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It was less a parade of excitement and reverie as they came into the Batcave after the mission and more like an exhausted meander. It had taken considerably longer than expected to keep Earth safe from a world ending threat thing time and it had taken almost every single one of them to do so.
Batman ordered them to take showers.
There was no complaints there, especially from Nightwing who still had alien goo stuck in his hair.
But then Batman reminded them to get ready for the Gala tonight.
All at once they were shouting, and groans of frustration that nearly sounded like the one Batman wanted to make himself. He just stood tall, barely even listening to the complaints.
“Everyone is to attend.” Batman said. “This is non-negotiable.”
“Bullshit non-negotiable.” Red Hood snapped. “You can’t make me do shit.”
“B, this is ridiculous,” Nightwing said.
“This is not up for discussion. Shower. Get ready. The event starts in two hours.”
Red Hood continued to fume, and Nightwing continued to argue, Spolier continued to curse Batman out and Orphan was trying to use her expression she kept only for the times she really needed to get her way while Signal just looked downright miserable, not to mention exhausted.
The only one that wasn’t complaining was Red Robin who was already perched on the computer chair trapping away at the bat computer. Red Robin’s shoulders were dipped, just as tired as the rest of them were.
“Take the night off.” Batman said.
Red Robin sat up straight, his eyes wide, while Red Hood cursed the both of them out. Batman raised a hand to silence Hood, not that it worked, then tugged off his cowl.
“Tim.” Bruce said. “I saw that hit you took today. Get Alfred to check you out and then get some rest.”
“I’m fine.” Tim said.
“You collided with a wall.”
“I made it look like I collided with a wall.” Tim said. “You guys needed a distraction to take out the rest of the aliens. I gave you that distraction.”
“Actually,” Jason piped up, apparently distracted from his own annoyance. “Pretty sure you gave Batsy a heart attack.”
Tim glared at him.
“I’m fine.” Tim insisted. “I promise, if something was wrong I would tell you.”
Bruce’s brow quirked.
Jason outright laughed.
Even Damian gave a barely suppressed snort.
Duke just yawned, loud and long. Bruce would check in with him soon.
When Dick came fully over and ruffled Tim’s hair, Tim knocked the hand away without so much as a glance in his direction, attention solely on Bruce.
“I’m good.” Tim said.
Although Jason had been one of the first to complain about the idea of Tim not attending the Gala that everyone else had to be at, Jason leant against the desk with a roll of his eyes.
“For fucks sake, Kid,” He said. “He’s giving you a free pass to not go to another stupid Gala and you’re saying no? Can I get a free pass?”
“No.” Bruce said.
“That’s some bullshit.” Jason declared.
“Go.” Bruce said. “All of you, go shower and get ready. This isn’t up for negotiation.”
After a few more groans, and a particularly impressive sigh from Damian, all but Bruce and Tim wandered off towards the change room. Tim stood but a single pointed look from Bruce was enough to get him sitting down again, though not without his own impressive sigh.
While Bruce knew that he would get Alfred to form a second opinion, Bruce started assessing Tim.
Tim, to his credit, submitted to it with just a single eyeroll.
“Pulse is steady.” Bruce said. “No visible injuries to head or face, pupils equal and reactive.”
“So,” Tim said. “The diagnosis is that I’m perfectly fine. What a shock.”
Bruce hummed.
Tim slumped further in the chair, twisting it a little.
“You are tired.” Bruce noted.
“Alien invasion.” Tim replied. “Goo. Everywhere.”
“Headache?”
“No.”
“Stomachache.”
“Also no. Bruce ache? Yes.”
“Tim.”
“Bruce.”
“You are being obstinate.”
“And you’re being overdramatic.” Tim said. Then, he straightened, slipping on the mask of a perfect pupil. “I apologise, that was uncalled for. I have not sustained any injuries on the mission, or before the mission. I am not hiding any injuries. I am fully aware that you have offered for me to not attend the function tonight.”
“Tim.” Bruce warned.
Tim slumped again, crossing his arms with a huff.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be honest.”
