My piece for @shallurazine issue 2! Thanks again to the wonderful admins, @onemerryjester and @ahumanintraining, who did an amazing job with this issue!
Finally the @shallurazine has shipped and we’ve been given the clear to publish our contributions to the zine. This is one of two that were accepted from me. I feel honored that it was chosen and I hope to contribute again in the future.
title: like we used to do
rating: t
pairing: shiro/allura
found: ff.n and ao3
note: this was my submission for the 2nd issue of @shallurazine <3
The set of Allura's lips tells Shiro what he already knows but has been disregarding for the past couple of hours since he decided to leave his house and show up in pajamas to her door: that this is a bad idea.
The door is only opened a sliver so that half of Allura's body can be seen while her left leg blocks the door from the inside, a habit formed from never installing a chain guard despite living in an apartment on the sketchier part of the student town.
It stings, how there is a physical wall (or door, if one pays attentions to technicalities) to remind him of the metaphoric one between them, and not for the first time, Shiro grieves for how things have changed.
He shifts and with long limbs in loose-fitting night clothes, he projects how nervous he feels. He opens his mouth to say something until his brain decides that he can't say something eloquent so he shrugs instead, his mechanical arm whirring faintly, his chin jutting to the seventy-dollar memory foam pillow under his hand.
Allura, from her side of the door, understands for the most part. And she understands quite a lot more than the obvious request for another sleepover. It's been two months. Divided into three installments of detachment relapse, it's really not enough time or opportunity to come to terms with what has passed and what is now. It wasn't all Shiro, too. Once it was Allura who came knocking on his door, but that was beside the point.
Allura thinks: Maybe in a few more months, we won't need to find each other anymore. Maybe in a few more months, we can sleep on our own beds and not feel like something is missing. Maybe in a few more months, we can be strangers again.
Just to torture, Allura cocks a pale brow at him, inquisitive of why. It's not that she doesn't know, but she's deprived of Shiro actually telling her what he wants. After everything's been said and done, this is her chance to get him back for it, at the risk of being called petty.
Predictably, Shiro looks annoyed. Do you really want me to say it? Instead, he says, "I couldn't sleep."
To which Allura counters, "And being here will make you sleepy?"
But Allura isn't the only one who wants to settle a score. "I miss you," he replies easily, knowing nothing disarms her more than genuine affection.
Allura opens the door.
The double bed was not made for two full-grown, considerably large adults trying to sleep with miles between them. Alura's bed is pushed to the farthest corner so she takes the side against the wall and Shiro sleeps on the edge. They look foolish with all the space between them, almost as if they're making way for a third person to wedge in between.
Allura wonders if she should say something. She wants to. She wants the air full of talk like it used to be but after all that's passed, they have unlearned their ease and ran out of things to say. How can she miss everything they used to be and not want to do something to get it back at the same time?
Beside her, she can feel Shiro trying to not move so much and breathe only a little. For a big man, he's always trying to take up as little space as he can. Even with his prosthetic detached, his mass makes his side of the bed dip, and the warmth that radiates off him is great. Allura almost admits to herself how much she misses it, but this is already a dangerous territory and there's no need to acknowledge things that they're both trying to bury. Facing his back turned to her, it feels like she's trying to memorize every shape of him before he leaves her again.
When Shiro begins to turn so he can mirror her, Allura closes her eyes. Cowardly, perhaps, but safe. She wonders if she can fake being asleep but Shiro has always said she sucked at it. She can feel his gaze as heavy as a wet blanket.
"Stop staring at me and go to sleep." She says into the thick silence of the room.
She can almost hear his smile in his tone. "You're not someone I'd get sick of staring at."
Allura opens her eyes and tries to see if he is being genuine. It never used to be hard to tell. "A little too late to be flirting with me now, isn't it?"
"I'm sorry I'm here," Shiro finally says.
Allura shakes her head, the clouds of silver hair shifting against her pillowcase. "Not your fault."
"Whose is it, then?"
Allura knows bait when she hears it. It takes a saintly patience not to snap back, not to toss blame, not to say anything at all. Shiro knows who she holds accountable and vice versa.
When Allura doesn't answer, Shiro speaks again. "I wish it doesn't have to be like this."
"You mean you wish we didn't have to be apart anymore?"
"Yeah," he says, then, takes it back. "No. I wish I don't have to want you anymore. I can never not feel like my day is substantial."
Ah, but that stings. Allura tries to swallow past her disappointment and bitterness but both stain her tongue. "You could leave."
