(Hey anon! Love the prompt but I have adapted it to make it a Lance’s Birthday fic!! Hbd to the my fav blue boy!! <33 Here’s a shitty langst fic lmaoo)
When the entire fate of the universe rests upon your shoulders it’s very hard to think of anything else.
There is just too much at stake and as much as Lance has dreamt of being a hero, it requires focus, attention. There is simply no time for anything extra and unnecessary.
But he’s human, of all the Paladins of voltron he is by far the Everyman, he isn’t larger than life in any sense. He allows himself some small extra thing, to keep himself sane. Lance keeps track of the days that goes by. He keeps a calendar, he knows each day, each month. He knows how long they’ve been here.
He knows when it’s his siblings’ birthdays. He knows when Veronica’s turned 21, or when his cousin is having her quinceañera. When those days come he takes a moment to himself to remember, and if he does exist, pray to God to keep said family member safe and happy on their special day.
As Lance checks off his calendar he’s made for himself he realises the days inches further towards his own birthday and it doesn’t really seem to matter. There are things more important than that. He only loved his birthday because of his family, and he did consider of doing something small with his new, surrogate family, but he decided against it. The Voltron team were doing a rather taxing, long mission that had sapped energy out of all of them and he didn’t want to bother anyone. Days of rest were scarce, but valuable. He didn’t dare ruin that. He had decided to keep quiet.
Lance had felt pretty off that whole day. It started off as just a little bit of a sore throat, and he felt a little bit more tired than usual, but everybody was exhausted so he figured it wasn’t anything too serious. He went on with the rest of the day as normal, fighting alien ships and whatnot, and by the end of it Lance felt so incredibly heavy like he could sink down his seat and collapse on the floor. He could barely find the strength to keep himself upright.
He feels so incredibly fatigued, and it seeps through his bones. His throat is horribly sore and his nose is in a constant state of itchiness and he can’t go by five minutes without having to stifle a cough or sneeze. He feels dizzy too, his mind detached from his reality and he doesn’t quite feel he is there. He doesn’t even have the energy to make quips or yell out his usual silly battle cries.
“Great job, team,” Shiro praises as the lions tread back towards the Castle.
“Once we get home, grab a meal, and straight off to bed, we need as much rest as we possibly can. Tomorrow’s another day. We need to be as prepared and equipped for it as possible,” He explains.
“Roger that, Shiro,” Keith nods, his lion following suit.
Lance feels his nose start to burn, his breath catches and he turns himself away from the microphone as to avoid essentially sneezing right into his teammates’ ears. The sneezes are ticklish, quiet, but harsh in a sickly kind of manner.
“Bless you!” Hunk chirps.
He flushes a little at the failure of his plan, but keeps himself composed and clears his throat, sniffling, “Thanks.”
“You okay, Lance?” Keith questions, concern lacing his words.
“M'fine, just something in the air I guess.”
Keith shifts uncomfortably as his lion mounts onto the castle, fully expecting some quip as a response, and possibly a jab at him too, but when it doesn’t come it leaves a strange feeling in his stomach.
Once the Paladins are out of their armour they all beeline towards the common room where everyone flops down onto the couches and groans in exhaustion.
Lance revels in the soft pillowy cushions that is the couch, offering ease to his aching, heavy body. However he is suddenly attacked by a headache, pulsating throughout his head ravaging everything in sight. He hisses in pain, scrunching up his face to brace it, a hand shooting up to try and ease it.
He knows he can’t just leave this thing alone. He’s passed the denial phase, he’s sick and he knows it, and there is zero use in leaving it untreated because there’s no room for slacking or underperforming, not when the universe is at stake.
“Does anyone know if there’s any medicine around here?” He asks hoarsely.
No one replies; and Lance is sure that nobody means anything malicious by it, and as he looks around his thoughts are confirmed because everyone is heaving and panting in exhaustion, too wrapped up in their own exhaustion that they didn’t quite hear him, and if they did they had no energy to reply to him.
