Chapter Text
"You should not attempt to go out tonight Master Bruce,” Alfred said putting his hand over his charge’s forehead. “You seem to be running a fever”
“It's just a cold Alfred” Bruce coughed into his arm “I’ll be fine” Alfred rolled his eyes.
“Are you losing your touch Batsy?” The Joker teased hitting Bruce again “Or are you coming down with something? The Bat Flu perhaps?” Bruce coughed and swung at him, there were two Jokers now. “Missed meeee!” he laughed.
“Just give it up Joker” Batman panted, his limbs were getting heavier and heavier.“Hmm nope! Don't think I will” He swung again backing Batman onto the edge of the roof. “Hopefully you can fly, Bats!” with one kick Bruce was flying off the edge.
Superman didn’t make it a practice to fly over Gotham, but occasionally he did, just in case one of Bruce’s kids needed some assistance. Not because he wanted to, by chance, run into the Dark Knight, no, definitely not. Tonight was one of those nights, he took a few minutes out of his schedule to fly over Gotham, he heard that familiar laugh and flew closer to see what was what. His stomach dropped as he watched Bruce plummet off of a skyscraper. Wasting no time he flew down as fast as he dared and caught him. He could feel Bruce’s heartbeat, too fast, hear his breathing rattling in his lungs. Bruce groaned looking up at him.
“What are you doing here” he grumbled before falling into a coughing fit and falling unconscious.
“Saving your butt it looks like,” Superman said to his friend, his lover. They touched down in a dark alley where Bruce had left his car, Superman took off his cape, wrapping it around the Batman before placing him gently in the back seat.
“Home early then Master B- ah, Mr. Kent, what a surprise” Alfred raised his eyebrow at Superman.
“Sorry about this Alfred,” Clark said sheepishly “he fell off a skyscraper”
“And I see you swooped in to save the fair maiden as usual.” Alfred picked up the phone, “I shall call Dr. Tompkins then, would you mind getting our caped crusader to bed?”
“Not at all Alfred,” Superman picked him up and he was gone.
“It's pneumonia alright,” Dr. Tompkins said packing up her bag “luckily it's not too bad, I’ll call in an antibiotic to the pharmacy, keep him in bed, if it gets worse call me.” Alfred nodded and showed her out. Clark looked down at him, he looked so fragile like this, sweat beaded his forehead, he was so pale he was almost grey.
“Clark….” he groaned
“I’m here Bruce,” Clark said, putting a hand on Bruce’s feverish cheek.
“I...what happened?” He began to cough again, Clark helped him sit up and put a strong hand on his back.
“You went out on patrol with pneumonia, you got caught in a fight with the Joker, he pushed you off a building, I rescued you.” He hoped Bruce’s fever would keep him from wondering why he was in Gothman in time to rescue him.
“And the Joker?”
“I don’t know,” Clark said.``I was a little occupied” Bruce swung his legs off the edge of the bed and stood, his head spun, he felt all of his bones turn to lead, he gripped the bedframe.
“I have to go g-”
“No, you do not.” Clark said catching him right before he fell “the Batman is taking a break for a while, you may be extraordinary Bruce, but you are human."
“I took the liberty of calling in Master Jason” Alfred came in with a covered tray, “he should be able to handle being the Batman until you get back on your feet,” Bruce grumbled protests as Clark gently put him back in his large bed.
“Why not Dick?” Clark asked, he knew that on occasion Nightwing took over as Batman.
“Because, Mr. Kent, the criminals can always tell when it is Master Dick. If Master Jason takes over, it simply looks as if Batman is having a rather bad day.” Alfred uncovered the tray, it had a glass of water, two pills, and a bowl of chicken soup.
“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said, resigned to his fate of being coddled by his lover and his butler. Clark wasn’t quite sure if the color that had appeared on his cheeks was from the fever or embarrassment. Once Alfred left, superman changed into the clothes he kept at the manor.
“It's not all bad Bruce,” He said making himself comfortable “you needed a break anyway, I can even call into work, I’m sure they won't mind” Bruce broke into another coughing fit, his chest burned, every inch of his body screamed for long seconds. Once it was over, Bruce lay back on his pillows, breathing heavily. Clark wiped off his forehead before handing him the glass of water and the pills Alfred had brought.
“I feel sick and weak, I feel useless” Bruce looked up at Clark, tears streaming down his face “it frightens me, Kal.” In all the years they had known each other, loved each other, Clark Kent had never seen Bruce Wayne cry.
“Oh sweetheart,” Clark said, wrapping his arms around Bruce who quietly cried into his shoulder. “Hush, it's alright.”
“I’ll get you sick” Bruce sniffled.
“I’m pretty sure that's physically impossible” He laid there for long minutes, holding Bruce close. He could feel how hot his body temperature was, hear the sickening rattle in Bruce’s lungs.
“It hurts,” Bruce said quietly.
“I know,” Clark stroked Bruce’s soft black hair, “I know my love.”