Lance knew he was screwed when he woke up.
His head pounded, even with the soft, usually gentle light of his room on the castle ship. He could barely breathe through his nose, and what had been a light scratch in his throat was now an uncomfortable ache.
In short, Lance was sick. That, to begin with, is never ideal, much less when you're on a constant lookout for an attacking alien ship, or pressing distress call. And even less when the boy you've been pining over for much longer than a phoeb. Several, maybe, but who's counting?
Lance groans, squeezing his eyes shut for another few seconds. Maybe if I fall asleep again for long enough, I'll wake up feeling better - it's not impossible, right?
But both common sense, as well as the fact that with the headache he had, there was no chance he was getting back to sleep without a large dose of either pain or sleep medication told him that this plan wasn't going to work.
Resigning to his fate, Lance forces himself to get up. He rolls over on his bed, sits, and stands in a less than graceful motion.
Almost instantly, he regrets it. The blood rushes through his head, and the room around him seems wobbly. Lance staggers back a step, leaning against his bed for support.
After a few moments past, he was able to walk without being dizzy. Hopefully, Lance thought, when I get something to eat I'll feel a bit better.
When Lance arrived for breakfast, he was the last to sit down. That in itself wasn't terribly out of place, but he knew he still looked tired, his hair wasn't fixed, and his face lacked the usual glow his skincare routine would normally provide.
"Lance, you look like you slept less than me!" Pidge was the first one to notice, a bit of a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she finished, "And I didn't sleep at all!"
"Aw, come on Pidge," said Lance, "Not everyone can manage to not look like a zombie when they don't get their full beauty rest!" Pidge opened her mouth, about to retort, when Hunk cut in.
"I bet Lance was just restless because he's excited to see Keith, isn't that right Lance?" Hunk had a knowing smile, and Lance elbowed him. Even though Hunk was off about why he looked like he'd been hit by a truck, he wasn't wrong about looking forward to seeing Keith.
I mean, of course he was! Keith was barely around anymore, and he knew the whole team missed him (even if Lance knew there might have been something a little more gay about it for him).
Either way, the teasing tag team of Hunk and Pidge did nothing to help his headache, which had settled into a consistent, dull pain.
Shiro shot him a sympathetic look. " I'm sorry if you haven't been sleeping well, Lance."
He felt a twinge of guilt seeing Shiro's genuine care. He didn't want to lie, not really, and he had planned to let his team know that he was feeling under the weather but...
Keith was coming today, and there was a happy buzz in the air that Lance didn't want to ruin.
And they did make it pretty easy for him...
Lance shrugs. "It's no biggie, I might be a little tired, but I'll just get even better sleep tomorrow night!" Lance flashes a smile. "And then you'll be back to seeing my usual, dashingly handsome self!" The last part earned him a mixed response of laughs and groans, so overall, Lance would call it a success.
And besides, he wasn't going to let this little cold get the best of his day, nope, not today.
A few hours later, Keith arrived. The first few minutes were filled with excited group hugs (they always seemed to surprise Keith, even though he would receive them every time he came back to visit. Lance thought it was cute), and curious questions.
Usually, Lance would be spearheading the excitement, but he had severely overestimated his ability to force himself to not feel sick.
His head ached, and no matter how excited he would normally be, he really wanted to just lay down, back in his bed and sleep. He was shivering now too, making his brain a bit sluggish.
"Keith, I'm glad you're back in one piece, but also I have this really cool upgrade I'm working on for the green lion. Check it out late if you want," Pidge offers. Lance realizes this is his chance to trickle away and get some rest before some team activity, or dinner, at least.
"Same here, man," Lance said, hoping not to sound as stuffed up as he felt. He sees no suspicious glances, so for now, he was safe. "I have a face mask calling my name!"
"Yeah, see you later, then?" Keith meets his eyes, and Lance shivers. He really is cold, he thinks.
"'Course! Couldn't get rid of me for that long even if you tried, mullet!" Lance forces his usual energy into his voice, but even that effort is getting to be exhausting. His head hurts, he's cold, and he just wants to sleep.
That thought repeats in his head as he walks back to his room. he knows he wants to sleep, but he's cold, and his muscles are sore, although he remembers he didn't train particularly hard yesterday, still feeling a bit out of it.
I'll just take a shower, first, then maybe I'll get a nap, Lance decided.
The hot water is comforting, but hearing it pound against the walls of the shower continues to pierce his head. If this dumb headache could just go away, maybe this whole thing would be a bit more manageable, but it was showing no signs of stopping.
In the end, Lance left the shower feeling more miserable than before, and now with dripping wet hair, which he rubbed half-heartedly with a towel even as he was re-dressed.
He was knocked out of his pitying thoughts by a knock on his door.
"Hey, Lance?" Shit, it was Keith. His hesitant voice could be heard clearly through the door. "Could you help me out with something?"
There was no way Lance could say no to that voice... shakily, he stood, already tired again after rested. At this point, Lance figures that laying down and sleeping would be enough to tire him out.
"Course! Anytime," Lance replies, opening the door. "Whatcha in need of today?" Lance musters up as charming of a smile as he can. Keith looks down.
