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originalhybridloverfics · 3 years

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That We'll Always Be There For Each Other. Always - Shayveride Fic - Ch4

A/N: This is the last chapter I have written in this Fic

This is a repost by request.

Severide stood beside Shay's family, listening as Dr. Corbin informed them that Shay appeared to be suffering from a severe case of amnesia, not remembering any details about her life, her family or herself. Severide tried to listen carefully but as Dr. Corbin continued to speak it was like his words weren't completely reaching Severide anymore, his voice sounding far away, like it was trying to reach him through a long and narrowed tunnel, his thoughts overiding what the doctor was attempting to explain. "Will she ever remember?" he asked interrupting the doctor mid-sentenced, unable to keep his voice from cracking with emotion.

Megan, Shay's sister, glanced at him at the question before looking to the doctor expectantly. The same question had been at the tip of her tongue but she had manage to hold the words back but now that they were out there she wanted an answer.

"It's difficult to say. I don't want to give anyone any false hope." Dr. Corbin said carefully. "I need to run more test and get another CT scan before I can even determine the possibility of her chances of regaining even a portion of her memory.”

Severide's chest tighten, his gut churning, the doctor words were not the words he had been hoping to hear. The thought of Shay never remembering the memories she lost, her family, her life was nearly unthinkable. He definitely couldn't imagine her never remembering him. It was unfathomable.

"Do what you need to do." Victor Shay, Shay's father told the doctor immediately. "Do whatever you have to."

"Please just help our daughter." Donna Shay, Shay's mother pleaded, eyes filled with tears.

Dr. Corbin nodded. "We're going to run a few test first and then we're going to take her for the CT scan so we can get a look at the damage. All this may take up to a couple hours. We'll need you to wait in the waiting room until we're through."

Severide only nodded, slowly dragging his feet to the waiting room and sunk into the nearest hospital chair, leaning forward his back hunched over, bury his hands in his curls.

He felt more than saw as someone took the seat beside him and he didn't bother to lift his head until he felt a hand land lightly on his upper back, he raised his head, turning and looking over to see Megan watching him with sympathy.

He straightened causing her hand to fall away. "It's going to be okay, Kelly." she said quietly as she watched her parents take a seat a few chairs down, her father doing his best to comfort her mom which was strange since she hadn't seen her father do that since even before the divorce even if her parents weren't like most bitter divorce couples because it had been a mutual decision.

"You don't know that." Severide whispered in reply before he could stop himself.

"You're right, I don't know that." said Megan, her voice filled with emotion. "But I have to believe that because believing anything else at this point is just too painful to think about."

Severide remained quiet, unsure of where Megan or her parents were finding the strength to hold it together when he felt like he was on the verge of falling apart. He had been so relieved when Shay had woken up and he still was but that relief was tainted with the knowledge that she couldn't remember anything and the possibility that she might never recover those lost memories.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Severide, how's Shay?"

Severide looked up to see Dawson rapidly approaching him, he looked past her and saw the rest of the Fire House trailing at a slower place behind her.

But before he could answer her question Dawson noticed Megan sitting beside him. "Megan, hey." she moved toward the other woman giving her a welcoming hug. "How is Shay?" she asked again.

Megan had returned the embrace before answering. "Their running more test."

"I thought she woke up." said Casey, looking toward Severide. "What's wrong?"

"She doesn't remember." Severide said hollowly, vaguely realizing he had forgotten to call them about Shay's amnesia diagnosis.

"She doesn't remember what happened?" Boden asked, a deep frown in place.

Severide shook his head. "She doesn't remember anything."

"I'm sorry, what?" Dawson's brow furrowed in confusion.

Severide let Megan tell them about Shay's amnesia choosing to remain silent only looking up when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"It's going to be alright, Severide." Boden told him. "Shay's strong, she'll get through this and we'll be there to help her."

Severide nodded in response and Boden gave his shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before finding a chair to sit planning on waiting with Shay's family and Severide since the current fire house shift was over.

"He's right, Shay's tough and incredibly stubborn, if anyone can over come this it's Shay." Herman nodded at Severide, moving to take a seat next to the chief, slowly everyone following suit, finding a seat amongst the waiting room, intending to wait with Shay's family.

Severide glanced around at his fire house family, the most important core member absent, having test after test run on her, and it was like a fist tightening around his heart. He ran a hand shakily down his face, breathing in deeply, trying to compose himself.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

They all stood up when Dr. Corbin walked into the waiting room and approached Mr. and Mrs. Shay. The doctor immediately begun relaying what they were able to learn from the test they ran and the CT scan. The blow that Shay had tooken and the pressure placed on her brain from hemorrhaging seemed to cause enough damage to create a severe case of amnesia. From what they were able to gather, Shay was unable to remember any details of her life but she was able to remember basic motorskills and facts.

"And the chances of her regaining her memory." asked Mr. Shay.

"I am very hopeful that there's a possibility for her to recover all her memories, if not pieces of her life should come back to her slowly in fragments over a period of time." answered Dr. Corbin. "Now I can't guarantee any of this but it's better to think on the positive side and most importantly not to pressure her."

Severide wanted to latch onto whatever little possibility there was that Shay would regain her memory because he couldn't fathom the idea of her not remembering she was his best friend, the one person he couldn't imagine his life without. "How is she?"

"She's resting now." answered Dr. Corbin. "The test were mentally draining, she'll sleep for a bit but you're free to sit with her." he glanced at everyone around the waiting room. "Unless your family try to limit visitors two at time." The hospital had already been making exceptions with the Shay family and Severide allowing them all to be in the room at the same time. "I think it be best not to overwhelm her with too many visitors when she wakes up everything is already pretty confusing for her as it is." Dr. Corbin advised.

"All of us our family." stated Boden firmly.

Dr. Corbin's eyes traveled over all of them slowly, he smiled faintly in understandably. "Very well, just don't over crowd her bedside, you wouldn't want to overwhelm her too much."

Mrs. Shay started asking the doctor more questions as Severide stood from his seat and without a word to anyone made his way through the hospital halls back to Shay's room.

He entered her room, walking slowly to the chair beside her hospital bed and sunk into it, running his hands tiredly down his face before allowing them to drop and resting his eyes on Shay's sleeping from, his hand lifted automatically toward her hand that laid of the bed and when it was just inches away he dropped his hand back into his lap, tendons tensing. It felt wrong somehow to take her hand in his when she didn't even remember who he was.

