Chapter Text
Shiro has the Galra scientist backed into a corner, her yellow eyes glancing frantically for an escape route, but there’s not so much as an air vent in sight. The voices of the other paladins come through his helmet comm, all breathless and tense, caught up in combat elsewhere. After years battling the Galra empire together, Shiro’s confident in their abilities, apparently more so than they are in his.
“Shiro, wait for us to get there,” Keith orders, having well and truly settled into his leadership.
“Can’t,” Shiro surmises. “No time.”
If he doesn’t keep the pressure on her she’ll escape their grasp and not for the first time; she’s been a slippery one, they’ve been chasing her for months. That ends, here and now.
“There’s nowhere for you to run,” Shiro tells her, approaching cautiously. “You have no option but to surrender.”
The Galra snarls and curses under her breath before turning to Shiro, looking annoyed but not like someone who’s surrendering. “I didn’t want to waste this on the likes of you,” she hisses, drawing an odd gun shaped object from her robe and pulling the trigger.
Alert and prepared, Shiro dives away but the heat-seeker projectile follows him, hitting him in the chest with a surprisingly squishy softness and bursting into a plume of bright blue smoke. He frowns in confusion, wafting away the smoke easily. It barely hindered him… So, why does she look so smug?
Then Shiro feels it. His skin shivers, muscles flexing and twisting uncomfortably and the agonising shift of bone makes him double over. His helmet falls to the ground, he can hear his teammates desperately seeking a response from him but he can’t speak, his tongue feels too big and awkward in his mouth. And he’s… shrinking?
Breathing out a slow, controlled breath, Lance sights two Galra soldiers sneaking up behind Keith in his scope and drops them before Keith even notices their presence.
“Shiro?” Pidge questions, voice tense with worry. “Quiznak! Something’s wrong. The sensors in that quadrant are down, I’ll go and—”
“No, Pidge,” Lance interrupts, jumping down from his sniping perch. “I’ll go, you need to help Keith and Hunk get into that barracks. They’re priority, remember?”
In all honesty, from the moment Shiro ran off after the Galra Scientist he’s been twitchy and fidgeting, desperately wanting to race after him. They’ve had a few encounters with her and all know how dangerous she is. Lance trusts Shiro with anything, knows how dependable and strong he is, but can’t stop himself from worrying. He needs to know Shiro’s okay.
“Keith, watch your arse, I’m sick of watching it for you,” Lance adds, gripping his rifle to his chest as he runs through the drab Galra corridors.
“You’ve been watching my arse?” Keith questions, amusement clear in his voice.
“I don’t know, man, turn around and check out those twelve unconscious Galra soldiers and you tell me.”
“I’ll take over watching Keith’s arse,” Pidge huffs with exasperation. “Lance can you just focus please, Shiro might be in serious trouble.”
“Oh, come on, Pidge. It’s Shiro,” Lance says, even as his heart clenches with the thought of Shiro getting hurt. “He’s our best soldier. What’s the worst that could—?”
Lance turns a corner and is sent sprawling, gun skittering across the metal floor and helmeted head hitting the wall with a dizzying crunch. He groans, holding his head as he tries to sit upright and blinks a few times before the blurring of his vision fades. His helmet took the likely fatal force of the impact, but Lance still feels like he’s tumbled down an elevator shaft. Again.
There’s someone standing before him and his overly hopeful mind thinks it’s Shiro, until he glances up and sees the Galra Scientist smirking down at him. She’s holding a Galra gun, aimed at his head. Lance groans and croaks into his communicator for assistance, but no response comes. He must have damaged it when he fell.
“Two down, three to go. Say goodnight, pathetic little paladin,” she says, smiling gleefully.
Lance tenses, trying to think of a way out of this, but his mind is too fuzzy. Her finger pulls firmly at the trigger—
A savage snarl tears down the corridor, echoing around the metal structure, and suddenly a giant black wolf leaps at the Galra Scientist. She shrieks and stumbles as the beast rips the gun from her hand and lands steadily in front of Lance.
