#ive been sick with a stomach bug this past week and i have barely any energy but im working through it!!!!

[chocochat]

late night workout..（´-`）.｡oO

[king-finnigan]

5 times Jaskier got sick and 1 time Geralt did

As part of my 500 followers celebration! Masterlist!

CW: being sick, vomiting

***

I.

He sneezes, and Geralt looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you getting sick?”

Jaskier scoffs, shakes his head, and continues prodding at the fire. “No.” He sneezes again. “Okay, maybe.”

“Hmm.”

He frowns. “Ooh, now that’s a ‘hmm’ I haven’t heard before. What does it mean?”

Geralt rolls his eyes and looks away, as Jaskier sneezes again. “It means I’m not going to take care of you if you get sick.”

Jaskier sneezes again. “Yeah, I figured that much.” He rubs at his eyes, which are slightly swollen from all the sneezing. “I’ll just firmly tell my body not to get sick, then. That always works.”

“Hmm.” He recognizes that one as a slightly amused ‘hmm’, and he smiles in triumph. Over the past few years, it has become a bit of a personal challenge to make Geralt laugh or smile as much as possible, and, while low on the tier list of ‘how amused is Geralt of Rivia?’, an amused ‘hmm’ is better than nothing. At least it’s better than an unamused ‘hmm’.

Like the one he gets, now, when he suddenly dissolves into a bout of coughing. “It’s fine,” he chokes out when he finally regains his breath. “Not getting sick.”

“We’re stopping at the next inn. You’ll stay there until you get better, and I’ll get some contracts.”

He wants to whine, tell Geralt he’s fine and he’s coming along with these contracts, but when he starts coughing again, he can’t help but admit that the Witcher is right. Though, when Geralt leaves him behind at the inn the next day, he finds himself wishing Geralt would stay.

 II.

He’s performing ‘Toss a Coin’ when he sneezes. The audience laughs, and he plays it off as a joke, making fun of himself, so the audience won’t, before he continues with his song. After he’s done, he graciously accepts his payment and a pint of ale, before he saunters over to the corner of the tavern, sitting down opposite Geralt.

“You sneezed,” is the first thing the Witcher says to him.

“Hello, Jaskier, what a lovely performance, Jaskier, thank you for paying for our dinner tonight, Jaskier,” he says in a mock-gruff voice. He sighs, rolls his eyes. “Really, Geralt, we talked about your conversational skills.”

“You sneezed.”

He dramatically lifts his hands. “So what? People sneeze all the time! It’s dusty in here, Witcher.”

“Your voice is rough.”

“Yes, that’s what you get for performing for three hours straight. You’re welcome, by the way.” He plonks his full coin pouch on the table, gesturing at it, eyebrows in his hairline.

“You’re snotty.”

“Well, now you’re just being downright insulting, Geralt. After all these years of me traveling by your side, and you have the audacity-“

“Jaskier. I can tell you’re getting sick.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s fine.”

Geralt looks at him, blinking slowly, almost lazily. His expression is almost bored, but Jaskier can tell from the little muscle that’s pulling at his lips, that the Witcher is getting annoyed. “Hmm.” Now that’s an ‘I don’t believe you for shit but I’m tired of arguing’-hmm, he can tell.

“Alright, maybe it’s not fine.” He points at Geralt. “But don’t you dare leave me at an inn again, like last time.”

“Why not?”

Cause it hurt my feelings, and I would love for you to take care of me when I’m sick. “I don’t want to miss out on any contracts and potential inspiration.”

“Hmm.” An ‘I can tell you’re lying’-hmm.

He simply changes the subject, for now, and hopes he doesn’t get sick in the next couple of days. He thanks all his lucky stars when he doesn’t.

 III.

He tries to keep quiet as he leans one hand against the tree, the other on his stomach as he retches, emptying the contents of his stomach in the leaves. He must’ve eaten something bad, or caught a stomach bug. He decides it doesn’t really matter, though, as another wave of nausea rolls over him. He gags again, trying to not make any sound.

Of course, it doesn’t work, and he soon hears Geralt’s voice behind him. “Jaskier.”

He closes his eyes, trying to keep down the bile that rises in his throat. “I’m fine.” The clipped and strained sound of his voice begs to differ.

“Hmm.” A ‘not even Roach would believe that’-hmm. Then: “Are you done?”

He holds up a finger, chokes down one last gag, before he stands up straight, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “I’m fine, let’s go.”

He turns around to find Geralt frowning at him, confused. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No. We’re not going anywhere but back to camp.”

He sighs. “I’m fine! We can go to the next town, don’t worry about it.”

“Hmm.” He narrows his eyes. Once again a ‘hmm’ he can’t identify. Strange. “Come on, Jaskier.”

He sighs, but follows Geralt back to camp, laying down on his bedroll when the Witcher motions at it. He does have to admit, laying down makes him feel a lot better, and pretty soon he finds himself dozing off to the rhythmic sound of Geralt sharpening his blades.

When he wakes in the morning, the Witcher gives him a piece of… some sort of root. “Ginger,” the Witcher explains roughly. “Helps.”

Jaskier shrugs and eats it. It doesn’t taste entirely pleasant, but it does make him feel better, and by midday, he’s ready to set out on the road again.

 IV.

“You’re limping.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“Hmm.” Another ‘I don’t believe you’-hmm. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

Jaskier stops walking when he no longer hears Roach’s hooves on the dusty path behind him, and he turns around. “Nothing! It’s really fine, there’s nothing going on. I appreciate you worrying, though, it’s very endearing.”

“Jaskier.”

He sighs, then shrugs. “Okay, maybe I got a cut on my leg last week that healed badly. So what? I assure you I’m perfectly fine, Witcher.” He starts stammering when Geralt dismounts Roach, stalking towards him. “A- and there is absolutely no reason for you to walk towards me, in- in a vaguely threatening manner- Geralt!”

He lets out an angry huff when the Witcher bends down, yanking the leg of his breeches up. “Hmm.” An ‘I’m very angry right now, but not at you’-hmm. “It’s infected.”

He shrugs again, pointedly looking everywhere but the reddened skin that surrounds the cut. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about, r-really, and-“

He scrunches his face in confusion when Geralt lays a hand against his forehead. “You’ve got a fever. Get on Roach.”

“Geralt, as much as I have longed for you to say those three words for the past ten years, I assure you I’m perfectly fine.”

“Get. On. Roach.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright! Melitele’s tits, Geralt, if I’d known you’d kick up such a fuss over a simple flesh wound, I would’ve been more careful.”

“Hmm. You should be.”

He sighs, rolls his eyes, as he climbs on Roach. Geralt climbs on the horse behind him, and Jaskier tries to fight the furious blush that starts spreading across his cheeks at the feeling of Geralt’s chest against his back. They set out to the nearest town, where the Witcher gets a room at the inn and drags him to the herbalist for something against the infection.

The ointment the old lady gives them works wonders, and within two days, the infection has cleared.

 V.

It’s hard to breathe. Harder to move. Opening his eyes for more than two seconds isn’t even an option, anymore, and every time he does manage to pry his eyelids apart, the world is swimming around him, making bile rise in his throat. He’s hot. No- he’s cold. But now he’s hot again, and he’s sweating, but he’s also shivering, and good gods, what did he do to deserve this?

He sighs when he feels something cold and wet and rough against his forehead, seeping away some of the heat. He doesn’t know whether the droplet that slides down the side of his head is sweat or water, but he decides it doesn’t matter when a bout of coughing wracks through his body.

He’s tired, he’s so bloody tired, but he can’t fall asleep when the temperature keeps changing from hot to cold to hot again, when his lungs keep constricting in his chest pathetically, making him cough and wheeze, desperate for any gulp of air he manages to suck in. The shivering becomes uncontrollable, unbearable, even though he’s sweating, still. He finally manages to pry open his eyes, finding the room around him blurry and dark. He looks around, desperate for anything recognizable, anything that doesn’t give him the feeling that he’s floating in a vast ocean of his own goddamn sweat. Finally, he finds something silver, to his right.

“Geralt,” he manages to croak out, desperately gasping for breath soon afterwards.

“I’m here.” He could cry at that familiar voice, and he might actually be, when he feels another droplet slide down the side of his head.

“I feel like shit.”

“Hmm.” And amused ‘hmm’. But slightly worried as well. “Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“It hurts.” It does. Everything hurts. His muscles hurt, his lungs hurt, his head hurts, his eyes hurt. It fucking hurts.

Someone wipes his sweaty hair away from his forehead, knuckles trailing down his cheek lightly, and he figures someone else must be in the room because Geralt would never be this gentle with him. It’s already a bloody miracle he’s still here, really. “I know, Jaskier. I know. Try to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Will you be there? When I wake up?”

“Hmm.” That’s a ‘yes’-hmm.

He sighs, his lungs aching. “Good. Cause I don’t want to wake up at all if you’re not there.” His eyes drift closed again, and he finds himself slipping into unconsciousness.

---

When he wakes up, he finds Geralt next to the bed, stuffed into an entirely too small chair, asleep. No way the position he’s in is comfortable – his neck craned at an awkward angle, his back barely supported by the hard wood. But he’s there, just as he had promised to Jaskier.

The bard smiles, and reaches out, pushing at Geralt’s knee. The Witcher wakes, amber eyes widening when he sees Jaskier. He immediately bends forward, laying his hand against Jaskier’s forehead, eyes studying his face. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit better.” He smiles. “You’re here.”

“I told you I would be.”

He laughs softly, eyes drifting closed again, sleep pulling at him limbs. “That, you did.” He shivers, the heat of the fever no longer keeping him warm. “Geralt, I’m cold.”

“There are no more blankets.”

He pouts, reaches out, eyes still closed. “You’re warm.”

He hears a long-suffering sigh, then the creaking of the chair. Footsteps across the room. He feels the dip of the bed behind him, feels strong arms closing around him, and he sighs in content, before frowning. “Won’t you get sick?”

“Witchers don’t get sick.”

“Okay,” he whispers, before falling asleep in Geralt’s arms.

---

By the time they finally leave the inn, several days later, neither of them has mentioned what happened, and Jaskier doubts either of them will.

 + I

He doesn’t think much of it when Geralt coughs a few times. He does find it strange when it happens more and more in the next few days. He grows suspicious when a fine sheen of sweat appears on the Witcher’s forehead, even if he says he’s fine and tells Jaskier to stop fussing over him like that, he’s just hot, is all. He’s had enough when red spots start to litter Geralt’s skin.

He forces the Witcher to go to an inn, and he’s glad he did, by the time they reach it. Geralt’s hunched over Roach’s neck, sweat dripping from his brow, his skin so spotted with red he almost looks sunburnt. Jaskier barely manages to get him up the stairs, and immediately drops him on the bed, where Geralt lays very still, staring up at the wooden ceiling, breathing heavily.

Jaskier helps him out of his armour, uncovering more and more red spots as he works his way down to Geralt’s boots.

“I’m fine,” Geralt rasps to him. He doesn’t believe it for shit.

“Yeah, no you’re not, Witcher. Looks like you’ve got yourself some measles.”

Geralt scoffs, though it sounds more like two pieces of sandpaper rubbed together. “Witchers don’t get measles.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes, taking a washcloth, wetting it with some water from his waterskin. “Well, you did, so I suggest you change your views on that, Geralt.” He sits down on the side of the bed, gently laying the washcloth over Geralt’s brow, softly pressing it down. “You’re burning up,” he whispers.

“It’s fine.”

He smiles. “Go to sleep, Geralt. Get some rest.”

The Witcher sighs. “Hmm.” A ‘fine, alright, I’ll listen’-hmm. “I’m cold.”

Jaskier laughs softly, climbing over Geralt, laying down on his other side, hugging him to his chest. “Better?”

Geralt shakes his head frantically, weakly pushing at him – the fever’s clearly already taking a toll on him. “You’ll get sick,” he rasps.

“I had the measles as a kid. I’ll be fine, Witcher.”

“Hmm.” A content ‘hmm’. Then, suddenly: “Thank you, Jaskier. I love you.”

Geralt’s breathing evens out, as Jaskier pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down on his Witcher. Geralt is fast asleep, breathing deep and steady, face relaxed from its eternal frown. Jaskier smiles, laying down again, pulling his Witcher closer. “I love you too,” he whispers. Of course, Geralt doesn’t hear him, but he’ll say it again when he wakes up.

He’ll say it a million times if he has to – and he would mean it every time.

[hermannsthumb]

So I know you don't really write PRU things but how about PRU averting? Like when Newt starts to realize something is wrong he goes to Hermann for help?

this isn’t exactly what you wanted (at all) but the concept for this fic has been making me laugh all week. sometimes a bitch just wants to write a slightly unhinged jealous ex hermann unknowingly seducing aliens out of newt

safe for work except for some makeouts and implied past banging, but hermann tries very hard for it to not be. also ive definitely written similar plots before but who cares

—————

They send a ranger-in-training to break the news to Hermann. He’s not sure what they expected him to do, really, or how a teenager in oversized khakis might have prevented it in the first place. Rage? Cry? Break things? His relationship with Newton Geiszler has been highly publicized at this point, he supposes, down to every last gory detail; their scientific rivalry, their heated laboratory debates, their–er–rather dramatic love affair, which ended on a deeply sour note when Newton packed his bags and left Hermann for better funding and a swanky flat with more windows than walls seven years ago. As far as gossip is concerned, that is.

“Tomorrow?” Hermann says.

The ranger nods and says nothing. She’s awfully young–too young, Hermann thinks. And awfully afraid of him. Right, of course: he’s crotchety, daft old Dr. Gottlieb, notorious for his short temper and avoidance of socialization at all costs. He furrows his brow an appropriate amount and nods, as if to appear deeply consternated, or perhaps lost in brooding abstraction. “I see,” he says. “Hm. That wretched Dr. Geiszler, here, after so many years. The nerve of him. Thank you.”

