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Hunk coughed harshly and spat into the sink. The lingering taste of sick was turning his stomach still, but he had promised himself he would be quick. Nobody needed to have their schedule thrown off because of him. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, it had been a rough week. Garrison training really ramped up this semester.
He cupped a handful of cold water to rinse his mouth with before washing his face with haste. When he turned to leave, his newly assigned teammate was standing behind him, staring- or glaring? Whatever he was doing it was making Hunk’s palms sweat with anxiety.
“You okay?” That was it. Hunk waited a second, staring blankly. No berating came, no scoffing, no ‘if-you-can’t-take-the-training-leave’ spiel like he got from some of the others when he threw up during the pacer test.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” His voice stung and was thin and cracking from the abuse of being so violently sick just a few minutes ago. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Cool. Um, I’m Lance. It- we didn’t really get properly introduced.” He smiled at Hunk, a thousand kilowatt smile that made Hunk’s own face crack into a grin even though he still felt shaky.
“I’m Hunk.”
————-
“Simulation complete.” The pneumatic door locks hissed as they disengaged and Hunk pushed his way through as fast as he could manage. Today was even worse than the day before. They finished a hard obstacle course with him barely keeping his stomach in line- even a few of the other students had tapped out or thrown up on the sidelines from the strain of it. Then they ran simulations. Then more simulations. This was their introduction. No sit down, here is the manual these are your controls. Blindly being thrown into three different cockpit styles with different layouts and jostled around inside. Every mistake being berated by Commander Iverson, even though they all had never set foot in a cockpit before.
“At least he knows to hide his face after such a disgraceful display!” Hunk could hear the lecture on the peripheral of his attention. He was going to be sick, and right there in front of everyone if he wasn’t fast. That thought sent a jolt of panic through him, making the nausea spike. He left his new team there to take the flack all by themselves. Oh, god what kind of team member was he? He gagged into his hand. Times up. He pushed the lid off of one of the bins just around the corner- recycling or garbage who cared in a bin was better than on the floor.
The distant shouting faded out of his awareness entirely, his head was swimming and he felt like his skin was buzzing. A heady wave of heat rolled down his shoulders and ice cold sweat dripped down his face. He felt his shoulders roll forward before he was aware he was gagging into the bin. It was rather quiet, save for the harsh cough at the end that tore his throat. His stomach bubbled and he felt choked, he couldn’t breathe. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he choked on it trying to hold back. He tried to swallow again but it caught and he coughed harshly again, bringing up a bitter taste.
Somewhere off there was an explosion of sound, and he wanted to look but his eyes were stinging, his face ached with pressure from the unwilling exertion his body was taking. Loud, slapping footsteps crossed behind him and his face burned with humiliation. He couldn’t help it. He retched again, the spit and a small spurt of vomit mixing together and splattering on the cans below him. His body tingled with another wave of nausea crashing over him like an icy bucket of water.
He coughed up a huge wave of half digested breakfast and it didn’t seem to stop. He tried to breathe, really, he did. It hitched after he tried to inhale and he curled further forward as his stomach clenched so harshly it made his muscles scream. And again, barely a breath and he was sent forward with another gush of sickness. Something patted at his back, knocking the air back into him. He gasped, greedily sucking in as much as his lungs could hold before coughing. He swiped his wrist under his eyes carefully. They were streaming, his nose was running like a sieve and he could feel the tacky strings of mucus and vomit trailing from his mouth and nose.
“That’s it,” the smacks to his back turned into someone rubbing smooth circles as he shuddered in breath after breath, “You got it, now.”
His face burned, someone was there. This was not him wishing one of his moms was there, this was most definitely a real person. He tried to spit, but ended up coughing again and bringing up another string of sick. He could breathe, though, that’s what mattered. He finally spat, and blew through his nose to try and dislodge the, no doubt charming, mess dripping from his face.
“You okay now, uh Hunk, was it?” Lance’s face was in his peripheral vision, hand still on his back. Hunk nodded, but stayed hovering over the, yep that was the recycling bin. He was scared to respond, his throat felt thick and burned so badly.
“Good. Here.” He handed over a wad of napkins from the Garrison cafeteria. He pulled another fresh wad out of his other pocket too, as Hunk started swiping them under his nose.
“Thank-“ Hunk tried, but it caught in his throat and he coughed until he gagged again. He threw up. Again. He heaved a shaky sigh after it was over and went back to wiping his face in silence.
“That’s it. If you throw up one more time we’re going to the hospital.”
“It’s the Garrison, there’s no hospital for miles.” Hunk croaked. “It’ll be fine.”
“Then I’ll take you to whatever passes for a medical centre here. You’ve thrown up, like, every day this week.” Hunk straightened up a little and looked down at his shoes, best to avoid looking at the mess. He could feel his face going red again. “Come on, Iverson told me to take off for the day anyway.”
“What?” Hunk blinked up at him.
“I kind of told him to stuff it and walked off. He was getting way too much enjoyment out of us suffering, and I mean…” Lance took his hand off Hunk’s back, content the taller boy was going to be able to hold his own for a moment. He shrugged. “We’re a team now or whatever, so, you’re more important than an ego driven tirade.”
“Aww geeze,” Hunk ran his hand through his damp hair, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you guys in trouble.”
“Its fine, seriously, you okay?”
“Its embarrassing,” Hunk looked up and down the hall. It was surprisingly, and thankfully, empty. “I’m okay, for real. I just get sick to my stomach really easily. I got kicked off the bus coming up here because I kept throwing up, actually.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Motion sickness, and stuff.”
“That’s all? Thank God,” Lance held his hand to his chest as he sighed, “We can work with that, man. Come on, you look trashed. How are you even standing? If you get sick like that every time, you have to have some serious strength.”
“Hey, can I stop running interference now? I swear one of these older guys is gonna deck me!” A new voice grumbled from behind Hunk. His other new team mate- small kid with glasses, what was his name?
“Thanks, Pidge. Sorry about that,” Lance shot the smaller boy a smile past Hunk’s arm. “You’re a real cool kid, you know that?”
“Shut up,” Pidge rolled his eyes, “You okay there, guy?” Hunk nodded, he shifted from side to side under their attention. It felt so weird, they were already willing to get in trouble on his behalf, after only, what? A day and a half maybe?
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.” He cleared his throat again, his voice was so wrecked, “Didn’t catch your name, sorry.”
“Its Pidge. Come on, you look like crap. Lance, don’t stand there and talk to him all day, we had a plan.”
“What?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Lance gently pulled on Hunk’s arm. “C’mon. We’re kidnapping you to get some rest and some ice cream- if you’re feeling up to it. Vanilla ice cream does wonders for a sore throat, and isn’t so bad on an upset stomach either.”
“Not to be rude, but it was kind of obvious you’ve been sick. You’ve been looking pretty wrung out for a couple days now.” Hunk smiled sheepishly. He knew that, everyone was looking rough. He kept that to himself, even though the small boy in front of him looked pretty haggard and had dark circles on his own pale face.
“Aw, geeze. Thanks guys.” Hunk smiled, he could feel his eyes prickling. Okay, maybe they weren’t totally like his moms, but this was really bringing back some memories. If he could get his throat to feel a bit better, and sound a little less awful, maybe he could call home and tell them about this. They’d be so proud to know their son was lucky enough to be teamed up with some pretty alright guys.