Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shiro bustled from one side of her bed to the other, adjusting and re-adjusting her mismatched assortment of cushions. She’d picked them up from a variety of swap moons and open air markets on backwater asteroids, building a nest of softness around herself until she no longer felt cold solitude pressing in as she slept. Now she fluffed and stacked, frowning at the arrangement. One pointed fang toyed restlessly with her lower lip.

She’d never paid much attention to the aesthetics of her quarters— a den was personal, a haven of rest and comfort in between dangerous missions. Normally she’d bare her teeth at any Galra who dared peer inside uninvited. Any Blade would do the same.

But this quintant was different. Keith would be arriving within the varga.

Usually Shiro topped the nest of cushions with her favorite wrap, woven of patterned yarn from her birth planet, but today she spread a new purchase across the mattress. The blanket was a bold scarlet, brighter than the sunset flares of Zyiv, with thick, warm fabric as soft as a newborn kit’s fur. She’d dithered at the market for endless doboshes, until the Unilu merchant nearly lost patience, before she finally spotted the blanket rolled up within a thick band of twine.

She desperately hoped Keith liked it.

Across the phoebs since Keith had begun accompanying the Blade on their missions, Shiro had rarely heard her speak of her own tastes or wants. Above all else, the half-human Blade was fierce.

Fiercely loyal. Fiercely independent. Fiercely determined.

Fiercely beautiful.

In their missions together, Shiro had never seen Keith falter. She was graceful and deadly, with an unstoppable will to improve that put their senior Blades to shame. She didn’t hold Shiro in any special regard as the former Champion, never flinched at the eerie glow of her Druid-forged prosthetic arm. They'd become respected comrades. Sometimes, Shiro thought they might even be friends.

Sometimes she thought they could be more.

They’d spent a handful of late night cycles on the training floor together, matching strikes until Shiro was too exhausted to dwell on her demons. Keith would pin Shiro down with a sharp smile, and her hand always lingered a little too long after pulling Shiro to her feet. There was a warmth in Keith's eyes then, a softness in her aura, that Shiro never saw in front of anyone else.

Shiro almost invited Keith back to her den so many times, but she always lost her nerve— until the last time they met.

She’d never forget the tear-trails streaking through the blood and grime on Keith’s cheeks, the way her eyes glinted gold and her grimace flashed sharp with the hint of fangs. The break in Keith’s husky voice had echoed in Shiro’s ears every tick since they parted.

“I know why you did it, Shiro, but please… please don’t make me do this without you.”

It hit Shiro all at once, what a fool she’d been. She’d prepared for death ever since she swore her oath as a Blade. If her life helped bring down Zarkon's empire, she'd offer it gladly. She never expected Keith to disobey Kolivan's orders and come back for her— never considered that her sacrifice would hurt Keith so much.

In that instant, Shiro found her resolve. She would offer her heartsong to Keith, share in closeness and harmony together, and devote the rest of her life to making Keith smile.

If Keith accepted.

Shiro raked her claws through her white hair with a growl, ears pinning back against her head. She needed to focus. Keith could be here any dobosh now.

She turned her attention to the two conical objects she’d placed on either side of her bed. The merchant at the space mall had called them Glob Lumes (abbreviated, they said, from Globule Illuminators) and assured her they were all the rage on Earth. She’d hoped Keith might appreciate their bold scarlet blooms, but the blasted things seemed to be faulty— they’d been attached to power for vargas now and still wouldn't reproduce the shapes she saw in the shop.

She squatted next to one of the Lumes, prodding it with a finger. The glass clinked obstinately under her claw.

Before she could shatter the defective thing in her prosthetic fist, Shiro’s ears perked up at the sound of three swift raps on her door. There was only one Blade who would “knock” like this.

It took all of Shiro’s self-control to limit her stride to a purposeful walk as she moved to place her palm against the panel. The door whooshed open to reveal Keith, dressed in casual wear— no uniform this time. She must have headed straight to Shiro’s quarters when she arrived on base. Cautious hope unfurled in Shiro’s chest, fluttering like fledgling wings against the inside of her ribcage.

