Work Text:
Iridescent, adjective
1. showing luminous colors that seem to change when seen from different angles.
Post-victory highs are often accompanied by post-victory comedowns; after a year surviving in the arena, Shiro knows this better than most. And while his post-victory comedown often came in the form of a swift and deep sleep, it tended to look a little different for the rest of Team Voltron. With a long and well-fought win came all sorts of shenanigans.
So, he’s not all that surprised to find Pidge missing from the labs and her room empty. Pushing aside that small but whiny voice in his head that insists he track her down as soon as possible, (just to check on her, of course, and compliment her on quick reaction with the cloaking mechanism in the lion earlier) Shiro’s about to turn back towards his room as pass out for a few hours when Keith comes down the hall. Keith’s steps are quick and tight, like he’s simultaneously trying to maintain restraint while moving as fast as possible. Head bent, he’s muttering under his breath and doesn’t seem to realize he’s on a collision course with Shiro.
Shiro steps to the other side of the hall before catching Keith’s attention. “Keith, have you seen Pidge around?”
Keith looks up, then looks over his shoulder. He slows down a bit and glances over his shoulder again.
“Yeah, just a tick ago. She’s in the lounge with Lance and Allura, but I’d advise you to steer clear. I went to go relax and read some, but Allura and Lance are apparently in one of their makeover moods, and they’ve already got Pidge trapped.” Keith shivers. “They tried to get me, too, but I managed to dodge them.”
Before Shiro can respond, Keith picks back up his pace. “Just be careful if you get any closer to the lounge! I think they’ve got Hunk working for them.”
“Thanks,” Shiro says, unable to keep a sigh from mixing with his chuckle.
He makes it all the way to the lounge door without being ambushed by Hunk or anyone else, though for a split second, he swears he spots one of the mice trailing him. Shrieks and laughter resonate from behind the closed door.
Pidge’s voice carries out into the hall. “Stooooop iiiiittt!”
“Not until you admit it,” he hears Allura say in a sing-song.
“Over my dead and very sparkly body!”
“Come on Pidge…” Lance needles.
Shiro’s half-tempted to risk his physical well-being in order to catch a sight of whatever it is they’re up to. The last time Pidge had been roped into a post-battle makeover, well… Shiro had thought about those results more often than proper ever since. But he knows Keith’s warnings are earnest, just as he knows how Lance and Allura have been itching to get their hands on his hair.
He turns away. Pidge’s voice trails behind, a soft, “Fine. You guys are totally right, okay? Now just lay off...”
…
“Oh, come on! We just kicked these guys’ asses!”
Pidge looks livid as she bends over her control station. She purses her lips and bangs away at the keyboard while Shiro watches from the main battleship console next to Allura. Keith and Lance run the attack drones from their seats while Hunk frantically works with Coran to get the hangar doors open from down in the ship’s belly.
Everything about her is sharp in three-quarters profile, from the rise of her cheeks to the furrow of her brow. She’s taut, even in motion, a bow waiting to release a fatal strike. Shiro’s stomach does a funny wobble that has nothing to do with the rocking of the Castle as Allura dodges an incoming strike.
Pidge looks up suddenly, and their eyes meet. Mid-battle is a bad time to get caught staring, but even now he can’t look away. The glasses have come off, so there’s nothing to buffer the intensity of her honey gold gaze.
“Shiro, I need you to come look at this attack pattern,” she says. “There’s something different about it, but I can’t tell what’s off.”
Right. They were in the middle of something other than him ogling her at inappropriate times. He squares his shoulders and hopes the serious expression on his face will counteract the blush.
He comes around her other side to peer down at the screen she has pulled up. Heads bent together, they go back and forth until it clicks. Shiro identifies the issue: a well-cloaked fourth ship, firing at the same time as the others from different locations to mask its presence. It takes Pidge mere ticks after that to disable the other ship’s camouflage system, and a few doboshes for Lance and Keith to chase the other ships off.
Hunk’s voice comes from the comms a tick later. “Got the doors open! Better late than never, right?”
Chuckling, Shiro straightens and looks to Pidge, only to find her staring straight back at him. All of that battle hardness drains away from her features as she shoots him a Pidge-special: half-cocked grin, quirk of an eyebrow.
“Good work,” she says.
“You too.”
It’s then he notices the shimmer to her cheeks and the sparkle at the corners of her eyes. From where he’s standing, looking down at her, she glows with near opalescence - silver, firey green, rich violet. It flatters the subtle softness of her features. As if she needed any more help looking striking.
“What is it?” she asks, and he knows he’s been staring for too long this time.
“Your face,” he says, then internally cringes at how jarring that must sound. “I mean, you look-” Beautiful? his mind suggests. Radiant?
Pidge’s expression falls flat. “Quiznak, am I still glittery?”
She scrubs at one cheek, then curses again and pulls away her hand. The black of her glove is now covered in a bright, colorful sheen. Pidge groans.
“The makeover. Allura used some kind of alien space glitter on me and no matter how much I tried last night, I couldn’t get it all off. Knowing those two, it’ll probably last all week.”
“You look nice,” Shiro finally manages.
There’s a speck of flashing color just below her eye. Before Shiro can stop himself, he reaches over, cradles her cheek, and slowly sweeps the piece of glitter away with his thumb. A new hue joins the ever-shifting shades of her face, a deep and lovely red.
“Really nice.”