“I am being honest.” Tim said. “I was not injured today, or before the mission. I am not hiding an injury, why can’t you believe me?”
Because Bruce had believed Tim time and again only to find Tim on deaths door from injuries he had never told a soul about.
But Tim’s voice was straining and he looked genuinely hurt about this.
“Okay.” Bruce said. “Have a shower. I expect to see you at the Gala then, Tim.”
“Oh no,” Tim drawled, trying his best at Jason’s voice. “How fucking dare you force me into a social event. I’m going to die of boredom, B, don’t make me do this.”
Bruce chuckled. When he ruffled Tim’s hair, instead of pushing him away like he had done to Dick, Tim lit up with a bright smile.
As Tim trudged towards the bathrooms, there was an echoing shout from the showers as apparently Steph did something to mess with Duke or something rather. Bruce watched Tim the entire way, looking for any sign that this was more than just fatigue.
Bruce forced himself to look away.
Tim was tired. Nothing more. Nothing less. Bruce had given him the option to get out of the Gala and he had refused, that was all Bruce needed to do.
As much as Bruce was aware of the stakes of the Gala, no doubt higher than that of the Earth saving mission they had all just come off of, when he started gathering everything he needed for his own shower, Bruce found his own fatigue setting in.
His back ached, his head more so at the mere thought of the exhausted kids, teens and young adults that were going to be at the function.
Maybe it would have been a better idea to cancel it after all, but with how many events were being hosted in this time of year, if this was canceled then the people who were going to suffer the most for it were going to be the cancer patients that they were raising funds for.
No, exhausted or not, this was an important cause.
Fighting crime was one thing, fighting illness was another thing that could not be pushed aside simply because one, or in their case all, were tired. But tired birds had a habit of making a mess and Bruce was going to have to mentally prepare for that, and might very well take a preventative migraine medication.
Tasks, then.
Bruce would allocate them tasks. It had worked for other events before, even the most tired bird was unable to cause too much trouble so long as they had something to distract them.
As the voices disappeared upstairs, leaving the shower block empty, Bruce finally went into it himself. The hot water just made his body ache more, but at least it gave him time to think.
The ballroom had become a seas of zombies and princesses and even the occasional superhero. With the Halloween Gala being one of the most popular events of the social calendar, it wasn’t just Gotham Elites who had come to Wayne Manor but also the wealthy and influential of the entire country and beyond and it was hard to take two steps without accidentally bumping into someone who was richer than whole countries.
Given the events popularity, Bruce was certain that their goal for the cancer program would not only be reached, but surpassed.
Some of the nights costumes were admittedly fantastic, others less so.
Bruce himself had initially planned on dressing as Robin, if only to make his kids groan, but Alfred had instead chosen each of their costumes to make up for the kitchen fire last week.
This was why Bruce was dressed as a butler.
It was also why Dick was dressed as a butler.
And so was Tim.
And Damian.
And Jason, though he had never bothered to put the bowtie on.
Cass and Duke had managed to avoid this evening’s embarrassment by having been away at the time of the fire, so they had come in matching Tetris Block costumes.
Barbara, having been absent during the fire too, had also been spared. Why Barbara had chosen then to dress up as Superman, given that Clark Kent was a roving reporter for the night, Bruce had no idea.
All and all, even with how exhausted they all were the event was going well so far.
Bruce had been able to keep up his civilian identity as a rich host who spared no expense for his guests with incredible food and multiple acts from local performers and even a ten piece orchestra to play haunting music.
Best of all, they had indeed managed to get incredibly high donations for the cancer foundation even though they still had plenty of time left in the night. It almost made having this many people at the Manor worth it, though Bruce would always prefer the quieter moments when it was just him and his family.
Then again, his family were not exactly known to be very quiet themselves.
Damian had almost tackled not one, but two, socialites so far, and Dick had managed to get slapped by three separate exes but as the two of them go, Bruce was actually quite proud of his boys.
Jason of course was also being Jason, currently on a tirade about the Bronte sisters and on how much more respect they should have with an increasingly worried couple.
