Phone Tag (Shidge/Klance)

Chapter 10

"yo katie i really really really need ur help theres a situation at my place and oh god i just have no idea what to do pls come and help i know it's super early in the day im sorry"

Ten o'clock wasn't exactly what most people could call early in the day, but for Katie, it was annoyingly early. At least after a long night shift. And boy, had last night's shift been long.

Takashi had called once again asking for Pidge. Coran picked up the call and asked if she'd wanted to take it. Pidge shook her head, trying to signal a no.

"Sorry, sir. Miss Gunderson says she's not available to take the call."

She had to swipe Coran's headset and apologize profusely. For as much as she didn't want to talk to him, she wasn't about to let go of him, either.

Long shift aside, Katie owed Hunk. She dragged herself out of bed and started changing clothes. She hadn't heard any hint that Shiro would be there, so shorts and tank top it was. She rammed a bare foot into her tan cargo shorts. For a moment Katie considered making toast, but decided against it. Hunk never texted her about urgent situations.

A whine at the foot of her bed reminded her of her debt once again. "I know you're hungry. I know." She ran a hand through her hair in the hopes of smoothing out her bedhead.

Rover followed Katie to the kitchenette, claws clicking on the tile floor. His thirty-pound bag of dog food was hidden out of Rover's reach. It was locked up in a cabinet below the dripping faucet. Katie had refused to take any chances with Rover getting into any chemicals or other hazardous materials. Or him breaking into his dog food and eating until he was sick.

She scooped out a calculated cup and a half of food and poured it into his bowl and was sure to put the child-proof lock back on. Rover was good to go on water. Now she could go and help out Hunk.

As it turned out, Hunk didn't live all that far from her. A five-minute drive at best. Her car sputtered to life. It sounded a bit like a dying animal, but it was used. (Or as she liked to put it, "well-loved.") Like most things she owned, it had once been Matt's. It smelled like coffee, oil, and freshly mowed grass. Like Matt.

Luckily she hit mostly green lights on the drive over to his apartment. The car screeched to a stop when she parked. The place was a little run down. Some of the buildings' paint was peeling off and cigarette butts lay scattered throughout the grounds.

"Number 142, number 142." She spoke the phrase like an echo: starting at an average volume, then fading away into her memory. "142!" The number 2 on the door was a little crooked, but it was anchored down tightly. "Hunk, are you in?" She put her hand on the door handle. It was locked.

Katie heard his heavy footsteps grow closer to the door. She squeaked when the door handle wriggled. Hunk opened the door a crack. "Thank God you made it."

She slipped past him and closed the door behind her. "So what's going o—ah!" A purring ginger tabby rubbed up against her.

"Pumpkin, how many times have we talked about this?" Hunk said. "You're not going outside anytime soon. And sucking up to guests isn't going to change that."

Katie laughed. "You and Pumpkin sound like me and Rover. I thought I was the only one who talked to animals like they're humans."

Hunk rolled his eyes. "Katie, there are seven billion people on our planet. Chances are you're not alone." There was a clatter from the kitchen. "Zarkon, how many times have I told you, you're not allowed to play with fine china!"

Normally Katie would take her shoes off before entering someone's home. But if there was a shattered plate on the floor, she wasn't about to take her chances. "So, what's the problem, Hunk?"