He sighed frustratedly, settling back in his chair, trying to decide on what to say to her for when she wakes up because just because she didn't remember him didn't mean he was going to stay away, he was going to help her through this anyway he could and hopefully help her regain her memories if at all possible.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Shay shifted on the bed as her eyes fluttered open, she glanced around the white hospital room confused for a moment, until everything came back to her from when she first woken up with not having any idea who she was. A couple days had passed since then, she was continuing her hospital stay under her doctor's advisement wanting to keep her there longer for observation.

She had more visitors than she was able to keep count of with her befuddled brain but she was able to keep track of the ones who were the most frequent. There was an older man, Herman something or other and his wife, then there was the woman around her age, Gabriella Dawson, there was her family, her sister, Megan, her father, Victor, her mother, Donna and than there was the man who was there just as much if not more than her supposed family. The same one who had been there the first time she woke up. Kelly Severide.

She didn't know what to make of him but then again she didn't know what to make of any of the people that her life seemed to be made up of. But him more so than others. He was always there when she woke up, sometimes he would be asleep in the chair and others he'd be awake, staring at her eyes filled with so much emotion but she couldn't even begin to name a single one of them.

She learned he was her best friend, they worked together, and were roommates but she couldn't shake the thought, the feeling that there was more than that. The way he would look at her when he thought she wasn't looking or paying attention or aware, it was like he was memorizing everything she did or said, almost like she was a single drop of water and he was a man dying of thirst.

But the thing was even though he looked at her the way he did with such single minded intensity, he kept his distance, never really reaching out to her at least not physically. It was a relief though. Since waking up she had people at her bedside all the time and even though she didn't remember them or her relationship with any of them that didn't stop them from being affectionate with her, physically, overly affectionate if you asked her, touching her hand, trailing a hand down her arm, gripping her shoulder, their hand skimming over the top of her head, fingers running through her hair, cupping her face, hugging her.

Everyone was all just very over affectionate, touchy-feely, almost overwhelming with their near constant stepping in on her personal space making her feel uncomfortable with having these strangers who she was supposed to know always hovering but not Kelly Severide. No he was careful not to overwhelm her, not to encroach on her space or touch her, he was just there, a quiet companion at her bedside, willing to answer any and all her questions, seeming to hold zero expectations from her other than allowing him to just sit at her side.

Honestly he was her favorite visitor by far. Other than his very intense gaze almost always on her he was the one person who she wasn't feeling pressured from to remember her life or the people in it. It made it so easy to be around him and feel at ease. His presence soothing in its constant.

Currently, it was just the two of them in her room as her sister and parents had stepped out, her father fielding some business call or another and her sister and mother went off in search of some decent coffee or something or other.

She flipped through the channels on the TV mindlessly and Kelly was looking at the local newspaper. She settled on some sports channel, oddly enough before eyes wandered over to him, where he was just turning a page over and folding half of the paper. "Anything interesting going on?"

"Huh?" Kelly looked over the newspaper at her his brow furrowing in honest confusion.

"The paper?" she clarified, nodding her head toward the paper.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." he shook his head. "But you can take a look yourself if you want."

"No that's okay." she gave a shake of her head. "I'll take your word for it."

Shay was quiet for a momont, glancing at him every few seconds, she was beginning to wonder if he had things to do other than keep her company. He was always at her bedside. "Don't you have things to do?"

"Yes." answered Severide and flashed her a smile. "Like sitting here and reading the paper while you watch the sports channel."

"That sounds oh so interesting." she said dryly.

Severide fought back a smile. The snarky dry comment was so his best friend and it gave him hope even if it was just a small thing like her snarky witty humor.

"One would think you had better things to do." continued Shay. "I mean don't you have a life?" The words were out before she could consider how rude and blunt she sounded but she found she didn't really care as she watched him expectantly. Maybe before her head injury she was a blunt person who spoke her mind without considering if it came out too rude or not.

Severide looked at her, his lips twitching trying to keep from laughing and failing to do as a laugh escaped him. "Yes, I have a life." he shook his head in pure amusement.

Shay felt her lips tugging up in the corners with her own smile, surprised by his laughter but finding she liked the sound of it. She was glad he seemed more amused by her words than offended. "What is it then?"

"Currently, gracing you with my amazing company." grinned Severide.

Shay rolled her eyes but smiled none the less, feeling at ease, just enjoying talking with Kelly. She didn't remember him but even she could sence, feel the easy comaderie between them and it wasn't hard for her to see or believe that they were best friends. So far he was the only one who made her feel like things were okay even though her amnesia made things overly complicated and more difficult than they should be.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Your injury seems to be healing fairly well." Dr. Corbin announced after her daily check up, her family and Severide stood on one side of the bed and Dr. Corbin stood on the other with a nurse beside him. "We'll be able to discharge you in a few days."

"I think with your memory loss you should move back home." Donna, her mother said, looking to her daughter. "At least for a little while."

"Back to San Francisco?" asked Shay, she didn't know why but she didn't like the idea and she didn't understand it.

Severide frowned. "But her home is here in Chicago."

"But she doesn't remember her life here." Donna stated.

"She doesn't remember her life there either." Kelly's frown deepened, his jaw tensing.

Shay glanced back and forth between the two as they disagreed.

"Her family is in San Francisco. She doesn't have any here." insisted Donna, normally she liked Severide but in this instance he was getting in her way and that she didn't like. "We can help her, be there for her."

"She has family here." Severide said firmly. "The men and women who make up the firehouse 51 are family. I am her family. Just because none of us don't share a blood connection doesn't matter. We love her just as much as you do." he spoke passionately, his eyes lit with conviction.

"I think I know what's best for my daughter." snapped Donna.

"Do you?" asked Severide. "Because I'm the one whose been there for the last couple years."

Donna opened her mouth to retaliate but Megan interrupted her before she could. "I think that's enough, this isn't about what we want, it's about what is best for Leslie."

"How about we take a moment and ask Leslie what she wants?" asked Victor, eyes going to his daughter. "What do you want to do, sweetheart?"