Only Tim so far had somehow managed to avoid trouble, though Bruce wasn’t sure how much longer that was going to last.
Tasks. They needed tasks.
If Bruce didn’t want them doing something stupid, they needed tasks. He had already allocated each of them an important mission for the night but some of them had completed their tasks far too quickly.
Damian was easy enough to distract, close call tackles not withstanding. One of the honoured guests of the night had brought in puppies as part of their costume and Damian had been tasked with sneaking each puppy up to his room without attracting attention.
The guest in question of course was actually a volunteer at the animal shelter who Bruce had contacted beforehand, making certain that the dogs were safe at all times. The real trouble was going to be convincing Damian to let the puppies go to their forever homes but that was a later Bruce problem.
Damian only had two puppies left to go so Bruce would have to activate part two of Damian’s task soon.
Another later problem was how he was going to make it up to Alfred for any damage the puppies caused.
The others were also progressing with their tasks to various success.
All that left was Tim.
By now, Tim was no doubt three quarters of his way through his task of detecting who it was that was trying to use the IP address to access the manors security, if not further, so Bruce would need to check in with him soon.
In fact, there Tim was, eyeing off a cake on the buffet table.
Bruce chuckled as he strolled up to his son. When he was still six feet away from Tim, Bruce’s smile dropped.
Tim wasn’t eyeing off the cake, he was leaning on the table. What little colour there usually was in Tim’s skin had drained away, a bead of sweat developing on his forehead.
Bruce shoved through the crowd to get to Tim.
“A word.” Bruce growled.
Tim straightened, tried for a perfect gala smile, but Bruce was not going to fall for it.
Finally, Tim relented, and Bruce followed him towards the private section of the Manor. As soon as they were alone in a drawing room, Bruce whirled on him.
“You said you weren’t hiding an injury.”
Tim opened his mouth but Bruce continued on before he could speak.
“I didn’t think I needed to make the distinction that hiding an illness wasn’t okay either.”
Tim opened his mouth again but hesitated, no doubt waiting to be interrupted again. When he wasn’t, he leaned a little against the writing desk.
“It’s fine, Bruce,” Tim said faintly.
“It is not fine.” Bruce said firmly. “You ask me to trust you and then you are the one to betray that trust. It is unacceptable, Tim, and I had hoped that we were finally passed all of this.”
“All of what?” Tim asked.
“Hiding secrets.” Bruce said.
Tim’s scoffed.
“Tim.” Bruce warned.
“You know what?” Tim said. “I might just have to take you up on that offer after all. I’m going to stay at Drake Manor for the night. Get some rest after the crazy day. I’ll see you on patrol tomorrow.”
“Tim.”
But Tim was already on his way back to the door.
Bruce stepped in front of him, blocking the way out.
“You are staying here.” Bruce said.
“You don’t get to tell me what I can do, Bruce.” Tim said hotly. “Not after everything I’ve done for you.”
“You are staying here.” Bruce repeated. “This is non-negotiable.”
“It’s always non-negotiable with you! First it was the- the…”
Tim listed but when Bruce reached out to steady him, Tim stepped away.
“Leave me alone, Bruce.” Tim said. “You of all people don’t get to decide what I can do.”
“Tim.”
“I said fuck off Br…”
When Tim tilted this time, he barely caught himself on the desk.
Tim rose a hand, staring at it as it shook.
“Bruce?” He breathed.
This time when Bruce put a hand on Tim’s arm, Tim became the one latching onto him instead.
“Symptoms.”
Tim shook his head but his nails dug into Bruce’s arm.
“Tim,” Bruce said gently. “Let me help.”
Bruce gave him all the time in the world to make a choice but all it took was the tiniest of nods and Bruce was guiding Tim over to the chair. Tim’s legs crumpled immediately but Bruce kept him from falling forward with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Symptoms, Son.”
But while Tim had allowed Bruce to get him sitting down, he still offered no answers.
“Your pulse was normal earlier.” Bruce said. “With no sign of fever.”
Tim curled a little away from him.
