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“How you holding up there, bud?” Shiro asked as he approached the couch, bowl of soup in hand.
Keith let out a little sniff and poked the top of his head out from under the scratchy blanket. His hair was in disarray, his nose was red and stood out glaringly against his pasty, sweaty face, and the look in his tired eyes was murderous. “How do you think?” he snapped.
“Well, I mean, I figured you’re still sick,” Shiro said. “But are you better, worse, or the same as last time I asked?”
Keith thought for a moment before grunting out, “Same.”
Shiro nodded sympathetically. “I hear you. Flu’s never fun.” He set the bowl of soup on the coffee table in front of him, glancing down at the old mixing bowl that was on the floor beside Keith. It was still empty, which meant Keith hadn’t thrown up, but Shiro didn’t know if that was because his nausea had finally settled, or if there was just nothing left in him to puke. “Whenever you’re ready to eat something, I’ve got some chicken noodle here for you, and we can microwave it if it gets too cold.”
Keith groaned and ducked back under his blanket. “Don’t talk about food,” he mumbled. “I’m never eating again for the rest of my life.”
Shiro let out a dry laugh, but he felt Keith’s pain. After all, last week, he had been the one lying here on the couch in the throes of a particularly bad strain of the flu. Adam had gotten it even before him, and the moment his symptoms started popping up, Shiro had kept his distance from Keith and limited their interactions only to text messages and video calls, figuring that the virus would be hitting him next and not wanting the young cadet to catch it from him.
It probably would have worked out too if the flu hadn’t somehow snuck its way into one of the other cadets in Keith’s flight class. Now, half of the fighter pilot trainees were out sick, and of course, Keith was one of them. At least Shiro’s own flu had already come and gone, and he could now take care of Keith without having to worry about catching it again.
Keith had insisted that it wasn’t necessary, that he could stay in the infirmary or get medicine from the nurse and hibernate in his dorm like a few of the other cadets were doing, but Shiro wouldn’t hear of it. He was more than aware of how often in the past Keith was left to fend for himself in times of poor health – something he had learned after the first time Keith had insisted on patching up his own injuries after a hoverbike wipeout – and he wasn’t about to let him endure that again on his watch.
So, they’d packed up a couple of toiletries and changes of clothes for Keith, and Shiro had brought him to his and Adam’s apartment to ride the flu out.
Keith, of course, was getting no end of frustration out of the illness, and Shiro could certainly understand why. The boy prided himself on his independence and hardiness, both which were in short supply when he was spending the day lying on the couch, moaning and vomiting during the spurts of time when he was awake, with barely enough strength to sit up.
At least his fever had finally broken earlier that day. It had peaked the day prior at a hundred and two point nine degrees, leaving Keith burning up and even hallucinating, mumbling nonsense about the weird paintings on the apartment’s ceiling, rolling off the couch and trying to crawl out the door in order to start hunting down his missing pet frogs, and angrily demanding that Shiro stop floating in the air because it was freaking him out.
Now, after the break, Keith back to his usual self, albeit ten times as grumpy and with a painfully empty stomach. Not to mention the fever chills that sometimes accompanied a fever breaking. Keith tried to hide it, but Shiro knew that he was shivering under that heavy blanket.
“You sure you don’t want the soup now?” he asked. “It’ll warm you up.”
“Not hungry,” Keith mumbled.
“In that case, you want me to grab another blanket for you?”
“Unh-uh,” he said, and Shiro could see the shape of his head shaking where it was buried under the blanket.
“Keith,” Shiro sighed. “I know that you’re feeling cold right now. You don’t need to hide it.”
“I’m fine,” Keith said.
Shiro rolled his eyes. In Keith-speak, ‘I’m fine’ could mean anything from ‘I am actually fine’ to ‘I am standing on death’s door as we speak and you’re going to need a bigger mop for all this blood.’ Basically, it was a terribly inaccurate method of determining how Keith was actually faring, but right now, Shiro could figure out a rough translation: he was feeling crappy but didn’t want to ask for help and appear weak.
“All right,” Shiro said slowly. “That’s good. Well, as long as you’re feeling fine, do you mind if I watch TV in here?”
“Uh,” Keith said, “Sure, I guess?”
Shiro grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and turned on their streaming service, looking for something quiet and dull, but not so much so that Keith would pick up that Shiro wasn’t actually interested in watching the TV. He ended up settling on a nature documentary series, selecting an episode about fish and turning the volume down.
“Okay, scoot over,” he said as the episode started to play.
“Hm?” said Keith, pulling his blanket down far enough to blink up at Shiro in confusion.
“Your head’s in my favorite TV-watching spot,” said Shiro. “You’re feeling fine, so you’d be all right to sit up for a bit, right?”
“… Yeah. ‘Course.” Keith managed to bring himself to a sitting position and shuffled over to make room for Shiro, who plopped down onto the vacated cushion with a satisfied sigh.
As the documentary played, Shiro made sure to keep one eye on Keith, who blinked sleepily at the screen and hugged the blanket closely around him. Shiro draped his arm over the top of the couch, and every minute or so, he would adjust himself, inching just a little bit closer to Keith.
So when the fatigue finally got the best of Keith and his eyes drifted closed as he flopped back to sleep, Shiro was ready for him. He caught him in time to tilt Keith toward himself, and Keith fell against Shiro, his slumbering breaths just a little raspy from the dryness that the flu had left him with.
Shiro now could easily feel the shivers that had overtaken Keith’s body, and he pulled the boy closer, letting his head drop onto Shiro’s opposite shoulder and wrapping his own arm all the way across his body. He brought his hand under the blanket to rub some warmth up and down Keith’s goosebump-covered arm, and in his sleep Keith nestled closer, tucking his head into Shiro’s chest and looking half his actual age as he slept.
Shiro smiled. It had worked; if Keith wasn’t going to bite for any other method of warming up, then good old-fashioned sharing of body heat would have to do.
It seemed to be working, as Keith’s shivering ever so gradually began to die down, until he was finally resting peacefully, wrapped in Shiro’s arms.
And Shiro wasn’t sure when exactly he had fallen asleep as well, but one moment he was slumped on the couch, snuggled with Keith, and the next, the apartment had darkened and he was awakened by the sound of the apartment door opening.
He was quick to shush the newcomer, bringing a finger to his lips as Adam approached, tilting his head as he examined the scene. “He’s sleeping,” Shiro whispered unnecessarily.
“I can see that,” Adam whispered back.
“His fever broke. He was pretending he wasn’t cold, but…”
“Yeah, you know Keith better than that. I’ll leave you two in peace.”
“Thanks,” Shiro whispered, letting his eyes fall shut again and relaxing back against the couch as Adam left the room. Keith squirmed a little bit in his sleep, but didn’t rouse, instead staying where he was, practically right on top of Shiro.
It was a surprisingly cozy position, and soon Shiro was once again fast asleep, so quickly he wasn’t even able to notice Adam returning a minute later with a camera to capture the moment.