Disclaimer: I don't own anything DCU-related.

Chapter summary: Where Tim is sick and Kon pays him a visit. Fluff ensues~

Author's Notes: Just thought I'd put a bunch of random one-shots that I've written into a collection together. Will post more soon. Enjoy~

The Best Cure for Colds

Tim was sick and he felt absolutely dreadful.

He hadn't felt this horrible since that time he mistaken one Kory's bizarre Tameranian dishes for some leftover chicken broth, and then proceeded to spend the rest of the night being closely re-acquainted with a porcelain bowl.

Fun times.

All too similarly, Tim didn't know he was feeling off until he was suddenly seeing double of everything.

Luckily for him, Dick was with him at the time and saw that he was practically walking himself into walls. Without another word, he half-dragged, half-carried Tim all the way back home, where Bruce eyed him critically for only a moment before telling—no, ordering—Tim to go straight to bed.

Of course, Tim was instantly against it ("I'm fine! Just a little tired, but I'm fine! I can continue patrol tonight—") And then he fell on the receiving end of one of Bruce's much scarier bat-glares and well, needless to say, Tim took the suggestion without any complaints after that.

And it was a good thing Bruce made him skip out on patrol. From the time he dressed himself down to a pair of PJs and slithered into bed, Tim was already feeling the full affects of his illness.

It wasn't long before the fever kicked in, along with the uncontrollable shivering, the nausea and then the really bad headache which felt equivalent to having a rhino-morphed Beast Boy trample over his brain several hundred times over (and then some).

Tim didn't know how long he spent between being curled up in his bed, checked up on by either Alfred or Dick (and even Bruce) to actually sleeping, because by the time he resurfaced from another fever-induced coma, he was more or less aware that someone was standing over his bed and watching him.

Even half-lucid with delirium, Tim's senses were never less than alert. Trouble is, he couldn't tell who it was.

"Dick? Is that you?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and lack of use.

"Whoa, man, you really are out of it," said a familiar voice that was evidently not his brother's.

Tim peaked open one eye and then the other, letting his vision slowly focus before settling on the figure beside him. His eyes fell on short, dark hair, blue eyes that were clear even in the dark, and then lastly, on the bright red S-Shield at the front of their shirt.

"Kon?" he said, so surprised that he sat upright.

Big mistake. Just as soon as he got vertical, everything else in the room began swaying.

"Whoa! Hey, take it easy, Tim," said Kon, who was instantly by Tim's side, pressing a hand over his chest and easing him back down underneath the blankets gently.

Without thinking about it, Tim immediately latched onto Kon's wrist, pulling him closer.

"You're really here," said Tim, both in awe and bewilderment by Kon's mere presence.

"Yeah, I'm here," said Kon softly. He didn't say anything even as Tim's hold tightened on his hand.

"But… what are you doing here, Kon? How did you get in here?" Somehow, he could not picture Bruce letting Kon just stroll in through the Batcave, never mind the front gate.

"Nightwing let me in," said Kon with a careless shrug that totally meant it hadn't been as simple as that. Tim briefly wondered if Bruce had been difficult and if Dick had anything to do with why Kon was even allowed up here in his room in the first place.

"Oh," he said and couldn't say any more after that. He was feeling dizzy again. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut and tried to count to ten slowly. He found if he did this several times, the headaches will eventually go away as well.


Tim opened his eyes. Kon was staring at him again, this time a little more closely. His face was lit with concern and determination as his eyes started to roam over him.

Tim felt himself flush. He knew Kon was probably assessing his condition by using his x-ray vision, but it still never failed to make Tim feel self-conscious about himself. It was unlikely, but whenever Kon stared at him a little too long or a little too hard, Tim could not help but wonder if Kon could somehow see passed the simple flesh and bone of his body to what lay beyond that. He wondered if Kon could see every little thing Tim fought hard to hide from everyone else. He wondered if Kon could see the real him.

As if sensing something was afoot, Kon met his eyes again and Tim, out of reflex, quickly averted his gaze to his lap, where he found that he was still holding onto Kon's hand. Flushing again, he quickly let go.

Tim was surprised by the loss and coldness he felt upon doing that and resisted the urge to snatch Kon's hand back.

"Hey," said Kon again, pulling Tim from his thoughts.

Tim felt his breath get caught in his throat. He hadn't even noticed Kon had moved and was sitting so close that Tim could see his reflection in Kon's eyes. Tim jerked back.

"Your heart rate is elevated…" said Kon, frowning, peering closer at Tim's face, "and your breathing is kind of uneven."

Kon reached over and placed a hand on his forehead, checking his temperature.

"And your fever went up a bit too! Dude, are you seriously okay?" he asked, cupping both sides of Tim's face in his hands in a manner that was both desperate and tender.

Shivering, Tim grasped his wrists. "I-I'm fine!" he said, but didn't sound nearly as convincing as he'd liked. "Just… just a little cold that's all." Which wasn't that far from the truth he suppose.

Kon's frown deepened. "Cold?" he repeated. He seemed to be thinking about something and then, as if coming to a conclusion, he said, "Alright. Scoot over."

Tim knew he was sick, and therefore could not hold his mind or his body accountable for any weird or strange things they might have misheard, but just now it sounded like Kon had just asked him to—

"Tim. Make some room," he said impatiently, nudging Tim's shoulder.

Oh, so he had heard correctly after all. Well then.

"What are you doing?" he demanded when Kon had all but slid into the bed next to him.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" said Kon. "I'm here to keep you warm."

Tim's face was incredulous. "W-What?"

Kon rolled his eyes. "You said you were cold, Boy Wonder," he said as if Tim was slow, and then patted at the mattress beside him. "Now will you come over here? I don't have all night you know."

Tim hesitated, his face growing redder and redder by the second.

"Kon, I don't know—"

"Tim." At the sound of his name, he paused. Kon had his arm extended to him, a serious look on his face. "Come here. Please."

Despite his misgivings, Tim found himself crawling into Kon's open arms, where he was immediately engulfed by warmth so immeasurable that it made all the cold feelings in Tim's gut disappear almost instantly. In Kon's arms he felt safe, content… like everything was somehow going to be okay.

Tim shivered and buried his face into Kon's neck, just letting himself, for once, enjoy this new closeness. He inhaled the smell of soap, grass and open air, and remembered how often it drove him crazy. And what was more was the steady rhythm of Kon's heart beating—both constant and strong—right below the pads of his fingertips.

Kon's arms slowly wound their way across his back, pulling him closer. "Are you still cold?" he murmured after a second of absolute silence.

"No," he replied softly. Because it was the truth. "Not anymore."

Tim closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep.