itâs more or less pouring rain outside in the middle of the afternoon. Person A, who has just come down with a cold, is sitting in bed with their duvet around their shoulders and a warm cup of tea in their hands. Even though itâs cold outside, theyâre warm, but they canât help but feel lonely.
Lucky for them, thereâs a knock on the door before Person B enters and steps in, soaking wet. They make their way into Aâs room despite the fact that puddles are forming wherever they walk. A isnât expecting such a treat and is even more surprised by the take away bag they have in their hands. âHey, darling,â B says with a smile, still dripping wet and voice thick with congestion. âI brought you your favorite s-soup..Heh⊠Hh'ItGSsh! Snff! Ugh. And I think Iâve caught your cold.â
Smiling softly, A pats the spot next to them tells B to get changed and then climb into bed for some much needed cuddling. A decides to apologize for getting B sick whenever theyâre done changing into Aâs extra clothes, and happily thinks about how theyre in for a nice rainy day of conjoined sick cuddling
I meant to post this on april foolâs day because my writing is a joke :) But Iâm late, so hereâs a joke posted on the wrong day.
Summary: Keith, who just happens to be coming down with a cold, is forced to wait out a thunderstorm with Lance.
âYouâre still coming to pick me up, right?â
Lanceâs voice is questioning, insecure, as if he doesnât already know the answer. Keith sighs into the phone, before sniffling once, absently rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. âI thought we already went over this.â
âI know, but I called you and you werenât picking upââ
âI was in class,â Keith retorts, pressing the phone to his ear with one hand as he slings his backpack over his shoulders with the other. He twists away briefly to cough into his shoulder. âThe lecturer ended a little later than usual, thatâs all.â
He can hear Lanceâs hum of assent on the other end. âSo, you are coming, then?â
âYeah. Yeah, I am.â Keith pauses outside of the university building, scanning the parking lot for his motorbike, before he spots it parked in the far left corner. âHave you been waiting for a long time?â
âThe meeting ended ten minutes ago,â Lance responds, âso, not really.â
âThatâs good,â Keith unfastens his helmet from where itâs been clipped around the handlebars, then fits it over his head, brushing loose strands of hair from his eyes. â....Iâm heading off. Iâm going to have to hang up now, okay?â
âOkay,â Lance pauses. âIâll see you in twenty minutes?â
âFifteen.â Keith fishes a keychain out of his pocket, pausing to find the right key before inserting it into the ignition. âSee you there.â
The engine starts up, a low rumble of sound and motion, and Keith presses the end call button before sliding the phone back into his pocket. He sniffles, before straightening slightly, navigating the bike carefully out of the parking lot.
Halfway to Lanceâs office, it starts to rain.
Keith isnât the most observant personâhe hadnât checked the sky for storm clouds this morning, hadnât thought to bring anything to shield him from the weather. Normally, it wouldnât have made a difference. Itâs not like he can drive and hold an umbrella at the same time.
Heâs not surprised when he ends up drenched. The rain soaks through his red jacket, making the fabric heavier than usual, and he canât stop himself from shivering. Itâs not exactly incapacitating â just inconvenient.
Admittedly, a raincoat would probably have been nice right now, but at this point, thatâs just wishful thinking. Itâs not like he can go back for one right now. Keith slows down his bike down at an intersection, idly watching the slanting threads of rain as they fall around him. Heâs so, so cold.
His breath hitches, and his shoulders dip with a sneeze. His hands itch to wipe his nose, but heâs wearing his fingerless gloves right now, and he doesnât want to get them dirty.
Sniffling, he sets the bike back into motion as soon as the traffic light flickers to green. Maybe he is coming down with something. He knows it isnât possible to catch a cold from the rain, but if heâs completely honest with himself, heâs been feeling off all day. If heâs already caught something, itâs probably in the process of getting a lot worse.
He just hopes thatâs not the case.
âKeith,â Lance hisses, his eyes wide with disapproval. âOh my god.â
Keith veers to a stop under the overhang of the building. He climbs off of his motorbike and puts the kickstand up, only wavering slightly on his feet. âWhat?â
âYouâre drenched.â Lance takes a few strides forward, closing the short distance between them, and stops before him. âDid you actually drive here in the rain?â
âYou know, I canât control the weather,â Keith deadpans, his fingers fumbling at the straps of his helmet. He curses under his breath. His fingers feel like theyâre half frozenâtheyâre far too numb to perform a task as intricate as this.
âHere, let me help you out with that.â Lance leans in, unclipping the buckle with ease.
â...Thanks.â Keith pulls his helmet off, before setting it down on the bike seat. âMy hands arenât really working right now.â
Lance takes the chance to reach out, grasping Keithâs hands in his own. âThatâs because theyâre freezing,â he says matter-of-factly, his fingers intertwining with Keithâs. âAt least your hairâs dry,â
Any other time, Keith would be pulling away, but Lanceâs hands are just so comfortably warm, so he doesnât. He sniffles, turning away to cough in the opposite direction. Lanceâs eyebrows furrow.