Keith stood with her shoulders slightly hunched, arms crossed protectively over her chest, and gloved hands squeezing her biceps. Her cropped red jacket wrapped around her torso like armor, zipped all the way up to her throat. The toe of one white-and-red boot tapped an anxious rhythm on the hollow floor.

Her hair was still shower-damp, gathered back in a half-tail with the rest falling to her shoulders in wispy waves of ink. Another positive sign, Shiro hoped— for many Galra, changing one’s usual hair arrangement before a meeting like this would send a strong message.

But she shouldn’t get ahead of herself. Human traditions could be different, after all.

Keith shifted slightly, grip on her arms tightening, and cleared her throat. Her deep space eyes peered up at Shiro from under her long lashes.

“Um. Hey.”

Awareness zinged through Shiro’s besotted brain— she’d been staring. She straightened, trying to look smooth though she knew the embarrassed flick of her ears gave her away.

“Hi, Keith.” Good start— her voice didn’t shake. “You came.”

Keith shrugged one shoulder, bangs shifting to frame her cheek as she tilted her head. The slightest hint of a smile curved the edge of her lips. “Well, yeah. You asked me.”

The implication wasn’t lost on Shiro— that her asking was enough reason for Keith to take action.

“So.” The curl of Keith’s lips deepened, one thick brow raised. “You gonna invite me in, or what?”

“Oh!” Shiro closed her eyes for an instant, breathing in. Keith’s scent wafted gently through the air between them, clean and smelling faintly of juniberry blossoms, tinged with a slight sizzling note of anxiety. Shiro kicked herself inwardly for causing Keith even the smallest twinge of distress— she’d asked Keith here to reassure her, not to confuse her.

When she opened her eyes, she let her shoulders relax, face melting into a soft smile. “That’s up to you.”

She moved one step closer, out of the protective arch of her doorway. Keith regarded her uncertainly.

“I don’t know how it is among your people,” Shiro began, “but for the Blade, our quarters are a den of rest and safety. We don’t invite others inside lightly.” She shifted her hands toward Keith, palms up. “Keith. Will you come inside with me?”

Keith’s eyes widened. A soft magenta flush dusted her cheeks, kissing the tapered points of her ears. Shiro heard the click of her swallow.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Keith released her tight hold on her arms, reaching tentatively until her hands came to rest in Shiro’s. She stared at their hands for a moment, the contrast of her gloves and skin with the pale lavender of Shiro’s fur, and the dark metal of Shiro’s prosthetic. When she lifted her eyes again, Shiro saw a familiar spark of determination in their depths.

“I will.”

Shiro’s fangs flashed in a brilliant smile. She closed her grip gently, glorying in the way her long clawed fingers swallowed up Keith’s dexterous hands.

“You are welcome, Keith,” she murmured.

Shiro shifted backwards, gently tugging Keith after her. Her breath caught as Keith’s boots stepped over the threshold and into her den. Keith’s scent seemed to curl through the air, mixing with the ever-present flavor of home.

The door whisked shut behind them, leaving them in the soft russet glow of the Glob Lumes. Shiro nearly stumbled at the sight— living shapes now bubbled and twisted inside the glass cones.

Keith huffed a breath of surprise, expression shining with obvious delight.

“Where’d you manage to find lava lamps in space?”

“They reminded me of you,” Shiro admitted.

Keith dipped her head, laughing breathlessly. “I guess y’all don’t do a lot of red in your decorating, huh.”

She let Shiro guide her to the edge of the bed, gravitating immediately to the plush red blanket. Shiro knelt at her feet, smiling hopefully up at her.

“May I make you comfortable?” she asked.

Keith stilled, fingers grasping the edge of the blanket, and gave a single nod of assent.

One after the other, Shiro eased the boots from Keith’s feet, letting her touch linger for a moment on each of Keith’s ankles. So slender, so delicate, for someone so strong and unstoppable. But if things went well, there would be plenty of time to admire them later.

