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The first time she hugged him, he pushed her away.
It hadn’t been intentional, and he was easily able to see that she was aware of that. It hadn’t been a particularly hard push, either, and she was quick to assure him that she was perfectly fine, that she understood and had acted on impulse, taking him by surprise. But it didn’t stop him from feeling terrible about it. He was simply so unused to such forms of affection, or in truth any form of affection in general, that it tended to set off his internal alarms when someone made to do so.
With Allura it took less time to soften the barriers than it ever had before. The closer they grew emotionally, the more their physical proximity followed, and he found himself comfortable sharing soft gazes and light touches far more quickly than he could have imagined.
It was still an ongoing process, however.
Lying in her bed, the quilts piled up around them in a sort of cocoon, he felt her warmth against his back and was happy for it. It was an incredibly intimate position for a Galra, and she had never once exploited it, nor his innate sense of foreboding when she drew close. He did hope that might lessen with time, but for the moment he was grateful that she did not seem to be offended or exasperated enough to stop.
Her arms winding around his middle made him tense, as they always did at first, but he turned over regardless, needing to see the warmth and understanding in her eyes. It was there as it always was, a constant in an ever more fragmented universe. Her hand on his face was gentle, soothing over his skin, the area where his marks would have been had they been visible so far from Oriande, and he shut his eyes briefly in contentment.
Her hand moving to his hair to stroke through it affectionately made him jerk away initially, but at her murmurs of comfort he rolled a bit closer to her, letting her touch him wherever she chose. It was close, and soft, and safe, and he could not stop his own arms from encircling her, burying his face in her neck and trying to allow himself to enjoy the feeling of being loved, truly loved and accepted, for the first time in his very long life.
He wanted to tell her how much it meant. How deeply he adored the way she was so patient and gentle with him, with the broken pieces of his soul that he was finally starting to believe might be able to be mended back together. With her, anything seemed possible, and when he opened his eyes again to look into hers he saw nothing but his adoration returned.
He had no idea what he might have done to deserve such a thing, but for the first time he did not wish to push it away completely out of the belief that it was undeserved. Allura had been insisting since he’d first broached the topic that it was an effect of the life he’d lived and the treatment that he’d received, and that all the arguments his brain conjured up for it were no more than lies. It was difficult to believe, but when he looked at her, saw the brilliance of a thousand supernovae in those eyes that gazed at him so softly and yet simultaneously so very fiercely, he could almost believe it.
This time, he did not shake. Did not tense or jerk away when she snuggled into his chest, her hand still lightly threading through his hair. Instead, he listened to the pattern of her breathing, her soft reassurances, and felt his eyes close without fear for one of the first times he could remember.