The girl doesn’t move.

“Ah,” Hermann says. “Dismissed, I mean.”

Between the bare bones staff and Hermann’s incredibly low rank back in Hong Kong, he still hasn’t quite gotten used to the notion that he has things like interns and underlings again, let alone people who–when sent to deliver him a message, or paperwork, or lab equipment he submitted forms for–need to be explicitly dismissed to leave his presence. Newton would love it. Or, at the very least, he’d love teasing Hermann for it. (Control freak, that was what he’d call Hermann.) 

Back in the safety and solitude of his private laboratory, Hermann brews a fresh pot of tea and mulls the news over. It’ll hardly be the first time Newton’s set foot at the Moyulan Shatterdome. It’ll hardly be the first time Hermann will have seen Newton since the Events of seven years ago, either. It will, however, be the first occasion on which the two collide: Newton always seems to schedule his routine Moyulan visits when Hermann is tucked safely away in some conference or council in some other bloody country, leaving their paths to cross at the most inane social events, banquets and fundraisers and black tie occasions that leave Hermann stifling under his collar and his leg aching from the strain of standing for so long. 

Their words to each other in such situations have always been terse, brief, polite. Newton, after all, is a very important (and very rich) man these days, and he has plenty of elbows to bump and high society buggers to flatter without Hermann getting in his way. It’s pleasantries, is all. Lovely to see you, Dr. Geiszler. How’s work, Dr. Geiszler? The champagne is excellent, isn’t it, Dr. Geiszler? By Jove, it’s maddening. Just once Hermann would like to shout and snap at him like the good old days, to grab hold of that stupid bloody tie and shove him against a wall and kiss him, or bite him, or do anything that isn’t smile and pretend to care when he mentions that–that Alice floozy he’s shacking up with. And now, with Newton finally giving Hermann a window to meet in his own territory…

Hermann keeps a small volume of Newton’s early research on his desk–compiled long before he even knew the man–and he takes it out now, slipping a well-worn polaroid out from between its pages and propping it against his tea mug. Newton smiles out at him. “Horrible little man,” Hermann says, lovingly, and gently brushes his index finger against that handsome face.

He feigns a stomach bug to clock out of work early–fooling no one, of course, but his staff chalks it up sympathetically to the prospect of seeing his notorious ex tomorrow and says nothing–and makes a mad dash into town for a haircut and manicure. After some consideration, he pops into a clothing store for a new button-down, too. A nice one. One that fits him well. (You have a hot bod, dude, Newton would always say, you should be flaunting it. 

No, no raging, or crying, or breaking things. It’s been seven years since Newton walked out on Hermann for a cushy job and designer suits, and Hermann has exactly one course of action in mind: winning him back.

——

Newton is not exactly as Hermann remembered. The changes in him are noticeable, and–for the most part, barring the loss of his glasses and personal sense of style–Hermann feels entirely neutral about them: hair more neatly tamed, stubble more neatly shaved, body ever-so-slightly more toned. Hermann seems to recall Newton saying something about CrossFit or some sort of damned exercise bike he bought at the last banquet they attended–lost ten pounds this past month! New Year’s Resolution, you know, ha, gotta stay in shape for Alice (and this was the point at which Hermann clenched his champagne flute so tightly it burst, and he excused himself to find a napkin with which to tend to his bleeding and a tall glass of whiskey from the open bar with which to tend to his agonies). Whatever it is, it seems to be working.

He manages to lure Newton out from under the thumb of his boss with vague claims of research, though Newton is not happy about it. “I got shit to do, man,” he complains. His eyes are inscrutable behind his expensive sunglasses. “It’s just not a good time. Busy, busy, busy, you know.”

They’ll have the laboratory to themselves, even more so than usual. I’ll need to have a few private words with Dr. Geiszler, Hermann had ominously announced to his staff that morning, and they’d all looked at each other in excitement. An infamous Geiszler-Gottlieb row! Hermann locks the door behind them.

“You poor dear,” Hermann says. “Running yourself ragged. You must be exhausted.”

Newton shrugs. “I am a little. I guess.” He shrugs again, and this time preens a little with it. Good: Hermann wants him nice and flattered. “It’s hard work being as important as I am, you know.”

“I imagine,” Hermann coos sympathetically. He brushes his hand across Newton’s shoulders, then nudges him at the small of his back towards his desk. “Please, Newt, I insist you have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”

“I mean, if you’re offering,” Newton says, waving him off.

The instant coffee is located on the middle shelf of Hermann’s bookcase, between a dusty variety box of Twinings and an elaborate kaiju action figure Newton left in their apartment when he walked out. Hermann spoons some into a chipped blue mug and watches Newton through the man’s reflection on the kettle. He leans back in Hermann’s desk chair; he rolls his shoulders; he pops open a button on his maroon suit coat; he spies something propped up on Hermann’s desk, and picks it up. The polaroid. Hermann ducks his head to hide his smile.

“Good times, huh, dude?” Newton says. He waves it in the air.

“Mm,” Hermann says. 

He hands the mug of coffee over to Newton, who’s yet to put down the polaroid. Milk and plenty of sugar. Exactly the way Newton always used to take it. “There we are, dear,” he says. “Are you hungry? Might I get you anything to eat? I’ve plenty of biscuits, and, er...” He casts a guilty glance around the mess of his workspace. “...Oranges.”

“No thanks,” Newton says, but it’s vague, unconvincing. His eyes are locked on the photograph. “Good times,” he repeats. 

“Nothing to eat at all?” Hermann says.

Newton shakes himself. “Nah,” he says, and pats his stomach. “On a diet. You know, for Alice.”

Ah, of course; Alice. The mystery woman Hermann despises the very existence of. For years after Newton first broke the news to Hermann he was seeing someone new, Hermann used to pour over magazine articles and gossip sites for even a glimpse of what she might look like (and for the chance to do something cathartic, like crop her angrily from a photograph with Newton or scribble over her face with a Sharpie). Probably horrendously ugly; possibly blonde; undoubtedly lacking taste, and humor, and any other sorts of qualities a mate worthy of Newton ought to possess. At the very least, Hermann knows she isn’t at all supportive of Newton in the way she should be. Every banquet and fundraiser, she’s too busy to come, every dinner invitation Hermann finally accepts so he may properly hate the woman, she must cancel at the very last minute due to some strange illness or another. 

Privately, Hermann thinks she feels threatened by him. As she should be. He and Newton have been in each other’s heads, after all, wrote letters in their youth, shared a laboratory for years, shared a bed for longer than that. It’s a simple fact one will ever know Newton like Hermann knows him.

“Of course,” Hermann says, with icy kindness. “For Alice. How is she these days? I was ever so put out when she caught–what was it–influenza, yes, that night we were meant to dine together. And the time before that, with pneumonia. And laryngitis before that. Terrific bloody coincidences, aren’t they.”

(Sorry, dude, Newton said over the phone, not sounding very sorry, but rather quite distracted. She was probably in the room, egging on his lies. She's sick. Can’t see you after all. Rain check?)

“Yeah,” Newton says. He’s started to shake his leg up and down, a nervous tic Hermann is all too aware of, seeing as he’s picked it up himself after their drift. Along with an annoying tendency to hoard sentimental rubbish. “Coincidences. If I’m being honest, Hermann–I’m not too keen on you two–well.” A strange look crosses his face, replaced in a blink of an eye with a toothy smile. “Old flame and the new flame, it’d be awkward for everyone, y’know?”

“Especially for her, I’d imagine,” Hermann says, and then he swings himself down into Newton’s lap.

Newton goes very still; the photograph slips from his fingers and flutters to the floor. “Hermann?” he squeaks.

Dropping his cane, Hermann nuzzles his face into the crook of Newton’s neck and breathes deeply; the Newton of his memories smells of burnt coffee and the sharp tang of preservation chemicals, but the Newton of now smells more of expensive cologne than anything else. Hermann can’t say he likes it much, but he presses a small kiss there anyway, marveling at the lack of the scratchy stubble he remembers so well. “What–what are you doing?” Newton says.

Another kiss. Hermann slips a hand up to caress Newton’s jaw, and Newton shivers. “I should think it’s obvious,” Hermann says. “Mm. Come on, now, love, I know I can’t be the only one of us who’s been aching for this.”

“It’s,” Newton stammers, “I,” and his sturdy fingers grip Hermann’s waist, though he makes no move to shove him away. In fact, he only draws him closer. Marvelous. “I’ve got–someone, dude,” he says, gazing at Hermann between heavy eyelids. “Alice. I have–”

Hermann kisses him, pouring into it every ounce of longing he’s felt for the last seven years, and Newton melts against him with a moan. “But does she make you feel the way I do?” Hermann murmurs. 

“Uh,” Newton says.

He swipes his tongue into Newton’s mouth, enjoying the sharp jolt that shoots through Newton when he brushes against his own tongue, and pulls back with a small bite at his bottom lip. Newton always liked when Hermann kissed him messily. “Do feel free to touch me,” he says.

Newton does: one hand leaves Hermann’s waist and inches up his side instead, pausing to shove one half of his lab coat off, then the other. The coat slips to the floor as well. Newton splays five fingers over Hermann’s right pectoral. “Nice shirt,” he says, sounding rather dazed. “Good color on you.”

“I’d hoped you like it,” Hermann says happily. “Remember what you always used to say, about flaunting it? I thought it was time I’d take your advice.”

“I do,” Newton says. “I do remember. Ha.” His face splits into a grin, one of the first truly Newton-esque ones Hermann’s seen on him in years, and Hermann feels a small flare of triumph. He catches the hand at his chest and draws it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. Newton’s tattoos, vibrant as ever, poke out from beneath one maroon sleeve.

Hermann remembers kissing those tattoos. He remembers tracing the shape of red-yellow waves with his fingertips, of pinching the eyes of the great kaiju splashed across his chest, of teasing Newton for his rather unadorned arse and how pale it was in comparison to the rest of him. You’re one to talk, buddy, Newton would say, and he’d deliver a playful smack to Hermann’s, all skin and bones, dude, I think I bruised my hand. He used to like to keep his glasses on in bed so he could see Hermann. Make sure it’s actually happening, he’d say. His sunglasses are folded uselessly on Hermann’s desk. “I could make you so loud,” Hermann says. “We’d get noise complaints. Remember?”

Newton nods, eyes fixed on the knuckles Hermann kissed.

“I knew exactly where to touch you,” Hermann says, dropping his voice, “and how to touch you. I still do, Newton.” Newton dissolves into whimpers when his neck is kissed, a certain spot by his left thigh pressed on with a thumb; when being made love to, he likes his sides stroked, fingers pressed against his tongue; when doing the love making, he likes his hair pulled, nails raked across his back.

“Please,” Newton says, his voice cracking. “Can you–?”

Hermann shoves that ugly maroon jacket to the floor, then winds that ugly tie around his fingers and gives Newton a sharp tug. Newton moans, twice as loud as before. “Yes, darling, of course.”

They kiss, Hermann making quick work of the buttons of Newton’s shirt, Newton seemingly too shy to do anything beyond grip Hermann’s shoulders. A pink blush is spreading from the tips of his cheeks down to his neck. It’s very sweet. “Hermann,” he says.

“Mm?”

Newton wets his lips. “You like when I do this,” he says, and gives Hermann’s ear a little tug.

(They’re so big, Newton would say, it’s adorable, you’re adorable, and Hermann would swat him away, but then Newton would kiss the shell of his ear, bite his earlobe, and Hermann would gasp, and sensitive! Newton would say, adorable, absolutely adorable.)

“They’re sensitive,” Newton says. “You like when I kiss them.” He grins again, though it slips away after a moment. “I think they’ll be looking for me soon.”

“You are so terribly important, after all,” Hermann says. “It’s a very good thing I’ve locked the door. I haven’t finished having my wicked way with you yet.”

This time, Newton laughs, though it’s an uncertain little thing. “Listen,” he says, strangely urgent, and he squeezes Hermann’s arm. “Don’t let me leave, okay?” Then he shakes his head. “Actually, no. Take me home with you. Away from–from work. And Alice. Yeah. Let’s go now.”

This is unexpected, though Hermann cannot deny it’s not exactly what he hoped would happen when his foolproof plan of seduction worked. He’s suddenly very pleased he made a few more stops after picking up his new shirt: first for a very expensive bottle of wine and the makings of a dinner the Newton of ten years ago loved, the next a rather discreet one for the sort of supplies they’d need to, er, take this one step further. “Oh, yes,” Hermann says. “Oh, darling, absolutely. Er–now now?”

“Now,” Newton says. He plants a series of discoordinated, rapid-fire kisses across Hermann’s mouth and chin. “Now,” he repeats. “Keep talking to me.”

“About what?” Hermann says, frowning.

“Anything,” Newton says. “And touch me. Keep touching me. Hermann–when we get there, I have to tell you–”

“Alright, Newton, alright,” Hermann says. He did forget how needy Newton could get. He’s also missed it. He strokes back some of Newton’s neat hair, gropes around for his cane, and eases himself to his feet with a small groan. (He’s not quite as young or agile as he used to be.) Newton immediately springs to his own feet and latches onto Hermann’s arm. He's not merely needy tonight--a bit on edge, too, it seems. “Off we are, then. Be a dear and get my coat for me.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under A Purple Rain prt 8 full draft

When Lance fell asleep in his lap in their bath, Keith let him rest. His husband looked so incredibly fragile as he placed the entirety of his trust in Keith protecting him. For Keith's part, he couldn't keep his hands off Lance's stomach, rubbing softly until his husband moaned in his sleep and he was forced to behave himself. The quintant was definitely not how things were supposed to go. Lance was supposed to have a simple bug or something. Something he knew how to handle and how to be there for. Not a baby... or twins... Twins... as in two... Finding his hand gripping Lance's stomach by his fingertips, his husband roused slightly. By his estimate, they'd probably been in the bathtub for the last two vargas or so

"Keith?"

