#sick!keith

Word Count: 724

Summary: Keith got food poisoning and is throwing his gut up. Lance takes care of him.

I like the author/editor concept, and well.. Here’s a drabble.

The red pen is gripped tightly in Keith’s hand. The words on the page before him are doubling and tripling, moving in hazy circles that have him blinking to clear his vision. Sweat slips from his temple, and a single drop falls onto the clipped papers he’s hunched over at Lance’s desk. His gaze slides toward it, and a slight frown tugs at the corners of his lips as he moves one hand to cover it just as Lance clears his throat.

“Um, Keith?”

Keith’s muscles go tense, and he whips his head up. Too fast, he thinks as the room sways. He swallows thickly and offers a sheepish grin that has Lance frowning and leaning forward.

“Are you okay? You’ve been on the first page of the chapter for thirty minutes now. Is it that bad--”

“No!” Keith shouts with a quick shake of his head. The movement brings the dull thump across his forehead to a bursting shock that shoots down his neck, webbing out across his limbs. He winces slightly and brings one hand to the back of his neck, ignoring the heat as he offers Lance a steady smile. “I’m just having trouble concentrating on editing because the story is very captivating.” He can hear the tremor in his voice, and he sets his pen down and moves his hands under the table to grip at his pants tightly.

Tilting his head, Lance trains a studied gaze to Keith, one that makes Keith feel as if he’s under a spotlight. Keith moves to drop his gaze because he knows how perceptive Lance can be, but Lance catches him with a concerned tone.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Your face is really red.”

One, quiet sigh slips from Keith’s pressed lips as he nods slowly. “Yes,” he answers, struggling to voice the air of confidence he’s known for. “It’s just hot in here,” he mutters, statement contrasting the thick cardigan he opted to keep on when he stepped into Lance’s apartment an hour ago. He slides his chair that’s pulled up to Lance’s desk back and gets to his feet with a muted gasp. The room is swirling, and he blinks quickly while releasing a shaky breath.

“I’m just going to get some water--”

“Let me,” Lance tries, hopping to his feet, but Keith waves him off with a slow shake of his head.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just be a moment.” Keith watches as Lance slowly sits back down with a frown before he turns and starts toward the small kitchen. Lance’s apartment isn’t very big, as he’s still starting out with a book that Keith is sure is going to kick off once it’s released. But, Keith likes the size, especially right now since walking has him panting, heart thumping loudly in his chest. He’s hot all over, from the tip of his head all the way to his toes, and he’s shaking as he reaches for a glass from the cupboard.

He glances up as he snags a glass, and the slow movement of bringing his gaze level to raised has his vision growing dark. He’s falling back, glass still in his hand, as the entire room fades to black.

*****

It’s the cool feeling of something damp being smoothed down his neck that has Keith prying heavy eyes open to see Lance hovering over him with soft eyes that quickly brighten along a color of relief.

“You’re awake.” Lance says as he sets the damp cloth aside to cup one of Keith’s cheeks. “You’re running a terrible fever. How are you feeling?”

Keith glances around the unfamiliar room as he allows Lance’s words to sink past his hazy mind. There are small paper rain drops hanging from a ceiling painted with dark grays and blues. There’s a bookshelf off to the side that’s littered with books and papers, and there’s a small table with a laptop on top close beside it. Keith pulls his focus to the warm comforter pulled over him, and then everything slides into place, enough to have him shooting up into a sitting position with a frown.

“I’m in your bedroom,” Keith rasps out in a panicked breath, ignoring the way Lance seems to duplicate right before his eyes as he moves to get out of bed, only to stop when Lance presses a warm palm against his chest.

“Keith, stop. It’s fine.” Lance urges as he works to push Keith back down against the pillows. “You passed out, and I brought you in here.”

“This is incredibly unprofessional,” Keith starts as he pushes against Lance’s hand and gets to his feet. The room tilts under his feet as he starts toward the door. “I’m sorry to have put you in this position. I’ll go--” He freezes, one hand gripping the door-frame, when Lance’s fingers curl into the back of his shirt.

“Keith, seriously,” Lance starts, moving in to press a hand to the small of Keith’s back. “It’s fine; you’re sick. I’m not going to make you walk home like this.”

