Shiro week: day 5: companion
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Ryou bonus
Nights were always the worst.
Not that space has ‘nights’ to speak of but planet born creatures had sleep cycles in their blood and so ‘night’ came to the Castle even thrumming through the eternal dark of space.
And Shiro was left on his own.
Sometimes he slept. He’d given up pretending he could on the bed, moved a blanket and pillow to the closet and - sometimes - he slept better in there. Closed in and surrounded by walls, the small space felt - safe. He was pretty sure it shouldn’t but - he couldn’t fight what he’d been made into all the time. He had to sleep sometime. And the closet was the only place he could.
When he could - he slept. But often he couldn’t sleep. It left him at loose ends, something his nature rebelled at - but something his in need of distraction mind also tried to avoid. He didn’t do well with nothing to do. He never had but now it felt -
it was too easy to lose himself in the emptiness inside his head, where an entire year of memories wasn’t. To easy to listen to the voices whispering that he wasn’t real, that he’d never really escaped, that it was only a matter of time before someone realized it and called him out.
It didn’t have to make sense. It still had a way of wiggling down through his spine and lodging.
So nights were spent exercising. Training. Sitting with Black. Watching the stars go by from the helm or the observation room. Trying to learn to read Altean. Galra. Trying to stay busy in the empty silence while his team slept, safe and protected under his watch.
Some nights it was harder than others to find distraction.
“Mm?” he looked down at the squeak near his boot, pulling himself out of an almost subconscious and fruitless search for constellations he recognized in the star charts spread out on the table in front of him. Saw one of the mice... Chuchule maybe? He didn’t have them memorized yet. They were Allura’s mice. Pidge’s companions. Sometimes they shadowed Hunk in the kitchen. But Shiro - there wasn’t a lot of room for small alien rodents in his routines. But there was a mouse now, looking expectantly up at him and even though he knew they were capable, he lowered a hand to offer a lift to the table. It just seemed polite. The mouse, Chuchule, he was pretty sure, scrambled onboard, unphased by the fact it was a metal hand and not a normal one and just as he was lifting, there was a mad scramble and suddenly he had a full handful of mice and one running up his shirt sleeve. It - was weird but pretty endearing and he smiled as he lifted them all onto the table in front of him, careful to set them where the star map wouldn’t slide under their small feet. The one on his shoulder - Plachu possibly? - didn’t scamper down but remained and Shiro felt the brush of long whiskers against his cheek as it seemed intent on settling in. They didn’t often interact with him.
“What is it? Is everything all right? Is something wrong with the princess?”
They weren’t acting alarmed but - why else would they have all showed up at the same time for his attention. But - no. From the miming, nothing was wrong. Everyone was still sleeping, or at least Allura was if the little mimicked snores were any indication. It made him smile again, watching Platt’s - he was pretty sure it was Platt - round belly rising and falling with the snores.
He resisted the urge to nudge it with a finger.
“You want food then?” Because that seemed sensible but no. Even if Platt looked like he might have been tempted to agree, the other mice made it clear this wasn’t a matter of food.
“All right. What do you need then?”
That answer took a great deal longer. Shiro didn’t have the ‘mice’ skill that the women on the ship seemed to and there were quite a few false starts and mistakes on his part as he tried to work out what complex thing they were miming to him in answer. Still, all those road trip games with Allura that Hunk had taught them seemed to have paid off because it was only ten or fifteen minutes later when Shiro finally pieced together:
“You want to put on another show for the princess but you want to practice it on me first?”
It had been a long time since he’d felt as proud of affirmation at his efforts as he did when the mice responded to the happy positive and he was sure that said something about him. It still left a warm glow in his chest though and he was too wise to ignore that based on whether he thought it had merit or not.
“Okay,” he nodded. “Show me how I can help.”
The next week and a half wasn’t so empty. The routine the mice were working on was pretty complex and there were a lot of kinks to iron out of it. Apparently at least. Shiro mostly got to watch and provide the hands needed for certain tricks while the mice hashed it out in detail amoung themselves. He enjoyed it though. Their little cold feet were actually very comforting as they ran up and down and across him and listening to them squeak made the world very small and safe and full of warmth. Eventually they got it worked out however and he was willing to admit he was sorry about it. Not that he wanted to hold them back. He’d just - miss the company.
Two nights later they were back however, new routine in need of practice, his hands and attention required while they worked away in secret on their next surprise for the princess. Shiro felt included and it was a strange feeling. It wasn’t as a member of the team or Voltron or even friendship. It was just something he couldn’t define but felt inclusive and whole.
It was during the third round of practice for a new routine that he finally mentioned it in passing to Allura. Some casual comment that slipped out because he wanted to hear her praise their efforts - their efforts because he was starting to feel as if he was included in their routines as well even if he never got to be there when they entertained Allura with them and he hoped to hear how much she’d enjoyed the mice and the hard work they’d put in -
except she only gave him a puzzled smile and asked what he was on about. The mice only did routines when the lack of missions gave her too much downtime and that certainly hadn’t been recently.
That night, as Chulatt clambered up his arm to swing from his thumb, Shiro offered Platt the cookie he’d snuck from dinner for him and then looked at Chuchule. And he smiled.
“I think I’ve got an idea for your next routine...”
Nights were always the worst. But - sometimes - the smallest distractions could fill up an entire empty night with their scurrying feet across him and their cheerful chatter.
It made the days easier to tackle too.
@blackpaladinweek
