.
.
He never gets sick.
That's not in the job description for being Robin.
(Falling into Gotham Harbor in the middle of the night after skipping two meals was… probably not the best idea.)
Dick buries himself under a pile of extra-thick and warm quilts. He shivers and shudders and shakes. Donna hovers nearby, on her tiptoes, gently blowing on a cup of soup she microwaved for him. It smells good, but Dick's stomach clenches up into a ball.
Wally zips himself in, leaning over with his hands on his hips.
"How ya doin', Sniffles?" he crows.
"Shut…up…"
"Language, Robbie!" Wally pretends to gasp loudly, eyes wide. "Oh my goodness! What if Batman heard you talking like that!"
"Great Neptune," Garth murmurs fearfully. He sticks his fingertips into his mouth and pulls down.
Dick summons the last of his energy, dragging himself from the quilts and chucking a pillow fiercely in Wally's direction. It is useless, of course. Wally yelps, dodging and super-speeding out. Dick feels lightheaded all of a sudden, hunching over.
Donna tuts sympathetically, cradling a hand to Dick's back as he wheezes.
"Are you okay…?"
Roy makes a show of rolling his eyes.
"No, there's no cure for moron," he grumbles, walking over.
Dick finds the entire world, and himself, tilting back with Roy's hands helping him. He maneuvers a slightly fever-flushed Dick to lie down the quilts. Roy eyes him sternly until the other boy wheezes out a laugh into his fist, smiling brightly.
"Takes one…to…"
"Yeah, yeah," Roy grumbles again, ruffling Dick's black, sweaty hair playfully.
Wally zooms behind him. He slings his arms around Roy's neck and chuckles, gazing at Dick along with Roy and a toothily smiling Garth joining them. Donna lets out a pleasant hum of approval, taking Dick's hand and offering up her soup.
This is nice.
Dick is sure that there is no one… no one else he would rather have fighting at his side.
No one but them.
.
.