"I'm here..."

"You're playing with my tummy..."

"It's a cute little tummy"

Moving to nuzzle at Keith's jawline, Lance gave a small yawn before kiss him randomly

"We're having a baby"

"Yeah... we're even having two..."

"You knocked me up good like you said you would"

"This is true... How do you feel?"

Lance snorted as if something was funny

"Honestly... exhausted and horny... if I'm not sick, scared, freaking out or sleeping, I've been really fucking horny... Not like... not like in my heat, but at the same time, I feel it... like a bite... you know, it's there but you can't scratch it... or rather, I've been trying to not scratch it..."

No wonder Lance had snorted. Horny wasn't on Keith's list of expected replies. Chuckling affectionately, he kissed his lover's hair

"We can't have that..."

  Letting his hand slide down between Lance's legs, Lance whimpered at touch, grabbing Keith's hand and moving it back up to his stomach

"I can't... I can't... I'm too scared"

Keith wasn't particularly in the mood, he only wanted to comfort his husband

"Babe, its only me and you here. No one else... you can let go. Leave it to me..."

"It's dirty... I'm dirty"

"You're not dirty. Your body is clean..."

"But..."

"Do you remember the first time? When you asked me to take the feeling of their touches away? To replace them? Let me touch you... not sex, just touching. You're stressed, exhausted and confused... rely on me"

"It feels dirty... my skin feels itchy"

"Then let touch you... cover you in my  scent so you know I'm here"

"I'm..."

"Babe, I'm not trying to push you... I want you to know you're safe. To feel completely safe. You're in our bathroom. It's just you and me... let me give you some release"

"I feel so sick from the feeling..."

"Then let me make you feel better"

"But what about you? You still don't know how you feel about this pregnancy"

"I don't think either of us know..."

"I want to want it..."

"Then let yourself want it. Let yourself be happy..."

"I don't know if I remember how..."

"I know you do. I never should have started yelling at you..."

Let his hand wander back down, Keith grasped Lance's half erection. Whining into his ear, Lance's breath was hot... and his husband really needed to brush his teeth

"Everyone was telling me how shit a job I've done being there for you. Shiro was disappointed I broke that promise. I was disappointed no one could give me a straight answer... I can't understand if you don't talk to me"

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I don't want to be a burden..."

Twisting to hide his face, Keith jerked Lance off slowly, his free hand rubbing circles on the soft skin that would soon stretch as he swelled. Moaning into his touch, Lance spread his legs further. If their was one major pro to the Galra having built the outpost, it was that their baths were big enough for 4 humans of their size to fit. It was akin to a small swimming pool in that regard, with taps that activated by waving your hand underneath them. Being able to just barely reach within sensor distance with his toes, that's how he'd kept the water from getting too cool during Lance's nap. With how pent to his husband was, it only took a few doboshes for Lance to cum with a soft sigh of relief. Feeling for the plug chain with his toes, Keith pulled it free and gathered Lance up into his arms

"You with me, babe?"

Nuzzling him affectionately Lance took his hand in his

"I think I needed that..."

"I think you might have needed that too..."

"I can't... bring myself to do it alone... it feels wrong"

"I swear to give you all the hand jobs you want or need"

Laughing softly, Lance finally stopped nuzzling into his neck

"You might need too... I'm going to get so fat..."

"Not fat. You're stomach's going to swell up with our children"

"Mmm... yours... I... I don't know if I... it's scary... but not as scary as being raped into pregnancy... I... truly love you Keith... you're my world... I keep trying to do better but nothing works out right... it feels like every step I take forward, I'm swept right back to the start... I don't want to go back to the start"

"You're not back at the start... You're not. You're doing so much better"

"Am I? I feel like I've been in a constant panic attack since I found out. I can't sleep without Shiro there because if he's there, then they're not... I had a seizure I can't even remember... and... I blacked out so badly I forgot who Shiro was... I thought I was back there... he put me to bed, but when I woke up I still thought it... these stupid dreams are so fucking vivid... and I... I broke my promises to you... I've only known for a few quintants now and if I'm this bad already... how am I going to get through this?"

"You're going to get through this because we've both hit the end of our emotional rope. I can't... I can't keep leaving you. I can't stand not being with you..."

"You have so many obligations"

"And out of them, being your husband has always been number one. Even if it hasn't felt that way for either of us. Let's tell the others at dinner that you're coming to stay. Even if it's just for the phoeb to begin with"

"I'm scared to go to Daibazaal... they could tell I was pregnant from my scent alone. What if your team smells it on me?"

"Then I'll punch anyone who says anything in the face"

Lance gave a weak laugh

"You can't do that... I want to be excited for this..."

"Babe. You are recovering. You're allowed to be mixed up and confused because quiznak knows I am. I'm terrified, but I'm not going to walk away. Now, enough wallowing in the bath. You need to eat. I bet you haven't been keeping anything down"

"I've barely got any appetite... We need to join the others for dinner"

"Let's go by the kitchen? Hunk might have something to help the nausea"

"Ginger... is supposed to help. Lisa had bad morning sickness..."

Keith smiled. Lance seemed to be more positive, or at least he sounded more positive

"Alright. Dinner and IV bag after. Dehydrations probably making it even worse"

"I haven't been able to keep anything down"

"We'll figure this out. Together"

      *

Keith had helped him dress in a body suit beneath his husband's clothes. The fact that Keith had flipped out over the pregnancy hadn't been surprising for Lance. The fact that Keith had run hadn't been either. The fact that he'd came back... Lance was still trying to believe that. The fact that his husband had swept him up into his arms and told him that it was ok to be excited was... he had no words. Keith was excited. Keith was excited and scared like he was. Keith was excited and scared and wanted their twins... His husband hadn't left him... and even if it was pretty shitty of him to think he would, he couldn't help his stupid out of control anxieties were leaving him feeling so weak and broken it was almost like being back in the first movement on Erathus. They'd made a baby... two babies... Two living tiny people were inside his stomach right now...

  "What are you smiling about?"

Keith hadn't let him walk to the kitchen. Instead his husband was carrying him in a reverse piggyback kind of deal. Keith had offered him a piggyback, then had gotten himself all worried about putting any pressure on Lance's stomach. Now that he knew it was okayish to be ok with what was happening, he found it incredibly sweet

"You..."

  He hadn't been lying when he said he felt he was a constant panic attack. Shiro's scent was wrong, but he needed that physical human contact... his body and his mind weren't talking all that much before Keith came. Maybe because Keith was the calm in the storm that was his life... He was also the one most affected by Lance's pregnancy, being the baby daddy and all...

  "Me?"

"Yeah... I just... I'm really grateful to have you as my husband"

"I thought you were scared"

"I am. I'm fucking terrified of what's to come"

"I am too... a lot. I cried all over Shiro earlier. I didn't want to fight with you. But I still can't believe it... We hadn't had the proper kid discussion..."

"Don't you think I know that? I know how painful your past is for you... and I'm scared of what it's going to bring up for you"

"I thought I'd have time you know, being a big brother first"

  Quiznak. Right. Krolia was pregnant... The smile on his lips started slipping. Krolia should be enjoying all the attention of her only son, and his help through what was to come. Keith was going to make an absolutely amazing big brother... but he'd only get a few weeks of that before being a father.

  "You'll make an awesome big brother"

"We'll make awesome big brothers... you know mum loves you like you're her own"

"She only loves me because I love you"

"Nah. That's a bonus on top. You've really impressed her as you"

"She still scares me. I hope you know that. She's hot as hell and could snap me in half"

"I remember you saying the exact same thing before"

"It's as true now as it was then. She's not an enemy I'd like to ever make"

"Me either, honestly..."

  Keith fell into a silence that didn't quite sit right with him

"Keith... are you scared of being a big brother?"

"I..."

"You know, I mean what I said. You're going to be amazing big brother. And amazing dad. You've... been through hell. And you'd do anything you can to protect the happiness of those you care about"

"I don't know how to feel about it... now that it's actually happening... I don't have the experience"

"No. You have no idea. I've never been a big brother either..."

"You're going to be a mum... and you basically took care of all us on the Castle all the time. You're... you're going to have to teach me how to make a happy and warm family like yours"

A happy and warm family he'd started avoiding calling again... Lance couldn't picture calling home any time soon, though mami would probably call to check in on Allura day...

"You're the one who makes it happy and warm. I love you... and I know you want this... but go careful on me? When this all hits you again... and it will... if you want to run... don't hide it from me"

"I'm not going to run"

Keith had grown. In every single way possible, yet Lance knew it was still sinking it... Keith might have felt better for talking to Shiro, but how was he going to react tomorrow? Or the day after? Or the day after that?

"Babe..."

"I'm committed to you. And to them... I didn't... I didn't think... I think I'm attached to them already"

Then it would break Keith's heart if anything happened to them. That was the last thing he wanted

"I'll be careful... I'll try be careful... but babe, if we're going to Daibazaal... you're going to have to move your knives from under your bed... if I get stuck in an attack... and if I hurt you... or if I hurt me... I could... I don't want to, but I could hurt them"

"You're not going to hurt anyone"

"I hurt myself... trying to get my skin off... my face and my legs..."

"What?! Where was Shiro?!"

"Sleeping... I didn't remember until I came out of it... there was blood... I was trying to... to get Klearo off me. I'm asking you to do this for me. Kosmo's good at stopping me..."

  It was heavy. It was a heavy thing to drop on his husband. He was practically murdering Keith's happiness with his mental illness

"We can talk about it when we get there. Whatever we need to do, we'll do it together. You're my husband I love you"

"Vomit breath and all?"

"Vomit breath and all..."

   Pausing to kiss him before entering the kitchen, they were still kissing as the door opened. Letting out a long "ew", Hunk covered his eyes with a tea towel

"Guys! Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you and all, but this is a kitchen. Please tell me you haven't defiled this sacred space"

Carrying Lance over to the side bench, his husband sat him down, giving him two quick pecks on the lips, before moving to hop up and sit on the bench beside him. Lance's stomach was already starting to roll at the normal kitchen smells. Hunk had been frying something. The stink of the oil was no friend to his pregnant state. Placing his hand on his knee, Keith squeezed it lightly in a gesture of support

"Sorry, Hunk. I missed my husband"

"Only you two would be married by accident... Holy Quiznak! Lance are you alright?!"

  Meeting each other's eyes, Lance felt as if his stomach was about two ticks from betraying him. He knew he looked ill... Hunk was a natural born worrier, if he could lie his way through talking to Hunk, Hunk would reassure everyone else

"Stomach bug I picked up from an alien. Everything is still tender, but things will be better"

"Are you sure? I've seen you looking like the living dead before, bro, but this... you look like you should still be in bed. Keith, is he..."

"Lance is alright. Like he said, he picked up a bug or two. He's had a check up, and things are good"

"Did he have that check up on Altea?"

Scrunching his brow, Lance was confused

"How did you know?"

"Ah... Pidge was going to tease you, but there are photos of Shiro carrying you in his arms being circulated by the media. You know, "trouble in paradise". And "what could this mean". I recognised the hospital in the background. If you're sick, you're better off having something light... How about I whip you up some ginger tea?"

 Why would anyone care about what he and Shiro were up to on Altea? Or care enough to take photos? And if it was across the galactic press, why hadn't Shiro said anything? Did Curtis know? The last thing he wanted was for stupid rumours to ruin Shiro's happiness.

  "Hunk, my man... Thank you. Where's Tobias?"

Or their actual cooks...

"Helping with the bar. Ugh... someone wanted to trade some things..."

The way Hunk shifted his weight concerned him

"Trade what?"

"Lance, are you buying and selling drugs here?!"

  Lance felt as if the air had been driven from his lungs. Then realised that it was the awful sensation of not being able to breath because he needed to vomit. Sliding off the bench, he rushed to the sink, heaving up what could only be described as a dollop of watery spitty bile. Heaving again, his mouth was all drooly. Coming up behind him, Keith rubbed his back as Lance hacked and spat. The Cuban was already sick of vomiting. He hated how tense it left his stomach muscles, and that "morning sickness" couldn't keep its shit to only happening in the morning

"We buy and sell everything here. If we're buying them here, then we're taking them out of circulation. We buy weapons and tech too. Babe, you've got nothing left in your stomach. Rinse your mouth out"

Keith knew there was nothing left in his stomach. He knew there was nothing left in his stomach. His stomach wasn't listening though. Reaching up he fumbled the tap on, grateful Keith was there to smoothly cover things

"But they... I thought it'd happen like some kind of shady deal... In a back corner... not in the bar in front of everyone"

Rinsing his mouth half a dozen times, Lance sipped down some water cautiously. The worst part of vomiting was the longer burn and the burning kind of smell that lasted inside of him for vargas

"You've been watching too many movies, Hunk"

"I don't want to be involved with that. I never understood how people could become dependent on something so bad for them"

Standing up, Lance sank back into Keith's touch. It was fine to have a moral code, yet it rubbed him the wrong way that Hunk was acting so naive. When it came to bounty hunting, you did whatever you had to do do to get your bounty. It was literally that simple. Quiznak. If someone came in here trying to sell slaves, he'd buy them... He'd buy them, then arrest the person at the first chance he got

"No one is going to offer you drugs here. And most of the people we serve aren't good people... but without them, things around here would be dangerous. Keith, can you get me out the plain crackers? They should be in the cupboard near the first fridge"

"They're not there. Your cooks have no idea how to organise a kitchen... I think we put them over here"

  Walking to the opposite side of the kitchen, Hunk opened one of the upper cupboards. The kitchen was arranged by Lance to be the same as his kitchen at home. Knowing he was upset and uncomfortable, Keith pushed gently on his back, encouraging him to return where they were sitting before. Opening the pack of crackers, Hunk set up a few on a small plate for him. Lance would have rather picked from the pack. He wasn't sure of his strength... which was proven when the plate Hunk gave him nearly fell on the floor. If Keith hadn't acted so quickly to prevent disaster.

