PROLOGUE
"How did you even GET satellite here in the first place? I mean, we're in space. "
Lance's incredulous question is directed at the small box-like tv sitting on the floor, innumerable wires connecting it to an electricity panel in the wall. Sure, it wasn't huge, and yes, it was a rather old model (and for the weeks that he had been working on trying to fix it Hunk had had this fact pointed out to him too many times), but it finally worked. Well, mostly. The image was very grainy, with quality very, very far from high definition, and half of the screen was in sepia. But the sound played loud enough to hear, and you only had to strain your ears a bit to do so.
"Pidge has some mad skills, dude, especially when we work together."
Hands on his hips and a grin on his lips Hunk smiles over at the paladin in question, who from their position cross-legged on floor gives him a sheepish grin in return and a small thumbs up.
"It's nothing really. It's kind of the same thing I did with the machine to look for Kerberos. Just took apart some stuff from the castle and used it to broaden the satellite recognition signal. Admittedly, this one needed a bit of a longer range."
"Don't sell yourself short," Shiro stated, arms folded over his own chest and staring at the object, impressed. "You two did a good job."
Now it was Hunk's turn to flash an appreciative grin.
"Have you thought about what you're going to watch first?"
They all look over when Keith asks the question with mild-curiosity, squatting down near the base of the tv so he could look at the complicated seam of wires attached to it. Pidge smacked his prodding hand away.
"Oh yeah, big time." Hunks smile only grew, a twinkle resting in his eye. "A cooking show."
WEEK 1
So, they hadn't found a couch or anything in the castle (really, what kind of castle doesn't even have a good spare set of seating or two?).
That's fine, Hunk decided easily. He'd just sit on the floor. Cushions were overrated anyway. Cross-legged and eating a bowl of space goo, his eyes were glued to the screen as ten men and women dashed around, trying to prepare the perfect dairy-free ice cream dish for the unrelenting judges. The other inhabitants of the castle walked past during their daily routine, occasionally stealing a glance.
WEEK 2
"Still sitting on the floor?" Shiro's question was stated in his usual calm tone of voice, a sole eyebrow raised as he glanced over at Hunk, yet again sitting on the cool metal, eyes glued to the screen. He noticed, subtly, that Hunk was now eating a space goo version of a dish that had previously won the last episode, surely something the yellow paladin had recreated himself.
"Yup. Can't miss this week's episode of Heated Kitchen."
WEEK 3
"Hunk? What's wrong? Why are you in such a rush to leave the table?" Concern rests gently in Allura's eyes, mingled in with confusion. One eyebrow is raised upward as Hunk basically shoves the dinner Coran had prepared onto a plate.
"Yeah dude, stay for dinner. Let's eat like a family." Lance leans back in his chair, his tone almost whining, feet resting on the table. Keith scoffs at him lightly. Whether the blue paladin was ignoring Coran's pointed stare or simply didn't notice would be up for much debate over the next week. For now, though, he simply allowed memories of his own family dinners back at home to wash over him: loud, messy, amiable.
"No can do, man. It's on tonight, and I can't move the tv to me so I gotta move to it."
None of them had to ask what 'it' meant- of course they knew. A few of them groaned aloud. Hunk moved to other plates as he spoke, continuing to shovel food. A bit of goop splattered on the floor.
"Seriously? That show again? I think you're a bit obsessed." Pidge's mouth is full of food as they say this, earning their own annoyed glance from Coran.
"Not obsessed- dedicated."
WEEK 4
"No no no no!" Hunks cries are loud and distant, ringing out with urgency.
"What's wrong!? Was that Hunk?" Shiro's question comes immediately, brows pointed downward in that fatherly way only he could manage. He's quick to start running down the halls towards the voice, reactions as sharp as ever. The other three follow, their leader's concern mirrored in their own eyes.
"Do you think a Galra soldier somehow got on the ship?" Keith's tone is just as serious, glancing over at Shiro as they matched strides next to each other.
"There's no way," Lance says, catching up to the others. "Coran and Allura fixed the defense problems last week, remember?"
"Yeah, but if it's a smart enough Galra they can make their way in anyway."
"Not since we're so prepared!"
"That didn't stop them last time, dumbass."
"Well we weren't prepared that time! I mean, the door was wide open. Just like your mom's- OW!"
Lance was cut off with a sharp elbow to his side, given by the shortest paladin wearing annoyed look on their face.
"Hunk, what happened?"Shiro's demand came out as soon as they hit the doorway, being the only one of them not out of breath. His question is all-too-quickly answered, though as they all groan loudly at the sight.
"Seriously!? That show AGAIN!?"
Hunk barely glances over at Keith's disbelief, his tone full of annoyance, arms waving around angrily as he alternates between looking at his friends and looking over at the tv where a poor contestant was in tears.
"How could she let her Charlotte Russe get so runny like that!? She should have KNOWN to give it more time in the fridge so the gelatin had time to set, or at least made the ladyfingers thicker, but no, she thought she should spend the first hour piping icing birds, and now look where those left her. With runny gelatin."