âYouâre not getting sick, are you?â
âNo,â Keith denies, perhaps a little too quickly. âNo, Iâmâ Iâm not. Iâm fine.â Except then, his body, ever loyal, decides that then is the perfect time to sneeze.
âBless you,â Lance says automatically, letting go of one of Keithâs hands so he can press the back of his hand to Keithâs forehead. â...You feel a little warm.â
âIâm not sick,â Keith lies through his teeth. His voice is starting to sound congested, but his nose is still running, and he wonders how itâs possible to experience both at the same time. âYou canât get sick from the rain.â
âI donât know the details,â Lance backtracks, âbut weâ we should get you home.â
Except, itâs still rainingâ the dark clouds overhead havenât shown signs of letting up at all. If anything, it seems like theyâre going to lead to a thunderstorm. âWell,â Keith mutters, glances out into the rain-flooded streets, âgood luck with that.â
âLetâs wait inside for now,â Lance suggests, unzipping his jacket and draping it securely around Keithâs shoulders. âWe can head back as soon as the rain clears up.â He starts off towards the building entrance, and Keith stifles a sneeze as quietly as he can before following.
Lanceâs office building, as it turns out, is a pretty comfortable place to be in. Lance sits Keith down at a table, which is already an improvement from having to stand outside. âWait here.â
Keith opens his mouth to point out that he doesnât know his way aroundâitâs not like he can actually go anywhereâbut then shuts up promptly when he realizes what Lance is doing. Heâs opening cabinet after cabinet, pausing to read the label on a box of tea bags before pushing it back inside and taking out another.
âWhat are you doing?â Keith asks, and when he doesnât get a response, he continues, âLance. Are you making tea?â
âYeah,â Lance answers distractedly, âfor you. I just canât find the rightââ
âYou know,â Keith interrupts him, stopping only to muffle a few coughs into his fist. âI donât care what kind.â
âKeith, buddy,â Lance says, very, very seriously, âyou may not care about the quality of your tea, but I do.â
Keith opens his mouth to argue about how counterproductive that is, but Lance beats him to the chase. âSee, I knew it was in here somewhere.â He sets the box of tea down and pulls out a packet from inside of it. âHold on, Iâm currently making the best tea youâll ever taste.â
âI wonât be able to taste it, anyways.â
âYou wonât have to. Your body will still thank me.â Lance sets a paper cup under the hot water dispenser and presses the button on the top.
Keith leans back in his seat, contemplating how nice it is to have someone take care of him when itâs the last thing on his own list. âYeah. Okay. Sure.â
Two minutes later, the cup is in Keithâs hands. He really canât taste the teaânot that he wouldâve paid attention to the flavor anyways, but the cup feels nice against his too-cold hands, and the steam helps to relieve his congestion. He can feel Lanceâs eyes on him as he takes another experimental sip.
âSo?â
âSo,â Keith echoes.
Lance watches him, one eyebrow raised in question. âHow is it?â
âItâs... fine.â Keith says, his mouth creasing into a frown. âItâs just tea.â
âJust fine?â Lance prods, a smirk pulling at his lips. He leans against the counter, his body facing towards Keith, and crosses his arms at his chest.
âItâs decent,â Keith deadpans, never one for elaborate synonyms. And it is. The tea warms him up, even though thereâs only so much it can do while the rest of his limbs freeze around him.
Lanceâs smile broadens. âThatâs good.â He stands up and starts towards the door, only stopping when heâs standing at the doorway. âIâm going to get some of the papers from my office. Iâll be back.â
Keith glances up. âI thought you were done with work?â
Lance shrugs noncommittally. âI am. I just... might as well get something done while Iâm stuck here, you know?â
He disappears from the room, and Keith exhales softly, swiping a hand under his nose. He should probably be working on his schoolwork right now, but he knows he wonât be very productive with a headache. Besides, the subjects he has assignments due for donât really interest him.
He sets his empty cup down on the table and shifts so he can rest his head on top of his arms. Heâs still mercilessly cold, but the stifling heat inside the office is starting to dull his senses. Heâs been too busy this week to pay attention to his healthâthe pressure to finish all the work from school has been enough to keep him awake. Now that thereâs nothing to distract him anymore, the singular fact that heâs been so persistently trying to ignore is becoming more and more evident.
Heâs exhausted.
He lets his eyes drift closed, tells himself it will only be temporary. He wonât fall asleep. Heâs just resting his eyes for a second.
(Heâs fast asleep by the time Lance gets back.)
Keith wakes up, not on his own accord, but by the feeling of Lance shaking his shoulder. The first thing that registers to him is that he canât breathe through his nose. Heâs been sleeping with his mouth slightly agape, and itâs not exactly a pleasant feeling. The second thing that he notices is that heâs feeling much worse than beforeâthe persistent throb of a headache has made its way into his skull, and his throat feels like itâs on fire.
He sneezes, once, and tries to sniffle, but it doesnât make any difference. He tries inhaling shakily through his mouth, but the intake of breath launches him into a coughing fit, and he curls in upon himself, waiting for it to subside.
âHey,â Lance says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. A cursory glance upwards reveals that his boyfriend is hovering over him, eyebrows drawn together in evident concern.
