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fake soup

Summary:

Dick Grayson is sick. Thankfully, he has people willing to coddle him.

Notes:

tw: mention of vomit, sliiiiightly graphic description at the beginning.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Dick checked his reflection in the mirror one last time when the bell rang. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face and debating on if he should add just a bit more gel. His light blue shirt was ironed as best as he could. He would get a steamer and be a proper adult one of these days, he swore. The knot of his black tie was simple but properly done, and his slacks fit his legs as if they were custom-made. 

Although he'd put a lot of effort, his face looked like shit. His skin was pale, even for someone who grew up in Gotham, his eyes looked like every single vein had popped, and his lips were cracked like he'd never used lip balm one day in his life. To be fair, he felt like shit, too, partly at least. His stomach was in knots and his throat tingled every time he swallowed, but he could power through it. He wanted to. They were all going to go to a gala Bruce was hosting, everyone, even Jason, and Dick was supposed to go with Barbara as his date. 

They had decided to make their relationship public, too. Not that they'd announce anything, but they wouldn't deny it either if the reporters asked this time. As an added bonus, the vultures would stop trying to get with Dick, even though he could handle them just fine when either one of his siblings was close by. 

Dick opened his door and his jaw nearly touched the floor. Barbara was wearing her hair up in a sleek ponytail, letting all the attention fall on her face. She wore minimal makeup, letting her freckles show through the blush. Her electric green eyes contrasted the brown smoked-out eyeshadow and the red on her lips rivaled that of her hair. A short silver necklace hung around her neck, and a velvet black dress hugged her torso before loosening around her hips, all the way down to the floor.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed.

Her eyebrows creased in a frown. "No."

Dick did a double-take. "But you are."

She walked into the apartment, closing the door behind her. "You too, but you don't look too hot right now, so we're not going."

"Oh c'mon, what do you m-" Dick's eyes widened as a wave of nausea rushed through his body. His hand flew to his mouth as he raced to the bathroom, desperately hoping he would make it. He fumbled with the knob and fell to his knees on the carpeted tile, relief settling into him even as he heaved and retched over the toilet, his nausea getting worse as he saw his half-digested lunch come out of his mouth, his throat hating every second of it. He felt hands on both of his shoulders, thumbs running soothing circles. He waited a little, just in case anything more came up, and closed his eyes when it didn't. 

"I think you're finished for now," Barbara said. She flushed the toilet and cut some paper, one hand angling Dick's face toward her so she could help him clean up. 

Dick hated letting her do it, but he couldn't even get himself to open his eyes. It was as if all his hard work to stay on his feed the whole day went out the window. He blindly searched for the bathtub, then gripped the cold surface in an attempt to stand up on his own. With a sigh, he opened his eyes to see Barbara smiling at him, hands hovering around his waist.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She let out a chuckle. "What for? Being sick?" She took a step to the left, giving him access to the sink, which he used to keep himself standing as she looked around the cabinets. Barbara poured some blue mouth wash in a shot glass that Dick kept there and offered it to him.

"Do I smell that bad?" Dick joked.

"Yes, but also you need to protect your enamel."

Once he was done, they went to the living room, and Dick collapsed on the couch. 

"I'll go get some comfy clothes," Barbara said and returned shortly after. She sat down next to him and threw an arm around his shoulders, her lips pressing a long, loud kiss on his cheek. "Do you need help with these?" she asked and Dick shook his head. Barbara turned her back to him slightly, then looked over her shoulder. "Can you unzip me, then?"

Dick pouted. "You're wasting the outfit because of me."

She raised her eyebrows. "As if I wasn't planning on wearing this for the next five galas at least."

He laughed, and his throat punished him with a cough. He slowly pulled down her zipper, careful not to get it caught in the fabric. Barbara got up when he was done, and let the dress fall down to her feet and Dick's breath hitched.

God, the things we'd do if I wasn't a mess, he thought, and Barbara must have noticed because she smirked and said, "Another time." 

They changed into joggers and T-shirts. Dick zapped through the channels as Barbara put away their fancy clothes, doing his best to ignore the way his stomach was contracting tighter and tighter. 