"I.." Shay trailed off, seeing them all looking to her expectantly, her mother reaching out and taking her hand, Kelly looking at her with blue eyes, his gaze intense, her sister looking at her encouraging and her father waiting patiently. She shifted in the bed, feeling pressured. "I don't know." She glanced at her mother than back to Severide and then back to her mother, feeling torn. On one hand Donna was her mother but on the other she felt more at ease when she was around Severide. "I don't know." she muttered.

"I think it would be best if you don't chnage anything about your life." Dr. Corbin interjected. "We want your memory to come back and I believe the best way to do that is to continue living your life the way you were. The familiraity might just trigger something, even if it's just small little details."

"So I should stay here in Chicago?" asked Shay questionly, admittedly it did sound more appealing because that meant Severide would be there.

"Yes, I believe that to be best for you right now." Dr. Corbin nodded. "And if you find it too difficult than you could return home with your parents but for now it'll be best if you return to your home here."

Shay nodded. "Then I'll stay here in Chicago." with Severide. It went unsaid but it made her feel reassured knowing she'd still have him as long as she was in Chicago.

The tension left Severide's shoulders with the decision, relieved Shay would be staying but even if she had chosen to go back to San Francisco he would have went with her. He would have uprooted his entire life to follow her. He would follow her anywhere.

Tags: @paws-in-the-night

#chicago fire #severide and shay #shayveride fic #shayveride #leslie shay #kelly severide #fanfic

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onpointedfeetandbrokendreams · 5 years

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Happy Holidays @zenzenzence !! I was your Secret Santa for @voltronsecretsanta2k18 ! I hope you’ll like this <3

Rating: G

Summary: After the War is over, everyone has moved on with their life, found a job helping the Universe maintain its newfound peace. Pidge works as a scientist on Earth with her family and loves her job more than anything, but there is just one little thing missing.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Post-canon, Canon Divergence, Spoiler Free, No Warnings Apply.

The cafeteria was almost empty. It was late at night but Pidge had lost the notion of time experimenting with some new crystals the Alteans had brought during their last visit to Earth. She sighed, moving the spoon aimlessly in the now cold bowl of soup. Things were simpler now that the War was over, they weren’t threatened by some new Galra at any given moment, they weren’t constantly fighting or running, but they were also lonelier. Everyone was doing their best to make sure peace was maintained everywhere. Allura, Romelle and Coran traveled around the Galaxies offering their help when needed, sometimes joined by Krolia and her Blades. Hunk had moved to Balmera, to work as an ambassador and be with his girlfriend Shay. He visited quite often but it was not the same. As for Keith, Lance and Shiro, they were living the dream of their life, working as pilots for the now intergalactic Galaxy Garrison. Which left her on Earth with her family. She was a scientist, and she loved her job more than anything, but sometimes, just sometimes, she thought back to when it was just the seven of them in the Castle of Lions, running away from Zarkon, discovering new alien civilizations and technologies. It was scary, true, but there were also the laughs, the friendships, the bond that only sharing such an intense experience can create.

“See? We are safely back! Told you that bringing an alien with us was the best way to be sure not to be abducted,” a loud boisterous voice interrupted her musings.

“Ugh, you made this joke at least two hundred times in the past months. Shiro, please, end my misery and kill me, or take him away from me. I don’t want to see him for at least one year now!” Another voice replied.

Shiro. The name made a spark of something light and warm crackle in her chest. She turned and saw the three pilots walking slowly along the corridor, still in their armors, with tired expressions, ruffled hair and their helmets in their hands.

“Keithy boy, you wound me. I thought we were pals! Buddies?” The first voice replied.

Lance.

They were back.

She didn’t realize she was running towards the door, until she collapsed face first into the glass it was made of with a thump.

“Pidge? Oh my god, is that you?” Lance said peeking from the other side. “You are taller!”

“Seriously, Lance? You haven’t seen her in ages and the thing you go with is ‘you are taller’?” Keith teased and moved to open the door to help her. When she confirmed she was okay, her attention returned to the three of them.

“Hey!” She said awkwardly, trying to tame the embarrassment of her entrance. “How are you guys? How was the mission?”

“We are fine, thank you Pidge, it’s good to see you!” Shiro replied, opening his arms for a hug. She happily went and let the contact linger before turning to offer the same greeting to the others. She had just been thinking about how much she had missed them.

“Now I’d better go and separate these two before they give me another headache with their bickering,” Shiro continued. “Seriously, how could I think it was a good idea to choose them for the same team.”

Pidge chuckled. “Don’t even try that, Shiro, I know you love them.”

“Yeah, I really do…” Shiro said, squeezing both Keith and Lance with his arms as they squeaked. “But after eight long months alone with them, I need a vacation. Or ten. Keith, let’s go, come on. Say hi.”

“And don’t forget our date tomorrow, Keithy,” Lance called with a wink as the two began to walk away, waving at them.

Keith groaned but nodded and gave him a thumbs up before turning away.

“You two are exactly the same,” Pidge commented, shaking her head.

Lance smiled fondly. “You don’t change a winning team. And he is a very good friend, I know he doesn’t mean it when he says that he wants to kill me... Probably.” He shrugged. “By the way, what are you doing here? My sense of time might be a bit fuzzy right now but isn’t it a bit late to be at work?

“I got caught up finishing an experiment, I was just eating something at the cafeteria before I go home.” Then, more hushed, she added. “But I’m glad I got to see you.”

She blushed, looking away and hoping he didn’t hear.

“CAFETERIA! What a magic word!” He raised his hands, eyes so wide and shining he looked right out of a comic book. “Oh yes, please, Earth food!”

With a relieved breath, Pidge laughed at his antics. “Don’t you want to have a shower? Or go home?”

“Yes but, REAL FOOD,” Lance replied.

“Ok, fine, come, you can use my card.”

“You are a real angel, Pidge.”

“Yes, yes, whatever.”

They went back to Pidge’s table and Lance jumped from one foot to the other, looking at the admittedly not so small selection the place offered, the Garrison had an amazing cafeteria when compared to other workplaces. Pidge couldn’t help but smile to herself despite knowing she would regret giving him free access to her meal card as she threw away the forgotten soup and waited for him to order.

He came back carrying three full trays of food. Pasta, sandwiches, salad, fries and at least three different cakes. Pidge gave him a pointed look, raising an eyebrow to which he retorted, almost looking offended, “Eight months, Pidge. Don’t you remember how awful the food goo was?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He rubbed his hands and began to stuff his mouth with the content of the first tray, asking between mouthfuls if Pidge wanted to taste anything.

