A, You're Adorable (Klance) [DISCONTINUED]

Ten: J is for Just

I'm not making a space for us, just me, so get out of here.

Pidge's brother woke her up early to bother her about college apps. She threw a pillow at him and curled up. Not today of all days. Days off were for lying in bed, not finishing essays.

"You've got to get up eventually," Matt tugged her blanket away.

Pidge whined at the chill. "As long as I don't bleed on the sheets, I'm good."

"Gross, man," he put his hand on his hip, which she could only see because her eyelids were parted by a millimeter. "Lance says he needs an impromptu therapy session on Skype.

"What did he really say?" Pidge mumbled into the sheets.

"Hey [B]idge Skype me m8."

She rolled over. "Aight. I'm getting up. Get out of my room."

Matt had come back home for graduate studies, but Pidge had refused to relinquish the larger bedroom after residing in it for two years. He had to deal with her old room, which had a smaller closet and no personal bathroom. Her three IKEA cork boards and chalkboard-painted wall were quite comfortable where they were, thank you very much. Thirteen-year-old Katie had gone for a clean white-and-cream-and-pastel-pink artsy aesthetic, but Pidge had eventually grown into covering the top of her dresser and bookshelf with figurines and Rubik's Cubes. Lance had framed their famous finger gun standoff and gifted it to her one year; that was next to Matt's Snow Miku figurine. Weird how long the traces of his weeb phase had lasted.

Lance tossed a meme into Skype's chat before he called her. He appeared on screen beside a stack of index cards on his bed. "Morning, Pigeon."

"Morning, Lance," Pidge scratched her head. "What's the matter today?"

"He's too stinkin' cuuuuute," her friend groaned, rubbing his eyes. "I can't take it."

"You talking about the stock photo guy or mullet boy?"

"I got over the stock photo guy weeks ago, Pigeon. You know who it is."

Matt came in and handed her a bowl of Cheerios (milk not included). "Have this so you don't starve before breakfast. Hi, Lance."

"Hey, Matt," Lance piped.

When her brother had left the room, Pidge popped a Cheerio into her mouth. "What did you do that got you freaking out again?"

"Yesterday we went for coffee with Space Dad and Allura from the library. Then we got into this whole conversation about hypothetically going out and then I said that I was okay with his mom hypothetically making me part of the family and he did too and- why are you laughing? It was very low-key."

"You went on a low-key double date with Space Dad, is what," Pidge snorted. "There is no getting back up from this fall, dude. Call off Life Alert. Ask him out already."

"Bro, that's probably a violation of the Bro Code."

Pidge munched on the cereal over the bowl so she wouldn't have to clean it up later. "Why can't you go to Hunk about this if you're not gonna take my advice?"

"You get me, man. Hunk has things planned out already for him and Shay. I got nothing."

"Right. Don't hang up; I gotta make sure I don't mess up my pants while you pine. Dig up your Keith shrine from under your bed or something while I'm gone."

"Very funny. You're a cruel bird."

Pidge's bathroom was still themed Hatsune-Miku-teal and white. Why her parents would allow Matt to choose such a color scheme, the world would never know. Oldest child privileges? Weird. At least he had gone for some pastel tints for the tiles and left the brightest shades for smaller things. The only non-Miku-colored objects were Pidge's toothbrush, hair brush, and towel, which were varying shades of green. Where did all the teal bric-a-brac come from? Teal was not a common aesthetic color. Ridiculous. But Pidge had long since mulled over the bathroom and every nook of it, so the topic was just a distraction.

"What if I ask him out and he says no? Or what if he laughs it off as a joke because I flirt with him so often? Or what if-"

"Quit worrying," Pidge grumbled. "You'll be fine."

"Just... what if he doesn't like me?"

"Lance! Bro! He put up with you for three years! That's a miracle in itself, for him."

"Aight. I'll ask Hunk about preparing. Thanks, Pidge."

"Uh-huh."

She leaned back with a noise of irritation, placing her laptop back on her desk. Today was a bad day. She eventually had to finish her essays to the schools which wouldn't freak out about her age. Matt had offered to take her to his school's pool, but as of yet that was a definite no-go. Her mother would insist that she didn't walk in the rain, like every other time like this.

The girl's eyes wandered to her closet. Maybe a dress would be good for today. She hadn't worn the cotton one against the wall in a while.

The strongest link between Pidge and the current sophomores was a few odd memes. She didn't remember them from the last year she'd spent with them (third grade), and that was fine by her. Lance and Hunk had spared her from the lurking possible bullies, for the most part, and they had sailed into every grade together. Keith's addition to the friend group kept even more people from pestering her. They were a rad squad.

Pidge contemplated the dress for a long moment. Nothing was wrong with dressing like Katie "aesthetic or die" Holt again for a day. She had crushed her hormonal insecurities years ago.

"Kitty," Matt sang from outside, "hurry up and get your stuff together. Food's on the table. Geez, girls are weird."

Pidge grimaced. "Stop calling me that. I'm not eight anymore."

"Roll out of bed and come eat before I tell Mom you need help with your outfit for today."

Mrs. Colleen Holt loved nothing more than wasting time trawling through Pidge's closet to find cutesy clothing of yore. A dress and tights it was.

//

I accidentally re-posted chapter eight and no one told me? Thanks, guys.