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Dick opened Damian’s bedroom door and peered inside. Damian was asleep, breathing noisily through his mouth, curled in a ball beneath the blankets. Seeing Damian look so awful, Dick felt a mix of sympathy and a small spike of irritation. He was annoyed that Damian hadn’t said anything about feeling bad until he nearly fell over trying to stand. But he was also frustrated with himself for not noticing anything wrong.
Damian had always been private. Only recently had he begun to truly open up to Dick about personal things, and they were coming up on a year of Dick taking him in. They were at the point where Damian wasn’t hiding injuries, so Dick had assumed that if, let’s say, it was flu season and Damian had caught it, he would have mentioned it.
But no. Damian had put on a brave face for two days, and Dick was none the wiser until Damian had quickly stood up off the couch so Dick could drive him to school, and would have collapsed to the floor if Dick hadn’t caught him mid-fall.
Dick stepped into the room, walking over to Damian’s bed and feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. He didn’t feel much of a difference. He had never been good at gauging fevers with his hands, and he had no intention of waking Damian up with the thermometer. As Dick pulled away, pulling Damian’s blanket more securely over his shoulders, his attention was caught by a soft meow.
Alfred, who had been curled up against Damian’s back, had unfurled herself, stretching out before standing. She slunk over to Dick, rubbing against his hand as he held it out. Dick felt like he had been in Damian’s bedroom most of the day, but he was no match for Alfred, who had taken it upon herself to sit vigil on Damian’s bed. As Alfred continued to rub against Dick, he watched as Damian took in deep, nasally breaths.
Dick just wished Damian had spoken up earlier—or that he himself had noticed. If Damian had even mentioned, offhand, a stuffy nose or queasiness, Dick would have taken him to Leslie’s office immediately.
Now, Dick would have to mourn that missed opportunity; he was left with nothing to do other than watch as Damian shivered under the blankets, waking up to either look around confused while Dick coaxed water into him, or to vomit up the few saltines Dick had managed to convince him to eat.
Dick had given Damian Tylenol that morning and again an hour or so after lunch, which seemed to have brought Damian’s temperature down from what it had been that morning, alongside keeping the fever from re-emerging throughout the day. The next dose in an hour would hopefully keep Damian’s fever from spiking overnight.
Dick grabbed Damian’s empty water bottle, left the room, and headed to the kitchen to refill it. As the bottle was filled by the fridge, Dick glanced at the oven clock, recognizing that on a normal schedule, he and Damian would be eating dinner by now. Dinner, at least, Damian’s dinner, had been on Dick’s mind for the past hour. Dick knew that when someone was sick, making sure they were properly fed and hydrated was essential. Dick, however, also understood that within an hour or so, Damian’s fever would most definitely spike as it got late, and keeping it at the very least low-grade was a must.
Damian hadn’t even kept saltines down when he had eaten them earlier, so Dick feared that if Damian did eat, he would end up vomiting them back up alongside the next round of medication. Maybe it would just be best to keep Damian hydrated for now and try food again once they make it through the night. With a sigh, Dick set Damian’s water bottle on the counter as he opened the pantry, fishing out Alfred’s dinner. He listened for her as he dumped a scoop of dry food in her bowl, slightly confused when she didn’t come bounding in. When she still didn’t show even after he cracked open a can of wet food and spooned it into the bowl, his confusion worsened.
He had just seen her, and she had seemed fine. He walked back to Damian’s room, water bottle in hand, to check on Alfred. When he entered, she was sitting on the floor by the foot of Damian’s bed, staring up at him as he set the water bottle on Damian’s nightstand.
“Your dinner is waiting, you know,” Dick said, approaching Alfred and picking her up. All seemed well until he began to walk towards the door, at which point Alfred began kicking up a fit, meowing and struggling against Dick’s hold. He let go, watching as she dropped to the floor, quickly making her way right back to her previous position next to Damian’s bed.
She gave a quiet meow again, eyeing Dick and licking her lips together.
