Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What’s with the scarf, Pidge?” Shiro says as Pidge finally walks into the room.

The youngest Paladin is twenty minutes late for breakfast, and Coran was beginning to worry. Although seeing her now isn’t exactly reassuring him. Shiro was right to be suspicious, because Pidge does look rather odd with a large scarf wrapped around her neck and chin. Especially because she never wears scarves and it isn’t exactly cold inside the Castle.

“Nothing,” Pidge says, failing miserably at sounding nonchalant. Her voice sounds strained, as though she is in pain but trying to hide it.

She walks towards them and sits down beside Keith. Her face pale and clammy, Pidge appears to be shivering, her arms wrapped around herself. Keith looks at her, and Hunk leans around Keith to stare at her too.

When she realises that everyone at the table is staring at her, Pidge sighs. “What? Can’t I have breakfast without you all looking at me?”

“Well, it would help if you were actually eating, Pidge,” Allura says.

“I’m not that hungry,” Pidge says, resting her elbows on the table.

“Are you feeling all right, Number Five?” Coran asks, leaning forwards in his seat.

Pidge avoids eye contact, pouring herself a glass of juice with rather shaky hands. “I’m fine. Really.”

She takes a sip of juice and winces. It is only a subtle wince, but Coran sees the pain flash across her face. No one says anything else (making it a very awkward breakfast), but Coran can’t stop thinking about how ill Pidge looks. There must be something wrong with her.

He just hopes it isn’t serious.

---

When Pidge doesn’t turn up for training, Coran knows his suspicions were correct. Leaving Allura and the other Paladins to begin their training exercises, Coran heads off through the Castle to track her down. He knows his worries are probably irrational, but he can’t help but worry. After all, he cares deeply about the Paladins; they are like family to him.

He reaches Pidge’s bedroom and knocks on the door.

“Pidge, are you in there?” he calls.

“No,” Pidge says, and Coran is momentarily confused by her response.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Please go away, Coran.”

He sighs. “Pidge, please. Are you ill?”

Pidge doesn’t reply, but he hears footsteps and the door opens. She isn’t wearing the scarf, and Coran can see why Pidge was trying to hide her neck. Her jaw and neck are swollen, a visible swelling in both sides of her neck, below her ears. Pidge looks even paler than earlier, her face shining with sweat. She leans against the doorframe, her legs wobbling.

Coran stares at her, but then he snaps into action.

“Sit down, Number Five, before you fall over,” he says, putting his hands on Pidge’s shoulders and steering her towards her bed.

“I’m all right, really,” Pidge says, sinking onto her bed.

“I don’t think you are,” Coran says.

Pidge sighs, rubbing her sore neck. “I’m all right for training, though. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“No you won’t,” Coran says, covering her with a blanket. “You are ill. You need to stay in bed until you feel better.”

“But…” Pidge groans, her voice shaking. “I can’t miss training. I don’t want to let everyone down…”

Coran sighs, smiling sadly. “You aren’t letting anyone down. Everyone gets ill sometimes. You just need some time to rest.”

Pidge gives him a weak smile, wrapping the blanket around herself. “Thanks.”

“So, what’s wrong,” Coran says, sitting down beside her. “You can tell me. Maybe I can help.”

“It’s probably nothing, but I’ve got a really sore throat… and I think I’ve got a fever… and… well, I think I’m sick.”

“So do I,” he says. “Your appearance makes that somewhat obvious.”

Pidge smiles. “Yeah, I look pretty bad, don’t I?”

“Would you mind if I had a look at your throat?” Coran says. “I’m not a doctor by any means, but I do know a bit about medicine.”

“Go ahead,” Pidge says, and she opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out.

Coran carefully presses the swollen lumps on Pidge’s neck (“Sorry,” he says when she winces), and then looks down her throat. The sides of her throat are red, swollen and covered in spots of what must be pus. He grimaces, and Pidge wraps her hands around her neck,

“Now, from what I know about human physiology, that looks like tonsillitis,” he says. “Not life threatening, but very painful.”

“You can say that again,” Pidge mutters. As Coran starts to repeat what he just said, she adds, “Not literally.”

“So I can get you something for the pain, and I’ll tell the others why you’re not in training,” he says, standing up. “Is that all right?”

Pidge smiles, looking the happiest she has been all day. “Yeah, it is. Thanks, Coran.”

