Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Widower stood over him with a malicious look on his face. “The Council of Spiders thanks you for your participation in the game.” Tim could feel the blood draining from him. Z laid dead next to Owens. He would end up just like them and Pru would follow suit. Tim wouldn’t be able to save Bruce. Tim would fail him. He would fail his brothers, his sister, his friends, Alfred. He had already let down Z and Owens. Tim would die surrounded by assassins knowing that he failed.

The blood from the wound he had sustained had created a pool around him. The coarse sand felt like hell on his burning skin. The air smelled of death and rot. “This was it” He thought numbly. His whole mission as Robin was to protect Bruce and the ones he held dear but he couldn’t even protect himself. The world began to fade. “Did you find what you were looking for Timothy?” Someone spoke. It sounded like his mother but that couldn’t be right. His mother was dead; Just like he would be.

FAILURE flashed across Tim’s eyes more times than he could count. A single wet tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m sorry Bruce. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you this time.” Tim whispered as the world became black.

Tim gasped as he awoke in a cold sweat. He glanced around his room quickly scanning for Ra’s. He was supposed to be looming over Tim. Explaining how Ra’s had found him and what had happened but Tim didn’t see anyone. He wasn’t in the desert or at the hotel or in the LOA base. He was home, safe. It was just a nightmare. Tim didn’t die. He didn’t fail. He had saved Bruce and all that he loved. Tim did it.

He decided that falling asleep wouldn’t be the best idea so he pulled himself out of bed, careful of his wrist that he injured on patrol. He glanced over to the alarm clock on his desk. 2:30. Great.

Walking down to the kitchen felt good. Like a reassurance that he was home. He threw on the light and went for the cupboard with mugs. Tea sounded great right about now. Preferably caffeinated but Tim didn’t really care. He pulled out his favorite mug and started some water on the stove and took a minute to soak up the manor. Home.

“Timmers?” HOLY SHIT! That scared the shit out of Tim. He turned around quickly to see Jason in all his tired glory.

“Jesus Christ Jason! Don’t do that.” Tim whisper-shouted.

“It’s the middle of the night. Why are you up?” Jason asked.

“Nightmare. Decided to make tea.” Tim said tiredly. Jason hummed in response. Speaking off, the kettle began to whistle. Tim made his way to it and poured the water into the mug, grabbing a tea bag out of the organizer.

“Earl Grey? At this time of night?” Jason asked, looking up at Tim. He grunted in response. “Must have been one hell of a nightmare if YOU don’t want to go back to sleep.” Jason paused for a second. “Wanna talk about it?” Tim glanced at Jason.

“Bruce Quest.” Short answers were good. Tim could handle those. “What about you? Why are you up this late anyway?”

“Same as you. Nightmare.” Jason responded somewhat sheepishly. “Tell me about it.” Jason said after a second.

“About what?”

“Your nightmare, The Bruce Quest. I’ve heard snippets but never the full thing.” There was a reason Jason had only ever heard snippets. Tim had never found a reason to talk about it but maybe doing so would calm Jason after his nightmare. Tim considered it for a second.

“Ok.” He finally said. Jason waited anticipatingly. Tim regaled his whole nightmare to Jason. “Then I woke up.” Jason stared a little blankly.

“What wound? I never saw your chart be updated from that time period. Wouldn’t you have put it in?” He asked.

“The Widower stabbed me. Lost my spleen because of it.” Tim said. Jason nodded in acknowledgment.

“You should probably add that. Y'know, just in case you come down with Sepsis or some life taking shit.” He was quiet for a beat. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that Tim. Especially alone.” Tim gave a small smile.

“It’s alright. Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” Tim asked. Jason paled a little then spoke.

“I was back in The Lazarus Pit. I was terrified and confused and Talia Al Ghul being the first person I saw when I got out was not helpful. All that combined kinda turned into a trauma soup that’s a perfect breeding ground for nightmares if you know what I mean.” Jason said.

