Chapter Text
Hunk sighed as he looked off into the asteroid belt. One minute. He needed them to wait one minute to take him to his lion. He set his bag down and sighed again. His comms crackled.
“—nk, Hunk, can you read me?” Pidge’s voice was muffled and distorted, but unmistakable.
“I read you.” Hunk frowned at the weird color the local sun was giving off. Was that some kind of storm? “What’s your ETA?”
“A lot more than a tick. I’m sorry, but with that storm, I can’t come get you and your lion. It seems like the electricity is messing with them. Yours is reading as out of commission, probably until the storm passes.”
“Will I be okay?” Hunk asked, grimacing. He pressed one fist to his sternum. “Pidge, that storm won’t kill me, right? It’s just the lions that are affected?”
Hunk waited for a response. And waited.
And waited.
Static.
“Great, just great. First my ride, then my comms, and now I’m gonna die here on an asteroid in the middle of nowhere!” He kicked a stone, stubbing his toe in the process. Just his luck.
As he was considering sitting down to wait it out (hopping on one foot and clutching the injured one), he heard a long string of what he thought might be cursing coming from the other side of a large outcropping of rock. He hesitated. It didn’t sound… directly threatening.
He released his foot and started to bite his thumbnail. Lance would go over and introduce himself. And if the alien was feminine, he’d flirt. The problem would be solved eventually, though Hunk was usually the one who actually tried first.
And they all wanted him to open up more. Be more trusting! Not everyone is out to get you! Give them the benefit of the doubt!
Hunk heaved a sigh and shouldered his bag again. He would give whoever it was the benefit of the doubt like they all wanted. If he was right not to trust anyone, he could rub it in when he got back. If he got back. He shook his head, trying to focus.
When he rounded the outcropping, he tried to understand what he was looking at. There was a fire, thanks to the oxygen-rich atmosphere of the asteroids they were on. There was an alien standing over the fire with something that resembled a frying pan, except for all the ways in which it was clearly not a frying pan. The alien seemed to be trying to cook.
Hunk took another step forward, his boot scraping against a rock, making a sound. The alien spun around.
He was about Hunk’s height, maybe a little shorter. He was wearing a uniform of some kind, something fancy Hunk had never seen before. He was also, most importantly, Galran. Large feline ears, yellow eyes, purple fur. Classic Galra.
They looked at each other for a long time, neither saying anything. Hunk considered running. There was no guarantee that this man knew who he was, but there was no guarantee he didn’t. He could be working with the rebellion, or the empire, or just a citizen. Hunk knew nothing about him, except that he was Galran and a poor cook.
He should run. But that would make him look guilty if he didn’t know. So he should stay, but it could be a trap to incapacitate Voltron. So he should—
“Do you know how to cook over a fire?” Hunk startled at the interruption. “It’s only that—well, I was never the camping type, you see. I can cook over a stove without much difficulty, but…” He looked down at the fire, frustrated and hopeless.
Hunk could feel himself give in. He didn’t seem like a bad person at first glance. And not all Galras were evil. He liked Keith most of the time, and that Galra commander had saved their lives twice, once at the cost of his own. He put on a smile and rolled up his sleeves.
“Hand me that, would you? I think you’re holding it wrong.”
The man frowned, but did as he was asked. “You think?”
“Well, I’ve never used one of these, exactly, but my planet has a similar tool. I think. They seem to function the same way, anyway. We’ll see.” Hunk glanced down at the contents of the pan. He grimaced. “Do you have any spices?”
“What?”
“This is going to taste really bland, whatever it is. What supplies do you have?”
The man took everything out of his bag, one thing at a time, and held them up for Hunk’s consideration. Hunk added a few things to the pan, and threw in his own spices from the local outpost’s marketplace.
All the while, they chatted about nothing in particular. This and that, things they’d seen in the area, the types of people they’d met. They skirted anything that might say too much and stuck to little things. The guy was pretty funny, and he laughed at Hunk’s puns as if they were hilarious and not absurdly lame. Hunk’s smile felt a lot easier than it had at the beginning.
