Flu

Keith wouldn't describe himself as someone especially in tune with his own body. Had he trained himself to do physically impressive feats? Sure. Had he developed his intuitive understanding of the mechanics of his own body to improve his litheness and speed in hand-to-hand combat? Absolutely. It was a given knowing the career path he'd been pursuing before becoming a paladin of Voltron. And yet, he'd never developed that self-sensing ability to easily understand signals from his own body.

So when he slowly started feeling more tired throughout the day, he didn't even notice at first. The aches deep in his muscles didn't give it away either. Even the handful of times he'd had to interrupt his practice sessions to sprint to the nearest trash can and vomit didn't really strike him as a symptom of anything being off. He used to have an admittedly bad habit of practicing too hard for too long, so he wrote his symptoms off as just training too hard again now and simply let himself go a little easier during his personal practice sessions for a few days afterward. He couldn't remember how many days ago he'd started feeling like this, but it wasn't until the fatigue got bad enough that he couldn't bring himself to train alone at all—and only barely trained with the team—that he realized that just maybe he was sick rather than training too hard. That admission to himself had come this morning, and for the rest of the day thus far he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave his bed.

He was stuck in a battle of his body's physical hunger with his more mental issues stemming from the unfortunately lingering taste of vomit from his final training session last night before he'd given in and trudged his way to bed. He desperately wanted to at least brush his teeth to make himself feel a little better and perhaps increase his appetite enough to bring himself to eat, but he couldn't seem to get out of bed anymore. He was just so tired, and all that seemed possible was alternating between restless sleep and lying quietly in bed with his eyes closed, waiting for more restless sleep. He occasionally opened his eyes long enough for a slow survey of his room, but he mostly avoided it as it would spark a worsening in the headache he'd been fighting for a day? Two days? How long had it been since he had been comfortable in his own body? He was shivering beneath the only blanket he had in his bedroom, but no matter how much he longed for more warmth, he still couldn't bring himself to stand up long enough to find someone to help him get the blankets his body desperately begged for.

It was after one of his longer periods of rest that he decided he should probably let someone know he was sick. It was early in the afternoon now, and he'd definitely missed a team practice that he'd meant to attend early this morning. No one had shown up to drag him to practice though, so maybe it had been cancelled for some reason. Or maybe they just didn't want to train with Keith today? It was a sad thought for someone who'd come to think of his team almost as a family, but Keith had been through enough foster homes to know that love couldn't be forced. If the others didn't love him back in the same way, he would understand; any sort of semblance of a family was better than the crushing loneliness he'd dealt with for so long, and he'd take what he could get even if it was doomed to be one-sided. That was a depressing turn of thoughts though, and Keith wasn't particularly in the mental state to deal with these thoughts at the moment, so he shoved them to the back of his mind and instead considered the pros and cons of getting out of bed.

The pros? He could maybe warm up finally if he found a few more blankets. He might run into Hunk on the way and be able to convince him to cook something lighter than usual; that would be a much better solution than trying to stomach the food goo as long as Hunk was up for the challenge. He could apologize for missing the practice session… if they'd even had it? Maybe he was misremembering their training schedule since no one had come to wake him. He could also see if Coran was around to ask about medicine that might help with the intense tiredness at the very least; that was by far the most crippling problem he was having, and he'd gladly deal with any other symptom if he could just get over this constant tiredness. If he was up anyway, maybe he could work up the energy to finally brush his teeth.

Then, there were the cons. He was still dead tired and didn't know if he could motivate himself enough to get out of this bed anytime soon. Plus, he could only imagine how much more achy his body could get once he was up and moving around. What if he spread whatever this was to someone else while he was up? He was suffering, and he didn't want anyone else to feel like this. What if someone saw him and tried to force him to go to group practice? Maybe it was earlier than he thought and no one had come because practice hadn't started yet. He definitely couldn't handle that sort of physical strain right now. While he'd found that exercise helped him feel better when he was sick sometimes, this definitely didn't feel like one of those times. Another con: while he knew his body probably needed food, he still couldn't shake the lingering nausea from the past few days. Or maybe that was just hunger at this point? The two feelings were so similar, and it was just too hard to discern between them now. Unable to make a decision, he just moaned quietly instead.

In the end, he pulled his miserable self together enough to focus on the fact that the pros still outweighed the cons, and with a loud sniffle that pulled painfully at his throat, he gave in to logic and sat up in his bed. There was a brief frustrating moment as his room tilted as he moved to sit, but it was over quickly and he was ready to pull himself to his feet before he backed out of this.

The kitchen was his main target right now. He knew he needed to eat something while he was actually awake. It had been at least a full day since he'd eaten anything if he was remembering right through the brain fog. So food. Yes, food was good, even if it didn't sound very good right now. If he was lucky, he'd run into someone on the way to or from the kitchen and he wouldn't have to build up the strength to go on another trip later. He set off toward his goal at what he wouldn't exactly call a normal pace, but hey it was something.

