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Had anyone suggested that someday, he would end up nursing one of his feverish friends on one of his regular Friday movie-night with his roommates, he might have believed them – he just wouldn’t have taken it too seriously.
Right now though, Lance was lying on the couch and Shiro was hyper aware of every huff and wheeze coming from the sick boy, somehow his breaths louder than even the dialogue between the man and woman on TV.
It was probably this bad because he wanted to be sure Lance was not awake when he would finally turn to Keith. But as he glanced back over his shoulder and up at the couch he saw Lance’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in discomfort and the soaked cloth they had placed on his forehead slowly slipping down with every little movement he made.
Shiro got up and stretched, the others glancing at him from the corner of their eyes but not commenting when he went to soak the cloth with cool water.
He wrung it out with his flesh hand, his mind drifting a little.
He had seen the signs for weeks and not done anything.
It wasn’t much of a secret to him that Lance worked very hard to stay in college. As far as he could remember from class, Lance had a large family. He loved talking about them whenever the chance presented itself. So it hadn’t taken much figuring out on his part to understand that Lance was doing whatever it took to put as little strain on his family’s finances as possible.
He had known Lance worked a lot, with how he often complained about customers and rushing from one place to another. Shiro just hadn’t fathomed that, beside his classes and the one job he did speak about, he would have another one in a coffee shop.
Him living on his own had been news to him though.
Lance made a small noise when the cloth was placed on his forehead again. He did not look anything like the confident and flirtatious young man who eagerly helped out his peers in class.
With an apologetic smile he turned to Keith, swiftly checking the time on his phone.
“Keith, sorry to ask but could you come with me?”
His younger brother, still nibbling on the rind of his pizza, blinked up at him from the ground.
Shiro checked again if Lance really and truly was out for the count.
“Lance’s boss needs the car back. I just thought better of it than saying it in front of him.” He jabbed a finger at the dozing man in question.
The rind disappears with a loud crunch within seconds as Keith gets up and retrieves his jacket and the key’s for his motorbike.
Stealing the car keys from Lance has nothing to do with being sneaky. He’s dead to the world, flushed and twitching and obviously too out of it to remember what happened later.
Small mercies.
“We’ll be back in twenty. Hope that’s alright?” he asks, Hunk just nodding with his eyes trained on his phone probably looking for some way to alleviate their impromptu patient’s state. Pidge quickly pauses the DVD and scampering off to go and get their card deck or something.
“Thanks.”
The ride wasn’t long, just a few blocks down the road but it was still long enough and quiet enough for his thoughts to race as his eyes dart to look at the rear-mirror to see Keith trailing behind at a reasonable pace for once.
As much as he regrets movie night having been disrupted he can’t help but feel relieved to know that Lance isn’t driving around when he barely could see straight. The kid really was unbelievable.
It also makes Shiro realize how much sheer dumb luck was involved in all of this. If it hadn’t been them ordering from that particular pizzeria, Lance might have simply pushed on until he would have collapsed in someabandoned parking lot or ended up in an accident.
Shiro’s grip on the steering wheel turned some of his remaining knuckles white.
The shopkeeper, a woman looking just as dead on her feet as Lance had, was near ecstatic to have the green wreck of a car back. One look at the bags under her eyes and Shiro kind of understood why Lance had been so adamant about returning back to work.
“Sorry for the trouble.” she sighed, pocketing the keys with a jingle at glancing at her wrist watch.
“It’s alright.” Shiro assured, not allowing Keith’s incessant tapping of his foot to rush him. He was immune to it by now anyway. “Are you gonna be alright?”
She waved her hand jerkily.
“Yeah. Won’t have to wait much longer for Dan, thank god.” she mumbled and Shrio got the distinct feeling he was not supposed to hear that last part. She cast him a worried look, “But Lance is alright? I mean, I had a feeling he was not at one hundred percent but I never would have imagined him showing up when he was pretty much cooking from the inside out.”
It didn’t take a PhD to understand she felt guilty about the whole ordeal.
“Don’t worry, he’s with us and we’ll make sure he’ll be back on his feet.”
“Okay.”
When he’d also paid the money for the delivery (leaving a generous tip), he strapped on the spare helmet Keith extended to him and got onto the bike.
