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It was three p.m., at least according to the little clock Hunk had hooked up after the fourth time there had been confusion about when dinner was, and it had already been a long day. The team had been up at six as usual for training, only to be interrupted right before their breakfast break by an incoming Galra battle cruiser. That had taken several hours to deal with after it had deployed fighter jets that Keith had to hunt down one by one. Then they’d gotten a distress call from a nearby planet and had to deal with the force of Galra that had entrenched themselves.
They were finally back to the Castle, and all of them were starving, tired, and irritable. Keith’s head was throbbing, and the bright lighting in the Castle felt like blades. His muscles ached from the battle, especially his sword arm, and his fingers tingled with numb static.
He knew what he should do in this situation. He should follow the others to dinner, see Coran for the bruises he could feel forming under his armor (and maybe for a dose of space Advil for his headache) then shower off and turn in early. But what he wanted to do was go right to his room where it was dark and quiet and curl up in his blankets until everything went away. It wouldn’t help with the hunger shaking his hands, or the bruises throbbing in time with the pain in his temples, but the longer he spent in the hallway with the lights bearing down on him and the others always hovering just close enough to make him tense, the more attractive that option seemed.
“Well,” said Hunk, and Keith bristled, irritation soaring up and down his spine like pins and needles, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”
There was a chorus of agreements from the others. Keith hunched his shoulders and resisted the urge to growl in annoyance at the noise pounding in his brain.
“Today’s been rough,” Shiro said. “Once we get done briefing Allura we can all go change and get cleaned up and eat, ok?”
Keith barely kept from groaning aloud. He’d forgotten about the Princess. Debriefings always took at least an hour, and right now he was sure if he had to hear Allura rag on them for their mistakes in battle in her prissy voice while she’d sat safely in the Castle the whole time, he might actually stab her. Or bite her. Whichever proves more convenient at the time.
Unless he took the opportunity of his bedroom door coming up in the hall to escape from the situation entirely.
As usual, he acted without thinking and went for it.
“Bathroom,” he muttered, barely loud enough for Shiro to hear, then practically slammed his hand against the palm reader and disappeared into the room.
The darkness was an instant balm on his frayed nerves, and he gave a deep exhale into the shadows, the pain behind his eyes finally easing. He stood there for a few seconds, waiting for his muscles to loosen, before beginning the process of taking off his armor.
It took a few minutes with him pausing and wincing when a bruise pulled, but eventually he’d managed to shed the armor and flight suit into a haphazard pile on the floor. He then pulled on his usual pants and grey shirt, and made sure to pull on his jacket to counteract the goosebumps appearing on his skin.
At this point, now that he was a little more composed and less uncomfortable, what he should have done was go join the others for the debriefing. But what he found himself doing instead was slumping over to his bunk and face planting into his thin pillow, his entire body aching with fatigue. And there he stayed for who knows how long, until he was this close to falling asleep… and until he detected voices in the hallway.
“Man, it’s been like ten minutes, where the hell is Keith? I just wanna get this over with and get some damn food.”
Lance’s whining was answered by Shiro, who sounded just as if not more exhausted than him.
“I’m not sure, Lance. Let me check his room.”
Keith’s stomach churned, and at that point he wasn’t sure if it was from hunger, nausea, or dread. Whatever the case he really did not want to see anybody right now. He didn’t want to go to the debriefing. He didn’t want to deal with the effort of socializing. So he did the first thing he thought of; he rolled off of his bed and, dragging the blanket with him, slithered into the inviting shadows underneath.
Childish? Probably.
Did he care? Not particularly.
A square of light appeared on the floor when the door slid open, and Keith coiled into a ball, half lying on the blanket and half clutching it to his chest.
Shiro’s silhouette loomed in the doorway. There was silence for a moment before Lance’s voice filled it, the volume making Keith wince and press his face into the blanket.
“Where the heck did he go?”
“I don’t know,” sighed Shiro. “Let’s just head to the debrief, I’ll track him down after.”
“But that’s not fair! Why does Keith get to skip it?”
“Lance, please. Not right now.”
Footsteps echoed, receding from the door, and Lance’s voice followed, still whining and complaining all the way. Keith wanted to feel bad for Shiro, for causing so much trouble for him, but he couldn’t summon the energy. Sweat was beading at the nape of his neck and crawling down his spine, but the next moment it turned cold and left him shivering. All the while his muscles burned and his head pounded and his eyelids sagged, begging him to let them close.
Wrapping himself as much as he could in the blanket with the small amount of space he had, he curled back into his ball and let himself drift off into a doze.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed after that. He wasn’t quite asleep, but he wasn’t quite awake, either. It didn’t really matter. It was dark and quiet and warm in his hiding place, except for the occasional wave of chills, and all thought of the debriefing or anything else had fled his mind. A few times he thought he heard footsteps and voices, but could never distinguish the words, and eventually they’d fade away again.
