We all should stan Barbemeli for dealing with me during my stressed and sad phase before exams 

EDIT: TW VOMIT

Edited 13/02/2024: format changed and some additions

"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.

Dick fell asleep quickly thanks to using up all his energy both trying and failing to stop himself from throwing up. His brothers brought their things to occupy their attention when they weren't watching him. After all, they were just watching him sleep for an hour at a time and none of them had the attention span nor the want to stare at the equivalent of paint drying. 

"I don't see why we all had to stay here," Damian complained. His voice was hushed to not wake Dick, even though he'd been so tired he'd sleep through a fire alarm and an earthquake combined. He was a light sleeper but always slept deeper when he was sick as though his body was desperately trying to catch up on all the rest it had previously lost.

"It's a precaution. There should be at least one of us awake just in case," Tim responded. He glanced back at Jason who was curled up in a chair and out like a light, daring to snore obnoxiously. No wonder Bruce chose to have them all stay at home. 

"It's not fair. I'm meant to be investigating cases. I'm not a babysitter."

"Funny because you're sounding a lot like a baby in need of a sitter right now," Tim teased. He rolled his eyes with a tut.

All was quiet for a while until it got to Jason's shift. He was almost as hyperactive as Dick and watching him sleep in a semi-dark room wasn't going to keep him quiet for long or keep him awake despite his nap.

"Why do you think he's so freaked out by hospitals and needles?" he asked.

"Not every fear has something behind it. Maybe he's just freaked out by them in general," Tim reasoned. It was a valuable point. Sometimes people just get freaked out by certain things like how people had fears of clowns and thunderstorms. Things they have no reason to be afraid of since they never experienced a traumatizing event involving said fear. 

"No irrational fear can be that strong. If this had been something severe, he may not have had that chance to come clean," Damian argued. Of course, he had to contradict Tim at every turn. If he didn't there was something horribly wrong and they were all on the brink of death. 

"This is Dick we're talking about. He's the most extra kid in the world when it comes to hiding things. He'd hide being decapitated if he could," Jason reasoned. He wouldn't put it past the acrobat to take an irrational fear to the extreme as long as it made even a lick of sense to him and nobody else. However, that didn't stop him from thinking of alternative theories. "Here's my theory, he was part of a secret government trial which gave him pow-"

"Not everything has a conspiracy behind it," Tim interrupted. Although, it would be sort of cool if Dick had some secret powers thanks to a few experiments that they were yet to discover. The younger huffed. 

"A conspiracy theory is a lot more interesting than 'he's just like that' in my books," he complained.

They continued to sit in silence. There wasn't much else they could do after all. 

Then, they heard a whimper escape Dick's lips. They exchanged a few glances, all wondering whether they had mistaken something to be coming from him or he was actually in need of help. He moved his legs quickly. 

"Maybe he's just getting comfortable," Jason suggested. That didn't stop them fearing the worst, however. A nightmare was the last thing he needed. His small hands gripped at the bedsheets and his once peaceful expression was long gone. The movement of his legs turned into occasional sharp kicks. Tim got up and began to stroke his hair, hoping the motion would soothe him back into a tame slumber. 

"Everything's okay. You're safe," he assured the younger. The kicking slowly died down and they thought the nightmare had passed. Tim backed away, sighing with relief. That relief was swiftly destroyed when the kicking came back and soothing him to sleep became an impossible task. 

"He might calm down in a minute," Damian suggested. His suggestion was harder to take seriously when his brother began to mumble harsh no's in his sleep. 

"When has that ever happened?" Jason deadpanned, rejecting the suggestion. "Should we wake him up?"

"I thought that was a bad thing," Tim argued. "Damian, Google it."

Suddenly, Dick's body contorted and he accidentally pulled the needle out of his arm from the jerking movement. Jason and Tim exchanged panicked looks and then stared at Damian for their answer. 

"Google says we're good to wake him up," Damian announced, looking up from his phone. Tim nodded and told Jason to hold him down whilst he tried to wake him up. They didn't need him getting any more injuries from thrashing around like a fish out of water.