Tim looked at him. Not with pity but with compassion for Jason. “I do. That’s awful Jay.” Tim got out of his seat and wrapped Jason in his arms. “Let me know if this is too much.” Tim whispered from behind Jason. They sat there like that for a long time. At one point Jay turned around to hug Tim back. “They stayed there until Tim went a little slack in Jason’s arms and soft snoring could be heard.

Chapter Text

Alfred let out an exasperated sigh. “Please Master Bruce just rest for the day. It is the weekend afterall.”

“Sorry Alfred. I love you but I’m forced to go to work today.” Bruce says in a hoarse voice. Alfred raised his eyebrow.

“Oh? And who may I ask is making you go to work?” Alfred asked in his skeptical tone. Bruce paused for a moment.

“Alfred, I have loads of work to do. Sharon would kill me if I don’t get her the paperwork on time. So in a way, Sharon is forcing me to go to work.” At the end of his sentence, Brce let out a hacking round of coughs. Once Bruce’s lungs decided to stop assaulting him, Alfred merely passed him a glass of water. Bruce cleared his throat. “Anyway, I best be off.”

“Master Bruce, wait. You have yet to have breakfast and if you insist on going to work like this, I can not let you leave without one good meal.” Alfred said. Bruce couldn’t believe it. He had finally cracked ALFRED PENNYWORTH’s walls down. He was free to go to work whenever and wherever without Alfred chidding him for whatever reason. No more “You broke your leg, Master Bruce stay home from work.” or “Master Bruce please, you were awake all night get 8 hours of sleep then we will talk about going to work.” Nope! He was free at last. It was in Bruce’s dazed excitement that he finally noticed Alfred was on the phone with someone.

“Who was that?” Bruce asked quietly as to not strain his voice.

“Oh none of your concern Master Bruce. Just sit. I will have a nice mug of tea as well as some eggs and bacon ready for you in a few moments. You should be at the office around 8:30.” Alfred spoke in his calm voice. Bruce could hardly contain the smile that grabbed at his lips. No more nagging. Good riddance.

Bruce knew it was too good to be true. He just thought for one second that his loyal butler would not betray him like this. Alas, Bruce should have known better that Alfred Pennyworth does not play with sick bats and birds.

At first everything was normal, Bruce was just gleeful as Alfred placed a mug of mint tea in front of him. The steam did well at clearly his nose and provided comfort for his scratchy throat. The smell of bacon and eggs sizzling on the skillet was heavenly (or so Bruce assumed, despite the tea he was still having trouble with smelling).

It wasn’t until Bruce heard shuffling and muffled shouts from upstairs that he started to become suspicious. All of his kids currently occupying the manor wouldn’t be up until at least 9am and right now it was 7:56am. Bruce couldn’t make out what anyone upstairs was saying (his ears were too clogged for that) until Damian shouted “Really Drake, you couldn’t have just used the door rather than Todd’s bedroom window?!” Well shit. Bruce was doomed.

Once Tim received the call from Alfred about Bruce refusing to acknowledge that he had a bad sinus infection and should take at least 2 days off he was out of the door in seconds. Bruce had always been stubborn but refusing Alfred? Now that was bold.

Tim made his way to the manor in the short span of 17 minutes from Gotham to Bristol. Alfred had told Tim not to spook Bruce as he would know immediately why Tim was there and Bruce would run off as quickly as possible like a little toddler. So instead of the door, Tim began scaling the tree right next to one of the guest bedroom windows. Unfortunately for him, he did not anticipate that someone would be occupying the room. As soon as Tim slipped through the window there was a shout and then a gun trained on him in an instant.

“Jesus Timbit. What the hell are you doing climbing in the window? My window none the less!” Jason yelled. That’s when the door swung open to reveal a frazzled Damian.

“Drake! Todd! What is the cause of the interruption in my sleep?!” Damian shouted. Great, just great.

“Great question Dames. Tim here used my window to break into the manor for whatever reason.” Jason said sarcastically.

