Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One of Hunk’s first words was “food” and he thought that was more than fitting. Hunk was cooking corned beef and taro before he learnt to ride a bike. On his twelfth birthday, his mother got him an apron that read: When I cook, I wear my cape backwards. His friends would roll their eyes when they came over after school, but they’d be fools to say no to Hunk’s sapasui. His family always knew when he was stressed; they just had to check the fridge for freshly baked panikeke and muffins.

While his family loved Hunk’s cooking, they wouldn’t support it as anything more than a hobby. “You have a good brain,” his father said. “Don’t waste it.” So, at the age of fifteen, Hunk enrolled in the Garrison’s mechanical engineering program and was offered a full scholarship, much to his parents’ pride. Hunk tried to ignore the gut feeling that this was a diversity offer. He’d be the first Samoan cadet to join the program. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was the first Samoan to get into the university. The Garrison had an insanely low acceptance rate.

This would be the farthest he’d been from home. The Garrison was located smack bang in the middle of Nowhereville, Arizona. If they weren’t elitist enough already, they seemed hellbent on making their campus as inaccessible as possible—there was only one bus from Phoenix per day. Already exhausted from the train ride to Phoenix, Hunk’s leaden feet dragged him to the bus station, where he settled in for an hour of waiting. Luckily, he’d packed a container of stir fry for exactly this occasion.

As he scooped up a forkful, he heard an honest-to-goodness stomach grumble to his left. “Ugh, that smells so good,” the stomach grumbler said.

Hunk turned to see another boy, probably his age, limbs stretched out over the bench they were sitting on. “You can have some, if you’d like,” Hunk offered immediately. “I’ve got plenty to spare.”

The boy’s eyes lit up and he scooted closer. “For real? Oh my god, dude, you’re the best!”

Hunk laughed, pulling another container and plastic fork from his bag and scooping half of the stir fry into it. “I’m Hunk, by the way,” he said, passing the container to the other boy.

“Lance.” He grinned, accepting the fork gratefully. He twirled the noodles around his fork and took a bite. Then another. And another. “Holy cow! What did you put in this?” he asked between mouthfuls.

Hunk grinned slyly. “That would be my special sauce.”

“Well, whatever that is, you sir, are a god among man.”

“Did you have a long trip?” Hunk asked.

Lance’s sigh said it all. “You don’t know the half of it. Three buses, two trains, and delays a woman could get pregnant and give birth during.

Hunk nodded sympathetically. “I feel you, man. I flew in from Hawaii then trained from San Fran.”

“If I never have to step foot on a train again, I’ll die a happy man,” Lance said.

“Amen to that.”

As much as Lance would insist that Hunk was his hero, he felt he could just as easily say the same about the other. Hunk hated to admit that he got homesick but he had thrown up twice when he had to leave his parents for a week in eighth grade. Lance’s constant chatter was a lifesaver. A handful of other newbies had joined them over the next hour and by the time the bus arrived, Hunk was pretty sure everyone knew Lance McClain.

But Hunk was the one Lance elected to sit next to on the bus. And for that he was eternally grateful.

“So, what are you doing at the Garrison?” Lance asked.

“Mech engineering, you?” Hunk crossed his fingers, knowing the chances of them being in the same course were slim.

“Ah, I’m in aviation,” he said and Hunk could swear he heard a hint of disappointment in his voice. Then, with a bit more confidence: “I’m gonna be a pilot. Maybe you could be my engineer!”

“Yeah,” Hunk agreed, smiling again. “Yeah, maybe I could!”

Hunk was surprised at how quick the trip was. Lance was like a time vortex, sucking you in and spitting you out into the future within mere seconds of opening his mouth. Falling asleep also might’ve helped. “Hunk,” Lance whispered, shaking his shoulder. “Buddy, wake up. We’re here.”

Hunk blinked a few times, trying to remember who he was before he even attempted to discern where he was. Everyone else was already piling out of the bus, glad to finally stretch their legs, unloading bags and passing them around like hot potatoes. It was… oddly sweet that Lance waited for everyone else to pass before moving out of his seat. Hunk thought it was only fair to help Lance with his luggage in return. He was shocked that the other boy had brought two large suitcases with him. Hunk could swear there was just one when they met at the bus stop.

The rest of the new cadets were crowding around a young woman in a grey uniform holding a clipboard. Hunk and Lance joined them. She went through the welcome spiel, talking about what a pleasure it was to have them, how they would enjoy their time at the Garrison, and so on. She explained the itinerary for the rest of the day: dorms, lunch, tour, downtime, introductory speech from the Director, dinner, then downtime again before bed. There had been some other details that Hunk soon forgot when he noticed Lance vibrating beside him. Ah, she was reading the dorms list. Hunk didn’t want to get his hopes up, so he tried to distract himself by counting the number of badges worn by the officer. She was more decorated than his family’s tree at Christmas. Surely, that must be heavy-

“2F. Lance McClain and Hunk Garrett.”

Lance gasped, whipping around to look at Hunk. “No-”

“-way,” Hunk finished.

Lance was practically skipping down the hall, which should’ve been impossible while lugging two suitcases. Hunk was keeping an eye on the door numbers. They’d just passed 2E, so the next one would be-

“Let’s go!” Lance cheered, swiping the brand-new key card they’d been given, triggering the door to open with a satisfying voosh.

Their dorm was a bare, 8-by-8-foot room with a bunk bed against one wall and a bare desk with a black swivel chair sitting opposite.

Lance rushed into the room, suitcase almost leaving twin trails of fire behind it. “I dibs top bunk!”

Hunk exhaled softly. That worked well for both of them because there was no way in hell he was climbing up a rickety ladder and giving himself a heart attack every night just to sleep.

He followed Lance into the room, placing down his luggage and taking a moment to look out the window. From their room, they had a nice view of the Garrison courtyard. Hunk could see other students mingling or studying in small groups.

Lance grabbed his arm. “Alright pal, it’s time to check out the cafeteria!”

Hunk’s stomach grumbled. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

A small group had gathered at the end of their hall, circling around a tall man with black hair, shaved at the sides. He had a warm smile and was wearing a similar uniform to the officer that had first welcomed them.

“Alright, is this everyone?” he asked as Hunk and Lance joined the group. He took a moment to count them in his head, then nodded. Satisfied. “Excellent.”

Lance nodded back, which Hunk found quite amusing.

“My name’s Shiro,” the officer said. “Welcome aboard the Garrison.”

Chapter Text

There was not a single doubt in Lance’s mind that Shiro was the coolest man to have ever lived. Hunk had deduced this after about five minutes of Lance saying as much when they got back to their dorm that night. “And he’s a pilot too!” Lance said from the bathroom where he was making use of the items formerly kept in the Lance’s second suitcase. The cabinet above the sink now belonged to Lance’s skincare products. Not that Hunk needed much space anyway. All he’d brought was shampoo, a bar of soap and a toothbrush.

“Yeah, did he say he’d be teaching any classes?”

“Uhh…” Hunk gave him a moment to focus on whatever he was doing. “I didn’t have a chance to ask, but I think he said to like, ask him for help whenever I need it.”

“Whenever we need it,” Hunk corrected.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance’s hand poked out of the bathroom door, waving him off. “But me and Shiro have got a connection, y’know?”

“Uhuh.” Hunk was now in his pyjamas, watching Lance in the mirror as he slathered goo on his face. “You nearly done?”

Lance’s reflection raised an eyebrow at him. “It takes time to refine an artwork such as this,” he said, gesturing to his face and winking. “But if you need to grab your toothbrush, I can move.”

“Oh.” Hunk’s shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t even realised they were tense. “Yeah, thanks, buddy.”

“No problem.”

“Do you mind if I call my mom?” Lance asked, suddenly stepping out of the bathroom.

Hunk was already lying in bed, staring up at the slats of Lance’s bunk. “Yeah, go for it, man.”

Hunk had thought about calling his parents but didn’t want to seem childish, as ridiculous as it sounded. Lance just seemed really cool. Like yeah, he’d shown he was a dork, but this guy was able to make friends with just about anyone. He didn’t seem like the type to get homesick. Yet here he was, voice brightening as his mom answered the phone.

As he listened to Lance prattle on, sometimes in Spanish, sometimes in English, Hunk found his eyes slowly begin to droop. The mattress was a little hard but he was utterly exhausted from the day. Tomorrow would be good. It was their first day of classes.

“There’s no way you have to sign up for a compulsory sport,” Hunk groaned over his eggs and toast.

“There is a way,” Lance reminded him. “And that way is plastered all over the noticeboards on every third wall of this building.”

“I know, I know. Please don’t remind me.”

“But we need to sign up for the same sport! We’ve gotta be each other’s cheer squads!”

Hunk rolled his eyes, taking a sip of juice. “Alright, you got me, buddy.”

Lance leaned over the table, dangerously close to Hunk’s breakfast plate, which he shifted closer to himself. “We have two options,” Lance explained, counting them on his fingers. “Basketball or volleyball.”

“I swear there was a—”

“Nope! Shush now.” Lance pressed a finger to Hunk’s lips. “These are our two options.”

Hunk sighed in resignation. “I dunno man, volleyball seems more chill, I guess.”

Lance laughed at this, leaning back into his seat—Hunk’s sausages were safe, at last. “Oh Hunk, my sweet summer child. You have no idea how dangerous volleyball can be.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “I hope you know that Haikyuu isn’t real.”

“How dare you.”

Both of them were grinning.

“Catch you after class?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

Hunk savoured his final bite of breakfast, then cleared away the dishes for the table. “Thanks, Hunk!” one of the other cadets said, smiling. She was also a “rookie” as the older cadets called them. She was enrolled in communications, Hunk recalled.

As he was leaving the cafeteria, Hunk stopped by the noticeboards. Might as well put his name down for volleyball and be over it. So far, only one other person had signed up. Keith Kogane.

Hunk’s first class was… not as terrifying as he thought it’d be. It was mainly just icebreakers and checking prior knowledge. Half the lesson was spent completing equations, which was fine… The real fun would be when they started their practicals. Hunk wondered how Lance was going. He wasn’t sure what pilots did. Probably a lot of math, too. Hunk was never much of a theory guy. He much preferred pulling things apart to understand their machinations. Though, he supposed, when a plane is in the air, you can’t risk pulling the engine apart to determine the error.

Hunk shuddered at the thought. He’d never been a fan of heights.

By the time lunch arrived, he was weeping with joy. Differentials made him hungrier than anything. The aviation cadets hadn’t arrived in the cafeteria yet, though Hunk remembered Lance complaining about his class being at the far end of campus. He collected a tray and joined the queue for what smelled like nachos, cheese-flavoured cheese and all. His niece and nephew found it hilarious when Hunk complained about nachos. Seriously? Do they not have enough cheese already without dumping artificial powder all over it? If the cheese is even cheese, that is. Still, Hunk wasn’t one to complain about food to the servers. Cooking for three hundred plus students every day was a monumental task and one to be respected.

So, Hunk accepted his pile of cheese-flavoured cheese with a warm smile and made sure to collect an apple to chase it down.