  Sipping in his tea and slowly working his way through his crackers, Lance nearly fell asleep when Keith started playing with his hair. Using his fingernails to lightly scratch at his scalp, Lance was practically purring as he let Hunk and Keith's conversation slip past him. As long as he was eating and drinking, Hunk wasn't complaining about his health. Maybe he actually was and he was missing it? Yawning, Keith tugged him closer

"Babe? You good?"

"Sleepy"

"I can see that. Wanna skip dinner?"

"Nah... I wanna cuddle... here"

"Your scents evened out, and your colour looks better. How do you feel?"

"Like crackers might be my new best friend"

  "Hey! I heard that, man!"

Laughing tiredly, Lance tried to find the energy to joke, but it just wasn't there

"No one could replace my main bro"

"As long as you know that. You guys don't have to wait for dinner. We have about another varga before everything will be ready. Daehra said we're all having dinner in the second entertainment room? I can't believe you guys have a first entertainment room, let alone a second"

"Second room is... an o-o-overflow room..."

Yawning widely, he shook himself in an attempt to wake up

"Its mostly things that were already here... like tables and chairs... First entertainment room is for guests"

"We're not guests?"

"Your family... mmm, if we're having dinner there, we can head in early. There's a sofa in there"

Keith's voice came from directly next to his left ear

"I thought you wanted cuddles?"

"Sofa cuddles sound better..."

"Yes, they do. Mostly because neither of you should be sitting on the kitchen counters. Even if you own this place"

Lance ducked his head while Keith laughed. He was still nervous Hunk was going to bring drugs up again... Plus... dinner was only a varga away. Dinner with everyone...

"I think we've been told, babe. Can you give me directions?"

Lance nodded, whining at the loss of Keith's body heat as his husband climbed down off the kitchen bench. Holding his arms out limply, Keith lifted him into his arms

"I'm going to take him down there to rest before dinner. I'm looking forward to some real food. We've been stuck eating purple goo again"

"That stuff should be banned as a violation of human right. Galra rights. Universal rights. I've got things under control here. Maybe you should have Daehra take a look at Lance before dinner?"

Damn. He thought Hunk would let it go

"Hunk, it was just a bug. I'm not contagious"

"You smell funny and you're throwing up"

His chest tightened at the thought of his scent. He was wearing the suit in the hopes it would diminish his scent...

"He smells fine. Although he does need to brush his teeth"

Saved by Keith again, Lance couldn't win

""He" is right here. And he is feeling better for having kept something down"

"You know babe, we could stop by the medbay and run that IV bag before dinner?"

"No... after dinner is better. You're all worrying too much"

"Shiro literally dropped everything to pick you up. We're allowed to be worried"

Sensing his dropping mood, Keith kissed the top of his head

"I would rather Shiro drop a hundred things and know that Lance was alright. Seeing we're not heading to the med room, take your time. Mr Grumpy here needs his rest"

Why was everyone picking on him? He didn't want to be awake when the cannula went in... No. He wanted to be awake, but closer to sleep so he couldn't crave the feel of the injector needle

"That's rich, coming from you. I bet you can't even find your away around without me"

"I found my way to our room"

"That was a fluke... now let's go... I have a sofa to become friends with. Bye, Hunk! I promise we haven't done many gross things in here"

"Dude! What do you mean "many"?! Are the benches safe? Do I have to clean them again? Why are you doing gross things in here to begin with?"

As Keith walked towards the door while Hunk bombarded them questions, Lance waved over Keith's shoulder. He wasn't trying to pick a fight with Hunk, but it was so quiznakking easy to get him worked up when it came to the sanctity of the kitchen... or any kitchen for that matter.

     *

"There you losers are! You've got time to visit hunk, but no time for me!"

 Hushing Pidge, Keith stroked Lance's hair. Despite his insistence that he only wanted cuddles, Lance had drifted off into a doze soon after they'd settled down on the smaller of the two sofas. Bounding over, Pidge stopped as she smacked into the back of the sofa, half falling over and letting out a long "awwww", when she set eyes on Lance, following it by swiftly whispering

"He almost looks innocent like this... I almost don't want to wake him"

"He was woken by a bull trying to ruin my furniture"

Mumbling sleepily, Lance rolled over in his lap and poked his tongue out a Pidge

"What the quiznak is wrong with you?! Shiro said you were ill..."

"Space bug... I hear you planned to tease me for collapsing on Altea"

Shaking her head, Pidge walked around the sofa and threw herself down on the arm

"I was until I saw your face! Seriously, aren't you supposed to be some big bad bounty hunter with his own crew"

"My face! Have you looked in the mirror lately, Pidgeon"

"Oooh sick burn from the sicko"

"Damn right... Mmm..."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lance paled

"Babe?"

"Just feel a bit funny... can you help me up?"

"Funny?"

"Yep... I mean, I'm naturally hilarious... but I don't think my hilarity is what's trying to escape"

  Keith groaned at his husband's lameness. He knew Lance was only putting on a show for Pidge, yet he wished Lance would shut up and go back to napping. Tugging Lance up by the armpits, his husband flopped against him with a soft whine

"Babe?"

"It's ok... I think it's just dizziness from lack of sleep... or Pidge's loud voice"

"I'm...! Not that loud"

Starting at an indignant yell, Pidge quickly dropped to a whisper. Lance chuckling softly, cutting in before they started teasing each other again, Keith figured someone had to be the adult between the three of them

"You two are as bad as each other. Pidge, stop picking on the sick person. Lance you know what she's like..."

"Great going Lance, now "dad" here is telling us off. Why'd you have to go get sick right before Allura day?"

"It wasn't like it was planned. You better not have been messing with my outpost"

  Now that the spot next to them was only occupied by Lance's socked feet, Pidge slid into the spot and put Lance's feet in her lap

"You know, you really stink right. I was looking forward to hanging out with you, and seeing everything around here"

"I'll have to make it up to you next time. Next time we should go to Erathus. Have you been?"

What was on Erathus that Lance couldn't get here? Or on Daibazaal. Erathus was bad news as far as Keith was concerned. Humming, Pidge flicked Lance's toe, Lance retaliating by trying to stick his toes up her nose. Laughing as she pushed them down, she had the advantage in strength Lance admitting defeat with a small whine that was muffled by Keith's neck

"Only briefly. I didn't think you were too popular there?"

"You know what they say Pidge, if you can't beat them, let them get so well known that you can't lay a hand on them"

"No one likes a bragger"

"Yet... I bet you were eyeing off all our tech"

Huffing, Pidge crossed her arms

"Zak already took the best stuff... it pains me to admit it, but he's smart..."

"Ha! That's because my team is the best. I did hand pick them after all"

"And what does Keith have to say about this?"

 "Keith is wisely not getting involved in your sibling squabbling"

"Coward. Lance, what do you see in this guy?"

Letting his hand travel from his stomach up to rest palm down on Keith's chest, Keith was expecting some kind of sappy answer

"He's big and muscled... plus, he's got a big dick"

Pidge squawked, blushing much the way Keith was. Lance had hit his rambling stage

"I did not need to know that!"

"Yeah, babe. Pidge didn't need to know that"

"My brain power has weaned off... plus I feel funny"

"You should let me take you back to our room. I know you want to hang out with everyone, but you can't even keep up with verbally sparring with Pidge"

"Can too keep up... She's got mystical powers of confusion because she's a gremlin"

"Ya know, you're no fun when you're this sick. Why don't you sleep it off and make it up to me at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Help. I'm dying. Pidge is being kind"

"I'm always kind you arsehole"

"Now she's swearing at me! Don't tell Shiro... He still thinks she's sweet and innocent"

"That's because Shiro has good taste. I don't know what he was thinking taking the pair of you in. You're two halves of the same damn idiot, Daehra was right"

"I'm the funny one... Keith's the cute one, aren't you babe?"

"No, you're the cute one"

Pidge rolled her eyes, poking at Lance's ankle

"I see you didn't say he's the intelligent one... Still, I'll take Gremlin over ankle biter"

"If you were an ankle biter, you wouldn't be anywhere near my feet. You both need to stop fussing, I'm fine"

"Babe, you're rambling"

"Fine, I'm sleepy and fine"

"Plus you did say you felt funny"

Keith nodded as Pidge backed him up

"Babe, no one is going to think any less of you for being sick. We've already checked in with Pidge and Hunk, what you wanted to do. Pidge isn't offended any more than usual"

"But I want to have dinner with everyone... and I wanna see your team too... and your recruits"

"Which we can do in the morning"

"Why don't you nap here? If you wake up, you can meet everyone?"

"Don't wanna nap"

Pidge's howl of laughter was drowned out by the arrival of the others. Lance tensing in his arms. His hand coming to cover his mouth while his other hand went to his stomach...

"Lance?!"

"Too many scents... gonna..."

   Stumbling half a dozen steps, Pidge screamed as Lance collapsed on the floor seizing. Rushing to Lance's side, he arrived as Shiro rolled Lance onto his side, Keith catching sight of the vomit running from Lance's nose as he faced Shiro's knees. Taking Lance by the jaw, Keith's eyes shot up to meet Shiro's

"He's vomited. We need to get his mouth open"

"You're not supposed to interfere with a seizure!"

It was hard to ignore Pidge screaming at them, as Keith tried to get Lance's mouth partly open without harming him

"What happened?"

"He said he was feeling funny, Pidge and I were trying to get him to go back to bed, but he wanted to see everyone. When... when everyone came in it was too much... I think he threw up as the seizure hit..."

"He'd eaten?"

"Dry crackers and ginger tea in the kitchen when we were with Hunk... it wasn't much, but he kept them down for over a varga"

"That's more than I was able to get him to eat and keep down"

Kneeling down at his side, Pidge was crying

"What's going on? What's wrong with him? Why is no one helping him?!"

"Pidge, stop yelling. He has seizures... It's complicated..."

 Getting Lance's mouth open didn't come until his seizure finally started to lessen. Shoving his fingers into Lance's mouth Shiro didn't shy from scooping up the mess Lance kept expelling weakly. Keith rubbing Lance's back as Shiro stroked his cheek with his free hand. Glossy blue eyes blinking up at Shiro, whining weakly as he allowed Shiro to tend to him

"You had a seizure, baby. Only a dobosh or so... Can you follow my words? Just blink... don't force yourself just yet"

Lance barely blinked, but Keith was sure he saw him make the effort

"That's good baby. I'm going to lift you up now, and Shiro going to help get you back to our room. Shiro, have you cleared his airway?"

"Yeh. Lance, you ready buddy?"

  Lifting Lance, Keith found everyone staring at him. It hadn't been one of Lance's more severe seizures, but with Lance's pregnancy, every seizure was a heart attack. All Keith wanted was to get back to room and check for bruising or bleeding. The fact he'd had two seizures in the space of a movement wasn't a good sign... and... what if it continued? Lance wouldn't be able to left alone at all... not with the risk... Keith's eyes filled with unshed tears as he buried his face in his husband's hair. He should have pushed harder for Lance to rest. Lance had said he felt funny... probably the sign of a seizure coming on... but he didn't usually feel them... Making his way through their friends and the recruit, Acxa placed her hand on his shoulder

"Is he... will he?"

"He's alright now it's over. I'm sorry, I need to take care of him right now"

"I'll take care of the recruits..."

"Thank you..."

His team was probably going to be hurt that he hadn't told them. But he didn't know the full details of Lance's condition, only that the drugs weren't to blame. Instead, it seemed to him that they'd been what was keeping the seizures at bay all along.

  Catching up with them as they walked, Shiro looked wiped out

"I asked Pidge to wait until the tomorrow morning before starting with the questions. Keith, seizures..."

"Seizures while pregnant isn't a good thing. I know... there was a split tick between the sofa and reaching him that my heart stopped..."

"I think while we're on Altea, you should see if you can get him in to the hospital"

"I was... I wanted him to rest. I should have pushed harder..."

"Keith... don't..."

Softly whispering his name, Lance reached up blindly for his face

"Don't... wanted to see everyone..."

"But..."

"Please don't..."

Before he could protest again, Shiro firmly reassured him

"See. It wasn't your fault he had a seizure. Is there anything I can do?"

"We need to stop by the med room. I want to run an IV line to get his fluids up. He was looking so much better for having eaten something"

"I can get the saline bag..."

"And herbs... I... Daehra has a herbal supplement, like a vitamin pill but better"

"I heard folate is important during a pregnancy... for foetal development"

"I doubt he has any of whatever that is in his system... How much did you get him eating?"

"Some soft foods, but to be honest, they said that rest was more important than food. But with his morning sickness... I don't know what to do"

"You did a good job with him"

"Did I? I feel completely over my head..."

"You kept him going..."

"He wouldn't open up to me like he did with you"

"He's a shit like that... but he said he felt like he was in a constant panic attack. There's... something in my scent that he finds soothing. Like he can anchor himself with it... Though he's probably going to be in a rotten mood tomorrow morning. He hated sympathy and now everyone saw him having a fit. I don't think he's ready to tell everyone"

Shiro sighed, closing his eyes as he did. Keith could hear him mentally counting to 10 before opening them

"Alright. I'll help you cover for now. Lance shouldn't have to talk until he's really ready too. Not that anyone is going to judge him. I can say it was a side effect of the medication they gave him for his... what are you going with?"

"Stomach bug picked up from an alien"

Shiro raised an eyebrow

"His stomach bugs... then. If you say I told you, then you're covered as to why you're not so shocked"

For a tick Keith thought they might actually get away with it, before he deflated with a groan

"That won't work. Daehra knows Lance won't take anything and... I freaked out on Acxa earlier... I think I mentioned his seizures... Quiznak..."

