Coran had been lying in wait beforehand.
He'd tugged on Hunk's sleeve during Space Family gaming night. Hunk been too enthralled to notice at first; an otherwise well-meaning effort on Shiro's part had taken a tragic turn in the parlor. Naturally the board game Coran had produced for the occasion was the equivalent of Altaen Monopoly, which Hunk understood in hindsight was more capable of destroying Voltron from the inside out than Zarkon ever was.
Hunk had been a veritable beast at Monopoly back on Earth, but his mind had wandered that evening and he was comfortable with going bankrupt first. At the very least, it meant that Hunk could shift from his spot on the floor to the sofa and watch the spectacle, which was just as destructive as a plane crash and equally-enthralling to watch.
Needless to say, Keith and Lance's priority hadn't been to win so much as it was to knock the other out of the competition first. Their red and blue pieces chased each other all over the board, though everyone owed Pidge money, and she lazily rifled through the fake cash with a lazy, Cheshire-like smile. Shiro proved his effectiveness as a multi-tasker when he prevented Lance from overturning the table after landing in Prison, and sternly-admonished Pidge against becoming a loan shark.
Things had come to a head when Keith and Lance were near blows over whom got the razzledazzleberry farm. Shiro had tried refereeing the confrontation, but he ultimately did take Lance's side. Which had made Lance preen and Keith glower at him as viciously if mentally-attempting to melt him.
"Paladins, you're taking this much too far," snapped Allura, irritably throwing down her money. "You ought to be ashamed of being so immature. And Keith is right, Lance—the property is his now."
Hunk wished he'd had the sense to watch from the safety of a pillow fort, because if the scene hadn't been ugly beforehand, it had been become as monstrously-malformed as a perverse sinner being punished by a vengeful god.
Lance had literally doubled over whimpering at Allura's words, and Keith's accompanying smugness radiated like coals.
Shiro frowned and Hunk wished he had popcorn. He settled for gnawing on his nails as Shiro frowned. "Look, it's not like Keith doesn't already have more properties than Lance. Let him have it."
"Yeah." If Lance were a stray puppy Hunk thought there would riots in the street over whom got to take him home. "Let him have it."
"Lance."
Hunk thought with some amusement that however once Allura had resented Keith for being part-Galran, they were now sporting near-identical scowls. "That's not how the game works, you two. And Shiro, I'm surprised that the leader of Voltron isn't adhering to rules. You really ought to be the better role model."
Silence. You could slice the tension in the room and eat it. Keith and Lance actually stopped tugging on each other's hair to gawk at them; Pidge looked equally shocked and impressed. "Oh, snap. You gonna take that, Shiro?"
Shiro smiled and Hunk shivered.
Not a second later Shiro and Allura were standing near nose-to-nose arguing, hands on their hips. Shiro icily suggested that Lance and Keith naturally ought to heed his advice as the head of Voltron, which clearly didn't sit well with Allura. She actually stomped her foot and snapped, "I hate to bring in my higher-authority as a princess, but now you're leaving me no choice. Keith gets razzledazzleberry farm, and that's the end of it!"
Shiro's dark eyes narrowed. "Well, someone whom is getting this heated over a game isn't doing a very good job of playing a 'higher-authority,'" he growled, and Allura bristled. Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk's heads rapidly turned back and forth as if observing a hardcore volleyball match. Shiro gestured angrily to Pidge. "You're supposed to set a positive example for Pidge as a woman, Allura, and now you're teaching her injustice is okay, as long as you're not on the receiving end of the stick!"
"You want to talk positive examples?"said Allura incredulously. Keith uneasily shifted the board away before Allura could throw it. "You're teaching everyone that it's fine to cheat the system, and ignore the rules that are there for a reason!" Suddenly she rounded on Hunk, whom held up shaking hands as if Allura's pointed finger was Lance's sniper. "What if poor Hunk runs away and becomes one of those dreadful Mongolians you told me about? He'll be a space Mongolian, which is three times as bad as a regular Mongolian! He'll pillage, loot, and commit arson, and it will all because of the entitlement syndrome you taught him!"
