This was a request from Barbemeli so I hope you like it 

This was supposed to come out last night but i fell asleep

Dick - 9

Jason - 12

Tim - 14

Damian - 16

EDIT: TW VOMIT

Edited 08/02/2024: format changes and small additions

"Master Dick, time to get up. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes," Alfred announced through the door. Dick groaned, stirring from a once peaceful sleep only to be met by a wave of unwelcomed nausea. After getting used to the sick feeling through a few deep breaths, he stood up and began getting ready for school. He felt hot like his room was one big oven cooking him to the point of leaving him just a pile of charcoal. Dick had never been a morning person but he suspected his hatred for getting up in the morning wasn't the problem here. 

He got dressed, almost threw up in the process which wasn't great, and picked up his backpack. It felt heavier than usual even though he hadn't added anything to give it that extra weight. In fact, he felt weaker in general. Maybe he was getting ill? Thinking back from nearly throwing up last night's dinner from pulling on pants, he guessed it wasn't so much of 'maybe getting ill' and more so 'he is ill'. That was the last thing anyone needed. A sick Dick wasn't a happy Dick and nobody wanted an unhappy Dick. He decided it was best to keep it to himself; there was no point working everybody up for something out of their control. They had much bigger fish to fry than trying to figure out why he would rather lay facedown in his bed than leave his bedroom.

As he stumbled downstairs and plopped himself down at the breakfast table, he noticed Bruce staring at him intensely like he'd just said the rudest most absurdist sentence in the world.  

"Is there something on my face?" he asked, wiping his lips subconsciously. He hadn't even started eating yet so maybe it was his hair? He knew his hair was wild in the mornings before someone trapped him to brush it through.

"You're looking a little sweaty there, chum," Bruce put carefully. Quick. Think of something. 

"I was doing some warm-ups. Dami suggested I do them in the mornings after patrol so I thought I'd start today," he answered as casually as humanly possible. 

"I'm glad someone in this house takes my advice," Damian commented. He hoped that would be enough to deter any other questions. It wasn't. He should've known Bruce wouldn't stop there. He was stubborn, not stupid; unfortunately. 

"That doesn't explain why you look so pale," Bruce pushed. That would be a little harder to lie about but he gave it the old college try. 

"I've been staying inside during recess lately so I'm not getting the extra sun and we only go out at night. You probably didn't notice since you've been so busy all week," he explained. His mentor hummed, seemingly content with the answers he'd been given but his suspicions didn't seem to disappear like Dick wanted them to.

Soon Alfred came out with breakfast but the young acrobat found himself unable to stomach the look of toast and cereal. When he almost gagged at the smell, he concluded that, yep, he was definitely sick and there was no room to hope it was just his body checking its functions. A small voice in his head said to drop the act and tell the others now. He could have the day off and watch TV all day or sleep until sunset. It would be a nice break from school. That voice was then drowned out by two fears. Doctors and needles. He couldn't risk going to the hospital and having an injection if they thought he looked really sick and needed a check-up.

"Something wrong?" Tim asked, noticing he hadn't taken a bite of his food. Why was everyone so engaged with him today? Dick could only hope that they didn't already know and were just toying with him. 

"I guess the warm-ups messed with my appetite," he lied.

"I'll give you extra lunch money today so you can get something but don't make a habit of this." Dick nodded, happy that the questioning ended as soon as it began. Everything would surely clear up by midday.

Everything was most certainly not cleared up by midday.

What Dick had forgotten as he hobbled into school that morning was his double gym class at the end of the day. He hadn't eaten since the night before, deciding to skip lunch when the smell of that day's meal sent him running to the toilets to dry heave in a stall. Sweat dripped down his face after jogging for only ten minutes, a task he could normally do without breaking the slightest of sweats, and his classmates swore he was paler than a sheet of paper. He overheard a few students betting fruit roll-ups on whether he'd pass out or die in the first or second period of the class. Yet he still persisted in not telling a soul that he was feeling like all the Rogues had taken out their grievances on him. Dick regretted that decision as soon as the sick feeling grew bringing with it a splitting headache and he still had another hour to go. He felt awful in general, spending every spare moment regretting his life decisions. Maybe things would look up after class ended. After all, this double would be his last lesson. Then he'd be able to hide away in his room for hours feeling sorry for himself.

Halfway through a five-minute mile, Dick felt something begin to rise in his throat. 

"Sir, I need to go to the toilet," he said. They let him go instantly, not wanting to clean up his sick from the track. 

Dick rushed to the closest restroom and ran into the first stall he saw then emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. His body lurched forward, trying to get rid of the food that wasn't there. His throat burned from the stomach acid and his eyes watered. At most, he thought he had a bad cold but the off-green-looking mixture staring back at him said otherwise. He sank down to the floor, shivers wracking his body, and he held his head in his hands. Dick thought about skipping the last hour and making his way home now but there was no point. He went through torture with the Joker, he could deal with a little stomach bug. He was determined to make it through the day and he wasn't about to give in. Even if it did feel like his insides were trying to destroy themselves.

