled back and grabbed his face, pressing her forehead to his.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I just want them back," she added softly. Tears rolled down her cheeks, blending with the rain falling on her face.

"Let me see your hand," Lance demanded. She pulled away from him and he gingerly took her burnt hand.

"How did you know?" she asked sheepishly.

"The 'viewers' that guy was talking about? That was us. A link came up and we clicked it, and it took us to a live feed of what you were doing," Lance explained as he examined her hand. "Seems like you're willing to do almost anything."

The two walked back to the apartments, and after Pidge had calmed down and the adrenaline wore off, Pidge started to realize just how much her hand actually hurt. She tried to fight through the pain with somewhat of a joke.

"You should never click mysterious links. It's almost guaranteed to be a virus. Or something terrifying." She felt woozy though all the pain, and realized she might pass out.

"Lance," she whispered faintly. Lance's head whipped around to see that she had stopped walking, and was swaying where she stood.

"Pidge," he walked back towards her, "are you alright?"

Pidge opened her mouth to respond, and felt the airwaves leave her mouth, but no sound followed.

"Pidge!" Lance yelled as he ran to catch her. She collapsed into his arms.

"Pidge. Pidge?" Hunk waved his hand in front of her face.

"She's unconscious, man, she's not gonna respond," Keith scolded.

"She might? According to her, the best way to wake an unconscious person is to say something they would recognize, like their name," Hunk explained.

"Oh yeah? What word would wake you up?" Keith challenged.

Hunk thought for a minute. "Calzones."

"Really?"

Hunk nodded.

Lance hadn't spoken since he'd carried in an unconscious Pidge. He had sat on the couch with her, his arms wrapped protectively around her small body. He held her while Hunk and Keith performed a hasty, yet emergency first aid procedure on her hand.

By about three in the morning, both Keith and Hunk had gone to bed. They tried to convince Lance to leave Pidge and go to bed as well, but he refused, staring blankly at the deactivated television.

Lance finally started to doze off, allowing his head to fall and rest on Pidge's, but he was quickly shaken awake by Pidge shifting. She leaned in and rested the side of her head against Lance's chest and wrapped her arms around his torso. She was still fast asleep, but Lance couldn't help the blush rapidly creeping up his neck.

He allowed himself to sleep, knowing that Pidge had a level of consciousness, and wasn't in a coma, or worse. He could only think the worst when she collapsed, however.