“Okay...? I guess it will be waiting for you in the kitchen.” Dick said, eyeing Alfred before leaving the room to collect the bottle of Tylenol in the bathroom. With the Tylenol in hand, Dick walked back into the kitchen, setting Alfred’s bowl on her feeding mat and then turning to the pantry. Dick would make himself a small meal, and then at exactly 7:45 PM, he would give Damian his medicine.
After Dick had finished eating the sandwich he made himself (still hyper vigilant at the fact that Alfred had yet to come eat), he opened the Tylenol bottle, shook out a pill, and walked to Damian’s room.
Damian, other than shifting slightly, hadn’t moved, and Alfred, who had gotten back on the bed, was now lying securely in the curve of Damian’s shoulder and neck, eyes jumping to Dick as he opened the door.
After turning on the bedside lamp, making the room glow a gentle yellow, Dick sat down on the edge of Damian’s mattress, resting his hand on his arm gently.
“Dames?” Dick asked, speaking quietly, gently shaking Damian awake. “You need to take some more medicine before you go back to sleep, okay?”
With a quiet, frustrated sound, Damian scrunched his eyes closed tightly, then began trying to shift away from Dick. Alfred stood up as Damian moved, circling around to sit near his legs, watching as Dick continued to rouse him.
“I know, bud, I know. But this should keep your fever down through the night. All you have to do is swallow one pill and a little water, and then you can sleep again. Can you do that?”
Dick helped guide the still grumbling Damian to sit up, holding most of his weight up as he passed Damian the pill, giving him a small smile when those green, glassy eyes began staring at him. Damian took the pill in his hands, bringing it up to his mouth, reaching for the water bottle Dick was now handing him, and then swallowed down both.
With a heavy sigh, Damian clumsily let himself fall back onto the mattress, burying his head into the pillow. Dick helped Damian adjust his comforter around his shoulders, and once Dick was certain Damian was tucked in well, he grabbed another blanket and set it on top of Damian’s prone form.
When Dick was finished, Damian seemed to have already given himself up to the draw of sleep, and Alfred had taken up the spot near Damian’s side, her head resting on his hip. Dick leaned forward, pressing a kiss on Damian’s hairline, sweeping his sweaty bangs back before standing.
Dick walked back to his bedroom, already preparing himself for a few more days of a sick Damian. He would need to call Gotham Academy, so they would be aware as to why Damian had missed today and the foreseeable future. As Dick drifted off, he could only hope that by tomorrow morning, Damian would be doing noticeably better.
When Damian woke up, the only thing he could feel—could even think—about was that he was freezing.
He could feel his teeth chattering harshly, and as he tried to look around the room, he found that he couldn’t focus on anything. He blinked languidly, trying to adjust his vision before giving up.
Why he was so cold, Damian did not know. But what he did know was that he needed another blanket.
Maybe two.
Just something to fight the chill that seemed to be sinking into the depths of his body.
Slowly, he tried to reach out.
His hand twitched with effort. It didn’t move.
That wasn’t right.
A few seconds later, with no blanket in hand, Damian let out a long whine, curling into himself.
Then, a warm presence came to rest on his shoulder.
He pressed himself closer before going still, sighing as the warmth began pressing rhythmically against him. As Damian fell back into unconsciousness, the feeling changed, the calming kneading giving way to a comforting, rumbling sound.
Dick woke up to the unmistakable feeling of eyes boring into him.
His eyes opened, turning slowly to face the rest of the room.
They immediately settled on the yellow eyes across the room.
With a sharp intake of breath, Dick’s mind supplied an answer.
Talon.
Dick’s body coiled tight, muscles locking as his hand slid toward the knife on his nightstand—then his heart dropped.
Damian was sick. Very sick. He could barely keep water down. He had been feverish and confused all day.
Damian wasn’t going to be able to fight. Wouldn’t have the strength for it.
What if he didn’t even wake up?
He stood no chance—
When the yellow shifted, Dick shot up, knife in hand, and launched himself forward.
He braced himself when the eyes sprang toward him.
Dick barely had the restraint to stop himself from swinging the knife down when the yellow eyes dropped off the dresser and settled at his feet, a familiar meow breaking the silence.