He hoped he was one of the good ones. He kind of liked him.
Finally, Hunk declared the meal complete. He pulled the pan thing off the fire and glanced over his shoulder at his dinner companion. “Do you have anything to eat off of?”
The man beamed. “I have plates and cutlery.”
Everything was served up without any incident. Hunk took his first bite, closing his eyes to consider the flavor. Pretty good. A little too much of the spice probably. He’d have to remember how potent it was for next time.
When he opened his eyes, the Galra was looking at his plate like he’d just discovered some incredible secret of the universe. He took another bite and another. He looked like he was having a religious experience. He kept eating, eyes never leaving the plate. Hunk was about to ask if he was okay when his head shot up and his glowing eyes locked onto Hunk’s.
“This is the best meal I’ve ever had,” he said, earnest and intense. “You’re the best chef I’ve ever met. You made this out of some of the cheapest ingredients I’ve seen.”
Hunk smiled with an equal mix of discomfort and pride. His cheeks felt a little warm. He’d never been the subject of that kind of gaze before, powerful and just shy of too much. “Thank you? I like to cook, so I’m used to experimenting with foods I don’t recognize.”
“Wait,” the man frowned, “you didn’t know what you were cooking with?”
Hunk shook his head. “I usually don’t. Like I said, I experiment a lot. I’m something of a gourmet.”
The man seemed to melt, eyes going soft and warm, his posture going lax. He sighed. “You’re a dream come true. The perfect man.”
Hunk laughed, startled. “What?”
“You’re funny, handsome, a great chef—you helped me even though you have no idea who I am. You’re the best chef—no, the best person I’ve ever met.” He nodded to himself as if coming to a decision. “Do you need a job?”
“Do I—What?”
“Do you need a job? I’m in the market for a new chef. My current chef just can’t compare.”
“Oh, wow, I’m—I’m flattered, but I already have a job. It’s kind of important, but I really appreciate the offer.” Hunk smiled, scratching the back of his head.
“You really don’t know who I am, do you,” the man said. He looked inexplicably fond and amused. “How cute. Yes, I’m definitely going to keep you.”
Hunk felt dread settle at the pit of his stomach. “Excuse me?”
The man smiled, slow and threatening. “You heard me. I phrased it as a job offer, but I should be clear. That was my mistake. You’re going to come home with me and become my personal chef. I won’t allow you to refuse me.” He laughed a little, like the thought of a refusal was completely ridiculous, silly even. “Now, eat up. The storm should be dying down, so I’ll call my men here shortly. And then we can go home.”
Hunk stood slowly, frowning. “My home isn’t with you. My friends are going to pick me up, and then I will go home with them. It was fun talking with you, and I’m glad you liked my food, but I have a job to do. I won’t be leaving with you.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. He looked more and more dangerous by the minute. Hunk began to consider his options, running through different escape plans when he felt his lion come back into commission. Before he could say or do anything, he could feel it coming to him.
“Hunk, do you read?”
Hunk backed away. “I read you. My ride is on its way?”
“Sure is, buddy,” Lance said brightly. “You okay? You sound a little stressed.”
“That’s because I am,” Hunk said. The man was still watching him. He looked angry.
“Is that your friend?” he spat.
“One of them,” Hunk agreed. “It’s been… fun, but I’m afraid I have to leave now. Thanks for the food.” Hunk scooped his bag up and started to run. He was a little surprised that the man let him go without pursuing him, but Hunk decided not to think about that. Run first, ask questions later.
By the time he was in his lion safe and sound, he felt drained. As he flew away, he felt like he could sense the man still looking at him. He shivered. The one time he trusts someone and they turn out to be some kind of high level empire Galra intent on—on keeping him, whatever that meant.
He was never going to trust a stranger ever again.