“Editors can’t--” Keith tries as he slowly turns around to lock eyes with worried ones. “We can’t engage like this with authors. I could lose you as a client.”

“Engage like what?” Lance asks along a breath of disbelief. “You passed out, Keith. In my house. From a fever pushing 104 degrees. We aren’t engaging romantically; I’m just trying to keep you from a trip to the hospital.”

“Lance--”

“Take the couch if you want,” Lance presses, interrupting Keith with a deepening frown. “I don’t care, but you really need to sit down because you’re incredibly pale.”

Keith can feel what little burst of energy he had waning. His head is throbbing, and he’s faintly aware of his knees buckling. “Couch,” he breathes out, and Lance turns him around with a strong hand to his waist and leads him back into the living room. He helps Keith get settled on the couch before he leaves momentarily, returning with spare blankets from the closet that he takes extra care in tucking around Keith’s trembling form.

Keith loses a fighting battle on keeping his eyes open, but when a familiar cool feeling smooths over his forehead, he opens his eyes with a soft sigh to see Lance perched on the coffee table and leaning forward.

“You know you could have cancelled today.”

“I don’t like to cancel client appointments,” Keith mutters, and while this is true, Lance is different from previous clients. He’s oddly humble with his work, which is some of the best Keith has ever read. Lance’s words flow together to create a verbal painting that’s hooked Keith in since the first chapter. There’s a sense of grace to his writing, one that contradicts Lance’s almost clumsy nature, and it leaves Keith eager for more, so much that he showed up today despite feeling close to his worst.

“Well you should learn your limits,” Lance mutters as he gets to his feet, an unreadable expression flicking across his face. “I’m going to grab some water and some medicine. He steps out of sight and starts toward the kitchen when Keith sits up, pressing one hand to his forehead to keep the damp cloth in place as he looks over the back of the couch.

“Lance.”

Lance glances over his shoulder with a hint of a frown. “Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Keith starts. “For this, for everything. I didn’t mean-- I’m sorry to burden you.”

@vldwhumpmas2017

Keith coughed and his lungs rattled. He felt like he was dying. He coughed and coughed, feeling like his lungs were on fire. Lance wasn’t home at the moment because he was still getting back from his classes, so Keith was left to fend for himself while the coughing fit continued.

Keith shouldn’t have been surprised he caught Lance’s cough; he’d been coughing all day yesterday and the day before. But Keith just felt... different. He was exhausted and hot, and he didn’t want to eat anything. His coughing fit died down as Lance walked in.

“Oh, hey, Lance-“ Keith started, but stopped when Lance raised his hand. Lance rubbed his eyes and Keith could see the fatigue in his face. He looked drained.

“Go to sleep, babe. I’ll be up in a few.” Keith said, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist. Lance nodded and yawned tiredly, kissed Keith’s cheek, then went upstairs to sleep. He would feel less exhausted once he closed his eyes.

...

Yeah, that good nights rest thing doesn’t exist. Lance had only been asleep for three hours when he heard the sound of Keith’s coughing fit from downstairs. He thought he would be okay, but then he heard a loud thud and Lance literally jumped out of bed and raced downstairs. He was worried because Keith had really bad asthma, and he didn’t want to risk Keith another trip to the hospital because Lance didn’t notice how bad his cough was getting. Lance walked into the kitchen to see Keith on the floor, one arm covering his mouth, his other hand holding his chest.

“Shit...” Lance said. He sat next to Keith and rubbed his back through the fit, pulling the inhaler out of his pocket that he kept in his Jacket. Lance had fallen asleep in his clothes again, and it was a good thing too, otherwise he would’ve had to leave Keith alone for a moment to get the inhaler, and that could’ve put Keith at a bigger risk.

“Here.” Lance said as Keith’s fit died down, handing him the inhaler. Keith shook his head.

“-feel s-sick...” he muttered. Keith looked like the energy was just sucked out of him; his cheeks were bright red and his eyes were glossy. Lance pressed a hand against Keith’s forehead and Keith moved into it, moaning softly. That was really unlike Keith. Lance’s hand burned against Keith’s hot skin.

