Work Text:
‘I spy with my little eye…’
‘No!’
‘Stop!’
Wing!’
Multiple voices groaned their protest over the comms. A grin spread over Dick’s face.
‘But I’m bored!’ He made sure to pitch his voice as annoying as possible.
‘Fuck’s sake, man!’ It was probably a good thing that he couldn’t see Jay’s face or he’d have started giggling. ‘Are you a toddler or what? Do you need a fucking lolli to keep you occupied?’
His grin grew.
‘Hood! Don’t give him ideas!’ Tim’s reply was instantaneous.
‘But I like lollis, RR! Hood, can I have a lolli? Pretty please?’
‘Seriously?!’ The voice modulation did little to hide the exasperated amusement in his brother’s voice.
‘Tt! Nightwing isn’t a child. He doesn’t require such juvenile nonsense.’
The acrobat gasped ‘But I want one!” at the same time that Jay snorted ‘Yea, he sucks without one already.’
‘Ey!’
Dick turned his head towards the Red Hood’s silhouette two roofs over receiving a mocking little wave while Red Robin on the fire escape across the street had his head in his hands in an exaggerated head shake. Robin wasn’t visible from his position, but his disapproval was obvious in his loud silence.
Over the comms Spoiler’s voice entered the conversation. ‘Don’t get him started again, Hood! I swear, any more puns and my brain’s gonna melt and leak from my ears. Which, gross! Also, if anyone’s earned candy tonight, it’s gotta be me and BB, you slackers.’
‘We are gathering important information to further progress Batman’s case in his absence, while you gallivant across the city’, Robin’s reply carried the certain haughtiness that spoke of his amusement. ‘As such any reward should fall to us.’
Chuckling under his breath at the ensuing bickering, Dick shifted on his perch overlooking the condemned apartment block he and his brothers had been staking out for hours. Batman had received intel of an extremist group gathering in and around Gotham. He’d been in the midst of gathering information about their plans and means, when the CEO of WE’s Tokyo branch was arrested on multiple serious charges. As such, the family re-organized quickly to allow for Bruce Wayne to personally oversee the internal investigation across the globe. Nightwing volunteered to take over the case hoping to spend some quality time with his family. His siblings seemed to share the thought, joining his stakeouts whenever one or more of them had time to spare.
This in turn lead to four vigilantes watching a derelict abandoned building on the outskirts of Gotham proper. It wasn’t the most exciting experience. After groaning and heckling through two nights of fun banter, his siblings had forcefully banned Dick from making any more puns tonight.
Which he’d adhered to. Begrudgingly. Mostly.
Still, the stakeout was mind numbing, their targets only occasionally showing movement, but nothing of interest happening. Spoiler, Black Bat and Batwoman were patrolling the city and kept busy, so any banter on comms would inevitably wind down quickly.
Robin and Red Robin eventually left to help out with a gang shootout in midtown and headed back to the Cave afterwards, while Nightwing and Red Hood kept watch.
‘Hey Hood?’
A sigh crackled over the line.
‘What do you call an everyday potato?’
‘Fuck you, Dickface. You promised.’
Hunched on his ledge, Dick let his head thunk back against the brick. ‘You heathens just can’t appreciate true artistic genius’, he grumbled. ‘The answer is ‘a commentator’. Get it?’
‘Methink’st thou art a general offense and every man should beat thee.’
He snorted. ‘Ouch, Little Wing. That hurts.’ Thinking for a moment, he added ‘what play is that from?’
‘All’s Well That Ends Well. Heathen.’ A slight rustle came across the comms. ‘It’s too late for this shit. Or early. Fuck. They’re not gonna give us anything. Probably sleeping while our asses go numb out here. I’m out.’
Dick sighed. ‘Yeah. Let’s call it a night.’ He pushed to his feet with a groan. Sunrise was only another hour away. Everyone else had already headed back. ‘Need a Ride, Little Wing?’
‘Nah, my bike’s close by. I’ll come by the Cave ‘fore patrol.’
