An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Keith & Shiro (Voltron)
Characters: Keith (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron)
Additional Tags: Whump Fight 2025, Whump, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Sick Keith (Voltron), Fever, Sickfic, Hiding Medical Issues, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron)-centric
Series: Part 15 of In which I whump Keith
Summary:
Battles have to be fought, whether Keith feels like crap or not.
Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron Legendary Defender.
Summary: Shiro wakes up to see Keith standing at the foot of his bed. The poor kid is sick and has thrown up.
Author Note: This is Pre-Kerberos Adashi and was suggested by Queenscene2.
"Ailing Keith"
Shiro didn't know what woke him up at first. It couldn't be Adam snoring, which was a reason he couldn't get to sleep rather than something that would wake him up. So, what was it?
He twitched his right arm, glad it moved as it meant that a sleep paralysis demon wasn't perched at the end of his bed. He slowly opened one of his eyes, waiting for it to acclimate to the darkness.
However, he saw softly glowing, yellow eyes. If he hadn't registered that he knew those eyes, he would have screamed. As it was, he smiled gently and opened his other eye. "Keith? What's wrong, bud?"
He heard a sniffle and a whisper, "I'm sorry, Shiro. I didn't mean to."
"Didn't mean to what? To wake me up? Don't worry about that."
Keith shook his head. "It's not that. I-"
Shiro was which when he saw Keith run from the room to the adjoined bathroom. The tell tales sounds of someone throwing up into the toilet could be heard, which made Shiro wince. He didn't know exactly how Keith was going to take being taken care of, but he /had/ come to Shiro on his own accord, so he might be expecting it. Shiro didn't know if Keith wanted him to be in the bathroom with him, but when he heard Keith whine, he knew he had to go in.
The strange thing was there were noises Keith made that weren't human. Shiro and Adam had both heard it but never acted like he wasn't human. It had been something that Keith had confided in them about. Some of his previous Foster families heard the noises and punished him for making those noises. Shiro and Adam made sure to assure Keith that it was okay with them to make those noises when he wanted to. The whine was a noise that told them that he needed help and affection.
Shiro got up from the bed and went over to Keith's side. He called out, "Keith?" to let the teen know he was coming in. He gently rubbed Keith's back. "It's okay, bud. I'm here. I've got ya."
Keith whined again but softer. Shiro scooted a little closer to him. "Do you want a hug?"
Keith looked at Shiro and gave a questioning noise. It was a noise that conveyed confusion. Shiro held his arms out. "You can come here, bud, if you want."
Keith moved slowly and leaned into Shiro's embrace. Shiro wrapped his arms around the teen and wasn't surprised to feel Keith nuzzle into his shoulder. Shiro raised a hand and stroked Keith's hair, which was something he knew that Keith found comforting.
"Let's move out of the bathroom. You can lay down in the living room, on the couch."
"Can I just stay in my nest?" The question was barely louder than a whisper.
Shiro smiled. Keith didn't sleep in a bed but in an organized pile of pillows and blankets he called a nest. It gave him comfort and made him feel safe. "Of course."
Shiro carefully shifted his hold on the teen and lifted him up off the floor. "You feeling okay, bud?"
"Yeah. For now."
Shiro exited the bathroom but paused when he saw Adam sitting up in the bed, his hair mussed from sleeping. "Takashi?"
"It's okay, Adam. Keith is sick-"
"Sick? Does he need anything? Does he want to sleep here?"
"No. He wants to go back to his nest."
"Okay. If that's what he wants. Our bed is open to you whenever you want, kiddo."
Keith chirped, making Adam smile at the noise. It was a noise that meant one of two things, either excitement or agreement; it just depended on the situation.
"Let's get you to your nest, so you can rest."
Shiro carried Keith to his room and gently laid him into the nest. When he turned to leave, he heard a whimper. That was a new noise, and as such, it made Shiro pause and turn around to face Keith. "Keith?"
"C-can you stay...for a little while?"
"Of course." Shiro sat down next to the nest, and Keith repositioned himself so he could have a hand resting on Shiro's knee. Keith closed his eyes, wanting to get some rest.
Shiro pulled out his tablet to get some work done, while Keith rested. He planned on slipping away once Keith feel asleep. However, he didn't plan on falling asleep, leaning against the nest.
%%%
Adam was waiting for Shiro to come back to bed, but after a couple of hours, he finally got up to see what was keeping his fiancée from returning. He quietly walked to Keith's room and heard a comforting noise. Keith was purring. He looked into the room and saw his fiancée and Keith both asleep. A smile appeared on his face, and he slipped back to the room he shared with Shiro, grabbing a couple of blankets before coming back to Keith's room. He draped a blanket over Shiro and settled down next to him under the other blanket. He closed his eyes and laid against Shiro's shoulder, lulled to sleep by Keith's purring.
Written for @gentronlegendaryfriendships
Day 5 Prompt: Hanahaki Disease | Cuddling
Word Count: 1,433
Characters: Keith & Shiro
Read on AO3
“How you holding up there, bud?” Shiro asked as he approached the couch, bowl of soup in hand.
Keith let out a little sniff and poked the top of his head out from under the scratchy blanket. His hair was in disarray, his nose was red and stood out glaringly against his pasty, sweaty face, and the look in his tired eyes was murderous. “How do you think?” he snapped.