âHello,â Keith responds after a beat. He swallows, grimacing as the pain in his throat resurfaces. His clothes are still wet, but heâs thankfully a bit warmer than beforeâhis hands donât feel numb anymore, and his rough, uncontrollable shivering has been reduced to a slight tremor.
âThe rain stopped,â Lance informs him, âweâre going back. Can you walk?â
âYeah,â Keith affirms. âSure.â Walking is easy. He stands up briskly, but the action must have been a bit too quickâsuddenly, the world tilts on its axis and he stumbles forward gracelesslyâ
The ground is surprisingly soft when he hits it, until he realizes that heâs not on the ground at all. Lanceâs arms are around himâone is wrapped around his chest and the other is gripping his shoulder, preventing him from falling over. Itâs strangely comfortable, and he almost falls asleep right then and there.
âHey, stay with me here,â Lance murmurs, and Keith sniffles, his head dipping forward in a nod. He does his best to stand up again, and Lance moves so that his arm is around Keithâs shoulder, supporting his weight.
The walk outside is long and draining, so Keith keeps his glance focused on the ground, allowing Lance to steer him in the right direction. When they finally step outside, the sudden gust of cold air that hits leaves Keith shivering again, and he barely turns away as a particularly forceful sneeze rips through his frame.
Sniffling again, he reaches sluggishly for his motorcycle helmet. He moves to take his usual seat, but Lance stops him. âWoah, you are not driving right now,â Lance says. âSorry, but I value my life too much.â
âIâm not going to crash,â Keith argues, but the retort is too slow and too weak to make a proper comeback.
Huffing, Lance rummages through the storage compartment on the vehicle. âSure thing, Keith.â He slides his own helmet onâthe same model as Keithâs, but blueâand grabs hold of the handlebars. âHere, scoot back a little. Iâll drive.â
âIâm not sure that would be any safer,â Keith mutters under his breath, but he does what heâs told, anyways.
âIâm a great driver, and you know it.â Lance slips into the seat in front of him. Heâs no expert at steering Keithâs motorbikeâitâs usually Keith who drives, but theyâve gone on a couple of bike dates before, and Lance knows enough to get them home. âJust hold on, okay?â
Keith leans onto Lanceâs body, burying his too-hot forehead into Lanceâs shoulder, and wraps his arms around his boyfriendâs torso. Technically, he doesnât need to be this close to hold on. But it feels nice, and if Lance notices that Keithâs sitting too close to him, he doesnât mention it for the rest of the ride.
I want a fic where Keith is pining over Lance and on Keithâs birthday heâs really hoping that Lance will confess that he likes him, too. But Lance sleeps on the couch through his party, and even though Hunk is like âwe can wake him up,â Keith is like âno, he looks like shit; heâs probably exhausted, let him sleep.â So when the party is nearly over, Lance wakes up and heâs completely feverish and out of it, and he tries to give Keith his birthday present and confess that heâs got a crush on him, but heâs a goddamn wreck and Keith is real worried
Consider: A and B are in a heated argument. Tensions are high; thereâs lots of yelling and arm flailing. But suddenly, Aâs eyes roll back, and they collapse to the floor.
B is stunned, mind completely blank. But after a few moments, B drops to the floor beside A, shaking hands hovering over A as panic swells through their body. B hesitantly presses a palm against Aâs forehead and finds it burning. B had no idea that A wasnât feeling well, and the anger from before dissipates into downright concern. B takes A to bed, tending to A until A finally comes to.
A thinks B is going to be angry still from the argument before or from not telling B they were sick, but B looks so relieved to see A conscious.
B brushes aside any talk of their previous argument, stating that itâs not important now, and nurses A back to health.
ANOTHER KLANCE FIC. Take it. :VÂ
Prompt from here!
Summary: Keith gets stranded in an unknown city on a cold day with no way to get home. He calls Lance to come pick him up, not knowing that Lance is already sick and should be resting instead.
Last bus: 10:45PM
Next bus: 6:15AM
Keith stares at the sign. His shoulders sag, his breath leaving him in a cloud of white.
Heâs doomed. Heâs stuck in a city miles away from his own house, and heâs just missed the last bus of the night.
Shivering, he brushes the snow off of a bench and sets his bags down on top of it. His fingers feel like theyâre turning to ice, so he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to keep his body from shaking too badly.
This is all his fault. Heâd been the one who had been insistent on coming all the way here. Heâd taken a bus after lunch, travelling miles and miles from home just to reach this obscure cityâit was the only one that happened to have motorbike parts he needed, and heâd planned his trip so he could navigate using his phone and get back before it got dark.
As it turned out, heâd ended up getting miserably lost in the city, and his phone had died on him due to the cold weather. After spending hours wandering around, heâd finally found his way back to a train station on the other side of the town.
And the last bus left half an hour ago. Just his luck.
He doesnât know anything about this city, doesnât have anywhere to stay for the night. Itâs too far to walk back, and itâs too cold to sleep out here.
He glances up. The snow slants as it falls from the gaping sky, snowflakes turning gold in the sparse light of nearby streetlights. Shivering, he pulls his jacket closer around him, the spare change in his pocket rattling from the movement.
