Chapter Text
Today was going to be a hard day. Lance just knew it. It would be hard to smile, hard to joke, and hard to even get words out of his mouth. How does he know this? Well, it’s quite simple really. Another round of nightmares of every possible bad outcome, a sore body from training yesterday, and the blaring obvious drill alarms going off near his head did that to a person. The time of the fake drills is always the same and oh so predictable. Thank his lucky stars that he has the knock code and that someone actually understands it.
Lance stands up and goes near the vent and taps out a message to Hunk three rooms down.
(She should start changing the time of drills.) A response.
(And you should get ready.) Lance snorts. He enters the bathroom to wash off his face mask and starts his morning routine. He leaves his room later than he should have. His products kept getting knocked over due to his swinging arms. Note to self: Fidgety today. Great.
The castle feels cold as he walks. It takes a couple of minutes to get to the deck and Lance absolutely hates the feeling of the encroaching cold and stillness that the castle puts off. It reminds him of the nightmares. Of the feelings of worthlessness, uselessness. It reminds him of the made-up images of his lifeless comrades, no his fallen family. The numbness of the realization that it’s all his fault. That he wasn’t good enough. That he’s alone. Like frostbite, it consumes and freezes his heart and body till there’s nothing left but the deafening silence. So he does what he does best. Fills the silence. He sings some lines from various songs while tapping out different lyrics to another. He likes multi-tasking.
His mind and hands are occupied and Lance feels a sense of peace overcome him. He’s only really calm when he’s doing something. He lets his imagination run wild and suddenly he’s back on the beach in Verando. He twirls in a dance to fading self-created music. He can hear the ocean but doesn’t dare open his eyes. He can’t look at the grey world of his memories. It’s terrifying not being able to recall details of his home and family. He’d rather have the pitch black of nightmares. Lance is a strong believer in learning from the past. So if the impression works but not the details he knows he will be doomed to repeat the past. He doesn’t like that idea.
His walk is cut off short when he hears the voices of Pidge and Keith yelling over who has the best weapon. He walks to the door frame and listens.
“Are you kidding me having a grappling hook is way better than a sword!”
“But in close quarters you’re gonna wish you had a sword to fight with!”
“Not if I have Taser!”
“And if their mostly rubber and your ‘Taser’ doesn’t work?”
“That’s why I have the…”
“That’s why we have teamwork, Keith. Both of you have amazing weapons and use it effectively. But, we have to remember that we won’t win battles alone. So stop bickering and play nice”. Shiro’s voice cuts the argument off.
“Yes, Dad” is Pidgeon’s snarky comeback. Lance thinks this is as good of a time as any to enter the room.
“Ah, Lance my boy so good to see you”. Coran’s chipper voice greets him.
“Yes and later than he should have been” Allura quips. That stings but reminds himself to roll with it.
“Can’t rush perfection you know”. There are eyes rolling and the morning drill lecture begins. Slight Knocks on armor are heard.
(What happened?) Taps on a leg armor piece.
(Nightmares)
(That bad?)
(I couldn’t even get out of the bathroom without knocking things down at least once.) He can see Hunk wince in perfect timing to Allura’s voice raising an octave.
(Want to talk?)
(Not yet.)
(Okay just tell me when you do)
(Does never count) The Yellow Paladin raises an eyebrow. Lance taps.
(I’ll tell you when.)
(I’m here for you).
(I know). And Lance coughs into his hand and pays attention right in time for Allura to direct her attention to Lance.
“Now Lance your lateness could have cost Voltron. What if this had been a real Galra attack? And another thing…” Here we go.
One thing about practicing the knock code since you were little is that you get fast at it. Fast at understanding it. Fast at playing messages.
To have a friend is even better. No slowing down, and less of a risk of getting caught. Hunk and Lance can have entire conversations in knock code within minutes. When they first started people caught on quicker due to the slowness of their communication. But, after a decade a practice even those who know knock code wouldn’t be able to keep up completely.
But, living with people after so long in a confined space someone was bound to notice eventually. The duo was just waiting to see who, when, and where.
Surprisingly enough it seemed to be Coran. Lance picked up on it first. The odd looks. The eyes cast in their directions. The sight of aged hands trying to keep up and repeat their codes. They knew he knew but for some reason, he hadn’t confronted them yet. So it was needless to say that the duo was on high alert.
The question was asked during chores. Lance was cleaning the pods with Coran when he spoke.