At first, she refused, too amused by the content expression he was wearing while savoring each dish, then she remembered she was technically paying for all of that and joined in.

“So, anything interesting happened while I was away?” Lance asked, laying back on his chair and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, signaling he wasn’t asking about work or politics.

Pidge huffed. “Not really… I mean, Hunk will probably ask Shay to marry him before the end of the year but it was kind of expected… Other than that, I don’t really know much about the others. The last time Allura visited, it was only to ask us to run some tests on these crystals they found.”

She looked away, trying not to flinch at the mention of Allura’s name. It was probably the one he was most interested in hearing but it never stopped stinging a bit.

“Oh, yeah, we met them at a Marmoran base a couple of quintants ago, Coran was so excited about those.” He leaned on his hand over the table to meet her eyes. “What about you?”

“Me? Well, there’s not much to say, I’m a workaholic, I don’t really have time to go out.”

“And you tell me that I haven’t changed a bit,” Lance shook his head with a small smile on his lips. “Well then, to pay you back for this dinner, I will take you out before I leave for my next mission. You need to take breaks sometimes, it’s important for your skin. And your health in general, of course.”

“Hm… Okay?” She replied, not completely sure this was a good idea. But she knew how stubborn Lance was and there was no way she could avoid something he had set his mind to.

“Good!” He commented, louder than was necessary in the little space between them, he was probably starting to feel the exhaustion for the mission. “I am busy tomorrow but we can go the day after? I know just the perfect place!”

“Oh, right. Your date with Keith… Is there something I don’t know? Did you finally stop running after Allura like a smitten puppy?” She said with a smirk.

“What?? I haven’t been hitting on Allura since… Come on, that was just plain rude. But for your information, no there’s nothing you don’t know, my ‘date’” - he accentuated the word making air quotes with his fingers - “is just a little tradition we have, meet for dinner the day after the mission to talk about what went wrong and what we can improve. It’s for team building, and because our view on things is basically the opposite, so we can compensate one another, like pieces of an engine.”

“Wow that’s… Incredibly mature of you,” Pidge commented before she could think about what she was implying with her surprised tone. “Sorry, I… Didn’t mean it like that.”

Lance just shrugged. “No, it’s okay. I get it. But we have all come a long way since we were four lost kids and a Shiro thrown out into Space, right?”

“Yeah, we have.”

She was lost in her thoughts for a quiet moment, the wave of nostalgia hitting her for the second time that night, until she spotted something over Lance’s last tray that brought her back to the present, especially because she was completely sure it wasn’t in the cafeteria’s selection.

“Are those peanut butter cookies??”

Lance’s eyes widened as he scratched the back of his neck. “Hm… Yeah… They were in the menu and…”

“No, they were not! I would know, I come here every day.”

“You’re right. You are always too smart to me,” he said with an odd tone Pidge couldn’t quite decipher. “I found them at a Space Mall, you can have them, if you want.”

“Thank you!” She grabbed the packet and took one of the biscuits, smiling gratefully. “They are so good!”

“I’m glad you like them,” he smiled. “I’d better go now, thank you for keeping me company and for, you know,” he motioned for the now empty trays.

“Anytime. That’s what friends are for, stealing food from them while remembering the good old times,” she laughed, munching on another cookie.

“Yeah… Good night, Pidgey.”

***

Pidge, most definitely, didn’t spend the entire day trying to decide what to wear for her evening with Lance. They were just friends and her appearance didn’t matter, especially considering he had known her since she was pretending to be a Garrison student, dressed as a boy with messed and awfully-cut hair and Matt’s glasses. There was no way he would make a fuss about it now. Still, she didn’t remember another time in which the two of them had gone out alone together on purpose. That was the only reason why she was a little on edge, it would have been the same with Keith, or Romelle.

It was also true that, especially after the Meme Kingdom incident - meaning, that one time just after the end of the War when Matt and Lance accidentally discovered their mutual passion for vines and everything related and fell platonically in love with one another - they had gotten incredibly closer, more than she was with the others, except for Matt and Hunk, of course. So she had absolutely no reason to be nervous.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at her reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time. Her hair was still short but the cut was a lot more defined than it used to and her glasses were now the correct size. She was wearing light jeans and a nice green shirt with leaves embroidered around the neck. It was warm outside, so she only carried a light white jacket over her shoulders for good measure. Nothing too fancy but not too sloppy either.

When the bell rang, she petted her dog, checking everything was in order one last time before going out.

“Hey!” Lance greeted with a warm smile.

“Hi.”

“So, I wanted to borrow my mother’s car? Because it would have been more comfortable and all but… She said she didn’t trust me with it. I am one of Earth’s best pilots, my job is quite literally to drive things, yet she didn’t trust me with her car.” He complained, sounding like he still didn’t believe it. “Anyway, since I couldn’t take the car, I had to come up with something last minute and” - he moved to the side, revealing the hoverbike parked behind him - “I borrowed this. My friend assured me it’s perfectly safe.”

“By ‘your friend’ you mean Keith? Because I’m not sure I would trust him when it comes to safety.”

Lance ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m sorry, we can walk and go somewhere else, it’s just… I really wanted to show you this place and I didn’t know where to find another car in such a short time.” He looked so unsure, Pidge almost regretted complaining.

“It’s okay, I trust you to be careful and not kill me. We both know Matt would never forgive you if you do,” she smirked, making him chuckle.

“True, he would probably skin me alive or something. But thank you for your trust. Let’s go?”

Pidge nodded, following him to the bike and sitting with her hands securely to his side. “Ready whenever you are.”

Lance threaded his way among the traffic, driving smoothly and with ease and soon they reached their destination. When he stopped, Pidge jumped down with a big grin plastered on her face from the adrenaline of the speed, which only grew bigger when she took notice of the place they were in front of.

“What is this?” She asked in awe.

Lance put their helmets back in the small trunk of the bike and returned her smile. “It’s new. It opened just before I left for the mission so I couldn’t tell you before but I was sure you would like it.”

“Yes, I love it! Let’s go, I want to see the rest. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Okay, sure,” Lance chuckled as she sprinted towards the door. There was a sign above it, reading The Steampunk Coffee, lit in a green light and surrounded by pieces of engines, wheels and cogs that swirled when she opened.

“This is so amazing,” she could feel her cheeks warm and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Wait until you see the tables!” Lance yelled.

