Conundrum

Chapter 6: Two

      Lance groaned before flopping onto his enormous bed; the perfectly made sheets became a disaster as soon as his body hit the mattress. He had just barely shuck off the top of his uniform before succumbing to the enticing pillow, not that his head ever came close to the squishy object.

      The door to his bedroom clicked open, and light poured in the pitch-black room. Lance cracked open an eye. Who dared to interrupt his precious sleep? Lance could barely make out the short frame of his tech genius. "What do you want?" he tried to say, but every word was smothered and made incomprehensible by his cotton blankets. His attempt at being annoyed just turned into a series of grunts and huffs, much to Pidges amusement.

      She flicked the light switch, filling the entire room with light and blinding both her and Lance. He hissed at her and buried his face into the mattress. Pidge laughed before saying, "Come on, do-gooder, we still have to go over the riddles one more time."

      Lance screeched and rolled so his back was to the door and draped his arm across his eyes. Pidge huffed. "I'll drag you out of that bed if I have to, Shitshooter."

      The billionaire lifted his head and glared at the engineer. He sat up. "Why do you have to be so mean to me?" he said, rubbing his eyes.

Pidge rolled her eyes, "I'll be waiting for you."

      She turned to the door, completely disregarding Lance's question. She stopped just outside the room and gripped the door frame. "Also, put on some damn clothes."

      Lance huffed as she left and moved to slither off the bed like an ungraceful slug. When his feet hit the floor, he groaned. Somehow, during his night out, he'd been able to pull or strain every muscle in his body. Cursing everyone and everything, Lance gingerly made his way over to his walk-in closet and snatched a shirt too large for him and a pair of black sweatpants to change into.

      Peeling off his latex bottoms was a chore he didn't want to deal with, so halfway through he growled, flopped on the floor and created his own racetrack on the ceiling, the tight latex pants bunched around his ankles. He must have lost track of time, because eventually Pidge made another appearance in his room.

      She popped her head in, expecting to see the billionaire curled up in his bed, not on the floor, barely dressed, and half asleep. Her hard eyes softened before she padded over to him; she picked up the clothes he'd picked out. "Alright, let's get you dressed, and we'll only review them for a few minutes. Then you can go to sleep, okay?"

      Lance blinked lazily before huffing his agreement. Pidge sat cross-legged beside him, and gently slid the shirt over his head. Only the sounds of their breathing and shifting clothing occupied the silence of the room, it made the billionaire's eyes drooped dangerously low. Pidge made Lance sit up, after a while of persistent coaxing from her, and she maneuvered his arms through the other holes.

      The cloth fell the rest of the way, covering his mid-rift. Pidge sighed when a soft snore reached her ears. She rolled her eyes and patted his forehead until his bright blue eyes looked up at her, he groaned.

"I know you want to sleep," Pidge whispered as she moved to slip on the sweatpants, "but, you made me promise we would go over these clues."

"Déjame morir en paz," Lance mumbled, barely coherent.

Pidge chuckled. Lance felt the soft inside of the pants reach his thighs.

"Come on, stand up."

      Lance was practically dead weight as Pidge hauled him up from the floor. He nearly bent in half as he rested against her; cheek squished against the top of her head. Pidge sighed and lifted the pants over his hips.