Work Text:
As soon as Lance woke up, he knew he wasn’t going to have a good day. It took him three tries to get out of bed, not being able to balance on his shaky feet, head cartwheeling, stomach twisting painfully. Keith was already gone, which he was glad for, as he knew he would only have made a big deal of things. Lance got sick— so what? As a paladin of Voltron, he had duties to perform, and Haggar wouldn’t stop trying to take over the universe just because Lance wasn’t feeling well. He does, however, have enough sense to notify Keith, just so he knows he’s not very useful in case anything important comes up.
He tells Keith straight off the bat, “Hey man, I’m feeling a little under the weather today so I might not be as tip-top as I usually am. No need to worry, just thought I’d let you know.” And Keith, being the lovely leader of not only Voltron, but most of the people on the Atlas (being the black paladin as well as Shiro’s brother sure has its perks), makes sure that everyone around him pays extra attention while he’s doing his duties. He could feel Curtiss watching him like a hawk the whole time he was helping reload the MFE fighter planes with ammo. Bianca carried extra mechanical parts to the engineer room while Lance trailed behind, picking up pieces she dropped. Hunk and Pidge cleaned Lance’s lion for him, and when he insisted he could help, they gave him paperwork from the last mission. Fun.
Keith let him know that if he felt like he can’t continue, for any reason at all, that he had his full permission to take a rest day.
“Don’t push yourself,” he told Lance sternly yet affectionately in that odd way he always speaks. “And that’s an order.”
Lance scrunched his dripping nose up at that and replied, “You’re my boyfriend, you don’t get to order me around.”
“Technically, I do,” he flashed the shiny golden lion badge on his left jacket shoulder. The leader’s badge. Lance rolled his eyes.
Later, after Red had been shined and polished and inspected for damage, Hunk and Pidge suggested they do a simulation run, to test out the new breaks they just added. Lance agreed, but found himself regretting the decision almost immediately. The motion of Red dipping and diving made him nauseas, his nose was plugged, and something awful stabbed at his temples. As he twisted and twirled through the simulation, avoiding cliffs and racing through meteor fields, he felt his vision tilt on him like he was falling backwards in a chair, or he was riding upside down on a loop de loop. He stumbled out of the cockpit feeling worse for the wear.
“I think I’m gonna take Keith up on that offer to rest,” he told his teammates, wrapping his arms around his middle to ward off the sudden onslaught of chills.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Hunk agreed. “Need help getting back to your room?”
Lance waved off his best friend, insisted he’d make it back okay, and dragged his feet all the way to the complex he and Keith shared. His head was swimming and he was shaking and sweating and his legs felt like they would give out on him at second, so he leaned against the wall for support. When he arrived, he promptly curled himself up in a ball on top of the sheets, too weak to take off his uniform, and fell asleep.
He didn’t know how long he was out for, but the next time he woke up, it was to the sound of the door opening and softly clicking closed. Footsteps made their way over to the bed and he felt a hand on his forehead, taking his temperature. Keith let out a quiet sigh and cupped his face, stroking his cheek affectionately with his thumb before moving away. Lance kept his eyes closed, half asleep still and not wanting to move in case the terrible aches and pains made themselves known again. He was glad Keith was here now, because he knew he could make things better. The longer he was awake, though, the more he realized just how big of a mistake he made by falling asleep without taking off his uniform or even getting under the covers. He was freezing, exhausted, in pain, and all he wanted to do his get his miserable ass under the covers and fall back asleep.
Lance heard something unbutton, then a weight was draped over him. Keith’s uniform jacket, he realized when he smelled the metal and the soap and the scent that could only be described as Keith. He could feel the golden lion badge against his cheek. Keith’s jacket had the same satin interior as his own, and he was grateful for the added layer.
He was aware that Keith had moved away when he heard drawers from across the room opening and closing, clothes dropping to the floor and being pulled over Keith’s head. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, looked through the medicine cabinet and came back with a glass of water, a thermometer, and some pills which he set on the bedside table for when Lance woke up. Then, he carefully pulled off Lance’s boots, one at a time, so that he didn’t disturb the resting boy. Lance didn’t think he could lift his head without the headache and the nausea slamming back into him like a truck, so he let Keith do it, despite the fact that he very well could have done it himself to save his dignity. Oh well.
Keith moved back up and unbuttoned Lance’s uniform jacket, started to shift it off his shoulders, and at this point Lance decided to wake up and help him out. So he blinked the bleariness out of his eyes, sat up with an unintentional whine as his vision took a dive for the deep end and his stomach dropped in the same direction, and sloppily shrugged his jacket off with the help of Keith, who took it and folded it next to his own on the desk. Lance kicked his pants off and crawled under the covers that Keith was holding back for him. He tugged the blankets around his shivering form, hating the way his body felt heavy and weak and gross and cold.
“Here,” Keith held the pills out to him. “For the pain.”
Lance’s hands shook as he sipped the water and swallowed the pills, then handed it back to Keith.
“You up for any food?” He asked, softly running his hand through Lance’s hair in a comforting action as he settled back into bed. Lance shook his head. “Tea?”
“No thanks.”
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“No.”
“It might make you feel better.”
“Just c’mere,” Lance whined and his face morphed into a pathetic pout. He wanted Keith, who looked nice and warm and devastatingly handsome, to get into bed and warm him up and make make him feel better. So Keith got in beside Lance, who immediately shifted himself on top of Keith, fitting himself between his legs and resting his cheek against his chest, head just under his chin.
He sighed contently. Keith was warm, and although he couldn’t do anything to fight off the virus inside of him, the strength of his body beneath him made him feel safe, protected, especially when he wrapped his arms around Lance and held him close. Lance nuzzled against Keith, nose brushing against his collar bone, curled up like a baby in Keith’s embrace. He was too sick to give damn whether it made him look stupid. Keith flicked off the lamp and blanketed the room in darkness, kissed the top of Lance’s head, and rubbed his palms up and down Lance’s back.
“Feel better,” he mumbled softly. “Love you.”