Barbara returned with blankets and a steaming cup of tea. She wrapped one around him and left the other in the armchair, just in case he felt colder later. Then, she reached for his hands and placed the mug in them.

"You didn't have any chamomile tea but this should help, too. I added two spoons of honey," she said as she settled next to him. "Drink up, and then you can lie down."

Dick took a sip and felt his scratchy throat give in. He knew it would be back to torturous once he was done with the tea, but the relief was refreshing, albeit temporary. He leaned against Barbara's shoulder, and he felt her head lean against his. Even though it was spinning, the gesture offered comfort.

"Babs, I'm a little bit sick" he muttered, earning a scoff. "Are you sure you want my germs?"

Barbara brought him closer to her, snaking her arms around his body. Dick relished the familiar pressure.

"Bring it on." She planted a kiss on top of his head. "I don't mind a few days off work."

Dick took another sip of his tea. "You're sick."

Barbara was silent for a while. "No, you are."

Dick closed his eyes but smiled. "It really took you so long to come up with it?"

Her hand lightly smacked his bicep, then squeezed it. "Drink your tea, Hunk Wonder."

Dick knew he shouldn't, but once it wasn't too hot, he downed it in one go. He laid down, head resting against Barbara's thigh, his arms wrapped around his torso. A sigh of content escaped his lips when she started combing through his hair, the diziness backing away with the way her fingers gently dag into his scalp. 

Barbara reached out to adjust the blanket over him. "Are you okay? Do you want the other one, too?" she whispered. 

"Nah, I'm fine," Dick managed to say. "Thank you, Babs."

"Don't even mention it."

She leaned down and pressed another kiss on cheek, and Dick felt a strange sense of happiness that only came up when he was sick. He knew it didn't make sense, but he didn't hate being in bed when he wasn't alone. Even with his stomach clenching and his throat threatening to go back to scratching if he spoke another word and his brain sending needles to his eyes every time he tried to watch the show on the TV, he didn't hate his current condition. It felt nice being taken care of. He could step away from the world and live in his tiny bubble until it was over, and he couldn't think of a better company than Babs. He let his eyes close as drowsiness came over him.


Dick woke up with a start. Bile rose up in his throat and he barely had time to whisper "trash can", much less than Barbara had to actually bring it. Instead, she grabbed the empty mug and held it out to him, guiding his head above it, as Dick heaved. His sides and throat hurt from the motion, but there wasn't much to come out, seeing as he'd only drank the tea. Tears threatened to run from the corners of his eyes as his stomach did everything to empty itself and the rest of his body disagreed strongly.

But it was over eventually. He let himself collapse back on the couch with a groan, feeling like he'd been run over by a bus and then some. 

A hand rubbed his shoulder soothingly. "You're okay, it's over."

"Everything hurts," Dick said, his voice barely a whisper. 

"I'll get you some Tylenol, but let's go to the bed first, yeah?"

Dick nodded and took Barbara's held out hand. When he stood up, his vision swam, and he gripped her harder. He made it to the bed by some miracle and fell on the sheet, loving how the cool material felt against his hot skin. Soon, Barbara was back with a pill and a glass of water. Dick was careful to only take a small sip this time.

"I'll clean up a little bit and I'll be back, alright?" she said and bent down to place a kiss at the tip of his nose. 

Dick sighed. "'M sorry, Babs."

She gave him a pointed look, but there was a smile on her lips. "You've done the same for me, idiot."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, now try to relax."

Maybe his body listened to her more than him because Dick felt sleepiness come to him sooner than he hoped it would. After finding a comfortable position (face down and one leg pulled to his chest while the other stretched out of the covers), he dozed off again.


He woke up shivering. His clothes clung to his body uncomfortably with sweat, but at least the pain in his stomach had subsidised. 

Barbara was out like a light next to him, her face peaceful as she slept on her arms instead of a pillow. It had to be somewhere on the floor, she always tossed it away in her sleep. 

Dick took a breath. He hated doing this, waking her up when neither of them found enough time to sleep as it was, but he knew she'd kill him if he didn't ask for help when he needed it. 

