She’d lost track of how many vargas had gone by, how many cups of kava they’d had, or how many topics they’d covered. They were well into the night cycle by now, certainly, but without looking at a ticker, Allura had no idea how far along they were. Doubtless Coranny the Nanny would’ve scolded her for even a single dobosh.
	She had been sitting, going over the approach vectors for the next mission, when Shiro had come in. He walked past her, then backed up and indicated one in particular. She’d asked why that one, he’d answered, she’d pointed out something he hadn’t thought of, he’d agreed…
	And now here they were, however many vargas later. They’d had kava and some light snacks and what had started with astrophysics and mission protocols had segued into training at the Garrison and lessons with the very best tutors on Altea. From there, they went on with what they’d done when they’d had time off. Shiro had told her about some Earth festivals and she’d responded with Altean ones. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d whiled away so many vargas with a single person, just talking.
	“And what’d you say you do at the Summer Berry Festival?” Shiro asked her. “The name of that one dance? Pewtesef?”
	Allura nearly snorted kava up her nose. She practically slammed the cup down as she tried not to choke on it.
	“Allura! I’m sorry! What did I do?” 
	She was vaguely aware that he’d come around to stand next to her, hand on her back, and he sounded worried, but as soon as she’d cleared the kava out, she started laughing.
	“What?” He still sounded confused, and that only made her laugh harder. His hand pulled away from her back.
	“Y-you…” She had to try to gather air and somehow find a way to stop laughing long enough to explain.
	He retreated to his chair opposite her, still looking puzzled. 
	Eventually she gave up trying to say it. She waved up a screen, put in the words she was trying to say, and sent it over to him. She couldn’t help watching his face for the moment he realized that in trying to pronounce the name of the ritual dance of the summer, he had, instead, described a bodily function not brought up in polite company. 
	“OH,” was all he said, face already turning red.
	She collapsed back against her chair, holding her middle as she laughed helplessly. Part of her mind worried that it would upset him, but she honestly couldn’t stop right now. All she could do was ride the mirth and try to keep breathing.
	Fortunately, she heard Shiro laughing, too. It broke whatever last restraint she still had, and she was outright guffawing.
	“I-I’m so sorry,” Shiro managed through his own giggles.
	Allura shook her head and tried to wave his unnecessary apology away, but she still couldn’t speak. Tears were welling up, and when she chanced a look at Shiro, he was still red through his laughter. That wasn’t helping. She couldn’t even keep her eyes open through the merriment.
	When had she last laughed this hard, this long? When had she last done more than giggle? It’d obviously been over ten thousand years ago, but it was hard to recall the last time in waking memory. There hadn’t been much to laugh about during the war.
	It felt good, replenishing in a way (even as her sides started to hurt). She made a note to thank him for this when she stopped. Even if this was the first time he’d ever made her laugh this hard, it wasn’t surprising to her that it was Shiro. He had never been anything but a help to her: steady, reliable, supportive when she so badly needed it. She had never had any reason to question him.
	She could never have had a moment like this with anyone else. She wouldn’t have felt free to discuss such personal topics in the first place. Something about being with Shiro made her feel safe enough to relax, to smile, and to laugh. It was so wonderful, so freeing, so warm…
	Wait, warm? She took mental stock of where she felt warm to try to figure out why. My eyemarks…
	That stopped her laughing almost instantly. She opened her eyes and almost immediately caught a faint pink blur at the bottom edge of her vision. 
	OH. 
	While she tried to catch her breath, her mind sought some other explanation. But it was pointless: she was glowing. Or, at least, her eyemarks were.
	She ducked her head and tried to comb some of her hair in front of her face without making it look like that was what she was doing. Just a sort of casual… hair styling… thing. She wasn’t hiding her glowing eyemarks, no, of course not. 
	She wasn’t all that surprised she was glowing; it was just that she hadn’t realized how deep the connection to him had become. But the feelings themselves: the warm security, the way she always felt like smiling when she saw him, how easy it was to just breathe and be herself when he was around? No, she’d known about those for a long time. And now, apparently, he’d know as well, whether she wanted him to or not.
	But then it occurred to her that perhaps he didn’t know what this meant. Humans didn’t have eyemarks, after all. So it was quite possible that he was unaware. If asked, she could give him any reason at all for…
	No. No, I’d have to tell him the truth. She’d never lied to him before and she wasn’t about to start now. She’d hidden things, yes, but she’d also promised to stop doing that. He deserved the truth, as awkward as it would be to explain. 
	How would I even start? Should I just blurt it out? ‘Oh? This? It’s just because I care for you so strongly, that’s all.’ That didn’t sound reasonable. It was too laconic. And if he didn’t feel the same for her? They had to work together, for the universe, and she had no doubt that he would continue to fight alongside her regardless, but ugh, how awkward and embarrassing would that be?
	She didn’t want to lose this.
	She risked looking up at him again, afraid he’d be staring at her in confusion, the question already on his lips, and then she’d have to answer, and then…
	He was looking at his arm. It was glowing faintly, the light softly purple and running along his hand and forearm. This wasn’t the same as when he powered it up deliberately; if he was confused by anything, it seemed to be about this, not her.
	But surely that’s not the same thing… is it?
	But then he glanced up at her. Their gazes met, and she couldn’t look away.
	She forgot about her eyemarks glowing, about her embarrassment and anxiety, about everything that wasn’t Shiro’s eyes, dark and deep enough to fall into. He was looking at her with such soft awe. She’d been breathless with amusement just a few moments ago and now she was so rapt upon that look in his eyes that she might have stopped breathing entirely.
	He leaned towards her.
	She mirrored the movement automatically. She couldn’t have done anything else.
	He rose a little from his seat so he could close more distance despite the table between them.
	She did the same, already anticipating the inevitable. His name was on her lips, ready to be whispered against his own.
	“Oh now honestly!” 
	Allura practically slammed herself back into her seat, head whipping towards the door. 
	Coran was standing in the doorway. “What do you two think you’re doing?”
	She looked back to Shiro instinctively, because she had no idea what to say just now, and he was the one she could always look to for help. But he seemed as lost as she was. She turned back to Coran, trying to summon words. Her whole face felt hot now, not just her eyemarks.
	“You’re still awake?!” Coran demanded in outrage. “At this varga?! You’ve been up all night again, haven’t you?”
	She blinked and then latched onto the lifeline. “I was just about to…”
	“Go to bed? Right, yes, of course you were… about five vargas ago! Off you go, the both of you, this instant!” he insisted, pointing imperiously towards the sleeping quarters.
	Shiro stood. “Of course.” He turned to her. “I’m sorry I kept you awake all this time.”
	“Oh, nonsense.” She rose from her own chair. “I’m as guilty as you are.” She risked putting a hand on his shoulder. “Please go get some rest.”
	He looked into her eyes and nodded once. “You, too.”
	“We’ll talk more later,” she promised.
	“After a decent amount of rest!” Coran interjected. 
	She dropped her hand from Shiro and rolled her eyes as she looked back to her supposed advisor. “Yes, yes. I’m going already.”
	“I don’t want to see you up and about for at least six vargas!” 
	“You’re such a nanny,” she told him as she passed him. 
	“I am not and it’s for your own good.”
	But now that she was behind Coran, she risked a look back at Shiro. He smiled, his arm glowing again for a reason beyond fighting. She smiled warmly as the pink glow softened the edges of her vision. “Good night, Shiro.”
	“Good night, Allura.”