They didn’t say anything for a while, Shiro holding on and Keith doing his best at driving as smoothly as possible.
“You’re being too loud again.”
He snorted.
“I guess.”
“What’s on your mind?”
He could appreciate Keith’s impatience at times and even more his unwillingness to shy away from uncomfortable truths and topics. It was one of the things that helped him most after the accident that cost him his arm.
“Trying to figure things out.”
“The usual then.”
Shiro clicked his tongue as Keith slowed down when the traffic light changed from green to red.
“I just wanna help, I guess.” he admitted, watching as cars crossed over the intersection, their lights painting blurs over the red of Keith’s helmet.
His brother gave a nod, revving the engine when the lights finally changed.
“Well, that Lance guy is stuck with us anyway.”
The matter of fact tone made a smile stretch his lips.
“I know. But this will just happen again. He’s too proud when it comes to being independent. I even bet he could hold up with you when it comes to sheer stubbornness.”
If it weren’t for the fact that Keith has to keep his hands on the handgrips, Shiro was sure he would have gotten a punch to the shoulder. Instead there’s a muttered promise to do that later instead.
The drive is too short for him to come up with a solution but his mind continues buzzing and he apparently got Keith to join in as well. The small crease between his eyebrows is indication enough.
They had barely made it through the door and into the room when Hunk’s excited voice greets them, jesting lilt to his words.
“Guys, can we keep him?”
Keith stifles a splutter in the crook of his elbow while Shiro blinks at their friends, still sitting by the couch and grinning conspiratorially.
It was an open secret that the engineer was prone to picking up and trying to adopt strays but Shiro never would have guessed that privilege extending to humans as well.
He noted Pidge’s hand carding through Lance’s hair and felt his eyebrows disappearing behind his white tuft of hair. Pidge was… particular when it came to touching others and even more so when it came to other people’s bodily fluids. It was a common occurrence that, whenever Hunk’s anxiety culminated in a fit of puking, Pidge could be found in her room, headphones jammed over her ears and volume turned up to the max until the storm was weathered.
Despite everything, she had never failed to stand in front of the bathroom door with a cup of freshly brewed tea for when her friend would get out.
But her so readily initiating contact with someone as sweaty as Lance undoubtedly had to be by now, was testament to the guy’s uncanny ability to charm his way into people’s heart – even when utterly sick.
“What gives?” and he jerked his head at the scene.
Pidge adjusted her glasses with her free hand.
“Well, your friend kind of believes I’m his mom or sister or whatever. Anyway, he wouldn’t stop whining unless I patted his hair.”
“And out of the goodness of your heart you readily sacrificed yourself?” Keith observes, expression incredulous. Before Pidge could shoot back a retort Hunk gave a bark of a laugh. Lance did not even stir.
“Naw man, she just couldn’t resist those puppy eyes. But honestly? Nobody with eyes or a heart probably could.” he added after receiving a jab to his thigh from one of Pidge’s rather pointy elbows.
Despite their lighthearted teasing, Shiro’s chest felt heavy.
“So no change?”
The worried edge to his tone seems to dampen the mood, Hunk suddenly growing more agitated and Pidge’s face falling a little.
“We checked again a few minutes ago. His fever hasn’t climbed, probably because of the fever reducers but otherwise… yeah, he’s pretty out of it. Been calling for his mamá and stuff.”
It really was kind of sad.
And to think that Lance might have ended up all alone at his apartment when all he wanted was to have his family around… Yeah, it definitely was a good thing he had wound up here.
When he can’t take the sudden tension any longer, he picks up one of the pizza boxes and makes his way over to the microwave. Warm food will do them some good and maybe movie night is still salvageable.
“You guys get ready to continue watching.” he announced, glad to see smiles returning to his friends’ faces. He caught Keith disappearing round the corner, probably to go and fetch some soft drink from the stash in their shared room.
Soon enough they were back in front of the TV, Pidge having opted to have Lance’s had in her lap with a pillow between them.
“He may be sick but I still have my principles.”
Even with her defiant air, she had no one fooled. Lance for his part, seemed to very much appreciate the attention he got even if he was not fully aware of it. Still, he seemed less agitated than when he had first been parked on the couch. Shiro hoped it was a good sign.