As he found a seat, he saw a new batch of cadets enter the large hall. Among them was one Lance McClain, who caught his eye and waved wildly. Hunk laughed and waved back.

Lance sat across from Hunk with a loud sigh. “You are not going to believe this.”

Hunk leaned forward attentively, allowing his friend to continue.

“So, like, we had this test, right?” Lance began. “They had us all in the flight simulators—insanely cool tech by the way—to test our skills.” He provided air quotes to highlight that last part. Lance shovelled a plastic forkful of nachos into his mouth. “Man, these are the blandest nachos I’ve ever had.”

“Tell me about it,” Hunk agreed. “Could do with some salsa, and I mean real salsa… Not whatever that red slop is they offered.”

“My abuela makes the best salsa,” said Lance. “She says the secret ingredient is love but…” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I’m pretty sure it’s something else.”

“Hate?”

Lance let out a single very loud laugh. Then, a few smaller chuckles. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “That was just so out-of-pocket. I didn’t expect it.”

Hunk smiled slyly. “Just like your abuela’s secret ingredient. It’s something that you least expect.”

“You know… you might be onto something there.”

In that moment, the cheese-flavoured cheese didn’t seem so bad. Hunk could swallow it without wincing and everything. “Anyway, your uh… skills test,” Hunk prompted, mimicking Lance’s air quotes.

“Right! So, we’re taking these test simulations and the guy before me, Keith, just… doesn’t seem to care?” Hunk could tell this Keith guy was going to be important to the story. “Like, he’s not nervous, but he’s not acting cocky or anything either. He jumps in the simulator and gets a ninety-three. Do you know who the last person to get a ninety-three was?”

Hunk indulged him. “Who?”

Lance stared him dead in the eyes. “Takashi-freaking-Shirogane. And that was on his twelfth try. Then Keith Kogane just waltzes in, gets a ninety-three first try and just shrugs it off like it’s no big deal!”

Keith Kogane. Now, why did that name seem familiar?

“And I’m just expected to follow that? I’m just meant to be calm, go through the motions like it’s no big deal when Mr Big Deal steps out of that simulator—”

Hunk nodded.

“Of course I flunked it. Like, I’m good, but the dude threw me off!”

“It happens.”

“Yeah, it happens, but now I’ve been lumped in with the cargo pilots.”

“Oh,” said Hunk. “I’m sure it’s just a temporary thi—”

“No,” Lance interrupted. “I’m stuck with cargo for the rest of the semester. Maybe even the rest of my life, knowing my luck.”

“Well, it can’t be that bad.” Hunk tried to find something reassuring to say. “Cargo pilots are super important too, you know.”

“Have you ever seen a cargo ship do a barrel roll?”

“No, but—”

“Have you ever seen a cargo ship fly over Mach 1?”

Hunk sighed. “I mean, it’s hard to tell.”

Lance put his face in his hands. “I came all this way… I just- It just makes me feel so…”

“Small?” Hunk offered.

“Yeah.” Lance’s shoulders slumped. He looked up with a weak smile. “Sorry, I just made this all about me, huh?”

Hunk shrugged. “I don’t mind. I just did math all morning.”

Lance laughed, though Hunk knew it was just for his benefit. “At least none of those equations have a mullet.”

Chapter Text

It was Hunk’s third week at the Garrison. It was exhausting, but the good kind. Like when he’s been cooking for two hours and his bones are aching but he finally gets to sit down and eat the most gorgeous burrito bowl his taste buds have ever encountered. Lance said there was no better taste than free food but by principle, Hunk could not agree. Not when the taste of his own dedicated handiwork existed.

“You doing anything after class?” asked Sasha. “We’re gonna get ice cream.” She had sat next to Hunk last Tuesday and offered him a stick of gum. It was blueberry.

Since then, they continued to sit together and she introduced him to Jin. Jin was quieter than Hunk and Sasha, usually offering one-word responses to questions. Today, Hunk had found the key to Jin’s heart. While they had been solving integrals, Hunk had made a passing comment about how this room would be full of empty chairs at empty tables by the end of the semester. Jin had immediately picked up on the reference and even joked, “I hope not because they’re dead and gone.”

It was just a small thing but seeing Jin’s wide smile made Hunk glad he’d watched Les Miserables with his mom in high school. Hunk was by no means a theatre nerd, but he always loved the French Revolution. So, this was his mother’s compromise—a loosely ‘historical’ musical film starring Wolverine and Karen from Mean Girls.

Normally, Hunk would apologise and say that he was catching up with someone else, but that someone else had hardly been around all week. It seemed like the only time Hunk saw Lance was when he came back to their dorm at 9pm, staggered into the bathroom, then exited half an hour later and flopped into bed.

So, this time when Sasha asked, Hunk smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m down.”

“Oh. My. God,” said Hunk. “Fifty-three flavours?” His mouth watered as he surveyed the glass cabinets in front of them.

The girl behind the counter laughed. “First time?” she asked.

Sasha punched Hunk lightly in the arm. “Yeah, can you believe it? This nerd didn’t even know we had an ice cream café.”

Hunk let Sasha and Jin pick their flavours first. He needed time to assess all options and calculate the best possible combination.

“We come here every week,” Jin said, reading his mind.

Sasha nodded, licking her pistachio and oreo double scoop. “I’m on a mission to try every flavour. Today marks eleven and twelve out of fifty-three.”

Finally, Hunk settled on boysenberry and double choc. Chocolate and berry combos never failed.

“Nice choice,” the girl behind the counter said. Hunk read her badge: Tash. “Boysenberry’s my favourite.”

“Right?” Hunk agreed. “It’s just the perfect mix of sweet—”

“—and tart,” she finished. “I’m Tash, by the way. Short for Pistachio.”

Hunk almost dropped his cone. “Really?”

She laughed, removing her gloves. “No, it’s just Natasha. But my dad jokes it was this close,” she held her pointer finger and thumb less than an inch apart, “to being Pistachio.”

“It’s not the weirdest name I’ve heard,” said Hunk. “I’m Hunk.”

Sasha cracked up at the look on Tash’s face.

It was the first time they’d had lunch together all week. Hunk had started bringing his own seasonings in his book bag. Lance had called him a godsend when they saw the menu: mashed potatoes, sausages, and overcooked green beans.

“Which one did you say he was?” Hunk asked, looking over his shoulder very inconspicuously.

“The brown hair with the swoop— Would you turn around?” Lance hissed, leaning over the table to tug at Hunk’s sleeve.

“Oh, sorry.” Hunk immediately turned around again, just catching a glimpse of the guy Lance was talking about. “Swoopy hair, long chin? Got it.”

When Hunk turned back to his friend, Lance’s face was in his hands. “Buddy, I love you, but please don’t humiliate me in front of the one guy in class that might actually tolerate me.”

Hunk looked down at his tray. The one guy… “I thought everyone liked you?”

Lance laughed dryly. “Ah, that old chestnut.” He lifted his head from his hands. “Nope. Everyone hates me.”

“Well… I don’t hate you.”

“Yet,” Lance corrected, grinning widely.

That was when Hunk noticed the bloodshot eyes and not-so-pristinely combed hair. “Lance,” he said, fiddling with his fork. “Are you okay, man?”

“Of course!” Lance said, grin not leaving his face.

It was way too crowded in the cafeteria. Lance wasn’t saying anything here. Hunk picked up his tray and stood. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

Lance reluctantly followed. He didn’t have much of a choice with Hunk.

Once they were outside, a visible weight slipped off Lance’s shoulders. The weather was getting cooler as they neared late October and Hunk could finally go outside in his cadet uniform without sweating into a puddle. “So,” Hunk began, kicking a small stone. “What’s up?”

Lance sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “When I joined the Garrison, I thought things would be… different, I guess.”

Hunk waited, prompting Lance to continue.

“I honestly didn’t think I’d even be accepted. I was never as smart as Veronica.”

“Veronica?”

“My sister,” he clarified. “She’s an analyst.”

Hunk looked at him. “Like, an analyst here?”

“Yep,” Lance said, popping the ‘p’ at the end. He avoided Hunk’s eyes, a hint of a smile entering his voice. “She was so proud when I got accepted. She even tried to bake a cake and uh… She’s not like you, Hunk. It was horrifying.”

Hunk exhaled softly. Lance was back to cracking jokes. He'd be okay.

“Classes have been really hard, man. Not, like, mentally but it’s hard to get out of your own head when everything is ranked. They have a freaking leaderboard outside the classroom!”

Hunk frowned. “That’s messed up, dude.”

“You’re telling me.”

“But that doesn’t mean no one likes you,” Hunk added.

“I’m not gonna debate you on that,” Lance said, waving a hand aside. “We’ve got much more urgent problems. For starters, the group project I told you about earlier. The one where I got stuck with—”

“Swoopy hair?”

“Yeah, James Griffin. And he’s a total stick in the mud. Like… by the book. He probably uses a manual to comb his hair. And he’s constantly sucking Iverson’s dick.”

Hunk decided not to mention that Lance was just like this about Shiro.

“He also hates Keith’s guts.”

“Iverson?”

“No, well, yes, he does too. I meant Griffin.”

“Don’t you hate Keith’s guts?”

“I mean, yeah. What we’ve got is more like a rivalry. Half the things Griffin says about him aren’t even true. Like he thinks the simulator was rigged since Keith knows Shiro or something. Keith might be annoying, but he is a good pilot.”

Hunk smirked. “Even with the mullet?”

Lance didn’t seem to notice Hunk’s teasing. “What’s insane is that all the girls think he’s hot.” Lance emphasised his point with air quotes. “He never comes to class and his group doesn’t even seem to care. Meanwhile, Griffin has been setting me homework.”

Hunk stifled a laugh. “Oh man, he’ll make a great officer.”

Lance huffed. “Can’t believe that prude is fighter class.”

As Hunk opened his mouth to speak, they were interrupted by a loud rumble. The gravel at their feet bounced as Hunk lifted his eyes to see a red blur rapidly approaching. He barely managed to stumble out of the way as the bike roared past, kicking up dust in its wake. Lance wasn’t so lucky, tripping and landing on his backside. Hunk coughed as granules of dirt slipped into his airway. “What.” Cough. “Was that?”

Lance wiped his hands aggressively down his pant legs, glaring all the while at the motorbike retreating into the distance. Hunk hadn’t been able to recognise the rider, but Lance had in an instant.

“That damn mullet.”

Chapter Text

“This is a social sport, right?” Hunk asked as they walked down the hall. He swore he could feel every cadet they passed by staring at them. He and Lance wore matching blue jerseys. Hunk had no idea where Lance had found them—or how he knew his size. Lance’s shirt was emblazoned with a white number 5 and Hunk’s was number 8.

Lance scoffed, winking at a passing female cadet. “One does not simply play volleyball socially, my dear Hunk.”

“O-kay.” Hunk sighed. He was in for it now.

Hunk’s shoulders relaxed when they reached the Garrison gym. The others there seemed to be wearing the same blue jerseys. Most of them were chatting but a couple in the corner were doing warm-up stretches. He felt Lance sharply inhale behind him.