“Keith, you’re burning up.” He said. Keith got up and started saying,

“I’m fine,” but he swayed and started collapsing.

“Oh shit-!“ Lance caught Keith just before he hit the floor. Lance quickly picked him up and placed him to the couch, quickly running to get a thermometer and cough medicine. He poked Keith’s lip with the tip of the Thermometer, but Keith wouldn’t open his mouth.

“Keith, you need to open your mouth for me. Please. I don’t want you to get so bad we have to go to the hospital again.” Lance said quietly. Keith groaned and moved his mouth so Lance could stick the thermometer in it.

“Thank you.” Lance said as he placed the tip under Keith’s tongue. Moments later, it beeped and Lance read, ‘104.9’

“Crap. Keith, you’re burning up.” Lance muttered. Keith groaned and shifted to his side, only to go back into a terrible coughing fit. Lance ran to the medicine cabinet and rummaged through a box of different medications, looking for some cough medicine and some fever reducers. He found the fever reducers, but he couldn’t find any actual cough medicine other than throat drops, so he decided a trip to the doctor was necessary. He came back over to Keith to find him coughing harshly. Lance brought Keith up and rubbed his back as the fit continued for a good five or ten minutes. Lance was extremely worried when Keith started turning a little blue.

“Okay, that’s it. Hospital. Now.”

—————————

Keith laid in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask on his face. His skin was still slightly paled, but he looked better nonetheless. His eyes had dark circles from exhaustion, and his cheeks were tinted pink, but he still looked better. The doctor walked back in and Lance was sitting on a chair near Keith. He had bright orange hair that was shaped into a retro mullet (much different than Keith’s), and he had a big mustache to match it. He also had small, light blue boomerang like tattoos under his eyes, like Allura, Shiro’s transfer friend from Altea University, did, although hers were pink.

“Thank you for bringing Keith in,” the doctor said. “He has a case of Pneumonia, but his asthma made it worsen. You were lucky to have brought him in when you did, otherwise we’d be looking at something much more serious.” He said. Lance nodded in response.

“Thank you, Doctor... Curain?” Lance butchered the doctors name.

“Coran. Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.” He smiled. He placed a bottle of medicine on the table next to Keith and started walking out the door, but stopped momentarily. “Y’know, ya might want to do a better job of hiding that box, chap.” He said as he exited the room. Lance’s face turned bright red and he looked in his pocket to see the box bulging out. He knew he should’ve done a better job of hiding it. He sighed and pulled out the box, which had a small ring inside of it. He closed it gently and sighed, stuffing it back into his pocket. He looked over to Keith, who was still sleeping soundly.

“Please get better, baby.” He said as he rubbed Keith’s hand. Keith had to get better, he just had to.

A sick boy

I’m one of those Voltron fans who has WAY too many headcannon and scenario ideas. Often times I think of my Voltron babes getting sick, and how the other paladins would take care of them. Here’s mine for Keith:

First off- Keith would probably die alone if he didn’t have the others. He’d probably ignore his illness and fight through the pain. Without the rest of the team at his aid, I imagine he’d go on training and try to tough his way out of being sick. Sorry Keefy, it doesn’t work that way.

Shiro: Keith listens to Shiro, so he’d be the first to tell him he needs to take it easy. He’d help with making sure he’s comfortable and gets what he needs like extra blankets and such. 

Pidge: She would be responsible for taking his temperature and pinpointing his physical needs. She’d fetch any medicine he may have to take and make sure he takes it!

Hunk: He’d be the amazing comfort food chef. Hunk would serve up the tastiest soups and other soft foods. He’d even make sure to serve every drink with a bendy straw. Liquids are important when you’re sick!

Lance: Lance would provide his best company, cheering Keith up with jokes that hopefully don’t suck, and telling him stories about when he had gotten sick in the past. He’d help with all the extra little things like fluffing pillows making sure he’s not too hot/cold.

