This is a project I've been working on in the past couple of weeks. I'm not done yet - I still have one more one-shot to write, but writing has been a bit hard lately and I found myself struggling with it a lot, so I decided to start posting the chapters I already have and maybe reading some other people's feedback will get me inspired again. I don't usually do that - I don't like posting unfinished works; but I felt like I should give it a try, because I really can't think of another way to deal with this annoying writer's block.

Anyway, as you've already read in the summary, this is a series of Lance sickfics. All the chapters (six in total, hopefully) will be gen, as I do not write ships in this fandom; and most of them will be on the fluffy/humorous side and not very angsty (I haven't been in the mood for heavy angst lately). There may be some possible triggers, but I'll note them at the beginning of each chapter.

So, without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter, featuring caretaker Hunk! This one is short and sweet, but the next chapters will be longer, I promise. Also, this chapter contains some descriptions of vomiting, if that disturbs you in any way.

-X-

Hunk walked down the castle's hallway with a satisfied hum. Team Voltron's visit to planet Thlakia today has been a great success. The people of Thlakia were friendly and kind and very enthusiastic about joining the Coalition, and most importantly, the visit ended with a huge, extravagant feast – always the best way to wrap up a diplomatic mission, if you asked the yellow paladin. There were so many types of desserts Hunk simply could not eat them all at once (he truly wanted to, but halfway through his fifth one his stomach started to voice its protest, and he knew from experience this could only mean he had to stop right now before things would get messy, and not in a good way). So he ended up stuffing everything he hadn't managed to eat into his pockets, saving it for later. He knew some cultures would see this as an extremely rude act, but the Thlakians looked rather flattered, so it all really worked out for the best.

With his belly full and his bones aching from exhaustion - a nice, relaxing kind of ache, one that could lull him to sleep in no time – Hunk was more than ready to plop onto his bed and dive into a well-deserved night sleep.

He was just about to make the obligatory before-bedtime stop at the bathroom when he heard a terrible retching sound from inside.

Hunk's own stomach flipped at the sound. Without thinking twice he burst into the bathroom, eyes searching the room frantically. His gaze fell upon a familiar lithe figure that was curled around one of the toilets, clutching it with both hands as if his life depended on it.

"Lance?" Hunk called and quickly ran to kneel beside his friend. Lance was strikingly pale and covered in sweat, his face contorted as if he was in excruciating pain.

"H-h-hu – " he managed to blurt out before his face disappeared again down the toilet, hacking up more of whatever his bowels were trying to expel.

"Oh my gosh," was all Hunk could say. What the hell was happening? They got back to the castle barely a varga ago and Lance had been completely fine then. "Dude, what happened? Are you sick or what?"

"Maybe," Lance said with effort, fingers trembling as they tightened around the white Altean china. "Feels like I'm dying."

"You're not dying," Hunk scolded, even though his heart was already racing. "It's probably just food poisoning. Although I can't think of anything that could've caused it… I mean, you ate everything we ate at the feast, and we're all fine." Or, at least he hoped so; maybe there was something in the food that was bad for humans, and the only reason Hunk hadn't felt it yet was because he weighed about as twice as Lance – not to mention his even smaller teammates, like Keith or Pidge – and thus his digestive process was slower. Hunk's gut twisted at the thought, and suddenly he felt like shoving his own head into the nearby toilet. Not now, you idiot. You've got to help Lance first.

Lance shrugged weakly. Even this small movement nearly sent him off balance and he leaned his forehead against the cool toilet rim, inhaling deeply. "'s probably those stupid… m-mud cakes…"

"Mud cakes?" Hunk wrinkled his forehead. He didn't recall there were any mud cakes at the feast – and that was not something he would forget so easily.

Lance waved one hand impatiently. "Y'know, that grey stuff… Imera gave us…"

"What grey stuff – oh." Hunk's shoulders dropped as he realized what Lance was talking about. Imera, The Thlakian princess, was the youngest daughter of the planet's rulers. Barely a toddler, she was quite a lively spirit, to put it gently; Hunk was usually delighted whenever they got to interact with alien children (as long as he didn't have to stay alone with them, because playing babysitter was making him very anxious), but even he grew weary from hoisting her on his broad shoulders and running around the palace for the tenth time.

When the feast finally began they all assumed the princess had gone to sit with her parents. But shortly after the second course was served she popped up at the paladins' table, holding a tray with five suspicious-looking grey lumps that smelled like a mixture of motor oil and wet socks, her eyes sparkling and her mouth drawn in a toothy grin.

"I made you all desserts!" she exclaimed. "My special recipe!"

"I thought we were going to get dessert only after the last course," Pidge said and leaned back carefully in her chair, barely able to hide her disgust.

"No! You will eat my desserts now!" Imera insisted. "It's mud cakes! They'll make you strong and healthy so you can go and defeat the bad guys!" she raised the tray high above her head, standing on the tips of her toes. The stench was so powerful it brought tears to Hunk's eyes.

"Well, I think we can allow ourselves one small bite," Shiro said kindly and picked up one of the "cakes". It made a sickening squelching sound as it peeled off the tray. Shiro quirked his eyebrows at the other paladins. "I said, we can allow ourselves."