Dick let out a long, loud breath, crouching down and letting his head hang between his legs as he caught his breath.
“I swear to God, Alfred...” he mumbled breathlessly.
Alfred meowed again, rubbing against his knee before heading to his doorway, staring back at him.
Thank fuck.
Dick stood back to his full height, setting his knife on the dresser before following after Alfred—who was already slinking into the crack in Damian’s door—to check on Damian.
Dick pushed the door open, making his way to Damian’s bedside, flicking the bedside lamp on and putting it on the dimmest setting.
Dick took immediate notice of Damian’s breathing, which was loud and heavy, and how he was shivering violently. Dick gingerly rested his hand on Damian’s forehead and—oh fuck. His skin was burning against Dick’s hand.
No, Dick was not adept with measuring temperature with his hands, but he knew damn well that whatever temperature Damian was at, it was too much.
He began to panic, speed walking to the bathroom to collect the thermometer before rushing back.
While Damian slept, Dick slid the thermometer into his mouth, taking care to get it underneath his tongue. Once he was sure it wouldn’t fall out, Dick was hurrying to the kitchen, shoving a washcloth into the pockets of his pajama pants and filling a bowl with cool water before carefully returning.
With the bowl safely on the nightstand, Dick pulled the thermometer out of Damian’s mouth and squinted down at the flashing display.
103.8°F flashed back at him.
It was too high. Not critical.
Yet.
But too high.
It wasn’t supposed to go up. Dick had made the decision not to feed Damian in the hopes that he would keep the medicine down so it could work its magic.
Had Dick made the wrong choice? Would even a few spoonfuls of soup or even a piece of bread have helped?
No. Dick couldn’t focus on that currently.
Dick needed to start cooling Damian off now, or else he was positive that he and Damian would be spending the rest of the night in the emergency room at Gotham General.
Dick pulled the extra blanket off Damian, balling it up and tossing it to the floor before gently pulling the comforter off him as well.
As Dick lifted it back, Damian stirred, a long whine escaping him. His hands caught onto the comforter, shakily holding on and trying to fight back against Dick.
“No— stop—”
With a frown, Dick gently pulled Damian’s fingers off the comforter before dragging it off Damian and to the foot of the bed, a full body shiver wracking through Damian as the air met his skin.
“I know, Dames, I know. Just for a few hours, okay?”
Damian wasn’t aware enough to respond; Damian was, however, slowly reaching a hand down, grabbing the comforter weakly, and then attempting to pull it back over himself. Before Dick could remove Damian’s hand, his weak grasp failed, and his hand slipped off the comforter. With a broken sob, he pulled his hand up to his chest, body curling in on itself.
With the fight seeping out of his body, Dick turned to the bowl of water, pulling the washcloth from his pocket before letting it soak. As Dick wrung the water out, he watched as Damian shivered hard enough to shake the bed, only calming a bit when Alfred pushed herself under Damian’s arms and against his stomach.
Dick then went to set the washcloth on Damian’s forehead, pushing his bangs back before pausing.
Damian’s face was slack, eyes barely open and staring off into the space behind Dick’s head as large, silent tears were rolling down his cheeks, soaking into the pillow he was resting on.
Dick felt something crack in his chest.
He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Damian’s forehead.
“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. I know this sucks so, so bad, but I promise it’ll be better soon. I promise D.”
Dick pulled back enough to set the washcloth on Damian’s forehead, causing another full-body shiver and whine to leave Damian, before walking around the bed and crawling into it beside Damian.
He couldn’t leave. Not after how bad it had gotten. As Dick scooted closer, resting himself beside Damian, the allure of warmth had Damian pressing his back against Dick with the last of his energy before sinking down into the mattress.
With a gentle hand, Dick reached over Damian’s form, rubbing his finger across Damian’s knuckles briefly and then pulling back, curling his arm around Damian’s stomach.
“I got you, Dames. I’ll be right here when you wake up, alright?”
He got no answer.