Lance bites his tongue then, he doesn’t need to bother anyone. Some sleep was probably enough.
Shiro enters the room then, and as his eyes lay upon the wrecked and fatigued Paladins he can’t help a fond smile, “Alright everybody. We’ve got quite a day, tomorrow. Head off to bed for the night, get some rest and we’ll see you all tomorrow.”
Pidge and Keith nod, hauling their bodies off the couch and dragging themselves towards their bedroom.
“Come on, Lance, get up!” Pidge snaps, gesturing towards the boy who still hadn’t gotten off the couch, still heaving in exhaustion.
“Sorry–just super tired,” He mumbles.
“We all are,” She sighs and gets on her way.
Eventually Lance finds some strength to push himself off the comforts of the couch. He’s sloppy and as he lifts himself off the couch his knees buckle and he’s almost hitting the ground, but his hand quickly grips onto something and holds himself steady. He can’t quite walk in a straight line as the world seems to be spinning around like he’s on some carousel. He drags himself towards his bedroom, exiting the common room.
Hunk is still sitting on the couch, looking rather thoughtful.
“C'mon, Hunk, off to bed.” Shiro chuckles fondly. Hunk smiles softly.
“Uh, actually, Shiro..could I talk to you, for a sec?”
The moment Lance is by himself in the comforts of his own room he completely lets himself go. He lets himself shiver, lets his legs tremble and he lets himself cough, cough so harshly that it’s bending him over and the sheer force of it is just so much he needs to sit down onto his bed, anchor himself onto the edge and bend double. He feels dreadful in every sense of the word.
He rolls underneath his covers to try and rid himself of the cold waves that is making him shiver. But the covers are too warm and he’s being eroded away by hot waves rushing up and down his blood stream. He’s either too hot or too cold and he’s so uncomfortable he can’t help the pathetic whimper that escapes his lips. His skin feels dry; and he has no energy to do his usual skin routine and it sours his mood further. It’s dumb, but something as small as some small self pampering helps Lance unwind and relax.
He shifts and rolls over in discomfort, unable to locate a position that offers some sense of comfort. He’s so tired but he can’t sleep and it’s the worst feeling in the world, he feels so desperate and out of control. He opens his heavy eyes to see his calendar, picking up the pen and crossing off this day and he realises what day tomorrow is.
Lance feels so dumb and so selfish when he feels a pang of sadness as he laments his birthday. How can he be so self indulgent when the survival of the universe hangs in the balance? He’s human, and he desperately wants a day with his family, a day where he can feel alright. But instead here’s here, sick and miserable.
The burning in his head ravages on and spreads towards his nose and he inhales deeply as the tickle spreads like wildfire. He pushes his face into his pillow and lets out two harsh, powerful sneezes, extremely unlike him, they’re never usually this loud, and they make him feel miserable. He lets out a whimper, and in his feverish haze he can sense his loving sister smile softly at him and hear her bless him in that sugary sweet voice of hers.
He can feel his brother’s warm hands massage his shoulders to comfort him, patting him on the back, trying to make him feel better. He can smell his mother’s soup, warm and comforting, heating his soul. He feels so safe, so warm, so loved.
Then he breaks out of his trance, abruptly, rudely, and the cold reality comes seeping back in.
Lance bites back his sob, the sadness and loneliness beginning to spread around his body until it swallows him whole. He count help his tears and sobs as they rush out of the floodgates. He clasps his hand around his mouth to try and stifle the pathetic whimpers as he violently convulses as he cries, his heart longing for his family again, feeling so empty and incomplete.
Lance craves stability again. He craves familiarity because each day that goes on, something changes. He doesn’t deal too well with change, he loves family, the idea of a home he knows he will return to at the end of the day. He likes knowing he belongs.
He coughs harshly, rattling at his chest and he knows his fever is high but he doesn’t have enough energy to ask for help. He wishes someone would just save him, but he knows it doesn’t work like that.