"You want to talk entitlement? Consider someone being born into a position they never earned! There's your entitlement!"
At that point, Hunk thought the safest option was to cower behind the sofa. Lance watched the scene with a mouth so dropped it could comfortably accommodate a fist. As Hunk peeped cautiously through the hands over his eyes at the scene, he wondered how Keith, whom so readily attacked enemy soldiers without a single concern for his own safety, could look so utterly terrified.
Shiro furiously whirred to face Lance and Keith. "Boys, I want you to move your rooms closer to mine. I can't stress how little you need to think your position as paladins gives you the right to act like tyrannical despots."
"You want them moving closer to each other?! I think I'm re-thinking my position on your sanity."
"I just meant closer to my room! They don't actually need to change their proximity to each other! And Pidge?" Shiro gave her his fondest, most winning smile, and she slowly slunk behind her splayed money fan. Hunk thought excrement hit it just the same. "If you need someone to talk to at night—" Pidge looked like she'd give all her toy money to die then and there. "—you can move closer to my room. I'm always here for you, kiddo. Promise."
"Pidge, you don't want that," Allura spat.
"Don't tell her what she does and doesn't want! What kind of feminist are you?"
"But I already know Pidge wants to move closer to my room," Allura said firmly, and then she knelt beside Pidge, eyes sparkling. "Just between us girls, we can have slumber parties every night!"
"We live in the same ship," Pidge pointed out wearily.
"Who cares? The point is that you don't need some hypocritical man to get you down."
"Hypocritical?! Pidge, you'll want to be closer to Keith and Lance, right? You'd be lonely with just Allura for company."
"Just Allura?! Pidge, I have a number of gowns and jewels. You can try on as many as you want!"
"You two aren't exactly the same size," Shiro protested. "And you don't have the same tastes. Or have you forgotten that about her despite the fact she's literally right next to you?"
"Keith, you'll never learn how to become a new head of Voltron if you keep listening to this nonsense! You'll have to move closer to my room."
"Right! Because if something happens to me, we wouldn't want the new head of Voltron to have been instructed by the old head; that'd make too much sense! Keith, at this point I think you and I should get bunk beds. It'll be fun, like camping!"
Keith looked at the ceiling as if praying for deliverance.
Question: Do we get a say in this?" asked Lance weakly, raising his hand.
"No," said Allura firmly. Suddenly she batted her eyelashes, and Lance gulped. "Lance, I—"
"Over my dead body," interrupted Shiro, placing a hand on Lance's shoulder. Lance looked clearly torn between disappointment and gratitude.
"Perhaps it will be," Allura retorted. "Now Hunk, I don't want to pressure you either way—"
"Oh, quiznak no, so help me God—" Snarled Shiro.
"—but moving closer to my room means that you'd be closer to the kitchen. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Pidge, Hunk, I respect your decision either way, but keep in mind that I've always had your best interests at heart."
"And I haven't?"
"No, considering you send them both on dangerous, near-suicidal missions on a regular basis! I'm the one whom protects them in those scenarios!"
Suddenly Hunk jolted as he felt mustache bristles prickle his ear. "Shhhhhh!"
He looked up to see Coran on his knees, index finger against his lips as Allura and Shiro continued shrieking at each other. Pidge muttered, "Mommy, Daddy, it makes me sad when you fight."
"This is why we can't have nice things," agreed Lance. He started putting away the game pieces, but landed his blue character atop Razzledazzlefarm, neatly sliding away Keith's red piece. He yelped when Keith seized his hand, and the two immediately started wrestling.
"Hunk—" Coran whispered, drawing a line over his throat, wagging his middle and index fingers back and forth, nodding towards the direction of the door, and winking at him. Hunk stared blankly back, at a loss. Coran sighed.