Hunk turned to ask what was up but Lance was already on the floor, bending his whole body forward and holding the palms of his hands flat against the arches of his feet. Hunk wasn’t even going to pretend to try that. Instead, he slowly lifted his left arm, pulling it across his chest. He never really understood the purpose of these arm stretches but HPE teachers seemed to swear by it, so it must be important.

The gym was much bigger than Hunk had expected. There were two basketball courts and four volleyball courts. A grandstand was rolled out for players to leave their belongings. A few cadets were sitting on the third level. They were probably here to watch their friends. Or just to watch boys get hot and sweaty, judging by how they were whispering and pointing in the direction of the players warming up. There was a grandstand on the opposite side of the gym that had been pushed up against the wall to make more space.

Hunk was startled by a sharp whistle. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned in the direction of the sound. Standing tall in a black tank top and shorts, volleyball under one arm and silver whistle dangling around his neck was Takashi Shirogane. A few cadets instinctively moved their arms to salute but Shiro waved his free hand at them. “Please,” he said. Then, raising his voice: “Welcome cadets, new and old, to the first volleyball session of the semester!”

Everyone clapped and cheered.

“Now, I understand that for most, this is a social sport.” He was talking about Hunk, wasn’t he? Hunk scanned the faces of the other cadets, serious and eager. Yeah, he was definitely talking about Hunk. “But here at the Garrison, we encourage all cadets to push themselves to their limits.”

Hunk glanced over at Lance who, as expected, was nodding enthusiastically.

“Which is why we’ll have Court 1 reserved for players wishing to join our competitive teams. Today, we’ll be deciding our teams and official training will begin Wednesday morning. Courts two to four are free to all our social players. Balls are in the basket against the wall.”

The cadets split, slowly forming groups on each court.

“I’ll catch ya later?” Lance said, pointing a thumb back at Court 1.

“Yeah, go on. Have fun, you crazy kid,” Hunk said, smiling. He spotted one of his classmates and waved, jogging over to join her. “Hey, Patricia!”

By the end of the hour, most of the players were lying on the grandstand, puffed and sweaty. The competitive players were still going at it, though.

On one side, Lance stood, legs apart, knees bent. Poised to strike the moment his opponent served. What he lacked in power, Lance more than made up for in reach. There was an elegance to the way he extended his arms, executing a perfect dig from the back zone.

On the other side was the mysterious Keith Kogane—Lance’s alleged nemesis and piloting prodigy. He was a scrawny-looking guy, which surprised Hunk. Keith seemed so small in his loose-fitting jersey and shorts reaching his knees. Dark hair covered his face but Hunk had no doubt beneath those bangs were a pair of laser-focused eyes. He was a blur on the court and a menace at the net, spiking almost every return made by Lance. Both were competitive, though each had very different styles. Lance was defence while Keith was offence.

Lance had just made what looked like an impossible save. “Woo!” Hunk yelled, standing up. “Go Lance!” There was no way he hadn’t won the point.

But Keith was fast. And aggressive. The ball never seemed to last more than a second on his side. It was like Keith and Lance were the only two on the court. The ball flew between them like a child between divorced parents in a custody battle. Custardy. Hunk licked his lips. Mm, custard sounded nice. Maybe he could find the Garrison’s elusive communal kitchen after this… make a souffle.

After an eternity of sneaker squeaking, Shiro looked satisfied. “Alright, let’s wrap it up! Huddle around and we’ll talk positions.”

Hunk went to collect their stuff while Lance joined the team huddle. He knew he’d hear all about it in a couple of minutes.

When Lance joined him, Hunk could taste the frustration radiating off his friend in waves.

“Can you believe it?” Lance threw his hands in the air. “I’m a reserve, meanwhile one of the guys actually on the team can hardly serve.”

“I mean, Shiro did say you were good,” Hunk said. “Just…”

“Just that I need to be a ‘team player’. But did you even see the others going after the ball?”

“Well…” Hunk began.

“No!” Lance interrupted. “They were just there, stiff as freaking Iverson. Without me, they’re basically defenceless!”

Maybe if you actually gave them a chance, thought Hunk. “It’s okay, dude,” he said instead, placing an arm over Lance’s shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll be off the bench in no time.”

Lance sighed. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Hey, tell you what,” Hunk said. “How about I make us some souffle to celebrate you making the team?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The kitchen was surprisingly nice. Plenty of bench space, a decently stocked pantry (and by that, it meant there was flour without any bugs infesting it), and a wide window that flooded the room with natural light. “I could start an herb garden here,” he mused, mentally checking the measurements.

Lance was flipping through a couple of the magazines left on the bench. They were some of those home and lifestyle magazines that mothers loved. The ones that sorta spawned onto the coffee table without explanation. They always had some simple recipes to cook for the family—pot roasts, deep dish bakes, sponge cakes, and the mandatory gluten free or vegan recipes.

“Hey Lance,” Hunk said, digging through the drawers for a whisk. “Could you grab me some eggs, butter and milk?”

“Yeah, sure.” Behind him, Hunk heard the scraping of Lance’s stool. “How many eggs do ya need?”

“Two, please!” A-ha! He’d found the whisk. Hunk placed it beside the mixing bowl on the benchtop.

Lance asked if he could crack one of the eggs. Hunk nodded. “Just remember we’ll need to separate the yolks and whites.”

“Kinda racist, if you ask me,” Lance joked.

Hunk rolled his eyes, smiling. “They’ll be reunited in the end.”

Lance was the most careful Hunk had ever seen him as he expertly transferred white and yolk between shells before transferring them into separate bowls.

“Something tells me you’ve done this before,” Hunk said, gently stirring the broth on the stove.

Lance shrugged, smiling bashfully. “Did a lot of baking with my sisters.”

“My, my,” a familiar voice said from the doorway. “What do we have here?”

Hunk wasn’t able to turn around but the change in Lance was instant. “The name’s Lance,” he said. And Hunk knew he was making that face while holding out his hand.

Hunk also knew that Tash had taken that hand and shook it as she replied: “I’m Tash. I see Hunk has finally found the kitchen.”

Lance looked between the two of them as Hunk carefully poured the broth into the mixing bowl. “You two know each other?”

Hunk smiled. “Hi Tash.”

“How come you never introduced me?” Lance pouted.

“I did invite you to ice cream after class on Tuesday.”

“Wait, is she in your class?”

“No.”

“You know I’m right here, right?”

Hunk blushed, shifting his focus back to the mixing bowl. “Sorry.”

Tash smiled, folding her arms. “I work at the ice cream café.”

“Ice cream, huh?” Hunk didn’t like the sly tone entering Lance’s voice. “I’d love a double scoop of younilla, please.”

Tash laughed and Hunk groaned. “You’d have to try the vanilla first. Though, speaking of vanilla…” Tash moved closer to where Hunk was folding the batter with a silicone spatula. “What are you guys making?”

“Vanilla souffle,” said Hunk. “Which would pair perfectly with custard.”

“Well, now you’re making me hungry.”

“I’ve been hungry since I—”

“Lance.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Chapter Text

The air was getting cooler and so was Hunk’s attitude towards cafeteria food. It was the first time he’d been in a while since finding the student kitchens.

Unfortunately, midterms were kicking him in the butt and didn’t have the time or energy to cook.

“But what about your 2am baking sprees?” Lance asked.

“Those don’t count,” Hunk said flatly. “I mean real food.”

Lance nodded pointedly at their trays in front of them. Yeah, real food. They ate in silence for two minutes before Lance finally decided to say whatever had been on his mind for one and a half of those minutes.

"You know how women's magazines always have those fun recipes?" Lance said between bites of his sandwich.
"Mhm." Hunk frowned at his own sandwich. They'd only put half a slice of tomato in. Cheapskates.
"Where are the recipes in men's magazines?"

Hunk shrugged. “Dunno. Probably can’t fit between the huge lawnmowers and Axe body spray.”

Lance snorted. “Real,” he agreed. “Though it is funny since aren’t most chefs male?”

“Yeah, they are.” Hunk sighed. “I think it’s that distinction between professional and domestic cooking. Like, ‘real men’ are too manly to waste their skills cooking for the family.”

Lance nodded, licking his fingers clean. “I guess that makes sense. Still kinda dumb, though.”

“Well, not much we can do about that.”

“You know what else we can’t do much about?” Lance asked, his voice notably rising in pitch.

Hunk perked up ever-so-slightly. “Dunno, man. What?”

“Iverson,” he said firmly. “He has been such an ass lately. I’ve been showing up to classes early, revising my notes every night and he’s always picking on me.”

“Mhm.” Hunk let him continue.

“I just wish I could do something… Something to get him back, y’know?”

“Like revenge?”

“Pssh, no. More like… a friendly nudge. A reminder to show a little more empathy.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get yourself kicked out.”

“Of course not,” Lance said, indignantly. Then, in a sweeter tone: “I’m trying to get us kicked out.”

Hunk gently shoved his shoulder. “Dude, shut up.” Then, after a pause: “But seriously, what are you planning?”

Lance snickered.

Hunk leaned closer over the table.

Lance furrowed his brow.

Then relaxed it.

“Dunno yet.”

Hunk pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “No kidding.”

“Buuuut,” Lance sang. “I have complete faith in that beautiful brain of yours, amigo.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

That evening, it was settled. They weren’t going to do anything too crazy. Just a little something to get Iverson off Lance’s back; maybe even off a lot of students’ backs. A small prank. Well, a medium-sized prank, as it did take a little more finessing than a whoopee cushion. That idea was too childish according to Lance. But Hunk could admit that this wasn’t the worst prank idea.

“Are you sure this will work?” Lance asked quietly, staring up at the ceiling.

“My brother in Christ, it was your idea,” Hunk hissed back.

“Yeah, but—”

“Go to sleep, Lance.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

After what felt like an eternity, the rustling blankets on the bunk above stopped moving and Hunk could finally sleep.

The next morning, Phase 1 of their plan was set into motion. Iverson always liked to be the first to the coffee machine in the Officers’ mess hall each morning. Hunk had managed to receive this intel from Professor Holt, who was always happy to regale his students with tales of his colleagues. This particular tidbit was brought up following another key piece of information: Iverson’s favourite mug was hot pink and read ‘This Barbie needs more coffee.’

Shiro always liked to sleep in as long as humanly possible and every now and again, would offer his keys to an all-too-eager freshman to get his coffee for the second he stepped outside his dorm. Today, that all-too-eager freshman was Lance McClain. And he was in the mess hall accompanied by Hunk in the beautiful 5am fluorescent lights.

Hunk had a small Ziploc bag containing the necessary ingredients to their first step of the plan which Lance had aptly named ‘Mission Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice.’

They made their preparations uninterrupted and then set to work on Shiro’s coffee. Unfortunately for their senior officer, he’d be receiving his coffee a little earlier than he’d prefer. Hunk had added two muffins as recompense.

The second phase of their plan was a little more complex. It would require gaining access to Iverson’s dorm. Now, Hunk was good with computers, but he wouldn’t call himself a ‘hacker’ by any means. Lance had played hundreds of hours of the old Cyberpunk games and insisted that this would be a piece of cake. If this part didn’t work, the backup was getting one of them—Lance—through Iverson’s window from the outside. Hopefully, they’d pick the right window because Hunk was certain plan ‘Hack ‘em good’ was not going to fly.

