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coffee-n-some-cream · 7 years

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The Space I Filled - Chapter 6: Take Your Antibiotics and Make a Wish

Tim came to consciousness slowly, his vision black and his head fuzzy and throbbing. What had happened? Last he remembered, he had been in his room doing… what had he been doing? Laundry, wasn’t is? Yes. He had been doing laundry, but he had felt… oh. This again.

He pried his eyes open, blinking several times, and registered the blurry view of his nightstand from his bedroom floor. He placed one hand on the floor, took a few deep breaths, and tried to push himself up from the floor. The effort sent a wave of lightheadedness through him, his vision going white momentarily, and he collapsed back onto the floor, panting heavily.

He felt like he had just gone through his full workout with just that small exertion, his forehead suddenly covered in sweat, but in contrast his whole body was shaking with a chill. He pushed his forehead against the floor and huffed out a frustrated breath.

“Gabe? You here?”

Shit. He hadn’t heard her come through the door, or even knock. He didn’t want her to find him like this. He didn’t want to scare or worry her. And he didn’t want her to see him this weak. But he couldn’t really help it, could he?

“Gabe, where are you? You left all the lights on, I know you’re here. Gabe?”

Still. He refused to call to her. If she found him like this, fine, but he wasn’t going to help her. He lay in resigned yet stubborn silence on his bedroom floor and listened to her wander about his apartment looking for him.

“Gabe?” she called again, and this time she sounded like she was right outside the bedroom door. “I hope you’re not naked in there or anything, ‘cause I’m coming in!”

He couldn’t see the door as he was rolled away from it, but he heard it open and Adriana walk in.

“Oh my GOD! Gabe!” She was suddenly at his side, hands hovering over him. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Tim sighed. “I’m f-fine, Adriana, j-just…” he trailed off with frustration when he couldn’t make his teeth stop chattering as he spoke.

To his surprise, Adriana’s face went from panicked to a focus that almost seemed professional. She scanned him with her eyes and checked his pulse, pupils, and temperature, taking in all his symptoms - shivering, pale, sweating, feverish, weak, semi-conscious, pupils dilated, heavy breathing, and judging from all the swallowing, a sore throat.

“Your body is trying it’s damnedest to fight an infection, Gabe,” she said as she began helping him off the ground and into his bed, which was thankfully right next to where he had passed out.

“I kn-know,” he said, “This h-happens every n-now and again.”

Adriana shot him an incredulous look as she adjusted the sheets around him. “What happens?”

“I c-catch something and it hits me like a ton of bricks,” he deadpanned, slowly gaining control of his chattering teeth as being under his covers warmed him.

“Are you sure?” Adriana said as she wandered into the adjoining bathroom to search through his medicine cabinet for something to give him. “This is pretty serious, Gabe, I find it hard to believe you get sick like this very often.”

Tim shrugged. “Well, I don’t have a spleen, so.”

Adriana stopped rifling through the cabinet and poked her head out to stare at him. “You don’t have a spleen?” she asked with horror.

Tim smiled at her despite how absolutely shitty he felt. “It’s not that uncommon. I had to have it removed.”

Adriana rolled her eyes at him. “I know it’s not uncommon, Gabe, my mom’s a nurse, remember?” She turned her attention back to the medicine cabinet, pulling out a bottle and reading its label. “It’s just that if you don’t have a spleen, and the spleen, yanno, helps fight infection, you need to have antibiotics or vaccines fairly often to fight off the massive amount of infections you could get.”

“Yes, Adriana, I know. I had my spleen removed, remember?” he said patiently, before closing his eyes. He was exhausted.

“Well, smart guy, I don’t see any,” she responded.

“Any what?” he mumbled.

“Any antibiotics.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t have any.”

Adriana closed the cabinet and he heard her walk over to stand next to the bed. “You don’t have any?”

“That’s what I said,” he said, not even opening his eyes to look at her. Too tired. “You’re such a good pupil, you listen so well.”

“Gabe, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

His eyes shot open at that and he reached out to grab her wrist. She jumped back and stared at him, startled.

“No hospital.”

Her brow knit. “Gabe, you-”

“No. Hospital.”

Hospitals held records, hospitals asked for ID, hospitals tried to identify you. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a fake ID, but being in a hospital was a permanent stamp on any area he was in, like a footprint left for anyone who knew where to look. They would register him, have a description of him, note that he doesn’t have a spleen. If anyone were looking for him, that would be one of the first places they checked. Hospitals were for emergencies only. This was not an emergency.

Adriana watched him carefully, then looked down at his grip on her wrist. He quickly let go of her and curled his hand against his stomach.

“Alright. No hospital,” she agreed, albeit grudgingly. “But I’m going down to the drugstore and I’m picking up some antibiotics for you, and hopefully your body will sort this out on its own.”

Tim nodded in agreement. “Good plan. Mentor approves.”

