Prompt: Clean Sheets/Fresh Pajamas

I guess this can be read as platonic or romantic, tbh I didn't know which way I was going when I was writing it 

No matter how grimey he felt, Dick couldn't find it in himself to leave his bed. He supposed part of that was because he didn't have anyone around to nag him about it. There was no one to remind him how nice it felt to have clean sheets and fresh pyjamas when you felt sick. He could imagine Alfred gently demanding him to have a shower when he felt sick because he'd come back to new sheets and newly laundered pyjamas to change into. Unfortunately, when you live alone, only you can provide those things. Even more unfortunately, he now only had hindsight to see that he should've washed those items before he got sick. 

It wasn't his fault this time. He hadn't worked himself into getting sick and he hadn't pushed himself further with a slight cold only to develop the worst sinus infection known to man. He was sick thanks to a new strain of fear toxin. Thankfully, he was immune to most if not all combinations of chemicals that caused the hallucinations. Instead, he got a bit of a chill and nightmares akin to those on Benadryll. Whilst he hadn't been overcome with fear, whatever chemicals were in the new toxin had reacted unfavourably leading to symptoms more like all the bad parts of appendicitis without the appendix to take out. He had briefly thought it was appendicitis before promptly remembering he'd already had that and was missing the organ thanks to it. 

For two days, he'd been confined to his bed. He had enough warning to know he was in for hell and brought a few bottles of water along with a sleeve of salty crackers to keep at his bedside. The only time he left the bed was to use the bathroom either for the traditional uses for a toilet or to throw up. His company were the quiet video essays he played on his phone and the occasional texts he read but never replied to. He didn't doubt that a few of the people who reached out were worried but he didn't have the energy to assure them he wasn't dead or dying, just sick. Maybe he should reach out. Maybe one of them could get him clean sheets and new pyjamas. Then again, he'd have to actually text them and he'd rather die than look at his screen for more than the few seconds it took to skip an ad or click yes to are you still watching. 

At some point, he'd seen a text from Wally saying he wanted to come over. He didn't really register it nor did he think about how many people were probably asking Wally what was going on with him or if they were nominating someone he couldn't be angry at to do a welfare check. The information washed over him and he turned over. He hadn't been sleeping more so closing his eyes and lying still in hopes of passing out from the pain but never getting the satisfaction of doing so. 

He heard a door open and close but he didn't think much of it. With the videos playing, he assumed it was just a sound effect they were using to drive home a point or create atmosphere. They were probably talking about something he'd be really interested in if his side wasn't killing him and nausea wasn't coming in harsh waves. He curled into a tighter ball and pulled his sheets up to his ears. He could tell that he was running a fever but he was still freezing. Hopefully, the heat exhaustion would offer him the delight of passing out. 

Footsteps followed after the door sound. Again, he assumed it was part of the video even when they grew closer. Absently, he thought it was cool that the sound engineering was so atmospheric when he wasn't wearing earphones. It really sounded like someone was in the room with him. He even felt the slight air change as though someone had opened his bedroom door and let out some of the heat trapped in the room. He shivered and tried to hide further in his comforter.

"You look awful," Wally announced. That definitely wasn't part of the video. Even if he happened to stumble across an essay that utilised interviews made by heroes, he doubted Wally would ever say that to a reporter or on camera. He turned towards the noise and forced his eyes to open, finding a mass standing by his bed. He followed it from the hips up and found Wally watching him with concern. "No seriously, you look like death."

"Feel like it too," he replied but he wasn't sure if it was intelligible. 

"What happened?" Must've been understandable then or Wally had heard enough of his half-asleep ramblings to decipher it.

"Bad reaction," he answered. 

"One hell of a bad reaction." He hummed in agreement. "Have you been there all day?"

"Two," he corrected.

"Not moving?"

"If I can help it."

"You're gonna get bedsores," Wally joked. "You'll feel better after a shower." 

"Don't wanna."

"A bath?"

"Effort." The ginger nodded. It was nice seeing someone understand even if Wally didn't really. He hadn't gotten really sick since he got his powers and even then, if he did get sick, it was for a short period of time. His immune system burned through any virus faster than he could run. 

"What if I helped?"

"Coming onto me, West?"

"You know you're my pass. I can help you in then leave you to it if you're uncomfortable with it."

"Think you've seen my dick more times than you've seen me mentally stable."

