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“Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-o—achoo!” A sneeze interrupted his count, and Keith groaned as he lost his place… again.
He’d been at this all morning, tucked away in the shack-turned-workshop as they were preparing for their next relief mission—a dropoff to provide rations and medical supplies to Kitir 14, a planet still recovering from a centuries-long Galra occupation—and Keith’s attempt at taking inventory kept getting interrupted by snot.
It was nothing really, just a small uptick in allergies, probably from all the newly blooming crops Lance had planted, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn't starting to get on his nerves.
It started off innocuous enough, just a slight stuffiness in his nose that slowly shifted into a postnasal drip over the last few days, but even so he could tell Lance was onto him. He kept giving him these looks—not judgemental necessarily, but… contemplative. Pondering. And he knew for a fact he woke him up in the middle of the night with his coughing last night, despite his best efforts not to. But when he came back to bed, Lance simply wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him to his chest without a word. He insisted he was fine, it was just allergies, it would go away on its own, and Lance didn’t fight him on it, but he could tell he didn’t fully believe him either.
He massaged his temples as he tried to remember where he’d left off tallying the bandages in the box in front of him before giving up and starting over. He hadn’t slept well the previous night at all, and the tension behind his eyes was starting to throb in a dull pulse, but he couldn’t slow down now. Everything had to be wrapped up and ready to go by tomorrow morning, and he wasn’t anywhere near done. He still had to account for the rest of the supplies, confirm the points of distribution with the Kitir aid director, input those coordinates into the ship’s navigation system, and make sure they still had clearance from the Garrison to wormhole—not to mention touch base with Lance on all the tasks he’d been in charge of.
There were a lot of things he hadn’t anticipated needing to deal with when he’d agreed to help transition the Blade into a humanitarian organization, and he definitely had his work cut out for him, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be. And he wasn’t about to let a runny nose get in the way.
He’d just finished sealing the last box of bandages when there was a knock on the door, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Lance leaning against the door frame, the midday sun filtering in behind him.
A smile crept up Keith’s face as he twisted back around to update the spreadsheet on his datapad, and he put on his best Shiro impression. “How’re the rations coming, Commander McClain?”
“Almost all packed and ready for transport, Commander Kogane,” Lance replied, his footsteps echoing across the floor as he drew closer, and then strong arms were wrapping around his waist, and a chin dropped to his shoulder. “But I’m here to remind you to take a break.”
Keith groaned, knocking his head back into Lance’s as he did so. “I’m still sore from the last time we ‘took a break.’”
“Not that kind of break,” Lance huffed out a laugh and squeezed Keith’s hips. “Not this time. I just wanna have lunch with you.”
He took a step back, unwinding himself from Keith, and Keith turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised. Lance simply smiled and grabbed the datapad from his hand before leading him over to his desk where a paper bag seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
He paused as Lance began unpacking it and watched as he pulled out two sandwiches, two bottles of water, and a ripe tangerine. “You made us lunch?”
“Yup.” Lance grinned as he crumpled the empty bag. “I figured you’d be too busy to go back to the house so I thought I’d just bring it to you.”
The corners of his lips tugged up as Lance pulled another chair over, and he took his own seat on the other side of the desk. Usually lunch was a joint effort, the two of them meeting back at the house to make something together, but with the time crunch for their mission tomorrow, Keith had been planning on skipping it. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Lance replied as he slid the sandwich across the table. “You get to be our taste tester though.” He pointed to the food in front of them. “The spinach is from the garden and the tangerine is from the orchard.”
Despite the fact that the majority of the rations they provided were non-perishable (often large containers of food goo), Lance was still dedicated to providing fresh produce where he could. Sometimes it wasn’t feasible, and they definitely didn’t produce enough to feed entire planets, but it was worth it to put a smile on someone's face, even if just for a moment.
Keith nodded as he picked the sandwich up, taking an admittedly large bite, and he tried not to wince as he swallowed. His stupid throat had been tickling all morning and now that he was using it, it was threatening to spasm.
