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To be completely fair to him, Tim had expected the pain to be passing. It usually was. He could usually ignore it and carry on as usual.
Not today, though.
Tim curled around himself, arms wrapped around his core and face practically shoved into the couch cushions.
He knew he could just… take something, sure. But. He also couldn't. The only thing he could even stand the thought of was water. Even the idea of coffee made him feel… green. Nauseous. The idea of taking Excedrin on an empty stomach was, likewise, out of the question. Let alone trying to put something in his stomach so that he could take Excedrin without risking a worse stomach ache. Or, rather, a stomach ache on top of the abdominal pains.
He could go home. But that would require things like walking and making decisions, both of which he preferred not doing for as long as possible.
The Team was returning from their outing, which Tim had passed on with the expectation of getting some work done for B. Instead, he'd managed about half a report before he began to feel the pain really take hold, followed by the equally inconvenient nausea. He wasn't even out to any of them . Not as gay and not as trans. Nor did he particularly feel like coming out.
But then again… Midol or some shit would be really nice. That helped with the nausea too, right?
“Oh, Robin,” Dick stopped at the back of the couch and leaned over to touch Tim's shoulder. He probably thought Tim was asleep. Tim hoped that Dick thought he was asleep, anyway.
Tim offered an unholy cross between a grunt and a moan.
“Robin?” Dick said, softer.
Tim shook his head against the couch cushions halfheartedly. His jaw was clenched as his nausea decided to rear up, threatening to become something else entirely. His mouth was bitter and his stomach threatened rebellion. Not that Tim had eaten. The attempts of stomach rebellion couldn't get very far with Tim's empty stomach, could they?
And Tim wasn't out to Dick either, come to think of it. Just B, Alfred, and Steph. And only B because there hadn't actually been another adult around when Tim's underfed, over-caffeinated ass went through a decidedly late puberty.
God, Tim didn't want to think about that train wreck of a conversation. Or situation.
“Tim?” Dick said, more softly still.
“Mm… mmhm ,” Tim managed.
“ Should I call B? Or Leslie?” Dick asked. Tim could just hear the worried frown in his voice. And, right, Leslie knew, too. She was the only doctor Tim felt safe enough with to talk… about any of that.
“Mm-mm,” Tim opened a glaring eye. He couldn't look too long, though. The light didn't help, for one, and Dick looked like a kicked puppy. Fuck. “No,” he grit out, albeit through his clenched teeth. He buried his face back into the depths of the cushions and made a small whimper as a new wave of sharp, nigh unbearable pain rolled over him.
Tim could feel the fear radiating off of Dick.
“What's going on?” That was Conner. Great.
Tim had really hoped that Dick's concern wouldn't be catching. It was too much too hope for, apparently. He could hear the whole damn Team shuffling closer, a bunch of them radiating concern. And did he feel a prodding at the edge of his mind?
“ No,” he told the couch cushions. It was clear enough to the mind reader what he meant, thankfully, but it only upped the level of concern that he could feel coming from Dick. What a nightmare.
“I don't know,” Dick mumbled to Conner. He was probably keenly aware of his own infraction of the unbreakable secret identity rule and the fact of Conner's super-hearing. It was actually somewhat gratifying to Tim that Dick seemed to care more about Tim's apparent illness than the breaking of B's most sacred rule.
“Rob?” Conner leaned over the back of the couch, too.
Tim made himself into a tighter ball and rode out another wave of pain. A tiny part of his mind whispered to him that dehydration exacerbated cramps, that some water would probably help. Most of his mind was occupied with either screaming about being in pain or worrying about being taken off patrol.
“Yeah,” Tim ground out. “That's me. Rob.”
A third nosy teammate stood to Dick's other side and just. Looked at him. He hated it.
“What's wrong, kiddo?” Dick asked.
“ Mmf ,” was Tim's eloquent, nauseous reply.
“Ah.” So the third was local pack mom Kaldur . That made sense. The three mom friends combining forces to become the ultimate force in worrying and caring about people, even when those people didn't want to be either worried or cared over.
Kaldur disappeared, though. Which left only the other two satellites, hovering.