I think it's time we take our leave?"
"I guess," Hunk said, watching in bemusement as Coran crawled for the door. He gestured impatiently at Hunk, whom slowly knelt and followed without having a single clue as to why.
With Coran, Hunk believed sometimes it was better not to ask questions you'd rather not hear the answers to.
o-O-o
"I've done it!" Coran crowed as they crawled down the hallway. "My subterfuge was a complete success!"
"Subterfuge?" Hunk repeated, aghast. "What in the world do you mean?"
Coran let out a long huff, shaking his head. "I mean my plan to have you slip away unnoticed was a complete success! You're welcome, by the way."
"…wait," Hunk slowly replied, the dawning horror breaking over him. He never pegged Coran as a sadist. "You knew that game would be that catastrophic?"
"Honestly I was expecting worse, considering it's you people," said Coran cheerfully, at last standing with a grunt and helping Hunk to his feet. "Altaens have legally separated over rounds of this game, you know."
"You risked tearing this family apart just so that I could leave the castle unnoticed?!"
"Shhhh!" Coran hissed, throwing a wary look down the hall. "That's only a little true; they'll get over it. Probably. Look, you said yourself your happy heart day or whatever it is was coming up—"
"It's Valentine's Day," Hunk corrected him with a sigh. The base of his head hurt as badly as if someone were determinedly driving a railroad spike through it.
"—well, we're within range of the Balmera now. By tomorrow we'll have moved thousands and thousands of miles away to visit potential-recruits for the Resistance. But you can go woo your lady friend for an hour this evening."
"She is not my—" Hunk protested, and then sheepishly tucked a hand behind his head. He didn't know where to look. "—I'm not ashamed of Shay, I swear, I just—the others tease a lot." His brow furrowed. "Although lately they've gotten kind of weird about when I bring her up…"
"Say no more," said Coran sagely, striding away to the main deck. "I understand. Don't worry! If the others ask where you are, we never had this conversation. In fact, I don't even know who you are." He turned around and his face was so intently-serious Hunk had no idea whether or not to laugh. "I'll refuse to say anything under penalty of torture or death. And I've come up with nifty codenames for each other in case we need to communicate. In fact, I've developed a handy secret code for just the occasion!"
"….I think we're good, man. But thanks anyway."
o-O-o
Only two weeks prior, Hunk had given a speech in front of the parliament of Adventlent, a loose federation of planets that save for having a few Galran outposts had thus far remained neutral in the war. Giving speeches was the sort of duty came with being the Ambassador of the Resistance—the title was so grandiose, it still flustered Hunk—and he was asked to state the Resistance's case in front of a more-than skeptical government.
He'd died a hundred deaths (give or take) before he even stumbled in front of the court. This was really more of Allura's thing and he'd tried telling her so, but she just cheerfully slapped him on the shoulder and the rest of Voltron more or less dog-piled on him. They told him he was the perfect choice, which made as much sense to Hunk as if they insisted he were the perfect candidate to juggle flaming chainsaws. There was no context for such an idea, and it was just as dangerous.
Every speech Hunk had written the night before came out wrong; his room had been littered with pages and he'd felt so much anxiety wringing his stomach he'd actually been turned off his food of all things. Were it not for Shiro's steady, sure hand at his back as they headed into the capital building, and his parting words—You were born to do amazing things, and I see this in you every day—Hunk didn't think he could manage to sputter out a few words before requiring a medic.
With the world boring down on him as he approached the platform he'd turned hot with fear, but to his great surprise he heard himself speak. And his voice did not come out in a whisper—his voice had transfigured into something that boomed off the walls. And he did not tremor, save for emotion towards the end.
He vaguely remembered saying that if one life were being persecuted so was the universe entire, blah-blah-blah-blah, and how they did have a genuine chance of rising up against Zarkon if they all came together in unity, blah-blah-blah-blah, and if the universe remained inured to being enslaved, their chains were partly of their own making. When he drew breath the room had exploded in applause, and he watched, awed, as even parliament smiled their approval.