“You’re welcome, Number Five,” Coran says, and he leaves to get Pidge some painkillers.

And as he closes the door, the Paladin gives him the sweetest smile.

Chapter Text

Coran is alerted to Shiro’s presence on the Bridge when Lance and Pidge burst out laughing.

“Go ahead, laugh,” Shiro says, and he doesn’t sound very impressed. Which is fair enough, given that being laughed at isn’t very fun.

“Sorry,” Pidge says, stifling laughter. “I just… wasn’t expecting you to look like that. Are you all right?”

“Yes, are you?” Allura asks.

Hearing the concern in her voice is what makes Coran turn around. His eyes widen when he looks at Shiro, totally confused and slightly horrified at his appearance. Shiro’s face and neck (and probably the rest of his skin, not that Coran can see that) are covered in scabbing red spots. He looks washed out and exhausted (even for him), but his posture and stance are as strong as ever.

Coran rushes towards him, but freezes a few steps away. Of course, he knows whatever is wrong with Shiro won’t be able to hurt him (humans and Alteans have vastly different immune systems), but he doesn’t want to risk him infecting the other Paladins. And what is even wrong with him? Has he been poisoned? Have they come into contact with another alien race that can pass diseases on to humans? Is his condition serious?

“Whatever is wrong with you, Number One?” he asks, looking Shiro up and down. The spots on Shiro’s face look most uncomfortable, and his hand keeps twitching; Coran wonders if his condition is making him itchy.

Shiro sighs and folds his arms across his chest. Coran sees more spots on the back of his hand. “It’s nothing. Sorry I’m late.”

“Your being late isn’t the problem here, Shiro,” Allura says, and Coran realises that everyone in the room (even Allura’s Mice) is staring at Shiro. “We are more concerned by your appearance.”

“It isn’t important,” Shiro says, clearly embarrassed to have everyone staring at him.

“But you must be unwell,” Coran says. “We need to take you down to the sick bay, to find out what is wrong.”

“We can’t risk you infecting the other Paladins,” Allura says.

“And we might be able to heal those spots,” he says.

Shiro ducks his head, sighing again. “You don’t need to worry. I know what’s wrong with me.”

When Shiro hesitates, Coran stares at him. “What is it, then?”

“He’s got chickenpox,” Hunk says, wandering over.

Shiro groans, his cheeks flushing almost as red as the spots.

Coran and Allura glance at each other.

“Chickenpox?” Coran says.

“Yeah, chickenpox,” Lance says, grinning.

“It’s a virus,” Pidge explains, adjusting her glasses. “It’s really common in humans. Most people get it as a kid. I know I did.”

“Yeah, and me,” Hunk says.

“I got it at the Garrison,” Keith adds. “Loads of us did.”

Lance laughs. “Yeah, I remember that. There was barely anyone in class for weeks.”

“Yeah, it was weird,” Hunk says, smiling.

“I appreciate your anecdotes,” Allura says. “But could someone please explain what this virus actually is?”

Shiro sighs. “It’s a strain of a virus that most people have in their system. But if your immune system is low, it can’t fight it off like it normally does, so… you get sick.”

“And we know we won’t catch it because we’ve all had it before,” Keith says.

“So you can only contract this virus once?” Coran asks, still confused by human biology.

“Well, technically you can get it more than once, but most people build up immunity so they never get it again,” Pidge says.

“So none of you will get this illness as well?” Allura says.

“Hopefully not,” Pidge says.

“So you’ve only got to worry about Shiro,” Lance says, grinning.

“I don’t need anyone to worry about me,” Shiro insists, frowning. “I’m fine.”

Really? Because you don’t look fine. Coran thinks.

---

Despite Shiro’s protests, he soon ends up sat on a bed in the Castle’s sick bay. He sits with his legs crossed, rubbing his spots with the back of his hand.

“Don’t itch,” Coran says, looking up from rummaging around the cupboard.

“I’m not,” he says. “I’m rubbing them.”

“Well don’t rub the spots, either,” Coran says. “Pidge said you can get scars doing that.”

Shiro scoffs and points at the scar running across his face. “Something tells me a tiny scar won’t be the end of the world.”

Coran raises an eyebrow, totally understanding his point. “Still don’t scratch them.”

“They’re really itching, though,” Shiro says.

“I know,” Coran says, finally locating what he was looking for. “That’s why I need you to use this.”

