Prompt: "You're not fine, you're throwing up/coughing up a lung"

"You've reached Dick. I can't come to the phone right now but feel free to leave a message unless you're a journalist." 

Clark hung up before the beep. 

The Justice League was stretched thin at the moment and he needed another person to join him on a mission. He would bring Jon if he didn't have to study for a big exam. Of course, his son offered to call it a one-off but he was firm on making sure schoolwork wasn't affected by superhero work. He went through the list of heroes on call and after Booster, Plasticman and Dr Fate, he was left with Nightwing. Frankly, if Nightwing wasn't available, he'd push off the mission to the others on the list and sit it out. He wanted to spend time with Dick but he also couldn't stand the others.

He didn't think much of it when he was sent to voicemail the first time. Just because someone listed themselves as on call didn't mean they were going to pick up at the drop of a hat. Dick singlehandedly protected Bludhaven and often had multiple cases on the go at one time. He could be working undercover, writing up a risk report or currently on a stakeout. He decided to wait an hour to call back.

Over the day, he tried calling again and again only to be sent to voicemail. It wasn't that he was going straight to voicemail either. It was ringing out so he knew that Dick wasn't picking up because he didn't want to talk. He tried texting here and there but Dick didn't reply. He didn't read them. It was plausible that he'd simply left his phone somewhere or lost it. It was also plausible that something bad had happened.

To put himself at ease, Clark looked up the news in Bludhaven relating to Nightwing. Nothing of concern came up. A few interviews, a clickbait article claiming to have finally unmasked Nightwing but was ultimately trying to sell some AI art app and a report on the lastest crime ring the hero had taken apart. He then tried his luck peeking at hospital records. He wasn't nearly as techy as other heroes so Tim had gifted him some software that gave him the ability to look at hospital intake records just in case he was dealing with an outbreak. Looking at the records also came up with nothing of concern. No intake for Nightwing and no intake for Dick Grayson. The last time he was mentioned on a record was as Dick Grayson being seen in the walk-in clinic for an ear infection three months ago. 

He expected that to settle his nerves but he couldn't shake the feeling of there something being wrong. If it was his own son skipping call after call for whatever reason, he'd find out where Jon was and speak to him. He thought about messaging Dick's family but decided against it. It would only cause a bigger reaction than necessary and if Dick was doing this because he was already overwhelmed, his family wouldn't do much to help that. 

Clark went through the logical explanations, starting with the simplest and ending with the more fanciful ones. Dick lost or misplaced his phone, Dick was busy with something else or Dick was in a place where he couldn't get reception. Those were the simple ones. Then there were other ideas. Dick dropped off the map occasionally, usually after something bad happened either with work or in his personal life. Sometimes he stayed in one place but distanced himself from those around him. There was also the option of him being MIA against his will. 

He checked Twitter this time. Twitter was usually more up-to-date on Nightwing sightings than the formal news sites. The last sighting was posted by a fan page with a caption he didn't quite understand but knew was an innuendo of some sort. That was posted yesterday and Nightwing had even posed for the picture. He looked fine but he could be quite the performer. 

Clark tried one more time and when he was sent to voicemail, he decided to fly over. Even if it turned out to be nothing and he found Dick looking around his apartment for his phone that was inexplicably ringing somewhere out of sight, he'd feel better knowing for sure there was nothing wrong. 

He visited out of costume. Although people were definitely aware that Dick was somehow involved in the hero community either as a funder or supporter, it wouldn't read very well to have Superman climbing through his visit. He knocked on the door. No reply. He tried again, just to be sure and listened out for life inside the apartment. It was difficult to hone in on the heartbeat he'd memorised with all the people surrounding him but he did hear it along with retching. He didn't waste any time using his spare key to enter the apartment.  

When he got inside, he followed the retching that had now been replaced with gasps of air and a toilet flushing to the bathroom. The door had been left open but the lights hadn't been turned on. In the darkness, he saw Dick kneeling by the toilet with his head in his hands. His back was sweaty and his body was shaking worse than a frightened dog. 