The wolf is huge, it has long legs and a solid body covered in a thick coat of silky, black fur. It’s beautiful and terrifying, like something out of a fairy-tale. And it’s standing protectively between Lance and the Galra Scientist, growling, deep and rumbling low in its chest. Lance shakes his head and blinks a few more times, just to make sure he isn’t seeing things. Apparently, he isn’t.
She hisses with irritation and the wolf doesn’t seem to like that, lunging at her again. Lance watches them grapple with each other for a moment. Galra are incredibly strong and this one is rather fast, somehow avoiding those wicked sharp fangs. The wolf is quick and dangerous, snapping and snarling…
Lance really doesn’t want to have to face the wolf when it’s finished eating the Galra scientist, so he slowly, cautiously creeps across the floor to where his rifle landed. Feeling so much safer with it in his hands he turns back to the fight to see the Galra scientist pinning the wolf against the wall.
The wolf whimpers and whines, pained and begging for help, and Lance feels it like a punch in the gut. Somehow he knows he needs to protect the wolf.
Aiming and firing automatically, Lance renders the Galra scientist unconscious. The wolf falls to the floor with her, and Lance expects it to go for her throat, confirm the kill or something to make sure she’s no longer a threat. That’s what wolves do isn’t it? Instead the wolf backs away from her warily, moving over to Lance as if seeking comfort.
“Woah, woah, woah!” Lance says, a little hysterically as he scrambles backwards quickly until he hits the wall. He aims his rifle but really doesn’t want to hurt the animal. It did just save his life. “No doggy, no! Sit! Stay!”
The wolf does as it’s told, drawing short of him uncertainly and tilting its head. With Lance sitting on the ground, the wolf’s head is at the same height as his own and which is utterly fucking petrifying. Looking at it more closely though, it looks vaguely familiar, with a pale pink scar across its muzzle and that patch of white fur on its forehead and the mechanical leg and the way it seems to be judging him with a thoroughly unimpressed expression…
Lance’s eyes widen. “Sh-Shiro…?”
The wolf’s tail starts to swish happily and it creeps forward slightly, as if seeking permission. Lance carefully offers his hand for the wolf to sniff and does his best not to wince as it draws closer. The wolf – Shiro? – presses his muzzle into Lance’s gloved palm and snorts, nudging him with annoyance.
“Okay, okay, I get it, you’re not going to hurt me,” Lance relents, dropping his hand and examining the wolf. Lance squints. “If you’re really Shiro, prove it.”
He huffs and trots down the corridor a little ways, turning back to Lance with an instructive bark. Lance groans, unsteadily rising to his feet and leaning heavily against the wall, his head spinning a little. The wolf nudges at his hip and tucks itself against Lance’s side, not tall enough to support him but trying to do so anyway.
“I’m fine, buddy. Thanks,” Lance says, petting the wolves head. “C’mon, lead the way.”
As Lance follows the great black wolf down the corridor, he seriously considers the possibility that this is a figment of his imagination and he’s lying unconscious in a cold Galra corridor. Or dead. Black wolves symbolise death don’t they?
Lance spots a heap of white and black paladin armour on the ground and starts running, the wolf trotting along beside him. He skids to a halt, but it’s only Shiro’s empty armour. He kneels before it and rummages through for any hint or clue.
“Well, you’re a great wingman and as much I’d love to see Shiro naked, this is serious. Do you know where he went from here?” Lance questions.
The wolf stares at him for a moment before plonking down and actually rolling it’s freaking eyes at him.
“Okay, you’re no help,” Lance bristles, facing the wolf. “You’re a very pretty puppy and I’d love to have a big badass wolf sidekick, because, well, for obvious awesome reasons. But you gotta convince me here, dude. Shiro would understand that I can’t just go around trusting random animals I meet that are trying to convince me they’re my teammates. Because if you aren’t Shiro, I have to find him. He’s—He’s too important. Understand?”
The wolf’s expression seems to soften, his grey eyes blinking with comprehension and surprise. If he is Shiro he wouldn’t be surprised that Lance would be worried for him, would he? Maybe it was the way his voice broke.
