"So," Lance said, his back to his audience, "I suppose you're wondering why I called the three of you here today."

Pidge shot Coran and Keith a look. Keith wasn't the best person in the world at picking up on social cues, but he was pretty sure that her look wasn't very complimentary towards Lance.

"Before I proceed any further, I must insist that you all treat everything I tell you with the utmost secrecy."

"Oh for crying out loud, Lance, get to the point already."

Miffed, Lance looked at Pidge for a moment. "Rude. Anyway, it's Hunk's birthday next week, or as I've chosen to call it, 'Hunkaversary', so we totally need to throw him a party. And you are the right crew for the job. Coran? You're in charge of food preparation. Pidge? You're assisting Coran. Keith? You are on distraction duty. Make sure Hunk doesn't know anything. And I'll work on decoration, gift acquisition, and coordinating the whole event. Any questions?"

Coran tentatively put a hand up.

"Yes?"

"Just one small question. What are you talking about?"

"About Hunk's birthday?"

"Yeah that… thing."

"You know, his birthday. His… I actually can't think of a synonym for birthday. His day of birth? Keith, help."

"The one day of the year that we celebrate a person's birth, or something?"

Coran smacked his palm with his fist. "Oh, you must mean the periodic commemoration of the yellow pilot's nativity! Why didn't you just say so instead of using so much jargon?" He grabbed Pidge's wrist. "Come, small one. We must commence preparation of the Celebratory Pudding immediately!"

"Wait, wha…" was all Pidge got out before being dragged away.

Lance turned his attention to Keith. "Well, I guess you should start your mission as well."

"Uh, are you sure that Pidge isn't better suited to distracting Hunk than I am?"

"Are you questioning my decision making? Besides, what does Pidge know about subterfuge?"

"Besides successfully creating a fake alternate identity and fooling, uh, certain people about it long enough that they didn't figure it out by themselves?"

Lance turned slightly red. "Sorry, my decisions are final. Go distract Hunk."

Keith wandered off, muttering. "Who put him in charge anyway?"

Fortunately for Keith, the job was not all that difficult. Apparently, Hunk spent the bulk of his time in the engineering section, working on some special project of his. While all Garrison students were expected to have some level of hands-on technical knowledge, geniuses like Hunk and Pidge seemed to be several levels ahead of Keith and Lance.

Occasionally, Hunk shot a curious glance across the room toward Keith, so Keith would quickly pretend to be making minor adjustments to his bayard.

"So, do you have any suggestions for the celebratory meal, green sous-chef?"

"Well, I know what Hunk likes. But it might be difficult to come anywhere close to Spam musubi or lumpia or chicken adobo out in space."

"I'm going to assume that those syllables you just said represent foodstuffs of some kind."

"A correct assumption. So, Spam musubi is this sort of savoury meat thing on rice, and lumpia are these rolls of meat and vegetables fried in oil, and chicken adobo is a spicy meat dish."

"I assume you have lists of ingredients for these dishes?"

"Not a chance. But I do have a vague idea of what they look like. And if we could make things taste slightly less like green space goo, that would be a plus."

"That's a tall order, bespectacled one. But perhaps we can make it happen."

His face tense with concentration, Lance poked the needle through the cloth and pulled. He smiled in triumph as he completed the stitch.

Then his face fell, as he saw he had lost the thread.

"I have the thread the needle again ? Why do I get the feeling this is some kind of ironic retribution?

Hunk looked up from his computer display over to Keith.

With attempted nonchalance, Keith poked at his bayard with a screwdriver.

"Keith?"

Okay, stay calm. "Yeah, Hunk?"

"I know what you're doing."

Oh crap . "Y-you do?"

"Lance and Shiro are busy and you want someone to train with, right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. That was what I was going to ask you to do."

"Just give me 1.7 kiloticks, okay?"

"Wha?"

"Half an hour."

"Oh, sure, yeah. Meet you in the training hall?"

