A/n: Yeah, so this fanfic is basically what's going on with me right now but in the context of Dick Grayson because why not. Up to an extent/certain point in the story, whatever happens to Dick, has or is happening to me currently and life's just great you guys. For context, imagine those last five words being said in a slightly-sarcastic-absolutely-exhausted-but-still-said-with-a-smile voice okay?
It started on Sunday, when his throat started feeling off.
Well, actually, the whole situation kind of started on Friday when one of his fellow officers had gotten sick, but at that point it hadn't really been a bit deal. Dick had just shrugged it off, the only reason it really affected him at all being the fact that he himself had been working on a case closely with that officer in the days prior to his getting sick. But even then he didn't really worry; people got sick all the time, and he was in great shape anyway so why should he really care?
Yet a mere two days later, he'd found himself waking up with a weird dryness in his throat which at the time he hadn't thought much of either, chalking it up to maybe sleeping with his mouth open at some point or something like that - nothing out of the ordinary. So he'd gone about his business as usual that day, doing research on a Nightwing case and mostly just relaxing as he had the day off from his police job. Sometime in the afternoon as his weird throat persisted, he made himself a cup of tea; growing up with a British butler had certainly imprinted some habits onto him, especially when that aforementioned butler was such a strong believer in tea being the cure to most things ranging from sickness/injuries to depression or at the very least could be used as a preventative measure to the same things.
At night, he'd done his usual patrol, a normal amount of burglars, muggers, and the stray gang members. Nothing more, nothing less than any other day.
By the time he got back to his apartment, he was more tired than he should have been but again, nothing to be concerned about. As an almost paranoid precaution, he even took his temperature to alleviate his growing worries about being sick. Really the only reason he even cared was that there was a possibility of something important happening in his case from work the next day which he didn't want to miss. But he had nothing to worry about because his temperature came back perfectly normal.
The worries came back slightly the next morning. Waking up when his alarm went off was much more difficult than it should have been - especially with the relatively quiet night he'd had on patrol - but the only thing that actually warranted any real concern was the fact that it hurt to swallow. His throat was extremely dry, and any time he swallowed, it felt like instead of spit, he'd swallowed a box of thumbtacks.
That's probably not good, he thought, but it did get a little better when he drank some water. Either way, he had to go to work soon, so he just swallowed a couple tylenols and got on with his day. At some point while he was getting ready, he briefly thought about visiting Gotham sometime soon. It'd been a while since he'd seen Damian, longer still since he'd met his other brothers though he'd called Tim recently for some info - still too brief and remote an interaction for his liking. He could also do with a couple of Alfred's cookies, if he was being honest. His own never turned out quite the same, even if the recipe he used was Alfred's anyway.
Work was pretty uneventful, the lead he'd been hoping to get some results from disappearing, leaving him with the task of finding another way to get what he needed. As for the beginnings of a potential sickness, by noon he'd experienced a very brief period of wheezing - which was concerning in itself but it had only lasted all of a minute so he didn't think it too worrisome - as well as the start of a stuffy nose. Sometime around afternoon, he realised his hearing had also been effected, everything sounding the slightest bit muffled to his ears. But it was fine. He still didn't have a fever or anything and he'd downed another cup of tea - lemon ginger this time to help his persistent throat irritation - pushing away any symptoms by telling himself he couldn't get sick since there was too much to do the next day, both as Nightwing and Officer Grayson, the list only growing longer as the day went on.
When his shift finally ended, he went home and flopped onto his couch. He'd already taken five extra minutes in getting from his bike to his apartment, finding the motivation to even get out of the seat taking far too long but he was just so tired. He let himself just lay on his stomach, face in his couch cushions for ten minutes, each second after the five minute mark being spent telling himself he should probably get up and do some research on his lead before investigating that night as Nightwing.
