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Something hurts. Something’s crushing his skull… maybe… not really. That’s a good start. Dick groans and tries to orientate himself. He’s against something soft. Textiles. Fabric. High thread count. Not quite his normal bedding. Wrong smell. Familiar, Titans Tower. He’s in Titans Tower. Right… yeah. They had a party last night. Fifteen years of the Titans. He feels old. How much did he have to drink last night? One… two beers. Anything else? No. Just the beers. He’s a lightweight but he can handle two beers. No gaps in his memory either. He chatted with Kara until about five in the morning then sauntered off to bed. No opportunities for him to be spiked. He doesn’t think anyone here would do that anyway.
He rolls over to check the time and his stomach writhes with the action. He doesn’t have a moment to wallow in this regret however as he launches himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He steps on whoever is sleeping on his bedroom floor in the process but right now that doesn’t matter.
He heaves his guts into the toilet bowl, not even bothering to turn the lights on. He’s shaky. Why is he shaky? He’s sweaty too. Was he too warm last night. He’s in shorts and a t-shirt, light duvet on the bed. He’s not… he shouldn’t be overheating. Fever. Infection? No major injuries as far as he’s aware. So probably… He pukes again. Probably some sort of internal infection. Something gastric. He presses his head into the cold of the toilet seat as he vaguely senses someone behind him.
“Dick, you good?”
Dick opens his mouth to speak and finds himself retching again instead.
He feels Roy crouch down next to him, hand rubbing up and down his back. “Your puke’s getting in your hair.”
Dick spits out more stomach acid.
“How much did you have to drink last night?” Roy asks.
“Two,” Dick says.
“Two what? Different twos have very different connotations Dick.”
“Two cans of beer.” He heaves again but this time nothing comes up.
“Yeah, that is not two cans of beer worth of puke,” Roy says. “Did you take anything else?”
“Why would I-” Dick spits again.
“Hey, I’m here to help not judge,” Roy says. He taps Dick’s face. “You’re warm. Any infections?”
“No external wounds,” Dick says. He pants, every muscle in his abdomen pulled, “I was fighting Solomon Grundy the other night.”
“In the sewer?”
Dick nods and suddenly all of this makes sense. “Rebreather was knocked out of place.”
“You able to breathe okay?”
Dick nods. “No pneumonia. Just… tired.” He feels as if he’s about to phase through the floor or something. “The world’s fucking spinning.”
“You pissed yet?” Roy asks.
Dick shakes his head which is a horrible mistake. He spits up more stomach acid and his head hurts so much he could cry. He’s been tortured before. He’s been tortured so many times. He’d take any of those over this. At least then there’d be someone to stare at defiantly. He imagines whatever cocktail of bacteria, viruses and protists is attacking his digestive system and thinks about giving them all the middle finger. “Fuck Cryptosporidium.”
“Hey, you’re a Crypto bro now, at least one of us had to be,” Roy says.
Dick tries to angle himself to kick him while keeping his face close to the toilet. This results in him falling over.
Roy pulls him up again and god his head is spinning. He closes his eyes to at least somewhat combat the feeling that he’s being shaken at highspeed. “Think you’re okay sitting if I go get some water?”
“Can I lie down?” Dick asks.
“Yeah, let’s get you in recovery position.” Roy helps him rest his head against the gloriously cold tile of the bathroom floor. He feels himself start to shake and shiver.
It is of course like this that fucking Hawk of all people finds him. “Damn, Wing, you got really fucked up, didn’t you?” he asks. “Knew you had it in you.”
“’M not hungover,” Dick groans, trying to curl on himself a bit tighter. There are very, very few people who he’s comfortable seeing him like this, out of the mask, out of the suit, curled up, shivering on the bathroom floor. Hawk is absolutely not one of those people.
“What, you got food poisoning or something?” Hawk snorts. “Fucking weakling.”
“Piss off,” Roy says as he comes back into the room.
“I did come in here to piss,” Hawk says.
“Yeah, well go to a different bathroom, or a fucking plant pot for all I care,” Roy pushes him out of the doorway and closes the door. “Okay, Short Pants, we have Pedialyte.”
“Thanks,” Dick pushes himself upright and takes the bottle. It’s overly sweet and makes his stomach churn more. But he needs it. If he can’t stomach it, next step is going to be an IV.
“Think you can keep it down?” Roy asks.
Dick nods before his gut churns. Shit. “I need you to get out.”
“The amoebas causing problems at both ends?” Roy asks.
Dick nods and fuck his horrible morning right now.
“Yeah, shout if you need me. I’ll guard the door.”
Dick’s not sure how much time passes as he’s fairly sure his body's purging out its organs. He has been through worse. He knows he has been through so much that should be worse. He has been tortured more times than he can care to remember. But this, this miserably mundane situation that he’s fairly sure every civilian goes through at least once too, might actually be the lowest moment of his life right now.
Eventually, however, his body through dehydration or exhaustion or some sort of belief it’s fixed itself for the time being, gives up on trying to get rid of whatever infection he has. He cleans himself and the bathroom as much as possible even if he’s shaking before calling Roy back in. “Want to pass out in bed?” Roy asks.
“I’m going to throw up on the sheets or worse,” Dick admits.
“In which case, we clean the sheets,” Roy says. “You saved Gotham from I’m guessing something to do with Solomon Grundy. And it’s not even your city. You shouldn’t punish yourself for that by lying on a cold floor while sick.”
“Fine,” Dick says. “But I’ve warned you.”
“I know, now let’s go get a bucket and watch something.”
“Scooby Doo?”
“Watching that show with you is akin to torture,” Roy says. “We’re watching Sherlock.”
“No. Why?”
“It will give you a reason to be nauseated that doesn’t involve shit water.”
“Ugh…” Dick rolls his eyes. “If you get whatever this is from me-”
“It will be fully deserved and fully worth it.” Roy pats him on the back, nudging him forwards to his room. This is a low moment in Dick’s life but he’s glad for Roy’s support.