Content Warning: This chapter contains non-graphic mentions of vomiting.
Bug Bite
The strangest part of passing out with little to no warning is the sudden lost time. Hunk recalled that what seemed like only a moment ago, he'd been fine—attending a celebration on the recently liberated Knackmarian home-world. Now, everything was dark and muddled and he felt like the final product of a trash compactor. From behind his closed lids, his eyes ached. His throat was tight with pain, his head pounded, and Lance was yelling. Wait. Lance was yelling, repeating Hunk's name over the whispers of the crowd that had likely gathered around the Yellow Paladin's seemingly still unconscious form.
There was a trembling hand resting on his shoulder that could only belong to his best friend. Lance was scared and that's when Hunk put all his efforts into remedying that, pouring his focus into opening his eyes. Against his will, a wheeze that developed into a groan escaped him as his seemingly weighted eyelids fought him
"Hunk? You back with us, buddy?" Lance asked, a slightly wavering hopefulness in his voice.
As Hunk finally wrenched his eyes open, he took a moment to blink away the blurriness and take in his immediate surroundings. He had been right that he'd caused a scene. Many of the Knackmarian party-goers surrounded him at a distance that was only slightly comfortable. Hunk's scrambled brain only registered them as a sea of grey-green skin and large, pale eyes. He wanted to shrink under their gazes of morbid curiosity, but his body didn't want to co-operate beyond igniting a flush of embarrassment under his cheeks.
He decided to try and ignore them and focus on a friendly face. Lance was hovering over him, hands gripping his shoulders and looking expectantly into his face. The Blue Paladin's lower lip wobbled a little, but he managed to pull a grin onto his face.
"Hey, there you are. We were just starting to miss you," he said, his attempt at levity falling flat at the worry still evident in his voice.
Hunk tried to lift his hand to wave off any concern, but his arms still felt like lead, so it dropped heavily down to his side again. He closed his eyes, shivering at the cold seeping through his shirt from the tiled floor.
"I-I'm on the ground," he said, voicing a near-delirious thought. He didn't mean to say it. Kind of obvious, right? Man, he felt awful. Why was he so sick all of a sudden?
But, it got a small laugh out of Lance, so it was worth something.
"Great observation," Lance said. It was a gentle jest—all in good humor. "You took a nosedive a couple minutes ago. Just sit tight a tick."
Another voice spoke up. "Do you remember what happened at all?"
Hunk's eyes snapped open at the sound of Shiro's question. He hadn't realized their leader was crouched just behind his head, gently pressing what felt like a scrap of fabric to his forehead. Pain was radiating from the area. He must have hit his head when he fainted. Pidge was there too. She said nothing, opting to fidget anxiously instead.
Shiro was looking down at him, features pinched in concern. Hunk had seen that expression on his face before, but never directed at him—usually at Keith when he came back from a mission looking more battered than his task had called for. This was really bad. Although, if he looked as garbage-y as he felt, it was probably completely warranted. Shiro's free hand gave him a gentle tap on the scalp, urging him to answer the question.
"Not really," Hunk breathed. It was the truth. He hardly remembered most of the night leading up to this. "I was totally fine before, but now—"
"You didn't eat or drink anything funky did you?" Lance asked. Hunk figured he was trying to rule out the idea that he'd been poisoned. It wasn't entirely unlikely, given the current state of their lives, but Hunk knew that kind of reaction would be way more violent. Truthfully, it felt like a super-powered flu virus had rammed into him at Mach 9.
"No," he rasped. "I just…I feel horrible, Lance." A slight whine was working its way into his voice. He was getting tired of the questions—however few—and the fact that they hadn't moved him back to the Castle yet. Everyone was staring. Everything hurt. He just wanted to curl up in his bed and hide away while Coran shoved whatever weird Altean remedies he had into his face.
"You do have a fever," Shiro said thoughtfully. "And I know you wouldn't have hidden that you were sick."
