Prompt: "Who decided *insert food* is sick people food?"

I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR

Damian had decided early on in his life that he wouldn't get sick. At the ripe age of five, he had caught a rather ugly strain of the flu and was stuck in bed for days only living off the plain broth he was served. He'd grown up with a rich variety of foods that contained an amazing array of spices to live off something as simple as broth was another kick to the gut. The thought of getting sick again and going back to the awful broth was enough for him to decide that sickness wasn't for him and it wouldn't happen henceforth. He'd done rather well, only getting a few one-day stomach bugs and stuffy noses but he wasn't stupid enough to think it would never happen, especially with the newfound stress of losing his father.

A month after Bruce was deemed dead, Damian woke up feeling disgusting. He was both warm and cold at the same time with additional layers making the warmth worse and cold showers making the cold worse. There was no winning. He caught himself in the mirror as he prepared himself for school and found a horrible sickly version of himself staring back. Desaturated skin, clammy and exhausted despite sleeping in a considerable amount. His stomach swirled like a boat on Lake Superior and his mouth swelled with saliva at the thought of brushing his teeth. He decided to get a mint later to freshen up his breath. 

For some reason, as he inspected his appearance in the reflection, he started thinking about his mother. She wasn't overt in shows of care but even she would look at him with concern and subtly suggest to his grandfather to go easy on him today. Would she care now, he asked himself. Would she be different had she not been part of the league? Maybe she would make him something for him or cup his face to get a better look. He hadn't seen her in so long. Her voice in his mind had a slight fuzz to it and he was horrified at the thought of forgetting her cadences and eventually, her voice overall. He was already forgetting the few soft touches he received. His eyes stung and he quickly wiped at them. No, he wasn't going to cry. Damian does not cry and he does not get sick. He was completely fine. 

He didn't look forward to breakfast despite knowing it would only be filled with his favourites but he still trudged down to his seat, trying his best to get over the weird solemn feeling that had settled alongside the queasiness.

Dick was always a few minutes late to breakfast mostly because he took extra care in his appearance even for his family. Personally, he found it silly but he supposed it cut out the extra time it would take to prepare himself after breakfast. At least today it got him a few moments to compose himself. Alfred had already set the table and sent him a concerned look when he didn't jump to plate something for himself. He didn't say anything though which Damian was grateful for. He doubted Dick would do the same being the mother hen that he was. Jason's words, not his own. He would call it being overbearing which had become his default description of the older. 

That solemn feeling stirred when he thought about that description. Was it overbearing or was it simply a care he hadn't known before? He swallowed thickly. It was embarrassing enough to cry in the privacy of his own bathroom but even more embarrassing to do so where anyone could see him. He didn't understand why he was so emotional this morning but he certainly didn't like it.

When Dick made his appearance, he did so with a grin and sat down beside Damian rather than taking any of the other free seats. It always struck him as odd but that was Dick. He immediately poured coffee into his mug. He took it black with the maximum amount of sugar you could take before it refused to dissolve any further. He took a swig and then seemed to acknowledge there was nothing on Damian's plate.

"I thought we talked about this. You serve yourself at breakfast and then Alfred serves you dinner."

"I'm perfectly aware," Damian replied. He hadn't realised his voice was scratchy until the first word was out and by then, it was too late to stop without causing more suspicion about his health. 

"You okay?" He nodded. Had he been feeling any better, he would've anticipated the hand suddenly going against his forehead and Dick's smile turning into a worried frown. "Oh bud, you're boiling. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"Because I don't get sick."

"Then either you're sick or you've mutated overnight. I think I know which one I prefer." He rolled his eyes. Part of him wanted to slap the hand away but it was nice having a cool temperature there. Not too hot and not too cold. His mother's hands were the same way. "Alfred?" Dick called.

"Yes, Master Dick?"

"Could you get me a thermometer and some painkillers for Dami? I think you better scrap tonight's dinner too." The butler nodded before reappearing with the requested supplies. A thermometer was popped into Damian's mouth and beeped. Dick whistled before reading it out. "100.7. You've got a fever so that's no school for you. Take those and then head to bed. Alfred, could you help him get into something more comfortable?"

"I can dress myself."

"I'm aware," Dick responded. "But I'd feel better if someone was with you in case you keel over. I'll bring you up some toast too. I don't believe in that starve-a-fever crap." Damian huffed but he wasn't all that unhappy with the new plan for the day. It was hard enough dealing with silver spoon idiots on good days let alone when he felt sick. He also couldn't shake the small part of him that was pleased with the worry. Better not think about that too much.

Sick days were an unfamiliar concept to Damian, at least sick days that weren't because his body was failing him were unfamiliar. He was redressed into new pyjamas and got into bed as Alfred had ordered. He immediately felt like he was doing something wrong. There was nothing wrong with his brain that would prevent him from doing work as he could still do the beginning of an investigation even if he couldn't go out to put a stop to the crime. Maybe this was a punishment although it wasn't really in Dick's nature to give a punishment that didn't directly relate to the action. Unless a consequence of being too sick to eat was sitting alone to think if he really was that sick or if he was putting it on for sympathy, again, it didn't make much sense for Dick. He was a sappy individual and Damian suspected if he even hinted at wanted some sort of comfort, he'd come bounding over like an over-excited golden retriever.