By the time he finally got up again, he wanted nothing more than to just curl back up on the couch and - for some odd reason - just cry. His emotions never had been the best at staying tame when he was sick. Or weak. Which he most definitely was. The simple task of changing into comfier clothes and making himself another cup of tea was draining enough for him to have to take another two minutes just doing nothing on the couch before he opened his laptop and did minimal research.
As he worked, he considered if he should even go out as Nightwing tonight. Logically, he should - he'd been hoping to follow up this particular lead that night - but as he considered it longer, he came to the conclusion that the lead was still fresh for now. He could probably follow up tomorrow night and take it easier today with simple patrol. The longer he let that idea sit, the harder it got to consider anything else.
Yet another cup of tea and some more medicines later, he was crouched on the rooftop of a random building. Almost as soon as he'd left his apartment, he'd had to intervene in a mugging one street over and the encounter had left him with a new unfounded pain in his leg - he hadn't been hit there or anything that he could think of but damn did it hurt to crouch down like he was right now. He probably just managed to stretch his quads or something - inconvenient but nothing actually bad. He'd also started to feel a little nauseous, not enough to make him risk throwing up, but enough to make him slow down his movements a bit and forgo the usual flips and such.
Maybe patrol as a whole was a bad idea. He probably should have just stayed home and taken a rest day - to prevent him from getting actually sick if nothing else - but he was already out here so he might as well just finish patrol. He was lucky again in that it was a relatively quiet night, with nothing really that the police couldn't handle if he was unable to. Even so, he didn't go 100% at anyone who crossed him, instead only putting 10% of his usual energy into his moves which somehow was still too much. Barely a few hours in, he was already sweating profusely, his suit sticking uncomfortably to him but it was hard to tell if it was feverish sweating or just normal exertion sweat. His legs also felt weak, threatening to collapse under him every few steps regardless of whether he'd actually done something to his quads or not.
The one upside was that at least his nose had cleared up a bit with the physical activity somehow, along with his hearing becoming clearer too but it wasn't enough improvement to keep him going. Since there was nothing else as an immediate threat to his home, he decided to call it an early night.
He barely remembers taking a shower, eating a small meal even if he knew he should probably eat a little more when his immune system was weakened and absolutely crashing on his bed after he got back. Sometime during that period of falling asleep but not quite yet, he thought about how stupid it was that vigilantes could still get sick like this - how he could still get sick like this.
He generally had a pretty good immune system, even if it functioned in ways he didn't truly understand. For example, if most of his family was down with a sickness or something, he'd be the last to get it, but he'd also be the only one to get sick on certain occasions where everyone else was completely fine. Even so, he supposed he was maybe partly to blame for his proneness to getting sick, at least this time. His shifts at the station had recently changed a bit, so he hadn't been getting as much sleep as he usually did while his body tried to adjust to the new sleep schedule as well as the fact that he'd somehow found himself eating fewer snacks in a day than he generally did while also skipping lunch most days. As a vigilante, police officer, and pretty muscular guy, that probably wasn't smart.
But whatever. People got sick sometimes and that was just the way it was. The only thing he was mad about was why he always seemed to get sick at times where he couldn't afford it; always having something important he was needed for in the upcoming few days. At least this time he only had important stuff tomorrow so far, only needing to hold out for one more day before he could take time off if he really needed it.
One more day. He could do that. Provided he actually got a good night's sleep. And some medicine in the morning. And another cup of tea before work.
Yeah, he could manage one more day.
A/n: I wrote this last night and it's the next day btw.
So up til basically this point, all of the story is applicable to me. My friend I had so smartly spent more time within recent days tested positive for covid except does covid even really exist anymore idk, but basically, I've probably gotten sick too but it's not bad enough that I can take a day off and I have too much to do anyway so yeah. Like I said, life's great. Depending on how today goes, that's how I'll write the rest lol.
Anyway, stay safe, try not to get sick like me even if it seems like everyone's some variation of sick regardless - September's great right? - and see ya soon.
- CrowofArcadiaOaks