Lance had told him to meet at the end of the hallway after class for the ‘IU’.

“The what?”

“Iverson Update, duh. We gotta keep things on the DL, y’know?”

“The what now?”

As Hunk dawdled by the drinking fountain, a gust of Tash accosted him. “Hey, Souffle!”

Hunk threw his hands in front of him, shrinking back behind the fountain. “ItwasLance’sideapleasedon’tkillme!”

“What?”

Hunk’s shoulders relaxed and he realised how stupid he must look. “Oh, it’s you, Tash.”

Tash folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Hunk quickly scanned his surroundings. “Uh… no? Because that would be weird and I’m totally not weird, right?”

She smiled, absolutely not buying it. “Riiiight.”

Hunk took two steps out from behind the drinking fountain. “Well, I was actually waiting for—”

“Hunk!” Lance called from across the foyer, running towards him. “Oh my god, you won’t believe—” Lance paused as he noted Tash. “Oh, hi again. I’m not interrupting anything, am I? If I am, I can just—” He threw a thumb over his shoulder.

“No!” Hunk started. “No, no, it’s fine. We just bumped into each other, that’s all.”

“Okay, cool…” Lance trailed off. His hands had retracted back into his pockets.

The three of them stood by the fountain, eyes flitting between each other in a futile attempt at psychic communication.

Finally, Tash spoke up. “Oh! I just remembered I have a study group to get to. I’ll… yeah. Come get ice cream sometime? See you!” And with that, she ran off.

“That was weird,” Lance commented.

Hunk sighed. “You were weird, Lance.”

Lance recoiled and Hunk opened his mouth to apologise. That was a little harsh. But Lance grinned at him like nothing happened and leapt into his story. “Soooo, Phase 1 was a success! Man, I wish you could’ve seen it…”

Everything had seemed relatively normal at the beginning of the lesson, though it became abundantly clear when Keith arrived late to class.

“Normally, Iverson would be having a fit, yelling, swearing, you name it,” Lance explained, waving his hands for emphasis. “But when Keith came in, all he did was nod at him. Keith looked like he’d seen a ghost!”

Hunk cracked a smile. “Yeah, that would’ve been quite the sight.” He quietly noted that Lance was now referring to Keith by his first name.

The rest of the lesson had gone smoothly—a little too smoothly. Iverson had even begun sharing personal stories which Hunk knew all the students would be talking about for weeks. It was near impossible to get anything out of that man. But now, they knew all sorts of useless information:

• Iverson used to live in LA. Mother-freaking-LA.
• He still has his surfboards—Hunk would definitely keep an eye out when… if they go into his dorm.
• He owned three cats. Of course he did. Their names were Comet, Apollo and Mittens.

As Lance was talking, Hunk’s palms began to sweat. Iverson seemed like… a normal guy. Did they really want to go through with this plan? The first phase had been relatively harmless, maybe even beneficial but…

“Anyway,” Lance said, “did you bring the goods?”

Hunk nodded, taking a few moments to re-orient himself. “Yeah, ready when you are.”

“Excellent.” Lance grinned impishly. “Phase 2 is a go.”

As Hunk suspected, they had to use the window.

“It’s no big deal!” Lance assured him, wobbling on Hunk’s shoulders as he attempted to shimmy up the wall. Hunk’s eyes darted about warily.

“If we get caught—”

“It’s fine,” Lance insisted. “Nobody goes around back here anyway.”

“Maybe because there’s a fence with a sign that says: ‘DO NOT ENTER’?”

“Pssh.” Hunk had to take a step forward to steady the idiot on his shoulders. “Nobody reads those anyway.”

Then, as if Lance had called upon the gods to taunt them, a voice spoke right behind them. “What are you doing?”

If the word ‘unimpressed’ had a voice, Hunk thought, this is exactly what it sounded like. As he tumbled backwards, Lance flying off his shoulders and into the bushes, Hunk was met with the unimpressed gaze of Keith Kogane looming above him.

“It was Lance,” he said quickly.

Before Keith could find a cutting response to that, a deeper, much more unimpressed voice said: “Boys. Office. Now.”

Chapter Text

They were in trouble. Big trouble. Like, one-more-wrong-move-and-you’re-out-of-the-Garrison kind of trouble. If it weren’t for Keith Kogane’s quick thinking, they all would’ve been toast. Hunk would’ve had to return home, disgraced. He’d probably end up working in fast food for life. Just the thought of those greasy patties made him shudder. As he scraped a plate of leftover mashed potato and gravy, he realised his current situation wasn’t that far off.

It was five minutes until the lunch rush was over and Lance was carrying a stack of plates so tall it almost touched the low ceiling of the kitchen. Keith, who was at the sink beside him, rubber gloves up to his elbows, was eyeing the tower warily.

“Can someone tell me when I’m close to the bench?” a voice asked from behind the dangerously skewed tower.

Before Hunk could so much as breathe, Keith was rushing past him, hands braced against the side of the tower. “Don’t move so fast!” he scolded. “You almost gave us another year in here.”

“Like you can talk,” Lance retorted, “almost running people over on your stupid bike.”

“Yeah, almost. I’ve never hit anyone.”

“Well, I didn’t drop the dishes, did I?” Hunk could hear the smirk, even without turning around.

“Only because I stopped it, idiot.”

“Who are you calling an idiot? I saw you barely scrape by on the last calc test.”

The air around them suddenly dropped about ten degrees.

Hunk stopped scrubbing the pan he was holding, glancing over his shoulder.

Keith mutely grabbed the top half of the stack and moved it to the bench top. Flicking the tap on, he immediately started washing. Lance just stood there, speechless.

As they were heading back to their dorm, Hunk noticed that Lance was walking a little slower. “You feeling alright?” he asked, matching his friend’s pace.

Lance raised his arms and stretched, adding in a fake yawn for good measure. “Yeah, just tired. I’ve scrubbed so many dishes I can hardly feel my arms.”

Hunk nodded. His own arms were aching, and the scent of stale water lingered on their clothes.

“Let me have first shower and I’ll do the laundry?” he offered.

Lance pondered for a moment. Usually, he’d rather kill someone than have to wait to shower. Hunk knew his skin must be feeling disgusting and Lance was probably worried about the millions of dirt particles now clogging his pores. But Lance’s shoulders were drooping. His feet were practically dragging him forward. He simply didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Deal,” he said, smiling weakly as he shook Hunk’s hand.

Hunk was barely five minutes in the shower and Lance was looking a little better when he came out.

“Clothes are already in the hamper,” Lance said, jerking a thumb behind him. “Thanks for doing this, man.”

“Of course,” Hunk shrugged. “What are friends for?”

Lance smiled. “See you in a bit?”

Hunk nodded, grabbing his swipe card and hauling the hamper over his shoulder.

When Hunk reached the laundry room, he was glad to see it was mostly empty. There was just one other guy, holding a bottle of detergent with both hands and staring blankly at the machine in front of him.

Hunk opened the sliding door and walked over to a machine slightly further away, not wanting to disturb the other guy. He placed down the hamper and finally got a good look at the guy. Black hair falling over his face, wearing a plain black t-shirt and cargo trousers…

“Keith?”

Keith’s head jerked up, eyes wide as he realised he wasn’t alone. His knuckles were white as he gripped the bottle.

“You mind if I use the detergent when you’re done?” Hunk asked, softening his voice the way one would when approaching a scared cat.

Keith nodded, the rest of his body completely frozen.

Hunk waited for a few seconds, then asked another, more pressing question: “Have you used a washing machine before?”

Keith’s face turned slightly red as he looked down at the bottle in his hands.

Hunk could hardly believe this was the same guy who rode a motorcycle and scared half his classmates at the Garrison. He seemed a lot smaller here, standing awkwardly in front of a washing machine, clutching a red bottle of detergent.

“Here,” Hunk offered, holding out his hand for the bottle. “I’ll show you how to do it.”

As the washing machines rumbled, Hunk and Keith sat on the beanbags opposite. After a while, Keith spoke. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Then, Keith continued. “So, you’re friends with Lance?”

Hunk sat up, surprised. “Uh, yeah. We met on the first day. Caught the bus together.”

Keith stared at him, arms folded over his knees.

“Could you tell him…” Keith sighed, turning his face away. “Never mind.”

“We’ve got about twenty minutes until the washing finishes,” Hunk pointed out.

“You’re almost as stubborn as he is.”

Hunk laughed. “I try, though it’s difficult to compete with the unstoppable force that is Lance McClain.”

The ghost of a smile passed over Keith’s features. They looked softer. Younger. Sometimes, it really hit him just how young they all were at the Garrison… teenagers trying to play grown-ups as fighter pilots and mechanics and soldiers. This place was a military base first, research facility second.

“You know Shiro, yeah?”

“Mhm?” Hunk didn’t want to push too hard. Don’t scare the cat away.

Keith bit the inside of his cheek. “He… Well, he’s basically my only friend here.”

Hunk waited for him to continue.

“He’s always been very protective of me, vouching for me when by all known reason, I should’ve been kicked out of here months ago.” Keith chuckled softly. “He’s always been there for me, but now… I dunno if I should really be telling you this.”

“You’re not obligated to tell me anything,” Hunk said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m happy to listen because it does sound like you’re a little stressed, but don’t feel pressured to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Keith tugged lightly on his hair. “Shiro wants to go on this mission,” he explained, “which is normal and fine and he’s the most capable person I know…”

“But…”

“Promise me you won’t say this to anyone.” Keith looked him dead in the eyes.

Hunk met them with complete sincerity. “I promise.”

Keith’s shoulders relaxed. “He has this condition… Muscular dystrophy. It’s not affecting him too badly at the moment, but if he overworks himself, it could speed up the progression.”

“That’s terrible…”

“I just keep thinking that if anything were to happen…”

“It wouldn’t be your fault,” Hunk said gently. “Have you talked to him about this?”

“Yeah.” Keith put his head in his hands. “I have, Adam… His, uh, his boyfriend has as well. But he’s just so stubborn.” His fingers clenched. “He says he should do it now before he’s unable to.”

“Sounds like you’re dealing with a lot.”

“Yeah…”

If Hunk was being honest, he had no clue how to comfort Keith. This stuff was completely out of his depth. So, like the genius 16-year-old he was, he decided to change the topic: “You said you had something to tell Lance?”

“Tell him to actually ask for help instead of trying to carry everything on his own.”

Hunk had the strangest sense that Keith wasn’t just talking about plates.

“Yeah, for sure. Will do.”

Chapter Text

Lance and Hunk barely had time to change between dish-duty and practice. “Shiro is gonna kill us if we’re late,” Lance whined, half-jogging to their dorm.

Fortunately, Hunk had the foresight to leave his gear on his bed, ducking into the bathroom to change. When he re-emerged, Lance was hunched over his dresser like a spider, jersey on backwards and one foot un-socked. Hunk grabbed his sneakers as an assortment of coloured fabric flew over his friend’s shoulder in short bursts. “Of all days,” Lance grumbled.

“Don’t you have any other socks?” As the words slipped out, he immediately regretted it.

