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Batman coaxed Robin up to his feet, keeping a hand on the boys arm when he wavered. It was only when Robin himself pulled away that Batman let go, but he still kept close by just in case.
They didn’t speak as they made their way back to the Batmobile but when Robin sneezed and then let off a miserable groan, Batman opened his cape a little so that Robin could nestle into the warmth.
The drive itself was quiet too, quiet except for the occasional sniffle. Robin spent most of it curled up, staring out the window at the passing streets before finally he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window.
Immediately the boy muttered something, readjusting until he was still curled up but not touching the vibrating window.
Batman drove a little bit faster if only to get him home sooner but when they finally pulled into the cave, Robin made no move to leave the Batmobile. Batman came fully around, opening Robin’s door and kneeling in front of him.
“Shower,” Batman said.
“You shower.” Robin pouted, curling tighter.
“Robin. Shower, then bed, I’ll have Alfred bring you some water.”
“Don’t want water.”
Pulling down his cowl, it wasn’t Batman that reached out to feel Robin’s forehead but Bruce. Robin tried to avoid the touch so Bruce kept the hand an inch away, making it clear that while Bruce would not force it on Robin, there was no way that he was going to give up on it.
Robin glared for a long moment but then he gave the most dramatic sigh an eight year old possibly could.
Bruce still waited until it was Robin who tilted forward, pressing his forehead against the hand.
“Not too high,” Bruce said. “But still higher than I would like.”
Impossibly, Robin’s next sigh was even more dramatic than the last.
“I’m fine B.” He muttered. “Go away.”
For all of Robin’s insistence, when Bruce reached forward again Robin had no hesitation to wrap his arms around Bruce’s neck.
Bruce carried the boy towards the Medbay but when nails dug into his neck, he took him upstairs instead.
While Bruce should be more strict about not wearing suits upstairs in the Manor proper, he highly doubted he would be able to get Robin to let go for long enough to let them both change into civilian clothing.
Alfred still tutted when he saw the both of them but when Robin whimpered, burying into Bruce’s shoulder, Alfred just set to making the boy a hot chocolate.
It was only when they were in Dick’s room that Robin started dozing off but Bruce kept him awake, setting him carefully on the bed. Robin of course didn’t want to unlatch from Bruce’s neck, only letting go when Bruce pressed Zitka into Robin’s side.
Instantly Dick’s attention was on the small elephant instead, holding her close to his chest.
He sneezed, looking horrified for a moment at the thought of having sneezed onto Zitka. When he confirmed that she was fine, his shoulders dipped low with another miserable sound.
Dick curled his legs up, cradling Zitka, and Bruce wrapped a blanket around his shoulders just for the moment so that Bruce could get him some comfortable pyjamas.
“B…”
“Yes?”
“I’m dying.” Dick said. “I hope you’re happy.”
“You’re not dying.” Bruce said. “And I wouldn’t be happy if you did.”
“I told you you’d get me sick. I told you. I hope I get avenged. You know, I should get the Joker to avenge me. He’d probably find it funny.”
Bruce at last found Dick’s favourite pyjama bottoms but his Superman shirt was nowhere to be seen. When he returned with a plain one instead, Dick’s eyes watered.
“Lad,”
“I knew it. You’re mad at me.”
“While I would have preferred to know that you were unwell before patrol before you sneezed on a suspect,”
“Jerry deserved it.”
“I am not mad at you.” Bruce finished.
As Bruce went to ease the Robin uniform off, Dick curled away, burrowing into his blankets.
“Dick,”
“Go away.”
“Dick, you can’t stay in your uniform.”
All that answered him was a sneeze and a miserable groan.
“Dick, you know the rules.”
“Rules suck. That’s why I’m a vigilante.”
“Dick.” Bruce said firmly. “Uniform. Off. Either you get changed, I’ll wait right outside, you let me help you or you let Alfred help you. Three options.”
“Option four.”
“We do not have time for this, Dick, you need rest.”
“See! You are mad!”
“I’m not-”
Bruce forced himself to take in a deep even breath, reminding himself that he hadn’t exactly been easy on Alfred whenever he got sick as a kid. Dick was just a kid and the summer flu had hit him hard, he wasn’t trying to be a pain in the ass.
Then again, it was Dick Grayson so maybe at least part of it was to be a pain.
Dick burrowed further into the blanket and Bruce regretted ever putting it around him.
“Uniform off.” Bruce said. “And we can watch something.”
Bright blue eyes peered out from the pile of blankets. They were a little glazed and unfocussed but for the most part they were simply miserable. Bruce hated the look all the same, wishing nothing more than to take the boy’s pain away.
Dick retreated back into his nest.
“Dick. Enough.”
It wasn’t a sniffle that answered him but something even more fragile.
Bruce sighed, sitting on the edge of Dick’s bed.
Instantly the boy was curled up against him, the slightest tremor in his body as he let off another miserable sound.
“You need to be in your comfortable clothes, it’ll make everything feel better.”
“Robin protects people.”
“No one needs protecting right now, you can-”
Bruce stopped himself. He readjusted, trying to look down on Dick but Dick refused to raise his head.
“Robin’s protecting you.” Bruce said.
Dick curled ever tighter into Bruce’s side.
“Hurts.” Dick mumbled. “Robin can’t hurt.”
“Oh Lad…”
Another sniffle, then another, then Dick was outright crying.