"We can worry about a cover story after we get him cleaned up and settled"

"You need a shower too..."

Shiro looked down at his pants and hands

"Yeah... I guess I do..."

"And you're braver for sticking your human fingers in his mouth"

"I wasn't thinking straight. My heart's still racing from seeing him fall. If I wasn't already grey..."

"I know how you feel. I found a few around my temples... they all came from him"

"Him... isn't asleep..."

Lance's eyes were closed, and his lack of response had led Keith to believe he'd passed out with his hand on Keith's hair

"Of course you're not, Lance. Just resting your eyes?"

"Mhmm... Shiro gets it..."

"That makes one of us"

Snickering at Shiro, Lance dropped his hand to his lap

"I'm sorry... wanted to see everyone"

"It's alright, babe. We can see everyone in the morning. Sleep for me a little longer"

"Wasn't sleeping... but ok"

Quiznak. His husband was so fucking precious.

    Conquering showering with an almost unconscious Lance back when Lance was withdrawing, Shiro went about organising towels and their bed for them when they got out. Swapping when both he and Lance were done, Keith was definitely ready for sleep by the time they were both dried and dressed. Getting Lance out of his suit had been a struggle, yet his instincts wouldn't allow Shiro to help, still shaken from Lance's fall and the risk to the twins. The half-Galra's heart was still racing, even after triple checking Lance wasn't bleeding and bruised. Settling them both in bed, the first IV bag was hooked to the lamp because it was the only place he could get it to stay still. Coming out their bathroom, Shiro cast them a soft look

"Is he out?"

"Not quite. Thanks for your help"

Shiro had found Daehra's herbs for them. Thankfully she labelled her medical supplies in English or they would have spent all night figuring things out. Injecting the vitamin mix first, Lance hadn't liked it all, until Keith did some creative truthing about accidentally prickling him while trying to get the IV set up. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Shiro went to reach for Lance before pausing

"I'll find another room to crash in tonight"

Letting out a "nnngh" sound, Keith had to push space between his chest and Lance's mouth to make out this husband was trying to tell them "no"

"I think he wants you to stay"

"I don't want to be in the way"

Keith stifled down a snort

"Shiro, you've literally basically been his rock. He isn't one to ask anyone to stay, let alone sleep in the same room or bed as him. He really has to trust you to do that these days"

"He has you"

"And right now he's disorientated and out for the night. He wants you stay. Besides, this isn't the first time we've shared a bed"

  Shiro didn't seem convinced. Keith was feeling jealous of this new found best friends with Shiro thing, but had no energy to care

"I don't..."

"Shiro. I don't have the energy for this. We've all had a scare tonight. Just sleep here where you'll be able to act if anything happens"

"Fine..."

"Good"

Careful not to disturb Lance, Shiro threw his towel over towards the washing basket in the corner before joining them under the blankets. Laying facing them, his brother's expression was still filled with love for the pair of them

"I never got to congratulate you both properly tonight"

"I got him to agree to come stay on Daibazaal. We were going to discuss it with the others at dinner"

  The small moment between the three of them was interrupted by a knock on the door. Shiro climbing back out the bed to answer, revealing an anxious Hunk standing there

"Is Lance, alright!? I brought you some dinner, but if I'm in the way..."

Turning back, Shiro was leaning the decision to him

"It's alright, you can come in"

Calling softly from the bed, Keith found Lance was trying to keep his eyes open. Bopping him on the tip of the nose with his finger, his husband gifted him a dopey smile. Armed with a tray of food, tea and what seemed to be a couple of water pouches, Hunk wasn't alone as Daehra slipped in behind him...

"What's going?! How is Lance?"

Thanks to his anxieties, Lance might have trouble feeling loved by others, but both their friends were practically radiating love and concern. Clearing his throat, Shiro took it upon himself

"He had a seizure, most likely brought on from his weakened state after picking up that stomach bug"

"Is that all? You said he was alright when we were in the kitchen and next thing I know Pidge is balling her eyes out because Lance has collapsed and she didn't know what to do"

  As far as Keith knew, Lance and Pidge's relationship was still strained. Hunk looked as if he wanted to burst into tears himself

"She said Lance vomited?"

"He threw up just as the seizure hit. I hope you don't mind Daehra, we borrowed a couple of IV bags and some herbs"

"I don't mind. But I don't like not knowing what is going on with my patient"

Placing the tray of food down just below Keith's feet, Hunk worried his hands

"Will he be ok? I made some vegetable soup... and put some crackers there..."

"He'll be fine Hunk. He's simply weak right now. He was so excited about dinner with everyone he refused to slow down"

"That sounds like him... uh... um... you'll let me know if I can help, won't you?"

"Right now, the best thing you can do is not worry. He's probably going to be embarrassed tomorrow, but he's down for the night now"

"Oh. Ok. I'll just go then... Lance, I hope you feel better soon, buddy"

  When Hunk's caring aura left the room with him, Daehra crossed her arms. Keith knew the expression she wore too well

"What is going on with him?!"

"Dae..."

"First he's exhausted, then he's shutting us out... I don't know what I've done wrong, but..."

"Whoa. Dae. You haven't done anything wrong. He was sick... he still is sick. He thought it might be related to coming off his meds so had a scan on Altea. While he was there, there was a miscommunication that I was going to be there. He described it as feeling like being in a panic attack since he got home again. I've also invited him to live on Daibazaal for the next phoeb. We both know he won't stop working, so if he's not here to work... well..."

Daehra frowned, but accepted what he said

"He's an idiot. I wish he'd talk to me about all of this. I could have conducted the scan"

"From what Shiro said, he was supposed to meet with Coran over Allura day. You're all coming to the festival, aren't you?"

"Yes. Though I dread to think of what I'm going to come home to... and a phoeb without Lance around, all our regular customers are going to be upset"

"Admit it, you and Lucteal will miss him the most. Daibazaal is only a wormhole away"

"Do not tempt me. Fine. I'm trusting you to make sure he rests, and in future I hope you'll trust me enough to help you so you don't have to steal my herbs without telling me"

Keith felt a prang of guilt. Daehra and Lucteal had been watching over Lance for so long now

"I'm sorry Dae. I do trust you with him... I just... I can't let you in right now. You know those instincts Lance I share..."

"Keith, I can feel you. You barely wanted to accept Hunk in here. I want to know the tick something happens, if it happens. And I really with you'd talk to him about going onto medication for his seizures"

Being pregnant, Lance might be more open to it... then again, medication could affect the twins

"At least think about it. And don't go hiding things again"

"Yes, Daehra. Thank you..."

  Sighing heavily, Daehra moved to leave the room. Shiro staring at the door long after she'd gone

"Shiro? You ok?"

"Does she know how scary she is?"

Keith snorted

"Yeah. She does. That's the problem with trying to hide things from an empath"

Shaking his head, his brother retrieved the tray of food off the bed

"I feel bad for Hunk, but I'm not hungry at all"

Keith shook his in agreement

"I'm not hungry either. Why don't you leave it in the bathroom? Maybe we can get Lance to eat when he wakes up again?"

"Yeah. Are you sure you still want me to stay?"

"Lance wants you here. And as annoying as you are... I'm grateful to have you here. I know we need to have a talk, but thank you Shiro"

"We need to have more than a talk..."

  When Shiro finally rejoined them in bed, Lance proved he was a stubborn shit by taking Shiro's hand and placing it on his hip with a very sleepy, and very slurred "good night" to both of them. Kissing Lance's hair, Keith curled around his husband as much as he could, while Shiro waited until Lance was snoring to take his hand off his hip. If he hadn't felt like the whole day had taken a decaphoeb to get through, Keith might have made a joke over Curtis being jealous, yet at the same time, he knew he wouldn't because he knew how much Shiro must be missing his boyfriend. Curtis had the patience of a saint to put up with their antics, and he owed the man big for this.

[thebrotherswholoved]

unconditionally

summary: A short lil’ drabble in which Sam and Dean have a teenaged kid who reveals a secret to them.

words: 1.7k

read on ao3 (please)

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

Sam and Dean’s daughter comes home from school one day with a black eye, bruises, and a limp, making it difficult to sneak past her overbearing dads unnoticed. Her arm is probably broken given the deformity in her wrist, but that’s not what really hurts—no, it’s now how those kids beat her up, it’s why. Her secret is killing her, now literally as well as figuratively.

When the fifteen year old tries to get through the door after walking from her bus stop, she doesn’t expect her fathers to be home. Her dad works as a forensic analyst down at the police department and her papa is a medical assistant, so they rarely get home before five o’clock even if they work the same hours. So when she stumbles into the foyer like a fawn learning to walk, wincing with every movement because god, those kids fucked her up, she’s surprised to hear a concerned gasp and footsteps running toward her weakened body.

“Jenna, what the hell happened?!” Dean asks as he takes his daughter into his arms, trying to be as gentle as possible with her while he carries her to the couch. A Maury Povich rerun is still playing onscreen from seconds earlier when he and Sam were snuggling together on their break, but he drowns out the results of Donna whatever-her-name-was’s paternity test to take care of his little girl.

Sam hustles in from the powder room with a hospital-worthy first aid kit in hand and joins his husband and daughter on the sofa to get a better look at her wounds. She’s got bruises running up and down her arms, a laceration on her forehead, a sprained ankle, a black eye, and a fractured wrist (that would have to be determined by a doctor, but he’s basically one, right?)—a whole mess of blood and hurt.

“Oh, baby…” he pushes her hair back and hisses at the dried blood staining her skin, “what happened? Who did this to you?”

Jenna, scared to death, attempts to stand up and ‘walk it off’ only to be ushered back to a sitting position between the two men.

“Uh…” she winces at her split lip, making it incredibly difficult to talk coherently, “these kids, four or five of ‘em I think, ganged up on me. I’m fine, though; you don’t have’ta baby me.”

Dean shakes his head and tries to remain calm, even though every fiber of his being is telling him to track those bastards down and make sure they’ll never come after his little girl again. “Jen, you got hurt pretty bad. If Sammy can’t fix you up, we’re takin’ you to the hospital.”

The teen shakes her head in an adamant plea, tears coming to her emerald eyes. “No! Please, no. That’ll just make it worse.”

“Hey, we’ll only go if we have to.” Sam assures the brunette in his arms, knowing full well that she hates hospitals. In the fourth grade she had to go in for an emergency appendectomy, and she passed out when the nurse put her IV in. “Can you lift up your shirt a little, bug? I’m not gonna look, I’ve just gotta check your stomach.”

Her face goes pale at this, but she reluctantly nods her head and pulls her flannel shirt up to expose her abdomen. To his relief, Sam finds no hardness or tenderness when he presses around her midsection, instead becoming perplexed at another finding. When he pulls her shirt back down, his finger brushes against something that feels like an ACE bandage.

Biting his lip, he looks down at her as she places an ice pack over her left eye. “Did you try bandaging yourself already, Jen? ‘Cause I thought I felt a wrap around your ribs.”

Jenna looks like she’s going to be sick with anxiety. Ignoring all the pain in her body, she begins hyperventilating when she tries to speak, and Sam holds her tight to calm her down. Dean works her through her breathing—4, 5, 7—and they wait until she had enough control over herself to finish her thought.

“N-no, I—that’s for s-something else.” She’s crying now, borderline hysterical: a sight that makes her fathers want to start weeping as well. They look at her and silently ask her to elaborate, but she bites her bloody lip and shakes her head. “I don’t…I can’t tell you. I just can’t. You’ll be pissed and hate me forever.”

Her papa takes her hand in his and looks her in the eye. “Bug, you can tell your dad and I anything. We’ll never judge you, ever.”

“We promise,” Dean chimes in. “I mean, your papa and I were literally in a sanitarium for, like, a week. Right, babe?”

“Yeah.” Sam nods with a chuckle. “So, whatever you need to tell us, we can guarantee that we’ve heard and dealt with worse.”

These words seem to help Jenna compose herself and conjure up the courage needed to reveal this part of her identity she’s kept secret for so long. It’s been so rough lying to her dads since she discovered that she is who she is two years ago and she’s exhausted. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll be alright with it.

“Okay,” she whispers, lowering the ice from her bruised eye. “You know how there are some kids who…I dunno, they don’t feel comfortable in their bodies, I guess?”

The younger brother thinks for a moment then nods like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Yeah! Those teens with gender identity disorder and stuff. I worked with a girl who had that, got her on estrogen.”

Dean smiles at his husband’s comment and ponders the correlation before turning back to Jenna, thoroughly confused. “What about them?”

The fifteen year old is fumbling with the hem of her shirt now. She’s barely been able to come out to her best friend, and now her parents? That’s a huge leap. But, she’s hidden for long enough—she won’t let this kill her. Not like how it’s killed so many others. “I…I’m one of those k-kids. I’m sorry, Dad…Papa…”

Sam sits in silence for a few seconds before he hears crying from beside him, the figure in his arms shaking violently. He locks eyes with his husband, who nods with a small, understanding smile, and clears his throat.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he cooes, running his fingers through the long hair rubbing against his arm—that will probably have to go. “This doesn’t change a damn thing, bug. Your dad and I love you more than anything else in this world, and something this isn’t going to change that. You don’t have to be our Jenna for us to love you.”

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t agree with your papa when he chose your name,” Dean leans in to mutter, earning him a bitch face from Sam and a small chuckle from the ball of emotion beside him. “Do you want us to call you somethin’ different? I can’t promise that I’ll get it immediately, but I’ll try my best.”

The teen looks up at him with reddened eyes and smiles a bit. “Jack. I like the name Jack…is that okay?”

“Sure thing, Jack,” Dean kisses his son’s head and feels his tears wet his Led Zeppelin lounge shirt. He’s not alarmed, though; he knows that these tears are happy ones. “Alright, now that you’ve got that off your chest…get it?”

