Work Text:
On the cusp of sleep, Keith jolts upright at a familiar yet out of place sound. The successful and tedious wind down from another recon mission is now completely undone as he shoves the covers off and leaps off the bed. But that doesn’t matter right now. Movements become frantic, and when his eyes hone in on the source of the noise they widen instantly. What he’s seeing makes no sense - especially at this hour or well, any hour.
His holopad is doing something it’s never done before - it’s ringing.
In one swift motion, he dives forwards to tug the holopad into his grasp. Lips are pushed together tight when he reads the text on the screen. No way. Hitching a breath, Keith stares down in confusion. Even more impossible, it’s an external call.
Back on earth, Keith didn’t even have a phone with credit until Shiro suggested he should get one so the Garrison could call him back and tell him when he’d start. Keith had ducked his head at that, barking out a laugh that ripped itself from his throat - brittle in the most betraying of ways. Shiro had been right though, the Garrison had called him and offered him that place. But from that point, to the day his entire world came crashing down with two devastating words, Keith had only ever received a handful of phonecalls.
So considering phonecalls were virtually unheard of on their home planet, and the only messages he gets now on the holopad are from Kolivan and therefore internal , receiving an external call is cause for curiosity. No, it’s concerning. Because there’s very few people who know about this line and have access to it, and they are all esteemed defenders of the universe. Voltron. It has to be from Voltron.
Accepting the call, Keith is greeted by yet another surprise. The screen comes into focus to reveal the yellow paladin pressing his thumbs together nervously. Those warm eyes are full of something restless, darting back and forth between each corner of the screen and refusing to settle. He’s wearing his pyjamas, sat in the dim light of a room that looks like the bedrooms of the castle. Despite what Keith sees, it still makes little sense.
“Uh, Hunk. Hey.” Head titling, Keith tries to catch Hunk’s eyes to no avail. He’s seen this kind of agitation before, in the belly of the weblum. Whatever is going on, Hunk is uncomfortable and for some reason he’s decided to call Keith in the height of it. Their eyes finally meet, and Hunk’s shoulders drop a fraction. It’s not a good sign. Rather than jumping straight into a question that could be invasive, Keith probes tentatively.
“Is-... everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” The response is way too fast, almost snappy in the haste to be delivered. Raising an eyebrow, Keith watches Hunk shuffle in his seat. Something twists in his lips, enough to highlight the blatant lie. Then comes a sigh, heavy and honest. It presses down on Hunk’s chest, pushing the next words out forcefully. “Actually, no.”
Sharp unwelcome dread coils uncomfortably in Keith’s ribs because that’s vague and that means something has something happened . Before he can enquire for more details, Hunk starts spewing words at a pace difficult to follow. It’s frantic and laced in a raw kind of fear that clasps its prey by the throat, squeezing hard enough to choke any coherent thought into oblivion. All that’s left is paranoia and restless intrusive hissing in ears saying things that can’t be true that’s not true . Keith knows this from experience, because more often than he’d care to admit it creeps up to catch him off-guard. There’s no way he can simply watch Hunk fall further into this and do nothing about it. Fighting it off alone is the hardest part.
“Have you got a minute? To just you know, talk about some stuff is all. If not that’s totally cool, I mean I - I know you’re super busy with super important secret-”
“-Hunk,” Keith says firmly. He goes unnoticed, Hunk's too swept up in his own storm now.
“-mission kind of things and I’m probably bothering you in your time off and it's probably not even that important so if you don’t want to that’s fine, I can-”
Keith grits his teeth around the word and spits it out in frustration. This rambling isn’t getting them anywhere. “Hunk!”
The sheer force behind his voice appears to be enough to bring Hunk’s verbal whirlwind to a complete stop. Realisation settles on Hunk’s face, fingers pushing together. Keith’s heart clenches at the sight of him withdrawing away from the screen, as if suddenly embarrassed and unsure. It’s all too familiar. Unnervingly so.
“You’re not bothering me, I’ve got time.” Voice softening now he is sure he’s being listened to, Keith perches on the edge of his bed. “Are you okay?”
