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Bernard stumbles a little under Tim’s weight as he hefts his boyfriend’s limp arm over his own shoulders and pulls him up from where he’s collapsed a few steps short of the couch. The waves rock the boat just enough to make his footing unsteady, but Bernard readjusts and does his best not to drop Tim back to the floor. He manages, barely, to drop Tim on the couch instead before crouching in front of him and brushing Tim’s overgrown and greasy bangs off his forehead.
This is what Bernard gets for leaving his foolish boyfriend alone for two weeks. He knew he shouldn’t have procrastinated on his end of the year projects - traveling to the physics labs at Lexcorp in Metropolis was amazing but cramming four months of shadowing into two weeks hadn’t been the most fun experience. Tim had already been on the verge of spirling into a particularly difficult case and had, very clearly, gone off the deep end.
“Tim,” Bernard says firmly, tapping on his pale cheek. “Time to wake up.”
Tim snuffles a little and then groans, eyes fluttering open. They’re unfocused, his pupils dilated, but once Tim catches sight of Bernard he smiles toothily and grabs him by the front of his sweater to pull Bernard into a clumsy kiss. “Hey,” he says once he comes up for breath.
“Hey yourself,” Bernard smiles. “Went a little off the deep end did we?” Tim doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed of himself or of the tripping hazard he’s made the boat. Red thread covers the case boards he’s put up on the walls and trails across the floor, mixing with the files and stacks of loose paper. Bernard has seen Tim get pretty drawn into cases before but it hasn’t been this bad in a while.
“How was Metropolis?” Tim asks, voice a little croaky and Bernard narrows his eyes.
“Bright,” he answers, putting the back of his hand to Tim’s forehead and holding in the sigh when Tim’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into the contact. “You have a fever.”
“Just a little one,” Tim protests, not bothering to lie or pull away from Bernard’s hand. “It’s just a cold.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘just a cold’ when you have no spleen,” Bernard points out, tripping over some of the strings as he stands to wade over to the first aid kit in the kitchen. He pulls out the thermometer and, after some consideration, grabs the Advil and a decongestant as well before crouching back in front of Tim. “You know the drill Boy Blunder,” he says, pushing the thermometer past Tim’s lips. “Leave that alone and I’ll let you have Advil.”
“Marry me,” Tim mumbles, making grabby hands at the drugs but Bernard just rolls his eyes and uses one finger to push on Tim’s chin to close his mouth.
“Temperature first then drugs.”
While the thermometer measures, Bernard digs through the pile of water bottles and Gatorade next to the couch and, luckily, unearths an unopened bottle of Fruit Punch flavor. The thermometer beeps a second later and he snatches it before Tim can clear it out and lie about the results. “One hundred point three,” he says accusingly, raising an eyebrow at an unrepentant Tim.
“Whoops,” Tim mutters, not sounding repentant at all. “Probably shouldn’t have stayed out in the rain the other day.”
“Probably not,” Bernard agrees, cracking the top of the bottle and handing Tim the pills and the drink to wash it down. “When’s the last time you ate? When’s the last time you showered ?”
“Uh,” Tim looks a little guilty now and Bernard doesn’t give him time to make up an excuse.
“Up you get then,” he cajols, pulling Tim up off the couch and supporting his weight when he stumbles. “Warm shower first and then soup.”
Tim, because he’s nothing if not contrary, puts on the breaks. “I’m so close to a breakthrough! Just give me another, like, half hour to finish and then-,”
“Oh absolutely not ,” Bernard scoffs, pulling his stupid boyfriend into the cramped bathroom and dumping him to sit on the closed toilet. “You’re going to take a hot shower to let the steam loosen all that shit in your chest and then you’re going to eat some soup and then I’m going to cuddle the shit out of you because I’ve missed you and it's the only way I can guarantee you’ll sleep.”
There’s a split second where Tim looks mutinous enough that Bernard thinks he’s going to have to tie him down to make him rest but then Tim melts into the side of the counter. “…Just this once,” he concedes.
“Damn straight,” Bernard says, smiling and rewarding Tim with a kiss on the nose that makes him cross his eyes before he backs away to crank on the shower. “You gonna pass out if I leave you in here alone?”