Shiro placed Keith’s boots gently beside the bed and crawled up to perch between the plush cushions, fighting to hold her eagerness in check as she offered her hands to Keith again. Keith pulled her knees up onto the mattress and slid close without hesitation, hands easily finding a home within Shiro’s.

Shiro adjusted her grip until her palms aligned with Keith’s, and slotted their fingers together. Tentatively, Keith followed suit, folding her callused fingertips down until she grasped Shiro’s hands in return. Keith’s claws were pink and blunted, chipped and gnawed down on some fingers. Shiro had often seen her chewing on the end of a thumb in moments of deep thought.

Keith looked vulnerable in the rose-tinted light, lower lip caught between her teeth and eyes probing Shiro’s face.

Shiro had never seen anything more beautiful.

“I don’t know how it is among humans, or even among other Galra,” Shiro began. “But for my clan, our promises— our debts— are sacred.” Her thumbs rubbed over the backs of Keith’s hands. “The Blade saved me from Zarkon’s arena. When I swore my oath to them, I promised myself to the cause. Knowledge or death.”

Keith’s shoulders hunched, such a minute movement that Shiro might not have noticed if she wasn’t watching so closely. Pain sparked in Keith’s eyes, but she tightened her jaw and held the words inside. As always, she stayed patient with Shiro, waiting for her to finish.

Shiro loved her all the more for it.

“There is only one thing more important than that oath— more important than any duty.”

Heat crawled up Shiro’s throat, tangling her insides. Her heart thudded so heavily she thought Keith must hear it.

“If we find someone to share the song of our heart,” she whispered, “our lives are attuned from that quintant forward. The heartsong transcends everything else. It’s the deepest part of ourselves we have to offer.”

Keith squeezed Shiro’s hands, peering up at her with concern. “You’re trembling.”

Shiro could only offer a shaky smile. She felt split open, with all of her hurts and vulnerabilities on display. She’d never bared her heart before someone like this before— never thought she would trust someone this much.

Keith was a miracle. Looking into her earnest eyes put Shiro’s fears to rest.

“I want to share my heartsong with you, Keith. Will you listen?”

Keith’s lips curled in the softest smile Shiro had seen her wear. “I’d love to hear it.”

Relief swept through Shiro so thoroughly she nearly swayed with it. She knew her expression must be utterly smitten, ears flicking up and fangs glinting with joy.

She brought Keith’s hand to rest against her chest, palm flat against the steady thump of her heartbeat. The warmth of Keith’s skin radiated through the thin fabric of her tunic, better than the healing balm she often applied to her stiff muscles the morning after a mission.

With her eyes closed, Shiro held her thumb close against Keith’s wrist, feeling the nervous flutter of her pulse. Not anxious, but shy and thrumming with hope— much like Shiro’s own.

Softly, as if in answer to their matching tumble of emotions, Shiro’s heart began to sing.

It started as a low rumble, deep within the cavern of her chest and reverberating up to her throat. The music spread through her, trickling down to pool slow and languid in her stomach like a cup of her mother’s sweet-brewed latanya.

“Oh.” Keith’s breath left her lips in the barest exhale, loath to intrude on the moment. “You’re purring.”

Shiro’s song paused on a trill. Her eyes blinked open to find Keith gazing at her in wonder. “Is that the human word for it?”

“Mm. Not exactly.” Keith’s expression eased into a sheepish smile. “Some Terrans can do something like it. Humans can’t, though.”

Shiro nodded thoughtfully. “It’s not common to all Galra, either.”

Zarkon’s empire didn’t much care for sentimental traditions, after all. Shiro wouldn’t have been surprised if her family’s heartsong was all but lost to the passing clouds of history. It was a relief to hear some form of it existed on Keith’s home planet, even if the meaning was different.

“I’ve never sung for anyone outside my clan before,” she confided.

There was a time, confined in the dank depths of Zarkon’s prison, when Shiro thought her heart would never sing again. She never would have thought she’d one day meet a girl who filled her life with music.

