(a/n) My very first Voltron fic is dedicated to Jasjulet- a friend and terrific artist of tumblr. Please fill free to leave any comments or requests for fics you'd like to see my dudes!
Being in the depths of space was probably the most exhilarating, awe-inspiring, fantastical thing and there were an awful lot of perks about floating through stars literally and saving and liberating and all that.
So the highs were high and their indomitable conquest went on- just a mere crew of seven, five of which can actually tame lions (and form telepathic connections with them, too).
But some days- some weird, upside-down kinds of days- space and all its infinite glory and magnificence sucked.
Food sucked, sleeping sucked, missions, talking, not talking, and everything, everything, everything sucked.
They all felt it; sometimes it was like a unanimous heaviness that creeped up on them at their highest- when Lance would jump up on that incredibly long dining table and shout just how great they all were, how enumerated their successes were. And then they'd all feel it, growing quiet and pulled away from that high.
Other times, like right now? Hunk figures with an emptiness that, well, he thinks maybe that that feeling took some kind of backwards pleasure in singling out- that weighty suckiness.
Because no matter what he did or how much he thought nothing could shake that feeling, the homesickness, the...the obvious doubt and, oh god, what am I even doing here? Hunk was a kid and still, despite the victories, despite the unbreakable, inexplicable bond, he just didn't know.
And he didn't like the kill like Keith did, didn't want the praise of it like Lance and didn't possess that fiery determination (majorly based on a totally tragic backstory) like Pidge and Shiro- Allura and Coran, too.
He...was just Hunk- and he loved to cook and hug and build things.
So this dreadful thought of everything sucking so bad sits heavy on him, like the body counts and the sheer
..sheer fact that his family is down there, while he's all the way up here, worrying sick about him.
And so, yeah, space sucked sometimes; but no one knew it better than the six other people stuck up there with him, Hunk seems to now remember with a bittersweet glumness and a tired, undone way about he as he hangs off the side of the couch.
But they get it- his family- they get him and they get this feeling, his new warrior family does.
Hunk knows that like he knows how to wire and engineer. Still, anyway, he hangs half on the couch half on lazily, eyes far away (maybe they're just traveling back home) and dazed and bright.
Lost.
But, maybe, not so lost much at all as they are doleful, as they are tired like something Hunk can't explain.
He can't explain this either; the way, one by one, his family piles in; Pidge stumbles drowsily in from an incidental midday nap, plopping beside Hunk's head, those tiny fingers brushing past the thick strands of hair; Keith finds them not long after, his training forgotten somehow as he slides to the floor below, at Pidge's feet, by Hunk's dangling hand, his head falling back where it touches Hunk's shoulder.
And Lance is right in tow like he always is, lifting Hunk's legs to let them fall overtop of his.
Shiro, stalking in with a snuffed chuckle, watches them give off this silent consolation as he joins Keith, taking Hunk's hand in his cool, metal one.
Yeah, space-? it sucks on days like these that seem to last and last for longer. But, Hunk admits, it's also got these dorks, ones unique and, still, like him simultaneously.
And so if space has that- has this- then, Hunk figures as their fingers rove about in his hair and ruffle it gently, it's not so bad.