The wolf huffs and nods his head with affirmation.
“So, what we have to do – well, what I have to do – is think of a way that you can convince me you’re Shiro, since you clearly don’t have any cool animal telepathy…” Lance trails off, thinking of a yes or no question to ask. But that would be too easy to guess. “What about… How old am I?”
The wolf taps his foot on the ground and looks up at Lance expectantly, so Lance starts counting.
“Right, twenty one, but that’s… Any Galra could know that too,” Lance admits, sighing and pulling his broken helmet off. He scrubs his hands through his hair. “My birthday was only a few quintents ago and Allura hosted a huge party. It was actually really annoying but,” he recalls, a giddy smile tugging at his lips at the memory, “Shiro, he—”
Standing up, the wolf moves closer and presses his nose to Lance’s cheek, just as Shiro had kissed his cheek that night. Lance’s eyes widen and his hand automatically goes to his cheek just as it had that night. He gapes at the wolf, at Shiro, because it’s looking at him exactly the same way Shiro had that night, smoky eyes regarding him with affection.
“Oh quiznak…” Lance breathes. “Shiro.”
His tail swishes happily and he bounces on his feet, bumping his head into Lance’s chest and nearly knocking him over. Lance feels so unbelievably relieved. Even if Shiro isn’t himself, at least Lance knows he’s safe. Besides, they have a fair few genius’ on the team that are sure to be able to fix this.
“Okay, okay,” Lance laughs, shoving Shiro off him because he apparently doesn’t know how to restrain himself as a wolf. “I’m sorry. I just had to be sure. Alright, we should get you outta here and try to figure out what happened.”
Shiro nudges his – the black paladin – helmet at him and Lance sets it on his head. It fits surprisingly well. He’s not sure why it’s surprising, they’re practically the same height, but Shiro’s always been Lance’s hero and has always seemed larger than life.
“Ah… Guys?”
“Lance…?” Pidge questions, understandably confused as he speaks through Shiro’s helmet and therefore on Shiro’s channel.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Bad news first always, dude,” Hunk confirms decisively.
“Shiro’s been turned into a wolf.”
Silence falls across the communication system, which is a rarity, to say the least.
“What the heck is the good news?” Hunk cries, incredulous.
“Um, he’s not dead…?” Lance offers, shrugging sheepishly.
“It’s definitely Shiro,” Allura confirms, arms crossed as she squints down at the large black wolf in Blue’s hanger. Shiro huffs at Lance and rolls his eyes, a wolf should not be able to do that. “He says, ‘how could you forget Allura talks to animals?’ Honestly, Lance,” she sighs, whether for herself or Shiro or both Lance isn’t sure.
It’s true, he’s an idiot for not having thought of it. Allura has become incredibly adept at communicating with various creatures across various plants, in all the weird and wonderful ways they communicate. A true Altean Queen of the people.
He groans. “Look, it’s not my fault, do you have any idea how hard I hit my head?”
Shiro whimpers at the memory and quickly moves to Lance’s side.
“He was incredibly worried, he was terrified he wouldn’t get there in time to stop the Galra Scientist from hurting you,” Allura translates, to which Shiro barks a complaint. “Oh, apologies, I wasn’t supposed to say that…”
Lance raises an eyebrow down at Shiro. “You don’t want me to know that you were worried for me?” he asks, confused. Shiro shows no sign of response, only leans against Lance’s leg. “Okay… Well, I’m gonna go get concussion tested and whatnot. Can you handle the big bad wolf, little girl?”
Allura frowns and sets her hands on her hips angrily. “I am not a little girl.”
“No, Allura, it’s from—”
Before Lance can even explain, Allura’s smiling and says, “Oh, a human fable. Sorry, Lance.”
Lance feels Shiro trembling and glances down to see him laughing, or, whatever the wolf equivalent is. Which, with the gaping powerful jaws, mostly just looks like he’s about to rip out someone’s jugular. The complete opposite of Shiro’s adorable chuckle, always hidden behind a hand, trying to repress the soft, mirthful sounds Lance has made it his lifes work to draw out of him.
