This was not how Keith Kogane wanted to spend his Monday night… well, technically, Tuesday morning. He groaned loudly as his stomach tightened, its remaining contents sloshing around viciously. He swallowed thickly, pressing his overheated forehead against the toilet bowl, letting the cool ceramic seep into the burning heat. He closed his eyes, willing his stomach to settle, willing the beating headache pounding behind his eyes to disperse, willing to feel better. He heard someone move behind him and felt a gentle hand on his neck then his forehead, sweeping his bangs away from his face.

"Jesus babe, you're really sick," Lance said softly, brushing Keith's bangs back as the older boy threw up once more, grimacing slightly as the sound echoed loudly off the tiny bathroom walls. Keith groaned, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the shower door behind him. He felt sweat slide down his temple and ran a sleeve over his face roughly as his stomach turned again. He'd been in the bathroom since 12am, and judging by the clock that kept dinging on the wall in their bedroom, Keith had guessed that that had been a while ago.

To be honest, he wasn't that surprised he was sick considering he worked in a Microbiology lab, messing with fungi and bacteria, and considering Pidge had been sick several weeks ago when they had studied for their upcoming History exam. It hadn't been until this morning that he begun to feel lightheaded and nauseous, but it hadn't been until this evening after forcing his tired aching body through yet another horrendous day of school and workouts, that he realized there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable.

Keith coughed again as something cool touched his face and he opened his eyes slightly to see the blurry image of Lance squatting in front of him, a hand pressed against his cheek. Lance bit his lip, worry and concern masking his tired features as his fingers connected with the unsettling warmth present beneath Keith's bangs. The dim light illuminating from the flicking ceiling light highlighted the dark circles under Keith's eyes and made his already too pale face seem paler. Keith closed his eyes again as the bathroom began to spin, and shifted to the floor, pressing his burning skin against the cold tile of the bathroom. He crossed his arms over his stomach protectively, hoping that lying horizontal would help ease the nausea plaguing his body. He heard his boyfriend sigh loudly and cracked his eyes open slightly to see the younger getting to his feet, one hand running through his hair nervously. Keith stifled a sickening burp as bile rose in his throat again, and clenched his teeth shut, swallowing several times. He closed his eyes again as Lance stood in the doorway, debating whether Keith would be okay alone for a few minutes. He decided he would.

"I'll be right back, okay Mullet?" Lance said softly, biting his lip, waiting for Keith's answer. Keith groaned in response. He just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to lie down. He wanted to feel better.

Lance sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck as he exited the small bathroom. He paused briefly in the doorway of the living room, waiting for his eyes to readjust to his surroundings before walking into the tiny kitchen. He squinted as he opened the fridge door, scanning over the pizza boxes and half gallon of milk before grabbing a half-finished bottle of water. He closed the door gently, and turned towards the counter, turning on his laptop and smirking as his mostly finished introduction greeted him. He'd been working on his 15-page essay that was due in two days when he heard Keith moving around in the bedroom. It wasn't long after that that he had found Keith huddled in the bathroom, his body trying to rid whatever sickness that possessed him. Lance sighed loudly, he should have known something was off with him, but it was Keith after all. His boyfriend would deny any sickness or injury until he was practically dead or dying. A smile smirk crossed Lance's face as the question how Shiro put up with his pain-in-the-ass little brother for almost 13 years, raced through his mind.

Lance set the water down on the counter and opened a blank email, shivering slightly as the cold air swept over his tired body. He had a lab practical at 8am, and considering it was nearing 4am, there was no way in hell Lance was going to leave Keith alone, especially since he only seemed to be getting worse. Not to mention, Lance was pretty sure that if he came home after his exam he'd find Keith dying because he tried to open a can of soup. The 21-year-old might be smart when it came to academics but he failed when it came to personal care or simple tasks.

Lance wiped his nose with the bottom of his shirt and ran a hand through his hair tiredly, thinking about the email he was about to send. He'd never missed a day of school before… well except that one day in September when Keith had gotten in a motorcycle accident, and even then, Lance had managed to finish his lecture exam before he left. Lanced sighed again and began typing:

Professor Haggin,

This is Lance McClain from your Tuesday/ Thursday Aquatic Biology lecture. I had a concern about the 3rd lab practical and, unfortunately, am unable to attend today's lecture/ exam. My boyfriend, and yes, I know what you're thinking, it's the same boyfriend from last September's motorcycle accident, has been up all night with a nasty stomach bug. Considering his brother is out of town, this means I'm the only one who can look after him. Please let me know if I can reschedule a time/ day to take the exam. I understand if I am unable to do so, and will take the posted grade. See you Thursday.