“These are my volleyball socks!” Like that explained everything. Although, Hunk had to admit, when it came to Lance, it did.

“I don’t want to rush you or anything, but…” Hunk glanced over at the digital clock sat atop the dresser.

“I know, I know.” Lance was tugging at his hair now, limbs even more frantic.

Hunk glanced down at the clothes strewn at his feet. A bit of white peeked out from under Lance’s SpongeBob boxers. He crouched down to retrieve it. “Hey Lance,” he called, almost losing balance as a hawkish head snapped towards him. “Is this it?”

Lance pounced. “Yes!”

Before Hunk had time to blink, the sock was gone from his hand and Lance was dragging him out the door.

Hunk had never run so much in his life. Nor did he intend to ever again.

Lance was hardly able to stop himself from barrelling straight into Keith, who was also running late.

“Watch out!”

Keith, insane as his reflexes were, was only able to move just enough out of the way that his ribcage wasn’t removed. He bore the brunt of Lance’s collision on his left shoulder. “What the hell, man?”

The impact was enough to make Lance hurtle forwards, flat on his face.

Hunk, still a couple feet behind, stopped and stared at them.

“Hey!” a stern voice called from the centre of the gymnasium. A tall man who looked to be around his mid-20s stood with his arms folded across his chest. The rest of the cadets looked like they had been halfway through organising teams, now frozen as they waited for their senior officer to speak. The silence was only broken by a scared first-year dropping the ball from his hands, letting it bounce then roll away.

“What do you clowns think you’re doing?”

Hunk decided to speak up before Lance or Keith dug their graves any deeper. He decided adding a salute in might soften their punishment, if only a little. “We’re so sorry, sir,” he began. “We were running late and should’ve been more careful. So sorry for the interruption, sir. We’ll be more organised in future, sir.”

The officer said nothing, only moving to push his glasses up his nose before folding his arms once more. Hunk never thought a man in a tank top and neon yellow shorts could look intimidating until that moment.

Lance groaned weakly as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Keith stared mutely at the officer, his cheeks tinged red. It was hard to tell if he was mad or embarrassed. The two probably went hand-in-hand from what Hunk knew about him.

“Keith,” the man said.

Keith flinched.

The officer picked up the ball that had rolled just in front of his feet. “Let’s have a chat.” Then, he nodded at Hunk and Lance. “You two, give me five laps, then join Court 3.”

Hunk gave Lance a hand up, leaning close to whisper, “I’m gonna kill you if my legs don’t kill me first.”

Lance grimaced. “Yeah, I deserve that.”

Keith was quiet when he joined them on Court 3, walking to the opposite side of the net. His face wasn’t wearing its usual scowl… It was something else Hunk couldn’t quite place. He glanced over at the Officer, who was running the cadets on Court 1 through drills.

“I should be there,” Lance grumbled, lazily digging a ball over the net.

“Well, we’d better try to be on time next week.”

“I know.”

Hunk would’ve laughed at Lance’s pout if he weren’t so tired himself. Man, the dish duty was really starting to get to him.

The next day, Hunk was first in line for lunch, practically inhaling his meal before Lance could join him. “Gummago- Gibchen.” Hunk said, still chewing as he rose from the table.

This was the last day Hunk was going to eat their sloppy potatoes and stay silent.

He swung the door open, then reflexively caught it before it slammed into the wall, confidence melting from his bones. The zombie-faced cooks didn’t even acknowledge his entrance, hovering glazed-eyed over fryers and idly stirring large pots of “soup”.

He spotted the head chef in the back, leaning back in a folding chair and sipping a coffee.

Hunk marched towards him, clearing his throat and trying to shake the tightness in his shoulders. “Er… Mr Head Chef, sir?”

He looked up. “Mm?”

Hunk wouldn’t be surprised if this man didn’t even remember the face of the dish boy that he’s been seeing daily for the last four weeks.

“I want to cook.”

“What?”

Hunk inhaled slowly and repeated himself, a little louder: “I want to cook, sir.”

The head chef rolled his eyes. “This isn’t some hobby, dish boy. Kitchen’s already full.”

A couple of months ago, Hunk would’ve resigned himself to that final answer and left. But a couple months ago, Hunk wasn’t getting diarrhoea from abhorrent cafeteria food.

“This isn’t just a hobby, sir. I need to be in this kitchen.” He grit his teeth. “This food needs real seasoning for starters, not just a cup of salt. Not everything needs to be fried to death- If I wanted to die by 30, I’d go to McDonald’s every day. I’m not saying this out of arrogance or anything. I want to help.”

The chef said nothing, eyes penetrating Hunk’s skin like a thousand needles. Hunk winced, preparing to be thrown in the fryer.

Instead, he heard laughter.

It started as a low, rumbling chuckle. Then, the chef threw his head back, mouth wide open as he laughed and laughed. A couple of the cooks turned around, momentarily reverting to a lucid state as they stared at the head chef in shock.

“You’ve got spirit, boy,” he laughed. “Oh, I’ll give you that. McDonald’s, ha!”

Hunk bit his lip, waiting.

“Tell you what,” said the head chef. “I’ll give ya a week. If your spirit hasn’t broken by then, you can stay.”

Hunk fell to his knees, hands clasped together. “Thank you, sir, I won’t let you down, sir, I promise you won’t regret this—”

“Pipe down and throw on an apron, kid.”

“Yes, sir, of course, sir.”

On top of mandatory dish duty, Hunk was now almost constantly in the kitchen. Lance thought he’d finally lost it. Apparently, he’d started talking in his sleep, muttering ingredients and portion sizes and a bunch of words Lance had never heard in his life.

And while Hunk was busier than ever, no one could deny that he seemed happier. The first day, Hunk had mostly followed directions from the head chef, making small adjustments to the temperature of stovetops and the length of time dishes were boiled for.

By the third day, he was sneaking his own spices into the cupboards. He’d taken over the vegetarian options and several cadets had commented on how amazing it was to not have soggy beans and dried out burger patties. Hunk had practically sparkled at those words.

Even the head chef had taken a moment to praise him. “I’ve never heard so many ‘thank you’s from those ungrateful bastards.”

That’s just what happens when you have good food, Hunk had thought, adding a dusting of powdered sugar over two fresh batches of gluten-free brownies. They were easy to make in bulk and a sweet treat everyone desperately needed in this trying exam season.

“Oh my god,” Lance moaned, licking his fingers with relish. “Hunk, you are the greatest thing to happen to the Garrison—maybe even the world.”

Hunk laughed, tossing his friend an apron and gloves. “Thanks, buddy. Unfortunately, good food equals many dishes.”

He expected Lance to groan and roll his eyes or at least make one or two complaints… but they never came. If anything, Lance looked like he was about to burst into song, bouncing on the balls of his feet and humming as he stretched rubber gloves up to his elbows.

Keith entered the side door not long after and they settled into their usual routine.

Hunk realised now that he actually enjoyed this part of his day, possibly even looking forward to it. When had that happened?

He liked the way Lance whistled and hummed as he dried plates. He liked the clink of dishes stacking neatly into groups of twenty. He liked Keith’s half-smile when he thought no one was looking. He liked when Lance would give them each a crown of suds, even though he complained that it would absorb the grease in the air and make their hair gross. He liked when Lance would waggle his eyebrows and say, “Wanna join me in the showers later?”

Keith had also started running into him more often in the laundry room. It had become a sort of weekly ritual, where they’d wash their dirty laundry and air their “dirty laundry”.

It seemed that Shiro had been overworking himself and had a fall, which meant he’d had to step down from some his duties. Adam—his boyfriend—had helped fill in some of the gaps (such as volleyball) but they’d been arguing more than usual lately. The bags under Keith’s eyes seemed more pronounced these days, but when they met in the laundry, the tension seemed to loosen ever-so-slightly.

Hunk liked to listen. It was clear Keith needed it. And Hunk was pretty good at being a distraction, too. He’d talk about new recipes he wanted to try and Keith would supply his thoughts, prefaced with an “I’m not an expert, but…”. Hunk learnt that Keith preferred dark chocolate over regular, that he’d once almost choked to death on a grape, and that he and Shiro used to get karaage together every Friday.

If Hunk just so happened to change the lunch menu to karaage and steamed rice the following Friday, Keith was none the wiser.

Chapter Text

As winter break approached and cadets completed the last of their midterms, the number of library patrons gradually dwindled. Hunk had found it was a desirable hideout when Lance was slamming his head into the desk every five minutes. Ironically, Lance never used the library despite being one of the biggest nerds Hunk knew.

Just a few days ago, Hunk wouldn’t have dared spend more than a few minutes in the open-air building. Wood seemed to take on a new kind of property when exposed to stressed students for extended periods of time. He could feel the shelves creaking with the strain of differentials and practically humming with caffeine. With Hunk’s final exam out of the way, along with about two-thirds of the student population, the library had settled into a state of limbo. It was calm but also very clearly waiting for something.

Many of his classmates went home the second they put their pens down on Tuesday, but Hunk and the other bus commuters had to wait until the very last day to leave—wouldn’t want to spend an extra cent on students whose parents couldn’t drive all the way into the barren desert of Arizona.

So Hunk had been in the library, observing the rare comings and goings of his peers returning books, sneaking behind shelves to make out, or simply in search of a place to nap. Hunk had brought his laptop and a box of spare parts to his own corner of the library, fiddling with the tiny wires hooked up to his Arduino. There wasn’t much in the way of shops out here, so he figured Lance would appreciate something small and handmade. Hunk had already given small bags of gingerbread to his other friends before they left for winter break, but he wanted Lance’s gift to be special. After all, he was his first and closest friend at the Garrison—hell, maybe closest friend ever.

Hunk waved his hand in front of the sensor. A small whirring noise sounded from the motor as a metallic limb rose and bent at the joint, waving right back. He’d need to program another two hinge movements to make it more natural.

Completely absorbed in his work, Hunk didn’t notice the shadow hovering over the table. He didn’t acknowledge the shifting of fabric on wood across from him. He paid no heed to the flipping of pages or even the thunk of boots atop the table.

When Hunk’s eyes finally rose to search his box for an LDR and transistors, he almost fell out of his seat. “Keith?” His eyebrows shot up. “When did you get here?”

Keith glanced over at a nearby wall clock. “About twenty minutes ago.”

“Twenty—” Hunk sputtered. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Keith shrugged. “You seemed busy.”

Hunk sighed, pressing his fingers between his eyebrows. “We’ve gotta work on your social skills.”

Keith stared blankly.

This dude had no idea how weird he was, did he? “You’re so lucky I’m not Lance.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Why… would you be?”

Hunk shook his head as he began to place parts back into their compartments. “I somehow thought you’d left for break already.”

“Nah. Have to stay till Shiro’s done.”

“Oh, do you guys…” Hunk trailed off. ‘Do you guys live together?’ Really? One, that’s a super invasive question. Two, that’s a crazy assumption to make. They’re not actually brothers. Maybe they just spend winter break together since home’s too far away. “Uh… What are your plans for Christmas? Well, if you celebrate it because I know not everybody does. It’s also cool if you do, obviously. Otherwise, y’know, just what are you getting up to over break?”