He hands Shiro the bottle of medical lotion. The label is written in Altean, so he decides to explain.

“Put this on your spots and it should soothe the swelling and stop them itching,” he says. “It works on most spots and sores that I’m aware of, so it should help with your… chickenpox.”

Shiro smiles and opens the bottle. The lotion is bright green and has a pungent smell that makes them both grimace. Coran expects Shiro to moan, but he covers his fingers in the green paste and starts smearing it across his hands and face.

When he is finished, his skin is bright green and he looks a bit ridiculous. Shiro smiles weakly.

“I’m not going to laugh at you,” Coran says.

“Thanks. You’re not going to force me to stay in bed, are you?” Shiro asks.

“Of course not,” he says. “And I’m not a doctor, so you don’t have to do anything I say anyway. I just recommend that you take it easy for the next few days. I’m not expecting you to stay in bed and do nothing, but refrain from the more vigorous exercises on the training deck. And I can easily get you some more of that lotion if you run out. Is that all right?”

And despite being covered in green paste and looking rather unwell, Shiro smiles. “Thanks, Coran.”

Chapter Text

Lance is most definitely what Pidge calls a chatterbox. It doesn’t bother him (in fact, Coran finds it rather amusing when Lance never shuts up), but it is undoubtedly true: Lance talks a lot. So when Lance goes quiet, Coran knows that something is usually wrong.

Sometimes, Lance is upset. Someone might say something that reminds him of home, and Lance goes quiet, withdrawing from the conversation. And then someone (usually Hunk or Coran, because Hunk is his best friend and Coran because Lance is his favourite – not that he has favourites) will track Lance down and he will eventually open up and possibly cry and tell them about something he misses from Earth.

Other times, Lance is in a bad mood. If he is feeling irritable, he stops talking and leaves the room, preferring to isolate himself than end up shouting at the others. Coran doesn’t blame him, because he is sure that everyone feels like that sometimes (he knows that he does). And so Lance will usually storm off and then return after a while, smiling and acting like himself again.

And sometimes, Lance stops talking because he feels ill. Illness is rare in the Castle of Lions (mainly because Coran is so good at keeping everything clean and making sure everyone gets decontaminated after going into unknown places), but everyone has become ill at least once. And Lance is no exception. Whenever Lance gets ill, his movements slow down and he insists on carrying on his day to day routine despite struggling with a fever. And, given that he is often seriously ill but trying to deny it, he ends up so exhausted that he lacks the energy to speak.

And, of course, there is the time Lance doesn’t speak because he physically can’t…

---

Realising that the Paladins are getting complacent (it has been a while since their last mission, and no one is really doing any training), Allura and Coran decide to do another drill. The results are better than last time (to be honest, anything would be better than last time), but it still isn’t good enough.

“Wake up!” Allura shouts into the microphone, blaring her voice throughout the Castle. “Wake up, Paladins! The Galra are attacking!”

This time, Shiro, Keith and Pidge turn up fully dressed. Hunk is still wearing his pyjamas. And Lance doesn’t turn up at all.

Allura glances at Coran, exasperated.

“Seriously?” she says. “We have gone on dozens of missions. You can form Voltron. You have proven yourselves to be extremely competent fighters. And you still can’t turn up for a drill! Hunk, why aren’t you dressed?”

Hunk smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I was rushing.”

“Where is Lance?” Coran asks.

“I don’t know,” Shiro says.

“I didn’t see him on the way here,” Keith says.

“He might be asleep with his headphones on,” Hunk adds. “I think that’s why he didn’t hear you last time.”

Allura sighs.

“I’ll go and get him,” Coran says. “The rest of you, head down to the training deck. Number Five and I have been doing some adjustment to the training programme. It should be interesting for you all to try out.”

Pidge grinning, the four Paladins head off for the training deck. Allura raises her eyebrows.

“Honestly,” she says.

Coran smiles, and goes off in search of Lance. Knowing that the Paladin is probably still in his bedroom, that is where Coran goes first. He knocks on the door, expecting Lance to be listening to music and so not hear him.

“Lance?” he calls through the door.

He hears Lance groan, and there is a scuffling noise and then Lance opens the door. He looks dreadful, his face shining and his hair stuck to his head with sweat. Wearing his Paladin dressing gown and slippers, Lance tries to smile, but he grimaces instead.

“Lance?” Coran says, shocked by his dreadful appearance. “Are you ill?”