"Dick everything's okay. Just wake up for me," he began. It took a few renditions of this phrase for Dick's eyes to finally open. He was thrust into a world of confusion until that awkward phase of not quite awake yet not quite asleep ended and he recognised his surroundings. Most notably, he noticed his brother holding him down. 

"Get off me Jay, you weigh a tonne," he complained, kicking him off. The older grumbled and climbed down from the bed.

"You're lucky you're sick or you'd be in a headlock right now," Jason snapped back. He rolled his eyes, regretting it when the world spun around and nausea hit him like a truck. He was thankful he didn't throw up immediately. 

"Try me."

"Cut it out both of you," Damian ordered from across the room.

Tim picked up the needle that was now hanging from the drip, stained with the young hero's blood. 

"Hold still," he told the younger. He gently grabbed his arm and got ready to reinsert the drip. It wasn't rocket science after all. There shouldn't be too many complications and it was only out for a minute. (Leslie would later cringe upon hearing he had neither replaced nor cleaned the needle before trying to reinsert it.)

"What? Why?" Dick asked suspiciously before setting eyes on the needle. He snatched his arm away and shuffled to create distance between them as he hugged the limb to his chest. "No way! I don't want that thing back in my body. I didn't even want it the first time," he exclaimed. 

"But you need to finish the bag or you'll only get sicker," Tim explained. He supposed it was rather stupid to think the boy would allow him to do something he was shouting in protest about earlier. He had hoped he would be too tired to fight it this time but he supposed he was too optimistic.

"I don't care!" he replied, folding his arms angrily. How dare Tim try to convince him sticking a piece of metal into his body was worth it? How very dare he attempt to make his life any easier? They were supposed to be brothers. 

"Dick please, just let me put the drip back in. I promise I won't hurt you."

"But it hurt me last time and Leslie is a doctor!"

"Grayson has a point," Damian muttered.

"Not helping!"

The argument raged on until Dick started to feel really sick. He didn't know if that was because he was still dehydrated or because his body was punishing him for not sleeping the sickness off. Either way, he was getting warning signs that he was going to throw up and he really didn't want to ruin the expensive bedsheets Bruce insisted on providing him. 

"Pass me the bin," he requested softly, afraid that speaking any louder would cause the bile to make an unwelcome appearance. Tim passed the small grey can just in time. Whilst the sound of Dick heaving filled the room, Tim got an idea. He had to act faster than The Flash himself but it just might work. He tightened his grip on the needle, grabbed Dick's arm in a tight hold then pierced the small bloodied spot where it had once laid flush against the flesh. The boy squealed in pain whilst coughing up whatever water he'd managed to withhold previously mixed with the vivid colours only stomach acid could produce. (I never thought I'd describe sick in so much detail.) "That was dirty," he complained, passing back the bin.

"Sometimes you have to play dirty," Tim said. He was tempted to apologize but by the softening of his brother's features, his anger was short-lived anyway. 

"I'll remind you of that when we play Mario Kart," Jason commented as he passed Dick some water.

"Blue shells are cheating and you know it," he snapped back. Dick let out a tired giggle before laying back down, too tired to keep himself upright.

"I'm guessing you're not feeling any better?" Damian asked, striding across the room to be with his baby brother. He felt a sort of affinity with the youngest of their family. He saw a small part of himself in the stubbornness and need for independence Dick had. Seeing him suffer through anything from stomach ache to torture ripped him up inside even if he didn't show it outwardly. He'd never been good at just letting life do what it wants. 

"I was fine till the nightmare but isn't that always the case?" Dick replied quietly. His voice had regained the hoarseness it held once before. He let out a yawn and it took all their might not to coo at how cute it was. They knew from the last time they did it that it wouldn't go over well and they quite liked their things not going missing.

"Get some sleep, Grayson. We'll be here if you need anything." Dick nodded, drifting off to sleep as quickly as he'd been ripped from it. 

They sat in silence for a while, watching him sleep, all while being ready to jump up in an instant to calm him down from an unexpected nightmare. They'd stay up all night if it meant he could sleep off whatever this sickness was. They supposed that's what brothers do even if they throw a blue shell at you in Mario Kart. 

Was this enough to forgive me?