Bruce let the boy cry for as long as he needed to even though it felt like Bruce himself was falling apart to know that Dick wasn’t feeling well. It was only now that Bruce thought that maybe he understood why Dick hadn’t mentioned being sick before they were on Patrol even though Bruce was still furious to think that Dick had been far more vulnerable than he would be on the top of his game.
“It’ll pass in a few days.”
“Because I’ll be dead.”
“Because you’ll be better.” Bruce said. “I know that you don’t feel okay right now, but it’s just the flu.”
Dick mumbled something into Bruce’s side but even though Bruce had strained to hear it, he couldn’t make any sense of the words. He coaxed Dick into repeating himself but the boy didn’t, new tears wetting Batman’s suit.
“Master Bruce,”
Bruce looked up, finding Alfred at the doorway with matching cups of hot chocolate. On the tray there was also children’s flu medication, somehow having worked out exactly what was wrong just from the brief time he had seen Dick when they came in.
“I believe that some marshmallows are in order.” Alfred said. “Nothing but the best medicine for our boy.”
“Don’t need medicine.” Dick said lowly.
“Lad,”
Dick pulled away from Bruce’s side and all at once he was up and on his feet but whatever it had been that he was going to announce it faded on his tongue, his whole body listing to the side.
Bruce tugged him back down and Dick didn’t fight it, only letting off yet another depressing noise that Bruce never wanted to hear from him again.
“Suit off, Dick,” Bruce said. “We’ll have our hot chocolate and then we’ll watch something, how does that sound?”
While Dick reached meekly for the mugs, he pulled away again as soon as Alfred held out the medicine first.
“Young Master,” Alfred said primly. “If you wish to get better, then you must work towards getting better.”
“But I’m dying anyway.”
“Nonsense.”
Although Bruce was about ready to give up on making Dick take the medication, hell he was pretty close to giving up on the uniform too, Alfred did not waver for even a moment, staring down the boy with an expression that Bruce himself knew far too well.
Alfred was not going to drop this, even if the world literally ended right then and there Alfred would still be patiently waiting for his requests to be completed.
Dick did not seem swayed either though, curling up tightly and apparently giving up on the hot chocolate.
Just as Bruce was starting to think that this stalemate was going to go on for eternity, Dick’s hand snapped out, knocking the medicine off the tray.
“Dick!” Bruce growled.
Instantly Dick was sobbing, his whole body shaking from the effort.
When Bruce went to wrap an arm around him, Dick pulled hard away from him, disappearing fully beneath the blankets.
“Dick,” Bruce tried.
Dick sobbed harder.
“Dick, please,”
Bruce looked to Alfred for help but Alfred simply leaned down, picking up the spilled medicine and cleaning it with a napkin, the tray not so much as wobbling.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Bruce snapped. “You need to take your uniform off and you need to take the medicine. You’re being ridiculous.”
The form beneath the blankets stilled.
Slowly, so slowly, a head came out from beneath them, looking younger than Bruce had ever seen him and all at once Bruce was reminded that his charge wasn’t simply a boy, he was a young boy and right now he was a young boy who was sick.
“Hurts.”
“That’s what the medication will fix.”
“Hurts.” Dick said again, his lip wobbling as new tears threatened to spill over.
Bruce pressed his hand against Dick’s forehead but his fever was no higher than it had been earlier.
And then it hit him because the simply action threw Bruce back years to the times where his Father would press the back of his hand against Bruce’s forehead, remarking that he didn’t have a fever he just wanted to get time off school. Bruce’s Dad had let him stay home all the same, holding him close as they listened to an album that they both liked.
“Robin protects you.” Bruce said. “Robin keeps you safe, because your parents can’t.”
Dick whimpered.
“Dick,” Bruce said gently. “I know that I’m not… Enough. But I want to help. And so does Alfred. And if Robin’s helping to then I suppose, just this once, that you can keep Robin with you. But there will be no patrols until you are completely well again.”
Arms had wrapped around him even before Bruce realised that Dick was moving.
Bruce leaned down, going to kiss the boy on the top of the head but he hesitated, pulling away instead.
This was his ward.
His charge.
The boy that Bruce had taken in simply so that he did not follow the same path that Bruce had in his grief.
This was not his son.
It wasn’t.
Bruce did not have a child, he had a ward.
But then Dick was crying again and Bruce kissed the top of his head anyway and instantly Dick settled, pressing harder into Bruce’s side.
Bruce knew that he himself needed to get changed out of his suit, he needed to shower and do the reports of the night, he needed to follow up a few more lines of investigation, he needed to do a million things and one but for now he was content with holding Dick close to him.
When Dick reached a hand out towards the tray, Alfred already had a new small cup of medicine ready.
Dick whimpered, obviously not wanting to take it, but when he looked down at his uniform he steeled himself and took it anyway. New tears had poured down his face the moment he took the medicine but Bruce was right there to sooth him through it.
It only took less than a mug of hot chocolate for Dick to fall asleep, still pressed against Bruce’s side, but Bruce kept the mug from spilling. He handed it back to Alfred, nodding his thanks.
Alfred moved to go but then he stopped.
“You did well, Son.” Alfred said.
Before Bruce could even comprehend the words, Alfred was already gone.
Dick let off a contented sigh and Bruce couldn’t help but mirror his son.