“Really Drake, you couldn’t have just used the door rather than Todd’s bedroom window?! I could’ve been asleep but instead I am dealing with you moron.” Damian said, annoyed.

“Would you keep it down? I snuck into this room because I thought no one would be using it. I’m here to corral B back to bed. Alfred said he’s sick with a bug and refuses to rest.” Tim paused. “Jay, why are you here anyway?”

“Cracked ribs.” Jason said plainly.

“Why would Pennyworth call you of all people?” Damian almost sneered. (ALMOST)

“Well you see Baby Brat, I knew Brucve in his most stubborn era. He was awful. It was nearly impossible to get him to go to sleep before 4am and get him to rest when he was sick or hurt. I’ve learned throughout the years how to convince a bat to take care of themselves.” Tim said proudly.

“Hypocrite.” Jason mumbled under his breath. Tim scowled at him.

“Now if you’ll excuse me gentlemen I have shit to do, please return to your slumbers.”

“BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE!” Tim’s voice came. Bruce knew he should run, escape, hide but with how awful he felt and how fast Tim could be when he wanted to, Bruce knew he would never out run Tim. Instead, Bruce became frozen.

Tim marched into the kitchen with the angriest look on his face Bruce had seen in a while. “BRUCE! You have a sinus infection which means you are sick which means you will get others sick if you go to work. So instead of going to work you will march yourself up the stairs and into bed or so help me god I will tell Selina that your weekend away is cancelled.” Tim was determined.

“But Tim…” Bruce whined like a child. “I’m being forced to go to work by the mean old lady named Sharon.”

Tim hardened his stare. “Now.” Yep ok not messing around. Bruce was going. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Alfred sighed a tired sigh. “God lord. Finally, Thank you Master Tim. Would you like some tea?”

Tim gleaned to the kettle and smiled. “Yes please, Alfred.”

Chapter Text

Tim woke up knowing automatically something was wrong. His head was pounding and his throat felt like sand paper. “Sick” Tim’s mind provided. He groaned a little. The universe officially hated him. He had been sick 3 times in the past 6 months. He had successfully hidden that from his family. But those times didn’t feel like this. This felt muggy and awful and like he just wanted to go to bed and die. Tim knew the risks each time he got sick. He knew he should tell his family if he felt like this just in case it turned into sepsis or some shit (stupid lack of spleen).

However, he also knew how his family acts when someone gets sick. When Damian got sick, all hell broke loose. Constant monitoring and reminders every 5 minutes of “getting enough fluids and staying in bed”. (Tim partook in this too if not just to see Damian suffer than because he also cared about the little demon). All that to say, Tim did not want to deal with his family like that. Which meant avoiding them which meant hunkering down in his room until it all passed. No harm done. With that being said, Tim simply silenced his alarm and went back to bed (hopefully never to wake up again)

Tim woke up in a coughing fit. His lungs burned, hot metal iron was being shoved down his throat,someone was sending an ice pick through his head, and a million bricks were on his chest. It felt like forever until the coughing finally subsided. He thought it was over until a split second later a second round of coughing up gross stuff came. It took longer this time until he could finally take in the right amount of oxygen but by that point his head was tingling and someone was knocking on his door. So much for hiding it from his overprotective family.

“Timmers? It sounds like you’re dying in there, you good?” Jason asked from outside his door. Tim was in fact, not good but if Jason was still asking instead of just barging into Tim’s room Tim still might have a chance.

“Not dying. ‘M fine.” Tim said. He winced at how awful and wet his voice sounded. Despite what Tim thought was a very convincing lie Jason swung the door open.

“Yeah, it doesn't sound like it or look like it.” Jason said standing in the doorway.

“How would you know what it looked like? It’s dark and I'm under my covers.” Tim croaked out an attempt of humour.

“Exactally. You’re a furnace and hate sleeping with covers. You prefer just a thin sheet even in winter.” Darn Jason and his knowledge of Tim.

“Yea well ‘M cold so sue me.” Tim really shouldn’t be talking this much. His throat burned with a passion. Jason hummed and closed the door. Tim had gotten away with it. He could die in peace.