Sensing this, Lance pushed his bottle of water closer to him, and Keith gratefully uncapped it to wash the sandwich down. Unfortunately, that seemed to backfire against him. His throat completely seized up, and he was barely able to swallow the water before he was coughing into his sleeve.
Lance was out of his seat in an instant, taking the bottle from his hand and rubbing his back as Keith heaved into his elbow, and he couldn't help but cringe at the sound coming from deep within his chest, crackly and wet.
Eventually he was able to regain control of his breathing, painfully clearing his throat, and when Lance leaned back, he was giving Keith that look again.
“I’m fine,” Keith grumbled, heat rising to his cheeks involuntarily at how rough his voice sounded. “I told you, it’s just allergies.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Lance raised his hands in defense.
“You were thinking it…”
Lance sighed then, his brows pinching, and a tiny frown pulled at his lips. “Allergies or not, maybe you should take it easy.”
“No,” Keith immediately refused, shaking his head. “This has to get done today, the people on Kitir need these supplies. They're depending on us, and I’m not going to make them wait just because I’m… congested.”
Lance looked like he wanted to protest, but he bit his tongue, blowing out another sigh and brushing Keith’s hair behind his ear instead. “Okay,” Lance whispered, and he reluctantly moved back to his seat across from him.
Keith was right and Lance knew it. This wasn’t something they could push off for a few more days, the mission was tomorrow, and there was still so much to do. Keith didn’t have time to be sick.
So it was a good thing he wasn’t…
They finished the rest of their lunch amicably, the spinach fresh and crunchy and the tangerine sweet and firm, and Lance promised he’d be back in a few hours to help Keith wrap up whatever needed done once he was finished with the rations. He left with a kiss to Keith’s cheek and Keith wasted no time getting back to work.
Much to his displeasure, his headache didn’t go away after lunch, in fact, it seemed to be spreading to the rest of his entire body, his muscles protesting as he hunched over the boxes of supplies, sniffling every two seconds to keep the snot in his nose from running down his face while the soreness in his throat made itself known every time he swallowed it. He managed to get through another five boxes before he couldn’t ignore it anymore, and his next sneeze left his arm covered in mucus.
He grimaced at the mess on his sleeve, and then groaned as he remembered he’d run out of tissues yesterday and forgot to grab another box from the house. He’d already been running low due to… other recent activities, and now he was out entirely. He guessed he’d be making a trip back to the house afterall…
He sighed as he straightened himself upright and turned towards the door, but he stopped short when he noticed something on his desk out of the corner of his eye. There was a tiny packet of tissues that definitely hadn’t been there earlier. And he knew exactly who left it there.
A smile spread across his lips as he crossed the room, and he removed one from the package before using it to blow his nose and wipe down his arm. Even when he wasn’t there, Lance still had his back.
With his nose temporarily dealt with, he threw the tissue away and collapsed into the chair at his desk, clicking on his datapad and scanning his spreadsheet for “nitrile exam gloves.” He happily updated their status from “in progress” to “complete,” and dropped his eyes down the list to see what was next. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him when he saw he was nearly finished—only the IV kits and surgical masks remaining—and he slumped forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him.
He let his eyes flutter shut as he massaged his temples again, trying to ease the tension that was compounding behind them. He’d just rest his eyes for a few minutes, and then he’d get back to work. Just a little break, and then he’d be ready to go again. Just a few minutes…
***
Keith jolted awake at the sound of something heavy meeting wood, and he blinked rapidly as he lifted his head from his desk to see a mug had just been placed in front of him. When had he…?
“Ready to admit it yet?” He snapped his head up to see Lance smiling down at him oh-so fondly.
Keith just groaned and rubbed his eyes, taking stock of the way everything seemed to ache now. “Fine,” he conceded with a pout. “I’m sick.”
“Here,” Lance spoke softly, and he pulled a tiny bottle out of his pocket and set it on the desk. “Take two of those and wait here a minute. I have to lock up the barn, but I’ll make you some soup, ok?”
