Yooooo. Here’s The Third And Final Part (Part One Can Be Found Here, Part Two Can Be Found Here).  Honestly

Yooooo. Here’s the third and final part (Part one can be found here, Part two can be found here).  Honestly there was less Shiro whump in this than I had planned, oops.  Sorry.  Please let me know what you think, and also please send me prompts or asks or anything, I really wanna make more friends on here XD

Shiro was…well, if we were being honest, Shiro wasn’t doing too hot. Lance was asleep next to him, and had moved so he was lying with his head in Shiro’s lap, and his legs in Keith’s.

Keith was on his phone, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated on whatever game he was playing.  

Shiro closed his eyes, grimacing at the throbbing in his head.

“Hey, Keith?” “Hmm?” Keith mumbled absentmindedly.   “Lance is out for the night, I think I’m going to go back to my place…sleep in an actual bed.” Keith looked at him, panic stricken.  “You’re leaving? Why-why-why are you leaving? you don’t need to go anywhere!” Shiro sighed.  “Keith, I need to sleep in an actual bed.  You’ll be okay on your own.” “What if he wakes up?” He was barely concealing his annoyance now. “Keith.” “Okay, okay. Um…what do I do with him?” Shiro sighed again. “He can have more medicine at eleven.  If he wakes up again, give him some then.  If he stays asleep, leave him be.” “Can I call you if I need something.” “You won’t.” “But if I do?” Shiro rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Fine.  Yes.  But I think you’ll be fine.”

Shiro slipped out from under Lance.  Luckily he didn’t even stir, and just stretched out even more.  The moment Shiro was standing up, black spots clouded his vision, and he nearly pitched forward. He caught himself at the last minute on the back of the couch.  

Keith narrowed his eyes.  “Stand much?” Shiro shot him a flat look. “Very funny.  Alright, I’m gonna go.  Let Lance know I’ll be here around nine.” He shot him a thumbs up.  “Will do.”

Shiro made it back to his apartment a lot slower than usual.  It was only a five minute drive, but because he was so sleepy and felt so out of it, it took him fifteen.  He didn’t really remember the drive, but he didn’t crash so it must have been somewhat okay.

Once he was inside, he nearly collapsed on the couch that was too short for his six foot frame to stretch out on.  He didn’t care, though.  He was far too tired to make it another six feet to his bedroom.  

Despite his exhaustion, Shiro didn’t sleep that night. Then again, he never slept when he felt shitty, and man, did he feel shitty.

His entire body was aching, and he was sure the achiness was exacerbated by the couch he had to curl up on to fit.  It felt smaller, somehow.  By that point, he was too tired, and had no energy to get up, so he resigned to staying on the tiny uncomfortable couch.  He tossed and turned the entire night, and eventually tumbled to the floor, where he landed with a dull thud, and low groan of pain. His head was throbbing much worse now, and Shiro wasn’t sure if he had smacked it on the ground when he landed, or if the act of falling just angered it.  

Lance woke up the next morning, and rubbed a hand over his face.  He felt better for the first time in days, but he was nowhere near one hundred percent.  None of his symptoms were gone completely, except maybe the fever (which got rid of his achiness).  They were all just less severe.

“Oh good.  You’re awake.” Lance inhaled sharply and rubbed his eyes as he looked at Keith, who was leaning back against the wall next to the doorway to the kitchen.  “What time is it?” He mumbled sleepily. “Just past eight. Shiro said he’d be here around nine.” “Shiro?” He mumbled, his brain muddled from sleep.  “What? I thought he was here.” “He wanted to go sleep in his bed or something, I don’t know.” Keith shrugged.  “How are you feeling?” “Uh…better, I guess.” He rasped. “I finally don’t feel like death.” Keith cracked a smile. “Well that’s an improvement. You should go get ready. Shiro should be here soon.”

And he was, thirty minutes later.  Lance had thrown on a pair of sweats, a ratty t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie, not caring how shitty he looked, because he still felt shitty and couldn’t bring himself to care.  He was lying down on the couch when there was a weak rapping on the door.  Lance pushed himself off the couch, trudged to the door and threw it open.

“Hey Shir-oh.  Dude, are you alright? You look like hell.” “Yeah, just tired.” Shiro muttered, shooting him a weak, tired smile. “Just tired?” Lance said, quirking a brow at him.   “I had a hard time sleeping last night.” Shiro shrugged.  “Anyways, are you ready to go get this done?” Lance nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes at Shiro.  “Yeah, but if you’re not feeling great, maybe you should take a day and just rest.” Shiro rolled his eyes (which felt so heavy and hurt so bad). “Let’s just go.” “But are you-” “-I’m fine, Lance.  How are you feeling?” “Better.”