Walking around was having mixed results for his symptoms. On the one hand, he felt less of the brain fog or confusion or whatever that feeling was now that he was moving. He was pretty sure it was a side effect of the fever he was most likely running right now, but whatever caused it, it was particularly annoying today. It hadn't been an issue last night but he'd certainly felt it this morning, an uncomfortable niggle like he was forgetting something almost constantly and yet he didn't want to remember because thinking at all made the headache worse. Right now, his headache was tolerable, though it had been less painful when he'd still been lying still with his eyes closed. He worked hard to hold back coughs, knowing that each one would only serve to hurt his throat and head more. His nose was his real complaint as he moved around. Getting up seemed to have made his nose run much more, and he cursed the lack of space tissues before wondering if maybe the ship had space tissues after all.

It wasn't until he was nearly walking by the bathroom that he changed his mind and decided to start with a good thorough tooth brushing instead. Hopefully it would help with his ability to eat, because at this point he struggled to remember the last time he ate anything. He knew at his first glance at himself in the mirror that he wouldn't be convincing anyone he wasn't sick today. He tended toward pale normally, but today brought a new extreme in paleness except for the angry pink across his cheeks. He preferred to take care of himself in solitude, but he supposed there were always exceptions to the rule, and this time was probably one of those exceptions. Brushing his teeth took longer than usual as he first struggled to remember where he even left his toothbrush—he could see the blue and the green paladins' toothbrushes immediately, but wasn't his usually right next to Pidge's?—and then worked over his teeth twice as much as usual in an attempt to return to feeling clean in his own body. He couldn't remember the last time he'd showered either, but he wasn't sure he had the strength to stand through even a quick military shower like he still remembered from the Garrison, so he shrugged off that lesser complaint and returned to his original goal of reaching the kitchen.

The re-beginning of the trip brought the entirely unpleasant feeling of the world tilting around him as he half-stumbled half-trudged through the hallway, but Keith pushed through the sensation and soon enough was able to will his way out of it for the time being; he could still feel it again every time he sniffled in the fight against his runny nose, but he could bear with that.

When Keith reached the kitchen, he was only a little surprised to find it empty. While Hunk did love to cook in his free time, he really only did it around meal times or made the occasional snack for the team. Keith had no idea what time it was, but it clearly wasn't time for lunch or dinner. He wondered a little where the rest of the paladins were, but for the moment he was more concerned with finding something he could stomach and make on his own. He'd never really gotten good at cooking—he'd been too young to learn before he'd gone to his first orphanage, and most of the time the orphanages and foster families didn't trust him to cook on his own—but he could throw something basic together on Earth. In space, it was a bit different. Every potential ingredient was a mystery, he worried if he'd be allergic to anything after one particularly bad experience a few months ago, and he just plain never had a mind for mixing the right tastes. Even back in the desert, he'd just mixed things that he knew were well-liked. He didn't know why turkey and tomato made a good sandwich, they just did, so using space supplies just about made it impossible to easily make a meal. He opted for the food goo with a small sigh instead.

At least food goo was easy enough. Keith grabbed a bowl and aimed the goo dispenser into it, careful to start with only gentle pressure on the trigger—most of the paladins had quickly learned how sensitive the dispenser was upon moving in to the castle ship after the instant pressure of the food goo had shot the first several bowls straight for the floor. When he had the half bowl of goo he was aiming for, he put the dispenser back and headed for the dining room, knowing if he went back to his room to eat in privacy, he probably wouldn't end up coming back out for the extra blankets and tissues he'd wanted so badly earlier.

His hopes for an uneventful meal were dashed when only a few spoonfuls in, a sudden sneeze sent his spoon flying to the floor. After an exasperated sigh, he tossed a disgusted look to the now tainted food. He decided against getting another bowl of goo and simply moved this one to the sink and called his now smaller than anticipated meal good enough. Okay, two goals completed. His next biggest concern was finding enough blankets and if he could, tissues would be lovely right about now.

The trip back toward the bedrooms was easier than the trip away from them. Keith had no idea where to find spare blankets, but an impish side of his mind awaked long enough to form a devious plan, and the rest of his fever-addled mind didn't put up enough of a fight against the idea to stop him. So Keith set off to steal some blankets.

Of course, he reasoned, it wouldn't be fair to steal just one person's blankets, so he'd have to be an equal opportunity thief and go for everyone's treasured blankets. It was a simple plan: hit up each paladin's bedroom on the way to his own and grab the goods before dropping off the haul in his bed and settling in for another round of semi-hibernation. With that in mind, he opened Hunk's door first, peaking in to make sure the room was empty before he darted—in his mind at least; had anyone else been watching, they'd describe it more like a quick stagger—toward the bed. He lost his balance in the dive for the blanket but he caught himself on the bed before he fell and recovered. Moving more slowly now, he grabbed his prize with a pleased smile.

He repeated the process for Lance's and Shiro's rooms, but he found Pidge's room occupied when he opened the door. She seemed too absorbed in something or other to notice that her door had opened, and he decided to call his haul of three blankets plus some bottled water from Lance's room good enough. He tiptoed away from Pidge's still-open door and made his best attempt at a quiet jog to his own room.

He laid down the blankets and smiled at the multicolored nest on his mattress before stripping himself of yesterday's clothes and grabbing his rarely used paladin pajamas. A shower was in order among other things, but those could wait awhile longer. The pajamas were soft and warm, the bed was soft and warm, and Keith wanted to be soft and warm. And so he crawled into the newly made nest and slept.