Work Text:
— Day 3: Make-up
Keith was mad, boiling with it, anger searing up and down his arms, his jaw clenched hard enough to hurt, and he glared at the man he loved, honestly glared at him, and wanted nothing more than to just not be looking at him right now. Hunk wasn’t any better, pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb, even though he knew Keith hated it when he did that when they were arguing, and it made it so much worse, because Hunk knew how it made Keith feel, and he was doing it anyway. It just cemented, in Keith’s mind, that they were having a real, honest-to-God argument right now, and Hunk thought he was right and Keith was too mad to care anymore, because Hunk was pulling that pose he hated and maybe he hated Hunk a little right now too, by proxy.
“I can’t-” He ground out, and felt victorious when Hunk lifted his head and stopped rubbing his face like Keith was a bad headache and not his partner of three years. “I can’t fucking deal with this right now,” He managed out through his teeth, because even though Hunk had stopped making that bullshit pose Keith was still upset about it, still pissed off enough to swear harshly even though he knew Hunk thought it was disgusting, because hey; hadn’t he been the one to start acting like Keith was disgusting first? Pinching his nose like Keith was stinking up the place or some fucking bullshit like that-
Keith stormed out of the kitchen, ignoring Hunk’s indignant, slightly outraged remark, and went out into the backyard; he didn’t slam the door, but he closed both of them firmly, even though he knew he’d set the lock 40 minutes ago, and so he’d effectively locked himself out of the house.
Fuck.
Keith paced up one end of the back porch, but the wood was too loud under his angry footsteps for his liking; sure, he’d left, but he didn’t want Hunk to know he was agitated about it by hearing his steps. He jumped off the back stairs and into the yard. There was a swing set; Hunk had claimed he just wanted to try building one, but he was too thrilled when all his nieces and nephews played on it for anyone to believe him. He went and sat on it, even though the plastic seat was cold and a little wet, just to make a point. Sure, Hunk had built it, but it was pretty much his little niblings, so Keith decided it was neutral territory.
Besides, it was uncomfortable, and Keith hoped that Hunk was thinking about how uncomfortable he was while he himself was still inside, because Keith was still seething a little.
Keith blanked for a moment, too angry for words, too angry to even think about what he was angry about, and he just sat, and stared stubbornly at the ground, because looking up at the stars was for happier times. He wanted to be mad, and to stay mad. This wasn’t a moment for a beautiful night sky. This was a time for anger and dirt and all the nasty, wriggling insects that lived in it, and he let the moments drag on as he stewed.
God, it was just that… Hunk was just so arrogant sometimes! As soon as he knew he was right, he’d just go on and on and on about it; he’d just never shut up! Keith was so sick of his attitude sometimes. And he always wanted to hang out with their friends! Sure, it wasn’t a bad thing, sometimes, just sometimes, but maybe Keith didn’t want to go over to Lance’s apartment every weekend and deal with the guy, but no, that made Keith the bad guy, because there was nothing exhausting about dealing with Lance damn McCain every single weekend for the rest of his life.
Keith kicked his foot a little, and was satisfied when he swung a bit on the swing. He was mad, mad as anything at Hunk right now, but he wasn’t going anywhere. They had a protocol for this sort of thing, and as much as Keith would like nothing more than to grab his motorbike keys and drive fast down the dark, empty roads, he wasn’t going to. Even if he’d feel better faster, because he was doing something Hunk didn’t like him to. Hunk was doing something he didn’t like him to do, too, so wouldn’t that be fair?
It wouldn’t and Keith knew it, so he stayed put. When they got into fights, they didn’t leave until they told each other ‘I love you’ again. Until they could stand to tell each other ‘I love you’ again. The yard was fine, front or back, and sitting in vehicles was alright, but even going down the street a little bit was taboo. They didn’t leave before they told each other ‘I love you’. They didn’t even sleep before they told each other ‘I love you’. They didn’t, because if something happened, and Keith hadn’t heard Hunk say ‘I love you’ to him, or if he hadn’t said it to Hunk, then… Keith just couldn’t. He couldn’t even consider that.
Since he loved Hunk. He knew he wasn’t perfect, either; Hell, he’d just blown up in there and expected Hunk to take it. Maybe it was because it was cold out tonight, or maybe he was tired of having a slightly damp ass already, but Keith felt the fight fizzle out of him pretty quick.
It helped than he’d heard the lock click on the back door.
Keith still stayed outside, though. Just for a few seconds. To let Hunk know that he really was upset. Had been upset. Possibly also to make sure he was as not-angry as he was going to be.
Finally, Keith got sick of it. Himself, mostly. He forced himself to look at his right hand, made himself touch and turn the smooth, red metal, vicious-looking and badass, and watched as it spun with just the right amount of give, practically gliding. It was beautiful, and he loved it, and Hunk had made it just for him. It meant more than any gold ring, because it wasn’t like they could marry, and Keith thought that this beautiful, smooth metal ring, that he actually used constantly when he was overstimulated and stressing, was even better.