Pidge made a small noise in the back of her throat.
"Then this came on way too fast! What's wrong with him?" she said, clearly frustrated at the lack of immediate answers.
That really was the question, wasn't it? What was wrong with him? It did just feel he'd caught a bad cold, but what if it was more complicated? Who knows what kind of weird alien virus he'd possibly come into contact with? It was so fast-acting. Would it get worse? And at the same rate? Was he dying? Would he be dead in just a few hours? Oh, no. He was dying, wasn't he?
"Hey, man," Lance said, breaking Hunk out of his inner anxiety spiral with a quiet, soothing tone and a gentle pat on the chest. "You're gonna be fine. I swear. Keith's getting the healer. This is probably something they recognize, right? Just relax. We'll figure this out."
As if on cue, the crowd parted the make way for the Red Paladin who looked about a hair's width to losing it, frazzled and out-of-breath. A small weight visibly lifted off his shoulders at the sight of Hunk awake.
"Are you okay?" he blurted out—pretty much all as one word. His voice was tinged with what any other people in the universe would interpret as anger, but Hunk knew better. He was just scared.
Hunk gave the barest shake of his head, instantly regretting the motion as it caused his vision to swim and pain to explode in his temples. He groaned and closed his eyes just for a moment to combat the feeling—well, he thought it was a moment again anyways. He lost time again. Not as much as before, but still a noticeable gap. He came back to the feeling of being prodded and the sight of the elderly Knackmarian healer hovering over him. She was much larger than the others he'd seen and she had a soft, kindly face (which was saying a lot given the imposing tusks the species bore).
He noted with light irritation that he still hadn't been moved. Was it too much to ask to at least get rid of the audience? His friends had backed off to give the healer room; he could see them still within close range just beyond her. At some point, Allura and Coran had joined them and the fact that they looked just as lost and concerned as his fellow humans did not comfort him.
Lance was still there next to him though and it broke Hunk's heart to see his friend clearly struggling to hold back tears.
Hunk coughed to get his attention.
"Lan—"
A large hand being placed on his chest silenced him and the healer spoke.
"Hush, Paladin," she said, quickly resuming looking him over. "I believe I know what has caused your sudden illness—"
"H-how bad is it? Will he be okay? It's not, like, some kind of mutant space Ebola is it?" Lance interjected.
The Knackmarian eyed him quizzically. "I do not understand your terminology, but I assure you the Yellow Paladin is in a low degree of danger if he is given the proper treatment for his ailment. If I could only find—ah, there we are."
She paused her examination as she had gently turned one of Hunk's hands over in hers. Humming an affirmative, she motioned for the others to come get a closer look. Shiro got to them first, his long strides bringing him to the healer's side almost instantly. He seemed more confused than reassured at what he saw.
"Looks like an insect bite of some kind," he said, gently poking at a spot on Hunk's wrist that he didn't have the strength to crane his neck to see.
Lance looked across him to see for himself and his nose wrinkled a bit.
"Nasty," he whispered. "Dude, it's all swollen and purple and—"
"Don't," Hunk croaked, his already nauseated stomach rolling at just the thought of some weird alien bug snacking on him without him knowing.
Lance smiled sympathetically. "Sorry."
"Okay, but what does this mean?" Keith asked, mildly exasperated.
"The bite is from the Knackmarian Swampfly," the healer said. "They're a common, irritating creature, but sometimes they can be carriers of this particular virus."
"And we shouldn't be worried why?" Pidge prompted.
"While it is a very…unpleasant illness, it is entirely non-fatal."
The relief between Hunk and his companions was almost palpable, but of course, Shiro had lingering concerns.
"Does it normally hit someone this fast? The bite can't have happened that long ago," he asked.
"Yes, that is quite odd," the healer said. "The sickness does take hold very rapidly, but I've never seen it to this degree. I assume your species may be weaker to it."
Coran stepped forward, clearly elated to finally have some part to play in helping the Yellow Paladin.