Lance opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. He presses his hand against the front of his neck, screwing his face up.

Coran frowns, confused. “Lance?”

Lance moves his lips as though he is speaking, but he only produces a hoarse groan. He points at his throat, his eyes clearly trying to tell Coran something without speaking. Which is when Coran understands the problem.

“Can’t you speak?”

Lance smiles, giving him a thumbs up (the Paladins taught him and Allura that expression a while ago). And then he wobbles, stumbling into the doorframe.

“Careful!” Coran says, grasping Lance’s shoulders. He steers the Paladin towards his bed, and helps him to sit down. “Stay there. I’ll be back in a tick.”

Coran rushes out of the room and hurries to the training deck. Shiro and Keith are in the middle of a sword fight, and freeze in place as Coran skids into the room. He tries to catch his breath, watching everyone stare at him.

“I found Lance,” he says when he can speak again.

“Was he in his room?” Hunk asks.

Coran nods. “As I suspected. And, unfortunately, he is unwell.”

“Lance is sick?” Pidge says, and Keith drops his sword.

“I’m afraid so,” Coran says. “He appears to have lost his voice. Does anyone know what might be causing it?”

“Losing your voice…” Shiro says to himself, frowning.

“I’ve got it!” Hunk cries. “I think he’s got laryngitis.”

Coran must look confused, because Pidge says, “When your voice box gets inflamed. I got it once. It’s not nice.”

“Me too,” Hunk says, and he shudders as though recalling an unpleasant memory. “It wasn’t nice.”

“So you think he has laryngitis,” Coran says, putting his hand against the front of his neck, in the place where humans have their larynx. They all nod. “Right, then. I’ll go and see what I can do to help him.”

As he leaves the room, he hears someone mumble, “Favouritism.”

He spins around. “Who said that?”

None of the Paladins say anything, but they all start laughing. Why does everyone think that Lance is his favourite?

---

A while later, Coran returns to Lance’s room with a bundle of what he hopes are helpful items in his arms. Lance is sat up in bed, leaning his head against the wall.

“I’ve brought you some things,” Coran says, sitting down on the end of the bed. He puts the things down on the bed, and points at them one by one. “I hope they will help. These are some painkillers, like the ones I gave you when you broke your arm. These are some tablets to help you sleep, if you need them. This you can spray down your throat and it should directly soothe the sore area. And this… well, this can speak for you until your voice returns.”

Lance’s eyes widen, and he takes the tablet from Coran’s outstretched hand.

“I think you had similar devices on Earth,” he says, watching Lance study the buttons and screen with trembling fingers. “Just type your message and it will read it out for you.”

For a few ticks, the room is silent as Lance taps the buttons on the screen. But then he plays his message, and a smile spreads across his flushed face.

Thanks, Coran, the tablet says, saying the words in a stilted, robotic voice.

Lance laughs, but then he coughs, holding his neck.

“Are you all right?” Coran asks, concerned.

I’m fine. This just makes a funny voice.

Coran smiles. “It does, doesn’t it?”

He stands up, wringing his hands together. “Now, is there anything else you think you need?”

Lance shakes his head slightly. Don’t think so.

“Right then,” Coran says, walking towards the door. “See you later. If you need me, just message me on there. And I hope you feel better soon, Lance.”

Thanks for looking after me.

Coran turns his head just as he leaves the room. Just before the door slides shut, he sees the sweetest smile on Lance’s face. And he must admit that his eyes are a bit watery as he heads back to the Bridge.

“You’re welcome,” he mouths, smiling.

Chapter Text

If you ask the different members of their team, they will all give you different reasons why they like being part of Voltron. Some, like Shiro, will talk about how they like helping others and making the universe a better place. Pidge will tell you about how Voltron is giving her a chance to find her family. Allura will explain how meeting so many other people stops her feeling quite so alone.

And then there are the other reasons. Such as Lance’s love of meeting people (mainly girls) to talk to and flirt with, or Hunk’s love of the exotic foods they always get to eat on all of the different planets they visit. Those answers don’t sound quite so impressive, but they fit their Paladins well.

And, at the end of the day, their reasons aren’t that important. Because whatever their motives are, they are still skilled pilots and fighters, flying the Lions and piloting the Castle just as well as the Paladins of Old. And, whatever their reasons, Coran is still very proud of them.