Dick came in a few moments later with a plate of toast and a water bottle. He smiled warmly so this definitely wasn't a punishment. He was always mad when he gave those and wore a deep scowl that showed his age. It wasn't half the scowl that Bruce had but Damian could see the similarities well enough to hate the expression. He took the toast silently and watched the acrobat as he dipped into the bathroom, returning with a damp towel that he placed over his forehead. Damian's body relaxed slightly at the coolness despite being a little uncomfortable with having a wet rag on his face. He glanced up at Dick, trying to get a read of him but ultimately failing to do so.

Something odd stirred in him. A need to have someone there and know that Dick was the best person to keep around. There was also a want to have his father and mother with him although he'd never seen them together. He doubted they would do well together but his mind overpowered his logic by supplying him with false memories of the pair taking care of him, putting their differences aside because they both wanted him to get better. 

"Grayson," he began.

Don't go.

Tell me what I'm supposed to do.

I don't know how to be sick.

You're the only one to show me grace when I'm sick. Thank you.

I'm sorry I'm horrible to you. I'm sorry you show me empathy when I don't do the same.

I want my mother. 

I want my father.

I want my grandfather.

I need you to stay with me.

"Who decided soup is sick people's food?" he asked, teary-eyed from what went unsaid. Dick's smile faltered for a moment likely due to his weird emotional state and he slowly sat down beside him. 

"Uhm, I guess sick people did. Soup is always good. It's basically a drink so it's easy to eat and there's a shit tonne of nutrients in there. There's a tonne of different types too," he answered awkwardly, clearly caught off guard. Damian's bottom lip trembled and he quickly jumped to rectify whatever he'd done wrong. "But you don't have to have soup!"

"I don't want soup."

"That's okay, there's plenty of other sick foods. I mean, toast is one you can have more toast. Or you could have uhm some broth unless that's also a soup? Is it a soup? Spicy food might help but I don't know if you're throw up sick or sinus sick. We can sack all that off and you can have something you want like a favourite food or something?"

"I want you," he said, his voice trembling. "I don't know what I want from you but I want you here to- to do something." Dick's panicked confusion softened into a sweet expression that had Damian wanting to reach out and be held. 

"Oh, Dami, what am I going to do with you?"

"I don't know." The acrobat moved so he was lying beside Damian and pulled him into a hug. It should've been too overwhelming to have someone else's body heat against his own but instead, it warmed him just right. He leaned into it against his better judgement and tightly held onto the older. "What's wrong with me? Have I been exposed to something?"

"You're sick," Dick said. "When you're sick, your body is too busy fighting it off to worry about your emotions."

"That's not scientific in the slightest."

"Science schmience," he teased, gaining a quiet snort. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I don't know what I should talk about."

"Well, when you said you wanted me, what were you thinking?" 

Times like this had Damian pleased with Dick's emotional knowledge. Most of the time the compassion made him cringe away and ask how on earth anybody, especially Bruce, dealt with him for so long. Now, he understood why. 

"I missed my mother and father," he stated slowly. 

"I get that."

"You do?" Then he mentally slapped himself. Of course, Dick knew. He lost his parents and then lost Bruce. He may not always show respect to the older's place in the family but that didn't mean he was unaware of it. He just didn't like that someone who didn't share blood got to have more time with his father than he ever had. 

"When I got sick the first time after I lost my parents, I was a mess. You would've hated it."

"I'm sure I would."

"Sometimes it takes being sick to get in your feels. Especially when you push it down," he continued. "I know we haven't spoken about what happened with B a lot but if you ever want to, I'm here. I've got plenty of stories if you want to hear them."

"What if you become my Bruce and then you disappear?" Damian asked.

"I'd make sure you'd know I loved you."

"Why do you love me?"

"You're smart and you've got a sense of humour even if you pretend you're serious all the time. You're great with animals and your drawings are really amazing. You do this thing when you're annoyed where you scrunch up your nose. It looks like when kittens hiss," he listed off with such ease that Damian was unsure if he'd been prepping for this question. "I know you push me away a lot but I think that's because you're just not used to someone like me. I know you though. You're everything that I loved about Bruce."

"I miss him which is stupid. He sent me away."

"He did what he thought was best at the time. You were struggling, unsure of your place here and I don't think being suddenly thrust into the other side of the extreme you were used to wouldn't have helped."

"Do you think he loved me?"

"Damian, without a shadow of a doubt Bruce loved you." Tears prickled at his eyes but he once again pushed the feeling away, instead sniffling. 

"I think I would like some soup."

"I'll get you some soup."

"Not now though."

"No, not now." They shared a nice moment of quiet. "Can I say something?"

"Okay."

"I thought I triggered a soup-related trauma before. I got really worried we'd have to take soup off the menu. I quite like soup."

"I didn't like it before but I think I like it now."