Change. Thereâs a payphone across the street.
Keith hates bothering people, especially when itâs this late at night. There are not that many people that he trusts enough to bother in the first place, and most of them are unavailable. Hunk is out of town, Shiro and Allura live too far away, Pidge doesnât have her own car yet. But maybe if he asks nicely enough, he can convince Lance to drive him back.
He picks up his bags, wincing as his fingertips brush against the frigid bench railings, and starts off to cross the street. This is a bad idea, heâs sure, but heâs tired and cold and he can think of nothing better.
He just really, really wants to be home.
Lance has been feeling off all day.
Heâd wakes up with a slight headache and a slight case of the sniffles, but he ignores it and goes about doing work like he always does. But apparently, this is the type of illness that hits really quickly â by noon, his head is pounding and the room is spinning.
Everything is too cold. He shivers, pulling the zipper up on his jacket. Who decided that this was an acceptable building temperature? It really isnât.
He makes it through the morningâat least, until he runs into his section commander in the kitchen. Heâs pouring himself a cup of coffee, but the exhaustion from the past few days is really getting to him: his hands are trembling and he can barely hold the cup still.
His commander takes one look at him and shakes her head. âGo home, Mcclain.â
But he really needs to get things done today. The work deadlines are coming up, and he canât afford to fall behind. âNo, Commander Smith,â he starts, before clearing his throat. âI assure you that can work through this. I promiseââ
Heâs cut off by a harsh fit of coughing, which lasts for longer than it should. When he finishes, he realizes heâs spilled some of the coffee in his cup, and Miss Smithâs disapproving frown has shifted to an outright scowl. âI wasnât offering, itâs an order. Go home.â
âBut deadlinesââ
âThis is not debatable. You look like youâre about to fall over, and Iâm almost certain youâre contagious.â
Lanceâs shoulders sag, and he nods, just once. He is feeling pretty bad, and he doesnât want to get his coworkers sick. âIâll clean up the spill and leave,â he concedes.
âGood.â The commander turns on her heels, starting out the door, before she comes to a halt again. âI donât want to see you here tomorrow, got it? Get some proper rest.â
And so now heâs at home, six hours before his shift ends. Heâs been trying to work at home, anyways, but the harsh lighting of his laptop screen is making his headache worse, and itâs almost impossible to concentrate when heâs feeling this shitty.
Sighing, he closes the device, plugging it into the charger, and makes his way over to the bed. Itâs not a long walk, but heâs exhausted and dizzy, and the world is tilting in ways that makes the trip more difficult than he should be. When he finally gets there, he sprawls himself over the sheets face-first, but immediately starts shivering and has to sit up again to crawl into the covers.
His whole body feels off. Maybe heâs worse off than heâd thought.
He stifles a sneeze into a cupped hand, and then turns over onto to his side, letting his eyes drift closed. Heâll just sleep this off. Hopefully heâll be better by the time he wakes up the next morning.
Unfortunately, he doesnât wake up the next morning, but rather late into the night, to the sound of his phone ringing on the bedstand. He picks it up, staring blearily at the blinding screen. Unknown caller ID. He frowns, almost opting not to pick it up. Whatever stranger is calling him at this hour really needs to learn how timezones work.
He presses answer anyways. All of a sudden, a warm, familiar voice is flooding into his ears: âLance?â
âKeith?â Heâs more than a little surprised to hear his boyfriend on the line. âWhatâs up?â he manages, his voice still groggy from sleep.
âThank god you picked up,â Keith rambles. He sounds frantic. âCan you come drive me home? I know itâs a lot to ask, but Iâm stuck here and I donât have enough change to call a taxi.â
âYou what?â Lance pushes himself upright, blinking back exhaustion. âI⊠I thought you were taking public transportation home?â
âI got lost. I missed the last bus.â
âKeith, itâs almost midnight. You want me to mess up my sleep schedule and drive for an hour just to come get you?â Lance teases, smirking into the phone. Heâs already out of bed, phone tucked in between his ear and his cheek while he searches the closet for his jacket.
âWhat? I didnât⊠didnât m-mean that...â Keithâs voice wavers on that note. He really sounds shaken up about this. â...but youâre right. Sorry for bothering you. Iâll, uh, f-find a way...â
âYouâre lucky Iâm the best boyfriend in the world,â Lance says. âTell me your location and Iâll be there.â
A pause. âThanks, Lance. Really,â Keith says, sounding better already. He relates the name of the station heâs at, and Lance listens, holding the phone at a distance away from him as he stifles sneezes and coughs as quietly as possible.
âIâm in the car. Be there in 45,â Lance says, âis it snowing where you are?â
âMake sure you keep warm, okay? If there are any open shops nearby, go wait there.â
âOkay.â
âDonât get lost again.â
âOkay.â
âI need to hang up now, alright? Iâll be there soon.â
â...Okay.â
Keith is asleep on a bench across from the station when Lance finds him. Heâs surrounded by a mountain of bags, wearing only a light jacket that definitely isnât meant for weather like this.