“Well, I mean, I figured you’re still sick,” Shiro said. “But are you better, worse, or the same as last time I asked?”
Keith thought for a moment before grunting out, “Same.”
Shiro nodded sympathetically. “I hear you. Flu’s never fun.” He set the bowl of soup on the coffee table in front of him, glancing down at the old mixing bowl that was on the floor beside Keith. It was still empty, which meant Keith hadn’t thrown up, but Shiro didn’t know if that was because his nausea had finally settled, or if there was just nothing left in him to puke. “Whenever you’re ready to eat something, I’ve got some chicken noodle here for you, and we can microwave it if it gets too cold.”
Keith groaned and ducked back under his blanket. “Don’t talk about food,” he mumbled. “I’m never eating again for the rest of my life.”
Shiro let out a dry laugh, but he felt Keith’s pain. After all, last week, he had been the one lying here on the couch in the throes of a particularly bad strain of the flu. Adam had gotten it even before him, and the moment his symptoms started popping up, Shiro had kept his distance from Keith and limited their interactions only to text messages and video calls, figuring that the virus would be hitting him next and not wanting the young cadet to catch it from him.
It probably would have worked out too if the flu hadn’t somehow snuck its way into one of the other cadets in Keith’s flight class. Now, half of the fighter pilot trainees were out sick, and of course, Keith was one of them. At least Shiro’s own flu had already come and gone, and he could now take care of Keith without having to worry about catching it again.
Keith had insisted that it wasn’t necessary, that he could stay in the infirmary or get medicine from the nurse and hibernate in his dorm like a few of the other cadets were doing, but Shiro wouldn’t hear of it. He was more than aware of how often in the past Keith was left to fend for himself in times of poor health – something he had learned after the first time Keith had insisted on patching up his own injuries after a hoverbike wipeout – and he wasn’t about to let him endure that again on his watch.
So, they’d packed up a couple of toiletries and changes of clothes for Keith, and Shiro had brought him to his and Adam’s apartment to ride the flu out.
Keith, of course, was getting no end of frustration out of the illness, and Shiro could certainly understand why. The boy prided himself on his independence and hardiness, both which were in short supply when he was spending the day lying on the couch, moaning and vomiting during the spurts of time when he was awake, with barely enough strength to sit up.
At least his fever had finally broken earlier that day. It had peaked the day prior at a hundred and two point nine degrees, leaving Keith burning up and even hallucinating, mumbling nonsense about the weird paintings on the apartment’s ceiling, rolling off the couch and trying to crawl out the door in order to start hunting down his missing pet frogs, and angrily demanding that Shiro stop floating in the air because it was freaking him out.
Now, after the break, Keith back to his usual self, albeit ten times as grumpy and with a painfully empty stomach. Not to mention the fever chills that sometimes accompanied a fever breaking. Keith tried to hide it, but Shiro knew that he was shivering under that heavy blanket.
“You sure you don’t want the soup now?” he asked. “It’ll warm you up.”
“Not hungry,” Keith mumbled.
“In that case, you want me to grab another blanket for you?”
“Unh-uh,” he said, and Shiro could see the shape of his head shaking where it was buried under the blanket.
“Keith,” Shiro sighed. “I know that you’re feeling cold right now. You don’t need to hide it.”
“I’m fine,” Keith said.
Shiro rolled his eyes. In Keith-speak, ‘I’m fine’ could mean anything from ‘I am actually fine’ to ‘I am standing on death’s door as we speak and you’re going to need a bigger mop for all this blood.’ Basically, it was a terribly inaccurate method of determining how Keith was actually faring, but right now, Shiro could figure out a rough translation: he was feeling crappy but didn’t want to ask for help and appear weak.
“All right,” Shiro said slowly. “That’s good. Well, as long as you’re feeling fine, do you mind if I watch TV in here?”
“Uh,” Keith said, “Sure, I guess?”
Shiro grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and turned on their streaming service, looking for something quiet and dull, but not so much so that Keith would pick up that Shiro wasn’t actually interested in watching the TV. He ended up settling on a nature documentary series, selecting an episode about fish and turning the volume down.
“Okay, scoot over,” he said as the episode started to play.
“Hm?” said Keith, pulling his blanket down far enough to blink up at Shiro in confusion.
“Your head’s in my favorite TV-watching spot,” said Shiro. “You’re feeling fine, so you’d be all right to sit up for a bit, right?”
“… Yeah. ‘Course.” Keith managed to bring himself to a sitting position and shuffled over to make room for Shiro, who plopped down onto the vacated cushion with a satisfied sigh.
As the documentary played, Shiro made sure to keep one eye on Keith, who blinked sleepily at the screen and hugged the blanket closely around him. Shiro draped his arm over the top of the couch, and every minute or so, he would adjust himself, inching just a little bit closer to Keith.
So when the fatigue finally got the best of Keith and his eyes drifted closed as he flopped back to sleep, Shiro was ready for him. He caught him in time to tilt Keith toward himself, and Keith fell against Shiro, his slumbering breaths just a little raspy from the dryness that the flu had left him with.
Shiro now could easily feel the shivers that had overtaken Keith’s body, and he pulled the boy closer, letting his head drop onto Shiro’s opposite shoulder and wrapping his own arm all the way across his body. He brought his hand under the blanket to rub some warmth up and down Keith’s goosebump-covered arm, and in his sleep Keith nestled closer, tucking his head into Shiro’s chest and looking half his actual age as he slept.