Hunk is not remotely okay, that’s abundantly clear. But until Hunk himself gives more context, Keith has every chance of making this worse by saying something wrong or pushing too hard on things he shouldn’t. So he waits, fingers curling tighter around the holopad. Apprehension churns in his gut as the seconds stretch out between them. Words don’t come. And for a moment, Keith is sure the connection must’ve packed up because Hunk grows alarmingly still and vacant, as if completely frozen over. The fact the call is still going is not at all comforting. It just puts into perspective how helpless Keith really is here. Besides sitting here on his bed and listening, who knows how far from the castle of lions, words are all he can give. But Keith’s fully aware he has never been a great wordsmith. He tries; it doesn’t change the fact most people could probably do it better.
If anything, Keith is a connoisseur of action, prying the words out of gestures and forging sentences from the subtle sounds every movement brings. The rapid blink of his eyelids when overwhelmed which stutters out scrambled apologies, the folding of his arms which huffs lowly, the sharp hiss of a clenched jaw; it's a language few seem to understand. Frowning, Keith watches Hunk slump in his chair - a lamented defeat.
“Earlier today, we got a distress signal from planet Yarip a few jumps away. There’s sort of a war between the people of the mountain and the people of the forest. For hundreds of years, they’ve just been fighting about who should have control over things. And now, the forest people kind of - well they have the mountain queen hostage.”
Sitting up to attention, Keith listens carefully. This is a delicate situation, but a pressing one for these people. One wrong move, and that war could escalate into something they can never come back from. Exhaling sharply, Keith purses his lips. They’re out here fighting an intergalactic war, but all across the universe are battles ongoing that evade their attention. War is not a part of the universe Keith can accept or entertain, but it’s a fire that is so easily ignited and spread. To all corners, and all worlds.
Conflict is imminent, and the lack of it is not infallible. War sears itself into the starways and sets them ablaze with insatiable rage, etches itself into earth until the soil is charred and crumbling. And with it come destructive temptations: power; control. They further stoke these flames, kindle the heat beneath skin of those coerced until it erupts.
“They’ll set the queen free in exchange for aid and relief from Voltron. But only one of us can go in to make all of this happen and…” Hunk taps the table anxiously, face scrunching. “We weren’t allowed to pick who.”
Oh. It’s not difficult to piece this situation together. In all honesty, Keith does not like the idea of appeasing these people one bit. Voltron is a symbol, an impressionable one. Every moves it makes is written into the sky, spread across galaxies. But it’s hardly his place to question the way Team Voltron conduct themselves at the moment, or what they're doing. He trusts Shiro and Allura know what they’re doing. Logically, setting up a backup plan and following the demands is the first course of action that comes to mind. Protecting the queen and her people held to this ransom is top priority, and maybe if there’s a chance to establish a ceasefire that can come next. But not peace.
The word peace is paraded around so carelessly and with idealism that's dangerous. Even when Zarkon’s reign is finally over and the empire falls, Keith is certain peace will still be a far and foreign thing out of their reach.
This isn’t their war to fight technically - it’s Yarip’s war. Voltron will have to understand that one day, even if it’s difficult to process. I’m not saying I like the idea, I’m just thinking like a paladin. There are probably hundreds if not thousands of planets in a similar position, all who could be assisted and freed by Voltron. But that’s not how this works, it’s just not possible to uphold that. Because there is only one Voltron, and there are an infinite number of cries for help. No need to leave the math to Pidge on this one, even a quick glance reveals a cutting truth that haunts Keith in his sleep and cleaves him right open.
They can’t help everyone, not always.
Judging by the vacant look on Hunk’s face, Keith already can predict what’s happened. Brow furrowing, he leans forwards.
“They picked you.”
“Yeah…” Hunk confirms, immediately seeming uncomfortable again.