"We shouldn't rule out any possibility that this will affect Hunk in a more violent manner" he said. "I suggest we take him back to ship. I'll scan him for any abnormalities beyond the virus itself."
Hunk groaned. They had answers now, but he could already tell he was in for a tough time.
The journey back to the Castle passed by in a blur, but Hunk was grateful that he managed not to pass out again. The others managed to get him to his feet and support him in a slow-going path. His knees killed him with every step and he nearly stumbled several times, his fall always halted by a few pairs of gentle hands. He could tell his friends were speaking either to him or each other; he couldn't tell over the buzzing in his ears.
He was briefly brought to the infirmary—or maybe it wasn't briefly. Ah, whatever. Time didn't mean a thing to him anymore. He was just along for the dumbest ride ever at this point. His consciousness faded in and out as his fever raged. He couldn't focus on anything for too long that wasn't the dull pain that throbbed over every inch of his body. Not to mention the sheer concentration it was taking him not to vomit. There were shapes, colours, lights, and voices fading from panicked tones to softer, more relaxed conversation.
Then the next thing we was fully aware of was being in his room, violently retching into a bucket that had been placed in his lap. It was nice of his brain to clear the fog just so that he could be present for a round of puking. Very nice. The annoyance was gone in a second. He couldn't muster the strength to even be angry at his situation anymore. He was sick, but he'd live through it, right? At least Lance was there.
A cool hand was rubbing circles into his back as Lance's voice offered quiet encouragement. The two of them were alone. Hunk briefly wondered where the others were, but he appreciated the idea that they had decided to give him some space. The attention he'd garnered earlier was still sitting a little sour with him and he couldn't have handled being crowded again. Even if it was by his friends who had nothing but good intentions and wanted to care for him. However, he was enjoying Lance's company. He always did.
As Hunk's stomach finally settled, Lance set the bucket on the floor, nudging it with his foot until it was a leg's length away.
"You done?" he asked.
"For now." Hunk dropped his face into his hands. "Ugh, you think I'd be used to that by now."
"It sucks no matter how many times it happens. S'not like it's gonna start tasting like candy any time soon."
"Lemme know if they make a pill for that."
Lance snorted. "I'll get someone right on that."
Hunk took a moment to breathe before he asked: "So, I'm not dying am I?"
Lance shook his head. "Nah, man. Scans say you're in the clear." He paused. "This is still gonna be rough though.'
After a light pat to Hunk's shoulder, Lance stood and crossed the short distance to the bedside table. On it was a metal tray containing many small cups of a strange purple liquid. The Blue Paladin picked one up, along with a glass of water.
"Here," he said, holding them both out. "Hopefully you can keep this down. It's some kinda medicine that should help kick the crap out of whatever you've got going on symptom-wise."
Hunk took it warily.
Lance spoke up again quickly. "I'd brace myself for that. One,even Coran warned me about the taste; two, it smells like feet and pickled eggs."
His friend's description was unfortunately spot-on and Hunk's stomach rolled again as he eyed the medicine and swirled it around in the cup. He sighed, resigning himself to his fate, before downing it in one go. The sensation of the liquid scrapping down his wrecked throat made his body instantly rebel and he gagged.
Lance yelped in surprise and moved to his side in an instant, almost tripping over himself to grab the bucket and shove it within the potential Danger Zone. Hunk might have laughed if the sudden strain on his already sore muscles hadn't put him in agony. And, oh, God, this stuff tastes way worse than it smells.
"Oh, it's like finely-aged roadkill!" he finally managed to croak out when he figured he'd be able to speak without puking again. He tried chasing the offensive substance down with water, but it was a wasted effort. It was a taste that just sticks.
Lance looked up at him with a crooked grin. "Think you can handle, like, twelve more doses of that…because, yeah, that's what you're gonna have to do."
Hunk groaned, swaying slightly as exhaustion crashed into him. Lance's hands landed on his shoulders. He was smiling, but there was still concern swimming in his eyes.
