"Hey, Shiro? Hold up, a second?"

Keith caught up with Shiro, Pidge and Allura on their way out of the massive hangar that housed the Atlas. The room was buzzing with activity, but Keith could sense the stillness of the ship, the eerie silence of a powerful thing deprived of its purpose.

"Hey, Keith." Shiro spared him a strained smile. He told Pidge and Allura to go on without him, then turned his attention to Keith, maintaining eye contact in a way that let Keith know he was really listening.

He made a mental note. He'd always known that Shiro was a talented leader, but he hadn't always paid attention to the particular qualities that made him one. Not until recently, anyway. Not until he'd started worrying about trying to become one, himself.

"I'm worried about Hunk," Keith told him. "That briefing was brutal. Lance and Pidge are coping because their families were here waiting for them, and… well, I don't think I've ever seen Hunk lose his cool, like that."

Shiro nodded. "What do you think we should do?"

"Well… I think someone should go talk to him."

"Mm. Yeah. Someone should."

They stared at each other for a moment before Keith caught his meaning.

"Me?"

Shiro raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"

Keith shook his head. "Bad idea. I wouldn't know what to say."

"You noticed he was upset. You know what's bothering him. I'm sure you can figure something out."

"But-"

"Keith." Shiro put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, applying the perfect amount of pressure. It had taken patience, practice, and trust on both sides, but eventually, Shiro had come to understand and navigate Keith's challenges with physical touch. "You're learning how to lead them in battle. You have to learn to lead them when they're grounded, too." He flashed him a smile. "I know you can do it. Just give it a try."

Keith gritted his teeth. Shiro always knew how to give him a mission, a goal to pursue. He didn't take no for an answer, and he didn't entertain any of Keith's doubts.

Keith just had to figure out how to measure up.

He found Hunk in a workshop down the hall, venting his frustration on a piece of equipment he couldn't readily identify. Hunk was obviously distressed, and Keith briefly considered making an excuse and ducking out of there – what good could he possibly do? – but he remembered what Shiro had said, and he resolved to give it his best effort.

"Look," he told Hunk, "I'm not really good at talking with people, and I don't expect you to open up to me, but if there's ever anything on your mind-"

He stopped, listening carefully as Hunk launched into a rant, venting his fears and frustrations. Keith had always thought of Hunk as an optimist – sometimes, to a fault – and he grew increasingly more concerned at the hopelessness he heard in Hunk's tone as he talked about his family, and about the loneliness he felt.

Keith knew what it was like to feel hopeless. And he was no stranger to desperate loneliness, either.

He thought about all the times Shiro had pulled him back from the brink. Shiro always knew what to say, always knew exactly what Keith needed to hear in order to keep moving forward.

He always knew how to give Keith a mission. Maybe Keith could give Hunk one, too.

"Look, Hunk," he said. "I never told you this, but of all the paladins, you're the one I'm most impressed by. It's no secret that you've always been the most scared, but… you've never backed down. Never. And to be brave is to go on in spite of fear, and that's who you are, Hunk."

Hunk was looking back at him, wide-eyed and attentive. This was good. He was on the right track.

"I know you're scared," he went on, "but your family… they need you to be strong, right now."

Hunk looked down at the floor, and Keith felt a pang. Was it too much? Too blunt? Too personal? This was a terrible idea, he had no idea how to comfort someone-

His musings were cut short when Hunk threw his arms around him and hugged him tight.

He felt his limbs go momentarily rigid, his typical response to being touched without warning. But then he felt himself relax, felt an involuntary smile spread across his face. The pressure was good: just the right amount, firm and calming and-

And then it was gone, and the loss of it was more grating than the initial shock of it had been.

Hunk was walking away from him.

"Where are you going?"

Hunk gave him a determined look.

"I'm going to get my family."

Keith smiled. They both had a mission, now.

"Not without me."

"Keith?"

"Yeah, man?"

Keith had been about to swipe himself into his quarters back at the Garrison barracks, but he paused to take in the serious expression on Hunk's face.

"I guess it was pretty risky, going to see my family, like that."

Keith nodded.

"Worth it though, right? Now we know where they are. We know they're okay."

"Well, yeah, but I meant… why did you come along? You didn't need to do that. We could've gotten in so much trouble…"

Keith scrambled for an answer to the question he'd been asking himself all night.

"Well… you're my friend. I was worried about you, and… I mean, I want to save them, too."

Keith's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. Hunk's lower lip was trembling, like he was about to cry again, and Keith wasn't remotely prepared to cope with that scenario.

