Chapter Text
She appears at the end of September.
The first time Mystery Girl shows up in Astronomy 460, Veronica doesn’t pay her any mind, only noticing her because she sat in Veronica’s sightline. The second time she appears, it’s the very next class. Veronica assumes Mystery Girl simply joined the roster after add/drop. By the third class Mystery Girl attends, Veronica is undeniably curious about her, because Mystery Girl never comes to class with a backpack.
By the fifth class Mystery Girl attends, it’s the beginning of October, and Veronica is yet to see her a.) have a backpack, b.) take notes, c.) sit anywhere but the very back, d.) speak. Needless to say, she’s intrigued.
“This is not just curiosity at this point; you think she’s cute, and you’re in denial.”
“Shut the fuck up, Lance! No I’m not!”
It’s the evening after Mystery Girl’s sixth class, and Veronica is at her brother’s dorm apartment, bickering with him while Hunk cooks and Pidge lounges, happily playing Minecraft.
“Lesbiansim 101,” Lance says, propping himself up on the back of the sofa. “Y’all are always in denial.”
“Yeah,” Veronica rolls her eyes. “And you have so much experience as a lesbian.” This earns a poorly stifled snort from Pidge.
Lance smacks a hand to his chest, theatrically offended. “You know full well that I’m a lesbian in spirit.”
Pidge lets out a cough that sounds suspiciously like “cis man.” Veronica silently thanks the universe when Hunk appears and announces that dinner is ready.
🪐🪐🪐
LanceyLance added Mullet, Space Dad, Princess, Gremlin, and UptownHunk to a group.
LanceyLance named the group “Project: Ronnie”
LanceyLance: guys
LanceyLance: is anyone in Coran’s astro 460 lecture
Space Dad: no??
Princess: I…I am a poli sci student.
Gremlin: the fuck you up to rn Lance
Mullet: Lance, I’m in the arts college??????????
Mullet: Lance, YOU’RE in the arts college????????????
UptownHunk: Lance, no.
LanceyLance: Lance, yes.
Princess: I don’t know what’s happening, but Lance, no.
Space Dad: ^^^^^^^^^^^^
Gremlin: Lance, yes.
LanceyLance: LANCE, YESSSSSSSSSSS
🪐🪐🪐
Garrison University is renowned for its STEM programs, but few people know it actually has a pretty stellar arts college as well. Well, aside from the unfortunate fact that the HVAC in the performing arts building seems never to work–but that’s Acxa’s problem, not Keith’s.
Said problem becomes apparent when Acxa materializes at the door of the studio Keith’s working in. She’s wearing tights, leg warmers, and a sweatshirt.
“Fuck October,” she says, not waiting for an invitation before meandering into the studio.
Keith sets down his brush and turns away from the painting he’s been staring at for the last two hours. “I thought autumn was your favourite.”
Acxa groans. “When the heating works. I can’t dance like this.” She splays her arms and scowls at her baggy purple sweatshirt. “It’s annoying.”
“Annoying is better than freezing, though.”
Acxa shrugs. “Watcha making?”
Keith looks back at the giant canvas on the floor, currently adorned solely with three huge red circles. “Great question,” he says, completely deadpan. He picks up his brush, dips in the can of bright crimson–which has been slowly splattering itself across his jeans–and blots another, smaller circle onto the canvas. “Coran said the only parameters were ‘avant garde’.” He draws air quotes around the last two words, rolling his eyes. He’s one of many students in Coran’s class who thinks the professor’s approach is a little…crazy, for lack of a better word.
“Wait,” Acxa starts, brow furrowing. “Isn’t Coran a STEM professor?”
“Yep. He’s also an art professor.”
“Huh. Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
Keith nods vaguely, blotting another red circle. Then another, and another…
Then he freezes, struck by a thought. He turns to Acxa, a wild grin on his face. She raises her eyebrows, looking worried.
“Can you take off your tights?”
“Perve.” Acxa’s tone is flat, but Keith knows she’s kidding. They’ve been close since they were twelve; there’s little that surprises them from each other anymore. “Dude, why?”
“Could you,” Keith grapples for words for a moment. “I dunno, dance on the canvas?”
“Oh!” Her face lights up and it makes Keith grin. Acxa will dance at any opportunity, even if she’s been in class all day. She’s been like that since they were kids, and it still makes Keith smile to see his best friend doing what she loves. “You mean like, put paint on my feet and dance on the canvas, so it’s like the piece is a physical record of the choreography?”