Right. Meaning Red Hood was going to do a quick check of his usual patrol routes before heading in. Jay always got antsy when he couldn’t watch over his turf personally for a while.
‘You crashing in the Manor, Wing?’
He’d been planning to. But with sunrise around the corner and his stiff body protesting three nights spent crouched on a chilly rooftop, the idea of crossing the entire city only to come all the way back next night didn’t sound as appealing as he’d thought. Damian would be in school by the time Dick would brave the waking world again and Tim was busy standing in for Bruce at WE. So he’d not even get to spend much time with his brothers if he trudged back now.
‘Nope. I think I’ll just head to the safe house over by that little French cafe.’
There was a long moment of silence from Hood during which Dick started trotting across the roof he’d spend the last few hours on, stretching his muscles carefully.
‘What cafe?’
He huffed, cracking his neck while eying the gap to the next building.
‘That little French place. You know the one. We crashed there that one time after chasing Clayface cross town all night. I got us croissants for breakfast.’
‘That was ages ago! That safe house still up?’
‘Yea.’ He took a running leap and relished in the relief of finally moving. ‘It’s so far out of the way, there was never a reason to burn it.’
‘Right. See ya tonight then, I guess.’
‘For another riveting night of extremist watching!’ The acrobat smiled at the answering huff. ‘Take care, Little Wing. I’ll see you tonight.’
The rest of the thankfully short trip went smoothly. And if Nightwing added an extra flip here and there, no one was around to call him out on that.
The safe house was ancient. It was on the top floor of a dilapidated apartment block in what the city council had once optimistically declared to be Gotham’s future artist district. Now it was worn-down. While the area had nothing on the Narrows or even most parts of Downtown, the buildings here seemed as droopy and weighed-down as their residents.
Still, it was close by, it had a bed and a working shower. That was everything Dick wanted right now. And if the bed smelled musty and the pipes groaned after years of disuse, he was exhausted. Besides, it was only for one night. Or rather morning. He’d be fine.
———————————————
‘…so going by purchases and with Hood’s intel, we’ve narrowed the list of potential targets down to three.’
The bluish glow of the Batcomputer cast Dick’s tan skin in a sickly shade. Tim was going over his gear before patrol, carefully observing his older brother reporting to Bruce. Something felt off about the older man. He seemed unwell, but had brushed off any inquiries.
After more than a week of dedicated work, nightly stakeouts and a breakthrough in the form of Jason’s information network spitting out details, they were finally closing in on their targets. All that was left to do was collecting them and dropping them off with GCPD.
‘So the plan is to split -‘ A harsh cough interrupted his musings. Tim’s eyes snapped up in time to see Dick hunch over slightly, gripping the table’s edge out of view of the computer’s main camera. On screen Bruce’s gaze sharpened.
‘You alright, chum?’
‘Yea’, his voice was breathy in a way that send a sliver of worry through Tim. Turning fully, he focused in on his brother with a frown.
Dick cleared his throat and straightened. But the younger man could see his hand tightening on the table’s edge.
Looking closer, more details registered, inching his worry up notch by notch. Dick usually gesticulated while talking, always shifting and moving in place. Now he stood still, almost as if he had to restrain himself from leaning against the desk or sinking into the chair. His usually stylishly disheveled hair looked limp and unkempt. And it wasn’t purely the light from the monitors that gave his skin a sickly sheen. His usual tan was a few shades paler than it should be.
While Dick semi-successfully distracted their dad with case work, Tim blindly grabbed his phone and pulled up the contact list.
T.W.: Big Bird is sick
Red Jerk: sick?
Red Jerk: he catch cooties?
T.W.: dunno
T.W.: paler than usual. Coughing.
T.W.: he’s not fidgeting.
Red Jerk: right.
Red Jerk: Goldie’s sick.
T.W.: approach?
Red Jerk: [thumbs up]
Red Jerk: coming over
Red Jerk: observe and detain. ETA 20 min
With a sigh Tim turned back towards his big brother only to feel his chest tighten further. If he hadn’t suspected already that something was up, he’d have started now. And judging from the sharp frown on Bruce’s face, their dad had clocked it, too.
