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Shockingly, there are very few things to do in an ancient Altean castleship.
Well, that’s not quite true. Objectively, there’s a ton of shit to do. But there’s no, like, wifi or anything, so for Hunk, there’s very little in way of entertainment. His options are basically tinkering or tinkering with food. And he’s spent most of the day working on his real-life lightsaber (he’s got one that’s pretty much up and working, so he’s working on a second, now, because what’s the point of only one lightsaber?), so now he’s spending some time in the kitchens.
As he stirs some basil-like spice into a broth, he hears heavy stomping coming his way. He pauses, quickly trying to figure out who it is on sound alone. (It’s a fun little game he plays. He used to be a lot worse at it, but they’ve been in space with only each other long enough that he’s pretty decent, nowadays.)
Stomping usually means it’s Pidge, but these footsteps are a bit heavier than hers, as if it’s someone bigger. Allura tends to stomp when she’s angry, as well, but then there’s no rapid footsteps of someone running away from her in terror, so that’s a bust, too. It’s not Lance — Lance is completely silent when he walks, even when he’s mad, because he is a goober who thinks it’s funny to scare people when he spawns into a room. It’s not Coran, either, because there’s no characteristic click of his heeled boot or lively whistling to accompany the sound. And it can’t be Shiro, either, because not only has Hunk never heard him stomp, but Shiro’s arm always gives off a faint hum that you can hear just before you see him.
That leaves Keith. An angry Keith, at that, because usually Keith steps as quietly as Lance.
Hunk smiles as he continues stirring the broth. He can handle an angry Keith. Even if Keith doesn’t think he deserves it. Hunk will make sure he’s cared for properly.
Keith makes a noise of frustration when he enters the kitchen and sees Hunk already there.
“Why does every room on this stupid fucking castle have another person in it,” he growls.
Hunk shrugs. He knows the real answer to that question — if Keith really wanted to be alone, he’d go to his room, or even a random broom closet. The castle has thousands of rooms, and there are only seven people living on it. Keith is coming to the kitchen because, whether he knows it or not, he wants company. He just doesn’t want to admit it.
Like a cat, one might say.
(In his head, of course. If Hunk said that out loud, Keith might actually claw him.
…You know. Also like a cat.
Heh.)
“Odd,” Hunk says instead. “Sorry to hear that. Do you want some soup?”
“I don’t want any fucking soup,” Keith snaps. Hunk turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. He stares at him, unblinking, until Keith slumps forward, resting his forehead on the table with a sigh.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m just… mad, for no reason. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you.”
“Apology accepted,” Hunk says, scooping some soup into a mug. He figures if Keith really doesn’t want it, he can just leave it.
He sits next to Keith at the table, setting the mug on the table and patting the red paladin’s head delicately.
“What’s up, bud? Overwhelmed?”
Keith nods, but doesn’t lift his head up.
“Ah,” Hunk says, moving his hand. “Probably don’t want to be touched, then.”
“Mmph,” Keith says, and then grapples for Hunk’s hand without looking. Hunk let’s him, amused. When Keith finally grabs a hold of it — and Hunk has to help by moving a little closer — he puts the hand back on his head. “Not that kind of overwhelmed. Everything is just — mean. In my head. Anxious, or whatever.”
As soon as it clicks, Hunk softens. He begins carding his hands through Keith’s hair, which seems to be the right thing to do.
“I see,” he says gently. “That sucks. I get that all the time.”
Keith lets out a deep, heavy breath. “What do you do?”
“Finds someone to sit with. Looks like you’ve already done that, though.”
“Then what?”
“Have them talk to me. It’s nice, hearing someone else’s voice. Makes things less lonely, quiets the voice in my own head.”
“…Can you do that for me?”
Hunk reaches forward with his free hand and squeezes Keith’s shoulder.
“Sure thing, buddy.”
He starts talking — random, unconnected things at first — and eventually launches into a stupid story about something he and Lance did when they were little, some precarious situation Mrs. McClain invariably had to save them from.
“You talk about Lance a lot,” Keith says after Hunk finishes. He’s finally managed to shift around a little, crossing his arms on the table under his head, and moving to face Hunk. “He talks about you, too.”
“Mhm. I can imagine. We grew up together, so most of the dumb shit we got into we did together.”
Keith cracks a smile. “Let me guess — all Lance’s ideas?”
“I would love to put the blame on Lance. Unfortunately, I am also a dumbass.”
Hunk’s tease is rewarded with Keith’s raspy laughter.
“I guess I can see that. You do like to tell people exactly what you think.”
“Yeah. You feeling better, buddy?”
Keith nods. “I am, actually. It’s never gone away this fast. Thank you, Hunk.”
“Anytime, dude.” Hunk nudges the half-forgotten mug into Keith’s vision. “Drink that. Then you’re coming with me.”
“Where are we going?” Keith asks, dutifully chugging the contents.
“Well,” Hunk says, standing and stretching, “I’ve been working on this little project. I think you might be interested. You ever wondered if lightsabers could be real?”
They’ve been in space for roughly two years, now.
Hunk has never seen Keith perk up so fast.
“Uh, yeah! Every single day! Let’s go! Woah, do you think we could have a lightsaber fight? That’s be awesome!”
Keith nearly runs out of the kitchen, energy restored. Hunk grins.
Looks like there’s lots to do, after all.