Lance wasn't a competitive guy.

Most people thought otherwise, given how often he challenged his fellow paladins to silly little contests.

He'd challenge Hunk to see who could eat the fastest. He'd challenge Shiro to arm wrestling matches. And he challenged Keith to literally everything.

Most people would point to this as evidence that Lance McClain loved to compete.

But Pidge knew better.

Lance wasn't competitive. He was a showoff. And that was about ten thousand times worse.

The blue paladin didn't challenge his teammates to pointless little competitions out of some sense of sport. He didn't it to get their attention.

Everyone knew Hunk had the biggest palette in the universe. It wasn't just a matter of him being able to eat a lot, but rather that he enjoyed it. Hunk knew what to eat and when, and paced himself accordingly. He was capable of eating a whole meal in a matter of seconds (green goo wasn't exactly difficult to chew) or he could take his time and savor the taste.

Anyone with half a brain knew that challenging Hunk in any department that involved food was doomed to failure.

Lance did have at least half a brain. The guy wasn't stupid, not by a long shot. But every time he lost to Hunk the big guy would pat him on the back and then take him back to the kitchen to help cure his stomach ache.

He'd then spend the rest of the afternoon bemoaning his misfortune whilst dramatically draping himself over the couch at Pidge's side.

Challenging Shiro was a dumb move. Everyone knew it. Lance knew it. And everyone knew Lance knew it. But he did it anyway.

To their leaders credit, he did everything in his power to quietly dissuade Lance from challenging him. He'd change the subject, attempt to give Lance words of encouragement, or, in a last resort, draw attention to their current win to loss ratio.

Which was currently at seven to zero with Shiro on the appropriate side.

But none of this seemed to dissuade Lance.

He'd make Pidge put down whatever project she was working on and more or less push the green paladin into a seat to "referee" the contest.

Not that there was really a need. The whole thing was usually over in a matter of seconds. Minutes if Shiro was feeling charitable that day. And it would always end with Lance getting the back of his hand slammed into the table.

Shiro was usually gentle enough not to do any harm, but then Lance's repeated challenges caused a sizable bruise to grow on his arm and the black paladin finally put his foot down.

After that Lance had declared himself the victor by forfeit and told Pidge to "chalk it up"

Pidge changed Shiro's score from a seven to an eight.

It was so easy to wind up Keith, that Lance usually challenged him to some pointless competition when the others wouldn't give him the time of day. All he had to do was prod the red paladin's pride a little and voila. Instant firestorm.

But unlike with Hunk and Shiro, Lance usually managed fairly well when he competed with Keith.

When challenging Keith to things like hand-to-hand combat or piloting, Lance would royally get his ass kicked. But every once in awhile he would wisen up and actually challenge his rival to things where he held the home team advantage. Like in the shooting range, or the time he challenged the red paladin to try and navigate his way out of the invisible maze before he could, etc.

Really, Pidge thought. It didn't make sense why he didn't try those things more often. Lance always looked nice when he practiced on the range.

She would often times head over there and watch his progress. Pidge never told him she was there. He didn't need his concentration being broken.

Looking on from the observation deck, she'd watch as Lance's usually goofy expression would harden and take on a more serious expression. How his eyes would narrow. His lips would part. His steady finger on the trigger. Trained to pull only when the moment was juuuuust right.

And then he'd fire.

The shot would leave the gun, fly through the air, and strike the target.

Lance may whistle or pump his arm in victory, but that was about it.

It wasn't at all like the way he acted when he won, or even lost, against the others. With the others he'd showboat. He'd claim his game was off, or that he had somehow thoroughly earned second place "Until next time" before walking off with a dignified look on his face. Leaving onlookers to shake their heads in confusion.

But Pidge preferred the quiet, confident, Lance to the loud, showboating, one.

For starters, the quiet Lance, as he gave a terrific smirk after firing off a successful shot, was a lot more handsome.

At least in Pidge's purely neutral opinion.

Pidge had to be the hardest person Lance had ever tried to impress.

It wasn't like impressing people he liked was anything new to Lance. It was just something he had to do. He wanted the people he liked to notice him. To recognize him to some degree.

It didn't always work. In fact it frequently failed.

Needless to say this played hell on Lance's self-esteem.

If he couldn't impress the people he respected, then what hope did he have to earn their respect in return?

He didn't have that issue with Hunk.

For starters he had known the guy since their early garrison days. Besides that Hunk was the kind of guy who could make even the lowest insect feel good about themselves. It wasn't as though he buttered people up. Rather, he focused mostly on all the positive aspects of a person. He didn't ignore their faults, he just didn't hold it against them.

Shiro was the same, though he'd only really known the guy for a short time. But Shiro had a way of making use of all of Lance's skills. When Shiro gave Lance a job it was with the quiet confidence that he would do everything in his power to see it done.

As for Keith… well…

Okay Keith was an asshole, but dammit he was a GOOD asshole.

He was an amazing pilot, an excellent athlete, and none too shabby with a blade to boot. Lance couldn't help but admire him. And even though he would never admit it, they DID work well together. Lance wasn't as skilled as Keith, but he certainly held together better under fire.

And then there was Pidge.

Pidge was… different. Pidge had always been different.

At first Lance had thought the little navigator was just impersonal and socially inept. Never hanging out with him and Hunk outside the simulator, avoiding groups all together, disappearing at a moment's notice.

Course then they'd ended up in space and everything came out.

Lance admired Pidge a lot. She'd given up a lot in trying to find her dad and brother. A part of Lance would really have liked to have met the two. From the way he heard Pidge and Shiro talked about them, they sounded like good people.

Besides that, she kicked ass. He'd have died a long time ago if it weren't for Pidge. And her skills with technology was something to be admired. More than admired really.

Lance respected Pidge.

But he didn't get the feeling that she felt the same way.

Everytime he dragged her along to watch him try and prove his mettle against their teammates she never seemed impressed. Her eyes would always wander to her computer, or she'd snark about his so called "showboating".

(He was NOT a showboater. A man had every right to dance the funky chicken after successfully beating Keith in a sparring match.)

He wanted Pidge to look at him with an impressed look in her eyes. With that happy smile of hers and those big green adorable eyes. Not even a thick pair of glasses could stop their radiance.

But no matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to keep her gaze. Pidge liked Hunk's cooking, admired Shiro, and was certainly impressed by Keith's skills. But she never looked at Lance that way.

When looking at him her face was always bemused or sarcastic or neutral.

He wanted her bewildered ever curious eyes on him. And he wanted her to keep looking at him.

Pidge's eyes really were beautiful.

At least in Lance's purely neutral opinion.