|
operation: just fuck each other Hunk stared at Keith, then at Lance, then back at Keith. He rubbed his eyes, looked again, hoping, praying and...no. Still no change. Damn it. How much longer was he going to have to live with this bloody Unresolved Sexual Tension? It was getting so a man couldn't have a simple breakfast without tripping over the longing looks. And he was really, really tired of having his eggs with a side of melodrama. He said as much to Pidge, while they were waiting for Keith and Lance to finish round one of their continuous, pointless argument -- which, really was just so much foreplay when you got right down to it. "This," he said, "is not fucking happening." "You're right," Pidge said. "There is definitely no fucking happening here." "We need to change that." Hunk winced as the argument reached it's climax with Lance storming away -- off to go run or something -- and Keith standing there, not exactly bereft but certainly not whole. He was breathing deeply, cheeks bright red from anger and naked want, and then the mask slid down and he was Captain Keith once more, utterly asexual, despite the subtle presence of his erection. "If only for the sake of our eardrums." "But how?" "Well," Hunk said. "That is the question." And that, really, was where Operation "Just Fuck Each Other Already" began.
It was Hunk's plan to corner Keith and Lance alone and point out the egregious lapses in duty that they were performing, to whit the strain they were placing on the ability of the team as a whole to work together. It had seemed like a perfectly reasonable plan, at the time. What Hunk hadn't counted on was how militantly oblivious Keith and Lance could be. "It's Keith," Lance said, when Hunk and Pidge approached him in the gym. "He's so damn G.I. that I can't help but needle him. Seriously. He needs to lighten up." "Okay," Hunk said. "But do you think having screaming matches with him is really the way to do it?" "Well --oof-- I can't haul off and punch him in the face, can I?" Lance dropped from the chin up bar and stretched his arms. "I'm not that crazy." "What about, oh, tying him down to the bed and covering him with whipped cream?" Pidge pulled out his notebook and flipped through some of the more obvious sexual suggestions they'd come up with to throw at Lance. "Or screwing him in Black Lion? Or, well, just kissing him?" Lance stared blankly back at him. "Why would I want to do that?" Bad as Lance was, though, Keith was worse. Hunk actually saw Keith's eyes glaze over while he mentally erased the entire conversation of sex-with-Lance. Hunk looked at Pidge and Pidge looked back at him. This was going to take more work than they thought.
"You got me out here to do what?" Sven said when Hunk and Pidge finished explaining the situation. "Teach Lance and Keith about anal sex so that they'll finally realize that all their fighting is really just excessive foreplay and that they need to stop dancing around each other and just fuck already," Pidge said. He gave the binder of educational materials he'd prepared to Sven. "We figure that they'll listen to you." Hunk and Pidge were forced to scrap this plan when Sven laughed so hard he tore the open the stitches in his wound.
According to Hunk's sister, the romance novelist, the SOP for forcing two Soulmates to realize their romantic destiny was to lock them in a room together. While Pidge had his doubts as to whether or not this would hold true for two guys who just really, really needed to fuck, he was more than willing to go along with it. It actually didn't take much effort to trap Keith and Lance in the same room, which Hunk pointed out as further proof that they were really just meant to be together. However, as the hours ticked by and the covert checking revealed that after a few hours of screaming matches and a few more of sulking, the most exciting thing Keith and Lance were doing was playing cards, even Hunk was beginning to have his doubts. "How long are we supposed to leave them?" Pidge asked. "As long as it takes, apparently." Hunk drummed his fingers on the console. "Maybe if we slip them Viagra in their food it'll hurry things along?" Pidge shrugged. "Well, it couldn't hurt. My God are these two boring." "Right." Hunk thought some more. "Okay. You go raid Coran's stash, I'll hit up Gorma for any local aphrodisiacs." Pidge nodded and would have headed off to perform his assigned task had there not been the sudden wail of the alarms. Pidge sighed. "Operation called on account of Lotor?" he said. "Guess Coran gets to have sex tonight." "Well," Pidge said as he keyed in the release code that let Keith and Lance free. "Somebody here has to."
"So maybe piping hardcore gay porn through the view screens was not the best idea in the world," Hunk said. Pidge looked up from the mountain of potatoes he was peeling and just stared at Hunk. "You think?"
They'd tried being nice. They'd tried being discreet. They'd tried letting Keith and Lance maintain their illusions of heterosexuality. It hadn't work. It was time for the direct approach. Hunk chose to do it over breakfast, when the lack of caffeine had slowed Keith down enough that it would take him a few, precious seconds before he realized what Hunk was doing; and Lance was never fully awake before 11 anyway. It took very careful, deliberate planning, a through preparation of the appropriate materials, a waiting for the right moment. But Hunk was nothing if not a good planner and, at the appropriate time, he rolled up his newspaper and swatted the back of Keith's head, sending Keith face first into his oatmeal. "Hunk!" Keith spluttered. "What the hell?" Hunk looked over at Lance, who was beginning to perk up and pay attention -- but not quite enough attention for Hunk's purposes -- and he swatted Keith again. "Hunk?" Lance asked, droopy eyes suddenly not so droopy. "You two need a good, swift kick in the ass and I'm providing it." Hunk kept his newspaper still tightly rolled and glared at Keith and Lance. "But why am I the only one getting smacked?" Keith said. "Because you're the one most desperately in need of a clue." Hunk nodded to Pidge who pulled out the binder of informational material they'd prepared for Sven. "And if you try and pull your damn 'convenient amnesiac' trick this time, I'll keep smacking you. And I won't use a newspaper." "You can't do this to me! I'm your Captain!" "Regulations 12.8, Paragraph 3, Section II clearly states that if it's been deemed that the Captain is in a state of dubious mental health he can be relieved of duties. We've decided that needing a good, hard, shag qualifies." Pidge opened the binder to page one. "Now. Pay close attention here." It took several hours to get through all the material, and more than once Hunk had to grab Keith and shake him, but they got through it. At the end, Keith and Lance had rather shell-shocked looks of horrified understanding, but at least they understood now. Pidge put away the anatomically correct dolls. "Now," he said. "Think very, very carefully. Those screaming matches. Are they really about fighting?" Lance cast a sidelong look at Keith and began to blush. Keith looked down at the table and poked at his congealed oatmeal. He looked over at Lance, who turned redder and fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. Keith cocked his head. Raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Lance nodded emphatically. They practically sprinted out of the room, although Pidge noticed that they paused long enough for Keith to grab a tube of lube. Hunk sat back with a satisfied expression. "Well. Our work is done."
Pidge groaned as Lance's voice climbed up into a register it was not supposed to reach. He pulled the pillow of his head and glared at Hunk. "I thought you said that it'd be quieter when they started fucking." "So I was wrong." Hunk rummaged through the bedside drawer, searching for his earplugs. "Still. At least it's a different kind of screaming." "Ah! Ah! Keith!" Pidge whimpered. "Sven's so damn lucky he gets to sleep in sick bay." Hunk shrugged. "What can you do? That's the sound of fucking happening." |