TW: MENTION OF VOMIT

Bruce thought he'd never have to worry about his kid. When he listened to the others talk about their proteges and how it was such a task to get them to do homework, he sat there smug because he didn't have to do that. Dick did his homework and he even went so far as to bring it with him on patrol to make sure he'd get it done. He was so proud of him for taking on responsibilities. There was hardly any arguments over homework and when they were it was usually just because he reminded Dick too many times to complete something without knowing it had already been submitted. Then there were his ward's grades that he flaunted the moment he got the chance to. He knew that his boy was going to get a full ride to university. There was no questioning that the best places in the country were going to beg him to have him join. Bruce hadn't interfered either that was the best part. He just let Dick do his own thing and he was succeeding. Bruce wasn't naive to the world of paying for grades. He knew it went on and he was always slightly disappointed when someone he knew didn't work hard got the same opportunities as his boy but there was nothing that could be done about it. He was just proud of Dick for putting his nose to the grindstone and keeping those grades high. What he found a little weird was the other heroes reactions to him subtly bragging whilst they complained. They would give him looks that he couldn't quite decipher. Some looked sympathetic in some way as though he had no clue and other times there was a flicker of anger then there was this weird mix of something that looked longing. The other reactions made sense in some way. Dick was young so he got why they thought he was getting over their head. They were raising teenagers and he was raising someone who only just turned thirteen. Everyone said the teenage years were hard but he wasn't too worried about them. If he could deal with a newly traumatised orphan who knew a handful of English words, he could deal with a grumpy hormonal teenager. The second reaction made sense too. Here he was bragging about how wonderful his kid was doing whilst they were trying to wrangle theirs in. The longing look took a while to figure out but when he did figure it out, well, he didn't feel like such a great guardian anymore.

Test week was coming up and every teenage hero out there was playing a careful game of Jenga between schoolwork and patrol. The mentors were working on a case together so they thought it fair for their kids to study whilst they went through details. "These past few days have been killer, I can't wait for the weekend," Flash complained during the lull in the conversation. 

"Tell me about it," Green Arrow replied with a sigh. "Roy has been clawing at the walls trying to avoid revising. Says he's naturally smart." Batman listened to the pair talk about their wards struggling with that same smugness he always did. The only thing he'd noticed from his protege is that he wasn't around very much but that was because he was working so diligently. He ran a tight schedule that he was very strict about following. He'd practically done a flip because he'd interrupted the scheduled biology hour to bring him here to study. Nonetheless, he calmed down once he was assured he could still work. Batman was proud of such a work ethic. 

"How's your boy taking it? He looks exhausted," Flash said, grabbing his attention. The speedster tilted his head to the doorway that lead to the room where their wards were working. Wally was highlighting most of the page he was looking at with a disinterested look whilst Roy poked a Boy Wonder who looked desperate to understand what he was reading. It looked half like annoying him for the fun of annoying him and half making sure he hadn't zoned out. Yet Batman shrugged his shoulders after sending his protege a quick glance. 

"He's fine. He's got a schedule to make sure he remembers everything. I thought I'd treat him with a long patrol this weekend." The other adults sent him that look that he didn't know the meaning of. "You're right. He should have a long one on Friday too."

"Dude. You're seeing your kid tap out, right?" Green Arrow asked.

"He's zoning in on his work. He does it all the time," Batman answered confidently. 

"Bruce, kids don't look like that when they're focusing." He rolled his eyes because what did they know about kids focusing. Their kids didn't focus and that's why he had to drag his all the way here to study. "Look, I get it's great your kid is doing well in school but he's not looking too awesome. Maybe you should make him take a break?"

"No breaks!" Dick shouted from the other room. "Nope no, don't need a break. I need to study for this biology test."

"See? He's just dutiful," Batman insisted. "Keep going on with your schedule chum." The other mentors sent each other looks laced with concern but he ignored them. His kid was fine, he assured himself. Dick was concentrating on his studies and he's proud of him for everything that he's achieved. Besides, there was no way anyone could study too much. Right?