Unfortunately his peace couldn’t go undisturbed forever. This time the footsteps he heard stopped at his room. The door slid open, and dimly he was aware of someone’s voice before the lights flickered on.
Keith pressed his back to the wall and prayed they would go away. No such luck-- the footsteps padded around for a few seconds, then he heard someone give a tired sigh.
“Oh, Keith.” It was Shiro’s voice. He tried to open his eyes, managing a single glimpse of Shiro’s face from where he looked in on his hiding place before the light burned them.
He snapped them shut with a hiss.
“Keith? I need you to wake up, bud.”
He shook his head, still buried in the blanket. Waking up meant light, and light hurt him.
There was a moment of silence, then Shiro spoke again, though this time not to Keith.
“Lights off.”
The lights made no sound, but he could tell from the diminishing of the yellow glow behind his eyelids that they’d disengaged.
“Come on, Keith.”
When he risked another glance, he was relieved to find the room once again plunged into darkness. Shiro was on his knees now, head tilted at an awkward angle to look under the bed and his arm stretched out underneath it, reaching for Keith.
Keith groaned when he realized that Shiro still wanted him to come out, but the man in question just waited, ever so frustratingly patient, until he gave up. Reluctantly, he wiggled and wormed his way back out, away from his warm little den. Thankfully Shiro wrapped an arm around him, almost making up for it.
He made another concerned, sad sound.
“You’re burning up.”
Keith said nothing. He merely leaned against Shiro’s shoulder, trying to escape from the chill that was encroaching now that he was out in the open. His stomach clenched at the feeling of open air at his back, and he mumbled something unintelligible to Shiro.
“I know, bud. Let’s get you checked out, ok?”
Keith made another noise. Whether negative or affirmative didn’t matter much, as Shiro stood regardless, pulling Keith up with him until he stood on his aching, trembling legs.
“We’ve talked about this before, otouto. You’re supposed to tell me when you’re feeling bad, not hide.”
Keith barely shrugged. If he’d had the energy he would’ve pointed out that Shiro had been gone for a long time, and the few times he’d gotten sick in the desert, how his only option had been to pop some cheap pills and hide from the world until it went away. But he didn’t, and Shiro began pulling him towards the door.
Keith followed easily enough, until the door slid open and the light smacked into him, making him recoil with another pained hiss.
“Close your eyes,” said Shiro, stroking Keith’s hair affectionately. “I’ll make sure we don’t run into anything.”
He did as he was told. The yellow glow that remained from the lights hurt a bit, but it was better than searing them completely.
Shiro led him down the hall. He was still in a bit of a daze, and he wasn’t sure how long it was before he heard the hiss of another door.
“Lights to thirty percent.”
Keith didn’t open his eyes, even as he was led over to a cold examination table, and Shiro didn’t try to make him.
“Coran will be here in a few minutes to check you over.”
He grumbled in protest, crossing his arms and squeezing to settle the first stirrings of panic. He wished Shiro could do it. He trusted Shiro.
“I know. I won’t go anywhere.”
Shiro helped him to sit on the examination table before moving behind. It made Keith feel a modicum better with someone covering his back, but now there was nothing to protect him in the front, so with great reluctance he forced his eyes open.
The lights were thankfully dim enough that the action only stung a little. They formed deep shadows in the nooks and crannies of the room, which Keith eyed with longing. To distract himself from the exposed positioning and the incoming examination, Keith imagined in great detail how nice it would be to retreat into them, to go to sleep and sleep all the discomfort away.
Behind him, Shiro squeezed his shoulders.
Keith flinched when the infirmary door opened, jarring him out of his fantasy. Coran strode in, his usual cheerful smile plastered on his lips, and if there was a shade of worry over it he was too out of it to tell.
“What seems to be the trouble?”
Shiro quietly rattled off a list of the symptoms he’d noticed. Coran nodded, and after a moment’s thought went to fetch something.
Keith’s attention was beginning to flag. He kept having to jerk his head up to keep from falling asleep right then and there.
Coran returned with his tablet, and while Shiro held him still, did a scan of Keith’s body.
He wasn’t paying much attention when Coran started to speak again. He heard the words, but couldn’t seem to make them process.
“He’s not ill. It seems Number Four here is suffering from some old fashioned exhaustion. A good rest will cheer him right up.”
Shiro’s voice as he thanked Coran disintegrated into static. But then he wrapped an arm around Keith again, and that pulled him back enough to hear his next words.
“Let’s get you into bed.”
This time, Keith went without a fight.