Keith’s eyes went soft, brimming with understanding and compassion— never pity. As always, she understood the words Shiro didn’t say.

She tipped her chin forward invitingly, squeezing the hand still entwined with Shiro’s. “Will you sing for me some more?”

Faced with Keith’s smile, Shiro didn’t think she could have stopped her heart from singing, even if she wanted to.

The melody poured from deep within her, ebbing and flowing, falling and rising in blissful crescendos. As long as she stayed close to Keith, she felt like it might never stop.

Shiro let her weight tip forward, nose brushing through the hair at Keith’s temple. The slow crackle of her song swelled into a constant hum as she nuzzled there.

Slowly, all remaining tension seeped out of Keith’s shoulders. Her head tipped sideways, leaning into Shiro’s touch— welcoming her. Shiro sang louder in gratitude, nose trailing to Keith’s cheekbone, then down to trace the shape of her jaw.

She tugged, bringing Keith yet closer until her own broad knees framed Keith’s, and brought Keith’s hands to rest against her shoulders, squeezing once before letting go. Shiro leaned closer again so her forehead pressed to Keith’s, almost too close to see the deep nebula blue of her eyes, and nuzzled the bridge of Keith’s nose. Her hands drifted up to touch the sharp cut of Keith’s jaw before slipping down to tease at the zipper holding her collar in place.

“May I?” she asked again.

She heard Keith’s sharp inhale, felt the flex of Keith’s throat against the press of her thumb.

“Yeah,” Keith breathed.

Shiro tugged the zipper down, baring the tender curve of Keith’s throat, the perfect slope of her collarbones, the hint of small breasts concealed beneath the black undergarment she wore. Her stomach rose and fell shakily in lean muscled lines. Shiro wanted to bury her face in Keith’s skin, lick along the tone of her abs, but she held herself back.

All in good time.

She brushed back Keith’s hair, tracing the shell of one flushed ear with a tender claw. The tip of Keith’s ear came to a soft point, not quite as rounded as Shiro had observed from the rest of Keith’s human companions. Perhaps Keith carried more hints of her Galra heritage than she had realized.

Keith shivered under Shiro’s attentions, jaw working, but she didn’t seem uncomfortable. Her small hands traveled up Shiro’s neck, blunt claws scratching pleasantly into the thicker fur at her nape. Shiro’s heart swooped in a low rattling melody. She dipped her head encouragingly into Keith’s hands while her own fingers wandered back into the silken mane of Keith’s hair.

Emboldened, Keith’s touch wandered up, scruffing through the soft buzz of Shiro’s undercut, until she found the spot just behind Shiro’s twitching ears.

Shiro couldn’t contain the way her breath shuddered in her throat. She pressed her forehead into Keith’s temple, eyes closed, and allowed herself the smallest pleading whine.

Keith’s fingers rubbed at the backs of her ears, thumbs sliding around to smooth over the tufted fur along the tapered shell. Shiro’s song rumbled loud and obvious, claws flexing against Keith’s scalp as she arched her neck into the touch.

Keith huffed a laugh, soft with wonder. “Feels good, huh?”

Shiro couldn’t remember the last time anything felt this good. Each scrape of Keith’s hands sent tiny sparks shivering down her spine and through her limbs, claws snagging in the blankets as her toes curled.

She needed Keith to feel this good, too.

Shiro raked her claws through Keith’s hair, reveling in the way Keith shuddered as they scraped against her scalp. One claw hooked into the elastic band around Keith’s half ponytail, slicing deliberately. The rest of Keith’s hair tumbled down in a luxurious wave, accompanied by another whiff of her shampoo. Shiro inhaled the soothing scent without shame.

Her fingers spread until her hand cupped the back of Keith’s skull, her grip tender and secure, claws still kissing lightly against Keith’s skin. The sound rising from Keith’s chest hitched, halfway between a sigh and a moan. The tightening of her fingers around Shiro’s ears was nothing short of glorious.