"Babs?" he whispered. He waited a little bit. "I think I might have a fever."

She reached out blindly for his forehead, eyes still half-closed but jerked open once she touched his skin. "Dick, you're burning up!"

"Only for you, babe," he whispered, and his stomach did another flip when she chuckled. 

Barbara climbed out of the bed and grabbed a clean shirt from the closet before sitting by Dick's side, helping him take of the sweaty one. The cold fabric made him shiver a little more, but it was soothing against his prickly body. 

Barbara cupped his forehead. "Is there any chance you have a thermometer lying around? You'll probably have to take something to lower it but we should monitor it in case it gets worse."

Dick thought about it for a second. "I think I got one when Damian was sick. It's..." he frowned. "I think it's in the first drawer here, let me just..." He opened it and reached for the thermometre, fingers grazing past a tiny velvet box in the process, heart rate spiking up. A victorious "aha!" escaped his mouth when he found it. He put it under his armpit and waited, his eyes never leaving Barbara.

"Why are you looking at me?"

"You're looking at me, I'm looking back at you."

Barbara exaggerated a sigh. Dick smiled.

"What?"

"What?"

Barbara nudged at his shoulder. "You're being weird."

Dick yawned. "Must be the fever."

Barbara squinted at him. "I don't think so."

The thermometre started to beep. Saved by the bell, Dick thought as he took it in his hands, a groan leaving his mouth when he saw the temperature. "101," he said. 

Barbara nodded. "Okay, let me get you an Advil and I'll be back."

When she came back and Dick swallowed the pill, Barbara went back to her spot, obtaining the pillow from the floor as if it wouldn't end up back there again by morning. Dick's lips curled in a smile as he readjusted his own pillow. 

He pushed himself closer to Barbara. "Hold me?"

He felt a soft kiss on his neck, then an arm wrapped up protectively around him. "Of course." 


-Imagine if he came and threw up at the ballroom.

Dick opened one eye and looked around him. Warm sunlight bathed the bedroom.

-Not the weirdest thing he's done.

They were never going to let him live down his ambitious swing from the chandelier. He stretched his arms, wincing at how his skin still prickled. When he made it to the living room, his stomach made an angry, growly sound, but his lips stretched in a smile.

"Jay! Dami! Come give me a hug."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"I'm kidding, Geez," he mumbled as he settled into the couch next to Barbara, grabbing a blanket to wrap around him. 

Barbara laced an arm around his torso. "How are you?"

Dick shrugged. "Better? I think? The pills must have kicked in.I'm not dizzy right now and my stomach is-" another growl" -empty, apparently."

Jason grinned from his spot against the doorframe. "Good, because I brought you fake soup, ingredients to make a real soup, oh, and a gremlin."

Damian shot daggers at him from the armchair. "Say that to my face!"

"I literally just did!"

"Damian was worried about you," Barbara said to stop an upcoming fight. Not that Jason would actually fight Damian, but the kid was on his toes. 

Damian looked away from Jason and into Dick's eyes. "I volunteer to take a shift if Gordon wants a break," he said in all seriousness. "I believe you got it from me."

Dick smiled softly. "No, Dami, you were sick more than two weeks ago. It must have been one of my students."

Jason pointed a thumb behind him. "I'll go get started on the soup, but feel free to have the tasteless stuff they sell at the super market if you're hungry now."

Dick's smiled. "I'll hug you so much when I'm not sick anymore."

Jason rolled his eyes. "I'd rather not," he said and disappeared into the kitchen.

Dick nodded to himself. He would hug him a lot. He felt a pointed glare on him, and noticed Damian's hands were balled into fists.

"I'll hug you more, Dami, you're my favourite." It wasn't a complete lie. He had a very soft spot for the kid.

"That won't be necessary, Richard," he said, but the tiny smirk on his lips said otherwise.

Dick snuggled closer to Barbara and planted a kiss on her freckled shoulder. His family would get all the hugs in the world once he was back to full health, but he was happy that he still could cuddle up with the person he wanted to the most.

 

Notes:

I've never felt more embarrassed than the moment I realized I was telling my friend what a sickfic is.

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Thank you for reading!

Take care xx