"Besides," he went on, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer territory, "the last time they threw me out of this place, I got promoted to Paladin of Voltron. I doubt they'll try it again anytime soo- hngh-"

Every cubic centimeter of breath rushed out of his lungs as Hunk caught him in a crushing hug. He dug the heel of his hand into Hunk's shoulder – too much too much too much – and Hunk loosened his hold, though he didn't let go.

"Sorry, man. Too tight?"

"Yeah."

"Is this better?"

Keith battled his flight response, forcing himself to examine the sensation objectively. It was something he'd practiced with Shiro and, eventually, a therapist, once he'd grown tired of flinching every time someone laid a hand on his arm or tried to shake his hand.

It was better. Hunk had stumbled onto the perfect amount of pressure, almost effortlessly. Keith felt his anxiety level plummet, felt himself leaning against Hunk's chest, felt his arms sliding around Hunk's shoulders of their own accord.

"Yeah. It's… better."

Hunk's chin was resting on his shoulder.

"Thanks for coming with me."

"Sure, man."

Keith let his chin rest on Hunk's shoulder, too.

The moment stretched.

"I guess we should get some sleep," Keith said. He didn't let go.

"I wish. I can't imagine sleeping right now. I'll probably watch a movie, or something." Hunk loosened his hold and stepped away. There was a faint blush in his cheeks.

"Uhm. A movie?"

"Yeah. Pidge recovered all our files from… from before. Lance and I had a huge media library, back when we were roommates."

"Oh. Okay. I guess Lance will want to watch, too, right?"

"Nah. He's with his family, still."

"Oh. Right."

Hunk raised a hand to the back of his neck. "Yeah. So… I'll be across the hall. I mean, if you can't sleep, and you want to, like, hang, or something."

"Oh… okay. Uhm. Thanks, Hunk."

"Sure." He hesitated, then said, "'Night, Keith."

"Night."

Keith watched him swipe into his quarters, watched the door slide shut behind him. He stared at it for almost a minute before he moved again.

Keith turned the conversation over in his mind while he showered, rinsing the dust of the ruined city from his skin. At first, he'd thought Hunk was just being characteristically friendly, inviting him to spend time together. But Lance and Pidge – his best friends, the people he relied on most – were busy spending time with their families, experiencing the reunions they'd been so desperately hoping for ever since they'd first been stranded on the other side of the universe. For tonight, at least, they were safe. They were home.

And Hunk's family may as well have been a galaxy away.

Keith dried himself off, taking care to rub a towel through his hair until all the excess water was gone; he didn't like the feeling of droplets falling onto his face and shoulders. He dressed in a clean set of black underclothes: a close-fitting, high-necked, long-sleeved shirt and slim-fitting leggings. Even though they were technically part of his paladin armor, he preferred them to any of the other clothes he owned. The material was soft and smooth, the fit snug and satisfying, tight enough to banish the itchy, creepy-crawly sensation he experienced when he wore the wrong kind of clothes.

He sat down on his bunk, where Kosmo was curled into a ball, fast asleep. He ran his fingers through the wolf's sleek, silky fur for a moment, thinking.

Then he snapped his communicator back onto his wrist, left his quarters, and knocked on Hunk's door.

"Keith?" Hunk looked confused, and a little concerned. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I…" Keith shrugged a little. "I couldn't sleep, either."

Hunk broke into a sunny grin; it was a relief to see, after everything he'd been through in the last twenty-four hours.

"Sweet! You hungry?"

"Uh… yeah, I could eat."

Hunk stood to the side to let him pass. His quarters were practically empty, like all of theirs were. They'd only brought the bare essentials with them from their lions; none of the personal belongings that might've made these rooms feel like home. And what would've been the point? They were temporary, anyway.

Just like everything else.

"I was making space burritos!" Hunk said, with much of his typical enthusiasm. Space burritos was code for whatever ingredients I can find, wrapped in bread. "You can have this one, if you want." He gestured to the finished wrap on the small table in the corner of the room.

"Thanks, man." Keith walked toward the table, but Hunk stopped him, taking hold of his forearm.

"Shit, hang on, I forgot-"

Keith twisted out of his hold, knocking his hand away with a sharp elbow.

"Ah-"

Hunk took a small step away from him, holding up his hands. Keith cringed.

"Shit, Hunk, sorry… I didn't mean-"

"It's okay!" Hunk looked flustered, apologetic. "I… uhm… I forgot I already put sauce on that one. You like yours on the side, right?"