It was Friday and Bruce decided to get off work earlier to plan out a good patrol route. He'd decided that a long patrol for three days would be the perfect reward for his ward. Dick loved patrolling and always wanted to stay out later so he knew he'd love this. Of course, there was another test on Monday but he thought it was better to have the patrol sooner rather than later. He was coming up from the Batcave when he heard the front door open and footsteps rush to the stairs. It had become a routine that Dick would run straight to his room when he came home and study until his patrol. He shrugged it off and continued his trek for coffee only to be stopped by a concerned Alfred. "Sir, I'm sure you're aware of Master Dick's habits during these past few weeks," he began, catching the older in the hallway to the kitchen. 

"Yes, I'm aware. It's great, isn't it?" The butler made a face at that. "What?"

"Have you looked at him recently? Really looked at him?" Alfred asked.

"I mean, no I haven't but I assumed he was fine? He's studying, he's getting good grades, and he's doing good on patrol. I'm pretty sure he's sleeping well too since I haven't been up to help with nightmares." Now he was getting that look his teammates gave him yet he still didn't understand how it applied to him. Why was everyone concerned about Dick when he was doing so well on paper? 

"Master Bruce, your ward is not fine. He kept falling asleep in the car, he all but passed out when he got home last night and I'm quite sure he's getting sick. He seemed so pale today but he wouldn't let me check his temperature. Perhaps you could speak to him about taking a break," he explained. 

"He has a schedule, Alfred, I'm sure he put breaks in there," Bruce argued stubbornly. Who would make a schedule without at least a fifteen-minute break in there? 

"He hasn't sat at the dinner table in weeks. You can't think this behaviour is exemplary." The younger shrugged and resumed his journey for coffee. Alfred watched him go with a loud sigh and decided he'd have to take over from Bruce on the fatherly role. He went upstairs and knocked lightly on Dick's door. There was a long pause before an extremely sleep deprived and sickly looking teenager opened the door. 

"Yeah, yes, yep hello hi," Dick greeted, stumbling and slurring each word. There was a slightly panicked look in his eye as they darted somewhere the butler couldn't see. 

"Master Dick, I must insist we see you at the dinner table in an hour. I'm aware your studies are important but so is family time." The last two words seemed to sour the boy's awkward attempt at a smile and he began retreating back inside the room.

"We'll see. Might nap. So uh yeah okay bye," he said before trying to close the door. Alfred stood there with a frown and put his foot in between the gap. "Alfie."

"None of that young sir. You will be there. Understood?"

"But I've got a schedule to keep to. You're already eating into my chemistry slot." He refrained from letting out a frustrated sigh, knowing it wouldn't make the situation better. 

"Can I have a copy of your schedule please?" Dick seemed to relax at the question having assumed this was the end of the argument. Far from it actually. The butler was simply gathering proof. He disappeared for a moment before returning with a paper schedule. 

"I have alarms so you can keep that. Is that everything?"

"For now, yes," Alfred replied, folding the paper in half before walking away. Had Dick been his usual self, he would've found the interaction very suspicious but he was more concerned about his exams. 

With the schedule in hand, Alfred was determined to prove a point. He found Bruce in his study and handed him the piece of paper. Bruce took it with a confused look and unfolded it although he clearly didn't get what he was supposed to be looking at. "This is the schedule you've been priding your theory on. Look over it and show me where you see a break." The schedule was full of abbreviations and the days began at five in the morning and ended at two in the morning. Throughout the day, there were no breaks. Where there was a big slot of time, it was labelled with school, sleep or patrol. None of those were really breaks even by Bruce's standards. Rest was required, the school was required and patrol counted as work no matter how fun that was. In the spaces, each was filled with abbreviations for a different subject. Bruce tilted his head as he looked through the paper and rubbed the back of his neck as he put it back down. "Are you seeing my point sir?" Alfred asked with a sharp tone. "Though he may be doing well academically, he's heading for an intense burnout. In fact, I think it's already here and I'm not going to be the only one to deal with it. You, Master Wayne, need to go up there and talk to your child because this behaviour is going to devour him." The billionaire knew he was in a heap of trouble when his last name was used. He coughed awkwardly and got up from behind his desk, folding the schedule back up before pocketing it. 