His husband snorts a bit and Jack laughs from beside him, now confident in his choice to tell the two idiots he’s proud to call his dads.

The older man coughs and carries on talking. “Now that that’s aired out, how ‘bout we watch Maury Povich while Papa patches you up, yeah?”

No longer hesitant, the boy nods and doesn’t really feel his physical pain over his emotional exuberance. Sam moves to grab some antiseptic but stops himself, first turning back to Jack and nodding at his chest.

“Will you take that off? It’s bad for your lungs and ribs,” he asks in a gentle voice.

The teen frowns to himself but still nods his head, reaching to his side to undo the clips fastening the bandage wrap around his chest. Once it ceases impairing his ability to breathe, Jack exhales and stretches his back, still grimacing at the feeling of his breasts against his shirt. His papa notices and pats his leg.

“I’ll order you a real binder online tonight, I promise,” he murmurs while Dean is fully indulging in his talk show obsession.

Jack beams and mouths a ‘thank you,’ which is answered with a ‘no problem, son.’ At that moment, Jack can’t remember why he was ever hesitant about telling his dads at all. They’ve always said that they’d be there for him through thick and thin, bad and good, no matter what—and they’ve come through time and time again.

”Hey, you wanna know a secret?” Dean asks his son in a whisper. Jack nods with a skepticism head tilt—damnit, Uncle Cas—and the father smiles. “When your Papa and I found out we were expecting you, I made a promise. I swore I’d always love you no matter what happened, and that I would do everything in my power to protect you and make sure you’d never be afraid to tell us anything.”

Sam sheds a tear at his lover’s words, taking his hand and looking at their son, who they’re meeting for the first time; god, he already looks so much happier and full of life than their daughter. “He did. I was there, he thought I was asleep. I made the same promise, Jack. We’re always in your corner,- nd we’ll never stop loving you.”

Jack sobs and embraces his dads. He’s never been happier than at this moment, getting his injuries nursed by his overprotective Papa and having his Dad nudge him to point at the TV and laugh at something dumb. Little does he know, his Dad is gonna come after those kids that beat him up with a BB gun and chase them off, all while screaming: “this is for my son, Jack!”

Everything is going to be alright, and he knows it. Family don’t end in blood, and he’s proud to be Jack Winchester.

[jamiebluewind]

Thank You

Just wanted to say thanks to everyone for being kind. I know some of you must be... annoyed that I haven't been sharing anything lately (I have too if I'm being honest), but nobody has thrown any hate at me for it and for that, I'm grateful.

I've been resting up since I got out of the hospital, a fact that has been driving me crazy if I'm being honest. Only so many hours in a day and I'm spending so many of um in the bed (doesn't help that dad fussed at me for it)! Then I tell myself that if one of you were in the same position, I'd be fussing your ear off for thinking such a thing and trying to get you to rest, so I'm trying to give myself the same courtesy.

I'm... hesitant to share what went wrong, not for embarrassment but because I don't want yall to worry. Then I realized that this post has probably already make you think far worse, so here goes...

WARNING: Blood mention, illness, body function mention, pain, menstruation, confusion, dehydration, (please tell me if I missed any!)

I got an IUD put in. I didn't want it, but my periods are bad and my insurance wouldn't cover just removing the parts before trying this first. It caused a lot of pain due to having nothing for pain, the person putting it in not knowing what they were doing, and them using silver nitrate without rinsing it off which gave me chemical burns on my cervix. I stayed in pain and they responded saying to take a tylenol and I'd eventually be fine. During this time, I bled constantly. Not a lot, but some. I also had my normal periods to deal with. I found out it was even effecting my mood and making me tired (hormones, constant cramping, or both, you be the judge). Two months in, I wanted it out. They said I just needed to tough it out and I would be fine by 6 months. I'm pretty sure my face did a thing that symotaniously screamed confusion and "fuck you", but I did as I was told.

In the meantime (during December and even now), my heater thermostat started doing something weird. I set the temp, but it would let it get down to like 55° F (12.7° C) at night when it was set on like 68 (20° C). During the day, it would get about 10° F warmer than what it was set (so like 78° F or 26° C). It was kicking on, but not regulating it how it was supposed to. I told my landlady, but they take for-freaking-ever! So out comes an electric blanket to keep me warm at night. I basically lived under the thing after the sun set! I just kept it on one or two so I wouldn't get too warm. I was also feeling crapy (*gestures to previous paragraph*), which meant more bed time than normal.

A few days before Christmas, I got a shot that was supposed to last a month and help block a nerve that causes migraines. I have debilitating hemiplegic migraines and the risk was very low, so I decided to give it a shot. The medication is very new and due to my rare form of migraine reacting atypically to medications, you would think I would know by now not to try medications that haven't been out long.

The fourth and final domino in all this was all the running due to the holiday season. I'm disabled and I have a weak immune system, but I kept pushing myself. I walked so much price shopping for things for everyone that would both mean something and not break budget (even when me left leg wanted to nope out) because Dad gave me a bit of money last minute to help me buy gifts and I only had a week. I wrapped gifts for dad and myself. I cleaned and did some baking. Then there was the driving and the great but exhausting time with family and playing catch with my youngest nephew until my arm was nearly falling off. When I eventually got back home, my whole body had this bone deep ache. Not like overworking muscles after not using them for a long time, but like I had the flu. This is on top of the cramping.

*Note: Some of the information past this point is things the medical staff told me happened, things my dad said happened, and texts*

I would get better and worse. Always worse when I first woke up (remember the blanket?). I went to dad's for a traditional southern New Year's meal. He said I was spacey, lethargic, and far more quiet than normal. My eyes had trouble focusing and I had trouble concentrating. I looked tired so, he made me sleep before driving home. I woke up about 3 am, drank a glass of water, drove home, wrote a post about it (which took entirely too long for me to write), and went to bed.

The next morning, I woke up and just... laid there. I was having trouble figuring out where my body was. It just felt numbed somehow. I called my neurologist thinking it was a side effect the the drug. I'm not sure what I said, but they made me go to the ER.

I'm not sure how I drove there to be honest. I do remember somebody honking. I'm glad it was close, but still. It's a wonder I didn't get in a wreck!

I don't remember much. A yellow floor sign. A woman writing with a marker. Another woman with brown drawn on eyebrows. A machine that had a small piece of that brown first aid tape stuck to it. A name that made me think of the green emoji face (which my normal brain has yet to figure out). I had trouble talking and thinking. I remember repeating "stay still" over and over the (I think it was) several times I was instructed to, because if I didn't, I'd forget. I'm pretty sure I left my room several times. I know I went to my car once. I remember eating food, but I only recall a pineapple cup because I realized partway that I had a spoon that I could use. I kept forgetting to tell them I was hurting when they asked. I had a headache and sick stomach. I also felt so cold and my feet were like ice, but I was running a low grade fever after all.

I started feeling a little better, but the doctor still admitted me. I had a white count, but they couldn't figure out from where. I messaged a few people to let them know what was going on finding typing easier than talking. I used that to my advantage and typed out my allergies to show a nurse.

They struggled getting the IV in, even on my hand. When it finally was in I was hooked up to fluids to keep it open. More blood taken to try and figure out what was wrong. I gave them what urine sample I could which was tinted (I couldn't help it). They had already done some type of brain scan (but I didn't remember it). I kept having minor dizzy spells, but I attributed it too all the blood they took.

They kept giving me stuff, but nothing helped my headache. It wasn't a migraine, but still very nasty. I was grateful when something finally seemed to help.

My nurse came back with lots of juice to go with my super so I'd have something to drink and a container of ice water. She was new to the hospital and hung around at times just checking on me and talking. Just a nice person. It was otherwise a lot of sleeping.

The longer I stayed, the easier it was to communicate, but the tests couldn't figure out why. They ruled out seizures and a stroke. A mini stroke was highly unlikely and didn't fit. They couldn't find an infection anywhere. My white count went back to normal. They couldn't figure it out.

That was until my nurse from the previous day came back. We just talked about general things until I made a joke about the urine sample from the day before. She asked if it was clean catch and I said yes, but just barely. That ended up causing questions and her checking charts. Turns out that despite being there since the morning before, I had peed twice (with the last time hours before). She pressed on my bladder which wasn't distended. 3 bags of fluid, 3 meals (2 of which I know I ate all of), plus whatever I drank. I had been dehydrated to the point that it had caused my white count to go up and was the reason behind my confusion, lethargy, dizziness, headache, nausea, and low urine output. I was pretty surprised. I was released before lunch.

Pushing past my limits, minor medication side effects (including one long term med), staying under an electric blanket too much to stay warm (combined with exhaustion which meant longer in bed and less time awake to drink water), and pain and constant bleeding due to my IUD... all those things combined causing it to happen. I'm still... oof. Still tired. Still weak. Still recovering. Sleeping so much that the days fly by. Drinking lots of water. And otherwise doing just fine (save for my sleep schedule going to shit again). I still love my electric blanket; it's just been temporary retired until I can get myself rehydrated again. That means my other blankets are out of the vacuum bags and piled up to keep me warm ^_^

Speaking of warm, I have my very own love bug/velcro/snuggle buddy Danny who has been on me like white on rice since I got home. He's a good boy

[incmorata]

A Tragedy In Six Parts

Self Para / Past

ACT I

                  It was a particularly hot day in Chicago when Sierra steps into the doctor’s office. For the last couple weeks she’d been feeling sick. Overcome with nauseousness that would overwhelm her, mostly in the morning but would be easily triggered throughout the day. School was finally over, Sierra no longer shackled by the confines of the daily, mundane routine that was high school. She barely graduated, never caring enough to put forth the effort. Always more focused on her social life and whatever extracurriculars that came along with them.

Most kids her age would be thinking about college but Sierra’s mind is on a summer vacation. Basking under the sun at the French Riviera, shopping in Paris. Most importantly, being home on a more consistent basis meant she’d get to see and spend more time with her brother. Which, honestly, is another reason she wasn’t particularly fond of getting out of the house and going to college like her older siblings. 

The only thing that could stifle those plans is this pesky summer flu bug that’s rearing its ugly head. Her name is called, Sierra grabbing her bag and heading into the room. Hopping up onto the examination table. She thinks nothing of it, going down her list of symptoms, letting the doctor examine her without thinking anything serious of it. An hour or so later, after a few blood tests, the beginning of what would turn Sierra’s is triggered. 

“I understand why you would think you have the flu but after hearing your symptoms, we ran an additional test just in case.” The doctor begins, causing Sierra to look on in confusion. “Miss. Calhoun, you’re seven weeks pregnant.”

Her eyes go wide, feeling like the world around suddenly comes to stop. Looking back at it now, she couldn’t tell you what emotion ran through her veins. Worry? She was eighteen and pregnant, of course that was a reasonable reaction. Excitement? Which was naive, she wasn’t qualified to be a mother, but the thought of a child -- their child in a fantastical sense felt like a shred of hope...happiness that only he could provide her. 

It never occurred to Sierra -- at least not until her life blew up into a million pieces way later -- that going to the doctor would be easily be trackable to her family. That they donated a fucking wing to the hospital and that within a few days, Leonard Calhoun would get a call that would break client-patient confidentiality notifying him of his daughter’s indiscretion. 

ACT II

                  Happiness is short lived. A few day window of a false sense of peace and a blissful naivety that can only be blamed on age. She’s more careful the second time around, although the damage is already unknowingly done. Going down to the other side of town, the more risky areas she’d never set foot in on a regular basis. A place where she’d normally look down on the girl’s who walked inside of here -- that’d she’d stereotype as poor and unloved.

Not her, not Sierra. Alistair’s been distant as of late, more moody than usual but she has the feeling her news would bring him back to her. That whatever bullshit that hack of a doctor is feeding him would wash away. He loves her, she knows it. There’s no way they could stay apart after this. They could be together, for real this time.

Eloise Wyatt -- her middle name and mother’s maiden name is the pseudonym she goes under. Unlike before, she gets onto the examination table with more certainty. Allowing this doctor to do a full check on her and the growing baby inside of her, it’s there she learns the baby can be described as looking like a tadpole. 

“Do you know the father?” The doctor asks, clearly out of concern because probably a handful of girl’s coming in here without any clue of who the father is. Not her, not Sierra. Fooling around with a few guys at school never went beyond heavy petting, her desire only saved for Alistair. No one’s touched her in that way since he came into her room late one night and took her, making him her first. A few times since then, she’s taken matters into her own hands, unable to stop the desire and love she feels for him. Only wanting him. “Yes, but he wasn’t able to make it today. He’ll be here the next time.” She responded, sure of herself and ignoring the skeptical look from the doctor.

With the mother’s health in good condition, now it was time to check on the baby. Sierra lays back, lifting up her shirt, heart beating erratically. A cool gel is applied, making her shiver and the instrument follows, moving around her stomach, giving some discomfort to Sierra. It takes a few moments -- although it feels like a lifetime -- but the thudding sound of an heartbeat fills the air.

Her eyes begin to water, the smile on her face involuntary. The view on the monitor looks like a lot of nothing but the doctor points out where the baby is. “Do you know what it is?” Sierra asks, eyes still fixated on the screen, somewhat in awe. “Not yet but you’ll know soon.” Her head nods absentmindedly. “I bet it’s a girl.” Sierra  turns back to the doctor. “Would you like a picture?” 

With a bag filled with vitamins that are shoved to the bottom of her purse, Sierra walks out of the clinic clutching onto the ultrasound and not letting it go until the car pulls up to the house. It then too meets the bottom of her bag but handled with much care, only retrieved when she’s back in her room and safely put away in her bedroom nightstand.

