#pilotlmcclain

A piercing cry woke him, Yellow clawing at him from inside his skull with a near instant cry- no, a scream, for him to wake up.

His head hurt- it was throbbing near the base of his skull, like he’d been hit with something hard. The cold ground under him almost felt heavenly against the chilled flooring.

His fingers ached, his palms feeling numb against the ice. A shiver stole across him, and it took everything he had to muffle his groan as his entire body tingled unpleasantly.

Hunk moaned, his breath leaving in a white cloud. The sound echoed around him, seeming to almost bounce back against whatever he was laying on.

It took Hunk several long, long minutes to even move, his legs sluggishly scuffing against what his slowly recovering mind told him was ice. His top was, he realized, missing his armored chest plating and missing his helmet. While normally it was almost a relief to be down twenty plus pounds of gear, it wasn’t such

When he opened his eyes, he realized that he was, indeed, surrounded by ice. It was a deep pit, with the sides so smooth that he could see himself reflected a thousand times over. It roughened out as it reached down to where he was, and he could see branching tunnels of rough worn ice out of the corners of his eyes.

At the very top of the pit, Yellow was braced as close as she could get without her bulk risking breaking the fragile frozen liquid. Her intense gaze was fixated on him. She could not get to him, but he could feel her worry, her anxiety. She was afraid.

What was she afraid of...?

Hunk struggled to his feet, his head hazy. A quick run of his numb fingers across the back of his neck made him flinch. There was a singular scabbed wound- a puncture mark. He’d been drugged. What had he- where had...?

His gaze found Lance, and Hunk figured he could worry about that later. Like himself, the Cuban had been stripped down to just his armored pants, and his armored tank top that worked as under armor. However, unlike Hunk, Lance didn’t have the extra padding to keep warm, and there was no telling how long they’d been down here.

Hunk hit his knees the first time he tried to gain his feet, so he ended up scooting over on the slick ice, letting his armored knee pads take the scuffing. He leaned over, and scooped Lance’s torso up against his own, chilled hands already going to work rubbing warmth back into Lance.

“Lance...” He whispered. “Lance. Come on, Lance. Es hora de despertar ahora.” Hunk tucked the cuban’s head against his chest, easing his body up effortlessly as he checked him over for wounds while trying to warm him up with the body heat that he had in spades.

“Hmm...”

Hunk was more or less contemplatively peering down into the mixing bowl of brownie batter, wondering if he needed to add more xoggito, or just stick with adding more vanilla. Xoggito was basically the Balmeran version of cinnamon- but it did sometimes have... odd effects. Such as turning the tongue and lips different colors. Harmless, completely, but it was a little alarming to be eating a baked good and get turned a silly color.

Hunk would have used actual cinnamon, but he’d run out and they hadn’t had the chance to make a stop by earth for resupply yet.

He really wanted to get some ground time- he missed his Tina and his Tamā. Yeah, he couldn’t go home anymore, but Samoa was never home to him. His family was. Besides, Cuba wasn’t bad- his family got along swimmingly with Lance’s.

His fingers drummed an idle noise on the counter and he shifted his weight, undershirt sliding up slightly. He pulled it back down, itching at the scar that raced up his hip. “Well. I guess I’ll know who keeps eating all my brownies in the middle of the night.” He rumbles softly.

A soft laugh leaves him as he stretches up to fetch the Xoggito from it’s place in his cabinet.

“Ah, alien food sure gets the best reactions sometimes. You’d think we hadn’t been eating it for years already with how everyone always freaks out over rainbow-lips.” His chortles are the happily amused sort. He’s content to amuse himself in the kitchen, where he’s alone. Or, at least, presumably so.

“I didn’t even know there was snow in space.” That was Keith’s first response, as he stared out the window at what was indeed large, white, fluffy flakes that covered the planet. In a way, it was beautiful. Keith had never actually seen snow. Growing up in Texas, it wasn’t something that happened often. His violet eyes reflected that he was mesmerized, his gloved fingers moving up to the window and touching the chilled pane. They had been out on a mission, and once it had been completed, the others had all decided to rent these little cottages that had been provided. Lance and Keith had just been stuck together. 

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, pulling back from the window and the staring before shrugging his shoulders. “There isn’t much we can do about it but make the most of it.” He grumbled, moving around the small cabin to try and find some candles. It had knocked out the power, with how bad the storm was, and right now all the light they had was the fireplace that was graciously provided. Thank goodness aliens got cold as well. Unable to find anything, he sighed, grabbing a pillow from the couch and flopping in front of the fireplace on his stomach, shivering just slightly. 

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Pidge smiled when she felt his arms wrap around her from behind, seeing his familiar jacket as he did so. “What’s up, Lance? You must be pretty bored to come find me in the lab.”

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