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Normally Jason wasn’t one to do the wellness checks in the family but with Dick in San Francisco, Bruce off world and Timmy not picking up the phone; here he is. He’d been banging on Tim’s penthouse door for 20 minutes with no answer. At this point the fear of tripping any defenses went out the window and he began picking the lock.
The alarms woke Tim from his 10+ hour nap, the loud blaring and red flashing assaulting his senses. For a moment he wanted to cry. All he wanted was sleep and no one in this city could even give him that. Slothing out from under the covers, he stumbled to his bedroom door, not thinking to grab a weapon.
Jason was kneeling on the floor still when the teen opened the door.
“Hey, Timmy.”
“Jason.” He didn’t sound as threatening as he wanted with the congestion; Jason wasn’t expecting that.
“You’re sick.”
“It’s a cold,” Tim asserted pointedly. The older boy snorted, standing before laying the back of his hand on his brother’s forehead.
“Jesus…” The kid definitely had a fever over 101, maybe more. Tim swats his hand away.
“I’m fine.”
“Really? Cuz you look like shit.” Jason looking him over; dark circles around the eyes, flushed skin, sweaty pjs… “Come on…” Tim didn’t put up too much fight when being led to the couch and swaddled in a blanket. “You take anything yet? Tylenol? Decongestant?”
“I guess… a while ago.” He looked on the counter at the strewn about bottles and sighed.
“What about water?” Tim shrugged. Jason sighed again, looking at the teens arms. You couldn’t see a vein on him. “Kid… Jesus.”
“I’m–”
“ Do not say you’re fine.” Tim grumbled but shut his mouth. “You look like you have the flu.” Suddenly the kid looked slightly more concerned, especially for someone who’s been downplaying this whole situation. “What?...”
“I need to go to the hospital.” Well wasn’t that a great sentence come out of your little brother’s mouth.
“I agree but… what aren’t you telling me?” Tim mumbled something in response. “What?-- Come on, spit it out.”
“I do not have a spleen,” He said in a flat, clear tone. Jason didn’t know whether to panic or smack him upside the head.
“Why the hell didn’t you go to a fucking doctor already!?!” He immediately regretted snapping when Tim flinched and retreated deeper into the blanket burrito. “Sorry… it’s okay… we’ll just go now.”
“M’sorry…” He didn’t cry much, his mother made sure he didn’t cry, so right now it must be the fever making his vision grow glossy.
“It’ll be okay… I promise.”
They get down to the lobby before Tim vomits again, in an unlucky plant. It was all bile, he’d stopped keeping food down a day ago. Jason keeps one arm around his chest and the other rubbing the boy’s back.
“I can’t do it anymore… please make it stop… Jay…”
“I hear ya, Timmy… shhh… we’ll be at the hospital before ya know it.”
It took some doing but he got Tim to the hospital; then did some insisting to get the kid a bed. Some fluids, antibiotics, and pain meds later he was looking better.
“Jayjay?”
“Yeah, Timbit?”
“I’m sorry…” Tim looked a little too much like a kicked puppy for his liking.
“Why? You’re sick.”
“I know… I’ll do better…” Jason frowned, laying a gentle hand on the teen’s messy hair. He didn’t miss how Tim leaned into the touch.
“You’re a great kid… okay?... gettin’ sick ain’t your fault.”
“M’kay… I think I gotta sleep now.”
“I know buddy… close your eyes, I’ve got a book.” He waited for till Tim’s eyes were closed to take his hand away.