It was the little things that came after. Things that took some time to be noticed – the breaking of a routine, the lack of a certain energy.

Things had begun to resettle – plans, projects, people. But they couldn't go back to the way they had been. They moved according to the space that had been opened, and the resulting cascade of everything sliding out of place. Like the pull of soft tissue, solid and liquid and tethered and floating, a vacuum, a change of shape.

The kind that hurt.

They couldn't be the same people they had been. They needed something, and there was only one place left to get it.

Keith entered the room with barely a sound, but Pidge heard him anyway.

"What do you want?" was her acknowledgement.

He paused, he took a breath.

"I thought you might like some company."

Pidge looked up from her computer.

"Yeah," she said. "I would."

They found Lance in the kitchen.

"Hey, Lance. What are you up to?"

Lance looked up, pulling his head off his fist.

"Oh. Hey, guys. I was just trying to figure out Hunk's recipe for flomptoad casserole. But it's…" he gestured down at the mess, "not going so well."

They eyed the valiant attempt.

"You want some help with that?" Pidge asked.

Lance almost smiled.

"'Need' it is the better word."

He handed her a spoon.

"I mean… do YOU even know how to make this?" Keith asked Pidge.

"No, but it couldn't be THAT hard. Boil it all down and it's simple physics and chemistry."

"Well, I'm glad you're here to help me, then, cuz I was never good in either of those," Lance said, handing Pidge an apron.

Keith picked up a jar. "I thought he always used the little ORANGE seed things, not the red ones."

"Oh. Well that might explain why it's not rising the way it's supposed to."

"Since when is casserole supposed to rise?" Pidge asked.

"Since I added something that I think is yeast."

"Lance… maybe we should start this one again."

Lance looked over at the failed casserole.

"Well, we still have to bake the first one and see what happens."

Pidge snorted just a little.

"Of course."

"Okay, I guess I just don't fucking understand casserole," Pidge said after a while.

"I think it needs a bit less… mustard?" Keith said.

"I think the mustard stuff is going to solidify into noodles when we bake it."

"I think OUR casserole doesn't look any better than LANCE'S."

"Hey!" Lance said. "My casserole is perfectly happy the way it is!"

"And believe me, we are all very happy for your casserole," Pidge scoffed.

"Well I'm glad you all are happy about SOMETHING."

He didn't sound that glad at all.

"Lance? Are you okay?"

Lance hid his face for a moment. When he turned back he was laughing a pained laugh.

"We are never gonna eat good food again."

He hadn't smiled in weeks. This didn't count.

Keith and Pidge exchanged a glance.

"Well of COURSE it sucks," Pidge said. She yanked her friends in close. "We forgot the secret ingredient."

"What?" Keith squirmed. "You mean the narfitts?"

Lance laughed again, a bit nicer this time.

"Yeah," he said, hugging them both. "Definitely the narfitts."

Shiro would walk in on them a while later, talking, laughing, being gentle with each other.

Just in time to judge Worst Casserole.