I Like It When A Whumpee Has To Be Told That They’re Sick Or Hurt Upon Waking Up. Like, They’re So

練習…🐝

What? A new comic?? In THIS economy??? Who'd thunk it!

I know I said I was taking a break from tumblr and I AM but  I… couldn’t stop thinking about this post !! There’s no angst in this and it’s really sappy! It’s always really sappy.

But anyways take this.

Lance felt a little guilty about leaving Keith home alone with such a bad cold, but it had been necessary. It was just a soup and supply run, but Lance didn’t miss the frown on Keith’s face when he said he had to get up, didn’t miss the soft sigh just before he closed the bedroom door. He hadn’t looked back on purpose.

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miscellaneous discord doodles

So I know I have a thousand prompts to fill, and I apologize to all of you who’ve sent me a request forever ago.  I fully intend on working on them once I’m on winter break (in about three weeks).  Anyways, here’s a prompt fill for anon, I hope you don’t mind a college AU and that you feel better soon <3

*

It starts with a sneeze - it’s a scratchy, just barely congested sneeze that signals the beginning of a cold.  It’s the kind of sneeze that tears Allura’s attention from her textbook to her husband who’s been lying on the couch with a blanket, watching Netflix through half-lidded eyes for the last two hours.  

“Bless you…you okay?”

He sniffles, shivering lightly as he shrugs.  He’s not - he’s felt awful all day - but those five words feel like they’ll take too much effort to get out, so he resigns to just shrugging with the hope she’ll pick up on it and come sit with him.  

Allura stands up from the table and walks over to where he’s laying, presses a cool hand to his forehead and then purses her lips.  

She flips her hand over so that she can run the back of her fingers up and down his cheek, “you seem warm…but not worryingly so.”

His breath hitches and he turns his head to muffle not one, not two, but three sneezes into the sleeve of his sweatshirt.  

“Mmmngh…Allura,” he rasps, voice shredded and congested beyond belief.

“No wonder you’ve been so off lately.  You sound awful, want some tea?”

“No…I just want to go to bed,” he whispers, rubbing at his throat with a grimace.

“Medicine and water first,” she says, leaning down to kiss his forehead.  

Shiro rubs at his nose, and then ducks his head into the blanket with a sharp sneeze that makes his head throb.  He sniffles, and pushes himself into a sitting position with a yawn before he pads into the kitchen, over to where Allura is rummaging through their stash of medication.

“I don’t need medicine,” he croaks, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head, “I’m fine.”

“Shiro, you sound miserable.”

He sniffles pitifully, and twists away from her to sneeze twice into his shoulder.  

“See? You need sleep, and you won’t be able to if you’re sneezing all night.”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

She rolls her eyes, “not sleeping is what got you into this mess. Go lie down, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but the buzzing in his sinuses distract him, and he stumbles backwards and slams into the counter as he goes into a sneezing fit.  

After the fifth sneeze, he groans and wipes at his nose with a miserable, stuffy sniffle, and Allura quirks a brow, “you are a hazard, go lie down before you hurt yourself.”

He groans and slides to the floor, holding his head in his hands, “give mbe a mbindute…dizzy.”

She crouches in front of him, and puts a hand on his cheek.  She frowns and flips her hand to feel his forehead, “I think I know why…your fever spiked…how the hell? You didn’t seem nearly this warm a few minutes ago.”

He groans and blinks rapidly, trying to clear the dots that are clouding his vision,  “I wandt to go to bed.”

“Do you think you’re going to pass out, or are you okay to move?”

“I’mb okehh…heh…Nngtsh! In’gsTCH! *snff*”

“Bless you,” she frowns, helping him stand up.

*

Three days later, Shiro and Allura are in bed. Shiro’s been awake for hours, and he already knows that he’s not getting up today, again.  Everything is aching, and he feels too tired to move, let alone get out of bed and go to work.  He already texted his boss that he wasn’t making it in, and then he promptly tossed his phone onto the ground, because the light was agitating his headache.  

Part of him is tempted to wake Allura up, because he’s miserably stuffy and has been muffling coughs and sneezes for the better part of the last three hours.  It’s only about six, though, and she was exhausted when she fell asleep, and he doesn’t want to bother her.  

