APHELION
noun (astronomy) - the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is furthest from the sun.

two: hunk

For Hunk, crying comes as easily as breathing. That's how it's always been, mostly because Hunk sees a lot of stuff other people don't, and he's a fairly sensitive guy.

As he stirs the pot in front of him, he thinks about home, about Grandma, who'd always told him that men should be unafraid to share their vulnerabilities and that crying would only make them stronger. He thinks a lot about Grandma these days.

"Smells good." Shiro's voice floats through the room, and Hunk hears rather than sees Voltron's leader sit down at the table. "What is it?"

Hunk lets himself smile and tastes the stew before ladling it into two bowls, putting the lid back on the pot. "Hunk's old-fashioned space stew," he says, setting a bowl in front of Shiro. "Family recipe, except with a couple of exotic ingredients."

Shiro cracks a smile at that. Everything in the pantry is an exotic ingredient, though Hunk has been gathering different ones every time they stop by a planet.

"It's delicious," he says, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth. "You're going to have to make this more often."

Hunk sits back and enjoys the meal, sweet and a little spicy. The vegetables, which are dark purple, are soft, and they melt in his mouth. He closes his eyes and can almost imagine he's eating Grandma's cooking.

"Is that soup?"

Pidge rubs at their glasses and slides into the seat next to Shiro. Hunk fills another bowl and slides it across the table.

"Thought you'd be working on something or the other, pidget," he says, and Pidge rolls their eyes at the nickname. Lance had coined it, as he does with most of the team's nicknames - pidget, "like midget but with a p," he'd snickered. If he wasn't using pidget, he'd call them Pidgey.

Hunk grins at the thought.

"Don't call me pidget," they mutter into their stew, using a sleeve to wipe their glasses clean from fog. Shiro ruffles their hair and earns an indignant squawk.

"Okay, Pidgey," he jokes, and Hunk and Shiro laugh at their disgruntled look.

"Pidgey's even worse," they grumble. "like, I'm not a Pidgeotto, at least? Or a Pidgeot? But no, I'm resigned to being some CP 10 Pidgey."

Shiro smiles, looking the most relaxed he's been in a while. "Oh, come on," he says. "you're probably the only CP 2067 Pidgey in existence."

Pidge mutters something, scowling, but their lips turn upward slightly.

"I just came from seeing Lance, actually," Pidge admits. "He's doing really well. Allura and Coran both think the healing process won't take much longer, so he'll be out in a day or two."

Hunk lets a few tears fall even though a grin splits his face. He's missed Lance. Like, a lot.

He sighs fondly. "He's just got this problem with, like, getting himself in trouble."

Shiro raises an eyebrow. "Yeah," Pidge agrees. "oh, God, do you remember that time with Lance and the substitute flight instructor?"

Hunk frowns, thinking hard. "You mean with the trash can and the lasers?"

Shiro leans forward, raising both eyebrows. "You'll have to tell me this story," he says, propping his chin on his prosthetic hand. "I don't think I've heard it."

They're interrupted halfway through the story by Keith, who's come from what looks like a hard training session, and as Hunk serves another bowl of stew, they get sidetracked by what sounds the lasers make - because obviously, they go pchew pchew and not pow pow pow.

By the end of it, the four of them are in stitches. Keith's face is as red as his lion, Shiro is doubled over gasping for breath, and Pidge is pounding the table. Their laughter fills the room and eases the aching weight that's been settled on Hunk's shoulders.

It doesn't last, though, because a second later, Allura bursts into the room. Her skirts settle around her when she drops them, and she breathes hard for a moment. Then she straightens. "Paladins."

Shiro, their leader, is the first to react. "Princess, what's wrong?"

She takes a deep, shaky breath. "It's Lance."

Lance. Of course it's Lance - Lance, who stays up with Hunk until two eating ramen and tells joke, Lances, who's always welcomed him with open arms, Lance, who has five siblings and a family that stretches beyond blood, Lance, snarky and funny and brave. Lance, who doesn't deserve anything the universe has thrown at him lately.

"His vitals have dropped," Allura tells them, and Hunk shakes in his seat. "Not by much, but in his state, it's dangerous for him. Coran suggests that perhaps a more familiar presence may help."

Hunk is already standing, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'll go."

Allura gives the barest of nods before he runs out the door and towards the med bay. The only thing Hunk knows is that he can't lose his best friend.

"Ah, Hunk," Coran says when he stumbles to a stop. The Altean begins to babble, like he usually does - the more nervous he is, the more his mouth runs. But suddenly Pidge is there, taking Coran by the arm and leading him out, leaving Hunk alone.

He sits on the steps next to Lance's pod and sighs, not knowing what to say.

