It's me! I'm back and writing VLD fics again! (I used to be Gravtron1)
Gosh! it feels so good to be back where I belong! I'm going to make the most of every day! (Yes. Those are lyrics from We're Back, in the Phineas and Ferb Movie: Candace Against the Universe.)
(:)
Shiro spent a total of ten doboshes out of the cryo pod before Keith was ushering the other Paladins - Krolia, Romelle, Coran, and the animals included - out of the Black Lion. Keith returned shortly thereafter to escort Shiro to a different, smaller cargo hold in the Black Lion, worry plastered on his face.
"Here," he said, gesturing in. "Uh, you can have this as your personal quarters for the time being. Black has a built in bathroom across the hall, though you probably already knew that from living in him for so long…" Keith's eyebrows knit together, and his shoulders tensed. "You can get some rest, if you want. Com me if you need anything."
"Sounds great, Keith." Shiro told him, patting his honorary brother on the shoulder with his one hand, glancing over the cargo hold. It had the bare necessities; two blankets and a pillow, along with a box that was cleared filled with Shiro's clothes; his old ones and the clone's. Shiro also had the armor he was wearing in addition. "I'll let you know."
"Alright. Great." Keith paused at the doorway; even when Shiro entered the room. "The others are also available to come around if you want, too. Take as much time to get back on your feet as you need. And, um, I think Hunk's starting dinner. I can bring you something if you want, alright?"
"No need." Shiro assured, determined to be there for the meal. "I'll be fine."
Keith hesitated for a bit longer, then nodded. "If that's what you want." He retreated, closing the door behind him, footsteps echoing down the Black Lion's corridor.
Shiro waited until he was gone before deciding what to do. He absolutely was not going to wear the clone's clothes under any circumstances, and crammed them in Black's crash compactor. Black seemed all too willing to comply.
Shiro considered wearing his old outfit, but decided against it. The clothes would make him want to relax. And relaxing was the last thing he should be doing, sans Keith's instructions.
Shiro went to the bathroom effective immediately. And promptly took a shower. He cleaned the armor, too, so it wasn't quite as dusty as it had been. (He made sure to get rid of the bloodstains. It was especially wrong to leave those on; it was like he was wearing Keith's blood as a trophy.)
Once everything was clean, he trimmed his hair back to his undercut look. It wasn't noticeable with the white hair, but the effect was the same. He felt cleaner.
He excited the Black Lion shortly after, feeling fresher.
Everyone else was in a circle; surrounding a campfire in the middle of the Lions.
Hunk was serving some stew out of a big pot, and those already with a bowl were slurping it down.
He slipped between Hunk and Romelle, amused by how long it took them to notice. Hunk turned to hand a bowl of stew to Romelle, freezing when he realized the young Altean was no longer beside him, and instead… it was Shiro.
Shiro took the bowl from Hunk - no fight given on the Yellow Paladin's part - and turned to Romelle, handing it to her.
Romelle took it, but not before glancing up at him, eyebrows pinched. Her fingers brushed along her forehead, running along a bruise, but she did a great job of not freezing up. She was just… surprised by his sudden appearance. Nothing else.
Shiro turned back to discover the rest of the Paladins staring at him in shock, with the exception of Krolia and Keith's wolf, who just sat silently off to the side while lapping up their stew.
"Hi." Shiro greeted, uncertain of what else to say. If his clone's memory served, he spent about three movements sulking in his room after being recovered from the Galra fighter, only allowing Keith to visit. Now, it had been hardly half a varga since coming out of the cryopod. It was understandable why they were so shocked; they figured he'd become reclusive again.
Hunk, as the first to notice, was also the first to recover. "Oh, uh, hi, Shiro! Good to see you. Do you want some stew?"
Shiro checked to make sure everyone else had gotten their bowls first before nodding. "Thanks, Hunk. That'd be great."
Hunk grabbed a spare bowl from the set behind him, serving up a large amount of stew into the bowl and handing it over to Shiro.
