#voltronwhumpweek2017

Four days before mid-terms, he wakes with a headache, something familiar to him but slightly concerning all the same. It’s not bad, he thinks as he forces protesting to muscles to move into a sitting position. A slight throb bleeding out from his temples and spreading across his forehead.  Some ibuprofen will most likely clear this up, he tells himself as he swings his legs over his small dorm bed. 

He gets to his feet and moves through the motions of getting ready for class as if on autopilot. His movements, he notes, are slightly sluggish, but whose wouldn’t be after only having three hours of sleep? He slips on a long-sleeve black shirt to fight the creeping chill of fall and pairs this with some grey sweats and his black boots. 

One look at his reflection from his small wall mirror shows a pale, sunken face with cheeks tinged slightly red. With a frown, he presses the back of one hand to his cheek, focusing on the slight heat that warms his chilled hand. His mind supplies fever in an instance, but he shuts this idea down as he tugs his hair up into some excuse of a ponytail. He did just wake up after all. His skin is probably still warm from sleep. 

He turns away, no longer wishing to look at his poor reflection, and shoves the books littering his small desk into his backpack. On his way out, he grabs the ibuprofen bottle and slips into a side pocket of his backpack before leaving his dorm. 

*****

The walk to class is only a five-minute walk across the campus Green and down two sidewalks, but it feels like ten years to Keith. Regret is his baseball jacket still draped across his desk chair in his dorm. His meager shirt does nothing to protect him from the biting wind carrying traces of a possible early winter, and he wraps his arms around his trembling frame and quickens his pace. 

By the time he stumbles into his classroom, his teeth are chattering, and the small headache from before is rapidly shifting to mirror the feeling of a jackhammer against his skull. He slides into his seat, wishing he snagged a granola bar from the shelf in his room before he left so he could take the ibuprofen now. But, his hazy mind doesn’t appear to be working in his favor, so he’s going to have to fight against this slamming headache until after class. 

He’s just reassuring himself that he can manage when Lance McClain walks into the room, all bronze skin and long limbs and loud voice shouting toward someone in the hall, most likely someone from his swim team. 

Lance’s voice grates against Keith’s already pounding head, and he drops his heated forehead onto his desk with a low groan just as Lance slips into the seat beside him. 

“Long night?” 

Keith sighs, shifting his head until his cheek is pressed against the desk with his eyes facing Lance. The desk’s surface feels heavenly against his warm cheek, but he’s still shaking hard. He wraps his arms around himself just as Lance arches a brow at him. 

“Are you okay?” 

Dark blue eyes lock onto Keith’s heavy-lidded ones, and Keith hums in a non-verbal form of an answer that Lance doesn’t accept in the slightest. 

“You’re shaking,” Lance presses, leaning forward enough that Keith sighs louder and sits up, wincing as the slight movement punctuates his throbbing head. 

“It’s cold outside.” 

“We’re inside.” 

Keith snaps a sharp gaze toward the brunet. “Well, I’m still cold.” He spits out before turning his gaze back to the front of the room just as the teacher walks in. Thankfully, Lance drops the subject matter, and Keith lays out his books across his desk just as the teacher starts talking. 

He’s not sure when, but sometime during the three hour lecture, he falls asleep with his head pillowed on his arms after telling himself to just rest his eyes for a moment. It’s only when he’s being shaken awake that he realizes the class is over, and Lance is crouched beside his desk with a deep frown. 

“Why’re you still here?” Keith asks, voice rasping slightly, as he sits up. 

“Keith, I think you should go back to your dorm and rest.” Lance says in lieu of response, and Keith matches the brunet’s frown. 

“I can’t miss class.” Keith says, but when he tries to slide out of his seat, Lance stops him with a cool hand to his forehead. 

Lance hisses sharply and pulls his hand away. “You’re burning up! You need to go rest.” 

Keith swats Lance’s hand away and gets to his feet, but the second he’s standing, the heaviness weighing him down shifts to a floating feeling. He blinks, once, twice, but with each fall and rise of his eyelids, the room sways more. 

He’s not aware that he’s falling until he’s pressed against Lance’s toned chest. Damn swimmers. 

“Woah, Keith!” 