Adriana shook her head at him and walked out of the room, muttering, “You’re weird when you’re sick.”

By the time she got back with a bag of antibiotics, pain meds, and a few cans of chicken noodle soup, Gabe had descended into a feverish, delirious mess. He was mumbling to himself incoherently and, upon seeing her walk through the bedroom door, attempted to order her out of the room.

“Excuse me?” she asked, incredulous.

“Out!” he demanded, pointing a finger imperiously at the door. “The sickness can’t spread!”

Adriana stared at him for a moment, mouth hanging open, before she said, “Uh, no.”

Gabe produced what can only be called a growl and buried himself further into his sheets. Then he started mumbling again. “Insubordinate… I’m the leader of the Titans now, you do what I say, little miss ‘I do what I want,’ just ‘cause you’re Superman’s kid, well…”

Adriana elected to ignore his nonsensical mutterings and set about administering the antibiotics, which he was thankfully cooperative about.

“Okay, Gabe, there’s pain meds here if you want them,” she said, jiggling the container before setting it on the dresser next to his bed along with a glass of water.

Gabe turned to look at her, eyes wide and searching. “Who is Gabe?”

Adriana looked at him and reconsidered taking him to the hospital for a moment, but instead just turned to leave. “You’re delirious. I’m going to make you some chicken soup. Be back in a bit.”

Gabe hummed and mumbled something. Adriana stopped and turned back to him, expecting more nonsense.

“What was that?” she called, leaning forward.

“What a shit way to spend my birthday,” he muttered, slightly louder.

She stared at him. “It’s your birthday?”

“Ugh. Yeah. Twenty-five years old as of today,” he grumped, suddenly sounding much more coherent as he waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Don’t tell them though, they’ll try to make something of it.”

Adriana looked around the room as if the people Gabe was referring to were somehow hiding there. “Don’t tell… who?”

“ Them. Oh, nevermind, Steph.”

Adriana raised an eyebrow. “I’m Adriana…?”

“Uh-huh.” Gabe rolled over onto his side, turning his back to her, and almost immediately began to snore.

Adriana stared at him for a few more moments before shaking her head with a smile and heading toward the kitchen to make the soup. She was never going to let him live this down.

Nightwing looked out over Gotham city as he dangled his legs off the side of an apartment building and sipped on the ice coffee he had purchased at the cafe a little ways down the block. He kicked his legs back and forth and sighed. He remembered on this day, years ago, he’d make an impromptu visit to his little brother’s place and drag him out to have some fun, or maybe he’d just stay in and hang with him. Whichever. He’d be with him. Nowadays, that wasn’t really an option. Didn’t mean he couldn’t celebrate the kid’s birthday at all, though.

“How are you, Tim?” he began, as he always did. “Things are alright here, in case you want to know. Damian hit a growth spurt. Again. He’s gonna be taller than you soon and he’s only fifteen. Jason’s good, he’s talking to me more. Still stubborn though. He actually misses you, I think. Babs still has that program looking for you, you know. She checks it every weekend, but… I think she gave up on it a while ago.” He frowned a bit, then took another sip of his coffee.

“You know, Bruce doesn’t like to talk about you when this day comes around, but I know he’s thinking about you. Trying not to, of course, but he is. Alfred is too. He gets a little more sullen this day every year. And Cass… let’s see. She’s doing beautifully in her ballet lessons, Tim, you’d be proud. She’s doing good. Don’t see her much though. Steph is good too. She took it hard when you disappeared but she bounced back. She’s like that. Which you already knew.”

He took a long sip of the ice coffee and furrowed his brow. “Who am I forgetting…? Oh!” He chuckled. “Me! I’m doing great, as always, I’m just. I don’t know. A little tired. Tonight’s been rough. Talking to you has made me feel better though. I wish the others would join me for this little tradition, but… Yeah, they say it feels like they’re mourning you. The only person I can ever celebrate today with is- Oh, there he is.”

Dick looked up to the sky and watched as Superboy descended toward the roof, small smile on his face and coffee in hand.

“Hey, Kon!” Dick called.

“Hey,” Superboy responded, perching beside him on the edge of the roof. “Got my coffee.”

“Actual coffee this time?” Dick asked.

“Nah, you know I hate the stuff. I got a hot chocolate.”

Dick nodded. “Wise choice.”

Kon held up his styrofoam cup and Dick responded in kind, both their drinks bought from Tim’s favorite coffee shop in Gotham.

“To being twenty-five years old. Happy Birthday, Tim,” Kon said, his voice heavy but steady.

“Happy Birthday, Tim,” Dick repeated, and tapped the edge of his cup against Kon’s.

They both took a sip, then sat side by side and watched the bustle of Gotham city.

AO3

#my writing #fandom writings #ao3 #dc #tim drake #batfam #the space i filled #tim is sick because when you don't have a spleen sometimes you get sick ok #adriana's mom is a nurse #the ppl back home miss him #happ birth timboy

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