Keith swung his feet off the table, boots thudding on the floor. “Dunno. Stuff.” He glanced around briefly. “Is Lance done with exams yet?”

Avoiding the question, but Hunk wasn’t going to press it. Keith was a private guy, he got it. “He’s sitting his last one tomorrow. Been driving me nuts being in the same dorm. When he’s stressed, I get stressed and I’ve already done my exams! I swear, it’s contagious.”

If Hunk hadn’t blinked, he could’ve sworn he saw a smile flicker across Keith’s lips. He rose from his seat abruptly, picking up the book he’d been reading—or… pretending to read. “Tell him good luck,” he said. “Bye.”

Well, now Hunk had another gift to sort out. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t checked to see if Keith was still around. Then, he remembered that he wouldn’t know where to look. He didn’t know any of Keith’s other friends—or whether he had any—and he’d never been to the dude’s dorm. Their dish-duty detention had been suspended during exams, so the only times Hunk would see Keith was in the laundry room.

“Ugggghhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Lance groaned into his pillow.

Hunk swivelled patiently on their single desk chair, watching Lance with amusement.

“It’s done, it’s done, it’s done, it’s finally done.”

“It’s done,” Hunk agreed. “You packed yet?”

Lance lifted his head, his hair sticking out in every direction. He blinked a couple times. Hunk could hear the motors whirring inside his head before finally clicking into place.

“It’s nearly Christmas.”

“Yeah.”

“I need to get gifts.”

Hunk clicked his phone on to check the date. “Well, we’ve got two days until we leave, then there’s another six days until Christmas.”

“Okay,” Lance said, somehow already standing beside Hunk. He began to pace, counting on his fingers. “So, I’ll start with Veronica; she’s the easiest. Then, Luis and Lisa… the kids… maybe a puzzle… Marco said something about needing paints for his models… and then Mom…”

Hunk placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder, stopping him in place. “Your family’s gonna be excited just to have you back, man. Let’s focus on getting through these next two days, yeah?”

Lance nodded, still buzzing with nervous energy. “Yeah… Yeah, okay.”

“Want a gingerbread rocket?”

“Dude, is that even a question?”

Hunk hadn’t been able to find Keith before they left. The next best thing had been Shiro, who he caught in the hallway just twenty minutes before the bus would depart.

“Could you give this to Keith?” he asked, pushing a small box and card into the older man’s hands. “Okaythankyoubye.”

And then he was gone. His parents would never forgive him if he missed the bus.

Lance was right outside their dorm waiting for him, both their bags in tow. “You find him?” he asked, acting like they didn’t need to be out of the building five minutes ago.

Hunk grabbed his bags, out of breath but bracing himself for a sprint that would likely give him a heart attack. “No… didn’t… Sh- Shi—ro…”

When they finally parted ways in Phoenix—Lance for Varadero and Hunk for Waipahu—an emptiness settled in the pit of Hunk’s stomach. He was excited to be seeing his family again, so what was this strange feeling of loss? Hunk tried to ignore it, pulling out a notebook to plan out gifts and recipes.

Man, the way Lance’s face had lit up when he opened his gift on the bus… It wasn’t perfect by any means, but he was proud of his handiwork. A little blue spaceman that could wave back when you waved at it. Just the right size for a bedside table, where Lance had immediately told him it would be going when he got home.

“What should I name him?”

“Lance, I suck at names…”

“Aw, c’mon. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

“I dunno… Blue?”

“Perfect.”

Hunk chuckled to himself, watching the landscape turn from brown to green. “Blue… Genius name, Hunk.”

His phone buzzed.

            Lance: omg I finally got service

                        hey buddy how’s ur trip going?

            Hunk: Good. It’s nice to see trees again

            Lance: lmaoooo I know right?

                        [1 image attached]

Hunk opened the image and smiled. Lance was throwing up a peace sign and grinning in front of a window. A blur of green and a clear blue sky lay behind him. Hunk quickly snapped his own picture, giving a thumbs up.

The rest of what would’ve been a painful trip sailed by as Hunk and Lance sent photos to each other, giving them dumb captions and talking about Christmas plans. Well, that and sleeping.

Hunk was home.

His legs were jelly as he stepped off the plane. The two hour flight had been fine but he was still recovering from the train.

“Hunk! My little genius,” Hunk’s mom squeezed him tight. “We missed you so much.”

Hunk squeezed back, inhaling the familiar scent of coconut milk shampoo as his head dropped to her shoulder. “I missed you too, Mom.”

A large hand gripped Hunk’s shoulder, followed by a deep, resonant voice. “Welcome home.” It was warm and genuine and Hunk hadn’t realised until right then how much he’d missed his father. His dad leant in conspiratorially and murmured: “You haven’t forgotten to cook, have you?”

Hunk laughed, releasing his mom for just a moment to pull both parents into a massive hug. “We are going to have a feast this Christmas.”

Hunk was home.

The sun shone bright overhead, no longer an oppressive flaming ball of gas but a friend offering a warm hug. A cool winter breeze balanced out the midday heat, the koa trees rustling in greeting.

Hunk's niece and nephew flung the front door open, running barefooted down the gravel driveway and barrelling into his open arms. Talking at a million miles an hour, they told him of their first year of "big school" and all the friends they had made and how he needed to make gingerbread "pronto" so they could build the biggest and best gingerbread house in the world.

He was exhausted but the smile splitting his face came all-too-easily.

Hunk was home.

Chapter Text

Hunk had survived Christmas with his extended family and surprisingly, so had the dishes. His grandmother said she’d never been prouder when he brought out the paifala—two trays of golden half-moon pineapple pies. He was barraged with questions about the Garrison: Had he worked on real jet engines yet? How were his teachers? Did he have lots of friends? It was nice, albeit exhausting.

While he loved being home again, there was a small part of Hunk itching to get back to the Garrison. It was like some kind of reverse homesickness. He’d be teaching his niece to paddleboard and then start thinking about how much Lance would love this. Or he’d see a baby cactus in a store and honest-to-God start getting emotional about the boring desert he lived in for the last three months.

            Lance: hey ur coming to the new years party right?

            Hunk: New Year’s party?

            Lance: dude I thought sasha told u

            Hunk: When is it?

            Lance: bro..

After many tearful goodbyes—most of them from Hunk—winter break came to an end. No more beach or greenery—it was back to dry old Arizona for him. Armed with cooler bags and tupperware containers full of leftover food, Hunk made the trek back to the Garrison.

This time, he and Lance wouldn’t be catching the same bus—Lance had already gone back to school two days ago. Hunk was prepared for a quiet journey but as he boarded the bus, he spotted a familiar face.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked.

The boy he was speaking to was one of the older cadets and the son of Hunk’s favourite teacher—Matthew Holt. They’d shared maybe ten words total in passing but that was enough for Hunk. Matt looked up from his Gameboy and smiled. “Yeah, sure.” He squinted for a moment, clicking his fingers. “Hank, right?”

Hunk laughed nervously, settling into the seat. “Hunk, actually.”

Matt raised an eyebrow over his thin-framed glasses. “Is that what the ladies call you?”

Hunk blanched. “No, that’s just what my parents—”

“Dude, I’m messing with you.” Matt laughed. He nodded to the console in his hands. A pixelated kid wearing a cap was standing in the middle of the screen. “You ever played Pokémon?”

Hunk grinned. “Oh, have I ever played Pokémon?” His own console was lying in the second drawer of his dresser back at the Garrison dorms.

It was easy talking to Matt. The older cadet also loved science and tech, specialising in communications. He’d made a long-distance encrypted radio to talk to his little sister while he was at the Garrison. They’d even made up their own code so that no one else could decipher their messages.

“I graduate at the end of this semester,” Matt said while battling a Drowzee. “If I do well, I might get slated for the next space research mission. My dad refuses to tell me anything because it’s top secret until it’s officially announced—Oh, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this either, whoops.”

“It’s okay,” Hunk said quickly. “I won’t tell a soul, promise.”

“Want a turn after this battle?”

Barely half a step off the bus, Hunk was tackled by Lance. It took all his willpower not to drop the container of dim sims he was carrying. “Yooooooo welcome back, my man!”

Hunk pat Lance’s back, feeling his arms slowly go numb. “Good to see you too.” Hunk exhaled as Lance released him, readjusting his grip on the bags and container. “How was Christmas?”

“Insane.” Lance’s grin said everything. “You?”

“Ditto.” He held up the tupperware. “Let’s head inside and we can talk over food.”

Lance slung his arm over Hunk’s shoulder. “I like how you think, buddy.”

They easily settled back into their usual dynamic, continuing right where they left off. With Lance, Hunk always felt at ease. Never judged. Never sidelined. Never a “second choice”. Lance genuinely liked being around Hunk just as Hunk did around Lance.

“Did you hear Shiro’s gone for the rest of the semester?” Lance asked, his mouth full of steamed vegetables.

“No, what happened? I know he had to take some time off with volleyball.”

“I’m not sure. But I think it’s more serious than people are letting on.”

“I hope Keith’s okay.”

Lance hummed in agreement.

“Have you seen him around?”

Lance shook his head. “Kogane’s like a phantom. I’ve been planning my outfit for the New Year’s party anyway.” His eyes sparkled when he looked up at Hunk. “Please let me help with yours too.”

“Okay…”

Lance didn’t even wait for him to respond, knowing Hunk was too kind to deny his friend this opportunity. “So, I’ve been talking with Sasha since she’s part of the Social Club Committee and the theme is Moonlight Masquerade.”

Hunk took a long sip of his juice and when Lance didn’t elaborate, he budged. “And what does that entail?”

“Well, you know what a masquerade ball is, right?” Lance saw no recognition in Hunk’s eyes. “It’s like an old-fashioned European thing—French, I think—where people dance and cover their eyes with fancy masks so nobody knows who they are, which gives them more freedom to be themselves… At least, I think it would anyway.”

“So, it’s kinda like Halloween? Dressing up as someone else?”

“Uh… I guess?” Lance half-smiled. “It’s gonna be so good, dude.”

“I still haven’t spoken to Sasha yet. I was gonna ask if she needed help with food.”

A shadow appeared over Lance’s shoulder, soon followed by a young woman wearing a cropped white hoodie. “Mind if I join you guys?” Tash asked. “How were your breaks?”

Lance shuffled over to make room for Tash while Hunk spoke about going home to see his family.

“The weather must’ve been amazing,” she said.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I miss the ocean already.”

“Do you surf?”

“Nah, just like chilling in the water.”

Lance sat upright, remembering something. “We still haven’t been to the pool here!”

“That’s because it’s winter, dumbass.”

“It’s indoors double-dumbass.”

“Let’s save it for next year, yeah?”

“Ha!” Tash laughed. “Already starting the New Year’s jokes.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of, I’d better get back to prepping snacks. Sasha put me in charge of food.”

“Oh, I was planning on asking about that. I’m sure you could do with some extra hands?”

Tash’s smile widened. “That’d be a godsend. Thanks, Hunk.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for a moment. “Right now, it’s doing my head in calculating ingredient proportions for like a hundred students.”

“Don’t even worry,” Hunk said, already standing to toss his juice carton in recycling. “Math is my middle name.”