It was well past 1 A.M. when Pidge started nodding off, a development no one batted an eye at: during the week, Pidge stayed up most nights coding and programming and testing theories. All attempts to get her to stick to a somewhat reasonable sleeping schedule had ended in failure partially out of circumstances, partially due to Pidge’s unwillingness to cooperate.
It was something they had gotten used to over time. But whenever they had movie or gaming night, Pidge seemed to relax enough for her body to finally shut down on its own and fall asleep. It was actually why they had made Friday movie night into a standing tradition.
And judging by the amount of squinting Keith was doing he wasn’t far behind.
“You guys wanna check out?”
Pidge startled, trying and failing to assure she could go on around a yawn. Keith mumbled something unintelligible.
“I ache looking at the both of you. Just go to bed already.”
“And leave you alone to deal with the sick person? No thank you, sir.”
Shiro threw her a dry look when she started yawning again.
“Right.” he glanced at Hunk “If you would?”
“Sir” Hunk mock saluted, getting up and going behind the backrest where he put his hands under the girl’s armpits while Shiro went ahead and lifted Lance off of her just enough for Hunk to finally haul her off the couch.
Pidge was far too familiar with this scenario to even put up a fight anymore, just letting herself go floppy as a form of protest, a pout on her face.
“Really now?”
“Really.”
Her expression grew more serious as Shiro placed Lance’s head back onto the pillow.
“You sure you’re gonna be alright?” her voice was small and tentative, prompting Shiro to reassure her.
“I’ll be alright. Just go and get some rest. I’ll get you guys if I need help.”
That seemed to do the trick and Shiro watched as they filed out one by one. Lance seemed calm enough, ignoring the flush of his cheeks and the occasional babble. As he went to stick the thermometer under Lance’s tongue he thought that maybe the worst was over.
Shiro knew he had a knack for jinxing himself. Usually that was alright but right now it was Lance paying the price for it and Shiro, in a sheepish way, felt guilty for it.
“Hey, it’s okay.” he soothed, his flesh hand drawing circles on the sick boy’s back as he retched into the bin Shiro had grabbed the moment Lance started gagging and jerking on the couch.
Whatever had managed to crawl up his esophagus landed inside it with a disgusting splat and Shiro was quick to pull the bin away the moment it became clear Lance was done. Using the damp cloth, Shiro wiped the last traces of vomit off Lance’s chin.
He had been dozing when he had been startled awake by small whimpers and noises coming from the quivering bundle on the couch.
After washing out the bin and returning to the living room, he took a look at the thermometer, feeling betrayed. When he had sent the rest of the gang to bed Lance’s fever had actually dropped to 102.4 but right now he had undeniable proof that it had spiked again.
He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“We’re in for a rough morning, buddy.”
To his surprise, Lance’s eyes cracked open a slit their usually vibrant blue dulled and clouded.
“Lance?”
At his name, he looked up at Shiro but it was more like looking through him than at him. He grew alarmed as Lance began struggling with the layers of blankets on him, breaths growing ragged.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. What do you need?”
Shiro no longer truly panicked in these kinds of situations. When Keith had been younger, he had often suffered from some kind of infection and as his older brother Shiro had always been there to help him through. Well, almost always.
The gentle words seemed to do the trick, Lance ceasing his squirming, half-lidded eyes blankly staring into Shiro’s. He went and swept some of the boy’s sweaty bangs back, the latter relishing in the contact, going slack under Shiro’s palm but not saying anything.
Shiro’s heart went out to the poor guy.
“Lance, do you need anything?” he repeated, just to make sure.
When all Lance did was closing his eyes again, he gave a short huff, readying himself to get up and make himself something to drink.
He started at the strangled whine that followed his retreat, his head snapping around to see Lance looking up at him with the most heartbroken expression he’d ever seen on anyone.
A tan hand finally found its way out of the sheets reaching for Shiro and he instantly was back kneeling beside Lance’s head, holding onto that same hand, while he clumsily tried to wipe away a few stray tears with his prosthesis.
“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here, it’s alright.”
Lance’s lower lip wobbled worryingly as he continued leaking tears and snot. He looked utterly vulnerable and Shiro was taken aback by the sudden realization just how much he was starting to care for this kid he helped out in econ once a week.