"I'll go check on him."

"That's what I thought."

So Bruce scaled the stairs and went to knock on his ward's door but paused when he heard something coming from inside. Crying. Not just usual crying but panicked crying. He heard it when Dick woke up from nightmares but wasn't quite back in the room. He'd heard it when Robin was just becoming a thing and Dick didn't have much of a pain tolerance yet. So he'd learned that when he heard that, everything was far from okay. He forewent knocking and went to open the door without prior warning. He found Dick hunched over his desk, his chemistry textbook open with tears staining it and a page of what appeared to be notes but the letters strung together in such a way that it made no sense. There weren't words. It was just letters. Bruce slowly entered the room, anxiety crawling and knawing at his skin. "Dick?" he called softly so as to not panic him further. Dick jumped either way but then this look of relief came over him only it was tainted by something. His eyes were missing something that Bruce had grown used to. 

"Oh Bruce great timing, I need you to read the next few pages for me because I can't read," he answered, showing the chemistry book. It took a minute for him to think about his words and then a horrified look went over his face. "I can't read. Shit, I can't read!" He put the book down and more tears fell upon the realisation. "B, I swear I'm still good. I'll-I'll just relearn!"

"Oh chum," Bruce whispered as he got closer. He pressed the back of his hand against his ward's forehead, not missing how the younger leaned into his touch. "You're burning up. How long have you been feeling sick?" Dick made a face as though the very accusation had cursed him. He moved away from the hand he'd previously been content to lean against and batted it away.

"Sick? Me, sick? No never. Nope, not sick. Just warm. I'll open a window." He stood up and got about halfway across the room before he rushed into the bathroom. Hacking and gagging could be heard from inside since he hadn't had the time to close the door all the way and every second it went on the worse it made his mentor feel. Dick was well and truly sick yet he'd been content enough to sit downstairs and plan an extra-long patrol. Well, that was well and truly out the window. Bruce stood there awkwardly as he waited for the vomiting to stop. He didn't quite know what to do with himself. Did he go in there and help or did Dick want to be alone? He wasn't sure if this was the sick you're allowed to cuddle your child through or the one you say "there there" through a door and brief interactions. This would be a great time to google it but when he fished through his pockets, all he found was that schedule he'd been pinning his hopes on. He went through what Dick had said to him moments ago.

"I can't read. Shit, I can't read!"

 "B, I swear I'm still good."

Of course, the kid was burnt out and made himself sick in the process. Bruce chewed on his bottom lip as he feared what brought this on. Did he say something? Did he bring this on? He guessed constantly bragging about the good grades could put pressure on anyone especially a young boy like Dick who was always so desperate to prove himself. That's the issue, isn't it? Dick needed to prove himself whenever he could and however he could. A whisp of praise was enough to make him burn himself out completely if it meant maintaining it. "Oh Dickie," he muttered in defeat. This was a big fuck up and he needed to make it up to him. 

Finally, the gagging stopped and an even worse for wear Dick Grayson stumbled out of the bedroom. He tried to make a b line to his desk but Bruce swiftly stepped in and put his hands on the younger's shoulders. "Dick, you're sick," he stated as though that would do anything. He knew it wouldn't but there was always that hope he'd be listened to.

"Not sick! Just uhm just." Dick squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to think of something to cover him yet he appeared to find nothing when he fell silent and tried to break away from his mentor's hold. "Outta way," he whined when he couldn't get the hands off him. "Gotta study."

"You've done enough studying," Bruce assured him but this seemed to get him more worked up. He struggled harder and harder to escape so he could return to his work. Tears trickled down his face as he found that he couldn't get away. The movements became more frantic as he worked himself up further. There was that panicked crying again with his breath hitching and leaving far too quickly for it to be sucked in again. 

