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

Sixteen: P is for Present

And now I present... my last care in the world. It's for my cat.

Had it not been for the laws of this land, Pidge would have slaughtered a man long ago. Lance might have been Snapchatting her like there was no tomorrow, or the world could be ending, but she would have no idea until later. She wrinkled her nose and sighed to herself. Was she burning up? Certainly, her dress did nothing to soothe her in the stuffy room, but if she was slowly incinerated just by being in church for once, it would keep her out forever. Being a demon had perks, didn't it? But, no, Mom was too insistent. No phones were to buzz during the lengthy sermon or stiff small group session, and they had to pretend to be happy to be there. The family was all dolled up for Christmas Eve, and that was that.

The last time Pidge had worn mascara and eyeliner had been at a sleepover, for a dare. Presently, she was not allowed to rub her eyes or fiddle with the cosmetic glasses which had been confiscated and buried in her mother's purse. There was no way her long velvet sleeves were getting smeared on, either. If she swung her legs and hit the pew in front of them, it was goodbye to Rover the three-pound battlebot. Christmas Mass was a sudden death match.

The fire hazard known to laymen as the Advent candles were across the room, but they fueled the oven nonetheless. Remembering Communion, Pidge fret more. Would it be socially acceptable to tab through the Bible and read all the fun stories instead of listening to the dude at the podium rant about repentance? No one at small group would expect her to participate in the conversation.

Before she could slip a Bible under her chair, the congregation rose and went for their choir books. Mrs. Holt gave the other Holts a pointed look. Ignoring the fact that she was dying inside, Pidge flipped to "We Three Kings" and mustered up a neutral face. Time to fake an alleluia and power nap through prayer.

"Are we gonna play Christmas songs for Christmas, or what?" Ricardo reached for Lance's phone, but he was promptly denied access to the screen.

"Your holiday playlist is too short," Lance chided. "Don't worry, I made Keith filter out the edgy songs when everyone collabed on this one."

"Is 'We Are Number One' on it?"

"Nah, but I think one version of 'Wii Music but it's Sung by Vocaloids' slipped in."

Ricardo returned to his typical backwards straddle of Lance's desk chair. "I can live with that."

"Because your girlfriend likes it?" Lance grinned over his phone. "What was her name, Angelina?"

"Angelisse. And she's not my girlfriend," Ricardo made a face.

"Tú sabes su nombre, chico," tilting his head, Lance considered taking "Hum Hallelujah" off the list. Would Keith mind?

There was no being bros without messing with each other. Ricardo had mercilessly teased Lance for pining for three years with a knack only a preteen his age could. Middle schoolers were the only ones with little enough dignity to make kissy faces.

"Lancey Lance," Maria poked her head in, "did you get a present for Keith?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Can me and Señor Pato put a bow on the box?" she had her beanbag duck stuffed in the pocket of the hoodie stolen from Alejandra that she was wearing.

"Why not. C'mere and I'll show you which side is the top."

Keith felt the cashier's stare as he hummed "City of Stars" under his breath, leaning against the wall as he waited for someone to bring out the Christmas cake his father had sent him to pick up. He glanced up for a millisecond. Through his bangs, which acted as a convenient shade from people viewing where he was looking, a slow smile spread across her face. Everyone in the establishment was Chinese (and most could speak both Mandarin and Cantonese, apparently), but the younger employees were caught up with American pop culture.

"Do you go to school nearby?" she inquired.

Ah, darn. Pretending to be scrolling through something distracting on his phone had failed. "Yeah. I'm a highschool senior."

The girl had a fluent American accent. She didn't bother covering her grin. "I'm a junior! That's funny. Maybe we'll see each other around."

Relieving Keith of having to respond, a man in his high sixties walked up to the counter with a wrapped box. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth creased when he handed Keith his package. "Thank you for coming! Merry Christmas!"

If ever, this was a time to practice the little Chinese Keith had learned. He nodded and squeezed out a "xie xie" before turning to go.

"Hey, can I get your number for a friend?" the cashier called, ignoring the glance of disapproval from the baker. "She's pretty, I swear."

Keith couldn't keep himself from grinning when he replied with something other than his old awkward parry. "Sorry. I have a boyfriend."

The old man chortled. "Tell him 'merry Christmas' too."

The Korean laughed in reply, already half out the door and into the falling snow.

"Merry Christmas Eve, Chichi," Shiro broke the white noise of the wind and leaves with a puff of water vapor. He stepped down from the cobblestones that acted as the curb, brushing a layer of snowflakes to the ground.

As usual, the stone said nothing back.

"Merry Christmas Eve," came a sudden response from behind him.

Allura's smile glinted more than the new graves did. "This is an odd place to spend Christmas Eve."

"I was about to say the same to you."

"I hope you don't mind that Matt added me to your 'Garrison Nerds' group chat," spotting Shiro's father, her face eased into something closer to Mona Lisa's. "Have you checked it recently?"

Would Chichi mind if they conversed here? Probably not, to be honest, but Shiro shifted his weight to his other foot nonetheless. "Not since yesterday. What did he say?"

"To paraphrase, his family is holding a Christmas party this evening, and we're both invited."

"Are you going to go?"

"Are you?" she adjusted her scarf.

Bae Bae would be overjoyed to witness Shiro's return to the Holt's house, though it might make Pidge and her friends uncomfortable to spend Christmas with their teacher. He was prone to overthinking, though, and attending a party was better than sitting in his empty house. "I should RVSP. Do you- would you like to carpool?"

The librarian replied before he could curse himself for jumping to conclusions. "I'd love to; thank you! I'll send you my address. It's twenty minutes from Matt's house."

"I'll see you at five, then."