At this, Keith winces and shoves weakly away from Lance. “I’m fine,” he says. 

“You’re not.” 

“Well, I have class,” Keith fires back against chattering teeth. Fuck, he thinks. Why can’t he get warm? 

“You’re at the top of every class.” 

“I have practice.” 

Lance sighs. “You’re the most popular choice for captain next year. I’m pretty sure the team will live if you miss a practice.” 

Keith wants to ask why Lance knows all this, but his head hurts too badly to move further on this. “I have work,” is what he opts to say instead as he reaches for his backpack. He’s got one hand wrapped around one strap, and Lance reaches over to snag the other strap. 

“Call out.” Lance says firmly before his face falls into a clear expression of worry. “Keith, you’re running a nasty fever, you’re shivering, and you just almost passed out. You need rest.” 

Keith wants to fight back, but his body betrays his need to be successful, and next thing he knows, Lance is draping his swimmer’s jacket over his shoulders and guiding him out of the room with a steady hand to his back. 

When the two step outside, Keith instantly moves to pull Lance’s jacket closer to him, and Lance responds be pausing long enough to zip the jacket up for Keith before snaking an arm around Keith’s waist as the two start the slow trek back to Keith’s dorm. 

The entire walk, Keith is inwardly cursing himself for this happening. He’d been careful, but not enough, and now he’s going to miss a full day because of it. But, he can’t deny the exhaustion settled across his trembling limbs, nor can he deny his throbbing head that has him squinting. 

When they finally reach his dorm, Lance helps him inside with a low whistle. 

“How did you get a dorm to yourself?” 

“I don’t do roommates,” Keith mutters as he stumbles toward his bed. 

“What does that even mean?” Lance questions as he snags a bottled water from Keith’s mini fridge before running a wash cloth under the small sink in the poor attempts at dorm kitchens this college supplies. 

Keith drops down onto the edge of his bed and fights against swimming vision to slip his boots off. “It means people don’t like me,” he spits out, voice sharp, piercing. “Can we stop with the questions now?” He adds as he buries himself under his blankets, still in Lance’s jacket. 

Lance stays silent, and Keith’s eyes flutter closed, only to snap back open when something cold drapes across his forehead. “Go to class, Lance,” Keith groans, not wanting to tell Lance how amazing this cloth feels on his heated forehead. 

“Shouldn’t I stay in case you need help? Your fever seems really bad, Keith.” 

“I’ll be fine with sleep,” Keith mutters, eyes already falling closed once more. He hears Lance place the bottled water on the night stand, and moments later, he hears the familiar creak of his desk chair. 

“You aren’t leaving,” Keith mutters against chattering teeth. 

“Nope,” Lance says, popping the ‘p’. 

They had been fighting the Galra for the liberty of a planet and a battle had broken out right over a large city. The Piylens were a very collectivist people and they all lived together in huge communities. They were a tall people; with skin that was reddish and more reptilian in nature. They had bright, golden eyes that Lance had remarked on several times. The team had only known the Piylens for a few days, but they had already formed a strong bond with them.

Lance had been evacuating some civilians to an underground bunker. He was supposed to join the fight with Blue, but he just needed to be sure everyone was out. There had been a lot of families to move. He couldn't risk leaving anyone behind.

He didn't remember what had happened exactly, but he assumed the building he had been searching through was hit with a bomb blast.

Lance activated his full face shield and greedily gulped in oxygen. It was a relief, though it didn't seem to be working as effectively as usual. His helmet was most likely broken and air was escaping through a crack somewhere.

His armor was still glowing faintly, giving his surroundings a blue tinge. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot to see. Rocks pressed in all around him. His left arm, chest and face were free, but his right arm just disappeared under the boulder that pressed into his shoulder. His legs were stuck and he couldn't sit up at all to see what had happened there. All he knew was that he couldn't move his lower half.

Lance feebly tried to push the rock off his shoulder. It didn't budge. His bayard was... somewhere. Lost under the rubble. Fear of the apparent hopelessness of the situation crept into his mind. This wasn't looking good. He couldn't see how bad it was. What if his arm was completely crushed? What if it wasn't even there?