"You don't understand! Bruce is gonna be so disappointed!" The fever must be getting worse then. That or puking his brains out had made things all too confusing. Both would be understandable and both broke the billionaire's heart. If he just paid attention, it wouldn't have been this bad. He knew that. He concentrated so hard on what was on paper that he didn't think to look up and see the person behind the grades. The person who was now as sick as a dog and so fever riddled he didn't recognise who was holding him back. "Please, he won't find me useful anymore."

"I do find you useful but that's not the point. You're sick and you need rest. No more work." Dick let out a crackly sob and crumpled into Bruce's hold with an exhausted whine. The older wrapped his arms around him and held him close, feeling the heat rolling off him in waves. Definitely fever riddled. He feared this would have to become a trip to the hospital which was the very last thing his ward needed. "Bedtime chum. No more work tonight."

"B-but what if I don't do well on this test? The lowest I got was a C that's not good enough!" he argued, his voice gripped with anxiety.

"We'll deal with that hurdle when we get to it," Bruce assured him. He scooped the teenager up, noting just how light he was, and put him on the bed before calling Alfred for a thermometer. As he packed up the revision notes with a grimace, finding more pages of nonsense, he heard Dick continue to cry in the background. He did his best to ignore it but that was rather hard when the boy was in such clear distress. Yet he didn't know how to help. What were the right words here? What was he supposed to do? 

Alfred came up a few minutes later and thankfully knew what to do. He shushed Dick softly and got his temperature which wasn't hospitalization worthy but bad enough to need vigilance. He was the one to help Dick out of his clothes that were wet with sweat and into a fresh set of pyjamas. He was the one to help him to bed and pet his hair as the sobbing slowly turned into stifled sniffles. He was the one to send Bruce for a sick bowl as he assured Dick that he was still useful. Throughout it all, Bruce felt like he was waiting for some sort of instruction book to fall into his lap. Following Alfred's orders gave him something to do but he couldn't help feeling as though he should be the one in the butler's position right about now. Yet he didn't push his way in. He fetched things when told and then just stood there awkwardly before being sent out of the room to busy himself. Bruce knew Alfred was mad for some reason but he didn't know why. He didn't know what to do. All he knew was that the looks he'd been getting all this time were looks begging him to see what was right in front of him. Unfortunately, it came too little too late.

"Hey Dami, guess what I have?" Dick announced in his sing-song voice. It was exam time and the younger had been struggling with balancing his work life with his school life. Of course, he'd never admit that but he never really had to admit things with an older brother like Dick. It was amazing how basic emotional awareness could go a long way. Damian glanced up at the older with a disinterested hum which, as always, Dick mistook as interest. "It's a schedule! I know when I was younger I got stressed to hell and back about exams so I thought this would help. I did some research and asked around to come up with the right amount of breaks too. Look, I colour coordinated it too," Dick explained, handing over the paper copy. 

"Do I appear so incompetent to you that I require a schedule to tell me what to do?" Damian huffed as he took the copy.

"No, not at all. It's more so that I'm incompetent so I've gotta keep you on a schedule that way I don't overwork you," the older answered. He knew that if he blamed himself this would go a lot smoother and he didn't mind shouldering that if it meant his brother didn't burn out. "Think you can stick to it?" he asked after a moment. Admittedly, he was a little nervous thanks to his schedules in the past but he'd made sure this one was mental health friendly.

"Yes, I believe so."

"Good! Now don't forget that as long as you try your best, it doesn't matter what grades you get. Don't start competing with anyone."

"You're not competition. Your grades are pitiful." Dick gave him a tight smile, the one that said he'd gone too far with his jabs. 

"Yeah. Guess they were," he replied quietly. He went to leave when a hand caught his wrist.

"But at least you are intelligent in other ways. Emotionally. That is also important." 

"Thanks, Dami. Now do you want orange or apple slices whilst you work?"

"Orange." He nodded and ruffled Damian's hair, gaining an annoyed groan, before fetching the required slices. He'd make sure he didn't make Bruce's mistake and he'd keep a good eye on the younger through the week. Damian wouldn't get sick. If he did then he'd know that it wasn't through burnout. Just some snotty rich kid.