“Have you ever heard of the tap code?” The sentence had Lance’s eyes shooting up, his hands letting go of the cleaning rag, and his feet stumbling right into a soapy water bucket. He fell. Now. Why now. At least he didn’t bring it up in front of the others. Lance rubbed the newly sore spot on his head and watched as Coran came over and offered Lance a hand. Coran helped him up off the floor. Lance now in a wet shirt and soggy pant leg looked up to Coran, eyes cast down.
“I’ll take that as a yes”. Lance sheepishly scratched the back of his head and chuckled.
“You know back on Altea every servant of the castle knew that code. So naturally, I knew it as well. So when I noticed a pattern to Number 2 and yours ‘nervous twitch’ as Number 5 called it, I knew immediately what it was. However, you two seem to be very fast at it and the few letters I could make out made no sense”.
“That might be because of the language difference. The communicator works on the voice but not on the translation of taps.”
“That would seem to be a very good reason. However, does it work across various languages?”
“If we knew the language. Why?”
“Well, my boy I believe that this code could greatly benefit the team in sticky situations and so…”
“I’m sorry Coran but Hunk and I chose not to teach the rest of the team for a reason”.
“I understand that my boy and that is not what I am asking. What I am asking is if I can teach you Altean so that you and Number 2 can communicate with me in cases of emergency”. Lance stops. He didn’t think about that. It would be useful to be able to communicate to the castle if he and Hunk are unable to talk and still be able to get help. He hesitates.
“It’s a good idea but I have to talk to Hunk. After all, we learned it together and it’s only fair if the same offer is made to him”. Lance refuses to leave Hunk in the dark.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, my boy. Now let’s finish this chore so that we can go ask Number 2 together”. Lance smiles and finishes the pod in record time.
“So he finally confronted us and instead of telling us to stop and talk out loud or to teach the team he wants to teach us how to be better at it”. Hunk says with amusement.
“That is the best way to summarize that yes”. Hunk hums and knocks.
(What do you think?)
(Honestly? I want to try it. Plus now we’ll learn Altean)
(True.)
(So you in?)
(Only if you are)
(Alright then). They look to Coran who looks bewildered that they seem to have come to a conclusion so fast. The duo looked at each other and nod.
“We would be glad to have you teach us, Coran”. Hunk says with a smile on his face.
The code works for everything. Hunk finds himself using it to gather his thoughts even if Lance isn’t in the room. He allows the knocks to speak for him when he feels he can’t. When conversations get too heavy and voice to cracked. The code remains steady and constant.
So when Keith slams into the living room next to the kitchen Hunk can’t help but knock on the counter.
(You okay?) He doesn’t get a response and considers leaving it alone. After all, perhaps Lance and him got into an argument and he’s just mad. But Hunk can feel that this is different. Serious.
He hears huffs of breaths and the rustle of clothing. After a bit, the huffs turn to quiet sobs. Okay, that’s not good. Keith never cries. Especially not in front of people. Did he not know Hunk was there?
(What happened?)
He walks into the room to see Keith curled into a ball sobbing. Hunk feels his heart go out to him. On the doorway, he knocks.
(Keith?)
Keith looks up with red puffy eyes and immediately tries to stop and wipe them away. It doesn’t work and now his face looks even worse. Hunk says nothing as he sits next to the boy. Keith just sobs harder putting his face into his hands. Hunk can tell Keith is trying to hold it in. His shoulders shake and tears fall to the floor. The stillness is filled with the cries. Hunk gently tries to wrap his arm around Keith in an attempt to comfort. Keith recoils for a slight second, then out of nowhere hugs Hunk. Hunk is surprised but hugs him back none the less.
“I-I don’t k-know what to d-do Hunk.” Hunk pats his back in a slight rhythm.
“The Blades w-want me to w-work for them c-constantly but S-s-Shiro looks so dis-disappointed”. Hunk’s heart breaks a bit. He pats in knock code. Keith won’t catch on or understand but Hunk can’t speak.
(You’re okay Shiro doesn’t blame you.)
“I’m w-worried that everyone h-hates m-me”
(We don’t hate you.)
“I-I only m-m-make p-people s-sad”. Hunk feels like the worst scum in the universe for not doing more.
(You don’t make me or Lance sad.)
“Lance hates me”
(That’s not…)
“All I do is hold Pidge back”.