“Jus. S'fine ,” Tim said. “'M fine.”
“Hate to disagree with you, but you really don't look fine,” Dick said. His voice was so soft and warm. It was nice. But it would have been nicer at literally any other time. Any other time at all.
Conner was just hovering silently, confused and unsure of what he could do.
Then Kaldur was back, but this time on the other side of the couch. He very gently pulled Tim's arms from around his middle, pushed his knees just a bit away from his core, then slotted the most deliciously warm hot water bottle in between Tim and the back of the couch. Tim latched onto the bottle and pushed it against the source of his misery, curling back up around it.
“Robin,” Kaldur said, stern. “Have you taken anything?”
Tim shook his head against the couch.
“Taken…!” Dick sounded alarmed.
Kaldur , bless him, ignored Dick. “Have you eaten anything? Drank anything?”
“Can't,” Tim muttered. It was plain to see that the jig was up, for Kaldur at least. Tim swallowed his embarrassment and fear, at least for the moment.
“Can't,” Kaldur echoed, and the contraction sounded all wrong coming from him.
“Mmmm,” Tim opened his eye again and looked from Dick to Conner to, finally, Kaldur . “I, uh. It's a lot,” he admitted. “And I didn't expect it to be. I was… unprepared.”
Kaldur gave a slow nod. “If I secure medication, will you take it?”
The embarrassment surged up, full force. Tim had half a mind to refuse. To stick it out and… what? Prove that he could? It was stupid. He gave a return nod, albeit one which felt wilted and withdrawn. He felt naked before Kaldur . He could only hope that Kaldur wouldn't be one to share the new information around.
It wasn't that Tim thought Kaldur was a gossip or anything. It was more that he worried that Kaldur wouldn't realize that Tim had kept this so close to his chest, so secret, even from those he called family. Like the still-hovering Dick. Or like his best friend, who was also continuously hovering at the back of the couch. Probably literally hovering, at that point.
“Good. Conner, retrieve a glass of water for Robin. Nightwing , perhaps you should help him to his room. ” Tim was relieved when Kaldur shifted his gaze away . But only until he processed the commands Kaldur had given.
He jerked up into a sitting position, in spite of the protests of his stomach. “I don't need help,” he said, panicked.
Kaldur gave him a look that rivaled B's. “ Robin,” he said. “You are to rest and rehydrate. I am sure you will be back to duty within the hour, or so, should you do as I have said. I will personally see to the acquisition of medication. Do you require any supplies?”
Tim went very red.
From the “oh!” in the background, Tim figured that at least one female teammate had caught on. Artemis, it sounded like.
Tim felt nauseous for an entirely different reason, all of a sudden. He also felt like crying, though whether that was due to the situation or to his condition, he couldn't really tell. Probably both, as pas t experience had suggested to him.
“I'm good,” he managed. Then he stood, hot water bottle still clutched to him. “I can go to my room myself. And I don't need anything. I just. I probably just need a nap.”
“ Hey.” Dick had that soothing voice on, the one he employed when he wanted to comfort someone but wasn't entirely sure what was happening. “Hey, dude. Everything is fine. Yeah?”
He was wrong, but Tim appreciated the gesture.
A cold glass of water was put into Tim’s hand. After delivering the glass, Conner hovered a t Tim's shoulder. His concern was growing oppressive. But that was probably just the feeling of walls closing in talking. Tim offered him the tiniest smile in thanks.
The day clearly couldn't get worse, though, so Tim shuffled off to his room and waited for the Midol, or whatever, to be delivered by Kaldur , whose fastidious attention to everyone on the Team had never before felt so overbearing and unwelcome to Tim.
--
A brief knock preceded Dick abusing his authority to override Tim's passcode into his room. “Hey, how are you?”
The past hour or so had done wonders, though Tim was far from “cured” of his dilemma. Tim g ave a noncommittal noise and waited for Dick to get to the point. He could feel that it wasn't going to be something he liked.
“So, uh,” Dick shuffled over, door sliding closed behind him. “I was worried, earlier, and I know you didn't want me to call Dr. T h ompkins , but… you know.”