"Sometimes I wish none of this ever happened." Hunk scratches at the back of his head. "I mean... I feel like I've found another family and all that, but sometimes I just wanna go back to the way it used to be."

"Galaxy Garrison, you know, cramming for our exams the day before, and the flight simulators, and no... no lions and no running for our lives and no losing our friends."

He cries a little, and he knows Lance would've put a hand on his shoulder and said something a little profound before breaking the moment with an awful pun that would've made Hunk laugh anyway.

He talks for a little longer, telling Lance about his plans for making space papa fritas and how he remembers spending summers with the McClain's, singing songs in a language he doesn't understand but loves anyway, racing each other down the street, and sleeping pressed up next to each other like brothers, making constellations out of the cheap plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on the ceiling.

"Mind if I join you?"

Shiro stands in the entrance, and Hunk shakes his head and pats the empty space next to him. They sit in silence for a moment, no words between them but an understanding passing through anyway.

"I feel like it's my fault."

Hunk frowns. "You know it's not your fault."

Shiro sighs, staring at his hands, one flesh and bone, the other prosthetic. "That doesn't make it better. I'm the one who's supposed to..."

"You can't," he says, a little sad. "We all want this, even if it feels like we don't. And Lance... yeah, he misses home, but he wants this more than any of us. We belong here, we choose to do this."

"I wish we didn't have to."

A beat. "He really looks up to you, you know," Hunk says conversationally. "I mean, he already did, and like, you're a super awesome leader and stuff. But I also think you kind of remind him of Antonio - his brother."

Shiro looks back at Lance, eyes thoughtful. "I've always wanted a brother."

Hunk reaches for his hand and holds it tight. "Well," he says, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "Now you have three. Three-and-a-half. Four-ish."

Shiro is kind of like the older brother, though most of the time, they joke about him being the Space Dad. It's nice having someone listen.

"We should go," Shiro offers hesitantly after a while, even though he doesn't really look like he wants to leave. Hunk glances at his wrist, where a set of glowing numbers lazily blink back at him - their newest invention, something that gets them pretty close to running on Earth time. It is late.

"Yeah," Hunk responds, but neither of them move.

They both turn to look at Lance. Half-healed and asleep, he looks peaceful, shedding some of the years that seemed to have been added when no one was looking.

But there's a lot of scars now, lines and marks that will never leave Lance's body. A painful, immortal reminder.

"Lance wouldn't want to be alone," Hunk whispers. And Lance wouldn't. Growing up with a large family, Lance had always had someone there, and at Galaxy Garrison, Hunk had done his best to fill that gap if and when he could. It feels wrong to leave now.

"Lance wouldn't want us to sacrifice our rest over him, either," Shiro counters. Hunk's shoulders slump at the argument.

Shiro sighs and stands, offering a hand to haul Hunk up. They walk out of the med bay together, the humming of the cyropod at work the only sound following them.

They have to pass the training deck to get to their rooms, and Hunk isn't surprised when he sees Keith hard at work, pressing back against a bot. Shiro joins him, the two of them watching Keith for a moment before the paladin finishes, calling for the end of the session and sitting down, bayard at his side.

Hunk realizes Shiro's moved to the entrance and hurries to follow. "Hey, kid."

Keith, now sprawled on his back, cranes his neck to look at them. "Shiro," he says, voice warm. "Hunk."

"It's late," Hunk says before anyone can get in another word, voice firm. "and we should all catch a few hours of sleep."

Keith retracts his bayard and sits up, stretching languidly before getting on his feet. He looks exhausted; dark bags hang under his eyes, and his hands are shaking with exertion.

"How's Lance," he says, though it's not really a question.

Hunk rubs at his wrist. "Okay."

"He's stable now," Shiro says, ruffling Keith's hair absentmindedly with a hand and ignoring the paladin's glare. "I'm sure he'll be a lot better in the morning."

Everyone will, Hunk supposes. This late at night, no one's bound to be doing very good, much less Lance of all people. But eight hours of sleep and recovery does wonders.

And it does. Hunk wakes up the next morning and feels refreshed, like energy has seeped into his muscles.

He's halfway through breakfast when Shiro pads in, bleary-eyed and not yet awake. "Have you seen Pidge?"

Hunk swallows his mouthful of space goo. "Um... now that I think about it, no."

Keith slams his bowl of breakfast down on the table harder than necessary, like he doesn't want to be awake - he's clearly not a morning person. "Probably stayed up working on something or the other and fell asleep in the lab."

They all nod in agreement. Hunk finishes his breakfast. "I'll go check."

But Pidge isn't in their lab. He has to double-check, because Pidge can fall asleep anywhere, and they're so small. "Pidge?"

Allura's space mice chatter when they see him, curled up on one of Pidge's latest experiments. "Hey, little buddies. Have you seen Pidge?"