Shiro smiled. It had worked; if Keith wasn’t going to bite for any other method of warming up, then good old-fashioned sharing of body heat would have to do.
It seemed to be working, as Keith’s shivering ever so gradually began to die down, until he was finally resting peacefully, wrapped in Shiro’s arms.
And Shiro wasn’t sure when exactly he had fallen asleep as well, but one moment he was slumped on the couch, snuggled with Keith, and the next, the apartment had darkened and he was awakened by the sound of the apartment door opening.
He was quick to shush the newcomer, bringing a finger to his lips as Adam approached, tilting his head as he examined the scene. “He’s sleeping,” Shiro whispered unnecessarily.
“I can see that,” Adam whispered back.
“His fever broke. He was pretending he wasn’t cold, but…”
“Yeah, you know Keith better than that. I’ll leave you two in peace.”
“Thanks,” Shiro whispered, letting his eyes fall shut again and relaxing back against the couch as Adam left the room. Keith squirmed a little bit in his sleep, but didn’t rouse, instead staying where he was, practically right on top of Shiro.
It was a surprisingly cozy position, and soon Shiro was once again fast asleep, so quickly he wasn’t even able to notice Adam returning a minute later with a camera to capture the moment.
Summary: Keith mysteriously falls ill during a New Years celebration on planet Clarine. It’s up to the team to figure out what’s wrong and fix it.
A/N: I imagine that this planet has their version of Christmas during our New Year, so that’s why it’s kind of a mixture of the two. Also, sorry this is a bit late! I wanted to get it out sooner, but every time I went to edit, it just became progressively longer lol
T/W: There’s mention of blood, and Keith pukes a couple times, but it’s not graphic.
It’s a wonderful event. The brightly-lit hallways are adorned with vibrant golds and silvers, and cheerful chattering echoes throughout the room. It feels warm and festive, and Keith’s happy to spend time bonding with everyone during the holiday season. Albeit, he would’ve preferred to spend New Years on Earth, and preferably somewhere slightly less crowded, but this banquet on planet Clarine isn’t half bad.
A tall alien creature wearing a tuxedo comes by to offer him what appears to be champagne. He holds one hand elegantly behind his back, while the other carries a shiny silver tray filled with several tall glasses of golden liquid.
“Would you care for a glass of Lemark?” he asks politely, extending the tray in Keith’s direction.
“Uhhh…” Keith hesitates for a moment, “Sure… thanks.”
He reaches out to pluck one of the glasses from the tray, then stares intently at the strange liquid inside. Just as he’d thought, it seems to be similar to champagne, but as he observes it more closely, he realizes it’s different in several ways. It’s not as bubbly, the color is more vivid, and it’s thick, consistency similar to that of molasses.
“Strange…” Keith muses, bringing the glass to his lips to take a sip.
It’s a confusing flavor - something like sickeningly sweet carbonated honey. He’s not sure he likes it, but downs it anyways for the sake of politeness. For all it’s sweetness, the bitter aftertaste it leaves in his mouth comes as a surprise and Keith doesn’t understand how one drink could have such vastly different flavor profiles. He screws his eyes shut as the bitterness intensifies, then goes to search for something to wash away the harsh taste.
He settles on some cookies shaped like bunny rabbits with reindeer antlers. He grabs one, then goes to stand in a corner, away from all the hustle and bustle of cheerfully drunk aliens.
“Ah,” a voice suddenly comes up behind him. Keith jolts, momentarily startled, then relaxes once he realizes it’s Coran. “A Hoornux cookie!” Coran exclaims cheerfully. “The Hoornux are said to deliver presents into homes by burrowing underground here in Clarine. Quite a tale, is it not?”
“Oh…” Keith trails off staring at the rabbit’s partially-bitten antler. “Yeah… I guess?” he says, cocking an eyebrow.
Another tuxedo-wearing alien strolls past them with a tray of something that looks vaguely similar to cheesecake, and Coran’s eyes light up with excitement.
“Well,” Coran pats him once on the back, “Take it easy, Number Four. I see some Plantonoof calling my name, and I must oblige,” he says as he skips away merrily.
Keith gives a slight smile, then shifts his eyes around the room. He sees Lance talking animatedly with Allura, urging her to try some odd-looking mousse; Hunk is sitting down with a plate full of desserts while Pidge is showing him some sort of computer chip device; Shiro is chatting with the leader of Clarine as he knocks back something akin to red wine. Everyone looks so cheerful, and the slight smile on Keith’s face grows wider.
He glances back down at his cookie and… hold on… why are there suddenly two cookies? For some reason, Keith’s seeing double and he has to brace himself against the wall for a moment as he’s hit with a wave of disorienting dizziness. One hand moves up to his face as he tries to collect himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. After a few moments, Keith slowly opens his eyes again, blinks a few times, then shakily moves his hand away from his face. To his relief, the double-vision and dizziness seem to have dissipated, and Keith brushes the momentary feeling of faintness off as exhaustion. He’s fine. Whatever that was, he’s sure it’s nothing serious.
“Hey,” he registers Shiro’s voice before his presence and turns to see Shiro coming up next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks with a warm smile.
