Draft Dump
In an effort to clean out my drafts, here’s a tiny little Lance/Hunk soft fic that I will never finish.
It’s not an uncommon occurrence, but at the same time it’s been while. With the Voltron and Galra and their constant, breakneck schedule, there’s been few minutes for rest. Fewer for this.
But tonight Lance needs it. He’s feeling itchy and unsettled, so he slinks through the dark halls to Hunks room.
He’s keyed to the door, so he lets himself in. There’s no use in waking Hunk if he’s already asleep.
And sure enough as Lance pads into the bedroom there he is, on his back and snoring gently. It catches at Lances edges, starts to smooth him.
Gently as he can, he climbs in bed and sidles up beside him.
“Hm?” Hunk mumbles, turning to blink blearily at him. “Oh hey honey,” he says.
It’s half a joke, Lance knows, and yet that coupled with how Hunk opens his arms for him makes his stomach swoop.
It’s like coming home.
He always forgets how this is. Blocks it out maybe so he’s not crawling into this bed daily. But as Hunk throws an arm around his waist and pulls him in, it’s near bliss.
Hunks warm and huge and he nuzzles into Lances neck. It feels safe, like finally Lance can put down whatever he’s been carrying.
He didn’t even realize he was so wound up. He sighs and collapses into the bed, Hunk makes a sound of inquiry.
“I always forget,” Lance says, voice low. “Your beds so nice.”
“Yeah.” There’s a pause and Lance thinks he’ll let it go, and then, “what’s up?”
Not always, but often enough for Hunk to ask, something distressing drives Lance here. A bad battle, homesickness, the empty howl of space.
This time it’s everything and nothing. “I just…” it’s hard to put into words. “I needed this,” he says instead of explaining, reaching down to touch the large hand spanning his waist.
—
“It’s okay,” hunk says. He’s close, so close he blocks out everything else. He’s not pinning Lance, but he may as well be for how immovable Lance feels. A gentle hand touches his cheek.
“Hunk.”it’s a breath of a sound.
Hunk hums. He traces down to Lances mouth.
The moment spins and lengthens. It’s warm between them. Hunk is still propped up above him, but the portion of his weight on Lance is steadying.
It doesn’t feel scary when he leans closer. It feels inevitable.
It’s not a kiss first. They’re just… so close they’re sharing the same air. And then Lance arches up that last tiny bit.
Soft. He could sigh at the pleasure of it. Maybe he does. Hunks fingers scale back into his hair.
It’s a tender kiss, delicate, familiar even though it’s the first. Hunk kisses him with his whole attention, with that warm affection he brings to everything he does.
And Lance is undone by it.