Glancing at the bench and seeing Voltron beaming at him—Shiro's proud smile—had made him physically woozy, but so bursting with happiness he could sing.
That being said, the reception afterward in the ballroom was actually a bit more nerve-wracking.
Lots of people draped in medals and badges shook hands with him, wanted photograms taken with him even. Hunk vigorously shook their hands until his own hurt. "No, thank you," he said breathlessly when aliens bowed their heads to him.
He was even less prepared for when a parade of admirers fluttered about him bright, cooing and trilling little birds. Some of them even asked Hunk to flex his muscles and he shyly complied, though he had colored and largely addressed his feet whilst talking. He wasn't actually certain how much he really enjoyed being flirted with—at, more like—and wished Yellow was closer nearby to emerge himself in, literally and metaphorically.
Lance's attractive-person radar (which Hunk conservatively-estimated had a radius some several thousand miles) had gone off and he materialized out of the crowd to Hunk's side. He gleefully fired his signature finger guns, and Hunk largely zoned out at that point in time, relieved when Lance (for the umpteenth time) recounted how he had used his sharpshooter-skills to rescue a prisoner named Slav to a giggly audience.
While Lance was positively glowing at the attention, Hunk remained largely silent, and the word zinc strangely came to mind. Yes, these people were ultimately zinc at their core. Hunk knew that was unkind, but as his grandmother said, Truth is when your mind and gut are in the same place.
He swirled the contents in his glass (not actually a huge fan of mirthwater; it made him dizzy) and he knew these girls were much less interested in Lance and Hunk the Persons as they were in Lance and Hunk the Paladins. And something about their overly-glossy makeup and airs seemed sort of…
Like zinc.
It was, Hunk acknowledged, a cheap analogy, but while you could alter zinc into any shape or color you liked, these things all wore away eventually. And anyone who ever wore the cheap metal for too long knew it wore away at you. Paint zinc all you liked; it didn't compare to actual gold.
He actually felt secondhand embarrassment for these girls. Certainly not because he thought he was better them; far, far from it, but if they only knew….
Thankfully he spotted a passing waiter with h'oeuvres and positively squeaked before hurrying after him. Still, even as Hunk made it his mission to stalk every waiter in the enormous room, the word gold stayed with him. Turned into the image golden eyes looking at him from across the ballroom floor, and all the groupies positively wilting in response to encountering the equivalent of a living gem.
o-O-o
Hunk slowly descended from Yellow onto the Balmeran surface. The planet was still tired, worn and dry—centuries of mistreatment could hardly be undone in a few months—but the restored crystals poking out of the earth sparkled like promise. He immediately felt fondness wash over him when he remembered the Balmeran engulfing the murderous abomination Haggar had sent Voltron via-Express mail. Few things were so nice as beings whom ate your troubles for you.
He found himself stooping on one knee, as if in homage. His gloved hand touched the surface, so scarred and yet still alive; he thought he imagined the Balmeran pulsing back against his palm. His admiration was unmistakable—after all, this planet survived for so long despite having its heart broken on a daily basis.
Take care of the world and it will take care of you, his grandfather had said as they looked over their tiny triumph of a garden. At least the Balmera was now underneath the care of the healing hands of those whom loved it most.
Feeling foolish, Hunk nonetheless closed his eyes and quietly imagined his energy flow pouring from his fingertips into the jeweled ground.
It must've worked, because a few seconds later he felt light-headed and dizzy. Reminiscent to giving blood. He plopped to a sitting position and gently waved away Yellow's concern, taking a moment to admire the sky.
His hands still rested against the surface, and he thought he felt a reciprocal wave of gratitude swirl in his consciousness, one that didn't seem to be emitted from his bond with Yellow.