Lance McClain

2nd year student

Lance groaned loudly as he hit send, slamming his laptop shut. His biology professor was pretty cool, and considering she was the same professor as last year, Lance knew she most likely wouldn't have a problem with a reschedule. At least biology was the only class he had later today.

Lance grabbed the water perched on the counter and walked towards the bathroom, flicking the kitchen light off gently. He cursed quietly as his pinky toe met the edge of the coffee table sitting in the middle of the room, stumbling softly. He did that every time, without fail. Keith always joked that it was embedded in his brain so now it was inevitable. Lance winced as he bent down to check his foot blindly, making sure nothing was broken, before walking back into the pale gray bathroom. Lance frowned as his eyes met the shaking form of his boyfriend and turned towards the sink, grabbing a small washrag from the cabinet, wetting it slightly.

Keith was huddled against the ground, his eyes clenched tightly together, his cheek pressed against the icy ground beneath him. The floor spun beneath him and Keith groaned as sickening hiccups escaped his raw throat, burning his esophagus and leaving an acidic taste in the back of his mouth. He'd never felt this nauseous before, at least, not that he could remember. He flinched as something wet touched his forehead and opened his eyes slowly to see Lance smiling softly down at him, a wet cloth clasped in his hand.

Lance pressed the cloth against his boyfriend's forehead once more, carding his fingers though Keith's sweaty hair. He had been surprised to find him still on the floor considering Keith had a thing about germs. Keith pushed himself off the floor shakily, pressing his sweaty back against the shower door, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry," he whispered softly, wincing as the words scraped against his throat. He coughed roughly, covering his mouth with his sleeve, and turned back to look at Lance. His head swam from the harsh movement and Keith rested his head against the glass door, blinking several times, trying to clear his vision.

"How do you feel?" Lance asked softly, reaching for the bottle of water sitting on the ground. He shook it in front of the elder, hoping Keith would be willing to take a drink. Keith shook his head, and pushed the extended hand away. Water was the last thing he needed right now. He looked back down at the old hoodie he was currently wearing. He couldn't remember if it belonged to him, or Lance, or Shiro, but he liked it; it was warm and safe and comforting.

"I'm sorry I got sick, Lance. I'm fine now, babe. You can go back to bed," Keith felt his face heat up with embarrassment as his eyes connected with Lance's. He wasn't normally like this, in fact, he was the complete opposite of this. He wasn't weak, he wasn't a child, and the fact that having someone else taking care of him made him feel vulnerable, caused Keith's skin to crawl. He knew Lance would never judge him if he asked for help, just like he knew his boyfriend would never change his opinion of him if Keith showed weakness, but Keith didn't want to. He needed to act strong, he needed to be strong, for Lance; no matter how shitty he felt. Confusion crossed Lance's face momentarily, "I-I'm not leaving you, Kogane…"

…..

Lance glanced over at Keith, strewn out on the other side of the bed, bundled under several blankets, his left foot and arm hanging dangerously off the side of the bed. Lance snorted. Keith always complained about getting hot in the middle of the night whereas Lance was always cold, so he was usually the one with all the blankets. Lance grabbed his phone from the bedside table and opened his camera, snapping a quick picture, setting it as Keith's contact.

"Adorable," He whispered softly, setting his phone on his leg and turning back to face Keith. Keith was an absolute mess; his hair was sticking up in every different direction as sweat trickled alongside the bangs plastered to his pale face. Pink hues were painted across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose; dark bags present under his closed eyes. On top of that, he was also drooling. Lance smirked slightly as he grabbed the almost empty bottle of NyQuil resting on the nightstand, deciding Keith would be a perfect candidate for Vick's next commercial. He skimmed over the directions and symptom as his phone buzzed against his leg. Lance set the bottle down and glanced at the tiny screen, focusing on the text message.

Hunk-A-Lunk: Hey dude, wht did u get for #34? For the Calculus review?

Lance groaned loudly. He'd been working on his essay after he'd managed to wrestle Keith into bed and convince him he didn't need twenty blankets, all while trying to force as much water as the boy would take down his throat. Lance ran a hand over his face. He'd been so preoccupied with Keith, that he had forgotten about the Calculus homework due Wednesday. At least Keith was good with math, so maybe if he was feeling better by tonight, he'd be able to help. Lance sneezed softly, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

Lancelot: I haven't done it yet. Keith is sick.