“It’s not really my scene, but….. Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Keith says, looking up and matching Shiro’s smile with one of equal warmth.
“Good,” Shiro says, relief spreading across his eyes, “I’m glad.”
After a few moments, however, Shiro’s smile morphs into a slight grimace. “Hey, Keith,” he says, turning Keith slightly more towards himself, “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“I…” Keith’s not sure what to say. He’s feeling slightly dizzy again, but he doesn’t think it’s anything important enough to concern Shiro with. He looks around once more at his fellow Paladins’ smiling faces and sighs. They’d all been so upset that they couldn’t go back home for the holidays, but right now they all seem to be having such a wonderful time. He can’t ruin that for them. Keith swallows, then forces a smile, “I’m fine,” he says reassuringly, “Just tired.”
Shiro raises a skeptical eyebrow, “You sure?”
“Yeah…”
He’s definitely not sure. His vision is blurring in and out, his head is pounding, and he feels like he’s going to topple over at any moment.
“I think…” he swallows, looking away from Shiro, “I think I just need some air…”
He can feel his face growing paler, sweat beading on his skin, and he hopes that Shiro doesn’t notice how sick he’s sure he looks.
“Well,” Shiro says, eyebrows knitting together in worry, “Alright… but let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll come check on you in a few minutes.”
Shiro watches Keith walk out onto the balcony and lingers in place, not wanting to be overbearing, but unable to completely ignore his instincts telling him that something’s wrong.
Keith walks out into the cool, night breeze and lets out a relieved sigh. The darkness alleviates his headache a bit and the crisp air makes him feel less like he’s about to collapse. He takes a deep breath in. He’s feeling better already…
Or… at least he was. Now, everything is suddenly coming back full force. He can feel his legs shaking beneath him, his arms feel weak and achy, his mind is muddled and turning with dizziness, and his skin feels like its burning. He closes his eyes and draws in a sharp, unsteady breath in an attempt to ground himself. It’s no use. He still feels absolutely awful.
He sways slightly when another wave of dizziness hits him. He braces himself against the balcony railing, trying to stay upright, but still feels himself slowly beginning to teeter sideways. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable feeling of his face connecting with hard, cool stone, but instead, he feels two strong arms on his shoulders steadying him.
“Whoa!” Shiro exclaims, “You have a little too much to drink there, bud?” The tone of Shiro’s voice is light, but Keith can also hear the tinge of concern in it.
“Something like that…” Keith mumbles. He’d only had one glass of that strange champagne, but perhaps alien alcohol is more potent, he muses.
“You wanna sit down?” Shiro asks, voice sounding slightly more worried.
Keith hesitates for a moment. He does want to sit - preferably lie down, even - but he also doesn’t want Shiro worrying about him on a night that’s supposed to be fun and carefree.
“Nah, I’m fine.” Keith says, steadying his voice and wearing the best fake smile he can possibly manage. He pauses for a moment, glances at Shiro nonchalantly, trying to get a read on his expression - it’s riddled with concern. “Shiro, I...” It comes out shakier than Keith had intended. He clears his throat, then continues, “I’m fine… just not used to drinking alien alcohol, I guess.” Keith says with a half-hearted laugh.
Shiro pauses for a few seconds, unsure if he should force the issue or not. He finally settles on a tentative, “Well… okay,” as he slowly releases his grip on Keith’s shoulders.
Several moments of silence fall between the two. Shiro, quietly debating with himself whether or not to push Keith to talk to him, and Keith, focusing on acting as natural as possible in front of Shiro. Unfortunately for Keith, however, he can feel the effects of the champagne flaring up again and he’s not sure he can keep this facade up much longer.
He draws in a shaky breath, then turns to Shiro with a slight smile, “You can go back inside, you know?” He had intended for it to sound casual and friendly, but instead, it came out urgent and insistent.
Shiro frowns slightly, then lets out a heavy sigh. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this - he’d hoped Keith would tell him on his own - but he can’t ignore it any longer.
“Keith,” he says gently, placing one hand on Keith’s shoulder, “You don’t have to pretend. I can tell you’re not feeling well.”
Keith’s eyes widen. He’d thought he was doing a good job of hiding it. How could Shiro tell? How did he pick up on it so easily? Then again, this was Shiro. Shiro always saw right through him. He should’ve known.
Keith grimaces. “I just… tonight’s supposed to be fun…” he pauses, looks down and starts fiddling with his fingers, “I don’t want you worrying about me when you should be in there enjoying yourself... I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll be fine, Shiro.”
Abruptly, there’s a cool hand pressing against his forehead, and Keith’s gaze snaps up to meet Shiro’s concerned eyes.
“You feel warm…” Shiro notes with a frown. “Come on. Talk to me, Keith. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Keith glances back down, purses his lips, shifts his eyes to the side, clenches his fists, scowls.
“I…” Keith pauses, swallows, then takes a deep breath, “I dunno… kinda dizzy… and weak, I guess…” he says with a shrug.
“Okay,” Shiro says softly, “What else?”
Keith glances at him, then shifts his gaze to look out over the balcony, “Nauseous… I don’t know… I just… don’t feel good…” he mumbles.
“How much have you had to drink?” Shiro asks.
“Just one glass of some weird gold stuff… kinda like champagne…” Keith answers.