Lance stops his car at the curb, rolling down a window. âKeith?â
Keith stirs, his head tipping upwards at the sound of his name. A fresh layer of snow has settled on top of his jacket hood, but it slips off as he stands up, hastily brushing stray snowflakes from the folds of his clothing.
He moves all of his bags into the trunk, then slips into the passenger seat. Even in the warmth of the car, heâs still shivering, and Lance mentally curses himself for not bringing any extra clothing for him.
âDidnât I tell you to keep yourself warm?â he asks, an eyebrow raised as he starts the car again. âYou couldâve waited in a shop or something.â
âI didnât want to get lost again,â Keith explains, zipping up his jacket with trembling hands.
âOh my god,â Lance huffs. âyou couldâve just printed out a map before you left home.â
Keith frowns, fishing his dead phone out of his pocket. He stays motionless for awhile, staring down at the unlit screen with an expression that looks like betrayal.
âI was going to use my phone, but it died on me.â
âThatâs why you charge it before you leaveââ
âI did! It died from the cold, not from low battery.â
âThatâs unlikely.â Lance lifts one hand off the steering wheel to stifle a few coughs into his fist. âWas it really that cold outside?â
âWell... yeah.â Keith puts his phone away and leans back again, crossing his arms. âIt snowed all day.â
âAnd you couldnât have checked the weather?â
âThat wouldnât haveââ Keith stops abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. Lance is about to ask him if somethingâs up, but Keith beats him to the chase: âAre you cold?â
That catches Lance off guard. âWhat makes you think that?â He scoffs, because yeah, heâs cold, but Keith doesnât need to know that. âAre you changing the subject because you donât want to talk about how much of an idiot you areââ
âNo, itâs not that.â Keith cuts him off, sounding distracted. Lance takes advantage of a red light to steal a glance at him, only to realize that Keith is already scrutinizing him closely. âYouâre shivering.â
Shit. Uh. âIâm not,â Lance lies, trying his best to stop his body from trembling. He hadnât even realized until Keith pointed it out.
Keith raises an eyebrow. âYouâre not?â
âOkay, maybe I am slightly cold,â Lance concedes, absently wiping his nose on the back of his hand. âWhy? Arenât you?â
âNo.â Keith blinks, tugging at his scarf so that it unravels a bit, âitâs nice and warm in here. Itâs a bit too warm, actually.â
âYeah, well. Staying out in the snow for half a day probably messed up your sense of temperature.â
âI donât know. Maybe.â Keith turns his head to stare out of the passenger window. Lance pinches the bridge of his nose, stifling two sneezes into his hand while his boyfriend isnât looking.
The silence that follows is unexpected. Lance clears his throat quietly, ignoring the sharp pain that surfaces as a result. âDid you find the components you needed?â
Keith perks up at that. âYeah, I actually did.â Heâs usually a quiet person, but when heâs passionate about something, he can talk about it for hours. âI needed a particular set of brakes, right? It turned out that the shop I was at ran out of stock, so I had to go all the way to the northern end of the cityâŠâ
Lance just listens quietly, too tired to say a word. His head is pounding, and he canât quite keep up with everything that Keith is saying, but he likes hearing the sound of his boyfriendâs voice. Itâs nice.
He drives quietly for awhile, caught in the warm, comfortable haze of the words he hears but doesnât process. Then, suddenly, he realizes that the Keithâs voice has turned a couple degrees sharper:
ââLance? You still with me? Lance!â
His name turns from static to sound in his mind, and he blinks, snapping out of the trance. âSorry, I zoned out. Whatâs up?â His voice sounds awful. He hadnât realized how so much congestion had accumulated in such a short amount of time.
âI asked if you could pull over for a sec,â Keith reiterates. âI have something I need to get from the back trunk.â
âOh. Sure.â Lance maneuvers the vehicle carefully to the side of the street. âGo ahead.â
Keith slips out of the car and shuts the door behind him. Lance leans back in his chair, his posture sagging, and waits as a particularly harsh coughing fit runs its course. No wonder he was sent home. Heâs really feeling like shit right now. Driving isnât exactly the most strenuous activity, but the 45 minute trip here has somehow sapped all of the energy from his body, and his headache from this morning hasnât let up at all.
To his surprise, a few seconds later, his own car door is pulled open. âKeith, what are youââ he starts, but his sentence cuts off sharply when Keith sets a hand onto his forehead.
âYou have a fever,â Keith states, as bluntly as ever.
Lance shrugs noncommittally, drawing away from his touch. âI thought you were getting something?â
âI wanted to check your temperature, but I knew you wouldnât actually pull over if I phrased it that way.â
Keith is reaching out again, but this time, Lance doesnât have the energy to move away. His fingers are cold, but not icy, and they feel inconveniently nice on Lanceâs too-hot cheeks.
âYouâre burning up.
