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Shiro couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but there was something familiar about the food goo.
It was the Altean equivalent of soylent, loaded with all the nutrients an Altean - or, luckily, human - might need in the most inoffensive form possible. It was also the blandest substance Shiro remembered encountering. It tasted … well, tasteless. The texture was gelatinous; it fell apart if chewed, failing to offer the slightest resistance, but seemed to get stuck in his throat if he swallowed without chewing first.
The first time they sat down to a meal of goo, Shiro felt a spark of recollection as he stuck a spoonful of it in his mouth. He gave a slow blink. Had he tasted this before? Maybe if he chased that tension in his spine ...
“Eesh,” Lance exclaimed; Shiro looked up. “Coran, I know you’ve been swearing by this stuff since we got here, but are you sure you don’t have, I dunno. Garlic? Pepper? Something to make this less …”
“Less like eating electrophoresis gel?” Pidge finished for him, squinting dubiously at her own plate.
“Not what I was gonna say, but yeah, let’s go with that.”
The shadow of a memory was gone; Shiro stared hard at his plate, trying to force it to return while the others talked around him, but all he actually felt was a craving for the Galaxy Garrison mac & cheese. That was understandable; there had been no time to eat more than some energy bars during his short return to Earth, and it was his favorite meal.
He finished his plate without the feeling returning, but the filmy taste of nothingness stuck with him, distant and familiar.
*
The discovery that the Alteans and the Galra had once been allies eventually led to Shiro connecting the dots.
Hunk’s culinary skills were a relief to all the humans on the ship, but he couldn’t cook without ingredients, and more often than not they were out. Forcing himself to scrape the last of food goo from his plate, that feeling of familiarity struck Shiro, and he remembered--
--kneeling on the metal floor and scraping up the last of the greenish food-gel-whatever from his bowl. Shiro sucked the spoon clean, and considered licking the bowl clean too; it didn’t taste like anything, and the texture was gross, but he had learned to not take any nutrition for granted.
He reached for the bowl--
Shiro blinked. He was still holding his spoon, full of green goop. He put the spoon down and took a deep, calming breath; that memory had been little more than a second or two long, and not very traumatic. Nothing to get worked up over.
Keith, of course, noticed anyway. “You okay, Shiro?” he asked.
“Yeah, fine,” Shiro said, but his ears went warm as everyone’s eyes turned to him. “Just missing macaroni and cheese.” He forced a chuckle, picked up his spoon again, and ate the last bite, determined to look as normal as possible. Sorry, Keith. I’ll explain later, he mentally promised Keith’s dubious look.
The goo tasted just like he remembered it did.
*
“Coran,” Shiro asked the next time he had the royal advisor alone, “Is food goo an Altean invention?”
Coran looked delighted to talk about it. “Oh, yes! Well, in its present form, perhaps. The idea of a nutrient-rich universal food is hardly unique to the Alteans, but we perfected it, or at least did our best to. It let us bring safe sources of food to dozens of planets in crisis. Just change up the vitamin mix and boom! Instant safe meals that even a sick person can swallow down. And it’s wonderful for space travel when you won’t have access to safe foods for a while. And it has a nearly infinite shelf life!”
Shiro smiled at his enthusiasm. “A way to end universal hunger, huh?”
“We hoped so,” Coran said, his expression softening. “Suppose we’ll never know, now.”
Shiro hesitated before asking his next question. “... How’d the Galra feel about it?”
“They adapted it to their nutritional needs and dispensed it on their ships, or at least they did 10,000 years ago.” Coran lifted his gaze and gave Shiro such a knowing expression that Shiro struggled to not look away. “Still using it, are they?”
Shiro could only nod in reply. Coran sighed so hard it ruffled his mustache. “I’m sorry.”
Shiro managed a small, thankful smile and changed the subject.
*
“I thought we should have a celebration dinner,” Hunk announced as Shiro walked into the dining hall, holding a covered pan in mitted hands. “For how Shiro got Zarkon to back off, and made friends with Black Lion again and stuff. You know?”
Shiro smiled in spite of himself. Since his confrontation with Zarkon on the astral plane, Team Voltron had already ‘celebrated’ the reprieve from Zarkon’s attacks by collapsing in bed, sleeping off the long days and short nights of the last few weeks. They followed a restful night with a supply run which included restocking the ship’s larder, which Hunk had promptly made use of.
Even Princess Allura looked relieved to not sit down to another meal of food goo. “Thank you, Hunk. I think a celebratory meal is certainly in order. Did you make some Earth food for us?”
Hunk’s gaze flickered to Shiro for a moment. “Yeah! It’s kind of - well, let me show you.” He put down the pan in the middle of the table and pulled off the lid.
The smell of Hunk’s cooking hit Shiro’s nose at the same time as he registered what he was looking at. “M-Mac and cheese?”
“You mentioned missing it the other day,” Hunk said, “and I figured it’s been the longest for you since you’ve had Earth food. And mac and cheese is like, classic Earth food. Nobody hates mac and cheese. Except lactose intolerant people, maybe?”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” Shiro admitted, and smiled when Hunk looked dismayed. “But this is my favorite food. Thanks, Hunk. This means a lot.” More than you know.
Hunk beamed at him. “Don’t thank me ‘til you taste it.”
Of course, it tasted perfect.
Just like home.