“Only one…?” Shiro mutters more to himself than to Keith. He pauses for a moment to think, then looks over to Keith again. He’s visibly paler than he was a few minutes ago, a sheen of sweat beginning to form on his forehead, and, despite Keith’s best efforts to appear in-control, he’s starting to sway unsteadily on his feet again. Shiro frowns. “Let’s head back. I think you should rest.”
“I….” Keith considers it for a brief moment, “No. No, we can’t. I don’t… want you to…” he trails off when his head starts to swim. Everything is suddenly moving in and out of focus, his stomach is churning like tsunami waves, and Keith can feel his knees starting to buckle as his legs finally give out.
“Keith…?” Shiro watches as Keith’s face goes even paler, all the color draining from it completely. He sees Keith’s eyes moving sluggishly, trying to refocus, and then he finds his body moving to cradle Keith’s head as Keith collapses.
“Keith!” he exclaims, rearranging Keith so he’s cradled in his arms. “Keith?! Keith!” he calls out, shaking him slightly.
His heart drops when he takes in Keith’s appearance. There’s sweat pooling on his skin and his body is trembling, his breaths come in shallow, erratic huffs, and his face is so devoid of color that he could almost pass for a ghost.
“Keith! Come on, bud!” Shiro urges, brushing Keith’s hair out of his face. He’s about to give him another gentle shake, but instead stops abruptly, completely stunned. “What the…?” Keith’s skin suddenly feels cold - like icicles.
Shiro looks down again and notices Keith’s lips look slightly bluish. How had his body temperature taken such a drastic turn so quickly?
“Keith! Keith!” Shiro taps his collar bone lightly, but urgently.
“Mmmnnnn…” Keith groans softly as his eyes slowly peel open.
“Sh… Shiro… wh… what’s… happening?” Keith asks, eyes unfocused - looking at Shiro but not really seeing him.
“I…” Shiro’s at a loss for words. “I don’t know, bud, but we’re gonna fix it, okay? Don’t worry.”
Shiro lifts his arm up, shoving back his sleeve, then starts speaking into a watch-like device around his wrist.
“Paladins, this is an emergency. I need all of you out here. Now.” he commands with burning authority.
“Sh… Shiro, I…” Keith’s breath is all over the place. He’s panting, unable to inhale or exhale at a steady pace. “I…”
“What is it, bud?” Shiro asks gently. He’s trying his best to stay calm, but the worried knit of his eyebrows betrays him.
Keith somehow musters up the strength to shove himself away from Shiro. He scrambles forwards on hands and knees, then hangs his head between the balcony railing and promptly pukes over the edge.
Shiro sits there, stunned for a moment, then quickly recovers and leaps into action. He kneels beside Keith, draping an arm gently around his shoulders. Keith’s grateful for the contact. It grounds him and he tries his best to focus on that.
“It’s okay, Keith. You’re okay.” Shiro says comfortingly, rubbing soothing up and down motions into Keith’s arm with his other hand.
“Shiro, what happened?!” Allura demands with concern as she and the rest of the Paladins run out onto the balcony.
Keith heaves again.
“It’s Keith, he-” Shiro begins to explain, keeping his eyes trained on Keith.
“Oh my gosh! Is he seriously drunk?” Lance exclaims, incredulous, but slightly annoyed.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Pidge muses, pushing up her glasses.
“I-is he okay?” Hunk asks, awkwardly fiddling with his fingers.
“Let me guess,” Lance sighs dramatically, crossing his arms and giving a slight eye-roll, “We have to go back now because Keith can’t hold his-”
“He’s not drunk!” Shiro shouts angrily, rubbing Keith’s back through a dry heave. “I’ve got you,” he says softly to Keith before continuing. “There’s something wrong with him. I… I don’t know. He only had one glass. He shouldn’t be sick like this.”
Everyone freezes, concern spreading across their faces. It’s unnerving hearing Shiro so panicked and, as they take in Keith’s disheveled appearance, they realize how ungodly pale he is. They carefully approach, kneeling down close, but also far enough to give Keith some space. His shoulder blades are moving up and down violently as he gasps and chokes on pained breaths.
“You finished?” Shiro asks gently.
Keith shakily turns towards him, bleary-eyed, and manages a small nod.
“Alright,” Shiro says softly, giving Keith’s shoulder a light squeeze, “I’m gonna move you now, okay?”
“Hnnn,” Keith gives a strained but affirmative groan.
Shiro carefully maneuvers him into a sitting position, facing away from the balcony, then takes his suit jacket off and drapes it around Keith’s shoulders. Keith closes his eyes, trying to ward off the dizziness and focus on steadying his breathing, but finds himself tilting sideways again. He lands with a gentle plop against Shiro’s muscular shoulder.
“You think you might pass out again?” Shiro questions, concerned.
“Mmmmm,” Keith whimpers in confirmation.
“Okay,” Shiro says softly, “Here. Head between your knees.” He gently repositions Keith, then begins rubbing his back as Keith continues to breathe unsteadily.
“What happened?!” Pidge asks, eyebrows furrowed together in concern.
“I…” Shiro begins to speak, but notices Keith swaying again. “Keith? You okay?” he asks softly, wrapping his arms around him to keep him steady. When Keith doesn’t respond, he bites his lip nervously. “Keith? You with us bud?” he asks urgently.
“Hnnn,” Keith chokes out a barely-audible groan.