"I… yeah. I do."

"No worries, man. I'll make another one." Hunk avoided his gaze and moved to the table. "My library's up on the viewscreen, if you want to look through it."

Keith felt the back of his teeth grind together. Why was Hunk always so incessantly nice? It was grating, at times like this, when Keith didn't feel like he deserved it.

He swallowed the angry notion, converting it to a quiet sigh, then turned toward the viewscreen in the wall and started tapping through a series of folders. He wasn't actually looking at the files, though. He was trying to figure out what to say.

"I… I have a thing," he blurted.

Hunk didn't look up from the ingredients he was arranging on top of the circular, grain-based wrapper that vaguely resembled a tortilla.

"Huh?"

"I have a thing," Keith repeated, with emphasis. "When you grabbed my arm, I-"

"I know," Hunk said, looking at him, now. "You don't like to be touched, right? I'm really sorry, man. I suck at remembering that kind of thing. I'll work on it."

Keith shook his head. "No, you don't need to do that. And it's not really like that, anyway. I don't mind being touched, as long as it's…"

He made an inarticulate gesture. Hunk raised an eyebrow. Keith let out a small, frustrated groan.

"It's complicated."

Hunk shrugged a little.

"Sounds like a sensory processing disorder."

Keith blinked.

"Yeah, it… how did you know that?"

"My cousin. He has a hard time with bright lights, loud noises, certain foods. He hates being touched by strangers, too. So… want to tell me about it?"

Keith chewed the inside of his cheek.

"I don't like to be caught off guard. It makes me impulsive. I end up doing things I regret."

Hunk nodded. "Fair enough."

"But sometimes… like when you hugged me, earlier… if the pressure is just right, it's… tolerable."

"Tolerable?"

Keith narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Tolerable."

Hunk went back to prepping the burrito, shifting his gaze downward, again. "So you don't mind being touched, as long as it's in the right way."

"And in the right place."

"And by the right person?"

Hunk was still decidedly staring down at the table, which was a blessing, because Keith could feel the heat of a blush in his cheeks.

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"Okay. Sounds simple enough, to me."

Keith exhaled a bitter laugh. "Does it?"

"Sure. I won't grab you unless I know you want me to. Easy-peasy."

Keith felt a tug behind his navel.

Unless he knows I want him to?

"Don't worry, man. No sauce on the inside. I promise."

Hunk was standing in front of him, now. Keith stared at the burrito for a moment, processing, before he finally accepted the plate.

"Thank you. You really didn't have to do that."

Hunk tilted his head to one side.

"I'm feeling like you're used to letting people stomp all over your boundaries. It might not happen so often, if you just explained what they were."

Keith glared involuntarily.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it took you, like, thirty seconds to explain the whole sensory issue, and it took me, like, a minute to make you a new burrito, and, I mean, obviously this conversation is making you super uncomfortable, and that'll suck for like, a second, but… don't you think it's better that you told me?"

Keith's mouth fell open.

"I… I guess I don't want people to have to worry about it. About me."

"Dude. You're not an inconvenience. You're my friend."

Hunk turned to the panel and started tapping, while Keith stood there in a stunned silence, staring.

"I'm picking something animated," he said easily, as if they hadn't just been discussing one of the most private, personal aspects of Keith's life. "I can't deal with anything heavy right now. Does that work for you?"

"Uh." Keith cleared his throat. "Uh huh. Whatever you want."

Hunk set the movie to play, retrieved his own burrito from the table, and then sat down cross-legged at the end of his bunk, which was directly opposite the screen in the wall. Keith had been ready to drag one of the chairs from the table closer to the viewscreen, but Hunk had left him plenty of space to sit comfortably on the bed, leaving him with an uncomfortable dilemma.

He hated situations like this. It was one of the reasons he typically preferred to avoid socializing altogether. Did Hunk actually want him to sit on the bed, or had he just sat down where he was most comfortable? If Keith sat on the floor or the chair instead, would he be offended? Confused? Distracted? Would they have to talk about it? Keith felt that he was always misreading or overthinking everyone else's intentions, forever on the brink of embarrassing himself, or offending someone, or upsetting the delicate balance of mutual respect he'd struck with his teammates.

His friends.

He sat down on the opposite end of the bed.

"Have you seen this one?" Hunk asked, gesturing toward the screen, swallowing a bite of burrito.

"I think so. When I was a kid."

