Pretty much me playing around writing Shiro and Allura. It’s a short drabble I wrote a little awhile ago. I have a bunch, but this is the only one that’s finished. It’s also available on AO3. Sorry if anything seems OOC. lmao. 

Shiro reveals his real name to Allura and admits he isn’t the same as he used to be, and this bothers him. Cue Allura comforting him.

“You have that look on your face,” Allura says.

Shiro snaps to and looks down at her, the heavy weight of fatigue hitting him all at once. He must look terrible.

“What look?”

“The one you have right now.” Allura’s staring at his face with bright blue eyes, studying every little detail, every blemish on his skin that’s started to fade over time. Her eyes fall upon the scar that runs straight along the bridge of Shiro’s nose. “It’s a sad look.”

He won’t meet her eyes. They flit away towards the ground.

Allura wraps her arms delicately around his mechanical one and leans against his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re not sad. I know it when I see it, Shiro.”

He swallows hard and doesn’t budge, unable to form words yet.

“I understand that you may not want to discuss it with me,” she says, her voice soothing to his ears. “But I’d like you to know that I’m here to listen if you want me to.”

“I’m okay.” The tight knot in his stomach tells him he isn’t. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been very lost in thought lately,” she notes. Shiro can sense the concern in her voice and he can’t help but feel guilty. “And much quieter than usual. It’s unlike you.”

Shiro shifts slightly and wills himself not to lean into her warmth. He exhales, harder than he means to. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“That’s something we have in common.” She can’t help but smile, trying her best to lighten the mood.

It takes him a minute or two before he can gather his thoughts.

“Can I share something very personal with you, Allura?” he asks. His eyes finally fall on hers, and that look she knows all too well is still there—the one he keeps to himself until he’s sure that no one’s around. It’s the one that overcomes his features on a sleepless night when he gazes out into the deep, dark vastness of space. It’s the expression he has when he stares at the stars and doesn’t recognize any of the constellations he memorized on earth.

More than anything, it hurts her heart to see it.

“Please,” she says.

Shiro takes a moment to gather his bearings and shifts his body to face her. “My real name is Takashi Shirogane and…” He glances down at the floor and winces slightly.

Allura watches him intently, not sure why he looks upset. She gently holds his elbow for support, encouraging him to go on.

“It’s a name that has a great deal of weight to it, and is known by a lot of important people back on Earth at the Garrison,” he says. His brows furrow and he can’t help but twiddle his thumbs. “It’s this sort of label of my success before Kerberos happened. I was a highly regarded flight instructor.

“After being imprisoned for a year and—” Shiro cuts off for a moment, his human hand running along the scar on the bridge of his nose. His eyes flicker to his Galra arm, but he immediately looks away. He feels the blood run hot in his ears and his muscles clench. His breath catches in his throat, but he pushes through.

“Well, after everything that’s happened, I’m just not sure if I can ever go back to being Takashi Shirogane.”

“Why?”

Allura watches as Shiro’s eyes narrow and he goes to a far off place. “I’ve done things I never imagined I would go through with. I’ve…I’ve killed people,” he admits, the first time he’s ever said it aloud. “I’ve faced some of the most frightening creatures I’ve ever seen in my life…”

The fingers of his Galra arm curl at his side. “And they took my arm,” he states. “They’ve taken a large part of me, and replaced it with a weapon.”

He doesn’t blink, and he stares out at the stars, imagining every foe’s face clear as day in his head. “I…I’ll never be the same, Allura.”

She touches his human arm and peeks down at the scars that tarnish his skin. Like a feather, she traces her fingertips along the curves of the pink scar tissue, her eyes observing the marred flesh. Beneath his skin, she feels his blood pumping hard in his veins. When she looks into his eyes, she still sees the faraway look that threatens to take him.

“Your scars tell a story.” Allura delicately slides her hand down his forearm and holds it there at his wrist with a gentle touch. “And yes, it’s a painful story, a hurtful and very permanent reminder of your time as a prisoner. And I apologize that I cannot imagine what it was like.”

Her thumb rubs circles into the underside of his wrist and her voice is gentle, therapeutic almost. Beneath her touch, she can feel his pulse begin to slow. “But it shows that you have overcome so much, and have survived, and are unbreakable—a very admirable, and fitting trait of a Voltron paladin,” she says.

“Even one that’s killed countless?” he murmurs.

Allura strokes his calloused palm and she traces the deep lines, like she’s following the trails of a map. “Every paladin has had to…to kill,” she admits. Her face tenses at the word and her white brows knit together.

“It isn’t something I like to bring attention to, and it pains me to say this, but we all must acknowledge that it is necessary sometimes. Especially when it comes to protecting yourself and your team,” she says.

She sees him tug at his lower lip with his teeth, a nervous action she rarely sees. She squeezes his hand with reassurance and stares into his eyes. “You were given no choice. Promise me you won’t dwell on it.”

“I’m not sure that I can,” Shiro admits with a weak smile. He stares back, the worry and shame in his face beginning to fade away. There’s still a hesitation in the furrow of his brows, but he continues to look to her with dark, intense eyes. He wants to promise her, but he isn’t sure he can keep it.

“As for this—” Allura reaches out for his Galra arm and he complies, resting the cold metal in her warm hands. “This may be a weapon created by our enemies, but Shiro, you have made it something so much more.”

She looks up at him and meets his eyes, and offers him the most sincere smile. The pink in her iris gleams brightly and he forgets to breathe. “You didn’t allow yourself to be used as a weapon by Haggar and the Galra, and because of this arm—” Allura intertwines their fingers, meshing flesh and metal together. “You have also saved so many lives, Takashi Shirogane. Including my own.”

Shiro swallows hard, and he feels a weight lift from his chest. He feels the sternness of his face soften at her words and he loves the way she says his name.

Allura squeezes his fingers and brings the back of his metal hand to her lips. Her lips look soft against the surface and Shiro wishes he could feel them on his skin. “I may not have known the old Takashi Shirogane, but the new one is no monster. I find him to be a rather inspirational leader.”

He envelopes her into a warm embrace before she can say another word. “Thank you,” he whispers into her hair, over and over again, and loses himself somewhere in the sweet smell of her. “Thank you, Allura…”

She shivers at his breath in her ear and she returns the hug.

“I guess that’s all I needed to hear.” His voice is low and quiet, and he holds her close to himself, as close as she can possibly get.

“Then please rest easy, my paladin,” she whispers against his collarbone. “Rest easy, Takashi Shirogane.”