continuation of the sick fic with bruce doing his hardest to be there for the kid

Bruce wasn't sure when he finally got to sleep after talking with Dick but when he awoke, he found the boy still snuggled up close to him but he faced away from him. His focus seemed to be on his phone where he was watching a video. Bruce couldn't tell what he was watching exactly but he'd heard it before so he guessed it was something the kid enjoyed. He'd never really watched anything with Dick, just hoping that most of the content on whatever site he was using was kid friendly. In fact, he couldn't think of a civilian activity they did together that didn't help them with their night jobs or serve a basic human need. They'd gone shopping together for clothes and toys (the latter because Alfred was sick of Dick stealing cutlery to work in place of action figures) but Bruce never played with him nor did he take any interest in the chosen clothes outside of making sure they'd keep him warm. He wouldn't know if the imagery on the shirts were brand names or a TV show or simply a random design that was eye-catching for kids. Whilst he was never asked to engage by the acrobat, he knew deep down that he should be. 

He shifted a little and Dick turned to him curiously, likely seeing if he was actually awake or just moving in his sleep. When they met eyes the boy threw him a smile in a greeting.

"Finally! You've been asleep for ages," he complained. His voice had a slight croak to it as though he'd just woken up although he must've been awake for a while. The billionaire glanced at the alarm clock and found it was just past midday. That wasn't unusual given his night job but he knew that Dick was an early riser and got to terrorising his butler at 7 am sharp. Apparently, at the circus, there was no such thing as a lie in so even if he'd spent the night before beating up criminals he was still going to be up before the sun sometimes. Hopefully, he'd be more appreciative of them when he was older and not so bursting with energy. 

"Can we have that hot chocolate now? It's cold." 

Bruce frowned. It wasn't cold. It was a touch above pleasantly warm. He reached out and pressed the back of his hand against Dick's forehead, frowning when he found a clammy sort of warmth there. Chills and fever weren't good signs especially after being found half frozen in a freezer. Alfred had said it was mild hypothermia but the flu was very common in Gotham with its weather and Dick went to school where it would be easy to pick it up. What if he'd already been showing symptoms prior to being in the freezer? What if he was already prone to coughs and colds and now he had some sort of onset pneumonia? Pneumonia could kill children very easily if left untreated.

"B? You okay?"

"You're ill."

"Whaaat? Me? Sick? No way," the younger replied, very obviously lying. Sometimes he had a silver tongue and other times it was heavy like lead. This was one of the times it was like lead and that must've shown on his mentor's face as he quickly thought up an excuse. "It's probably just from the thick duvet or something."

"But you just said you were cold." There was a pause.

"To get you to make me a hot chocolate, obviously." Bruce, despite himself, couldn't help but smile a little in bemusement. "I promise I'm fine. I've been sitting here perfectly okay for ages whilst you slept. Did you know you snore? You snore. Like an old dog."

"I'm having Alfred check you over," he replied. Dick groaned dramatically and threw himself back against the pillows. For a second his mentor feared a tantrum was afoot but appeared to just be a playful joke judging by the small smile on his face. 

"You're such a worry wart. I was only in the freezer for a little bit." 

Long enough for you to think I wasn't coming to save you, Bruce thought. He didn't say it aloud but something must've flashed across his face as the acrobat patted his arm comfortingly.

"If it'll make you feel better, Alfred can take my temperature. I want hot chocolate first though."

"Alright."

Clad in their pyjamas, the pair ventured into the kitchen to set about making their hot chocolate and were greeted with a disapproving glance from Alfred. Dick scrambled up onto one of the breakfast bar stools and then sat on the breakfast bar. He looked to his mentor expectantly and Bruce thought for a moment if he'd really just been warm from the sheets but he'd also been there for when Dick insisted he didn't have the stomach flu and found him throwing up in the gala's rose bushes. 

"It is far too late in the day to not be dressed," the butler commented as he continued to clean the already immaculate kitchen. "Did you want something?"

"Could you check his temperature?" Alfred gave him a withering look.

"Are you not capable of doing so?" It hadn't occurred to him that this was something that guardians were supposed to do as all his memories had been of Alfred taking his temperature rather than his parents although he supposed that was simply because a significant part of his life with spent without them. He shrugged awkwardly in response. "Honestly sir, it's not that difficult."

"I don't know how to do it," he defended. That wasn't a complete lie. He knew how to take his own temperature but kids were notoriously difficult when it came to all things medical and he didn't know what he was supposed to do to offset that. Alfred seemed to take pity on him as he left to fetch a thermometer and handed it off to Dick who put it underneath his tongue with a huff. 

"He's old enough to take his own now, you just wait for it to beep and read it out for him. I would have thought it would be rather intuitive for you to figure out." The boy popped it in his mouth before staring at his mentor.

"Right. He also wants a hot chocolate."

"No that's something better suited for myself. You'd probably curdle the milk if I allowed you to do it," Alfred teased. "Why did you want to check his temperature in the first place?"