ACT III

                  The timing couldn’t be anymore perfect. She’d been away, a few friends from school meeting up to enjoy the beginning of summer before they all went their separate ways before college. She was supposed to be gone for the rest of the night but feeling sick was good enough excuse to want to go home. Plus, she finally felt like she could muster up the nerve to talk to her brother.

Sitting in the back seat of the town car that usually drives her around, in the distance she could see some movement at the front of the house. Usually, she adores the long driveway that leads up to the massive estate that is known as the Calhoun’s home. But instead, it feels her with panic and dread as she sees a tall, lanky figure come out of the front door while maids are carrying bags.

“What’s going on!?” Sierra panicked, hands immediately going to the door and trying to unlock it but unable to do so. “Stop the car! Let me out!” It’s as if everything is moving in slow motion, she sees Alistair get into the car and the lights flash. And now she’s beating against the window, unable to open that as well. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she feels helpless as the car he’s in begins to pull away as she pulls up. “ALISTAIR!” She screams but it goes unheard as the car begins to drive around the large fountain. The car comes to a stop, making the doors unlock and Sierra jumps out of the car. 

“What did you do?” The question is geared towards Damien who is standing there but she doesn’t wait for an answer. Their eyes lock and they both know Sierra is aware of what’s going on. Despite how she acts, they both know Sierra is smarter and more intuitive than what she looks. Not waiting for an answer, Sierra, goes running in the direction of the car. It’s already got a good head start and she’s sure the cars been instructed to drive away as quickly as possible, but that doesn’t stop Sierra.

Even pregnant, she still has the vigor of an eighteen year old as she goes bounding down the long driveway. “AL!” She screams, mostly into the void. The  estate takes up a large amount of land, which meant there weren’t any nosy neighbors to peer out of their windows to see a sobbing Sierra Calhoun calling out her brother’s name. It also meant there was a long stretch of road that was empty and endless. 

“STOP! PLEASE!” Sierra cried out, voice burning and hoarse from all the yelling. Her legs are still going despite the exhaustion, every step she takes feeling heavier and heavier. The distant red light on the back of the car is longer seen in the night, but she’s so damn persistent she doesn’t want to admit defeat and stop. “AL! COME BACK! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!” The body wracking sobs make it harder to breathe. In between the yelling and the tears, she’s gasping for air but it does little to fill her lungs. Their still burning as she cries out to a person that’s no longer there.

Sierra doesn’t know how long she’s been running but, eventually, her legs give up. She drops to her knees, not caring that they’re now bloodied and bruised from the gravel. All she can do is cry, tears streaming down her face as she sobs out his name. “Al...please...come back...don’t leave me...”

ACT IV

                  It’s a while before anyone comes for her, finally catching up. The footsteps don’t fully register, Sierra so out of it as she could feel her heart crumbling into a million pieces. Arms a wrapped around her stomach, hunched over as she continues to cry.

The only thing that snaps Sierra out of the grief is that she realizes it’s Damien. “Get off me!” But already he’s picking her up, hoisting off the ground. Sadness turns to rage as she violently squirms and wiggles around in his arms. “How could you?! What did you do?!” Sierra screamed as he brought her back to the house. “How could you do this to me?! He’s all that I have! I love him!” She sobbed out. The notoriously vicious Calhoun is quiet, taking every slap and jab and whatever else the younger Calhoun throws at him. 

“No! Let me go!” She struggled, already exhausted but her defiance made her preserve. “Let me fuckin’ go, Damien!” Sierra screamed, becoming more and more irritable as she got closer to the house. They get to the house and in an attempt to kick the door shoot, Damien’s grip on Sierra loosens. Wiggling out of his hold, she runs into the house as he attempts to follow her, a loud voice booms throughout the house. “Leave her be, Damien.”

The words come from the mouth of Leonard Calhoun as he emerges from his office. Making his way towards his daughter whose face is flushed and mascara stained tears running down her face. “I hate you.” She spat out, chest heaving up and down. “You are vile and you make me fuckin’ sick. He is the only person in this godforsaken family who gives a shit about me and --.” Before she could get another word out, Leonard’s hand is grasping Sierra’s jaw. At 60 he’s not the spring chicken he once was, but still possessed enough of a firm hand to rule this house and get his point across.

“Enough with the dramatics. You are nothing but a spoiled brat, I should’ve sent you away when I had the chance.” His grip tightens, blunt nails digging into her cheeks as her father draws Sierra closer. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out, Sierra? That you could keep that bastard of a child a secret from me?” His tone is low but lethal as he continues to talk. “The maids used to whisper about how easy you were but, Jesus, I didn’t think you’d whore yourself out to your own brother.” 

There’s a whimper that sounds from Sierra, his grip refusing to ease, making it hard for her to speak. “I...love him...” She grated out, to which Leonard all but growls before freeing his hold, it catching Sierra off guard to the point that her already weak frame crumbles to the ground. The gasp is audible from the few maids who were around and Damien already was about to take a step forward, ready to assist. “No, Damien, leave her. Leave her on the ground like the piece of filth she is.” Leonard snarls, looking down at Sierra one last time.“You disgust me -- both of you. Be glad this is the only thing that’s happening to you.” Leonard finished before turning around, heading back into his office, slamming the door shut, leaving her remaining on the ground.

ACT V 

                   It’s been a week since all hell broke loose in the Calhoun house. Despite Sierra’s best efforts, she couldn’t find out where Alistair was and the feeling of loneliness began to take over her with each passing day. Which made her even more reliant on the child growing inside of her.

Eight weeks.

Time is ticking away and everyone around the house is growing anxious because of it. She doesn’t leave her room, afraid that if she goes out they’ll take the baby away from her. The maids secretly leave food outside her room, mostly of concern and pity. She can’t hide away for forever, she knows that, eventually they’ll come for her but Sierra is trying to cling on for as long as she can. Part of her wishing...hoping that Alistair would come home and save her, like he’s always done for as long as she could remember. 

The door to the bathroom opens and immediately Sierra becomes frigid. She’s curled up in the corner of the bathroom, back pressed up against the wall, arms fiercely wrapped around her stomach as if that would protect her baby from them.

“Sierra...” The voice is soft, almost unrecognizable until the figure kneels down into view, making Sierra realize it was her older sister Sloan. They weren’t particularly close. The age gap between them wasn’t all that large but as they grew up, Sloan became colder and closer to Damien, and Sierra found solace in other ways...with Alistair. “You can’t stay here for forever.” Her hand reaches out to tuck a strand of Sierra’s hair behind her ear. It was odd hearing Sloan’s voice sound so warm...caring...and if Sierra didn’t know the woman so well, she’d almost think she’d care. “I know they sent you here.” Sierra stated, head lifting, gaze meeting Sloan’s. “No, I came on my own. I figured you needed someone right now.” Sierra probably wouldn’t believe but it was somewhat the truth. And whether she believed it or not, Sloan was convincing enough to get Sierra out of the bathroom and into a car an hour later, driving into the city and into a private doctor’s suite. 

Sloan’s hand is gripping tightly onto Sierra’s, the room dead silent as they waited. “You’re doing the right thing.” Sloan reassured, but Sierra’s unresponsive, a single hand resting on her un-protruding stomach. It feels like a lifetime but eventually her name -- her real name -- is called, signaling it was time. Her head snaps in Sloan’s direction, the look in her eyes almost pleading with Sloan to convince her to not go through with this. “Everything is going to be fine. Do you want me to go with you?” Meekly Sierra nods, Sloan giving a nod of reassurance before getting up and going into the back room.

The paperwork is nonexistent, the appointment never logged, the files from the first one shredded, the doctors and nurses paid off to never say a word, and with the flick of a machine, the procedure now done, it’s as if the baby never existed....

ACT VI

                     The ride back to the house is once again silent. Sierra’s head is resting against the window, awake but eyes lacking any sort of life to them. She’s looking out to the window but processing nothing, the feeling of numbness washing over her. She doesn’t even register that Sloan hasn’t let go of her hand, her sister occasionally squeezing or running her thumb across Sierra’s knuckles anytime she’d hear her sniffle. 

The front steps to the house remind Sierra of that night and the sadness pulls hers deeper into an inevitable depression. She can’t move, one of the guards coming out to help Sierra out of the car and bring her inside. Set into her bedroom, she remains still for a movement, unmoving. Slowly she’s feeling herself go numb, ready to shut down completely but there’s one thing she has to do. 

With every ounce of strength she has, Sierra rolls out of the bed. She opens up the nightstand drawer, blankly staring at that photo that rested at the very top. She’s hesitant to reach for it, but she does, hands shaking as it’s in her grasp. “I’m so sorry...” Sierra rasps out, eyes squeezing shut as a tear drops from them. The idea of motherhood was romanticized, Sierra not entirely sure if she wanted a child but it was theirs...it was the only thing left of him that she had left. Losing it felt like she had nothing left to live for, all she was left with was emptiness. 

Standing upright, Sierra leaves her room, padding down the long hallway before entering Alistair’s room. His scent hits her nose immediately. The clothes on her frame are shed, grabbing one of his shirts from the dresser drawer and letting it drown her frame as she heads towards his bed. Crawling under the sheets, the comforter wrapping around her is the closet she has to him being next to her. The ultrasound find its way under the pillow as she curls up, quietly crying until she can’t anymore and she fall asleep. 

She stays there for at least three months, the maids coming in to wash her, feeding her anything with liquid in order to keep her going.

A family function forces Sierra out of her depressed stupor, her presence required in order to keep up appearances. Mid-way through the party, Sierra stumbles across her father’s latest girlfriend doing a line of coke in the bathroom. 

And that is how Sierra discovered the newest love of her life and how she got the pain to go away...

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

CSUAPR PRT 8 START

When Lance fell asleep in his lap in their bath, Keith let him rest. His husband looked so incredibly fragile as he placed the entirety of his trust in Keith protecting him. For Keith's part, he couldn't keep his hands off Lance's stomach, rubbing softly until his husband moaned in his sleep and he was forced to behave himself. The quintant was definitely not how things were supposed to go. Lance was supposed to have a simple bug or something. Something he knew how to handle and how to be there for. Not a baby... or twins... Twins... as in two... Finding his hand gripping Lance's stomach by his fingertips, his husband roused slightly. By his estimate, they'd probably been in the bathtub for the last two vargas or so

"Keith?"

"I'm here..."

"You're playing with my tummy..."

"It's a cute little tummy"

Moving to nuzzle at Keith's jawline, Lance gave a small yawn before kiss him randomly

"We're having a baby"

"Yeah... we're even having two..."

"You knocked me up good like you said you would"

"This is true... How do you feel?"

Lance snorted as if something was funny

"Honestly... exhausted and horny... if I'm not sick, scared, freaking out or sleeping, I've been really fucking horny... Not like... not like in my heat, but at the same time, I feel it... like a bite... you know, it's there but you can't scratch it... or rather, I've been trying to not scratch it..."

No wonder Lance had snorted. Horny wasn't on Keith's list of expected replies. Chuckling affectionately, he kissed his lover's hair

"We can't have that..."

  Letting his hand slide down between Lance's legs, Lance whimpered at touch, grabbing Keith's hand and moving it back up to his stomach

"I can't... I can't... I'm too scared"

Keith wasn't particularly in the mood, he only wanted to comfort his husband

"Babe, its only me and you here. No one else... you can let go. Leave it to me..."

"It's dirty... I'm dirty"

"You're not dirty. Your body is clean..."

"But..."

"Do you remember the first time? When you asked me to take the feeling of their touches away? To replace them? Let me touch you... not sex, just touching. You're stressed, exhausted and confused... rely on me"

"It feels dirty... my skin feels itchy"

"Then let touch you... cover you in my  scent so you know I'm here"

"I'm..."

"Babe, I'm not trying to push you... I want you to know you're safe. To feel completely safe. You're in our bathroom. It's just you and me... let me give you some release"

"I feel so sick from the feeling..."

"Then let me make you feel better"

"But what about you? You still don't know how you feel about this pregnancy"

"I don't think either of us know..."

"I want to want it..."

"Then let yourself want it. Let yourself be happy..."

"I don't know if I remember how..."

"I know you do. I never should have started yelling at you..."

Let his hand wander back down, Keith grasped Lance's half erection. Whining into his ear, Lance's breath was hot... and his husband really needed to brush his teeth

"Everyone was telling me how shit a job I've done being there for you. Shiro was disappointed I broke that promise. I was disappointed no one could give me a straight answer... I can't understand if you don't talk to me"

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I don't want to be a burden..."

Twisting to hide his face, Keith jerked Lance off slowly, his free hand rubbing circles on the soft skin that would soon stretch as he swelled. Moaning into his touch, Lance spread his legs further. If their was one major pro to the Galra having built the outpost, it was that their baths were big enough for 4 humans of their size to fit. It was akin to a small swimming pool in that regard, with taps that activated by waving your hand underneath them. Being able to just barely reach within sensor distance with his toes, that's how he'd kept the water from getting too cool during Lance's nap. With how pent to his husband was, it only took a few doboshes for Lance to cum with a soft sigh of relief. Feeling for the plug chain with his toes, Keith pulled it free and gathered Lance up into his arms

"You with me, babe?"

Nuzzling him affectionately Lance took his hand in his

"I think I needed that..."

"I think you might have needed that too..."

"I can't... bring myself to do it alone... it feels wrong"

"I swear to give you all the hand jobs you want or need"

Laughing softly, Lance finally stopped nuzzling into his neck

"You might need too... I'm going to get so fat..."

"Not fat. You're stomach's going to swell up with our children"

"Mmm... yours... I... I don't know if I... it's scary... but not as scary as being raped into pregnancy... I... truly love you Keith... you're my world... I keep trying to do better but nothing works out right... it feels like every step I take forward, I'm swept right back to the start... I don't want to go back to the start"

"You're not back at the start... You're not. You're doing so much better"

"Am I? I feel like I've been in a constant panic attack since I found out. I can't sleep without Shiro there because if he's there, then they're not... I had a seizure I can't even remember... and... I blacked out so badly I forgot who Shiro was... I thought I was back there... he put me to bed, but when I woke up I still thought it... these stupid dreams are so fucking vivid... and I... I broke my promises to you... I've only known for a few quintants now and if I'm this bad already... how am I going to get through this?"

