Masks

When I Get Home

Set sometime after Further After, but before Keith 3 and Sam.

"When I get home, I'm getting a pe'a."

The announcement comes out of the blue during a group post-mission collapse in one of the common rooms, and everyone turns at least vaguely to look at Hunk.

"Dude," Lance raises an eyebrow, "I thought you said you were never doing that because it would hurt too much."

"I've changed my mind," Hunk says flatly, "If I get home, I'm going straight to my uncle and telling him to sign me up with the next group he hears is getting theirs done because I'm a mighty space warrior and I've earned it."

"What's a pe'a?" Pidge asks the couch cushion her face is merging with, and Lance answers faster.

"A traditional Samoan tattoo, very fancy, lots of cultural significance, great excuse to wear booty shorts," he offers up before Hunk can explain.

"...what?"

"They go from your waist to your knees."

Keith actually sits up from where he's squashed next to Shiro to give Hunk an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

"Mm," Hunk nods, "There's a reason I wasn't planning on getting one before. Now though? I fear no man. I fear no god. I fear no master tattooist with his combs of pointy ouch-ness. Anyway, Lance, what are you going to do if we get back someday?"

"Gonna let my entire extended family dogpile me and then just, lay there. For a couple hours. Just soak in the violent and overly-emotional love, you know?" he hums with pleasure at the thought, "And then will come the part where they say I've gotten too skinny while I was off in space and there will be so much food. Anyone else?"

"...contact my dad," Keith volunteers after a moment, "Tell him I'm okay, what I've been doing, and then... I might actually come back out here. No, I will come back out here. And I'll bring him with me, and we'll explore together for awhile."

"Are you sure about that?" Shiro looks down at his friend in concern, then hunches in minor embarrassment at the looks this gets him, "I mean- he's a Wanderer. If you let him off-planet, he might never go back."

Keith shrugs. "We'll find a way to stay in contact – up until now we always have. And maybe, if we work together, we'll find her..." he does not say who 'she' is, but then, it's not really necessary. Though not as active about it, ever since they met the Blades, Pidge has not been the only paladin hoping to find a parent somewhere in space.

Speaking of whom, the green paladin pipes up next. "I'm gonna take over the tech industry. No mercy, just bam, straight to the neck, I've been to space, I am Enlightened, resistance is futile. Hunk, you're helping."

"I am?" Hunk tilts his head back so he can see Pidge.

"Yes. Team Punk rides eternal."

Hunk considers this for a moment, then shrugs, "Eh, I guess someone has to keep you from going evil. And I'm getting my pe'a first."

"I resent the implications but also accept these terms. Shiro?"

"Crawl into my family's cemetery plot and die."

"Shiro!" the protest comes in near-perfect unison, and their sometimes-overly-morbid leader laughs, blocking the pillow Lance throws at him and causing a squawk from Keith when he gets hit with it instead.

"Okay, okay, okay, I'm going to crawl into bed and sleep forever. You guys worry too much."

"You tempt death too often for those jokes to still be funny," Keith counters darkly, rolling off the couch to a new place on the floor, out of the threat zone should Shiro get anything else thrown at him.

"You know what? Hunk's got the right idea," Lance hops into the conversation again before it can degrade into a 'yelling at Shiro to be more careful with himself' fest (not that those don't have their completely necessary place in palace life, but they've just come out of a long, arduous mission and the team needs relaxing more than Shiro needs another reminder), "We should all get tattoos when we get back."

"I don't think you've immersed yourself quite deep enough into Samoan society for anyone to be willing to give you a pe'a, Lance," Hunk protests from the floor, "You were just reaching the point of being trusted with family recipes when we left, and my family doesn't know any of the rest of you guys – no offense, there's just a lot of rules and traditions around getting one," he adds hastily, to a chorus of 'don't worry about it/no problem.'

Lance waves a hand dismissively, "No, not pe'a. Cool as they are, that is a challenge I am not up for. I mean more like – group tattoos or something. Like the lions! Man, we should get tattoos of our lions on the body parts we make when we form Voltron!"

"Pidge is too young to get a tattoo," Shiro protests weakly from where he's taken tactical advantage of Keith moving to take up the entire couch he's on, somewhat side-swiped by the sudden turn the conversation has taken.

"We will obviously be lying about Pidge's age," Lance replies with utter confidence, accepting a fist bump of solidarity from the green paladin as he does so.

Keith looks up from where he's been getting resettled with a considering expression. "Would Shiro's be on his face, then, since he's the head of Voltron?"

"I'm not getting a face tattoo," Shiro puts in quickly, before anyone can get too attached to the idea and try to talk him into it.

"You should get it in the center of your chest," Pidge gives an evil grin, "It would be amazing. Every time you take your shirt off – bam! Second face!"

"...while I don't do it much at the moment, I do hope to get to the point where I can walk around shirtless again at some point, Pidge."

"You could still do that!"

"What about on one of your pecs?" Hunk suggests instead, "Or on your shoulder, so it looked like Black was crouching on it?"

"...that second one sounds more- Lance, what are you doing?"

"Art!" Lance announces from where he has produced something that seems to function like a marker from somewhere and rolled up his jeans to draw directly on his right leg. There is silence for a moment while the rest of the group observes his efforts.

"That's not actually too bad," Pidge comments, oozing over from her own chair so that she's draped partially on the arm of Lance's as well and pushing up her left sleeve, "Do mine next."

"Eh, okay. Requests?"

"On my forearm, like an arm-blaster or something!"

The conversation completely devolves at this point from its original topic to a discussion of where who will each put their theoretical lion tattoo, and what it will look like. They're still trying to figure out en masse how to make Keith's right fist look like Red's face when Coran calls them for supper.

OoOoOoOoO

From my cursory research into Samoan tattoos/pe'a, the most traditional ones go from waist to knees and cover most of the space in between, and a lot of ceremony and ritual goes into it, because this is Important. That's the sort Hunk's talking about getting. I was unable to really confirm if tattoos on other portions of the body are classically Samoan, or if it's something that's been adopted from other Polynesian islands. And, of course, if any of the above is wrong, please politely inform me and I will change it, I do not wish to perpetuate misinformation.