"But I can't sleep by myself."
"And is that my problem?" She pedals back, takes on a kinder tone. "How do you expect to forget me when we keep getting together like this?"
As if there's an answer to that. As if there's a logic to why people do these types of cruelty to themselves. "I'm not thinking very clearly."
"No," Allura agrees. "Indeed this is stupid of you."
That's not anything new so he doesn't respond.
"I can't help but miss you." A thousand regrets color his voice, sad and wishful at the same time. "Sometimes I wonder if I just got used to us. But the loss of familiarity can't hurt this much. I keep thinking about what went wrong. It's like we just woke up one day and decided to stop trying to be good people to each other."
Something bitter and miserable catches in Allura's throat, impeding breath like bad heartburn, making yearning burn in her chest. This isn't the first time they've had this conversation but it never gets any easier to stomach. Somehow, she finds the power to speak. "And do you think that we could go back to being good people to each other?"
"I don't know. I don't think we're even the same people we fell in love with." Shiro stirs again, both restless and mild. When he moves and bears down on his pillow, the scent of him lingers delicately. "But if you let me, I'd like to try. I think walking away from you was a mistake I don't want to repeat."
And there it is. Allura does not know she's been waiting for such a thing: a denouement after months of falling action. Resolution isn't a clear happy ending, but it's hopeful for one. Her hand reaches up and crosses the space between them, shattering walls and lines and ego and pride when it touches the curve of his jaw. Her thumb sweeps over the coarse growth of shadow on his cheek and feels warm for the first time since he left. "Then stay," she tells him, simple as that, because moving onwards is just as easy.
Summary: The universes may change, but there’s always a familiar face to help Shiro move forward. [Takes place post-season 2 or outside of canon continuity]
Notes: My contribution to @shallurazine issue 2. (Thank you so much, @ahumanintraining and @onemerryjester, for everything.)
Read on Ao3 or below.
The latest Allura is a princess like her counterpart, though this Altea is alive and whole. Shiro can personally attest to this, assuming the soil and vegetation currently filling his mouth are indeed of Altean origin.
She has a knee to his back and a firm grip on his left arm as she erupts in a string of Altean phrases, presumably demanding that Shiro identify himself. He can’t blame her for this — anyone would be on guard if a man appeared out of thin air and disrupted one’s afternoon stroll. Without a proper translator, though, the most Shiro can do is remain silent until he’s dragged to the Castle of Lions, so he listens as this Princess Allura lambastes him.
(Even with such violently enunciated words, Allura’s voice lulls Shiro into serenity.)
Soon enough, the two of them are trudging their way towards the castle, which gleams brilliantly as if aware of its key role in Shiro’s mission. They keep moving forward, each step burdened with significance.
One step closer to communicating with this universe’s Allura and voicing his plight.
One step closer to enlisting the Alteans’ help, because if they’re gifted enough to power wormholes with their own quintessence and build the lions of Voltron, then surely they can aid an unlucky guy lost in the wrong universe.
One step closer to getting home, back to the Castle of Lions Shiro knows; to reuniting with the Black Lion and the rest of the Voltron crew and his… his universe’s Princess Allura.
This Allura must have recognized his lack of reaction to her tirade as a translation issue, and allows just enough time for the castle’s translation program to acknowledge Shiro before she singlehandedly slams him back against the wall.
(Painful? Yes. But it’s a familiar gesture in a strange world — such an Allura thing to do — so he’ll take it.)
“Now, I know you can understand me, so you have no reason to refuse to tell me who you are and how you got here, or why you have the gall to wear the armor of a Voltron paladin!” The princess’s glare holds steady, much like the weight of her right hand on Shiro’s chest, as she waits for a response.
Shiro takes a breath and struggles to gather his thoughts. There has to be a more concise explanation of his predicament than “I’m the Black Paladin from an alternate universe where Zarkon became a galactic overlord and destroyed your home, and I somehow got blasted with enough quintessence to send me dimension-hopping. Please help me get back home.”
If there is, it doesn’t come to Shiro before the princess of still-living Altea lifts her free hand to… point a finger threateningly at him? Caress his cheek? Sic the mice on him? It’s unclear, but the movement is enough to elicit a reaction from Shiro. He hastily raises his hand to meet hers…
…and lands spread-eagled on the floor of a very familiar hangar, if the mechanical beast towering above him is any indication.
“Black?” Shiro murmurs, still caught in a daze — is he back? He grazes their connection in his mind as he sits up, only to receive an echo of confusion in return.