The Balmera wanted to know what size crystal Hunk wanted in exchange, and a tip of one emerged from the surface like a sprout. Hunk just patted the ground and shakily rose again. Let it be, and let it grow.
For so long the Balmaren gave, and gave, and gave, for nothing but misery in turn. When Hunk gave to his Space Family—and that's what they were, even if they threatened to kill each other on a near-daily basis—it always felt as if he were getting the much better bargain out of the deal. To be surrounded with so much talent and color and liveliness made him grateful in a way that he couldn't quite express sans preparing them food. He hoped it didn't come off as disinterest, but in times when Hunk sat back and simply watched whatever brand of insanity was going down in that moment, he felt more than content to feel privileged, and to revel in being alive.
No, the Balmeran owed him nothing in turn. Not when it was the home and heartbeat of someone whom Hunk was fairly certain the world begun and ended with.
Speaking of which….
He felt Yellow mentally prod him and he curiously looked up. On the horizon. A dark figure—many figures—were making their way towards them both. He shaded his eyes and squinted, watching as one of the shapes broke ahead of the others in a run.
A second later he heard a call, voice dim but unmistakable, and he sprinted ahead with all the speed he had running away from a ticking Galran bomb. And then some.
"Hunk!"
"Shay!"
o-O-o
They all but crashed into each other. He was going to have bruises.
Paladin armor aside, Shay was quite literally made of stone and she twirled him off his feet before clutching him against her chest. Hunk's own chest burned for air, but he blissfully closed his eyes.
Yeah. Bruises weren't bad.
In fact, they were fine.
Shay seemed to remember herself, because with an "Oh!" she hurriedly set Hunk back down. She still leaned forward to beam at him, and he tipsily followed suit, because Shay. Because Shay.
"Welcome, Yellow Paladin." Said Shay's grandmother in her gravelly voice as she stepped forward. "It's good to see you once again."
Hunk bowed politely to her again. "And you. I'm always happy to see you." The word came out accentuated when he hadn't meant it to. "We were in the vicinity, and, uh, well, I promised I'd come see you again when I got the chance." He was still largely addressing Shay. "Especially for the holiday."
"Holiday?" Shay asked, tipping her head.
Oh. Shay didn't actually know what Valentine's Day was. He'd actually have to explain it. Oh God.
"Um." He began, kicking himself. "It's, uh." Give a moving speech that convinces a resistant government to join a foolhardy revolution against an intergalactic empire against space Nazis, fine. Explain just why he wanted to see Shay on this holiday, (all the holidays) well, maybe the Balmera would take pity on him and eat him. "You…visit with….people….you, uh, like and….think well of. Yeah." Maybe Shay would be gracious enough to just step on him for his stupidity. All he'd likely say to her was "Kay, thanks."
Shay looked overjoyed; her grandmother's eyes fixated on the small bag at Hunk's hip that was tied neatly with a bow. Her brow quipped mischievously.
"Well, we'll leave you to your visit." She sighed, turning away again. She patted Shay's hand, and the rest of the family slowly followed her lead as she walked off. She gave Shay's motionless brother a cane-tap to the side as she passed, and he scowled before his eyes widened with understanding. He faltered, obviously a little hesitant, but he obeyed, casting Hunk a warning look over his shoulder.
Hunk sheepishly turned to Shay again. "I don't have long." He apologized, timidly holding out his hand and thrilling when Shay took it.
"But I do have something for you." A playful laugh. "Come with me?"
o-O-o
"He's beautiful," Shay breathed.
"Totally," said Hunk proudly as they came to a stop in front of Yellow, whom was positively glinting underneath the sunset rays.
"How do you two communicate?"
"Well, um—" He waved his hand as he tried to explain. "We sort of have a mental link between us." He gave one of Yellow's paws an affectionate pat. "At this point our bond is such that we're sort of a part of each other." He shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes I literally forget where he and I begin."
"That's amazing."
His hands slowly curled into shaking fists as he tried steadying himself. Now or never.