Hunk-A-Lunk: Rlly? Is he ok?

Lancelot: Yeah, kept throwing up earlier but he downed ½ bottle of NyQuil- he's OUT.

Hunk-A-Lunk: :) Thts good. Hope he feels better soon.

Pidgeroni: Keith is sick?

Lancelot: Look who decided to join the group. Noisy.

Pidgeroni: Fuck you Lance, I've been busy. How's Keith?

Lancelot: Joking Pidgeon, damn. He'll b fine. Wht are u guys still doing up? It's 5am.

Hunk-A-Lunk: Studying with Shay.

Pidgeroni: Programming. Drank WAY too much caffeine, been up for 3 days.

Lancelot: Don't tell Shiro tht! Hunk, can u grab my homework later 2day?

Hunk-A-Lunk: Sure thing, man!

Pidgeroni: Tht reminds me, Shiro is back in town. They got back last nite.

Lancelot: Cool. Thanks.

Keith coughed loudly, pulling the covers closer to his chin, shifting towards his stomach, stretching his left arm towards Lance. Lance glanced over at Keith, pushing himself off the bed slightly to get a better look at his boyfriend, now buried under a mountain of blankets. He pressed his hand against Keith's forehead gently, sighing as his fingers connected with the still present uncomfortable warmth. He ran a hand through Keith's tangled hair, his eyes tracing the muscles in his shoulder blades and arms. Lance sighed and ran his fingers over the faint burn marks etched across Keith's left hand, tracing the small scars present on the pale flesh, biting his lip as Keith's words echoed in his mind: It happened when I was 11…I don't remember much… just blood… and red…

Lance breathed deeply, realizing his boyfriend was still asleep, and spread out on his side of the bed, flipping the table lamp off softly. He reached once more for his phone lying on the nightstand, flicking the small device on, squinting as bright light covered his face.

Lancelot: Turning in. Sending pic of Keith…

Pidgeroni: …

Pidgeroni: XD

Pidgeroni: He is SO going to kill u 4 this pic. Going online, hello Twitter.

Hunk-A-Lunk: Ur going 2 b in so much trouble when Keith finds out.

Lancelot: Pst, please. I'm nvr in trouble. Nite!

….

It happened so fast. Keith groaned loudly as he opened his eyes to the dimly lit bedroom, squinting as the pale sunlight bled past the opened blinds. He blinked a few times as his vision finally focused on the old ceiling fan squeaking above them, and coughed roughly as cold air swept over the uncomfortable heat enveloping his aching body. He laid there for a second, listening to Lance snore softly next to him as nausea plagued his body. He groaned again as his body went numb, warmth spreading over his body like wildfire. He was going to throw up.

Keith tried moving his fingers to grasp onto the rough fabric that laid heavily on top of his overheating frame but his movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. He felt oddly detached from his body; the sun that peered passed the window portrayed the room in an off-kilter and shiny vibrancy that made Keith's head ache. His head pounded with every tick from the clock on the wall, and his stomach twisted tightly. He coughed, wincing as the rough air pushed past his dry throat. He needed to move. He needed to get up. But his body wouldn't cooperate.

He whimpered as bile rushed up his throat and cramps set in, squeezing his rebelling stomach, making it painful to breath. He swallowed compulsively as he tried pushing himself off the bed, cursing his trembling arms for not being able to support him when he needed them most. He slammed against Lance's chest harshly as his fevered body began to tremble from effort, an acidic taste filling his mouth as wet hiccups escaped his lips. He tried swallowing but his stomach protested loudly as vomit flooded his mouth, spewing past his cracked lips. He shut his eyes as his tired body gave up, unable to push himself away from Lance as his stomach lurched.

Lance bolted up, Keith's burning body pressed against his, violently forced into a sitting position as Lance suddenly became aware of the sticky wet liquid soaking through his shirt and pants. Lance pressed Keith against his chest, pushing his hair away from his face before he even realized what was happening. He shivered as his tired brain finally caught up with the event. Keith was sick. Keith was getting sick. Fuck, Lance thought. He pressed a hand against Keith's forehead, cursing loudly as his fingers met the scorching heat radiating off his boyfriend's body. Lance felt his own stomach churn as Keith pitched again, wincing as the sound met his ears. Lance swallowed.