(You mean keep her in check.)
“Why c-can’t I do anything right H-hunk?” How does Hunk respond to that? Keith is doing amazing. Better than he is. How is someone who does nothing right help someone who does things right do more things right? How does one explain this conundrum without sounding rude?
“T-the Blades are disappointed, Shiro’s disappointed, Allura’s mad and won’t talk to me. I w-wish I was never born half Galra. I w-wish I never b-born.” Keith sobs tears soaking Hunk shirt. Oh god, this is worse than he ever imagined. How long had it been since Keith just let this kind of stuff out? Had he ever?
There are a million things he wants to say and do. He wants to drill into the Blades what they’ve done, tell Shiro to lighten up, tell Keith everything he’s ever done right, that he would always be there for him because they’re brothers now.
But he can’t. Keith doesn’t see him the same way. In fact, this is the first time the two have really had a one on one conversation had with each other since the Weblum. Hunk knows Keith had abandonment issues and cares deeply about Shiro’s opinion on him. He knows that the only reason he’s not talking to Shiro right now is that he feels that Shiro is disappointed in him. That seeing him crying would only heighten the feeling. It’s bullshit but it doesn’t stop the feeling. Even if Hunk were to tell him such he wouldn’t be believed. Only actions would do that. Lance taught him that much.
If Lances uses the saying fake it till you make it then he’ll use knock it till it makes it. No, knock it till it locks it? It doesn’t matter he’ll use it. He so desperately wants it to come true so it has to. Right? So instead Hunk opts for knock coding a single sentence into Keith’s shaking back in hopes of it coming true.
(It’s ok)
(It’s ok)
(It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok)
(It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok)
(It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok) (It’s ok)
(At least it’s going to be)
(I’ll make sure of it Keith)
(Brother)
He pats Keith’s back in messages that the boy will never understand for who knows how long. Keith’s sobs quiet and Hunk can feel his voice returning. Keith looks to him while wiping his eyes. As if he’s searching for an answer. Hunk sighs.
“You won’t like it, but I really think you should talk to Shiro about how you feel”. Keith scowls but then just looks sad.
“It’s better to talk things out, to settle issues than to leave them alone and allow them to hurt you”. Keith’s lower lib wobbles a bit.
“I know it’s just I-I…” Hunk cuts him off.
“Don’t make excuses just deal with it and whatever happens, happens. But if it makes you feel better I highly doubt Shiro is disappointed in you”.
“Thank you Hunk”. Keith sniffles.
“No problem” You’re family, after all, Hunk can’t help but think. Keith gets off the couch and starts to head to the door.
“I hope you’re heading off to Shiro’s room and not yours”. Hunk comments. Keith let’s out a wet chuckle as he opens the door.
“Guess only one way to find out” and the door closes, leaving Hunk in a silence as the feelings of warmth start to fade. The thoughts start to come back. The feelings of doubt, of conundrums and loopholes Hunk, can’t seem to escape since entering space. He searches for a happy place in his memories. Of his mama, of the Mcclains. Only to find a dead grey. Impressions of lessons learned. He knows what happened but he can’t hear his mother’s lullaby. The proposition of not remembering sends him into a frenzy. He looks for any memory from Earth. Each one gets greyer than the last. The voices get worse, get sharper by the minute, they feel like knives stabbing at his heart. He feels water drip onto his face from an unknown source. His vision gets dark and the feelings of a panic surface.
Oh god, he’s an awful human being if he can’t even remember his own mother. Her voice. What is a human without their memories of humanity, of home, His breathing gets heavy and suddenly he doesn’t know what’s going on. He can feel a distant rumble from a familiar yellow. But that doesn’t make any sense and he can’t breathe. And soon the world is black.
He feels the imprints of hands on his shoulders. And he can make out a figure trying to talk to him. But he can’t understand them. God the silence is deafening. Then a feeling on his leg. Rhythmic. Steady. He can count them. He doesn’t know how but he knows he can count them.
1:2, 4:5, 1:4, 1:4, 5:4, line. He understands.
(Buddy?)
(You there?) He nods.
(You’re okay.)
(I’m here.)
(I’m not going anywhere.) The last thing Hunk remembers is the feeling of support, the imprint of the words tapped onto his leg, and the blue eyes that shine through the piercing black as he falls into a temporary sleep.