"You'd probably be right," he responded. "I mean it though. I know you'd-"

"Can we not bring it up?" Dick snapped. He then sighed and glanced up to see if he'd been too harsh. There was a childish fear that came over him. Terrified he'd said the wrong thing and pushed his only chance at help away forever. Wally still stood there, more concerned but still there for him. "Sorry."

"Don't be dude. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"You were tryna be respectful."

"So, would it be okay if I helped you?"

"You can help me in but you're not scrubbing me down. Enough rumours of us going around," he replied softly. 

Carefully, Wally helped him onto his feet and brought him into the bathroom. He flipped on the light but swiftly turned it back off when Dick burrowed his head into his shoulder to escape the harsh glow. He placed Dick down so he sat on the edge of the tub and glanced around. He found a light on top of the mirror and tried his luck pulling the string, finding it bathed the room in a soft yellow light rather than the clinical white from the big light. 

"Is that better?" he asked. Dick nodded gratefully. He hadn't sat upright in days and found his head was swimming at the change. His stomach churned along with the crashing waves in his brain. It was as though he were seasick without the boat. He bent forward slightly to ease the nausea. "Are you sure this isn't doing anything permanent?" Wally asked before running the water. He wondered if there was a bath bomb or bubble bath mix somewhere then went against the idea. If Dick was sick at just sitting up then the strong smells wouldn't help. 

"What would you count as sure?" the acrobat asked as Wally helped him out of his sweat-soaked shirt. He sighed in relief finally having the damp fabric off his back. He glanced down to where the pain was stemming from, half expecting to see some sort of gross infected cut or distended stomach but there was nothing on the surface to suggest he was really ill. At least, no redness or swelling to indicate a severe infection. 

"Knowing what you're like, 100% would put me at ease."

"Then no, not sure. I'm at a solid like 70. Call it 80."

"I feel like you need it at 100 if you're in this much pain," Wally criticised. "Okay, new plan. I take you to a doctor-"

"- I hate hospitals-"

"Or," he raised his voice so Dick actually considered his next option. "I call someone who can make sure you're not dying."

"You can make sure I'm not dying."

"I'm not a doctor."

"I'd like to think you'd know if I'm dying."

"You don't even know if you're dying!" The acrobat thought about it for a moment but found he had no real answer.

"Fair point. Does it have to be a hospital?" Wally ruminated on the question as he tested the water, finding it lukewarm. He decided to go on the cooler side for temperature since he was pretty sure Dick had a fever. 

"No, I guess not," he replied. Bats always had a stupid amount of medical supplies stashed around in case of emergency. Dick kept the trait, especially when he was living alone. "What about that doc Bruce always gets for you guys? Lestat or something." 

He helped Dick out of his pants and underwear before keeping him steady as he entered the water. Dick's legs were shaky so he all about fell into the bath. He leaned back and relaxed. Wally was always safe for him. He'd feel bashful or uncomfortable had it been anyone else, maybe even a prior girlfriend, but Wally had this ability to keep him calm even when he was panicking too. It just seemed to come easy for speedsters, like their own little extra superpower. 

"Leslie. She's in Gotham."

"I can pick her up."

"I doubt she wants to get piggybacked all the way here," he argued. "She's like, I don't know, as old as Alfred."

"I could piggyback Alfred."

"He'd shoot you. Doesn't have the no kill rule." They chuckled at the thought of him pulling out his vintage shotgun at the suggestion. 

"I'll carry her bridal style then."

"Wally-"

"She'll love it! Everyone loves it. You love it."

"I'm the only one who loves it," he laughed. "You could call her. I have her number on my phone. Give her some warning before you go running over there."

"Will you be alright?"

"Survived this long." The ginger rolled his eyes. 

"Don't die in the bath. EMTs don't need to see what made you the bachelor of Bludhaven." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes.

"Don't keep me waiting."

"I won't."

Again, Dick found himself unsure of how much time had passed. He knew it couldn't be long. It never was with Wally. He was thankful that this time when the world went mushy, he was somewhere soothing. He closed his eyes and let his body bob in the water until he heard a knock. His eyes snapped open and a brief look of terror took over him at the thought of Leslie seeing him with only a few lucky bubbles covering up his birthday suit. Thankfully, it was just Wally. The ginger smirked at him but didn't comment on his expression. 

"Leslie's waiting for you in the bedroom. She gave me one hell of a lecture on leaving you in the bath," he stated as waited by the door with a towel.

"Did she enjoy her piggyback ride?"