"Shit! Shit! Okay, okay, easy babe. Easy, Keith. Just breath, it's okay," Lance said softly, panic evident on his voice as Keith lurched forward again, bring up another wave of slimy bile and water. Keith grasped tightly at Lance's shirt, tears streaming down his tired face as his body shook violently from the cold air that touched his burning skin. He focused on Lance's arm wound tightly over his shoulders as a wet burp left his mouth, followed by a pathetic whimper as another stream of acidic vomit filled his mouth, dripping down his chin, soaking into his sweat soaked shirt. He had never felt this shitty and despite everything, despite trying to fully understand what was happening, Keith felt embarrassment course through his body. He wanted to tell Lance it was alright. He wanted to explain. He wanted to apologize.

Keith coughed roughly, "L-lance,"

"Shh, shut up, Mullet. Just breath. It's okay," Lance cooed softly, pressing his lips against Keith's scorching temple. He inhaled loudly, listening to Keith's ragged uneven breathing. "You're okay, babe. You're okay," Lance chanted softly, running his fingers through Keith's sweaty locks once more. Worry coursed through his body as the question of what to do ran through his exhausted mind. He stifled a sneeze as Keith coughed again, the harsh sound making Lance's heart race. Keith was never sick, or at least, he had never been this sick. And the fact that Keith wasn't acting like himself and grasping onto Lance's shirt, gave Lance an indication that this was bad.

They sat like that for a while, Keith plastered against Lance's chest, grasping at the fabric on his collar, his eyes shut as his body tried to keep down whatever his stomach was trying to bring up. Keith swallowed loudly and focused on Lance's heartbeat, listening to the soft thump-da-thump as he tried to steady his own breathing the best he could. He groaned as his head spun again, all he wanted to do was lie back down, curl up and pretend that none of this ever happened. Instead, he reached again at Lance's shirt, letting his boyfriend run his fingers through his hair softly. Lance breathed slowly, and it took him a few minutes of concerned silence to realize Keith was done puking for the time being.

Lance glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 6:30am. He swallowed as he cradled Keith against his chest. It was too early for anyone to be up, and the University Health Center wouldn't be open for another few hours. He reached for the light on the nightstand and stiffed slightly as light flooded the small bedroom, emitting a loud whimper from Keith. Lance's breath caught in his throat for a moment as he took in the damage Keith had done. Vomit was puddled across the blue comforter, dripping from Keith's chin and clothes, sliding down Lance's own shirt, landing in a puddle in his lap as Keith's head hung dangerously over it. His heart broke and Lance bit his lip as he glanced down at Keith's face. Angry pink hues highlighted his already too pale face, sweat dripping down it, landing in the slimy mess below. Keith kept his eyes tightly shut, not wanting to worsen his headache anymore by looking towards the light, not wanting to look Lance in the eyes.

The A/C kicked on loudly as Keith shivered. His body felt weak and he was having a hard time trying to piece together why his clothes were wet and why Lance was practically holding him. He shook his head gently as Lance asked him a question, not really knowing if that was the right answer. He opened his eyes slightly, seeing a distorted image of Lance, closing them quickly as Lance pressed a gentle hand against his forehead. Lance felt disgusting in his sticky clothes and the smell was enough to make his own stomach churn, but he could only imagine how Keith must be feeling.

Lance sat there for a moment trying to figure out what to do. He leaned back against the headboard, dragging Keith with him. He tightened his arm around Keith's shoulders, sighing deeply, as he glanced towards the bathroom a few feet away. Keith was burning up and Lance was concerned his fever had spiked… this would mean he would need to cool him off, but he also needed to change the sheets. There was no way in hell Lance was going to leave Keith alone in the shower considering he couldn't even sit up properly on his own. Lance shivered as cool air swept over his body and heat rolled off of the older boy. He reached for the thermometer on the edge of the nightstand.

"Keith? I need to check your fever, okay?" He said softly, not really sure if Keith had heard him or not. Keith shook his head but allowed Lance to slide the thermometer in his mouth. Lance ran a shaky hand through his hair as he glanced down at his boyfriend's shivering form. He pressed his hand once more to Keith's cheek, shifting slightly as Keith tried moving, tried getting up, only to fall back against Lance's chest. Lance bit his lip as he glanced down at the numbers on the thermometer. 104.1... This was bad. Really bad. He needed help. But the only person up at this time would be Shiro- Shiro was back in town!