“You can change your pulse.” Bruce mused. “Maybe not all the time, but if you want to, you can change it.”
Bruce took Tim’s hand into his own. He didn’t take Tim’s pulse, not immediately, just feeling the slight tremble instead and more importantly the coolness to his skin. No, more importantly was the fact that when he squeezed Tim’s hand gently, Tim’s shoulders dipped lower.
Finally Bruce shifted his hand to the pulse point.
“Tim.” He warned.
“What?” Tim muttered. “I can’t help it.”
“Tell me about how a trojan horse works.”
“You know how.”
“Humour me.”
Tim shifted in the seat, not quite able to meet Bruce’s eye. As he talked, his voice was weak, getting out of breath more frequently than he would ordinarily. He relaxed the further he got into it though, which meant he wasn’t manually adjusting his own heart rate.
The very same heart rate that was far too low.
Although Bruce didn’t need to keep his hand on Tim’s, he did anyway.
“You’re dizzy too,” Bruce said. “Light sensitive.”
Tim huffed but kept his eyes distinctly away from the light.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone that you were-”
“Can we not?” Tim croaked. “Please? I… I just want to go to bed.”
“Okay,” Bruce said. “But we will be talking once you’re doing better. Do you think you can walk?”
Tim nodded mutely. Then his lip trembled and he twisted away again. There was a shaking to his shoulders, but when the first tear slid down his face, Tim didn’t make a single sound.
Bruce cupped his cheek, brushing the tear away. He then leant forward, pressing a kiss to Tim’s forehead.
“Everything’s fuzzy.” Tim admitted weakly. “And I… I can’t feel my legs.”
While Bruce’s every instinct screamed at him to pick Tim up then and there and whisk him away to the Medbay downstairs, he forced himself to settle.
“When did this start?”
Tim shrugged helplessly.
“Before the excitement today, then.” Bruce said. “Have you been vomiting?”
A shake this time. Then new tears were streaming down his face, his whole body shuddering.
“I’m sorry.” He said.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about Lad.” Bruce said. “Well, like I said we will address the lies through omission later, but right now what’s important is getting you feeling better.”
“But I… I’m sorry.”
“Son.” Bruce waited until Tim finally looked at him. “When did this start?”
“Last week. But… But it wasn’t this bad, I swear. I… I wouldn’t have risked the mission if it was.”
“Tim.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I swear I’ll-”
“Tim.” Bruce said softly. “Enough. You can’t help being sick. Let’s get you downstairs, we can-”
But Tim was already shaking his head. The movement made his dizziness worse and he started listing again but Bruce kept him from falling.
“You need to stay hydrated.” Bruce said. “And we can make sure it’s just a persistent migraine with no further infection.”
Tim gave off a little whine.
Bruce sighed. He leaned back a little, never taking his hand off of Tim just in case he started to overbalance again.
“It’s too bright down there.” Bruce deduced.
Tim bit his lip hard. Then nodded.
“Okay,” Bruce said. “But you will be placed on an IV. This is non-negotiable.”
“Everything’s non-negotiable to you.” Tim said faintly.
There was an attempt of a smile, one that just broke as new tears welled up in his eyes.
“Very well,” Bruce said. “Negotiate. I’m saying IV for twenty four hours and migraine medication.”
“No meds.”
“The medication is what will help.”
Tim readjusted, kicking a little at the floor.
“No IV then.” Tim said.
“You are dehydrated, no doubt because of nausea. And before you say that you’re not nauseous, I have not seen you eat anything in the last twelve hours.”
Tim made another little sound.
It was clear that while he wanted to choose his own treatment plan, he couldn’t think clearly enough to come up with counter offers.
So Bruce waited. He fought his every urge to force Tim through every required treatment, his every urge to never again let Tim out of his sight. Bruce waited, breathing evenly, expression eased, making it clear that what happened next would be up to Tim.
Finally, Tim spoke, though his voice was weak.
“Butterfly needle?”
“Butterfly needle.” Bruce agreed.
“Twelve hours. In my room, not downstairs.”
