Thorn in your side- Short preview
Alright, I asked and you guys responded, hereâs a tiny snippit of a fic Iâm working on câ: Iâve still got awayâs to go on it, I hope itâs good enough!
This fic is pretty gen for relationships, so please keep that mind! Takes place between s7ep4 and s7ep5
Warnings: Contains mention of vomit, and a brief mention of blood.
Shiro isnât sure what wakes him in the middle of the night. He was in Lanceâs lion tonight, which was usually pretty peaceful. He wasnât sure if he could handle Pidgeâs sleep talk or Hunks snoring again. He blinks and rubs his eyes, when he notices it.
Thereâs a horrible retching sound coming from close by. He could almost mistake it for Hunk if he werenât in Lanceâs lion right now. He bolts out of bed and turns on the overhead lights in the cargo bay.
The poor kid was doubled over on his knees, one hand on his stomach and the other on his mouth. Thereâs a small puddle of what he assumes was Lanceâs meager dinner in front of him. He can see the tears welling at the corners of his eyes. He finally notices Shiro as he brings over an empty bucket. His eyes go wide with horror at the realization, but not for long as he begins heaving again.
âM'sorry. Didnât mean to wake you,â he says when heâs finished. Heâs shaking all over.
âNo need to apologise, people get sick. Câmon, letâs get you back into bed, youâre looking a little worse for wear.â
He helps him get into the bed, avoiding the mess of vomit, placing the bucket nearby. He hums a moment before placing his hand on Lanceâs forehead. Warm, but not overly.
âDid you eat anything strange today Lance?â He asks.
âI think when youâre in space with alien food everything could be considered strange.â
âI mean anything different from the rest of us?â
Lance shakes his head weakly, âno, I had everything you guys did.â
Food poisoning didnât seem so likely then. Perhaps an allergy? Had he been exposed to a virus?
âIâm gonna call Coran, just try to rest buddy.â
Lance hums an affirmative before Shiro moves into the cockpit, pressing the button thatâll call the black lion. It takes several moments before a very sleepy Keith comes into view on the screen, âLance I swear if this another question about-â
âKeith, itâs me.â Shiro interrupts.
Keith rubs his eyes, âoh, sorry Shiro,â his eyes widen, âwait why are you calling my lion? Whereâs Lance?â
âThatâs exactly why Iâm calling, I need you to get Coran, somethingâs wrong with Lance.â
Keith wakes up more at that, âWhat do you mean? Whatâs going on?â
âI think heâs sick, and Iâm not really confident in this area. I just want Coran to take a look at him.â
âYeah of course, give us a few doboshes.â
Shiro turns off the comm link and returns back to the cargo hold. Lance has already fallen back asleep sitting up. He moves to clean up the mess on the floor, almost made it to the bathroom too, when he hears steps come up the ramp.
Keith leads dressed in just his black flight suit, his version of pajamas Shiro would say. He always found them uncomfortably tight, but Keith never once complained. He always used the excuse he liked to be prepared. He couldnât argue with that.
Coran follows after, but in his robe and pajamas, with a medical box in hand. Duh, why hadnât he thought of that? He blames midnight grogginess as Coran goes straight to Lance.
âHey lad, can you wake up for a tick?â He asks softly. He gives him a slight pat on his shoulder.
âMmmmâŚâ he stirs, turning his head to the tone of Corans voice, âTired. Donât wanna.â
âCâmon number 3, up and at em just for a few doboshes.â
Lance opens his eyes half way, Coran smiles at him, âAh there you are. Heard you werenât feeling too great from Shiro, what happened?â
âPulled a Hunk. Stomachs cramped pretty bad.â
âAlright well letâs take a look then shall we?â He pulls out a mobile scanner from the medical box. Lance lies still as Coran does the scan. The altean man frowns at the results.
âThatâs a bit odd, thereâs something unidentifiable in his system,â he announces more to himself then the audience of Keith and Shiro.
âWhat do you mean âunidentifiableâ? I thought the scanners were more advanced then our tech?â Keith asks, folding his arms.
âOh they are. But viruses, bacteria, poisons and toxins have changed quite a bit in the last 10,000 years. And besides, these are just a portable version of what the cryopods would be better suited to handle.â
âThen what are we supposed to do? Do we even know if this is dangerous?â
âI donât have an answer for that unfortunately. But Iâm sure with a few blood samples and with some help from number 2 and 5 we can figure out what exactly this is. Oh, and time.â
Keith and Shiro both sigh, giving worried glances to the other. So that was the master game plan. Sit around, and pray this wasnât deadly. Or contagious. Or both.
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