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At first, the differences seemed negligible.
Mere cultural bumps in the road, little things that communication could overcome. They changed nothing between them, were perhaps even comical, at times. It was refreshing to learn about a culture so profoundly different to anything he'd ever experienced before, and it was satisfying to explain more about his own, the intricacies and difficulties of having both the West and the East inside oneself. Allura could understand that, given how many hybrids the Altean people had sired over the millennia on so many different planets.
They became closer. They bonded through shared pain and the comfort they gave each other. Their feelings deepened, until Shiro looked at her and saw the source of everything good in the universe. She was the axis around which he spun.
But there were... things, about Allura. Small details, barely worth dwelling on. As time went on, instead of becoming more familiar, she was becoming more... alien.
He told himself he was imagining things, laughing at himself. He told himself it made sense for her to feel alien, since she, well, was an alien. But every motion that wasn't quite familiar, every time her voice did something a human voice never could... Every peculiar tilt of her head and uneven blink, every time she used her herculean strength or bent her body unnaturally... it unnerved him, and he didn't know why.
There was something wrong about her, something that had his primal instincts screaming to leave, but he didn't want to. Even with the uncanny things that terrified him, she was still Allura, still strong and wise and beautiful.
She was perceptive, and she noticed. She drew back, her smiles becoming weaker, her gaze faltering. It hurt, to feel the distance between them. Despite her peculiarities, he'd grown used to her warmth as he slept, the weight of her beside him, her kisses and soft voice. He missed her.
“Allura... is something wrong?” he asked one day, managing to corner her. She looked at him, hesitant.
“Shiro, I... I think it's time I showed you something.”
He'd seen Allura's room before. They sat on her bed, bodies slightly turned towards each other. Her hands twisted in her lap, and he longed to take them, kiss them comfortingly, sooth her nerves with his touch. He kept his hands to himself, and waited.
“I... perhaps we have taken this too far,” she murmured. She refused to look at him.
Shiro felt sick. “What? Why?”
“It's different for humans, I know it is... you're unused to beings so foreign to yourselves, I just... think we might be incompatible.” She looked up now, and the pain in her eyes broke him all over again.
“Allura, what are you talking about?”
She pulled back, took a deep breath, and opened her mouth.
It was, suddenly, no longer human-like. It stretched eerily across her face, revealing sharp teeth, like shark's teeth. Her throat glowed the bright blue that the Altean race seemed so fond of, and so did her markings and eyes. Her tongue was long, pointed, licked along her teeth almost subconsciously. She was predatory, ancient, and Shiro was suddenly hyper-aware of just how human and fragile he actually was.
He fought to stay where he was, to sit still and not rear back in shock, despite every part of him gibbering in fear. Allura closed her mouth, looked away again, rubbing her arm sheepishly. The dichotomy was disconcerting: something demonic and terrifying coupled with not just any young woman, but the woman he loved.
He swallowed. “Why didn't you show me sooner?” he asked. His heart was still pounding, and he didn't like what the sight of her teeth had done to him: they brought memories up from the dark abyss of his mind, things his brain had been desperate to forget, crowds, and cheering, and white, sharp teeth tinged with red, iron-based blood...
She glanced at him, eyes still glowing, sharp teeth snagging her lip nervously. “I... knew you be afraid.” She reached out, as if to cup his cheek, and snatched her hand back when he saw his eyes dart to her movement. “I took a form you would be more comfortable with since I didn't want to frighten you, or disgust you.”
“You could never disgust me...” he muttered. He couldn't lie about the fear, though.
“You still fear me, though,” she said, and her voice was resigned. “I understand. I must remind you of things you don't want to remember.”
She'd been there, held him through the nightmares, in his sleep and when awake, soothing him through it. And, as usual, she was eerily perceptive, tuned to his thoughts almost telepathically. She got to her feet, straightening her skirt.
“I... will take my leave,” she said.
Shiro took her hand. She stared at his fingers, gently clutching hers.
“This is your room, Allura,” he said, trying for something to lighten the mood. Her lips barely twitched. He sighed. “I... I can't pretend I'm not afraid, but it's not of you. I could never be afraid of you, Allura, I lo... I care about you too much.” He raised his head, met her eyes. Their glow was subdued now, less fierce. He realised he was holding her hand with his Galra replacement, and blinked. “You're not afraid of this, are you?”
Allura looked taken aback. “Why would I fear a part of you, Shiro? All of you is dear to me, even the parts you hate yourself.”
“Well then... I don't fear you. My head screws with me, but...” He reached up, tentative, with his left hand. He traced the longer seams of her mouth, followed them with the pad of his thumb, and he didn't miss the way her breath hitched and her eyelids fluttered. “Show me again?”
She did. She showed him the arcane glow of her throat and the pearly sharpness of her teeth, the stark contrast between their whiteness and the earthen brown of her lips.
“You're like a star,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Incandescent on the inside.”
She giggled despite herself, and he allowed himself to smile. Her joy was still the same on her face, her cheeks still soft, her eyes still unfathomable no matter how they glowed. She still had the same moonlight hair, the same pretty voice, the same pointed ears.
She was still his Allura, teeth and all.
Silently telling his broken mind to fuck off, he cupped her cheeks and gently pulled her forward, pressing their lips together. She sighed, melting into the kiss, pressing against him, the curve of her body familiar.
“You're beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. “So beautiful.”
She buried her face in his neck, humming happily, and he lay them out on the bed, content to hold her in his arms. His Allura was his Allura, and nothing would change that.