Truthfully, Dick didn't know how he survived to the end of the day. He remembered sitting at the side of the toilet, occasionally heaving but nothing coming up, then the school bell rang and it was time to go home. Luckily, walking out in his gym clothes wouldn't create too much suspicion as he always kept them on after a double at the end of the school day. He staggered out of the restroom just as Jason walked by. 

"Since when did you play hooky?" Jason taunted. Dick rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't in there for that long. Wait up whilst I get my bag." He turned to run off when Jason grabbed his arm. 

"Are you feeling okay? You look off." Crap he was going to find out. He'd tell Bruce about this and he'd take him to the hospital. They'd surely find a reason to stab his arm with a needle there. They always did. 

"I'm fine. Great even." The older scrunched up his face, not quite believing him, but let him go anyway. 

"Cheer up a bit then unless you want the others on your back during training." Dick nodded before running off.

Dick thought that he'd be able to disappear into his bedroom when he got home but that wasn't the case. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Damian asked. He had just made it to the stairs when the older questioned him. Reluctantly, he turned around. 

"To my room?"

"You have training for patrol tonight. Since you're already in your gym clothes you may as well start early," he reasoned. Unless Dick wanted to raise suspicion, he had to go along with training. 

He sighed and followed Damian down to the Batcave. His stomach churned at the thought of exercising when his shirt was already sticking to his skin from his sweat and walking was enough to tire him out. There was no way he was going to be able to keep up. They entered the training room where Tim and Jason were already practicing their punches. Bruce sat on the side, doing curls with a weight. 

"Can I sit the first round out? I'm still pretty tired from gym," he asked. He knew it would raise suspicion but he physically couldn't train right now. His stomach was doing flips and he felt dizzier by the second. 

"Sure," Bruce said. He seemed worried and, if he didn't think he was moments from passing out or throwing his guts up, Dick would do something to diminish his worries in fear of finally going to the doctors.

Ten minutes passed and the feeling of pure nausea hit Dick like a ton of bricks. He couldn't stand this anymore. He had to tell someone. He'd convince them not to take him to the doctor. As he was about to call out to his guardian, bile rose up to his throat and he only had mere seconds to choose a place to let it loose. The closest thing to him was a bin, which he kneeled down by and heaved. It was so painful to only throw up bile and tears ended up running down his face. In the panic of hurling, he didn't notice Bruce's presence until he was rubbing circles on his back to comfort him. 

"It's alright chum, I'm here," he said soothingly. A round of shivers racked Dick's small frame before the vomiting died down. "Damian, pass me a bottle of water," Bruce instructed. "Have you had anything to drink today?" Dick shook his head, gladly taking the water to wash away the vile taste in his mouth. "We should get you to the hospital. I don't think drinking water will be enough for you to rehydrate."

"No hospital," Dick whined. He couldn't go to the hospital. They would find a way to keep him in. He'd rather suffer upstairs in his room than stay ten minutes in some sterile ward. 

"But we have to get you to a doctor. You need an IV drip or you'll only get sicker," Tim reasoned but to no avail. He wasn't budging on his no hospital stance and now took up a no doctor or needle stance to boot. 

"How about we compromise? Dr. Thompkins can come here and she'll only use a needle if she has to," Bruce suggested. If things took a turn for the worst he'd have to drag him to the hospital whether he liked it or not. The boy thought for a moment before giving in. He was in no state to argue as much as he'd like to and Leslie was a nice doctor. 

"Fine."

"Dr. Thompkins, how can I help you, Mr. Wayne?" Leslie greeted.

"How did you know it was me?"

"It's flu season and Dick hasn't had his shot. Call it a hunch." He sighed. He knew he shouldn't have let Dick skip those appointments. 

"Well, you'd be right. Dick's severely dehydrated and I suspect he hasn't eaten anything all day. Are you free to set up a drip for me?"

"Why don't you take him to the hospital?" she questioned. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she couldn't be bothered doing her job. Then again, her voice had always been stuck in a monotone whenever she wasn't working with children. 

"He's made it very clear he doesn't like them. You're the only option that won't send him into a full-on freakout." He heard Leslie sigh, presumably rolling her eyes in the process. 

"Pick me up from the office; it'll be faster than trying to get a taxi." He nodded, already getting into the Batmobile. It would be much faster than the limo and they needed the extra time. 

"Boys, take care of your brother. I'll be home as quickly as I can."

Tim picked up Dick and moved him to the med bay with a bin on his lap. He put the back of his hand against his forehead finding it to be too warm for comfort. 

"Why didn't you tell us you were sick? Today must've sucked for you," he commented once Dick was comfortable. 