That’s what he thought until not even 15 seconds later Jason came back and didn’t even bother knocking this time. He had brought the dreaded thermometer with him too. “Open up Tim.” He said. (How had Jason gotten this close to him without Tim noticing?) Tim knew Jason wouldn’t go away until he let Jason take his darn temperature. Reluctantly, Tim opened his mouth and let Jason slide the thermometer in. A few seconds later, Jason looked at the thermometer with a knowing look.

“You’re going to be in so much trouble with B when he finds out about this one. I mean really Tim, attempting to hide with a fever of 103.2 is insane behavior especially for someone in your situation.” Jason didn’t outright say it but Tim knew he was talking about the damn spleen.

‘You got your temperature now fuck off Jason.” Tim groaned. Luckily for Tim, Jason did indeed fuck off (surprisingly) and Tim was able to fall back asleep.

The next time Tim woke up, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Everything was tingly and no air was getting to his lungs. Hands were rubbing his back and a voice was talking to him in a soothing voice. It took maybe 5 minutes for Tim to regain full control of his breathing and it went back to normal. He slumped against whoever was rubbing his back.

“He’s ok. Call Leslie for me will you chum?” A deep gravely voice asked. Bruce probably. Tim didn’t really care who it was. He was just glad that someone was there. He remembered the time when he had the Flu and Jack and Janet didn’t care. He had cried when they left for Senegal instead of staying with him.

“You’re 6 now Timothy, you should be able to handle yourself easily.” Jack said cooly as Tim coughed up a lung.

“We will be back dear. Try not to dirty the linens with vomit or phlegm.” Janet said.

They grabbed their suitcases as fast as they could and booked it out of there. He had been alone for days until Mrs.Mac came by to deliver food and got him to a doctor. Tears threatened to spill over Tim’s eyes as he thought about that moment. He wasn’t alone right now. He was with Bruce. Not alone. Tim repeated it in his head until Bruce spoke.

“Tim? Leslie is here to give you an examination. Can you sit up for me please?” Tim did not want to sit up. He did anyway. Leslie went through the normal routine of checking temperature and breath sounds. An eternity passed until she came to a conclusion.

“I can’t be 100% until a chest x-ray but I'm pretty sure what we have here is pneumonia.” Leslie said. “Anyway we could move him down to the cave for that?”

“Sure. I’ll bring him down.” Bruce said. They were leaving? But Tim didn’t want to be alone. He whined at the loss of contact as Bruce moved to get up. He then felt himself being lifted and carried somewhere. He was laid on a springing mattress as stuff clicked and whirred around him. At that point, Tim was too exhausted to care so he just let them do whatever they needed.

“Yep. This is definitely pneumonia. I’ll prescribe Amoxicillin and other antibiotics. This could turn into Sepsis or respiratory failure if we’re not careful so call me immediately if anything changes.” Leslie said. Bruce hummed in confirmation.

Damn pneumonia. Damn missing spleen.

Chapter Text

Lex Luthor was supposed to be at a meeting Tim had tomorrow. Tim had many plans on dealing with Lexcorp. He could not wait to see the smug little smile wash away from Lex’s sad little face. That could only happen of course if Tim actually made it to the meeting in the first place. See, he had been feeling quite awful since yesterday night however, Tim was determined to push through it. There was no way in hell he was missing that meeting not for nothing. At least that’s what Tim thought before the itching.

An angry red rash had formed on his face and arms that had quickly developed into itchy blisters. It was like the devil had come down, tried to find a person to set hell upon too and figured that Tim could go without the little bit of happiness who so rarely got and poured itching powder all over Tim’s skin. “Fuck me.” Tim grumbled. This was probably a family matter seeing as Tim did not want the rest of the Batclan to be sick making them unable to perform their duties. Instead of infecting them by going downstairs he simply grabbed his phone and texted the gc.

Tim: Sick. Chickenpox. Don’t come into my room if you don’t wish to get the plague.

