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Lance hates being sick.
Being sick is the worst because fevers and runny noses and nausea and hacking coughs and headaches and body aches. Not only does Lance feel terrible, but he hates how weak it makes him feel. He doesn't have the energy to get up and do anything, so he just lies on his couch and feels miserable as dirty dishes and wadded up tissues collect on his coffee table.
The worst part about this stupid summer cold that popped up out of nowhere is the fact that Lance had plans with Keith. They were supposed to go on a really nice date for their anniversary, and Lance had to cancel because he couldn't breathe properly.
So yeah.
Being sick is the worst.
He's lying on his couch contemplating this as a Disney movie plays in the background when someone knocks on his door.
Because of the aforementioned lack of energy, Lance ignores the door. It’s probably someone who has the wrong number, and he is just too damn tired to get up and tell them they’re at the wrong unit.
But they knock again.
“Lance?” someone calls through the door. “Open up. It’s me.”
Lance finally places the voice.
Keith.
As quickly as he can, he moves to the door with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a tissue wadded up in his hand. He unlocks and opens the door.
And there stands his perfect boyfriend. He’s in those stupid ass yoga pants and that stupid crop top that he wears sometimes and his hair is pulled back into a ponytail and he’s holding a couple of bags, and he looks incredible. Wonderful. Like every single thing Lance has ever wanted in his life.
“Keith?” he says. “What’re you doing here?”
“Taking care of you,” Keith replies, like it’s the most obvious answer. “Can I come in?”
Lance steps aside to let him in and closes the door behind him. Once that’s done, he immediately crowds into Keith’s space and tucks his face into his favorite place on Keith’s neck.
“You’re gonna get sick,” he moans.
“Nah,” his boyfriend replies softly, as he brings a hand up to run his fingers through Lance’s greasy hair. “I’ve got an iron will, baby.”
Lance chuckles, which makes his chest rattle. He pulls back and tucks his head under his blanket to have a coughing fit.
When it finally subsides, he whines loudly. “I feel bad, Keith,” he says, exhausted and worn out.
Keith, bless him, leans forward and places a sweet kiss on his forehead. “I know, honey,” he says. “Go lay on the couch. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
Lance nods and stumbles his way to the couch. He falls sideways on it and brings the blanket up to cover his shivering shoulders. Almost as soon as he’s horizontal, he starts to drift to sleep with the sounds of Keith puttering in his kitchen washing over him in calming waves.
After what feels like minutes, Keith finally rouses him with a gentle hand to his forehead.
Lance slowly blinks his eyes open and sees Keith crouched by his face in front of the couch. He doesn’t see the pile of tissues or horde of empty cups, so Keith must have picked up. He’s too sweet to Lance.
“Hi,” he finally says, voice scratchy.
“Hi,” Keith replies as he carefully runs his fingers through Lance’s hair again. “I threw your sheets in the wash and remade your bed with fresh sheets. There’s also plenty of tissues with lotion in them since I know you hate how dry regular tissues make your face. I also brought some more of that cough medicine that doesn’t taste terrible and some fast-release ibuprofen. Oh, and there’s some of that iced green tea you like and Tom Kha soup from the good Thai place.”
When Keith finally finishes his list, Lance is so overwhelmed with being sick and how kind his boyfriend is that he feels tears well in his eyes.
“Lance?” Keith asks, concerned at seeing tears. “What hurts, baby?”
“Everything,” Lance whines, tears finally spilling. “But, I’m not crying because of that.” He sniffles and tries to wipe his tears away, but more keep falling.
“Then why are you crying?” Keith asks.
“Because you’re so sweet to me,” he says as the tears keep coming.
“Oh, Lance,” Keith says. He crawls up on the couch next to Lance and carefully lifts his head so he can slide under him. Once he’s settled, he carefully places Lance’s head in his lap and continues running his fingers through his hair. “You’re okay, babe. You’re okay.”
Lance cries for a few more minutes before he finally calms down under Keith’s careful ministrations.
“Feel better?” Keith asks.
Lance nods.
“Do you need anything?” Keith continues.
“Not right now,” Lance replies. “Just cuddle me.”
“Okay, I can do that,” Keith says before reaching over and grabbing the remote. He starts the movie over, knowing Lance slept through most of it. “Rest, baby. Okay? I got you.”
“Okay,” Lance replies because he knows Keith’s got him.