“Ihh…ihhtchiew! *snff*”

Shiro’s watery eyes snap to his wife’s sleeping form, and when she starts coughing, he puts a hand on her back.

“Allura?” He rasps, “baby, are you okay?”

She groans and flips around so she can bury her face in his chest, “m’tired.”

“Yeah, mbe too,” he croaks, but looks down and strokes her hair, “I cand feel how warmb you are through mby shirt…I think you have a fever.”

She groans, “everything kinda hurts.”

“Sambe here…you sound awful, by the way.”

She coughs again, shivering as she presses closer to Shiro.

“I feel awful.”

“I’mb sorry, Allura,” he groans, “this is all mby fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself…it was going to happen sooner or later.”

He sniffles, “‘kay…wannda mbove to the couch?”

~

“Shiro, we need to call someone,” she rasps, voice shot from all the coughing.

“I kndow,” he groans, muffling another scratchy and congested sneeze into his shoulder.  

Allura coughs miserably, slumping into Shiro even more than before.  She pulls the blankets up to her chin, and pulls her knees to her chest.  Shiro’s head drops back, and he stares up at the ceiling, sniffling incessantly.  Although it seems his fever had gone away for now, he still felt exhausted.  He wraps his arm around her shoulders as she coughs, and stretches his legs out to rest on the coffee table.  

Shiro had managed to make them tea before collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion.  He was spent, and the short walk from the bedroom to the couch had exhausted Allura beyond belief.  Allura is fading fast and needs medicine, and his head is so stuffy and he’s so fuzzy, he knows he needs medicine, too.  

“Call Lance,” she croaks, “or Hunk…I really don’t feel well, Shiro.”

“I kndow,” he sniffles, “we’ll get you feeling better, I prombise.”

She’s half asleep when he dials Lance’s number, so he balances the phone between his ear and shoulder so he can rub her back with one hand and play with her hair with the other.

“Hey, Shiro, what’s up?”

He sniffles, “would you mbind doing us a f-feh…heh…Hih’ihGNXT!”

The phone falls to his lap, and Allura jerks awake as he mutters a string of curses.  

“Wha-?”

“Sorry, hondey,” he mutters stuffily, sniffling miserably.  He raises the phone back to his ear with a grimace, “Landce?”

“Are you dying? You sound like hell.”

“We’re both sick, guh *snff* would you mbind doing us a favor?”

“Yeah, sure.  What do you need?”

“Umb…just…we’re too tired to get up, but Allura ndeeds mbedicinde, and we ndeed tissues and stuff, could you combe and help us?”

“Shit, you guys are too sick to get up?”

“Yeah…we tried, but-”

“-I’ll be there in a few. Try not to die until then.”

“Thanks, Landce.”

“Of course. See you soon.”

Shiro hangs up the phone, drowsiness hitting him like a brick wall as he feels himself beginning to drift off.

The last thing he remembers is Allura coughing and the door opening, and then, nothing.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“...”

“Come here and let’s get you to bed.”

A has a cold and is so congested that they’re struggling to fall asleep. Eventually, they manage to pass out, too exhausted to stay awake any longer, but they keep sniffling and coughing in their sleep, keeping B awake. So B gently slips a cough drop between their lips, and when A wakes up, they realize what B has done for them during the night and thanks them with mentohol flavoured kisses.

it’s the little sick things..

Inspired by an anon earlier: we’ll start with that

- when you make sickie laugh, and the laugh sounds like a half cough/half laugh 

- the small huff of frustration when sickie takes their jacket off, only to have to put it back on because the chills are back

- the worried look you give sickie when you spot them feeling their cheek with the back of their hand

- the wince when sickie has to use a rough paper towel on their nose because they are out of tissues 

- the whimpered “ow” sickie mutters after a rough coughing fit

- the tug of a shirt collar when sickie is suddenly feeling too hot 

- the hunched over posture when sickie’s stomach hurts 

- the jacket pockets filled with cough drops

- the shaky sigh when sickie enters school/work as if trying to mentally prepare for the day despite feeling horrible

- sickie sleeping with their head pillowed on their arms on their desk

- the concerned look only you give to sickie on the subway while everyone else grimaces at the coughing and sneezing 

- the defeated sigh when sickie realizes they left their umbrella home and it’s raining