"I don't even know if it's any good, but it makes me laugh, anyway. Lance knows the words to all the songs from, like, every animated movie ever created, and he used to perform them, like, fake microphone, costumes, singing at the top of his lungs, the whole deal. We got written up for a noise violation, watching this one. I laughed so hard I thought I was gonna barf."

Keith let out a small laugh, glad to see Hunk slowly returning to his typical state of high-spirited chattiness. "I can picture it. Lance can be pretty funny, sometimes."

"He really can. I… uh… I'm glad you guys are getting along, these days. I think he is, too."

Keith nodded. "So am I."

They ate in silence for a while, watching the characters in the film swim around their animated ocean. Hunk stood up when he finished his burrito, took Keith's plate, and then retrieved two bottles of water from a crate in the corner. Keith accepted his gratefully, downing a quarter of it in a single swallow.

"So…" Hunk ventured, once he'd sat down on the opposite side of the bed, again. "Hugs are okay, sometimes?"

Keith fidgeted with the lid of the bottle.

"Uh. Yeah. Sometimes."

"Because it seemed like… well, I know my cousin likes deep pressure. Or, like, it helps, sometimes."

Keith didn't respond. He was surprised to find that he didn't mind the questions – it was actually a relief, to have the subject raised in such a casual way – but he was having trouble figuring out what to say.

"So… does it feel good anywhere else?"

Keith risked a glance in Hunk's direction. His eyes were locked on the screen.

"The pressure, I mean," Hunk clarified.

"Uhm. Shiro squeezes my shoulders, sometimes."

"So he knows?"

"Yeah. He's the one who helped me figure out why… why I was having so many… problems."

He could see Hunk nodding in his periphery.

"Okay. Hugs and shoulders. Anything else?"

"Uh. My hands, I guess. Sometimes I would skip our regular fighting drills and box, instead. Something about the impact. But then, they ache after, so…"

He stopped. He'd been rambling.

It wasn't a thing he was used to doing.

"Okay." He saw Hunk shift, a little. "Do you want to show me?"

"Huh?"

"I… I could put pressure on your hands, if you want." Hunk was staring at a spot on the floor, now. "If it would help, I mean. You did something really amazing for me today. I owe you one."

Keith could feel himself frowning in discomfort and confusion: discomfort, because Hunk had stumbled all the way inside his metaphorical stronghold of embarrassing personal information, and confusion, because he was seriously considering taking him up on the offer. He'd spent all night thinking about the way Hunk had hugged him – couldn't stop himself from thinking about it, in fact – and as much as he'd been genuinely concerned about Hunk's well-being, part of him knew he was in Hunk's quarters right now because he was hoping it would happen again.

It had been… tolerable.

"Okay," he said, his voice rough and grating to his own ears.

He set his water bottle aside, moved his left hand to the center of the bed, and let it rest there.

He stared at the viewscreen while Hunk moved closer to him, picked up his hand, and held it carefully between both of his own.

He winced.

"Light pressure like that feels… bad," he said.

Hunk let go.

"Okay. Uh. You might have to tell me what to do."

Keith swallowed. "When I was younger, Shiro would say, Too much or not enough? Like, until he got the pressure right. So… you can squeeze my fingers, and I'll tell you."

Hunk picked up his hand again, held it firmly at the wrist, and gave his fingers a tentative squeeze.

"Not enough."

The pressure increased.

"Just right."

Hunk nodded. "Easy enough. Just hold it, like this?"

Keith examined the sensation. Hunk's hands were huge, big enough to encircle all of his fingers, and then some.

The notion made him feel… something.

"Yeah. I'll tell you when to stop."

"Sure."

They lapsed into silence, again, staring at the screen, but Keith wasn't really paying attention to the movie. He was focused on the pressure encircling his fingers, tight enough that he could feel his pulse throbbing pleasantly there, but not tight enough to cause any true discomfort. He drew in a slow breath, and when he let it go, he felt some of the tension he'd accumulated that night leaving his body along with it. He found himself wishing the sensation would spread – wishing that he could feel it pressing against him from all sides…

He swallowed.

"Can you do the rest of my hand?"

He felt Hunk adjust his grip, so that his fingers were clasped over the entirety of the back of his hand.

Hunk squeezed.

"Too much or not enough?"

"Uh. Just right."

"Sick! Nailed it!"

Keith smiled at the screen, extending his mind to the new point of contact, enjoying the sensation of being…

Held?

"…your other hand?"

He looked at Hunk, blinking.

"Huh?"

"Do you want me to do the other one? For symmetry, or whatever?"

"Oh." Keith considered this. Hunk wouldn't be able to reach his other hand, from here. They would have to get closer to each other.