Bliss. After so long of not eating - himself, and not his clone - Shiro was fairly certain anything would taste good, even things that previously he would only force himself to eat out or politeness. But Hunk had made sure to make one of Shiro's personal favorites, based around the hope that Shiro would eat. (Whether it be Keith brining food to serve him or if Shiro maaaaybe would come down to eat of his own accord.) Stew was almost always good, but Hunk had made certain this one contained Shiro's favorite flavors. It was heavenly.
"This is amazing!" Shiro gushed, having to force himself to take it slow like a normal human being instead of stuffing himself. But, oh, the urge was there.
Hunk seemed utterly baffled by the praise, and Shiro remembered with horror how the clone never praised the chef for any of his hard work. In fact, the Shiro-clone seemed bent on not being happy or thankful ever. No matter what they did.
"How'd you make it?" Shiro inquired between two mouthfuls, tilting his head at the chef.
"Well, it's mostly sausage and potatoes, but it's also boiled in water, parsley, olive oil, basil, salt, and pepper." Hunk jumped right in, his confusion clouded out by his need to share it. "Added with creamed corn, kernel corn, and evaporated milk! Of course, we don't have all of those in space, so I make do with substitutes; some are even better then the original recipe! Everything has to be cut just right; because if the chunks are too big, they ran the chance of being undercooked. Too small, and they could've been overcooked and just… slop. Trust me, that isn't the way to go. So, everything has to be cut in accordance to each other and then flavored so each seasoning wouldn't overpower the others. But not too much or else it'll be a lot of flavors all at once and too little will taste bland. It has to be an exact measurement!"
"Ah, overflavored isn't too bad!" Lance comforted, leaning over to pat Hunk on the back. "It makes my adrenaline run."
Keith stuck out his tongue. "I'm not sure if I could handle that much spices. I grew up to little to no spices, no even salt, so the sudden rush would probably make me hurl."
"You both need help." Hunk huffed. "Lance, you're going to make me reset all my hard work on Keith and make him start eating like he's scavenging for food again. And Keith, you're scaring me! Get used to the spices, dang it!"
Keith held up his hands in surrender, looking a little awkward as his past situation was brought up. He didn't like talking about those four years of desperate survival; Shiro doesn't blame him. But they affected him badly enough that Keith, nearly a decade later for him, still has it ground into his mind that he could only survive; never thrive. Shiro didn't even know that the rest of the team knew.
"Well, this is excellent, Hunk." Shiro balanced the bowl carefully on his thigh, giving Hunk the 'okay' symbol with his only hand. "Easily one of the best meals I've ever had." The best, but it was possible that it was just from not having real food for about a year.
Hunk looked very pleased at the praise, reddening slightly in an embarrassed blush. "Aw, stop it."
Shiro smiled crookedly at Hunk, amused. "No, really. Nicely done." Then a little lower so that nobody could hear except Hunk, he uttered, "You've done good, Hunk. Uniting team Voltron and the coalition together through your big heart."
Hunk collapsed inwards, the tension in his shoulders, which had lingered through the whole conversation, gone. Tears were in his eyes, because someone had noticed all his efforts to keep everyone together and united.
Though hesitantly, Hunk seemed all to eager to lean into Shiro, allowing his head to rest on the older man's shoulder.
Shiro hugged him back as best he could, which wasn't saying much since his only hand was on the other side of his body and he didn't want to tip over the stew by shifted so he could properly embrace, so the best he could do was rest his head over Hunk's.
The stew Hunk made is fairly popular in my family. It's soooo good, and I imagine it as the kind of thing the Paladins would like.
Also, Hunk's probably a perfectionist when it comes to food. We ain't. We just stab the closest potato in the stew and go "welp, feels soft. It's done. Time for dinner." Which makes sense to me for a single meal, but Hunk probably does a lot more effort then that. Hunk is best boi.