âOr,â Lance counters, âmaybe your hands are just too cold.â
Keith removes his hands, and Lance almost wants him to put them back again. âDid you go to work like this?â
âI got kicked out,â Lance admits sheepishly, looking down, âmy section commander sent me home.â
âI can see why.â
He scowls. âShut up.â
âWhy did you drive here anyways?â Keith demands, changing the subject. âYou should be resting.â
Lance rolls his eyes. âI went home early, Iâve been resting all dayââ
âThat isnât enough. Donât you always lecture me about how sleep debt is a thing? Youâve barely gotten any sleep all week.â Keith pauses, frowning, and Lance deflates a little. Itâs true. Heâs been so busy with work lately that he hasnât really been getting proper rest.
âIâm⊠sorry?â he offers, before twisting away to cough a few times into his hand.
Keith huffs a sigh, resigned but affectionate. âHere, letâs switch seats. Iâll drive.â He takes Lance gently by the forearm and leads him out of the car. As soon as Lance is outside, he canât stop his body from shivering anymoreâitâs utterly frigid. How the hell did Keith manage to spend half a day in this weather?
Thankfully, theyâre not outside for long. Keith lets Lance to get settled in the passenger seat, then slips into the other side of the vehicle. He sets the car into motion again, and Lance just stares blankly out of the windshield, wondering how this situation has managed to turn around so quickly.
Heâs starting to drift off again when Keithâs voice breaks the silence, steady and warm. âI wouldnât have called you to pick me up if I knew you were sick.â
âI still wouldâve come,â Lance says.
Keith shoots him a glance, skeptical. âWhat?â
âI still wouldâve come to get you,â he repeats, sniffling. His eyes are already halfway shut. Heâs so tired.
âWhy?â Does Keith really not get it yet?
âBecause itâs for you,â Lance says, even though that much should be obvious.
For awhile, Keith doesnât respond. But when Lance opens his again, heâs smiling.
so the paladins finally spend some time on a rain planet. of course Lance spends a lot of time out in the rain. Too much time, in fact. What they donât know is that this rain is different than Earth rain in a way that they discover later. When Lance comes down with the absolute most awful cold of his entire life.
I answered PURPLE HEART and RAINBOW WITH A STORM CLOUD AT THE END, but dig this: đ- COME UP WITH A SNEZARIO FAST (doesnt have to be good/detailed/anything ⊠just meme it if u want)Someone misreads their public transit schedule/runs out of gas/is otherwise stranded in some non-life-threatening way in an unfamiliar town. Slightly panicked, they remember their friend/acquaintance who lives not far from here, and call them up in the middle of the night, frantic and apologetic, asking what they should do. On the other end of the phone, whoever was just woken up is already pulling their clothes on grabbing their car keys before theyâve even hung up. They were trying to sleep off an impending cold, and itâs taking all their energy to drag themself out of bed, but itâs nothing serious and theyâd never leave their friend stranded there when they live so close, of course.The stranded party is thrilled and grateful and rambling about how they really owe the driver a HUGE FUCKING FAVOR when it becomes dreadfully apparent over the course of the ride how unwell the driver is. The stranded friend does their best to repay the favor by doing what they can to help their friend feel better.
naturally loud-voiced characters getting sick and, due to a fiercely sore throat, going through their day speaking notably quieter and more tentative than usual. a stranger wouldnât realize the difference but all the personâs friends are immediately just like â???â upon hearing them talk
How about that very loud character having to stop talking, which somehow leads to a friend thinking theyâre mad at them, which just leads to more discomfort as the sickie tries to explain whatâs going on?
First fic on here! Hopefully it wonât be my last :V
Summary: Lance falls ill while accompanying Keith on a business trip, but Keith is too busy to take notice.
Prompt from here:Â http://sickficprompts.tumblr.com/post/157422627471/most-likely-an-over-done-prompt-but-still
âDo you want the window seat or the middle one?â
âMiddle,â Keith answers without hesitation. âItâs closer to the aisle.â
âOkay.â Sniffling, Lance lifts his suitcase up and slides it into the storage compartments overhead, his arms shaking slightly from the effort. Then he slides into the seat next to the window, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.
Keith slips into the seat next to him. He has a meeting and an important speech to deliver in a different city, and the plane flight has already been delayed.
Biting his lip, he opens up his laptop and starts polishing the slides for his presentation. Itâs a good thing he doesnât get airsick. Excluding takeoff and landing, heâll have a full four hours to work on this.
Lance shifts beside him, and Keith glances over at him for a moment. It was Lanceâs idea to accompany him on this business trip, and despite himself, Keith is really grateful for his offer. He hates traveling alone.
âThanks for coming with me,â he says.
He watches his boyfriendâs lips press into a smile, small but sweet. âAnytime.â
The engine whirs, and the plane speeds forward, wheels accelerating against smooth concrete. Keith takes out the papers for his speech, which heâs typed up and printed out, and starts revising them for the fifth time. This is one of the biggest speeches heâs been assigned since joining the company. The last thing he wants is to have to deliver it unprepared.
A few minutes after takeoff, he feels a heavy weight drop onto his shoulder. He looks over, unsurprised, to see that Lance has fallen asleep, his forehead resting on the crook of Keithâs neck.