Winter is right around the corner! Get your flu shots! Wear a coat! Wash your hands! I hope everyone has a safe and healthy winter time! ️️

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Voltron Amino:http://aminoapps.com/p/rs2088  

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCW2Y0628R5qWfm39FP5j95Q

ficlet for anon requesting klance and sick!Keith in space <3 (I always imagine that 99% of the time Keith never never never wants anyone to know he’s sick. ...and then 1% of the time he just wants a hug :’3) I hope you enjoy! ♡

Keith’s standing in Lance’s doorway, suited head to toe in his paladin armor, helmet under his arm and bayard in hand.

“Hey,” Keith says after a second, Lance is still blinking, half his hair squashed to his cheek.

“Hi?” Lance says blurrily, squints at his chest and realises his nightshirt is on the wrong way. When Keith only returns a regretful sort of grimace, Lance’s eyes suddenly widen.

“Oh quiznak, it’s another drill isn’t it,” says Lance, scoots out into the passage to make up for lost time. “Man, I’m sorry, I must’ve slept right-”

“No, no-” Keith says quickly, holds up both hands before Lance can sprint to his lion. “No drill. I. Uh. I was going to hit the training deck.”

Lance scuffs a fist to one eye, Keith slightly more in-focus now.

“-and. I. Was just going to ask if you wanted to come with,” Keith ventures, slouches against the wall and then straightens again.

Lance stares at him a moment, waiting, he can’t help a lopsided grin.

“At… four in the morning?” Lance teases, expecting some snappy comeback about it always being four in the morning when it comes to training vs. Lance’s beauty-sleep. In truth Lance doesn’t mind, and who knows which planet’s timezone his phone is set to anyway.

Keith breathes out a laugh, offers a half-shrug.

“Yeah,” Keith says awkwardly, then grazes his nose against his wrist, twitches closed an eye. “Right. Sorry, yeah. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll, uh-”

He shifts his helmet beneath his opposite arm, looks as if he’s going to say more. Lance is about to take a step forward when Keith abruptly raises his hand, ducks behind his wrist and sneezes, his armor not doing much to dampen the harshness of the sound. Lance’s eyebrows hitch in concern- it’s a toss up between bless you or yikes-that-sounds-like-it-hurt??- when Keith gives a small shake of head, cups his hand more firmly over the lower half of his face.

“-sorry-” Keith says, muffled, his voice caught and wavering as he inhales. Lance flinches in surprise as Keith snaps forward with another sneeze, his chest thrown toward his waist and hair flopped messily over his eyes. Keith sniffles, blinking and watery as he comes back up for air, he wipes his nose against the heel of his hand and clears his throat.

“Um, are you sure you wanna hit the training deck?” Lance says after a moment, laughs to try and make Keith feel less self-conscious. “Maybe you should hit up some tea and honey in the kitchen instead? Or take a swing at a nice relaxing Altean hot pool? Just saying, you sound kinda-”

“No I’m good-” Keith interrupts, his expression pulling uneven as he tries not to cough. Lance wants to pat him on the back, but Keith is blushing hard enough as it is, and he has a feeling that’ll just make it worse.

“-unless you want to get tea?-” Keith manages, his eyes tearing as he holds his breath. “-or feel like going swimming?”

Lance doesn’t have a chance to answer before Keith shakes his head in despair, turns away and coughs desperately into his arm. Lance winces in sympathy, then reaches a hand to Keith’s shoulder to steady him. Even through the paladin suit, Lance can feel Keith shivering.

“So, laps in the pool?” Keith says weakly. His voice sounds low and husky, far more congested for the outburst.

Lance gently tugs Keith round to face him, then touches the back of his fingers to Keith’s brow. For a half-second Keith looks almost bewildered, as if he doesn’t know what to make of the gesture, or that Lance might suddenly pull away.

“Keith,” says Lance, softly because he’s nervous too. “Can I make another suggestion? And like, if it’s a really stupid one, we can both just pretend I never said it?”

Keith sniffles wetly again, then nods, just once.

“Do you maybe want to come-in instead? And I can lend you a t-shirt, or just, uh- something that isn’t full-body armor- and we can maybe just take it easy? Or take a nap? Or cuddle, or something?”

Lance holds out his arms, hoping that last part will at least make Keith smile. As much as Lance could use a Keith-hug, he knows Keith well enough to know that when he’s sick, the very, very last thing he ever wants is to do is-

“Can I?” Keith asks croakily, and Lance must look as astonished as he feels, because Keith gives a small, stiff sort of shrug, raises his arms ever so slightly as Lance stares.

