#also i still love the broken tea kettle line lmao poor guy
Heyoooo, I haven’t written anything in a hot minute! Here, have some actual husbands Sh/eith! As usual, a big thank you to my dear @vcepsis for beta reading this!
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Keith sighed, biting his bottom lip nervously.
Shiro was asleep on the couch next to him, snoring loudly. He normally didn’t snore that bad, but that monster of a cold had completely messed up his breathing.
Keith stared at his husband pensively, deep lines of worry running across his brow.
Rarely he had seen Shiro so miserable.
Sure, Keith had stayed by his side during a couple of flu bugs that had left his beloved husband completely wiped, but this… this sounded miserable, and Keith was sick and tired of it.
They were three weeks in that awful cold, and it still didn’t show any signs of clearing up.
It had begun as an innocent sore throat and runny nose, that had quickly deteriorated and become an awful head cold, leaving Shiro a sneezy, sniffling mess. He was constantly battling the pain in his sinuses and the annoying buzzing in his ears.
Then, after a few days, Shiro’s cold had decided to take a trip and settle into his chest too, leaving the poor man to deal with an alarming range of rattling and wheezing sounds coming straight from his lungs.
“You sound like a broken tea kettle. I think you should go to the doctor before you drown in your own bodily fluids” Keith had tried to suggest, but Shiro had scoffed, action that had left him in the throes of a vicious, rough coughing fit.
“I’m okay, Keith. Just a cold and a bit of a cough. It’ll go away on its own eventually.”
Keith had tried to argue, but had ended up giving up.
How he wished he had insisted.
They had decided to watch a movie after dinner, a relaxing, domestic evening, but Shiro had fallen asleep during the first half of the movie.
The man looked absolutely spent, and Keith had been happy to see his beloved finally getting some rest. That peace was destined to be short lived.
Shiro was mouth breathing, he did that on good days, due to the massive scar across his nose, but when colds ravaged his sinuses, he was loud. So loud that Keith could barely hear the dialogues of the movie. He gently poked Shiro’s side with a finger, and the man jumped awake, startled.
The air caught into his throat, sending him coughing. Deep, painful rattles shaking his whole being, leaving him breathless.
“That… doesn’t sound good” Keith observed worriedly, as he rubbed Shiro’s back through the fit.
Eventually, Shiro’s lungs stopped spasming, and Keith managed to take a glimpse of his husband, before the latter buried his face into a handful of tissues. He looked absolutely wrecked.
“Do you want me to make you some tea, Kashi?” he offered, trying to help.
Shiro tried to reply, but he only managed a small, hoarse rasp of approval. Man, all the coughing had destroyed his throat.
Keith went to the kitchen, setting the water to boil. He was busy choosing the most fitting tea for Shiro, when a big, beefy blanket wrap trudged through the kitchen, half collapsing on a chair.
Keith clicked his tongue.
“It was not necessary for you to come with me, you know.”
The blanket burrito stayed silent for a few seconds, then sniffled wetly, and a congested voice came from the depths of it.
“…Felt lonely.”
The poor man sounded so sad and miserable, that Keith couldn’t help but feel a pang of deep affection for Shiro. He was just so sweet. He was miserable with that cold, but even then, he was… meek. He had been feeling horrible for weeks, and it showed, but Shiro never complained, never felt sorry for himself. He had just accepted it, trying to make the healing process the least annoying possible, for both of them.
He didn’t want Keith to worry.
And Keith knew it. But Keith also knew that Shiro was feeling awful. They had been married for two years, he always knew when his husband was unwell, no matter how hard Shiro tried to conceal it. His actions spoke for him.
Keith kissed the top of Shiro’s head fondly. Or at least, the point of the blanket burrito where he estimated Shiro’s head was.
“Go lie down, Kashi. I’ll be there in a minute. Why don’t you choose another movie in the meantime? Something fun and easier to watch than this one.”
The blanket burrito nodded, and dragged itself back to the couch, sniffling miserably. A couple of loud sneezes reverberated through the apartment, as Keith brewed the tea, the lovely scent of mint and thyme filling the air.
When Keith brought back two mugs of tea, Shiro had already made his choice.
Keith stared at the tv, reluctantly.
“Coco? But you know that the ending makes you cry.”
“Maybe crying will help me unclog my sinuses for a while. Worth trying.”
Keith chuckled, and settled down on the couch, but then stood up again.
“Ah, we almost forgot. We have to try the new nebulizer treatment they gave you at the doctor’s office today. Hopefully, this one works.”
Shiro groaned.
“Can I do that tomorrow? I’m so tired…”
“No, starlight. You do it now. The sooner you start with it, the sooner you’ll get better. And I want you to get better.”
Shiro looked at Keith from his nest of blankets, defeated.
“Okay. Just because you asked me so nicely. And because you called me… heh…” Shiro let out a throat scraping sneeze, immediately hiding his face beneath a handful of blankets. Ugh, gross. He reached out to the tissue box on the coffee table, swiftly grasping a wad of tissues, and promptly blowing his nose.
Gosh. The more he blew, the more he wanted to blow, even if the skin of his nose was absolutely ruined at this point.
While Shiro busied himself with the tissues, Keith set up the nebulizer.
Shiro gave him puppy eyes, but Keith didn’t fall for it.
“Don’t give me those eyes. You know the drill.”
Shiro coughed deeply into his fist, resigned, before picking up the mouthpiece of the nebulizer and cuddling against Keith’s side, pressing the play button on the remote and switching on the nebulizer at the same time.
“Sometimes, I think I’m cursed. ‘Cause of something that happened before I was even born. See, a long time ago, there was this family. The Papa, he was a musician…”
Shiro relaxed, focusing his full attention on the movie, while the medication worked its magic.
Sometimes, the mist would tickle his lungs just right, sending him into a coughing fit and prompting Keith to gently pound on his back or rub circles on his chest, congestion shifting noticeably under Keith’s hand. He couldn’t help but think that his husband sounded absolutely terrible, and that maybe that was a bit more than just a cold. After several minutes of coughing and sniffling, Shiro’s lungs stopped spasming, the medication finally starting to soothe the itch in his chest and throat.
Slowly, Shiro started to drift off, eyelids heavy with sleep. The hand holding up the mouthpiece started to go limp, dispersing the mist in the air.
Keith chuckled, holding the small plastic tube in place himself.
He focused on the movie, while his fingers slowly brushed through Shiro’s hair.
Keith hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep, but when he woke up again, there was static on the tv screen, and Shiro was still sleeping, still leaning against him.
He smiled, and kissed the top of Shiro’s head. He seemed to be breathing easier.
Keith turned off the tv, and slowly shifted to better accommodate Shiro’s body. He was heavy, but it was a pleasant weight, warm and comforting.
Keith slipped into a comfortable sleep, hugging the man he loved.
He had never felt so safe in his entire life.
