Something Not Subtle

by Forest

WEP owns Voltron. Thanks and apologies to JoAnn. Thanks for betaing and for half-inadvertently coming up with the title. Apologies because I was too lazy to take advantage all of her excellent suggestions. The ending is rather abrupt. I just wanted this thing off my desktop. Fluff.

The movie had ended, and now only a blank blue screen lit the room. Not the most entertaining view, but Hunk couldn't move to change it, because Pidge had fallen asleep leaning against him. That wouldn't have been a problem, but… Before the boy had toppled over, Hunk had stretched his arm along the couch. And, over the course of the movie, that grew uncomfortable, so he had dropped his arm around the slight, sleeping form of his friend. That wouldn't have been a problem either, but…

He liked it. The feeling of embracing Pidge. His best friend. That was a problem.

Then things got infinitely worse.

Pidge stirred in his sleep, shifting his slight weight, and his hand dropped right into Hunk's lap. Hunk tensed, and heard Pidge's breathing change as he returned to consciousness. "Hunk?" he muttered sleepily.

"Movie's over, squirt."


Pidge didn't make any effort to sit up. In fact, he nestled even deeper against Hunk's side. Then that hand, the one on Hunk's thigh, started moving. Those small, delicate fingers lightly curled and extended, caressing in a motion that reminded him of a cat kneading in contentment.

Hunk's eyes squeezed shut with the effort of stifling his body's reaction to the all-too-pleasurable sensation.

"Hey. Wake up." He grumbled, shrugging his shoulder forward to dislodge his sleepy friend.

But Pidge just smiled slightly. "I am awake. But I'm comfortable. Stop moving."

Oh no. No chance of that. "Come on, Pidge. Time for bed."

"No." And the hand that had been caressing his thigh came up as Pidge wrapped his arm around Hunk and pulled himself even closer, resting his head now against Hunk's chest instead of his shoulder. He sighed contentedly and settled into the new position.

"Pidge, I am not a pillow."

"Pity. You're really good at it." Pidge's speech was still sleep-muffled, but there was a distinctively mischievous tone coming through it now. Hunk didn't even want to imagine what that imported. But he didn't really feel like shaking off the warm body curled against him, so he relaxed and settled back into the couch. Then the hand, now wrapped around him, started lazily stroking his side. He grabbed it.

"Stop that." he growled.

"Why? You ticklish?" There was definitely mischief in Pidge's voice now, and he no longer sounded sleepy.

Hunk snorted and released Pidge's hand. "Like I'd tell you if I was."

"Hm. That means you are." Hunk was momentarily relieved as Pidge pulled back the arm he'd wrapped around him, but the relief was short-lived. Pidge's hand dropped back to his thigh and started drawing lazy patterns there. This was awkward. This was beyond awkward. Hunk was starting to get the suspicion that Pidge knew exactly what he was doing.



"What are you doing?"

"If you didn't know, you wouldn't have asked."

Hunk ground his teeth in response to his friend's evasive logic. "Stop it."

Pidge pulled back, but his response wasn't the one Hunk expected. "Why?"


Pidge sighed patiently. "Why do you want me to stop?"

"Because you're... not old enough!"

"You know better." Pidge scolded. And he was right. Baltonian bodies were different than Terrans, plain and simple. Not a matter of age or maturity. "Is that your only reason?"

"Isn't that enough?"


"Then that's not my only reason."

"What else? If you're not attracted to me, then say so."

"....I'm not attracted to you."



Pidge smirked. "Hunk, I'm not an idiot, and you're not subtle. Neither is that." and he pointed vindictively between Hunk's legs.

Hunk leaped to his feet and took a few quick steps away, blushing furiously, searching for an argument.

"Look. Up here," he tapped his forehead with a thick finger, "I know you're my age. But when I look at you, I see a kid. And only sick people are attracted to kids."

Pidge pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees, regarding Hunk thoughtfully. "But you are attracted to me. Like I said, you're not subtle. Are you attracted to any other kids? When we go out to the villages and teach kids sports and swimming, are you attracted to them?"

Hunk felt shocked and a little sickened even at the suggestion. "Of course not!"

Pidge shrugged. `Then you're not sick. I think it's pretty obvious. You don't really see me as a kid, there's just some part of your brain that's telling you that you do. If you saw me as a kid, you wouldn't be attracted to me. So you just have to get over the idea."

Hunk frowned, trying to follow the vaguaries of the statement. That was obvious? "Pidge..."