"Dick?" Clark called before entering the bathroom. He was thankful that the hero's back was towards him as he couldn't suppress the wince from the stench of vomit. 

"Wha?" Dick muttered, turning slightly to his voice but stopping before they could be face to face. 

"Hey bud, you alright?" There was a heavy pause. "Dick?"

"What're you doing here?" 

"You missed my calls so I came over to make sure you're alright," he explained. On instinct, he reached for a hand towel that was folded by the sink and wet it before holding it against Dick's neck. A sigh of relief thanked him. "How long have you been sick?"

"Since this morning," he answered slowly as though he wasn't entirely sure. "What did you need me for?"

"A mission but-" Dick was already pushing himself onto his feet although he didn't get far with trembling limbs.

"I'm fine, I can go."

"You're not fine, you're throwing up," Clark quickly dismissed as he guided him back down to the floor. He should probably get something for his knees, it couldn't be good for them to be pressed to the tiling for so long. Especially when he still had problems with his left knee from when he was shot. "You haven't been exposed to anything, have you?"

"Nah just a little queasy." 

More than a little queasy. He stood back up and looked for clips or hairbands to tie back Dick's hair. It'd gotten a lot longer and he couldn't imagine it was very fun to panickedly pull it back before he had to throw up again. He found a hair band with incredibly warn elastic and gently pulled the curls back into a low ponytail, not wanting to cause a tension headache by making it too tight. He was briefly sent back to when Lois had morning sickness. She would bat him away, wanting to do it on her own for some reason he still didn't understand and he would tie her hair back with the promise he'd leave her to it unless she changed her mind. He was only a whisper away, he'd tell her. 

"Have you had any water? Any medicine?"

"Didn't bother. I've just been throwing up acid," Dick replied hopelessly. "Woke up needing to vomit and kinda never stopped."

"And you're sure you didn't get exposed to anything?" He shook his head. 

"Didn't get much work last night. Mostly just did crowd work," he said, smirking at the last part. Clark hummed and went to the medicine cabinet. 

He paused when he opened it, shocked by the sheer amount of packets and bottles. He knew being human brought with it the need for various medications that kept you working. He recognised vitamins and supplements Lois swore by. There were others he hadn't seen before with exceedingly long names. Some said to take as needed others said twice a day with food and another batch said to take once a week. It overwhelmed him for a second and he didn't even know where to start looking for something to help with the nausea.

"There's some Maxolon on the bottom left," Dick said when he noticed the lack of noise. He spotted it and fetched a glass from the kitchen to fill up with water. He took a second to open the freezer and thankfully found some ice cubes. He went through a few cupboards before eventually finding a bowl and crushed the ice cubes so they resembled chips. Dick wouldn't want any food right now and if he didn't end up keeping down the Maxolon then he'd struggle with keeping hydrated too. Ice chips might keep him from a hospital visit.

When he came back, Dick had turned so his back now rested on the bathtub and his eyes were set on the open medicine cabinet. Clark didn't say anything about it as he knelt down to hand him the bowl, water and packet of pills. The bathroom was small so he took to leaning against the doorframe to not crowd the acrobat any further. He wondered if he should call the Watchtower and take both himself and Dick off the on-call list but he didn't want to be presumptuous about taking himself off. Dick was an adult and although he was sick, that didn't mean he'd want someone lingering around. 

"You need to go on your mission," Dick said after a moment.

"I don't. I can hand it off to the others on call."

"Who are?"

"Booster, Dr Fate and Plasticman." The acrobat smirked knowingly. "There's nothing wrong with their work."

"Yeah, the problem is them."

"They're good heroes just not the best company." That was an understatement, they silently agreed. He chewed on a few ice chips slowly then squinted at the bowl. 

"I don't have ice chips," he mumbled as he looked up to Clark.