Keith nods fervently.
“Hell yeah!” She immediately starts pulling off her sneakers and leg warmers.
“Are you trying to seduce him or something?” Lance smirks from the studio door. He barely has time to set down his backpack before he’s smothered in a hug from Keith.
Acxa rolls her eyes. “Or something.”
“What are you guys up to?” Lance asks once Keith releases him, keeping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.
“Well,” Keith says, looking pointedly at Acxa who’s now clad only in her leotard. “We were just about to make passionate love amongst the paint. Care to join?”
“Oh, of course,” Lance says matter-of-factly, letting go of Keith and moving to sit on the floor next to his backpack.
“First, the paint,” Keith says. He pulls a bottle of black from the shelf and starts pouring it into a fresh tray.
“Then what?” Acxa deadpans. “Am I dancing or participating in a bisexual threesome?”
“Depends on how you’re feeling,” Lance calls from his spot by the door.
Acxa just rolls her eyes again. Keith announces the paint is ready and instructs Acxa to step in the tray, then perform whatever dance is least likely to kill her with her slicked soles. The moment Acxa begins moving on the canvas, Keith realises why no one he knows of has ever tried this before. Multiple times over the next few minutes, all three students make a number of unpleasant, high pitched sounds of which none of them knew they were capable. Keith and Lance stand on either side of the canvas, anxiously waiting to help Acxa in case she slips. And she does. A number of times. But she somehow manages to make it look graceful, and her clipped shouts probably only disturb Keith’s immediate studio neighbors. Lance’s reactions, on the other hand, have Nadia, Romelle, and Ryan careening into the studio to investigate.
Needless to say, the ordeal is more stress-inducing than any art ever should be, but despite Keith’s pleas for Acxa to abort mission, she persists through her routine, stubborn as always. When she’s finished, Keith hurriedly offers her a towel for her painted feet and shins.
“Damn,” Lance marvels while Keith cleans out the paint tray and Acxa mops up her legs. The finished piece is stunning, with the striking red blots Keith painted and the elegant swirls and smudges from Acxa’s dance. Keith and Acxa join Lance in admiring their work, all three students silently staring at the art before them.
“Now that,” Acxa grins, “is avant-fucking-garde.”
🪐🪐🪐
To Lance McPain
Veronica: MYSTERY GIRL TALKED TO ME TODAY
Lance McPain: woah and did you respond like a normal human being
Veronica: SHE ASKED ME WHAT TIME IT WAS
Veronica: LANCE YOU WERE RIGHT I AM IN LOVE SHE IS PERFECT
Lance McPain: ay dios mio
Veronica hates it when Lance is right about her love life, because who the hell would like it if their younger cis brother seemed to understand sapphics better than an actual sapphic?? Regardless, Veronica is way too giddy upon leaving her astro lecture today. Like, wayyyyy too giddy. She’s twenty two years old and acting like a seventh grader because a cute girl asked her for the time. Damn.
Realising she’s in very deep shit and needs to confer with her brother’s concerningly sage roommates, she pulls out her phone and sends another text to Lance: don’t you “ay dios mio” me. Can I come over again tonight?
Lance, being the screenager that he is, responds immediately with a fervent yes, exclaiming that the whole gang is coming over for a movie night anyway. Veronica sighs, knowing that “the whole gang” could mean any combination of people from just Pidge and Hunk, to Pidge, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Adam, Allura, Matt, and Romelle. Wanting to kill time before dinner, but not exactly wanting to do her homework, Veronica walks to the performing arts building to see if any of the student groups are in rehearsal. Though she’s never been one to perform herself, she’s always loved watching others–probably because she grew up with Lance singing a new song of his every other day at dinner. One of her close friends, Nadia, always seems to be in one Shakespeare production or another, and Veronica likes to watch rehearsal sometimes. Rehearsal rooms are nice–they are spaces of controlled chaos where even a STEM student can feel welcome in the bleachers.
Much to Veronica’s dismay, however, the studio that Nadia’s rehearsals are usually in is empty. She starts walking back up the hallway to leave when she notices a faint sound from behind her, like someone just started playing music in another room. Hoping this might be Nadia’s rehearsal or maybe Lance’s band, she moves deeper into the maze of practice studios. When she’s halfway down the hall, the music stops to be replaced by what Veronica recognises as Halsey’s “Castle”. Nodding along to the beat, she continues.