Besides, he couldn’t stand how thick gold bands like that felt on his fingers. It was too distracting.
Keith got to his feet, reoriented himself (had he really been sitting there for that long?), and trudged back to the house. Their house. That he and Hunk lived in together.
Hunk wasn’t waiting for him, he could see as he opened the door, and before he could decide how he felt about that, he smelled it.
Bread pudding.
It was milk and sugar and sultanas on layers of sliced white bread, and it was quick and hot and delicious and Hunk had made it for him, because when he came through to the kitchen it was sitting on the bench, still steaming.
Keith got two spoons and bowls, then scooped a generous amount in one and enough for himself in the other, then stuck the spoons in and headed upstairs. He went slowly, and when he heard Hunk in his home office he headed there slower still. Maybe he didn’t want Hunk to hear him. Maybe he didn’t want to see Hunk just yet. He refused to decide for sure, because he didn’t trust his quick, stupid temper, and he was going to do this.
The door was ajar. Keith pushed it open with his shoulder.
Hunk was sitting in his desk chair, facing the wall between the gap of the window and his desk. He looked up when Keith entered, but he didn’t smile. Keith didn’t read into that; he’d obviously been watching Keith when he’d been outside, and waiting for him to come upstairs to him when he returned to the house.
He carried the bowls over and put Hunk’s down in front of him. “Thank you,” He added quietly, before propping his hip against the edge of the desk.
Hunk shrugged. Keith knew he was thinking about how sometimes he baked when he was upset, and Keith had upset him, and he hadn’t made it with Keith in mind for good reasons, maybe, but Keith didn’t care. He was tired. He wanted to go to bed. He wanted to tell Hunk he loved him, then go to bed, and Hunk would join him later.
When Hunk took his bowl, Keith started eating, spooning the rapidly cooling pudding into his mouth while not looking at Hunk. Hunk didn’t look at him, either, but they ate together, even though Keith didn’t like it when Hunk ate in his work space and Hunk didn’t like it when he ate standing up.
Hunk finished first, and Keith risked a glance at him as he put his bowl down again. He decided then; he didn’t like how unhappy Hunk looked. He didn’t do anything about it just yet. He finished his food, Hunk staring out the window as he did.
Finally, he put his bowl down and stared openly at Hunk. Slowly, Hunk turned his head back and caught his eye again.
“I’m tired,” Keith told him, honestly. “I want to go to bed. I want to tell you I love you, and then go to bed.”
Hunk nodded. Once, and only once, during an even worse fight, Hunk had just shrugged, like he was asking Keith what he should do about it, like he didn’t care, and it had set Keith off all over again. He’d thrown a cup. Hunk had shouted. Hunk had almost tried to use his greater size to intimidate Keith while Keith had almost actually hit him, and it had been so, so ugly, and it was probably their only fight that would have gone better if one of them had left the house.
But they hadn’t, because they wanted to make this work, and they both tried to show it, even though they’d been furious with each other at the time. Keith had started their row up again while Hunk had been on the phone to Lance, and he’d freaked and called Keith’s older brother Shiro. The both of them had come over to try and convince one of them to leave for a bit, and then Keith had lashed out verbally at everyone present, and Hunk wouldn’t abide by Keith treating their loved ones like that, and Lance wouldn’t just let himself be insulted, and Shiro had wanted him to do what he was told.
Then someone called the cops on them.
That had been ugly.
This was ugly, too, of course, and Keith felt like shit, raw and jagged, and he knew Hunk felt even worse, because Hunk was all heart, soft and gentle, and Keith had bruised it. But it wasn’t as ugly as that time, and he knew that Hunk knew that Keith was hurting, too. He knew some of the upset in Hunk’s face was him regretting his own part.
Keith spun his ring. Hunk caught the action and looked down at his hand for a moment, and seemed less unhappy when he looked up at Keith again.
Keith pushed off the desk at that, and reached for Hunk, and Hunk got up out of his chair and they pulled each other close.
“I love you,” he said quietly, gratified to feel Hunk’s arms around him; when he closed his eyes, it felt larger than life and just perfect.
“I love you, Keith,” Hunk said back, and pressed his mouth to the top of Keith’s head, and Keith… didn’t feel mad anymore. He just didn’t. he felt relieved.
When he went to bed that night, he didn’t wake up when Hunk joined him, but he did, and he woke up to Hunk grunting; “Turn off your alarm we were up ‘til two-thirty,” and Keith did, and then Hunk muttered; “Good morning I love you,” and Keith tugged at pillows until he found Hunk’s face and kissed it.
“Hey Hunk?"
“Mm?”
“I woke up in love with you today.”
He got tugged into another kiss. It was a good morning.