The urge to fold his arms is strong enough for Keith to rest the holopad against his pillow and sit cross-legged on the bed so he can do just that. Pressing his eyes shut, he sifts through the information. The people chose the yellow paladin, and the team have undoubtedly finalised their plans whilst heading to the location. It’s reassuring at least to know Allura will refuse to put Hunk in a situation where they can’t step in to offer emergency support. However they go about it, the team will be ready to deploy Voltron if demands are broken. That’s how it’s been in the past, anyway. From what Keith can tell, there’s no reason that would change. Eyes snap open, abruptly clipping his train of thought in the process. Just stewing over the scenario is too much. There’s every chance he isn’t even supposed to know about any of this.
“Do the others know you’re calling?” he asks, already knowing the answer to the question.
In truth, Keith just wants confirmation of where he stands. Overstepping into Voltron’s affairs is not what he wants to do, and it’s just not his place anymore. Worse, he could be stamping on Shiro’s toes as leader when he’s no longer even a paladin. But Hunk is clearly troubled by this situation, enough to call Keith as opposed to seek out two of his closest friends or anyone on his team. So Keith’s input must count for something, even if he’s a third party.
The detachment stings.
Keith’s question sparks Hunk back into an animated spiel.
“I know I shouldn’t have called you, Keith. Okay - so here’s the thing to be honest I didn’t really even want to but then it sort of just happened and that - is that bad? That’s probably really bad. No, it is bad that’s super bad and rude, Keith I’m sorry. Please don’t take that personally, it’s not because I don’t want to talk to you or anything although yeah I haven’t called up until this point but I just wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do and you always seem so sure about everything. But now I’ve put you in a really uncomfortable position and-”
“Hunk. You’re a paladin of Voltron,” Keith begins tactfully. Any attempts at remaining a third party withers on his tongue, however. One look at the vulnerable, uncertain expression that grows with every passing second decides it for him. Hunk doesn’t need his assistance as a warrior in a war or some kind of unbiased adviser - he just wants the reassurance of a friend. Unexpectedly, he’s come to Keith. It’s touching, in a way that bruises because this is new.
“And one of the smartest people I know.” Cracking a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, Keith continues. He hopes it’s encouraging. “If anyone can figure this thing out, it’s you and that big brain.”
Hunk looks unconvinced. Mind reeling, Keith scrambles for more to say. This isn’t his speciality, but every word he says he means. It’s sincere. Hunk has to know that.
“Yellow is lucky to have you, and so are the team.” Averting his gaze, Keith hums. “That’s not gonna change all of a sudden.”
With a huff, Hunk tilts his chin up. Okay. This isn’t going as planned but it’s too late to abort. Whatever nerve Keith has accidentally trodden on, it’s a big one. “Well, yeah. That’s easy for you to say.”
A bitter bite that doesn’t belong there has Keith flinching, and all he gets out of that sentence is one word.
Easy.
That has something wild clawing its way into Keith’s chest and burrowing there. Easy. Narrowing his eyes, Keith struggles to suppress the budding frustration. One thing he tolerates time and time again are assumptions thrown his way, but it doesn’t mean he’s happy to accept them. He’s just trying to help, and his efforts being trampled all over isn't exactly appreciated. This is far from easy, or pleasant. All of it. From the universe pulling strings and orchestrating chaos at every corner, to him leaving the team, to carving purpose into each day avidly, to Shiro being plucked out of life and displaced over and over again.
Swallowing down that admission before it breaks over him, and potentially breaks more than his bones in the process, Keith grinds his teeth together. The universe isn’t fair or kind. But Hunk is. There is no way it can systematically strip that away. Hot fiery fumes emanate from between his ribs as Keith exhales. Hunk's emotionally compromised right now, and Keith's not too far behind. As he blinks rapidly, the moisture collecting there reveals too much. He’s not just frustrated by this - he’s upset. More than expected. Words aren't supposed to hurt that much, but they do.
Despite his best efforts to endure, they always have.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith counters as best he can through the lump in his throat. It manages to sound bold enough to carry without a tremor.