"I didn't wanna go to hospital." They couldn't help but roll their eyes. Nine-year-old logic would always be a mystery to them. Maybe it was just Dick Grayson's logic they didn't get. 

"You should've told us anyway. Your symptoms have gotten worse since this morning," Damian told him. Had he not been throwing up at the time, Dick would've rebutted. "What's so bad about the hospital? You're fine in the med-bay here and in the Watch Tower plus Mount Justice," he added.

"Maybe ask him questions later. He's a bit busy throwing his guts up," Jason responded. He was trying his best to not scrunch up his nose in disgust. It would only embarrass Dick more if he did show it.

Leslie arrived not too long after being called thanks to the Batmobile and immediately got to work. She'd brought a few bags of fluid with her in a cool container, just in case one wasn't enough. 

"Hey Dick, I heard you're not feeling great," she greeted as she set up an IV. He nodded, coughing up the last of the sick in his throat. "Have you had anything to drink today?" She was using her kid's voice. They all knew it but that didn't stop Dick finding it as comforting. He nodded again. His throat burned, making him decide to forego speaking for as long as possible. "How much did he have?" Leslie asked Bruce after catching onto his chosen silence.

"A bottle's worth, maybe less." She hummed and got the needle ready.

"How many times has he thrown up?" Bruce looked to Dick since they still had no idea what the severity of the situation was. He put up three fingers, making Leslie tut. "You should've drunk more if you were throwing up that badly."

"Plus he had gym class for two hours," Jason added. He received a sharp look from the boy who was currently as pale as the white bed covers. She probably needed to know anyway. 

"It's a good thing you called me then. Two hours on a drip should solve the problem. I would also suggest giving him an energy drink or two to keep his electrolytes up," she explained. "Now you're going to feel a sharp prick in your arm-"

"No needles!" Dick cried, snatching his arm far away from her.

Now here's a problem. How do you rehydrate a kid through IV when he's deathly afraid of needles? You can't give him water orally since it'll take 6-7 hours to get him to a somewhat normal level. That's too long and he'll have to go to hospital eventually. You can't knock the kid out because you're creating more risks for yourself. The only thing you can do is hope those closest to them can calm him down. Luckily for Leslie, Dick's family were more than happy to help. 

"It'll only be for a second," Tim reasoned.

"No, it won't! I don't want needles!" the boy protested. His voice cracked from how hoarse it had gotten but that didn't stop him from refusing treatment. 

"She wouldn't do it if she didn't think it was needed," Damian attempted. The process went on for a good ten minutes, each family member bringing up a reasonable argument and Dick shooting it down with "No needles!" before Leslie came up with an idea.

"How about you sit in Bruce's lap whilst we figure this out?" she suggested. Although slightly suspicious by the suggestion, Dick agreed. Bruce got onto the bed and shifted Dick onto his lap, sweeping the hair out of his eyes in the process. "How was your day Tim?" Leslie asked. He raised an eyebrow at her but recounted his day anyway. Then she asked Jason to do the same thing, which he did. Then Damian. 

As he began to talk about his idiotic classmates who gossiped whilst the teacher was talking, Leslie gently took Dick's arm. He was too distracted by Damian's story to notice her getting out the needle. She worked quickly, knowing it would take seconds for him to whip around and figure out what she had planned. She plunged the sharp metal into his arm, making Dick let out a small whimper. He shot her a look of betrayal followed by an uncomfortable glance at the metal in his forearm. 

"Sorry to trick you but I promise I had to do it," Leslie reasoned. She knew he would hold a grudge towards her for the next few doctor's visits but he'd eventually forgive her. Plus he would only get worse if she didn't do anything. It wasn't like he was going to take having it done in the hospital any lighter. 

"Thank you, Dr. Thompkins," Bruce said. 

"Any time. I suggest you keep a good eye on him tonight; I have a feeling he'll try to pull the IV out at any chance he gets." They chuckled whilst Dick grimaced at the thought of touching it. Only imagining feeling the needle slide out of his arm caused a shiver to run down his spine.

"You were very brave chum," Bruce commented as he tucked his ward into bed. He decided that the med bay wouldn't aid in calming Dick down for the night so they moved him to his bedroom. 

"That's a lie and you know it," he sulked.

"Meh, I thought you'd scream at the least. I'd count what you did as brave," Jason teased. He had placed himself beside Dick so that when his watch shift was over he could fall asleep on something comfy. 

"I don't know if I should be offended by that," the younger responded. 

"Don't listen to him. We'll talk about hiding things like this when you're better." Bruce planted a kiss on his forehead. "Sleep tight, Dick." He smiled back and got into a more comfortable position. "Call me if anything happens. I trust you'll take care of him." The older brothers nodded and then watched him leave for patrol. At least they got a somewhat chilled night.

Brotherly bonding will be found in the next chapter since this got so long