And he was right. They sat at a corner and ordered two very colorful drinks with names like Geoffrey Bernard, or Joshua Gideon, or whatever, she could barely read, rapt as she was. The table was a large glass plate with all different kinds of tools glued to the bottom, from writing utensils, to watches, to lamps, to a mechanical keyboard.

“I’m glad you like it,” Lance smiled, and in the dim light of the shop, it looked so soft Pidge’s heart skipped a beat. She had known she had feelings for him for a very long time already, from when they still where the Paladins of Voltron running around the Universe, and she had come to accept it and mastered the art of hide and ignore to almost perfection.

Key-word being almost.

She sipped idly at her drink trying to search her brain for anything to start a conversation with and coming up empty-handed.

“So, what are you working on, right now? Except for the crystal?” The voice reached her like it was coming from under-water but the words felt like a lifeline. Work, that was something she could talk about for ages. Safe, easy, harmless.

So she did. Delved into all the details of her new project and asked him about the mission, how it was going with the team, which new planets they had visited. A known territory. Something they had shared for many years and they were both still passionate about. From there, the conversation flew to the most disparate topics without a hitch. Smooth, comfortable, interesting. She didn’t notice how fast the time was passing until the bartender signaled they were about to close.

When she said goodbye and closed the door to her home, Pidge slumped down on the floor, her traitorous brain working a mile a minute with different scenarios, all equally unattainable. It made her unable to focus, or find the will to walk to her bedroom and try to sleep. That night, everything had been perfect but nothing had changed, they were still friends, Lance still didn’t return her feelings and come the following day, she would have to fall back on her usual routine of hide, ignore, accept.

***

Logically, Pidge knew she was acting childishly. Avoid talking to Lance wasn’t a solution she could use in the long term. Not only because it was weird for their friends but because she didn’t want to lose him. She just needed more time, to forget how warm and happy she had felt after their ‘date’, stop her heart from fluttering in her chest just at the thought of him.

Maybe their new mission was the perfect opportunity. He would be away for weeks, or months, and she would get to see Hunk, the only person who knew about the whole… thing. So that when they would come back, she could act normally around him again.

She walked to the hangar without really thinking, letting her feet carry her along the familiar path. She had said goodbye to her father and brother there all those years ago and, after the War, she had said goodbye to so many people, so many times from that same place. She thought about what Keith said, about going with them. It was true the Garrison treated the five of them differently, considering the part they had played in saving the Universe, so they would probably agree, but she had a job to do. She wouldn’t let missing her friends or anything else get in the way of that. The experiments they were running on Earth were just as important as any space mission and even if they were gradually teaching other people to deal with Altean technology and crystals, everyone still relied on her father and her when it came to important decisions or risky operations.

So she wished good luck, promised to give Hunk a hug for them all and asked to call when they could. Then, she left them to finish their packing and went back to the cafeteria. It almost felt like a deja-vu. She sat at the table she had shared with Lance the previous week, her finger grazing the smooth surface and a small smile playing on her lips.

It was going to be okay.

“Don’t you think there is something missing?”

Pidge froze, recognizing the voice.

“What are you doing here?” She asked and slowly raised her head in time to see Lance scratch the back of his neck with his hand, looking sheepish.

“I kinda wanted to see Hunk? And between Keith and Matt and… You know, I didn’t get to spend much time with my family? Plus, I’ve never asked for a vacation since the end of the War and… Shiro said this mission is easy so they won’t probably need me.”

Pidge raised a suspicious eyebrow. “You hate it when you feel like Shiro and Keith treat you as the third wheel in the team, what are you hiding?”

“I… Ugh, fine. I hated leaving things hanging between us like that. I know we are just friends and everything, but I thought… Did I do something wrong? Didn’t you enjoy yourself at the Steampunk Coffee? Because I don’t even know how I got the courage to ask you out that day? It was the atmosphere, you were buying me food and we were laughing so I just… Didn’t think much and did it? But then at Matt’s you wouldn’t even look at me and I just” - he shut his mouth abruptly and shook his head - “Sorry, this is probably stupid. I must have read the situation completely wrong. I’ll go home now. I’m really sorry, it must have been wishful thinking, I’m so stupid.”

He turned, starting to walk away before Pidge could even blink. She was struggling quite a lot to process everything he had just said but there wasn’t time for that now.

“Please, stop!” She called and before she could second-guess herself, she took his hand in her own. “You didn’t do anything wrong, it was perfect. I was the one who didn’t want to be delusional.” She looked intently at her shoes to avoid eye-contact.

“Delusional? Why would you be-”, he stopped, probably as realization hit him. Pidge dared a side glance to see his expression and the way he was beaming was blinding.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, just to be sure.

His grip on her hand tightened. “Really? You like me too? What, how, when… Why?”

He looked so insecure but hopeful, she couldn’t help her mind from conjuring the word adorable. She laughed, taking a step closer. “Since forever, I think. How can I not?”

“We are such disasters. I thought you liked Keith! He told me it wasn’t true but...”

“And I thought you liked Allura!” She retorted, before the meaning of his words really registered. “Wait, Keith? Why Keith?”

“You go on for hours talking about your cryptids and you even planned to go on a trip together once!”

“Yes, because we are very good friends and you all don’t like talking about that stuff so we leave you out of it. Unlike you and Matt,” she added the last part a bit sarcastically, offering a playful smirk.

Lance chuckled. “Yeah, you are right.” He tapped his finger lightly over the back of her hand, his smile becoming tentative and shy. “So... Would you like to go on a proper date with me?”

She took another step, pressing her head to his chest. “How is that even a question,” she said into his shirt and when he laughed in response, the sound reverberated through his chest, sounding so free, unhindered, it made her feel impulsive for the second time that day, and probably even in her life. She looked up at him with all the affection she had never let her eyes show, years of longing, hoping, hiding.

“Yes, me too,” he whispered, before brushing his lips first over her forehead then her nose.

And there’s that saying that things come in threes, right? So it was no wonder that Pidge’s brain decided to shut down once again that day, letting her make another impulsive decision as she shifted her weight to the tips of her toes. Lance’s eyes widened considerably when he realized what she was about to do but he made no move to stop it. If anything, he pressed closer.

The taste, the warmth of his skin and his scent enveloped her and, in that moment, she knew that even if she had had to wait for ten, or even twenty years more, it would have still been worth it.