By 8pm, Hunk and Tash had organised the shopping list which they’d send to Sasha. “She should get the groceries sorted by Tuesday morning, then we’ll have two days to prepare. We can do desserts first and store them in the industrial fridges—”

Hunk felt a yawn rising in his throat. “Mhm, sounds good.”

Tash stopped. “You know what? We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Tash.” Hunk smiled, sheepish. “I can stay another 20 minutes—”

“No,” she said firmly. “You literally just got back today. Get some rest.”

“Alright,” he said, yawning again. “G’night.”

She waved him off and Hunk slumped back to his dorm.

When he arrived, Lance was halfway through his nightly skincare routine, a strange blue goo covering his face. For a split-second he looked like a ghoul. “Gah!”

“Wuh?” Lance jumped back, equally frightened. “What is it?”

Hunk’s heart was hammering in his chest. “Sorry, you just— It’s fine.”

“I just what?” Lance frowned.

“Don’t worry about it.” Hunk yawned again. “’m just tired… Seeing things.”

Lance rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror. “I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

“Sounds good.” Hunk was already flopping on his bunk with no intent of changing clothes.

He never heard Lance come back into the room or climb up the ladder to his bunk. The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning.

Hunk had known Lance for half a year now and this was the first he’d ever heard of the other boy’s hidden talents as a… sewer? seamster? clothes-maker? Hunk stood in the middle of their dorm with his arms out as Lance took his measurements, jotting them down on a pocket-sized notepad. “If you feel uncomfortable, you can measure your bust and waist yourself,” Lance offered but Hunk shrugged and said it was fine. In this moment, he was fascinated by how careful and quiet his normally neurotic roommate was being.

His stomach gurgled and Lance looked up from where he was holding the tape up to the side of Hunk’s leg.

“Hungry?”

“A little,” Hunk admitted.

“Well, I’m almost done. You are going to look so good on Thursday. I’m thinking flared pants and maybe some sequins… I’ve got some ideas for thrifted items I haven’t found a use for yet—” While Hunk put his shoes on, Lance continued to ramble for a bit about making alterations to clothing and what material to use for the masks and how he’d probably talk to some of the girls about what they were making theirs with.

“After lunch, I’ll have to get back to the kitchen. Tash and I are getting started on dips and desserts.”

Lance licked his lips, a dreamy expression crossing his face. “If you need a taste-taster…” he offered.

“As head chef, that role falls to me,” Hunk said in a mock-serious tone. Then, lightly, he added, “But I’ll see if there are any dud doughnuts I can bring back for you.”

Lance put his hands together and bowed his head. “Thank you, o’ merciful king.”

“Idiot.” Hunk smiled, grabbing Lance by the shoulder and knuckling his head.

“Hey!”

Chapter Text

Working long hours in the kitchen had Hunk sweating up a storm. He’d shower in the morning and come 6pm, he’d return to his dorm with hair that was 90% grease. Cooking for the cafeteria lunch rush was one thing but that was easy stuff like large trays of lasagna or nachos. Here, he was creating perfect replicas of the same tiny finger foods about a hundred times over. Hunk’s fingers had turned to overcooked fettucine after rolling his two hundredth cheese ball.

But pulling those trays out of the industrial ovens made everything worth it. Rows and rows of crispy golden delights made Hunk’s mouth water, his nasal passage overwhelmed by the heavenly scent of success. And when he tasted just one of those savoury orbs, the crunch and chewiness blending in harmony, his resolve to do it all again tomorrow was reborn.

Hunk’s muscles ached pleasantly as he floated back to the dorm that evening. His mind hummed at the promise of a warm shower and a long rest in the welcoming arms of his bed.

Alas, such dreams were not meant to be.

As the door slid open, a manic face slowly turned towards him. Various items of clothing were strewn over the back of the study desk chair and both of their bunks, a silk scarf flung over the shoulder of the bane of Hunk’s quiet evening.

“Perfect. You’re here.”

Hunk had to admit, Lance knew what he was doing. The final outfit… wasn’t terrible. Though there was a lot of yellow. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. It’s your colour.”

The flared jeans were comfy, yellow and orange sequined stars stitched into the lower parts of each leg. He wore a simple green t-shirt beneath what Lance had dubbed the statement piece of the outfit—a denim jacket that matched the pants, more stars embroidered on the pockets and tassels hanging from the back and sleeves. “I look like a disco cowboy.”

“Uh, I think you mean an awesome disco cowboy.”

The mask Lance gave him was a black bandana, like Zorro (once again, cowboy) from the movies both boys adored. It felt a little silly but also thrilling—there wasn’t a chance anyone would recognise him in this getup.

Lance’s own outfit was even more outlandish—which was quite a feat to achieve in blue against his hi-vis compadre. Despite the cold, Lance wore a form-fitting deep blue halter-neck top with sequins that shimmered under every light. Sheer blue sleeves were layered over the top, swishing hypnotically each time he moved. He also wore flared jeans, stitched with patterns of ocean waves along the hemlines. His mask, however, was white and decorated with feathers, resembling a swan.

“You ready to party, amigo?”

Hunk chuckled nervously. “I guess I’ll have to be.”

The bass thrummed through his body on a molecular level, sending Hunk’s blood cells into their own frenzied dance. Rotating LED lights in each corner of the gymnasium crossed beams in sync with the music, dozens of hands raised in the air as the DJ—a third year—hyped up the crowd.

Like Lance, many of the cadets had gone all out with their outfits, particularly the masks. Hunk had seen a couple of Batmans and Spider-Mans, classic sequined masquerade masks, an astronaut and even a pink panda fursuit head. For the first twenty minutes, Hunk joined in the fun on the dancefloor, hanging out with Lance, Tash and Jin. It wasn’t long before Lance spotted someone with long hair and introduced himself. “The name’s Lance—”

Hunk took this as his cue to slip back to the food table. His social battery was nearing the end of its life cycle and it would be several hours before he’d get to go back to their dorm. Lance had insisted that Hunk leave his key card in the room.

“Nuh uh, you are not sneaking out of the party early. I’m doing this because I love you.”

Hunk munched on a samosa, marvelling at the crunch between his teeth. The garam masala had notes of ginger and cloves that balanced out the turmeric and coriander, melting on his tongue. He took mental note to reduce the onion next time to bring out the other flavours.

He took a moment to appreciate the scene around him; while he couldn’t see the eyes of others—and, in some cases, faces—he could see flashes of smiling teeth and could hear peals of laughter. A couple of cadets came over to survey the food table, murmuring to each other about the range of choices, tasting the assorted finger foods available. Hunk couldn’t help watching, gauging their reactions.

Some smiled, some hummed in pleasure, some made no indication of enjoyment other than the rapid retrieval of a second and third helping. Hunk’s heart warmed as he took another bite of his own creations.

It was then that a voice echoed over the speakers, interrupting the music. “Good evening esteemed guests and happy almost-New Year!”

A cheer rose from the crowd as the speaker paused dramatically.

“I am your host Jackson Wang—”

There was a brief scuffle with sounds of thudding and muffled voices as the microphone was taken from him. “—and I am your actual host, Sasha Novak, here to ask you all…” She paused. “Who’s ready for some games?”

The energised cadets cheered even louder than before.

The first game of the night was limbo—something simple to get the competitive ball rolling. Hunk saw Lance’s cheshire grin before he could even spot him, the boy in blue adjusting his sleeves with confidence. Bright up-tempo music began to play as the line of party-goers made their way under the pole.

Hunk did not fool himself into believing he was flexible by any means but joined the line regardless. He was one of the first to be eliminated, his nose bumping against the pole as he struggled to keep his head back. The circle of spectators grew as the competitors dwindled down to just two: Lance and a shorter boy wearing all black and a red motorcycle helmet.

While Lance was a showman, shimmying his hips as he cleared the pole with ease, his opponent was more direct in his technique. The boy in black shifted his stance, legs evenly spread as he lowered his back, arms by his side to maintain his balance. The helmet was going to cause issue but despite goading from the crowd, he stubbornly refused to remove it.

The pole now stood at a devastating twenty inches. Lance blew a kiss to the crowd, waving and grinning beneath his mask before he prepared for the round, shaking out each leg and stretching his arms above his head. Legs impossibly wide, weight resting on his ankles, he shuffled forward along the ground, knees and back suspended off the ground. The audience held their collective breaths as Lance raised his head slightly before leaning back just enough to clear the pole.

The boy in the helmet removed his jacket, causing the crowd to ‘ooh’ in interest. Not as flexible as his opponent, the boy had to be strategic with his approach. Using the same technique, balancing on his ankles, he slowly lowered his body, arms hovering forward. His chest rose and fell in controlled breaths, still too high to clear the pole. He bent slightly further back, shuffling forward. He’d need to go lower for his head to pass under. Pausing with his torso almost entirely clearing the pole, the visor of his helmet staring directly up. Hunk’s abdomen clenched in sympathy, astounded by the core strength of this boy.

Finally, the boy relented, his back dropping against the floor.

Victorious but not discourteous, Lance offered the boy a hand. His competitor shook his head, rejecting the hand as he hauled himself up. Lance frowned but was soon swept up in celebration with his peers.

“Congratulations to our winner, the blue swan!” Sasha announced over the mic. “Now, we’ll cut to a musical interlude from our own student bands but stayed tuned for more games at nine!”

Hunk took this opportunity to duck to the bathroom. Music muffled through the walls, Hunk sighed as he locked the cubicle door. He heard the door to the bathroom swing open not long after, boots thudding against the tiled floor. Finishing his business, Hunk flushed the toilet, exiting the stall to be met with the face of Keith Kogane staring wide-eyed at him in the mirror. Helmet placed on the benchtop beside him, Keith froze, wet hands hovering in midair, water sliding down his wrists and forearms. His face was flushed and wet from Keith’s obvious attempts to cool off at the sink.

“Keith,” Hunk said, surprised but warm. “Hey. Didn’t know you were back on campus.”

“Hey,” Keith said, averting his eyes.

“That was you?”

“Hm?”

“Limbo,” Hunk clarified. “That was insane. I mean, with the helmet—”

“I’ll see you ‘round,” Keith said, pulling his helmet back over his face.

“Yeah, okay—” Keith had already pushed past him, leaving Hunk alone at the sink. “See you around, I guess…”

“I hope you’re all ready for our final game of the night!” That dude—Jackson?—had somehow got a hold of the mic again. “At the tables to your left, you’ll find balloons and string.”

A murmur passed through the crowd. This was a game that Hunk was terrifyingly familiar with. In sixth grade, he fainted due to this game. The loud, sudden popping sound had triggered his nervous system or something and now he had globophobia—the fear of balloons popping. Lance, who was beside him again, was buzzing with excitement.

“I’m gonna sit this one out,” Hunk said.

Lance no doubt thought he was subtle, but Hunk immediately caught onto the way he deflated. “Y’know,” he said, stretching his arms and yawning. “I think I’m all gamed out—”

“Dude,” Hunk interrupted. “It’s fine. Go have fun.”

Behind the mask, it was difficult to read Lance’s expression but his voice was soft when he said: “You sure? I don’t mind sitting with you.”