"I asked Yellow for a favor." She cocked her head again curiously. "And he's completely okay with it." He traced his foot in the dust. "Do you want to talk with each other?"
Shay's eyes widened. She didn't breathe. Then, very slowly, as if he were a bird she worried about scaring, she approached Hunk, looking awestruck.
"Hunk," she asked softly, and Hunk wondered if Lance had this debilitating wave of dizziness whenever he encountered attractive people. It would explain a lot. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah." His voice came out quieter than he meant it to, but it came with a smile. As well as an anxious pang in his abdomen; only now did he realize Shay might honestly be uncomfortable with being presented with something so personal.
Abashed, he mentally added, "You don't have to on my account, I—I just—"
Her gold eyes held his, and he fell silent.
"No…I want to."
She slowly reached out for his hand. He took hers in both of his, and (Lance would never let him live it down if he knew) kissed it. Her cheeks darkened immediately, but she allowed the gesture.
"…what do I do?"
"Just close your eyes, and sort of…reach out. Sort of like talking to the Balmara."
Shay looked up at the enormous golden lion and swallowed. Hunk thought with benign amusement that this was a girl whom could break a man's ribs with a light kick and yet was so uncertain now. She closed her eyes, and Hunk followed suit.
o-O-o
Yellow was waiting for them.
He loomed over them both like the sun, an ancient consciousness that was old when the world was new, so much huger than its actual lion's body. And the luminosity was such a firestorm of light Hunk wondered if Yellow were actually shielding him from being blinded by it.
Hunk's consciousness rose to meet (there was no other word for it) his other half. The two affectionately bumped into each other—the equivalent of a nuzzle or a fist-pump, Hunk supposed—seeping into each other like compatible watercolors. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like clutching dark, warm soil that smelled like rain and so much promise.
Something (someone) new in the connection remained deathly still, and he could vaguely feel a wonder that wasn't quite his own slowly blooming. Hunk felt a testing, feather-light brush against his thoughts. The effect in him was as if harp strings had been strummed.
Hunk softly pressed back, thrilling when Shay's presence sparkled, iridescent with color like soap bubbles. It shone like surface of the Balmera; something beautiful and miraculous and alive.
The two could feel Yellow watching, and Hunk thought he could feel the lion smiling as it greeted Shay, whom flustered immediately.
From quite a distance away Hunk felt his ears burn as Yellow playfully nudged their minds closer together—Yellow was going to hear about this one later—and then wrapped around the two tenderly and tightly; the strangest and nicest of hugs. And to Hunk's relief he could feel that Shay was happy, a profound sense of contentment and rightfulness stealing over him. He wondered if in this state of complete openness Shay could understand the feeling Hunk was, as of right now, too shy to say.
o-O-o
When they returned to themselves, Shay looked positively dazed.
"That was…" She squeezed her hands, visibly struggling for a moment. "Beautiful. You and Yellow are beautiful."
Hunk Garret didn't trust himself to speak for a long moment. Beautiful. Hadn't gotten that one before.
"Um." His voice cracked as if he were again in sixth grade. "…thanks."
"I mean it."
She stepped closer and Hunk's mouth went as arid. But then he jumped, hand flying to his belt. "Oh!" He extracted the small bag with some difficulty, as his fingers were shaking. He thrust the bag toward Shay, shoulders squared. "This is for you."
Shay lit up like a star. "Thank you so much!"
She seized the bag and pressed it against her cheek; Hunk couldn't help but laugh again.
"You can open it now, if you like."
Shay looked stunned.
"Open it?"
She curiously shook it up and down.
"You mean there is something inside?"
"Yeah. Go ahead."
She very carefully undid the ribbon, and parted the small satchel to reveal cookies. Hunk rocked back and forth on his feet.
It was a long time deciding what sort of dessert he'd prepare for Shay. He found rivviki was a wonderful coconut equivalent and it might be nice to share something from his homeland in Samoa. But that hadn't seemed right, thought it was a gentle and clean taste, which would've suited Shay well-enough. But well-enough just wasn't good enough.