#plance #vld #voltron secret santa #vld pidge #vld lance #voltron post canon #spoiler free #happy holidays #nigg writes

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lazyfox411 · 7 years

Text

A fic to celebrate one of the most important days of the year

Y’all know what day it is...our favorite blue paladin’s birthday!!!! so to celebrate this (should be) international holiday, here is the first chapter to a fic, starring Lance as a journalist, and Keith as a police officer, also featuring shay and the rest of team voltron (except pidge who will be introduced in a later chapter don't worry guys I didn't forget about her). tagging @hastalalaterkeith7152 for letting me bounce ideas off you and also practically forcing me to write this :) length for this chapter is about 3780 words. please guys tell me what you think of this. would you like to see more chapters?

Chapter 1: Late

Routine was a pivotal function of life. It provided structure, organization, and better time management, which were all qualities of successful people. That was why Lance McClain began nearly every day in the same fashion. Wake up, make coffee, drink coffee, read the newspaper, shower, brush teeth, get dressed, go to work. Simple. Very difficult to screw up. Yet somehow, this particular morning had so easily gone to mush.

“I’m late, I’m late, I'm late,” Lance stumbled through his apartment like a drunk, coffee mug in one hand, car keys in the other, and toothbrush hanging from his mouth. He hastily stuffed the keys in his pocket and vigorously finished scrubbing his teeth clean.

“Late, late, late, late. So late. So so so late.” The word had taken on a whole new meaning when he'd awoken to find he'd slept through his alarm. Life at the office was already hard enough without Allura lecturing him for being tardy.

One glance at his watch told Lance that reading the paper would have to wait. He grabbed the roll of print from outside his doorway and lobbed it towards his desk. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know what was in there; working as a journalist for the Altean Times, the city’s largest newspaper company, gave him access to news stories before they were even published. Reading the paper was more of a hobby than anything else, an easy activity to fill the empty time slice of his morning routine.

Still juggling keys, coffee, and now his backpack, Lance rushed down the stairs of his apartment complex, leaving a bemused doorman in the dust as he made a beeline for his car.

The only time he strayed from his morning routine was to pay an occasional visit to the Yellow Lion Café, owned by his best friend, Hunk. Since Lance only got paid for his articles when the newspaper selected them for publishing—which, admittedly, wasn’t as often as he'd like—his job at the Altean Times didn’t always rake in the dough. So, Hunk had offered him part-time shifts at the café to ensure he could pay the bills and afford to eat more than Kraft Dinner and stale donuts from the office cafeteria. Hunk was more than happy to have an extra pair of hands working the register, and Lance was more than happy for the employee discount. But there was no time to stop at the Yellow Lion today.

There wasn’t much traffic once he hit the freeway, and Lance couldn’t have been more thankful. All he needed was for some little old lady going 80 kilometers an hour to slow him down. Then again, Lance’s own car, practically falling apart at the seams, was usually pushing its limits at the speed limit of 100. But this was okay. No traffic. No stops to make. On the way to work. Maybe he wouldn’t be as late as he thought. Or maybe not.

“Shit,” Lance muttered. Behind him, cruising down the road, a set of red and blue lights had just turned on. He pulled over and waited. Why had he been stopped? He didn’t have time for this, not to mention cops scared him half to death. They were nice enough, to him at least, but still. They were intimidating.

When the officer finally stepped out of the car, Lance nearly choked on his own breath. All hopes of charming his way out of the situation were immediately bulldozed. This wasn’t just any cop, this was Officer Kogane, revered and feared by the entire city for his stoic demeanor and ruthless attitude towards criminals. Officer Kogane, who’d broken up countless bar fights, busted robberies, led manhunts, raced down streets in breakneck car chases, and liked his coffee jet black like his hair. Lance would know; Kogane was at the Yellow Lion almost every morning with his partner, Officer Shirogane. Lance tried not to think about how much he'd tried to avoid taking Kogane’s order, claiming he had to fix the coffee machine and sending Hunk to the counter. He would have much preferred Officer Shirogane pull him over. Kogane was downright scary.

Lance rolled down the window and tapped a finger against the steering wheel, over and over again, as Kogane made his way to the car.

“Good morning,” Kogane said, absentmindedly scribbling something down on a notepad. “Do you now why I pulled you over?”

Lance had expected the police officer’s voice to take on a gruff and surly tone, angry at Lance for whatever he'd done wrong. But instead, it was friendly, or at the very least, polite.

Lance swallowed hard. “Um…not really, no,” he replied.

“Are you aware of how fast you were driving?”

“Uh, no. No, sir.”

“I picked up 120.”

“Oh,” was all Lance could manage. He looked down at the speedometer, the little needle at zero now that the car was parked. He hadn’t noticed he'd been speeding. He hadn’t thought his wreck of a car was capable of speeding.

“I’m going to need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance.”

“Sure, no problem,” Lance said, trying to act as nonchalant as Kogane was, pretending he wasn’t panicking because oh no now he was going to have some sort of police record and he'd never been in trouble with the cops his whole life and he didn’t even want to think of the ticket he was going to get. He could barely afford rent, how on earth was he going to pay a speeding fine?

“Alright, I'm going to run these through the system, it’ll just take a minute,” Kogane assured, striding back to his squad car. Dozens of other vehicles whizzed by, free to go about their day. And here was Lance, stuck on the side of the road, late for work.

I don’t have a minute, Lance thought sourly, I'm already late.

The officer returned wearing a slightly puzzled expression. “Lance McClain,” he said, carefully inspecting Lance’s driver’s license. “Hm. Have we met before?”

“I work at the Yellow Lion Café, in town,” Lance said quickly. “I think I’ve seen you there a few times.” He didn’t mention anything about the Altean Times. He couldn’t. Because there was one other place Kogane might recognize him from, and it was the most embarrassing experience of his life. A press conference, when he'd still been a journalism student. His very first time interviewing somebody, for real. And he just had to go up to Officer Keith Kogane and ask him for his opinion. And then proceed to stumble over every single word, butcher his questions, drop his notebook, then his pen, and to top it all off, have his voice completely fail him and stand there like an idiot, mouth agape.