As she walks, she becomes more and more grateful for her cardigan because what the hell, it is cold in here! Pulling the knit material closer to her body, she reaches nearly the end of the hallway, where the music is spilling from an open studio door. Curious, Veronica peaks in from the hall (not that it’s hard–the door is fully open), and her jaw almost drops. Mystery Girl is a dancer. A very freaking good dancer.
Veronica, frozen where she stands, stares in awe. Yeah, she’s seen music videos, and she’s been to a younger sibling’s recital here and there, but she’s never been face to face with a college-level dancer. And holy shit, it is incredible. It’s like Mystery Girl is part of the song, moving with every minute note and beat. Veronica is further mesmerized because she can’t quite discern the style of the dance; it’s like Mystery Girl has married hip-hop and ballet, moving harshly with the beat whilst somehow weaving in moments of sweeping legato movements with her limbs.
Veronica is startled back to reality when the song ends. Mystery Girl relaxes from the finishing pose of the dance then grabs her water bottle from the floor. Veronica mentally shakes herself, the realisation dawning on her that this was a total invasion of privacy. She books it back down the studio hallway as quickly as she can, all the while reminding herself that the door was open, anyone could have seen inside. This wasn’t a complete invasion, right? But she’d just stood there and watched Mystery Girl’s whole dance! Surely that was shitty, regardless of the door being open? She groans under her breath, praying to all powers that might be that Mystery Girl didn’t notice her, because that would be bad.
🪐🪐🪐
Acxa knows someone was at the door. She takes a swig from her water bottle, trying to be nonchalant, then runs to the door to try and catch whoever was there. The hallway is empty. She silently curses herself for leaving the door open. Then she heaves a sigh; that was her own fault. Yeah, she doesn’t like being watched, but she guesses she doesn’t blame whoever was at the door for being curious. She’s still anxious though, knowing that had it been Keith, he’d have come inside and said hello, and he’s the only person who usually sees her dance one on one.
She sighs again, packing up her bag and closing up the studio. As a performance major, she should probably be used to people watching her by now; but somehow a single person is far more intimidating than a faceless crowd in a dark theatre.
The October air is frankly unwelcome after the freezing studio. Acxa pulls her sweatshirt hood over her indigo-dyed hair and begins the trek back to her dorm for a quiet evening of homework and Heartstopper.
🪐🪐🪐
Tonight, “the whole gang” turns out to be Lance, his roommates, Allura, and Romelle. When Veronica arrives at the apartment, she finds Lance, Pidge, and Allura sitting somberly in the small living room.
“Who died?” Veronica asks.
“My dignity,” Lance wails.
“We were banned from the kitchen,” Allura explains. “Apparently we are ‘a menace to all that chefs consider holy’.” She draws air quotes around the phrase, no doubt relaying Hunk’s words.
“Even you, ‘Lura?”
“Even me,” Allura says offhandedly while Lance remains looking wildly offended. Veronica is about to make a snarky remark to her brother about his theatrics, when he suddenly perks up from his moping slump and narrows his eyes at his sister.
“So, Ronnie,” he smirks, “what was so urgent that you wanted to come over tonight?”
It’s Veronica’s turn for theatrics. She rolls her eyes aggressively skyward and flops onto the worn blue sofa next to Pidge.
“Are you gatekeeping your friends now?” she shoots back at Lance.
“Personally, I’m on Team Veronica,” Pidge says. Lance looks at them incredulously.
“Is there some gossip we’re not aware of?” Allura asks.
Veronica heaves a sigh. “No, Pidge and Lance know. There’s this girl in Coran’s astro lecture who’s really interesting–”
“Interesting?”
“Yes, Lance, interesting. She’s also cute, I guess–”
“Ronnie.”
“Lance?”
Lance grins maniacally. “Shall I inform our friends here of what you texted me this afternoon?”
“Hey, don’t push,” Allura says. Lance shoots her a withering glare.
“She knows I’m joking. Right?” He looks at Veronica, momentarily concerned. She smiles at him. “You see,” Lance whips back to Allura. “Sibling telepathy.”
“Ugh, but he’s right,” Veronica groans, slumping deeper into the sofa. “I totally have a crush on her. And apparently I’m a freakin’ middle schooler again, because we’ve hardly ever spoken to each other!”