"Okay, Red. I got this, I'm- I'm going to call Shiro, okay? He'll be up. He can help. Because that's what we need right now. We need a little help… I need help," Lance said softly, more to himself than anything. Lance momentarily glanced down at Keith who looked half-asleep, as he grasped his phone in his hand, waiting for his fingers to stop shaking enough to dial Shiro's number. He was freaking out. He had never seen Keith like this before, not even when he had food poisoning last summer.

Lance sneezed again, his blood running cold as he realized he wasn't just freaking out; he was scared… Lance tightened his grip around Keith's torso as the older boy groaned, dropping to his dead weight as his body lost consciousness. Lance swallowed, fear and worry masking his features as he tried to keep his composure, as he tried to concentrate on anything, anything besides the blood currently covering his shirt… Lance shivered slightly and cleared his throat. He let out a deep breath, trying to clear his mind, and let his fingers hover over the buttons before dialing Shiro's number. He held his breath as each ring passed, counting them silently, trying to finger out how many he had left till voicemail.

"Lance?"

Lance paused for a moment as Allura's sweet voice filled the speaker. She sounded out of breath, and for a second Lance questioned whether he had interrupted something before he remembered they were at the gym. For some ungodly reason, Allura and Shiro hit the gym every morning before their early class. Lance bit back the panic in his voice, tears threatening to swell in his eyes as Keith whimpered softly in his arms and Lance let out a calm breath, "Allura, I-I need to talk to Shiro. Is, is he there?"

Allura paused for a moment before saying softly, "Yes, one tick."

Lance pressed the phone to his forehead for a second and ran his hand through Keith's sweaty hair. He felt the grasp around his shirt loosen and looked down to see Keith staring at him, a blank expression written on his face. Keith opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it, a confused expression painting over his face.

"Lance? What's going on?" Shiro huffed. Lance took a second, picturing Shiro on the treadmill, trying his best to run at his top speed and answer the phone. A faint smile crossed his face as Lance looked back up, glancing at the shitty dresser standing across the room. Him and Keith had fought over whether or not to buy a new one a few months back after the damned thing had fallen on top of Keith while he was putting away laundry. Lance wanted a new one but Keith insisted the one they had was fine, despite almost breaking an arm.

"Shiro I-I," Lance cut off feeling tears beginning to form in his eyes. He hated feeling helpless, he hated looking weak… just like Keith. But he needed help. He needed Shiro's help and he knew Shiro would come. He knew Shiro could help. He can help Keith better than you can, better than you ever could. He heard a loud crash on the other end and Shiro cursed loudly, followed by Allura laughing. He listened to the soft conversation on the other end of the line, waiting for Shiro to answer.

"Lance? Tell me what's wrong. No, I'm fine, babe. I swear," Shiro said softly.

"I- need help. It's Keith. He's- he's really sick and his fever's high, and I need to bring it down, but I need to-," Lance cut off again as Keith pitched forward, vomit spewing past his lips as he braced himself against Lance's slender frame. Lance bit his lip as worry and concern flooded his body, taking over every other action as Keith puked for what had to be the millionth time tonight. He tried his best to juggle the phone between his shoulder and ear, one hand pressed against Keith's chest, the other pressed against his shoulder to keep him steady as Keith grasped once more onto Lance's soiled shirt. He winced as Shiro's voice echoed through the phone asking him questions he couldn't answer. Lance bit his bottom lip again, feeling blood beginning to coat his tongue, "Easy, Mullet. Easy, Keith. God, it's okay. It's okay, babe, Jesus."

Lance wiped at the tears that melted down Keith's pale face with the sleeve of his shirt gently. He swallowed, listening to the ragged breathing coming from Keith as the older boy whimpered again, apologizing softly. Lance moved the phone away from his face to let out a soft cough, wiping the tears that were still forming in his eyes, pressing the phone once more to his ear, Shiro's voice echoing through the speaker.

Keith lurched forward, smacking his body against Lance's chest as he tried to force air into his aching lungs. He groaned loudly as his stomach churned and he wondered what he could possibly have left to throw up because he felt like there was nothing. Keith closed his eyes, welcoming the silent darkness versus the light that flooded his senses from the nightstand table. He clutched onto Lance's damp shirt, gripping the collar tightly as if willing it to hold him from sinking below the exhaustion that coursed through his body. He heard Lance talking and he tried to concentrate on the words that were being said but his head hurt too much and his body was on fire. He tried pushing away from Lance but his limbs still wouldn't cooperate and all he could manage was to move his head to Lance's shoulder. He groaned again, pressing his forehead against Lance's neck, sighing softly as his overheated face connected with clammy cool skin.