The groans only grew louder.
WEEK 5.
"Good morning paladins. I hope you're ready for today's training, we're stepping it up a notch to make sure you're ready for any attacks- Where is the big one?" Coran cuts himself off halfway through his speech, ginger eyebrow raised pointedly as he notices Hunk is missing. There seems to be something he's missing, as the other pilots are either groaning into a hand or sheepishly avoiding his gaze.
"What? What is it?"
"... Uh, I'm pretty sure he's watching his cooking show." Lance states, watching as a vein basically extracts itself from how far it's standing out from the adviser's forehead.
"HUNK!"
WEEK 6.
"Hunk, watcha making?" His tone full of curiosity, Lance hovers over one of Hunk's shoulders as Pidge squats under the other, an attempt to glance at whatever creation he's putting so much effort into. He had basically spent the entire day in the kitchen. This had left Lance to have to train with Keith instead, and Hunk to have to apologize to Pidge as they fixed the navigation system on their own.
"It looks cool doesn't it?" Eyes glance back over his own shoulder, a proud smile forming at the corners of his lips.
"Yeah it does! I can't really place it, but it looks familiar. Like something my sister used to make."
"Which one?" Pidge had to glance around Hunk to ask, though Hunk kept on cooking as if nothing was happening.
"Carmela."
"Ah."
"And done!" With a swift nod of his head, he looks down at the food in his hands with pride. Careful so as not to spill it, Hunk makes his way towards the dining room to set it cautiously on the table. The full table, now that Pidge and Lance had joined and sat down, looked on with wonder, a glint in each of their eyes and drool dribbling down from one or two mouths.
"Thank you Hunk," Shiro said, clearly impressed despite being as stoic as always. "This looks great."
"That looks delicious Hunk!" Allura clapped her hands together, curiosity bright in her gaze as she looked up at him questioningly. "Is this Earth food? Where did you come up with the recipe?"
All the serving each had began to do, and the shoving of Lance and Keith as they fought over a ladle, halted with a groan at the response.
"Heated Kitchen!"
WEEK 7.
The people of this ship were busy people, being defenders of the universe and all. Most of the day was spent in alternating groups of training, missions, ship repairs, eating, or sleeping. When they stopped on a new planet, ready to make sure peace was brought to the universe one floating rock at a time, they were even busier.
At this moment, however, there was relative peace. The 10,600 year old ship sailed smoothly on course to it's next destination, and the crew was worn out from training for the day. Four paladins and a princess lounged around a large room, each either speaking to another quietly or keeping themselves busy with something. For the moment they were happy just to be in each other's presence, reminded that in this HUGE empty mass of stars and planets, they were not alone.
Finally, the missing one walks into the room, head down and moping. He plops himself grumpily on the floor, legs crossing under him as his arms folded across his chest. All any of the others had to do was check their watch and realize what time it was to know what Hunk had just been up to.
"Let me guess, did that blonde one get sent home?" Keith asked, breaking the silence for once as his brows were furrowed skeptically. Hunk simply nodded, still not looking up. They all gave a knowing look of sympathy. It wasn't like any of them actually watched the show, and none were nearly as dedicated as Hunk was, but it was hard not to at least know the name of some of the contestants, especially his favorites, when he spoke about it ALL the time.
"That's a shame, man." Lance offered from his spot on the couch. "She had a really nice pair of- OW! Again!?"
Pidge simply shrugged, elbow still pointed from the attack.
"What was it? Another runny cake?" Allura asked, long locks of white hair falling as she tilted her head slightly to one side.
"It was SO not fair!" Hunk exploded, finally looking up. "I mean, sure, she only JUST managed to get her dish on the plate in the first challenge and her meat was stillundercooked, she deserves that. But to say that the pear chunks were too big and weren't complemented well by the Gorgonzola!? Bullshit!" It wasn't like Hunk to swear- there were definitely on the team far more potty-mouthed than he- but here it was well-deserved. "The savory rich flavor of Gorgonzola perfectly complements the sweet acidity of pear! They were just being unfair because she didn't make 'good enough TV.' "
The others nodded again sympathetically.
WEEK 8.
Deciding that his suffering had gone on for far too long, Hunk was finally found a nice place to sit: a large, comfortably sprawling couch in a fitting dark yellow, cushions soft against his previously sore ass. This didn't help the concentration however, as the room where the tv-box had been set up -and was now laying comfortable on a table of its own- just happened to be the room where they were trying (operative word: trying) to have a strategy meeting.
"I think we should visit the planet of Undisonus next, as it's the closest to our current location. However, as Princess Allura pointed out the people there strongly worship the color of blue, so I think it's best if Lance flies the blue Lion in first ahead of us and- Lance. Are you even listening?"