"Oh. These are…"
"Let me know how they are."
He could definitely feel himself sweating now. In the end, the caramel he'd managed to make here was a warm flavor. Particularly when accompanied by sumptuous floral honey recovered from murderous space bees with stingers the size of spears. And qiokio, a sweetener like brown sugar, and just as gritty. Shay tried one, and to Hunk's relief she looked positively radiant.
"That is…" Shay literally clasped her hands against her chest. "The most wonderful thing I've ever had."
"That's what a budding chef likes to hear."
Shay beamed, but a second later her face slowly crumbled.
"Oh." She suddenly sounded so sad Hunk blankly wondered if she'd be so kind as to direct him to the nearest cliff and help him over. "Your Valentine's Day is such a wonderful, wonderful custom. But I had no idea. I wish I had something for you.
"Wait," she added suddenly, fumbling in her own satchel. "Yes. Here it is."
She took Hunk's hands in hers, and carefully slid something cool in one. Hunk uncurled his hand to find a speckled, turquoise-colored stone.
"This stone comes from a cavern deep within the Balmera. It's one of the few secrets my people managed to keep from the Galra, else there's not a doubt in my mind they would've stripped it of all its worth."
"This cavern is known as the Castle of Fire and Stars. We call it that because when you light a lantern upon going inside…" Shay shivered and Hunk had the fleeting image of sunlight beaming through stained glass cathedral windows. "It's a blaze of color. It was the closest thing I ever had to a sunrise growing up."
Hunk smiled wistfully before gesturing at the setting sun. "I'm so happy you get to see the real thing now."
"When Balmeran parents have a child, they venture into the cavern—it's a bit of a journey—and retrieve a stone from a wall. Then the stone is given to the newborn. This is my stone. Yours now."
Hunk wondered at the spots looming in and out of his eyes before he realized he'd stopped breathing again. This was quite literally Shay's birthstone. "Shay." If he said her name a thousand times it was a thousand times not enough. "I can't take this."
"Keep it," Shay urged, closing his hands around the stone again. "You're actually meant to give your stone away to someone, whom, uh—you…"
"You what?"
"You know….think well of. It's a way of saying that a part of you is already home with them."
Utterly overwhelmed, Hunk bowed his head. Yellow was crowing somewhere in the back of his mind. "This is…" He gulped, and then smiled a bit once again. "Shay. This is….probably the most wonderful gift I've ever received. Thank you." He clutched the stone to his chest.
"Oh. Um, well." Shay tucked her hands behind her back and looked away. "You're very welcome. I just wish I could do more for you."
"You do more than enough," Hunk said cheerfully, grinning when Shay gave him a surprised look. "Listen to me when I say you're a gift to the universe. You make it a lovelier place."
Now it was Shay's turn to be at a loss for words, though she flushed. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
"Thank you." The corner of her mouth twitched. "I bet you say that to all the pretty girls you meet on your journey."
"Nah. Just the pretty girl."
Shay's breath caught sharply as Hunk drew nearer, his face burning profusely. Shay was flushed too, and upon looking at her large yellow eyes fixed on his own, Hunk thought that he could kiss her.
So he did.
Her eyes lidded and Hunk's closed, savoring the feel of warm, firm lips that nonetheless touched him so gently. The two drew back briefly, and then one more kiss led to another. They were light and sweet like summer rain or daisies.
He cupped her cheek. If ever he needed an incentive to defeat Zarkon, it was in the form of this impossibly-beautiful girl whom was kind (or insane) enough to think well of him. That made Hunk shiver just a bit, because while he didn't want to fluff his own feathers, Shay's affection made him Kind of a Big Deal.