“Right, well, get him to Coran and work out what the quiznak happened,” Lance says as he leaves.
“Is he scary?” Hunk questions at dinner.
Mission: successful. Galra barracks shut down, Galra arrested and prisoners rescued thanks to Keith and Hunk. Signal to other facilities discreetly tracked for their next mission thanks to Pidge. Galra Scientist captured – finally – thanks to Lance and wolf Shiro.
“No, Hunk, he’s Shiro,” Lance says, he can see that Hunk is nervous, a combination of worry for Shiro and being scared of his animal form. “He’d never hurt us.”
“Right, right. But, does he look scary?”
“Obviously, he’s a giant freaking black wolf!”
“We should question the Galra Scientist,” Keith insists, mushing his green goo around his bowl with his spork. He’s understandably unsettled by Shiro’s condition, not that any of them have seen him yet, but from hearing about it. Keith is the pessimistic type, probably morosely wondering if they’ll ever get Shiro back to normal.
“He’ll be fine, Keith,” Lance assures, nudging him with his elbow and smiling encouragingly as Keith looks up at him. “We have a wealth of information. We have Coran and Pidge and Matt and, worse comes to worse, I’ll be right behind you to get answers outta that—”
He’s interrupted by a fearful yelp as Hunk scurries away a few steps and a crash as Keith’s chair flies backwards. Pidge’s brown eyes are wide and apprehensive, knuckles white where she grips the table. Lance’s gaze is immediately drawn to Shiro’s dark figure in the doorway, frozen and uncertain.
“Dammit, guys,” Lance scolds, standing up and walking around to Shiro, stoking a hand comfortingly down his soft black coat. “Calm down, you’re making Shiro feel bad. Holy crow, Keith! Put your freaking Bayard away. Seriously…”
Their reactions are understandable, his hadn’t been much different – to be fair he didn’t know it was Shiro and they do. He knows Shiro isn’t offended by their reactions, just concerned. Lance sighs and kneels down beside Shiro, continuing to pet him, more to demonstrate safety to the others than anything. Though, he is incredibly soft and Lance feels a strong desire to bury his face in Shiro’s neck.
“C’mon guys, he’s a big softie,” Lance reassures them, gesturing them over. “He even wags his tail if you’re nice enough.”
Shiro grumbles a complaint, halting Pidge, Keith and Hunk’s approach, but Lance only laughs mirthfully and they continue. Pidge is the first there, holding her hand out for Shiro knowledgably, like a kid who was raised with a dog and proper animal safety. Shiro nudges her hand impatiently and Pidge laughs.
“Gross, Shiro, your nose is all wet,” she comments, grimacing and rubbing her hand on her shirt before petting him on the head. “Aww but you’re all soft!”
At which point she wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him. In comparison to Shiro’s sheer wolf-bulk, Pidge looks incredibly small, more so than usual. But Lance knows better than to say that out loud. Pidge trains with Keith a lot and Lance still has bruises from the last time he called her ‘tiny.’ Shiro’s tail starts wagging and his tongue lolls out of his mouth happily.
Keith approaches pretty easily after that, awkwardly petting Shiro’s neck and frowning like he’s trying to solve algebra. Hunk takes a little more time to warm up to Shiro, but Shiro’s always been patient and waits for Hunk to come to him. Not long after, Hunk’s feeding Shiro with his hands, heedless of the rows of razor sharp teeth. Shiro is very careful and polite. Obviously, because he’s a person and not a dog.
Coran and Allura return to report their findings, of which, there aren’t any. Yet.
“We’ve taken samples of Shiro’s blood and a sample of the blue substance we found on his armour,” Coran informs. “Tests are being run on each, but may take some time depending on the rarity of the substances used.”
“I’ll contact Matt,” Pidge says, petting Shiro’s head absentmindedly. “Send him some samples as well, in case we miss anything. See what he makes of it.”
“Do we know what happened?” Keith questions, arms folded across his chest and brow furrowed.
