Author: Alan Black
Request: 15oo word Jason/Tim fic involving Jason getting/being sick and having his “Princess” (love that nickname) care for him.
Word count: 1578
Notes: This fic has been brought to you by Nomen. I am thrilled beyond words that you liked Cakewalk as much as you did. I hope I was able to deliver the goods a second time. :) Also, seeing as you so enjoyed ‘Princess’, I took the liberty of giving Jason a nickname as well…
Tim closed the door to Dick’s apartment with his foot, carefully balancing the heavy bag of groceries against his hip. Setting it awkwardly on the floor, he shook rain out of his hair and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on a peg by the door.
“That you, Princess?”
The teenager glanced up, craning his neck to peer down the hall that led to the living room where Jason had been quarantined.
“How are you feeling?” he called. The laces in his sneakers were swollen and damp and caked with mud as he bent down to untie them.
“How do you think?” was the obstinate reply, followed by a wet cough. “I’m fucking dying, Princess. My lungs are trying to take a vacation from my chest. Other than that, I’m just swell, thanks.”
Tim chuckled and shook his head. The dripping ends of his dark hair stuck to his flushed cheeks. Gathering the soaked paper bag, he made his way carefully down the hall to the open kitchen where he set it on the counter. Once in the adjoining living room, he shucked his socks, exchanging them for a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. The damp denim of his jeans was cold against his ankles.
“You get my drugs?” Jason asked. He made a half-hearted effort to sit up a little further against his nest of pillows and blankets.
Tim smiled. “I got some stuff that should help you, yeah.”
The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. They were red but alert when Tim leaned over him, fussing with his blankets.
“Stop that,” Jason grumbled, slapping at his hands. “I’m not a goddamn child.”
“No, you just throw tantrums when you’re sick,” Tim countered smoothly, putting the inside of his wrist against Jason’s forehead. “I think your fever’s breaking. That’s good.”
“Yeah, it’s an added bonus I’m not seeing pink bats every time I close my eyes.”
Tim straightened and arched his brow. “Pink bats?”
Jason coughed into his sleeve. When the fit passed, he fell back with a groan, closing his eyes.
“Shut up. My scathing wit can’t survive in these conditions. The whole fucking system decided it was time to unionize—” His hand rose and fell. “—and then go on strike. The goddamn nerve. I’m so pissed off.”
Tim laughed quietly, turning back toward the kitchen. He began unloading little boxes and bottles, lining them up in a neat row on the counter.
“It’s just a cold, Jason. Not even the flu. Certainly nothing worse than that.”
“You don’t understand, Princess,” Jason moaned, resting his forearm against his eyes. “I’m a dying man; I won’t last the night.”
A small smile settled on Tim’s mouth. “I’m sure.” He picked up each box in turn, reading labels and pulling tabs as his counterpart on the couch tried to convince him he was on the brink of death.
“It’s got me.” Jason clutched his chest and forced a cough that quickly morphed into the real thing.
“Remember to cough it up,” Tim reminded, scanning directions for adult use on the back of a bottle. “If you swallow it, it’s just going to prolong the infection.”
Jason made a show of hacking into a tissue. “You’re a nasty SOB, you know that?”
Tim grinned, twisting a cap. “Is it still green?”
The man sat back against his pillows and tossed his used tissue in the general direction of the wastebasket Tim had set up specifically for him. It joined its scattered brethren on the floor.
“No, it turned purple a few minutes after you left. It’s been going through the goddamn rainbow ever since. I think if I try hard enough, I might get something awesome like teal.” Jason shifted, rubbing irately at his sinuses. “Hey, you should get out of those wet clothes. I should help.”
“You should stay right where you are or I’ll make you take another dose of that garlic and onion mixture I made for you last night.”
“Bitch,” the man muttered. Jason coughed again, but otherwise held his tongue.
The teenager continued reading aloud under his breath, then tapped the bottle against his open hand. He palmed four capsules, shuffling the rest back in. Two of them he kicked back dry, working his mouth until it was wet enough to swallow. The others he walked over to Jason.