"Hey, man. Let's get you laying down," he said, gently easing Hunk down onto the mattress.
Lance fussed with his blankets for a solid minute before busying himself with setting an alarm to remind them to have Hunk choke down another dose of medicine. There was silence between them for a bit. It felt weird, as if there was some obvious course of action to be taken, but neither of them could quite place what it was. Lance sighed, moving to pick up the trashcan again (that thing would never be the same after this was over).
"I'm just gonna go wash this out," he said, sounding a little hesitant. "Don't go anywhere."
With that, Hunk was left alone for the first time since this whole thing started. Laying down had done little to ease the pain. His headache was coming back, the room would tilt every time he shifted, the fever burned his eyelids when he closed them, and now he was alone. Finally. Good, right? Wrong. It sucked. This whole thing sucked. A breath sobbed in his chest as the door slid open again.
"Hunk?"
Lance was back. Realizing what he had needed moments before, Hunk reached out to him. It was his way of giving his best friend permission—and insistence—to be close to him.
Wordlessly, Lance reacted, climbing over Hunk's shaking form to lay in the empty spot next to him in the bed. Lanky arms carefully wrapped around him and the effect was almost instantaneous; Hunk calmed slightly. He smiled weakly, his mind going back to the time he'd caught a bad stomach bug back at the Garrison. Lance had done something similar for him then, practically taking up residence in his bed and distracting him with games and aimless chatter until he'd felt better. It was a good memory—even if he had been horribly ill. He was glad that Lance had been one slice of home he'd been able to take with him on this impromptu guess-what-you're-now-part-of-a-terrifying-war space trip.
"It's gonna be okay, buddy. Try to sleep," Lance murmured into Hunk's back, sounding close to falling asleep himself.
Suddenly, the prospect of doing just that became simple. It was either the medicine kicking in or the feeling of Lance's breathing against his back that finally pulled him towards sleep. Probably a mixture of both.
Hunk awoke some time later, feeling a little better. Not a lot. Just a little. At least he was significantly more lucid and less weepy. He was trying to figure out what woke him up when he registered a hand pressed to his forehead. He looked up into tired grey eyes. Shiro.
The Black Paladin smiled. "Hey. Didn't mean to wake you."
"S'okay," Hunk said groggily as Shiro pulled his hand away.
"Just wanted to check up on you before I turned in," Shiro explained. "You…feeling anywhere close to normal now?"
Hunk paused, genuinely reflecting on that. He looked past his leader to see Keith and Pidge peeking in through the door at him. He chuckled a little. They looked like a couple of curious puppies who simultaneously had no clue what to make of the situation and therefore were keeping their distance.
"Not really, but I'll get there," Hunk rasped—but, the irritation in his throat had certainly lessened.
Shiro ruffled his hair. "Okay," he said. "I'm sure you'll let Lance know if you need anything—if you can wake him up."
Lance was still passed out, undisturbed by the intrusion and snoring lightly.
"Hopefully I won't have to," Hunk said. Feeling a little guilty, he added: "I think he had just as stressful a night as I had"
"We all did," Keith mumbled from across the room, face flushing as every pair of wakeful eyes in the room trained themselves on him.
A few sympathetic looks were exchanged. There was a conversation to be had, but it seemed that it was being tucked away for later. Shiro stood and ushered Keith and Pidge away from the door. He looked back one last time.
"Goodnight, Hunk," he said. "I hope you can beat this soon."
Hunk nodded as the door swished shut and the alarm Lance had set earlier went off. Grimacing, he bit back his nausea and lifted himself up to take care of that. He was relieved to find his aches had let up a smidge. The sleeping Blue Paladin stirred, grumbling something incoherent before shifting impossibly closer to Hunk and settling. He grinned at the unconscious gesture, affection for his friend spreading warmth in his chest. The medicine went down smoother this time—only slightly.