“Don’ go…” the sob came out so slurred it was almost impossible to understand. Shiro did anyway.
“Of course not.”
The pleading eyes did him in and minutes later found Shiro sitting on the couch, cradling Lance close, one arm supporting his back and the other ensuring Lance would not roll off his lap.
Shiro could feel the heat radiating off the kid even through the layers of fabric, felt the warm breath ghosting over the crook of his neck in short puffs, felt every little movement as Lance tried to get as close to the source of comfort as possible.
It was far from comfortable and made worry churn in Shiro’s gut as he was so invasively confronted with the fact just how ill Lance was but he also felt relief wash over him when the young man settled, breathing something like a contended sigh.
Shiro allowed himself to relax back into the cushions of the couch, Lance following the movement.
He rested his cheek on the all too warm skin of Lance’s forehead.
He still had no answer. Still had no clear idea how to help, although it was all he could think about now. He really wanted to help this loud-mouthed student who could never seem to stop talking about his family, who was willing to share whatever he had worked out for class just as he was willing to ask for everyone else’s notes; wanted to help a poor guy who was obviously pretty homesick and pretty lonely on top of being overworked to the point of exhaustion.
Shiro really wanted to help this kid that reminded him a little bit too much of his younger self.
“Rise and shine.”
Trying to open his eyes was like trying to separate two sticky pages: painful and all too hopeless.
He opted for opening one, glancing blearily at Pidge’s exaggeratedly sunny expression. If petty had a name it would be Pidge Kathleen Holt.
“Morning.”
He sounded awful, like he’d been out drinking.
Pidge had the decency to wince in sympathy.
“Did you two sleep alright?”
It took Shiro a moment to fully understand what she was saying but when her eyes flitted down to his lap he suddenly remembered. From this angle he couldn’t see much more than a mob of brown hair but he could feel and hear the deep and regular breaths coming from the human burrito in his arms and Shiro allowed himself a relieved sigh when he noticed the lack of heat he had fallen asleep to.
He gave Pidge a tight smile as she waited for his answer.
“Could have been better.” He tested moving his limbs, a little stiff from the odd angle he had ended up with but still bearable. Lance snuggled up to him but did not wake.
Pidge made a small cooing noise, impish smile bringing out her dimples.
“Please, don’t say anything and bring me the thermometer.”
With an innocent shrug, she disappeared towards the bathroom and Shiro used that time to untangle himself from the mound of blankets and long limbs. Although objectively, with how tired he had been, Lance not waking up made perfect sense; it was still disconcerting just how dead to the world he was.
Almost out of reflex his hand went to gauge Lance’s temperature and he was pleasantly surprised to find it almost back to normal. Still, he gladly took the thermometer when Pidge handed it to him.
“Hey, Lance.” he gave his shoulder a small nudge.
When he opened his eyes, Shiro was glad to see that they were clear with no lingering trace of a fever. Lance blinked before squinting at him and finally rubbing gunk of his eyes with the heel of one hand.
“Shiro?” he asked blearily and from the sound of it was obvious that, though no longer feverish, he was far from fine.
Shiro gave him a smile: “Good morning. How do you feel?”
Lance appeared flummoxed, brow furrowed as he propped himself up on his elbows, looking around.
“Do you know where you are?” Shiro tried hard not to sound too worried at the lost look he got.
“I…” he hesitated “Is this your place?”
“Yeah.”
There was a short lull, one interrupted by the flushing of the toilet and with Keith emerging from the bathroom, looking at them curiously.
“Morning.”
Lance and Shiro echoed the greeting, the dark-skinned man looking all the more confused for it.
“Good to see you’re better.”
Lance nodded dazedly, obviously not following.
“How are your hands?”
As though only now realizing there was gauze wound around them, Lance lifted one of them and Shiro was fascinated to pinpoint the exact moment when everything clicked into place for him.
“Oh shoot!”
If it weren’t for his abnormally good reflexes, he was sure he would not have been able to stop Lance from jumping off the couch and sprint out the door.
“Woah, woah, woah! No, you are not getting off that couch unless I’ve taken your temperature.”
Lance seemed ready to argue, some of that spunk Shiro was already familiar with having returned to him and he went ahead and shoved the thermometer under Lance’s tongue before he could even begin to voice his protest.