---

After a rather dangerous mission in which Keith almost crashes the Red Lion and Hunk gets travel sick for the first time in ages, the Paladins manage to free another planet from the oppressive reign of the Galra. And, in a move that they were all expecting, the seven members of their team are invited to a celebratory banquet.

And, as usual, they have a great time. Shiro makes friends with a woman who also has a prosthetic arm; Lance chats to everyone and takes lots of selfies (Coran thinks that is the correct term); Allura has a quiet conversation with a timid young member of the royal family; Keith actually talks to someone, having an in-depth discussion about the Red Lion with a boy who loves Voltron; Hunk tries every dish on the table and ends up talking to the head chef about how wonderful her food is; and Coran has to explain what a moustache is, because people on this planet don’t know what facial hair is. Basically, their afternoon is as fun and interesting and relaxing as it can be after a morning fighting the Galra.

It is dark when they eventually leave, Lance taking one final selfie as Keith nudges him to make him carry on walking. Everyone is full and calm and rather tired, and Coran for one can’t stop talking about what a wonderful day it has been.

They return to the Castle and take their usual positions on the Bridge. Distress signals are still reaching them from all over the galaxy, so they plot a journey to the nearest planet needing help, deciding to get some sleep before they get there.

As Coran runs a diagnostic on the Castle’s defences (the Castle took a few hits earlier during Voltron’s fight with the Galra, but there doesn’t appear to be any real damage), Allura and the Paladins chat to each other. He half-listens to their conversations, hearing snapshots of bickering arguments and silly jokes and comments about the people they met today.

“And I never thought I’d ever see Coran give a lesson about moustaches, but here we are,” Lance says, laughing, and Coran spins around.

“Neither did I, Paladin,” he says. “But I felt the need to defend my moustache, so that is what I did.”

For some reason, his words make everyone burst out laughing.

Well, almost everyone. Hunk is the only person who doesn’t laugh, and Coran begins to wonder if there is something wrong with him. Hunk is always so silly and upbeat that to see him sitting there blankly when everyone else is laughing is rather unsettling.

“Are you all right, Paladin?” he asks, walking over to where Hunk is sat (and wondering why the others are still laughing, because he wasn’t trying to be funny).

He looks up and smiles, but it looks forced. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

If you say so, Coran thinks. He decides to keep an eye on Hunk, just in case anything happens to him.

Sure enough, something does. While the others talk, Hunk stays quiet, and his body language changes. He seems to tense up, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He starts to sweat, his face shining. And then, just as Coran is about to approach him again, Hunk jumps to his feet.

“I need to go,” he babbles, and he groans, pressing a hand over his mouth.

And he hurtles out of the room. The sound of vomiting is audible before the doors slide shut. Coran looks at Allura, her worried expression echoing his own feelings.

“Hunk!” Lance calls. “You all right, buddy?”

They all rush out into the corridor, Lance and Coran getting to Hunk before the others. He is kneeling on the floor, vomit splattered all over the floor. He groans and looks up at them, his face damp with sweat and saliva and stomach acid coating his lips. Coran and Lance kneel down on either side of him, Lance putting his arm around Hunk’s shoulders.

“Sorry,” Hunk mumbles. He heaves and vomits again, rubbing a hand against his abdomen. “Sorry ‘bout the mess.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Coran says. “We can easily clean this up.”

“Yeah, we don’t care about the puke, man,” Lance says, rubbing his hand in a circular motion on Hunk’s back.

“We’re more concerned about what’s made you sick,” Shiro says, stepping closer.

Coran hears footsteps, and realises that Pidge is rushing down the corridor. Has Hunk’s vomiting made her feel nauseous too?

“How do you feel?” Keith asks.

“How do you think he feels?” Lance says, raising his eyebrows. “He’s just puked everywhere!”

Keith looks offended, folding his arms. “I was only trying to show concern.”

“Guys,” Shiro says wearily. “Now’s not the time to bicker. How do you feel, Hunk?”

“I dunno,” Hunk says as Keith and Lance glare at each other. “My stomach just hurts. It’s churning and I just feel really sick.”

“Could it be motion sickness?” Allura suggests, clearly concerned. “An after affect of travelling in your Lion?”

“I don’t think so,” Hunk says. “My stomach never hurts when I’m motion sick. I just barf.”

“And your motion sickness isn’t nearly as bad these days,” Lance says.

Hunk vomits again, and Coran listens to the others suggest causes for his sudden illness. And then something occurs to Coran, and he wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner.