Keith sniffed miserably but nodded, grabbing the bottle and popping it open.
“Be right back,” Lance whispered and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before hurrying out the door where the sun was just beginning to set.
God, how long had he even been out for? It had to be at least 6:30 in the evening.
It was only as he was reaching for the mug that he realized Lance had draped his jacket across his shoulders, and a shiver wracked his body as he downed the pills with the drink Lance had left him—warm juniberry tea with enough honey to give him a cavity, just the way he liked it.
He pulled Lance's jacket the rest of the way on, putting his arms through the sleeves and wrapping it tighter around his body, but when he went to put his hands in the pockets he was met with something crinkly and stiff.
He fished it out and squinted down at it. It was a slip of paper, a receipt, and as his eyes scanned the tiny print on it, he realized it was for the medicine he’d just taken, but that wasn't the part that caught his attention, no—it was the date.
Lance had bought it three days ago. Three days. And Keith's head spun with the implication of what that meant.
For three days, he let Keith pretend he wasn’t getting sick. For three days, he endured Keith waking him up in the middle of the night coughing without a word of complaint. For three days, he cared for him in ways so subtle he didn’t even realize it, and then he waited, with open arms, until Keith was ready to admit he wasn't feeling well so he could catch him when he fell.
Keith suddenly felt warm all over, and he couldn’t tell if he had a fever coming on or if it was from the sheer emotion of being loved so unconditionally. But all Keith could think was how in the world did he get so lucky?
***
The next morning Keith woke up in a haze, surrounded by soft blankets and the sun filtering through the blinds. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, unprepared for its bright assault as he buried his face back into the sheets.
Wait.
Keith blinked his eyes open.
The sun?
He shot up in bed, the room spinning slightly as he searched for his comm in the sheets. They were late. Shit, they were gonna miss the drop off. They were supposed to be en route by now and here he was, still in bed.
A soft chuckle caught his attention and he whipped his head around to see Lance sitting beside him, leaning back against the headboard as he smiled down at him.
“What are you doing?!” Keith demanded. “Why aren’t you getting ready?!”
“Because we’re not going anywhere,” Lance answered easily.
“What do you mean? We have a drop off on Kitir 14 at—”
“No, Ezor and Zethrid have a drop off on Kitir 14 at 1500 hours,” Lance corrected.
Keith blinked at him, the words not registering in his sleep-addled mind.
“I took us off the job,” Lance supplied.
“But—”
“Ezor and Zethrid are perfectly capable of doing this run on their own. And I’m pretty sure people don’t want to get their rations from someone who’s sneezing all over them,” Lance teased, tugging on a strand of Keith’s hair before tucking it behind his ear.
“… oh.” Keith felt heat rise to his cheeks. He guessed that would be pretty offputting, wouldn’t it? Except… “The supplies. I didn’t finish packing everything. Lance, they’re—”
“Do you trust me?” Lance interrupted him again.
“You know I do.” Keith frowned.
“Then believe me when I say I have everything taken care of.” Lance smiled softly at him and ran his thumb across his cheekbone beneath his eye. “After you went to bed, I finished up in the workshop, and I personally saw to it that everything got loaded onto Ezor and Zethrid’s ship this morning. Also, Kosmo is with them, so you can stop worrying now, ok?”
“Okay,” Keith murmured, suddenly guilty for doubting him. “Sorry.”
“Nuh-uh, none of that,” Lance consoled and tugged Keith back down into the blankets with him. “We’re a team, Keith. One of these days we’re gonna get it through your thick skull that you don’t have to do everything yourself. Right now, your job is to focus on getting better and to let me take care of you. Even you need a sick day sometimes.”
Keith huffed out a laugh as he curled into Lance’s chest, closing his eyes and letting all the tension and tightness in his muscles melt into the sheets. He knew Lance would always be there to catch him when he fell, just like Keith would do the same for him. This time, he’d agree without protest.