As endearing as it is, he canât quite indulge himself in his boyfriendâs affections right now. âLance,â he says sternly, âI need to work.â
The taller boy opens his eyes blearily, blinking a few times, before leaning in the opposite direction, propping his head up against the airplane window. âRight. Sorry,â he mutters, voice slightly hoarse, but Keith dismisses the observation. Heâs just woken up, after all.
âItâs okay.â He turns his attention back to the papers in front of him, waiting for the plane to stop ascending so he can go back to working on his powerpoint.
When Keith wants to get something done, heâs good at focusing all his attention on his own work and ignoring everything else. Thatâs why he doesnât realize that his boyfriend shouldnât be tired right now, after having gotten more than enough sleep the night before. Doesnât notice that Lanceâs breathing sounds the slightest bit congested. Doesnât notice that Lanceâs eyebrows are drawn together in the way that makes it evident that he has a headache.
The plane arrives two hours late, and by the time they get off of it, Keithâs meeting is just forty five minutes away. Heâs still somewhere in the middle of the airport, and it will take half an hour by car just to get to the meeting location. He really has the worst luck.
He walks as fast as he can through the airport terminals, dragging his suitcase behind him. In his haste, he doesnât realize that Lance is having trouble keeping up.
âKeith?â Lance asks tentatively, lifting an arm up to muffle a harsh cough into the crook of his arm. He straightens, quickening his footsteps to catch up with his boyfriend. âUh, can I... get some soup? My throat is kind of bothering me.â
He knows that the fact that Lance is asking for something means heâs already feeling pretty bad. But the restaurant Lance is referring to has a line that extends all the way to the outside, and they really donât have the time right now.
âIâm sorry, but I really have to get to this meeting,â Keith says, distractedly press a kiss to Lanceâs cheekbone. âI promise Iâll get you some after the meetingâs over, okay?â
âOkay,â Lance agrees, his sentence punctuated with a wet sniffle. Then theyâre on their way again, and in Keithâs haste, he doesnât realize that Lanceâs cheek felt just a little too warm under his lips.
The meeting goes well. Itâs terrifying, having to stay in a room with such high ranking members of the company, but Keith reminds himself that heâs earned this spot entirely on his own. He presents his own ideas and comments on those of others, and they manage to discuss everything they had planned. The three hours pass by faster than he expects.
Lance waits for him on the car. They only have one vehicle, so Keith had been forced to take Lance with him to the meeting. Despite Lanceâs assurances, he still feels fairly guilty about itâthree hours is a long time to wait in the car. Lance should be waiting in the comfort of their hotel, premade bed and complimentary snacks and all, not in a cramped car in a different city on a too-hot day.
He wonders if he shouldâve left his boyfriend with something to do. But when he gets back, Lance is fast asleep in the passenger seat with his head in his arms, and Keith feels his heart flutter in his chest. âSorry for making you wait,â he murmurs, reaching out to tuck a strand of Lanceâs hair behind his ear.
He gets into the driverâs seat, doing his best not to wake the brunet up, and starts off onto the road.
âLance?â
Lance opens his eyes, lifting his head out of his arms. He peers out the window. Theyâre not in front of the meeting building anymore. âWhere are we?â
âBack at the hotel,â Keith informs him, âmeetingâs over.â
Lance pushes open the car door, wandering over to the back trunk. His legs are slightly unsteady, but heâs just woken up, so Keith doesnât think anything of it. âHow did it go?â
âIt was okay.â Keith follows him there to help him unload the suitcases from the back trunk. âHave you not been getting enough sleep lately? You seem tired.â
Lance glances up, and Keith notices that his eyes are a duller shade of blue than usual. Then, just as quickly, he looks away. âIâm fine,â he affirms, âIâm glad your meeting went well.â
Lance is sprawled out over the hotel bed, leaning heavily against the headboards. Heâs wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, even though the room isnât all that cold, and the green jacket heâs wearing should technically be sufficient.
âAre you cold?â Keith asks, raising an eyebrow.
âNot r-really,â Lance stammers, pulling the covers closer around him and offering a small smile. âIâm fine, see?â
âOkay,â Keith says, drumming his fingers on the desk. âYou wanted soup, right? I can go get you some now.â He isnât that busy. Stressed, sure, but the next event he has planned is the speech for tomorrow, and heâs mostly done with the prep work for it.
Lance pales and looks away. âIâm not that hungry anymore,â he says.
âHow is that possible? You havenât eaten all day.â
âI think I just messed up my sleep schedule too much,â Lance says sheepishly.
That makes sense. âLet me know when you want food. Iâll take you.â Keith turns back towards his desk, staring over the scripts that heâd revised on the plane. He still needs to type up the changes.
The murmur of television static runs quietly in the background, and a few minutes later, Keith sneaks another glance at his boyfriend. Lance is staring in the direction of the screen, but his gaze is light and unfocused, which suggests that heâs not really watching. There seem to be dark circles accumulating under his eyes, but maybe thatâs just a trick of the lighting.
Weird. Maybe traveling is tiring him out more than Keith had thought.
Lance is in the audience, watching as Keith delivers his speech. His boyfriend looks happy. Flushed, sure, and tired from all the work heâs been doing, but heâs smiling. His eyes are radiant and bright as he talks about astrodynamics and extraterrestrial colonization and rocket speeds.