Dick, their hyperactive acrobat, the guy who liked to give reports from up in the training equipment while swinging back and forth, had pulled over the desk chair and seemed in the process of merging with the seat.
His voice had gained a breathless quality, the words coming slower than before.
Officially concerned now Tim made his way over, keeping to the back of his brother in an attempt to sneak up on the older man. In any other, normal case, Dick would have clocked his movement the second he stepped away from his equipment check. That he obviously hadn’t, added another worrying point to the tally.
Bruce on screen flicked his gaze to his younger son, the lines on his face sharpening further.
Clenching his teeth, Tim quickly stuck his hand to his brother’s forehead making the older flinch and jerk away. Distantly Tim noticed that if not for the desk chair his big brother wouldn’t have been able to keep his balance. But his main focus was taken up by mentally employing every swear word he’d ever caught from Jason and his friends.
‘You’re burning up!’
From the screen he faintly heard a sharp intake of breath.
Dick was clutching the sides of the chair in a white-knuckled grip, eyes clenched shut and another shade paler. Tim added dizziness to his growing list of symptoms.
‘I’m-‘
‘Sick, Dick! You’re sick.’
Blue eyes opened to meet the younger’s gaze.
‘It wasn’t this bad. I-‘ Another harsh cough interrupted whatever his idiot brother had been about to say. This one seemed worse than before. It left the other man gasping.
‘Right. I’m taking you to the med bay.’
‘I’ve already texted Alfred.’ Bruce voice was tightly controlled belying his own worry for his eldest.
‘That’s not’, a pause to clear his throat. ‘Not necessary. Probably just the flu.’ Another pause, this one clearly fighting another cough. ‘m fine.’
‘Chum.’
Tim winced, knowing that tone of voice. He wisely positioned himself so Bruce could stare down his brother and he’d be able to grab and drag him right away.
‘B, really.’
‘Chum.’ The eyebrow of judgment joined the voice.
‘But the case, B. I can-‘
‘Rest while your highly capable siblings take care of things.’
‘But-‘
‘Richard John Grayson.’ And there was the full name. Tim took his cue, noting how his brother winced and seemed to shrink further into the chair.
‘Come on. You don’t want Alfred to catch you arguing about this, right?’ Without waiting for a reply, Tim tugged the older man out of his slouch and began maneuvering him towards the med bay. Throwing a glimpse back at their father, Bruce gave him a tight nod, worry written into his stony features.
Tim offered a grim nod back, promising wordlessly to take care of his brother.
————————————————————
The first thing he noticed after parking his bike next to Dick’s was rough coughing interspersed with quiet voices coming from the med bay.
Chucking his helmet onto a cluttered work bench, Jason let his eyes roam through the cave. The Batcomputer was on, the monitor showing a notification that a video call had ended 12 minutes ago. Tim’s Red Robin gadgets were left out on a nearby table, partially sorted into some kind of order, some left in a pile.
No angry gremlin child was glowering at him, so the demon brat was already out helping Steph with her arms dealer thing. That was something at least. The kid would freak once back, but for now they wouldn’t have to work around the scowly stabby menace.
He slowly made his way towards the conversation and their invalid. Listening closely he could pick out Tim saying something about lying down, followed by Alfred’s crisp ‘Master Richard, now if you please.’
Alfie sounded tense. Jason felt his hand clench into a fist.
It was always like this. Everyone in their madhouse of a family went nuts whenever one of the flock went down. For the longest time since his return, Jason had adamantly refused to be included in the process. He hadn’t cared after all. Of course he hadn’t. Not even a little bit.
He huffed. Lies. Family, even their dysfunctional mess, had a way of worming passed indifference. And his big brother was the worst.
Consequently it was always worst whenever their Big Bird was downed.
As such, he took a fortifying breath before joining the huddle in the med bay, taking in the scene with a glance.
Dick looked like shit. His skin was pale, a sheen of sweat gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. He sat hunched on the edge of the cot, hands gripping the mattress at his sides, muscles straining. The usually bright blue gaze seemed dull, not quite focused and surrounded by stress lines and dark eye bags. But what stood out most to Jason was the way his ribs shuddered with labored breaths.