*

By lunch time, Shiro was definitely sick. He locked himself in his classroom, using the ‘I really want to get this all cleaned and organized without distractions’ excuse.  In reality, he was huddled underneath his desk, barely conscious and shivering.  He was freezing, but his skin was slick with sweat, and his shirt was sticking to him uncomfortably. He definitely had a fever now, and he told himself he just needed a fifteen minute cat nap, and he’d be okay after waking up.

The congestion finally hit him thirty minutes after he got to his classroom, as did the awful sore throat that felt like he had been gargling knives anytime he spoke or swallowed.  

“Hey, Shiro?” Lance rasped, knocking on the door.  Shiro shot up into a sitting position, and then groaned in pain as the throbbing in his temples increased. “Hold on.” He croaked weakly.  He pushed himself to his feet, and walked on legs that felt like jello to his door. He opened it, coughing into his fist.   “You ARE sick!” Lance cried, pointing an accusing finger at the larger man. “I’m f-” He turned from Lance, pinching his nose as he stifled what must have been ten sneezes in quick succession.  The fit left him panting, and his eyes watering as he coughed lightly.   “You are not. Shiro, come on.” Shiro sniffled, turning around and walking to the tissue box on his desk.  “Landce, I’mb finde…allergies, or sombething.” “You don’t have allergies, you idiot.  Come on, let’s leave.” Shiro blew his nose, and then wiped under it with the tissue and tossed it in the trash can.  “I don’t need to.” “You’ve been here for almost four hours, and your classroom isn’t any closer to being clean than it was when we got here.” Shiro sniffled weakly in response.  “Go back to your classroom.” “No.  I’m not going back to my classroom.” Lance spat, throwing his hands in the air.  “Will you just QUIT the tough guy act? I know how shitty you feel, I’ve been there for the last five days. Now stop it, let’s go home, you need to sleep. We can come back tomorrow if you’re really that desperate to get your classroom clean.

Either Lance was a hell of a lot more persuasive than he thought he was, or he really didn’t feel well.  Either way, Shiro nodded in agreement, visibly deflating as his eyelids drooped and he swayed on his feet.  

Lance wrapped an arm around his waist.  “Alright, big guy.  Please don’t pass out on me, just get to the car.”

Shiro was a solid wall of muscle, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest.  Lance, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.  He was much shorter - a good five inches - and was small and wiry.  If Shiro collapsed, he would definitely take Lance down with him and Lance would probably die.  

Lance managed to get him to the car.  He’s not sure how, because Shiro was very unsteady, and very out of it (but he did it).

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, watching as Shiro clambered into the front passengers seat of the car.  

“Keith, I need a favor.” “Yes?” Keith asked, sounding distracted. He was most likely writing the manuscript of his latest novel.  Usually Lance didn’t bother him too much while he was working, but he needed him. “Dude, I need your focus.” “What is it?” “You need to come get us.” “What? Why?” “Shiro’s sick.  He’s really out of it and in no condition to be driving us home.” “Can’t you drive?” “I’m exhausted.  I feel like shit, man.  Can you please just come?” Keith sighed.  “Yeah, okay.”

*

Lance was better by the next morning. He still had some lingering effects from the flu, but he was better. Shiro, on the other hand, was worse, and had what seemed to be the flu/head cold from hell. It was all in his sinuses and head.  The coughing had gone away completely, and instead, there was an annoying, almost constant buzzing feeling in his sinuses.  He was sneezing what felt like every fifteen seconds.  He had already gone through a box and a half of tissues, and was laid up on the sofa, despite how (weakly) adamant he was that he was FINE.

“His fever’s pushing one hundred and three.” Lance groaned, staring at the thermometer.  “Go get some washcloths. We’ve gotta get it down.” “Yeah, okay.  You know, I never signed on as caretaker for you guys.” Lance rolled his eyes.  “Okay, well you didn’t do shit because you don’t know how to take care of someone.  Stop complaining and go get the washcloths.” “Yeah, whatever.”

Shiro sniffled, going into another weak sneezing fit.  His sneezes sounded exhausted at this point, and like they were clawing their way out of his throat. He sounded miserable, and Lance felt awful for getting him sick.  

“Shiro?” Lance asked anxiously.   He sniffled.  “What?” “Sorry you’re sick.” Shiro just shrugged listlessly, his eyelids drooping.  They snapped open when he sneezed again, and he moaned in discomfort and annoyance.  “I’mb really sick of sndeezindg.” “I think we have some decongestants.  Let me go check on that.” Shiro nodded, closing his eyes again.  

Once the damp washcloths were on his forehead, and the medicine had kicked in, he was finally drowsy enough to fall asleep.  Which he did, and it was the most restful sleep he’d had in the past week.