"We went with bridal and she hated it. Screamed the entire time." The image of Leslie being anything more than mildly surprised made him giggle. She was a stern woman with nerves of steel after seeing all the things she had in her medical career. She'd probably just raise an eyebrow at finding definitive proof of Mothman or something. "Let's get you out. You're getting all wrinkly."

"Reckon I'll grow old gracefully."

"I'll be happy if you see forty," the speedster muttered.  "You want help?"

"Yeah, thanks." Wally hung the towel on the door handle before hooking an arm under Dick's shoulder and helping him to his feet and then over the bathtub walls. He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around him. Dick raised an eyebrow at how warm it was but didn't question it. The water had cooled significantly as he was waiting so it probably just felt warm in comparison. He laughed when Wally brought the towel up and scrubbed his hair, making his curls stick up at odd angles, before securing it around his waist. "Think it'll be weird if I go out there in a towel."

"It can be her treat."

"Ew," Dick gagged, shoving his friend. "She's known me since I was nine."

"Ah, so it'll just be a show for me then."

"Shut up and help me to the bed."

Leslie stood rather unimpressed by the bed. Her hair that was normally pulled back into a neat bun or ponytail was now frazzled presumably just as much as her nerves. On the bed was her medical bag, a familiar deep brown bag with a clasp. She pulled out a stethoscope and put it around her neck.

"You do look awful," she stated.

"I said he did!" 

"Sit down and tell me what you think this is."

"I know what it is," Dick defended as he sat down. He narrowed his eyes at the bedsheets. They were different to the ones that had been on before. He decided not to keep Leslie waiting though and went onto explain that this was a reaction to a new fear toxin. She nodded along as he spoke before pulling out an ampule and a set of packets containing needle parts. "Uh, what's that?"

"I know which fear toxin you're talking about. Damian was recently exposed to it-"

"Is he okay? He's not sick too is he? I didn't-"

"-and this is the antidote we formulated. It should ease your symptoms even if you don't have the fear part of the toxin," she finished, giving him a glare for interrupting. "And he's fine. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it."

"I've been MIA for two days." She paused. 

"You've been sick for two days after being exposed to an unknown toxin and you didn't think to call me?" she scolded.

"My thoughts exactly," Wally added. They both scowled at him and he held his hands up in surrender, muttering something about laundry before leaving the room lest he fall victim to a suspiciously violent accidental death. 

"I've been pretty out of it."

"Next time, you call someone. Immediately. You're lucky you have such an insistent friend looking out for you." He smiled.

"Yeah, I am." He watched her prep the needle and held out his arm. She swiped the area with an alcohol wipe and sunk the needle into his skin. He grimaced as a weirdly cooling feeling ran through his veins as the substance entered his body.

"You're through the worst of it I suspect. I'll be setting you up an IV though, for hydration and nutrients. Your sorry state for food is enough to tell me you're lacking in it," she told him, her voice disappointed. He withered under her gaze as she began setting up a line from her seemingly endless bag of tricks. "Do you have a doctor here?"

"Not a personal one, no."

"Look into it. I don't want to be put through that experience again. I'm getting a taxi home from here on Bruce's card." She patted him on the shoulder. "I know you mean nothing by it but I worry when you don't seek medical help. I don't want to be the one offering a medical history to a coroner."

"You won't be," he assured her but it wasn't what she was looking for. "I'll call B next time."

"You'll call me. He's overdramatic as it is."

Once the IV was set up, she bid goodbye and refused the offer from Wally to run her back home. He walked her out of the apartment and stayed with her until she got in the taxi, giving the driver a warning to get her home safe or else. He then let himself back into Dick's home and went to the laundry room. Although he didn't have much time to actually wash a set of pyjamas, he did have time to put them on a short drying cycle to give the appearance of a fresh set. He turned off the dryer and headed back to the bedroom, putting them on the bed.

"Did you change my bedsheets?" Dick asked as his eyes narrowed on the pyjamas.

"I did. Also got you some new pyjamas. I thought you'd appreciate them."

"I do. I appreciate you too."

"Dude, of course you do. I'm your best friend and we have like twenty fan edits a day made for us. That's like the biggest sign I'm your best friend." The acrobat cackled lightly. "You're looking better already. When that drip is done, I'll help you change into them."

"Are you mad I didn't say anything?" he asked out of the blue. 

"No, I know you. You always think you're fine when you're not. Can't say the same for everybody though. You had Babs hacking into the FBI database."

"Why would the FBI have me?"

"Well, you're the best female body inspector around." Dick threw a pillow at him but still laughed.