cabbagespoon:

Doctor’s Orders

Shiro finally goes to visit Keith. It’s been a rough week for these boys. Just some post S7 Sheith, ‘cause they’re all I think about these days…

It’s a shock, at first, seeing Keith.

He lying in bed, so pale and still. He shouldn’t look like that. Shouldn’t look so fragile. It’s all wrong.

Shiro stands just outside Keith’s hospital room, unsure of what he’s waiting for. He blows out a steadying breath and scrubs his fingers through his bangs. He’s so tired. The past few weeks have demanded more of him than he honestly had left to give. He’s been running on bad coffee and prayers for longer than is probably wise. The speech drained the last of his energy and he can feel his body slowly shutting down on him, begging him for rest.

But he refuses to sleep. Not until he makes sure. He has to see him.

If he lost Keith…

Shiro stubbornly halts that train of thought. He isn’t doing himself any favors.

Keith makes a small, sleepy noise, legs shifting restlessly beneath the covers. Shiro feels his lips quiver with the barest trace of a smile, feels his chest swell with a warm, aching fondness. He swallows against the sudden lump in his throat and quietly steps the rest of the way inside.

“Shiro?” Keith’s voice is slow and thick, like honey dripping over a spoon. “Hey, Captain,” he smiles groggily through the haze of drugs.

“Hey, yourself,” Shiro answers, smiling back at him through the blur of welling tears.

Keith stares for a few long moments, taking in every inch of him, assessing the damage. It should make Shiro uncomfortable, but it only makes his heart beat faster, blood pumping so furiously it makes him dizzy.

Keith frowns, forehead crinkling in concern. He doesn’t like what he sees. “Come’ere,” he says softly, reaching out a hand towards Shiro.

Shiro gulps, clenched fist trembling at his side. He doesn’t want to think about how close he came to losing everything.

“Shiro,” Keith urges, gentle yet insistent, understanding what Shiro needs even if he doesn’t quite know himself.

Shiro obliges, shuffling the last few steps and sinking down on the edge of Keith’s bed, careful not to jostle him.

“You’re looking a little better,” Shiro observes brightly, diverting attention while he struggles to get a grip.

“Yeah?” Keith huffs out a tired laugh. “Well, I feel like crap on toast.”

Shiro swallows, feels something squeeze inside his chest. “I — I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I wanted to be.”

“S’okay,” Keith hums, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “Between Mom, Kolivan, and Coran, a guy can only take so much hovering.”

He’d meant it as a joke. Shiro knows that. But his chest still feels funny, clenching with a longing ache he’s powerless to quell. “R-right,” he stutters, still doing his best to smile.

“Hey,” Keith catches his chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently tilting Shiro’s face down to meet his eyes. “I’ve missed you.” His eyes are soft, staring up at Shiro like they’re the only two beings in the universe, like Shiro is all that matters.

Shiro can’t take it any longer. He reaches up to hold Keith’s face in his hands, leaning in to press a fervent kiss to Keith’s forehead. Then another, more gently against his lips. He feels Keith tense for a moment before he relaxes, smiling against Shiro’s mouth before returning the kiss. There’s so much warmth and calm and Shiro can feel an invisible weight lifting, something he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying. He doesn’t ever want to let Keith go.

When Shiro finally pulls away, he’s lightheaded, on the verge of tears for the third fucking time in ten minutes. He rests his forehead against Keith’s, craving the contact so badly he can taste it. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he manages.

Keith reaches up to run his fingers through Shiro’s bangs. “You’re shaking,” he frowns, chewing at his bottom lip.

Shiro’s voice quivers when he laughs, a single rogue tear slipping down his cheek. He doesn’t have the energy to wipe it away.

“Shiro? Look at me,” Keith urges, rubbing the back of his knuckles over Shiro’s cheek to catch the tear. “Are you okay?”

Shiro’s shoulders jerk with another tremulous laugh, “I’m not the one in the hospital bed.”

“Hey,” Keith insists. “I’m being serious.”

Cornered with nowhere to run, Shiro deflates. He sniffs and slumps forward, surrendering his dignity into Keith’s shoulder.

“I just —“ he stutters, trying to inhale without crumbling to pieces, “I just really missed you…”

“I know,” Keith breathes into Shiro’s hair, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in close. “Me too.”

“It’s been a long week,” Shiro sighs, voice muffled in Keith’s shirt.

“Yeah.”

Shiro startles when someone bustles through the door. He immediately sits up, wiping at his eyes and running a hand through his disheveled hair. Keith snorts at his valiant efforts. He’s hopeless.

“Good to see you awake,” the orderly smiles. He’s a little older, probably one of only half a dozen the garrison has left to spare. He walks with a noticeable limp, which would explain why they aren’t utilizing him in the field. He nods politely at Shiro before setting down a tray of food and busying himself checking Keith’s vitals.