Pidge bit his lip slightly, misinterpreting Hunk's frown. "Aside from the physical thing then... I mean, I know you're attracted to me and you're not going to admit it, but if we ignore that for the moment... do you... I mean, would you want me? Otherwise? As... more than a friend?"

The sudden switch from relentless logic to vulnerability threw Hunk off balance. "Of course." He said gruffly. I can't imagine being with anyone else.

It wasn't he saw Pidge's face light up with a slightly unnerving combination of triumph, relief and pure happiness that he realized he'd said that last part out loud. Pidge uncurled himself from the couch and gave Hunk an enthusiastic hug.

IDIOT! (He made sure he kept his mouth firmly closed for that one.) Unable to help himself, he returned Pidge's embrace, relishing the press of the hard, slight body against him. But he couldn't let things be at that.

"That doesn't change anything. I still-"

Pidge cut him off by pushing out of his arms. Hunk was a little worried until he saw the devious grin on his friend's face as he stepped close again.

"That's okay. I'll just give you some time to figure things out." Pidge replied, and lightly traced his finger across Hunk's groin. Then he dropped a devastating wink, turned and sauntered to the door. There he stopped for a moment, "Uh, Hunk? Close your mouth." before exiting the room.


The next two weeks were pure hell for the big mechanic. Pidge took every opportunity that presented itself (and made up a few on his own) to be in close quarters with Hunk. To brush up against him, or touch him, or catch his eye. Little things, like the comment he'd made during hand-to-hand about how agility and flexibility like his had unexpected benefits, which Hunk wouldn't have thought twice about had Pidge not been looking straight at him as he said it with a look on his face that was anything but young and innocent.

But the final straw had been tonight at dinner. Or rather, at dessert. Pidge had smiled wickedly at Hunk over his serving of strawberry shortcake before sticking one slender finger into the whipped cream, then into his mouth,where he suckled it suggestively for a moment, then removed it and licked delicately at the tip. Hunk could have borne that — Pidge had done worse over the last two weeks — but then he heard a loud snorting/ laughing/choking sort of noise from next to him. He actually managed to turn in time to see the milk shoot out of Lance's nose as the Red Lion pilot reacted with his usual level of subtlety to Pidge's display.

Then, as Allura innocently asked Lance what was wrong, Keith had grabbed his lover by the elbow and herded the still-sputtering pilot quite firmly out of the room. That meant that not only had Lance just figured out what Pidge was up to, but Keith had already known!

"What was that all about?" Allura inquired, looking, perplexed, at the door Keith and Lance had just exited as Pidge absently dipped his finger back into the dessert, a picture of innocence.

Fixing his best glare on Pidge, not even bothering to look at Allura, he replied "I'm not sure. Maybe you could go find out?"

Allura glanced from Pidge, who, with a finger stuck in his dessert Nanny would have a _fit_ if she saw him eating with his hands like that and a wide-eyed, startled gaze, looked very much like he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't; to Hunk, who was glaring for some reason. She decided that checking up on Keith and Lance sounded like a pretty good idea after all.

Neither of them so much as blinked until the door closed on Allura's heels. Then, a little guiltily, Pidge seemed to realize his finger was still dipped in whipped cream and made as if to wipe it off on his napkin. Moving quickly, Hunk leaned across the table and arrested his hand halfway. Slowly, not letting go of Pidge's wrist, he stood up, braced himself with his other hand and leaned over the table, knowing full well, with his height and bulk, how intimidating he could be when he loomed.

He hadn't thought it possible, but Pidge's eyes grew even wider...

And then wider yet as Hunk slowly raised his hand to his lips, taking the cream-covered finger into his mouth.

Pidge's eyelashes fluttered minutely behind his glasses as he spoke in a voice that was half whisper, half groan. "Oh, god, Hunk, please tell me this isn't just because you didn't want me to waste any dessert."

Hunk bit him.

Pidge yelped.

Hunk released him, and couldn't quite stifle a grin, even though he did manage to keep his voice stern and severe. "In the future, I would appreciate it if you kept these little... displays... in private."

Pidge looked up at him with a hopeful smile dancing around his lips. "There's going to be a future?"

Hunk nodded, and Pidge's smile turned from hopeful to seductive as his voice dropped nearly a full octave. "And... a `private'?"

Hunk had to settle for nodding again as he discovered his throat had suddenly gone too dry for speech.

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