It’s as if the Black Lion recognizes that Shiro is the Black Paladin, just not her paladin.
A roar rings through the hangar, and Shiro instinctively springs into a defensive stance before realizing that the chances of survival against a behemoth like Black are, well, nil. Good thing the sound was not from the lion, but rather the monochromatic flash twirling a staff directly into Shiro’s face.
Enter alternate Allura, stage right.
She’s different than the Altean princesses that came before, in the respect that her cheekbones lack the familiar pink arrows and her ears are more rounded — more human. Rather than soft pastel blue or commanding pink, her outfit’s accent color is a bold black, which adorns the chestplate of armor not too dissimilar from Shiro’s. Still, with the white hair cascading from a high ponytail and the fierce blue eyes, she is unmistakably Allura.
(Of course, the force of impact from staff meeting forehead was a pretty big hint too. Shiro’s ears are still ringing.)
Black Paladin Allura has her staff poised for another strike if needed, but she lowers it the moment Shiro stops massaging his face and removes his hand. He looks up in curiosity to find a knowing smile and a gentle gaze.
“First time reality-jumping, I take it?” she asks, crisscrossing her legs as she takes a seat across from Shiro. “You seemed confused to see me as I am, and I can’t say I’ve seen a Takashi who looks quite like you.”
Dumbfounded, Shiro isn’t sure where to start. “You’ve done this before?”
“Well, not willingly, and I’m sure you could say the same. Let me guess, it involved a flight in the Black Lion and an unhealthy dose of quintessence?” She smiles again upon seeing Shiro’s stunned nod. “Same thing happened to me not too long ago. I bounced through more realities than I’d care to say before finding the right one, but I still made it home.”
Shiro blanches at that — just how many universes lie ahead? — but recovers enough to ask the important questions. “So, how does this all work? I don’t have much to go on, but the one thing I’ve found is…”
“Me,” Allura finishes for him. “I’m guessing there’s a Princess Allura back in your world. The way I understand it, being struck with quintessence while in the Black Lion caused your life force to mingle with its own. The reaction slingshotted you to your first alternate reality, but the thing that keeps you moving from universe to universe, that thread gradually bringing you back home, is the quintessence of your world’s Altean royalty — also tied to the Black Lion. At least, that’s how it worked for me.”
The clues — her reaction upon seeing him, the fact that she isn’t Altean — finally click into place in Shiro’s mind, and he arches an eyebrow. “So… Prince Takashi, huh? It has a nice ring to it.”
“Well, when you get back to your reality, perhaps you can do something about that,” Allura retorts, before her eyes widen and a hint of pink creeps into her cheeks.
(Shiro isn’t the same shade as Keith’s favorite jacket. Nope, not at all.)
Allura lets out a small cough before she pushes herself upright. “The best advice I can give you is to keep moving. It’s going to be a… strange road ahead, but if you forge on, you’ll be back where you need to be in no time.” She offers Shiro her hand with a sly glint in her eye. “You just need the right touch.”
He accepts, and suddenly…
…time and countless realities have passed. At this point, it would be easy to be methodical with each jump, to just recognize each universe’s Allura and take her hand to bounce to the next. Yet even in his desire to get home — to get back to his Allura — Shiro can’t help but take a little time to get to know all the women who aren’t but so clearly are Allura.
(It was more difficult to do so with Allura the Actual Lion Goddess, who spent a good while trying to smite him before allowing him to move on.)
Each interaction makes Shiro a little homesick, but also reminds him that across these infinite realities, some form of Allura has been there to help him move forward, even if by a single step.
Now, Shiro sets down his cup of tea and glances across the table. The current universe’s Allura is an artist, specializing in fantastical scenes that are purely dreamlike to someone as earthbound as she. Once Shiro appeared and they settled in at her favorite coffee shop, she shared a few works from her sketchbook with him. Shiro couldn’t help but grin at the familiar multicolored lions frolicking across the pages.
They both stand to leave, and Shiro extends his arm for a farewell handshake. Allura smiles and takes hold…
…and it’s night in the Castle of Lions, with the soft glow of the stars and a solitary screen as the only light on the bridge. She stands at the controls with her back to him, and Shiro notes that at least she’s in her nightgown at this hour.
It takes just one step to reach her side and take her hand.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until morning.”
When the warmth of her hand disappears this time, it’s immediately replaced by her entire being as they embrace, an action that’s been a long time — too long — coming. They’ll have plenty of time in the morning to talk; for now, Shiro lets himself get lost in one last universe.
(He’s home.)