“Who’s a middle schooler?” Romelle appears from the kitchen and eagerly plops herself down next to Allura.
“Ronnie,” Pidge says. Romelle raises her eyebrows.
“I have a crush on someone I’ve barely spoken to,” Veronica supplies flatly.
“Oh,” Romelle perks up. “That’s easy. Talk to them!”
“We McClain’s are rather gifted social butterflies,” Lance says, raising his hands in front of him, as if to say “don’t come at me; I speak the truth”.
“I mean,” Romelle continues, “I was completely taken with Allura before we’d ever spoken a word to each other, and look how that turned out!” She pecks Allura on the cheek for emphasis.
“Same with Keith and I!” Lance says.
“The fuck you mean ‘Keith and you’?” Pidge snickers. “You two hated each other’s guts.”
“Yeah, until we didn’t.”
“This is really not the same thing,” Pidge says. “You two talked plenty before you realised you liked him.”
“Whatever.”
“This is incredibly unhelpful,” Veronica mopes.
“Well it’s not our fault you can’t talk to Mystery Girl,” Lance says.
“Who’s Mystery Girl?” Hunk asks, walking into the living room, apron still on, ladle in hand.
“This girl I like but haven’t talked to.”
“Oh easy,” Hunk says, leaning against the wall. “Just talk to her.”
Veronica groans, covering her face with her hands. “Can we just watch a movie already?”
Pidge immediately snatches the TV remote from the coffee table. “MY TURN! We are watching Revenge of The Sith, and no one can protest.”
No one protests.
This evening goes about as chaotically as movie nights usually go in this household. Only minutes into the film, Pidge remarks that they don’t understand the appeal of Hayden Christiansen, the response to which is Lance hauling a sofa cushion at their face so hard that they topple off their chair with a muffled whomph. No one dares badmouth Hayden Christiansen after that. The film is paused a number of times throughout its duration for reasons ranging from everyone getting up to retrieve dinner, to Romelle shrieking that there’s a spider and the subsequent chaos to catch it. By the final act of the film, the group has turned it into nothing more than a massive game of smash or pass. Pidge gets another pillow to the face when they declare Grievous as a smash.
🪐🪐🪐
It’s Thursday, and Veronica is five minutes late to Coran’s astronomy lecture. In her haste to make up for the time she lost oversleeping, her spatial awareness and general object permanence aren’t great right now, to say the least. Subsequently, she collides with someone coming from an adjacent hallway. The crash is, needless to say, pretty painful; but the throbbing in her left shoulder quails in comparison to the utter horror that washes over her when she sees that the person she smashed into has deep indigo hair.
Fuck.
Praying Mystery Girl doesn’t hold grudges, Veronica quickly hauls herself to her feet and offers her hand. Mystery Girl looks slightly dazed, like a very bright light has been shone directly into her eyes. She’s still sitting on the floor next to her fallen backpack. Noticing Veronica’s outstretched hand, Mystery Girl takes it and stands to face Veronica.
“‘Sorry’ does not even begin to describe it,” Veronica babbles. “I,I was in such a rush to get to, to get to my class–I wasn’t paying attention! Are you okay?”
“Coran’s astro lecture, right?” Mystery Girl says.
Veronica nods.
“I usually sit a few rows behind you; I recognise your bob,” she says, stone faced, but not unkindly. “No worries–I’ve had worse falls.”
Veronica is mildly stunned.
“I wasn’t really paying attention either,” Mystery Girl says, dropping her eyes, shyness suddenly replacing her cool demeanor.
Oh shit, she’s cute. NO. Think like a normal person, Ronnie! You just CrAShED into her!?!?!?!? This is NoT a meetcute. This is EMbaRaSsING.
What would Lance do?
“Regardless, I’m so sorry,” Veronica says, struck by a thought. “Can I get you coffee or something after class? As a peace offering?”
Mystery Girl smiles. It’s a small, shy thing, but it’s very, very endearing.
“There was never any feud, but okay,” she says. “We should get to class–er, you should.”
Veronica cocks her head in silent question. Mystery Girl explains as she picks up her backpack, “I’m a dance student, but I like to sit in on science lectures when I can. It’s like watching a documentary without all the dramatic music.”
With that, she starts walking towards the door to the lecture hall. Veronica follows suit.