With all of his might, Lance scrabbled at the rock, trying to lift it just a fraction of an inch. He reached back behind his shoulder as best he could. Maybe he could remove debris from underneath his arm and that would give him the space to move. His hand slipped, fingers sliding futilely over his armor.

Lance pulled his hand back; saw the dark that now coated his fingertips.

Blood.

His fingers were slick with his own blood.

Lance felt like his oxygen supply stopped working all at once.

Lance turned, tried to see where the blood was coming from. He then realized that he could feel a dampness creeping along his shoulder blade, settling in the middle of his back. Blood was pooling inside his armor, draining out of him and soaking his skin.

Lance fought back a wave of nausea.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

The others would come for him. They knew where he was.

Right?

Lance recalled Shiro shouting at him to get to his Lion. Lance had agreed, but then he had turned and he saw fear and confusion amongst the people. So he ran in the opposite direction of Blue. Trying to make sure everyone had gotten out. He knew there was an area nearby where kids played, so he had run there. That must have been when everything had come down around him.

They didn't know where he was.

"Shiro? You copy?" Lance's voice shook. "Shiro? Hunk?" Lance swallowed down the sick feeling climbing up his throat. "Pidge? Keith?"

There was only static that answered him.

"Anyone hear me?" Lance choked out. Tears had formed in his eyes long ago and they now began slipping out of the corners of his eyes and into his hairline. Stay calm. They will come for you. They won't leave you. Lance repeated the words to himself over and over. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

Lance's mind wandered to his Lion. They would notice he was missing when Blue didn't join the fight at least. They must have figured out something was wrong by now. Maybe Blue would come for him. She might accidentally crush him completely when she tried to free him, but at least he wouldn't be alone.

Lance felt cold. Cold and sick and so tired now.

"Shiro?" Lance forced out. Hoping it would work this time. There was a buzzing and a click noise before the com went entirely quiet. Lance listened to the heavy silence. There was so much pain now that he wished he would just pass out again. Maybe he would. Just close his eyes and drift away… there… it didn't hurt so much now.

A sound through the rubble caught his ears. He screwed up his face in confusion. What was that? It was faint and it sounded like garbled laughing.

"He-he-hello?" Lance stammered. The noise grew a little bit louder.

Crying.

Someone was crying close by.

Oh.

"H-hey, can you hear me?" Lance strained to speak as loudly as he could. He struggled to pull enough air into his lungs to speak. "Hello? Someone there?"

The crying halted and then the smallest voice sounded in the dark.

"I'm h-h-he-here." There was a gasping breath and the crying continued.

That was a little kid. There was a little kid stuck under here with him somewhere.

"Okay. H-hey, it's okay." Lance fought hard to keep his voice even.

"Dark!" The child wailed.

"Oh, I know, but it's okay. Just take a deep belly breath, alright?"

Lance paused and listened as the crying noises abated. He wished he could tell where the child was, he didn't know where he should be pitching his voice.

"It's going to be okay. My name is Lance. I'm a paladin of Voltron, what's your name?"

"Rai."

"Yeah? Okay. Rai, are you hurt? Can you move at all?"

"My foot is stuck!" Rai began crying on the last word and Lance winced at the sound.

"Hey, hey," Lance felt so cold now. "Don't cry. Look do you see any light around? Maybe some light from outside?"

There was a long pause where the crying tapered off again.

"There's a little light."

"Yeah? Can you reach it at all?"

"Maybe..." There was a pause and a scuffling noise. "Got my foot out." The boy sounded pleased with himself. "Took my boot off."

"That's good," Lance remarked absently. At least one of them could move. "Can you get to the light?"

Maybe the kid could get out and go for help.

"Yes." There was the sound of rock shifting and suddenly the stones beside Lance moved and rolled from their precarious position. Startled, Lance gasped and stared as golden eyes peered at him through the dark. Oh, that's where the kid was.

"You're a light!" Rai exclaimed. Lance mentally swore and he forced himself to not look completely broken over this turn of events.

The boy inched forward until he could delicately move his fingers along Lance's armor. The soft, blue light lit up the boy's face. Besides a few scrapes, this kid didn't appear to be hurt. Lance felt the last of his energy starting to drain, he hoped the boy wouldn't see the blood.