Kogane just nodded, and Lance couldn’t have been more relieved. As long as he didn’t remember that interview, then Lance would be fine. But haunting memories were still creeping up on Lance, and he found himself speaking in a rush, “Listen, I really didn’t mean to be speeding, it’s just I'm late for work, and it’s been a hectic morning, and I really can’t afford a ticket right now, and—”

“This thing really passed inspection?” Kogane interrupted, taking in the full view of Lance’s poor car.

“Uh, yeah,” Lance said, surprised. “Barely,” he added, because frankly, you wouldn’t be able to tell otherwise. The rust spots and chips in the blue paint, coupled with a plethora of dents and scratches, gave it the appearance of a scruffy stray cat, but in car form. Add that to the peeling rubber around the windows, unhealthy engine noises, and the fact that thick strips of duct tape were currently the only thing holding his headlights in place…well, Lance himself was surprised that the car wasn’t breaking down every five minutes.

“Well, Lance,” Officer Kogane turned away from the pitiful sight of the car, “I'm going to let you off with a warning. But only because you make the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

Lance let out a shaky sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Just be careful.”

“Yes sir.”

“Lance, where have you been?” Coran exclaimed when Lance finally arrived in their shared office.

“Don’t ask,” Lance groaned. “Is Allura mad at me yet?”

“Actually, I don’t think she’ll be in until this afternoon,” Coran said, twirling a finger through his luxurious mustache. “She’s in a meeting across town.”

“Good. Hey, what are you working on?” Lance asked, peering over Coran’s shoulder to see his computer screen.

“It’s an article of Shay’s. Allura selected it to be published next week.”

“Coran! How could you?” Lance feigned indignance. “You know Shay is, like, my mortal enemy in the world of reporting!”

“Lance, just because everyone likes her articles more than yours doesn’t mean she’s your ‘mortal enemy’.”

“Coran!” Lance was actually slightly offended this time. “Hurtful!”

“I’m sorry, my boy. Just trying to razz you! Don’t worry, your writing is excellent. I think you're just having trouble coming up with content that Allura wants to publish.”

“Well Shay certainly isn’t,” Lance grumbled. He liked Shay, he really did. She was nice, and polite, and Lance would bet money that she and Hunk had a thing for each other, but somehow, she always seemed to find a story before he did, take better pictures, and ask better questions. And Allura would choose her articles over Lance’s any day. Shay just had to be so perfect.

“I'm sorry, Lance,” Coran repeated. “If I could, I would publish every word you write, but you know I'm just your editor.”

“And Shay’s,” Lance muttered.

Coran sighed. “I’m everyone’s editor. I don’t choose what I work on. Allura has the final say.”

“Why does she make us call her Allura?” Lance vented, sitting in his desk chair and spinning it around. “I mean, what kind of corporate boss gets her employees to call her by her first name? Does she think it makes her more approachable? Because it doesn’t. It’s the opposite. It’s like calling your mom by her real name…except the other way around. You just don’t do it!”

“Now, Lance, don’t get your undies in a bunch. You’ll get your time to shine, I know it.”

“Thanks, Coran. You know, when I first met you I thought you were just some kooky old guy. But now I realize you're the best kooky old guy on the planet,” Lance smirked.

“Hurtful!”

When noon rolled around, Lance didn't bother taking his lunch break, instead setting up his laptop to go over some more of his material. It was just after Coran had returned from his own break that the phone on Lance’s desk began its shrill, telltale ring. Lance winced. There was only one person who called him on his desk phone.

“Hey, Allura,” he said, pressing the receiver to his ear.

“Lance,” Allura’s sharp voice rattled through his head, and Lance prepared himself for a stern scolding, “I want to see you in my office before you clock out today.”

“Uh, okay. Sure.” That hadn’t been what he was expecting. Maybe the lecture about being on time would take place in her office.

“That is all.”

The rest of the day was uneventful, as usual. Coran had to shake him from a nap once or twice, apparently sleeping in had only made him more tired. Before he packed up his things, Lance made the treacherous journey to Allura’s office on the top floor, overlooking the city. It was an envious view. Lance’s office window on the west side of the building merely overlooked a side street and was covered in pigeon droppings. He'd never seen Shay’s office, but he assumed it offered much better scenery than his.

Lance rapped his knuckles softly against the already open door. “You wanted to see me, Allura?”

“Ah, yes, McClain. Come in.”

Lance shuffled into the room and sat in the shiny, upholstered chair Allura pointed to. He folded his hands and sat as straight as humanly possible. Good posture meant a good impression, according to Allura.

“How are you?” Allura asked, flipping distractedly through a thick manila folder. She didn’t meet Lance’s eyes.

The question caught him off guard. “Good,” he squeaked, then did his best to speak up. “Good, thank you.” This wasn’t exactly the truth, but telling your uptight boss you were uncomfortable because she ran her office like a military base and you were dreading her speech on being late because you’d been pulled over by the cops and you would really appreciate a raise and also maybe a nicer office—it just didn’t seem like the best idea.

“That’s lovely,” Allura replied. The lack of emotion in her voice had Lance unnerved, tapping his foot against the floor.

Lance cleared his throat and summoned every ounce of politeness in his body. “I'm sure you didn’t invite me up here to chat about my day,” he said pointedly.

“You are correct,” Allura said, pulling a paper from the folder and placing it on the desk in front of Lance. “Would you care to explain to me exactly what this is?”

Lance leaned over the paper, recognizing it almost immediately. It was his writing, several neat paragraphs that formed an article about the hardships faced by a Syrian refugee who’d made a life for herself here in the city. Despite the language barrier and financial struggles, she’d opened a flower shop on the outskirts of the city and was now doing well. Lance had been captivated by her story, and both Hunk and Coran had proofread it and given it a big thumbs-up. He'd even handed it to Allura a week before the deadline. So why was she frowning at him, practically glaring, as she waited for an answer? Was she messing with him? Was he finally going to hear the news that one of his articles was to be published?

“That’s,” Lance gulped, “my latest article.”

Allura huffed. “Well, yes, I'm aware of that. I suppose the better inquiry would be why did you choose to submit this particular piece?”

“Well,” Lance said, running off in his mind all the reasons that Hunk and Coran had deemed it worthy, “it’s a heartwarming, down to earth story. It shows the struggles of someone that others can relate to, it’s inspiring, a real-life experience that people would be interested to learn from. Plus, it’s a great way to encourage more people to visit the flower shop.”