“How’s the pain?”

Keith clears his throat. He’s barely spoken above a whisper since he woke up and suddenly his throat feels too dry. “…’s fine,” he croaks. “Head still kinda hurts, though.”

The man nods, tightening a strap on Keith’s arm to check his blood pressure. “Mm, concussions’ll do that. I’m going to give you another round of meds before I leave. They should get you through the night and help with the headache.”

“Thanks,” Keith hisses softly when the man replaces his bandage.

“But you should try to eat something,” he tilts his head, indicating the tray he brought. “This heavy duty stuff doesn’t tend to sit so well on an empty stomach.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Shiro promises, looking far too serious for Keith’s liking.

“You’re staying?” he asks, looking a little surprised.

Shiro nods.

“Okay, then.” The man shrugs, administering something into Keith’s IV. After a few seconds Keith’s eyelashes flutter, limbs relaxing as the drug begins working through his bloodstream.

The orderly packs up his instruments and pauses beside Shiro, speaking a little quieter. “Make sure you get something in him before he passes out. He’s been running on empty for almost twenty-four hours.”

Shiro rests his hand briefly on the man’s shoulder, a silent gesture of thanks.

When they’re alone again, Shiro walks over to inspect the tray. There’s a steaming bowl of broth and noodles, a piece of fruit and a bottle of water. He picks up the bowl and a spoon.

Keith wrinkles his nose when Shiro reclaims his spot on the edge of the bed, bowl balanced in his Altaen hand and spoon poised in the other.

“M’not really hungry.” He’s slurring again, looking like he’s about two slow blinks away from dozing off.

“Sorry,” Shiro tsks. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Shiro,” Keith groans dramatically. “You’re not seriously going to spoon-feed me. I can hold a goddamn bowl—“

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” Shiro interrupts calmly, dipping the spoon into the broth. “Just try a few bites, okay?”

Keith can’t even hold the pout, not against the onslaught of Shiro’s earnestness. But he still manages a small disgruntled noise before rolling his eyes and opening his mouth to accept the bite.

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles around a mouthful of noodles.

There’s a little smirk tugging at the corners of Keith’s lips when he swallows. Shiro can feel himself blushing and quickly diverts his gaze. He positions the bowl underneath Keith’s chin to catch anything that drips, concentrating on spooning the soup to Keith’s lips.

After a few more mouthfuls, Keith’s starting to struggle. He can barely keep his eyes open.

“Mm, Shiro?” he murmurs, throat bobbing around a thick swallow. “I — I think I’m done.”

“You’ve barely touched it,” Shiro frowns, already waiting with the spoon.

Keith gulps hard again, but he leans forward to take the bite.  He licks the residual broth from his lips and swallows, closing his eyes in concentration.

“Keith?” Shiro freezes, watching the color drain from Keith’s face. “You good?”

He tries to nod, tries to relax. But when he opens his mouth a small belch slips out, immediately followed by the last mouthful of broth. It splashes back into the bowl and spatters Shiro’s hand.

“Woah, okay…” Shiro quickly trades out the bowl for a metal basin resting beside the bed. “Yeah, I think you’re done.” He rubs a hand down Keith’s back, holding the basin below his chin with the other.

Keith coughs and spits up a little more of the broth before finally collapsing back against the pillows, exhausted.

“Ow,” he groans, gingerly lifting a hand to his bandaged head.

Shiro clicks his tongue sympathetically, wiping Keith’s mouth and chin with a cloth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you.” He feels horrible. Keith had only been trying for him.

Keith peels open one eye to squint up at him. “Shiro?”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Shiro snorts around a watery smile.

Keith rolls onto his side and stretches out his hand, fingers grazing over Shiro’s thigh. “Come lay down?”

“I—“ Shiro starts to protest.

“Jus’ for a little while.” Keith’s eyes are already drooping, mouth going slack. But he finds Shiro’s hand and locks his fingers, holding their entwined hands loosely against his stomach.

Shiro brushes a strand of dark hair out of Keith’s eyes, then he carefully slides in behind him. Keith is so warm. He fits perfectly against Shiro.

He closes his eyes, breathing in Keith’s scent, savoring his presence, and sinks further into the pillows.

Outside, the sun is just beginning to set, casting sleepy shadows across the corners of Keith’s room. He can see the first couple of stars flickering into existence. He wonders if he’s seen them before.

There’s so much to do and not enough time. He’s already been gone too long—

Keith reaches back to stroke Shiro’s forearm, fingers tracing a gentle rhythm over his skin. His breaths are deep and even, expanding reassuringly against Shiro’s chest.

Shiro exhales slowly, following his pattern, allowing Keith to lead him. Allowing his mind to rest.

Shiro needs this. He’s needed this for a long time.

But Keith already knew that.