Something was deeply wrong.
Sick was one thing. Everyone got sick from time to time. It sucked. You got to be a whiny bitch for a week, eat Alfred’s chicken broth and annoy everyone without retribution.
This wasn’t just sick. This was more.
The sharp lines on Alfred’s usually stoic face confirmed his fear. The old butler met his assessing gaze, inclining his head a notch towards the cot.
‘Dickface.’
Tim, who’d been fidgeting at their brother’s side in a poor attempt to hover not quite as much, sent him a look that carried both fearful worry and relief at getting reinforcement.
The time it took for glazed blue to rise up and the faint ‘Jay’ made something in his gut clench.
‘Replacement mentioned you seemed a bit under the weather.’ Out of the corner of his eyes Jason noticed Tim wince. Good. He didn’t appreciate the younger not mentioning the severity of the situation in his text.
‘Hey, Jay. He’s been getting worse fast.’ The sorry was clear in the kid’s words and Jason nodded sharply, not looking away from the ailing bird on the cot.
‘Wasn’t bad earlier’, the voice was subdued, words slow and mumbled. ‘Thought- thought meds wou’ help. ‘d be f-fine.’ The harsh wet cough that followed made Jason wince.
He looked to Alfred who was visibly frowning.
‘It appears, Master Richard, that whatever medication you took, the effect has diminished.’ With experienced movements he used the lull of Dick fighting back the coughing fit to insert an i.v. and ready the oxygen mask.
‘I have already taken samples to be analyzed. Now, Master Richard, I advise you to settle in and take this mask. I’ve prepared a general antibiotics and anti inflammatory infusion until we know what we’re dealing with here.’
Tim had perked up at the mention of analyzing samples and at a glimpse from the butler he hurried to the lab. Great. Jason had the feeling they needed to move quickly here.
He moved closer to the cot, carefully settling a hand on his brother’s back. The heat coming off the shivering form sent a jolt through his chest.
‘Big Bird? You hear what Alfie’s said.’ He took the oxygen mask and held it up to Dick’s face. ‘Come on, Goldie. This’ll help.’
Blue eyes meet his own teal, a shaky nod being offered.
‘Great, here. We’ll-‘
Yet another coughing fit tore through the other man. Jason rubbed his back, trying hard not to show how deeply unsettling it was to feel his brothers rib cage shudder under his touch. Short wheezing gasps interrupted the fit. But it didn’t show any sign of slowing down.
This was taking too long. He tried to carefully adjust Dick’s posture to help him breathe, gathering the trembling form against his side.
The glimpse of a bluish tint to his brother’s lips sent a fissure of panic through his heart.
Helplessly seeking out Alfred’s gaze, he watched the man inject something into the I.v.
The effect wasn’t instantaneous, though. For what felt like eons, all Jason could do was hold the gasping shuddering form of his older brother, whispering mindless encouragement and pleas into sweat-soaked hair. Distantly he recognized the hand settling next to his own, the soothing calm of a familiar British voice joining his quiet mumbling.
Then, slowly, haltingly the time between the torturous coughs grew in length. The stuttering wheezing gasps between more pronounced.
By the time Dick went limp in his grasp, Jason had fully contorted himself onto the cot, cradling his Big Bird close.
Feeling his brother slump against him, his fingers went up to his pulse before his mind had even registered the movement. The beat under the heated skin was rapid, but strong.
Tightening his hold, his wide-eyed gaze snapped to an unusually ruffled looking Alfred.
‘Alf’, his own voice sounded foreign to him. ‘What the fuck is going on?’
——————————————
The atmosphere in the cave was tense. Brown had accompanied him back as soon as they realized that no other Bats were joining them out on patrol. They had known something had to have happened. They had not anticipated this though.
When they had arrived, Drake had been a jittery mess in the lab, while Pennyworth had met them and pointed them towards the medical bay. He had looked older than usual.