Hunk smiled. “I’m sure. Go out there and destroy everyone.”

The corner of Lance’s mouth quirked upwards. “Okay.”

As the crowd shifted with students inflating balloons and tying them to their ankles, Hunk took the opportunity to head outside. A small group of cadets seemed to have the same idea, speaking in hushed tones and nursing drinks as they leant against the brick wall outside. Hunk lowered himself to the end of the metal bench and sighed.

The other cadets welcomed him, none of them needing to use words to communicate their mutual understanding. Sometimes, a little quiet in the presence of others was enough.

One of the cadets stood up and asked if anyone needed their drinks refilled, the offer to brave the noisy gymnasium not going unappreciated. Hunk hadn’t brought a cup with him but asked if it were possible for them to grab him some soda.

“What’s your major?” one of the teens asked, sitting cross-legged on the ground.

“Oh… Mechanical engineering.”

“Nice! My roommate’s in the same program. Do you know Patty?”

“Patricia Summers?” Hunk asked, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Yeah, we’re in the same Avionics class.”

“Awesome! I’m in Communications and Computer Science. I used to want to go to space but…”

“It’s nicer keeping your feet on the ground.”

She hummed in agreement.

The cadet who had gone to refill drinks—Minho—returned, grinning. “Hey guys, it’s nearly midnight. I’m heading back to join the New Year countdown if anyone wants to come with.”

Hunk and Bianca, the girl from Communications, agreed to join him, along with a few others. A large digital clock was projected on the wall of the gymnasium, everyone chanting as the numbers counted down.

“10… 9… 8…”

Hunk joined in, hopeful and excited for what the new year would bring.

“7… 6… 5…”

He glanced around to see if he could spot Lance.

“4… 3…”

A blur of blue pushed past a couple of cadets. Lance had removed his mask and was headed outside. His lips were pressed tight, his face pale.

“2… 1!”

Hunk’s eyes followed his roommate, concern furrowing his brow. Confetti sprayed over the gymnasium along with loud whoops of joy.

“Happy New Year!!”

Hunk excused himself, wading through the crowd.

Lance, what happened?

Chapter Text

“Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me.” Hunk repeated these apologies like a mantra as he passed peers and strangers alike. Cadets had arms slung over each other, lips pressed to cheeks, tongues inside mouths, glow sticks and confetti poppers raised in the air… It was loud and hot and—

The green exit sign lit up Hunk’s salvation. He uttered one last, “Excuse me, thank you” and stepped over the threshold.

The night air cut through his jacket, wind whipping the tassels against his sleeves. He scanned the courtyard for blue.

“Lance?” he called out.

A lone lamppost illuminated the empty concrete path, sparse patches of green growing in rebellion against the desert soil. The only sounds were Hunk’s uneven breaths and the distant bass of the gymnasium.

Hunk wandered farther from the gym, minding his step as he reached a ledge. He’d never explored this part of the Garrison. It wasn’t particularly interesting—a lone bench in a patch of dirt, a rusting trash can and a concrete path that led to a dead end—but it was peaceful.

Hunk wasn’t sure how far he walked but when he stopped, it was like he was in a vacuum. Looking down, he couldn’t even see his feet, but when he tilted his head toward the sky—

It was the clearest he’d ever seen the stars.

He recalled the conversation he’d had earlier with Bianca: I used to want to go to space…

What had changed?

Wriggling his toes in the sand, Hunk hummed as his listened to his mom, her voice synchronising with the ebbing tide. The sandbank cushioned his head, angled up towards the sky. Far from city lights, the beach was blanketed by the moon’s gentle glow.

“Now, if you follow that line down to the next star, those are his legs…”

Hunk followed his mom’s finger, tracing the figure in his mind. “And he has four of them, like a horse!”

His mom laughed, ruffling his hair. “That’s right, he’s a centaur—part man and part horse.”

Hunk reached outward, clenching his fist around the stars. “Mama?” he asked, his voice quiet yet hopeful. “Has anyone ever touched the stars?”

Even without looking at her, he could see her smile. “Not yet.”

Once more, Hunk found himself reaching out toward the stars. He curled his fingers around Alpha Centauri.

Not yet.

When Hunk returned to their dorm, he half hoped Lance would already be back. Especially since he’d been forced to leave his key card in the room. He pulled out his phone.

            Hunk: Hey buddy, you back at the dorm yet?

Leaning against the wall, Hunk waited for a response. He’d give it ten minutes before trying to find a staff member to let him in. Hunk yawned as he stared at his screen, praying for those blessed three dots.

It was another half hour before he found a faculty member who was still up, begging him to let him into his room.

“You shouldn’t be going anywhere without your key card, young man.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.” Hunk was so exhausted he was on the verge of tears. “Thank you so much, Commander.”

“Goodnight, cadet.”

Finally in his dorm, Hunk undressed and brushed his teeth as quickly as possible. Leaping under his covers and pulling them right up to his chin, he sighed deeply, his aching bones sinking into the mattress.

He dreamed of stars.

The next morning, Hunk was relieved to hear a familiar snore. It was already 10am but it had been a late night. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do since classes didn’t start back until next week. Maybe he’d see what Tash was up to.

Hunk’s first stop was the cafeteria. He picked up some yoghurt and granola, then sat at the nearest table to eat. Most tables were empty apart from a few other cadets and officers, each occupied by their late-morning breakfasts. His eyes wandered over to some posters on the noticeboards, offering various clubs and internships. While volleyball was fun, it wasn’t really Hunk’s thing.

His phone pinged.

            Lance: dude im so sorry

            Lance: pls don’t be mad

            Lance: where r u rn? getting dressed

Hunk exhaled softly, texting back.

            Hunk: Cafeteria. Want me to wait for you?

            Lance: yes pls. be there soon

Finishing up his granola, Hunk wandered over the noticeboards to peruse the extracurriculars. Commander Holt’s workshops on biochemistry and extraterrestrial geology could be interesting… If Hunk were to at any point go into space as a ship’s engineer, it’d be useful to have a more rounded scientific knowledge. The robotics club obviously drew his attention. They were creating rovers to collect samples from Pluto’s moons.

“Watcha lookin’ at?” A familiar voice said behind him.

Hunk was quite proud of himself for only flinching a little. “Just… stuff going on this year.”

“Ohh, pinch and a punch for the first day of the month, by the way!” Lance jabbed Hunk’s shoulder, grinning broadly. “And happy new year too, of course.”

Hunk rubbed his shoulder, shaking his head. He observed Lance’s expressions, gauging how receptive he’d be to personal questions. The smile seemed genuine enough and his eyes appeared to be well-rested, so Hunk tried his luck. “Was everything okay last night?”

The smile faded but Lance wasn’t closing off. “Yeah, uh… Sorry again for leaving you locked out. I totally forgot—"

“Don’t worry about it, man. I still got to sleep.”

Lance looked up, unclasping his hands. “There was someone at the party last night and I dunno… I think I blew it.”

Hunk frowned, guiding them over to a table. “Blew what?”

Lance rubbed the back of his neck, sitting down. “You know I get really competitive.”

Hunk rolled his eyes.  “Mhm.”

“Well, I kinda rubbed my whole limbo win in his face and I didn’t mean it in, like, a malicious way or anything but then it came to the balloon game and the dude was totally targeting me and I felt kinda bad but I was stupid and kept teasing him…”

“Not seeing anything unusual here.”

Lance’s lips quirked up briefly. “At the end of the game, he sorta grabbed my arm…” He shivered at the memory. “And he asked, ‘Why’d you let me win?’.”

Hunk’s eyes widened.  “You let him win?”

“I mean, I didn’t think I did. Not at first.” Lance’s eyes drifted to his shoes. “I thought it was just an accident and I got distracted. I mean, why would I let someone else win?”

“Did you feel bad about teasing him?”

“Maybe?”

“I mean, it’s not that weird.”

“Well, when he asked, I got really defensive and was like, ‘Ha! You wish, mullet.’ And then, even though he was wearing that stupid helmet, it felt like he was just… staring at me. It was weird.”

Something seemed to click in Hunk’s mind but he didn’t say anything.

“And then the jerk just shoved me away like I was the one that grabbed him!” Lance threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “I didn’t even find out who the guy was under that dumb helmet. It was a masquerade party. Like you can still sorta see part of someone’s face.”

Hunk nodded sagely, opting not to mention the fursuit heads that Lance seemed to have no problem with. “So… just so we’re on the same page: do you hate this guy or want to be his friend?”

“Huh?”

“I’m getting mixed signals, buddy.”

“I’m annoyed, obviously!”

“So annoyed that you spent the night searching for a mysterious dude in a bike helmet?”

Lance opened his mouth to argue before wisely closing it again. He knew he sounded ridiculous. “Whatever, man,” he grumbled.

When classes started back up again, Hunk soon learnt that being a cadet was a lot of hard work. Mandatory physical training now happened twice a week and his lungs were paying for it. He wasn’t sure why it was necessary for an engineer to be able to run two miles while carrying a thirty-pound bag. “Aren’t things lighter in space anyway?” he asked, legs shaking as he sat on the bench beside Sasha and Jin.

“Yeah, but you’ll need upper-body strength to make external repairs in zero-g,” Jin pointed out.

“Ugghhh.”

Sasha pat him on the back. “It’s tough but hey, at least this’ll help me get ripped.”

“I don’t think running will—”

“Can’t a girl dream, Jin?”

“My apologies.”

Robotics and mechanical engineering workshops began eating into his nights and Lance was just as tied up with his piloting coursework.

“I’m still stuck in cargo but there’s a reassessment in June where I can re-apply for fighter class.”

Hunk knew that was a sore spot for Lance. “I mean, cargo still takes a lot of skill. You’re usually transferring fragile or even unstable resources which requires even more care than fighter, if you think about it.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You can’t do barrel rolls, I know.”

Lance sighed.

Hunk tried for a tactical redirect. “Hey, have you seen Keith lately?”

Lance glanced up, humming in thought. “Now that I think about it, no, not really. Like… his attendance hasn’t been stellar to begin with. I’ve heard the only class he really attends are the flight sims and even now, some of our classmates are talking about how he’s gone AWOL.”

“I hope things are alright…”

After a pause, Lance nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

They sat in silence while other cadets milled in and out of the cafeteria. There were considerably fewer students entering now, which prompted Hunk to check his watch. He groaned. “I swear we never catch a break.”

Lance laughed, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “Tell me about it.” He caught himself on the table as he stood. “Hey, isn’t it someone’s birthday soon?”

Hunk busied himself with his shoelaces.

“The big one-seven, I hear…”

“No one calls it that.”

“I do.”

“Everything’s the big something for you, Lance.”

Lance huffed. “Maybe you’d be less grumpy if you treated every occasion like a big something.”

Hunk smiled as they began to walk out with the remaining cadets. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Soooo any plans?”

“Probably just calling my family, you know.” Hunk shrugged.

Lance tutted, picking up the pace. “We’ll need to do better than that. I’ll catch you tonight and we’ll make a real plan.”

“Just nothing crazy, okay?”

Lance was already running, his class on the other side of campus. “No promises!”