"I was thinking… maybe you could stay."

Keith didn't answer right away. He was busy trying to understand how he'd managed to stumble upon the exact sensation he'd thought about, wished for, craved for so long… trying to process the fact that he was being crushed against Hunk's chest, held steady by Hunk's arms… realizing that he wanted this moment to last and last and last…

He held onto Hunk's arms with his hands.

"Hunk?"

"Yeah?"

"A little more?"

Hunk tightened his hold, and Keith let his eyes fall shut, let his mouth fall open…

"Oh," he let slip

He felt the slow rise and fall of Hunk's chest against his back.

"Still just right?"

"Yeah."

He felt Hunk shift against him, and the calm, sleepy haze he'd fallen into started to lift a bit. Hunk was up on his knees, trying to hold himself perfectly still. It had to be uncomfortable – everything about this had to be uncomfortable – and yet he hadn't said anything, hadn't shown any sign of judgment or discomfort whatsoever.

And he won't, Keith realized, suddenly. He'd probably try to stay like this all night if I asked him to.

All night.

"Hunk?"

"Uh huh?"

He steeled himself. He forced the words out.

"Do you want to lay down?"

"Yeah."

Hunk let go.

Keith found the sudden loss of pressure disorienting. His skin felt uneven, like he'd been touched too much in some places and not others, and the change in temperature along his back made him feel momentarily lightheaded. He swallowed hard.

He turned to face the viewscreen in the wall – he didn't look at Hunk; he wasn't ready for that – and then he laid down on his side on Hunk's pillow, on top of the blankets.

He waited.

A few seconds ticked by before Hunk started to shift, and then he felt Hunk's right arm sliding under the pillow, felt Hunk's chest pressing against his back…

And then Hunk's left arm was encircling him, holding tight to his chest, applying comforting, exhilarating, perfect pressure…

"Too much?" Hunk murmured, close to his ear.

"No," Keith said, breaking the script, because the heat and solid presence of Hunk's body was making it hard to think.

"Do you want to keep the movie on?"

"Uh. Not really."

"Viewscreen off," Hunk called. "Dim lights."

The computer complied with his requests, and the lighting in the room fell to a pale, nightlight glow.

"Better?" Hunk asked, speaking quietly, again. "Do bright lights bother you, too?"

"They…"

Keith stopped. Searching for the words was like wading through molasses; his mind was filled to the brim with the soothing sensation of being held.

Talking was good, though, Keith decided. Silence might've been difficult, might've drawn more attention to the fact that they were in bed together, pressed up against each other…

"It's hard to explain," he said.

"Try me. Take your time."

Keith thought for a while, trying to figure out how to translate his sensory experiences into words.

"Some things go off in my head like alarm bells," he finally said. "Like a siren. Being grabbed or touched the wrong way. Having to eat something I really hate. Trying to hold a conversation in a noisy room. But other things are just… smaller. Like a mosquito bite. Annoying, but easier to ignore. For me, the lights are usually like that. Uh. Unless I've had a really bad day."

"Is it cumulative? Do the smaller things add up?"

"Yeah. They can. I've gotten pretty good at keeping that from happening, though."

"Uh huh. You're awesome. I had no idea it was such a struggle. I mean, I know it must feel terrible, still, but you don't really let it show."

Keith felt himself frown. Awesome?

"Seriously? I feel like it must show all the time."

"No way. I always thought you were just… like… focused. In a good way. It's not that strange to keep your distance from people you don't know that well. Everyone values their personal space, y'know?"

Keith found this statement ironic, given their current configuration.

"Even you?"

"Uh. I mean, sometimes. Or… maybe not. I don't know. I guess I'd rather be… close."

"Yeah, I… I used to wonder if you and Lance…"

Hunk let out a low laugh. Keith felt his breath on the back of his neck.

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Yeah."

"Lance and I made out, once. On a dare, at a party."

"Really?"

"Uh huh. I didn't hate it. I mean, it wasn't weird, or anything. He's a sloppy kisser, though. And neither of us felt much of anything. We were already best friends by then, and we liked it that way."

Keith took a moment to process this, trying to summon the courage to ask what he wanted to ask.

"So, you… um… you like guys?"

He felt Hunk shrug, a little.

"I like all kinds of people."

"Oh. Okay. I… I didn't know that."

"Yeah. I guess it never really came up." They were quiet for a moment before Hunk prodded, "So… what about you? What kind of people do you like?"

"I don't know," Keith said honestly.

"That's cool. I guess I don't really know sometimes, either. It can be hard to tell."

"Really? I thought most people just… knew."

"Maybe. Not me, though. I think there are a lot of different ways to like a person."

"Like what?" Keith asked, genuinely curious about what Hunk would say.