“Could it be something you ate?” he says.

Hunk looks up; his eyes are watering, giving the impression that he has been crying. “What, like food poisoning?”

Coran’s eyes widen. “Poisoning? You think you may have been poisoned? We need to take you to the sick bay as quickly as possible and—”

“Coran, calm down,” Shiro says, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Food poisoning isn’t what you think. It’s just what we call it when food gives you an infection because it wasn’t stored or prepared properly. Someone hasn’t tried to kill Hunk or anything like that.”

Coran sighs, relieved (and also wishing that humans would make more sense sometimes). “That’s a relief. I thought we were going to have a major diplomatic situation on our hands.”

“So you think he might have eaten something dodgy at the banquet?” Keith says.

“It seems likely,” Coran says.

“But it tasted so good,” Hunk moans, vomiting again.

“Will this help?”

Coran looks up to see Pidge running towards them, a large bowl in her hands. She skids to a stop in front of Hunk, and hands him the bowl.

“You can barf in there instead,” she says, a bit out of breath. “Then you won’t feel bad about the mess.”

Hunk smiles weakly. “Thanks, Pidge.”

Coran looks at Hunk, and then at the others, and stands up. “I don’t think we should stay here. Let’s get you to bed, Hunk, and then you can be comfortable.”

And I can clean up the vomit, he thinks.

---

With help from the others, Coran soon gets Hunk to his bedroom. He gets into bed and hunches up under the blankets, his sick bowl resting on his knees. He looks dreadful, but there is a weak smile on his face.

“Thanks, guys,” he says.

Hoping he feels better soon, the others leave the room. Now alone with Hunk, Coran puts his supplies (painkillers, anti-emetic tablets and a pack of tissues) down beside Hunk’s bed.

“How are you feeling?” Coran asks.

Hunk shrugs his shoulders. “Not too good.”

“Now I need you to drink this,” he says, handing Hunk a glass of liquid. “It’s a rehydration solution. Because you will lose a lot of fluids if you keep vomiting, and I don’t want you to get dehydrated. It doesn’t tate very nice, but promise me you will take a sip every so often. All right?”

“I promise,” Hunk says. “Thanks, Coran.”

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Just call if you need me.”

“I will,” Hunk calls as he leaves the room. “And thanks for looking after me.”

Coran smiles.

I’m glad I could help, he thinks.

Chapter Text

The first thing Coran notices is a change in Allura’s voice. Her voice is usually clear and firm, able to make her fellow Paladins nervous just by changing her tone ever so slightly. After all, the Princess is a born diplomat, and her voice is very important. Which is why the slightest change in her voice alerts Coran to a possible problem.

“Good morning, Princess,” he says enthusiastically, walking onto the Bridge.

Hunk and Pidge are already here, talking technobabble about something he couldn’t even begin to understand. Shiro follows behind him, with Keith trailing behind them both. Lance isn’t even here yet; he is probably still in bed. And Allura is stood with her back to them all, standing in front of Coran’s console and staring out into space.

“Good morning,” Allura says, and her voice is slightly hoarse.

It reminds Coran of how she speaks after a long speech, when she has tired her voice out. But it is first thing in the morning, and she didn’t do a speech last night. There must be something wrong. So Coran approaches Allura, waiting until he is stood right beside her before speaking.

“Are… are you all right, Allura?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

Allura doesn’t turn her head, but Coran looks at her. Her skin looks clammy, and her eyes are bloodshot and fatigued.

“Yes, I’m all right,” she says, and her voice sounds even worse close up.

“Are you sure?” Coran says. he doesn’t mean to fuss, but Allura is like a daughter to him, and he worries when she is unwell. And she certainly looks unwell.

Allura smiles reassuringly, but the expression doesn’t reach her eyes. “I am fine, Coran. There is no need to worry about me.”

Coran respects her words, but he doesn’t believe her. There is something wrong with the Princess. He just needs to find out what.

---

Despite Allura’s protests, Coran keeps a close eye on her. As she goes about her daily routine in the Castle, Coran follows her (or gets one of the Paladins to follow her), wanting to see if he could spot other symptoms of her obvious illness.

And throughout the day, he notices that her condition starts to deteriorate. Allura’s voice gets hoarser and shakier, she is sweating more and she seems to be shaking, especially her hands. And her movements are slower, as though it is taking her a lot more effort to do everything. Which it probably is, given how she is clearly ill.