Seeing Keith so passionate about something makes Lance really, genuinely happy. He wants to enjoy the speech. He wants to be there for Keith as much as he possibly can. Unfortunately, his body has other plans. His cold is completely draining him of energy, and he can feel the people around him shooting him glares whenever he stifles a sneeze into near-silence or muffles harsh coughs into his sleeves.
Finally, he gets up, gathers all of his belongings, and makes his way to the back of the auditorium. He doesnât want to ruin this for Keith, especially when this event is clearly so important to him. As long as heâs in the back, Keith shouldnât be able to hear him coughing and sneezing every few minutes.
He leans against the back wall, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, and watches as his boyfriend shines.
The first thing Keith does when he finishes his speech is go back into the audience to look for Lance. Heâd seen the taller boy get up and leave halfway through the speech, but the fact that heâs not back yet is a bit concerning.
After a minute, he spots him standing in the back, leaning heavily against the wall. âLance!â Keith calls, jogging over to him. âHowâd I do?â
Lance looks up, his lips curving up into a warm smile. âYou were amazing.â
The adrenaline is still simmering in Keithâs veins, forming butterflies in his stomach, and in the heat of the moment, he tips forward to meet Lanceâs lips. Surprisingly, Lance jerks away before he can make contact. âContagious,â he mutters, his gaze dropping.
Keith frowns, looking him over. Contagious? âBut... youâre not sick.â His eyes narrow accusingly. Now that he thinks about it, Lance does look paler than usual. â...are you?â
âI donât know. A little,â Lance admits, âI donât want to infect you if I am.â His breath hitches sharply and he lifts an arm over his face, stifling sneeze after sneeze into the fabric of his jacket.
âThat doesnât sound good,â Keith comments. âHow long have you been sick?â
âSince... the night before the plane flight.â He lowers his jacket sleeve, sniffling wetly. âBut itâs not that bad.â
The night before the plane flight. Heâs been sick for the whole trip, and Keith hasnât even noticed? Frowning, he thinks back to the start of the trip. That day on the plane flight, when Lance had wanted to sleep on his shoulder, heâd refused. And then after the flight, when Lance had wanted to get soup, Keith hadnât even done that much. How could he have been so blatantly inattentive?
âKeith?â Lance asks, before coughing a few times into the collar of his shirt. âDonât you have people to meet? You should get going.â
Keith flinches, taking a shaky step backwards. Lance had gone out of his way just to go on this trip, and Keith hadnât even been considerate enough to make sure he was comfortable. âYou were sick, and I didnâtâŠâ he stammers, his voice suddenly choking up. âI didnât even realize?â
âKeith, itâs fine. Iâm not taking it personally. You were busy, I get it,â Lance says, smiling as reassuringly as he can. âLetâs just go, okay?â He reaches up, lightly massaging his temples with one hand.
Keith lifts his hand up, pressing the back of his palm to Lanceâs forehead. He withdraws it quickly, cursing under his breath. âYou have a fever. Iâm taking you back,â he says, taking Lance by the arm and leading him to the door.
âKeith, you need to stay to answer questions,â Lance protests weakly, but Keith simply tightens his grip on his arm.
âThat can wait.â
They exit the auditorium, and the bright light outside causes Lance to tense up, letting out two stifled sneezes into his wrist. A crowd is gathered outside. There are a handful of news reporters, holding cameras and microphones and the lot. They all flock over when they see Keith step out. âMr. Kogane, what is your opinion onâŠâ
âSorry,â Keith dismisses them hurriedly, âbut my boyfriend isnât feeling well, so I think Iâll get going early.â
Lance shoots him a disapproving look. âKeith,â he hisses through gritted teeth, âthis is your dream, you canât just do thatââ
âIâve already delivered my speech,â Keith interrupts him. âMy work here is done.â
They weave their way through the crowds of people, with Lance reluctantly following at Keithâs heels. When they get back to the car theyâve rented, Keith lets go of Lance hand and pries open the car door. He slides into the driverâs seat, sliding the key into the ignition, and waits for Lance to do the same.
âYou didnât have to do this,â Lance mumbles, turning away to coughing harshly towards his right side. âIâm not feelingâŠâ sniffle, sniffle, â...that bad.â
âI know,â Keith says, pressing down on the gas pedal. âJust⊠Iâve done a really bad job of taking care of you so far. Which is why Iâm going to make it up to you.â
Person A and Person B are going on a trip- somewhere important. Theyâll be very busy throughout the whole trip. On the day theyâre supposed to leave, Person A wakes up with a sore throat and is just simply a bit more sluggish than usual. They try to hide how theyâre feeling from Person B and it works. Once the two are waiting at the gates for their plane, Person A starts falling asleep against Person B. Person B finds this to be an annoyance and just tries to shrug Person A off, telling them âYou should have gotten more sleep last night!â. Person A feels bad and tries even harder to hide their illness which seems to work. Throughout the first few days of their trip, Person A only gets worse and it gets much more clear that theyâre sick and Person B puts everything together, apologizing profusely for being such an ass.Â