But they startled apart when Coran's voice sounded in his ears from his transmitter. It was a definite effort for Hunk to not pout; how nice it would be if people had earlids too. "I need to go," he said reluctantly, and he was relieved that while Shay looked crestfallen, she did have a definite air of understanding. "I promise you I'll take care of this stone." He carefully held it up between his thumb and index finger, watching it sparkle like salt beneath an arctic sun. "Since you don't have one anymore, I promise I'll bring you a replacement one soon. The best I can find."
"I would like that." Her words undermined her eyes. "Be safe."
She kissed him on the cheek and Hunk turned away while he still could bring himself to. He goofily tottered back to Yellow, humming.
As he boarded, he turned and waved, and Shay waved back, the remainder of her present cradled in one arm. "Happy Valentine's Day, Hunk!"
"Happy Valentine's!" He called back before he disappeared inside his lion. There was definitely a spring in his step as he reached the cockpit, and he burst out laughing when Yellow shared an image of the two fist-paw pumping. Yes. It had been a good evening. Save for Allura and Shiro hashing out custody disputes, a very good evening.
He continued waving to Shay until she was a pinprick on the planet surface, and he flopped back against his seat with a contented sigh. Thankfully Yellow seemed to be operating on autopilot, which gave Hunk the opportunity to turn the little stone over in his hands as tenderly if handling a robin's egg.
He'd have to find something magnificent in return; it was only right. Unfortunately Hunk couldn't customize or cultivate gems the way he might food, but in a sea of thousands of planets he hadn't even scratched the surface on, there had to be something suitable. Then again, maybe he ought to go deep within the Castle of Fire and Stars himself; it seemed like a sort of test of devotion.
I think she would like something that came from your home planet more than anything else.
Hunk good-naturedly swatted at the control panel and burst out laughing, feeling Yellow's sly nudge-nudge, wink-wink.
Back home in Samoa, it was custom for the bride-to-be's in-laws to provide a ring or dress. Giving family heirlooms was considered particularly lucky.
And Hunk was soon transported thousands of light-years away to his room, wherein he stood on a wobbly chair to reach the wooden box on the top of his closet shelf. He opened it a crack, inhaling the perfume Hunk would spend years searching for at department stores with no success. Sometimes he would just hold the sandalwood box to his chest without opening it.
He was afraid the scents would eventually disappear if he manhandled the box too often, but the glint of the diamond was always waiting for him when he peeked inside, along with his grandmother's last note written in her spidery script. A lump rose to Hunk's throat.
I'm sorry.
Yellow's contrition washed over him and Hunk patted him again, not angry in the least. He conceded it would do well for them both to remember that survival was their main priority right now—and rescuing the universe from a despotic tyrant was admittedly kind of a pressing matter.
Still, even if returning to Samoa was certainly not in the books anytime soon, even if in Hunk's heart of hearts he understood there was a strong possibility he might never see home again, he imagined offering his treasure to the only person he could imagine worth giving it to. (Never mind that the ring wouldn't actually fit on her finger; you could alter a ring. Shay was perfect as she was, and needed no such thing.)
If singing were an emotion, Hunk was experiencing it. A second later, Coran's voice sounded in his ear again.
"Hello, Hunk? You might want to return to the castle ASAP; Allura noticed you were gone and that you might've had your heart set on becoming a hardened Mongolian after all. Shiro's probably going to start hitting the mirthwater soon if he thinks he somehow drove you to a life of crime."
Life is fine, Hunk thought as Yellow honed in towards the castle. Tomorrow it would be time to prepare Valentine's Day breakfast—the equivalent of French toast with berries. Preferably heart-shaped. Then it would be time to watch Shiro try to prevent Pidge from overdosing on caffeine whilst Keith and Lance ferociously dueled with cutlery. And that would be in the morning, before they disembarked on some freakish planet with mortality possibilities Slav conservatively estimated at about thirty percent.
He chuckled and shook his head, more out of fondness than anything else. With a surge of affection for the universe entire he gunned the accelerator.
Life is fine.
Better than wine.
Life is fine.