#hunkshipweek

Hunk Ship Week - Day 1: Warmth/Strength

“Coran, may I make a request?” Allura asked while Coran was buried from the waist up in the underbelly of castle machinery.

“Of course princess!” he shouted over the noise of various pieces parts moving and clicking into place.

“Could you adjust the temperature of the castle so it’s a bit too warm? Nothing unbearable, just... hot.”

Coran slid out so he could look inquisitively up at Allura. “Yes, but why?”

Allura pressed her lips together and looked to the side. “No reason in particular.”

—

Allura perched on a stool behind the kitchen counter, head propped on the backs of both her hands. It was hot and Coran had promised the team he was trying to fix it, but everyone was dressed down until Coran “figured it out.” For Allura, that meant tying her hair up and wearing a simple short sleeved shirt with shorts. For Hunk, it meant wearing a tank top and shorts, showing off the full expanse of his beautiful, incredible arms.

They were everything she’d hoped they’d be and more.

Her eyes tracked his every move, nigh glued to those arms that were positively ruinous to her health and general ability to focus. They’d picked up a vast assortment of ingredients from the most recent planet they’d visited and Hunk was in full swing with his culinary experimentations. All about the kitchen he moved, chopping this and grinding that and slicing and shredding and mixing and kneading. God, Allura loved watching him knead dough. His powerful hands worked the dough with familiarity and unstoppable force, completely at ease as he worked the stubborn foodstuff down pliable beneath his expert fingers. She enjoyed the strain of his arms as he dug his palm into the dough, her eyes tracing the hard lines of his muscles, enjoyed his deft hands that she knew—she just knew—would be good for holding.

“Do you want to try?” Hunk asked, snapping Allura out of her muscle-entranced stupor.

“Hm? Oh, I, sure, but I don’t know how.” Allura stood up and rounded the counter, eyes flicking back up to the absolutely godlike width of Hunk’s gorgeous, bare shoulders.

“Well, start with washing your hands,” Hunk said with a pleasant chuckle.

“Sound advice,” Allura said with a chuckle of her own, feeling a touch silly for forgetting something so simple. But she could hardly be blamed. She was distracted.

Hands clean, Allura moved in closer to Hunk than was strictly necessary, their arms a hairsbreadth from touching.

“Now, kneading dough is pretty simple, but simple doesn’t always mean easy. Though, you’re so strong, it probably will be,” Hunk said with a bashful grin. He showed her what to do and she tried her best to listen closely, but her mind kept drifting to the pleasant flex of his forearms that she was in such a prime position to appreciate.

“Okay now you try,” Hunk encouraged, and Allura stepped in. Wickedly, mischievously, she decided to play dumb. She pretended to struggle with the rhythm and motion of it, like she hadn’t memorized the pattern in her close examination of Hunk’s every sleeveless move.

“Hunk, do you think you could give me a more... hands-on demonstration?” Allura asked coyly, giving him her best doe-eyes. To her immense satisfaction, that seemed to fluster him.

“Erm, sure, I can do that,” Hunk said agreeably, his smile only slightly nervous. As Allura had hoped, he stepped behind her and placed his hands on top of hers, leaning his face in close as his breathtaking arms bracketed hers. He explained the process again, guiding her hands with his own, and she bit her lip and paid very close attention to the way his warm skin felt as it moved and flexed against her.

“Got it?” Hunk asked, and Allura hummed and nodded, kneading the dough as easily as someone who had spent the last however long meticulously watching Hunk do exactly this.

“Hey, looks like you do!” Hunk said brightly, moving away. Allura hated to see him go, but she did enjoy the sight of his arms now back on display where she could ogle them freely.

Except that when she glanced up, she saw that Hunk was watching her and had absolutely caught her gaze lingering on his glorious muscles.

“You know... you can touch them if you want,” Hunk offered, eyes skittering sideways as he flushed once again. Allura was no fool, and was not going to turn down such a fortuitous opportunity. Immediately she latched onto his arm, hugging his bicep and pressing her face into the sweet smelling skin.

“Woah, okay,” Hunk said, grinning in a mix of bashfulness and pride. “I guess my arms are pretty rad.” Hunk flexed his other arm, and Allura felt her soul ascend into a higher plane of existence.

“Very much so, yes,” she agreed, not moving from her embrace of his sweet, sweet, gorgeous arm, but eyes locked on his proffered muscles like the highest and finest of art.

Hunk laughed, sounding embarrassed, and then scratched at the back of his head. “Look at me, hamming it up in front of a pretty girl, god, you must think I’m so cheesy.”

“I like cheese!” Allura hastened to reassure. “Immensely. With desire. I-that is. I would desire more cheese. Of a social variety.” Well now it seemed to be her turn to feel flustered. Not that she was letting go of Hunk’s arm for love or money by that point, but she felt heat rush to her face that had nothing to do with the castle’s temperature.

“Would you maybe... also like to go on a date sometime?” Hunk asked timidly, eyeing her as intensely as she eyed his muscles.

“You know Hunk, I’ve been meaning to ask you that exact question for quite some time now.”