Dick had shifted to a sitting position, resting against the headboard of Damian’s bed. Damian had shifted throughout the last hour Dick had been present, re-wetting the washcloth periodically, and was now turned towards Dick, pressing his face into Dick’s thigh.
Alfred had moved as well, now stretched out between Damian’s legs, occasionally waking when Dick replaced the washcloth to purr up a storm before falling asleep again.
Dick had rechecked Damian’s fever half an hour ago, grimacing when it had only dropped to 103.2°F. Damian was still gone, having stopped reacting to Dick three washcloth changes ago. Dick could only hope it was Damian finally falling into a deeper sleep and nothing more.
Dick rubbed at his eyes, reaching over Damian to turn the alarm clock towards him. Damian could take another dose of Tylenol in two hours. With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the headboard again, settling his hand on Damian’s head and slowly carding through his hair.
After a few minutes, Dick watched as Alfred woke up, stretched out her limbs, then climbed through the discarded blankets to make her way to Dick’s side. He smiled at her, using his free hand to stroke her back as she crawled into his lap, lying herself down, her tail settling across Damian’s face.
After Alfred had joined Dick and Damian’s two-man cuddle pile, Damian began stirring, slowly turning on his back and blearily opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.
Dick watched as Damian’s eyes slowly looked around before landing and staying on Dick.
“Hey, bud, how do you feel?” Dick whispered, hand sliding down and out of Damian’s hair to cup his face.
Damian didn’t respond, eyes slipping away from Dick to look off to the wall. Dick followed his gaze to the lamp-lit wall before turning back to Damian, “Dames?”
Damian glanced up at Dick, then back to the wall, a tiny, nearly imperceivable smile tugging his lips up. As a few tiny, breathless giggles left him, Dick shot a look at the wall, returning his attention to Damian as his giggles tapered off, his hand weakly grasping Dick’s sweatpants.
“How—” Damian let out another tiny laugh, “How did he get in here?”
Dick’s heart thrummed with panic. Dick sat up straighter, looking back at the wall. There was nothing, no one, there.
“Damian, there isn’t anyone—” Dick was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath, then Damian seemed to muster every ounce of strength left in his body to attempt to sit up.
“No— no, I— I can’t be here.” Damian’s breathing quickened, eyes glued to the other side of the room as he began to try frantically sit himself up fully. Dick sat up straight, arms gently grabbing Damian, shushing him.
“Damian, no one's here. It’s just you and me.”
“Stop!” Damian shrieked, pulling against Dick’s hands, legs kicking out as he squirmed in an attempt to get away.
“Damian—” Dick wrapped his arms around Damian’s middle, making a note to apologize to Alfred, who had to scramble off his lap, trying to get a hold of Damian’s hands, which were now weakly hitting at Dick's arms. Dick pulled Damian to his chest, holding him tightly as he struggled against him.
Once Dick was able to get Damian’s arms pressed securely to his sides, Damian began to thrash against his hold.
“It’s okay,” Dick reassured, keeping his grip firm, even as Damian managed to slam his head back into Dick's chin.
“It’s okay.” Dick comforted as Damian’s body quickly lost strength.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry.” He whispered as Damian’s breathing picked up before turning into loud, broken sobs that were ripped out of his chest, finally going still.
“It's okay.” Dick consoled as Damian’s sobs choked off into hitched breaths.
Once Damian had gone still and silent other than his raspy breathing, Dick loosened his hold, slowly letting his forehead drop against the top of Damian’s head. After a few deep, grounding breaths, Dick eased back, adjusting Damian and tucking him closer before closing his eyes.
Dick woke up to the soft sounds of purring.
He sat up, careful not to wake Damian, who was still curled up into his stomach. Alfred had made her way back into the pile of limbs, now sprawled out against Damian’s back, looking calmly back at Dick.
Dick stretched, letting out a groan when his back popped, before reaching over Damian and collecting the thermometer. He guided it into Damian’s mouth and under his tongue, tossing the now warm and slightly damp washcloth onto the nightstand as he waited. Once it beeped and he carefully pulled it out, Dick let out a breath of relief as 100.2°F flashed back at him.