“We must get him back to the castle.” Allura asserts. “I’ll dial in our coordinates, and-”
“N… no,” Keith breathes. “Just… gimme a minute.”
Allura doesn’t seem convinced.
“Keith,” she says tenderly, placing a gentle hand on his arm, “You’re not well, and we cannot simply standby and allow your condition to worsen. Do you understand?”
Several moments pass, punctuated only by Keith’s erratic breath, until finally, he speaks.
“But… I… don’t…” Keith struggles through each word, “You guys… you… were… having... so… much… fun… and…” He can’t even finish his sentence. His lungs are on fire and, despite his efforts to breathe steadily, he finds himself going into a coughing fit that steals so much of his breath, he thinks he might pass out again even with his head still resting between his knees.
“Calm down,” he tells himself, “Breathe.”
Eventually the coughing fit dissipates, but it takes so much out of him that he begins swaying again.
“I think he needs to lie down.” Allura suggests anxiously.
Lance takes off his suit jacket and balls it into a pillow, while Hunk lays his on the ground. Shiro helps Keith lie back, then covers him again with his own jacket. He then gently rolls Keith onto his side, just in case his stomach starts to act up again.
“I’ll hail the castle,” Allura remarks as she begins dutifully punching coordinates into a bracelet-like device around her wrist. It makes a quiet beeping noise and Allura looks up to meet the gazes of the rest of the Paladins, “It should be here in about 10 doboshes,” she states.
“Hnnn,” Keith stirs slightly, glossy eyes half-opening.
“Sh’ro?” Keith rasps.
“Hey, bud.” Shiro replies softly.
“M’sorry…” Keith mumbles.
“Hey, none of that,” Shiro says gently, running a comforting hand through Keith’s hair, “You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?”
“Mmmm,” Keith hums, barely coherent.
“Just get some rest, alright?” Shiro says tenderly, and Keith’s unconscious again before Shiro even finishes speaking.
Shiro lets out a sigh of relief. At the very least, Keith seems to be a bit more comfortable now than he was earlier.
“Okay,” Pidge says calmly, turning to Shiro, “While we’re waiting for the castle, could you... tell us what happened?”
Shiro pauses for a moment, then takes a deep, shuddering breath. “He… he looked a little off earlier when I talked to him. I knew something was wrong, but he said he just needed some air. I came out to check on him and he was… pale. Really pale... Then he suddenly collapsed. When he finally came to, he started vomiting and now…” They all look over at Keith’s form, shaking underneath Shiro’s jacket.
“Is he ill?” Allura asks, placing a hand on Keith’s forehead.
“I… I don’t know. He was burning up earlier, but now he’s freezing…” Shiro explains.
“I take it this is abnormal as far as Earth illnesses go.” Allura muses. “What did he consume tonight?” she asks, looking up at Shiro.
“I don’t…” Shiro pauses for a moment, flashing back to the conversation he’d had with Keith earlier.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Just one glass of some weird gold stuff… kinda like champagne…”
“He said it was a gold liquid… kinda like champagne.” Shiro answers.
“Well, I’m not familiar with champagne,” Allura explains, “but there’s only one golden liquid I know of and that’s Lemark… it’s fairly mild, though. It shouldn’t be having this effect on him…” She turns towards Lance, “Lance, please go get Coran. The castle will be arriving shortly, and Keith will be requiring medical attention. This is definitely more serious than slight overindulgence.”
“On it,” Lance affirms as he turns to run back into the banquet hall.
Suddenly, Keith stirs again, eyes fluttering open slightly.
“Shi… Sh’ro…” he slurs.
“What is it, bud? What’s wrong?” Shiro leans closer.
“Hurts…” Keith breathes.
“What hurts, bud?”
“E… everyth’ng…” Keith rasps. Then suddenly he’s curling in on himself as his body is wracked with another harsh coughing fit.
Hunk and Shiro move to help him sit up and hold him steady. His breath hitches with each cough, and by the time he’s finished, he’s wheezing, desperately trying to get air back into his lungs.
“Okay,” Shiro tries to sound reassuring, “Okay. You’re okay.” He runs a comforting hand up and down Keith’s back. “Do you want to lie back do-” Shiro’s breath catches in his throat as he notices a small trickle of blood flowing out of Keith’s mouth.
“Keith…” Shiro breathes out in shock.
Keith gives him one last desperate look before passing out again.
Vaguely, Shiro hears Lance and Coran running over, but his mind is too busy traveling to another place to really process anything.
He’s there. The Champion - back in that ring. Crowd cheering wildly. He delivers the finishing blow, then watches as his opponent falls at his feet in slow motion. Thud. The sound echoes, then everything goes silent as he observes the unmoving body, sprawled out in front of him, crimson blood oozing from the mouth…
“...iro… hiro… Shiro!”
He snaps back to reality at the sound of Lance’s voice.
“You okay?” Lance asks, concerned.
“I… yeah… I’m fine,” he swallows, takes a deep breath, tries to pull himself together. “Keith, he… b… blood…” he exhales shakily.
“Coran’s taking care of it,” Lance reassures him, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder.
Shiro slowly turns to look over at Coran, who’s kneeled down in front of Keith with some type of scanner. He moves it steadily over Keith’s body, watching intently. The other Paladins are tense, unmoving - anxious to get a diagnosis.