The sight that had greeted them in the medical area would stay with him, Damian knew. Grayson’s sleeping (unconscious, his mind had whispered) body cradled by a pale Todd. Reclined into a mountain of pillows, upper body elevated. The wheezing quality of Grayson’s breath had been audible across the room through the oxygen mask and the beeping of the monitor next to the bed.
The report he had demanded then had not been satisfactory. That Grayson had fallen ill was obvious. The fact that no one had been able to tell him more, that no one had known more was utterly unacceptable.
With the clear incompetence at display, Damian had taken it upon himself to sit vigil over his ailing Batman. Naturally he needed to be close to perform his duty effectively. He needed to be able to notice the slightest change after all.
It had furthermore been pointed out to him on prior occasions that physical contact might positively effect the recovery process.
As such it was only logical for him to press against his older brother’s side. It was only logical to place his ear to the man’s chest. It was logical. He needed to be close. It had nothing to do with any kind of emotion roiling under his skin.
Nothing at all.
So when he felt Todd’s hand card through his hair and settle on his back, he certainly didn’t lean into it. No one would be able to proof otherwise.
———————————————
The voice over the public speaker was warbled and distant as he stared at the screen of his tablet. It was just a scant three hours ago that he had to watch his eldest son sink into the desk chair in the cave, obviously sick and on the other side of the globe.
The remote access to the camera system had not helped. The feeling of desperate helplessness as Jason had held his brother on the cot, the sight of his son struggling to breathe while Bruce was stuck in a luxurious but soulless hotel room hundreds of miles away. It was the worst kind of torture.
The decision to cut the trip short had been an obvious choice. The most relevant points of WE’s investigation were done anyway. Any follow up issues would have to be dealt with remotely. He simply couldn’t stomach the thought of his family suffering with no way for him to help. He had failed in this way too many times already.
The organizing as well as the trip to the airport were a blur.
Now he sat in a secluded lounge waiting for his plane, the tablet in his hands displaying lab results as well as an X-ray image of Dick’s chest. The image showed widespread cloudy shades blocking out the natural lung structure. The lab results matched the finding. Acute pneumonia. Acute bacterial pneumonia. Caused by Legionella pneumophila bacteria.
His son had Legionnaires disease.
Taking a deep breath Bruce forced his grip to relax, forcibly reminding himself that it was a treatable disease, that Alfred had already adjusted the antibiotics accordingly (underlined by the camera view of the med bay open in a side tab) and that Dick was otherwise a healthy young adult. He would be fine. He would be fine.
He would also listen to a detailed presentation on the dangers of using long standing water in disused showers or tubs.
In fact, all his children would receive the presentation.
Regularly. He would have to check if a quarterly reminder would suffice.
Maybe a short test as well to make sure they had understood the pertinent points.
Bruce opened a new file on his tablet and started jotting down notes.
——————————————
Lazy sunlight painted his childhood room in soft warmth. The tightness in his chest had eased and Dick felt his lips tug into a small smile.
He was drained, exhausted in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. His lids were heavy, but the sight around him was worth the effort of keeping his eyes open a moment more.
Bruce had pulled up a chair, his legs on Dick’s bed in a way that his socked feet rested against his calves.
Pressed into Dick’s left side was Dami, his head resting over his heart.
On his right side was Jason, half sitting up with his back against the piled up pillows, an open book in his lap, the fingers of his left hand curled loosely around Dick’s wrist.
Halfway down the bed Tim had apparently settled with a laptop at some point, but ended up sprawled over Dick’s legs with his hands clutching at Dami’s pant legs.
Cass was curled up on the foot of the bed, facing the doorway, her back pressed against Dick’s feet.
On the nightstand a bouquet of lollipops in garish colors was held together by a large purple ribbon next a get well soon card sporting Steph’s messy scrawl.
Surrounded by his sleeping family, Dick felt himself relax further into the pillows, offering a tired but genuine smile to Alfred at the door.
The old butler offered a smile in return. Then he lifted the camera in his hands and Dick felt a laugh bubbling up that would inevitably wake his family up.