Warnings/disclaimer:
- Wrote this on my phone with no beta - Talk of torture and imprisonment - These two totally have PTSD - Coping methods and OCD/anxiety - Kind of a fluff and hurt/comfort story - Can be taken as totally friends or platonic or as a ship - Not as dark as I am making it sound - Possible triggers
- I do not own Voltron LD nor any of the characters
They'd come across a place that sold some Bytor clothing when (to everyone's surprise) Shiro mentioned that Slav was still dressed in a standard Galra prisoner's uniform. Not a very good thing to do when you're a highly sought after fugitive and happen to have no change of clothes.
With a little prompting on Shiro's part, they bought the cheapest set of clothing they could (which ironically looked very similar to his prison jumpsuit). The main difference was the fact that the outfit was a separated top and bottom instead of one whole suite. It was still grey (if a bit darker) and still equipped with four centered hand pouches on the shirt. Not the best they could have done, but not every planet and vendor seemed to understand that fighting the entire bloody Galra empire doesn't pay well.
The rest of the money went towards food. Hunk actually teared up a little when they couldn't pay for that one unique spice (that closely resembled garlic salt with a dash of zest) he uses so much lately due to their impromptu purchase.
As they exited the shuttle pod to help restock the kitchen, the young paladins were once again surprised to see Shiro take the clothing bag and shuffle off in the opposite direction.
They'd noticed their leader had been somewhat calmer around the scientist lately, yet still confused as to why Shiro would insist on taking him clothes (or even suggest getting him clothes in the first place) but all was quickly forgotten as Hunk egged everyone on by offering to cook a proper dessert.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Shiro was quite unfazed to find his room occupied by Slav rearranging his blankets. In fact, it was quite expected at this point. Whenever Shiro or any paladin left the castle, the Bytor would fix their covers just right to ensure an 8% increase in their return. The fact Slav always took extra time to set up Shiro's blanket was also expected.
They'd found an inch of comfort in each other's presence the last few days. More so for Slav than the black paladin, but still... It felt good to know someone else at least understood a little about galra imprisonment. It also felt like a great way to apologize without speaking... to offer comfort in the night for a fellow escapee.
Sleep doesn't come easy to Shiro, but apparently neither does it for Slav. (Seems the dark bags beneath the scientist's eyes aren't just a quirk for Bytors). Sleeping by himself reminds him of Beta Traz, so he comes here to catch a few Z's.
Said scientist turns to face Shiro with a look of triumph, as if his blanket rearranging skills had proven successful. Before the alien could speak Shiro offered the bag, which Slav took (a little hesitantly). The man could imagine gears turning inside the Bytor's head as he examined the contents of the bag.
"My kind are not that common. There was less than an 18% chance of Bytor clothing on that planet and less than 3% chance of finding a store that sells them... What are they for?"
Shiro took the percentage babble as a compliment and smiled, "I thought you would like a change of clothes instead of wearing the same thing every day."
The scientist pulls out the shirt and sighs (the paladin had rein in the urge to twitch his left eye).
"A little big..."
Great. He didn't buy Hunk's seasoning just to wind up with a useless pair of Bytor clothing. What would a little room hurt? Seriously? Shiro was not in the mood to hear why loose clothes would somehow end in death because they could snag on something or that the shade of grey was unlucky-
"Could you help me?"
Slav's wringing his top pair of hands anxiously... Shiro realizes his own jaw had gone slack and his eyes wide.
Arms waving wildly, the Bytor tries to excuse himself from the room, but the man intercepts.
"Okay, what is it you need help with?"
Again with the nervous hands. Slav takes a deep breath and then another before stealing his gaze.
"This suit is rather difficult for me. A foolhardy design to make a one-piece uniform without integrating something as simple as buttons or a zipper-" Slav had been improving as well, catching himself before he gets too far into facts others found to needless. "I can do it by myself, but it would be significantly easier if I had help getting the collar past my first two sets of shoulders. It would also decrease my average time by 47.6%."
Ah. Yes he can relate. Galra prison uniforms are made to be low-maintenance, one-size-fits-all, cheap things. He could see why that elastic suit would be difficult to slide over four whole sets of shoulders... Still.
He must have made a face again because Slav shuffles back a little.
"I know many species would be uncomfortable in these kids of situations, 81.359% in this reality to be exact, but I just need a little help then I can finish on my own. In the highly likely event I'm asking for too mich, I apologize for imposing."
"No,no." Shiro insists, "It was just a little unexpected. I'd be happy to help."
He steps behind Slav to prove his initiative and carefully hooks his thumbs around the suit's collar. He hopes he doesn't seem too forceful, but it would be best to just get it over with instead of talking about it (and Slav is quite the expert at drawing out a conversation).
Given a small nod, the paladin begins to pull out and down nice and slowly. It's just enough space for the Bytor to work his first two arms free of the sleeves one at a time. The cheap elastic clung tightly enough to be flipped inside out as the scientist retracted his hands from the grabby cloth. Once the first set are cleared he continues lower. His second left arm is out followed by... What are those?
Shiro pulls down a little more to be greeted by very familiar markings that make his nose twitch on instinct.
Scars? One, two, three, four, five all in a row. They're not quite so thick and jagged as the paladin's own. Instead, they are all clean cut and precise. All grouped together instead of spread out. Very deliberate and not simply a lucky swing of a weapon or graze of a claw.
The spot the Galra had connected the prosthetic arm to his stump ached just looking at the thin lines... That too had been deliberate.
He'd seen marks like these only three times during his entire imprisonment. They were torture scars for those who openly displayed low pain tolerance. They would cut five stripes and let them heal only to cut five more stripes in the same exact spot. It was more of a sport for the interrogators than a serious way to glean any real information. The goal was to inflict the finest/cleanest scars they possibly could. It was like a signature to them. The better the signature, the better the interrogator must be... And these are very fine scars on the Bytor's back.
Shiro hadn't noticed when his hands had progressed past Slav's third set of arms and then froze completely before the fourth set, his focus entirely aimed at the markings. Slav's trying to tell him something but it goes ignored. His real hand brushes against pale lines.
"I thought you said they used a special helmet to get information. Why are these here?"
The scientist takes a step forward and turns to face the paladin.
"A Cranial Data Extraction Modulator, yes. But if those were easy to build and readily available, no one would use regular torture methods. The modulator ensures a 305.9% increase in gathering correct data from an unwilling subject. The Galra had yet to begin its construction on Beta Traz until after they had captured me..." he pauses, which simply isn't something he does often, and shifts uneasily. "The Galra are not a patient people. They wanted to start as soon as possible, with or without the modulator."
Every scar on Shiro's body is itching now.
The Bytor grabs the new top and the bag with the bottoms, then makes his way over to the bathroom. It looks almost comical to see his prison uniform scrunched down like a pair of extra baggy pants.
"I hope you don't mind me using your lavatory. I'd rather not walk through the castle as I am though."
The man can't help his growing smile. He hopes this doesn't lead to some long rant about something or another, but the words are out before he can stop himself.
"Are you part of the 81.359%?"
"Very much so." Slav replys without hesitation, closing the bathroom door behind him.
Whether he's reading to far into this or not, Shiro takes that as Slav admitting he trusts him. Although he has yet to really gage how important trust is to the Bytor (tough thing to do when his first words to you are: Are you here to torture me? And then moments later he trusts you because of the mention of the color blue) but it's still comforting.
If I turn this from a oneshot to a multi-chaptered story (which is highly unlikely) it will become a Shlav fic.