Lance cannot return to his family, but he escapes to a place where he can, in his dreams. As he closes his eyes, still sobbing, he begs whatever higher power out there to take his mind and send him to them, even just for a little while, just to see them again. And when it comes he lets it cover him like a blanket.
“Lance, sweetheart?” His mother calls softly, “Can you wake up, now, please?”
Lance groans, the light hitting his face and causing him to scrunch up his nose, nodding. Eyes still closed, he rubs at his face as he forces himself upright onto his bed. The moment he opens his eyes he jumps in alarm.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY LANCE!” His entire family yells, bright, warm grins on their faces.
He has no clue how they all managed to fit in to his adequately sized room, but they have. Everyone is here. All his cousins and nieces and siblings and grandparents. All here, and he can feel their love radiating off of them and it warms him to his very core. Initially he feels shock, surprise and his heart races for a few moments but immediately it is replaced by pure joy, his heart touched by the gesture. Tears prick at his eyes and his smile is shaky.
“God, you guys..you didn’t..have to–” Lance manages to say, but it’s hard for him to find words because it’s like he’s on cloud nine. His heart is glowing and he can’t help but hold it, as if trying to contain the magic brewing within him, like he could explode with the euphoria he feels right now.
“Open your presents tío!” His niece shrieks excitedly, grabbing at a sack and emptying its contents onto Lance’s bed.
“Oh god! There are so many!” Lance gasps. His family isn’t wealthy; and the presents he has before him is sparse as compared to a regular person’s amount, but to Lance, it’s a plethora. The fact his family had so little, and were willing to give him so much, forces the brewing tears to spill onto his cheeks.
Veronica laughs and leans in to kiss his cheek affectionately, “Of course, we love you.”
She wipes away his tears, her voice fond, “Now stop crying, you baby.”
Lance chuckles shakily at that. And the next while consists of him opening presents, discovering a new jacket, a sweater his abuela handmade for him, some arts and crafts projects his nieces and nephews made him, a new Star Wars video game, new swimming togs, face creams courtesy of Veronica..and so forth. Until there is one present left; shiny and sparkling, wrapped with so much love and care Lance is instantly drawn to it, like there is some sort of magnetic force drawing them to each other.
Lance senses some tension in the room, and his fingers clumsily untangle the bow that holds the packaging together. He feels their gazes burning holes into him, and he’s nervous.
He slowly, and cautiously unfolds the paper and when his eyes lock upon the sight before him his blood runs cold and his heart freezes.
He can feel his breathing pick up and his hands are shaking violently, he cannot believe his eyes. And he tears come back again, harder this time.
Before him is a Garrison Uniform, neatly folded and squeaky clean, ready to be worn.
“Díos mio..” Lance breathes.
“I..I..I got in?” He chokes.
His mother’s face is completely engulfed by a sunny smile, and she’s began to cry too.
“Sí, hijo, you got in! You did it!” She exclaims joyfully.
“Oh my god, I..I did it!” Lance cries out happily, and immediately his entire family jumps up screaming in joy, charging in for a huge family hug. Lance feels like his suffocating, but he’s never felt so happy in his life.
“You’re going to be among the stars, one day, my boy. Make us proud..”
A gentle shake on the shoulder returns Lance to his harsh reality, and his miserable symptoms kick in almost instantaneously. He becomes aware of his painful, dreadful headache and his feverish body, and he can’t help his violent shivers.
“Lance, buddy, wake up,” Keith says softly.
Lance gets up slowly, his world spinning violently that it makes him feel a little nauseous. He needs to hold on to the frame of his bed to steady his vision, and he looks over to his alarm clock and gasps. He was meant to be awake almost two hours ago!
Keith glances at Lance’s pale face, with dark undereyes and a saturated flushing on his cheeks and nose, “Oh, Lance..”