Back on the Bridge, Allura has sat down, and Coran has to wonder if it’s because she is lacking the energy to stand up. She looks wobblier than ever, and Coran just wants to wrap her in a blanket and tuck her up in bed, just as he did when she fell ill as a child and Coran was left to care for her.

The Paladins, who have been looking out for Allura on Coran’s behalf, have also begun to suspect that something is wrong with the Princess. They keep looking at her, concern written on their faces.

But Allura won’t respond to their sympathetic looks. She obviously doesn’t want to distract them from their mission with what she views as trivial health complaints. Except it isn’t trivial (anything that could affect her performance as the pilot of the Castle is serious), and that isn’t the point anyway. They are all worried about her, and just want her to rest.

And Allura has been rather good at suppressing whatever symptoms she is dealing with, determined to carry on like normal. At least until the strangest thing happens. Allura breathes in slowly, screwing her face up and rubbing her nose. And then her eyes close and she exhales sharply, air rushing out of her nose and mouth as she makes the strangest, loudest noise Coran has ever heard.

“Princess!” he cries, rushing over to her. “What is happening?”

His heart racing, Coran puts his arms around her, horrified to see clear, thick fluid leaking out of Allura’s nose. And her eyes are watering, giving the imrpression that she is crying. Allura looks shocked, her watery eyes wide with confusion.

“What happened, Coran?” she says, her voice thick.

“I don’t know,” Coran says. “But I think this is serious. I have never seen a person do that before. We must get you down to the medical bay!”

“Are you serious?” Lance asks, looking over that them. “What’s all the drama about?”

Allura leans against him. Coran can feel the heat radiating off of her. She must be running a fever.

“But did you see that?” Coran says. “Allura’s body is—”

“She only sneezed,” Hunk says, smiling reassuringly. “It’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, it’s normal when you’re sick,” Shiro says.

Pidge stares at the two Alteans. “Do Alteans… not sneeze?”

“Sn-ee-ze?” Coran says, stumbling over the word. He passes Allura his handkerchief and she wipes her face.

“No, we don’t,” Allura says. “At least, I don’t think so…”

“It’s just a thing your body does to clear something from your nose,” Pidge says. “It feels weird, but it’s harmless. So do you really not sneeze?”

“Genuinely, in all my life, I have never seen that happen to someone,” Coran says, his arm still around Allura.

“That’s so weird,” Lance says.

“Then you must have a foreign illness,” Pidge says, smiling as though she has made a medical breakthrough. She rushes to sit down. In her seat, Pidge pulls up a screen and starts scanning the databanks, the light of the screen shining on her glasses.

“Do you mean, I’ve contracted an illness not native to Altea?” Allura asks.

“It seems so, Princess,” Shiro says.

“So you are feeling unwell?” Coran asks.

Allura sighs in defeat. “I think so.”

“Right, then,” Coran says, standing up. “If you could do some research into this sneezing, Number Five, I shall escort the Princess to her bedroom.” Before Allura can argue, he takes her hand and helps her to her feet. “You need to rest, Allura. We should be able to find the cause of your illness and help you feel better pretty soon. But in the meantime, you need a rest. And we can keep things running here without you, can’t we?”

The Paladins all nod in agreement.

“Yeah, you rest, Allura,” Hunk says.

“We’ll look after everything here,” Lance says.

“You go rest,” Shiro says.

And as she sneezes again, Allura lets Coran take her arm and lead her off of the Bridge.

---

Sometime later, Coran finds himself entering Allura’s bedroom. With help from Pidge, Coran discovered that Allura has a virus called Balmeran Influenza, something she obviously caught during their last visit to the Balmera. Unfortunately, like all viruses, there is no real way to treat it. So Allura will just have to stay in bed until she recovers.

“This is most inconvenient,” she says, taking a sip of the rehydration fluid Coran has given her to drink.

Coran sits on the end of her bed. “I know, Princess. But health doesn’t run a schedule. And I think it will do you good to have a rest for once.”

Allura sighs, but it turns into a cough. “I suppose so.”

As Coran goes to leave, Allura grabs his hand. Her hand is sweaty, but he doesn’t let go.

“Thank you, Coran,” she says.

Coran smiles and squeezes her hand. “It isn’t a problem, Princess.”