They all shake their heads in a no before scampering off, splitting into different directions to join the search. Hunk has to remind himself that they're still real and that none of this is a figment of his imagination before he goes to the hangar.

Pidge isn't there either. He checks Green and finds the lion empty, no late-night modifications made to him. Blue's empty, too, still a large, hunking mass of twisted metal and burnt sides.

"Hey, Blue," he says, because that's what Lance calls her. "I'll do some repairs on you today, okay?"

She hums under his large hand, her eyes flickering in answer before going dark again. He sighs. She's as hurt as her paladin is.

So Pidge isn't here. Hunk sets off on a quest through the entire ship, running into Coran at one point and almost deviating from his mission when the Altean starts one of his stories. He manages to get out of it, though, promising to come back later.

The question remains: where's Pidge?

Hunk is usually the first to panic. His mind comes up with a thousand scenarios: Pidge has been kidnapped right under their noses, or Pidge got stuck and fell asleep in one of the vents, or Pidge accidentally was experimenting with anti-gravity, and now one of the rooms will get them all stuck to the ceiling.

Instead, he finds Pidge sprawled on the floor of the med bay, back pressed against the steps. The pod next to them is empty, and Hunk's heart leaps in his throat. Next to Pidge is a sleeping form that looks like...

"Lance!" he yells, running forward joyously.

Pidge jerks their head up and presses a finger to their lips. "Hunk," they say, voice soft, and Hunk stops in his tracks.

Lance is curled up on the floor, a blanket tucked over his sleeping form. On closer inspection, he's half-draped over Pidge, his head on their thigh and one hand clasping their's.

"I don't want to wake him," Pidge says, stopping halfway through to yawn. "but he won't get off me."

"When...?"

Pidge shrugs. "Maybe, like, three in the morning? Passed out on me before I could get him back to his room or something."

They finally give in and gently shakes his shoulder. Hunk kneels down on Lance's other side, waiting for his friend to wake up.

A pair of confused brown eyes crack open, blinking as they adjust to the dim light. Lance makes a questioning noise that changes into a wordless yell when Hunk throws his arms around him and holds on tight, laughing.

"Lance, buddy," he jabbers, feeling hesitant arms snake across his back. "Man, Coran said you wouldn't be awake for another day or two, and your vitals dropped yesterday so we were scared out of our minds, and-"

"Hunk, the poor guy just woke up. Cut him some slack," Pidge says, and Hunk shoves down his excitement and releases Lance long enough so he can study him.

He looks a million times better. His wounds are healed, though Hunk can see pale lines as a reminder of where they'd been, and he doesn't look quite as pale as before.

"You look like shit," Pidge says matter-of-factly.

"Pidge," Hunk hisses out of the corner of his mouth, gaping at them. But then he notices the dark circles that hang under Lance's eyes and how he can't quite seem to focus on anyone or anything too long.

"Umm," Lance mutters. He wets his lips and jerks upwards sharply before lolling dangerously to the side. Hunk puts a hand on his back to steady him and exchanges a worried look with Pidge.

"You okay there, buddy?"

Lance mumbles something that sounds like nonsense. He struggles to get up, his limbs moving awkwardly as if he doesn't quite remember how to use them.

Pidge, now free, clambers to their feet. "Ugh," they say. "Why the fuck are you so heavy, Lance?"

Hunk is half-expecting Lance to shoot back a scathing remark, or to boast about his muscles, but there's nothing. He stands there, shoulders tense, and stares at his hands.

Pidge moves forward and touches his shoulder.

"...Lance?" they say, annoyance giving way to concern.

"Um," Lance says. "I'm, uh, fine. Yeah, fine."

"Are you sure, buddy?" Hunk asks, hovering anxiously. It's easy to get worked up, easy to worry when Lance looks like he's about to fall over at any given moment. But Lance takes a step, then another, like a newborn fawn learning to walk - or a drunkard - before righting himself.

"I'm fine," he snaps, and the sudden heat in his words is enough to make Hunk take a step back.

Pidge reaches for his hand and taps a message into it, a code the three of them had made up during their Galaxy Garrison days. They haven't used it in such a long time that it takes Hunk a moment to understand, but he does.

S-M-T-H-S W-R-O-N-G.

"Sorry," says Lance, the three of them moving through the med way and heading out towards the mess hall. They pause outside the doors.

U-R R-I-G-H-T.

"I'll just... I'll head back to my room. Catch you guys later!"

Hunk and Pidge watch him go in the opposite direction, a lone figure passing through the halls of the castle. They don't let go of each other's hands.

ugh do you ever think about posting something and just die inside. a.k.a: I want to get to the good part of this fic, but that's really, really far off.

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