“Quiznack, I overslept! I’m so sorry–the mission–” Lance kicks the covers off, trying to scramble away but his face scrunches up and he erupts into a ticklish fit of sneezes, each sneeze desperate and sickly sounding. He isn’t able to cover the first few, but manages to cover the incoming ones with the crook of his arm.
“Bless you,” Keith offers but Lance doesn’t stop, he’s still going–until one particularly loud sneeze causes him to bang his face against his elbow. Keith grimaces in sympathy, passing him a tissue for him to continue his fit in, until it eventually subsides.
Once Lance finishes, his eyes are watery and he can’t breathe through his nose, but he still forces himself off the bed and the world tilts and his knees buckle and he’s freefalling, but Keith’s strong arm catches him and hurls him back towards his bed.
Keith’s eyes look sad, “Hey, buddy, maybe it’s better if you stay in bed today..”
“No! I need to go on the–” He coughs, “the mission! We can’t..form voltron otherwise! I can’t..be a burden on this team..”
Lance begins to haul himself out of his bedroom and towards the bridge, much to Keith’s protests. His head pounds and his body feels like it weighs tonnes but he forces himself towards the bridge.
When he makes it he feels like he’s spent years trudging through the desert suffocating beneath the hot Saharan sun.
“I’m sorry I’m late, I didn’t mean to, let’s start the missi–” Lance starts to hack, coughing his lungs out, bent double with the sheer force. He feels horribly light and faint.
“Oh, Lance, buddy..” Hunk whispers softly, his voice dripping with sympathy.
“I can do it, I swear, please let me do it, we gotta..” Lance trails off, looking up to see their concerned faces, worry etched onto each of their features. But once his teary eyes focus he’s able to see beyond them; the bridge beautifully decorated with a “Happy Birthday, Lance!” banner, there’s some smudged black paint in the corner, and there’s some alien craft that is meant to resemble balloons, and a cake.
And it’s not just because of his fever.
“Happy birthday, pal,” Hunk smiles sweetly.
His eyes water, “Y..you guys..”
“Happy birthday, Lance..uh..and I’m sorry about the smudge, that was..kind of my fault,” Shiro admits bashfully.
“No..i..it’s perfect,” He whispers.
“..And we didn’t have time to get you a proper present, but we found these little gems and we hope this is a little something until we get something better,” Pidge explains as she places a bracelet into his hands; the brace is silver and there are seven little gems, five gems with the same colour of their lions, and one pink one for Allura, and an orange one for Coran.
Lance’s lip begins to wobble, joy warming his heart and he feels like he’s glowing, twinkling and sparkling.
“And I made you some garlic knots..I tried my hardest to replicate some Cuban spices but you can only get so close with alien ingredients,” Hunk offers, gesturing towards a large plate.
Lance’s face crumples and he begins to sob, incredibly moved, his heavy soul feeling much lighter, a new light igniting within him bringing warmth to the coldness that had started to spread throughout him.
Keith puts an arm around him and lets him cry into his shoulder, “Shh..hey, pal, why are you crying?”
“I’m just..so happy. I don’t deserve you guys..I..made a promise to my mother that I’d make her proud, and I feel so dumb for being tired when there are important missions to do..and yet you guys are still..so nice to me,” He sobs.
“Lance, you’re sick. That’s okay. You can take a rest. And look, I don’t know your mother–but we’re all very proud of you. I’m very proud of you. So I’m so sure she would feel the same,” Keith reassures, a little bit awkward, but just as caring as he brushes his hand through Lance’s hair.
One by one everyone on the team joins in the hug, and each time Lance feels a little bit more while. A little less alone. He can finally feel at home; it’s not quite what he’s grown to know, but maybe it’s just as good. It will do.
“We love you, Lance, all of us,” Hunk whispers lovingly.
He’ll uphold his promise to his mother. He does lives with the stars, these friends who shine just as bright as the stars, and somehow, he’s one of them. Shining just as bright, with their love.