Plus, the expression of pure shock was totally worth it.
“100.0” he wiped the tip of the thermometer with a tissue as Lance glowered at him, betrayed.
“Listen,” Lance began, Shiro arching one eyebrow knowing exactly where this sentence was going “Thank you for helping me out, really, you didn’t have to-“
“No we didn’t.”
“I know but-“
“But we wanted to.”
Lance’s lips were pursed.
“I need to go.”
“No, you don’t.”
The first bits of real irritation were coloring his cheeks and Shiro considered laying off a little.
“I have to get to work. Anita’ll be waiting and –“
“Lance.” Shiro tried to make his voice as kind but firm as possible, making the boy look up at him in surprise. “You probably don’t remember but I called your boss yesterday and she told me you should not come if you were still sick by today. And I hate to break it to you,” he swiftly interjected when Lance opened his mouth, waving the thermometer he was still holding “but 100.0 still classifies as a fever. So you’re not going anywhere but to bed.”
He watched him deflate under his very eyes. Man, he now understood what Pidge and Hunk had meant by ‘puppy-eyes’ look. But he would not cave. He had worked a little too hard to let his work go to waste.
There was the familiar banging and clanking of pots coming from the kitchen, promising some fine breakfast.
“You hungry?”
The unexpected and perfectly timed gurgle coming from Lance’s midsection was answer enough.
“So, is the coffee there any good?”
Lance gags, shaking himself dramatically.
“From one honest man to another? Don’t go there if you value your taste-buds.”
Hunk, with the seriousness only an army officer should be able to muster, nods once gravely before continuing to stirr the white of the eggs.
Shiro watches the exchange as he tries to figure out where to fit the extra plate on their relatively small kitchen table. Hunk gets along with pretty much everyone but it’s just incredible how perfectly he and Lance seem to fit each other, as though they were two old friends instead of virtual strangers that have met just the day before.
The idea comes to him spontaneously. He also can admit that the execution of it is rather clumsy for his standards. He blames it on the lack of sleep.
“You know” he starts, making Lance stop laughing at the joke Hunk was starting to talk about, almost, almost dissuading him from finishing the sentence “we are currently looking for another roomie.”
It’s half-lie. They’d been discussing the idea recently sure, but there hadn’t been an agreement on the matter as of yet.
Uncertainty and maybe a little shame cloud Lance’s expression, the timing not right just yet to mention anything about his living or work situation.
From behind Lance, Shiro can see all three of his actual roommates making exasperated praying gestures. Were they up to something?
Lance’s voice has his attention snapping back to him.
“You really don’t have to… It’s fine, honestly.” and the way he says it just screams lie. Even Lance seems to be aware of it “Things have just been a little more hectic but I can do it. But thanks.”
Shiro leaves it at that especially when he catches Pidge crossing her arms in an x- shape before dropping it once Lance turns around to hand them a peeled fruit.
They work in silence, although not as depressing or foreboding as Shiro had feared after his massive blunder.
When the mood is considerably lighter and the delicious smell of Hunk’s special omelet wafts through the kitchen, Shiro hears the man in question suggest:
“Tell you what Lance, Shiro has a point.”
At his name he looks back at the stove where Lance is standing with a spatula in hand, eyes trained on the egg sizzling in the pan. Hunk is close by, slicing up some fruit, evoking an air of nonchalance. Shiro knows he’s being anything but and when he catches Pidge’s smirk and Keith glinting eye he suddenly realizes his friends must have been talking after having left him with Lance.
He has to work hard to suppress the proud smile. Trust his brother to understand the strange workings of his mind.
These three were actual blessings.
He listens in on what he can still catch from Hunk’s part of the conversation.
“- if you don’t like my cooking at all you’re absolutely free to go but if you find even remotely good then at least think about the offer. What do you say?”
He gives Lance an amicable smile, while the latter only has half a mind to spare to really think what he is about to agree to.
It was so unfair.
No one could resist Hunk’s cooking. Not that Lance could possibly know that, or that anyone had to mention it when he went to shake Hunk’s hand on it.
It also surprised no one when, a mere three weeks later, Lance almost broke his neck while trying to get one of his moving boxes into Hunk’s room.