Work Text:
‘This suuuuuuuuckkkss’
‘Why is this happening to me’
‘Why does the universe hate me’
‘I think I'm dying’
‘Hunk’
‘Help’
‘If it's that bad just reschedule.’
‘He's been raving about this for months. MONTHS. I can't do that to him.’
‘Lance :(‘
‘:(‘
‘:( help’
Wish I could man :( just take some Tylenol and get some rest.’
Lance lets out a slow, exaggerated sigh and throws his phone down on his dorm bed. He scrubs a hand over his face and then lets the back of his palm settle against his forehead, resolve falling as the dry warmth reminds him of the fever he’s running. This was unfair. This was so unfair.
Because he has a date in a few hours.
If Lance isn't at the library busy with homework, then he’s working at the local diner or catching up on sleep. If Keith isn't busy with homework, then he’s busy applying to graduate schools or tutoring astrophysics. To put it gently, they’re both buried. And sure, they see each other regularly during Astronomy club meetings and group study sessions at the library. And sure, they stay in together some weekends and go out with everyone from Astronomy club on other weekends. But aside from that, Lance and his boyfriend can never manage to find enough overlapping free time to go on actual dates.
The movie they were supposed to be seeing tonight? It’s their first date in at least a month.
And because the universe was so kind, and worked it such wonderful, mysterious ways, Lance had gone to bed the previous night with a mild headache and a slightly runny nose, and woken up that morning with a wet cough, a sore throat from breathing through his mouth all night, and a headache five times worse.
He wants to die.
He presses the home button on his phone to check the time. A little over four hours until he’s supposed to meet up with Keith- which gives him three hours to sleep off his headache and one hour to make himself presentable. That was fine, he could work with that.
He sticks an arm out, blindly fumbling for bottle of ibuprofen he'd set out last night. His fingers close around the bottle, breaking the silence in the room with the soft clicks of colliding pills, and he brings himself to a sitting position so he can undo the lid without spilling any. After swallowing two, he flops back down and sets his alarm.
6:00.
Keith comes at 7:00
He can do this.
A few crackling coughs escape him, and he swallows the gunk they bring up, grimacing as it slithers back down his throat. He lets his eyes slip shut, and then he prays and prays and prays to the stars and beyond that he’ll wake up feeling a little better until he falls into a restless sleep.
---
He doesn’t.
In fact , he doesn’t wake up at all until he feels buzzing against his cheek, accompanied by a lack of his alarm ringtone. He starts awake, blinded by the brightness of his phone. A picture of Keith in a beanie, with Lance’s arm slung around his shoulder fills his screen. Keith’s calling? Why is Keith calling? He swipes to answer without thinking.
“‘H’Lo?” His voice comes out rough and drowsed, so he holds his hand against the speaker, clears his throat and tries again, “Hello?” Much better.
“Hey. I’m almost here. Did...Are you just waking up?” It’s funny how someone’s voice can make you feel like home and send waves of panic crashing through your body all at once.
“What? No.” Lance chuckles uncomfortably, “Just haven’t really talked all day, if you can believe that.”
“I hardly can,”
Lance’s flips the screen so he can see the time. His eyes shoot open. He’s wide awake now. 6:50.
“Shit!”
“Lance? What?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing, I got a little sidetracked.” He scrambles out of bed. He needs to find pants, needs to comb his hair, needs to brush his teeth, needs to put on cologne, needs to-
“You definitely just woke up.” Keith’s voice cuts through.
“No. Okay, maybe. Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll be ready when you get here, okay?”
Keith sighs on the other end.
“I love you,” Lance tries,
“And I love you too. Now get ready. See you soon.” And then Keith hangs up.
Lance sets his phone down, breathes shallowly through his mouth. His head is no better than before his nap, and congestion has definitely settled, more in his lungs than in his sinuses. To top it all off, he doesn’t even feel rested. This sucks. But he needs to get ready.
Finding an outfit is the easiest part. He slips into the skinny jeans and the light blue sweater he’d picked out a week in advance with ease. He brushes his teeth haphazardly, and then splashes water on his face and runs his fingers through his hair. When he’s finished, he studies himself in the mirror, water still dripping from his chin. There are soft, gray rings pooling beneath his eyes and the corners of his nose are tinged red. Aside from these minor things, it’ll do.
Now that he’s no longer rushing, time has slowed down enough for his headache to catch up with him. It’s dulled down a little from before, but it’s still noticeable. His temples are throbbing lightly, like they’re in the beginning stages of a rebellion. Before he has time to dwell on it, his phone vibrates against the countertop, creating the most unpleasant sound and sending pulses of pain through his head. Lance inhales sharply, grabbing his phone just so it’ll stop.
Keith is calling again, probably to say he’s here.
He needs to take some more medication. Now. What does he need? Ibuprofen? Sudafed? Cough drops? He shakily undoes the lid to take another Ibuprofen, spilling a few in the process. He’s too crunched on time, and his thumbnails aren’t piercing the foil right, so he has to leave the Sudafed. Cough drops? Not even an option anymore.