He dreams of a boy near the ocean. Of the conversation of their middle names as they watch the sunset. His middle name is Charles. His is Hunk. He looks to the sunset only to see grey. But he knows it’s beautiful. He knows the boy is talking, he understands the words, but he can’t hear him. He looks to see the two truths in this fading memory from so long ago. The boy’s eyes are a deep blue and that those eyes belong to his best friend. The panic fades even if for a short while.
Lance and Pidge are playing a game in his room. She’s beating him. Obviously but he’s having fun. She reminds him of one of his nieces. Little Mariposa. Both are fighters and both have a certain sass to them that make them undeniably fun to be around. Lance laughs as Pidge cheers victory.
He’s glad to see her happy. She’s gone through so much. Losing a father and brother then leaving her mother in an attempt to make her family home again. He can relate. He lost his father to a war and his mother to dementia. He’s made peace with the fact that they're gone. It was an adjustment to live with his uncle Charles in various parts of Europe. But, in the end, he loves his uncle. He even learned to shoot from him. Plus he still got to see Verando when then visited his older siblings. He didn’t lose everything. Well not with the death of his dad and loss of his mother's mind at least. With going into space, however, now that’s a completely different story.
But he had adjusted. He had Hunk and a space family. He only hoped Pidge felt at least a little bit similar. It would help her. If she ever needed help you can bet Lance would be there to help. He would even go as far as to say he would die for her. Now if that isn’t love he doesn’t know what is, he muses to himself.
“You up for another round?” He asks.
“Sorry, but I got work to do Matt is sending me new coordinates and I can’t wait to add them to our database”. Her eyes light up as she speaks. Lance smiles.
“That’s our Pidgeon always finding out new things”.
“You know it!” She says grabbing her stuff and rushing out of the room. Lance chuckles to himself. he hums in the comfortable silence of his room. Letting t be filled with the piece of future activities.
He foes to get up only to feel an unfamiliar presence to rush into his mind. He startles and trips. Growls and whines seem to fill his ears. Images of two figures hugging on the couch are shown. An image of one of the figures leaving the other to be swarmed with a thick black fog. A figure crying on a bed and another having a horrific nightmare if the feeling of fear is anything to go by. Everything seems to be in a yellow filter.
“Yellow?” A whine in his head and roar near the hangars. Lance knows immediately what’s wrong. He scrambles to get up and rushes out of the door heading for the living room. As he runs a stream of cusses fills his mind. He slides into the doorway and rushes into the living room. He sees Hunk on the couch eyes wide and tears falling.
Lance rushes into action grabbing Hunk’s shoulders very gently. He tries to get through the fog his mind created with voice alone. Lance realizes with a slight horror that Hunk is too far gone. He let’s go of Hunks shoulders and tries to think. The quiet sobs are cracking the happy mask he has built. Then he remembers the code. He gently slides over to Hunk as he can and taps out reassuring messages into his friend’s leg. Hunk is responsive to that. But it isn’t enough as Hunk soon faints, lance barely able to catch him.
He sets his best friend down and then he hears it. The voices of Shiro, Pidge, and Allura calling out for Hunk. The helmet is red. Keith’s. Lance gingerly picks up the Helmet and turns on the communicator.
“Oh Keith, thank God. Do you know where Hunk is Yellows freaking out and he’s not responding?”
“Actually Shiro this is Lance I’m with Hunk right now. Do you think you could get Coran to prepare a bed?” The silence that follows hurts. Then Pidges voice comes through cracked and scared.
“What happened? Is he hurt? Oh no no no”.
“Pidge it’s okay he just fainted. He’s perfectly fine. He just needs some sleep”.
“Where are you?” Shiro asks.
Yeah, you’re gonna need help carrying him to the med bay” Pidge adds. Lance can’t argue with that.
“Living room, I’ll be waiting”. Lance speaks shutting off the communicator. He looks back to Hunk and sits on the floor next to his buddy. Quietly tapping out reassurances. He can’t bring himself to smile. He needs only a moment to compose himself, but a few hours to truly calm himself down. He chuckles softly.
(Guess we’re both just a couple of messes. Right, Hunk.) He receives no response and Lance feels more alone than he has for months. He just has to keep the thought from getting to him till the team arrives. So he taps. Everything and anything. To fill the silence, and stay one step ahead of the Frostbite Thoughts.
(That’s a good name for it)
(Frostbite Thoughts)
Hah. He’ll have to write that down.