Tim allowed his frown to deepen. He didn't say anything, though. People like Dick couldn't stand silences in conversation. To get more out of Dick, it was always best to just wait him out and say as little as possible.
“ I called B Instead.”
Tim felt his plan to out the window. “Fuck.” His voice was already watery, even though Dick had n't said he'd found out or anything. Tim could just feel it. He knew.
Dick immediately was at his side and wrapping him into a hug. “Oh, kiddo. I'm sorry. I was worried and wouldn't leave it be, even when B told me t o, so he told me. And I know it's not what you wanted but I figured you'd want… well, you had a right to know that I knew.”
Tim curled into Dick. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“Baby Bro, nothing has changed. Nothing at all,” Dick rubbed up and down his spine. “You’re my little brother. My Timmy. And a silly little thing like birth-assigned gender wouldn't change that, ever. You’re my brother , Timmy.”
“No, it messes everything up,” Tim muttered viciously.
“Lil Man,” Dick tutted, “I’m sorry I was nosy, but I'm gonna have to take offense of you think it changes anything. All it changes is that I'm not worried you're dying, anymore. And I know that water and painkillers are an appropriate response to a rolled up Tim on the couch. As opposed to fears of illness or imminent death.”
Tim g ave a watery snort. He wanted to believe Dick, but it was so hard. He felt helpless when his secret dangled out there like that. What if Dick slipped up? What if he shared it because someone else was worried about Tim? What if, heaven forbid, he gossiped about it?
Dick pulled Tim into his lap, shushing Tim even though he hadn't said anything. “You're thinking way too much, man.”
And that was another thing. Tim was suddenly aware of every gendered word that passed Dick's lips. It wasn't like he hated all the masculine diminutives, but he was starting to wonder how forced they were. Nevermind that Dick used them all the time, anyway. Tim was just… so over everything. And yet, he was also inherently paranoid about everything, too.
But. It was nice.
It was nice to be called “bro” and “man” and every variation thereof. He never wanted it to stop.
Dick continued to rub his back . “Tim. You’re not any less you just because I know more about your situation. You're no less of a man, either. I can tell you right now that there's not a soul in our family, our team, that would say otherwise. And, like, you don't have to tell anyone you don't want to, I'm not saying you should, either. I just want you to know that you're loved and accepted and a damn good man and that you have no need to worry what the Team or anything might think. You're safe.”
Tim sniffled a bit, but felt hopeful in spite of himself. And calmer, besides. “You really can't let any silences linger,” he teased. It was the best he could do. He couldn't even pull back to look his brother in the eye.
“You're welcome.” It was good, then, that Dick was a t least partially fluent in Stunted Emotions and could hear the thanks in Tim's weak tease. He gave Tim a final squeeze. “Conner wants to see if you're okay, too. I can tell him to wait on it, though, if you'd rather not deal with more people right now.”
Tim pulled some of his weight from Dick's side, finally, and wiped his nose on the back of his wrist, sniffling again. “Uh, it's fine,” he said. He didn't know if it was actually fine, and his emotions were a fucking wreck, but part of him knew that Conner was…
Conner could make him smile. Conner knew how to do that and Tim felt like he could use a bit of that warmth and kindness. Especially after wringing himself out over Dick finding out about. Everything.
“You sure?”
Tim nodded. “I’ll leave the dramatics to you for a bit,” he gave a small smile. “ They're exhausting.”
“A good cry isn't dramatics, Timbo . It's good for the soul.” Dick gave his back a solid pat and stood. “ Trust me, man. Crying can be, like, a scrub for the soul and all the little excess emotionality that can get stu ck up in there.”
Tim rolled his eyes.
“Oh, and hey, snatch that clone up before someone else manages it, kid. He's got heart eyes for you, sure, and he'd probably fall over himself to do anything you asked, but it's not nice leaving a poor guy in limbo so long.”
Tim's eyes snapped up to meet Dick's.
“Too much for one day?” Dick asked.
“ Mmhm ,” Tim managed.
“Well fine, but I'm gonna pester you on that one later, man.”