"Well… sometimes I like someone because of the way they talk, or laugh. Sometimes I really like the way someone's hair looks. Sometimes I like someone because they're really passionate, or really good at something. Sometimes I like people who are smaller than me, because… because I…"

He let the sentence go, and Keith felt a pang. He didn't want Hunk to stop talking. He wanted to know what Hunk was going to say.

"Because what?"

"Uh. Because I like doing this. What we're doing. Whatever this is. I… I think about doing things like this all the time, and… I know I said I wanted to do this for you, because I wanted to help you, and that was true, but… I like it, too, and I really hope that's okay."

Keith could hear the apprehension in his voice, could feel it in the way his arm tensed a bit around his chest. He didn't want that.

Of course, he wanted Hunk to like what they were doing.

Of course, he wanted Hunk to want this, too.

He'd been staring at Hunk's fingers, which were peeking out from under the pillow, close to his nose. He reached up and let his hand rest on top of them.

"It's okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You promise?"

Keith laughed, a little bit. "Yeah. I promise."

"It's good to hear you laugh." Hunk gave him a tiny, tighter squeeze. "You should do it more."

"Mm. I might need some help with that."

"Sure. I volunteer."

"Okay. Give it your best shot."

Hunk was quiet for a moment.

"Okay. I have a story. You ready?"

"Ready."

"So… I don't know if you know this, but Lance grew his hair out longer for a while, back when we were cadets. Everyone kept telling him how pretty he was for, like, weeks."

"Ugh," Keith groaned.

"I know, right? Super annoying. Anyway, this one time, we decided to hack into that huge viewscreen in the auditorium so we could play our video games in there, right? So I was changing out the wiring in the control box so we could hook up one of our old consoles, and I told Lance to lean close to the box to help me find the next wire I needed, but I accidently sparked one of the connections, and… his hair caught on fire a little bit."

Keith let out a burst of laughter.

"Holy shit!"

"I know! Oh my God, he screamed so loud! He was FINE though, it was, like, the tiniest little spark, and I didn't even feel bad because I was so sick of everyone talking about that fucking haircut!"

Keith went on giggling, imagining the scenario playing out.

"Oh man, he was so pissed, though," Hunk went on. "We still played video games, but he sulked on the opposite side of the auditorium for a whole hour. I didn't even think he was capable of keeping his mouth shut for that long. I kept telling him how impressed I was, and he kept, like, growling at me from a distance."

Hunk laughed to himself for a minute. Keith liked the way the vibration of it felt against his back.

"I can't believe you re-wired the viewscreen in the auditorium, though. I didn't really think you were the rebellious type."

"Oh, shit, yeah, Iverson was so pissed. We totally got caught. Like, red-handed. He was impressed, though, too, so he let us off with a warning."

"Mm. Sounds like a lot of fun."

"It was."

Keith stared at his hand, where it was resting on top of Hunk's hand. He moved his fingers a little bit and squeezed.

Hunk squeezed back and held the pressure steady.

Keith felt the tempo of his heartbeat start to climb.

Keep talking, he told himself. Talking is good.

"So… you like video games?" he prompted.

"I LOVE video games."

"Me, too."

"Yeah?" Hunk sounded genuinely interested. "What's your favorite?"

Keith smiled, sifting through some of his favorite, well-worn memories.

"I used to play on my dad's ancient consoles when I was a kid. He said I had to suffer through the old-fashioned graphics to earn my way up to the new stuff. I didn't mind, though. I loved them all. Did you ever play classic Ratchet and Clank?"

Hunk pressed a little closer against his back.

"I LOVE Ratchet and Clank."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think I have all of them in my library."

"Okay. We should definitely play." Keith hesitated, reflecting on the fact that this moment of peace was happening in the middle of a warzone, inside the last stronghold of their conquered planet. "Someday, I mean," he amended. "When we have time."

"Sure. If we're still alive when this is all over, we can play some video games."

Keith moved without thinking. He sat up, turned over, and took hold of Hunk's shoulder.

"Hunk."

Hunk blinked up at him, open-mouthed.

"Yeah?"

Keith leaned a little closer to him.

"We are not going to die."

They stared at each other, their faces only a few inches apart. Keith felt Hunk's shoulder rise and fall with his breathing, which was different, now that they were face to face.

His own was, too. He could feel his heart rate climbing, the first hints of adrenaline prickling deep in his chest and at the corners of his mouth. The loss of pressure was disorienting all over again, in a way he hadn't anticipated. He wasn't used to deep pressure, to being regulated by someone else's touch, by someone else's body-

"Keith…"

Hunk had propped himself up, his face was even closer-

There was a knock at the door.

Keith flew out of the bed.

"Hunk? You still awake, buddy? I brought you a snack!"

Keith winced.

Lance.

"Keith." Hunk was standing in front of him, now. His voice was quiet, his expression concerned. "It's okay, man. I won't say anything."

"I… that's not…" Keith scowled. The words wouldn't come. His heartbeat was uncomfortably loud, a persistent throb in his ears. "I should go."