Abruptly, the scanner begins to beep, and Shiro doesn’t miss the drop in Coran’s expression.
“What is it?” Shiro asks frantically, “What’s wrong with him?”
What if Keith never got sick on Earth bc of his Galra genes?
So! He has no idea what it’s like! And in his younger years he was mad bc he never got to miss school, but growing up (specially when he went to live by himself on the desert) he started to appreciate this fact.
It isn’t until a while after they end up in space that he learns he is not entirely human, but it takes even longer (and one night chatting about everything with Pidge) that he (well, Pidge really, but whatever) connects the dots.
So, now he is in space. Quite close to a whole lot of Galras. And is because of this that, after a mission on an Empire ship, he ends up getting some kind of space flu.
It’s not so bad; a couple of coughs here and there, a stuffy nose, and some slight fever at night. But we’re talking about a man that has never been sick in his life!
What I’m actually thinking about is Keith, slightly feverish, telling the team something like “You know that feeling when you want to poop? It feels like that but in my nose!”.
“How long have you been throwing up for?” -- Sheith, w/ whumpee Keith and comforter Shiro. ^w^' As much as I love your stories with whumpee Shiro, I kinda wanna see you make Keith suffer for a change! :D If that's alright with you, of course!
Thanks so much for the request! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you like the result :) about 2k! (And I legitimately cannot find the ask meme this was referring to oof)
(in case the ask itself didn’t give it away) WARNING: EMETO AHEAD
Keith clutched the edges of the toilet bowl, the image swimming in and out of focus. Ugh, he hated throwing up. He hiccuped wetly, groaning at the taste of the combined burn of stomach acid and alcohol, but nothing more came up.
He’d been in the bathroom on the Atlas for at least thirty minutes while the party outside was still in full swing, and no one had come by to check in on him. Part of him was glad for it; it wouldn’t do to have anyone see him, the indomitable Black Paladin of Voltron, in such a pitiful state. On the other hand, it made him wonder how important to the party he was if he was so easily missed.
Everyone was celebrating their latest victory in bringing in another faction to the Voltron Coalition. Keith wasn’t sure where, exactly, the alcohol had come from—he doubted it was approved to bring on such a long mission—but no one was complaining.
Keith hadn’t meant to get so disgustingly drunk. At the very least, he hadn’t meant to get so drunk he would puke his guts up. But he could only stand watching Shiro get hit on by that bridge officer for so long.
It was hard to ignore, though. As Captain of the Atlas, Shiro was never hard to spot, surrounded by a new group of people everytime Keith looked over at him. And yet, that damn asshole was right by his side the entire time: handing Shiro drinks, making Shiro throw his head back in laughter, running a hand up Shiro’s arm and smiling at him—
Keith retched again, this time only bringing up a thin string of bile. Fuck, his stomach hurt. He coughed the rest of it up, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. The more he’d seen Shiro and Lieutenant Asshole flirt with each other, the more quickly he’d downed whatever drink was handed to him. In hindsight, that was probably the worst idea possible—God knows what kind of mix of booze he’d had. But at the time, he wanted to get as drunk as possible so he could forget all about the scene playing out in front of him.
Even though he was definitely running on empty at this point, Keith felt his stomach clench yet again, and he couldn’t help but groan. The alcohol was still swirling in his head, making things foggy and hard to focus on. And even after all that effort, he still couldn’t burn out the way that douchebag’s hand had caressed Shiro’s arm.
A knock on the bathroom door jolted him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he looked over his shoulder in a panic. Oh god, what if it was Lance, or Hunk, or Iverson—
The doorswung open easily—because of course Drunk Keith doesn’t know how to lock a damn door—and who else would it be but Shiro, looking devastatingly handsome even under the ugly fluorescent lights of the bathroom. His hair was slicked back—something Keith has only seen a handful of times—and the cut of his dress uniform highlighted all the best parts of his body. In his metal hand was a glass of water.
“Hey buddy,” Shiro said softly, slowing approaching Keith’s crouched form. “How are you doing?”
Keith blew out a breath, slumping back against the toilet, looking up at Shiro. “M'good. How—how’re you?”
Shiro frowned, kneeling down in front of him, cupping his flesh hand to Keith’s face. Keith’s eyes widened. His hand was so warm. “How much have you had to drink? I haven’t seen you in a while. We were getting worried.”
Keith barked out a harsh laugh. “We?” he repeated, the single word laced with venom. He was imagining Shiro and Lieutenant Douchebag looking for him together, like they were his goddamn parents or something. It was almost enough to make him throw up again.
Shiro, however, just frowned again at his tone. “Yeah. Hunk kept asking me where you were. Pidge noticed you went to the bathroom a while ago, and I had to physically hold Lance back at least three times from barging in here to ‘save you from drowning in your own vomit’”. Shiro shook his head in fond exasperation. “I figured you wouldn’t want them in here if you were….well, you know.”
Oh. The team had been looking for him after all. And even after everything, Shiro kept Keith’s privacy as his main concern. It only added to the weird mix of emotions he’d been feeling all night.
Shiro handed Keith the glass of water. “Drink,” he ordered.
Keith looked at the glass like it was toxic. The last thing he wanted to do was put anything into his protesting stomach, but the look Shiro was giving him was full of tender concern. It might have been easier to say no if Shiro didn’t look so damn good in his dress uniform.
