“You know I’m in love with you, right?” for Keith/Axca or Allura/Romelle (or another ship of your choice)?
“You know I am in love with you, right?”
Allura is, first and foremost, a diplomat. And when you are a diplomat who has to deal with a wide variety of races and cultures, you get used to people blurting unexpected things at you all the time.
Apparently she’d made a mistake in letting her guard down around another Altean. Perhaps the word love had changed in her own language over the years, in much the same way quiznak apparently had. Or perhaps–
“Romantically, I mean.”
Romelle isn’t even looking at her. Not because she’s shy, oh no. Rather, she has her legs kicked up on the side of Allura’s hospital bed, her arms thrown behind her head as she inspects the ceiling out of pure curiosity. She’s the picture of ease, unconcerned with the fact that she is blowing Allura’s mind.
Allura inhales sharply, and promptly chokes on her own saliva. There’s a crash from Romelle as she stops reclining in her chair, the legs smacking against the floor. She hurries to Allura’s side, smacking her back entirely unhelpfully as Allura struggles to gather the tatters of her dignity around her, frantically trying to find the right words even as she tries to get her air back.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Romelle reassures her, still apparently unbothered by the whole debacle. Her hand shifts from smacking to soothing circles and - and somehow that makes it even harder to breathe. Allura manages it through sheer survival instinct, because she’s pretty sure her higher brain power has fled the area. “I just wanted you to know.”
And then she winks, dropping back into her seat and kicking back into her previous pose like she hasn’t just turned the world upside down.
keep reading @ ao3!