Dick: Aww poor baby. Let me know if you need anything!

Damian: Your incompetent immune system has failed you yet again Drake.

Cass: 👍

Bruce: You’re sick?! Coming to your room right now.

Tim rolled his eyes. Bruce Wayne, ultimate helicopter parent when it comes to a sick child. B is the only one brave enough to defy Tim’s guidance on this one. Within a few minutes, the door swung open revealing a Bruce Wayne.

“B. I just said not to come in my room if you don’t want to get the plague. What do you need?” Tim asked exasperated.

“Oh don’t worry about me chum. I sent the others to separate places just to be super safe. It’s just you and me.” Bruce said with a smile. Tim’s heart stopped.

“What about Alfred?” Tim was scared of the answer.

“Well I didn’t want him to get sick either so I told him to go on vacation.” Well-Tim was doomed. There was no way that Bruce was letting Tim out of the house for this meeting (not like he was planning to at this point. I mean really, the Chickenpox couldn’t have come at a worse time for Tim.)

“Bruce, you don’t know how to cook. Plus you could get chickenpox if you’re not careful.” Tim said, trying to talk some sense into Bruce. He looked offended.
“I DO know how to cook. Besides, I got chickenpox when I was younger so I'm immune. Plus, you have a notoriously bad track record of keeping yourself safe when it comes to sicknesses.” He said rather sternly.

“You know what? Fine, but we’re moving to the living room. My room is strictly off limits.” Tim said reluctantly. That made Bruce only slightly suspicious of what was hiding in Tim’s room.

Moving to the living room made Tim only slightly more comfortable. The TV was playing some sort of documentary. Bruce was sitting in the armchair next to the couch while Tim laid down on it. The fabric rubbed against Tim’s skin but it wasn’t like he would be more comfortable anywhere else.

“Tim.” Bruce said except he sounded far away.

“Hmm.” Tim grumbled.

“Stop scratching yourself. You could make it worse.” Tim pulled his head up and looked at his hand. He was scratching while asleep and there was blood under his nails. As soon as he stopped an intense itching feeling came over him. Bruce saw the way Tim’s face twisted and handed him a bottle of calamine lotion. Tim lathered it on his skin and OH sweet release. “Better?” B asked.

“Much.” Tim said, relief flooding his voice.

“Good. I’ll get dinner started and bring you some fever reducers.” Bruce said, walking out of the room. Tim was fully prepared to order Thai and possibly call the fire department.

Tim had dozed off a little when a loud beeping rang in his ears. The itching had come back with a vengeance and the fire alarm was going off. Wait…THE FIRE ALARM WAS GOING OFF!

“Bruce!” Tim called. No response. He pulled his itchy, achy limbs off the couch and made his way to the kitchen. There was a fire in the oven with Bruce grabbing the fire extinguisher.
“What the hell?” Tim asked once the fire alarm had stopped beeping and it was completely out.

“On second thought, maybe I can’t cook.” Bruce said. Tim was barely paying attention at that point. His skin was on fire and he couldn’t resist the urge to scratch. “Stop that.” Bruce chided as he batted Tim’s hand away.

“You set the kitchen, ALFRED’s kitchen on fire and I can’t scratch myself for one measly second?” Tim asked.

“The difference is, you could end up in the hospital if you keep scratching whereas the fire was contained and dealt with by a professional.” Bruce said.

“Oh you’ll end up in the hospital if Alfred finds out you burnt his wallpaper instead of ordering out like any normal person.” Tim said.

“Yes, well Alfred is on vacation. I’ll fix it before then.” B responds. That’s when the door opens.

“Master Bruce! I have returned to obtain my reading glasses.” Alfred calls from the foyer. Tim turned to Bruce.

“You’re screwed. Worst possible timing, am I right?” Tim asked as he began slipping away back towards the living room. He couldn’t help but giggle. Poor Bruce. Tim’ll put ‘Attempted to be a good father’ on his gravestone.