Allura frowned. “I see. Unfortunately, Lance, the Altean Times is not a compilation of feel-good stories. We pride ourselves on current, ground-breaking news, pressing stories that bring focus to widespread issues. And frankly, the content you're putting forward isn’t meeting these standards. Your writing is of excellent quality; your style to be rivaled only by Shay, and I love your perspective, but if you continue failing to produce the sort of content we’re looking for…I'm afraid I’ll need to take action. And as far as business for the flower shop goes, if Mrs.,” Allura squinted to read the foreign name, “Hemsani wants publicity from us she can pay to place an advertisement in our paper. We are not a charity.”

“So…what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that there are other journalists out there, Lance. And if you can’t bring me a good story, I'm sure one of them can.”

So this was it. The end of the line. No more being second best to Shay, because now he wouldn’t place at all. This was his last chance. Allura would fire him if he didn’t come up with a newsworthy story. Lance would have much preferred the lecture on being late.

“I understand,” Lance said shakily.

“Good.” Allura snapped the folder shut. “That will be all. You may take that with you, if you like.” She nodded to Lance’s article on the desk.

He grabbed the piece of paper and pushed his chair back. “Thank you,” he managed before leaving the room.

He had to stop himself from breaking into a jog down the hallway. He wanted out. He needed out. Nearly everyone had left for the day, leaving the entire building in a tense, pent up silence.

Lance found himself in his office, roughly grabbing his bag and keys and then stalking back out. He jabbed a thumb into the elevator button, waiting anxiously for the doors to open with a far too cheery ding. Halfway down the elevator ride, he realized the damn article was still clenched in his trembling fist. He clawed his fingers around it, again and again, eating it up with his nails. The elevator lurched to a stop and opened to reveal an almost vacant lobby.

It really was a decent article. Well planned and well written, informative and reflective. But not good enough. Lance uncrumpled it. He stared at the paper, wrinkled now, his words, his work, essentially worthless. With one swift motion, he tore it in half, and let the two pieces flutter into the nearest waste bin.

If you want to drive, you need to calm down, Lance told himself as he weaved his way through the parking lot and got into his car. He stuck the keys in the ignition and set his head on his hands, wrapped tight around the wheel. Deep breaths.

Somehow, he didn’t end up driving home, instead pulling into the familiar parking lot of the Yellow Lion Café. The air inside was warm and aromatic, filled with the scent of Hunk’s freshly baked cinnamon rolls. A few people were scattered among the plush sofas and small tables, sharing drinks and quiet laughter.

“Hey, Lance!” Hunk greeted him from behind the counter with a friendly wave.

“Hi, Hunk.” Lance took a seat and flicked at a few crumbs on the counter, which Hunk promptly wiped up.

“Lance, is everything okay? You look…upset,” Hunk chose the words carefully.

Lance sighed. “Yeah, I'm okay. Work today was just a little…rough.”

Before he'd even finished, Hunk had set a cinnamon roll in front of him and begun to pour him a glass of milk.

Lance shook his head. “It looks delicious, buddy, but I really can’t. I think it’s in my best interest to save as much money as possible for now.”

“Free of charge. Don’t you dare refuse it.”

There was simply no arguing with Hunk when it came to food. Lance accepted the cinnamon roll, realizing he'd skipped lunch without a second thought, and now he really was hungry. Maybe that was the reason he was still shaking.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Hunk asked gently.

Lance shook his head no. “I wanna eat.”

“Okay.” Hunk took off his apron and sat across from Lance. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Just knowing he was there was the best comfort Lance could ask for.

Even though he wasn’t scheduled to work today, Lance spent the next few hours helping out around the coffee shop. It was a good distraction, and he enjoyed helping the customers. He also appreciated the leftover cinnamon rolls Hunk gave him before locking up.

“Goodnight, Hunk,” Lance said through a mouthful of pastry.

“Goodnight, Lance. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lance was left in the dark as Hunk drove off. The dim streetlight barely lit up his own pathetic car, and it did nothing to illuminate his mood. There was a chance he could lose his job. After all the money, all the effort and work it had taken to get here, he had pretty much blown it.

There was no radio in Lance’s car, at least not one that worked, so he was glad to be able to put on some music when he got to his apartment, the volume meticulously adjusted so as not to upset his landlord in the apartment above him. She had ears like an elephant, and Lance didn’t want her to hate him any more than she already did.

With the music faded into the background, Lance munched on a cinnamon roll at his desk, flipping through that morning’s paper. There was nothing new here, nothing he hadn't already seen. One of Shay’s articles had been published, and even after analyzing every little detail, he still couldn’t see what set her work apart from everyone else’s.

He was so engrossed in his reading that the sound of his phone ringing made him jump. He looked at the screen. Incoming call…from Mom. Lance groaned. Talking was about the last thing he felt like doing right now. But he thought about how his mom somehow always managed to make him feel better. He thought about the sound of her voice, warm and sweet, like fresh honey. And he picked up the phone.

“Hey, Mamá.”

“Lance, cariño, how are you? I've missed you so much.”

“I'm good,” Lance said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “I missed you, too.”

“I really just wanted to talk to you, if you're not busy. Its been a while. How’s life in the big city?”

“Great! Really, um…great, yeah. Lots of, erm, sights. And people,” Lance said distractedly, still scanning Shay’s article.

“Lance, honey, is everything alright? You sound sad.” His mothers voice was so caring. All she wanted to do was help. All she ever wanted to do was help.

Lance sighed, thinking of the less than ideal meeting he'd had with Allura. “Mamá, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s about work, I—” Lance froze, fingers hovering over the newspaper, cinnamon rolls threatening to make a reappearance. Because for the first time, there was something new here.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Lance said in a rush, “you know, for helping me get the money to move up here and go to college and whatnot. But I gotta go now, actually. Love you, Mom. Bye.” He hung up the phone and slid it as far away as possible.

He pressed his face closer to the words, scrubbing at his eyes, but there was no denying what was printed there.

Now seeking new journalist to cover mainstream media and press. Full time position. Includes shared office space on the west side of main building. Contact Allura for additional information. Allura’s number was printed directly underneath, along with her signature. Lance sucked in a breath. There were a very limited number of journalists at the Altean Times, and very few reasons for any of them to be replaced. Except one. This advertisement matched Lance’s job description perfectly. He was too late. With this ad, Allura may as well have already fired him.

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