Shiro let her weight pitch forward, chest pressing against Keith’s while her prosthetic pushed gently at Keith’s shoulder. Keith got the message immediately, letting Shiro guide her back into the nest. Her black hair spilled over the red blanket like the night sky swallowing the last rays of sunset. Shiro draped over her carefully, not settling until Keith’s arms moved to squeeze invitingly around her shoulders.

Shiro sank into Keith, face buried in the bend of her neck, breathing her in.

She nuzzled first at the jagged scar over Keith’s right shoulder, partly shrouded by the strap of her garment. She remembered participating in the Trials when Keith first sustained the wound. How Keith fought, varga after varga, refusing to admit defeat.

Thanks to her mixed Altean ancestry several generations back, Shiro was on the smaller side for a Galra, but she still towered head and shoulders above the Red Paladin. This didn’t stop Keith from dodging effortlessly under Shiro’s arm and throwing the larger Blade over her shoulder. Shiro had learned very quickly not to underestimate Keith for any reason, least of all her diminutive height.

And now Keith splayed out on Shiro’s blanket, limbs loose and eyes half-lidded, accepting Shiro’s warmth and providing her own in turn.

Shiro vowed she would never take this softness between them for granted.

Keith snuggled close, nosing into the unruly floof of Shiro’s hair. Her fingers scrubbed idly through the ruff at the back of Shiro’s neck.

At first Shiro thought Keith was humming softly— she’d heard Keith’s quiet melodies sometimes while Keith was piloting. But as she nestled her head over Keith’s heart, she felt faint vibrations under her ear, quiet but strong.

She pushed up as far as she could within the circle of Keith’s arms, gazing down at her in star-struck wonder. “Keith!”

Keith pressed a hand to her chest, eyes wide and open with surprise.

“The heartsong,” Shiro breathed. “You’re singing for me.”

“I couldn’t… I never…” Keith gulped. “I didn’t know I could.”

She offered a sappy smile, eyes shining.

“I guess I just needed someone worth singing for.”

She chuckled softly as Shiro dove back in, nuzzling at her neck and chest with even more enthusiasm. Shiro wanted to press as close as she could, to lose herself completely in the voice of Keith’s heart.

She nuzzled at the bottom hem of Keith’s garment, just the barest tease, before moving down further, savoring the taut line of her stomach. When she reached Keith’s belly button, she pressed in close until she was saturated in the scent of Keith’s skin, nuzzling and singing loudly.

Keith’s muscles jumped, her song cutting off in a snort of laughter as she pushed at Shiro’s head.

“Stop,” she wheezed around a giggle. “Tickles.”

Shiro relented when Keith’s fingers snagged in her forelock and tugged. She let Keith pull her face up, resting her chin on Keith’s stomach and beaming toothily up at her.

Keith rolled her eyes, but even biting her lips didn’t hold back her smile. The deep magenta flush of her cheeks seeped like spilled wine down her neck.

She tightened her grip on Shiro’s white bangs and gave another pointed yank. “Come here.”

The command may have been a grumble, but it couldn’t hide the warmth in Keith’s voice. Shiro eagerly climbed back up Keith’s body, flopping down beside her and pulling her into her arms.

“Ooof,” Keith chuckled, relaxing into the change in position. Her hands scratched through Shiro’s hair again, drawing out another decadent croon. “Can’t decide if you’re a kitten or a puppy.”

Shiro nuzzled close again to rest their foreheads together. Her hands wrapped around Keith’s back and shoulders, cuddling her tightly.

“I’m yours,” she whispered.

Keith sucked in a breath. She slid her hands down, fingers smoothing the delicate fur of Shiro’s jaw, until her hands tentatively cupped either side of Shiro’s face. Her eyes drifted down to Shiro’s lips before flicking back up to meet her gaze.

“Humans don’t have the heartsong,” Keith said, “but there’s something else they do.”

Shiro’s heart leapt with a resonant note to match her smile. “Show me?”

Keith shifted closer, so that her nose bumped up against Shiro’s. She tilted her head just enough to tentatively press their lips together.

The melody of their hearts twined between them, blending their songs together in brilliant harmony.