Hunk stepped a little closer to him.

"I don't want you to."

"HUNK! OPEN UP, MAN, I HAVE FOOD!"

Hunk exhaled a groan, rolling his eyes.

"Lights," he called softly, and the room brightened again. He moved to the door and tapped the control panel to open it.

"Hey, man! Check it out! My mom had some chocolate stashed somewhere-"

Lance caught sight of Keith as soon as he stepped over the threshold. He flashed him a smile, seemingly unfazed about finding him in Hunk's quarters this late at night.

"Keith! Hey, man, how's it going?"

"Hey, Lance. I was just heading to bed. You good?"

"Yeah. Want some banana?" He jiggled the plate he was holding. "Chocolate flakes, too!"

"Nah. Thanks, though." Keith headed for the exit, avoiding Hunk's gaze. "You guys should catch up on sleep while you can. Let me know if you need anything."

"Later!" Lance called after him. He was already swiping himself into his quarters.

He let the door slide shut behind him and leaned against it, trying to figure out how he felt about the fact that Hunk hadn't tried to stop him.

He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

Kosmo was waiting for him, sitting up on the foot of the bed, giving him a look that could only be interpreted as reproachful.

"What?" Keith demanded. "That's my bunk you're slobbering all over, you know."

Kosmo snuffle-yipped, bobbing his head in rebuke, like he knew Keith hadn't planned on coming back until morning.

"Oh, like it's any of your business!"

Keith flopped onto his bunk and scowled at the ceiling. Kosmo jumped down from the bed to make room for his legs, sat down next to him on the floor, and let out a low howl.

"I'm fine," Keith lied.

He let his hand fall onto Kosmo's head and stroked his fur.

He thought about Hunk's arms tightening around his chest.

He sighed.

His wrist communicator vibrated. He tapped into the notification, and a holographic display of a private text chat materialized above his forearm.

Hunk: I'm sorry about that. Lance went to bed.

He typed a response:

Keith: Don't apologize. Not a big deal.

He watched the seconds tick by on the clock at the top of the display, waiting for a response.

Ask me to come back. I will, if you ask.

Hunk: I think we should hang out again sometime.

Keith felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach.

Sometime.

Not now.

Not right this second.

Keith: Sure.

Hunk: I'll be here. If you can't sleep.

Keith chewed his lower lip. It was so close to what he needed to hear. It was as much as he could've hoped for.

But it wasn't enough.

Keith: I'll be here, too.

The seconds ticked by.

Hunk: Night, Keith.

Keith: Night.

He closed the display. He knew staring at it would only spike his anxiety.

He knew his anxiety was going to spike, anyway.

He stood up and walked to the closet at the far side of the room. He pulled out all of the spare sheets and blankets he found inside and layered them on top of his bunk. Then he slid underneath the pile and shifted onto his stomach, focusing on the weight of the blankets against his back…

It wasn't enough.

He stood up from the bed, pulled off one of the blankets, and wrapped it snugly around his torso, fighting the urge to secure it too tight. He knew it wasn't worth it – he didn't want to hurt himself – but he was chasing the kind of pressure he couldn't replicate by on his own, the sensation of laying in bed next to-

Hunk.

He finished wrapping the blanket and slid under the covers again, sighing just to feel the resistance against his chest. It felt good. It felt better.

It still wasn't enough.

He closed his eyes, pressed his face against his pillow, and let himself imagine that he was still being held.

He thought about Hunk's hands – wide, skilled and strong – encircling all of his fingers at once.

He thought about the rise and fall of Hunk's chest against his back.

He thought about the vibration of Hunk's laughing, about Hunk's breath on the back of his neck-

He felt heat and pressure below the waistline of his pants.

"Fuck!"

The pillow absorbed the sound of his voice, and he was grateful. He didn't want to hear himself speaking that word. He didn't want to think about what this meant – the fact that he was getting hard, imagining his friend's hands on his body. It was mortifying. What would Hunk think, if he knew? And why was it happening now? They were friends. Keith had never had thoughts like this about Hunk before. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had thoughts like this about anyone.

He shifted his position so that he could squeeze the fingers of his left hand, like Hunk had done, and remembering that simple gesture offered him a moment of clarity.

Hunk hadn't just squeezed his hand. He'd held it.

Hunk's arms around him had been more than just deep pressure. They'd been in bed together, talking and laughing, feeling each other's bodies.

It had been an embrace.

At least, it had felt that way, to Keith. Hunk was the only person who had ever held him close, like that.

Hunk was the only person he'd ever wanted to stay with, all night.

Hunk was the only person who'd ever asked him to.

There are a lot of different ways to like a person.

Keith turned onto his side, curled into a ball, and wished that Hunk would come knock on his door.

He went on wishing for it until he fell asleep, alone.