They all hurried to pick up their own cakes, each of them taking the tiniest of bites. The second the foul stuff touched Hunk's lips he knew there was no way in the universe he was going to swallow it, so he carefully pushed it with his tongue to the space between his teeth and palate, determined to hold it there until Imera was gone and he could spit it out and wash his mouth.

"Delicious," he said chokingly, breathing slowly through his nose. "My compliments to the chef."

The others could only murmur in agreement, clearly having the same struggle against their own bodies. Only Lance clapped his hands and called, "Wow, this the best dessert I ever ate! I mean, I've already learned today that the princess of Thlakia was both smart and beautiful, but I didn't know she was such an amazing cook, too!"

Imera went completely orange in the face – apparently this was the Thlakian version of blushing – and her grin grew wider, if that was even possible. "Really?" she asked.

"A-ha," Lance nodded and took another bite theatrically, humming in delight as he chewed on it. Hunk adored him more than anything in the universe at the moment. "Girl, you've got to give me the recipe."

Imera shrieked in laughter. "But it's a secret!"

Lance put up a devastated expression. "Then I guess I'll just have to savor this one."

"No! I'll go make you some more!" Imera called and ran at the opposite direction. The second she disappeared from view the paladins released a collective sigh of relief, gagging and sputtering and wiping their mouths with the tablecloth.

"Lance," Hunk said now, frowning at his friend as a new suspicion creeped into his mind. "How many of these mud cakes did Imera make you, exactly?"

Lance shuddered at the memory. "Um… six, if I remember correctly."

"And how many did you actually eat?"

Lance released a miserable whine and curled even tighter into himself. "Six…"

"What?" Hunk screeched, staring at Lance in disbelief. "Dude, you've got to be kidding me!That stuff was clearly inedible! I felt like throwing up just from this one tiny bite! I mean, I know we should respect the planet's customs and all but no one expects you to eat garbage! And six cakes made from this garbage, no less!"

Lance's lower lip wobbled. "I'm sorry," he said, swallowing back a sob. Quiznak, he was a mess.

"Hey, you don't need to apologize to me."

"I just wanted to make her happy," Lance sighed and closed his eyes as he tried to fight another wave of nausea. "She only wanted to play."

Hunk smiled in spite of himself. It was so Lance to go and practically poison himself just to put a smile on some kid's face. Lance had always had a soft spot for children; it was understandable, considering he grew up in such a huge family, with dozens of cousins and nephews and nieces. He would spend hours telling Hunk hilarious stories about all the times he watched his younger siblings.

He would also spend hours staring at their photos on his phone, eyes full of yearning. Sometimes he would wipe them when he thought nobody was looking.

Hunk's expression softened. "Hey, for what it's worth, I bet you made Imera really happy," he said kindly. "Seriously. I saw how she just beamed all evening."

Lance tried to smile at that, but a violent gag wrecked his body all of a sudden, and once again he lowered his head into the toilet. However, at this point he had absolutely nothing left to expel, so all he managed was a series of dry, choked heaves. Hunk rubbed his back gently.

"Sorry you have to see me like that," Lance croaked eventually, looking even paler than before. "I'm pretty gross right now."

Hunk shrugged. "Well, you've seen me throw up countless times, so I think we're even."

"So… you're not mad?" Lance asked hesitantly.

Hunk threw his head backwards and laughed. "Why on Earth will I be mad at you? It's not like you're throwing up my food. No, if that happened I would've kicked your ass all the way to Blue's hangar."

Lance finally smiled, albeit weakly. "I'll never throw up your food, man." He grimaced. "Although I can't really think of any food right now…" his palm went down to rest on his aching belly.

Hunk frowned. "We need to get you checked up. Who knows what the princess had put in those cakes; we need to make sure it's really just food poisoning and not something more severe."

Lance chuckled – or at least tried to, as it came out more like a dry cough. "The Blue Paladin of Voltron, Defender of the Universe, survived a hundred battles with the Galra only to find his death in a mud cake," he wheezed. "That's the way to go."

Hunk snorted. "Would you stop talking nonsense and come to the infirmary already? I'll call Coran."

In the end it turned out that Lance did have a pretty nasty food poisoning, although it was nothing too dangerous, thank god. Coran made him drink some Nunvil – Hunk could only watch and grimace in sympathy as Lance struggled to swallow the whole thing – but apparently the hideous concoction was very effective in soothing irritable stomachs, as only a few dobashes later the blue paladin passed out on the infirmary's bed, his face exhausted but relaxed. Coran smiled fondly at the sight and promised Hunk he would be back to himself by morning; still, he insisted Lance would spend the night at the infirmary, where he could hook him up to an IV full of much needed fluids. He asked Hunk if he could stay and watch him during that time, and the yellow paladin happily accepted the task.

As he watched his friend sleep peacefully, occasionally munching one of his remaining desserts, Hunk made a note to himself to bake Lance a huge cake once his stomach was healed - one that was not poisonous, of course. They could all eat it together while exchanging stories about their families; Lance would surely love that.

-X-

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