"Will do. Just… go easy on me? Please?"

"If I'm remembering my food chemistry classes correctly, most food thickeners are similar to cellulose, so if it's possible to get our hands on some polysaccharides, we can transform food goo into food chunks."

"When you describe it like that, Pidge, it sounds so appetizing."

"I'm never sure when you're being sarcastic, Coran."

"Frankly, neither am I. So let's assume that we can get a variety of textures, and using the edible dyes you mentioned earlier, a variety of colors. What about flavors?"

"That's going to be the toughest hurdle."

"By the way… 'food chemistry classes'?"

"My middle school had a 'home economics' requirement. I got permission to do independent study. I may not be able to cook pancakes, but I can give you the ideal ratio of rising agents to batter. I think I have an idea about flavors, though. There's the Chinese restaurant our family used to go to…"

"Yes, Lance, Allura and I have been working on it. We should be ready in time. It would help to know exactly when to send the communication."

"I'll get you an exact time as soon as I talk to Pidge."

"Hey, Lance, Shiro!"

Lance put a frozen grin on his face. "Say nothing, remain casual," he said out of the corner of his mouth. "Oh, hi Hunk, what's up?"

"Listen, could one of you guys train with Keith for awhile today? For the last few days, he's been staring at me non-stop in the engineering section until I go training with him. And I don't think I have the endurance to keep up with him any longer."

"Um, gotta go." Shiro disappeared through a bulkhead doorway that closed behind him.

"Gee, Hunk, I'd be happy to oblige you, but uh…" Thinking fast, he pulled a plaster off a needle-pricked finger. "Ah, look, blood! To the medical bay! Someone prepare a transfusion!" Lance fled.

Hunk was left alone in the corridor. "I think space makes people weird. Keith is becoming some kind of fitness maniac. Shiro and Lance are clearly hiding something, and I'm talking to myself."

The next day, it was finally here. The day that Lance was calling "H minus zero", but everyone else refused to.

Though Lance had had his heart set on an evening celebration, it was easier to do a surprise in the morning, with food and decorations being prepared while Hunk was still in bed. As a result, Lance was yawning happily as the rest of the castle-ship's crew entered the eating area.

Shiro looked around. "This is pretty impressive-posters, tablecloths, even party hats? Did you make this all yourself, Lance? Where did you get the materials?"

"Weeks of dedicated scrounging." He yawned again. "Oh, you may be missing some stuff, but I'm pretty sure I didn't steal anything too important."

Shiro was fairly sure that Lance was joking, so he chuckled only slightly worriedly.

Pidge and Coran entered, carrying covered trays. "So, is the birthday boy here?" Pidge asked. "The food's ready!"

A mouse climbed up to Allura and squeaked. "They say he's on his way here. Get ready, everyone."

As promised, moments later, the yellow paladin, in warmup pants and sweatshirt arrived in the dining area. "Morning, is…"

"SURPRISE!"

Hunk's drowsy eyes opened completely. "What… what? WHAT?"

Pidge grinned. "Happy birthday, Hunk!"

Lance frowned, "Hey, I wanted to be the first to say it. Happy birthday man!"

Hunk's nonplussed expression became a grin as his teammates gave him congratulations. "Seriously, you guys? It's actually January 13th?"

"Sort of?" Keith said. "I mean, because of relativity, it's hard to say what the exact date on planet Earth is right now, particularly since we don't precisely know how fast we've traveled, and we're not sure how wormhole travel affects things, but based on our own time reckoning, it should be January 13th. Or close enough within an acceptable margin of error. So anyway, Happy Birthday."

"So, enough physics," Lance interrupted, "how about breakfast?"

"That's our department," said Coran. "Apprentice chef Pidge, let's reveal all!" With a flourish, both of them lifted covers off of trays they were carrying.

"Is that… no way. There's no way you were able to make spam musubi in space. NO FREAKING WAY." Hunk looked over to the tray Pidge was carrying. "Is that haupia? SERIOUSLY? Tell me I'm not dreaming."