"You glow up," the child murmured, studying Lance's armor closely. Lance grimaced at the way he phrased it. It sounded too much like ‘blow up.’ Which was also true. Lance had gone and gotten himself blown up.

Lance was starting to feel numb and their safe pocket between the rocks seemed to grow darker.

He didn't want to die.

He didn't want to die in front of this child.

He couldn't really see, but he thought Rai was staring intently at his face. Waiting for Lance to do something useful.

"You're stuck?" Rai whispered. Lance swallowed hard.

"Don't worry. My friends will come to get us... Why don't you talk about something?" Lance forced out. "You know any songs?"

"Yes." Came the hesitant reply.

"Could you sing one? I'd like to hear it."

After a moment of quiet, Rai set his head upon Lance's chest and started humming something deep and low. Lance stopped himself from crying out over the added pressure. He wouldn't scare this kid. He wasn't going to do that.

As the humming continued in a different pitch, it occurred to Lance that these people didn't have songs in the usual sense. It was more like throat singing. Still, it became oddly soothing as it reverberated through his chest and bones. Lance moved his arm so that it rested on the boy's back. Maybe they could both find comfort in the gesture.

The humming went on and Lance was surprised when he realized he didn't even feel the pressure anymore. He didn’t feel anything.

The pain faded away completely and then everything else did too.

-0-0-0-0-

At certain frequencies, sound can encourage healing. At least, that is what Coran told Lance when he finally woke up from a pod.

"How did you know the Piylens could do that? It's not something they share with outsiders." Coran was looking at him with a kind of awe. Lance was pretty sure he didn’t deserve that look.

Lance shook his head. "I was trying to keep him from being afraid." He had just been trying to keep them both calm. "I didn't know anything."

Once again, Lance had made it through by pure dumb luck. They had taken vargas to find Lance, buried under all the rubble. Once they had his approximate location, digging him out had been slow and tedious. By the time they found him, he had lost a lot of blood and if it hadn't been for Rai and his healing humming... well, nobody discussed that scenario. Lance’s arm had been broken badly and his legs had been in similar shape. His spine had been alright, but the rest of it sounded awful. He was actually glad he wasn’t conscious for that part, but he felt bad that Rai had to be awake for it all. It had probably been scary. Lance wanted to thank the kid, thank his family too, but by the time Lance was out of the pod, the castleship was already far from the Piylens' planet.

"Are you alright, Lance?" Hunk asked him later. They had finished their evening meal and Hunk had found Lance stretched out on the floor of an observation deck, staring blankly out at the passing stars.

"Yeah,” Lance answered flatly.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just... I wish I could have been more useful. And I didn’t even get to say bye to that kid or thank him. I should have."

Hunk studied his friend. Lance had been down ever since he got out of the pod. It wasn’t right. Especially since everyone was so relieved and happy that Lance was okay.

"You know, that kid Rai told everyone that you were really nice. He said you were a ‘good glow light.’"

Lance snorted.

"Lance, paladin of Voltron, nightlight of the universe.” Lance smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Sounds pretty catchy to me."

Lance shook his head and continued looking out the large window of the observation deck.

"You know," Hunk started. "We only found that kid because you were with him."

Lance turned to his friend with wide eyes.

"We were looking for you. Nobody knew that kid was there. So if it wasn't for you, he probably would not have been found for days. It would have been too late... The Piylens need light to survive. They can't be in the dark for too long, it messes with their body temperature. So when he called you a good glow light, I think it was the best compliment he had."

"I didn't realize..."

"So don't worry about not thanking him. You saved each other."

Lance stared out the window in contemplation. He then shut his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling some of his tension and anxiety start to dissipate.

"Thanks, Hunk," Lance muttered as he let his body slowly relax. He was still so tired, he'd probably fall asleep right there on the floor.

"You're welcome."

Lance yawned and stretched his arms above his head. As he watched Lance drift off to sleep, Hunk was able to let go of his own worry as well. One of these days, maybe Lance would stop scaring them all like this. Lance let out a loud snore and Hunk smiled at how peaceful his friend now looked. It was good. Lance deserved to rest.