“WHAT IN THE WORLD?!?!!”
Upon hearing Hunk’s pained shout, Pidge and Lance jumped, tossed their controllers aside (Pidge was totally NOT kicking Lance’s ass at Mario Kart, nope) and hustled down the hall to the laundry room.
“What’s up, my dude?” Lance called as he rounded the corner, skidding a little on his sock feet and scrambling to stay upright as Pidge collided with him from behind.
Hunk stood beside the overflowing laundry hampers, hands threaded in his hair and wearing an almost murderous expression. “Where did all this laundry come from?” he nearly shouted as he looked up at the two. “Lance! I just washed two loads for you the day before yesterday! What happened?!”
Lance blinked and then laughed sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, ah, you see... I get sweaty when I train and, y’know, you get sweaty, you get itchy... so I just changed clothes to avoid that!”
Hunk sighed heavily and opened the lid of the hamper next to it. “Pidge... how long has this stuff been sitting in your closet? Two weeks, three weeks?”
Pidge shrugged. “Can’t remember,” she replied. “I’ve been really busy coding....”
“Some of it smells mildewed,” Hunk replied, snapping the lid shut again and rubbing his forehead. “Guys...” there was something ominous about his tone and Pidge and Lance couldn’t help but cast a nervous glance at each other. “We’re a family and I’d do anything for you, but you know... this gets old. It’s not just this, though. Come with me,” he exited the laundry room, motioning for them to follow him.
The two followed Hunk back down the hall, shooting quizzical looks at each other as he turned the corner and entered the communal kitchen. “This, right here,” he told them, gesturing to a huge pile of dishes and utensils in the sink. “We do have a dishwasher, you know....” he sighed heavily again. “All you have to do is rinse the dishes a little. It’s not that hard.”
Keith breezed into the kitchen at that particular pause, carrying a small assortment of black and red dishes and some silverware. He made a beeline for the sink, huffing a small irritated breath as he noticed the dirty plates and glasses piled up. After a brief assessment of the situation, he set the dishes he was carrying on the counter next to the sink and turned on the water.
“See,” Hunk began gesturing to Keith, “it’s really not....” his voice trailed off and his mouth dropped open, eyes bugging out as Keith carefully removed all the dishes from the sink, rinsed only the plates and glasses he’d carried in (his and Shiro’s, presumably) and placed them in the dishwasher before neatly returning all the other dirty dishes to the sink and breezing out of the kitchen again.
Lance and Pidge really didn’t mean to crack up at that moment, honestly they didn’t. However, once Pidge had quietly snorted, that opened the floodgates and in moments Lance was howling, Pidge joining him. “S-seriously, Mullet?” Lance cackled. “He’s so fucking weird... aha, ha....” Pidge giggled and nodded in agreement as she wiped her eyes.
“Guys.” Hunk broke in, tone unexpectedly stern. That was enough to rattle the duo and halt their fits of laughter. Slowly, both of them looked over to Hunk, who was standing expressionless with his arms folded. “This really isn’t funny. I mean, I work just as hard as you do and then I have to come back to our quarters and deal with this crap. I’m sorry, but I’m done. You guys aren’t children and you can do this stuff yourselves. Consider this me going on strike.”
“Ew... yeah, no, that’s definitely out,” Lance made a disgusted face as he tossed a shirt aside and picked up another from the pile on the chair in the corner of his room. “How about this- OH, HOLY SHIT,” he gagged and threw the offending (and smelly) article of clothing as far away from him as he could. “What the hell was that... damn, I didn’t know a stench like that could exist-“ he coughed a little and reached for another shirt when a movement caught the corner of his eye... Pidge was standing there, and what the hell was she- “Are those Matt’s clothes you’re wearing?”
Pidge laughed a little sheepishly as she looked down at the getup she was currently sporting: worn, slightly holey t-shirt bearing the words “Garrison Football” and baggy grey sweatpants rolled up at the hem. “Uh, yeah. He left some clothes behind when he came to visit last so I’m borrowing them.”
Lance snickered and gestured to the too-big sweats. “They look like clown pants, for real.”
“I know,” Pidge groaned. “I rolled the waistband up too hoping that would keep them from dragging on the ground so much.” She pulled the hem of the shirt up as she spoke and Lance caught a flash of hot pink hibiscuses on a yellow background just above the waistband-
“Uhhh, Pidge? Are you wearing a bathing suit?”
Pidge yelped and dropped the hem of the shirt quickly, face blooming beet red. “Yes,” she muttered. “I’m... I’m out of clean underwear. I’m desperate, alright? Don’t judge.”
Lance exhaled forcefully, pushed aside a pile of clothes that had failed the sniff test (it was a decently sized pile) and sat down. “I tried looking in Coran’s closet to see if there was anything I could borrow from him for a little while. Unfortunately, all his clothes are so... so... Coran-y so that didn’t work.”
“Do you even know how to work that weird washer and dryer?” Pidge asked, rolling a frayed edge of her shirt between her fingers. “I looked at it but it has so many compartments and settings and buttons that even I couldn’t figure it out.”
“Hell no, I can’t work that thing,” Lance replied. “I wouldn’t be trying to borrow clothes from Coran if I did. I’m desperate too.”
“Maybe we can just, you know, ask Hunk-“ Pidge began.
“Ask me what?” Hunk asked cheerfully, poking his head in the door. He chuckled softly as he surveyed the scene. “Wow, Lance, I haven’t seen that shirt since our first year at the Garrison. Little small, isn’t it?” Lance’s face flushed and he ducked his head while Hunk turned to Pidge, taking in her too big clothes and causing her to look away in a slightly mortified manner. “You look nice today, Pidgey,” he added with a grin. “So... we good? Everything good?”
Lance forced a grin onto his face and put on a cheerful bravado, “Yeah, my man, we’re doing great! Just going for a little throwback look here. And Pidge? She’s... putting together a Matt cosplay!” Pidge started to protest at that but Lance (in true Lance fashion) bulled ahead undeterred. “We’re good! How about you?”
Hunk chuckled again and nodded. “I’m good! I signed up for a canning class so I’ll be going to that three times a week, and I also got invited to write a guest series for Among The Stars magazine, so I’m pretty excited about that.”
“That’s great, Hunk,” Lance boomed, slapping his shoulder lightly. “Anyway, it’s all good,” he continued, ignoring Pidge’s death-ray glare. “Have fun.”
“Alright, then, see you later,” Hunk left the room whistling cheerfully. He was barely down the hall when Pidge turned to Lance, murder in her eyes, and threw her hands up forcefully.
“The hell was that?!” She cried indignantly. “All we had to do was apologize to the guy and ask for his help. I think he was trying to give us the opportunity and you blew it!”
“Pidge. Pidgeon. Pidgerini. Pidgercalifragelisticexpialidocious,” Lance replied, rolling his eyes. “He was way too smug when he showed up here. We need to show him that we got this, okay? Besides,” he ducked as Pidge threw an armful of clothes from the sniff test pile at him, “how hard could this really be?”
“Famous last words, Lance,” Pidge muttered as she hiked up the sweatpants she was currently swimming in. “Famous last words.”