"He said he was cold but he feels too warm and sweaty." Dick made a face at the description but was careful not to be too dramatic about it for fear of knocking the thermometer out of his mouth. "What if he got pneumonia from the freezer?"

"Sir do try to not be so dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic," he grumbled. "It's a real possibility. He was in a freezer dripping wet for far too long."

"He's likely still feeling a chill from it. If he has a fever, then you will give him some ibruphen and he'll be right as rain."

"But what if he isn't?"

"Then we'll take him to a doctor but there's no use catastrophising things we don't know will happen." 

Bruce made a slightly distressed anxious noise that he really should have grown out of doing when he was a teenager but it had remained a habit throughout his life. Whilst he understood that he could be rather pessimistic and think of the worst possible case scenario for everything, he wasn't a fan of being written off as just a worrier. He had every right to be concerned given the circumstances and Dick was so unbelievably small that he couldn't help but think he had to be vulnerable to sickness more so than the average nine year old. What if he once again missed something crucial and something bad happened to Dick? Something he couldn't fix with a hug and an apology? Had he even fixed what happened last night or were they just ignoring it for now so they didn't have to deal with it? Do nine year olds know that's a thing or was Dick just forgiving? 

A tug on his pyjama sleeve made him look down to see the acrobat giving him a reassuring look as though he could sense the spiral. Do kids sense that stuff?

"Isth okay Bruthe," Dick told him, his words obstructed by the thermometer being held underneath his tongue. His attention was soon drawn away by Alfred putting a cup beside him with hot chocolate inside. A few marshmallows had been added too perhaps as a silent comforting gesture after the events of the previous nights. As much as Alfred said that he didn't want to parent Dick in any way and that he was utterly Bruce's responsibility, there was always a grandparent-like relationship there. One that included the most grandparent activity of all time; was sneaking sweets to their grandkids behind their parents' backs. 

"A word of warning sir," Alfre began as he handed him his own mug. His voice dropped slightly to a mutter, one that Dick wouldn't hear when all of his attention was focused on the delicious hot chocolate he couldn't yet have. "Children can sense anxiety in their parental figures."

"I thought that was animals."

"Children too. Especially those who are as emotionally inclined as Dick. Keep that in mind." He was about to contest what that was meant to imply when a beep sounded and Dick quickly took out his thermometer, squinting to read the digital numbers. 

"101. See, no fever," he announced before seizing his hot chocolate. 

"Actually, that is a fever," Bruce informed him. 

"Nuh uh, Mama always says 102 is a fever and that's when I can have medicine. 101 is just running warm and show-worthy." The older pair made a face at that, one that made him squirm uncomfortably under their gaze and concentrate on counting the marshmallows in his drink. They supposed if all your money came from performing with a circus that wasn't all that wealthy, you had to perform even when you weren't 100%. Still, with how dangerous their act was, surely that was at least a little neglectful.

"Dick, out of curiosity, have you had any sort of medical care prior to coming here?" Alfred asked. They hadn't thought to look back into his medical history but they supposed maybe they should have just in case.

"The strong man had been a doctor for ages before he joined us. He set my wrist when I broke it," he explained. "Mr Haley said hospitals were too expensive." Ah. Well, that explained quite a few things. Most notably his ability to present himself with whatever performance was needed or demanded of him. 

"Right well, we don't need to worry about that sort of thing here," Bruce told him. "So you can have medicine when your fever is low so it doesn't get that high."

"And you'll rest for the day. Perhaps this would be a good time for you two to get to know one another."

"I don't know, B probably has a tonne of work to do and I already bothered him last night," Dick argued. The butler looked to Bruce disapprovingly as though to blame him for that thought being put in the acrobat's head. It probably was in some way. 

"You didn't bother me. I would like to spend time with you." Dick seemed surprised by his defence but nodded easily, finishing the last of his chocolate before he had to go back to bed. 

"We could play the game you got me? We can play together now that I have two controllers."

"I got you a game?"

"Yeah a few weeks ago. I said "B can I get Minecraft" and you said "you're supposed to be training" then I said "I will if you get me it" and then you said, "you're the one who wanted to do this not me" and I said "pretty please I'll be quiet if you do" and you said "really?" and I said "I promise" and then you got me the game and disappeared for four hours." Bruce didn't have to look at Alfred to know the older man was giving him a disappointed look. Unfortunately, this seemed to be one of those times when Dick was so preoccupied with explaining something and not paying attention to those around him. "So then I asked "can I get another controller so we can play together" and you said "what?" so I said it again and then you said "fine but you're breaking your promise about being quiet" and I said "but that was four hours ago" and you said "oh" and then you ordered another controller." He hopped down from the counter and put his cup in the sink before looking up at his mentor with a soft smile, completely unaware of the dog house he'd put him in. 

"Uhm, yeah. We can play that. You'll have to explain it to me though."

"Okay!"