His strategic, matter-of-fact tone gives away to annoyance as soon as Shiro realizes that the one in question isn't even paying attention. Actually, none of them are. Only he, Coran, and Allura are focusing on the task at hand, the other three paladins looking over at where Hunk sits on the couch, where in the tv show he's watching three frantic chefs battle it out in the semi-final.
"Yeah, pay attention dumbass." Pidge states, though without even at the one they're insulting as they continue to stare intensely at the tv.
Of course, it wasn't like they had to have the strategy meeting in this room particularly. They could have technically chosen any other room in the castle, except Hunk would refuse to be there. The only time any of them could have a moment for this was right after dinner, which just happened to be right during the broadcast of Heated Kitchen. And all of them knew that trying to drag Hunk from an episode of that, not to mention the semi-final, would be like trying to rip off Zendak's metal arm.
"I am paying attention!" Cried out Lance in protest, "But I can't believe they're not disqualifying Alyn- he was totally the one who sabotaged Morgiana's dish!"
Maybe that decision was a mistake, though, as three of the paladins somehow got into something of a wrestling match over the show. Allura placed a reassuring hand on Shiro's shoulder as he rubbed circles into his temples.
"Don't go placing the blame so easily, it was obviously an accident. Plus, her dish was way too complicated anyway. Did she really expect to make that in only two hours?" Keith held a gloved hand out to the tv, emphasizing his point as he spoke.
"You're just mad because your favorite made his dish way too simple! I mean seriously, he's going to win the semi-final with a Maultaschen? Those are basically just stuffed pasta squares!" Lance shot back.
"Hey, don't go hating on Maultaschen, their really hearty and really good!" Pidge stated angrily, winding their way into the argument.
"I have to admit," Coran popped up from behind with one finger twirling the end of his mustache. "I agree with Lance. Maultascher, or whatever you call it, would be fine in another challenge or as a side dish, but as the spotlight of a main course in the semi-final? It doesn't have enough puzzazz."
"Thank you!" Keith stated indignantly, raising both hands in the air.
"Oh shut up, Mullet Man!"
"You shut it, Grumpy Face!"
"Hey! Ow, ow, ow! Get out of my face dudes, I can't see the screen!" Hunk finally joined the conversation, when his view was obstructed by the fighting.
Shiro rested his head on the table with a small bang, absently considering doing it over and over. Allura kindly rubbed small circles into his shoulders. After a moment, however, she added, "He does have a point."
WEEK 9.
All wearing various forms of pajamas, the seven of them (joined by the four mice and even the recently fixed-up rover), huddled for space on the couch. Despite their close proximities- this couch really wasn't meant for so many people, forcing some to be basically on each others laps, legs splaying on top of others and heads resting against chests- the arguing that the lack of room had brought ceased the moment the program, in all it's standard definition, half-sepia glory, began playing.
They all sang along to the theme song in various levels of noise, accents mixing together in a less-than-beautiful harmony, if one could even call it that. But what their singing lacked in tune made up for in the sheer enjoyment of being together like this, doing something as mundane as watching a cooking show.
A cooking show's finale, one might add.
All eyes, blue, brown, or any other, were glued to the tv in the same levels of intensity. The past WEEK had been divided into two teams: those going for the cheeky, sweet, young-upstart Morgiana, and those going for the more experience, sardonic goofball Clint. Though annoyed that this had actually affected training, meals, the frequency of bickering, and even a battle once, even Shiro had his opinion.
At times someone voiced a complaint or a cheer, or asked a question about how something should be cooked (Hunk was always the one to answer the latter, being the veteran of the show), but in a respectful way, each being silent when something important was happening.
None of them quite remembered to breath as the show drew to it's finale, everyone all but leaning forward as the judges were about to choose which dish would win: Clint's Bourbon Pecan Chicken paired with Gnocchi and Sage-Butter sauce, or Morgiana's Crab-Stuffed Lobster Tail, accompanied by Ginger Glazed Mahi Mahi.
"It's been a very tough decision," the main judge said, addressing the two competitors. The eager viewers nodded along with each word that was spoken. "You two have shown outstanding work and progress throughout the course of the show, and I think we can all agree we've been very lucky to be able to taste your masterpiece dishes."
"Come on, out with it!" Lance's comment was, for once, met with no opposition. One could venture to say this group of viewers was more nervous and excited than the two chefs in the tv.
"But only one of you can earn the title of Kitchen Master, and after a tough call, your judges have decided that person to be-"
The ship lurched to the side, having hit something of a small asteroid. The ship was fine (what from Zarkon's mens' attacks it had dealt with much more), and none of the passengers were hurt beyond a bit of jostling, but it was just enough to rip out the perfectly arranged cables from the wall, sending the tv box sliding off the table and onto the floor with a defining crack.
"NO!" They all shouted at once, diving for it but with no avail.
A moment of silence quickly followed, each of them staring in shock as they mourned the shattered machinery, and the loss of not knowing the winner. It really had been fragile. Hunk was the one, finally, to break the silence, after who knows how many ticks, though he had the right to be the most devastated of all.
"So... who's up for some dinner?"