Allura sighs heavily. “Yes, Shiro gave me a detailed description of the incident, but it doesn’t shed much light on the situation. He had the Galra Scientist cornered, she shot him with that blue substance and he started to change. It was… painful.”
Lance winces. He hadn’t thought about that, about the physical change Shiro underwent and that it might have hurt. Glancing down at Shiro, Lance finds his eyes averted and head bowed, looking dismayed. Lance wants to hold him, tell him everything is going to be okay.
While none of this is positive it’s been a mere couple of hours. Lance has faith in his friends, in his team. He trusts in all their remarkable capabilities and knows when they work together they can do anything. Knows they can overcome this and get Shiro back to normal.
“So… Why a wolf?” Hunk asks curiously, rubbing his chin.
“Oh! That I actually have a theory on,” Coran chirps, brightening. “Thanks to your thorough archive of earth zoology, Hunk, I was able to familiarise myself with this strange creature.”
“Woah, woah, hold the phone,” Lance says, raising his arms in protest and indicating to Shiro. “You think this beautiful creature is ‘strange’ but a zabolian is completely normal.”
Zabolian’s are native to one of the bigger ally colonies. They’re ugly land creatures with tentacles and claws and they literally just roll along the ground all gross and blobby. Lance’s seen a lot of weird shit, but if he could erase anything from his mind it’d be that damn animal.
Coran gasps, offended. “You take that back! Zabolian’s are majestic creatures of significant importance to the history of—”
“Coran, the wolf,” Keith interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Right. Well, canis lupus, the wolf, is a rather spiritual animal for humans. It’s depicted as loyal and protective, a pack animal, valuing family and defending it fiercely. They are a creature of survival and great strength. Creatures of—”
“You think it’s because Shiro’s spirit animal is a wolf,” Pidge summarises, her voice gentle and serious, and Lance knows she agrees. Heck, with that description Lance definitely agrees. “Some sort of biological weapon that exposes what we truly are within? Or, possibly, how we see ourselves?” she speculates thoughtfully.
“Shiro doesn’t see himself—”
Allura’s translation is cut short by a low growl and she apologises quietly.
“Possibly…” Coran agrees, ignoring the exchange, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. “We won’t know until we get the results from the tests and discover what was in that smoke serum.”
“If that were true though, it’d be awesome!” Hunk says, grinning. Shiro huffs into the silence that follows and Hunk glances around, grimacing sheepishly. “I mean… Apart from the part where some strange alien technology we know nothing about has been used on Shiro and we don’t know if we’ll be able to turn him back.”
Lance groans. “Wow, Hunk, way to destroy team morale. It’ll all be fine, we’ll work it out and Shiro will be back to his usual gorgeous human self in no time. Not that I’m not diggin’ the badass wolf thing, buddy,” he adds, ruffling Shiro’s head. “Does he have somewhere to sleep? Does he need a dog bed?”
A deep annoyed protest rumbles from Shiro’s chest and the others look apprehensive verging on scared, but Lance laughs and bumps his side playfully.
“I’ve made sure all the door sensors recognise Shiro’s presence and have specifically programed his bedroom doors to automatically lock and unlock for him,” Allura says. “Shiro has access to his quarters and shall be able to sleep there.”
“Alright, sounds like everything is under control and now we play the waiting game,” Lance says, clapping his hands together decisively. Lethargy seeps deep into Lance’s bones and he hears the call of his soft, warm bed. He pets Shiro’s head before he turns to leave. “Good work team! I’m gonna go get some rest. We all should.”
“You’re not the leader,” Keith grumbles half-heartedly, following after him. “Since when do you dismiss us and tell us what to do?”
“Since you got terrible people skills… Oh no, wait, you’ve always had terrible people skills,” Lance chuckles and bumps their shoulders together as they walk, Keith shoving him back playfully.
Shiro wanders the halls of the Castle of Lions restlessly, overwhelmed by the new and extensive range of his senses. Colours are faded and changed, some brighter than others, some dulling completely to grey. Scents are everywhere, on every surface, and he’s able to smell things he never considered even had a scent. Noises surround him, the Castle of Lion’s engines and valves and mechanisms – not even a low hum to his human ears – humming and grinding and powering.