A few more productive coughs force their way out as he’s slipping his shoes on. As he’s stepping out the door, he pleads with his body to cooperate for the next few hours.
He pleads really hard.
-
Sure enough, Keith is in his driveway. The air is a little colder than he’d expected, but he’s too excited to see Keith to pay much attention to the chilly breeze, even though it’s filtering through the threads of his jacket. Lance smiles and waves, and Keith glowers in response, barely masking the upward quirk of his lips. It makes Lance laugh, and his breath escapes in misty clouds. The laughter quickly induces the need to cough, so Lance clears his throat before opening the passenger door.
“Hey, grumpy. Hope you didn’t wait too long.”
“We’ll make it.” Keith answers, eyes darting to the dashboard clock. “Enjoy your nap?”
Lance freezes for a second, suddenly feeling like he’s been exposed. He recovers soon enough. “It was phenomenal.”
“You really couldn’t have timed it better.”
Lance seeks out Keith’s right hand and intertwines their fingers. “It’s okay, Keith. I know you’re just mad you missed out on sleeping with me.” He grins cheekily, blinks twice for emphasis.
Keith snorts and shakes his head, but Lance knows he’s fighting a smile.
Keith starts to drive and what Lance wants to do is talk Keith’s ear off like he usually does, because Keith never fills long silences on his own, but he also doesn’t trust his throat. So, he turns on the radio and tries to hum responses when it’s appropriate, hoping that Keith won’t find it a suspicious, but knowing that overall, he won’t mind. He finds that singing softly alleviates the need to cough, so that’s what he does. Keith even joins him, eventually.
A few minutes in, the bridge of Lance’s nose begins to prickle. The tingling sensation works its way down before he can do anything to stop it.
He turns away from Keith and ducks into his elbow, sighing softly after the release and leaving his arm raised. Warmth spills over onto his upper lip.
Beside him, Keith, who has since stopped singing, raises an eyebrow. “Bless you.”
“Thanks.” Lance says, followed by an uncomfortable laugh.
“There’s tissues in the glove compartment.” Keith states, eyes already back on the road. Lance’s grimace is shielded beneath his elbow. He’s grateful that Keith is watching the road instead of observing the slow blush spreading across his cheeks as he quietly cleans himself up.
He balls the napkins up in his fist and watches the city lights blur together.
The universe has abandoned him, it seems.
-
They’re in the theater for about five minutes before the urge to cough settles in the back of Lance’s throat. He takes a few sips from the outrageously priced water he bought, and the feeling backs off and returns in a matter of minutes. He repeats the process again. And again. They aren’t even past the second trailer yet, and he’s got a whole movie to make it through.
As he’s downing yet another sip of water, a lightbulb goes off in Lance’s head. Eventually he’s going to have to pee, at least that’s what it’ll look like, and that’s great- because he can cough to his heart’s content, blow his nose, and let all of his more inconvenient symptoms taper off- since he’s got a completely valid excuse to leave. It’s the most glorious thought he’s ever had. He can do this, he won’t be disrupting the movie or worrying Keith, and it’s all going to be okay and-
“Did you want to see this?”
“Huh?” Keith looks at him, confused.
“You just...looked really excited.”
Lance looks up, realizing that he’s zoned out for an entire trailer. A few names flash on the screen and some upbeat music is playing. A dog runs across the screen. He smiles. None of it matters, but he’s got an act to keep up.
“Only if you’re the one taking me.” He nudges Keith’s elbow and leans his head so that Keith’s shoulder is pressing into his cheek.
“It looks stupid, but I guess if you really want to.”
“Hey!” Keith leans his head against Lance’s.
Almost immediately, he draws back, and Lance follows suit. Keith looks at him with the same wary expression he had in the car. Lance mirrors it with his own expression of confusion, but just as quickly, Keith turns his attention back to the screen.
A few minutes later, Lance excuses himself to ‘go to the bathroom’. He makes his way down the stairs as quickly as he can, and as soon as he’s out of the theater, he leans against the wall and starts to cough wetly into his sleeve. A woman shoots him a dirty look, as if she’s shaming him for breathing the same air, and his chest only clenches a little as he presses his sleeve harder against his mouth and looks away.
-
Lance has left four times since the movie started and it hasn’t even been half an hour. Not that Keith is counting, but either his boyfriend has a bladder the size of a walnut, or there’s something else going on. Every time Lance comes back, he throws his arm around Keith’s shoulder, and Keith gets comfortable leaning in- only for Lance to leave again minutes later. It’s annoying, yeah, but he’s starting to feel concerned.
So the next time Keith feels Lance’s arm shifting away and he looks over to see Lance mouthing ‘bathroom’ apologetically in the pulsing glow of the theater light, he waits until Lance is at the bottom of the stairs and then gets up to follow him. As soon as he makes it into the hall, he’s greeted to the sight of Lance with the collar of his sweater tented over his mouth and the awful sound of crackling cough after crackling cough spilling from his lips.
A heavy weight settles in Keith’s chest. He knew Lance had felt warm earlier. He knew his voice had sounded off in the car.
Why didn’t Lance say anything?
He’s more bothered than he wants to admit.