He then slipped out of the bed, readjusting the crumpled-up sheet so it was back over Damian (and now Alfred, who hadn’t moved away from Damian), and collected the supplies he had brought in last night.
He dumped the water down the kitchen sink, set the bowl in the dishwasher, then tossed the wash rag into the laundry room on his way past. Before he made his way into the hallway, he stopped when he noticed the untouched bowl of cat food.
Dick almost wanted to cry. After the night he just had with Damian, he really didn’t think he had it in him to take care of a sick cat. He walked over, picking up the bowl and dumping the contents into the trash can before replacing it with fresh kibble.
He shook the bowl, waiting for Alfred to come running, but just like the night prior, nothing happened. He walked back to Damian’s room, where Alfred had dug her way out from under the sheet and was now sitting primly on the floor by Damian’s bed. At Dick’s arrival, she stood up, walking over and rubbing against his legs, chirping up at him.
“Here, Alfred, let’s go eat.” Dick turned on his heel, taking a few steps before pausing. Alfred had sat down at the doorframe, wide eyes peering up at him.
What was going on? Dick could tell she was interested. She had been non-stop licking her lips since he came back, yet here she was, sitting firmly down with no intention of moving.
Dick turned back, entered Damian’s room, and set the bowl near his desk. At that, Alfred was immediately up and running over, scarfing down the meal.
Dick just stared, shaking his head fondly before turning back to Damian, who was still fast asleep.
Okay. First order of business, Dick needed to make something for Damian to eat. Soup seemed like the best option, though Dick wasn’t sure if they had any at the moment. He knew they had at the very least chicken broth, but Dick could already see the betrayal on Damian’s face if he fed him an animal product while sick.
Dick supposes he would be ordering in today.
He went back to his room, gathered his phone from off the floor, and went back to Damian, sitting back on the bed and taking care not to wake him.
Once a vegetable soup for Damian and a club sandwich for himself were ordered, Dick focused back on Damian. His eyes were now open, a small frown gracing his face.
“Why are you in here?” He asked, gazing over to Alfred as she hopped onto the bed, quickly joining Damian and rubbing her face against him.
“A little birdie, or I guess a little kitty, came and woke me up last night. Your fever spiked badly, guess the medicine didn’t work that well.”
Damian repositioned Alfred, who was happy to be moved around like a rag doll, so she was lying on his stomach, trapped in his arms. “I remember waking up, but not really anything other than that, and being cold. You were not there, though.”
Dick was actually very happy that Damian couldn’t remember that Dick had to physically restrain him hours earlier. He reached out a hand, ruffling Damian’s hair.
“Guess that was before I came in. Hope you don’t mind that you gained a roommate for the night.”
Damian just shrugged at him, pulling Alfred closer to his face and letting himself settle back down into the mattress.
“I ordered some soup; it should be here soon. I also need to get some more medicine into you so we can hopefully break this fever.” Dick said, smiling at the non-committal grunt Damian gave him in response.
After a stretch of silence, Damian made a huffing noise, “You’re breathing too loud,” he said, cracking open an eye.
Dick huffed out a laugh, peering down at Damian, “Alfred has been purring in your ear for the last 24 hours.”
Damian began petting along Alfred’s side, “That’s different,” he murmured, a tiny smile appearing, “I actually like Alfred.”
Dick let a smile spread across his face, “Yeah, okay.”
Damian shot him another sleepy grin before closing his eyes again.
Dick closed his eyes as well, thankful that Damian was more lucid this morning, albeit most definitely tired and close to falling asleep again.
Dick’s phone then pinged, signaling the arrival of their food, and he sat up, scootching off the bed.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” Dick asked, standing at Damian’s side after having walked around the bed.
“Mhm,” Damian responded, taking a deep breath and pushing his head into Alfred’s stomach.
Dick leaned over, pressing a kiss into Damian’s temple. Damian relaxed further, fingers briefly tightening their hold on Alfred’s fur before loosening again. At that, Dick turned away, leaving to collect their meal.