Chapter Text

Not that long after Allura gets over the worst of her Balmeran Influenza, Coran notices that his throat seems sore. Seriously hoping that he is just imagining things, he takes one of the vitamins he made sure Allura took when she was ill and hopes the sore throat will go away. Because the last thing they need right now is for him to be ill.

Coran goes about his routine as usual, trying to ignore his sore throat and what he hopes isn’t a congested nose, as though carrying on like normal might make the symptoms go away. Of course, that is a very silly thing to think – especially considering how, if anything, the symptoms start to get worse.

When he goes to bed that night, Coran feels weak and drained as he gets into bed. His muscles tremble even though he hasn’t overexerted himself recently, and he screws his eyes up to stop his head aching. Basically, he feels pretty awful.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep. And when he does, his dreams are confusing and fitful, making no sense and often outright scaring him. And when he awakes, his clothes stick to his body with sweat and he is shivering violently. Coran groans and covers his head with the pillow.

But he can’t seem to fall asleep again. So despite it being the middle of the night, Coran gets up and heads to the medical bay. He walks slowly through the Castle, his legs wobbling slightly and basically feeling rather off-centre. It takes him a long time to reach the medical bay, and even longer to locate what he is looking for.

Eventually, Coran collects the medication he gave Allura back when she was sick and heads back to his room. He wraps himself up with blankets and takes the pills, and then lies down under the blankets. His teeth start to chatter together and Coran groans, wrapping his blankets tighter around him.

When he finally falls asleep, it is nearly morning and Coran can’t stop shivering.

---

In the morning, he awakes with a jolt. He yawns and rolls over, his nose completely congested and running in a disgusting fashion. And then Coran spots it: a fresh glass of water sits next to his bed. And, according to the clock, it is later than when he usually gets up. He has overslept! How did he sleep through his alarm? And why did none of the Paladins wake him?

And then there is a knock on his bedroom door.

“Coran?”

It is Keith.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes, you can,” Coran calls, his voice thick and shaking.

The door slides open and Keith walks into the room, carrying a tray and smiling.

“You’re finally awake, then?” Keith says, putting down the tray and sitting on the end of his bed.

Coran props himself up on his elbows and looks at Keith. “Why did I oversleep?”

Keith smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, that was Allura. She turned off your alarm.”

“What?!”

“She said you needed a rest,” Keith says. He looks at the clock. “And she was right.”

Coran pulls a face, but he doesn’t say anything.

Keith picks up the glass of water and drops a dissolvable tablet into it. It fizzes and starts to turn the water a pretty shade of pink. He holds it out to Coran, saying, “Here, have some of this. Lance said it helped him loads when you gave it to him when he was sick.”

Coran smiles gratefully and takes the glass in his trembling hand. It smells of Juniberries; it must be a rehydration drink.

“Where… where is everyone?” he asks, taking a sip.

“They all went out,” Keith explains, placing another box of tissues on Coran’s bed.

“Out?”

“You know, to do the Show of Arms for the next planet in this solar system. And Shiro really wanted to pilot the Black Lion and I don’t like doing these anyway, so I said I’d stay here while they went.”

Coran sits up too quickly and dizziness flows through him. He groans. “Why did no one wake me up? I’m supposed to be there when…”

Coran cuts himself off with a cough, screwing his eyes up as he coughs into a tissue. He grimaces, feeling a bit nauseous. When he opens his eyes, Keith is giving him a strange look.

“I think you just proved our point,” Keith says, smiling slightly.

Coran wipes his eyes, wishing they would stop watering. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Number Four.”

Keith sighs. “You’re sick, Coran. You need to rest. So we decided to just let you sleep and sort everything out by ourselves.”

Coran wants to berate them all for being so irresponsible, but he can’t bring himself to. He just feels so ill. And he’s grateful that his team want to take care of him.

“Thank you, Number Four,” he says.

Keith smiles. “Not a problem.”

The smile leaves his face, and Keith looks rather uncomfortable. He clears his throat awkwardly and adds, “Um, Allura asked me to give you a hug on her behalf. I’m not very good at hugs, but would you like one?”

Coran looks at the Paladin and smiles. “If you don’t mind.”

And Keith looks a bit reluctant, but he shuffles closer and puts his arms around him. It isn’t a very long hug, and soon Keith pulls away, getting to his feet.

“I hope you feel better soon, Coran,” he says.

Coran grins. “Thank you.”