Lance looks up, eyes widening and shoulders slightly hunching. Keith speaks first.
“Are you...okay?” Lance almost seems to sigh in relief.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m toooootally fine. I know this sounds kinda bad, but I promise I’m doing great.” He turns to the side to cough again, “It’s just, I didn’t want to be disruptive.”
“I mean, getting up every five seconds is also kinda disruptive.” Keith points out.
“To be fair, I actually did have to pee at least once.” Lance walks to the nearest drinking fountain and then comes back. He starts talking again before Keith has time to say anything.“You ready to go back in? Oh, don’t look at me like that, I’ll stop leaving.” He grabs Keith’s hand and practically drags him back into the theater.
“We’re missing the movie.” He says. Keith nearly rolls his eyes at the irony.
They settle back into their seats. Keith tries not to let it show how concerned he is each time Lance stifles coughs into his fist. It sounds painful, looks painful.
He sneaks glances at Lance more often than he wants to admit, just to check if he looks comfortable. At least once, he’s met with a sheepish smile, but as time goes by, Lance starts to nod off. Sometimes Keith looks and Lance’s eyes are open, and sometimes Keith looks and they’re not.
At some point, Keith feels warm weight on his shoulder. Carefully, he guides Lance’s head so that it’s in a more comfortable position, nuzzled in the crook of his neck, and then he puts his arm around Lance’s shoulder and pulls him closer. He spends the rest of the movie distracted by Lance’s soft snores, the uncomfortable heat against his neck, and his own racing thoughts.
When the movie is over, Keith waits until the theater has mostly cleared out, and then gently shakes his boyfriend awake. Lance blinks at him dazedly and then runs a fist across his mouth.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”
“Shit, oh shit-I didn’t mean to fall asleep” Lance rasps, and then coughs to clear his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, which is flat on one side from being pressed against Keith’s shoulder. He looks exhausted.
They make their way to the lobby, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them. It’s between movies, so the lobby is mostly empty, save for the workers.
“So, uh, was the movie good?” Lance tries.
“Yeah, it was great.” Keith says flatly, unable to disguise the frustration that’s been building in his chest.
“Look, I’m really sorry I fell asleep. I know you really wanted to see this, and I feel really bad that I couldn’t stay awake-”
“That’s not it.” Keith says sharply, cutting Lance off. Keith hates it, just hates the kicked puppy look Lance is giving him, because he knows it’s not intentional. It doesn’t stop the impression of bite in his tone. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”
“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” Lance says calmly. He starts to play with his hands.
“Really, Lance? You seemed miserable the whole time. It seems like kind of a big deal to me.” He’s gotta stop. He’s really gotta stop. His boyfriend is sick. He doesn’t need a lecture.
Lance sighs heavily, eyes falling to the tiled floor. He starts to massage one of his temples with two fingers-something he only does when he has a headache. “I wanted to spend time with you.” He says softly.
“We could have stayed in.”
And then Lance looks up, looks him directly in the eyes.
“We never have any time to go on dates. I hardly get to spend any time with just you, and you’ve been talking about wanting to see this for such a long time. I didn’t want you to worry, and I didn’t want you to do-to do this.” He gestures with his hands in a way that makes no sense, “I just wanted to go on a date with you, and I didn’t want this to get in the way. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, just- just don’t be…” Lance’s voice wavers a little, and he clears his throat again. “Don’t be mad at me.”
All of the anger Keith was feeling before is washed away by an immense flood of guilt. Lance gasps sharply, and Keith is afraid, so afraid he’s just made his sick boyfriend cry because he couldn’t control his own fucking emotions- and then Lance raises his elbow and sneezes.
Some of the heaviness is lifted from Keith’s chest, but not much. Again, Lance leaves his arm hovering over his face, looking more upset with himself than anything. He sniffles, and it’s thick and pathetic and it makes Keith’s chest twinge. Keith moves to retrieve some napkins from a nearby dispenser, and then hands them to Lance, who takes them wordlessly.
Keith waits for Lance to blow his nose, and then he places his hand on Lance’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’m not mad at you. I just...want you to tell me these things next time, okay?” Lance’s gaze slides to meet his, eyebrows raised. “I care about you, and want you to take care of yourself. Not too much to ask, right?” And then he grins, and kisses Lance lightly on the cheek, feeling both warmth and a slight rise. He takes Lance’s hand in his.
“Let’s go home.”
“Finally.” Keith shoots Lance an exasperated stare before he can help it, “Kidding, babe.”
“You’re lucky I think you’re cute.”
Lance squeezes his hand, “I love you.”
“I love you too, you fucking idiot.”
-
Unsurprisingly, Lance falls asleep again on the ride home. At a red light, Keith steals a glance at his boyfriend. Lance looks peaceful, even though his head is tilted at an uncomfortable angle. He rubs his thumb over Lance’s knuckles, just to remind himself that Lance’s hand is still there in his own. He’s a little nervous, because he’s doesn’t have a lot of experience as a caretaker, but he’s going to swaddle Lance in blankets, and make him some tea, and talk to him until he falls asleep, and they’re going to be okay.