a/n: longer scene bc dialouge. glad to finally get into the meat of the story.
tw: vom mention, ED alluding, langst ovb.
Time didn't feel real. Lance was visited by each member of Voltron in turns. Coran, Keith, Hunk, Hunk, Shiro, Coran, Allura, Coran, Shiro, Hunk, Keith, Coran. They all asked the same questions.
He didn't feel any better; Lance was just throwing up less. Maybe it was mental or it was actually the food goo still tormenting him.
Still. Being sick from whatever sucked.
On what Lance guessed was day three or many four or so of being sick, Pidge came in.
No knock, just came in.
"Heyo Lance."
"Hi." Lance was laying down on his side, in his bed, staring to doze off.
He roused, lifting his head to lean on his hand, elbow digging into the mattress, staring at Pidge, eyes half shut.
"You look tired."
"It's because I am."
Pidge laughed nervously, like it was a joke. But it wasn't. Lance had been doing not much. Just resting. They probably called a meeting about him or some shit. That's what Allura always resorted to when someone was down or needed "extra" attention.
It was a way for her to get on the same page with the whole team.
But it was insulting. Why didn't she just come directly to him instead of gossiping about him in front of everybody then inform them of what he directly said.
Hunk told him about a time or two they called a meeting about Lance's "Mental Health". He thought he was keeping it together, but he wasn't enough apparently. So, Lance knew they called a meeting about the "incident".
"You have allergies, huh?" Pidge asked.
"Maybe."
"Looks like food poisoning to be honest."
"Yep. Looks like it." Lance agreed, too tired to engage.
Silence.
Pidge fiddled with her sleeve, she took a deep breath in.
"Ok. I am sorry for being so mean to you about not "liking"-" She used air quotes, "the food goo. I just needed an outlet because I have been working hard on this project that isn't going well. It has too many screws in it. And too much data to work with. Not to mention the wires that I have to deal with. Dang...Ok...I see I'm getting off track..."
She gave him a small smile.
"I'm sorry, is all I am trying to say. I am sometimes dismissive and blunt because I am in a ship of males. Not just that. I..really haven't know you all for a long time. We've been on this space mission for what...under a year? And I'm living with you all? I just don't have the fortitude to deal with all the social connections. That's no excuse. I was just being an asshole. An elite, large, douche one."
"That was a lot." Lance began to chuckle, but it turned into a wracking cough.
Pidge watched then stepped in.
"You good?" She asked, watching him.
Mid-cough Lance said, "Water- please?"
Pidge hurried to pour him a glass of water.
"Thank you." Lance drank greedily.
He took a clear breath, "You didn't have to tell me all that but thank you for the apology."
"You're welcome." She spoke.
Pidge stepped closer to the bed; she put a hand on his head, it was sisterly in nature. Lance didn't mind and he leaned into the contact because her hand was warm. It reminded him of his family, their touches would be similar to this. He smiled up at her; Pidge's brown-straw hair reminding him of his youngest sister in style.
A knock then Lance's door opened with another person.
"Hey Lance." Keith walked in like he owned the place.
Pidge shot away from Lance, like he was made of fire.
Lance tried to think nothing of it. He reasoned; she probably wasn't used to this stuff. It still hurt but he ignored that feeling.
"Hi Keith." Lance deadpanned.
Keith didn't slow his pace but stopped to tower over Lance laying down in the bed.
"I'm sorry." Was all he said.
"Well that makes two of us." Pidge said, red creeping up on her peach cheeks, "Bye guys."
She left the room.
"What did that mean?" Keith asked.
"Nothing." Lance shook his head.
"So." Keith sat down, back straight as could be, on the edge foot of Lance's bed, "I am sorry for getting into your business. I had no right. It just...feels..."
"What?" Lance asked.
"It feels...familiar."
"Hm? What?"
"Nothing." Keith shook his head.
Keith mirrored Lance in his slow actions, tired eyes. They both look exhausted.
Then Lance's brain began working.
The revelation came to Lance. Keith must be dealing with food issues too. Not Lance's issues now but the tiredness. Keith's food habits; he ate slow, he didn't' eat much at meals and sometimes snacked like a pregnant woman. Like Keith couldn't get enough in, enough food in. It was all there, all the signs that Lance also had in a different way.
Keith was also thin, bony, unyielding on his food choices once he chose them.
But Lance couldn't assume.
There was uncomfortable silence.
Then Lance's stomach lurched and he raced to the bathroom. Lance slammed the door to get privacy. Uncomfortable spasms in his stomach but no puke. Lance was sitting on the floor but opened the door because Keith was still there.
"You good Keith?" Lance smiled tiredly.
"Yeah...just people who throw up...makes me want to."
"Totally Ok." Lance said, getting up slowly, groaning walking over to stand in front of Keith, "My uncle is like that too. Just leaves the house whenever someone has the stomach bug."
Keith was now standing, jittery, almost like a crow hopping on a branch. Always one sound away from flight.
Lance crossed his arms over his stomach, pushing his hands into his sleeves. His stomach still hurt just a little bit but he wasn't going to admit that to Keith who was nervous about pukers.
"My stomach feels a lot better." Lance said, walking over to where Keith was, standing by Lance's bed.
They were standing, facing each other. Lance was staring, he sniffled then Keith laughed lightly, nervously, smoothing his hair down. Lance smiled at him then frowned deeply.
"I am hiding something." Lance spoke the words softly, shrugging, "That thing about my "business" you asked about."
Lance leaned more on one leg.
"Food problems?" Keith asked.
Keith had a sharp intake a breath; he mirrored Lance's frown. The raven haired teen looked so serious now, dark eyes meeting Lance's blue ones. Lance felt a little dizzy at the eye contact. Keith mirrored Lance's body language, only his hands were on his hips.
"Something like that." Lance sighed, "Maybe."
Lance looked away.
"Yeah. I get that."
Lance nodded and the room started spinning slightly. Lance sighed wearily and Keith looked at Lance closer, worry creasing his eyes. Maybe it was the eye contact? Keith didn't make eye contact often or he got up too fast?
"Oh shit Lance. You look like you are about to pass out."
Keith helped Lance sit down without Lance reacting or saying anything.
"I'll go get you some water, yeah?"
"Sure." Lance said.
The room felt less dizzy sitting down.
Keith left the room quickly. What...exactly happened?
Lance was washed out from all the interaction. It didn't help that he had also been puking up his lungs every couple hours.
But Keith...Lance's business...that's as close as they would get to that discussion. Lance's suspicions ended up being correct. He didn't need to pry Keith further. They both had food "issues" and that was that.
They just had a mutual bonding moment.
Not everyone in his life mad at him; everyone happy together.
As Lance was drifting off to sleep he remembered that Pidge got him a glass of water. He didn't need Keith's water but he appreciated that Keith offered. He fell asleep just as the door was closing and lights shutting off. Did Keith really take that long to leave or was Lance falling asleep really fast? He wasn't sure.