"Well, I've been trying to get better at long distance fighting, in the practice range and... I thought you could give me some pointers on how to improve."
Lance was flabbergasted, shocked. Keith? Asking him for training advice? His crush, Keith, one of the best - scratch that, the best fighter he knew, asking him. For pointers. Lance nearly short-circuited, but Keith's expression kept him focused. he was being genuine, and Lance couldn't pass that up, even if he was feeling worse and worse by the dobosh.
"Well, they don't call me sharp-shooter for nothing!" Lance laughed weakly. "Show me what you've got, mullet man. But only if you grab me some pain meds on the way - my head's been killing me," he admits honestly. He wanted to at least be able to pay attention without his head distracting him.
Keith shook his head. " I'm telling you, it's not a mullet, but sure. Shiro said something about you not sleeping the best," Keith shrugs, figuring that must be the reason for Lance's current reclusiveness as well as the request.
The two of them kept up with light banter on their way to the training deck, Keith cutting off of the course to grab a bottle of pain medication, tossing a pill to Lance. Lance was struggling to pay attention and to respond the right way, but he was determined to help Keith.
He had to be of some use, at the least, if he wasn't able to do anything else today.
"So, how do you want to do this?" asks Keith. Lance looked around, mildly surprised to realize that they had already arrived. Processing Keith's question took a moment or so, and figuring out an answer even a bit longer.
"Uh... you want to just get something and practice from further back? Like if you were usually training for this kind of thing? Then I can see if you have any bad habits," suggests Lance. Keith nods, and they begin.
Lance tries his best to watch Keith go through the level, he really does. But somewhere in between his pounding headache, noticing Keith's eyes looking at the wrong spot, and the encroaching feeling of exhaustion, Lance spaces out. It's really all he can do to not fall asleep, sitting down and watching Keith like this.
At this point, his shivering is only doing so much to keep him attentive and aware. The next thing he knows, Keith is looking at him expectantly. Did he say something?
"I'm sorry... what?" Lance asks.
Keith huffs. "I said, did you notice anything?" Keith's voice is sharp, how it usually is when he's frustrated or stressed. Or angry. Keith can be those things a lot, Lance observes.
Lance tries to grasp ask what he noticed, but its proving harder that one might think.
"Lance," Keith says, voice tart with impatience.
"Yeah, um... sometimes you looked wrong?" Lance knew the wording was anything but helpful, but his brain was too foggy to think past that, and even hearing his own voice set his head pounding even harder. The pill Lance took obviously hadn't kicked in yet.
"Is... that it?" Keith sounded almost offended,
God, Lance just wanted to sleep. Why did Keith want him to do this now of all times? Why couldn't he just be around to do it tomorrow, or next week, or whenever Lance wasn't feeling like complete shit?
Lance managed a shrug, and a quiet "sorry," that seemed to do little to help anything.
"Lance, you talk all the damn time about being the sharpshooter of Voltron, and all you're gonna say is I don't look right? I mean what's that even supposed to mean?!"
"Sorry, I-" Lance tried to interject, but Keith didn't stop.
"No, really, Lance, I've just got back and you can't even take this seriously?! At least the Blade realizes we're in a war, so this stuff is important!" Keith is yelling now, and it's too much.
All of this is too much, Keith's anger, his head, the cold, Lance just wanted to sleep for goodness sake, but instead, he's ruining Keith's visit.
He can't help the tears that start to leak from his eyes as Keith continues. He doesn't understand, what he did wrong or much of anything. Actually, he realizes he must have a pretty bad fever, which is why he feels like such crap.
Suddenly, he feels a cool hand on his face. He opens his eyes and meets Keith's, wide with concern and fear.
"Shit, uh, I didn't mean... I didn't want to make you, you know, cry..." his voice is wavering, unsure what to do in the situation at hand. Lance sniffles.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mess up..."
Keith's brows furrow, fear replaced by even more concern. "You're really burning up... are you?" He paused. "Oh shit, Lance, you're sick. quiznack, I didn't realize..."
"I might be... a little?" Lance smiled sheepishly, finally admitting it. Clearly, that cat was going to be out of the bag.
Keith helped Lance up, talking him back to his room. He supported him gently the way there, as Lance found that the world wouldn't stop spinning when he stood. He touched Lance like he was breakable, speaking softer.
He let Lance lay down, and Lance watched him leave. Warmth filled him as he realized just how caring Keith was being, even if he seemed unsure or awkward.
Keith might have a bit of a temper, but he cared about Lance,,, at least on some level. And that much was comforting.
The next few days while Keith was visiting, Lance was lucky they didn't need Voltron. Keith had made it his personal mission to make sure Lance had everything he needed (Although, thank goodness, he left the cooking to Hunk. Lance might have a crush on that boy but he wouldn't want to test his skills in a weird space kitchen when food was already unappetizing enough to him while he was sick). Pidge took a few more breaks from her tech projects to play video games with Lance, and the whole team managed to huddle together in the evening after dinner to watch a movie together.
Lance was later informed cheekily by Hunk that he had spent most of those movies fast asleep on Keith's shoulder.
At the very least, Lance didn't end up ruining Keith's visit at all.