Shiro hangs the last of their damp winter clothes in front of the roaring fireplace to dry. On the floor behind him, Allura’s bundled up in a cocoon of soft blankets and pillows. Her white hair curls around her bare shoulders, like a veil, and her dark skin is glowing in the warmth of the fireplace. She smiles sleepily and reaches a hand out, playfully beckoning him over with the wriggling of her fingers. In this moment, she’s relaxed and unguarded, her walls completely down, all for him.
He takes a long moment to stand there in his sweatpants admiring just how soft and welcoming she looks—like home. Kneeling beside her, he takes her fingers between his own and kisses at her wrist, and then up her arm. Like a wing, Allura lifts the blanket up with ease to let him join her on the floor.
She traces delicate fingers along the scars on Shiro’s chest in the warm light and listens closely to his slowed breathing. His eyes sleepily blink open every minute or two to watch, a small grin pulling at his lips.
“Comfortable?” He yawns.
“Yes.” A laugh escapes Allura as she presses her hands against his chest. “Are you?”