Grimacing, Keith took the glass and knocked it back like it was one of the many shots he had done that night.
Shiro sighed. “Better than nothing, I guess…”
“What’d you want, anyway?” Keith slurred, the glass falling out of his hand. Shiro managed to catch it before it shattered on the floor, placing it near the sink.“You’ve been so busy, haven’t ya? Why’re you here?”
Shiro frowned. “What are you talking about? I came to check up on you.”
Keith scoffed, blinking against the black spots in his vision. “Finally managed to tear yourself away from your new friend, then?”
Shiro blinked in surprise, taken aback. “What? Keith, I—”
“You know what I mean,” Keith snapped, the alcohol in his system removing his filter completely. “I’ve seen you with him all fucking night. Tall, dark and—” The rest of Keith’s sentence was cut off by a guttural retch, so strong it bent him over double. Shiro cursed, scrambling to turn Keith toward the toilet in time for him to vomit up the water.
Rubbing small circles on Keith’s back, Shiro seemed to finally notice the mess in the toilet. “Geez, Keith. How long have you been throwing up for?” He really did sound concerned now. Keith just grumbled in response before he was cut off again by another violent heave. He felt a hand run through his hair, keeping it out of his face while Keith tried to vomit up his stomach lining.
Finally, it stopped, and Keith fell boneless into Shiro’s arms. Shiro wrapped them around him gently, holding him in place.
“You’re ok, I got you,” Shiro murmured soothingly into Keith’s ear.
For a moment, Keith allowed his eyes to close, reveling in the feeling of his back pressed against Shiro’s broad chest. But then his eyes flew open, and he twisted out of Shiro’s grasp, the hurt from earlier making its return.
Shiro sighed again, dropping his arms. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset with me,” he said sadly, looking away.
Guilt twisted in Keith’s stomach, making it even more unsteady. “It's—it’s not you. It’s him. He’s been with you all night, and you haven’t even come by to say hi to me. You’re too busy flirting with him.”
Keith knew how he sounded—like a petulant child—but he didn’t care. Not right now.
It seemed to click in Shiro’s head, and his eyes widened. “What—Curtis? Is that what you meant? He’s just being friendly. He’s part of the Atlas’s bridge crew, he’s just celebrating with us.”
“He’s been touching you all night!” Keith yelled, coughing harshly as it aggravated his raw throat. Shiro reached over to steady him, but Keith knocked his hand away. Tears were building in his eyes, he realized with a wave of humiliation. Hopefully Shiro would blame it on the alcohol. “You’ve been by his side the entire time! What was I supposedto think?!”
“Oh, Keith…” Shiro put both hands on either side of Keith’s face, gently tugging him over so their eyes met. “I’m sorry I didn’t come say anything. But to tell you the truth…I was avoiding you.”
Keith bit his lip, trying to turn away so Shiro wouldn’t see the hurt in his eyes, but Shiro kept him firmly in place. “But not for the reason you think. I swear, Curtis is just a colleague. I barely know him. Besides…” Shiro wrinkled his nose. "Fraternizing with a member of my crew would be incredibly unprofessional.“
“Then why?” Keith asked, voice cracking. He tried to pretend it was from all the vomiting he’d done that night.
This time it was Shiro’s turn to look away. “I…I didn’t want to burden you.”
Keith’seyes went wide. “What?”
“You’ve been so busy with the Blade and Voltron…I didn’t want to add to your responsibilities. I thought if I got too close to you tonight, people would see you as someone responsible for the Atlas too. And you have so much on your shoulders already….I didn’t want to do that to you. I couldn’t.”
Keith put his hands over Shiro’s, where they still cupped Keith’s face. “Shiro,” he said slowly. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Shiro blinked, shocked.
Keith could only chuckle at this expression, despite the fresh wave of nausea rolling through him. “You’re such a dumbass sometimes, you know that?” He chuckled, squeezing Shiro’s hands. “After all this time, you really think anyone can force me to do anything?”
Shiro smiled softly.
“Besides,” Keith continued, voice going quiet, “I don’t mind taking on some work for the Atlas….if it means I can do it with you.”
Shirolooked away, cheeks bright red. “Oh,” he muttered. “Well…..I mean, I guess that…makes sense?”
Keith smiled, the hard knot in his chest finally unraveling. Unfortunately, it also unraveled his stomach. He quickly shook off Shiro’s hands and made a mad dash for the toilet. He didn’t quite make it to the bowl itself, however, and the remnants of the alcohol and water splashed against the side of the toilet.
A metal hand was on his back as he coughed. “Where is it all coming from?” Shiro murmured, worry and amusement mixing in his voice.
He hooked his arms under Keith’s, hauling him up as gently as he could, pulling him away from the mess on the floor. Keith grumbled a weak protest, head lolling back to rest on Shiro’s shoulders. Shiro chuckled softly, his breath warm against Keith’s ear. It felt right.
“Let’s get you to bed, alright?”
“Will you come with me?” Keith blurted out, feeling dizzy and lightheaded.
Suddenly, he was lifted off the ground, and he clutched at Shiro’s fancy jacket as the world spun. A soft kiss was pressed to the top of his head. “Is that what you want?”
Keith nodded, pressing his face into Shiro’s chest. This was where he was meant to be. “Please don’t…leave me again,” Keith hiccuped, fading fast.