Pidge grinned. "I mean, this was our first time making it, so it may not be exactly like you're used to. I just don't want you to be disappointed…"

"I gotta try one." He reached over and grabbed a piece of the spam musubi and popped it into his mouth. "Oh man, so good. I mean, I get what you mean, the taste isn't exactly the same, but who cares?" He grabbed Pidge and Coran into a hug. "You guys are the literal best."

After breakfast was over, Lance handed Hunk a package. "For you."

"You got me a present? Geez, guys, you're going to make me embarrassed.

"C'mon, Hunk, open it!"

"Okay, okay." He quickly tore the package open to reveal a small copy of the yellow lion, crafted out of cloth. "You made me a plushie of my lion? This is so awesome!" Lance got pulled into a hug. I can't believe you made this yourself? Hey, this looks like it's made from the same fabric as my pajama top."

He paused for a moment.

"The same pajama top you volunteered to fix a hole in for me."

Lance chuckled. "Well, it was on its last legs, so I figured repurposing was a good idea."

"Aah, you're right. I can always sleep in something else. But this…" he held up the plushie lion, "...is definitely one of a kind."

"Me next!" Keith handed Hunk a small wrapped object. "Happy birthday!"

"Ooh, I wonder what it could be? It feels like a book…" He opened it to reveal a notebook. "Huh, okay, let's look inside…"

He opened the book and read aloud. "'Special combat and endurance training regimen for Hunk'" His face revealed a frozen smile. "How… nice."

"Keep on reading, Hunk."

"'From his good friend, Keith.' Aww, thanks, Keith. That means a lot. I hope I can live up to your expectations." He grabbed Keith into a hug.

"Now it's my turn! Careful, it's a little fragile." Pidge passed Hunk a bulky package.

"Okay, I'll be careful." He gingerly wrapped the packaging off. "It's a… really oddly-colored ball?"

"Look at it more closely," Shiro said. "What is it representing?"

"Huh… it looks like a planet? It's not Earth but…" He gasped. "Is this a model of the Balmera?"

"Geographically correct. I made it out of papier-mâché."

He set it down and beckoned to Pidge. "C'mere, you." He hugged her tightly. "That is so freaking cool. I love it. That's amazing!"

Coran raised a hand. "I've got a gift, but I'll be presenting it after tonight's meal. It'll be our dessert."

"Edible gifts are great! Thanks Coran."

Allura spoke next: "There's something that Shiro and I have been working on as well. Hopefully it should be working now."

There was a pause.

"I said, it should be working now."

Another pause.

"Dear, you were supposed to…"

A familiar voice filled the room: "Oh, I am sorry Princess, did I not understand you correctly?"

"Sh..Shay? Is that you?"

"Oh, Paladin Hunk, I am happy to offer you greetings on the day of your birth."

"I'm so happy to hear from you, how are you doing?"

"I am equally happy to speak to you, and even more joyful to know that you are well."

"How is the Balmera?"

"Since the renewal, it waxes in strength and heals the scars left behind by the Galra."

"That's so good to hear. Do you go up to look at the stars a lot?"

"As often as I am able to do so. I am doing so now, in fact. It is such an indescribable sight."

The others quietly withdrew to let Hunk and Shay have a conversation in private. A look from Hunk to Shiro and Allura promised them a hug later.

A few days later, the peaceful respite was over. The paladins were preparing for combat.

"By the way, Hunk," Shiro spoke over the comm unit, "I think the time has come for the rest of your gift. Go ahead and say it."

"O-okay." He cleared his throat. "Team! Let's form Voltron!"

His fellow paladins cheered as they began the transformation to giant mecha.

"...Are you sure I can't be the head?"

"Maybe next year. Happy birthday, Hunk."

Notes: This was originally written for Hunk's birthday (January 13th) in 2017. It would be more appropriate to wait until next January to post this again, but I don't want to wait that long.