—

home is wherever i’m with you (Hunk/Pidge, theme: sugar/spice)

Pidge sat on the counter, legs swinging idly as she watched him. It was a leftover habit from their days in the Castle of Lions, when she used to wander over to the kitchen to pick his brain over some new idea she’d had then wait for him to finish experimenting with his latest alien food find so they could head down to the lab together. Man, did he miss that lab. There had been other ships, and other castles, but they had never found anything else quite like it.

Technically, Pidge wasn’t supposed to be up on the counter at all. Even though her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wasn’t actually touching the food, it was probably a health code violation. But he wasn’t about to start telling her off now. Besides, what was the point of owning your own restaurant if you didn’t get to make the rules?

The kitchen timer buzzed, interrupting his train of thought. Hunk stopped mixing and looked down at the bowl. The egg whites had peaked, just like they were supposed to. Earth eggs were predictable like that. Was it bad that he kind of missed when eggs weren’t so predictable?

He grabbed the other bowl and carefully folded the egg whites into the batter.

“Remember those weird Talwar eggs?” Pidge said abruptly. “If you stirred them counterclockwise, they turned everything green, but if you went clockwise they dissolved?”

He did remember those. He pretended to shudder. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I actually got really tired of eating green eggs and space ham.”

“And here I was thinking you might like a souvenir,” Pidge teased. “I’m sure there’s still a produce section at the swap moon near Kepler Base. They might have some in stock.”

“Well, if you’re offering to pick some things up, I wouldn’t say no to more of those carrot-y things the Gulgans grew.”

“Eww! No, no way. Those were so slimy!”

“They were not! They were just a little… chewy, maybe?”

Talking like this made it easy to forget that tomorrow everything was going to change. Pidge would be headed into space on her first official Galaxy Garrison mission, while he would be staying on Earth, officially retired from military service.

He put the mixing bowl down to grab the last ingredients. Wordlessly, Pidge slid an open jar of peanut butter over to him across the counter. He nodded in thanks, scooping out what he needed and adding it to the batter. On second thought, he tossed in a little extra spice, just for good measure.

Pidge sniffed the air appreciatively, her heels knocking against the side of the counter. Cinnamon and peanut butter were a pretty good mix, but the scent tended to linger.

“The smell’s probably going to stick,” Hunk warned her, gesturing to her new uniform. 

She shrugged, the shoulders of the grey jacket bunching up strangely on her small frame. “That’s okay. Just means I’ll smell like home.”

That was a nice way of putting it. It made his chest feel all warm. He grinned. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Pidge watched him drop the batter onto a cookie sheet in careful, even rows before putting it into the oven. On the outside it looked like a standard commercial oven, but Coran had insisted on adding something he’d dubbed ‘targeting convection’, a modification of the Castle’s former weapons systems that would pinpoint the location of any organic matter and hit it with exactly the right temperature. Technically, it meant that Hunk didn’t really have to worry about evenly spacing anything out ever again, but old habits died hard.

He shut the oven door and reset the timer. Nine doboshes sounded about right for this batch. He’d kept the Castle’s timer out of nostalgia. It suddenly hit him that if he ever hired any employees, he’d have to get a regular kitchen timer, unless he wanted to teach them to read Altean. Or he could hire an alien employee–

He looked over at Pidge, about to ask her to send him any potential job candidates who were out of this world, but she didn’t seem to be in the mood for joking around anymore. Her legs had finally stilled. She was staring down at her knees, hands twisting in her lap.

“I’m going to miss your peanut butter cookies,” Pidge said to her knees. “I really love them.”

Something told Hunk this wasn’t just about cookies.

He took a few minutes to mull it over. He put the mixing bowls in the sink to soak, wiped down the countertops, grabbed two clean spoons from a drawer.  Pidge talked a lot, but he knew better than anyone that there were some things she would never be able to say. Not directly, anyway.

He eyed the counter. Rules were rules, but then again, he was the boss. So Hunk pushed himself up on the counter to sit next to her, their legs pressed together, and gently nudged her foot with his own until she looked up at him.

“Hey. Pidge.”

“Mmm.”

Hunk offered her a spoon and the jar of peanut butter. He helped himself to his own spoonful while he was at it. The smell of peanut butter cookies baking wafted through the kitchen.

So Hunk totally didn’t get what the big deal about demons were. Like him, they were just doing a job.

And then Lotor showed up.

(For @hunkshipweek 2018)

Sweet Stuff 

Heith Hance

Summary:  A series of one shot fics for Hunk Ship Week.

Pairing- Hunk/Lance- Fear/Courage

@hunkshipweek

When Hunk went to Lance’s bedroom he barely had the time to knock before he heard the scream.  Hunk instantly opened the door and was greeted by Lance dashing out and ducking behind him for cover.

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Hunk asked as Lance gripped his arms tightly.

Lance pointed a finger over Hunk’s shoulder.  “There’s a spider in my room!”

Hunk blinked.  “Huh? A spider?”

“Yeah, you know eight legs, makes webs, has those creepy eyes-”

“I know what a spider is,” Hunk cut in gently, “but how is there one in your room?  We’re miles from Earth.”

“I don’t know,” Lance snapped as he shook his head.  “Maybe it hitched a ride on the Blue Lion, or maybe it’s a space spider!  All I know is that I was taking a nap when I wake up to see it dangling above my bed.”

“You sure you weren’t just dreaming?” Hunk asked.  “Remember the giant lizard incident?”