“C’mere,” Lance mumbles, his smile squashed into Keith’s shoulder as Keith lets his face droop against Lance’s neck. And then, though Keith knows Lance well enough that he doesn’t need to say it either, Lance wraps his arms tighter, closes his eyes and rests his cheek to Keith’s.

Voltron Whump Week Day 2 - Hypothermia 

Later that day:

here you go anon! Hope you likey

Sooo I’m trying to particupate in Sickdays 3.0 but i’m reeeeeeally insecure. I was gonna write a casual drabble for the 29th prompt (basically alternative and/or questionable remedies) and somehow it’s turned into a five page Keith whump and angst-fest. But I’m mid-writing and super disheartened and unsure how to end it? So here’s a tiny portion of it. Does anyone think this is any good at all? If so, please let me know because it will literally be my first ever sickfic posted and I’m soooo scared. Feedback would be really, really appreciated? Because I want to post the full thing on Saturday but idk i’m scared? 

Warning: pretty graphic descriptions of vomit 

~read the warning plzzzz~

He can barely see now that he’s up here because his head is pounding and he feels like he’s just spinning. but being off the ground and spinning around is making his stomach roll. He can’t see and he isn’t even sure why but everything is a horrid neon colored blur and he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t figure out what to do.

“Keith, what’s the matter?” he hears Lance ask him in a much too panicked voice, and next thing he knows, vomit is gushing up and out from his mouth. 

With zero warning and one violent gag, a massive wave of vomit bursts up his throat and fills his mouth so suddenly that his it just sort of falls open. He’s spinning so hard he can’t see anything but a whoosh of purple but he feels it as it gushes down his face and all down the front of his chest. Mortified and panicked, he tries to lean forward to at least aim for a retch at the floor but he can’t tell where his body is anymore and he gets about a half a second before another wave is rushing out. 

It’s all liquid, hot, sticky and purple, so it quite literally bubbles up out of his throat and cascades down his body as Keith turns his head around, trying to lean down, but succeeding in spinning his dizzy head around so it’s all over his shirt. 

It won’t stop. 

He realizes this when the next gag comes and he starts to choke and his vision grows dark around the edges. He doesn’t know where he is anymore, if he’s still up on the weird cloud chair and raining puke down on the party guests but everything hurts so much he can’t register any of it. 

And then suddenly, everything pitches violently sideways, Keith tries not to tumble over on his side, but something stops him and lurches him back into place. As the next wave of vomit comes it doesn’t go all over his chest. 

“Okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you, we don’t want you to choke.” 

And then he begins to register the sound of shrieks of terror and disgust. He can’t see clearly; everything’s still looking like the view from a tilt-a-whirl but he can tell that it’s the Alonians, scattering away from him in horror. When he looks down at himself and everything in his close vicinity, all he sees is purple, which he knows is his own mess and it’s everywhere.

“Jesus, Keith, what did you have?” 

Keith tries to reply, but he’s cut off by a retch that’s violent and loud now, rather than the violent rush. He brings up one last mouthful of burning and sour liquid that burns his throat and up his nose. This throws him into a round of dry heaving that shakes his entire body as he hiccups and pants, stomach now empty but his body still very, very upset.

As he heaves and drools, the spinning slows down and his vision shifts into clarity more and more. He regains consciousness of his body again, only to be taken over by painful retches rather than uncontrollable spouts of vomit. He can’t decide which is worse because before it didn’t hurt. 

And now it really, really does. Every retch makes his head feel like he’s being stabbed, makes his throat and nose sting, and his entire torso ache. It all hurts so much—Keith has been stabbed, has walked on broken bones, has fallen down flights of stairs but this hurts worse. 

As he heaves uselessly over the floor, the painful thought flits through his head: 

I want Shiro. 

He never likes to admit to himself how much comfort he took in Shiro’s steady presence, his sometimes overbearing but good-natured concern and care. Keith depended on it, knew that no matter how often he rejected it, Shiro’s support would be there when Keith needed it.