“Tim,”
“Twelve hours.” Tim said. “Then reassess…”
That meant that twelve hours from now Bruce was going to have to see if there are new terms to their deal but at least Tim should be thinking more clearly by then and be able to acknowledge that he needed the hydration.
“And,” Tim said. “You don’t tell the others. That I was sick before the mission. As far as they’ll know, I just came down with it now.”
Bruce tensed his jaw. Then he nodded.
Tim raised his shaking free hand and Bruce took it firmly and shook.
When Tim went to stand, his legs wobbled far too much. He took a step, then another, with Bruce right by his side. Tim made a little sound, closing his eyes tightly. Tim tapped Bruce’s arm three times in quick succession.
Bruce moved slowly all the same, readjusting his grip on Tim until he was able to wrap Tim’s arm around his neck, scooping up Tim’s legs. Tim whimpered at the movement, burying his head in Bruce’s neck.
They went to Tim’s room, keeping the lights dim. Bruce helped him get changed into sweats and a loose shirt and once Tim was situated in bed Bruce pressed a kiss on his forehead and assured him that he would be back soon.
While Bruce didn’t want to leave him alone at any point, he had no doubt that the roving reporter in the ballroom would be keeping an ear out for Tim’s heartbeat. Tim was not in danger, not with help so close by.
As Bruce made his way to the cave to get supplies, he sent a message to Alfred asking him to explain Bruce’s absence if anyone should ask, and if possible cut the night short overall. The loud crowd was surely not helping Tim’s migraine and while it could have been quieter in the cave Bruce understood that Tim was more comfortable in his bedroom.
Of course the moment that Bruce was up in the Manor itself again with an IV kit, two saline bags and migraine medication, he had company.
“What’s going on?” Jason demanded.
“Is he okay?” Dick asked. “He disappeared.”
“I saw you walk him out,” Barbara said. “What happened?"
“Sick.” Cass said.
“And because he’s an idiot,” Steph said. “He didn’t tell us shit. So, what is it this time? Pneumonia? Appendix?”
“You can’t lose your appendix a second time.” Duke said. “At least, I don’t think you can?”
Bruce took in a deep breath, holding it for a moment.
“Tim is okay,” Bruce said. “He’s just… Wait, where’s Damian?”
“Already snuck in.” Dick shrugged.
Which meant all hell was about to break loose given that Tim had already been so snippy today and Damian was not always the most tactful when dealing with someone who was sick or injured.
Glaring at the lot of them to stay exactly where they were, he wasn’t at all surprised that they hovered right behind him as he cracked open Tim’s room.
Tim was still in bed, which was honestly kind of impressive all and of itself, but he now had a small form pressed up against him, surrounded by too many puppies all sleeping soundly from all the excitement of the night.
Bruce approached carefully, glaring at the other kids the moment they tried to spill into the room.
With Damian laid against one of Tim’s sides, already sleeping soundly given the day he had had, Bruce came to Tim’s other side. Tim wasn’t quite sleeping, though he did blink very slowly as Bruce approached.
Tim wordlessly offered his arm though he twisted the rest of his body away from Bruce.
Bruce quickly but carefully set up the line, making sure to tape it down significantly more than he would for anyone else. While Tim was accepting it now, they had had far too many times where he had ripped them out in confusion or more often frustration and even if Bruce was going to recheck in twelve hours on if Tim would like to keep it in, he didn’t want to risk dislodging it until then.
He gave Tim the medication too, though Tim initially resisted taking it. Finally he relented with the most dramatic eyeroll he could do, though he whimpered when it just made his headache worse.
Tim went to sit fully.
“Rest, Son.” Bruce rumbled. Then, with a smile. “This is non-negotiable.”
“Haha.” Tim muttered.
When Bruce went to leave, Tim’s hand shot out, gripping onto Bruce’s.
“Stay?”
“Tim,”
Tim let go, twisting away again.
“Sorry,” Tim said. “You’re busy.”
“I was going to say that of course I will.”
It didn’t take long for Tim to fall asleep, but Bruce stayed right there with his son, pressing a kiss to his forehead.