Shiro wakes up with a cold. There’s nothing unusual about that. He’ll get through it, just like he has ever other case of the sniffles he’s had while in space. There’s plenty else to worry about, like how work with the coalition is ramping up, and the changes Ryou is going through. He doesn’t have time to stop for such minor illnesses.
Except it keeps getting worse
Part of the Don’t Let’s Start verse
Except Shiro felt worse. Far worse.
Before, his headache had been an irritation. Now, it was a full-on distraction, to the point he’d had to mute his comm to hide his groans. More than once, Shiro had nearly missed his target because it had been so hard to focus his eyes.
Black rumbled in the back of his head, openly disapproving. There was no outright objection, but each time Shiro winced from noise or his reaction was a touch slower than normal, he felt Black press closer.
What else was Shiro supposed to do, though? This was, at best, a cold. He’d powered through far worse before.
Despite his justifications, guilt bubbled up. Shiro didn’t have to be compromising the mission this way. He shouldn’t be, not when they had a system of switching lions in place. The point of that was to cover when someone was sick or needed elsewhere. Right now, Keith could probably fly Black better.
The very idea made Shiro’s stomach twist. He’d spent so long sidelined by his own actions, but now he was reluctant to step aside at all. He felt shaky and weak, the chill suffusing into his bones. Admitting it was a problem was the same as admitting he was too weak to deal with the sniffles.
He’d fought through far worse.
dededos
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jbbartram-illu
turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
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ellievsbear
