[lαncє]

They/Them pronouns for Pidge

"Hunk! Oh my god, you were so drunk last night!" Pidge immediately screamed when Hunk groaned in bed. His arm flung over his eyes to block the light coming in from the broken blinds. Lance giving a small grin as he laughed with Pidge. "Yeah, dude." Lance agreed with little sympathy as Hunk rolled his eyes under his arms.

"Go 'way." He murmured to the two. Pidge let out a small giggle and shook her head. Hunk unveiled his eyes and grimaced. "Please?" He tried, pulling the saddest set of puppy dog eyes he could manage with his massive hangover. Pidge ignored his pleas and quickly managed to get on top of his chest. "Wake up. Time for waffles." Pidge spoke, giving Hunk a small jiggle as they pressed their hands against his shoulders. "Waffles." Pidge insisted, Lance, giving a small eye roll. "Get off of him Pidge." He ordered casually, going over to the bed and grabbing Hunk's knee. "Get up." He stated, earning another groan from Hunk.

"Drink your water, and then we can discuss last night," Lance told the two. "Oh god, did I ask one of you for sex?!" Hunk screamed. His eyes wide with terror and shame, sending each of them a soft glance of sorrow. Pidge started to laugh again. "No—" Lance sighed and put a hand on his forehead. Giving a shake of dismissal for Hunk's accusation, Lance walked out. He would no longer put up with whatever that was. Don't get him wrong, Lance loved his friends to bits, but his brain was so focused on something... someone.  

Lance scowled, eyebrows knitting together as his nose wrinkled in disgust. "Why am I thinking of this guy?!" He questioned aloud as he stopped in the middle of the hallway. His hands clenched into fists and Lance huffed. "No more thinking of him." He hissed to himself, feeling a blush work its way up his neck and to his cheeks. "Dammit." he cursed as he popped one of his knuckles. 

Wiping his cheek with the back of his wrist as if it would get rid of the blush, he saw he still had glitter on. Lance cracked a smile and brushed his (now) unclenched hand(s) against the glitter. Spreading the small sparkles down his face and over his wrists. "Stupid Keith." Lance muttered as he eyes the glitter at his feet. Shaking off his wrists and hands he let them fall to his sides. "You coming?" Lance called out to his friends. "One second!" Hunk hollered back, Pidge popping their head out of the doorframe. "Are you seriously spreading the gay glitter all over HUnk's floors?" 

"Stop calling it gay glitter!" Hunk said from behind them. Pidge gave a dramatic sigh. "If I must." They replied dryly, Lance glancing guiltily at the glitter on the floor. "Sorry, bro." Hunk shrugged it off. "It feels like home now." Hunk answered cheesily. Pidge plugged their nose and gagged. "I'm dying! The cheesiness of that statement sent me and my lactose intolerant ass all the way to death's fucking door." Hunk ruffled their hair, much to Pidge's dismay. "Ak!" They squeaked, "Love you too." Lance decided to add in sarcastically. Hunk swinging his arm around Lance's waist and pulling him close. giving him a friendly peck on his cheek. "Mwuah!" He added as Lance grimaced. "Ew, now my face is wet!" Pidge cocked an eyebrow at them, "That's not the only thing you got wet." Lance felt his face burn, but he did nothing to change his blush, unlike a few minutes before.

"Waffles?" Lance suggested weakly, Hunk nodded. "Come on, child." Hunk said to Pidge as they followed the two boys quickly. Lance jogged down the hallway, turning left into the kitchen. Hunk going immediately to the cupboard to grab the waffle iron and mix. "Waffles." Pidge chanted as they sat down. "For a midget size, 16-year-old, you sure are childish." Hunk teased lightly as he got out a bowl. Lance, who's eyes caught the empty coffee pot, now understood Pidge's strange but not too unaverage behavior. 

"They got into the coffee." Lance briefly explained as Hunk moved to the sink with the bowl, mix, and a spoon in his hand. "Can we turn on music?" Pidge asked, ignoring Hunk and Lance's disappointed glares at the coffee pot. "Mhm." Lance hummed in response. A smile lighting up his face as he opened his phone. He unlocked it quickly and picked a song.

 Waking up to kiss you and nobody's there. The smell of your perfume still stuck in the air.  

"Yes! Niall Horan!" Hunk exclaimed as he mixed the mix into a thick, liquid substance. Lance gave an over-exaggerated smile and went to the counter. "I'll plug in the iron," Lance spoke as he placed his phone down in it and plugged the waffle iron in. "Thanks." 

Pidge sat as still as they could manage. The table was already set, and they had grabbed the syrup while Lance plugged in the waffle iron.

Hunk turned and poured some mix into the hot iron; the music still playing. 

As if the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you. Drive highways and byways to be there with you. 

"Closing it." Hunk told Pidge. Lance felt that something was off. He looked around on the table, sitting down cautiously. He then felt in his pocket, everything was norm— oh no. Crap!

"Fuck! Where's my phone?!" Lance screamed as he shot up from his seat. Pidge shrugged, unamused by Lance's irresponsibility.  "I don't know dude. Hey, why'd the music stop?" Hunk questioned, opening the waffle iron lid, revealing a golden brown waffle. "Looks good! Bu... uh..." Hunk trailed off, dread filling his features. "Lance?" Hunk's voice spoke hesitantly. Lance looked at him, "You found my phone? I must have left it on the counter, my mistake." Lance assumed as he ran over to him.

"Where is it?" 

Hunk pointed to the waffle.

"What the frick-itle, frack-ible, fuck."