He didn't consider it for very long.

"Okay."

Hunk let go of his left hand. The loss of pressure grated on Keith's nerves – that, alone, would've convinced him to let Hunk hold the other one, if he hadn't already decided to – so he shifted a few inches to his left. He'd intended to move his right arm across his body, but Hunk had other plans. He got up from the bed and sat down on Keith's other side, and then he picked up Keith's hand and pulled it into his lap.

No hesitation. No fanfare.

Just contact. Just pressure.

"Too much or not enough?"

Keith licked his lips.

"Not enough."

"Damn. I thought I had it, that time." He squeezed. "Now?"

"Um. Just right."

"Okay. Second try's not bad, right?"

"No," Keith told the viewscreen. "It's not bad."

Hunk held the pressure steady – perfectly steady – until Keith told him to move on to the rest of his hand, and then he held that pressure steady, too, without any hint of awkwardness, or boredom, or impatience.

Keith started to wonder how long Hunk would hold on, if he never told him to stop.

"Can you hold hands with your fingers all interlocked?" Hunk asked. They'd been silent for so long that Keith flinched a little, pulled out of his pleasant, deep-pressure haze. Hunk didn't seem to notice, though. "Or does that bother you?" he was asking. "Having someone's fingers between your fingers, I mean."

"Uh. I don't know. I've never tried it."

Hunk's head snapped in his direction.

"You've never held someone's hand?"

"Not like that."

Hunk stared at him, his eyebrows drawn together, his mouth set in a gentle frown. Then he looked back at the screen, adjusted the position of his hand, and interlaced their fingers together.

Keith's skin started to crawl, from the spaces between his fingers, up to his wrist and forearm, then all the way to his shoulder… he pulled his hand away, shaking it, trying to rid himself of the sensation.

"Shit! Keith, I'm sorry, I thought maybe-"

"It's fine," Keith said, trying not to blush, knowing he was helpless to stop it. It was fine. He wasn't angry, he was just defective, held prisoner by his own involuntary responses, barred from the simplest, most mundane gestures of affection, none of which was Hunk's fault-

"I shouldn't have done that, though, I should've asked you-"

"No, Hunk, seriously-"

"Are you mad? Please don't be mad-"

He grabbed Hunk's hand and held on, scowling pointedly at the floor. They held onto each other awkwardly for a moment, their hands hovering in the air, in the small stretch of space between them, until Hunk slowly pulled Keith's hand into his lap, again.

Keith let him.

Hunk started to move his hand – back to its previous, more neutral position, Keith guessed – and Keith squeezed, stopping him.

"I can hold hands like this," he blurted, "if-"

"Okay," Hunk said, his voice quiet. "Good. It's… I like this better, anyway."

I like this better.

I like this.

Keith played the words in his mind over and over while his heart hammered away in his chest. A minute ago he'd been sinking into the relaxing embrace of a deep-pressure calm, and now he was wide awake, tingling from head to toe, trying to control his breathing.

It was exhilarating.

I like this, too.

"Keith?" Hunk squeezed his hand, just a little, just for a second, and the tingling, live-wire sensation exploded upward, traveling along Keith's arm, settling into his chest. His heartbeat thrummed.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to squeeze your shoulders?"

Yes. Yes. Please. I want you to.

"Okay."

Hunk let go of his hand and turned toward him, and Keith took the hint. He moved until he was facing away from Hunk, sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed. He felt the mattress shift – Hunk was sitting up on his knees – and then he felt Hunk's huge hands resting heavily on his shoulders, pressing down in a perfectly uniform squeeze.

"Too much or not enough?"

Keith was having trouble finding his breath.

"Just right," he murmured.

And it was, although Keith was struggling to understand how the sensation could be both soothing and electrifying at the same time. He wasn't feeling particularly relaxed – he thought he was likely to vibrate right out of his skin, any minute now – but he felt good. Anchored, excited, safe-

Hunk's arms slid down and around his chest, encircling him, wrapping him up in the pressure and the warmth…

Keith let the air out of his lungs.

"Too much?"

Hunk's voice was low and close.

"No." Keith leaned back against his chest. "Just right."

Hunk's forehead was resting against his hair.

"Keith?"

Keith felt his heart leap into the back of his throat.

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking I might try to go to sleep."

"Oh. Okay-"

"And I was thinking…"

Keith felt his hesitation, felt Hunk's breath catch in his chest, because his back was pressed against it.

"I was thinking… maybe you could stay."