"They're not hard to make and much better than sucking on a whole ice cube." 

"Damian eats whole ice cubes. I swear he doesn't even like it, he just does it to intimidate people."

"Jon told me about that. He asked if there was a way to turn off his superhearing," Clark responded with a fond chuckle. The acrobat cackled to himself. "Do you want to try going to bed? You might settle better."

"I like the cold floor," he defended. He crunched on another ice chip before setting the bowl down. "Guess I should try though. Not great on the joints." He grabbed the side lip of the bathtub and pushed himself up to his feet, his knees almost buckling under the pressure. He grabbed onto the wall to steady himself before Clark couldn't help but jump in to offer an arm. "Thanks."

"It's okay," Clark assured him. Dick closed the medicine cabinet on the way out and went to the bedroom where he sat down on the edge. It was then that Clark actually took in what he was wearing. A pair of Superman pyjama pants. "Nice pants."

"What can I say, I have great fashion sense." He carefully pushed himself so his back was against the headboard and he took a deep breath. "Do you even get royalties on your merch?"

"I think it's public domain," the alien responded as he looked for a bin in case Dick needed to throw up again. 

"B made us trademark our names. I don't enforce it though. There's this great wings place called night wings. They have a blue sauce."

"Are you sure that didn't make you sick?"

"Nah, I have a stomach of steel."

Clark made himself busy getting all the supplies Dick would need to ride out the bug. Hopefully, the worst was over but he couldn't be too sure. He returned the bowl of ice chips and refilled the glass of water. Then he went in search of Sprite or ginger beer but had to settle on sparkling water with Barbara's name written on it. She wouldn't mind given the circumstances. He found a box of crackers that were a month from going out of date which was mildly impressive given the shelf life and added them to the cluster of supplies. He made some tea too after finding an extensive collection. 

He passed the bathroom a few times as he scavenged things and couldn't help but glance to the cabinet every time. Some of them needed to be taken every day so should he grab those too or was that a breach of privacy? He'd already toed the line opening the cabinet without permission and he didn't feel great about rummaging through it. Perhaps he should ask but he felt awkward and wasn't sure how he'd word it without sounding curious. It was natural to be curious but that didn't mean he should show it.

Once he felt satisfied that Dick had everything he needed for the moment, he stood listlessly by the end of the bed. 

"You wanna talk about the medicine cabinet, don't you?"

"No," he answered instantly, too eager to be truthful. The acrobat shook his head almost fondly as he sipped at his tea.

"Clark."

"Okay, maybe a little. I've just not seen that many bottles before. I thought Lois was bad with the pre-natal stuff but you've got a mini pharmacy in there," he admitted. "Some of it says to take a few a day and you obviously haven't taken it. I'm worried."

"Most of it is leftovers from injuries," Dick soothed. "I don't end up taking all the painkillers so I store it in there in case I need it or until I throw it out."

"And the others?"

"Antidepressants, anti-psychotics, a couple of things for various aches and pains. I can skip a day and not lose my head if that's what you're after."

"I can get you them," he offered. "I can't imagine they're good to skip." Dick opened the bedside drawer and brought out a pill box with days. The first few were empty but today's were full. It practically bulged at the amount.

"All that?"

"All that. The green ones are vitamins, the yellowish ones are vitamin D and all the white ones are the other ones. I usually take 'em all seagull style but I think I might have to go one at a time."

"I can stay if you want," Clark stated out of the blue. "I'd have to make a call to the tower but that's it. Lois will be fine with Jon, he's studying for something. I'm not needed tonight."

"I'd like that."

"Seriously, it's no trouble and- wait, did you say yes?"

"I did. I know I've got a reputation for being a shitty patient but right now I don't have the energy and I really don't want to vomit on these sheets. Sheets are so expensive now, why is it like forty dollars to get normal sheets?" Clark laughed and shrugged. It wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend time with the kid he saw grow up but it would do.