"K-Keith, I- Shiro?" Lance asked gently, grasping the phone once more in his hand as he tried to stay as still as he could, not wanting to cause his boyfriend any more discomfort than he had to. Shiro had gone quiet on the other end and Lance swallowed, momentarily scared the older man had hung up.

"Shiro?" Lance asked again. He was about to end the call when Shiro's voice filled his ear.

"Lance!" Shiro yelled through the phone, "Listen to me, okay? We're on our way. Allura and I just left the gym and we're on our way. We'll be over there in 15 minutes, okay? Is the door unlocked?"

Lance shook his head. The worry that was laced in Shiro's voice caused Lance's mind to wonder. He could picture Shiro running out of the gym, Allura throwing the keys towards Shiro, which with Shiro being Shiro, he would probably miss as he jogged towards the driver side. Lance let out a loud sigh. He knew Shiro would come, after all, Keith was his little brother. Hell, if Shiro had still been in Boston, he would have found a way to still get here within an hour. Good old Shiro.

"N-no," Lance said softly. He cast a glance towards the bedroom door, wondering if he should get up and unlock the front door, dread coursing through his body. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached a hand down, grasping Keith's sweaty hand in his, unclasping his fingers from his shirt gently. He needed to stand. He needed to get up. He would need Keith to move.

"That's not a problem. I still have my key. We're on our way, Lance. You need to cool him off, you know how?" Shiro questioned lightly. Lance could hear Allura saying something in the background but he couldn't make out what. Lance nodded, "Yeah, I use to have a little- I, I have a big family."

Lance closed his eyes briefly, trying to rationalize why stating he had a big family would help him in his current situation. He sucked in a harsh breath as childhood memories flooded back to him. The storm's getting pretty bad… just one more wave, Jamie, then we'll go home, I swear… I can't look at you…

"Okay," Shiro breathed, "Do you need me to stay on the phone till I get there, or will you be okay?"

Lance pushed Keith away gently, pressing his bare feet against the cheap carpet, grimacing as his feet collided with the small puddle below. Disgust coursed through is mind followed by embarrassment. Shiro and Allura were going to walk in on this... at least Shiro was Keith's older brother...

"I- uh- I'll be okay," Lance said softly, running a hand through his hair.

"Okay," Shiro sighed, "I'll see you in a few minutes, Lance."

Lance waited for Shiro to hang up before flinging his phone onto the nightstand. He turned towards the blinds, opening them slightly, letting the pale sunlight bleed through the ugly tan curtains. He stretched slightly, shuddering as he tried his best to remove his sticky shirt, pulling it gently over his head before heading into the bathroom. He opened the shower door, turning the knob gently, testing the water with his hand, waiting for it to turn lukewarm.

Keith groaned loudly as he moved his head, trying to figure out where Lance went. He pushed himself up gently, trying to steady himself, his stomach heaving at the sudden movement but failing to bring up anything except a cough. He felt his overheated body fall forward, his head colliding with something cold. And it took him several minutes to realize it was Lance's bare chest. The younger boy ran his fingers through Keith's hair gently, "Keith, I need to cool you off, okay? I need you to stand…"

Keith shook his head softly, the idea of moving seemed like a terrible idea. Hell, even sitting up was tiresome and, at the moment, regrettable. Lance bent down slightly, Keith's burning forehead resting on his shoulder, "Keith, baby, I'm sorry but I really need you to help me out here. You're too heavy for me to carry all the way to the bathroom. Please, honey…"

Keith squinted as he looked up at Lance, his vision wavering as the headache that pulsed through his muddled mind, screamed at every movement. He swallowed again. Worry was beginning to course through his overheated mind as his eyes connected with Lance's panicked ones. Why was Lance worried? Was he scared? Was he hurt? Had someone hurt him? Keith tried pushing himself up, questions crawling through his jumbled mind in a disorganized order as he tried to piece together what was happening. He felt his knees buckle, his stomach and head protesting the idea of standing upright as strong arms grasped around his torso and shoulder.

"Don't worry, I've got you," Lance whispered softly. Keith turned to peer at Lance, his brain trying to form words his mouth couldn't shape. He wanted to know what was wrong. He wanted to know where they were going. He wanted to know what was happening. He wanted to know if Lance was okay.

"Lance?" Keith questioned, the familiar word barely pushing past his dry throat. Lance let out a soft breath, tightening his grip around Keith's torso as the 21-year-old slumped against him. Lance coughed again, trying to clear his throat, "Don't worry, Mullet, I've got you."