Keith is to the point, direct and the embodiment of imperatives. And okay yeah, sometimes the intensity and insistence renders his tone prickly when time works against him - but he endeavours not to make things personal or deliberately piercing. Blunt without being malicious. Hunk’s words by comparison can be careless in delivery, no reserve. When he’s upset or irritated, they’re parcelled up in a way that can really pack an unpleasant punch. With emotions running high, Hunk is all too capable of words that can deal cataclysmic blows.
That’s cold even for you.
“You don’t have a lion anymore, Keith. You’re not even here. So how can you know how things are?”
That’s it. Composure falters under the strain, poorly held together from the outset. As it shatters, there’s nowhere for the fire nestled inside the jagged shards to go other than outward. Climbing up his spine, pooling in his eyes. It surrounds Keith, adding extra heat to his voice.
“Look, Hunk.” He clenches a fist whilst leaning forwards. This is unfair and unwarranted. And despite the flash of remorse in Hunk’s eyes, it doesn’t negate what’s been said. “You’re getting yourself worked up about this and that - that isn’t helping anything. I don’t know what you expect me to say, but I - I’m not Lance, or Pidge, and -” I’m not like you Shiro, I can’t lead them like you. Clamping his eyes shut, Keith winces. Even now, he can’t seem to get this right. Damn this.
“I’m... I’m here, ” he breathes, voice raspy and splintering at the seams. These words are tough to digest, even tougher to speak up against. “If that’s not enough, then... I can go. But you’re the one who called. Not me.”
Simmering down with immediate effect, Hunk cups his face with his hands in dismay. The anguish must be mangled too visibly over Keith’s contorted expression, because the yellow paladin yields. Then he’s sniffling, and bringing his sleeve to wipe his eyes and no. Hunk is crying. Maybe he’s crying because of Keith. That merely coaxes the tears poking his own eyes to build, harder to dismiss.
“Sorry,” Keith blurts breathlessly. “Sorry, I- Hunk-”
“-No, Keith,” Hunk interjects, and the conviction is surprising. “You’re right. I called you and I’m sorry I got snappy. What I said was really mean. I’m just scared I’ll mess this up, you know? This is kind of a big deal. Everyone is counting on me to do this and I don’t know if I can.”
"You can," Keith manages to manoeuvre around a horrible lurching sensation in his stomach. Barely.
Everyone is counting on me to do this and I don't know if I can.
That’s familiar. Involuntarily, the black lion flashes across his eyelids with each blink. Laughing humourlessly, Keith leans back on the bed. It’s less of a laugh, more of a strangled noise that barely makes it out. His hands are trembling, visceral emotions rampaging against every inch of him. Exhaustion plagues him, without respite or sympathy for the situation. Head resting against the wall, Keith glances down at the screen. The line goes quiet, save for their collective wet breaths laden with the aftermath of unshed tears.
Hunk breaks it gently. The warmth returns with his words and Keith melts into it so willingly, chases it. This is now Hunk at his brightest, and the true colours of his words blaze a brilliant yellow.
“It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a lion, that doesn’t change anything. You actually are one.”
Bemused, Keith raises an eyebrow. He’s pretty sure he’s part human and part Galra. Lions have nothing to do with it.
"You're brave and strong. Plus when we first got to know each other I used to think you were really scary, especially that time yellow and I barged into you and you roared at me.”
Recalling the memory, Keith’s lips twitch.
“I didn’t roar.”
“Uh, yeah you did.” Hunk folds his arms, tension fully ebbing away as their conversation meanders. The frenzied demeanour from earlier has subsided. It’s possible, like Keith, Hunk’s worn and weary - he doesn’t have much left to give. “Lions roar, Keith.”
“I’m not a lion.” That’s just ridiculous. “Besides, we were under heavy fire. You literally rammed right into Red. ”
The low lighting softens the curves of Hunk’s face. It makes it harder to tell if there’s really a smile lingering there or not.
“Okay, so it was not the best plan. But my point still stands - Keith, you’re a lion and I’m not. I’m just…“ Cradling the holopad in his hands, Keith watches Hunk bow his head. It’s not dejected, merely grim acceptance. “I’m not.”