“Absolutely,” Tim smirks and he really shouldn’t look so endearing with watery, fever bright eyes and a nose red from rubbing it. “I’ll probably need you to take it with me in fact. I could pull off a daring escape.”
That teases a surprised snort of laughter out of Bernard before he gives the warmed shower a considering look. He does feel gross from traveling and who is he to pass up an opportunity to wash up his smoking hot boyfriend’s hair? Besides - the boat has limited hot water anyway and it's good for the environment. It’s really a win-win for all.
“Fine,” Bernard agrees with a saucy wink that has Tim nearly tipping onto the floor. “But shower only.”
“Deal!” Tim says enthusiastically, trying to stifle a cough and failing. It echoes deep in his chest and Bernard steps forward to support him before he can fall.
“That sounds nasty,” Bernard says worriedly, rubbing Tim’s back consolingly and handing him a tissue to spit phlegm into. “Maybe we should call Dr. Thompkins?”
“No,” Tim croaks. “I don’t want to bother her so late for just a cold.”
Bernard sighs and cradles Tim’s face in his hands, rubbing careful thumbs over Tim’s cheeks as his eyes flutter shut. “It’ll turn into a chest infection if you aren’t careful.”
“I know,” Tim admits. “But can we deal with it tomorrow?”
It takes a moment for Bernard to think but he eventually gives in. “If you get any worse…”
“Then I’ll submit myself to Leslie’s tender mercies,” Tim concedes easily, leaning forward to rest his warm and sweaty forehead on Bernard’s shoulder. Tim stays quiet as Bernard starts to pull off his damp hoodie and then the t-shirt under it, making it no secret that he's looking for any possible injuries. Tim endures his prodding with more grace than usual and eagerly leans back against Bernard’s chest once they step into the shower, relaxing with a sigh as the warm water cascades over his shoulders.
They’re both quiet as they wash up with the cheap body wash Tim keeps but Tim can’t help but let out a satisfied groan when Bernard begins massaging the apple scented shampoo into his hair. It feels heavenly against the dull pain in his head and he nearly falls asleep standing up while the conditioner sets.
“Come on,” Bernard gently urges a few minutes later once it's washed out and the water has started to cool. “Let’s get out before you pass out.” Tim hums in acknowledgment and allows Bernard to wrap an oversized towel around him. He dries himself off blearily and dresses in the warm track pants and crewneck that his boyfriend passes over. “Bed,” Bernard chuckles when Tim collapses against his chest, burying his nose in Tim’s damp hair. “I’ll heat up the soup.”
“Just sleep,” Tim mutters, stumbling into the main room on the boat and flopping onto the bed. The mattress swallows him and he relaxes into it, letting Bernard poke him around until he’s actually under the comforter instead of on top of it.
“Who knows when you last ate something besides protein bars and smoothies,” Bernard scolds. “You’ll eat the soup and then I’ll let you sleep.”
Tim doesn’t respond, letting his awareness fade in and out as Bernard putters around the kitchen. Alfred keeps them all stocked up with frozen chicken noodle but Bernard opens the dollar can of Campbell’s instead. The smell of it cooking in the microwave is comforting and nostalgic; cold winter afternoons warming up after playing in the snow and fever toned memories of cuddling up on the couch next to his mom to watch daytime TV on sick days.
A few moments later Bernard is forcing him to sit up and putting an oversized mug of soup in his hands. It warms him to the bone and Tim breathes in the steam wafting off the top, scooting over so Bernard can join him with his own mug. They lean against each other and yawn as they slurp down the blistering broth and neither bother with getting out of bed to put the used cups in the sink - they set them on the bedside table and huddle back into the bed.
“Thanks,” Tim mumbles, shoving his back against Bernard’s chest and tangling his fingers with the ones that curl over his stomach.
“For the soup?” Bernard asks, voice slurred with sleep and Tim smiles and flips over so he can drape himself over Bernard’s chest, heartbeat now thumping against his ear like a relaxing percussion.
“For being you,” Tim clarifies, kissing the side of Bernard’s neck and tossing his leg over his boyfriend’s.
Bernard huffs and pulls Tim closer, burying his face in his hair and Tim lets his eyes slip shut. The boat rocks with the waves and rain pounds softly at the window.
They sleep.