Gradually he’s growing accustomed to it, learning to focus on specific things and ignore the rest.
The scents are the most difficult. Each scent is unbelievably complex, with hundreds of components human languages don’t have words to explain, yet he’s quickly learning to discern minute differences. Shiro follows scents around the Castle of Lions like a training exercise.
At present he’s following Pidge’s scent, or, more specifically, her most recent scent, as her scent is understandably everywhere. It had been overwhelming when he’d first arrived on the Castle of Lions, threads of scent of each of his teammates twisting and turning and coiling around each other like a mess of tree roots. But now he’s able to focus on a single thread, Pidge’s unique metal and pine.
Unsurprisingly, Shiro’s lead to Green’s hanger where Pidge has set up her tech lab. The door slides open and Shiro enters carefully, not wanting to startle her as he had earlier.
Pidge’s on the plush red sofa in the corner, eyes focussed on the holographic interface hovering in front of her and completely unfazed by the two men sleeping tangled around her. She’s tucked into Hunk’s side, his arm draped over her shoulder, while Keith’s draped over her lap, legs sprawled along the sofa.
Shiro draws to a halt and feels his heart swell with fondness.
The years they’ve spent together, fighting and surviving, protecting each other, relying on each other in combat and for emotional support, has brought all of them so close. Even when Lance and Keith grumble at each other, even when Pidge and Hunk squabble about tech, even when Coran and Allura argue over the capabilities of the Castle of Lions. Shiro has no doubt that each and every member of the Voltron crew love and cherish each other, would do anything for each other.
They’re family.
Seeing Pidge, Keith and Hunk curled up on the sofa together forms a deep, instinctive need to cuddle with them. A mere notion when he’s human now feels essential, the pack aspect of his wolf-self longing for the familial comfort in his melancholy mindset. But something stops him, something stronger, if possible.
Shiro inhales, senses pleasantly overwhelmed with warm laughter and bright smiles and brilliant blue eyes. The thread of Lance’s scent wraps around him, shining clearer and more powerfully than any other scent around him. It tugs at his heart and draws him helplessly towards Lance.
He’s outside of Lance’s door promptly and it slides open. Which is strange, it should be locked.
Shiro pads inside slowly, dizzy with the potency of Lance’s spicy, fresh scent in his bedroom. Lance is heavily asleep in his bed, sleeping surprisingly neatly on his back and breathing softly. Shiro rests his head on the side of the bed, watching the steady rise and fall of Lance’s chest and considering.
For months and months Shiro has been struggling with his feelings for Lance, ignoring them and suppressing them. Gritting his teeth as Lance flirts with person after person; curling his hand into a fist to stop himself reaching out to touch him; swallowing down the affectionate comments and compliments; exerting himself with training when all he can think about is Lance’s lips or thighs or eyes. Then, on Lance’s birthday, Shiro simply couldn’t resist any more. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Lance, from wanting Lance, from being in love with Lance; he’s too far gone.
Shiro was on the verge of telling Lance how he felt when Pidge caught the trail of the elusive Galra Scientist and decided to postpone for when they were less focused on an important mission. And now this has happened…
Shiro curls his claws against the floor and heaves a deep sigh. He doesn’t know if they’ll be able to fix him. If he’ll ever be human again. If he’ll ever be able to tell Lance how he feels. A quiet, pained whimper escapes his throat as sadness washes through him and makes him tremble.
With distressing frustration prickling over his skin and creeping through his mind, Shiro jumps onto Lance’s bed. Getting a feel for where Lance’s limbs are, Shiro settles his large body on the comfortable bed and curls into Lance’s side. The warmth and tranquillity of Lance’s presence soothes through him, releasing tension he didn’t know he’d been holding and easing the anxious maelstrom in his mind.
Shiro buries his muzzle against Lance’s arm and breathes. The fatigue of his eventful day engulfs him swiftly, luring him into a peaceful sleep.