How in the world Hunk, one of the majestic and sturdy legs of Voltron, can not see his own strength and courage Keith does not know. But it’s wrong. So very wrong.
“Sometimes the truth just hurts, you don’t have to try and make it better.”
He does. He absolutely does. Keith isn't here to throw a pity party or advocate planning one. Part of him is inclined to list all of Hunk’s incredible qualities in alphabetical order, but that could unintentionally reduce their importance or trivialise it. Instead, he settles for something succinct yet sincere. It’s the best thing Keith can offer, perhaps the only thing. Steeling himself, he takes a breath. Here goes nothing.
“Allura said the yellow lion was caring and kind and -... something about the pilot having a mighty heart.” It’s been some time since the rise of Voltron. Keith can’t remember the exact words but the intent behind them is what counts here. “Yellow chose well. I don’t think there’s anyone in the universe more suited. The people will see that too.”
Cheeks flooding with heat, Keith ducks his head He’s no good at this, and his best efforts might not be enough. Hunk’s voice says otherwise. From the holopad he speaks, awed and completely enraptured. Lifting his head, Keith spots the radiant gleam in those eyes. Whilst he won’t take credit for putting it back there, it’s certainly worth celebrating.
“You think so?”
Nodding firmly, Keith doesn’t break their gaze. “Yeah.”
What unfolds between them is open and raw. It has Keith’s breath hitching. Their eyes search each other languidly, and even through the holopad it’s exposure in a terrifying way. Despite that, neither pulls back from this. The moment lingers long enough for Keith to count a dozen heartbeats rattling in his chest.
Then it’s gone, replaced with the sleepy haze settling over the pair of them. Hunk stifles a yawn, stretching his arms out.
“You’re still a lion to me.”
It shouldn’t be so endearing, but it is. Adjusting the pillows on the bed, Keith leans back against them. His eyes are heavy, threatening to close any second.
“If I’m a lion, then you’ve gotta be a...” he trails off, unsure where he’s going with this. It’s a recipe for disaster. Keith seldom does metaphors, doesn’t beat around the bush when he speaks. “A chimera or - or something.”
“Keith.” Smoothing his hands across the desk, Hunk adopts all the seriousness of a judge preparing to offer their most anticipated feedback “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, I really do, but chimeras aren’t real.”
“You sure about that?” Keith whispers conspiratorially before he can stop himself. He bites down a smirk as Hunk gasps. Leaning closer to the screen, the yellow paladin pokes at it.
“I knew it, I knew it! You're one of those people.” It's offhanded, but Hunk's interest is piqued.
“That’s interesting.” Keith confirms or denies nothing about one of the interests he may or may not have had before getting sucked into this colossal war. “Because I - I thought you said I was a lion...”
“Wow,” Hunk smiles wide, unable to stifle the laughter bubbling up. “Blade of Marmora Keith is even funnier than Galra Keith and regular Keith combined.”
At that, Hunk earns himself a well-deserved eye roll. But there’s a smile tucked into the corner of Keith’s mouth, seeping slowly over his lips. Scanning Hunk’s face for any signs of distress, Keith is pleased to find none. Yet still for good measure, he asks.
“Hey,” voice hushed, Keith pulls the holopad closer. “You gonna be okay?”
The resounding hum is mellow, soothing in a way that’s not entirely tangible. Yawning for real this time, Hunk shrugs. It’s difficult not to mimic that, with sore bones and aching muscles yearning for the sleep Keith has missed out on.
“I will - thanks to a friend of mine. Man, I can’t wait to hug them super super tight and make them whatever they want to eat when we next meet.”
“Hm,” smiling at the thought, Keith adjusts the holopad as he flops down on the bed. It’s been a long day, and this has been quite the phonecall. He can feel the pressure in his bones, yearning for some respite. “They’re pretty lucky to have a friend like that.”
Before the screen cuts out and goodbyes are exchanged, Hunk beams. And nothing prepares Keith for this, he doubts nothing ever could.
.
.
.
.
“Yeah, I am.”