“Here, take these,” he said, perching on the edge of the couch at the man’s hip.
Jason frowned. “What the hell is it?”
“Zinc tablets,” Tim explained, reaching under the blanket and tugging Jason’s hand out by the wrist. He opened the man’s fingers and dropped the pills. “It helps boost your immune system. I just took two of them myself.”
“Because you don’t want to die of the plague, either,” Jason complained. “Holy shit, they’re the size of bullets. How the fuck did you swallow these dry?”
Tim grinned as he leaned over to the coffee table and poured juice into a glass.
The man chuckled darkly. “Practice, huh? That’s what you call my dick in your mouth—hey, you give me any more of that blueberry shit and I’m gonna start changing colours,” he griped. Still muttering his opinion of the matter, he popped the pills.
“Blueberries are natural antioxidants,” Tim said calmly. “It’ll help you feel better.”
Jason snorted, taking the glass. He brought it reluctantly to his lips.
“So would a blow job.” He drank and swallowed, wincing. “But you don’t seem to be giving those out.”
The teenager blushed and took back the glass. “Not until you’re better.”
Jason sighed and made a motion with his hand. “Alright already—so let’s get this show on the road. Gimme my drugs so we can get back to fucking around and fighting bad guys, Princess.”
Tim laughed and stood, walking back toward the kitchen. “I thought I told you not to call me that.”
The man smirked. “And I told you not to swallow, but you did that anyway.”
The teenager’s colour deepened; he set the glass on the counter and started ripping into blister packs.
“I’m starting you on a strict regimen of vitamins and supplements—”
“Oh, god, not with the holistic bullshit again,” Jason groaned. “Just dose me with the good stuff, would you? Stop holdin’ out, Princess, and give it up.”
Tim glanced over his shoulder. “Using suppressants doesn’t make you better, Jason. It suppresses your system and makes the cold work harder to run its course. It actually takes longer that way.”
Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t make me take your hippie concoctions. I have rights. And a gun.”
The teenager sighed softly and his hands stilled.
“If you can get up off that couch,” he started, turning and reclining his weight on his elbows. “Then you can do whatever you want to me.” Tim made a deliberate show of flipping the hair out of his face. “Right now. C’mon, Cowboy. Show me your straight shooter.”
Jason gave him a long, low look. Mustering his forces, he tossed the blanket off his legs and slowly maneuvered them toward the floor.
“I’m gonna hold you to that, Princess.”
“Oh, I hope you hold me to all sorts of things, Cowboy,” Tim teased. He rocked back against the counter, his legs angled forward.
“But if you can’t, then I get to do whatever I want in terms of treating your cold.”
Jason paused. He glanced up through his black hair, his skin fevered and sallow.
Tim grinned. “I’m on what? On top?”
Jason’s eyes widened. He smirked, grabbing the arm of the couch to haul his weight.
“You’re so mine.”
The teenager played coy, dragging one slippered foot back and forth, tapping his heel against the floor.
“Well, yeah. But the real question is whether I’m yours now or later.”
Tensing, Jason pulled himself into a standing position. They both ignored the fact that he swayed slightly on his feet.
“There’s no time like the present, Princess.”
Tim glanced down, then up. His voice lowered provocatively.
“You gonna ride me, Cowboy?”
Jason’s smirk was nearly feral. “From here to Metropolis.”
Tim straightened slowly, with a little added bounce for bonus as he came away from the counter.
The man’s eyes were clear, sharp, and calculating. He took one solid step away from the couch.
And nearly fell flat on his ass.
Tim’s arms were warm and steadying on his waist as he helped the man back into his makeshift bed.
“Seems like you’re a few days shy of roping cattle, Cowboy.”
Jason glared, but allowed himself to be arranged back amongst the blankets and pillows. “You’re a cock tease.”
The teenager smiled. “How good of you to notice. I’m also your designated nurse now that you’ve proven you need one.” He pulled the wad of coverings off the couch and jerked his arms upward; they jumped into the air, then settled lightly around his patient.
The man huffed. “Just give me my drugs.”
Tim turned; he jerked as Jason’s hand smacked his ass.