"You're going to get through this because we've both hit the end of our emotional rope. I can't... I can't keep leaving you. I can't stand not being with you..."

"You have so many obligations"

"And out of them, being your husband has always been number one. Even if it hasn't felt that way for either of us. Let's tell the others at dinner that you're coming to stay. Even if it's just for the phoeb to begin with"

"I'm scared to go to Daibazaal... they could tell I was pregnant from my scent alone. What if your team smells it on me?"

"Then I'll punch anyone who says anything in the face"

Lance gave a weak laugh

"You can't do that... I want to be excited for this..."

"Babe. You are recovering. You're allowed to be mixed up and confused because quiznak knows I am. I'm terrified, but I'm not going to walk away. Now, enough wallowing in the bath. You need to eat. I bet you haven't been keeping anything down"

"I've barely got any appetite... We need to join the others for dinner"

"Let's go by the kitchen? Hunk might have something to help the nausea"

"Ginger... is supposed to help. Lisa had bad morning sickness..."

Keith smiled. Lance seemed to be more positive, or at least he sounded more positive

"Alright. Dinner and IV bag after. Dehydrations probably making it even worse"

"I haven't been able to keep anything down"

"We'll figure this out. Together"

      *

Keith had helped him dress in a body suit beneath his husband's clothes. The fact that Keith had flipped out over the pregnancy hadn't been surprising for Lance. The fact that Keith had run hadn't been either. The fact that he'd came back... Lance was still trying to believe that. The fact that his husband had swept him up into his arms and told him that it was ok to be excited was... he had no words. Keith was excited. Keith was excited and scared like he was. Keith was excited and scared and wanted their twins... His husband hadn't left him... and even if it was pretty shitty of him to think he would, he couldn't help his stupid out of control anxieties were leaving him feeling so weak and broken it was almost like being back in the first movement on Erathus. They'd made a baby... two babies... Two living tiny people were inside his stomach right now...

  "What are you smiling about?"

Keith hadn't let him walk to the kitchen. Instead his husband was carrying him in a reverse piggyback kind of deal. Keith had offered him a piggyback, then had gotten himself all worried about putting any pressure on Lance's stomach. Now that he knew it was okayish to be ok with what was happening, he found it incredibly sweet

"You..."

  He hadn't been lying when he said he felt he was a constant panic attack. Shiro's scent was wrong, but he needed that physical human contact... his body and his mind weren't talking all that much before Keith came. Maybe because Keith was the calm in the storm that was his life... He was also the one most affected by Lance's pregnancy, being the baby daddy and all...

  "Me?"

"Yeah... I just... I'm really grateful to have you as my husband"

"I thought you were scared"

"I am. I'm fucking terrified of what's to come"

"I am too... a lot. I cried all over Shiro earlier. I didn't want to fight with you. But I still can't believe it... We hadn't had the proper kid discussion..."

"Don't you think I know that? I know how painful your past is for you... and I'm scared of what it's going to bring up for you"

"I thought I'd have time you know, being a big brother first"

  Quiznak. Right. Krolia was pregnant... The smile on his lips started slipping. Krolia should be enjoying all the attention of her only son, and his help through what was to come. Keith was going to make an absolutely amazing big brother... but he'd only get a few weeks of that before being a father.

  "You'll make an awesome big brother"

"We'll make awesome big brothers... you know mum loves you like you're her own"

"She only loves me because I love you"

"Nah. That's a bonus on top. You've really impressed her as you"

"She still scares me. I hope you know that. She's hot as hell and could snap me in half"

"I remember you saying the exact same thing before"

"It's as true now as it was then. She's not an enemy I'd like to ever make"

"Me either, honestly..."

  Keith fell into a silence that didn't quite sit right with him

"Keith... are you scared of being a big brother?"

"I..."

"You know, I mean what I said. You're going to be amazing big brother. And amazing dad. You've... been through hell. And you'd do anything you can to protect the happiness of those you care about"

"I don't know how to feel about it... now that it's actually happening... I don't have the experience"

"No. You have no idea. I've never been a big brother either..."

"You're going to be a mum... and you basically took care of all us on the Castle all the time. You're... you're going to have to teach me how to make a happy and warm family like yours"

A happy and warm family he'd started avoiding calling again... Lance couldn't picture calling home any time soon, though mami would probably call to check in on Allura day...

"You're the one who makes it happy and warm. I love you... and I know you want this... but go careful on me? When this all hits you again... and it will... if you want to run... don't hide it from me"

"I'm not going to run"

Keith had grown. In every single way possible, yet Lance knew it was still sinking it... Keith might have felt better for talking to Shiro, but how was he going to react tomorrow? Or the day after? Or the day after that?

"Babe..."

"I'm committed to you. And to them... I didn't... I didn't think... I think I'm attached to them already"

Then it would break Keith's heart if anything happened to them. That was the last thing he wanted

"I'll be careful... I'll try be careful... but babe, if we're going to Daibazaal... you're going to have to move your knives from under your bed... if I get stuck in an attack... and if I hurt you... or if I hurt me... I could... I don't want to, but I could hurt them"

"You're not going to hurt anyone"

"I hurt myself... trying to get my skin off... my face and my legs..."

"What?! Where was Shiro?!"

"Sleeping... I didn't remember until I came out of it... there was blood... I was trying to... to get Klearo off me. I'm asking you to do this for me. Kosmo's good at stopping me..."

  It was heavy. It was a heavy thing to drop on his husband. He was practically murdering Keith's happiness with his mental illness

"We can talk about it when we get there. Whatever we need to do, we'll do it together. You're my husband I love you"

"Vomit breath and all?"

"Vomit breath and all..."

   Pausing to kiss him before entering the kitchen, they were still kissing as the door opened. Letting out a long "ew", Hunk covered his eyes with a tea towel

"Guys! Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you and all, but this is a kitchen. Please tell me you haven't defiled this sacred space"

Carrying Lance over to the side bench, his husband sat him down, giving him two quick pecks on the lips, before moving to hop up and sit on the bench beside him. Lance's stomach was already starting to roll at the normal kitchen smells. Hunk had been frying something. The stink of the oil was no friend to his pregnant state. Placing his hand on his knee, Keith squeezed it lightly in a gesture of support

"Sorry, Hunk. I missed my husband"

"Only you two would be married by accident... Holy Quiznak! Lance are you alright?!"

  Meeting each other's eyes, Lance felt as if his stomach was about two ticks from betraying him. He knew he looked ill... Hunk was a natural born worrier, if he could lie his way through talking to Hunk, Hunk would reassure everyone else

"Stomach bug I picked up from an alien. Everything is still tender, but things will be better"

"Are you sure? I've seen you looking like the living dead before, bro, but this... you look like you should still be in bed. Keith, is he..."

"Lance is alright. Like he said, he picked up a bug or two. He's had a check up, and things are good"

"Did he have that check up on Altea?"

Scrunching his brow, Lance was confused

"How did you know?"

"Ah... Pidge was going to tease you, but there are photos of Shiro carrying you in his arms being circulated by the media. You know, "trouble in paradise". And "what could this mean". I recognised the hospital in the background. If you're sick, you're better off having something light... How about I whip you up some ginger tea?"

 Why would anyone care about what he and Shiro were up to on Altea? Or care enough to take photos? And if it was across the galactic press, why hadn't Shiro said anything? Did Curtis know? The last thing he wanted was for stupid rumours to ruin Shiro's happiness.

  "Hunk, my man... Thank you. Where's Tobias?"

Or their actual cooks...

"Helping with the bar. Ugh... someone wanted to trade some things..."

The way Hunk shifted his weight concerned him

"Trade what?"

"Lance, are you buying and selling drugs here?!"

  Lance felt as if the air had been driven from his lungs. Then realised that it was the awful sensation of not being able to breath because he needed to vomit. Sliding off the bench, he rushed to the sink, heaving up what could only be described as a dollop of watery spitty bile. Heaving again, his mouth was all drooly. Coming up behind him, Keith rubbed his back as Lance hacked and spat. The Cuban was already sick of vomiting. He hated how tense it left his stomach muscles, and that "morning sickness" couldn't keep its shit to only happening in the morning

"We buy and sell everything here. If we're buying them here, then we're taking them out of circulation. We buy weapons and tech too. Babe, you've got nothing left in your stomach. Rinse your mouth out"

Keith knew there was nothing left in his stomach. He knew there was nothing left in his stomach. His stomach wasn't listening though. Reaching up he fumbled the tap on, grateful Keith was there to smoothly cover things

"But they... I thought it'd happen like some kind of shady deal... In a back corner... not in the bar in front of everyone"

Rinsing his mouth half a dozen times, Lance sipped down some water cautiously. The worst part of vomiting was the longer burn and the burning kind of smell that lasted inside of him for vargas

"You've been watching too many movies, Hunk"

"I don't want to be involved with that. I never understood how people could become dependent on something so bad for them"

Standing up, Lance sank back into Keith's touch. It was fine to have a moral code, yet it rubbed him the wrong way that Hunk was acting so naive. When it came to bounty hunting, you did whatever you had to do do to get your bounty. It was literally that simple. Quiznak. If someone came in here trying to sell slaves, he'd buy them... He'd buy them, then arrest the person at the first chance he got

"No one is going to offer you drugs here. And most of the people we serve aren't good people... but without them, things around here would be dangerous. Keith, can you get me out the plain crackers? They should be in the cupboard near the first fridge"

"They're not there. Your cooks have no idea how to organise a kitchen... I think we put them over here"

  Walking to the opposite side of the kitchen, Hunk opened one of the upper cupboards. The kitchen was arranged by Lance to be the same as his kitchen at home. Knowing he was upset and uncomfortable, Keith pushed gently on his back, encouraging him to return where they were sitting before. Opening the pack of crackers, Hunk set up a few on a small plate for him. Lance would have rather picked from the pack. He wasn't sure of his strength... which was proven when the plate Hunk gave him nearly fell on the floor. If Keith hadn't acted so quickly to prevent disaster.

  Sipping in his tea and slowly working his way through his crackers, Lance nearly fell asleep when Keith started playing with his hair. Using his fingernails to lightly scratch at his scalp, Lance was practically purring as he let Hunk and Keith's conversation slip past him. As long as he was eating and drinking, Hunk wasn't complaining about his health. Maybe he actually was and he was missing it? Yawning, Keith tugged him closer

"Babe? You good?"

"Sleepy"

"I can see that. Wanna skip dinner?"

"Nah... I wanna cuddle... here"

"Your scents evened out, and your colour looks better. How do you feel?"

"Like crackers might be my new best friend"

  "Hey! I heard that, man!"

Laughing tiredly, Lance tried to find the energy to joke, but it just wasn't there

"No one could replace my main bro"

"As long as you know that. You guys don't have to wait for dinner. We have about another varga before everything will be ready. Daehra said we're all having dinner in the second entertainment room? I can't believe you guys have a first entertainment room, let alone a second"

"Second room is... an o-o-overflow room..."

Yawning widely, he shook himself in an attempt to wake up

"Its mostly things that were already here... like tables and chairs... First entertainment room is for guests"

"We're not guests?"

"Your family... mmm, if we're having dinner there, we can head in early. There's a sofa in there"

Keith's voice came from directly next to his left ear

"I thought you wanted cuddles?"

"Sofa cuddles sound better..."

"Yes, they do. Mostly because neither of you should be sitting on the kitchen counters. Even if you own this place"

Lance ducked his head while Keith laughed. He was still nervous Hunk was going to bring drugs up again... Plus... dinner was only a varga away. Dinner with everyone...

"I think we've been told, babe. Can you give me directions?"

Lance nodded, whining at the loss of Keith's body heat as his husband climbed down off the kitchen bench. Holding his arms out limply, Keith lifted him into his arms

"I'm going to take him down there to rest before dinner. I'm looking forward to some real food. We've been stuck eating purple goo again"

"That stuff should be banned as a violation of human right. Galra rights. Universal rights. I've got things under control here. Maybe you should have Daehra take a look at Lance before dinner?"

Damn. He thought Hunk would let it go

"Hunk, it was just a bug. I'm not contagious"

"You smell funny and you're throwing up"

His chest tightened at the thought of his scent. He was wearing the suit in the hopes it would diminish his scent...

"He smells fine. Although he does need to brush his teeth"

Saved by Keith again, Lance couldn't win

""He" is right here. And he is feeling better for having kept something down"

"You know babe, we could stop by the medbay and run that IV bag before dinner?"

"No... after dinner is better. You're all worrying too much"

"Shiro literally dropped everything to pick you up. We're allowed to be worried"

Sensing his dropping mood, Keith kissed the top of his head

"I would rather Shiro drop a hundred things and know that Lance was alright. Seeing we're not heading to the med room, take your time. Mr Grumpy here needs his rest"

Why was everyone picking on him? He didn't want to be awake when the cannula went in... No. He wanted to be awake, but closer to sleep so he couldn't crave the feel of the injector needle

"That's rich, coming from you. I bet you can't even find your away around without me"

"I found my way to our room"

"That was a fluke... now let's go... I have a sofa to become friends with. Bye, Hunk! I promise we haven't done many gross things in here"

"Dude! What do you mean "many"?! Are the benches safe? Do I have to clean them again? Why are you doing gross things in here to begin with?"

As Keith walked towards the door while Hunk bombarded them questions, Lance waved over Keith's shoulder. He wasn't trying to pick a fight with Hunk, but it was so quiznakking easy to get him worked up.

     *